AN - The Dungeon Crawler brought up a good point in a review that I don't recall touching base on. This being an AU story and me enjoying the modern military technology, I have bumped the time frame of the Harry Potter universe up to current(ish) times in my story. We are getting into stuff I'm much more excited about, I hope you guys enjoy!
Brad heard footsteps in the room, which pulled him out of his light sleep. It was strange to him, sleeping in a full bed. With more Gryffindor students graduating than had been replaced this year by new students, there were open beds. Since there was currently no direct threat to Harry, Brad had been informed by Major Price that they were not required to sleep downstairs with one of them on guard duty. They were simply to be on hand if necessary. Brad made sure everyone made it to their beds safely and was often the first awake.
Regardless of the comfortable bed, Brad found that he slept lightly. He'd spent a lot of time in the field and had trouble getting into a real, deep sleep. It wasn't something he dwelt on, it was just a fact of life.
"Hey, bro." Mike's voice sounded behind Brad, who was laying on his side. Brad rolled and sat up.
"What's up?" he asked, looking at his watch. It was 0528, he was due to get up in a few minutes anyway.
"Everyone's up," Mike replied. He was already dressed, though not in gear. He was wearing the olive drab cargo pants that he only wore when relaxing, along with his multi-cam quarter zip jacket. "Hermione and I wanted to talk to you guys about something." If he didn't seem so at ease, Brad would have been worried it was serious.
"Be down in a sec," Brad said, throwing the blanket off and getting up. He was fully dressed in his uniform and gear belt in a couple of minutes and then headed downstairs. Mike and Hermione were busying themselves with the final touches of what looked like some sort of presentation. Jason, Eric, Harry and Ron were all seated on couches in the common room. Brad took a seat between Jason and Eric.
"Well," Hermione said, clearly a little nervous. She turned, holding a pair of tin containers. One was empty and the other was full of buttons and patches emblazoned with S.P.E.W. She passed them out to them wordlessly, patches to the operators and buttons to her fellow students.
"Spew?" Ron asked, turning the button over and examining it.
"No," she said, exasperatedly. "Not spew, S.P.E.W. The Society for Promotion of Elvish Welfare, S.P.E.W. We can't all sit idly by while elves are enslaved. I really can't believe no one has tried to do this before..." Hermione trailed off, pensively.
"That's because they're actually happy." Ron said, tossing the button next to him on the couch. Hermione shot him a dark look and both Mike and Jason looked at him like he was crazy to have spoken out.
"They're brainwashed, Ronald!" Hermione snapped at him. He picked the button back up without thinking about it and she continued. "They've been enslaved for so long that they don't know any better."
"So, we're raising awareness." Mike added helpfully. He'd slapped the S.P.E.W patch to the chest of his plate carrier, which was sitting next to a chair. Hermione smiled at him and Brad couldn't help smiling as well. Damn, she had him.
"Count me in," Brad said, helpfully. He slipped the patch into his pocket. His plate carrier was upstairs, but he'd mount it later.
"Membership costs two sickles," Hermione said, biting her lip. She knew he wasn't paid in wizarding currency. "For the patches and buttons, and our newsletter."
"I'll figure something out," Brad said.
She divvied up assignments, telling a rather overwhelmed looking Ron that he would be secretary and needed to start taking notes. She assigned Harry to the role of treasurer and, unsurprisingly, Mike was Vice Chair.
With business taken care of, they headed down to the Great Hall. They were surprised to see so many people already down for breakfast. Saturdays were usually a day in which students slept in and were generally lazy.
This morning the excitement over champion selection would be keeping everyone awake. The group worked on breakfast while Mike dished out patches to unsuspecting troopers from 2nd platoon and Hermione solicited fellow students. A few seemed to humor her, but most were uninterested or hostile to the idea.
"I was thinking," Harry said, pushing eggs around his plate with his fork. "Did you want to keep sparring?"
Brad looked up. Harry had come a long way in a short time. He wasn't quite the nervous young student he once was. He had a lean musculature to him now, not just a skinny kid. He did have some work ahead of him though if he wanted to be a competent fighter.
"Sounds great," Brad said, smiling. It really did. He kept his skills honed with the other Reaper guys, sometimes he'd break the monotony with an operator from another team. It was something of a pleasure teaching someone else, though. "After breakfast?"
"Sure," Harry agreed.
"I still think we ought to get over to Hagrid's," Hermione said, having made it back from her semi-successful canvasing of the Great Hall. "It's been a while, you know?"
