My fellow nations, 

Our next World Meeting will convene in Bern, Switzerland on Monday, August 11th 1991. We will be discussing a range of topics that need to be addressed, so being on time is a must. If you cannot attend for whatever reason, please send one of your country's other representatives in your place and let me know. 

I look forward to seeing all of you there, 

The Figurehead of Germany, Ludwig Beilschmidt

-0-

Amelia tried her best not to scream, really. 

She was underwater, and even if she was immortal, dying really, really sucked. Being revived could take minutes or days or even months depending on how she died, someone usually got life-long trauma from watching the process, and she was left to deal with both a literal and figurative headache afterward. Not to mention, drowning in particular just left her with bad memories from her childhood.

So yeah, you couldn't blame her when impulse won out. A yelp burst forth from her at the sight of...whatever was pulling her foot was. It was small, greenish, and armed with several sucker-covered tentacles, like some demented type of octopus. 

She couldn't be sure, however, because as soon as she opened her mouth, murky water flooded in and her senses were redirected and shot into overdrive with one motive in mind: Survive.

Amelia kicked as hard as she could, but the creature held on tight, dragging her further and further down, the bright surface of the water growing dimmer and dimmer. She tried to kick the little fucker off, just for a chance to get the hell out of dodge, but it simply wrapped around her other leg and bound them together at the ankle. As an adult nation, she would've had no problem breaking its tentacle fingers and moving on. But in these stupid clothes and weak kiddie body she still wasn't fully used to, Amelia's abilities were severely impaired. 

Fuck, she was gonna drown, wasn't she? 

She totally was, and she just hoped that whoever found her body was another nation. She did not feel ready to explain how she was able to come back to life to a human, and at least a nation would know to give her an aspirin or twenty when she came to. 

Still, that didn't mean she wasn't going to fight like hell. Her lungs burned from the lack of air and wanted nothing more than to breathe, but the water was only gonna make things harder. With a quick estimate, she guessed she had only one or two minutes tops before she blacked out from oxygen deprivation and let water in. 

Amelia needed to think; there had to be something she could use to her advantage. 

Then it hit her that she still had use of her arms. That could work. Screw her legs, they were a lost cause at this point. 

Making large motions, she pushed water downwards in hopes of propelling herself up. And for a moment, it worked. Then the little tentacle monster just dragged her back down. But there was a moment where she'd made progress. There was a chance she could still salvage this. 

She pushed again, and didn't hesitate this time. She continued the motion repeatedly, closing the gap between herself and the surface despite the tentacle monster's efforts. The surface was so close that her finger broke the water, and she was going to be able to breathe—

Something knocked the tentacle monster off and she burst forth from the water, gasping. She didn't care what exactly got rid of it, but she didn't care. Amelia needed to get out of the water now. 

She kicked as hard as she could, freestyling her way to the shore while taking as many opportunities as she reasonably could to breathe. 

-0-

As soon as her body touched the rocky shore of the lake, Amelia got to her feet and ran until she was a safe enough distance where if the tentacle monster came after her, she'd be able to out-run it. 

She just stared at the lake, breathing hard, coughing up the water she'd accidentally swallowed. Her golden hair hung around her face and stuck to her skin in darkened coils, and the stupid white dress she'd been forced to wear from her puritan years as a colony clung to her skin like a scared child. 

Like she did to Al the first time she drowned, actually. The irony wasn't lost on her, but that didn't mean she had to find it funny either. 

Amelia shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, still watching the water with a demented mix of fear and curiosity. Something that hell-bent on drowning her couldn't have just given up that easily.

Could it?  

"C-Come out and face me, you c-coward!" Her teeth chattered. She needed to change clothes soon. But not until she got to punch whatever was responsible for giving her that kind of panic attack. 

The water rippled, and she tensed, fingers curling into a fist. She'd deck this creature in the face, punt it into the water, then run back to Artie's room to change into new clothes. 

But the tentacle creature wasn't what emerged. It was...a seal. A grey seal. 

"No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean you. I meant-" Why was she talking to a seal? It couldn't understand her. "Never mind." 

The seal tilted its head and barked curiously, flopping closer to Amelia. It patted at her leg with a flipper, as if asking for her to pay attention to it. 

She rolled her eyes with a smile and sat on the grass, still facing the lake. Seals were usually friendly to her, especially when she went swimming in the bay with them in San Fran. Though she didn't know they were in Scotland as well. 

"S'okay, I'm fine. Just a little wet. Thank you for asking." 

The seal didn't look convinced. It bumped her hand with its head, barking again. Amelia chuckled in response, patting its head reassuringly. 

"I promise! Trust me, this isn't the first time this has happened, and it probably won't be the last. Doing dumb shit is kinda my thing." 

It barked once more, as if asking her to go on. Amelia obliged, because she may as well. She'd never really interacted with grey seals, they didn't usually live in her areas, but this one looked young. Not a baby, but not an adult either. It was probably just curious about humans, and Amelia wasn't going to ruin that for it. 

