Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA
I LOST THE PAGES! The hybrid fan fiction I am writing about is gone! I lost chapters 9-15! So it will take longer to retype and write, but for now…

Magic in America

April 24, 1679

England was away. That was the first problem. The second was, ten year old America was bored. The two caused a disaster. America was bouncing around the large room. His energy was building up. He needed to get out! The child wandered to the grand dark oak doors. There was a small crack that led out. The babysitter was somewhere in the giant house. The ten year old pushed the grand doors open and walked out, feeling the cool spring breeze.

He walked bare foot through the grass and into the lush green forest. There were men and woman wearing animal skin. He followed them and got caught. They didn't kill him. The people let him stay. He did stay for a day. In that day they taught him herbs, plants and hunting. It felt like he belonged.

In the night, he stayed in the village. The tribe let him stay at one of the long wooden houses. A small fur rug was laid out for him. The American Indians welcomed him as a family. America was sad to go back, but England might have arrived! They couldn't come with him, or they might be killed.

It was a bad decision to go alone. He got lost easily. The forest looked the same, all dark and big. He realized that he was lost. It was getting darker by the second. The spruce trees were tall and the ground was brown mush. Bugs flew all around. The dark made it hard to see. It was nearly pitch black. Branches scraped his skin, making it bleed a little. He fell into a musty pit.

America yelped as he hit the ground. He groaned as she stood up and felt the walls. It felt like a small room. He could jump out of the hole, but curiosity made him wonder. Why was there a hole here? His hands dug the dirt in front of him. It collapsed as he dug through. The dirt that was on top still stood. It looked like it was floating.

The room he dug into looked bigger than expected. America walked forward. Inside the dark cave were leaves, and it was strangely shining. There wasn't any natural light. It felt eerie. The shining came from the middle of the room. It seemed to be under the ground. America walked slowly towards the eerie light.

He dug, and found a small white diamond star. It was blinding bright. America closed his eyes quickly. He felt the gem getting hotter. It pushed into his skin, making it feel unnatural and painful. He held his scream, but only barely.

The light died out, leaving America dizzy and stumbling. He looked at his hand, where the pain was before. The white star was imbedded in his hand. It was warm. He tried to remove it. The star was stuck in his skin. It seemed like it was actually a part of him. It was now smooth. He decided to leave. This was too spooky.

America jumped out of the hole, stumbling a little. He was still a little dizzy. It was morning. America recognized some of the land marks. He followed them to the house, unaware of the two blood red eyes staring at him.

April 26, 1679

America was in the garden. He was sitting down and looking up at the beautiful sky. It looked wide and amazing. He wished he could fly. All the birds looked free. America didn't notice his hand glowing. His mind was daydreaming. A shrill scream interrupted it. It was the babysitter. Her name was Megan, and she was forty-five. She was there neighbor. Megan had normal light brown hair that was cut short. It contrasted wonderfully with her pale skin.

America was confused. Why did the woman scream? He looked around. Everything seemed to be shorter. Was it a growth spurt? He looked down. America was floating. By this time, Megan had fainted. He willed his self to go down. It slowly obeyed him. He was touching the ground again.

America waddled to his room and got a cushion and a blanket. He laid it on top of Megan. England said always to do good things! America frowned. If his flying made her faint then it was bad. He walked to the closet. There was a box on the floor. He used his little chubby hands to open a box. Inside were blankets and gloves. The gloves he picked out were white. He put them on. They were a little bit too big. It covered the white star just perfectly.

America walked down to England's library. England had hired tutors to teach him how to read and write. They had used some books from England's library. The books were about magic. When the tutor saw them, he thought England was crazy. The tutor still taught America. Half of the words, even the tutor didn't know.

America was sure this was magic. England said flying was magic and that was what he did. He opened the doors into the library. America jumped up to grab a book. He settled his little body into a grand chair and started to read.

December 15, 1679

England was still gone. It had been eight months since he gotten the magic. America had learned a lot about magic during those months. He was practicing summoning. He was average. America kept summoning bunnies. The bunnies kept running into the forest. He discovered that magic in the forest while learning. There were fairies and unicorns, goblins and trolls.

Summoning was probably that hardest for America. Suddenly, shaking out of his flashbacks he was something being thrown at him. It was a bunny, a dead one. It was only a head. He fought the urge to not throw up in disgust. America backed away. A figure appeared in the same direction.

It came closer to him. The figure was big, tall and bulky. It was a man. He had dark brown hair, gleaming red eyes and a dangerous insane smile. America shrunk away.

"America~" sung the man mischievously.

America ran, scared. Big hands picked him up. He whimpered.

"W-w-what?" stuttered America terrified.

"Big a good boy and stay still." His smile widen when America nodded.

The tall man walked towards the forest. America In his grip. He walked through the forest, animals shrinking away. It was strangely close to England's house. The man lived in a cozy cave. Inside was fire burning in the wall. A large bear rug was laid in front of them. There were red splats on and around the bear rug.

The man laid America down. America was too scared to move. He saw the weird man pull out a shiny iron blade. The man walked towards him slowly, building fear inside America. He held the blade of the knife at America's arm. Blood made of gold tickled down.

"Hmp" said the man amused.

The man pulled away.

"Guess you have to stay alive…" the man chuckled.

America suddenly moved. He ran past the prison, his heart was beating fast.

"America, come back~" Taunted the man.

He pushed his small ten year old body to run faster.

October 29, 1692

They had moved to Massachusetts, Salem. America wanted to see the country. His magic was improving. He had learned the man was called Allan. America kept seeing Allan in his life. Allan was everywhere, in homes, in the forest and even in the bathroom. America was physically twelve. After a while, his saneness declined.

He didn't realize it but his country detected the uneasiness. He only realized It when a group of villagers knocked him out and threw him in jail.

"What did I do!?" exclaimed America.

They ignored him. Five days passed. They didn't give him food. The sixth day was the date was his hanging. He was standing on a platform. A itching rope was hung around his neck.

"This is Alfred Jones. Accused of being a warlock! He has been the same age for years!" exclaimed the fat man hanging him.

'England will save me' he thought.

All hope disappeared when the hard rope started to choke him. All he felt was pain. A black darkness descended over him. America woke up in water. He swam up, coughing as soon as he reached the surface. All the water was dispelled from his lungs. He walked down the street to England's house. His twelve year old body was in a bad condition.

"I will get more stronger and protect everyone." Declared America.