Oh… if I was unclear, think of Spain's multiple personalities thing as like Yami and Yugi from Yu-Gi-Oh. Yugi can talk to Yami, who can talk back and take over. I put them in this chapter since it looks like Spain's just crazy in the last chapter.

Prussia's wand originally had a bit more backstory, but I decided not to go into it since it seemed irrelevant. The ideas were that the wand's tip was steel taken from his first sword; the tip was stone and taken from Frederich the Great's grave…

The trial's text is taken directly from the book, with a few modifications.

Sin (of self defense) and Punishment (by letting him off)

That night, I could barely sleep. My trial was tomorrow… I was innocent, so there was no way… No. I was being stupid. They were going to snap my wand in half and that was it. I was never going to be a wizard again.

I couldn't remember falling asleep, but the next thing I knew, Professor Laurinaitis was trying to kill Gilbert with a sword while dressed up like a maid, while Gilbert was about ten years old and holding a frying pan. And then Natalya ran up to Gilbert while screaming about marrying him while Ron went into Super Saiyan 4 and Hermione tried to stop him with a Doublecast Ultima. Malfoy then used the Buster Sword to Summon Rincewind, who hit Wormtail for Q damage with his "Scream for Mercy in Al Bhed" attack…

When I woke up, I was shivering and sweating at the same time. Moreover, I was still cold. The blanket didn't help at all, even when I put my entire head under. After a few minutes of sheer discomfort, I gave up and got dressed.

Mrs. Weasley was already in the kitchen. "Hungry, dear?"

"Sorry. I'm not…"

Ron stared at me. "You've never turned down Mum's cooking! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, it's just-"

"You need your strength, Harry," said Hermione in a no-nonsense tone. "There's no point in letting yourself starve. Even if you don't feel it now, you will later."

Ron ate another kipper. "These kippers are really good, Harry! Have one."

"R-Ron, Hermione, I get it," I said. "But I'm just- I-"

"Have you ever starved?" Professor Laurinaitis deadpanned. "Not just being locked in your room and given a can of soup every day. Eating absolutely nothing for days on end while marching through the three-foot snow with only a few scraps of thin clothing on your back…?"

Professor Laurinaitis looked so gloomy that Ron stopped eating.

"You've gone past the point of hunger and now you feel fine and the cold is almost gone, but you know you're starving to death and the cold isn't helping…"

Hermione looked back and forth at him and me.

"And when you finally get your meager rations… a tiny bowl only half full of lukewarm potato soup… the full weight of your hunger comes crashing down and-"

"Ey… Professor?" Ron said weakly.

"Yes…?"

"Can you… stop?"

Professor Laurinaitis blinked. "Oh. Sorry. I… forgot myself. Just… please, Harry. Eat."

Professor Laurinaitis's story had given me chills, so I ate some steaming sausages to warm up. To my surprise, I really was hungry this whole time. I took a few kippers.

Mrs. Weasley looked sympathetic. "Are you okay, dear?"

"Wh-Oh! Uh… yes, ma'am."

"You can call me Molly, dear."

"Th-thank you." Professor Laurinaitis was blushing.

Mrs. Weasley cocked her head. "Are you okay, dear?"

"Awa- oh, tai-yes! I'm fine…"

Mrs. Weasley handed him the plate of kippers. "You should eat, too."

Professor Laurinaitis gave her a look of gratitude, and ate the kippers.

"By the way… you cleaned the kitchen very well yesterday. Are you used to cleaning?"

"Taip…" said Professor Laurinaitis. (Yes) "I… I used to be a servant…" He sighed. "I had a lot of jobs, back home in Lithuania. Right now I have a government job… I started off as a farmer. I joined the army later… and I got and lost a few more jobs." His eyes glazed over. "Before I was a servant… I was a maid."

There was silence. "A… maid?" Ron asked.

"Taip…"

"But you're a bloke!" said Ron.

