Disclaimer:

I do not own the amusement park that is Hogwarts, or the colorful characters J.K. Rowling has created. After careful consideration, I have decided to rework this story using Reptilia28's Don't Fear the Reaper challenge as a basis. This story will still feature a trans-feminine Harry and should be quite different from other DFtR stories. I hope you enjoy it.

#foreign language#, *parseltongue*, "spoken", 'thoughts', [telepathic messages]

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The Marauders' Daughter

Prologue

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

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Temporary Author's Note:

Hello everyone.

I know this isn't what most of you probably wanted to see. I can hear the groans of disappointment from here. After not updating for several months, this is what triggered your alerts. I get it, and I'm sorry. The reason I'm rewriting the story is because there were many things I haven't been happy with for quite some time. I haven't been sure how I've wanted to go about correcting it for months. Is this the right way to go about things? I honestly don't know. What I do know is that I plan to write new material interspaced between the familiar, so you won't have to wait until 'Lily' (Heather) confronts Snape in his office for new material.

The core story is the same. Most of what you remember from the original will be here as well.

(Saturday, May 2nd, 1998, Early Morning)

Harry Potter, a seventeen-year-old bespectacled young man with short, untamable black hair, emerald-green eyes and a lithe build, was walking through the Forbidden Forest to meet Voldemort. If he were feeling melodramatic, he would say he was walking towards his rendezvous with destiny. In reality, it was likely his doom. After briefly conversing with his parents, Sirius and Remus via the Resurrection Stone, he felt ready to join them in the afterlife. Tired of the senseless fighting, death and destruction, Harry was looking forward to a peaceful eternity with his family.

After watching Snape's memories, he had walked through the once lively castle in a daze while absently noting the senseless destruction Voldemort and his followers had caused. He'd been glad for the silence as anger and heartbreak waged war within his heart. Had Dumbledore even bothered to research other potential solutions for the horcrux within him, or had the barmy old man wanted his death from the beginning? Everything he had been through, the pain and torment he'd suffered most of his life, all of it could be traced back to Dumbledore and Voldemort.

'Raise me like a pig for slaughter, will you? I wish you were here old man, just so I could kill you myself,' Harry seethed as he continued his march towards the clearing. Clenching his fists in anger, he felt the love he'd once held for Dumbledore become corrupted with contempt and hatred. He couldn't help but wonder if he would be able to pull of an Avada Kedavra. It wasn't like the monsters he was planning to meet deserved any less and killing them might even help his friends back at the castle.

His friends…

Hermione, Ginny, Luna, Ron, Neville…

While he had only encountered Hermione and Ron before leaving the castle, he was thankful for the chance to say goodbye. The three of them had been through so much together over the years and he hoped with all the love he still possessed within his darkening heart that the two of them would be happy together. If only there was a way for him to make it easier.

Harry couldn't help but wonder how two people so diametrically opposed to one another could become a couple. They seemed to have little in common, other than their friendship with him, but he thought the two of them behaved more like siblings than lovers. The way they seemed to fight and insult one another constantly, it wasn't the friendly teasing and bickering he thought a romantic couple would engage in. Instead, it was often hurtful, like they couldn't stand one another most of the time.

Shaking his head to clear it, Harry continued towards the clearing where Voldemort was waiting. Stopping several minutes later to survey the area, he squinted in the gloom of the early morning dawn and noticed the elder Malfoys, Bellatrix and Voldemort simply standing around. None of them seemed to be on their guard. Since he apparently needed to die in order to destroy the last horcrux, at least according to Dumbledore, why not make the half-blood bastard suffer for it? He knew once he started flinging spells all bets were off, so he would need his opening salvo to cause as much damage as possible.

He stared at the Death Eaters in loathing as fury and hatred reignited the inferno within his heart. So much pain and suffering, not just his own, but countless innocents across the magical and non-magical worlds for years. So many lives that could have been spared had the previous generation done their job properly and finished Voldemort and his clowns. Instead, Albus Dumbledore and many within the Ministry had sat around doing nothing for years while he and his friends did all the work.

Sighting along his wand like a rifle scope, Harry locked onto Nagini's slithering form and whispered, "Avada Kedavra."

