Disclaimer: Idea and a good portion of the fic predate 'Caer Azkaban.'
March or Die
Time seemed to stop as he watched her body, it was so still and his heart shattered as he realized what that must mean … his best friend was dead. Neville ran over to check but was cut down before he could confirm what Harry already knew. Harry watched as his friends fell one by one until he couldn't take it any longer.
The assorted combatants froze as an agonizing scream that spoke of never ending sorrow echoed across the battle field, as one they turned to face the source and beheld the boy who lived, the hope of many slump in defeat. The dark cheers of Voldemort's followers cut off when the dejected figure of the Boy who Lived straightened his stance shifting it from abject and total despair to something else, something more dangerous. To those watching his every movement screamed of his new purpose, his only reason to remain in the land of the living… revenge.
Harry didn't seem to care about the curses being flung his way, didn't even try to dodge as hex after hex impacted on his battered body. Ignoring his wounds, he went through the assembled Death Eaters, killing them one by one until only their leader remained.
The Dark Lord Voldemort paled as he watched his young nemesis approach. For the first time since he'd been a small boy in the orphanage, the Dark Lord felt fear. Too late he learned the lesson that no matter how much power you acquire, there will always be someone better and there was no doubt in Tom's mind that his death was written in Harry's killing curse eyes.
From her place on the side lines, Tonks watched in awe as the Dark Lord met his end and for the first time she understood what one of her instructors had tried to explain. He'd told them that they must never get into a fight with someone who has nothing to loose, with someone who has lost everything and has nothing left in the world then to spread the pain that they feel.
Tonks shuddered as she watched 'the-boy-who-lived' finish off his opponent. She wanted to go over, to comfort the boy and tell him that all would be fine but she couldn't. Her body betrayed her and she could not muster up the will to leave her place of safety and approach the boy that screamed danger to her finely honed senses.
Harry looked down at Voldemort's body, feeling strangely empty. He didn't understand the emptiness at first. He'd grown up without friends hadn't he, why should their sudden loss affect him so much? Unbidden, the thought that one does not know what one has until it is lost echoed through his mind. Harry knew that he couldn't go back to a life of solitude, not after experiencing the joys of companionship. He didn't even consider finding new friends, it would be like betraying those he had led to their deaths.
With a sob, Harry cast down his wand and took up the one of his defeated nemisis. It just didn't feel right to carry Holly, not after what he'd done.
IIIIIIIIII
Amelia arrived twenty minutes later to find the ministry in chaos. Rumors filled the air as everyone tried to make sense of what had happened.
"Out of my way," Amelia growled as she cut through the crowd. The field Aurors on the scene immediately led her to the cordoned area where the Dark Lord had made his last stand. "Where's Potter," Amelia asked in a low tone.
"No one knows," the field Auror admitted, "blood trail leads to the floo room. He could be anywhere . . . we . . . we don't know why he left ma'am."
"Same reason a wounded animal crawls off," Amelia replied, "to die . . . do we have a trace on him?"
"We did," the Auror said slowly, "but we lost it before it could tell us anything."
"Mark him missing and presumed dead," Amelia said unemotionally.
"Understood Chief."
"Who else did we loose?"
"Not a single death on the side of the angels Chief," the Auror said quickly, "touch and go with some of the kids for a while but they all pulled through."
"That's something anyway," Amelia sighed, "round up the press. Tell them I'm going to make a statement."
IIIIIIIIII
Harry woke up in a strange place feeling better then he had in years. The weight of what had happened fell upon him as he remembered what had happened.
"How did I . . . Fawkes?" Harry asked.
Dumbledore's Phoenix crooned at him, confirming that he'd had a hand in the boy's miraculous recovery.
"You shouldn't have saved me Fawkes," Harry said in a dull tone, "at least then I'd have been with my friends again."
The Phoenix drooped a bit at the boy's statement. He could heal the boy's physical scars but he'd never be able to cure the child's emotional torments.
