A/N- Sorry for the long absence. I was supposed to upload this a few weeks, but... I got hooked onto the BBC's Sherlock (re-watched it four times already and it was just... ASDFGHJKL. GO WATCH IT NOW IF YOU HAVEN'T.)and someone else also introduced me to the wonders of the place we call Tumblr.

It wasn't until I finished gross sobbing over the ending of Sherlock and trolling Tumblr for random GIFs that I finally realised I had a new chapter to type in. So yeah, sue me, I just entered another fandom. To make up for my long hiatus, have a extra long chapter. /hides under a rock.

Thank you so much for reaching 150 reviews in eight chapters! I never expected this crossover of mine to be so popular! The response is really encouraging me to write more and improve my writing skills! ^^

Beta'd version will be uploaded as soon as my beta reader is done with it!


Chapter 9- Enter the American

I must not tell lies.

The words carved themselves into Harry's hand. However, not a single sound of pain escaped from Harry's lips during the entire process. He sat at the desk that had been provided for him, his teeth gritted in concentration, determined not to give Umbridge the satisfaction of knowing that he was in pain.

At her own desk, Umbridge silently laid down the quill that she was using to write a letter onto a silver tray delicately, the silver rings on her stubby fingers flashing ominously. "Come here." she said softly to Harry, her voice humming with pleasure at Harry's unspoken discomfort.

Harry pushed back his chair and got up, making his way to Umbridge. Hatred at the woman was bubbling away in his head, causing a headache to build up in himself. Said hated woman took his bleeding hand, looked at it briefly and let out a 'Hmm.'

"It looks as though you have a long way to go, Mr. Potter." said Umbridge sweetly, a sickly smile on her wide face. "I will be seeing you again tomorrow then. Good night, Mr. Potter."

"Good night, professor." said Harry curtly and walked out of Umbridge's office, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He strode back to Gryffindor tower as he cradle his injured hand with his handkerchief, the white cloth slowly getting stained red.

The Fat Lady wasn't very pleased when Harry woke her up from her slumber, but nonetheless she let him in, albeit a little grumpily when he uttered the password. In the common room, he could see Ron's silhouette against the soft golden glow from the flames dancing in the fireplace. Sitting next to him on the floor with her legs crossed, various books and pieces of paper scattered around her was Hermione, her face pulled down into a frown as she read the parchment in her hand, Crookshanks purring contentedly in her lap.

Ron noticed Harry almost immediately. "You're back!" said he excitedly. "What did that old hag make you do for detention?"

Harry quickly shoved his bleeding right hand into the pocket of his robe. "Just some regular lines." he said a little too quickly, settling himself down next to a still deep-in-thought Hermione. "Speaking of which, where were you this whole afternoon, Hermione? All the professors were looking for you."

Hermione finally seemed to notice Harry sitting next to her. She rolled up the parchment she was reading and fully faced Harry. "I was in the library looking up old wizarding and Muggle history books." There was a slightly smug edge to her tone of voice, indicating that she knew something interesting Harry didn't. "I found quite a lot of... unusual things in the books."

Ron rolled his eyes at Hermione's sentence. "Hermione, I've been asking you about it for the past one hour and you've told me nothing at all."

"That's because I was waiting for Harry to come out of detention, Ron." shot back Hermione.

"All right, what did you find Hermione?" Harry quickly interjected stop Hermione and Ron from glaring at each other. His attempt worked. Hermione glanced away from Ron and instantly went for a roll of parchment lying on the floor next to her. She unravelled it and cleared her throat. But before she could speak, Ron butted in again.

"Is this about Professor Kirkland?" he asked. Upon seeing the look on Hermione's face, he hastily added. "Do continue, Hermione."

