"Tamale 2-3, this is Papa Bear, I got some targets for your fast broomers, please confirm, over."
"Papa Bear, this is Tamale 2-3, the boys are ready for the barbecue, over."
"Grid 2-33-6-Delta-Tango-7, standard fiendfyre, please. Papa Bear out."
"Copy that Papa Bear, happy to comply. Charlie won't know what hit 'em. Tamale 2-3 over and out."
{=}
The squads of wizards marched in perfect columns, their staves like a desolate forest, its end barely visible. The crowd gasped and cheered as the long-range brooms zoomed past them, emitting wildly coloured sparks and smoke.
Harry tried to concentrate on the crowd and the giant mass of reporters trying to catch him, but the singing wizards and the rhythmic trample of boots somehow captivated him.
"Unbelievable, hm?"
He turned to his right as the blonde man took a sip from his glass of wine. He was dressed in a Muggle uniform, the likes he had seen on the telly - jet black, with silver decorations and an officer's cap.
"This is your world's future. Forget about dueling heroes in the midst of a limited battle; that is now history." he said, refilling his glass of wine.
"It is astonishing, yeah," Harry said, looking at the multi-seaters taking off towards the forest. "But dueling is still important. It can save your life."
"On the battlefield against The Dark Lord, personal dueling skills are worth nothing. It is mass combat, and as such, mass-trained soldiers are needed."
"It might be true. I heard many things about you, yet I never thought you would be military reformer." the young wizard remarked, playing with his wand in his hand.
"In the magical world, it is not hard to be a reformer, when you are stuck with Medieval practices. Also, these are simply the naturally evolved traits of warfare." the blonde man said, standing up.
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Banbridge."
An older, silver bearded wizard joined them. His eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles and he sported a simple set of robes.
"I wondered when would you show up, Mr. Dumbledore. It is quite a pleasant weather to demonstrate my efforts and gain valuable criticism." Banbridge remarked, taking a fashionable sip from his glass. "Such a shame that Mr. Moody could not join us."
"I am afraid Alastor still holds a grudge against your 'efforts', Mr. Banbridge." the aged wizard said, sitting down onto a small chair.
"I think we should ignore what the old auror says and have a face-to-face conversation with our future." Banbridge said, motioning towards a white-haired witch engaged in a seemingly hot debate with a few pilots.
"And the future's name is Daphne Greengrass, it seems." chuckled Harry, leaning back.
"Jealous, Mr. Potter? I am sure she would not mind a date arranged in the future."
"I think Miss Greengrass would be rather disappointed and sad if she found out you regard her as such."
"Is that so?" Banbridge asked, puzzled. He emptied the last of the wine from the bottle and stepped to a metal box decorated richly with gold and gems.
"Lima 9-Niner, come in. Over." he said, turning a few gems that acted as knobs.
The contraption rumbled to life with a familiar voice.
"Papa Bear, this is Lima 9-Niner, we are ready and eager. Over."
"Lima 9-Niner, attach to Blonde Hurricane and make your way to Position Delta. Over."
"Roger-dodger that, Papa Bear, moving to Delta. Over."
{=}
Harry made his way down to the pilots, surveying the landing strip. It was like a beehive, with support personnel running around, taxiing brooms and levitating equipment. The off-duty pilots were gathered around a tall, red-haired man, who was telling a story with roaring laughter.
"Watch where you go, man!"
Harry quickly dodged a broom going onto the strip, admiring its sleek form for a minute before continuing his task. The young wizard was looking for a woman he did not like in particular, but she was the expert if he wanted to know more about Banbridge.
"Greengrass!"
The blonde woman turned around, holding a precision wand and a book in her hands. She was standing next to a Nimbus Starscreamer, one of the first models based on the new doctrine.
"Can I help you, Potter?" she sneered, turning back towards the broom and casting a few charms. "I am busy at the moment, so be quick."
"I know we haven't started on the best of terms, but I don't want hostility. I just want to ask a few questions " Harry said, leaning onto the makeshift hangar wall.
"You can ask me them while I work." Daphne said, moving towards the back of the facility. Harry followed her, checking out the various new flight equipment on the way.
"Also, I think the Hawks will want a word with you soon. They just got their new brooms."
"What do I have to do with that?"
"You have flew a Firebolt for a few years now." she said, glaring at him. "Our new pilots were not so lucky."
Harry followed the young woman silently for a few more minutes, admiring her form and thanking whoever designed these uniforms.
"So," she stopped and sat down to a small table with a pack of cigarettes. "what do you want to ask?"
"Can you tell me about Banbridge?"
Daphne lit her cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke.
"He warned me people would ask around. I never thought it would be you, though." she said, taking a drag. "
"I just want to understand all this," Harry said, leaning back in his seat. "There must be a reason for all this change."
"There are many reasons." the woman said, glancing around before focusing on Harry. "What I say stays between us and only us. You cannot tell anyone else."
Harry nodded, ready to listen to the story of the stranger who fascinated him.
"It all started back during our sixth year..."
{=}
(POV change)
The ground is fucking cold. And dry.
Wait, what?
I stand up and look around. This is not my forest. I grab my rifle by reflex and relief washes over me as I feel the metal and plastic. My trusty Ruby never leaves my side.
The trees are nothing like the ones that I fell asleep among. These are temperate. Oak, pine, some birch. They have a distinct smell. I laid down on my bed with my nose filled with the damp smell of half-rotting wood and now it is sharp and clean. It shouldn't be cold.
I grab my backpack and start making my way in a direction. I will never be caught standing in the middle of nowhere. Those fuckers probably entered the camp and carried me away to let the wild beasts finish their dirty work. I sweep a small spider from my arm.
I hate insects.
As I walk more and more, the feeling that I may be miles away from camp is stronger. I have no map, no rations. I am lost. I can't believe my shit luck.
You always know you are fucked when you are miles behind enemy lines and those massive assholes just play around with you. My mate Dennis told me they entertain themselves by listening to some poor bloke getting ripped apart by the local wildlife. Sick fucks, all of them.
I have a hard time not stepping on twigs. My stuff is light enough and I am strapped with ammo like the federal armory, but that will never help me against them. I grip Ruby tightly. It makes me feel a bit more secure.
Maybe it is the hunger or just general fatigue, but the trees seem to follow me with their nonexistent eyes. I just know they are looking at me. I hear horses far away and deep grunts coming from the other direction. I may be trapped between cavalry and mortars. God help me if I am.
The path is a bit treacherous. It doesn't help a lot that it is nothing more than a small, thin line partially covered with vegetation. It smells and feels like a trap, but I have no other options. It's a lot better than just being in a fixed position.
The crew would laugh at me now, especially old Kev. The ancient bastard knew the whole country inside out. He would never be lost.
I see faint light filtering through the wall of trees. I need to get there. I cannot stay long in this forest. I think of running, but that would just tell the enemy that I am here. I continue as usual, small but silent progress.
I can see a small hut and a clearing. It is obviously a local village. There is a dictionary somewhere in my pack, that should handle communication.
Americans. Base. Army. Direction. Help me. These should be easy enough to understand for them.
I step out and look up. A massive castle, the kind I always saw in travel magazines and postcards, towering over a lake. It was larger than our base, although that doesn't say much. I grip my gun even tighter. I may be crazy, but...
Ruby, I have a feeling we are not in 'Nam anymore.