AN - Sorry for the delays getting these out folks, but I am indeed working to finish the story. Enjoy!

Brad stayed still for a moment, going through the mental checklist to make sure nothing was broken. He felt other bodies trying to untangle from him and, satisfied that nothing was missing, he got up. With a frown Brad noted that Mr. Weasley and both Diggorys had managed to maintain themselves upright. Judging by the grins on their faces, the tangled mess he found himself in was not the way Portkey travel regularly went.

"What a ride!" Mike exclaimed, swiping at the leaves and twigs that had hitched a ride on his clothes. Brad helped Harry onto his feet and helped swipe his clothes clean as well. When they were all standing, Brad noticed a pair of individuals walking toward them.

"Names?" The man that spoke wore a plaid kilt and poncho with what looked suspiciously like a garter belt, though Brad adamantly refused to investigate that further. His partner wore a tweed suit that was several sizes too big, and he had to keep hiking his pants up as he walked. Mike let out a huff at the sight and Brad elbowed him. The last thing they needed was to call attention to their expertise in muggle life.

"Weasley," the family patron replied cheerily.

"Arthur, you're not on, then?" The kilted man scanned his scroll for the name, talking tiredly as he did. "You're lucky, really. It's been an absolute zoo...ah, Weasley. First field here, down at the end." He handed a small map with a grid on it marking their spot.

"Good luck to you boys," Mr. Weasley said as they shifted their attention to the Diggory's. With a wave of goodbye to them, the group was on the move. Eric and Jason took the lead again, following the direction of the two insanely dressed wizards at the Portkey site.

The walk wasn't short but the time was occupied in good company as they walked through the woods. After about twenty minutes of walking, they finally cleared the woods and headed into the moor. There was a long hill that blocked their initial view of the campground, but it did little to slow them down.

They crested the hill and before them lay the impressive sight of a wizarding campground. The group slowly worked its way down the hill, taking in the sights. A large number of tents had chimneys sticking out and those were among the less blatantly magical ones. The one closest to them was nearly three stories tall and more closely resembled a castle than a tent.

Outside the tent were a pair of wizards in an argument. One was dressed in the regular Ministry garb, and the other was an elderly wizard with a long, wispy beard and bony features. He was wearing an oriental dress with his long hair pulled back in a bun behind his head with chopsticks.

Mike grabbed Brad by the elbow on sight of the argument, letting out a brief, pained grunt, as though not commenting on it was causing him physical discomfort. They edged past the scene, incapable of missing the conversation.

"You have to change!" the Ministry wizard insisted, thrusting a pair of pants and shirt toward the preposterously dressed one.

"I'll have none of it!" he exclaimed. "I bought these in a genuine muggle shop." He smoothed the edges of the unfortunately form-fitting dress.

"For women, man. Women wear dresses..." The Ministry official was clearly at wits end. Sadly, their walk brought them out of earshot.

Brad kept his eyes peeled, working on memorizing the layout of the camp and where the Portkey site was in relation to their campsite. He knew his team was doing the same, even as Mike made strangled grunting noises the deeper they made it into the camp. They passed all the way to the other side before finally coming to a stop.

"Right, here we are," Mr. Weasley said. "Couldn't have a better spot, either. The field is just on the other side of these woods here!"

It took them almost an hour and a half to get the tents set up. Mr. Weasley had borrowed two tents from a fellow at the Ministry, Perkins. At Mr. Weasley's insistence, they were to set up the tents without magic. He seemed oblivious to the rampant magical goings-on and was determined to get "the full muggle experience."

Unfortunately for the younger Weasley's, their father was flat determined to get the tents set up without muggle assistance. It became apparent that the man was a little in over his head when he started using the stake mallet to try and hammer the poles into the tent. He had no idea what he was doing, but he was doing it enthusiastically. In the end, he relented and allowed the operators to help set up the tents. With their experience, it only took a few minutes and the tents were ready.

