A/N: Look! A new story! Please, if you're waiting for my other stories to be updated, don't hate me! I've just been having major issues with them. They will be updated! As for this story, it is made up of a collection of one-shots that follow Canada's stay at Hogwarts. Eventually, a plot will be introduced. It just might take a while...

"Just who, might I ask, are you?" Snape questioned. The wording was polite but even the first years could hear the threatening tone in his voice; the older students could see the tip of his wand sticking out from under his sleeve, ready to cast a hex at the slightest indication of a threat.

The blond boy must have noticed it too, because his hands were suddenly held out in front of him in the universal sign for 'peace'. For a moment, barely there, barely noticable, there was a flash of something like hurt in his eyes. Just as quickly as it came though, it was gone. In fact, there was even a faint glimmer in his blue eyes. "I guess it has been a while, Severus, hasn't it?"

Not even a bit of recognition showed on the Potions Masters face, eyes still narrowed into coal black slits. The other members of the staff, Dumbledore included, didn't seem to recognize him either. Which was to be expected, really, when even his own flesh and blood couldn't remember him. "I'm Mathew Williams. Of Canada."

Still, their looks remained almost blank.

"Well, I guess it doesn't matter. I'm not here for my business anyways." Not like being there for himself would warrant a different response. Even in his own country, Mathew's presence rarely got more than a curious look. Maybe a nod if he was especially noticable that day. "I'm here on behalf of my father."

Standing up, sky blue robes billowing around him as he did, Dumbledore waved a hand in Snape's direction. "He means no harm, Severus." Spectacled eyes turned to the boy in front of him, struggling to figure out where he knew him from, where they'd met before. Somewhere important, the old wizard was sure, but the reason why it was so important seemed to be lurking just out of his reach. "Tell me, Mr. Williams, who is your father?"

Mr. Williams? That was a first. He might have been centuries old nation but he didn't think that anyone had ever called him that. Not even back when he was noticed by the people who ran his country. It brought a smile, soft and gentle, to his face. "Arthur Kirkland, sirs, of London."

And it all came back to the old school master, a look of almost-shock crossing his face. Blue eyes widened, the customary twinkle in them replaced by nothing short of regret. "Arthur? Than that means you must be Ame-" Dumbledore cut himself off, face scrunching up in confusion. That wasn't right. He was positive that America went by the name of Alfred. Not only that, but the youngster was absolutely loathe to call Arthur his 'father'.

The smile on Mathew's face faded. "As I already said, Dumbledore, I'm from Canada. Not America." Was it that hard? Really? He'd spent almost over fourteen years at Hogwarts, two sememsters there because Arthur had forgotten that he'd already been once, and still they couldn't remember him?

A silence reighned through the hall for a moment before the white-haired wizard let out a quiet 'oh'. No doubt he had just realized who he was talking too. Dumbledore gave him an apologetic smile and Mathew smiled back; a perfect smile that just beamed 'you're forgiven', even if it still left an ache in his chest like no other.

"What is it you're doing here, lad? Your father hasn't landed himself in trouble again has he?" The tension suddenly gone, Dumbledore let himself settle back down into his chair. After a few seconds the rest of the teachers followed suit and the students, those that weren't too busy gossiping, resumed their eating; eyes still firmly locked onto the mysterious boy in front of the Staff Table.

"Unfortunatly, Father's latest experiment didn't go quite as he planned." Understatement right there. The European Nation had been trying to create a potion that would create a drought. Instead he'd turned himself into a rabbit. "I know that he was supposed to come here on a favor regarding Harry, sir, so I've come in his place."

Harry, Harry, Harry, the newest prodigy in his father's land. The boy was all that his father could talk about lately; all of the good that he was doing for the wizarding world and, in turn, the human world and the Nations themselves. As if this one child was the cure to all. As if he was his son and not just another face in the sea of people living within them.

"Really now? Why I am horribly sorry that Arthur's experiments didn't work out, it's wonderful to have you here Mathew. Perhaps we could discuss the arrangments after dinner?" Dumbledore asked. A nod was the only answer he got. "Brilliant! Why don't you join your old house for dinner?"

It was clear, to Mathew at least, that Dumbledore couldn't remember where he'd been placed. Which was fine, really, because it had been a long time ago now that he was thinking about it. A lot of students had been sorted since then too. The man couldn't be expected to remember where everyone went.

That thought in mind, Mathew slowly made his way over to the Slytherin table, easily slipping into their ranks unnoticed.

Just like when he had actually been going there, back when he was just a colony.