AN - Sorry for the small update, I was just focusing on getting something out. This one is a little bit longer. Hope you folks enjoy!
"This really is a lot nicer," Eric said as the four of them walked along a narrow road. It was a cool morning and the group was walking on pavement, a significant improvement over the oppressive heat and uneven footing of their last several weeks in Africa.
"No sun trying to kill us...no bugs trying to kill us...no people trying to kill us...yeah, I can dig it," Mike said, slapping away a branch that was in his path. The hedges growing along either side of the road were almost oppressive, and it made them a little uneasy. After several weeks in hostile territory, it was difficult to give up their habits. They were once again in friendly territory, but getting out of a fighter's mindset wasn't an easy thing.
"Yeah, couldn't get rid of the ruck though," Jason said, hefting his backpack. They were large civilian duffel bags, and the interior was stuffed with their gear. The operators had fit their plate carriers, helmets, ammunition, and disassembled rifles into the duffles, stuffed with extra uniforms to keep it from looking weird from the outside.
They looked like hikers rather than tourists, but that wasn't entirely uncommon in this area. Devon, England had seen its share of American tourists eager to go out and hike the nature trails, only to realize their trip landed them more in farm country than anything else. Most got a cab to take them elsewhere, but there were always a few each year that stubbornly stuck to walking.
They'd flown in to Exeter Airport and gotten off of their airplane in civilian clothes. Brad was wearing blue jeans and a black polo, an olive green jacket over top and a tan baseball hat. He had spent so long trying to blend with the environment that he couldn't wrap his head around wearing bright colors. He could only justify going so far to blend in with the locals.
He shifted his shoulder holster uncomfortably. He'd never been a fan of the concealed carry, especially right underneath his armpit. Yeah they did the job, but he felt much more comfortable with his handgun on his hip or leg. Instead, he carried his HK USP underneath his left arm where it would be a little more difficult for someone to spot it.
"Car," Jason said lazily, and they all shifted as close to the hedges on one side as they could. It had become a routine since they'd left the taxi in Ottery St Catchpole. It wouldn't be a good idea to take the taxi all the way to a wizarding home. One could only imagine what the driver would see. So instead, they opted to take the roads out to "The Burrow" on foot. It was a strange title for a home, and it gave Brad the image of a small shack that opened up underground, a family of mole-people living in it.
He knew it was an absurd mental image, and yet it stuck. He was hugging the side of the road with the rest of the team when a car drove past them, back toward town. So far, there had been zero traffic going away from Ottery St Catchpole.
Once the car made it past them, Brad pulled his SOLDA device from his pocket, checking the GPS for progress. Normally he'd wear it on his wrist, but in this case it would be a dead giveaway that he was military. It had that rugged, efficient, military look to it. No aesthetic taken into consideration. That was fine in the field of battle, but maybe not so much when you're behind friendly lines without much permission.
"What's the good word?" Mike asked, having seen Brad check the GPS.
"As soon as we find a break in the hedge, to the left, we can head through. Another mile after that and we should be there." They walked silently, enjoying the peace and quiet that was only interrupted by sounds of nature. They found a spot and crept through the hedges before setting across the field.
Fields, plural, would have been more accurate. The first was, of course, a cow pasture. The large grazing animals could not have cared less about the interlopers, but it forced the operators to slow down to avoid stepping in manure. It wouldn't do to show up at the Weasley home smelling like a sewer.
In the end, they'd had to hop two fences and scale another hedgerow before finally making it to The Burrow. It was nothing like what Brad had imagined. Rather than digging underground, it stretched upward. It had a cobbled, unstable look to it that made him wonder about the structural integrity.
They walked quickly to the front door and heard the clamoring of a mealtime inside. The smell of eggs and bacon wafted through open windows, and against his wishes, Brad's stomach growled. It had been quite a while since he'd eaten regular food, not that MRE bullshit they'd brought with them. He didn't count the food that the African tribesmen prepared either; it was too strange and different for him to really think of it in the same class as eggs and bacon.
