Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or Harry Potter. (or James Bond)

AN at bottom

Paris, France 1984

Paris, also known as the City of Lights, the heart of the French nation and one of Europe's most progressive and beautiful nations. The cobbled streets were sprawling and centuries old buildings filled the city skyline. One building however, around 3 stories tall and sitting in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower was not nearly so old in appearance. Rather, by it's build it seemed as if it wouldn't be deemed out of place in Wall Street, New York. With automatic doors, tasteful Roman style, immaculately polished tinted windows, and a posse of suits who looked like they came straight out of a James Bond film, the building was professional in every sense of the word.

At least, that's what one would think upon first looking at the building. If one were a more permanent resident of the city, they wouldn't have been surprised when a wooden chair came rocketing out the top floor window only to shatter into splinters upon impact with the street. It was a credit to both the citizenry and the agents outside the building that only a few people started and the remains of the piece of furniture were swept up and disposed of in under a minute. One young boy, who had never thought to witness a chair being thrown out a window for any reason, hesitantly tugged at his mother's skirt in askance. "Maman, what was that?" The boy's mother stopped walking and turned her head to look where her son was pointing. After a moment, a look of exasperation came over her features before she plastered a stern look on her face and replied. "Politics, mon fils, politics". As the child was dragged away from the noisy building he wondered, "what's polly ticks?".

...

Inside said building, instead of a bunch of old men in suits using passive aggression and none-too subtle threats to advance their own agendas, there was a large gathering of young adults wearing everything from simple slacks and shirt to medieval armor. Also, rather than just a gathering of French politicians, these people came from what seemed to be a variety of backgrounds. And if one were knowledgeable about such things, they would know that not a single one of them came from the same place in the world. However, instead of a haven of cooperation and progress, there was a battlefield. The scene on the top floor of France's "U.N." building could be likened to two things: a battle straight out of the middle ages, or a bar brawl. Logical arguments could be made for both situations and one would still be partially right. It was in this battle, upon the long table that the nation of Hungary deflected a sword strike to the chest before responding with an overhead swing that blurred from the speed of the swing and caused a shockwave as it was barely parried by her opponent. Not even taking a moment to breathe, she lifted her leg and delivered a kick that would have crushed an engine block like a tin can to her foe's abdomen, the sound of flesh meeting flesh drowned out by the sounds of battle around them. Luckily for the sword wielding country, he was in fact tougher than an engine block and so the kick only knocked the breathe out of him rather than destroy all of his internal organs.

Almost no one alive would know for certain that it was indeed possible for an entire country to stand inside of a building while at the same time doing battle with another. It was scientifically unsound, there was no proof that an anthropomorphic personification of a nation could exist, or even have a sex, and most didn't even consider the possibility with the exception of a few conspiracy theorists.

Judging by the grin on said nation's face, he would have charged straight back into the fight had a chair not slammed into the side of his head with all the force and speed of an 18-wheeler, bowling him over and flying out the window a moment later . Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, Hungary simply lifted a booted foot into the air before smashing it down fast enough it would have broken the sound barrier if not for the short distance, cracking the table in half and sending more than two dozen nations staggering as her once fierce enemy was given a concussion as his skull was nearly bashed in. Leaping from the table gracefully, the Hungarian warrior roared a battlecry at a certain vampiric looking nation, crossing the length of the room with a single leap before swinging down with all the force centuries of hate could muster as he barely turned in time to block her strike. In her mind, Hungary grinned toothily, she might find Prussia to be a pest, but he was always useful for creating chaos and giving her chances to kick all her old and new enemies asses without being singled out, not that any of the others would be caught complaining either if the battle between Turkey and Greece off to her left was any indication.

On the other side of the room, just in front of the double doorway one blond man stands, blank faced at the spectacle of carnage surrounding him, calmly taking in the multiple beaten bodies, clashing steel, and shouted insults with a poker face carved from granite. The only sign that something is bothering him being his subtly tensed muscles and the telltale signs of a clenched jaw. Seconds later, a young Italian man appears in front of him so fast he as well have teleported "Germany, Germany! help me please!" He stops momentarily to hide from a group of nations who thought he was his brother, who had also been framed for dumping a basket of tomatoes on their heads( it had been Spain). He emerges soon after despite his protector's body beginning to twitch "Ve-, Germany, did you bring that pasta I forgot? Did you bring Italycat, Oh, and did you remember to type up my presentation last night, and iron your uniform this morning. Did you schedule training for after the weekend yet? Did you like our last session? I didn't, you were scary and then made me run five miles, but that's okay-Ve, cause now maybe I'll be able to fight now, or at least run away faster while I surrender". Germany had developed a distinguished tick mark on his forehead, his skin was gradually turning more pink as Italy rambled on. It was as a Viking axe flew by him and buried itself in the door beside him, frightening Italy and causing him to cower behind Germany while waving a white flag that wasn't on him beforehand and was too large to have been in his pocket that he finally exploded.

"Was zum Teufel ist hier los?!"

