/AN/ I started this chapter on vacation, but I was a lot more busy than I thought I'd be (I write this on my email so it's not only in Microsoft on my home computer) and the Internet was being mean and it wouldn't let me write most of the time anyway. T-T So I got home and then I only had a few days where I was busy getting ready for school and BOOM summer vacation was over. And my world history teacher, of all the teachers it could've been, doesn't seem to like me... Oh well, maybe she'll get over it! The point is- I'm really really extra super sorry that I took forever then gave you a short chapter but don't blame me, blame my school! And hotel internet service! Anyway, the chapter!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Hetalia.
England's POV (On Halloween Night)
England clenched his teeth and slammed the book in his hands onto his desk.
It made sense, but he wanted to be missing something- he wanted to be wrong.
He lifted some of the books from a chair, put them back on the bookshelf carefully, and then fell into the chair with an exasperated sigh.
A single lamp stood next to the chair, and the moonlight flooded in through the window. Papers with notes scrawled on them lay about the room along with about thirty books, and in the center of it all on the British nation's desk lay his letter from Rowena.
All the charms he had cast, all the trouble he had gone through to get into Hogwarts and hide the stone when it was safe, wasted because she had failed to keep it from everyone.
"I thought your house was supposed to be for the clever, Rowena." Arthur grumbled, knowing very well that she was long dead and wasn't around to hear him scold her, so he sighed and decided that if she had already messed up it couldn't be changed.
The annoyed Brit stood and brushed Rowena's letter of his desk and onto the floor, wondering why it hadn't been thrown out, though he was lucky it hadn't been.
"What the hell can I do about this?" He asked himself out loud, half hoping for an answer.
He wondered if anyone else knew that there were two stones, or where Nicholas Flamel had gotten the idea- from the people who had stolen Rowena's secret and tried to copy it. Then Nicholas had decided to announce it to the world when he made one. Then he realized- of course they did. That was why there was a problem.
Then he pushed away that problem to deal with whether or not to tell America and Canada. If he told them, they'd definitely go looking for the stones, and if they found the entrance to the stone England had hidden... He had tried to make it almost impossible to get through, and it wasn't going to be easy for two first years. Of course if he didn't tell them and they stumbled upon the entrance to Rowena's stone or investigated three headed dog guarding Nicholas's stone and passed it, they wouldn't be prepared.
England made his decision and pulled a sheet of parchment from his open drawer.
He would tell them, because of they didn't get through them both, someone else would, and he had a feeling there wouldn't be a pleasant result.
Alfred's POV
America had been waiting for another letter after the howler that actually replied to what he had said. He was getting more and more curious as to what was going on, and he couldn't stand it.
He had honestly hoped for a second letter the day the howler came, but it didn't come.
He had wanted to talk to his brother about it, but Matthew had been acting strangely and he wouldn't tell Alfred why.
The nation didn't think it would be a good idea to tell Harry, Ron, and Hermione about the reply or that the nurse had been acting strange until her trip because he wasn't convinced it would be very safe to get them involved.
America ran this all over in his mind as he played with the contents of his hamburger, taking it apart and putting it together, tearing apart his lettuce, and so on.
Then Canada came into the Great Hall, (America hadn't noticed he was missing) and without a word he pulled him up by his arm and dragged him out of the Great Hall, earning some odd looks.
"Mattie? Dude, what're you doing?" Alfred asked loudly, but the Canadian said nothing until he had successfully dragged his confused brother all the way to their dorm in the Gryffindor tower.
When Canada turned, America saw fear and confusion in his eyes, and it looked like he might cry. His left arm was also hanging at his side, and it definitely didn't look like it had just been treated by an extremely well-trained nurse less than a week ago.
The miserable-looking nation stared at his brother panting for a while, and Alfred waited for his brother to begin talking, wondering what he would say. He hoped he would hear an explanation as to why his arm looked broken again, and the reason that he looked so afraid of something.
"Alfred- My… my arm started hurting again-…A while ago…" He panted, straightening finally. "But it didn't hurt enough-…to bother anyone with it… so I left it alone and avoided using it." He explained, and America listened intently.
"Now it looks a lot worse than something that you wouldn't tell anyone about." America pointed out, nodded to the northern nation's limp arm.
