A/N: Apologies to those who read Hetalia and/or HP fanfiction for the shipping, but I should mention in advance that there'll be very little explicit romance in this story. Heck, this is a fic set during the seventh book; I'd be a pretty crappy writer if all I can write about is who hooks up with whom. There might be mild flirting and innuendos at best, but don't expect to see any hot snogging scenes.

A warning to those who are sensitive about profanity: there will be liberal use of it throughout the fic. I'll try to use lighter words whenever I can, but be warned that F-bombs will be dropped every now and then.

The atmosphere in Diagon Alley seemed darker, Arthur noted with a grimace. Normally it was crowded, noisy, and full of life. Now, the wind whistled through empty streets and rattled the bare windows of abandoned, barricaded shops. Stillness pressed down around him. Each footstep scraped loudly against the dusty road, and the sound seemed to resonate down the long, barren alley.

Arthur's gaze flickered briefly around him, and he thought he saw several pairs of eyes watching him from the dark side streets. Of course he had expected to draw attention; his beige vest, collared shirt, and neatly pressed trousers gave him a very conspicuous Muggle appearance, something that was difficult to ignore in the wizarding central of London. But still, something about the stares seemed a little... off.

He straightened his back and cocked his head up. He was the United bloody Kingdom, damn it; he was not going to be intimidated by a few leering eyes in the shadows.

The rusty sign of the Leaky Cauldron creaked faintly overhead as it swung in the wind. Never before had it looked so battered and worn—or maybe it was only now that Arthur noticed it, when there was nothing else to see in the gloomy vicinity. The sign used to mark a friendly, social gateway between two worlds, a sanctuary constantly bustling with dynamic chatter and quirky visitors; but now, as the brass silhouette swayed from its groaning chains, it gave him more of an ominous feeling than a welcoming one.

Frowning, Arthur pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The only shift of movement was from the bar, where Tom the landlord sat alone in the dark, musty pub. His head jerked up when Arthur entered, and he quickly scrambled to his feet as the blonde seated himself at the empty counter.

"Kirkland," Tom said, peering at Arthur with a toothless smile. "It's been a while."

"Too long, Tom," Arthur sighed, returning the smile ruefully. "I must say though, coming back to this—" he gestured out the window "—wasn't quite what I expected."

"Ah, yes." The humour slipped from Tom's expression. "Depressing, isn't it? It's been like this for a long time... People are afraid to come out in public, with all the dark wizards prowling around day and night. It's terrible for business too. You're the first customer I've had in quite some time—you'd like anything, by the way?"

"I'll take a glass of mead, if you don't mind." As Tom began rummaging through his stock, Arthur furrowed his brows and crossed his legs underneath the counter. "But that's awful, that people are too frightened to even leave their homes. Surely the Ministry should be doing something about this?"

"They should, but..." Tom glanced around as if he were afraid of being overheard, even though the rest of the pub was deserted, and then he leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, "They say You-Know-Who's behind all these changes at the Ministry. Thing is, nobody knows where he is. Some say he's planning something big, even bigger than taking over the government, and people are talking about leaving the country before it's too late. That's easier said than done though, I wouldn't be surprised if those Death Eaters are prowling around the borders as well." He frowned and turned his attention back to his disordered stock of bottles. "Ah, bollocks, I think I'm out of mead. Sorry, Kirkland, but would you mind waiting here a bit? I'll go fetch some more, shan't be a minute."

Arthur waved his assent and watched the old landlord disappear into a back room, leaving him sitting alone in the gloom. Leaning his elbow on the countertop, he turned over Tom's words in his head. From what he had heard and seen, the magical world was a complete mess. Clearly, being the only nation who kept in regular contact with wizards hadn't been enough. He didn't even know who the new Minister for Magic was, and judging by how corrupt the Ministry had become, Arthur decided it would be wisest not to reveal his true identity to him; the very last thing he needed was for that kind of information to leak its way to Voldemort. He really didn't think he was in a good position to fight the Dark Lord and his legions of supporters, especially now that Albus Dumbledore—his friend, his former colleague, and quite possibly the only man Voldemort had ever feared—was dead.