It was around three P.M. and the World Meeting had finally ended a half-hour ago. Germany's blow up had been practically volcanic in scale. Hungary herself had easily managed to pin the blame on his brother while sitting immaculately in her seat, and America, England, Spain, Turkey, and Russia were quick to back her up and throw Prussia under the proverbial bus despite them all being some of the worst instigators after him. Though besides Russia, none of them were very willing to go against her as she casually cleaned the blood off of her frying pan. Germany had fumed angrily and looked upon all of them with suspicion, but one look at the silly dazed grin on his brother's unconscious face was enough to placate him as he bodily hauled the albino out of the room and tied him up in a broom closet. He figured that he could finish the meeting and pick him up after dinner or something. France had gone out of his way to buy out one of his most expensive restaurants for all the nations to eat at, a sort of social get together rather than a business one(though with the way meetings went, was there really much of a difference?)

Since there were still four hours until the dinner reservation, Hungary figured she had a little time for sightseeing, or rather a walk, since she had actually been to Paris before, dozens of times in fact and many times before most of the monuments there had been built. Still, the city gave off a peaceful feeling that had been so absent for much of the last millennia, and she took any opportunity to get a bit of that peace where she could. With that thought in mind, the nation of Hungary set off down the road, eyes half closed and senses open.

...

...

...

Vernon Dursley was on cloud nine. The drilling company he worked for, Grunnings, had recently gotten a fantastic deal to establish a site in France in exchange for a portion of the profits and Vernon was being sent over to Paris to finalize the deal. It was made even sweeter that he was allowed to bring his family along as a sort of 'paid vacation'. But what really took the cake for him was currently sitting a few seats to his left on the train. His Freakish niece had been thrust upon them uncaringly a few years ago and his families perfectly normal life was thrown out of whack. He knew from what Petunia had told him that she had inherited her unnaturalness from her crazed parents and it was already showing. Well after the last deal he made was ruined by the Freak when his skin turned grey, he wasn't going to take any chances that the brat wouldn't ruin him, freak terrorists be damned, besides, if they were so angry at the girl, they could just track her down themselves, no sir he wouldn't be caught dead associating with that waste of space and no one could accuse him otherwise after today.

The grin that infected the large man's face was enough to disturb several of the train's passenger's.

Walking off of the train and onto the streets of Paris behind her relatives, was a child who could have passed for a two year old, though she was actually four. The child was dressed only in a ratty sweater that would pass for a dress on a child of her size if it were not disgustingly filthy and very obviously just an oversized piece of clothing. Coupled with a pair of round glasses that were cracked in one lens and a shredded pair of sandals, the young brunette was the very image of orphaned street-rat. She had no idea why her auntie and uncle had decided to take her with them on "vacation" whatever that was, but it was a decidedly improved situation to her cramped cupboard under the stairs. It didn't matter that auntie had told her explicitly that there would be no 'freakishness' while they were gone, they were taking her somewhere new. Though she didn't know how not to do "freakish" things, since her name was Freak, how was she supposed to stop doing herself-ish things? But since she hadn't been hit since the trip began, she figured that she was doing pretty well so far in that department. She just hoped cousin Dudley didn't fart on her while she was sitting, the last time had made her eyes water and from the slap auntie had given her, that was freakish behavior too. Luckily he hadn't, and they were currently walking down the streets of a place called "Paris", she had no idea where it was(or even where Britain was for that matter, since she had never had it pointed out to her on a map), but it was beautiful, and she couldn't stop staring even as she trailed obediently behind her auntie as she was assaulted by a myriad of colours and sounds that all blended together in such a pretty way that the young girl was sure she had never seen such a wonderful vision in her short existence.

...

She was lost.

It wasnt't her fault! She had only been distracted for a moment by the sight of a tanned man chasing a blond man with a battle axe before her relatives had disappeared into the crowded streets and she lost them. It had already been ten minutes and she was feeling like she might panic; If she didn't show up soon, uncle Vernon would bring out the belt, and probably send her to bed without food for the day too. Suddenly all the bright colours which seemed so vivid and friendly before became overwhelming, and took on a sinister gleam. It was all so very suffocating that she couldn't help a few tears spilling out, which she quickly wiped away with the sleeve of her sweater/dress. Composing herself after a minute of quiet whimpering, she figured she should just go back the way she came and wait for her uncle to find her there. After all, maybe she wouldn't be punished for being freakish if she just explained that she hadn't done anything, just gotten lost.

...

It had been a while and she was pretty sure she had only gotten more lost since she had started walking. Currently, she was walking down a smaller, somewhat less populated roadway, the place looked nice enough just like the rest of the city, but she was getting nervous. There was a distinctly unfriendly feeling all around her and it made her want to cuddle up into a ball and hide in her cupboard. She halts her darkening thoughts as her legs are too tired at this point to keep walking, huffing slightly, the small girl plops down tiredly at the base of an old building. Few passersby give her any sort of notice, just assuming her to be another street rat and too busy themselves to bother overmuch. She didn't know how long she lay there, but it was out of nowhere that a large gloved hand grabbed her around the waist, hauling her bodily into the alleyway. The young Freak just barely has time to give a scream that sounds a bit too much like a squeak before her mouth is covered by her assailant's other hand. "Tais-toi, enfant" Panicking at the dangerous undertone of the man's voice, regardless of the fact that his words made no sense to her, she wails into his hand while kicking and screaming in his arms, she had heard that tone before from uncle Vernon and she just knew whatever this man could do would be much worse than anything her uncle had thus far done to her.

