Chapter One
– October 31st, 1981 –
Twenty-one-year-old James Fleamont Potter raced as fast as his broom could take him, anxiety coursing as news echoed in his mind: Voldemort, the dark wizard who had shattered so many lives, was at his home. James had set out only moments ago, intending to bring back sweets for his wife, Lily, and their young children, blissfully unaware that danger lurked just beyond the familiar walls of their sanctuary.
As he soared through the chilly evening air, dread settled in his stomach. He abruptly dismounted his broom, its enchanted wood creaking slightly under the abrupt motion, and sprinted towards the front door.
"Lily! Monty! Kids!" he called out, his voice echoing through the quiet house, desperation rising with each unanswered shout. The silence was oppressive until he heard the faint sound of tiny feet pattering above him on the second floor. Without hesitation, he dashed up the staircase, each step feeling heavier as fear clawed at his heart.
Upon reaching the second floor, he was greeted by a small figure bursting into his legs, looking up with wide hazel eyes filled with tears. It was Fleamont Henry Potter II, his six-year-old son, who was sobbing loudly, his distress palpable. James's heart ached at the sight, but he couldn't linger.
"Where's your mother? Where's Harry?" James urged, barely registering the other children—Sirius Remus, just five; Baelfire Horace, four; and his other little ones—huddled in the hallway, looking scared and uncertain.
With a heavy heart and determination surging through him, James pushed open the door to the nursery, which he found sent ice through his veins. Laying on the floor, bathed in the soft light filtering through the window, was Lily—his beloved wife—unmoving and lifeless. The reality crashed in on him like a tidal wave. He fought back tears, knowing he couldn't dwell in this moment of despair, not when his children needed him.
He turned back towards his children, counting them with trembling fingers—fourteen. Fleamont Henry was there, his tear-streaked face pale with fear. Sirius and Baelfire clung to each other, while the younger ones—three-year-old James Fleamont II, two-year-old twins Matthew Lyn and Penelope Grace, and the one-year-old quadruplets Harry James, Euphemia Matilda, Charlotte Aimee, and Azalea Petunia.
And then, in a nearby cradle, the three-day-old quadruplets—Willow Ivy, Jasmine Regina, Rosalie Lillian, and Rosebud Ava—lay quietly, blissfully unaware of the chaos swirling around them. James felt a surge of protectiveness, but in that moment, he also knew time was running out. The shadows of darkness pressed upon him, and he had to be their shield.
With a grim resolve, he steeled himself for the fight that lay ahead, knowing he would do anything to keep his children safe from the horrors that threatened to tear their family apart.
James Potter released a shaky breath, the weight of the moment resting heavily on his chest. With trembling hands, he extracted his wand from his cloak pocket, its familiar coolness a small comfort amidst his turmoil. He whispered a spell under his breath, watching as his children’s belongings shimmered and shrank down in size, neatly fitting into a charm-enhanced pouch. Next, he conjured a sturdy stroller that Lily had once described with fondness—a model designed to accommodate multiple children, ensuring his fourteen little ones would be safe and snug.
A tumult of emotions surged within him; he felt the urge to seek out his closest friends, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, yet a deep-seated fear gripped his heart. He had been betrayed today by a member of their inner circle, and the pain of that treachery festered in his mind. He wrestled with the thought that perhaps he didn’t know who could be trusted anymore. The very people he had once considered brothers felt like potential threats now, and this distrust pulled him further into isolation.
Resolutely, he stepped outside into the cold, dark autumn night, his breath misting in the frigid air. He covered the stroller with a thick blanket, a practical choice to conceal his children from prying eyes, and instinctively drew the hood of his cloak over his head to hide his face. Every shadow felt menacing as he prepared to flee the safety of his home, knowing he had to escape before anyone else arrived—before the search for him began.
Moments after he slipped out, he caught a glimpse of another wizard racing toward his house, urgency painted across his features. James felt a wave of panic wash over him. Today—October 31st, 1981—was not just any day; it marked the tragic loss of his beloved Lily and transformed the life of James Potter and his fourteen children into a tumultuous journey of survival. They would be considered missing to the outside world, but James knew the truth: they were not lost yet. Yet, the fear of revealing their whereabouts to his former friends hung heavily in the air, pressing down on him as he escaped into the night.
– June 10th, 1986 –
"I can't believe you'll attend a different school next year, Monty! I'm going to miss you!" ten-year-old Kenneth "Kenny" Smith exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief and sadness as he leaned against the bus's cool metal frame.
