1
– OCTOBER 31ST, 1981 –
He didn't know what was happening. All six-year-old Fleamont Henry Potter II, affectionately called Monty, grasped was that his mother had hurriedly pushed him and his siblings—excluding Harry—into a cramped closet, the heavy door shutting them in. He cradled his youngest sister in his arms, feeling her soft, warm body against his chest. His hazel eyes, filled with confusion, watched as his mother knelt down to his level, her expression a mixture of urgency and tenderness.
"Monty," she whispered, her voice low but clear, "listen carefully to mummy. If anything happens, you must protect your siblings for me. Can you do that, love?" Her eyes locked onto his with a fierce intensity, as if the weight of her words bore down on them both.
Monty nodded vigorously, a surge of responsibility tumbling through him. After he responded, she leaned in to kiss his forehead softly before gently closing the door, plunging them into dimness. Holding his infant sister tighter, Monty strained to hear over the muffled sounds outside—the chaos unfolding in their home.
Suddenly, a loud crash disrupted the stillness, followed by a harsh male voice slicing through the air. "Move!" the voice ordered, its tone sharp and commanding.
"No! Not him! Please, take me instead!" their mother's voice rose, desperate and pleading.
Monty's heart raced as he listened to her beg, the sound echoing in his ears. "I will let you live if you move," the man replied coldly, his words dripping with menace.
"Please! I'm begging you!" their mother cried, her voice trembling. Monty felt a chill sweep over him at the raw emotion of her plea.
He tensed up when the man yelled out two words that sent a jolt of terror through Monty. A loud thump followed; the dreadful sound reverberated in the confined space of the closet. He swallowed hard, glancing around his brother's room, desperate to make sense of the unfolding events.
Then, he heard Harry's wails pierce the frantic silence. Unable to remain hidden longer, Monty stood resolutely, determined to protect his siblings. He opened the closet door slightly, peering out into the room. His hazel eyes quickly found their mum lying on the floor, still and motionless.
"Mum?" Monty heard his brother, five-year-old Sirius Remus Potter, whisper softly, his voice tremulous with fear and uncertainty.
Monty watched, his heart aching, as Sirius inched closer, shaking their mother gently, desperately trying to rouse her from whatever darkness had claimed her. Four-year-old Baelfire Horace Potter and three-year-old James Fleamont Potter II joined in, their tiny hands grasping at their mother, urging her to wake up. But no matter how fiercely they called her name, she remained unmoving, a haunting stillness enveloping her.
A gut-wrenching realization washed over Monty; it felt as if their mother was never going to wake up again. "Mon-Mon," he heard Harry's tiny voice tremble, his small hands gripping the bars of his crib tightly, his big eyes filled with fear and confusion as he searched for his brother's reassurance. Monty knew he had to be brave now, more than ever.
Monty glanced over his shoulder, unsure if his Uncle Sirius would arrive. The six-year-old boy's heart raced at the thought of yet another dark wizard invading their home, and he felt a tight knot of anxiety in his stomach. Determined to protect his younger siblings, Monty scurried about the house, gathering everything he could think of in a small, rickety cart. His tiny hands were busy checking off items in his mind: enough milk for breakfast, a few sandwiches, and some of his siblings' favorite snacks.
He carefully arranged the supplies, ensuring ample space for his siblings when they joined him. Monty felt a surge of determination; he had to be their protector, their leader. In his young and impressionable mind, he believed his mum wanted him to care for his brothers and sisters as if he were already the head of the family. The thought of him being responsible for their safety filled him with a sense of duty, even though it was a burden far too heavy for someone his age to truly understand.
With a final glance around to ensure he had remembered everything necessary, he grabbed the handles of the cart and pulled it away from the familiar warmth of his home. The house loomed behind him, a place filled with laughter and love and, now, uncertainty. Monty had no clear destination in mind; all he could think about was moving forward and finding a place where his siblings would be safe and sound. As he trudged down the path, the weight of his mission pressed down on him, but with each step, he vowed not to stop until he had done everything in his power to protect the ones he loved.
