AN – I have seen this done before in other stories and liked it. Dialogue that is italic (for example, "talking about stuff") is in a foreign language understood by the speaker. The most obvious example being that if things are from Fleur's perspective and she is speaking French to someone, it will be italic. English-only characters cannot understand what she is saying or hearing, but she and other French speakers can. Thank you all for reading and enjoy!
Brad sat down in the FOB Phoenix interrogation room. He'd been waiting for the last half an hour and still had no idea why. It would be putting it gently to say he had been summoned from the castle. He was walking to the armory for another attempt at repairing his egg when he was cornered by four MPs from the FOB, who told him in no uncertain terms that he was coming with them, now.
So, here he sat, with no idea what was going on. Only a general impression that whatever it was, it wasn't good. He'd been on the opposite side of the interrogation chair before. He looked to his wrists and felt thankful that he wasn't cuffed. That, at least, was going in his favor.
Finally, the door opened. Colonel Sumner entered followed by a thin man in official looking robes. The badge on his chest read DMLE. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Brad was familiar with the term, though that was the extent of what he knew about them.
"Captain," Colonel Sumner said formally, "this is Detective Oliver Noah of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He's here investigating the disappearance of a reporter, Rita Skeeter. I expect you to cooperate fully." The introduction out of the way, Colonel Sumner propped himself against the wall, crossing his arms to watch the interrogation take place.
"You're Captain Bradley Gordon?" the detective asked. Brad raised an eyebrow. After getting no response from the detective, he answered.
"Yes, sir," Brad replied coolly. The detective smiled and took a seat across the table from Brad. It was the smile of a man who thought he knew something.
"Where is Rita Skeeter?" The detective stared straight into Brad's eyes, waiting for an answer.
"I have no idea, sir," Brad answered, glancing at the colonel. Sumner made no response.
"Did you or did you not tell Rita that you quote 'hurt people for a living' while she interviewed you?" Detective Noah asked, an assured grin on his face.
"Yes, sir, I did," Brad replied, cursing himself and that pervert cameraman, the only other person that had been in earshot when he'd said it. The detectives grin turned to a frown. He apparently hadn't anticipated Brad to readily admit the truth. "She was threatening me with slander."
"Captain," Colonel Sumner closed the distance in a flash, slamming his hands down on the table. "I could have you tried for Article 133 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice!" The detective jumped at the outburst, but appeared satisfied to have the back-up.
"Sir, yes, sir," Brad stared straight ahead. The detective smiled again as Sumner stood, looming over the captain.
"Where is Rita Skeeter?" the detective asked, this time more forcefully.
"I have no idea, sir." The detective didn't seem pleased by Brad's response.
"Did you kill her or order her killed?"
"Absolutely not, sir," Brad replied instantly.
"Captain Gordon, under the code of UCMJ 134-19 I swear to God I will reign hellfire on you if you are lying to this man, so answer the damned question!" The colonel was in Brad's face by the last word.
"Sir," Brad replied coolly, "I have not seen Rita since she confronted me in the street."
"And what happened then?" The detective asked.
"She was detained for disturbance of peace," Colonel Sumner replied, still eyeing Captain Gordon harshly. He turned to the detective, "As I said before, I instructed her on the regulations regarding reporters on Hogwarts grounds and released her."
"Yes, I see." The detective seemed to see anything but what Colonel Sumner had explained, but he had no evidence to prove TFA was responsible for the disappearance, so he kept quiet. "I'll contact you again, should I have more questions."
"I'd be happy to answer them for you, sir," Brad replied.
"Of course you would," the detective smiled ruefully, then stood and left.
"So, did we disappear someone?" Brad asked as soon as the door latched closed.
"No," Sumner replied. "MACUSA sent me word that an investigator was coming, about ten minutes before the man showed up. Apparently Rita is missing and the suspicion falls on us. Sorry to throw you under the bus like that." The colonel was getting better at the political side of the job. "No way to let you know without tipping them off that we knew."
