"E-eh?" Finland blinked, unsure of how to act. Norway had called them into his room, and they sat there waiting for him when he burst into the room and said it so suddenly that it took him quite some time to process the information. His mind whirled, and feebly, the nation squeezed his husband's hand. His breathing became more and more uneven and his heart began pounding when the weight of the situation finally began dawning on him. "N-nor, what do y-you mean?"

"It means what it means." Norway, as emotionless as ever, sighed and closed his dull blue eyes. Yet, the unsteadiness in the blond's voice stated that he felt more than just dread. "It...Prussia...he was last seen with Hagrid, going out to the Forbidden Forest for detention, then...then..." The nation gulped, as if not daring to continue. His eyes grimly darted to the floor, the slight frown on his lips becoming more and more noticeable. "And when Hagrid finally found the area where Prussia had last been...there was..." He closed his eyes for a brief moment and breathed deeply. "There was blood."

"...B-blood?" Iceland stammered. It wasn't like Iceland to lose his cool - but at this point, it was the least of everyone's problems. He swallowed, and his gaze fell to the ground, his eyebrows furrowed, and his normal troubled expression intensified. Finland clung on to Sweden even tighter and began whimpering, while said Swede held him affectionately, his eyes fluttering close as his mouth twisted into a frown.

"That means none of us are safe." Sweden murmured, narrowing his eyes, his glasses glinting. The rest of the Nordics in the room nodded in agreement.

"This...was shocking when I first heard it." Norway sighed twirling his fingers around his wand. "And I don't think Denmark should know about this."

"E-eh?" Finland tilted his head, concern lacing his voice. "W-why not?"

"He'd freak out." Norway answered simply. "Besides us, Prussia and America were the only friends he had. Losing America was shocking enough, and now losing Prussia would wreck him."

"I remember how he acted when Prussia was being hospitalized." Sweden spoke up for the first time that day, his voice quiet yet deadly. "He wouldn't be so happy to hear that now Prussia is missing too."

"I agree." Iceland nodded, the fear still evident in the way he held himself as he stood. "Let's not tell Denmark until absolutely necessary."

"We shall focus on bringing him and the G8 back." Norway stated. "I don't know if his disappearance has anything to do with the G8's, so let's not come to any conclusions before we get more evidence."

"W-well, The G8 just suddenly...faded into thin air, b-but with Prussia...he left...the blood. I-i don't know." Finland stuttered.

"Personally, I don't think Prussia and the G8 left the same way - where they are right now may be a different story." Iceland narrowed his eyes. "But we have to focus on finding them. Nor, about that book..."

"I've decided that we will take no further action with anything written in this until I've confirmed we can with Scott and Romania." Norway replied coldly, his eyes shifting to the pages that were left open on his desk. "I need to write a letter to them...and I don't trust Iceland's owl to deliver it."

"Doesn't matter, I haven't seen her since yesterday." Iceland shook his head. "And I hope I never will again, she's creepy now that I think about it."

"R-right." Finland stammered. "Should I s-search for evidence with Sweden then?"

"Yes, please investigate. And keep an eye on Denmark, while you're at it. Don't let him find out about it." Norway briskly stepped to his desk and picked up the book, eyeing it before placing it in his bag. "Ice and I will deal with this when we receive a reply from Scotland and Romania."

"What if he asks about Prussia?" Sweden piped up.

"Tell him that Prussia is with me, practicing spells are something, and Denmark couldn't come along because he had to stalk- er, look after Harry Potter." Norway murmured.

"Then it's settled." Iceland nodded. "We'll have to find Prussia and the G8 - and fast." And with that note, Everyone got out to leave, with Iceland holding the door for them as they exited Norway's room.

"By the way, Iceland." Norway called after everyone else had left . Iceland stopped in his tracks and tilted his head, slightly annoyed.

"What?"

"Hagrid found that puffin of yours." The Norwegian whispered so softly that it was almost inaudible. "He had presumably been attacked by whatever attacked Prussia and barely escaped death, and he's in the hospital wing right now, and-"

Something clicked inside Iceland's brain. The strange, uneasy feeling inside Iceland's stomach that had stayed with him since the start of the year was gone, replaced by a cold, harsh realization. That's it. Mr. Puffin. Iceland had completely forgotten about the bird. He knew he was forgetting something, but it never occurred to him that it had been this important. The nation felt like he had been hit by a train. How could he be so stupid?

"Er, brother-"

Before Norway could continue, the boy had already rushed out of the room.

Denmark woke up bright and happy. Christmas was finally coming to a close, which was a bummer, but the term was starting tomorrow, and all the students were going to be back! He would see Hermione again, and he'd get to fool around the Gryffindor common room with more people. He opened his window to breathe in the crisp new air of January, and saw a bird chirping outside to start a beautiful brand new day. Denmark enthusiastically pointed to it and said, "Shut the fuck up, you're going to wake up Gilbird."

He looked over to Prussia's bed. Besides the little ball of fluff and feathers that was Gilbird sleeping on it, it was empty, and the blankets were messy and ruffled, as if the albino had gone out of bed in a hurry. Oh well, Denmark shrugged. Norway had said to him a couple of days ago that the albino was practicing magic with him or something...he couldn't have woken up this early, so he was probably hungry and woke up early to get breakfast first! Speaking of which...he wondered if Prussia liked the Christmas present that he gave to him. Denmark didn't see any bottles anywhere, so the Prussia had probably finished the beer? And the fallen nation didn't even mention it, let alone thank him...Anywho, whether the albino thanked him or not, Denmark was still happy that at least he drank it. Nothing is better than the taste of Danish beer!

The Dane excitedly ran down the stairs to the common room. He passed Harry, who jumped and yelped in surprise and dropped the bag that the boy had sloppily slung over his shoulder. Denmark skidded to a stop in front of him and smiled sheepishly, yapping out apologies. Harry just blinked and his mouth slowly twisted upwards.