Hermione ignored Ron and read out loud from her parchment. "I went through plenty of books in the history section, and I found a few articles and photographs from some of the older books that were... intriguing to say the least. Here," She paused and picked up a thick leather bound book from the pile of books towering next to her. "This book chronicles the lives of the royal Muggle family of Great Britain, right back to the very beginning. And if you look here..." Hermione quickly flipped to a page that she had bookmarked before silently pressing the book into Harry's hands, her index finger pointing at a picture on the page. "Look."

Harry took one glance at the picture and nearly choked. It was an unsmiling Professor Kirkland in the picture, wearing what looked like a military uniform and standing next to a smiling woman who was dressed in a beautiful gown. The caption underneath the picture read: "Her Majesty and her long-standing advisor, Arthur Kirkland. Taken at Buckingham Palace in the summer of 1954.".

Slowly, after digesting the information, Harry looked up at Hermione. His mouth had gone dry. "Nineteen fifty-four? B-but that's almost half a century ago...! How...?"

"Maybe that's his father?" Ron chipped in, not making eye contact with Hermione.

"And they have the same exact name and looks now, do they?" Hermione retorted. "Look here, there's another bookmarked page..." Hermione hastily turned the pages to the page she had bookmarked. "Read that passage. Yeah, that one under the title."

Harry read the passage out loud. It was pretty simple: ' "The advisers for Her Majesty, Queen Victoria are as listed below: Joseph Brown, Michael Carter, Arthur Kirkland..."' Harry's voice trailed off. "Why is Professor Kirkland's name in here again?" His heart was pounding faster and faster. What was going on?

While Harry had been reading out loud that passage, Hermione had picked up another book. The book in particular was thin, and was most likely handwritten too, judging by the faded title scrawled in black ink on the front cover. "This is the journal of a wizard who lived way back in the sixteenth century. He didn't record his name down in here, so I don't know much about him, except that he was a wizard who really loved the sea and spent a lot of time hanging around the sea-faring Muggles. In this journal of his, he recorded almost everything that had happened to him during the many years he spent with Muggles. And in a few entries, he recorded quite a bit about a certain captain of a pirate ship who terrorised many Muggles that eked out a living as sea-faring folks. According to this nameless wizard, the same pirate was strangely spotted again and again over the span of about fifty to sixty years. He also noted this..."

Here, Hermione flipped the journal open, found the page that she wanted and started reading from a passage that she had marked. "'The man came by again today. This time, he was more aggressive than usual. He and his crew burned the few Spanish ships that were trading in port with the townsfolk. I myself have encountered this particular Muggle only once when I have had the misfortune of boarding a passenger ship which caught his whimsical fancy. From the distance of my home I observed him today, noting the fact that he has aged very gracefully for someone who is supposed to be almost eighty years old, if my calculations from the time when I first met him on the high seas are anything to go by. He looked exactly the same as he did back then, long golden hair and eyes the colour of my native land, Ireland. It wasn't only until today did I get to learn of his name from a poor Spanish Muggle trader whose ship was burnt to cinders. His name is Arthur.'" Hermione stopped reading at that part, a small frown on her face. "This was the final entry of the unknown wizard before he stopped. Maybe he died? Anyway, this journal was sent to Hogwarts for safekeeping and by the looks of it, no one really looked thoroughly through it."

"So what does a fancy pirate story have to do with finding information about Professor Kirkland?" asked Ron as he leaned forward in his cushy seat. "Other than the fact that the seemingly ageless pirate in the journal and Professor Kirkland share the same first name and similar physical features, their personalities are polar opposites. One's a pirate in the sixteenth century, the other is a respectable professor. And face it, blonde hair and green eyes are not exactly the most uncommon physical features around here."

"Don't you get it, Ron?" said Hermione excitedly, slamming the flimsy journal shut. "Professor Kirkland's name cropped up all over the place in books which were all set in different time periods! What's to say this pirate in the unknown wizard's journal isn't him either?"

Ron fell silent, failing to come up with a valid argument to Hermione's.

Harry yawned. His eyelids were starting to drop. "Is this all you got after spending one whole day in the library?" he asked.

