This is a Harry Potter and Twilight Crossover- if you haven't guessed already! Don't get me wrong- I love a number of crossover fanfics but I wished, when reading a PJO/Harry Potter, or Twilight/Harry Potter fic that we would get to see Ilvermorny and MACUSA, instead of having people travel all the way to or from Britain for the story to begin. OR having characters from America come to Britain- aren't there any good British characters from canon around? So I decided to write this one- using an OC.

2nd March 2014, New York…

Adsila stared at the imposing building and gulped.

Okay, maybe it didn't look so imposing. But the old Woolworth building in New York held a magical secret.

She took a shaky breath, her hands trembling, running them through her hair, trying to quash the fluttering butterflies with icy wing-tips inside of her.

What the heck? Was she a coward?

Adsila angrily shook her head and stepped right in.

Inside, she saw nothing of its glory. What a shame, really.

Newly-graduated from Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

I can do this, she informed herself. I can do this.

Yeah, right. But what the heck?

She stepped inside the revolving glass doors. And the sight of it all took her breath away.

There were few things that Adsila had seen in her life that could be described as breathtaking. This was one of them.

It was totally vast. She walked up the grand staircase up to the main lobby.

Covered in gold, emerald, black and maroon, MACUSA's headquarters towered high above her.

There were no floors above her that she could see. Just the vast space reminiscent of a Gothic Cathedral. Seven-hundred and fifty-feet of towering space. Yes, there were levels, but, well, the whole layout was complex, and the levels with the various departments and offices were well-hidden away so no one other than MACUSA employees with the proper authorisations could access them. But that was not what caught her attention. The gilded phoenixes, at least forty-feet high, and coated in gold leaf, rippled its metallic feathers and shook out their tails. Their heads turned towards Adsila and they surveyed her curiously. She hoped she didn't look like something dangerous or remotely threatening, but it was alright, because the phoenixes seemed to reassure her with slight inclinations of their heads.

Adsila took courage from this. She went on until she saw the statues- the monument to those who lost their lives during the Salem Witch Trials.

Several witches and wizards wearing the clothes of that period, all of them different. There were a few young women. A few young men. Middle-aged and elderly were also displayed. And young children.

That was the most upsetting of all.

Adsila swallowed and hastily looked away. Hard to do, considering the statues were very large, but she couldn't stand one thing; seeing, despite the differences to the individuals portrayed in those statues, who by the way, each represented a real-life individual- they all had one thing in common. The utter misery, hopelessness and despair on those faces, including the strain in one young mother, and the utter fear and desperation for reassurance from her little girl, clinging to her mother.

It could never happen again.

MACUSA- short for; the Magical Congress of the United States of America- was known to be one of the most democratic, least corrupt, highly capable, and least-prejudiced in the whole of the magical universe. Adsila was extremely glad and proud. Extremely proud. The problem is that despite a time period of relaxing their laws, MACUSA had once again, after a revitalisation of the New Salem Philanthropic Society or NSPS, decided to tighten them.

Now, things were going from bad to worse. Accalon Gandritch among other hardliners, had succeeded in getting the whole country to vote MACUSA into passing a new law that stated that a great deal of the old laws were being put back into place.

That is, separation between the magical and No-Maj worlds. No magical person was allowed contact with No-Majes unless in day-to-day passing, such as on the way to work. Not unless they had the proper authorisation of the president and the whole MACUSA. No one was allowed wands without a license which was enchanted to bamboozle No-Majes, and which they had to carry at all times. Underage witches and wizards had to obtain their wands at school, and leave them locked up during vacations like Christmas break. They obtained their license with the full approval of their teachers only after they graduated.

Which meant that Adsila had to pass her final year's examinations extremely well in order for her to be allowed a license.

The recent wizarding war that took place in MACUSA's ally, Britain, and many European countries, and a few Asian and African, meant that naturally, there were No-Majes- there in the United States- who believed that all the 'natural disasters'- in the different continents, and the uprising of separate Pure-Blood supremacist movements inspired by Voldemort's (even now Adsila had to remember the fellow was dead and gone, to not shudder when she heard his name) and his Death Eaters throughout the world, including in the Americas, meant a resurgence of No-Maj fanatics, who were the tiniest bit aware that wizards and witches were behind all this. There were more witch-hunts and lynchings, which were deemed as the work of serial killers throughout the country, though for some reason, the No-Majes had not yet discovered that the killings were all connected. Thus, hardliners like Accalon Gandritch took this as an opportunity to separate the two worlds once more.

