Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter or Hetalia. They belong to their respectful owners.
It all went a lot quicker than England had expected. After all the digging the professor had done in the beginning, he had thought that it would be a longer affair. However, he hired France on the spot. Without much background information or general conversation.
England wondered what was going on inside the headmasters head. How he in his right mind could hire a man he hardly knew anything about to teach at a school?
On the other hand, that might explain the thing about some rumoured "crazy" professors or two in the last couple of years (the one who, maybe, died a room with a student and one who downright lied about his qualifications).
However, that wasn't the matter right now. France had gotten in which was the main focus of the day. The next thing was the bookstore. England mentally sighed. A whole day with France. This could just as well be the apocalypse.
In the store, they quickly found the history section. However, it was quite a lot bigger than England remembered it. That may be because of his narrow mind when he was there the first time. But as they stood there, looking at the different books, neither of them had a clue about what books to buy. What was the standard course-book for history at Hogwarts?
"You young men look at little lost," a voice said from behind. "Can I help you with anything?"
England turned around, looking at what presumably was the store attendant, a middle-aged man with a lack of hair on his head.
"Yes, could you inform us, what books are the students of Hogwarts taught from? For the subject History of Magic?"
"All seven years? Well, first to fourth years are taught by this shelf, and the last three are taught by those down there. Of course, all years are required to have 'A History of Magic'; that is the main book."
While the man pointed and kept talking about some of the books, England looked over them. There were a lot about goblin rebellions and different magical wars, which for most at the time, made no point whatsoever. It wasn't often England dismissed history, but there were things that were more important than others. And the goblin rebellion of 1612 was not that high on the list. He was there when it happened and he doesn't remember much about it.
The main book, simply titled 'A History of Magic', was a good one. England had read it a couple of times, but from what he could understand on the attendant, who was taught by Professor Binns, they hardly went over the timestamp of 1750 (1).
"Excusez-moi, but you do not happen to 'ave the teaching curriculum for ze subject 'ere, no?" France asked, possibly having some of the same thoughts as England: That a year only teaching only about the giant wars and goblin rebellions would be a long one.
"Why, I think I have one somewhere…" the store attendant rubbed his chin while he thought. "I'm just going to look in the back, I think it might be there somewhere."
While he went out to get the curriculum, France pick up a book titled 'European Wizards in the Medieval times' and began to look through it.
"Zis look absolutely horrible" he exclaimed. "If ze only thing on zat list is zis, I do not think I am going to make it a whole year!"
"I have to agree with you. The international warlock convention of 1289 was important when it happened. It wasn't like those old men actually agreed on something. I do not understand why they still teaches that."
While they discussed the different books the man had pointed out to them and how relevant they were, the attendant came back.
"Here you go." He gave France a heavy-looking book. "The 'History of Magic' curriculum for Hogwarts through the years. That is the only one I have with the new one in."
"Merci," France said, a little surprised, looking at the book. "'ave there been a change to ze curriculum from when you went to ze school?"
"I think there was one a couple years back, before the war against You-Know-Who. But why, if you don't mind me asking, are you so interested in the subject? You look a little old to start at Hogwarts."
"Well you see, my friend here is going to take on the position as teacher for a year at Hogwarts," England answered, seeing that France was in the middle of turning the pages in the book.
"Oh, I see. So old Binns is finally taking a break. I must say, even when I was at Hogwarts, the History of Magic lessons was some of the most boring..."
While England and the store attendant (that they still didn't know the name of) were talking, France was trying to find the curriculum in the enormous book. When he finally found it, he had to let out a sigh of relief. The curriculum for Hogwarts was different from the one at Beauxbatons. At Hogwarts, there were a list over things the teacher could choose to teach, while on Beauxbatons, there were a list of things the teacher had to teach. France didn't get how the system worked here, but right now it was in his favour. There were a list of things he both found interesting and relevant. Magic from other countries, the two world wars from the wizards perspective (because there were also nazi-wizards in Germany), and even so far up as to the war against Voldemort (even though this only were a subject from fifth year and up). There were a lot of things he could do with that. France memorizing the modern history was a bit better than his memory from 1289.
