AN - I am going to add a few terms worth knowing before reading this chapter. I feel like spelling all of it out in the middle of the story interrupted the flow.
HVT - High Value Target (Just like it sounds, someone who is considered a priority target)
QRF - Quick Reaction Force (A team that is on stand-by and ready to respond immediately to a threat)
IFAK - Infantry First Aid Kit (A first-aid kit designed around combat with emphasis placed on stabilizing traumatic injuries)
If there are other terms I am using/have used that anyone is unclear on, please don't hesitate to mention it to me. It is important that everyone can understand what I am writing and I sometimes get excited and lost in technical details. Enjoy
Mike went to bed that night unable to sleep. He was an operator, through and through. The way he saw it, someone he cared about was getting picked on and he had the means to stop it. To be fair, the way Malfoy was approaching…his attitude and demeanor. Things could have gotten out of hand quickly. That said, it would be a lie to say he didn't enjoy smashing that fucker in the jaw.
Yet, he had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that he had made a mistake. He had received a firm ass chewing from Brad for getting physical with a student, and he was sure the staff wouldn't be happy. That wasn't what bothered him though, at least not what bothered him the most.
He had been unable to look at Hermione afterwards. He was too nervous, worried that he would see a look of fear. Violence was never very pretty. People knew, on some level, that a soldier was a purveyor of violence. Just as they knew that a special operator took that violence to the next level. It was one thing to know that, and another thing entirely to see it. What would she think of him? Was he nothing more than a caveman, staking his claim? A mindless brute who resorts to smashing things that anger him?
Hell, he wasn't even sure she knew what he thought of her. She was a special young woman, nothing like he had ever seen before. She was beautiful and kind. Smart…she had a brain that didn't quit, a permanent striving to know more and be better. It was something he recognized in himself, that inability to accept anything less than perfection. Yet they were so different. She was a studious, beautiful girl. And he was a gruff dealer in wholesale violence. He wasn't stupid, not by any stretch. Nor was he a genius. It seemed crazy to expect her to see him as anything more than a friend. He felt lucky she counted him as that, and decided that he needed to apologize for his display of aggression.
Not that he was sorry for doing it. No, he was sorrier that she had to witness it. With that settled, he closed his eyes and started counting. It was something he'd learned to do shortly into his start as a Spartan. You get sleep when and where you can, and when he felt too nervous or wired to sleep, he closed his eyes and counted. He poured his focus into the next number, then the next. Soon, he was bored out of his mind and drifting off to sleep.
Unbeknownst to Mike, up the hallway and to the left, Hermione lay awake. She was replaying the day over and over in her mind, analyzing every facet of it.
It'd meant a lot to her that Mike stood up to Snape for her. Other classmates had tried, mostly Ron and Harry. Thus far, no one had been so blatant. She felt so bad asking him to stop, especially because she really had been happy about it.
Then the hallway incident. She had never been a fan of Malfoy. His attitude toward others, especially his demeaning view of anyone not pureblooded…it was sickening. It made no sense, there was no evidence that blood status had anything to do with magical prowess. Wasn't she proof of that? How often had she proven she had what it took? Every class, she knew the answers before anyone. She was often the first to complete a new spell, brew a new potion. It was never enough though. People were determined to see her an outcast, Draco most of all. When he confronted them in the hallway, she was aghast. She hadn't expected such a spectacle, though she should have known better. Malfoy looked out for blood, and the way he looked at her…spoke to her. She hadn't felt so low in a while.
Then there was Mike, out of nowhere. The punch was textbook, and something she had fantasized about once or twice but never had the nerve to follow through with. She didn't like being picked on constantly, but fighters got in trouble and troublemakers got kicked out of school. She was a dentist's daughter, and she loved her parents. But magic was…well it was magical. It opened up a vast world to her, opportunities her parents never had. Gave her ways to achieve that couldn't be overshadowed by her already amazing parents. She couldn't work up the nerve to risk that.
