Disclaimer: See Chapter I

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related.

Chapter VI: Old Friends, New Experiences

The road on which they had been driving started to come to an end as they approached what looked like a small airfield with a gate consisting of a guardhouse and crossbar. Slowing down, Alex pulled out a small leather folder as a man wearing British army camouflage uniform came up and curtly demanded identification.

After examining it while a second soldier watched the Land Rover, the sentry handed the folder back, and raised the crossbar. Alex then drove down the road and turned on to the tarmac of a small airfield, and eventually stopped besides a small hanger. Getting out, he picked up his bergen and motioned for the boys to do like wise. Bags on their shoulders the two followed their uncle into the hangar, where Alex seemed to know the pilot.

"Oi, Alex, what you said you was going to Dwryyn Camp, right?"

Alex nodded, "Yeah, you think you can take us?"

The pilot snorted, "Take you? Shit, I could take your whole bloody family! All they got me doing is flying in some bloody lobsters for the Officer's Mess." He stared impatiently, "Come on! Get in!"

With that, the trio boarded the plane, and strapped themselves in as the plane began moving out the hangar and began take-off procedures. Soon after it began moving down the runway it was in the air cruising to the west.

This had been the first time Harry had been in an airplane and had found it to be a less thrilling then flying via broomstick. Dudley was still quiet and was gazing out into the night sky.

Alex had taken a seat across from Harry, and now spoke, "Well, lad, I've told you my tale tell me yours."

Harry looked at him, "I thought you said you had the records and…"

"Those are records, I want to hear it in your words, for that is an angle of this picture I don't have."

So Harry spoke. He told Alex of how he hadn't wanted the attention of the Triwizard Tournament, of how he had nearly destroyed the best friendship he had had, of the quidditch matches and how he had felt like he was playing second string compared to Cedric and of the total hatred and bitterness he had felt as it appeared Cedric was going to win, and the guilt afterwards, that he had been the one who got Cedric killed. For once, Harry felt the burden he had lift ever so slightly as he poured out what he had had to keep locked up come out.

Alex listened impassively before reaching into his jacket and tossing Harry a silver flask emblazoned with the regimental insignia of the Parachute Regiment. "Take a drink, lad. You need it." Harry unscrewed the cap and took a cautious sip. It was a bitter, smoky taste but he liked. Dudley had listened wide-eye to his story and looked, Harry thought disbelievingly, as though he sympathized with him. Harry wondered if he was one of those people who got slushed at the mere scent of alcohol.

Alex asked Harry, "Tell me Harry, were you and this Diggory fucking the same woman?"

Harry bolted up, "What do you mean?"

"Seems simple enough. Were you fucking the same bird as Diggory? Or trying to anyhow?"

Harry shook his head.


Alex grinned, "Well then, let me explain my reasoning and you can tell me if I'm wrong or not. When I listened to that little exchange between you and Diggory before the portkey, you sounded bitter. I've heard bitterness, and can tell what the cause of that bitterness is. Looking at the events that happened before, it meant either you were still pissed at him over the quidditch match that you lost, or there was something else."

Harry interrupted, "Yeah, I suppose I was still bitter over the quidditch match in my third…"

"Bullshit lad. You've got much too many brains to be too crushed over such a trivial event. I investigated a bit and here is what I found out. Ced Diggory listed his date for the Yule Ball a week or so before you, and it was Cho Chang. You didn't list one until several days before and it was a bird named Parvati Patil. Coincidence? I think not."

Alex leaned forward. "You were sweet on this Cho weren't ye?"

Harry was stunned and blurted, "Yes, but how…"

"Simple lad, I know for that is why I'm still here alive and not claiming a piece of soil to be forever British. Most people glance, I look, I read people like a book. With you, all I needed was a bit of investigation through Dumbeldore, and I had your problems pegged."

Alex leaned back into the webbing seats of the plane.

"You feel guilty and bitter, thinking that by wishing him ill you, in a way, killed him indirectly. You felt as though he was an enemy of sorts, beating you at every thing it seemed. Do tell me if I'm wrong?"

Harry shook his head, not trusting himself to speak nodded.

Alex continued, "Those feelings of hate later turned to guilt when events which you couldn't even imagine happened, resulting in his death. Guilt and trauma are two root causes of PTSD, and both have happened to you. Want to know how to fight it?"

Harry nodded.

