Full Summary: Bella is Harry's long lost twin. The past is the same, only it was Bella who was there when Lily and James were killed. Harry was at Sirius' house. Harry and Bella are separated when Dumbledore give them to different families. Harry goes to a loving family while Bella goes to the Dursley's since she is now the chosen one. The only different 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 Harry along with Hermione and Ron. 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.

Start: 6/28/10

B POV

When I was finally done with my punishment- being locked in my cupboard unless I was cooking or cleaning- the summer holiday had already started and Dudley had already broken half his gaming devices he had gotten for his birthday and was now using me as his punching bag again. Joy.

I was glad that the school year was over. That meant that the kids at school couldn't make fun of me for what I wore and how I looked, squinting all the time because Dudley smashed my glasses all to bits last time he hit me in the face. But there was never escaping Dudley and his cronies. Never, and I ended up with more bruises than I did if it was just Uncle Vernon hitting me with the belt and cane.

But most of all, I couldn't wait for September. I would be going to secondary school- and away from Dudley. Dudley had been accepted at Smeltings, Uncle Vernon's old private school, whereas I would be going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought it was just hilarious that I had to go to public school.

"They stuff people's heads down toilet the first day at Stonewall," he told me. "Want to come up stairs and practiced?" It was just me and Dudley so I said the first thing that came to mind.

"No, thanks. The toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it. It might be sick." Then I took off running before he could figure out the insult I just threw at him.

Sometime in July, Uncle Vernon was at work and Aunt Petunia had taken Dudley to get his uniform for school. So I was left at Mrs. Figg's who had recently broken her leg tripping over one of her cats. She wasn't pushing photo's of her cats at me or making me pet them or coddle them or whatever she does to them all day and it was good. She wasn't as bad as she normally was, most likely not as fond as her 'wittle kitty witties' as before. Thank God.

That same night, I was cleaning the kitchen after the Dursley's supper and Dudley was parading himself around the house in his school uniform, waving his Smeltings stick around.

I looked at Dudley in his new uniform, feeling a little jealous that he got to wear something that looked so nice- while I knew that I was going to have to wear something ugly and pre-worn. As always.

Then Aunt Petunia burst out crying, blabbering something about how her 'Ickle Dudleykins looked so grown up!' And how proud she was. I thought my ribs cracked, trying not to laugh out loud at the comical display of affection.

The next morning, when I went into the kitchen to make the Dursley's their breakfast there was a horrid stench. Aunt Petunia saw the grimace on my face and her lips tightened in annoyance.

"That's your uniform. Be happy I'm doing anything for you, you little ungrateful freak!" She all but shrieked at me.

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am," I said hurriedly, not wanting her to get Uncle Vernon.

I got started on their breakfast as fast as I could. I noticed in the sink the bowl that held my 'uniform' soaking in some sort of smelly grey substance. Dye, I suppose, since that's what color my uniform is supposed to be.

Uncle Vernon and Dudley walked into the kitchen at the same time, both of their noses scrunched up at the smell radiating from the sink. Uncle Vernon took one look -glare really- at me then sat down at the table, opening his neatly folded news paper. Dudley lifted his Smeltings stick and started banging it on the table. We heard the mail flap bang back against the door and the mail flap onto the floor. Uncle Vernon looked pointedly at me. I nodded and made my way down the hallway.

Three things lay on the doormat. A post card from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge who was vacationing on some island, a brown envelope that looked somewhat like a bill and- a letter more me.

I picked it up, staring at it my heart thumping in my chest from excitement. I had never, in my life, received a letter. From anyone. Why would I?

I didn't go to the library- wasn't allowed to- I had no friends and no other relatives. But there was a letter here I was, looking down at a letter so plainly addressed to me that it couldn't have been a mistake.

Ms. I. Potter

The Cupboard under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment. The ink used for the addressee was an emerald green. There was no stamp. I turned the letter over, my hand trembling. On the other side there was a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms: a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

I heard Uncle Vernon yelling from the kitchen for me to hurry up so I walked in to the kitchen and handed him the other two envelopes, hiding the one addressed to me behind my back.

