Now, before I begin this chapter, let me say to those who wanted to see Under the Light of the Shattered Moon...it won't be published. At least, not as it is now. I've begun a substantial revision of it that has removed the WBWL background, as well as Harry being a Faunus, and made Talon a group of irregulars attached to Atlas...which means that, while Blake will be on the canon RWBY team...Harry will be part of a new team: HPIN ('Hyperion'). And yes, aside from Harry, it is composed of canon RWBY characters...and I'd love to see you guys guess who they are. That being said, I still intend to watch more of the series before I go any further on the story.

But don't despair, RWBY fans! I was partially inspired by a challenge by DZ2 ('Silence Will Fall') to do another RWBY crossover. Like the original version of Under the Light of the Shattered Moon, it is a WBWL fic. Unlike that fic, the story, save for this first part of the first chapter, isn't set on Remnant. It's also the first female Harry story I've done for a little while. If you're familiar with how the third volume of RWBY ends, then you might be able to guess who the female Harry is...and she's not a good girl...

EDIT: (13/11/2017) After considering this story, I've gone back and torn out the whole 'James Potter being present at the Goblet of Fire ceremony' bit. Why? I felt that having Neo glare at James before doing her cover story of being amnesic was only going to complicate things. Neo would want her revenge to be a dish served cold, whereas James, if he genuinely thought Neo had lost her memory as Rose Potter, would let his guard down, as would Sirius. It'd make for a better story, hence my rewrite. Keep an eye out for the revised version of the first chapter. As the second chapter is almost identical to the original version, I won't be posting a new version of that...

NEOPOLITAN AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE (ORIGINAL)

CHAPTER 1:

AN UNEXPECTED RESCUE

As the old cliché went, it wasn't the fall that killed you, it was the sudden stop at the bottom. Then again, when said fall was through windy skies lousy with Grimm, and all you had slowing your fall was an umbrella, well, you might end up dead before you hit the ground at terminal velocity anyway. And the girl currently flying out of control through said Grimm-infested skies, lit only by the light of a shattered moon, knew that all too well.

Through an earpiece she had, to listen to any orders from her boss and big brother, she heard their target, an annoyance by the name of Ruby Rose, yell, "I don't care what you say. We WILL stop them, and I WILL stop you! BET ON THAT!"

Ha. As if life ever turned out like it did in a fairytale. True, the girl currently gliding uncontrollably through the air, buffeted by air currents and the wakes of Grimm attacking, had helped in this plan. But that was because her big brother was made an offer he couldn't refuse. And if it meant surviving…well, the girl knew about surviving. Friends and family had a bad tendency to betray you. That was how she came here. Only her big brother, the criminal known as Roman Torchwick, had never betrayed that trust. They had helped each other out time and again.

Still, that Little Red Riding Brat was a good fighter, she had spirit. Hell, even at her most vulnerable, Ruby even managed to force the girl's favourite weapon, the Pernicious Parasol(1), to open, hence her current predicament. Oh, she could teleport, but it was hard teleporting onto moving objects at times, especially one going as fast as the Atlas airship. And she needed to concentrate, a bit hard when you were being buffeted around by the wind.

After the brief sound of a battle, she heard her big brother say, "You've got spirit, Red! But this is reality! And reality is cold! It doesn't give a shit about spirit! You want to be a hero so bad? Then you can die, just like every other Hunstman! And I'll do what is best for me, lie, steal, cheat, and survive!" Suddenly, a muffled cry of pain, and then, a strange, sonorous beat, followed by muffled screaming, both human and not. With a thrill of horror, the girl realised that the microphone, along with the holder, had been eaten by a Grimm.

Big brother, she mouthed. Tears trickled from her eyes, one pink, one brown. She thought, You gambled…and you lost. We lost. Cinder, Emerald and Mercury, and that witch they answer to…they don't care about us. Neither do the White Fang. They've gotten what they want. Hell, Little Red Riding Brat gets to survive…for now. Unless that damn Grimm decides it wants seconds. I hope it does.

