AN: Hey everyone, this is my first time writing a Captain America fanfic and yesterday was my first time seeing anything with Captain America in it (I saw the movie). So in summary...be hard on me, I'm trying to figure this out and if I mess anything up I'd love to hear it from you guys so that I can fix it. This is a Harry Potter Crossover so I hope you enjoy me stumbling through a mix of WWII soldiers and wizards. I'm afraid for my mind already. Enjoy!
A man in a white lab coat perched atop a small stool, easily brushing thick brown hair away from his eyes, revealing a thin scar across his left eye. He jotted a couple notes down on a clipboard before staring with interest at the blond boy bound to the table in front of him."Your men have been captured, your leader is a naive old man who doesn't have a snowball's chance in hell of winning this war, and the pathetic group of children and retirement home escapees you call an army is pitifully out numbered. Just tell me what I want to know and I'll spare you and your men a lot of pain."
The boy struggled harder against the chains, glaring heatedly at the man, "We're all prepared for pain, we're not idiots and none of us are telling you anything."
The man chuckled and took his glasses off to look the boy in the eyes, "I respect that, I do, but are you really prepared to sacrifice your men for a lost cause? It's all well and good for you to shoulder the pain and be the hero but what about them, are you really so unfeeling that their pain doesn't matter?"
The blond grinned infuriatingly, "They knew the risks."
The man sighed and tried a different tactic, "And what about your family, you can't be older than fifteen. I've seen this before, a boy runs away from home intent on serving his country and ends up out of his depth, his parents left to mourn with only a sheet of condolences able to be shipped home to them. Don't they deserve better?"
The boy shrugged, "My mother was killed in a raid six months ago along with my brother and sister, my father was captured a year ago and found dead two months before the rest of my family, no on left to send condolences to you see. And just for the record, I'm seventeen, not fifteen."
The man had stood up during the boy's answer and was now slipping on a pair of disposable gloves, "Still, seventeen is a bit young to be leading men into battle isn't it?"
"It was old enough to find your men's weakest points and pummel them into the ground, how many did we take out? Seventy? Eighty?"
The man's face turned dark, "What's your name boy?" he growled, hands running thoughtfully over a variety of knives on the shelf beside him.
The boy looked at him calmly, no trace of fear in his eyes, "Alastor. Alastor Moody."
The man stared for a moment before bursting into uproarious laughter, "I knew your father Mr. Moody, I can't believe I didn't recognize the resemblance! Did you know that the last time I saw him alive he was lying on this very table?" The boy was now remarkably pale and growing paler. "He was a brave man too, Alden was, but he broke in the end as all men do-"
"YOU SHUT UP! YOU SHUT UP ABOUT MY FATHER!" he roared, fighting with renewed vigor against the chains, but the man just laughed.
"Would you like to hear about how he screamed Alastor? Would you like to hear about how he begged for mercy as I spilled his blood slice by slice?" Half formed tears were threatening to fall from the boy's eyes as he glared with pure and utter hatred at the man. "Years ago your father and I were friends, but we had a falling out and he gave me this." He said, pointing at the scar across his eye. "I was planning on simply interrogating you boy, but now...well I think it's time I returned your father's favor in kind don't you think?" He bent down over the boy, a small deadly looking knife clutched tightly in his hand. It only took ten seconds for the screaming to start.
"How long do we have?" the whisper cut through the night air, seeming unimaginably loud to the five men crouched together under the cover of a multitude of trees and bushes.
"Two minutes if everything goes as planned." Another man whispered back as he checked his weapons for the hundredth time since arriving.
"So this is it isn't it." A brunnete man who looked no older than nineteen said calmly, staring off into the distance.
"Come on Danny, don't be like that-"
"You've got no way of knowing that man, knock it off."
"We've gotten out of tougher scrapes than this before-"
"Shut up." Danny said calmly, eyes not budging from the horizon still clustered with rapidly fading stars, "You all were okay with signing up for a fuckin' suicide mission but you're not alright with sayin' it out loud? Get real, we're outnumbered by more than I can count-"
"That may have more to do with the fact you were homeschooled by your mother than the odds though." A black haired man quiped, causing the other men to chuckle quietly but Danny just pressed on.
"We have no idea whether the other teams made it through the first barriers or not, for all we know it's five against more than two hundred. Quite frankly I'd rather go in there knowing that I'm going to take out as many of them as I can before I get taken out than thinking I'm going to take out as many of them as I can before I pull back."
The sudden silence was broken by a deep voice from behind them, "You know I was really hoping for a little bit more optimism. How bout we're gunna take take down all of them then we're gunna put up a flag and go pick up some dames with exagerated battle stories?"
The all spun around as one, noticing for the first time a brightly dressed man with a shield leaning cooly against a tree, a couple of men dressed in combat uniforms around him. The men stumbled to their feet and threw their half frozen hands into clumsy salutes. "Captain, I didn't-" Danny started, looking incredibly awkward.
"It doesn't matter. The other teams are in place, we'll be going in behind you and branching off into a different corridor after we get into the compound, we need you to create as much hell as possible in there while we get what we're goin' in there for."
"And what exactly is that?" An older man towards the back of the group asked, pocketing extra ammo and putting a small blade into his belt.
The Captain simply grinned, "An old friend of ours."