Chapter One: vampires & wizards.

The two children looked up at Renesmee with wide eyes. They were a boy and a girl, the boy sporting tidy side-parted black hair and warm brown eyes, and the girl a nestfull of ginger curls which simply refused to be tamed matched with brilliant green eyes. They were both dressed in their pajamas, and eagerly awaiting a goodnight story. Renesmee bit her lip thoughtfully, wondering what story to tell them.

"I know." She announced, smiling at the twinkling eyes of the two children. "I know just the story. It starts with a young girl. Her name was Renesmee. Or Nessie for short. And this is her story..."

***

ten years previously...

***

Four months ago, Jacob told me that I was a brilliant storyteller. He told me because I had been telling a story to Sam and Emily Uley's three kids, Aaron, Ash and Haley, to make them go to sleep since I knew both Sam and Emily were absolutely exhausted. I bet your thinking, yeah right, as if any seven-year-old is actually going to sit down and tell a brilliant goodnight story to a six-year-old, and two four-year-olds. The thing is that I'm not your typical seven-year-old. I sort of passed that stage a couple of years ago. I'm more than human.

The reason is that I am a half-vampire. So now at the age of seven I am as fully matured as I'll ever be, which is more than average. I look seventeen, and I act sort of seventeen half the time. Jacob used to say that the other half of the time I act like a 60-year-old with a stick shoved up my butt. Jacob always did have a way with words.

As I said, I look seventeen, copper curls cascading down my back, my pale face drawn into a wide smile most of the time, my long slender nose sprinkled generously with freckles, and laughing brown eyes like those my mother had once had. I have a nice figure with curves in all the right places, flattered by the designer clothes that Alice and Rosalie, my aunts, shower me with constantly. Jacob always said I was the most beautiful creature in the world.

My name is Renesmee Carlie Cullen. I know, its a pretty ridiculous name, my first name is a mix of my two grandmothers names, Renee and Esme, and my middle name is a girly version of my two grandfathers names, Carlisle and Charlie. However everyone just calls me Nessie for short. Jacob came up with it, and even though my mother absolutely hates it, it sort of stuck with everyone. I mean, who is actually going to shout Renesmee every time they want to call someone?

This story starts when my family moved to England, to a small rural town in the south-west, called Godric's Hollow. I bounced up and down on the back-seat out of boredom as we drove through the English countryside. If only Jacob had been here, then I wouldn't have been so awfully bored. Edward, my father, smiled as he watched me in the rear view mirror. Bella, my mother, sat beside him in the passenger seat, looking out of the window with a small smile.

"Its just like Forks." She said at last, turning to look at dad. "Rainy and very, very green."

"Perfect for us then." dad announced. "The only problem is a lack of large prey, but we'll survive."

It was at that moment that our car turned into the drive of our new home. It was secluded, inside a grove of tall birch trees, giving us the privacy that we needed. Jacob would have loved it. Carlisle and Esme, my grandparents, were already there, unpacking the car together with Alice and Jasper, my aunt and uncle. I have more family then them, but they opted to stay in America. Jacob would have come with me if he could. They all smiled and waved as Edward pulled up into the drive, and cut the engine.

I practically leapt out of the car, and bounced up and down in front front of Carlisle, who gave in and picked me up despite my size. When your a vampire, weight doesn't really matter, and I take advantage of that whenever I can. I'm still the family baby even if I look the same age as my own father. Jacob used to give me piggy-backs practically everywhere. He would have carried me to the ends of the world if I told him to.

"Carlisle, put her down, she's big enough to walk by herself." mum admonished, frowning at me is disapproval.

"You know Bella, technically she's only seven." Carlisle replied with a twinkle in his golden eyes.

I laughed, Carlisle put me down and I tore off towards the house, eager to explore. I however stopped just inside the door, holding my breath as I listened to what Jasper said.

"This is the happiest she has been since Jacob died." He whispered.

I guess you've been wondering who this Jacob is, since I've already mentioned his name eleven times in this story. Jacob used to be my life. If course I had my mum and dad, and my grandparents on both my mothers and my fathers side, and my aunts, Alice, Rosalie and Leah, and my uncles, Jasper, Emmet and Seth. But though I love them all passionately, and they are my family, Jacob was something different.

