AN - I've been blown away by the number of views, thank you all for giving such a strange concept a shot. Comments are always welcome. Without further ado

It was still too dark to feel like morning and it already felt like a busy day. Brad left the common room under the care of Mike, long before others were awake. He knew that Major Price had plans for the day, and when he arrived at the Tactical Operations Center, he wasn't disappointed.

There was a veritable swarm of activity, all being led by a tired but alert Major. He was giving directions to one of the other officers who was furiously jotting down notes.

"Captain, good of you to join us." He beckoned Brad into the room, and they met in the center, where a large interactive map of the castle was laid out.

"What's the word, Major?" Brad asked, seeing several new additions to the security element at the school.

"I've got 24/7 sentry placement on these spots along the roof." He pointed them out. The vantage points, together, provided a 360 degree field of view around the castle. Nothing was getting close without alerting the sentries.

"That'll be a grueling task." Brad, same as everyone else in the Task Force, had been on guard duty at one point or another. It was not easy to stay focused and awake all the time, and with all the checkpoints, sentries and patrols, things were going to be running tight.

"I talked to Colonel Sumner last night, shortly after the incident," the major said, catching Brad's attention. He was curious how command was taking it. "The colonel said he would be here later today, and they're reinforcing us with another infantry platoon from Charlie Company."

"Not a lot, but every bit helps," Brad commented. Another fifty guys would definitely lighten the load around the castle.

"Their platoon, along with another sixty Mark I's should be here next week." The major tried to get more than sixty, but they needed a supply stateside as well. "Colonel should be here…" Price looked at his watch, "in another hour or two. Dumbledore should be summoning the Minister at some point, and we will get to the bottom of things."

"Good." Brad shook his head at the entire situation. "We almost lost Harry, they've got a lot of explaining to do."

Hermione's eyes shot open, her heart pounding hard. She was in her bed and she sat up slightly, feeling the weight of Crookshanks on her legs. The cat purred slightly, and rolled onto his back.

She'd been dreaming about the Quidditch game. When the lightning struck and she saw the shadows…she had never seen anything like it before. They were everywhere. Mike reacted faster than she could have expected, shoving her down to her hands and knees, shielding her with his body.

She felt the concussion of each round he fired, her eyes squeezed shut and her fingers in her ears. It didn't matter, it was still bright, still loud. When it quieted down for a second, she risked a peek and hated herself for the mistake. He wasn't done shooting, he was reloading. There was a dementor mere feet from them. Mike didn't stop, didn't falter or show fear.

With a practiced ease, he slid a new magazine in, racked the bolt forward and started firing. It didn't seem to hurt the dementor really, but it stopped the foul creature from advancing any further on them. She couldn't tear her eyes away at that point and her heart sank at the click. He began the process again, swapping magazines even as the creature barreled down on him. She could swear he was leaning into it as the creature closed in.

Words could not describe the relief that flooded through her as she saw a silver streak shoot past them. The dementor turned and darted away, chased by the light. Only after he scanned their surroundings, did he grab her hand and help pull her up. He had an unfamiliar look on his face, a mixture of concern and rage. Beside them, Eric was helping Ron to his feet.

"I'm sorry-" he started, but a fast movement behind him caught her eye. She gasped, and Mike turned around. They watched helplessly as Harry plummeted toward the ground. McGonagall raised her wand, slowing him but not stopping him. He hit the ground, hard and she was sure he died.

She couldn't help the tears that ran silently down her cheeks…it was too much too fast. She felt a hesitant arm around her shoulder and just leaned into it, letting the emotion flow. She wasn't sure how long she cried, the embarrassment of breaking down in public did nothing to ease the emotional overload. She heard him whisper that Harry was alive and was able to calm herself. She walked with him to the hospital wing in a bit of a stupor.

The rest of the evening had been a blur and she'd been so happy to just lay in bed. She'd felt so embarrassed, crying like that. She saw others crying as well, upset by the dementor attack. She had been in danger before, but this was something else. Perhaps it had something to do with the way dementors effect emotions, or so she told herself. She found some mild comfort in it.

She looked over at her clock. It was just after four in the morning, and judging by her rapid pulse, she wasn't falling asleep anytime soon. She pulled her feet from under Crookshanks, who protested with a grumbled meow, and got up.