Witch-hunting and killings were records of the distant past in Europe and most parts of Asia, Africa and Oceania but in the Americas, the horrible, terrible truth was, it was still very much in place. NSPS had undergone a rebirth. And now, MACUSA had instilled many laws, including some old ones, to keep everybody safe.

But why did the president summon me? Surely nothing to do with this mess America is in right now?

Adsila had to ignore that terrible suspicion, as she ended up in front of the president's office.

Her body shook. But she had to do it. She knocked.

Forks, Washington…

Claire," Emily said worriedly.

Claire looked up at her aunt Emily.

She was a beautiful little girl now, Emily thought, and she reminded her so much of her late sister.

She was gone. And Emily had barely survived the pain inside of her when she heard the news. She had lost two sisters. Leah whose boyfriend she had unwittingly stolen and the one she had from birth, along with her other niece.

The only thing that made her rise from her grief apart from Sam was Claire.

Claire who was currently showing a strange ability to do things. Things that did not make sense, either to Sam or Emily who had both adopted her.

Claire was able to make things move with her mind. Things broke, mended, floated or just shifted according to her will or emotions it seemed. Whenever she was distressed, upset, hurt, angry or afraid.

And more. She could have sworn she saw several things. Once, she was near-hysterical when she saw Claire leap from the swing and fly in the air before landing neatly at the ground. She saw the flowers opening and closing. Water boiling or cooling according to Claire's whims.

She'd discussed this with Sam, and as Claire had no idea herself how she was doing all this- only that it excited her- Sam and Emily did their best to keep things hidden from the outside world.

Except that the pack knew. Quil had immediately panicked, thinking that if humans noticed, the likely chances was that government agents would arrive and take Claire away.

And who knows then what they would do to her.

So the Pack and the tribal elders who were in on the secret, were in agreement: Claire would remain completely hidden from the outside world.

But it pained Emily that Claire would be so isolated. So alone.

Well, except for the Pack and the elders.

"Hey," Claire walked up to her.

She was nearly ten now.

Emily sighed. She bent down to look Claire in the eye. "Claire, what did I tell you?"

Claire pouted and looked down. It broke Emily's heart to see the sadness in her eyes. "Not supposed to wander off," she mumbled.

"That's right," Emily sighed. She pulled the girl closer. "Claire… I… I know. But we have to be careful. Until we find out how you can do all this, and you find a way to control it better, then you have to stay hidden."

"I can control it better," Claire said suddenly. She held out a daisy in the middle of her palm.

Then she concentrated. The daisy's petals began opening and unfurling, before closing, and repeating the process several times.

Emily smiled. "That's amazing, darling."

Claire beamed, cheered by her aunt's praise.

Just then, Sam walked into the room.

"Hey," he gave her a smile. He looked down at Claire. "And hey to you, Claire-bear," he ruffled her hair. Claire giggled. "What've you got there?"

Claire held out her flower. Sam watched it open and close several times, before giving Claire a brilliant smile.

"That's amazing Claire," he said gently. "Why don't you run outside and meet Quil, he's dying to see you."

Claire nodded eagerly and dashed outside. Emily watched her worriedly.

"Her powers are getting stronger," she said.

Sam looked grim now. "Yes," he admitted. "Have you found anything yet?"

Emily shook her head sadly. She'd researched ancient Quileute and Makah legends both, trying desperately to find something, anything at all, that would explain Claire's abilities. She found little except for certain things that did not seem to apply to Claire's abilities at all.

Of course, Claire could not turn into a wolf. But right now…

"I'm thinking we should look into the legends of other tribes," Emily suggested. "Other countries, as a matter of fact."

"We can try," Sam said with a shrug.

"In the meantime," Emily shook her head. "I don't want her to live secluded like this. It isn't right."

Sam shook his head. "No," he said sadly. "It's not.

Samuel G. Quahog was known to be a fair man, a highly skilled diplomat and a reasonable person to boot.

The Second Wizarding War was long over in Europe, but he tried not to resent them for that. After all, it wasn't their fault they experienced terror. But he didn't think that anybody from Britain, even the famous Harry Potter, would know or understand that while witch-hunts, burnings, hangings, tortures, boiling, drowning, et cetera, were nothing more than a barely-remembered record of the distant past, in North America, and the South, it was very much alive.

No, Harry Potter and the British Ministry for Magic, or the International Confederation of Wizards dared to call this unreasonable, prejudiced and so forth, not when considerable evidence, including the various testimonies of witches and wizards who were victims, or knew victims of the NSPS, were given.

