Okay so, this is the first Harry Potter fanfict i've published EVER.
Background stuff: This takes place about thirty years after the Second war ( i don't specify dates, and nothing has changed in the way of cars, robots, etc ;)
This is not about Harry, Ron or Hermione. These are my original characters, going to Hogwarts. There will be people from the past (Profersors Longbottom, McGonagall, Flitwick, Hagrid, etc.), and children of the heroes (For example, In the second chapter i will introduce Teddy and Victoire's daughter (whom i made up)
I hope you guys like it! Please don't be mean though...i want constructive critisism :)
The Tuesday's were quiet unhappy to welcome triplets into the world, and it got even worse when they saw the triplets.
One had rainbow hair, one had dirty blond and pink hair, the last had black and purple hair.
The Tuesday triplets, whom were named Devereaux, Zowii, and Violette, were never quiet…normal. Their hair remained at its original colors, no matter what dye they used, and grew – without any help – into dreadlocks.
Wanda Tuesday would brush and brush and brush, but in the morning the dreadlocks would be back.
Dreading the strange glances and questions from the neighbors if they found out that her daughters' hair seemed to have a mind of its own, she and her husband Rutherford left their hair as it was, saying that they encouraged self-expression and uniqueness. (Which they didn't. They thought that the only thing that should be unique or strange about a child was his or her name)
They didn't really have a reason to complain. The girls were kind, funny, creative, and absolutely brilliant. They were perfectly polite to their teachers – sometimes even becoming friends with them and staying inside during recess to talk with them instead of joining their classmates. They were nice to the students in general, though they always stood up against bullies, but yet they stood out, and not just because of their hair.
There was just something different about them. As babies and toddlers they rarely cried. They were never spoiled kids. They did their chores without complaint, laughing and talking to one another in Latin – which they had taken since kindergarten and were fluent in – and they were their own best friends.
Yet strange things happened around them. Bullies were suddenly propelled across the room when they got angry. Sometimes the writing utensils of teachers who hated them would end up point-up in their seats.
Yes, there was something to the Tuesday triplets, but nothing more strange had ever happened at the small house in Bristol, than the day of August first, when three letters arrived…
Devereaux woke up before Zowii and Violette, and it was a very gray day.
She sat up, stretching, and stared out the window.
The gray morning light illuminated the streets of Charlotte Road, casting a glum look over things, in spite of it being summer vacation.
The eleven-year-old when stood up and went to the foot of her bed, when it connected to her youngest – by eleven minutes – sister's bed.
She patted her shoulder gently, "Wake up, Teabags," she said, using her sisters nickname.
The black-and-purple haired head shook, and Violette groaned feebly.
Devereaux went to Zowii's bed, "C'mon, you guys!" she said, shaking her shoulder, "Mum and dad are gone today, remember? We have the house to ourselves!"
This woke them up.
Zowii sat, pushing back her locks, and said in a slightly hoarse voice, "Oh yeah, the picnic! I forgot!" she stood, and started to dress.
Violette groaned, but followed suit.
Once they were all dressed in their usual dark gray jeans and vintage t-shirts, they went downstairs to make breakfast.
Devereaux did the eggs, while Violette made bacon, and Zowii made rolls and toast.
It was their normal morning routine, and soon they were sitting at the table, munching contentedly, while they watched the news.
This was another strange thing about them, as most eleven-year-olds didn't care for the news at all – and they had just turned eleven, mind you – but they wanted to be informed.
That's when it happened.
The mail arrived.
"I'll get it!" announced Zowii, and she sped off, coming back in seconds with three thick yellow envelopes, and two white ones that looked like bills.
"Hey…" said Zowii slowly, "These are for us!" she passed out the letters to each of them.
They were made from old-fashioned parchment, and written in green ink on the front of the envelope were the words:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Minerva McGonagall
(Order of Merlin, Second Class, Original member of The Order of the Phoenix, Member of the National Confederation of Wizards)
Devereaux exchanged looks of surprise with her sister.
"What's Hogwarts?" Violette wondered.
"It sounds like a school," Devereaux replied, "Maybe mum and dad entered us in a scholarship of some kind?"
"Let's find out!" Zowii said after a pause. "Read yours Devereaux, I bet they're the same anyway.
Devereaux ripped open the red wax seal on the back and read aloud.
"Dear Ms. Tuesday,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than August 5.
Yours sincerely,
Dominic Bourdereaux
Deputy Headmaster.
(P.s, As your parents are muggles – that is to say, not wizards – we will send someone to explain to them at 4:00pm on the first of August.)"
As she finished, there was silence. Then:
"Witchcraft?" said Zowii.
"Muggles?" gasped Violette.
