Harry Potter and the Secrets of Willow

Godric’s Hollow in late July was warm, even at night. The cool breeze on the air helped a bit to relieve the heat, but not much. Muggles lay asleep in their beds, unknowing and uncaring about the four magical beings walking the streets just outside their snug homes.
The one that stood out the most among the group, a boy with messy black hair and sharp green eyes, stopped at the edge of one house in particular-one that had been reduced to a pile of rubble over the years, and now stood as chunks of rock and cement strewn across a large, dry patch of dirt.
The boy kicked at one of the rocks, his worn out sneaker managing only to push it a few feet away and let the rock stub his toe through the worn material.
He winced, and the girl stood just behind him, a red head, younger, looked up at him with concern. “You okay, Harry?” she asked.
Harry James Potter nodded, “Yes, Ginny, I’m alright.”
Ginny Weasley acknowledged his reply with a small smile, taking his hand and stepping forward into the rubble. He followed silently, letting her lead him to the center of the plot. They cleared away enough of the rocks there for them to sit before plopping onto the dusty ground.
“Ron,” Ginny said, calling back to her brother, whose sloppy hair was the same shade of red as hers, and stood holding the hand of his girlfriend, Hermione Granger, whose bushy brunette mane rivaled Ginny’s in length, “bring the flowers here.”
Ron, grumbling, pulled forward to join his best friend and little sister in the open patch, not sitting down for lack or room. “Don’t know why I have to carry the bloody flowers,” he mumbled. “It isn’t at all manly.”
Hermione, having heard this, rolled her eyes with a giggle. “Good Lord, Ron, stop complaining.”
He merely grunted, and shouldered the large bouquet of roses to Ginny, who handed them to Harry. He stared at them for a moment, a million thoughts rushing through his mind.
It had been a few months since Voldemort, the Dark Lord’s, death. He’d put the Elder Wand into it’s resting place immediately after, and the time after had been for burial service to the many witches and wizards lost in the battle. Many of those people had been Harry’s friends, and Ron and Ginny’s older brother had brother, Fred, twin of George, had died as well.
Harry felt tears swarm his eyes, but quickly brushed them back. This wasn’t the time to be thinking about those things, right now was for his dearly beloved parents.
That’s what he’d come to Godric’s Hollow for, after all. This very spot was where his parent had spent their last moments. Before Voldemort had come and ended their lives.
Harry’s hand strayed to the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. The very scar he’d received the night of his parents’ deaths. The scar that hadn’t pained him since that fateful day back in Hogwarts castle.
Ginny reached up and cupped Harry’s face. She’d seen the emotions flitting across his face, and knew the pain he must feel right now. Taking his hands in hers, they slowly lowered the bouquet to the ground together, sitting silently for the few minutes afterward.
Harry probably felt the strongest of the others. With this, it seemed to him that they were finally being laid to rest, the last of his true family. He considered the Weasleys family, with the exception of Ginny, who he loved more than anything, but they couldn’t completely fill that void in his heart. The only living ‘family’ he had was the Durselys, and they were Muggles and couldn’t accept Harry for what he was.
Sighing, Harry stood, Ginny following his lead, and the four made their way back to the street.
“Ouch!” Ron suddenly exclaimed, reaching down to grab his toe.
Harry grinned slightly to himself, Ron’s shoes were probably in as poor of repair as his were. “Stub your toe on a rock, Ron?” he teased.
“That was no bloody rock!” he said, doubling over to search the ground. “That thing had a sharp corner, and was too smooth to be a rock.”
“How would you know it was smooth?” Ginny asked, stepping forward to search the ground with Ron.
“There’s a hole in his shoe,” Hermione explained.
Harry raised his eyebrows at that, unsure as to whether or not he wanted to know why Hermione knew this, and how Ron’s shoes had come to be that bad in disrepair.
“Ah! Found the bugger,” he said, holding up what looked to be a small wooden chest made of finely crafted mahogany. It was maybe a foot long, half a foot wide, and a foot high.
“Where did that come from?” Harry wondered aloud, as he walked forward to get a closer look at it.
“I don’t know,” Hermione said. “Maybe it was always here and we just didn’t notice it?”
Ron snorted, “I think we would have noticed a big wooden chest on our way through, Hermione.”