A roar, and she was forced to try and kick away a Griffon. Which was somewhat laughable, but it discouraged it…but it also sent her spinning out of control through the skies, her umbrella's canopy inverted. Now she was freefalling, and even teleporting to the ground would end up with her dying anyway. It only mitigated momentum so much, and her Semblance could only do so much either.

As much as Roman disdained fairytales, the girl really, badly wanted a fairytale ending right about now. She didn't want to be a princess, though. All she wanted to do was live, even if the happily ever after bit was optional.

As she plummeted through the skies, she heard a voice speak. An old, powerful voice that seemed familiar. "Rose Potter?"

Irritably, she thought, even as the ground rushed up to meet her, That is not my name! It hasn't been for years!

This peevish thought may have been the last she ever thought, when she was suddenly consumed by a blast of azure flames…

For years afterwards, her disappearance was the subject of considerable concern within Remnant. Many thought she had died. Others thought she had merely gone to ground, perhaps too traumatised by the death of a man whom she was partners with to get up to any more mischief and malice. Or maybe she was plotting some sort of revenge. These concerns were a source of minor anxiety to both sides, though the entity known as Salem merely thought of her as a pawn whose use had ended.

In truth, the mute girl who had stood by Roman Torchwick's side had been snatched back home, to a world that didn't bask in the light of a shattered moon. A world that had abandoned her…and yet even now, had reached out to take her back.

And that was a mistake they would come to regret…

James Potter was not a nice person. In fact, he was spoiled, entitled, cocky, and with an absolute conviction that he alone knew what was good for the sake of Magical Britain. He wasn't alone in that regard, nor was he the only one with such misplaced conviction with money and influence. Especially with his son Charles being not only the Boy Who Lived, but also, thanks to a rather dubious ritual, one of the strongest wizards to ever live. All it needed was a mute near-Squib of a daughter, one he didn't want.

True, he could have arranged for a marriage, but there was something about the girl he never liked. That muteness since that night…and the fact that he knew Lily favoured Rose Harriet Potter over Charles. Plus, he didn't want to give out any more money to the little bitch than he had to, when that money could be better spent on events and bribes. The Potter family's finances had been drained by the previous war, and even while under the influence of Amortentia, Lily would never have dreamed of harming any child. But with Lily gone, and James now having a son he wanted instead of a daughter, well…he had only one use for a useless, mute daughter. No mute of wizarding blood had ever been able to cast spells properly, and it was a stain on the Potter line that needed to be rubbed out.

Plus, he had to admit, if only to himself, he was jealous. While she had displayed no magical aptitude yet, not since the accident, she showed herself to be a Metamorphmagus. She was too damned good for his liking. She shouldn't have that power. She was a mute near-Squib who didn't deserve to live.

So, she was forced to give up her magical core to her brother in a ritual in the Department of Mysteries, and then thrown through the Veil. All at the age of six, as a fifth birthday present for her brother. The Unspeakables he had involved were paid well for their silence, and the Prophet merely announced that the sister to the Boy Who Lived had perished after a brief illness. Sirius knew and approved…but Remus, while he didn't know, suspected. And the fragile friendship they had broken. Not that he needed a friendship with a werewolf.

Of course, James knew that Dumbledore didn't think much of this, but fuck him. He was an old man whose time was long since passed. James Potter and his son were the future of Magical Britain. And he would show them why.

This Tri-Wizard Tournament would be an excellent demonstration of Charles' power. Okay, so at 14, he wasn't old enough to participate, and the Age Line would prevent that normally, but that's what adult wizards were there for. That, and a strong Confundus.

