WE OWN NOTHING, AS ALWAYS

Does You-Know-Who Look...

By Conqueror Z

Conceived by Z and C

The Dursleys were gone for the night. His uncle had been invited to a Grunnings dinner, and Uncle Vernon had decided to take his wife and son with him as a treat and to proudly show off his little boy. They had told him not to leave his room for anything before they left, and Uncle Vernon had made sure the door was locked before they left.

They had only been gone for a few minutes before Harry Potter managed to open the door to his room and enter the kitchen. The boy was starving, as he hadn't been fed any scraps from dinner tonight. Acting quickly, he made a ham and cheese sandwich for himself before replacing everything carefully. Aunt Petunia would assume that either Vernon or Dudley would have made themselves a late-night snack. As he grabbed his bounty and started heading back to his room, he stopped in the doorway of the sitting room, where Dudley had left the TV on.

The screen caught his eye as it started running a movie unlike anything Harry had seen before.

"Pulp Fiction? That's a weird name." Harry muttered to himself, drawn to the TV despite himself.

The Dursleys wouldn't be back for a while, having to drive to London, eat, and drive back. He had some time to kill, Harry reasoned.

It was a 53 minute drive from Surrey to London on a perfectly clear night with no accidents. It was not a clear night, and there had been two accidents, increasing the Dursley's drive time to about 62 minutes both ways.

They sat at the restaurant for about 35 minutes eating, and sat talking with Vernon's coworkers and superiors for a further 20 minutes.

The movie Harry watched had a runtime of 154 minutes. By the time the Dursley's car pulled into their driveway, he had been back in his room for about 23 minutes.

He was quiet as the Dursleys trudged upstairs to their respective rooms, and made no noise when Vernon checked the lock on his door.

Harry had trouble sleeping that night, his mind buzzing with thoughts about the amazing movie he had watched.

Years had passed since that fateful night. Now Harry Potter, age 17, stood in the ruins of the Great Hall of Hogwarts.

His foe, the legendary Dark Lord Voldemort, stood before him. Around them, the Death Eaters and the Defenders of Hogwarts both stared on in equal fascination, having mutually stopped fighting to witness the culmination of a feud that had lasted seventeen years.

It was the Dark Lord who spoke first, of course. His pride wouldn't let him be made a fool of in battle, be it one of wands or of wits. He waved his hand through the air, showing off the Elder Wand clasped in his pale hand.

"Well, Potter." he said, practically hissing the name. "It seems that no matter what you do, or who you sacrifice, you truly are destined to die at my hand, after all."

Harry did not respond, choosing instead to observe his movements.

The red eyes of Voldemort flashed briefly in pleasure. The boy must be so afraid of him that he couldn't even speak!

"But I suppose that this is how it was always going to go, wasn't it? Here and now, at the end, I can finish our lengthy struggle with but a single spell!" he continued, gathering his magic.

Still, the boy said nothing. He simply stood there, arms at his sides, with his wand loosely held.

This was even better than he thought! The terror building in the boy had paralyzed him! Nothing would save him now!

"This wand has given me power untold! I could destroy this whole castle with a single thought! Would you like that, Potter? Would you like to see your pitiful existence crumble around you? I assure you, I could grant you a merciful death if you wanted." he offered tauntingly, supremely confident in his victory.

Yet still, Harry Potter said nothing. The boy simply looked at him with an unreadable expression.

The tension in the air was so thick the sharpest knife in the world couldn't cut it.

Voldemort grinned a wicked smile, which was a truly terrifying sight considering his facial features consisted of gleaming red eyes, a slitted nose like a snakes, and teeth that seemed to be like gravestones. He was so convinced of his superiority and victory that he never saw Harry reach into his jacket.

The crowd was so transfixed by Voldemort's words that they didn't see Harry move either.

"Well then, Potter. I guess if you won't talk, I'll just have to find a way to make you talk. Perhaps I should pick one of your dear allies and make them scream? Maybe that will get you talki-"

BOOM!