"It didn't matter…"

There was another awkward silence. "Vell, I'm going to make a few calls," said Professor Laurinaitis. "Be careful at your trial, Harry. Zis isn't going to be a fair trial. Zey've already decided upon your guilt. Zey vill try to set you up. All you can do is make a defense, and hope zat zey'll listen."

He left.

"Cheerful, isn't he?" said Ron, scraping his plate.

"Ron!"

Ron shrugged. "Look, he's on Snape's good side! No one decent can be-"

Hermione got up. "Let's go upstairs," she said.

As we walked upstairs, Hermione clucked her tongue. "Ron. You just don't like him because Sirius doesn't like him. Same to you, Harry," she added.

I blinked. "You're waiting for Professor Laurinaitis to slip up, aren't you?" Hermione said. "You're waiting for an excuse. You want to hate him, but you can't since he's too nice."

"I am not!" I said hotly.

"You are, Harry. I know these things."

"I can't help it!" I snapped.

"Just… stop it!" Hermione said desperately. "He's trying to be nice to you! He's trying to make you understand that you're not alone in suffering!"

"Well, that's just fantastic, isn't it?" I laughed hollowly as I swung the door to our room open. "I mean, it's not like he's got a great big scar on his-"

I stopped as I saw the expressions on Ron and Hermione's faces. Neither of them were looking at me. Rather, they were looking at a spot directly behind me…

Slowly, I turned around. It wasn't our room at all… It was Professor Laurinaitis's. Professor Laurinaitis was in there. And he was changing. More precisely, he was in the process of taking his shirt off. His back was to the door, so Ron, Hermione, and I got a full view of it. He had quite a broad back… but that wasn't what we noticed.

We saw the scars. There must have been hundred—no, thousands of them, criss-crossing and weaving and dripping. Right between his shoulder blades was a brand, 'Имущества России', (Property of Russia) the words seared into his skin. Professor Laurinaitis had taken pains to cover this with tattoos. There was one of a knight on horseback over a field of red, three stripes that made the Lithuanian flag (yellow, green, red), a wolf in iron armor, howling over a hill- [1]

Professor Laurinaitis turned around, his face red with embarrassment. He opened his mouth to speak, and I saw bruises circling his neck. [2]

"S-sorry!" I said, and slammed the door shut.

My anger forgotten, I let out a deep breath. "You were right," I said. "Hermione. I was waiting for him to… give me a reason to lash out at him."

Ron shook his head. "Bloody… You know, I might have been wrong about him. There is no bloody way he's lying."

Hermione shuddered. "But… what could have given him those scars? I mean, those weren't claw marks, for sure. None of them are parallel. And some of them curve-"

"Those were whip lashes," I said. "Dudley used to have a tortoise. He tried to make it move with a whip. It didn't work, and the tortoise never got hurt, but I could see how the whip curved."

"But who would try to whip someone in this day and age?"

"Never mind about that, was that Russian on his back?" Ron said. "What did it mean?"

"Why are you looking at me?" Hermione said after a while.

"You're the smart one!"

"That doesn't mean that I automatically know Russian!"

Ron and Hermione kept on bickering, and I wondered, Who is Professor Laurinaitis, anyway?

X (Romano POV)

I woke up to the sound of a phone ringing. Irritated, I picked it up. "The hell you want?" I asked.

"Romano!" England's voice panted from the other end.

Sweat began to run down me cheeks. "I-Inghilterra…"

"It is you, isn't it?!"

"Si…"

"Okay, good. I'm in a bit of a hurry now, so listen carefully. You've only got a few minutes to spare…"

I nodded, and he told me his instructions. "Got it? Good. Now, write down this address…"

X (Back to Harry)

I had seen this room before. In the Pensive, last year. This was the very same room where Ludo Bagman, Igor Karkaroff, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Barty Crouch Junior had their trials.

"You are late," a boomed voice from above.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I… didn't know." How many people were up there? Forty? Fifty?

"That is not the Wizengamot's fault," the voice continued. "An owl was sent to you this morning."

