Disclaimer: I do not own neither Harry Potter or Axis Powers Hetalia. They belong to their respective creators. The oc's mentioned belong to my friend and me.
He tossed for what was probably the third and a half time that night and sighed. It had been two weeks since he'd left for the Dursley's with Arthur, and he had yet to speak to the man. It was really starting to piss him off. Honestly, How many times was he going to have to tell them that he was a good guy? He had done nothing but keep his mouth shut, which honestly, Harry didn't blame him for. There was a rumor around the house that they were thinking of using veritaserum, and as far as Harry was concerned, that was a bit out of hand. He was about ready to go and wake the man up, and the only thing keeping him from such an act was that fact that the man seemed to be getting a terribly low amount of sleep.
He groaned for the ninth time as he sat up swiftly, retreating from his bed angrily and heading downstairs. He was careful not to wake up the portrait of Mrs. Black, but other than that he was being as obnoxiously loud as he could be. He let cups ring as they hit the counter, he let the water woosh as it fell from the faucet, and he groaned audibly when he realized there was no microwave. Silly him, he forgot- a house full of of Wizards didn't have muggle appliances. Except refrigerators.
He didn't quite understand that one.(1)
"Awake too, are you?"
He turned on a dime, adrenaline pulsing through at the sudden bout of words, only to have all his anger slip away. "Arthur!" He smiled, hugging him tightly, causing the blonde to chuckle.
"Benett(2), Harry, I didn't think you'd miss me this much."
"Of course I did!" Harry smiled. "I've hardly gotten to see you all two weeks! I'd sneak in, but you've hardly gotten any sleep, I hear."
"That is true, but it's only partially from this predicament."
"Eh? Wot's wrong?"
"Family troubles," Arthur sighed, grabbing the kettle from the one cabinet Harry had yet to check and filling it with water. "A few of my acquaintances will be quite... put out, to find me missing. And with all this scrutiny, I daren't give them a ring."
"Eh? They're not barring you from going out and making a phone call, are they? I know you have a cell phone with you, I saw you grab it before we left for Privet Drive."
"I've sneaked out a few times. Can't get any signal."
"That's horrible... they won't be too worried, will they?"
"Wot, them? Ha, doubt it. Rosie, yes, but no one else really cares too much... they care, I suppose, just for all the wrong reasons(3)."
"Do I need to try and find her? I could tell her you're alright."
"No, no, that's fine," Arthur brushed off as he placed the kettle on the burner and turned towards the biscuit jar. "She's got her sisters to calm her down. And even so, she'll probably find me."
Arthur shrugged. "I'm not sure, really. She just does. Sometimes I think she's got a tracker on me or something."
Harry laughed a bit. "What is she, your stalker?"
His smile quirked playfully as he grabbed a few biscuits, nibbling on one as he enjoyed some sort of private mirth, a favorite memory perhaps. "Something like that."
Harry accepted a biscuit, nodding his thank you and nibbling at it. They sat there in silence for a bit, just enjoying each others company and brewing a pot of earl gray. A wonderfully peaceful transition, considering all that was going about. It was Arthur who broke the silence.
Harry jumped as if snapping from a trance. "Yes... how'd you know?"
"I've been a few times. Muggle court, but the look and feel never really changes."
"Muggle court? Wot for?"
"Oh this and that... mostly occurrences from the 80's," A warm, recollection smile graced his features, his eyes glazing as if traveling back in time. "Wild years, they were... "
"The 80's? But you're 23, right? You would've been only 9 in '81... " Despite this discrepancy, Arthur's smile never left his face.
"Not everything is as it appears, Harry. You of all people should know that."
The whistle blew, and Arthur's focus was once more on tea. Once served, Harry allowed himself to ask the question he'd been bothering with the past minute and a half. "So how old are you then?"