Which meant that for now MACUSA had to enforce Rappaport's law once again, if only temporary. This meant total separation from the No-Maj world, except in passing, wands were permitted to underage children only within schools and permits and licenses were needed for them to be used to those of age, which meant that they had to carry a license with them at all times.

Until some miracle happened.

He let loose a breath, until he heard someone knocking at the door.

His head snapped up. "Enter." He announced.

A young witch entered the room. She was beautiful, with glowing coppery skin, rich caramel-coloured eyes and glistening black hair. But her style of dress was suitably No-Maj, a tweed skirt-suit, her pony-tail practical, her small handbag tasteful but not noticeable.

He smiled and stood up. "Miss Adsila Sizemore, I believe?"

She nodded and stepped in. "Yes, Mr. President."

"Please," he gestured to the couch. "Take a seat." This would put her more at ease.

"Now, perhaps you are wondering why I summoned you here, and at the same time, why I didn't authorise anyone to say why."

Adsila could only nod and wait.

"Your record is… Exemplary to say the least. In Ilvermorny, Thunderbird and Horned Serpent both chose you, and you chose Thunderbird, why?"

She gave a small smile. "Perhaps I yearned for something more than the daily drudgery of life, sir."

Samuel supressed a snort of laughter. "Yes. And then you went on to achieve high scores in History of Magic, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Healing, Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes and- this is what caught my interest- intensive No-Maj studies."

Adsila waited, her eyes wide.

Samuel took a deep breath. "Miss Sizemore- or am I permitted to call you Adsila?" When Adsila nodded, he continued. "Adsila, there are few people whom I can trust with this assignment. Especially with the NSPS running around wild, with any Scourer descendant fanning their flames. In two months, the four-hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup begins in Argentina and the fans will go nuts if they don't have a chance to watch it live, if they can't travel to watch it because it's too dangerous and the NSPS may notice. Right now, we're dealing with clearing and cleaning any magical accidents and messes that might draw the attention of the No-Maj society, in particular, the NSPS."

Adsila looked grim, despite her nerves.

"There have been recent reports of magical occurrences, none of which are the same," Samuel continued. "This does not make any sense, but they all agree on one thing; it's in Forks."

"Washington?" Adsila mused. Or at least she believed. It sounded like it came from way up north.

Samuel nodded. "Yes, Washington. Reports about vampires arriving and going wild- though none of the descriptions matched those of vampires. Werewolves, though again, nothing sounds like werewolves."

Adsila looked grimmer still.

"And we need to deal with it, before the NSPS notice," Samuel continued.

"I agree, Mr. President, it's a very dangerous time." She frowned. "But what if there are more than magical beasts there? What if there are wizards? Anything that would take grown highly skilled and qualified wizards and witches to control like Aurors? Why me?"

Samuel smiled gently. "Because," he said. "You may be young, but no one has ever doubted your ability, even though you only recently graduated. Plus, how many people can blend in so well with No-Majes, especially during such a time?" He had a point.

Adsila took a deep breath.

"When you arrive in Forks, another colleague will meet you there. A MACUSA employee. Her name is Angela, Angela Weber. She'll brief you on everything and you will stay at her house."

"I won't let you down, Mr. President," Adsila vowed.

"I'll let them burn me alive before I let them harm anybody else."

The OC featured here in Native American (Adsila is a Cherokee name). Now, I know that J.K Rowling has- I'm sure accidentally- offended Native Americans by her wording when she wrote about Ilvermorny, but I'm certain she didn't mean anything by it- after all, her books are about beating prejudice. At least she changed her wording- instead of using the word 'segregation' for example, or saying 'the refinement of wandwork' or something like that (I forgot since it was erased and replaced) which was supposedly eagerly learnt by the Native Americans featured in the short story. Or for the fact that she adapted the Native American legends to fit with her canon. No, it's not the first time this has happened. After all, Selkies are creatures of Scottish legends of seals that turn into exquisite maidens after they shed their 'seal coat', but in her canon, they're another species of merpeople (the ones featured in The Goblet of Fire) that aren't as attractive as their warmer water cousins, the Sirens (again, a part of another country's mythology).

This is something that's very common with authors, not just J.K Rowling and I'm certain she meant wizards and witches acted differently to others of their kind with magical abilities, as opposed to their violent, imperialistic No-Maj counterparts whom they were determined not to emulate. So I'm putting it that Native American witches and wizards definitely played as great a role within MACUSA and American wizarding society as other witches and wizards of different ethnic backgrounds. Seraphina Picquery, is after all, African American and president during the 1920s at a time when African Americans were second or third-class citizens and feminism was unheard of in No-Maj society.