Uncle Vernon threw aside the bill and looked at the post card.

"Marge's ill. Food poisoning…" And then Dudley just had to open his big fat mouth.

"Dad! Bella's got something!" the great lump exclaimed.

I was about to unfold the letter when it was snatched out of my hands by great meaty ones.

"But that's addressed to me!" I said quietly.

"Ha! Like anyone would send you anything!" Uncle Vernon said, shaking the letter open. He held it up to his face, reading whatever the parchment said. His normally red face turned to green faster than a changing traffic light. Then the green changed to a sickly grey.

"P-P-Petunia!" he stuttered.

Dudley was trying to get the letter out of Uncle Vernon's hands wanting to see what it said but Uncle Vernon held it up, out of Dudley's reach. Aunt Petunia grabbed it, took one look at it and looked like she might faint at any minute.

"Oh my goodness- Vernon!

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were looking at each other, completely ignoring Dudley and me. Dudley wasn't used to it and poked Uncle Vernon sharply in the side with his stick.

"I want to read that letter," he commanded of his mother and father.

"But it's my letter. Can't I read it?" I asked, my voice just a whisper.

"Both of you, out. Now." Uncle Vernon croaked. He shoved my letter in the pocket of his sweater.

"But I want my letter." I said again.

"OUT!" Uncle Vernon roared at the two of us. He grabbed us by the scruffs of our neck and threw us out into the hallway, slamming the kitchen door behind us. As soon as the door closed Dudley and I started a silent but violent fight over who would get to listen at the key hole. Him, being the larger one, won. I crouched on the floor, my head near the crack beneath the door.

"How on earth do they know where Isabella is sleeping, Vernon?" Aunt Petunia said with a shaky voice. "Do you think they're watching the house?"

"Watching- spying- might be following us," Uncle Vernon muttered wildly. You could here his shoes against the linoleum. He was pacing.

"What should we do? Write back? Tell them we don't-" Aunt Petunia started to say but was cut off by Uncle Vernon.

"No-no. Ignore them. If we don't acknowledge them, they'll eventually leave us be."

"But-" I could here Aunt Petunia start to object to his plan, but Uncle Vernon interrupted her again.

"No, Petunia. I won't be having one of those- those freaks in the house! We swore, when we took her in, that we would stamp that nonsense right out of her! We did!" And Aunt Petunia didn't seem to hear anything worth objection to in those few sentences.

When Uncle Vernon got home that night from work, he did something he had never did before. He visited my cupboard. I wasn't in there of course. I was in the kitchen preparing their supper. Uncle Vernon walked into the kitchen, a bag full of my few belongings in his hands.

"Come on, girl." he commanded. "Petunia, I'm taking Isabella up to Dudley's second bedroom. Would you mind looking after dinner?" Uncle Vernon asked Aunt Petunia. She nodded curtly and brushed past me to get to the stove.

Uncle Vernon grabbed me like he always does- by the top of my arm- and dragged me out to the hallway and up the stairs.

**Time Skip**

I was sitting in my new room. Though this time it actually was a room. Not a cupboard that posed as my bedroom. After clearing out all of Dudley's broken toys and moving things around a bit- including the bed that was hidden underneath Dudley's old junk- It actually looked pretty nice. There had been a book shelf in the corner, loaded with books. They were the only thing in the room that looked untouched.

I had never really had a bed so I wondered what it would feel like to sleep on it.

I went back downstairs to clean up after the Dursley's were done with their food. Every now and then, I would take a scrap of left over food off of Aunt Petunia's plate when I thought they weren't watching me from the living room.

When I was turned around, facing the sink, washing one of the plates Uncle Vernon barked out, "Girl!" loudly. I wasn't expecting it- they normally left me alone when I was washing the dishes- I was so surprised that I dropped the plate on the floor, causing it to shatter into what seemed like a million different pieces.