"Well, I'm gonna let you in on a bit of a secret. I've drowned before. I came back, because obviously, I'm here right now, but it wasn't fun. I thought it was gonna happen again today with that weird tentacle creature, but something knocked it off my feet and allowed me to retreat to land. So the fact I'm still breathing and conscious right now means I'm more than okay." 

The seal didn't bark, but laid its head in her lap comfortably. She ran her hand across its sleek fur, not wanting to leave just yet. Sure, the wet dress was unpleasant, but the summer's slightly warm air was finally getting to her and she wasn't sure if she'd ever met a seal this receptive to her emotions.

"Other than that though, it was a nice swim. I bet that you have a lot of fun in this lake, huh?" 

The seal bumped her hand with its snout after she'd stopped petting it. "Oh, I see how it is. You're a total attention hog, aren't you?" 

A bark in what Amelia interpreted to be amusement. She smirked and resumed petting the seal, muttering "Drama Queen" under her breath. 

They just sat there for a while in silence, Amelia slowly letting her clothes dry and the seal laying in her lap comfortably like a close friend. It was relaxing, but more importantly, it grounded her. 

It reminded Amelia that everything happening was real, and that she had to keep her head on straight for when the mission kicked into gear. She couldn't let childish emotions cloud her judgement. 

She looked down at the juvenile seal, who was completely relaxed in her lap, and smiled. "Thanks for this. I didn't know I needed it, but you helped me calm down. I appreciate it." 

It opened its eye and looked at her, barking lowly. It sounded like a question, like it was asking why she was even saying this. Or at least that's how Amelia chose to interpret it. 

"I need to go and change at some point, and my legs are starting to cramp, pal. I think it's time we say goodbye for now." 

The seal barked again, but it lifted its head off her lap. She patted its head gently, got to her feet with a grunt(her legs had almost completely fallen asleep), and stretched. She probably smelled awful at this point, but that was alright. Who was gonna complain, the paintings? 

Actually, maybe they would. She wasn't sure if they were capable of having a sense of smell. They certainly had hearing and sight, so it was possible. Amelia didn't like that thought.

Whatever, if they complained, it was a them problem. She was already planning on changing anyways. 

"Bye, Little Seal. I'll see you later, okay? This was nice." She offered a wave, because it felt strange not to. The seal seemed almost human with how it treated her, and so she'd do the same. 

It barked and clapped in response, and Amelia laughed. She definitely wasn't going to break this promise. Hell, Jett would probably love this as well. 

She eventually departed from the lake and made her way across the grass to the main entrance, because she didn't trust herself to find her way back to Artie's room through any other door. The whole trek back, not one person crossed her path. 

Amelia supposed she should've been grateful or whatever that no one saw her in such a state, but honestly, she could care less. She wondered what Vee, Mattie, and Jett were up to, if Artie was doing boring paperwork at some desk, and what Brady was doing back home. 

What time was it even back home? Doing some mental math, she supposed that Brady would probably still be asleep, and would only be eating breakfast in a few hours. Good, he was safe then. 

She pushed open the door to Arthur's room, shut it behind her with enough force that she was sure it wouldn't accidentally open, then dug through Mattie's packed clothes for some spares. No way in hell she was wearing any more of these dresses. 

She pulled out a blue collared shirt that she was pretty sure belonged to Peter at some point, some khaki shorts that would probably be short on her but would fit nonetheless, and a roll of socks. No other shoes, but she supposed it was better than nothing. Logically, she knew these clothes would fit, but they also looked so tiny in her hands that it was hilarious, like doll clothes. 

Amelia changed out of her dress and into the new tiny clothes, toweled dry her hair until only air could dry it further, and draped her dress halfway out of the opened window to air dry.  

She ran a comb through her curls to try and prevent future knots,  but they'd probably appear anyways. Vee would the probably offer to do her hair later, Amelia would fight her on it, and Matt would end up doing the honors while chiding both of them for fighting, probably. 

Amelia didn't really have the emotional energy to deal with the castle or anything outside of it that would be equally as weird and magical, so a nap was in order. Maybe her dreams would take her somewhere nice, and she could just forget everything bad from this morning. 

Yeah, that sounded nice. 

She nestled herself under the covers of her top bunk, closed her eyes, and drifted off into the world of unconsciousness for the sake of both wasting time and emotional stability. 

-0-

Gille Dubh was sure to return them to castle grounds long before the sun sunk below the horizon, but late enough in the afternoon that it could be considered dinner time. Canada's muscles burned and feet ached, but he felt satisfied as well. Gille's presence had been protective the entire time they traversed the forest floor, and the only magical creatures they stumbled upon were harmless or even friendly. 

Jett looked less satisfied, probably because he was an adrenaline junkie through and through, but as they bid farewell to the forest fae and climbed up the front steps of the castle, Canada could see him smiling. 

"Well, I reckon we change before dinner, eh? Don't want to get a lecture about not listening." Jett suggested. 

Canada looked down at himself. He wasn't particularly dirty, but he probably smelled of the forest and sweat. A quick clean up would do them a number of favors. "Oui, that sounds good." 

They changed courses for Arthur's living quarters, and Canada's understanding of the castle's layout both became stronger and weaker at the same time. The same artifacts and paintings were near the same turns and corridors, but the lengths and style of building changed from when he last walked through them. He was sure it was because of magic, but what was the point? To confuse students? 

