Taming The Beast
Chapter 25 Sandhurst In Scotland
After a long absence, it has returned.
The Writer looked on in admiration as the dimpled ball flew straight and true down the fairway of the 5th hole at St. Andrews, looking like Venus in the darkening sky. He'd put in an earnest effort towards studying for the exam and the long postponed vacation in the North felt well-deserved. It had come to this then, a final round of golf at the first golf course in history, followed by dinner before the long journey home. The ball completed its arc, settlling onto the fairway, a mere 180 yards from the cup. Grinning in satisfaction, he trotted down the fairway. Halfway out of the settlling gloom, a figure appeared...seemingly out of nowhere. "Aye", he said. "A foin shot, boy. Nae d'ye t'ink ye might get it in with three?" The Writer had grabbed several birdies in the few months that he'd been playing...but never came close to sinking the ball with two strokes to spare. Still the man had a point, it was well within the realm of possibility. "It's well within the realm of possibility", the Writer said, only somewhat smugly.
The figure appeared fully now, a..well the Writer was shocked. The figure appeared as the stereotypical Scot of the 16th century, coarse featured and burly, with a burr that would raise the price of "R's" a hundredfold had they been sold on the open market. "WELL WITHIN THE REALM OF POSSIBILITY, EH BOYO?" He roared with fury: "NAY...Y'ELL BE WHACKIN AWAY AT THE BALL TILL T'E SUN RISES!" ME FRIENDS AND I HAVE PUTS THE CURSE ON YE, 'LEST YE HEED AR WIRRRDS AND GETS RIDDA IT!" Needless to mention, the Writer found this rather disconcerting. He asked rather pointedly if he had in fact done something to offend, if the mysterious stranger had known how much he had paid for this ridiculous tee time, and just who, the hell, this mysterious stranger happened to be.
"Seamus MacDuff is the name, lad. I've been here as long as the clubs have been whackin balls." (The Writer cringed a bit at the choice of words). "Ye payed out more than the fair price, but I had somethin te do with that, aye, I did. D'ye nae think of t'e poor people thata been waitin' ferrr your last wairrrrds on the matterrrrrr?" (SYNTAX ERROR: GET A GRIP ON THE R'S. SHEEESH!)
The Writer, typically brilliant as writers go, confessed that he didn't know what this MacGruff or whoever he might be was referring to. The Scot rolled his eyes in frustration, then bellowed out to the steep mounds. "LADS! Aye, the boy, he's as thick as a whale sandwich! Shew yerselves!" Three ghostly figures materialized over the hills and quickly moved to the fairway. Two men and a lovely woman stared at the Writer impassively. The woman spoke sweetly, her voice musical and lilting; "Tim...Tim...you have us all in suspense. What becomes of Hermione...and my son?"
Tim was stunned. Hermione? As in the Harry Potter books? He stared at the three newcomers, realization dawning.
"I'm in the presence of Lily and James Potter...along with...Mr. Sirius Black?" They bowed in affirmation. The Writer muttered something about one to beam up and decided that he was really REALLY going to stop the nightly pub crawls for sure.
"And what can I DO for you, Messrs. Potter and Black?" This time it was MacDuff that spoke. "Och...Lad, ye gots tae finish yair storry!" "He's right Tim. You must finish your work. Everyone has been waiting for the climax," said James. Lily warned; "Chelsea can't sleep at night, and with her working eighty to a hundred hours a week, that just isn't healthy for the girl." She winked, "We redheads need to stick together!" Then Sirius: "You've turned a girl into a pregnant werewolf and started a war, we need completion!"
Ah yes. THAT story. The one that he hadn't touched since July. He turned to MacDuff for inspiration: "Eithair ye finish the story beforrre Joanne's new bewk is offerrred in the shoppes, or ye'll neverr brreak one hundred on this course or any otherr!"
OK. That'll work.
"YOU MUST PROMISE," the four sprits intoned ominously, as Tim felt a chill roll up his spine. "VERY WELL I PROMISE," Tim intoned just as ominously. "Smartass," muttered Sirus. "I think I like this guy, Seamus," said James. "You need any help, give us a call!"
With a nod and a wink, Seamus and the dead half of the Marauders drifted away towards the hills, disappearing as they neared it.
His fortitute restored, the Writer continued his evening golf game, finishing with an amazing 64 (1).