Cursing to himself for wasting time, the thug quickly backed into the alley and ran to a worn looking steel door, awkwardly pulling a key out of his pocket, thus allowing the small girl in his arms a moment to let out a terrified screech. Cursing even more vehemently in French, the man pulls open the door quickly before slamming it behind him, the girl's sobbing quickly muffled.

...

It had only been an hour into her walk that Hungary had heard the scream. It was a sound that many nations were all too familiar with, or at least those who had lived long enough to become accustomed to the sound of innocents dying. She was walking down a somewhat less crowded street, the tall yet old buildings and the cobbled road combined to give the place a very old world feel that the central European nation could appreciate. Though she would have preferred her green dress to her military uniform that she wore now, it was still peaceful. Unfortunately, the illusion of niceness was shattered when the screams of a small girl momentarily assaulted her ears. Hungary's eyes shot open, and for a moment she listened, not completely convinced she hadn't hallucinated the sound. It wouldn't have been a surprise, for beings such as her, who's very nature was to war and fight amongst themselves, spouts of lunacy were common after centuries of bloodshed, and each nation had their own way of coping with the darkness that they had witnessed in their lives. But her suspicions were allayed a moment later as another scream sounded, barely a hundred meters in front of her, likely coming from an alley.

For a moment, the nation hesitated. Sure this was an innocent child, but she had seen thousands of children cut down early in the past, watched her own men kill children, had heard the sounds of violent crime in the background whenever she visited a large city. Was one more really something to get worked up over? It was likely the child was one of France's anyway, and it wasn't her responsibility to go playing rescuer to every foreign child she came across. And yet, before she had a chance to really contemplate the idea further, she remembered the looks in the eyes of her own land's children in '56' as the soviets gunned them down. No, she couldn't live with herself if she allowed herself to walk away as a child's fate was tragically cut short again, not even for one of France's. Uncaring of the possible watchers, she runs the hundred meters to the alley where she heard the scream faster than any human ever could. Racing down the alley, under balconies and roof tiles she see's only a single steel door with only a single unlit bulb above it. Testing the handle proved that the door had been locked behind whoever had taken the child. Giving it a tap, she could tell that it was two inches thick solid steel, no problem at all. Taking one step back, Hungary smirked slightly as she lifted her left leg and kicked out with enough force to make Atlas jealous. The results of her godly strength were evident as the steel door crumpled like tissue paper taking a significant portion of the wall around with it. Reaching down with her right hand, she pulled a gleaming longsword out of a sheath that hadn't been there before, while she held her left arm to her chest where a shining kite shield appeared as though it had been there the whole time. Both were shining so brightly it was as if they had a light of their own as they shimmered with an ethereal light that gave them an unworldly feel to most observers. She decided to forego armor, not wanting to make it too easy as she descended. Her entrance had already alerted those present and likely most of those living above as well, judging from the panicked yells of many men and women down the tunnel beneath the building. After a minute's walking without running into anyone, Hungary finally emerged into what seemed like a dining room sized antechamber, with a small wooden table and chairs sitting around it and another door behind it. There were already three men waiting for her with guns in hand, two with nine-millimeters and one with a revolver. They of course didn't hesitate in firing on her, unfortunately for them however, Hungary's shield was made of tougher stuff than brass and her inhuman speed allowed her to deflect all of the shots easily, though the ringing on the metal wasn't exactly pleasant. Grinning nastily, she stepped faster than the eye could see and before any of the three could react, one of them had his head bisected by her blade and the one with the revolver exploded as his upper torso was bashed with all the strength the nation had, leaving his lower body to collapse, spine sticking out as blood erupted like a fountain, drenching Hungary and her remaining opponent, who had frozen in fear after watching his comrades felled so easily and bloodily. Teeth stained red, the immortal woman just twirled her blade lazily as she sauntered over to the last man who shakily pointed his pistol at her, she just chuckled darkly as her smirk widened into a bloodthirsty grin. These lowlifes were nothing to her, but it had been too long since she had a good, real fight and they would have to do...

...

