A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything of Harry Potter nor the Band of Brothers miniseries. This is purely fictional. I mean no disrespect to the legitimate members of Easy Company. I give them nothing but my utmost admiration.

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"In with the outro and out with the old,
preparing for failure, from what we've been told.
In with the outro and out with the old
with nothing to offer, so nothings been sold.
In with the outro and out with the old
forgive me and give me
one more chance to fold.
In with the outro and out with the old
there's nothing to lose when there's nothing to hold.
We'll be together in the morning."

-"Career Day"- The Format

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Lieutenant Buck Compton crept silently along the periphery of the Great Forest. He had seen the castle on his descent to the ground, and just as the rest of the men, was perplexed and frightened equally. He figured it would have to be assaulted and taken, thus bringing about the loss of young, unblemished lives.

Damn this war.

A wide lake was situated about fifty yards to his left; the scene uncannily reminded him of a summer camp he had attended in his youth. But here, there were no smiling, carefree adolescents, simply the silence of a night that beheld the cold, hand of Death upon the air. Buck might have described it as serene, if the looming risk of wound or casualty did not linger about the nocturnal panorama.

The moon's dull, waxy reflection lay bare upon the surface of the still waters. Buck thought it appeared sullen, as if the great lunar globe was aware of the inevitable demise and suffering the night would surely bring. Or maybe it was just the internal whisperings of his soul. Thousands of stars shimmered like city lights in the water. Buck wistfully sighed.

Thump.

The sound had come from behind his position; a dull, minute sound that only a diminutive object could make.

Buck presumed it was a grenade.

He dove onto the solid earth.

Covering his head with both arms, he anxiously waited on the cool grass for the unavoidable explosion of the grenade.

1, he counted. 2. 3. 4. 5.

6?

The anticipated detonation had not come. A dud, possibly?

Arms still protectively raised, Buck elevated his head minutely to peer at the offending object.

Well shit.

The object was not a grenade at all, but a small pinecone.

"My God, the shit this war is already putting me through," he muttered, elevating his Thompson submachine gun and walking towards the fallen cone. Upon arrival, he picked it up off the forest floor and tossed it between his hands. Out of sheer curiosity, he gazed up into the tree above to see the source from which it detached.

The pinecone fell from his hands in shock.

There, about midway aloft in a tall, white pine, sat Private Donald Hoobler, deep in slumber. But the truly marvelous thing was that he had managed to position himself, perfectly balanced, on a single branch, so that his head lay against the trunk. Buck couldn't help but chuckle at the sight: who could sleep whilst a war went on around him?

Buck decided to amuse himself. Reaching down, he seized the fallen pinecone once more, drew his arm back, and took aim. Buck had been an all-star catcher while in presence at UCLA, and his arm threw with the force of that of a cannon. He released his wound-up limb, sending the pinecone sailing in a perfect horizontal line at the sleeping Donald Hoobler. It connected solidly with his forehead.

Hoobler's eyes flew open.

"Ah, shit!" he yelped. He immediately lost balance, tipping over and plummeting nearly twenty feet into a pocket of undergrowth. Upon his return to earth, he bellowed and scrambled to his feet, apparently uninjured.

"NOW WHO THE FUCK-,"

He paused as he noticed Buck. His stance calmed, but his eyes remained wild.

"Shit, sir, did you have to do that?"

Buck guffawed.

"Unfortunately, Hoob, with you sleeping on the job like that. Now, what supplies have you got?"

Still quite irate, Hoobler muttered a reply.

"Well, I have my pack," he motioned with his head to an olive-colored satchel leaning against the tree. "And I have my rifle, though the fact remains that the damn thing is broken. Trigger's busted and the stock's broken off."

He exasperatedly jettisoned the useless M-1 into a bush.

The anger suddenly vanished from his face and was instead replaced by one of trepidation and of tiredness and of homesickness. The emotions of war.

"By the way, sir, do you have any idea of where we are?"

Buck's own cheerful demeanor collapsed under the ponderous question.

"Now that, Hoobler, is the question. At the present, I haven't a clue as to where we are. I, probably just like everyone else, figure we'd have to assault this assumedly Kraut castle as some point."

Hoobler's eyes became burdened.

"Jeezus, sir, that's gonna' cost us a lot of boys."

"Yea I know. Let's just get moving."