"Old enough for wot?"Arthur sighed. It was an aged tired that filled his visage rather than a sleep-deprived one. He sipped at the liquid in his cup, sending a visible shiver down his system. His eyes flashed with more and more weighty memories as the seconds progressed, and Harry suddenly felt he'd hit a sensitive button. "Just... old enough."
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude... "
"It's alright, really," Harry watched as the blonde pulled out of his mood, making it disappear as if it had never been there in the first place. He hid his emotions like a pro. "I hate thinking on my age is all. Every old man does I suppose,"
"Old is hardly the word I'd call you."
Harry felt relief when a smile quirked on the corners of Arthur's lips. "Thanks for that."
They chattered on for about an hour or so, little yawns and chortles pulling from opposite throats as the night progressed. It was about 3 when they finally realized the time and set off for bed.
"So you don't mind if I visit?"
"Not at all, Harry, not at all. You're company's a pleasure to entertain."
They smiled at each other and waved slightly, Harry heading towards his room and Arthur continuing upstairs. He wasn't going to wake up in the morning, not until 10 at least, but his trial wasn't for another few weeks, so it really didn't matter what time he woke up the next day. He couldn't go to Diagon Alley until afterward, it turned out- and with Ron and Hermione insisting on not going until he could join them, he had nothing to do, really, except to wait.
"Harry... ?" Ron mumbled sleepily as Harry slipped the door closed. "Wot're you doing up this- " he was cut off by a rather large yawn. "late... ?" Harry merely slipped past him and into his bed, removing his glasses and placing them on the nightstand like he'd had them not two hours prior.
"It's nothing, Ron. Go back to sleep."
He was careful not to upset his supposed 'keepers', both of which consisted of a straggly, deranged looking man who was just slightly obsessive over his hair and a lupine featured one with streaks of gray framing a young, tired, but determined face. He was kept under continuous scrutiny, and as to not annoy their edginess further, had strayed clear of the kitchen or anything he could end up burning anything with. He had shown a few spells, common ones that everyone knew, really, and was fortunate enough to have grabbed his rarely used wand on afterthought that morning of departure. So far they knew he knew the basics, and by word of mouth, they knew his house was a secure property behind plenty of defensive charms and repellants. How else would they be unable to find Harry with all their furious searching? This was good- revealing only enough to keep them satisfied, but not enough to hang himself with.
Truth be told, they knew far more than they thought, or they would if they would just talk to Harry. He knew they didn't take his observations seriously, despite his growing maturity and slow advance into adulthood. His friends listened, and he was sure his own guards would listen as well if they weren't so busy scrutinizing his every move. He tried not too seem secretive or unpleasant, but something about no privacy tended to bring out the worst in him. It was like he was meeting a main assailant to attempt at repeated peace negotiations when both he and his adversary knew they'd have far too many more fights before this war was played out. This feeling of always watching, always being watched... It was maddening.
It kind of reminded him of the Cold War, now that he thought about it.
He poured his tea, the only thing he dared make in the cramped, tiled room they called a kitchen; sighing as weariness washed over him. He was going to crack soon if he didn't talk to somebody. Not that there weren't people to chat with, he just found the conversation rather... lacking; and a bit too personal for his tastes. Not that he could blame them, or anything. If what he'd heard through the grapevine was truth, they were already deep in the throes of a war their own community wouldn't accept, not even when their 'savior' was screaming at them to listen. It was saddening to think wizarding society had become corrupt enough not to listen to the youth. It was they who saw more, they who in their infinite wisdom and purity truly understood the world as it should be. He was getting rather ancient himself, he'd not deny it, but even he kept a portion of his soul pure enough to connect with his roots. It was often all he had left these days.
"Oh! I'm terribly sorry, I didn't know anyone was down here."
Eyes led away from his tea. He spied Hermione fidgeting slightly in embarrassment I the doorway. She was a rather cute girl, he thought, with that curly, dirty blonde hair and those intelligent hazel eyes. She had a cute face also, and slim shoulders- if he hadn't been so old, he might have flirted a bit. As of now, however, he was 21 going on ancient, and knew better than to dabble in the lives of under-aged women; he wasn't French.
