DISCLAIMER: I do not own any material that has been used in the creation of the movie adaption series or book series, Harry Potter. All rights are reserved to J.K. Rowling for making my childhood a great existence. The only thing that I have rights to is the story of Death's Daughter, and the plot that does not follow directly with the movie/book lines. This story will be suited to the movies as opposed to the books, mainly because there is so many details in the book that I would rather be able to portray myself, so the movie gives me a bit more freedom.

DISARM DAUGHTER

PROLOGUE

DEATH BORE A DAUGHTER. It was a conflicting tale, one of which was told on the darkest of days to children that believed they could understand the world without their parent's supporting hand. It wasn't there to pose a place of hope in hearts as a fairy tale, but as a nightmare to those that didn't understand the world that they were inhabiting. It was told to bestow fear. It was told to children to assure that they understood the dangers of the world that they would grow up to exist in; and, eventually, by the time they reached the age where they could understand that the tale was not just a bedtime story, their lives had drastically changed into an intolerable sea of questions. Those that knew who the exquisite woman was, the ones that had been raised into a plagued terror that kept them awake at night, understood the gravity that love had. Those children understood the ways in which Death manipulated his daughter, controlled her, and filled her to the brink of her being with all of the desires she needed to breathe except the essential: Death, as vicious of a creation he was, did not give his daughter a heart.

On her sixteenth year of existence, the young woman asked for the very thing that she had seen resting in the chests of mortals. A heart, so fragile in fixture, was the one piece that had kept Death's Daughter his own divine foundation. Had she been given a heart, the woman would be greeted into the living with a beating inside of her body that he could not control. He would lose her, and the selfish being that he be, Death could not allow such a thing. The daughter eventually grew restless, the black void left inside of her beginning to consume all that she was, for Death's Daughter was not strong like her father. While there was nothing to grip onto with Death, his daughter had been unsheltered from emotions. His daughter, the delicate piece of art that she was, watched those that lived among a world happiness with envy. Piece by piece, the more that Death's Daughter watched, the more emotions she began to feel. Without knowledge, the young woman was growing her own heart from the love other people shared for one another.

Death's Daughter felt joy for the very first time when a new mother caressed her son's face with such adoration in her eyes. She felt grief for the very first time upon watching an elderly father say goodbye to his daughter right before Death consumed his soul, a woman that had forced herself to contain the tears that were in desperation to fall from her face. She felt envy for the very first time when her naive eyes caught sight of a man bending down on one knee, saying the words to a woman in front of him that stared ahead as if he were her entire world. She felt passion when she watched a boy, no older than her own self, aspire his biggest dreams with no fear of the world that may be out there to face him. She felt happiness. She felt lust. She felt disappointment. She felt anger. She felt doubt. She felt every human emotion that someone would face in their life, all but one: love. She had seen it, but she wondered why she could not feel it. That single emotion had been what she craved since the beginning, and it was the one thing holding her back from facing humanity, facing Life, with open arms.

And, at once, she found it. Ignotus Peverell was one of the few that believed his wisdom could play a force against her father. The man, along with his two other brothers, had forged a way across the bridge that had been created for the sole purpose of luring unwilling participants to a cruel demise— a trap, one might say, that had always gone in Death's favor until the night that Death, and his daughter, had been exposed to a world of beyond the belief of plain humanity. With the use of magic, the obstacle that had been created for no victory gained three victors. Her father, a man of great power, felt as if he had been cheated by the Peverell brothers. Death's Daughter, a woman that had finally seen what deception looked like, knew that her father was not to be trusted when he was wronged. That, along with his mistreatment of her existence, was the very reason she went against Death's demands and escorted the youngest and the wisest Peverell to a gift much greater than the other two requested. While the eldest riveted in power and the utmost control that a wand constructed to hold the darkest of magic, and while the middle Peverell let himself fall into a sleepless plan to resurrect the only woman that ever captured his heart, Ignotus Peverell had wished for something much smaller in power, but so much larger in wisdom.

The Deathly Hallows had been fashioned on the eve of that dark night, creating three of the most deadly weapons that one could possess at a single time. Death's Daughter followed the three, much like her father, hidden in the darkness of the days and hours. The more that she watched, the stronger that she felt towards the youngest Peverell because, while her father, so haunted in his own demise, could not find the man, his daughter was effortless in her unaided journey. Eventually, the wish that Death refused to grant her for so many years had been given, not by magic or by a man that could never love himself, but by her own doing. Death's Daughter had produced her own heart by the raw and beautiful emotion she felt for a man that her father could never stand, and thus had begun the tragedy that the exquisite woman faced.

