Harry Potter and the Man of Britannia

Chapter 1

A Letter Sent, A Letter Given

DeiDeiArtistic: Hello a pplz! This is my first Hetalia X Harry Potter fic, and also first crossover… So tell me how I did, 'Kay? ;J Also, it's taking place during Harry's third year and up.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or Harry Potter or any of its characters; they belong to their respective owners.
Claimer: I do own though own Nazure.

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WARNING:
This chapter
has
been
BETA'D
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I

As of late, England had become quite bored. The World Meetings had become some sort of sick routine that taunts him with its foul, maddening repetition. So expected, so predictable and so detestable. They'd become so dull, and of course, unproductive. With no upcoming meeting or appointment with the queen, he had "nothing" to stress about. And for once, the paperwork was doing itself — quite literally.

England had been doing a little "Spring Cleaning" when he came across his lovely old white wand with its lovely yellow charm. The wand was specially crafted by him, hawthorn, nine inches with its unicorn hair core. A wand that was only, and perfect, for him he'd say. The golden star had been placed on his wand by a beloved friend for luck.

Coming across his wand made him realize two things — one, why he had forgotten he could have been using magic to handle his workloads of paperwork and two, how much he missed his magic community.

Thus, after up and done with the cleaning and organizing of his living space, he searched for some parchment and began to scribble down a message.

Dear Albus,

I hope you've been well these past years; I must apologize for being out-of-touch for quite a while. I know that time is more important to you than it is to me and it was wrong of me to put you aside for so long.

The reason I write to you though is that I'm afraid Muggle life has been rather tedious as of late, and I find myself yearning for Hogwarts and a return to the magical community. If it is not too rude to ask, by any chance do you have an opening for a new teacher at Hogwarts? Please send an owl with your reply when you are able.

From,
Arthur Kirkland

Satisfied with his letter, England rolled it up and tied it with an emerald, silky green ribbon. Speaking in the language of the Fae, England said out in a quite whisper, "Nazure*, would you please send this to Dumbledore of Hogwarts?"

Suddenly, a cyan-clad faerie appeared. She had shoulder-length black hair, gleaming purplish-red eyes and pale skin. Her wings were small, beautiful, and translucent and had marvelous black and gold markings across her wings that swirled about. However, looking at England, she gave a pout and crossed her arms and fluttered her wings once.

England looked at her, at first confused, but then chuckled. He held out his right palm to her, "Here,"

Nazure looked up at him and fluttered up to his hand and her feet gently landed into his palm. England brought his hand to his face and placed a kiss on top of Nazure's head. Once done with his kiss to Nazure, he moved his hand away to see Nazure's blushing facing, who was rather too embarrassed to look England in the face while her hands where behind her back as she swung them side-to-side in a bashful manner.

England chuckled, "There. Now, did you like that?"

Nazure only blushed and gave a small ghost of a whisper, "Yes…But, the letter is far too big for me to carry Arthur. Would you mind, shrinking it?" Nazure looked at England with beady eyes.

England gave a small laugh, "You just want me to perform magic, now don't you— you sly little fox you." Nazure gave a small smirk. "But I can't see the reason to not to. I'd like to see how much I can remember with magic— even though you are very much well capable of shrinking objects, now aren't you Nazure?"

Nazure only giggled at this. In truth, Nazure was quite the joker of the faeries, finding it quite funny when England would become baffled when he discovered that his boxers became finger mittens or his home being the size of a Lolly Locket* toy house or he himself being the size of a scone.

England placed the roll of parchment between his palms and began to push inward. Normally, doing such would crumple up the paper in odd shapes and angles. However, that was not the case, not even by the slightest. Instead, with each push, the paper became a size smaller until England's hand clapped together and at the center of his hand was a miniature roll of parchment no bigger than a paperclip.

Nazure seized the paper and flew off, thought not before quickly turning back to England to place a small kiss on his cheek. Then, smiling victoriously, she left with a trail of giggles following behind her as she disappeared in the blink of an eye. England placed a hand over his cheek before giving a small chortle.

