Summary: (Harry Potter / Hetalia Axis Powers Crossover) England decides to teach at Hogwarts to keep an eye on the Boy Who Lived. But the famous Trio (Harry, Ron, Hermione) are becoming suspicious of their new professor... Can England keep his status as a country a secret? And what does Voldemort want with him?

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Hetalia.

Ron

"Look, look, I swear to god, it happened-"

At this point, Ron was more than pissed. He'd left the field of mild annoyance behind for the greener pastures of exasperated irritability. No matter how long he and Hermione looked, there was never a trace of anything on the map to reward their unblinking efforts. By now, Ron's eyes were getting sore and watery, but he was unable to move them away from the spot that said 'Arthur Kirkland' without Harry shoving the map back in his face with endless ecstatic urgings. Ron wished he had his enthusiasm, or better yet, wished he was convincing enough of a liar to feign excitement, so that this whole ordeal could be over with.

"Harry, how long are you going to force us to stare at this sodding scrap of paper?"

"Until it happens again. Please, I promise, it changed. One second it was his name, and the next-"

"Did it ever occur to you that you might've been dreaming, Harry?" spoke up Hermione gently. This was a mistake on her part, because no sooner did she suggest this, than Harry began to flush in righteous, offended anger. She shirked away, realising how rude that must've sounded to Harry's ears.

Drawing himself up, he indignantly replied, "I did not dream it, hallucinate it, or anything of the sort."

"Mate, you were tired, it was late, who knows how long you were up just eyeballing it. Maybe your eyes started to play tricks on you?" Ron just wanted to drop the entire thing, not deal with Harry's new hobby of proving Kirkland was a country. For these past few days, it'd bordered on obsession.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ron saw Hermione uncomfortably transfer her weight from foot to foot, twitching impatiently. They were in the same boat, then, eager to escape from this situation with the marauder's map. 'Twas all too likely that she was thinking about the astronomy test tonight, and was wanting to prepare and study planet-charts for the four-hundredth time. Show off.

"I- wait..." Harry breathed out, green eyes raptly fastened to the map. For once, Ron felt his interest actually pique. Needing no encouragement this time, he leaned his head over his friend's shoulder, to see what he was seeing.

"It's gone, no, there it is again."

It appeared to Ron that the marauder's map was currently a very confused piece of paper. The written words, 'Arthur Kirkland', flickered and spasamed as if they were experiencing some sort of seizure. The inked name struggled to retain form, blurring out, warping erratically, and even disappearing completely a few times. Other letters would take its place when this happened. Finally, it settled solidly into an entirely new line, that was much longer than 'Arthur Kirkland', and it remained that way long enough for Ron to read it.

'The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.'

"What in-"

'England. Britain. Arthur-United Kingd- Northern- ARTHUR KIRKLAND.'

"What the hell is WRONG with this thing?" Ron couldn't believe his eyes. As soon as the paroxysm of words started, it suddenly stopped. There it was, reading 'Arthur Kirkland' again, as if nothing had changed in the first place.

Harry's voice was a bit too smug, or maybe relieved was a better word, when he said, "I did tell you, didn't I?"

Harry

Maybe a malfunctioning magical map wasn't the best piece of evidence to confirm that Kirkland was a country. But it was the best thing he had. Like a puzzle, the country-theory was a perfect explanation that made all the pieces fall into place. As strange as it sounded, Harry was convinced that it was the answer they had been searching for.

"How does that work, exactly, anyhow? A person can't be a country, not really. A country is something immeasurable, political, cultural, sometimes ethnical. It has boundaries that can be fluid, and it encompasses people, laws, aspects of humanity, and history itself. No one person could be all that. But maybe, Kirkland is more of... a representation. Some being that sits beside all that a nation entails, to parade the collective consciousness of it."

None of that got through to Ron, and if Harry was being honest, then the same applied to him. With a empty-faced cringe, Ron responded, "...Was that really necessary, Hermione? Couldn't we have just said 'wow it's weird that Kirkland is Great Britain' and be done with it?"

"Honestly, Ron, I can't believe you. I try so hard to explain things in understandable terms, or to speculate, and you shoot me down every time."

"I shoot you down? What about my ideas?"

"I dismiss them because they're daft."

For a moment, Ron's countenance was one of legitimate hurt, and he said nothing. Harry observed Hermione's face change to become conflicted, torn two ways. Apology and silence sat on her tongue, but nothing was said, except, "Shouldn't we be getting to the astronomy tower? It's nearly half-past-ten, it takes about fifteen minutes to climb up there, and the exam starts at eleven. That leaves us fifteen minutes to review while waiting. We should be sharp."

Ron snorted, shaking his head slowly at the ground and scoffing under his breath. "Only you would calculate the exact time we need to leave, to be on time, Hermione. Only you."