Death had caught up to the other two Peverell brothers, much like predicted. Antioch Peverell grew ruthless in the authority he had been given from his conquering fate of Death, the Elder Wand forging into a weapon used against his life no matter the hold he had on it. The brute arrogance that he carried on his shoulders was the ending to his tale, and Antioch Peverell had found himself alongside Death in a world where magic as a shield was but a hope. Cadmus Peverell was a man that never truly got over his heart, something that he found himself settling on common ground with Death's Daughter. However, Cadmus had let his intentions of love get the better of him, believing that he could change the balance of those that have died and those that continue to breathe; and, even though he had been reunited with the first woman he ever gave his heart to, there was a veil between them that Cadmus could not separate. While he could see her, and while he could hear her, the man could not watch as she drove him mad with the cold life that she shouldered his way. The broken organ that had split down the middle was the ending to his tale, and Cadmus Peverell had found himself alongside Death in a world where he could finally be with the woman he gave up his life for.

Ignotus Peverell was the last of the brothers to part from the world, and while his death had been handed over by his own understanding will, the fate that he decided was not the tragedy in the story. The woman that he began a loving existence with, the woman that he bore a child of his own with, was the one that had been truly deceived by her father. Death's Daughter believed that she could escape her father's persistent plot for revenge against the daughter that disobeyed his plans and left him to live alone, all for a man that had wronged him. That, however, had not been the case.

The heart that she had been so eager to receive had become her own undoing, and sentenced her to an eternity of suffering. Death's Daughter was given the one thing that she had before she entered the world of mortality— a never-ending continuation of time. While that had not seemed terrible upon first glance, it became clearer the moment they understood that Death's Daughter was forced to live an eternity with a heart that was irreparably broken the moment her father took the love of her life, and everyone in her bloodline soon after when their time came. The woman was cursed to watch in a dark shadow of existence as everyone she ever loved was taken away by Death, each of them following the same fate of allowing their heart to bleed for a love that would always leave.

The ultimate moral of the tragic tale was to ensure that young children today remained understanding of the consequences that came with love, and while it was assured that the story of Death's Daughter was nothing more than a bedtime read, they had not realized that there still remained a descendant of the Peverell line that carried the malediction name. A daughter, so eccentric and beautiful in her simple way, was born on the Eve of Christmas Day. A daughter, so conniving and controlling, was raised into a world of wizardry, her mother and father both possessing the power of magic. A daughter, so lonely and cruel, was cursed from the moment she let out a single breath to fall madly in love with someone that could never have enough of himself to return it. A daughter, so powerful and bruised, was introduced into the world with the title of Maisie Peverell.

"Slytherin!"

Welcome to another story where I introduce you to my inability to control my emotions, thus creating a fanfiction that will inevitably ruin my life with never-ending feels. Some of you might remember this story, except it had a different name and my writing was preschool work at it's finest hour. Naturally, Death was just a metaphor created for the story of the Deathly Hallows, unless it's something that you think actually happened which I wouldn't hold you against. For those of you that need the background beneath a metaphor, it's basically about a woman who grew up unloved by her father, which meant that she never really understood how to love. He was a powerful wizard, one that had always wanted to keep his daughter by his side because he knew that his traits of magic would soon be passed down to her. However, his daughter was curious and began to see more of the world, and eventually stumbled upon Ignotus Peverell. The two of them fell in love, had a child, and her father detested the idea of his daughter having happiness so he put a curse on her name and anyone who carried the Peverell name. That's basically the short, non-metaphorical version of the story. I, personally, think that believing Death is real and actually had a daughter makes the situation a lot more realistic.

I hope that you guys enjoy this story. It took me forever to make sure that the prologue was right, given that Maisie's entire life is holed around the Peverell family. Cara Delevingne is cast as the faceclaim for Maisie, mainly because there is something about Cara that can easily be perceived as mischievous and, well, Slytherin. I can't wait to start writing more, and I'm holding out on you guys thinking I did an acceptable job at justifying the story behind Death's Daughter. Much love!