– Four Years, Seven Months Later – JUNE 1ST, 1986 –
“Have you finished your chores, Sirius?” ten-year-old Fleamont “Monty” Henry Potter II asked, glancing at his nine-year-old brother with a mix of impatience and concern. He gently cradled their four-year-old sister, Rosebud “Rose” Ava Potter, in his arms, her small frame fitting snugly against him. Despite the playfulness of their surroundings, Monty’s expression was severe, his brows slightly furrowed as he tried to keep everything in order.
Monty often thought about his parents, trying to form more explicit memories of them. He had a few fleeting images of their faces and a cherished photograph from the day his younger sisters—Willow, Jasmine, Rosalie, and Rosebud—were born, which he often revisited when he missed them. With his dark red hair that mirrored his late mother, Lillian Marie Potter, and his father’s hazel eyes, Monty felt a bittersweet connection to his past. He often caught glimpses of his late father, James Fleamont Potter I, in himself, especially without the untidy jet-black hair that had been a trademark of his father’s.
Sirius, his younger brother, bore a striking resemblance to their mother, with the same dark red hair cascading over his forehead and those familiar hazel eyes shared between them. However, unlike Monty, Sirius wore glasses, a curious addition that gave him an air of thoughtful intensity as he squinted at Monty in response.
“Ah… Yeah?” Sirius muttered, his voice rising at the end, inflecting uncertainty into what was meant to be a straightforward answer. Monty could tell that his brother wasn’t entirely sure if he had completed his chores or if he was merely hoping to appease him with a vague response.
Monty sighed gently, his breath escaping in a soft wave of exasperation. “Sirius, just to clarify, is that an answer or a question?” He spoke with the kind of calm authority that had developed in him after the tragic loss of their parents. At the tender age of six, Monty had been thrust into the role of caregiver and protector for Sirius and their other siblings, who depended on him in their new life here in Feldcroft.
Feldcroft had become their sanctuary, a place where they could begin to heal amidst the pain of losing their parents. Yet, Monty couldn’t shake the feeling that the adults around them—especially the ancient figures, Sebastian Sallow and Ominis Gaunt I, aged 111—were far too distant and perhaps even oblivious to the struggles the Potter family faced. With the shadow of their parent’s absence looming significantly, Monty was fiercely protective, unwilling to let anyone into their home for fear of losing the precious family he had left.
As he looked at Sirius, frustration and concern flickered across his face. Monty had matured far beyond his years, and each day brought new challenges as he tried to foster a sense of normalcy and safety among his siblings. The weight of responsibility often felt heavy, but he carried it with quiet resolve, determined to keep his family together no matter the cost.
Monty stood by the porch, watching his younger brother Sirius as he kicked at a small stone on the ground. Sirius mumbled, his brow furrowed in frustration, "That's a question. I'm sorry, but why do I have to finish my chores? Baelfire didn't finish his chores, and he's outside playing with his friends." Monty sighed, recognizing his brother's familiar tone of defiance.
Baelfire Horace Potter, the family's eight-year-old middle child, was enjoying a carefree afternoon, utterly oblivious to the responsibilities that awaited him indoors. His tousled hair, the same deep jet-black as their late father's, contrasted sharply with their mother's bright green eyes—a striking combination that often drew attention. While Monty and Sirius carried the weight of their family's expectations, Baelfire frequently seemed to escape those burdens.
"Okay, listen," Monty said, trying to keep his tone patient. "Just finish your chores, and I'll find Baelfire for you." The thought of having to wrangle Baelfire back inside was daunting, but as the older brother, he felt it was his responsibility.
With Rosebud still nestled comfortably in his arms, Monty set off towards the Sallow family's home. The Sallow residence was just down the street, a modest brick house surrounded by vibrant wildflowers that danced in the gentle breeze. Among the Sallow family were the great-grandfather, Sebastian Sallow, who was well into his hundreds but still had a twinkle in his eye, and three young children.
