Hey guys! So, with this chapter comes a couple of things. There will be another point of view in this chapter, one I felt was important to bring in. There is a certain character making an entrance in this chapter as well, and I really hope I do him justice as the story continues. I'm going to apologize ahead of time for the cliffhanger at the end of this chapter, but I wanted to make sure the reveal of that night is its own. I'll try to make sure the next chapter is up within a week so you don't have to wait for forever to find out. And without further ado, please enjoy.


It didn't take long for students to start throwing cheap shots at the younger Slytherins. It was mostly Gryffindors, and they were only little jinxes and hexes, but the younger Slytherins started clinging to us older students very quickly. None of us protested, just tucked them under arm and walked them to class. We all accepted the loss of house points whenever we were late to our own classes. Safety was more important than points.

In the first week after Mrs. Norris was petrified there were at least eight attacks against Slytherins. Quite a few of the professors took points away when they saw, but not a single move was made by the headmaster to discourage what was happening. We all knew, if another petrification took place, the attacks would just get worse. It got to the point where most Slytherins were looking over their shoulders at all times. None of us felt safe in the school anymore.

The second Monday after Halloween the news spread like wildfire. A Gryffindor first year had been petrified and was in the hospital wing. The cheap shots were the least of our worries now. We flocked to our first and second years to protect them, and those of us in third, fourth, and fifth year went nowhere alone if we could avoid it. I tried really hard not to think of what could happen if any of us got caught in an all-out duel.

I was unfortunate enough to be the first Slytherin caught alone in the halls. It was two weeks after that first year was petrified, nearing the end of November. I'd stayed behind in Ancient Runes to ask Professor Babbling something about a translation I was looking over. Graham didn't take the class and Adrian had been forced to leave in a rush because Flint was forcing extra practice for the match against Ravenclaw. I didn't realize I'd be walking alone until it was too late.

It was one of those days where I had a bit of free time before dinner, and normally I would spend it in the library with Alexandra and Myra while the boys were at practice. Being alone made me want to just book it to the common room. Of course, I wasn't likely to get away with that, so I forced myself to be content with a fast-paced walk. I'd only just gotten to my usual shortcut to get to the dungeons when a burst of red streaked past my ear. Instinctively I ducked behind a column, slipping my wand into my hand.

My eyes squeezed shut as I tried to calm myself, but it did very little to help. A peek around the wall I was using as my shield only got me another spell thrown in my direction. I caught just a glance of two figures further down the hall, which just made the nerves spike higher. Two on one, at best. And while it wasn't my worst subject, Defense hadn't taught me much over the years. I took another peek around the corner, flinching at the next spell thrown at me. Nonverbal. They're sixth years at least. They were also Gryffindors, if their ties were any indication.

I bit my lip at the hopeless feeling welling up inside of me. I had nothing in my repertoire of spells that could get me out of this without maiming anyone. I didn't know a shield charm, or the stunning spell. I wasn't nearly as accurate as I needed to be to use the disarming spell. And I'm supposed to break free of Dumbledore like this? I can't even handle a couple of sixth years! My best shot was to run, to find someone who could help me or just to get away.

Unfortunately, my attackers had the same idea as me. I didn't even have a chance to send a spell in their direction, or to bolt. One second I was panicking out of sight, the next there were two wands in my face. Looking at them now, they were definitely seventh years. I had no idea what their names were, but that didn't matter. Why would it ever matter what the name of some boy who wanted to torture a fourth year was? I was definitely ready to curse whoever decided that the Defense professor didn't need to teach anything properly though. This was just my worst nightmare – barring Dumbledore himself.

The taller of the two seemed all too aware of my fear as he cocked his head, jabbing the end of his wand into my throat "Well, looks like a little snake got lost, doesn't it? Or are you on your way to attack another defenseless muggleborn?" Of course, I wasn't going to justify that with any sort of response, so I just glared at him. He simply clicked his tongue "See, I think she's got a little attitude with us. That's just not right."