/

It didn't take too long to get to the tower. Hermione was wrong in that it took them only a little over five minutes to get there, not fifteen. That left them with quite a lapse to chat quietly under their breaths when the examiner wasn't looking in their direction. If astronomy wasn't completely irrelevant in Harry's mind, he would've been panicking at this point. He was getting Uranus mixed up with Neptune and vice versa, mistaking mercury for a moon, and so on.

Also early, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil quietly conversed in a corner, looking over their charts and exchanging notes. Harry knew that leaving those two seated together, gave the girls ample chance to cheat. Not that they needed too. Their passion for divination and skill for astronomy had probably both 'arrived in the same package', per se, what with the direct relation between the two subjects. Brown and Patil would probably have no problems with writing this exam, and passing it with ease.

It wasn't just the five of them for long. By the minute, more and more students were filing in for the exam, taking seats, arranging quills and telescopes, and murmuring last-minute tips to each other in undertones. The main examiner raised his hand, signalling silence, which fell upon everyone like a curtain. Harry recognised him as Professor Tofty, the same wizard who'd examined him for his Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL. Another examiner, an old woman, swayed contemplatively somewhere in the background. Harry believed that her name was Marchbanks. With the room now hushed, the practical segment of the exam soon began, and Harry could see Hermione furiously writing down planets and stars out of the corner of his eye. Before she had been anxiously fidgeting, quill pressed to her charts and ready to begin plotting, but now that quill was practically a blur as it glided over the parchment.

He shook himself, refocusing on his own work so as to not arouse suspicion in the examiner. The inked tip of his feathered quill aimlessly drifted in circles across the chart he was supposed to fill in, roughly and shakily sketching in orbits without the use of a pair of compasses or other drawing instruments. Europa is the... fifth moon, right? The one with the orbit close to Io. Third- no first- second Galilean moon of Jupiter? And then there's Callisto... no, no that can't be right... He really should've taken Hermione's advice yesterday and studied more...

Maybe I'd better just start on the stars. That might be easier. And so, he moved on to filling in the plotted positions of stars, muttering their respective names in a tone so low that he might as well have been mouthing them. Nevertheless, the examiner harshly hushed him, drawing the gaze of just about every students within hearing distance. Harry shrunk, ducking his head and keeping absolutely quiet from now on. In silence, save for the scratching of his quill, he strived in a vain and drudging struggle to salvage at least a passable mark.

Something soon distracted him, however, and judging by the unanimous body language of the class, it wasn't just him that was picking up on it. There were sounds down below, coming from the grounds. When the examiner made another round, passing on his right side, Harry's eyes quickly darted back to his relatively empty-looking star chart.

Focus. Focus. Polaris, that's an easy one, the north star. Perfect place to start... Harry found that one with no difficulty. The star... Sirius, next. The dog star. Ha, Sirius. That's funny. No way can I mess up this one... His head tilted up to scrutinise the sky. There it was. Sirius. The brightest visible star in the sky. His godfather would be proud... Canopis. Where the hell is Canopis again? Ah, I'll just skip that one.

The sounds started up again, and Harry couldn't help but feel his curiosity return. Something wasn't... right. Unobtrusively, he directed his telescope away from the skies, and down towards the grounds laid out below the tower. Shadowy figures of an unknown number were walking towards Hagrid's hut. Although Harry could not see their faces in this darkness, he could still make out the well-known, peculiar trotting gait of Dolores Umbridge. Professor Tofty cleared his throat, and Harry forcefully shoved down his dread with a shaky swallow.

Venus. Venus is the second planet from the sun in the solar system. Does Venus have any moons? I can't remember. Very hot atmosphere, very bright. Shouldn't be too hard to find. Now, where are you...

BLAM BLAM BLAM.

Fists on wood rekindled Harry's interest. The knocking was so prominent that it was impossible to ignore. Just what was happening down there? And in the middle of an OWL testing, no less? That same question must've be on everybody else's minds, too. Dean Thomas was squinting at the faint lights from Hagrid's lanterns, pretending to be drawing in constellations like a connect-the-dots puzzle. Hermione was sweating profusely, but tried not to draw attention to it when she wiped the sleeve of her robes over her forehead. Worry wore on Ron's face like the weight of ten tons of concrete.

"Open up!" BLAM BLAM.

Even Professor Tofty was aware of something happening by now, but adamantly insisted on quieting any discontent whispers from the students. By now, the Astronomy OWL was the least of Harry's concern. Presently, the welfare of his friend Hagrid was at the forefront of his mind. It wasn't like I was going to pass with an 'A' anyway, let alone an 'O'...