"No no, that's quite alright," He said, smiling softly at an attempt not to scare her away. He needed a light conversation right now... or one that was more inquisitive than probing at least. An extra ally wouldn't hurt either. "I was just drinking my tea. There's a bit extra in the kettle if you'd like to join me."
She looked intrigued by the offer. This was a good sign.
"I'd hate to be a bother."
"Not a bother at all, I was growing rather lonesome anyways."
"Oh... Well if you're sure, then I'd be glad to join you, Mr... " She blushed slightly. "Ah-i'm sorry, I seem to have forgotten your name," Arthur laughed slightly, more at her shyness than anything. She was like Elizabeta... without the frying pan... or Gilbert.
"Kirkland. Arthur Kirkland."
Her small, sunkissed hands took the tips of her skirt, and she bowed her head slightly, lifting the ends even slighter, and Arthur felt as if he had traveled back to the times of knights and dragons; a time when every woman, peasant or noble, had grace and charm because that was what a lady was supposed to have and that was what every lady strived for. It was a time he missed more than he'd care to admit. She smiled playfully at him, eyes sparkling with a will that he knew was hidden well by such an effeminate gesture. Curtsy or not, this girl was pretty tough.
"Hermione Granger. It's a pleasure."
He nodded his head in a bit of a bow. It was only polite, after all. "Likewise I'm sure."
Without further delay, Hermione took her seat next to him and Arthur poured her tea. The conversation was rather light, ranging from what her parents did to what Arthur's employment consisted of. He'd told her that he was a caretaker for the forest he lived in, which was truth. He told her that his employers were rather happy with how he was keeping his land. This was true as well, for he'd never seen such a cheerful conglomeration of fairies in all his post-medieval years. She spoke of her schooling, how she was juggling as many classes as she could, and he told her that he vaguely remembered only that his years at Hogwarts had been rather enjoyable.
Conversation progressed rather kindly, talk traveling through a variety of subjects, until it settled on one in particular that... well, Arthur had expected it to reach him sooner or later.
"It's difficult, really," Hermione said, placing her cup down onto it's saucer gently. "He can be so easy to trust... I worry sometimes that he's being taken advantage of."
"I understand the feeling," He sighed in agreement. "I have a... an acquaintance of sorts. He's relatively new in politics as far as the rest of us go, and he tends toward... rather naïve if not idiotic ideas... He's nothing like Harry, not in the least, but that trusting innocence is there... that hero complex."
"Wot's his name?"
"Ahh." She smiled up at him "You must be close. You talk so fondly of him."
Arthur flushed instantly. "E-e-excuse me? No, nono, we're not close a t'oll! He's such a divy; always has to be the centa of attention, tha' hippocrite, and 'e never takes care of 'imself, 'e pract'c'ly ignores poor Matthew, an', an'-" his fist came down hard on the, a small indent pushing it's way into the wood. "An' I can' bloo'y stand 'im!"(4)
He took a few seconds to calm down, but once he registered the shocked expression on Hermione's face, he had the decency to blush in embarrassment. "S-sorry, I didn't mean to- " He sighed again, looking down a bit. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to blow up at you."
"N-no... no, that's fine," She said, recovering herself. "I pried a bit. I should be the one apologizing... um, but I see what you mean. About Harry, that is, with the trusting. Not that I can complain or anything, Ron and I do the same thingsometimes... Maybe it's because we're younger?"
"That's partially it. It also has to do with the sort of background you have, though age and experiences both play an important role... I in particular have difficulty trusting others in... well, in almost anything."
Arthur shrugged a bit. "It hurts too much, I suppose... That's why I'm so surprised at how fast I warmed up to Harry. He's such a pure child... I can't imagine him causing any sort of harm... Not maliciously, at least."
