Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Harry Potter!

Rachel Trent was turning restlessly in her sleep. Strange figures kept invading her dreams, and she kept seeing glimpses of a building with the Dark Mark in the sky above it, and people, running, screaming, crying. A woman with long hair kept calling to her, "Make your decision, Redtailia, you need to make a choice. Accept who you are, or deny every one of the help you can give!" Suddenly, there was another person in front of her, and the sensation of a searing pain across her throat.

A hand touched her shoulder, and Rachel quickly opened her eyes and flung her left arm at whoever had awakened her, striking them hard. She was quite disoriented and couldn't remember where she was.

Hermione Granger held a hand to the cheek that had caught Rachel's blow, and sat down on the floor, dazed. This girl is strong!was the first thought that came to mind.

"Where am I?" was the first thing Rachel said, and the second the words were out of her mouth she remembered. Rachel turned to Hermione "Oh, my heck! I am so sorry. Did I hurt you badly?" Her American hick accent came out strongly.

The brunette held her hand to her cheek. "I've had worse. How are you so strong?"

"I've been playing Quidditch since I was twelve. My position for my old team was Keeper."

"That explains a lot."

"Sorry. I just couldn't remember where I was, and that tends to scare me."

"It is all right," Hermione replied, noticing the bruise that was starting to form. "Mrs. Weasley said to wake you up, and she'll bring breakfast out to you. What time did you get here last night?"

"Right before the cute guy with the black hair got here," Rachel murmured, and then realized she had said it out loud. Her eyes flew open and she stammered to Hermione, "Please don't tell anyone I said that! Who was that anyway?"

"That was Harry Potter," Hermione replied like it was obvious, and Rachel was a ditz for not picking it up.

"Oh, okay." Rachel shrugged, and sat up. "First item of business, Redtailia, find your contacts!"

"Redtailia, what does that mean?" Hermione asked, puzzled. This girl is insane! I don't understand anything she's saying,she thought.

"It's my nickname. My friends back in Utah gave it to me. Where is my bag?" She suddenly turned to Hermione, "Sorry, I have a habit of talking to myself, especially early in the morning. Lisa said it's something I inherited from my mom. Ah hah! Here they are!" She quickly put on her contacts.

Mrs. Weasley came in, carrying a heavily laden tray. "I hope you are hungry, Rachel."

"A little," Rachel smiled gratefully at her, "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley." She dug in.

Once she was done eating, she took her dishes into the kitchen, where Hermione was harassing Mrs. Weasley about the post, and an older girl with long blonde hair was sitting at the table, looking rather bored.

"Are you sure it hasn't come yet?" she pleaded, sounding very close to a panic.

"Hermione, I am sure. The post hasn't yet come today. Oh, Rachel, this is Hermione Granger. Hermione, this is Ron's second cousin, Rachel Trent."

"We've met already," Hermione said briskly touching the bruise.

"Sorry about are you freaking out about?" Rachel asked.

"Freaking out?" Hermione repeated.

"Yeah, that is what you are doing. Why?"

"Because our O.W.L. results are coming today! I know I failed everything!"

Rachel sighed. Oh, boy, and I thought Amy was a freak when it came to test results. Let's see if this also works on Hermione. It always worked on Amy. "Hermione, did you study hard?" She nodded. "Did you do your best on the tests?"

"I tried."

Heaven help me, I can't resist. "Do or do not, there is no try." Thank you, George Lucas!

"What?" Hermione asked. Unknown to Rachel, two more people had come in, a boy with bright red hair, and the same black-haired guy she had seen the night before. They were trying not to laugh as Rachel talked with Hermione, trying to calm her down.

"Please don't tell me I am the only person here who has seen Star Wars. It is one of my favorite quotes. Hey, you had it easier than me. I had to take my O.W.L.'s through the embassy, and my aunt had to tutor me for months just to make sure my education hadn't overlooked something I would get tested on. Most American kids from out west where I lived took the ACT, and so our magical education prepared us for that instead."

Hermione looked at her strangely, "You were schooled in America?"

