The North America Bros and the Goblet of Fire

Trains, planes, and... Never mind, just trains (part one)

Suddenly, as Canada was walking down the aisle of the train, he remembered something.
"Wait... Isn't Harry is Gryffindor? Oh crap," he said aloud.
"Why is that bad," asked a voice.
Canada turned sharply to find that the compartment he had just walked into contained a trio of 2 boys and one girl. The girl was a brunette and had very bushy hair. One of the boys was ginger. The other, Canada recognized as Harry Potter.
"O-oh. Sorry," said Canada, frowning apologetically, "it's nothing. I just was looking forward to meeting the boy who lived."
"But I didn't really do anything," said Harry, "I just didn't die. I don't really deserve to be famous. Not for that, anyway. Didn't you hear about a few years ago?"
"Oh," said Canada, "the incident with the stolen item. Yeah. Wasn't it the philosopher's stone?"
"Yes," and if you weren't informed, Voldemort-"
Ron shuddered at the name
"Sorry," said Harry, "You-Know-Who was trying to steal it so he could come back. If I'm famous for anything, it ought to be that."
Canada nodded "So, w-who are you?"
"I'm Hermione. Hermione Granger," said Hermione, very bluntly, just as she had in her first year.
"Ron. Ron Weasly. Surprised you couldn't tell. Red hair and hand-me-downs, after all," said Ron through his mouthful of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.
"I don't think I need an introduction," said Harry, "But what do you mean about sorting? You look about our age- you were sorted a few years ago. Actually, I would have seen you around because we have Herbology with Hufflepuff."
"Transfer," said Canada, "I'm Matthew, by the way. Matthew Williams. I'm from Ilvermorny, the North American wizarding school."
Just then, Seamus walked in and began talking loudly about the house cup. Canada tuned it out as he tried to make sense of the current situation.
The dark mark. Pain. Fear. Death. That's all he could think of. And he was sure England had it worse, since it was his people who were attacked. But why? And how? How were the Death Eaters still alive? Canada had been sure they were all in Azkaban. But no. There were the sympathizes who could hide their alignment, could play neutral. He shifted his curl out of his face as he began to think.