Disclaimer:

I solemnly swear that the literature and works of the Harry Potter Verse belong to JK Rowling, Bloomberg and Warner Bros. The only thing I own are the one-shot ideas that popped into my head and whatever OCs I would create for them. This is a work of pure fiction made solely for fun, constructive reviews will be welcomed, flames will be ignored. Any references to characters in real-life or fiction are purely coincidental. If I could make money out of my ideas, it would be nice...

Mischief Managed Damn It!

Title: Hawk-Eye Potter (Based on Hawk-Eye Charlie by sakurademonalchemist, more serious version)

Posted Date: 5th January 2020

Tags: Military Harry, Hufflepuff House, Manipulative Dumbledore, Mainly Harry / Susan Bones / Megan Jones, Muggle Military Tactics against Magic

Corporal William Wright sighed tiredly as he trudged through Privet Drive in the cold November night with his duffle bag over his shoulder and his army shirt unbuttoned at the top. He had barely finished his one year tour overseas when he got called back to Britain to deal with some terrorism on the home front that had claimed a number of lives, always with unusual deaths like they had been tortured, burnt, frozen or even dropped dead on the spot with no visible markings. It was only after Halloween that the attacks seemed to have stopped completely and then the police had to deal with party-goers dressed in robes of all things firing off fireworks and stuff. William was just glad that he was able to get home for some rest-and-relaxation. He only just hit twenty-one a couple of months ago yet he felt like forty with all the crap that had happened. With another tired sigh, he took a shortcut through the small path cutting through the bushes leading to his house and fumbled for the keys.

At the first lamp post going off in the distance, he was checking all of his pockets to get the keys.

At the second lamp post losing its light, he found the keys right upon arriving at the doorstep and inserted it into the lock.

By the third, his bag was dropped to the ground and he was hiding back in the bushes, his military training kicking into gear and his drowsiness driven away by alertness. There was something going on and his senses were screaming at him to stay hidden at all costs. He waited until the lights near his house went out before peeking out of the bushes to assess the situation, raising an eyebrow at the individual that came forth from under the cover of the night.

'Who on earth is this guy? A member of the Amateur Drama Club?'

It was not without good reasoning for that question; the old man looked like Gandalf with a major case of color blindness and a touch of senility, what with the purple robes with stars speckled all over it, an odd-looking wizard hat and an odd looking lighter in one hand that seemed to be swallowing the light it had taken from the lamp posts. William was wondering if the man was actually senile when he watched the man turned around to address a cat seated at the old sign board by the road.

A cat that walked up to the old man and somehow changed into an old woman dressed in darker robes herself.

William blinked and rubbed his eyes, then pinched himself hard to check if he was dreaming. Considering the pain, he was not. Somehow, that cat transformed into a woman that looked like an actual witch with the whole pointy hat and robes, all she would need to complete the look was a broomstick.

William would find himself questioning himself even more as he watched what looked to be a giant wearing some furry coat flying a god-damn motorcycle in the air and landing on the ground with the wheels bouncing a few times and screeching to a stop. The giant got off the bike carrying something carefully in his hands and the trio moved on to one of the houses. They seemed to be discussing something with the woman looking and sounding agitated even in the distance while the old man appeared to be offering platitudes of sorts, though William got the strong feeling that the old man was not being sincere, considering how he was looking at the package with eyes that reminded him of some of the more problematic officers he had encountered over his tour. He watched the man leave the package at the doorstep without even a knock on the door to let the residents know of the delivery and then the three left the area in their own way with the giant leaving on the motorcycle (at the sight of the giant flying off, William was considering it may have been the cognac he had with his bunk buddies before he left), and the elder duo spinning on their heels and disappeared with a loud 'pop'.

William waited for a few moments before coming out of the bushes and making his way slowly to the house while his eyes glanced around in quick succession. He was wary about the timing of their arrival, after all the terrorists were supposedly stopped only a couple of nights ago, it would not be a stretch to say that whatever members left wanted one last tragedy before they could be taken down. He would go over to check if it was a bomb before calling it in.

When he arrived at the doorstep though, a part of him was actually wishing it were a bomb, at least he had experience in that. Another part of him was getting angry at the sight before him.

Laid on the doorstep like a parcel was an infant barely a year old, wrapped only in a worn-out blanket to keep him warm on a cold November night. There was not even a wicker basket, let alone a proper carrier to help the poor child retain any heat! From what little he could see of the child, William noted a very nasty looking scar on the forehead shaped liked a lightning bolt of all shapes. He knelt down and picked up the little tyke gently, the motion seemingly making the child wiggle and leaned towards his body for warmth, while dropping the letter that was on him to the ground. Adjusting his hold, William reached for the letter that had the ink smudged lightly from getting dragged on the floor, removed the note from it and read it under the dim lighting, scowling as he comprehended the message.

Some person called Albus Dumbledore, likely the old man he saw, wanted Petunia Dursley of all people in this neighborhood to take care of this young lad because his parents were killed, stating that he must be protected without caring for their opinion and some nonsense on blood-wards?

Yeah, pull the other bell. That was never going to happen.

For the short while he had stayed in Privet Drive, William knew that the Dursleys were one family he did not want to associate much due to their behavior. The woman was always a nosy busybody who thrived on gossip like bees on honey, Vernon was a guy who acted important while selling drill bits and one who enjoyed pushing both his figurative and literal weight around, and the last he saw of the son before leaving on his tour, the brat was looking to be a spoilt nuisance in the future.

Not a conducive environment for this little fellow.