"Yeah, I'm a British-born American hick. School is a little different out where I lived. There are private schools, like Hogwarts, back along the East coast. Out west, we do things a little different. We go to a normal Muggle school, but people would make sure that all of the magic kids would have the same classes and that is when we learned our magic classes. Instead of English we had Transfiguration, Charms instead of Math, and Potions instead of Chemistry, get the idea? Japanese was the only subject I took with Muggles. In order to play Quidditch, we also had to be on one of the school's normal athletic teams. Our Chasers played basketball, our Beaters played baseball, but all of the girls were on the Drill team, because the drill advisor was also the Quidditch coach."

Suddenly, Hermione glanced out the window and shrieked. Rachel and the two guys followed suit. They could see the shapes of four owls making their way toward the Weasley home. Hermione was freaking out again.

Rachel muttered, "I guess it didn't work."

The red-haired guy replied, "You have done better than Harry or I could have. I'm Ron Weasley, by the way."

"I'm Harry Potter. I think we met last night, but you had fallen asleep."

"It's good to meet you both. I'm Rachel Trent. Is Hermione always like this?"

"No, she used to be worse."

"She could be worse? Not even my friend Amy would have had so bad a freak-out about these things." The four owls landed and the four of them took the letter bearing their name from the respective owl. Rachel took a deep breath as she opened her letter, scanned it and then thought, Whoa, I did better than I thought. An 'O' in Transfiguration, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, with an 'E' in Charms, Herbology, Astronomy, Care of Magical Creatures, and Ancient Runes. I flunked History of Magic, but who honestly cares about that subject? Who can even pass that subject?

Looking at the others, she realized that since they were all receiving their OWL results, they were all the same age as her. I am such an idiot! Of course they are the same age. I think I forgot to pack my brain when I moved. I will need to inform Candace and Ashley to send it with the next available owl. Oh, well, it could be worse. I could have realized this when we started classes.

"And how did you do, Rachel?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Er, I have eight OWL's, three Outstandings, and five Exceeds Expectations. I only failed History of Magic."

"You did better than both Harry and me!" Ron exclaimed.

Rachel shrugged. "I guess Lisa's tutoring really paid off then."

"Ron, can you help me set the table for lunch? Oh, Rachel, this is Fleur Delacour, my oldest son Bill's fiancée. Sorry for forgetting to introduce you earlier."

"'Ow are you doing, Rachel?" Fleur spoke with a thick French accent.

"I've been worse. It is nice to meet you, Fleur." Rachel quickly shook her hand. Fleur seems nice, if just a little standoffish. I guess Mrs. Weasley doesn't care for her though.

The next day, Rachel began unpacking a few things. Since she was only going to be here for a short time, she didn't feel the need to unpack everything. She was able to find her boom box among her stuff, put in a CD, turned it up loud, and began putting clothes in the dresser. She had been moved from the couch and was now sharing the guest room with Fleur . Since she was the only female underneath the roof that didn't have an instant dislike of the French woman, Mrs. Weasley had thought it best that the two room together. Fleur was at her part-time job at the moment, and Rachel was enjoying the time alone.

Harry came in, anxious for a chance to talk with this strange girl. His nose wrinkled at the music. "What is this?"

Rachel looked over at him and laughed, "What planet are you from, Harry? You haven't heard of the musical The Phantom of the Opera?"

"No, I haven't. Muggle musicals aren't my thing." He quickly got to the point, or as close as he felt he could get without seeming like he was prying. "Rachel, why did you move to Britain? Was it for the chance to go to Hogwarts?"

Rachel looked at him, and then sighed, "That question doesn't have an easy answer, Harry. I didn't just move here. It is more like I moved back to Britain. I am a Pureblood; I know it is hard to believe. My father was one of the McKinnons, one of the more respected Pureblood families. His name was Brad Joseph McKinnon. My mother, Allison Rachel, was one of the Trents, another old respected family. They were divorced when I was two months old, which is why I have the Trent name, but my mum stayed on good terms with the McKinnons. You have heard of my maternal grandparents, Will Trent and Elizabeth Irene Prewett, from Mrs. Weasley. Will taught at Hogwarts, but he was well known for being obsessed with Quidditch. Elizabeth tutored Hogwarts students until my mother, their only child was born." She laughed a little, "My grandfather passed his love of Quidditch on to my mom and me. My mom played Seeker for Gryffindor when she was there. She was really good; at least that is what my aunt told me."

