Shouldn't Have Told Him
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or world of Harry Potter; they are owned by J.K. Rowling. I own only the plot of my stories and anything else specified in either the author's notes or disclaimer on each story. No personal or public gain is made by me by publishing my work, and I apologise to anybody who takes offence at anything I write; it is not intended - I write solely for my enjoyment (and possible enjoyment of you, the reader).
So, without further ado...
'… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives …'
Harry Potter leapt to his feet, clearly horrified, and apoplectic with rage, red in the face resumed his berating of Dumbledore, albeit for a different reason.
'FUCK! Neither can live while the other survives? Why the hell didn't you tell me this before, you buggering motherfucker?' He was now hopping from one foot to the other as if desperate for the bathroom. 'Oh God; the fates. I'm so sorry fate, I didn't realise! There's only one possible option, 'neither can live while the other survives'. I've got to…' he trailed off, mumbling incoherently.
Then Harry pulled out his wand and muttered 'Got to be.' He pointed it at his own head.
'AVADA KEDAVRA'
The sickly green light flew from his wand and struck his forehead. For some reason the curse didn't work immediately, and Harry just had time to wipe his brow; 'Phew, I thought I was screwed for a second, we can't be alive at the same time, thank Merlin that's sorted out!' and collapsed, dead.
The headmaster looked on with a slightly bemused expression; he knew it had been a bad idea to force the poor boy to take cocaine to calm him down. It was regrettable but…
Then he recalled what Harry had said: 'Why the hell didn't you tell me this before, you buggering motherfucker?' His expression passed to amusement; 'I wonder why…' he thought rhetorically.
He opened the draw in his desk with a flick of his wand. 'Harry is, was, will be our only hope against Voldemort; this is regrettable, but simplifies things. '… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies …'' he finished. 'Harry must kill him and so it will be.'
Dumbledore pulled out several sticks, marked 'explosive' and hummed 'For he's a jolly good fellow' as he forced the dynamite down Harry's throat. Then he did a complicated little charm, with a wiggle of his wand, to set the new version of the H-bomb ('the Harry-bomb' he chuckled), to detonate at the sound of Voldemort's voice. Finally he called several owls and attached his explosive friend to them. He sighed as he wrote a message 'To Tom, Happy (early) Birthday, From Albus', and placed it in Harry's mouth. He then told the owls to give his present to Voldemort. 'Had to happen', he informed the portraits, and opened the window.
The old man watched the special delivery leave with a feeling of sorrow, so he broke into his private stash of crystal meth. He headed out of his office, and skipped down the corridor humming madly, to inform the house elves that he wanted breakfast tomorrow to be composed solely of lemon drops, his eyes twinkling madly…
Author's Note: This is the first fic I have completed, although that isn't saying too much, is it? I have simply hit writer's block on my longer (and saner) fic.
I hope you 'enjoyed' this, despite its brevity, and any reviews would be appreciated.