The next day, Ron and Harry were sitting nervously in Dumbledore's office. Perhaps it hadn't been such a good idea after all. Dumbledore CERTAINLY didn't seem to think so…
"You want to do WHAT?" Dumbledore shrieked, his beard quivering with anger and his half-moon spectacles teetering precariously on the end of his nose.
"Um," replied Ron, who hadn't quite understood the purpose of the question, "Shoot people. With guns. And maybe bombs."
Harry kicked him angrily under the table. "Look, sir. It was just an idea. A BAD idea. Ron's bad idea. We won't do it, honestly. I can see now, thinking about it, that it was stupid. Ridiculous even. In future I won't let Ron get ahead of himself. And may I say that those purple robes really do make you look at least forty years younger, sir?"
"Shut up, you useless suck up!' hollered Dumbledore, secretly slightly flattered, "You are absolutely the WORST chosen one ever! You've been here what, five years? Have you killed Voldemort? No! You've managed to get plenty of other people killed, but other than draining our resources you've done pretty much nothing! At least Ron here has some initiative. "
Ron smiled smugly and glanced sideways at Harry, who looked like he might burst into tears.
"Actually," continued Dumbledore, "maybe we SHOULD try guns…. Could work, I suppose! Ok, I've made a decision. Ron, you are officially the new chosen one. Congratulations."
"WHAT?" shouted Harry, clearly unable to contain himself " YOU CAN'T DO THAT! YOU CAN'T JUST CHOOSE THE CHOSEN ONE! I SURVIVED THE KILLING CURSE, I'M HARRY POTTER, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!"
"Now, now Harry," replied Dumbledore softly, " I'm not saying we write you off completely, not at all. You can help Ron. You can be, y'know, his second in command!"
"Basically, Harry," said Ron, grinning triumphantly, "You're gonna be my bitch!"
Fuming, Harry swept out of the office. Ron and Dumbledore looked up briefly as he left but soon continued their animated discussion about where best to get hold of an effective Voldemort killing arsenal.