Mike stepped forward and rapped on the door. "Here goes nothing, eh?" There was a shuffling inside as someone came to the door and opened it. It was Hermione, and there was only the briefest hesitation as she registered what she was seeing. She looked at Mike and tears welled in her eyes as she squealed in delightful surprise, jumping out the door to embrace him.
He hugged her back tightly for a long moment. Inside the chatter died down. It occurred to Brad that no one inside knew what was happening, blocked by the door as they were. He stepped past the reunited pair and into the home.
"Hey, we made it," he said, seeing several familiar, and many unfamiliar faces.
"Brad!" Harry exclaimed, jumping out of his seat. Ron stood as well to greet him. "This is Capt. Gordon, from last year," Harry explained to the others. By that point, Mike, Hermione and the rest of the team had stepped through the doorway.
"That wasn't fair," Hermione said, wiping away her eyes. "Surprising us like that..." They weren't tears of joy or sorrow, just overwhelming emotion. She truly hadn't expected to see him again.
"It's wonderful to meet you, dear," Mrs. Weasley said graciously, still looking a little confused. "I'm afraid we weren't expecting you." As if to punctuate this, there was a loud snap as Mr. Weasley appeared in the dining room. He rushed to his wife, ignoring all else.
"Molly," he said, grabbing her hand to get her attention. "I only just got word...Dumbledore has sent for several of the muggle soldiers from last-" Mr. Weasley drew off as his wife looked pointedly toward the front door. When he looked over and saw the four newcomers he sighed. "Ah, a little late then."
"Perhaps a little," Mrs. Weasley said. "Now, why did Dumbledore send for them?"
"He wants them to accompany us to the Quidditch Cup. A little added protection for Harry, by the sound," Mr. Weasley said. There was another pop as Percy appeared beside his father in the kitchen.
"Bad news, I'm afraid," he said. "Dumbledore went and invited a bunch of muggle soldiers to stay with us, can you believe it?" He sounded incredulous.
"Well, we don't mean to intrude," Brad said, loud and clear. Percy whirled around and spotted them.
"Oh, I-" Percy scrambled to find something diplomatic to say, but Brad interrupted. He had no patience for faux diplomacy.
"We are here to escort Mr. Potter here to the game and back," Brad gestured toward Harry. "We'll do our best not to intrude and please, let us know if there is something we can do to pull our weight while we're here."
"Of course, I'll just have a word with my husband," Mrs. Weasley said, taking her husband aside. She spoke in hushed tones but years of struggling to make herself heard in a rowdy house showed, and her words were clear as day. "Dumbledore thinks soldiers are necessary? What does he think is going to happen there?"
"I spoke with him about just that," Mr. Weasley said. "He's got no reason to think something is going to happen but he's reviewed the Ministry security precautions for the event. You know how cautious he likes to be, and he just wants to make sure Harry is safe."
"I don't know, Arthur," his wife sighed. "It just feels like last time, when he was coming to power..."
"We're going to be fine, dear," Mr. Weasley squeezed his wife's shoulders reassuringly and kissed her forehead. He then turned to the newcomers. "You're quite welcome, though I'm afraid we are reaching the capacity of our home."
"That won't be an issue, sir," Brad said. Mr. Weasley had a pensive look on his face, as though he was looking for some way to fit four more individuals in the house. "My team and I are very comfortable sleeping outside."
"Oh, surely that won't be necessary," Mrs. Weasley looked horrified at the idea and looked to her husband for support. Before he could speak, however, Brad continued.
"We've been on an extended deployment for the last several weeks and I can assure you we are as comfortable outside as you are inside." Brad noticed his three teammates nodding in assent. He was pretty certain that this house couldn't possibly fit four more people without causing a lot of resentment, and he was already feeling bad for dropping in unexpected.
"If you're certain," Mrs. Weasley said. She still wore a look that spoke of discomfort.
"We insist," Brad replied, "We're not here to be a burden." Brad turned to Ron, noticing that he, Harry, and Hermione had finished their breakfasts. "I don't suppose you could show us around outside so we know what we're dealing with."