Jacob was a werewolf. And that is not what made him different, because so is Leah and Seth, and countless of my friends from La Push. The difference was that he had imprinted on me. When a werewolf imprints, their whole world shifts, and their gravitational center becomes the person on which they have imprinted. I'm sure you'll agree that me being Jacob's gravitational center made him pretty special to me. I was his world, and that meant that I was not particularly old when I felt that he was also mine. He was there when I was born. Actually he helped my mum give birth to me. Its obviously not your typical boy-meets-girl relationship. To make it even better, he was pretty intent on destroying me until his eyes met mine and he imprinted. When I was little, he was like a brother, a friend, teacher, and a babysitter, all rolled in one. As I matured, our relationship changed. He became less the babysitter and teacher more the brother and friend. Our relationship kept changing.

Now, I bet your thinking, this Jacob is a sick pervert. Honestly, he's in love with a girl he helped give birth to. But you need to get two facts straight. Being a werewolf means that as long as he phases into a wolf at regular intervals, he doesn't age mentally or physically. He was pretty much frozen as a sixteen-year-old, a very tall muscular sixteen-year-old, but still a sixteen-year-old. I was aging extremely quickly. Before I turned one I looked like a five-year-old, and acted like a twelve-year-old. I read fluently, and often understood more about what was going on in the adults lives then my parents would have liked me to know. My aging slowed down slightly after that, at two I looked nine, at three I looked twelve, at four I looked fourteen, at five I looked fifteen and then I aged normally at a year at a time, sixteen at six, seventeen at seven, and then I stopped aging all together.

Taking into account these two facts, it was therefore normal enough that when I turned six (looked sixteen), Jacob and my relationship took a new turn all together. We fell in love. Eventually we both planned to get married, because we couldn't possibly see ourselves ever loving anyone else like we loved each other. It was impossible.

Then Jacob died shortly after I turned seven.

That was the whole point of the move to England. A new start for me after the death of Jacob Black. I have never quite been the same after his death, which was now three months ago. The once so happy and beautiful child I had been had become sullen and silent. Catatonic almost. Everyone had practically been walking on tiptoes around me, which did not improve my mood. They all said that of course they could hardly blame me for being upset, the experience must have traumatic for me.

I had been alone with Jacob when we had suddenly been attacked by a pack of nomad vampires while we were hiking in Canada. Jacob had killed them all, but not without suffering severe damage to himself, in particular his throat which looked like it had been torn out and stamped on, and he was dyeing from his wounds while I was desperately tried to help him. My dad had heard my mental calls for help, but he and Carlisle had come to late. Jacob had been a bloody mess.

At first they had thought I too had been severely wounded. Until they realized that it was Jacob's blood that I was covered in. I didn't speak for days afterwards. My father, being a mind-reader and all, knew I blamed myself for Jacob's death, and everyone was trying to tell me it wasn't my fault. It was only at his funeral that I really admitted to myself that Jacob was really dead and gone. And it was then that I had began to cry.

But back to the present. The first thing I did when I walked slowly up the stairs, was that I looked around my new room. They had done it first, Alice, Jasper, Carlisle and Esme having decorated and positioned all the furniture before we had come. It still smelled of fresh paint from the egg-blue colored walls. It looked more grown-up then my old room back home in Forks. The one that I had had before had had forest-green walls, with wolves painted all over it. It was what I had requested myself back then, and Alice had done it even though dad had wrinkled his nose at the idea of having wolves on the walls.

My old oak bed was positioned against the far side of the wall with plain crisp white bed on it, and my wolf teddy, Blackie. My uncle Seth had given it to me on my second birthday. It was floppy from frequent use, but I had loved it with all my heart. Still loved it to bits. But at the same time it was a painful reminder of Jacob. It was a russet color, just like him, and the name Blackie was after his surname.

Photos adorned my desk in oak frames, There was a photo of Seth, myself and Blackie on the day I had gotten him. I was dressed up in a pretty red party dress. Probably some abnormally expensive designer dress that Alice had bought,and then thrown away afterwards.

Another photo was of my grandfather, Charlie Swan and Sue Clearwater, at their wedding on the beach at La Push. On either side of them stood their children, Bella with a me on her hip beside Charlie, and Seth and Leah beside Sue.

Beside that picture was a picture of my other grandparents, Carlisle and Esme, together with all their children, Edward, Emmet, Rosalie, Bella, Alice and Jasper.

On the other side of it there was a picture of all the werewolves in La Push, with their imprints. Me and Claire were in the center, with our arms around each other and big smiles on our faces. We had been best friends. Now we were on opposite sides of the world.

There was another photo, which I picked up, almost cautiously, as if I were afraid it would break. It was of me and Jacob, and had been taken shortly before his death. We were cuddled up together on the sofa, kissing, and in the background you could see Edward looking at us with utter horror. I smiled at the memory, tracing the picture of Jacob.

