The Three Broomsticks

"Once, but... I was very small." Nicolas admitted.

A blue pheonix appeared in front of Nick with a letter in her beak she dropped it in to Nicks hand and dissapeared again.

((have him open it to know what it says))

"Well that was odd..." Nicolas said opening the letter in his hand.

"Mr. Casillas,

Due to familly emergency your presents is requiered in the Headmistress office ASAP.

signed
Headmistess Kiara."

Amy looked over at him.

"What is it?"

"I have to go to the Headmistress Office..." Nicolas said in a gaze. "Something doesn't feel right..."

((Somewhere down the road from above . . . after Durmstrang & Beauxbatons students arrive))


Boris strode into the pub known as the Three Broomsticks. It looked to be a popular spot, and anywhere popular is where you will find Boris: directly in the thick of things. The place was crowded, though judging by the way orders were taken and received for food and drink, the proprietor was used to such activity.

"What'll you 'ave?" called the proprietor, clearly asking Boris this question.

"Butterbeer, please!" he replied over the noise. If he wanted something else, he would ask for it.

Wending his way to an empty table, Boris surveyed the goings on with interest. As he'd anticipated, he didn't seem to know anyone there. Until he just happened to spot someone whom he would never forget even if Obliviated and hit in the head with a bludger shortly afterward. . .

"NICOLAS!!" Boris shouted over the crowd. He immediately half-stood on his chair, arms raised in an attempt to get the fellow teen's attention.

Nicolas who'd been chatting with a few of his Gryffindor mates looked up at the sound of his name.

"Boris?" He said wildly. "Boris Kaminski?"

And sure enough his gaze fell upon a faux hawk. "Boris! What a surprise!"

Jumping down the few inches from his chair, Boris approached the table where Nick sat and grinned. "A surprise indeed! How is Hogvarts treating my friend and adopted brother, eh?" Boris practically crowed, overjoyed to find someone he knew here.

"Do you have extra room? I vill join you if they don't mind," he asked, glancing at the other people around the table. Any friend of Nick's was a friend of his. "And if they do mind, they'd probably be out of luck," he added, with a laugh to indicate that he may have been joking on that one - may have.

"Of course we have room," Nicolas said pulling out his wand. He gave it a flick and it moved the people around the table to one side. There was a very sharp rumble among his fellow Gryffindors because of it. He gave his wand another flick and poof a chair appeared.

"This is my cousin Diana Casillas, her friend Helena Capulet, Michael Thomas and Sid Finnagan." Nicolas said introducing everyone at the table.

"Everyone, this is Boris, my brother. Boris! What in Merlin's name are you doing here?"

Boris met the eyes of each person Nick named, giving a deeper nod of his head to the ladies than the gentlemen. "It is a pleasure to meet you all," Boris replied semi-boisterously before sitting down at the offered chair.

"Vy, the Trivizard Tournament is vot brings me here. Didn't you know about it? Your Headmistress vos kind enough to host the event in my school's stead," Boris asked and subsequently explained with a grin that looked rather mischievous. His words were true, though. "I intend to enter for Durmstrang."

"Of course!" Nicolas said banging his hand to his head. "How could I have forgotten?"

"You're planning to enter? Well then, there goes my plans to enter, I won't compete against you, though we both know who'd win if I did." Nicolas joked.

"Yes, ve vould," Boris began agreeably, "But I vould promise to go easy on you, if you did," the young man countered with a hearty stream of laughter.

"So, vot has my brother been up to since he has been avay? Getting into plenty of trouble, same as alvays? The Con-kvees-tadors ((Conquistadors)) feel that it is just not the same vith vone founder. " Boris wondered if Nick remembered the secret group they both had founded. How he could have forgotten, Merlin only knew, but the thought crossed his mind nonetheless.

Nicolas rolled his eyes in a playful manner, "It's Con-keys-tadors, Boris, have you forgotten everything I've taught you since I left?"

"And yes actually, I've gotten one of two detentions since I've transfered here." Nicolas said crossing his arms. "Have you been doing justice to our troops?"

