Arthur Kirkland and the Job

Chapter Seven

England left Hogwarts after lunch more than a little wary of what the rest of his first day would bring. History of Magic, his first class at Hogwarts, had been horrible. He prayed the Care of Magical creatures class would be better. The only bright side in the day so far was that Prussia had been too busy talking to Burbage to bother him. Though how one of his citizens, a sensible intelligent one at that, could like that obnoxious asshole was beyond him.

When England first entered the History of Magic classroom he was a little excited about seeing how the class was being taught nowadays. He hadn't come to the school since his lads were colonies. Back then the Headmistress had been Katherine Brown, there had been four uses for dragon's blood, and England had been on top of the world. England had expected things to be different. In fact he'd counted on it. What he had not counted on was the ghost of the Professor who'd been teaching then to still be teaching now. Cuthbert Binns had died in 1776 and when England had heard the news he had been pleased that now Hogwarts could have a History of Magic teacher who did not constantly go on about Goblin rebellions and who had not been infamous during his life for being the one who killed Magical Historian as a profession. Not that it had been incredibly popular to begin with, but since Binns took the post there had been an average of two or three students taking a History of Magic class as a NEWT level class a year. If England hadn't been distracted after hearing the news for obvious reasons he might have heard about Binns's continued position and if he'd arrived at Hogwarts before yesterday he might have had time to talk with the rest of the staff. As it was when Binns floated through the chalkboard to the screams of the surprised first years England felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

It took ever bit of England's self control not to let loose a torment of curse words building on his tongue as he watched what he'd long considered the worst teacher to ever set foot in Hogwarts halls. The fool ghost was if anything worse than when he was alive. England considered slamming his head repeatedly against the stone walls just so he wouldn't have to listen to this sad excuse for teaching. It was made even worse by the fact that it was his history that the bastard was mangling. He envied the sleeping students even as the sight of them made him more furious. Suddenly the months ahead of him didn't seem so vacation like anymore if he was going to have to be constantly restraining himself from marching into Dumbledore's office to berate him about his teachers.

Please let it be better. Please let the professor be better than that damned ghost. He pleaded, repeating the mantra over and over again as he made his way down to the hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The sky, was a clear, pale grey and the grass was springy and damp from yesterday's rain. England could practically feel the Forest trembling with life at its latest drenching. England could also feel a soft distinct pulsating that signaled fey magic was near. He would have to track down the source, but more than likely it was a fairy circle. If so it would be a wonderful place to celebrate Samhain. England pushed the thought aside for now, tensing as the Gamekeeper's hut, and the students gathered there, came into view.

England got curious looks as he approached and barely suppressed a groan at the sight of the house crests on the student robes. Gryffindor and Slytherin. There was no way this would end on a positive note. And on that uplifting thought he noted three other things. One, Harry Potter was in this class. Two, a slender white-blonde boy who could only be a Malfoy was too. And three, England really should have seen this coming, the girl standing beside Potter was a Granger. Hermione Granger to be exact. Intelligent brown eyes and all. Now England had to fight the urge to run. The Malfoy family had been a bunch of arrogant berks since they came from France and the every time England saw a Granger not only did they always find out he was a nation, something that was supposed to be a secret, but it was always the result of him being fatally injured or, on one memorable occasion, shot in the ass. The way the girl was looking at him told him two things. She had most definitely inherited the Granger intellect and their curiosity. He should have known that after being hit by a car by her father the day she was born and helping name the child he wouldn't be rid of her so easily. He would have to be careful now and he needed to tell Prussia the same.

"C'mon, now, get a move on!" The loud voice called. "Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!"

It was the large shaggy bearded individual, currently in a moleskin overcoat, England had been introduced to as Rubeus Hagrid. There was a large boar hound beside him, fierce looking, but England recognized the look of a sweet dog when he saw one. England pushed passed the students to get beside the man as he led them to a large paddock. The boar hound barked happily at England's arrival and England calmly patted the exuberantly wiggling creature as he came up beside the man.

"Hello Professor Hagrid. Arthur Kirkland, we haven't been formally introduced." England said politely, offering the man his hand. Hagrid looked a little stunned, not moving for a few moments, before England's words seemed to click and he shook England's hand nearly crushing it in his own looking very proud of the new title.

"Good to meet yeh. The Headmaster said yer Grandfather and him was good friends. He's takin' a shine too yeh and any friend of Albus Dumbledore's is a friend of mine." the man said with a wide welcoming smile. Looking into those warm black eyes England realized the boar hound wasn't the only one whose rough exterior hid a sweet soul.

