Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter or Hetalia. They belong to their respectful owners.
Harry arrived at the platform with the Ron, Hermione, and all the others. They had gotten quite the follow to the station this year; even Sirius was there in dog form. As usual, there were a lot of people: Families saying goodbye to their kids, friends meeting up again after a long summer, and the ever present noise of hundreds of owls, cats, and other animals.
"Now hurry up, dears, we need to get the luggage on the train!" Mrs. Weasley urged them along the way, followed by Mr. Weasley and Sirius.
On his way, Harry greeted some of his dormmates and, after some minor confusion with the whereabouts of Ron's Prefect sign, they boarded the train. On their way in, they walked by a fuming man, loudly speaking with another man in a compartment. Harry didn't hear what they said, but it looked like the man in the train had a blast annoying the other one.
"Isn't he a bit old to be on the train?" Ron asked, obviously also noticing the two men.
"You would think so," Harry answered him, not really know what else to say.
"So, I think that we this year we really need to stay out of trouble," Hermione was saying, standing in front of them. "I mean, this is our OWL year. They are really important for our future!" She continued like that, until they sat down in a compartment together with Luna, Neville, and Ginny. It was a hot day, so Neville was trying to open the window.
"I think it's stuck," he finally said.
Ron got up to look at the window too, probably longing for some fresh air also. It was true that the compartment was a bit stale and with six people it, it was bound to get worse.
"Mate, you haven't opened the children's safety," Ron said, after having looked at the window.
"Like hell I'm going to miss someone like you, you twat!"
That was the first thing they heard after the window had come open. When Harry looked out of the window, he saw the same man as when he went onto the train. He was blond (with some impressively big eyebrows), and speaking in a posh accent. You couldn't see the man he was shouting at, but...
"Oh, Arthur, why deny it! Zis is going to be ze longest time since ze war we are not seeing each other!"
He was probably French. Ron face mirrored what Harry might think his looked like: A mixture of amusement and surprise.
"Well, that isn't every adult-like, is it?" Hermione snorted. "You would think that a new Professor would be a bit more grown up." Harry and Ron (together with the rest of the compartment) looked at Hermione.
"Where in the bloody hell do you know that from?" Ron asked her, his eyes wide. Then he looked at Harry. "Where in the bloody hell does she know that from?"
"Well, Ronald, it wasn't really that hard to figure out," she said, while laying the book she had been studying down on the seat next to her. "He is obviously too old to be a student and we have never seen him, or so we assume. The only other adults we have meet on this train, apart from the lady with the candy, and the train driver was Professor Lupin. It's most likely that he is the new professor in Defense Against the Dark Arts."
It all made sense in Harry head. After Moody (who wasn't really Moody) last year under the tri-wizard tournament, the school was in need of a new teacher. The bloke in the compartment next to them was most likely the one.
"He is French," Ginny noted, also looking out at the window. The man with the big eyebrows, presumably Arthur, looked like he most of all wanted to strangle the French one, but (from the sound of it) he merely laughed. Arthur then took a deep breath, possibly to calm a bit down, now that he realised that they had an audience.
"You know what; I think I'm going to leave now. Don't you dare destroy anything or do anything improper!" He lectured the French.
"I would never!" French said, but it didn't look like Arthur believed it.
"Goodbye Francis," Arthur said, disappearing into the sea of people.
…
It wasn't long after the little show that the train started moving. Ron and Hermione had left for their Prefect duties, so Harry was alone with Ginny, Neville, and Luna Lovegood, a girl from Ginny's year but in Ravenclaw.
After Neville's unfortunate presentation of this newly acquired plant and Cho Chang's very bad timing, they were once again sitting, small talking with Neville and Luna about their summers.
Neville's summer had really been that interesting, apart from the plant (if you were into plants to find that interesting), and Luna was a bit hard to understand. Harry got the impression that she had indeed enjoyed her summer, but also looked forward to school again. Much like Harry himself, of course. He was glad that to only live with the Dursley's for half the time, but it wasn't that interesting to stay in Sirius house, cleaning the entire day - even if it was with Ron and Hermione.
But the time Ron and Hermione came back from Prefect duties, the food trolley had already gone by.
"It was so boring," Ron complained, as he stepped into the compartment. "The only plus is that we are allowed to reduce house points! I can't wait to get Malfoy on something!"
