Chapter Seven

A/N: I have no excuses. I just hope that you enjoy this chapter.


"Jesus Christ, Alfred what are you trying to prove? If you get chosen then you can put everyone in danger of being found out. But, you just don't care, do you? As long as you're the bloody hero." The confrontation with England was on America's mind. His words were constantly replaying in the American nation's head, making him feel guiltier and guiltier.

"You just don't care, do you? As long as you're the bloody hero." The words cut deeper more than America cared to admit, and they were true. In that particular moment, America hadn't cared. He hadn't cared about England or his brother Canada, or any of the other nations. He'd just cared about himself. And what was he trying to prove? That he was as strong as Russia? As brave as Germany? As smart as England? In all honesty, America didn't know what he was trying to prove. He had just wanted…He'd just wanted others to see that he wasn't as stupid or naïve as they thought he was. He knew that his motive was selfish and he hadn't cared. He cared now, though, thanks to England.

America hadn't gone back to the Great Hall to join the others; instead, he had retreated to his bed in the Gryffindor dorm. He was certainly regretting that idea, his stomach rumbled in protest at not being fed and he was tempted to go and get something to eat. This temptation fizzled out when he thought of how annoyed the other nations would be with him. Despite his love for an argument, it wasn't as fun when the yelling was directed towards him.

He was curled up into a ball on his bed, feeling ridiculously sorry for himself. He wished that he hadn't put his name in that cup thing, but what's done is done and now he had to suck it up like a hero! America scoffed, hero, that's what caused all of the drama in the first place. How was he supposed to be a hero when he couldn't even sort out his own problems? He should go and sort this out! Yes, he should go downstairs, all brave and determined and apologise. That's what a hero would do and that's what America would do! Well, he'd do it tomorrow, anyway. For now, America was okay with feeling sorry for himself. He pulled the quilt over himself and flopped his head down on the pillow. The hero was currently out of action.


Neville Longbottom had probably had one of the best days of the year! The Gryffindor whistled a melodious tune as he made his way up to the Gryffindor common room. The reason for Neville's sudden happiness? Well, he couldn't specify; it had just been a good day. It felt as if he had drunk a whole bottle of Felix Felicis… whatever the hell that was. For one thing, a whole day had passed without him getting shoved, called names or relentlessly teased by any Slytherins which was a miracle in itself. He had also made new friends in the form of the new transfer students, namely the Hufflepuffs. Feliciano, Antonio and Tino had all been especially nice to the bumbling teen. He supposed that the foul-mouthed Italian named Lovino had also tried his best to be "nice."

He'd also had decent lessons that day: Herbology and Defence Against the Dark Arts. He loved Herbology because well, he was good at it, gifted maybe. Defence Against the Dark Arts was a lot better now because he got on with his teacher. Professor Moody had treated him well after his lesson on the Unforgivable Curses- a lesson that Neville was none too eager to repeat. But, that was in the past now and Neville was more then happy to move on.

Neville came to a standstill as he stood in front of the Fat Lady. This was often Neville's lowest part of the day. After the strain of school, all Neville would want was to sleep, but he would always have to wait as he often forgot the password. The Staircase was quiet. It was as if Hogwarts was silent only for him. If he listened closely he could hear the chatter from the Great Hall and the low, but steady mechanics of the moving staircases. He uttered the password and another miracle occurred. He got it right, and on the first time too!

Neville beamed as he stepped into the quiet, cosy area that was the Gryffindor Common Room. It seemed like he was the only one there and Neville made his way up the stairs and into his dorm. He took his robe off and placed it next to his bed only to feel his entire body stiffen. There was something in the room with him. Neville felt inside the robe's pocket and pulled out his wand, gripping it firmly with clammy, trembling fingers. He whipped around. The thing was on Alfred's bed!

Neville didn't stop to think what if the thing is actually Alfred? Nor did he think maybe I should check it out before casting. The truth is, Neville didn't think. He raised his wand and pointed it directly at the thing that was under Alfred's quilt.

"Pertrificus Totalus!"

The thing stiffened and Neville began to approach it. With great trepidation, Neville pulled back the quilt to reveal…To reveal…The shocked, frozen face of Alfred F. Jones, the new transfer student.


"Oh!" Neville squealed before rushing to Alfred's side. "I'm sorry! Oh, I didn't mean to! I don't know if you can hear me or not, but I thought you were some kind of horrible monster! I'm really sorry, Alfred! Please forgive me!" The brunette begged, truly sorry.

"Damn, that was weird!" America bolted upright, his blue eyes still wide with shock. "What the hell did you do, Neville?"

Neville backed off and perched on the end of his own bed. "I just cast a body-binding spell. I thought you were someone else… I'm sorry." Neville's green eyes were watering, threatening a spillage of tears.

"It's okay," America sighed. "Sorry for snapping, I've just had a really rough day."

"Why? What's wrong?" Neville looked genuinely concerned and America needed to talk to someone about it, so he did.

Careful to not give away his identity, America began to open up.