Within the clearing, Voldemort was standing apart from his Death Eaters with his eyes closed as he lovingly caressed the Elder Wand. He had truly believed Potter would come. Perhaps he had been wrong, and the boy didn't care about his friends as much as he'd thought. He knew he wouldn't be able to spare the remaining Hogwarts' defenders and retain his credibility, not after threatening to kill everyone if the boy failed to show. What a waste; so much magical blood spilt. Sighing softly, he opened his eyes only to see a familiar bolt of green energy lance out from the gloom and strike Nagini.

Pandemonium ensued.

As Nagini screamed in pain, Voldemort fell to his knees clutching his chest as another horcrux was destroyed. Having experienced similar sensations twice within the last hour, he couldn't help but wonder whether he had any anchors left. Fear began to overwhelm his senses, but he knew he needed to continue. He would not show weakness in front of his followers.

None of the Death Eaters had been prepared for an ambush. Since no one had seen where the killing curse had originated from, they were caught flatfooted when a second bolt of green energy lanced out from beyond the tree line and struck Bellatrix in the chest. The insane woman looked shocked for a split-second before collapsing as though her strings had been cut.

Screams of terror filled the air as the remaining Death Eaters fled for their lives. Some would later claim they were searching for their unseen assassin but in reality, they were trying to avoid being picked off and their master's wrath for failing to ensure no one could sneak up on him. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were among those who tried to flee at a more sedate pace. It would be unseemly for a Malfoy to panic like 'lesser' Death Eaters despite being terrified of the situation.

The Malfoys wouldn't live long enough to regret their arrogance as a bolt of reddish-orange energy lanced out from the forest and exploded violently at their feet, blasting bits of flesh, bone and blood in every direction. Where the Malfoys and several other Death Eaters had once been, now lay a smoking crater easily twenty feet across and several feet deep.

His vengeance temporarily sated, Harry casually stepped into the clearing and shouted, "Hey Tom! Did you miss me?"

Ignoring the chaos around him, Voldemort slowly rose to his feet and glared hatefully at the cheeky teenager.

Speaking softly and in a contemplative tone, the Dark Lord said, "Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. I wonder what Dumbledore would say if he knew his Golden Boy had gone Dark and murdered several people in cold blood. Tsk tsk, and with the killing curse no less."

"I really don't care what that senile, old fool would say," the last Potter spat venomously. "He's done nothing but lie and manipulate me from the very beginning."

"Indeed," Tom said pleasantly as he looked around only to notice the ruined landscape and his missing Death Eaters. "Still, there is the fact you murdered my familiar and poor Bellatrix, whom I was rather fond of. I'm afraid that I cannot allow that to go unpunished."

"I know," Harry conceded softly.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

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(Somewhere Unknown, Somewhen Unknown)

An indeterminable amount of time later, Harry slowly opened his eyes and noticed he was lying on the floor in what appeared to be a comfortable waiting room. Blinking in confusion, he slowly climbed to his feet before collapsing in a nearby chair. He felt exhausted, like every bit of magic had been drained from his body. Looking around, he noted several others sitting throughout the room, though none of them seemed to be paying attention or conversing with their neighbors.

One boy in particular seemed really anxious and kept twisting his hands as though he didn't know what to do with them. Looking closer, the last Potter recognized the teen and gasped in shock. The boy seemed to have heard him and looked up, recognition instantly flooding his dark brown eyes. Harry couldn't believe he was looking at the pre-Voldemort form of Tom Riddle. He couldn't see anything of the insane megalomaniac he'd known in the boy's eyes, only innocence and a yearning for friends and home.

"Potter, Harry J.?" a soft feminine voice called from the front of the room.

Harry turned towards the voice and gaped. Standing near an open doorway leading from the room was a familiar woman of average height with long red hair, bright emerald-green eyes and curves that would make a supermodel jealous. She appeared to be in her early twenties and was clad in a beautiful, dark forest-green evening gown and expensive black heels. Holding a clipboard in her arms, he noticed an exquisite, diamond and ruby ring adorning her left ring finger.

"Mum?"

The woman giggled softly and shook her head in the negative. "I'm sorry Harry, but despite appearances I am not your mother. My name is Heather, if you would please follow me."

Once they'd left the waiting room, Harry found his voice again and asked, "Where am I? The last thing I remember is facing Riddle in the Forbidden Forest."