Deciding that it was unlikely anyone else was up, she opted to stay in her favorite pajamas, a loose pink shirt and shorts with little panda heads all over them. They were distinctly muggle, a present from her mother last year. She decided she could study by the fire for a short time before getting ready for the day. There wouldn't be classes today, so she was certain everyone else would sleep in.

She quietly walked downstairs, A History of Magic in hand, and was pleased to see the fire was already going. She rounded the couch, mesmerized by the dancing flames, and sat. The couch was a lot firmer than she expected, and she yelped when it moved under her. She darted up, and looked down to see that she'd accidentally sat down on Mike.

He was in his fatigue pants and undershirt, and looked like he'd been up all night already. He sat up, clearing room on the couch and patting the seat next to himself. He rubbed his eyes a little, and she worked on calming her heart, sitting down next to him.

"Mornin' sunshine," he smiled at her. A glance at his watch confirmed that it was in fact much earlier than the usual wake up time, and when she hesitantly smiled back he grew a little more serious. "You alright?"

"Yeah," she nodded, maybe a little too quickly. Mike didn't move or respond, and the silence confirmed it. He didn't believe her, and honestly neither did she. "I thought we were going to…I don't know…I thought it was going to get us." She looked at him, and he bit his lip a bit with a concerned look.

"Me too," he agreed. She furrowed her brow a bit, not expecting that answer.

"You hid it well," she said, staring into the fire. She sat straight backed with her hands clasped between her knees. "I can't stop thinking about it. And Harry falling…."

"I know how it goes," he sat up a little straighter, a little closer to her. She relaxed into the couch a bit, letting the book slide off her lap and onto the other side of the couch. "It replays a lot. Just remember, it's done, and everyone is alright."

"You didn't look scared," she looked back at him, into his eyes. She tried to detect any idea of what went through his mind during the attack. He could tell she wanted the truth, that it would keep bugging her.

"I hit that thing dead on, and it didn't matter," he allowed the moment to relive in his mind. "It just kept coming closer, and I just decided to do everything I could to make it pay, make it regret coming after you…and me, all of us." He added the last part as an afterthought. "I wasn't sure I could stop it, and I was scared of what would happen if it got past me."

"It's like you said," she replied after a moment. "It's all over now, and everyone's okay." She felt bad about asking him to relive it. She'd wanted to know, but it was obvious that it bothered him too.

She sighed, and when she went to lean back, felt an arm slip around her shoulder. She leaned into it, eventually resting her head on Mike's chest. They didn't say anything more, she just tucked her feet under herself and sat there, listening to him breath and watching the fire dance. Before she knew it, they'd drifted off to sleep again.

Mike woke up with a sunbeam striking right into his eyes. He made to sit up, only to feel a weight on his chest. As he woke further, he gained better awareness of his surroundings. He felt a stirring against him and glanced down. A mess of bushy brown hair was pressed against his chest and his arm was laying out over her, holding her to him. He risked moving his hand slightly and was surprised to feel that her fingers were intertwined with his.

Without moving another muscle, he glanced at his watch. Just past six, someone was bound to wake up soon. It probably wouldn't do for them to be caught like this, but he hated the idea of moving anything. He felt like staying like this forever.

But that wasn't the responsible thing to do. He took a deep breath, raising her head higher in an effort to stir her. The plan backfired as she took a deep breath and snuggled closer to him. Mike dropped his head low in a moment of defeat, his willpower tested to its max. He really did not want to move.

Steeling himself, he moved to release his grip from hers and an electric jolt went through him as he found that his hand was resting on her bare abdomen. Her shirt had apparently climbed up as she slept, exposing just enough of her belly. In his surprise that they were holding hands, he hadn't realized that he was holding her there, and the adrenaline spike was almost painful. He fought hard to push the mostly unwelcome thoughts from his mind.

Evidently, his hammering heart was enough to stir her. Or perhaps she felt his fingers brushing just below her navel as he'd released her hand. Whatever it was she stretched, pulling her shirt back down as she sat up. He followed suit, sitting up and fighting to remain composed.

"Erm…" She took in her surroundings and had a moment to think about the position she woke in. Her cheeks flushed red as the awareness struck her. "Morning." She'd be lying if she said it wasn't the best sleep she'd had in a while, as unintentional as it had been.

