AN - Thanks to each of you that left a review on the last chapter! I really appreciate it and I'm glad you guys are enjoying the story. Hope you all are staying safe in this crazy year. Enjoy
Eden sat down in the familiar armchair. Damn, but it was nice to be back. He'd only been here a handful of times, right after purchasing it, but everything had been furnished how he liked it. Nice lighting, comfortable furniture, rugs and paintings that were actually enjoyable to look at. Nothing like the dark and moody Malfoy estate.
Almost immediately following his takeover of the Death Eater organization, he had set his people about scrubbing the Malfoy estate clean. The only thing he'd needed to establish prior to that, was that no one present in the room was to breathe even the slightest hint that Voldemort had been replaced. The story was that Eden was now Voldemort's number two, a response to the failed operation at the Ministry. By the time they'd finished, it looked like a suspiciously clean home...just the way he wanted it.
The estate had been a painfully obvious target for the soldiers once the Ministry let them off the leash, and Eden had known that it was absolutely going to be raided. Having been the target of such raids in the past, he'd known exactly how to handle it. Hell, he'd planned it out beforehand, because the muggles were nothing if not predictable.
Then, he'd ordered everyone away, leaving the house elves with the impression that the Malfoy's had taken a simple holiday. It would be an obvious lie to the raiders, but they would find nothing of value in the manor, aside from implications that the Malfoy's had fled the country.
At the same time, Eden had rapidly assembled a list, with the help of his beloved Bellatrix, of those most likely to remain loyal to Voldemort, along with those least useful to the cause. From that list, Eden quickly built a network of intelligence that he was able to use to string the muggles along.
He knew they'd raid other locations too, and so he'd planted intelligence, the last bits of which he'd finished planting just yesterday, leading them down the list of Death Eaters that he found undesirable. He'd carefully structured things to keep them busy, giving him time to shore up his own group, establishing a network outside of that originally used by the Death Eaters.
Eden wasn't sure how far along the muggles had made it against the distraction, but it hardly mattered. The necessary sacrifices had been made, and he was currently sitting in his own property, outside of Dewlish.
It was a large estate, the back end of which was butted against the woodline. There was a large, U-shaped driveway that led to the front gate, as the whole property had been enclosed by a tall, stone fence.
Halfway between the gate and the house, there was a hedge maze. Not his cup of tea, but then it's hard to find the perfect home. Plus, he supposed it looked nice as viewed from the master bedroom. The house itself was massive, three stories and sporting nine bedrooms, two dining halls, and an array of other features. Secluded and secure...an excellent headquarters for his operation.
The only thing he wasn't really pleased with was the fact that Lucius, Narcissa, and their brat Draco were here. Something about them rubbed him the wrong way, and they were the most well-known of Voldemort's suspected lieutenants...the surviving ones, anyway.
It was a risk to keep them around. A minor one, but a risk. Still, Bellatrix was related to Narcissa, and apparently that family tie wasn't lost on her. He had to give credit where it was due, Narcissa had seen the writing on the wall and pleaded for her family to remain with him. Her pleas had fallen on deaf ears...to start.
Bellatrix had been convincing, even going so far as to craft her own plan to ensure it would be safer. She had taken Narcissa to South America, where she had made sure to be spotted and photographed. Concerted efforts to find the Malfoys would be directed elsewhere.
And the perks...Bellatrix had been particularly...affectionate...since they'd returned. He wasn't an idiot, he knew she was effectively bribing him, manipulating him to do what she wanted. But, damn it was a price he was willing to pay.
Eden picked up the box in front of him and pulled out the invisibility cloak. It was one of very few items that had been in Voldemort's room, and it was the thing that now dominated his mind.
The Deathly Hallows...three epically powerful items which could be used to conquer death itself, and he had one of them. Two more and he would be the most powerful being in the world.
He could close his eyes and imagine it. Entire nations bowing at his feet, unable to stand against his might. He would be able to do anything he wanted.
Eden heard the footsteps and set the cloak back in its box before Bellatrix had time to enter. She was leading the muggle soldier, Mike, around by a leash. His eyes were glazed, obviously under Imperius again, and he was carrying a stack of books with him.
"Brought you something," she said sweetly, yanking the leash. Mike almost toppled over, but his curse-addled brain managed to correct his course and keep him upright. He set the books down on the table, just to the side of the box.
All of the books were related to the Deathly Hallows. She'd been very supportive of his search for them. He wondered if he'd be able to keep her around once he had all three. Would the temptation of power be too much for her, would she try and take the Hallows for herself?
He wasn't sure. She'd probably be happy to have an endless supply of new blood to toy with, whenever she wanted. She was clearly getting more bored with the muggle, his days were likely numbered.
