Location: Godric's Hollow
British Isles, Terra
Time: October 31, 1981
Spellwork in a hurry is always a dangerous matter. Insufficiently researched work more so, and under the impending threat of assault from the most sociopathic wizard in the last three decades… well one can imagine the desperation Lily Potter was feeling as she hurriedly scrawled the runes about her infant son's cradle.
"He's getting closer," her husband's voice warned from downstairs.
"I know! I need to concentrate!" Lily snapped as she continued to scribe the runes of the archaic spell that her haphazard research had led her to believe would have the best chance in protecting her child from the malignant sorcerer approaching the cottage.
As she finished inscribing the last rune, she wrapped her hand in gauze that was turning red rather quickly, and set the blooded knife aside, not quite paying attention to a few errant drops as she began to blurt out a rapid procession of syllables, mentally praying for the elaborate spell to work.
The room went completely silent except for Lily's rambling chant. No sound seemed to be able to penetrate, which is why she did not hear her husband's last words, nor the lethal retort of his killer. Nothing mattered except the clear yet desperate ranting of spell formulae as a sapphire glow suffused her infant child, then faded as Lily slumped to her knees.
The door slammed open, causing the exhausted witch to turn toward her killer, as her last sight was a flare of green.
Lily's body slumped to the ground as Tom "Lord Voldemort" Riddle walked into the room, sneering at the body before him before looking into the cradle in disgust. "What foolishness.. A child be my death? I don't think so."
Riddle chanted the words to the Killing Curse… and Godric's Hallow was leveled with a blast that did not quite reach that of the Hiroshima nuclear strike, but not for lack of trying. It was fortunate that the cottage the Potters concealed themselves within was far from any populated areas, so the only casualties were Tom Riddle, the Potters and Peter Pettigrew, their bodies vaporized from the force of the magics warring against one another.
Winds howled as the back end of the supertyphoon tore through the woods. The hundred-plus kilometer-per-hour gales tore vegetation asunder and hurled debris about, but they were nothing in comparison to the fury that struck a matter of hours before. No rational human being would be in this area voluntarily, but Rescue Team 72 was not there voluntarily, and many who knew them would not consider them rational either.
The treaded, lowslung vehicle rumbled through the shredded forest, the crew within grumbling, only audible to one another due to the heavily muffled headsets covering their ears to both allow communication with one another and to protect their ears from the shrieking winds.
"We must be idiots, going out in this," a swarthy woman complained, digging through a supply cabinet that she had already checked on three times since they had been dispatched, ensuring that it had sufficient medical supplies.
"You said that three times, Astech Doria," a deep voice spoke from the corner, from a man who towered over any of the the rest of RT72.
"And I will say it again. Who in their right minds would go out in a Category 5? What makes you think there will be any survivors?," Doria stated, glaring at the massive man.
"They're children," the lanky driver chipped in. "We've got to give it a shot. Especially considering what they are. You know the warriors'll go nuts if they lose a whole sibko to a natural disaster."
"I know. And I know they are children. But it doesn't mean this could just be a waste of time at best and a suicide mission at worst," Doria protested.
"Quiet, Astech Doria," the large man said, calmly but firmly.
"Alright, Technician Merin," Doria grumbled, taking a seat and not quite muttering her opinion of the team's recent addition.
"Can it, guys, I'm getting some transmissions. " the driver called, before flipping a toggle on the dashboard. "This is Rescue Team 72 to any survivors, please respond. I repeat, this is Rescue Team Seven-Two, please respond, over."
His hand slid over a keyboard, tapping in commands to lock onto the closest transmission to their current channel, only to wince as a sound came over the channel. Two sounds, the driver realized after listening to it, the howl of the winds, and barely audible beneath it was the cry of a child.
Doria hopped into the seat next to the driver. "You hear what I'm hearing, Jake?"
The driver nodded. "Yeah," he said with a glare at the controls. "324, about four kilometers away I think. Probably running on battery power, I'm not hearing any reactor noise."
Doria nodded as she buckled in. "Step on it, Jake."
Jake put the hammer down as the treads started to chew their way through the mud and debris, turning to the northwest.