It scared her at first. When Malfoy dropped like that, she thought he wouldn't get up for a second. It scared her more that her first thought was that maybe that was a good thing. He was such a terrible person; would the world be worse without him? She quickly threw that thought out and before she knew it they were all walking away. She saw Malfoy groaning on the ground, knew he was alive. Then they were down the hall and Mike excused himself.
It all happened so fast, it was surprising how quickly he was able to end it. The more she thought about it, the more she decided she couldn't exactly fault him for it. He was a soldier, wasn't that the job? If she was being perfectly honest with herself, it felt good to have someone standing up for her. Harry and Ron had her back, but they were just as lost in things as she was. This felt different. She felt like she could rely on him to be there no matter what.
If he was willing to knock someone out for name-calling, even names as wretched as those Malfoy came up with, surely he cared enough to be there no matter what.
It was all so new to her. She was used to being the bookish outcast. She was comfortable with her existence, with not being the prettiest and most popular girl in school. Perfectly content, but this felt new. Scary and exhilarating all at once.
That is if he liked her. He'd called her pretty once. Not in so many words, but her heart soared nevertheless, when he immediately noticed the effort she put into her hair. No overt moves had been made however, and she was hesitant to do anything blatant. She rather enjoyed his attention and didn't want to do anything that could upset it.
With a start, she realized she had gotten completely past the earlier violence. Apparently, it didn't bother her that much.
"Oh…" she sighed to herself softly. She turned in bed and hugged her pillow tightly in a vain attempt to will herself to sleep. She just needed to get her brain to slow down enough. Easier said than done.
The next morning everyone was up fairly early. It was the morning of the big match, the first game of the season. There was an air of excitement among the students. In the Gryffindor common room, it went almost completely unnoticed as Mike stood near the dormitory stairs, with a look of nervousness across his face. He waited as patiently as he could manage, putting on a superficial smile for Harry and Ron as they walked past. Jason escorted the two to breakfast early, insisting that it was because Harry was going to need the nutrition for the game.
Mike gave him a nod of silent thanks. He never said a word about it, Jason just knew he wanted a moment with Hermione. It was the blessing and curse of working so closely with someone. They knew you, sometimes better than you knew yourself. It was impossible to keep secrets, not that he really felt the need to.
A stir of movement caught Mike's eye in the staircase and he looked up. Parvati and her friend were walking down, and Mike swallowed the lump in his throat. He felt a bit embarrassed. All he was trying to do was apologize for yesterday, preferably before he was called for punishment. He had been out of line, had known better than to knock a student out cold. Even if the little prick deserved it.
"Morning." The voice startled him, and he realized he'd lost himself in thought. Hermione was standing at the foot of the staircase. She looked tired, though he thought he could see some light makeup had been applied. He smiled in spite of himself.
"Hey, you got a minute?" he asked. She nodded and followed him to a more secluded corner of the common room. Most of the students were headed to breakfast, ignoring them completely.
"What's up?" She struggled to keep her composure. Something had changed, and she was nervous about what was different.
"I wanted to apologize about yesterday," Mike said. "I was out of line. I-"
"Mike, I-" Hermione started, but Mike was determined to finish his apology before she made any decisions.
"I let my emotions get the better of me. You're an awesome girl, Hermione, and seeing anyone disrespect you irritates me." Mike shook his head, as though clearing it. "After the ordeal with Snape I was already bent out of shape, and then Malfoy…" Hermione opened her mouth to talk, but Mike continued. "I'm sorry. You don't need a caveman looking out for you. I can back off and-"
"No!" Hermione shouted a little louder than she intended, getting a few unwanted looks from passers-by and startling Mike into silence. Hermione fought through the bout of embarrassment. "You don't need to back off anywhere, I mean…."
"I… what?" Mike spent the morning preparing to distance himself from her, certain that's what she would want.
"It scared me," she started, and Mike's shoulder slumped. He'd never wanted to scare her. "When Malfoy came at us like that…I thought he was going to hurt someone."
"Uh…" his brain was having a difficult time processing. She was scared by Malfoy, not him? "I didn't scare you?"
