Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters, ideas and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: In this story, I have changed the dates and instead of Harry Potter story being born on 1980, he was born 1992.

Chapter 1:

Dear Diary,

I grew up in a small quaint little town, population: nearly 7000, where the citizens were quite tight-knit due to all events and parties and celebrations. It is said that the town was discovered later in 1792 by the Founding Families and was named Mystic Falls.

The Founding Families were comprised of five families; Fell, Forbes, Gilbert, Lockwood and Salvatore.

I, however, am a Gilbert. My parents are called Grayson and Miranda Gilbert, and I am the middle child in the family. I have twin sister, Elena who is a few minutes older than me, and a younger brother, Jeremy who is two years younger.

Elena and I are fraternal twins; born on June 22nd 1992.

Elena and I were inseparable; we are the best of friends and shared everything – secrets, toys, clothes, makeup, gossip, friends, everything but boys and later on, a room.

Our best friends were Matt Donovan, Bonnie Bennett and Caroline Forbes.

Matt's mother, Kelly and our mother, Miranda were best friends during their high school days, and so, Elena, Matt and I have known each other since we wore diapers and practically shared the same crib.

Bonnie and Caroline however, are a different story altogether; you see, even though Elena and I are fraternal twins and best friends, we have two completely different personalities. Elena is more compassionate, shy and polite, while I am the outgoing sister who has a mischievous streak, is wicked smart and enjoy causing mayhem. I barely shy away from others and have a bubby personality matching Caroline.

Due to that, even though Elena, Bonnie, Caroline and I are in the same group of friends; Bonnie and Elena got along better and are best friends, while Caroline and I are the same.

We Gilberts are a close-knit family. Other than my parents and siblings, I have an aunt and uncle.

Aunt Jenna is my mother's younger sister who is currently studying psychology at Whitmore College. My uncle John however, is my dad's younger brother who is every elusive, always pulling the disappearing act and visiting us at random moments when he had time off whatever he worked as.

Now Beware if you are reading this entry in my Diary, for my life is a very complex one and it is not all rainbows, fluffy puppies and butterflies.

You see, during my childhood, I couldn't help but notice that odd things would happen around me. When I was four, I remember Caroline and I were fighting over a doll and after throwing a ginormous tantrum, it levitated into the air and into my open and outstretched arms – no one could understand why it happened, and my parents grew worried that there was something wrong with me.

Another time was when I was six, some boys led by Tyler Lockwood, the Mayor's son, began bullying Caroline and I when we were in the playground minding our own business. I got mad, and the next thing I knew, Tyler's hair turned pink. Pink!

When I was seven, my uncle John came over to visit us and even though he is our only uncle, he is my favorite. For some reason, I got along splendidly with him as opposed to Elena – the only thing we disagreed on during our childhood. Uncle John had to cut his visit short and I got depressed. I yelled at him that I hated him and never wanted to see him again, when all of a sudden I disappeared from the house and out of sight.

I was found a few hours later running through the woods at night, scared to death by my parents and Uncle John. They carried me back home and once they thought I was fast asleep they discussed the event that had just occurred in the living room. Unknown to them, I was eavesdropping on the whole conversation; my dad was worried that I might be a witch, which made me scoff since there were no such thing, but it really scared them, and my Uncle John promised them that he would do some research and find out.

But the answers weren't found until a week before my tenth birthday.

A woman with blonde hair tied into a high ponytail and onyx eyes that looked to be around her mid-thirties came over and explained to us that I was a witch. Not some Wiccan witch, but one with a powerful magical core that use wands and belong to a different society where dragons and unicorns and so on existed.

Naturally, we thought it was a joke and a well-crafted prank until Professor Rindaver took out an actual wand and turned our dining table into a puppy and back again. She then informed my parents and I that I had a spot at Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Professor Rindaver explained everything about the Magical World and then proceeded to tell my parents that I had the option to travel to Ilvermorny and back with a portkey; an object charmed to transport witches and wizards to different locations.

According to Professor Rindaver, I am a No-Maj-born; a magical child born to No-Majs, which basically means non-magical people.

