Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: I don't usually write stuff like this, but I'm not in a good mood because I'm frustrated about something, and I needed to relieve myself of this frustration. So I decided to write a really, really morbid fan fic. But please review and let me know what you think. I love reviews.

A Fatal Miscalculation

By: ChoCedric

"Harry Potter is dead."

Voldemort's high, cold voice echoed through the castle. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and many other fighters for the light side stopped in their tracks, aghast.

"He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him," Voldemort continued mercilessly. "We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone. The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."

"Noooo!" screamed Ginny, falling to her knees. The love of her life could not be dead.

Ron and Hermione gripped her shoulders firmly, trying to talk sense into her. "He's lying," said Ron. "Harry can't be dead. He wouldn't have tried to run away."

Everyone started piling out of the Great Hall and walking to the great front doors, muttering amongst themselves. Ron and Hermione continued to hold on to Ginny as they all made their way together, praying to Merlin that their last hope wasn't gone. To be honest, Ron and Hermione were terrified. It was the kind of stupid, noble thing their best friend would do, to sacrifice himself so that no one else would get hurt, but didn't he have the sense to know that Voldemort was lying when he said that nobody else would be slaughtered if Harry died? He had proven he was lying just now, when he made his announcement!

"NO!"

The sudden, stricken yell of Professor McGonnagall let everyone know that Harry, their dear Harry, had sacrificed himself in vain. Then they saw their worst fear confirmed as Hagrid, weeping, carried Harry's lifeless body in his arms. "He gave 'imself up!" the half-giant roared, a smirking Voldemort standing close to him. "I saw it! I tried to stop 'im, but he didn't understand!"

"You see now?" snickered Voldemort. "Lay him down at my feet, Hagrid, where he has always belonged! He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"

"You fucking bastard!" Ginny screamed. "You killed him!"

"Shush, Ginny, I don't want another lost!" yelled Ron furiously. The war couldn't be ending this way! He wanted to pound Harry right now, to pummel him for giving up his life when he should have known better. Sacrifice was a huge, selfless act, but the terribly sad thing was that this time, it hadn't worked. Voldemort and his band of Death Eaters had won the war.

Ginny could do nothing but stare into Harry's blank, pointless green eyes, which were staring aimlessly at the night sky. They were so lifeless, and all the afternoons he and Ginny spent together the year before came rushing back to her.

Voldemort's mirthless laugh punctuated the air. "You deluded fools!" he snarled.

Neville came charging out of the crowd then, lunging at Voldemort. But there was a bang and a humungous flash of light, and he went toppling to the floor, disarmed.

"And who is this?" smirked the Dark Lord. "Who has decided to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"

Bellatrix crowed with glee. "It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord, the boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble," she screeched.

"Ah, so it is," said Voldemort. "Well, Neville Longbottom, you are a brave boy, are you not? You would make an excellent addition to my supporters."

"I'll join you when hell freezes over, you sonuvabitch!" Neville roared.

"Ah," said Voldemort quietly. "In that case, I will continue with my demonstration. There will be no more sorting at Hogwarts, Neville Longbottom. The house of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suit everyone, will it not?" With that, he threw the sorting hat on to Neville's head and set it aflame.

Ginny howled, tears streaming down her face as she watched her friend burn to death. Neville's grandmother, Augusta, tried to push through the crowd to get to her grandson, but she couldn't get there. Neville yowled as his clothes, his hair, his skin, burned to cinders. It was agonizing minutes later that the last cry of anguish left his mouth, and soon after that, all that was left of the brave, courageous Neville Longbottom was ash.

The Dark Lord celebrated, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. Without a second thought, he dangled Harry's corpse in the air. "See what the pointless death of your savior has amounted to?" he cackled. "Mr. Potter came to me, to have me end it."

"You're lying!" screamed Hermione, her eyes red and puffy. She was shaking with anger and grief from watching a good friend be viciously roasted to death.

"I am not lying, you filthy little mudblood," sneered Voldemort. "Your little friend ran into the forest to give up his life for you. Do you see now what his stupid decision cost you?" He threw Harry's body on the ground.

Ginny, not being able to handle anymore, surged through the crowd and threw herself onto Harry's body, a screaming, sobbing mass, holding on to her dead love for all she was worth. Voldemort bent over her, laughing hysterically at her grief. "You loooooved him, didn't you, ickle Weasley?" giggled Bellatrix as she stood by her master.

"HARRY, PLEASE WAKE UP!" Ginny wailed, punching every part of Harry that she could reach. "YOU BASTARD, LOOK WHAT YOU DID! YOU LOST US THE WAR! WHY DIDN'T YOU FIGHT? YOU COWARD! YOU COWARD! YOU COWARD!"

And that was the honest, cold truth. Harry's sacrifice, an act born of selflessness and love, had brought upon the wizarding world the worst conclusion possible. As Ginny lay on Harry's lifeless form, still howling out her agony, and Ron and Hermione rushed to bend over her, everyone knew that it was over.

Voldemort had won, and things would never be the same again.

xxx

And they never were. Ten years later, half-bloods and muggle-borns no longer used magic. Neither did the purebloods who were not supporters of the Dark Reign. They were locked up in Riddle Manor as slaves, and they did the bidding of Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Ginny was a slave to Ludovic Avery, and hideous, horrific things happened to her if she did not obey his command. Hermione was now reduced to obeying the whims of Lucius Malfoy, and Ron was now a servant to Theodore Nott. He, Hermione, Ginny, and some other light fighters had continued their resistance, because they didn't want to give up just because Harry was dead. But their fighting was in vain, they fought only to be tied up, assaulted, tortured, whipped; they'd had everything possible done to them, and eventually, they were reduced to robots. The Weasley children had been forced to watch as their parents were burnt to a crisp in the same way Neville had been.

Muggles were brought into the manor every day, subjected to the most unbelievable and vicious of tortures. Muggle newscasters were unable to explain the large number of disappearances that had taken place in the last decade. Dementors were running wild, sucking out souls left and right.

And it was all because of a fatal miscalculation in Dumbledore's brilliant plan. For Dumbledore had thought that the blood protection would tether Harry to life after he had been killed by Voldemort. But he had forgotten that the blood protection ran out on Harry's seventeenth birthday, when he came of age.

So all went wrong.

And all was lost.

A fatal miscalculation, indeed.