November 11th [Nikolai]

Andrei was a man of his word.

Before taking the post of headmaster, he made a promise to Marie: he wouldn't change. Sure, time, sickness, and the like could and would continue to change his appearance—he was never so vain as to dabble in cosmetic magic like he suspected his predecessor did. Indeed, in five years he would no doubt look a bit more worn, but his heart would remain. Neither Marie nor Andrei wanted to lose the person they fell in love with to work, fame, and fortune. So, it was in keeping with the person the headmaster had always been, that he now found himself outside on a brisk November afternoon.

Having eschewed his robes in favor of a more relaxed outfit it would be hard to peg Andrei as anyone of any importance. The bespectacled man wore dark jeans, a wool sweater, and a pair of low-cut brown boots that clunked dully on the dock as he walked out onto it. Stretched out before him the Black Lake’s inky waters seemed to go on forever. On the far side, he could make out the ripples that told of an oncoming gust of wind, but beyond that nothing. He was, as far as he could tell, alone.

He hoped, however, that that would soon change.

A few days prior he’d sent a letter to his son, Nikolai, asking to meet him. At first, he’d considered just going to talk to him, but decided against it to ward off the jeers that the boy would surely have to endure after such a visit. Yes, contrary to what his children surely thought, he did not go out of his way to annoy them (Well, not too often anyway). That said, one might have forgiven the father had he indulged his initial instinct. After all, today was a special day for both him and his son.

It was November eleventh; Nikolai’s birthday.

"Hey Nik, happy birthday," he glanced over at his son with a soft smile on his face. "Don't worry, we won't be gone long; I got permission from the headmaster and everything."

His smile cracked into a wry grin at his own attempt at humor.

"Now, come on," he held out his hand to the boy. "If we keep your mother waiting any longer we'll never hear the end of it."

When and if Nikolai took Andrei's hand, both father and son would soon find the picturesque landscape of the Black Lake folding in on itself like some strange kaleidoscope. For half a heartbeat the two stood in perfect blackness only to be disturbed by the rush of colors and tugging sensation familiar to anyone who had ever apparated before. Truthfully, Andrei much preferred muggle travel, but time was of the essence and he doubted that there was a train fast enough to cover the distance he needed to cover. Plus, what good was being the headmaster of Hogwarts if you couldn’t flout the anti-apparition jinx every once in a while?

When the world finally came to a stop, the two wizards were standing in a light dusting of snow outside their London home. In typical Marie fashion, the front door was already decorated with holly and a wreath. The Christmas holiday was always a big one in the Kessler household and each year the matriarch of the family put up decorations earlier and earlier or so it seemed anyway.

Sighing, Andrei muttered a few words in what sounded like Latin. Runes flared with a blue light around the doorway and then fell dormant once more. After an attempted break in a few years back, the man had taken extra precautions to keep his family safe against the dangers of the world and runic magic was the best way he knew how.

Before he could push open the door, however, it pulled inward to reveal the love of his life, Marie. The fair-haired witch swept out from the doorway and pulled both father and son into an impromptu group hug that the older wizard was certain would break his ribs.

“Oh, I’ve missed you two,” she huffed before pulling away and back into the house. “Helen just got done with the cake, you’re right on time.”

Andrei, it seemed, made timeliness a bad habit in everything he did.

Shrugging to his son, he followed his wife inside. If Nikolai did indeed follow he would have to listen to his mother rattle off a thousand questions a second as they made their way to the kitchen. Was he eating alright? Did he get enough exercise? Did he do his homework? Did he have any friends? Did he get enough sleep? Why didn't he write as much as last year? Did he wear proper safety gear for Quidditch?

The headmaster couldn’t help feeling bad for the kid, there was no way Marie would let him leave until he’d answered all her questions. On the bright side, the smell wafting through the house indicated that Helen made one of her best concoctions, pineapple upside down cake.

Apparently, culinary school was paying off.

[Please, take the reigns and feel free to guide the story whichever way you want. I can roll with whatever.]

"Well," Andrei cast a sidelong glance over to his wife. "I don't see why she couldn't attend."

"I'd love to," Marie flashed the smile that always tugged at her lips when around her family. "Oh, I'll be right back..."

And with that, the witch hurried out of the room leaving Andrei, Helen, and Nikolai alone. Andrei for his part took a seat at the kitchen table and eyed the cake with hungry eyes. He always had a weakness for anything pineapple, there was something about the sweet yet sour contrast in the fruit that tickled his taste buds in just the right way.