"What's new?" he asked, thumbing through the topmost book. He had delegated the Malfoy's to intelligence gathering duties, mostly because he found Narcissa and her brat to be nauseating. The duty kept them both away from the manor for a significant portion of the day, and then Bellatrix often got the news for him, leaving him free to pretend she didn't exist. And they only went to his strongholds, anyway.
"Dumbeldore is back at the school," she said, fiddling with the collar around Mike's neck, trying to cinch it tighter. "Left Rufus Scrimgouer in charge of the Ministry." He watched her shapely bottom as she worked and she caught him, giving him a wicked grin that he couldn't help but return.
She pushed Mike into the corner and sat on Eden's lap, her pouting lips and wild eyes sending his heart into overdrive. When he reached for her buttons, she leaned back for him.
Who was he kidding, there was no way he was getting rid of her.
"Sit," Rufus Scrimgeour ordered, and Sumner obliged. The man looked as though he was trying to be polite, political...but he was obviously a wolf among sheep. The rest of the Ministry officials present were career politicians. Scrimgeour had, until recently, been an Auror.
The top Auror, mostly a management position, but still. One didn't spend their life as a fighter and forget that when their ass hit a desk. Sumner had to respect the man, and he forgave the rough edges easily.
"I'd like to know what is going on," Scrimgeour said, looking to Sumner, "straight from the source."
Yeah, Sumner liked him. The rest of the officials present, mostly from the Aurors office, looked to him for a response. While it was technically the Ministry running the show, Sumner and the two companies that TFA had deployed had been given a long leash and permission to use that as they saw fit.
"For the last few weeks we've maintained a tempo of between one and three raids per night, every night. Not all of the raids were successful in terms of detainment and intelligence gathering, but overall the operation has been a success," Sumner said. He looked to each of them in turn, and started down the numbers he'd rehearsed.
"At this point we have detained just over thirty known or suspected Death Eaters. We have intelligence suggesting that several of Voldemort's lieutenants have fled the country and we currently have other resources trying to track them down. As for Voldemort himself, we have no leads at this point." It wasn't lost on Sumner that Scrimgeour was the only one that didn't cringe at the sound of that name.
"I have been told that your operations are starting to slow down, is that correct?" Scrimgeour asked. There was no accusation in the question, no judgement, simply asking for facts.
"You are correct, yes," Sumner acknowledged. "The Death Eaters are starting to get smarter about their information security. The individuals we've been capturing know next to nothing about their organization and leadership. The few known Death Eaters we've captured have obviously had their minds...altered. We're trying to work around it, but no one is optimistic. On top of that, we're finding next to nothing by way of physical intelligence."
Scrimgeour frowned at this, but didn't speak for a minute. He was clearly gathering his thoughts. Another point in his favor. There was nothing worse than talking out of your ass because you wanted to sound decisive.
"Very well," he said finally. "I would like you to conclude any operations you are currently working on. I would like future intelligence to be passed directly to Madam Bones. I want the Auror office to begin taking a more direct role at this point."
"Yes, sir," Sumner nodded, not sure how he felt about being cut out like that. It was understandable, you didn't want some foreigner coming in and fixing the whole country for you. Still…
"Please understand, Colonel," he said, looking earnest, "I appreciate what you and your people have been able to do for us these last few weeks. It is important that we begin doing our part. You've been invaluable and I hope I can count on you for continued tactical support, should we need it. That is especially likely when we find where Voldemort has been hiding."
"Of course," Sumner replied, "my people are here to help." It'd be good to get his people some rest, anyway. This tempo had everyone exhausted.
"Excellent, thank you." He turned his attention to a blonde woman with her hair pulled back tightly. She was the Muggle Liaison, and Sumner found that she reminded him of Ella-Louise. "Curia, I'd like an update please."
"The Prime Minister assures me that he would be open to a joint venture, similar to our American counterparts," she gestured to Sumner, who nodded. General Thomas would be pleased to hear UKSF was getting their own Ansible program started.
The meeting progressed from there to updates from the various departments. Places were starting to get back to normal. The only exception was the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, which reported a slightly higher population of known or suspected dark creatures in the country.
While this was concerning on its own, the fact that France, Germany, Belgium, Greece, and the United States had all noticed less dark creatures gave the data a little more worrying skew. Were dark creatures flocking to the UK?
Brad fought back a yawn as he stood at rigid attention. His body kept urging him, so he compromised with a deep breath, his jaw remaining tightly clamped shut. It stretched his lungs just enough to satisfy the need. He held a perfect salute as the honor detail brought the five caskets, each covered by an American flag, to the front of the assembly area near the shore of the lake. His heart had skipped a beat, seeing the line.
Almost the entire garrison from FOB Phoenix was present, along with the whole school. Things had started with a memorial for the students that had died, Cho Chang and Neville Longbottom. Each of them had received a similar speech, evidently the wizarding standard funeral rites, followed by something more personal by their friends and family.