Hermione nodded in agreement, the implications sinking meaningfully into her calculating mind. It was difficult to not trust this man, and she couldn't seem to fathom as too why. They'd met many a person who seemed kind and good-intentioned only to have themselves betrayed, and here was Arthur Kirkland, quiet and mysterious, and she couldn't help but trust him. Talking to him felt like when she tapped into her magic after a long muggle-summer filled with studying, and chores, and that horrible temptation to flick her wand and just see a few sparks, or the light switch on at the other side of the room. It was different than the other adults, because she could feel their magic only when they were of high emotion, or performing some sort of intense magical feat.
With Arthur, he didn't even have to do anything, just sit there. Magic radiated off of him like a comforting aura, buzzing about the air and energizing her very core. It took hold of her and made her feel light and happy, and, and- she could barely explain it. Harry had difficulties doing this as well, and Ron, well, he couldn't feel it as strongly, but it was still there. Arthur Kirkland was one powerful wizard whether he knew it or not.
"Hermione! So this's where you've been!"
Both of the room's occupants looked up to see a slightly flustered Mrs. Weasley, hair straggling a bit out of it's usual style, but tame nonetheless. She hurried over, fussing about the kitchen as she did so.
"Harry and Ron have been looking all over for you dear. Want to talk about something or other- Oh! Mr. Kirkland, I didn't see you there. I found myself fancying some Earl Gray; care for a spot?"
"No thank you, Ma'am," He replied with a shake of his head, cleaning his cup in the sink and putting it in the dish drainer. "I've already drained a cup or two myself chattering with Miss Granger. Terribly sorry if it was an inconvenience."
"Not at all, dear, not at all. Shall you be retiring to your room then?"
"Yes, for a spell. I've not been sleeping well these past few nights."
"Hardly a wonder wot with you being holed up in a house of strangers. I'll try not to bother you then."
"I appriciate it,"
"Supper will be in a few hours. I'll send someone up to fetch you when it's ready."
"Alright, Thank you."
"You're welcome, dear."(5)
"Sleep tight, Mr. Kirkland!" Hermione called softly before he disappeared into the hall that connected to the stairwell, and ultimately, his quarters.
"Sweet man," Molly said, pulling out the various ingredients she'd need. "I can't fathom why everyone's so suspicious of him- he's been nothing but polite since he came here."
"They're just worried about Harry."
"I know they are, dear. We all are. Especially Sirius and Remus- they're his godparents, afterall."
"I still think they should talk to Harry about it. He's spent the most time with him."
"Thank you for your imput, Hermione," Came Remus's tired chuckle as he entered the room and took a seat. "Believe me, I have no intention of disregarding Harry's thoughts on this matter. I just want to make sure we're not being-"
"Royally screwed over by some sadistic manipulative bastard?"
"Sirius!" Remus sighed. Sirius swaggered over with a short stride, seating himself in his usual chair; the one right next to Remus. He was still a bit straggly, but that was Azkaban residue- nothing could wash him of it. He looked better though, healthier; of course, that might have been largely in part thanks to Molly's cooking. The rest was because he was so god damn obsessive over his hair,. He'd currently gifted himself with the rather unique project of grooming it back to its former length and lustre. Remus was just glad all it did to his Animagus form was produce a shiny coat.
"You can never be too careful Remus. Not after Moody got replaced all last year-"
"Last year, Siri. Security's much better now. Besides, he's been here almost four weeks, don't you think he'd have tried to kill us at least once already had that been his intention?"
The suspicious look on Sirius' face was obvious to everyone as he stroked his chin in a nervous gesture of thinking. "Still. I don't want to be too easygoing. Not even Dumbledore's heard of this guy, and Dumbledore knows everything!"
"Honestly, Sirius, all those years in Azkaban have robbed you of your rationality," Molly said as she threw some ingredients into a bowl and set it to stir. "Not everyone's out to get you," His reply was a slight glare.
