A/N: Greetings readers Welcome to my first Twilight/Harry Potter crossover fiction! I warn you now I am no lover of twilight but I promise to do it justice and I will have no bashing in this fic. Keep in mind this story's going to be pretty angsty and The Pack (whom I am focusing on) will take some damage. I decided to use an OC witch because none of the Harry Potter characters fulfill my needs for a character and I WILL NOT make them OOC. Some canon characters might be mentioned but it is unlikely any will show up so don't be expecting them. Also keep in mind I'm not British and therefore don't know much slang or really how they talk:/ I've decided to make all of Lisa's dialogue very formal, like not using contractions, but please correct me if I just make her sound stupid! Enjoy the fic!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter (unfortunately) or Twilight (wouldn't want to)

Unfair. That single word described my life at the moment perfectly. I was being sent to some magicless muggle town against my will, and it was unfair. My parents were dead, taken from me while I had been at school, and no one cared because the war was over and they were too busy celebrating, and it was unfair. I had to live with my nasty muggle aunt, whom I've never met in my life, and it was UNFAIR.

The only positive thing about this whole thing is that I was of age and could use magic; well, I could when no muggles were watching. Actually now that I think of it, Aunt Jennifer didn't know about magic so I cannot use magic around her either! How unfair! Maybe I can inform her that her estranged and now deceased sister was a witch.

I voiced my question to the ministry witch seated next to me on the flying muggle contraption I was being forced to ride. The old bat actually rolled her eyes at me and said, "It was in your mother's will that your Aunt was not to know. You have been told this before Lisa."

I flushed at her patronizing tone and snapped, "That's Miss. Cartwright to you" then turned away and tried not to pout. I heard the woman sigh then paper rustling so I could assume she had started reading or something.

My anger faded and I realized that I was acting bratty. I really couldn't help it! My life was just such a mess right now and it felt oddly satisfying to be able to take my frustrations out on a woman I would never have to see again. Said woman was from the newly popular branch of the Ministry that dealt with orphans like me. I didn't know what it was called, nor did I care much; the end was still the same.

The Ministry assigned officials like Ms. Haselworth (the woman with me) to assist orphaned witches or wizards in finding residence and any relations that they could stay with. After the war, this branch had to be expanded considerably as when the dust settled there were numerous broken families and lost loved ones.

I had been in my 7th year when Hogwarts was attacked and Voldemort defeated, and I had been one of the unlucky students that had to endure Snape and the Carrows. I would never forget the horror that was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Performing the Cruciatus, no, learning the Cruciatus curse was something that went against every moral standard I had for myself. The screams of the children, my schoolmates, cause by my own wand, were featured in my nightmares nearly every night.

Tears started to form in my dark eyes but I was determined not to become weepy in front of the hag so I distracted myself by staring forlornly out the small oval window and wondering how I would fare in the muggle high school I was to attend. I had been told I would attend my final year of schooling at the high school on the reservation where my aunt lived. What had it been called…The Plush, The Pull, The-

"- La Push in about ten minutes"

I looked over to Ms. Haselworth wondering what she had been saying. She seemed to catch that I hadn't heard her so she repeated herself speaking slower, "We will be arriving in the Forks Airport in twenty minute then we will use a ministry car to reach La Push in about ten minutes."

I felt a pang of annoyance at her and really wanted to snap at her for her talking to me like I was incompetent but I restrained myself and settled for giving her a curt nod and slight glare. I was dreading the onslaught of muggle inventions I knew I would soon experience. My mother had been a muggle-born witch who married a pureblood, making me a half-blood, but because my mother had wanted to forget about her muggle past, she and father raised me as if I was pureblood (minus the better than the rest attitude and zero tolerance for muggleborns), meaning I had little to no knowledge of muggle lifestyle.

The twenty minute flew by as I wallowed in self-pity. I had very little possessions as most of my things had been burned when my house was set fire by Deatheaters. My parents had burned with it, unable to apparate because of anti-apparation charms placed on the house by said Deatheaters and unable to escape because the bastards had stayed outside to watch the whole thing, or so I'd been told. It was only after the boy-who-just-kept-on-living defeated he-who-shall-hopefully-burn-in-hell that I had been informed it had been a planned attack; father had offended the Dark Lord by rejecting his offer of joining his service. William Cartwright had been a foolish but brave man, a Slytherin with too many Gryffindor traits.

The announcement that we were descending came suddenly and I straightened, eager to get onto solid ground (muggle technology could not be trusted). The landing created the strangest feeling of floating for a second and I feared I would be ill which only made me more anxious to feel the grass beneath my feet.

I glanced over to Ms. Haselworth and was pleased to see her face was white and lightly sheened with sweat; she looked sicker then I felt. I waited somewhat patiently for the muggles to get the luggage from the overhead compartments (a term I learned from the flight attendants brief demonstration of what to do in an emergency) and let out an obnoxiously loud sigh of relief when I was allowed to get into the aisle earning a look from the elderly couple two seats away.

The next hour was tedious and involved much too much walking around. We had to walk at least ten minutes to get my luggage from another contraption, and then we had to practically sprint to the other side of the building to catch a "taxi" (whatever that is). I had to endure a particularly smelly muggle's animated questioning, not that I knew what he was even asking thanks to a ridiculously thick accent.

Once we had made it outside the airport parking lot (the place was bloody CONFUSING) Ms. Haselworth had the driver drop us off at a random corner. This was even more troublesome as the driver insisted that there was nowhere to go for miles around us and he got "a bad feeling in these old bones" (at least that's what I thought he said; it was hard to make out) when he thought about two young ladies out here alone.

