Sitting at a rather extravagant desk, in a luxurious room, in a massive manor in the rolling hills of the countryside in United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, a blond haired man crumpled a piece of parchment between his fingers.

He straightened it out and ripped it to shreds for good measure.

Then he leaned back in his office chair and tossed the scraps into the fire place, and watched as the malevolent orange and red flames rosted the offending letter as if it were a chestnut.

Forest green eyes watched with satisfaction as the edges of the parchment began to curl and darken in the intense heat, accompanied by soft cracks of burning wood ricocheting off of the ashen bricks of the fire place.

"Heh" he chuckled to himself and crossed his arms over his chest. "Nice to see that the Ministry of Magic is a mental as ever." He said with a twinge of sarcasm in his words. The man in the green uniform would never consider himself just another ordinary human. Nor would he consider himself just an ordinary wizard either. You see, he carried a secret deep within himself.

He was everything that the eye could see.

He was the trees that inhabited the forest for centuries. He was the birds, the flowers, the grass and the clouds. He was the quaint little cottage just up the road, he was the towering buildings that populated London.

He was the little girl who obsessively bought as much Doctor Who merchandise that could fit in her room, and the old man who gazed out his apartment window, wondering where the time had gone.

Arthur Kirkland was England, and all that it entailed.

And really, he would much rather prefer to be called England than Arthur. Only humans with no inkling as to the existence of the Nations referred to him as Arthur.

England was the living personification of a plethora of people living on an island country. He had seen Empires rise and fall. He had seen the horrors of war, as well as some of history's happiest moments.

So long as England stood, so would Arthur.

Of course, that didn't mean that he, the great and powerful personification of the mighty country of England, wasn't a target of spam just like everyone else.

Even if it were 'official' notices from the Minister of Magic himself asking if Kirkland family would be willing to part with a couple hundred, or maybe thousand galloons for the sake of bettering the whole of the British Wizarding World.

Really, it was as if the Ministry was begging to be bribed and black mailed.

England would just dispose of any letters with the official Ministry of Magic stamp on it the moment an owl touches down at his window.

He would read them sometimes, just to see if there was anything intelligent written on the pages of parchment. But more often than not, it was just garbage.

Just like that letter that Arthur had just thrown into the fire.

Minister Fudge had tried to contact Arthur to make sure that he was doing well, and to extend an invitation to a pureblood Galla for tomorrow evening.

Arthur snorted.

Once upon a time the idea of being in the Wizarding World would have been a marvelous idea for England. Spending time in a place where the violent and bloody wars of the muggle world didn't hold much meaning, and not having to deal with the stress of complex politics was what England had always dreamed of. He would spend months, even years completely content with living in the magical communities that dotted the Island country.

But times have changed and humanity had evolved.

England grew more and more distant from the magical community.

In fact, the human personification hadn't even stepped foot in the Wizarding world for the better part of the twentieth century. But that didn't mean that he never practiced. And that didn't mean that he didn't spend time with his magical friends that have been with him since childhood. Despite keeping his distance from the magical world, England practiced magic almost daily. No one could say that he had ever gotten rusty with his treasured wand.

But as it stood, England preferred the modern Muggle world over the Wizarding world now a days.

That, and he just couldn't stand the current Minister of Magic.

There was a light tap on the glass window right above Arthur's desk, and the man with the green army suit did a double take.

"Bloody hell, Again?" He hissed. England cranked his neck around and stood up so fast that his chair went spiraling in the other direction.

He unlatched the window and slammed the window frame up, scaring the poor owl so badly that it hooted in alarm and flapped it's wings in hysteria.

"Ah, sorry about that ol' girl." England muttered under his breath as he let his shoulders slump forward and a small smile graced his features. England gently reached out and untied the letter attached to the old barn owl.

He stepped away from the bird, expecting it to fly off at any second, just like all of the other ministry birds.

But it stayed.

England furrowed his thick eyebrows at this odd behavior, but didn't say anything. Instead, he opened the letter and unfolded the thick piece of parchment.

