THREE VICTORIES, ONE BATTLE!
Standing over Voldemort's very dead corpse Harry couldn't help but grin. Hermione was nodding approvingly while Ron was just sort of staring at the body of the former Dark Lord in disbelief.
"Nice work Harry," Hermione broke the sacred silence.
"I know it was, wasn't it?" Harry gave a satisfied sigh.
Delores Umbitch, uh… Umbridge, appeared with her new lapdog, Weatherby. Her toad like visage had changed not at all from her days as High Inquisitor at Hogwarts.
"So, you murdered an innocent man Potter?" She shrieked. "I'll have your wand snapped and you in Azkaban for this!"
With a shrug Harry drew out a pistol and fired point blank at Umbridge. The nasty toad woman joined Voldemort as a dead corpse on the field of battle.
"You want some of this?" Harry waved the pistol in Percy's general direction.
The former Head Boy quivered and shook his head, "No sir, Mr. Potter sir! I'll see to it myself you get an Order of Merlin First Class and a holiday with a parade every year for your heroic deeds on the field of battle between good and evil – "
Percy was cut off as both Hermione and Ron shot him with their .22 guages.
"He always was an annoying prat," Ron shook his head.
"Talks way too much," Hermione agreed.
"Thanks guys," Harry smiled.
THE POWER OF LOVE
"Was it the power of love, my boy?" Dumbledore twinkled happily at the trio. "Or more precisely your love for Ms. Granger?"
"What gave you the idea I'm in love with Hermione?" He looked at his two best friends standing behind him and rolled his eyes.
"Your love for young Ron then?" Dumbledore smiled and twinkled some more.
"What?!" Harry yelped.
Hermione's jaw dropped and Ron chocked on his lemon drop.
"Then who's love helped you to defeat Voldemort dear boy?" Dumbledore asked.
"Go on Harry!" Ron recovered from his choking. "Tell him what you nicknamed her!"
Harry looked at the carpet as his two friends needled him to tell the Headmaster 'her' nickname.
"Ah, so there is a special someone then," Dumbledore smiled merrily.
Harry quickly pulled out his pistol, "I call her Bertha. She's been a big help."
The trio stared at Dumbledore as he grabbed at his throat. Slowly his face began to turn blue.
"I think he's in the process of choking on a lemon drop," Hermione stared at the spectacle in horrified fascination.
"Do you think we should help him?" Ron asked.
Even Dumbledore's phoenix sat on his perch and watched the old wizard continue choking. Finally Hermione had had enough of listening to the abortive little wheezing as the Headmaster attempted to breath. She walked around behind his desk and pounded him on the back far harder than necessary.
"We nicknamed ours too!" Ron happily pulled out his 'special someone'. "I call mine Gwenog, after Gwenog Jones the hot Quidditch player."
"I named mine Bubba," Hermione patted her 'special someone' fondly. "He keeps me company on long dark nights."