"All elements, Kingpin, Eagle has eyes on an incoming aircraft." The voice of their command and control operator in Brad's ear was clear, undoubtedly thanks to the large communications relay set up at FOB Phoenix. Eagle was their UAV unit's callsign. That meant that the French students were getting near. "ETA to touchdown is five mikes, how copy?" Brad sighed gently, knowing what came next.
"Gator 1-1, copy."
"Gator 1-2, affirm."
"Gator 2-1, copy."
"Gator 2-2, copies."
"Talon 1-1, copy."
"Dagger 1-1 and 1-2, copy."
"Phantom, copy."
The list went on and on as units acknowledged Kingpin, until finally Brad had his turn. "Reaper, copy."
The Bulgarians were expected to show up in some kind of submersible ship, so Sumner ordered both of the Special Operations Craft-Ravine, or SOC-R boats, which were obtained by the JSOC leadership from US Navy SWCC.
The vessels were helicopter transportable swift-water boats that were armed to the teeth, fast, and reasonably quiet. That is until you disturbed them. In their current configuration, there was a Mk. 19 grenade launcher on the bow, an M134 minigun on either side of that, and to the rear, a pair of dual M240b light machine guns. The sheer amount of lead and ordinance that could be brought to bear from one of those boats was devastating and Brad was glad he'd never been on the opposing end of one.
"Dagger 1-1, contact." Brad looked out to the water. 1st squad, 2nd platoon, with the callsign Dagger, had been the lucky sons of bitches that got assigned to the SOC-R boats. Between both of the military boats a large vessel that looked for all the world like a pirate ship was pushing its way up out of the lake.
"Dude," Mike muttered next to Brad, obviously watching the same thing. "Magic is fuckin' crazy."
"Yeah," Brad agreed. The ships nose, which was elevated on its exit from the depths of the lake, splashed down and forced the Dagger guys to ride the waves. Thankfully, the SOC-R boats were more than capable of handling it.
In a few moments the water had calmed down and Brad saw the ship skillfully brought alongside the bank of the lake, an anchor thrown overboard and a long plank extended to the ground. As figures began disembarking Brad started hearing more radio traffic.
"Gator 2-1, contact, southeast." That was also in the direction of the lake. "In the sky," the soldier helpfully clarified. When Brad looked up, sure enough, there was something of an absurd scene in the sky as well.
At first glance it seemed like perhaps a house or something of equal size flinging across the sky. As it got closer Brad could see more clearly, however. Massive horses were pulling a giant carriage behind them...flying. It was like an insane mixture of Cinderella and Santa. They watched on as the carriage pushed down toward the grounds at the front of the school, then dipped up, then back down again. Whoever was unfortunate enough to be inside that damned carriage had to be ill.
Brad watched in horror as the horses angled down at almost a ninety-degree angle and was certain that the carriage was about to crash and they would have a mass casualty event on their hands. At the last possible second, the horses angled forward and began running along the ground as though it was the most natural thing in the world. The carriage touched down a few hundred feet in front of him and didn't make even the slightest sound as it touched down.
"Fuckin' crazy," Brad agreed again. He, along with the rest of Reaper team, would be greeting them as they exited. Phantom was already at the waterside beckoning the students to follow them to the castle.
The carriage came to a stop about a hundred feet away and Brad marveled for a moment at the large horses before he started to walk forward. He reminded himself of the warning given to him by Major Price about the headmistress, Madame Maxine.
"Don't stare or mention anything about her size," he'd told the operator. "Apparently she's sensitive about it."
The carriage door came down. It was large and opened downward into steps. Neat. Out of it stepped a large, large woman. Not fat, though, like Brad was expecting. Instead, she was tall. Similar to Hagrid, only somehow taller by at least a head.
"Hot damn," Mike muttered, just audible enough for Brad to hear it. They closed the rest of the distance as students began filing out of the carriage behind their headmistress.
"Ma'am." Brad extended his hand for a shake without thinking. She looked at it and smiled widely, as though touched by the gesture, and then engulfed his hand in her own.
"Eet is a plea'zur to meet you," she said. When she let go, Brad placed his now small feeling hand on the stock of his rifle, which hung comfortably in front of him.
"The pleasure's all mine," he replied. "I'm Captain Gordon, this is my team. We're here to escort you to the Great Hall."
