A/N: So, we have here two OFCs who are the main characters, clichés abound for the both of them. This was an attempt to get me back into writing after years of being away. It mostly worked, so I'm unapologetic about most of it. Still, let me know if there's any constructive criticism. Flames will be combed over for aforementioned cc then laughed at. No pairings yet: they may show up if I get to Book 4 or 5, but not really until then (as it stands, I'm stuck around Christmas Book 1).

Chapter 1

Acceptance Letters

Somewhere in Little Whinging, Surrey, an eleven year old boy was retrieving the mail before breakfast. Amongst the bills and advertisements would be a letter of parchment, the first letter that boy ever got.

This is not his story.

At the same time the emerald-eyed boy was staring at his envelope, an eleven year old girl was waiting by the window in her room. It was a rather impersonal room; it seemed decorated as a guest room would be, complete with an inoffensive landscape. Upon closer inspection of the tranquil, pastoral scene, however, it became clear that something was amiss. One could see the trees waving ever so slightly in the breeze.

The bed was done up with a plain, dark blue bedspread, and there was a small desk in the corner. There was a wardrobe, and a door led to what was apparently an en-suite, but the only personal touches to the room were the books on the bookshelf and the trunk sitting at the foot of the bed. The drapes were the same dark blue as the bedspread, and the raven-haired waif was dressed in a pale blue robe that off-set her quite well.

Suddenly, the girl sat upright, staring intently out the window. Off in the distance, was that movement? She leaned forward until her nose was nearly touching the glass, before hopping off the windowsill. She opened the window wide, her light brown eyes full of excitement. Still, though it seemed she would vibrate from the energy she was repressing, her feet stayed firmly on the floor, and she didn't make a sound as the speck in the distance came closer and finally grew large enough to see.

It was an owl.

The owl itself was as unremarkable version of its species, if one discounted the bird's complete lack of knowledge that the sun in the sky meant it should be sleeping. As it came closer, however, it became clear that the owl's diurnal activity was the least of its oddness. In its claws, it carried an envelope. The envelope was, in fact, nearly identical to the one the boy in Surrey was currently wishing he'd had the forethought to hide before his uncle could see it and take it from him. The only difference was that this one was addressed as such:

Belinda Black

The Small Blue Bedroom on the Second Floor

Avery Manor

Lannon, Wales

Belinda, for that's what the young girl's parents had named her, clutched her envelope tightly for several moments. If a pre-teen girl could squeal silently, that's what Belinda appeared to be doing. The silent shriek of joy only lasted a moment before she took up a snake-headed letter opener that had been resting on the windowsill for just this purpose. She sliced open the envelope and took the pages out. Despite having a good idea what it would say, she read over the enclosed pages with all the care of a lawyer perusing a document he was about to sign.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)

Dear Belinda Black,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

The second page was a list of supplies, a small number of which she already had. However, the lack of several of the books—and more importantly, a wand—would necessitate a trip to Diagon Alley.

Belinda sat down on her bed with a great sigh. She was pretty sure it wasn't relief, more like thanks that finally, after too many long years of drifting from house to house, caregiver to caregiver, she would at long last have a place she could call home. After all, it was said her father had considered it his first home, so why shouldn't she hold hopes it would be the same for her?

After a few moments of composing herself, Belinda tucked the envelope into a pocket in her robes and headed down to breakfast, in hopes of finding her current guardian.

She was in luck: shortly before she finished eating, he entered the dining room and summoned the house-elf, Tilly. Upon seeing him enter, Belinda stood and curtsied. "Good morning, Mr. Avery."

Avery looked up at his ward and nodded once, brusquely. It was a pain in the ass having to care for the girl, but Lucius Malfoy had managed to pawn her off on him until the start of her first Hogwarts term.

Belinda was used to such dark looks: not one of her various guardians had been what you could term "personable." She took her seat again. "Mr. Avery," Belinda said after a moment, "I received my Hogwarts letter this morning. When do you think we'll be able to go to Diagon Alley?"

"Finally," Avery muttered. "Was half-wondering if Lucius had lied and you'd turned out a squib." The only insults worse than being a squib in the circles she had been raised in were "blood traitor" and "Mudblood lover" with "Mudblood lover" being just slightly harsher. Still, Belinda didn't react outwardly to the insult. It'd been said about her before, and likely would again. She just looked at Avery, unblinking. She'd found that, due to some quirk of genetics, she could outstare just about anyone. And when she just looked at people, they tended to get very uncomfortable.

Sure enough, Avery began to twitch after just a few moments. "We'll go into London at the end of August," he finally snapped. "You can get your supplies the day before you leave for school."

Belinda nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Avery. May I be excused?"

