Chapter Text
Tino had come home with Berwald during their first year, his parents having planned a trip to visit some old friends from their college days. Tino didn’t care much for watching his dad try to explain his high school years to a bunch of middle-aged adults with equally nosy Muggle kids, so accepting Berwald’s suggestion to come with him for the holidays had been a no-brainer.
Of course he knew the Oxenstiernas had historically been very anti-Muggle. Durmstrang Institute wasn’t somewhere a lot of people with Muggle-heavy bloodlines went. Tino had been told more than once he was lucky to even be attending. Still, he’d had quite a shock when they’d stepped through the door and the Finnish boy had nearly been hit in the head by a silver knife.
Berwald had yanked him out of the way just in time.
“You alright?” he asked the wide-eyed blond.
“Wow,” Tino breathed, before suddenly leaning forward to take a closer look at the knife. “That was awesome, how fast did it fly? What spells? I’ve gotta learn how to do that, that was so cool—”
“Tino, my house jus’ tried t’ kill you. That thing was aimin’ for y’ brains.”
“So. Freaking. Cool.” He reached out to touch the utensil.
Berwald yanked him back as another knife went for the Finn. Thankfully, his parents had arrived just in time to halt the system before anyone could get hurt.
Berwald had been very glad that his parents, though skeptical of his choices in friends, weren’t as murderous as his house. Tino had spent the rest of the holiday alternating between exploring the mansion and getting patched up by an increasingly concerned Mr. and Mrs. Oxenstierna.
The family’s house-elf soon found herself helping her young master with hanging blankets over screeching portraits and locking doors to rooms that were definitely trapped with anti-pureblood security measures.
Tino claimed it was the best winter break of his life. Berwald had quietly promised his poor heart to never let Tino come back with him for the holidays ever again.
At least until he could Tino-proof the house.
.
It was Christmas Eve at Hogwarts and the five Durmstrang students staying at the castle had gathered in their dorm room, in anticipation of the pre-Christmas celebration they’d cobbled together over the past few years.
It began at seven on the dot, with a tournament of Exploding Snap for Mathias, Lukas, and Emil, and Wizard’s Chess for Berwald and Tino. The two winners would then duke it out via a game of Enchanted Gobstones. While Tino and Lukas much preferred Gobstones, it had proved to be too boring for people like Mathias who had the attention span of a pixie. Therefore, the most reasonable compromise had been to “re-enchant” several Gobstone marbles for more creative purposes.
“Ha!” Mathias crowed, his marble sending three of Berwald’s out of the ring. Berwald covered his face as jets of mustard were shot at him from three different directions.
When the assault ended, Berwald aimed and sent two of Mathias’ marbles flying. They rolled under Lukas’ bed, from where they proceeded to drench the Danish boy in soda.
It was a messy game, but generally, the only part of the room that got dirty tended to be the floor around the duelers. What usually happened was they’d end up playing on the porch of whoever’s house they were at, and request either the Bondevik’s or the Oxentierna’s house-elf to help them clean up the mess, lest the Underage Magic office come after them. But since they were at Hogwarts, there was no need to call for outside assistance, and Lukas, Emil, and Tino took delight in watching condiments bounce off their Shield Charms.
.
Tino was fiercely competitive when he wanted to be. It was how he’d earned his place on the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team one week into his Hogwarts adventure.
Wizard’s chess was no exception. And he’d found a great partner in Berwald.
His classmate, even at the wonderful age of eleven, was considered “scary”, and Tino had to agree. Berwald’s smile was a rather pinched one, like his facial muscles didn’t quite know how to form the movements. His glares were ten times worse, and Tino was eternally grateful that he was never on the receiving end of one of Berwald’s anger outbursts.
And his thinking face was enough to scare almost everyone away.
Everyone except, apparently, Tino.
They’d been awkward at first. Berwald’s awkward nature didn’t match very well with Tino’s energetic social energy. But they’d bonded after Tino saw Berwald playing chess against himself on the dorm’s stone floor, and decided to join him.
