And so the set-up process began.

The first step, at Matthew's insistence, was to make sure Mr. Kumajiro could successfully infiltrate a world conference meeting without being found out. Luckily for them, they didn't have long to wait in order to test this. Not four days after agreeing to help, a conference was to be held in France (much to Arthur's disdain). France and England had always had a confusing relationship, and the same could be said for Francis and Arthur. One moment they'd be laughing together, the next they'd be trying to give each other black eyes.

"How to make Kumajiro look like you...there is a potion, but it takes a month to make...it's not meant for animals though. I don't fancy potion making anyway. I'll have to do some research." It had taken a full night for Arthur to figure out how to make Kumajiro look like Mathew, but in the end, he managed.

Matthew sat in Arthur's basement-turned-wizard craft area, dubbed 'The Sanctum'. The room reminded him of a dungeon, but it wasn't at all unpleasant. The air was musty and full of smells he couldn't name. Like in England's office, the room was lined with bookshelves; though the tomes in here looked significantly older judging by the outward spines. Most were dark coloured, and many hadn't any titles to be seen. Arthur himself was pouring over an old, somewhat burnt book on his working desk.

A fireplace was lit in the back, warming the room with odd flames that seemed to change colours at random, illuminating the strange markings drawn in chalk that littered the stone floors. A large silver cauldron sat beside the fireplace, though it was covered in cobwebs, showing signs of its disuse. Various jars full of things Matthew was sure he didn't want to know about rested on other available surfaces, some even crammed in between the many books. Some of these jars also glowed; one in particular gave him the creeps, as it was silver and...somehow, it made him feel sad.

"It's an old dark magic, and I'm almost positive it's not taught anymore. And for good reason- this kind of power shouldn't be in selfish hands. Dark magic isn't looked at in a good light these days. Most will think you're evil if you so much as show an interest in it." Arthur informed Matthew as he stood up walked over to him, taking his hand gently in his. Swiftly, painlessly, he pricked Matthew's right index with a needle. A red bead quickly formed.

"Just a few enchantments, and a vial of life blood," he scooped up the little amount of blood that had spilled over into a minuscule glass bottle and corked it. He then pulled out his wand - a white stick with a yellow star on top – and waved it over the vial in a counter clockwise motion, chanting in a language that sounded like song, and yet...not. "And now, to hide it." He pointed his wand over to his desk, where a few scraps of leather lay strewn about. "Accio Leather!" the scraps lifted off the desk and flew over to him. "Wingardium Leviosa," he chanted with a distinct swish and flick. The leather came to a halt and hovered in mid-air. Arthur set the vial carefully onto one of the bigger pieces, and then, "Hoata!"

Matthew was blinded temporarily by a flash of white light. The next thing he knew, Arthur stood there holding an ornate necklace with a carved, red leather maple leaf pendant, held by a thin black strap. The veins on the leaf seemed to give off an ethereal glow.

"Done!" Arthur smiled to Matthew. "Now, whoever wears this shall look and sound just like you. It should even work for Kumajiro."

And it did work. As soon as the necklace was placed around the bear's neck, the transformation immediately took place. Kumajiro's hair retracted as he sprang upward, the hair on his head growing longer and turning blond. It was like watching a white blur, it happened so fast. The end result left both of them red in the face, and Arthur had to turn and run from the room. Regardless, it worked, but Matthew wasn't so sure that he was glad for the success. Something gnawed at his insides as he watched what could have been his naked reflection get used to the new form, opening and closing the newly acquired hands with wonder written all over his face.

...

"Now, when we go the meeting, you'll need to wear this." Arthur held out a dark green cloak to the Canadian. "This is called an invisibility cloak. It does what the name suggests; it makes the wearer invisible." Arthur didn't miss the look of absolute loathing Matthew gave it, and he didn't have to guess why. He gave the lad a sympathetic look with a small comforting, understanding smile. "I know...but if you both go as you, someone might notice. And I don't want to leave you behind. It's just a safety precaution", he quickly added. "Besides, this way you'll know how the test goes without having to rely on me to tell you."

