Hello! I know I should be working on my PJO/APH crossover, but I am fresh out of ideas for it right now, so I'm kinda taking a break from it until I get good ideas. And plus, we all need more Harry Potter/Hetalia crossovers, even if there are already like 500 of 'em. Anyways, hope you enjoy it and don't forget to review~!

DISCLAIMER DOG: RUSSIA'S MAGIC PIPE OWNS NOTHIN BUT THE PLOT. HARRY POTTER BELONGS TO J. K. ROWLING AND HETALIA BELONGS TO HIDEKAZ HIMARUYA.


England POV

And England's life just got that much more miserable.

First there was that Grindelwald fellow that England had to bear with, then Voldemort came in, should've died, but nooooooo, he had to use Harry Potter's blood to come back fully alive. To make it worse, England couldn't kill him, due to Tom Marvolo Riddle being his own citizen. Countries couldn't kill their own people, that would be like killing a bit of their self. They could harm them as much as possible, but not kill them. England hated that rule. He couldn't even destroy a Horcrux if he wanted to. Who knew being a country personification had so many standards?

And of course, like every other Hitler-wannabe, Voldemort liked to go on occasional killing sprees, making England throw up blood and maybe one or two vital regions every now and then. Magical killings hurt 10x worse than normal ones, and that fact REALLY WASN'T HELPING!

Second, his Ministry was doing nothing to help. Rather, they were making it worse. Fudge was being a stubborn a**hole and not ready to admit that Voldemort was really back, and England couldn't go and give him a good smack upside the head, since he hadn't been in contact with the Ministry for about maybe a century, give or take a few years and it would be very suspicious if he just showed up and demanded to smack the Minister of Magic. Bloody fools.

So while England was silently cursing (not the magical kind) his Ministry, Voldemort, and the bloody Frog, he was caught off guard when a large masked owl he recognized as Dumbledore's swooped into his room, and landed rudely on his head, its talons digging into his hair and eyebrows.

"Wha-GET OFF, YOU BLOODY OWL-" England sputtered, grabbing at the owl.

Most animals/magical creatures recognized their country immediately, and paid utmost respect. England didn't know what was wrong with Dumbledore's, but this owl seemed to go out of his way to torture England. He would never forget that one night when England stumbled home, drunk, and woke up the next morning with a huge headache. He had looked up to see an owl tail above his face, then splat. Bird sh*te on his face right when he woke up with a hangover. Later he also saw that his entire Dr. Who DVD stash had been burned into ashes. How an owl managed that, he would never know...

"Alright, what're you going to do now, you blasted bird?" England snarled. The owl simply hooted and lifted its foot with the letter to England. He wasn't sure if he was imagining things, but did it look slightly disappointed?

England ripped off the letter quickly and backed away, still wary. Fortunately, the owl really did do nothing, just glared and flew off.

"Bloody bird..." he muttered, opening the letter.

Its contents were something about Dumbledore asking him to be a professor at Hogwarts or something, and England was about to toss the thing in the fire, and continue ranting about his crappy situation, and how Harry Potter could die any moment- wait.

England thought for a moment. Harry Potter is the only one who can defeat Voldemort, and if he dies, then we're all screwed. But if I teach there, I will get to watch him and make sure that he survives. After all, I'm near-immortal and have a very high tolerance of all spells and potions. What could happen?

England looked at the letter more carefully this time.

Dear Arthur,

Hello old friend! You see, I have a recent opening in my staff in Hogwarts, for the 'History of Magic' subject. I know that you are well-educated, and would like to request that you take the spot, if it isn't too much of a bother for your current Muggle job. Owl me if you would like to take the spot, and do try a lemon drop sometime.

Your dear friend,

Albus

England picked up a pen (not a quill, pens were much easier to use) and started to write Dumbledore back.

~Awesome (but not as awesome as Prussia) Time Skippie~

"Hello, Arthur. Glad to see you accepted my offer. Lemon drop?"

"Ah, no thank you."

"Shame," Dumbledore commented, popping the sweet into his own mouth.

"I must say, Arthur, you look the exact same as the first time we met, which was nearly fifteen years ago. Even I have aged," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling curiously. He didn't know that England was a nation, but England was pretty sure that he would figure it out sooner or later. However, England didn't like telling his people. Them finding out by themselves was much more interesting.

"I have the nature to look younger than I appear to be, Albus," England replied. Well, that was true, right? He was hundreds of years old, and only looked 23.