"There are four ways of fighting the Beast as I call it. One, hard drink, for it calms the nerves in the short term, yet if taken in too much at too often, will fuck you up just as badly. The second is a good smoke, my cigars for example. Same advantages and disadvantages as the booze, only difference being a good smoke can also help you think things through. Number three is sex in one form or the other, be it fucking a high-class call girl, or whacking off at the cover of Cosmopolitan. Something amusing, Harry?"

Harry nodded as he laughed slightly, "Yeah, I know what you're saying but I've never done any of it. I suppose it's too hard when you have Peeves the fucking ghost bursting in on you and telling the whole school what you're up to."

Alex looked concerned, "Not even…" He made a horizontal pumping motion with his right hand.

Harry shook his head.

Alex continued, "Anyhow, the final method is hard work. And that," he stared Harry straight in the eyes, "is what you'll be doing a lot of in the next six weeks."

                                                            *          *          *

Within an hour, the plane was landing on a small concrete strip located in a narrow valley in the mountains of Wales. As the small plane came to a stop, Alex got up and motioned for Harry and Dudley to follow him. He opened the rear door and threw his pack out, then jumped out after it. The boys followed him as an open topped Land Rover came speeding onto the tarmac and stopped besides them.

The driver was a lean, black-haired man who looked to be of the same age as Uncle Alex. He wore an Army camouflage trousers over black boots with a maroon beret covering a head of hair that looked closely cropped so that the skin could be seen on the sides. On the upper arms of the green woolen jersey he had three white chevrons pointed down. In the passenger seat huddled a shorter figure that Harry couldn't really make out other then the fact that he (Harry assumed it was male since it looked flat-chested) wore the same uniform as the driver only that his hat was a soft-billed cap instead of a beret.

The driver stopped the car and walked with an easy confident stride towards them. Stopping he looked at them, turned to Alex, and saluted, "Captain Alexander Evans?"

Alex, wearing a black leather coat and otherwise definitely not in uniform, returned the salute and spoke, "Sergeant Richard Longbottom?"

The two stared at each other then broke out laughing as they embraced. Longbottom broke away and spoke first, "You bloody Jack Pudding! I was wondering when you'd be showing up."

Alex replied, "Aye, caught the lobster flight out of Delta 290, Dick. Which reminds me…" He turned to the cockpit window of the plane they had flown in on. Tapping it, the pilot opened it and asked, "What?"  Handing him the keys of his Land Rover, Alex told him to take care of his car or else he would discover the joys of flying a Beaver minus a few fingers and his genitals. The pilot laughed and made a rude gesture with his fore and middle fingers.

Dick laughed too, and then motioned them to the Land Rover. As he did so, he spoke, "Let me introduce you to my nephew Neville Longbottom, who will be in your section once we get to the barracks. Alex, you didn't introduce me to your…"

"Nephews, Dick." Alex replied, "The rather chubby one, for now anyhow, is Dudley Dursley, and the shaggy-haired one with the lighting bolt scar on his head is Harry Potter."

Harry was genuinely shocked now. Of all the things that could have happened, this was the most unexpected, ranking up there with the recent thawing out of sorts with Dudley. Neville Longbottom went to Hogwarts with Harry, and was like him a Gryffindor. Yet he was also the most clumsy and forgetful boy to ever set foot in it's halls and had suffered uncountable mishaps and disasters during the last four years he had been there.

"Hello, Harry," Neville asked rather timidly.

"Hello Neville. What are you doing here?"

"For the same reason you are Harry; the Boy Who Lived. To train" This was Dick speaking.

"You see Harry, I'm a squib and this summer I decided to help my nephew out once I talked to him and heard a little of his disasters. Then, my old friend Alex calls me from Belize and tells me he's coming back to help out his nephew, so I get to thinking and find out about this little used Ministry of Defense program for juvenile delinquents to spend time in a regimented, disciplined atmosphere and I figured 'Why not have both his and my nephew spend time reordering their lives?' It sounded smashing so we fixed it up for Neville, you and Dudley over there would be with one of the toughest damn units in the British Army; my own platoon, the Second, in Bravo Company of 2nd Battalion, the Parachute Regiment."

Harry decided to keep his mouth shut, and the silence was broken as they traveled from the airstrip and through the base by Dudley.

"Will we be getting uniforms as well, sir?" This was the first time Harry had heard him use the word before out of respect (or was it fear?).