She glared at him. “Then you come up with a better idea!”
“Umm, Harry?” Ginny said in a small voice that drew everyone’s attention. She ran her hand along the lid with a tentative hand from where the chest had been placed on one of the larger pieces of rubble. “I think you should see this.”
Harry walked forward to stand next to her. “What is it, Ginny?”
She didn’t answer, just gestured at the chest. Harry looked down at it, and felt his heart rate increase as his eyes widened. Because in the dim light from the streetlamps, two words were easily readable.
Lilly Evans Potter

Harry looked at the chest, which now sat on the kitchen table in the Weasley home. There had been much excitement in the home since they’d arrived back with it a few hours earlier, but now everyone was waiting in hushed excitement to open it.
“I still can’t believe no one ever found it in all the time it’s been there,” George said, the mirror image of his dead twin.
“My guess would be a concealment spell,” said Bill Weasley, Ron’s other older brother who worked at Gringotts Bank, a bank especially for wizards that was said to be impenetrable, yet Harry, Ron, and Hermione had succeeded in robbing it and escaping on dragon-back not long before Voldemort’s death. He and his wife Fleur were currently staying with the family during the summer.
“It would have had to have been a strong one for the magic to have worn off now, after all these years,” replied Mr. Weasley, Ron’s father.
“Wasn’t Lilly’s maiden name Evans?” asked Ginny, referring to the name on the lid.
Harry nodded. “Yes, it was.”
“Well enough stalling!” Mrs. Weasley clucked her tongue at them for their jabbering and nodded to Harry. “Well, open it, dearie.”
Taking a deep breath, Harry opened the lid and peered at the contents. There wasn’t much. It looked like some sewing materials, patterns, clothe…“Is this a gown for a baby?” he asked, holding up a small pink dress.
“Why, yes, it is,” Mrs. Weasley said, taking it from him to look at it. “But why ever would Lilly be sewing a baby’s dress?”
“I think this might explain why,” Ginny said, staring wide eyed at a picture she had taken from inside the chest seconds before. Wordlessly, she handed it over to Harry.
Harry looked at the picture, confusion forming in his mind as he took it in. There were his parents, standing by a small crib, Harry in his father’s arms, and another child, a tiny infant, in his mother’s. There was a small birthmark beneath the child’s right ear, which took on the distinct form of a snowflake. The picture moved, so his mother leaned down to kiss the baby, and Harry’s tiny hand would reach out to touch its head.
Wide-eyed, Harry looked on the back of the picture, reading the inscription scrawled there.
Lilly, James, Harry, and Lillas Potter, in the baby’s room. Lilly-age 21, James-age 21, Harry-age 1, Lillas-age 1 month
“What is it, Harry?” Ron asked, taking the picture and looking at it as Harry had. His eyes widened as well. “Blimey.”
“What is it?” Mrs. Weasley asked, taking it from him. “Oh my goodness.”
“Let me see!”
Soon, the picture had traveled around the room so everyone had a look at it, and they all knew what it meant without speaking a word.
Harry had a sister, then, seeing the significance in the word, realized had was probably the right word for it indeed. It was highly doubtful she was still alive.
They all stood silent, and it was Mrs. Weasley who spoke first. “When? How? No one knew about another baby!”
“I imagine it was while they were in hiding, and it says the baby was only a month old in this picture.” Mr. Weasley was currently holding it, and he took a closer look at it. “More than likely they hadn’t been able to tell anyone. If everyone knew it would cause complications, and so they probably kept it secret. And in hiding, no one would know about a pregnancy since hardly anyone ever saw them.”
Hermione nodded, “That sounds logical.”
“I think we’re evading the more important question here,” Harry said, looking at them all. “What we should be wondering is what happened to it? Is it still alive?”
Everyone exchanged glances around the table. No one wanted to voice an answer to these questions, and it seemed no one was going to speak until George suddenly reached into the chest and removed something that had been hidden beneath the material.
“Look at this, a diary.” He held up the small, brown leather bound book, a lock jangling on the cover. The golden filigree on the cover proclaimed it to be Lilly’s as well. “There isn’t a keyhole on the lock.” George took out his wand, aiming it at the small bit of metal. “Alohomora.”