The redhead nodded thoughtfully and replied, "You're in what we call The Waystation. It's a subsidiary of Death Inc. where we process the souls of the recently deceased and judge what sort of afterlife a person has earned during the course of their life. Your 'friend', Tom Riddle, has earned himself quite a nasty afterlife due to his actions, but that is neither here nor there as far as you're concerned."

"We killed one another…" Harry whispered as he recalled the last several minutes of his life.

"That you did, but that's a matter for your Reaper to discuss with you. Here we are," Heather said as she pointed towards a door with the name 'Morgana le Fey' emblazoned in gold lettering.

"Morgana le Fey? The infamous Black Witch of the British Isles is my Reaper?" the last Potter exclaimed in disbelief.

"She is indeed, Child of Black," the redhead replied softly.

"Child of Black? Sirius…" Harry trailed off as tears shimmered within his dull green eyes. It hadn't taken him long to realize he was dead even before his guide had informed him of where he was and what was going on. He vaguely remembered his godfather once telling him he had declared him his heir and that he had blood-adopted him as a child before that fateful Samhain night in 1981.

"Morgana is not a full time Reaper," the woman explained as she checked off Harry's name on her clipboard. "She only deals with Children of Black and should be just about finished with another Child of Black, Bellatrix Lestrange née Black."

"I hope that bitch burns for eternity," Harry snarled as he clenched his fists in anger.

"Harry James Potter! How could you say such a horrid thing about a member of your own family?" the redhead demanded hotly.

"She murdered my godfather!"

"Accidentally," Heather countered sternly before softening her tone. "Though, I can understand how you wouldn't know that." Seeing the confusion on her charge's face, she continued, "Bellatrix hadn't meant to kill Sirius during your fight in the Department of Mysteries. In fact, for a moment there, she had nearly broken free of Riddle's control. It was why she cast a stunner and not something worse. Unfortunately, Sirius had been standing too close to the Veil of Death at the time."

Harry lowered his eyes in shame as tears slipped down his cheeks. It was his fault, if only he hadn't been so stupid and impulsive. If he had just opened the package Sirius had sent him, he would've known his godfather was safe. He wouldn't have nearly led his friends to their deaths and Hermione wouldn't have taken a curse that had nearly killed her. Thankfully she and the others had survived.

"Harry James Potter!" a stern, feminine voice reminding him of McGonagall called from within the office. "Times wasting, so hurry up and get in here so we can get to work."

"You'd better go," Heather said before flashing him a beautiful and heartwarming smile. "Morgana can be pretty cranky early in the morning. Kind of like your friend Hermione, come to think of it."

Harry couldn't help himself and laughed as some of the tension he'd been feeling lifted from his shoulders. After thanking his guide, the last Potter turned towards the door and stepped through.

"Finally," Morgana growled as she glared at the young man walking into her office. Despite being several centuries old, she appeared to be in her early thirties. Her long, raven-black hair cascaded down her back and front, draping over her well-defined breasts while her ruby-red lips, dark blue eyes, pale skin and aristocratic features made for a beautiful woman. She was wearing an elegant, sleeveless black evening gown that only accentuated her feminine form.

Once her client was seated, the ancient witch continued in a frosty tone, "Now that you're here, again, perhaps you'd care to explain why you are dead, again, before completing your destiny like you were supposed to."

"What do you mean? Riddle's dead. I saw him in the waiting room," the last Potter protested wearily, tired of people demanding things from him all the time. He was at the point where he just wanted to move on and be with his family. While parts of his life had been enjoyable, mostly it had been little more than an exercise in frustration, pain and suffering.

"Defeating Riddle was only part of your destiny, young man," Morgana countered harshly. "It was only by sheer dumb luck his killing curse hit you, making him mortal, a split-second before yours hit him. Otherwise, he would've survived and free to continue terrorizing Britain while you would still be sitting here."

Pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation, the ravenette sighed and continued coldly, "Fine, since you seem to be a few neurons short of having an actual human brain, I'll spell it out for you." At Harry's indignant protest, she glowered at the boy and snarled, "You will sit there, shut up, and listen to what I have to say, got it?"

"Yes ma'am," Harry replied nervously.

"Good," Morgana snapped before taking a sip from a teacup that hadn't been there moments before. "As I was saying, defeating Riddle was only part of your destiny and you barely managed that. As far as the rest, such as getting together with your soulmate and living to centennial age, you've managed to fail brilliantly."