Young Freak was terrified, in less than a minute she had been kidnapped by a strange man and brought into some dark basement which was filled with intimidating thug type men and many sad looking girls and boys who only spared the scared toddler a quick look of pity before returning to their tasks. She had kept screaming into her captors hand, but that was stopped quickly when the man got fed-up with her resistance and punched her in the side of the head. Pain exploded throughout her cranium, and she could barely think, let alone do anything more than moan pathetically as she was shoved into a rough bag which was then tied shut. She wanted to cry out, to beg for her mommy and daddy to come and save her from these cruel men, but she knew they weren't coming, they were dead from the car crash and probably didn't even care that she would be hurt by these meanies who did nothing but hurt her even more callously than the Dursleys. So she cried, whimpered and sobbed as despair gripped her soul. The darkness around her and the eerie silence behind the door of the room she'd been thrown into along with the rough material of the bag digging into her skin was enough to bring the girl into a near shutdown as fear overwhelmed her. She would never see her family, would never grow up and have one of her own, she would never get to go to school or make friends, she wouldn't be able to go see fantastic places all 'round the world or get a pet cat. She-her thoughts were interrupted sharply by a resounding boom as the sound of something exploding up above ground caught her attention. Freezing where she lay as she dared not move a muscle, even as her head throbbed with pain she concentrated. A full minute later and a loud series of bangs rang out, followed moments later by a man's horrified scream which cut off sharply a second later. Paling, the young girl was only able to contain screams of fear because she would certainly draw the attention of whatever monster was surely tearing apart those men outside. And while she distinctly did not like the man who had grabbed her and hurt her, she was more terrified of whatever could make a man scream like that. She didn't have to wait long to figure it out however, as she could hear another loud crack, as though a bolt of lightning had struck underground, which was followed by a cacophony of sound. Largely it was a large series of bangs and sounds of metal colliding mixed with screams. Most of these were of fear, but more and more of them became ones of unspeakable agony with each sound of crunching bone and exploding organs. Freak couldn't help it anymore, she turned over and emptied her stomach regardless of the fact that she was in a bag and it got her filthy. Whatever monster was out there she was glad she was hidden in here, because whatever it was must be truly horrific to incite such primal fear in grown men.

She didn't get much time to contemplate however as moments later the door behind her was wrenched open and she was hauled up and held in the arms of the same man who had grabbed her the first time as the bag was ripped away and she was allowed to see scene around her. Looking around, in the corner of the room, the older kids that she had seen a few minutes ago were huddled in a corner, filthy and crying and screaming in equal measure. She moved on and what she saw had her dry heaving despite the man's threatening grip on her throat and the piece of metal pressed to the side of her head. Bodies, some whole yet having limbs and body parts rearranged as though put together incorrectly, others completely blown apart as though with an explosive and with blood all over the room. Puddles of it with chunks of flesh dripping from the tables and splatters all over the walls paint a gruesome picture and she turns her eyes towards the only thing in the room that isn't a horrifying picture of gore.

A woman stands a good ten paces from her, like everything else in the room she has blood on her, but not nearly so much as everything else. In her right hand is a sword which looks like it comes straight out of a fairy tale, and the shield in her left looks much the same, practically glowing and completely clean of blood, both items are of a grace that just screams the "M" word to her. The woman herself is slightly tanned, having long pale brown hair and an orange flower pinned in it. Her military uniform is fairly standard, a deep green tucked into black boots. Her features however, are set into a scowl, her glare being hot enough to evaporate magma. At first, Freak is scared at the look the woman is sending her way, but then she notices how the hands holding her are shaking as the man holding her shakes violently in fear. "D-Démon, reculer ou je t-t-tue l'enfant" the man stutters out some sort of nonsense and presses the metal thing harder to her head. She just keeps still, not wanting to be killed over moving too much. "Maintenant, il n'y a pas besoin d'être hâtive" the woman responds calmly. She can hear the man's heart speed up in response to her words. He's practically twitching now, tears leaking out of his eyes after watching this woman slaughter all of his associates like pigs. It is when she takes a hesitant step forward, sword lowered that his composure breaks. Freak only has enough time to meet the woman's suddenly terrified eyes before she feels a horrible pain in her forehead over her scar before everything goes black.

...

...

Hundreds of miles away, in a massive castle in Scotland, many of the devices and doodads in the office of Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore either stop moving and go black, explode, or melt as the prophecy child, the Girl-Who-Lived, Iris Dorea Potter meets her death at the end of a muggle gun.

The old man himself isn't even in the room, having been gone for some time at a meeting of the ICW in France, and his phoenix companion Fawkes is absent as well, not spending ALL his time sitting in the headmaster's office. The only one there to witness the evidence of the Potter child's demise and subsequent vanishing from the Hogwarts register is the Sorting Hat, who doesn't even know what the malfunctioning devices mean, so it simply huffs to itself in irritation before going back to sleep, along with the sleeping portraits around the room who weren't even disturbed by the malfunctioning devices.

Only a few miles away, England doesn't even twitch as the connection to one of his citizens is severed, having grown used to feeling the deaths of his citizens. Though he would have noticed the connection being reestablished, albeit a bit more weakly had Spain not descended upon him at that moment, axe raised high and still angry for the insult to his Armada. England jumped away gracefully, odd phenomena forgotten as he focuses on avoiding having his head taken off by an angry Spaniard.

...