With a heavy sigh, Arthur closed his eyes and put a hand to his temple. He didn't look up even when the creak of the door signalled another person coming into the Leaky Cauldron. There was a brief rustling of a cloak, and then the new arrival sat wordlessly at the bar a few seats away from Arthur, staring steadily forward, waiting for the barman's return. Arthur threw a furtive glance sideways, and through the shadows he could see a tall, skinny figure dressed in black, with a slightly crumpled witch hat resting in her lap and her greying hair pulled back in a tight bun. From his vantage point, he could just barely make out her face... and to his immense astonishment, it was a very familiar face.

He squinted. It couldn't be...

Perhaps noticing that she was being stared at, the woman turned her head, and their eyes met. Both froze for a split second. Then Arthur said, in an oddly constricted voice, "Miss—Miss McGonagall?"

Her mouth opened and closed a few times without a sound coming out. Only when Arthur's face broke into a faint smile did she manage to recover her voice. "Professor Kirkland?"

"Oh, good, you remember me," Arthur said with a slight chuckle.

Minerva McGonagall stared for a few seconds, and then visibly attempted to pull herself together. "It's hardly difficult to recognise you," she said, her crisp tone regaining some of the edge that even her former teacher remembered well. "You haven't seemed to change in the slightest."

"Neither have you," Arthur said, standing up and walking over to give Minerva a hug, which she warmly returned. "You're still the same sharp girl I used to teach all those years ago."

The corners of her lips twitched upwards as they pulled apart. "I'm not sure 'girl' is the appropriate word here," she said. "I'm afraid my age is finally beginning to catch up to me."

"Yes, time finds its way with all of us eventually. Even with those who never appear to change," Arthur added sagely, eliciting a peculiar look from Minerva. He merely gave her a small, enigmatic smile. "So," he said, sitting down next to her, "how have you been?"

If she was thrown by the sudden shift in topic, she hid it well. "I've had better days, I must admit," she said. "This summer has been quite chaotic. Hogwarts is undergoing so many changes now that... Albus... is..."

Something in her voice broke and she muffled a cough in her hands, perhaps trying to cover up the fleeting moment of emotion. Arthur's eyes softened, and he laid his hand over hers with a slight nod. He understood. Neither of them needed to say anything more about it.

"I'm worried," he confessed quietly after a short silence. "No doubt the Dark Lord will attempt to take over the school eventually, if not very soon. Mr Riddle had always been fond of the place."

Minerva made tiny, apprehensive noise at the name. With Voldemort's nigh inhuman presence casting a shadow over them, it was easy to forget that he was once a student of Hogwarts as well. "I'm afraid that time may have come already," she said grimly. "The Ministry is now responsible for major staffing changes at Hogwarts, and from what little I've heard, it seems that we'll be having a few Death Eaters within our walls next year." Her eyes flashed at the notion of such people prowling around the esteemed corridors of the school.

Meanwhile, Arthur's heavy brows furrowed, and for a minute he seemed deep in thought.

"Tell me, love," he said slowly, "how many teaching positions are there left open? Perhaps... I could consider stepping in for a little while. If only to prevent somebody with far more sinister motives from entering the school."

Minerva looked taken aback by this suggestion. "Well, I'm not exactly authorised to make those decisions right now," she said, frowning. "If the Ministry officially appoints me as Headmistress, I would be happy to let you come back and teach again. As it is, however... you'd have to speak with the Department of Magical Education first. But sir," she added, "are you sure you'll be all right coming back to Hogwarts? They run background checks on everybody who enters the school now, with ridiculously extensive interrogations of those who have... questionable histories."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Arthur said with a wry smile, as Tom finally reappeared from the back room holding a large bottle of mead. "I daresay that will be the least of my problems."

"Dude, you're going to what?"

"I said," Arthur repeated with faint annoyance, "that I'll be going to teach at Hogwarts for some time, and thus will be absent from world meetings starting September. That's in two months, if you haven't been paying attention as usual."

Alfred leaned back in his chair and whistled. "Man, that's kinda stupid," he said, crossing his legs and folding his hands behind his head. "You just gonna get off your ass and leave like that? Arms, dude. It's like the freakin' eighteenth century all over again—not cool."

