Chapter Text
Chapter 1
August 16th 1993
It was a peaceful quiet day, a day off from all the chaos of being a personification. No America in his ear yelling about how he was ‘the hero of the world’, or France attempting to molest him every 2 minutes. Just a nice quiet day with a cup of tea and scones on the side.
No Russia and America having a dick measuring competition, yelling and arguing about the past. Not even a sound from Yao, complaining about these ‘stupid Europeans’. All it was was a perfect summer day, warm tea in his cup and a scone with cream and jam on a small plate. The way the warm hue of sunlight over-flowed through the windows and made everything a beautiful golden brown colour, it was ethereal.
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BANG
The sudden loud noise made Aurthur jump out of his seat, his tea that was centimetres from his lips spilling and splashing onto his perfectly made scone and his pristine pajama pants. The warm tea soaking into his clothes made them soggy and hug his skin, the excess water that didn't have time to soak into the fleece sliding off onto the wooden floor making a splash as he stood up.
‘What in the bloody hell was that?!’ As the Brit creeped closer to the window, his soiled pants gave off a slight slushy sound with movement. The closer to the window he got the less he could see with the sun blinding him, but he could hear something…squawking?
After opening the window enough to poke his upper body out, a flurry of red and orange feathers rushed in. Before Arthur would properly process what was going on he heard a louder squawk. Behind him on the backrest of his chair, there sat a beautiful phoenix, red and orange feathers dispersed across its body with an occasional blue or purple feather peeking through the mess of warmth.
His eyes finally being pulled away from the Phoenix's looks, he only then noticed the rather obvious envelope in its mouth. A Hogwarts wax stamp sealed it shut, the envelope was slightly bent and damp from being in the mouth of a bird the entire trip.
Taking a small knife from his cream, licking it clean while grabbing the letter from the bird's beak. By pinching the envelope opposite to each other he was able to wedge the knife along the side of it. Cutting and tearing the paper across the height, finally having enough space to fit his fingers through and pull the letter out.
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Sir, Arthur Kirkland
Mr.Kirkland I hope this letter finds you in good health,
I wish that this letter was like our many others discussing magic and the inner-workings of it. Yet I find myself coming to you for help, as you may be aware recently Sirius black has escaped from Azkaban and is believed to be in accordance with the Dark Lord. All this is all very worrying, especially so with Mr. Potter attending the school. With these external threats I have been called to action, so where do you come into this? I would like to offer you the position of 'History of Magic teacher’. The current teacher deserves a break after teaching for this long, and it would be a good way to protect the students of Hogwarts. Of course you are inclined to decline my offer, but I am not asking you as a friend or headmaster–but as a worried citizen of the United Kingdom.
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Way to wake a man up, having a large bird come banging on his window at the ass crack of dawn, then drop news that the Dark Lord is coming back at the same time as a mass murderer breaking out of prison and is now on the hunt for the boy who lived. What a joke.. Though I suppose being a history of magic teacher doesn't sound too harsh.. And it is for the betterment of his country..
Arthur was never really the best at impulse control.
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“So you see Mum, this is a threat to the entire country. If I was there I would be able to protect my citizens! “ Arthur said desperately.
The first thing he did after sending a letter accepting the position was beg his Mu–Her Majesty the Queen. If she decides that he wasn't allowed to go on this mission..Well then he’ll get a new plan, but he knows that he must do this.
“Arthur, look at me, I understand your need to look after your citizens and ensure their safety. So for this reason I will allow you to teach at that school for as long as it takes. See this as a thank you for your prior help in fighting during WW2.” Her Majesty's eyes always did look lovely in the sunlight, the blue of her irises caught the sun just right, that mixed with the soft smile on her wrinkly face radiated love.
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The world conference was.. Loud? To say the least. Just like every meeting Russia was intimidating everyone. Which then led America to start fighting with the man, it was bearable until France started to whisper in England's ear about how ‘those two must have amazing sex!’.
Arthur punched Francis in the face.
From there the world conference just descended into a brawl. Russia and America started to throw chairs at each other, a struggling Lithuania and.. A second America? had to hold them back. Who was that second America? It wasn't like Arthur and Francis were much better, as they were fighting like two drunk uncles at a pub, punching and kicking each other.
Poor Germany spent the entire time yelling at centuries old countries to stop fighting while Italy cowered behind him. His throat was red and raw after the meeting.
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After the meeting Arthur made sure to inform Germany of his departure, the country did not exactly seem pleased to hear he was abandoning his work to go play teacher–though it was safe to say that after explaining how ‘Hey so there's this really evil fascist guy in my country trying to kill everyone that isn't a certain demographic’. Clearly by the guilty look on the Germans face he would be willing to sweep this little hiccup under the rug.
