Destiny Reversed

Rays of sunlight filtered through the window of Harry Potter's room as he began to stir. Groggily, he opened his eyes, blinking fiercely as he adjusted to the light. Not bothering to put on his glasses, Harry laid there in that unfamiliar bed, staring up at the white ceiling, smiling in amusement when he saw a somewhat blurry wizard poster of England's national Quidditch team.

Bludgers flew about, thanks to the Beaters, and the Seeker executed an impressive loop to avoid one before speeding off to chase the Snitch again. Chasers passed the ball to each other and took turns throwing the Quaffle into the goal hoops, which the Goalkeeper adamantly attempted to save.

Harry watched the live action poster for a couple of minutes before directing his thoughts back to his dilemma. Last night, everything had been muddled and confusing, leaving his thoughts a jumble of theories and suspicions. The only thing he knows for sure is that he doesn't have the liberty of showing weakness, especially in this unfamiliar environment.

Something has to be done; Harry needs answers, not guesses and speculation. Sirius and Remus were definitely out -they were all a part of this. But then, who could Harry trust? Who would be trustworthy, even here? Closing his eyes in frustration, Harry cast his mind around, trying hard to think of some solution to all of this. Finally, he found himself staring in his mind's eye at a pair of twinkling blue eyes behind half moon spectacles.

Dumbledore. But the bubble of hope immediately burst when Harry remembered that the former Headmaster was dead.

But -if his parents and Sirius were alive, surely Dumbledore would be as well? It'd be the best place to start; Dumbledore was an incorruptible man, and if he can't help Harry, nobody can, with the exception of Ron or Hermione. But he wasn't sure where they were in all this. Harry knew he had to get in contact with them, see for himself whether or not they were his Ron and Hermione, and not the Ron and Hermione of this place.

Instinctively, Harry pushed on his glasses and made a move towards where Hedwig would normally reside. When it became clear that there was no cage or snowy white owl, Harry realized that this must be some sort of ripple effect. Hagrid had gotten him Hedwig -he supposed he would have gone school shopping with his parents instead of the Hogwarts gamekeeper.

Well, looks like he'll have to contact his friends through another way -

Harry turned around sharply, grabbed his wand from the bedside table, and pointed it threateningly at the grey owl stationed at the corner of the room, who had hooted loudly to get Harry's attention. Cautiously, wand still pointing at the bird, Harry moved towards what was apparently his owl, surprised that he hadn't noticed it yesterday. But then, he had been more concerned about the fact that Sirius and his parents were alive than what was in his room, and the owl seemed to be relatively quiet by nature. Maybe it felt like it'd been neglected for too long.

"Good girl . . . boy?" Harry asked, unsure of this particular owl's gender. Slowly, he lowered his wand and opened the cage. The owl gave a pleased hoot and hopped onto Harry's offered left arm obligingly, its talons lightly gripping Harry's arm.

"Er . . . I've got a message for you to deliver," Harry informed the owl, relieved that his right hand was free to write the message. He figured that Hermione would probably be in France or somewhere else on vacation right now, so Ron would be the better bet if he wanted a quick answer.

Ron,

I've got to talk to you. Reply back quickly.

Harry

Examining his brief message, Harry felt satisfied with this. If this was the Ron he knew, then he would definitely answer and they'd have to meet to figure out where they were and how to fix things, essentially save the day again. But if it was a different Ron, then there wouldn't be enough to make him suspicious or anything. He hoped. After rolling the little scrap of paper up, he placed it between the grey owl's raised talon, which clenched on the note as Harry asked, "Can you take this to Ron Weasley for me?" The owl hooted and flew up into the air, though it paused in front of the window.

"Oh, sorry," Harry apologized to the owl, opening the window for it. He paused for a moment to watch it glide through the sky, hoping that it'd reach its destination and bring back an optimistic note.

Harry glanced at the clock, noting the early hour. Maybe, with luck, the rest of the house's inhabitants (he tried not to think of them as family) would be asleep for a few more hours. Then, his resolve strong, he changed into regular every day clothes before searching every drawer, nook and cranny of his room for the Marauder's Map.