After she had left, England left to go make brew some tea. While placing a sugar cube into his tea, he saw, or rather heard, that he had received a text from the sound of The Star Spangled Banner going off. He opened up his phone to see whatever the reason America had texted him for.

[From: Alfred F. Jones]
[To: Arthur Kirkland]
Iggy! Dude, watz wrong?
[August 30th: 6:12 PM]

England furrowed his brows. How dare America defile — no! — butcher his language like that! Watz! He spelt it like "watz"! It's is spelt "W-H-A-T-APOSTROPHE-S"! — not "W-A-T-Z"! Angrily, England started to text back.

[From: Arthur Kirkland]
[To: Alfred F. Jones]
Watz! You spelt it like watz! Alfred! It is spelt like "What's" not "watz"! And I told you thousan-
[August 30th: 6:17 PM]

« ds of times not to call me "Iggy" or "Dude"!

England sent the second part of the message and it wasn't before long that he had gotten a reply.

— Take a chill pill Iggy, I don't lik it wen ur mad. Or do I? ;) Anyways, I'll call u Iggy as long as

— I want bcuz ur MINE! So WHAT'S wrong? Ur acting odd now. Tell ur BF what's wrong? Myb I can help. ;3

England grimaced and stared at the text America sent back. About a month ago or so, America made a startling announcement.

…

England was shuffling through his notes with the G30 meeting at its end. It was a typical meeting, filled with mayhem, international economies and financial concerns. It was just tedious matters and this was a sort of job England would work until his end, a thought that did not muse him at all. But it wasn't like he had a choice in the matter. It was how the world worked now — as it always has.

But that didn't matter because once England gathered all his things, he could just shove them in his valise and head off home to relax. Or go out. Whichever came first, it didn't matter to him. So stacking his papers, he clipped them together and stuffed them inside his valise and was up about to leave before America loudly cleared his throat to stop everybody from from their tracks.

Germany was not impressed. "America, I told you if you had something to say, you should have said it during the meeting. You will have to wait until the next meeting to propose your idea."

"But this has got nothing to do with the meeting, and what I have to say has been waiting for long enough." America said as he stood up straight and tall, and held a determined look about his face.

"Well then, what is it that you have to say?" Australia asked, turning towards America as he hung his briefcase over his shoulder.

America was silent for a moment as if he was recollecting on his thoughts, or doing one of those "building suspense" moments just so he could rile everyone up for something stupid. If that was just the thing he was doing, England was going to wring his neck. Just thinking about it already made him want to choke America.

"England," America said, gazing firmly at England with his lips pressed together, but there was a slight waver in America's bottom lip concluding that he was not as composed as he made himself to be. This wasn't going to be good England thought as he turned his attention towards the American nation. "England… I love you."

Yep, this wasn't good at all.

"Aw! Che dolce America!"* Italy sighed as he hugged his folder at the "lovely" display.

"Oi! You're treading on thin ice mate…" Australia warned as he took a step towards America, who in turn took a step back.

France let out a laugh as a sly Cheshire smile appeared on his lips, a mischievous glint sparkling in his eyes. "America—! I would have never guessed that you— America— loved England. Though truthfully, if you asked me—"

"Shut up France! No one is asking you anything!" England growled as he decked a pencil at the French nation just before making his way towards the door. A couple of drinks sounded good right about now. But perhaps that was a little too much to ask for as somebody clasp their hand on his shoulder. And that somebody was unfortunately the Frenchman.

"England, are you just going to leave like that? I believe our America has said something important to you." France deadpanned with a slightly irritated look about his face. Did England actually hit him with the pencil he threw? If so, he deserved a pat on the back. Nevertheless, it wasn't time to celebrate because right now he still had a monkey on his back (well two if you counted America).

Scowling, England turned towards America to see that the young nation had his shoulders slumped and a worried expression on his face. Sighing with his nose, England narrowed his eyes and sneered. "Nice joke." And with that, England left America with a cold shoulder.