Dumbledore's eyes did the twinkle thing again.

"Very well. Now, I know that you qualify as a professor, so there's no need to interrogate you more, Arthur. I will see you on September 1 at the welcoming feast!" Dumbledore concluded, eating another lemon drop.

"Thank you for the offer, Albus," England, waving a farewell and Disapparated back to his mansion in his place.

England walked to his basement, where all his wizarding supplies were. His wand, (9 inches, pine, Chimera scale fragment core, and very rigid (1)), his (slightly dusty) green robes, a very old broomstick that fell apart the moment England touched it, a safe full of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts, some Dark Magick and Old Magick spellbooks, and other various things. England gathered up all his necessary items, and stuffed them into his trunk (that had appeared out of nowhere, and had the UK flag on the front).

Now for the problem with the monthly world meetings...

England couldn't exactly just leave for a day each month just to go to a useless meeting where nothing got done, so he had to ask one of his siblings to represent him. But which one...?

Northern Ireland was too anti-social.

Scotland would bring Nessie.

Wales would probably manage to declare World War III.

Ireland had her own country to take care of.

No way in hell was Sealand going.

If Falkland Islands went, Argentina would probably start another war to claim him. (2)

Seychelles also had her own country.

Hong Kong would blow up everything (and China wouldn't let him go anyways).

Australia had his country too.

And same with New Zealand.

Well, he could probably spend all afternoon coming up with reasons why his siblings couldn't go to meetings. But since he was technically going to be on Scotland's land at Hogwarts, he figured he should ask him. England took out his iPhone 6, and dialed Scotland's number.

"Hey, Scot, can you do me a favor..."

And after a very long, agonizing, 2 hours of shouting (and cursing, not the magical kind), England had finally managed to convince Scotland to take his place.

Of course, that included giving Scot 10 barrels of Scotch, and all the paperwork being left to England.

He hoped that was worth it.

ONE WEEK LATER

(SpongeBob Style)

Harry POV

"Who's that?" Ron asked while a first year with a name Harry couldn't pronounce was Sorted into Gryffindor.

"That's Euan Abercrombie, Ronald. Weren't you paying any attention to the Sorting?" Hermione replied.

Ron shook his head, "Not the midget, 'Mione. That bloke at the High Table with those Velcro-things on his face. Is he a new professor?" He then pointed at a man with messy blonde hair that could compete with Harry's, forest green eyes, green robes (lotta green there), and perhaps his most defining features- a pair of inhumanly thick eyebrows on his face.

"Um, I think those are his eyebrows, mate," Harry said, squinting. Ron's mouth fell open.

"Blimey, no way! It isn't possible! Eyebrows aren't that big! D'you reckon he got hexed?" Ron mused.

"Ron! That's awfully rude! Although he does look quite young to be teaching. I wonder if he's capable enough..." Hermione trailed off with a thoughtful look on her face.

"And she's the one to talk..." Ron muttered, probably thinking of all the times Hermione had lectured them on subjects until they could answer any question she asked within 0.5 seconds. Harry never liked those lectures and immediately forgot everything afterwards.

Food suddenly appeared on the 'Golden Trio's' plates, (Snape had come up with the title to label them as attention-seeking brats) making them jump.

Harry looked at Ron, who was already digging into some roasted potatoes and sweatdropped.

"Of course you're already eating..."

Hermione swatted Ron.

"Hey!"

"Don't eat like a pig, Ronald!"

~Invisible (but not as invisible as Canada) Time Skip~

"Now that we have all been fed and watered (like pigs), let me introduce some new staff members this year. Professor Grubby-Plank will take over Care of Magical Creatures, (while Hagrid's gone chasing giants)." Dumbledore paused for effect as Professor Grubby-Plank waved a hello.

"Professor Umbridge will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts." A lady dressed all in pink who looked like a toad stood and waved.

"I hope we'll all be great friends!" She said in a squeaky girly voice that made Harry want to throw up.

"And Professor Kirkland will be taking over History of Magic," Dumbledore finished as Eyebrows stood and waved. A round of applause came at this.

"Old Binns has been replaced, Harry! It's a dream come true!" Ron exclaimed.

"Hem, hem."

"Ron, that's rude! Professor Binns was a fantastic teacher!" Hermione protested.

"Well you're the only one who can actually stay awake during his lessons," Harry pointed out.

