Disclaimer: I was thinking about the discussion on Harry using a gun and here's what got written.
Harry's Hand Cannon
"What're ya doing boy?" Vernon asked with a hint of honest curiosity.
"There are some people I need to kill," Harry's eyes flashed dangerously. "I'm studying to kill them."
"What sort of people?" Vernon blinked, "normal people or your sort?"
"My sort," Harry snorted.
"Wait right here," Vernon rushed off and returned a few minutes later with a small wooden box. "Here boy, take this."
"What is it?" Harry asked opening the box cautiously.
"It's the pistol your grand father carried in the War," Vernon replied quietly. "And around the world before that."
"Why do you have it?" Harry regarded the fat man with no small amount of curiosity.
"Your grandfather gave it to me to give to my son when I married you Aunt," Vernon smiled at the memory.
"What," Harry looked down at the big revolver. "Then why are you giving this to me?"
"Your grandfather was an officer in the Army," Vernon ignored the question. "And did some important work with the Special Air Services after the war, he finally retired in the nineteen fifty's as a Major. He kept his old pistol and gave it to Petunia when he passed away, I was going to give it to Dudley but . . . but I think you'd be able to put it to better use."
"Thank you," Harry was astounded. Never before had any of his 'family' given him anything of substance, "but . . . but why?"
"Petunia would have thrown a fit if she knew we still had that and an even bigger fit if I gave it to Dudley." Vernon shrugged, "and like I said, I think you'd be able to put it to good use."
"I . . . thank you"
"Don't thank me until I tell you the rest," Vernon frowned. "I hate freaks, I can't abide the idea of waving a wand to get around doing a bit of honest work. You say you're going to kill some freaks then you have my blessing . . . just don't let any live that you could have killed, kill them all if you can."
"What?" Harry's eyes widened.
"I'm not expecting you to kill your friends," Vernon gave a cruel smirk. "Just the ones you set out for in the first place, don't show any mercy, don't let a single one survive that you could have killed. If it makes you feel any better, tell yourself that it insures that they can never hurt another person again."
"I . . . "
"Think about it boy," Vernon started walking out of the room. "And take the day off to do it, the yard can wait and I want you do consider what I said very carefully."
Harry spent the day mulling over his uncle's words, on the one hand he was reluctant to become a cold blooded killer, and on the other . . . on the other, he was sure that he wasn't going to win by using tickling charms.
Decision made, Harry opened his door and walked down to meet his uncle.
"Uncle Vernon," Harry called out to get the man's attention.
"It'd better be good boy," the fat man tore his gaze from the television.
"I'll do it," Harry nodded. "But I'll need you to allow a few things."
"Like what?" The fat man's piggy eyes narrowed.
"I'm going to need to order a few books," Harry began. "And I might need to brew a potion or two."
"And this'll help you kill more freaks?" The fat man asked eagerly.
"Yes," Harry nodded. "It will allow me to kill many more than I would have been able to otherwise."
"Then you have my permission," Vernon nodded. "You're also excused from yard work, I want you to spend as much time as you need to on this."
"Than you," Harry turned away and started walking up the stairs.
"Might also be a good idea to start working with Dudley," Vernon called out. "Learning a bit of boxing might be just the edge you'll need to kill one more before they manage to bring you down."
"Thank you uncle," Harry gave a cold smile. "I look forward to learning all I can."
Harry returned to his room and spent the next several minutes writing a letter to Flourish and Blotts, taking care not to mention anything that might not be appropriate for a young boy to ask. He had suspicions that Dumbledore might be monitoring his mail and even if he wasn't why take the chance of giving information to an unknown.
To whom it may concern,
I have recently seen mention of an odd muggle device called a gon or perhaps gun. I was hoping that you would be willing to sell me any books you might have that talk about this subject. I would be particularly interested in any books that deal with past enchantments of this odd device though I doubt that it's important enough that any wizard would bother wasting the time on one.
Sincerely,
Harry James Potter.
Harry looked down at the note with a sense of satisfaction, with luck they wouldn't even know what he was talking about.
"I got a letter for you girl," Harry opened the cage and spent several moments stroking his pet. "Would you be willing to deliver it for me?"
"Hoot," Hedwig bobbed her head and offered her leg.
"It's to Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley," Harry tied on the letter. "Have a good flight."
