Disclaimer: Mild language and nongraphic butt-sex to follow. Read at your own risk, retardation is to follow.

"Legilimency?" questioned Ron.

"No, he knows that," was Harry's response.

"Necromancy?"

Oddly enough, that one was from Hermione, who had already shot down other suggestions that were even remotely associated with dark magic. Harry was slightly surprised, but knew the answer none the less.

"Nope, he knows that too. Hey, wait! I've got it!"

Six Months Later, Final Battle

"Ready to die, Potter?"

"Too late, bitch! I found the power you know not!"

"Oh? May I enquire as to what it is?"

Harry neglected to respond verbally, instead waving a hand at some nearby bushes. Voldemort, formerly Tom Riddle (who was ironically abismal at solving them), was slightly surprised to see the pale son of Lucius Malfoy emerge from his cover.

"Porking Draco. Getting gay was the power you knew not!"

"Er...no, Potter. I've been getting gay with my Death Eaters for years," whispered Voldemort, now shaking his head in silent snake-like laughter.

"...Diabolical bastard, you mean I've been screwing Draco for the last four months for no reason?"

Harry Potter was most definitely angry. He had wasted four months screwing Draco, who was apparently a lost cause in the way of the Power the Dark Lord Knows Not. So angry, in fact, that he almost missed the afore-mentioned blonde's quivering lip.

"You mean I was nothing to you, Harry?" whimpered the blonde.

"Burn in hell, you bothersome little bitch. Avada Kedavra," rasped Harry, firing the Death Curse at the Malfoy Heir.

Draco was so surprised that he failed to dodge; rather, he failed to even move until the neon green curse struck his chest, dropping him to the ground. Voldemort looked on with his mouth agape. Potter had never used a dark curse in battle, much less one of the unforgivables. Not only that, but the hate and power involved had trumped any single curse the Dark Lord could remember using. He was officially shaking in his boots as Harry turned to him and began speaking in a voice that even the darkest of dark lords dreaded.

"For letting me believe that tapping Draco's pasty white ass was a possible solution, I'm going to kill you, Riddle. Then I'm going to resurrect you. And then I'm going to kill you again. And then I'm going to toss your body to a horde of Necrophiliacs."

True to his word, Harry did exactly that. After killing, raising, and killing Tom Riddle again, Harry dumped the body in a local asylum. He evacuated before he saw anything, but he was pretty sure that Tom Riddle's body was defiled in ways that Draco could have only dreamed about.

A/N:
Got bored during lunch break, decided to write something. I actually had a full-length fic or three in mind, but decided that being productive wasn't becoming of me. Thus, retardation and sick humor struck.

A-T