Muggle Methods of Mass Destruction

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"Well, that settles it," declared Harry loudly one morning at breakfast.

Ron and Hermione, who hadn't said anything, looked up from their food. "Settles what, mate?" asked Ron through bites of toast.

Harry lay down his eating utensils and wiped his mouth with a napkin. Laying that down to, he said with a certain deliberate calmness, "I know how to kill him."

There was no need to elaborate on who he was talking about. Ron's mouth dropped. "What! How?"

Harry picked up a glass of pumpkin juice and sipped it lightly. He didn't seem to notice his friends' excitement.

"We'll just have to nuke him."

Silence - pure silence greeted him. The many Gryffindors who had been eavesdropping exchanged confused glances with their table mates. Ron was looking at his friend as though he had missed something crucial. The silence was only broken when Hermione, the smart muggle-born witch that she was, laid down her napkin with the same sort of deliberateness as Harry.

She raised an eyebrow. "We can't just nuke him," she said, dryly amused.

Harry shook his head. "No, no, of course we can. I've already decided it."

"No, Harry, we really can't just nuke You-Know-Who."

"Voldemort," correct Harry lightly, ignoring the resulting flinches. "And yes we can. I've got it all thought out."

"Explain it to me then," said Hermione.

"It's really quite simple," said Harry. "We steal a nuclear bomb; we lure Voldemort into some deserted place, and boom! No more Voldemort."

Hermione opened her mouth, and then paused. After a moment, she shook her head. "What about the environment, Harry? Just because You-Know - oh, fine! - just because Voldemort has to go doesn't justify murdering the environment over it. The effects of a nuclear bomb would last for eons Harry."

Harry rubbed his chin. "I hadn't thought of that. You really think it would be so bad?"

"Eons, Harry," repeated Hermione emphatically.

Harry's shoulders slumped. "Alright, I guess we can't nuke him." He sounded genuinely disappointed. Hermione patted his shoulder.

"How about I get you a gun," she said consolingly. "A big gun. You could always try that."

Harry perked up for a moment and then shook his head sadly. "No, that's alright, Hermione. Thanks, though. It was a nice thought."

Nodding her head brightly in acknowledgement, Hermione turned back to her breakfast. Ron and the rest of the Gryffindors, who had been listening in in complete confusion, exchanges weary glances and reached for their food.

No one had managed more than a few bites when Harry suddenly slammed down his fork.

"I've got it, Hermione!"

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Three months later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood looking down at the bits and pieces of Voldemort scattered over Hogwart's pristine lawn.

"Huh," said Hermione.

"I told you bazookas would work," said Harry smugly. He lowered a massive bazooka from his shoulder and blew the smoke away from its end.

"I still don't see how a bazooka is the power of love," muttered Ron.

Harry petted his bazooka lovingly.

"Isn't it obvious? I love bazookas."

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