AN - Blaze1992, in response to your comment, I would say the spell was silent and everyone was primarily focused on the guy fighting a dragon instead of the drop pod. Sorry for the delay in updating, folks. Enjoy!
Brad stopped at the armory inside Hogwarts to change out of his kit before heading up to the Gryffindor tower to get some rest. He set the ceramic plate aside. It was useless as armor now, the integrity now compromised by the hole, but he thought it would make a neat memento.
His rifle was placed in the rack next to his personal locker, where he stowed the shining golden egg. He'd clean all of his equipment tomorrow, he really didn't have the energy to tackle it then and there.
The adrenaline buzz had worn off on his way back to the castle and it left him feeling drained. Typically, he had after action reports to write and the like. That was one of the perks of competing in the tournament, he supposed. No reports.
He rinsed himself off in a makeshift shower that had been placed in the armory, inspecting his body for damage. His elbows were still scraped and his foot shared that fresh pink that Cedric had, the skin newly repaired from its burns. There was a bruise forming in his chest, but he was pleased to note that both his head and back felt fine. Not bad, after going toe-to-toe with a dragon.
Drying off quickly, Brad changed into a pair of jeans and one of his tan undershirts before heading upstairs. He received several claps to the back and handshakes from enthusiastic soldiers, giving him words of praise for his performance.
When he finally made it to the Gryffindor tower and opened the portrait, a party was raging inside. He hesitated, not wanting to enter the fray. It was too late to back out now, however, and he was pulled inside by Fred and Angelina.
"OUR CHAMPION!" Fred bellowed as Brad made it inside and the party erupted in cheers. Nearby, Harry and Ron laughed at the bewildered look on Brad's face.
"It's been decided that you're an honorary Gryffindor now," Ron explained. It turned out that, watching the event unfold, it had been decided that Brad displayed the courage, bravery, and determination that exemplified the house of Gryffindor. Brad suspected that it had more to do with them wanting an excuse to throw a party, however.
"Too right," George said, handing Brad a drink, the contents of which Brad did not intend to learn. He knew better than to trust them around food and drink, and slyly set it on a table nearby, picking up an empty cup instead.
"You did great out there," Fred mimicked holding a rifle and shooting up at the dragon. "Amazing stuff, I knew betting on you would pay off!"
"There were bets?" Brad asked. He should have known the two would have been taking bets on the outcome.
"And we bet on you!" George said, smiling broadly. He moved elsewhere in the party and Brad migrated to a corner of the room where Sara, Mike and Hermione were sitting together.
"Good shooting, bro," Mike said, holding a hand out for a fist bump. Brad obliged and leaned up against the wall, crossing his arms.
"Where is everyone?" He'd scanned the room and couldn't find Jason or Eric. He saw Harry talking with Ron and Neville about something, but the rest of the operators were gone.
"Oh, they're out," Mike evaded. Brad didn't like the sound of that. He opted to go for the weak link.
"Sergeant?" Brad asked, looking directly at Sara. She looked like a deer caught in headlights.
"Don't look at me," she said quickly, turning her eyes to the pastry she was holding.
"Mhmm," Brad said, but she was saved from further questioning by the portrait opening once again, silence descending on the room. Jason and Eric entered and, much to Brad's consternation, Jason was holding the golden egg.
"You stole my egg!" Brad said, patting his pocket for the key to his personal locker. It was still in his pocket. Jason just smiled, slipping a lock picking set from his pocket and then returning it. "You jackass," Brad said, accepting the egg when Jason handed it over.
"Come on, man!" Jason laughed, "We all want to hear what the clue is!" Brad had hoped not to be tackling this yet, but seeing the hopeful faces around him planted the seed of curiosity in his mind. It wasn't a bad idea to get started on the riddle right away, after all.
"What," Brad lifted the egg above his head and noted with amusement that all of the heads in the common room turned up to follow. "You want to hear this?"
A cheering chorus of affirmation rang out and Brad smiled. He turned the egg over, examining it thoroughly for the first time. It was surprisingly simple, just shiny gold with four grooves and a small indentation at the top, just enough for a fingernail to get in.
He pried it open and almost dropped it when a high-pitched screech emanated from it. He fumbled with it a bit as people gasped and covered their ears and he managed to get his hands around the bottom, forcing the egg closed. His ears rang for a moment afterward.
"Sounded like a banshee," Seamus Finnigan said, breaking the silence. "Maybe you've got to fight one of those next."
Brad opened his mouth wide, trying to ease the discomfort in his ears. He'd been at ground zero when the egg screeched in his face. A banshee? He'd heard of them before but was sure that most of what he knew was myth and not fact.