This was true. But Matthew still wasn't sure if he should be happy about it or not. When Kumajiro had first suggested that he take his place while he went off to magic school, he had been touched, flattered that his little friend would do so much for him. Now though, he was feeling anxious. Would this plan really work? Was it worth it? He stared down at the seemingly innocent cloth folds in his hands. He had half a mind to throw it away from him, as if it burned him to touch it. Indeed, just holding the thing made his chest tighten to the point it was nearly hard to breathe.

But he said he would do this for Arthur, and Matthew was not the kind of person who would willingly go back on his word, not when the other seemed to genuinely need his help. Who was he to refuse?

So that was how Canada found himself leaning against the far corner of the meeting room, the accursed cloak pulled securely around himself so that he was completely hidden. He and England had made sure to arrive earlier so that he wouldn't have to worry about anyone bumping into him as he found a good spot to lurk in. "It makes you invisible, not intangible." Arthur whispered as they had walked to the building together, at least, before he was dragged to the side by an irate Romania.

Matthew had invisibly led Kumajiro, now an exact (and, thankfully, now fully dressed) replica of himself to a chair diagonally across from where England was assigned to sit. It wasn't abnormal for him to arrive first to a meeting, though hardly anyone ever noticed or even cared. The gnawing feeling in his gut returned.

Nations started filing in a few minutes after he had decided to inhabit the corner, and with them came the usual pre-meeting ruckus. Canada watched as America and Japan sat on either side of Kumajiro. The little nation-impostor slunk into in his seat a bit, possibly out of boredom, but Matthew paid little attention to that. What he noticed more was how the two nations proceeded to have a conversation right over his, well, Kumajiro's head, both literally and figuratively. A chill ran down his spine.

France and England finally entered the meeting room, bickering as usual. England took his seat beside China, and France took the seat on England's other side, neither of them ceasing their argument.

All in all, the meeting began as it always did – in a state of absolute chaos that only ended when Germany finally lost his temper; no one even noticed that the Canada at the table wasn't him. Or rather, that Canada was there at all. Matthew knew that he was easily overlooked. He knew that the other nations more than likely had more important things to talk about than to ask him how he was doing, or ask for his opinions on anything. But to actually see it happening, it was sickening. It was a nightmare, except he couldn't force himself to wake up. This wasn't a dream. This was his worst fears made reality.

And then, Matthew felt like he was viewing the meeting from behind a glass wall. No, that wasn't quite right. It was too hard to breathe, his vision was hazy, and he was freezing. The wall wasn't glass at all; it was ice. He was underneath the surface of a frozen lake, looking up at the others, wanting to reach out, to cry for help, but couldn't move as he sank deeper...

...

The meeting lasted two hours, having adjourned early since it was obvious nothing was being achieved. No one even noticed that there was something different with the Canada sitting at the table- if they had noticed him at all, which was completely debatable. No one had batted an eye when he ate the paper that had been handed out, listing the topics that needed to be discussed (though England had shot the bear-in-disguise a confused look). No one had given any inclination that there was an impostor among them.

Arthur and Kumajiro hung back, letting the others leave in groups, America leading the way complaining loudly about how boring the meeting had been. North Italy dragged Germany out of the room, babbling away at the different types of pasta he wanted to make for their dinner tonight. Romania left with Bulgaria and Norway, though the red-eyed man paused at the door to send England a worried look. Arthur nodded at the lad's concern, remembering their conversation from earlier.

"England, it's gone! I can't feel it anymore!"

"What? Calm down, you're not making any sense."

