A/N: Hello! This is the continuation of a USUK Doujinshi I was watching on YouTube called "The Hero and the Magician".

Quick synopsis: Arthur Kirkland, second year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is cursed. Whenever somebody says his name, something terrible will happen to them, and because of this, he is shunned, alone, and very, very afraid. Alfred F. Jones, a first year, quickly gains interest in him after he helps him find his way back to the common room at night after being lost. He and Arthur bond, and Arthur finally tells him his name, and the curse doesn't seem to effect Alfred at all. One day, the two go off to search for a unicorn and Alfred is badly wounded. Arthur, believing himself and his curse responsible, uses a Time Turner to change the past so he and Alfred never met, and they never speak again...

Until now, after I was done crying from the sadness that was this fan comic! I hope you like, and I recommend going and looking up the Doujin.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own the initial plot line for the doujinshi: "The Hero and the Magician"

The Magician's Hero

"Hey, you!"

If the loud voice hadn't been directly in my ear, I wouldn't have bothered looking up. Usually when persons address one another they do so by name, and whenever someone around here is addressed by "Hey, you" it's not me anyways. Yet it's hard to misplace someone asking for your attention when their extremely loud and obnoxiously American voice is squawking into your eardrums so unexpectedly that you fall off your stool.

Which I did with great dignity, I assure you.

I could hear several people around me giggle as I landed on the floor, spilling my pumpkin juice in the process. Irritated, I looked up into sky blue eyes.

Alfred F. Jones.

I have a few improper words I would like to use about him, but being a gentleman, I shall refrain. But allow me to tell you a few things about Alfred F. Jones: he was a transfer student from America, and no amount of living here in the British Empire could change his stupid accent. Being charming and witty and handsome (I cantell these things, you know.), he gained popularity from the moment his black "converse" shoes stepped foot on the stone floor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. If that wasn't enough, he was also Captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team and held a mysterious reputation for having absolutely nothing hateful to pin down and gossip about him other than his "bloody hotness" as put by a female classmate.

All these facts were running around in my head when he stuck his hand in my face and grinned charmingly, showing perfect teeth. "Sorry dude, I didn't mean to scare you."

I reluctantly took his hand- the floor was slippery and I might have lost my balance otherwise. This promoted an immediate shocked silence amongst the students; after all, people like me didn't exactly get on 'hand-holding' basis with star students.

It was certainly not hand-holding, however.

The moment I was back on my feet, I retracted my hand and whipped out my wand, cleaning up the spilt juice. "I wasn't scared... you simply startled me."

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Alfred had been watching me clear up the mess that he had caused me to make. "Hey, what spell is that? I could defiantly use it- I'm a right klutz sometimes."

"Don't you take Charms class?" I scoffed, shoving my wand back into my pocket, rather pleased at my use of a nonverbal incantation. "Or do you not just pay attention in it?"

"I take it," Alfred said defensively, leaning casually against the table and attracting a few glares from my fellow Slytherin's: Alfred's skills at quidditch were well looked upon as a school, but as a rival House, he was a bit of an enemy against our senior player Antonio Carriedo. "I'm a fifth year, remember? You're sixth, right?"

"I learnt this spell in thirdyear," I told him, placing my quill in my bag and wrapping a piece of toast in a napkin for later- Professor Florence didn't mind if I ate in Muggle Studies. "Now, if you wanted something, get on with it; I'm going to be late for class."

"Oh, right!" Alfred snapped his fingers and his smile (did I call it charming earlier? Yes, well, I take it back- it's more of a dumb grin.) appeared once again on his face. "Okay, so I got in an argument with one of my friends and he stole my red ink that I reallyneed for Transfiguration, so I was wondering if I could borrow some?"

I stared at him, my bag half-way over my shoulder. "... You're asking me. For ink. Why on earth would I give you any? I don't even know you."

"Everyone knows me," Alfred said cheekily. "I'm the hero!"

"Yes, yes, Alfred Jones, the quidditch super-star..." I muttered, swinging my bag completely over my shoulder and turning to leave. "Get gone, boy."

"It's Alfred F. Jones," Alfred called after me, attracting a lot of stares. "And what's your name?"

I flushed and quickened my pace, leaving the Great Hall and for once not minding when the wave of students parted to let me through with whispers of "It's him" and "Don't look in his eyes". Something felt stuck in my throat, and I swallowed. I didn't get asked a lot of questions, but the time I might have wanted to turn around and answer his, I couldn't.

~oO0Oo~

I wish I could say the week passed by as its usual monotone of boring and unsocial events.