"Sure." Ron jumped up. "We'll just be outside for a bit." They worked their way outside, allowing the rest of the Weasley's to discuss the newcomers in private. It was also a good chance to catch up.
"I still can't believe you're here," Hermione said as they made it to the garden.
"Yeah, me either." Mike tried to keep the smile off his face. They were walking at the rear of the group, Hermione's arm wrapped in his as she leaned against him comfortably.
"Should've guessed it," Jason said. "I mean, who else was it gonna be?" They'd speculated throughout the first half of the flight about who they could possibly be protecting in Britain, of all places. All of them felt a little foolish when they heard it'd be Harry and the gang.
"Hindsight's twenty-twenty, Jason." Brad came to a stop when Ron did. They were in the middle of the garden, close to the house but not too close. The small patch they were in was reasonably flat, considering the hills and tall grass that spread in every other direction.
"This is probably the easiest spot to sleep," Ron said, then getting a thoughtful look. "But, you might have to deal with some garden gnomes."
"We can do that," Brad replied.
Ron showed them the whole property, inside and out, before they settled in the Quidditch pitch to catch up. They talked about the happenings of the summer so far. Ron filled them in on his dad winning the Ministry contest; Harry told them about his summer at Grimmauld Place and living with Sirius. When Harry brought up Sophia, Eric buried his face in his hands as the others laughed, and he received a solid punch in the shoulder.
"I told you!" Jason laughed, "I told you!"
"How!?" Eric cried out in mock agony. "He was in prison!"
"That guy was so a ladies man!" Jason said.
"There was a little bet going, if you guys hadn't guessed it." Brad filled the others in on the declassified version of their summer.
Hermione and Mike were barely a part of the conversation as a whole. They spent the entire time chatting between themselves. It seemed like they'd picked up where they left off, as though it'd only been yesterday that the team had departed.
They talked and caught up for the rest of the day. Harry and Ron sparked a pickup Quidditch match involving almost the entire family. Ron, Bill, Fred and George were on one team against Harry and Charlie, and much to her surprise, Ginny. It had been decided that Charlie, as an ex-Gryffindor Captain and Harry as the current seeker were the ones everyone wanted to beat. Two people did not make a team though, and Ginny was added to help even the teams out.
They had a partially deflated soccer ball that was used as a makeshift Quaffle. The match went on for quite some time, and really it only ended because it was getting dark enough that seeing the 'Quaffle' was proving challenging. Harry had to give Ginny credit, she made a mean keeper. Of course, his praise left her face nearly as red as her hair. By the end of it no one had a clear idea who had won, but everyone was exhausted and ravenous.
At dinner Brad got the chance to learn a little about the Weasley family. He found out that Mr. Weasley and Percy both worked at the Ministry, though only one of them thought highly of himself because of it. Bill, he learned, was a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts bank, working in Egypt.
"You wouldn't believe the kinds of things the Egyptians thought up!" Bill exclaimed when Brad had inquired about the job. "Incredibly creative, that bunch was."
"Level with me, are mummy's real?" Mike asked, taking a large bite of potatoes.
"Dude, mummy's are obviously real," Eric replied before Bill could answer. "They're in museums, that is straight fact."
"Eric..." Mike closed his eyes in mock exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Obviously," he said, repeating the same tone, "I am talking about living mummy's." Bill laughed in good nature.
"Yeah, actually. Harmless for the most part, unless you stumble on a particularly powerful one." Bill's gaze shifted as he recalled an encounter. "There was one outside of Elkab...well, Gringotts doesn't like us talking too much detail about it all, but let's just say it took four of us just to trap the thing back in its temple. Sealed the thing, more trouble than it was worth."
"That's nuts!" Mike exclaimed. The childlike grin on his face was contagious. "I can't even imagine fighting a mummy..." he trailed off, content to imagine the scenario as the conversation went on.