"My plate!" shrieked Aunt Petunia, "My good plate! And you broke it! Why you little whelp!" I turned around slowly, too scared to see what expressions on were on their faces.

Dudley had a look of pure amusement and smugness on his face. He was happy to see me get hit and was just waiting for his mother to strike out at me.

Uncle Vernon was even more purple in the face than he usually was and his eyes were wide with rage. His nostrils flared in anger and you could see the vein in his forehead pulse angrily. My eyes followed him as he stood up, looking like he might charge me like a crazed rhinoceros.

Aunt Petunia looked grief stricken and angry at the same time. She turned furious, accusing eyes on me and I flinched from the raging fire beneath their surface. Her nostrils flared just like Uncle Vernon's did and she stood up behind him.

"Hurt her, Vernon," She ground out from between clenched teeth.

Uncle Vernon advanced on me and I backed up against the counter, wanting to run the other direction. He grabbed a hand-full of hair at the back of my head, dragging me toward the door that lead to the hallway. I could see Aunt Petunia following us. She only ever watched when I broke the dishes, which wasn't very often.

I bit my lip to keep from crying out in pain as Uncle Vernon threw me forward, causing me to go sprawling again. He yanked my pants down and shirt up like last time and took his belt off.

He brought the belt down on my back, legs, backside. It took everything in me to not jerk away, curl into a ball and hide back beneath the stairs, away from Uncle Vernon's beatings and Aunt Petunia's watchful and hate-filled eyes.

I clenched my teeth to keep myself from screaming from the pain of the belt smacking viciously at my back and legs. Those hurt the most.

When Uncle Vernon put his belt back on, I almost sighed in relief. Almost. The relief, though, was gone instantly as he pulled the cane away from the wall. I started twitching, wishing that I could get up and run to my room. 'Please,' I thought in terror, 'Have mercy!' But no one would have mercy on me. Why should they? I was a good for nothing freak. But none of this was right. It was sick. And inhumane. Brutal. Not even the most vile of criminals should have to endure this.

"Stay still, girl. If you move, this will only get worse," Uncle Vernon snarled at me. I stopped moving immediately. If he was laying off, I didn't ever want to feel full force.

Uncle Vernon brought the cane down on my back and I whimpered, which only made him hit me with it harder. After that I stayed silent.

When hew was done with the cane, he threw it against the wall and pulled my pants up for me. He pulled me to my feet and waited for me to stop swaying and stumbling, then he smacked me across the face.

"That's for breaking your aunts good dinner plate, you little wretch."

Aunt Petunia grabbed me by my arm hard, no doubt leaving a bruise, and shoved me back toward the sink.

"Clean that up, then finish the dishes. When you're done with that, get out of my sight." She hissed at me. Translation: I effing hate you. Get this shit cleaned up before I beat you to a pulp, then go to your room, you little whelp.

I did as I was told and barely made it to my room before I passed out from exhaustion.

When I woke up the next morning Dudley was whining about me being in his other room.

"But I need that room, mummy… Make her get out." He pretended to cry, sobbing like he was about to die. Whatever.

Aunt Petunia looked at Uncle Vernon who shook his head.

"I'm sorry, sweetums. But that is Isabella's room, now. You can't have it back." Aunt Petunia looked at me with a loathing expression. After that Dudley was quiet all through breakfast. He was in shock, no doubt. He had never been told no. Not in a million years would my dear fat cousin be told no, especially if it involved me. But there's a first time for everything, right?

When the mail arrived Uncle Vernon, who probably didn't want me to find another letter like the last time, made Dudley go get the mail while I finished making their breakfast. I could here Dudley banging his Smeltings stick on the wall on his way down the hall.

Then he shouted, "There's another! Another letter to 'Ms. I. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive-" he was cut off mid address by Uncle Vernon hopping up from his chair with a yell and running down the hallway, me right behind him. He snatched the letter out of Dudley's hands after wrestling him to the ground. I stood off to the side, afraid if I tried to grab it, I'd get a similar beating to last night.