Tino found that beneath the scary exterior was a mischievous Swedish boy who was incredibly petty and just as determined to win as Tino was. And suddenly, Tino was no longer quite as nervous about sharing most of his waking hours with the guy one bunk over.
Wizard’s chess was their game.
.
Berwald won, to Mathias’ dismay, and after the two cleaned themselves up, they headed outside to the castle grounds. The ground was covered in fresh snow from a snowfall that morning.
They were from northern Europe, where large amounts of snow was a perfectly normal occurrence. When you were a bit sick of being indoors and it was much too cold and dark to properly fly a broom around, the next best option for fun was chucking snowy balls of doom at your friends.
Evidently, three months of what Tino was calling “boot camp from hell” had made his friends into absolute masters of the snowball fight, or at least, of dumping snow down one’s back without them noticing. “The easiest prank to pull if someone likes walking around outside a big ol’ castle”, according to Mathias. But Tino was determined not to lose, and while Lukas schemed with Emil behind their fort, Tino whispered his own plans to Berwald.
Hogwarts students were the masters when it came to mischief magic. A quick bewitching of the snowballs in their possession, and soon Mathias was shrieking murderous insults as a barrage of snowballs were sent his way. While Lukas complained he was being noisy, Emil slipped away from his brother’s side in time to avoid the small avalanche Tino caused to fall over the Norweigens’ fort via a well-aimed disarming spell.
Emil, of course, took pictures and laughed as Mathias tripped over his best friend. Tino had cheered in delight, turning in time to receive a faceful of snow from Berwald, who’d apparently decided all alliances were off and not even the bond for five years of close friendship could make him cede the fight. Emil got his own snowballs chucked at him for laughing at Tino’s betrayed look.
They’d returned to their warm dormitories, faces red and hats askew and friendly banter filling the space between them.
.
After warming up, Lukas brought out Phase Three: a plethora of treats that had been snuck out of the kitchen with help from Emil. Licorice, fudge, treacle tarts, and a small mountain of other sweets that Tino was fairly certain would land them all sick in the Hospital Wing the next day were all piled onto a table stolen from the common room, and they feasted, having carefully eaten a lighter dinner in preparation.
The feast started right after Tino and Mathias snuck down to Ivan Braginsky’s secret stash and came back with firewhisky and vodka.
Tino entertained the table with tales of the misadventures he’d gotten up to, since his letters hadn’t usually made it in one piece to the others, and in turn they told him about the small acts of rebellion they’d pulled while their headmaster’s back was turned.
“We haven’t got big joke shops up there, of course, but oh! The things we put together!” Mathias laughed. The dark bags previously under his eyes had almost disappeared, and the Danish boy’s grin seemed lighter than it had just a few days prior. “You should’ve seen Belchy-boy’s face when he went to look for his hat and found it on top of one of the towers, of course that was all me—”
“Don’t forget how many times Emil cast the Freezing Spell on the floor right outside his office,” Lukas added. “With all those dark corridors, there was no way he was going to see that coming. Well, unless he thought to look down properly, of course.”
“I’m getting quite good at ice spells,” Emil commented through a mouthful of licorice. “And making things boil. Did you know, I can almost do it nonverbally now?”
“Wait, seriously?” Tino exclaimed. “That’s post-O.W.L. magic, isn’t it?”
“Well, yeah, that’s probably why I can’t quite do it yet,” Emil told him. “But I’m close. I know I am.”
“Okay.”
“See? Ber gets it!”
“Mm.”
Their stomachs full of sugar and calories, they elected to just lie around the room while they digested. Tino made tiny snowflakes with a spell he’d learned from his fellow Hufflepuff Matthew, Berwald finished knitting a scarf for his mother, and Emil took photographs of Lukas using the excuse of “cleaning out Mathias’ trunk” to quietly enchant the Danish boy’s quills while Mathias was distracted by Mr. Puffin.
Said bird had been told by his sweet, innocent owner to badger Mathias relentlessly for food. Suffice to say, Mathias had his hands full.