"Well, we'd better get ours set up," Brad said as the wizards mused at their temporary dwellings. They looked like a pair of two person tents, one slightly bigger than the other. Brad had no idea what the master plan was, but he figured you could uncomfortably fit three in each tent. It'd been clear since they'd left the Burrow that they'd have gender separate tents, but the only girls were Hermione and Ginny. That left three spots for the boys, leaving at least five out in the cold.

"Nonsense. It might be a bit cozy," Mr. Weasley said, ducking his head into the tent and entering, "but we should be able to manage." Harry gave Brad a questioning look that told him their concerns were the same. Still, he decided to give the man the benefit of the doubt and poked his head into the tent.

Inside the tent he found all of the furnishings of a reasonably sized cottage. There were three separate wings, including bunk beds, a small kitchen and a bathroom complete with shower. Brad had to do a double take. He entered the tent the rest of the way. Magic never ceased to amaze him.

"Hot damn," Mike said, apparently having entered. The rest of them shuffled in, finding the tent downright roomy compared to how it looked outside. They doffed backpacks and coats, getting some of their things set up.

"We'll need some starter water," Mr. Weasley said, handing Ron a bucket. "The map shows a tap on the other side of the grounds, why don't you boys go get that." Ron made a look, as though to protest, but Harry managed to save him the trouble.

"I can take care of that," he said, reaching for the bucket. Ron cautiously handed it over, eyeing his father to see if there would be a reaction. The man simply shrugged and began dishing out assignments to everyone. Ginny and Hermione had the task of setting up the girls' tent, while Ron was tasked with unpacking some of the various supplies they'd brought along.

Brad adjusted the uncomfortable pistol harness underneath his jacket and followed Harry outside. The morning air was still crisp, but it was shaping up to be a beautiful day. There were few clouds in the sky and the sun felt comfortingly warm, a stark contrast to the oppressive heat it dished out in Africa just a few days prior. More people were awake now and there was a buzzing excitement.

"You sure jumped at the chance to get out here," Brad remarked after they'd made it past a few tents.

"I wanted to get a chance to see the camp," Harry replied, answering the unasked question. "I've never been to a Quidditch Cup before, or anything like it really."

Brad couldn't help but wonder what else could be like it. The hodgepodge of insane looking tents was something you'd never catch in the real world. Adding the crazy attire and magical happenings really sent it over the top.

"Yeah, I get that." Brad and Harry were silent for a while, simply taking in the sights and, in Brad's case, keeping an eye on everyone around. On one side of the row, a tent that was stitched to look like a castle was erected, complete with a moat. Brad could hear the neighbor complaining that the alligator had eaten another one of his gnomes.

To the other side of the row, there were a series of stands, the proprietors each trying desperately to convince passers-by that they couldn't watch the game at all without the this or that. Some were more successful than others.

"Why don't we go see what's for sale?" Harry asked. Brad knew Harry had a solid fortune to his name and could afford to get whatever he wanted. He took a cautious look around. His gut tightened a little at the thought of entering the fray but he had no idea why. He couldn't see anything even remotely threatening.

"Why not," Brad allowed Harry to take the lead. Harry stopped to look at a set of wild looking binoculars. The salesman insisted they were called omnioculars and you had to have them to watch the game. While the man explained the great benefits of having a set, Brad looked over his shoulder again. He thought he saw someone on the other side of the crowd, back the way they'd come, but when he looked again there was nothing. Harry purchased three sets of the omnioculars and they moved along.

They stopped several more times, looking at various contraptions that Brad couldn't pronounce, let alone justify spending money on. Harry didn't bother buying any of it.

Brad looked back at the market again as they made it out and the man was standing there, staring at them. There was something in his eyes, a barely contained insanity, that made the hair on the back of Brad's neck stand up. As soon as they made eye contact, the man looked away, his tongue darting out in a way that unnerved Brad even further. He reflexively patted his ribs, feeling the handgun snug in its holster.

