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It's summer in Eastern Europe, a state of being which always unleashes the full Slav potential of every inhabitant of these generally cold and grim lands. In the case of Viktor Krum, international quidditch superstar, he takes a break from being wonderful all over the world, to being wonderful in the United States of America specifically, where he travels around the country being wacky. You can do that when you're rich, your best mate is rich, your best mate's brother-in-law is fast, and you can teleport and or fly.
"No, Yura, we can't go to American Georgia. You're too pretty and I don't want to die just yet."
"But, Vitya. We said we'd do something ridiculous every summer."
"We are doing something ridiclous. We've taken your brother-in-law with us."
Viktor and Yuri look over their shoulders, at the backseat, where sits Pietro Maximoff, in wraparound douchebag shades, his face turned towards the window. After a moment spent staring at the woods and fields as they pass by, he shifts his attention to his friends slash family.
"Are you two gonna keep your eyes on the road, or what?"
Three Slavs in a car, three Slavs on holiday. What could possibly go wrong?
It's true, they have taken Yuri's brother-in-law with them, preventing the need to travel to Georgia. Some other, slightly less ridiculous escapade opportunity will have to be found.
Insert - Tornado Valley
Some hours later, the trio find themselves in tornado country. Well, not 'find', they deliberately travelled there.
"I can outrun a tornado." says Pietro, where he sits at a bar run by a farmer who owns a farm with a good view of the endless flat fields extending in every direction. There's nowhere to run, for muggles. Beside him sits his brother-in-law's best friend, a celebrity who should be part of the Avengers, but who claims prior time commitments every time he's asked to join.
"I'm not sure about that. Tornados are fast." answers Viktor, already deep in his cups despite it being early afternoon.
"I can move beyond lightspeed! Tornadoes are slow enough to see! Can you see me when I run?"
"I'm fighting whenever you're busy running away, so, no."
Pietro's face begins dancing with itself as he struggles not to laugh. "Don't make me beat you, Krum."
"Beat me in a game of hopscotch? Unlikely."
Meanwhile, the third member of the trio is walking through nearby corn fields, enjoying alone time. An introvert like Viktor, he has to charge his batteries by being with himself in peace or else curses will begin flying. As such, those close to him let him alone for long stretches of time.
Walking through a corn field can be scary for muggles, who often set horror films in or around them, but pureblood wizards need fear no such things as possessed children and possessed farmers or whatever else lurks between the green stems in the deranged imaginations of the average man. Instead, a pureblood wizard has corn vampires to fear. But thankfully Yuri is a champion duellist with longtime experience in wrangling the problematic (see: Viktor Krum), and the instant a corn vampire leaps out at him he sets it ablaze. Tragically, this leads to the entire field burning down and the trio have to hurridley move on to the next farm.
The next victim is an old woman who is absolutely delighted to have three handsome European slash Asian men standing on her doorstep. She invites them in for food and shelter, and asks them questions solely so that she may listen to the funny accents two of them possess.
Outside her old windows, the wide sky darkens, like swirls of grey soft serve ice cream are being layered on up there. A male sillohette stands by a rectangle of light, staring out at the red glow created by a distant fire. Viktor, slowly sinking into a chintz armchair with an old cat on his lap and a porcelain cup of tea in his hand, glances at the sinister figure and switches from English to Russian.
"Don't you dare go out there and wander through the corn, Yurets. I prefer this old woman to her neighbour. She makes better American pie."
The woman so described, shifts her attention to him. "Oooh, what a beautiful language! What did he say?" she asks Pietro.
The latter jets smoke from his nostrils where he lies fully stretched out along a soft leather couch. "He's calling Yuri gay."
But while you may not wander out into the corn, the corn may still wander into you. Three young men are making a racket in their room when the first inkling of horror reaches them.
"I need water."
"Here."
"No, not that! Vodka!"
'Vodka means water."
"I know, идиот! That's why I said I need vodka!"
Such and likewise screeching, alongside sudden bangs and machine gun bursts of laughter infiltrate through the walls of the house and lull the old lady to sleep with a smile on her face, the same way her mother's lullabies once did. She's asleep when a sudden silence falls into the house with an inaudible but still intensely felt thump.
In the boy's room, which used to belong to the old lady's sons, the trio of foreigners have petrified mid bout of wrestling, their eyes following the roving attention of their ears, which have detected…something. The most minute thump. The most minute click.
"…Did you hear that?" whispers Pietro, from the headlock Viktor has him in.
"No, shut up." answers Yuri, his wand already out.
A rustling circles the house. As the only muggle of the trio, Pietro plucks a vodka bottle from a nightstand to be his weapon while he and the rest wait for something to leap through the closed door of the room, or else burst through the open window behind the group. Releasing an arm from his lock, Viktor reaches over and slams the aperture shut. All three men yelp and jump and curses go zigzagging around the room, rapidly bouncing back and forth between the walls.
"Aliens…corn aliens." breathes Pietro, his head busy swelling to ten times it's regular size.
Some minutes later, the miniature gang are zooming around the house in tin foil hats, searching for whatever monster is shambling around the place. Only muggles believe in aliens, but, as Voldemort feared, the pair of purebloods have been influenced by the muggle amongst them, giving in to his demands that they protect their precious brains, and bodies ultimately, with shiny headgear. Since they can locate no horrible grey beasts inside the building, they pile outside, into the star spangled night. The old lady sleeps on.
"Where are you?! Where are you?! Come and get some!" yells Viktor, before recalling that there's a token evil teammate on his side of this impromptu war of wizards vs aliens. "Yura! Don't burn down the fields!"
A voice travels back through the night air, serene and sly. "I make no promises, Vitya."
Time is running out, and Pietro, standing on the edge of the waving fronds of corn with a very stylish piece of tin foil on his handsome head, senses an opportunity to show off. While dramatically looking down at the one litre, bulletproof bottle of vodka in his hands, he develops an idea.
"Distract them! I have a plan! Aliens hate water!" He yells at his equally tipsy friends, both of whom are doing nothing but reeling along the shore of the green sea of corn, or else drowning within it. Using his superspeed, Pietro runs back into the house, fills his arms with more bottles, and runs back out, where he goes speeding through the corn, smashing the space out of the aliens lurking there. In the process he hands a bottle to his brother-in-law at high speed, to distract and prevent him from setting the place on fire.
"Thanks." says Yuri, floating his wand in mid air so he can unscrew the lid of the bottle and dump vodka down his throat.
Less than a minute later, the aliens have been resoundly defeated.
"What? you didn't see that coming?" Laughs Pietro, while standing above the sizzling body of a grey being, a broken bottle of 'water' in hand.
The next morning, the old lady farmer is very sad to see the boys go, but they promise to keep in touch and visit as often as they can. She and her oldass cat watch them climb into their rented car with tears in their eyes.
A day later the newspaper begins serving her up strange and amusing news.