Healer Strout had seen both odd and heartbreaking things in her time as a healer at 's, it was part and parcel of working on the psychiatric ward. It was unsurprising that it was hospital policy to let only those of a optimistic and friendly personality train to work here. It wouldn't do to get upset staff. It could get quite upsetting to have your patients forget you from day to day. Strange things happened too; just recently Gilderoy Lockhart had developed a French accent overnight. One of the muggleborn healers who made kept a keen interest in muggle psychiatric medicine after discovering to her shock that here unlike the other regions wizarding medicine was not better than muggle had identified it as Foreign Accent Syndrome. Yet, Strout suspected if was more than that. There seemed to be some glint of memory in his mind that wasn't there normally. He also seemed slightly more, flirtatious than before. Although that said the man had been a bit like that before losing his memory. He was certainly charming, and attractive too.

Yet even so today was rather weird. Dumbledore had asked her to check two students' mental state. That in itself was unusual but not overly out of the way; the Hogwarts nurse wouldn't be qualified for this sort of thing. However Dumbledore wanted her to pass them, whatever she saw. Strout knew Dumbledore was a good man whatever the ministry said. Moreover Dumbledore was wiser than she could ever hope to be. He had saved her family when she'd only just graduated Hogwarts in the last war with Voldemort. So Strout did trust Dumbledore and would do it. After all she thought she was to tell him what did turn up. Someone like Dumbledore would never put students in she waited in her office patiently for the two to arrive.

Strout hadn't been quite sure what she'd been expecting but she wasn't sure the pale haired imposing boy and slighter girl had been it.

"Erm, well, could you take a seat and one of you wait outside"

The girl glared at her in a way that suggested her idea was not welcomed

"I think not, we have no reason to trust you"

Well then, that was hardly provoked.

"I think it is easiest if we do as sister suggested."

Dumbledore hadn't mentioned they were foreign either. Well, Strout was a professional and would go along with it, Dumbledore had asked her to do this after all.

"Well, could you sit down first Mr, um Braginski. Right, ok, you shouldn't feel anything, but you'll have to let me in" Strout prepared herself "Legilmens"

It was like nothing she had ever experienced before. Thought after thought, feeling after feeling, Memory after Memory. It was like seeing the mind of millions all at once and yet not. Some memories even seemed out of time, coming from years long past. If she didn't focus she could see a pattern which seemed somehow unconnected and individual with some thoughts seeming brighter than others. Escape, distrust, concern, pain, cold lots of cold. The mind seemed to become frantic trying to hide something. Compared to everything else this was quite normal, the mind always tried to hide it's worry and guilt. A palace of some sort burning, a group of reddish haired girls in opulent clothing, A family? Blood. Red, lots of red. People being marched off somewhere. Strout couldn't handle it. She fainted.


Russia stared at the healer. That was odd, the Headmaster hadn't told him people fainted after this procedure. Ivan had not liked it, bad memories had resurfaced. Memories Ivan wanted to forget. She might have realised what he was and what he was trying to do. Well, he could always have one of his people make her disappear. Wait, his sister had said this was a book hadn't she, it hardly mattered if a book character discovered something once they had escaped. The women did not seem to be getting up, he guessed that was a bad thing. "

Bela-Natalia" he was supposed to be avoiding annoying her "would you go and get someone, we need someone to check your mind too."

"Of course brother"

When she returned it was with a rather pale-faced man with him. Ivan recognised it as an expression people often had after talking to him. He never had been sure why.

"Don't worry, I make sure Healer Strout is alright, why don't you too go and get refreshments or something. Really, it's fine there's no reason for you to be here."

And so two nations left the room and found themselves in the middle of St. Mungo's mental injuries ward. Neither of the two were particularly hungry and they knew when they had been sent out to get them out of the way. The end result was that they stood there rather at a loss at were to go. Until they heard a rather familiar voice.

"Mais, ma chere, surely you are mistaken? I assure you I am quite well. Perhaps I could take you out for dinner this evening and show you just how well?"

France was here? Well, that was new. France was friendly enough he guessed. If the man didn't understand that groping Natalia was a bad idea then it really wasn't Russia's fault if he got hurt. Mind you, Russia had never really thought France was that bad like that. He'd never tried anything on Ivan. Well, except for those times they were exchanging treaties. Especially in the Napoleonic Wars. The other nation has even got their bosses in on it then.

"Natalia, perhaps we should go and check on France, it would be nice to expand our sphere of influence, yes?"

His sister looked as if she did not think it was a nice idea in the slightest but didn't put up any verbal objection; she must really have cared about becoming closer to him more than he thought. Well, not necessarily more but in a deeper less psychotic way anyway.


The youngish blonde man was to say the least bored. The people here seemed convinced that he was someone (some Englishman!) called Gilderoy Lockhart. Now, admittedly he wasn't sure exactly who he was but he definitely was not English. No, England in his head brought up an image of a not unattractive man but one with no sense of style and terrible eyebrows. He was sure that he was French. Plus, that had been verified by some of those rather nice nurses who had commented on his accent and language. The closest he'd managed to come up with his own name was Francis, now he wasn't sure that was right and it certainly wasn't all of it but it was close at least.