"Morning," he repeated, breaking into a hesitant grin. It didn't seem that she was particularly bothered by anything.

"Er, I'd better get ready for the day." She stood up quickly, pressing her night clothes nervously. She gave him one more sheepish smile as she picked up her book and darted toward the girls' dorm. Mike sat for a moment, cooling off, and got up to get ready himself. With any luck, she'd want some company for breakfast.

"Colonel Sumner, I am pleased to see you could make it," Dumbledore greeted the soldier warmly. Sumner was flanked by Major Price and Captain Gordon.

"It's good to see you again, Headmaster." The Colonel snapped a sharp salute, mirrored immediately by the fellow officers. Dumbledore gestured for them to relax and opened his mouth in reply, only to be interrupted by Fawkes crying out.

"Alas, it would seem the time for pleasantries must wait." Dumbledore looked to the door for only a moment before Minister Fudge came in.

"If my chief of staff is to be believed," he started, taking off an overcoat and shaking it in the corner before turning back around, "the walls of the castle are coming down. Now, what my dear fellow could-" He cut short on noticing the silent soldiers.

"Sir," Colonel Sumner nodded toward the Minister. "There's a lot to discuss."

"Quite true, I'm afraid," Dumbledore agreed. "Have a seat Cornelius." The minister did so, but obviously was opposed to the addition of muggle troops.

"Dumbledore," Fudge started through narrowed eyes. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Yesterday, during the first Quidditch game," Dumbledore was presently able to retain his pleasant demeanor, something that was difficult last night. "A great many dementors attacked the grounds. Mr. Potter was almost killed…and several soldiers were hurt."

Colonel Sumner, at the mention of the troops, looked as though he tasted something sour. It was clear he was displeased. The Minister sat silent for a moment, before bursting in a large, placating smile.

"Surely, you're mistaken Headmaster-" he started before being cut off by a sharp retort from Dumbledore, who obviously did not take kindly to being talked down to.

"There were nearly fifty, and people were hurt." Dumbledore paused a moment. "This school is no place for dementors."

"My troops had to fight them off," the colonel added. "Your dementors attacked soldier and student alike. If it wasn't for the bravery displayed by my underequipped force, people could have died."

"Dumbledore, the dementors do not disobey orders from the Ministry." It was another canned response, one heard a hundred times as Fudge tried to push for their placement on school grounds. "If they were over the grounds, then the only logical reason is that they were pursuing Black. They probably only fought back when your panicky soldiers began taking potshots." Fudge seemed utterly convinced.

"There is no evidence Mr. Black was anywhere on school grounds at the time of the attack," Price said, resenting the implication that his men were anything but professional fighters. "Dementors swarmed one of my patrols and in a few minutes they were all over the grounds. No one saw any indication that Sirius was involved in the fray."

"If your men hadn't shot at official ministry personnel, perhaps he'd have been caught yesterday!" Fudge exclaimed, latching onto the idea. "Dumbledore, I really must insist that this not continue. The ministry should handle the security-"

"Minister, we will not discuss this again." Dumbledore's temper flared, surprising everyone in the room. "I was present yesterday, and will not allow you to slander the very men who protected my students. Recall your dementors to Azkaban."

"Or what, headmaster?" Fudge stood, obviously heated. "You are not Minister. Now I'll hear no more of this nonsense. Good day!" He turned sharply and exited, leaving the stunned silent muggles with the Headmaster.

"Fucking politicians…" Price muttered, breaking the silence.

"I was a rather popular choice for Minister of Magic," Dumbledore said. "I didn't run for office, and Fudge was the next most popular. I fear he resents that he was second choice."

"Doesn't excuse his actions. He's turning a blind eye to a very real threat to the school's safety," Brad replied, stating the sentiment shared by the rest of the task force.

"Blinded by resentment notwithstanding, he's in charge and we can't change that," Sumner said, getting straight to business. "I am sorry for the attack on the school, and sorry we couldn't keep them farther at bay."

"Quite alright, Colonel." Dumbledore was in fact very pleased with the bravery displayed by the muggle soldiers. Knowing their weapons could do very little to stop the threat, they fought anyway, buying time for the staff to mount a true defense. "Your men did an exceptional job given the circumstances."

