Harry frowned as he sat down in his seat in Potions class. Professor Snape's hatred for him seemed to grow each year. It was as if his very existence were an insult to the Slytherin. Beside him, Ron's eyes slowly slid shut as he let out a loud yawn. In constant, Hermione looked ready to take on a Hippogriff. Harry wasn't sure why she bothered being excited for Snape's class. Potions was the very opposite of 'exciting.'

Suddenly, a loud bang sounded as the door swung open. Ron's Head immediately shot up and the red-head cursed under his breath. Unfortunately for him, it wasn't quiet enough, earning a smack around the head from Hermione.

"Silence," Snape's silky voice rang out across the room, conversations immediately ceasing. The Potions Professor walked towards his desk and paused to turn and peer out towards the students. His eyes locked on the Harry's for a split second and his lip curled.

"This year is preparation for OWLs. There will be no fooling around lest you end up losing a limb or two." His dark eyes glittered dangerously in Harry's direction. Harry gulped.

Fortunately, before Snape could continue his yearly speech, another loud bang sounded as the door slammed open.

"Sorry Sev, I was trying to look for the classroom and I couldn't find it. Why is it so hard to find the class? Also, why is it the dungeon? All the fumes can build up and could spread through the rest of the school. Not exactly safe, now is it?" Professor Popescu breathed out heavily as he tried to catch his breath.

Professor Snape visibly took a deep breath before turning back to face the class.

"As I was saying, this year-"

"Oh yeah, I'm Professor Popescu. Nice to be meeting you. I'm going to be helping Professor Snape here with his Potions things. If you ever need any help, I'm always available."

There were a few snickers, mostly from the Gryffindor side.

("Wow the Assistant Professor must be insane. I didn't think it was possible to make Snape glare that badly at you unless you were Potter.")

("How much time until you think Snape either gets an aneurysm or snaps?")

("I'll give it a month at tops.")

("5 Galleons for a week.")

("Deal.")

Professor Snape's jaw clenched but gave no other noticeable reaction at being cut off mid-speech. "The Potion is written on the board. The recipes shall be found in your textbooks. Begin!"

It was towards the end of the class that Harry paused in chopping his frog spleens to see Professor Popescu walk over to Malfoy, whose hand had been up for a minute or so. Snape had left the class to check the supply shelves, leaving Professor Popescu to walk over to Malfoy.

"What's wrong?" The Romanian asked.

Malfoy, with a smug look on his face responded, "Professor, I've completed my Potion." He presented it proudly. Harry heard Hermione huff in anger behind him. Even she was still on the last few steps of the Potion. There was no way that Malfoy had successfully completed it now.

Professor Popescu frowned. He peered at the dark blue potion and stirred it a few times. Suddenly, vapour blasted into the Professor's face sending him stumbling back.

"Professor!" Malfoy and a few others who were watching shouted while Harry reflexively reached out to try and help. To everyone's surprise, Professor Popescu laughed and cheerfully responded, "Mr. Malfoy, your Potion seems to be good. The only thing you missed was adding a few more chunks of frog spleen. Good work!"

Everyone stood there in silence. Malfoy looked like he wanted to ask if the Potion hadn't messed with the Professor's sanity. Instead, he nodded with a small smirk and said, "Thank you Professor."

Finally, Snape swooped back into the classroom. "Why are you all standing around here aimlessly? Get back to your potions!"

Hermione shrieked and quickly got back to finishing her potion. Harry sighed at his light blue potion and hoped he could fix it.

-This time skip is brought to you by Potions Class-

Professor Dumbledore frowned as he peered down at a letter on his desk. In preparation of the Tri-Wizard Tournament he had sent a letter to Madame Maxime of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.

In the letter, he had mentioned that Mr. Bonnefoy was teaching here as well. However, the new response stated that there had never been any Francis Bonnefoy that attended Beauxbaton. How was it that both Mr. Kirkland and Mr. Bonnefoy both didn't have records in the schools that they claimed to go to.

From the moment Mr. Kirkland said that he attended Hogwarts, Albus knew that he was lying. He definitely would have remembered if someone with as much magical affinity and power had attended his school.