His little friend finally opened his mouth, but not before pushing his wand to my cheek "You should learn to respect your betters." I hissed in my frustration, very tempted to just bite him with a venomous tooth. Unfortunately, that was a worse idea than hitting them point blank with a reductor curse. The fear in me grew when his face sprouted a wicked grin "You ever wonder what happens if you use a spell on someone point blank?"

The taller one chuckled, the sound grating on my ears "Interestingly enough, I have. And we have the perfect guinea pig standing in front of us." He stepped back a bit, taking his wand away from my throat in the process "It's your idea, why don't you go first?" I remember little else from there. I was out after a hint of pain in my cheek.

Vanessa Snape was a bit of a mystery to me. She was one of the first people I met who didn't leap in the air at my name, and she never once tried excessively to involve herself with me. She just let me get my bearings and then went on her merry way. There was no judgement from her when I asked her questions about the wizarding world, and she even made an effort to involve me in her Christmas traditions with her father.

When I first met Ron Weasley I thought he might have been one of my friends, but Vanessa had pointed out that he was surprisingly prejudiced against Slytherins. I might have believed him if I hadn't met her before him. She showed me that every house has flaws, but they're also all great in their own ways. It's why I was so open to Hermione when I first met her. Ron kept trying to stick to the philosophy that Slytherin was bad and Gryffindor was good, but I didn't want to hear that anymore.

So when the hat put me in Slytherin, I wasn't all that disappointed. It was the house Vanessa was in, and she was one of the better people I'd met up to that point. The boys' dorm was a little crowded, but my bed was next to Theo's, so we got to know each other fairly quickly after that. I didn't always get along with Malfoy and his little body guards, but I liked them better than I liked Ron Weasley.

Hermione was a bit bossy, and really competitive, but that was just who she was. She balanced out Theo's laidback attitude towards classes, or my bullheadedness whenever I got mad. She was our brains, and I was immensely grateful for her help in my classes. And Vanessa has even helped me defend her to our more prejudiced house mates. She's been the most accepting of Hermione being my friend, and she doesn't try to question it either.

And then in my first year when we had to try and get Hagrid's dragon off the grounds, Vanessa didn't even ask where he got the dragon from. She didn't care, she just wanted to see it. And she accepted that as payment for her taking care of it for us. She hasn't even mentioned it since then, but Theo and Hermione both were so scared that she would say something to a teacher.

Then, when everything with Quirrel and Voldemort happened at the end of the year all she did was visit me in the hospital wing. She didn't pester me for details, or expect some story of grandeur, just asked if I was feeling better and that I stay safe next time. She even walked with me the whole way to Uncle Vernon. She scared him silly that day too. I know she did it on purpose, and I couldn't even protest against it because it was funny.

Vanessa Snape, if I had to describe her as anything, is more than a friend to me. She's distant, but she cares. And I'm sure this year, when Hermione goes home for Christmas and Theo's parents drag him on a trip to Europe, Vanessa will invite me to have Christmas dinner with her and her father again. I'm pretty sure she's the reason Professor Snape is even civil to me. If I had to call her anything, I'd call her family. Maybe not like a cousin, because she's nothing like Dudley, but I don't have a sibling to know if this is what it's like. Maybe I should ask Daphne what it's like to have a sister, she'd know better than I do.

But that's why when I heard she was in the hospital wing because she'd been attacked, I was scared. Vanessa had always seemed untouchable to me. She had a sneer just like Professor Snape's, and she could hold anyone's attention just like him too. It made the idea of her losing in a fight impossible. I went to visit her with Theo and Hermione by my side, all of us pausing at the sight of Professor Snape and a Hufflepuff boy by her bed. The boy left shortly after we arrived, and we approached her bed slowly. The sight of her was disheartening. Her face was terribly bruised, and her arm was wrapped in a lot of bandages.

Professor Snape frowned at us before looking back at her "She'll make a full recovery by Friday. Try not to wake her, she'll be in immense pain if you do."

Hermione held her tongue, likely because she didn't want Professor Snape to turn on her, but this was also the first she was seeing of his softer side. Theo didn't speak either, choosing to find some extra chairs for us instead. My eyes drifted to the deep bruise on her cheek "What happened, do you know, sir?"

