AN: Next chapter! Also, this might be the last chapter I post before Christmas, so just in case: Merry Christmas!

Unknown Location…

Any appearances of civility between the two figures had long since vanished. The taller of the two, spindly, pale, and almost inhuman to look at, kept raging throughout the room, the sound of chains haunting his every step as he physically tried to destroy his surroundings.

The smaller figure—though not by much—had instead opted to stay in his seat, a smug grin on his face as he watched his rival lose hold of his patience. In this game, losing one's patience meant defeat, and he was glad he had not been the first to break. Yet, even as he crossed his arms over his chest in a gesture of superiority, he too could hear the sound of chains rattling as he moved his limbs.

The taller figure turned and pointed at his counterpart in rage.

"YOU!" he raged, spittle flying through the air, but falling well short of the shorter man. "End this pathetic charade at once! I demand you release me!"

The shorter figure kept his smug grin—it was appropriate. "Not a chance, my dear fellow. As long as you're here, you're not there."

A flash of cunning appeared in the taller man's eyes. "But that goes both ways, too. While you're here, keeping me locked up in this…cage of yours, you can't be out there helping your people!"

The shorter man shrugged indifferently. "That would be a problem, I suppose, if my subordinates were incompetent. Thankfully, I have surrounded myself with quite the cast of bright minds."

The smug way the shorter man had spoken simply infuriated his rival, and the shorter man knew it.

"What's the matter? Shouldn't your forces be able to work things out by themselves? That's what good subordinates do, isn't it?" he taunted.

The taller figure snarled and tried to deck his shorter rival, but the punch, predictably, simply passed right through him as though he wasn't there.

The smaller figure laughed outright at the futile action.

"Really? Really?" he asked incredulously. "Did you forget? This place isn't real. That's," he motioned towards his counterpart. "not your real body—or even your actual appearance, I'm guessing—nor can it feel pain, or touch things."

The taller figure glared. "You can," he pointed out, somewhat petulantly.

The smaller man smirked. "Well, it stands to reason. This is my mind," he said smugly. "I'd hate to see what yours looks like. Probably all death and dungeons, or something along those lines."

The older man shrugged, either not interested in denying it, or tacitly admitting to it.

His rival merely smiled. "Besides, you're my prisoner, not the other way around."

The taller figure snarled. "Only until I garner enough concentration to shake off this ridiculous link!"

The shorter man laughed. "Why do you think I've been making you play games or talk?" he asked knowingly. "Every time you follow my lead, you lose all the focus you need to break this chain. Hell, unless you're able to completely block out the sound of my voice, you won't be able to. Not until I say so."

The taller figure growled audibly. "And when will that be?"

The shorter man merely smiled complacently. "When the time is right."

Hogwarts Castle

Never had the hallowed halls of Hogwarts Castle been witness to so much noise before. The sound of Tank's L2A1 heavy support weapon drowned out all other sound as said trooper poured lead down the halls of the once hallowed castle. So far, their mission had been one disaster after a problem after a hitch after another. They had found the way into the castle via the cave that General Longbottom and his troops had used to rest after their epic climb up the cliff, and almost from the get-go, they had found opposition.

Opposition which went against all their alleged intel.

Everyone had assumed that since the second gate had been unmanned, the castle would also be empty, given that it meant that the entirety of the enemy troops were on the field. How wrong they had been.

The fireteam had been forced to dash down several corridors before they had been able to lose their pursuers—but not for long. Thankfully, it was long enough for them to raid several rooms of their furniture and create a makeshift barricade, upon which Tank had then set up his L2A1 and begun tearing up the hallway with fiery lead. Dozens of the enemy fell at a time every time he swooped the machine gun left and right, and his ammunition belt went through spasms every time the gun spouted flame and metal. Over all that noise, Tank could be heard whooping as he tore down the enemy ranks trying to make their way to his team's position.

Still, they couldn't stay here forever. They had a mission to accomplish, improbable though that seemed now. Still, improbable wasn't impossible, so they were willing to risk it.

The problem was whether or not they left Tank alone.

"Whatever Tank says, we can't just leave him alone here," Vlad said flatly. "Those walking statues just need a few seconds to reach him while he reloads before he's done for, and I'm not willing to sacrifice men for nothing."

Snap nodded. "So, who stays?"

Vlad glanced at his two female subordinates, though the polarized visor glass prevented them from knowing this. It took a few minutes, but finally he seemed to make up his mind.

"I'm staying," he declared, to their surprise. "You two are much faster and agile than I am, and I trust you two enough to see the job through, no matter what happens."

A slight shift in Vicky's posture showed that she had glanced at Snap for a second, and Vlad immediately understood the unasked question.

"Bolt, you're team leader. That alright, Snap?" asked Vlad, turning his head slightly to face his other female subordinate.

Snap nodded once. "It's fine, sir. Bolt outranks me anyway," she replied easily, and Vicky could just imagine the Quebecker woman giving a small self-deprecating smile.

Vlad nodded, pleased that there wasn't going to be any trouble over this.

"Alright, then," he then said. "Considering our position, I recommend you two start with the Great Hall, then move to the towers if the VIP isn't there."

"Why not the dungeons?" asked Snap. "Wouldn't that be more defensible and harder to access?"

Vlad nodded. "It would, but it would also serve as a horrible place from which to direct any offensives, and my gut tells me that moving golems isn't something you can do blindly."

The two women nodded, accepting his analysis at face value. Vlad was the only wizard of their group, after all, and they had no way of personally knowing whether that was true or not.

So instead, they saluted Vlad rigidly, and their CO responded by returning the salute just as rigidly before turning and manning the barricade alongside Tank, the combined noise of their weapons managing to drown out any other noise there might have been in the decimated hallway.