Hedwig returned about an hour later with a strange package clutched in her talons.
"Thanks girl," Harry took the package. "I was starting to get worried about you."
Hedwig gave him a flat stare.
"Two hours may be fast for a normal owl," Harry smiled. "But you're an exceedingly clever owl and I didn't think that you'd be slowed down by a package."
Hedwig seemed to consider his words for a moment, then bobbing her head she returned to her perch and went to sleep.
Harry tore open the envelope that came attached to the package and began to read.
Dear Mr. Potter,
You were correct when you supposed that the gon was too obscure to write about. I have forwarded the only book in stock that I was able to find on gons and I beg you take it without worrying about the charge. The book looks as if it has sat in my inventory for many years and upon further investigation I was able to learn that it was written by a squib and as such must not be of any value or importance.
The rest of the letter continued on in that vein and Harry tossed it aside, he had finally found a way to protect himself without getting expelled and he wasn't going to waste a moment.
Modern Arms
by Sergeant Major Nigel Smythe British Army ret.
Harry opened the cover and was immediately stunned by his good fortune. The first chapter was entitled 'Simple Potions for Maintenance.' A cursory glance revealed that most of the potions could be brewed by a first year with very few magical ingredients.
Over the next week, Harry brewed several potions. The first was a simple cleaning potion that removed caked oil and dirt. The second was a potion that strengthened the frame. The third potion restored Harry's ammunition to a like new condition. And the fourth insured that he would never lose his new weapon against the dark.
Harry carefully propped up his book and checked to make sure that his pistol was unloaded as the book had suggested he do every time he picked it up. Copying the firing stance illustrated in the book, Harry spent several minutes cocking and firing his revolver at imaginary targets.
"I have a surprise for you the next time we meet Tom," Harry smiled. "A very big surprise."
"Open up boy," Vernon pounded on the door. "Looks like some freaks are bothering the people in the house across the street."
"What are they dressed in?" Harry broke open his pistol and began feeding the fat cartridges into it.
"Black with white masks," Vernon glanced at his suddenly dangerous nephew.
"Just making sure," Harry closed the action and put a handful of the precious cartridges in his pocket. "I might be late for dinner."
"I'll be sure to save something for you," Vernon gave a sadistic smile. "Give 'em hell boy."
"Stay inside," Harry shoved the pistol in his belt and headed for the front door. "I think you'll be safe here."
Harry crept out the front door and immediately became aware of half an Order guard's whispered call for help.
Ignoring the man, Harry fixed his eyes on the group terrorising the people across the street and nearly fainted in relief. For one thing, there couldn't be more then four of them. For another, there didn't appear to be any inner circle members. It looked like a group of new recruits had come to his neighborhood by chance, Harry was going to make sure they didn't survive such a fatal mistake.
Pulling the heavy pistol out of his belt, Harry concealed it behind his leg and approached the group at a fast walk.
"What do we have here?" One of the death eaters noticed as Harry came with in a few feet. "Another vic . . ."
Harry raised the revolver and put a bullet into the man's throat, silencing him forever. Two of the other death eaters stared down at their bleeding comrade with identical looks of shock, this wasn't the way things were supposed to happen, people weren't supposed to fight back, no one was supposed to get hurt . . . well, no one of importance.
The third death eater whipped his wand out and shot two quick curses, Harry retaliated by showing once again that accuracy was more important then speed in a gunfight by putting his next bullet in the man's chest.
"Oh g . . ." Harry's third bullet shattered the man's jaw and his fourth entered right below the left eye.
The last death eater raised his wand with a trembling hand and died as Harry's fifth and final bullet entered the man's chest and shredded his heart.
From start to finish, the fight had been over in less then six seconds.
"Bloody hell," Harry spun to engage the man behind him. "IT'S ME, I'M ORDER I'M ORDER."
Harry shoved the pistol back into his belt and clenched his hands to stop their shaking.
"Is help going to come soon?" Harry asked after he managed to suppress his stomach's desire to empty itself.
"Y . . . yes," the man removed his invisibility cloak and stared down at the death eaters in shock. "What did you do to them?"
"The same thing they would have done to me," Harry replied evenly. "Only I didn't prolong it as much as they would have."
"Bloody hell," the man repeated himself. "I don't . . ."