"And who's this admirable fellow?" England asked giving the boar hound another pet. Hagrid gave the hound an affectionate look and his smile went even warmer.

"This ol' dog is Fang. Yeh just watch me the first lesson and if yeh can watch the back of the group I'd appreciate it. They'll be trouble with this mix." Hagrid told him revealing he knew exactly how Gryffindors behaved towards Slytherins and Slytherins treated Gryffindors.

"Of course." England said, and because he knew it seemed to make the man happy. "Professor Hagrid."

England quickly made his way to the back of the group, noting some of the Slytherins hung back and seeing the Malfoy was among them. There was a certain rebellion and disdain in the boy's face that told him that if trouble started he would be at the center of it. The class quickly crowded around Hagrid looking at the empty paddock curiously and, England noted with interest, some wariness.

"Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" Hagrid called. "That's it—make sure yeh can see—now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open ter books—"

"How?" said a cold drawling, voice that, of course, belonged to the Malfoy.

"Eh?" said Hagrid.

"How do we open our books?" the Malfoy asked, revealing one bound with a length of rope. The other students pulled there's out showing several had bound with different means, from belts to binder clippers.

"Hasn'—hasn' anoyone bin able ter open their books?" Hagrid asked looking crestfallen.

A little less than half the class raised their hands, garnering startled looks from the others. Hagrid seem to perk up at that. England decided it had been a good idea to get an updated version of the book. The book store workers certainly had appreciated him teaching them the trick to the books and apparently it had benefited the students.

"All of yeh who do help the ones that don' know how. Yeh've got to stroke 'em." Hagrid informed the class grabbing a sandy haired Irish boy particularly vicious book when it went for his nose and giving it a quick pet with his large finger. It shivered and fell open obediently.

"Oh, how silly we've all been!" the Malfoy jeered. "We should have stroked them! Why didn't we guess!"

Once again the man looked defeated. "I—I thought they were funny."

"Oh, tremendously funny!" the blonde continued further digging his hole. "Really witty, giving us books that try to rip our hands off!"

England quickly moved from his forgotten place in the back and, with a satisfying smack, hit to boy resolutely in the back of the head, causing him to yelp and jump away eyes wide and stunned. England didn't allow his amusement to show at the reaction and kept his face cold and unforgiving. When he spoke it was in his Pirate Captain voice. Terrifying to anyone on the receiving end.

"Ten points from Slytherin for cheeking a professor, Mr. Malfoy." England said in his own, much more intimidating drawl. The boy looked a little paler at the sound of the voice, but apparently had an oddly Gryffindor streak of no self-preservation instincts.

"What?" the Malfoy said indignantly. "You can't take points away. You aren't even a real professor."

"Make it twenty. You'll find I can and will Mr. Malfoy." England informed him coolly. The boy looked furious, but seemed to catch himself, realizing that England would actually do something. England could see the effort it took him to back down with a dark look on his pale face. The Gryffindors were all hiding a smile and the class quickly settled. England gave Hagrid a small supportive smile over the students' heads and the man straightened looking much more confident at having his country, though he didn't know it, in his corner.

"Right then. Yeh've got yer books I'll go get yer Magical Creatures." England barely heard him to busy helping a round faced Gryffindor boy whose book was making a very successful attempt at devouring him. By the time he'd gotten it off the boy's robes had rips in them and England's own were nowhere near as neat as they had been.

"Oooooooh!" a girl's voice squealed and England turned in time to see Hagrid leading in some magnificent Hippogriffs.

"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid called happily, clearly emboldened by the positive response. "Beau'iful, aren't they?"

England couldn't help, but agree having always had a soft spot for these particular creatures. The rest of the class, even the surly Malfoy seemed to agree. Then England realized he should get a bit away from the creatures before they recognized him for what he was. Countries, especially those in tune to magic like himself, Romania, and Norway, had a very odd effect on Magical Creatures and even Magical sites. Hogwarts itself seemed to welcome England after all, its almost sentient magic had almost squeezed him in welcome and just being around it energized in a way he hadn't felt in years.

He moved too late though and the gray Hippogriff spotted him and sent up the call. The others heard him and quickly began struggling against there bounds. England sighed and made his way to the paddock, calmly pulling himself over the fence and approaching the excited animals to the gasps of astonishment of the class. Barely pausing in his walk he gave a deep respectable bow. Without a moment of hesitation the Hippogriffs dropped to their knees and were instantly up allowing England to pet them wiggling like happy puppies.

