Notes: Third trimester registration is now CLOSED. Without further ado, let's start the final leg of this fic.


The International Academy of Hetalia Fanfiction: Semester Three

Part I

At the International Academy of Hetalia Fanfiction, every new semester brought in new faces, new secrets, and new additions to the ever growing chart of drama (painstakingly recorded by Kitty Smith and Anita Khok, accompanied by Anita's diabolically hyperactive sidekick Mariam Webb). That held true for most boarding schools and universities – gossip was a natural activity for the curious type of human known as the teenager, after all. It went double for the even more curious type of human known as the fangirl (or the fangirl's XY counterpart, the fanboy), since a fangirl had twice the amount of hormones pumping through her endocrine system than the average teenager. And that was saying something.

Of course, some denizens at IAHF weren't human – but they seemed to behave in humanoid ways, so they fell under the umbrella. However, all of that was tangential to the point that it was a new semester at IAHF.

It would also be the final semester for the first semester students, namely those who had been at the school since the first semester. Amongst those included Jennifer Chang, who was sitting at her usual seat at the North American table in the cafeteria, eating her red bean porridge and xiao long buns without much comment.

"What are we going to do today?" her friend Kriss Kross asked from the seat across from her. Kriss was going out with their other friend, Jennifer Breigher. Everyone called her Merka – everyone except Megan, Jennifer's alien roommate. Megan insisted on calling Merka 'Merkity-derkity'; she had coined nicknames for nearly half of the population at IAHF. She had also slept with a fair number of those people.

"I was thinking that we could…" Merka trailed off before whispering the rest. Jennifer snickered, looking amusedly at Kriss's surprised expression.

"Shut up, Merk!" the Asakiku fangirl exclaimed, swatting good-naturedly at her.

"Come on! They don't call it the library of love for nothing!" exclaimed the USUK fangirl in response. Had it not been for their mutual Anglophilia, Merka and Kriss would probably never have become friends in the first place. USUK and Asakiku shippers often butted heads – but not as often as USUK and FrUK. Those two factions feuded like the English and the French on a regular basis.

"You know what?" asked Sidneh Stapler as she walked past with Sam Smith, the resident zombie ninja at IAHF. "I heard the new students are supposed to come today!"

"New students?" echoed Sam Smith. "Brains…"

"Yeah, brains," Sidneh muttered. "No, you can't have any."

"Blarrrgh." Sam stuck out her tongue at her.

But the news spread; the students found themselves anticipating the arrival of their peers.

"Comb your hair, Andrew Khok! You look like a slovenly mess!" snapped Lucas Arch, who was an Angel and therefore Holier than Thou™. So far he had spent his break instilling moral order into IAHF (a losing battle from the beginning, especially with Megan around – and he had, ironically enough, been one of Megan's, ahem, customers, too) and earning himself a fair number of critics from various students – even students from the Nerd Group, the elite and highly selective history buff club on campus. Some of the leading members of the Nerd Group were even considering setting up an entrance examination system.

But back to Lucas. He was now fussing over Susanna Black-White like a mother hen, even clucking slightly as he adjusted her green cap and combed her short blonde hair. Susanna and Andrew were the youngest in the school, but Susanna was already bragging to those who cared to listen that she was turning eleven in May.

No one really cared; the younger students tended to be snubbed by the older students. Especially the ones in their late teens; they seemed to think that the younger generations were getting worse and worse in taste. After all, any generation that condoned Rebecca Black

But once again, that was tangential. Lucas, like a good angelic nanny, was marshalling the preteen students into orderly lines. Everyone else lolled around and ignored him, talking with their mouths full of breakfast and anticipating the arrival of the newcomers.

They weren't disappointed. The doors to the cafeteria opened and in came the freshly-oriented third trimester students.

"Oh hey, looks like you have a new addition to your brood, Lucas," snickered Loki Shadow Reave, pointing to a little twelve-year-old girl who was clinging onto a little rabbit with red goggles, a lab coat, and a brown helmet.

"Indeed, I do," Lucas replied serenely, floating over to the girl. "Hello, little one. I am an Angel of –"

"Yeah, whatever," the girl snapped, adjusting her glasses and staring up at him with an amazing amount of attitude. "Like I need your stupid holiness!"

Lucas nearly fainted out of shock. Everyone else snickered, except for Susanna Black-White, who looked horrified at seeing her role model being sassed by a girl who didn't look much older than her.