Romania stomped his foot in frustration; something that was out of character for the normally cheerful nation. "You know, that thing! The dark magic that was living in one of my forests. I told you and Nor about it when I first detected its presence a few years ago, remember? We had decided to just leave it there, since it was so isolated from civilization that it would cause no harm to my people. Well, I went back by the area a few weeks ago to check on it, and it was gone! Nowhere to be found. It couldn't have just vanished, could it? Magic as evil as that, it doesn't just simply dissipate."

"This is true...but we never found out exactly what that was in your forest. Maybe it was just a malevolent spirit that decided to move on?" England frowned in thought.

"You know as well as I do that ghosts cannot simply move on. At least, not the ghosts of magical folk; they willingly and knowingly stay behind. And that thing was definitely magical in origins. No, England, I think it moved." Romania fretted, fear and concern lacing his bright crimson eyes.

"Well, we'll just have to keep a look out then. But it's not like that was the only bit of dark magic wandering about in the world. It didn't cause any harm while at your place, so who's to say it's malevolent at all? Just because its dark magic doesn't mean it's necessarily evil."

Romania shifted on the spot and bit his lower lip with his fang-like teeth, still troubled. "England...I did a tarot reading."

England shook his head in a vain attempt to clear his mind of the warnings his fellow magical nation had given him. He had enough to worry about at the moment with his own troubling visions.

When the room was cleared out, the Englishman stood and stretched before looking around the now significantly quieter conference room. "Matthew, it's safe to come out now." he called, watching as the 'Matthew' in front of him reached up to his neck to remove the enchanted necklace. The bear shrank back into the seat, the hair on his head receding into the white fur that covered his entire body, and instantly becoming entangled in the now way-too-big-clothes.

Arthur laughed a little as he picked Kumajiro out from the cloth prison and set him onto the table, proceeding to fold the spare clothes that had been left behind in the chair. When he was done, he was shocked to find the room still void of a certain Canadian. "Matthew, the meeting is over, where are you?" he glanced around the room in confusion. Had the other nation representative thought the meeting was boring as well? Maybe he fell asleep under that cloak?

Emerald green eyes closed, and he took a deep, clearing breath, before opening them again, looking directly into what appeared to be an empty corner. There. Now that he was alert, Arthur could sense that there was something there, and that something could only be Canada.

He strode over, a hand outstretched, feeling for the hem of the invisibility cloak.

...

Matthew was quiet on the flight back to England, and Arthur let him be. The older nation knew little about what the Canadian was feeling, but he had an idea, judging from the slumped posture and the misty eyes that peered over his glasses, staring off into space. Kumajiro, tired from having to sit still and moderately behave for so long, curled up and fell asleep in a chair to himself.

It wasn't until they had arrived back and he closed the door to the guest room at the rose-covered cottage that Matthew finally broke down. He had only just managed to set the still sleeping Kumajiro at the foot of the bed before his legs gave out, and he slumped to the floor in a dejected heap. Yes, the plan had worked beautifully. Perfectly, even. Seamlessly, for goodness sake. Was he really so…disposable? He clenched his fist, head bowed as he watched a single teardrop fall upon his fingers. Japan had talked right over his head. Russia hadn't even tried to use him as a chair. Hell, Alfred, whom he considered to be his own brother, hadn't even noticed, and he was sitting right beside him! That right there was testament alone to how…invisible he was.

"Matthew?"

He ignored it. He couldn't stop the stream of tears now flowing down his face, and he didn't want anyone to know just how badly being invisible had affected him, how hard it had been watching himself be ignored in some kind of sick, third-person point of view. It was like watching some kind of bad movie about his life, with Kumajiro filling in as the main character. It was his worst phobia made a reality.

"Matthew, are you alright? May I come in?"

No. No, he wasn't alright. He curled in on himself, trying his best to stop shaking. But he couldn't. His heart felt like it was about to burst. He buried his head into his knees, wanting nothing more than to just vanish, for tonight had held proof what little influence he was to others. Why bother having such things as fears when no one even cared? Why bother even being here?

