THIS STORY HAS BEEN CHANGED A BIT! CHIARI IS NOW NAMED BRIELLE AND SEFFIE IS NOW CHARLEY! I felt like Persephone and Chiara were a little too unusual, that they didn't fit in with the others. Brielle is an Hebrew name, but her parents think it's Irish. What can i say, they're idiots. Charley is obviously short for Charlotte and...well that's about it. No other changes, just spelling and such. A new chapter will be up in just a few hours!
Okay, we all know how much i like "multiple Harry" stories, so here it is. I was thinking to myself "I don't need another story. I don't need another story..." but i couldn't stop it. So here it is: What if Harry was a sextuplet? (That means six babies born at once, if you didn't know)
Please review. Flames are welcome (especially if you're brave enough to not be anonymous) and will be used to up the review count and roast Umbridge :D
I don't own HP, but i wish i did. Duh.
Chapter 1: The Potters receive mail.
When James and Lily Potter were killed on the night of October 31, they left behind sextuplets: Harry, Liam, Wesley, Brielle, Wendy, and Charlotte. The un-identical children were placed on the front step of their relatives, the Dursleys, home in Surrey. Dumbledore counted on blood ties and loyalty to convince Petunia Dursley to keep her nieces and nephews, but he was wrong. Petunia convinced her husband that she owed it to her sister to at least care for one, and little Harry moved in with the Dursleys, while the other five were separated across four counties.
Little did Albus Dumbledore know, but these children would grow up in some of the worst environments, and would concur them all and become great, no matter what anyone said…
Just so you are aware, this is the birth order:
Harry was born first, then Wesley, Wendy, Bri, Charley, and Liam last. Liam was born just before the clock stuck midnight on July 31.
On the first of June, each of the Potter sextuplets received their Hogwarts letters at around the same time. Their stories are split into parts, and written below, as they occurred almost simultaneously. For example, Harry woke the earliest, and got his letter first, followed by Liam, Wesley, et cetera. There is about half an hour difference between them, just for reference.
::HaRrY::
Harry Sirius Potter was currently sleeping in his cupboard. You see, though the Dursleys had agreed to care for him, they didn't much (or at all) like their nephew. Harry had short, slightly messy black hair and bright green eyes, but his most distinguishing mark was a lightning-bolt shaped scar over his right eyebrow. His Aunt and Uncle told him he got it in the car accident that killed his parents.
Harry would be turning eleven in just a few weeks, along with the five siblings he had no idea he had. He had never in his life had a birthday party or a real present, and had no reason to expect any this year. He just prayed he would be able to do his chores and crawl back into his closet for the rest of the day.
A loud banging followed by a "Get up, boy!" woke poor Harry that morning. He quickly crawled out of the cupboard – not bothering to change, as he was in his best and only clothes already – and quickly combed his fingers through his dark hair.
As he left his cupboard, Harry silently prayed that his Uncle would already be at work, but, unfortunately, Uncle Vernon and his large moustache were both present in the kitchen.
He cooked the breakfast flawlessly, and was quietly enjoying a piece of toast when his Aunt barked, "Get the mail, boy!"
"Yes, Aunt Petunia." He said dutifully, and quickly went to the hall to scoop up the mail that had fallen on the floor. There was a postcard from Vernon's sister, Marge, a bill, and – Harry gasped aloud – A letter addressed to him:
Mr. H Potter.
The cupboard under the stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey.
Gaping at it, he walked into the kitchen, feeling like he was in a trance. Harry handed the letters to Uncle Vernon, then sat down and began to open his.
"Dad, Harry's got a letter!"Dudleycried suddenly, just as Harry was lifting the back flap. Uncle Vernon promptly snatched it out of his hand.
"Hey, give that back! It's mine!" yelled Harry, jumping to try and reach the parchment.
"Yours? Who would be writing to you?" sneered Uncle Vernon, flipping the envelope over. Immediately, his large face drained of colour, and he turned urgently to Aunt Petunia. "It's them."
In the small span of only six seconds, Dudley and Harry found themselves thrown out of the kitchen. Uncle Vernon snarled at Harry to get lost, as usual, and slammed the door behind them. Harry knew better than to stick around after an order like that, and walked sadly out the front door.
He had wanted nothing more in his life than to read that letter. Who would write to him anyway?
Trying to distract himself from the loss of his letter, Harry attempted to recall the dream he had been having before his Aunt woke him up. He remembered a flash of green light, and screaming…
"Harry!" cried a voice from behind him.
