A/N: Revised and edited
Chapter One: First Contact
"Ruddy snakes, the lot of them!"
Harry watched from the corner of his eye as Vernon continued to mutter quietly as they followed the tour throughout Buckingham Palace. It was Dudley's sixth birthday, a time in which the shockingly obese baby whale found himself striking a fascination with the current Queen of England. In an attempt to appease their child, Vernon and Petunia Dursley managed to buy tickets for a special tour within the royal family's residence. Unfortunately for them, Harry's caretaker, an elderly woman named Ms. Figg who constantly carried around an ever-present sickening aroma of cat piss, found herself within a hospital due to an accident with a speeding driver.
"These immigrants coming to take jobs from good hardworking men like me. I say, throw them out! They have no business being here!" Vernon scowled within earshot of the custodian who just entered the room.
"Too right my dear." Petunia agreed, staring down the bridge of her nose at the poorly Irishman. "Britain is falling to the rubbish."
Harry frowned. It was not uncommon to hear his uncle and aunt speaking lowly about numerous people. The Dursley's considered themselves as part of the upper echelons of society despite the fact they lived in your average suburban neighborhood. That wasn't to say that the Dursley's didn't have money, Vernon Dursley had a well-paying job, but the salary was nowhere near what one would consider prolific.
As the tour continued onwards, Harry paused and began to stare at the man. Was it pity he felt for the Irish immigrant? How many people like the Dursley's had the Irishman encountered? Checking to make sure he was a proper distance away so that the Dursley's wouldn't notice, Harry made his way to the lowly Irishman.
"I'm sorry." Harry whispered, eyeing the Dursleys wandering further away nervously. "They are like that to everyone." Noting the sudden pause of his uncle as he searched around the group, Harry quickly scampered away to regroup with the tour.
"Boy!"
Harry flinched as Vernon threw his beefy in a false affectionate member, pulling Harry into a tight, on-armed embrace. Smiling in what Harry perceived to be a friendly manner at the tour group, Vernon lowered his head to his ear, his bushy mustache ticking Harry's ear.
"Don't you dare wander out of my eyesight again. Do you understand me boy?" Harry nodded fearly causing for Vernon to smirk as he patted Harry's shoulder, almost pushing him into the polished marble floor. "Good, because I will not hesitate to bring you straight home."
Vernon discreetly pushed Harry aside as he made his way back to his family, laughing boisterously as the tour guide told a small joke about one of the paintings lining the corridors. Wincing as he rubbed his aching shoulder, Harry trailed several paces behind the tour as he entered the enxt section of the tour.
No one had ever noticed that the custodian in the room mopped the same floor portion the entire time the tour was in the room.
Climbing a fleeting number of stairs, the tour continued throughout the multiple ballrooms and dining hall before they finally reached the throne room.
"Ah, and this is where our current Queen resides when she carries out any important acts of duty such of court gatherings or the occasional dancing room. While the Queen may not have as much ruling power as those in history due to Parliament, it is still quite monumental and traditional to keep such necessities in place to honor the Royal Family." The tour guide stated enthusiatically. "Now if you would please folow me, I will now take you all to the public gallery of art that the Royal Family has spent centuries collecting!"
As the tour began to move back to the double doors, a sudden soft rumbling could be felt beneath their feet.
Everyone froze for several moments before the tour guide laughed nervously. "It's all right everyone, there i nothing to worry about. I'm sure the constuction crew nearby accidently ruptured soemthing they shouldn't have." Unnoticed to all Harry began wondering close to the open windows. Soft screams of horror and terror could be heard as people scrambled around on the streets and Victoria Memorial.
"Please please, if you would all just follow me!" The tour guide called, attempting to placate the murmuring crowd.
"Mummy! Make them go!" Harry heard Dudley's whinny voice cry out. "I want to see the Queen! Make them go!" Petunia immediately attempted to hush the whining baby walrus as the group was slowly ushered to the waiting double doors.
