As with all great tales this one takes place on a dark and stormy night. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled overhead. The house was quiet for having so many people moving about in it. Well it was not really a house, but rather a mansion. A mansion in which Tom Riddle, better know to the world as Lord Voldemort, housed his army of Death Eaters and Dark Creatures. In the sitting room outside the master suite, known to all within the stronghold as the Throne Room, Voldemort stood in a pose similar to parade rest, with his feet shoulder width apart and both hands clasped behind his back. He stared pensively out the window into the darkness contemplating his next move in what he thought of as 'his' war. Lightning flashed again and the clap of thunder rattled the house it was so loud. Then, in classic horror movie style, a scream tore through the silence. Voldemort spun round. 'That was far to close to have been the downstairs door guards.' He thought. 'Something must have got in.' Little did he know just how true that was. 'Something' had got in. And it was coming for him.

Harry Potter was having great fun. Fifteen years into a war that, in his opinion, should never have been able to start in the first place if Dumbledore wasn't such a blind, old, fool. The last remaining friend he had, Hermione Granger, had been killed in an assault on Druids Way, the Scottish version of Diagon Alley in Edinburgh. He had turned to the one thing he could to keep his mind off the pain. Beer and movies. So now a highly drunk Harry Potter, after having watched far too many horror movies was sneaking through Riddle Mannor, killing Death Eaters in classic horror movie style.

Voldemort burst out of his Throne Room and strood down the hall. Not three steps later he heard a sound behind him and turned to see… nothing. He turned again to continue down the hall but was brought up short by the figure standing before him. Three metres away stood a figure all in black. A black robe with a hood (think star wars and the one Darth Maul wore.), and a black staff about 6 feet in length. His face was completely shrouded in darkness but by far the strangest thing were the two great black eagle like wings on his back (think that guy from the x-men movie but the feathers are black). Voldemort was not one to be scared facing any living man or beast but whatever it was in front of him nearly made him piss his pants when it spoke.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle. I have come for you." The raspy voice was not one he recognized and even though it was near a whisper he caught every word as if it had been shouted.

"Who are you? Show your face!" Voldemort demanded.

"I am the Angel of Death. I have no face the mortal me can see." The raspy voice, still barely above a whisper commanded total attention.

Voldemort's eyes went wide. He unconsciously took a step back.

"And now Tom Marvolo Riddle, it is time to collect the debt you owe me." The figure sprang forward as a blade slid out of the staff and impaled the shocked Ex-Dark Lord.

And with that the hood fell back and Harry Potter grinned. The poison on the blade had already killed Riddle. Handy things those dead basilisks. He retracted the blade and polished off the last of his beer, and, using the bottle as a portkey took the corpse with him to the Ministry.

Harry arrived in a room full of dead bodies and Aurors who were checking Dark Marks and identities. He then sat down on 'Moldy Shorts' as he liked to think of the deceased Dark Idiot underneath him and pulled out yet another beer.

Amelia Bones had seen Potter portkey in and wandered over towards him. She stopped short when she saw what, or rather who he was sitting on.

That was when she noticed he was drinking alcohol. "Potter you better not be drinking while on duty!" The Head Auror roared.

The room went silent. Every head turned to watch a scene that was sure to be entertaining. Harry just grinned and toasted them all, took another swig of his beer and said "To the victor go the spoils."

The lone reporter in the room was the second person to see who Potter was sitting on. The man whipped out his camera so fast it was not even a blur and snapped what photographers everywhere would be calling the perfect shot for weeks just as Potter toasted them.

Amelia just shook her head and smiled. She walked over and sat on Voldemorts legs, grabbed the beer from his hand and said "Well at least share you greedy bum."