Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Living a Lie: The Philosopher's Stone

It's just one of those weeks

by Nooka 0 reviews

What if Harry was a girl? But, due to safety reasons, the Wizarding world thought she was a he? Follow Harry as she attempts to keep her secret in a new, and often strange, world.

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: PG - Genres: Humor - Characters: Dumbledore, Harry, Lupin, Snape - Warnings: [?] - Published: 2006-06-16 - Updated: 2006-06-16 - 1655 words

This chapter was supposed to be longer but I decided to cut it down and use the second half in the next chapter. Hope you like!

Disclaimer: Can I claim Harley to be mine?



"Harry." Screeched Petunia. "Harry, get up and cook the bacon!" Harley Jayne Potter was a small scruffy eleven year old girl, although you wouldn't notice because she had short black hair, which stuck up everywhere much to her Aunt's disgust, and she dressed like a boy. In her cousins hand me downs, to be precise. Add that to the fact that the Dursley's called her Harry. It wasn't surprising that the whole world thought that she was a male. "HARRY!"

Harley groaned and pulled herself out of her cupboard. "I'm coming you stupid banshee." She muttered under her breath. Harley yawned and poured some oil into a frying pan; she stuck some rashes of bacon into the pan and put it onto the hob.

Harley gazed out of the window, turning the bacon occasionally, and thinking about life. Her life, specifically. Why on earth did her Aunt and Uncle believe that pretending to be a boy would make life more bearable? What would Stonewall High be like? And why was the answer to life, the universe and everything forty-two? Harley sighed as she dished out the bacon, she'd never get that last one.

Petunia entered the kitchen after taking ages to peg out the washing. Harley knew it was just an excuse to see the Porton's new conservatory. "Go and clean up the front room, I want it to be spotless for when Mrs Porton comes round."

Harley mock-bowed when her Aunt wasn't looking and grabbed the dusting stuff and the Hoover, which lived in her precious cupboard. She moved the cushions on the sofa to plump them up and felt down the sides. Ooooo, found a pound! She grinned. Finder's keepers!

The letter box clanged as Harley stuffed said coin into her pocket. "Get the mail, boy!" yelled Uncle Vernon from the kitchen.

Harley rolled her eyes and went to the letter box, avoiding Dudley, who was swinging his Smelting's stick in attempt to hit her. She picked the post up off the welcome mat, snorting at the stupid thing. Let's seeee...bill, bill, bank statement, bill, postcard with boring picture, and a letter for me...a letter for me! Harley grinned, but then reality hit. Who would want to write to her? Maybe it was Dudley's idea of a joke? Harley snorted at that. Yeah right, that would mean Dudley would have to think!

"Hurry up, Potter! What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" Harley rolled her eyes as her Uncle laughed at his own joke, it was too sad to even dignify with a response.

She tucked her letter into her pocket and took the mail into the kitchen. If it was a joke, then she didn't want to give Dudley the satisfaction of getting one over on her. But, if it wasn't a joke, she didn't want the Dursley's to confiscate her mail. Harley cleared away the breakfast dishes and decided to read it when Mrs Porton was being interrogated by Aunt Petunia over her new conservatory. Speaking of Mrs Porton, Harley had a room to clean.


Mrs Porton came over at twelve and Harley was banished from the house until two that afternoon under pain of death, or rather, a very long stay in the cupboard.

She breathed in the fresh summer air and smiled, freedom from the evil Dursley's for two whole hours! Well, from her Aunt and Uncle. Who knew where Dudley and his minions were lurking, she should get to her secret den before they turned up to spoil her few hours of peace. Harley entered the park and looked around quickly before turning into the wood. She walked for a while until she came to an old oak tree. Looking around to make sure she hadn't been followed, Harley then climbed the tree to her tree house at the top. She had found it one day when she'd been running from Dudley's gang a couple of years ago, she was sure no one knew about it.

Harley sat down on the floor and pulled out her letter. She observed it before she opened it. The envelope was thick, heavy and made of yellowish paper. Parchment? She shook her head, who'd use parchment when there were decent paper envelopes around? Strangely enough, there wasn't a stamp and it was addressed in green ink to Miss H. Potter, The Cupboard under the Stairs, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.

