Hey guys! Welcome to my first fanfic on here. Hmm...if you like it, please review! I'd love to see your comments on this. It would give me a lot more motivation to write. ^_^

It all started with a racking, painful, retching cough that splattered red over America's carpet.

America eyed England with unnatural concern.

"Dude, you okay Iggy?"

"Geh…what do you think, you bloody git?! And don't call me Iggy!"

"I have no idea! That's why I'm asking you, Iggy! What the heck is going on?!"

England groaned, suppressing another cough. He was seated on America's couch, prepared to engage in what was going to be a nice friendly visit. Instead, it looked as if he was going to have to discuss some heavy, worrying problems.

"I'm assuming you know of Voldemort," England began, running a hand through his rumpled hair.

"Volde…what? Yeesh, the guys from your house sure have weird names."

"Voldemort, America. And he's not some ordinary guy. He's a powerful Dark wizard, known for killing people left and right. And he's coming back from the dead soon."

"Eh? More of your imaginary friends? I'm losing you here, Iggy."

"God dammit, America, try to be serious here. Because I am. My health is deteriorating at a dastardly rate, and this is just the beginning. I'm NOT having him come back and wreak havoc faster than you can finish a hamburger. Urgh…this is a huge problem," England finished with another cough, blood spewing forth again.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! You're turning the carpet red! Oh well. I was going to vacuum it anyway. But jeez, I think I'll believe you for now. Evil wizard thingy coming back alive. I'll buy it."

England bit down the urge to snap that you couldn't vacuum blood off a carpet. He just had an idea, and he needed America to cooperate.

"Say," he said carefully, "Say…want to help me out?"

"Hm? I guess I could be the hero and stuff and totally kick that bad wizard guy's butt, but…don't you usually ask Norway and Romania for these kinds of magical problems?"

England winced slightly at the memory. Thirteen years ago, he was bed-ridden and severely ill due to Voldemort's rampage. Out of concern, Norway and Romania had went after Voldemort, eventually challenging him to a magic duel. But in the end…

"I'd rather not talk about it," England replied with a shudder. He still remembered how limp Romania's body was, and how even Norway's normally emotionless eyes seemed full of despair and sadness. "Let's just say it turned out badly."

In a rare show of reading the atmosphere, America shut up. "Sooooo….what do you want me to do exactly?"

England smiled. "Let me brief you up on that. We have some good news. We know exactly when Voldemort is planning to revive: the day of the Triwizard Cup finals."

"Tri-…what?" America frowned. "What's that?"

"Triwizard Cup," England sighed. "It's a competition between three different wizarding schools."

"Gotcha. Soooo….why is this particular baddie planning to come back on the day of the final? Does he want to watch it?"

The only thing preventing England from facedesking was his cough. "Don't be ridiculous America. The reason why he wants to act on that particular date is because he wants to have Harry Potter's blood. On that day, he'll lure Potter into a trap, get his blood, and come back stronger than before…hypothetically."

"Errrr….hypothetically?" America asked quizzically.

"Yep," England said happily. "That's where you come in. Hmmm….I might ask the rest of the Allies as well. I'm not that sure you can handle Voldemort and a bunch of his supporters while trying to whisk Potter away to safety. It's always nice to have backup, I guess. Oh, I'm going to enjoy this soooo much."

One look at England's face, and America knew that Volde-whatever-his-name was really in for it.

But there was something he still had yet to say.

"You still haven't answered my question, Iggy," America said, stamping his foot. "What do you want me to do exactly? Join in on the Triwizard Cup thingy? Hunt down the spy in this school of yours? Or maybe enroll in this school and keep an eye the Harry dude? Which is it?" he finished.

"I see that your intelligence has raised a few notches, America," England replied dryly. "As a matter fact, I want you to do none of those things. You don't have the magical skill to join the Triwizard Cup. If you hunt down the spy, you'll alert Voldemort and we'll lose the chance to capture him. And if you enroll in Hogwarts, I'll bet every last coin of mine that you, with your amazing lack of brains, would give away our identities as nations ten seconds in. No, none of the things here are ideal for our situation."

America threw up his arms. "Just tell me what the hell you want me to do."

"Be patient, you idiot. I think I know just what to do, but it'll take some time to plan out. I still have to ask the rest of the Allies on this as well. I'll tell you when everything's in place," England said. He paused to violently cough for a minute or so. "Hopefully. There's no guarantees that this will work out.

England gritted his teeth, suppressing the burning desire to cough his guts out. "No, there's nothing in it for you. If you do help out, it's going to be out of your own kindness and overwhelming generosity."

The Allies were seated around a table, all present and accounted for. Russia was fingering his water pipe, China frowning at England, France smiling coyly, and America grinning like a maniac as usual.

And England was at his wit's end.

"I still don't get, it aru," China voiced. "Why should I be joining you on your little escapade, aru? There's nothing in it for me, aru."

"China 'as a point," France fluttered his fingers. "Vhy? Vhy should I be doing zis? Or, perhaps, you are finally feeling the love, mon cher?

"It sounds like a good idea, da," Russia smiled. "I always like beating up bad little children. But, do you really need my help, da?"

"Come on dudes! You all have no sense of heroism!" America yammered.

"Listen," England grated. "I'm at the end of my rope here. I don't know what else to do. If you people don't decide to help, then I'll have no choice but to rely only on America. And we all know how well that's going to turn out. Can you at least work with me here for once, out of the goodness of your heart? I'm dying here, literally!"

There was an awkward silence.

"I'm not sure where my heart is right now, da," Russia mused.

Another awkward silence.

England rolled his eyes. "Well? What is it, bloody gits?"

"Vell, if you're zat desperate..." France twirled the rose that always seemed to pop out of nowhere.

"If it can't be helped, I'll lend you some of my four thousand years of wisdom then!" China said.

"I guess I can't let America go by himself, da," Russia smiled sweetly.

"Hey, I'm fine by myself, commie!"

"Then it's decided," England said determinedly. "Three days from now, come to my house! I'll give you the details then."

"Three days? Why three days?"

"It's a lucky number, aru!"

"Don't be such a child, America, da?"

"Ohonhonhon, perhaps England 'as to prepare some...certain zings?"

"You're probably totally right, France!"

England groaned and coughed out some more blood. Maybe he shouldn't have asked for help after all. But then again...

Boy, I can't wait to see Voldemort's face.

Thanks for reading! Again, if you likey, please, please, please review! Thank you again.