"I had to go through countless books in the history section before I even found anything plausible." admitted Hermione. "I was searching randomly too, not knowing if I'd strike the jackpot." She looked hopefully at Harry. "Unless you want to help out...?"

"Uh..." Harry tried to look elsewhere and not at Hermione's hopeful face. "I don't know... I have a lot of homework and Quidditch practice too..."

Hermione's face fell. "Oh...Okay, I understand." She snatched up a piece of parchment from the ground next to her, took up a quill sitting in its ink pot near Crookshanks and started crossing out the words written on it furiously.

"What's that?" asked Ron curiously, craning his neck to get a better view of the parchment.

"It's a list of what Professor Kirkland might be." said Hermione matter-of-factly. "So far, I've eliminated werewolf, faerie, ghost and half-human... how about ..."

Harry couldn't help but wonder why faerie was even on Hermione's list in the first place.

Ron yawned and stretched out his arms. "I'll leave you to your research then, Hermione." he said sleepily. "I'm really tired now and I need some extra energy tomorrow..."

"What for?" enquired Hermione, her eyes narrowing over the parchment, the quill in her right hand quivering slightly.

Ron hesitated, his eyes shifty. "Uh... prefect duties?" he lamely answered. Before Hermione and Harry could drill him for any further information, Ron had shot up the staircase leading to the boys dormitory like a rocket from its launcher.

Harry turned to stare at Hermione. "What was that all about?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head. "He was dozing off in the sofa when I came back from the library about an hour ago. Maybe he's really tired."

Harry crouched down and picked up another book next to Hermione, flicking through its pages aimlessly. After a few minutes of quiet which was occasionally punctuated by the flames in the fireplace crackling, Harry spoke. "Do you really think that the pirate in that journal was Professor Kirkland?"

Hermione sighed and rubbed her face. Harry didn't notice it before, but her face was also drawn out and pale, as if she hadn't been getting enough sleep lately. "I don't know, Harry. I don't even know why I'm doing this in the first place. I mean..." she trailed off. "We have more important stuff to do but yet..." A yawn came, and she tried to suppress it.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I think you need to get to bed now, Hermione. Late nighters aren't doing you any good."

"Yeah, you're right." said Hermione sleepily. She stood up from the floor and started gathering the various books and parchments scattered all around her. "Night, Harry. See you tomorrow."

"Night, Hermione." automatically replied Harry.

After Hermione had made her way up to her own bed, Harry flopped onto the sofa which had been previously occupied by Ron. He was so tired, and his throbbing hand wasn't helping either.

Harry's eyes closed and pretty soon, his snores were echoing within the empty Gryffindor common room.


An ocean away from Britain, America was bored.

He was sitting at his desk, spinning a pen between his fingers. Behind him, sitting cross legged on his bed was Tony, who was tapping away at his PSP playing some game called Gakuen Hetalia that Japan had made. (Come to think of it, how did Tony know Japanese?)

In the past few days, America's mood had taken a nosedive. It'd been quite a while since he'd last heard from England, and America was getting desperate. What if England had gotten his head bitten off by some stray magical creature? (America now had no choice but to accept that those 'magical' creatures of England's was real, seeing as he had taken up a job teaching about them, and he couldn't exactly be teaching thin air to students right? Right?). Or... was England purposely not replying to him? America had sent plenty of letters to the stuffy Brit, but no reply had come back to him. Nothing at all. It was as if this magical school of England's was a black hole, from which letters sent were never replied.

America nibbled on the tip of his pen, his eyes fixed on one particular dark patch on the wooden desk. He wanted so badly to know if England was fine! Sure, England always lectured him about being reckless but he always was one to talk, and America knew it. Therefore, this left America only one option, since England wasn't replying his letters: Go directly to see England!

America turned to face Tony, who was still fixated on the screen of the PSP. "Do you think that I should go to Scotland's place and see if England is doing okay, Tony? Scotland did say that this Hogwarts school was at his place..." He bit his lower lip, pondering the option. "I know he'll get pissed at me, but still..."

