This is my new Harry Potter and Hetalia crossover! My mom actually bought the entire Harry Potter series (Finally!) so I am currently rereading the 5th book, the year that this story will be taking place in. Of course, I will alter it to fit the plotline that I have planned out. I hope you enjoy it, as these are both topics that are very near and dear to my hearts~

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Hetalia.

Chapter One: A Preposition

England ignored the rain lashing against the windows of his study while he filled out paperwork. Perhaps if he wasn't so accustomed to it it would startle him, but this was really just common everyday occurrence, and he needed to get the papers about the "Police in Plain Clothes" finished so that he could finally be rid of it. So no matter how loathe he was to do it, he had to buckle down, otherwise people would think no more of him than America. Besides, it would take much more than a simple rain storm to shake him-

And that's when he felt it. A deep, sharp, sudden pain flared in the center of his chest, right over his heart. This was accompanied by a splitting headache and even a nosebleed. England dropped his pen and bent in half, clutching at his shirt in a vain attempt to ease the pain.

One of his citizens, somewhere in the world, had just died.

'W-What?' England thought to himself. 'Why is it this bad out of nowhere…?' Nations have always felt the ebb and flow of the lives in their borders, but they are only truly aware of their own citizens. They can tell when someone under their care has died no matter which country they are in at that moment. This feeling manifests in the form of, usually minor, chest pain. Only in the event of major catastrophe do they experience anything like what England was going through now...But as far as England was aware, everything was fine. The economy was alright, the politicians were getting along as well as normal, there hadn't been any major wars in at least thirteen years…

England froze, blood dripping down his face and onto the wooden floor.

Thirteen years. It had been thirteen years since the last battle against...

Immediately England was up, running out of the room, down the stairs, and into his basement. Panting, he reached the bottom and lit a couple of candles. They threw dancing shadows across the walls lined with bookshelves and various odds and ends. He ignored all of these in favor of a clear patch of space in the middle of the room's floor. England withdrew a piece of chalk from his pocket, and quickly, yet steadily, traced a circle on the floor. Then, along the outer rim, he wrote a single, repeating sentence, "Ostendite mihi quid agatur*." Standing erect once more, England walked over to a cabinet on the far side of the room, and, after glancing hurriedly through its contents, took out a small vial of a cloudy substance. Unstopping it, he crossed back over and poured it directly into the middle of the circle. Immediately, it filled with what seemed to be some sort of vortex, swirling around ominously.

England let out a breathe of air, and started chanting.

"Ostendite mihi quid agatur. Ostendite mihi quid agatur. Ostendite mihi quid agatur. Ostendite mihi quid agatur!" His voice gradually increased in volume, until, with sudden deafening silence, he stopped. There, in the vortex before him, was a collection of images all moving rapidly. In one there showed some sort of maze, surrounded by a large crowd of people all seemingly cheering as if at a ball game. In another, there was a young boy surrounded by tall hedges (he was probably inside the maze) running about as if to escape something, or to get somewhere. In yet another, there was the same boy accompanied by another in a graveyard. As England watched that particular scene, he felt a shadow of the pain he felt earlier (thankfully the bleeding had stopped) as he saw the second boy fall to the ground, dead, after a burst of green light.

Another picture contained the first boy with a man this time. Upon seeing the man, England's heart seemed to stop.

There he was, after all this time. Good as new.

Lord Voldemort.

Which undoubtedly made the boy Harry Potter, a mere fourteen year old who was still learning how to cast a respectable transfiguration spell, the one dueling him amidst a glowing dome of light.

Wait.

England squinted his eyes and attempted to lean a little closer.

That was old magic, magic England hadn't seen performed by anyone other than a country in many, many years. And judging by the astonished expressions on Harry and Voldemort's faces, along with the stunned profiles of the Death Eaters, they hadn't been expecting this either. England examined everything critically, from the figures that emerged from Voldemort's wand to the intensity with which the spell had seemed to grasp the two foes. Needless to say, it was a moment that must have been filled with high emotions, at least from Harry's end.

England finally drew his gaze away from that image and instead looked at the final picture in the circle. It was once again an outside view of the maze, yet this time with a significant difference. Instead of the happy and animated expressions the crowd had worn before, now they all seemed to be horror struck, no doubt by the confusing predicament which was taking place at the start of the maze.