"Agreed," Sumner said. "On that note, with your blessing, I'd like to deploy another platoon to the castle. We have a shipment of Mark I packs being prepared as we speak and I can have both here within the week."

"Of course," Dumbledore agreed. He felt certain that the Colonel knew what he was doing and would not steer them wrong. With the way things seemed to be going at the castle, the extra manpower would not be a bad thing.

"Excellent," Colonel Sumner stood, his officers standing with him. "I'll have the orders drawn up, headmaster." After a sharp salute and some parting remarks, the soldiers left, heading to the briefing room for a private debriefing on events around the school. Once it was all complete, they finished up. The colonel had a long flight back.

"Before you go, I wanted to talk about the Mark I's, sir," Price said. The colonel stopped, giving the major his undivided attention.

"Go on," he said.

"Sir, they work fine to get dementors off our backs, but it's inadequate for the task at hand." The colonel nodded, and Price continued. "The range is too short to meaningfully protect an event like the Quidditch game. And frankly, we need a lethal solution."

"We are working on a Mark II, but there are no guarantees. It's expensive." Sumner stood, grabbing his things. "Between us, there is word of a project to enchant Patronus ammunition. Might help with the range issue, but we will see. Until then, make do with what you've got." He saluted and was off toward his scheduled pickup. Major Price mentioned some administrative work to do, and Brad wanted to find his team anyway, so they parted.

Being that it was still time for breakfast, he decided to start with the Great Hall.

Brad's trip to the Great Hall was much more eventful than he would have anticipated. It was just past 0700, and students were up, heading to and from breakfast. He was stopped several times in the halls and thanked for repulsing the attack. Students regarded him with an admiration that wasn't there before and he found himself ill prepared for it.

He'd made it almost all the way down the staircase before he spotted Mike, cornered by a pair of third year Ravenclaw girls. He looked distinctly uncomfortable, even more so as one of the girls tried to rub his biceps.

"You were so brave yesterday!" she exclaimed, both girls giggling. They took another step closer, and Mike backed up the rest of the way, pinned between the wall and the two girls.

"Heh," he let out a nervous, joyless laugh as he hit the wall. "Just…the job…you know…CAPTAIN!" Mike shouted a little louder than he meant to, both girls jumping at the sudden shout. The relief on Mike's face was evident as he pushed his way past the two girls, who pouted slightly at his rebuff. "Gotta roll, duty calls."

"Mike," Brad greeted his fellow operator as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Mike joined him, keeping pace as they headed to the Great Hall.

"Damn, man," Mike said, looking over his shoulder as they walked on, seeing the two disappointed Ravenclaw girls still where he left them. "Suddenly it takes forever to hit the head because everyone wants to stop and talk."

"Not everyone loves us," Brad said as they passed a group of Slytherin students, all of whom gave a wide berth to the operators, scowls on their faces.

"Thank god," Mike replied, forming a half smile. "Maybe I'll start using their bathroom." The two made it to the table where Hermione, Ron, Jason and Eric were all almost finished with their food. Mike sat next to Hermione and got back into his meal while Brad started dishing up his own rapidly.

"So what'd Fudge have to say?" Jason asked, piquing the curiosity of everyone else at the table. While everyone wondered about what the Ministry would have to say, Hermione had brought up a rather scary worry. If the dementors were capable of ignoring Ministry orders, people could be in a lot of trouble.

"Denied the whole thing," Brad said, dumping the rest of the platter of eggs onto his plate. He was hungry and not going to mess around with neat scoops. "Said we brought it on, that they were probably chasing Sirius and we helped him escape."

"That's nonsense!" Hermione exclaimed, recalling the looming dementor clearly. "They were clearly trying to hurt us!"

"We know," Brad replied. "Sumner and Dumbledore are on it. We're getting reinforced with another platoon from Charlie Company next week and a shipment of Mark I's."

"At least someone is taking things seriously," Jason said. The others muttered their agreement as Brad wolfed down his breakfast. It was a general consensus that they should go visit Harry after breakfast, so when Brad cleared his plate everyone stood and readied to leave.

The conversation on the way over was strained, the group nervous to see how everyone had fared overnight. Their chatter died down as they neared the hospital wing, however. Loud voices were arguing from inside.

"I feel fine, I shouldn't have to stay today too!" It was Harry, and he sounded distressed. Not quite angry, but definitely upset.

