Disclaimer: Was always more of a Colt man myself.

Model 29

Harry's face was pressed up against the door of his cupboard as he desperately tried to see as much of the television as he possibly could. After all, it wasn't every day a freak like him got to watch a movie where he shared a name with the hero. The boy watched fascinated as the man on the screen uttered a line that would change the young boy's life.

"Now you know why they call me Dirty Harry, every dirty job that comes along," the other Harry said in a gravelly voice.

It was at that moment, Harry became sure of what he was going to do with his life. That surety grew and grew as the film progressed. His relatives said he was a freak and for the first time in the boy could remember the word brought him no shame, not with the example his fellow freak was providing. It seemed society needed freaks to keep them safe from the monsters in the world, needed men willing to do what needed to be done regardless of little things like rules or consequences, men like the one he was going to become.

Diagon Alley, four years later:

The first thing Harry had done after assuring his minder that he could find his own way back home was to turn around and retrace his steps back into the magical shopping district. After all, there was a very large difference between could and would.

He didn't get much, couple books on dueling and a bit of armor to wear under his clothes. Nothing he hadn't coveted from the moment he'd seen it earlier that day and nothing his minder hadn't forbidden him purchasing. That all changed after he noticed an intriguing sign hanging in the window of a small shop pushed in between two much larger ones.

The bell on the door jingled as Harry walked in causing the shopkeeper to look up from his newspaper.

"You can get anything from the muggle world?" Harry asked, preempting the man's greeting.

"Anything for sale to normal muggles anywhere in the world," the shopkeeper corrected. "Unfortunately, there are a few things the muggle governments watch too closely to say that I can get you anything at all."

"What about a Smith and Wesson forty four magnum?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Maybe." The shopkeeper scratched his chin. "What is it?"

"It's a gun, the most powerful handgun in the world," Harry said. "It was in a movie."

"Makes things easier, what movie?"

"Dirty Harry."

"You can come back in fifteen minutes or you can wait here while I go in the back to make some calls."

"I'll wait," Harry replied.

The man gave a short nod of acknowledgment before disappearing through a curtain into the back of the shop.

"Think I managed to get what you wanted," the shopkeeper said with a grin as he returned from the back room. "Lot easier to find than I thought it'd be; seems they're really popular with American wizards. Hope you don't mind but I got an enchanted one since it would have taken at least a couple hours to get the pure muggle version."

"Enchanted one?" Harry echoed.

"My contact assured me that it functions exactly like the muggle ones, just has a bit of spellwork to make it work better."

"Work better how?" Harry asked curiously.

"You'd have to ask them," the shopkeeper replied with a shrug. "Most of the explanation went over my head. All I understood was that they did something so it won't hurt your ears, something else so that you'll be able to carry and hold it despite how big it is, and another thing so it doesn't kick so much." Whatever that meant. "Oh, and they made it so you don't have to feed it as often." That had stuck in his mind due to how amused he'd been to hear that you could only use the muggle version six times before you had to do something with it, silly muggles, the things they came up with to try to compensate for the fact that they couldn't use a wand. "They included a list of things in the box and a floo address if you have any questions."

Hogwarts Great Hall, Halloween:

Harry sighed at the expression on his companion's face. Magic or muggle, the people were the same.

"I'll go talk to her," Harry said. "You keep at your dinner."

"You sure, Harry?" Ron asked, already reaching for another helping.

"Just be sure to save some for both of us," Harry said, rising to his feet. "I'd wager a plate of hot food will do a lot towards getting her to accept your apology."

"Thanks, mate," Ron said with a grin. "I'll be sure to have one waiting for you both."

It wasn't hard to find the indicated bathroom and the boy confirmed he was in the right place with an ear pressed against the door which picked up the faint sounds of a young girl crying.

"Hermione!" he said loudly, knocking on the door.

"Go away!" was the instant response.

"I'm not going anywhere," he replied. "You don't have to come out, you don't even have to listen, but . . ." his nose twitched as his nostrils were invaded by an unfamiliar putrid smell.

"But what?" the girl asked hesitantly.

"But-" His eyes widened in alarm when he saw what was coming up the hallway. "Damn it, get back." The boy pushed his way into the bathroom and locked the door.

"You can't be in here," Hermione hissed, scandalized by the intrusion. "This is a girl's lavatory, boy's aren't allowed in."

"There's a troll in the hall," Harry replied as calmly as he could. "Now would be a good time to cast any locking spells if you know any."

"What?"

"Probably be best to have your wand ready even if you don't," he continued, doing his best to channel his favorite fictional character.