Hungary doesn't even hesitate after watching it happen, her sword left her hand before the man could even drop the child, impaling him up to the hilt as his body is pinned to the wall behind him through his heart; He struggles feebly for a moment before going still. Leaping forward, she catches the falling body before it can hit the ground and can only stare at the hole which looks back at her accusingly. The child's dead eyes look up at her, fear still present at the horrifying events that just transpired. Closing her eyes, Hungary attempts to stifle her tears as guilt overwhelms her. Her bloodlust had gotten the better of her and now an innocent little girl had paid the ultimate price for her failure. What kind of savior did she think she was? What kind of Nation had she become?, that she let her need for a good fight let a little girl die? How could she ever allow herself to-her despairing thoughts are interrupted by a burst of black smoke coming out from under her. Leaping back so fast her form blurs, Hungary gapes as a screaming mass of black smoke emerges from the hole in the little girl's forehead. For a moment she swears she can she a skull like head in the smoke before the screams die off and the cloud dissipates. Immediately after this she leaps forward and grasps at the dead girl's body again, but what she see's nearly gives the old nation a heart attack. Clear, unblemished skin where before there had been a hole in her head. It is when the girl's chest begins rising and falling that Hungary has to mentally reassure herself that this girl is not in fact a new personification, nor a vampire or human-shaped phoenix, that much she's fairly certain of. But if not that, then how exactly did she just come back from the dead? Quite frankly, the nation is fairly sure she's never seen a human come back from the dead before and she still doesn't know what to do when a hesitant tap on her shoulder snaps her out of her daze. Turning to face the person, she comes face to face with one of the kids who had been held here " Euh, je ne sais pas W-qui vous êtes, . Mais peut-être vous devriez aller, Tu sais, si tu ne vas pas nous tuer ou quoi?" He states as though it were a question. Sighing, the nation stands, holding the little girl in her arms " Chacun de vous sortir d'ici" she orders, and none of them hesitate before they run to the open door and the stairs, some stopping to empty whatever is left in their stomachs before continuing on.

Hungary herself just closed her eyes for a moment to let the situation sink in before doing the same. She can hear police sirens in the distance and she doesn't want to have to explain how and why she massacred over a dozen thugs to rescue a young child, nor explain to France why she decided to do so when everyone was supposed to be coming together in cooperation and friendship in just a few hours. Besides, the local Aurors would likely detect the outpouring of whatever magic that was and come to investigate, though if they don't, those kids might just start spreading the word of little girls defying death and women with Heracles level strength, which would be a hassle and a half. Finally reaching the top of the stairs, she simply reapplies her grip to the still slumbering girl before leaping up, glancing off the opposite wall before pushing off of it and doing so several times before she finds herself on the roof. She can see the hotel where the nations are staying in the distance. Bracing herself, Hungary runs forward and leaps, dozens of meters of open air are covered in seconds as she lands on another roof, barely stopping before jumping again, this time the building is only a block or so away. Stopping on the roof she landed on, she ponders for a moment before coming to a decision. Her room is on the west side of the building to her southern position on the fifth floor so she'll just have to climb up and around before dropping onto the balcony of her room. she can only imagine the questions if the U.N.'s Hungarian diplomat were to march into the hotel, covered in blood and holding a small child. Likely everyone not a nation, and even a few of them regardless(the slavs most likely) would think she had murdered a group of people and stolen a child off the streets to us as a hostage or something.

So she would have to sneak into her room to wash up before the girl woke up, as well as get ready for the dinner downtown. Making one last leap, she landed with a thud on the roof of the hotel. Walking over to the western side, she holds the girl under one arm while she uses the other to hold onto the wall. Swinging down past the first balcony, she holds on for a moment before letting go and dropping again. She does this several times before she makes it to her floor, although along the way she had seen several raunchy scenes that normally she wouldn't have hesitated to peek in on if she wasn't currently holding onto a death defying toddler and covered in blood. Opening the sliding door and stepping in she immediately walks over to the bathroom. Closing the door behind her she walks over to the shower and turns it up to warm before allowing it to get warmed up. Mechanically she removes the oversized sweater from the girl before setting it in the sink. Removing the girl's underwear she doesn't get a pretty picture, her body was malnourished and thin, she also had a slightly sickly pallor that spoke of living in the darkness for long periods of time. It was her clothing that spoke to her the most however: The sweater which she had been wearing was barely more than a dishrag, even the homeless often had better than that. This child had most likely spent her few years of life stuck in the dark of some basement before somehow finding her way to the streets where she had promptly been kidnapped by a gang of human traffickers before Hungary showed up. Quickly stripping off her own clothes, the nation stepped softly into the shower, not wanting to jostle the small child in her arms. Resting her small head on her bosom, Hungary sighs softly to herself as she softly begins scrubbing the blood from their skins, and she likes to think it isn't her imagination that the girl snuggles deeper into her chest as a soothing hand runs through her hair with soap. Several minutes of careful ministration reveal the child's hair to be a deep black with small jets of crimson throughout if looked at by a certain angle. Somewhat wild as well, though manageable. With all the blood on their bodies gone, Hungary shifts both her hands to holding the girl to her chest as she slows rocks from side to side, humming lightly. Opening her eyes to look down at the little girl, she is struck by an intense longing that she instantly suppresses before it can take hold.