"You were attacked by dementors!" Madam Pomfrey's voice was strained, as though she'd been arguing the same point for a while. "You almost died! You need to rest."

The group had paused outside the closed doors to the hospital wing, unsure whether they should interrupt. Brad made the decision for the group, opening the doors and walking in.

"Please, lay back-" the matron halted, a supremely irritated look across her face as Brad entered the room. The rest of his team followed suit, Ron and Hermione hesitated a little and stayed next to the door. "And what are you doing here?"

"Here to check on Harry," Brad said. He turned to Harry. "How are you?" Harry looked at him, still frustrated.

"I'm fine," Harry insisted, more to the matron than Brad. "I don't need to stay here anymore, I just want to move on."

"I disagree!" Pomfrey exclaimed.

"My bones are healed already!" Harry shouted, shaking his limbs exaggeratedly as proof. "I don't hurt anywhere, there is no reason to keep me!"

"Hmpf!" The school matron squinted her eyes at the young student. He had been a regular at her hospital wing since the year he arrived, and the trend didn't seem to be letting up. She took the safety of her charges seriously, and Dumbledore's concern for the boy only increased hers.

"Is there any medical necessity to keep him here?" Brad asked. She shot him a glare and he held his hands up in placation. "Any reason at all?"

"Well," she frowned, mulling the question in her head for a moment. "No, not really." She sighed in defeat as the young student slid out of his hospital bed and headed for the door. "Try not to get hurt again!" she called after him. The group filed outside the room after him.

"Good to see you up and at 'em, buddy," Mike greeted Harry, only to be met with a scowl as the boy turned around.

"Shut up!" he cried out. "Where were you yesterday!? When my broom was being destroyed? When I was falling from the sky!?" His face was flush with emotion, and he looked at each of them in turn. No one said anything in reply, and he gave a joyless laugh. "That's what I thought." He turned on his heels and stalked off.

"Damn…" Mike said, the first to speak. "Dude's got some issues."

"He's stressed," Brad said. "Give it a little time, I bet he snaps out of it. Yesterday was a long one."

"Yeah, no kidding," Jason said.

"Let's give him a bit," Brad repeated. They'd figure something else out for the day.

Harry walked down the halls lost in thought. He'd finally fallen asleep but only after the first peek of light was coming through the windows. The night was filled with the pain of bones fusing together. The potion worked wonders and admittedly it was nowhere near as painful as growing an entire limb's worth. Still, it had been enough to keep him awake for most of the night. It seemed he'd just fallen asleep when he was woken up by the matron checking in on him. It was almost impossible to fall asleep after that. He felt tired but couldn't turn his mind off.

He was replaying the same several things in his mind. The dementor attack, hearing the woman scream about him. He was almost sure it was his mother. He didn't know who else would be begging for his life.

Inevitably he would wind up thinking about his Nimbus. That broom had been his pride and joy, a gift from Professor McGonagall when he first joined the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He'd put it to good use too, not losing a game with it. Well, not until dementors interrupted the game.

This cycle had run through his head most of the morning and when the school matron came to check on him again his frustration had boiled over. He'd felt better once everything had mended and he'd wanted to go. He'd wanted to get away from the hospital wing where the only thing he could think about was his utter incompetence in the face of a dementor and the loss of one of his most prized possessions. The matron wasn't having it, of course.

She'd argued tooth and nail until Brad showed up and pointed out the lack of necessity. Harry hated that it was ultimately Brad who convinced her, but took the opportunity to leave. In his tired state of irritation however, he wasn't prepared to thank Brad. No, Brad had 'rescued' him again, and Harry felt tired of it. He didn't want to need rescuing. He didn't want to be in any position to require it in the first place, let alone not being able to dig himself out.

As he walked on he grew to regret blowing up at them. They'd helped him a lot, keeping him safe. Knocking out Malfoy had been a huge plus, something he knew McGonagall would flip out about if he had done so. No, he felt he'd been too harsh with them.

"Harry?" a voice called, breaking the young student from his wandering thoughts. Harry looked up to realize he was now standing in Professor Lupin's office. The professor was sitting behind his desk and wore a concerned look.

"Professor… Er…." Harry trailed off. He hadn't intended to come to the Defense Against the Dark Arts room but apparently his feet had taken him there anyway. Now, he wasn't sure what to say.

