Disclaimer: Stabbing people is usually against the law, when possible be sure to consult an attorney before trying anything in this fic . . . or any other for that matter.

Sport And Social

The Taxi he'd hired let Sergeant Mundy out in front of the Regimental building and it took the young NCO a few minutes to get the hang of using crutches with his new legs. He was supposed to be in rehabilitation learning to use the tin legs they'd given him, learning to be a useless member of civilian society. Learning nothing of any importance he'd decided. Escaping from the hospital had been child's play for a man that had been trained to escape from hostile countries, the unfamiliar prosthetic legs had just added a bit of difficulty to an otherwise simple operation. Mundy hobbled up to the door and gave it three short raps.

"Yes?" An old man in a green uniform answered the door, "how may I help you . . . sir."

"Sergeant Mundy, late of the Regiment to see the commander." Mundy replied, "I'm a bit early but he should be expecting me."

"Come right in," the old man stepped aside. "I'm Corporal Parker, late of the House Guards and current member of the 95th Rifles."

"Pleasure to be in the company of soldiers again," Mundy said through clenched teeth.

"It is indeed sergeant," Parker agreed. "Have a seat while I inform the commander of your arrival."

Mundy wondered for a moment if he was making a mistake in joining this group of old men. One thought squashed his doubt, a reminder of the alternative . . . nothing was worse then a discharge.

"Right this way," Parker's whispered comment startled Mundy out of his thoughts.

"Right," Mundy agreed. It took a minute for him to get to his feet but he'd be damned if he'd ask for help. "Show me the way then."

Parker took Mundy down the hall and into an old fashioned elevator. "Hope you don't mind," Parker said gesturing to a cart. "But I've got to bring up the commander's lunch and there's too much to take the stairs."

"That's fine," Mundy replied, hiding his relief. "I wouldn't want to be responsible for making things difficult for you."

"Don't let the Major's age fool you," Parker said as the elevator rose to its floor. "He's a stone cold bastard, exactly the sort we need in command."

"Oh?"

"Trust me," Parker continued. "He'll be one of the best if he lives long enough."

"And we're left holding the bag until then," Mundy finished.

"No," Parker said sharply. "That won't happen, the Sergeant Major is too good for that to happen."

"Listens to his Non Coms then?" Mundy asked with a smile, "better then most of the men I've had to work for."

"A fighting officer that listens to his men and has the sense to know when he's wrong," Parker agreed. "And one of the toughest bastards I've ever had the pleasure to serve."

"I heard he'd been in a couple of fights," Mundy prompted.

"Don't know too much about that," Parker admitted with a frown. "I do know that he got into a fight with a dozen of them and left them all cooling on the ground the day he came to meet us. Knew he'd need help and couldn't think of a better source then the army."

"Really?" Mundy asked with a smile.

"Then he got us uniforms and took us out to the alley," Parker continued. "Group of the bastards showed up and the Major ordered us to kill them all without batting a eye, just asked for a prisoner if we could get one without endangering ourselves."

"Hmmm," Mundy didn't want to commit to anything but it wasn't sounding as bad as he'd feared it would be.

"We're here Sergeant," Corporal Parker announced. "The Major said to send you right in."

"Right," Mundy replied. Straightening his back, Mundy hobbled to the center of the room and snapped a salute. "Sir, Sergeant Mundy Reporting."

Harry rose from his desk and returned the salute. "Have a seat."

"Thank you sir," Mundy replied quickly.

"Didn't expect to see you this soon but I'm glad to have you," Harry began. "Have you had a demonstration of magic yet?"

"I have not sir," Mundy said stiffly.

"Then watch the pen on my desk," Harry ordered. Harry waved his wand and transfigured the ben into a mouse and then back into a pen. "That was Transfiguration, one of the commonly taught branches of magic . . . any questions?"

"Not at this time sir," Mundy said automatically.

"Feel free to ask if you think of any at a later date," Harry said mildly. "I have an open door policy, any of my men can come talk to me about anything for any reason at any time."

"What are to be my duties sir?" Mundy asked nervously.

