"Vitya, are you coming to Hogwarts for the holidays?"

"I don't know, am I?" Viktor stared pointedly into the slightly rippling visage of his mother as she spoke to him through the communication mirrors.

Milena Krum frowned at him, crossing her arms as she did so. "I don't like that tone you're taking with me, Viktor Grigoriev."

"I just figured that since you're omniscient you'd know whether I'm coming to visit you," he said, rolling his eyes. While he normally wouldn't take such a tone, as Maika had called him out on, he was physically exhausted and emotionally drained.

"I'm not omniscient. I'm simply—"

"Prescient, I know, I know." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look. Am I coming or not? I'd really like to go to bed and get some rest."

Her irritated scowl melted into a concerned frown. "You do look tired. Is everything alright?"

He began to nod, then shook his head, then settled for a half-hearted shrug. "I'm not sure. Karkaroff gathered all the sixth and seventh years in the middle of the night a few nights ago to tell us of a tournament that's occurring next year between Durmstrang, Hogwarts, and Beauxbatons. He told us we'll have to compete against each other to make it if we want to go."

Milena's brow arched. "Did he now? Interesting."

"Has the headmaster at Hogwarts spoken of it?" he asked curiously.

She shook her head. "No. He hasn't told the students anything. Right now, I think he and the other professors are a bit distracted. There was a breakout from Britain's magical prison and the prisoner, some wizard named Sirius Black, keeps trying to get onto the grounds. I just don't think the tournament is on their minds."

"A prisoner?" he repeated, horrified. "Are you safe? Is Hermione safe?"

Milena touched the mirror affectionately, making her appearance ripple for a moment. "Don't worry, moya sin. We're fine. So. Christmas. Would you like to come? I heard that a certain student will be staying over the holidays…"

Despite his utter exhaustion, he felt himself tense. "Really? She is?"

His mother's smile was knowing. "Why don't you come and see for yourself?"

"I will." His reply was immediate.

"Excellent. Oh, and Viktor?"

"Yes?"

"Practice your Episky, won't you?"

o-O-o

Days later, Viktor still couldn't figure out what Maika could possibly have meant by telling him to practice his Episky. Practice it for what? It was an elementary spell. It fixed broken things. What could be so difficult about it?

And yet, despite all his groaning and complaining, her advice rarely steered him wrong, so he had spent the last few evenings dutifully breaking and then repairing a variety of objects. Books, vases, shoes, specs, phials...anything he could conceive of needing a repair, he'd tried to tackle. By the time he stood in front of Hogwarts' gates, he wagered he could perform an Episky in his sleep.

"Vitya, I'm so glad to see you." The comforting shine of his mother's chestnut curls in the weak winter light greeted him as she strode toward him and embraced him, bussing him first on one cheek and then the other. "Was the Portkey awful?"

"No." He set his trunk to float beside them as they made their way up the path and into the tall, imposing castle looming ahead of them. "I'm used to them by now—I take them from school to the Stadium for Quidditch practice all the time."

"Karkaroff let you do that?" she asked, surprised.

Dryly, he replied, "There's not much he's saying no to for me these days." If possible, his tone turned drier. "I'm a celebrity now, after all."

Milena glanced over at him, her mouth curling. "You, me, and the rest of the family. Speaking of—did Kosta tell you he was coming?"

"He is?"

"Yes. Calista opted to go to Greece for the holidays to see Sofiya—" Calista's newly minted niece, "but Kosta wanted to come. He said he'd be interested in seeing Hogwarts."

"Perfect." Viktor's smile was unfeigned. Kosta coming meant Viktor could shove him into a snowbank for suggesting that he give Hermione that stupid enchanted mirror.

"Would you like me to show you to your room? The Headmaster delightfully asked the castle to summon up an unused guest suite from somewhere and put it next to mine."

Viktor peered up at the high vaulted ceilings and into an enormous room with long benches and tables. It was so different from Durmstrang already, and he'd hardly been inside. That wouldn't stop him from finding Hermione, however. "No. I'll find it later. I want to explore a bit."

"May I recommend the seventh floor?" his mother said innocently. "There are some very interesting rooms up there. Or perhaps, if you're feeling, hm, studious, the library might be more your speed."

"The library? Why would I want to—" Viktor's mind caught up with his mouth and he said, "Right. The library. I love books. Where is it?"

She gave him directions and he set off at a rapid clip after shrinking his trunk and putting it in the pocket of his thick winter robes. His nerves made him tense, his stride long and ground eating as he climbed the stairs.

Halfway up the fourth floor, the staircase trembled beneath him and the entire thing moved, changing direction. He gave a yelp of surprise, clutching onto the banister as it did so, and had to suffer the snickers from a portrait hanging on the wall nearby.

"Foreigners," the dark garbed figure in the landscape said. "Stupid curs, the lot of them."

Viktor scowled at the wizard. "I wouldn't go pointing figures when you're wearing an enormous ruff around your neck and what looks to be curtains."

The wizard drew back, affronted, as he rearranged his voluminous robes. "These aren't curtains, you ill-bred knave, they're—"

"Hideous." Viktor flashed a tight smile and gave the portrait a two-fingered salute as he ran up the next flight of stairs once they'd aligned with the landing he'd ended up on.

"Insulting portraits," he muttered as he made his way to the next floor and started down a corridor. "Unbelievable. At Durmstrang—"

A short blur composed of hair, denims, and what felt like a cudgel rammed into him as it hurtled around a corner. In the ensuing collision, Viktor heard something crunch in a very painful sounding manner as books spilled everywhere and a feminine voice began cursing in a nasal, high-pitched voice.

"—bahtch bhere you're going, you…" Her voice trailed off as the both of them, now back on their feet, came eye to eye. "Biktor?"

Viktor's mouth ran dry. "Hermione?"

It's Christmas time at Hogwarts, babyyyyy *smirks* happy hols for our residents morons, who I love to torture 3

Does anyone have any recs for fics? I'm open to almost any pairing!