NOTICE:

I do not own any aspect of Harry Potter -the universe, place names, titles, or characters, nor anything else having to do with HP. The plot of this fan fiction is, however, mine. Harry Potter/Harry Potter universe and all aspects are owned by J.K. Rowling.

Chapter 1: Inbound

Mercedes Reyes stared out the window of the plane as it made its way towards Heathrow International. The clouds were already oppressive, and she wasn't even below them yet. Goodbye, sun, she thought glumly. She wondered how long it would take until her Hispanic skin to begin to look albino. The trip from the states had been bearable, all things considered, but she had always known that the flight (technically, flights, since she had to grab a connecting one in Atlanta) was going to be the easiest part of her ordeal. Mercedes sighed, fogging up the small window. She was going to miss her mom -despite it being her idea to ship her daughter off here. She was also going to miss the little house they shared together, the flower garden they had kept alive since she was in 5th grade, and all her friends back at school -well, most of them. The ones who didn't want her dead, that is.

Things were going to be so different now, and she had little choice in the matter, which made it an even harder pill to swallow. Her mother had been out of her depth with all the horrible goings on, and so, just like that, she was off to dear old dad's in jolly ol' England. New Mexico wasn't the nicest place she'd ever been, but it had been home. It hardly ever rained there, unlike England. She was just thankful that it wasn't already pouring as the plane came in for landing. She didn't own any serious rain gear, and she doubted her black cat umbrella would do much against a real London downpour, especially seeing as it was in her checked bag, along with her wand and any other objects the Muggles thought she might attempt to stab them with.

Her train of thought derailed as the captain announced it was time to land. Takeoffs and landings made her a bit nervous. "You can only rely on Muggle aircraft so much," her granddad always said, which didn't help her faith in them.

Finally the plane reached the asphalt, and once she had been instructed to do so by the flight attendants, she grabbed her carry-on and began to disembark the aircraft slowly, trudging her way into the terminal. She knew her dad might not be there to meet her -he had told her as much, and that was fine with her; she just hoped he didn't send his new wife. Mercedes knew she was going to be forced to see Marcia some before the school year started next week, but she wanted to keep it as limited as possible. She might be forced to make England her permanent home and begin life at a completely new school, but she did not have to pretend to enjoy occupying the same space as her father's replacement bride.

Marcia had met her dad a few years ago at work. Their quick engagement and subsequent elopement had been quite the shock to Mercedes. She had always expected her dad to give her proper notice when he thought he had found the next Mrs. Patterson, but only a week had passed between their engagement and their secret trip via international portkey to Italy, where they were married in some old chapel. The fact that she had met Marcia once or twice before in person two years ago did not count as proper notice. Not hardly. It seemed to Mercedes that she had barely gotten the engagement letter off the first owl before the next one came swooping in, burdened with the announcement of their marriage, and a cloying photograph of the two of them. She attempted to ignore the nagging, rational part of herself as she walked towards baggage claim. The part that reminded her that she had actually liked Marcia, before she was going out with her dad. The part that knew her step-mother wasn't truly awful. Sometimes she really wished her rational side would just fu...

"Mercedes?" She turned around at the sound of her name, spying an unassuming brown-haired man waving at her, before she frantically turned back to the carrousel to resume the search for her bag, which she thought she had spotted a second before being distracted. She cursed under her breath when she had to jog down the belt a bit, carry-on bumping against her hip, to get it before it went round again. After she had collected her bag -Damn, it was heavy, stupid charm her mom placed could have done something about the weight, couldn't it?- she turned back to the young man standing by the conveyor belt, looking uncertainly at her. She'd never seen him before, but she knew who he must be: Warren, her dad's apprentice, whom he had spoken of a few times before. Her dad worked as an Auror for the Ministry. The British Ministry of Magic, that is. There's an American one as well - called the Magical Congress of the United States- and quite a few others, so it's important to differentiate. At least that was what she was told.

Warren looked her up and down, then asked the security question her dad had made up when she was 3 in case she got lost. It was sad, and kind of pathetic that he hadn't ever gotten around to updating it, since she had lost interested in MagiPets when she was 5. Once she had answered satisfactorily, Warren introduced himself properly, and then very helpfully picked up her bag before guiding her through the crowds of Muggles and out of the airport.

As they walked, he kept up a running stream of information about where her dad was, and the details that he knew of her stay. She listened to bits and pieces as they walked, because there wasn't much else to do, unless she wanted to count taxis, that is.

"Your dad is at work currently, working alongside..."

"I'm to take you up to the house and..."

"Your step-mother..."

After that last, she decided firmly to tune him out, choosing to mentally review exactly what her plan of action was when it came to seeing her father. She needed to come up with something that would convince him to send her home.

Warren continued on with this line of burbling speech as they walked farther and farther away from the hustle and bustle of the parking line, and made their way towards a small, dank, deserted alley situated in a nook between two terminals. Warren turned to look at her once they reached what he deemed a hidden enough corner, just behind a dumpster and out of the sight line of any Muggles looking on from the surrounding windows. He silently held out his arm to her, she grabbed the crook of his proffered elbow, and before she could fully comprehend what was happening, he apparated.

When her head stopped spinning, she realized they were now standing outside her father's two story home in northern England. "Good gravy, you could have given me a bit of warning before popping off like that!" she groaned, closing her eyes and holding a hand to her swaying stomach. She really should have declined that salmon dinner on the flight; salmon and side-along apparation don't go very well together, she was coming to realize. Warren looked at her, his brow furrowed with mock consternation, "If you had been paying attention to absolutely anything I had said, you would have been prepared. I did mention it was safer to apparate as soon as we were clear." he tutted, turning away from her towards the front walk. He tapped her case with his wand as he went, causing it to float in front of him, and made a motion with his other hand for her to follow. With a slight shake to clear her fuzzy head, Mercedes trailed behind him, pausing only slightly as he unlocked the front door with his wand and stepped back to allow her to enter before him. He placed her bag down in the entryway and turned again to look at her. "I'm only going to say this once more, because it's the most important: You are not to leave the house until your father gets home; not even to stroll the grounds. That's his order. Is that understood?" he said solemnly. Mercedes looked him up and down once skeptically, sure by his face that he couldn't be more than 3 or 4 years older than herself. Who died and made you Minister?,she wondered. "Fine," she huffed rather gruffly, "Are you done?"

Warren sighed again, guessing correctly that was the best he could hope for from her, and turned to head out the door without a backwards glance. As soon as he was outside, Mercedes heard the door close firmly and lock in a complicated sounding way. Awesome, I've been magically locked in. She slowly made her way over to the bottom of the staircase and sunk down.

I'm officially in England. God knows how long it will be until I can go back... if I can go back. And with that thought, she finally let the tears fall.