"Good morning, Matthias." The boy cut the Dane off before he could apologize any more.

"Oh, good morning." Denmark beamed, before bending down to pick up the contents of the bag that had slipped from Harry'as grasp. The raven muttered a thank you, and the two boys continued to trot down the stairs - albeit slower this time. They spotted a large fluffball of bushy brown hair peak out of the corner, and Denmark grinned from ear to ear. "Hermione!"

The fluffball turned, and indeed, the familiar face of his friend was there, smiling back at him. "Hello, Matthias. Good morning, Harry."

"Hermione!" It was Ron, who poked his sleepy head out the door from his room and smiled, tired. "When did you come here?"

"Just now." Hermione replied as Matthias, unable to suppress his laughter, jumped off a few steps at the end of the staircase and pulled her into a casual hug. Ron shot the blond a disapproving glance, but otherwise said nothing.

"Great! Let's go have some breakfast now! I'm hungry!" And with his arms still slung over Hermione's shoulder, Denmark led the Gryffindors out the Portrait of the Fat Lady and to the Great Hall, telling jokes and making puns the whole way, while Harry and Ron filled Hermione with details of what had been happening lately.

"See? I told you that mirror was dangerous!" Ron rolled his eyes when Harry told him about the dreams he had been having after being separated from the mirror.

"You never said that it was dangerous, you just said that it was 'bad news' and 'fishy'." Harry retorted.

"Doesn't it mean the same fucking thing?" Ron countered while simultaneously swatting Matthias on the back of the head when he attempted to make a pun about sheep. The blond bent over from the shock before crossing his arms and pouting, suddenly becoming quiet. Everyone ignored him.

"Forget that, Harry, how could you get up and walk around school in the middle of the night like that? Shame on you!" Hermione barked, putting her hands on her hips. "You could have died! Or worse, expelled!"

"Get your priorities straight, woman." Ron grumbled, being quite tired of Hermione's shite. Hermione looked offended, her eyes widening and flashing with anger.

"Excuse me, Ron!" Hermione curled her hand into a fist and banged the wall next to her. "That's sexist."

"Good God, Hermione, I didn't mean it like that-"

"We're here, peeps!" Denmark screamed at them, intentionally cutting their conversation short. Hermione huffed and avoided further eye contact with Ron, while said boy gave her a look that said, 'we'll continue this later'. Denmark plastered on a smile and began ushering his three friends into the Great Hall, getting them to their seats and even pushing their chair for them once they sat down. Hermione was too enraged to say anything to the blond, Ron ignored him, and Harry muttered a barely audible half-hearted thank you. Denmark shrugged and went to his own seat, noticing the absence of Prussia. He tilted his head, worry flashing through his heart before he shook his head, chuckling to himself for even thinking about it. Of course the albino was fine! He had probably finished breakfast already, and is wandering around school or something. He always said he liked being alone anyway.

"By the way." Hermione piped up. "Did you all find who Nicolas Flamel is yet?"

Nicolas Flamel? Denmark tilted his head. He had never really paid attention to it, but now that he thought about it, that name sounded familiar...

"Er...no." Harry scratched the back of his head.

"Ugh, would you boys ever do something productive for once?" Hermione complained, earning herself a glare from Ron.

"Excuse me, what was that about being sexist again?"

"Ron, you-"

"Guys, please stop." Denmark, desperate to make them stop arguing, exclaimed and stood up. Hermione and Ron once again frowned and got back to their meal, while Harry sighed. Denmark's smile dropped from his face just a little more, but he kept quiet.

They sat and ate silently, which was very unusual. The silence was broken when Denmark caught sight of a certain sniper and his husband, making their way to the Hufflepuff table. Denmark grinned and waved at them, but his happiness quickly faded when the two only returned forced smiles. They looked quite anxious and disturbed, traumatized, even. Finland didn't even say good morning, and Sweden gave him a curt nod before turning away. Denmark tilted his head. What is up with everyone today? Why are they so upset? A sudden idea crossed Denmark's mind, and slowly his cheerful expression once again returning. If his friends aren't happy, then he'll make them!

"Come on, guys! Let's go outside on our last day of the holiday!" Denmark exclaimed excitedly, only to be turned down by Hermione shaking her head.

"We have to go to the library and do some research."

"Come on, Hermione!" Ron frowned. "It's the last day, let us relax for once."

"You've been relaxing all Christmas break, Ron! Can't you, pfft, I don't know, at least try to make yourself useful?"

"Yooou know what, how about I go outside with Ron and you and Harry do research?" Denmark butted in before his friends could start strangling each other.

"Sounds good to me." Ron turned away hotly, while Hermione did the same. Harry sighed. At this point, he just wanted to give up on finding Nicolas Flamel.

...

The term officially began the next day, and the Gryffindors had gone back to skimming though books between classes. Homework was abundant, and it was increasingly giving Harry a headache, especially now that Quidditch practices had started again. Hermione and Ron had more or less calmed down, and the Weasley Twins, whose wands were still confiscated by the devil Snape, had refrained from exploding things. Harry caught Matthias glancing worriedly at Tino and Berwald ever once in a while, and Emil and Gilbert were nowhere to be seen, so the raven couldn't really blame the blond for being a bit concerned about his friends.

However, what Harry considered the most horrible moment in his long horrible life happened on a particularly wet and muddy day. The Weasley Twins were messing about as usual, pretending to fall off their brooms when Wood screamed at them to stop the horseplay, all the while blurting out that Snape was refereeing. At this, the pitch went quiet.

"It's true." Wood nodded solemnly. "Which is why we'd have to play nice and carefully so he won't have a reason to call us out!"

That in itself was all fine to Harry, but Snape, of all people? Harry shuddered. He was not going to let Snape near him while playing Quidditch. It sounded like a recipe for disaster.

"Don't play." Hermione immediately hissed when he told her the bad news.

