If I owned any of these I would not be writing fanfi- actually tbh I would be.

This still counts as a disclaimer right?

Ages:

Katniss age: 17

Tris age: 16

Hermione age: 18

Bella age:17

Mulan age: 16

~The flower that blooms in adversity... is the most rare and beautiful of them all~

Mulan awoke to unfamiliar surroundings. She was instantly on her guard. Had she been captured by the Huns?

The barest scent of cherry blossoms drifted past the barely awake Mulan. Normally, she would have breathed it in, savouring the scent before carrying on. Yet she hadn't smelt that since the Huns had charged down the distant rolling hills, bringing leaping wildfires with them.

And they hadn't replanted since.

Her eyes snapped open. This wasn't home, nor was it a dream. A dream couldn't possibly have such detail put into it, could it? Something was off about the whole situation.

Craning her neck, she spotted a girl to the left of her who had thick, bushy hair and a slight frown on her face. She swivelled her head around the clearing, taking in the sweet blossom trees that seemed so out of place and the other girls next to her.

There were several girls scattered around the clearing, maybe her age or near it, whom all looked completely different from her. Their clothing differed just as much as their looks. Mulan was once again back in the traditional Hanfu, having left behind her heavy armour and her sword, whereas a blonde to her right was wearing tight, black clothing and even had what looked like tattoos. But there was something off about the girl. Mulan couldn't explain it or the strange feeling of danger she exuded.

As Mulan was looking at her, the blonde girl sat bolt upright, seemingly reacting to her strange surroundings like Mulan had. Unlike Mulan however, she first focused on the people rather than her surroundings. The girls eyes darted back and forth, soaking in details and analysing them.

Mulan was brought out of her musings by hearing a familiar voice.

"Girl, did you pray to the Ancestors last night? If so you messed up. If not - why not?"

Mulan smiled fondly at the little dragon, thankfully not seeing the shock the blonde was sporting.

However her attention was drawn to the odd girl when she scrambled up, speaking frantically as her hands searched for something at her waist. Mulan didn't know what to say and in that moment matters went from bad to worse.

On the opposite side of the clearing, a girl with braided hair woke up and, in seconds, had a bow aimed at what were probably hostiles in her eyes. Mulan mentally scolded herself for not noticing the weapon previously.

The girl spouted off what sounded like babble in a strangled voice, waving the tip of the arrow in their direction. Mulan didn't speak her language but she got the intent pretty well - stay the hell away.

The girl's fingers fumbled on the string for a split second as her eyes squeezed shut. Mulan pushed herself off the cold ground, walking around the edge of the clearing to the girl, careful enough to stay out of her line of shot.

Her life had been threatened before, but never like this. Before it had been grown men but this was a girl her age. It was humorous, in a way, just as it would be ironic if she met her death at the hands of an amateur swordsman when she had fought off Shan Yu himself.

Almost like she expected, the girl didn't take Mulan coming closer well. She was almost glad she didn't speak her language at that point.

Mulan attempted to soothe her, disliking the situation. However, even if they had spoken the same language she knew her attempts would have been considered clumsy.

Finally, the blonde walked over and they had a conversation. Although the braided girl didn't take her arrow from its nock, she slowly guided the string of her bow back to the resting position.

Almost in sync with the tension in situation around her, the last girl woke up. She touched her right forearm briefly, alerting Mulan to the presence of a weapon or some object, before she pushed herself up from the ground and walked cautiously over to the three.

The new girl looked towards Mulan, waving a hand in her direction as she spoke in the same babble as the others. The blonde touched her arm to gain her attention, backing off when the newest addition the the group tended, right hand twitching slightly.

The following discussion seemed to involve hands being waved around in her general direction, before the brunette flicked her wrist, a stick coming out of her sleeve and being pointed at her throat as she mumbled something. replacing the stick, she faced Mulan once more.

"Hello?" She said to Mulan in a stilted tone. Mulan simply waved, relieved at least one of these three could at least speak a little Chinese, even if it sounded more casual than what she was used to.

"Now that's more like it," Mushu snarked from his position on her shoulders.

Mulan clapped a hand over his mouth - muzzle? - forcing a smile at the girl.

"I'm Hermione," the girl continued her broken sentences.

"I am Fa Mulan, and this is Mushu."