"I mean, I didn't expect it." She played with the seam of her robe, not making eye contact. "It was kind of satisfying, watching him go down." Hermione looked up hesitantly, and Mike wore a mixture of confusion and amusement across his face. He wiped the half grin from his face and looked at her intently.
"I'd never let someone hurt you," Mike said seriously. "I just…" really like you... He couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. He felt like a winner, she didn't want to avoid him completely. He didn't want to risk taking that luck too far. "I just can't believe you liked watching Malfoy get knocked out." He broke into his handsome grin, and she couldn't help smiling back.
"Thanks for standing up for me," she said. "It feels nice, having someone watch out for me."
"Don't worry," Mike replied, as they fell in step to head for breakfast. "I know you can defend yourself."
"It's just nice not to have to." They made it out of the common room, harassed by the painted knight as they left. They'd made it just down the staircase when a loud, angry voice called from across the hall.
"Sergeant Matthews!" Major Price's shout stopped everyone nearby in their tracks. "Briefing room, now!"
"That's my cue," Mike said, just loud enough for Hermione to hear. She watched him break off at a jog and wished him a silent 'good luck.'
"Sergeant, explain to me why there is a student in the hospital wing taking a goddamn bone healing potion for his fucked-up jaw." Major Price was standing, staring at Capt. Gordon and Sgt. Matthews who were both at attention.
"I punched him, sir," Mike said. "In the jaw," he added with a straight face.
"Goddamnit, Sergeant, I caught that part." The major sighed. "Why?"
"Sir, he approached us rapidly and in a threatening manner." Mike didn't elaborate more.
"I have half a dozen students saying Malfoy was talking, and you cold-cocked him." Price stared, waiting for the response.
"That might, technically, be accurate, sir." Mike's face betrayed no emotion.
"What the shit, Sergeant?"
"Sir, he was using aggressive body language. Being that a wand could be drawn at any time, I saw fit to end any possible threat before it could occur." Price thought about it a moment.
"Snape is calling for your removal from the school, and undoubtedly Mr. Malfoy's father will mirror that," Price said. "I have a meeting with Dumbledore and Fudge already today, about the incursion. Fudge wants us out of theater, this is not helping."
"Sir," Brad spoke up. "I've interacted with Draco before, he's a problem. If unchecked, something bigger could well have happened."
"I will no doubt have to bring that up," Price sighed. Damned special operators. "I've spent all morning collecting the incident reports surrounding Draco Malfoy, and you're damned lucky that he is an obvious troublemaker. Dismissed."
"Major Price, welcome." Dumbledore greeted the Major. Already in the office sat Fudge and another man that the Major didn't recognize.
"Cornelius, this is Major Price. He leads the soldiers here." Dumbledore began the introductions with a warm and welcoming attitude. Fudge nodded impatiently as the headmaster continued. "And this is Lucius Malfoy. He came along with Minister Fudge today." Dumbledore's voice never wavered from his welcoming attitude, but the Major got the impression that Mr. Malfoy was anything but welcome.
"Gentlemen." Price acknowledged them with a nod.
"Shall we get on with it?" Fudge asked no one in particular. After a very brief moment, he started in. "Major, the fact that Black got past your security measures is an issue I cannot look past. I must insist that the safety of our young men and women be taken seriously." Fudge spoke like a true politician, something that irritated Price.
"As if that were not enough," Malfoy began, "I hear your men are assaulting students in the halls."
"Security measures are already in place to prevent any further incident," Price said without emotion, something he'd practiced often since becoming an officer. "Sirius Black will not make it back into the school."
"The school looks like a fortress," Fudge commented, but Price continued on point.
"As for my units 'assaulting' students…that is simply inaccurate," Price said, looking straight at Malfoy. Malfoy opened his mouth to protest but was cut off immediately as Price set down a folder on Dumbledore's desk. "My officers compile reports of each encounter with students. This file details several incidents in which the student in question has made aggressive or inappropriate remarks or actions. My operator believed that a fight was about to occur, instigated by the student in question. He ended the threat immediately and aggressively, quashing any desire for further violence from the group accompanying your son," Price said. "Sir," he added almost as an afterthought.
