This story begins when Harry finds the Gryffindor Sword, and what could have happened if Ron hadn't come for him...this is my forst story...I hope you can enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, the characters or anything else I might have forgotten to write.

Harry Potter saw the doe disappear between the surrounding trees. Was this where she had wanted to lead him? There was a small lake at his feet, reflecting the moon on its surface. Harry looked into the lake and saw the sword of Gryffindor resting at the bottom. Without hesitation, he entered the lake without bothering to remove his clothes, held his breath and slid underwater. He did not dare to open his eyes, as his eyes had always reacted badly when exposed to water, but he could feel the ruby-encrusted hilt of the sword just beneath him. He grabbed it, but it wouldn't come loose. He pulled more, and finally it came free. But as Harry attempted to swim upwards, he was suddenly paralysed. Also, he could feel the lack of air becoming problematic. He reached for his throat and, to his horror, realised that the locket around his neck was choking him. He pulled at it frantically, opened his eyes and searched for something to pull him upwards, but his arms did not react. Harry sank to the bottom of the lake like a stone, pulled by the weight of the sword. He tucked it into his belt and felt the world slip away, and let himself be pulled into darkness.

Harry awoke to find himself lying on a cold stone floor. His clothes and hair were drenched from his nocturnal swim, but he could still feel the Gryffindor sword brushing against his leg as he moved. Where was he? He got up, wincing as his vision blurred for a moment. He looked towards the only source of light, a crude type of torch in the wall. From the look of it, he was in a sort of cell. He rattled the iron door leading to a long corridor, but it wouldn't budge. He heard voices echoing off the stone walls. Acting on impulse, he pulled the sword of Gryffindor out of his belt and hid it between several large rocks in a corner. As an afterthought, he lay back down on the floor and closed his eyes as the sound of footsteps reached his ears, accompanying the voices.

'This is him, then?', asked a deep male voice.

The person he was speaking to didn't answer, but Harry heard the rattling of keys and the creak of the prison door as it was opened. Someone kicked Harry in the side.

'You! Get up!'

Harry groaned and put a hand to his forehead, thinking it would be wiser if the men thought he had only just woken up. A hand grabbed his shirt and pulled him upwards. He opened his eyes and found himself looking at a bulky man with narrow eyes and scars on his face: a stereotypical prison guard.

'Come on, boy, move!'

Before Harry could react, he was dragged roughly down the tunnel. He made no attempt to resist, as his wand had probably been removed. They reached a door, and Harry was pulled inside. There was a desk and a chair in front on it. Harry was shoved into the chair and saw that there was a man sitting opposite him, his face hidden by the standard Death Eater mask.

'You are Harry Potter.'

It was a statement, not a question. Harry decided not to answer.

'What were you doing in that lake in the middle of the night?'

Harry's heart beat faster as his brain whirred, searching for any possible excuse.

'I...Someone pushed me…'

'A likely tale. Who was it?'

'I don't know, do I? I was just standing there, and then someone came up from behind me and shoved me in! I never saw anyone!'

Harry was starting to get nervous, he hoped with all his heart that the man wasn't a Legilimens, or all his lying would have no point.

'I see…and what were you doing, wandering through the forest alone? Surely these times are a bit….dangerous for such things?'

'I…I wasn't feeling well…I wanted to get some fresh air!'

The masked man laughed derisively.

'And you really think I'd believe a story as ridiculous as that?'

Harry waited, even more nervous. Whatever the man asked, he could not mention the sword.

He nearly fell out of his seat as the masked man stood up abruptly, his chair clattering to the floor behind him.

'Enough messing around, Potter. I want the truth. Now. I will ask again: What were you doing in that forest?'

His voice had changed, it was angry and impatient, and he had an air of danger about him.

Yet Harry remained silent and tried to look puzzled that the questioner didn't believe his story. The would-be puzzled expression slid off his face, though, as he felt a sharp pain in his left arm, and it fell uselessly to his side. The masked man had silently given a command to the guard. He had a firm grip on Harry's lower arm and was twisting it behind his back.