And that is when another secret came to light;

I was adopted.

You heard me. Grayson and Miranda Gilbert aren't my biological parents. Elena and Jeremy have no actual relation to me, and Aunt Jenna and Uncle John as well. I was devastated and after buying my school equipment and many other books to acclimate in the Wizarding World, I didn't talk to my parents or my siblings for two months.

I feared rejection from the people I called my family for a decade. And it was Uncle John that managed to persuade me to stop ignoring my family. He told me that under no certain terms am I less of a Gilbert just because of my true parentage. He showed me how much he still loved me and informed me that he had always known I was adopted and never treated me any different.

In a way, I should have always known that I wasn't related to the Gilberts biologically. You see, both Elena and Jeremy have brown hair and brown eyes like my mom and Aunt Jenna, while my dad and Uncle John had sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. The only thing 'my twin' and I had in common was our olive skin tone.

I had the reddest of hair, the color of blood, and glowing green doe-like eyes resembling the brightest emerald in existence. Another thing that was odd about me, was a nasty scar located on the crook between my neck and right shoulder in the shape of a lightning bolt. My parents were always under the impression that it was a birthmark.

When I finally decided it was time to confront my family after Uncle John's words, I was met with a hurt and angry Elena and Jeremy who felt insulted that I actually thought just because we weren't related by blood meant we weren't siblings. I of course felt guilty and apologized profusely to them and my parents.

The story of how I was adopted into the lovable, tight-knit Gilbert family wasn't a good one – in fact, it was horrendous;

Over a year after Elena was born, Uncle John and my dad went to London looking for a missing person, something to do with a patient of my dad's. They drove by an orphanage and found to their shock a bundle of blankets tossed carelessly on the front door. Naturally, their curiosity got the best of them and they parked the car. But when they went to investigate, they found it to be empty.

Thinking that it was merely thrown out by the orphanage, the Gilbert brothers turned to leave when they heard a baby bawling its head off. Running towards the direction of the noise, they found themselves in a dark and empty alleyway and me crawling near a smelly dumpster.

In their words, they both laid eyes on the most adorable, cherubic baby girl with wide doe-like eyes filled with tears, and glowing emeralds gazing up at them almost pleadingly with a bleeding neck due to the scar. Something cracked in their hearts and they grabbed me almost immediately and went to Social Services the next day. My dad filed for adoption and Grayson and Miranda were listed as my parents in an instant. It was the easiest case Social Services ever had, feeling that my birth parents were despicable for how they just dumped me.

Can you believe it? My biological parents dumped me on the steps of an orphanage – and not even a good one, on a cold and windy November night and didn't even bother to hand me off to responsible grownups or even an adoption agency. They didn't leave me a name or a birthdate – nothing. They just dumped me and ran off; apparently I woke up in the middle of the night, cold, injured and terrified all alone and crawled out of the bundle of blankets, searching for human companionship.

And I hated them. I felt a surging hatred towards the monsters that gave birth to me and just dumped me like next day's garbage. But the love I felt towards the Gilberts was indescribable and I would forever be grateful to them. Instead of growing up in the streets or in a dull orphanage were I would be depressed, lonely and ignored, I grew up in a loving and nurturing family that never treated me any differently.

Thinking about the whole situation with a clear mind, if it weren't for the fact that I was a witch, and my parents were most probably magical, I would have never known I was adopted, because I was never treated like an outsider, but like family. My parents confided in me that they never wanted me to discover my parentage because they felt no difference towards me and they didn't want me feeling like a burden that didn't belong or wasn't a true Gilbert.

To the inhabitants of Mystic Falls, I was attending a prestige Boarding School near Virginia for the talented children where I would come back during the weekends only. You see, Ilvermorny is different than other magical schools. In Ilvermorny, we begin our magical studies at the age of ten; we have six years to complete our magical education, and graduate at the ages of fifteen or sixteen. We take our OWLs – Ordinary Wizarding Levels during our fourth year and our sixth and final year we take our NEWTs – Nasty Exhausting Wizarding Tests.