"Hey Nik," Helen acknowledged her brother's presence briefly, but it was clear that her attention was on the task before her. "You'd have to ask mom about what's going on."

Wielding both a wand and a whisk, the young woman had not noticed when her mother left the room. Instead, she focused on the long incantation that now flew from her lips in what sounded like French—the language of the culinary world. Beating the whisk through what looked like colorless goop, she continued to intone until a brown liquid spouted from her wand and into the goop. With a few more movements of the whisk, the goop came to resemble chocolate pudding.

"Look at that," Helen sheathed her wand and lay down her whisk as she turned to her brother. "I just learned this last week, sugarless pudding with all the taste of sugar!"

Helen had always been one for dramatics.

"The chocolate flavoring won't last cause Gamp's law," she didn't bother explaining the law. "But it will last long enough to give us all the flavor and no cal—"

"Come on you two," Marie interrupted as she returned to the room. "Nikolai has some presents to open and we have some cake to eat."

Placing a mess of well-wrapped presents on the kitchen table, Marie took a seat by her husband. Each member of the family got Nikolai at least one present. Marie knit him a dark green wool hat and bought him a book on Quidditch strategy and tactics; Helen got him a gag gift ring that would make the wearer appear invisible to themselves, but not to others and made a batch of lava cookies; Andrei got him a stack of magical creature books and three tickets to the upcoming Quidditch world cup.

All that remained was a little bit of singing, present opening, and cake eating.

[Forgive the scatterbrainedness of the post, it's the best I can do via phone, rip my internet.]

Returning his son's hug, Andrei found himself almost crushed by a hug almost as strong as his wifes. Every once in a while a father had to spoil his children and the tickets to the world cup were just that. The headmaster had pulled a few strings, sat through a couple boring coffee meetups, and spent more money than he cared to admit getting the tickets, but he had gotten them. Suffice to say he owed a particular Quidditch promoter a favor or two as well—box seats did not come cheap.

Nikolai's reaction, however, made it all worth it.

Finally pulling back from his son after what felt like an entirety, he broke into song along with Helen and Marie. The well-kept secret of the Kessler family was their musical talent and it showed in the two rounds of happy birthday that followed. As was tradition, whoever's birthday it was—Nikolai in this case—would be the one to cut the cake and distribute it in something resembling an equitable fashion. Then, over the next hour and a half or so the small family swapped tales, traded barbs, and shared a good laugh or two more often than not at Andrei's expense.

Alas, all good things eventually came to an end and this family gather was no exception.

"Well," Andrei spoke up having just finished putting the last of the dishes away. "Nik, I think it's time we get going. I'm sure you have better things to do than hanging out with us."

Good-natured sarcasm dripped from the man's words.

"Say your goodbyes," he gave Marie a peck on the cheek as he moved to leave the kitchen. "I'll be at the door when you're ready."

With each step that Andrei took towards the door he felt the weight of his waiting responsibilities more and more acutely. It was nice to spend time with the family, but it was time to get back to work. And yet, in a strange way, the man felt relieved, work gave him purpose and focused his mind. Funny how that worked, no?

Stopping by the front door, Andrei waited.

Andrei's soft well-meaning smile was all the response Nikolai would get before the headmaster clapped a firm hand on the boy's shoulder. The room lurched, spun, and faded to darkness as the all too familiar sucking feeling of apparation washed over the aging man's frame. In a matter of moments that felt much longer than it should have the two Kessler men would find themselves back at the end of the dock that they'd left from a few hours prior.

"Nik," his grip loosened and fell away from his son's shoulder. "There's one last thing I'd like to give you."

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Andrei produced a burnished disk of gold. Cradling it in his palm, he held it out for the boy. This would be his final gift for the year, a family heirloom passed down from his mother.

"My mom gave this to me and told me to give it to my son one day," he paused ever so slightly. "And I guess today is that day. I'm sure you'll figure out how it works."

The item in question was a compass whose needle seemed to spin aimlessly with neither rhyme nor reason. In truth, the compass did not seek north unless that was what its holder wished it to do. Akin to a dousing rod, the compass would point to the person, place, or thing that its holder focused on. Ringing the inside of the compass one could faintly make out the source of this magical power, nearly twenty or so rings of inhumanly small runes.

This compass was to blame for Andrei's devotion to the study of runes.