Tino was also pretty sure that Mathias would be completely oblivious to whatever Lukas was doing. He remembered a letter he’d been sent back at the start of the year from Berwald, in which the Swedish boy had mentioned that Lukas had managed to slip around ten mousetraps into Mathias’ suitcase before they’d gotten to school. The letter from Mathias three days later had confirmed that there had been mousetraps in the trunk, though Mathias had seemed to think that was a normal thing to carry around “for protection against thieves”.
Lukas suddenly hissed in pain, and Emil started laughing.
It seemed that Mathias had not, in fact, removed the mousetraps.
.
Tino had gone to the Bondeviks’ for the holidays during his third year. By then, he’d become good friends with Lukas and Mathias, and with Berwald joining them, Tino knew they’d have a good time. And considering they were staying at the Bondeviks’ new Icelandic vacation home, there was bound to be plenty of fun with hot springs and beautiful scenery just down the road. In Tino’s opinion, at least.
Ignoring the fact that there was going to be a severe lack of sunlight and they would probably all turn into icicles. But Floo powder existed for a reason.
He’d met Emil that holiday, the then ten-year-old just as moody as he was in the present day but still enthralled by the stories the older boys told of their misadventures.
Lukas’ parents had been noticeably wary of their son’s friends, even after having met them during the summer. Tino thought it was ridiculous, but Berwald had helpfully explained it was all a bunch of bloodline squabbling, muttering to the Finn as Mathias tried to convince Lukas’ parents that no, he did not “have any interest in how they acquired their wealth, Lukas was just a really cool guy–”
“Th’ Densens and the Oxenstiernas have had their status for generations,” Berwald told him. “The Bondeviks…not so much. Dabbled in th’ fish trade, and now they’re doin’ pretty well for themselves. Not all folks like that.”
“They sure don’t! Want a list of people our grandparents pissed off?” Emil asked from behind them, and Tino choked and sputtered through his hot chocolate to Berwald’s concern and Emil’s amusement.
.
It had been Tino’s idea to invite his friends to join them in the castle’s study room around the fireplace there for the annual telling of the Night Before Christmas. He’d felt a bit bad that he’d left his friends out of the Christmas Eve fun, and who could resist the puppy eyes he was pulling?
Tino, of course, would be the one reading the tale. No one was going to deny the most Christmas-loving person in Europe his favorite part of the evening.
Of course, that meant that basically all of Tino’s Hogwarts friends had come. His Durmstrang friends had taken up a couch right next to the carefully-positioned armchair Tino himself sat in, right next to the fireplace. Alfred and Matthew shared another armchair, in the most ideal position for Alfred to shoot confetti at everyone via a bag Tino knew was hidden by Matthew’s Kneazle. Even Roderich had showed up, though it seemed that his girlfriend had dragged him there. He sat stiffly next to her as she chatted with a yawning Ravenclaw that Tino was pretty sure he’d seen sleeping in the greenhouses on more than one occasion.
“Bet you five Knuts that guy falls asleep by the time we hit the reindeer,” Tino heard Mathias whisper to Lukas.
“Make it ten, and he’s snoozing at Santa.”
“Alright, alright! Everyone comfy?” Tino called out, his voice drawing everyone’s heads towards him.
“Fifteen, and he won’t make it to the stockings,” Emil joined the betting pool, and Tino resisted the urge to bet that Heracles was already asleep. Either that, or he was immune to confetti tickling his nose every so often.
“If everyone’s ready, I’ll start now,” Tino cleared his throat, and began to read from the well-worn book on his lap.
.
Winter at Mathias’ manor was filled with sneaking brandy from the pantry, baking ginger cookies, and trying to keep Berwald as far away from Mathias’ cousins as possible.
It was harder than it looked. Mathias’ cousins had about as much self-preservation as Mathias did when it came to antagonizing Berwald, which was, to say, absolutely none. And while Berwald had no problems with giving Mathias a black eye anytime the Danish boy tried to launch himself at the Swede, he couldn’t really do the same to a bunch of kids ranging between the ages of five and nine.