Unlike many Wizarding Schools like Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, Ilvermorny teach both Magical and Muggle subjects, which appeased my parents since they didn't want me to miss out on College and a normal life.

There are four houses at Ilvermorny – Horned Serpent, Wampus, Thunderbird and Pukwudgie. When I first arrived, I was asked to step onto a Gordian Knoton the floor, situated in the center of the entrance hall. Large wooden statues of the mascots for the four houses faced me, and that, combined withbeing the epicenter for the older students, all of whom were congregated together and intensely watching me in silence from a circular balcony on the floor above, well, frankly speaking, the experience had me downright intimidated.

But then, the most extraordinary happenstance occurred! With me! An incident that was such a rare feat, it was said to happen once in a generation… The moment I stepped onto the Gordian Knot, all four carving promptly reacted… and simultaneously too! All fourhouses wanted me in their House! The crystal embedded in the Horned Serpent's forehead glowed, the Wampus roared, the Thunderbird beat its wings, and the Pukwudgie raised its arrow.

The notable individual, who shared such an honor, was the Magical Congress's President during the 1920s, Seraphina Picquery. However unlike her, I didn't pick the Horned Serpent, but the Wampus. While I had traits of all four houses, being regarded as a warrior was an alluring prospect… and I guess I always knew, even at the age of 10, that when it comes to protecting my friends and family, I needed to be first and formost, a fierce warrior. So yeah… Go Wampus!

I spent six wonderful years studying at Ilvermorny and made many friends and connections; I befriended werewolves and vampires, Veelas and Sirens, Purebloods, Halfbloods and No-Maj-borns. America isn't prejudiced like Britain and most of Europe – thank god for that.

My magical classes were: Herbology – the study of magical plants and herbs and their purpose, Potions, History of Magic, Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Astrology, Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes and Flying. My muggle classes were Algebra and Geometry, English, Spanish, Latin, History, Chemistry, Biology, Physics and Physical Education.

We were given options to study difficult subjects once we were in our fifth year and take the NEWTs for them and I took Dueling, Healing and Dark Arts.

I may sound like a nerd, but really, I'm not. I am just incredibly ambitious. Like I said before, I am a very outgoing person and quite popular in Ilvermorny and Mystic Falls, but I want to be the best, and so I took many subjects and studied my damn hardest and ended up achieving one of the top grades at Ilvermorny with O's in every single subject I took.

A small part inside of me, a secret part that was concealed deftly, wanted to show my biological parents that I was smart and didn't need them, and if they ever found out about me, that they would be ashamed of their actions and of giving me up. I wanted to show them that even though I was raised by non-magicals, I didn't need them in my life.

Another discovery about me was revealed during my sixth and final year during Potions class. We were asked to create a Hereditary Potion, an extremely difficult potion to brew with many complications. Only two in the class succeeded, and surprise, surprise, I was one of them.

The potion does not lie and could not give false results. So when I found out who my biological parents were, I was frozen in a state of shock and asked Headmaster Fontaine that I wanted to skip the rest of the week and visit my parents.

James and Lily Potter were my biological parents.

The freaking Potters that is famous around the Wizarding World. The fucking family of the light was my biological parents; who ever expected them of all people to dump a magical child on the streets like they were yesterday's trash?

Why are they famous, you ask? Well, their precious son, Harold Potter, who as it turns out is my fraternal twin ironically enough, is the Boy-Who-Lived. It was a well-known fact around the globe that on October 31st 1992 on Halloween night, The Dark Lord, Voldemort who was trying to takeover Magical Britain and Europe, visited the Potters place at Godric's Hollow. He dueled with James Potter and rendered him unconscious before going upstairs to the nursery were Lily Potter had barricaded herself with twins Harold and Rose Potter.

Voldemort ignored Lily Potter's pleas to kill her instead and immobilized her. He then turned his wand to Rose Potter first and killed her instantly with the Killing Curse, before turning his wand to Harold. A miracle happened, and the curse rebounded, defeating Voldemort instead who fled in his wraith form and lived as a spirit somewhere unknown.

Books were written and newspapers were printed of that night and the tragedy that befell the Potters; with one child hailed as the savior and the other dead at the hands of Voldemort at only fifteen months old.