Ron and Harry both agreed. They made plans to go see Hagrid at 1500. That gave time for a morning sparring session and whatever else was decided on. When breakfast was over, they headed their separate ways.
Mike had plans for Hermione and steadfastly refused to tell her what they were. Jason and Eric were planning an afternoon in the Hogwarts Armory, cleaning weapons and gear, while Harry and Brad had their sparring session.
As they exited the Great Hall, Brad saw a familiar form moving across the Entrance Hall with purpose and grace. Fleur was determinedly making her way to the Goblet of Fire, a slip of parchment in her hand. She glanced at Brad as she passed.
"Good luck," he said automatically. Harry gave him a questioning look and she gave him a half smile. He couldn't help watching her walk for a moment, a small part of him wishing he was alongside her. He pushed the thought aside and continued with Harry to an empty classroom where they could work on their hand-to-hand combat skills.
"Where are we going?" Hermione asked. Mike was dragging her by the hand, one of the scarves given to her by Mrs. Weasley tied around her eyes. It was almost noon and she wondered where they could be going. If it took any length of time, they might miss lunch.
"You'll see," Mike said, giving her hand a gentle tug. She couldn't help but smile as she was led along. She could tell they were outside and, judging by how soft the ground was getting she suspected they were somewhere near the lake.
It wasn't warm outside, but neither was it particularly cold. The real saving grace was that it wasn't wet. The sun was warm on her forehead through the slight nip in the air and she thought that it must have dried the dew by now.
She kicked an unseen rock and lost her balance, but, like always, Mike was there to catch her.
"You okay?" he asked, a hand on her shoulder where he'd caught her. She nodded, though not being able to see was killing her. He led her on, more cautiously this time.
Finally, after what seemed like it took forever, she felt things cool and the brightness disappeared from the edges of her scarf. She was out of the sun and he stopped her.
"Okay, close your eyes." he told her. She started to protest that she couldn't see through the scarf anyway, but she felt him pulling it off and decided to honor his wishes. She tightly closed her eyes.
"So, I did some digging," Mike explained. "I found out that you have a summer birthday, which means you've never celebrated it here at school."
"I really don't-" she started, not wanting him to be making a big deal about it. She'd never had a birthday at school and she didn't feel like she was missing much. It wasn't a big deal. He didn't let her continue, however.
"Shhhhhh," he pushed his finger to her lips playfully and she couldn't help but smile and comply. "I wondered to myself, what would Hermione want...whatd'ya think?"
She opened an eye cautiously, looking to him for a reaction. She found that he was standing out of the way, however. Where she'd expected to find him, instead laid a checkered picnic blanket. On one side there was a paper plate stacked tall with little sandwiches that were diagonally cut, a preference she'd shared with him last year.
Th ere were other hors d'oeuvres spread around the blanket, which was situated in the shade beneath a tree and overlooking the lake. To the other side of the blanket, a stack of books on the history of house-elves.
"Oh, Mike," Hermione exclaimed softly, her hand reflexively covering her mouth. It was perfect. He smiled at her reaction.
"Glad you like it," he said, gesturing toward it. He opened his mouth to say something else about it but she cut him off.
There were butterflies in her stomach and she was so nervous, but it felt right.
She reached out to his hand and reigned him in. He allowed himself to be pulled close to her and she held his body against hers, pushing up onto the tips of her toes to kiss him. The butterflies left the second her lips touched his.
"It's perfect," she whispered through breathless lips. She felt his smile rather than saw it and kissed him again.
She let him finish setting things up. He propped himself up against the tree and she laid her head on his lap, each of them taking to a book and reading, listening to each other breathe and to the sounds of the lake.
Every now and then, one of them came across some interesting fact. Mike learned that King Carmine the Perfect was among the first owners of house-elves and it was reportedly less than cordial. Hermione was interested to learn that house-elves operated on a whole different plane of magic.
Mike was rapt in his listening as she explained what she'd learned, along with her conjecture. She found that they really had no need for wands in the first place and that many counter-curses and spells really weren't effective at stopping elves. For example, anti-apparition wards were not effective against elves.
They debated for a bit over whether or not that was a natural talent or if it had been bred into them somehow to assist in their service of witches and wizards. He asked intelligent questions and truly listened to every word she said and she relished in every moment. It really was perfect.