Maybe he'd find out later, or maybe he'd have to actively ask. Magic wasn't intuitive to him, at least not yet. Its rules and trends didn't stick out for him to easily understand. 

Jett pushed open the wooden door to Arthur's room and immediately made a beeline for the en suite bathroom, mostly likely for a quick wipe down with some towels and water. Canada took the time to peel off his shirt and shoes, then dropped them in the pink and white polka dotted hamper Vee had set up earlier. 

The window was open, and a soft breeze blew through the room, smelling slightly of a lake, of possibly even marsh. Canada turned his gaze towards the opening, and saw Amelia's white puritan dress draped over the side. 

He touched the fabric, and it was slightly damp. The white was no longer the brilliant shade it once was, but now a more muted one with a slight greenish tinge. 

Oh, Amelia, what had you done now? 

"The dunny's open if you need it." Jett emerged from the bathroom, looking impressively more clean than before. They met eyes for a moment, before Canada's gaze returned to the dress. "...What're you looking at?"

He held up the dress for Jett to see. "Looks like Amelia went for a swim today."

Jett gave a laugh. "Well, she does live in California for most of the year. I'd expect her to want to go swimming in your summer as well." 

"That doesn't mean she should've gone swimming in her clothes." Canada groused. "But whatever, it's not like she'd listen to me anyways." 

"That's the spirit." Jett cheered, slapping Matt on the back. If he hadn't been dealing with Alfred for centuries, his vertebrae might have cracked on impact. "Now come on, hurry up. I'm so hungry I could eat a kanga." 

Canada obliged, and went to the bathroom to clean himself up. He discarded of the dirty towel the same way he had his clothes, and a new one magically appeared in its place. That was convenient. 

Now bare chested but clean, he knelt by his suitcase to take out a new set of clothes, only to find his neat style of packing had been disrupted. All the carefully folded clothes were now tangled in a mess of colors, fabrics, and cuts. 

The work of Amelia. This meant she was surely wearing his clothes currently, wherever she may be. 

He didn't even have the energy to be tired or fix the mess she made, instead sorting through the mess until he found a shirt and shorts that worked well together aesthetically. Jett sounded like he was doing the same from behind Canada, until the Aussie made a sound that was like a blend of a gasp and a laugh. 

"Mattie, look up there." Canada's gaze followed Jett's pointed finger to the top bunk of his bunk bed, where a tiny pale hand was flopped over the railing. 

Unless Vee had gotten confused which bed was hers, and Canada was willing to bet Kumakoji that she hadn't, that hand belonged to Amelia. 

The limpness of the appendage indicated that his geographical neighbor was asleep at the moment, but if they left her to continue her nap, Amelia's sleep schedule would be completely messed up again. 

He stood on the edge of his own mattress, stretched, and pulled on Amelia's limp hand. "Amy, wake up. You're not going to go back to sleep tonight if you carry on like this." 

"Go away, Francey-Pants." Amelia murmured, pulling her hand away and disappearing into the depths of her bed. Canada was slightly insulted by the fact she'd sleepily called him France when he'd been concentrating on making his colonial accent fade, but a sleep-addled Amelia couldn't really be faulted. 

Jett took it upon himself to escalate the situation by climbing up into Amelia's bed and tossing her over the edge. Instinctively, Amelia's eyes snapped open while midair, and she gave a shriek before landing squarely on Canada. 

Twice in one day, he'd been clobbered by a falling Amelia. This hadn't happened in centuries, and Canada couldn't say he missed it either.

"Dude, what the actual fuck?!" Amelia swore at Jett, picking herself off of Canada. "You could've just shook me like a normal human being."

The Aussie responded with a toothy grin. "Sheila, you and I both know I am neither normal nor human. Besides, it was more efficient. I thought your country liked that sorta thing."

She scowled, holding up the middle finger. "I was watching Jersey Boys on Broadway, you asshole. It was right in the middle of "Big Girls Don't Cry" and the you just woke me up." 

"Like you haven't seen the musical before. Or met the actual Frankie Valli." Jett scoffed. "Stop complaining and brush your hair. We're gonna have dinner soon." 

Amelia stuck out her tongue, but did as asked. After brushing her hair, it floated around her face in wispy tendrils, a bit too static to obey gravity yet. 

"There, you happy?" 

"Yep. Let's roll." Jett led them out of the room and to the Great Hall, where Arthur was talking to Vee. The figurehead looked tired, resting his head on his hand, and Vee looked excited, talking with almost as many gestures as an Italian. 

"—baking all these delicious things, and Ollie would be so proud! They even said we could have some for dessert tonight."

Canada slid into the same seat he occupied that morning and listened patiently to get a better grasp of where the conversation was at. 

"That sounds lovely." Arthur replied, not sounding particularly invested, at least not until he noticed them. Well, Jett and Amelia. Canada tended to slip by. "Ah, there they are. I was beginning to think you three wished to skip supper entirely." 

