The Time Ship.
The Death of Lord Voldemort.
Being tied to the headstone of Tom Riddle's father, Harry knew without a doubt the magical world was just plain stupid, and he sarcastically told himself he hadn't worked that one out before now. From his perspective the third task hadn't gone too badly, even if the onlookers in the Quidditch stadium hadn't been able to see the champions actually perform. That meant they also didn't see that Harry had cheated. He'd used a laser to burn the walls of the maze to form a route to the centre, and it also gave him the perfect means to make sure Fleur was okay.
He was genuinely fond of Fleur but he didn't love her, he wasn't even sure what love was. It was nothing like the feeling he had whenever he entered the TARDIS, but his feelings for Fleur were just friendly, so when he'd seen Krum curse her he'd lost his temper on her behalf, and he delivered a roundhouse punch that knocked Krum unconscious; for a professional Quidditch player Krum had one hell of a glass jaw.
Fleur was unconscious as well, and that made Harry's job much easier; he knew what was waiting for him, and he didn't want anybody else to get hurt. His plan was for him alone.
Unfortunately the pretty boy had gotten in the way, so Harry had knocked him out as well; really, Quidditch players should've been tougher than that, but it seemed they were vulnerable to being punched.
Harry had grabbed hold of the Triwizard cup, already prepared as the portkey had dropped him in the middle of the graveyard he knew Voldemort would use to resurrect himself, and he gave quite a good mock fight that the Death Eater he knew as Peter Pettigrew easily overcame. It had never occurred to the two idiots he'd surrendered so easily, they would regret their complacency soon enough.
Harry had watched the resurrection stoically though he'd grimaced in distaste when the tiny form of Voldemort was dropped into the cauldron. Harry wondered what Voldemort had done to get into such a weak body, and he came up with a very sick idea he'd taken over and murdered an innocent child. He barely even reacted except with a grunt as Pettigrew had sliced off his own hand, and took some of his blood to dip into the potion.
He watched as Voldemort emerged from the cauldron, demanded his wand, and summoned his followers. Carefully he reached for the instrument in his coat, and pressed the button.
Finally Voldemort turned his attention to Harry, who gazed back calmly. "Ah, Harry Potter," he hissed sibilantly, his voice cold like a sliver of ice dropping down someone's back. "We meet again."
"Indeed."
Voldemort cocked his head. "You do not seem to be frightened."
The observation made Harry give a half smile. "Very little scares me."
Voldemort laughed cruelly. "That will change, soon you will beg me for death, and I, being a merciful lord, shall oblige you."
"Oh, don't talk about mercy to me, you arrogant son of a weakling slut," Harry spat, finally losing his patience, ignoring the astonishment coming from the Death Eaters, and the anger rapidly emerging on Voldemort's face and entering his body language. "You know nothing of mercy. You know what, I'm glad of what I've been through. If I wasn't I wouldn't be able to do -"
He vanished, only to reappear right between the Death Eaters he knew as Crabbe and Goyle, a blaster in one hand and a knife in another. "This!" he finished.
Utter carnage. The Death Eaters tried to rally themselves, but Harry was using a teleporter to kill them. It was hard for them to aim for a target that kept moving. Four of the Death Eaters were rushing around like headless chickens to corner Harry when he reappeared again, but it never entered their minds their attempt was foolish because even if he was cornered he would simply jump again before they even got a spell off.
They did find out the flaw fairly quickly when Harry reappeared in the middle of their group, and after a few minutes of surprise that wore off they fired four killing curses, all in the corners of a square, at the last second he disappeared again and the Death Eaters were hit by the spells fired by their fellow Inner Circle members.
Voldemort growled as Harry jumped out of his line of sight even as he fired off a Killing curse, the spell he'd reserved exclusively for Harry Potter. The thought of killing the brat, ridding the world of the little bastard who had been the in the prophecy Severus had told him about years ago on what should have a simple matter of entering a protected home, and killing the boy in his crib, had been what had kept Voldemort sane for all those years in exile.
But the boy had vanished, and he'd reappeared again without any warning, and he was proving to be a formidable opponent. Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix had been a joke, and Voldemort had taken pride in his Inner circle, the most powerful of his followers, and none of the Order had touched any of them in battle. But back then his followers had been young, able bodied, and strong - now they were fat, middle aged men who lived behind their precious money and power bases. They should have been more than a match for someone who had practically renounced his magic and his heritage, but he was moving so fast and striking down his followers before they could stop him. The few curses that his Death Eaters were able to fire would kill their fellows.
Finally, only Voldemort, Pettigrew and Nagini were all that remained and Harry Potter was out of sight. The three of them were clustered in a circle, with the giant serpent coiled ready to spring and fight. The snake, augmented with the magic from the horcrux of her master, had far sharper senses than a regular snake, was twisting her head to and fro, eying the shadows warily.
Unfortunately, Harry was prepared for that; he'd phased out of normal space so he was rendered invisible. All that time he crept up right behind Pettigrew and the snake. He aimed his blaster right in Pettigrew's spine and held a small grenade with his free little finger whilst invisibly wrapping his free hand around the neck of the snake. What happened next was all done in a second, it was so fast Voldemort barely had time to swing round when the blaster bolt went right into Pettigrew's back, and the sound of panicked hissing as Nagini's massive body flailed around, but Harry punched her in the neck before he threw the grenade at Voldemort, who was blasted back.
When the Dark Lord recovered enough, he watched in horror as his familiar's head was locked in Potter's hands, and he could hear the cracking of bones as Harry crushed the snake's head. How was it possible? Voldemort's horcrux had augmented the snake's body to what it was today, lengthening it, enlarging it, giving her more powerful senses and intelligence. She should have been able to fight him off.