Monty knew that Agatha Anne Sallow, the ten-year-old oldest sibling, had taken on a motherly role for her twin brothers, Elijah Michael and Isaiah Finn, who were eight and brimming with endless curiosity. The lingering sadness of their parents' passing—a tragedy that had struck when the twins were barely a month old—hung over the family, leaving Agatha with more responsibilities than any child should have to shoulder. Monty often felt a sense of admiration for her strength, even if he seldom expressed it.
Despite being older and somewhat more mature than most kids his age, Monty found solace in his friendship with Agatha, who seemed to understand their challenges. Similarly, Baelfire had formed a close bond with Elijah and Isaiah, their laughter echoing through the village.
As Monty approached the Sallow house, he couldn't help but feel a mix of hope and apprehension. He knew that convincing Baelfire to come inside would require more than just a gentle nudge; it would likely involve some negotiation. Balancing the weight of responsibility with the desire for fun was a challenge, but Monty was determined to uphold his role, no matter how difficult it became.
Monty made his way toward the Sallow Home, his heart heavy with the weight of responsibility. As he approached, he noticed Baelfire and the Sallow twins playing outside, laughter ringing through the air alongside Mr. Sallow and Agatha. The scene was one of youthful joy, but it only deepened the frown on Monty’s face.
“Baelfire,” Monty called out, his voice tight with authority. “I thought I mentioned that you needed to finish your chores before joining your friends for playtime.”
Baelfire’s shoulders slumped as he cast his gaze downward, shuffling his feet in the dirt. “I’m sorry, Monty,” he replied earnestly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I really want to spend time with my friends.”
Monty sighed, softening slightly but maintaining his stance. “I understand that you want to play, Little Fire. But we both know that the chores come first if you want to enjoy your free time afterward,” he said, his tone firm yet laced with concern.
At that moment, Mr. Sallow raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “Wouldn’t it be your parents who are responsible for instilling that kind of discipline, Fleamont?” he asked, genuinely curious.
Monty felt a pang of anxiety at Mr. Sallow’s question. He averted his eyes, realizing he had inadvertently revealed too much. The truth was a heavy burden he had carried alone since he was six years old, and the last thing he wanted was for Mr. Sallow to learn the truth about his tragic past. As thoughts of his parents, Lily and James Potter, and the weight of raising his thirteen siblings flooded his mind, guilt settled in his stomach. Mr. Sallow and Mr. Gaunt had always supported him and his siblings, and they deserved honesty.
In that moment of introspection, Monty resolved to come clean. “Mr. Sallow,” he said, his voice trembling slightly but gaining strength, “I need to tell you the truth. I’ve been hiding things from you and Mr. Gaunt. My parents… they were murdered when I was just six years old. Their names were Lily and James Potter.” Each word felt like a stone tumbling from his heart, freeing him.
“I’ve been taking care of my thirteen siblings for the past four years,” he continued, his eyes rising to meet Mr. Sallow’s gaze, filled with vulnerability and bravery. “I didn’t want them to be taken away from me, so I thought it was best to keep that part of my life a secret. I believed this place would offer us some safety and stability.”
Monty took a deep breath, the weight of his confession settling heavily in the air around them. “I’m truly sorry for lying to both you and Mr. Gaunt.”
Monty could sense the growing tension in the air as he closely observed Mr. Sallow's expression. An intensity in Mr. Sallow's eyes made Monty bristle, confident that a sharp retort would erupt. However, he was taken aback when Mr. Sallow spoke with unexpected thoughtfulness, "If I had known your children were alone in the house, I would have stepped in to help you sooner. I'm confident Ominis would have been eager to assist, too. I understand the fierce need you feel to protect your siblings. And I realize you and Agatha are set to attend Hogwarts on September 1."
Monty's heart quickened at the mention of Hogwarts. The stories his late mother used to share about the renowned wizarding school flooded back to him—tales filled with enchantment, friendship, and adventure. He longed to be a part of that world, yet a heavy weight of responsibility tethered him firmly to the ground. "Mr. Sallow," Monty began hesitantly, his voice tinged with hope and despair, "I can't go to Hogwarts. I have to be there for my siblings. They need me."