At least, not without getting into some serious trouble for being a tall, buff teen essentially beating up small children.
“Ber, no. I know they dumped a bucket of flour over your head, but you can’t just dropkick them—!”
“You’re tellin’ me not t’ choose violence?”
“I don’t have my BB gun. Here’s some tape and a hot glue gun, go stick their shoes to the ceiling if you really need to get revenge.”
The Bondevik brothers, having never witnessed the peak of the original prank war before Mathias and Berwald, watched with a mix of delight and concern as the Densen cousins ran headfirst into the fray. They were doomed, of course, considering who they were up against, but at least the younger children seemed entertained.
Tino was also banned from going within three feet of fireworks and the unpulled Christmas crackers that year, which wouldn’t exactly stop him from tampering with anything, but they’d tried.
.
The last words of the story seemed to ring into the air.
Then the peace was almost instantly shattered by Alfred’s call of “I want a bazooka for Christmas!”
And then it was chaos.
“Don’t ask for that, idiot!” Matthew scolded. “Ask for something useful! Like a flying car! Or something.” His twin didn’t seem to hear him, launching into a list of reasons why bazookas were cool.
Mathias was jumping around, wondering loudly if Santa would bring him hair gel if he slept before midnight. Lukas grumbled that he was being noisy. Feliks was pestering Luca, something about maid dresses, which was a conversation Tino would not be going anywhere near.
On the other side of the room, Roderich was complaining about the price of musical instruments and how he could barely afford a new clarinet. Emil wholeheartedly agreed, and suddenly the two were sitting next to each other and discussing how astronomically hard it was to be a musician when everything cost so much money and usually in Muggle currency, too, why did Muggles have to make violins cost a fortune–
Tino made a note to make a stop at his local music store when he went home for the summer and see just how much a clarinet and violin cost.
Finally, he looked beside him. Berwald had taken the side of the couch closest to Tino, and was watching the happenings with his usual stoic expression. When he noticed Tino’s gaze, he jerked his head towards the door. “Come with me?”
Tino glanced briefly at the noisy room. “Sure, where to?”
Berwald grunted and stood up, maneuvering his way around a Mathias who was sharing a firewhisky with Matthew. Tino hurried to catch up, and hoped Lukas would keep the two out of any trouble, or at least away from their broomsticks. And maybe their wands.
The crowd was quickly left behind them, and soon the two fifth-years were walking down corridors, the only sounds coming from their footsteps and the swishing of Berwald’s long coat. The fires in the torches lining the wall cast shadows that danced as the two walked, and Tino wondered if shadows could come alive.
He wouldn’t have been surprised if they could, in a way. Natural things were the most magical of all.
They turned a corner and entered the clock tower courtyard. The ground was white with snow, nearly all of it fresh. It crunched under their feet as they made their way to the old well in the center, where they took seats on the ledge.
Tino shivered, though it was more from instinct than the temperature itself.
“It’s…nice out tonight,” he commented. “I like it more than the city. You can see the stars, even from here.”
The clouds had parted, and the skies were clear. The moon was just visible, and Tino hoped a shooting star would pass by.
“Mhm.”
“This was nice. Being with everyone, I mean. I really missed you guys, you know?” Tino sighed happily. “I kind of wish you guys could stay. Which I mean, I know you can’t, it’s a silly thought. And…I’m not sure, I might stay in Scotland after O.W.L.s.”
He smiled as he gazed up at the stars. “There’s so many creatures here, and there’s a very strong magizoology track. You can get a job in the field right out of school. I love Scandinavia, but there’s just so much I haven’t seen yet. Did you know, they let us study Fwoopers and Demiguises? They even bring them in so we can really get to see them, they’d never dare at Durmstrang. It’s much too cold for them. And—I think that’s important, you know? Hands-on experience, getting to know all sorts of creatures—”
He paused. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”
“I don’t mind.”