Without taking a glance back, Vicky nudged her head down the other way, and Snap nodded once in acquiescence. In seconds, the female duo was barrelling down the hallway, weapons readied should the enemy pop out of somewhere unexpected.

Within her helmet, Vicky had brought up the floor-plans of the castle on her visor screen and was quietly guiding herself via the two flickering dots on the map, which denoted herself and Snap.

"How much further?" she heard Snap ask.

"Twenty meters, then a left turn," she quickly replied, glad that the helmet's communicators prevented anyone else from hearing them. As they neared the corner she'd previously mentioned, she raised a fist and the two quickly came to a halt, their bodies lined up against the adjacent wall.

Vicky turned her head to look at Snap. "I'll cover. You go for the opposite corner," she suggested. Snap nodded in agreement.

Vicky raised a hand—the one not on the trigger—and put up three fingers. She then lowered one. Then the next.

Snap's body tensed up in anticipation.

The third finger went down and the two sprung into action.

Sweeping down into a crouch, Vicky brought her weapon to bear as she turned the corner—making sure that it still covered most of her body—and got ready to fire at anything that might have entered into her field of vision.

For her part, Snap had darted across the open hallway towards the opposing corner, where she quickly lined herself up against the wall, took a deep breath, then emulated Vicky by sweeping down into a crouch and taking aim at the short spread of hallway that led to the Great Hall's doors.

There was nothing.

Both women sighed in relief, but were no less alert for it. They were deep in enemy territory, so there was no telling what could suddenly spring out of nowhere. Plus, they could still hear the noise coming from their makeshift barricade, which was bound to attract unwanted attention.

Looking down the hallway, Vicky estimated that there was about 15 meters between them and the double doors. She quickly clicked on her team radio.

"I estimate fifteen meters between us and the doors. No cover along the hallway," she stated evenly.

"Confirmed. I estimate fifteen meters as well," replied Snap dutifully. "How do you want to do this, Bolt?"

Vicky thought for a moment. "Standard two-man team deployment. I'll go in first, you're on my arse."

"Copy that."

It was a testament to how far "in the zone" the team was that neither Vlad nor Tank had taken advantage of the fact that Vicky and Snap were talking on the team radio to make lewd comments about Vicky's choice of words.

Slowly, Vicky came out from behind the corner and hugged her wall, still moving in a crouched position. She wasn't about to give her enemies more of a target by standing up. Moments after she'd come out, Snap emulated her by coming out from behind her corner and quickly making her way towards her superior, though doing so in an upright position.

"Anything?" asked Vicky through the comm.

"Negative. No movement. Looks like we're clear."

Vicky nodded to herself and picked up the pace slightly, quickly closing the distance between her and the doors. Despite however mindful she was about the noise they were making, however, she grimaced as she could clearly hear the tapping of her boots against the cobblestoned ground.

"You'd think that with the amount of renovations they've put this place through over the centuries, they'd remodel the freakin' floor," she muttered angrily.

"They probably thought it part of the castle's charm," ventured Snap as she swept her weapon's sights left to right and back.

"Were they right?" asked Vicky, curious.

"Hell no. It's like walking through a fucking dungeon!"

Their conversation quickly came to a halt the moment they reached the piece of wall right next to the Great Hall doors. To their right, they could see the expanse of hallway that led to the front doors, but they knew there was absolutely no way to open those, magically sealed as they were.

Instead, Vicky activated her team radio again. "Vlad, this is Bolt. We've reached the Great Hall doors, over."

She waited a second before Vlad's response came back. "This is Vlad. Looks like the enemy's attention is all on us, so you two shouldn't meet much resistance. It's—Jesus!" the comm was suddenly drowned out by the sound of weapon fire, causing Vicky to feel her stomach drop. Had Vlad been killed?

She needn't have worried, however, as she soon came back on the comm. "Sorry; some dirtbag felt the need to try and relieve me of my head. Anyway, you two go ahead with the operation and scout out the Great Hall for the VIP. Like I said, most of the enemy's attention is on us, so you should meet, at worst, minimal enemy resistance. Still, for safety's sake, use the fiberscope to make sure the coast is clear before attempting a breach—copy?"

"Copy all, Vlad. Out," replied Vicky before nodding at Snap, who in turn proceeded to turn slightly and ruffled through her belt pouches for the aforementioned fiberscope.

In a few seconds, the two women had crouched next to the door frame and had unravelled the fiberscope. Vicky was crouching in front of the double doors, while Snap had the camera's transmission frequency linked to their visors.

After making sure that the camera worked, Snap gave Vicky a thumbs-up, which the other woman responded to by slowly sliding the fiberscope underneath the massive doors.

"I've got an image," Snap said suddenly, making Vicky stop sliding the cable immediately. "Looks like they've refitted the room into a throne room of sorts."

"Big fucking surprise," they heard Vlad say over the comm.

Snap paid the man no heed and motioned for Vicky to continue. "Two long tables on either side of the room, ominous looking chair I'm assuming is a throne at the very back. Looks to be deserted."

"Suggestions?" asked Vicky.

Snap was silent for a moment before answering. "Looks and is are two very different things, especially when it comes to magic. I suggest we turn on the thermal view and make sure we're not about to get ambushed."

Vicky nodded. "Agreed. Switching on thermal vision."

Almost instantly, Snap's view of the room switched from normal to thermal vision—blue and green and brown replaced by yellows, reds, and blacks. "I'm not reading any apparent thermal activity. It really looks like the whole room is deserted."

"I guess we should move out, then?" suggested Vicky.

"Aye…alright, pull—wait."

Vicky had been about to pull out the cable entirely when Snap's retraction had come. "What? What is it?"

"I saw something. Movement at the very back of the room. Quick! Push the camera further in!" urged the Quebecker woman, which Vicky quickly complied with.