My stomach plummeted. Was this what Professor Laurinaitis was talking about? Did they make me late on purpose?

"Take your seat."

I found myself looking at the chair in the center of the floor. It was virtually bare except for the thick chains around the armrests. Gulping, I sat down. The chains clinked, but did not bind my arms as I had seen them in the Pensive.

"Well, well," said Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. "Are you writing this all down, Weasley?"

"Yes, Minister," said—my heart skipped a beat—Percy Weasley. I glanced at him hopefully, desperate for some sign of recognition, but it never came.

Fudge cleared his throat, and began to speak. "Interrogators, Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jan Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister; Court Scribe, Percy Weasley-"

"Witness to the Defense, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," said a voice from behind.

I turned around. Dumbledore stood in the middle of the floor. I looked up. Some of the jurors looked down, others began to frown, and still others looked simply confused. A few elderly witches smiled and gave a friendly wave.

"Er—yes, Dumbledore," Fudge said. Dumbledore's appearance was clearly unexpected. "We—er—haven't exactly been expecting you—you did receive the owl about the trial being changed, right?"

"It must have been a happy accident," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "I happened to turn up several hours early."

"Oh. Uh… good. Weasley, go get him a chair."

"No need," said Dumbledore, and he conjured a fluffy armchair and sat.

"Now," Fudge read from a piece of parchment. "The charges for the accused are as follows: That he did, with full knowledge of the illegality of his crime, produce a Patronus Charm in the middle of Little Whinging, a muggle neighborhood, in full view of muggles, on the night of August the second, twenty minutes past nine, in violation of the Stature of Secrecy and paragraph C of the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery Act, 1875. Are you Harry James Potter, of Number Four, Privet Drive?"

"Yes."

"And did you, with full knowledge of the illegality of your crime, produce a Patronus Charm-"

"Yes, but-"

"In full view of muggles-"

"Yes, but-"

"And do you plead guilty or-"

"I did it because of the Dementors!"

The room fell silent. "Dementors?" Madam Bones said in genuine surprise. "I don't understand."

Fudge laughed. "Oh, come on, Amelia. I had expected something like this. Dementors in Little Whinging… Harry here had been thinking it through and thought that Dementors would make a nice little cover story… Muggles' can't see Dementors, can they? And no witnesses, either…"

"I'm not lying! There were two Dementors and they went after-"

"I'm sorry to interrupt a very well rehearsed story, but-"

"There is a witness," said Dumbledore. "Other than Dudley Dursley. She's right outside the door. Oh, and if the young man who was banging on the door earlier is to be believed, he is also a witness."

A young man and a woman? I thought. Who else was there? Feliciano and Lovino Vargas, and—Mrs. Figg…

"Very well then," said Fudge with a face like a lemon. "Send the woman in."

Mrs. Figg entered, looking scared. And still in carpet slippers… Dumbledore gave her his seat, and conjured up another one for himself.

"Full name?"

"Arabella Doreen Figg," said Mrs. Figg.

"And who exactly are you?"

"I am a resident of Little Whinging. I live close to Harry."

"There are no witches or wizards living in Little Whinging," said Madam Bones. "The situation has been monitored closely, given… past events."

"I'm a squib," snapped Mrs. Figg. "So you don't have me on the register, do you?"

"A squib, eh? In that case, we will review your parents' files later," said Fudge.

"Incidentally, can squibs see Dementors?" asked Madam Bones.

"Yes we can!" said Mrs. Figg a little too quickly.

"Can you tell us, from your point of view, what happened on the night of the second?"

Mrs. Figg cleared her throat. "Well, I was out buying cat food around nine, and when I was walking home I heard a disturbance between Mangolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk. So I checked to see what was going on. And then I saw two Dementors running-"

"Running?" repeated Madam Bones. "Dementors don't run. They glide."

"That's what I meant to say," Mrs. Figg said indignantly. "They were going after a group of four boys."

"What did the Dementors look like?"

"Big. And wearing cloaks."