"I understand, sir," Brad replied. There had been no time to get a warning out. It begged the question, though. Where had that literary terrorist gone?
"Back to your duties, Captain," Sumner replied. Brad stood, saluted his CO, and left.
As Brad made it back to the castle, he saw someone he hadn't seen for a while. Draco Malfoy had just been heading outside the castle when he saw Brad on his way up. Conspicuously, Draco turned and quickly walked back into the castle. It had been a while since Brad had to deal with that little douche bag, and he wondered why.
His mind quickly returned to thoughts of the second task. He needed to figure out where in the hell there might be caves in the area. Or dungeons perhaps.
He'd tried opening the egg again and nothing happened. The small, circular dome at the bottom was cracked open and one of the wings of the egg remained separate from the rest of it. Clearly he wasn't getting any more information from it.
He thought back on it. The screeching, singing voice mentioned being underground. And he'd only heard something while he was in the shower. He wondered if the steam had anything to do with it. Underground and steamy. The first thing that came to mind was a cave. Caves could be humid, right?
After idly walking upstairs he made it to the Gryffindor common room. Inside, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were working on homework. Well, a more accurate way to put it was that Harry and Ron were working on homework and Hermione was offering tips and pointers, having long ago completed the homework assigned during their Christmas break. With only tonight to finish the papers, they had their work cut out for them.
He sat down across from Hermione and regarded her for a moment. She carried herself much differently than she used to. No longer was she the nervous brainiac with poor social skills. She was much more at ease around people and significantly more assertive. Mike had been a good influence on her.
"Hermione," Brad got her attention. When she looked up from the boys' homework, he continued. "What do you know about caves in this area?"
"Caves?" Hermione asked, looking genuinely confused. "I don't know that there are any..." she trailed off.
"What about cave dwelling creatures? You know of anything like that?" Brad asked. She cocked her head to the side in wonder.
"Well," she started, deciding to answer him before asking her own questions, "the Tatzelwurm comes to mind. Kind of a mixture of a dragon and a large cat, with spikes."
"That...sounds wonderful. Can they talk or sing?" Brad asked, imagining trying to fight a cat-dragon while he attempted to fit what she was saying into his clues. She giggled a little.
"Erm, no, they can't. Why do you ask?" Her curiosity had finally gotten the better of her.
"I'm trying to make sense of the clue in my egg," Brad admitted. "It says I'll have an hour to search underground for something that has been taken from me."
"I see. It could be a dungeon in the castle, too." Hermione added helpfully. "I just don't know of any caves around here that might have creatures fond of stealing things...or singing."
"That's okay, thanks for your help." He stood up, stretching. "I think I'll go for a walk, try and keep my mind on it." He had one more place to look, but he'd wait for nightfall for that.
Fleur Delacour picked at the remainder of her food, alone in the Great Hall. Almost everyone else had long since eaten and she'd had Clara fix her a plate of food during the regular mealtime. Fleur had been studying the bubble-head charm in her room during dinner.
She'd always been naturally good at charms. Still, the bubble-head charm required a degree of precision and she kept producing bubbles that were either too thin and would break easily, or were too thick and difficult to see out of.
It had taken her longer than she cared to admit to recognize the watery symbols inside the golden egg, which is what started her habit of staying in the carriage during dinner time. She didn't want to force everyone to listen to that wicked screeching sound every time she opened it.
Once she figured out the symbols, it had been much easier. She poured herself a bath and took the egg with her. When she listened to it under the water, it was much clearer.
Come seek us where our voices sound,
We cannot sing above the ground,
And while you're searching, ponder this:
We've taken what you'll sorely miss,
An hour long you'll have to look,
And to recover what we took,
But past an hour – the prospect's black
Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.
She knew of only one species that sang underneath the water and couldn't be understood above ground, merpeople. She hadn't known that it would sound like such terrible screeching, however.