"Luke!" someone called, and moments later another angel appeared. "How's it going, man?"

"Not another overgrown bird!" Loki, a Shadow demon (and therefore Lucas's archnemesis), complained.

"Is that you, Loki?" another demon popped his head into the room, grinning wickedly. "Oh, lovely, more Angels."

"More demons!" squeaked mermaid student Zariana-Sylvia Middleford. "Get them away from me!"

"Well, hello little girl," purred the second demon, winking suggestively at Zariana, who squeaked again and hid behind the other mermaid student, Lucia Verdas. "I am Blaise Asmodée, the Prince of Lechers."

"Cool story, bro," Megan piped up. "I'll take you on, boy."

"This is Megan. She's the resident slut," Lucia Verdas added cheerily, good-naturedly jabbing at Megan as her alien ex-girlfriend walked past. Blaise looked taken aback.

Loki snickered. "I don't think pheromones work very effectively here, unless they come from the Staff members," she noted. Blaise pouted. "Yeah, it doesn't work, seriously. Just ask Aloisio Guerra."

"Actually, I've been powerless in the face of fangirls from the start," aforementioned Cupid pointed out as he flew past with his lyre.

"Whatever," muttered Loki as KyAnna, the resident Dark angel, walked over to their side still clutching a bun.

"So, another holiness-and-light Angel?" she asked, as Loki pilfered her bun. "That was mine, Loki, give it back."

"Nyeh, takers keepers," retorted Loki. "We still outnumber them, anyways. And no one likes Lucas."

"But really, only an idiot would protest against gay rights at a school full of yaoi fangirls," snickered KyAnna. "Not a lot of people like hearing that their Lust Objects are going to Hell just because they were written into slash fanfics."

"Oh, I don't mind seeing more Lust Objects in Hell," Loki cackled, grinning wickedly. "Keep 'em coming!"

But back to the Light Side. Lucas had just greeted his friend Cain Harren, who looked every bit as angelic as he did. Cain was then duly introduced to Susanna, who grinned prettily at him.

"So, you're an angel, too?" the ten-year-old girl asked happily.

"Why certainly, little one. Like your friend Lucas, I am also one of the Messengers of –"

CRASH! It looked as if the religious censors at IAHF were up-to-date. Cain looked up to see the door to the cafeteria swing open.

In came Mr. Hugh Fraser, the Course Coordinator at IAHF. He was tall, blond, thick-browed, and reasonably handsome. Considering the rumours that circulated about him possibly being the child between Arthur Kirkland and Alfred F. Jones, it was no wonder. Mr. Hugh was accompanied by Gestapo Ludwig, who was forcibly restraining a young woman with tousled blonde hair.

At the sight of Mr. Hugh, red-haired Charles Tenterden squealed and rushed for him. At the same time, Karen Elaine DuLay squealed at the sight of Gestapo Ludwig and tried to dive-tackle him. The German quickly stepped away, causing Karen to crash into the floor.

"You have no right to handle me like this!" Ludwig's detainee screamed, her blue eyes mad with rage. Her curly blonde hair had obviously been pristine prior to the struggle, and she had two ahoges on her head that echoed the infamous Vargas curls.

"Mary, be quiet, please," Mr. Hugh pleaded in his Sexy British Accent (the only difference between him and his alter-ego Mr. Allen Clarke was that Received Pronunciation accent), obviously trying to placate her.

"I will not be quiet! You dare handle your wife with such contempt?" That accusation had the whole room reeling in shock. Kitty and Anita quickly scrambled for their chart.

"His wife?" echoed Christine Blacke, rubbing her eyes. "She's his wife?"

"Raise your hand if you suddenly thought of Jane Eyre," Carolina Brown declared at the Australia table, where the Nerd Group regularly convened. Several people in the room raised their hands.

But Mary hadn't finished ranting yet. "I have been exceedingly loyal to you, even after you died, mind you – but the moment I wake up here they say – they say that you've already gone and impregnated some whore!"

"Impregnated?" echoed the students, looking over at Megan. She didn't seem to have a baby bump, but who knew.

"Oh, yeah, he did get someone pregnant," Emma Markowska said loudly from her corner. "I heard about it a couple of months ago."

"Look, Mary, Takara was a naïve fool. That doesn't make her a whore. There's a world of difference between a fool and a whore," Mr. Hugh said patiently.

"Takara got pregnant? The Mary Sue chick? By Mr. Hugh?" Sakura Crystal Kirkland asked loudly.