Snap was silent before giving a triumphant scoff.

"I knew I'd seen something! Behind the throne, barely a meter to the left—there's someone sitting in an invisible bubble. Looks to be confined there, too."

Quickly, Vicky turned on her own camera feed and attentively observed the pictures coming through on her visor. Indeed—she had been about to dismiss the whole sight as insignificant thermal activity, until something in that precise area had moved and the thermal imaging had spiked.

"Agreed. Looks like we almost missed it due to the invisibility charms," said Vicky. "Reckon it's the VIP?"

"Seems as good a place as any to keep one, especially if one is a megalomaniacal tyrant who loves to toy with his prisoners," commented Snap.

"Odd that he'd be left unguarded, though," noted Vicky. "Too convenient."

Snap was of a different mind, however. "They never expected us to get in here, remember? Tank and Vlad must be driving the defenders mad, so they're not likely to think that there's more of them running around the place."

Vicky nodded in reluctant agreement, unable to shake off the feeling that things were going too easy. Still, she pulled out the fiberscope, deactivated the feed to her visor, and handed over the coiled instrument to Snap, who quickly stashed it in one of her belt pouches.

"Standard breach. I'll go first, you cover."

"Explosives?"

"No. Don't need to attract attention, and if what you say is correct, there won't be anyone to kill once we open these doors."

Snap nodded in agreement and brought up her weapon to bear as she and Vicky lightly stepped towards the hanging doorknobs. Again, Vicky raised three fingers, causing Snap to nod once in acquiescence and her weapon to rise in readiness to cover for her superior.

Three fingers.

Two fingers.

One finger.

Vicky pushed against the door with all her might and burst into the room, quickly making for the cover of the left-hand side table. Behind her, Snap had started a little later and had her weapon held high, its muzzle sweeping left and right as she covered their dash for cover.

It was Snap's sudden halt that caught Vicky's attention.

Vicky had reached the table and had crouched down at the very end, ready to move again once Snap had reached her position. Thus, when her comrade had failed to appear after a few seconds—in fact, the sound of boots on stone had ceased entirely—Vicky had peeked out to see what the problem was.

Simply put, nothing was wrong.

Well, technically speaking, anyway.

All that Vicky could see was that Snap had stopped mid-run towards their designated position and was apparently staring down the room towards the throne they'd seen through the fiberscope. Most unlike her, Snap had dropped her weapon from its ready position to her side, loosely hanging in her grip.

"Snap!" Vicky called out through the comm. "Snap, what's wrong!?"

The woman from Quebec didn't respond. Instead, it seemed she kept staring at the throne, which Vicky couldn't understand. It hadn't looked like much through the fiberscope—what could have possibly caused her teammate to freeze up so suddenly?

Then, first imperceptibly and slowly more and more conspicuously, Snap raised her free arm and, shaking like a leaf, pointed at the throne.

Vicky turned her head and looked towards the barely illuminated area. "What? What is it, Snap?" she asked, before deciding that having her teammate out in the open like that just wasn't good for either of their health. Sprinting towards her, she made a grab for Snap's uniform, and it was then that it hit her.

She didn't know what it was, or what could possibly have emitted such a thing, but all of a sudden, it took her every ounce of willpower she had not to collapse onto her knees. It was as though an intense, evil pressure had descended on her, and even breathing had become harder.

"W-What the hell is this?" she asked between gasps.

"D-Demon…" she heard Snap say over the comm, and Vicky was struck by just how utterly terrified the otherwise confident woman sounded.

Indeed, Snap's body language had receded from ready soldier to frightened girl as she involuntarily took a step back and dropped her weapon as she brought her hands defensively against her chest. It looked odd on her, considering the full-body armour and helmet, but the message was clear—Snap was officially out of commission.

Vicky, for her part, was more worried than afraid of what she was feeling. She assumed that it was due to her extensive service record and the things she'd seen over said career. Nonetheless, this was like nothing she'd ever felt before, and that raised all sorts of alarms in her head.

Grimacing in exertion, she pulled herself to her full height and, with some trouble, brought up her assault rifle to bear as she gazed down towards the throne.

Truly, the fiberscope had done it no justice.

It was, she supposed, a work of artistic craftsmanship. Completely ebony in colour, it stood maybe 1.9 meters tall in total—far more than necessary in terms of back-height. What surprised her the most, however, was not the amazing craftsmanship, but rather the fact that, despite what her fiberscope had transmitted, it was very much occupied.

Occupied by a man who, even from where she stood, she could tell was incredibly handsome, if a bit gaunt. Dark hair loosely hung down his face, which seemed at rest, given the closed eyes. His robes were just as black as the throne, and it was in fact quite hard to discern where he ended and where the throne began. Yet, despite the very obvious fact that the person occupying the throne was resting, she immediately recognized that he was the source of that overwhelming evil pressure. Given his presence on the throne, she didn't need to be a rocket scientist to rationalize exactly who he was.

"Oh, fuck me," she whispered incredulously.

It would be so easy, she realized. So easy just to lift her gun, aim at the bastard's head, and end this war with one shot. He didn't even seem conscious. Besides, how many of her friends and family had died at the hands of this monster's former followers? How many of her former squad were probably dead on the battlefield outside because of him?

A whimper broke through her building anger, and she turned to see Snap still recoiling from the sight of the Dark Lord himself—probably as a result of the overpowering aura of sheer evil he was subconsciously emitting.

"Pull yourself together, Snap, he's asleep!" she hissed at her comrade. "Come on, we've got to get the VIP and then get the hell out of here before his Evilness wakes up!"

Snap shook her head violently—her instincts completely overriding her training—and Vicky immediately recognized that there was nothing for it; she would have to carry out the mission by herself from this point on. Growling, she picked up Snap's assault rifle and shoved it into her comrade's chest, forcing her to grab it in shock.

