So this is a Crossover where England, N. Ireland, Wales and Scotland all go to Hogwarts to protect harry comments are greatly appreciated, this is my first story so I hope you enjoy it ^^
"This is all your fault England" Shouted a red haired man with a heavy Scottish accent.
The Scotsman was currently standing outside England's house "Your bloody death eaters are keeping me up all hours of the night with their senseless killing" The red head continued ranting "Seriously I thought that we had got past all these stupid wars" He sighed "You nearly gave Nessie a heart attack, I COULD KILL YOU FOR THIS"
His last statement appeared to get him noticed because the front door opened a crack to reveal the much too pale face of England. His usually twinkling dark green eyes were dull and lifeless. Scotland was taken aback in shock; he hadn't seen him in so much pain since the world wars. Not even the American Revolution had left him looking this bad.
"What do you want Alistor" came the crackling voice of England.
"Well I came here to complain" He looked a tiny bit sheepish "But it appears wee brother you've had it a lot worse than me" he smiled slightly before glaring daggers "BUT I STILL WANT BLOODY ANSWERS FOR WHY DEATH EATERS ARE ATACKING ME"
England shook slightly but kept his ground looking up at his slightly taller brother "You might as well come in then" he said in the politest voice he could muster. He turned and entered the house, trying to hide his obvious limp as best he could.
Scotland looked after his brother, what has happened to you? He thought, Scotland had suffered slightly but not to the extent of England. Alistor had received a few injuries; two of his fingers were broken and would take a few days to heal. But looking after his brother he could tell that the boy had received injuries, Injuries that had not been allowed to heal before a fresh attack. Scotland sighed and followed his brother inside the house.
Arthur's house to clean, the Scotsman glanced around in disgust. Does this man have any personal belongings at all? Of course Alistor knew he did. After some official snooping, all for the war effort of course, Scotland had found a small stack of photographs hidden under his brother's pillow.
Even though he was angry at England at the time he couldn't bring himself to destroy them. Most of them were photos taken of paintings. Himself, England, N. Ireland and Wales all grouped together. It was probably one of their only family portraits, and Scotland knew that the original was long gone. Scotland smiled at the memory of the picture, his three siblings had looked so carefree even if he had used the traditional *touch my brothers and I will pound you into dust glare* true there were arguments and battles but in the end they were still his brothers.
The rest of the pictures mostly consisted of England holding a young America and Canada. Although he had appeared carefree in most of these pictures there was a new darkness to his eyes that countered his outward happiness. The pictures were torn, with curling edges and burnt corners. Alistor could see the tears blotching some of the pictures, especially those including America.
The final few pictures held the allies. When Scotland looked at this group of people and was almost glad that he was part of the United Kingdom. England represented them and he didn't have to go to the fruitless meetings.
Lost in his own thoughts Scotland didn't notice that England had stopped. Arthur was looking at him with a bemused expression "Something on your mind Alistor, you seem distracted"
"No, just thinking"
"Wow, that's a first"
The Scotsman moved to throttle his brother, but the Englishman stepped out of the way; only to trip over his own feet and go crashing into a bookcase. Scotland began to laugh, a booming laugh that filled the entire house. But he stopped abruptly when he saw the pain in England's eyes. He's even worse off than I thought.
"What has Riddle been doing to you?" he said shaking his head in pity at the crippled nation, England opened his mouth to retaliate but Scotland cut him off "you should have asked us to help you. Me, N. Ireland and Wales, we are meant to be the United Kingdom you know" Scotland looked down on him "You need our help. You should swallow your pride and just let us" England looked down at the floor defeated.
Scotland reached out his hand to help the smaller nation up. But before England was completely stood up other voices could be heard from outside; one Irish and one Welsh.
"Now we can get this party started" said Scotland grinning, England only grimaced.
The two newcomers stepped into the room "Wow England you look like shit" said the Irish one of the two.
"Thanks for the insight Ireland" said England crossly.