"Pretend to be ill." Ron butted in.

"Pretend to break your leg." Hermione countered, a competitive glare in her eyes.

"Really break your leg, and I can totally help with that-" Matthias smiled innocently, but Harry knew that he wasn't joking.

"Look, I'm not going to-"

Just then, there was the sound of the portrait door swinging open, and Neville toppled in, hitting the floor quite hard and Harry couldn't help but wince. He tried to get up, all dazed, but his legs were bound tightly together - the Leg-Locker curse was quite obvious. It was have been a pain for him to get all the way to the common room like that - he had probably hopped all the way and, knowing him, he had no doubt fallen a lot too.

"It was Malfoy." Neville sniffed before anyone could even ask him anything. "He said he had been looking for someone to practice the curse on."

"Report him." Hermione instantly said before muttering a counter-curse for the poor boy. Neville shook his head.

"I don't want any more trouble..."

"You have to stand up to him, Neville!" Matthias yelled, grabbing the boy's shoulder and shaking him. Harry put a hand on the blond's shoulder and gave him a look that said 'stop'.

Ron stood up. "You're worth twelve of Malfoy.

"Malfoy is just an asshole and he deserves to be decapitated with scissors and burn in hell for all eternity and Neville shall shower in his blood." Hermione stated plainly. Harry suddenly felt nauseous.

"Yes, er, what she said, Neville!" Ron was having a hard time trying to find the right words to continue the conversation after Hermione's comment. "That Malfoy is so used to stepping all over people like he's an almighty being, so you need to make that hard for him!"

"Speaking of which, the whole 'almighty being' thing reminds me of Gilbert..." Matthias tapped his chin. "Now that I think of it, Gilbert is like Malfoy but less bitchy about everything."

"Speaking of Gilbert, where is he anyway?"Ron inquired. "I haven't seen him in a while."

"With Lukas, er, practicing his magic, apparently. I haven't seen him in a while either...I kinda miss him, actually."

"Want a chocolate frog, Neville?" Harry decided to ignore the three other Gryffindors and patted the slightly traumatized Neville on the shoulder. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the candy - the last one from the box that Hermione had given him for Chirstmas. He handed it to Neville, who weakly accepted it. "You're in Gryffindor for a reason, Neville."

"T-thanks, Harry. Oh, a-and you can h-have the card, I heard that y-you were collecting them..." He gave the card to Harry before wordlessly trudging up the stairs.

"Oh, hey, it's Dumbledore." Harry's heart jumped when Matthias's voice floated into his ear - and he realized that the blond was behind him and looking over his shoulder. "I haven't gotten him yet."

"Well, he's the first one I got, and..." Harry trailed off after reading the card.

"What?" Matthias tilted his head while Harry slowly turned to look at him, mouth gaping and eyes wide.

"Read this, Matthias."

The blond looked confused, but took the card and squinted. "Albus Dumbledore, currently Headmaster of Hogwarts. Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Professor Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood and his work on alchemy with his partner..." Matthias stopped. "Nicolas Flamel. NICOLAS FLAMEL!"

Now Denmark knew why the name sounded so familiar - the name was written right on the cover of the book that Iceland had found in the library, the one that Nor had right now. The leather-bound one that contained all the spells that worked on nations. Nicolas Flamel! He would have to ask Norway about this - though if the guy knew something, he would have probably told the rest of the Nordics by now...

"W-what?" Ron whipped his head around to face them, a look of utter disbelief written on his face.

"W-we found him!" Harry hopped in his seat excitedly, though he noticed that Matthias didn't seem particularly surprised - or at least not as much as he is.

"Stay here, don't move" Hermione suddenly commanded, and with that, she raced up into the girl's dormitory as hysterically as Matthias on caffeine. The three boys exchanged looks. It wasn't long until she rushed back out, an enormous book in her arms. She set it on the table with a low thump, and immediately began flipping through the pages frantically while shushing anyone who dares question her on her epic quest to find the right page.

"Aha!" The bushy-haired finally exclaimed, holding the book up before setting it back on the table again. "Nicolas Flamel is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone!"

"A what now?" Matthias tilted his head.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, don't any of you read?" Hermione huffed, and passed the book to the boys. Ron muttered something incoherent under his breath and focused his eyes on the page. There was a moment of silence as Harry scanned the page intently while Matthias simply skimmed through it, half-interested.

"I would totally want to turn metal into gold though." The blond piped up once he was done. Ron gave him the 'are-you-kidding-me' face and Hermione just rolled her eyes.

"Forget that, it makes you immortal. Immortal, Matthias, don't you want that?" Ron repeatedly pointed to the paragraph that they read to emphasize his point. A sudden hint of dismay flashed through the electric blue eyes of the Dane, and his happy expression visibly faltered, for a split second, though it was gone just as soon as it came. He smiled - almost bitterly - and let out a soft chuckle.

"Ah...yes, of course." The tone of his voice was a lot more hushed than usual. "Though...wouldn't it be...sad...to see the people around you come and go, but you yourself could never die you all you could do is watch them helplessly?" His eyes began to shift elsewhere and he closed them as if deep in thought, perhaps reliving a painful memory of sorts. Harry couldn't help but feel slightly disturbed by how sensitive the Dane was to such topics.

"Huh, I guess I've never really thought of that..." Hermione began, but trailed off when she realized that Matthias wasn't responding. "Matthias, are you OK?"

His eyes snapped open and he stared at her, and for a split second fear flashed before his eyes, but when he smiled it was all gone, and Harry could no longer read his eyes. "I'm fine, carry on."

"Er, right." Harry awkwardly cleared his throat, and as if none of that ever happened, he continued, "A stone that can turn metal to gold and make an elixir that makes you live forever - of course Snape would want it! And...and the dog was guarding it!"

