Harry Potter and the Girl Who Never Died

Chapter Nineteen: The Letter Of Truth

It was just the first week of November when tragedy struck. 

The poor girl had detention....
Camellia and Harry met at McGonagall's office, standing patiently in front of the doors to her office. They knocked once, then twice, when the stoic teacher opened the door.

"Today I will have you two write an essay about your childhood. In as much detail as you can remember. It must be twenty inches long. It can even be simple bullet points. Just write as much as you can on your childhood. Now, shoo! Use this table and these chairs" She transfigured one of the many animals floating in the air in cages around her office, into a table and a chair, and gave them a piece of parchment with a quill and an ink bottle. McGonagall also gave Camellia blotting paper, due to her being left handed, to prevent smudging.

"Professor, will anyone else but you be reading this?"

"No. It will only be read by me." Camellia sighed in relief.

And so, Camellia started.

When I was younger, my memory had been very good. I still remember my youthful days in great detail considering the fact that I was barely a one year old. I remember my mother, father, and twin being one happy family. My mother strong and beautiful, her own person, not easily controlled. My father smart and ambitious, mind defined and set, protective of his family. My twin always laughing, not a worry in the world.
Then someone just had to destroy it. His selfishness broke us, everyone, and my twin.
Gone was my mother, and without a trace, my twin too had disappeared.
My father was forced to go on the run, holding the weight of crimes he hadn't wished to do, and made to climb steep stairs as the man added more and more stones in his heavy bag, tripping and falling, whilst the man laughed.
I still remember the day as if it were yesterday. The day my mother died, the day I was taken, by the one my parents called their friend.
Albus Dumbledore. The 'greatest wizard alive', ha! what a joke, he's only just a fraud.
I will keep you hidden he said, oh how hypocritical. Betraying us for power, and to find an easy puppet. He killed my mother right before my eyes, and then smiled at the two of us, waiting in the crib. He looked at me, and then at Harry, and smiled sinisterly and grabbed Harry up. He carved a lightning shape on his forehead and Harry fell unconscious, all the while I was trying to attack.
He huffed at my attempt and simply pushed me aside, straight before his glasses shone with a dangerous glint. He looked at me, then at Harry, and waved his wand only just to make Harry disappear. He knocked me unconscious, for I was just a child, weak and powerless, against a hundred year old git who just found a reason to smirk with villainy.
When I woke up, I was in a basket, tucked in a thin blanket with nothing but a letter. A few minutes later, the door opened up, showing a woman with long brown hair, carrying a boy, just a month older than me.
She read the letter and gasped, her eyes crossing to and fro between myself and the letter. She gently picked me up and carried me to the warmth and that is how my life started, as the sister who never died.

Camellia finished. She handed her essay in, and used her wand to transfigure her chair back into a toucan. She then thanked a dumbfounded professor and left for bed.

~oOo~

Harry couldn't understand why his vision was dark. All he could do was look through two holes tinted green, as he watched his twin sister write her essay. He tried to reach out for her, but it was as if this were a dream. His body, which he guessed he was in, wouldn't move accordingly. Someone else was controlling it, and he tried so many times to get the man out. He had blank parts in his memory, where he could only remember that his name was Harry Potter, an orphan who had a twin who was adopted by a rich family ages ago.
His mother and father died in a car crash when they were only one years old and his lightning scar came from a broken piece of glass. He had a teacher called Athena Gollgnacman. She was old but wise, and was a frequent visitor for him. She taught him mathematics and English, though her eyes always seemed to look sympathetic, and not for the reason that he was separated from his twin, or that his parents died in a car crash, actually, when he told her that his parents died in a car crash, she looked more murderous than the time he told her that he hated cats.

She was the only person who ever visited him. The only other one excluding his grandfather, Albus Dumbledore. He apparently was too busy, and couldn't take care of him.

Personally, Harry hated the man. His eyes practically yelled pride and arrogance. Besides, Harry knew this was the man who took his mother's life and carved the lightning bolt into his forehead. Not that he could say or do anything, because most of the time, he would be in this cave called his mind, where he could stare out into the world through two holes: his eyes.  He gathered that Albus was controlling him someway. So he decided to use his time in his mind as much as possible to find every memory possible of his parents and sister, friends and relatives. He managed to imagine a bookshelf full of memories where he could read his memories anytime.

So, though he was controlled, he knew of what was going on. He knew the existence of the marionette strings Albus was controlling him with, that he had a twin, his father was James by genes but was truly Tom Riddle, and that he didn't belong in Gryffindor. It was as the hat had said.

"Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness. Your destiny lies in Slytherin, though unfortunately you seem to have some twat meddling with your mind... Well then Harry Riddle. You shall sadly be in GRYFFINDOR!!" He yelled the last part out, and soon after when it was Camellia's turn, he looked at her hopefully, wishing she'd join him, even though he as himself couldn't talk to her. So when she walked to the Slytherin table, all hope was lost as to trying to get to know her.

Not until now, where what she remembered of him and the accident was written right in front of him.

She left after transfiguring the chair back into its usual form,-which he remembered from some memories was a year six spell- with tears running down her face. Oh how I wish I could comfort her the boy who lived thought as she ran off. And the moment she left, something snapped in him. He felt his consciousness reconnecting with his body, and he picked the parchment paper up.

"Mr Potter! What are you doing!?" Athena, no. Professor McGonagall asked, alarmed.

He read the essay, ignoring her, and he had tears in his eyes as well. He tried to run after her, but his mind left his body again. Albus had control over his body once more.

Minerva seemed to understand what had just happened, and smiled with hope in her eyes.

Perhaps Mr Harry Tom Riddle was not under an unbreakable imperius curse after all.