He nodded curtly, and as Belinda made her escape she heard behind her, "Damn unnatural how she does that."

Belinda smirked slightly as she went back up to her room to review Magical Drafts and Potions.

HP/HL/HP/HL/HP/HL

Meanwhile, half a world away in an abandoned warehouse, an adult woman was fighting for her life in a swordfight against a taller, stronger opponent. He soon had her disarmed and on her knees and, as he raised his sword over his head, he paused to gloat; "There can be only one."

The woman thrust out with the dagger that had been hidden in her coat. Despite her pain and fatigue, her aim was true and he gasped as he stared down at the hilt sticking out of his heart. He coughed once before dropping his sword and falling to the ground. The woman coughed a couple times and tried to catch her breath. "Come on, Diana," she muttered. "He's not going to stay dead long." She forced herself to move, despite feeling her life's blood pouring out of the wound in her side. Diana—for that's what she'd named herself—didn't bother looking for her sword. She just took her opponent's and used it to take off his head.

Finally, content in the knowledge that she was safe, Diana let herself die before the Quickening had a chance to take her.

It was dark out when Diana finally gasped her way back to life. She rolled onto her back where she lay for several moments, gathering her strength. She could tell right away that "Francis de Gali" was older than she had originally surmised. Unfortunately, she wasn't exactly in a position to settle the Quickening now: she needed to get out of here and back to her car where she had a change of clothes. After taking a moment to retrieve both her sword and his, then rifling through de Gali's pockets for any valuables, she left his body to the Watchers she knew would still be around and stumbled out of the warehouse.

An hour later, Diana pulled into the driveway of her apartment and felt the presence of another Immortal. She looked around carefully before getting out of the car, then pulling her sword. She went to the door of her apartment and, unsurprisingly, found it unlocked. She toed the door open, ready for anything.

Except the stench the wafted out the door at her. She did, however, spot the source of the Buzz before she was overcome by the smell. "Good gods, Sensei!" she snapped as she covered her nose and mouth. She stepped inside and closed the door. "What the hell are you doing in here?"

Adam Pierson, known only to a few as Methos, smirked at his student. "I was just enjoying a beer. Blame him for the smell."

Diana's gaze followed the direction Adam was pointing and saw Connor McLeod (of the Clan McLeod) standing in her kitchen, stirring what looked to be a cauldron on her stove. The blue-eyed Scotsman gave Adam a dirty look before returning most of his attention to the cauldron. "You asked me to make it," was the retort.

Diana interrupted, knowing full well the two could argue for hours if they got going. "I don't really care whose fault it is, what is it? Because if that smell sinks into the carpeting, I'm never getting my deposit back. And if it sinks into my upholstery, I'll kill you both while you sleep."

Adam laughed as he draped himself bonelessly into Diana's favorite chair. "Ah, little one. There's plenty of time for that later. What have you been doing tonight? Or should I ask whose head you've been taking?"

Diana glared at him as the reminder of her earlier activities caused the unfamiliar Quickening to surge against her again. She rubbed her arms, trying to get the hair on them to stop sticking up. "Frances de Gali," she growled. "And before you say anything," she hastened, seeing the scolding Adam was about to send her way, "I tried to get to Holy Ground, the bastard cut me off. At that point it was fight him, or he was going to stab me in the middle of the street, drag me away and take my head without giving me a chance to wake up."

Connor's low, smoky voice cut in. "How'd you take him out? Because I've sparred with you: you're not as good as he is."

Diana threw a smirk to Adam before turning back to Connor. "I managed because, when he had me down and disarmed, he couldn't resist a 'There can be only one,' and Sensei here drilled me for months on things to do in that position."

Adam's smirk grew slowly and Connor laughed low. "Oh really, Diana?"

Diana blushed. "Not like that!" She hesitated. "Well, not that he didn't…I mean…." Her voice trailed off as both of the older Immortals began laughing outright at her. "Oh, I hate you guys," she muttered as she threw herself onto the couch.

Connor was fully aware that there were aspects to Diana's training that Adam would never tell Duncan. Truthfully, Connor approved of what he knew of it: females lived far different lives over most of history than they did now, and Diana was certainly a product of the modern age in the Western world. She saw absolutely nothing strange about the thought that she could do anything a man could do, and while she—unlike many modern women—acknowledged that men and women had different general strengths, she saw nothing strange about working to pursue "men's work"—hell, the girl had spent some of her life as a pre-Immortal in the American military. That said, women did have different lives in most of the societies Connor and Methos were familiar with, and Methos had ensured that Diana would be able to not just survive in such societies, but to thrive in them…whether by catching a weak-willed, well-positioned husband or by plying the world's oldest profession at a level no mere streetwalker could hope to aspire to. Methos still had plans to get formal geisha training for Diana.