"At the moment," Harry began. "I'm thinking of having you as one of my trainers. Don't mistake me, my men are some of the best the Empire ever produced."

"But they're a bit behind the times," Mundy suggested. "I understand sir."

"Good," Harry continued. "Eventually, you'll be in my own private branch of Sport and Social. The General tells me that there are more men that were forced to leave the Regiment due to injury."

"Thank you sir," Mundy said quickly. "I . . . thank you sir."

"Was there anything else you wanted to ask?"

"No sir."

"Then welcome to the regiment," Harry said. "Report to Dr. Harper to see if she can't get you pair of new legs."

"Sir." Mundy rose to his feet and saluted.

"Dismissed," Harry said as he returned the salute. "If there is a girl waiting outside, please tell her to come in."

"Yes sir," Mundy replied as he hobbled towards the door. Not a bad assignment, he thought to himself, much better then his most optimistic guess. Mundy stepped out into the hallway and was immediately confronted by a young girl with brown hair. "The Commander asked me to send you in," Mundy said politely.

"Thank you," Hermione replied. "You're the new man aren't you?"

"Yes ma'am," Mundy agreed. "Sergeant Mundy, formerly of the Special Air Service."

"Welcome to the Regiment," Hermione said with a smile. "I'm sure you'll like it."

"I'm sure I will," Mundy replied. "Could you tell me where to find Dr. Harper?"

"Third door around the corner," Hermione said quickly. "Door with the red cross on it."

"Thank you," Mundy said with a nod. "If you will excuse me, I have to get going."

"Have a good day," Hermione replied. With that, Hermione opened the door to Harry's office and stepped in. "Hello Harry."

"Hey Hermione," Harry said looking up from his desk. "Met the new man yet?"

"Saw him in the hall," Hermione agreed. "Seemed like a good man."

"Yes he did," Harry replied. "Would you like to share my second lunch?"

"Second?" Hermione questioned.

"Looks like Parker thinks I need to eat more," Harry explained. "That or he's older then he says he is."

"I'll eat some of it," Hermione agreed. "If all else fails I can always get Lav to teach me a few dieting charms."

"I . . ." Harry was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Come in."

"Moody's here to meet with you Major," one of the men stuck his head in.

"Send him up," Harry commanded.

"What do you think he wants?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know," Harry replied. "But I'd wager that we'll soon find out."

They waited in silence until Moody entered the room, "thanks for meeting with me Harry."

"Any time," Harry said with a smile. "What can I do for you Moody?"

"Got some information for you Harry," Moody replied. "Location of one of the death eater safe houses."

"Great," Harry said with a smile. "But why give it to me?"

"You've been given the task of breaking the insurgency haven't you?"

"Yes I have," Harry agreed.

"That's why," Moody replied.

"I was asking why you didn't tell the Headmaster," Harry said calmly. "You are a member of his little club after all."

"He wouldn't have done anything with it," Moody explained. "At most he'd have had an order member watch it, Albus doesn't seem to understand that information is useless if you don't use it."

"I understand," Harry said slowly.

"Don't get me wrong," Moody continued. "Sometimes the best use of information is to do nothing with it, you'll sometimes loose your source if you act on your information and you have to weigh that against the potential use of the information you get. Confused yet?"

"A little," Harry admitted.

"It's like this," Moody began. "Most of the information you're going to get will be from scouting things out yourself or from prisoners, that you'll need to act on fast. If Voldemort is as smart as he likes to think he is then he'll change things around after he hears that one of his men have been taken so it doesn't matter what you get from them. Information expires quickly, something that could be golden today won't be worth anything tomorrow. So you have to act on it fast if you're going to act on it."

"What's the other kinds of information?" Harry asked.

"Well," Moody began. "There's the kind of information you get by going through their garbage or their mail, the kind you get by finding patterns, and the kind you get from informants. Using any one of these sources too much could make them useless as once they figure out that you're using them then the enemy takes steps to keep you from being able to use them." Moody paused, "I'm not sure I explained that clearly enough. It's like this, you have a spy in the death eaters and he tells you about a raid. You stop the raid and that makes Voldemort suspect that you have a spy in his death eaters, he finds the spy and you loose that source of information. You stopped one raid but you lost your spy, understand?"

