Reweaving Fate's Tapestry

Reweaving Fate's Tapestry (or I Should Have Been a Ballet Dancer)

From the record of the lecture of Professor P. Doxical, Hogwart's Charms Master, January 10th, 1942:

"Now, you might ask if, when a person goes into the past and changes their own past, why they still remember the history in which they originated. Unlike inanimate objects, human beings who undergo time travel seem immune to change. The best explanation yet forwarded is the theory of Swiss chronologist, Zeit. He proposed that since the altered future is dependent on the actions of someone aware of the original future, the time traveller must exist with memories of the original future for an altered personification of the traveller to exist in the new time period, and thus cannot cease to exist after the change has occurred."

***

June l 6, 1993

Pansy Parkinson looked at herself in the mirror and frowned.

"Why can't I be more pretty? Draco will never notice ugly old pug-nosed me."

"He's probably gay. You know he does dance ballet?" her mirror retorted. But that didn't stop her from having a crush on him, Pansy thought with a sigh. Crash.

Turning around, she saw a man flying in through her window. She quickly grabbed her wand and pointed it at him. Seeing his blue robes, she thought that she might be rewarded for killing him. But before she had a chance, another man slipped in through the window. At first she didn't recognize him, but upon seeing his red eyes she panicked. Lord Voldemort? In her bedroom? Why couldn't she be in her lace pyjamas at a time like this instead of a flannel nightgown?

"I've got you now, Weasley." Voldemort sneered at the balding red headed man on the floor. Weasley reached for his wand and pointed. Voldemort only laughed at him, and said, "Crucio". Weasley tried a spell. Pansy thought it was Rictusempuria, but it was misdirected, and she had to duck. Voldemort's eyes shifted towards her. He smiled then lifted Cruciatus from Weasley.

"Imperio," Voldemort said, pointing at Weasley. "Now we can't have any witnesses to our little fun, can we, Arthur?" The red head nodded and pulled out his wand. It took Pansy a second or two to realize they meant her, and then ran behind her mirror. Apparently her reflexes were fast enough because the Avada Kedavra completely missed her and hit the mirror. The voice in the mirror was shrieking, but apparently not dying. The green light was being refracted from the mirror, and hitting Voldemort between the eyes, causing smoke to come out of his forehead. After what seemed like an eternity Arthur Weasley lowered his wand and shivered. Voldemort collapsed on the floor. Pansy crawled out of her hiding spot.

"Is he ... dead? Is it possible? My dad said he was immortal," Pansy blurted.

Weasley shook his head, but he was smiling. "His body's still alive, but I don't think he'll be much of a threat now. I think it blew his brains out."

***

1998 (again)

Draco Malfoy skimmed through Nott's record of the first rise of Voldemort. No Boy Who Lived, No Tickling, No Nectar of the Gods, everything seemed fine. Except that it apparently ended with only the note, in a different handwriting, saying that Nott was captured in 1992. Well, that was at least seven years better than last time. He walked into the Leaky Cauldron, hoping that this time would be last. The more he thought about it, the less happy he was about having to kill Professor Snape, but he knew it was for the ultimate good. Voldemort's empire had to come about somehow.

At the Leaky Cauldron he saw a stunning blond witch signing autographs and talking to patrons in a pink robe. It was funny, but she wasn't anyone he knew from this reality.

"Draco, oy, Draco," she said, waving him down. Seeing him not react, she pulled him to sit at his table.

"So, how are things working out between you and Ernie? Haven't seen you in the longest time; not since you starred in Don Quixote," she said.

"Well, you can't go chasing windmills all the time," he said, trying to think of an Ernie he knew. It just didn't seem to fit any girl he knew, and was definitely not Slytherin-ish. It seemed more like a Hufflepuff, like that Macmillan kid who went out with the pigtailed girl before she died... what was his name...

"Well, it's good to see you well," she replied. "You want a Butterbeer, or can I tempt you for something stronger?"

"Butterbeer is fine, err..." he said.

"Honestly, Draco, it's Pansy. Pansy Parkinson," she scoffed.

"Oh, yes, stupid me," Draco replied. This was Pansy? The Pansy he knew was whiny, manipulative... well, this one was pretty and seemed nice enough. Maybe she would be interested in being consort to the heir to Voldemort's empire? The waiter placed a mug of Butterbeer in front of him.

"Honestly, Draco, I don't know how you could be so dense. Don't you know me? Back in third year after the mirror incident you were all over me. That was, of course, before you decided you liked Ernie. I mean we should have known you swung that way, what with all the ballet..." Draco choked for a second, then spit out all the Butterbeer in shock. Pansy stared at him for a while. "Well, I know there are some straight male ballet dancers, just not the majority. Weren't you telling me this just last Christmas?" she said with a wink. Draco ran out of the Leaky Cauldron.

What had he done, and why was he gay? Well, he could dye his hair or something, and not be confused for mister prima ballerina when he was heir to the evil empire. Ernie Macmillan? Draco shook his head. He ducked into Flourish and Blott's, hoping Pansy wouldn't come in looking for him. Maybe here would be a good place to begin the process of contacting the empire. He walked to the history section, and leafed through a history of the dark arts. He was surprised to see Pansy's mirror incident mentioned on one page and decided to take a closer look. Voldemort was on the permanent invalids' wing of St. Mungo's? Why did he have to do all the work keeping that man alive and well? After buying the book, he set out.

***

June 16, 1993

"Why can't I be more pretty? Draco will never notice ugly old pug-nosed me."

"He's probably gay. You know," Pop.

"I am not," Draco said, Apparating in and punching through the mirror. Just then, a redheaded man came flying through the window and knocked him down. Quickly getting up, Draco Apparated away, just in time to see Voldemort enter the room.