Small arguments broke out over what the meaning of the hint could be. Torture and banshees wound up being the two most prominent theories.
They stayed up for a little while longer, winding down from the thrill of the tournament and their energetic party. Brad sipped at a glass of some kind of sweet juice that he wasn't familiar with, only accepting it because it hadn't come from Fred or George.
Neville, the poor kid, turned into a giant canary, the first to indulge in one of their prank sweets. Hermione, for her part, slyly worked out how the two managed to get so much food for the party. Before realizing that they were revealing their secret, they'd told her how to get into the kitchen.
They immediately regretted it, fearing that Hermione would stir rebellion among the house-elves. She refused to confirm or deny her plans and the twins left, looking worried.
Finally, Brad announced he was turning in. He was dismayed to see it was approaching one in the morning and he was exhausted. He was unconscious before his head hit the pillow.
"Gator 1-1, go ahead," Sumner spoke into the radio. It was after midnight, but he was still awake in the FOB Phoenix command center. He wanted to be up when his squad retrieved the reentry pod containing an anti-tank weapon.
Gator had entered the Forbidden Forest within an hour of the first task finishing. They'd checked in at regular intervals, reporting nothing of import the entire time. As it got darker their progress slowed. The Forbidden Forest was a dangerous place and, of course, whatever happened to the pod had knocked its GPS tracking device out as well. The pod was dark, no GPS signal whatsoever.
It had been many long hours before Gator team made contact at a time that wasn't their scheduled check-in.
"Gator 1-1 reports objective success. Will make way to checkpoint..." he paused, presumably checking his map for the nearest stretch of roadway for the Humvees to meet them. "Bravo. Checkpoint Bravo, ETA twenty mikes, how copy?"
"Overlord copies all," Sumner replied. "Overlord out." He stood up, stretching his back. Twenty minutes until they made it to the road, then probably another fifteen or so before they reached the FOB.
Sumner left the communications room and returned to his office to wait for the return of Gator squad. He was glad that they'd accomplished their mission, but then he'd expected no less from them. Still, it was a weight off his chest to know that there wouldn't be centaurs roaming the countryside with a recoilless rifle. He liked them better with bows and arrows.
He sat down in his comfortable chair and sighed, looking at the report on his desk. Picking it up, he thumbed through it. It was a relief to know that all four dragons were now safely on the way back to the preserve from where they'd originated.
He'd been perilously close to losing his cool when the Ministry informed him that the first task would involve dragons. Knowing that he had an operator in that fight, he was not in the least bit excited at the prospect of sending that man into the fire, figuratively and literally, without intel or backup.
It took a night of wrestling back and forth in his head over whether or not to go against his promise to the Headmaster to uphold the integrity of the tournament. In the end, he'd chosen to trust his operator to know his shit, in addition to having a difficult time compromising his integrity. Thankfully, Brad was a top-notch fighter and he came out on top.
It wasn't pretty, but then it didn't have to be. Brad made it out of there with ten fingers, ten toes, and zero brain damage. That was a win in Sumner's book.
Now he was stuck trying to get things prepared for the second task, and that promised to be even more of a struggle for his man than the first one was. The plan was to recruit a closely held relationship, one for each champion, to act as hostages for the merpeople under the lake.
Dumbledore and the Ministry assured Sumner that the hostages would be in absolutely no danger whatsoever, but he still found it difficult. Asking one of his boys, because that was who Brad cared most about, to go be an underwater hostage...it was a tall order and one that he didn't relish in.
He reviewed the likely subjects. Harry was the first one that came to mind, and he was just as easily dismissed. The whole reason Captain Gordon was participating in the tournament to begin with was threat against Harry. Putting him underwater as a hostage wasn't an option.
Next up, Ron or Hermione. Neither of them really fit the bill either. They were friends, sure. They weren't the closest though, not like Mike and Hermione or something like that. Sgt. Freeman was a new addition to Reaper team and there wasn't much time for her and Brad to get acquainted. He could use Mike, Eric or Jason but the thought of pulling one of the team members for hostage duty really didn't excite him.
He decided to shelf the thought process for now. There would still be plenty of time to select someone and he wasn't getting anywhere running the same thoughts over and over again. It'd probably seem obvious once he came at it with a fresh mind.
Setting the paperwork down, he looked at his watch. It had been almost forty minutes. How time flies. Sumner had just reached the front door of his office when he heard the familiar rumble of Humvee engines. The only rigs that were out were with Gator squad.