"Fine. Cover me, at least. If that son of a bitch wakes up, I want you to empty your entire magazine into his goddamn body, got it?" she told Snap, her tone brooking no argument.

Apparently, it worked, given Snap's stiff nod. Maybe the way she had spoken had ignited her trained instincts once again. Whatever the reason was, however, Snap was now holding her weapon up high, ready to carry out her orders at the slightest twitch from the slumbering Dark Lord.

Satisfied that she was now adequately covered, Vicky slowly made her way up the room by hugging the left-hand table, her weapon also trained on the Dark Lord's slumbering form. She quickly noticed the fact that as she approached the throne, the overpowering feeling of evil slowly intensified. By the time she had come within ten feet of the throne, she was sweating bullets, and her limbs were shaking more and more violently.

'Shit!' she thought. 'At this rate, getting to the VIP is going to be fucking impossible!'

Trying to think through the overwhelming feeling, she thought up several scenarios of how best to proceed. Getting to the VIP proper by herself was just not going to happen, she now realized, so she needed an alternative route to the back of the room. Glancing towards the sides of the room, she was relieved to see that there were two doors that led out of the Great Hall, besides the double doors that they had gone in, that is. Glancing to her right, she also saw that the windows that looked outside could be used to breach into the room from outside, but she didn't know of any units that could do any such operation—all of them were either at the second gate or waiting in reserve behind said gate. None of them had rappelling gear, either, or even a way up onto the roof.

Shit.

She activated her comm. "Vlad, this is Bolt, we may have a problem."

Her superior's response was immediate. "Vlad here, what's up, Bolt?"

"Snap and I are in the Great Hall—which, by the way, is now a throne room—and we think we might have the VIP…plus someone extra, over."

"Now's not the time to play hero, Bolt—just get the VIP and get back here ASAP."

Instinctively, Vicky shook her head. "Negative, sir—it's not a hostage. If I'm right, we've got ourselves a Code Tango Romeo, over," she corrected him, eyes still trained on the dormant figure of the Empire's current worst enemy.

Predictably, the comm line stayed silent for a good while before Vlad responded.

"Are you certain?" his tone was dead serious and fully professional.

Vicky gave the dormant figure a once-over. "Well, I've never seen him in my life, but he's sitting on the throne—asleep, mind you—and has a passing resemblance to the Duke of Halifax," she relayed, finding it somewhat surprising as well that Tom Riddle and the Duke had such physical similarities.

"That's him," confirmed Vlad. "Shit. This is bad. What's your status?"

"My status, sir, is that the sleeping bastard has both me and Snap caught in some sort of overpowering field. I'm barely twenty feet away and it feels like the whole fucking sky is leaning on my back," she told him bluntly. "Snap's worse off—she's practically by the door and can't move forward."

"Sorry, Vlad," Snap's voice cut in then. The Quebecker woman truly sounded apologetic.

"It's alright, Snap. Bolt, how far are you from the VIP?"

Vicky did some quick math in her head. "Maybe thirty feet."

"Can you get to him?"

"Negative, sir. Any further and my guess is I'll be out like a light."

"Fuck," came Vlad's response. "Any other way towards the VIP?"

"That's the good news, sir. I've sighted two entryways at the very back of the room, to the sides. Looks to lead to the rest of the castle. Also, the high windows in this place could serve as breach entry points."

The comm went out again as Vlad undoubtedly thought things through.

"Bolt, that's a negative on the windows—don't have the manpower for it, or the equipment. Also, if my memory serves correctly, the left-hand door would mean coming into a corridor near where Tank and I are—which means…"

"…that it's probably infested with enemy troops. Copy that, sir."

"…right. Anyway, the right-hand door, I'm more familiar with. Unless Riddle's spent his time here remodelling the castle, it should lead to a staff room that's accessible via the right-hand corridor that leads to the Great Hall. Given the fact that every fucking enemy trooper this side of the second gate seems to be intent on overwhelming Tank and I, I think it should be pretty deserted. If it's not, use silencers and keep the overall noise to a minimum. Do not, I repeat, do not engage Riddle."

"Sir, we could end this right now."

"Bolt, don't make me repeat myself—do not engage Riddle. We have no intel on what sort of protections he might have placed on himself, and I do not need the entire castle alerted to your presence. Get the VIP and get back here; that's an order."

Vicky grit her teeth, but conceded the point. "Roger that; please confirm: you want us to flank the room and come in from behind?" she asked.

"Confirmed, Bolt. Good luck."

"Thanks," she stated simply before turning off her mike and turning to face Snap. With a raised hand, she made a circular sign followed by a movement towards the door. Snap nodded, but stayed where she was and kept her rifle trained on Riddle's form while Vicky made her way back to the doors.

The trip back was obviously a lot easier than the trip forward, and she was soon at Snap's side, tapping her teammate on the shoulder. Vicky expected her to move back with her, so she was surprised when her teammate did not do so, instead keeping her ready stance completely firm.

Vicky looked back at her teammate in confusion. "Snap?"

"We're just leaving him here like that?" she asked, clearly meaning Riddle. "Alive?" she elaborated.

Vicky understood where Snap was coming from, but she also knew that her orders had decided the situation for her. "We have orders, Snap. Don't do it."

"We could end this war, Bolt. Here, now."

Vicky patted her teammates shoulder. "Michelle," she said, breaking squad protocol for the sake of defusing this situation, "he could be protected by gods know what sort of enchantments, that bullet might not even kill him even if you hit him, and we could alert every enemy unit in this damn castle to our presence,"

"We could still end it—you said so yourself to Vlad, Vicky," insisted Snap. "This…monster is what caused all this—why our friends…our families…" she shook with an involuntary sob, which Vicky could empathize with.