After a few minutes of incessant, frustrating searching, Harry gave up. Chances were that Dumbledore was at Hogwarts, pacing in his office, taking care of Order business or finding the Horcruxes. Like I should be doing, Harry reminded himself. But not before I figure out what the bloody hell's going on. The Marauder's Map would let him know for sure if Dumbledore was at Hogwarts -he'd even take McGonagall. At least she'd be able to give information on the Headmaster's whereabouts.

Well, even if Harry did see Dumbledore on the map, he'd still need a way to get into Hogwarts. He didn't have his Apparating license yet, but he'd managed it at the cave . . . he quickly shifted his thoughts away from that night, where Dumbledore had died for nothing, for a fake Horcrux -

Panicking, Harry dove his hand into his jeans pocket, searching for what he should've known wouldn't be there. After all, he's never worn these clothes before. He wasn't really sure why he was angry that he had lost the false Horcrux, only that it was a constant reminder of the sacrifices people have made for him.

"Damn it!" Harry cursed furiously, but reserved the urge to kick something for the real bad guys, not some poor desk. No; he'd save it for Voldemort, Bellatrix, and Snape.

Harry focused his energies again on finding a way to get into Hogwarts. His mind drifted back to the Apparation idea, but Hermione's scolding voice in the back of his mind rose to the surface: No, Harry, I've told you a million times! Hogwarts, A History specifically says that nobody can Apparate in or out of Hogwarts!

Merlin could he use Hermione now.

But Hermione isn't here, Harry reminded himself. He could Apparate outside of Hogwarts and find his way in . . . but how? He couldn't fly in; the only time those wards were down was when Dumbledore had lifted the magic preventing broomsticks from flying into the Hogwarts grounds from the outside. If he just simply knocked or yelled at someone to open the gates, he wasn't sure anyone could hear him in the vast property.

And sending a letter would take too long, and who knows how long it'll take Dumbledore to respond? Harry probably wasn't on his high priority list now that he wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived or The Chosen One. Silently, he cursed the Daily Prophet and all of the blind leaders of the Ministry, especially the Minister of Magic. It still made his blood boil that they had the nerve, after Dumbledore's death and treating them both like crap, to ask him to be their poster boy, support the bumbling misguided Ministry. Expression contorting in disgust as he thought about the labels he had detested, Harry wondered wistfully what it'd be like to just be Harry.

He quickly shook those thoughts out of his head, marveling at how off track he could get. After a few more minutes of deliberating, there was really only one thing that would work: floo powder.

The Potters must have floo powder somewhere; with two children unable to Apparate, they had to find a way to get places if they decided not to use Side-Along Apparation or had to go somewhere that blocked Apparation, like Hogwarts.

Knowing he had to floo to Hogwarts now, Harry carefully placed his wand in his back jeans pocket, pausing as he remembered Mad Eye Moody's harsh, panicked words two years ago: Don't put your wand there boy! What if it ignited? Better wizards than you have lost buttocks, you know!

A smile tugged at Harry's lips at that memory. Constant Vigilance!

Nevertheless, he gingerly took his wand out of his back pocket and into the pocket on his brilliantly red sweatshirt. He couldn't lose any buttocks or body parts there. Harry opened the door, fully intent on tip toeing past the sleeping Potters and avoiding any of the creaky floor tiles or steps with experienced ease.

Unfortunately, fate had a different plan for Harry.

The moment he opened the door and stepped in between his room and the rest of the house, something wet, heavy, and sticky fell on top of him, soaking his entire body in a mass of thick liquid, while loud bells sounded from nowhere, causing a stampede of footsteps coming his way.

"Merlin!" Lily gasped when she saw a Harry-like figure completely drenched in red and gold paint.

James just stared at the sight, noting Harry's still body, obviously still in shock at what had just been promptly dumped on him. A shadow of a mischievous, famous Marauder smile tugged at his lips, something that did not go unnoticed by his wife.

However, someone else did not seem to have the self-restraint to keep from laughing. A snort came from Violet, who had been standing beside her parents, her face red from trying not to laugh. She did not seem to be winning that inner battle though, and soon burst out laughing.

