When England showed up two hours early at the cinema, no one could recognize him. He didn't go order any popcorn or drinks because he was too excited to eat-too excited to think straight, even.
He clutched his ticket so tightly that his fingers went numb. He sat next to what he dimly recognized was France in barely contained excitement.
This passed when he realized what France was wearing.
"Frog, get out of my cinema. Now." he growled through gritted teeth. France shifted so that his skirt fell more comfortably and opened his mouth to reply-and kept it open. He pointed a trembling finger at England's hair.
"Angleterre! Ton cheveux, mon Dieu, c'est-c'est-" he spluttered, shocked into speaking his own language.
Almost self-consciously, England passed a hand through his now midnight black mop. "Yes, well, Harry isn't blonde."
"Mais-I mean, but-but is it permanent?"
England's lip curled in renewed distaste at France's powder blue robes. "Is that Beauxbaton uniform permanent?"
France was saved from saying anything by the arrival of America-who pulled Canada in tow, their Hogwarts robes trailing out from behind them. Bright orange wigs and fake freckles adorned their faces.
"You guys, you guys! It's going to be the very last one! The last-holy crap, your wig is awesome, Iggy-and Taiwan and Hungary and them already said that they were going to cry, which I thought was-wait a second that's your real hair-"
"What America is trying to say," cut in Canada deftly, "is that we're very excited."
"As always, a pleasure to see you, erm…?"
"Canada." He shifted Kumajiro's weight to his hip. The bear was unenthusiastically wearing two fake bear heads on either side of his round face and looked like he had been dipped in liquid licorice.
"Ah. I-I knew that, of course!" spluttered England, covering his embarrassment by turning to a new arrival. "Australia, how are-get that thing away from me-"
Australia hugged the heavy coils of Bertha's scales protectively. "Relax, pops. She don't bite. Much."
"Why did you take a Nagini?" asked America, confused. Voldemort was the bad guy. People tended to not dress up as the bad guy.
"If there's a Voldemort I'll ask them if they need a snake prop. But only if they're comfortable enough to hold her."
At this fortuitous moment, Prussia had just finished buying his tickets, plus size popcorn, and beer. He had walked down to the crowd outside the cinema, frightening people with his distinct lack of nose. He had walked up to England, intending to poke fun at his ridiculous costume-or maybe to pull up France's skirt.
The world may never know.
For a few meters away Prussia saw a bright, scaly streak of green cross his vision. And for a few seconds he beheld Bertha in the air, her coils looping gracefully around his neck.
Later, he was to record in his diary that he was "awesome and completely cool with it".
"GETITOFFMEEEE!" he shrieked, pulling at the snake's body. Australia immediately ran over and said crossly, "Don't scare Bertha!"
"Scare Bertha! Scare-No, I wouldn't want to scare the verdammnt snake now would I? "
"Old girl tends to bite when she's scared." Australia was gently running a thumb down Bertha's head, calming her.
"Just-get-it-off-me-" jerked out Prussia through clenched teeth. He pulled away at the snake and it nuzzled against his cheek before returning to Australia's waiting arms.
"Y'know, it would be great if you could have her, since you're Voldemort an' all-"
"No. A thousand times no."
Australia shrugged. By now the waiting crowd had swelled and many familiar nations could be glimpsed between the actual humans; it seemed like at least fifty nations had come to watch at England's theater.
The ticket mistress opened the doors and the fans streamed in, all humming the Harry Potter theme like it was going out of fashion.
Which, in a curious way, it was.
Notes:
Today was the midnight screening of Harry Potter in most developed countries.
Also, updates are scarce because I was banned from the computer for the duration of the holidays. Slow catch-up, here we come.