Disclaimer: I own only the plot, and anything else you don't recognize.
There is little to say on the truth of which I now write; only that it must be said, before it can happen again. People need to know, it is their right; after all it was for them, the loss and the pain, and because of them, the neglect.
I admit the term is just a tad harsh, just a tad bit, but nothing more then that. They, after all, turned their backs on the one boy who had lost everything to them. His innocence, his parents, his childhood, his everything; it wasn't even his fault, that terrible thing that happened. His parents had long ago neglected him, thought his brother to be their savior, but he knew it wasn't him, he was just too afraid totell them. He ran away, leaving from the pain and the neglect,only to find a family that would give himthe love that he had never gotten from his realfamily. They would love himmore then anything else, and a sibling, one who would give everything for him. I would know, for I was the other child; and this is my story of the REAL Boy-Who-Lived, and of the sister that lived for him.
He came into the mansion, glad at finally finding the hideout. A man with untidy black hair tried to hold him off while his wife took their two young sons up the stairs to hide. He shot a stunner at the man with unruly black hair and laughed maniacally, He was so close, once the two brats were dead, nothing would be able to stand in his way, and he would be invincible.
The foolish redheaded woman stood in front of her twins, one red head and the other with his father's, equivalent to the unruly mop. At least she was better at defending the two, yet she collapsed under a dark spell, one of his personal favorites, the dementia dormis, which worked a lot like a dementor, in the end draining her of her soul. He bent to the temptation again and let out another bark of his maniacal laughter. He peered down into the crib, a pair of green eyes and another pair of hazel eyes starred back at him. He knew instantly that it was the toddler on the right, the one with the intense green eyes. He pointed his wand and took aim, as he said the two most deadly words that he thought would seal the child's fate, instead he felt pain beyond pain. The curse had reflected on to him, of all things. He felt himself, being torn from his body. He screamed in agony, and flew out the window, leaving two bawling toddlers in his wake.
He arrived at his friend's house to check on him. Instead he found the place blank, empty, with no sign of a trouble. It hit him like a ton of bricks. The little Rat was a traitor! And he had betrayed them all, maybe even to their doom. He ran back out and dashed madly to his best friend's home. He tore through the door, and enervated his friend. They heard crying and an anguish scream from upstairs. They heard her voice, "no, no stop, no please!" Both ran to find her in a fitful sleep, which he recognized to be the sleep of the dementors. He cast the counter right away and ran to the crib while his friend took care of his wife. He looked upon his godson and his brother. There was a scar bleeding on his head, as he cried, his brother just looked at him with doleful eyes.
That night, a little boy with wide hazel eyes and messy red hair was proclaimed the savior of them wizarding world, while his brother, the real Boy-Who-Lived, lay crying in his crib, still bleeding from the curse that would change his life forever.
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