I gulped. Mrs. Figg probably had only seen a picture of Dementors at most.

"A-and… I b-began to r-remeb-ber… things… terrible things…"

I gulped. Mrs. Figg wasn't lying about that.

"Very well then," said Madam Bones. "You may leave."

"Not a very convincing witness, eh?" said Fudge when Mrs. Figg had left the room.

"But she described the effects of a Dementor attack accurately enough," said Madam Bones. "Send the next witness in."

The doors opened again, and Lovino Vargas stepped in, impeccably dressed and looking angry. Lovino? How did he know that I was here? Scratch that, how did even get in? Was he a wizard?

He took Mrs. Figg's chair and looked upwards.

"Full name?"

"Lovino Vargas," he said, much more coolly that I would have thought. I had expected him to shout. "No middle name."

"And who exactly are you?"

"I'm Harry's neighbor."

"There is no record of any witch or wizard living in Little Whinging."

Lovino sighed. "I'm foreign. I just moved here from Italy a few weeks ago. If you need my address, it's Number 3, Privet Drive."

"Very well then."

Fudge laughed again. "Italy? You say that you're from Italy?"

Lovino glared, but did not shout. "Si. Avete bisogno di qualsiasi prova del mio paese di origine?" (Do you require any other proof of my home country?)

Fudge looked desperately at Percy. "Did you get that down?"

Percy shook his head. "No, sir. I don't speak Italian."

"What did you say?" asked Madam Bones. "In English, please."

"I asked if you required any proof of my country of origin," said Lovino.

"In that case, we will take your translation as truth."

"But—Italy?" Fudge protested. "One of the few countries that we here in Britain are unable to receive files from, and that is where you claim to be from?"

"I am telling the truth," said Lovino testily.

Fudge sighed. "This is such a waste of time… can't we just convi-"

"Cornelius, let us continue with the trial," said Madam Bones. "It is not unheard of for people to move between different countries. Now, can you relate, from your own perspective, what exactly happened on the night of the second?"

Lovino took in a deep breath, and sighed. "I…I was out in the park, with my little brother. We… we were beaten up by Harry's cousin and his gang."

There were murmurs of surprise. A group of muggle boys, beating up wizards?

"So we—that is, me and my brother—walked home after we were able to walk again, and then we… I…" Lovino shuddered. His hands gripped the armrests. "We ended up following Harry and his cousin, since we live next to each other, and—" Lovino's chills grew, and he broke out into a cold sweat "—I… I felt it."

"Felt what?" asked Madam Bones.

"I felt… everything. Pain… everything that I ever felt…" Lovino shuddered.

Normally, if I heard those words, I would have thought that that person was simply overacting. But Lovino was serious. His hands were shaking, and he was looking at the ground with dead eyes.

"And what happened after that?" asked Madam Bones.

Lovino composed himself. "I… I saw a stag of light from out of nowhere. A Patronus. Harry's. And then I passed out. The next thing I knew, I was in Harry's house, and he was arguing with his uncle."

"And?"

"And that's it. My fratello—my brother, was crying, and we left."

"And that is the end of your story."

"Si."

"Very well then. You may leave."

X (Romano POV)

I looked at the man presiding over the court. He wasn't trying to have a trial at all. He wasn't trying to determine if Harry was guilty or innocent. He was trying to make him guilty, and get this trial over with. "May I bring in another witness?" I asked. "It would only take a few minutes for me to pick him up."

"I haven't got time to-"

"This is the legal system here, isn't it? It's legal to bring in witnesses to court, am I right?"

Madam Bones nodded. "As long as you do not take an excessive amount of time. Is that clear?" she stressed.

I nodded. "I need ten minutes. Use a stopwatch if you have to."

X (Back to Harry)

Lovino sprinted out the door, almost knocking over Mrs. Figg but apologizing on his way out. Fudge grumbled about time-wasters, and Madam Bones snapped at him.

"So… what's a stopwatch?" asked one of the wizards at the court.