"Do you mean we'll all miss him?" queried ten-year-old Simon Fisher, his brow furrowing slightly as he looked up from fiddling with his shoelaces.
"You know how Kenny is. He's always thinking about himself," remarked eleven-year-old Nico Nicholas, rolling his eyes playfully as he settled into his seat. His dark hair fell over his forehead, and he tried to conceal the smirk that threatened to break out.
The four boys—Kenny, Simon, Nico, and ten-year-old Fleamont "Monty" Henry Evans—took their usual spots on the school bus, their laughter mingling with the symphony of chatter from their classmates. Kenny and Simon squeezed into the seat by the window, their backpacks overflowing with books and snacks, while Monty and Nico slid into the row behind them, the sun casting warm rays across their faces.
"We've got all summer to hang out before I head off to my new school," Monty said, trying to lighten the mood as he leaned forward, a hopeful smile on his lips. "And remember, I'll be back during winter break! Plus, I can send letters to my dad, and he can pass them along to you three." His eyes sparkled with excitement as he spoke, a palpable energy surrounding him despite the bittersweet news.
The bus jolted as it pulled away from the curb, and the boys shared jokes and memories, each moment feeling more precious knowing they were facing change. As the scenery blurred outside the window, they clung to the promise of their summer adventures and the bonds they had forged, suddenly knowing they would have to cherish every second before Monty embarked on this new chapter of his life.
"If we go to your house, I don't want any of your siblings bothering us when we're in the basement, playing D&D," Kenny said, his voice laced with exasperation. "Sorry, Mont, but your siblings can be a bit much, especially Rosebud."
Monty's smile faded almost instantly, his usually soft hazel eyes transforming into a stern glare aimed squarely at Kenny. "My siblings are not annoying. They all look up to me!" he retorted, a hint of frustration creeping into his tone. "Sure, my dad told me I don't have to babysit them if I don't want to; it's not the older siblings' job, after all. But that doesn't mean I'll push them away when they need me. I love my siblings—every single one of them, all fourteen."
Monty had fourteen siblings, a bustling crew that brought chaos and warmth to their home. Their names painted a vivid picture: nine-year-old Sirius Remus Evans, always with a mischievous grin; eight-year-old Baelfire Horace Evans, endlessly curious; seven-year-old James Fleamont Evans II, known for his infectious laugh; and the six-year-old identical twins, Matthew Lyn and Penelope Grace Evans, whose playful antics often left Monty chuckling helplessly.
Then there were the five-year-old quadruplets: Harry James and Euphemia Matilda Evans, who looked so alike with their jet-black hair and bright smiles, while Charlotte Aimee and Azalea Petunia Evans were identical as well, though with strikingly different eye colors—Charlotte's were vivid green and Azalea's a warm hazel. The whirlwind continued with the four-year-old quadruplets: Willow Ivy and Jasmine Regina Evans, who were identical in every way but their outfits, and Rosalie Lillian and Rosebud Ava Evans, equally indistinguishable in looks but with wildly different personalities.
Finally, there was the youngest, two-year-old Emma Ruth Evans, whose cherubic features and an innocent grin could melt even the sternest of hearts. Monty's heart swelled with pride for his large family, each sibling a unique star in the galaxy of their household, filling it with love, laughter, and sometimes a little bit of chaos.
The distinct appearances of Monty and his fourteen siblings tell a vivid story of their family heritage. Monty, the eldest, boasts striking dark red hair that catches the light and hazel eyes that seem to change his mood. His brother, Sirius, shares this deep red hue but adds a scholarly touch with his glasses perched on his nose, enhancing his hazel eyes, which twinkle with intelligence.
Baelfire stands out among the siblings, with his jet-black hair contrasting dramatically against his bright green eyes, giving him a mysterious, almost otherworldly presence. Jim, the next brother, also has dark red hair but shares a special connection with their late mother through his own vibrant green eyes that mirror hers.
Twins Matthew, affectionately known as Matt, and Penelope, or Penny, possess the same lush jet-black hair as Baelfire. Their hazel eyes reflect the influence of their father, giving them a familial bond that is immediately apparent.
Harry and Euphemia, known to their family as Mia, illustrate the blend of the family's features, sporting glossy jet-black hair and bright green eyes, a striking color that commands attention. They both wear glasses, which add to their studious demeanor.
Charlotte, often called Char, and Azalea, or Aza, are another pair of twins. They both flaunt dark red hair, a family trademark; Char's bright green eyes sparkle with vivacity, while Aza's hazel eyes carry a softer, more introspective look.