They'd made it a few steps out and Brad turned his head back toward Harry to warn him that they should pick up the pace. As he opened his mouth to talk he ran into someone, toppling down onto them. Brad reacted immediately, catching himself to stop from crushing them.

"Mon Dieu!" a melodic voice exclaimed underneath him and he found himself staring into a pair of dark blue eyes. He pulled himself back a little, getting a better look at her. Silver-blonde hair covered part of her face and her eyebrows were furrowed in frustration. Her lips were pouted. Brad leaned in slightly, then pushed himself off of her, catching himself before he kissed her. What the fuck, Brad, focus!

He stood up, holding a hand out to her. She eyed him cautiously but took it and he helped her up.

"I'm sorry," he said, patting some damp grass off of her shoulder and glancing back into the market. The man was gone. "I wasn't paying attention." He turned back to her, feeling his heart hammer even harder when he looked at her again. She was gorgeous.

"Tu devrais faire plus attention!" a small voice squeaked from beside him. Brad looked and saw a miniature version of the young woman standing before him. Brad couldn't help a nervous smile at the sound of her scold and he held his hands out in a gesture of appeasement.

"Sorry again," he said. The girls walked off arm in arm, chatting to themselves excitedly in a foreign language. She glanced at him over her shoulder once and when Brad saw it he fought off the urge to chase her.

"Wow," Harry said with a barely contained smile. Apparently Brad wasn't as smooth as he'd hoped.

"Not a word," Brad shook his head. "Let's get that water."

"Whatever you say, Romeo," Harry lead the way to the water spout. Brad kept an eye out for their tail but didn't see him again, or the beautiful girl.

Once back at the tent, they joined the party. Percy, Bill, Charlie and the twins had arrived and they were all busy passing time before the game. They had a couple of hours to kill before the game.

They had the luxury of not having to leave very early to get to their seats. The spot where they'd set up camp was right next to the wood-line and it was only a ten minute walk to get to the playing field. Mr. Weasley insisted that they not leave more than twenty minutes before the start of the game. It was hard for Brad to wrap his mind around leaving so late to such a big event, but he simply reminded himself that he wasn't there to enjoy the game.

In fact, he was going to have his work cut out for him. There were only enough tickets to allow for one operator to accompany the Weasley clan and their company, and even then only because Sirius wasn't attending. Brad elected to be the one present at the game since he was ultimately responsible for their safety.

Eric, Jason and Mike would be staying in the tent in full gear as an acting QRF. They had hardened communications equipment that cut through the magical interference. The position of their camp was perfect for a quick response if something went wrong during the game and Brad could contact them by radio if needed. He wouldn't be paying much attention to the game.

At twenty minutes to the game he departed with the Weasleys, walking behind everyone. Mr. Weasley had seen reason when the thick crowds of passing wizards and witches made it clear that the lines could be long.

It felt weird only having a sidearm to protect so many. He simply didn't have a way to hide his HK416, which was the weapon he brought with him to Africa. He hadn't packed for a Foreign Internal Defense mission and JSOC hadn't had much of a chance to set up a kit for them.

It turned out that the tickets Mr. Weasley presented gave them priority access, allowing them to completely pass the line. They headed straight up to the scaffold staircase to their box. On their way up there was a bit of a clog in the stairway. A Bulgarian man was waving his arms about, arguing with a couple of English-speaking witches over who had which seats.

While they were working to squeeze past, Harry put his hand on the rail. As soon as a Ministry official showed up to sort the mess, they were pushed out of the staircase, allowing people to pass through. They started back up the stairs, but Harry was turning toward the rail. Brad looked and saw Mr. Malfoy and his son standing a rung below them. Mr. Malfoy had the head of his cane on Harry's hand, holding him in place.