There was a stunned silence and then Hagrid caught himself, smiling widely.

"See! That's how yeh do it! Who wants to go first?" Hagrid asked looking enthusiastic. The class all shared a look all untied for a moment in their wariness, but then they looked at England and a few stepped out. England wasn't too surprised by Harry Potter, but the others caught his attention. The round faced boy, looking simultaneously terrified and determined, the Malfoy, and a thin weedy Slytherin boy with dark hair. The Slytherins looked at their fellows like they'd gone mad and with a put-upon sigh a well dressed, handsome black boy stepped up beside the Malfoy giving him a look that quite clearly stated he did not want to do this, but the Malfoy had forced his hand. Instantly the gangly red head England had spotted near Harry before and Hermione went to support Harry.

Hagrid was thrilled, but England was a bit more wary and whispered under his breath in the Fey tongue that all animals understood to go easy on the hatchlings. The Hippogriffs gave their approval and England quickly passed the gray one, Buckbeak, Hagrid introduced, to Harry, the black boy, and the Malfoy. To the round faced Gryffindor and the weedy Slytherin he gave the more gentle pinkish roan. The chestnut seemed eager to get to Hermione and the red head, giving them a curious look, mainly because England had betrayed an interest in them and the young Hippogriff was clearly curious as to why a Speaker would care about these particular hatchlings. Then Harry rode the gray one, which quite frankly was a terrifying experience for England, watching him slip and slide down Buckbeak, even if the Hippogriff assured him he'd be careful with him.

The class was eager to get started at the success of their classmates and soon the students were preoccupied with their individual creatures. England almost relaxed as he and Hagrid settled to over look the activities. Eventually Hagrid began introducing the students.

England recognized most of the old names. The Weasleys, whose founder he'd been drinking buddies with. The Browns, a bastardized line of the Blacks. The Patils, an Indian family who'd come during Victoria's time on the throne. The weedy boy turned out to be a Nott, a relatively new family as far as Purebloods went, but with many connections and a wealthy one. And the round faced child was a Longbottom! He'd known Augusta and Neville Sr. before they'd had Frank. Augusta was a battle ax, but it seemed the child, Neville's namesake, took after his more gentle grandfather just as Frank had. The black boy was a Zabini, not too surprising. That expression of flirtatiousness he was wearing next to Daphne Greengrass was something he'd seen on Romano around a pretty girl. The Nott boy, England noticed in the corner of his eye, did not look too happy about this development.

"This is very easy." a familiar voice drawled to England's left and before the boy could finish England was already tensed, sensing impending doom. "I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you? Are you, you great ugly brute?"

England was flying at the boy before he could get past dangerous, but he only just made it in time to push him out of the way of those steely claws. England, though, wasn't so lucky and was caught on the right arm. The blow sent England reeling back and he feel over the sprawled, screaming form of Draco Malfoy causing him to trip and hit his head on the ground.

England saw stars as the pain struggled to catch up with his daze on impact. When it did he lost complete control of his mouth and was letting loose a long and colorful string of curses. There was blood everywhere even though England could tell Buckbeak hadn't gotten him that deep. The screaming of the panic class wasn't helping the struggling Buckbeak, who was both still furious at Draco and wanting to get to England to apologize. Hagrid was struggling to put him up looking very pale. England snapped and stopped his cursing long enough to settle them.

"SHUT UP!" he snarled and there was silence. Seeing the stunned expressions, he pushed himself to a sitting position and examined his wounds frowning. They were bloody, but superficial, they were already stopping, but he did look a mess he could even feel some on his face, no doubt giving him a even more grisly image. Calmly England turned to Buckbeak.

"It is fine, allow Hagrid to put you back, I will heal within the day and I must calm the hatchlings." England told the creature in the fey tongue, which stilled instantly to the surprise of Hagrid, who quickly took advantage and moved him away before rushing back to England's side. When he tried to help the nation up England shook his head and waved his hands away.

"I'm fine." England assured him and the class as he got shakily to his feet, though no one looked convinced at this. "This is hardly the worst wound I've ever received and it looks much worse than it is."

Then England turned to the trouble maker, who seemed to be trying to collect himself, but was still very pale and, England noted, trying desperately to wipe off the bit of England's blood that had gotten on his face. England went cold and unrelenting.

"Thirty points from Slytherin for not listening, screaming like a girl, and endangering your classmates Mr. Malfoy." England snapped, causing the Slytherins to gasp. That would but the Slytherins in the negatives, if that was even possible.

