Disclaimer: I don't own Harry potter but this plot is mine.

Summary: What if Harry had a little sister at the time of Voldemorts attack? What if, due to unforseen events that she and James wasn't there that fateful October night but visiting Sirius at his hide out? Lily still sacrifices herself to save Harry and He becomes the Boy-Who-Lived. Set in the pov of Harry's sister Juliette, how will the Potters cope with the fame and Prophecy of the Chosen one? More so, how does Juliette cope when she's thrown into the snake pit?

James Potter was many things, a wizard, a joker, a Maruader, a skilled transfigurer. He could be a bully, a friend, an enemy. He was a fighter, a great Quidditch player and he was a good husband, a good dad.

But James Potter felt only an inch of the man he was as he stared at the site that once hid his home. It had been a temporary home at best, he hadn't dreamed of ever living in such a small house. His wife Lily, on the other hand, had teased him mercilessly with the threat that it was their forever home. He knew what she imagined when she looked at the place, warm Christmases spent together, watching Harry and Juliette unwrap presents or next Halloween, risking an outing to take Harry trick or treating. James thought of a very different future, one in his family home with the sprawling halls and a huge garden where his son could hone his quidditch skills, a place for him to work, a room so Lily could practice her charm work and a place for Juliette. He couldn't visualise that when he looked at the two bedroom house. The only joy the place had brought them was Harry and Juliette but otherwise, it almost a prison.

It was the kind of house one would see an old couple in, small and cozy with a tiny garden and white picket fence. At least that was how it had looked mere hours ago but now? The house was almost unrecognisable. Half of it was intact, but the top right was blown apart.

'The top right,' he thought dizzily. That was Harrys room.

James had known this was why he felt the urge to leave Sirius's, they had both been jittery, like they were waiting for something dreadful to happen. James had suggested a visit to Peters, to see how he was holding up but just before they were leaving something told him to let Sirius go on ahead and check in on Lily. Had he went home earlier, or never left then maybe, this never would've happened.

Was this shock? James felt as if he were dreaming, that the house in front of him was just another one of his nightmares but the solid weight of his daughter told him different. He was always alone in his dreams, he was never comforted by her small intakes of breath, the warmth of her body. In his dreams Voldemort swept away from the house, red eyes leering, a cold laugh on his lips. This was real and Harry and Lily.. they were inside...

The empty sky caught James eye as he stood there, his daughter sleeping soundly in his arms, she didn't even jolt when James jumped as a hand clasped down on his shoulder.

"It appeared only ten minutes ago," said a soft, stunned voice. James turned and found himself staring at Bathilda Bagshot, the aged historian Lily befriended not long after they began hiding in Godric's Hollow and suddenly James realised he was shaking, his breathing coming out in loud bursts, tears steaming down his face. He had cried at both his children's births, and now, would he have to go and look at his son, cold and still not even two years later? His wife staring at him, eyes void of their brilliant fire?

He almost shook the child in his arms, to awake her just so he could see her eyes, so like her mothers and brothers.

"The M-mark..." James finally choked out, his eyes tearing away from the ruin where his sons room was and towards the empty sky. Where was it? Surely Voldemort would mark the spot where he ended the little boys life that would threaten him so much. James had almost laughed when Professor Dumbledore told them of the Prophecy. His son, his little boy who was still growing and forming in his wife's belly would defeat the Dark Lord? Suddenly, he had wanted to do something all Gryffindors would loath doing. He wanted to run, to hide his son away so he'd never have to face his destiny. They had done just that but it had been foiled.

How? They had been so sure Peter was a safe bet, that he was loyal. Out of James friends, he had thought Remus was the spy, as had Sirius, he'd been acting so strangely of late and he was using his furry little talent to get close to the werewolves on Dumbledore's order. James and Sirius had even lied and told him that Sirius was their Secret Keeper, when in truth it was Peter. James knew that Peter had given it willingly, that was the only way to give the secret away. He remembered what Lily had said, after Peter left on Harry's birthday that he looked peaky and out of sorts only James had brushed it off, putting it down to his dislike of Bethilda. But why now, after so long in hiding?