Suddenly, without warning, several gunshots could be heard from down the hall. Screams of terror could be heard as the two Royal guards guarding the throne room, immediately unslung their rifles and aimed down the hall as the tour guide quickly attempted to usher the group back.
During the panic, Harry watched as several men, disguised in different colored clothing and black woolen masks, rushed down the red carpeted hall, immediately charging towards the ammassed group. As the tour guide began to close the two large double doors, Harry's last sight was the two Royal guards firing hopelessly at the terrorists. Bullets rained from their rifles as screams and shouts brokered throughout the enraged group of terrorists.
"Oh god, oh god." The tour guide began to hyperventilate as he leaned against the entryway. "This isnt happening, this isnt happening!" A yell could be heard from behind the double doors before it was immediately cut off with a gurgle, causing for a dull thud to echo throughout the throne room.
"Daddy! Make the bad men go away!" Dudley screamed as he kicked his father in the shin. "Do it! Do it now!"
"I cant Dudders, daddy doesn't have his special gear!" Vernon stuttered, his beady eyes flicking nervously to the double doors. "How can I stop those silly men if I don't have anything to do it with?"
"I don't care! Make them go away!" Dudley cried as he banged his pudgy fists on the carpeted floor.
"Would you shut your child up?" A woman cried out as she clutched her husband in fear. Vernon turned and gave her his stink eye causing for the woman to shrink back into her husband's grip.
"Damn, the doors are bulletproof! Get me a breaching charge up here right now!"
Harry watched as families began to cower to the corners of the throne room. Looking out the window once more, Harry watched as multiple police vans pulled up. Police and SCO19 flooded the streets, all aiming their firearms at the palace.
"Where are the Queen's guards? The police?" The tour guide rambled to himself. "Good god, we are going to die here! I don't want to die! I haven't even found myself a lady!" Shouts could suddenly be heard from behind the doorway, causing for the tour guide to stumble upwards and dash to the rear of the room.
"Charge is up! Get back from the doorway! Breaching in 3… 2… 1… Breach, breach, breach!"
An explosion sounded from the doorway as the two twin doors launched from the entrance and towards the back of the room. Fortunately, or unfortunately for Petunia. Right as she was peeking her head out from behind the Queen's throne, a splinter from the blast flew across the room and burrowed itself in her eye, eliciting a loud howl of pain from her thin cracked lips.
Fanning throughout the room, Harry watched in fear as several of the white masked terrorists searched every corner of the room and drag every hostage into the center of the room. Hiding within the small crests of the curtain, Harry managed to cover the entirety of his scrawny body within the fabric, only his shoes being visible.
"Look at the lot of them." Laughed one of the terrorists as he pointed the barrel of his weapon towards one of the hostages who let out a tiny whimper. "Nothing but pigs for slaughter. All acting the maggot as we do O'Donnell's work."
"Damascus, shut your gob you ridiculous moron and search these fuckers for any pagers or other devices." A buff terrorist spoke, adorned with a hooded black jacket. "Not taking any chances with these dogs."
Peeking an eye out, Harry watched as several of the terrorists circled the room, eyeing the hostages carefully as they stripped them of their electronic devices before being thrown back into the center of the room.
"Quite ugly this one eh?" One of the slimmer brown jacketed terrorists spoke as he hefted a whimpering Petunia up. "I don't know about you guys but I think the giant piece of wood sticking out of her eye makes her more attractive. I wouldn't want to stare at her mug all day without something to draw my attention."
A round of laughter echoed throughout the masked group as the man tossed the snivelling woman back into the crowd. Dudley, incensed by the insult towards his mother, stood up and glared at the offending terrorist. Momentarily forgetting his previous fear.
"Don't talk like that about my mum or my dad will beat you up!" Dudley yelled, clenching his fists.
"Jesus, that woman had a child?" The terrorist spoke, staring at his fellow insurrectionists in befuddlement. "By god, where are the standards in our society?"
"Stop it!" Dudley screamed, his face equiviliant to a blobfish. Surprising everyone, he rushed forward and began beating his meaty fists against the man's thigh.
