Walter Scott- 'Oh, what a tangled web we weave, … when first we practice to deceive.'

'Just one more hour to go until we're free.' A mousey-brown haired boy stage whispered to his companions, a look of relief and longing intertwining across his rather plain features. It was a sentiment shared by most of those dining in the Great Hall that morning and was, perhaps, the main contributing factor to the rather chaotic scene, along with the large amounts of sweets, caffeine and, by certain elements of the Seventh Year, alcohol which had been consumer in the various, and completely spontaneous, parties in all of the Common Rooms, and some of the dormitories before that. That, and the heat of course, which seeped through with the sun through the high windows and made everyone uncomfortable, unfocused and irritable; causing them to think longingly of home where they could just lay in the shade with some ices, rather than being stuck in sticky, crowded classrooms. A sentiment which had, in the last few days, overtaken the usual unwillingness to leave the castle and friends.

The mousey-haired, rather whispy boy, whose untucked shirt and slightly rumpled robes gave a distinct impression of distractedness, was seated halfway down the Gryffindor table with those Gryffindor Seventh Years who were beginning to come down in drips and drabs from the Common Room party for food, causing the scene to rapidly deteriorate. Along with his companions, an attractive dark haired blue-eyed girl, who looked rather teary, another dark-haired boy who seemed a little uncertain as to how to comfort her, and had resorted to rather ineffectual pats, and another brunette, watched with mild amusement as Professors Merrythought, Selwyn and Dippet attempted to stop two food fights, confining them before they spread 'Prewett, if I have to repeat myself you will be in detention next year!', confiscated a fanged frisbee- 'Mr Black, if you do that one more time!' They looked rather despondently around for prefects, who had decided it was too close to the end of term even to try, then called some reinforcements to stop a small duel- 'Mr Mongomery! Mr Travers! Stop now or I will write about it on your reference if, by some miracle, you obtain jobs!' As well as a rather lively rendition of Odo the Hero and a group of people hitting each other with Daily Prophets- 'Miss Brown, ladies do not do things like that!'

'Freedom for you, perhaps, Elphias.' Sniffed Addie, the dark-haired girl. 'You and Albus will be off travelling the world … I.. I … my mama already has about five balls, six parties and ten teas lined up for me. All day calling on dull witches, or waiting for them to call on us …' She caught hold of the jug of pumpkin juice with long-practiced ease as Elphias sent it flying as he reached for the bacon. (Sorry, Addie!) 'And then I'll marry someone like them- oh Merlin … and if mama has her way it'll be next week, she didn't even want me to do Seventh Year! You call that freedom! I want to stay!' Addie resumed her sniffling, and Elphias and the others looking awkward.

'Well, Addie …' Elphias began tentatively, gazing at an apparently fascinating jar of marmalade, his bacon rapidly disappearing. 'I'm sure it won't be as bad as you think …' Everyone around them went quiet, although a couple made frantic abort motions, at which Elphias seemed to realise his dreadful mistake.

'No it won't!' She replied savagely. 'Just because I'm a witch! I could do any job better than you, and in corsets! You, who gets to see pyramids and chimeras and- Merlin's pants!'

'What?!'

Arcturus Black, a Slytherin fifth year, had lobbed a rolled Prophet at one of his friends, missed horrendously, and instead hit the milk jug beside Addie, splattering black robes white. 'What a day! You've got to be joking! Scourgify! Black- you're an idiot!'

'Tergio may have been a better choice.' A quite, measured voice behind them stated as Addie's robes started to smoke slightly. 'No, let me clear that up from the table.'

'Head Boy to the rescue! Hey, Adeline, perhaps if you did that spell on yourself you'd become a proper pureblood and find a beau! Or maybe it'd just clean your mouth out! Or you're complexion! Either'd be an improvement!'

'And to think that some people like that will be unleashed on the poor unsuspecting world? Merlin's beard, we're doomed! Just ignore him, he's not worth it. Anyway, he'll probably get what he deserves soon enough. The world's good like that.' Something gleamed, momentarily, in the piercing blue eyes behind the half-moon spectacles as the tall boy settled himself behind Elphias. 'Everyone packed? Elphias, I packed Ancient Runes, just in case. Henry, pass me the toast? Merlin, I'm going to miss this place.' Everyone launched at the distraction that the boy provided, all determinedly looking positive, Addie's sniffing decreasing considerably.

'Says the boy who has achieved, what, all outstanding NEWTS with 900% in each.' Teased Elphias.

'Who, according to Waffling is going to revolutionise transfiguration and become the youngest minister for magic?' Continued Addie. 'With what you've got ahead you shouldn't be worrying … or complaining … still, I know what you mean. And we must all meet up once you've stopped travelling, relive this a little!'