For all six years that I'd been at Hogwarts, my life hadn't consisted of much more then eating, sleeping, and attending classes. I didn't have any friends, and even the people I could loosely call acquaintances (for better or worse) would surely rather die than have me lurking about in their lives. It was better than primary school, because not being made fun of and called names was a plus, but also never having anyone to talk to because they were afraid of you... well, that could be lonely.

I suppose I sound like an old man.

Having exceptional grades, whether it's because I'm intelligent (I like to think I am) or because I have so much free time for lack of social time, puts me figuratively and literally in a corner by myself in the classroom. I don't need help in classes, and the professors are usually far too busy trying to help the mindless morons anyway. I'd help them too, but the last thing I need is to not only be feared, but to have people think I'm a snobbish brat. But really, what else am I supposed to do with my free time other than learn?

Apparently Alfred F. Jones had the answer to that.

Over the next five days, I went from "Hey, you" to "Dude" to "Caterpillar Brows", and every time I heard that voice, I bolted for the nearest spare classroom. You may think it rude, for me to complain about how ignored I am in my head and then run away from someone trying to get to know me, but what was I supposed to think? I had Alfred nearly corner me on multiple occasions, demanding my name and asking hoards of questions and inquiries.

"What's your last name, if you won't tell me yours first?"

"What class do you have next?"

"Where are you from?"

"Who's your favorite teacher?"

"Is it true you spilled Hair-Growth potion on your forehead and that's why your eyebrows are so bushy?"

God, did that last question set my teeth on edge.

"No, it's not true!" I spat out that Friday on my way to Potions. "I have perfectly normal eyebrows, thank you very much! Now leave me alone!"

"C'mon, dude!" Alfred begged, trailing after me on my way to the dungeons. "Just tell me your name!"

"No," I said venomously. "Don't you have class to get to?"

He ignored my comment. "I've tried asking people but either no one knows, or the ones that look like they do won't tell me! What's up with that?"

"Maybe they don't feel like nosing into other people's business," I grumbled, taking the steps down two at a time. "Unlike some people."

"But no one knows nothing about you, man!" Alfred protested, keeping up with me easily.

"No one knows anythingabout me," I instinctively corrected him, and then cursed myself for talking. "Use your grammar, Jones!"

I reached the wooden door, and my hand was reaching for the handle when Alfred's fist shot out and kept me from opening it. I glared at him and was startled to see an equally heated gaze trained on me. How dare he be upset with me? I did nothing wrong- I just wanted to be left alone.

"Haven't you ever tried to make friends?" He accused, blue eyes narrowed. "Or noticed when someone clearly wants to make friends with you? Usually they start by saying their name."

"I don't have any friends," I immediately said. "Let me in."

"That's not an answer to my question, dude."

"I'm not answering your questions!" I snapped, stepping up so I was face to face with him. He was a good deal taller than me, enough so the top of my hair would barely tickle his chin if I cared to stand directly below him. "Don't you get that yet? I don't have friends because I have a good reason to, and my life is none of yours or any ones, business! I bet this is just some joke between you and your mates, right? To see if you can find out just what exactly is wrong with me? Well, too bad!"

I was breathing heavily, and Alfred looked shocked, and then to my great surprise, a little hurt. "I'll admit that when I asked for ink, it was on a dare with a friend of mine... but not how you think!" he added as my cheeks flared red in anger. "He was going on about how weird you were, and I didn't think you were so bad, right? So he said that if I was so tough, I should go and talk to you. So I did, and now... I just want to know your name. It would be so not cool if I was just using you, dude! I swear I'm not, I just want to be your friend."

My friend?

How childish was that? 'I just want to be your friend'. It sounded like a line from a bad American film, and I would only be half-surprised if he hadn't picked it up from one... and yet...

No one, not ever, had sought me out as a friend.

Alfred must have seen my expression change, and he offered a small smile and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, removing his hand from the door. "Sorry, man. I just thought you were kinda cool is all, and I'd like to get to know you better, if you'd let me."

At what cost? How long would it take before I became attached? Before he realized I wasn't fun, or 'cool', or interesting beyond my predicament? Then I'd have no one, and it'd be different then it was now. I'd always been alone; I hadn't ever had a friend to care about me. Or a friend to lose. Was it worth it? Was he just pulling my leg?

"Look..." Alfred shuffled his feet and looked down. "I'm sorry for being so annoying. I'll leave you alone now, but I've got quidditch practice this evening, and maybe if you wanna come down and let me know if you'll accept my request...? It's over at seven."

