I'M SO, SO, SORRY BUT I DECIDED TO CHANGE THIS STORY ONCE AGAIN BECAUSE, TO BE HONEST, I WAS RATHER OUT OF INSPIRATION FOR IT (OR RATHER, I KNEW WHERE I WANTED TO GO WITH THIS STORY BUT I LOST THE WILL TO ACTUALLY WRITE IT). HOWEVER, I WAS WATCHING LEGACIES AND THIS IDEA CAME TO ME. HOPE YOU LIKE IT ANYWAY. ALSO, PLEASE READ MY NOTE, I WRITE THEM FOR A REASON.

Okay so, this story's idea came to me thanks to Hope Mikaelson which, if someone who hasn't watched the Originals doesn't know, is a tribrid, meaning a hybrid from three different species, a witch, werewolf and vampire. So, it got me thinking. Would it be possible to become a tribrid in the 'traditional' method? Hope is born into it but maybe there's a way to be turned into one. This story is the result of this idea. Also, this story is now a crossover with Harry Potter and the protagonist will be a Female Harry Potter. The couple will be FemHarry/Damon. Also, FemHarry will, in a way, replace Bonnie Bennett as the witch of the story and Elena's best friend.

Also, I don't want to reveal too much but since this was in the original story, I'm going to explain it in the note here as well so there's no confusion. The Bennett witches won't look like they do in the TV show. In fact, in this story they will be white and all of them, FemHarry included, will have red hair. Emily Bennett looks like Eleanor Tomlinson and Sheila Bennett looks like Frances Fisher. Also, Bonnie Bennett will appear at one point but she will be more similar to the one from the books (at least in looks). In fact, she will look like Madelaine Petsch. FemHarry – whose name is Blair Fell in the story – will have flaming red hair and green eyes (like Lily). I imagine her having Barbara Palvin's face (but obviously with red hair and green eyes) but with a curvier body like Alexandra Daddario.

The Bennetts and the Gilberts are related in this story. Unlike the original version of this story, FemHarry/Blair and Elena won't be secretly sisters but they will still be cousins. Sheila Bennett was the second wife of John and Grayson Gilbert's father. Blair, in this story, will be the daughter of John and Grayson's half-sister, Abigail. Her father is called Charles Fell. I won't say anymore than that. Also, in this story Damon never met Elena before her parents' accident.

I hope you like this idea and read my story. And please Review, I want to know your opinions. Also, most part of this chapter is taken directly from chapter 33-34-35 of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Vampire Diaries, I just like to write stories about these characters. I don't make money by writing this story.

Prologue

…Tell her that on the night Lord Voldemort tried to kill her, a fragment of Voldemort's soul latched itself onto the only living soul left in that collapsed building…

…Part of Lord Voldemort lives inside Harry…

…While that fragment of soul remains attached to and protected by Harry, Lord Voldemort cannot die…

…the girl must die...

…And Voldemort himself must do it…

…The only way for him to die is if she embraces death herself…

…Voldemort must kill her for him to die too…

…Their lives are so tightly bound together that if she dies, he will die also…

…You have kept her alive so that she can die at the right moment?...

Harry understood at last that she was not supposed to survive. Her job was to walk calmly into Death's welcoming arms. Along the way, she was to dispose of Voldemort's remaining links to life, so that when at last she flung herself across Voldemort's path, and did not raise a wand to defend herself, the end would be clean, and the job that ought to have been done in Godric's Hollow would be finished. Neither would live, neither could survive.

Dumbledore's betrayal was almost nothing. Of course, there had been a bigger plan: Harry had simply been too foolish to see it, she realized that now. She had never questioned her own assumption that Dumbledore wanted her alive. Now she saw that her life span had always been determined by how long it took to eliminate all the Horcruxes. Dumbledore had passed the job of destroying them to her, and obediently she had continued to chip away at the bonds tying not only Voldemort, but herself, to life! How neat, how elegant, not to waste any more lives, but to give the dangerous task to the girl who had already been marked for slaughter, and whose death would not be a calamity, but another blow against Voldemort.