Tony didn't even bother looking up at its owner. "If whatever you're gonna do is gonna make that f***king limey pissed, do it." it said monotonously before resuming its gaming.''

America instantly brightened up. "Yeah, that's a cool idea! OK, Tony, I'm going to be away for a while! You look after the house, 'kay?" As America spoke, he leapt out of his chair, pulled out a small duffel bag from under his bed ("Geroff, Tony! I need to get my bag!". "F*** you.") and started to throw in various piece of clothing, creating a mountain of mess in his room as he pulled out all kinds of clothes from his wardrobe.

After packing the bag, America grabbed the cellphone lying on his desk and dialled in a specific number. After waiting a few beeps, he heard the click. "Yo, Scotland! Yeah, it's me, America... no, no, no, NO DON'T HANG UP! I totally need your help! Like, right now! I'm gonna catch a flight to... what was your capital again? Edinburgh? Yeah, that place! Listen, I need your help getting me into that magical school of yours where England is teaching... You can help me? ….uh-huh, I'll be right over, dude!" America broke off the connection and stuffed his cellphone into the pocket of his jeans.

America wrenched opened his bedroom door and ran down the staircase, taking three steps at the time. "I'm counting on you to take care of the house Tony!" he called out as he unlocked the front door. A sudden blast of sunlight came in, making America squint slightly. "Don't blow up anything while I'm gone, okay?" With that, he ran out of the house and slammed the front door, causing some plaster to fall down from the ceiling.

Tony merely stared wordlessly as its owner went out of the house like a whirlwind. After the front door had shut, Tony switched off the PSP and went down to the kitchen. It was hungry. Some fried eggs and bacon sounded good.

Now all it needed to do was to break out that new blowtorch to cook the breakfast.


England woke up early in the morning to complete his letter to Scotland. It was still dark when he started writing and by the time he'd completed the letter and sealed it up, the sun was starting to rise over the lake, its first rays of light shining in softly through the window in his room, illuminating the entire room with a golden light.

Letter tucked in his pocket, England slipped out of his room. He glanced right and left, checking to see if the coast was clear. Satisfied, he started walking towards the Owlery, his footsteps echoing around the still hollow corridors as the occupants of Hogwarts started to wake up slowly, one by one.

England was almost halfway to the Owlery when he encountered the last thing he would ever want to have an encounter with early in the day: Peeves the poltergeist.

Naturally, England had known right from the beginning that Peeves was just another word to say 'trouble'. He just didn't know how much trouble he was until a water balloon fell down in front of him. The balloon promptly burst and wetted the marble floor, causing England to jump back or risk skidding on the wet floor.

Peeves cackled with mirth as he looked at the furious England. "Top of the morning to you, professor~" said Peeves in an irritating sing-song voice. "Going somewhere?"

England brushed a few droplets of water off his his shirt. "Go. Away." he snapped in his infamous pirate voice that had in the past, made many men tougher than him tremble in fear. "I can perform a perfect exorcism on you in ten seconds and you'll never be able to go around the school pulling pranks ever again."

Peeves stared, "You're a Muggle, professor~" he said, albeit a little hesitantly. "You can't do magic, can you?"

One of England's bushy eyebrows rose in a way that clearly meant "Try me.".

Peeves, irritating as he may be sometimes, got the message. He stared at the professor before him, his eyes narrowed. Peeves was only scared of the Bloody Baron and no-one else, but this human was pretty convincing too. He then wisely decided that now was a good time to start disturbing Filch instead.

As Peeves zoomed off, he decided to tip the bust of Paracelsus sitting on the top of the cupboard onto the professor's head. That'll teach him to threaten to exorcise him!

England gave a yell of surprise as he saw the marble bust tip over the top of the cupboard, He skipped out of the way just in time as the bust smashed onto the spot where he had stood only a few seconds ago.