"I heard about the game," Lupin said, gesturing for Harry to sit at his desk. Harry complied, relieved that the Professor had spoken up first. "I'm sorry about your broomstick. Any chance of fixing it?"

"No," Harry sighed, the wound still fresh. He was going to miss that broom. "The tree smashed it to bits." The professor frowned.

"They planted that tree my first year here, you know?" Lupin gave a partial smile as he reminisced about old times. "We used to play a game, trying to touch the tree trunk without getting hit. Until someone almost lost an eye. We were forbidden to go near it."

Harry nodded, finding it mental that anyone would want to try and reach the trunk of that tree. After the car incident last year, he'd had enough of it.

"No," Lupin sighed, leaning back into his chair. "I suppose a broom wouldn't stand much of a chance."

"Did…" Harry started, and his voice stopped. He cleared his throat, and the professor focused more intently on Harry. "Did you hear about the dementors, then?"

"Yes, I did," Lupin started. "I don't think anyone has seen Dumbledore so angry. I suppose they're the reason you fell?" Harry slowly nodded his head for a moment.

"Why?" The question burst out of his mouth, though he hadn't intended to ask. The professor opened his mouth, but Harry continued. "Why do they affect me like that? Am I just we-"

"It has nothing to do with weakness," Lupin said sharply, knowing the end of Harry's question. "The dementors affect you more than others because you have horrors in your past, unlike many of the others here."

Harry nodded. Lupin saw some level of understanding, but not enough.

"Dementors are among the foulest creatures to roam the earth," Lupin said, standing up from behind the desk to take a seat next to Harry. "They infest the darkest, filthiest places in the world, and they thrive on despair. They're enough to reduce the happiest man to a weeping mess. With such violence in your past your emotions are a feast to them. It's enough to make anyone fall from their broom." Lupin stared into Harry's eyes intently, searching for understanding.

"Yeah…" Harry understood, Lupin could see that much. However, his face remained blank. "Whenever they come near I hear Voldemort murder my mum…" Harry's expression was pained, and Lupin gripped Harry's shoulder comfortingly.

"Why did they have to come to the match?" Harry asked bitterly. Lupin paused a moment before answering.

"Dumbledore hasn't allowed them onto school grounds." The professor sat back, deciding to give Harry the full truth. "Without a steady supply of human prey they're hungry. The emotions running high at the game must have seemed like a buffet."

"Hmm," Harry frowned as he thought about it. "You," Harry said a little more excitedly, "you made the dementor on the train back off. And the professors, they sent them running at the game."

"Yes," Lupin admitted. "There are certain defenses one can use but the more dementors there are, the harder they become to resist."

"What defenses?" Harry asked. Lupin paused a moment and Harry decided to press further. "If they come back for me again I need to be able to defend myself…you could teach me. The soldiers can only do so much." He made a mental note to apologize for blowing up at them. He'd known he was out of line, yelling at everyone so much. He was just tired of being helpless.

"I can't pretend to be an expert at fighting dementors, Harry," Lupin said, feeling the conversation spiraling toward something bigger than he'd anticipated. He knew Harry was a natural in Defense, but learning a Patronus…it was no easy feat.

Harry continued looking at Lupin pleadingly, and Lupin wore down first.

"Alright, I'll see what I can do to help," he said causing Harry's heart to hammer in his chest. He wasn't going to be a sitting duck anymore. "It'll have to wait until next term I'm afraid. I have much to do before the holidays."

"Of course, Professor." Harry barely comprehended the words after Lupin's initial 'yes.' "Thank you, sir."

Harry spent the rest of the day milling about the school, which he found exhausted him. He went to bed early and was fast asleep by the time anyone else made it to the common room.

The following morning Harry was last to wake up. No one had left for breakfast yet, instead they were sitting around and listening intently. Harry silently crept down the stairs as Mike animatedly told the finishing touches of a story.

"I shit you not," he said, laughing. He took a breath to finish. "The Cap just blew…had enough. Told everyone to prepare to breach…you know, we line up outside the door…we're wondering how the hell he's planning on getting us in. We worked that door over…yeah, Brad here just walks down the hall, turns and gets a running start and just hucks himself into the door!" At this point, Mike can't seem to continue, laughing too hard. The infectious laugh had the others in the room joining in. "Folded the damn thing in half…."

