A/N: Hello everyone. I don't believe that the Volturi get enough attention. Its always all about the Cullens, so I decided I needed to write the story of the Volturi.

I created a character to narrate my story. It is a female vampire named Julia, whom I made the sister of Marcus of the Volturi. It mentions that the Volturi began with Aro, Caius, Marcus, and two females, though, if I am correct, are never named.

My story begins in the modern world, but the bulk of the story is a flashback. My dates are a bit off. The Volturi are not quite as old as they should be, but that is the fantastic thing about fan fiction: you can write whatever you want!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing this.

Disclaimer: I owe it all to Stephenie Meyer

Chapter I

A.D. 2007

The rain sleets endlessly against my grimy classroom windows. Distantly, thunder rumbles. I can acutely feel my class's excitement, causing a slight buzz to fill my head, making it impossible to fully concentrate. The rain begins to come down harder, the flashes of lightning and roar of thunder become more frequent.

On the chalkboard, I write out the three principle parts of the verb 'to work'. laboro, laborare, laboravi.

"Alex, can you conjugate this verb so it translates to 'He had worked'?" I ask.

"Uh," Alex chews thoughtfully on the end of his pencil. I can tell he'd rather be doing anything than conjugating verbs. "labora—laboravit—no laborabat?" he tries without much effort.

Next to him, Thomas raises his hand enthusiastically. I ignore him for the time being.

"'He had worked' is in the pluperfect tense. Remember the trick I taught you to remember the pluperfect tense endings?" I urge.

"Magistra, it's Friday," Alex complains.

I sigh, knowing it's not worth an argument. "Thomas, will you answer?"

"laboraverat," Thomas answers confidently, flashing me a smile.

"That's right, Thomas," I say, then to the rest of my Latin class. "Let's get to work on finishing the worksheet I handed out. Any unfinished work is homework."

With the exception of a few students, everyone groans.

"But you never give homework on Fridays, Magistra!" Alex blurts.

I try to keep my strict teacher façade, but I crack.

"I'm just kidding with you guys," I say with a smile. "Truth be told, I'm not really in the mood to conjugate verbs either. You may have the rest of period to talk quietly amongst yourselves." I am much too easy on these kids.

I hear a few whoops and a few students say, 'Multas gratias, Magistra'.

"Just don't get too loud," I warn with a smile. They are good kids, some of the best I have had in all my years of teaching.

I sit at my desk, more or less pretending to be checking my stack of un-graded worksheets. Listening to the children's conversations is what I'm really doing. My acute sense of hearing can pick up things that an average human cannot hear.

Jenny, Lisa, and Tina are talking about their plans for the weekend. All three of them are athletic girls, and their plans include a run on some of the trails in the woods.

"I just hope this dreadful rain stops," says Jenny, looking out at the downpour. I can feel her hoping, and I find myself wishing for a sunny weekend for them.

The other two nod in agreement and the topic soon changes to yesterday's track meet.

I can only assume that Alex and Jason are talking about video games.

"—and level forty-two with the decapitated robotic mummy. Oh man, it's literally impossible to slay! I've tried everything from the flaming bow and arrow to the sulfur flinger!" Alex says enthusiastically. The excitement he feels rushes through my veins. It takes me a moment to calm myself down.

"I haven't even made it past level forty yet," Jason admits. "I can't get past the lava snake."

Alex launches into an explanation on how to kill the lava snake, and I advert my attention to Mira. Mira is always shy and quiet. She is extremely tall and thin and her face is covered in acne. She has beautiful, long black hair, which she usually uses to cover her face. She is easily one of my smartest students. Her emotions are the hardest for me to feel. Its like she's shut herself up so tight and built a wall that no one can break through.

Mira is not talking to anyone, which is common for her. Instead, she concentrates on the verb conjugation worksheet that I handed out. Under her breath, I can hear her reciting the tense endings in a rhythmic whisper. "-o, -s, -t, -mus, -tis, -nt, -bam, -bas, -bat, -bamus…"

Alissa and Harper talk about their usual: fashion and boys. Harper describes in detail the dress she is planning to where to her aunt's wedding. Alissa is staring dreamily at Thomas.

"Isn't he just gorgeous," she sighs, not appearing to have heard word Harper said.

"Girl, either you've got to get over him or get the guts to ask him out," Harper says, not hurt at all by her friend's lack of attention.

"Well seeing that I obviously can't get over him, I guess I should ask him out," she glances over at Thomas again. "But he doesn't even seem remotely interested in me." She lets out a heavy sigh, and I can sense her disappointment, the emotion that I hate most to feel.

Alissa is right. Thomas is not even at all slightly interested in her. He is, in fact, infatuated with another girl. That other girl happens to be me.

At the end of every class, he informs Kyle of at least one of my seemingly flawless attributes. Today it is my hair.

"I've never seen any hair as gorgeous as hers," as he turns to glance at me, I swiftly look away. His endless fascination with me does not bother me as much as it used to. I suppose I am growing accustomed to it. "Its almost down to her waist and perfectly straight. No girl with hair that long can keep it that nice. Look at Mira."

