Kurogane, Fai, and Harry Potter were drinking at the Three Broomsticks.

“So you’re saying that it’s your destiny to kill the asshole?” Kurogane said casually before gulping down his firewhiskey (he really had to bring a case with him, this was good stuff. Some of that oak-matured mead too…but make sure the idiot mage and the kids don’t get near it. Dammit, when will they realize to stay away from alcohol! Maybe he‘ll send some bottles to the Witch to get her off of his back for the chocolate she had ‘given‘ him…wait a minute! There‘s no way in hell he‘s going to send that greedy bitch anything!). Everybody was getting used to his way of referring to Voldemort, although it did give them all heart attacks at first. Honestly, referring to the greatly feared Dark Lord as the asshole.

“Yeah,” Harry Potter said, looking more depressed by the second as he stared at his reflection in his mug of butterbeer. “There are so many people who don’t understand the pressure I’m under, and they all think it’s my duty to save them, even after they’ve been such gits to me.”

“How sad,” Fai said, wishing that Kurogane would let him drink something besides pumpkin juice.

“Well, even if you just forget them all and run away (those lazy bastards should do things themselves for a change), the asshole’s still going to come after you. So you really do have to kill him sooner or later,” Kurogane said bluntly.

“I know,” Harry said. “But even if I do destroy the last Horcrux, I don’t think I can defeat him. He has more than fifty years of knowledge, and he knows spells that I’ll probably never understand-”

“You’re looking at the problem the wrong way, Harry-kun,” Fai interrupted him. “If your opponent has many defenses against magic, then to break through that magical defense, you must not use magic.”

“Not use magic?” Harry repeated, dumbfounded. “How do you expect me to fight?”

“After all the traveling I’ve done, I can recommend something,” Kurogane offered.

“So Harry, the day as finally come,” Lord Voldemort hissed, drawing out his wand. “Are you ready to die?”

“No. Are you?”

And with that, Harry pulled an automatic machine gun out of his cloak and fired.

With four bullets per second, it took less than a minute to shoot more holes in Voldemort’s body than Swiss cheese. When Voldemort fell to the ground, Harry shot an extra bullet in the man’s head, just to make sure. Them he smiled a shark’s smile, and pointed the gun at the remaining Death Eaters. They all screamed like little girls before they Apparated away.

Not as clean as Aveda Kaveda, but just as effective. If thou must kill, thou find it best to use Muggle style. Good thing Voldemort never figured that out. Imagine him armed with atomic bombs!

Fai was right though. Magic wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be.