Harry almost smiled as he turned to see his best friend, Dean Thomas. Standing half a head over Harry, Dean was a black boy with short hair and slightly large ears. He was the only boy at Harry's primary school that wasn't scared of Dudley and his gang. Regardless of what they said about Harry or threatened him with, Dean still stuck by his friend. He was the only person Harry could trust, and the only person who liked him – besides Dean's mother, Emily.
"Hey, Dean." Harry said, trying not to sound upset. Of course, Dean wasn't fooled.
"What did they do this time?" he asked immediately, turning to walk in stride with Harry.
"I got a letter," Harry said. "But Uncle Vernon saw me opening it and took it."
"I got one too!" said Dean, holding out a similar envelope. "I haven't opened it though…Who was yours from?" he asked.
"I don't know," answered Harry. "It just had this crest on the back, and it said 'Hogwarts'. Weird, right?"
"Mine says Hogwarts, too." Said Dean, shrugging. "Let's go to my house: they probably say the same thing, and we can find out who it's from."
::LiAm::
Liam John Potter was hungrily eating a Mars Bar under his blanket, savouring the chocolate and nuts like a starving man. The London Orphanage was rather well funded, but getting a piece of candy was a reward that was few and far between. He had gotten up early to eat it in peace, and so his roommates wouldn't try to steal it.
Liam was a thin, small boy with bright red hair and dark, reddish-brown eyes. He, like Harry, had a distinguishing mark: the outline of a sun over his left eyebrow. He, his best friend Luna Lovegood, and Miriam Marvin – an orphanage worker he was particularly fond of – assumed that it was just a really cool birthmark.
Finishing the chocolate, Liam quickly and quietly dressed, trying hard not to wake the other three boys. He pulled on a tan shirt, khaki shorts, striped red and black tights, and dark brown boots, grabbed his backpack, and left the room. He headed down the stairs and – after leaving a quick note for Miriam – opened the orphanage door and stepped out into the cool, pre-dawnLondonair.
"What the –" Liam said as he stepped on…something in the doorway. It was the mail. He picked up the stacks, turning back to place them on the table, when he noticed that the top letter was addressed – to him.
Mr. L. Potter
The top left bunk
Room 37
The London Orphanage
London.
On the back was a crest with a lion, a badger, a snake, and a bird on it. Thinking quickly, Liam put down the rest of the mail, pocketed his letter excitedly, and ran out the door.
"What are you all aflutter about?" asked Luna in her dreamy voice when Liam finally made it, panting, to the park. Luna lived nearby with her father while he worked on a research project for…someone. She had very long blond hair and silvery blue eyes and was quiet strange, but Liam loved her.
"I got a letter!" the red-head announced, holding it up proudly.
"Who from?" asked Luna curiously as Liam sat down on the swing next to her.
"It doesn't say, but this crest here says 'Hogwarts'…" he showed her, and her large eyes grew even wider. "What?" he demanded.
In answer, she stood, grabbed his hand, and pulled Liam along behind her as she walked quickly from the park.
"We need to talk to my father."
::WeSlEy::
Wesley Peter Witte shivered in his sleep, turning over and pulling the threadbare blanket closer to him. He cracked open on eye, seeing the light coming through the window, but quickly closed it, hoping for more sleep.
Wesley had been left on the doorstep of the home of a very poor woman named Verona a very kind person and immediately accepted the baby, even though she had no money herself. She loved Wesley, however, and was a very wonderful mother, even if she couldn't buy him very much.
Finally, he gave up on going back to sleep and got out of bed. He combed through his long, curly, light brown hair and put his oval-shaped glasses on over his bright green eyes – the eyes he didn't know he shared with one of his brothers and one of his sisters. On his forehead, over his right eye of course, was the imprint of a cloud.
Wesley quietly opened his door and went to the kitchen to start their breakfast. Just as he set the eggs and toast on the table, the letter flap banged and several letters appeared on the mat. Wesley scooped them up, glancing at the one on top.
Mr. W. Potter
The south bedroom
22 Pauvre
Ottery St. Catchpole
Devon
Potter? He wondered. He stared at it for a few minutes, but then decided it must have been addressed wrong, though he didn't even know of a 'Potter' on their street, and the rest of the address was right…
Just as he was about to go wake his mother, a knock came from the door.
"Hello, Ron!" Wesley greeted his red-haired friend. Ron and his large family lived on the outskirts of the town, and he and Wesley were very close friends.
Ron had a strange look on his face as he said, "Hi, Wes." He cleared his throat, shifting his large feet awkwardly. "Um, haven't gotten any mail today, have you?"
