It had been few days since the (cough 'Lullaby' cough) incident, and Iceland had been purposefully dodging anymore questions about Icelandic culture (most people didn't get it anyways) in a similar fashion to how he would ignore the looks from other countries whenever one of his volcanoes affected them ('You've grounded all of my airlines, you git!). He was passing by Harry and Ron's room when he heard a distinguishable retching noise coming from what was probably the Twins, and quickly backtracked to peek into the room, and was very confused by the sight of Mrs. Weasley's arms clenched around Ron's neck, and kissing him all over his face, which was quickly turning a brighter scarlet than Sweden's face when Finland would kiss him (quite the amusing sight, honestly).
"Mum... don't... Mum, get a grip..." he muttered, trying to push her away. As she let go and started to talk to Ron about getting him a reward, Iceland turned to Fred and George for answers.
"Should I ask what's going on?" the lithe boy asked, gaining the attention of the identical redheads.
"Ron's got a shiny new prefect badge."
"We thought it would be Harry for sure."
"Ah," Iceland said, not reacting, deciding to make his escape while he could. Just as he turned around, he heard Mrs. Weasley's voice ring out.
"Oh, Emil, you still have to go get your wand, why don't you come with me?" Shit. Iceland despised shopping with a passion. But, he was a polite person (a trait ingrained into him by Norway and Denmark back when they were required to take him to balls and England when the man stayed over for a bit during World War II), so he did the thing a good person would do.
"Sure."
Oh, how Iceland regretted his decision of saying yes. I mean, he would have had to do it eventually (*cough* that day, it was the day before he went to Hogwarts *cough*), but maybe during the weekdays when things were less crowded? Seemed like a good idea at the time. For the past hour Mrs. Weasley had been dragging him all over Diagon Alley, talking his ear off about how proud she was of Ron, so you can imagine how relieved he was when he saw someone he knew.
"Li Xiao! Leon, over here!" he called over the bustling crowd of Diagon Alley. A head of choppy chocolate colored hair started to turn his way, light brown eyes locking with Iceland's violet. With a few long strides, the teen had made his way over to the Icelander, casually waving a hand greeting.
"Yo, Emil," Hong Kong greeted, "How've you been? It's been a while."
"It definitely has been, and I'm good. You?"
"Fine," Hong Kong looked like he wanted to say something else, but was cut off by Mrs. Weasley.
"Oh, Emil, who is your friend here?" she asked, finally managing to pause in her chatter about Ron being chosen as a Prefect.
"This is Li Xiao, or Leon. He's one of my brother's colleagues younger brother." Well, technically China was also Iceland's colleague, but it's not like the albino really made an effort to get himself involved in the rest of the world's drama, and never really had a chance to work on any projects with the large nation. In all honesty, he had actually met Hong Kong through England. Denmark had dragged him over to the other island nation's house once to meet with the grumpy Brit and smooth out some trade deals about a century ago, thinking it would help the young territory learn the ropes of being a nation. That was were he met Hong Kong, who was and currently is a colony of England, planned to go back under China's sovereignty soon.
"Pleasure to meet you, Ma'am," Hong Kong said, politely bowing to Mrs. Weasley and snapping Iceland out of his musings. "Do you mind if I take Emil from you?"Mrs. Weasley hesitated for a second, contemplating.
"As long as you remember to go get your wand and stay safe. I need him back at the Leaky Cauldron by a quarter to six," She said, looking satisfied when Hong Kong nodded.
"Don't worry. Emil is safe with me," and with that, Mrs. Weasley smiled and tottered off. Iceland and Hong then proceeded to walk in comfortable silence towards Gringotts, neither being very sociable. That was when the dark haired teen broke the silence.
"What on Earth are you in Diagon Alley? Arthur sent me out to do some shopping for him."
"Mathias is sending me to Hogwarts. And aren't you going back to Yao soon?"
"That sucks. And I'm leaving in about two years."
"Well I guess that means no more short plane rides to visit each other."
