The Final Showdown

written by Shaun Garin

JK Rowling owns Harry Potter. I'm just meddling with it.


"Harry Potter...."

The hiss was vile, almost inhuman. Brilliant red eyes glowed menacingly as the pair stood each other down at the gates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They seemed to ignore everything around them, as Aurors and Death Eaters clashed together.

"Hello, Tom...."

The voice was young, still breaking into the tenor of the late teens. It was utterly smooth and without fear. It knew it was coming and this day, he was ready for it. Three times he had escaped Tom Riddle, otherwise known as Lord Voldemort to the Wizarding World, just like his parents before him.

The fourth time, there would be only One.

Brilliant red eyes flashed angrily. "You have NOT the right!" the snake hissed, bringing up his wand in a salute. Voldemort was fond of playing with his opponents, making them second guess his movements.

"I'm calling it what I see it as, Tom." The reply was calm as Harry Potter brought up his own wand, seemingly saluting him mockingly before the calm before the storm. Knowing this, Harry pressed on. "You're fighting to destroy everything that you are, Tom. You, are a muggle."

Voldemort's eyes flared angrily. "You pathetic child! Avada Kedavra!"

Harry brought up his own wand. "Expellimarus!"

Sickly green light met a burst of white and the wands connected. The golden thread began to weave itself around each other, and Voldemort grinned evilly.

"I have more strength than when we first dueled boy!" snarled Voldemort, his own bead of light forcing Harry's back. "I will take you down!"

"Not if I take you down first!"

And then, there was a resounding crack as Voldemort broke the connection, stumbling backwards.

Everyone paused to look at the sight, as Harry Potter held a smoking pistol in his free hand, sighting down the barrel. Voldemort, stumbled back, and clutched his wound.

And then, the high voice spoke. "You SHOT me!"

"Duh," replied Potter.

"YOU SHOT ME RIGHT IN THE ARM!"

"Sorry, I'll aim a bit to the left." And then, another shot rang out, and the Dark Lord fell dead to the world.

The end of the school year reached the finale and Harry stood at the doors of his last leaving feast. Hermione, wounded by several curses, sat in a floating chair while Ron held his own arm, gashed open by a severing spell and fixed expertly. Ginny stood behind him, and the two others that had become his own family, Luna and Neville, stood behind them.

And when the whole world turned to look at the Boy Who Killed Voldemort, Ron turned to Harry and said, "Harry?"

"Yes Ron?"

"That gun.... you weren't planning this for the whole school year, were you?"

"Honestly?" Harry smirked as he twirled the Walthar PPK around his finger before slipping it into a hidden holster on his body. "Yes."

Hermione sighed. "I KNEW showing him James Bond movies were a bad idea."