"It's a muggle invention. It records time."

"Like a clock?"

"No, it's not the simple-"

"Are you sure that he wasn't… covering for Potter?" Fudge asked.

"His story lined up with Figg's," Madam Bones said levelly. "And did you see how scared he looked when he was talking about the Dementors?"

"He could just be acting," Fudge persisted.

"Nevertheless, this is a court of Law, Cornelius. We cannot assume that everyone is lying."

"I'm back." Lovino called. "The witness is in the hallway. All I have to do is wake him up and explain-"

"No, you do it, Percy," said Fudge.

Lovino put his hand to his chin. "He doesn't know what's going on right now," he grumbled. "He's going to panic if I don't come with you."

Percy and Lovino left the room. A few minutes later, Percy came back with a scared-looking Feliciano in tow.

"Full name?" boomed Madam Bones.

"Ve… F-Feliciano Vargas…"

"And who exactly are you?"

"I-I'm Harry's neighbor… oh, and I like pasta and-"

"Can you tell us, from your point of view, what happened on the night of August the second?"

"Ve?"

"Last Tuesday."

"Ve… fratello and I were out in the park-"

"Skip to the Dementors, will you?" Fudge snapped.

"I believe that I am the head of Magical Law Enforcement here, Cornelius?" Madam Bones said. "Alibis are important."

Fudge backed off. "Then, continue from where you left off."

"Ve… so… fratello and I were jumped by Harry's cousin and his gang… after they left, fratello helped me up and he carried me over his shoulder-"

"He carried you over his shoulder?" repeated Madam Bones.

Feliciano shook his head. "Ve… it was more like he let me hang on his shoulder…"

"Very well then. Continue."

"So we followed Harry and his cousin, since we live next door to him and we didn't know any other way of getting home…a-and then… The air froze… Fratello cursed, and told me to shut up… A-and then…"

Feliciano wasn't going to say anything else. That much was clear. He was terrified.

"Are you going to finish your sentence?" asked a fluttery, girlish voice. A toadlike woman emerged from the shadows.

Madam Bones looked at her. "He has said enough. Have you said everything that you wanted to say?"

Feliciano gave her a slight jerk from his head.

"Very well then. You may leave."

X

After the trial, I felt as if a huge weight had just left my shoulders. I was still a wizard… Mr. Weasley had gone to deal with something, but he said that he'd be back in a little while. In the meantime, I was to wait by the fountain.

"Hey, Harry."

I turned around. Lovino was scowling. "That woman… watch out for her."

"Madam Bones?"

"No. That woman in the back. Umbridge. There's something wrong about her."

I nodded.

"Ve… she's scary… she reminds me of Roberto Suc-" [1]

Lovino glared at his brother, who snapped his mouth shut. Lovino turned back to me. "Either way, don't mess with her. But if you get on her bad side, screw with her as much as possible."

Wait, what?

Lovino grabbed Feliciano. "We've got to go before Gilbert finds out that we're gone."

"Ve? Why?"

"Wait, what do you mean by-"

Lovino sighed. "Feli. How exactly did you think we got here?"

For a few seconds, Feliciano simply looked confused, until revelation dawned. "Yo-you don't mean…"

Lovino nodded, shaking. "I stole Gilbert's car."

Feliciano stopped moving. Lovino poked him. "He's gone into shock," he explained. "Whatever you do, don't go out through the same entrance as us."

Before I could ask what he meant, Lovino picked up Feliciano and ran. "Ciao!" Feliciano waved before being dragged backwards.

I waved back, not entirely understanding what was going on.

"Harry?"

I turned around. Mr. Weasley was had come back. "Harry, who were those two?"

"They were… friends. I didn't know they were wizards." I looked down. "Why didn't they tell me?"

"Well, maybe they didn't know that you were a wizard," Mr. Weasley said sensibly. "I mean, they are foreign, and my colleague in Italy says that they don't know much about Voldemort there."