When her client didn't interrupt, the ancient witch smirked and continued in a softer tone, "You see Harry, while we Reapers are allowed to send people back, we can only do so a limited number of times. Normally, when we send someone back, we wipe their memories of the future. Because this is your final chance, I'll be allowed to bend the rules and let you retain your memories. Perhaps if you were to remember what you'd been through, you'll be able to avoid dying prematurely and complete your destiny."

"What happens if I fail?" Harry asked softly.

"I would be most displeased should that occur," Morgana growled in a menacing tone as she glared at her client. "To answer your question, your soul would be annihilated, meaning you'll simply cease to exist. Your failure would also leave a black mark on my record despite being a part-time Reaper. Not something I am particularly keen on happening, mind you."

"I see," the teenager whispered as his face lost all of its color.

"Do us both a favor," the Black witch demanded, her dark blue eyes glittering with malice. "Get with your soulmate, some Granger girl with an unusual first name, permanently defeat Riddle without getting yourself killed in the process and live to centennial age with your friends and loved ones. Do that, and I won't be cross with you when the time comes, Child of Black."

Taking another sip of her tea, Morgana could finally feel the calming effects of the warm, brown liquid begin to soothe her aggravation at having to suffer three Children of Black in such a short amount of time. Not only had she been genuinely upset seeing Harry so soon, but after dealing with a prideful Narcissa and the ever-flighty Bellatrix, her patience had all but evaporated before the boy even stepped into her office.

In the silence that followed, Harry looked around the office for the first time and noted the lack of furnishings within the small room. Other than Morgana's ancient oaken desk and the uncomfortable wooden chair he was sitting on, there wasn't much else in the room. There was a large filing cabinet along the same wall as the door leading to the rest of the complex. On the wall opposite the door, two enormous potted plants bracketed a large window overlooking several forested hills and a beautiful lake. It took him several moments to realize he was seeing the Black Lake and surrounding countryside from the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts.

"How can Hermione possibly be my soulmate? In all the years I've known her, she's never shown any romantic interest in me," Harry asked in confusion. Weren't soulmates supposed to be drawn to one another? For that matter, why hadn't he ever truly considered her in a romantic light? He had always treasured her friendship, but whenever he considered her as potential dating material his thoughts had always switched to someone or something else. Almost like a confundus charm or potion…

"Are you certain or were you simply too blind to see what was in front of you the whole time?" the ancient witch asked gently. "Now, I can agree Cho Chang and Ginevra Weasley are very pretty girls, but neither of them is your true other half, which is essentially what a soulmate is. A soulmate is someone who is perfectly matched to you and you her. Someone who will stand beside you and encourage you, care for you and love you for you, always."

Harry fell silent as he considered Morgana's words for several minutes, mentally replaying every important interaction between Hermione and himself he could remember. While there had been many moments between them over the years, only a few seemed to hint there could've been anything more. He couldn't help but smile as he recalled how he felt when Hermione had wrapped her arms around him while they'd flown together on Buckbeak at the end of their third year. Could that have been the sign he had unknowingly been waiting for since meeting the girl first year?

"You realize it now, don't you?" the Black witch asked gently with a soft smile on her face. "Buckbeak never would have allowed you and Hermione to ride him together unless you were soulmates."

"I remember her telling me once that Hippogriffs were a symbol of love. It was just before we returned to the Hospital Wing," the last Potter whispered in realization as a lone tear rolled down his cheek. "That was the sign wasn't it, and I missed it. She must have figured I didn't think of her that way and decided not to push in order to preserve our friendship. I've been such a fool; the best friend/girlfriend I could've ever asked for was beside me the whole time and I never noticed."

"To be honest, you weren't completely to blame for that," the ravenette said with a heavy sigh as she opened a drawer and removed a stack of parchment several centimeters thick. Placing the documents on her desk, she continued in a gentle tone, "You see Harry, Dumbledore wanted you weak, pliable and solely reliant upon him and his chosen sycophants for guidance. He purposefully left you with the Dursleys, knowing you would be mistreated, to keep you malleable and ignorant of your heritage. I'm actually surprised you didn't grow up to become another Tom Riddle with how you've been treated most of your life."

