So I've been playing around with this idea in my head for a while. Please give it a chance!
A/N I do not own Harry Potter.
Chapter One
He was sure there would be bruises in the morning.
Harry had to continuously pinch his pale, almost see through skin to ensure he wasn't dreaming.
A great big and friendly man by the name of Hagrid had arrived into his life. And promptly told him he was a wizard, his mom and dad a witch and wizard respectfully, and an entire magical world existed with letter carrying owls, goblins and wands. Most importantly, he would be finally escaping the Dursleys in September to a place called 'Hogwarts.'
Harry thought, 'I might actually belong there.'
There would be no more cupboard under the stairs, no more of Aunt Petunia's scornful looks, no more of Dudley's bullying, no more waiting for the next explosion from Uncle Vernon.
No more.
If this was a dream, Harry desperately wanted to stay sleeping.
As pleasant as it was, he could not escape the whispers.
'The sister-' they whispered at the pub.
'The poor little girl-' the woman murmured sadly.
'Little Grace, the wizarding world remembers.' the older man had said, pulling a young girl - Harry assumed who was his granddaughter – closer to him.
Grace.
There was something about that name. A whisp of a memory – which Harry wasn't even sure was a memory – was pulling at him.
Grace.
A high pitched giggle. Bright green eyes. Bouncy, curly hair.
A delighted squeal, "Harry! Harry! Play, Harry! Come on Harry!"
Grace.
His heart raced just thinking about it.
There was something.
He had to ask.
Hagrid was explaining something called a snitch when Harry cut him off, "Who is Grace?"
Hagrid stopped, "Grace?" he echoed.
"People keep talking about her." Harry responded, "and I – I want – need to know who-I think she -"
Hagrid cut him off with a whisper, "No one told you bout Grace, Harry?"
Harry stared at Hagrid for a long time. Then shook his head.
The big man mumbled something about the Dursleys under his breath.
"Harry, see – Grace was – is – I mean – codswallop.' He cut himself off, muttering under his breath again.
"There wasn't just yer mum and dad in yer house that night You Know Who came for ye lot. You had a sister. Grace was her name."
Harry's heart stopped. He was sure of it.
A sister.
Hagrid was nodding, "Aye. A sister. She was – she was," Hagrid began but could not finish as big, fat tears began to roll down his cheeks. He hiccupped and then blew his nose loudly.
"She was a little sprite of a thing, she was. Always smilin' and laughin', always into somethin she was. Adored you she did. She was only 3 when we lost her." Hagrid made a loud, funny noise that sounded like a booming laugh but a choked, dry sob all at once.
"She's dead too, then? My sister?" Harry whispered, already forming an image of the young girl Hagrid had described. The giggle and happy squeal ringing in his ears.
"Yeh didn't know Harry? Them Dursleys didn't say nothin' bout Gracie?" Hagrid asked, shock flooding his features.
Harry shook his head as Hagrid began to mutter once again about them no good Dursleys.
He didn't care if he'd get a beating or go a week without food. He had to know more about his sister.
Grace. Grace. Grace. Grace. His sister Grace.
Harry found Aunt Petunia in the laundry room where she was folding up Uncle Vernon's very large button up.
"Why didn't you ever tell me about Grace?" He demanded, rather hotly for a skinny, newly turned eleven year old.
Aunt Petunia froze in her spot. The only thing that signified life was a twitch in her skinny neck.
She didn't respond.
"I have a right to know that I had a sister."
Again, silence. Petunia did not face him.
Until finally, "Do not mention that name in this household - not under my roof."
Harry felt a rage he had never experienced – "She's my sister."
Petunia still did not turn around, "Was your sister. And that's that. I do not want to see you for the rest of the afternoon and do not mention her again."
She felt like the missing piece. Even more so than his parents.
A child who didn't have the opportunity to grow up; to become someone; to have likes and dislikes, to have friends and hobbies.
Harry wondered what life would have been like with Grace alive. Would she hate the Dursleys like he did? Would she stop Dudley from bullying him?
Would she like Quidditch? What would be her favorite lesson? Would she have loved him as 'Just Harry'?
Hagrid had given him pictures in his first year. He knew would she looked like. He glowed thinking that they resembled each other. She was tiny like him, with dark messy hair like his, and the same green eyes that they got from their mother.
In every photo she was smiling and giggling. In every photo of them together, she was giving him attention and beaming at her little brother with their parents looking down at them fondly.
In his first year, Lord Voldemort taunted him.
In his second year, Tom Riddle teased him with a boyish yet evil grin. Draco Malfoy had announced over the Great Hall that You-Know-Who had blown the three year old Grace to smithereens.
In his third year, Remus Lupin told him all about Harry's mother and father. Their personalities, what they were like, who they were. And while Harry was soaking up every fact, he had to ask.
"Did you know my sister too?"
A sadness Harry hadn't seen before danced across the weary Professor's face. He seemed to have aged a great deal with the mere question about Grace.
"Yes." the professor answered with a sad smile. "Yes I knew Grace. I am so sorry you didn't, Harry."
Harry rushed to ask, "What was she like?"
"She was-" Professor Lupin began but then stopped, "she was very loved."
Months later, Sirius Black sent a kick to Peter Pettigrew's face when he brought up the lost Potter girl.
"HOW DARE YOU MENTION HER?!" Sirius roared, grabbing for Peter's throat, "HOW DARE YOU MENTION GRACIE? YOU KILLED HER. SHE WAS A CHILD, SHE WAS JAMES' GIRL AND YOU AS GOOD AS KILLED HER!"
Harry didn't stop him.
The lost Potter girl they called her.
Harry could still remember that giggle. It was more powerful then his memory of the flashing green light.