IIIIIIIIII
It was a broken man who approached the legion recruiter, he had heard that the legion was a good place to forget, a good place to disappear, a good place to die. The legion sergeant behind the counter had seen many such men, men who had lost all reason to live
And after the barrage of tests he was given a simple choice between taking a normal five year contract and something special, a two year contract but of course their was a catch. The recruiter went on to explain that if he chose to take the second option, he would receive his training from a series of pensives and after absorbing the memories and skills of a dozen legionaries, veterans of some of the legion's bloodiest campaigns. Then, provided he was able to survive the experience with his sanity intact he would then be given an astonishing variety of potions, the first series of potions integrated the foreign made the foreign memories taken from the pensive indistinguishable from his own, the second series instilled the reflexes and the muscle memory to insure the skills could be used. And finally the last dozen or so gave him the strength and stamina needed to be one of the legions elite, the first to fight, the first to die. Without hesitation the young boy made his choice, and with that choice disappeared from the wizarding world.
IIIIIIIIII
As Hermione awoke she became conscious of a presence beside her bed, looking she saw the dejected form of Dobby, the small house elf straightened as he noticed her gaze, a trembling arm rose to wipe the tears and his eyes were filled with uncertainty as he turned to speak with her.
"Dobby can not find Harry Potter sir, nothing can hide a master from his house elf but Dobby can find his Harry Potter, Dobby knows that Harry Potter is alive but he can not find Harry Potter sir. Dobby is afraid miss Hermi, Dobby is very afraid."
IIIIIIIIII
Legion Compound Somewhere in Africa: 19 Months Later
Bill looked out across the camp, eyes squinting due to the harshness of the African sun. His work at Gringotts had once again taken him to the Dark Continent, this time to assist in the removal of several curses from the tomb of an obscure chieftain in order to recover several scrolls of ancient knowledge believed to be hidden within.
The influence that Bill's superiors and the importance of his mission was evidenced by the escort to be provided by the commander of the local detachment la Legion Etrangere, better known by English speakers as the French Foreign Legion. His meeting with the Legion Commander, Colonel Dubois had been brief. Upon his entrance to the man's office he had received some disturbing news.
"I am afraid that due to the recent difficulties I cannot spare the men that you were promised, what I can spare is one platoon, due to the danger it will be accompanied by one of my best men."
Bill was dumbfounded, no one had told him that things had gotten so bad that only a handful of men could be spared. Bill took a deep breath, he had faced danger before in his career as a curse breaker and he would likely face it again.
"If things have gotten that bad then you may as well keep your men," Bill said in a firm voice, "I'll travel faster alone anyway. If everything goes well then it wouldn't matter either way, if worse comes to worse . . . well, what can one man do?"
"What can one man do?" The old campaigner laughed. The Colonel turned away his eyes unfocused as if reviewing a memory. "You don't know Lieutenant Riddle, or you would never have made that comment Mr. Weasley, I've seen him do things that no other man could have accomplished." The Colonel's eyes refocused as he once again focused on his present company. "In any case he would insist on going if he received some indication of the danger, and he would be quite annoyed to be kept from it, my aid is waiting outside and he will take you to the security detail." With that the man turned away, once again lost in past memories.
Bill nodded at the man's implied dismissal and made his way to the outer office where a man that he presumed was the colonel's aid was waiting.
"Mr. Weasley I presume," the man said with a smile, "do you have any orders to pass on to me?"
"Yes, the Colonel says that you are to take me to the men responsible for the security."
"That would be Charlie Company second platoon sir." Replied the young Lieutenant, "they are in the barracks just past the parade ground, won't take us but a minute to get there."
"One other thing Lieutenant, the Colonel also mentioned that a man named Lt. Riddle would also be accompanying us." Bill watched bemused as the young officer's face turned an interesting shade of white.