The grin already present on Boris' face stretched even further. "Of course not. Vot are brothers for if not to drive them crazy every vonce in a vhile?" he laughed.

"Only vone or two?" Boris questioned, mimicking Nick's pattern of arm-crossing, one eyebrow raised in doubt. "Vot is keeping you out of trouble for so long? I must have gotten five detentions in that amount of time!" he boasted, which was in fact a complete lie: he'd only managed two, himself.

"And yes, the troops are vell, and justice has been done. They are all here as delegates, you know? Up at the school. Vell, almost all of them: Gleb Zimmerman. . . he died shortly after term started. Professor Petrov. . ." Boris explained, but stopped abruptly. It was a rather publicized ordeal for Durmstrang, and an embarrassment. If Nick didn't know about it, then Boris would tell the whole thing only because they were "adopted brothers" and that Conquistadors told each other practically everything. But if Nick did know. . . then there was no need to go into detail right here and out in the open.

"I vould not be surprised if they stopped into the village eventually," he changed the subject.

"I think I'm responsible for my cousin's lack of detentions." Diana said sounding none-too-apologetic.

"Yes, she's a Prefect, I can't really get away with half of he things I could back at Durmstrang." Nicolas said throwing Diana a glance.

"What happened to Gleb?" Nicolas asked, he genuinely didn't know.

Boris smiled, amused at Diana's statement. "Ah, that explains much," he said after a few moments, giving Nick a sideways glance. It was too bad this girl, Diana, wasn't introduced to him as Nick's girlfriend instead of as his cousin. "Detentions apparently aren't a thing to boast about here, I take it?"

Before answering Nick's question, Boris glanced at each member of the table in turn again in an attempt to size up their general feelings toward Durmstrang students and staff. When he couldn't really tell, Boris decided he might as well say it. He wouldn't keep this from Nick, not out of pleasure but because he had a right to know, being friends with the lad. "You truly do not know?" Boris asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"He vos staying after class vith Professor Petrov - you remember the class he teaches, right? - qvite a lot at start of term. There vere a few others, but most of the senior-most-level Conquistadors vere there as vell. Ve vere learning some pretty interesting stuff after hours. . . stuff your Ministry vouldn't approve of. Oh, vot the hell, I may as vell say it: Horcruxes.

"In making an example artifact, Professor Petrov killed Gleb, though I'm not sure how he did it. I vos there, yes, but the theory vos mind-boggling...

"But before you hex me for not stopping the Professor, I must tell you that the moment ve realized Gleb vos no more, ve - the Conquistadors, that is - got him back in part for it. Backfiring Jinx, among several other vandvork of the sort. Aurors arrived shortly aftervard to handle the matter," Boris explained the whole tale. There was a glint in his brown eyes that should've clearly said to Nick, 'And our only regret is that ve didn't get a chance to finish the job.'

Realizing his butterbeer had arrived, Boris held his glass up high, "To Gleb, who vosn't afraid to die for higher education, and vould hate to see us mourn!" he cheered, adding the last bit to explain his actions to the others at the table. It was common in Russian upbringing - or Boris' upbringing anyway - to realize death need not be feared like it commonly was in the west, and that it should not be an entirely solemn affair.


((I hope this account of events is suitable given the timeline... And Prof. Petrov taught the Dark Arts, obviously ^_^ If not, then I can edit it if need be...))

((No it's great! And sometimes I like to be give the challenge to write around stuffs))

Nicolas got Boris' private message to him. He would ask about it in more detail without his Gryffindor mates. They weren't exactly excited for the Dark Arts to say the least. In fact, Diana gave him a very interesting look that said she'd ask him about at a later date.

His fellow housemates looked from Boris to Nicolas."To Gleb!" Nicolas raised his own Butterbeer. They followed suit.

However, Diana wasn't distracted. "Horcruxes? You were being taught how to create Horcruxes?" She said incredious. She was far from pleased.

((Okay, cool! And yeah, that's another reason why I haven't written anything for publishing - I like to write around other people's input, too))


Boris took a gulp of his butterbeer after the verbal portion of the toast was made, and returned the glass to the table. Normally, the standard superstition was to not return a glass to the table if there was still something in it. But, seeing as how that only applied to alcohol, Boris imagined he could get away with "breaking" the custom here. Too bad if not, for he'd already done it. Let the fates decide what they will.