'Dear Arthur Kirkland,Head of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Kirkland,'

The letter began, and England couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Why am I even reading this" he asked himself as he tore up the parchment without reading any further. With a quick flick of his hand, the shredded pieced of the letter floated down to the fireplace where the flames greedily licked the air.

With a satisfied nod of his head, England turned back to the owl that watched in horror as the letter it was tasked to deliver literally went up in flames.

England scolded the bird. "What are you still doing here? Go!" He said as he waved his hands in a shooing motion. The bird flapped its wings and let out a shrill hoot before hoping out the window and flying away.

The blond haired man shook his head and sat back down in his chair. He had a boat load of paper work he need to get through and these constant owl messages were very distracting. Perhaps he should get one of those wards that kept owls out. At least then he wouldn't be bombarded by letters from the Ministry practically everyday.

That was actually a really good Idea. England opened one of the drawers in his desk and plucked out a wade of sticky notes. With his pen he carefully wrote down a note to remind him to look into mailing wards.

"Sir!" Someone yelled out as the door behind England slammed open.

"The Hell!?" England yelped in response. His pen went flying and his stack of sticky-notes fluttered to the table. England slammed his hands against his desk and then whirled around to face the intruder.

"Sir." A young lad with spiky brown hair panted. "Sir, your brother's here."

England was just about to open his mouth to lecture his young ward about the dangers of scaring him in his own office, when he suddenly realized what the young man had just said.

"What? Who the bloody hell invited them?" The Nation asked, more to himself than anyone else.

"I don't know. But they've been banging on the door for the last couple of minutes, and I know you told me not to let them in, so I didn't. But they just won't stop, and I've told them to leave multiple time, but they just didn't listen so I called the security guards, but your brothers just knocked them out and so I locked the door but then they just kicked it down and now they're coming up the stairs, and I didn't know what to do and I'm sorry, I'm sorry sorry so sorry." The boy sobbed in hysterics, but England wasn't paying attention.

His brothers were here.

Why?

Which ones?

It didn't matter. Practically all of England's brothers had a beef with him for one reason or another.

Oh, this was going to be a disaster.

A time bomb waiting to explode.

Without waiting another moment, England got up out of his seat and pushed past the panicking boy who was now busy banging his head against the side of the door frame while frustrated tears streamed down his face. England stormed through the long hallway, and down the stairs before turning towards the kitchen, where he knew his brothers would be.

When he got there, England felt a faint sense of surprise when he found only one other presence in the room. But that didn't stop his temper from bubbling up beneath the surface of his skin.

"Mind telling my why you scared Alexander half to death?" England asked, making sure that his annoyance bleed through to his voice.

"Oi, Artie," A deep voice with an unmistakable Scottish accent said. England's eye twitched violently at the nickname. "Your liquor sucks."

England felt his right eye start twitching uncontrollably. "Scotland," He stated, trying to hold down his raging anger. "That is not an appropriate answer to my question."

"He was in the way." Scotland stated with an air of carelessness.

England gritted his teeth. "What. Are. You. Doing. Here."

Scotland raised an eyebrow. The man had casually laid out on an elegant dining chair, and had his boot clad feet propped up on the table. In his had was a bottle of alcohol that he had most likely swiped from the top of England's refrigerator.

"I'm here for two reasons," the Scotsman said "One: I'm out of liquor -surprising. I know- and I figured that you'd have some. Two: We need to talk about Hogwarts."

England's mouth was working a mile a minute, but no words formed in his voice box.

"Mmh hmmm. Yeah, keep looking like an idiot. It suits you." Scotland said as he took another gulp from his bottle.

"Why on earth would you want to talk about Hogwarts at a time like this?!" England finally exploded. "Do you know how much paperwork I have to fill out for my government? Not to mention I still have to prepare a presentation for the next World Meeting. And now, I have to fix the front door THAT YOU BROKE!" England yelled out as he pointed an accusing finger at the broken door that now laid in ruins on the ground, resembling a pile of wood chips more than anything.