His tone and words were jarringly patient, not at all like it had been when Canada was actually a colony. Supper had been treated as a time for them to all reconvene, and was absolutely mandatory even if they didn't have enough food to even eat. As Matthew grew in age and stature, and became independent, he had supper with England less and less often, until the meetings were few and far between. 

Was it time that softened his insistence on being on time and present for the last meal of the day? Or was it that Canada was mentally a full-grown nation just like Arthur? 

Jett laughed it off, seemingly not as concerned by the change as Canada was. "Maybe we wouldn't have been so late if we didn't get lost six different times. Mattie and I must've walked down every hall in this castle before getting here." 

It was a lie, obviously, but a good one, also covering for if Arthur had been curious of where they had gone without making it too easy to press further. Canada decided playing along was the best option by far. 

"You never told us that the paintings could talk." He shifted his tone to slightly accusing, even if he didn't feel angry about learning it for himself. The frustration with being left in the dark was a different story, however. 

Vee tilted her head, looking confused. "You didn't know about that? There's four types of magical picture out there, as of now. Magical paintings, that are fully sentient and can speak, as well as move within their own and other paintings. Then there's magical photographs of living people, where if the persona photographed is a wizard, they can use the photo to speak to whoever has it if they want, but person photographed has to do something specific. Then there's photographs where they jut move, but can't say anything. It's like a short, repeating movie on paper. And lastly, there's statues, which are like the paintings, but they can fully move. Only problem is its very hard to make them, and even harder to transfer a soul to the statue." 

No, he did not know that. Canada's skin prickled with goosebumps as he imagined a statue of say, Arthur Currie, being made to try to emulate the man's skill and prowess in battle. Would it be cruel to the soul, plucking it from a chance at eternal rest to a prison of cold stone as a body? Or would he be grateful to have a chance at a longer life without having to die from the terrors of injury or disease? 

He spared a glance at Amelia, having a feeling that she was reacting even worse to this than he was. Canada knew the nation to be incredibly empathetic and staunchly against even believing in magic up until recent. And as he guessed, the blond was pale despite her sun-kissed skin, and the tiny hairs on her small arms stuck straight up like quills on a porcupine. 

"...Do you have anything like that?" Amelia eventually asked after a silence had fallen over the group. 

Arthur steepled his fingers with a tired sigh, but didn't say no. "Yes, I do. But the only pieces I own with sentience were all consented to be made by the original person they were based on. I don't have anything recent enough to be a photograph, although I have seen many witches and wizards adopt it into their media quite seamlessly." 

"It is nothing to worry about children, really." A grandmotherly looking woman assured them. Canada was sure he hadn't seen her at breakfast, meaning she must have skipped it or arrived today. "Many muggleborn and halfblood students adjust to Wizarding culture quickly after they understand how most of the things you would consider strange are normal for us." 

Jett nodded. "I know, it's just that we weren't told to expect any of this, just that it would involve magic. So we're learning a lot at once." 

"Not to mention everyone but Vee and Arthur are jet-lagged." Canada muttered. His internal clock was still off. 

Dumbledore clapped his hands, drawing attention away from the conversation to himself. "Worry not, your knowledge of the Wizarding world will only grow as the days go on. But now, we should set aside our worries and focus on the feast that lays before us, no?"

As the last words came from his mouth, the air shimmered, and dishes of varying foods appeared. Canada expected English foods, like black pudding and bangers and mushy peas, but was pleasantly surprised to find things closer to home as well, like poutine and even Beaver Tails. 

He tucked into the food after carefully choosing what to put on his plate, and then watched as a chocolate frog, Henry, if he remembered correctly, wiggled its way out of Jett's shorts pocket and onto the floor. But instead of hopping away or melting or something, the frog just contentedly sat there. They didn't say Australia had a knack for the weirdest creatures alive for no reason. 

While this was happening, he listened to Olivia fully recount the events of her day in chronological order, all starting with an aerial assault from Peeves the Poltergeist. 

"But then I met the Fat Friar, who was really nice, and he showed me to the kitchens. As I was saying before you all arrived, the house elves in the kitchen welcomed me and let me help them with baking tonight's desserts. And after we put everything in the ovens to cook, the Fat Friar showed me the Hufflepuff Common Room with a private tour!" Olivia chirped. "I also met the Grey Lady, though she didn't stay for long." 

He had no idea who the Grey Lady and Fat Friar were, but he assumed they were staff Canada had yet to meet. He had a feeling Vee wasn't saying everything, especially with how quickly she glossed over being attacked by a ghost, but he'd rather face whatever Gille Dubh warned them about than force information out of her. He'd learned at a very early age that Olivia doesn't like to feel cornered. 

Canada tore a piece of a Beaver Tail off and popped it into his mouth, listening to Jett recount a completely made up account for the day, saying that they spent most of it playing hide and seek. The Aussie was really leaning into the "I look like a child, and therefore act like one" idea, but it was working so far, so Canada didn't have any complaints. Besides, they all knew that if he wanted to hide, it could take days before someone found him. 

After paying attention to Jett's cover story so he could keep his facts aligned with Jett's, the focus of the conversation shifted to Amelia. Canada was especially interested in her story, especially with how she ended up sleeping with Matt's clothes on with a lake-water soaked dress hanging out the window. 