The red gong-ringer brushed Mulan's hand with his tongue, causing her to leap back as it tickled her in between her fingers.

"This dragon can speak for himself!"

The corners of her mouth twitched up against her will. She shook her head at his antics for what felt like the tenth time since waking up. Speaking of waking up, she needed to find out where she was and why she was there.

The other three seemed to be conversing, perhaps discussing what had happened. Mulan felt a flash of annoyance at the unfairness - though of course it wasn't their fault. She fiddled with her collar, hoping Khan, whom she had forgotten about through the muddled circumstance, was okay. Were her parents worrying?

~Sometimes crying or laughing are the only options left, and laughing feels better right now~

Beatrice Prior was not having a good day, thank you very much. First of all, she wasn't even meant to be alive! And yes, the fact that she had blood pumping through her body satisfied her doubt. Were the visions of her mother just delirium? And most importantly, if that was a lie, had she even died at all? She could distinctly remember the darkness creeping in and her struggle to breath shouting from the recesses of her mind. However, her stomach seemed decidedly clear of bullet holes.

Second of all, she'd just had a bow - a bow, of all things - pointed at her! Who even uses bows these days? And the girl who obviously didn't speak English wasn't helping with circling the tightly-strung, excuse the pun, girl. Tris had been obligated to talk like an Amity to solve the situation. If Christina found out, there'd be no end to the teasing.

But Christina wasn't here. She hadn't seen Christina since… before she 'died'.

If she wasn't dead, though, where was she? This wasn't Dauntless, nor even Chicago for that matter. And these three girls clearly weren't from Chicago either, with their odd clothing and weapons. She absentmindedly wondered if they were parts of other experiments. The raven-haired girl didn't even look like she was from this century.

Maybe one thing she took a small pleasure in was that the dark haired girl with the bow and arrows that were previously pointed at them was the same height as her.

It was a vindictive pleasure, but a pleasure no less. She was so used to being the shortest in the room that it was almost a shock to her system.

And what she really hated about this whole thing? She didn't have a single weapon. Whilst bows, sticks and red lizards were being waved around, she was stuck with her bare hands. Although, her bare hands were well trained, so it wasn't all too bad. But no gun, no knife, no nothing! Tris would have preferred a sword, at best, over nothing, though she hadn't the faintest clue on how to use one. She didn't even have a magic stick like the other girl did!

The aforementioned girls were there but it might as well have been zero for the amount of conversation that was passing between them. At least the girl who clearly didn't speak English had the excuse of not being able to talk. She almost wished she could have the same barrier, though it seemed like it was frustrating for the girl to not know what was going on.

Tris was used to the honesty, though it was an eyebrow-raising experience to hear it from these girls. Dauntless wasn't Candor but everyone there still tended to speak their minds and of course her best friend was Christina. Not even Tobias in instructor mode had been able to get Christina to stop her Loudmouth tendencies. Tris, on the other hand, preferred to lie in situations like these. But maybe it would be worth it to gain their trust.

These girls all acted closely guarded though. Not that Tris blamed them, she knew she had a bad tendency to keep secrets. Once again, she couldn't help but think of Erudite. Perhaps she should have joined them instead, a chuckle resounds in her mind. But no, that would have meant not meeting Tobias - and

that was a thought not worth entertaining for a second.

And besides, Erudite hadn't done much for Caleb. Of course she forgave him, but she couldn't forget the way his eyes looked at her like she was an experiment, not his sister. Erudite had changed him - had changed everybody whom transferred. He wasn't the same Caleb who had helped any and everyone back in Abnegation.

Tris hadn't seen Caleb since… since she 'died'. She still wasn't sure what had actually happened. The only clear thing was that she was in an odd clearing, with odd people who could do odd things. After all, waving a stick and being able to speak another language clearly wasn't normal.

Maybe it was an Erudite invention. But that seemed wrong, as she wasn't wearing blue and she didn't have the stuck up air of an Erudite. Tris knew she was grasping at straws but it scared her to think of things beyond the factions. She used to be inquisitive and she still was but there were things she didn't want to know.

For all she knew, Erudite could have made leaps and bounds in their progress. Tris didn't know how long she had been out. She wouldn't usually admit being afraid - to most that would be cowardice - but the thought of the world passing her by point-blank terrified her. Anything could have happened - it could have been centuries. Her friends could have died. Tobias could have died.