"No, but wot about Harry? A lot of people are out to get him!"
"I highly doubt Arthur's going to murder me in my sleep."
That sigh pooled all their attentions as Harry entered the room and headed for the fridge. He had been a little upset at the lack of information he'd been getting as of late in regards to his well-being and safety, so he wasn't very happy. It didn't help that he never seemed to get any privacy with his new friend, either. "Could you all just let up on him a bit? He wasn't ever this nervous when it was just us."
"That could very well mean he's up to something!"
"Sirius, quiet. We're just worried about you, Harry. We don't want to see you hurt," Remus said as he squeezed the boy's shoulder. "But if it'll make you feel better, I'll talk to the others about letting up. Sirius might not be happy about it, but If Dumbledore says it's alright I suppose we could ease our grip."
"Alright... " Harry muttered, finishing off his water before refilling it for later. "I just wish you'd listen to my thoughts on this... He's not a bad guy," And let me talk to the man for God sakes!, he thought too himself. Ron and Hermione had already apologized profusely for not keeping in good touch since the beginning of the summer, and while he couldn't bring himself to hate them for listening to the Order members, he could still be upset about it. They could have at least gotten him away from the Dursleys, or something...
"Sorry, Harry," Sirius said, puppy eyes out and Harry already starting to forgive him. "I just can't seem to reign in my paranoia. It's not that I don't trust your judgment, I've just... We've already lost Lily and James, I don't want to go through that with you too... "
"It's alright, Sirius," Harry said, breaking down and giving the recovering man a hug. "I can't fathom how this is affecting you, but I just know you'd really like him if you gave him a chance... "
"I'll try, pup," Sirius said as he released the boy and ruffled his hair. "But you be careful, ok? You may know him better, but you've still only known him a day or two more than the rest of us. It's too dangerous to place your faith in someone you've known for so little."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Good," Remus cut in. "Now that that's settled, you really should get me the recipe for this tea, Molly. It's positively euphoric."
"Oh I didn't make it. I only just came in before the two of you."
"Hmm?" Sirius questioned, looking up. "Then who made it?"
"Mr. Kirkland," Hermione smiled, standing and tugging on Harry's sleeve. "You and Ron wanted to talk with me?"
"Yeah. Well you know that potions essay we have to get finished? Well we were hoping for a bit of help... "
There was about 6 days left until Harry's hearing, and Number 12 Grimwauld Place had been all but hospitable. Most of their activities consisted of housecleaning, and thanks to a constant effort, they'd almost tackled every room in the house. The only real nuisance was that boggart they had yet to find the appropriate methods of dealing with, and honestly, it was starting to look like Molly's tidiness might overrun her thoughts on how dangerous a boggart was or could be.
Remus was tired, and Sirius's constant paranoia wasn't helping any, but at least he could sleep through the night. Yes, he generally had to be there and calm Sirius for it to happen, but he was sleeping, and that's what really counted in the end.
They were currently waiting for Dumbledore and Severus to appear with any news on Voldermort, the Ministry, and whatever else they were going to need. Sirius was still upset that he had to allow Severus into his house, but he was keeping quiet with his protests tonight- The potions master was dropping off a Wolfsbane potion for him to take on the 10th since he would be busy then. Remus wouldn't doubt that the Slytherin head probably didn't want to be there just as much if not more so than Sirius.
He glanced at Kirkland, sipping his tea gingerly and reading up on something in Gaelic. He'd been rather compliant as of late, but it was an compliancy in the most non-compliant form. He'd been called on this a few days prior, and had responded simply with "I feel a bit punkish."
Not that anyone understood what that meant or anything.
Molly was shuffling about, humming softly to herself as she fixed dinner. Even with the fate of the wizarding world heavy on their minds, they could always count on Molly to keep things in order. She set a mug of tea down in front of her husband who looked like he'd been chewed up and and spit back out a few times. Things at the Ministry didn't seem to be fairing well. All they'd gotten out of him before his collapse at the table was some halfhearted mumble about laylines.