"Remind me again why Hagrid isn't doing this?" Jason asked wearily as he popped his neck. He and Brad were stooped behind the wall to the pumpkin patch, taking cover from random blasts of fire that erupted from the rear ends of the hideous creatures they'd been tasked with restraining. "Not that I'm complaining, but-" Jason was interrupted by a gout of flame that shot up over the small stone wall. Brad and Jason both gripped their shotguns tighter.
"Yeah," Brad sighed. Apparently, the Care of Magical Creatures Professor had been tasking the 4th year students with caring for Blast-Ended Skrewts. They were currently dog-sized, armored nightmares that seemed to be a cross of scorpion and crab with a flamethrower added, because why not?
The Professor had placed twenty or so of the creatures in a hardened cage and the remaining five were left in the pumpkin patch. Soon, the Professor got word that the creatures were wreaking havoc on the patch and threatening to break free. Instead of handling it himself, he'd apparently been tied up elsewhere, and Reaper team had been voluntold to handle it.
"They're righ' well armored, them creatures," Hagrid had said over a radio, borrowed from one of the school patrols. "You'll need somethin' big to crack the shell, but I'm hopin' yeh can jus' calm 'em down."
That had been about twenty minutes ago and Brad appreciated the fact that he'd seen fit to equip Jason, Eric and himself with M1 Tactical shotguns, along with 12ga slug ammunition. Rather than the BB's used in buckshot, the slug was a solid, roughly bullet shaped piece of metal, that would hopefully penetrate the creature's armored shell.
"His expertise would maybe help. Yeah," Eric said, several feet away and also ducking beneath the stone wall.
"I wish we had grenades." Jason almost sounded emotional, though he was certain it was the hair. His head had been a little too close to the top of the wall during the first blast and it singed a swath of hair from the left side of Jason's head. His skin was a little red, but he'd be okay. He was pissed about the uneven look it was giving him though.
"We're not fragging a bunch of crab-dogs," Brad said. This was ridiculous. They'd sat there with their thumbs up their asses for long enough. He'd just pop up and nail one. When their focus was on him, the others could get up and start firing. Fuck calming the damn things!
As though to punctuate his thought, another gout of flame blasted over the top of the wall above his head. At the same time, he noticed a large group of boys and girls gathering some distance away, no doubt attracted by the promise of action. They were mostly clad in heavy fur coats, but there were a few robes and silky blue uniforms in the mix.
When the flame stopped, Brad seized his chance and stood, shouldering the rifle. Much closer than he'd anticipated, a Skrewt shrieked at him. It whipped the stinger on its tail toward Brad but not in time. The shotgun kicked hard against his shoulder as he placed a slug right into the front, where he hoped its head was.
"Holy shit," Jason yelled, their ears ringing from the discharge of the shotgun. He'd apparently jumped up at the same time.
It was a turkey shoot from there. They executed the remaining three creatures from the safety of the wall, the fourth apparently having been burned to a crisp at some point during their battle.
Brad had worried about the reaction of the students. The sight of soldiers killing helpless creatures could be a touchy subject, but it appeared that the Blast-Ended Skrewt was not such a creature in the minds of their onlookers.
Applause and cheering erupted from the small crowd. It appeared the Skrewts were not among more-favored creatures. Brad, feeling a bit awkward under the direct observation, gave a small wave and instructed his guys to head to the castle and prepare for the Halloween Feast. They left the bodies wherever they fell, deciding that Hagrid could deal with them.
By evening, the Great Hall was bustling with activity. The Goblet of Fire had been taken from its room and was placed on a pedestal at the top of the stairs leading to the teachers' tables. Students had filed in early for the Feast and finally, Dumbledore saw fit to simply call the Feast to order early.
The few stragglers that came in were not upset to find dinner already underway, though the eating wasn't as enthusiastic as it was last night. Whether that was due to the fact that there was a full-blown feast yesterday or if it was due to the drawing afterward was uncertain. Brad mused that it was probably a combination of the two.
"It was something else, let me tell you," Ron said, stabbing a sausage with his fork and taking a bite. He was one of the few that was enthusiastic about the food, though that was hardly uncommon for him. "A crazy suit and tie...and he tried to tame his hair! I love him dearly, I do, but wow."
"I think its sweet," Hermione said, leaning comfortably against Mike. Brad had given Mike the pass to head out on his date next to the lake today and was happy for them, even if it did leave him a little short on their surprise detail to clear the pumpkin patch earlier.
"Yeah, because he is sweet!" Ron exclaimed. "On Madame Maxine. They walked to the castle together! He was like a puppy."