"My 'orses." She gestured to them with a look of concern on her face. "They will need tending."
"I'll get someone on that," Brad said, giving Jason to his left a pointed look. Jason contacted the squad that was currently assisting Hagrid in wrangling a couple of escaped Skrewts which had blasted their way out of the little paddock. Hagrid had built a more secure location already but the Skrewts were growing more rapidly than was expected. While Jason relayed the message, Brad took a look at the last of the students filing out of the carriage, all crowding behind their vertically over-blessed headmistress.
They were all wearing soft looking blue garments that didn't look much thicker than silk. All of them were huddling together and a few of the luckier ones were wrapping scarves around their necks. Not one of them had a heavier jacket for the cold weather, though. One last person was exiting the carriage, and she caught Brad's attention.
It was her. The blonde girl from the Quidditch Cup. His heart seemed to skip a beat when he locked eyes with hers as she made it to the last step, and he caught himself starting to step toward her. He forced himself to stop and the headmistress gave him a quizzical look. Focus!
"After you, Captain," Madame Maxine said, gesturing to the castle with a shiver. Brad nodded in affirmation and turned, leading the way. The large woman kept a polite distance behind him, speaking softly to her charges.
Ahead, Brad could see Phantom team disappearing into the main doors with the delegation from Durmstrang. It took them only a few moments to make their way inside. He had to slow down a bit once they'd made it into the castle, as the students were gripping each other excitedly and chatting in rapid-fire French that he couldn't understand, pointing to paintings and suits of armor.
Regardless of their pace, it wasn't long before they'd made it to the Great Hall. Brad and Jason opened the main doors and held them open for everyone as they passed through.
He was surprised when he looked inside. The Great Hall, somehow, looked to be larger. There were two more long tables, much like the ones that seated each of the Hogwarts houses. The Durmstrang students were already seated at one, so his group started to the other table.
He caught another glance at her as she walked past him. She seemed to be lost in a conversation with one of the girls next to her. As she walked by though, he smelled some intoxicating blend of vanilla and cinnamon and had to stop himself from trying to get a better smell. The fuck, man, get a grip.
"Madame Maxine," Dumbledore welcomed the headmistress with open arms. She leaned in from the bottom of the steps leading to the staff table and Dumbledore politely kissed her on the cheek in greeting. They said something that Brad couldn't hear.
"Dude," Jason whispered, "you good?"
"Squared away," Brad said without thinking. She was certainly distracting, whoever she was.
"Now that our guests have arrived," Dumbledore said loudly, flanked by Madame Maxine and the headmaster of Durmstrang, "let's give them a hearty welcome in the best way we know how!"
The Hogwarts students stood up in unison and Brad only had the briefest moment to wonder what was coming next. The headmaster began waving his hands as though conducting a symphony and the students began to sing.
Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts
Teach us something please
Whether we be old and bald
Or young with scabby knees
"Wow," Mike said, suddenly beside Brad. "So, this is happening." He was smiling from ear to ear, never one to miss the joy in something. Brad had to admit, seeing the uncomfortable look on the faces of their guests was definitely amusing.
After a painfully long chorus, scattered applause broke out from the foreign delegations, the boys and girls of Beauxbatons being the politer of the two schools by a long shot.
"Thank you all," Dumbledore said, gesturing at the students to be seated. "Thank you all so much for coming. We are delighted to have you here and hope that your stay will be most comfortable. For now, let us feast."
Food filled up the plates and this time there were foreign additions. Brad took a seat at the operators table, where Harry and Ron were in a heated discussion already.
"It's VICTOR KRUM!" Ron announced, judging by the eye roll from Hermione it wasn't the first time. The two of them talked about how best to approach getting an autograph while Mike sat next to Hermione and asked how her classes had been.
Brad heard her complain about how the courses had been all but useless today, as no one was paying attention. He didn't listen to more of the conversation, however. His eyes drifted to the sea of blue robes that were all huddled together at their table, near where the Ravenclaw students sat.
He easily picked her out of the crowd and, not for the first time, wondered what her name was. She gave whomever she was talking to a half-smile, clearly not interested in whatever was being said. Brad felt it like a blow to his gut for a moment and wanted to do anything to make her smile fuller.