William stood up with the child and made his way back quietly to ensure the little boy was not disturbed too much. It was only after he opened the door and dumped his bag inside that William noted the boy's scent and made him curse lightly. Aside from the fact the boy needed to have his nappies changed, there was also the odd scent of smoke and more worryingly, blood. As far as he could tell after removing the blanket, the infant was not bleeding despite having some blood on his clothes, so either it came from his scar on the head...

Or it came from someone recently killed, likely his parents based on the letter.

William's heart broke even further as the little toddler whimpered lightly as he tried to get comfortable. Considering the timing and circumstances, there was a high chance that the boy lost his parents to the terrorists, and somehow that old man got involved, just dumped him on the doorstep of supposed relatives and expect them to take care of him with veiled threats. There was something going on and he was not sure if he should be asking anyone about this. Should he go to the police to report the possibility of a kidnapping, or perhaps his CO for some advice?

His thoughts paused when the infant grabbed his hand supporting his body, lightly gripping the one finger that had a simple gold band around it. Slowly, his eyes moved up to the lone photo frame in the corridor, the one that showed him in his army uniform with his arm around a young woman around his age with dark hair and in a pale dress, both smiling at the camera without a care in the world.

A small reminder of his lost love before they got a chance to marry a couple of years ago.

She had expressed having children after their marriage and hoped to raise their child together, a wish that was taken away from them with her untimely death. She had joked that a child might drop on their laps without them trying anything in bed, looks like she was right on that aspect.

With a sigh, his jaw was set and a light appeared in his eyes as he looked back to the child in his arms. Looks like there was only one thing to do in this case.

~ooOOoo~

"Ding-Dong~"

"What can I get for you?" The store attendant drawled as she tiredly flicked a page of her magazine. Getting the graveyard shift was almost guaranteed to be boring, with the occasional walk-in being the only distraction. At least she could finish up on her magazines and novels in peace.

"Can you direct me to the section that deals with babies?" That definitely got the store attendant to blink at the odd question and raised her head to find William holding on to the young infant. "I am in a bit of a fix."

"The kid is yours?" William shook his head as he looked down at the infant.

"Not really, some moron decided to leave this kid out on the doorstep in the middle of the November weather without a proper carrier, a diaper bag or even a soft toy. All I found on him was some half-ass note asking the Dursleys to take of the child regardless of their opinion, and there were a couple of veiled threats between the lines to encourage them."

"Wait, the Dursleys?!" The woman yelped before covering her mouth and looking at the infant, who thankfully remained asleep. "You telling me someone left this kid for those people to look after?"

"You know of them?" William raised an eyebrow.

"Know of them?" The woman snorted derisively. "Petunia is a b~" She paused to look again before correcting her words "insatiable gossip queen who would not shut up about any bad dealings just to make herself look good. Her husband is no better being a bigger bully who throws his figurative and physical weight around, and what I have seen of their son, it is a good thing you are there." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Provided it is for a good reason."

"I was coming back from my tour when I saw the old man leave the kid without even knocking on the door, at first I thought it was a bomb or something." William shrugged.

"Good enough." The woman looked closer at the infant, her eyes softening at his features before hardening at the scar on his forehead. "That is a very nasty scar."

"I know, which is why the first thing in the morning, I am taking this little fellow to the doctor to make sure he is in good condition." William agreed with her before crinkling his nose. "Right now though, he needs a diaper change."

"In that case, let's make sure this fellow is at least well-stocked for the week." Being a single mother of two, the attendant knew what to get for the child and helped William get all the necessities for the baby while teaching him how to change diapers. She did laugh when explaining about the carrier with a special compartment to contain any excess waste in the event the diaper failed during travel; William looked at it like it was a bomb ready to set off if Harry took a dump in it.

William would leave the store feeling a lot better than when he entered the store, now assured of what to do to help the child. At the very least he spared the child from being raised by that horse-face bint Petunia. As for the store attendant, she was going to find out more about the people who dared to leave a child on a doorstep on a cold night to the Dursleys of all people. She hated child abuse and she was not letting the little tyke get into any trouble damn it!

~ooOOoo~

It was the talk of Privet Drive for the next few weeks. The soldier coming back from his military tour found a baby at the doorstep and proceeded to take him in. A few of the neighbors came over to see the child with the mothers cooing over him, while some of the fathers who worked with the law helped him prepare for the adoption.

There were however some odd snags that threatened the happiness; When Petunia heard the rumor about the baby meant for her to take care, she came over to his house, took one look at the boy, and practically screeched out enough words to match a sailor as she ran backwards straight into the wall, calling him the hell spawn of 'that woman'. She then stated that William could take the 'little freak' so that her family won't be 'infected by his freakishness'. Needless to say, William, the few neighbors there at the time, and a couple of his army buddies were not enthused with how she described him and the Dursleys found themselves becoming social pariahs in years to come. Not helped when the store attendant came back with someone who worked in the business sector and told them about Lily Potter nee Evans being a successful stock-broker in the financial market and her husband working in counter terrorism. Last William heard of the Dursleys, they were considering leaving Privet Drive for good.

There was also the matter of one Arabella Figgs, an old lady that lived down the street with a lot of cats, who had an unusual interest in the infant. William would also swear that her cats were more intelligent than they should be considering how they would appear at random times and seemed to follow the infant around. Thankfully someone else found it suspicious as well and went to look her up, eventually getting her arrested for supposed tax evasion. By which point William was already getting ready to adopt the infant. When asked what the name would be, the soldier looked to where the infant was chewing on a toy and looking at him with green eyes, remembering the report about his parents and his supposed name, then turning back to the staff dealing with the adoption.

"His name will be Jamie Potter Wright."