Moment of peace ruined nonetheless, the nation turns off the water and steps out of the shower, grabbing a few towels as she walks. Leaving the bloodied clothes on the ground, she moves over to her suitcase and travelling bag, only stopping to set the child down on the bed. Digging around for a moment, she smirks slightly to herself as she pulls out a small green maid's dress, chuckling to herself, she begins dressing the girl in underclothes and then stuffing her into the dress. If she hadn't seen for herself how underfed and unhealthy the girl was, she would be cooing over how cute she looked in it. Smiling sadly at the thought, she picks up the still unconscious girl delicately, pulling back the covers of the luxurious bed(Thank you, France) and laying her down before carefully tucking her in. Slowly she rubs her thumb over the girl's forehead where a lightning bolt scar had once been(though she didn't know that) before moving away to her suitcase once more.

...

A good hour later and the Hungarian nation is almost ready to leave for the nation dinner in two hours. Sitting at the desk provided by the hotel she puts the final words into a note that she's going to leave for the girl when she wakes. She'd written it in several times in several languages just to be sure, though she wasn't sure if the girl could read yet, she didn't know if the girl was even from France so she had no way of knowing if she had even gone to school yet. Still, it wasn't like she could do anything about it if she couldn't read, she still had to go to the nation dinner or people(namely Prussia and Austria) would start wondering where she was, and she wasn't sure she was ready to explain where she got a malnourished toddler who rose from the dead but wasn't a personification. Figuring she might as well get going a bit early, Hungary walked over to the door before turning off all but a small light near the bed. Looking back at the tiny little girl in one of Italy's old maid dresses, she had to quickly avert her eyes as she stubbornly refuses to be swayed as she closes and locks the door behind her, her gown shining as she heads towards the elevators to catch a taxi to the restaurant.

It was already 6:30 by the time Hungary actually arrived at the restaurant. Normally a taxi ride several blocks wouldn't take over an hour but halfway there she had spotted Austria, who despite having left even earlier than her in an effort to arrive on time, not that it did any good, as he still got lost. He was still as bad with directions as ever and had ended up going in the opposite direction of the building he was looking for. So being the good friend/ex-wife/ally that she was, she offered to let him ride in the taxi with her. He accepted of course, but also asked that they find Switzerland, who had called him a moment ago to ask him to help locate Liechtenstein as she had forgotten her phone, bulky thing that it was. In the end they had ended up paying double what the trip would have warranted and even after finding the Swiss nation it turned out that Liechtenstein had gone out on a walk and ended up at the restaurant after some wandering and was now chatting happily with France.

Now, sitting at an immaculate table in the large ballroom, Hungary is internally running in circles trying to explain the mystery she left in her hotel room bed. She wishes she could stop, especially when it's one of those rare times when all her loved ones are together in the same place for more than business, but even with Austria, Prussia and his brother, as well as Ita all chatting casually, peaceful smiles on their faces, she can't focus on them. For the last 40 years, things had been getting more and more dull as time progressed, or if she was being honest with herself, at least the last 4 centuries. And while she appreciated all her friends greatly, her adventurous spirit had been suppressed out of necessity in the new world of peace and international cooperation and this recent conundrum was too interesting for her to ignore when it was right beneath her nose.

Her friends had yet to notice her contemplative silence, and so she plastered a smile on her face even as she mentally ran hundreds of thousands of ideas through her head simultaneously while at the same time keeping pace with the conversation going on in front of her. Even so she was convinced that Austria and Prussia had noticed her distraction, though having known them for over a thousand years it wasn't really all that surprising they could read her so easily and just as easily knew better than to push unless they wanted a concussion.

When Prussia said 'awesome' for the three hundred and fifty second time that night, and Italy said 'pasta' for the nine hundred and twelfth time, Hungary slammed her head on the table with a groan, unable to concentrate even as her ex-husband smirked at the albino and Italian victoriously.

Awareness returned to her slowly, the heady feeling of unconsciousness still hanging over her like a particularly heavy fog. The migraine the size of Australia(A few miles away, Australia sneezed) wasn't exactly helping her recovery. Whimpering slightly from the pain, she reached up to rub her forehead in an attempt to relieve the pain only to stop in shock as she felt her scar. Or rather, where her scar used to be, as all there was now was some slightly tender skin. Words could not describe her shock, for as long as she could remember her lightning shaped scar had always been there, an angry red yet not bleeding. She was pretty sure at least; Wracking her brain for answers she immediately panics when she comes up with nothing. Sitting up, eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears she repeatedly attempted to remember something, anything about anything and came up with a a mass of thin jelly which slid out of her reach as soon as she attempted to grasp at it and an escalated headache which soon became too much for the young child as she once again fell into unconsciousness.

...

It was dark when she awoke again, this time unburdened by headsplitting pain as she sat up. Confusion once more overcame her as she realized she had no idea where she was. Looking around frantically, the child realized she was in a lavishly decorated room, which was a bigger display of wealth than the she had ever witnessed, and she gaped not comprehending the situation around her even as the realization that she was wearing a well made green dress with a white apron made her want to cry even more(as again she had no idea how she was wearing it). Sniffling, she cautiously felt the fabric of the-bed? that she was laying in, the material was what she imagined solid water to feel like if it were not wet. The feeling was pure bliss and, temporarily distracted from her dilemma, she closed her eyes and just drank in the sensation all over her arms and legs as she leaned over to get more contact with the blankets, giggling slightly as the soft sheets tickled her.

