Prologue: To Hogwarts we go!

This is my first fanfiction, so feel free to criticize!

Before we start, there are a few things I'd like to clarify:

This is a fanfic written by an inexperienced writer, so it's not good.

It follows the usual plot of Pottertalia (fourth and fifth year), with a few variations. Humans know about nations, but they don't know how they look like, bar the higher-ups. Even if they knew that that person was a nation, they would forget it, even if said nation - heck, every nation - broadcasted it out to the whole world to hear.

There are some OCs. Malaysia, Singapore, the Philippines and of course, the British Bros.

Right, enough with the rambling! Let's get into the crazy world of Hetalia and Hogwarts!

I do not own anything.

--Line break--

15 years ago

The nation of England groaned as he opened his eyes.

Another day, another shade of sunlight too bright, another shade of blood to cough up.

Really, the only worse thing Voldemort (seriously? Flight from death? In French? That name alone could make him throw up blood.) could do now was to just kill him.

It wasn't anything like the second Great War though (they just had to bomb the major cities. Fuck them), but this time, it was only him and his brothers.

He flipped over and accidentally fell off the bed.

Groaning, he stood up and made his way to the bathroom and looked into the mirror.

His face was as pale as ever, accentuated by the loss of weight he had recently - after all, it wasn't very easy to eat when you were throwing up almost every hour - and his eyes were dulled, losing the shine they had.

He coughed, feeling a pain in his chest.

Somehow, it felt… different. Like something was right once again. Like how he felt when each of the wars ended.

Staggering over to the sink, he coughed up blood. A vibrant red, with some specks of dark red.

By god, he hoped that once he was better (once this massacre was stopped), he would personally find Voldemort, resurrect him (necromancy was always his forte, and the only way to stop this was to kill him, right?) and kill him again and again, prophecy or not.

Sadly, that prophecy also meant that he couldn't kill him.

Taking a deep breath (and almost choking on the leftover blood in his throat), he rinsed, showered and dressed.

And almost immediately after, he collapsed.

"-and? England?"

England shot up, hitting the redhead's forehead right above him.

"Ow! Don't get up so suddenly! Is this how you pay back your big brother?"

He rolled his eyes. "Scotland, thanks, but you deserved that."

"Why you little- you know what, never mind. Just remind me to get back at you someday." Scotland huffed.

"By the way, do you feel… better?"

"Now that you mention… yeah. How long was I out?"

Just then, an owl flew in, the Daily Prophet in its beak. It landed on the coffee table and dropped the newspaper. Scotland gave it five Sickles and it flew off.

On the headlines, large letters wrote, "You-know-who defeated by the Boy Who Lived!"

Present time

"EVERYBODY SHUT UP!"

The room went silent for a few seconds before the noise started again.

Germany sighed. He had dealt with a lot today. He was done.

England sat there, minding his own business, but for some reason, he seemed to not mind France taunting him.

"Angleterre, you seem out of character today. Anything troubling you?" France asked after the fifty-second time trying to get a reaction out of him.

"Hm? No, but something doesn't feel right. Since Voldemort rising last year."

"You mean that guy who used the best language to make the worst name ever? Of course that isn't right!"

"The best language in the world? Explain the word 'bird' and how it's pronounced."

"That's just one word! And it looks great, non?"

"No it doesn't. Frog. I'm going to start another Hundred Years War if I hear another word from your lips. Now, excuse me. I have something to talk."

England walked up to the podium.

The rather loud chatter - England was going to ignore Busby's Chair and how Russia was sitting in it, looking rather comfortable and the mysterious bloodstains - died down.

If England had something to say rather than quarrel with France about petty things, it should be important.

"Right. So, most of you have heard that Voldemort has risen again, no?"

The nations stirred uneasily. Yes, they were aware if magic. Yes, they used it. Wandless, though. Carrying a wand around wasn't very convenient.

And yes, they were affected - not much though, just a few bruises here and there, but they had seen what was done to England - by the war.

South Italy raised his hand, for once not insulting Germany's love for potatoes.

"Yes, we have. Is there any chance of this Voldemort getting as powerful as last time?"

England nodded.

"And that is why, nations of the world, I am inviting you to Hogwarts. I know that this comes as a surprise," he added, as the nations began to mutter amongst themselves, "-but I feel that we should relearn magic. Most of us here are decidedly rusty on it. If the Dark Lord really becomes as powerful as he was, we still can defend ourselves and our nations. Yes, Russia?"

The tall Russian spoke, without a trace of his usual childishness.

"How are we going to enter this magic school of yours and Scotland? We are too old."

"You can age up or down to any age you want, if there is a citizen at that age residing in your country."

Russia raised his eyebrows.

"Oh. I suppose that this isn't well known then, seeing as we know not of this."

"Yes. Are there any more questions? Your paperwork will be delivered to Hogwarts by owl, I told my boss about this and in turn he to your bosses."

"How are we going to enter Hogwarts? It would seem weird if a whole lot of transfers suddenly transferred to Hogwarts without any background, wouldn't it?" it was China who spoke.

"That's exactly what I was planning. Everyone has their own magic school, albeit less well-known. And the more experienced in magic will be going as professors."

"All right. I'm in." America.

General agreement ensued around the table.

"I guess it's set then? Fourteen transfers. I'll write to the headmaster... "

Yay, prologue done! How was it? Anyway, the nations going will be:

The G8 (and Romano)

China

Philippines

Singapore

Malaysia

The general rules that apply to the nations about magic will be:

Most spells won't work (some do).

They do die, but it isn't permanent. Just for a few minutes or so, depending on how strong the nation is.

Potions also don't work.

Usually the magic they give out using magic will be quite uneven. Meaning that sometimes they can barely perform, but sometimes they are capable of shattering a whole room just by trying to do a simple spell.

See you!