Willow and Jasmine are a striking duo with elegant jet-black hair and hazel eyes. However, those eyes often remain hidden behind stylish glasses, giving them an air of mystery while highlighting their shared beauty.
The youngest sisters, Rosalie—posted as Rosa—and Rosebud, frequently referred to as Rose, share the signature dark red hair and bright green eyes, though their contrast lies in their eyewear: Rosa is free of glasses, showing off her unfiltered gaze, while Rose, with spectacles in place, exudes an intellectual charm.
Lastly, Emma stands apart with her radiant blonde hair that glimmers in the sunlight and her captivating green eyes, completing the tapestry of unique yet intertwined familial characteristics that define this remarkable family.
Monty was jolted from his thoughts as he noticed the yellow school bus screech to a halt at his usual pick-up spot. He quickly stood up, adjusting the straps of his backpack, and waved energetically at his three friends, who were chatting animatedly as they climbed aboard. As the bus doors swung shut with a heavy thud, Monty watched it pull away, dust swirling in its wake. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he turned to head toward his home, the familiar path lined with trees and quaint houses a stark contrast to the turmoil in his mind.
He couldn't shake the weight of the secret he was carrying. Monty's heart raced at the thought that he would soon start at Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, not just any year, but on September 1st—his eleventh birthday. It was a milestone he had looked forward to since childhood. The history of magic ran deep in his family, a lineage his small town of Storybrook, Maine, was all too aware of. The townsfolk, from the shopkeepers to the mayor herself, Mayor Mills—who, incidentally, his lively eight-year-old brother Baelfire had a crush on—were privy to the magical heritage. However, they remained blissfully unaware of the more fantastic mystical world surrounding them.
Monty's thoughts drifted to his adopted sister, the tiny but fiercely curious two-year-old Emma Ruth Evans. As their father affectionately called her, she was a No-Maj-born or Muggle-born. The notion of her joining them at Ilvermorny in just a few years filled Monty with excitement and protective instinct. He couldn't help but worry about how she would navigate the intricacies of the magical and Muggle worlds when the time came. But for now, he took a deep breath, steeling himself as he approached the front door of their home, the weight of his hidden truth heavy on his shoulders yet brimming with potential adventure ahead.
Monty walked steadily towards his family home, a structure as grand and sprawling as Mayor Mill's residence, with its tall windows and intricate woodwork. As he pushed open the heavy door, the familiar scent of home—freshly baked bread and warm spices—invited him in. Upon entering the spacious dining room, Monty was met with a chorus of voices mingling in lively conversation.
The dining room was large, furnished with a polished oak table that could seat the whole family, and adorned with a cheerful floral centerpiece. Monty's family dynamics were complex, given the size of their household. He shared a modestly sized room with his younger brother, Sirius, while Baelfire occupied a room with Jim, filled with books and various gadgets they tinkered with in their free time. Matt and Harry shared their space, often the site of late-night laughter and whispered secrets. Penny, the youngest sister, enjoyed the luxury of a private room decorated in pastel colors that reflected her gentle spirit. Meanwhile, Willow and Jasmine, inseparable sisters, had their room adorned with matching bedding and dreamy fairy lights, creating a cozy haven. Rosa, Rose, and Emma each cherished their rooms—a rare privilege amidst the bustling household.
Monty's attention was drawn back to the dining room, where his father, James Fleamont Evans I, deeply conversed with Mr. Gold, the distinguished owner of Gold Pawnbroker & Antiquities Dealer. With his keen eye for rare artifacts and a flair for storytelling, Mr. Gold often captivated Monty and his fourteen siblings with tales of his adventures. Their friendship had flourished over the years, especially when Mr. Gold would come to babysit the rambunctious crew, helping to keep the chaos in check.
However, recently, Monty couldn't help but notice the unique bond between Mr. Gold and Baelfire. It was as if the older man viewed Baelfire not just as a friend's son but as his own. The way Mr. Gold leaned in when Baelfire spoke (when Baelfire was around), his eyes glimmering with warmth and pride, stirring a mix of curiosity and confusion within Monty. He wondered what secrets lay behind that connection, fueling his imagination as he silently observed the scene unfolding before him.
"Monty! How was your last day of school?" his dad asked, glancing towards him when he noticed Monty trudging into the dining room, his backpack slung over one shoulder.
