Author Note: This is not dead, as I still want to tell this story that has been in my head for 2+ years now, but my attention span and writing capacity has been elsewhere for a long while. My apologies.

CHAPTER 14

May 28, 2001

1947

Her head snapped backwards. Even as Leah took a breath, the light of the explosion overwhelmed her. It was still silent as she looked down the long vista and saw the shockwave coming. As she dove for the street, she did something that she had not done in years. She reached for her wand and muttered the incantation for a shield charm for herself and then half a dozen strengthening charms aimed at windows and revolving doors. The shock wave swept over her and pushed hard into her shield. The elderly couple that was walking only a few yards behind her were caught in the protective eddy. The insistent young man who had been trying to chat her up for the past block was knocked on his arse. Smoke and dust began to fill the street.

Leah's eyes scanned through the chaos. A few dozen yards in front of her, a woman only slightly older than her was also on the pavement. Her leg was twisted in a fashion that the human body was never meant to twist. Her eyes were glazing over and half a dozen different fluids were seeping out of half a dozen orifices. A dozen or more shards of glass ripped open her clothes and scored her skin. Leah merely could think. She could only do. Her legs were moving before her mind as she whispered "Episky" and "anapneo." She tilted the wounded woman's head backwards to keep her airway clear before reaching into her purse and pulling out a short two inch knife which she then used to carve up a trio of tourniquets.

As she tightened the fabric around the woman's thigh, the blood slowed its spurting and began to pool on the street. Leah felt for a pulse and after fifteen seconds, it was thin and weak. She held the woman's hand and started to chant healing spells under her breath. Her wand was back in her purse, but she felt her magic flow through her unimpeded. She was no Madame Pomfrey, she was not even skilled as most Hogwarts trained mothers who could heal the the bumps and bruises of rambunctious children, but her magic, combined with the knowledge of working with an exceptional rigger who talked through her safety considerations every time Leah worked with her, to keep the young woman alive.

Off in the distance, sirens started to sing. Help was coming.

Even as uniformed individuals started to flow towards the bombing site, non-uniformed men stayed put. The Artist Rifles stayed in their overwatch. The men could not be distracted, as their obligation was to protect the event. They would be no more useful at a bomb scene than any other group of organized men who could clear rubble. They could be useful tomorrow as their professional plastique experts may have insight on the dynamics of a bombing but tonight, their expertise was needed.

One man looked down an alley. A green van had come around a corner suddenly. It swung wide and almost ran into the row of parked cars near the edge of the security perimeter. The brakes squealed as the van stopped while completing a quarter turn in a skid. The back doors opened up and the overwatch team saw half a dozen men erupt. He looked hard for another two heartbeats. The rest of the observation post was also looking in the same direction.

Guns - half long rifles with underslung grenade launchers and half short submachine guns.

He kept the watch while the crisis code word went out over the radio.

Within seconds, another crisis call from another observation post was heard. Organized chaos started with the quick reaction force even as the first perimeter guards were cut down in a hail of fire.

Harry had been behind cover as the bomb exploded. The noise and shockwave swept over his head while Ron had been pushed backwards half a meter. He quickly cast bubble head charms for both of them and then a quick diagnostic suite of charms on Ron. He was not injured, at least not seriously enough to be concerned. His partner and best friend shook his head twice and then his eyes opened up.

Harry looked at Ron. His hands were signaling in the Martha's Vineyard Sign Language that had arisen in Squibnocket which the Aurors had adopted over the past several years as a tactical communications tool that no one could be assumed to know. Ron signed his assent; they both felt anti-apparition and anti-portkey jinxes being cast. He quickly cast a charm to detect the extent of the enemy's spell work - he frowned as he saw the information come back - two blocks, at least, were now restricted in their magical transportation. Whomever was casting these jinxes was quite powerful. They would not hold a determined assault and they were not long lasting like a ward based restriction but whomever had cast the spells knew what they were doing and could count on at least twenty minutes of relative immobility.

