Ever since Voldemort's gradual rise in power, England has had nightmares every time he's closed his eyes. He could see visions of green light and hear the screams. God the screams were so horrible to hear. But he couldn't ignore the screams of his people. He couldn't ignore their lifeless bodies strewn across the ground. Their faces forever in a state of shock, dead eyes set in their skulls.

But this nightmare was different. It was, it was as if he was observing the world through another's body, a body close to the ground. A child?

To the left, a red head woman with beautiful emerald eyes was looking at him on the carpet, an outstretched hand reaching towards him, mouth agape. Dull footsteps turned towards him, black robes gracefully turning at the movement.

He looked up only to see a hand stretching out holding a long slender stick.

Oh God no.

The words he dreaded to hear the most spoke from the robed man and green light blasted at him.

England jolted upright in his bed in a sweat, breathing heavily and eyes wide. He swatted the chair next to him at the same time, the chair landing with a loud THUNK on the marble floor. Did he just experience the death of one of his people? A child's death?

England grabbed his chest but only felt his bare skin and sweat. Looking down and all around, he realized he was in an unfamiliar bedroom that disgustingly reminded him of a French man.

Heavy footsteps came from the other side of the door and upon reaching the room, the door slammed open to reveal America and Canada, both looking terribly tired and terribly worried.

England sighed heavily before speaking, "Please tell me we're not at Fra-"

"Ah he woke up?! About time he did! Taking care of him at my hous-"

America ran up to him and jumped on the bed, "Dude what happened?! I could tell there was something wrong with you when you didn't snap back at me the other day! It was totally obvious! What the hell is going on England?"

France and Canada came to his bedside, France eyeing America with an annoyed look for being interrupted.

"I-" England started but stopped. Should he tell them? England carefully examined them before looking down at his own lap.

The last thing he needed was a conversation about that bastard. Really it was his country so his problem, right?

"Hey England, does this have anything to do with that mass murderer calling himself Voldemort?"

England blinked and looked to France surprised. "How did you-"

"I'm just across the water and news travels fast you know. Especially anything that has to do with magic."

England rubbed his head, "Should've known that."

"Voldemort?" Canada questioned softly, wondering aloud.

"Wait who's that? Why haven't I heard anything about him?!" America asked loudly.

"Not everything has to do with you America!"

"Whoa England calm down! Is it illegal to be worried now? Sheesh!"

England pushed his hair back and leaned against the headboard. He won't be left alone unless he told them huh?

Bloody hell he was not in the mood for this but I'vegot no other choice England thought. He took in a slow breath before speaking.

"Voldemort, the name this bastard goes by," England growled saying the name "is a dark wizard who's been killing anyone anywhere with his lackeys known as Death Eaters. It's been going on since the start of the 70s and its only gotten worse these past few years. The Prophet's been calling this First Wizarding War, bullshit I say. The Ministry hasn't done any serious work to stop this, too coward to fight against him."

The shock was apparent on the brother's faces but France's face was indiscernible.

"But what are you going to do about it?" England glanced at Canada who was first to speak. "Are you no longer communicating with the Ministry?"

"No, after the World War II I cut off ties with the Ministry because the muggles needed more help. Those witches and wizards are fine since they have their magic to clean up messes and repair their world." Canada mouthed an 'oh' at the response.

"Why don't you just get in touch with them again bro? I'm sure having you around the situation would get better." America asked, watching Enngland carefully.

"Supposedly," England started, "this Voldemort is looking for a way to achieve immortality. Imagine myself going to offer help at this time, me, a nation who's more or less immortal?"

"Immortality?" France questioned, "Hell this guy is crazy, if only he knew what it's like to live as long as we do." he finished, shaking his head.

"What the hell, then you can't just go back there!" America exclaimed, "Dude what are you going to do? How ar-"

"But England," Canada's soft voice interrupted, "you look much better now. You're not pale anymore."