"Ron, we can't just play around with our duties! And I thought that it was quite interesting."
Hermione told about the duties, while Ron was more focused on the fact that Malfoy was the new Prefect from Slytherin.
Speaking of Malfoy, later on the trip he and his two gorillas came to pay them a visit, much to Harry's dismay. He was indeed very pleased with the prospect that he was a Prefect and Harry was not.
"Get out, Malfoy." Hermione had gotten up and stood in front of them. Malfoy smirked at her and looked like he may leave when a voice came from behind them.
"Zis something the matter?" A distinct French accent asked. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, together with the rest of the compartment, turned around to look at the person behind them. He was of regular height and with a charismatic composure. His hair was blonde and would have reached at least his shoulders, if most of it wasn't tied up in a bun with a decorated hairpin. He had a handsome face, with blue eyes and a slim mouth, the features of an aristocrat. His clothes fitted that of a French aristocrat too. He was wearing a royal blue robe with a pair of white trousers (AN. His normal coat, but longer at the back and with white pants). The robe wasn't one Harry had seen before. It was longer in the back than in the front, and had more of a muggles coat feeling to it than other Wizarding robes Harry had gotten used to.
"Who are you?" Malfoy asked, looking a little startled to find an adult on the train.
"My name is Francis Bonnefoy," the newly proclaimed Francis answered, after a bit, like he had to think about it for a second. "Zis something wrong?"
"No, we were just leaving," Malfoy spat, obviously not satisfied with the answer. He then walked around Francis and disappeared out of sight, together with Crabbe and Goyle. Francis looked after them, then shrugged and began to walk away the other way, leaving the rest alone in the compartment once again.
"Who is he?" Ron inquired.
"That was most likely the new Professor." Ginny was the one to answer. "At least, he had the same accent as the one shouting out the window when the train started".
"He looks young," Harry added. They continued talking a bit about the new Professor, with Ginny proclaiming that she could think of some (a lot) of girls at Hogwarts that would find him handsome. Ron was then quick to say that he wasn't that handsome, it was because of the accent.
"It is quite an interesting book we needed this year," Luna Lovegood interrupted, "in History of Magic."
Harry thought about it. It was true that they this year were asked to buy a new book, about magical wars, for the lessons. They hadn't really used any other books than 'A History of Magic', but Harry hadn't thought much about it. He thought that is was because they were in their OWL-year.
"You mean you also needed the book?" Harry asked Luna.
"Not the same one as you," Ginny clarified, "we don't have about the magical wars, but one about different magic types from all around the world."
"Oh," Harry said.
"But I still think it's interesting," Hermione (who else) said. "I mean, this will have to mean that Professor Binns is trying something else. We didn't have anything about different types of magic last year."
"Yeah," Ron agreed, trying to swallow the last of his chocolate frog, "we heard about the Goblin Rebellion, a real bore if you ask me."
"Ron, the Goblin Rebellions are an important part of magical history!" Hermione told him.
"I can't really see it 'mione. I may not have paid much attention last year -"
"Nope," Harry coughed, earning a glare from Ron.
"- But I do remember that I thought about what this had to do with anything. Things were more or less the same before the rebellion and after the rebellion. And it was hundreds of years ago!"
Harry, impressed with Ron's ability to remember things he didn't like, tuned out of the rest of the conversation. He didn't hate the Goblin Rebellions as Ron, and he didn't care much for the subject of History of Magic as Hermione, so he took to looking out of the window. He wondered how long it would be to they reached the school.
…
France had been sitting in his compartment, not really doing anything. He had looked over the English landscape (not as beautiful as the French landscape mind you), and wondered if the sun was ever visible on the sky. Every time he had visited England, it had been raining. England himself claimed that it was because France came for a visit and that the English weather liked him as little as England did (France didn't believe him; no one was capable of hating someone like him. He was the land of love!).
After having just about enough with the landscape and looking over the books he had brought with him, he walked out of his compartment. He needed to find that lady with the food again. Last time she had come, he hadn't really wanted anything, but it wasn't long before his stomach began to complain. Besides, he needed to stretch his legs.
Just outside he saw (well, more heard), what sounded like an argument of some sort. A girl's voice was telling someone to leave. France quickly gathered, that the comment probably was meant for the three boys standing in the entrance to the compartment.
