The Story of Sheila Riddle (Harry Potter Fanfic)

Chapter 15

Leanne Carmen lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling, wide awake.

She was a pretty girl with golden brown hair and eyes.

And she was a witch, a Pure-blood no less. 

It was nearly midnight. She was awaiting the exact moment when she would turn eleven. Only when she was eleven would she receive her letter inviting her to learn magic at Hogwarts. Her parents had told her all about it, and she was so excited. 

She waited tensely. The clock chimed midnight. She had been born at precisely three minutes after midnight. She counted the seconds off in her head. And then...

Suddenly her body went rigid. She began to gasp for air, shaking uncontrollably for several minutes. Then she stopped and everything went quiet. She lay deathly still for a long time, her eyes wide open, staring unseeingly. A sudden jolt shuddered through her; air rushed back into her lungs. She lay stretched out on the mattress, heaving breath after breath.

The prisoner in Leanne's mind had, at last, emerged. After eleven years of being forced to watch the everyday life of a simpleton, she was back. Sheila was back. And Leanne, the girl who had assumed her form, was now dead.

Sheila's thoughts raced back to the moment when she had used her spell. 

She had stood there, shivering, in her precious hideaway. She had known exactly what to do, but it would take a tremendous amount of courage. She cast the spell on herself. Nothing happened. It was time for the next step.

Her eyes swept the room and came to rest on a long knife, one she had used to cut up ingredients for her experimental potions. She walked over to the desk on which it rested, and slowly curled her fingers around the handle. She pointed it inward, bringing the point to rest over her heart. Then with a deep breath, she drove it inward. A gasp escaped her. Then she fell dead to the floor. 

Her consciousness had left her body, traveling for miles till it came to a house. It entered the house, and found the crib of a tiny baby girl, one with magical blood flowing through her veins. It entered her, and became dormant, forced to wait out the next eleven years until action could at last be taken. And over the years, Leanne grew into the very image of Sheila.

Until now, when Leanne's soul had been forced from her stolen body and into Sheila's decaying corpse, where her life left her at once.

A life for a life. It was dark magic, but as long as it got the job done, Sheila didn't care.

"It worked," Sheila murmured, "It worked..."

And she smiled.