Lily exchanged amused glances with her husband and waited for their daughter to stop laughing. When the giggles finally subsided, Violet said slyly. "Well, Mum always thought the Gryffindor colors flattered you, Harry."

"Violet . . . where did you get the paint?" Lily demanded.

Her daughter looked somewhat guilty in that moment. "Er...I sort of...conjured it."

"And broke the rules again," James added, deciding to support his wife this time, although there was a hint of pride in his voice.

"But you're not going to report me, are you?" Violet asked sweetly, her entire demeanor changing to appeal to her parents. Harry, who had pulled out his wand and muttered "Scourgify" under his breath to get the paint off of him, could see again. And what he saw was Violet putting on the world's best pout, and from the exasperated looks on his parents' faces, they had seen this pout many times before.

"I swear, she gets that from you, James," Lily accused, rounding on her husband now.

James shrugged, but a faint roguish grin lit up his face. "Well, that and my good looks," he informed Lily in a light, teasing voice, breaking out of the solemn mood he had possessed the night before.

"Not so good," Lily retorted, her voice equally teasing. "Remember the first six years of Hogwarts?"

James winced. "Painfully."

Harry realized that his mum was talking about the years she had loathed James Potter, when he'd been a big headed, egotistic prick who asked her out every day. With a grimace, Harry remembered his fear that his father had actually forced his mum to marry him against her will, a fear that Remus and Sirius were quick to quash, although in the back of Harry's mind, there had always been a sliver of a doubt.

Refraining from groaning, Harry realized that his plan to sneak off to Hogwarts was ruined. Irritated and annoyed at Violet for playing a prank on him right when he was trying to figure everything out, he resisted the strong urge to hex her. Great; unless he could somehow get everyone else back to sleep, he would have to wait for the next opportunity. Well, that or Ron's returning letter.

"Why'd you have to dump paint all over me?" he demanded angrily. "What's next, pots and pans?"

Violet looked taken aback at his outburst. "You've never minded before . . ." she said quietly, sounding sad. But she shrugged it off and continued in a stronger voice. "Everyone was all depressed and stressed out from yesterday; I figured some laughter was needed. Sorry -but it really was a tame prank, you know!" she burst out suddenly, hazel eyes defensive.

Harry sighed. "Fine," he said rather begrudgingly.

Well, he'd better get into the swing of things here, if just to avoid them carting him off to an insane asylum if he started giving hints that he lived in a world where Lily, James, and Sirius were dead and Violet didn't exist. Maybe he could coax some answers out of them; it was the most he could do right now.

"Why don't you remove the enchantment you have on the doorway, Violet," Lily prodded gently.

"Okay." Violet ran back to her room and grabbed her wand, rushing back to where the rest of her family was waiting. She waved her wand above Harry's head and muttered some incoherent words.

Suddenly, two bells and two empty cans of paint appeared out of nowhere and came crashing onto Harry's head.

"HARRY!"

Vision becoming blurry, his head spinning around in circles, Harry swaggered and fell to the ground with a mighty thump, blacking out, but not before he had one last thought.

Looks like there's another Marauder in the family.

* * *

"I'm really, really, really sorry!" Violet apologized over and over again, looking genuinely stricken. "I didn't mean for everything to fall on you, really!"

"Mm hmm," Harry grumbled, one hand on his head as he glared furiously at her. His mum had removed the large lumps on his head, but he was still nursing a massive headache after the healing. Harry was seriously convinced that someone really wanted him to fail.

A loud clang sounded as two pancake filled plates were placed in front of the two teens, the teeth of their forks sinking deeply into the pancakes.

Harry was surprised to see that their breakfast was made without magic, Muggle style. But then, Lily Potter was a Muggle born, so maybe he shouldn't be surprised that she had decided to keep some traditions of the normalcy her sister so desperately clings onto. He ignored Violet as she dove straight into her breakfast, instead choosing to watch his parents interact with each other. Figuring that his chance today to seek out Dumbledore was pretty much shot, Harry decided to lie low and gather information on this end.

Lily was busy flipping over a pancake, revealing the fully cooked end on top. James swooped in behind her, gently pulling back her flaming red hair and kissing the nape of her neck. "James!" she admonished playfully.