Harley concluded that it had to be a joke cooked up by the Dursley's because a) only they knew that she was a girl, b) it didn't have a stamp and c) who ever sent it knew about her sleeping quarters. It was a little strange for the Dursley's to do this as Harley had always been of the opinion that they either didn't have a sense of humour or they had a very basic one. Neither of which this letter would fall into. Sighing, she decided to open the letter


Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc, Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International confed. of Wizards.)

Dear Miss Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on the 1st of September. We await your owl by no later than the 31st of July.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress.

Harley raised an eyebrow and laughed. A school of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Yeah, of course magic exists! I bet they wear pointy hats and give lessons in how to cackle over cauldrons. She sniggered. How gullible do they think I am? She stuffed the letter back in its envelope and put it back in her pocket. It would be cool if there was a school of magic though, imagine the possibilities. Harley smirked; she could turn the Dursley's into toads and use them as ingredients in one of her potions. I am so evil. She looked at her watch. Damn! Time to return to the Wicked Witch of the West and her flying monkeys!


Two weeks later found Harley polishing her Aunts' beloved silver spoons, wondering why her Aunt had the blasted things if she didn't use them or display them. Foolish woman...the doorbell rang, interrupting her mental grumbles about her Aunts' insane behaviour. Harley wiped her hands as the doorbell rang again; followed by a series of impatient knocks.

"Alright, I'm coming." Yelled Harley. "Chill out." She muttered under her breath and opened the door to reveal a tall, pale man with greasy black hair, who was dressed all in black. Harley smiled pleasantly. "Can I help you, sir?" The man sneered at Harley, whose pleasant smiled remain intact but whose mind had come to the conclusion that he was a bad tempered Goth who clearly didn't like her.

"I take it that you are Mr Harry Potter?" he asked with a glare.

"That would all depend on who's looking for him." She raised an eyebrow in question.

The Goth, or so Harley thought him to be, narrowed his eyes. "I am Professor Snape, the Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am here to take you to Diagon Alley to purchase your school supplies."

Harley gave him a contemplative look. "Have you got any ID?"

Professor Snape growled." Look Potter, I have better things to do then play games with you. Now, are you coming or am I going to have to drag you there?"

Harley raised an eyebrow at the Potions Master's outburst. "I've been taught not to walk off with strange people and dragging me anywhere would be considered kidnap. I'm sure you don't want to be jailed for kidnap, sir." She smiled innocently at him. "So, you got any ID?"

"No." he said in a dangerously quiet tone.

"Then I'm afraid I can't go anywhere with strange men claiming to be a potions master at a school of magic. Good Day sir." She closed the door, leaving a furious Potions Master on her Aunts' doorstep.

Snape snarled. Who did Potter think he was? He was just as arrogant as his Father, if not more so. Snape apparated to the Leaky Cauldron and stormed up to the fireplace, pulling out a handful of grey powder and naming his destination.

He appeared in the fireplace in Dumbledore's office in an extremely bad mood. The Headmaster looked up. "You are back early, Severus."

Snape scowled. "Potter refused to come with me, the insufferable brat."

Dumbledore smiled at his young Potions Master, his eyes twinkling in amusement. "And why would that be, Severus?"

"He wanted ID." Hissed Snape dangerously.

Dumbledore chuckled and stood up "Then let us return to Privet Drive and show Mr Potter our 'ID'." He said, magically producing two fake ID cards.

Dumbledore offered a pot filled with grey powder out to Severus, who grumbled and took a handful before throwing it into the flamed in the fireplace, calling out 'The Leaky Cauldron'. The Headmaster smiled, it seemed like this year would be very interesting with the return of Harley Potter to the Magical world.


Hmmmmm, a rather interesting encounter between Snape and Harley, wouldn't you say? The next chapter will include Diagon Alley and the Sorting...well, hopefully the Sorting. I hope you enjoyed this one, I know it's not very interesting but I really wanted to update this fic just a little quicker.

By the way, which house should I put Harley in? I'm thinking Hufflepuff for some bizarre reason. Tell me if I should, I don't think I've come across a 'Harry is a Hufflepuff' one yet.

Review por favor!

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