Everyone was gathered in the Great Hall. Dumbledore was speaking. "We welcome the officers and men of the Special Air Services to Hogwarts, and hope they enjoy their stay. Let me introduce Lieutentant-Colonel Michael Yates, who will be conducting your training." The youngish looking Colonel strode to the podium, surveying the puzzled student body a full minute before speaking. "Hogwarts Students, I am Lieutenant-Colonel Michael Yates. I and my men have been assigned to Hogwarts in order to train you young men and women for combat. While your professors will train you to defend yourselves with and against force of magic, we will provide you with the additional knowledge needed to defend yourself when magic may not be an option. For the next fourteen weeks, some of you will be trained, and I do mean TRAINED in the art of war. This will of course be in addition to your normal course loads." He smiled grimly, "As you now certainly know, Tom Riddle sees Hogwarts as the nexus of his struggle, so he will continue to attack unless we can show him that we are more than capable of resisting him. My job is to ensure that you can. Now we will go into more detail tomorrow evening after your, er wizarding classes, but for the time being get a good nights rest...you may be sure you'll be needing it before long." Colonel Yates stepped away.
Harry, Ron and Hermione were stunned. What had they gotten themselves into?
The following evening, 5th, 6th and 7th year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs assembled in the Astronomy Tower. Two grim-faced soldiers were there to greet them. "Come in, sit down, and quickly now", one commanded quietly but firmly. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I am First Sergeant Walsh, and this is my assistant Sergeant Rand. This evening, we will cover the basics of what you may expect for the next fourteen or fifteen weeks...or however long it takes."
"Right now we are in crisis mode, so you may be assured that we will despense with the usual time spent marching like toy soldier. We WILL cover the basics of the drill and ceremony, but the primary concern will be getting you ready to defend your life and that of your comrade. Since you are the older students, you will be FULLY trained in the use of British weapons and tactics, your juniors will concentrate only on familiarization and hand to hand combat."
"We will be starting TOMORROW in getting you into the physical shape necessary to be effective. You will also be competing for ten spots for our Accelerated Leadership Course, four weeks of some of the hardest training you will ever experience. Of those lucky ten...four will be selected for commissioning as Second Lieutenants...with the understanding that you will complete 5 GCSEs prior to promotion to First Lieutenant. Most of you may merely expect to get in the best condition you have been in your lives and be ready to defend yourselves against ANY threat, 'Muggle' or magical."
Hermione was heartbroken. She knew that she could probably get into the Leadership Course, but there was no way that she could compete in three days. Even if she could...well, best not dwell on that, she thought. First Sergeant Walsh Spoke again:
"What we are going to expect of YOU in the upcoming weeks is quite simple: You will conduct yourself in an appropriate manner. You will refer to us as 'Sergeant' or 'Sir' as the situation dictates. Most importantly you will do EXACTLY what we tell you when we tell you to do it. Are we clear on that?"
Murmured assention from the students. The Sergeants shook their heads.
"This is a MILITARY envioronment now. Let me ask you again, 'are we CLEAR on that?"
"Yes...SIR!"
"Very well, we obviously have a lot of work tomorrow, starting at 0500. We will be meeting with each of you individually over the next week so that we can get to know you better...the Army does NOT like surprises, so let me assure you that we intend to learn about you as much as possible. He spoke for a few minutes, declaring that as a whole, that Hufflepuff and Griffyindor That's all we have for tonight. Any questions? Very well. Dismissed!"
Five AM, everyone moaned internally.
0500 - Seven Hours Later.
The whole of Hogwarts was staggering out onto the Quiddich pitch, dazed and bleary-eyed. Colonel Yates and his cadre were there waiting for them.
"Good morning Hogwarts!"
"(muddled response)"
"OI, LOOK ALIVE! I said GOOD MORNING HOGWARTS!"
""MORNING COLONEL YATES"
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Hermione felt bursts of warmth piercing her body, bones and muscled crackled. The full moon was still a full day away, yet her body was preparing itself...or was it that the moon didn't matter anymore?
(1) On 9 holes
"Seamus MacDuff" is the character created by Michael Murphy, from his book "Golf in the Kingdom"
"Chelsea Clinton" is the character created by William Jefferson Clinton and Hillary Rodham in their books "My Life" and "It Takes A Village"
"Michael Yates" is the character created by Barry Letts in the BBC Television Series "Doctor Who"
"Tim" is a character created by Yahweh, Iehova, God, The Big G, The Man Upstairs, The Supreme Being, etc. and is the sole possession of and is the author.