Vicky's pat turned into a comforting squeeze.

"We can grieve properly later, Michelle," she said softly. "For now, let's get our target out of here and then we can focus on riddling that bastard's body full of holes."

"…Fine," Snap finally agreed, lowering her weapon. She took a tentative step back, following Vicky's lead, and then turned fully and followed her superior out of the room at a trot.

The two quickly made their way down the corridor to their left as they left the Great Hall, their boots softly clicking against the ground as they trotted their way to the hall's hard corner. Again pressed against the wall, they peered to over and quickly scouted out the hallway. Two guards, who seemed to be golems from the stiff and absolutely still posture. Thankfully, they were looking away from them.

Looking back at Snap, Vicky made a screwing motion with her free hand and smiled when her partner nodded and brought out the silencers from her pack. Quickly setting them on the rifle muzzles, the two women debated how best to take out the two guards.

"I take left, you take right?" asked Vicky.

"Sounds good to me, Bolt," came Snap's reply.

Vicky nodded. "On three, then."

The two tensed as they brought up their weapons, hugging the wall still, and slowly and quietly stepped out from behind cover, kneeled, and took aim. Through the voice communicator—and highly grateful that their helmets muffled out all internal sound—Vicky started the countdown. "Three…"

"Two…"

"One…"

Two zipping sounds rang out as their rifles bucked, and their two targets had their heads visibly explode from the hollow-point bullets.

"Targets down," Vicky said unnecessarily. "Moving on."

The two women trotted down the corridor, passing the two corpses without a glance and quickly making their way through the lighted corridor.

"Door to the left," Vicky pointed out. "Should be our target."

"Breach?" asked Snap.

"No. Shouldn't be any need. If it's locked, we shoot our way in."

"Roger that."

As luck would have it, the door was unlocked, much to their relief. Vicky had her hand on the handle and Snap was covering her by sweeping their surroundings with her rifle.

"Ready?" asked Vicky.

"Yep—hit it."

Vicky jerked the handle down and pushed, clearing the way for them to get back into the Great Hall from the side. Instantly, the two felt the pressure of Riddle's presence hit them again, and it was all Snap could do not to collapse right there and then. Vicky noticed it immediately and, though she was also hard pressed to keep standing, it wasn't as bad as with Snap.

"You keep an eye on the hallway—I'll get the VIP," she stated imperiously.

"You sure?" asked Snap, who was breathing heavily.

"Yeah. I can handle this pressure better, and I should be fine if I keep hugging the wall."

"Alright. I've got your back."

Vicky smiled in her helmet. "Thanks."

Vicky, true to her word, took a step into the room and then smashed herself against the far wall, keeping as much of her frame as physically possible close to the wall so as to lessen the astronomical effects of Riddle's mere presence. It was absolutely insane how much power that man radiated, even in his sleep.

Shuffling her way sideways, Vicky was reminded of a particular mission a couple of years back, when she and her fireteam from her former Company had been ordered to scout ahead of an offensive in the Rockies. She had been forced to sidle her way across a mountainside, with about maybe a foot wide of earth at her feet for grounding. Beyond that was a chasm that led to inevitable death. Of course, it wasn't exactly the same thing now, but the principle was the same, she supposed.

Vicky neared the place she knew the VIP to be and quickly shifted her visor view to thermal imaging. Instantly, her view of the room switched to a myriad of colours. Yet, clear as day, she could now see the figure of the VIP tied to the chair a few feet away from her. He—the vague musculature of the figure seemed to indicate a male person—was slumped over, and she assumed he was probably unconscious; undoubtedly as a result of the constant pressure radiating from Riddle.

"VIP is slumped over—seems to be unconscious at this time," she said into her mike.

"Roger that, Bolt. That's not important. Just get him out of there any way you can."

Vicky smirked at Vlad's order. It wasn't unusual for VIPs to sometimes get uncooperative, and while officers generally told their soldiers to go easy on their charges, there were times that soldiers wished they could just sock their charges one if they got uncooperative.

Slowly, she sidled up to the slumped figure, completely passing right through the invisibility field, and groped around for a clear grasp on the figure's clothing. Well, at least, she hoped he was clothed. For all she knew, Riddle was a sick bastard who got off on seeing his enemies naked.

Finally, she managed to grab a hold of a cloth-like texture, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She really didn't want to be carrying around a naked man—that was a privilege she reserved for the one-night stands she had every time she was off duty.

"I have a hold of the VIP," she announced over the comm, and she could hear Snap's immediate sigh of relief.

"Thank god," whispered the Quebecker member of the team.

"Cutting the restraints now," she continued, narrating as she acted. It had taken some semi-blind groping, but she had found the ropes that tied the figure to the chair and, with great care, she had then proceeded to cut them with her combat knife. "Restraints are off—proceeding to extracting VIP from the throne room."

"Can we kill Riddle now?" asked Snap with a slightly whiny tone.

Vicky could have sworn she heard a chuckle over the comm.

"Negative, Snap. Riddle's being saved for His Grace. More of a beatdown, that way."

Vlad's response at least got a giggle out of Snap, though it sounded a little subdued.

It took some effort, and for the most part Vicky had to carry the VIP, but they soon made it to the door, where Snap took one of the man's arms and slung it on the back of her neck.

She could practically feel the rise of her partner's eyebrow.

"I never thought our VIP would be a coffin-dodger," Snap remarked sardonically. "What is he? Ten thousand?"

"He could be fucking Adam of Eden, Snap, and I wouldn't care," growled Vicky. "Let's get this bastard out of here and get back in the proper fight, yeah?"

"Copy that, Bolt. Make your way here as quick as possible and we'll cover our escape."