"Well then, Francis, is it to your liking?" England inquired, seeing that France's mood had changed.
"Oui, zis is much better zan I 'ad expected." He passed the book to England who skimmed the pages.
"Yes, I see. This is much better. What books do you think you need to buy?"
…
Most of the trip went well, until they were on the way out of the shop. England had (not so) unfortunately made a comment about the case of France's robes, which France replied with a comment about England's obvious lack of colour and somehow got his cooking included in that. As expected, England didn't take that quite as well, and the two of them ended in an argument that collected some stares from the people around them.
The audience made them stop (it wouldn't be good if they said something "confidential") and they parted ways.
France went to the robe shop, but not for the reasons England wanted. He looked at the fashion of British robes and cloaks and ended up buying a blue and white winter coat. Beauxbatons was in Southern France, so the temperatures didn't drop as much as it did in Scotland. That reminded him: He better call Monaco and tell her that she'll be representing France in the next 10 meetings (one meeting a month, and he was gone for around 10 months). France didn't think she would mind; there wasn't a lot to do in Monaco since it was so small, but it would be better to actually inform her about it.
…
They slowly came nearer and nearer the date for the start of the school year, and France thought that he was quite ready for it. He had read all the books and made sure that his clothes were warm enough for the weather in Scotland. What was the worst that could happen at a school? He had survived hundreds of years in the company of nations like England, Germany and Italy, lived through the two world wars and the beheading of his king. One year at a school shouldn't be the worst thing.
He had gotten a message from Professor Dumbledore (or rather, England had gotten a message from Professor Dumbledore), that if he had any books he liked the students to have, he should just send him a letter (by owl). France jumped at this opportunity. The book about magical history, though it covered many different areas, it didn't really go up in the newer times that much. And it was the newer times he would highlight in his lessons (he knew that the ghost professor would be back, so he might as well teach them something of that matter, since they most likely wouldn't hear about it again).
September first came quickly. England had agreed with himself that they should meet up at eight AM, much to France's dismay. He wasn't a morning person. That is why he (deliberately) came a good half an hour too late.
A rather angry Englishman greeted France.
"What the bloody hell did you miss by 'We meet at eight'?!"
"Excusez-moi, I must 'ave slept over, non!" France smiled. "I am terribly sorry, I do 'ope you can forgive moi (me), mon cher Angleterre (My dear England)!"
"Get your bloody hands off me, you wanker!"
"Non! France is ze land of love! I am going away for ze whole year, ze least you can do is love me!"
"Not in a million years you bloody frog! And stop touching me!" With that, England placed a fist in France's face.
"Mon cher, I'm hurt!" France cried out in distress. "To think zat you would deny my love!" He then again tried to go for England but the nation sidestepped him so he ran into the fence on England's porch.
"We really have to get going now," England said, not even sparing a glance in France direction. "The traffic in London is horrendous today. How much baggage did you bring?"
It turned out that France didn't have that much luggage, due to the undetectable extension charm he had cast on his only suitcase. England was impressed that France was even capable of such advanced spells. It shouldn't come as a surprise to England, but it did anyhow, especially when he looked at him in that moment.
"Why in the world do you have that in your hair?" England exclaimed, finally understanding what was holding France's hair in place. Because the twisted bun France had made was hold in place by his wand. England was both surprised but also triumphant. He knew that France's wand looked more like a hairpiece than an actual wand and here France had proven him right.
"Zis?" France asked, touching the wand, "I did not know where else to put it. It works surprisingly well as a hairpin."
"You do understand that it can be dangerous to have your wand like that?"
"Ne t'inquiète pas (don't worry), no one will know zat it is my wand. And besides, it is hardly touching my head, it is not like I will accidentally cast a spell, non?"
"I suppose not." England wasn't in the mood to discussing proper wand handling with France right now. It was too early in the morning.