"And that's why they wanted the stone moved out of Gringotts, there was someone after it, and since Dumbledore and Flamel are friends, Flamel asked Dumbledore to-" Hermione was finally piecing it all together, and she cut herself off, knowing that the boys already understood the rest.

"And no wonder why he wasn't in any books about great modern wizards - he isn't really modern if he is..." Ron checked the book again. "...Six hundred and seventy-five, is he?"

"Well, in immortal years, it's not that long." Matthias shrugged, earning himself a few confused looks. His eyes darted to the floor and he quickly added, "I mean, almost 700 isn't that long compared to, ya know, forever, I mean, it is long for us, but it's not really..." He paused. "Please excuse me, I'm going to bed."

"Wait, Matthias-"

But he had already scurried up the stairs, almost frantically. Harry blinked. The door of the room was quickly shut, and the Dane was gone.

"There's something up with him." Hermione lowered her voice until it was barely a whisper. "You all feel it too, don't you?"

"I know..." Ron paused. "He practices dark magic, doesn't he?"

"I almost forgot about that." Harry shook his head. "We need to be a bit more careful around him, and around all of his friends as well." And Hermione and Ron nodded in agreement.

Up in the bedroom, where Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan were snoring, Denmark had banged his head on the wall multiple times to help calm down his fast beating heart. Shit. They knew something. The faces they gave him, they were suspicious of him. Denmark slumped into his mattress, massaging his temples. Stupid, stupid Denmark. He let his guard down for one minute, and now Harry and Ron and Hermione had known far more about him than they were supposed to.

"Shit." He muttered out loud, catching the attention of Gilbird, who, for some reason, hadn't tagged along with Prussia for his supposed magic training with Norway. The small ball of fluffy feathers had probably sensed his dread, and he hopped on the blond's shoulder, nuzzling his cheek. Denmark chuckled softly.

"You're adorable, Gilbird." Denmark allowed himself to relax and pet the bird for a few seconds, before his mind turned to the pressing matters at hand. Everything was swirling in his mind - the G8, Norway, the book, Flamel, the spells...and yet his current objective was clear - Nor was taking charge of finding the G8, and his instructions were clear - keep Harry safe. He had regain the trust of his friends, no matter what it takes.

...

One day the students found out that Professor Flitwick was out on a short research trip somewhere that wasn't supposed to take more than a few hours but isn't able to return due to some issues with his broom, so Professor Bondevik had filled in his place. Despite the dullness of the tone in his voice, Bondevik actually made the lesson fun. Bondevik had demonstrated the Summoning Charm by pulling Matthias in towards him from across the room. However, something when wrong and Matthias flopped on his head, and the next thing Harry knew, he was witnessing a very pissed Bondevik being kicked on the face by a certain hyperactive Dane, his hair being pulled by a pair of tiny, grabby hands. The entire class laughed, and even Hermione looked up from her book and let out a small snicker. When the Norwegian finally pulled the Dane from his face, for a split second Harry saw the tinge of amusement in his eyes before he flung Matthias way back to his seat; Miraculously, the blond landed perfectly in his chair, unhurt. Bondevik received a round of applause.

Harry stopped laughing when he realized that Bondevik seemed to be distracted with something - and it seems that everyone had noticed it too, because the noises slowly began to die down - but not quite completely - as everyone stared at the professor.

Norway wasn't sure whether or not he should be enjoying this attention, but the sound of footsteps stopping right outside his door made him stop short. He hadn't been paying attention before they stopped, so he had no idea who it was. He eyed the turning doorknob, squinting. From the small crack of the slightly opened door, the nation caught sight of a very familiar red trench coat...

Suddenly, the large wooden door in the corner of the room swung open with such a dangerous amount of speed and force that it slammed into the wall next to it, creating a loud, deafening bang that silenced everyone in the room. Harry peered at the door as an unfamiliar head with strawberry blond hair poked in, blinking. His unnaturally red eyes and pale skin reminded Harry of a certain Prussian that he hadn't seen since...forever. The unknown man stepped forward revealing red muggle clothes with a matching hat, and everyone stared curiously as he grinned widely, showing sharp...fangs that glistened in the light. He was looking straight at Lukas when he opened his mouth to speak.

"Nor! Buddy!" The man yelled excitedly to the Professor, who looked slightly bewildered. "Long time no see! I got your letter, I came here to visit you!" The man ran up to Bondevik with his arms outstretched, ready for a hug, but before he could even tough the professor he was promptly rejected by a rather brutal punch in the face. The man spun and stumbled backwards, hiding his face in his hands, a small yet noticeable trickle of blood traveled down his chin. Harry winced, and all the Gryffindors in the class let out a gasp while the Slytherins remained quiet.

"I'm in the middle of class." Bondevik simply stated, like a robot, before marching up to the strange man and roughly grabbing him by the ear and literally dragging him to the door.

"Ow! Nor! That hurts!" The man cried, his red muggle trench clothes flapping as he flung his arms around widely. "Noooorrr!"

Bondevik stopped right outside the door, where Harry caught a glimpes of another person - a man with red hair and blue muggle clothes, smoking a cigarette - he looked annoyed and uninterested by the fact that the person Harry assumed was his friend was bleeding. "I'll be back, don't break anything, don't stab anyone with your ballpoint pens." Bondevik pointed to the stunned students sitting in the classroom before pulling the strawberry blond man out the door. Harry's eyes briefly met with the narrowed green ones of the red-haired man before he shut the door close. There was an awkward silence for a moment before chatter broke out between the students - all of them were intrigued by the sudden interruption of this man who was almost murdered by the assistant professor.

"I wonder why he calls him Nor?" Ron wondered out loud, tapping his hand on the desk.

"Oh, I remember Matthias mentioning that they call their friends by the country they came from as nicknames..." Hermione, who was only half-paying attention, murmured under her breath, twiddling with the quill in her hands. "So Nor is probably short for Norway." After that statement, Ron raised an eyebrow and Harry shrugged.

