The Unlikely Witch

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Nepenthe: (n) 

Something that can make you

forget grief or suffering.


"Amapola, are you okay?"

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"Amapola, are you okay?"

"They say you're my brother?" Amapola questioned instead of answering his question. It had been a few hours since she was awoken shocked and confused to see herself so small and different from before. The last thing she remembers was a car hitting her when she tried to save a cat.

The boy replied with a tentatively nervous smile, which made Amapola's insides twitch in a weird warm way. "Yes. Aunt Petunia says we are fraternal twins. I'm younger than you by four minutes." Amapola tries to hold back the faint smile that wants to curl on her lips when he mutters the last bit.

While his hair is a lovely shade of black curled and unruly, and his skin, the color of amber, hers, she notes, is peachy toned paired with long knotted strawberry-blonde hair. "I'm Harry. We were weeding the garden when you suddenly slumped over. The doctors say you suffered a severe case of heat stroke that somehow made you lose all your memories." He explained in the best way an eleven-year-old could.

'Amapola knows she's supposed to be someone named Emily, who is twenty-nine years old. But somehow she has transmigrated into the Harry Potter World as Harry Potter's twin sister from the stupid fanfic she had been writing. Now she had become her character in a twisted strange way.'

Amapola is smart, and she thinks perhaps it's the medicine or maybe her magic that keeps her so calm at the moment, and not thinking about what is currently going on. Maybe she'll deal with that later when she is by herself. However, before Amapola could even so much as open her mouth to reassure her new twin brother, the door was slammed open. "SO HOW MUCH IS THIS GOING TO COST US!"

Amapola and Harry both flinch back as Vernon Dursley marches into the room, shouting so loudly his face has turned to a shade like a tomato. Vernon's voice shook the room, and the hostility in his voice made Amapola flinch even further as it gave her, a stark reminder of her new, precarious position within this suddenly new family of hers.

'Amapola had forgotten she had gone from an orphan with no family, to an orphan with a family who did not care about her well-being or happiness. Hers or her brother's.'

Petunia, who had quietly walked in behind her husband, had her eyes darting around the room, until they finally settled their gaze on Amapola and Harry. Her expression only softened momentarily, before hardening again that Amapola nearly missed catching it. "We need to know what we're dealing with here," she said, her voice sharp, directed more at the doctor than anyone else.

The doctor, a middle-aged man with a kind face that belied his current stress, stepped hurriedly into the room and made his way over to sit aside the hospital bed Amapola had woken up on only a few hours prior. "Mr. And Mrs. Dursley, I assure you, we've done everything we could for Amapola. Her condition was serious, but she's stable now," he explained, trying to provide some comfort, but maintaining a professional distance. "It's extremely rare, but not unheard of, for severe heat stroke to cause brain damage. You're lucky she only lost her memories."

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