::BrIeLlE::
Brielle Petunia Potter Waverly was sleeping in a very large, silk covered bed in the Waverly mansion. Next to her was her best friend, Su Li, who was sleeping over at her house that night.
Her parents, Jason and Jasmine Waverly, were gone for the weekend, leaving Brielle with her older sister, Aisling.
Jason and Jasmine were the lead singers in their band, Waverly. They had had Aisling ten years before Brielle, and were told after that they couldn't have anymore kids. Of course, they were unable to have kids, but Brielle didn't know that. They had been thrilled when they had adopted her, as her name already matched their pattern of Irish names with their other daughter. To them, children were accessories, like jewellery or handbags. They had the two just for the fun of it, and rarely visited them, as they were always away at concerts, or even at some of their other homes.
Brielle (or, as she preferred to be called, Bri) had bright, bright red hair that was wavy and fell about to her chest, and very bright green eyes, just like Wesley and Harry. Over her right eyebrow was a crescent moon shape 'birthmark'. In true rock star form, her parents had gotten her ears pieced when she was a baby, then again when she was seven, and again one her tenth birthday (Only on her ear lobes of course).
Also, since I know you're wondering, Brielle is pronounced Br-eye-elle. At least in this story.
Slowly, the almost-eleven-year-old opened her eyes and sat up, stretching, and nudged Li, as her friend preferred to be called.
"Wake up, Li!" she said, watching the other try to ignore her.
Li was an Asian girl, and her dad was the drummer in Waverly. She had long, perfectly straight jet black hair, very pale skin, and beautiful black eyes.
Li groaned, rolling over and ignoring Bri.
"Fine, be that way, but I'm making pancakes…" the red-haired girl let her voice trail off, and Li immediately sat up.
"Pancakes? Fine." She grumbled, rubbing her eyes. Li was a sucker for pancakes – she loved them.
Both girls dressed before going downstairs. Aisling was drinking a cup of coffee at the table, and looked up when she saw them.
"Oh, hey, Brielle, Li. This came in the mail for you, Elle." she said, holding out a thick envelope.
"Don't call me Elle," snapped Bri, grabbing the letter.
"Whatever. I'll be back after lunch, I'm going to town." Her sister said, before leaving the room. Bri glanced at the address on the letter.
Miss C. Potter
The purple bedroom
3 Agave road
Dawlish
Devon
She flipped the letter over, and saw four animals grouped around in a crest formation, and the word 'Hogwarts' over it.
"Look at this, Li," Bri said, showing her. "I wonder what 'Hogwarts' is…maybe a company? Or a school? And why does it say Potter, not Waverly?"
Li frowned, looking at the yellowish envelope. "I think I've heard my mā ma saying something about that. Let's go ask her."
Bri nodded, grabbing some toast. "Okay."
::WeNdY::
Wendy Lilith Price woke early, and rose quickly out of her bed to start cleaning her already immaculate room. She straightened the hanging clothes, dusted the shinning wood furniture, and made sure the books were alphabetized. It was her daily routine, after all.
Wendy was quite a beautiful girl, just like her sisters and her mother had been. She had very long, curly, black hair and, of course, reddish-brown eyes. Wendy was very pale, and her heart-shaped face was marred slightly by the strange mark on her forehead: it appeared to be a droplet of water.
Wendy lived with her dad, William Price, in a slightly large home in Cambridgeshire. William was a lawyer, and when he found Wendy on his doorstep nine or so years ago, he reluctantly adopted her, hired Elizabeth Jameson as a nanny, and rarely visited either of them, quiet like Brielle's parents. He preferred to stay in one of his other two homes.
William also had a…anger issue. He disliked Wendy; one could almost go far enough to say he hated her. If he, on a visit home, found anything in the house out of place…Well, use your imagination. Wendy was terrified of him, let's leave it at that. That's why the ten-year-old was frantically cleaning at the moment.
"What are you doing, child?" asked a voice from the door, and Wendy jumped. A stern-looking older woman stood in the doorway, and the girl relaxed.
"Sorry, Lizzie. Just being paranoid." Wendy admitted, flopping down on the bed.
"Don't worry," said Lizzie, sitting down beside her. She handed her a letter. "This came for you. For some reason, they used you original last name…"
"Why?" asked Wendy, reading the address.
Miss W. Potter
The flowered bedroom
34 Thompson's Lane
Melbourne
Cambridgeshire
"I don't know, maybe it will say inside." Suggested Lizzie. She stood. "I'll go start breakfast."
Before she made it to the door, a knock sounded from below them.
Wendy jumped up.