Making his way down the hall, England gasped when somebody seized his upper arm and forced him to turn around. It was America with a hurt look upon his face. "What… What was that? Why did you just leave?" He asked, trying to understand what just happened a moment ago. "Why do you think what I said was a joke?"

England scoffed. "Hmm… That is a good question. Why would I ever think a confession as random as that was a joke? Golly, how foolish of me was it to think that." England spat out sarcastically. "America, I don't know what you're up to, but cut the crap. Got it?" And again, England tried to hurry away from America.

"Wha—? No—No—No! England! Wait! I'm not joking! I'm being serious!" America called out to catch up with England.

"So am I!" England shouted out as picked up his speed.

"England! I do love you! Please! Why are you doing this? Why are you making me look like a fool?" America asked, halting himself from walking into England as the English nation suddenly stopped in his tracks.

Turning around, England wore an agitated look upon his face. "I make you look like a fool? Please America, you can already do that by yourself. I, or you, can't make anyone do anything. I didn't make you confess. You did that on your own." England said coldly. "If anyone is humiliated it is me because I never asked you to… to… To—To confess of all things!"

"But I—"

SMACK.

"I heard you once, I don't need to hear it again." England scowled as he retracted his hand. "Know this America, whatever emotion you think you feel is wrong. Stop it. I don't need your love, I don't want it, and I don't love you no matter how much you 'love' me. So I shall this once and you will do your best to remember it. Don't ever tell me that you love me."

Staring at America with a semi-disgusted look, England turned his heel and left, smirking as he heard America shout out "Go to Hell England!"

"As if I could America!" England retorted back before the smirk on his lips faulted. "There's no other place I would imagine myself to be."

…

England was leaned against his door frame, his arms crossed along with his ankles. There was an unamused look about his face as he stared at the American before him. For America to drop by so unannounced, England felt annoyed by America's rudeness. Honestly, what would have America done if England wasn't home. At least he had the decency to use the door and not jump* into his home.

"What do you want?" England asked. America shifted on his feet.

"Canada said I should tell you I'm sorry."

"Oh, and here I thought you were going to apologize out of the goodness of your heart."

"N-No! No! I am sorry 'bout before, but… I just… I wasn't excepting you to do that."

"And what you expecting me to do? Confess as well and state that I have been madly in love with you and I would just fall into your arms and everything will be dandy? Just like that?"

America grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck, adverting his gaze. "Well not like that, but… You know."

"Well, I'm sorry to say that life doesn't work out the way you want it to be. I would know after all."

"England…"

"America, if that it all you have to say, then good day." England said, standing up straight as he grabbed the door and gave a look at America that told the American nation that he had other things to do than to just stand at his doorway.

America shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the ground before him, scuffing his shoes on the pebbled dirt beneath him. At England's goodbye, America nodded and raised a hand, waving sheepishly as if it was a sign of defeat. "Y-Yeah… Good day," America murmured as he turned from England and began to make his way down the trail of dirt and towards his car that lie on the dirt road surround by the fields of grass and trees. "Yeah, good day it is…"

Watching America's fleeing form, England noted a staleness of the air and sighed, closing the door to finish the rest of his day.

…

England grimaced at the memories and jammed at the keys to text back a reply.

— Alfred! I'm not your BF and never will you git! And I'm not acting odd as you say. I'm just bored.

England sent the message before having a sudden realization and sent forth another text.

— And no you cannot "entertain" me!

After having sent that, it wasn't long before he'd gotten a text from America.

— Aww… Y r u bored?

— Because everything is just so… predictable. Ordinary. Practical. Boring.

— Am I predictable?

England starred at the text for only a moment's notice.

— Yes. »*

After having sent that message, he never got a reply back from America. At first, he thought about apologizing to America, but he wasn't sure why he'd do that. It wasn't like he cared if America was alright or not. And besides, he couldn't care less if America was hurt; the git bothered him so much to insanity as it was.