"Wait, was your mum ever called Allie?"

"Yes, that's her, Allie Trent."

"She was on the Quidditch team at the same time as my dad."

"Cool. My paternal grandparents are Thomas and Marlene McKinnon. They both were Aurors, considered some of the best in the Ministry. They were also very skilled at Occulmency and Legilimency, teaching all of their children. My aunt, Lisa, was their only daughter. Will and Elizabeth were killed, people still don't know how, not long after my mom got married. It was really hard on her. On Halloween, when I was four months old, Death Eaters attacked my Uncle Jacob's and Aunt Catherine's home, where the entire McKinnon family, with the exception of Lisa, was celebrating. Everyone, from my grandfather to my cousin, Nicole, who was only about two weeks older than me, was killed. Lisa told me that I had been hidden, drugged with a sleeping potion, and wrapped in an blanket, which are the reasons why I am the only survivor. I suspect that my Trent grandparents were also killed by Death Eaters." Her voice had turned bitter, and her eyes hardened, looking like slabs of polar ice.

Harry was shocked. She had lost many close relatives to the Death Eaters, and he could hear the bitterness in her voice. He paused to absorb it, and then asked, "How did Lisa die?"

She gave a mocking laugh, "Compared to everyone else, it was entirely normal. She was driving home on southbound I-15, in the middle of rush hour, when the car in front of her blew a tire, and she tried to swerve, but. . ." She trailed off. "She was watching my team, Payson, play in the Quidditch State Championship. We won, and she let me fly home on my broomstick, because I was so hyper and excited she knew she would never get me off of it. If I had been there with her…" Rachel trailed off again. "I sound so silly, I know that I will see her again, and here I am moping around. It's the separation that's tough. She was the closest thing to a mother that I have ever known. Even though I know she is in a better place, and she's with her family again, I still miss her, just not as much."

"I wish I knew the same about Sirius and Ginny." The words burst out of Harry before he could stop them.

"Why do you think this way? This life is only one step in a journey we all must take. Death is merely another step. I think the reason people fear death is because they are afraid of the unknown. The only reason I fear death is because I know I can't come back to the way I was before I died."

"Did your aunt teach you this?" Harry asked, very skeptical about the views Rachel was talking about.

"Er, yeah," she stammered, "That's where I learned it, and from my friends back home. There was more, but I don't know how to explain it. There is this, though. When we die, we don't stop being who we are. Our personality doesn't change. The only things we can take with us are the connections we form in this life. We will see our friends and family on the other side, and they will know us."

"So, that's what brought you comfort after your aunt's death?"

Rachel visibly flinched at the disbelieving tone of Harry's voice. "Yes. I know you must think I am crazy, but I'm used to it. Most everyone thinks I am slightly insane once they get to know me. I am different, and I don't hide the differences. I am a Pureblood, but I act like a Muggleborn. I am a jock, but I act like a nerd. I am British, but I act like an American hick. What I am contradicts what I do. I am used to it, but I should have expected that people would treat me the same here. Probably worse, because I will stand out by the way I dress and talk, unlike back in Utah."

The bitterness was back in her voice, but now Harry couldn't place the reason. Was she upset at him, or everyone? "Sorry, I just haven't heard anything like you had just told me, can you blame me for being skeptical?"

"No, I just thought you had an open mind."

Harry got up to leave, "Oh, Rachel? We'll be having lunch soon."

"Thanks." She was quite upset, and disappointed. So much for making a fresh start, Redtailia. You let your mouth run away with you, and already people think you are as big of a freak as they did back in Utah.

When Rachel came down for lunch later that day, everyone stared at her. Rachel had on a pair of worn out jeans, a bright aqua shirt, and an aqua bandanna covering her copper hair. The clothes weren't the worst of it. She had pierced ears; one pair of silver hoops was in the normal place in her earlobes, a set of silver stud earrings, and a fifth earring was in the upper part of her right ear.

She noticed the looks everyone gave her, but didn't say a word as she sat in between Harry and Hermione. Harry was trying not to laugh. He thought the look suited Rachel, from the little he knew of her, but most of the others seemed to be a little shocked.

Ron's curiosity got the better of him. Rachel was his second cousin, but he didn't know she had even existed until a few days ago. He asked the first thing that came into his mind. "So, what is Utah like?"