With a shake of his head, amusement still causing a chuckle or two, Connor turned back to his project on the stove. "It's done," he announced, turning off the gas burner. He dipped a ladle into the middle of the liquid in the cauldron and poured it carefully into a waiting flask.

Diana rolled her head to look suspiciously into the kitchen. "Great. What is it?" Diana knew full well that she wasn't going to get rid of either of the Immortals until they were ready to leave, and really, all she wanted right now was to have several uninterrupted hours of alone time so she could settle this damn Quickening.

Adam intercepted the flask. "It's good as is for twenty-four hours, correct?" he asked.

Connor nodded. "And it would be best if she settled herself, first."

"Are you two going to quit talking about me like I'm not here?"

"No," was the cool answer from her primary teacher. He stood and turned back to Connor. "Thank you," Adam told him. "We'll come by once we're done here. Don't worry about the remnants. I'll take care of them."

Connor nodded, before turning to Diana. "It's been good teaching you," he told her. "You've been a good student."

Diana blinked, all put-upon thoughts gone. "You're leaving?" She looked back and forth between Connor and Adam. "…No," she said slowly, lowering her walls to taste the pair's emotions, "Sensei is sending me elsewhere, aren't you?" she asked.

Adam nodded once. "You'll see Connor again before we leave," he assured her.

Diana turned to Connor and leapt forward to give him a hug. "Thanks for everything," she whispered. "I've had a good time learning from you." She grinned impishly. "Even if you are a crazy old man."

Connor mock-glared at the young Immortal before kissing her once on the forehead. "I'll see you in a day or two. Drive the real Old Man in the room nuts before then, if you can."

"Will do!"

Adam shook his head at the pair as Connor headed out the door. He turned to Diana, studying her with a shrewd eye. "Quickening not settling?"

Diana scowled. "No," she snapped. "And I don't need your help settling it. You've told me time and again I have to be able to take care of these things myself."

The world's oldest Immortal let the mask drop and Methos stared at Diana for several moments. She met his gaze for longer than most would have been able to, but still looked away in the end. When Methos spoke, his voice was quiet and even. "Go. Run your preferred course. At least five miles." Diana's muted snarl made him smirk slightly. "You know you need to remember your own skin to settle the Quickening. Easiest way to do that is physical activity."

Diana muttered, "I don't want to have to carry my sword. Would you mind following me? Car, bike, whatever?"

"At least you realize I'm not running with you," he said, amused. The pair headed out the door.

Four hours later found Methos waiting for Diana to emerge from the bathroom. A mischievous smile crossed his face as he thought of what the evening would bring. Oh, she was going to be livid with him.

Diana came out, toweling her hair dry. "So, Sensei, was there a discussion we were going to have before I went and got us distracted with the exercise session from hell?"

"Not a discussion as such." He held out the tumbler of blue liquid. "Drink this."

Diana wrinkled her nose as the scent wafted to her again. "I'd rather not," she demurred.

"I didn't ask what you wanted, student-mine." Diana looked up into the face of her teacher, a bit surprised. "I told you to drink it."

She sighed. This was the Immortal born in a time when you did what you were told without arguing, or even procrastinating the way she currently was. In fact, she could see the arrogant anger of "how dare she" begin to enter his eyes. She reached out and grabbed the glass. "Well, it is a pretty shade of navy. Bottoms up," she said weakly. She closed her nose with her free hand, squeezed her eyes shut, and downed the contents.

Almost immediately she shuddered. "Gah! That stuff's worse than Robitussin!" She waved a hand uselessly in front of her, like she was trying to wave away the taste. "Please tell me I can have a chaser!"

Methos smiled at her and, despite the near-trauma she was going through, she felt a streak of fear flow through her and settle near the base of her spine. It was a smile she hadn't seen on him since he'd been playing Death for Kronos during the Horsemen debacle. Instinctively she started trying to trace ways out of the apartment. However, all Methos did was casually look at his watch for several seconds, then look back up at her. "Good night, child."

Diana felt a brief stab of pain in her gut, then fell over dead.

When Diana woke, it was silently and slow. Confusion had plenty of time to settle in. Usually she didn't awaken from death this slowly. She found herself trying to move and being unable to move much, due to a sore ache in her body. Her confusion only increased at that discovery: she hadn't been sore since she'd died her First Death. Oh, there had been occasional aches like her body was trying to tell her it should be sore, but she hadn't had actual muscle soreness like she had at the moment. A groan escaped her lips.

"Ah good, you're awake."