"What?" he asked, the telltale smirk betraying his innocent expression. Harry noted that James seemed to be in a much more cheerful mood after Violet's prank; he had to admit that the practical joke had garnered the effect that Violet had wanted, albeit at Harry's expense.

"Nothing," Lily replied, turning around to briefly graze her lips over his, only to deepen it, apparently forgetting that their children were in the room with them.

Harry wrinkled his nose and turned to face Violet, who was staring at her parents with an expression that mirrored his.

"Ew," she commented loudly before attacking her pancakes again.

That reminded Lily and James that they weren't alone, and they sheepishly went back to cooking. But Harry smiled; any doubts about his parents' relationship were wiped from his mind. They both seemed to be very much in love with each other, and even if they were imposters, this fact still comforted Harry somewhat.

After all the cooking was done, the adults sat down with the kids, and they passed around the maple syrup and poured Harrods Knightsbridge English Breakfast Blend tea into their awaiting cups. The conversation was subdued in respect for what had happened the night before, although Violet did try to press her parents for information numerous times throughout the meal.

Harry heard tapping sounds behind him, frowning as he turned around to pinpoint the source of the noise -a tawny owl with what looked like a brown pouch and a Daily Prophet. Harry leaned back, fumbled with the latch for a few seconds, and opened the window for the owl, which hooted its gratitude and thrust the wizard newspaper at James. After placing a Knut into the little brown pouch, James took the paper from the owl and gave it a little nibble of his pancake before it went on its way back into the clear, blue, cloudless sky.

James conjured his glasses from nowhere and put them on, opening up the paper and intently reading the front page, frowning more and more deeply the longer he read.

"What's wrong Jam -" Lily began before suddenly putting a hand over her mouth and gagging. Her eyes widened in alarm before she dashed to the bathroom, where distant retching sounds echoed into the hallway.

James stared in the direction where his wife had gone, looking extremely worried. Turning to his children, he asked, "You two aren't feelings sick, are you?"

Violet and Harry exchanged glances and shook their heads; Harry felt fine. James set the Daily Prophet down and traced Lily's steps to the bathroom. Violet snatched the abandoned newspaper before Harry could, frustrating him. Reading the newspaper would help him learn what was going on here.

"Er . . . can I have that?" he asked as Violet scanned the front page with scrunched eyebrows.

"I got it first," she replied coolly, not even bothering to look up at him.

"You dumped paint, buckets, and bells on my head," Harry reminded her.

Violet looked up at him with a confused expression. "So?"

Harry bit back a scream of frustration. Now he had an idea of what Ron had to go through with seven siblings. Finally, he just snatched the Daily Prophet out of Violet's hands, ignoring her squeal of protest, and quickly read the front page, the familiar title and picture of an uncomfortable looking boy causing his eyes to widen and his mouth to gape open as he read on.

The Chosen One: Ally of the Ministry of Magic or Unwilling Puppet?

The Chosen One, also known as the Boy-Who-Lived, has recently been a constant figure around the vast Ministry of Magic, writes Rita Skeeter, the Daily Prophet's esteemed correspondent. Neville Longbottom, who at first had been reluctant to make himself a public figure, has finally relented and now, after the heartbreaking tragedy of last year, decided to move on and join the Ministry in its hunt for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Asked about young Neville's and his mentor's past reluctance to cooperate with the Ministry, and the reason why he has changed his mind, our honorable Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, answered, "Well, it seems that Neville has realized, after the events of the end of last school term, that decisive action must be taken, and taken immediately. He knows now that working for the Ministry will be in his best interest, that we have the means to provide him with the best Auror protection available, and that we will ultimately be of great aid to him in his quest to defeat You-Know-Who." Neville, who has been the object of both ridicule and admiration, only said that "well, in light of [You-Know-Who]'s return, I have taken it upon myself to save the Wizarding world from such an abomination. I am not just doing it for those who are living in such fear now, but for my parents. Yes, I miss them very much; sometimes I still cry about them when I am alone." Therefore, despite everything the boy has gone through, Neville still possesses sensitivity, and a stray tear could be seen as our meeting ended. But, this reporter was not entirely convinced of this sudden change of heart. After much digging and searching, I have come across overwhelming evidence that this new role may not indeed be a completely voluntary act on young Neville's part. For instance -

Before Harry could read any further, the paper was snatched back by an irate Violet, but Harry didn't care anymore. His brain was still spinning from the recent hoard of information he had just received. Neville was the Boy-Who-Lived?! So that means that the Prophecy does exist, just -just in the form of Neville Longbottom. Their roles have been reversed.