They both turn to look at Mira, who is still absorbed in her verb conjugating. She appears not have brushed her hair today. Kyle and Thomas snicker. Sometimes my heart just aches for poor Mira.

"Anyway," Thomas continues, "Magistra's hair is also such a beautiful color. Its like chocolate mixed with a bit of red. See how the red glitters in the sunlight?"

"Thomas, it's raining," Kyle informs him.

Thomas continues as though uninterrupted. "Her hair looks so beautiful against her porcelain skin, and it enhances her eyes, especially on the days that they are caramel colored."

This is the fact that disturbs me most about Thomas's infatuation. My eyes, depending on how recently I have last hunted, change from tranquil topaz to livid black. It is slightly unsettling that he is keen enough to pick up the change.

"They are almost black today," Thomas says. "I can't figure out why they change. It must be some sort of colored contacts.

"She can't be that much older than us, can she Kyle?" he continues. "I mean look at her! She doesn't look any older than twenty."

I smile to myself. If only he knew how old I truly was.

"Do you think she has a boyfriend?" Thomas brings up the common debate.

"With her looks, I'd be surprised if she didn't," says Kyle.

Thomas sighs, "Your probably right."

He spends the rest of the period staring at me, sending intense vibes of adoration in my direction. It takes every ounce of my concentration to block them out. I end up getting nothing done the entire period. I am relieved when the bell finally rings.

"valete, discipuli!" I call as my class rushes out the door, free from the binds of school for two glorious days. "Have a nice weekend."

Thomas is the only one who wishes me a nice weekend back.

I pack up my bag and head for the exit. I step into the downpour, wishing I had brought an umbrella. I pass Madeline Bennett, the sixth grade choir teacher, on my way to my car. The rain mingles with her strong perfume and sweet body odor, reminding me that it has been awhile since I had last hunted. I mentally add that to my to do list.

"Have a nice weekend, Julia!" she calls in my direction. Her excitement courses through me.

"And the same to you, Madeline," I call back, smiling in spite of myself.

I slide gracefully into the front seat of my sleek black Volvo, easily the most expensive car in the parking lot. As much as I hate drawing attention to myself, I can't resist the magnificent car. My kind is drawn to beauty, so it is hard for us to accept anything less than that.

I pull into the parking lot of my apartment building. More than anything, I want to buy a house, but I know that when the time comes for me to move, it will be much easier to move out of a rented apartment than trying to sell a house.

The rain is still coming down in heavy sheets as I dash toward the apartment building. I open the front door, the rain dripping off my cold skin. I pick up my mail before proceeding to my room.

I open the door to my small apartment. All of my familiar belongings welcome me. Although I have only lived here for a year, I know that I have four, or five, at the most, before I will have to pack my bags and relocate again. I sigh, deciding not to think of that now.

I glance out the window to see if the rain has yet subsided, but it has not. If anything, it is coming down harder. Oh well. I'll just have to do my hunting trip in the rain.

I pull on a pair of old jeans and t-shirt, and replace my stiletto heals with a pair of well-worn sneakers. I make my way out a nearby park, knowing I must look pretty awkward taking a stroll in the heavy rain.

I find my usual path. Once in the woods, I let my animal instincts take over. I run at a swift, inhuman speed, dodging trees and other things that lay in my path. I quickly pick up the scent of a deer that had been drinking by the stream not too long ago. The deer is not hard to find, and I seize its slender form before it even has time to react. I sink my teeth deeply into its neck, quickly killing it, and begin to drain its blood. I immediately feel energized and swiftly kill two more deer before returning home.

I ignore the stares, pretending as though I have merely forgotten my umbrella, as I make my back my apartment. I take a long shower, washing any traces of dirt and blood away, while trying ineffectively to penetrate the warmth into my freezing skin.

As I shower, I think about poor Mira and how badly I want to reach out to her. The only problem is, I have no idea how. She is so mysterious, so withdrawn, so unreachable.

I sigh as I step out of the shower. I dress in my flannel pajamas, not planning to leave the house for the night. I know that pajamas are useless to me, considering my inability to sleep, but I can never resist the softness and comfort of them. And since I am going to remain in the house all night, I'd rather wear something comfortable than my stiff everyday clothing.

I take a brush to my long brown hair, then make my way to the small living room. I pick up the pile of mail I neglected to look at previously and collapse contently onto my favorite recliner.

I begin to page through the stack of mail. Bills, bills, bills, magazine, more bills…what is this? I stop at a small, cream-colored envelope.

I stare at the envelope I hold in my hand. If my heart had been beating, it would've stopped right now, for my name is written across the front of the envelope in an elegant yet familiar script.

Iulia Argentaria

It is in my brother's hand.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­For those who are interested, Latin meanings and connections for this chapter:

Magistra—this is actually a made up Latin word that comes from the Latin word magister, which translates as teacher (literally male teacher). Since there were no female teachers in ancient Rome, there is no female form of this word. Following the same pattern as similarly spelled nouns, Magistra was formed as a title commonly used for female Latin teachers (this could be compared to Senor or Senora in Spanish classes)

Multas gratias- (literally much thanks) thank you very much

Valete discipuli—goodbye students