A/N: I have no idea what the hell this is, just a random thought that had occurred to me and so I put pen to paper so to speak. #FuckDeathEaters #MuggleSuperiority #ThoseStupidPompousFucksDidn'tKnowWhatHitThem. Muggles Rule, death eaters suck, I have no idea what I've just written but I hope it's funny or enjoyable. Disgruntled Muggleborns whose parents were murdered by Death Eaters are a dangerous force to be reckoned with after all.

Muggle Might

Malfoy Manor never looked so imperious, nor so ripe for the taking either. Being a magical being, First Sergeant Marcus T. Hodgkins of the Special Boat Service could see the tall structure before him as clear as day. The rest of his colleagues couldn't and that was perfectly fine, they were Muggles you see but they were well aware of the existence of magic and all the things in the world they were blind to. After all, this squad had been set up with hunting down rogue death eaters in mind and despite being blind to some forms of magic, they were well aware of its existence and the power Wizards wielded. They sat on a windy hilltop just outside of the Wards' detection range on a cold autumn night. The wind howled through the trees as the squad of five Muggles and one Wizard sat waiting, watching as the manor filled with people on the night of All Hallows Eve. Due to the strength of the Malfoy wards, no one could Apparate directly onto the property, leading to all the guests apparating just beyond the gate and gaining admittance onto the admittedly impressive property via identifying themselves as supporters of the Dark Lord, the wards would then allow them safe passage.

Marcus was a Muggleborn, whose parents had died in the first Wizarding war, orphaning him. He had lived with his Muggle Uncle and Aunt ever since that fateful day when Death Eaters had struck down his parents in their Portsmouth Townhouse. He grimaced at the thought, at least his father had managed to bring two of the bastards down via .44 Magnum round. Now though, he had the perfect opportunity to strike back and what an opportunity it was. Nott, Crabbe, Wilkes, Travers, Dolohov, the Lestranges, even the big man himself, Riddle were all in attendance tonight with the ball the Malfoys were hosting. He would know, since he'd ID'ed them himself just half an hour earlier under the guise of Polyjuice potion, he'd even shook hands with several high ranking Death Eaters himself while impersonating the now dead Corban Yaxley whose body now lay in a ditch far from view. The fact that the Dark Lord himself was in attendance had Marcus practically licking his lips in anticipation for what was to come. All of these fools, who thought themselves superior to Muggles with their ability to wield Magic would get their comeuppance via good old, high explosive fragmentation warheads within a pair of Muggle Bombs.

His CO, Second Lieutenant Patrick O'Shannessy knelt down next to him, eyeing what appeared to be an empty field with no imperious manor obscuring his view. "The target is right here Hodgkins? Are you sure?"

"Positive sir," Marcus replied confidently. "I've used the rangefinder on the center chimney and have jotted down the coordinates. Our boys upstairs won't see it, but a couple o' JDAMs on these coordinates will bag 'em all sir. These Death Eater bastards won't know what hit 'em and our bombs will cut their wards open like a can opener through a…well—a can, I guess."

"Well I can't see a damn thing so I hope you're right about this," his CO grumbled, staring frustratedly through his pair of binoculars at the open field before him. There was no tall manor, there was only an empty field with tall grass, but he knew better than to doubt his most senior enlisted man.

"I think we've got a full house sir. Permission to proceed with the attack?"

"Permission granted. I hope you're right about this Hodgkins, JDAMs don't come cheap you know."

"I know sir. They won't be wasted, trust me."

Just then, his radio squawked from dormancy to life, and Marcus instantly brought the receiver to his ear, "Prophet, this is Reaper entering the AO, do you copy over?"

"We read you five by five, Reaper."

"Copy that Prophet, the mission is a go?"

He glanced to his CO who gave a barely perceptible nod of approval. "That's a Rog," Marcus said swiftly. "Request for two 2000 pound JDAMs to be delivered to Coordinates, November 51, 15, 36, Whiskey 01, 55, 38. Set airburst at 100 feet. How copy?"

"Readback, GPS coordinates for two 2000 pound JDAMs are November 51, 15, 36. Whiskey 1, 55, 38. Airburst set at 100 feet."

"Prophet to Reaper, that's affirmative. Target is ripe for harvest, and ready to receive JDAMs over."

High above the squad of six that lay just outside the range of the Manor's wards, was a Panavia Tornado GR4, outfitted with two AIM-9L Sidewinder Heat Seeking Missiles slung under the outer rails and two GBU-31 JDAMs that sat snugly beneath the fuselage. The Aircraft, based at RAF Coningsby had just entered the Airspace and upon receiving clearance from their eyes on the ground, were making final preparations to jettison their payload. Those JDAMs that currently hung beneath the fuselage wouldn't be attached for much longer, since with the depression of a trigger, Captain Cassandra Williams, Weapons System Officer to Pilot Major Samuel Bradford released both bombs from their mountings. With the GPS coordinates already laid into both JDAMs guidance packages by Captain Williams, the Tornado was free to turn away and head for home the moment the bombs came off their rails. The bombs required no further guidance on their earthward plummet, falling through the air at astonishing speed whilst the guidance vanes at their rears steered them towards the target, the coordinates for the center chimney atop Malfoy Manor.

This right here, is how we are superior to fucking Death Eaters. You have wards? Cute story, you sorry bastards. Try to use your magic and stop two JDAMs you stupid fucks. Fuck you. Marcus watched with barely concealed excitement and anticipation, waiting for the bombs to hit. Any second now and that dark, stupid looking mansion would be reduced to a smoldering pile of ash with no survivors within.

An earth shattering, ear-splitting explosion erupted several hundred yards away from the SBS squad as the two bombs found their mark. The towering plume of debris and flames formed an intimidating mushroom cloud over what was once, a proud Manor that had survived wars, famine, and dissent, only to be felled by two Muggle devices that sliced through their wards like a knife through butter. The remaining five Muggle Soldiers in the squad could see the explosion as clear as day, and since all the protective enchantments on the Manor were gone, they could see its crumbling remains that held no signs of life. Clearly, not a soul had survived the devastating explosion that would be passed off in the morning paper tomorrow as a catastrophic gas leak. Only this squad of six, the Tornado crew above, and their higher ups within the SBS would know the truth, this was no gas-leak, but a targeted strike on a domestic terrorist group.

"I can see it now," Lieutenant O'Shannessy said, referring to the barely standing sparse beams and columns of the once proud Manor. Everything else was gone though, but for the first time that night, the five Muggle soldiers saw what First Sergeant Marcus T. Hodgkins could see all along. He smiled inwardly at a job well done, his parents had been avenged.