Albus Potter and the Awesome Trio

Girls and Singing Hats

"What? You didn't trust me and the others?" America asked, a look of naïve hurt hiding his shock.

"I don't trust you, or Mathias, and I barely think Gilbert could do anything with that massive bloody ego he has."

"Artie, you hurt me!" he whined, internally flinching at how pathetic he sounded. Both nations were soaking wet, shivering from the cold and getting strange looks from both Albus and Rose.

"So you know him?" Albus asked.

"Guys, meet my slightly older, less heroic, brother Arthur Kirkland!" America said, beaming at the two.

"Slightly older," England scoffed.

England took out his wand and looked over America.

"Come here," The Briton said.

"Iggy? Whatcha gonna do to meh?"

"Why is it, that everytime you open your bloody mouth, you destroy another part of the beautiful built language we call English?"

"I don't know... Why are you such an insufferable lobster?"

"H- Y- You take that back right now! Now shut up and get yourself over here so I can dry you off," England said angrily, the red color on his pale cheeks making America want to laugh at his jab actually working

America inched forward, eying the wand warily. Last time he had seen it in use on a person, it had shrunk him down to his current predicament

"If father could see you, he would send you back to the States before you could say 'Chocolate Frog'"

"Are you going to tell him?" Alfred said, knowing full well that 'father' didn't exist.

"No, you don't need a howler on your first day..."

America didn't have a clue as to what a howler was, but he would play up the charade for now.

"Anyway," The Brit continued, "Arefaciet Umor"

America watched as his robes quickly dried themselves, England then repeated the same spell on himself. Rose and Albus watched in amazement.

"What spell was that?" Rose asked incredulously.

"A simple drought spell, My father uses it on Alfred all the time, he has habits of magically ending up soaked"

America glared at the Brit, knowing exactly what he was talking about.

"Not cool dude," he said, Britain offered up a cheeky smile.

They settled into a silence as they were almost across the lake.

"So what's Quidditch like here across the Pond?"

"It's different in America?" Rose asked curiously

"Yeah, we actually have- how to put it?" he looked at England pleadingly, not knowing a thing about Quidditch.

"In America, they have a different take on the game, called Quodpot. It's more rustic and barbaric. Strange considering that their version is far newer"

"It's not barbaric! You're just too unheroic to understand!" America retorted

They started to bicker again, before it got too far, Rose interupted them. They looked at her, not accustomed to someone interrupting them.

She briefly explained Quidditch to Alfred, who was wondering about where he could find a game of Quodpot. He needed to show Britain just how heroic that game really was, not that he knew a thing about it.