Professor Snape shook his head, his hand folding in the blankets over Vanessa "No, whoever did this to her was gone by the time someone found her. The only way we'll know is when she wakes up."

It was amazing what fear could do to the mind. Real, primal, and absolute fear brought feats the human body isn't normally capable of. Reflexes faster than a werewolf's, the wit needed to fire out spells one has never performed well before, pulling some unseen power out of the depths of your core. Fear creates fight or flight responses, and sometimes in the worst of cases, it creates a freeze response. Fear also has a way of bringing about life changing revelations.

That's what it did for me. I knew I was beaten the second I realized the two boys who attacked me were using nonverbal spells. I wasn't capable of using a single defensive spell against them, let alone using one verbally. I wasn't half bad at occlumency, given my and my friends' dedication to becoming the best we could be as thirteen year olds, but I didn't take much of my schoolwork seriously. Sure, I had a disadvantage in one class, and the teachers for Defense have been less than stellar over the years, but that wasn't an excuse.

I needed to be better. I needed to master every defensive spell I could get my hands on, any spell that could save me in a fight against someone as powerful as the headmaster. I was never going to master the basic charms, I couldn't. Not with the way I am. And casting any of the Dragonian spells I had translated would cause me immense pain, so I had to avoid that if I could.

I didn't know how long I was sat, sitting inside my own head. It doesn't matter how long I was there in the end, it just matters what I accomplished. The only way my spellwork was going to get any better was if I could fix what was wrong with me. I needed to know what was done to me for that to happen. So I took advantage. I didn't know how much time was passing, but I did know I was just given free reign in my head for an extended period of time. I really should have thought about the consequences.

Vanessa didn't wake up when she was meant to. Professor Snape took down the names of everyone who was staying at Hogwarts for Christmas exactly one week from the day she was put in the hospital wing. Her recovery was meant to take only three days. The whole of Slytherin house had visited her at least once in that week. None of us liked knowing she was hurt so terribly.

I visited her every other day, Hermione and Theo only came along twice a week. No one knew why she wasn't waking up yet. Madame Pomfrey said there was nothing physically wrong. Her best friends, Pucey and Montague, visited every day. I'd often find them by her bedside together, sometimes even talking with Professor Snape. He was there the most, of course. He often brought essays to grade while he sat with her.

It was uncomfortable, at first. Professor Snape never struck me as a man who liked me, and there were a few times that I thought Vanessa was the only reason he didn't hex me. Sitting by her bedside, however, made him seem less like a teacher and more like a father. If I didn't know any better, I'd have said the man was bonding with me. Well, I might still say that. He was very difficult to read, but he was kind on occasion.

One of those occasions took place on a Wednesday, three weeks after she'd been admitted. Hermione and Theo went to the library while I came to the hospital wing, and Professor Snape was grading essays by her bedside again. This far into my regular visits I knew better than to start a conversation with him. I merely sat in the chair on the opposite side of him, pulling out my transfiguration book to read ahead some more. It was one of the hardest classes for me, but I found it extremely interesting.

I suppose it was this that peaked Professor Snape's curiosity, as the sound of his quill stopping made me lift my head to meet his eyes "Mr. Potter, do you ever read any of your other classes' text books?"

It was a question I felt was a little out of the blue, but I wasn't going to say that. I simply nodded to him "Of course, I just find transfiguration to be more interesting to me. I like to read ahead."

He seemed to ponder on that for a while, going back to his grading as I read. I almost thought that was all he would say to me, but then he spoke again "Vanessa used to love transfiguration. She even begged me to let her sit in on a few classes before she was a student. I could never let her, of course. I'm still not quite sure what made her stop taking such a deep interest in it."

He stared off into space for a bit while I looked down at her hand, noting the well-formed callouses that came from working with potions ingredients all the time. It raised passing memories, of her laughing with her father, or of her talking about him. The deep level of respect she had for him was palpable every time someone spoke ill of him, or insulted him. Any comment on their relation brought out a fierce protectiveness she had for him. She loved potions, and she continued to love it because of him. I met his eye again when he snapped out of his trance "I think she preferred potions over transfiguration, sir. I think she just wanted to spend as much time with you as she could."