There were several people surrounding a boy on the ground, who was clutching the plainly dead body of another person. England watched in sadness as he saw an older man push his way through the surrounding crowd to join Harry. He cradled the dead man, and England could plainly tell that he had been his father as he seemed to howl with grief. It was an expression that England had seen many times in his life, and had even experienced…

Shaking his head to clear it of these thoughts, England straightened up and, with a clear "Id est omnia**." made the vortex vanish, with it no trace of it ever being there except for the drawn circle and the surrounding mantra. England began to pace the room, his hand in his hair as he mumbled restlessly to himself.

"Voldemort back...But how...Must have something to do with Harry...Everyone's in danger now, what do I do...What do I do?" England asked, coming to a complete standstill as he pondered this. He placed his head in his hands, overwhelmed by everything that was taking place so quickly.

He hadn't even been involved with the Magical Community for around a hundred years, let alone when the last confrontation with Voldemort took place. He had had a place in the Ministry of Magic just as he has one with the muggle ministry, but he had noticed that the corruption of the magical government was steadily increasing with each passing year. England had known that it would soon reach a point where they wouldn't even listen to him anymore, simply because he wasn't human. So he had left, swearing to not get involved with the magical community directly anymore.

Now, however, he knew that he had no choice but to rejoin the magical world. This was simply too big to let go unnoticed. But what would he do, and how would he do it…? England's thoughts drifted back to Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, that had saved his people over a decade before when he was only an infant.

With Voldemort back, Harry would be in grave danger. Someone would need to protect him and, despite Albus Dumbledore's reputation, England felt that even more people were required to help insure Harry's safety. But how would he go about it? He couldn't just pop in and say, "Hello, I'm the anthropomorphic representation of England, and I'm here to look after Harry Potter". He would never be allowed near the boy, and besides, it would be best if this was done with the utmost secrecy. So that left only one option…

England would have to go to Hogwarts. Preferably as a teacher, so that he would then be able to go where he pleased, usually, and it wouldn't seem quite as suspicious if he was caught keeping an eye on Harry. In fact, he could probably just tell them the truth, but only as to his cause. He would have to be careful about who he trusted, and really, that was only a back up plan anyway.

But England knew that he wouldn't be able to do this alone, no matter how much he would've liked to. Even if he became Harry's teacher, he wouldn't be with him every moment of the day. What England really needed was for someone to go in undercover as a student and befriend Harry so as to keep watch over him at all times. And for that to happen, England would need to ask for help. He shivered as he ascended back up the stairs to his office once more.

Who to ask? It was a good idea to get at least a handful of the others, that way the odds of one of them being in Harry's house would be increased. Definitely not any younger nations, as they wouldn't really know how to conduct themselves or keep their true identities hidden. Maybe Germany and Japan. But if he asked Germany then Italy would want to come, which would be a bit of a downside as England didn't know if Italy was quite up to the task. Then he would ask China and, another shiver, Russia. The two were good at covert operations, and despite how England hadn't always gotten along with both of them, he knew they would be reliable aspects.

England wrote down the names of all the nations he'd thought of so far and paused. Looking at them like that, he realized that the odds of any one of them being in Gryffindor were rather slim. In fact, there was only really one country England could think of off the top of his head that fit the bill.

Sighing, England added America's name to the list.

Maybe just one more...but who...

'I guess I'll ask the frog,' England thought, grimacing as he placed France's name underneath America's. 'He's surprisingly good at coercing information out of people, so he'd be good to have in one of the other house's to keep track on what they were saying.'

Placing the pen down, England thought over his choices, trying to make certain that he had made the right decision. Then he picked up his desk phone and dialed a number that he didn't use that frequently. It picked up on the second ring.

"Hello? England?" The deep baritone voice asked, it's english thickly accented.

"Yes, hello Germany. I called to ask a favor of you," England replied, getting right down to business. He knew Germany wasn't liable to appreciate small talk, and besides, this needed to be sorted out as soon as possible.

"What is it?" England could hear the underlying tone of curiosity, but otherwise the other nation was as firm and business like as usual. Taking a deep breathe, England launched into his plan.

"I'm going to need your help, along with a few others. Here's what I need…"

*Latin: Show me what is going on.

**Latin: That is all.