'Just ask him out and be done with it!'

'Kindly shut up, Black!' Black turned away, grumbling slightly, but not daring to continue the argument with all the teachers circling around. 'All of you- stop it! None of us have any idea what we have got and I'm sure in the Transfiguration paper-' The others all dissolved into simultaneous, raucous laughter as Albus turned a bright shade of red.

'Just promise me you'll write.' Said Addie, suddenly serious. 'I'll need anything to help to alleviate the boredom. And, I implore you, please try not to make me too jealous with all the tales of your adventures.'

A chorus of 'I promise's and sighs followed Addie's comment, and, after a near miss involving an owl, an engorgement charm from a nearby group, and five Ravenclaws, the group decided that it was time to go, taking one final look around the hall, then walking out in preparation to board the carriages.

'Wait a second.' Albus muttered something as they paused by the double doors. Arcturus Black shrieked, and they all went out laughing, and were still laughing when they boarded the carriages for their final journey on the Hogwarts Express. As the carriages clattered off Addie stared critically at her friends, leaning back against the lumpy, straw-stuffed seat, and said gently- 'Albus, my dear, it's because we greatly admire you that I am saying this, we're- I'm-' She corrected after catching sight of Elphias' glare 'I'm still not convinced by the beard-'

Meanwhile hundreds of miles away, a boy with golden curls was striding down a dingy, darkened corridor, lit only by guttering candles, a small smile curling his lips. His plan had worked almost perfectly. Almost … but almost never got anyone anywhere. Ideally, he'd really required a year more here, a few months at any rate, a few months to research more, do some more preparations, gain some more support … learn a little more. Still, it could have been a lot worse … after all, if he was sent to Tante Bagshot's he was a lot closer to finding … them. The Peverells had lived in Godric's Hollow after all, and it was rumoured one of them was buried there, according to some sources at any rate. Well, it wasn't the elder wand, but it was most certainly a start … yes …

Packing had only taken a couple of minutes. If he was brutally honest, he'd packed the minute he'd been caught. He was exceedingly clever, he'd known exactly what would happen. After that he'd spent a further half an hour packing and wringing his hands, thinking. He always thought better on the move, which was perhaps why Durmstrang had been so disastrous for him, he didn't do well sitting still. It was essential that he knew what he was doing before he re-entered that office. He had to be a step ahead. He wouldn't show hesitation … of fear…

Afternoon, 1st July 1899, Durmstrang Institute of Magic, Scandanavia

The feeling of dread which had settled heavily in Inke's stomach wasn't going away. She should've known that something like this would happen, it wasn't a surprise, not really. Still, the minute that owl had landed on her kitchen windowsill the feeling of sickness had overcome her. Why now? Why me? Why couldn't he have lasted a couple more weeks? Everything was going so well … now …

Am I damned? Inke Dobileit wondered, for hating him. My own flesh and blood, and I recoil from him. Surely God has something to say about that. She signed again, as she had been doing a lot that day. It wasn't as if she hadn't tried, she thought, defiantly. When she had taken him in she had done so with an open mind, completely prepared to make allowances for the boy's undoubtedly troubled upbringing, if it could be described as un upbringing at all. He'd been so beautiful, and I mistook that for goodness … With the benefit of hindsight, perhaps the fact that the boy had gone through four guardians in six years, of which he had spent the majority of five at Durmstrang, that they were some of the most level headed, patient people she knew, and that not one of them was willing to take him back, should have said something. As it was she had ignored the signs. None of her numerous attempts to reach him, to reign him in, had worked; he had come to her a brilliant, but uncontrolled and uncontrollable child, with an insatiable curiosity, and none of that had changed as he aged. She had changed more than he had. As a matter of fact, he had got worse … wilder, more curious … until his curiosity, his brilliance, his mind, had turned from complex, but ultimately light-hearted pranks and school work to … other… aspects of magic.

