Harry was running through the darkness, leaping over fallen trees and dodging exposed roots as he went. Every now and then he would stumble and almost fall, but he forged on regardless. He knew that tonight, for a few minutes, Voldemort would be vulnerable as he completed a ritual which would increase his power tenfold. This would be Harry's last chance to stop The Dark Lord and he was not going to miss it because of a bloody tree.
As he ran deeper into the woods the trees seemed to be closing in on him, obscuring what little light was seeping through the thick cloud cover until he was navigating only by the light emanating from the tip of his wand. And then, just as it seemed as though the world would swallow even that light, he was through the trees and in a wide clearing. Harry looked around, quickly taking stock of the situation. He was alone, and it seemed that he had even managed to beat Voldemort here.
"All the better," he said to no one in particular, and made to hide himself.
Mere moments after Harry found and occupied a convenient bush, Voldemort silently apparated into the middle of the clearing. He was joined within seconds by his noisier minions who immediately set about preparing the area for the rite. A tall man, face hidden by his mask removed the spare brush and grass so that only the bare dirt remained while a squat man who could only be described as "dwarf-like" ran from corner to corner of the circle of trees taking measurements of some sort.
When their preparations were finally complete Voldemort waved his wand and whispered a spell that Harry couldn't hear from his hiding spot. A large stone altar, inscribed with delicate runes that seemed to move of their own accord raised from the ground in front of Voldemort. This was the part Harry had been dreading. He knew that the ritual would render Voldemort completely comatose for almost three and a half minutes, and that it was during this time that he would have to act. There was simply no way for him to take on all the Death Eaters present in addition to The Dark Lord. Unfortunately that meant sitting and watching the sacrifice that the ritual required.
Harry had been wrestling with his conscience ever since he had formulated his plan to interrupt this midnight gathering. He knew that the poor soul that was chosen to give up their life for Voldemort would die and he had entertained the idea of saving them. Eventually though, cold logic had won out and Harry had decided that the individual would be making a necessary sacrifice. Besides, it would probably just be a Death Eater who had angered Voldemort in some way, and Harry was fine with that.
So intensely had he been concentrating on the scene in the clearing that Harry had failed to notice the slight rustling noise coming from behind him, and by the time he did it was too late to do anything but turn as two figures appeared from the surrounding gloom. Harry raised his wand and was about to blow his cover by blasting the intruders backward, hopefully into a sturdy tree and not some saplings, when he got a good look at the grinning face of one of his joiners.
"Ron! What the bloody hell are you doing here?" Harry whispered in a sharp tone as his best friend's face resolved itself.
"We thought you might want some help. We're behind you Harry, we want to see this through as much as you do." said the other figure, who turned out to be Hermione.
Harry couldn't believe it. His friends had somehow found out about his suicide mission and volunteered to go along with him, even knowing how it would probably end. So overcome by emotions was he that all Harry could muster was to gulp, "Thanks, guys."
Ron and Hermione just grinned back. Suddenly all of Harry's doubts about the insanity of his task evaporated. He knew that together the three friends could overcome this challenge, as they had countless others. So it was with a heart full of hope that Harry pressed a finger to his lips and motioned for them to join him in watching the proceedings in the clearing that were nearing a climax.
The Death Eaters were chanting in unison now, their voices rising to fill the air around them. Harry felt confined, like the whole world was closing in on him, but he knew it was just a trick, that he had to keep his composure.
Ron noticed his discomfit, placed a hand on his back, and whispered, "C'mon mate, I know you can do this. You have to."
Harry nodded and steeled himself to watch what was to come next. With an audible popping noise, the sacrifice appeared on the altar, completely passed out. She was badly bruised and appeared to be bleeding profusely from her forehead, obscuring her face to the point that she was unrecognizable. But something didn't seem right to Harry, something about her seemed too familiar. Something about the tattered red hair that was a shambles on her head. The red hair. Ginny!
In that moment Harry's reasoning broke down, the sacrifice was no longer some anonymous soul, this was personal. Harry gripped his wand firmly and prepared to leap into the clearing and attempt a rescue. Just before he took the plunge though, Ron, having realized the victim's identity for himself, stood straight up and shoved his way through the sheltering bush and into the clearing.
"Oi! Prick! That's my sister you've got th-" was all he managed to say before the apparently unconscious Ginny leapt up from the table.
Ron had been running towards the altar, a fiery look in his eyes, and he made it about ten feet before Ginny's form started to ripple and she threw her head back and cackled. His sister's skin seemed to boil as it changed and reformed into the visage of Bellatrix Lestrange, smiling madly. Her wand appeared seeming out of thin air and she screeched, "AVADA KADAVRA!"
