Warnings: Language, probably grammar errors, most likely quick to lose track of what is going on because I wrote this while half asleep (again). Sorry in advance for how horrible this chapter came out.
Chapter 28- Eyes Wide Open
England was at the breaking point. It seemed ever since last March when the mysterious Gereon entered the scene, the island nation's life had turned into a downward spiral. Potter had disappeared, presumed kidnapped, then turned up again, a Slytherin heir that Dumbledore had sworn up and down would never appear at the Wizengamot again after the last Gaunt Lord had stepped out of the shadows and reclaimed the seat and title, the Englishman still had no idea who Gereon was or what his game plan was, and Potter still had no definite guardian.
England had his doubts about Dumbledore too. After sitting down and having a bit too much to drink while in his thinking mode, the nation had come to realize that something was very fishy about the old wizard. Going back at old conversations, Dumbledore's interactions with others, and other smaller things made England realize how terrible of a Slytherin he was for completely ignoring the fact that he, a nation, a country, was being deceived and tugged about like a puppet with the puppeteer being the seemingly kind, grandfatherly man with the half-moon glasses.
However, as soon as he realized this fact, he quickly denied it entirely. He was a country for goodness sake! He couldn't be hoodwinked by a human! It would also prove his brother, Scotland, to be correct in mistrusting the old man, and England didn't want to prove the Scottish twat right in anything.
His concern of his doubts over Dumbledore pushed out his concerns over Gereon. True he was still leery of the other man, but so far the Italian had done nothing to cause harm (the little incident with Umbridge earlier that day couldn't be considered an act of violence as the bitch of a woman clearly deserved it). He wished he could trust Gereon's word of peace, but England had trusted Dumbledore with his life up until recently, so his ability to trust anyone at all was sparse outside of his own self (when had he become such a Hufflepuff anyway? No, he could still trust the old Headmaster. He was just being his usual nosy, concerned self). There was that riddle of Gereon's true name that he had yet to solve as well, but England was more concerned of what was Dumbledore's game, so everything related to Gereon could wait until the man did something drastic. No, wait, why was he doubting Dumbledore? The man had been helpful for all these years. Shouldn't he be more leery of an unknown person waltzing into England's life than the one he has known for most of the Headmaster's life?
Yet the main concern above all else at the moment was Potter's placement with a guardian. Now since the trials and re-trials of the Death Eaters was over with, the next biggest court case would be on the pending of the Potter Heir's guardian. England fretted over it more than he probably should, but he couldn't help it. With Potter's past with his Muggle relatives, England knew that despite the brave face and compassionate heart, the boy would need work. He shouldn't be coddled and spoiled, but he couldn't be replaced back in the same abusive relationship as before, just with different fists flying at him. There was the fact that he was also the great Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, and England didn't want him to be placed in a home where he would only be on display like some bloody trophy, or jammed into one of the more serious Death Eater supporter's hands to be abused once again. England didn't know the boy personally, but he as the nation who had a child who became an unlikely hero due to terrible circumstances, England couldn't help but like the child. He regretted not checking up on the Potter Heir, but there was nothing he could do with the past. Dumbledore even expressed his concern with the child's upcoming placement, asking if it would be any better than the Dursley's the last time he met with the man over a month ago. So now he worried and paced a hole in the floor about who would get Potter. It ate at him and chewed at his conscientiousness, demanding for him to get answers once and for all, and at the end of the court cases with the Death Eaters, England made up his mind.
England found himself in Madam Bone's office with Bones and the grumpy Auror Moody locked in with him as he stood in front of the pair, hands behind his back to keep himself from fidgeting as he explained why he needed to know the possible guardians of one Harry Potter and why. "He just needs a normal life, for once," he said at one point as he fought the urge to pace or wring his hands. Or rub his temples. He could feel a little jabbing of a headache starting to brew right behind the eyes.
Madam Bones leaned back in her chair behind her desk, her hands folded in front of her as she eyed the nation with a serious look. The silence hung in the air, however, and England couldn't help but fidget and sweat under the steady gaze. The steely eyes of Madam Bones flickered off England for a moment to look at Moody, before gazing back at the nation.
"Lord Kirkland, are you in withdrawal?"
The question jolted England, staring at Madam Bones as if she had grown a second head. What would make her say that? He was perfectly fine! He didn't take drugs or tampered with questionable potions or anything! He bristled at the very thought, and opened his mouth to tell Madam Bones exactly what he thought about her question. However, his vision suddenly titled sideways as the feeling of someone driving a steel rod through his skull slammed into him, and with a blink later, found himself staring up at an unfamiliar marble ceiling, to which he quickly shut his eyes again to block out the light.
"-enough potions in his system to kill a troll," a voice grated on his ears. "There's years worth of spells, and potions weaved into him. If he wasn't who he is, he would've long since been dead or permanently incapacitated under the strain."
"Shuddup." Oh gods, speaking made the throbbing shoot straight down to his toes. His entire body ached, a pain similar to the ones he had during the bombings in the Second World War. It felt like he had fallen into a pit full of Cornish Pixies with sledgehammers before getting run over by Italy in a car fueled by Firewhiskey.
"Sounds like you're feeling better already," a gravely voice that England recognized as the goblin Gemclaw, his Gringotts Vault overseer. England cracked a green eye open to shoot the smug goblin a dark look. Or tried. The room was spinning at a rather nasty speed which made him feel nauseous, so he clamped it shut again and let out a grumbling growl instead.