Canada nodded and continued. "It is. It slowly got worse, until it hurt about as bad as when Goyle first broke it. Even some of the cuts and bruises I got reappeared." When Canada said this, he did notice a bruise on his brother's neck accompanied by a cut on the cheek. "Today I decided I'd go to Madam Pomfrey and have her look at it again, to see if she made a simple mistake or to see if I did something to ruin what she fixed, but… I hadn't. It didn't show any evidence of being fixed in the first place. But there was a perfectly good explanation as to why it didn't."
America's eyes were wide. He was shocked- and confused. He had been just fine, Madam Pomfrey had even let him go a bit earlier than he expected. All of his cuts and bruises, his broken arm, even the grass stains in his robes and dirt on his face, had been gone.
"What perfectly good explanation? How could there be a perfectly good explanation for that?" America asked.
"She never treated me. According to her, she hadn't gone on two trips- only one. And since she left the first time, she says she hasn't been here." Canada said. He rubbed his arm gingerly, waiting for a response.
America was about to be surprised when he realized- He had known all along it hadn't been her. But who had it been?
"Have you told anyone?" America asked, trying to calm down.
"Only you." Canada replied, a look of relief flashing across his face when America took the problem seriously.
Alfred stared out the widow thoughtfully, trying to decide how to react to the situation. They couldn't ignore it, and there was little they could do to take action. And nothing they could do that wouldn't attract attention.
They were stuck, but he was the hero. Heroes could always save the day in the end- right?
Canada's POV
Canada couldn't help but be pleased with how focused Alfred was. He seemed to really be thinking over the problem like the Canadian had hoped he would, he needed help to figure out the situation.
Not that he hadn't tried to deal with the problem on his own, there just weren't any ways Matthew could think of that would explain what was going on.
He figured he could try and get a sample of the potion the fake Madame Pomfrey had been drinking to make sure it was really medicine, but A: He wouldn't be able to tell if it wasn't medicine. B: He would look suspicious going through bottles and cauldrons that might have leftover drops of the potion and C: There was a pretty good chance it was no longer there.
He had come up with several other ideas, but they all had major downfalls and lots of reasons why they wouldn't work. He didn't give up, though. He wanted answers badly.
Canada's Flashback POV (That morning…)
Canada had tried to ignore his arm, but it stung with a horrible pain, and it made him dizzy. In fact, he felt about as great as he did when he was first launched across the field like a missile.
When he and America were about to go to breakfast he got a sudden headache, accompanied by a burning pain in his left arm. So when America left, he just stayed behind. (He wasn't sure whether to be pleased or insulted when Alfred didn't realize that Canada hadn't followed him)
He tried lying on his bed and resting, but eventually he got up and staggered to the Hospital Wing desperately. Normally he was scared to even pass the Hospital Wing on the way to class, but he didn't care anymore. He wanted his arm fixed and he wanted all the other pain to just go away.
Once he got inside he realized he must've looked as bad as he felt, because Madam Pomfrey immediately rushed over to him.
"What's wrong with you, boy?" she demanded, but Canada just let out a pained cough and fell onto the nearest bed, about to faint. He had been right- he felt exactly like when he had first been thrown.
Madam Pomfrey looked at him in surprise and then pulled out her wand. It glowed a soft green and she slowly waved it over him. He felt numb, which felt odd, even though it made his stinging pain fade.
"Broken arm, twisted ankle, bruised neck…" She started listing, and Canada shut his eyes and tried to rest. He couldn't help but notice that Madam Pomfrey seemed to be much more kind and calm then she had before she had come back the second time she left after her first vacation.
"This looks like it's been here for a while, why didn't you come to me for it!?" She snapped, making a pen and notepad float from her desk to in front of her. Then she began writing notes on the paper. (Or at least the pen was writing things,)
"I did… not too long ago, actually" He answered, opening his eyes to see how Madam Pomfrey would respond.
She looked at him with surprise, let the pad of paper and pen fall to the ground and then ran to her desk and began going through notebooks and pieces of scattered paper.
"It doesn't say you've been here for the injuries you have. In fact, according to this, you haven't been to the hospital wing once this year." She told him, looking at him with confusion.