Arthur paled slightly; he looked as though Alfred had hit him in the face. "That has nothing to do with this," he muttered, looking down at the table and avoiding the American's eyes. "The school is in danger, and the students even more so. I want to—no, I need to be there to keep them safe."

"But why do you even care?" Alfred demanded, oblivious to the uneasy looks he was getting from some of the more sensitive nations. "It's just a stupid magic school."

"This 'stupid magic school' happens to be the finest in the world," Arthur said irritably, his head snapping up to glare at Alfred again, "and damn if I'm going to just sit by and allow Death Eaters to run rampant all over it and destroy its honour like they're doing to my country!"

Murmurs rippled around the room at Arthur's outburst. "But how are you even going to get in?" Elizabeta asked, transparently trying to divert from the touchy issue. "You're not even human!"

"England may not be, but Arthur Kirkland certainly is," he pointed out. "I've already gotten my official documents sorted out, and they should be enough to satisfy the authorities. About time I had them replaced anyway, since I'd be approaching forty by now and I don't look nearly the part..."

"I must beg to differ there, Angleterre," Francis said loftily, and Arthur scowled at him.

"I have no time to argue with you, frog," he snapped. "I've got a fucking civil war brewing and my people are being murdered left and right as we speak. Hell, innocent children are suffering just because some bastard and his followers don't like how they were born and are hellbent on slaughtering them all!"

Francis looked genuinely surprised by the harshness in his rival's voice, and for once he fell silent without a single petty retort. Then Feliciano piped up, looking childishly sombre, "Ve... Germany had to do something like that too, didn't he? Remember, Germany, it was that really scary guy with the funny moustache who told you to make all those creepy camps! Ve, remember, Germany? Germanyyy?" Feliciano prodded the blonde nation sitting beside him, but Ludwig remained motionless, staring down at his tightly clenched fists. Many expressions around the room were beginning to change from bemusement to horrified understanding.

Dead silence fell over the meeting. The only sound was the short, steady ticking of the clock—when suddenly, America bounded up from his chair and slammed his hands on the table, making a few people jump.

"Y'know what, this looks like a job for the hero again!" he declared loudly, eager resolve blazing in his bright blue eyes. "We can't have this Mouldyshorts guy pulling off another Holocaust!"

"His name's Vol—"

"So here's what we're gonna do!" Alfred hit the table again before Arthur could finish his sentence. "The hero's gonna go to this magic school with Iggy and then kick some evil wizard ass! Leave it all to me!" Ignoring Arthur's loud, disbelieving "What?", Alfred began pointing at various nations around the room: "Japan, you can come be my backup! Iggy, I'll have you as my backup too! France and China will also be my backup, and—"

"Hold it, you self-absorbed git!" Arthur cut in, pushing back his chair with such force that it almost clattered over. "This is absurd! None of you are coming to my country and invading my school—"

But then he was interrupted by Ivan, whose unsettling presence spoke louder than any nation's words ever could. "If America is bringing friends to England's magic school, then we are wanting to come as well," he said pleasantly, glancing at Toris and Yao, both of whom looked visibly disturbed. Alfred glowered at Ivan and muttered something about "Commie bastard ruining the fun" under his breath; across the table, Feliks was shooting an equally hostile glare at the Russian.

"If Liet is going, then I'll totally go too!" he said fiercely, throwing an arm around a clearly apprehensive Toris.

"Ooh, I'll come with hyung and Japan!" Yong Soo piped up with an excited flail. The two Asians in question looked less than pleased about this.

"I too would like a look at this school," Ludwig growled stonily, lifting his head at last.

The entire table quickly broke into loud chatter as the other nations began voicing their own opinions about Alfred's proposed course of action. Friends were debating whether or not to follow, older nations were trying to dissuade younger ones, and there was talk all around about going back and checking up on their own long-forgotten magical communities, lest their own countries end up in the same ugly predicament. Arthur stood briefly stunned at how the whole meeting had spiralled out of control in less than a minute. Then he shook his head and sank back down into his seat, grinding his teeth in frustration.

"Are you going to allow us to help you, England-san?" Kiku asked quietly amid the chaos.

"I'd rather not," Arthur muttered exasperatedly, "but honestly, I don't think I have much of a choice."