He gave me a last smile and left me standing at the door to the Potions classroom with my mouth hanging open and my head fighting my heart.

~oO0Oo~

I don't know why I went. It's probably because I'm a fool. But there I was, feeling awkward as the bottom of my favorite, worn out pair of trainers became stained green by the wet grass of the quidditch pitch. I probably could have gone and waited in the stands, but hiding by the locker room seemed to be a better option- less people saw me, easy exit, and... Maybe I was worried Alfred had forgotten and was going to walk out without knowing I was there.

The evening was chilly and carried a hint of pumpkin and spice from the ground-keeper's cabin garden, reminding me that the holidays were going to start soon, and that the weather was going to begin to get much colder. From my little corner of the field I watched the seven members of the Gryffindor quidditch team fly around the pitch, their laughter and talking sounding small and tinny from where I was situated on the ground. I could instantly tell which player was Alfred, as he was the fastest, most daring player out there, and seemed to be commanding the other players. He was also graceful in the air, something I never quite associated with the American before.

I was only standing for about five minutes when I heard a whistle and watched as the team began to descend, playfully shoving each other around on their broomsticks. I huddled backwards, trying to blend my green and gray plaid sweater vest with the scarlet and gold banner behind me, to no avail. The team landed and I looked away as they all stared, smiles fading and whispering amongst themselves suspiciously.

"Hey!"

Alfred was walking up to me, positively beaming. His golden hair was windswept and his glasses were slightly crooked, but he looked rather endearing in his too-big sweater and baggy jeans, broomstick clasped tightly in one hand. I almost smiled back, but was conscious of the rest of the team goggling at the two of us.

"You came!" He exclaimed, prancing to my side. His cheeks and nose were slightly red from the cold, blue eyes brightly lit. "Dude, I'm so glad!"

"Yes... well..." I cleared my throat and looked down at my trainers. "I decided maybe there was some truth to your words."

"Great!" His smile grew bigger and he turned to his team mates, who were looking like they he had sprouted antlers. "Fantastic practice, guys. Get some rest- our first game's only two weeks away, and we're not quite ready yet... but we're getting there!"

They looked at one another before seeming to shrug and walk for the locker room, persona changing completely as they left, laughing again.

"Wanna take a walk?" Alfred suggested, gesturing to the expanse of the field. "Or a fly?"

"Oh, no," I shook my head quickly and felt my stomach clench as I looked at the broom. "No flying, please... I-I don't care for heights."

"Alright, we can walk then!" Alfred said cheerfully, and we began our trudge along the rim of the pitch. "What made you change your mind?"

I shrugged and kept my eyes on the ground in front of my feet. What was I supposed to say? That I was experimenting with the idea of having a connection with a human being for the first time? That I was absolutely terrified? That I didn't want to be all by myself anymore? "I don't know... you're a very convincing smooth-talker, Jones."

"Ha, I've heard that before!" Alfred laughed, a little bounce in his step. "From my mom."

"You smooth talk your mum?" I snorted. "Why aren't I surprised?"

"Well, I really wanted this broom..." Alfred held out the sleek wooden broomstick for me to see. "I had to butter her up and ended up getting it for a birthday present. And call me Alfred."

He looked at me expectantly, and I remembered that he wanted my name. "Oh... okay, Alfred... um, you can call me Kirkland."

"That's a funny name..." Alfred frowned and crossed his arms. "It's your last name, isn't it?"

"Yes," I said stiffly. "Kirkland."

"And your first?" Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Come on..."

"I... I can't tell you," I whispered, looking at my hands that had begun wringing themselves into knots. "I already risked a lot telling you my last name."

"Aw, jeez..." Alfred rolled his eyes and startled me by putting an arm around my shoulder. "Just tell me, I won't even tell anyone else if you don't want!"

"That's not the problem," I muttered, straining away- it was no use, the boy's arms were like vines. "... I can't tell you..."

"I thought we were gonna be friends!"

"I want to be!" I suddenly cried out, pushing him away, my emotions taking over. "Alfred, I want to, I swear I do! I wish I could tell you my name, I wish I could! But I don't want you getting hurt!"

Alfred looked at me, confused. "What do you-"

"Are you blind or something?" I choked out, willing myself not to break. "Haven't you seen how everyone avoids me? I mean, it's not just because I'm... I'm grouchy or something! They all know the rumors, and it's true, dammit!"

I wiped at my eyes, furious at myself for displaying such vulgar emotions. Alfred was quiet.

And then: "You mean the curse everyone talks about?"

So he had heard the rumors after all.

"Yes, yes," I turned away. "That."

