The talented ladies Meyer and Rowling own all characters.

Edward's topaz eyes darkened to onyx as they narrowed in on Bella Swan. He had orders to kill her and being the militant man he was, he always obeyed orders.

He watched Bella, walk down a deserted alleyway all by herself as he sat on top of a tall building ready to pounce. She was wearing a plaid hoodie, skinny jeans, and black converse sneakers. It was all too easy.

The rain drizzled and wafted Bella's intoxicating sent to Edward's god-like nose. She smelled like wild flowers and it made him clench his icy fits in hunger. He tried to zone in on her mind, and become one with his prey. Yet, something was wrong. All Edward heard was deafening silence.

He couldn't hear her thoughts. Edward's world then turned upside down. He had always been able to hear everyone's thoughts. "What was wrong?" he wondered. Edward's pensive thoughts had distracted him from making the kill that was all too easy. Bella Swan was safe, for now…

From a rooftop out of sight of the thwarted assassin and his would-be prey, Albus Dumbledore let a sigh of relief escape from his lips into the velvety black night. As he watched Edward slink back into the shadows of the adjacent roof, he twirled his wand expertly, removing the Thought-Blocking Spell he had placed on Bella, then stowing the wand in the gold embroidered sleeve of his deep purple robe.

The elderly wizard removed his half-moon spectacles and rubbed his eyes. "That was close," he thought to himself anxiously. "Too close. If I hadn't gotten here when I did, she would have been dead for sure, and so would my last hope...everyone's last hope." His face took on a somber expression as he contemplated the close call.

The wind whistled through bare tree branches as the wizard clambered down the fire escape to the ground. His long white beard bellowed upward in the wind but he was too lost in thought to notice. By the time he reached the cobblestone alley, he had formed a decision.

"It is no use," he thought solemnly. "The situation has become desperate and I can no longer do it alone. I will need help, and soon." With a grim expression settling across his countenance, the wizard spun on his heel and disapparated into the cruel cold night.

Bella Swan stumbled as she entered the Leaky Cauldron to escape. "If I were only more graceful," she though as her eyes panned across the floor of the ancient pub that smelt of beer, pipe tobacco, and a smell she could not quite place. Bella Swan took off her rain-drenched hoodie which revealed vintage graphic Rolling Stones T-shirt.

Bella felt that all eyes on the room were on her. She looked up and immediately realized she was out of place. The people that were gathered into the small pub were dressed in long robes in dark hues of emerald, plumb, navy, mocha, and ebony. All though she was fully clothed she felt naked.

Everyone was whispering in hushed voices, about her, Bella was sure of it. Just as she was about as she was about to walk back into the dark and barren world that was the night someone stopped her.

He had long silver hair and his blue eyes sparkled like the sea from beneath his half-moon spectacles. He wore a tall pointed hat. It was purple and had stars and moons embroidered it in golden thread. Deep lines and wrinkles covered his ghostly pale hands and face. Bella, being as perceptive as she was, knew that he was from a time and place of long ago.

"Hello" he said ominously, "We've been waiting for you Isabella. My Name is Albus Dumbledore."

"H-how do you know my name?" Bella stuttered quizzically. Her eyebrows contracted over her deep chocolate eyes. Her voice echoed loudly in the suddenly silent pub and she tried to hide behind her veil of mahogany hair.

Dumbledore let out a whimsical chuckle, his periwinkle eyes twinkling. "Oh, Isabella, we know a great deal about you," he intoned. "You are to play a vital role in the future of our world."

Bella felt stunned beyond belief. "A vital role?" she wondered silently. "But I'm so average...so ordinary! I was just walking home from the library!" Her eyes took in the otherworldly assortment of people arrayed in the dingy pub, all watching her with great intensity. She dropped her eyes to study the tips of her green Converse sneakers, on which she had written Shakespeare quotes with a Sharpie. The familiar words did nothing to calm the butterflies which were broiling in her stomach. "They must have the wrong person," she concluded.

Bella's distress and confusion scrolled across her face and Dumbledore quickly perceived her uncertainty. With a lightning-quick movement, he snatched her hand from her side and led her across the pub. Bella tripped over a crack in the floorboards and almost tumbled into the crowd, but the strangely dressed people shied away before she touched them. Almost before she knew she had moved, Bella was standing in front of a nondescript, rough brick wall at the the back of the pub.

"I know this must be a little overwhelming, Isabella," Dumbledore informed her. He pulled what looked like a thin stick of wood from the sleeve of his robe. "I shall explain in due time. But first, we need to get you someplace safe. As long as you remain here, you are in grave danger."

Edward Cullen ran his pale hands through his copper colored hair. He paced about the corridor outside of his superior's makeshift office. He was surely in trouble in trouble now.

Edward had never failed to kill anyone before. Everything about him made him the perfect predator. He was fast, hand superior senses and reflexes and his angelic façade was perfect for luring in his prey. Edward Cullen was made to kill, so why has he let his frail muggle target escape and why couldn't he get the thought of her chocolate colored eyes out of his head?

Edward had difficulty figuring out my his superior, Neville Longbottom wanted to have Miss Swan, "done away with." Sure, it was beyond freakishly odd that Edward couldn't read her thoughts, but she seemed harmless enough. She was a frail human, who didn't have any magical abilities, and yet her death mattered so much to Neville.

Neville sat behind his desk staring at a moving picture of his parents through his silver colored eyes. The photo was taken long before Neville was born and long before the Cretaceous Curse had stolen his parents sanity. Neville felt has though the world was on his shoulders, but he assured himself the guilt would pass. "Weary is the man, who bargains with The Dark Lord," he thought as his fresh dark mark burned upon his arm. Neville rationalized that insignificant Bella Swan's death was a small price to pay for is parent's sanity. "When my parents have their senses back," he thought "We can defeat Voldemort together."

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