The Witching Hour (Harry Potter/Twilight Crossover)

Chapter Seven:

CHAPTER SEVEN:

"Okay, so you're a witch. That doesn't explain why your life is in danger." Jasper pointed out. I grimace.

"That's an even longer story."

"We've got time." Rosalie gave a sort of half sneer and Edward glared at her. I sighed.

"At the moment... well, magical Britain is at war. A sort of civil war, I guess you can call it." I close my eyes briefly, grief twisting through my body. "The... the Dark side is lead by a man who people are so terrified of that they fear even saying his name- we just call him You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You-Know-Who hates Muggles-that's non-magical people, and considers Muggleborns- witches and wizards born to Muggle parents- to be little better. Purebloods think they're superior to us mudbloods," I spit out the word with a venom and hatred that visibly takes aback the Cullens, "because our family tree doesn't look like an overgrown bramble where people search for their future spouses at a family reunion!" I take a few deep breaths, calming myself down.

"His radical views have drawn others to him like moths to a flame. It's... it's awful, right now. Like the Holocaust, in World War II. Muggleborns are being rounded up, killed, imprisoned and worse," Kissed, I think, though I don't have the will to explain that right now, and instead continue with my explanation. "You-Know-Who is a really, really powerful wizard- much more so then most; both politically and magically. His followers call themselves Death Eaters, and they follow him with a fanaticism and hatred that has no mercy."

I can't help a snort here. "To be honest, everyone hates everyone in Wizarding society- it's a wonder that there's only one war threatening to destroy it every generation or so." I say bitterly.

"How do you mean?" Esme asked, a worried look on her beautiful face.

"Wizards tend to disparage Muggles and non-human magical creatures, said magical creatures hate wizards, Blood Purists hate Muggleborns and Blood Traitors, and the so-called Blood Traitors and, well, everyone else hates the Blood Purists."

-

-

I took a deep breath and eyed the awkward, clunky object in my hands cautiously, like I was expecting it to explode and kill everything and everyone in the near vicinity. In my hands, it was certainly a possibility.

"Bella," Charlie says, amused, "it's not loaded, sweetheart." I breathe a sigh of relief, relaxing somewhat, and hold the gun in my hand a little firmer. From what I'd gleaned from Charlie's lengthy explanation, the pocket-sized gun I was holding was called a "mouse gun", or, to be exact, a small semi-automatic handgun that was designed for concealed-carry self defense.

To be honest, the only difference I could see between my mouse gun and Charlie's glock, standard police issue, was their size and clunky-ness. The look of horror on Charlie's face when I'd mentioned that had been incredibly amusing.

"You really think this is the best idea?" I ask him now, not quite sure about his 'Master Plan'.

"You told me yourself, Bella- witches and wizards, cleanbloods especially, underestimate anything to do with muggles."

"Purebloods," I correct, absently, "but do you really think me having a gun is a good idea? I mean- it's me, we're talking about."

"After I teach you how to load it, we'll see if you can hit the target." Charlie says after a short pause, maybe stopping for the first time to consider the lethal weapon he's just handed me.