Disclaimer: Chaque légionnaire est ton frère d'armes, quelle que soit sa nationalité, sa race ou sa religion. Tu lui manifestes toujours la solidarité étroite qui doit unir les membres d'une même famille.

La Légion

Note: Part IV of the Nothing to Lose story line (Odd Ideas 102, 118, 177).

The head of the DMLE was more than a bit surprised to see one of her best come in on his day off, the man jealously guarded his personal time.

"Found Harry, Chief," Ron announced. "Need your help to find him again."

"Don't call me Chief!" Tonks said reflexively. "What?"

"Bill saw him while he was in Afghanistan," Ron explained.

"You're sure?"

"Sure as I can be going off a pensieve memory."

Tonks gave a full body sigh, a smile of pure happiness on her face. "Finding out I didn't screw up as badly as I thought I did is more than anyone deserves. What do you need?"

"Bill says Harry joined the Foreign Legion, I need your help to get the French to caught him up."

"Why use a little hammer when you can use a big one?" Tonks giggled. "You got the memory with you? Amelia's going to want to see it."

IIIIIIIIII

The look on his face told Ron's family all they needed to know when he got back. He'd failed, they were no closer to finding their missing friend then they had been before his visit to the Ministry.

"No luck," he said, telling them what they already knew. "Legion won't admit they've even heard of Harry Potter much less say that they have him. Told us that anonymity is one thing they offer their recruits and that loyalty is another when we pressed them, even after we told him Harry wasn't on the hook for anything."

"Maybe we need more pressure," Percy suggested.

"More pressure than the Minister?" Bones had not been happy when the French had said no, not being able to thank her savior had always been one of the woman's regrets.

"As much as we can bring to bear," Percy agreed. "You happen to know what our old Headmaster is up to these days? He may not have the pull he used to, but every little bit helps."

Ron's jaw tightened. "Suppose that's one option."

"I shall talk to my father," Fleur suggested. "Perhaps he will have more luck. There is no need for any of us to have to ask the old man for anything."

"Please do." Ron gave a heavy sigh. "But Percy's right. Every little bit helps."

IIIIIIIIII

Ron paused at the door of the little stone cabin by the sea. His last parting with his old headmaster had been less than pleasant, hopefully the old man would be willing to put that aside and do a bit of good to make up for some of the bad he'd been responsible for in the past.

He gave three sharp raps with the knuckles of his left hand.

The figure that answered the door looked like a walking corpse.

"Hello, Ronald." The old man stepped aside to let his former student in. "I've been expecting you for a long time." He turned and walked into his cottage. "Do you mind if I make myself a cup of tea first? I'd prefer a good brandy, but I can't make myself pour it at this time of day."

"Go ahead."

Dumbledore took his time, doing his best to make things perfect. "Alright," the old man said after taking a sip. "I've been ready for this for some time now. Proceed."

"With what?"

"You made me a promise. I assume you're here to keep it."

"I promised that if Harry died as a result of your actions that I would kill you," Ron agreed. "He didn't, so I didn't."

"Hope is a wonderful thing, but-"

"Bill saw him," Ron interrupted.

"What?" he looked like a man who'd been lost in the desert about to take his first drink in days. "He's sure?"

"I viewed the memory myself, it's Harry," Ron replied.

"Thank you." Dumbledore had tears flowing down his face. "Please let him know that I am sorry and pass on my promise that I will never attempt to interfere with his life again."

"That's why I'm here. I need your help to find him again."

"What?"

"Harry joined the Foreign Legion after he left. The Legion won't admit they have him."

"You want me to help you put pressure on the French government?" the old man sighed. "I'll do what I can, but my influence is not what it once was."

"Every little bit helps."

"You have every bit I can muster to support you in this," the old man pledged. "It will do nothing to make up for my mistakes, nothing ever will, but it will be something positive at least."

IIIIIIIIII

Gabrielle was a bit confused when her elder sister tumbled through the floo. Fleur had returned to England a short time before, choosing to spend the time her husband was away with her family, so it was a bit unusual for her to be back and in such a state.

The young woman regarded her sister, wondering what had put the older woman out of sorts.

"Gabrielle!" Fleur yelled, a wide smile on her face. "My William saw your Chevalier, 'Arrie is alive."

"You are sure?" She closed her eyes and tried to remember the face of the boy who'd saved her in the second task. Her younger self had been devastated when she'd heard what had happened to her hero. Her older self hoped he was well in the same way one might hope an old acquaintance had found happiness.

"I am."

"Where?"

"My William saw him in the ranks of La Légion étrangère. I have come to ask father to use his influence to help pressure them to let him end his enlistment and meet with us."

IIIIIIIIII

Fleur returned with news, perhaps not the news they had all been hoping for, but far from the nothing they had feared.

"With the help of my father and the Minister, one of Dumbledore's old contacts was able to secure the promise of the Legion to pass on a letter despite the fact that they will not admit to having anyone named 'Harry,' 'Potter,' or 'Riddle' in their ranks."

