To first understand this tale it would be prudent to begin at the very beginning. Our tale starts with a young girl, before she was even born plans were created around her. Plots were schemed and the fates were set.

Her parents knew nothing, only that this young girl was theirs and she needed to be kept safe from the ongoing war.

Alas, the fates stepped in and the young girl was orphaned just after she had turned one. It was then that the fates plans were changed once more, the young girl was given to her next of kin, who happened to be very different than her parents.

You see, this young girl's Aunt and her family lives on the quiet street of Privet Drive. They weren't the only occupants, there were several different residents.

The Henderson's, the Griffin's and Mrs. Figg being a select few that were often seen about doing their daily routines. Number ten held a small family, the Polkiss' they had a young boy, who had to be no more than a year old. Each of these family's lived ordinary lives.

Privet Drive was the last place that anyone would expect to be the home of anything outlandish behaviour, as it just was not tolerated by any of the usual residents. Unfortunately this included the young child our tale is based upon.

The Dursley's, were an active part of the community, happy to fit into the dreary role of their neighbourhood.

This family was made of three different people; Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, al though he did have a very large moustache. His job was not one that supervised the manufacturing process, in fact, his job focused on overseeing the payments that were given to the company, however, the majority of his work was often done by his secretary.

Unlike Mr. Dursley, his wife was a complete contrast of himself. She was stick-thin and she also had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, searching for the latest gossip that had spread along the neighbours.

Like the Polkiss', the Dursley's also had a young child in their house. Just like most parents, both Mr. and Mrs. Dursley felt as though their son was the finest boy within the whole world.

There was one thing that did not fit the Dursley's perfect world. They had a secret. One that terrified them. One that, if it were to get out, could potentially see them shunned within this community.

It was here that the fates were changed.

It was late one night when a man appeared on the corner of Privet Drive, cloaked in the darkness he moved swiftly towards number four. He paused every so often to check the street, almost as if he was waiting for someone else to arrive.

He stepped into a glow of light and revealed himself to the empty street. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus placed a bundle of something on the doorstep before stopping to rummage through a cloak that he wore.

Finally finding it, he gently placed a letter onto of the bundle.

"Good luck, Willow," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

The bundle shifted slightly and inside, just visible, was a baby girl, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over her forehead was a cu riously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.

The letter that laid onto of Willow's bed for the night was short and very to the point. When Mrs. Dursley finds it the following morning it'll read;

Mrs. Petunia Dursley,

I regret to inform you that your sister has been murdered along with her husband.

For eleven years a war has raged in our world and it has finally come to an end, however your niece Willow Potter is left alone and still in danger from some of the opposing team.

It is my hope that you and your husband will care for her and in return you will have my protection from our world.

Albus Dumbledore

A cold breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Willow Potter rolled over inside her blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside her and she slept on, not knowing she was special, not know ing she was famous, not knowing she would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that she would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley… She couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Willow Potter — the girl who lived!"

It is here that the true tale is told, the one that no one seemed to care about. This is Willow's truth.