Realizing what he was thinking, he immediately shook his head slightly and turned back to the table. Damn it, she seemed to have him hooked somehow. He picked at his food, forcing his mind off of the desire to go introduce himself to get her name.
Finally, as utensils were set down by satiated students, Dumbledore stood again. With a wave of his hand, the dishes and platters all cleared and everyone turned their attention to the headmaster. Behind him, Barty Crouch Sr and Ludo Bagman were standing. Apparently, they'd slipped in while Brad was picking at his food.
"The Tournament will begin at the conclusion of this speech. So, I should like to begin with a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket-" Dumbledore began.
"They weren't kidding about dangerous, eh?" Jason muttered. Brad wondered about it himself.
"-and explain how the tournament will progress. Before I do so, however, I would like to introduce Mr. Bartimus Crouch and Mr. Ludo Bagman. Both work for the Ministry of Magic and have worked many tireless hours to bring this event together, so I believe a round of applause is in order." The students complied and, while Mr. Crouch looked slightly irritated by the attention, Bagman appeared to bask in it, waving his hand at the students in appreciation.
"Wonderful," Dumbledore smiled. "Now, the casket if you would, Mr. Filch." The caretaker hurried off out of the Great Hall, to wherever the casket was being stored. "Now, the gentlemen from the Ministry, along with each head of the school, will form the panel that will judge the champions on their execution of three tasks, set throughout the year. These tasks will challenge the champions on their magical prowess, bravery, intelligence, and their ability, of course, to handle danger." By the mention of danger, all stirring among the students had stopped and everyone listened intently.
"The champions will be selected by a most impartial judge, the Goblet of Fire." As though to punctuate the headmaster's words, the Great Hall doors opened and Mr. Filch dragged in a large wheeled case, the contents of which were obscured by wooden paneling. "Prospective champions will have the next twenty-four hours to place a parchment with their name and school in the Goblet-" Dumbledore paused as Mr. Filch reached the bottom steps. Dumbledore unhinged a panel and pulled out a rough looking wooden goblet that contained dancing blue flames. "Tomorrow night, at the Halloween Feast, the Goblet will present the champions it has deemed most worthy to represent their schools."
Dumbledore raised the Goblet for everyone to see and, when he was satisfied they had seen it, handed the Goblet to Mr. Filch again, who whisked it away and out of the Great Hall.
"The Goblet will reside at the end of the first-floor corridor," Dumbledore explained as many of the students watched Mr. Filch leave. "Those of you who are too young this year to participate, know that this is for your safety. These tasks are dangerous and many great witches and wizards have lost their lives and more to the great challenges. Once selected, there is no turning back. To place your name in the Goblet of Fire constitutes a binding magical contract, so be certain that you are ready."
"To ensure that no underage witch or wizard places their name into the Goblet, I have drawn an Age Line around it. No one under the age of seventeen will be able to cross it. For now, I think it is time for everyone to get some rest. Good night to all of you."
After Dumbledore dismissed everyone, Brad watched groups of students scatter, the more ambitious of them seeking students from the other schools to talk to. Others seemed to be making their way out of the Great Hall.
"An Age Line!" Fred quipped as he and his twin brother passed. "I think an Aging Potion ought to fool that-" They continued the conversation as they walked out of the Great Hall. Hermione was mentioning to Mike that Dumbledore wouldn't be so easily fooled by an Aging Potion.
"You're 'im, aren't you?" Brad heard a soft, melodic voice behind him. It wasn't the voice, which did sound familiar, that gave it away though. Again, Brad smelled the intoxicating blend of vanilla and cinnamon that he'd smelled when she passed him earlier. With a knot in his stomach, he turned around.
She was standing there, her beautiful face tight and almost business-like. Her hair was tied back in an elegant style of ponytail that he'd never seen before.
"I'm gonna be a professional Quidditch player," Ron said, apparently having made his way over to Brad. Brad turned and gave the boy an unfiltered look that said what the fuck? And then turned back to see that the girls' placid face had suddenly become acidic. He was glad that he wasn't on the receiving end of it.
"Zat is nice," she said tightly, "but, we were 'aving a conversation."
"I'm just saying." Ron seemed unfazed. "I'm a little more exciting than- AGH!" That was as far as Ron made it, as Brad had heard enough. He wasn't sure what had come over the idiot, but he grabbed Ron by the ear and yanked it to the side, turning him around and pushing him to the door.