"Are you alright Harry?" Dumbledore called out, the Order had arrived.
"I'm fine," Harry nodded.
"What happened to the death eaters?" The Headmaster stared down in shock.
"I killed them," Harry answered bluntly. "I don't think they were here for me though."
"How could you do something like this Harry?" Dumbledore removed one of the masks, "they're just children, not much older than you are. Why couldn't you have taken them alive?"
"Why should I take them alive?" Harry looked down at the bodies without a hint of remorse, "they would've done the same to me."
"If we had taken them alive they might have changed," Dumbledore explained. "Even if they had gotten away, we still might have been able to bring them back into the light."
"I don't care about them," Harry's temper was beginning to fray. "I'd rather think about other people."
"What other people?" The Headmaster challenged.
"The ones I've saved," Harry snarled. "Like it or not, those are four death eaters that will never hurt another person."
"You can't just go around killing people," the Headmaster tried his kindly grandfather voice. "There are more civilized ways of dealing with things."
"Like what?" Harry challenged, "waiting until the realize the error of their ways? Hoping that the great Phoenix will come and make everything better?"
A ragged cheer from one of the watchers clued Harry to the large crowd that had come to watch the confrontation, including the Minister and several reporters.
"Harry," the Headmaster began gently. "You need to control your anger, I remember another angry young wizard that came to Hogwarts a few years ago . . . I don't want you to end up like he did."
"We're through." Harry wasn't going to take it anymore. "There is no more you and me old man, we are done with each other."
"We're not finished with this conversation Harry," the Headmaster kept his normal look of serenity.
"May I have everyone's attention," Harry called out ignoring the headmaster. "I'm ready to give my statement."
Reporters and ministry officials flocked to hear his word. Reporters clutched their quills and Fudge stood proudly at his shoulder.
"I killed several people today," Harry began. "But since they were all death eaters, well . . . let's just say that I'm not going to lose any sleep over it. I've been fighting Voldemort since I entered the wizarding world and so far as I'm concerned this is just the latest in a long series of skirmishes."
"Mr. Potter," one of the reporters waved his hands to get attention. "What are your plans now?"
"My plans," Harry smiled. "Are to leave the wizarding world, the last year has shown me what you truly think of me . . . an attention seeking boy is what your paper called me isn't it? From now on the wizarding world can rot for all I care, so long as Voldemort leaves me alone then I have no reason to take an active role in his defeat . . . if you want my help, then you'll have to pay me quite a bit for it."
"You can't be serious," one of the reporters managed to do more then stare in shock. "You can't abandon us like that."
"Why not?" Harry shrugged, "you all abandoned me. So long as Voldemort leaves me alone then I will leave him alone, I would like to add that it would also be in his best interests to leave the muggle world alone."
"Why should he leave the muggles alone?" The reporter clung to his professionalism.
"Because there are more of them and they are better at killing," Harry laughed. "I suggest you look up the Manhattan Project if you doubt me."
"What is the Manhattan Project?"
"Do your job," Harry smiled. "I'm not going to do it for you."
"One last question Mr. Potter," the reporter swallowed. "Why do you think we should pay you to help us?"
"I'd be just as happy if you didn't and left me alone. But to answer your question, why in the hell should I risk my life for you for nothing? I've done it in the past and I would have been happy to be repaid with nothing, instead I received slander. I'm tired of it, Aurors risk their lives and they are well compensated. Is it so much to ask that I be given the same consideration?" Harry took a deep breath and looked around at the gathered faces. "So in summation, kill all the wizards you want, leaving the muggle world alone would be the intelligent thing to do, and if you lot of morons want my help . . . pay me."
Harry shook his head and began to walk away, he had things to pack.
"You can't do this Harry," the Headmaster grabbed him on the shoulder. "I can't let you condemn innocent people to death by your inaction."
"I learned from your example," Harry sneered. "How many people did the Order save this summer?"
"I . . ."
"None," Harry shook off the hand and began walking again.
"You can't do this to people," the Headmaster couldn't believe the way things were going.
"You think so?" Harry drew his wand.
"I know so Harry," the Headmaster allowed himself to relax.
"Watch me," Harry snapped his wand and threw the pieces on the ground.
"What have you done?" Dumbledore looked down at the remains in horror.
Ignoring the Headmaster, Harry entered the house. That fake wand was the best galleon he'd ever spent.