Alex turned around and replied, "You will. You'll learn how to wear it, take pride in it, hell," he laughed, "maybe you'll even want to serve the Queen by the time we're done with you." They drove for several more minutes before stopping in front of three large, two-story building. A sign with the Parachute Regiment insignia had the words beneath it of "B Company, 2nd Parachute Battalion, Parachute Regiment".  Alex told them, "Right, out of the car, and get in a straight line side by side."

They did so and Alex explained to them the basic movements of Right, Left, and About Turn. After that, he marched them insides to an office marked, "Company Quartermaster Sergeant" and banged on it. Out came forth a diminutive man wearing glasses and an expression Harry thought looked equal to that of a few security trolls he had seen.

Alex after nodding a greeting handed the man a piece of paper he had in his coat. The man, who had been obviously working on paperwork judging by the stack of forms near a typewriter from what Harry could see of his office, grunted and curtly told the boys to follow him into a separate room where there were three sets of uniforms and assorted gear already waiting. "Try on the boots, trousers, shirts and jackets. The last three are in camouflage colors," the quartermaster curtly ordered. The boys hurriedly did so and found that the uniforms they had been issued fit them rather well, though a bit towards the loose side. Alex spoke, "Good, the school sizes me and Dick received from your schools are right on the money. How the boots and shoes fit?" He was referring to the two pair of boots and one pair of oxford style lace-up shoes they had. They too, the boys discovered fit comfortably. Dick explained, "One of the first lessons you learn of the infantryman's trade is that good, well-fitting, boots are as important to you as a good rifle or a good cunt. Now, toss, not pack, your gear into those green duffel bags nearest you and follow me. You'll learn how to pack it appropriately soon enough."

They did so and followed him out towards a large room that reminded Harry of the Gryffindor common room. Here, a random grouping of battered and stained couches, and chairs surrounded a large TV and VCR whose plastic was chipped in one corner while an even worse looking pool table and table soccer table occupied another. The third corner had a large "white" (that may have been the original color but it appeared constant abuse and use had stained it more a permanent gray) refrigerator and freezer set while the fourth corner, the one nearest the door, a sinister looking man with sandy hair and an unsmiling, laconic face appeared to be interested in slowly honing a dagger. In the center of the room was a group of tables and more chairs, though at the moment all were looking at a…Hey, that's a porn film isn't it? Harry thought as he stared at the large breasts and tanned nipples  that were moving on the screen.

While his home life wasn't exactly ideal, he had seen plenty of pictures of the undressed female form, both by itself and being pleasured by men, from Dudley's rather large pornography collection and wasn't unduly shocked by what he was seeing. Indeed, he often wondered if he should have talked to Sirius about sex and women before, when he had a chance. Now, Harry was hunting in the dark. Though what hunting I've done hasn't come close, Harry thought wryly, The closet I've come to seeing the undressed form of a girl in real life was when I played "doctor" as a boy with one of the local girls at Privet Drive who liked my scar, and also a few sly glances at the neckline and backside of Cho, Parvati Patil and a couple others  back at Hogwarts.

Yet, his mind couldn't help but think of Gryffindor's common room as he watched the soldiers relaxing. Instead of Fred and George Weasley and the Creevey Brothers, this was a group of paras (the oldest looked like he was in his mid-thirties) that were cheering and hooting at the television as Harry saw a black-haired, gypsy-looking woman on the television wildly performing fellatio on some lucky bastard. The soldiers were wild in a muggle way as they drank bottles of Fosters lager like water, and made wise cracks of what was going on the screen.

"Oi, would look at that bird clean that bastard's barrel!"

"Jealous, Ed?"

"Yeah, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah, that's what toilet paper and your right hand is for. Speaking of which, is Deacon done in the latrine yet?"

A raucous burst of laughter as the man on screen apparently climaxed too early and came all over the woman's face. The starlet grinned, and then swallowed some of the sperm that had gotten on her face, showing her tongue to the delight of the men watching her. Harry couldn't help but watch avidly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dudley and Neville both shared the same interest as he did.

"All right, turn that shit off I got some shit to announce." This was Dick Longbottom as the screen cut away to another woman, albeit a fully clothed one. Despite a few grumbles, the TV was shut off and all eyes were turned to him. A few of the older men waved at Alex, but all attention was turned to Dick Longbottom.

"Right, you all know we were going to receive three young punks and turn them into hard bastards…"

"Aye, sarge, like we are?"