"Go cool down, turbo." Brad said, letting go of the ear. Mike had an amused look, though Hermione was decidedly more irritated as they escorted Ron out of the Great Hall while he nursed his ear.
"A beautiful veela-girl like you," another, unfortunately familiar, voice said before Brad had the chance to turn back to her, "shouldn't be hanging out with rabble like that, anyway." Draco Malfoy had stepped rather close to her side. She closed her eyes as though calming herself and spoke in an even voice.
"Do zey all butt in to conversations when zey're unwanted?" she asked, making a point not to look at Malfoy. Anger flushed through his eyes but Brad responded quicker.
"That one's pretty good at it, yeah. Gets in spots where he's not wanted." Brad stared at Malfoy seriously as he spoke. "You could say he's something of a ferret in that way." He couldn't help a half-smile as Malfoy's look went from angry to nervous. He caught on too late to save face however and turned to leave.
"Not a pureblood, anyway." Malfoy made sure to mutter it loud enough for them to hear, a final parting shot. If it bothered her, she didn't show it.
"Sorry, that was insane," Brad said, looking into her beautiful blue eyes. He almost lost himself for a moment and continued. "Haven't seen them act like that." He turned back to see Malfoy sneering at them as he left the Great Hall.
"I'm used to it," she said simply. "I wanted to thank you, for what you did for me and my sister." Her accent had all but disappeared, in correlation with her tight muscles slackening and relaxing as she noted people leaving them alone.
"Of course," Brad said without hesitation. "That's my job. I'm Captain Gordon, by the way. You can call me Brad." He extended his hand for a shake. She hesitated a moment, glancing down at his hand with a wary look. Before he could retract it, however, she gripped it lightly. Her soft fingers almost seemed to gracefully caress his hand and he found himself disappointed when it was over.
"Fleur Delacour," she replied. Her cheeks started to shade a slight pink as they stood there for a moment, neither sure what to say, before she broke the silence. "I'd better go. 'Ave a good night."
"You as well," he said. "Sleep sweet." She faltered in her step a moment and he couldn't tell if he saw part of a smile or not. Either way, she didn't have any other reaction as she left Sleep sweet? Fuckin' A, Brad!
She turned out of the Great Hall and left toward her carriage and Brad stood for a moment. So, Fleur was her name. It had a nice sound to it. He decided to head up to the Gryffindor Tower for the night and left.
Private First Class Mason stood on his side of the door, flanking the room where the Goblet of Fire was placed. PFC Rivera stood on the other side. They were an added measure of security for the Goblet and had already turned away a number of students that were underage.
There was no real question as to whether or not the Age Line would work. Dumbledore had a legendary reputation for his very powerful magic and his extremely quick mind. However, the added security was an easy thing for the Triwizard Security Force to provide and it had proven an effective deterrent.
They'd actually turned back Fred and George Weasley twice so far. The first time they'd drank an age potion. The soldiers convinced the duo that even if the potion worked to get them past the Age Line, they would be put to the ground and escorted back to the Gryffindor dormitory.
Not a half an hour later, they saw a pair of paper airplanes sail overhead toward the Goblet. The aim was off by quite a bit and Mason sent his partner to investigate. Sure enough, the Weasley twins were around the corner with several reams of parchment, evidently planning to rely on luck.
Now, it was coming up on 2300 hours and they hadn't seen a student for several hours. It was anticipated that a small number would try to get their names in before the night was out, but the rest would wait until the day. Mason was thankful he was pulling night shift for that reason.
Down the hall they saw a...not quite familiar, but distinct, figure approaching. The painful looking gait favored one side and the whirling blue eye always kept them wondering. They stayed silent as he slowly approached, allowing him to talk first.
"Gentlemen," he greeted them, his tongue darting out of his mouth. "Here to place one more layer of protection for Dumbledore, not that we need it with you here. With the Weasley twins about, though, can't be too safe."
Mason smiled knowingly and gestured that the man was welcome to enter, and he did. They kept their eyes fixed on the Entrance Hall, alert for the next attempt at an intrusion.
Within a few moments, the Professor was done and bid them goodnight. They physically relaxed as he departed and kept a close eye out for the rest of the night.