"I didn't know he had it in him!" Sabrina snickered, gnawing at a crouton.

Charlie Tenterden had stopped dead in his tracks and was sobbing into Taylor Drews-Garcia's shoulder. Taylor, who was going out with Nerd Group leader Franklin Mycroft Livingston, also looked disappointed since he had (once upon a time) also held a torch for Mr. Hugh.

"He got someone pregnant, and it wasn't me!" bawled the red-haired fanboy. Taylor patted his shoulder consolingly.

"Wait, is this guy, like, some sort of chick and guy magnet?" Nick Jenkins demanded, pointing to Mr. Hugh, who was muttering something to his snarling wife. Jennifer was reminded of those lion tamers at the circus; she half-expected Mr. Hugh to try to put his head in his wife's mouth any minute. "Wow, like, no wonder his wife's mad!"

After a while, Mr. Hugh took a step away from the blonde Mary, who seemed to be struggling to hold her tongue. "We will talk later," he said imperiously, before striding from the room closely followed by Gestapo Ludwig. Once free of her restraint, Mary ran for the door, her irritable mood back.

"What about the children?" she screamed.

"Children?" echoed the students, looking at each other uneasily.

"He had children? Shit, they must be evil!" Mitsuki Horenake declared. "Probably really cute, but totally evil! Like the Fluffy Mint Bunnies!"

Like all similar institutions, cute and fluffy things at IAHF were often evil. It was just a fact of life.

Mary seemed to be forcibly restraining herself from pounding and kicking at the door until it fell, simply because she would probably just hurt herself doing it. She settled for yelling instead. "Surely you haven't forgotten about the children, you –!" She huffed and took a deep breath. "HUGH FRASER, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

Susanna Black-White gasped in horror, as Lucas Arch put his hands over her ears. Everyone else looked shell-shocked. No one had ever called the Course Coordinator something like that before.

"Uh… Mary?" Allison Frazier asked. She was apparently a cross-dresser, which Peter Kirkland had taken to mean that she liked wearing crosses. Peter Kirkland did customs at IAHF, and he was notorious for misinterpreting the forms.

"Was she at the orientation?" Kriss Kross asked another new student, who had introduced herself as Emerald Glee.

"Yeah," Emerald said. "She got really mad at… what's-his-face… halfway through the orientation and had to be escorted out of the room."

"Why? I mean… is she really his wife?" Jennifer asked.

"She must be Mary Crawford Fraser," Merka declared, snapping her fingers. "She was on our DBQ last semester, remember?"

"The one who rambled on and on about Italy and Japan and how pretty they were?" Kriss echoed, looking over at the sour-tempered woman who had now settled for fuming silently. "Wow, discrepancy much?"

"Considering she wrote that whenever she had been historically alive…" Merka nodded, before doing the universal sign for cuckoo. "I don't think the squirrels in her attic are sober."

"How did she get in here? Wouldn't they have let her stay with Mr. Hugh, since she's also technically a historical figure?" Emerald Glee asked.

"Hm." Kriss furrowed her brows. "Maybe there was a misunderstanding."

They looked over at Mary once more, watching the irritated woman pace the ground in front of the doors, huffing and snorting like an angry stallion.

Or, in light of her gender, an angry mare.


"There has got to be a mistake. How did my wife end up on the student enrolment list?" Mr. Hugh demanded, glaring at Peter Kirkland as he stormed into the Customs office. The micronation shrugged.

"She filled out the form," he replied nonchalantly.

"How did she get the form?" Mr. Hugh asked accusingly.

"Who resurrected her?" Peter retorted.

Mr. Hugh sighed. "We could have let her become one of the historical figures on the Staff," he muttered.

Peter sighed as well. "Dunno how to do that, sir. We've never turned a student into a Staff member before." He paused. "Well, duh, since it's our first year."

Mr. Hugh massaged his temples. "It's the least I can do for her. Just figure it out." He turned and left the office, storming towards his own with a raging headache. By the time he reached his office, Mr. Hugh was gone and Mr. Allen was in control.

Arthur Kirkland suddenly arrived on the scene, with Alfred F. Jones in tow. The American was spinning a basketball, having just finished another round of basket-shooting with Toris Lorinatis. Alfred and Ivan Braginski were having their March Madness basketball games in the upcoming weekend, and the little-used basketball court at IAHF had been duly renamed to the Cold War Basketball Court.

"Hey, Mr…" Arthur called.