"Dudders no!" Vernon yelled as he reached for his child only to be smashed in the face with the butt of a gun.
"Enough!" Yelled the apparent leader of the group. "Dermot, take care of that blubber whale right now!" Harry's eyes widened as the man pulled the woolen mask off his face to reveal the Irishman from downstairs.
A snort escaped the man's lips as he immediately cocked his pistol before firing several times into the child's temple.
"You killed him! You killed my boy!" Vernon howled as he rolled back to his feet. His face almost purple in rage, Vernon charged towards the shocked terrorist only to receive multiple shots from the gunmen surrounding him. With a loud thud, Vernon was no more.
"Oh god VERNON!" Screeched the sobbing Petunia.
"Fucking hell, this family is overly dramatic." Groaned the one named Damascus as he stomped over and bashed Petunia's head several times with his fists. After several punches, Petunia went limp as her clothing was used to clean the man's hands of blood before being tossed to the ground. "God I wonder how she even managed to give birth to a child as fat as him."
"You!" The leader pointed to another one of the terrorists littering the room. "Bring one of the hostages to the window. Show them we mean business."
Quivering behind the curtain, Harry watched in abject fear as a man pleading no was dragged to his feet and towards the front of the windows. There was a moment of silence where Harry watched as the terrorist placed the tip of his handgun to the man's head as he stared into the crowd of police, SCO19, reporters and civilians. Without a single moment more, a gunshot rang out and the sobbing man's head blew into pieces, decorating the window with a streak of red. Letting go, the man's body dropped to the floor as the terrorist returned to his group.
"I think they got the message." The terrorist spoke with a gravelly voice. "Don't think they will try anything knowing we arent afraid to start executing our hostages."
"And if they do try anything…" Everyone watched as the sound of an wheezing giant reverberated throughout the room as a man armed with a vest rigged with multiple explosives stumbled through the ruined entrance. "We can sure as hell take them with us."
Wandering across the room, the leader sighed as he plopped down onto the Queen's throne before picking up the landline sitting on a small stand besides the throne. Dialing in several numbers, the man lounged in the seat as a small microphone was tossed in his direction. By the time the microphone was placed at the end of the receiver, the ringing stopped.
"London police department, what is your emergency?"
"Hello, police?" The man spoke, tapping his finger upon the table. "I'm afraid that I am in a bit of a situation. You see, I have well over twenty loyal British citizens kneeling in front of me, begging for their lives. I have no doubt you've caught wind of the public execution in one of Buckingham Palace's windows. So if you would please, connect me to the one in charge so we may talk…"
A silence was heard before the voice on the phone spoke again.
"Transferring now." A click could be heard before a gruff voice answered.
"This is Police Commissoner Derram."
"Hello Derram, I assume you are in charge of the police force outside?" The man questioned. "I do hope you enjoyed the little specticle we put on for you." A few laughs were heard from the terrorists as they were no doubt smirking in rememberance.
"What do you want?"
"Such a difficult question…" The leader murmured as he tapped his chin in thought. "You British believe yourselves superior. You had an empire that controls the world. An empire that the sun never sets on. Territories that spanned the entire globe. Then it all came crashing down didn't it?"
A dark chuckle escaped the man's lips as he tapped his foot against the sitting table.
"You see, you British are nothing but a shade of your former self. It is time for change." Whirling into a proper seating position, the terrorist leader leaned forward. "Britain is weak, fragile, puny. You cannot hold onto a nation that once rivalled the entire world. But I am here to help. Give us the Prime Minister and surrender yourselves to the IRA."
"You're insane." The Commissoner growled. "That is non-negotiatable. We are willing to exchange a number of euros and safe passage out of the country if you agree to surrender the hostages to us."
A small tut escaped the terrorist's lips. "Do you realize how many lives you are risking today? Children, fathers, all you send to war to bleed for your country. You could stop this right now. You could save countless families from suffering in grief. Because today, you are not negotiating for a handful of terrorists. Today, you are negotiating for peace between Ireland and Britain. A prosperous nation that could rival any other country."