"Er, what?" she replied, looking very off balance.

"Utah. That is where you said you were from, right?"

Rachel smiled and began telling them about where she was from. After about five minutes, she stopped and blushed. "Sorry for going on like that. If you get me started on a subject I know a bit about, I will never shut up."

Harry nodded, "That sounds like someone else we know. What are your favorite subjects in school?" He and Ron both avoided looking at Hermione after he said this. Hermione wasn't looking happy about what he had said.

"Well, English, Chemistry, and this self defense class we had to take," she replied, "My Chemistry teacher was hilarious; he would actually tell us the combinations that would make our concoctions blow up, and then acted surprised when they did. I also took Japanese, because we needed to take a foreign language, and I thought it sounded more interesting than Spanish or French. I was also on one of my high school's athletic teams." She suddenly paused, "Sorry, I am acting like I am still around Muggles. I meant Transfiguration, Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Conversation flowed easily around the table after that. Sometimes Rachel had to interpret her slang, but most of the time everyone got the gist of what she was saying. Rachel was just relieved that she was starting to fit in, and that she would know at least three people when she arrived at Hogwarts. Everyone else was grateful for the distraction she provided and a chance to focus on something different then the tragidies that they had been though recently.

Once lunch was over, Rachel paused on her way back up to the guest room to finish unpacking. She stopped Harry and faced him, "Oh, Harry? Sorry about how I acted earlier. Since my aunt's death, I've been acting like I am permanently PMSing. It has been an emotional roller coaster. Do you get what I am saying?"

Harry nodded, and then said, "I know what you mean. I've been a little like that since Sirius and Ginny died. While we are on the subject of what you said earlier, it did kind of make sense. It was odd, but in a weird way, made sense."

She smiled, "Thanks."

Harry laughed, "You're welcome. Why are your ears pierced like that?"

Rachel touched her right ear and fingered the earrings, "It is a rather long story, but I got the pair when I was seven, and it took me until I was thirteen to get the third. My aunt said she would let me get it if I got straight A's throughout the year in Transfiguration. I did, so she let me. I have a question, who are Sirius and Ginny?"

Harry took a deep breath and began to tell her about the two who had been lost in the Ministry of Magic thanks to him earlier that year.

As the weeks before school started passed, there were more disappearances and attacks. Living in America, Rachel had always been sheltered from the reality of Voldemort's actions. Whenever Mr. Weasley or other Order members brought news , her reaction was always different than the others because she didn't know any of the people involved.

On the morning of her sixteenth birthday, Rachel jumped out of bed, and trying not to disturb her roommate, dressed, grabbed her CD player and headed to the family room downstairs. She donned black pants and a form-fitting black tank top. She hadn't yet admitted to her hosts that she was a dancer, and was reluctant to admit to herself how much she missed it. But this had been a tradition of hers on her birthday since she was eight, and she wasn't going to stop it now. It always annoyed her aunt to be woken up this way.

Harry was walking down stairs, having been woken up by some rather odd noises. He stopped when he saw Rachel dancing. What caught his attention though was what looked like. . .

"Good morning, Rachel," he said.

Rachel gave a yelp of surprise, promptly tripped and fell down. "I thought I was the only one awake! Did I wake you up? I was trying to keep it down."

"No, it's all right. What is that bird on your back?" He was referring to a black tattoo of a bird of some sort with flared wings, poised to strike, about three inches below the base of her neck in the middle of her back.

"What, my birthmark?" Rachel blurted out, and then realized what she had said. "Oh, if Lisa was still alive, she would kill me!"

"That's a birthmark?"

Rachel nodded, "Well, since I have already opened my big mouth, I guess it won't hurt if you know. The birthmark is a Hawk, which I can turn. I am an Animagus, a bornAnimagus, meaning that I was born with the ability."

"That's what you meant by 'slightly unusual abilities'. Is that why you are good at Transfiguration?"

"Yeah. The born Animagi are quite rare, so most people think there are a lot of mystical powers assigned to us. All it means is we can turn into an animal without any markings, and are very talented with Transfiguration. At least that is all sets me apart from everyone else. I keep hearing that there is other stuff we can do, but I think it's just speculation, because I know I can't do it."