"Relax Artie, this is relevant." Scotland said without sparing England a second glance.

"Really?" England asked sarcastically. "Let me guess. One of Wales's sheep drunk a growth potion and is now rampaging through the Forbidden Forest like some kind of fluffy Godzilla. Again."

Scotland lifted his boots off of the table and placed them firmly on the ground with two loud thuds. "Good guess, but no. Did you get the letter?"

England shot Scotland a wary look. "What letter?"

"The one that should have come by owl."

"By owl?"

"Are you hard of hearing? Yes, by owl."

The blond haired man snorted in disbelief. "You of all people should know that I don't keep contact with the Wizarding World."

"Figured. You shredded the letter, then." Scotland said, completely unsurprised with his younger brother's actions.

"I threw it in the fire. Just like all the other letters I receive from the Ministry of Magic."

"Well, one of those letters that you burned wasn't from the Ministry of Magic. One of those letters were from Hogwarts."

England raised a bushy eyebrow. "And how, pray tell me, do you know this?"

Scotland reached into one of his pockets and produced a neatly folded piece of parchment. "Because all of us got one." He said with a smug little smirk. England unfolded his arms and stomped over to his older brother.

"What do you mean 'All of us'?" England asked as he ripped the parchment out of Scotland's hand. He tightened his grip on his paper after reading the header, but continued reading the letter.

"The twins, Wales, and the two of us." Scotland said, but was quickly shushed with a wave of England's hand. Scotland stared at his younger brother with boredom before turning away and taking another swig from his bottle.

"A teaching position?" England asked utter disbelief. "Why the bloody hell is Dumbledore coming to us about a teaching position?"

"Have you already lost your ability to read, little brother? Looks like old age is catching up to you."

"If I'm old then you must be an ancient git who doesn't know when to shut up."

"Not really. No."

England was very tempted to pick up one of his glass vases and smash it over Scotland's head. He took a deep calming breath. No, he couldn't explode over this. He wouldn't. As soon as rejection bites Scotland in the ass, he'll leave. Then England could finally get back to his work.

"I do not understand why you're here. Leave."

"I will, I will. Just as soon as I finish the bottle."

"You can finish it on the way out the door."

"You're so up-tight Artie. You need to relax a little."

"I'll relax when you're in the other side of the country."

"The World Meetings are pretty stressful. If you want I could step in for you while you occupy yourself with some less aggravating work."

"I don't need your-" England stopped half way through his comeback. His eyes darted back and forth as if reading and invisible text. "Are you? Are you trying to convince me to become the Magical History Professor at Hogwarts?"

Scotland shrugged nonchalantly "Something along those lines."

"I will not become a bloody school teacher!" England snapped. He couldn't believe that Scotland even had the audacity to ask such a question. "I am not, I repeat: not going anywhere near Hogwarts. So you better find someone else, because I'm not doing it."

"You used to love Hogwarts." At this, England felt his fingers turn numb. Dammit. Scotland always knew how to push his buttons.

"Times have changed." England snapped. "If you think that I'd jump at the chance to renter the magical world, then you are sorely mistaken. I am much to busy to with world politics and the muggle government to become an effective teacher for the young students." Something moved in the corner of England's eyes. He stopped suddenly and an uneasy silence settled on the two brothers.

"WALES! GET OUT OF MY ROSE BUSHES!" England suddenly yelled as his anger was redirected at the window. In the distance, a blob of reddish-blond poked out of one of the thorny bushes that lined the drive way. The man, Wales, Stumbled out of his hiding spot and sprinted over to the house. By that point, England was just about to snap.

"Hey Artie." Wales said sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck. "What brings you here?"

"I live here." England said flatly. "What are you doing here?"

"I, uh... I was trying to find one of my sheep. Yeah. They ran off." The other man said. Then, Wales reached out and grabbed a ball of white fluff. "Hey look! I found him. So, uh, I'll be going now! BYE ARTHUR!" And with that proclamation, Wales ran off leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.

England turned to Scotland. "Why was he here."