So, knowing that she would need to spend an hour underwater, she began looking for ways to do that. The bubble-head charm was the easiest, or so she'd thought. She read about gillyweed, but once she found out it would cause her to sprout gills, she nixed that idea. It was repulsive to think about having gills in her neck for any amount of time. Just thinking about it again made her shiver.
Deciding that she simply wasn't hungry, she pushed the plate of food to the center of the table and stood. After a moment the food disappeared, leaving a clean, empty plate behind. She headed back to the carriage, planning to work more on her charms.
She'd made it just past the staircase when she heard footsteps behind her. Before she could turn and look, a voice called out and the footsteps quickened, catching up to her.
"Hey, how's it going?" Brad asked, falling into step beside her. She couldn't help a partial smile that formed on her lips. She hadn't seen him since the Yule Ball and had begun to wonder if he was avoiding her. Clearly, thankfully, that was not the case.
"Bonjour, Brad," Fleur smiled at him. "I was just on my way to the carriage."
"That's too bad, I was about to take a walk around the lake," Brad replied. Fleur glanced over at the large lake. The sun was beginning to set and it cast a beautiful shimmer on the water.
"Did you want some company?" she asked. Brad responded with a smile that she took as a yes, and they both turned toward the water, walking at a slow pace. She remembered how nice it felt, walking with him arm in arm, being close to someone without them turning into a drooling mess. Before she'd consciously decided to do so, she found her arm slipping into his again. He pulled her gently closer as they walked and she relaxed into him. After a long moment, she spoke. "So, why are we walking around the lake?"
"Well," Brad sighed, "I'm considering the clues in that egg." Fleur stood upright more, raising her eyebrow. He stopped walking and she turned to face him.
"I wonder what zey are going to take," Fleur mused, shifting her gaze to the lake. He turned and followed her gaze.
"Yeah, I dunno," Brad replied. He glanced behind them and pulled away from her. When she looked back, he was seated comfortably on a little log that had fallen over. She went and sat next to him and was relaxed further when he put his arm around her back.
She wasn't used to boys being close to her without turning into a vapid shell, and hadn't realized how frustrating it was. It was exhausting keeping herself on guard at all times and she found it refreshing that she could relax around Brad. She thought about it for a moment and decided to push the envelope just a little further, still exploring her comfort zone.
She scooted in close to him and rested her head against his shoulder. Brad's arm tightened around her and she was glad for it. Being close to him didn't feel restricting, it felt protective, like nothing could touch her. She felt his chin rest gently on her head and knew they were both just staring into the lake.
Fleur had no idea how long they stayed like that, unmoving. It surprised her that he was able to stay so still for so long. She shifted a couple times and he just adjusted with her, but wasn't until the sun was almost completely set that they wordlessly and somehow unanimously decided it was time to head back.
She stood up to stretch and caught him watching her. It didn't feel like the predatory gaze of other boys and men who stared at her though. If she wasn't paying attention they seemed to lose their minds around her.
When Brad watched though, it felt different. There was a spark of desire in his eyes, of that she was certain, but he always maintained discipline. She liked that he talked to her without trying to impress her, without focusing on her looks. She also liked that they could sit together without saying a thing and still be relaxed and comfortable.
It made her wonder if he was always such a protector of things. He'd rescued her and Gabrielle, her sister, from bad men at the Quidditch Cup, along with taking Harry Potter's place in the tournament. She still felt bad about mistaking his reasoning for entering the tournament. For so long, boys around her did outlandish, stupid, and dangerous things to try to impress her. She simply hadn't been prepared to see him doing something stupid and dangerous for noble reasons.
"Thank you for inviting me to spend the evening with you," Fleur said, the sound of Brad standing up pulling her back into the moment. He placed his hand at the small of her back and they started walking toward the carriage.
"No, thank you," he said as they started. "It was a great way to spend the evening."