Uncle Vernon straightened up, letter in hand. He pointed to the stairs and wheezed, "Isabella, go… your room. Now." Then turned to Dudley. "Go- just go." I walked up the stairs, desperately wishing that I had opened that first letter out in the hallway.

I was confused though. Someone knew where I slept. They knew that I had moved out of the cupboard under the stairs into Dudley's second bedroom. They also seemed to know that I hadn't received my first letter. So they sent another one, but I didn't get to read that one either. So they must send another letter, right? I had the perfect plan.

The next morning, my alarm clock- previously broken by Dudley but repaired by me- went off at six o'clock. I dressed quickly, not wanting to wake the Dursley's. I snuck down the stairs. I planned to wait for the postman on the corner, get the mail for number four first. Maybe if I got the mail first, I could open the mysterious letter I had been receiving for the past three days. Hopefully.

I stepped closer to the door, hoping to get out before anyone woke up. One more step and-

"AAAARRRRRGH!"

I scrambled back, wondering what I had stepped on to make a noise that loud. It was big and squishy and alive.

The lights upstairs clicked on and to my dismay and horror, I realized the big and squishy thing was Uncle Vernon's face. Oh, god. I was in for a world of hurt now.

Uncle Vernon was wrapped up in a sleeping bag with a pillow beneath his head, his face now screwed up into an expression of anger. He was clearly making sure that I didn't do what I was planning.

Uncle Vernon smacked me around for a while before he told me to ;get my worthless behind up and go make some tea'. When I got back with his tea, Uncle Vernon had three letters with green ink on them in his hands.

"Can I-" And then he ripped them up. Into little bittie pieces so I couldn't even try to read them.

Instead of going to work that day, Uncle Vernon stayed home to supervise me while I nailed up the mail slot. Aunt Petunia didn't think it would work, but Uncle Vernon- he seriously belonged in a mental hospital- thought that it would work just fine. Saying that the people who were sending me letters, their minds worked in a different way than ours did. I highly doubted that, but whatever floats his boat, right?

That Friday, at least twelve letters from the mystery people arrived for me. They were pushed under the door, as they couldn't go through the now nailed shut mail slot.

Uncle Vernon stayed home again, nailing shut any and every hole in the house that lead to the outside world.

On Saturday, more letters arrived. Twenty-four to be exact. Uncle Vernon was too busy shutting everything up to hit me and for that I was grateful.

Even though everything was closed and blocked in the house, the letters still found a way in. Rolled up inside egg cartons. Aunt Petunia shredded those in the food processor.

On Sunday Uncle Vernon sitting in the living room with a smile on his face. As I handed him his cup of tea he asked, "Do you know what today is girl?"

"Sunday, sir," I answered immediately.

"Ha! Sunday, it is! And what does that mean?" He asked again, excitedly.

"No… post, today, sir?"

"Yes! Too right, you are, my girl. No bloody letters-" He was cut short by a letter whizzing out of the fire place and hitting him in the back of the head.

A few seconds later more came flying out. Twenty, thirty, I wasn't sure how many there were but I was determined to get one.

"Out, OUT!" Uncle Vernon shouted. The Dursley's were ducking, trying to avid getting hit by a flying letter while I jumped up trying to catch one of them. Uncle Vernon grabbed me mid jump and threw me out into the hall. Dudley and Aunt Petunia followed us out.

"Everybody go pack your things. Clothes only. We leave in five minutes. Go!" Uncle Vernon barked at all of us.

I was the first up the stairs and into my room. I grabbed all of my things and threw them into the bag, then went back downstairs into the basement and grabbed all of my good clothes.

Ten minutes later, they were in the car speeding toward the highway. Dudley was sitting next to me from the smacking around the head he got for trying to fit things he didn't need into his bag and holding them up. The big baby, never even been smacked before. He didn't even get smacked that hard! Now he was sitting here crying. Wimp.