"Ah, yes, yes, thank you, Severus."
The collective looked up as Dumbledore stepped through the threshold of the kitchen, his small, knowing smile proceeding the unwanting grimace of the irate potions master following behind him. They drew up chairs immediately, Severus taking on of the empty ones at the table and Dumbledore creating something soft, and comforting, and warm, before settling himself into that.
"Hullo, Albus," Molly chirped as she spotted him. He gave her a charming smile.
"Hullo, Molly, delighted to see you. Might I trouble you for a cup of tea?"
"But of course. It'll be done in a jiffy."
Remus smiled at his former headmaster. "Hullo Albus. Severus. Doing well, I hope?"
"Splendid, Remus, simply splendid. And how are you, Sirius?"
"Bored as hell and stir-crazy," Sirius replied in a half-mad voice. "Merlin, if I have to spend one more week inside this house I'll go mad!"
"Now Siri, you know that-"
"Yes, yes, Moony, I know. I just didn't think that breaking out of prison would get me thrown into another one!"
Remus took a sigh of relief as Molly placed down cups of tea, one for Sirius, Dumbledore, Severus, Arthur and himself, distracting the conversation slightly as everyone gave thanks in some form or another. Kettle in hand, she refilled Kirkland's cup, thoroughly startling him from his book.
"Thank you kindly," He mumbled softly, nodding toward her more shy than polite, and with much more respect than he showed any of the other adults. She simply smiled, pat him on the head, and headed back towards the stove.
By now, Dumbledore had grown a keen interest on Mr. Kirkland. On one hand he was tense, uncooperative, and sketchy; on the other, he was shy and misunderstood. He'd seen many a person of this calibre, but no one nearly as powerful. That magic that radiated from him wasn't the minimal flicker of most wizards, it was a dull wave that could be turned into a powerful roar if unleashed. At the current, it was timid and controlled, and from the man's disposition, he wasn't sure of anything short of his professionalism, and Harry's faith in the man. He seemed trustworthy enough, more so than Quirrel had been when hired, more so when Crouch had seemed when impersonating Mad Eye, and even more so than some of his own staff, even with the knowledge that they were the best people in all of England. It was also quite curious that Severus knew him- a conjecture he imposed from the subtle shock the potion's master had been experiencing from the moment Kirkland had been noticed to this very instant. The look of recognition, while startling, was more reputable for Kirkland than anyone- He hadn't seen any sort of kindness reach the man's eyes short of an interaction with Draco, or the subtle, unconscious, over-protective nature towards Harry- and this look was reminiscent of when the man spoke of Lily, however briefly and rare that may have been.
"Mr. Kirkland, I presume?" He spoke with a quirk, as per usual; his eyes alight with curiosity and mystery. He was vaguely surprised to find that Kirkland looked him strait in the eye- not a waver, not a glance, or a constant stare mixed with awe or disdain, but an actual straight look of complete and total confidence in himself and in what he believed. It was remarkable to find someone with such a strong will in this day and age.
"I am," He nodded, firm and confident, yet with an air of modesty. He sipped at his tea again. "You must be Albus Dumbledore. I've heard a great many things about you."
"All of them great, I trust?"
"Impressionable, in the least."
"Yes, yes, quite. I, on the other hand, have heard scarcely anything on yourself. Care to enlighten me a bit?"
"Not particularly, but out of politeness, I shall," He took a sip of his tea before setting it down. "My Name is Arthur London Kirkland. I believe myself to be rather impressionable in the negative sense, especially when under stress, scrutany, annoyance, or any other such negative cultural influences. I love tea and biscuits, I am rather proud of the United Kingdom and all of it's achievements, distolerate any form of ungentlemanly behavior, have raised many ungrateful brats within my years, and... well, i suppose I could be considered a bit of a recluse," He took another sip of his tea. "Anything else, sir?"