"My father will hear about this!" Draco growled, looking like the petulant child that he was. England was strongly reminded of his sons at their worst, and even then they hadn't been spoiled.

"The day I'm scared of a boy whose only threat is his father's power, not his own, is the day I become a bloody Frog." England snapped and because the child still looked ready to speak he continued. "And detention for threatening a teacher."

The boy's eyes bugged and but Blaise Zabini grabbed his arm in warning, not that Draco needed it. The boy was clearly fuming, but just as clearly defeated. Hagrid quickly dismissed class and to England's protests carried him to the Hospital Wing. As England was getting patched by by the medic witch, who was hissing like an angry goose, he prayed that the rest of the week would turn out better, but he knew that in Hogwarts and being himself that was very unlikely.

...

"Malfoy is pretty lucky Kirkland has quick reflexes." Ron observed as they made their way back up to the common room. Harry nodded, thinking to himself about Professor Kirkland rescuing Hagrid and getting onto Malfoy. He'd looked pretty scary at some points, Harry definitely wouldn't want to get on his bad side, but he'd still taken the hit for Malfoy. Hermione though made a noncommittal hum, her mind clearly elsewhere.

"What is it Hermione?" Harry questioned recognizing the signs that his bushy haired friend was trying to work something out. She jerked as if just now realizing they were there and looked at them with a look in her eye that told him that she'd be holed up in the library soon enough.

"I was wondering about the Hippogriffs reaction and what Professor Kirkland said to them. He's very interesting. Gilbert is too. Professor Burbage and he kept going back and forth during our lesson. It was very stimulating. I wonder how Professor Kirkland and Gilbert know each other." the last part was said to herself, but Harry answered as if it were a question.

"They were friends, apparently Gilbert and Kirkland made some sort of bargain involving working at Hogwarts together. Kirkland was drunk when they agreed. Kirkland tried to ditch Gilbert though, while Gilbert was at his brother's wedding." Harry explained a matter of factly. Both of his friends froze and stared at him.

"How do you know that?" Hermione demanded sharply. Harry smiled sheepishly at the accusing look and disbelief on their faces.

"I overheard them talking when I went to the Hospital Wing." Harry admitted. Ron shook his head and Hermione looked put out.

"And you're just telling us now, mate." Ron said looking a little offended. Harry shrugged to hide his embarrassment.

"It slipped my mind." he said feeling even more sheepish. Hermione's eyes widened and shook her bushy head as if she couldn't quite believe him.

"Slipped your mind." she repeated under her breathe, but before Harry could say anything straightened as if remembering something suddenly. "I'll be at the library. I need to check something."

The two male friends shared a look as she hurried away.

"I give it until Christmas before she knows their life stories." Ron said calmly. Harry grinned.

"You're underestimating her Ron, she'll have it by Halloween at latest."

When Professor Lupin arrived late to the first Defense Against the Dark Arts class England hoped it wasn't a sign. The man had been punctual with the other grade levels and, to England's relief, a very competent and engaging teacher. He and Hagrid, though the man was a little overwhelming in his misguided guilt over the incident with Buckbeak, made it possible to get England through his first week without snapping. History of Magic was starting to wear on him and it was taking all he had in him to keep his head down and his mouth shut. It was pure torture though. And the Prussian was enjoying every second of it. Not only did he keep making references to the Goblin wars every chance he had, but he somehow, God only knew how exactly, convinced the ghost to visit their quarters and the Great hall during the meals to continue "their fascinating discussions on the Goblin Wars." The truth was everyone was suffering and England was quite sure the reason Burbage gave Prussia the day off was so the rest of the staff could figuratively sacrifice England in hopes to appease Prussia and be rid of the ghost professor.

As it was the albino had been following him everywhere today and being a pest the entire time. England was seriously starting to regret the fact he was pretty much immortal and was considering AK-ing himself just to get an hour of peace before he woke. When the class walked in, yet another mixture of Slytherin and Gryffindor, England almost cried. There was no doubt any longer. It was an omen. Today was going to be even more hellish than it already was.

As the class settled Prussia went quiet examining the group with odd interest as they looked back at him, their curiosity piqued by his Muggle clothing. He actually waved and loudly greeted the students from his class with Burbage, all of whom looked embarrassed by the attention. The Slytherins especially looked horrified. Only the surprising Theodore Nott and Hermione Granger kept their cool. Only Hermione actually returned the greeting. As soon as the Slytherins had settled, those Prussia had called out to were interrogated. Theodore looked completely unapologetic and the Zabini boy, Blaise, was being fervently whispered to by his incredibly incredulous looking friend Draco.