"You can't be ser-" the girl cut off when something large impacted the door. "Signaculum, clauditis, sphingein . . . I it's not going to be enough," she said, panic tinting her voice as the door splintered.

"Probably not," Harry agreed as he reached into his robe. "You might want to cover your ears."

"Wh-" the girl's eyes bulged when she saw what was in her classmate's hands, none the less, she still hastened to comply with his suggestion.

The massive magnum roared three times as the troll entered the room, hitting the terrible beast twice in the brisket and once between the lights. All in all, the whole situation had taken less then four minutes.

"Are you okay, Hermione?" Harry asked, covering the still beast with his pistol.

"I . . . where did you-"

"Are you two alright?" their head of house demanded, entering the room at a run. "What happened?"

Trembling like a leaf as her body burned off the excess adrenaline, Hermione told the Professor everything; from running to the toilet to hide to Harry's appearance and the troll's demise.

"Anything to add, Mr. Potter?" Minerva prompted.

"Only that Ron wants to apologize and that he should be keeping a couple plates for us," he said calmly.

"I see." The old woman let out a breath. "All I can say is that it's a good thing you had that muggle device or who knows what could have happened," Minerva said, mind filled with images of the usual result of a troll against two untrained children. "Just remember to be sure to treat it just like you would a wand and we won't have any problems, Mr. Potter," Minerva continued. "Don't point it at anyone if you're planning to use a dangerous spell, be sure of what's behind anything you point it at in case your spell can go through things, don't let other people play with it, and do be sure to properly take care of it. Your wand is your life, take care of it and it will take care of you for many years to come."

"Okay, Professor," Harry agreed.

"I mean it, Mr. Potter," she said with a look to drive home her point. "You've just proved that despite the fact that it came from the muggle world, it's no less dangerous as a wand. Show it the same respect you show your wand or I'll have it off you till you to."

"I understand, Professor," Harry said seriously. "I promise that I'll treat it just like I would my wand."

"Good."

"You're not going to confiscate it, Professor?" Hermione asked, shocked to the core at the fact that one of her classmates had a gun of all things.

"Why would I do something like that?" Minerva asked, a bit mystified by the girl's question.

"Because . . . because it's dangerous," Hermione stammered.

"A good thing it is too or that troll could have gotten you both," Minerva agreed, still unsure of what the girl was getting at.

"But . . . but . . ." the girl was feeling more than a bit out of her depth as the shock of just how different the magical world was from what she'd grown up with hit home.

"Most muggles don't think people my age should have one, Professor," Harry spoke up.

"Why not?" Minerva asked, curious about this newest bit of muggle culture and making a note to discuss the matter with the Professor of Muggle Studies.

"They think it's too dangerous," Harry explained.

"It didn't do anything that a wand in the hands of a properly trained fifth year couldn't do," Minerva said calmly. "Why in the world would we be unwilling to trust you with your muggle device after we've already trusted you with something infinitely more dangerous."

"I don't know, Professor," Harry said.

"What age do they normally purchase their own copies of your device, Mr. Potter?" Minerva asked curiously. The old woman examined the item, noting the the size of the stocks in comparison to the boy's hands.

Harry just shrugged in reply, not having a clue about how so called 'normal' people acted after growing up with the Dursleys.

"Most people don't have them, Professor. They're really hard to get since the government restricts them," Hermione spoke up after it was clear that Harry wasn't going to, unable to let a question go unanswered. "Some of them think that no one should have them at all," she added.

"I see," the old woman said in a tone that implied anything but. Muggles, ingenious enough to invent a substitute for a blasting charm the first moment and foolish enough to restrict it the next. The more she learned about muggles, the less sense she made of them. Minerva made a mental note to have that conversation with the Muggle Studies Professor as soon as possible, hoping desperately that her colleague could help her make some sense of the situation. "Before I forget, twenty five points to Gryffindor for being prepared and another twenty for being lucky."

AN: Once made an offhanded comment in a fic about the wizarding world being an armed society or words to that effect. I mean, everyone has and is trained in the use of wands, going so far as to have classes on how to use them as weapons as part of their curriculum. Got me a rather nasty (and incredibly amusing) flame, not sure why that popped into my mind during a particularly slow work day but it did. That coupled with the fact that I've recently seen a few fics in which Harry kills the troll with a weapon he had for one reason or another and then McGonagall starts screaming about how they're in a school and schools are no place for weapons gave me the idea to write this. Figured I'd combine a blase attitude towards an armed society with wizarding dismissal of muggle things and this was the result.

Poorly written line noted by mjihde