"Heh. So Nor is like, the nickname of a nickname." Harry chuckled to himself, and jumped when he heard Ron snicker.

When outside the room, Norway turned to look at Scotland square in the eye. "You've interrupted my class."

"I tried to stop him." Scotland nonchalantly shrugged. "And I came to ask about...that thing you asked me about in the letter you sent me yesterday."

"Ugh, look, I need to finish this class - this is the last one of the day that I am aware of, so please, wait a bit. It's almost time for it to end anyway." Norway sighed.

"Well, it better be quick, time is running, and I've only barely been able to fit this visit in my schedule today, now that I have to do all the work that my brother did." Scotland sighed. Noway nodded, and with that, he whirled around and trudged back into the classroom.

"Sorry about that, class." Bondevik cleared his throat once he came inside again. "We may continue."

Harry found himself a little distracted for the rest of the lesson. There was something about that man that he caught sight of before the door was closed - the one with red hair and blue muggle clothing which design looked like the flag of Scotland. There was something unsettling about him, and Harry could feel it. He carried the same strange aura that Bondevik and Matthias and Gilbert and their Hufflepuffs friends had, but the redheaded man seemed...different. Matthias and his friends seemed off, like somehow they didn't belong here, but the man...Harry felt strangely...connected to him, like there was an invisible thread that pulled the raven towards him.

"Harry."

The boy snapped his head up to see Bondevik looking straight at him. "Y-yes?"

"Answer my question." The professor sighed. "And please pay attention in class."

"Y-yes sir." Hary felt those strange dull eyes bore into him. Bondevik's eyes were just another thing that was unusual about him. It was as if the dullnues hid something, something that no-one should be seeing but Harry found himself desperately searching for what was underneath the wall that the professor had built around himself.

"Harry, please stop staring at me." Harry blinked, realizing that he had yet again floated off in his own thoughts. He forced himself to push these thoughts out of his head and tried his hardest to concentrate on the rest of the lesson.

Classes were finally over, after what seemed like an eternity of waiting. Outside in the halls, Romania was having a jolly good time trying to get Norway to not tear his ear off. The vampire yelped in pain with every few steps that the Norwegian took, and all he could do was walk along if he didn't want to get hurt more than he already has. It didn't help that his nose was still bleeding, but at this point this was the least of his worries, and he had to focus on the searing pain on the lobe of his right ear.

"N-nor! Where are you taking me-" Romania's eyes traveled to Scotland, who was trotting behind him just a few steps away. "-us?"

"Shut up." Norway growled, yanking Romania forwards more fiercely than he already was, and Romania screamed - but everyone was in class, so no-one was there to witness his cruel torture. And ever so quietly, he whispered, "somewhere that allows us to talk without being heard." He paused, and in his usual emotionless voice, "Dumbass."

Romania sniffed. "Can you at least let go of me?" The fingers slowly loosened its grasp on the poor vampire's ear, and he promptly pulled back to walk beside Scotland before the Nordic country could change his mind. Romania frowned and rubbed his sore ear.

"Alright. This is my room." Norway swiftly stepped to the door, his overly long cloak swooshing and dragging on the floor behind him. After muttering a spell under his breath, there was a soft click from the door. Opening the large wooden structure, Norway motioned for them to get inside, and Scotland did, with Romania close behind. Norway then shut the door and locked it back instantly.

"Wow." Romania muttered as he plopped down on Norway's bed, adverting his gaze around the room to quickly study it. "The mattress is squeaky, but definitely bouncy. Moldova would love this..."

"Romania, stay away from my bed, I don't want blood on it." Norway murmured coldly. Romania sniffed again and reluctantly got up, spotting a box of tissues on the desk in the corner. Also on the desk were Norway's computer and some chargers and cables. No doubt these were sneaked in.

"Now that we're going to start a meeting, you might as well turn off your phone." Scotland advised, pulling out his smartphone as Norway pulled out the cross from his hair and pressed a button to turn it off. Romania himself didn't have his phone on him so he took this moment to amuse himself by looking at how unkempt Norway's hair had become without his cross.

"Now to business." Scotland sat down on one of the chairs in Norway's room, and motioned for said nation to sit down too - but when Romania tried to take a seat, the redhead gestured for the vampire to stand. The blond huffed and leaned on the door with his arms crossed.

"Right." Norway leafed through some parchment in his bag before pulling out a small leather-bound book - though the leather cover seemed to be too big for it. He handed the book to Scotland, who took it with a raised eyebrow.

"A lot of pages are missing." Norway explained as Scotland examined the front cover. "All of the introduction seemed to be intact, but most of the pages with actual spells are missing, chard and burnt."

"Nations. A straightforward title." Scotland observed, but when his eyes traveled to the bottom of the cover, they widened. "A study by...Nicolas Flamel?"

"I don't know who that is. I haven't caught up with studying about English wizards." Norway shook his head. "But judging by the introduction, he knows a lot of things about us."

"But of course!" Scotland's cigar dropped out of his mouth as he bent over and held the book closer to his face, reading the words on the cover over and over again as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Flamel - he made the Philosopher's Stone - an object powerful enough that it can grant a person immortality!"

"Is that so?" Norway hummed, leaning in, a slightly interested look painted on his otherwise stoic expression.

"Yes! And he probably started realizing that us nations were also immortal even without drinking the Elixir, and had studied about us and wrote all his studies into this!" Scotland turned it around in his hand and briefly flipped through the book without reading it. "Y-yes, it looks like a journal of some sort!"

"Wow. Romania whistled, not knowing what Scotland was talking about.

"Ah." Norway suddenly perked up, seemingly been able to piece all the puzzle pieces together. "Perhaps...perhaps England had burnt it, or tried to, to keep other normal people from knowing of it. Somehow a few pages had survived."

"Because even acknowledging our existence is dangerous!" Scotland began to look anxious. "A-and anyone else could have read it before you did."