There was a moment of silence before a click echoed throughout the line. Signifying the end of the phone call. With a shout, the man threw the landline at one of the ivory walls, shattering the device into pieces.
Staring out at the street once more, Harry watched as the SCO19 teams attempt to approach the palace only to take cover when they began to receive gunfire. Peppered throughout the grounds laid multiple bodies. Those of the police and terrorists alike. Was he going to face his death here? Will he ever be rescued? Questions swam through his head as he stared dejectedly at the futile efforts the police made at approaching the palace.
Death was approaching. Harry knew it. Sooner or later they would find him. Either his legs would give out from standing too long or the urge to use the restroom would soon appear.
They say life isn't fair, but few seem to understand. Not Harry. From a young age, Harry learned that lesson. How Dudley would constantly receive praises while Harry watched from the shutters of his cupboard. How Dudley pranced around the playground with his gang of friends while Harry hide in the trees, alone. How Dudley was comforted for any troubles he caused while Harry suffered punishment for his better academical performances.
Now, Harry found himself trapped in a situation that his uncle, aunt and cousin had dragged him into. There was no escape from his dilemma. As Harry sullenly mused in his depressed thoughts, a soft but subtle click caused his ears to twitch. Turning towards the windows once more, Harry craned his neck in an attempt to locate the source of the sound. His eyes scoured the outside surroundings which soon led to him making eye contact with a man wearing a gas mask resting on a ledge near one of the windows.
Raising his hands, Harry watched as the man gestured for Harry to remain quiet before covering his ears. His eyes flickering to where the tour group whimpered quietly as one of the terrorists began tormenting them, Harry raised his hands, indicating the number of terrorists present in the room. Noting the small nod from the man, Harry covered his ears and closed his eyes.
An abrupt crash could be heard as one of the windows shattered before a tinkling of a metal object could be heard rolling across the floor. Despite his ears being covered, Harry could still hear a loud explosion as a sheet of white illuminated Harry's vision from beneath his eyelids.
The sounds of numerous gunshots ringed throughout the room, resulting in screams of terror. Bodies fell to the floor in a shower of crimson rain as bullets bounced off the marble floor. Hearing the crunch of footsteps on shattered glass behind the veil of automatic weapons, Harry peeked from beneath his eyelids to find a man a few feet away from him firing an endless number of bullets into the room. His body language conveying nothing as his index finger held firm against the trigger of his weapon.
The Irish terrorists cowered behind makeshift cover of upturned tables and chairs in a fruitless attempt to hide only to find themselves coughing up mouthfuls of blood from their flimsy cover being penetrated. Slowly, the sounds of gunfire came to cease, allowing for Harry to cautiously remove his hands dulling the sounds of combat.
"This is Blue Group 10-1 reporting in. Hostages are secure." Harry watched as the man who warned him speak into a small microphone attached to his ear.
"Copy, Blue One, fortify your position as SCO19 pushes into the building."
"Roger, Blue One out." Harry slowly withdrew from the curtain and approached the man as he gave several orders for his men to cover the entrance while also ordering the group of scared individuals to hide in the corner of the room, away from any possible gunfire.
"Thank you, sir." Harry spoke softly, gaining the attention of the man.
"Not a problem kid, thanks for the warning." The man spoke.
"Oi, we have hostiles approaching our location Thatcher, get that kid out of here!" A man taking cover by the doorway shouted.
Pushing Harry to the side of the room, the man named Thatcher turned his attention back to the hallway. Not wanting to be close to his screaming and whimpering crowd, Harry returned to his position by the window.
"Contact, contact!"
The four members began to fire their weapons down the hall before taking cover when gunfire began to whiz past them.
"Reloading!"
The man named Thatcher shot up and began firing down the corridor as his teammate reloaded his weapon with a fresh magazine. Firing controlled bursts, the hallway began to pile with bodies eliciting screams of rage. Ducking down, the soldier began to reload his weapon with a fresh magazine.