"Yes I do," Harry agreed.

"What about you Hermione?" Moody's head swiveled.

"I do too," Hermione replied. "But it all seems so cold."

"It is that," Moody said with an approving nod. "But it's the way things work, you like to read don't you?"

"Yes."

"Look up the assassination of Admiral Yamamoto," Moody suggested. "Another thing you could do is look at how Enigma and Magic were used."

"I have been neglecting my non magical education," Hermione mused.

"So what type of information is this?" Harry asked, "can I use it without destroying it?"

"You can," Moody agreed. "I did a little scouting and I found a few patterns and you don't need to worry about anything but sitting on it too long."

"I understand," Harry said with a nod. "Do you want in on this?"

"Might be best if I were to be somewhere else," Moody suggested. "I'd like to be with you but . . ."

"If you were I might loose you as a source of information," Harry said in understanding.

"You might make me a less effective," Moody corrected. "I might loose a few of my sources if they knew I was passing things to you."

"Then if you'll excuse me." Harry got up and walked to the door. "McLain," Harry yelled down the hall.

"Coming sir," the soldier called back.

"Have a good day Moody," Harry said without looking.

"I'll just take my leave then," Moody suggested, giving a sealed envelope to a surprised Hermione. "Good luck Harry."

"Luck is for those that aren't good enough," Harry retorted with a grin.

"True," Moody snorted as he walked out of the room.

"You called sir?" McLain asked as he walked past Moody.

"Close the door," Harry commanded. "And have a seat."

"Yes sir," McLain replied, closing the door and taking a seat in front of Harry's desk.

"How good are you at room to room?" Harry asked suddenly, "I've got a house I need taken."

"I'm better in the jungle," McLain admitted. "But I can do the job."

"Good," Harry replied shortly. "Hermione."

"Yes?" Hermione looked up from Moody's letter.

"Could you brief Sergeant McLain on our intelligence?"

"Right," Hermione said with false confidence. "Moody . . . it looks like there are between five and twelve death eaters living in a house in a muggle neighborhood, none of them are veterans of the last war."

"Do we know their names?" McLain asked calmly.

"No," Hermione said after a quick glance at the notes. "Looks like the idea that they weren't in the last war was based on their age, they are all in their early to mid twenties."

"Do you have any plans?" McLain spoke up again, "I'd like to have an idea of what I'll be dealing with."

"Just a rough sketch," Hermione said, passing a piece of paper to McLain. "I don't know how accurate it might be."

"Better then nothing," McLain muttered. "Any hostages?"

"None we know of," Hermione replied. "Any other questions?"

"No, thank you ma'am." McLain said absently, refusing to take his eyes off the paper. "How do you want to handle this Major?"

"I want you to pick a small group of men to act as the main attack." Harry began, "have the men dress in civilian clothes and get them as close to the house as you can before you open fire."

"Yes sir," McLain agreed. "Anything else?"

"Not at the moment," Harry said quickly. "Pick your men and I'll take care of everything else."

"Right," McLain agreed. "All I need to worry about is how I'll take the house and who I'll take with me."

"Get to it," Harry commanded. "Hermione, I want you to get in contact with the man in grey and see if he can smooth things with the local authorities. The last thing I want is to loose a man to some jumpy policeman . . . or for one of the men to kill a policeman."

"Ok Harry," Hermione agreed. "Anything else?"

"No," Harry said quickly. "Concentrate on that, I'm going to see if I can get us some magical support. I don't want any of them to escape because we didn't put up some wards."

"Sir," McLain stood up.

"Dismissed," Harry said absently.

"Yes sir," McLain replied, walking out of the room. McLain was deep in thought as he walked towards the Sergeant Major.

"What's on your mind McLain?" Smythe asked.

"Major's got a job for me," McLain replied. "Group of death eaters in a house."