"That must be Neville!" she cried excitedly, starting down the stairs. "He said he'd come over today!"
She threw open the panelled red door to the sight of her best friend, dressed in his usual plaid shirt, on her doorstep.
"Hey,Nev!" she said, grinning.
"Hi, Wendy," he greeted, stepping inside. Neville Longbottom had wispy brown hair, a round face, and wore black-rimmed glasses. He loved to mess around with plants, but was terribly clumsy and shy. Thankfully, he had Wendy to help him out of his shell.
"Hello, Neville." Lizzie said from the stairs.
"Hi, Lizzie." He replied as he and Wendy followed her into the kitchen.
They sat down, and Wendy returned her attention to her letter, flipping it over.
"Hogwarts?" she asked the room in general. "What's that, I wonder?"
"I'm not sure…" said Lizzie, glancing at the seal as she grabbed some eggs. "That looks like a coat of arms, though. Maybe a school?"
"What do you think,Nev–?" started Wendy, but she paused at the look of shock on her best friend's face. "What is it?"
"I think…I think you two should come with me to my house." He finally stammered out. "My gran can explain the letter to you."
::ChArLeY::
Charlotte Alice Potter Demery lived in Buckinghamshire with her mother and father, Georgia and Alfie Demery. They had adopted her when Charley – as she preferred to be called – was left on Alfie's sister's doorstep. Charley had very long, curly, brown hair that was streaked naturally with blond, light brown, and dark brown. Her eyes, of course, were reddish-brown, and the outline of a star stood out on her forehead.
Her parents were kind of good people, but they loved money more than their daughter. From the day they got her, Charley was sent to modelling agency after modelling agency, doing photo shoots, commercials, and adds. They had even gotten her contacts when the doctor told them she needed glasses – they didn't want 'those nerdy things' marring her photo shoots. Charley hated all of it, but she put up with in the hopes of keeping her parents happy.
Charley rolled over in bed, groaning from the lack of sleep, but knowing she had to get up soon. Her parents were at a conference, but she was supposed to go over to her friend Hermione Granger's house for the day.
Hermione's parents were dentists, and they were out of town as well, at a dentist meeting of some kind. The Drs Granger and Mr. and Mrs. Demery didn't have a problem leaving Charley – who was almost eleven – and Hermione – who would be twelve in September – alone together for the next few days, as they were both very responsible and smart. Well, Hermione was responsible. Charley tended to be a little…crazy, so to speak, sometimes, but they both shared a passion for school and learning, though Hermione was slightly over-the-top (obsessive) about it.
Charley had been at a modelling audition last night until around midnight, and had not gotten nearly enough rest, even though it was almost ten thirty. The drive fromLondonto Buckinghamshire was long, after all.
Finally the girl stood up, stretching, and got dressed in her uncomfortable designer clothes – trying as well not to look at the terribly pink room around her – before going to the kitchen and making herself a bowl of cereal.
Then came a knock at the door.
"That can't be Hermione already, can it?" Charley wondered aloud, walking to the door and checking through the peep hole. It was the postman.
"Hello," she said, opening the door.
"Oh, hello ma'am," he answered, smiling. "I have your post here – sorry it was so late." He handed her a stack of letters.
"Thank you," Charley said politely, not really surprised. The post was frequently late, so Charley was used to it. She and Hermione had a suspicion that Mr. Postman had something going on with Mrs. Albright down the road, and – sure enough – as the man turned to walk back down the path, Charley saw a red lipstick stain on his white-collared shirt.
Charley shut the door, chuckling, and, out of curiosity, she glanced at the letters.
Several looked like bills, one was a postcard from her Great-Aunt Josephine, and two were brightly-coloured, modelling advertisements. She ignored those, as always, and moved to put them in the rubbish bin when she noticed a seventh letter.
Miss C. Potter
The pink bedroom
95 Sloe Lane
Cublington
Buckinghamshire
"Potter?" she wondered aloud at the use of her second middle name. Charley knew she was adopted, and that her original surname was Potter, but who would use it instead of Demery?
Another knock at the door. Highly confused, Charley set down the other letters and opened it to find a dishevelled Hermione standing on the step. She was holding a piece of paper and a thick envelope in her hand. Her wavy, slightly frizzy, brown hair danced about messily and there was a wild look in her eyes.
"Oh, so you got one too!" she exclaimed, seeing the letter in the other girl's hand.
"Yeah, I got a letter…weird that we got the same one, huh?" Charley said, confused at Hermione's strange behaviour.
"That's weird?" said Hermione incredulously. "Did you read it?"