It seemed as if no time at all had passed when her girlish giggling was interrupted by the sound of a knob turning. Freezing where she sat, the girl quickly lay back down and quieted her breathing, though she wasn't sure why she did so.

This was the scene Hungary came upon when she finally returned to her room in the hotel. Of course, she wasn't fooled by the girl's pathetic attempt at pretending to sleep, but she figured she would indulge her if only in an effort not to frighten the poor thing to death(no pun intended). So, closing the door behind her and locking it, she put down her purse and approached the bed. The little girl's face was pinched ever so slightly in an adorable display of effort at faking sleep. Given their location, she decided to talk to her in French, "Bonjour, jeune" she intoned amusedly even as she poked the girl in the stomach. The girl's face showed clear confusion, even as she hastily attempted to stifle a giggle. She was glad, the girl seemed a bit too wary at first, but the childish attempt to pretend sleep and high-pitched giggling were clear signs she hadn't been too badly scarred by her kidnapping. Since French didn't work she decided to go for the next best thing and ask in English, "Hello, child, can you understand me?" Luckily Hungary's accent, while notable, was not too pronounced as to make it harder to understand her, and it seemed her young guest agreed for her eyes were now open and staring at her. Hungary's smile softened from amused to caring as they matched gazes, the little girl's wide green eyes were alight with innocence even as they practically shone with their own inner light. Though curiously, she showed no signs of recognizing her even though they were filled with apprehension at meeting someone who was practically a stranger.

After a moment of silence, the girl dressed in a small maid's outfit hesitantly spoke up, "Um, s'cuze me, but who'ryouandwhereisthisandwhoamIandwhycan'tIrememberanythingandcanyoupleasehelpme? The girl spoke so fast her words blurred together and became harder to discern even as she began to tear up towards the end of her panic induced rant. Heart melting near instantly at the sight of the tears in her eyes, Hungary moved to embrace the girl, poor thing that she was. Overwhelmed and unable to distract herself with the silky sheets, she broke down in tears even as she clung to Hungary like bark to a tree, sniffling and sobbing. The woman herself just sighed and absentmindedly ran her fingers through the girl's hair even as she embraced her, thoughts whirring at the hastily translated English she had spewed. The bullet must have given the child amnesia, though she suspected from the girl's attire and circumstances that there wasn't much worth remembering anyhow. Still, that she couldn't remember her own name, nor where she was and what had happened to her would complicate things. Hungary had only intended to save the girl's life, and perhaps an get an answer to why she had returned to life after dying. Perhaps a little help in bettering her situation given her poor circumstance. Now, she would have to ask France if there were any missing person's reports recently, and if there weren't, well she couldn't just let a little girl like that go to an orphanage where whatever bad circumstances she was in possibly continue, or even have her discovered by Unspeakables and be used for research into whatever saved her life.

Said traumatized girl was too busy huddling closer to the protective embrace of the woman to notice her worry as she let out her frustrations, and had no intention of moving. From where she was, she could feel a warmth she was entirely unfamiliar with yet she found herself craving as strong yet gentle arms enveloped her small frame. Even now she could feel herself settling comfortably into her embrace as the woman's fingers ran soothingly through her hair, making her somewhat drowsy.

Unable to sense the nation's inner conflict, she just settled herself comfortably even as Hungary's thoughts ran in circles. On one hand, she was sure with the resources at her disposal she could easily find the girl some potential guardians amongst her people by a simple scan for potential couples that would love to have a child to care for. She could also just as easily ask France to deal with the issue, as the girl had been apparently living in his country at the time. Not to mention the girl was a human, as fleeting as a small breeze in the lifespan of a nation. On the other hand, it was clear no one would be looking for a child in such rags and wandering the streets. Not to mention, she didn't want to leave an innocent child to be discovered by any half baked dark wizard who might get curious about the residual dark magic on her. However, all those reasons fell short as the true reason made the decision for her.

Hungary was lonely.

Sure, she had plenty of friends, acquaintances, and allies to talk and hang around with. However all of them were nations and as such were almost always busy. In the last 100 years the amount of paperwork she had to do in a year had multiplied a hundredfold, as had the amount of diplomacy and politics she had to partake in. All of the countries she was close with were too busy trying to help their bosses fix their problems to indulge in their usual hobbies, not to mention her own economic and governmental problems that she couldn't so easily heap on her underlings any more. Without any border conflicts or wars to fight, she found herself doing more paperwork and politicking than ever, so her time to 'hang out' as the people are saying these days and indulge her hobbies was diminished. And by that reasoning, she couldn't find it in herself to interrupt Mr. Austria when he got time to play his favorite melodies, nor Germany and Italy when they got enough free time to have fun. She could always go hunting and/or pranking with Prussia, but he was only one person, and he had his own friends. Truly, what has my life come to? Hungary just closed her eyes and sighed at the thought, wondering how best to approach the situation now that she had decided upon a course of action.