"And," Smythe prompted.

"I suppose it's too much to ask for STEN guns?" McLain said hopefully.

"I'd rather you didn't use them," Smythe replied. "Major's got a plan and it'd be best not to show the other side anything new."

"Alright," McLain agreed. "Then I want a Webley for every man that's going into the house with me."

"That I can do," Smythe agreed. "I'll have a talk with the Armorer, he'll be ready to issue in a few minutes."

"I'll get the men ready," McLain replied.

IIIIIIIIII

"The area's been cordoned off by the local Police," Harry spoke in a low voice. "Wards will go up when you're ready to breach."

"Yes sir," McLain agreed.

"I have sharpshooters positioned to cover doors and windows but you're on your own until I bring the rest of the men in," Harry continued. "Any questions?"

"No sir," McLain spoke quietly.

"Then get me that house," Harry commanded.

"Yes sir," McLain said with a smile. "You want us to tie a bow on it sir?"

"As is will be fine," Harry replied with a laugh. "Off with you."

McLain dropped his smile as he walked towards the men he'd picked to join him on this raid.

"Is it a go Sergeant?" One of the men asked.

"We're a go," McLain confirmed. "One last equipment check and on your feet . . . let's go."

IIIIIIIIII

Max had been a death eater for six months and he could say without hesitation that it was the best six months of his life. He'd never cared much about blood issues until the recruiter had pointed out that it was just another reason to push people around, Max had always liked pushing people around and would be forever grateful to the Dark Lord to allow him to take things to the next level. His first kill had been a muggle, one of the many that had knocked on the door to their current safe house. Max smiled when he heard a knock on the door, looked like he was going to have to add another notch on the handle of his wand.

He decided to play it cool as he walked towards the door, it was always fun to watch the disbelief in their eyes as the light faded. "Yes?" He asked as he entered the door to reveal a hard looking old man, "can I help you."

"Name's McLain," the old man said with a smirk. "Tell them who sent you when you get to hell."

"Wha?" Max began but stopped when he felt a pain in his stomach. Looking down, he was just in time to watch in horror as his intestines snaked onto the ground.

"Tougher then I thought you'd be," McLain said calmly as he grabbed the death eater's hair with his left hand. A quick jerk doubled the death eater over to meat McLain's ascending blade. "That did it," McLain muttered as he stepped over the death eater's body.

The remaining death eaters proved to be no challenge and the raid was over in seconds. "Can't believe they were all bunched up in one room." One of the men said with a grin.

"The weren't expecting us," McLain replied. "And there still might be one or two of them hiding in the other rooms, don't let your guard down. I want this place secure before the Major takes it in his head to come in here."

"Right Sergeant," the men replied. Slowly, methodically they spread out and began searching the rest of the small house. "McLain . . . I think you need to come in here."

"What is it?" McLain asked in annoyence as he stormed into the room. "Get the Major," McLain said with a frown. "Tell him I have something he needs to see."

"Yes Sergeant," the man agreed.

"And tell him to bring the Doctor," McLain called out after the retreating man.

McLain was let to himself for several minutes before Harry walked through the door, "what is it McLain."

"On the ground sir," McLain indicated a shaking woman curled up in the corner. "Looks like they kept her around for a bit of entertainment."

"In here Dr. Harper," Harry called out over his shoulder.

"Out of my way," the old woman pushed past Harry.

Harry looked down at the pitiful figure, "anything you can do?"

"I can make her comfortable," Dr. Harper replied. "I can't promise anything more then that."

"I see." Harry raised his voice, "McLain."

"Yes sir," McLain called out, instantly at Harry's side.

"Did we take any of them alive?" Harry growled.

"A couple sir," McLain agreed.

"What was that?" Harry asked, "I'm afraid I didn't hear you."

"I said no sir," McLain repeated himself. "They died to the last."

"Good," Harry said coldly. "That will be all sergeant."

"Yes sir," McLain said without expression.

"McLain," Smythe caught the Sergeant outside the door. "Find out what they know first."

"Right Sergeant Major," McLain agreed.