Sumner headed to the motor pool, arriving just as they finished parking. Sergeant Long hopped out of his seat, quickly pulling the long cylinder from the back of the Humvee. Another soldier from the same vehicle pulled out a bright flashlight, illuminating a spot on the side of the pod.
"Clear as day," the sergeant grunted. There was a large dent in the side of the reentry pod. Before the colonel could ask, Long continued. "Landed in a little clearing. No rocks, no trees. Nothing to hit that would have caused this."
"The pod as upright?" Sumner asked, knowing it wasn't likely that the pod landed on its side. The top of each reentry pod contained the computers and gyros necessary to accurately land it where they wanted and how they wanted, along with fins to slow it down prior to landing. There were also small jets to slow the pod further and for minor course correction if it was necessary.
"Affirmative." Sgt Long chewed his lip a moment. "She landed just like she should, only with a big ass dent in the side." He widened his eyes in surprise, realizing he just let a curse slip in front of the colonel.
"Get it to the armory," Sumner ordered. They'd just have a Gustav recoilless rifle at the FOB, not that they really needed it. He looked at the sergeant for a moment, then turned and left. The sergeant knew he'd messed up and Sumner had bigger fish to fry.
Brad woke with a start, reflexively reaching for the hand that had gripped his shoulder before realizing that he recognized the face. It was Jason. The room was still dark with night and though Brad still felt tired, he was alert with adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream.
"Sorry, bro," Jason said, recognizing the look on Brad's face. Brad had been sleeping deep when Jason woke him.
"What's up?" Brad asked.
"Sumner wants you at the FOB ASAP for a briefing," Jason said, standing fully as Brad sat up and slid out of bed. "Didn't say why."
"Shit," was all Brad could say. He figured it had something to do with the tournament. Still, he couldn't help the thought that he'd just been told he wouldn't be attending briefings. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was 0434. It was gonna be a long day.
He pulled on a uniform as Jason went back to his duties. Once he was satisfied, he headed downstairs and heard the rumble of a Humvee waiting for him. That meant that the colonel really did want to see him ASAP, which meant something was wrong.
Brad hopped into the front passenger seat and the Humvee was rolling before he had a chance to get the door closed all the way.
The drive was uneventful and Brad rested his eyes, milking the last dribbles of rest while he still could. Quicker than he'd hoped, they were arriving at the FOB and Brad was dropped off by the command building.
"Sir," one of the sentries acknowledged Brad as he entered the building. Sumner was talking to one of the communications technicians when he entered and the colonel stopped mid-sentence.
"My office, now." The colonel turned to finish his business while Brad worked his way to the office, a pit in his stomach. Brad entered and sat at one of the chairs in front of the desk, waiting for what seemed like an eternity.
Finally, the colonel opened the door and stepped inside. Brad started to stand up but the colonel waved his hand, walking quickly to his chair. "Sit," Sumner said as he himself took a seat. Sumner looked Brad in the eyes wearily. "You were right."
"Sir?" Brad asked. It was a relief, at least, to know he hadn't pissed of the colonel.
"The reentry pod, something hit it. Knocked it out of the sky." Sumner rubbed his tired face. "Someone is tampering with the tournament, and this time they were gunning for you."
"I see." It was confusing, the puzzle pieces didn't fit together very well. But he was certain that they fit together. Someone had entered Harry's name into the tournament, presumably to cause him harm. Now that Brad was competing for him, their sights were on him. "Better me than Harry, at least."
"I still don't like it," Sumner said. "This whole magical contract thing is a pain in the ass." It was one of the things Brad liked about their senior officer. He didn't tolerate insubordination but he wasn't a stuck up prude either. If he didn't like something it was a safe bet that he would speak up.
"Yes, sir, it is," Brad replied, and he felt the full truth of it. Fighting that dragon had not been his idea of a good time and it was only going to get more challenging. It presented a unique challenge, not being able to whisk Harry away to safety. Now that the competition had started, there was an obligation to stay and finish it out.
"I want to keep you in the loop, as much as I am allowed." Sumner looked seriously at Brad. "Someone is gunning for you and probably Harry too. You watch your back and keep an eye out for anything suspicious."
"Understood, sir." Brad stood up as the colonel did.
"You've done good out there, son," Sumner said, shaking Brad's hand. "Keep it up. Dismissed."
Brad left the office and headed outside. It was still dark out. When he looked at his watch he saw that it was ten after five. Not wanting to go through the process of obtaining a driver to get him back to Hogwarts, he opted to walk.
