It seems strange to see Russia and America getting along so well. No murmurings of "Commie Bastard" or "Amerika will become one with Mother Russia, da?" No not-so-subtle punches, or kicks under the table, or glares over hamburgers vodka, no casually-held-but-still-there-to-seem-threatening guns or pipes, no purple auras, no kol-kol-koling or ha-ha-ha-ha-haing. Russia and America are at peace.
"Well, I think it's great that there's not going to be nuclear war anytime soon," Canada whispers.
An uncountable number of eyes turn to his, and a chorus of "who are you?" fills the room.
"I'm Canada!"
The floating bear looks up at him, and, completely ignoring the fact that polar bears can't talk, or even float for that matter, asks "who?"
"Canada! The one that feeds you!"
"Oh. Food?"
Canada sighs, "later, Kilimanjaro."
"I'm Kumajiro."
"Sorry, Kumanaki."
America leaps to his feet, laughing that signature laugh of his. "North America is right!" no one notices the hushed exclamation of 'Canada!' "The Hero has saved us all from nuclear war!"
"That's what you think!" North Korea jumps up, slamming his hands onto the table.
"Aiyah! Sit down!" China grabs his younger brother by the collar, throws North Korea backwards into his chair, and smacks him upside the head for good measure. "You haven't got anywhere close to enough nuclear power to take on either of these two, aru!"
"But…"
"But nothing, aru. Here is a thought for you; if you go to war with anyone, you are grounded, aru! To South Korea!"
"No!" North Korea grips his elder brother's tunic, eyes wide with fright. "Don't you know what that means?! Don't you know… the horror… don't you know?!"
China simply nods, slowly, menacingly. South Korea leans over the arm of his chair, as close to his northern twin as he can get, and whispers as creepily as one can whisper the following phrase; "Oppan Gangnam Style."
North Korea screams, and grips China even tighter, blubbering about how he'll "never ever got to war with anyone ever!" China grins in triumph. South Korea just sulks.
"I think you should have let him go to war," Russia says, creepy grin in place, "It will be good for him to learn he is weak, da?"
North Korea throws China aside, swearing in his mother tongue, "I am strong! I'm as strong as anyone here!"
England helps China to his feet, offering his sympathy; "Sealand is just the same."
"Chill out, Asian dude!" America hollers, "You can't go to war against the Hero! You're not even the third most nuclear!"
"I don't think that sentence was grammatically correct, but he is right, comrade Korea. You wouldn't stand a chance."
"He isn't even third?" Hong Kong asks, "If he isn't, then who is?"
"China, probably," Vietnam mumbles.
"Aiyah! It's not me! It's Germany, aru!"
"Ve, Germany, do you have bombs? That's scary!"
"Nein. It could be one of the Middle Eastern countries."
Indignant yells are cut short by a mixture of three unmistakable laughs; ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, kol-kol-kol-kol and hon-hon-hon-hon.
"Bloody frog! What the hell is so funny?!" no prizes for guessing which country said this.
"Well, y'see Britain," America slings an arm around his brother's shoulder, "France is the third most nuclear."
"You mean; "France has the third largest amount of nuclear weaponry." Wait, what?!"
"Hon-hon-hon-hon! Didn't you know, rostbif?"
England turns a ghostly shade of white. "No frog-Francis! I mean Francis! I didn't know."
France hon-hon-hon-hons for a few more seconds, then curiously leans closer to England, reaches a hand out to the fear-paralysed body, presses a hand to the green-clothed buttock, and squeezes firmly. England squeaks, but doesn't shout or swear or smack the Frenchman. France hon-hon-hon-hons a little more.
England leans close to America, and murmurs, "remind me to kill the bloody frog in his sleep."
"Sure thing, Britain!" America claps his brother on the back, sending the frail tea-o-holic sprawling across the floor.
A pasty pair of arms pair of arms suddenly wrap around France's neck. "Frankreich [France] you know how I'm your bester Freund [best friend]…"
"Pruβen! Warum bist du hier?! [Why are you here?!]"
"Ich bin dennoch ein Land! Ich soll hier sein! [I am still a country! I should be here!]"
