There is a story, of a boy, whose parents were killed by dark magic. He grew up in a house without any love or happiness; he slept in a cupboard under the stairs at number 4 Privet Drive. His name was Harry Potter. What not many people know of, was his sister. This is the true story.

Chapter 1

"Dumbledore, they really are the worst type of Muggles! We can't just leave them here!"

"What should we do then, Professor? This is the only family that they have left," Dumbledore replied, it was a dark night, with everyone in this suburban neighborhood fast asleep.

"Perhaps we should split them up… whoever has the better life - a happier life - the other can join them…" Professor McGonagall said, still in thought.

"Split them up? The only other family they have, other than the Muggles, is each other," Dumbledore said, shaking his head.

"What if they figure out what they can do? Albus, please, one of them should grow up in a magical - "she was interrupted by Dumbledore.

"Here comes Hagrid with the children,"

"Do you think it – wise – to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life,"' Said Dumbledore

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to – what was that?"

A motorcycle flew over the sleeping neighborhood, with Hagrid on the seat. Compared to Dumbledore, with his white beard, long robes, his half moon glasses, bright blue eyes, and long crooked nose, Hagrid was beastly. He was huge, incredibly tall, (and wide) with a black mess of hair.

He landed smoothly by the two other wizards standing by number 4 Privet Drive.

"I have the two. Got them out of the house just in time, Muggles were everywhere," Hagrid said, sniffling a bit.

The boy, asleep, had jet-back hair, covering slightly, the lightning-shaped-scar on his upper forehead. But, the baby girl had her eyes, wide open. She looked like she was about to cry. She had red hair like her mother, but the brown eyes like her father. They were twins, but rumors had gone around that she was killed in the recent events, involving Voldemort. Better known by the people of the magical world as You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Dumbledore didn't agree with the You-Know-Who, he just called him Voldemort, and wanted others to do the same. Her scar was on the back of her neck, covered by her hair.

"Please, we should split them. I know what that means, but I don't trust these Muggles." McGonagall said, staring down at the two children.

"I understand, but how could we? Where would we put the other?" Professor Dumbledore said, deep in thought.

"Split 'em up? Professor, this 'ent me place, but…?" Hagrid said, confused.

"Because, the two most famous wizards in history, is it wise to let them grow up in the same, horrible, Muggle household?" McGonagall said, trying to convince the two quickly.

"Hagrid, is it true that people think that Amy is dead?" Dumbledore asked, still not taking his eyes off the children.

"Yeh, I think so. Sir, are you…?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so Hagrid. But, where shall she go?" Dumbledore sighed.

"The Wesley's perhaps?" McGonagall suggested.

"No, they just had another baby boy. Perhaps we all could take care of the child," Dumbledore said.

"Oh Albus…" McGonagall said.

"Hagrid, I will take Harry and put him on the door step with the letter. Hold on to Amy, we will decide soon." Dumbledore said, taking the little boy into his arms. He pulled the letter out of his pocket and walked to the door. He placed the boy on the doorstep, with the letter pined to the blanket, he kissed his forehead.

"Good luck, Harry Potter."