Full Summary: Bella is The-Girl-Who-Lived. The past is the same, only it was Bella who was there when Lily and James were killed. Bella goes to the Dursley's since she is now the chosen one. The only difference between the Dursley's in this story and the books is that they are not only verbally abusive but also physically abusive. When Bella goes to Hogwarts she finds friends and a loving family. People start to find out about the abuse and demands that Bella not be allowed to go back to the Dursley's. What will Dumbledore's answer be?

I do not own anything originally from Harry Potter or Twilight.

IPOV

Detention the next night went similarly to the night before. Only this time, he asked for the memory that I had re-experienced the night I hit Malfoy.

It was short, but still had a huge affect on me. I came out shaking and wide-eyed.

Then, Snape asked me for my most traumatic memory. I was tempted to refuse, or lie and give him a different memory, but the look on his face told me to do neither. He would find out if I did.

So I let him remove it from my head and place it in the Pensieve. Just like all the other times, we viewed it together.

I was six or seven, sitting on the rug in the sitting room with Dudley, playing with his toys. That was when he was nice to me. It was only later that he started to get nasty.

I was giggling, waving Dudley's plushy mouse in the air. Dudley tried grabbing it out of my hands, because he wanted to play with it.

I didn't want to let it go, so it turned into a tug-of-war match. The match promptly ended, though, when the little mouse's head tore off with a loud riiiip sound.

Dudley's eyes filled with tears, his face screwed up, and he let out a loud and long wail. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia came running in, immediately finding the source of their precious son's distress. Me.

Uncle Vernon came up to me, grabbed me up by my long black hair and dragged me away. I wrapped my hands around my hair and lifted myself, hoping to ease some of the tension. It hurt so bad.

Uncle Vernon's grip loosened when we made it into the hall, and I almost sighed in relief. My breath hitched again as he tightened his grip again, swinging me around. I was so light then, that I came off the ground. He released my hair mid-flight and I crashed into the door, five feet away.

I didn't get back up.

When we came back up, Snape had me sit down.

"Why is that most traumatic for you, Isabella?" he asked after he had seated himself.

"It was the first time Uncle Vernon hurt me like that for something Dudley did. He yelled. Uncle Vernon doesn't like it when children scream like that. It was blamed on me," I explained in a dead sort of tone. Snape stared at me for a moment or two.

"You do know that the way they treated you was unacceptable and not in any way your fault, right?" he said finally.

I nodded, because that seemed like he wanted me to do. Snape saw right through it, though.

"You do not need to lie to me, Isabella. I know it will take time for you to believe it when you say that you believe it. We will work on this some more, some other time."

I simply nodded in agreement again. I could live with that.

"Good. Now, I would like to see one of your least brutal 'punishments', please," he said, pulling his wand out again. I closed my eyes, picturing me being thrown into my cupboard without being hit. I opened my eyes as Snape put the memory in the Pensive and stood to enter the memory with him.

Uncle Vernon was yelling at nine year old me.

"Freak! What did I tell you about not finishing your chores?" he yelled, purple faced, spit flying. Dudley was sitting in the doorway, a hand over his mouth and amusement shining in his eyes.

I remembered, I had finished my chores. Dudley ruined all my hard work after I had finished, though.

"Get in your damn cupboard, Freak!" Uncle Vernon yelled at me. I did so without argument and winced when I heard the lock slide into place.

Time in the memory sped up, to a week later. I was still in my cupboard. Uncle Vernon walked up to the small, slant-y door and unlocked it.

"Get out here and make us breakfast, Freak!" He ordered.

After he walked away, nine year old me crawled out of the entrance of my cupboard. You could tell I was extremely week, but I still got up and walked to the kitchen.

As the memory ended, Professor Snape turned and looked at me. His expression looked blank until he opened his mouth. Then, it was absolutely furious.

"That was your least brutal punishment?" he hissed angrily.

"Um.. Yes?" I said hesitantly. The expression on his face scared me slightly.

Snape breathed deeply a few times, eyes closed, then opened them.

"Alright. I think that will be the last memory we view tonight. Would you like to say anything about how you feel now?" he said with an inquiring look.

We sat as I thought for a minute. I wanted to express my gratitude. I wanted to express how thankful I was for the way he was treating me. He was one of the first adults I had known to ever be nice to me, or hold me. I wanted to be held again, like I was last night.

Finally, I settled for, "Thank you, sir." He seemed confused by this.

"For what?" he asked.

I smiled softly. "For being so nice to me. For not treating me like everyone else does," I answered.

"And wha do they treat you like, Isabella?" Snape questioned softly. I thought for another moment, choosing my words carefully before answering.

"They treat me like, like I'm some sort of unheard of phenomenon. I know I survived the killing curse, but that doesn't make me something to ogle at. I hate the type of attention everyone else gives me. Some people hate me, for unknown reasons. Other people look at me with unearned adoration. You, though. You treat me like an eleven year old girl who needs help overcoming her past."

Snape was completely silent throughout my entire little schpeil. He had this look in his eyes that I couldn't quite decipher.

"You're welcome, Isabella," he said finally. [AN: I feel like I should put a quote here from Roman's Revenge, by Nicki Minaj, but I feel that 'Rah Rah, I'm a dungeon dragon' would be slightly inappropriate.]

I nodded in acceptance and smiled some more.

"It is nearly curfew, Isabella. You are dismissed," he said after clearing his throat. [AN: Case o' wet wipes in case a bum try to touch me. Ew]

"Alright Professor," I said, before darting forward and wrapping my arms around him. He hesitantly hugged me back. I let him go and stepped back. "Goodnight, sir." I turned, grabbed my bag. I smiled to myself as I closed the door with a soft click.

SnapePOV

As Isabella closed the door, I couldn't help but smile. "Goodnight, Isabella," I said softly. She obviously didn't hear me, because she gave no reaction.

I sat back in my seat, determined to just sit there and relax, but I couldn't. My mind kept straying back to Isabella's memories. The treatment she received from her relatives was outrageous! Kept in a cupboard for a week, then made to cook breakfast, after no food or water for that whole week? Ridiculous. Honestly, a Mountain Troll would have taken better care of the girl.

I stood up, took a handful of Floo Powder and threw it in the fire grate. I shouted, "Headmaster's Office!' and waited for Albus to answer.

"Yes, Severus?"

"She's not going back there," was my immediate answer.

"Believe me, Severus. I had no intention of ever letting Miss Potter return to that dreadful place. Is this all you needed?" he asked me with a patient smile.

"Yes, sir," I said with a sigh.

"Wonderful! I'll be by tomorrow morning for the Pensieve so I can view the memories Miss Potter has placed in them," he said brightly.

"Alright Albus. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, my boy!"

I pulled my head out of the flames and stood back up. I stood there, feeling thoughtful. My mind wandered back to the heartfelt thank you Isabella had offered me and I smiled.

She really was her mother's daughter. Always so thoughtful. When she became angry, she acted just like her mother. She had no remorse and could very seriously hurt you.

I chuckled as I remembered the shape he had been in after Isabella had been threw with him. Personally, with the way he had been acting, he seemed to deserve to at least be smacked. Isabella had gone a tad bit far, but she was such a fiery girl, just like her mother, that I couldn't hold it against her.

With that thought, I walked out of the dungeons and toward my quarters. I needed sleep if I was going to deal with all the ill-tempered Saturday detention students.

IPOV

When I went to bed that night, it was with a large, thoughtful smile on my face, thinking of how nice it was to be hugged back by someone who wasn't one of my friends.