"Today, I decided to walk around outside for a while. I mean, you always complain about how its cloudy, rainy, and miserable over here, and I totally agree, but after living in LA for a while, it was a nice change of pace. So I was walking around for a while, just enjoying how mild your summer is, and then I saw the lake, and thought, 'Why don't I go for dip?'. So I went into the lake and swam around for a while."

So far, it was normal. But knowing Amelia, it was anything but. Canada held his breath and waited for the next part of the story. 

"Well, while I was swimming, this little like, octopus mermaid thingy grabbed my legs and tried to drown me." 

Ah, there it was. The chatter on the other side of the table between all the staff stopped as they too started to listen. 

"And so then I tried to kick it off, because, you know, drowning is generally something you wanna avoid, but this little guy was determined. Some time passed, and somewhere along the way I realized that I was probably going to die. That fighting had been useless."

Amelia's words were casual, but her voice quivered, and reasonably so. If Amelia had actually thought she was close to death, then she had been. Canada felt a pang of guilt for not being there to help her, but how could he have known? 

"But then something knocked it off of me. I dunno what exactly, because I didn't take any time to look, but it was something strong, that's for sure. I made it to shore, thanked my lucky stars that there wasn't too much water in my lungs, and then went back to our room to rest because I was exhausted. Then Mattie and Jett found me, and here we are." 

Canada reached over from under the table and gently squeezed her hand. It was still cold and clammy. "Are you alright, or should we take you somewhere where you can get help?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm fine now. I just...I don't think I'm going swimming there again until I figure out what tried to drown me and how to get rid of it." 

"Er, if I may offer some advice." Professor Toncinens started. "The library would most likely be the best place to start, since Hagrid hasn't returned from London yet. Though what you described sounded like it could be a Grindylow or even Mer." 

"Oh, really?" Amelia brightened. "Well, that's a good point to start with. Thanks." 

"You're welcome." 

Dinner resumed, and nothing interesting seemed to happen for Arthur today besides writing a letter to Alice and Ollie. Canada finished his meal, wiped his mouth, and patiently waited for his companions to be done. It would be rude to go to bed all on his own, and besides, he wanted to discuss things privately away from mortal ears. 

Thankfully, it didn't take long for the meal to end, and before he knew it, he was walking slowly behind Arthur to their sleeping quarters. He was sure he wouldn't have felt nearly this tired if he were completely normal, and blamed the lower stamina on this colony body. Just another drawback to add to the list. 

Arthur pushed open the door, wrinkled his nose and muttered something about how the room smelled, then disappeared into his own wing to the side that he'd created using complicated magic that broke the law of conservation of matter a hundred times over. But on the bright side, they were now alone. 

"Okay, first off, I see how y'all are lookin' at me like that." Amelia's Californian accent temporarily slipped into a not-quite-Texan drawl as she eyed all of them suspiciously. "I know you'd be concerned an' all, but I swear, I'm fine. It's not like drowning would be the death of me anyways." 

Vee leveled Amelia with an unamused glare. "That's not funny, Amelia Elizabeth. You know to not brush off deaths like that." 

Merde, the middle name was being brought out as Vee exercised the, "I am centuries older than you, Colony" voice and glare. She was pissed. 

Amelia just scowled back, not backing down. "Get over yourself, Olivia. You can't talk to me like that, and you haven't been able to for centuries. You're the same physical age as me, and we both know that if I was actually trying, I could beat you in a fight. So go shove your nose in someone else's beeswax. I'm fine, and I don't want to talk about it." 

"Are you literally stupid? I try to ask about your health and well-being, and you shut me out! I'm just trying to care for you, but you're too full of yourself to think anyone but Alfred could ever have good intentions." Vee snapped, "Is it a crime to care about a child you helped raise?"

"It's annoying as hell when said nation has been independent for over 200 years." Amelia sniped, rolling her eyes. "Whatever, this is stupid. I'm going to bed. Night, or whatever." 

Canada watched as she climbed up to her bunk and hid within its raised depths, purposefully. She needed time and privacy to lick her wounds and cope with the day's events. Knowing Amelia, she'd be fine tomorrow morning. 

 They all took the time to ready themselves for bed in silence , and only when Amelia's soft snores filled the air did they break this quiet, as the sound was their signal that talking could commence once again. 

"You two didn't actually spend all day in the castle, obviously." Olivia hissed, pulling out her hair ties and letting the strawberry blonde tresses fall down her back. She addressed Jett first, then Canada. "You went to the Forbidden Forest, and you went with him, either because you were dragged, worried, or both."

"Both," He agreed, not even bothering to deny it. "But nothing bad happened, actually. We met a forest fairy and he said that he'd protect us."

Jett nodded. "Yep. Said his name is Gille Dubh and took us for a tour of the forest. It's really beautiful." 

She raised an eyebrow, then turned to climb the ladder to get into her bunk. "Gille Dubh? You met a Scottish forest fairy that loves children and convinced him to spend the day with you two?"

"Well, yes, but actually no. See, he knew we were nations of some sort, but not that we're not actually this age physically. So I bet he assumed we were micros or some province or something." Jett whispered. 