The rest of the dinner consisted of answering questions for Mr. Weasley. It turned out that he had developed a significant interest in muggle technology, while simultaneously fostering a near complete lack of understanding. Flashlights boggled his mind and he had a lot of questions about batteries. After the meal he and Brad continued the discussion about muggle items. He spent almost half an hour explaining the way a firearm worked and, though he couldn't explain how or why it worked, he allowed Mr. Weasley to try on his helmet to look through the night optics.
"That's absolutely incredible!" he marveled. "It's awfully green but I can see as sure as day!" He waved his hand back and forth in front of his face, smiling from ear to ear.
"It gives us quite an edge at night," Brad said, accepting the helmet back when Mr. Weasley was satisfied.
"I should think so." He was still grinning when he looked around and noticed that everyone else had headed inside. "Well, I suppose we'd better get some rest. It's an early day tomorrow."
"Yeah, that's probably a good idea. We will be ready when you are," Brad said. They parted ways and Brad met the rest of his team in the garden.
"I swear I'm gonna kill that little bastard," Jason said, eyeing a nearby bush.
"Having issues?" Brad tried to see what Jason was looking at, but couldn't find it.
"Those gnomes, man." Mike said. He, too, was eyeing a bush. "They have a wicked bite, and they're fast." Mike made the mistake of looking at Brad when he spoke and, sure enough, a small, potato-headed looking creature darted out from the bush and bit Mike on the hand. He swore, but was in luck. Eric had been paying attention and swung his baton, catching the little thing in the back of the head and toppling it over.
"Take that!" Eric cried out in victory. The gnome was helped up by its fellow from the bush next to Jason and they limped off away from the garden.
"Little bitch," Mike said, nursing his hand.
"Get some rest, guys." Brad rolled out his sleeping bag. "Gonna be an early one tomorrow."
Brad woke up at first light the following morning. Jason was pulling security, though that was more out of habit than any real threat they expected. It simply felt wrong to sleep outside without someone pulling security. Brad woke the other two and they set about their morning tasks.
Brad pulled on a pair of blue jeans and threw on a sandstone undershirt that he usually wore with his MultiCam uniform. It worked as a regular shirt though, he thought. He pulled on a tan Oakley hat that he bought back home. After eyeing the shoulder holster with distaste, he put it on, silently wishing the op called for full gear. Once the holster was in place, he put a gray jacket on that was fitted just perfectly to keep his holster out of view.
"Done getting ready, diva?" Mike asked as Brad adjusted the sleeves to his jacket. Brad looked up and, sure enough, the others were all ready.
"Can it," Brad said with a grin, eyeing his team. They were all dressed in combinations of matte colors. It was a bit of a lost cause, trying to prevent them from looking military. Though they were obviously too young, it was in the way they carried themselves. Still, it was better than camo and vests.
It wasn't long before the lights were on inside the home. Mr. Weasley had been serious about the early start, but that was par for the course as far as the operators were concerned. While they waited for the rest of the party to be ready, the operators double checked their weapons, fidgeted with holsters to make them comfortable, and checked their micro-bud radios.
A single earpiece and a flesh colored throat mike that kept them in contact with one another. It started transmitting after the word "Reaper" to keep them from going crazy listening to four conversations at once. It was a newer piece of tech that their CIA contact had on-board the plane, "tactically acquired" by Mike. As he'd explained it, it was the operatives fault for having his secure storage open, really.
"Sweet merciful Jesus," Mike whispered, catching Brad's attention. Mr. Weasley had emerged proudly from his house, sporting yellow and red plaid golfing sweater and a ratty pair of jeans that were several sizes too big, all held up by a ridiculous looking leather belt. On his back was a pink backpack with daisies on it.
"I've studied muggles enough to know their attire, you see," Mr. Weasley was apparently carrying on a conversation from inside. His boys nodded a half-hearted agreement, almost all of them still at least partially asleep. "Where are the girls, then?" Harry made a throat cutting motion as Brad opened his mouth to ask about the outfit.
"Here," Ginny chimed in cheerfully. She and Hermione emerged from the door, looking almost as energetic as Mr. Weasley.
