– June 20th, 1986 –

– North of Feldcroft –

To the north of Feldcroft, perched majestically upon a lush hill, sat a castle unlike any other – Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This legendary institution had been a beacon of magical education for centuries, where young witches and wizards nurtured their innate talents and learned to wield their powers responsibly.

Inside the castle, in a cozy office filled with shelves of ancient tomes and portraits of long-gone headmasters, sat Professor Minerva McGonagall, the esteemed deputy headmistress. Wearing her usual pointed hat and a serious expression, she meticulously reviewed the list of incoming first-year students for the upcoming school year. It was a task she relished, as it marked the beginning of a fresh chapter for both the students and the school.

As her eyes scanned the parchment, she smiled warmly at many familiar names, recalling the excited faces of new students she had welcomed in previous years. However, a sudden apprehension gripped her when she came across the name "Grendel, Chaz." For a fleeting moment, her heart raced as she thought she had read "Grindelwald," the name of one of the darkest wizards in history. But upon a second glance and a sigh of relief, she reassured herself it was merely a coincidence. Indeed, the vigilant headmaster would have thwarted any ambitions of a descendant of that notorious name from attending Hogwarts.

Her attention shifted back to the list, and her heart skipped a beat as she encountered a name that echoed through the annals of recent history – "Potter, Fleamont II." The very mention of the Potter name stirred memories long buried in sorrow. Fleamont was the name of the firstborn son of the late James and Lily Potter, who had tragically vanished four years prior under the ominous shadow of You-Know-Who's reign of terror. The wizarding world had been plunged into despair as news of their deaths spread, and the fate of their children had remained shrouded in mystery ever since.

Minerva had held onto a sliver of hope all these years, believing that Fleamont and his siblings were still alive despite the grim circumstances surrounding their disappearance. With the arrival of Fleamont Potter II set to grace the halls of Hogwarts, she felt a swell of determination to uncover the truth about the boy's whereabouts.

Resolved to share this revelation, Minerva summoned three of her fellow professors to her office: Professor Pomona Sprout, the head of Hufflepuff House, known for her nurturing spirit and vibrant greenhouse; Professor Filius Flitwick, the diminutive yet brilliant head of Ravenclaw House, who possessed a gleaming intellect; and Professor Severus Snape, the stoic and enigmatic head of Slytherin House, who commanded respect and fear in equal measure.

As they gathered around her desk, Filius frowned, perplexed. "Please tell me why we are here, but not Albus," he inquired, glancing curiously from Minerva to the others.

Instead of answering directly, Minerva slid the parchment toward them, allowing them to peruse the list of first-year students. As their eyes fell upon the name "Fleamont Potter II," their expressions transformed from confusion to shock. Gasps escaped their lips, and their gazes met, each knowing the significance of the name that had once inspired hope and heartache within the wizarding community. It was a moment that would change their perspectives on the upcoming year.

"Where have the boy and his siblings been all this time?" Pomona asked, her voice laced with a mix of worry and curiosity. "Everyone thought they had perished, along with his siblings. It's simply unimaginable."

Minerva shook her head slowly, her brow creased in thought. "I'm not certain," she replied, her tone pensive. "But I need to revisit his letter; there might be clues about where he's been staying. I had planned to check in on Mr. Potter to see how he's faring and what he's been up to lately. I can't help but feel that something significant is afoot, and I wonder if one of you would like to accompany me. We must keep this under wraps, though—I wouldn't want Albus to catch wind of our plans."

– Feldcroft –

Today marked a special occasion for Monty's siblings, Penny and Matt, as they celebrated their seventh birthday. In honor of this joyful day, Monty decided to grant his siblings a reprieve from their usual chores, a tradition he had lovingly established when they first arrived in the small, tight-knit community of Feldcroft. This tradition was his way of ensuring that his siblings could genuinely enjoy their birthdays, allowing them a moment to bask in the joy of being young.

Monty had always taken it upon himself to make these days memorable for Penny and Matt. The thought of their smiles and laughter brought him a sense of fulfillment that overshadowed any personal desire for celebration. After all, no one, not even his siblings, knew Monty's birthday. At just ten years old, he had consciously decided to set aside his own needs—his desire to celebrate—because he believed their happiness was far more significant. To him, every little detail he orchestrated for their birthdays—the cake, the decorations, the games—was a testament to his love and responsibility as their older brother. In Monty's eyes, uplifting his siblings and creating cherished memories for them was a much more pressing priority than acknowledging his own special day.

"Woof!" The sound echoed behind Monty, causing him to jump slightly in surprise. He turned around to glare at the shaggy dog that belonged to his siblings, Matt and Penny. The twins affectionately called him Snuggles, a name that fits the friendly mutt perfectly. Snuggles was the picture of unrestrained joy, with his tongue lolling out and his tail wagging fervently. Monty sighed, shaking his head at the dog's exuberance before he turned his attention back to the cake he was decorating.

Just as Monty was about to spread a thick layer of frosting on the cake, he felt a gentle nudge against his thigh. Looking down, he saw Snuggles sitting expectantly on the ground, his expressive gray eyes fixed on Monty with an almost pleading look. There was something oddly familiar about the dog, a fleeting recognition that Monty couldn't grasp.

Curiosity piqued, Monty knelt down to get a better look at Snuggles. The shaggy fur felt soft beneath his fingers, warm and inviting, and Monty thought for a moment about how much he enjoyed being around this cheerful creature. "You know," he murmured softly, "I feel like I've seen you before, Snuggles. But where could it have been?"