"There was a very thick layer of dust on it and I believe that no-one had touched it for a while." Norway murmured. "And the last person who had touched it was either Flamel himself, or someone who is currently dead."

"Why didn't I know of this?" Scotland growled to himself, seemingly ignoring everything that Norway had previously said. "England, that damn brat...he never told me..."

"Why don't you open it?" Romania called at the two from across the small room, curious about what lied within the pages.

Scotland took a breath. "Fine."

...

The Quidditch match was coming up, and ever since Harry had decided to join, (the idea of breaking his foot so he had an excuse to not play was much too horrifying) he and the team had been training as hard as ever. No-one knew if they would win or not - winning would be wonderful, of course, but can they do so with Snape as referee? This time they were going up against the Hufflepuffs, and even though Hufflepuffs aren't Slytherins, Snape would find every single way he can to pick on them - not that he hadn't already done so since the beginning of the year. Fred and George had kept their little...invention in their pockets, "just in case". Wood wasn't quite fond of the idea of magic fireworks exploding in his face during a Quidditch match, but at this point he had given up on stopping the twins from doing things.

Another thing that bothered Harry was the fact that Snape was everywhere he went. It was almost as if the professor was following him...but Matthias had been on guard and was able to sniff every corner and predict where the guy was just from his footsteps. Matthias began to cling on to Harry, never leaving his side, and it felt like every single time Snape saw Harry with the blond he became more and more irritated. It was almost as if the professor was trying to get the raven when he was alone...

And then there was Matthias. Harry caught the boy staring at him from time to time, as if observing his every move. Whenever Harry felt the strange tingle down his spine he knew that someone was staring at him and in most cases it was the Dane. Matthias tried to hide it, but it was becoming more and more obvious that it seemed that he, too, was stalking Harry. Harry soon realized that there was a possibility that Matthias was trying to figure out the best way to kill him using dark magic. That thought certainly didn't calm him down, and the raven began trying to avoid Matthias - yet it was impossible, because he followed Harry everywhere.

Finally, the day of the match has arrived, and Harry was as anxious as ever. He knew that the second he entered the changing room, there was no turning back, and no guarantee that he will return to Ron and Hermione alive. Wood had given the team some pep talk, but that didn't exactly comfort him since he barely payed attention to it. Instead, he was thinking about what people would say if he used a rope and tied himself to his Nimbus Two Thousand...

Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione had picked their seats at the stands, next to Neville. Matthias had decided to sit somewhere else, so he could 'look at Harry from another angle just in case he decides to fall again'...Ron could still see the blond's face though, poking out from the crowds on the opposite sides of the stand, staring intently at the Gryffindor players that were mounting their brooms. Even though he looked fairly similar to everyone else, Matthias's face somehow stood out and it was quite easy to spot him. It wasn't a particularly bad thing, since Hermione had told him to keep an eye on their Danish friend for any suspicious activity. They hadn't confirmed the whole 'dark wizards' thing yet but Ron had grown quite wary, and Hermione had pointed out that it would be better for Matthias to sit with them so it would be easier to look at him and make sure he doesn't try anything...but Ron was quite fine with him being far away because the vibes he got from the blond was getting more disturbing as time passes.

"And remember, it's Locomotor Mortis." Hermione whispered. Ron rolled his eyes and muttered a 'yes', too tired to argue. It's the Leg-Locker curse - after the whole incident with Neville, Ron and Hermione had gotten the idea to use it (specifically on Snape) just in case something happens.

"Huh? What are you guys talking about?" Neville, who was sitting beside Hermione, inched closer to join in their conversation. His eyes traveled to the wand that Ron was slipping up his sleeve. "You brought your wands? Why?"

Ron chuckled nervously. "No reason, I just found it comforting to have it with me at all times." He shrugged. "I thought everyone did that?"

"Huh, now that I think about it..." Neville scratched his head. "I should start doing that too, just in case Malfoy...er, I-i mean, I probably won't use it, b-but..."

"Yeah, consider carrying your wand with you everywhere you go." Hermione patted the boy's back. "Now all of you shush, I'm watching Harry. Oh, and Snape too."

"Huh." Ron mumbled, squinting. "Snape looks kinda...angry? Pissed? Murderous?"

"It's probably because of Dumbledore...he couldn't try anything now that the Headmaster is watching." Hermione had a small smirk on her face.

"Oh, hi Ron. Hi Hermione."

Hermione jumped and Ron almost dropped his wand. Tino, who was suddenly standing next to Ron, smiled back at him. Berwald was beside him, holding his hand as if they were a couple.

"O-oh, when did you get here?" Ron let out a shaky laugh as Tino took the seat next to him.

"Um...just now?" He tilted his head, and Ron swore he saw Berwald blush.

"Harry almost got him by a Bludger." Hermione spoke up, ignoring every conversation that didn't have the words 'Harry' or 'Quidditch' in it. Ron shot a quick apologetic glance at Tino and Berwald before turning his attention to Harry, and-

"Ow!" Ron hissed, feeling a small, sharp pain on the back of his head. Someone had poked him, hard. He furiously turned around to face none other than Malfoy and his 'friends'. Is no one going to bother questioning how he got friends?

"Oh, sorry, Weasly, didn't see you there." He sneered, then turned to Hermione and Neville. "Anyone want to bet how long Harry will stay on his broom this time?"

No-one answered him - George Weasley hit a Bludger at him so he gave Hufflepuff a penalty. Tino was silently fuming, Berwald glared at Malfoy, and Hermione didn't give a damn and was staring at Harry without blinking. It was almost creepy. After a few minutes, when Snape rewarded the Hufflepuffs with a penalty again for no reason, Malfoy spoke again.

"You know how they chose people for the Gryffindor team? They choose people who they feel sorry for. Potter's got no parents. The Weasleys' got no money." He smirked at Neville. "And you should join it too, Longbottom, you have no brains."