Then, then, Inke had known that she had made a truly terrible mistake. Her own babies were terrified of the boy, and she could not find out, or put her finger on, exactly why. Her husband barely tolerated his presence in the summer, and had been trying to foist the child on someone, anyone, else, for months. The school term time was now heaven in her house, as he was not there … But he could be so charming when he wanted to be … it disgusted her, terrified her … as, in some respects, at least, for Inke was much cleverer and more perceptive than she was generally given credit for, she knew he had won the battle he had apparently been engaged with with Inke and Johann since the day they had opened their door to him. He should have been grateful, grateful for a new start … She felt guilty for getting rid of him, felt like a failure for being unable to reach him. He was the cause of all the if onlys in her head. If only we'd taken him in sooner. If only his parents had lived, poor little schatz … and worst of all, if only I'd done more … loved him more … been able to reach and redirect him from that strange, dark place his mind inhabited … If only I could make him understand … Inke knew it was hopeless, a waste of time to wonder, he had been too far gone when they had got him. Still, she still felt guilty, sitting there in Cheynov's office, making plans to get rid of the young man in her care … not least because I thought we wouldn't have to deal with him for another couple of weeks …

'… Madam.' Inke jerked in her seat, she had been so lost in her reveries that whatever the Grandmaster had just said had passed her by completely. It reminded her of being back at school, sitting in this office, reminded her of seven years of tellings off, of fear of the Grand Master, even though he looked much older, and frailer now.

'I apologise. I am afraid I did not catch that last part.' The concern was plain on Cheynov's pale, lined face, which was just on the wrong side of wizened, as well as something alarmingly close to sympathy. That in itself only engorged Inke's feelings of concern and guilt. Cheynov had been a master when Inke and Johann themselves had attended the school. Of course, they had all been younger then, but still, it was unnerving to see Cheynov looking as beaten down as he did now, as old, and he had certainly never been sympathetic … Johann always said that his left hand bore witness to that … Her main recollection of him had been when he had yelled at her until she cried hot salt tears in this very, freezing, dingy office, while she had sat on this same roughly carved dark wood, incredibly uncomfortable chair, for being out of bounds out of hours. What Gellert did must have been worse than he wrote … oh Merlin …

'Completely understandable, Ma'am, given these … unfortunate … circumstances. To clarify, I was just wondering what precisely you plan to do about your ... charge.'

'Oh, of course. My aunt, Miss Bathilda Bagshot, has agreed to take him. In England. She has little experience with young people, having no family of her own, of course, but it seems a … suitable … home for Gellert, given her academics.' They exchanged a meaningful look, is this really a good plan? I can't keep him though … Oh Tante Batty, what am I preparing to do to you? The guilt twisted in her gut and whispered. Cheynov's face made a gallant attempt at looking reassured, but failed miserably, managing a pained, slightly constipated, look instead.

'Gellert seemed to know that this is what would happen. He did not seem concerned or disturbed in the slightest. It should make a nice change for the boy.' We both know what you mean. At that moment, Inke felt a connection with the terror of her schooldays, which she had never expected. He's as petrified as me, he knows what this child could become, he wants Gellert as far from him as possible, like me.

'He does seem to have an incredible knack for picking things up.' Message received, and understood, master. 'There is some seer blood in the family, perhaps that-' Inke's reply died in her throat due to a light known at the door. Please no, she cringed. Cheynov seemed to be collecting himself.

'Come in please.' He said in a remarkably calm voice, all things considered. There he was. Gold where Inke was dark. Tall to her short. Merry and wild where she was careworn, ageing, scared. Why did he have to be so beautiful? Like the thin layer of ice on the lake in winter, that lured you in with the promise of skating, only to crack and pull you down, down into a watery grave. Yes, even wolves can be beautiful, especially those in lamb's clothes.

'Hallo, Tante.' He said heartily, smiling brilliantly at her as per usual. It unnerved her, how friendly he could appear when he wanted to, how perfect his façade was. 'I am ready to go. Luckily, everyone else was in class so packing was a lot faster.' Yes, she pondered, absently, sometimes he could even seem truly childlike, if he had ever been … innocent, almost.

Inke collected herself again surrepticiously. 'Gellert.' Her voice sounded strangely high pitched. 'We are going home first, then in two hours' time Onkle Johann has managed to get a portkey to take you to Grosstante Bagshot's.' If it was possible, his smile had grown even wider, but that was one of his tics, she thought. She took an almost perverse pleasure in the knowledge of his poor English. Serves you right!

'In Godric's Hollow, ja?' Perhaps not a tic … but his English? He then turned from her to Cheynov, still grinning widely, looking slightly wild, and bid him farewell with a remarkably polite bow. The cuckoo in the nest. The adder in the grass. With a careless flick of his curved wand (another dangerous sign, her mama had always said. Twisted wand means twisted wizard, and Gellert's wand was a spiral, case in point), his trunk and tawny owl (yet another unsuccessful attempt to connect with him; he had liked the owl though) appeared at his side. Then, like a perfect little gentleman, he held out his left arm to Inke, still smiling. Determined not to show weakness, she stood and smoothed her skirts gracefully before taking the proffered arm, suppressing a shiver. His uniform jacket was cold and rough, yet another thing she hadn't missed from school. As her nephew gently guided her out of the room she could have sworn that Cheynov mouthed 'good luck' at her, smiling sadly, and a tad ruefully. Later, however, she was certain that she had imagined that part.