"I will see that he is informed sir" adding hesitantly "good luck sir, if Lt. Riddle is to accompany you then you will need it." The young man managed to stammer, before setting off at a brisk pace. It didn't take long for the duo to reach the barracks where the men were billeted, upon their arrival the young Lieutenant turned to face his charge, "Here we are sir, just enter and identify yourself to the men inside and they will insure that you are prepared for your journey into the bush, I will insure that Lt. Riddle is informed of his role." The young man started off before pausing abruptly to consider something, "Once more sir, I must advise you to be careful, when you accompany The Plague into hell, it is best that you maintain vigilance." Without explaining his last comment the Lieutenant left behind a very confused member of the Weasley clan.
"What are you doing here?" A grizzled old NCO demanded after he'd noticed that Bill was in his area.
"The Colonel's aide brough me here," Bill replied, "I'm supposed to be meeting my escort."
"Ah," the NCO said in understanding, "I know who you are now. Sergent Chef McCoy," the man introduced himself.
"Good to meet you Sergent Chef McCoy."
"Likewise. Best get your things laid out early sir," the NCO advised. "We're leaving early." He glanced down at his watch. "Later today."
"Right," Bill agreed. "One thing Sergeant, before the Colonel's aide left he mentioned something along the lines of being careful of The Plague in hell, could you explain to me what he meant?"
"He was warning ye' lad," holding a hand up to forestall comment, the old noncom continued "Under this command there is a young man named Lieutenant Marvlo Riddle and he is the single most dangerous individual that I have ever met." Motioning towards one of the bunks and sitting on the adjoining bunk the old NCO continued "and he has been gifted with the nick name The Plague, comes from a comment someone made to the effect that 'he's the one man in the world that has more kills then The Plague' and the hell the Colonel's aide mentioned was short for 'The Green Hell' it's what many of the men call the place that we are going, in short he was trying to warn you about going anywhere with Lt. Riddle, because you can be sure that anywhere that Lt. Riddle goes will be the most dangerous place around."
"Really? Bill was intrigued. "Who is this Lt. Riddle, what sort of man is he," Bill inquired.
"Well." Sergeant McCoy paused to formulate his response, "That is not the sort of question that one asks in the Legion, that being said no one knows, the most popular theory is that he is an ex-Death Eater who joined the Legion after the fall of the Dark Lord so that he could continue killing without fear of reprisal." He paused to consider this, "Me, I don't believe it and I should know, before I joined the Legion I was an Auror. I fought in the first war with the dark lord and when it ended I found myself without a job, a family, or a place to live. Peace was the cause of the first, and the war was the cause of the last two so believe me when I tell you that Lieutenant Riddle was never a Death Eater, he wouldn't have lasted more then five minutes before he tried to kill the Dark Lord and that would have quickly ended either the Lieutenants life, or the Dark Lord's and since the Lieutenant is both alive and since the dark lord was not killed by a man named Riddle." He trailed off, "what I do know is that he is a two year man at the end of his contract, you see most of us start our careers in the Legion on normal five year contracts, a few like Riddle chose to sign up for two and the Legion does like to get it's money's worth so to speak, normally you spend six months to a year in a hostile area before being rotated out, two year men never get rotated out, they go where the fighting is and stay until it cools down, then they are sent to some other bush war. No rest, no garrison duty, what this all means that he has survived almost two years of constant conflict."
"I suppose that all this would make a very dangerous man." Bill added, A loud snort suggested a different opinion.
"No, what makes him a 'very dangerous man' is his ability to kill without hesitation, and that's not something you can learn, you got to be born with it." Standing the old NCO added one more pearl of advice, "while you are with us you will hear a lot of stories, I'll trust you to take them with a grain of salt, get some sleep sir we have to leave early tomorrow morning."
Watching the retreating back of the grizzled old soldier Bill couldn't help but wonder what his willingness to accept danger as a normal part of his career had gotten him into. Resolving to think more on it at the conclusion of his assignment, Bill organized his things before laying down to rest.