"We took the room though," Brad said, smiling. "Damn instructors, thought they were gonna keep us out." Brad looked up at the staircase and saw Harry smiling. "Come on down, man."

The crowd quieted down, but not uncomfortably. No, Harry just had a look that said he had something to talk about.

"Hey, guys," Harry said, standing next to where Ron was sitting. Mike sat on the couch between Hermione and Jason, while Brad and Eric both had chairs next to the fireplace. "I wanted to apologize-"

"Hey, you're good, man." Mike said with a grin. "Tough day, we get it."

"Still, I was out of line. I know you were trying to help…I just hate feeling useless…like I can't defend myself." Harry caught a look between Mike and Brad, and said nothing further.

"Just saying…" Mike said, not elaborating further. Brad sighed, but didn't seem overly concerned.

"Mike mentioned that you guys might enjoy some practice…" Brad trailed off only continuing when everyone waited. "We could take you to the range today, practice some shooting…maybe a little hand-to-hand."

"What, like fighting?" Ron asked, trying not to get his hopes up. As the youngest boy in the family, he'd had his share of getting picked on. Getting to learn some fighting outside the family would have its merits. Meanwhile, Hermione gave Mike a skeptical look, which he replied to with a smug look.

"Well, not fighting exactly. A mixture of training and playing would be a better way of putting it," Brad said. The boys looked sold but Hermione had a concerned look.

"It's a learning experience, nothing more," Mike said, flashing his bright smile at her. "Only this time, I get to do the teaching." She'd been concerned, wondering what Dumbledore might think of the soldiers teaching combat to the students. This wasn't exactly combat and it was hard for anyone to argue that they didn't have a penchant for danger, and knowing how to defend oneself was paramount to survival.

"Okay," she said, and somehow Mike's smile got bigger.

"Great," Brad said, "we can hit the range after breakfast."

After breakfast the Reaper operators lead the three students to the armory where they got into full gear and selected a few items to bring along for training. Brad gave them each a set of fatigues to change into, telling them that robes wouldn't be appropriate for the work they were doing.

Half an hour later they'd made it to the makeshift firing range. It was clear on the other side of the lake, and some enchantments provided by Professor Flitwick kept the sound from waking anyone up. The good professor also agreed to come out and touch the range up twice a week, waving his wand to repair damage to the ground and targets. This was in exchange for a series of fiction fantasy novels one of the soldiers had brought along, which Flitwick found 'delightful' and had recently told Brad he was reading for a second time this year.

"Alright, so this is the range." They stopped at a set of tables, Mike and Eric setting their boxes on one while Jason set his heavy M249 SAW onto the other. The three students took it all in. To their left, closest to the lake were several thick dummies on heavy poles. To the right and closest to the Forbidden Forest there were several smaller tables lined up with targets all at the same distance. Directly ahead lay the heart of the target range, dozens of targets at varying distances, some completely visible and some hidden under cover.

"So…" Hermione asked, "what do we do?"

"Well…" Brad found he wasn't exactly sure. He looked them over, noticing Ron ogling the hand-to-hand dummies, while Hermione was looking more nervously at the distant target range. "We'll split up. Jason and Eric, you two take Ron over the hand-to-hand range and run him through the basics. Mike, you and Hermione can go to the CQC range and work with handguns. Harry and I will stay and do some shooting here. Sound good?"

"CQC?" Hermione looked at Mike questioningly.

"Close quarters combat," Mike smiled. There were various murmurs of approval as everyone set about their tasks.

"Alright," Brad said, pulling the magazine out of his rifle and locking the bolt back, clearing it before holding it out to a very hesitant Harry. "This is my rifle, an HK416." Harry accepted the weapon, looking it over. "It has a thirty round magazine," Brad waved the mag he was holding, "firing the standard 5.56mm round out to about 300 meters. This one has some sweet, sweet modifications that I could bore you with but let's get you shooting, huh?"

Harry handed the rifle back, feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement. He'd seen guns in movies plenty of times, but was generally unfamiliar with them. He paid close attention as Brad started walking Harry through the proper procedures.

A little further down the line Mike and Hermione were standing at a table in the middle of the CQC range. It was where they preferred to practice use of handguns and other close quarter's weapons.