Vicky gave a positive grunt into her mike in response to Vlad's order and with a nod of her head, she and Snap quickened their pace. Thanks to their physical conditioning, the old man's weight barely bogged them down as they got their speed up to a quick march. It wasn't long before they could hear the obnoxious sound of Tank's L2A1 machine gun. Vicky was personally surprised that their charge hadn't yet woken up due to the racket.

Before long, they had turned the corner and could now see their makeshift barricade, where Tank and Vlad were both doing their utmost best to turn the section of hallway beyond their blockade into hell on earth. Tank's frame was shaking ever so imperceptibly from the recoil of the large machine gun, but its steady rate of fire and catastrophic damage was shredding the waves of golems assaulting their position into pieces. Heck, Vicky could see the bodies of torn down golems littering the hallway to the point where the ground stone cobble work could not longer be seen. Absently, she wondered just how many ammunition belts had already been consumed by the large weapon.

"Vlad, we're on your six and moving up," she warned over the comm, hoping to avoid getting shot by their no-doubt tensed up comrades.

Predictably, she saw Vlad stop firing only to check the veracity of her words and then nodded at her before returning to his shooting. "Roger that, Bolt. Extract the VIP via the secret passage. We'll provide covering fire."

"Wilco, Vlad. What about you two?" she asked even as nodded to Snap and moved towards the hallway that led to said secret passage.

"Set up C4 charges in the tunnel and pass over the detonation command to me. When Tank and I get out, I'll blow the whole place sky-high."

"Wilco. Out."

Vicky, Snap, and their charge moved quickly down the side hallway that Tank and Vlad were both protecting with their barricade. Predictably, it seemed as though everything was quiet on this end, so she supposed that the enemy hadn't yet managed to dig their way through the debris caused by their hastily-performed demolitions work near the passage entrance. When they had first arrived, they had almost instantly been caught by a patrol and, though they killed them, the noise of their weaponry had alerted the rest of the castle garrison. Thus, in order to make the enemy's life a lot harder, Vlad had ordered C4 on the castle walls and detonated them, thus causing a cave in the hallway and sealing that particular way to their exit.

It took them ten minutes this time to reach the passage opening—it had taken five to get to where they had set up the barricade initially—and by then, Vicky was getting sick and tired of hauling crippled old men. Fortunately, the exit was now in sight.

"Vlad, exit is in sight. Suggest you start getting ready to move out," she warned over the comm.

"Copy that, Bolt. We'll get ready to close shop in five. Is that enough?"

Vicky did some quick mental math and glanced at Snap, opening a private comm channel. "Snap, think you can carry the old man the rest of the way while I set up the charges?"

She saw her partner nod and smiled. She returned her comm frequency to the team's channel. "Affirmative, Vlad. See you in five."

Vicky and Snap dragged their charge into the tunnel's entrance and quickly made their way down towards the middle of the passage, where they stopped and Vicky helped Snap shift the old man's weakened frame onto her back. It took Snap dropping her sniper rifle and using its strap to tie the old man to her waist, but once they were done, Vicky gave her a thumbs up and a pat on the back. Without needing further prompting, the Quebecker of the group was off, jogging as best she could down the tunnel until she was out of sight after she made a sudden turn to the left.

Left to her own devices, Vicky quickly got to work, digging into her pack and setting up the charges all around the tunnel walls. Thankfully, she had been less heavily hit on her C4 reserves than the rest of the team, and so she had enough to line up three pieces of C4 next to each other on either side of the wall, as well as two more on the ceiling, which was thankfully barely taller than an average human being—which had initially made it difficult for Tank to move in without hunching down.

Immediately after she was done, she activated her comm. "Vlad, this is Bolt—goodbye package is ready, over."

She heard a chuckled through the radio. "Roger that, Bolt. We're already on our way. Transmit activation command to my helmet, over."

Without further prompting, she did exactly that. "Computer," she said imperiously. "Transmit C4 Detonation Code Alpha, Alpha, Echo, Niner, Five to Atmospheric Drop Shock Trooper Corporal Viktor Krum immediately."

She watched as a progress bar blinked into existence on her visor screen, a green box quickly filling itself up as the information was sent as per her orders. Within seconds, the command initiative had been sent, and a confirmation box had also blinked into existence. With a mere grunt, it disappeared and she, after grabbing Snap's precious sniper rifle, turned and waited for her remaining teammates to show up.

She needn't have waited long. Soon enough, the obnoxious sound of Tank's L2A1 assaulted her ears, and she could see Vlad barrelling down her way, only occasionally turning around to open fire on the enemy at his back, while Tank was basically walking backwards, his machine gun never once stopping its steady rate of fire.

"Got your codes, Bolt," said Vlad the moment he was basically right in front of her. "Get yourself out of here—Tank and I have this," he ordered.

Vicky nodded, glad to see her comrades at least alive, and turned to leave, her pace steady as she jogged her way down the tunnel system that led out of the castle and towards the cliff. Within seconds, Vlad came back online.

"This is Vlad, we've set the charges to detonate in thirty seconds and are on our way. I say again, charges are set to blow."

Vicky turned up the speed on her escape, now outright sprinting as she took harsh corners and made her way through the darkness—only capable of seeing where she was due to her helmet's inbuilt night-vision capabilities. When a glare first showed up on her visor, then steadily grew to blinding proportions, she knew she had reached the end, and quickly turned the night vision mode off.

Five seconds left, she realized as she went out the cavern that General Longbottom had used to rest his troops. She could hear the sound of massive gunfire and explosions already. She was up the stairs to get onto the cliff, however, when the ground shook mightily, and her grip on the ground slipped away, causing her to stumble. Unfortunately, the shaking was so bad that, before she knew it, she was already halfway over the edge.

