Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter or Hetalia. They belong to their respectful owners.

England was in a conflict with himself and had been so for the last few days. Last week, when he was about to prepare for the next World Meeting, he had suddenly felt a jap in his heart. Out of nowhere, it felt like someone was splitting his heart into two pieces. It lasted only for a minute or so before he was back again. But it concerned him.

Last time he had felt a pain like that was almost two decades ago, just before there was a war in his magical community.

However, he had no time to think about it, because his phone rang shortly after. The in incident was pushed back in his mind, but not forgotten. Just postponed to when he had time to think about it.

That later time came rather abruptly, though. In the middle of a Meeting, he suddenly felt the pain of one of his people dying. Granted, he did that all the time, but this was different anyhow. This man was killed with magic, the killing curse. The reason behind his surprise was that he hadn't felt someone die in that manner for quite some time. Not since…

"England agrees with me!"

"I am certain he do not."

England was pulled out of his thoughts by the mention of his name. It was the normal ruckus. Some Nations were talking with each other, others listened to what was being said and some (like Greece) were sleeping. Of course, it was America who was doing the talking.

From what England could see, it looked like he'd just presented a plan to how you could use zeppelins to clean out the CO2 in the atmosphere, or something like that.

Germany was in the group of nations actually listening, and the one to speak against America's proposition.

"I do apologise, I must have drifted off," he started, while he gathered his thoughts. He had a hard time concentration on the meeting: the after-effect of the killing curse still echoed in his inner.

"But nevertheless, I agree with Germany. Zeppelins are not the most safe option for mass production. Have you forgotten about the Hindenburg incident in 1937?"

"What, dude, that was almost a decade ago! We can do much better now, and since I am the hero it won't burn down this time!"

"But wasn't it on American soil it burned, aru?"

"Minor detail…"

The rest of the meeting went on like that. England kept his activity to the minimum, not in the mood for the inevitable conflict it would cause.

Right now, Cuba and Romano was having a heated argument about something that was completely irrelevant for a meeting. England most of all wanted the meeting to end so that he could go and check if his hunch was right. If he was back again.

"Angleterre, you are awfully quiet today, no? Is something wrong?"

England recognised that voice anywhere. It was the damn Frog. Always here to disturb the peace. However, before England could come with a retort, Germany announced that they as well could end the meeting since no one was doing anything anymore.

Pleased with the announcement (and the fact that France had hopped on to the passing… who was that again, Canadia? No, Canada), England began to collect his papers. His mind was already elsewhere.

…

The streets of London were busy, as usual. It was in the middle of summer, so tourism was at its highest. Luckily for England, he knew London like his back pocket. Easily maneuvering his way around, he found himself outside a sketchy-looking place. Tucked between other shops was a small, easily overlooked façade.

'The Leaky Cauldron' the sign over the entrance announced. England stopped outside the door for a moment. It had been years since he last visited this place, or the magical world all in all. His last boss hadn't approved of the more magical side of the world, and after the dire consequences of the last Wizarding War, straight down forbidden England any contact with it.

That wouldn't have been enough to keep England away from his people, but also the magical community, or rather the Ministry of Magic, would like if he kept out of their business. So England hadn't much of a choice. He pulled himself from the magical community and solemnly focused on his more mundane tasks.

But now he was here again. It wasn't like he would interfere, he just needed to know if he was back again and what better place to find out than in the Leaky Cauldron.

Inside there were quite a lot of people. It was not only Muggles, as the wizards say, that come to London to see the sights. But England made it to the bar where he ordered a cup of Earl Grey tea and began to look in the Daily Prophet. He quickly gathered that because of his withdrawal in the middle of the war, he hardly knew anything about the ending of it and the time after. This fact annoyed him quite a bit.

…

Around an hour later, England was again sitting in the Leaky Cauldron, but this time at a table and accompanied by a stack of books. It annoyed him that there was a part of his history he didn't know, so he had visited the bookstore in order to buy some book on the matter.

He quickly figured out that an infant named Harry Potter defeated Voldemort, and that he was supposed to be dead. That just didn't explain the feeling he'd had.

England was a quick reader, so he finished the history for the past two decades in around two hours. After that, it was time to get started on his actual goal for the trip. Figure out if Voldemort was back again. He certainly hoped not. It was so bloody difficult last time.

He quickly figured out that the Daily Prophet was not anything to trust. They didn't mention a thing other than if this boy Harry Potter, the kid to defeat Voldemort, was lying. It didn't mention what he was supposed to lie about, just that you couldn't trust him.

England's books weren't new enough to cover the happenings last year, so he decided to visit the library.

Not many people actually knew that there were a library on Diagon Alley. It wasn't on the main street, and it was small, tucked away between two hotels. But it was there and they had newspapers and magazines all the way back to before England left.