The 3 nations examined England and Canada's observation was right, no more pale skin and since he's been sleeping, the bags from his eyes have vanished.

England gave a sort of 'thank you' look to Canada for the change in topic. Canada nodded in response.

England opened his mouth then closed it. He did feel better. No matter how much sleep he had before this, he'd always still wake up feel unrested and sick. His heart, England placed his hand on his heart, his heart wasn't hurting so much now.

England glanced up, "How long have I been sleeping?"

France answered this once, with distaste, "Four days! Do you know what it's like having you 3 idiots in my house for so long?!"

England clenched his teeth; "Well I never wanted to come to your place for the World Meeting anyways frog! Bloody hell I'm getting out of here!"

England through the covers off, knocking America onto the floor, "Wait a minute England! You shouldn't move arou-"

France interjected, "Go get his clothes, Alfred, Mathieu. Now."

America looked at France, mouth agape. Canada nodded and grabbed his brother's upper arm.

"W-Wait a minute Canada!" but his cries were in vain as the Canadian dragged his brother out the door. Turning his head, Canada gave a small smile and closed the door behind them.

France sighed and picked up the fallen chair, placing it next to the bedside and sitting down.

"America's right, what are you going to do?" France's words were serious as he looked at the English man sternly.

England shook his head, "I have no idea but for some reason, my heart doesn't hurt so much now. As if all the murders stopped at once. There was a never break from the pain but now it's gone."

France blinked in surprise. "Really? These past four days you looked to be in terrible pain but, like Mathieu mentioned, you look much better."

"Four days huh? So that means that-"

"Yeah, it's the morning of November 1st. When I came to check on you last night, you looked, relieved." France spoke.

England raised his brows, "Relieved?"

France nodded, his hair swaying with his movement, "Does that mean the killing sprees stopped? Well, for now, at least?"

"I-" he was interrupted from a tak tak tak at the window to his right. Both nations looked to see a muddy brown owl looking at them, a copy of the Daily Prophet in his beak.

"That's your bird right England?"

England nodded and opened the window, letting his bird hop in, drop the rolled up newspaper, and fly out. England grabbed the crumpled paper and unrolled it. As he read the headlines, his mouth dropped in surprise, his forest green eyes widening as he quickly read over the next few lines.

"I think I just found out what stopped him." England muttered under his breath.

"What?" the Frenchman questioned leaning over to see what was on the paper. After he read the headline his mouth too dropped in shock.

"Voldemort has been defeated?! What on Earth, how?" France exclaimed.

"By a kid, a baby named, Harry Potter?" England furrowed his brows after stating this. France's face twisted into confusion.

"How did a baby stop him?"

England kept his eyes on the paper, clutching it tighter in his hand before throwing it on the floor.

"The only way to find out, " he started, pushing himself up, "is to go to his home and find out how."

France looked to him for a moment before shaking his head, a small smile playing on his lips, "I guess there's no stopping you huh? However," France stood up too, "I'll be coming too."

"What the- why?" England asked, "Like hell I'd want you anywhere near me!"

France's smile faltered, anger flashing behind his brilliant blue eyes, "Excuse me do you think you some Death Eaters will be killing you? No that job is for me you moron."

England smiled too eyeing the French man, "You wish you disgusting frog."

But deep, deep, deep down, England was a little (LITTLE)grateful he wouldn't be alone because as much as he hates to admit it, France was right. He shouldn't be alone if by any possible chance there were Death Eaters or, even by some miraculous chance, Voldemort was still alive. All hell would break loose if Voldemort and him crossed paths. Literally.


Author's Notes:

So wow um, here's chapter 2! I hope it sounds decent enough since writing is bit harder for me but doesn't mean I don't enjoy it! But yea this is mainly me wanting a crossover of England in Harry Potter because just think how badly the deaths and everything going on in the magical world affected him so ahah I love Harry Potter so much too so yea.

Thank you for reading and ciao for now~