They enjoyed each other's company all the way back to the carriage, the subjects of their conversation changing rapidly. They talked about the Skrewts that had been terrorizing the Care of Magical Creatures class for the majority of this year so far, and speculated about where the Durmstrang ship came from, among other things.
"It has been a nice eve-" Fleur started, but the carriage door swung open with a bang. Clara burst out giving Fleur a scandalous grin.
"You've been alone with him all evening!" Clara laughed. Fleur felt her cheeks flush and launched forward from Brad's side, smacking Clara in the arm.
"Stop it," she said. "It wasn't like that!"
Clara recoiled a little from the slap but the grin remained firmly planted on her face. She grabbed Fleur by the hand and pulled, leading her into the carriage.
"Goodbye, Brad," Clara called out as she disappeared into the carriage. Fleur gave one last glance back as she was lead in, a look that said sorry, she's crazy. He was just smiling at her.
Clara led her straight to their shared room. The cabin was very roomy but not enough so to give everyone private rooms. Madame Maxine had promised them that the champion could have a private room, if they chose, but Fleur didn't want to give up the space with her best friend.
"So, what did you guys do?!" Clara exclaimed as soon as the door was shut. Fleur felt the familiar rush of blood to her cheeks and Fleur covered her face with her hands.
"It wasn't like that," Fleur insisted, sitting down on the side of her bed. Clara sat on her own bed, directly across from Fleur. She didn't respond and when Fleur looked up, she was still wearing that look of scandalous disbelief.
Fleur threw herself back onto her bed, grabbing her pillow and covering her face with it, muffling the sound of Clara's laughter. She was unbearable sometimes.
Brad stood there a moment, savoring his evening, and then decided it was time to finish getting intel.
He started the long, cold walk to FOB Phoenix. By the time he reached the main gate it was completely dark outside. Brad presented his ID and was let in. He walked straight to the Command and Control building as though he had business there, which in a way he did.
It wasn't official business, but it was business nonetheless. Inside, he walked to the back of the building where the drone operators were. Inside, he saw a pilot flying one of the UAVs over the Forbidden Forest. He slipped in and stood behind the pilot's shoulder.
"Evening, Lieutenant," Brad said, eyeing the insignia on the pilot's collar. The pilot looked up at Brad, confused.
"Uh, hello, sir," she said, confused by his presence.
"How are things looking out there?" Brad asked, pointedly looking at the screen. The pilot resumed controlling the UAV.
"All quiet," she replied simply.
"Very good," Brad said, standing erect again. "I'll let you keep at it." He slipped out of the room, one hand in his pocket. Once out, he made for the Records room. Looking both ways to make sure no one was paying attention, he swiped the drone pilot's access badge against the reader and the light went from red to green, the door unlocking.
He pushed his way in and went to the single computer terminal inside the room. There were filing cabinets filled with requisition order forms, personnel files, and other such bureaucratic items. The computer was where his prize was, however.
Brad sat down quietly, typing in his log in information. He simply had to hope that no one was keeping a close eye on the records terminal. He wasn't technically allowed in the system, being that he was assigned to duty as a Triwizard Champion. The system could have things that would give him an edge over other competitors, which was, of course, why he was here.
He ran a search through the database of reconnaissance reports looking for any mention of the words "cave" or "underground." He found that there were no caves or other underground systems in the Forbidden Forest or on Hogwarts grounds.
There was, however, a small network of caves in the mountains north of FOB Phoenix. Smiling to himself, he logged off of the computer and slipped out of the records room. He put the drone pilot's ID badge on a counter in the small kitchen and left the FOB, running the coordinates of the caves through his head over and over until he made it back to the castle.
He went straight to the armory where he grabbed his SOLDA and plugged the coordinates in. Over the next few weeks he'd explore every nook and cranny in those caves so that come time for the second task, he'd know the layout by heart.