Ron was hit with a blast of green light and fell backward, limp as a rag doll. It was at this point that Harry and Hermione simultaneously yelled, "No!" and sprinted into the clearing to join Ron's already cooling body.
Hermione was immediately hit with another killing curse from Bellatrix who was laughing like she had never had so much fun in her life. Harry's head filled with rage and he bellowed loudly as he charged the woman who had just killed his two oldest and best friends in the world.
The crowd of Death Eaters just stood and watched silently until Harry got within a few yards of the altar before Voldemort cried, "Enough of these games!" and pointed his wand at Harry, freezing him in place.
"Mr. Potter, we have been expecting you." came Voldemort's hissing voice, "Although your friends were an unexpected bonus, though not unwelcome." His lipless mouth twisted to form what some might call a smile, and Harry winced. "Now I have a very special surprise in store for you tonight. I knew you wouldn't be able to resist coming once you heard the rumor that I would be vulnerable for the most minuscule of times. Even though it was such an obvious lie."
Harry's heart sank at this. He had been so sure that tonight would be his chance to finally put an end to Voldemort. Now it appeared that it was his life that would be coming to an end.
Voldemort's expression appeared to brighten, though it was hard to tell, and he nodded to Bellatrix who just giggled madly in reply. He then turned back to Harry and said, "You're probably wondering why you're still alive. The truth is that Bellatrix here had a wonderful idea on how to make your last moments your own private hell."
At that, Bellatrix pointed her wand at the altar, and on it's surface appeared the person she had minutes ago been disguised as. The real Ginny. The poor girl looked to be in worse condition than the fake one had been and was this time certainly unconscious.
"Look at her, Potter. She is beaten, she has given up all hope. I wanted this to be the last thing you see before you die." Voldemort rasped.
Harry still could not move, tears welled in his eyes and ran down his face. He knew it was over. There was no point in resisting.
Voldemort's ghastly smile intensified and he looked Harry straight in the eyes and said, "Perhaps I will keep her alive indefinitely, so she will never be able to join you in the next world. Avada Kedavra!"
Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, died in an instant. It was completely painless but the extreme sadness and heartache of the moment seemed to last forever. As his lifeless form fell to the forest floor the Death Eaters cheered raucously and sent multiple Dark Marks high into the sky. Wizards across the country saw the marks and despaired that all was lost. Voldemort permitted his followers to yell themselves hoarse and then raised his wand and added his own Mark to the flock already hovering overhead.
Finally, as the howls of the victorious Death Eaters faded into the night, a lone figure stepped boldly from a vantage point opposite of the late Harry Potter's. The man wore a leather jacket over a dirty white shirt that was coming open around the neckline from exertion. He was armed with just a revolver, holstered on his hip, and a bullwhip which he held in his right hand. He looked as though he hadn't shaved for days, and atop his head was perched a distinctive, brown hat.
In a clearly American accent he addressed Lord Voldemort, "I've come to take back what you stole, snakeface, and I'm not leaving until I get it. That wand belongs in a museum!"
The Dark Lord was for once at a complete loss for words so he just raised his wand, which he had stolen from an Egyptian tomb years before, and hissed, "Avada Kada-" And that was all he had time to say.
The stranger's hand was quicker on the draw than even Voldemort's and his pistol was out of its holster and a bullet headed toward The Dark Lord almost immediately. The lead hit square in Voldemort's chest, knocking the wind out of him and stopping his curse in its tracks. It was thereafter followed by another shot to the head and Voldemort collapsed, dead.
The stranger then turned his attention to the Death Eaters who were now regaining their composure enough to pose a threat. He just smiled and waded into the mass of them, fists, whip, and pistol working furiously. Wands were snatched away with a CR-ACK and faces were pounded in with more strength than it looked like the man should be capable of. Even Bellatrix fell relatively quickly, having no way to combat this man's strange combat technique. It seemed as though he was just making it up as he went, making his movements unpredictable.
When it was all over the Death Eaters lay in a bleeding pile all around the altar. The archaeologist just smiled, satisfied, and walked over to Voldemort's corpse. He plucked the wand out of the now very cold hands and pulled his jacket a little closer to his body. It was downright chilly out tonight. And with that thought, he walked off into the woods, the way he came.
EPILOGUE: Ginny awoke hours later and looked all around her. Her former captors lay battered and bloody and the ground, still moaning from the pain of it all. She clumsily slipped off the altar, still weak from her ordeal. When her eyes finally found Voldemort's body, she noticed it had several holes from which large amounts of blood looked to have poured. Her father was an expert in muggle technology and if she wasn't mistaken those looked like bullet holes in the man that had brought the wizarding world to its knees. She looked up at the sky and wondered to herself, "Why didn't anyone try this before?"