"Yes... " said Ron softly, "It's the only way... I've got to be taken."
"NO!" Harry and Hermione shouted.
"That's chess!" snapped Ron. "You've got to make some sacrifices! I take one step forward and she'll take me - that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!"
"But-"
"Do you want to stop Snape or not?"
"Ron-"
"Look, if you don't hurry up, he'll already have the Stone!"
There was no alternative.
"Ready?" Ron called, his face pale but determined. "Here I go - now, don't hang around once you've won."
He stepped forward, and the white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard across the head with her stone arm, and he crashed to the floor - Hermione screamed but stayed on her square - the white queen dragged Ron to one side. He looked as if he'd been knocked out.
Shaking, Harry moved three spaces to the left.
The white king took off his crown and threw it at Harry's feet. They had won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. With one last desperate look back at Ron, Harry and Hermione charged through the door and up the next passageway.
"What if he's - ?"
"It's time to sleep, Arthur." said a kind-faced lady, smiling slightly at the affronted expression on her youngest son's face.
"B-but Mommy! What if Ron is hurt? Or dead? And what if there's a hidden trap in the next room? What if Harry and Hermione can't make it through? Will Voldemort win?" So busy he was with being lost in fantasies that he didn't notice his mother flinching at the dreaded name, even after all these years. The fear of the name had been so deeply ingrained in her when she was young, she still could not bring herself to call that monster by his name.
She offered the young boy a stern look. "Arthur, we've read all the books at least three times already. You know what is going to happen."
The young boy pouted, crossing his arms in childish defiance. "I want to hear the end of the story again. Please, Mommy?"
His mother sighed heavily. She was not surprised; they had this argument every single time her son insisted on reading one of the books of Harry Potter's admittedly breathtaking and exhilarating biography. Even if she suspected half the things they wrote here was utter bollocks.
"Arthur, if you don't sleep, how will you grow up to be a strong wizard like Harry Potter?" She ruffled his hair, making the child scoff, his thick eyebrows, a distinguishing mark of the Kirkland family, furrowing.
"Sleeping won't make me a great wizard. I can only be a great wizard if I go to Hogwarts and actually learn how to do magic! Real magic, not changing the color of Scott's ugly cat." Or making it rain rose petals, although Arthur quite liked it when it happened. It was a beautiful sight to behold. Whenever he had his out of the blue magical mishaps, his mother and the house elves were quick to praise him, saying that they were signs of great magical power. Usually he cherished those comments, basking in the attention that he was so rarely given, being the youngest of four brothers, all of whom were already going to Hogwarts. Patrick, his oldest brother, was ten years his senior and was in his seventh year at Hogwarts. Scott, the second oldest, was in his fourth, and Daren, the second youngest, began school this year, leaving Arthur the only child still only dreaming of going to school.
His mother stifled a giggle. While her second eldest always got angry at his little brother for 'abusing' his cat, she found the sudden color changes of the little beast amusing. Thank Merlin the boy took his cat with him to school; she would have surely transfigured the thing into a paperweight or anything that lacked claws and a mouth. Smiling fondly at her baby, for no matter how old he was, he would always be her baby boy, she leaned in to kiss him on the forehead.
"Don't be so quick to grow up. Four years will pass by quickly, don't you worry." She gently pushed him down and tucked him in. "In fact, they will pass by even faster if you sleep a lot."
Arthur shifted slightly to make himself comfortable. "Promise?" he asked in a small voice.
Standing up, his mother waved her wand and the the room went dark, the flames of the candles no longer illuminating it. "I promise. Now sleep, my little prince. Sweet dreams."
Four years and some months later, the Kirkland family was enjoying a peaceful breakfast, the chirping of the birds only disturbed by the occasional brief conversation between Mr. Kirkland and his eldest son, usually concerning work.
"Sir?" One of the house elves entered the dining room, bowing respectfully in front of the family. Mr. Kirkland raised an eyebrow at the elf, wordlessly urging it to provide him with a good enough reason as to why it would disturb his masters while they were eating. The elf, its name was Butter-something, if Arthur recalled correctly, shook noticeably under the intense gaze of its intimidating master and Arthur couldn't blame it. His father was a truly imposing man.
"M-my apologies for interrupting yo-your breakfast, Ma-master, Mi-mistress, yo-young Masters, but a-an o-owl just came and I-I thought Young Master Arthur wo-would be in-interested in th-this letter!" It bowed even deeper, shaking like a leaf for having done something its Master did not command it to.
Arthur just raised an eyebrow at the servant, the small gesture being the only proof of his surprise. Who would write him a letter? He did not have many friends, unless you counted the fairies in the garden or the few unicorns that lived in the large forest belonging to the Kirkland manor. Neither of those were known for writing letters, Arthur mused wryly.
Scott had a much more noticeable way of showing off his bemusement. "The pipsqueak here got a letter? From whom, one of the gnomes in the garden?"
Their mother threw him a glare and Scott immediately quieted. Patrick just continued sipping his morning tea calmly, already knowing whom that letter was from.
"Alright, give it to me." A 'please' almost slipped out, but he bit it back at the last moment. The last time Arthur tried being friendly to the elves, his father gave him a long and thorough lecture on why one did not show their servants weakness or kindness. While talking, never once did he stop gazing at his son with disappointment. Arthur had no desire to go through such a lecture again.
The elf shuffled over, keeping its eyes trained on the ground respectfully. The youngest son took the letter without a word of thanks and checked the sender.
And promptly knocked over his glass of orange juice, spilling its contents on Daren, making said brother jump up and curse loudly.
"What the bloody feck are you doing, you git?"
And then Daren was hit by a think beam of orange light and instead of curses, it was foam pouring out of his mouth. Their mother put her wand down nonchalantly, sending the brunette an unimpressed look.
"No cursing in my house, young man."
Scott snickered loudly, Patrick sent his foamy brother a smirk, and their father stared at Arthur, uninterested by the actions of his family.
Arthur, himself, was in some sort of trance. But it was undeniable...the sender was definitely Hogwarts. Shakily, Arthur opened the letter and, ignoring the lump forming in his throat, started reading the contents out loud.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall
(Order of Merlin, First class, Grand Sorc., International Confed. of Witches)
Dear Mr. Kirkland,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Neville Longbottom
Deputy Headmaster
Arthur lowered the piece of parchment, still stunned into silence. The whole dining room followed his example, waiting for his reaction.
That is, until his mother squealed unexpectedly, wrapping her bewildered son up in a tight embrace.
"I'm so proud of you, dear!"
Arthur patted his mother's back, his face flushing from being suddenly hugged in front of his brothers and father. Embarrassment, however, was soon replaced with delight. Finally. He could finally go to Hogwarts! A large, happy smile spread on his face. He was really going to Hogwarts!
On that day, many other youths from all over Britain received their letters as well. However, a handful of those owls carrying those precious letters had to leave much earlier than their comrades, for they had to take their cargo much farther away. On the day Arthur Kirkland received his invitation letter, other children, even from oceans away, opened up the very same, although a bit thicker letter with awe. Their letters contained a few extra sentences.
You are cordially invited to join the Hogwarts student exchange program, in which you will have the chance to spend your required seven years of school attendance at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
A/N: Hello everyone! This is my new HP!AU Hetalia story. I decided I needed something to give my muse back so I can work on my other story and this is the fruit of it! I hope you enjoyed! Next Chapter will be about the shopping trip to Diagon Alley.