"Nope," and the blanket of silence once again surrounded the two best friends, not ever needing many words to be exchanged to know how the other feels. They walked around like that for most of the day, occasionally pointing out something stupid to make the other laugh, sometimes stopping to buy ice cream. Hong Kong eventually resorted to 'Ice Ice Baby' to annoy Iceland enough to get him out of the bookstore.
"Ice."
"..."
"Ice."
"..."
"Ba—"
"Finish that sentence and I will destroy you, do you understand, Rice Rice Baby?"
"... I don't even like rice."
"Exactly."
And after that failed, Hong Kong just bodily dragged Iceland out after he had spent a good hundred galleons on literature. And finally, they reached Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C., shuddering slightly at the somehow off-putting tinkle of bells as they pushed open the door. Everywhere, there was one consistent theme. Boxes. Everywhere you looked there were boxes piled upon boxes.
"Boxes Incorporated," Hong Kong muttered to Iceland, making the small boy snort. A small old man, after about a minute, hobbled out from around the desk.
"Here for your first wands, are you? A bit old to start schooling," he said, his silvery eyes not blinking. Iceland figured he was 'Ollivander'.
"I already have one, I'm just accompanying him," Hong Kong said, gesturing to the albino.
"You must be Emil Steilsson then," Ollivander said, nodding to Iceland before turning back to Hong Kong. "And you are...?"
"Li Xiao Chun. But you may call me Leon," the teen said, shaking the elderly man's hand.
"Hmm... very interesting..." Ollivander said, staring at the two. "Well, let's get you measured up and then we'll begin," he said, pulling out two magic measuring tapes.
By the end of the measuring, Iceland was feeling distinctly uncomfortable, not knowing quite sure what half of the measurements were for (the space between his nostrils? Really?). Ollivander seemed to disappear into the piles of boxes that encompassed the shop, reappearing a few seconds later and shoving a wand towards Iceland.
"Here, try this one. Ten and a half inches, swishy. Birch and Unicorn hair." After a few seconds hesitation, Iceland wrapped his long fingers around the handle of the wood, which promptly began to crack. A moment later, the wand exploded. Ollivander had taken a few steps back after handing off the wand, and managed to avoid all injury, and Hong Kong had taken a seat near the door and had started to eat Iceland's ice cream. The boy in question, however, was not so lucky. Splinters from the tough birch wood had caused several slashes to appear across his cheeks (Ollivander was able provide a towel to put on his face until the cuts stopped bleeding [he wasn't able to heal them, since the source of the injury was from a 'wand trial.' Iceland had no idea what that meant, but whatever]), with a few caught in his hair or on his clothes. The blast had burned right through his pristine white gloves and a good inch off of his sleeves (revealing calloused and scarred hands from when Iceland was young and worked on the farms in his land), the rest being decently signed. He was mostly fine, except for the burns then adorning his hands. Iceland was about to snap at Mr. Ollivander, before Hong Kong said 'Keep Calm and Carry On,' earning a glare from his friend (Iceland was very sure England was a bad influence on Hong Kong). And thus, the wand games began.
The first one: obviously exploded, injuries sustained by test subject.
The second one: exploded one of Ollivander's lights, causing a rain of glass to pour upon the three in the room, with Ollivander being the only proficient enough in magic to quickly create an umbrella and avoid injury. Hong Kong and Iceland got identical cuts on opposite sides of their foreheads, which both thought was pretty neat. I mean, it hurt, but look at the silver lining, amiright?
The third one: dissolved into black powder, which Iceland was quick to wash off of his burned hands.
The fourth one: refused to go anywhere near Iceland, seeming to fly away each time the boy tried to grab it, eventually giving up. ('I know people generally avoid you, but not wands as well,' Hong Kong commented, getting smacked over the head by Iceland)
The fifth one: made boxes fly off the shelves. ('Boxes Incorporated is very efficient at shipping,' Iceland said, putting the oak wand back onto Ollivanders desk)
The sixth o—
"Mr. Ollivander?" Hong Kong said, disrupting the old man from disappearing back into the mountains of boxes, which were more untidy than they were when the two had entered the shop. "Maybe you should take a look at my wand to get an idea of what to give my friend before he destroys your whole shop," he said, handing over the lightly colored wood with beautiful carvings of Hong Kong orchid tree flowers spiraling around the wand to Ollivander.
