By the time Harry entered his seventh year at Hogwarts, he had firmly established himself as the wizarding world's most unpredictable, unconventional problem-solver. Whether it was Death Eaters, dark creatures, or even a particularly tricky Transfiguration essay, Harry had developed a habit of reaching for his trusty Colt before considering magic.

This approach may have confused most wizards, but Harry couldn't deny the effectiveness. And honestly, after everything he'd been through, who had time for duels when one or two well-placed shots could end a confrontation before it even started?

The final battle between good and evil took place at Hogwarts, and the school was once again filled with chaos. Death Eaters stormed the grounds, curses flew through the air, and students fought bravely to defend their home. Harry, however, had a slightly different approach.

As he rushed toward the battlefield, flanked by Ron and Hermione, his friends were shouting spells left and right. Hermione had perfected her Stupefy, and Ron had finally figured out how to cast a shield charm without accidentally stunning himself.

But Harry? Harry was just waiting for the perfect moment to pull his Colt out of its custom wand holster—an invention that combined convenience and his natural flair for absurdity.

They reached the courtyard, where Bellatrix Lestrange was gleefully throwing curses at anything that moved. "You'll never win, Potter!" she shrieked, cackling as she sent a stream of fire toward them.

Ron ducked, Hermione raised her wand to cast a shield, but Harry simply pulled out his Colt and fired three shots in her direction. The fire instantly disappeared, and Bellatrix's cackle turned into a shriek as she ducked for cover.

"You shot at me?!" she screeched, clearly offended. "We're supposed to duel, you insolent—"

Another shot whizzed past her hair, silencing her tirade. Bellatrix looked bewildered, as though she couldn't comprehend why Harry wasn't playing by the traditional wizarding rules. She glanced nervously at her wand. "I—I'll get you yet, Potter!"

"Yeah, yeah," Harry muttered, reloading with the speed of someone who had practiced this far too often. "Let me know how that works out for you."

Bellatrix fled (it was a strategic retreat, she swears!), vanishing into the castle with a final, frustrated scream.

As Harry and Voldemort circled each other in the Great Hall, the tension was high. The Death Eaters, once menacing and confident, now stood frozen in utter disbelief. They'd never seen anything like this. Harry Potter, ducking spells with casual ease, rolling out of the way of Killing Curses like they were slow-motion beach balls, and, most absurdly, firing his Colt with an almost frightening accuracy. The gun was doing far more damage than any wand ever could.

Voldemort, now visibly frustrated, hissed through clenched teeth. "You think you've won, Potter?" His red eyes burned with fury, the frustration of multiple failed attempts to kill a teenager really starting to get to him. "You've destroyed nothing!"
Harry casually holstered his Colt, leaning against a nearby pillar like he had all the time in the world. "Nothing? You sure about that, Tom? Pretty sure I've been busy lately."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed, his wand shaking in his pale hand. "What are you talking about, Potter?"

Harry let out a theatrical sigh, clearly unimpressed. "Alright, let's go through the list, shall we? First of all, that stupid diary of yours."

Voldemort flinched, but Harry didn't slow down. "Yeah, I shot it. Twice, actually. Ink splattered everywhere, looked like one of those Rorschach tests. Pretty sure I've got PTSD from that, but you know, it's cool. That's one down."

The Death Eaters exchanged nervous glances, and even Voldemort's hand twitched.

Harry held up a finger. "Next up, your granddaddy's ring. You know, the one you thought no one would find? Shot that thing clean through the stone. Got a bullseye on the first try." He grinned. "Turns out Horcruxes aren't bulletproof."

Voldemort's lip curled, but he stayed silent, unwilling to admit how stupid it was to leave a powerful dark object lying around.

"And then there's the locket," Harry continued, lifting another finger. "Took a while to track it down, but once I did? Pop! Right through the chain. You should've seen the tiny piece of soul in there screaming like a bad CGI effect from an 80s movie. Good times."

The Death Eaters were now shuffling awkwardly, clearly realizing their master wasn't as invincible as he'd led them to believe. Voldemort, for his part, was starting to look a little pale… well, paler.

"Then we've got the cup," Harry said, holding up four fingers. "Helga Hufflepuff's little treasure. Found it in Bellatrix's vault. And guess what I did, Tom? That's right—pew pew—two clean shots, right through the handles. You should really invest in better security for your soul fragments. Gringotts was a joke."

Voldemort's sneer faltered for the briefest of moments, but Harry wasn't done.

"Diadem of Ravenclaw? Yeah, shot that too. Room of Requirement was burning, but I found it just in time. Boom! One shot. Your fancy crown didn't stand a chance."