Half a dozen Patronii criss-crossed in front of him as Aurors sent messages back and forth. Prongs ran to headquarters to give notification that both Potter and Weasley were up and that strong jinxes had been cast. Reinforcements were needed. Anklebiter, Ron's terrier Patronus, went into the venue to alert the interior Aurors that there was a significant magical threat. Bones' ram reported that at least one wizard was throwing high powered and Dark curses at the entrance and guards were down to a combination of magical and mundane means.

Harry took one deep breath and nodded to Ron; they were the closest reinforcements to the entrance and their battle drill for this scenario was to attack the attackers in the rear. Both young men pulled out their wands, knowing that the Obliviators would be busy after this crisis, and Muggle Worthy Excuses would need to be creative even as Kingsley smoothed over things with Downing Street.

"Damn it, Kingsley is inside" The Aurors had a standard drill to evacuate high value targets as quickly as possible. That usually meant apparition and floo, but with the jinxes up, Harry had to assume that there was no easy, magical way out as if the attackers were competent enough to stop apparition and portkeys, the odds were good that the floo would be seized up as well. And even if it was not blocked, there would be over one hundred witches and wizards who would be seeking to evacuate at the same time. This was quickly becoming a worse case scenario as everyone inside could not distinguish friend from foe. People would know who was from their own delegation and perhaps recognize diplomats from other nations, but in a short glance, a glimpse of a brilliant yellow spell or the cry of a wounded man would provide no targeting information. The attackers, however many there were, would, if they could penetrate the perimeter security, be able to get at least the first few spells off. If they were both bold and smart, disillusioned attackers could cause immense damage.

Ron was one yard to Harry's left and two yards to his rear. His wand had a piercing hex ready while Harry already had a shield up. His eyes scanned back and forth. Wounded civilians were quickly disregarded as not a threat. He could spare no time nor magic for them. A few Muggle security teams were responding to the attack on their perimeter. He disregarded them even as he cast a disillusionment charm on himself and his partner. They could not afford to be in a crossfire of magic and machine guns. His shield was good by Auror standards, but it was not good enough to render a well aimed magazine of pistol caliber rounds irrelevant. It might stop the first dozen bullets fired at point blank range but it would definitely not stop the next dozen or the next dozen after that.

His heart was pounding but his breathing was deep and calm. Everything around him was instantly rendered into two categories; threat or not a threat. Ahead of him were not threats. His legs ate up the ground. Ron kept pace as his longer legs lopped off the distance with graceful strides. The redhead's eyes scanned where his partner was not looking. They had trained long enough together to know each other's patterns. Both Ron and Harry had shared the same intimacy with Hermione, but Ginny was never able to understand how the three of them could understand each other without legilmancy. Time and stress and then training to refine those instincts had replaced a difficult magic with the knowledge that Harry had the front and right at a moment when Ron was watching side and left and within a step, Harry's eyes were scanning from 2 to 4 o'clock and Ron was on the front.

As his legs pounded up the short front staircase, he could smell magic being tossed about in the hotel foyer. Organ liquifiers and bone breakers had been cast. One old man who was due to retire from the Ministry in months and spend the rest of his life growing heritage apples and pears with the aid of his four grandchildren, the oldest only a first year at Hogwarts, was coughing up blood. Next to him was a younger witch with a patch indicating that she was from Bavaria whose lifeless eyes took in the entire scene of chaos. A few other witches and wizards were trying to perform first aid for each other

Harry and Ron slowed now. Their eyes darted back and forth as their ears heard the sound of a battle hidden behind the noise of a confused and shocked crowd. Suddenly, a familiar scream broke through the air. Susan Bones pain rented through the chaos. Both wizards stopped for half a beat and moved to the right and through a set of thick oak doors. Their classmate and comrade in arms was huddled in a fetal ball, or at least most of her was. Her right leg was a yard away. Half a dozen slugs had finally punched through her shield, and two of them caught her in the thigh while a wizard had sent a cutting curse that chopped her femur in half just above her knee.

