Prologue:
Arthur Kirkland, the personification of Great Britain, sighed as he set down his teacup and got up to answer the door. He was very busy and hoped it wasn't a certain American or Frenchmen. He might force feed them his scones or worse, set Russia on them. Then again, the two would claim that his scones would be worse than the rather intimidating nation. Bloody gits.
Much to his surprise, a rather odd fellow was on the other side of the door. The man looked old, powerful, and wise, but was certainly far younger and far less powerful than England. His long, silver beard went past his waist and his intelligent blue eyes were hidden behind half moon spectacles. He wore long, red wizard's robes and a matching wizard's hat. This man, was of course, Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The nation was familiar with the school, having been alive when it was built. Of course contrary to popular belief, it was not on England's land, but rather his big brother, Scotland's, territory. Though a lot of English witches and wizards attended along with Irish and Welsh ones as well. England hadn't seen the school in a couple hundred years due to his complicated relationship with his elder brothers. But of course he knew of Dumbledore. You'd have to be living under a rock or in America not to have heard of him.
Arthur frowned. He had cut ties with the wizarding world nearly forteen years ago after Harry Potter defeated Voldemort. That nasty ordeal had affected England rather bad, so Romania and Norway suggested that he leave the wizards. Since then, he only saw Dumbledore on a few occasions when something happening in the wizarding world threatened the Muggle one.
"To what do I own the pleasure, Albus?" he asked, inviting his guest into his home.
He got a pot of tea and some scones and offered them to the old headmaster. Dumbledore accepted the tea, but polietly declined the scones. He was all to familiar with the Englishman's cooking.
"I'm afraid this is no social call, Arthur." the old man replied. "I'm sorry to inform you that Lord Voldemort has returned."
The nation dropped his own teacup, causing it to shatter on the hardwood floor. The nation was definitely not expecting to hear that. The condition of severing ties with the magical community was, that should the rest of the population and the world be in danger, Arthur would do everything in his power to help the wizards put an end to it.
"The Ministry has been trying to deny it and they're even sending a spy in to try and kept Mr. Potter and me quiet." he explained.
"An-and what do you need me for?" England stuttered.
"I would like you to take the History of Magic position and send some of your colleagues under the disguise as first year students." Dumbledore said.
"Are year sure I can't just stick Belarus on Voldemort and the Ministry?" the nation asked. "She scares Russia, so she should scare them away."
Dumbledore smiled, having heard stories of the female nation wanting to "become one" with her big brother, Russia. Fudge would definitely love that. Not really. But the headmaster would pay to see the Minister's reaction to the Belarusian. He'd wager Voldemort would be disturbed by her.
"Unfortunately, as entertaining as that sounds, I'm afraid we can't do that. Though I think it's safe to say that both Russia and Belarus are both safe from Voldemort." Dumbledore mused.
"You're right." Arthur grimaced. "Very well then, I'll take four nations along with me a perform a de-aging spell on them. But you'll have to make... exceptions for them. I'll also have the whole Russia-Belarus thing as a backup."
The headmaster raised an eyebrow. "What kind of exceptions?"
The nation hesitated. "You'll have to allow them to carry weapons such as guns, a baseball bat, a white flag, and a hockey stick. You'll also have to allow the one to carry his pet around. Another will have to have access to the kitchen. And finally," he glanced at a nearby mirror, "you'll have to allow a portal that could give potentially dangerous psychopaths access to the castle."
"What do you mean?"
"Just advise your students and staff to stay away from mysterious cupcakes, plates of pasta, and any mirrors. Especially around the other nations and me. And not to partake in any suspicious 'games' with suspicious characters. Considering they are the five most dangerous ones."
"Duly noted." the headmaster said. "I'll see you and your four charges on September 1st, Professor Kirkland. Be at Platform 9 and 3/4 by eleven o'clock."
The headmaster winked and vanished with a loud "CRACK!" England massaged his temples and picked up the phone. He dialed a certain German's number knowing he'd kill two birds with one stone because that Italian was certain to be there too.
"Ve~ Ciao England!" the Italian greeted.
In the background the Englishman heard Germany's yell of "Dummkopf!" and Romano's yell of "Potato bastard!" He could also hear the older Italian screaming a stream of multilingual cuss words. Ah, Romano. His language was as polite and refined as ever. England was thankful he decided against taking South Italy. North Italy may be a complete coward, but he was more respectful than his big brother. Therefore, Veneziano will make a better impression than Romano.
"Italy, I need to speak with you and Germany both." he told the cowardly nation. "I have a huge favor to ask."
I'm going to make future chapters longer, I promise. I just tend to make prologue a shorter because I don't want to reveal anything major. I don't own Hetalia or Harry Potter. I'll try to update as soon as I can.