As the names of the various Champions were read out, James considered them. It was a pretty sad indictment of Beauxbatons when the Goblet chose what had to be a part-Veela tart to be its Champion. Krum was little surprise from Durmstrang, and probably knew too much in the way of Dark Arts for James' liking, in spite of the dubious things he had done in the past. And Cedric was a pretty boy, popular, handsome, and worse, a Hufflepuff. Seriously, that was the House where the dregs who weren't brave enough for Gryffindor, smart enough for Ravenclaw, or dark enough for Slytherin went. And a Hufflepuff was the chosen Champion for Hogwarts? What a fucking joke!

He had to school his expression when his son's name was announced. He had to look as shocked as everyone else, even when he was grinning inside. And to his delight, Charles was acting shocked as well. Like father, like son. Good poker face, and good Occlumency skills. Who said Gryffindors always wore their hearts on their sleeves? Idiots like Snivellus, that's who!

Even as a rather shocked and even annoyed Dumbledore ushered Charles into the room with the other Champions, and Maxime and Karkaroff rose to take issue with Dumbledore, James felt triumph. Everything was going his way, and Charles would show who the best wizard was in Europe, if not the world.

Of course, that was pretty much jinxing it. Because something happened that would scupper it.

The Goblet flared blue once more, and another piece of parchment came out. Dumbledore caught it, and then, he paled. "How could this be?" he asked quietly. Then, loudly, he spoke three words, six syllables, that had a chill run down James spine at the sheer impossibility of it. Because it meant that the sins of the past had come back to haunt him.

"Rose Harriet Potter."

Suddenly, in front of the Goblet, the floor seemed to burst into azure flames. And in its wake, a figure was lying, sprawled on the floor. A girl of indeterminate age, maybe a teenager, or a short and petite adult. But she could have been her age. She was dressed in white trousers, a white, midriff-baring blouse or jacket, her abdomen covered by a brown corset. She held an umbrella, broken, inverted by what could have been a gale. She wore necklaces.

Her hair was brown and pink, the pink parts having slight white streaks through them. As she opened her eyes, he saw that one was brown, and the other pink. She sat up, her face (there was no mistaking that face) twisted into a grimace of pain, though no groan escaped her lips. At best, a soft sigh, but it sounded like a thunderclap in the hush the Great Hall had fallen under.

The moment she realised where she was, she was on her feet, with surprising agility, even elegance. But James was not fooled. Beneath the casual, even cocky demeanour, she was at the ready, even with that umbrella, which she had managed to put back into place and close, over her shoulder. And then, her mismatched eyes met his own. And narrowed. She didn't make any move towards him…but he knew she had marked him.

"Rose Potter?"

Dumbledore's voice cut across the Great Hall. He had seen this materialisation, but he wasn't sure he could believe it. Rose Potter was dead, or so James had claimed. Rose had become a symbol of his failures almost as much as Rose's mother…and Ariana. And yet, here she was. Changed, yes, but the shape of her face was right, even if the hair and eye colour was odd. And he couldn't fail to see the glare that the girl was giving James.

On his question, the girl's gaze settled on him. The hostility only let up slightly. She plucked from a pocket what looked like a Muggle device, apparently made of a transparent screen. It looked decades in advance of anything Dumbledore knew of. She tapped on the screen for a bit, before she scowled, and then tapped on it again. A hiss of frustration escaped her lips, before she began tapping on it as if she was typing. Eventually, she walked over to him, and showed him the screen.

On the screen was a simple sentence of text. It read: That is not my name anymore.

Dumbledore blinked. What had happened to her? Why was she refusing to answer to her name? Trying to be diplomatic, he asked, "Well, what name do you want me to call you?"

After a moment, she typed more into that device of hers, before she showed him the message. He had to admit, it was an unusual name, a rather sweet name for a girl who was setting off his instincts for danger. Because he knew there was something truly dark within the girl. And yet, the name truly suited her, especially her colour scheme.

You may call me…Neopolitan.

CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS:

Hoo boy. Neo is a female Harry, she's now in Hogwarts shortly after Roman got nommed by a Grimm, and she's stuck here with the wizards. Or maybe they're stuck here with her…

1. Neo's weapon doesn't have an official name, but I gave it one.