"Any questions?" Mike asked, having gone over all of the general gun safety rules. Hermione shook her head no. "Good, so here ya go." He set the handgun down on the table, placing the loaded magazine next to it.

"Right." She hesitated only for a moment before picking up the gun, feeling the weight in her hand. It was an HK USP .40 Cal, designed by the same manufacturer as their standard rifles. She turned it over, looking at it, finding the safety easily enough.

"So, you put the magazine in, and then hit that lever next to your thumb to release the slide." She did so, just as he had shown her earlier, and was still surprised at the force when the slide rammed itself forward. "Great, so now you're live…got one in the chamber."

"Okay, so…" she said, trying to remember what he'd said. It had been a lot of information at once.

"Feet shoulder width apart, aim downrange and line up those sights, just like we talked about." Mike smiled at her as she complied, though she couldn't see it. The fatigues she wore suited her, bringing out her curves in a way he'd not often seen. He found he liked it.

"Safety, then pull…" she said out loud to herself, breaking Mike from his lapse in concentration. He shook his head a little, affirmed her that she was ready to go and waited.

Crack! She yelped a little and jumped back as the weapon kicked in her hand. He'd warned her that it would but she still found herself unprepared and almost dropped it. Mike didn't seem to mind though, as he beamed at her.

"Deadshot!" he exclaimed, turning her confused attention to the target. It was in the second ring from the middle. "Can't ask for much better on your first shot!" His genuine smile was more than she could bear, she smiled as well.

The day carried on much the same, everyone trying all of the different weapons and trying their hand at striking and kicking dummies. Ron, it turned out, preferred a bit of a thrashing fighting style, just moving body parts and hoping to strike something. A few hours of sparring with Jason had him aiming, which was a drastic improvement.

Harry was actually a natural with the rifle, proving a decent shot at the end of a day of getting used to it. He'd also done fairly well in his sparring match with Brad, landing a particularly good blow to the captain's nose.

Hermione, it turned out was not a natural with firearms. She'd grown frustrated with the weapons after her first shot turned out to be mostly luck. Even when the others were done, she was determined to get it right and so she stayed with Mike at the range. Mike was patient with her, and when she decided she'd had enough shooting he was encouraging, telling her it wasn't for everyone.

"Hell, you're a witch, right?" Mike asked. Hermione's face was red in frustration and embarrassment. "Use your wand, show those targets who's boss."

"That would be cheating," Hermione said, her voice breaking slightly as she fought to calm herself. She worked to pack the rest of her gear into its case, focusing hard on it. She hadn't failed at a lesson so spectacularly in a long time. She was a natural learner, and after all day had nothing to show for it.

"Listen to me," Mike said, deadly serious. It caught her off guard, and she looked up. "There is no cheating in a fight. You do what you've gotta do to win. Guns, knives, hands, teeth…wands…they're all tools to get the job done. You're good at magic, use that. Don't worry about the other crap."

She was taken aback by it but it made a certain sense. She was so focused on being good at shooting the gun that she'd lost focus on what she was really doing…fighting. Protecting herself, whatever it was called. Just because it wasn't a gun didn't mean she couldn't defend herself.

"Give it a shot," Mike said softer, gesturing toward the targets. Hermione's blood was still pumping hard, her frustration not fully forgotten. There was one spell she'd read about that she'd had no way of trying before. It was supposed to be destructive, and she hadn't been in a place to give it a try before. She took a step toward the targets, pulling her wand out.

"Bombarda!" she shouted. A white pulse shot from her wand straight into the target, obliterating it and the ones on either side of it, in a loud explosion. It was much more destructive than she'd thought it would be, and she turned to Mike in horror. She had destroyed half of the CQC range.

"Holy shit!" Mike shouted distantly. Only he was close to her, and it took her a second before she realized her ears were ringing. She could see him shaking and she hesitantly grinned when she figured out what was going on. Mike was laughing. Hard.

"I'm sorry?" It was half statement and half question. Judging by his reaction he wasn't upset.

"Sorry?" Mike said, straightening up as he tried to stop the fit of laughter. "That was amazing! Stick to magic, girl!" He closed the short distance between them and hugged her. It was quick, over before she'd have liked. They packed up the gear and headed back, Mike admiring her magical prowess the entire way.