The girl with the stick looked at the foreign girl as if in deep thought. She muttered words in a language Tris didn't know and the girl nodded. The one with frizzy hair tapped her throat with the odd 'weapon', shivering slightly when she lowered the stick. When she turned to the girl and spoke, what came out wasn't English. No, it was the odd language the raven haired girl spoke. And since when could the stick-waving girl speak it?

Tris may have not liked drinking, unless it was for a reason other than to get drunk, but the idea was becoming more and more appealing.

~You could claim that anything's real if the only basis for believing in it is that nobody's proved it doesn't exist!~

Whilst Hermione could now speak a small spectrum of Mandarin, it was basic compared to her knowledge of more simple languages like French.

Some people wondered why no one used this spell to be able to speak every language. It seemed like a boon for no cost. However, it was an obscure spell and only worked for certain languages for short periods, depending on the power of the witch or wizard.

Whilst clever, her actually magical ability was not too much above average so it would keep up for three hours at best. It had especially came in handy in 4th year. Victor wasn't much of a talker in English but he was able to open up more in his mother tongue- not that she'd ever tell Ron, and by extension, Harry.

Ron was a lot of things, but not all of these things were positive. He got very easily jealous, though she did too. It was one of the reasons she had decided they were better off apart, not to mention that her view of him had… changed over the years. He was no longer the child-like boy whom it seemed perfectly normal to have an interest in, but a brother and a best friend.

Maybe he liked her, and maybe she did too once, but hugging him was like hugging family, warm and familiar but with no spark.

Was there meant to be a spark or was that a fairytale ending? She could never tell the difference, not after she entered the wizarding world, a place where fairy tales and mythical creatures were real.

She didn't exactly look like Belle, but wasn't she worth a happy ending? Even if her Prince wasn't who everyone thought it would be.

Now that she was thinking about Disney, she realised what thought was niggling at her. Wasn't there a film about a girl, called Mulan released that year? Looking closer at the girl, she noticed similarities. The dragon, for instance. She could have passed it off as a coincidence but the clothing style. There was a hint of well-trained muscles underneath the thin material, giving away a life of training.

Instantly, her respect went up for the girl. Just looking at her, Hermione would never notice anything strange but she saved China. It was almost impossible to her imagination. Not that she'd ever relied on that much. Logic was far safer, a net of sorts to cushion her from the world. And her logic was currently protesting that this very girl had saved an entire country, defeating a man twice or thrice her size and strength.

Hermione had a feeling she and Harry would get along well. She knew from experience how hard it felt to not be believed. And during the war, it had felt like Harry was just as outmatched as this girl was; yet they both succeeded.

If Hermione wasn't friends with Harry, she would have thought it impossible. But nothing was really impossible.

Except slamming a revolving door.

"Do you know where we are?" She asked Mulan, but she shook her head. She wanted to ask if she'd really done all of what the movie and the legend said - but she couldn't. It was too personal to talk about her own time when they were destroying the horcruxes. She knew not to pry.

"What are your names?" She asked the other two, her voice taking on a bossy tone.

The blonde with the full black garb and a stray tattoo was Tris - which was possibly a nickname - and the one with the braid and the bow was Katniss.

Tris was a pretty name. There was a first year, an aspiring writer, who wanted unusual names like that. She had to tell Veronica about that when she got the chance.

'If you get the chance,' a harsh part of her brain whispered.

Why was she here? Hermione never pretended to be philosophical, she was all about logic and facts, but out of context that sounded very profound.

Looking up at the sky she noticed it was the night time. The moon was big, bright and full, lighting up the clearing and giving the girls enough room to see each other. But the moon was more than just satellite in the sky, sending rays down. Hermione knew the importance of the moon in so many of her subjects at school.

Could that be the reason she was here? It was a far fetched theory and Hermione liked all the facts normally, hence the reason she hadn't believed Harry about his cloak theory at first.

However, this had to be the weirdest situation ever, and being from Hogwarts, that meant a lot.

Hadn't she once fought a troll in a bathroom? And that was the least crazy thing she had done with the other members of the 'golden trio', as she had heard some people in the DA call them.

Some of her best memories had been with that group, watching her friends grow from young children into grim, war-hardened adults. But it had also been some of the saddest times. Innocence had been broken that year, and many new scars had bitten deep into the members.