"Wizards?" demanded Devereaux, "What in goodness' name is going on?"
"Keep reading!" said Zowii, gesturing towards the other letter. Devereaux nodded, picking it up.
"Uniform," She read, "First-year students will require: 1. Three sets of plain black robes (to be modified after sorting) 2. A weeks worth of the following: A, White button up shirt. B. Black tie (will also be modified after sorting). C, Gray vest, some short sleeved, some long (for winter) (Modified after sorting). D, Black pants (for boys). E, Dark gray skirt (for girls). F, Winter pants (for girls and boys). G, Tights or knee-high for girls (in black, gray, or white), Regular socks for boys. H, Any shoes are allowed, with the exception of open-toe or heel shoes and shoes with more than two inch heals for girls. 3. Gray knit hat, black scarf, and black and gray knit gloves (for winter, modified after sorting. 4. Dragon hide gloves. 5. Winter robes. The above can be found at Madam Malkin's, Classy Wiz, Nimbus Imports, and by owl order."
Despite all the amazing and fantastical things she had read so far, Devereaux knew that she and her sisters had an unspoken agreement not to discuss it until the end, so she went on.
"Course books," she read, "All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk, A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot (Revised by Hermione Weasley), Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling, A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore, Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander, and The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble.
"Other equipment:1 wand, 1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2), 1 set glass or crystal phials, 1 telescope, 1 set brass scales, A quill(s) and ink. Students may also bring a pet (see complete list of new-approved pets at the Fantastical Creatures store in Diagon Alley.)"
As she finished, it was silent.
Then Violette whispered what they were all thinking, "Do you think it's real?"
The triplets had always had a great internal lie detector; they could always tell when someone was lying to them. None of them felt lied too.
Slowly, grins slid across their faces, and soon they were all re-reading their letters, talking excitedly, and discussing.
"Dragon hide gloves?" Zowii repeated, "Do you think they're made from real dragons?"
"That would be awesome!"
"How big do you think-?" but Devereaux's question was interrupted by the clinking of key and the opening of a door.
Six eyes grew as big as plates.
"We're home girls!" Called Wanda, walking through the living room, before spotting them in the kitchen.
"So what did you three do today?" asked Rutherford, smiling kindly.
The girls looked at the clock at the same time. It was ten till four.
"What is it?" demanded Wanda suspiciously, "Did something break? What are those letters?"
Before they could stop her, she had grabbed Violette's letter and was reading it.
Her eyes grew big, and her mouth fell open. Their father, reading over her shoulder said, "Is this a joke? Where did you get these?"
"Mail." Said Zowii weakly.
"Four…" their mum said weakly, "Well…that's-"
She was interrupted by the charms of the clock.
"Now." Devereaux finished.
There was a knock on the door.
Taking one look at each other, and one at their petrified parents, they ran to open it.
There stood a tan man of around fifty. He had long brown hair and a beard, and gray eyes, and wore a long dark green cloak. He smiled at the girls, before addressing their parents, who had managed to maneuver themselves out of the kitchen.
"Ah, hello, Mr. and Mrs. Tuesday!" he said warmly, shaking their hands, "May I come in?"
They nodded mutely, and stepped aside.
He led the way into their living room, with Devereaux, Zowii, Violette, and their parents behind him.
He sat himself in the armchair to the right of the empty fireplace, and the girls took the loveseat across from him, while their parents took the couch.
He sat there, smiling, for awhile, before starting slightly and saying, "I'm sorry, I'm being terribly rude. I'm Dominic Bourdereaux."
"The deputy headmaster," mumbled Rutherford.
Bourdereaux grinned. "I take it you've read the letter, then?"
The five of them nodded.
"It's just…not possible!" cried Wanda, "Magic doesn't exist!"
At this, Bourdereaux reached into his robe, pulled out a stick, and pointed it at the fire, saying, "Incendia!" Immediately, flames shot out of the stick – which must be a wand, the girls thought – and there was a roaming fire in the fireplace.
"What doesn't exist?" Bourdereaux asked casually.
Wanda looked as if she might faint.
"But…but how do you know that their…witches?" asked Rutherford, shakily.
Bourdereaux smiled gently, "We always know when witches and wizards are born, and these three will be very skilled." He turned to the triplets, "Have you ever made strange things happen before? Maybe when you were angry?"
They grinned and he took this as a yes.
About an hour later, everyone seemed to be caught up. Their parents, thankfully, had agreed to let them go, deciding that they were definitely mature enough and in need of a challenge.
"I'll send someone to pick you up tomorrow, so you can get your school things," he said, "I think you'll really like her."
He winked and left.
And thus, the triplets were standing there alone, grinning, at the thought of what would soon happen.
What do you think?