Hoobler nodded his head in assent, and they started forward, proceeding along the fringe of the forest towards the castle. Buck led, armed with his Thompson submachine gun, whilst Hoobler trailed behind, defenseless and quite concerned. In silence, they continued along until they came around a bend in the perimeter, where the tree line curved slightly outward, obstructing their view of what lay behind. Buck dropped into a crouch, and Hoobler followed suit.

"Hoob, take point," ordered Buck in a whisper. "Be prepared for Krauts on the other side."

Hoobler stood motionless for a moment, before nodding tentatively. Making a rapid sign of the Cross, he advanced forward, halting behind the foremost of the trees. He hesitantly peered out from behind the tree and into the unknown of beyond. He simply stared for a few seconds, and then swiftly revolved his head and motioned for Buck to come forward.

Upon the Lieutenant's arrival, Hoobler informed him of the situation.

"Three figures located at a small hut about one-hundred yards from here. I can't tell what side their shooting for."

Buck nodded; sweat began to leak from his pores.

"Well, you know what that means, Don. Get ready for action. Here's the plan: I'm going to crawl forward until I get close enough for the identifier. If their not friendly, you will know within seconds."

Hoobler, eyes now wide, responded not, but instead sat like a stone. Buck sighed, and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey, Don, you'll be alright if anything happens," he encouraged, voice warm and sincere. "Do you hear me? You'll be fine. You have good training. Paratrooper training. We're the best of the best."

Hoobler glanced at Buck and observed the air of sincerity in his blue eyes and his deep voice. At these words and earnestness, he took heart. But it was for naught, for the fear immediately resumed its position resting heavily upon his soul.

Buck inhaled sharply, signaling his readiness for the task.

"Wish me luck," he stated sarcastically. "No, wait: the hell with luck! I'm doing this without that fickle bastard."

The other soldier did not make a reply. Buck tapped Hoobler's helmet lightly with the end of his Thompson and lowered himself to the ground. Putting one arm indolently in front of the other, he began a fastidious and lazy crawl towards the trio of figures. It was akin to a snake, slowly creeping along the earth in search of prey.

As he drew near, he could hear talk, but it was too muffled to distinguish the language. He took a deep breath and steeled himself.

"Flash!" he called out.

The reply came surprisingly softly, a calm, firm 'Thunder', and Buck instantaneously recognized the owner of the voice.

Buck clambered to his feet, and vocalized a joyous cry.

"Lieutenant Winters!"

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The Great Hall of Hogwarts was bathed in darkness and fear in the wake of the paratroopers, but its inhabitants had not yet discovered that this was in fact their identities. By House, they had arranged into precautionary, protective formations, with their respective Heads standing foremost, intermittingly calming them or shushing the rowdy ones. At the front of the Hall stood Professor McGonagall and Kingsley, along with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. They spoke rapidly and in soft tones, to avoid being overheard by the students and panic to break out at their words.

"But we must investigate whoever is outside! If it's in fact Voldemort's army, we are here defenseless like sitting ducks!"

"Hermione's right, Professor," agreed Harry. "We need to know what the situation is outside in order to effectively set up security. We need a scout."

The visage of Minerva McGonagall was tired and burdened as she into the eyes of the Chosen One. Such a brave boy, she thought, but it just may be his valiance that destroys him. Nevertheless, she had to make a decision. To potentially risk the life of a student or staff member, in order to "scout out" whatever was outside? Or to devise a more apt ploy, which would take planning and effort and could cost them valuable time?

Harry's insistent pleading drew her from her contemplation.

"Professor, you know this is the only option. We have no other means by which to find out what, or whom, is outside."

McGonagall felt her anger flare.

"Mr. Potter! Do not assume you can coerce me into any form of a decision! I know you have a good heart, but this may not be the best conclusion!"

"Minerva," interjected Kingsley, "Though it may be rather foolhardy, this is our only option as far as scouting."

McGonagall sighed heavily. She sat silently for several moments, and then spoke, strained and slightly trounced.

"Well, Mr. Potter, you may be right about this. But I cannot allow you, Miss Granger, or Mr. Weasley to venture out on this patrol! I cannot risk your lives."

"But Professor-,"

McGonagall held up her hand and shut her eyes in frustration. "No 'buts', Miss Granger. We shall find a volunteer amongst the Order."

She turned promptly towards the assembled student body and pressed her wand against her throat.

"Attention, members of the Order of the Phoenix: I must ask a grave favor of one among you. A scout is needed to discover what lies outside. I am not urging any individual; this is by no means forceful. Come of your own accord."

Surprisingly, a hand shot immediately into the air.

"I would like to volunteer, Professor," said the sweet, airy voice of Katie Bell.