This is a triplet!fem!Harry story. I've been asked a lot on different accounts why even bother retelling the series with just these random differences - different genders, extra characters, different houses, etc. Here is my answer: FOR FUN. That's what fanfiction is about, all right?

Also, I won't have any Mary-Sue talk here. I'm a grown-up actual author, and I know hwo to write (though I don't find anything wrong with MS's, though they can be annoying). Before you call any of my characters a Mary Sue, first pretend they are male - the same character, same actions, but male. Then tell me if you think that's a 'Gary Stu'. Okay?

Anyway, this will quote the book a good deal, but the plot will be different, and not just because of the characters. Two of the girls' friends Aaric MacDonald and Euterpe Noble, were taken from my first ever fanfiction, The Twins Who Lived and the Sorcerer's Stone, which you can find if you search on here.

I have about four chapters done already, plus it's Christmas time, so updates should be fairly regular for awhile. Please let me know what you think, or follow or favourite so that I know there's interest.

Chapter One: The Girls Who Lived

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley who lived at number four Privet drive were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last sort of people who you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or unusual, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.

But then on the night of October thirty-first, something happened that shattered their picture-perfect lives.

Vernon Dursley had noticed strange things all day: funny looking people in cloaks, fireworks, owls flying hither-pitter, and a very small, squeaky man had even hugged him!

He tried to brush it all off as just haphazard, but then on his way to his car at the end of the day, he overheard a whispered conversation that greatly worried him between several cloaked people.

"…Yes, the Potter's…"

"That's what I heard…their daughters, the three, the triplets…"

"Lily, Daisy, and Ivy, yes, that's what Dedalus told me…"

Vernon Dursley's large, shiny forehead wrinkled. Potter was the last name of Petunia's dratted sister and her husband. And – unless he was mistaken – Lily, Daisy, and Ivy were the names of their three daughters, the triplets. Could that mean that whatever was going on was related to…their kind?

He shuddered, then shook himself, thinking that he was being silly. He was sure that the names weren't the same…and Potter wasn't a very uncommon surname…perhaps Linda, Diane, and Irene were the girls' names…

Yes, that would be it. He straightened up, feeling better, and enjoyed his normal drive home.

But things only got worse. After dinner that night there was a very unusual news alerts about owls and fireworks, and Vernon hesitantly approached the subject with his wife.

"Er-Petunia?" she nodded to show was listening. "What were the names of the…the Potter girls? Linda, Diane, and Irene, weren't they?"

Petunia stiffened as she always did when the subject of her sister came up. Her lips tight, she answered, "Lily, Daisy, and Ivy. Nasty common names, you ask me."

"Quite." Agreed Vernon, but privately he was worried. What were the possibilities of triplets with the same names as their relatives linked to strange events? He tried not to think about it…

After all, he thought that night, finally calming himself a bit, there was no way it could affect them, whatever it was.

"I should have known you would be here, Professor McGonagall." Said an old man to a tabby cat just outside the Dursley home right as Mr. Dursley fell into an uneasy sleep.

The man had long, silvery hair and a beard equally as long, and was dressed in dark blue robes and buckled boots. He was on a street where everything from his name – which was Albus Dumbledore – to his boots were unwelcome, but the street was dark, thanks to a nifty device in his pocket.

He sat down on the brick wall outside number 4, next to a tabby cat that had been there the whole day.

Slowly the cat changed until it was a person, and the stern-faced woman wore square spectacles that were quite similar to the markings that had been on the cat's face.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked crossly.

Albus Dumbledore's eyes glittered behind his half-moon spectacles. "My dear Professor, never in my life have I seen a cat sit that stiffly."

As the two professors sat, they discussed the recent goings-on – the Potters had been killed, Lord Voldemort had been defeated when trying to murder one of the baby girls, and already Lily, Daisy, and Ivy were famous. Professor Dumbledore informed a sceptical Professor McGonagall that Rubeus Hagrid was bringing the girls to live at their relatives' home, the very same place where they now sat, and moments after he said so, a giant motorbike landed on the street with a crash. Both professors stood up, looking totally unalarmed, and walked over to great the man riding the bike.

If the bike was huge, it was nothing compared to the one who rode it. Standing twice as tall as a normal man, and several times as wide, he kicked down the stand and stepped off.

"Professor Dumbledore sir, Professor McGonagall," said the man gruffly. He had wild black hair and a bear to match, but his black eyes were kind and gentle as he reached into his enormous jacket and pulled out first one bundle, then two, then three. They all fit easily in hands the size of trash-can lids, and he held them carefully for a moment before passing them to Dumbledore. "Wonderful babes, so well behaved – they fell asleep just as we was flyin' over Bristol."

Dumbledore carried the bundles over to the doorstep of number four.

"Do you really think it wise, Albus?" asked Professor McGonagall nervously. "I've watched these Muggles all day, and they're the worst sort of Muggles imaginable! I saw the boy kicking his mother as they walked down the street, screaming for sweets! These girls will be famous! There won't be a child in our world who doesn't know their names!"

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, setting down the three babies. "They're better off growing up away from all that." He tucked a letter into the blanket of one of the triplets – Lily, to be exact.

The triplets couldn't know what would happen the next day – being awoken by their Aunt's scream as she went to put out the milk – or in the months to follow – being poked and pinched by Dudley.

They never guessed what would happen in the summer of their eleventh birthday…