And Dumbledore had known that Harry would not duck out, that she would keep going to the end, even though it was her end, because he had taken the trouble to get to know her, hadn't he? Dumbledore knew, as Voldemort knew, that Harry would not let anyone else die for her now that she had discovered it was in her power to stop it.

It was for this very reason that she was there now. In front of Lord Voldemort, surrounded by Death Eaters, deep inside the Forbidden Forest. Ready to die just to see him dead too.

Harry could feel Voldemort's wand against her chest, but she made no attempt to draw hers. And still, Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and now Voldemort tilted his head a little to the side, considering the girl standing before him, and a singularly mirthless smile curled the lipless mouth.

"Harry Potter," he said very softly. His voice might have been part of the spitting fire. "The Girl Who Lived, come to die."

None of the Death Eaters moved. They were waiting: Everything was waiting.

At last Voldemort raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into his red eyes and smiled.

She saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone.

A second or a hundred years later, she found herself laying facedown, listening to the silence. She was perfectly alone. Nobody was watching. Nobody else was there. She was not perfectly sure that she was there herself.

A long time later, or maybe no time at all, it came to her that she must exist, must be more than disembodied thought, because she was lying, definitely lying, on some surface. Therefore, she had a sense of touch, and the thing against which she lay existed too.

Almost as soon as she had reached this conclusion, Harry became conscious that she was naked. Convinced as she was of her total solitude, this did not concern her, but it did intrigue her slightly. She wondered whether, as she could feel, she would be able to see. In opening them, she discovered that she had eyes.

She lay in a bright mist, though it was not like mist she had ever experienced before. Her surroundings were not hidden by cloudy vapor; rather the cloudy vapor had not yet formed into surroundings. The floor on which she lay seemed to be white, neither warm nor cold, but simply there, a flat, blank something on which to be.

She sat up. Her body appeared unscathed. She touched her face. She was still wearing her glasses.

She stood up, looking around. The longer she looked, the more there was to see. A great domed glass roof glittered high above her in sunlight. Perhaps it was a palace. All was hushed and still.

Harry turned slowly on the spot, and her surroundings seemed to invent themselves before her eyes. A wide-open space, bright and clean, a hall larger by far than the Great Hall, with that clear domed glass ceiling. It was quite empty. She was the only person there.

Suddenly, from nowhere mist appeared before her, slowly taking the form of a mirror. She closed the short distance to it and looked at her reflection. Expect that it wasn't exactly her reflection that she was seeing in front of her eyes. Yes, the girl she could see in the mirror looked a lot like her but she was slightly younger, taller, healthier and more beautiful that she could ever hope to be. The skin of the girl in the mirror was not sickly pale but creamy white and perfect, not one single old scar marred her unblemished skin. Her green eyes were bright and full of life and not hidden by glasses. Her flaming red hair reached her midback and were slightly curled but not messy like hers were. There was no lightning bolt-shaped scar on her forehead. She was lean and toned but with curves in all the right places. It was perfectly clear that this girl in front of her had not seen abused or neglect. This version of her was how she could have been if she had lived not with the Dursleys but in a real home, with a real family.

She suddenly realized how much Voldemort and Dumbledore both had taken away from her. She had been an innocent caught up in a war between two very powerful wizards, just a pawn in their game.

And now she was dead. Never to live again, or really – live for the first time – because, truthfully she had not lived at all. Everything was over. For her at least. And no matter how much she tried to convince herself that Voldemort had died with her and the Wizarding World was finally free, she could not help but think of how much she had truly lost.

She wanted a second chance at life. She wanted to live again, have a family, find love, be happy, just like every other person, was that too much to ask?

She looked at the reflection once again, noticing the happy sparkle of the girl before her and sighed. She wanted to have the life of the happy, healthy girl in front of her. In a sudden decision she touched the mirror with her entire palm, almost hoping to merge herself with the image reflected before her.

And then she was falling, down, down, in a deep black abyss and she knew no more.