"What do you think you're doing?" Vernon purpled, "you're leaving the fight? You're going to let them live?"
"Didn't you listen uncle?" Harry smiled, "I told them that I'd only fight for pay."
"So you're going to get the freaks to pay you to kill more freaks?" Vernon gave a slow nod, "I think I might be proud of you . . . Harry."
"Thank you uncle," Harry nodded. "I'll be going, you might be safe here but . . ."
"But it might be a good idea to take that overseas transfer," Vernon nodded. "Goodbye boy, I doubt we'll ever see each other again."
"I'll try to remember to send newspaper clippings every time I kill some more of them," Harry smiled. "I'm afraid that they'll be my sort of newspaper though."
"Appreciate it boy," Vernon nodded. "And I'll be happy to read them, even if they are . . . your sort of paper."
Harry nodded and began walking up the stairs, he had things to pack.
The first thing that Harry did upon returning to his room was to clean and reload his revolver, the book had stressed the need to immediately clean after firing and Harry did not know enough to take the chance of delaying for a few hours. Harry made sure to take his time and get everything in the room that belonged to him and after a moment of thought he included the books that his cousin never read, waste not want not.
Dragging his heavy trunk behind, Harry walked out into the street and watched for a few seconds as the Minister of Magic was mobbed by reporters, all demanding to know what he had done to drive the savior of the wizarding world away. Turning his head, he watched for a few more seconds as the Order gathered around the Headmaster like a group of sheep seeking comfort from the storm.
Shaking his head, Harry began dragging his heavy trunk up the street, he wasn't going to stay here a moment longer then he had to.
"Hello Harry," Rita had noticed the young hero's return and she had no intention of passing up the chance to get a better story. "Care to answer a few questions for me?"
"Which newspaper?" Harry didn't bother to look at the woman, he was past the point of caring about niceties.
"I'm still at the Quibbler," Rita answered quickly.
"On a few conditions," Harry nodded. "You only send this to the Quibbler, if they want more then they go through the Lovegoods. You report what I say accurately, one embellishment and I'll never give you so much as the time of day after this. And finally, you cast a featherlight charm on my trunk."
"A featherlight charm?"
"It's heavy and I don't like having to move it," Harry replied quickly. "Well?"
"Yes," Rita nodded. "Of course, I'll agree to your conditions."
"Good," Harry smiled. "You have until I decide to summon the Knight Bus . . . I'll need to ask you to use your wand for that."
"Why?"
"I'm sure a reporter as skilled as yourself will manage to figure it out," Harry smirked. "First question."
"Could we get around this corner first?" Rita looked back nervously, "I'd rather not have to share you with the other reporters."
"As you like," Harry nodded. "About that featherlight charm . . ."
"Of course," Rita quickly cast the charm. "May I ask what your plans are now?"
"Now?" Harry paused for a moment, "I'm going to find a place to live and have a quiet life."
"You mentioned that you'd be willing to fight for pay?" Rita had a parchment out and was franticly writing, "how much?"
"That all depends on the Minister," Harry smiled. "I won't even be able to do it unless he gives the ok and grants me a few things."
"Like what?" Rita's eyes gleamed, she loved making people's lives difficult and she was sure that Harry's answer would make the Minister's life very difficult.
"Well," Harry smiled. "Off the top of my head . . . immunity from the underage restrictions for me and anyone that I chose, immunity from prosecution for myself and anyone I chose, and access to the Ministry's archives and resources."
"Why did you add immunity from prosecution?" Rita looked up from her notes.
"The Minister tried to punish me for self defence last year," Harry waved his hand in the direction of the park. "I protected myself and my cousin from several dementers, and I was charged and tried for it. I don't trust the Ministry and I've lost faith in everyone else . . . summon the Knight Bus please."
"Right away," Rita held up her wand and the Knight Bus appeared with a bang. "One last question, what's your response to the people who say that you're abandoning the wizarding world in it's hour of need."
Harry paused, halfway up the steps. "They abandoned me first."
AN: My version of the 'Harry gets guns' story line. If you didn't notice, Harry did not snap his wand. He snapped a fake wand. I'm not sure how fast I'll get parts of this out, I don't have as large an outline as I usually start out with and I have a few other projects, I'll try to have something out soon.