"You were under more than under the influence of controlling potions and spells, most of which are illegal, Lord Kirkland," Madam Bones' voice sounded somewhere to England's left.
"List," he ground out in a hoarse voice, blindly holding out one hand. They would have made a complete list of whatever was in his system during the diagnosis. Goblins were ever so careful, especially if there was potential of suing someone's ass. Being subtly controlled under potions or spells, especially Compulsion or Loyalty charms, spells, or potions would account for his constant flip-flop thoughts on Dumbledore, his concerns over Gereon, and his unearthy desire to figure the fuck out who Potter was going to. It would explain his mood swings and- now that he thought about it- his sometimes lapse of memory. Shit.
"Both Moody and myself felt it was safest for the goblins to take care of this problem," Madam Bones continued, setting the parchment into England's hand. England scrunched his eyes and cracked one open, squinting at the parchment pressed close to his face. Through his blurry vision he could make out that it was quite a hefty number of potions and spells that had been on his person. "It seemed that your body was starting to tolerate some of the potions so much that it was craving for a larger dose." He could almost hear her pressing her lips together into that serious thin-lipped frown. "I'm surprised you were able to get out of bed in the morning, let alone get up and act normal enough to fool even your brother that nothing was amiss."
"That would be my Slytherin practices being put to use," he grumbled, his hand full of parchment falling onto his face. "Merlin fucking Morgana, why couldn't I realize this shit was going on?" And his brothers didn't realize either? Hell, they probably did, but only put it off as England 'having his period again' as they liked to put it. England did have a problem in keeping his emotions in check sometimes, especially the grouchily sulking about moods (although those only happened when America showed up, which he couldn't help it if the idiot kept showing up at his door four times a week). Besides, there was family rivalry, to which they all took part of and playing dirty wasn't against the rules. It was just how the Kirklands worked- pissing each other off or letting them fall into their own pitfalls.
"So I'm going to feel like fucking shit for a good while," England blew out a disgruntled huff, his arm flopped over the edge of the table he was lying on. "And this started because I came to figure who the bloody hell is going to get Potter." Why the fuck did he care about that? True he wanted the boy to be happy and all, but it wasn't his business though. Madam Bones was a strong, able woman who would know who exactly would deem worthy of taking care of the Boy-Who-Lived. So why did it seem so damn important for him to know the information before?
"Still onto that?" Moody's gravely voice sounded far away, probably lurking in the far corner.
"No one outside of Madam Bones and Mr. Potter are privy of knowing the potential guardians of Mr. Potter." Gemclaw sounded rather bemused. "Or don't you remember the time us goblins had to toss you out, Lord Kirkland?"
Oh, England remembered that. It was that weekend when the other magical nations came to Diagon Alley and Scotland played babysitter for them while England was trying to find every loophole possible to squeeze any information at all out of the goblins. They had not been amused. In truth, England never had bothered the goblins so much in his life, as he knew to respect them and not under-mind them, and the very memory embarrassed the man. He was lucky he only got thrown out and not have his balls chopped off and fed to one of the guard dragons. Being a country didn't do any favors with goblins when their laws and personal information regarding a favored client was questioned so rudely.
"You don't need to remind me," England grumbled. "It must've been the damned potions or Compulsion Charms," he groaned before waving the parchment in the air. "Now someone please bloody tell me who decided to pump me up like a fucking drug addict without me realizing because I can't even see straight. And if it's someone whose name begins with 'Albus' and ends with fucking 'Dumbledore' then I'm going to crack someone's skull."
There was a brief pause. Then. "Well, you wouldn't mind being a witness during his trial for being a controlling bastard, then."
England was pretty sure his magic caused a large crack to appear in the marble walls of the Gringotts Healing Room at that.
Notes:
England finally realized what the fuck was going on with Dumbledore. The old goat's going to get it, I'm sure.
I would like to apologize for not posting sooner. First there was a holiday, then there was a funeral, and then I was just too lazy to write anything, so now this chapter's like, two weeks late. Please forgive me.
I would also like to thank the reviewers who have given me the list of countries' human names. However, I have decided to put all future stories on hold until I finish this one. I can barely get this one done without my brain revolting and thinking up ten thousand other plot lines. It's horrible, really. And then by the time I go "okay, I'll write it!" my brain's like "Lol, no, that's actually not really important right now, you actually want to think about this other plot instead!" *bangs head on wall*
I will most likely write and post Feather Dance, however, I will most likely write several chapters in advance before ever getting around to posting them.
I also need to finish that Homestuck story I was writing too... damn it.
ANYWAY, I have decided that this story will most likely get rolling pretty fast from here, I think. I really want to finish this story without dragging it out too much, and I feel like I have already lost my spark in writing this story too, so I want to complete it before I completely fall flat on my face. I mean, I've already decided how this story is going to end. Sad, right? But I still need to figure out how to get from this point A to point Z without falling down a flight of stairs in the process.
SO, this leaves us with two options:
1- Continue writing this story one chapter at a time, one week(ish) at a time
OR
2- Write all the chapters from this next one to the last, and post them all at once.
Both will force me to carry this out for probably another month or so, but the second one will let me procrastinate for an ungodly amount of time. You, the readers, can decide.
There's also a third option of you all throwing rocks at me too, but I assume you would like me to finish this story with all my fingers intact.
(This story was posted on June 20, 2014)
Next Chapter: The Genet, the Rat, and the Lion