Finally Lupin entered and told them they were going to the staffroom. England didn't relaxing already knowing the lesson and knowing this was going to go horribly wrong. Prussia was suspiciously quiet, Slytherins and Gryffindors were together, and England could practically feel the looming disaster.

He was screwed.

And as it usually was before the storm, the situation seemed calm. Lupin began the class quickly absorbing the students attention and even Prussia listened seeming interested, but stopped once they began the practical part.

"What are we doing about the October meeting? You've already missed one." Prussia said, looking oddly thoughtful and interested. England never trusted Prussia when he acted normal, but decided to enjoy it while it lasted. They still needed to discuss some things after all.

"I sent Scotland in my place for September, my boss is in charge of giving the excuses. Other than that I don't care. I told him to keep it on a need to know basis, so he should have told the boys and anyone important. For now I'm enjoying a well deserved vacation." England answered honestly and completely unselfconsciously. The World Meetings never accomplished anything anyway and besides Germany would probably be thankful. As long as England was there France didn't have anyone to argue with, which meant it would be quiet for at least the first thirty minutes it took America and Russia to come up with a believable excuse to try and kill each other. They might actually be able to get at least half a power point in. Besides England was tired, even with Prussia there to annoy him and Binns as a thorn in his side, this was the closest thing to a vacation he'd had in decades. And quite frankly being around so much magic was doing wonders for him. He felt almost back to his old pirate self, without the gold, whores, and kicking Spain's ass.

Prussia nodded seeming to understand where England was coming from and, truthfully, England suspected he would. The conversation relaxed at this and soon they were talking like normal. England slipped in a warning about the Grangers, which amused Prussia to no end, but he did, after laughing, agree to be careful around the girl. Then they fell on a more relevant topic. One England had been curious about, but had the chance to speak of. So he asked. Prussia seemed eager to speak.

He told him all about how Italy and Germany had been celebrating Germany's birthday with a special gift. Their first time. Apparently after Italy had rejected Germany's first proposal, it startled England to realize Germany had even proposed he was so emotionally self-conscious, their relationship had been rocky and Germany had been terrified of putting himself out there. Italy had also been scared of admitting he felt anything more for Germany than that of a friend, because his heart had already been broken once before. England still remembered that cheekily Holy Roman Empire and knew it was a sensitive subject for Prussia. As sensitive as the American Revolution was for him. Eventually though Germany and Italy had grown back together and after some misadventure that involved Italy apparently time traveling and realizing that Germany was in fact Holy Rome (England barely held his "Bloody Hell!" inside at this announcement), some Asian reversion incense that allowed Germany to tap into his old memories, and some more time travel they'd started their current strong romantic relationship. It seemed though, Romano had been unaware of the change, (England suspected even Italy had known better than to mention it to his brother) and when he'd burst in unexpectedly into Germany's house he'd been unprepared for what he'd found.

After a brief struggle, some gun shots, and with Spain's assistance, they tied Romano down and Italy explain over the course of two and a half hours why exactly Romano had to accept his relationship. And finally he had. But he refused to allow them to sleep with each other and had dragged them both to the nearest government establishment where gay marriage was legal and they had a shot gun wedding, Romano having somehow gotten back a hold of his hand gun.

"But Feli says being dragged to the courthouse by your irate brother and his lover isn't romantic enough, so he's planning a big one in the summer. Everyone's invited. And I mean everyone. We'll probably get our invitations in June so get your date ready before hand." Prussia explained trying to keep his normal arrogant smirk on, put a proud beaming grin that matched his glowing eyes and the warmth in his voice kept bursting through. "Being my awesome self I'll e the best man of course."

England was about to say something, watching the classes progress out of the corner of his eye when it happened. Ron Weasley's Boggart slowly began to roll towards Harry Potter and without any other thought than the burning, terrifying image of Voldemort appearing in the middle of a classroom England did the only thing he could.

He shouted, making it focus on him instead.

The chaos that followed happened in slow motion.

At first the Boggart hovered in the air, a formless grey blob, trying its best to find what scared England most. The classroom was speechless, but England was perfectly calm, Occlumency shields, tight and unbreakable, in place. Slowly he raised his wand, but then to his right there was movement, catching the formless clouds attention.

England's mind barely had time to register that he was seeing Prussia, moving foreword with a curious look on his pale face to get a better look at it when it began to change.

