Thanks to my awesome beta, BrittleHeart, without her you probably wouldn't be reading this, because you'd be so infuriated with my mistakes that you'd burn your pc. Thanks also to JK for not sueing me for this!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!!!! Well, Monica is my idea, and I own the plot, to be honest. So, I do own one thing, but I'm afraid to say I own Monica; if her father found out, I'd be torn to pieces by werewolves, and then I couldn't write more! If she found out, well I'd been in for a lot of pain anyway, lol!

Chapter One: All Or Nothing

Monica stood on the stoop of number 12; home of the Order.

It was a gray, rainy day, and mist obscured her vision, in every direction.

Vaguely, she realized that her hair was damp, and the air was chill, but who cared?

She was used to worse, much worse…

She firmly rapped on the door and a few seconds later, it was answered by a motherly- looking woman with flaming red hair.

"Hello, dear. Can I help you?" she asked a confused sort of smile on her face.

"The Order is expecting me," Monica answered, in her rugged voice.

"Oh? Well, come in then, no need to stand out in this sort of weather," the woman said.

Walking through the offered door Monica muttered, "Thank you, ma'am."

Inside, the house looked as though it had been decorated by Voldemort, himself.

"Geez, I thought they were the good guys," Monica thought grimly.

"What the-?" She'd just glanced at the row of house-elves' heads that lined the hallway. "Disgusting!"

"I'm Mrs. Weasley, what's your name?" the woman asked.

"Monica," she answered, to the point.

"How old are you, Monica?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Seventeen," Monica said, in a wary sort of tone; she had no patience for small talk.

Annoyed with her hair constantly falling into her eyes, she threw her dark brown hair over her shoulders. She'd hack it off one day; but then again who got a hair cut where she was from?

She had cold, hard, gray eyes, and there was something else to them, but you could never tell what. Her clothes were worn, even though she'd taken good care of them through the years, especially her sneakers. Shoes were important; back in her 'hometown' you never knew when you'd have to fight…or run. The right knee in her jeans was torn, and the Weird Sisters t-shirt under her jacket had slashes in the left shoulder, but that's for a later chapter…

"Oh? I have two sons, that are your age," Mrs. Weasley forged on; ignoring Monica's 'enough' hint. "Have you been to Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes? That's their shop in Diagon Alley."

Monica shook her head; she'd never even been to Diagon Alley…

"It's an interesting place, to say the least," Mrs. Weasley answered in a weary tone; as if she'd had enough wheezes. "Here we are, dear. I'll go tell them you've arrived." And with that Mrs. Weasley went in shutting the door behind her; leaving Monica alone.

Monica glanced around, and then quickly jerked out her wand as a doxy came her way.

"Avada Kedavra!" she whispered, and watched the doxy as it fell to the ground; crumpled. She put her wand away with a swish of her cloak as the knob turned. Mrs. Weasley stood in the doorway, holding the door open for Monica.

"They're ready for you dear." she said, and Monica stepped through the door, and into the eyes of the Order of the Phoenix.

She looked around, and then something caught her off guard, "Where is-?"

"Dumbledore couldn't be here to meet you like he was supposed to because," the guy with the strapped on eye paused. "He died last month."

Monica felt dull shock course through her, "He what?!" she asked wryly.

"There was a fight at Hogwarts, against the Death Eaters, and Dumbledore was…betrayed," said a violet-haired woman.

"Mortally," continued a severe looking lady in a tartan hat. "My name is Professor McGonagall, and I'm his successor."

"Oh, are you, then?" Monica asked roughly.

"All this way for nothing! Dumbledork sure threw a wrench in it all, by dying! It's not like he was one of the most powerful wizards of this age, or anything…" Monica thought, angrily.

"Yes, young lady, I am. Who are you? Albus didn't mention your name; he just said we'd have a visitor, today." McGonagall said, harshly.

"Monica, ma'am," she answered.

"What's your last name?" McGonagall kindly asked.

"I'd rather not say," Monica replied.

"Then we have nothing to talk about," McGonagall answered.

Monica felt annoyance flare up, she started to reply sarcastically when the weird eyed man said, "We can help you, or whatever it is you want, girlie, but you've got to give us something in return; your name. Mine's Alastor Moody, but most call me 'Mad Eye.'"

She gave him the once over. "So this is the great Mad Eye Moody,' " she thought.

She looked around at the other members, and saw the only other face here she'd trust besides Dumbledore's. He smiled encouragingly at her; the face belonged to Remus Lupin.

She braced herself for what was to come, "Guess it's all, or nothing," she thought grimly. She sighed then said, "Greyback. My name is Monica Greyback. I'm Fenrir's daughter."

Mrs. Weasley, who was now standing behind her, gasped.

Please review I do not wish to suffer the same fate as the doxy!