Harry felt a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach as he thought of shy, timid Neville facing everything Harry had faced in his life. Having your parents being tortured into insanity was bad enough but to have Harry's life -he just couldn't imagine it.

However, what bothered him the most was Neville's quote in the Prophet, which was said with arrogance. But then Harry remembered with anger that Rita Skeeter had been the one who had written that article, so she had probably used that bloody quill of hers and twisted Neville's words, or perhaps invented them completely. He couldn't believe she was still writing! But then, if she had never investigated Harry, why would Hermione go looking for blackmail?

Nevertheless, Harry noted that Neville had taken a completely different path than he had, choosing to be the Ministry's poster boy. He wondered what else was different.

Before his thoughts could go any deeper, a loud pop sounded, causing Harry to flinch and immediately pull out his wand, pointing it in Sirius Black's face.

"It's okay, Harry, it's just me," Sirius reassured him, gently pushing the tip of Harry's wand down, away from Sirius's face.

Harry let out the breath he had been holding and relaxed while Violet got up and hugged Sirius, asking if he was okay.

"I'm good," he replied, then pausing, adding under his breath. "Sort of."

Violet cocked her head to one side. "What's wrong Uncle Sirius?"

He gave her a small smile and shook his head, "Nothing, just thinking about yesterday and a certain four timing ex-girlfriend who I've wasted a precious year dating."

"Oh," Violet said, her face falling. "I'm sorry, Uncle Sirius!"

"Four timing?"

Sirius sighed dramatically. "You heard right; Aubrey had three other boyfriends."

"Bad luck, Padfoot."

Everyone turned around to see Lily and James standing in the doorway, both giving Sirius sympathetic smiles.

"I'm so sorry Sirius," Lily said gently. "I really thought she was the one."

"Really?" Sirius asked, confused. "I didn't."

James rolled his eyes in exasperation. "You're cursed, Padfoot, I really think you are. You just don't pick the right people."

Sirius slumped in his seat, looking defeated. "I know. Look at everyone else, eloping and marrying left and right! And with me being an Order member and Auror and all . . . my chances of something happening are pretty high. I'm thirty bloody seven, for Merlin's sake! My clock is ticking!"

Upon seeing Violet's ashen expression, Lily glared at Sirius, warning him to be careful. Her daughter has been especially worried about her parent's lives after her friend had died, which had made the risks of the job very real to her. Reminding her that being in both the Order and an Auror doubled their chances of dying was not a good idea at this point.

At last, Sirius had sobered up and was now scrutinizing Lily carefully. "You don't look well, Lils, you alright?"

Lily muttered something about an upset stomach, but Sirius saw the suspicious blush creeping up her cheeks, the defensive way one hand rested on her stomach. "Wait . . ." he said, mouth gaping slightly in realization. "My future godchild isn't in there, is it?"

"What?"

Harry was absolutely stunned; what other curves was this place going to throw at him?

James was the first to recover. "You -you're p -pregnant?" he stuttered, looking caught between a mixture of elated happiness and extreme anxiety.

"I think so," Lily said quietly, fidgeting under everyone's gazes. "I didn't -I didn't want to say anything until I was sure." With that, she glared heatedly at Sirius, who had the grace to look ashamed.

"Oh no," James said, suddenly looking tired and withered as he collapsed heavily into a chair.

"This . . . this isn't good news?" Lily asked hesitantly.