Harry blurted out, "Is that the reason Voldemort killed your family, because of what you are?"

Rachel shook her head, "No. I think the only people who knew were my mom and Professor Dumbledore. She told him so he would be prepared when I came to Hogwarts. Dumbledore told my aunt when she adopted me. The reason Voldemort killed my family is because my grandparents were Aurors, and members of the Order. I had nothing to do with it." She paused, and then suddenly looked at Harry, her eyes bright with mischief. "Want to see me transform? My aunt would kill me, but I think I am safe, since she is no longer among the living." She laughed, "I can't believe I just said that. I guess I must be accepting it, finally."

Harry laughed also, "I agree, you are safe from your aunt's wrath. I would like to see you transform."

Rachel closed her eyes, and smoothly transformed into the big hawk. The species of hawk she transformed into was a common type called a red-tailed hawk. She turned her head toward Harry, screeched at him, and took flight out into the morning. He was smiling as she came back in through the window.

Once Rachel returned to her human form, she stood next to him. "My American friends thought my aunt had taught me how to become an Animagus when she tutored me for my O.W.L.'s. Rachel is such a common name and they wanted to call me something else, so they gave me the nickname Redtailia, because I transform into a red-tailed hawk. My friend Ashley was called Skywalker because she is a Star Warsfanatic and a good flier. She played Seeker on our team. Josh was Twit to me because he would never stop asking me out. He also gave me the nickname Brit because I'm British. There were a bunch of other dumb names the magic kids would call each other. It was rather funny."

They both sat down on the couch, chatting comfortably. When Harry began telling her about the Marauders, and how his dad was one of them, she suddenly perked up. "My mom was a friend of theirs. Hang on for a moment; I have something I think you might like." She ran upstairs and was back in two minutes. She handed Harry a picture. He took it from her and stared; it was of the Marauders when they were in their seventh year at school. Two girls were in the picture with them, one of which was his mother.

"That's odd… where is Wormtail?"

Rachel took the picture, flipped it over, and gave it back to him. Written on the back was: We had to force Pettigrew to take this. He was upset because he also was one of the Marauders, and should also be in the picture. I told him I would write that he took it so I wouldn't forget he did it. From left to right: James Potter (Prongs), Lily Evans (Charmed), Sirius Black (Padfoot), Allison Trent (Me, also called Cursed), and Remus Lupin (Moony). Picture taken by Peter Pettigrew (Wormtail).

Harry turned it back over, and looked at the girl next to Sirius. Her hair was cut short, and she appeared to be short, comparing her to Sirius and Lupin who were on either side of her. He then noticed that Rachel bore a strong resemblance to her. "You look a lot like your mum," he told her.

"Thanks. She was called 'Cursed' because her best subject was Defense Against the Dark Arts, and she liked to duel the Slytherins. Lily was called 'Charmed' because she was best at Charms, and as my mom joked, Lily charmed James even when she hexed him. Your mom really didn't appreciate that. Finally, in their seventh year, Sirius, Remus, and my mom set the two of them up on a blind date. Your dad was given strict instructions to behave himself, and not to show off. Lily promised that if it didn't go well, she wouldn't do anything bad to Allie. The date turned out well, even though Lily still regretted being bound by that promise."

Harry laughed. He could just imagine the look on his mom's face when she had found out that she had been set up with James Potter, and couldn't get her friend back. "Did she still retaliate?"

Rachel laughed, "Yes, by setting my mom up on a date with Sirius. James helped her find the loophole in her promise. I know all of this stuff because my mom wrote everything down in her journals. Lisa gave them to me for my eighth birthday, so I would have a chance to get to know my mom. It worked. I feel like I know her. She was also a photographer. She took lots of pictures when she was at school. I am working on scrapbooking them all. I just finished her fifth year." She motioned to the photo that Harry held, "Do you want to keep that one? It was one I liked, so I duplicated it. I think I'll give another to Lupin. Do you think he will like it?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, considering that he is the only one in this picture who is still alive. Thanks, Rachel."

Rachel nodded, and headed back upstairs, "Oh, by the way, Happy Birthday, Harry."

"Happy Birthday to you also, Rachel, or Redtailia." He grinned at her.

"Just stick with Rachel," she replied, smiling back.