Summary- There were many things Camille Delancey Potter kept hidden from everyone, just like they kept them hidden from her. Fourth year brings chaos and change and revelations, and nobody's ready for Gryffindor's Golden Girl to turn into Slytherin's Princess.

Warning!- May contain but is not limited to violence, double entendres, sexual innuendos (I think), Heavy Light Bashing Mostly Dumbledore, mental, physical, and emotional child abuse, neglect. If any of this makes you feel any for of discomfort, please don't read, I would feel guilty.

Pairing- LV/HP/TMR, Fred/Draco/George, Maybe Neville/Luna or maybe Blaise/Luna/Neville.

I'd like to say that this was inspired by a story I read a long while ago that i recently reread, Harry Potter and the Descent into Darkness, I think it's called, by Arthey.

Prologue

20 July

Camille Delancey Potter stared out the windows of her personal prison for the millionth time that summer; and tenth time since she awoke in a cold sweat from her nightmare plagued sleep, wishing that someone would come to retrieve her. Yet she knew to expect nothing.

The sun wasn't out yet, as it was only four a.m, if the clock hanging on the wall was correct. The perfectly trimmed lawns and identical houses in the cookie-cutter neighborhood were cloaked in darkness, not even the moon shining down, and a single glance up at the sky told her the day would be stormy, wet, and dreary, and Camille found it somewhat relaxed her tense frame.

Small, dainty fingers brushed dark, wine colored curls from her heart-shaped face, as finger traced the somewhat pulsing lightning bolt on her forehead, and, almost instantly, flashes of a library and a newspaper came to her head:

APPROXIMATELY 800,000 TUTSIS AND HUTU KILLED IN EAST-CENTRAL AFRICAN NATION OF RWANDA.

The line kept running circles in her mind from her waking moment and she had tried to push it out with thoughts of the oncoming school year and her next letter to Sirius. Curiosity, however, won over and Camille quickly found herself sat at her cousins computer. She waited as it rebooted and hoped the light didn't cause Vernon to wake up because she had yet to barely heal from her beatings a mere few nights ago.

As quickly and quietly as possible, the wine tinted teenager looked up the act of genocide her 'sworn enemy' had been reading, as she couldn't remember much of it and read through the information found quickly:

"An airplane crash in 1994 carrying the presidents of Rwanda and Burundi provided a spark for an organized campaign of violence against the Tutsi and moderate Hutu civilians across the country.

Approximately 800,000 Tutsis and Hutu moderates were slaughtered in a carefully organized program of genocide over 100 days, making history as the quickest killing spree the world has ever seen" (Source: http : / / endgenocide . org/ learn / past - genocides / the - rwandan - genocide/).

Camille found herself interested and continued reading, learning of the events leading up to what could have easily been the second worst act of genocide, as far as she knew, since the Holocaust, and only because one compared the number of the dead to the short time it all occurred in.

As she closed the search engine and turned off the computer, questions of why Voldemort would be looking into Muggle genocide of all things, and her heart going out to those dead, she failed to hear her door opening and closing shut until she was pulled from the computer screen. A pain and fear filled shout died in her throat as Vernon threw her across the room and into the far wall.

Camille willed the tears to stay where they were and not spill over, but she knew what was coming and as she watched the walrus come closer to her, she let them fall.

8th August

Her birthday came and passed. She had received a bath-set from Hermione, which was accompanied with a few books, a small vanilla cake from the Weasley's with buttercream frosting, which she ate sparingly and was glad for the preservation charms on it, another from Hagrid, this one a treacle tart cake Hagrid had asked an elf to make. She had been surprised when an owl flew in with a letter from Sirius and a small wrapped box. Inside, she found a cream colored music box with a ballerina on it.

When she opened the box, she found it had some jewelry in it, as well as a folded letter attached to the roof of it. She inspected the roof of the box and found some words neatly and elegantly inscribed into the porcelain.

"Amicti ambitione, et sapientiam, tandem in hostes contra nos est mortis." The Gryffindor read quietly and smiled to herself. "Cloaked in ambition and wisdom, the last enemy we shall face is death."

Camille smiled as she delicately opened the obviously aging parchment and was met with elegant loops and letters.

Dear My Darling Camille,

If you're reading this, then I have passed on and was unable to gift these to you myself, as per tradition. This music box, has been passed on through the Potter line since the founding of the family, nearly eight-hundred years ago, when Ignotus Peverell's father first gifted it to soon to be daughter on the eve of his son's wedding, and Ignotus did the same on the eve of his son's own wedding. Ever since then, it has been a deeply ingrained tradition that has never been broken within our family, whether gifted to the first born males intended or first born female on her fourteenth birthday.

When you were born, I had asked my father if there was a fail-safe in case neither parent was able to present it. He had looked at me with the most serious eyes, holding the wisdom our family was most proud of. He had told me it would go into the family vault and on the night before, Gringotts would make some form of contact with the god-father and have them gift it to the child.