"Well if it isn't Mr. Potter," the senior Malfoy spat out in a condescending voice. His son wore an undeserved smirk as he watched the scene. Brad saw that the rest of the group was headed upstairs, unaware of the event unfolding. He'd never been a fan of Draco and judging by the way his father was looking at Harry, the apple didn't fall far from the tree. Mr. Malfoy opened his mouth to say something but Brad didn't feel like sticking around to hear what he had to say.

In one fell swoop, he closed the short distance between Harry and himself, grabbing the head of Malfoy's cane and yanking on it. He was surprised when the head came free almost instantly and he almost elbowed an elderly woman that was standing just behind him. Looking in his hand, he saw that the head of the cane was actually the eldest Malfoy's wand and the cane was simply a sheath.

"Give that back!" he commanded, his face red with indignation. Brad didn't hesitate, tossing the small wand. He didn't toss it directly back to Mr. Malfoy, however. He intentionally gave it too little power and watched with a smirk as it dropped between the girders.

"Oops," Brad said, watching the wand clang off one of the steel bars on its way down. "You probably should have grabbed that." He grabbed Harry by the elbow, not sticking around to talk more with the Malfoy's.

"I can't believe you did that!" Harry exclaimed as they started up the stairs, his voice a mixture of amazement and fear.

"I can't believe he had the balls to try and grab your hand with his wand," Brad replied evenly. He honestly thought he was pulling the man's cane away from him. The sound of that didn't seem very befitting of a soldier, but the guy was acting like a dick. The wand was simply a target of opportunity after the fact. They caught up with the rest of the Weasleys and had no further issue getting to their box.

That box was nothing short of a nightmare. It was right smack in the middle level of the stadium, not too high or too low. There was no one directly above them, instead the rest of the witches and wizards watching the game were slightly further back amid the catacomb of scaffolds and staircases. This gave the Weasleys and their company a commanding view of the game, most of which would be played at eye level.

The seats were plush and elevated from the front of the box to the back so that no one would have their views blocked by the person in front of them. There was a chef in the back of the box who was cooking meals to order and an impressive array of snacks and treats.

All of this was well and good for those who would be watching the Cup. For Brad, who was concerned only with security, it was nerve-wracking at best. The open box presented them freely to anyone above them, the perfect target for a sniper. There was a chef and his staff member in the box with them that he'd never seen before. He'd have to keep an eye on them.

As if all of that wasn't enough, the only way to or from the box was the staircase. Normally he'd consider that a defenders advantage but he had very little cover and the only weapon was his handgun. He hadn't thought to factor in the long walk up into the stadium in the QRF response time and now he was sure that it'd take them at least twenty minutes to reach the box at best speed. It was going to be a long game.

Unfortunately, the Cup didn't do Brad's heart any favors. He'd been reassessing the staircase when a loud boom reverberated through the stands and everyone began screaming. Brad had his handgun halfway out of the holster before he saw the flicker of green in the sky. Looking up, he saw a large dancing leprechaun made out of fireworks and a flight of men on broomsticks. It was the Irish team.

His second near heart attack came just a few moments later when the Bulgarian team entered the field. They burst through the chest of the dancing leprechaun and meanwhile their cheerleaders took to the field. A dancing corps of beautiful women that had men throughout the stadium cheering and acting wildly, as though they were under a trance. Brad at one point had to grab Ron's shoulder to force him back into his seat, fearful that the boy was going to try and leap from the box. It was a relief when they finally left the field.

There were many ups and downs as far as Brad could tell, but eventually the game ended. Brad was relieved that it didn't take a week, as some had suggested it could. Ron was glum at the Bulgarian loss, but took it in good stride. They had to slowly work their way down through the throngs of witches and wizards.

Brad radioed back to tell his team when they were a few minutes out and by the time they'd made it to the tents, he was exhausted. It took a lot out of you, maintaining a razors edge for several hours, solely focused on the safety of so many people at once in such a large crowd.

The four operators sat at the table and Brad debriefed with his team. Mr. Weasley and Percy sat together, quietly discussing the game while the rest of them loudly cheered and celebrated the game, their energy seemingly at its peak.

