Chapter 12: Nightmares
America woke up in Washington D.C. Except it wasn't today's Washington D.C. It was the original city, the one that burned in that war.
"No, not this." America thought to himself.
He got up to look around. If his gut was correct, it was that day. The day Matthew and Arthur burned him.
When he stood, he noticed he was an adult again. He wore an American military uniform from that time period. Nantucket was plastered to his forehead by sweat. There was a musket lying nearby.
He stood up and picked up the musket, praying this was a dream. Because if it wasn't, he couldn't do anything about what was going to happen without destroying time itself. He would be completely helpless if someone had somehow sent him back in time.
Suddenly, America felt a burning sensation in his chest. There was a crackling noise coming from behind him. He turned around slowly and saw a small fire that was about to turn into an inferno. Nearby stood two people. One in a British redcoat and the other in a Canadian military uniform from the time.
The British man had messy blond hair, emerald eyes, and bushy eyebrows. He was a good head shorter than his companion. The Canadian had dirty blond hair with a single curl sticking out and violet eyes. It was Matthew and Arthur.
"Ma-Mattie?" Alfred asked softly as the pain started growing and spreading throughout his body. They were literally burning his heart. "Artie?"
If they noticed him, they didn't do anything to let him know. The pain flared as the small fire became an inferno and started to engulf the White House. They only made it worse by using that horrible spell to increase the amount of flames. America' knees buckled and he fell to the ground in a haze. He was vaguely aware of Dolly Madison trying to save documents and the citizens trying to put out the fires.
He heard innocent people scream as they burned to death. British and Canadian soldiers started more fires as the Americans tried to push them out of the city. Arthur and Matthew walked by him without even glancing at him.
"This is a dream. They didn't see me so this must be a dream because when it actually happened, they saw me." he thought in relief before he squeaked in pain. "But if this is a dream, then why is the pain real?"
Before he knew it a scream of pain escaped his lips. The larger the fires got, the more he screamed, each one louder than the last. The world around him started to shake.
"ALFRED!" somebody yelled.
America shot up in his bed, dazed and confused. He was vaguely aware of Canada sitting near him and Italy pressing something cool to his forehead. A moment later Germany ran in with England.
"Ve~ you're awake. You started screaming and shaking." Italy informed him. "You wouldn't wake up-a."
"What's wrong, Alfred?" England asked stepping closer to his little brother.
Remembering what happened in the dream, Alfred's eyes filled with fear and he started shaking his head rapidly. He was shaking from the memory and was vaguely aware of tears doling down his cheeks, but he didn't care. He was still kind of out of it.
"Stay away," he whispered before turning to his twin and adding, "both of you."
Both looked a little offended and hurt, but reluctantly stepped back. He suddenly hissed in pain as Italy accidentally grabbed his arm. The skin on both of them prickled with pain. The Italian noticed his reaction and carefully rolled up his sleeves. He gasped and Alfred looked down to see burns and blisters all over his arms.
"Vhat the hell happened to your arms?" Ludwig asked.
"What exactly was your nightmare about?" England demanded, having a terrible feeling he already knew the answer.
"The burning." Alfred replied. "It felt real and now I know why."
England felt like kicking himself for that one as did Canada. Both regretted the way the got their revenge. They used Fiend's Fire to burn down the original Washington D.C. in the War of 1812.
Italy carefully started laying wet washcloths on the burns so they didn't scar. These kinds of wounds on a nation could take weeks to heal from. They were one of the few wounds that don't heal instantly and when they finally do, they usual scar.
"Alfred, look at me." England ordered.
The American's blue eyes met the Englishman's green ones. Arthur's eyes were full of pity and guilt. Since he was taller than the eleven year old America, England knelt down to eye level.
"I am so sorry for what I did." he apologized. "I should have told you how much I regretted my actions a long time ago. But I need you to answer honestly, has anyone cast a curse on you today?"
Alfred thought back to that dreaded detention. She technically cursed him, right? But he couldn't tell Arthur that because he didn't have evidence. The wounds had already healed due to his nation status. And heroes couldn't go around blaming people without evidence.
"No." he lied. "Not at all, dude. I think I'd remember something like that."
England wore a look of doubt but didn't push the issue further. Knowing America, he'd probably never hear the truth if that's what happened. He sighed and told the four of them to go back to bed before leaving.
Italy stayed up and wrapped the burns before leaning close enough to whisper something only America could hear.
"I know-a what it's like to be betrayed by the people you love. My big brothers did that to me when I was little. They wanted to control me. Turkey also tried, but I kicked-a his butt and he never returned. I still have nightmares of them coming to Italy and trying to take my land."
Italy crawled into bed next to Germany and fell asleep instantly. America was definitely not going to sleep or at least that's what he told himself before exhaustion took over his body and he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
"I need you to come here and be my teaching assistant." Arthur told the bigger nation. "I fear that bloody Ministry spy knows we're not human and normal punishments don't work on us. But I believe she found a spell that works quite well and she used it on America earlier. Of course with the git's bloody hero complex, I'll never know which one she used."
"You need my help, da? Tell me why I should help leetle Amerika? He is Capitalist swine, da." Russia replied.
"The Ministry can not discover what we are. If they do, then so will Voldemort. And unless you want that wanker invading your country and killing your people, you'll help." England argued. The Russian didn't reply. "I'll pay you in vodka and Belarus won't find you here."
"I bring my pipe, da?"
The island nation sighed. "As long as you're not threatening to bash heads in and trying to kill America or scare Italy into becoming one with you."
Russia smiled causing England to shiver. The rest of his body appeared from the ground and he started walking out the door. A wave of dread washed over England. He was starting to second guess having the larger country help him teach children history.
"You coming, da?" Russia asked. "We must go speak to headmaster about staffing change, da?"
"Coming Ivan."
I forgot to do this last chapter, but Berlin, Actual God says they weren't expecting you to reply and asks if you come here often. Also thanks for the spelling on thestrals. I didn't feel like pulling out the book and looking it up. Anyway littelmeg, my friend, I won't see you until next year :'(. That means we can't talk about Hetalia at lunch for a year. Thank you to all my reviewers and followers. If you see any mistakes, please tell me. Also, can you do me a favor and go back through my first chapter, the prolog, and tell me about any mistakes you see. I'm running out of available empty files and I'm going to start deleteing the words in the file to start to next chapter. I don't own Hetalia or Harry Potter.