Twelve minutes later, two assault stacks were ready and waiting behind the breach team. The men were ready, they were waiting and then chaos ensued.
They followed the sergeant major. He was the first man in, his submachine gun sweeping to the left. No targets in sight. Another moment into the house, and a compatriot was sweeping to the right. Another heart beat, the rest of the stack was in. They quickly headed left to clear the first floor while the second stack began the assault up the single staircare. By the time they had gone halfway up the stairs, a pair of flash bangs were arcing over the point man's head. The three rooms on the first floor were secured with one man captured when the sergeant major heard the quick thumping of a three round submachine gun burst. A call went out over the radio that the upstairs was secured - two unharmed prisoners and one suspect who had reached for a pistol and was now bleeding out as a medic sprinted up the stairs.
Soon the assault teams were out of the building. Explosive experts were seeking booby traps even as the interrogators began establishing rapport with the two unharmed suspects. One young man, barely an adult, was being treated with a good cop routine in a van already heading to Scotland Yard's headquarters. The interrogator had offered him a cigarette and an understanding word. The boy would break even before the bad cop had to be introduced into the patter.
The other man was sitting on the side of the street with his hands cuffed behind his back. A hood was over his head and a pair of officers stood guard. He scowled as he knew that the bobbies would be working to get everything out of his mind over the next weeks and months. He knew some things, but not everything, and even what he saw, he had not remembered everything but they would not believe him. Why would they? He was a killer.
Thirty minutes later, he was forced into the back of another van to disappear into the maw of the legal system.
Even as the prisoner was being placed into a van, the Sergeant Major counted his men. Some were joking. Some were gingerly putting their weapons and scopes back into the carrying cases that kept the tools which cost more than a man could make in a year scratchless. A few were walking through the scene with the investigators who would determine whether or not the shooting was justified.
Even more men who were not part of the regiment had started to examine the house with a degree of detail that was, in any other context, completely obsessive. They would soon be able to tell the sergeant major if he and his men would be needed again and where the tip of the spear would need to penetrate. Video surveillance had indicated that there were at least five survivors. Three had been accounted for here. Two more were somewhere in London. And once they had been located, someone would need to take armed and dangerous men down.
As the assault team loaded onto their vehicles, another convoy passed by. It was led by a pair of older lime green Vauxhall Frontera Sports. Four bright blue Astramax vans followed the lead cars while another Frontera took up the rear. The sergeant major shook his head. There were no agencies in London that had those vehicles in their inventory. Perhaps it was an enthusiast club making a poor set of decisions. He had other responsibilities to fulfill beyond satisfying his curiosity.
In the first Astramax, Harry checked his wand one last time. The phoenix core wand was ready. He could feel the easy power and anticipation for justice dance in his fingers as he rolled the wood between his fingers. Ron was checking the straps on his basilisk skin thigh guards. The other two Aurors in the breach team were adjusting their Kevlar armor, a new Auror innovation in the past year to protect against knives and physical attacks. Their dragon skin outer layers would stop most curses but the Muggle innovations had already saved at least a pair of nights in St. Mungos. The weight was a little more, but so far, the assault Aurors liked the trade-off.
Three more turns and then a sudden stop. The driver yelled for the assault team to get out. The door opened, and wands were ready but no magic was cast. Wards and detection spells could extend several hundred feet from the target, and tripping a trap was never a pleasant experience even when it was intentional. Accidental triggers with no one under cover was a good way to get everyone killed.
A trio of ministry witches had started to go to each door and told the inhabitants to stay inside. They were chosen as their perfectly symmetrical faces and wide doe eyes screamed for people to trust them without any charm beyond their own words. The street was silent. The four Aurors of the breach team jogged pass a series of row houses. Harry saw one or two eyes stare at them. The muggles would think that this was an assault team with specialized tools. They did not look too different unless you knew exactly where to look - perhaps their wands were probes and sensors, and no rifles were held, but SAS had made the MP-5 quite a popular visual for this type of work. Harry waited as the other teams joined up. Surveillance was ready, and then Gawain nodded.
Revelation spells were cast. Ward lines were tested as transfigured dogs ran to the doors and windows. None were damaged. No magic was detected. Susan shook her head as her revelation spell came back negative. They were going in cold.
Harry waited. Proudfoot waved her wand a few more times and muttered under her breath as she prepared a set of charms to take down the door and blind anyone within the first twenty feet. The magic was complex as it had to be directional and very short duration. Either was a challenge; both were a sign of an expert. Harry took a breath in. And then another. His heart was steady. The medical monitoring charm was good. A healer was watching the entire operation from the rear Frontera and she would be quite pleased that his heart rate had yet to breach eighty beats a minute.
Proudfoot's fingers went up.
Four.
Three.
Harry shifted his weight to his right foot and brought his wand to the ready.
Two. Ron's handed lightly grasped his shoulder.
One.
Chaos ensued. The door disappeared. A massive explosion of light that from behind looked as if it was filtered through a five meter layer of sun glasses burst open.
GO GO GO GOG
Harry did not need to think. He moved. Feet in, eyes left, feet forward, flashbang grenade that had been modified by George Weasley for better effects and then Ron barrelled past him. Another step and the first floor was cleared. Even as the breach had been secured, the main assault team was up the stairs. More spells, and more Weasley products detonated.
"MAIN FLOOR CLEAR"
" UPSTAIRS CLEAR"
"EMPTY HOLE REPEAT EMPTY HOLE"
Harry took a deep breath. No more danger here. The assault team filed out of the house and soon forensic wizards were looking through the traces of blood and magic. They knew that they had an anomaly and the blood looked fresh enough that this was not a bad lead. But now, they did not know what else they needed to do.
