Hey, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy. This is kind of about how we shouldnt forget those who fought in the World Wars, as well as being about Harry Potter.

A little girl trotted quietly beside her mother and father as they strolled along a sleepy lane in an ordinary English village, peering at the cottages that edged the road, partially screened by their wild hedges.

'Is it far now?' She piped up. It was taking forever, she thought. They were running out of cottages in Godric's Hollow. It must be coming soon.

'No, not far now.' The girl's mother said. 'It's the last one.'

The girl tried to stand on her tiptoes whilst walking, and she stumbled.

'I can't see it!' she whined as she regained her balance.

'That's because it's hidden behind the trees.' Her father smiled. 'We'll see it in a minute.'

The girl kept quiet even though the anticipation was starting to excite her, and soon they were drawing level with the trees her father had pointed out.

'Where is it?' she squeaked excitedly, jumping up to try and glimpse the ruined house through the wild and overgrown hedge.

'Its behind the hedge,' her father laughed. 'We'll go to the gate to see it.'

'Lift me up!' she squeaked, pulling at her father's leg.

'I doubt you'll be able to see anything!' her mother exclaimed. 'The hedge is taller than daddy!'

And sure enough, even when her father put her on his shoulders, the girl could see nothing over the wild tangle of branches, not even when she stretched herself as tall as she would go.

'Mummy told you!' her father laughed. 'Let's go to the gate.'

The girl held onto her father's hair as he strode off towards a slight gap in the leaves where the gate must be.

The girl strained forwards on her father's shoulders as they neared the opening, desperate to be the first one to see the ruins, holding her breath.

With one last giant step, the girl's father reached the gate and turned towards the house.

'Oh!' the girl exclaimed as she took in the sight.

Nestled among the waist high grass and tangle of brambles and weeds was a small cottage completely covered in trailing ivy, so much so that the cottage just looked like a giant ivy plant. It would have almost identical to the ones they had passed on the way, if it were not for the plant life that had consumed it, except for the fact that there was a curved hole in one of the top corners where the walls and part of the roof had been blown away. The girl could see the piles of crumbling stone and bricks that lay half submerged in the grass surrounding the house.

'Well?' her father asked quietly. 'What do you think?'

'It's just a big clump of ivy with a hole in it.' She said, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

'Yes,' her mother said. 'That's all it is.'

'But what happened here is much more important.' Her father said, tilting his head back to peer up at his daughter. 'Do you remember the story?'

'Yes!' the little girl said. 'It is where Harry Potter lived when he was a baby!'

'That's right.' Her father smiled. 'And what else?'

'It's where his mummy and daddy got killed by Voldemort. And Voldemort tried to kill baby Harry too, but instead it hit him and he fled!' the girl said.

'That's right.' Her father said again.

'And the house got blown up, and Voldemort ran away, and Harry Potter went to stay with the Muggles. But Voldemort wasn't dead and he came back, and Harry Potter killed him again!' she continued. 'But I thought it would look more exciting than that.'

'Looks are deceptive.' Her father smiled and reached up to lift her and set her upon the ground.

'Touch the gate.' Her mother said, and the girl reached forward gingerly to lay a small hand upon the metal that was crumbling with rust.

The girl gasped in wonder and quickly withdrew her hand as a wooden sign rose from the ground in front of them.

'What does it say mummy?' the girl asked, pulling at her mother's sleeve.

'It says:

"On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981,
Lily and James Potter lost their lives.
Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse
This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a momentum to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family along with so many others during the Great Wizzarding Wars.
Let it never be forgotten the terror and sadness experienced by so many during those times, and the amazing courage shown by those that gave their lives so that we could have a future."

The little girl looked up at her parent's solemn faces.

'You should never forget this house, petal.' Her father said gently.

'Why?' the girl asked.

'Because of what the sign says.' He told her. 'You should never forget the how terrible things were back then. This house if the ghost, an echo, of the horrible things that were happening to people. We should never forget how brave the people who fought Voldemort were.

'People like Harry Potter?' she asked.

'Especially Harry Potter.' Her father said. 'He was the bravest of them all.'

'He was only young when he killed Voldemort,' her mother explained. 'The same age as Cousin Lucy.'

'I wouldn't want Cousin Lucy to be fighting.' The girl said quietly.

'No,' her mother said. 'That is why he was so brave.'

'Did granddad fight?' she asked.

'No, he was only your age.' Her mother said. 'Your great-granddad did though. Great-granddad Dennis's brother did too, and he was killed in the Battle of Hogwarts.'

The girl stared at the house. It was beyond her young mind to comprehend what her parents were trying to explain to her, but someday she would understand just how important it was to remember the sacrifices people who lived so long ago made just so she could live.

'Are we going to see Harry Potter now?' the girl asked, turning back to her parents.

'Yes, we can go and see him now.' Her father said, still staring at the ruined house.

'Where is he?' she asked.

Her father tore his eyes away from the house and stooped to sweep the girl up and place her on his shoulders again.

'He's buried next to his parents in the graveyard, just up the road.' He took up his wife's hand and cast one last look at the house, gently gripping his daughter's knee, before they walked quietly away, remembering.