"I don't know, dear, I was putting a pot of water on the fire when I noticed it - there was a flash of light and then not two minutes later another but it sounded like a muggle explosion. I notified Albus straight away - I thought - I thought you were inside, James." James could only shake his head, trying to process what Bathilda was saying. He noticed that she didn't described the colour of the light, didn't say green light but he knew she meant it. The fear in her eyes, the wrinkles of age creased in worry. "Here, child, you're shaking, let me take Letti for you."

James clutched Juliette to him tighter, protective as it dawned on him that this could be a trick - for all he knew she could be anyone but a voice whispered in his mind that it had to be Bathilda - She knew Juliettes nickname. Only tonight had proven that he couldn't trust anyone.

"No, I'll keep her, thank you." Somehow he found his voice, the pale eyes of Bethilda begging him to speak, arms outstretched for the baby. "We was.. with Sirius, he hasn't had a chance to see Letti and I was doing Lily's head in with my pacing. You know how she hates it."

It felt like a hand was twisting his gut as he spoke, as he said his wife's name. Dumbledore. He would intervene and oddly, James didn't want that. If he had it his way many months ago, they would've upped and left wizarding Britain the second James had heard that Prophecy. He had family in America, distant Potter cousins. They still carried the name, they'd have been safe, they wouldn't have to hide. Voldemort was interested in Britain, James was sure America wasn't even in his sight yet. It was the old man who had this plan - Hide in Godric's Hollow, he says, you'll be safe.

Safe but dead.

"James! Don't go in there -" James had suddenly started forward, a determined look in his eyes as he quickly and skillfully adjusted Juliettes weight into one arm and fished his wand out with his now free hand. He paused only to give Bethilda a dazed stare, wondering what the historian would do in his position.

"My son and wife is in there. Do you really think I will let some old man look at them before I? To take them away?" Voldemort or not, James didn't care and for some reason, the empty sky seemed to egg him on. Surely his mark would be there if he was successful? James didn't really know what power his son might have but maybe, maybe it had worked. It was a fools hope at best.

He didn't wait for her to answer and walked on, as brisk and as full of confidence as if he were walking out onto the Quidditch pitch, only instead of a broomstick, he carried his newborn daughter and his wand. Instead of excitement fueling his steps, it was grief and anger.

The front door was ajar and for a split second he was able to fool himself into thinking all was well because it looked that way. The living room was completely untouched, The Evening Prophet was tossed on the sofa, the blanket lily was so fond of thrown over the back of said sofa. Harry's stuffed dog placed waiting for his sister in her baby basket. He had given it to her when he had met her, as attached to it as he had once been.

James sensed that that he was alone, there was no sound, no swish of a cloak and no blaring green light, no laugh. He was sure that Voldemort would kill him on sight, so the fact he and Juliette still breathed was proof of that fact. He quickly set her down in her basket, unable to bring himself to take her upstairs but also not trusting Bagshot enough at this point. His friend had betrayed him, why not some old lady?

He silently cast a few protective enchantments over her, just in case, the protective streak rearing up. He had little hope of them holding off Voldemort but anyone Dumbledore sent? Well, he was sure Bagshot would alert him but it would take only a minute to get Sirius here.

James wasn't sure how he managed it but seeing his daughter, breathing in her cot calmed him, even with the knowledge that he'd placed her there. He remembered the joy he felt when she was born, the same bubbling joy he felt at his sons birth, he remembered their first squeals and Lilys, tired but content face after all that pain. Irish twins she called them, a Muggle saying where siblings were born less than a year apart.

From the tip of James wand burst a stag, he landed softly in front of James. For a second man and the silver mass stared at each other, the former of the two working out what to say.

"Find Sirius - tell him to come immediately - forget Peter." The words almost painful to tell the stag. Forget Peter? His mind screamed. Voldemort may have cast the spell but Peter was the one who aimed it at them. He was the one who lied and spied on us. No, we couldn't forget him.

It took every ounce of self-control James had not to follow the stag out of the room and go after the man that betrayed his family. Instead, he readied himself and turned on his heel, out of the room and up the stairs.