Tino glanced over to see Berwald staring at the ground, though whether he was glowering or in deep thought, it was a little hard to tell.
“Sorry. I’m just—really excited, I guess. Is—do you think it’s wrong for me to want to transfer?”
“Mmm…no.”
“Really?”
“‘F it makes y’ happy. Y’ should go f’r it, not like Bielke would w’nt y’ at Durmstrang anyways.”
“You have a point,” Tino sighed. “I’ll probably ask to have the paperwork filed. My dad came here when he was younger, he probably won’t mind.”
“I’ll join you.”
“Huh—what?!” Tino turned to stare at Berwald. “Are you—Berwald, are you serious?”
“Sure. Y’ said ‘twas lonely.”
“But—but you’re an Oxenstierna! That’s like—that’s like if a Black went to Beauxbatons, it’s unheard of!”
“So?”
“So—so don’t throw away your family’s reputation just for me! What would your parents say, an Oxenstierna ditching Durmstrang Institute for Hogwarts?!”
Berwald grunted. “I don’t care ‘bout that. M’ parents won’t m’nd too much, either. ‘Ogwarts is just as good a school.”
“...You’re serious.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Tino could have cried. Instead, he leaned forward and grabbed Berwald into a hug.
“I…you’re incredible, you know that?” he told him.
“Mm.” But Berwald didn’t push him away, and Tino rested against him, his best friend.
The stars were shining above them.
Berwald shifted, pulling something out from his coat pocket, and Tino pulled back to see a small package wrapped in brown paper, a blue ribbon on the top, resting in Berwald’s hand.
“For you,” Berwald muttered, holding the gift out. “I know it’s Christmas Eve ‘nd all, but…open it now.” His cheeks were flushed red and he stared into the distance, across the wooden bridge.
Tino took the gift and ran his finger over the perfectly-folded wrapping. There was no tape, everything somehow held itself together.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“It’s yer’ Christmas gift.”
“You’re already given me the best gift ever, by saying you’ll come to Hogwarts with me.”
“Just…just op’n it, Tino.”
“Alright, alright!” Tino laughed, and carefully pulled at the edges.The paper came away easily, and he took out the black box inside. Letting the discarded paper float down to the ground, he carefully removed the lid.
Inside the box was a small silver charm in the shape of an Iku-Turso.
Tino gently picked it up to examine it closer. To his delight, the tiny creature on the charm moved, looking around curiously and opening its mouth quite wide.
“It’s adorable!” Tino grinned as the charm tried to bite his finger. “I’ve gotta name it—oh, I know, how about Supercharged Fire-breathing Walrus?”
“You…wanna name th’ Iku-Turso?”
“Oh, fair point. I still kind of wanna give it a nickname, though,” Tino said, holding the charm up to his nose and giggling when it nipped at him. “It’s just so cute and tiny, where’d you find something like this?”
“Made it myself. Wasn’t sure ‘f you’d like it, though…”
“Have I told you you’re truly something else, Ber?” Tino laughed. “I love it, I really do. Oh! How about the name “Bullet Bomb Tomato Fudge”?”
“Tino. Jus’--No.”
.
”Merry Christmas, Berwald.”
It was a good thing Tino was light on his feet, with the speed Berwald sat up at. He laughed as Berwald squinted at him, groping around the bedside table for his glasses. Once he found them, he put them on and took a good look at the clock.
“Tino…it’s one in th’ mornin’...”
“I know! Which means it’s officially Christmas, which means Santa and the goats will be coming in about half an hour! C’mon, I wanna watch ‘em!”
Berwald blinked. “...Goats?”
“Yeah!” Tino exclaimed. “Don’t you know? Between one and two in the morning, or at least that’s how it was for me, Santa comes down the chimney with his goat-headed elves to put presents under the tree!”
“...Say that again, one mo’ time, slowly.”
“Between one to two in the morning, Santa comes down the chimney with his goat-headed elves to put presents under the tree?”
“...Never mind. Why’d ya wake me up?”
“To wait for him, of course! What else?”