James's raised his head, casting his wife an apologetic glance. "No, it's great news, it's just . . . it's so dangerous now -"

The atmosphere of the room quickly became somber as everyone's, except Harry's, minds began imagining the dangers of a marked Auror and Order member being so vulnerable. Harry was just getting more and more confused as the day went on; were all these events, all these differences, supposed to do something? There must be some purpose, unless he was just imagining all this. But as hard as he tried to, Harry just couldn't believe that; everything was just too real to be an illusion.

Harry drummed his fingers on the table in a comforting beat, appearing to be in thought about the newest Potter when he was really examining Sirius carefully, watching him for any little tiny out of character reaction. He didn't find any; everything about him, from the way he scrunched his eyebrows to the confident way he held himself sitting on the chair, was all completely and utterly Sirius Black.

The room was silent for a moment, but for Harry it seemed to drag on for an eternity. The only sounds he could hear were the rhythmic drumming of his fingertips and the ticking of the clock next to the cabinet. Tick, tock, tick, tock.

Finally, the scrapping sound of a chair moving across the floor entered his ears, making him flinch at the unexpected noise. James had gotten and embraced Lily, murmuring words of apology in her ear.

"I'm sorry, Lily, I'm happy, I really am! I'm just -"

"Worried?" Lily finished for him, smiling sadly.

Sirius coughed to get their attention. "I hate to be the one to break this up but Scrimgeour wants the Aurors to come to the office to discuss last night; he's apparently under the impression that he's still the Head of our department. Want to know how Dumbledore's secret Order found out about the massacre." He scowled as he continued, "I don't see what he's so upset about; everything was going to hell by the time we got there."

This intrigued Harry greatly. "Why would he be so against the Order of the Phoenix?"

"Because it was started by Dumbledore," Violet responded before anyone else could. "And he's never liked him, has he? Scrimgeour's the kind of person who likes to hold a tight leash on everything; Dumbledore founding a secret Order purely made for fighting Voldemort and the Death Eaters implies that the Ministry isn't doing a good job. So basically, he's a little baby who's insulted when the older kids help. Duh, Harry."

"Oh, right." Harry said, realizing that Rufus Scrimgeour was the same everywhere. Then it hit him that Violet had called Voldemort by his name, not You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He couldn't help but have a little respect for the immature prankster for not giving in to the fear. But then, he doubted Lily and James Potter refused to call him "Voldemort" so perhaps she had just been raised this way.

Harry wanted to ask what would happen if the Minister found out they were Order members, but held his tongue, catching the look Lily sent him. She was starting to get suspicious with his question; he must have asked them this already, and Harry couldn't afford to get trapped in the corner now, not before he found out more.

"We'd better get going," Sirius reminded them, checking his watch. "We can't afford to be late."

Husband and wife nodded. "Bye Harry, Violet, don't get into trouble while we're gone, you hear?"

"What could we possibly do?" Violet asked innocently, batting her eyelashes.

James's voice was stern. "No more pranks; I think your brother's had enough for the week."

The week?! Harry thought incredulously. Just how often did Violet prank people? He really, really hoped he'd get to the bottom of this soon, if just to avoid being the object of another practical joke. He stared at the calm outside the window of the Potter house, knowing that he must get back to what he's supposed to be doing -finishing what he started.

With a quick kiss on their foreheads, Lily rejoined the other two and Apparated to the Ministry of Magic.

The moment they left the room, Harry rounded on his sister. "What would happen if Scrimgeour found out they were Order members?"

Violet looked taken aback by this question for a moment, but answered anyway. "They'd be fired, probably. And maybe worse, I dunno." She tried to pass the way she said it off with an offhand manner, but Harry could tell that behind that, she was worried.

Harry poked his pancake, deep in thought. Now that he's been here for a little bit, it was easier to play his part. His strategy right now seems to be working; he figured he'd stick to it for the moment, although he'd make sure to floo to Hogwarts in the morning. Going at night wasn't a good idea -he wasn't sure if they'd check on him or not- but if he went in the morning, he could pass it off as something else. A nighttime excursion was bound to be more suspicious.

But the truth was, he needed more time to plan, to absorb everything before he confronted Dumbledore, if he was there. As hard as he tried to optimistic about it, he couldn't help but feel like everything was about to spin out of control.

Well, life was full of unexpected surprises.