Disclaimer: La mission est sacrée, tu l'exécutes jusqu'au bout et si besoin, en opérations, au péril de ta vie.
March of the Lost
Note: Part III of the Nothing to Lose story line (Odd Ideas 102, 118) and an alternate version of 'March or Die' (Odd Ideas 99). Idea to combine the stories by Ronin-Masaki.
Amelia's heart sank when she saw the amount of blood the wizarding world's hero left behind. "Any luck tracing the apparation?" she asked half hopefully.
"Afraid not, boss," her tech said tightly. The man checked to make sure no one was close enough to overhear before continuing in a low voice. "With all the junk in his system and his injuries, I'd say it's more than likely he splinched himself so bad we'll never find anything bigger than a finger nail."
"Damn!" Amelia took a deep breath. "Don't put that in your report, mark him missing with unknown status."
"Yes, boss."
"Come directly to me if you confirm anything. I don't want this getting out."
"Got it, boss."
With a sigh, she turned to address her other problem.
"It's him," the Coroner said, not looking up from his work, unable to keep the grin off his face. "No doubt about it."
"We able to keep him dead this time?"
"Question for the Unspeakables," the Coroner replied. "Your tech able to figure out anything about our hero?"
"Missing, status unknown."
The Coroner glanced up from the body to focus on her face. "That how you want to play things?"
"There are other issues at play," Amelia explained. "You able to get anything from his blood work?"
"Go to St. Mungoes, mix every potion they've got with half the things the muggles make. Add a small amount of blood. Not sure how he was able to move, much less fight." The man rubbed his chin. "Any truth to the rumors that he survived another killing curse?"
"Witnesses have him surviving several," Amelia stated.
"We'll use that," the Coroner agreed.
"What?"
"You don't want him declared dead, his bloodwork combined with witness statements that he was hit by multiple killing curses combined with the fact that he was still functional enough to do this." The man waved at the Dark Lord's corpse. "Should be enough to let me credibly state that he might also be able to survive a class four hemorrhage."
Amelia nodded her agreement. "Simmons!"
"Boss?" her aide responded.
"Inform Auror Tonks that I want Potter's friends in my office. Inform the duty squad that they are to back Auror Tonks up should she have trouble fulfilling my command, add that Potter's friends are not to leave before I have a chance to speak with them."
"Yes, boss."
"What a bloody mess," she sighed. There were times she absolutely hated her job.
IIIIIIIIII
Harry awoke feeling better than he had since he'd started his quest. The aches, the pains, the feeling that his body was on the verge of collapse, all gone.
"Chirp?"
"Fawkes?" Harry managed a weak grin, seemed he still had one friend left in the world. "You saved me again."
"Chirp?"
"No, it's . . . I'm going to go away for a while. I'll, you don't have to look for me. Maybe . . ." The boy struggled to articulate what he was feeling. "Maybe we'll see each other again, but I need to be alone for a little while."
"Chirp," the bird drooped. He had the power to heal physical injuries with a tear, mental were much harder.
Harry took a moment to decide what to do next, England held nothing for him. Not anymore. The world was a dark place, devoid of the wonders it had once held for him. It was a half remembered scene from a film that gave him the answer he was looking for.
A wave of his wand turned his rags into work looking clothing and the boy turned to the east to find his fate.
IIIIIIIIII
The recruiting sergeant didn't pay much attention to his visitor. A boy, he gave a mental laugh, dared by his friends to come in. Not the sort he was looking for, he'd be gone in a minute or so with a story to thrill his mates. A waste of time, but a common one for those in his profession.
"Why is it you came here?" he asked with a stern expression on his face.
"I came to find a place to die," the boy replied, staring into the older man's eyes.
IIIIIIIIII
Afganastan, eight years later:
Life was funny, Bill thought to himself. He'd never thought he'd see field service again, not after being promoted into one of the coveted positions in the London branch. Under normal circumstances he'd have been considered far too senior to be transferred back onto one of the curse breaking teams. The discovery of what appeared to be an untouched warehouse along what had once been the most important trading route in the world meant that things were far from ordinary.
"Found us an escort," the expedition leader announced. "Be sure to thank your wife for that when we get back, Weasley."
"I will be sure to do so, Cursemaster Grimjaw. May I ask what exactly I'm thanking her for?"
"She managed to pull a few strings and get us a company from the Legion. Means we've got to give the French a portion of the take along with the right of first refusal, but it's better than trying to go on our own."
"I'll be sure to do something nice for her then," Bill agreed.
"Anything less than a thousand Galleons will be reimbursed, we're also upping your share by three percent."
"That is most generous, Cursemaster Grimjaw. My thanks."
It took them two weeks to break the first layer of wards and another three to see riches beyond any he'd seen in Egypt.
"Higher ups are sending another team, French are sending reinforcements," Cursemaster Grimjaw announced. "Team should be here in a day or two, reinforcements within the hour. Good work, management has told me to inform you that they have authorized another half percent of the take as a bonus. We are all about to become very rich."
Bill was elated. Wealth meant things would be easier on his family than they had been for his parents. Wealth meant the children would have new things rather than worn hand-me-downs, meant there would never be any worry about how the bills would be paid, meant vacations, and savings for the future. Wealth was security.
"Don't count your galleons before they're in the vault," Cursemaster Grimjaw barked. "This place is intact because the locals didn't have the skill to get in. Remember, it's always easy to take treasure from others than it is to find it yourself. Be on your guard, all of you."
Mindful of his leader's words, Bill spent the next several hours on alert to any sign of an attack, only allowing himself to relax a bit after the Legion's reinforcements arrived. Best leave things to the professionals.
The attack was sudden. One second all was calm, the next the night was lit up like a disco as multi color spellfire filled the air. Mortars and machine-guns soon joined the chaos and all was noise and confusion.