"FUCK!" she screamed as she finally realized her predicament, her vision slowing down as she fell backwards, her arms outstretched to her front in a futile attempt to get a grip on something to prevent the fatal fall.

She had just about gone into a panic state of denial when she finally felt her body suddenly stop in its fall, causing her head to bob up and down and a sting of unbelievable pain race down her left arm, which was being pulled upwards.

"Jesus Christ!" she swore loudly, unknowingly activating the external microphone.

She heard a chuckle coming from above her. Looking up, she saw her forearm being gripped by a single, brown-gloved hand, stylish, black robes obscuring the rest of the figure's arm. She couldn't quite get a look at said person, either, considering the effects of the sunlight's glare on her vision.

"You alright?" she heard a female voice—which she assumed belonged to her rescuer.

"Oh, you know, just hanging out," Vicky couldn't help but snap off sarcastically. "A little help, please?"

She felt the person guffaw, given by the shake in her pained arm, before she then felt herself get pulled upwards. Having shaken off her near-miss, Vicky helped out by grabbing onto the side of the cliff and pushing herself up as well until she could get a grasp on the ground with her right hand. At that point, she felt the stranger's hand grab onto her back and pull upwards, quickening Vicky's rescue.

Almost as quickly as it had started, Vicky was now safe and sound, leaning against the side of the cliff path to the cavern she had escaped, and was breathing heavily. Her arm was probably dislocated, she realized, but that was better than outright dead. She looked up at her rescuer, who was indeed wearing black robes, although she could now make out the silver strands here and there and reddish colouration around the middle of her rescuer's leg area. The vambraces themselves were seemingly made out of silver—though Vicky knew better than to assume as such—and the belt that held everything together seemed to be made of gold—though, again, better not to assume as such. Besides these two pieces of equipment, however, only a shoulder guard on her rescuer's right shoulder seemed to offer any sort of armoured protection, which confused Vicky to no end. What was this person doing dressed like this in the middle of a freaking battlefield?!

"Thanks," she said regardless of her misgivings. It was appropriate—the woman had saved her.

The robed figure seemed amused—at least, so Vicky gathered, given the fact that all she could see underneath the black and silver cowl was the woman's curved rosy lips.

"No problem, Corporal," said her rescuer. "I was in the neighbourhood, and I couldn't very well let an ally fall to their death, now could I?"

"Thanks anyway," Vicky repeated, only to have Vlad and Tank suddenly enter into her peripheral vision. "Hey boss, Tank."

Vlad's head suddenly turned towards her at her greeting, and she could just imagine the shocked look on his face past his impenetrable visor. "Bolt? What the hell are you doing here? Why aren't you with Snap?"

"Fell off the cliff," she said with a grimace; not that facial expressions were easily transmitted via the polarized visors.

"Fell off the what?" asked/yelled Tank.

Vicky nudged her head towards her rescuer, who had remained silent throughout the very short dialogue. "She saved me just as I was about to become intimate with Newton's law of gravity."

The woman smiled underneath her hood, bowing her head slightly in Vlad's direction. "It was nothing," she said graciously. "Though I had no idea you were involved in this operation, Viktor," she suddenly added.

"How—?" Vlad started to ask, before something seemed to click in his mind, for he quickly scrambled to take off his helmet, revealing his rugged, Slavic face. "Surely not! Lovely Guinevere?" he asked incredulously.

The woman flinched slightly, a small grimace on her face as he called her that. "You know I asked you to stop calling me that in 1994, Viktor," the woman complained.

Vlad's rugged face was suddenly—and strangely, in Vicky's opinion—lit up by a boyish smile as he dropped his combat helmet and rushed to hug the robed woman, who laughed as she returned the hug—albeit more gently.

"Guinevere?" Tank asked, confused. "Wait, you don't mean…?"

Just as Tank seemed to get hit by that realization, so did it cross Vicky's mind, and the veteran soldier raised her eyes to goggle at the robed figure.

"No fucking way…" she breathed.

Vlad let go of the hug and instead turned so that he was beside the woman, smiling from ear to ear. "Lads, this here is Ginny Potter, the Duchess of Halifax herself!"

The woman—or Ginny, as the two soldiers had just found out—smiled graciously. "It is my honour to meet more of the Empire's brave soldiers," she said modestly, tipping her head in greeting.

The reactions to the Duchess' greeting was varied. Vlad laughed, Tank bowed from the waist until his body formed a perfect perpendicular angle, and Vicky scrambled to her feet so quickly that she slipped and fell right back on her buttocks.

All of it served to elicit an amused giggle from the Duchess, which seemed to set Vlad off for another round of boisterous laughing. That was surprising in itself—Vicky had never imagined that Vlad could ever laugh the way he was doing so now. He had always seemed so straight-laced and grim, with only glimmers of humour ever showing through the staunch, Slavic face.

The Duchess waved her hand dismissively at the squad's antics. "Now, now," she playfully chastised. "There's no need for all that pomp and ceremony on the battlefield. Whatever we are off the fields of war, here we are brothers and sisters, as my husband would say."

Vicky said nothing. To be fair, what could she possibly say that would measure up to the sort of conversation the Duchess was usually party to? This was the bloody Duchess of Halifax, for goodness' sake! Technically, the third or fourth most powerful person in the Empire, she was mythical in her own right as the Empire's silent blade; the Empire's fixer, so to speak.

In her thoughts, Vicky had missed the start of a conversation between Vlad and the Duchess.

"…so I stood guard here, waiting; as ordered," she explained with a smile from under her hood. "I hope you're not too offended about this, Viktor?"

Vlad was nodding. "Never, my dear!" he assured her. "I'm just surprised that they would take you away from your battlefield duties to play bodyguard."

