'Harry' Potter and

The Twisted Skein

By TheCentauress

Disclaimer: Don't own H.P. or the rights on it. Wish I did. Totally broke, so suing me is a lost cause…

Harry Potter was a young man who had spent his entire young life living at Number 4 Privet Drive, with an uncle, aunt and cousin that he was sure had the wish that he had never existed. He was sure of this theory because, if it weren't true, then they were nothing more than sadists.

And from the love they had shown each other, he was pretty certain that they weren't. Sadists, that is. He'd bet a bag of Galleons that they wished he would vanish, though.

Nearly five years ago, they received a small part of their wish. A letter, delivered by an owl, sent him to a boarding school that allowed each party to be away from the other. Minimal contact, eventually, loosened the excessive hate between them into mere despite.

But now, Harry figured, he might just give them their wish. His godfather, Sirius Black, had died and he knew that, more than anything, he was going to join him soon.

It just hurt less than trying to push through the pain of living as everyone else died around him.

Clotho, Lachesis and Atrophos looked down into the Loom, staring at the thread of a single being in what they saw of the most twisted, distorted and strained portion of the Weave that had ever appeared there. Such strain, on one small piece of thread; they could see it begin to fray and shudder.

The Spinner of Threads sighed, shaking her head. "It isn't fair, sisters," she complained, yet again. "Why must it all fall on just him?"

The Cutter of Lines rubbed her wrinkled brow with a pair of gnarled fingers. "He is the Hero, young one," the crone replied. "Thud and Blunder, crash and bang and all that rot."

The Measurer of Lives tapped her lip with her index finger. "He is a Hero, true, sister," she admitted. "But this Weave is not natural or right. And his thread must stay at the correct length." She leaned over and teased at the knot in the loom, causing a curious occurrence.

The snarl moved. And as it did, a second thread was revealed, somehow spliced into and melding with the first thread, just under the knot above it and growing stronger as she watched. As the thread healed itself, the knot twitched, writhed and then inverted, becoming an entirely different formation. Still bizarrely distorted, still strained, yet somehow more balanced….

Harry waited, until the others were asleep, before he snuck into the bathroom and grabbed the bottle of sleeping pills in the medicine cabinet. He poured a glass of water, opened his purloined bottle and tilted it to his mouth, and stared into the mirror…

…looking right into the face of a beautiful preteen, dark auburn-haired girl with bright sapphire eyes and a lightning bolt-shaped scar in the middle of her forehead. The girl in the mirror's eyes widened behind her wire-rimmed frames, just like his. With shaking hands, he placed the cap back onto the bottle and returned it to the cabinet. He walked back to his room, laid down and stared up at the ceiling, watching the light play across the bare stucco.

As he fell asleep, all he could think was,

'At least this dream beats one from Voldemort…'


A scruffy head of dark colored hair burrowed deeper into the pillow on the bed, trying to shut out the outside world.


A small moan filtered into the otherwise quiet room, as if asking for some more time.


The head snapped up from the pillows, bright blue eyes wide in shock. "What the bloody hell is happening?" the owner of them asked, as she looked around the room. Instead of bare grayish-white walls, there was now a touch of pink to them, trimmed in an antique gold. On the walls, here and there, were pictures: a few Muggle ones, and more than a few Wizardly ones. Including one of a female Seeker, her fingers just about to close around the orb of a straining Snitch, her long scarlet hair snapping behind her due to the speed she was moving. Hedwig was perched on a natural-wood post in the corner, her head tucked under her wing.

She was further surprised once she looked downward, to see that, for all intents and purposes, the 'previous' five years had not happened. Instead of a lanky, yet wiry-muscled young adult male's physique, there was the slight baby-fat covered limbs of a young girl.

As she was taking inventory of the changes, a soft tap came from the door. "Hey, cousin," came a gentle call from Dudley. "Mom sounds anxious. Better get down there before she goes on the warpath."

The previously-male Potter child blinked in shock. "S-sure, Dudley, tell her I be down in a few," she responded hesitantly, as she tried to associate this nicer-sounding boy with the overweight, obnoxious sluggard that he had rode home with at the end of last term – or rather, five years from now. After a minute of dazed incomprehension, she shrugged it off and headed over to the closet to prepare for the day.

After clothing herself in a pair of nice, well fitting jeans and a dark green t-shirt, she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and opened the door carefully. She thought to herself, 'I haven't heard the sounds of Uncle Vernon yet. I better get a move on to make his food.' She paused for a second and sniffed the air. 'Bangers and eggs? Porridge? What's going on?' She followed her nose, which led her down the stairs and into the kitchen, where she received another shock.

There stood her Aunt Petunia, finishing a pair of sunny-side-up eggs, whistling a merry tune. She was dressed in a denim skirt and a peasant-blouse, a wide smile on her face as she turned to her niece. Off to the side, at the table were a slimmer but still somewhat bulky Dudley and… a sweater and cargoes-wearing Remus, grinning and fit-looking?

That was it for the time-tossed Boy-who-became-a-Girl-Who-Lived. Everything faded to a soft, comforting blackness….

Authoress' Notes:

I felt that it wasn't entirely fair that most of the HP series was completely down on nearly the entire cast, so I contemplated, cogitated and thunk on what could have been done.

Then I went to bed a week ago and dreamed of an A.U. where 'Harry' was 'Harri'. Her mothers looks, fathers eyes and the same enemy boss. Interestingly enough, if I close my eyes, I can continue this on from wherever I stopped the last time.

To preempt any questions, I'll give you the following hints:

- Yes, Harriet knows what 'Harry' went through up through OotP.

- No, Harry's change wasn't the only one that happens.

- Yes, The Fates are part of this, but more as an audience themselves. (Remember, the 'knot' on the Loom?)

- Yes, this will start as a rehash of Philosopher's Stone; but the differences will cause it to spiral off into original stuff fairly quickly.

- No, I'm not insane. Quirky, yes; completely nutters, no.

- Yes, I'm sure of that.

Next chapter: "Hi there, this is 'Harry'. Next up, I find I'm in the Twilight Zone. Well, not really, but it sure seems that way: Breakfast, Owls and… Uncle Remus taking me to Diagon Alley? All that and more, in 'Birthday Girl'. Next time.

The way it looks, someone is around the twist. Possibly the author…."