"So Angleterre, how do we get à Londres (to London)?"
"We are taking a cab and speaking of which, it should be here by now."
"Un taxi (a cab)? Why not drive ourselves?"
"Why, because it would be bloody impossible to find a parking spot, you moron."
"No need to be rude, Mon Cher, I was merely asking."
As on command, the cab turned into the driveway. It didn't take them long to load France's only suitcase in the trunk, and they were on their way. As England had said, the traffic in London was awful. Cars, bikes and people everywhere (2). It took, what usually was twenty minutes on a sunny day, around forty-five minutes to get to King's Cross station.
Once there, it took them another fifteen minutes to locate the right platform, because of the sheer amount of people with luggage and other stuff (and England's apparent lack of knowledge to the place). A train must have arrived. While they were walking, England kept muttering something about quarters and 'long time', which France didn't quite get the meaning behind.
They entered Platform Nine, which was peculiarly empty, and France walked a bit around the platform. "Angleterre, I do not understand why we are on a normal train station. How am I supposed to get to the school from here?"
"You are going to take the train, just like everyone else. Come, it's this way." England stopped in front of the wall between platform nine and ten and looked knowingly at France, who was now very confused. "All you have to do is run into the wall."
"Excusez-moi," France said, looking first at England, and then the wall. "Run into ze wall?"
"Yes, the platform the train is leaving from is on the other side." England looked dead serious, but France could spot a hint of laughter in his green eyes.
"Bon alors (okay then)," France said, mostly to himself, before he walked into the wall. He thought himself too handsome to run in a train station. An invisible entrance, he realised as the wall disappeared around him. On the other side was another platform, promptly naming itself 'Platform 9 ¾'. So that was what England meant with quarters. There weren't a lot of people on the platform yet, but a scarlet-red steam train was parked on the track.
"Angleterre, you did not tell me you had zis! Zis is magnifique (magnificent)! Oh, ze colour is superbe (beautiful) - and ze whole thing is practically shining!"
England, who had come through the wall, looked at what France was working himself up about.
"Is it just, Francis," he said, putting extra pressure on the last word, "one of the only non-magical things used by the magical community and one of the first trains in action. I believe the first time it was in use was in…"
France tuned out on England's walk down memory-lane and looked at the people on the platform. There were still about an hour until the train departed, so there wasn't a lot. Some families with children who looked like it was their first time and a couple single students sitting on their bag, waiting for the doors to open. The train chauffeur was walking down the side, inspecting different parts of the train to make sure that it was ready for action.
"… Once in 1954 (3) I do believe, the train had suffered a big amount of damage. It couldn't drive that year. It was chaotic; no one knew what to do. It ended with the students travelling by floo-powder to Hogsmeade village and walking to the…" At that point, England must have realised that Frances wasn't listening to his anecdote.
"That bloody twat, it is exceedingly rude to walk away from someone talking to you!"
It ended, as usual, with a fight between France and England. Luckily for them, they managed not to shout. As more people entered the platform, the doors to the train opened and the students flooded onto the train. England too, having had enough of France who twice tried to put his hand up his shirt, pushed the other nation abroad the train.
"If anything out of the ordinary happens, send me an owl," he instructed. "I will pick up Monaco and take her to the first meeting and I do hope you have told her what to do!"
France reassured him, that he had indeed talked with Monaco and that she, to some extent, knew what to do.
"Do not worry all zat, Mon Cher Arthur. Is it only un (one) year. What is ze worst thing zat could happen?" Before England had the chance to answer him, France had sent him a kiss and disappeared into the train. England just sighed.
"Stop being so mélancolique (melancholy), Arthur. You will see me again for Christmas, so you need not wait for too long!" France said, leaning out of a window from a compartment he'd found.
"You frog, I'm more worried about the state of the school when you arrive!"
AN
(1) - A made up date
(2) - I have never been to London, so I can't say if it is true.
(3) - Also a made up date.