Dumbledore kept his eyebrow raised, stubborn green eyes meeting head on with sparkling, mischievous blue, and Dumbledore took a few moments to keep the challenge alive. This Arthur had character.
"I would rather like to hear your meeting of our young Harry- in your words, if you please."
"I found him in my forest, cold, shivering, and bloody. I took him home, cleaned him up, kept him warm- wrapt in a good dozen quilts or so. When he woke up, I told him where he was. We exchanged pleasantries over soup. He didn't want to return to his summer residence, so I offered a room at mine. He accepted, and we headed to Number 4 Privet Drive to collect his things."
"Is that all?"
"Give or take a meeting or two with a bunch of hyperactive faeries? Yes, that is all."
"Hm," Dumbledore's head tilted slightly as he kept Arthur's gaze a few more seconds before the blonde broke it himself- not out of loss of will or anything similar, but more to enjoy a satisfying savoring at his Darjeeling. "I do have one further inquiry, Mr. Kirkland."
Kirkland's eyes opened and stared into his own, half daring the headmaster to ask him anything. I'll be ready they told him. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled back. Defensive and ready as this man may be, he knew for a fact he would be caught off guard in just a moment's time.
"How do you care for the title of 'Professor'?"
The room was a horrid mess. Clothes were strewn everywhere, books knocked off their shelves, drawers pulled from their dressers and flung to the floor, nothing but pure chaos. There was a dent in the wall that would need fixing later, and a furious black smear of ritual ink was strewn across three and a half walls, four lamps, and a mirror. Most precious objects were relatively unharmed, but a few of the more personal ones seemed to be missing- an intricately carved ash wand, a thick, leather bound spell and field book, several vials, and a pair of Union Jack boxers.
There was a pause in which the mess was indicated, another in which it was assessed, and a third in which a sigh pulled from a pair of lips at the exact moment a harmonious arm crossing, bridge pinching, and balance shift took place. Baibin(6) shook her head, tutting softly at the mess. Honestly, there was no reason for panic.
"Rosalyn!" She called. "Rosie, get out here!"
Silence reigned for a few moments before a shuffle from the upstairs level sounded, soon fallowed by a few more, heralding the arrival of her sister(7), who was just short of lighting her own fuse in explicit worry over the unbeknownst location of one Arthur Kirkland. She had tears in her eyes and everything.
"Rosie... " Baibin sighed, half pulling, half being tackled into a hug by the near-hysterics ocean who was crying and whimpering, and flipping out in general over Arthur's disappearance.
"I can't find him!" She cried so hard it was difficult to make out the words. "He's gone! What if he's been kidnapped! Or worse, killed! Or- or what if he left and isn't ever going to come back, or-!"
Baibin clamped her hand over Rosie's mouth, silencing the poly-color-haired girl and her incessant ramblings. "I'm sure he's fine, Rosie," She murmured, petting her sister's hair back into order. It had been sticking every which way for the good portion of the afternoon, or so she assumed. "This is England, remember? If he were dead, we wouldn't be here, would we."
Rosie shook her head.
"And the country seems no worse for wear since your last visit, does it."
Rosie shook her head again.
"So doesn't it make sense that everything's absolutely fine?"
Rosie seemed hesitant in her nod. "B-but Baibin, he's-!"
"I know, I know, but how far have you looked?"
She nodded again.
"Did you check with Howell(8)?"
She nodded a third time.
"What about with Jason(9)?"
Rosie was about to nod, but her demeanor relaxed a bit. "No... no, I guess I haven't... "
"C'mon, then," Baibin smiled, taking the Atlantic's hand and tugging her towards the door. "If anyone knows, it'll be Jason."
A/N: YAAAYYYYYY ANOTHA CHAPTA! And it's so much sooner than last time!