And then, he could feel strong arms wrapped around him, holding tight around his shoulders. It took a moment to register where he was; his cheek no longer pressed up against his knees, but rather the crisp fabric of a shirt, while a soft hand ran through his hair. Matthew shut his eyes even tighter, focusing on the sound of comforting words, reassuring him that it would be okay. England. It was England holding him, and somehow that just made the Canadian break down even further. He clutched the front of Arthur's shirt, sobbing openly now. Arthur merely pulled Matthew closer and began to rub soothing circles on his back. He tried to speak, to assure Arthur that he would be okay despite all the tears, but the Englishman shushed him and continued to comfort him.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the tension ebbed from the Canadian, as did the tears, until he was slumped against Arthur, drained physically and emotionally. His head still resting against the older nation's chest, Matthew pressed his cheek a bit closer, inhaling the scent that was so uniquely England; that wonderful smell of tea and magic that tickled his nose and brought to mind happier times between the two nations. He remembered the days when that smell could be labeled as the scent of home.

He was calmed down enough to begin to make sense of Arthur's words now, and he was stunned to discover what exactly the man was telling him.

"...and then when you had been with us for a solid year," a small chuckle, "you had gotten up extra early to make us all breakfast- it was the first time you had ever cooked for us. Remember? You were so pleased with yourself and Alfred demanded that you should be the one to always cook breakfast. He was absolutely enamored with your pancakes."

Matthew did remember that. He had wanted to celebrate being with his new family, had wanted to show them how happy he was to be with them.

"And then that winter when we had that good snowfall, you insisted on all of us going outside to play. Alfred refused because he hated the cold and proceeded to hide away in his blankets. You were on the verge of tears, but then I told you I'd help you make a snowman. As soon as we were both bundled up, you tugged me out of the house and began scooping up handfuls of snow and throwing it up in the air. We never did make that snowman, but we did have fun throwing snowballs at each other and making snow angels. And you slipped on the ice once, but recovered so smoothly it was like you were meant to glide on it. You were laughing so much. When we both got too cold to continue, we went inside with some snow in our arms, planning to douse Alfred in it since he didn't join us. We found him in the living room curled up with Kumajiro in front of the fireplace. As cute as the sight was, we showed no mercy."

They laughed together now, Arthur's chortle fond from reminiscing, and Matthew's a quiet, mischievous snicker as he recalled the horrified expression on Alfred's face. Matthew picked up where Arthur left off.

"And Alfred was so upset that he declared vengeance on us both and tried to tackle me, but that backfired since you and I were still freezing from being outside. Before he could run away, you scooped us both up into a tight hug and Alfred was screaming about how we were as cold as ice."

More quiet laughter as the air seemed to grow warmer, somehow, at the recollection. It was comfortable, being held by Arthur now, remembering the past. Remembering. This was exactly was he had needed to put his fears at ease.

"I'm sorry, Matthew." Arthur finally broke the content silence. Confused at the sudden apology, Matthew shifted slightly so he could look up at the Englishman without pulling away from the embrace. "It was cruel of me to ask you to wear an invisibility cloak. It'll never happen again."

Indeed, the experience hadn't been a pleasant one. He had sat in that corner of the meeting room, watching in panic as his nightmare came to life. Athazagoraphobia; the fear of being forgotten, ignored, or replaced. And everything had happened. It was like he had frozen in place, unable to breathe, because seeing it all happen had been like he didn't even exist. It was perhaps a little bit of irrational thinking on his part, but even so. The meeting itself seemed to fly by, for all sense of time had left him as he watched from his own personal hell. It had been a miracle that Arthur had remembered, and had found him even when hidden.

Arthur had cracked the surface of his icy lake prison with ease by simply removing the cloak and tossing it aside. The look of pure terror and concern that had then found its way to the man's facial features told Matthew that he had looked just as much a wreck as he felt.