Several hours went by and the celebration didn't seem to wane out of the youths. Mr. Weasley, Percy, Bill and Charlie all headed out. The three eldest Weasley boys were leaving early to spend the night back at The Burrow with their mother. In Percy's case, it was because the reports were not going to write themselves and Mr. Crouch really needed him.

Brad sat with his team playing their fourth round of Go Fish. They'd tried to play the more adult game of Poker, only to realize that, still, none of them really knew the rules. They got halfway into a hand of made up rules before giving up and settling for an easier game.

"Jason, you got any four's?" Mike asked through squinted eyes. Jason smiled broadly and Mike smacked his cards against the table. "Gah, damn it!" he exclaimed as he pulled another card. He had, by far, the largest hand of cards.

"This is just not your game, Mikey," Brad sighed. They'd all removed their plate carriers and their rifles were propped up against the pile of body armor.

"You're telling me!" Mike set his deck of cards down, freeing his hands to pop his neck. Wump. There was the explosion of another firework outside, a little closer than the others had been.

"The Irish sure know how to party," Brad heard Fred say. Or George, he was never sure. Whu-whump, a double explosion followed by loud cheers.

"Damn, they really do," Eric said. Mike was just picking up his cards when Mr. Weasley burst through the front of the tent, bringing with him the acrid smell of something burning.

"We have to go." It was a quiet whisper that caused everyone to stop. Ron, who'd been in the process of turning up a radio switched it off completely. The four operators reacted immediately, their experienced eyes and ears picking up on the distress in the mans demeanor.

"What's going on?" Brad asked, hefting his plate carrier over his head and strapping it in place. It was time for action. Beside him his team was doing the same.

"There's some kind of a riot, it's heading this way." Mr. Weasley started grabbing the boys and girls, gathering them together. Brad picked up his rifle, racking a round into the chamber and attaching the sling. He crossed the small distance to their rucksacks, pulling out his quarter-cut helmet and the panoramic night-vision goggles. His team picked up on the cue, doing the same.

"Stay here," Brad ordered, poking his head out of the tent. It was dark outside so he pulled the panoramic sights down over his eyes, illuminating the world around him. A gout of flame shot up several hundred feet away and behind the rows of tents. Its brief light allowed him to spot something in the sky. Perhaps wizards on broomsticks. No, they weren't moving fast enough. He stared for a moment and distinctly saw limbs. Those were just people, floating there. He ducked back into the tent.

"There are people floating in the air," Brad said to Mr Weasley, hoping for some insight.

"I think..." he paused a moment, searching for the right words. "I think I heard someone say that they'd gone after the muggles." Brad sighed. If that was the case, things got a little complicated. He couldn't just let that happen.

"Alright," Brad said, looking to his team. "Mike and Eric, you two escort them to them to the Portkey and get 'em the fuck out of here, copy?" They nodded their affirmation. Brad then turned to Mr. Weasley. "Jason and I are going to get those people down, we'll need your help."

"Right," Mr. Weasley agreed, gripping his wand tightly. To their credit, none of his team questioned him on the order. Brad knew he was probably looking at some hot water with the brass once this was all over. Technically, they weren't supposed to be there. Intervening like this had a high likelihood of getting them caught. He couldn't just let these people hang though, not when he could do something about it.

"Mike and I will exit first, I'll take the right. When we issue the all-clear, the rest of you come out." He turned to Mike and Eric, both of whom were fastening their helmets to their heads. "We'll cover your exit, Mike you take the rear. Get 'em to safety."

"Copy that," Eric said, shouldering his rifle at low-ready. Brad turned to the nervous looking adolescents.

"You guys stay between them alright, do whatever they say the second they say it. Got it?" He looked each of them in the eye to get an affirmation. Satisfied, he turned to Jason and Mr. Weasley. "You guys ready?" As if to punctuate the question, another whump sounded followed by screams. They nodded, and Brad burst out of the tent.