Tino’s eyes were wide with excitement, and he was bouncing on his toes in anticipation. Berwald thought it best to let him down gently.
“Tino…th’ house is Unplottable. Dunno if Santa can get past th’ wards.”
Or he tried, anyway. Subtlety wasn’t his strong suit.
Tino looked unfazed, though. “But Santa’s basically magic. That shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Even Grind—him—wouldn’t ‘ave been able t’ get in ‘ere ‘f he didn’t know where it was,” Berwald pointed out. “An’ he’s one o’ th’ most powerful ones…”
Tino slowly deflated. “...You have a point. But,” he added, a hopeful tilt in his voice, “it is Santa. I’m sure he’s used to that sort of thing, with how secretive all you native wizardfolk are.”
He paused. “So…wanna wait up with me just in case?”
Tino really couldn’t be brought down, could he? Berwald wondered what Norse gods had looked down on him and decided that his introverted, painfully shy self needed to be adopted as the best friend of the most extroverted guy in their year. Probably one that hated his ancestors, he reckoned.
They would be so disappointed in him, he thought with some amusement. He could never say no to Tino, a half-blood who didn’t care for power ties but still dreamed of Santa.
He could never stand to disappoint Tino. Even if he himself didn’t believe in a jolly old man in a red suit. Or goat-headed elves.
“Alright.”
Tino grinned and dragged him down the stairs, hopping merrily over the triggers in the staircase that would send arrows at any non-Oxenstiernas trying to pass.
.
If Berwald had cast a Sleeping Charm on Tino half an hour into hiding behind the main living room’s couch, that was for him alone to know.
.
And if Tino’s disappointment at missing Santa and his elves was replaced with excitement at the intricate wall carving Berwald had wrapped in a box labeled “To Tino, from Santa”, well. That was a secret he’d take to his grave out of embarrassment.
.
“Hey guys, look what Ber made me! Meet Tommy!”
“Aww, he’s adorable!”
“His full name’s Tomato Fudge!”
“Tino, what—”
.
“Guess who Hogwarts’ newest students are!”
“How’d you guys get the paperwork to go through so fast?! That’s incredible!”
“Told you that if you were gonna transfer, we’d come with you! We Nordics gotta stick together! Where’s the firewhisky, let’s pass a bottle ‘round to celebrate!”
“So noisy…here’s a bottle, though. Emil, I brought Yoggi for you.”
“Lukas, I can take the heat! Stop treating me like a child!”
“I agree, this calls for a toast!”
“It’s my job as your big brother~!”
“Shut up.”
“Why are you against it?”
“Don’t encourage him, Berwald!”
“Yo, everyone! Glasses up! To the Nordic Five!”
“To the Nordic Five!”
“To the—wait, what?”
“A Dane, a Fin, a Swede, and two Norwegians who spend half their time in Iceland. All five Nordic countries. Five of us. Nordic Five.”
“Surprisingly, that’s the first logical thing Mathias has said in his life.”
“Really?”
“TO THE NORDIC FIVE!!! And our takeover of Hogwarts—they won’t know what hit ‘em!”
“What’ver you’re plannin’, Tino—viol’nce ain’t th’ answer.”
“C’mon, Ber–”
“No.”
“Awww…”.
.
“Oh, the poor cruppy-puppy! We have to help her!”
“Y’ sure we won’t get into trouble?”
“Of course not! Oh, we should give her a name…what about, “Special Attack Bomb Bastard”?”
“...”
“Okay, fine. Blood-covered Flower Egg!”
“We aren’t namin’ th’ dog that.”
“Aww, c’mon–”
“...Compromise.”
“Flower Egg it is! C’mon, let’s go find Hagrid!”
.
“Fourth-year transfer Bondevik, Lukas.”
“RAVENCLAW!”
“Second-year transfer Bondevik, Emil.”
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
“Sixth-year transfer Densen, Mathias.”
“GRYFFINDOR!”
“Fifth-year transfer Oxenstierna, Berwald.”
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
.