At Diana's question, the Kaminski lad became guarded. "I did say it vosn't exactly approved of," he returned matter-of-factly. "And the vone responsible vos stopped before it got any further. If I could not figure out the theory, none of the others vill have riddled it out, either." Boris added, with a slightly defensive edge. Truth be told, he wasn't quite sure what to make of Nick's cousin. It seemed clear enough that she didn't particularly approve of a lot of things.

Diana furrowed her brow. "But someone died of it," she looked at Nicolas for help. "And isn't that what Voldemort did to ensure himself not to die? It's extremely dark magic."

"I just said that," Boris nodded in agreement tinged with annoyance, his brow furrowing with a lack of comprehension at what she was getting at. "And it vos, according to textbook. But anything that could allow us to further the study on our own vos taken out of Durmstrang as evidence against Professor Petrov.

"And furthermore," Boris continued, "Even my second cousin, who vos Petrov's friend, couldn't get a job there just because they vere friends, according to my sources anyvay. The screening for teachers has since then been increased in intensity, and all those involved are for the most part vatched like a hawk until the end of our Qvidditch season." What Boris didn't mention, however, was that the secret library beneath Durmstrang Institute - entirely untouched by prying Ministry officials. And, of course, the convenient stipulation that Triwizard Champions would be saved such an embarrassment by being let off of surveillance early. Nick would likely be amused to hear that, but it would have to wait.

"Vill any of you be competing for Hogvarts Champion in this upcoming tournament?" he asked, deciding to try and change the subject right then and there. Boris did not want to create a wedge in his and Nick's brotherhood of sorts by arguing with Diana. He wasn't quite sure how close the cousins were of late.

Diana wanted to argue more but she let the subject drop. She'd just have to question Nicolas later.

"I might,"Helena said. "I mean, I think I'd like the prize money. 1000 galleons."

"Yeah," Michael said. "Or just the fame."

"Well, brother, as I said," Nicolas replied. "I was planning to, but since you're doing I don't think I will."

"The glory is vot attracted me," Boris nodded to Michael. He didn't need to mention that the Kaminski family was pretty well off even if his portion of the family tree hadn't inherited ownership of the Kaminski Dacha, which was now more like a Mansion than anything. "Should ve be chosen as Champions for our respective schools, it vill be an honor to compete against either of you."

Then Boris turned to Nick. "Vell, I still have to be picked by the Goblet to represent Durmstrang, don't I? You might still have a chance," Boris remarked, and gave his "brother" an encouraging slap on the back. "Don't tell me you vouldn't be sitting at the table slapping yourself if you didn't at least submit your name in the event I'm not selected, because I know you vould be - if not physically then mentally for sure!" Boris said with a slight snicker hidden behind his words. Okay so he wasn't really that certain, but Boris imagined it rather clearly.

"And thwart your chances?" Nicolas said taking another sip of his Butterbeer.


"Haha. Alright I'll tell you the real reason why I don't plan to compete," Nicolas said in an undertone. "Diana is."

Boris laughed into his own glass of butterbeer at Nick's statement before taking a sip. "Who says you vill? Perhaps it is best if you didn't enter - I vouldn't vant to hinder your chances," he countered, using basically the same words. "And I'm not the type to offer false hope," Boris added, as a side-joke only Durmstrang-goers would have been familiar with: it was common to see Boris build up someone's confidence and then watch as it crashed down around their ears, provided he didn't like or know the person that well to begin with. However, as a delegate, Boris was warned by certain members of his family that he needed to behave himself - at least a little - while he was abroad.

He leaned a little toward Nick in order to hear what he was saying. The moment Boris heard the news his eyebrows raised in surprised realization. "Ah, I see," he stated, glancing at the others but lingering a little longer on Diana than the others.

"Please, do not let my inclusion interrupt you from your conversation. I vould be ... honored, I believe is the correct vord ... to learn about you," he offered congenially enough, despite his annoyance toward Diana.