"How dare you accuse my son of instigating this," Malfoy snarled. "He is laying in the hospital wing, recovering from a grievous wound inflicted by the very men that are supposed to protect him."
"My own observations have led me to a similar conclusion about Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore chimed in pleasantly, "however, I expect that further attempts to refrain from violence will be made in the future." Dumbledore added it directly to Price. The Major nodded as Fudge thumbed through the incident reports.
"Of course. I have already had a conversation stating the same to the operator in question. I'll have a briefing later today about restraint with the rest of my guys."
"This is all well and good, but the best course of action is to remove these soldiers and replace them with the dementors. Under Ministry-" Fudge started in, only to be cut off by the headmaster.
"As long as I am headmaster of this school, dementors will not be allowed on the grounds," Dumbledore said sharply, closing the matter entirely. Fudge sputtered a moment, but had little he could officially do. Without a more stable case against the soldiers, something proving them incompetent to the task, he couldn't get the support to remove them. Not without Dumbledore's consent. The soldiers had already made changes in response to the two major problems, and with Dumbledore supporting them staying, he couldn't get the school's board against it.
"Very well," Fudge said, his voice edged with disappointment. Malfoy said nothing, but gave Fudge a look that said that there would be an unpleasant conversation in the near future. "Your men are on very thin ice, Mr. Price, very thin indeed."
"Major." Price corrected stone-faced. "My men will do their jobs. If your Aurors find and arrest Black, there will be nothing to worry about." Any hint of understanding vanished rapidly from the Minister's face.
"Quite." He turned to Dumbledore and continued. "There will be a trial for Buckbeak next month. If that is all…" Fudge never paused to see if it was, in fact, all as he turned and stormed out, followed by Malfoy.
"That went well…" Price said.
"As well as one could hope in these circumstances." Dumbledore watched the door a moment. "Is everything prepared for the Quidditch game this evening?"
"Yes, sir," the major replied. "I have a detail sweeping the field as we speak and there will be reinforced patrols and protection details. If Black wants to use the event to get to Harry, he's got a tough fight ahead of him."
At the breakfast table, Brad and Mike were welcomed with hesitant smiles. Dumbledore sat at his table, pleasantly conversing with his staff.
"So, I guess you weren't expelled." Jason greeted Mike with a smile.
"Yeah, the Major's pissed but sounds like we're still here." Mike clapped Harry on the back. "How are you, buddy? Ready for the big game?" Harry smiled hesitantly. They had been run ragged practicing for the game, and it didn't help that the weather outside was nothing short of atrocious. The downpour of rain had only increased and the wind was getting awful.
"He's nervous, but he's got this thing," Eric said, getting it pretty right. Harry was in fact nervous. No one wanted to let Wood down, there was a lot of hope for a win.
"Care for some advice, bro?" Mike asked, sitting between Harry and Hermione.
"Sure," he said.
"Embrace the suck." Mike smiled, the phrase meaning a lot more to the operators. It was a saying their instructors hit them with at least once a week, usually more. "When it gets tough, embrace it, love it, and power through. While everyone else complains, you keep giving it your all. They won't know what hit 'em."
"Got it," Harry laughed a little, breaking some of his tension. They continued eating and conversing amongst themselves until breakfast was over. It was then time to part ways. While Harry had pre-game practice to attend, Ron and Hermione had plenty of homework to work on in the free time before tonight. The troops of Reaper team had a briefing to attend, plus a ready-check for all of their gear. It was going to be a busy day.
Less than an hour later, Brad and his team filed into a briefing room. It was an all hands day, and everyone above the rank of Sergeant was present for the meeting. Quidditch was one of the most high-profile events in the school, and that meant risk. Every eye turned toward the big game was one less looking out for Black, and if he wanted Harry this was a hell of an opportunity for it.