"Let's just hope he isn't as boring as Binn's is..." Ron said.

"Hem, hem."

"Binns was a great professor!"

"Come on 'Mione, we all know-"

"HEM, HEM!"

Everyone turned towards the High Table.

"Hey wait a minute, that lady was at my trial!" Harry whispered.

Hermione and Ron gave him a look that said, 'You couldn't think of this at a better time?'

"Pay attention, children. I expect full attention on my speech," Umbridge squeaked in her girly voice.

"Now, as a Ministry Official, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah expectations blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Ministry blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Harry's a fat liar blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Dumbledore's a liar too blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah from now on blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Minister of Magic says we will have to blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah changes blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Muggles, mudbloods, and half-breeds are inferior to purebloods blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah pink looks great on me blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Kirkland here is hot- I DIDN'T MEAN THAT blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. And that concludes my speech," she finished. Harry blinked. He hadn't caught any of that. At all.

"Welp," Ron started.

"That was a load of waffle," Harry finished. Hermione stared at them.

"Your ability to understand speeches is even lower than I thought," she said, sounding impressed. "I'll tell you what that load of waffle meant. It means that the Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts."

(and all that stuff)

England POV

He just couldn't escape the Ministry, could he?

And even worse...

Umbridge, that...toad, that girly toad...

Had...

A...

F***ing crush...

On him.

THE WORLD WAS ENDING!

He even had proof! Umbridge-

"Hello, your name is Arthur Kirkland, right? Well, I was thinking I could visit your office sometime," Umbridge suggested, her toady face turning a delicate shade of pink.

God, she was like a Fem!Frog! Wait there's already one...2p!Fem!Frog already existed too...point was, Umbridge was TOO MUCH LIKE FRANCE IT WAS DRIVING HIM F***ING CRAZY! England saw Minerva give him a pitying look, and Dumbledore looked amused. That old cot...

His people naturally felt an attachment to their nation, but some were more attached than others. And of course, Umbridge had to be one of those people. Fate really did hate England. Then again, England hated fate.

He saw Umbridge get a tad closer.

WHY ME?!


(1)- I did a whole lot of research on this:

Pine- The straight-grained pine wand always chooses an independent, individual master who may be perceived as a loner, intriguing and perhaps mysterious. Pine wands enjoy being used creatively, and unlike some others, will adapt unprotestingly to new methods and spells. Many wandmakers insist that pine wands are able to detect, and perform best for, owners who are destined for long lives, and I can confirm this in as much as I have never personally known the master of a pine wand to die young. The pine wand is one of those that is most sensitive to non-verbal magic.

Chimera scale fragment- Although chimera scales are magically powerful, they are extremely rare in modern wandcraft. This is not out of any concern for safety, as they are generally considered no more stubborn than hippogriff feathers, and are more stable than Erumpent hide. The fact of the matter is that there are more recorded basilisk slayings in the past fifty years than there are chimera slayings in all of recorded history. This one slaying occurred in Greece over two millenia ago, so what scales were harvested at that time have been degraded, broken, and dispersed.
Today, they are only found as parts of heirloom cores, and even then, all such cores are a more common core (often dragon heartstring) with a tiny fragment of scale embedded. Chimera wands are most common in Greece and the Balkans, although as they were circulated through the Mediterranean and former Roman Empire they are found throughout Europe. These wands are prized for their raw power, although they are difficult to control.

Rigid- hardest to learn and cast, most powerful

9 inches- Length is mostly a matter of preference, although you will rarely see a 7-inch wand bond to someone who will grow to a large stature. The length of a wand does often follow with how the wizard or witch will grow.

I copied and pasted these italicized paragraphs above from online at a site called 'Mischief Managed' and I didn't write this info the people at the site did not me.

(2)- Not an actual character in Hetalia, but we learned about in social studies, and Falkland Islands even has its own Twitter account, and they call Argentina 'big bully Argentina'. And I'm over here thinking,'Hetalia...Hetalia everywhere...'. So I couldn't put the idea down. He might show up later.

Lol, poor Iggy! Of all the people to get stuck with...

Anyways, I'll hopefully update faster on this fic than other my PJO/APH fic, but if I don't, PLEASE DON'T KILL ME! I'M INNOCENT! I HAVE RELATIVES IN BROOKLYN- and yeah, don't slaughter me. Ok? And don't forget to review!

~Russia's Magic Pipe ^J^