England was angry.

No not angry. He was completely and utterly pissed. And the one who made him this way was going to listen to him damnit!

Even if that meant going to him.

And that was how he ended up in front of Voldemorts/Tom Riddle/The Dark Lord/Snake Face's supposedly 'secret' base.

"Voldemort you smarmy bastard! Get out here right now!" yelled the country who was officially at his last straw.

A moment later a cloud of smoke started to form in front of him. As the smoke cleared England was able to make out the form of a very ugly dark lord.

Very, very ugly.

England couldn't help but wonder what ever happened to his nose.

"Who are you and how did you learn of my location?!" screeched Voldemort.

"You are on my bloody soil you arsehole, of course I know where you are!" snapped the enraged nation.

"You dare call me such a term! This is the day you shall breathe your last!" sneered Voldemort, his malice starting to show. "Pity I don't know what your name is. I like to keep track of all of the people I have killed you see?"

Voldemort raised his wand to cast a spell when England interrupted him.

"England."

"What? Why are you prattling about a country now as you are about to die? Are you daft?" said Voldemort lowering his wand. He knew that after his next spell he would not be getting any answers from the man, yet his interest had been peaked. So the man in front of him would live until he, the Dark Lord Voldemort, made sense of what the man with caterpillar eyebrows was saying.

"No, I was merely answering your question." said the nation, inwardly laughing at the look on Voldemorts face. It was quite comical.

"What question?! I asked no question where England could ever be the answer!"

"Yes, you did. You asked who I was and I answered you. I'm England."

"You are England?!"

"Well yes. And I need to have a very serious discussion with you."

"I care not for your silly delusions; this has gone on long enough! Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort shouted.

England could only watch as the spell grew closer and closer to him, not even trying to avoid the oncoming green light of death.

The spell collided with the nation and Voldemort waited with baited breath for this annoying man's body to fall to the ground.

England however seemed no worse for the wear even five seconds after the spell hit him.

Ten seconds after the spell hit, and there was complete silence.

Fifteen seconds after the spell hit, and neither had made a move.

Seventeen point five three six seconds after the spell hit Voldemort lost it.

"Avada Kedavra!" He yelled again. This time the waving of his wand was wild and beyond control. His eyes gleamed with untold hatred. How DARE that man survive his killing curse! No one survived his killing curse. Except for Potter…. But there was no time to dwell on that now!

Once again England was left standing.

"Are we done now?" The nation asked. "I have something I really need to talk to you about and I do not have time to waste."

"Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra!"

Now it was England's turn to snap.

"Listen here you bloody wanker! I am your country and you will do as I say! Now stop casting those infernal spells at me and listen for once in your ruddy life! You do not want me to have to go back home and retrieve my sword from my buccaneer days! Because if I have to, and I will if I need to, not even your Death Eaters will be able to recognize you. Are. We. Clear?" The nation yelled. He had never been so infuriated. Well at least not in the past hundred years or so.

For once in his life Voldemort was actually scared.

Not that he would ever admit it out loud of course.

"Fine then." Said Voldemort, trying to appear cool, calm, and collected "tell me what you wish."

"Stop killing muggles."

…

…

"What?!" asked Voldemort shocked.

"Stop. Killing. Muggles. Do I have to spell it out for you? As England all this death and destruction is giving me a bad name amongst the other nations you know. I swear if I have to hear France call me the Black Sheep of Europe one more time I will kill the arse! Not to mention America yelling about being the Hero and coming to save me! And I promise you if Italy offers me one more plate of pasta to make me feel better I am coming back here and making you eat it!"

"I don't believe you are England so all of what you just said is deemed invalid." Voldemort said, trying not to buy into this mans supposed delusions.

"I survived the killing curse… multiple times!"

"That does not prove anything, except that you are some weird Magical creature."

"Weird Magical creature?! I am no such thing!" England fumed "Fine then think of it this way: you need muggles. Now, now, don't interrupt. Think of what muggles have done over the years. They have invented cars, radios, airplanes, telephones, and all sorts of other wonderful things. As a whole they are not a bad bunch of people though there are admittedly horrible human beings out there, which is where you come in."

"Me?! Interact with muggles?! You are Barmy!"

"I said not to interrupt! Do you always act so daft?! Anyway your job would be to, well how do I put this, take care of the bad apples if you will. All of the criminals convicted of horrible crimes will be sent directly to you and your Death Eaters. That way you can keep killing muggles and most of the entire human race doesn't get wiped out."

"So you want me to play policeman for your pathetic world?"

"You git! It is not just my world it is our world! And no you wouldn't be like a policeman, more like an Undertaker if you will."

"And you expect me to just agree to this?! I have plans of world domination that I do not intend on giving up!" raved Voldemort. He was not a happy camper, no he was not.

"What if I told you that you would fail anyway?"

"Impossible." Exclaimed Voldemort, scandalized.

"No not impossible, it will happen if you go through with your plan. See for yourself." And out of nowhere England produced a stack of 7 books. How he managed that Voldemort will never know.

"What are those?" demanded Voldemort.

"Seven books following the life of your nemesis Harry Potter that appeared when one of my spells didn't work exactly as I planned. I will leave them here for you to read and in one week I will come back to see if you will accept my offer. If not I am afraid I will have to wipe your memory and you will have to die. Well at least eventually."

With that England seemed to vanish and all that were left in his place were the seven books in a neat stack.

Voldemort pondered for a moment on what to do before giving in and going to retrieve the books. Glancing at the cover on the top book his nonexistent eyebrows raised. 'Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone'?

Well that sounded interesting.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

True to his word England came back one week later to see if Voldemort would accept his offer.

England never even had to call out before the ugly snake looking dark lord was in front of him.

"Have you come to a decision?"

"I will stop killing muggles and do as you suggested, but only if you do one thing for me."

"What is it? I will not do anything against my morals." He replied skeptically.

"I want a castle."

"Really? That's it."

"Yes, that's really all I want. All I have ever wanted really."

And that was the day England traded a Castle for the wellbeing of all humanity.