"Hmm... Agarwood wood and a dual core of Chinese white dolphin heartstring and fur of the Giant Panda, eleven and one quarter inches... this wand seems tailored to suit people of a very specific land area... Tell me, I can't place either of your accents, where are you two from?" Ollivander asked after few minutes of turning the wand over in his hands and examining every inch of the magical conduit.
"I'm from Hong Kong, but I've been staying in London with a friend of my brother's for a few years to study abroad," Hong Kong said, quickly coming up with the lie off of the top of his head for his accent, that was sort of an odd hybrid between China's and England's.
"I'm from Iceland," Iceland said, looking disinterested as usual. Ollivander stared at the two for a few seconds before slowly nodding and handing Hong Kong's wand back before disappearing into the back of the shop, and did not reappear for a good half hour. The old man returned to the odd sight of Iceland and Hong Kong wrestling on the floor like the five year olds they were, the smaller yelling at the smirking dark haired teen for eating his ice cream. He cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the two teens, who quickly stood up and brushed themselves off.
"Try this," Ollivander said, handing a light brown wand with a spiral of white dryas that encompassed the base and faded halfway up to Iceland. "Gyrfalcon feather and the heartstring of a Norwegian Ridgeback. Willow, ten and a half inches, swishy. Very good for Charms." Iceland paused, holding the piece of wood awkwardly, not sure what to do (he was honestly quite sick of being injured by magical twigs). "Well, go on, give it a wave," Ollivander urged, waving his hands at the Icelander. The albino tentatively waved the wand, shocked as a warm feeling started to flow throughout his veins, as if he had suddenly traveled from his place to Australia. This lasted a few seconds before there was a quick flash of light and it faded, the sting in Iceland's burned hands had disappeared. Everybody in the shop had to blink for a few seconds trying to readjust their eyes. Iceland was shocked when he looked down at the wand to to see the burns on his hand had faded, and his confusion was quickly answered by Ollivander.
"Willow wood has healing powers," the man explained simply, Iceland just nodded, dumbfounded. The feeling had been strange, the wand seeming to be an extension of his arm. Iceland had grown up around wandless magic, used to things like magic circles and magical creatures (sure, both Denmark and Norway had wands, but Norway had his on a shelf, collecting dust except for the one time a year he would dust it off and Denmark generally lost his quite often [plus, both found wands tedious and clunky, preferring the ease of wandless spells]). Hong Kong just shook his head and paid the elderly man, dragging Iceland out of the store and into the bustling streets of Diagon Alley. The albino snapped out of his state of shock, tucking the wand into his coat, pulling on his the spare pair of gloves he carried around (he didn't want to ruin them with another exploding wand), and followed Hong Kong with a dazed look on his face, which did not go unnoticed. The dark haired teen smirked at Iceland.
"You know, my wand is longer than yours," Hong Kong said, twirling his own between his fingers. Iceland gave his friend a confused look before the beautiful rise of realization dawned over his face, whacking the laughing teen over the head while blushing furiously.
Mrs. Weasley and Iceland returned from Diagon Alley around six, having been delayed by the motherly woman fussing over the two best friends and how they got cuts all over their faces (well, there was really only one on Hong Kong, but whatever), laden with books and carrying a long package wrapped in thick brown paper that Ron took from her with a moan of longing.
"Never mind unwrapping it now, people are arriving for dinner, I want all of you downstairs," she said, but the moment she was out of sight Ron ripped off the paper in a frenzy and examined every nch of his new broom, an ecstatic expression on his face. Iceland had no idea what the big deal was, but it wasn't his problem.
Down in the basement Mrs. Weasley had hung a scarlet banner over the heavily laden dinner table, which read CONGRATULATION RON AND HERMIONE — NEW PREFECTS. She looked in a better mood than Iceland had seen her the whole month he had been staying there.
"I thought we'd have a little party , not a sit down dinner," she told Iceland, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny as they entered the room. "Your father and Bill are on their way, Ron, I've sent them both owls and they're thrilled," she added, beaming.
Iceland and the twins rolled their eyes.
Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, and Kingsley Shacklebolt (whom Iceland had met a few days after he had arrived) were already there and a heavily scarred man with a limp and a part of his nose missing stumped in shortly after Iceland had got himself a butterbeer.
"Oh, Alastor, I am glad you're here," said Mrs. Weasley brightly, as 'Alastor' shrugged off his traveling cloak. "We've been wanting to ask you for ages — could you have a look in the writing desk in the drawing room and tell us what's inside it? We haven't wanted to open it just in case it's something really nasty."
"No problem, Molly..."
Alastor's electric blue fake glass eye (which Iceland had only just noticed and found a slight bit creepy [he figured this was the rumored 'Mad-Eye Moody' that he had heard about when mentioned in conversations]) swiveled upward and stared fixedly though the ceiling of the kitchen.
"Drawing room..." he growled, as the pupil contracted. "Desk in the corner? Yeah, I see it... Yeah, it's a boggart... Want me to go up and get rid of it, Molly?"
"No, no, I'll do it myself later," beamed Mrs. Weasley, reminding Iceland of Finland's can-do attitude. "You have your drink. We're having a little bit of a celebration, actually..." She gestured at the scarlet banner. "Fourth prefect in the family!" she said fondly, ruffling Ron's hair.
"Prefect, eh?" growled Moody, his normal eye on Ron and is magical eye swiveling around to gaze into the side of his head. Iceland had the very uncomfortable feeling it was looking at him and quickly busying himself with his butterbeer, trying to ignore the feeling.
"Well, congratulations," said Moody, still glaring at Ron with his normal eye, "authority figures always attract trouble, but I suppose Dumbledore thinks you can withstand most major jinxes or he wouldn't have appointed you..."
Ron looked rather startled at this view of the matter but was saved the trouble of responding by the arrival of his father and eldest brother. Mrs. Weasley was in such a good mood she did not even complain that they had brought Mundungus with them too; he was wearing a long overcoat that seemed oddly lumpy in unlikely places and declined the offer to remove it and put it with Moody's traveling cloak.
"Well, I think a toast is in order," said Mr. Weasley, when everyone had a drink. He raised his goblet. "To Ron and Hermione, the new Gryffindor prefects!"
Ron and Hermione beamed as everyone drank to them and then applauded.
"I was never a prefect myself," said Tonks brightly from across the room behind Harry as everybody moved toward the table to help themselves to food. Her hair was tomato-red and waist length that day; she looked like Ginny's older sister. "My Head of House said I lacked certain necessary qualities."
"Like what?" said Ginny, who was choosing a baked potato.
"Like the ability to behave myself," said Tonks.
Ginny laughed; Hermione looked as though she did not know whether to smile or not and compromised by taking an extra large gulp of butterbeer and choking on it. Iceland cracked a grin, but decided to slide away in the direction of Fred and George, who were huddled in a corner with Mundungus.
Mundungus stopped talking when he saw Iceland, but Fred winked and beckoned Harry closer.
"It's okay," he told Mundungus, "we can trust Emil, we have dirt on him so he can't tell anybody," he said, referring to the time Iceland and Denmark got drunk together, which in the UK, might be able to bring up a case for child neglect.
"Look what Dung's gotten us," said George, holding out his hand to Iceland. It was full of what looked like shriveled black pods. A faint rattling noise was coming from them, even though they were completely stationary.
"Venomous Tentacula seeds," said Iceland dully, recognizing them and shocking Fred and George, who were not expecting the Icelander to know what they were. "Unless you want to make somebody have an uncontrollable nose bleed, I would recommend adding some Romanian Zengweed, because at least that will stop bleeding after while. Unless you two are planning to kill people by letting them bleed out," he said, casually leaning against the wall, glancing over to the side to see the twins, who were looking at each other, having a silent conversation. Fred continued to negotiate a price with Mundungus while George leaned against the wall next to Iceland.
"Interested in a partnership? We could use someone with your encyclopedia of a brain," George muttered, keeping an eye one Mrs. Weasley and Moody, the two people who were the most likely to get them in trouble if found out.
"Give me one good reason."
"Satisfaction of seeing people like Snape covered in pink glitter that can't wash off," he replied, knowing Iceland had met the man and didn't particularly like him.