But it was a lie.

Due to the Hereditary Potion that I brewed, the Potters darkest secret was revealed; they faked my death and dumped me at an orphanage, and I felt rage bubble up inside of me. And believe me, I wasn't the only one; my family was outraged with my discovery – but thankfully all the precautions were already made when the adopted me as a Gilbert.

Since my dad was a doctor at Mystic Falls General, Grayson and Miranda Gilbert were enlisted as my biological parents, and social services in Britain made an ironclad contract along with adoption papers that could never be broken. I am also registered as an American Citizen in the Magical and No-Maj communities, and not the Potters nor anyone else could ever take me away, not without receiving time in prison or paying a hefty fine – not that they would want to by the sounds of their actions.

I ended up eating my words.

After I graduated from Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and passed my Apparition Tests (the Magical Congress of the United States of America allowed their citizens to apparate legally at 16 years of age), a letter was delivered to me by the President of MACUSA –a fair and honorable wizard by the name of Gregory Bane, asking for a very important meeting with me and my parents.

Albus Dumbledore the greatest wizard and leader of the light had desperately arranged to have a meeting with me. Apparently he and the Potters were searching high and low for their missing daughter they had allegedly pronounced dead to the world.

Why? It's quite hilarious and ironic if you think about it.

The night when Voldemort attacked Godric's Hollow and hailed Harold Potter as the Boy-Who-Lived, they made a grand mistake that ended up biting them in the ass. Because Harold did not defeat Voldemort … I did.

Talk about Karma – she really is a bitch.

Two years ago during Harold's fourth year at Hogwarts, he was illegally entered into the Triwizard Tournament where he was forced to compete. During the Third Task, he was whisked away to a graveyard in Little Hangleton and was lucky enough to gain himself first row seats to Voldemort's resurrection – note the sarcasm.

Voldemort wasn't pleased with the fact that he had to forcibly take blood from him, but the British Wizarding Community didn't find out the reason for his rage until the end of Harold's fifth year – he wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived.

Voldemort took the greatest pleasure in announcing to the world that it was little Rose Potter that defeated him and not Harold Potter who did nothing but cry in his cot, while I transported myself to block the Killing Curse that was originally cast on him.

And when his spirit fled, I was very much alive.

The lightning bolt scar on Harold's forehead was nothing more than a cut from the splintered wood that fell onto him from the destroyed and burning nursery. As it turns out, when the Killing Curse rebounded, dark magic remained around the room, engraining itself into the wood and that was why Albus Dumbledore and the Potters assumed him to be the savior, feeling the dark energy of the Killing Curse on him.

They spent a year searching for my whereabouts while they paid many people off for their criminal offense – who knew it was illegal to fake your daughter's death … uh, everyone, duh!

Albus Dumbledore had the gall to demand I return back to the Potters and play happy family with them while I do my duty and help them get rid of Voldemort once and for all. My parents naturally refused and the old fool thought that conveying a prophecy made before my birth would sway me.

Naturally, I told him quite crudely to fuck off, and my parents didn't even bother to berate me for my language.

But it was when Dumbledore threatened my family and told them that he could have them imprisoned for kidnapping a baby did President Bane finally interfere. He told the old codger that I was an American citizen and the Gilberts had legalized the papers for adoption and all the contracts were ironclad.

And LEGAL!

If only that was the last I would hear from the British Magical Community …

After graduating from Ilvermorny, my parents enrolled me at Mystic Falls High School since I wanted to graduate with my sisters and friends now that my magical education was over. I enjoyed the year immensely and ignored the many letters from Albus Dumbledore – James and Lily Potter didn't dare to make contact with me, which was actually smart of them.

It was when my alleged godfather Sirius Black, along with his wife Marlene McKinnon travelled down to Virginia to corner and convince me, did I retaliate, having had enough of the bastards that actually thought I owed them when all they did was throw me away like garbage.

I drafted a letter and personally sent it to President Bane who became really good friends with my family and asked that he publish it all around the world for every country to read with their morning coffee.

