Unlike the rest of the world filled with modern technology and design, the old British country holds one medieval room in his basement that is centuries old. The other nations already know about this dungeon and how England likes to perform weird spells and play with his "magical friends". But really, they just don't seem to care. The worst thing to come out of that basement was Busby's Chair, and Russia broke that multiple times. England wasn't a bad country, at least not anymore. Yes, he like many other countries did some pretty bad stuff in their history; England was better now.

England sat on his knees on the stone floor. A round decorated symbol etched onto the floor. Bowls of minerals laid in the middle, and fat candles sat around the design. England held his spell book in his hand, making sure he had everything perfect. The other nations have been making fun of his cooking for too long. Hopefully this will make them realize how good of a cook he really is. He stood up and started the incantation, "Scones panem, lac, et farinam. Dic ad eos, socii mei, non im acidum-"

Arthur flinches in between his words, a small paper cut forms on his finger. He doesn't realize it, but droplets of blood fall into the circle. Not having time to clean his small wound, he continues, "Magnus meus cibus est ut credant!"

A dark black smoke fills the room. Gusts of cold wind move through the walls. The candles burn out leaving the nation in complete darkness. A warm red streak of light whirls out from the mark on the floor and slithers down England's throat, making him fall onto the floor. Then the candles light back up again.

"There," he says standing back up, "Now nobody will make fun of my cooking. I just hope I did it correctly. These spells are so complicated sometimes."

He puts away all the candles, and covers the mark on the floor with a carpet; he may just use it in the future. He takes the bowl outside and throws it in his garden. He's learned that even if a spell might not work, they always make good compost.

The British country makes some tea and sits at the dining room table. The summer heat rolls through from the windows, making it a pleasant evening to spend with some tea and listen to the BBC radio. But he forgot.

Dropping his teacup onto the floor he runs to the calendar on the wall. Just what he thought. July was coming right around the corner. And he will be forced to revisit his memories once again.

...

"Happy Birthday!"

The two North American countries blew out the candles, America and Canada pushing eachother so they can blow out more.

"Take it easy, you'll burn someone." England grunted. He always hated the beginning of July. He loved his children, but ever since they became independent, he felt thrown out. But every year France makes sure to drag him along to celebrate the nation's birthdays.

France began pulling out the dead candles and started to cut the cake. The four countries decided to spend the celebration in one of America's houses this year. They sat out in his back porch, fireworks already out for that night.

"Can we open presents now," the nation's whined.

France chuckled and brought the gifts out from the house one by one, "You two act just like when you were children sometimes."

Canada opened his gifts first, since he had more (Cuba refused to give America a present). The two nations got clothes, food, video games, and they both got signed pictures of Prussia...

But no present from England.

"Arthur! How could you have forgotten?!" The Frenchman cursed out.

"Oh I got them gifts, it's just that I'm waiting for them to be ready."

Suddenly a timer rang inside the house. England hopped off his chair and gleefully waltzed inside.

"Did you use my kitchen?!"

The Family ran inside. They knew if they didn't try England's food he will be in an even worse mood than he already is. But when they walked in, it smelled delicious. England pulled out bright red and blue cupcakes and set them on the counter, "I knew there wouldn't be enough cake for everyone. Especially for America. So I decided to make some cupcakes."

The three nations stared at eachother. They could've sworn England's hair turned a light shade of orange for a moment.

"Ok," France announced, "I have lived a long life. I'll try the first bite." And before England could snap back at him, France bit a piece off one of the small blue cupcakes and dropped the food back onto the plate.

"What's wrong?" Canada asked nervously.

France shook his head and a large grin appeared on his face. Small tears rolled down his cheeks.

"It's perfect! Angleterre made something good for once!"

By this time, England had marched across the room getting ready to hit France over the head with a rolling pin. Stopping abruptly behind the frenchman's chair.

"Wait... Really? It's good?!"