"Zis something the matter?" he asked. He didn't believe that it would turn violent (he had seen some violence in his time), so it was more meant to maybe startle the boys. And it worked.
"Who are you?" the blond once - reminding France a bit about a younger version of Germany - asked him.
"My name is Francis Bonnefoy." He couldn't just go around saying 'Well, I am the great Nation of France, the land of love' now could he? God, it was going to be a tiring year. "Zis something wrong?"
The blond boy looked questionably at him. "No, we were just leaving," he spat. France found that a rather rude thing to do. The kid wasn't even a tenth his age and yet he sounded superior. Luckily for him, France had lived thought the French aristocracy, on Versailles no less. Couldn't find people more snobbish than that (well, maybe the British nobility at same time). It took a lot more to, as America would put it, 'piss him off' than a kid.
As the blond boy left with his two friends, France took his departure as well. He figured that he would meet the other kids anyway, they didn't look like some of the older ones, and he was hungry.
He ventured further up the train, hoping to find the place where the conductor and food-lady were.
"Oh, I'm sorry."
Someone bumped into France arm.
"Zat is quite alright," France replied.
It was a small, rather frightened looking boy. With France educated guess, he would say he was a first year, seeing the nervousness of the poor kid. He had been carrying a book and balancing some candy on top of it, which all was on the floor now.
"Let me help," France offered, bending down to grab the nearest piece of candy.
"No, no," the kid hurried, grabbing the piece before France, "It'll be fine, y-you don't have to!"
The garcon (boy) looked like he wanted to bury himself in the nearest pit.
"Is zis your first year, Monsieur…"
"Abercrombie," the boy muttered, "Euan Abercrombie. Y-yes, it is my first year. Are you French?"
The boy looked shocked that he had asked a question, and to an adult, nethertheless.
"Oui, indeed I am!" France decided to add some glamour to the conversation and made a big arm movement. "And you see, Monsieur Abercrombie, zis is also my first year." France hoped the openness and movements would help the boy ease up a little and he wasn't wrong. The people who said France was bad with children were wrong. Actually, France saw himself to be rather good with children, having raised some himself. Mathieu turned out perfect.
"So, are you a Professor?" Euan asked, seeing that France didn't bite.
"Oui, my name is Francis Bonnefoy, and I am going to teach in Histoire de la Magie (history of magic)."
"What?"
"History of Magic".
"Oh".
The conversation stalled a bit.
"So, Monsieur Abercrombie, what do you look most forward to?"
"Well, my mum said that I should look forward to the charms classes." He began to pile up his candy again. "She really likes charms. My father is a Muggle, so he just said I should find some good friends. He doesn't know that much about magic."
"Do you like charms, too?" asked France.
"I dunno," Euan replied. "Haven't tried them before. But I like the ones my mum's do, you know, getting things to levitate and creating water."
France and Euan talked a bit about charms and the different kind of spells out there. It was clear to France that the boy, no matter own statements, was interested in the subject of charms. He told France that he and his mother had gone over his course book before he started, so that he just had to concentrate on the spell instead of the theory. He then asked France about what sort of charms he could do, were to France said that he had to wait until they arrived to the school.
"They 'ave different houses here, no? Do you know which one you are in?" That seemed to have struck something inside Euan, who dropped his books again.
"N-n-no, no one know which house they are in until after t-the sorting," he stammered.
France hadn't known that (there were a lot of things England found irrelevant to tell him), but as a teacher he couldn't say that.
"You 'ave no idea then? No wishes?"
"W-well, my mother was in Ravenclaw, so I suppose that I would like to go there. My cousin is in Slytherin, but I don't think I'm ambitious enough. Hufflepuff is a possibility that seems to be the way people go if they do not fit any of the others." He thought a bit, "I would like to go to Gryffindor, with are the brave, but I don't think I'm very brave."
France had read 'Hogwarts: A History', but was very deficient on the subject of sorting (to say, only mentioned that the students 'were sorted into either…'), so he knew the houses of Hogwarts.
Before France could say anything, a voice said that they would be at Hogwarts soon, and they (Euan) should change into school robes. Euan quickly said goodbye to France, dashing down the hall to find his compartment. France did the same thing, turning to go back the way he came. So much for the food.
AN
So, that's chapter four. As of now, I already have another 5.000 words, but they still need to be beta-read.