'Anything you'd like to tell me?'

Harry raised his head and saw the man standing before him, arms crossed at his chest.

Although he was still wearing the mask, Harry was sure there was a broad smile on his face.

He gritted his teeth and shook his head. The man nodded slightly, and the guard twisted Harry's arm even further. A loud crack echoed across the dungeon; though Harry bit back the scream rising up in his throat, he could not stop the tears rolling down his cheeks. Seeing them, the questioner chuckled quietly, but still audibly. He walked nearer to Harry, pacing up and down in front of him. He spoke again, but his voice was softer than before.

'Are you sure there isn't anything? Nothing at all?'

Harry was annoyed by this change of tone; he glared up at the man silently, clutching his broken arm, which was still throbbing painfully. Another nod from the man and Harry found himself being dragged down the corridor again and pushed into the same dirty cell he had awoken in.

When the guard had gone, Harry tore off his shirt and sweater to inspect the damage to his arm. The light was not sufficient, but as he ran his right hand along his arm, he felt part of the bone jutting out at a weird angle. It had broken the skin, there was warm blood sticking to his side and his clothes. He tried to rearrange the bones of his arm into a more natural position, but it still hurt too badly, so he contented himself with fashioning a makeshift sling from his sweater. Then, after hours of being unable to fall asleep of the pain, he finally drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

Harry awoke groggily when someone shook him awake roughly. Obviously, his glasses had been removed, for his surroundings were blurred. He stumbled blindly along the hall that someone, most likely the guard of the previous day, was pulling him through.

They finally arrived in a room very similar to the last, but there was no masked man this time. Even without glasses, Harry instantly recognized the unnaturally pale face, the slit-like nostrils, and the red eyes. It was Lord Voldemort, and Harry felt sure that he was the masked man from the day before.

'Aaah…Harry Potter.'

Lord Voldemort swept over to Harry and took hold of his broken arm, making Harry walk further into the room. He saw that the Dark Lord was holding some sort of staff in the other hand.

'So, Harry…we had a little discussion yesterday, perhaps you remember. Now then, will you tell me what I want to know, or do you need more …persuasion?'

Harry remained silent but kept a wary eye on the staff. But Voldemort was too fast. The next moment, he had directed it at Harry, who was slammed into the wall. He barely avoided the next curse as he clambered to his feet clumsily, but Voldemort had grabbed his shirt, tearing it, and hurled him carelessly into a corner. Harry struggled to get up as Voldemort came closer, forcing him even further backwards as he tried to avoid him.

'You won't be able to evade me for ever', Voldemort hissed into Harry's ear, 'Eventually you'll tell me what I want to know…you will see!'

And Harry was face-down on the floor again, now sporting a bloody nose along with several bruises. All he saw of Voldemort was the end of the staff, which was pointing at Harry's head.

'Sure you won't tell me anything, Potter?', Voldemort said mockingly from somewhere above him.

'Go to hell…you…bastard', Harry muttered wearily, knowing what was to come.

'Avada Kedavra!', snarled Lord Voldemort, and the world turned black around Harry.

Harry awoke lying face-up on the same floor he had supposedly been killed on, the echo of an inhuman scream disturbing the silence. Why had the deadly curse failed yet again?

He heard voices above him and was careful to keep his eyes shut.

'The boy was a Horcrux, and Potter's friends have destroyed all the others!'

'The Dark Lord has fallen, everything is lost!'

Despite his situation, Harry smiled to himself. So Ron and Hermione had found another way of destroying the Horcruxes…and he had been the last one. Their task was finally complete.

'Wait…if the boy was a Horcrux, did he really die?', asked someone.

Harry knew it was pointless to evade death and opened his eyes. A dozen faces were staring down at him, all wearing Death Eater masks. On his left, between the feet of the Dark Lord's followers, lay Voldemort, eyes wide open and clearly dead.

One of the Death Eaters raised his wand, but Harry was ready for death.

He closed his eyes as the man spoke the words that had twice failed to kill him, and Harry felt himseld leaving the world forever.