"PEEVES!" roared England angrily, but the poltergeist had already flown away, his mad cackles taunting England even more. England stood motionless for a moment, mentally shaking his fist at Peeves before proceeding to the Owlery.

As England opened the heavy wooden door to the Owlery, the thousands of owls roosting on the wooden rafters hooted, their beady eyes fixated on England. Many of the owls flapped their wings excitedly, countless feathers scattering all over the floor. England clicked his tongue softly to calm the owls. Many animals were much more sensitive than humans, and a lot of them reacted excitedly around him. They could somehow sense he wasn't human and were naturally drawn to him. Maybe he reminded them of their own homeland, or the place they were born as younglings.

England managed to coax down a white snowy owl from the wooden rafters using a series of clicks and hoots. She was a real beauty, her snow white feathers standing out among the rest of the owls in the Owlery.

"I wonder who's your owner, girl." said England soothingly as he tied Scotland's letter to the owl's outstretched leg. "He must be one lucky chap to have such a beautiful pet."

The owl nipped England gently on the hand before spreading out her wings. After England had finished tying the letter, he spoke in a low voice. "I know there's no recipient written on the outside of the letter, but it's for Scotland. You know who he is, don't you? Now, off you go girl!" With that, England threw the owl into the air and she took off, exiting the Owlery through a small window in the roof, her wings beating steadily.


Ron and Hermione were already eating their breakfast when Harry arrived.

"Good morning, Harry." said Hermione and nodded at Harry as she turned the pages of The Daily Prophet.

Harry seated himself and started piling toast onto his plate. "Anything in The Daily Prophet today?" he managed to say through a mouthful of toast.

"No." said Hermione as she folded up the newspaper. "Just the regular nonsense about Dumbledore, and some article about how Fudge keeps going on about the Secrecy Act."

Ron snorted into his goblet of pumpkin juice.


At the Slytherins' table, Draco Malfoy's eagle owl had dropped a letter into his bowl of cereal. Eagerly, Malfoy tore the envelope open, his eyes scanning the contents of the letter.

The letter was from his father. It was quite lengthy, but still managed to be very informative without being long-winded, which was something Malfoy really hated.

Draco,

It has also come to my attention that this new Muggle professor recruited by Albus Dumbledore requires deeper attention. I have alerted Cornelius Fudge regarding this matter and he is at this very moment attempting to dig out verifiable information on this Arthur England Kirkland. Fudge's Senior Undersecretary, a very delightful woman by the name of Dolores Umbridge (who is currently stationed at Hogwarts as the professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts) has also pledged to continue to observe him for a while. You'll be pleased to know that Fudge and I are planning to visit Hogwarts today to speak to the staff regarding some changes to the way the school will be run in the future. This will also give us the opportunity to see this so-called Muggle professor, and to verify if he is up to scratch in his lessons.

Enclosed below is some information on Arthur E. Kirkland that Fudge has managed to find after going through some old official top secret documents regarding the Ministry of Magic's relationship with the filthy Muggle government. Do note that some parts of the documents are indecipherable as it is very old, and that some parts have also been purposefully erased by an unknown individual for reasons equally unknown to us.

Official/Human name: Arthur Kirkland

Real name: The United (erased) at official world meetings, known as En-(erased)

Relationship status: Three brothers, one sister. Brothers include Scott Kirkland, also known as Scot-(erased), Ire-(erased) and Eric Kirkland, mentor to several (erased) -Williams, known as Canada, Alfred F. J- (erased), in a love-hate relationship with Fr-(erased)

That was all the information we could scrounge from the old documents without spoiling them altogether.

Additionally, Fudge and his office are trying to figure out how old this Arthur Kirkland really is. From Dolores' reports, he is a typical twenty-three year old human male. However, the documents I have just enclosed is dated and written back in the 1960s.

I will get back to you with more tangible information concerning Professor Arthur E. Kirkland.

Lucius Malfoy.