Hello all! Whew two essays and two tests in one week and I am pooped. Not to mention campus is freezing, but ah no matter. This is just a little warning to you all that updates will likely slow down after a point because all the things I've been posting have been edits and even though heavily altered and with new bits it's still rather easy to pop out, but I only have so much material to edit before I move on to the completely new. Bear with me please when it gets to that point because that will likely be the same time I have a heavier workload for class.

In any case, enjoy the story dears!

There were whisperings, which was not so unusual for the first grand feast of the year, and the subject matter even less so. The new professors at Hogwarts. Plus the Savior of the Wizarding World, Mister Harry Potter himself, was casually sitting at the Gryffindor table, trying his best not to lose it.

Poor boy, Arthur thought to himself. He must be so dazed right now. He doesn't have a mortal enemy at his back, trying to kill him at every turn. That and the man he trusted most betrayed him… Arthur winced as he thought back to a different time, but quickly hid the expression behind his teacup. The feast hadn't started yet and the food hadn't arrived but Arthur had his way of charming the house elves. Peace can be a hard thing to get used to after years of war. Arthur sighed as the whisperings and murmurings continued on. A good few of them were about him he could hear. He sent a glare to a gaggle of third year Hufflepuffs after hearing the words "eyebrows" and "outrageously large." They tittered and blushed and turned away, pretending that they hadn't already gotten on the bad side of the new professor.

Arthur set his cup down with a harrumph. Children these days have no manners. A soft smile snuck up on his lips. Ah, but when have they ever, England.

England shook his head to clear his thoughts again, and then remembered that he needs to internally address himself as Arthur around this many non-nations lest he slip up and reveal his true nature.

Now, Arthur decided to think on a new subject, where in the world are those other professors?

Things were definitely not going the way Albus Dumbledore wanted them too. Not. At. All. There had been too many deaths! Far too many. His hold and power were starting to dissolve. How could he take over when all of his supporters were dead?! Dumbledore slammed a fist against his desk. He had wasted far too much time whittling away and being as inconspicuous as he could be. And yet they still caught on. Fudge. Scrimgeour. The old man sneered. Even Kingsley.

The headmaster continued to pace his office as he thought over what needed to be done. Kingsley's death had yet to be reported, so he had ample time to find a minion he could use to control the government. New professors was a pressing concern. Accentuating yet again his lack of live supporters. Lupin was dead and so was his wife. Both could have been excellent to take positions. If he had been desperate enough, he might have asked Molly Weasley, she had a good head on her shoulders, but after the death of one their sons, the Weasley's had broken from his ranks. Pity.

Snape was dead, Lupin was dead, Tonks was dead, Weasley was out of the question, Kingsley was terminated. He had positions to fill for Merlin's sake! Anyone he could have considered for a position that was held under his thumb, was unavailable. It was frustrating. Snape was dead, so he needed someone to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. Binns had finally moved on so he needed someone to teach History of Magic. Then his previous teacher for Muggle Studies had been slaughtered, so he needed someone for that... Slughorn had quit, the coward, and Hagrid had run off to France of all places! Leaving him short one Potion's master and Care of Magical Creatures professor. Things were definitely not going the way he planned.

Alfred F. Jones was a man of honor, integrity, justice, and most importantly FREEDOM. He could sense it. He could definitely smell it. Something was off. His justice senses were tingling. Or was that just indigestion? Hmm… No, nope, definitely his justice senses.

Alfred, the great and mighty United States of America, dropped the papers he hadn't even really been reading on to his desk and squinted at nothing in particular in his empty office. He swiveled around in his chair, taking only a few seconds (he swears) to appreciate the swivily by going around in circles, and stopped when he faced the window overlooking the gardens of his modest house.

Hmm… The sun was shining and birds were chirping and there didn't seem to be anything wro- Well, there was that black thing getting closer and closer to his window.

Alfred's eyes widened in surprise as he fumbled over the desk to crouch behind it and shouting a "Duck and Cover!" to his empty office. There was a loud thunk and an indignant squawk before Alfred realized wow, okay really America? It was just a bird. Alfred popped up from his crouch and proceeded to act as if nothing had ever happened.

The bird, Alfred noted with interest, was in fact a crow. A very angry crow now pecking at his window.

Oh, yeah.

Alfred's magical community communicated by crow. Duh. There was a message waiting for him, probably important considering he rarely ever got direct letters from them.

He ambled over to the window and allowed the crow to fly inside and deliver the letter. The crow smacked him with it before settling on his highest bookshelf. Alfred pouted up at the bird before sighing and tearing open the letter.

The United States of America quickly sobered at the contents within. His sharp blue eyes scanned the thin black script three times before removing his glasses and rubbing at the bridge of his nose. It was at times like these that he could truly feel his age.

He was going to need help for this, that much was certain.

He glanced up at the crow before turning back to his desk and opening a rarely used bottom drawer. Inside it were pieces of parchment, inks of different colors, a variety of quills, and both owl and crow treats. He picked up parchment, a plain quill, black ink, and a crow treat.

Alfred tossed up the treat to the still sore crow before settling down at his desk and beginning to pen several letters.

It was at times like these that he could really feel his age.