I announced that I was neutral in the war between Voldemort and the light side, and I wanted to take no part in it. I promised that I wouldn't attack Voldemort or his Death Eaters as long as they stay away from my family and friends and leave me the hell alone.

That caused a backlash within the magical community in Britain, but I cared not. They were the ones that wiped their hands clean of me when they assumed Harold to be the Boy-Who-Lived and threw me away.

But events began to unfold after that. Voldemort was thrilled with me butting out of the war, and so, the Potters were in danger. Imagine my surprise and outright anger when Sheriff Liz Forbes informed my parents that two families were moving in to Mystic Falls.

Who? I'll tell you who.

The Potters and the Blacks.

According to President Bane, the Potters lives were in danger and they needed to hide Harold from Voldemort who took my neutrality as permission to kill my so-called biological family. The Potters moved in to the manor in front of the Salvatore Boarding House, while the Blacks moved into the manor in front of my house.

But when they finally moved in, I didn't have to try and avoid them – for tragedy struck my family.

On May 23rd, 2009, Elena and I were invited to a party by the woods, and even though it was family night, we were desperate to miss one night and attend. Our boyfriends, Matt and Tyler – yes, I ended up dating that bully – begged us to go with them and after many arguments and tantrums shook the Gilbert Household, our parents complied.

Elena fought with Matt and desperate to leave the party, she wasn't thinking clear enough to ask me for a ride back – according to her, she didn't want to be a bother. She didn't ask Bonnie, Caroline or even Matt for a ride. Instead, she called our parents to pick her up.

Dad lost control of the car and slipped over the wet road, causing the car to drive over the Wickery Bridge, and submerge.

Elena was the only one to survive the accident, and it was a miracle; her body was located by the shore. They said that she somehow swam out of the car, saving her life. She woke up in the hospital and I was the first person she saw and she didn't have a memory of swimming out of the car. The last thing she remembered was the car driving off the bridge before she blacked out.

Elena, Jeremy and I were pardoned from attending the last month of school and we spent our time mourning in our respective rooms ever since the funeral.

I lost my dad, my mom, my happy domestic life.

Everything is different know. And to make things better, my fucked up biological parents moved in to town and I wanted nothing more than to kick them out and kill them with my bare hands.

Couldn't they find a safe house far, far, far away from me?

With the death of our parents, Jenna became our legal guardian and moved in with us to take care of three teenagers. Elena broke up with Matt, became introverted and spent all her time visiting our parents' graves and writing in her diary. Jeremy turned to drugs and Vicky Donovan, the Queen of drug-addicts in this town.

I? I broke up with Tyler. I drowned myself in alcohol and boys. I buried myself in parties. I started public smoking. I became very wild, trying my hardest to ignore my surroundings and how fucked up my life now was.

My biological parents moved in, and my actual parents died – how fucked up is that. Am I the only one that sees the irony?

So here you have it. I summarized sixteen years of my life in around eight pages of my Diary.

My mother bought me a Diary every year, hoping that I would share her and Elena's mutual love for writing. Mom also told me that writing everything down and getting everything off my chest was good for me and therapeutic.

I scoffed at that and told her I didn't need to hash out my feelings by putting pen and paper together.

But now with my parents dead, I decided to respect my mom's wish and start writing in the Diaries she had continuously bought me. And guess what? Even though I got everything off my chest, I don't feel better, because no matter how many pages I fill, my parents are still dead.

But I will respect mom's wish and continue this through. I will write all my feelings, and woes in this Diary; all my thoughts and the fucked up events that would occur next in my life.

Tomorrow is the first day of junior year and I am not looking forward to it. But life must go on – I cannot hide in my room forever and depart only when there is a party to attend and when I run out of alcohol from my trusty and well-hidden stash.

Well, that is all folks. I hope you enjoyed my rambling verbal diarrhea.

Oh, I forgot; I never mentioned my name.

My name is Ember Gilbert, and this is my Diaries.

A/N: Please be honest. This idea just popped in my head and I had to write it through.

What do you all think? Should I continue it? If yes, then the next chapter will be uploaded tomorrow.

R&R.