It took a well-executed Confundas, courtesy of an irate Ms. Haselworth, to get him to leave. Once the mustard yellow car was out of sight, Ms. Haselworth waved down the expected self-driving ministry car with her wand and we were finally off.

Arriving in La Push, I was confronted again with nervousness. I knew that all these people would be full Quileute and I, being only half, would probably stick out. I was very glad I looked more like my mother then my father. I had inherited my mother's thick dark brown almost black hair and I've been told I have her facial structure (it was supposed to be a compliment but it fell a little flat). What would make me stick out was my much lighter skin tone; I knew many non-Indian classmates who had gotten tanner then me by just going on sunny vacation.

Overall I was a dark haired, light brown skinned, green eyed, buxom, half British, half Quileute, seventeen year old orphan girl with a bit of an anger problem. Ya, I was going to fit right in. I decided to do some window gazing before we arrived at Aunt Jennifer's and I was blow away. No really. My elbow had pressed down on a button and the window opened, leaving me exposed to the rather vicious winds.

After I figured out how to close the window and gave Ms. Haselworth the evil eye for smirking at my predicament, I actually saw what lay on the other side of the glass. This time I was figuratively blow away. The scenery was gorgeous; the picturesque landscape reminded me of a post card I had spotted at the airport gift shop. I didn't get much time to enjoy the setting as small, shack like houses soon littered the view.

I suppose I was so used to the expensive Victorian houses of my old neighborhood that I had turned snobbish. The reservation was just so hugely different then the bustling streets of London that I was experiencing a not so mild culture shock. My comparisons were interrupted by Ms. Haselworth who wanted to lay down some rules.

"I am aware that you have had some discipline problems since your parents passed away and I will inform you now that the Ministry will not tolerate any outbursts from you."

I rolled my eyes at her but waited for her to get whatever rules she planned to restrict me with off her saggy chest.

"Any magic used for frivolous means is prohibited and I expect you to be on your best behavior as any problems will be dealt with by the American Ministry. I can guarantee you that if you embarrass your country you will be brought back to England immediately and your wand will be snapped."

I knew she was lying to try to scare me into submission. I had had the trace removed when I turned seventeen so I had no fear of being caught. She must have used Legilimens on me because what she said next shocked me,

"Despite what you may believe, just because you no longer contain the trace does not mean anything if you are in a fully muggle area," she gave me a smug look, "Any traces of magic will be easy to identify as you are the only witch in the vicinity."

I scowled and turned my face away. I could only hope that the American Ministry didn't care about me even half of what the old bag had implied. Knowing how yanks were, my hopes weren't very farfetched.

The self-driven car came to a stop in front of decent sized, wooden house. The white paint was peeling away giving the house an old, worn look, though nothing looked in disrepair which was a relief. The dark wooded door opened with a bang and admitted a short, plump, woman who bared an unsettling resemblance to mum. I had never seen Aunt Jennifer before but from mum's few stories of home, I had gotten the impression my aunt was an arrogant, self-absorbed, toe rag. Apparently, she had either changed a great deal or mum had been rather bitter. As the matronly looking woman came at me arms widespread I suspected it was the latter.

I was enveloped in the shorter woman's arms seconds after stepping out of the car. I shot a pleading glance at my sole companion but wrinkly old Ms. Haselworth didn't even glance my way. I normally would have sent an annoyed comment at the older woman but I was cut off by Aunt Jennifer's rambling.

"Oh Lisa sweetie, look at you! You look just like your mother; very beautiful," I sent her a sad look hoping she would be discouraged but it only seemed to egg her on, " I'm so sorry hun, she passed only a week ago and I'm already bringing her up!" At this point her eyes had filled with genuine tears and stared sadly at me.

I was unsure what to do with the mourning woman. The war had hardened me and deaths of the people close to you had been so frequent that you become rather numb to it. Though, I suppose I would crack rather soon. Aunt Jennifer finally got a hold of herself and after fanning her face some she smiled largely at me and continued her rambling,

"Oh I've been so rude, I'm Jennifer but I would like it if you called me Aunt Jenny. I'll help you get your stuff and we can get you all settled in ok hun?"

I responded with a slightly overwhelmed "Alright…" and went to the car to get my bags. My sole possessions were the things I had brought to Hogwarts with me in my trunk for 7th year, my wand, and a few odds and ends I had picked up while in Diagon Alley (under the strict supervision of Ms. Haselworth of course).

When I turned back to Aunt Jennifer I noticed that she was furiously whispering to Ms. Haselworth. I had to raise my eyebrows at the fact that the refined ministry official was looking rather flustered in the face of my Aunt. I caught a few snippets of the conversation as I drew closer and was pleased to hear that Aunt Jennifer seemed to be scolding Ms. Haselworth for her cold demeanour towards "an obviously distraught young girl." I didn't agree with her as I was neither a young girl or obviously distraught, but I was very pleased that the hag was getting chewed out.

Ms. Haselworth did not stay to say a proper goodbye or even review her rules, instead, once all the legal rubbish was over, she walked briskly back to the black ministry car and "drove" away. This left me with a rather excitable aunt who wanted to know absolutely everything about me. Just great.

Well there it is. I would love some feedback on this story and please, not just the "Oh I love it/hate it, (don't) update" but REAL opinions and criticism. I don't really care for flames but I will accept them as long as their justified. Im a review whore and its so very easy to give your opinion, so I really don't see a reason for you NOT to review. More importantly is that I will continue this story no matter what since I've fallen in love with it but reviews would speed me along:P 'Til next time!