So I'm writing another HP fic. I know, I know, my last one was a bit of a flop but trust me this one is better and longer and no Mary Sues! YEAH!

Now please don't jump to conclusions and start flaming my butt off after just one chapter wait until chapter 2 and 3 and you'll see where I'm taking this.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter but I do own Megan and the Plot!

Having Harry's Destiny- I didn't want this pain…

Megan Thompson stared out the window of the house on Grimmauld lane. How long she had been at that house she didn't really know. A day? A week? A month? Two months? She had forgotten or never noticed in the first place. She was a plain girl, the kind that fades into a crowd. Wavy light brown hair that fell slightly below her shoulders and dark brown eyes that seemed so sad and burdened.

She was thinking about that fatal day when her life had turned to hell. It had started out happy and carefree and in a moment had changed. She had been on vacation in London with her family. She was originally from the US. They had been walking down the back streets of London away from the main tourist thoroughfare looking for small shops that lay hidden away in odd places. They had been so happy. And then it all had come crashing down upon her. Her family had gone…she couldn't remember where but they weren't there when it happened or at least she didn't remember them being there.

There had been a boy walking up the sidewalk toward her. He had seemed cute but she couldn't tell because he had his face down, thinking. Not that he would have noticed her had he been looking up. No one ever noticed her. It was his messy black hair and heavy gate that had caught her attention. He had looked up and scanned the shops across the street and had found the one he was looking for. He went to cross the street.

Megan had opened her mouth to scream but the van had hit him before the sound had a chance to escape her throat. The sickening thud echoed in her ears and the image replayed in her head.

Without thinking she had rushed to his side. He was alive but barely, a crumpled heap on the cobblestone street. She had knelt down beside him.

"Don't move." She instructed. There was shouting around her but she didn't hear it.

He looked at her. There was no fear in his green eyes. Pain. But no fear.

"What's your name?" she asked

"Harry." He rasped. He was struggling to breathe.

"I'm Megan. Tell me were it hurts."

"Chest…head…legs…everywhere." She didn't know it then but his legs were broken in several places, he had a massive concussion and several fractures in his arms. He would have survived had that been all but the collision had broken several of his ribs and they had punctured his lungs. He was drowning in his own blood.

She ripped off her sweater, folded it, and put it beneath his head.

"Here hold my hand." He took her hand and squeezed it.

"I had prepared myself to die, but not like this." He whispered almost to himself. "I dreamed of a thousand painful ways it would happen, but I never dreamed it'd be like this." He began to laugh but a coughing spell stopped him. He was coughing up blood. She wiped it away with her sleeve. His eyes met hers again. She didn't try to give him the false hope he was expecting.

"Thank you."

She squeezed his hand.

"It isn't my time. I have things to do….the prophecy….Voldemort." He was getting angry.

"No one knows their time, Harry." She whispered. He looked at her like he was trying to decide something.

"Unless…" he reached into his pocket and pulled out a stick. Megan frowned.

"Let this work." He seemed to be begging the stick.

He coughed more blood. She wiped it away.

"What was mine is now yours,

Through you my task will be done,

Prophecy fulfilled,

And evil undone."

He touched the stick to her head. A light. A burning sensation.

Then it was gone. With her free hand she clasped her head getting his blood on her face.

"What was that?" she asked in a scared whisper.

"You'll…see…" he whispered. He held the stick up again and she looked at it warily.

"Take this." She didn't budge. "You're going to need it. Please."

Hesitantly she reached out and took the stick. When nothing happened she relaxed. Her attention was brought back to Harry when he fell into another coughing fit. More blood. She wiped it away. It was getting harder and harder for him to breathe. He motioned for her to come closer and when she didn't come close enough he put his free hand behind her neck and pulled her closer until the space between their noses was almost nonexistent.

"Looks like….you'll have to…save the world…. now." he managed to get out. Before she could answer he pulled her closer and their lips touched. Looking back she was sure it hadn't been a kiss. It couldn't have been a kiss.

Cold, deathly air rushed into her mouth, suffocating her. She wanted to gag, to cough it out but instead she simply sat up, her eyes locked on his. The hand that had held her head slid down her arm and lay awkwardly across his body. The hand that had gripped hers soo tightly was now limp in her hand. But she only noticed his eyes. They were staring blankly at the spot where her face had just been. They had a glassy, empty look. He was gone.

