*GASP!* A Twilight story??? Who knew I was capable of that anymore? xD

Haha, I've had this idea in my head for a while, and once I started getting into HP, it kinda left my mind for a while and I just recently remembered it, and had to write it :) It's a completely original idea, so it's not going to be so predictable!

Hope you enjoy, and review please!


Chapter 1

Field trips.

Normally I'd hate it, but this time, I was actually going to Italy! Someplace exciting for once! I'd actually be getting out of L.A.! I mean, who cares about the museum except for the nerds? And I am not a nerd.

But the most exciting thing about going to Italy was that I was going to visiting the place of my birth.

My foster parents, John and Donna Sampson, were your average white-picket-fence American couple. On their honeymoon, they went to Florence to see the sights. They didn't expect to see a little baby wrapped in a blanket with a note attached to it asking whoever that comes across this child to take care of it to the best of his or her ability, and that I was to be named Lucia. My foster dad thought it was way too soon to even be thinking about children, but of course my foster mother had always wanted a little girl, and said if they wanted to have children of their own, they could try later. So, with much resistant from John, Donna took me home.

They never found my real parents. Then again, nobody cared enough to look.

John and Donna dropped me off at the airport to meet my social studies class for a thirteen-and-a-half-hour flight to Rome. After that I would take a small plane to Florence and drive to this little, off-the-beaten-path town called Volterra. This was going to be the best and worst trip of my life.

Why would it be good and bad? It would be good because I'd get to see where I was born (which looked pretty awesome from the pictures I looked up) and it would be bad because my worst enemy was coming.

Misty Walters was the kind of girl that would the type to go, "Oh my God, I broke a nail!" And she was also the type to make enemies for the stupidest reasons. I'd get into it, but I don't want to bore you with useless details.

Anyway, when we got to Volterra, it was straight from the airport to the tourist attractions. I tried to talk to my teacher about just renting out a hotel room or something and he said, "Now, Lucia, we shouldn't waste a good day just because of a little jet lag!" A little? Try a lot.

After a little bit of fooling around, I found myself standing in front of a cart looking at hand-made jewelry and conversing with the woman selling in rather mediocre Italian when someone tapped me on the shoulder; the person's finger was freezing, however, which is what me jump. I turned around and stifled a gasp. The man standing in front of me was just beautiful. His dark hair was falling into eyes (which were covered by sunglasses) and he was smiling, his perfect white teeth shining in the shade. Blinking, I asked, "Di cosa hai bisogno?" (A/N: "What do you need?")

"You don't need to speak Italian. I know you're not from around here," he replied, his voice touched with a slight accent.

How much does this guy know? Stop it, Lucia, you're freaking out… I knew I didn't look like a local, with my white-blonde hair, lack of a tan, and crystal blue eyes.

"Um, alright. I'll speak English." I shifted my weight, feeling uncomfortable. I was getting a bad vibe off of this guy, but I had no idea what it was. It was strangely… predatory. Predatory? Wow, there must be a bed in the psychiatric ward with my name on it.

He held out a pale hand. "My name is Santiago. It is nice meeting you."

I nervously took his hand and shook it once. It was freezing, even thought it was clearly blazing hot. "What do you want?" I asked, a hint of impatience marring my tone.

"I just wondered… my brother needs some help from an American, and I wonder–"

"Listen," I interrupted. "I don't mean to be rude, honestly, but I don't have the time to be teaching anybody anything. I'm here on a school field trip. I can't be traipsing around Volterra teaching the locals things they don't know."

"Please?" he pleaded, taking a step closer. I moved to step back, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me closer with surprising strength. "It won't be too much trouble." His breath blew into my face, and it was the sweetest smell known to mankind; it was so amazing my eyes almost rolled back. "I'd be terribly disappointed if you couldn't do it."

My instincts were screaming, Run! He's bad news!, but the rest of me wanted to follow him. Nodding almost against my will, I followed him. He didn't go down the alley as I expected, however. We walked side by side in silence, and we reached the entrance of what almost looked like a castle.

"You live in a castle?" I asked, astonished.

He shrugged. "I suppose."

"You suppose?" My eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Yes. I change residences from time to time," he replied.

There was something about his voice that was somewhat strained, like he was trying to control himself from saying – or doing – something he probably shouldn't. I was starting to get worried, but there was no turning back now. It was as if I was being forced into obedience, which scared me.

He opened the door for me, and I stepped over the threshold hesitantly. There was a hallway and a door at the end. We entered it and there was a room of about forty people on the other side. My eyes widened. Why were these people here? Where was I? What did I just get myself into?

He stopped and turned to me. "Stay here. I'll be back."

I nodded and stayed still, shifting my weight from foot to foot, back and forth. Santiago never came back.

Instead, a woman with waist-length mahogany brown hair came through the same door Santiago and I came through and ushered us through another door. She split us into several groups and put us into different elevators.

When the elevator stopped, we exited into a hallway where we met the woman again, and she shepherded us into a circular room that looked like a castle turret. There were no windows, just slits in the stone walls to substitute for them.

A man in a long black cloak that was the same shade as his hair emerged and exclaimed, "Welcome to Volterra!" in a soft, but carrying voice.

In a matter of seconds, all hell broke loose.