"He definitely did." Canada agreed. "But its alright, because isn't our status as figureheads...complicated?"

Olivia poked her head over from the top and shook it. "Not really. You're still the figureheads, but the only ones who know it are us, Ally, Ollie, and Janie. If a plague were to hit your nation, you'd still get the symptoms the faster and the longest." 

"Good thing vaccines exist then, eh? Dealing with outbreaks are the worst." Canada muttered. He hated having to go through the process of a deadly illness when his people needed him. It made him feel useless and weak. 

"Totally." Jett and Olivia agreed without missing a beat. 

The conversation lapsed into silence while Jett and Canada got into their respective beds, and even if they wanted to continue, Canada's small body slipped into a deep sleep before he even got the chance to say good night. 

-0-

A week or so had passed since England had arrived at Hogwarts, and he was finding himself easily adjusting to the new lifestyle. Living with some of his former colonies(and Olivia) brought nostalgia, but they were so much less petulant than they had been when they were small that England found it nearly impossible to confuse the Matthew of the 18th century with the one of modern day. 

While they busied themselves exploring the castle and its grounds, and learning about the magical world from paintings, Olivia, the ghosts, and staff, he spent his time working on the coursework for the year. 

Worksheets that were designed to drill information into his student's heads through repetition, reading passages from primary and secondary sources that would give them insight into the time periods that were being discussed, and a careful selection of films and documentaries to show the day after exams as a reward for studying. The carrot and stick approach was classic, and for good reason. 

But currently, he was meeting with the groundskeeper of Hogwarts, Rubeus Hagrid, to discuss Harry Potter. Of course, he didn't explicitly say that, but he got to the subject quickly enough after starting the conversation with talking about how he suspected(Read: knew) that Jett was going into the Forbidden Forest on a semi-regular basis. 

Having literal centuries' worth of experience, England came to find he was skilled at reading people. And Hagrid could be trusted to not find Jett's adventures so alarming he'd tell all the staff about it. Likely, his loyalty laid with Dumbledore, and would only tell him of this non-sequitur if explicitly asked. Hence England's use of it. 

"Putting my nephew's antics aside for the moment, may I ask about Harry Potter? I've heard you were sent to visit him this week." England sipped Hagrid's homemade tea and relaxed into the giant chair situated in his hut. It was big enough to make Russia feel small, but very comfortable in a worn, well-loved way. The tea was serviceable, but nothing like his own handiwork. 

Hagrid chuckled a bit, and even if it was light, England could feel the vibration travel through his bones. "Aye, a'body's askin' bout 'arry Potter. Wonderful lil' boy, but 'is fam'ly was abs'lutely 'orrid. Can't wait ter get 'im outta there."

The West Country accent, one that he had scorned for centuries for being uncivil and uncouth, yet knew completely from the inside and out. Nowadays, most of his people weren't particularly for or against it, but it was a dead giveaway where you were born and raised. England fought to keep himself from matching the man, keeping his Western Londoner accent strong. 

"What exactly did you do when you went out to meet him? Obviously it wasn't to get his autograph." He kept the tone light and cheery, since it had no need to be anything but. The half-giant actually needed to feel at peace, in fact. 

Hagrid poured himself a fresh cup of tea and mixed the milk in gently with a spoon. "Ah, well, Professor Dumbledore ask'd me ter pick up somethin', then take the boy out fer some shoppin' in Diagon Alley. Should've seen how wide his eyes were, like moons." 

The something was obviously the Philosopher's Stone, which he had yet to make a trial for. But he hadn't expected the second bit about shopping at Diagon Alley. He'd only been a few times, when he was desperate for supplies, as the shopping district was notorious for being overpriced and having a monopoly on certain supplies. He much preferred the quieter, more private practices of Horrizante Alley.

...But if he were to have four children go through Hogwart's curriculum, where some of their required supplies were only sold in Diagon Alley, then he'd have to go sooner rather than later.  And he'd have to deal with Madam Malkin, which meant he'd probably need to bring along a few Advil to relieve the impending headache. 

"How thoughtful of you to spend a day with a child you barely know." England replied, but his mind was already elsewhere. They needed to get supplies before Diagon Alley got even more overpriced as the semester's start approached. 

The rest of the conversation that followed was just a basic recap on what Harry did with Hagrid, how cute the little 12 year old was, how mad his family made Hagrid, and what supplies they were able to buy with his inheritance money. From the boy's attraction to solid gold things like the cauldron that caught his eye, England could have almost sworn Hagrid was talking about a dragon rather than a child. 

Nonetheless, it was all nothing more than pleasantries. England kept his responses light and empty, and Hagrid seemed too enamored with Harry to give an impartial description. Once the teapot was dry and a serviceable amount of time had passed, England bid farewell to his coworker and made his way back to the castle from the grounds. 

The first thing on his mind the whole journey was not Harry Potter, or the course plan he needed to finish, or the sound of Peeves tormenting Professor Toncinens in the hall. It was the much needed trip to Diagon Alley. 

He sat at his desk within his room and began drawing up a basic shopping list with everything they needed to fetch and roughly estimating the cost of everything, including travel and lunch. Wizard money made little sense in comparison to modern currency, but England was well-versed in it and found converting its value to pounds and back to be rather simple. 