Now she was dead, her skull crushed and the horcrux destroyed.
Voldemort was now alone. For a long while the two men stared at one another, silently and unmoving. The Dark Lord was panting as he eyed the other unnerved, some would say fearful. But Voldemort's pride would never admit to that fear; he never admitted to it though he often wondered how anyone could believe he was afraid of Albus Dumbledore. He wasn't afraid of the old fool, but he gave the impression to lull the fools into a sense of security.
But now...
Harry Potter had single handedly and quickly despatched all of the remnants of his Inner Circle - it would have been interesting to see how members like the Lestrange brothers and Bellatrix would have handled it, Bella's mind was more capable of strategic thinking thanks to her years in Ravenclaw, but Voldemort had no doubt she would have eventually fallen though she would have put up a better fight than the pathetic excuses of followers he'd met for the first time in little more than a decade again.
Voldemort took a deep breath to gather his remaining energy. He knew there was only one outcome out of all this; one of them would die, that was what the prophecy hinted at; he might not have heard the full thing, but that didn't mean he didn't get the general gist of what it might of said. Dumbledore was simple minded if he didn't think he might have not being able to make such a guess, which was why he'd gone to the Potters, hunted them down like animals just to kill the child.
He chose Potter because of their similarities; half blood, and it was possible thanks to the mixing of Lily and James's blood, their children would be powerful. He couldn't risk that.
Voldemort gathered his magic for one spell. After seeing what Potter was capable of, moving through air, attacking whilst being invisible and killing people so efficiently, killing his most powerful followers and killing his horcrux imbued familiar, he wasn't going to be dramatic. He was going for the jugular. "Avada Kedavra!" he shouted.
Harry rolled his eyes at the predictable move, and he went invisible at the last moment. He stepped to the side, watching as the curse destroyed a headstone that had been right behind him, and shook his head. He didn't know and frankly didn't care when the non magical people arrived in the graveyard in the morning what their reactions to the dead bodies of the men and women in weird halloween costumes with such an abnormally large snake would be. He wasn't cleaning up the mess, he knew that much.
Turning round, he caught sight of Voldemort's fear, and ran over to him, decloaking himself as he went before Voldemort's befuddled mind could react, and he punched Voldemort to the ground...
The onlookers of the Triwizard tournament were growing bored. Some of the smarter members of the audience wondered how the hell this was good entertainment if they couldn't see what was happening. There was drama, though. The French and Bulgarian champions had shot up sparks, soon followed by Cedric Diggory who was nursing his jaw, and cursing Harry Potter under his breath.
Diggory's injury and the possible causes of it soon reached the Potters and Dumbledore, and it soon came out that the same thing had also happened to the Bulgarian champion.
Lily ignored her husband as she sagged. Her son was proving once again he wasn't the kind of person Dumbledore would want in the Order, and frankly Lily didn't care anymore about the Headmaster and his games. She'd screwed up badly, her sister had been a doting mother and she would never have abandoned Dudley. When Lily had learnt what Harry had done to her only sibling, she hadn't wanted to believe he could murder someone so brutally, but Petunia deserved it for the years of pain and misery she'd put him through.
Lily knew that her hopes Harry would forgive her were never going to happen, but she could always hope. Whilst on the run, she and James had tried to conceive in defiance of Dumbledore's orders not to have another child; who was he to say such a thing? But Lily was infertile now. Harry was all she had.
Suddenly in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, a portkey dropped two forms on the ground. The orchestra immediately started playing their instruments before the first person saw who one of those forms were, and started to scream. Lily's eyes widened in disbelief as Harry wrestled Voldemort to the ground, delivering punches and blows to the Dark Lords face and body that Lily could guess broke bone.
Voldemort tried to escape, but Harry was relentless; he clamped his hand over Voldemort's forearm, and snapped it. The cry of pain made everyone cringe and scream, trying to get away but Harry didn't care as he ruthlessly beat the feared Dark Lord who was now pleading, begging for mercy, but his combatant would not listen.
Finally Harry had Voldemort's head in his hands, everyone started to hear the sound of breaking bones. "Thank you for everything," Harry said before crushing Voldemort's head to pulp.
Everyone in the audience screamed as the body fell to the ground, and Harry turned around. His eyes scanned the crowd, looking for someone before they fixed on the Potters and Dumbledore, and he disappeared only to reappear again right in front of Dumbledore.
Ignoring all the gasps and the wands drawn threateningly, Harry reached into his pocket and drew out a small bag which he opened and tipped out onto the platform. There were bits and pieces, a diadem, a cup, a diary, and a necklace. "They're all destroyed, including the one in my scar," Harry said to Dumbledore. "Stay away from me. I've done what you've wanted, now leave me alone."
Harry disappeared in a flash of light, only to reappear again next to Fleur. "Hey Fleur."
Fleur tried to smile but she was unnerved by how brutally he'd killed Voldemort. Harry saw the fear on her face, and for a moment he almost gave up what he was about to tell her, but he thought better of it. "Fleur, in a few years time, there will be a storm coming in the magical world, a storm which will do terrible things. Stay away from it, and so long. Have a good life, for me, yeah." He lent forwards and kissed the girl on her cheeks before disappearing.
Reappearing inside the TARDIS, Harry barely took time to reflect on the things he'd wanted to say to his parents, but decided that his silence should make it clear to them he wanted nothing more to do with them. The fact his mother was incapable of having anymore kids didn't make a difference to him; they'd had their chance and they'd blown it, if Dumbledore asked them they would do it again without thinking of the consequences.
Harry had nothing but contempt for them, and it no longer mattered to him if they died heartbroken he hadn't forgiven them.
They'd brought it on themselves, and he was left to travel the universe.
Alone.