"You should be happy to see us, we came especially to make sure Scotland didn't kill you" The Welsh one said with a smile.
"I thought we came to watch and cheer Scotland on" muttered Ireland.
England glared daggers at him. Ireland smiled and waved.
Sensing the tension Wales decided to try and change the subject "So Iggy are you Ok?"
"Does it look like I'm OK" England growled.
Scotland sighed and took over "I have deduced from Arthur's grumbling that Riddle is most definitely back, the Death Eater attacks on my country prove that" He paused "We have to sort this out as quickly as possible or I'm worried Iggy might die"
For all the death threats and battles none of the countries wanted England gone. If you ever asked any of the three brothers they would probably say that they only kept him around so they wouldn't have to go to the world meetings. But in reality it was deeper than that, disregarding the fact they would never admit it to others or even each other.
You would have to be blind to tell that England wasn't suffering but he still managed to croak out "I think I know what we have to do" Arthur heaved a long breathe "The boy who lived must fulfil the prophecy, there is no other way to stop Riddle" The others nodded in agreement taken aback by the state of the small nation.
"Are you suggesting we protect Harry, Iggy" asked the soft voice of Wales.
England nodded; before closing his eyes.
"However much I hate agreeing with you Iggy" smiled Ireland "You are right, we must do everything we can to make sure that the prophecy follows through" he paused "to our advantage the Potter boy must not die"
"How do you suppose we protect him?" Came the gruff voice of Scotland "Me and Arthur can ask Dumbledore for a favour to get in but how are we supposed to get close to Harry"
"I know what to do" Ireland said in a slightly sing song way.
"Dark Magick?" His three siblings asked.
"Aww brothers, you know me so well"
A symbol was being painted onto the ground by a gleeful Ireland; he couldn't understand why the modern magic community hated Dark Magick so much.
The other nations watched Ireland and his antics. They didn't seem especially worried as they trusted Ireland, and they were going to make him go first. None of the Nations watching Conner knew exactly what was going to happen as he had been pretty shady on the details, claiming that he wanted it to be a surprise. But they could guess.
"How old is Harry" Ireland asked as he added the finishing touches to the salted runes.
England pondered for a moment "He's in his fifth year so he is 15" he stated. The other Nations now knew exactly what N. Ireland was doing, but all they could do was hope that the effects weren't permanent. The three brothers seemed to sigh at the exact same moment. Ireland, oblivious to their grumbling, continued to spray salt across the floor, copying a design from a well-worn book.
"Done" Ireland said with a smile and stood up.
"Finally" Muttered a slightly impatient Scott.
"So, who's going first" asked England.
"I vote England" Chirped a Happy Wales.
"Second it"
"Third"
England glared at them.
"Well you shouldn't have asked the question" stated Scotland
"Shouldn't Ireland go first since he set up the Runes" argued England.
"Oh but Iggy dear, I have to stay out here and make sure that my precious little brother doesn't get hurt" Ireland said nearly fluttering his eyelashes.
"Fine" Muttered England "Where do you want me?"
Inside England's head he was having a mental battle I must not explode, I have to remain calm, as much as I hate them I need them to help me, grrrrr why do they all have to be so god damn annoying.
Ireland answered, obviously happy at his brothers discomfort "in the centre is fine, make sure you don't smudge the edges" he said grinning.
England stepped into the centre of the room, being careful to avoid the salted runes.
Ireland went into full commander mode "Scott, Wales take up positions either side of me"
They obeyed in silence; it had been a long time since they'd seen Conner like this.
"Read these" Ireland passed out curling pieces of parchment, they began to chant.
The strange tongues connected with the runes on the floor. An unearthly flash took over the room.
When darkness returned England was left alone on the floor; the runes had been swept away.
"Did it work?" asked the now fifteen year old looking England.
"Yes it did" said Scotland, hiding a laugh behind his hand.
Ireland quickly cut the tension "alright who's next?"