Canada let this sink in. His suspicions had been correct. That hadn't been Madam Pomfrey, so who…?
The northern nation pushed himself off of the bed and clumsily began running to the door after straightening his glasses. He ignored that the numbness had faded and he was beginning to feel pain again and he reached the door.
"I, er, have to do something, I'll be right back!" Matthew called, pulling open the doors.
Madam Pomfrey glared at him and swiftly walked forward. "You'll be doing nothing of the sort! You need to stay here and rest, I'm sure it can wait!"
Matthew hated to defy a teacher, especially after England had warned them to stay inconspicuous. But that had been before he had found out that someone had impersonated the school nurse, and he wasn't about to just lie around and wait for things to unfold.
"No, it can't. I'll be right back, I promise! Please let me go." He insisted.
"You'll make your injuries worse!" She warned, but it was obvious that she was shocked at his determination and starting to crack.
"I'll be extra careful! And I'll be back before you know it!" He said, already stepping out the door.
Madame Pomfrey glared. "Fifteen minutes. I'll be counting. Come a second late or come with a new injury and you'll be cleaning the entire hospital wing the second you can use that left arm of yours."
Matthew smiled gratefully and turned. On his way down the hall he heard her say, "Foolish boy." but he tried to ignore it as he continued to race down the hallway to his brother in the Great Hall.
America's POV (later that day)
As soon as Alfred made it back to the Great Hall, Harry Ron and Hermione surrounded him.
"What did he want?" asked Harry curiously.
The nation thought for a minute. He wasn't sure what to tell their three friends. There was a possibility that they could help, but there was also a possibility that this person had learned they were countries and was following them because of it. This would, of course, mean leading the three to the conclusion the brothers were nations.
He couldn't very well do that without chaos, so he settled with saying, "He just felt a bit sick, so he wanted to ask if he thought he should go to the hospital wing. I said yes."
Ron squinted at him. "You're acting a bit odd, mate! Something wrong?"
"HAHA~ Dude, nothing's wrong! Why would you think that!?" he laughed, trying to regain his regular cheerful attitude.
Alfred kept trying to figure out who the person was that had impersonated the nurse, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it was likely he didn't know her. Things never just came to anyone simply in real life.
He sighed loudly, which got him some confused looks and a suspicious one from Hermione, so he started asking Ron questions about Quidditch, which launched him into a long description of every rule of the game along with some famous players and their life stories.
He didn't really mind much; in fact he was pleased that he had changed the conversation so dramatically.
Hermione's POV
Hermione stared Alfred suspiciously while he talked with Ron and Harry about Quidditch. He kept changing the subject quickly if it started to move towards Matthew, and when Dean Thomas said he sounded a bit odd and that he should go to the hospital wing and make sure he was alright, Alfred stared back in horror. It was as though Dean had suggested that he should cut off his arms.
Hermione decided to go to the library, although she wasn't sure what she was looking for. She pulled books off of the shelves randomly, reading the table of contents, and then choosing chapters to read that might help, but she didn't come up with anything useful.
She had just chosen a book about spells and potions that created false emotions, when she saw something that she had never seen before. Alfred Jones, self-proclaimed hero was in the library. And on top of that, he was asking the librarian for help.
Against her better judgment, she hid behind a bookshelf to watch what he did.
"Yo, could you help me find something?" He said, he still had his usual confidence in his voice, but he was staying quiet, as though he didn't want anyone to know that he had been to the library.
"That is what I'm here for." Madam Pince said, a slight bitterness in her voice.
"Alright, cool. Anyway, I need a book or something on people pretending to be other people!" He said, and there was an odd seriousness in his tone.
She glared at him, probably because of his poor choice of words, and then said, "I'm sorry, but any books like that are in the restricted section, which you need a note to get into. And you-"she paused to look him with distaste "obviously don't have a note."
"From who?" He asked.
Hermione thought he may have just been interested in the topic at first, but now… She wasn't sure what to think. She put her book back on the shelf carefully, as Madam Pince explained that a note that said he was allowed to check out the book he wanted, signed by any teacher would do.
"I don't know what it's called, though! I need it!" He said urgently, and his look showed desperation, that Hermione was surprised at.
She glared at him. "Why on Earth would you need a book like that?" She demanded.
