Earth, fire, wind, and water; the elements of the world spun around until it was almost impossible to tell where Earth began and sky ended. At the center of this apocalypse was the Dark Lord himself; ensconced in one of the only calm areas on the planet. His maniacal laughed was magnified ten thousand times its natural volume and it echoed to the farthest edge of the Earth. Voldemort had found the ancient spell for this calamity; but for its true power to be realized the spell had to be used at the highest point of the earth. Now Harry Potter and a select group of wizards were climbing the treacherous slopes of Mount Everest in a desperate attempt to stop the Darkest Wizard before the spell reached its dreadful climax in the destruction of all mankind forever, changing them into mindless slaves, unwilling minions of one of the world's most evil men.
As soon as information had been intercepted about the possibility of Voldemort finding the Apocalypse Spell seven hundred of the world's most powerful wielders of the light had gathered together in Egypt in a desperate race against time. That meeting had come to be known as the Gaza Convention and it was the meeting that would either save the world or condemn it. After seven days of frantic spellcasting Hermione Granger had burst into the secure council chamber shouting that she had found the answer. Although she was one of the most prominent scholars in the world, she simply did not have the magical strength to be included in the seven hundred. Nonetheless she had continued her obsessive search finally finding what the rest could not. Hermione had to be dragged out of the council chamber; she left kicking and screaming. None one wanted her to suffer what was about to befall. The spell dictated that one person had to be imbued with the power of the spell, leaving it to be set free by a simple keyword. It was not enough to only kill the user of the Apocalypse; the storm itself had to be destroyed. If the wielder of the Spell of Destruction was killed before the storm was controlled, the end of the world would be brought about in a massive fireball, killing everything.
Harry had been the obvious choice to be selected; as the one Voldemort hated the most he was the one that Voldemort would be most likely to try and torture, therefore giving Harry the chance to utter the codeword. Around Harry gathered the six hundred ninety-nine wizards. Chanting the incantation, their power flowed from them into Harry, first as small trickles than as raging fountains of light. Harry was lifted clear of the floor by the power he was absorbing. The spell stated that the one who channeled the power of all those wizards would be inevitably consumed by the massive energies flowing through him. Harry knew and accepted this fact. After the completion of the Imbuing Ritual all six hundred ninety-nine wizards were completely drained of their magic, never to use it again. Harry departed and found twenty loyal wizards in England; these twenty set forth on a world spanning journey to find and kill Voldemort.
The Apocalypse had happed before they found him, now they were battling their way up the slopes of Everest, fighting off Death Eaters and found creatures of the Dark Side. Finally they reached the top, their numbers depleted down to three loyal fighters. Harry caught sight of the Dark Lord, laughing on his high perch; there was no mistake Harry pointed his wand at the lone figure, preparing to say the word that would kill both of them. The three at his back turned with him, prepared to fight to the end. Harry ordered them to leave; they refused. Harry knew that in seconds they would die and tried to get them to leave. They did not. All three went down, fighting to the bitter end. Before they fell they managed to destroy every Death Eater in the conflict, leaving Harry a clear shot. He said the word. A massive force wave poured through him, slamming into the Dark Lord. The Apocalypse was stemmed, its mighty power fighting against the strength of Harry's spell. Harry could feel his body burning up from the inside; his cells crumbling; his organs failing. He knew that he must hold on, not give in to death before the dreadful dead was done. Finally it was finished. Voldemort's black body collapsed on the no longer frozen ground, once so powerful and commanding in life, now helpless and small in death. Harry also fell, landing on his back, staring up at the now calm sky. He was at peace. He had done it. Safety had been secured for all. For Hermione, for Ginny, for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, even for the Dursleys. For Ron. No, not Ron; Ron had stayed with Harry until the end; Ron had been the last of the twenty standing. Harry had a brief moment of grief for his friends; they would miss Ron. Not Harry though. Harry would soon be joining him. He smiled.