"Bloody hell, they got themselves a bloody machine gun." Thatcher muttered as he peeked over the edge of the table.
Several loud clicks resounded loudly from the hallway before a whirl of bullets began to spray into the room, showering the throne room with bursts of white feathers from cushions decorating the room.
"I can't bloody move!" Said a soldier as bullets peppered the side of the doorway he was taking cover in.
Another tried to fire from his position from the other side of doorway to help his friend only to receive several gunshot wounds to his chest.
"Mute!" Came a cry when they watched their friend jerking about on the floor.
"Damn it! Get him to safety!"
Harry listened to the cry of the soldiers as they attempted to get to their friend only to get pinned down by the machine gun. Gasping in pain, the soldier named Mute seemed lost to the world as he laid in the wide open of the doorway. It was a hopeless battle. The soldiers sat, trapped, as sounds of laughter thundered down the hallway with marble rubble toppling down from the wall surrounding walls. Peeking behind his pathetic cover of fabric, Harry watched as the men, adorned in black, cowered behind their makeshift cover while calling out to their friend. But that's not what drew his attention. What caught Harry's eyes despite the macabre scene surrounding him, was a small winged sword resting on the shoulder of the injured soldier.
While Harry may have been young, even he knew the insignia of the famous SAS. Excalibur. The sword wielded by the mythical King Arthur. A symbol of the special soldiers that could do what no normal person could. Men that would protect Britain till their dying breath. Men who would step up and face his tormentors instead of cowering in fear like himself.
"Damn it Mute, hold on!" Someone yelled from across the room as gunshots echoed throughout the room. His cries fell on deaf ears as the injured soldier's shaking began to slow.
As Harry stood there watching, a dreary thought crossed his mind. These men were their only salvation. The great wall that protected them from the brutal world surrounding them. If these soldiers were there to save the people who could not protect themselves, who would save them? Unconsciously, Harry stepped forward, away from the wall, away from the pitiful safety that the curtains offered. His mind felt blank despite the vibrations of gunfire and the grisly pools of blood furnishing the room
"What are you doing?" Came a shout. One of the SAS soldiers tried to stand up and tackle him only to find himself forced back from the terrorists in the hallway. "Get away from here!"
But Harry ignored him. The ringing in his ears drowning out all sounds of conflict surrounding the room. A daze blinding Harry from everything except the wounded fighter. Reaching the downed soldier, Harry grabbed ahold of the trembling man and with unfound strength, pulled the soldier to safety.
From the side of the doorway, a soldier rushed over and crouched over the wounded man.
"It's bad." The SAS soldier spoke grimly as he ripped the bulletproof vest off the wounded fighter. "Tore straight through your vest. You have several rounds burrowed into your chest cavity. It's a miracle you are still alive right now."
"How long does he have?" A loud boom forced the questioning soldier to back away and take cover further from the doorway.
Finally, the ringing sounds of the machine gun began to decease. Pulling a small round object resting on his vest. The muscular soldier several feet from the doorway, tossed the object into the corridor. Screams of terror echoed from the passageway before a deafening explosion rocked the palace. Dust rained down from the ceiling as splinters and rubble flew in all directions, pelting people tens of feet away.
"Not long, there's nothing we can do for him now." The SAS soldier besides Harry growled out loud. "We need to concentrate."
"You can't just leave him!" Harry shouted, affronted by the words that escaped the soldier's lips as he reached out towards the soldier.
"Get your hands off me." The soldier snarled as he picked up his weapon. "You may be young and stupid but even you have to realize that there is nothing we can do. This man is already dead and there is nothing we can do to stop it." Tearing himself from Harry's grasp, the soldier took up a defensive position by the doorway.
Without warning, a quivering hand grabbed ahold of Harry's own, almost causing Harry to jump.
"Don't… don't leave me. Don't leave me please!" From beneath the darkly tinted shades of the soldier's gas mask, Harry could see the man's eyes, hazy from pain, filled with terror. With a shaky nod, the man allowed his body to slump down as he continued to maintain eye contact with Harry.
