I do not own Harry Potter, as the series belongs to the lovely J. K. Rowling, nor do I own Hetalia (Mr. Himuruya). I do not claim ownership of either. This is purely for enjoyment and not for profit.

The brilliant moon shone down on the streets of London. Harry Potter was in his aunt's and uncle's home, and being bitten by Aunt Marge's ways of making him better. It was this day that Marge had chosen to drink a plethora of wine and Harry to inflate her. After the incident he made a run for it and grabbed his bags. He was only about to begin his third year at Hogwarts and already he feared expulsion. As you most likely know, he would not be expelled or even suspended. He hopped on board the bus that so wildly flew in and arrived at Diagon Alley.

England had decided to take a curt holiday and visit Diagon Alley the next morning. He was very elated to finally be able to see the wizarding world yet again, ever since the rise of the Dark Lord, he had been instructed to stay clear. Now, with Harry growing up and Sirius Black on the use, England decided to disobey both his Queen and Fudge's orders and slip away. Diagon Alley was bustling as always, and England felt right at home.

He recalled playing Quidditch not so long ago and peered at the new Fire Bolt. That is where Harry met the strange man for the first time. The first thing Harry noticed, aside from the large brows, was his eyes. Harry stared at those jade eyes, those eyes that were as deep as a well through the earth, they had seen too much. Harry's own wonderful eyes dulled in comparison with this man's.

"Hello, Harry," England had been anticipating the moment he would meet the Potter. When he spotted the bushy mop of charcoal-colored hair, he simply had to take a closer look. His hands behind his back in a most polite manor, he walked over. Harry was startled and slapped his bangs down to hide the scar.

"Good day, sir" Harry turned and made contact with those eyes. He felt suddenly uncomfortable, as if a very old professor was calculating his moves. Standing straighter and putting on a smile he turned to talk—as it is most impolite to talk to someone when your back is turned to them.

"Good day indeed," England grinned, "What a lovely piece of work that is," he nodded to the firebolt. Harry gave it a long and admiring look, wanting to have it so badly that his heart quivered. If you've ever wanted something so bad, yet you couldn't have it, then you would know this feeling.

"Yes, it is very lovely," England gave a chuckle. It was a strange chuckle; it was quiet yet shook the very earth. Not a rumble or an earthquake, but a swaying chuckle that brought a smile to everyone nearby. Harry was certain now that this man had magical properties beyond even Dumbledore's comprehension. Oh, no, he dismissed the thought violently. Dumbledore was most defiantly far older than this man. Or perhaps he was immortal!

Harry's thoughts were interrupted when he took note that the man was speaking again.

"You're in your third year at Hogwarts, I imagine?" England asked, still a curious smile playing on his lips.

"Yes, sir,"

"Are you excited?"

"Most excited indeed,"

"Good, good," England nodded and looked away. He grew very distant, his eyes remembering something that looked neither good nor bad, but solemn in his memory. After what seemed like a decade, but really was only several moments, he turned back and gave another chuckle. "I must be going, now. But you will see me around, mark my words,"

Harry just barely managed to ask, "will you be teaching at Hogwarts?"

England paused. "No, no, I don't teach anymore. My purpose will be clear very soon," with a quick good-bye he left. Harry was left with many questions.

The next day, when he caught up with Ron and Hermione, he spilled the whole meeting with that strange man, whom he didn't even ask for a name. "How'd he know your name?" Ron asked.

Hermione shook her head, "He's Harry, of course. I'm sure a wizard like that knows Harry. By the looks of it, it seems he might very well know Dumbledore,"

Harry nodding, recalling his thoughts from earlier, and wondering if that really was true. "He said we'll see him around Hogwarts, but I'm not even sure why, he won't be teaching or anything… There he is!" Harry added in a hushed, but excited tone. He pointed to England, who was conversing with Mr. Weasley. The trio exchanged a look. Harry crept up closer and saw that Mrs. Weasley was there as well. He hid behind the building and listened intently.

"Yes, yes, Mr. Kirkland, we have arranged for cars," Mr. Weasley said, nodding. This Mr. Kirkland nodded, and his eyes flickered over to Harry's hiding spot. Harry's heart beat faster, for fear that he was seen, and hid deeper, just enough so he could still hear them talk.

"Do tell me what you'll be doing at Hogwarts, sir," Mrs. Weasley asked, just as curious as Harry felt.

"First off, I would love to see some old friends. It's been ages since I've seen Nearly Headless Nick, but I assume he's less alive than when I had seen him… I'm also set to patrol, but it's mostly for my own personal benefits," Kirkland replied, with a sigh. His eyes went over to Harry once again.

Hermione grabbed his shirt and pulled Harry away. When they were well from earshot (or they thought) from England, Hermione asked what Harry had heard. Harry told them getting a small nod from Hermione and a raised eyebrow from Ron.

Just a teensy experiment. Should I continue?