Despite her nerves, it took Inke less than ten minutes to apparate, with Gellert alongside her, back home. It didn't really feel like home anymore, however. Physically, everything was exactly the same as she had left it, down to the last neatly arranged flower bed and intricately carved plank in the door. Still, something, something was subtly within the atmosphere, as it always was when he was around. Before entering, Inke halted them on the cool stone of the doorstep.

'Once we go in, you go and collect anything you want from your room. If you leave anything behind by accident, just write and we will send it on. Be quiet and don't disturb the babies, remember, children should be seen but not heard. Be quick, as well, as the portkey leaves soon. Chop, chop.' She shooed him inside before her, and, for once, he did as instructed, dashing up the stairs. Only a few more blessed minutes, thank Merlin and Morgana.

Gellert's gaze slid distractedly around what had been his room. It was almost identical to the rooms he had occupied at his parents', Gallus', Lenorte's, Lida's … and presumably the one he would occupy at Frauline Bagshot's … England couldn't really be that different. Like all of his rooms, except the one at his parent's house, which if he was honest with himself he barely remembered, it had, before he arrived, been the spare room, with a small wooden bed, basic dark carved wood washstand (with blue-patterned porcelain accessories), desk, closet and bedstand, panelled walls with various floral papers on the unpanelled bits, and pale lace curtains. Basically characterless, despite Inke's various attempts to make it homely and comfortable, with an assortment of knickknacks and homemade colourful rugs (one of Inke's specialties which adorned all of the family's rooms), which, if she'd known him at all, she would have realised he couldn't live with. He had always been told that he should be grateful to those who took him in, should love them, but how could he … he knew full well that they viewed him as a burden, and a strange one at that. It had always been that way, he had to rely on himself, anything else was a distraction. In this vein, the rugs may or may not have been destroyed in a not entirely accidental potions accident last year. Well, Inke had thought it was an accident at any rate, and that was all that mattered … he smiled slightly, Inke was so naïve.

There wasn't that much he actually had to collect together, as most of his possessions had gone with him to Durmstrang and so were already packed and ready … he was good at packing now at any rate. He strode across the room to get a couple books, which he hadn't dared take to Durmstrang in case they got found, from where he'd hidden them under a loose floorboard, and some old parchments and supplies from his desk. That was pretty much it. Time to go.

Until … that was when it hit him, causing the objects he was carrying to clatter to the flood, a red ink bottle smashing all over the parchments and books, ruining them, as he twisted and fell to the flood holding in a scream, in agony, tasting coppery blood as the red ink stained his jacket…

His eyes rolled back into his head and he saw … red hair, felt heat, blue skies … no eyes, … for teenagers, one of them himself, two red-headed, blue-eyed boys and a blonde girl, the two other boys were screaming at each other … but he couldn't make out the words … a black mass was writhing in a basement room … now a city of bright, artificial lights … old parchments spread across a wooden floor … now grass, soft to the touch … now wood again … the sun dancing across them, full of dust mote … then … a phoenix … a bright smile … someone laughing as intricate spells and lights danced … then, finally, it was there- the elder wand … in his hand … a mess of curses … he was cold, so very, very cold …

Gellert jerked up, gasping painfully for breath and spitting blood, as always following these visions, his chest felt constricted, his mouth dry, his whole body aching from his fall and his head splitting open. Still, his throat felt fine, meaning he hadn't screamed, a vision hadn't made him do that since he was nine, only his parents had known he had them, and it was a secret he intended to keep under wraps. Hmm, looks like this will be an interesting success of a summer. Who had all those people been? Gellert didn't have much time to ponder, however, as, as he removed his stained and sweat soaked shirt in disgust, his uncle bellowed up the stairs.

'Verdammt, Gellert, du schwein, was los? You've missed the bloody portkey! I can't get another for two weeks! You're paying for the new one! You absolute-' (Ah! Back to normal then!)

This chapter was an absolute horror to write for a number of reasons, including exams and the fact that my laptop decided to delete half of it, and may be looked at again later. I also realised I had messed up my timeline a little and had to alter it. Inke is not particularly reliable by the way. I hope you are enjoying this, as I am loving writing it, although another chapter probably won't be posted for a couple of weeks as that is when my exams end. Please review as that would be really helpful! Also super exited with the new Fantastic Beasts news! Yay! :) PS I promise they'll meet in a couple chapters maximum!