Every now and then, Uncle Vernon would change directions muttering about 'shake 'em off'. Quite disturbing, considering there was three other people in the car and he was talking to himself.

By the end of the day, Dudley was practically sobbing. 'He was hungry. He was thirsty. He wanted to watch his favorite television program.' He had never had such a horrible day in his life. I wanted to shout at him to shut up, and to suck it up. But that surely would have gotten me a thrashing.

When we did it was at a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley and I shared a room with musty sheets and creaky twin beds. Dudley went right to sleep but a stayed up a bit longer, looking down at the street lights.

The next morning the Dursley's sat eating what I assumed to be yucky, stale cereal. Dudley was just throwing away his empty foam bowl when the owner came over to us.

"Is there a Ms. I. Potter here. I've got about a hundred over at the front desk." She held up the letter so we could see the green ink address:

Ms. I. Potter

Room 17

Railview Hotel

Cokeworth

I made to take the letter but Uncle Vernon knocked my hand out of the way.

"I'll take them," He said as the owner scrunched her eyebrow in confusion. Uncle Vernon stood up quickly and followed the lady to the front desk.

Later on that day when we were getting in the car Aunt Petunia suggested we go back to the house. In the late afternoon, Dudley asked Aunt Petunia something that had me trying to contain my laughter.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Uncle Vernon had parked the car near the coast, locked us in the car and disappeared. When he came back he had a thin white package.

"Found the perfect place. Come on. Everybody out!" Uncle Vernon said, gesturing wildly with his hands.

As we walked to wherever it was that Uncle Vernon was leading us, Dudley said, "Mummy. It's Monday. I want to stay somewhere with a telly. The Great Humberto's on tonight." Aunt Petunia was saying something but I wasn't paying attention.

If today was Monday- and you could normally count on Dudley to know what day of the week it was- then tomorrow was Tuesday. My eleventh birthday.

When we came to the shoreline I looked out across the water. There was a miserable little shack on a little piece of land. It looked like it hadn't been lived in for a while and I could tell you one thing. There would most definitely be no television there.

Uncle Vernon gestured to a guy standing next to a boat and said with a wide smile, "This nice man agreed to lend us his boat to get across." The man smiled to show us his toothless gums. Creepy., "And I've already got us some rations, so all aboard." Uncle Vernon waited until we were all loaded into the small row boat before he got in.

It seemed like hours before we finally made it to the rocky little island with the shack. Uncle Vernon led the way to the front door of the creaky little house.

The rations Uncle Vernon mentioned? They were a bag of chips for each of us and four bananas. Yummy. Uncle Vernon tried starting a fire at some point that night but failed miserably.

That night as a storm blew in I lay awake on the dusty floor- Dudley got the couch- with a thin moldy blanket. I looked over at Dudley's wrist watch which was wrapped around his chubby wrist. It told me that I would be eleven in exactly ten minutes. I heard the tick, tick, tick of the seconds hand.

I looked down and lifted the hem of my shirt up slightly, looking at the bruises and marks there. The bruises were a turning greenish and the welt were fading. The cuts were starting to scab over and my sprained wrist was starting to feel better. It wouldn't last for long, though. It never did.

I looked back at Dudley's watch. Three minutes to go. I heard a crunching noise, but thought nothing of it. Maybe the rock was crumbling off into the sea? Two minutes to go. I could here the water slapping against the rock outside and the rain pattering against the window. One minute left and I'd be eleven. Thirty seconds…twenty…ten…nine- maybe I should wake Dudley up just to annoy him-three-two-one….

BOOM.

I sat up completely strait despite the pain that shot through my abdomen. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.

Finish: 6/29/10

And that's it for this chappie. Thanks for reading. I don't know when I'll have the next chapter up, most likely within the next few days. A shout out to the three people who reviewed the first chapter. Those of you who are reading this Author's Note, I'll be eternally grateful to you if you tell anyone and everyone who like Harry Potter/ Twilight crossovers about this story. Again thank you. REVIEW PLEASE!