"And you have no friends." Berwald stated, not looking away from the Quidditch match. Malfoy eyed him, outraged.

"Excuse me, a Hufflepuff like you shouldn't-"

"Being in Hufflepuff just means that people like us more than they like you." The blond shrugged, his glasses glinting in the sunlight. Ron had to keep himself from bursting into laughter.

"Why you-"

"Y-yeah, Malfoy! I'm worth twelve of you!" Neville awkwardly stammered, and it was Malfoy who began chortling.

"Oh, is that so?" The blond's smile was evil. "If brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley!"

Neville wasn't about to step down. He took a deep breath, and stuttered, "Y-you're a puss-spewing f-festering boil on a prolapsed d-dog anus!"

Malfoy was taken aback by the comment, and he took a step back, shocked. His mouth was moving but he wasn't sputtering out nonsense, or anything at all, for that matter. Ron gave Neville a broad grin, and the boy weakly twisted his lips up in return, but he looked relieved. Tino giggled before suddenly roaring with hysterical laughter.

"Guys, guys!" Hermione screamed, frantically waving one hand in front of Ron's face and pointing to the sky with the other. It was Harry - he had gone into a spectacular dive, escalating quicker and quicker to the ground below, wind blowing through his hair, messing it up, his glasses barely staying on his face. Hermione jumped from her seat and began cheering as Harry shot down like a bullet.

"Oh, look, Weasley!" Malfoy jeered. "Harry just spotted some money on the ground!"

Ron had had enough. Before anyone could react, he had launched himself onto Malfoy, wrestling him to the ground, punching, clawing, even biting. Malfoy shrieked and began pushing, trying to push him off. The struggle went on, with Neville watching in awe, rigid with fear. After a few seconds, Neville snapped out of it and let out an inhuman wail that was very...un-Neville-like, and began savagely attacking Crabbe and Goyle. Ron caught a glimpse of Tino's eyes flashing with fury before he, too, stood up from his seat.

There was a moment of silence from both Ron and Malfoy when the small cinnamon roll of a boy pulled out a gun from nowhere.

Just at that moment, Harry had swooped down gracefully and pulled himself back up, a small glittering gold ball in his hands. The crowd's cheering masked the booming of gunshots and Malfoy's twisted screams that rang in Ron's ears.

...

"He did what?"

Ron nodded feebly, gulping. "H-he's with Dumbledore right now, and Malfoy is in the hospital wing, a-and I'm sure Madam Pomfrey c-could do something about it..." He trailed off, uncertain.

"My God." Denmark murmured. Seriously, Finland materialized his guns and began shooting someone? Not only will that get him potentially expelled, it might also draw other suspicions towards their group as well! Denmark began massaging his forehead, trying to clear his thoughts. God, what was he doing to do about this? The Dane tried to force a smile that wasn't as reassuring as it was supposed to be.

"W-well, at lease you and Neville are fine, right?"

Ron, who looked like he didn't want to continue further, pretended to smile and nodded as well. Hermione just sighed. "Look on the bright side! We won!"

It was just then that the three spotted Harry emerge from the corner of the hallway, a bit shaken. Hermione immediately ran up to him and pulled the boy into a tight embrace. "Where have you been?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer but Ron cut him off. "We won, Harry! And Neville tried to take on Crabbe and Goyle single-handed and I gave Malfoy a black eye and now Malfoy is in the Hospital Wing with a bullet in his stomach-"

"What?" exclaimed, shocked and slightly disturbed. Ron gave him the 'we'll take about this later' look. Harry gulped and nodded.

"N-never mind that now, wait 'til you hear this." He began pacing the halls, with Ron and Hermione and Matthias following, confused, until he found an empty room. His eyes darted around as if making sure that no-one was around them before he pulled them in and shut the door.

"What is it?" Matthias tilted his head.

"I-i saw Quirrell..." Harry mumbled. "He was in the Forbidden Forest, with Snape...Snape mentioned the Philosopher's Stone and asked how to get pass Fluffy..." There was a gasp from Hermione. Harry inhaled and continued, "A-and Snape told Quirrell that he wouldn't want him as an enemy, a-and he said something about where Quirrell's loyalty lies..." Harry paused. "That's all I remember."

"So we were right!" Hermione whisper-shouted. "Snape is after the Stone, and Quirrell has to stand up to him in order to secure it!"

"The stone would be gone by next week." Ron muttered.

It was dark. Prussia didn't know where he was, but all he could see was complete blackness. Maybe it was just his vision being bad, he didn't know. All he knew that he was sitting in a strange and painful posture, and he wanted to get up so, so bad. The fallen nation's head was throbbing since the second he regained consciousness, and holy hell, the back of his neck burned, as if someone had set it on fire and stomped on him. On top of that, his muscles ached like crazy, and his limbs were stiff after being in an uncomfortable position for so long. Trying to ignore the pain that seared through his neck and the pounding in his brain, Prussia shifted around, trying to get the feeling back into his legs.

It then occurred to him that it was next to impossible to move. His incinerated neck still worked perfectly fine, as he found out after twisting it slightly, but harsh sting was too much to bare so it wasn't really worth it to move. His arms and legs were frozen, and he felt an invisible force binding them, but he was sure there was no rope. Prussia clenched his teeth and tried to move again - it didn't work. He tried again, and again, and again, until his body was thrashing around madly, and yet his arms and legs didn't move. His neck was sore, and he was driven to the brink of insanity, ready to give up.

It was not until Prussia heard distant voices that he realized that he didn't know where he was. Squinting, the dissolved nation scanned the area - he could see very faint outlines of walls and a door - the room was as small and cramped, and it was hard to breath - but he wasn't claustrophobic, so it wasn't that bad, he supposed. Other than that, he couldn't make out anything with his limited blurry vision. A sudden chill ran down his spine when he heard the same voices again, but they were clearer this time. He strained his ears to try to catch what they were saying, and to his horror, it was Professor Quirrell's voice. It seemed that the man was talking to someone else, with a deep, booming, sinister voice that, frankly, scared Prussia, as much as he didn't want to admit it.

