I'm bored and sick so I've started a small drabble series. Don't worry, the chapters will get longer soon enough. And have more plot (when I finally think of it). This is during Harry's third year, so yay~ Hope you enjoy!
I do not own Harry Potter or Hetalia
Magic.
What do you think of when you here this word? Some would say wand waving wart-faces witches, while others cauldrons filled with questionable liquid. The young and bright minded would even say animals with wings and tails and abilities one could only dream of.
Yes, well, I suppose all that IS magic.
But magic, in a wider sense, is everything around you; everything the light touches to everything the darkness caresses. It is in every little happy experience, in every sadness that you feel. Magic is everywhere; after all it's like and death and everything between and after. Magic is everything and nothing.
And, of course, magic is in the land and its people. The land where folk of old cast spells and did rituals that fed the land with their own magic. So is it such a surprise when the personifications of these lands have magic too?
Yes, all of us do. Some less than others, some more.
For example, in my younger days I met many nations much like me, who wielded magic. One of which, to my surprise, was S—
England let the book fall shut with a sigh. The Brit glanced at the window and stood up, shuffling over to the shelf to place the book — diary really — back in its place. If, God forbid, Scotland or one of his brothers came around and saw it out of place they would surely have his hide and magic.
He shuddered. That was NOT a good memory.
He sat back down in his chair with a sigh. He picked up his Earl Grey tea, taking a sip.
His mind went back to the diary and he pondered upon those words. If what was written was the truth — which he didn't doubt it was — it would mean that EVERY nation had magic. Yes, over two hundred 'people' had magic alone. But that didn't mean it was a good thing.
Some of those nations, which he could name off the top of his head, weren't exactly... The most discreet when it comes to their abilities. It's still a wonder how America hadn't revealed he was a nation to those nosy citizens of his yet. They could be bloody terrifying when looking for a scoop!
He sighed.
But yes, it would be a mess if someone like America used their magical powers unknowingly in, let's say, the middle of a busy New York street.
"Utterly disastrous I'd say!" He snorted. "That idiot would probably go off babbling how he was a real superhero! Dear God, how did I raise him into THAT?" The nation, disgusted with his former charge, shook his head and took a sip of tea.
And then there were the nations like Russia who would... Well, England didn't really know what the large nation would do, but surely it would be bad. Right? Yes, of course. Bad. For all England knew, Russia could accidentally use a Curse on America.
Not that England would mind that much, but Alfr—Anerica was important to his economy and political alliances. It would do no one any good if he suddenly went off and died on them. Besides, the President might just blame HIM! It was a well know fact that England knew magic. (Even if some chose not to believe it...)
His mind wandered over to Sealand and the other micronations. Did they have magic too? He doubted it, because some barely even had a track of land and any citizens. Then again, with a much smaller land would come a much better focus. They were small, so old magic focussed on every inch of them.
From what he read, every part of Earth was coated in a thin layer of what they called magic. Because of that, every nation had a small or large bit of magic in them. However, one needed great focus to use it.
England wasn't as large as a country as Russia or even France, so he had a much better grip on his magic. Smaller land, better focus the book had said. Maybe it was why England hadn't seen Russia preform much magic; he was the largest country so magic was spread all out his country and he didn't have enough Focus to grip it.
He didn't doubt that Russia could learn magic if he tried hard enough, but it would take a great amount of concentration and dedication he doubted the childish man had. At least he was safe in that area...
The blond breathed a sigh of relief.
Micronations like his little brother, on the other hand, had smaller land and could grip the core of their land and focus on their magic much easier. He's actually seen a bit of Sealand's magic, now that he thinks on it. His extreme jumping ability, and his ability to seemingly appear out of thin air...
"Bloody hell!" He groaned and his his face in his hands. He felt a headache coming up. If he told Sealand, that boy would become even MORE unbearable if he learns he was blesses with magic!
He could just imagine it; the brat laughing and waving around a broomstick while shouting "Haha, see that Jerk England? I have magic so you HAVE to recognise my independence now!"
Dear Lord, he wasn't ready for that headache. Not now. Or ever.
A sharp tapping nose brought him out of his thoughts with the force of America's throw. Surprised, England turned to the windows. His eyes scanned them until they landed on the one nearest to the door.
A small, ruffled barn owl gripped the window from the outside. Its eyes were a sharp golden colour, surprisingly, and it appeared to be assessing him. It looked like it had gotten on the wrong side of a windshield and gone out the loser.
Annoyed that he wasn't opening the window, the owl started to repeatedly peck the window in hopes it would break and she could go home.
The magical nation of unicorns, witches and scones hurried flung the window open and grabbed the little bird.
"Don't do that! Do you know how much window glass costs? Wait, of course you don't. You're a bird." He face palmed at his own lapse of stupidity (or what he liked to call, America-ness).
The said bird huffed and pecked at his fingers. Hissing, the former pirate let her go. She flew right back out the window she almost destroyed.
"Good riddance!" He muttered, still annoyed about the glass thing. That's when England noticed the letter she dropped on her way out. So curious as to what they were, the small nation picked them up.
He looked around his study for a paper cutter or something of that sort. After a few minutes of nothing he sighed and just ripped the paper open like an improper heathen with reluctance. Ah, resulting to such rude ways... How low he has fallen.
Curious, he opened the first letter he felt and started to read.
Dear Albion, or do you prefer England these day? Or was it Arthur Kirkland?
Never mind that, onto more pressing business. I could go on and on about this and that; all useless information; but instead I'll get right down to the point.
Pack all what you find important, and pack for a whole year. I think the other letter enclosed with this one will explain why you should pack for a year.
After you are done packing, head to the Leakey Cauldron in London and request the private room from Tom. As you've guessed, magic is involved!
But be warned love. You won't be the only nation there. Your two magic buddies will be as well as a few more eccentric individuals. Most of which who don't know about magic. Have fun explaining~
Also, do NOT tell anyone about this letter or the other one! You are only to discuss this with others who have received letters such as these!
I'll meet you there Love and explain everything!
With love and sincerity,
A person who you know
More than just a bit weirded out, the nation froze and stared at the crumpled parchment held between his shaking hands. He had assumed that it was perhaps a letter from his incompetent Minister of Magic or something of that sort but... Whoever sent it certainly knew of his former status as Albion, which wasn't common knowledge. Only his mother and brothers (and France) know about his former name.
The message mentioned another letter. He picked up the discarded paper and watched as a familiar old letter fell out of it.
Stupefied, he watched it fall. Whoever sent him this, is definitely wasn't Scotland!
That brute would rather hang himself than invite him to the school on his grounds! Scotland, as he's said before, didn't care Hogwarts was neutral territory; he didn't want England's eyebrows anywhere near it!
The magic wielder picked it up.
Whoever send the letters, they certainly had guts and knowledge. His eyes sharpened into cold emeralds, ones that have been locked away since the Wizarding War.
He was going to this meeting to learn whether those guts and knowledge were dangerous to him and his loved ones. He had to. Because America and Sealand would be so annoying if they got hurt. He'd hear the complaining all the way from Britain!
England left the room with a strength in his steps and eyes that burned in determination. The letters were clutched in his hands, and we could just make out what was written on them.
Mr A. Kirkland
The Study
Far Winging Mansion
London
England