Disclaimer: While the plot is my own, the characters are the property of the brilliant J.K. Rowling. Se gap lai nhe.
The Bounty Hunters
Chapter I:
The Rise of the Mercenaries
Throughout history, men have sought to make money via different enterprises and shrewd business deals. As it is, capitalism is the oldest economic system this Earth has ever seen. However, sometimes men come forth to fight, hunt, and destroy their fellows in exchange for a taste of glory and adventure, and of course, for monetary gain. These men are bounty hunters; mercenaries; scum. These are their stories.
In the olden days when war was prominent and money plentiful, bounty hunters were a dime a dozen. However, the world—both magic and non-magic—had banned the use of mercenaries for all reasons. They sighted such trivial matters as the Geneva Convention and the evils of vigilantism. Nonetheless, when the going went rough, bounty hunters returned. It was during the dreadful 1st War against the hereditary Earl of Voldemortshire, Thomas Marvolo Riddle II and his Death Eater Vassals that traditional lawmen failed to do their task. Despite all of the methods of acquisition and entrapment that the Ministry of Magic tried, from allowing Aurors the right to kill rather than capture and offering rewards and incentives to Death Eaters to desert their Lord, and even offering full pardons to Death Eaters who would betray the Dark Lord's whereabouts to the Ministry, the Ministry continued to fail miserably. It was at this time when all was dark that an obscure Ministry Clerk named Amos Diggory suggested that Bounty Hunters be commissioned to hunt the Dark Lord and his followers.
It was with this in mind that Amos Diggory contacted a variety of Lowlives. Most prominently, he contacted a smuggler and Bounty Hunter named Mundungus Fletcher. Fletcher had, after all, been responsible for orchestrating the fall of Grindlewald in the German Alps. Grindlewald had hidden there after a bloody reign of terror across Europe that lasted no less than 25 years and cost no less than 500,000 lives. The majority of these had been magically disemboweled, or had been implanted by giant cockroaches, which tore up the body in an attempt to emerge into the world. Mundungus Fletcher and his apprentice, Albus Dumbledore had traced Grindlewald to the German Alps and Dumbledore had killed the Dark Wizard. This led to a considerable rise in importance for Dumbledore, whilst his mentor shrunk into the background.
Still, it was for Fletcher that Amos looked. He found the disheveled old man in a dusty corner of the Hog's Head Inn in Hogsmeade.
"Oi, Mr. Fletcher!"
"Ar, 'oo are you?"
"Amos Diggory I am, I am."
"What choo want, Mr. Diggory?"
"Right, I'll cut to the heart of the matter, Mr. Fletcher…"
"— Call me Dung. Everyone else does."
"Alright, Dung," winced Mr. Diggory, "I just wanted to know if we might be able to enlist your, er, singular talents for a little task of ours."
"Aye, and what's that?"
"At current, there is a 50,000 galleon price on the head of Lord Voldemort, and a 10,000 galleon price on the heads of his faithful Death Eaters."
"Ah, well—I'm really getting too old for this, sonny. I've been around for a long, long, long, long, long, long…"
"Fine, fine, I get the drift. You've been around for a while." Mundungus was not amused. Picking up his pipe, he inhaled and blew a cloud of smelly purple smoke at Amos' face. Amos sputtered and choked before he regained his composure and said, "Would you like an apprentice? You know, someone that could assist you along your way?"
"Blimey, I may be old and dodgy, but I still know what the term "apprentice" means. I'm not stupid. Good idea, though. You've a head on your shoulder, sonny. That much, I'll give you."
"Thanks. Any ideas?"
"No. I'll look around and fine some young buck who'll do."
Amos turned around to leave the strange, smelly bar when he was struck by an odd thought.
"Dung, what will you be looking for exactly?"
"Some disgruntled lad with high ambitions that have just been dashed, or with a large desire for goods and a small purse. Or perhaps, some combination of the two."
"Ah, right-o. Let me know when you have your posse ready. Let old Dumbledore know too. He's a good man."
Dung snorted. "I'll roast in Hell before I let that two faced pork chop know aught. After all my training, he managed to nail Grindlewald and what does he do? He runs off and rewrites history. He makes himself a valiant warrior who slew Grindlewald in some great duel, when in actuality, he shot him in the back with a killin' curse. True, there's naught wrong in that, but he's made himself somemat he ain't. Now scram b'fore I have your head for that insolence."
Amos fled back towards the Ministry and safety whilst Mundungus drained his final mug of butterbeer. In a fit of anger, he threw his mug at the bar where it hit the Barman in the nose. The Barman's nose broke sending a mix of blood, phlegm, and bone across the supply of drinks.
"What are you playing at, fool. First, you insult my brother Albus Dumbledore and slander his good name and secondly you busted m'nose. That's it. You're never coming back in this bar if you want to live so get your filthy, thieving hide out my door."
With that, Aberforth Dumbledore sent hexes at the seat of Mundungus Fletcher, forcing him to flee for his life.
"Dang," thought Dung. "I chose a heck of a day to quit drinking."