Mostly old wizards visited the place. It was a small, dusty room with shelves along the sides and places to sit at in the middle.

The librarian looked up as he entered, but didn't do anything else. He just continued reading in a magazine that looked like it was taken out of the Victorian times.

England found the newest shelf and looked over the headlines. Apparently that Quidditch World Cup had been hold last year and ended with an Irish victory (so that was why Ireland was so bloody pleased with himself that summer), but also with the Dark Mark appearing in the sky. The Dark Mark wasn't anything England was tuned into feeling, and because he was in China at that time to attend a meeting, the whole affair had gone over his head.

They had apparently also brought back the Tri-Wizard tournament. England had been there to found the games, but over the years they had evolved into something violent. Or maybe he himself had changed. Once upon a time he was a tad more, ahm, violent than now. He had stopped it in 1792 because of the high death tolls. That was the time were he still had something to say in the magical world.

And he was right. There had been another death, this time of one Cedric Diggory, a seventh-year student at Hogwarts. If you believe the paper, which England didn't, the lad died on the same day where he first felt the pain. He may not be tuned for the Dark Mark, but he will always be able to feel the killing curse. He was very much against its invention back in the days.

After the death of Mr. Diggory, the different newspapers and magazines took different approaches to the case. The biggest and most prominent, the Daily Prophet, didn't believe the words of young Harry Potter who said that he saw Voldemort rise and the others… Wait a moment.

England went back to the article to read it more carefully. So from Mr. Potter's statement, the Dark Lord had risen on a graveyard with the help of someone named "Wormtail". He had killed Cedric Diggory with the killing curse, which England had felt, and then he and Mr. Potter had had a fight were after Mr. Potter had escaped with the boy of Mr. Diggory.

That was the essence of the article, but England highly despised of the journalist. Rita Skeeter. He didn't know her, nor did he ever want to, but the entire article was written so unbelievable, that no one would believe a word of it. Unless they happened to be the personification of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.

…

After some more research, he figured out that there now was a war between the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, believed the words of Harry Potter, while the Minister, Cornelius Fudge, did everything in his might to disprove him and refused to acknowledge that Voldemort was back. A smaller magazine that solemnly focused on the Ministry of Magic reported that a woman named Dolores Umbridge was taking the position as teacher in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

England had ever thought it a good idea to mix politics and school more than necessary, so, from what he had read, it sounded like a bad idea.

…

All the research put England in a dilemma. He was absolutely sure that Voldemort was back again, but the problem was that the Ministry, the head of the Magical community, didn't believe so. They were even sending a woman to Hogwarts to make sure that no one there believed so either, just because the Minister didn't like the headmaster all that much. Then there was the problem of Harry Potter. Before England left the magical community, he was told about the prophecy. There was no doubt that Harry Potter was the child of that, and there was no doubt that Voldemort knew that too. He wasn't in much danger in Hogwarts, the probability of Voldemort to turn up there with Professor Dumbledore still there was very small. But England had always been fond of Hogwarts. He had known the founders and seen the school blossom to what it was today.

It would be easier to infiltrate Hogwarts than the ministry and England believed that it would be the wiser move. All the happenings had been at or around Hogwarts, which was where they still believed at Voldemort was back.

But he had a problem. It all sounded good, but there was nothing he could do. No matter how much he wanted, he was prohibited from interfering with the Wizarding world. It had been the only thing the 'Muggle' world and the magical world had been able to agree on, so there wasn't much England could do himself. But he wasn't the only one out there. It wasn't Nations that were prohibited, just the personification of England. He could send another.

But who? America was out of the question; he didn't believe in magic, despite his own magical community. England's own brothers was also out, they were under the same rule as himself. Ireland was a possibility. It was also part his school. But Patrick was never the type to cooperate and he couldn't just leave his duties as a nation. While England could leave it to Scotland or Wales, Ireland and Northern Ireland didn't really talk. Ireland was his own country so he couldn't just skip the meetings.

England kept on going like that for some time, and an uneasy feeling started to form in his stomach. There was, so far he could see, only one person that could, would and had the abilities to do it. France. Of all countries on the entire planet, the only one England could use was France. That bloody frog.

On the way home, a thought about that he'd forgot someone. America's brother. Who was it again? Canada, yes - that was it. He had forgotten Canada. But Canada was in the same situation as Ireland. He couldn't just leave his duties as a Nation, and while there were magical schools in Canada, Canada himself lacked the skills to become a teacher in such school.

However much England hated to admit it, France possessed those skills. Through the years he had been involved in his own magical school: Beauxbatons Academy.

England didn't really see any other choice than to invite his southern neighbour to tea.

AN.

Hello and welcome to my story! I don't know how long I plan on making it, but we'll see.

I want to say thank you to my beta-reader SilverStreaksofStardust, without her, this would probably never have been published.