Snuggles whimpered in response, eagerly licking Monty's hand as if trying to coax out the memories that eluded him. Monty felt a pang of longing to remember their past encounter, but a nagging voice suggested he should just let it go, pressing him to focus on the present. It was a strange sensation between the moment's warmth and the shadow of forgotten familiarity.

"Fleamont?"

Monty rose from his seat, peering across the dimly lit room to catch a glimpse of Mr. Sallow's friend, Mr. Ominis Gaunt. The elderly man, well into his eleventh decade at 111 years old, bore the weight of years etched into the deep lines of his face. Though blind, he moved with remarkable grace, his wand guiding him like a sturdy staff, sweeping gently through the air as if it were an extension of himself.

Monty admired Mr. Gaunt's resilience; he had three great-grandchildren at home whom he clearly adored. The twin boys, Emmett Dale and Ominis Salazar II, both five years old, were bundles of energy, while their younger sister, four-year-old Wynter Brielle, was blind just like her great-grandfather.

"I heard from Sebastian that Matthew and Penelope discovered a… dog in the forest," Mr. Gaunt said, his voice steady yet tinged with concern. "Is it safe? You can't imagine how long that mutt could have roamed out there."

Snuggles, the scruffy little dog Monty had grown fond of, growled low in his throat at Mr. Gaunt's voice, sensing the tension in the air. Monty quickly reached down and gently tapped Snuggles on the nose, reassuring him with a soft murmur. The dog's growl ceased as he looked up at Monty, his demeanor shifting to curiosity instead of aggression.

"I understand, Mr. Gaunt," Monty replied earnestly, his voice steady despite the weight of the discussion. "I tried talking to Matt and Penny about it, but they were adamant about keeping him. They think he needs a home."

Mr. Gaunt sighed, a mixture of empathy and exasperation filling his tone. "I do understand that, Fleamont. However, your siblings are only seven, and you're just ten. From what Sebastian told me, you've cared for them since you were six. If I had known that, I wouldn't have allowed you to be alone in the house, especially with such young ones."

Monty felt a wave of emotion wash over him. Mr. Gaunt's words struck a chord, reminding him of the responsibilities he had shouldered so early in life, and he couldn't help but wonder if he was doing enough for his siblings.

Monty stood quietly, his expression a mix of apprehension and sorrow. "Yeah, I have been raising my siblings since I was six," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. A weight hung heavy in his heart as he glanced at Mr. Gaunt, uncertainty swirling within him. "Mr. Sallow said that I should go to Hogwarts, but… I'm afraid to leave my siblings behind."

With a reassuring nod, Mr. Gaunt leaned forward, his gaze steady and encouraging. "Sebastian is right, Fleamont. You must go to Hogwarts and experience the joys of being a child. Your siblings will be safe with us. Sebastian and I have always supported you; that won't change now. We believe that both Agatha and you will thrive at Hogwarts. It's a magical place, one full of wonders and friendships."

Ominis, stood in the doorway, interrupted gently, his voice imbued with sincerity. "As you know, I'm blind. I was born into a world without sight, and though I can't see it, I've heard so much about Hogwarts. I wish I could understand what the school looks like—its towering spires, the enchanted ceiling, perhaps even the bustling Great Hall during a feast. I don't want you to miss this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If you don't go… you might never see Hogwarts or experience its magic. Please, don't live with the regret of not attending." His words struck a chord, echoing the longing for adventure and discovery that lay just beyond Monty's fears.

Monty nodded thoughtfully, his brow furrowing slightly as he addressed Mr. Gaunt. "Okay, Mr. Gaunt. I trust both Mr. Sallow and you with my siblings. I will do my best to enjoy my time at Hogwarts," he replied, his voice steady but laced with a hint of concern.

"Good," Mr. Gaunt responded warmly. "Now, let's get that cake out to Penelope and Matthew. They've been looking forward to it all day."

Monty agreed, feeling a flicker of excitement as the sweet smell of the cake wafted through the air. He and Mr. Gaunt carefully carried the large cake outside while Snuggles, Monty's loyal dog, trotted closely behind them, his tail wagging enthusiastically.

As they emerged into the daylight of Feldcroft, Monty's attention was suddenly drawn to a pair of unfamiliar adults standing a few yards away, deep in conversation with Mr. Sallow. Protectiveness surged within him at the sight of his siblings nearby, tucked securely under Mr. Sallow's watchful gaze. With a sense of urgency, Monty set the cake down on the table, its frosting glimmering in the sun, and sprinted toward the strangers.

Unbeknownst to Monty, Snuggles had hesitated, his posture shifting as he sensed something off about the newcomers. The dog remained at a distance, low whimpers escaping him as he watched the unfolding scene, his ears perked and alert.

"Who in Merlin's beard are you?" Monty demanded, seriousness flooding his tone as he approached. Fear and protectiveness ignited in him, especially as he saw his younger sister Rose dart toward him, her small face a picture of concern.

The two adults turned to face Monty, shock evident in their expressions, their eyes wide with disbelief.

"Fleamont? Is that really you? Fleamont Potter?" one of the adults exclaimed, their voice filled with excitement and astonishment.

"Yes," Monty replied, maintaining his serious demeanor, although a hint of confusion tugged at him. He instinctively scooped up Rose, holding her close as he fixed his gaze on the adults. "Who's asking?"

"Merlin's beard!" the other adult's face broke into a broad smile, the tension dissipating as relief washed over them. "You're alive! We thought… well, it's incredible to see you here!"