"Yeah Jenkins, now shut your mouth and pay attention. Those three over there," Dick pointed to the boys, "are the three we are to break and then remake." These boys were waved at and asked such things as, "So what got you caught to be here?" "We'll train you boys, hahahha!" "I hope you fucked your woman for you won't be getting any cunny here for a long time."

"All right, shut up and sit down. These young bastards will be trained by all of us in Second Platoon as we ourselves train. Speaking of which, with Second Lieutenant Roberts in the hospital, we won't be getting a replacement until he returns to active duty in about six weeks. Until then, yours truly," Longbottom made a mock bow to the ironic jeers and cheers of the audience, "shall be in command. In the meantime, these lads will be going through the usual Basic Entry routine, modified of course. It will be heavy in physical conditioning, land navigation, marksmanship, bayonet and unarmed combat drill, and squad and section tactics. The three instructors will be, and do kindly stand up when I call you, Tongue," A short, brown-haired man holding a Fosters can got and spoke, "Private Jed Tongue, 2nd Paras."

"Rooney"

A smiling Irishman with sandy, curly hair leaped up and spoke, "Private Michael Collins Rooney, 2nd Paras"

"And Ghost, who'll be head instructor. The rest of you may be called upon to help them, but these three will be in the tender care of Rooney, Tongue and Ghost." With this, the villainous looking man whose sole interest had been sharpening his blade stood up and glowered at the boys, "Lance Corporal Tony Fletcher, 2nd Paras."

Dick took one last look around and spoke, "Right, now Tongue, go get the lads settled and teach them the basic movements, how to salute, you know the routine. As for the rest of you, you all remember Flash Evans?" They all nodded as Tongue came by and motioned them to the door. "Well, give the man a beer and turn the porn back on!" This brought resounding cheers as Alex grabbed a chair, turned it around and sat down as a Fosters was placed in his hand.

Harry followed Tongue as he led him and the rest to a barracks room that had two bunk beds, four footlockers, a desk, and a small closet. Tongue spoke, "Right, grab a bed for each of, though leave one of the top ones open as either me, Mike, or Ghost will stay with you each night you are here. After that, put on your uniforms and we'll begin."

Harry threw his kit on one of the top bunks as Neville and Dudley moved theirs on their bunks. Afterwards, they changed in silence and assembled in the hallway where they spent the next two hours with Tongue learning how to put on their uniforms, individual drill (how to stand at attention, rest, saluting, etc.), proper care of their kit, and how to put together their field gear. It was around midnight before Tongue called it a night and told them to get some sleep. "Sleep," Tongue explained, "will become as precious to you as food or drink in time. The latrine is across the hall if you need it. Good night."

Harry soon realized the truth of it for after brushing his teeth and stripping to his underwear he collapsed into sleep the instant he laid his head on the pillow.

He didn't realize that was the first dreamless sleep he had had since summer break began.

                                                            *          *          *

"WAKE UP YOU FUCKING SON OF A WHORE! YOU THINK THE QUEEN PAYS YOUR ARSE TO SLEEP!!"

A push into the mattress threw him out of his bed, but not hard enough so that he slammed, landing on his feet like a cat instead. Still drowsy, he felt a palm slam in the small of his back straightening him out. Remembering Tongue's advice, he came to the position of attention (back and head straight, hands cupped with thumb running along seam of trousers, and eyes staring into infinity) and saw in his vision a para he didn't know and his ubiquitous red beret. Neville and Dudley, Harry saw through his peripheral vision, likewise had similar men in front of them either glaring or shouting.

"That's right, keep staring forward. Now, your name, scum!"

"Harry Potter, Sir!"

"What is that, I must be going deaf in my old age, YOUR NAME AND SAY IT AS THOUGH YOU HAVE BALLS AND NOT A CUNT!"

"SIR, HARRY POTTER, SIR"

"Well, Potter, you will get dressed in three minutes, and fall out onto the grassy ground in front of the barracks as you are either dressed or the time is up. Whichever comes first. From henceforth, the grassy ground is known as the parade ground. DO YOU UNDERSTAND, POTTER!?"

"SIR, YES, SIR!"

"THEN WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR POTTER? AN INVITATION FROM THE FUCKING PRINCE OF FUCKING WALES? MOVE YOUR ARSE! MOVE! MOVE!"

With that Harry hurriedly began putting on his uniform. He couldn't help but notice that Dudley was shaking while Neville had changed a strange pale color as they too were changing.

In the back of Harry's mind, the summer break was starting to look like it could go on for an incredibly long time.