Ahead of them, two Muggles were reloading in the few quiet seconds where no one was banishing objects at their head nor were any candles exploding as if they were grenades digging out hold-outs from deep cover. Next to them were at least three lifeless bodies; Susan had not sold her leg cheaply.

Between them was a wizard whose face was covered by a black ski mask that could be bought at almost any store from October to February. He had a fourteen inch cherry wand smoking through the ill-intent he was pushing through. Half a dozen exploding hexes and then a killing curse erupted from the wand in the second and a half that it took for Ron to apply both a stasis charm and start a tourniquet on the wounded Auror.

Harry's magic was flowing to the surface although anyone who would see photos of him in action would swear that he looked remarkably calm, as if he had merely been asked to unclog a drain or replace a flood light on a muggle flat. Precise, miniscule movements that a surgeon would have been proud to call her own were made. Green flashes of light followed by sickly purple and then brilliant ruby red orbs erupted from his wand. The first dozen spells were flowing down range and landing on the impromptu barricade before the rugs and wine glasses animated into ferrets and mongooses started to run down the hallway.

His opponent turned and raised a shield that absorbed some of Harry's spellfire and then his wand flicked left and right and then up and down to deflect the rest of the area spells away from the two Muggles who had finished reloading their weapons. As the metal barrels were raised and pointed at the man in the hallway, cancellation and finishing spells were cast at the transfigured creatures. Harry was not waiting. He had conjured a dozen small balls of tungsten and flipped his wrist to send them at the barricade at the speed of a first rate cricket bowler. Three slammed into the hardwood but were stopped. A few more missed. The last few lost some momentum breaking through the weakened part of the barrier. One passed through cleaning, splinters annoying a gunman but causing no damage. Another was deflected off the body armor that the gunner wore. The last one slammed into the left hip of the man. Half a dozen rifle rounds went over Harry's head and chewed the ceiling.

Ron had started to cast as well now that his attention was off of Susan. The two Aurors worked together as they advanced from cover to cover and pressed the enemy warlock and the one gunner still standing. They could tell he was an Irishman from the swearing as he tried to clear a jammed weapon in the middle of a firefight. Spells were exchanged, curses thrown and transfiguration dominated the intense battle. Suddenly, a spell from one of the Auror's wands landed on the killer's right arm. The cutting curse was not going to cause the man to bleed out, but he had to shift hands from his dominant to his weak hand. The shield momentarily weakened, the ability to banish objects was slightly less efficient. This opportunity allowed for Harry to banish the barrier into the gunman who had just started to send suppressive fire down the hall again.

The warlock through a smoke ball that Ron recognized as a modification of his brother's Darkness Powder. A wide area curse came through the black cloud which Harry and Ron dodged by hugging the ground. It swept over them. The warlock had disappeared so the two Aurors were casting human presence revealing spells and being completely overwhelmed by the results being returned from the ballroom. Witches and wizards were cautiously opening the doors now and their heads were sticking out to look for threats. Inside the ballroom, over a dozen bodies were lifeless on the ground and even more had medics performing first aid and stasis charms while Patronii were streaming to Saint Mungo's to give the wards a warning about incoming wounded and to gain some advice on how to treat the most pressing of wounds.

The SAS sergeant major breathed deeply. The conference center was now cleared. Seventeen hostages dead, six gunmen killed and two more captured but in locked down operating theatres. None of the Artists were severely wounded. Two men had been bruised by shots that would have killed them without their body armor. Another man would not be playing tennis for a while as his ankle had twisted hard while clearing a room.

"What a clusterfuck" Sergeant Houlihan thought. There was no intelligence that a threat like this was expected. It was a complex operation with a diversion and an assault team. How had the weapons come into the country? Where were the training sessions conducted? How had the gunmen been recruited? What exactly had he seen or not seen on the 5th floor? And why the fuck had he seen Potter and the red-head exit a building next door looking like they too had just cleared a hotel through room to room searches?