"I wish you were still here." I whispered, before carefully putting the photo back on my desk, and flopping onto the bed, cuddling Blackie close to my chest, tears escaping my eyes and rolling down my cheeks soaking the pillow. Blackie still smelled of Jacob and La Push, woodsy pine and bonfires, with a hint of oil and gas from all his time working in the garage.

Jasper would probably be up in my room in a minute or two to comfort me. Until then I wanted to take a moment to wallow in my misery. I knew perfectly well why we had moved to England, and that it was for my sake. Though I still couldn't understand why of all places we had moved to the little town of Godric's Hollow. I knew for a fact that it was much rainier up north in Scotland.

***

I chained my bicycle near the post office. The sun was shining, so only I could actually go into town, and Carlisle wanted some letters sent off and had therefore sent me off on the errand. Or maybe it was just to keep me occupied. He seemed to think that keeping me occupied was the best way to help me keep my mind off the subject of Jacob Black.

After I put the letters in the postbox, I looked around, taking in my bearings. In the center of the town of Godric's Hollow was a small square with the post office, a pub called 'The Weeping Jobberknoll', a strange name for a pub in my opinion, and a small church with a large graveyard stretching out behind it. In the center of the square stood a war memorial. They were common in England as far as I knew. Every town had one. I made her way towards it, intending to read some of the names around its base.

However as I approached the statue, the air around me shimmered, and it changed. Suddenly in the place of the war memorial stood a statue of a man with his arm around a woman. In the woman's arms was a small baby. Hastily I took a step back and stared as it changed back into a normal war memorial. Once again I took a step forward and it transformed into the statue of the small family. There was a small inscription at its base, and I bent down to read it.

"James Ignatus Potter, Lily Evans Potter & Harry James Potter. A monument to their final stand. To have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. - Albus Dumbledore." I read is a low whisper.

"I didn't know any new wizarding families had moved in around here." a voice said behind me.

I straightened up, whirling around at lightning speed, faster then a normal human should. Normally I was good at acting human, though out of everyone in our family I was the one who slipped up the most, like now. I narrowed my eyes at the boy who stood in front of me. He was tall, a good three inches taller then myself, with terribly messy thick black hair, and bright green eyes which peered at me behind a pair of round glasses. He wore odd clothes. Normal jeans, a red jumper, and white trainers, but on top of all that, a long black robe. When I looked back at the statue, I realized that it was similar to what the people on the statue wore.

"Wizarding family? What on earth are you on about?" I asked with a frown as I looked back at him.

Vampires I knew about, and werewolves, but I had never met any one who had suggested the existence of wizards. Then again, perhaps my family had just not seen the need to inform me of their existence, and I had never asked.

"Your a witch." The boy said bluntly.

"That's not very nice."

"No you don't understand! You can do magic, like me. I'm a wizard. Only witches and wizards can see that statue." The boy explained, a hint of frustration in his voice.

"The only magic I can do is this." I replied, reaching out to the boy.

I placed my hand on his cheek, but for a moment didn't know what to say. Then with a smile, I sent him an image of himself dressed up as merlin, my thoughts questioning. I expected him to pull away, look frightened, run away. Instead he answered my question.

"Well yeah, sort of like that. That's awesome, how do you do that? I've never met a witch who could do that!" He exclaimed in a whisper.

I removed my hand, and shook my head. "You don't understand, I'm not a witch. Everyone in my family have talents like that, but we don't use wands or anything." I sighed. "I'm a half-vampire." I whispered under my breath, staring at the boys face, waiting for his reaction.

His face split into a wide grin. "So what, are you going to drink my blood?" he asked.

I scoffed. "Of course not. My family only drink animal blood." I replied with a mocking dainty sniff.

"Your family? Your a whole family of half-vampires?" He asked curiously, causing me to blush.

"No, I'm the only halfvampire. The rest of them are completely vampires. Are your whole family wizards?"

"Yeah. Actually the baby on that statue is my dad. I guess the reason you can see it is that your magical."

For a moment we both looked at each other, both somewhat amazed and awed at the additions we had found to our magical universe. I couldn't believe we were able to talk so casually together. So easily accept each others differences. The boy suddenly looked nervous and shy.

"Do you want to come over for tea? Then you could meet my whole family?" He asked hesitantly, as if he expected to be turned down.

"Sure. But I still don't know your name." I replied.

"Albus Severus Potter." He replied, sticking out his hand with a grin.

I took it with a smile, projecting my reply into his mind. "I'm Renesmee Carlie Cullen. But everyone just calls me Nessie." For the first time in all my seven years of life, I felt welcomed by someone apart from my family.