It turned into Prussia an exact mirror copy, only horribly wrong. His eyes were dead and he looked listless and completely cold. Their was something horrifyingly pitiful and sad about the dead look the mirror-Prussia had. And then he was falling to dust as if he'd never been.

The real Prussia looked shocked and pale, before he, or England could recover the Boggart was already changing again.

Crack.

Holy Rome dead and bloody on the floor, starring with lifeless accusing blue eyes at the albino.

England's stomach flipped at the sight and he felt more than saw Prussia fall to his knees beside him, England couldn't look away too horrified and shocked trying to process what to do.

Crack.

Nazi Germany, bandaged and crying looking at them all with horror filled, guilt ridden eyes. He drew a gun from his side and readied it. He looked at Prussia right in the face and sobbed. The gun was pressed to his temple too fast for England to see the movement.

"I'm sorry, East." Germany said in a broken voice.

Then he pulled the trigger.

Crack.

The resulting screams snapped England back into motion and he jumped in front of the shivering albino as the Boggart began to morph again. There were things much worse than Voldemort in nations' pasts. Truly horrifying things that would break normal humans. He didn't know what could be worse than what he'd just seen and he didn't want to find out. He only saw a curly hair before the Boggart focused on him. He forced his Occlumency shields back up.

England was too slow. He couldn't close all the cracks before the Boggart latched on.

Crack.

It showed a tall handsome man with blonde hair and matching stubble smiling at England with pride and wonderment, his bright green eyes glowing. And then he suddenly jerked foreword, falling to his knees. The man looked shocked and horrified down at the sword that was through him. It was pulled out from behind and instantly the blood began staining his tunic. He looked up at England betrayal and sorrow deeply etched in the eyes that were mirrored on England's pale face.

"Son." he gasped and for the second time England watched Arthur Pendragon fall.

The class gasped at this but England barely heard it.

Crack.

A woman in a nightgown appeared smiling mischievously at England. She was a tall very slender woman, with a tiny waist, small bosom and beautiful, long fingered hands. Her red curly hair was free and flowing. She had a long, thin face, high cheekbones, and a pointed chin. Her dark eyes glinted under thin, arched brows and over a high hooked nose.

England's insides twisted with a mixture of joy and pain at the sight of the woman he's last seen four hundred and thirty-four years ago on their "wedding night" as she'd dubbed her coronation, claiming that becoming the anointed queen of a country was as good as marrying said country.

"Elizabeth," England breathed, and realized he was shaking at the sight of his beloved queen and wife.

"Hello husband." Elizabeth greeted with a small sweet smile she'd always reserved especially for him.

God, he'd almost forgotten that smile. Then she was falling apart, rotting right before his eyes. England's head spun at the sight and he did the only thing he could manage. Close his eyes against the terrible sight, ashamed and cursing his uselessness hoping Lupin would intervene before this could get worse.

CRACK.

"I hate you!" yelled a familiar voice causing England to open his eyes in pure shock. "You aren't my real father!"

England took a step away from the Boggart-Alfred as if the words were a blow. They felt as much like one as they had when he'd first seen them a little over two centuries ago. The sight of Alfred, so young, so filled with hate made England loose it. Any sense of calm evaporated at the tearing pain the sight, the words, caused.

Suddenly a small figure stepped foreword and shouted.

Crack.

A Dementor appeared and England gained control of himself at the slightly trembling form of Harry Potter as the horrid creature bore down on him. England made his Patronus out of the good things; Elizabeth's smile, Alfred's obnoxious laugh, Canada's sweet stubborn loyalty, last Christmas when all his family had been gathered together, even Hong Kong, and the love he felt radiating off Harry Potter that allowed him to think of all these things. A magnificent lion charged out of his wand and with a roar that caused the room to shriek it forced the Boggart-Dementor into the wardrobe. England used his wand to slam it shut and the moment it was finished his legs gave out sending him to the ground beside a very pale, very shaken Prussia.

It had taken at most five minutes, but England felt like he'd just experienced centuries of his worst memories all over again.

"Miss Granger get Madam Pomfrey, everyone else, class dismissed." Lupin ordered in a calm, soothing voice and before England could blink he was beside them, the class rushing out behind him. Time seemed to pass more quickly than normal, because England swore he'd just blinked and suddenly Madam Pomfrey was there bending over them with a torn serious expression. "Shock." she said seriously, sounding a thousand miles away. "Take them to the Hospital Wing."

The world was tipping.

"Catch him!" a woman screamed.

Black.