At this point, Voldemort was visibly shaking. "This… this is absurd! A gun! You cannot possibly—"

"Oh, and Nagini," Harry interrupted, clearly enjoying himself now. "Your big snake? Yeah, sorry, but I shot her. Three times, actually—once in the head, twice just for good measure. You know, in case Horcruxes are like zombies. I mean, who knows? Gotta make sure."

Voldemort's face contorted into a mix of horror and fury. His voice cracked. "No! No! You lie!"

Harry smiled. "Nah, Tom, not lying. You've been too busy doing your evil overlord monologues to notice. But yeah, I've been systematically blowing up your soul pieces with my gun."

He pulled out the Colt again and gave it a little twirl. "Really makes you wonder, doesn't it? You spent all those years studying dark magic, making Horcruxes, and all it took was a guy with a Muggle weapon to ruin your entire plan."

Voldemort's eyes widened, and for the first time, real fear flashed across his gaunt features. "No… no, this is not how it was meant to end!"

"Well," Harry said, shrugging, "I guess you should've brought a gun."

With that, Harry fired one final shot.

BANG.

That was the end of Lord Voldemort.

As Harry stood over Voldemort's lifeless body in the Great Hall, his Colt Peacemaker still warm from that decisive shot, he felt an odd sense of relief. Not just because the Dark Lord was finally dead, but because something else had been weighing on his mind for years.

Suddenly, a familiar bell tinkled, though no one else seemed to hear it. Out of the shadows, Leland Gaunt strolled into the hall, still dressed impeccably in his old-fashioned suit, looking utterly out of place amid the rubble and debris.

"Well, well, Mr. Potter," Gaunt said with a sly smile, clapping his gloved hands slowly. "I see you've upheld your end of the bargain. Voldemort gone, just as I expected."

Harry blinked. "Wait... that was the favor?"

"Of course," Gaunt replied smoothly. "Voldemort was bad for business. Too much doom and gloom, not enough people looking for needful things." He glanced at the Peacemaker still in Harry's hand. "And might I say, you used my little gift beautifully."

"So... we're square?" Harry asked cautiously.

Gaunt's grin widened. "Consider the debt paid in full. I knew you were the right customer." He tipped his hat and turned to leave, but paused at the door. "Though, if you ever need anything else—anything—you know where to find me."

With that, he vanished into thin air, leaving Harry standing there, slightly bewildered but strangely satisfied.

"Blimey," Ron said, stepping up beside him. "Who was that?"

Harry holstered the Peacemaker and smiled. "Just a shopkeeper. Nothing to worry about."

And with Voldemort gone and his debt to Leland Gaunt settled, Harry figured he could finally enjoy a bit of peace.

The aftermath of the battle was almost anticlimactic. The remaining Death Eaters surrendered, most of them still in shock from the fact that their feared leader had been taken down by a Colt rather than an ancient spell or complex magical ritual.

As the defenders of Hogwarts gathered in the courtyard, Harry wiped off his gun and slid it back into his holster. Ron and Hermione approached, both looking equally exhausted and impressed.

"You… you actually did it," Hermione said, her voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and exasperation. "You ended it with a gun."

Harry shrugged. "Why not? You've got to admit, it worked."

Ron clapped him on the back. "Mate, you're a legend. I mean, I thought you were mad when you first brought that thing to school, but…"

"It does make problem-solving a bit more efficient," Harry admitted, grinning. "And honestly, I'm just glad I don't have to sit through another monologue about how 'I'm destined to die.'"

As the celebrations began and the survivors reunited, Harry looked around at the destruction, the fallen, and the students who had fought alongside him. Hogwarts had been through hell and back, but at least, for now, the world was safe.

Dumbledore would no doubt have some sage advice for Harry about the balance between magic and firearms, but Harry knew one thing for sure: whether you were facing down an army of dark wizards or just trying to get through another school year, sometimes, the simplest solution really was the best one.

In the weeks following the battle, the Ministry of Magic had no choice but to reassess its stance on "non-magical problem-solving methods." A special task force was created, with Harry as an honorary member, to explore the potential uses of firearms in magical law enforcement.

Some wizards grumbled about it, of course. "Muggles have no place in our world!" they'd say. But after seeing how quickly Harry had dispatched Voldemort, most people figured it couldn't hurt to add a bit of extra firepower to the mix.

As for Harry, he kept his wand, of course—there were still things that magic was best for, after all. But his Colt stayed close at hand, a reminder that sometimes, when facing down unspeakable evil, you didn't need fancy spells or ancient relics.

Sometimes, all it took was a steady hand, a good aim, and a touch of good old-fashioned practicality.

HeartsGlow chapter 4 . Oct 20

Cute story. However, you didn't explain how the Diary got into the Chamber without Ginny!

Here's the explanation: Magic XD