"So, wait," Jason said with a look of irritation. "That guy stuck us with the Skrewts for a date?"
"Bold move," Mike said with a grin, nodding in admiration. "We'll have to see how it pays off." Jason grumbled into his food, patting the spot on his head that now looked mostly like a sunburn, minus some hair.
They made small talk until, finally, Dumbledore stood. All three school heads were present, though the Ministry officials were elsewhere. When the plates cleared, Dumbledore spoke.
"Now that we are all full, I believe it is time to get on to the business of the night." Dumbledore's words were met with full applause from the excited students. Brad heard Hermione telling Mike that she hoped for Angelina Johnson to get picked. Everyone was definitely excited to see who the champions would be.
Dumbledore stepped close to the Goblet of Fire and, shortly after, the fire turned from its brilliant blue to a deep red. A smoking paper rocketed out of the Goblet and floated down gently in front of the headmaster. He plucked it from the sky effortlessly and read it.
"The champion for Durmstrang will be..." He paused for effect and, though the attempt was obvious, it left everyone on the edge of their seats. "Victor Krum!" Applause tore through the ranks of the students as he stood, being congratulated by his Headmaster.
"I knew he'd be picked, of course," Ron said loudly as he clapped. Headmaster Karkaroff lead his pupil through a staff door and out of sight while the clapping continued. It died down quickly into silence as the flame turned a deep red again, spitting forth another name.
"For Hogwarts," he paused again. "Cedric Diggory!" Loud cheering erupted from the Hufflepuff table and the rest of the school clapped for their champion. Hermione shot Angelina an apologetic look as they clapped. McGonagall lead Cedric through the same door. For a third and final time, the Goblet's flames turned red and ejected a name.
"And finally, for Beauxbatons," Dumbledore squinted at the paper closely. "Fleur Delacour!" Brad saw her hop up, beaming at her headmistress who stood with her. She quickly reigned herself in, resuming a more neutral look, and allowed herself to be escorted, through the uncomfortably enthusiastic applause of nearby male students, by Madame Maxine.
Dumbledore clapped along with everyone until the ladies were out of sight and then the applause died down.
"Well, there you have it," he said. "Our champions are selected and they will now be told-" The headmaster was cut off as the flame turned red once more. The immediate silence in the Great Hall was such that Brad could hear the flame launch another smoking parchment. Dumbledore caught it from the air quickly, reading it with his eyebrows furrowed.
"Harry Potter," he muttered as though just speaking to himself. It was so quiet that everyone heard it and their heads turned to him almost in unison. Brad felt it like a hammer blow to the gut. Someone put his name in. They're gunning for him again. "Harry Potter!" He said it more loudly this time and Brad stood up, gripping Harry by the arm.
"Let's go," he said. Harry, stunned into inaction, allowed himself led through the deathly quiet hall and into the chambers where the other champions awaited.
Inside the chambers, the Ministry officials were making small talk with the headmasters while the students congratulated each other. Fleur was the first to notice Brad and Harry, but other heads turned shortly after.
"Did zey need somezing?" she asked. Brad hadn't formed an answer by the time Dumbledore and Moody made it in to the room behind them.
"What happened?" McGonagall, a confidant of Dumbledore for many years, was the first to read the distress in the headmaster's eyes. He paused a moment, eyeing Harry.
"Harry was selected as a fourth champion." He said simply, without emotion, and it took everyone a moment to catch up with the magnitude of his statement.
"What?" Karakoff was the first to speak out. "Outrageous! If Hogwarts is to have two champions than I demand that we-"
"Marvelous," Ludo Bagman muttered, appearing to take delight in the development.
"'E cannot compete, 'e is too young!" Fleur cut in, looking to Harry, her brow furrowed.
"Nonsense," McGonagall said at the same time. "Harry can't compete, he-"
"Enough," Barty Crouch boomed, his curt voice sharp commanding. Everyone looked to him. "If the boy's name was drawn, he must compete. I'm afraid it is as simple as that."
"Bullshit," Brad objected, and he drew several stunned looks. "This is a blatant attempt to put Harry in danger, we can't let that happen."
"I don't think we have a choice," Moody grunted. "Binding contract and all."
"He's right," Barty confirmed. "Once entered, there's no going back." Harry took a seat, looking as though he'd been ordered put to death.
"How'd you get your name in?" Cedric asked, putting a hand gently on Harry's shoulder. There was no malice in the question, just curiosity.
"I didn't," Harry said numbly. He looked up at Brad, and Brad took the hint.