I loathed to think it would ever happen and that today, on your fourteenth, I would be able to gift it to you for safe keeping as my father did to Lily-Flower and I and his father before him. I loathed it, yet my father encouraged me to write this letter of sorts to let you know exactly how much I regret whatever Gryffindor's stupidity caused Lily and I (because I have no doubt it got her as well), or getting killed by Voldemort if Peter Pettigrew, our secret keeper sold us out, and us to be ripped away from you.

Happy Fourteenth Birthday, Princess. May you spend it overflowing with happiness and getting as spoiled by Sirius as I would have done.

With love and care,

Prongs,

Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter

P.S. You're mother says she loves you.

When she had finished reading the letter, it was with tears running down her face and staining the bottom of the sheet of parchment. She picked up the one attached to the owls leg and removed it.

"I'm sorry, I don't have any food I can give you." She told the owl, quietly, sadly and it hooted almost snottily before flying off.

The note from Sirius was wishing her a happy birthday and that he hoped the package got there safely. With the letter, came a mokeskin pouch with an untraceable expansion charm on it with around three-hundred galleons Sirius said he had retrieved from his vaults while under a glamour.

Camille placed the letter on the small bed, carefully, and picked up the music box reverently and looked inside at it's contents. Inside, she found two rings; both held a large black diamond in the middle of it, however, one had small white diamonds glittering all around the thick band and if one looked at it closely, it looked as if vines were entwining with little gems of amethyst and lapis lazuli. The other ring was smaller and had the black diamond encased in the smaller glittering diamonds, like the other. The band itself however, was made up of little leaves with one small emerald and ruby encrusted in a pattern around the whole thing.

Just beneath that compartment, one could see another, and when the rings stands were lifted up, as well as the waring on the other side which were black diamond tear-drops with the same smaller diamond encasing, and a bracelet made of silver, the small black teardrops aligned side by side of the triple bracelet. The small bridges that connected the three different chains and teardrops each had a ruby or emerald decorating it. Once it was all removed, she saw the necklace that followed very much the same pattern of the bracelet and thus no further inspection was needed at that moment so she set it back down and saw that the casing could be removed and did so. What rose from underneath caused Camille's mouth to go slack; two crowns rose on small encasing podiums and each looked like a larger version of the rings except, the second one was completely encrusted in black diamonds with a single line of white following it around.

To say she was astounded by the jewelry would be an understatement but the crowns, they simply gave her pause as she looked at them with her slackened jaws and wide tear filled eyes emerald eyes before a watery smile came onto her face.

Camille's happiness was short lived, however, as her Aunt had shouted at her from the bottom of the stairs and she made quick work of putting her gifts away before scurrying down the stairs and being thrown outside into the humid heat to do the gardening.

She sighed. It had been just a regular day in prison.

20 August

She had been in the kitchen, standing to the side as her family sat and ate their breakfast when the bell rang. Everyone had stopped eating, finding it strange that the bell had rung so early in the morning when they weren't expecting anyone. Vernon had stood up, Petunia following, and told Camille, in no uncertain terms, to stay out of sight and to make some more of everything for his Dudley, completely disregarding the dietary plan on the fridge.

It was a few minutes that they spent at the door, talking to someone, and as she batted the eggs and heated up the oil, she heard them coming back into the kitchen. Vernon waited a moment, as if making sure whoever it was out of earshot before he started yelling.

It seemed to her that the Weasley's had sent her family a letter asking for permission of some kind and had stamped the whole of the envelope.

"The postman thought it funny and thought he'd give it to us personally to ask about it! What have we told you about keeping your freakishness away?! What is this Quidditch anyway!? It sounds like the bastardized version of some word!" She didn't answer, keeping her eyes on the ground, but she heard the sizzling of the oil, signaling it was hot enough and it seemed to draw her uncles attention because he turned off the stove and took the pan.

With wide eyes, having no doubt of what he was about to do, she turned around to run, but just as she had turned, Vernon gabbed her by the collar of the too large shirt and poured the burning oil down her back.

Camille didn't bother to hold in her scream. It hurt. It hurt and it burned. Her screams intensified when she was dragged up the stairs by her hair, the edges of the stairs scraping against the forming burns on her back.

She was thrown into Dudley's second bedroom, because she certainly didn't consider it hers, and locked inside. The deadbolts and locks resounded in her ears before she heard him yell.

"Write them back and tell them you won't be going!"

And that's exactly what she did, despite what she wanted.

31 August

Camille hadn't been let out of the second smallest bedroom for the past eleven days unless it was to wash her clothes in the sink. For ten days, she sat in the second smallest bedroom, without any food and barely any water, doing nothing but reading her school books she had asked Hermione to buy and send her. In the whole of those eleven days she had only been allowed to use the bathroom twice, unless her aunt let her out to wash Dudley's old clothes and her undergarments; though that was what Petunia usually allowed her to do, for as long as she can remember, when Vernon wasn't around, saying she at the very least, needed to keep her undergarments clean. The rest of the time? She was forced to soil herself.