"I did something really selfish and stupid." America sighed and Neville motioned for him to continue. "Someone told me some really good advice and I ignored it. I didn't care because I was only thinking of myself. And now, I think that person hates me and that's not good because I don't hate him."

America paused as if searching for the next words. "In fact, I really like him, y'know?" Neville nodded and America smiled softly. "I just… Don't know what to do now." America finished and looked to Neville for an answer.

"Why don't you just find him and apologise?" Neville felt like that was a reasonable answer, though, the American had probably already thought of doing just that.

America grinned and bolted up off the bed. "Good idea, Neville! You are officially my favourite sidekick! See ya' later, buddy!" With that, America rushed out of the dorm leaving a thoroughly confused and slightly flustered Neville alone in the dorm.

Well… Thought Neville. That was weird…


Whilst America was suffering deep emotional conflict, a group of nations were exploring around Hogwarts. Spain, Romano, Italy, Germany, France and Prussia had decided to go on a walk around the giant school in order to, hopefully, find out more about their mysterious school.

Currently, the six nations were caught in an awkward silence. None of them really had anything interesting to say. After all, there is only so much socialising you can actually do when you live forever.

"So," France began, breaking the silence. "Have any of you heard about this He Who Shall Not Be Named guy?"

Germany and Prussia nodded, but the three Hufflepuffs just looked confused.

"They talk about him a lot in Gryffindor." Germany shrugged.

"But who is he? Is he scary?" Italy cried, clinging onto Germany's arm.

"Will you get off him?" Romano hissed, pulling at his brother. "For fuck's sake, explain who this guy is then."

France sighed and flipped his hair. "He's a dark wizard who hates "muggles" and he thinks that wizards are superior especially pure-blooded wizards. You know, I think that Arthur and Lukas would class as pure-bloods, but I'm not sure. He started a big war about fourteen years ago where he gathered a large army and they began to destroy all of the opposing wizard families. One of these families were the Potters. The Dark Lord killed James and Lily Potter, but failed to kill little Harry Potter and he fled where he then presumably crumbled and died or something."

The three Hufflepuffs all looked shocked. Wide-eyed, Spain asked, "Is that the same Harry that's in our year?"

France nodded gravely. "The very same."

"Poor kid," Romano mumbled, causing the other five nations to stare at him. "What? I'm allowed to be fucking sympathetic too, you know!"

"How do you know all of this?" Spain asked the two Slytherins.

"That dickwad Draco goes on about him all of the time. He's always talking about how everything would be better if Voldemort was still alive," Prussia grumbled, narrowing his eyes. He really hated that Draco kid.

Italy gasped. "I thought you weren't supposed to say his name! Gilbert, you said his name! Oh, Ludwig does that mean Gilbert's going to be cursed? I don't want Gilbert to be cursed!" Italy cried, now wrapping his arms around Germany's firm torso.

"No, Feli, he's not going to be cursed," Germany reassured, patting Italy's head comfortingly.

"Now look at what you've done. You've made him upset," Germany scolded his brother who just rolled his eyes and shrugged in response.

The six nations continued to walk the corridors but stopped when they heard whispered mutterings coming from the door next to them. Germany put his index finger to his lips in a shush gesture and the other nations complied.

"They're different. I know they're different," a voice hissed with urgency. The nations couldn't identify the voice, they doubted that they'd even heard it before.

"You mean The Dark Lord told you that they're different," a familiar nasal voice drawled. The nations knew that voice. It was none other than the infamous Professor Severus Snape.

"Who cares? The fact is that they're not normal. They're countries!" The six nations could literally feel their hearts pounding. The secret they'd been trying so hard to conceal was already coming out. It was a dilemma.

"Even if this information is correct, which I highly doubt, what are you planning on doing about it?" That was Snape again.

"I'm not planning on doing anything about it. It's the Dark Lord that wants them. " That voice was starting to scare the six nations. It was sinister and dark.

Snape sighed slightly, and there was a long pause. The nations assumed that he was thinking. "Who does he want?"

The six felt their mouths go dry and their blood turn cold. Were they talking about kidnapping?

"The superpower (the one in the prophecy) and the one who possesses the magic of infinite power. I don't quite understand it, but you must know who I mean, I am sure."

"I know who you mean. They will be sent. It will be done. Now leave," Snape ordered and the nations began to move as they heard footsteps approaching the door.

"Move, move!" Germany hissed and they all fled down the corridor.


"Why are we all in the hall again?" Denmark complained as he sat down at one of the tables.

"Because it's the day of the choosing ceremony today, idiot," Norway replied in his monotone voice.

"This will be exciting!" Finland chirped. Sweden smiled fondly in response.

"No, this will not be exciting," England's voice cut in like a knife. "I bloody can't believe that this ceremony is today. Alfred only put his name in the Goblet five hours ago. Trust him to pick the last possible moment," grumbled England.

"Aw, I thought that you'd forgiven me," pouted America childishly. "Artie, you can't go back on your word!"

"No," objected England, "I said I've forgiven you as long as you don't get chosen."

America folded his arms and poked his tongue out. "It's the same thing!"