"That senile, demented, goat buggering old fool," Harry spat venomously as he clenched his fists in anger. "When I get my hands on him…"

Morgana leaned back in her chair and smirked as she listened to her client tear into his former headmaster. She raised an eyebrow at some of the teenager's more colorful suggestions before finally bringing their meeting back into focus. She still had a few things to cover, and time was running short.

Once he had calmed down, Harry mentally replayed their most recent conversation and asked, "If Hermione and I are soulmates, why did we never get together? Why did I get involved with Ginny and her Ron? Wouldn't we have been drawn to one another despite my naïveté and gotten together at some point?"

"That would be due to Dumbledore's interference and manipulations," the ancient witch replied. Holding up her hand in order to forestall another verbal explosion from her client, she continued, "Like I said before, Dumbledore needed you pliable and reliant on him. What do you suppose would've happened had you been romantically involved with Hermione? You would have looked to her for guidance. She would've ensured you made smarter choices and been less of a doormat. The old meddler enlisted Molly's assistance in keeping you under control while you stayed at The Burrow and during the summer when you were away from Hogwarts."

"The care packages…" the last Potter whispered in realization as his eyes began to shimmer with more unshed tears. Everything he thought he'd known, his friendship with the Weasleys, his relationship with Ginny, Dumbledore being a kind, old man and mentor, all of it, was nothing more than a carefully constructed façade, a lie. Why, so he would walk to his death and willingly sacrifice himself like a good little minion?

"While your relationship with Ginny hadn't been completely potion induced, it was helped along by Dumbledore, Molly and Ron," Morgana said gently. "During the summer between your third and fourth year, when both you and Hermione were staying at The Burrow, Molly began adding an Indifference Potion to your meals. As you might suspect, yours was keyed to Hermione and hers to you. She knew it would be suspicious if the two of you stopped being friends, but she wanted to ensure you two never got together. In later years, she started adding small amounts of lust potion in order to encourage you to think about a specific girl."

"Ginny," Harry interjected quietly in realization as several tears slipped down his cheeks. He had honestly considered Molly a surrogate mother, someone he could love since his own had died when he was a toddler. Knowing what he knew now, he knew there was no way he could ever consider her as such again now that he knew the truth. What he didn't know was whether his ex-girlfriend was aware of what her mother had done or not.

"I know what you want to ask," the ravenette said softly. "The answer is no; Ginny is innocent and had nothing to do with you being dosed. Don't get me wrong, she was ecstatic when you asked her out during your sixth year and the two of you started dating. She had grown up on stories of the Boy Who Lived and had dreamt of being with you for years. The two of you genuinely fell in love with one another, despite the nudge you initially received from Molly."

"Even if Hermione wasn't my soulmate, I don't think I could be with Ginny like that again," the last Potter said with a shake of his head. "Not with what I know now."

"Understandable," Morgana said. Grabbing the stack of parchment sitting on her desk, the ancient witch placed them in front of her client and said, "I need you to read and sign these forms. Then we'll discuss when you're going back. I have a few thoughts, but it's up to you. There's something else you should keep in mind. The further back you go, the more time you'll have to affect changes within the time stream, but your magical abilities will be less developed as well."

"So, returning to before Riddle killed my parents won't help because I wouldn't be able to warn them or do anything about it," Harry said.

"Correct."

As he read through the stack parchment Morgana had handed him, Harry contemplated when he might return and what changes he could implement. He never wanted to see the Dursleys again if he could help it, ruling out prior to receiving his Hogwarts letter. Not interested in dealing with a possessed Defense professor again eliminated first year. Summer between first and second year could work if he managed to intercept the diary horcrux Malfoy had slipped into Ginny's cauldron that day in Diagon Alley. Failure would mean having to suffer through Lockhart's ineptness and the Heir of Slytherin nonsense again though. Not something he was keen on reliving, which left the end of second year as the earliest he could return.

Coming to a decision, Harry nodded decisively and signed the contract before returning the stack of parchment to the older woman.

The ancient witch spent several minutes studying the contract before saying, "If you are certain then I shall not keep you."

"I am."

Morgana smiled knowingly and said, "Very well. Good luck, Child of Black."

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Author's Notes:

I hope you all have enjoyed this chapter. I want to thank everyone who has read this story so far and I hope I can retain your interest. Please read and review. Comments and criticism are welcome, I just ask you to be nice about it.

Publish Date: January 1st, 2023