The gunshot rang through the silent Great Hall, startling everyone in it. The only movement came from Lucius Malfoy, who slumped over with a bleeding hole in his head.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One of the Wizarding World, blew away the smoke coming from the barrel of the Walther P99 in his hand.

"Oh, I'm sorry Tom, did I break your concentration?" Harry finally said, walking towards the now-stunned Dark Lord, wand in one hand and pistol in the other.

The wizards who came from non-magical families recognized the weapon for what it was instantly. The vast majority of the Death Eaters, however, had no knowledge of the gun at all, as they were mostly Pure-Blood wizards.

"I didn't mean to interrupt you, Tom. That was rather rude of me, wasn't it?" Harry continued stopping a few feet away. "Do continue! I believe you were saying something about screaming?"

"I-I-I w-was..." Voldemort stuttered, completely thrown off by the sight of is chief financial supplier getting shot in the head.

"Oh, you were finished? Good! Then allow me to retort!" Harry exclaimed happily before shooting Voldemort in the kneecap.

The Dark Lord screamed as he went down, the Elder Wand falling from his hands as they automatically went to hold his knee, which was now gushing blood.

The bullet had gone through the patellar tendon and the articular cartilage before becoming stuck in the femur. Even if Voldemort was going to live through the next few minutes, he would still need major surgery and therapy to ever regain full mobility in his right leg.

Harry began to walk around the now-crippled Dark Lord, stopping only to pick up the fallen Elder Wand and tuck it into his pocket. The shocked crowd was just as transfixed with his movements as they were with Voldemort's.

"I did a little reading while we were on the run. Shocker, I know." Harry said conversationally while examining his fallen enemy like one would look at a piece of chewing gum stuck to their shoe. "After all, despite all of Hermione's efforts, I never was the most studious of individuals. Probably Ron's influence." he added, sending a little nod to the Weasley in question, who hesitantly waved back.

He turned his attention back to Voldemort. "And while I was reading, I came across a verse I fell in love with. It reads:

"The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the
Inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men
Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will
shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness
for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children
And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious
Anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers
And you will know
My name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee!"

As he spoke, Harry had maneuvered himself to be in Voldemort's field of view, who, in contrast to his earlier expression of pleasure, instead wore an expression that provided the impression that Voldemort had just relieved himself in his underwear.

Judging by the odor, that wasn't far off the mark.

Harry grinned. "Ezekiel 25:17. It doesn't get any better than that, doesn't it Tom?" The grin was abruptly wiped away to be replaced with a scowl.

"Know this, Tom. The vengeance that I lay upon you now is of your own doing. I kill you now in the names of my parents, who you murdered, and in the countless others who died as a result of your actions." Harry intoned as he approached his fallen foe,the Walther P99 seemingly gleaming in his hand.

All those gathered around, Death Eaters and defenders alike, held their breath.

Harry Potter raised the gun.

"Goodbye, Tom."

BOOM!

The first shot went through the Dark Lord's neck.

BOOM!

The next shot went into the left shoulder.

BOOM! BOOM!

The next two shots were carefully placed in the head. Harry put the second shot in just to make sure. He considered the gun for a second, then pulled the trigger three more times.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Finally satisfied, Harry stepped away from the ruined, bloody, bullet-riddled corpse of Voldemort, pausing only to spit in the corpse's general direction.

He turned to look in the direction of the gathered Death Eaters, who now watched his every movement fearfully. Harry pointed the gun at them.

There was a clatter of wood on stone as the Death Eaters, stone-cold killers to a man, dropped their wands like they were on fire and prostrated themselves on the ground with hands raised.

"Motherfucking cowards." Harry muttered.

AN: I, Z, along with C, Created the Idea for this Story Long ago, but never actually Wrote it. Now I have.

More Stuff coming Soon.

Laters.