"Alfred…" A quiet voice whispered his name and America was about to panic until he realised that it was just Canada.

"Yeah, bro?"

"You won't get chosen, will you?" Canada whispered, sounding worried.

"Nah, bro," America breezed, "Anyway if I do then I can totally handle myself!" He caught England glaring at him and backtracked. "Not that I want to get chosen or anything! No siree."

"Attention students!" Dumbledore was stood at the podium. The respectable headmasters of Durmstang and Beauxbatons were seated just behind him.

"Tonight we announce the chosen champions that will participate in the Triwizard Tournament. As you all know, many students have entered their names into the Goblet of Fire and only those who possess the courage, the bravery and resilience necessary for a tournament of this type will be selected. Now, the time has come to announce our champions."

The students of Beauxbatons, Durmstang and Hogwarts applauded and the Goblet produced its first slip of paper. Dumbledore caught it with a flourish and the students waited with bated breath to see who had been chosen.

"For Durmstang: Viktor Krum!" The Durmstang students whooped and cheered as Viktor, who was looking pretty pleased with himself, went with Karkaroff to the back room.

The second piece of paper fluttered delicately from the Goblet and Dumbledore announced the second champion.

"For Beauxbatons: Fleur Delacour!" Now the students from Beauxbatons broke into applause as Fleur followed Madame Maxime to the backroom.

It was time for the third champion to be announced, this time for Hogwarts. The nations were perhaps the tensest group in the hall; they just wanted it to be over. They were waiting for the announcement of the champion and for the moment when they could all breathe a collective sigh of relief.

The piece of paper spurted from the Goblet and as Dumbledore read, his eyes narrowed in concentration. The whole school seemed to be waiting in anticipation for the announcement.

"For Hogwarts: Alfred F. Jones!" This time, there was no applause. Only stunned silence with every student thinking the same thing. Alfred was too young, it was against the rules. Was the Goblet stupid? But, Dumbledore had cast an age line…

"No!" The screech broke the silence and the students of Hogwarts all turned their heads to the source of the sound, a transfer student named Arthur Kirkland.

"Sir, he's not old enough!" England protested, despite knowing that Dumbledore knew who they all really were.

"I know Arthur, but rules are rules so please sit down," Dumbledore replied sternly. "Alfred, come with me please."

As Alfred stood up to walk to the backroom, a great protest took up from behind him, but he didn't listen. He was only thinking one thing: I'm so sorry, England.


"But, who were they talking about?" Spain began. "What did they say, again?"

"They said the superpower who's been in a prophecy and the one who possesses the magic of infinite power- whatever that means," France replied glumly as they rushed down the labyrinth of corridors to find England.

"I think I know who they're talking about. At least, I know one of them," Germany replied calmly despite the fact that his heart was pounding at an alarming rate.

"No duh, potato bastard. It doesn't take a fucking genius to know that 'superpower' probably means Alfred. He's the strongest out of all of us." Romano snarkily replied. "We have to fucking figure out who the other one is, though, and what the prophecy is."

"Can we not argue?" Prussia interrupted, sounding exasperated.

"There's Arthur!" Italy announced, pointing. The other five nations were looking in the direction of Italy's point and, yes, there was England conversing with Japan and Canada. He looked extremely annoyed. Not a good sign.

The six nations approached England who turned to them with a look of pure venom. "What on Earth do you morons want?" he snapped.

"Arthur we have to-" France began but was cut off.

"You know what Francis, you can shut it because I am not in the mood for your bloody shit! We have a colossal problem, which you would already know about if you had actually turned up to the hall like you were supposed to."

"No, Arthur we really need to talk to you!" Prussia yelled, not bothering to quiet down.

"I don't care!" England replied.

Germany sent a pleading look over to Japan."Kiku, please get him to listen."

Japan sighed, but turned to England. "Arthur, you need to calm down and listen to Ludwig, I'm sure what he's got to say is important."

England took a deep breath and sighed. "Fine. What is it?"

"You're not going to like it," Germany began, hesitantly, "it's bad news."

"Well, what is it?" England demanded, impatiently.

"We believe there's an evil plot, led by He Who Must Not Be Named, to kidnap Alfred and possibly someone else." The six nations plus Canada and Japan all stood as far from England as possible, knowing that there was going to be some kind of explosion. Maybe he would just spontaneously combust.

"Oh for bloody fucks sake! Why the fuck is this happening now? For the love of the Doctor, the Queen and the Prime Minister, where did I go wrong?" England was in a rage and no-one was going to stop him.

A similar thought ran through the minds of all of the nations: once they had finished this year at Hogwarts, they were going to have to get England a therapist.


A/N: Well, that's that chapter done!

I wanna say thanks to anyone who's followed, favourited and reviewed. I love all of chu guys! *Gives cookies to all of you*

Anyway, this story's really started to pick up. So please try and stick with it despite my bad updating!

So, who do you think is the one who possesses the magic of infinite power? You can probably all guess. :3 A clue: If it's obvious then it's probably correct.

If you're feeling generous then please review!

Thanks!

~BooksAreLikeChocolateButBetter.