"It wasn't your fault." Matthew sighed, looking away. "I'm a nation, I should have been able to-"

"Stop that." Arthur interrupted. "You forget what I said days ago. Yes, it is true that we are expected to be able to deal with things normal people could not, for we do have the power of a nation on our side. But again, we are still only human." he smiled, and ruffled Matthew's hair, earning himself an annoyed grunt in return. "And humans are allowed to have limits and fears, hopes and dreams. Humans are allowed to have these things. Never try to be just a nation, you'll lose what makes yourself you in the process."

There was something more to what Arthur had just told him, Matthew could tell, but at the moment, he didn't think to ask the man to elaborate.

"And, for whatever its worth, I'll never forget about you again. And, I completely understand if you no longer wish to help me. I was asking too much of you, it was unreasonable, I-"

"Arthur." Matthew sat up straight, finally finding the strength to pull away from the supportive embrace. The Englishman stuttered to a halt, his emerald eyes still shining with concern, and something else...perhaps...regret?

Matthew smiled. "I want to go to Hogwarts."

Arthur stared, dumbstruck, so Matthew continued. "I want to be useful. I want to be able to do something. And you're right; this is something only I can do. And I'll do it. I told you I would, and you should know by now I'm not the type to willingly break a promise."

Matthew laughed a little at Arthur's shell-shocked silence. He stood up, and placed his hand on his hips, determined. "The test did go well today. Good job Kumamuffin," he praised his polar bear, who was still slumbering on the bed. He had had a long day; pretending to be a human wasn't easy for the animal; those darn opposable thumbs. "Besides, it'll be fun to be a little kid again, eh? So it's settled." he pointed at Arthur. "Tomorrow, you will turn me into a kid and get me ready for this magical adventure!"

And then, the sudden confidence broke slightly as a blush coloured the Canadian's face. "I-I mean, p-please, If that's ok..." he stammered, suddenly unsure if Arthur still wanted him for the task after the night's events.

Arthur finally came back to his senses, stood and dusted himself off slightly, before turning to face the nervous nation with a smile of his own; small, thankful, and genuine. "If you still wish to help me, I'm in no position to turn you down." he informed, the smile growing in size as Matthew let out a celebratory whoop of excitement-not overly loud like his brother's, but conveying the same amount of joyous emotion. "Now though, it's two in the morning, we should both probably get some sleep."

Matthew nodded, and, with a new spring in his step, set about getting ready for bed as Arthur bid him goodnight and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

The elder walked down the hall, the smile turning somber, his face contorting with worry and shame. He entered his own bedroom and quietly closed the door, only to slide down against it once inside.

He knew he'd never be able to forget tonight. He would never be able to forget pulling that stupid cloak off of Matthew only to see the boy look so scared, and even worse, translucent. Honestly translucent. He had seen right through him. If Arthur hadn't been exclusively looking for him, he wouldn't have been able to see the lad at all. It was horrifying, and suddenly it all made sense to him now just why Matthew would be so eager to help. Matthew saw this task as a purpose; a reason to be here, a reason to exist.

Arthur cringed, his eyes burning at the realization that perhaps Matthew needed him just as much, if not more, than he needed Matthew. And yet, something else invaded his thoughts as well.

"Look!" A Queen of Spades was suddenly shoved into England's hands. "Always the same thing, no matter how many times I read them."

Romania pulled out two more cards randomly out of the playing deck, and without even looking at them he showed them to England. "See! The reversed Ace of Spades, and the Three of Spades. England I fear for your future."

"Am...I doing the right thing?" he wondered out loud to himself. But it was too late to back out now. He couldn't, wouldn't do that Matthew. Not now. The warning had come too late.

Sighing heavily, he tried to push these morbid thoughts to the back of his mind. Now, all he wanted to do was sleep, and see what the tomorrow would bring.

Notes:

Queen of Spades- A sign of intelligence. It is representative of judgment that is practical, logical, and intellectual. Also, in Cardverse Hetalia, England is the Queen of Spades.