In the end, it was the girl herself, huddled up to her like a little hairless koala bear who gave her the perfect segway into the topic.

"Are uhh...are you my mummy?"

It came out hesitant, as though scared the question might offend the kind woman holding her as though she was precious, breakable china. Hungary just smiled lightly from above her even as her heart clenched painfully at the hopeful yet scared tone in her still immature voice. Hungary, like any woman, nation or not had contemplated the idea of having a child in the past. But her life as a nation had closed that road to her. Her life was one of bloodshed and war, and no way for a child to live, after living that life herself, she knew she didn't want it for any child, let alone her own. But even in this modern age of 'peace', the real problem with nations and children had stayed her from trying. She remembered the ancients, along with all those who had faded after them. Ancient Greece had faded only after her own son was born and growing. Germania had vanished after his sons Holy Rome and Prussia had succeeded him, taking his place. For nations, children meant death, after for some thousands of years of being one of the most powerful beings on Earth being replaced and essentially killed by ones' own beloved offspring. It was a frightening concept, signalling great change in ones people and government, whether rapid expansion and revolution, or complete degradation and collapse into a new country entirely. After over a millennia of satisfying life, even Hungary was not immune to the fear of death a child implied. Taking a deep breathe to settle her nerves after such an unknowingly loaded question, Hungary replied softly to her inquiry. "As long as you want me to be dear." It was unfortunately misleading, and she felt terribly guilty about using such deceitful words against the girl, but she couldn't bear to lie to her, with her skinny arms and large luminescent eyes, the child in her arms made for a very tragic(and soo very cute) picture of childish innocence.

The slightly dishonest words flew right over her head of course and the relieved, teary-eyed smile Hungary received in return was brighter than the sun and only succeeded in making her feel a bit guiltier, no matter how mushy it made the old warrior feel on the inside.

"Uhh... mummy?"

"Hmm?" she hummed curiously as the little girl in her arms squirmed in obvious discomfort.

"Uhh...whatsmynamewhatsyournamewhereareweareweathomedoyouknowwhyIcantrememberanythingdoIhaveapapa?" She was left breathing hard after letting all her questions out in one breathe. Hungary simply raised an eyebrow in amusement at the child huffing and red from embarrassment. Chuckling, she replied after a quick moment of contemplation, "Well, my name is Elizaveta Héderváry, your name is...Amira Héderváry. We are not actually at m-our home, but in a hotel room for my, uhh...business meeting, my husband and I separated some years ago and I'm afraid you cant remember anything because you recently hit your head pretty hard, and it caused you to forget everything." Most of that was at least true, in a manner of speaking. "The meeting is done though and it's time for us to take the train home." The newly named Amira just nodded distractedly as her eyes began to droop. Pulling the girl away from her bosom for a moment, Hungary chuckles as she pulls a handkerchief from thin air, dabbing gently at the tear-tracts and snot running down her new daughter's face. "Now I want you to do your best to sleep, because we have a long trip on the train ahead of us tomorrow. I need to take a shower and I'll join you after I'm done." The tiny brunette just nods her head obediently, too tired to argue as she stretches her arms above her head with a yawn. With a soft smile to hide her aching heart, Hungary leans in and kisses her adoptive child on the temple before tucking her back under the covers of the bed.

From the bed, the young Amira could swear she was looking upon the visage of an angel. Sitting on the side of the bed, Hungary, who was dressed in an exquisite forest green gown that matched her eyes and reflected the lamplight like dew in the early morning. Her pale brown locks that fell in gentle waves down past her shoulders and soft features that hid a powerful strength behind a kind smile which filled the girl's mind with images of rolling green hills and wild forests. Though she didn't actually know what an angel was, listening to her mother's voice as she quietly sang in a language she couldn't understand was what made her mummy divine in her eyes.

AN: Hey, this will probably be the first story I post on the site. I have other stuff in the works but this one just flowed in one night and I'll see where it goes if anywhere.

I thought, lets try a Hungary finds young harry and through a series of events decides to keep him around. Then I thought, that's a bit too generic so let's make it fem!harry. It was a bit more dark/gorey than I had anticipated at first but It's not too visceral in my opinion. I'll try to keep it original after this so as to separate myself from other writers. I also intend to expand more on nations as a concept later on. There will be more HP stuff next chapter. I already hinted a few things.

Also in this fic the Magic Trio are still the magic trio, but because they use magic the most out of all the nations. Though unlike canon Hetalia, magic is widely acknowledged by the countries, though America will still mess with England over it, and it will be more of a background issue as they still have to focus on the much larger muggle world.

In regards to the register of names. I don't think even the founders would program the book to reinstate a child to the register after they had definitively been killed, no matter if the book records names when kids are born. After they die, the book would probably ignore them even if the signature reappeared, as it could be an attempt to mimick the signature of a dead child to plant a spy. Beyond that, no way to bring back the dead for real has ever been found in the HP world, so I doubt the founders would have factored that into the thing, much less a child being brought back.

I also apologize to any French or German speakers for using google translate to butcher your languages