Someone, probably a medic, pulled her away from his now lifeless body. A swarm of people hovered over him. She didn't notice them. She stood clutching the stick to her chest staring straight ahead. She didn't notice when his friends rushed screaming and crying to his side, when the medics gave up hope at saving him and shipped his body away, when the people around her began to dissipate, when the police officer tried to take her statement. She didn't notice the tears streaming down her face, the sorrow she felt over this stranger's death, the pain she felt for his friends and family, but mostly she didn't notice the cold feeling of dread that started in her heart and spread slowly through her body. She ignored the whisper in the back of her mind that this was only the beginning of her pain and suffering.

Instead she focused all her thoughts on the shop across the street. It was the one he had been heading to but yet it wasn't. It had…changed. She couldn't remember what had been there before but she knew that it hadn't looked like this. No, it had definitely changed. She applied her whole brain into figuring out this change and allowed no space to dwell on the previous events.

Across the street a group of people stood sadly looking at the spot where Harry had lain. There were adults and children, well, more like teenagers. They looked as if their world had ended abruptly and cruelly. A girl with brown curly hair was crying on the shoulder of a red-haired boy. It was the red head that saw her first. Through his tears he saw her staring blankly at the building behind him. He glanced back at it and then back to her. He had just noticed her tears and had begun to contemplate them when he saw the wand clutched tightly in her hands. He froze. He knew that wand. Anger rose in his body and stormed across the street. He didn't care why she had the wand, he was just mad.

"GIVE ME THAT!" he yelled at her and attempted to grab it from her but she yanked it out of his reach. Her face showed no sign of realization of what he had said and she done. Inside thoughts were breaking through the wall she had built. Push them back. Push them back! Think of the store.

"WHERE DID THAT COME FROM?" she broke out of her revere and pointed wildly to the store. "THAT WAS NOT THERE BEFORE! I mean it was there but IT DIDN'T LOOK LIKE THAT!"

The boy and his friends froze trying to comprehend what she was saying. There was a wild look in her eye and she looked on the edge of a break down. An old man with a long gray beard stepped forward.

"That object in your hands, young lady, belonged to the boy who died here earlier. He was a very dear friend of ours and we would like it back." He said in a kind but strained voice.

"NNNNNNOOOOOO!" she shouted at him, shocking them all. "He gave it to me. He said…NO! NO!" she began to beat sporadically on her head. "That!" she pointed to the store. "Must think of that!"

"What did he say?" the brown haired girl cried. "What did Harry say?"

"Nooo…" Megan begged.

"Please." The girl pleaded. "Oh, please." Megan broke down and sank to her knees. Sobs rocked her body. She sat there crying for several minutes before she felt a hand on her back. "Ssshh.." the person said. She vaguely felt a tug on the stick in her hand. She didn't react; her mind was in turmoil. Another tug followed. She snapped.

"NO!" she lunged back to her feet. "He said I would need it. I don't understand but he said I would need it." The others looked confused and worried.

"What do you mean, "need it?"" someone asked

"I don't know! Something about prophecy and evil and saving the world." She touched her head. "It burnt me…. I think. At least it felt like it burnt." The others began to exchange nervous looks and there was a lot of talking. Next thing Megan knew she was in a bedroom of sorts with people asking her all sorts of questions about what had happened with Harry. She could hear herself answering but was unaware of the thought process behind the answers. Her mind was elsewhere; in that place she escaped to whenever life was dull or overbearing.

They told her about Harry; his life, his hardships, his burden. The prophecy. They later told her that they thought Harry had somehow transferred his destiny to her. Joyful. They had brought her to this house sometime in the days that followed. She had gone to some shop and picked out another stick, er, wand. And so they had began training her to use both her's and Harry's wand. Training her in magic, training her to save the world.

"Could life be any better?" Megan mumbled sarcastically to herself as she came out of her revere. "Oh, I know! The fact that everybody here hates me makes everything absolutely fabulous!" Most of them tried to hide their feelings toward her behind strained smiles and eyes that never made direct contact. Others like Ron made no effort to try and mask their contempt for her. At least they were honest. She hated the awkward silence that fell over a room when she entered. At least Ron had the guts to glare at her instead of trying to act like nothing was wrong.

There was a quiet knock at the door.

"Come in."

Hermione stuck her head through the door. Her eyes were sad and heavy with pain. From what Megan could tell, she had been very close to Harry.

"Time for dinner." Her head disappeared. Megan took a deep breath and followed her out the door and down the stairs. The brown hair in front of her bounced as Hermione walked. She stared listlessly

Ever since she had broken down on that London Street long ago Megan had kept nothing from these people, these strangers. Nothing…except that every since that tragic day that had started it all, there had been a voice whispering in her head. A voice saying things that scared her. A voice that never left her alone. A voice that threatened to get louder. A voice she desperately pushed away. A voice that sounded very familiar.

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GASP!

readers stand in shock She killed Harry!!

Or did I? Hmm... Stick around to find out!