Light flooded the grounds when Hagrid's door opened, and Harry could finally see the distinct silhouettes of Umbridge and the others with her. He counted six in total, maybe more, but definitely six at the least. Hagrid's shadow nearly blotted out the entire doorway, but it moved aside when the new arrivals strode in. The door closed behind them silently, and Harry just waited with a knot in his throat.

...Nothing. Nothing at all. He wondered what they were talking about in there, but the walls of Hagrid's home prevented any chance of eavesdropping on their conversation, not to mention the high height Harry was at in this tower.

"Focus, everyone. There's only so much time left," spoke up Tofty in a soft but stern voice. They all hustled to return to their star-charting, when a great bellow echoed up from the grounds, rattling in Harry's eardrums. Only one pair of lungs that he knew could holler out an enraged howl that loud. Hagrid.

"OUT! AWAY WITH YEH!" BANG!

Hermione's eye was practically glued to the eyepiece of her telescope. Harry could hear Ron's anxious pants as he gazed at the grounds with the aid of his star-glass. The space was mesmerised and put on pause. Everything felt frozen in time. After a quick look around, Harry could see Neville Longbottom transfixed, just like everyone else. The door to Hagrid's hut banged open once more, and the visitors stumbled outside and onto the lawn. Vengefully, the shadowy figures of the people sprang to their feet.

"20 minutes left-"

Tofty's plea fell on deaf ears when the red lights began. Each of the six prowling trespassers had their wands out and pointed at Hagrid, who brandished his thick, trunk-like arms like he was wielding broad swords in his hands. The scarlet glow of an endless stream of stunning spells lit up Hagrid's body from within, but they all seemed to either deflect off his skin or were harmlessly absorbed into his clothing. Hagrid charged on, his impenetrable half-giant's hide protecting him from the worst of the magic. It was enough to awe Harry. His friend, so gentle and harmless usually, was now an unstoppable bull, and his attackers must've known it.

Raised voices were audible from this height, and although most words were incomprehensible and drowned out in yells, there was a quick burst of intelligible English. "Be reasonable, Hagrid-!"

"REASONABLE BE DAMNED. YEH WON' TAKE ME LIKE THIS DAWLISH."

From in front of Hagrid snarled the outline of a canine. Fang, Hagrid's massive boarhound. Yelping in a tone that was much higher than his normal deep, booming barks, the dog was struck in the chest by a stunner and collapsed. Roars of rage rang up to the tower, triggering students and examiners alike to start and duck their heads. Hagrid rushed over, bending over near Fang's fallen form. He straightened with the beaten boar-hound slung over his shoulders, like a flour-sack.

"COWARD! IF YEH WANTED TER SACK ME YEH SHOULD'VE DONE IT WITH SUM DIGNITY, INSTEAD OF CREEPIN' IN THE MIDDLE OF TEH NIGHT! COWARDS! I WOULD'VE GONE!"

"DON'T LET HIM GET AWAY!" shrieked a voice somewhere on the spectrum between girly and beastly. It was Umbridge's vile vocal chords, plain and obvious.

Not giving up, Tofty once again stubbornly berated the raptly diverted students. "Now really, this is an examination, fifteen minutes-!"

To Harry's surprise, another person had come onto the scene. She blotted out the grass behind her, leaving a shadow on the ground where she walked. Harry didn't need to be left wondering for very long as to who this newcomer was. The stern way she stormed forward... it could only be Professor McGonagall.

"Leave him alone! LEAVE HIM ALONE I SAY-"

All at once, they turned on her and levelled their wands. Seemingly without a second thought, they started to stun her mercilessly, sending forward crimson-coloured jets of magic. There was a piercing, collective cry from the unseen spectators in the astronomy tower as they witnessed the Gryffindor Head of House stiffen into a board. For a brief second, she glowed red from the stupefies, and since this lit up her entire body, Harry could see her mouth fall open into an agape expression of numb shock. Then, ever so slowly, she toppled over and moved no more. Dimly, Harry listened to Parvati and Lavender sob in broken tones.

Professor Tofty lost his composure and let out a short outcry, "Without any warning! Disgusting conduct! Revolting! I hope their mothers are proud of them!"

She can't be dead. She can't be. She's old, yes, but McGonagall wouldn't die, would she? Still reeling from pure disbelief at what had transpired, Harry's foggy eyes and ears only half caught Hagrid's reaction.

"RUDDY COWARDS! BLEEDIN' COWARDS! HOW COULD YOU?!"

"STOP HIM-!"

The sound of Umbridge's wily voice was drowned out by blows from Hagrid. His fits swung into the two nearest men, knocking them over like they were flies being swatted aside. Hermione's hands were over her mouth, eyes wide and wet.

"TAKE SOME O' THAT, AN' THA'!"

"STOP HIM! STOP THE HALFBREED!" Determinedly, Umbridge had not let up in her stunning-assault, despite the lack of progress she was making with that approach. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING, JUST STANDING THERE? USELESS!"