Taking a sip of his tea, he began to hear a particular scratching sound. Turning his head, he saw that a grey owl was flapping outside his window. Setting down his tea, he quickly walked over to the window, minding the coffee table at the center of the living room, and opened up the window, where the owl swooped in dropping an envelope into his hands and perched itself onto the coat-rack.

Opening up the envelope, he pulled out the letter and began to read.

To Arthur Kirkland,

Good day to you too — or perhaps night, or even afternoon — whenever this letter arrives to you. Yes, you may teach at Hogwarts! A brilliant idea indeed! The student will learn so much with you around; you seem so knowledgeable of the world of magic and Muggles! Has the Muggle world been so tiring for you? Well, who could not live a life with magic? Muggles, I can never really quite understand them, they are quite odd sometimes… Though, I must say I do enjoy their lemon drops. When you drop by at Hogwarts, I'd like to speak with you about your teaching position and such.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

P.S. The little faerie you sent here, quite the trickster she is. She shrunk my hat so small it fits my finger! But that's not all, she also shrunk Fawkes! He's currently wearing my miniature hat at this moment.

Arthur chuckled as he read the letter, a funny man that Dumbledore was. But, he was also quite eager as well. Hogwarts! He'll be teaching at Hogwarts! Oh how much he missed it. He wondered how much had changed since the last time he went to Hogwarts, or in fact, how much the wizarding community changed.

He quickly left for his room and began packing clothes, materials and anything he thought was important to take. As he was going through his closet, he found himself picking up and old, wore-down leather brown book. The gold-leaf of the printed font was faded and chipped off, but Arthur could still see, the embedded markings the printed created in the cover. However, even then, he couldn't make out the faded text. Dusting the cover off, he opened its content to find that it was a photo album. The pictures shifted from drawn portraits to monochromes to daguerreotypes and lastly to digital photos.

"Should I take this?" England thought to himself, "But I have no need for it. I mean, why would I make my luggage heavier than it needs to be?" He placed the album back into his closet and left. However he came back and grabbed the book, "W-Well, it's not like a few more weights in my luggage is that much of a burden. I mean, it's not like I have that much in it anyways… And looking at old photos is fun! It's not like I care who's in it! Aha-ha-ha…" England hesitantly laughed.

By the time he was down packing, England plopped onto his couch and rested his head on the couch cushions to take a small nap. However, before he could doze off, he was interrupted by the howling of an owl, "What the—?" England questioned before remembering the owl on his coat-rack. Then, a sudden thought occurred to him, "Blimey! I forgot I need someone to cover for me during the World Meeting! But whom to ask…" England wondered. "Cadel, since he is the only other representative I can at least trust."

England grabbed for the nearest pen and paper and began to write to his brother Cadel Kirkland, or Wales in terms of National being.

Cadel,

I'm going to Hogwarts to teach. I need you to take my position as representative of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland at the World Meetings as you're the only one I can trust and you're the only one I don't dislike as much.

-Arthur

P.S. If you see that little prat, kick him out and send him home!

England called for the owl and tied the message on to the owl's leg.

"Take this to Wales. I'm sure you know who I'm talking about." The owl cocked its head, as if to say "Yes", and left out the opened window.

England closed the window and headed to his bathroom to brush his teeth and whatnot. After changing into his nightgown, England tucked himself to bed, wondering about the nearby future with a smile plastered on his face.

i

Nazure* — Nah-shjur-ray

Lolly Locket* — Like a certain famous (?) tiny plastic girl toy that starts with a "P".

« » and — :This is part of French punctuation-grammar rules, and although I wasn't using any sort of French, I decided to use it as a sort of format to show that that is a text and not some sort of emphasis and blah… It probably isn't necessary, but… Yeah. O3o

Aw! Che dolce America!* — Aw! How cute America!

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Yes! As you can see, I got myself my very first Beta, who we will cherish and address as: hollowtearsofjoy

So, previous and new chapters will be beta'd by hollowtearsofjoy. Thank-you my lovely beta~!

EDIT: 07-06-14: I made some changes in this chapter, editing, adding, and taking out a few scenes.

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