The Last Peverell

Chapter 1

I promised you guys a story in December...and here it is! This is the start of a really long project. I started this for NaNoRiMo and it is currently 50,100 words and 14 chapters long so far. So, I'm happy to bring you all another lovely Fem/Harry story. It's going to be very different from the Marauder's Heir (if you've read that). Enjoy!

It had happened again. Wizarding Europe had destroyed itself, for the ninth time in a row. The air was crisp, the leaves were a beautiful red as autumn set in as they fluttered around the sidewalks. Harriet Potter sat slumped on a park bench, her dark hair short and disheveled, sticking up in the all the wrong places. There was a clear splatter of blood on her pale blue blouse, her breathing coming out in short labored huffs. She had spent her entire life trying to save the wizarding world from itself and it had still amounted to nothing, again.

Muggles passed by without even a glance in her direction. Notice-me-not charms had their perks and Harriet was enjoying every second of it because she knew He was coming to talk to her and she honestly didn't feel like putting up with her partner. At twenty-five she shouldn't have fought through two different wars, only to be brought into a third one. And, she hated dealing with Him...

Especially when she was slowly bleeding out.

He was going to be very...disappointed, again.

Asshole.

Regardless, she felt a presence next to her, she forced her eyes open and saw the hooded deity she most dreaded meeting today, Death.

"You didn't stop it from happening," Death's voice echoed ominously, at least that's what Harriet assumed he was going for. His voice was more grating than eerie to her at this point. Nine lives spent dealing with Death tended to do that to a person.

"Not like you helped. I saved everyone I could, but multiple megalomaniac Dark Lords within less than fifty years of each other really ruined any chance of repopulating," she ground out through clenched teeth. She was nearly positive that one, if not multiple, of her organs was shutting down.

"I thought you would have gotten it right this time. This was your ninth attempt at saving your magical world," he replied, either not picking up on her sarcasm or he was just choosing to ignore her.

Ninth time going through the same life, making small changes here and there to make the best outcome possible for the future, trying to preserve the wizarding race. It was proving impossible. There just wasn't enough time. "You know, there's a saying that if you do the same thing over and over and expect a different result, you're insane. I'm beginning to believe that they're right."

There was a sigh from the deity next to her. He was just as tired of this as she was. There were only so many times that he could send her back into the past in hopes of keeping magic in Europe alive. Harriet was just born too late into this mess for anything to come out of it. This had proven it. No matter what she changed, no one would take the words of a child all that seriously and by the time she was old enough, wizarding Europe would be too far inbred to stop their imminent destruction.

"I really thought that you had it this time. The laws you had set in motion should have worked."

She groaned, feeling the stab wound in her side throb. She wasn't going to live much longer. "There just isn't enough time. If the laws had been passed forty years earlier yes, but there just aren't enough magically strong enough individuals to repopulate the gifts that were lost."

Death turns to her, his soulless eyes boring into hers and for a moment Harriet swears she sees something akin to excitement in them.

"Time...you need more time."