"If it ain't Mike…" SSGT Corbett, one of the guys from 3rd Platoon, shouted, raising his fists in a mock fight, "…Tyson!" He punched the air a couple times and broke out laughing, much to the amusement of the troops around him.
"Ah," Mike bowed his head, acknowledging the rip. Word traveled a lot faster than he'd expected, and he imagined he wouldn't live it down soon. "Didn't realize I was a champion."
"Champion?" one of the other sergeants said. "I'd have paid to see that bastard go down."
"I'd have paid to get the next hit in," a lieutenant chimed in. "Bastard had it coming. He-"
"Attention!" The shout reverberated through the room and everyone immediately stood at attention, facing the front of the room. They saw the Major walk in and regard them.
"Before we get this briefing under way, let me make one thing crystal clear." Major Price stood rooted to the center of the room, behind his podium. "You are absolutely authorized to end a fight by any means short of killing, and I expect you to do so. If, however, I find out one of you nails a student for mouthing off, I will personally choke slam you off the side of the motherfucking building. Clear?"
"Clear!" the group shouted as one, many of them trying to fight off grins. There was no doubt that the major was serious, but you had to love a good threat. More than one pair of eyes subtly went toward Mike. It was definitely something he wasn't going to live down.
"Good. Take a seat, there's a lot to go over." The Major turned on the dreaded PowerPoint screen as everyone found seats.
"The first Quidditch game of the season is due to start at 1630 hours. This is a target for a lot of reasons, chief of which is the fact that everyone in the school is going to be there. If our HVT wants to make a move against Harry, it's a solid time to do so. If he wants to sow destruction, it's an opportune time." The picture of a broomstick went away, switching to an aerial view of the grounds.
"Our task today is not going to be easy. We need a heavy security presence at the game, patrols to ensure nothing gets near it, and we need to keep the castle secure. We are dividing tasks as follows: 1st Platoon will remain at the castle and keep all entrances secure. 2nd Platoon will put two squads on interior patrol, the remaining two will be acting QRF." There were several nods of affirmation, and lieutenants were taking notes, planning their own portions of the operation out as assignments were made.
"3rd Platoon will secure the Quidditch pitch. Disperse a squad throughout the crowd to keep an eye out for anything suspicious, the rest on active watch. 4th Platoon, you guys have patrol of the grounds. Reaper, obviously keep your charges safe, whatever you need to do." Major Price clicked the mouse again and several arrows showed up on the map. "I'll leave individual assignments up to the Lieutenants. I want these routes covered though. 1st Platoon-" Price went on for almost an hour, detailing where he wanted units placed, what routes patrols would take and where the two QRF squads would be stationed.
Brad planned out his own unit's operation. They would wear full gear, he couldn't think of a reason they needed to blend in. And with the shit weather, lugging that heavy gear around might keep everyone warm.
He planned on stationing Mike and Eric in the stands with Hermione and Ron. That would cover them, and it left Brad with Jason to cover the ground. He decided he and Jason would stay at the ground, not on the pitch but right there. They would be able to watch the game and keep an eye on Harry, and if anyone moved on the field, the two operators would have an easier time responding.
"Any questions?" Price interrupted Brad's thoughts. Brad looked at his watch, it'd been a couple hours already. They needed to get gear in check, go over individual assignments and get to the game. "Alright, dismissed." No one needed to be told twice, their asses were sore enough from sitting and everyone was eager to get to their assignments.
Outside students ran to the stands, umbrellas whipping from their hands in the fury of the wind. Brad figured if they were planning to cancel the game for weather, it would have happened already. He wasn't sure how the players were supposed to play in this. It was almost impossible to hear the crowd, though they appeared to be cheering, over the rolls of thunder. Bright flashes of lightning struck across the sky. Hell of a game.
Across the field he saw a group of students in yellow robes forming. Hufflepuff was his best guess. He glanced behind himself to see the Gryffindor team in their scarlet robes. They looked like they were huddling for a pep talk, but whatever it was never came. Their team leader gave a nod and everyone headed into the weather. Brad gave Harry as encouraging a smile as he could muster, then it was back to business.
