A/N: If only the wizarding world appreciated the Muggle world more. The Harry Potter series would've been a lot shorter.
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
Four loud bangs, and the four robed men collapsed to the ground in quick succession, still clutching their wands as what was left of their brain matter sprayed across the floor and wall behind them. Their intended victim, tied to the sacrificial altar in the middle of the room, fearfully opened her eyes after several long moments. She was a Muggle, to judge by her clothes, completely terrified and totally ignorant of the truth of what the dark wizards had been about to do with her. That was just as well, since that particular truth would have been far worse than even the most horrific nightmares she could imagine.
She was safe now. The local police would be along shortly to free her and she would never know how close she came to a fate worse than mere death. The police would ponder her captors' motives and eventually dismiss them as Satanic lunatics or something equally erroneous. The local Aurors would know better, and would watch carefully to make sure the whole story faded away into obscurity, possibly even changing the unfortunate Muggle's memory if it came down to it.
On the rooftop of a building over a thousand meters away, the woman's savior coolly dismantled his sniper rifle and returned the components to their case. He had lain patiently on that roof for five hours, waiting for all four of the wizards to make their appearance. He had almost pulled the trigger when the first two had shown up with their sacrificial victim, but he couldn't risk any of them escaping. So he waited for the others, watching through his scope as they tied the terrified Muggle to their cursed altar.
Wizards. They were always so overconfident, arrogant. Never would they imagine that a Muggle could pose any sort of threat. Most wizards, even dark wizards, stuck to the wizarding world, and had a very feeble appreciation of the danger they faced when they crossed the line into the Muggle world.
It had been a long, long time since wizards engaged in all-out warfare. Muggles, on the other hand, were always finding better ways to kill each other. And a wizard, like a Muggle, could only defend against a threat if he or she could see it coming.
As the sniper calmly exited the building and was absorbed into the throng of pedestrians crowding the New York City sidewalks, he dialed a particular phone number and tapped the small device hidden in his ear.
"You've been out of contact for quite a while, Mr. Reese," came a distant voice, slightly colored with concern.
John Reese smiled slightly. "You were worried about me. I'm touched, Harold."
"Anything to report?"
"The problem's been handled. They won't be bothering anyone ever again." Reese was skilled at understatement. It was one of his more charming features.
"Good to hear, Mr. Reese, because we just received another number. A woman has hired a couple of hitmen to kill her cheating husband." Faint disapproval shone through Harold's voice. The murder-for-hire, or the cheating, Reese wondered?
"I'll take care of it."