"Nein, Pruβen! Heim. Jetzt.[No, Prussia. Home. Now.]
"Nie! Ich werd' night Heim gehen! Ich will hier blieben! Ich bin ein Land, verdammt noch mal! [Never! I won't go home! I want to stay here! I am a country, damn it all/for fuck's sake!]"
"Hören du mir. Du bist ein Land kein mehr. Es tu mir lied, Brüderlien, du kann hier nicht sien. Heimgehen. Verstehst du mich?[Listen to me. You are no longer a country. I'm sorry, brother, but you can't stay here. Go home. Do you understand me?]"
Prussia sighs, shoulders slumped. "Ja. Ich vestehe Sie. [Yes. I understand you.]"
Germany sighs in exasperation. "Gut. Jetzt… [Good. Now...]"
"Ich hab' nur sprechen mit Frankreich gewollen.[I only wanted to talk to France]"
"Autoschlussel.[Car keys.]" Germany hands Prussia the metallic object, and Prussia slinks away, sending France a the-awesome-me-is-so-going-to-be-seeing-you-later glance.
Just as Prussia reaches the doors, they fly open, and in the Mother Of All Plot Twists; zombies.
America screams, and jumps into Canada's lap. Kumajiro growls, his pleasant nap disturbed, and bites America firmly on the hand. America howls in pain, and falls over-dramatically to the floor, slapping Canada around the face at least twice.
France dives behind England. England stands strong, and takes a wooden stick from a pocket concealed on the inside of his jacket. "Avada Ke- no, wait; that's the killing curse."
"Use it!" France wails, "Use it now!"
"They're zombies! They're already dead! Um… Expecto Patronum?"
In a flash of blue light, a lion made entirely of magical ectoplasm erupts from the wand, and… does absolutely nothing.
"Well, bollocks," England mutters.
"Try Alakazam!" a voice shouts.
"That's not going to-Sealand! What the hell are you doing here?!"
"I'm a country too!"
"No, Sealand. Go home."
Prussia holds up a hand to hi-five the micro-nation. "I just had the same talk with Deutschland."
"Uh… shouldn't the zombies be on us by now?" an empty chair whispers.
"Dude, don't say that!" America wails, covering his ears.
England glances over to the door. He laughs emptily, and simply says "I think we all know who the strongest countries are."
By the door, Russia and China have knocked most of the zombies out; China with his wok, Russia with the heel of his hand, cheerily chanting "One for you!" as his palm makes contact with the un-dead's faces.
They sit back down, Russia sending the Baltic States to clean up the bodies. China sits back between North Korea and Japan, but Russia has changed seats; he has decided to sit in the chair by which America is cowering. Russia wriggles, and sighs "Ah! Comfy…" to cover the whimper of fear the maple-scented cushion makes.
North Korea glances at the corpses, and the Baltic States clearing them away- apparently they're perfectly used to picking up dead bodies. He, Prussia, Sealand and several others simultaneously decide to never go to war with Russia or China.
By the end of the meeting, England and Germany have managed to send Sealand and Prussia home, the Baltic States have managed to clean up all three hundred zombies, Poland has forced Lithuania to get changed because his clothes were "Totally icky from, like, touching those zombies," Greece has managed to stay awake for a whole ten minutes, Italy has made three batches of pasta big enough to feed everyone, and eaten all three by himself, France has managed to grope England's fine ass twelve times (and his junk seven), and Canada has somehow survived another round of Russia on top of him. All in all, when comparing it to some other meetings, this World Conference was pretty successful.
A/N:
I don't own Hetalia, Harry Potter and the spells used, or Oppan Gangnam Style.
The Patronus didn't work, because zombies aren't Dementers or Lethifolds.
I know the German followed by the English looks messy, but at least you know what they're saying.
The idea for this came from finding out in a quiz that France has the third most nuclear weaponry potential. Myself and a fellow Hetalian were discussing how other nations would react; Canada would be scared, Russia and America wouldn't care, Prussia would become a kiss-ass, and England would just be scared. Then while writing this free-hand in a revision lesson, a non-Hetalian friend started talking about zombies, and that's where the plot twist came from. Thank you to L and Adaven for your all-round retardedness.
-Laurel Silver