Mr. Sallow nodded solemnly, his expression severe yet understanding. "Yes, I agree that your siblings are important," he conceded, "but Hogwarts holds significance too. Think of it this way: you will attend this year, and then Sirius will follow next year while you're busy in your second year. Each year, your siblings will also make their way to Hogwarts. Ominis and I will look after them while you are away. Everything will work out, I promise you. You deserve to experience Hogwarts and enjoy your childhood, Fleamont. Trust me, you will enjoy it there. Were your parents alumni of Hogwarts?"
As Monty placed Rose gently on the ground, where she instinctively toddled over towards the Sallow twins, he took a moment to gather his thoughts before responding. "Yes," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "They were Gryffindors. They used to tell me stories about their adventures before they were murdered. In fact, I think they were still at Hogwarts when I was born. I remember they were just twenty-one when they died, and I was six at the time."
At this revelation, Monty watched Mr. Sallow slow his breath, closing his eyes briefly as he processed the weight of those words. When Mr. Sallow opened his eyes again, his gaze was softened. "If my calculations are correct," he said gently, "your parents must have been only fifteen when you were born. Considering the courage Gryffindors are known for, it's no wonder they embrace such a responsibility while still in Hogwarts... I'm only joking, Fleamont." Monty couldn't help but crack a faint smile, feeling a flicker of warmth amid the severe conversation.
Monty stood with a furrowed brow, acutely aware that Mr. Sallow was trying to persuade him to enroll at Hogwarts. The thought of leaving his younger siblings behind weighed heavily on his heart. Although he knew deep down that they wouldn't be entirely alone—Mr. Sallow and Mr. Gaunt were nearby to supervise—Monty felt a profound sense of responsibility. For the past four years, he had raised his siblings single-handedly, forging an unbreakable bond with them that made the prospect of leaving seem insurmountable.
He opened his mouth to voice his concerns but was abruptly interrupted. Two small figures came barreling toward him, laughter bubbling through the air. His six-year-old twin siblings, Matthew Lyn and Penelope Potter were racing toward him with uncontainable enthusiasm. The twins were a mirror image of each other, sporting the same tousled jet-black hair that framed their cherubic faces and vibrant hazel eyes. Monty often told them how much they resembled their father, a man they had only heard stories about, but hearing it always made Matt and Penny brim with pride.
As they slowed down, Monty's attention was drawn to a frenzied blur darting gleefully between them—a shaggy black dog's tongue lolling out as it raced with abandon. Suddenly, Monty felt a tug at his shirt. Looking down, he saw his younger sister, Rose, with her striking dark red hair cascading around her delicate shoulders and bright green eyes wide with distress. Seeing the energetic dog seemed to unsettle her, and Monty instinctively scooped her up, holding her close. Rose wrapped her tiny arms tightly around his neck, seeking comfort in his presence.
Just then, Agatha joined Monty, standing resolutely beside him. The ten-year-old girl had an air of quiet strength, her expression serious as she observed the scene. Mr. Sallow placed himself protectively near Agatha and Monty, his posture vigilant, ready to intervene if needed. The air was filled with excitement and apprehension, creating a charged atmosphere around the group as they navigated this delicate moment. Torn between his siblings and the promise of adventure at Hogwarts, Monty felt the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him like never before.
"Big brother! Big brother! Can we please keep him?!" Matt and Penny exclaimed in unison, their hazel eyes sparkling with excitement and hope as they pointed at the scruffy dog.
Monty initially felt a surge of resistance, ready to deny their plea, but his gaze was irresistibly drawn to the dog. Its wide, expressive gray eyes seemed to peer into his soul, tugging at a memory just out of reach. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was a connection between them, though he couldn't quite understand it.
"Think of it this way, Monty," Penny implored, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. "You're about to head to Hogwarts, and Rose is already so shy. We know she loves to cling to you. If we had a dog, it might help her feel more comfortable and give her a companion while you're away! Please, Monty! Just think about it!" Her words spilled out, painting a vivid picture of laughter and adventure with a new furry friend.