"Er… I want to get a job with that stuff in it!" He said, but it sounded more like a question than an answer.
Madam Pince stared him down, and then scribbled something onto a piece of paper.
"This is the book I recommend. Get a professor to sign." She told him, sliding the paper across her desk to him.
"Dude, you rock!" He said, and he ran off in search of someone who would sign it for him.
Hermione thought for a minute, and then followed him out. He had never acted so odd before, and she was going to get to bottom of it. It seemed a healthy level of spying was in order.
Alfred's POV
The North American nation ran as fast as he could, planning on going into the first professor's office he came to. This Professor happened to be Professor McGonagall.
"YO! DUDE!" He called, bolting to her desk.
"Yes Mr. Jones?" She sighed.
He thrust the note into her hands. "I need this one book because I want to get a really cool job where I get to turn people into other people and I really need it really bad and so the lady in there was like 'you have to get someone to sign it' so I came and now you gotta sign it or I'll DIE." He said the entire sentence in one breath, and didn't need to gasp for air when he finished, he just stared at her.
She blinked in surprise. "You need a book checked out…?" She asked in disbelief.
He nodded. "Dude, that's what I just said!"
She read the note, stared at him, still with a bit of a dazed expression. "Alright Alfred, but this is just for learning purposes, correct?"
"Yup!"
She stared straight at him, but he stared right back without a guilty expression and she signed it after thinking for a while.
"Oh, Miss Granger? Was there something you needed?"
America turned in surprise. Hermione stumbled into the room, looking as though she had been caught doing something awful, her face was reddening and she stared at the floor. "I-I had a question about… Homework." She stuttered.
Professor McGonagall raised a brow.
"Oh my goodness! I've forgotten it. I apologize if I interrupted you!" She gave a nervous laugh and rushed out.
"I have to go now, seeya!" America called, already halfway across the room.
It didn't take long to get back to the library. After Madam Pince gave looked at the note, she reluctantly handed him a book.
America had been going too quick to bother reading the name of the book Madam Pomfrey had suggested, but when he read the title, he saw it was called Moste Potente Potions.
He looked at the surrounding students then began going in the direction of the Gryffindor common room.
"Oh, look boys! Alfie's decided to become a good student and read some books! Do you know how to read, Jones?" called a smug voice from behind him.
Alfred spun around, and came face to face with Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle.
"Heroes don't have time for people like you." He snapped, surprising himself with his tone.
"So it's true then?" Malfoy laughed.
"Dude, not cool." America said, trying to turn away and leave.
Crabbe and Goyle quickly walked in front of him.
"Are you afraid of me, Jones?" Malfoy teased.
"Not at all. Heroes aren't afraid of anything!" Alfred told him calmly.
"Ghosts are something." Malfoy smirked.
America brushed him off and tried to pass Crabbe and Goyle, but they got closer to each other. Just as America was about to push them to the side, Malfoy called- "Off to see your sister in the hospital wing?" And the three of them laughed.
"Sister?" America repeated, suddenly stopping. "Sister?"
"That's right. I'm talking about your girly excuse of a sibling." Malfoy said, sounding pleased that he was getting a reaction.
America spun on him and landed a punch on his nose. Then, deciding that a bloody nose wasn't quite good enough, he hit him with a round house kick to the chest.
Malfoy coughed and held his bleeding nose. His cloak was stained crimson in several places, and he was leaning slightly to the left.
"You'll pay for that!" He warned him, taking a few steps back cautiously.
"I still haven't paid for what happened on the train or flying practice, dude. I think I'll be fine." America told him, and with that he left.
As he walked down the corridor, America couldn't help but notice that a small smile had appeared on his face.
/AN/ See guys? I'm not dead! America was out of character, I know, but that was sorta on purpose. He'll be back to the America we all know and love in a few chapters, I promise! Sorry if you don't think it's very good, I tried to throw in some humor, but it was mostly a chapter to really get things rolling. And to show you that I wasn't dead. Like I said up top, school took over so I couldn't get a chapter out, and the chapters might continue to be slow. (Hopefully not this slow!)
Hermione's a stalker now! I wonder how this'll turn out! *grin*
I beat up Malfoy at the end to try and improve the chapter quality… Did it work?
Seeya, guys!