I had no choice but to accept this explanation. Of course they shouldn't know. That would violate the International Stature of Sec-

Peter. Peter is British; he should have known about my scar the whole time. And he looked at it for too long for him to just be staring. And he had a brother named Arthur, who I was sure is a wizard. Gilbert did say he was going to ask him about a spell.

"Harry? Are you all right?"

I snapped out of my thoughts. "Wh- Oh, yes Mr. Weasley."

"It's time to go."

X (Romano)

Veneziano and I crept into the elevator. "All clear," I said. "Now… here's the plan. As soon as Prussia shows up, we both run in opposite directions. You run to the Leaky Cauldron. I'll run home."

Veneziano was still shaking.

"Veneziano, are you listening to me!?"

He jumped. "Ve…Romano, I—I'm not sure his is a good idea…"

I shrugged vigorously. "It's the only one we've got!" I snapped.

The elevator dinged, and we stopped moving. Veneziano and I looked at each other, and nodded.

I looked around. No sign of Gilbert anywhere. "Coast's clear," I said to Veneziano.

"Ve…"

"Let's go!"

"Go vhere?"

A chill crept down my spine as I looked up. "P-Prussia…"

Prussia looked down. "You stole my car," he said flatly.

"I—I was going to g-give it back…"

"And how well would you have treated my car? I know how you drive…"

I gulped. There was no way that I was getting out of this…

X (Spain POV)

I had to admit, today was a strange day. First, Fencer woke me up because he needed my body for sword maintenance, and then Conquistador had woken up and said that he wanted to sharpen my axe while I was at it.

And then Gunner woke up and demanded that I hand him my body so that he could clean his guns. I said no, since it was early and I was hungry. Grandma had agreed, and yelled at Gunner for being so insensitive. Conquistador had gotten mad at them since he almost cut my finger off when their arguing distracted him.

So when a knock came at the door, I was relieved. Even when it turned out to be Mr. Dursley. His moustache was quivering, and his face was an unhealthy purple. "Out with it, boy!" he shouted. "Confess!"

"Confess what?" I asked.

"YOU WERE IN MY HOUSE THE OTHER NIGHT! YOU STOLE MY PRIZED DRILL!"

His prized what?

"You should tell him the truth," said Grandma.

"No, are you an idiot!? That'll get us arrested!" Gunner retorted.

"I agree with her," said Fencer. "We'll get what we deserve."

Gunner growled. "You—you-"

"If he tells the police," said Conquistador quietly, "we can always kill him. There's a wood close by where we can hide the body."

Mr. Dursley turned pale. It took me five seconds to realize that yes; my split personalities were speaking out loud.

Whoops.

Before he could run, I grabbed Mr. Dursley by the shoulder. "Don't tell anyone," I said with an edge to my voice that was hardly ever there. "If you do, I'll kill you."

Mr. Dursley nodded fearfully, and ran.

"That was a good one, Conquistador," Fencer admitted at last. "Not that I approve…but that was impressive."

Conquistador shook his head. "That wasn't me," he said solemnly.

"Then who…"

Fencer sensed my feeling. "That was you, boss!?"

I nodded.

A sticky tendril of guilt licked up. "Uh… Spain?" asked Conquistador. "Can I… go back to sharpening?"

"Si."

A little while later, there was another knock on the door. "Don't answer it," moaned Conquistador. "I'm not even halfway through here."

"If someone is at the door, open it," said Fencer stiffly.

"I want to kill something… open it," said Gunner.

"Now now, young man," said Grandma. "That is enough."

I went to the door anyway. "Hello?" I asked.

A man stood in the doorway, his mouth hanging open. He was balding, and he had a goatee, but the first thing I noticed was—"What is he wearing?" asked Conquistador; this time not speaking out loud.

"Isn't it too hot for him to be wearing a scarf that thick?" asked Grandma.

"Is that… a cardigan?" asked Conquistador.

"He looks like an old grandma…" snickered Gunner.

"Hey!"

"Sorry… Wait, why am I apologizing?! Spain, let me out. I want to kill something. FURYYYY!"