Monty's gaze drifted to Rose, who was nestled against him, her little face hidden in the soft fabric of his shirt. At four years old, she had not yet uttered a single word, a fact that always left a knot of worry in Monty's stomach, unlike Willow, Jasmine, and Rosalie. He glanced back at Penny and Matt, their eager faces full of hope. Having a dog around could be the bridge Rose needed to find her voice.
Willow, Jasmine, Rosalie, and Rosebud are spirited quadruplets, each possessing unique charm while still echoing the traits of their late parents. Willow and Jasmine resemble their father, showcasing his jet-black hair that gleams under the light and his expressive hazel eyes that hold a hint of mischief. Both girls opt for stylish glasses, which add a touch of intellectual flair to their appearances. Willow prefers frames with bold angles, while Jasmine opts for a softer, rounder style that complements her gentle demeanor.
In contrast, Rosalie and Rosebud inherit the radiant features of their mother, characterized by her luscious, thick dark red hair that flows like a cascading waterfall and captivating bright green eyes that seem to twinkle with curiosity and warmth. These two girls embrace their natural vision and do not wear glasses; however, Monty often notices Rosebud's habit of holding her books unusually close to her face, her expressive squints suggesting a pair of glasses might benefit her. The subtle differences in their appearances reflect not just their genetic heritage but also the vibrant personalities that shine through each of them, making them a delightful and dynamic quartet.
"Alright," he murmured thoughtfully, making the decision amid the swirl of his siblings' excitement. "Let's see how it goes. But it's a big responsibility, and we must care for him." A tentative smile began to form, and for the first time, Monty felt a flicker of hope that perhaps this dog could help their little family in ways they hadn't even considered yet.
A soft chuckle escaped Monty's lips as he watched the twins, Matt and Penny, bounding down the path toward their home, their laughter mingling with the joyful barks of their dog, who trotted eagerly after them. It was a warm afternoon; the sun's gentle rays illuminated the lively scene. Turning towards Agatha, her two younger brothers, and Mr. Sallow, he felt a warmth in their shared company.
"Matt's and Penny's birthday is coming up on the 20th," Monty announced, a smile creeping onto his face as he thought of the celebration ahead. "Are you all planning to join us for their seventh birthday?" His voice was casual, yet it hinted at his genuine hope that their friends would be there to make the day even more special.
Agatha glanced up at Mr. Sallow, her expression momentarily distant as if she were weighing her options. The slight furrow on her brow told Monty that she was deep in thought. Mr. Sallow, with his reassuring demeanor and gentle smile, replied confidently, "Of course, Fleamont. I will also have a word with Ominis. We'll ensure you and your siblings will never feel alone again."
Monty felt a surge of hope at Mr. Sallow's words. His trust in Mr. Sallow and Mr. Gaunt was a comforting presence. They had always supported him and instilled in him the belief that his family would be safe in their hands.
He turned his attention to Baelfire, his youngest brother, who was eagerly tugging at his sleeve. "Okay, Little Fire," Monty said tenderly, bending down slightly to meet Baelfire's bright eyes. "Let's head home. I've got dinner to make, and I'm sure the rest of the crew will be waiting for us." Baelfire beamed and waved goodbye to his friends, the excitement still dancing in his eyes before Monty and Baelfire began their trek home.
Monty couldn't shake the tumult of feelings roiling inside him as they walked. Though Hogwarts beckoned like a shimmering promise of adventure and knowledge, he felt a knot of dread in his stomach. Every inch of his being wanted to protect his siblings; how could he abandon them to the whims of the world? He was only ten, yet he had taken on the weight of responsibility for his thirteen siblings ever since their mother had passed away. The promise he made to her—to always look after his family—echoed in his mind like a haunting lullaby.
But if he went to Hogwarts, what would happen to them? He fumbled about being sorted into a house, wondering what traits define him. Would he fit into Gryffindor, known for bravery? Or perhaps Ravenclaw, revered for intellect? He sighed at the uncertainty, and if he did find himself in a different house than Agatha, would their friendship survive the trials of their new lives? These swirling doubts settled in the pit of his stomach as they approached their home, the familiar sight of it both a comfort and a reminder of the choices that loomed ahead.