His expression lightened briefly when he looked at her face again "Thank you, Mr. Potter." I nodded happily, only to end up biting my tongue when he continued "You may just turn out to be a better man than your father was." He looked to me again when I didn't say anything, raising an eyebrow as if to dare me to argue. When I merely stared at him, he relaxed back into his seat. He really was only occasionally kind.

I took my time working through the islands in my head. I'd made a horrible mistake trying to do this alone, and now I had to mend the damage alone. I managed it, for the most part. On the bright side, there were only two memories from my former wasteland left. On the not-so-bright side, one of my islands looked like it was withering, and another that used to be like a tropical forest was morphing into a bog. Closer inspections of them told me they were islands that represented two different states of mind.

The one that was withering was what represented my contentment with my life, which explained why it was so small in the first place. But now, very little of it was holding on, and I had a feeling it might disappear altogether when I uprooted the last two memories. The other island represented my outrage with my life. I was going to be one angry girl when I woke up. With all the memories I'd looked through, all the abuse I suffered at the hands of the Potters, I would rather die than let it happen again by anyone's hand.

Now for the hard part. I turned to face the island with my last two buried memories. One of these was going to tell me what Dumbledore did to me. The other, I'm not sure, but it was just as big as the one it was next to. I took a metaphorical breath, calming myself before approaching one of the saplings and gripping it tightly. With one last attempt to brace myself, I tugged at the sapling with all my might. It took a second tug before the memory came wrenching out of the ground and towards me. Nothing could have ever made me guess that my other memory would be of this.

It was the day after Harry was born. James and Sirius had moved as quickly as they could to usher Lily out to St. Mungo's the day before, leaving Remus and Peter to look after me. They didn't even say goodbye to me. Remus and Peter looked disappointed at that, but they had both wiped any hint of it off their faces for me. They played with me all night, making me laugh and telling me silly stories. And when I woke up the next morning they'd put in the effort to make me pancakes, my favorite breakfast food.

We'd spent the morning talking about how excited I was to be a big sister, and how no matter what I would always protect my baby brother. I was so excited I even forgot that James and Lily didn't treat me like I was their daughter anymore. When the front door opened and they came through I immediately ran over to greet them. Remus and Peter exchanged wary looks behind me, and I only paused at the tall, gray-haired man that I'd never met before.

Lily only noticed me long enough to shove me out of the doorway, and I stumbled back to try to catch myself. It didn't work. Remus had to catch my head so I didn't hurt it when I fell on the floor. Tears welled in my eyes as I watched James and Lily hand my baby brother off to Sirius, who in turn dragged Remus and Peter into the kitchen with him. All little two year old me could do was stare. The heartbreak on her face was clear. At least before Harry was born she could justify their treatment as stress from the pregnancy. Now, that clearly wasn't the case.

The only person left who would acknowledge her being in the room was Dumbledore. He kept a close eye on her as he spoke with Lily and James, as if she were going to blow the house up. I watched as her eyes turned a reddish hue and her arms grew scales, the heartbreak turning into a full on tantrum of epic proportions. The walls started shaking and the windows rattled, books and knick knacks started whirling through the air.

It only stopped once Dumbledore waved his wand, everything finding their places once again. Little Amelia looked devastated, but James and Lily looked at her in utter disgust. A shout sounded from the kitchen, a simple glance revealing Sirius blocking the doorway into the living room. Dumbledore looked to Lily and James, heading to the door to leave with a few parting words "I'll look into something that will keep her under control."

The memory ended there, and it hurt. It was no question why that was one of the worst memories locked away in my head. That was the day Amelia Potter realized her parents didn't love her. That was the day I realized that my own family wouldn't care if I disappeared. I winced at the sight of my island of outrage growing in size. But that was fine. It was fine if I was angry. Anger was the driving pulse behind my resolve to be free. Anger was what kept me from breaking down. Anger was what gave me the strength to grasp the last memory clinging to being unknown. Anger was what gave me the strength to wrench the memory out of the ground of the island. It just wasn't enough to save me from how much this memory would haunt me.