Upstairs was different. It was like the temperature dropped several inches but James knew it was due to the gaping hole in Harrys bedroom wall.

The scene before him as he rounded the bend to Harry's room broke whatever calm had settled upon him. His knees gave way, almost as if the pain was crippling him, eating away at him. He had felt grief before, but James was sure this was much worse, so much worse than the pain of losing ones parents.

It was as if Peter and Voldemort had plunged their hands into his heart and ripped chunks out. Harrys door was pushed open, and from what could be seen, James guessed Lily had tried to barricade them in his room. To keep Harry safe.

It was like another knife stabbed at his heart - she was a lioness, as brave as she always was even with death facing her. James felt a wave of guilt so strong that it nearly drowned him in the dark hallway - he had left her, he had left them both and now, they were dead.

The clear betrayal of his friend - a life long friend really stung - no, he was right before, it tore away a part of him - Peter had taken two of the three people who mattered most to him. Had it not been for Lily all but insisting that he and Letti go see Sirius then all four of them would have lost their lives.

James wondered how he didn't see that Peter was the spy, it was clear now to him. Now that he had the evidence in front of him. Peter wasn't too bright nor was he particularly talented but James had meet him just as he had Sirius and Remus; on the train to Hogwarts and Peter had followed them ever since. It had been easy to be his friend, Peter was the quiet one, the one that followed them always.

They had helped him when others would've shunned him for being talentless, they had excepted him no matter what - despite all his faults, they all had them so why shun him for his? Now, though, James wanted to get hold of a Time Turner and slap his younger self for not seeing it sooner.

And with a start James realised that he should've noticed. He, a Transfiguration master. He, who mastered his Animagi form first. He, who had poured hours and hours over books and research to find a simpler way the explain the theory to his friends and not once had it crossed his mind on why Peter was a rat of all animals? Sirius was a black dog and he a stag

Another cry joined his, and for a split second his head whipped in the direction of the stairs, fearing for the safety of his daughter but he knew the difference almost straight away. That wasn't his Letti but Harry.

Harry!

James quickly scrambled towards the door, only half his mind on keeping a firm hold on the wand in his right hand and pushed the door open. Lily had pushed as much as she could against the door, Harry's dresser, the rocking chair painted a red for Gryffindor, the ottoman and half the bookshelf. Juliette had yet to be moved into the room, still sleeping in a cot next to Lily at night.

The room was freezing and James wondered about the safety of the floor as he stepped in. He wasn't prepared for the sight.

The room looked like a muggle bulldozer had been at it but James knew what it really was - a spell rebounding. His Lily was a charms major and had droned on and on about the dangers of rebounding magic. One had to think of this when applying it with magic. This was why James liked Transfiguration, there was more danger being stuck as an armchair than the painful death that was alarmingly high with inventors.

James eyes landed on his wife and just as he feared, she lay limp and staring. Her face was a mix of fear, bravery and shock. For one second, James hoped she would burst into a smile and bound up, as right as rain and welcome him home with a hug and a kiss. She was an awful cook but each day she would try her hand, trying to be the wife she wanted to be and James almost yearned for the smell of something burning.

He tore his eyes away, unwilling to let the image of her burn into his mind - he refused to let this be his last memory of her. Limp and unsmiling, unresponsive - that wasn't his Lily. Behind her in his crib was Harry.

He had stopped his crying at the sight his father, green eyes staring curiously as his plump hands reached up and gripped the cot, pulling himself to his feet. "Dadda?"

James went to his son, knees impossibly weak and shaky, relief clawing at his chest. Somehow, impossibly, he was alive.

James swooped upon him like a deranged man, sobbing and crushed the infant to his chest. Harry's plump hands wrapped around James, fear still crawling at his insides. "Dadda - Mummy playing?"

It took James a second to realise his sons words. Of course, he didn't understand. He thought she was playing but it couldn't be the furthest thing from the truth. Lily Potter would never play again.