If ever there was cover for an infiltration, this was it. It was tough to see past all the rain pouring down. He scanned the ground level for anything out of the ordinary, and saw nothing. He looked back to the center just in time to see everyone kick off.
They struck across the sky rapidly, faster than he expected for travel on broomsticks. He had no idea who was who, and in the rain had trouble enough determining which streaks were what team. The brief flashes of lightning helped, but only just.
It seemed to go on forever, and he divided his attention between scanning the ground for any possible threat versus looking in the sky to try to determine what in the heck was going on. How the hell did wizards enjoy this shit? You couldn't tell what was happening.
A figure began walking toward the center of the pitch, and Brad readied his rifle for a threat. It only took a moment to figure out it was Madame Hooch, and a single figure swept down on their broom to her. She blew her whistle, which he could barely hear, but it looked like everyone figured it out, as the players swarmed to the grassy field. They divided by team and huddled under cover to talk, the Gryffindor team near enough that he could actually hear.
"We are up by fifty points," Wood shouted over another roar of thunder. "If we don't get the snitch though, we'll be playing into the night." That would be a problem in and of itself. It was already pretty dark outside, and the cold rain and wind wasn't making life easier.
Harry mentioned something about his glasses, and as if to punctuate his statement, Hermione and Mike appeared out of nowhere. Mike briefed Brad as Hermione did something to Harry's glasses.
"So far, nothing." Mike was wet, but not soaked to the bone like most of the others. Lucky bastard was under the cover with the rest of the students, providing a limited shield against the rain. "Poor kids, I bet they can't see shit up there."
"Yeah," Brad replied just in time for everyone on the team to break back for the field. Clearly the time out was over. Hermione and Mike rushed back to the stands, disappearing out of sight as the brooms kicked off again.
This time, Brad knew which speck was Harry, and did his best to follow. Harry was slowly patrolling above everyone, looking for what Brad assumed was the snitch. One of the other players waived his arms, getting Harry's attention. Brad followed their line of sight and saw a streak of yellow chasing something. Harry darted after them. They must have found the snitch. They both angled up into the sky. Hell of a sport…
"…act!" Brad's radio crackled to life, but it was covered with static and on top, hard to hear over the blasts of wind and rolling thunder. "..nd Squa….ltiple con…." Crack, crack, crack crack crack. Were those gunshots? Brad and Jason shared a look before a bluish white light struck up in the distance, next to one of the patrol paths. Several dark figures darted away into the sky and Brad could see muzzle flashes in the distance.
"Contact, 2nd Squad is in contact!" Brad shouted into his radio, hoping his would have better reception than the distant patrol. "Confirmed deployment of a Mark I, dementors are on the grounds!" Brad gripped his rifle tightly, readying for a fight. Another streak of lightning skipped across the sky, illuminating what had to be close to fifty dementors, they were everywhere.
The crowd, who was until that point cheering wildly at the game, started a brief panic. Soldiers in the stands were fighting to keep everyone calm as more and more muzzle flashes and gunfire ripped into the sky, targeting dementors that struck out at the stands. Two more of the intense bluish lights sparked in the stands as more Mark I packs were deployed.
In the distance, Brad saw a pair of Humvees racing toward 2nd Squads' location, the lead Humvee's gunner tearing into a cluster of the dementors with its M134 minigun. The six-barreled gun fired between 2000 and 6000 rounds per minute, and it looked like a laser cutting into the sky. The dementors struck down at the Humvees quickly, and the rear Humvee gunner started cutting into the sky as well.
The players didn't need any further notice, streaking toward the ground as fast as their broomsticks could carry them. All but one. High in the sky, he saw a streak of crimson plummeting toward the ground. No broomstick, no control, just a fall. Brad watched in horror for a moment before seeing one of the black hooded figures racing toward the fallen player. Brad and Jason both shouldered their rifles simultaneously at the distant target, each firing several rounds.