Now he had got some nice fan-mail as Gilderoy and he was fed and looked after by a group of nurses, ready to flirt with but a lot of them didn't seem to like his advances. There was no way he was doing anything wrong so it was obviously because they were English. That chimed in with what memories he had too. However it was so sad to be stuck here with a group of people who would not admit that he was in fact not who they claimed they were.

"France?"

Thank goodness someone speaking his own beautiful language. But France? France was a country not a person. Francis turned to look at the speaker.

A tall and slightly chunky but still attractive pale blonde haired boy stood next to his bed along with a beautiful, of the refined type, platinum blonde girl. He would not mind visitors like this. The two seemed rather familiar to him and he could almost remember things with them, although they were…odd things but something seemed off about them. Their eyes were not the fascinating and rare violet he thought he remembered.

He replied to them in the same language, his language his mind said.

"It is nice to have such lovely visitors and one's who speak my own language as well not that idiot roast beef one. But, I must ask you, France?"

"You do not remember yet. That is a pity. I will have to remind you. I am Russia and this is my younger sister Belarus"

Now, he remembered they were Nations, all of them. The boy was Russia, a one time ally of his whom he had fought in the past and really did not want to fight again. It was so sad that the other's mental state was slightly…unhinged. Francis had rather liked the other before. He made a slightly less safe lover now. The girl, Belarus, he had had less contact with but at World Conferences she had seemed to fail to appreciate his beauty. Of course that meant that he was France. France. Yes, France, The French Republic, France, Gaul. The memories washed over him, being invaded (too many, far too many times, Rome, England, Germany, even Spain). Invading others, the various duchies and small countries bordering, the Holy Land in the crusades, Denmark, Corsica, Egypt, Portugal, Russia, He flinched and looked at the boy standing at his bed, that had not gone well, Vietnam, various colonies. There was so much war. He had stabbed friends in the back and been stabbed in the back. He had even attacked himself; the Revolution, he could understand how that could turn a country mad.

"You remember" Smiled Russia

"Yes, but why am I here? Where are my…" He did not want to say friends and alienate Russia "If I have lost my memory where are the others?
England should be here surely? We've just signed a defence pact.
And Canada, where is he? Having a period of forgetting what I did for him again?
And Germany, does everything we've done together mean nothing to him?
Or Spain?
Or Prussia"

At this point Belarus spoke

"Brother being here should be enough for you."

Russia interjected "Little Prussia does not know you are here. He keeps running away from me. As for the others we have not seen them. We do not know why we are here"

"Actually, I came here after Brother. Why we are here though, we don't know"

Suddenly a Healer came in looking flustered.

"Oh, there you too are; we've been looking everywhere for you. I'm sorry if they interrupting you Mr Lockhart"

The English sounded odd after speaking French. However before France could say it was no problem. He had rushed the other two out muttering something about tests and mad healers and Dumbledore.

Well, that had been enlightening. Now, France just needed to break out of here.


Severus Snape stood there looking at the utterly unrepentant (not) Draco Malfoy sprawled over his chair.

"What on Earth did you think you were doing out there?"

"Educating them"

"Educating them? I've always had my suspicions about your intelligence but today you have proved that you really are a dunderhead. If this is supposed to be tactic to throw people off discovering your mission, you have really gone too far."

"Mission" The boy looked at him blankly.

"Yes, mission, do you have the memory of a goldfish boy?
And drop that stupid accent"

"Look." The boy replied "I'm sorry, but I'm not Draco Malfoy. For all you're acting like you're the Dark Lord most loyal follower I don't think you are so I'll tell you. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt. Potter, Granger and I aren't Potter, Granger and Malfoy. We don't know why we're here, this isn't our world, but we're going to get back and leave this place so it's story flows on like it should."

Severus stared at the boy. Did he really think that he would fall for that spiel of rubbish? However…there were parts of it, that rang true. It would certainly explain a lot. Unfortunately it rather pushed Dumbledore's plans as idiotic as Severus thought they were in utmost danger. Also Severus would rather not die because some spoiled teenage boy decided to make it had for him to fulfil an oath. Yet, there was a more pressing issue at hand.

"You said that I am not a loyal follower of the Dark Lord, on what do you base that assumption?"

If some teenager could see though his disguise, them he had a rather large problem.

"Kesesese, you're worried the Dark Lord will?

Na, I wouldn't worry he's isn't as awesome as me."

The boy seemed to sober up a bit.

"I might not look it but I've been though wars and due to some other parts of who I am I sort of have a sixth sense for this type of thing. West never really developed it but I was good at picking out traitors and spies, hundreds of years of experience count for something."

Hundreds? Snape wasn't even going to ask. It was clear the boy was predisposed to hyperbole.

"Well supposing I accept your hypothesis for what is going on what exactly do you plan to do after alienating most of Slytherin?"

"Well, I've heard you're my Head of House so surely that's your issue?"

Severus glared at the boy.

"I've been staying in the Room of Requirements. I'll stay there."

"Very well, Mr Beilschmidt you may go. I will be talking to you later though."

Severus mentally groaned. He was going to have to talk to Dumbledore wasn't he.

A/N: Sorry this has taken so long. The next chapter should be up much quicker. And yes, France thinks like that. In other news, I've been ill and the school appears to be sabotaging my UCAS by not sending it off.

Also if anyone can think of someone for Poland to be please tell me J