"Right," he said, pulling his large parchment tickets from a pocket that was too small to house them. "Looks like everything is in order. Shall we?"
Brad motioned for Jason and Eric to take the lead with Mr. Weasley while he stayed back with Mike. He wasn't surprised to see Ginny and Hermione step in alongside him as well.
"Where're Bill and Charlie?" Ron asked sleepily, only just noticing their absence.
"Well, they're apparating, aren't they?" Mr. Weasley answered, as though it was the simplest thing in the world. "Won't take but a moment, so they're sleeping in."
"Why can't we apparate?" Ron almost whined it, earning a shove from his little sister.
"Because you're not of age, of course." Mr. Weasley seemed unfazed by the attitude of his son. "Come on, it's a bit of a walk."
"Wait," Ron had a look of horror, "we're walking?"
"Well, just to the Portkey." It took a few steps before Mr. Weasley realized that most of the group hadn't understood what he was talking about. "Almost a hundred thousand wizards show up for the Cup, see? Problem is, we don't have a magical site big enough to accommodate that many people, so we just pick a pretty empty spot and set up as many anti-muggle charms as we can. Then, most people show up by apparating or Portkeys."
"And what exactly is a Portkey?" Harry asked, saving Brad the trouble.
"Oh it's an enchanted bit of rubbish usually, something unobtrusive. Don't want the muggles picking them up. The magic of it is a bit complex I'm afraid, but it takes you from one place to another, then back."
"Contact, right," Eric said coolly over the radio. "Two males, top of the hill." Brad shifted his gaze to the spot while Mike checked behind them and to the left, out of habit. Keeping your head on a swivel was a matter of life or death on deployment and right now, they considered themselves deployed. Even in a friendly country, you couldn't be too safe.
"AMOS!" Mr. Weasley shouted, startling the entire group. Brad caught himself reaching toward his sidearm reflexively at the sudden shout, but stopped himself. Relax, he thought, don't get jumpy.
"Dude, seriously..." Mike whispered as they got a good view of the newcomers. The older one was wearing a bright blue shirt and red pants, with a nearly fluorescent orange coat over-top. Harry, who was nearby, chimed in quietly.
"I've talked to Mr. Weasley about it. They really don't pay much attention to muggle society, and have no idea how to dress like one."
"I'll say," Mike snickered.
The figures at the top of the hill descended toward them and soon Mr. Weasley was firmly shaking hands with the older of the two. "Good to see you, old friend." He turned toward the rest of them. "Amos Diggory, he works with me at the Ministry. And his son, Cedric, I presume." The younger one nodded in affirmation.
"I heard you won the contest, good work!" The man, Amos, if Brad had put two and two together correctly, looked at the group. "All these yours?"
"Just the redheads," Mr. Weasley smiled. "These are friends of ours." He gestured toward the four operators in turn. "Brad, Mike, Jason and Eric. And, of course, Harry and Hermione."
"Merlin's Beard!" Amos announced, taking a closer look at Harry. "Mr. Potter, it is a pleasure. Ced's talked about you, of course. I've told him, that'll be a story. Beating Harry Potter at Quidditch." Amos turned with Mr. Weasley and started off. The group moved to stay with them and Cedric gave Harry an apologetic look.
It wasn't a terribly long walk before they found themselves atop a hill with a great view of Ottery St Catchpole, where they found an old boot.
"Well, everyone, here we are." Mr. Weasley gestured to the boot. "Everyone needs to be touching the boot, a finger will do." They crowded around it, a difficult maneuver due to their numbers. The backpacks on the operators, Mr. Weasley and the two Diggory's didn't help either.
"Here goes!" Mr. Weasley announced, eyeing his watch. "Three, two-" Brad felt something grab him in his gut and yank him forward. He smacked into Mike and Harry on either side of him and all he could see was a swirl of color. He felt like he was being accelerated toward the ground, the wind whistling past his ear. Then, as suddenly as it started, he felt his feet hit the ground and he crumpled.