If their rounds found the target, it didn't seem to harm it any. It was clear the shots did the job however, as the dementor altered its course toward the two operators. Neither hesitated, both firing as fast as they could pull the trigger, before several streaks of silvery light erupted from the stands. The streaks raced out into the night, and the dementors immediately gave up whatever chase they in the middle of, fleeing from what Brad assumed were full Patronus charms.
In the middle of the field, Brad saw Professor McGonagall whipping her wand at the fast falling body. It slowed a lot, but not enough, impacting the ground with a soft thud. McGonagall closed the distance quickly, even as Jason and Brad sprinted over. Jason knelt, rifle ready and covering the sky, just in case. Brad pulled out his IFAK, spreading the first aid contents on the wet ground. Fuck me, that's Harry.
Harry was unconscious, no shock after a fall like that. Brad could see what looked like a fracture to Harry's left arm, and several bumps and cuts. He was putting a pressure dressing on a bloody wound to Harry's leg when Dumbledore made it to the site conjuring a stretcher and raising Harry silently to it. Brad had never seen such a furious look on the Headmaster's face, and it ran his blood cold. Dumbledore started toward the castle, Brad and Jason each bringing up a flank to escort. Behind them, the Professors and troops fought to sort the chaos out and get everyone safely to the castle.
Harry woke in the hospital wing. It took him a minute of lying there to work out what was going on. He ached all over, and he replayed the events in his mind. The cold air, the snitch, the dementors coming out of nowhere. That screaming woman, her voice sent chills up his back.
He struggled silently to sit up. Around him, he was surrounded by the soaking wet, muddy Gryffindor Quidditch team. Hermione was next to Mike and Ron, and she had an olive drab blanket draped over her shoulders. Mike was rubbing her back as she shivered.
In several other beds, there were soldiers drinking hot chocolate with haunted looks on their faces. They had several uniformed soldiers accompanying them, offering soft words of support.
"Harry!" Fred shouted, and all of the idle conversation stopped. "How're you feeling?"
"What happened?" Harry remembered some of it, but not all of it.
"The bloody dementors attacked," Ron said.
"You fell off your broom," George added, everyone was trying to chime in at once.
"We thought you'd died…" Alicia Spinnet still didn't look convinced that he was alive.
"Diggory caught the snitch…" Everyone else fell silent as Wood spoke up. He didn't betray any emotion, everything was matter of fact. "Didn't see you fall. He was good about it, tried to call a rematch. But he won, fair and square."
The conversation about Quidditch continued for a short time until Madam Pomfrey got back from talking to Professor Lupin and Dumbledore outside.
"For heaven's sake," she rushed forward, shooing at the visitors. "How's anyone supposed to recover with all this racket, go on!" With a little convincing, several of the visiting soldiers next to 2nd Squad were allowed to stay, along with Hermione, Ron, Mike and Brad. The other two operators were debriefing with Major Price, Mike and Brad having already done so.
"Did someone get my broom?" Harry asked, his heart sinking when he saw the looks on everyone's faces.
"Harry," Hermione started, trying to figure out how to say it. "When you fell…the wind…oh, it blew into the Whomping Willow." Harry sighed, trying to fight away the crushing feeling. The broom was one of his most prized possessions. He'd lost his first game, lost his broom…
"Is everyone else okay?" Harry glanced over at the soldiers occupying other beds.
"No one died," Brad spoke up. "2nd Squad got hit pretty hard by the dementors, but they fought well and no one died. It'll just take a minute to get everyone back up to strength. In fact, they're staying here the weekend, same as you."
Their conversation carried on a little bit longer, until Eric and Jason returned. It was time for everyone to get to bed, and since Harry was staying in the hospital wing, Eric and Jason were going to stay as well, while Brad and Mike would spend the night in the Gryffindor common room. After a round of goodbyes everyone left for bed.
Brad knew tomorrow was going to be a hell of a day. Dumbledore was livid, as was Major Price and everyone else in the task force. Tomorrow, he had no doubt that Minister Fudge was going to have a lot to answer for.