Ameria, Amer...ica?

Chapter 1

There was a whirlwind, and then bodies were falling. First, there were ten, and then there were twenty, and the dark wizard known as Lord Voldemort could only watch in amazement as his most talented fighters fell to the might of whatever was at the center of this deadly storm.

The girl at the center of it all could see nothing but the jets of colored light hurtling towards her. She spun and dodged and threw up shields in the midst of sending out her own. Her blonde hair whipped about her face, obscuring her features, but her pale skin was torn and bruised, as she had avoided some but not all of the flying orbs. She knew why she was being attacked, but the reason was a lie. And Ameria London would make them pay dearly for falling for it.

She lost herself in the chaos, time slowing as she took advantage of each millisecond to analyze strategies and patterns. She found none, and continued to whirl about as she battled to save her life.

It was as though someone had thrown a wall up between Ameria and her attackers when a deathly pale wizard stepped forward. His presence parted his followers like the Red Sea, and his piercing red eyes challenged them not to obey. When he spoke, it was clear that he respected her as a warrior and nothing more.

"Now what pesky little mudblood just won't die?" the man snarled at her. To his immediate left, a man with long blonde hair cackled.

"I don't know, but she doesn't look like much, does she?" he replied, notes of reverence lying beneath words of hatred.

The pale man stepped ever closer, and Ameria could feel her heart almost beating out of her chest. She wondered if she was going to die, in the middle of a deserted street, because of a lie they believed. "They never do, do they, Lucius?" his soft, silky, and yet somehow snake-like voice spoke as his eyes studied her relatively thin frame. "And yet, they always surprise us."

Ameria struggled to find her voice, but she knew why she was here. "If you honestly think I'm a mudblood you can rot in hell," she muttered, her voice slightly rough from disuse in the battle.

Red eyes pierced her skull as the body they belonged to circled her. "So you're not a mudblood. Good. It would be a shame to kill someone as talented as you on a street corner," the silky voice came again.

"I know who you are, Voldemort," she blurted, steeling both her nerves and mind. "You don't scare me. After all, I came all the way across an ocean just to join in the fun."

The blonde made a noise of surprise, but whether it was caused by her casual use of the dark wizard's name or her revelation that she'd traversed an Ocean to join their cause she didn't know. "Perhaps she'd like to join us, My Lord," he suggested quietly. "We could always use new recruits."

His poor attempt at humor didn't amuse Ameria or the Dark Lord. "Or we could spill her blood for spilling ours," he hissed in her ear as she felt the tip of his wand dig into her neck.

"I will not be made a servant to anyone," she hissed back. "Not even you."

"Do you wish for death, little girl?"

"If I wished for it I would have it. People have always had a hard time saying no to me."

She had sealed her fate, she was certain of it. There was no way he would let her live when she'd killed so many of his followers and blatantly denied his authority so many times in less than five minutes.

Just as she had heard him begin to breathe out the first syllables of the killing curse, the blond man interrupted as faint pops filled the air. "My Lord, the Ministry are beginning to arrive. We need to leave."

He hissed and grabbed her arm before her world went black, and, unbeknownst to her, changed forever.