Ten minutes later, the team pulled around a cluster of rocks, seeing the wreckage of a vehicle spread across the side of said stone. Merin shrugged a bit in his flak jacket and slid down a visor. "We ready?" he said as he shrugged on a backpack full of medical supplies.
Doria nodded as she undid the security straps and slipped out of the chair, moving to the hatch of the vehicle. "When you are."
The massive man opened the door, the shrieking of the wind intensifying now that the several inches of armor plating no longer protected them from the winds. "It's a mess," Doria yelled as she moved toward the wreckage, straining against the wind.
Her companion was easily twice her height and far far stronger, but had no less of a struggle against the gales as they moved toward the hatch, barely hearing the child inside. Merin's hands reached out for the hatch controls and strained to open the malformed door, prying it open after a significant struggle.
"In his Name," Doria murmured under her breath. The inner walls of the vehicle were a nightmare, covered in blood, vomit, and broken bodies and machinery. And yet somehow, in the midst of the carnage, was an infant, wailing in pain and fear.
"Astech, get the child while I see if anything's salvageable!" Merin yelled over the winds. The woman nodded as she picked up the child and removed a headset from Merin's pack, putting it on the child before struggling her way back to their vehicle.
"Anyone else?" Jake called out as Doria hopped into the vehicle.
"No, it's a nightmare in there. I don't understand how this one survived." Doria replied.
A few minutes later, Merin stepped in and sealed the hatch. "Little, if anything was salvageable. It looks like the discs were in the wrong place. A few of them might be recoverable, but I doubt it."
Doria looked at the child. She was never one for children, but she could not help but pity him. He did not seem too injured, except for a jagged slash across the forehead. "Merin, bandage and antiseptic," she called.
The huge man frowned at the order, but did not argue. Now was not the time for a discussion.
The woman cleaned up the wound, cocking her head slightly. "Huh. Wonder what his name is," she murmured, gently brushing a finger over the jagged wound.
"Bolt," Jake offered up with a slight grin.
"Why not," Doria replied. "Better than 'him' or 'the kid'."
It was two hours later when the vehicle pulled into the Emergency Facility garage. Merin stepped out first, and froze, going into a rigid stance as Doria almost crashed into him, carrying the child. She was about to protest, then froze as she saw the reason for Merin's immobility.
Two men stood before them, and Doria felt confusion at their presence. ChiefTech Gowain's presence, while odd, was at least understandable. But what was a Star Colonel doing here?
"Technician Merin," Gowain prompted, "were there any survivors?"
"Only one, Chief Technician," the man spoke. "The evacuation hovercraft had been thrown into a rockslide. Most of the data backups were damaged, and all were dead except for one child."
The Star Colonel frowned at this. "An entire sibko lost except for one child?"
"One cannot assign blame in this matter," Gowain said, attempting to mollify the warrior. "The typhoon turned inland faster than was expected, and no craft could fly into the area in sufficient time."
"I am not blaming you, Technician Gowain. It is just a pity that so many promising cadets were lost," the Star Colonel said, showing no outward emotion, though Doria thought she could see a hint of mourning in the man's eyes.
Not so hard as we're led to believe, she thought as she looked at the warrior. Though who would not be disturbed at the woeful waste of lives.
"You stated that the records were damaged. Do you know the identity of the survivor?" Gowain asked.
"Neg, Chief Technician," Merin replied. "Almost all of the data discs were broken, and the only ones that could be salvaged were corrupted. From what we were able to match, the child appears to be of the House of Vickers, though most of the genome data is missing."
"That is something, at least," the warrior commented, then tapped a small device in his ear. "This is Star Colonel Jobe," He called out, frowning. "Aff, Galaxy Commander. Neg. I will be report in twenty minutes." He turned toward Gowain. "Carry on, Chief Technician."
As the warrior left, the team looked toward Gowain. "Take the child-"
"Bolt," Doria blurted out before shrugging. "It just seemed appropriate."
Gowain frowned a bit, then nodded. "Very well, Take Cadet Bolt to MedBay and keep me appraised of his situation."
Doria shrugged as she looked toward her crew. "Well that could have been worse," she commented. "Lucky kid," she said as she walked into the facility proper.