Okay, here's my first actual plot-like foray into the Hetalia fandom, and a HP crossover to boot! *rubs hands together nervously* SG-chan hopes the characters aren't too OOC; they might be considering how SG-chan likes to slip her various headcanons into her stories ^^; Okay, anywho, a warning that's probably unneeded as this is Hetalia: there will be yaoi/shounen-ai in this story as well as many innuendos, and sex that will take place off-screen but will be incorporated back into the story on my website that you can get to from my profile. Also, this takes place in sixth year, but don't expect me to stick to the book; IMHO the sixth and seventh books sucked so bad they could substitute for a vacuum cleaner, so only expect vague snippets of plot from the sixth book, like Horcruxes, etc.

If you would like to read the full summary for this story, go to my profile, where the full summary is posted. Now, the language key, cause what's Hetalia without all the languages, huh? Although emphasized words will be in bold.

Ancient English (England's spells, etc.): {insert text}

French: insert text

Greek: \insert text\

*15 years previous*

Arthur Kirkland was awakened from his slumber by an explosion which he was sure could be heard all the way across the Channel. The searing pain in his chest was nothing new - Voldemort had taken to attacking populated non-magical settlements, most of which were situated in or around London, his heart.

It took him a moment to realize that the explosion wasn't nearby, and that it wasn't a physical explosion, but one of magick - of power and energy being flung out in such proportions that it was impossible to control it. The signature of the magick was familiar, but he couldn't place it.

With a muttered non-magical curse, the anthromorphic representation of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland opened a green-tinged portal and stepped through to the source of the explosion.

*Present Day*

"Hello Arthur," Albus Dumbledore greeted the blonde man dressed in a military uniform that didn't look too much out of WWII. It probably was, the aged wizard surmised as Arthur greeted him with a slightly strained smile.

Ever since Voldemort's return had been acknowledged by the Ministry, the attacks led by the Dark Lord and his followers were becoming more and more public, leading to a lot of pain for the personified nation.

"I would say 'good morning', but I'm too busy dealing with the repercussions of last week's 'gas line leak'." His sarcastic tone turned bitter by the end.

"Yes, too many have died already."

Both men knew that the death toll would be monumental in the end, no matter how long the actual war lasted.

"So, I assume you didn't call me here for an update on the situation." Arthur seated himself without waiting for an invitation.

"Astute as always," Albus chuckled slightly. "I called you here to ask a favor - two favors, actually."

"Ah, after the defeat of Grindelwald, I think you can cash those in," the younger-looking man replied.

"Yes." Here the wizard took off his spectacles and rubbed them with a conjured cloth. An expectant silence spanned the two men in a moment before Albus replaced his spectacles. "Since Tom Riddle first became the Dark Lord Voldemort, even before, he was searching for a path to immortality. I have reason to believe he opted to make at least one Horcrux."

Arthur groaned as he leaned back in the chair. "Gwydion's follies," the blond murmured. "The fool."

"Yes. There is nothing to fear from the next great adventure," Albus imparted gravely to the other.

"No, I was talking about the possibility of having more than one Riddle running around," Arthur disagreed. Dumbledore paled visibly as he'd actually never thought of that possibility. "Of course, that might make things easier for us; after all, if each Riddle wants to be the most powerful, then they could all just kill each other off."

Albus noted that the nation seemed to have a rather sadistic gleam in his eyes as he thought aloud. "You really hate him."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at what he thought was quite obvious. "Yes, well, of course I do. I know you grieve for each person lost for the Greater Good, Albus, but you have not felt all 109,697 people, magical and otherwise, lost in this war die."

The two could feel the ambient magick in the room become a swirling entity as Hogwarts felt the nation's anger and sadness and attempted to comfort him. "{Thank you}," the blond murmured to the sentient castle. No matter how many times he came here, it never stopped amazing him how far the castle he had seen built from the foundations up had come. Arthur directed his attention back towards the man who had called him only to find Dumbledore gazing at him over the tops of his spectacles - looking somewhat amused of all things.

"As I was going to say," Albus continued, "I would like for you to accompany me on locating Tom's horcruxes."

The predatory gleam and dangerous smirk spoke all for itself. "A treasure hunt, eh?" Arthur chuckled nastily, slightly resisting the urge to rub his hands together. "It'll be like my delinquent days all over again."

Albus had just the barest feeling that perhaps he'd unleashed a terror on the world and perhaps his second question should be postponed, however-

"So what was the other favor?" England inquired, pirate smirk still in place.

"Well," the aged wizard began rather slowly, "Professor Binns has seen fit to pass on to the afterlife-"

"Finally," Arthur interrupted. "Oswald's been around since the late 1600s, it's about time he moved on."

"And I was wondering if you'd like to take his place, at least for this year." Dumbledore went on as though he'd never been interrupted.

The nation's expression was one of surprise. Of all the things the wizard could've asked, that'd been the last thing he'd expected. Asking him to fill in the DADA position would have been more predictable, but then again, Arthur's magick wasn't exactly something humans were capable of. And after all, who better to teach history than one who'd actually been there?

