Arthur felt numb.

There was a shatter, and he realized that his teacup had slipped right from his grasp, breaking into a million shards onto the floor. That didn't matter though. His hands trembled, and a small pained whimper escaped his throat.

Albus Dumbledore was dead.

Don't ask how he knew; it was just instinctual. He got the feeling that all nations did, when someone very important in their country died. It was worse though, because not only was Albus important, but he was Arthur's friend.

Albus was probably the only human who Arthur trusted one hundred percent. Albus was old, wise, and intelligent. He was one of the few humans who actually knew just what Arthur was. Most importantly, he understood Arthur. He listened.

The old Headmaster made Arthur feel safe. So long as Albus was around, Voldemort wouldn't be able to get away with much. After all, Dumbledore was the one wizard whom Tom Riddle actually feared.

Now what would happen? Voldemort would go on a full rampage. What would happen to his precious wizarding world? Arthur certainly didn't trust his ministry, not after Fudge going after Dumbledore and the Boy Who Lived in the daily prophet so much.

The Boy Who Lived. Harry Potter, the one who was supposedly destined to defeat Voldemort. Arthur didn't know if he wanted to believe that. How could he trust just a boy to fix everything? Maybe with Albus helping it would have been possible, but what now? Albus was gone. Harry was alone. Arthur was alone.

The British nation felt himself shuttering. He didn't want a full scale war. Muggle war, Wizard war, any war was bad. Ever since the first world war, wars didn't excite him anymore. They scared him. Worst of all, with a Wizarding war not many nations would be able to understand, or to help. Few countries really got in touch with their magical world sides.

Arthur suddenly wanted his brothers. No, he wanted one brother. Allister, Scotland, probably knew what was going on as well. After all, Hogwarts was in Scotland. He wanted his big brother. He wanted Allister right now! Great, his emotions were taking over. There was no stopping it though, as tears began streaming down his face as he silently screamed for his brother.

He fell of his chair and onto the hard wooden floor. Unable to even have to will to stand back up, Arthur only curled up into a ball and wept.

This was how Alfred found him several hours later. The American nation hadn't visited his dear British friend in quite awhile, and was going to treat Arthur to a really nice dinner somewhere. Upon discovering Arthur in his current condition however, caused Alfred great alarm. He rushed forward and gathered the other into his arms.

"What's wrong Artie? Tell me what's wrong." Alfred demanded gently.

"I want my big brother," Arthur choked out, grasping onto Alfred's sleeve tightly. "P-please Alfred. Get me my big brother."

"What are you talking about, do you mean Scotland?" Alfred asked in disbelief. "But dude, you guys never get along. What's wrong Arthur? You can tell me. Let the hero help."

"I'm scared Alfred," Arthur told him desperately. "I need Allister. I don't want a war. I want Albus."

"Huh? Who's Albus?" Alfred asked, thinking the name to be vaguely familiar. Arthur had mentioned that name before.

"Please Alfred!" Arthur pleaded, breaking into tears again.

"Okay, calm down Artie. I'll go call Allister, alright?" Alfred promised him. "Now just stay still alright."

With those words, Alfred then lifted Arthur into his arms, settling him down onto a couch and tucking a work afghan blanket around him. Next, Alfred went into the kitchen which was where Arthur's house phone was located. He picked up the phone and proceeded to dial Allister's mobile phone number. After three rings, the Scotland picked up.

"Dude it's me, Alfred! Look, Iggy nee-"

"Shush up boyo, I'm already on my way." Allister interrupted him. "I'll be there in five."

Alfred sighed in relief, hanging up the phone. He then decided that he should probably clean up the broken glass and spilled tea in the living room. Got got to work, and was thankful to discover that Arthur had calmed down at least a little. He told Arthur that Allister was almost there, and that seemed to have made the other sigh with relief.

Just barely after Alfred had managed to clean up the mess, the door banged open.

"Where is 'e?" Allister asked, but didn't have to be answered, for he saw Arthur almost instantly.

"He's gone Allister! I don't know what to do!" Arthur cried, and Scotland crushed him into a hug.

"It's alright wee one. We'll get through this. All hope isn't completely lost yet."

Just like that, Arthur began to feel better.

But he was still scared.

And he still wanted Albus back.

He still felt alone.

a/n:

My night sucks since I was ditched, so I wrote this depressing one-shot.

Review if you want to.

Happy New Year.