"Allen," Mr. Allen replied, unlocking his door. "What is it?" He raised an eyebrow at Alfred, who flashed him a grin.

"Thank you," Arthur coughed. "Anyways, we heard that one of the new students is your wife."

"I don't have a wife," Mr. Allen pointed out.

"Your historical wifey?" Alfred suggested, dribbling the ball through his legs.

"I said I don't have a wife, historical or otherwise!" snapped Mr. Allen. "Now, if you'll excuse me –"

"Allen! Has the fanbrats' collective stupidity rendered your mind incapable of inference?" Arthur growled. "If Mary Crawford is not your wife, then she must be your alter-ego's wife, isn't that so?"

"Arthur, April Fool's Day is only in a week. Surely you can wait a week," Mr. Allen complained before slamming the door in their faces.

"That ungrateful boy!" Arthur hissed, shocked by the abrupt end to their conversation. He and Alfred started heading back up the corridor once more.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Artie?" Alfred asked as he nonchalantly started spinning the basketball again.

"I can't read minds, you idiot." Arthur crossed his arms.

Alfred stopped the ball and did the universal cuckoo sign with his free hand.

Arthur raised both eyebrows. "Ah, I see now. It is getting more and more serious, I'll grant it that." He paused. "We have two options to fix it, though – combine the two personalities, or…"

"Or?" Alfred asked.

"No, the second one's too… I don't think we have the technology for it."

"Tell me anyways!"

"Fine. I was thinking that we could clone Mr. Allen, forcibly extract Mr. Hugh's personality, and implant that second personality in the clone's mind. Basically, we'd forcibly separate them into two different beings."

Alfred snorted. "What's so strange about that? We have our own clones running around here!"

"Yes, but this is the purposeful creation of a clone! It'll be more complicated." Arthur nodded. "But whatever we do, we need to do it fast. Having a half-mad Course Coordinator isn't going to be helpful in the current situation."

"It was funny at first," agreed Alfred. "We'll go talk to the shrink about it."

"Yes, we'll talk to the psychologist." The two of them lapsed into silence. "How is Project Roswell coming along?" Project Roswell was the official name for Mr. Allen's Evil Plan. The Staff used it to heighten the mysteriousness of said evil plan and to get the students morbidly curious about it. Shinbun-kun had been convinced (or more accurately speaking, blackmailed) not to spill anything about Project Roswell until Mr. Allen announced it to the students.

Alfred's eyes lit up. "Tony's got some awesome designs, Artie! Wanna see them? He printed some out and gave them to me! Come on!" He grabbed the Briton's hand and dragged him down the hall; they nearly collided with Italu and Itly as the two Mochi Nations bounced by with a strand of pasta between them. The minis at IAHF were Mochi Nations, and woe betides those who crossed them or tried to eat them. The last student who had attempted to eat a Mochi (a girl named Yumi, who had been responsible for Turnkey, a giant key that acted as the new guard to the Golag) had ended up in the Hospital Wing for two weeks. Mochi poison worked nasty wonders on the stomach.

But back to Alfred and Arthur. The two were quickly closeted away in Alfred's room (with the plaque 'THIS IS THE HERO'S ROOM! DANGER: DO NOT ENTER!' outside on the door), looking at several fantastically complicated designs that Alfred's alien friend, Tony, had created. "Did you know? The Pict aliens have agreed to help us with this project! Feliciano promised all of them markers in return for their help."

"Finally, you two are doing something right," Arthur remarked, looking intently at one byzantine design that looked suspiciously like Flying Mint Bunny.

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" complained Alfred. "Oh, and guess what? The Headmaster designed our outfits for Project Roswell already! See?" He bounced over to his desk and pulled out a book, brandishing it at Arthur. "Look!"

"I can't look at the outfits if you're waving them at me like that," Arthur snapped, taking the book from him and flipping through it. "Which ones?"

"We have the blue ones," replied Alfred, grinning from ear to ear. "Look, look! I get a pocket-watch! And you get a mini top hat!"

"But since when was I your Queen?" Arthur demanded, blushing furiously.

"It's just a suit of cards, Artie, chillax," Alfred muttered.

"But that's suggestive to the fangirls!" Arthur glared daggers at his outfit. "I like the design and everything, but…"

"Come on! You'll look great!" encouraged Alfred. "You'll look like an old man, but that's your style, so whatever."

Arthur smacked him. "Shut up, you imbecile!"

And with that, everything was well at IAHF.

For now.