Reversed Ace of Spades- Death

Three of Spades- Loss

AN: I looked these meanings up, but I forgot to jot down from which sites.

Waahh! Maple here! I'm sorry it's been so long! I had started this chapter months ago and it was fighting with me, but I'm finally, FINALLY satisfied with it! Also, I apologize if the meanings of the cards are incorrect. While I did find these meanings from websites, I'm sure there are a lot of different ways they could be read as well.

On another note, since you all enjoyed it last chaptor, I'll share more of my favourite gag-editor notes from Nihon. I freaking love her.

Also, it should be known that I have no intention of bringing shipping into this story at this current time. However Nihon knows my weaknesses for Maple Tea (and all my other ships and hhhhhnnnnggg shipping~), and so slips it into the notes here and there for our amusment.

Nihon's removed scenes (consider these crack outtakes, eh?)

France and England had always had a confusing relationship, and the same could be said for Francis and Arthur. That's because France doesn't approve of Maple Tea. Shame on him. One moment they'd be laughing together, the next they'd be trying to give each other black eyes. I'm hitting you because I care~ -France

...

It had taken a full night for Arthur to figure out how to make Kumajiro look like Mathew, but in the end, he managed. He gave him some glasses and hot-glued a maple leaf to his chest. No one could tell the difference.

...

Matthew sat in Arthur's basement-turned-wizard craft area, dubbed 'The Sanctum'. The room reminded him of a dungeon, but it wasn't at all unpleasant. The air was musty and full of smells he couldn't name. Smells like burnt scones and syrup. They marketed their own fragrance and titled it Maple Tea. Many fangirls were lost that day.

...

Like in England's office, the room was lined with bookshelves; though the tomes in here looked significantly older judging by the outward spines. Most were dark coloured, and many hadn't any titles to be seen. Arthur himself was pouring over an old, somewhat burnt book on his working desk. Meanwhile, Canada was scanning the rows of books, and one tome in particular caught his eye. 'How to Understand Your Canadian Lover, Vol. 3'. He flipped the book open to one of the dog-eared pages, and nearly dropped the book. Stained with bright yellow highlighter in places was the section about Canadian lovers, and numerous maple leaves and cups of tea had been doodled around the section.

...

A fireplace was lit in the back, warming the room with odd flames that seemed to change colours at random, illuminating the strange markings drawn in chalk that littered the stone floors. Wizard rave! Untz untz untz. Canadian money doubles as a glowstick!

...

"It's an old dark magic, and I'm almost positive it's not taught anymore. And for good reason- this kind of power shouldn't be in selfish hands. Dark magic isn't looked at in a good light these days. Most will think you're evil if you so much as show an interest in it." Arthur informed. "The same way people will think you're evil if you enjoy the Twilight novels, though that is a legitimate concern for worry and angry mobs."

...

"It's an old dark magic, and I'm almost positive it's not taught anymore. And for good reason- this kind of power shouldn't be in selfish hands. Dark magic isn't looked at in a good light these days. Most will think you're evil if you so much as show an interest in it." Arthur informed Matthew as he stood up walked over to him, taking his hand gently in his. He got down on one knee, hand still clasped in his own. Matthew blanched at this sudden display, shaking like, well, a leaf. It was a wonder his glasses didn't fall right off his face. "My darling Canada", Arthur declared, "though you have been separated me for years, the scent of maple has never left this old country. Will you do me the honor of rejoining England as…my wife?" A few painful, silent seconds passed between the two, with Matthew looking horrified and Arthur just nervous. Suddenly, Kumajiro piped up, looking at Matthew with innocent eyes. "Who are you?"

Thank you again for reading, reviewing, following, or favouriting. You have no idea how many times, when I hit a road block, I'd go to check on the numbers. I really do enjoy writing this story, however slow I might be, and your support is priceless. ~Maple