Albus Potter and the Awesome Trio

Prepubescents

America unloaded off his plane, luggage in one hand, phone in the other as he glanced down at the text message conversation he had with England a few days ago. The message had been simple and vague, only stating that the American had to come to his house today by noon. Last night, he had boarded his plane at Ronald Reagan Airport in D.C. to fly to JFK in New York and then got on another flight for London, a roughly 9 hour flight to Iggy's place. The young nation wished that Britain had told him earlier, he had a meeting with his boss yesterday and many airlines had already been booked. A few strings pulled here and there had gotten him in a seat in coach at the back of the plane, and it had not been comfortable.

He hailed a taxi an sat back to close his eyes. A soft drizzle of rain tapped against the windows and one could barely see outside from all the fog. 'Why's it always raining in the UK? You think it has to do with Iggy or something?' He hadn't gotten any sleep till his first flight up to NYC, and that was only an hour flight. The taxi wasn't long enough, the American soon found himself at the beginning of Iggy's long ass drive way. He began the trek up, why is it that the dude had to have such a long drive way? Privacy? We're like 10 miles outside of London and all I can see hills and trees. It takes more than that in most American cities, unless your in Omaha or something like that. Maybe the place is like an oasis, go a mile or so in any direction and you would find yourself among office buildings again.

The house itself was nice, old stone; half covered in ivy and windows everywhere. A large mahogany door welcomed who ever stepped foot before it. It had an old fashioned knocker the shape of lion's head and the house was surrounded by nicely pruned rose bushes. Overall a beautiful old manor. America knocked once, twice, and was interrupted by the door opening.

"Finally! You are almost late!"

"No I'm not, THE HERO IS NE-"

"We get it, now get inside you bloody git"

The damp american got inside, shaking his hair like a dog. England glared at him,

"What's wrong dude!"

"Nothing..."

The elder nation led the other to a room where two nations were already there.

"Hey! England! Vhy is zhe awesome me gracing you vith mein presence? Oh! Hallo Amerika!"

"Hey Prussia, what's up bro!"

"I don't know, mein kleiner Bruder voke me up zhis morning and loaded me onto a plane vith a suitcase."

Denmark watched the whole exchange, for once quiet. He stood up and looked at Britain,

"Britain man, this was cool and all, but what are we doing before I go and find myself a good ol' english pub and try their beer."

"Yes, follow me."

England got up and led the three others towards the kitchen. America looked at the kitchen intently.It looked pristine, but the distinct smell of smoke told otherwise. The young nation shivered, he knew the scent of smoke all to well.

They followed the short british man into his basement, through a door and into a large room with a huge thing drawn on the floor and candles on each point of... was that a pentagram?!

"I want you three to stand on that star." The Brit ordered calmly,

"Dude! That's a pentagram! Like for witchcraft and shit!" The American exclaimed,

"I know, now stand on it." The Englishman sighed.

Giving Prussia a shove, England went to the other side of the room and was muttering to himself as the three other nations 'Well, in Prussia's case Ex-nation' The American cringed at the thought, Prussia would have his head if he knew what had just pasted through his head. Suddenly England whipped around, a book in one hand and a thin length of wood in the other. He waved the stick at the three of them in quick succession. A thin trail of fog emitted from the stick- no, it's a wand the American realized before a wave of white light over came him.