For several moments they stared at each other, the hiss from the man's gas mask growing weaker and weaker. Till finally, strength faded from the soldier's body and the man's hand went slack. The screams from the room sounded miles away as Harry turned his gaze down the limp body of the deceased soldier. Three gaping wounds laid present in the man's torso.
Empty, gone. Unseen to everyone except one. Harry's eyes glazed over as he rested a hand over the wounds in the dead man's chest. With a small breath, a golden hue began to emanate from Harry's hand. For several minutes, Harry remained in this position, unnoticing, unfeeling. With a sudden gasp, Harry found himself torn away and onto the cold marble floor. Three large metal bullets resting within the palm of his hand.
There was no movement from Harry as he stared blankly at the destroyed ceiling. The SAS soldier watching the child sighed before focusing back at the battle at hand. Firing his rifle at the dwindling number of Irish terrorists remaining.
No one noticed as the dead soldier's fingers began to twitch. It was slow. First the fingers, then the boots, all before the dead man's chest began to rise and fall once more. Regaining his strength, Harry sat up blearily. As he turned to the side, he almost screamed as the man Harry had thought was once dead, rose up and stared around confused. Patting his sides in shock, the once injured soldier stared at Harry for several moments in shock. However, upon noticing his fellow soldiers still fighting, he grabbed the gun resting by his side and marched into the battle, shocking his teammates.
Harry however, found himself in a state of confusion. One moment, he was holding the hand of the dying soldier and the next, Harry found himself lying on the floor completely drained of all energy. Shakily attempting to push himself to his feet, Harry found his legs giving out beneath him, causing him to fall to the ground once more in pain.
After what seemed like hours later, a sudden grasp on his shoulder caused Harry to flinch as he slowly turned his head up to meet the mask of the man called Thatcher.
"Just what were you thinking rushing into an active firefight?" The man growled as he shook Harry's shoulder. "You could have bloody died, and I can't have that guilty conscience on my team's shoulders."
"I'm… I'm sorry." Harry stuttered as he stared at the ground. "I don't know what happened. I just wanted to help him since you all helped rescue me. And… and I didn't mean to use my freakishness on him. I'm sorry." The man's grip loosened by a small fraction as he tilted his head slightly in confusion.
"What do you mean freakishness?" The man said confused as he turned his gaze to Mute who was making his way towards them. "What did you do?"
"My uncle tells me that I am a freak and that… I do unnatural things." Harry stammered as he stared at the intimidating man.
"You're telling me your uncle calls you a freak?" Mute questioned. When Harry nodded, Mute continued. "Has he ever hit you or anything?" Harry paused before telling them only a few times causing for the two men to tense up.
"What about your parents' kid? Your aunt?" Thatcher questioned as he stared into the scared emerald eyes of the seven-year-old boy.
"My aunt told me they were drunks they died in a car crash and that I should be grateful that I was even taken into their house to be fed, clothed and watered." Harry said softly as he shrunk away from the two SAS members.
"Bloody hell, are you telling me we are dealing with an abused kid?" Harry watched as the man named Thatcher threw his head back before letting out a soft growl. "Fed, clothed, watered. Sounds like they thought of him as a fucking animal. Where are they kid?"
"Uncle Vernon, they shot him right there." Harry spoke as he pointed to a tub of lard resting in the middle of the room. "And Aunt Petunia was with Dudley." Harry pointed again towards the motionless family of three.
Mute made his way over to the two downed hostages to check their pulse only to shake his head. "They are gone, looks like the bastards got to them already."
Harry was about to speak again when the SCO19 burst into the room to do a clean sweep. Meeting the SAS and the hostages, the teams moved to extract the hostages only to be halted when they attempted to take Harry.
"No, he stays with us." The officer who had attempted to take Harry paused before nodding, rejoining his group to escort the traumatized civilians.
"Come." Said the gruff man known as Thatcher. "I know a few people that we need to talk to." Noticing Harry's hesitation, Thatcher sighed before gesturing to Mute. "Besides, I think he may have something to say to you."