The end of each ceremony was punctuated by the casket bursting into blue-white flames. They burned for a time, without sound or scent, until the caskets simply disappeared. He overheard as Hermione explained to someone that it was an enchantment which sent the casket to its resting place. Wizards didn't dig holes in the ground.
As the honor guard procession passed, the crowd was silent. Even Slytherins knew to keep their mouths shut. The caskets were set in a neat row, each next to another.
Brad, along with the rest of his team, was seated in the front row for this. The front row was painfully, conspicuously empty. Aside from Brad and his two operators, there was Spectre team and Colonel Sumner. That was it.
Normally, the front row would be filled by immediate family and close friends. Having grown up training for combat, never knowing their deceased parents, they only had each other. That wasn't any more apparent that it was with Phantom. All four members dead, they only had the rest of the operators and the Colonel.
Brad tried to stay focused during the ceremony. Jason's flag was inspected, the gun salute was performed, the bugle played...and the entire time, he fought to wrap his head around never seeing one of his best friends again. Even now, it didn't feel real.
"Captain Gordon," the honor guardsman handed Brad a trifold flag, "on behalf of the President of the United States, the United States Army, and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one's honorable and faithful service." The man saluted, and Brad saluted back.
The entire process was repeated four more times. Each individual operator from Phantom team received their honors. Each of their flags were presented to Colonel Sumner, who stood on the other side of the aisle from the surviving operators, in stoic silence.
When the entire service was over, the witches and wizards did their part. Their caskets too were engulfed in that magical flame, transported to their resting place. Brad had no idea where that was, physically, but he knew their names would be added to the special operations wall at Fort Bragg. That would be where respects were paid.
As the crowds broke apart, people introducing themselves to each other, learning new and different facets of the lives of their departed friends, Brad stepped several paces forward to the empty bit of ground where Jason's casket had rested. The grass there was flattened in a neat, rectangular shape, which was already beginning to spring back into place. There was no sign of the flame that had removed his best friend from these grounds.
"How is he?" he heard from behind him, just over the din of the crowd. A melodic voice he was attuned to listen for. He doubted very much that he could miss it anywhere.
"He's, uh-" Eric stammered in response, trying to come up with the right words and speaking in low tones in an effort to prevent Brad from overhearing it.
"He's not great," Sara finished, matter of factly. Her voice carried and Brad knew she didn't care if he overheard. He liked that about her, she owned her opinion. Shared it a lot, too, but still.
"We're going out pretty much every night," Eric agreed.
The operational schedule was high tempo, but that didn't mean that no one got any rest. Brad made sure that they were getting a reasonable time to rack out and get some sleep, and he often took it on himself to shape up their gear before volunteering Reaper for the next assignment.
He'd explained it every fucking time someone asked, too. The fact was, sooner or later, one of these raids would turn up Voldemort. They weren't going to be on that raid if they sat on their asses. If they were going to get payback for Neville, for Jason, for Mike...for all of them, it would be in the field.
"I've missed him," Fleur said, quietly enough that Brad almost wasn't sure he'd really heard it. He held himself perfectly still, his gaze on the grass, which now looked as though it hadn't been disturbed in a millenia. "I've missed all of you."
Thoughts of raids, of Death Eaters, and revenge...all of it faded from his mind at the words, which sliced through his armor like it wasn't there. He overheard a little small talk before Fleur dismissed herself. He heard her footsteps in the grass behind him and forced himself to remain still, his heart thumping against his ribs faster with each closer step. The breeze changed and he caught that familiar vanilla/cinnamon scent.
He turned to see her standing just behind him. She was every bit as tall and beautiful as he remembered her, in a modest black dress. Her hair was done up in an intricate bun that accentuated her neck and she had sparkling earrings that matched her necklace.
He couldn't be sure, but she also looked thinner. She hadn't been starved to the point of emaciation, but he knew she'd lost weight during her imprisonment. He wasn't certain if it was enough to notice visually, but he felt those familiar talons of doubt sinking in, threatening to subdue him again.
"Hey you," she smiled, but he could read the worry in her eyes. He saw no sign of disgust or disdain, no sign of anything but joy to see him and worry that he might not return the feeling. That look carved another small part of his heart.
"Hey you," he replied, returning the worried smile. Her eyes lit up and she stepped forward, reaching for his hands. He grabbed hers midway, making the critical mistake of glancing down at them. He saw the words carved into her hand and stopped.
She must have noticed his look, because she quickly dropped her hands, hiding them against her dress. He stared down, unable to look away, unable to meet her eyes again.
He couldn't do it. Not now, not until those motherfuckers paid.
"It was good to see you," Brad said, fighting not to look back to her eyes. Like tearing off a band-aid, he left without another word.