"So if you tell me your name and I say it, I'll be cursed? Why?"

"I don't know," I said bitterly. "I've been like this forever."

"What'll happen?" Alfred asked curiously. "I mean, to me, if I say your name?"

"You'll get hurt," I heard myself say as my mind went off on its own.

"Mum!"

Blood everywhere. Can't see. Everything... so thick... sticky...

"Mum, please!"

Hair. Blonde hair. Eyes like cloudy green glass.

Tears. Fear. Aching, terrible, sadness...

"Please, wake up, Mum, wake up... please!"

"I don't care."

I blinked and looked back at Alfred, gaping. "What do you mean you don't care?"

Alfred grinned and put a hand on my shoulder. "Dude, I don't care.I'm not gonna let some dumb old curse keep you completely miserable all the time! You deserve for at least someone to be able to call you by your real name- who better than a hero?"

"Don't be stupid," I snapped, brushing his hand away. "You... you don't even know what you're saying. People have gotten hurt because of me, Alfred. It's my fault and I can't let it happen again."

"It's not your fault!" Alfred protested, stepping closer. There was a logo on his red sweater- a yellow "M". "You didn't ask to be cursed."

"But I told them my name," I folded my arms across my chest. "And they got hurt... so it is my fault. I shouldn't have... I shouldn't have told them. It was selfish."

"Dude," Alfred came a bit closer, and I could see navy specks in his perfectly cerulean eyes. "It's not selfish to want someone to care about you."

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

"I mean, really!" Alfred laughed loudly. "Man, I can't imagine not having anyone to dump my problems on! Dude, there's nothing wrong with needing someone to talk to, especially when you've got a problem like yours. I mean, seriously, I would probably die in your situation! I love talking to people, you know? So if I had to keep myself a secret, I probably would turn super mean and whatever, and you're pretty strong if you can do all that and still stay cool. Well, you are kinda grumpy, but that's okay, anyone would be! And-"

"Arthur."

It escaped before I could catch it.

"Huh?" Alfred stared at me.

"That's my name," I whispered, fiddling with my thumbs. "Arthur. Arthur Kirkland."

I looked down at my feet. My comfortable, grass-stained shoes looked a little out of place when Alfred's shiny black converses were within eyesight as well. He wasn't saying anything... why had I done that? I was an idiot, really. Maybe a memory modification spell would do the trick... if explained to the Headmaster that someone could get hurt, the spell wouldn't be so bad, I could probably even do it myself in secret and-

"It's nice to meet you... Arthur."

I think I expected a crash of thunder and maybe a lightning bolt to shoot from the sky and hit him in the head.

It didn't.

And a pair of big, warm arms wrapped around me and pulled me into a warm, fried-food smelling chest. I froze, shocked, but Alfred kept hugging me. I could feel his breath in my hair and stared into the shadow of his sweater for a long moment before closing my eyes and bringing my arms up to gently squeeze him back. I had never been hugged by anyone other than my mum. I wasn't even sure if I liked it or not, but I appreciated the contact after not having much over the last few years.

"See?" Alfred pulled back and held me at arm's length, eyes twinkling behind his glasses. "Not so bad, right?"

"Just... don't say it too much..." I muttered, frowning. "I don't know how much it actually takes until something happens..."

"Then I'll give you a nickname!" Alfred proclaimed. "I'll think of a really good one, too. That way I can say your name, but not! Like, cheating the curse or somethin'!"

"I don't know..." I bit my lip. "I don't care for nicknames..."

"I'll pick out a great one, Arthur!" He noticed me wince and quickly added, "Um... I mean... Artie?"

"Oh, God no!" I exclaimed, mortified. "Not Artie! That's so... American!"

"Yeah, but it's mynickname to you, right? And I'm All-American!" Alfred beamed.

"Oh, bullocks..." I shook my head, exasperated. "Don't call me Artie."

"Then..." He squinted at me and began backing up as I began walking forward, towards the exit. He held his hands in an "L" and framed my face like a picture. "Art?"

"No," I raised an eyebrow. "Still too American."

"Um... how 'bout Arth?"

"No..."

"Arby?"

"Where did you get that from?"

"A-Man?"

"You can't be serious."

"Art-Dog Yo."

"... I'm not going to answer that."

"Arthurama!"

"Git."

A/N:

And such was the start of a beautiful friendship/something more/YAOI... *tears well up*

I hope you liked :P

And if I get positive response... I may make this a two-shot... *hint*hint*

I LOVE YOU ENGLAND AND AMERICA! :DDDDD

Reviews are love, people! And I love you~!