Bill awoke early the next morning filled with a rush of anticipation, finally he was to do what they'd brought him to Africa to do and the thought that his long wait was coming to an end brought a sharp smile to his face. The harsh metallic taste of adrenalin flooded his mouth and made it impossible to reenter the land of dreams.
Deciding to burn off his excess energy with preparation he gathered his belongings and so as to not disturb the rest of the men who were to be his guards and traveling companions, stepped out of the barracks and onto the parade ground. There stood the scrawniest man he had yet seen in the uniform of a Legionnaire, he appeared to be engaged in the same task as Bill, making his preparations in a location which would not disturb his comrades. Subjecting the man to his scrutiny Bill noticed a uniform faded and mussed, boots devoid of polish, all this was topped off with a wide brimmed hat which looked absurd on such a small frame. Shaking his head in wonder Bill sent a small prayer to the patron of new troops that this wrenched figure has time to correct his appearance before being observed by one of the many non commissioned officers in the area. Shaking his head in wonder Bill turned his attention to the man's features, beholding a face darkened by repeated exposure to the harsh African sun, and hands callused by years of hard labor. Then, as if sensing the scrutiny the man looked up from his preparation exposing Bill to the full weight of his stare, of his eyes, the eyes of a killer of a man who could and would take life without one ounce of hesitation or remorse. It seemed that at last, Bill had met the notorious Lt. Riddle.
"Good morning, I am Bill Weasley, the curse breaker that Gringotts sent." Bill extended his hand in greeting.
"Lieutenant Marvlo Riddle," without so much as a glance toward the extended hand the man rasped his reply.
Nonplussed, bill lowered his hand and continued, "Yes, well I was wondering if you would be willing to offer any advice as to what I should pack for our trek through the jungle?"
"Hot sauce," Lieutenant Riddle hissed in reply"
"Hot sauce?" Repeated the bewildered Gringotts employee.
"Just try eating a human heart without hot sauce. Sure cooking them over hot coals will also improve the flavor, but in my experience you can't usually risk a fire when out in the field, so I recommend that you bring a bottle of hot sauce with you. You'll thank me when you eat your first heart."
Bill's laugh of appreciation trailed off when he noticed no glint of humor in the eyes of his battle scared companion.
In the hour before dawn broke the rest of the security detail assembled and the first rays of sunlight crested the horizon they started off into the jungle, into the Green Hell. Lieutenant Riddle was in the lead and as the rest of the column stopped for lunch he continued, scouting for danger. After lunch it took them two hours to catch up to Lt. Riddle, they found him sitting in the shade of a large tree licking the last bits of his meal off of the tips of his fingers, their relief at finding the young officer quickly turned, weariness as they noticed the corpse at his feet.
"Sniper" Lt. Riddle's voice startled them, "their will be more of them ahead." With that he stood and walked once more into the jungle.
Bill watched as two of the men turned over the dead sniper, his curiosity quickly turned to horror when he noticed a large bloody hole in the man's chest, apparently Lt. Riddle had not been kidding about the hot sauce.
Ahead, 'Riddle' smirked as the sound of a man getting violently sick reached him. It was a prank that never got old, they always checked the body but they never checked the bushes next to it for the missing heart, the marauders would have been proud of him and the one trace of humanity he allowed himself to keep.
Several hours later they halted for the night and made camp, talk quickly turned to the mysterious Lt. Riddle. "He's a murderer from one of the pure blood families, on the run from the law when they found out about his hobby and he came here so he wouldn't have to give it up" quipped one legionnaire.
"You got it all wrong" said another "he's immortal, he's been fighting for so long that he's just good at it now." Derisive laughter met this one.
"What do you know, not what you suspect but what do you know?" Asked Bill eager to learn more about what the strange Lieutenant was like.