And look! We has OCs coming in now! I hope Arthur was a little more IC here. Especially when America was mentioned, lol.
1)) Fridges are obviously the most magical things in existence. The Holy Grail, for example, wasn't a cup, but a fridge. A rather tacky looking one. With bad kindergarten macaroni art stapled to the front of it. With glue.
2)) Gordon Benett, to be exact. I'm not British, so I'm pulling all my info on word culture things from here. They've even got sound now!
septicscompanion . com / showletter . php ? letter = q
3)) Because honestly, if I were England. I would assume this too. Not that he's wallowing over it or anything. For the most part.
4)) BritishAccent!fail. I've already been told I've been could do it better, without the misspellings, but it just... it fits, for me, So please bear with it. I'm trying.
5)) This is sort of an off hand note that doesn't have anything to do with anything, but I just realized that my headcannon voice for Mrs. Weasley is the same as Mrs. Potts from Disney's Beauty and the Beast.
6)) Báirbe Crest. Goes by Báibín or Baibin which actually sound different. Báibín is short for Báirbre, which, according to some obscure naming site, means "foreign" or "strange". It's also the Irish equivalent of Barbara. Baibin's my personification of the Pacific Ocean. She's motherly but in a very sisterly way, and tends to fall asleep floating in the middle of the ocean. She can turn into a mermaid, obviously, and is very protective of her siblings should they be in trouble. I named her what I did because I liked the sound.
7)) Rosalyn Crest. Goes by Rosie. She's my friend's personification of the Atlantic Ocean. At first she was just an OC created to stalk Arthur and steal his union jack boxers, and was really meant for Rps so that she could get flirted with by her favorite character. She's evolved past that, however, and is now more of an actual character than a self-insert. She's very smiley and kind, but will kick ass if you make Arthur upset. They were at one point a couple, but they've kind of grown out of that, and are more really close friends. ALFRED DISLIKES HER BECAUSE HE'S JEALOUS and she does everything she can to enrage that jealousy. Seriously, they bicker like nobody's business. She has one child as far as we know, named Howell. As for my justification of pairing Arthur up with an OC, even if it was a past relationship, is that I'm trying to be realistic. Rosie has also been input so far into my headcannon I can't just ignore her. She's the Atlantic Ocean, for crying out loud, and if there's one thing Arthur loves, it's the sea. I just want to make it painfully clear to everyone that they will not be an actual, current pairing in this.
8)) Howell Kirkland. He's Rosie and Arthur's child from the pirate days. He's also the English Channel. He won't actually make an appearance, as far as I know, but I thought he should be explained since he was mentioned, and will probably be again. He grows a bit slower, being a body of water, so he's only about 7. Caring for him reminds him of the Revolutionary War and how bad a father he thinks he is. He's trying to do everything right with Howell. I dunno, the boy may show up. He gets along well with Sealand.
9)) Jason Ross. He's sort of like an elf, but not really. He'd been around since Arthur was little, so they're like best bros. I'm not actually sure what he is yet, but he's half human(his father was a Roman soldier) and is like Arthur's confident when he cant go to the other countries for something(because you just know his brother's aren't an option). He has a brother who probably won't appear in this story past a few mentions(he's for another crossover I plan on writing). His character was thought up just to make Alfred jealous, because he was a crush of Arthur's during his punk days. Nothing actually happened, but they're still good friends, so Alfred's a jealous little American. I plan on putting him with a cannon character, but it won't be Arthur. I want to see if anyone can guess who though. Oh yes, and he's a tattoo artist. :3
Sorry for such long notes. I just don't want to get complaints or anything because I know a lot of people don't like CannonCharaxOC. That's why there's only going to be one, and that's with Jason. Honestly though, I'd like to see if anyone can guess who that Cannonchara is.
Also, I've been getting a few comments on how lax Harry seems. I hope he seemed a bit more in character this time.
Anyways, thanks for reading! And review please! They make me type faster!