A tall, balding man sat directly in the sunlight with a deep frown on his face, propped up against an old Land Rover. He loosened the tie he was wearing. It was hot. Too fucking hot for January. He should be inside, sipping hot cocoa with his wife, Sandra. Instead, he was on this miserable continent, hunting down a fugitive on a decidedly cold trail. Unfortunately, it was the only cold thing about this place.
He was in The-Middle-Of-Nowhere, Egypt. His escort, a pair of locals from the General Intelligence Directorate. They knew this desert like the back of their hands and knew all of the unlikely places someone might hide.
A special operations team had tracked Howard Eden halfway across Africa and lost the trail in a small village, somewhere in Burundi. After some digging around, the CIA caught wind that the Egyptian GID had filed a report of someone matching Eden's description poking around this area. The investigation lead them here.
So, The Company sent Mr. Burke. He'd worked for the CIA for most of his adult life. For the last year or so he'd been assigned, directly by the President of the United States, to a sub-command of JSOC, Task Force Ansible.
They needed someone well connected in the intelligence community, someone who could get things done outside of internal JSOC abilities. The downside of that meant he was stuck working for the Army now, not the other way around. It wasn't often someone from the company was assigned to an Army command. Usually it was the other way around.
A pot-bellied man stepped forward out of the tomb and Mr. Burke looked down at him. Only one of his two escorts spoke English, and this was the guy that didn't. The man spoke slowly and beckoned Burke forward, as though speaking slower was going to fix the language barrier.
With a sigh, Burke pushed himself from the Land Rover and followed the pot-bellied spy down into the tomb. It was cramped and dark, the light from the sun rapidly disappearing as they worked their way into the tomb. Soon, the dim glow of chem lights provided all of their light.
Finally, as the passage narrowed to a nearly claustrophobic point, it opened up into a wide room. Battery powered lanterns were set about the large tomb. With as humid as it felt in the tomb he wondered if they could even light a torch.
Just past a stone sarcophagus stood Amon, the GID spook that could speak English. He was standing over a table covered in parchment and old books.
"Very strange," Amon said, his accented voice echoing in the tomb. The fatter one, Bes, went over to a corner of the room to relieve himself. Burke sighed, wondering why the man had waited to do it inside the ancient tomb.
"What have you got?" Burke asked as he stepped to Amon's shoulder. He glanced at the papers and parchment. He couldn't speak or read Arabic so the text was like...well, ancient Egyptian...how often could you say that literally? The only thing in English on the table was a light blue book, Tales of Beedle the Bard.
"This is all about ancient magic," Amon replied, pointing to a sketch of a darkly cloaked demonic figure that appeared to be sucking the spirit out of a man. "Dark magic."
"How so?" Burke asked cautiously. This is where the line he needed to tread became thin. The reality of magic was a closely guarded secret and he couldn't go talking like he believed it was real. It was, however, real, and it appeared that Eden was researching this stuff. That made it important.
"It is a warning for those who would split their spirits," Amon said, pointing at a figure that appeared to be forcing an organ into a small figurine. "It tells of a dark place where those who would perform such magic are tortured for eternity by the lack of their soul, that they are consumed by the desire to feel whole again and become slaves to those who know magic."
"I see," Burke said. So Eden was learning about ancient magic. That almost never turned out well. "I'll take pictures of all of this stuff, see if our guys can make sense of it."
"Very strange for a fugitive from law to make his way to a tomb of this nature, to study ancient mythology." Amon turned to face Burke, trying to glean some further information from the American. Burke didn't respond. Instead, he pulled out a small camera and began taking front and back pictures of each page. As soon as the camera reconnected to the satellite, the pictures would upload to the JSOC database and analysts would be pouring over every pixel.
Further digging through the jumbled mess on the table revealed a crumpled up handkerchief. With any luck, there would be DNA on it. Sweat, hair, anything that could give them a positive ID. It was going to take time to get it to a suitable lab, however. Burke bagged it and headed back up the narrow passage.