As a plan already formed in his mind on how to teach the young and impressionable students what real history was, Arthur spoke slowly. "If I do accept this position, I would be able to teach what I wanted, correct? No Ministry interference." Without waiting for an answer, the blond continued aloud his train of thought. "But it would only be first through fifth years, along with those who passed the History OWLs, which I'm assuming wouldn't be many."

Dumbledore waited, almost nervously, for England to make his decision.

"I think it's about time I did my civic duty," the nation concluded, and stuck his hand out for Dumbledore to shake. "You have yourself a History professor, Albus."

"Oh Angleterre!" Francis Bonnefois called as he opened the library door.

"What the hell do you want frog?" Arthur snapped.

"Well, it looks like you are moving," the Frenchman observed as his age-old rival levitated a stack of books off a high shelf.

"I'm taking a post as a History of Magic professor if you must know," the Englishman replied, hoping that would get him off his back.

"A fitting position for someone as stuffy as yourself," Francis nodded to himself. He dodged a book that was thrown his way with little ease. "Mon petit lapin, you wound me!" he cried out in fake anguish.

"Sod off, we both know you could care less, the shorter-haired man scoffed.

Francis pouted. "So unfair you are to moi," he complained.

"Don't you have someone else to bother besides me?" Arthur inquired exasperatedly.

"Actually, I came to inform you that your French-mocking lunatic-"

"His name is actually Tom Riddle," Arthur interrupted as he sealed the last of the books inside his trunk. "Voldemort is an anagram."

"Yes, like I said, French-mocking," Francis repeated. "Really, such a pretentious name."

"He wants to be immortal."

"Well, he obviously doesn't know how boring it gets after awhile," Francis scoffed.

Arthur snickered. "You normally don't involve yourself in these things."

"Yes, well it certainly doesn't help that he is bothering some of my more favored children."

This was brand new information to the Englishman. "Really?"

The longer-haired man nodded, a dark scowl gracing his normally easy-going features. "That lunatic has been trying to recruit some of the more influential Veela clans in my country."

"Great," Arthur groaned, falling back into an easy chair. "I've half a mind to hunt him down and put him through a Spanish-style Inquisition."

"Why not?" Francis shrugged as he leant over the back of the chair. "You're tense, not to mention sexually frustrated - a torture session will do you some good!"

"I-I am not sexually frustrated!" Arthur spluttered, his face turning red.

"Yes, yes you are," Francis chided, poking him in the shoulder. "It is quite depressing to see you dancing around Amerique like a blushing teenager."

"I-you-we-we are not like that!" By now Arthur's face was bright red in equal parts embarrassment and anger.

"Of course you aren't," Francis soothed, patting Arthur on the head, for which he received a head butt that, due to the chair's backing, didn't quite reach him. "Why don't you simply hunt him down?" Francis didn't want the Englishman to take any more pages of physical violence out of Lovino's handbook of tsundereness and figured that distraction was the best method. Take the anger directed toward France, and move it elsewhere. "That is what happened to our friend Jack, non?"

"Yes, but that was simple," Arthur sighed as he sank into the chair, almost pouting. It seemed the distraction had worked - for now at least. "Jack the Ripper didn't have some of the most protective magicks of the last few centuries at his disposal, along with a cult of followers for use as meat shields."

"Come now, you used to brag back in your 'delinquent' days that there were more than ten ways to skin a cat, so to say, non? Use some of that pirate logic!" Francis rapped his knuckles against Arthur's forehead, smirking at the flabbergasted expression on his face. "You were not the only one with pirates, Angleterre; slipping into that mindset is not so terribly difficult."

"Bothersome frog," the Englishman snorted, lips twitching upwards slightly.

"Admit it. You love me."

"I tolerate you; there's a difference."

"A small one."

"I'll be casting extremely vicious wards to keep out unwanted visitors," Arthur warned as he rose from the chair.

"Moi? Unwanted? How cruel you are!" Francis wailed. His mood a complete 180 as a lecherous grin spread across his face. "I may be unwanted, but what of mon fils Mathieu, or his brother, hmm? You would be quite amenable to having America the Beautiful in your bedchambers, non?"


The Frenchman merely laughed as he ducked another book thrown at him.

French key:

Angleterre: England

Mon petit lapin: My little rabbit

Amerique: America

Mon fils: my child

Excuse the probably crappy French; if it's any consolation, I didn't use Google Translator! ^^ The tenor in our quartet at school takes French, and I got his help on this. It's his fourth year taking it, so he probably knows what he's doing... ^^;

I love France, I really do. Seriously, he's one of my favorite characters, next to everybody else of course xD One of the downsides to watching HetaOni, RomaHeta, HetaQuest, and all those other RPGs is that now I have no favorite characters - I love everybody too much TT_TT But seriously, France is the best pervert ever x3 Plus my BPF (Best Pervy Friend) has hair exactly like his, only darker. He knows who he is...

Don't forget to review please!