IIIIIIIIII

Harry was going through his equipment, making sure there was nothing that needed repair or replacement when the officer made himself known.

"Caporal Chef Riddle, report to the Commandant immediately,"

"Yes, Sous-Lieutenant," the legionnaire replied smartly. The man headed towards his superior's tent at a quick march, years in the military having taught that it was never wise to keep an officer waiting.

He paused for a second to double check his appearance before entering and making his presence known.

"Caporal Chef Riddle, present as ordered, Commandant!" he said with a sharp salute.

"Have a seat, Caporal Chef Riddle," the officer ordered, gesturing to a folding camp chair across from his desk.

"Yes, sir!"

"Caporal Chef Riddle, I have a message for you."

"Sir?"

"Harry Potter's friends are alive and wish to see him again. If you desire it, a meeting can be arranged."

"You know who I was, sir."

"I apologize for that, Caporal Chef."

"Then, sir, you know what I did and who I did it to."

"Afraid I do. I am also sorry for that, Caporal Chief. It feels a betrayal to bring up your past when the first thing we do is tell you that it does not matter to us."

"Suppose you're wondering why I took his name, sir," Harry grinned. "He told me we were alike once, it wasn't till the end, when the anger was gone and I realized what I had done that I saw how right he was. Sir, Harry Potter was not a killer or a hero or any of the labels people tried to lay on him, just a scared little boy who treasured his friends more than anything in the world. Looking back, I didn't want vengeance so much as I wanted the bastards who took them to hurt more than I did. The fact that I didn't expect to live through it was a bonus, I wasn't strong enough to face the idea of being alone again."

"I was in a bad place when I enlisted, sir," Harry laughed. "Told the recruiter that I was looking for a place to die. I'm better now. I found a home, a family, and a life. I'd have never left England if I'd known my friends were alive, but now? Harry Potter doesn't exist anymore, Hasn't for almost a decade."

"To be sure, you don't have any desire to go back? I have been instructed to pass on the fact that ending your enlistment can be arranged."

"Why would I want to go back, sir? The Legion is my home, the other legionnaires are my family." Harry grinned. "Even the ones I hate. I may have come here to die, but this is where I learned how to be alive again. Wouldn't mind seeing Harry Potter's friends again some day," he allowed. "But that can wait, we've got a job to do here and I won't let my family do it alone."

"I will tell command to pass on that our answer has not changed. We have no Harry Potter, we know of no one named Harry Potter, we promise anonymity, we owe loyalty, we say nothing."

AN: Sometimes I miss it. Would guess it's the same with everyone. You remember the good times, the bad just fade away. Don't think I'll write more of this, but who knows.

I find it hilarious how many people think they found a reoccurring typo in the last part of this. Likely think the same typo is in this one.

OMAKE by Delathen

Contrary to what his comrades in arms might think, Caporal Chef Riddle did not enjoy his work. Like any good gardener, he knew what he did best, and the Legion always sent him to such terribly fertile grounds.

In the moment, in the fire and blood and screams, the staccato of his heart drumming the dance he knew too well, a dance he had grown tired of the day he first heard its insistent beat, and yet like a marionette, he could never quite manage to stop his arm from moving, his lips from forming the terrible words of the spells he knew as well as breathing.

And when it was over, when he saw the same rust-stained soil and burning cloth and wood he had witnessed so many times that each scene blurred into the other like blades on a fan, all he could ever feel was disappointment. Disappointment that he was yet again denied seeing his lost ones in the next adventure.

Yes, the next adventure, for if there was anything Great about it, he knew as surely as the scratches on his wand that he wouldn't be able to see it when it came.

Caporal Chef Riddle did not enjoy his work. But then, the very best rarely do.

Omake for Odd Ideas 23 by The Real Chys Lattes

Harry took the key, ported away, and found himself at the location that his very much not dead but really is dead *wink wink* god father told him to go to.

Unfortunately, when he knocked on the door, there was no answer. He stood there, waiting, knocked again, getting agitated. He began to worry.

And wait.

He rang the door bell.

And waited some more.

With tears prickling in his eyes he turned, then spotted something strange on the stair behind him...

He saw the words written on the flower pot at his feet, "Marauders Rule, Got you, fool! Even in death, witches!"

Potter smashed the pot into the window, causing a cascade of shattered glass to fall onto the grass below. He couldn't see the sparkling shards falling through his tears.

Sirius had sent him one last joke.

One last, very cruel and lame, joke. Or someone had. If it had been a death eater, he would have been dead by now, he realized.

"What, can't take a joke?" came a familiar voice from inside the house. Harry's head shot up, and his wand at the ready, he turned- and hexxed his godfather into next week. Literally. The guy vanished in a puff of smoke and reappeared right where he'd been standing several days later, completely confused.

Harry waited. He had learned some patience just for this.

Harry hexed his godfather into next week again, this time not literally.

Sirius wished he hadn't faked his death.