Holly Potter: The Girl Who Lived Part I
Prolouge
"Oh James, she is absolutely beautiful," Lily Potter marveled at her new baby daughter. Her husband smiled and squeezed as wife's shoulder's lightly.
"I think we should give her a name right now," he suggested sweetly, pushing his glasses back up his nose.
"How about Nicole?"
"Doesn't look like one. Physhe?"
"Why scar our baby for life?"
"Alright, no wizarding names...Jackie?"
"That's nice. Maybe Michelle?"
"Every Michelle that I've met is blonde. How about...Holly?"
"Holly Jamie Potter!"
Lily and James Potter were the proudest parents on Earth. They felt as though they had accomplished everything. They were married, lived in a cosy cottage and now had a gorgeous baby girl with black hair and green eyes, a nose as cute as a button and skin soft as silk.
Their daughter grew into a happy toddler. Their life was perfect. Until Hallow'en night, 1981.
Their tale is true, but almost unbelievable. Holly was worshipped in every Wizarding household. How the British longed to touch her hand. How the German pondered on how a baby could defeat the world's evilest socerror. How the French wondered why the British were so lucky to have such an amazing hero amoung their reigns.
But Holly Potter had no idea that she could do magic, that she was famous, or even how her parents died. She had always felt as though she was Cinderella, with an ugly cousin and horrible relatives. She felt as though she had no reason to live and often wondered why God had even decided to make her. She felt as though she was a mistake. She had no friends, no loving family Actually, no. She did have friends.
Friends no one knew about.