Muggle Disclaimer: I created the main character, Lynn, but the world and characters with which she interacts in and with, is solely J.K. Rowling's, I'm just borrowing a few of them.

Witch Disclaimer: Bringing two worlds together is not easy. In my quest, I feel that there are certain tales that must be told, if both worlds are to one day live peaceably. This is Lynn, or rather Bethalyn Blakefield's story. I'm just telling it.

This story begins in the time directly after the Triwizard Tournament, held at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This is the story you don't know, the one that exists between the lines of those you do. I have had the luck to know of this story from one who experienced it first hand. It, like many others throughout history, deserves to be told.

Part One, Chapter One: A Fearful Letter

Fifteen years were just not enough for Lynn. Fifteen years, and it all still haunted her dreams, her every moment, though she had to admit that she hadn't thought of it for years. It always remained in the back of her head, in ever fiber of her being, even if she wasn't thinking about it.

She would never forget...

Even moving halfway around the word, giving up her entire life, everything that mattered, couldn't let her forget. It just wouldn't happen.

So, there was Lynn, a tall and slender pretty 30 something year old woman, with amber eyes, long blonde hair, and a sweet smile that never seemed to reach it's full potential. She was involved in her community, she loved to watch television, and she drove a small, yet economical, pickup truck. Everymorning, she went to work at the Video-mart in the small town in which she lived, from nine in the morning until three, and on Saturdays, she was an ever popular story-teller at the public library.

Everyone knew Lynn, and everybody loved Lynn, even though she lived in her own house, alone andwasn't married; no one cared. The children would line up, Saturday after Saturday, just to hear her stories. They were wonderful stories.

Yes, if ever there was something that Lynn could do, it was tell a story.

Each Saturday, Lynn yould tell the children about fantastical places, people, and things. It was magic, sheer magic, in the eyes of the children. She would speak for hours about unicorns, giants, dragons, and wizards. She would tell about flying broomsticks and witches who could change into animals. And of course, not one of Lynn's tales would be complete without mention of the greatest Wizarding school in history: Hogwarts.

Then, after an afternoon of story telling, Lynn would drive home in her truck, smile and wave to her neighbors, go inside her house and make sure that all the drapes were closed... and cry. This, naturally, was the side of Lynn that no one knew about; the side that yearned for the life in her tales... the life she had left behind.

No one guessed that Lynn was actually British, that Lynn really had brown hair and sapphire eyes, that Lynn Blake's name was Bethalyn Blakefield, and, most importantly, no one guessed that Lynn was a Witch.

Yes, a Witch that had completed seven years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A Witch that had been happy, one that had always worn a big smile enough to outshine the stars.

Fifteen years ago, Bethalyn had been struck with the worst tragedy of her life, and she had fled. Feeling guilty for the death of her friends, Beth had given up her wand, her broomstick, and every magical item she owned. She had also changed her name, her hair, her eyes, and her accent, then fled halfway around the world to a small suburban town in the United States, and started over.

No one from the life she left behind knew where or who she was today. Well, with the exception of one, though she had asked him specifically not to contact her unless...

Albus Dumbldore, current Headmaster at Hogwarts, was the only one who knew where she was, and she rarely heard from him. She only heard from him on her birthday; he was aways nice enough to send her a card, a Muggle card, just to send greetings. She enjoyed hearing from him, though it was always bittersweet, for reminders were always reminders.

In all her years of exile, Lynn had only recieved one Owl from from anyone, other than Dumbledore. It had been from Hagrid, the gamekeeper at Hogwarts. He had sent a letter that had said he had needed pictures of Lily and James, if she could spare some. She had obliged, naturally, since she had always liked Hagrid, but it had been terribly difficult to see all the pictures of Lily, James, Remus, Sirius, and Peter...

She would never forget... never...

And so, it was a day indeed when Lynn came home to her house, waved and smiled to her neighbors, went inside, and stumbled backwards in shock as she entered the kitchen. She had almost, but not quite, screamed.

Just outside her kitchen window, sitting on the ledge, was a large, tawny owl. Of course, it wasn't just any old owl, but one that was looking very disgruntled at her not being home sooner to let him in, and tapping noisily on the window. Lynn also couldn't help but notice that there was a letter clutched in the angry beak that was doing the tapping.

Quickly, and with trembling hands, Lynn frantically raced around the house to close all the curtains and drapes. Once she was sure that no one could see into her home, she opened the window and allowed the owl to hop onto her kitchen counter.

It hooted in an irritated fashion as it dropped the letter onto her marble counter top. She poured some cold water into a small bowl for the owl to drink, and set out some toast for it to eat, before she reached for the letter. She knew from the heavy parchment that this was an important letter. Dumbledore only wrote her on Muggle paper, so to help hide her identity, but this was surely his handwritting, and the parchment let her know that it was importnat enough that he hadn't had the time for anything else.

It was a short note, which made Lynn worry, and it simply said:

Lynn,

I haven't much time, but I want you to be at your fireplace on the Third, at midnight. Our worst fear has come about, and we need to speak. Please be prepared.

Dumbledore

Reading his words, Lynn let out a cry. One hand flew to her mouth, and the other, out of reflex, crumpled the note. She fell back against her stove and slumped to the floor, sobbing in mild hysterics. Oh, she could only pray that she had misread his meaning...it couldn't be...it just couldn't...

Yes, this story may be quite different from other's I have posted here... but do let me know what you think as it goes along. This is just the beginning.