"He does not seem to be at ease with his current garments," said Fencer.

"No duh! He's dressed like a… a…"

"Guy who got all of his clothing out of a dumpster without actually knowing what they were there for?" Conquistador finished dryly.

"Exactly!"

"SHUT UP!" I screamed mentally.

"Excuse me…" the man said quietly. "But… uh…"

"Si?" I asked, just barely allowing my rage to bubble over the surface.

"I'm from the Ministry of Magic, and…" he trained off.

I whirled the axe around, leaving scarcely a millimeter of space between my blade and his neck. "If you are going to speak, speak up, si?" I said, smiling a smile that I only wore when I was a murderer.

The man blanched, and his pants turned a shade darker. Too frightened to even scream, he ran.

"Well now," I said.

"That was a strange fellow," said Grandma.

"Ditto," said Gunner.

"Look who's talking," Conquistador muttered.

"Spa~ain, why didn't you let me kill him?"

I hefted my—not Conquistador's—axe. "You're not the only one who can get angry, mi amigo," I said.

Conquistador opened his mouth (that's the best I can describe that feeling when I can't see him outside of dreams) to ask to take over, but I waved him off. "I'll do it."

Not long afterwards, the door lock rattled as it unlocked. Prussia stepped in. He took one look at me, and turned away almost instantly.

"Prussia," I said, still smiling that same evil smile. "What's wrong? Come on, I'll listen." Prussia turned around. "Come on, you look pale," I said. "I mean, more pale than usual."

Prussia slowly looked up, and I saw the beads of sweat on his face. He said something that barely came out as a whimper. "What's that? Mi amigo, if you want-"

"I tied up Italy and Romano and stuffed them into the trunk of my car after Romano stole it!" Prussia shouted in a fit of reckless abandon. He was panting.

That's it. Time to go berserk.

X (Back to Harry)

When I got back, Mr. Weasley told everybody the news. Everybody was cheering; Mrs. Weasley started cooking another feast and Fred, George, and Ginny were singing, "He got off! He got off!"

When I got to the parlor, Ron and Professor Laurinaitis were playing chess. Ron was grinning. "I've got you now," he said. "Check!"

Professor Laurinaitis moved his queen to the left. Ron ordered his bishop to kill it.

"Checkmate," said Professor Laurinaitis.

Ron gaped. "I—uh—you're—how did you?!"

"Now that your bishop killed my queen, he can no longer kill my knight here. And since there are no other pieces that can kill my knight, then if I just move my knight like this-"

The king was smashed to bits.

Ron stared at his king, and then at Professor Laurinaitis. "You're bloody amazing! Who taught you?"

"I… taught myself," Professor Laurinaitis said modestly. "I… had a lot of practice…"

His cell phone rang again. "Sveiki? Sorry, Ron, I have to take this call."

As soon as Professor Laurinaitis was safely out of earshot, and no one else was around, Mundungus grabbed us. "You two 'af a minute?"

"Er…"

"Good. Look, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, I 'af to tell you sumtin."

He looked at us intensely. "Whatever you do, don't tell yer mum that I was talkin teh yuh, kay?"

We nodded. "What's this all about, then?" asked Ron.

"T's about that Laryngitis fellah."

"Laurinaitis," Ron and I said at the same time.

"Meningitis, right. So, yeh know how I run w'never 'e comes near?"

We nodded.

"Yuh see; the man just came round a few weeks ago. Before you lot came. 'e's a demon, ah'm tellin yuh."

"And… what is this all about, exactly?" I asked.

"Was getting tuh it… Well, I was 'anging round Black Allen's place—Black Allen's a gangster, just so yuh know, don't mess with 'im—to er… have an exchange. Fer some reason, dere was a girl dere. Tied up. 'er mouth was gagged. Now, you don't ask Black Allen questions, less you want your innards out alive. But 'e caught me looking at 'er—she was a real looker, I'm tellin yuh—and he told me why she was dere."