"And the bird?" The unfamiliar voice asked - but it was more like a growl. Prussia felt a sudden chill down his spine. Bird? Are they referring to...to...Gilbird?

"Ah, yes. She was on spying duty, as usual, following the German kid." Quirrell's voice responded. He wasn't sputtering like he usually did, and spoke with quite confidence. "She was caught by the damn puffin, who threatened to tell the boy, Emil, was it-"

Prussia went rigid. Emil. Iceland was in trouble. It's not Gilbird, but Iceland was still definitely someone important. The albino shook his head and kept listening. The voices were coming closer, so it didn't take as much effort to hear.

"And then she made quick work of the puffin. And yet she couldn't manage to kill a single small boy." Finished Quirrell, sounding quite annoyed.

There was a moment of eerie silence before the second voice spoke again. "Quirrell, I never told you about that boy, did I?"

"Erm, no, my lord..." Quirrell sounded puzzled. "All you did was tell me to kidnap him, but you never told me why, sir. What about him?"

"That boy." The unfamiliar voice whispered so quietly that it was almost inaudible, even to Prussia. "He is the key to our goal, Quirrell."

"What do you mean?" Quirrell's voice asked as it crept closer still. Prussia found himself holding his breath. "I thought the Mirror of Erised was the key?"

"That may be true, but this boy must know how all this works and how the Mirror can help."

"How?" Professor Quirrel questioned. Prussia, too, was rigid from a strange mixture of overflowing curiosity and panic. The nation had no idea what they were talking about - what mirror? What goal?

"He is immortal." The voice rasped. "Didn't you hear the ghosts' conversations at all, you dumb twat?"

Prussia knew that Professor Quirrel and whoever it was was right outside the door. There was a slight creak as the doorknob was turned and the large wooden structure parted from its frame, a sliver of light shone through the gaps before the door was flung open completely. Blinding light pierced through Prussia's crimson eyes and he hissed, shutting them tight. A tall, then figure blocked part of the light from him, casting large, unnerving shadow over the albino. Prussia opened his eyes just a little for a peak, and Professor Quirrell's pale face appeared before him. There was hate in the eyes that bore into the nation's and his mouth was curled into an ugly smile that didn't match with the feeble Quirrel that Prussia thought he knew.

"Immortal, my lord?" The professor's chuckle was twisted and vile, and the fallen nation could do nothing but stare frightfully. "Is this why you want me to capture him?"

"Of course, Quirrell. The paintings have confirmed that they had seen him before, many centuries ago. Isn't that right, Gilbert?" The voice snarled, and Prussia let out a terrified squeak and shrunk down to the floor. The dissolved nation couldn't quite figure out who that voice belong to - and he couldn't see anyone behind Quirrell despite the murmurs coming from there. He gulped, took a deep breath, and furrowed his eyebrows, forcing himself to look threatening - or at least not scared, but his heart was pounding.

"I-i do not know what you are talking about." The albino tried to sound confident, but there was still a stutter. He stared right into the Professor's eyes - and almost spat in disgust. He saw nothing but spite.

"Don't lie." The unfamiliar sharp voice snapped, and every single shred of confidence was instantly drained from the albino. Professor Quirrell smirked at the boy's reaction, and soon his malicious cackle began filling the air.

"Tell me, how did you get the Philosopher's Stone?"

Prussia blinked. He tried to rack his brain for anything related to this...stone, but he knew nothing of it. He inhaled and puffed out his chest, trying to calm down his nerves. It didn't work, and he could feel the tremor in his body. "I d-don't know w-what you're talking about."

"Mm." The voice murmured. "Quirrell, have you sound-proofed the room?"

"Erm...yes, my lord."

"Then...Quirrell, as you please."

The Professor nodded, and slowly he pointed a long, twisted piece of wood to Prussia's chest. The fallen nation's heart began rattling madly, his eyes widened before he shut them tight, embracing himself for whatever the man was going to do to him. And calmly, and ever so softly, the man whispered,

"Adava kedavra."

There was a slight sizzling sound, and the next thing Prussia knew he was struck in the chest with an unbearable, immense pain. He immediately screamed out of instinct, a long, terror-stricken scream of agony until it felt like his vocal chords would shatter. It felt like being stabbed a million times with a knife, and his hard, stinging pain flared from his chest to the rest of his body. Lights flashed before his eyes, and it felt like his entire brain was having a spasm in his skull. And then more force was put into the spell, and he screeched louder still, tears beginning to sting his eyes as he tried to fight off the insufferable pain. His heart felt torn to a million pieces, and so was his body, and everything else. The world melted right in front of his eyes, and his entire body felt like it was being crushed to pieces and stepped on and burned alive. It was simply too much.

When it finally stopped, the nation was horrendously close to unconsciousness. He was overcome with a relieving numbness that didn't quite spread far enough to reach his brain and his fluttering heart. His panted, feeling the scorch in his lungs every time he inhaled. And again, the tears found themselves escaping from his eyes, sliding down his smoldered cheek before dripping of his chin. When the nation opened his mouth for a gasp of oxygen, the chilly air outside collided with his throat which resulted in a violent coughing fit. And, with a dry throat, Prussia closed his eyes, his chest heaving as he lay there helplessly. He felt himself slipping away, slowly...

There was a snicker, and it forced Prussia awake. "Now tell me," It was Professor Quirrell, his voice barely a whisper. "How did you get the Philospher's Stone?"

Prussia coughed once more. "I-I keep t-t-telling you, I d-don't know!"

"Very well." Prussia heard the swoosh of a cloak, indicating that the man had lifted his wand up once again. "Adava kedavra."

A/N: Don't you just love torturing your favourite characters?

Please don't kill me