"It was okay," Monty replied with a sigh, placing his worn-out backpack on the chair, the faint smell of pencil shavings still lingering inside. "But that girl wouldn't leave me alone ever since she learned I was attending a different school. I told her I didn't like her, but she wouldn't listen. And then she had the nerve to say it back to me! I don't get why she can't take a hint!"
His dad frowned thoughtfully, adjusting his glasses as he studied Monty's expression. "I'm relieved you'll be attending a different school next year. Yes, she's only ten, but honestly, I was worried she might do something to hurt you or even lie to your teachers about you out of spite."
Monty opened his mouth to respond, but his thoughts were interrupted when Sirius burst into the room, his voice laced with urgency, "Dad! Bae is crying!"
Monty's dad and Mr. Gold, who had been sharing a lighthearted conversation, immediately sprang from the dining table, their chairs scraping against the floor. Monty could feel his irritation as he watched them rush out, but he sighed softly. Yes, he loved his dad dearly, but competing for his attention with his siblings, who always needed something, was frustrating.
Consciously shaking off the nagging jealousy, he followed, curiosity overpowering his feelings. As he entered the front room, his irritation quickly dissipated when he saw Baelfire perched on the edge of the couch, his face marred with a fresh, angry-looking black eye. Monty's older brother's instincts kicked in instantly. He rushed over, concerned about washing over him as he took in Baelfire's ashen complexion and trembling lip.
Baelfire sat between their father and Mr. Gold, tears glistening in his wide, distressed eyes, the vibrant chaos of their living room now overshadowed by the moment's seriousness. Monty felt a wave of protectiveness surge through him. Whatever had happened, he knew he had to find out and make sure his brother was alright.
Monty glanced over at Mr. Gold, who was watching them with unsettling intensity, his brown eyes narrowed into slits that hinted at dark intentions. Despite the tension in the air, Monty's thoughts were consumed with concern for his younger brother, Baelfire.
"What happened?" Monty's dad asked, his voice laced with worry as he knelt to meet Baelfire's gaze. The boy's face was flushed and tear-streaked, his eyes shimmering with frustration and hurt.
"A kid in school was making fun of my name! I tried to stand up for myself, but he punched me, Dad! Why do I have such a stupid name?!" Baelfire cried, his voice breaking as he wiped away tears.
Monty's dad opened his mouth to respond, but the words vanished when Mr. Gold interjected, his tone unexpectedly soothing. "In some cultures, the name Baelfire carries a powerful significance," he said gently, his voice steady like the calm before a storm. "It's associated with protective fires that are lit to ward off evil spirits and bring safety to those in need. You shouldn't hate your name, Bae. I know your… father has been living here for a few years. However, I can help you find a way to ensure that others leave you alone."
Monty watched as Baelfire's expression began to soften, curiosity mingling with lingering pain, and he hoped that Mr. Gold's words might light a spark of confidence within his brother.
Monty felt adrenaline surge through him when he heard a sharp cry from upstairs. Glancing over, he saw his father, a tall figure with worry etched across his face, rising abruptly from the couch in the living room. Monty quickly reached out, his voice steady and reassuring, "Dad, I can go get Emma. Bae needs you right now."
"Thank you, Monty," his dad replied, his voice tinged with exhaustion as he settled back down, relief washing over his features.
Monty scrambled up the staircase with a determined nod, the familiar creaking of the steps underfoot a comforting constant in the chaos. He reached his sister's room and gently pushed the door open. The sight that met his eyes warmed his heart—his two-year-old sister, Emma, was sitting amidst a colorful array of plush toys and dolls scattered across the carpet.
Monty's face broke into a soft smile as he bent down, scooping her into his arms. Emma beamed at him, her cherubic cheeks dimpled with joy. "Mon-Mon!" she exclaimed, her tiny voice bubbling with excitement.
Monty chuckled softly, settling onto the floor with her in his lap. He released her, watching as she tottered unsteadily toward her collection of dolls, her little legs wobbling in that adorable way only toddlers could manage. She picked out two of her favorite dolls—one with brown curls and bright blue eyes, the other a pink princess. Carefully, she returned to Monty, proudly handing him one of her dolls, her eyes sparkling with mischief and delight.
Despite the moment's joy, Monty felt a weight of contemplation settles in his chest. He knew Emma was adopted—a fact his father had warned him to keep quiet about as she grew older. Yet, Monty sensed deep down that the truth was important. One day, when Emma was old enough to understand, he would have to show her the reality of her origins. For now, he watched her play, a mixture of love and protectiveness swelling inside him. She was still far too young to grasp the complexities of life, but he promised himself that he would stand by her side when the time came to unveil the truth.