"If you didn't accept the position at Hogwarts, we were planning on kidnapping you. But that plan's been pretty much shot to hell."

"You what?! You know what? Never mind. I should have expected something like that."

Scotland lolled his head to the side and smirked. "I'm sure you haven't noticed, but Hogwarts isn't the institution that it once was, mate. They could really use someone like you. They're struggling to keep a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for longer than a year."

"You must be joking. Didn't they just fight and win a war? Surely they must have some competent people on hand to teach the next generation."

"Yeah, and the person Dumbledore left to teach the kids to defend themselves was good ol' Lockhart."

"...Lockhart... Gilderoy Lockhart... You know, for a moment there, I thought you were actually being serious." England said dismissively.

Scotland fell silent.

England huffed in annoyance at the lack of response before turning on his heels. He needed to do something with his hands before they decided to strangle Scotland. Perhaps some tea would help. Yes, tea. Tea made everything better.

"Besides, It's your school. I'm sure you'll find someone to take up the position before the start of the school year. There are plenty of historians to choose from."

"Huh." Scotland muttered to himself. "You really have cut ties with the Wizarding World, little brother."

"What was that?" England narrowed his eyes as he began to poor water from the kettle into a ceramic mug.

Scotland jumped to his feet behind him. "Oh, I was just saying that I was going to put you in charge of choosing a new History Professor for Hogwarts. Whether it's you or someone else I don't really care. So if you'd excuse me I'll be leaving. Oh, and I'll be taking this too." He said as he pointed at his liquor.

"Hey! I'm not done with you!" England sputtered, but it was too late. Scotland was already out the door. "You can't leave yet!"

"Watch me!" Came Scotland's muffled reply. England dropped his mug of lukewarm tea onto the counter top and raced over to the doorless doorway just in time to see Scotland turn the corner and disappear from sight.

"Wanker!" England hissed under his breath as he ran a hand through his messy hair. He paused for a second before letting his arm fall to his side. With a tilt of his head, England looked up at the grey cloudy sky above.

The soft sound of wind-chimes danced in the still air.

"Hiya England!"

Said man sighed in relief. He knew that high pitched voice anywhere. "Hello Minty." He greeted cheerfully. All of the previous pent up frustration melted off of the Nation's face.

"You were getting upset, and I wanted to help cheer you up!" Flying Mint bunny fluttered around England's head twice before settling down in England's outstretched arms. "I don't like it when you're sad and angry." She said wistfully. England smiled down at his faithful companion. He was forever grateful to have a friend like Minty. Someone who would actually listen to his rants and went out of their way to make sure that he was happy.

"Well then, looks like you've cured me." he replied. Minty cooed in delight and nudged England's hand. The man shifted Minty around and began to gently pet the winged bunny's head. The two stood there, quietly enjoying each others company as the sun fell on the horizon.

England froze.

An idea entered his head, and swept through his mind like a whirlwind.

"Minty." He said. Minty blinked her eyes and glanced up at her friend. "Could you do me a favor?"

"Sure England, whatever you want." Minty said with an adorable tilt of her head.

A scheming smile made its way onto England's face, and it only grew wider and wider as the minutes passed.

"What are your thoughts on teaching children?"

Author's Note:

***3/7/16 Edit: I realized that some parts of this chapter got deleted, and so I fixed that. Thank you dear reviewers who brought that to my attention.*****

So this chapter came a bit later than expected. I hope that this doesn't become a common occurrence for me. I was planning on updating at least once every week, but it's been two weeks since I posted the first chapter. I made this chapter a little longer to make up for it though. Hopefully there won't be another long break between chapters.

I think the last part of this chapter was a bit rushed, but with all things considered I think that this came out pretty well. I did try to avoid any cliches in this part, but I'm not really used to writing Scotland and England. Do you guys think they were too OOC?

Anyway, please read and leave a review. I read every single review I got in the last chapter and it honestly made me so happy to see that people like my writing! It can be as long or as short as you want it, I'd just like to know if you guys like this chapter and are interested in reading more.

Thank you,

Snowy-Maplette