Molotov Cocktail

by Amatadlc

Harry is tired of playing by the rules, and takes the war into his own hands. One-shot ficlet.(Rating is mostly for the attitude.)

When Harry thought about it, really, it all made a wicked sort of sense.People were idiots. War came. People who mattered died.
Rinse... Repeat.

The first time around it was Voldemort. And his parents died.

The second time around it was Voldemort again. And Sirius died.

The third time around it was still Voldemort. And Harry was sick and tired of the game.

The way he saw it, it was time that somebody finally fucked over the Dark Lord. He didn't seem to get the message any other way; and people just kept dying. Obviously, Dumbledore's tactics weren't exactly effective. And somehow, the moment he picked up the glass bottle, Harry knew that where ever Sirius was, he had a wicked grin.

This was the way to fight a war. This was the way to stick it to the bloody bastard.
Voldemort cocktails for everyone tonight.

Harry smirked as he lit the rag, and threw.