Bill dropped to the ground and crawled towards the rest of his team, dealing with the situation was not his job. Not compared to the more important task of staying alive to see his wife and children again.
"Caporal Chef Riddle! Deal with those men!" a distant officer shouted
"Yes, sir!" a hauntingly familiar voice replied.
Bill's wand went through the familiar motions of raising a protective ward as he pondered the voice. A former classmate? Ex-coworker? Someone from the war? Perhaps one of the few survivors of Potter's Death Run? His lips tightened, his youngest brother would kill him if they ever heard him use the Prophet's label for the actions that ended the war, a label that suggested Harry Potter had died with his foes.
A distant laughter raised over the din, one soon joined by a chorus of faint screams. Lamentations from the other side, he hoped, lamentations of men who had found a bigger predator than themselves.
"Caporal Chef Riddle sounds like he's having fun," an unfamiliar voice said dryly, startling Bill.
"Excuse me?" he asked, noticing that one of the guards had joined him in his patch of cover.
"The laughter," the Legionnaire explained. "It's one of ours. Caporal Chef Riddle, death himself. He arrived a few hours ago, always does when the higher ups think there's going to be trouble."
"Who is he?"
"A killer." The man raised his head to get a better look. "You never know if you should be happy or not when he arrives. He- shit, get your wand ready."
Half a dozen men rushed their position, none of them paying heed to the fact that it is considered a poor idea by most military professionals to cross a hundred yards of open field in the face of entrenched defenders. None of them made it to his position, all of them cut down before they made it more than three quarters of the way across the field, the last dying close enough for Bill to get a look at the man's face. Terror. It was then he realized the truth, it had not been an attack but a desperate attempt to escape the monster behind them.
"Poor bastards," the Legionnaire beside him muttered.
"You feel sympathy for them?" Bill asked.
"For anyone with the poor fortune to be on the wrong side of Caporal Chef Riddle," the Legionnaire replied.
Bill caught a glimpse of the man in question the next morning. Blackened with soot, covered in blood, his uniform in tatters, the infamous Caporal Chef Riddle strode into camp like a tiger into a paddock of sheep. Like his voice, the man was hauntingly familiar. Perhaps someone he'd met raiding tombs? Bill did his best to put the matter out of his mind, death clung to the other man, a respectable family man would be wise to stay away.
It took another month before they'd satisfied themselves that they'd recovered every bit of treasure there was to be found. Every one of the original party was in line for a promotion, evidence of just how pleased Gringotts management was by the amount of wealth the bank had received. Caporal Chef Riddle was long gone by that point, reassigned to other more dangerous posts, still mentioned in whispers that told of desperate battles and amazing acts of courage.
It didn't matter, Bill was out of the field again, for good this time. It was unlikely he'd again cross the man's path. Leave that to others, the the new generation hoping to make their mark on the world and to earn their fortune. Bill would enjoy a nice quiet life with his lovely wife and adorable children.
Fleur and the children were waiting when he got back to the London branch. Rushing past the senior managers who'd come to give their personal congratulation, she threw himself into her arms and showered his face with kisses.
"You must promise never to leave me again, William," his wife demanded. "No matter what the reason."
"Not for all the gold in the world," he whispered into her ear.
"Take the rest of the week off," Cursemaster Grimjaw said with a wide toothy grin. "You've earned it."
"Thank you, sir."
They gathered the children and stepped into the alley. It was funny how life worked, he reflected as the children walked into the ice cream parlor. He'd have never been able to conceive of the idea that he'd one day find more enjoyment watching others eat ice cream than eating it himself when he was a child. Now that he had children of his own, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. He shared a smile with his wife while the children were absorbed in their task. All was right in the world.
His pulse quickened as they walked the path to their cottage and he paused to take it all in after stepping through the door. For some reason his eyes lingered on the still portrait atop mantel.
The world stopped. "It can't be," he whispered.
"William!" Fleur screamed as he collapsed, throwing herself forward to catch him. "William! What's wrong?"
"He's alive," Bill croaked, feeling as if he were a spectator looking down at the scene. "Fleur, Harry Potter is alive."
AN: As previously mentioned Ronin-Masaki suggested combining the 'Nothing to Lose' stories with 'March or Die.' Thought that was a good idea so this is what came out. It's the slack season now so one would think I'd have more time to write, one would be correct if not for the fact that I'm wrangling for a transfer. If one thing isn't taking up my time, another is.
Typo by porphyrian_delight
Omake: Ron
Ron was a bit surprised when Bill called for a family meeting only hours after his return from central asia. He'd have figured his brother would have wanted to spend more time with his wife and children before meeting with everyone else. That he had not and had instead told everyone to drop everything and to go to the the Burrow was . . . odd.
Didn't look like anyone else in the family knew what was going on either, Ron noted the curious looks on his face. His eyes settled on his sister in law, aside from Fleur of course. The woman was shifting from nervous excitement to apprehension. Pregnant again maybe? Didn't explain the apprehension unless the woman was worried that her mother in law would start asking her other daughters in law about their own lack of children maybe?
As befitted one of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's best Aurors, Ron settled down patiently and waited for his brother to speak.
Bill opened his mouth to speak several times and closed it several times. Something he thought the rest of the family would disapprove of maybe? News so incredible that he didn't think anyone would believe him?
"What's this all about, son?" Arthur prompted gently.
"He's alive," Bill blurted.
"Who's alive, Bill?" Ron entered the conversation, switching from personally to professionally curious in a heartbeat.
"Harry's alive, Ron," Bill said nervously.
"Of course he's alive," Ron agreed calmly. "What's your point?"
"I mean, I saw him alive," Bill said quickly. "I didn't recognize him at the time, but I saw him on my expedition, I'm sure of it."