"Do you have any idea how to make a letter explode like a firework?"
"Not yet, but with you we could probably work it out." Iceland paused for a second contemplating.
"I can live with that. Deal," he said, shaking George's hand before casually walking away to get some food. As he busied himself with a filling a plate, he failed to notice he was standing next to Moody, who seemed to be staring intently at the boy.
"Quite the collection of scars you've got there, boy." Iceland startled, instantly spinning around, holding out the knife he had been holding like a weapon, hand halfway to his coat reaching for the wand he had gotten earlier that day before realizing who had spoken. His face flushed as he quickly put the knife back onto to the plate.
"I'm really sorry about that, I didn't mean to, you just startled me..." To say Iceland was surprised when Moody replied with a booming laugh was an understatement.
"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" the man shouted, heartily thumping Iceland on the back, causing the boy to stumble.
"Sorry, but I didn't quite catch what you said earlier..." Iceland said, not quite sure to make of the man.
"I said that was quite the collection of scars of you have on your body." Iceland quickly paled, feeling around the collar of his dress shirt, trying to see if it had slipped and if anybody could see the scars of his history and land that adorned the boy's body.
"H-how do you know about that?"
"Not the problem here, boy. What I want to know is how someone as young as you looks as if he's fought in a war." Iceland panicked for a second, his mind racing a thousand miles to find an excuse.
"We have a lot of extreme sports where I'm from, and accidents happen so..." he spluttered, hoping the man would buy it. Moody narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Iceland, who breathed a sigh of relief when Mood walked away.
Mrs. Weasley yawned widely.
"Well, I think I'll sort out that boggart before I turn in... Arthur, I don't want this lot to stay up too late, all right? 'Night, Harry, dear."
She left the kitchen, and Iceland chose to follow, deciding that maybe an early night would help his mind sort through the day's events.
The pale boy was half way through buttoning his pajama top when he heard a loud sob emit from down the hall. Abandoning the task at hand, he stepped out into the hallway, following the choking sound of someone crying. Someone was sobbing in the drawing room.
"Hello?" Iceland said.
There was no answer but the sobbing continued. He fast waslked the rest of the way across the landing, and opened the drawing room door.
Someone was cowering against the dark wall, her wand in her hand, her whole body shaking with sobs. Sprawled on the dusty old carpet, clearly dead, was Ron. Iceland narrowed his eyes, having just seen the boy downstairs.
"Mrs. Weasley?" Iceland asked, addressing the crying woman in the room.
"R-r-riddikulus!" Mrs, Weasley sobbed, pointing her shaking wand at Ron's body.
Crack.
Ron's body turned into Bill's, spread-eagles but his back, his eyes wide open and empty. Mrs. Weasley sobbed harder than ever.
R-riddikulus!" She sobbed again.
Crack.
Mr. Weasley's body replaced Bill's, his glasses askew, a trickle of blood running down his face. Iceland suddenly understood. This was the boggart everybody had mentioned. Taking quick steps to cross the room, Iceland kneeled in front of Mrs. Weasley ,gripping the woman's shoulder and trying to make her look at him and not the corpses.
"Mrs. Weasley. Listen to me, this isn't real. Ron is downstairs, so isn't Bill and mr. Weasley, everybody is fine." Mrs. Weasley's grip on reality seemed to come bac her sniffles quieted down, but was focused on something over Iceland's shoulder a sore another loud crack rang out. Iceland ignored it until he heard a loud crash of something breaking behind him.
"I HATE YOU, I HATE THIS HOUSE, I HATE ALL OF YOU!" Suddenly rang out in a a loud, surprisingly clear baritone voice as Iceland turned his head, eyes widening as gen saw Denmark punch Sweden. A cacophony of yells in different Nordic languages erupted as a bloody fight escalated between Norway, Denmark, Finland and Sweden, not a single one of them seeming to hesitate in the slightest as they tore eachother apart physically and verbally.