Nothing happened. The lock stayed firmly in place, and as it was passed around so everyone could get a go at it, it seemed as though it never would.
When Harry got his hands on it, he held onto it, looking down at the golden lettering. As he stared at it, he knew the others were just using it as an excuse not to talk about his previous questions. To talk about his little sister, the one he hadn’t even know existed.
“Lillas,” he whispered, recalling the baby’s name. “Lilly, James, Harry, and Lillas.” He liked the sound of it, and for a fleeting moment wished he could see her, that he could remember her. He didn’t have much time for that thought, however, when the diary suddenly flew open in his hands, lock sailing across the room.
“It seems Harry spoke the password,” Hermione said, looking down at the open book as Harry set it on the table.
Flipping through the pages, Harry found the first entry and started to read.
“‘I have decided to keep a diary, since I have just discovered that I am now pregnant with a second child. James is ecstatic, and we’re both happy that Harry will soon have a little brother of sister.’” Harry paused, looking around the table at the expectant faces before continuing. “‘We have decided to keep this a secret from everyone, even our dearest friends, for the children’s sake. If everyone knew about my pregnancy, it would cause unnecessary worry for them. Besides, since we will be in hiding soon, it seems that in these troubling times this is the best point that I could bring a baby into the world. If we are in hiding, at least the baby would be safe for a while.’”
Harry stopped and flipped through the pages until he found another entry that may give some clue as to what might have happened to his sister.
“‘I have prepared a means to protect my children should the worst happen. I don’t think there’s much possibility that we’ll be found, and I’m confident this will all end in our favor, but what little news we receive from the outside isn’t very promising. I want to have something prepared, just in case.
“‘That in mind, I have written two notes-one for Lillas, one for Harry. Should we need to leave in an emergency, I will attach the notes to them and transport them to Norway, Sweden, Poland, or Germany. I haven’t decided which would be best at this point, as long as it’s far enough away. I want them to be safe. If I could transport them, preferably to areas near civilization, and keep them safe, than my mission will be accomplished. I will try to follow, but if I am unable to transport James or myself after I’ve sent them, the notes will explain to any who find them to take care of them.
“‘This is the best I can do if things end up badly. I can only hope that it will never come to that, and that I won’t have to use this method of escape for my children. My lovely Harry James Potter, and his beautiful baby sister, Lillas Marie Potter.’”
Harry stopped there, his mind reeling at what this could possibly mean. She could be alive. She could be alive. His sister could be out there somewhere, waiting for him to come and find her.
“This is big,” Ron said, looking at the book still lying on the table. “This is really big.”
“Only your parents’ bodies were ever found at the scene,” Mr. Weasley said. “It’s quite possible-it could be that-”
“That my sister escaped,” Harry whispered. “That my mother’s plan worked. That she made it out alive.” Harry looked at them all through his glasses, green eyes shining with unshed tears. “That she’s out there.”
Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry, and cradled him against her.
“Well, there’s only one thing to do, then,” Mrs. Weasley said, a bright smile on her face. “We have to look for her.” She turned to her husband. “Arthur, can you let everyone know about this? We should all start looking as soon as possible.” She took the picture off the table, where it had been set while Harry read from the diary. “And send a copy of this to everyone, Charlie as well. He’s in Sweden right now, isn’t he?”
Mr. Weasley nodded. “Yes, Molly, apparently a clan of rare dragon species, thought to be extinct, has been found in that area. He’s there to find and research them. We’ll get him a picture so he can keep an eye out. He’ll know her by the birthmark beneath her ear.”
Harry looked at the picture Mrs. Weasley still held, clutching the arms Ginny had around him. “We’re coming for you, Lillas. We’ll find you, even if it seems impossible.”

About a week later, at the edge of the Swiss Alps, Charlie Weasley, second oldest of the Weasley children, opened a letter he’d received from a black barn owl from his family. He wasn’t completely shocked at the news, the wizarding world had been abuzz with news of Harry Potter’s missing little sister that no one had ever known about until now. He sent back word that he would keep a look-out for the girl, and tucked the picture into his pants pocket, swearing to keep it with him at all times.

And so the search began for the little girl no one had known existed, and who no one knew looked like, save for the snowflake birthmark resting beneath her right ear.