James pulled back, to place a kiss on his forehead and finally noticed the cut that hadn't been there when he left. It was shaped like a bolt of lightening, blazing red and angry. James was sure that was where Voldemort had aimed his curse. Yet, how had his son survived? Was Voldemort gone? Was that it? No more war?

Howling, James suddenly heard howling. A man crying. Hagrid. The gaping hole let James see down into the street, where Bathilda still stood watching the house, casting wary looks up and down the street as she updated the huge shaking form of Rubeus Hagrid. James had known him since he was a first year fresh into Hogwarts - Hagrid was usually the first contact Firsties got once they stepped off the Hogwarts Express and onto Hogsmeade Station. The amount of times Hagrid had chased James, Sirius, Lupin and Peter from the forbidden forest was unbelievable but he never sold them out to Dumbledore. He knew Hagrid was a softie, as huge and big as he was his heart was even bigger and it made his grief even worse.

James turned away and glanced around his sons room, mindful to block out his wife and with a shaking hand, he fetched Harry's blanket from his cot and wrapped it around him. If Hagrid was here, then James was sure Dumbledore wouldn't be coming.

As he crossed the room, something cluttered across the wood flooring and James saw a pale stick of wood just lying there abandoned. He knew in that moment what had happened, for Lord Voldemort would never leave his wand behind.

Such a powerful weapon, one that had carved Voldemorts murderous path. The wand that powered the spell to kill his wife and marked his son. James felt a kind of manic pleasure at the thought of snapping it, breaking it as if it were nothing more than a stick but the creaking stairs whipped him out of his thoughts and James moved swiftly passed it.

"James?" Hagrid stood stooped, much to big to fit in the small hallway, he seemed unable to believe his eyes. "Bethilda says you were with Sirius -"

"I was - Harry's fine." Sweet Merlin, it was like a release, as if he hadn't truly let it sink in despite seeing him and holding him that Harry was truly alive until he said the words. James was sure that it was only Harry that kept him standing now, just as it had been Letti who held him up once he saw his home in ruins.

The relief was short lived. Short lived because of the grief and pain quickly followed and because of the realisation that dawned on Hagrids face as he looked him over.

"Lily?" He choked. "Is she..?"

The question seemed to suffocate James; he wordlessly opened his mouth, closed it and squeezed his eyes shut. James knew he was falling apart at the seams - very rarely was he unable to string two words together - he felt like Snivellus after a good Impedimenta.

"J-just move out of my way, Hagrid." He gritted out. A list. He needed to make a list - thats what Lily would say. Organise, plan, then act. James had a different way of doing things, a different order. Plan, organise then act. It was very, very effective.

"James! Merlin, Lily -" The sound of his best friends voice whipped him somewhat into shape. James pushed past Hagrid, mindful of Harry and Sirius came in like a blur.

Sirius Black quickly spied the blue blanket, the mop of black hair and his best friend looking like he had aged twenty years in the fifteen minutes since he'd last seen him and paled impossibly more. He had no hope that Lily and Harry had survived - Voldemort had taken a chuck out of the house in the fight but oddly, Harry's blankets had only the faintest shattering of dust, there was no blood and Harry's plump hands were firmly gripping at his Dadda; his breathing ragged.

"How?" Was all he asked as he looked his godson over. James didn't let him go but moved his arms. "His forehead..."

"Healers." James said vaguely but he didn't have much hope. Was it Dark magic Voldemort had used? If so, then no healer would be able to remove such a mark but a scar was better than the unthinkable. "Pad - I think -" James swallowed, the pale wand he had left upstairs meant something. "I think Voldemort is g-gone - his wand is still up there. By the dresser."

"Galloping Gargoyles!" Hagrid said and Sirius stared dumbly at James for a minute. "Yeh can't be serious, James! He's not gone - he can't be.."

Sirius knew his best friend, Merlin, he'd go as far as say that James was his brother, the sibling he should've had and he knew he wouldn't lie. Ending Voldemort had been their goal since sixth year. Still, it was hard to imagine and Sirius was stuck for words again.

"Gone? But that means.."

"The war ends." James said as he gazed down at his son, who's green eyes were hidden behind his eyelids.

Let me know what you all think! Thank you for giving my story the chance.