In a different dimension, one very different Harriet Lily Potter gave up after the Final Battle at Hogwarts, and threw herself into the Veil. In another dimension one Harry James Potter watched as a scarily familiar girl slammed face-first into his Godfather, forcing him down and out of the way of Bellatrix Lestrange's spell. Fem!Harry meets Harry.
Harriet didn't hate her life; it was just that she had never particularly loved it. Her childhood wasn't what many of her peers believed it to be, (They apparently thought she was some kind of pampered little princess) but it could have been so much worse.
Even if she hadn't seen the retch of a woman for a better part of the year, she could still envision her Aunt Petunia's high, banshee-esque voice, "Don't ask questions! The perfect wife must be seen and not heard!" Harriet always thought this was ironic, as Petunia could be heard from miles away, even when the woman was attempting to whisper.
As she was to be a "perfect wife" Harriet was also taught how to cook, clean, and "most important of all" keep up a pretense of beauty. This last "skill", as Petunia so-endearingly called it, was something that Harriet was told she was particularly lacking in. When this point was brought up to the red-haired girl by her aunt she would always take solace in the fact that at least SHE didn't look like a giraffe with eye problems. 'You might want to get that squint looked at by the eye doctor, dear aunt of mine!'
Of course, Harriet never expressed these opinions. Yet... We're getting off track here.
Harriet, on occasion, even liked her life.
Disregarding the many attempts of the megalomaniac Moldyshorts on it, she had fun times with her friends. That's why as she watched what was left of her friends and family bury those they loved, (Fred, Remus, Nymphadora, Neville, Ginny, Colin Creevey, and even that awful Lavender Brown girl) she couldn't watch as they celebrated their own survival.
She just couldn't watch as George, (Oh, George.) seemed to die along with his twin and his younger siblings. He wouldn't look at her.
Even Ron and Hermione were gone.
Voldemort had taken them out first, as she lay in Hagrid's arms after her brush with Death.
Harriet still hadn't comprehended their deaths; she still didn't believe it. Quick and painless, she was told. Their deaths were, "...mercifully quick and painless. Especially for it to have been done by You-Know-Who." Harriet succinctly replied to the speaker's optimism (because in her haze, she neither cared nor was she able to really perceive who was speaking.) "They're still dead," before retreating again into her thoughts and her observations of the remaining student-body.
It made her sick to her stomach to see those that smiled at one another, so bloody happy to be alive when everyone else was dead. 'I'd rather have died, Dumbledore.' She thought back to the choice she made in that imaginary (or was it?) train station. With a loud "Pop" and a twist of her body, she was gone.
Far away, in what was left of the Department of Mysteries, Harriet reappeared. She remained standing in front of the Veil for what felt like hours, but must've only been minutes.
Her hazel eyes studied it, watching the ripples that disturbed its surface. "Sirius…" She paused, and the Elder wand that she'd been unknowingly gripping the whole time was slipped into a holster on her arm, along with her newly repaired Rowan and Phoenix Feather wand. Patting the holster again absentmindedly, her attention was drawn to her charmed silver bracelet, something that Hermione had charmed to hold not only her trunk but whatever else Harriet had deliberately touched to its surface.
The Resurrection Stone and her father's Invisibility Cloak store back at her in little metal charms that would change back to their original forms, if she, and only she, willed them to do so. Mentally, she shrugged. 'Why leave them here?' She turned her back to the Veil, and allowed herself to take one last long glance around at the remains of her life.
One moment she was there, and the in next, a larger ripple than usual was the only proof of her departure.
I had to fix some of the spelling, spacing issues, and plot issues I had the first time. I'm still not sure if this looks alright, but ehhh.
I abuse commas sooo much, I can't even explain.