Of course, the sum was much too big for what he carried on himself right now, but if he remembered correctly, he had a vault at Gringotts that likely had enough to cover the costs. As far as he could tell, they never emptied the vaults unless the owner, or their family, formally signed the paperwork to do so, and therefore it was likely that nothing in his account had moved in centuries. 

Yes, yes, this would work. He'd have to see that overpriced hag Malkins for custom robes, but maybe if he just gave the children money they could handle it themselves while he took care of potion supplies or textbooks. 

There was a rapping at the window, and England turned to see an owl hovering at the window. Odd, since he didn't expect a response to his letter so soon, but perhaps it was something urgent. He stood and opened the window to let the owl in, and as soon as the letter was in his hand, it left. 

This was not a letter from Alice or Oliver, that he could tell immediately. Alice liked having stationary with her name on it, and Ollie insisted in scented paper even since that blasted frog Francis showed it to him. But then who would want to send England a letter by owl? 

He broke the wax seal and unrolled the paper to read. 

Arthur, do see to it that you finish your puzzle soon. We cannot go without complete fortification for much longer.

Albus

Short, sweet, and to the point, something he was quite fond of when it came to business-related content. He figured that preparing any more for Diagon Alley would be overkill, and that his puzzle did need to be made eventually like he promised. Not to mention the fact that he was being reminded by Dumbledore, which only encouraged this notion. 

With a sigh, he closed the window, pushed aside his shopping lists, and set to work with brainstorming the perfect riddle to protect the Philosopher's Stone. 

-0-

My Dearest Father, 

Please leave being subtle to Uncle Arthur. After reading your letter and comparing it to the morning news, I can't say it was very hard to decode your message, and even less so to feel disappointed that you felt like I couldn't figure out your work on my own. I can't say I'm proud of what you've done, but I know I can't change you and never will be able to. Just try not to make Auntie Alice mad with your hobbies, alright? 

To change subjects, I'd like to inform you that Hogwarts is everything I've dreamed of and more! I've befriended a ghost named the Fat Friar, explored the castle, and even got to use magic! I can't wait until the semester starts and I can learn all of this for real. It'll be so fun! 

I'll love you for now and forever, 

Vee

-0-

"Up! Everyone up!" 

Vee opened her eyes slowly, stretching and still holding onto the wisp of a dream she had just exited. Her bed was uncomfortably warm, but she didn't mind. She could sink into the wonder that is modern mattresses forever and ever. 

But sadly, her brother wasn't going to allow that. Arthur was standing in the area in between the two bunk beds, clapping his hands and yelling for them to wake. Vee let out a soft groan as she realized that Arthur wasn't going to stop, and she slowly moved out of her warm nets of blankets to the cold stone floor. 

"Yes, yes, I know that only Jett likes to wake up early. But We must get going if we want to catch the train." England shoved a bundle of clothing into Vee's arms, moving way too fast for her to process. Jett stood near the exit, already dressed, and looking incredibly excited. 

Matthew's head poked up from within his blankets, and he fumbled around for his glasses. "What's going on?"

"We're going out to buy magic stuff!" Jett informed them with a cheer. "But the train leaves really soon, so we need to go." 

Matthew's eyes widened, and he nearly fell out of bed, stumbling for a while before he got his footing. "Oh, I see. I'll get ready." He grabbed some clothes from his suitcase and disappeared into the bathroom.

England cleared his throat. "Jett, come with me for a moment so we can allow the girls to dress. Olivia, make sure Amelia wakes up. We leave the room in three minutes." Jett dutifully followed Arthur into his room, carrying the chocolate frog name Henry in his hands. 

Quickly, Olivia climbed up into Amelia's bed and tugged on her hair. "Amy, wake up. We need to go soon."

The American's eyes flew open, and she batted Olivia away with her hands. "Can you not? You could've just said it."

"Yes, but Arthur tried that already and it didn't work. Quick, get dressed. We're leaving in two minutes."

Olivia shoved some clothes at Amelia, then began to change herself. She was pretty sure these were actually Amelia's clothes, and that Amelia had hers, but that hardly mattered. She grabbed her hairbrush and some hair elastics to tie up her pigtails during the train ride, slipped on her ballet flats, and waited for Amelia to descend. 

The boisterous blonde came down only moments later, confirming her suspicion about the swapped clothes by wearing a dress that Olivia was quite fond of herself. Amelia scowled, but didn't immediately complain, so she probably didn't despise it. 

"I'm ready. Come on old man, let's blow this popsicle stand already."

Arthur emerged from his room with Jett in tow, and gave them a quick once-over. Olivia could tell she passed by the way it only took a glance before his mouth quirked upwards with a satisfied smirk, but his gaze lingered on Amelia for much longer. Eventually, he reached over and moved a lock of hair from one side of Amelia's part to the other. 

"There. Now you're ready. Matthew, it's safe to come out." 

