Chapter 30

Advice

England

After hearing about Harry's failure on trying to get into the room that the Room of Requirements becomes for Malfoy, England merely nodded; he didn't expect Harry to be able to get what he wanted that easily anyway.

The days went past, nothing new. Usual brutal murders, usual coughs, and usual brutal essay assignments. England could swear that the number of essays had doubled over the past few months. Perhaps the teachers were trying to distract students from the Daily Prophet and all the bad news it brings by keeping them occupied with work.

England dotted the last full stop on his essay and stretched, and his bones made a cracking noise as he did so. Malcolm looked at England in response to hearing his bones cracking.

"I think you broke your bones."

"I'm pretty sure most sixth-years' bones crack like that," Graham said nonchalantly, "That is our future, my dear friend."

"Indeed it is," England said. England did have years and years of paperwork stacked on top of his body and so his bones, and so people may think his bones were more crack-y than the normal human being, but England would disagree. Any high schooler around the world, unless they gave up on studying, would have very crack-y bones. One stretch and there goes their shoulders, crack-y-dee – cracky – crack. Stand up? There goes their hips and their backbones.

Though, it was true that China's bones tended to crack more than any other nation due to his age.

England thought about the numerous times China cracked his back and snorted out a laugh. He could almost hear China saying 'Aiiyaaaa.'

"What may thee be snortin' about?" Graham said, "My humble self wishes to know."

"Why are you talking like that?" Malcolm said, "That isn't even proper old-ish."

"Just feel like it. Probably the fault of this essay I'm writing," Graham said.

"Huh," Malcolm said, and looked at England, "Soooo what did you snort about?"

"Why are you two so curious about why I snorted?" England said.

"We're writing essays, Arthur, we want anything that may be entertaining," Malcolm said.

"…I was thinking of some…" England trailed off, trying to find the right word. Co-workers? No. Erm… "…Friends…?"

"You got some muggle friends?" Malcolm asked enthusiastically, making England think that he really didn't want to continue writing that essay.

"Yes," England said, though they were not, "What essay is that? Why are you so desperate to not write it?"

"It's Snape's," Graham answered in a monotone voice, and England nodded, understanding why the two had dread written on their faces.

"Well, good luck with that essay," England said, standing up from the sofa, "I'm heading up to bed."

"Noooooo, fellow studennntt," Malcolm said in an overdramatic way, "Don't leave us here to sufferrr."

"I'm done with mine," England said, "And I wish to sleep. Goodbye, and good night."

"We're probably not going to sleep though," Malcolm said, a single teardrop falling out of his left eye.

"Not if you keep on procrastinating," England said just that and went up to his dorm, leaving the devastated Malcolm and tired Graham behind.

-0-0-0-

After a few days, England came across a very jolly Harry, a smile plastered on his face and a joyful aura was beaming out of him. Harry was running up to England, waving his hands energetically, his invisibility cloak failing about by his side as he ran.

England frowned at the unusually joyful Harry – he was quite stressed these days because of Slughorn and Malfoy.

"What's going on?" England asked Harry as soon as Harry was within hearing range, backing up from the overly energetic Harry instinctively.

"I'm going over to Hagrid's – oh yeah he said to bring you, and Lukas along too if possible! Hermione, Ron and Vlad isn't coming though – I mean we don't all fit under the cloak -"

"Slow down, Harry," England said, backing up from Harry a bit more.

"Oh yeah ok," Harry said.

"So, Hagrid's?"

"Yep. Aragog's dead, and he's burying him."

"And…?"

"I've got a good feeling about it. Wanna come with?"

"Uhh, sorry, but I have wo-"

"Work! Of course! Good luck with that. See you tomorrow!"

Harry then rushed away, pulling his cloak back on. That super-hyper sugar-rush version Harry was the last version of Harry England saw before Harry entered the Great Hall the next morning, back to the calm but sassy and a tad bit gloomy version of Harry. England only got to know why Harry was so energetic the last day during free period.

"The potion of luck. Should've guessed," England said.

"Yes, that potion made me feel… good," Harry said.

"It sounds you're referring to a drug," Romania commented, and Harry snickered a little before returning his face into a serious one and talking about how he got Slughorn's memory and the 7 horcruxes.

Riddle's diary on Harry's second year at Hogwarts. That was a horcrux, and as Dumbledore told the nations before, the Gaunt ring was another.

And there were five more. And two of them were probably related to Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.

SEVEN.

