The Wizards of Hetalia (Hetalia Fanfic Series) [DISCONTINUED]

[Prologue]

Sometimes I find it weird that an Italian like me actually finds a British book series not as bad as I thought. So I decided to take some of them to the World Meeting today, which was scheduled today.

But I would've never thought those Brits cast a spell on it. I mean, who else could explain what happened on that day?

[Reyna's POV]

"Yo! Reyna, what's up? Whatcha got there?"

I shift my head to the side slightly to look up at the joyful America, cowlick twitching anxiously, curious twinkles in his light blue eyes that glimmered like a sky full of stars. 

That's the one and only Alfred F. Jones. What the 'f' stands for? I wouldn't know. Anyway, he's really...well, in simple terms, extremely crazy in a good way, obsessed with burgers and stamina as long as my patience for his over the top antics that usually break people's sanity, but not me. 

His blonde hair brushes against my neck as he peers over my shoulder, his eyes pinned on the neatly stacked books in my hands that I slip onto the top of the long, circular table with chairs all around the perimeter. I roll my shoulders up and down to shake his chin off which works successfully. I sit down and run my fingers along the book, glancing up to him.

"Salve, Al. It's a book I-a found, it's actually not-a that bad." I answer glancing up to America, who breaks into a smile and takes a seat beside me. 

He stares at me for a few heartbeats and I stare back, not really knowing what he was trying to tell me with his eyes. 

"What?" I finally ask, America cocking his head to the side.

"Well...you can't just leave me hanging like that. What's it about?" He inquires, rocking back and forth in his chair which made me wonder why he didn't fall on his face when he pushes the chair up with his feet, leaving it standing on two wooden legs in midair. 

However, before I could answer his question, a girl his age pops up behind him, her amber hair bouncing up and down as she giggles without making a single sound. She pulls out a wooden baseball bat from who-the-living-gods even knows, resting it on her shoulder. She grins wickedly as she swings it, forcefully making the chair fall and America landing flat on his face. 

The girl set it on the opposite shoulder, winking before opening her mouth, "BATTER'S UP!"

Well, that's Amelia Jones. She looks really similar to Al, same blue eyes, same energetic demeanor, same weird obsession with food, same brown bomber jacket, same baseball bat. No, they're not siblings. They're not even related at all. Why does she look so identical to him then? Long story short, she came out of a mirror. Yes, I'm not kidding, as those Americans would say. 

"Pour dieu! It's a little late for that, darling." Another woman comments in exasperation, opening up a bottle of wine and pouring it into a fancy glass. 

That there's Francine Bonnefoy. She's dressed elegantly as usual, with a dark blue military uniform as a top, a violet skirt as her bottom, knee-high boots, and brown hair tied into a perfect french knot and held up by a golden crown. 

"Amelia! Why would you do that?" 

"Because I wanted to, duh! I was bored, Maddie! This meeting is taking forever!" 

Amelia and another girl, Madison Williams, who is about her age start to bicker for a few moments. Of course, it always ends up with Amelia winning the argument, but only because Madison is very quiet and can be taken control of quite easily. Madison, also called Maddie by several people including me, is quite the beauty, with soft violet eyes, glasses sitting on the brim of her nose, a red and white hooded over-coat with maple leaves along the edges, and blonde hair that was tied into slightly curly pigtails. 

"Yes, I win!" Amelia announces, pumping a fist into the air with a grin.

"Only because you wouldn't drop the subject." Two voices thick with british accents add in from across the table.

Oh, we can't forget about those two. To the left is a women about Francine's age with blonde hair up into pigtails just like Madison, a blue dress with a white apron, black stockings and flats, glasses, stern green eyes, and a broom leaning against the chair she quietly sat in, drinking tea from a chipped antique teacup. She's Alice Kirkland, she can actually be a nice person to talk to when she's not in her bossy mood. To the right is a man with emerald eyes, blonde hair, and a green military uniform. He's England, also known as Arthur Kirkland. Hmm, I feel like I'm forgetting something...right! You can't forget...well, his eyebrows. His eyebrows were quite interesting. Very...thick? 

"Don't worry about those three, Maddie! They're just acting like themselves." America had gotten resurrected from his fall, wrapping an arm around Madison's neck with a beam. 

"Y-yes, you're right." She softly answers, shyly shuffling a bit uncomfortably with his arm around the back of her neck. 

I can't help but chuckle a bit, those two have quite the relationship. I don't exactly know what it is yet, but they're close, very close. 

"Is someone a bit nervous around Amerique, hmm, Mademoiselle Madison?" A man with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a long, dark blue coat walks up beside Madison, gently grabbing her hand and kissing it, looking up at America as he did so.

I knew it was just another one of France's tests. You know, that French pervert? His name is Francis Bonnefoy. He just wanted to piss off America...which I would say ended up in success.

A deadly aura surrounded him as his cowlick twitches, like it sensed a sort of disruption in the atmosphere. Interesting, the last time I had seen that aura was when Russia and America were arguing. 

"France, p-please stop. Al doesn't like it. W-we can just stop, ey?"

I was wondering when he was going to show up. He's Canada, or Matthew Williams I should say. No, that's silly. He's not a ghost. You all just can't see him. 

But as usual, no one listened to poor Canada. I sigh, close my eyes to listen to the silly arguments that racked my brain from all directions and finally open them, only for my gaze to land on my books. The tips of my lips curve up into my regular smile as I grab the first one, which happened to be the first in the series. 

"YOU ALL BETTER LISTEN TO ME OR I WILL STAB YOU ALL!" I shout, letting myself go into a mad yandere mode, which I learned thanks to a friend of mine named Japan or Kiku Honda, to get everyone's attentions. 

Once everyone has their eyes pinned on me, I return into a joyful smile and the atmosphere turns bright and happy again. "Okay! I found a great book I wanna show you all." I tell them, setting it in the middle of the table. 

I look up to see all the countries gathered around me, waiting for me to go on. "It's called "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone"."

England and Alice straighten up in their chairs, smiles on the tips of their lips. 

"Why, I think I can recall that one. Was it by...hmm, what's her name..."

"J. K. Rowling, I presume?" England fills in on Alice's unfinished thoughts, taking a sip of tea before going on. "British writer that wrote that series."

I nod vigorously before smiling lifting a hand to let my fingers linger on the book.

For I completely ignored that tiny voice in my mind that told me to stop. Think about what you're doing. But I didn't. 

I open up the pages and a bright, dazzling light drowns my vision. I reach to close the book, but find it in the air, swirling around the room, tossing its papers down onto the countries' heads like bombs on an airplane. The ink on the paper jumps off it, combining to form a vortex that sucked the life out of me and the rest of the nations.

And for that, I had to pay.