"He didn't," Brad agreed. "I was with him the whole night, he didn't go anywhere near the Goblet."
"'is name was eentered somehow." Madame Maxine squinted suspiciously at Harry.
"If Hogwarts gets two champions, I demand-" Karkaroff began again, but was cut off by Crouch.
"It simply doesn't work that way. The champions have been chosen, and that is the end of it. The flame is out until the next tournament." Crouch looked irritated but Brad decided it was his job to tread onward anyway.
"How does it work?" Brad asked. Crouch looked at him, annoyed, but he answered.
"Once a witch or wizard enters, they're magically bound to compete. If they do not, they will lose their magic." Crouch's answer perked Harry from his thoughts. The idea of living his whole life not knowing he was a wizard, only to have it stolen from him by a competition, it nauseated him.
"How does the contest track who is competing?" Brad asked, probing, searching for some loophole, some way out of it. Harry was a strong wizard and getting better every day, but Brad hadn't liked the boy's chances of surviving a competition of this magnitude, certainly not if someone was gunning for him.
Colonel Sumner and Major Price slipped into the room and came to stand next to Harry. Price gave him a comforting squeeze of the shoulder.
"By wand, I should think," Mr. Crouch answered, stroking his chin in thought. "It is a rather common way of tracking these things. The competing witch or wizard would undoubtedly have a wand with them, it would be the simplest way of keeping track."
"So, I could take Harry's wand and compete for him?" Brad asked, hopeful. He hadn't expected the furious rebukes from just about everyone in the room, however.
"You must be mad!" Moody exclaimed, one voice among many.
"You can' be serious!" Fleur exclaimed. Brad turned to her, but she was looking for Crouch to back her up. "'e isn't even a wizard!" She faced him again. It was tough to read her expression. He couldn't tell if it was concern or contempt. "I mean no offense, but you would stand no chance!"
"Quiet, everyone." Dumbledore admonished the outbursts. Once everyone had quieted, though their agitation was far from absent, Crouch opened his mouth.
"Erm..." He paused, thinking deeper. "Theoretically, but we have no real way to know."
"Sounds like a plan." Brad said firmly, turning to Colonel Sumner. "Colonel, requesting permission to operate in place of Harry for the duration of the tournament."
"He has no authority to grant that!" Karkaroff exclaimed and Moody, surprisingly, nodded in agreement.
"You'd be betting on Harry's magic," he said, his blue eye whirling around as though uncomfortable with the very idea of it. His tongue darted from his mouth and Crouch paused a moment, staring at the Professor for a full second before continuing.
"It's a lengthy process, having one's magic extracted," Crouch said, finally taking his eyes from the Professor. "We could have Harry stand-by, ready to jump in to the task if his magic is threatened."
"I'll call that a solid plan B," Brad said, looking first to Dumbledore for approval, then Colonel Sumner. No one moved.
"Someone's gunning for Harry, again," Brad said. "He was with me the whole night, he didn't put his name in the Goblet. It's my job to keep him safe, and I can't do that if he's competing in a tournament that he was trapped into. We'd be playing right into their hand."
"And here I thought you were the paranoid one, Moody," Karkaroff sighed.
"Are there any objections to allowing the muggle to take the place of this young man?" Crouch asked, looking at each of them. Moody grumbled about betting Harry's magic and Karkaroff did the same about the unfairness. "Very well, it is settled."
"Captain Gordon," Sumner said with authority, "You're relieved of command for the duration of your current assignment. Staff Sergeant Steele will take over your current duties and your primary focus will be exclusively on getting through this tournament alive." The colonel turned to Dumbledore. "With your permission, sir, I'd like to begin an investigation into who might have put Harry's name into that Goblet."
"Of course," Dumbledore said, nodding in agreement.
"'ow is 'e going to survive this?" Fleur asked. "'e may carry a wand, but 'e cannot use it!"
"A fair point," Dumbledore acknowledged, "However, I think that it might be best if we allow the Captain to bring his regular gear with him to the events. He carries more on him, but then his gear is not as versatile as a wand." There was a grumble but no real objection and, no real option if the operator was to survive. Crouch, not hearing a real objection, made his decision.
"Very well, Mr. Gordon. You may select your equipment and bring it to the wand weighing ceremony where it will be inspected and approved." There were no further points or objections, so it was settled.
Captain Gordon would compete for Harry in the events, hoping that it would be enough to keep the boy safe. Apparently, it had been too much to hope that Harry wouldn't be the target again this year.