Silence greeted his question until finally, hesitantly a scared Corporal opened his mouth. "What he's like' is not easy to explain, I saw him fight once, he had a giant grin on his face like their was no where on earth that he would rather be then in the midst of a slaughter, 'what he's like' is the scariest man I have ever seen in seven years of legion service. You men get some sleep we have a long day tomorrow."
It was mid-afternoon before the reached tomb of the unknown chief, Immediately Bill set to work, the curses were unfamiliar but soon broke before his skill and they had soon recovered the scrolls.
The return to the compound had so far proved to be far easier then the journey to the tomb, the men began to relax as the final leg of the journey neared its completion. The sense of peace was not to last. The first shots rang out when they were no more then a league away from the safety of the Legion compound and it quickly became apparent that they were both outnumbered and outgunned.
As the sounds of battle raged Bill observed Lt. Riddle running towards the melee ordering the retreat, wand in hand he fought a desperate rear guard action. While Lt. Riddle made his stand the remainder of the column made for the safety of the camp over the next ridge. As Bill fled towards the camp he swore to himself that should he survive the next twenty four hours he would return to England he would die on the soil of his birth and not in some stinking jungle, he would return home and never embark on so perilous a mission for the rest of his days. As they ran they could hear in the distance laughter drowning out the sounds of battle, the laughter of a man with nothing to lose the demented laughter of a man forsaken by the gods themselves.
It was dark before the tattered remains of the expedition reached the safety of the camp. While most of the men were content to fall into their bunks and thank any deity that was listening that they had made it through another day, Bill immediately sought out the camps commander.
"Colonel you must immediately send out a rescue mission, Lt. Riddle is still out there."
"No, not while it's dark, I cannot justify the risk for just one man. We shall just hope that Lt. Riddle can hold out until morning." Slowly the Colonel shook his head.
Bill was shocked, where was the vaunted loyalty to their own that characterized most military units. The chance of finding Riddle alive was small enough if they left now and if they should wait till morning … heart heavy he resolved to break his earlier oath and accompany the next day's expedition he decided that the least that he could do was preside over the burial of the man who saved his life.
Lt. Riddle was in his element, the only place where he felt alive was when he was closest to death. They came by the dozens it seemed as if they were eager to die; it was a wish he was all too happy to grant. Time lost all meaning and the small clearing where he had chosen to make his stand became his entire world and after an indeterminate amount of time they stopped coming. There surrounded by his victims Lt. Riddle dropped to his knees and cried, he knew that the injuries he had taken would not be serious enough to allow him to die, he knew that he would be denied their presence for another day.
They left early the next day and it was slow going to the location where they had earlier been ambushed, the men checking every step of the trail for mines before continuing. The smell hit them long before they were able to see the scene of the previous day's carnage. The ground was covered with corpses like some horrible scene of hell, and there in the center of it all lay Lt. Riddle the bodies of his adversary's surrounding him like some sort of macabre ring of death. Till his dyeing day Bill would remember the scene with horror, and it wasn't the blood and the death that shocked him; it was the intense look of disappointment on the young man's face.
"What kind of man shows joy in battle and sorrow in peace?" Bill's voice startled his companions. Silence greeted his question as the men placed the injured Lieutenant on a stretcher and took him back to camp.
Bill's return to England was met with much fanfare and as he stepped off the apparition point he was met by Headmaster Dumbledore and his girlfriend Fleur as well as the entire Weasley clan, Ron and Ginny having taken leave of their studies to greet their older brother upon his return from his harrowing adventure. Tears trickled down his cheeks as one simple fact penetrated his troubled mind, he had survived the green hell and made it home, gathering his loved ones in his arms he wept thanking all that was holy that he could feel them in his arms again.
AN: It's been waiting to be finished but I don't think that's going to happen any time soon. Next part would have Bill talking about what happened and someone telling Dumbledore about a killer with Voldemort's old name.