The walk was peaceful. Small animals and creatures were starting to stir as the sun peeked over the horizon. Not for the first time, he decided he liked nature. It had a calming effect on him.
He spent the walk thinking about the egg. It had screeched loudly when he opened it. Not the response he'd been expecting. He was certain that Mr. Crouch had used the term "riddle" when explaining their next task.
So what did that mean? Perhaps that he was going to have to open something unpleasant or loud? That wouldn't be ideal. He hadn't thought to include his headset with the gear. He wasn't going to be talking to his team or to command during the tasks, but the noise cancellation feature might come in handy. Unfortunately, headsets had not been included in the equipment list aboard the ODCS satellite.
Or was the screech a trick? Did he need to endure the wretched sound for a certain amount of time before it would reveal the riddle? A dirty trick if that was the case. He'd bet money that no one would listen to it for any length of time unless it was getting down to crunch time. If that was the case, then by the time anyone got desperate enough to listen all the way through, they'd be low on time to prepare.
He made a mental note to try that sometime soon. He had plenty of time to solve the riddle, but he'd rather be early than late.
Brad listened to a few birds fluttering from branch to branch, chasing each other in the crisp air of a new day. It made him think of nests for a moment, which inevitably brought him back to the egg. He tried to picture it and realized he hadn't inspected it too thoroughly, inside or out.
Perhaps the riddle was printed somewhere on the egg. Most likely in the egg, since it made such an obnoxious sound when you opened it. A trick to distract the champion while they tried to figure out the riddle.
He'd made it close to the castle when he heard a giggle from nearby that made him jump. He'd been so lost in thought about the egg that he'd let his guard down. He cursed himself for the lack of discipline and wrapped his fingers around the holstered sidearm he was carrying when he heard someone speaking in rapid French.
With a start, he realized he was actually only a few dozen feet from the Beauxbatons carriage. He was still staring at the carriage when a feminine voice from nearby asked.
"Are you looking for som'zing?" He turned to face her and she looked familiar. It was the girl Fleur was talking to a while back.
"You're Fleur's friend," Brad said, and she smiled. She didn't respond, however, and Brad realized that he hadn't answered her question. "No, I was just passing through."
"So, you weren't looking for anyone?" Brad had the distinct impression that she was talking about Fleur and had no intention of jumping into that conversation.
"No," he replied simply. "What's your name? I'm Brad." He didn't see any reason to use his rank, being about as outside the chain of command as he could currently be.
"I'm Clara." She stepped closer and he could see she was holding a silk robe tight over her shoulders and a damp towel. She extended a delicate hand and he shook it, surprised by how cold it was. He wondered if she was on the way back from meeting someone from the lake, perhaps a liaison with one of the Durmstrang boys. They stood there for a moment and she broke the silence. "She is different, you know?"
"Fleur?" Brad couldn't imagine who else she would be talking about, but he felt the need to clarify.
"Oui, part-veela. It makes boys act crazy around 'er." She nodded her head and smiled at some memory she had, probably of someone making a fool of themselves.
"I noticed that, actually." Brad was thinking about when Ron first saw her. Acting crazy was a polite way of putting it.
"I would be surprised if you didn't," she laughed, with maybe a hint of jealousy in it. "Yet, you never act like it." She cocked her head to the side, as though puzzling over it. Brad thought of the many, many instances where he almost did. She turned and began slowly walking toward the carriage.
"Well," he followed alongside her. "That wouldn't be becoming of an officer." It was a lame line, but the best he could come up with. What was he going to say? She's super attractive and I have no idea what to do with that. How about no.
"She zought you volunteered for ze tournament to impress her." She said it as they reached the door to the carriage. He stopped in his tracks, surprised. Clara laughed lightly. "It wouldn't 'ave been ze first time someone did somezing crazy to impress her, and she was..." she searched for the right word. "Disappointed...when she zought you were like the ozzers."
"Is that so?" Brad's sudden adrenaline rush at realizing that she cared enough to have an opinion on him was embarrassing.
"Oui." Clara clearly enjoyed his response and he quickly pushed his rush of emotions aside, regaining control of himself. "Zank you for escorting me to ze carriage. It was chivalrous of you."
"Anytime," Brad said lamely. Damn he sucked at talking to girls.
"I'll tell Fleur you stopped by." She winked at him as his eyes widened, but she didn't wait for a response. She opened the door and stepped inside. The inside of the carriage was well lit and looked like it had the space of a mansion crammed into it.
Brad turned back to the castle and started back at a jog. Suddenly, he wasn't so tired anymore.