AN: Hey guys! I'm the author of this fic, Escritoria. I hope you like what you read! In advance, I'm going to apologize for any OOCness caused by my no-cursing policy, but I do my best to work around that so I hope you're not disappointed!

The main characters of this story are Britain and America—they're my favorites! There's also plenty of GerItaly in here too, so don't worry.

Please R&R! I appreciate you taking the time to read my humble little fanfic.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. Or America. Sadly.

The circle was drawn. The symmetry, the careful alignment, the loving arrangement of the curves and angles were comforting to Arthur. He loved drawing his circles, carving lines of magic through the planes of reality.

The other nations, he grumbled to himself. They can't appreciate the fine art of magic. Or my cooking. Now that was a sore spot. But although he complained about how little stock the other nations put into his wizardly abilities, Arthur was secretly proud to be the only country who could perform magic.

Except for times when it backfired.

Which was too often for England's taste.

Well, it hadn't actually backfired much. But of course, the one time it had, it had to involve that moron Feliciano.

FelicianA, Arthur corrected himself. She's a girl now, drat it all.

The girl who had once been Feliciano was kneeling at the other side of the circle. That idiot. Last time England had been experimenting—which required a very STABLE and UNINTERRUPTED environment, which he had specifically TOLD that moron!—she had gotten in the way, and, well…Once you cast a spell, you couldn't take it back. Even if you cast it on accident.

But she had wanted to play football with Germany at his house! Because now that the war was over she wanted to learn to be friends with him even though he scared the living daylights out of her, and his house was so pretty, with an ocean view on all sides! As if a peninsula wasn't good enough. And apparently, Italy's aim was lousy. And apparently, Arthur had made a mistake in setting up his experiment in a room with a very shatterable window.

Arthur muttered darkly to himself.

"Ve~? Didja say something, Britain?" asked the auburn-haired nuisance.

"No. Now let me concentrate!" he snapped.

Feliciana shrank back, and Arthur saw her hand curl around the emergency white flag she had tucked into her boot. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. No need to scare her any more than she already was. Arthur was a gentleman, and gentlemen never did things like that to ladies. Even ladies that used to be men.

"Feliciana, you have to be very quiet while I do this," Arthur ordered, staring her down to make sure she was getting it. "Or else it's not going to work. It might not work anyways, but it definitely won't work if you go ballistic in the middle of it. Am I clear?"

The Italian nodded, her hazel eyes wide. "Ve! I will be very still, like a statue! I know about statues. Just the other day I was visiting the art museum in—"

Arthur cut her off before he ended up getting her whole biography. "Good." Thankfully she took the hint.

He drew his (very normally-sized, no matter what stupid Alfred said) eyebrows together in concentration, staring at his circle, and he waited, his eyes closed, until that something inside him clicked into place. He didn't know what it was, but that was how his magic worked—when that puzzle piece was where it should be. When his entire person was in alignment, he guessed. It was only when doing magic that he felt whole, everything in its place.

He began to chant. Feliciana quavered as the circle before her lit up, casting her soft round face with hardness and shadows, but she didn't squeal or jump up, thankfully. Or start waving that awful white flag.

The chant rose in cadence. The words meant something, but Arthur wasn't always sure exactly what. Magic went by instinct as often as rules, and it was very volatile—as stupid Italy had already proven. He had to be careful.

Arthur reached the climax of his spell. The magical circle began to emit glowing sparks that swirled around Feliciana, who shivered and bit her lip at their touch but did not move.

Only a couple of the magical sparks had managed to sink into her skin to begin the transformation when the bane of Arthur's existence made his characteristically bad-timed appearance.

"Yo, Britain!" The door banged open. And Arthur lost his grip on the spell.

All the glowing pale green sparks abandoned Feliciana the second Britain lost the spell. For a moment they milled about her, confused. With no one to direct them, they turned back on their caster in a stream of eerie otherworldly light.

Arthur howled as the sparks all barreled into him at once, shooting through his blood and bones and nerves, rearranging the very fabric of who he was.

Feliciana screamed as Arthur fainted.

AN: Well, there you have it! I'll upload Chapter 2 very soon. Be sure and leave me a review and tell me what you think! Hasta la pasta!