She hadn't known Colin Creevy well, but his face floated into her mind. He had been so brave.

Neville was another, she supposed. At first, he was chubby cheeks and fumbled spells, yet he blossomed into a strong, courageous lion.

She supposed war really did define a person

~It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart~

She looked down the arrow, sighting straight to their hearts. It would be ridiculously simple, with just a single release, to kill them.

Just like she killed Coin.

He fingers fumbled, eyes shutting in a vain attempt to block out the memories. She didn't hear the steps, nor the attempted reassurances in a different languages. It wasn't until an arm touched hers that her eyes shot open. She swung the bow to the girl in front of her, faltering as English filtered into her ears.

"Hey, hey, calm down, alright? I don't know about them, but I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not even supposed to be here."

She loosened the string, yet didn't slide the arrow from its nock. Better to be safe than sorry, after all. Katniss glanced to the side, noticing the girl in the strange outfit. It seemed like what someone from Panem would wear, but of higher quality and not so… garish.

"I'm Tris."

"Katniss," she murmured, still gazing at the oddly awkward girl, "Who is she?"

"Ah, about that - I don't know."

Katniss frowned, "Well, haven't you asked her?"

"That's pretty hard when she doesn't speak English, isn't it?" The girl - Tris - snapped. She blinked, sighing, "Sorry, I didn't mean to lash out at you. It's just, I'm in an unknown place with unknown people, and I'm not even sure I'm alive -"

"I understand."

She didn't try to offer sympathies, Tris was like her, she wouldn't care for it. She merely brushed a finger against her arrow, lowering her bow slightly. She was hstill ready to skewer her though. This girl didn't seem like an enemy, but if there was one thing she'd learnt over the years, it was to never trust her gut instinct. It had gotten her into a few too many sticky situations.

The girl's large, blue grey eyes reminded her of a frightened animal. She felt that if Tris got the sense she was in danger she wouldn't hesitate to fight her way out.

Katniss glanced at the girl standing on her own. At some point during her conversation with Tris, the last girl who had still been asleep had cautiously joined the two of them.

"Why is she not over here? I'm Hermione, by the way," she gestured curiously to the distant girl.

Tris turned to Hermione, "She doesn't speak English, and I have no idea what language she's talking in."

Katniss watched as Hermione frowned, and looked at the regally dressed noirette. Whilst colourful, her clothes were nothing like the Capitol's. She shook her head as the newcomer left their group, heading towards the 'outcast', as some would put it. Katniss shook her head, wondering what Hermione would be able to do.

She couldn't see much except from her back from where she was standing, yet it looked suspiciously like the bushy haired brunette had just pointed a stick at her throat. If that wasn't absurd, she didn't know what was.

But whatever the flimsy twig did, it worked a miracle. Hermione gestured between the lone girl and themselves, speaking in what sounded like the same babble as the other girl spoke.

Katniss had somehow relaxed a little whilst talking to Tris and watching the other two, but instantly realised her folly and stood to full attention again.

A loyal soldier of everyone, she thought bitterly.

First of Snow, and then she was meant to be of Coin.

But there were much worse things to be.

Well hello there! As you've probably noticed from my greeting, this is no longer Nargie you are talking to. My name is MoonlessGalaxy, or as Nargie likes to call me, MOON MOON. I swear, that wasn't me… NARGIE THIS IS MY PART!

I DON'T CARE! Did Snow care when he hijacked Peeta?

… alright.

Anyway, here's your explanation! Nargie and I decided to write a fic together with absolutely no idea on what we wanted to write! This was originally going to be a parody featuring Bella Swan, but we decided we preferred the more serious vibe we ultimately went with. This is the monstrosity that came out… and will probably keep coming out. Just like you, we have no idea where this is going :)

Nargie is back: We really enjoyed writing this together (I think). It took us quite a long time and it's sooo fucking long.

BACK TO MOON MOON: So sorry for the long A/N, smiley faces out!

They will always win, Nargie...

No

And now to the part that MOON MOON doesn't know about. I just want to say she is literally one of the most amazing people ever and such an amazing writer. Even though we have some.. differing views (smilies) I'm still so happy to have started talking to her with what had to be the cringiest opening message ever.