Over all this clamour, Hagrid had already initiated his escape, taking his leave through the trees that lined the fringe of the forbidden forest. Never before had Harry been more grateful and relieved to see his friend go. He needed to get out of here, for his own safety. It was for the best.

Before a pursuit could be made, another disturbance emerged from the castle in the form of Professor Kirkland.

"MINERVA!"

Kirkland screamed in outrage, furiously stalking after them. Even from his distance, Harry could see him seethe, shoulders shaking and face livid. But before he could take another step, there was a sequence of loud 'cracks', one after the other, and just like that the group was gone.

There was a sharp intake of air from Hermione. "She must've turned off the anti-apparition wards for a quick escape..."

Knowing that Hagrid wouldn't be able to do the same, mentally finished Harry for her.

Now with his targets having apparated into thin air, Kirkland was left with nothing else to do but double over and scoop up the dark heap that was McGonagall. Harry observed him gently adjust her head, and then scurry back into the castle. Good. That meant she would be getting help...

Somehow Harry knew that Umbridge would not be dealt any disciplinary action. She only had witnesses working against her, and since it'd been late, no one could say for certain that she had been involved (though Harry was personally one hundred percent sure of it). Night was the perfect time to do something so wretched; she must've timed it with that in mind. Even if enough serious evidence was gathered to point an unbiased finger at her, what then? Umbridge was the Headmistress of this school, and she ruled it with an iron fist. The Minister was wrapped around her finger. What could hurt her?

'Twas times like these that Harry could fully appreciate how power brought out the worst in people, making the most tame of monsters meaner. Of course, Umbridge had never been 'tame' to begin with, which made it all the more terrible...

"...Five minutes left, children," tentatively, squeaked Tofty. Harry didn't know why he bothered... it didn't matter anymore.

England

"Minerva? Minerva, open your eyes. Give me some sort of sign. Something. Anything?"

There was absolutely no response, and yet Arthur waited, for a twitch, a groan, an eye-blink, some tell-tale manifestation of life. He could see nothing, save for the soft rise and fall of her robes which signalled the inhale and exhale of breath. That same breathing was very, very faint, and its weakness worried Arthur. Gulping dryly, he reached out a quaking hand and felt her forehead. The skin was clammy, and cold. Not good. No one should be hit with that many stunning spells, let alone all at once and at her age.

"J-just, hold on, I'll get Pomfrey." Letting out a great shudder, England picked up the pace and raced away as fast as his legs could carry him. Being such a frail thing, Minerva was not that heavy, and her weight was no burden. The only restriction placed on England's haste was that he was frightened of jostling her around too much, given her worsening state, so that put a slight damper on his speed. Besides that one impediment, he sprinted smoothly and swiftly to the Hospital Wing.

When he got to the door, he didn't dare risk using one of his occupied hands to knock, and instead just kicked with his left leg until the wood creaked and shrieked in complaint. His leg froze mid-swing as the door swung open to show a rattled Pomfrey.

"Arthur! What in Lord's name could've prompted you to bust down my do- Oh." The medi-witch breathed out, eyes sorrowfully bulging at Minerva, upset and stunned at the sight. She turned business-like in just a few seconds, medical training taking over any emotion.

"What happened?"

"Stunning spells, about s-seven, all to the chest."

"At the same time?"

"Yes."

"It's a miracle she isn't dead! This is beyond my ability to treat. We have to take her to St. Mungos. What a dirty, dirty trick... disgraceful thing to do..." Pomfrey's face wrinkled in disgust.

Mutually disdained, England let out a ratifying grunt in the back of his throat. "Playing dirty is what Dolores does best... I see that now..."

She won't stop. She plays by her own rules. One can only try, and fail, to beat her at her own game.

Author's Note:

Griselda Marchbanks (from last chapter) is NOT an OC. She actually, 110%, literally, truthfully, and in all complete honesty, appears in the fifth Harry Potter book, and is yet another genius creation of J.K.'s universe. Sorry if I confused anyone, I should've clarified. Like Rose Zeller, she is simply a minor-once-mentioned side-character that I decided to give a nod to ^^.

Yuyake no Okami:

Ok, you basically asked for this XD... How do you Canadians see us Italians?

Awesome food. Soups, pastas, pizzas... Yum. We like to joke about the mafia, but from my experience, mostly it seems like we see you as sassy and super sweet people. -heart- XD

Sorry guys, I've been so busy :(. In fact, I'm going to an anime convention tomorrow! My first one, actually. Good thing I'm going with a friend~ If anyone else is going on the thirteenth to a CANADIAN con, then you might see me there! All I'll say is that I'll be cosplaying as England X3.

Thanks so much for all the reviews! I really cannot thank you guys enough. Please, keep it up baessss -huggles-