Severus, who had been silent for the past few moments, spoke up, "Headmaster, Kirkland and Bonnefoy have clearly been lying to our faces.  Nothing is known about them other than the fact that they, along with Williams and Jones, know each other very well."

Albus raised his eyebrows. "I'm afraid Severus, that I do not know any more than you do. Mr. Kirkland, however, is someone that I definitely would have remembered if I had ever seen him before."

Severus scoffed. "And why Headmaster would you remember him? What is different about him, other than the fact that he can use minor wandless magic without any visible effort?"

Albus peered over the top of his moon-shaped glasses. "I dare say that Kirkland is more powerful than I."

Severus started in shock for a moment before quickly regaining his composure. "Are you sure? There is no possible way. He's too young to have developed more magic than you. At most, he's 23 years old."

Albus sighed. "I am sure. If it wasn't for the fact that I know that they don't have any ill intentions, I would ask them myself. Before the year is up we will find out the truth about these professors. However, it must be done discretely. The thought of such power being turned against us..." He trailed off.

Severus sneered, but complied. "I suppose talking to Kirkland will be the most beneficial. He doesn't seem to be as clueless as the others."

Albus gave Severus a look for his words but relented. "Thank you Severus."

'Who could these powerful wizards be?' Albus pondered.

-This time skip is brought to you by Severus Snape the Spy-

Francis Bonnefoy - also known as the nation of France - was not having a good day. He strided down the long hallway, listening to his footsteps echo through the walls. After the Headmaster announced that the Triwizard Tournament was taking place this year, everyone - mostly Arthur - started to panic a little. What if Dumbledore found out that he had never attended L'Académie de Magie Beauxbâtons? What if they found out that Arthur never attended Hogwarts either? What if, what if, what if? Honestly if Angleterre worried any more, he might actually start to look like the old man he is.

(Of course, France knew that technically he is older by England by at least a century or two, but that doesn't make him old, right?)

America was the only one that actually called England an old man —apart from Hong Kong that is - which was strange enough in itself. Was he trying to distance himself from the idea of pursuing a relationship with the grumpy Brit by reminding himself of his actual age, not that it mattered much to nations. Physically they were only a few years apart.

Perhaps he was looking too into it. Maybe Amérique just liked to tease England.

Before he could ponder anymore, a loud voice cut through his thoughts. "Hey Francy-Pants!"

Grimacing, Francis turned to see Alfred running towards him, a stack of papers in his hand. He stepped back quickly, preventing the American from crashing into him by a mere centimetre. "Oui? Qu'est-ce que tu veux a moi?" He sighed.

Alfred blinked. "Franny, you know I don't speak your Frenchy language." He paused, "I need your help. Can you watch my class? I need to go find England."

("Sérieusement? Franny?")

("What other nickname could I use other than Franny or Francy-Pants for France? Can I keep using it?")

("Non, absolument pas!")

("Please?")

("Non.")

Francis raised an eyebrow at Alfred's flustered expression. "Ohonhonhon...I see! You wish to speak to Angleterre about the matters of your heart. C'est pas un problème."

Alfred sputtered for a moment before responding, "No, no, it's not like that at all! I just forgot to tell him something. I just need you to watch them, for like, 10 minutes tops."

Francis nodded, a wide smirk on his face, "Of course. If you end up confessing to your beloved, you would tell Big Brother France, non?"

Turning away from the American nation's red face, Francis stepped into the classroom. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alfred start to run down the hall. When he walked in, he was met with wide-eyed looks. Ignoring the owl-like stares, Francis stated, "Your Professor left to run an errand. I shall be supervising you for the mean time."

Unfortunately for him, it was at that moment the door slammed open. Francis felt a sinking feeling in his gut as he looked into bright green eyes and shockingly deep red hair.

"ARTHUR!"

Francis gulped as the person's eyes fell on him.

'Merde. Why is Écosse here?'

-Madsinator (10/26/18)

AN: I'm starting to bring in more nations now. Scotland was mentioned quite a few chapters ago. Dumbledore is onto the nations. See you in the next chapter!