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The day Aurthur decided to make his commute to Diagon Alley was August 25th 1993, a mild summer's day that hovered around 20°. Hundreds of people littered the street as he walked along the pathway leading him to charing cross rd, the home of the leaky cauldron.
The pub was an excellent muggle deterrent, I mean just look at the place! Old and run down on the outside, the type of place people look at and avoid or just straight up wonder how they manage to stay open!
Now on the inside of the pub.. It was really something, the place was filled to the brim with patrons drinking and discussing the news of someone escaping Azkaban. Despite it all, the majority of the patrons managed to keep optimistic about the situation and decided to drink away the worry.
His own shoes clicking on the floor was near impossible to hear over the chatter of the pub.
“Hello, I have a reservation under the name Arthur, it's just a room for one” The blonde man said loudly, trying to fight with the sound of the tables around him.
“Tom, it's a pleasure to meet you in the barkeep at the leaky cauldron.” The fat man said introducing himself, reaching out a hand.
“Could I get your last name? We have quite a few of Arthur's staying with us at the moment.”
“Firstname: arthur, lastname: kirkland” He said, going to shake the man's hand, but before he could, Tom's eyes widened like a cartoon. His now outstretched hand turned into an accusatory finger.
“Wait as in Arthur Kirkland of the Kirkland clan?!” Tom whisper-yelled shock filling his voice
“Ah-ha well yes, though my family typically doesn't like to bask in the spotlight, we do exist.” Arthur said uncomfortably, his bushy eyebrows scrunching together. He had forgotten just how famous his family was. The oldest living pureblood family in the UK, the Kirkland clan was infamous for funding wars on both sides of the wizarding factions. From this the Kirkland clan is known for their wealth as well.
Due to the fact that they funded both sides of wars they were the main benefactors, it also meant through said funds they could afford to determine the outcome and who had a bigger advantage. During the early 16th century the Kirkland family disappeared from wizarding society. It was a dark part of his history, something that will never be forgotten but will always work towards apologising and undoing the consequences as much as possible.
After the 16th century the Kirkland family’s only public connection to wizarding society was to open the vault, wand repairs and the occasional mention in wizard politics and bloodwars. Safe to say most people feared and envied the Kirkland family.
Almost sensing the discomfort for the blond man Tom spoke again “Sorry mate its just that its not everyday you meet someone from the Kirkland family” The man said sympathetically, he knew it must be shameful considering what their family was known for.
“It's alright”... After Arthur made that comment the air became heavy and awkward, clearly even other patrons started to feel it considering the man to the right of him started to shift away.
“Well your room is ready, would you like me to bring your bags up for you?”
“Glad to hear it, and no thank you I can manage. Thank you for the room though” Arthur looked at the man with sympathy, he clearly un-tensed when he heard that he didn't need to spend more time in this awkward situation.
“You're very welcome, your room is NO.203. If you just head up to the second floor your room will be the first one to the right.”
Wordlessly Arthur took the keys to the room and left.
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Well the room was certainly.. a room, a single bed in the corner with a single table in the middle of the room. But no chairs, because a 1mx1m table is ok but not a single chair. With his suitcase still at the door, he went to lay down just a quick 20 minute nap and wake up refreshed.
Walking to the other side of the room Arthur plopped himself down onto the bed, but instead of normal beds the cushioning makes sure you don't break your back. He went straight through the mattress.
“BLOODY HELL!” The now injured man screamed, arching his back to try and relieve the pain of just having jumped on a slab of wood. That blasted mattress did nothing to cushion his fall. After writhing in pain for a bit he finally found the will to get up, still grumpy about the bed he grumbled something about,
“Blasterd beds remind me of the middle ages.” the straw beds that would offer no comfort, just potato sacks filled with straw and whatever they could get their hands on. At least the blanket was nice, pure cotton was hard to find nowadays typically blankets were made of polyesters and other synthetic materials.
That was besides the point, he had quite the list of things to buy before the start of the year. First off a new wand, in the new era you certainly wouldn’t catch a wizard dead using a wand with a gigantic star on the top.
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“Hello,” Arthur calmly said, stealing the goblin’s attention “excuse me but i would like to take some money out.” The blonde man said, raising his hand and waving slightly.
“Vault number”
“Vault 0”
“Vault 0?” The goblin he was talking to turned to the side leaning in close to whisper in the other ear.
“Do we even have a vault 0?” whispered the goblin in front of Arthur. After questioning the goblin next to it, its face went wide with shock.
“Yes but,” the goblin said while eyeing the blonde man “it belongs to the Kirkland clan, and that vault hasn't been opened in nearly 200 years!” The goblin ended with.