Diana would have wept at the sound of her teacher's voice, but she could tell her Sensei was back to being "Adam" again. As such, he probably wasn't going to sit back and enjoy her pain.

Sure enough, an icy wetness was pushed through her lips. "These are ice chips," Adam told her. "Just let them melt in your mouth until you can talk."

It took about four or five of them before Diana felt comfortable trying for speech. "I hurt," she rasped. "Why do I hurt?" The higher-than-expected pitch of own voice caused Diana to finally try to open her eyes. "And why does my voice sound funny?"

"Do you feel up to moving yet?" Adam asked, ignoring her question.

Diana gave him a suspicious look, but nodded slowly before trying to raise herself to a sitting position. It was slow going, but she got upright before long. That was when she realized that something else was odd.

Diana looked down at herself and shrieked. "My chest is gone!"

Adam winced a bit at the high pitch of her voice. "Ah, yes. About that…."

She turned to him and glared. "What the hell, Sensei?" She looked back down at herself, then around the room, her confusion and—frankly—fear amplifying. "And I'm shorter. And scrawnier. And…what the fuck!?"

Adam kept a wary eye on his young student. "The potion you drank earlier. It was a de-aging potion."

Diana fell silent for several moments. She inhaled slowly, then raised her eyes to look at Adam again. "A de-aging potion?" she repeated.

Adam relaxed. Diana had a bit of a temper that she would only let out around people she trusted. Others could still piss her off, but she generally held it in and ended up falling prey to anxiety issues. Frankly, it had taken him about three years to teach her ways to manage things and he was glad to see her putting some of the techniques to work. Of course it helped that while Diana's temper might flash at a moments' notice, she also tended to get over things quickly. "Yes. The empathy you mentioned to Connor that you had recently developed?" She nodded slowly. "It's an indication that you may have magical talent. Connor confirmed it a month ago, and we only waited this long for the potion because we wanted to make sure you would be accepted to a decent magic school before we set it off."

Diana looked at Adam with a flat gaze. "Magic?"

"Ah, yes? Magic is real, its practitioners are called wizards and witches, and they live in a society separate from but alongside what they call, 'The Muggle World.'"

"I know magic is real," Diana told him. "I met the Charmed Ones in San Francisco while I was playing courier for Connor. You know, when I killed that demon and my empathy kicked in full blast?"

"Let me rephrase. Wanded magic is real." Diana looked surprised at that one. "And wand-style magic tends to be what we Immortals are most capable at. So, while you get up and start stretching those sore muscles," he smirked at the dirty look Diana gave him, "I'll explain a few things about your status now."

The deaging potion apparently brought about its own issues. Diana still registered as Immortal to the Buzz, so she would be able to sense other Immortals, but ones that weren't in the know about the Order of the Fulmina wouldn't know she wasn't a child Immortal. Holy Ground would still protect her, and she would still come back from death, but her healing while alive had slowed to a point where it was only a little faster than a mortal's healing.

Then Adam went on to review the status of Immortals in the Wizarding World. They were known, but called Dark Creatures and soul-stealers. It seems one of the wizards (or witches) had seen a Quickening and come away from it thinking Immortals could do that to anyone. Thankfully, they had no good way to identify Immortals, so the warriors could still sneak in and out of the society like they did the rest of the world. Still, Diana would have to not mention Immortals or let on the fact that she didn't stay dead.

Still, one enterprising Immortal-wizard had created a "not so secret" society: The Order of the Fulmina. Diana was mildly surprised to hear it was Hugh Fitzcairn; she loved the dead man, but wouldn't have given him credit for enough smarts to organize such a thing. It was now public, though not common, knowledge that the Order of the Fulmina would occasionally send children to various schools in the Wizarding World, though never more than one at a school. (The Immortals did that for their own protection, not out of any real desire to limit how many of them could go to a school.) The students would have legal status as adults, though there would always be a senior member of the Order who would be the student's guide and would stand in as the student's guardian in circumstances where one might be needed.

"But why England?"

"Scotland," Adam corrected, with the long-suffering tone of a Brit used to dealing with a geographically-challenged American.

Diana grinned. "I know. But still. Isn't there a school in, say, the US?"

"Yes, there's one in Salem and one near LA. However, I'm in Paris right now, back with the Watchers. I've only got another couple of years before I'm going to have to kill this identity off. So, you need to be closer to me than on the opposite side of the Atlantic, and I don't trust your French enough to send you to school there. Besides. It's past time you lived long term somewhere other than this country. So, here."

He handed over an envelope. Diana looked at the address.

Miss Diana Adamson

Order of the Fulmina

Third Floor, East Bedroom

Nash Antiques

New York, New York, USA

Diana sighed. "So, who's taking me shopping for some clothes?"