In those eleven days, she knew the burns had reduced greatly, all thanks to her magic as it healed her ever so slowly. They also found Vernon in the room twice a day, morning and night, using her as his personal stress reliever and leaving her with yellowing bruises and broken ribs. At one point, almost getting choked to death, and the indents from the fat, pudgy fingers telling her the bruising was still there and not at all healing fast enough for her tastes.

The last two days of August, however, allowed her torment to end and she was grateful. Aunt Petunia, looking like she had swallowed a sour lemon, had told her to 'get her lazy ass up, showered, and out to get some sun so no one suspects anything when she went back to that blasted school'. She hadn't needed to be told twice and, despite her injures, ran out of the house, after changing one of Dudley's shirts into a dress.

The sun on her skin had felt fabulous, and she had let herself free as she spent the whole day walking about. She'd slept in the park the first day, wanting to sleep under the stars, and when she came back early in the morning they were non the wiser. Her skin looked a little healthier, having gained the tiniest bit of color, and her aunt had repeated the process of the previous day.

She didn't bother to walk around like the previous day, instead choosing to head to the park a few streets down and sit there on the swing. That was until she saw Dudley and his goons terrorizing two little kids, second graders from the looks of it, and was forced to run around Privet Drive, and through Wysteria Walk(?) before losing them and heading for the park a few more streets down.

She returned around sunset and was given an apple, a banana, and two pieces of pomegranates. She didn't question it, keeping her mouth shut, as she'd done nearly all summer, with an incline of her head to her aunt who pretended she wasn't there before she was told to go to her room- Dudley's second bedroom she corrected in her head. And she did just that, eating the pomegranate slices and half of the banana.

She spent the rest of the night organizing her trunk, magically expanded with a compartment for everything a girl could ever need and some extra she had asked to be placed as well as an undetectable self shrinking charm once tapped on the lid in a certain sequence of patterns.

They all contained a password. However the passwords varied depending on which section you were looking in. Section one and half of section two contained all her school related stuff a compartment for everything: cauldrons, potions kit, textbooks, school robes, make up she didn't bother wearing, firebolt, Quidditch gear etc, etc, and everyone knew the password for it. The other half of section two, which was basically another section, but it wasn't, as it had it's own password, were for her library- personal library on anything and everything including but not limited to: basic dark magic- which she had yet to touch as she was apprehensive on books from the Black Family Library-, creature books, children's books, defence books, advanced charms and potion books. Sections three and four, however, were dedicated to her music and it alone.

There were basic, intermediate, and advanced music theory books and music sheets- used and empty, placed in folders neatly and then on the top shelves when the compartments were opened. The rest of them? Instruments of every kind- two of each and the larger ones shrunken. Violins and Electric Violins and Violas. Cellos and Double Bass. Baby Grand pianos and Clavichords(one) and Harpsichord(one) and Electric Pianos. Flutes and Recorders and Clarinets. Acoustic and Electric Guitars and Bass. Even a set of drums- but just the one.

They had been gifts from Dudley's music teacher, though he never returned after the sixth lesson, who had heard her playing a piece that had already been on the sheet holder. It had been Chopin's Fantasie Impromptu and the sheets been left by an older student practicing the piece. And from then on she had been taken on to be polished, though it had been kept from her relatives. When she had started at Hogwarts, the old lady being a muggleborn, had given her the trunk she had and placed the very same instruments in them in the very compartments she had them in all these years later.

As she reminisced, she finished putting everything in place, well into the night, by the moon's position sometime after midnight. She hadn't realized that she was so tired and once everything was set, she immediately fell into unconsciousness, the nightmares that usually plagued her never coming, nor did another vision from Voldemort. Instead, she dreamt of gleaming rubies and snakes, and a cello with a piano accompaniment lulling her deeper into Morpheus' realm.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would be set free.

.

.

.

.

Soooo, the bunnies ran away with this. I don't know what it is. Seriously I don't, but it is my fisrt solely Harry Potter fic so please be nice. Again, I'd like to say that this was inspired by a story I read a long while ago, Harry Potter and the Descent into Darkness I think it's called, by Arthey. Check it out, it's really good.

Uhm, *hides under bed*, for those waiting for an update on Autumn Leaves, Chapter five is in the works, and having some trouble deciding in what direction it's gonna go. And I'm sure by now you all know my update schedule is all over if I update at all that is, so I won't bother and attempt to say when this will be updated, but I hope think it's soon because the bunnies are hopping and destroying all my carefully laid out plans.

Hope you enjoy! Arrivederci! Au Revoir! Adeus! Dovizhdane! Bless!