-Betrayal-
By Lyla Hayden
Blood glistened on the floor. Crimson echos of the bullets seared the walls, covering them with a thick blanket of red. Bodies lay strewn all around him as he walked down the corridor towards his target.
He flicked his tongue out over lips coated with his own blood and spat out what entered his mouth. "Disgusting," he sneered as he felt a hand crunch beneath his boots. Wands really were no match for the great power of his machine gun.
He kicked aside the body of a small girl with hair just as red as the liquid that coated her clothing. Around her lay bodies of three boys with hair the same shade. The man responsible just sneered and shoved them away. "Weasleys. They're ruining my new pants."
The man tucked a strand of raven hair behind one delicate ear, his emerald eyes shinning glasses-free under the candlelight as he pushed open the double doors to the Great Hall to allow even more room. The lightning-shaped scar stood out plainly as he stepped inside.
Scattered around the room lay the dead and the dying. Hufflepuffs, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and even the brave Gryffindors lay in the mass puddles of blood. "Are you proud of me now, old man?" he said to the only person in the room that had no blood on them, at least none of his own.
"Harry, why do this?" Dumbledore asked, his face filled with emotions that ranged from frightened to confused, to even pity. 'Pity,' Harry scoffed. 'I've had too much of that in my life already.'
The great Boy Who Lived raised his hands up near the sides of his head, palms upward, and shrugged. He'd left his weapon back near the mass grave that used to be his home. "I don't have to have a reason. Voldemort has been vanquished, I'm free to finally do what I want."
"But, Harry…"
"Oh, just shut up, old man." Dumbledore shut his mouth at that. Harry just sneered and made his way over to the Slytherin table. His fingers trailed over each body until they rested on the silky blond hair of one of his mortal enemies.
Draco Malfoy laid half off the bench, his head resting rather peacefully on his folded arms, his legs twisted neatly beneath him. "Oh, Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy." His fingers twisted in the long blond locks and he yanked back the head to which they were still quite attached to.
A thick groan floated out through blood-soaked lips and Harry pulled the boy up to his feet by his hair. "Still beautiful, even when dying." He casually tossed the Slytherin aside and jumped over the table, heading for the Gryffindors.
All through this, the great Albus Dumbledore sat frozen in his seat. Harry came to the spot at which he normally sat and looked to the girl that sat slumped over directly next to him. With one swift kick, he sent her flying from her spot and tumbling to the ground.
One gaping hole lay on her temple, blood pouring from it, still, though she was long since dead. "Hermione, Hermione. Didn't I tell you not to double-cross me?" A sigh escaped those traitorous lips of his. "How come no one ever listens to me, old man?"
Harry rolled his head back, then to each side until he heard a soft pop. "I asked them all to join me, but they just laughed and thought I was joking. Who would've thought that I, the amazing Boy Who Lived to Kill Voldemort would go crazy and do this?!" The silence of the room was broken when maniacal laughter filled it.
He leaped down from the bench he'd jumped up on not but a minute ago and landed hard on Hermione's chest. A sickening crunch added to the creepy sounds echoing through the Great Hall.
Harry once more headed towards the head table, moving at a pace he found relaxing and still quite fearful, building up the suspense of when he reached his target. Standing at the bottom of those steps leading up to the table, he sneered, turned, and leaped up to jump on the table directly in front of his 'favorite' teacher.
"PROFESSOR Snape. How are you this beautiful evening?" The man had his head flopped down against the table, although it was obvious he was still breathing. The tip of Harry's boot sent the man back into his seat, his head sliding nauseatingly over to one side. He'd been shot in the side and would probably live. That is, if Harry wanted any of them to live.
Harry knelt down in front of the Potions Master and tipped his head up to look him in the eye. "I have a present for you, Snape." With his free hand, he reached beneath his thick cloak to pull out a standard handgun. Without waiting for an answer from the half-conscious teacher, he pulled back the hammer and fired the gun heatedly right between the man's eyes.
He pulled himself to his feet and turned to the headmaster who sat frozen in shock. "How have you liked my show, Dumbledore?" Dumbledore made a soft grumbling sound and Harry sighed, aiming the gun towards the man. "Who'd have thunk guns could take out an entire school of trusting wizards and witches?"
The headmaster's eyes widened in fear and regret just as Harry pulled the trigger. A hot bullet flew quickly into the man's eye, sending juice and blood all over Harry. Harry laughed and jumped down off the table.
"This is the part I knew I was gonna hate." He turned back towards the man he'd once looked up to like a grandfather and shook his head. "Not to give you more credit then you deserve. I just hate having to ruin this outfit."
He slowly made his way around the room moving everyone around, checking for life. If he found any, he'd shoot them once through the temple and then move on to the next. Once he'd finished with the Great Hall, he moved through the corridors, searching each person methodically and precisely.
When he was sure everyone was dead, he looked himself over. Checking each person had caused more blood to fall onto his own clothes as well. He threw the gun aside and went to add more blood, nearly soaking himself to the core in it.
Done, he headed out the front doors and down towards Hogsmeade. When he was well enough away, he stopped, looked back, rolled his shoulders, and apparated away.
Arriving at the Ministry of Magic coated in blood, tears streaming down his face, forced, of course, he stumbled towards where he knew the Minister to be. "Help! Please! Someone! Anyone…PLEASE!"
He told his story just as he'd planned. He had gone out for a fly on his broom stick and when he came back, he found everyone dead. He tried to save them, but it was already too late. When he got a hold of himself enough, he'd left and apparated to the Ministry to get help.
They believed him. His plan worked perfectly. Hogwarts was gone. But why did he do such a horrific deed? Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived, the boy who killed the Dark Lord Voldemort, had grown bored of the place. He had started to hate it. So, understandably, he got rid of it.
And he got away with it, too. Now all that was left to do was to find something new to excite him. Harry walked out of the Ministry and apparated back to the Dursleys to find them all seated down for dinner. "I'm back to play," he said sadistically as he wiped a spot of blood off his forehead.
-End-
A/N: x.x Review please. No flames. Yes, I know this was pointless. No need to point it out to me. It just came out of an hour of boredom and an idea for a story that turns the table on good and evil within that school.