"Girl was round his turf, 'e said. Said sumtin bout 'is boy's clothes. Ugly, or sumtin. Now, the boys don't take too kindly to criticism… so they tied 'er up—she got one of em, but that's a whole nother story—and brought 'er to base."

"I was—er, dealing with Black Allen at the time, and just when we reached a 'greement-" Mundungus shuddered, "'e 'eard a scream. Man's scream. Den another scream, and something cracked. 'nother scream, sound like someone's arm chopped off. Black Allen and I looked at one another, and tried tuh bolt."

"And then…" Mundungus shuddered. "The doors slammed open. There was a man there. 'e 'ad a sword in one 'and—bloody, too—and 'e was dragging 'nother man by his hair. 'e looked angry, too. Black Allen took one look at 'im and decided to run for it."

"Now what 'appened next, I 'ave no idea. But the man grabbed Black Allen by the neck, and stabbed 'im. Through the chest. But I wasn't gonna stay any longer, after all that. So I ran, and for some reason, 'e didn't chase. But I saw what he'd done. The base was a bloodbath. Lucky Luke's skull was crushed. Dragon Trev's arm was cut off. Walls covered in splatters o' blood."

Ron looked as if he might puke. "C-can we skip that?"

Mundungus nodded. "That wasn't ever tuh worst part. After that, I came back 'ere. And when I got 'ere, who would be 'ere but him! The man who slaughtered all've Black Allen's gang! Tendonitis Lymphangitis!"

"Toris Laurinaitis," corrected Ron.

I gaped. "You mean that Professor Laurinaitis did all that?!"

Mundungus nodded. "Aye."

"No way… he's just a… a…" Ron said.

"'e 's a demon, I'm telling yeh!"

"But… how? And why?" I asked.

Before anyone could answer, there was a scream. Ron jumped up. "That came from the drawing room!" he shouted.

"That was Professor Laurinaitis!" I shouted.

TO BE CONTINUED!

[1] The scars and the brand: Lithuania does have the scars, but I elaborated. As for the brand… it means that he was Russia's. And the tattoos are to remind him that he's Lithuania, not a part of Russia.

[2] The bruises around Lithuania's neck: Lithuania has (or had) the highest suicide rate in the world. The bruises are from hangings…

[3] Robert Succo (I can't remember his name) was a serial killer. I compare Umbridge to him. Enough said.

Extra Scene: Lithuania's interview (Snape POV)

"Lietuvos Respublika," said the man, and his eyes widened. "I… did not know zat zat vould happen…"

"That was a Truth Potion," I said irritably. "That happens when one consumes a Truth Potion. They tell the truth."

Lietuvos Respublika turned red, and said frantically, "Call me Toris. Toris Laurinaitis."

I leaned forward and asked chillily, "So, Mr. Laurinaitis. Have you ever worked before?"

Toris nodded. "I…started off as a farmer, and then I became a soldier, and-"

I waved him off. "Never mind; which one of your jobs was the most humiliating?"

Toris shuddered. "I… I used to be a maid…"

I shifted. "Do you have any military experience?"

Toris nodded. "I vas part of the Lithuanian military. I also used to be a knight until harvest season came around-"

"Did you have any normal jobs?"

"I… used to be a farmer."

Ah. I was on steadier ground here.

"Until Poland got partitioned."

"And who was your first boss?" I asked, now desperate.

"Grand Duke Mindaugas," said Toris, and instantly regretted it.

I looked at him in the eye, and asked, "Are you nations?"

Toris and Roderich both looked surprised, and they nodded.

"Yes."

"I'm Lithuania, and this is Austria."

Now everything made sense. "Very well then. You got the jobs. You may leave."

Neither of them moved. "Yes?" I asked.

"I…uh…" Lithuania said awkwardly.

"How do you know about us?" asked Austria sharply.

I sighed. "That is a story for another time."

What did Snape mean? What is Lithuania screaming about (hint: Drawing Room)? And what will Spain do to Prussia?