As it looked at Arthur closer, eyeing him up and down dressed head to toe in muggle clothes, nothing remotely magical in sight.
“I doubt you of all people have the key for the kirkland vault,” It finally ended condescending, its wrinkled face holding disdain.
Arthur though was not affected by the goblins cruelness and unprofessional attitude. “If you knew a single thing about the kirkland vault,” The man continued, his voice growing stronger with each word. ”You would know that its locked by magic not just a key alone,” He added while gently sliding a heavy worn gold key out from his pocket. “Besides I do have the key.” He ended with, in a swift fluid motion he slid it into the goblins wrinkly green hand.
With that the goblin made quick work of checking and authenticating the key, flipping it over and checking inscriptions.
“Oh wow,” the voice held pure awe. “I’d never thought I would’ve held a key this old, it seems to be real. Listen kid” Its voice hardened leaning over the barrier to get closer “I don't know how you got this but you Mustn’t let a soul find out how you got it, or that you even have it,” The look on its face was discomfort, the goblin clearly nervous whispering “Im sure you’re aware of the Kirkland vault rumour, that vault hold a collection of untouched historical and rare artifacts, magical and muggle! Tens of millions of galleons! All in a single vault, its the oldest vault there is; its even said that Merlin's skeleton and bell books are in there!”
‘No skeleton but many spell books’ Arthur thought, the goblin in front of him turned to the one who had just shut his mouth.
“Hes right, that vault is only to be accessed with a particular spell,” It grew confidant,”Take him to the vault.”
England still sensed a slight bit of nervousness.
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Getting to the vault who was completely isolated was no easy task, it took at least 30 minutes to arrive. On top of that, that was at the cart's top speed going downhill! I suppose that's what you could expect though, a vault at the very bottom of the biggest wizarding bank in the UK.
Walking up to the door he couldn't help but to hold his breath, it had been centuries since he himself had been here. Of course his brothers have been, the most recent was Alistair 167 years ago. The man always was weak when it came to wizarding brews.
Tapping on the large stone door thrice, followed by a swish and flick of the wand,”lubro aperiri ianuam kirklandiae. Puri sanguinis gentis decus.” before sliding the key out of his pocket, moving swiftly using the sharp part of the key and slicing his hand. Before his regeneration kicked in he smeared the key with his blood, sliding the key into the lock and twisting counter-clockwise.
With that both halves of the stone door opened outwards, as the torches ominously lit, illuminating the inside. Revealing a multitude of galleons, paintings and rare gems that shone like beacons in the dark. The vault looked as if it went on forever, the air was stale to the point where you could see the dust floating around.
A small squeaky voice came from behind him. ”So this is the vault of the kirkland clan..”
“Yes,, we rarely open it, simply because we have no need to” His voice echoed and bounced off the walls of the cave around him, not making it inside due to the sheer amount of galleons and gems not being anywhere for the sound to reflect.
Arthur reached into his pocket, pulled out a small velvet pouch. While filling the pouch he let his mind wander along his surroundings. Merlin's old spell book sat not even 2 meters away, On some shelves sat England's baby hair that he had hid in the vault after France cut it, it hurt too much to let go of it after putting all that effort into growing it out.
Among those there were other things, in particular old tea recipes, old dusty robes from the 1100’s, Scotland's old broken wand he cried over when it had snapped, an old golden bottle of vodka from the 8th century beside a rotten and smelly beer barrel from the same era.
Adverting his gaze his eyes landed on a large cross of Jesus Christ made of gold, silver and wood. It was a beautiful sight to see, the metals shone against the lantern light while the wood was illuminated by a soft yellow hue from the warm light.
Next to it sat an old gift from Russia, it was an orthodox painting which depicted the end times, it was a Christmas gift from the man from when they’d been friends. A similar icon of Jesus Christ with the Holy Theotokos gifted to him by Egypt during the 4th century far before the Arab conquest in the 9th. Both paintings were old beautifully made pieces of art, he had put them in here to preserve them as much as possible.
Across from those were an old portrait of him and his colonies, the two closest to him being canada and america and for some reason francis was also there too? Damn from kept nagging him about sitting the painting, in the end he caved and let him sit it.
Finishing his thought train england noticed his pouch was almost full, on his way out he made quick work snatching a lock of his baby hair and dragon heartstring before walking out. Before finally stepping out his head turn to look at the painting of his colonies just one last time, gaze lingering he stepped out.
The warm stale air instantly transformed into a cool damp cave, the sheer contrast made him shiver. Mind still locked on the painting, the only thing he could register was the slow stream of water droplets falling into a puddle somewhere out of sight. Shoes clicking on the ground as he walked only stopping once he stepped into the carriage. The goblin stayed silent and began to operate the cart, what had gone wrong?