England now had an explanation to why Voldemort looked like mashed potatoes molded into a shape of a head by a five-years-old.

England sighed out loud when Harry finished explaining and resisted the urge to ram his head into the wall and knock himself out.

"SO."

England put his two hands together in a Sherlock Holmes-like way and looked straight at his hands.

"You're going to destroy horcruxes with Dumbledore."

"Yes."

"…And there's bloody five more to go."

"…Yes."

"So basically, I've got more months of suffering to live through, since it is highly unlikely that you two would locate and destroy all the horcruxes and kill Voldemort in a month or two."

"Also yes."

Norway silently patted England on the back. While England was sulking, Harry decided to throw in more news.

"Oh, and Ron and Lavender broke up. Ginny and Dean too."

"Finally," Norway muttered under his breath – Norway had been extremely… bothered to say the least by Lavender and her fanatics with Ron.

"And Katie's back."

"…Exactly how many things happened between your 'luck rush' and this present moment? This is a lot. This is as if it is a chapter of a darn book," England complained and stood up straight as he had been leaning against a wall. "…I'm going to see Dumbledore."

England felt irritation towards Dumbledore. Harry, following Dumbledore around to hunt for horcruxes. Harry, a boy. A teenager. England thought it was not like him to be annoyed at Dumbledore for such things. Harry was the Chosen One after all – England knew Harry was burdened with that title. However, England was still bothered. England could guess why he felt such way, but he did not want to admit.

"Would Dumbledore be in his office right now?" Harry wondered out loud.

"Harry, Dumbledore probably expected you to tell us and therefore didn't call us in separately. He is, therefore, probably expecting us to show up at his office, asking about what you just told us. You go prepare for the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match, Harry. It is quite the topic these days – by the way, I'm rooting for Gryffindor. Sorry, Lukas. But Harry's can't be the first Gryffindor captain to lead the team into last place."

"No offense taken," Norway said.

"I'm sure Ravenclaw can get another chance next year," Romania said.

"Ravenclaw hasn't lost yet," Norway said, and Romania shrugged with a playful smile on his face.

"You two coming to Dumbledore's?" England asked the other two nations, and the two shook their heads, telling England to just fill them in later.

-0-0-0-

England's shoes made satisfying sounds as he walked up the stairs to Dumbledore's Office.

When England opened the office door after a few knocks, he saw Scotland.

"Why is that you are always here when I come here?" England said, making a frown. Scotland just smirked in his stylistic way.

"It's just this fanfic writer forgetting to make me appear and trying to make me appear," Scotland said. To that, England just frowned even more. Scotland was talking nonsense. The writer didn't forget about Scotland! The writer merely couldn't find another appropriate moment for Scotland's appearance.

England ignored Scotland and looked straight at Dumbledore, saying, "Seven. Seven horcruxes, correct?"

"Correct, my dear England," Dumbledore said calmly.

"Don't call me 'my dear England,' Dumbledore," England said, "I'm here to question why you're making Harry tag along with you. Harry is still just a teenager."

"A child of the prophecy, at the same time," Dumbledore said.

"Wee bro, Dumbledore's right on this one," Scotland said, "Harry needs to… I suppose I should say 'trained.'"

"Harry's had enough real-life experience for a teenager, don't you think?"

"England, this fate has been bestowed upon Harry, and for him to survive the final battle with Voldemort-"

"He needs to be experienced, I get it," England said, irritated by this whole situation. He cursed himself for being away from the magical community for so long. Maybe if he hadn't, he could've stopped Tom Riddle before he became Voldemort.

But there was no point in regretting. What is is what is. England re-thought his thoughts, and he came across why he was feeling so irritated by Harry diving into the dangers of hunting horcruxes – there was no way Voldemort hid them in a flower field – he tried to ignore it, but he had to admit that reason in his mind.

He was thinking of Harry, along with all the other mortal friends he had met there at Hogwarts, as friends. Close friends, pals, all that.

'America, I advise you to… step away from being friends with humans.'

'Why?'

'…'

Because it can hurt.

'…Just because.'

And because I don't want you to be hurt.

How foolish of himself, England thought. He was going against that advice once again.

"…Engla-"

"I know, and I'm going," England said, cutting off Scotland.

With that, England exited the office, slamming the door behind him like an angsty and angry teenage boy who's going through his emo stage.

-0-0-0-

Goodbye fourth wall, I suppose.

-PotterheadNo.04