Mattie left the bathroom, well-dressed for today's activities, holding Kumajiro in his arms. Arthur did a quick role call of everyone, including the bears and Henry the chocolate frog, and then led them out of the castle in a fast-paced walk. Olivia kept to Arthur's side, Amelia and Jett ran ahead, and Matthew trailed behind, barely able to see over Kumajiro's fuzzy head. 

"Where are we going to purchase everything?" She asked, curious. Arthur and Alice never said where they procured their magic supplies in the past. 

Arthur sighed with one of those sighs that said, "I really hate this" underneath. "Diagon Alley, in London. We need to catch the Hogwarts Express to King's Cross, then walk there and back. Its a full three day trip."

"Shouldn't there be a closer place to get supplies? I mean, making that trip sounds awfully inconvenient..."

He groaned, pinching his nose. "It is, but they have access to some required supplies we need for your school year that they don't sell anywhere else. It's overpriced, overcrowded, and overrated, but its the only option right now."

Olivia winced. It sounded like exactly what Arthur would complain about for weeks on end, and she knew he hated when he was forced to do something he didn't like. "At least you're contributing to the British Wizarding economy? That could be good for keeping your health up." 

"Bollocks. They don't have much of an economy to begin with, with how the Wizarding World hasn't figured out mass production and how to exploit it."

"Oh. But then why are we taking three days? This trip to Scotland is only nine hours long. We can go this evening when we arrive, and then return tomorrow. Or even tonight, if the train runs that late." She suggested.

He laughed, but it was mirthless. "Most of the shops close when the sun sets, and the train runs only once a day. Its an incredibly impractical business model, but no one has ever said that wizards and witches operate by logic."

She laughed politely to make him sound not so alone, though her mind wandered elsewhere. Why was the wizarding world like this? Surely, they had the means to surpass normal people if they tried. So why not? 

"Is something bothering you?" Arthur's warm hand rested on her shoulder comfortably. "Whenever you were confused, your lips pursed in a certain way, like right now." 

He used to say that, but centuries ago. Well, she supposed her younger body had yet to grow of it yet. "Sort of. This culture has so much power at their disposal, but they seem completely clueless at how to use it properly or weaponize it. Are they really that incompetent?"

"Ah. Well, you see, its the muggle-born and half-bloods that keep things like this, and have been keeping, for centuries. They know how easy it would be for wizards to take over if they tried, but for the sake of regular humanity, they constantly pass off muggles as a stupid, irrational group that are too bothersome to meddle with."

Olivia looked at Arthur for confirmation, to search his green eyes for any sense of a lie, but there was none. "So for the sake of everyone else, they keep both in the dark? That sounds like a lot of work."

"It's for the best. There have been conflicts in the past where they mixed, I'm sure you remember. None of them ended well." His tone became grave, and she could just remember him collapsing into their home a few centuries ago, skin charred and bones broken, attacked on his way to collect some more potion ingredients. 

She looked away , staring at the cobbled train station floor they had now reached. "I know, but it's just...so awful that they can't get along. They're all our people." 

"Better they ignore each other, rather than risk a civil war." Arthur said dryly. His knuckles were tight on the briefcase he held in his hand, and Vee was pretty sure her conversation was the cause. 

"Best to let sleeping dogs lie," Alice always said. Usually Vee brushed her sister off and did it anyways, but not this time. Arthur was probably already stressed enough as is trying to figure out he'd teach in this modern day and age. Besides, talking about civil wars never boded well for nations. 

"Yeah. Oh, did you hear that Kumajiro tried to fight Steve yesterday? It was actually pretty fun to watch, since neither had any murderous intent!" She fiddled with the hem of her borrowed shirt and tried for a playful smile. Lift the tension, even if the transition from the last topic was jarring. 

His hand relaxed a smidge. "No, I did not. Who won?"

"Steve, because Kumajiro was cocky and thought he would win, and ended up underestimating Steve. You know, like always." She said gayly. "It was still very entertaining to watch." 

"I'll bet. Although, you'll have to tell me more about it on the train, because I believe our time here has come to an end." 

As if she couldn't see or hear the train coming herself. Vee rolled her eyes with a smile, boarded the train, and mentally prepared herself for the headache of a shopping trip that was guaranteed to happen. 

-0-

Hello!!! Sorry about taking so long to update, and I'm sorry for splitting my plans for this chapter in two. Originally, I was gonna shove the Diagon Alley scene in here as well, but after realizing it'd take 9 hours by train to get from Hogwarts to King's Cross alone, I decided that reserving the next chapter for their antics would be best. However! We are quickly approaching the official start, and once the shopping trip is done, we'll finally get on with the real plot! Hooray! If you haven't gotten bored or frustrated with my ability to turn about two weeks into 50k+ words, then kudos to you, seriously.

Anywaysssss, please leave a comment if you enjoyed, consider joining my Hallowed Halls Discord server(https://discord.gg/HfxS4Ga79w) if you wanna chat or engage in ridiculous conversations about shenanigans the nations would get into, or leave a kudos if that's more your style! I look forward to seeing what you all feel about this particular chapter, and even if 3 years have passed and I'm no longer updating, chances are I'll still reply to your comment(I have cringy fanfics on Wattpad from 2018 I still reply to, after all)

Well, I guess this it for now.

Ciao!

Msperfectsheep