A/N: Okay, so I had this idea after I watched the movie Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. I was having an internal debate with myself about which saga was better: Twilight or Harry Potter. Of course, each has its pros and cons, so in the end, I was still undecided. I still am, even to this day. But anyway, this idea popped into my head: What if I make a story where there's both Harry Potter and Twilight? You know, like a crossover, but not really a crossover…
In this story, Bella is a Veela, like Fleur and Gabrielle. The Delacour sisters will also be in this story, even if their parts are just small (not as small when talking about Gabrielle, you guys can know how much later on in the story).
Disclaimer: Duh! I definitely don't own Harry Potter, JKRowling does; I'm just using her ideas about magic, and Twilight's isn't mine. It's Stpehanie's.
Prologue
(Bella's Point of View)
People say a pretty girl like me must not be very interesting. Apart from looks, that is. My response to this, normally, was a small smile, before I proceed to tell them how far from 'not interesting' I am. I always loved proving people wrong. It's in my nature.
"Isabella!" the sharp yet melodious voice of my aunt was heard throughout the room, probably even throughout the whole building. I counted six floors when I came here. That must say something. "Isabella!"
"Aunt Verdonna," I said simply in greeting. She was wearing her, what I'd like to call, 'business attire', which composed of pinstripe pants and a blazer – no blouse. My aunt is fashionable that way.
"Isabella," she said again. I struggled to not roll my eyes. How many times does she have to say my name? It's not like there are other Isabellas in this hellhole. I glanced at the guy with multiple body piercings in the corner. Yep, no Isabellas here, no one else but me…big whoop.
"I suspect you know why I am angry…" I placed the book that I was reading down, careful to mark the page I was on. I turned to face my aunt fully, sitting up to appear that I was listening, but in reality, I'm not. I've heard her 'I'm mad at you speech' one too many times already, particularly this past month.
I couldn't help doing stuff like this, really. I've tried to convince her again and again that she cannot control my life like this. This is a life changing decision, and I deserve to have a say in this. I am an adult, officially, under my society's standards, and I am responsible – I can make my own decisions, thank you very much.
To prove myself, or I guess just to piss my aunt off, I've been hanging out here. Where is here, exactly? Well, here is prison, where else? I've a friend who works here. I haven't been up to anything illegal, Merlin, no. Frankie was just happy to have me around the place. He said I 'bring light to the gloom in the place'. I never thought I'd here him say that to me. I guess working as an undercover Auror in a muggle police station can get tiresome at times.
"…Isabella, are you listening to me?" Seeing my aunt's vein in her forehead about to pop, I hastily nodded to whatever it is she said; it's always good to keep on her good side when she's reprimanding you. It's a trait I've noticed she shared with my mother.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Very well," she said. She gestured to the policeman behind her, and he unlocked the bars and allowed me to pass through. As I passed, I shared a triumphant smile with Frankie. He whispered a quick good luck to me, before I was out of hearing range. My aunt, Verdonna, was babbling about the runway show I missed. Again, I tried not to roll my eyes. Fashion, I am saddened to say, is all she thinks about most of the time, which is why she dotes on me so much. I'm her star model. I couldn't help it, really. I am, after all, part Veela.
Veelas, a race of beautiful women, whose dance and song can be seductive to men, but when angered, can transform to a bird like creature that can shoot fireballs from their hands. You wouldn't want to make me cross, but thankfully, I'm not a full Veela, only a quarter, having gotten the genes from my great grandmother, Lysandora, and my grandmother, Elisabeth. I didn't know my great grandmother much, only that she adores her family and provided a single hair for her favorite granddaughter, Fleur. It was used as a core for her wand. She then died, before any of her other granddaughters were old enough to own wands.
"Isabella, I pray that you will do your best for this show. It's the show of all shows this summer," Verdonna whispered to me frantically. We were on our way to Milan, the center of fashion; at least, they say it is. I'd like to think that the center of fashion is in our hearts, no matter how corny that might sound.
"I always do my best," I said softly. I don't think she heard me, because right then, the portkey took her away, before I followed suit by apparating.
So yeah, my name is Isabella Marie Delacour.
I'm a part Veela witch and I've graduated from Beauxbatons Academy for Magic at the age of fifteen, two years before average wizards and witches do.
I think I qualify for interesting.
A/N: This is just the prologue, and if you guys like it, I'll continue with the story. Please tell me if it's good or no!
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