Iceland remembered this. Sweden's rebellion against Denmark, just before the Kalmar Union dissolved. Iceland had been in the corner, covering the ears of Greenland and Faroe Islands, the two being extremely young, rocking them as he tried to ignore the yells and cracks of the Nordics punching each other, the crashes of both ceramic and wooden plates being tossed around. The color drained from his face as he stared the memory down, not hearing the quick patter of feet coming down the hall.
"Mrs. Weasley, Emil, just get out of here!" shouted Harry, staring in shock as he watched the normally cheery Denmark tear apart what looked to be his family. "Let someone else -"
"What's going on?"
Lupin had come running into the room, closely followed by Sirius, with Moody stumping along behind them. Lupin looked from the bloody fight to Mrs. Weasley to the almost translucent Iceland and seemed to understand in an instant. Pulling out his own wand said, very firmly and clearly, "Riddikulus!"
The Nordic fight vanished. A silvery orb hung in the air in the center of where it had taken place. Lupin waved his wand once more and the orb vanished in a puff of smoke. Lupin started to comfort Mrs. Weasley about how it was only a boggart and wasn't really was as Iceland shakily stood up, holding the upper part of his pajama top closed (having abandoned the task of buttoning it to investigate Mrs. Weasley's sobs) and quickly pushed past Moody, Harry and Sirius, two of whom were looking ant him with concern. The third, not so much.
"Mind explains what that was, boy?" Moody's gruff voice rang out from behind him. Iceland stopped in the middle of the hallway, staring at the floor, the neckline on his top giving the three behind him a clear view of the puckered scar crawling up his spine, representing Lakagígar.
"Not particularly, no"
"Well, I recommend you come clean," Moody continued, the heavy thump, thump, thump on the floor telling Iceland the man was coming closer, "because that seems to give a whole different story to those marks than what you told me." Iceland looked over his shoulder to glade at all three, making Sirius and Harry recoil slightly while Moody stood his ground. People say his name is misleading, but honestly? His glare was so full of ice I thought would make Norway and Sweden jealous.
"Well, I recommend you learn what the word 'no' means, since you seem to have trouble with it. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to sleep," Iceland hissed, whipping his head around and stomping back to his room, slamming the door shut behind him.
Okay, I am a in sorry this took so long to get out! I really have no excuse for this. I mean, I managed to write three thousand words of a chapter where Iceland has to go see England's for some reason I can't remember, but then I realized that plot was kind of going no where, since we are now seven chapters in and still at Grimmauld place, so I scrapped it and spent a whole week trying to figure out how I wanted to write this, even though pretty much my final thoughts before making any desicions in the plot while I was writing it (cough improvising as I went along cough) was 'fuck it.'
Also, if you are wondering about either wand, here is a quick explanation, written by me at midnight after not sleeping all weekend off of what I can remember.
Hong Kong: the name comes from 'fragrant harbor' (don't ask me how, I can't remember off of the top of my head), as it is one of the top producers (exporters? I don't really know, please don't get offended if you're from Hong Kong) of afar wood in the world. Hong Kong orchid tree flower is the city flower, as well as the one on their flag (look it up, they're really pretty). Chinese white dolphins are found in the waters are Hong Kong (I think, I couldn't really find much of anything that was in English), and since a lot of people go with the idea of nations having dual cores whenever they get a wand in a Harry Potter fanfiction, I just decided on the Giant Panda, since I couldn't find any other significant mention of any other animal, and people commonly draw Hong Kong with a panda, so like every other decision on this chapter, I went 'fuck it why not.'
Iceland: white dryas is the national flower, and Willow is a type of tree found in Iceland, and, after reading through 'Ollivander's notes on wand woods' on Pottermore (where has my life gone) I decided this was the best fit. Gyrfalcon is the national bird/animal/I know I should but I'm too lazy to look up which. The Norwegian Ridgeback is to symbolise the Norwegian settlement that started Iceland, mainly Norwegians leaving Norway when they didn't like the government, so I tried to symbolise that with this (plus I couldn't find sufficient information on many Icelandic mythical creatures other than elves, and I don't think anybody wants to see that). It was easier to research than Hong Kong's, at least
And now that I am done boring you with telling you about how this chapter was produced, I think it's time to end this authors note and upload this.
Until next chapter, Hasta la Pasta!