The Duchess shrugged. "There's good reason to fear that some of Riddle's top lieutenants might try to interfere with the prisoner transport. Especially Narcissa Malfoy," she added for good measure.

Vlad looked confused. "Why especially her?" he asked. "To be honest, I was surprised to even see her name on our secondary objective list. Wasn't she that blonde haired ponce at Hogwarts' mother? The aristocratic one?"

The Duchess nodded. "That's the one," she confirmed. "Between you and me, I think Riddle's been experimenting on his human lieutenants," she added in a hushed whisper, though Vicky was barely able to hear it.

Vlad brought his head closer to the Duchess'. "What do you mean?" he asked quietly.

The Duchess turned her eyes towards Vicky, but the soldier's polarized visor prevented her from knowing that the soldier was staring right at her. The Duchess' glance lingered for a few seconds before it turned back to Vlad, apparently either satisfied that Vicky wasn't eavesdropping, or not caring.

"I fought Malfoy yesterday," she confided. "There's no way she learned to fight like that in the five months we spent massing our forces for this attack," she said seriously. "Not without magical or genetic tampering. Or both."

Vlad nodded. "Right. So if we see the lady Malfoy, we run like hell—is that it?" he asked semi-jocularly.

Vicky didn't know how, but she somehow knew that the Duchess' eyes had sharpened reprovingly. "Don't joke about this Viktor," she chastised. "Malfoy's as dangerous as they come. When I fought her, we ended in a draw. Realistically speaking, she's as good as I am, perhaps a bit better."

Vicky heard Vlad whistle in amazement, and to be honest, she felt like doing the same. While the Duchess was by no means her husband's equal in terms of war reputation, she was still one of the Empire's finest warriors—much more lethal than she herself was or even her entire squad put together. To think that there was someone just as powerful, or perhaps even a little more powerful, on the enemy side made Vicky's stomach churn. As if their job wasn't hard enough with the enemy they currently had.

Meanwhile, Vlad and the Duchess seemed to be wrapping up their little reunion.

"Well, it's been fun, Viktor, but I'm afraid I have to go. Got to keep an eye on the old man, after all," said the Duchess with a smile.

Vlad smiled right back—which Vicky still found odd on his face. "I understand. We should get to our remaining teammate too," he agreed, turning to look at Vicky. "Where's Tank?"

Vicky shrugged. "Went ahead."

"And yourself?" he asked, with a raised eyebrow.

Vicky, unbeknownst to the two, rolled her eyes. "I just avoided death by gravity, sir. My legs refuse to move," she said sarcastically.

She saw Vlad roll his eyes, though the Duchess put up a hand to her mouth and turned away, her shoulders shaking slightly in laughter. Quickly, however, she managed to rally herself and put a gentle hand on Vlad's shoulder.

"It's alright, Viktor. Let her rest for a few minutes," the Duchess said with a smile. "After what you and your team pulled off, I dare say you all deserve a little rest."

Vlad sighed in defeat. "Fine, fine," he conceded, giving Vicky a stern look. "You've got five minutes, Bolt. After that, we're rallying at the extraction point, understood?"

Vicky nodded once, which Vlad returned. "Good. See you in five, then."

With that, Vlad and the Duchess turned and walked up the path towards the topside of the cliff, still chatting like long-lost friends. Left to her own devices, Vicky let her helmeted head fall against the earth behind her with a dull thud. Her close call had truly shaken her—that was no lie. That being said, however, she had already regained control of her limbs, but a sudden lethargy had prevented her from mustering up the energy she needed to get up and get back to work. She had felt ashamed of this, and so had opted to lie to her superior instead—a first in her military career.

Vicky had a good idea why her limbs had just suddenly decided not to work. Even if she could mentally reconcile herself with the idea that she had nearly died—and quite possibly in the most humiliating way possible for a soldier—she knew that her body had not yet caught up with her mental processes. The fall had already caused her to lose her assault rifle, which left her with only a pistol to fight with, and she knew that it wouldn't do much good unless the enemy was well closer than she hoped they'd be. So, in a sense, her body was subconsciously reacting to her current feelings of total impotence. She was no good as a soldier, and thus her body's primal instincts of survival rejected her mental desire to go help her team.

All in all, a real problem.

Vicky grimaced. She had to get up, she knew, but her body was just not making things any simpler. Absently, she turned her head and considered using the earthen wall behind her to claw her way onto her feet, though that left the question of actual movement up the path. Would she end up clawing her way up the path?

It wasn't sudden, but rather gradual that she began to feel her legs responding to her commands again. Maybe her determination had crushed her primal instincts of flight and safety. Whatever the reason was, Vicky was glad to be fully in control of her own body once again. Slowly getting to her feet—she didn't want to risk another relapse—she simultaneously drew his government-issued pistol, a brand new model created by W&W ironically called the Pixie A735 due to its size. There was nothing cute about this pistol, however—it had about double the firepower of a long-barrelled magnum at about half the size.

Absently flicking off the safety, she trotted up the path, pistol held down as proper precaution dictated. Up on top of the cliff, she saw more of her fellow ADSTs gathered behind the gate, seemingly waiting for something. She soon found out, as a group of more ADSTs trotted down the stairs and some of those at the bottom went up to replace them. Apparently, Longbottom had established a rotational system, which impressed Vicky. Most people would just put all their troops on top of the gate and have them fire en masse.

The gate wasn't her problem, however, and so she jogged away from it, towards where she saw her team standing guard over the crumpled body of the VIP they'd retrieved from Hogwarts Castle, the Duchess leaning against a nearby tree, her arms and legs crossed as she waited for something to happen.

With the wards down, Vicky knew what that something was—the extraction shuttle. Not the same type as the ones that brought down troops, however—these particular shuttles were rectangular, Spartan in design, and were bulky enough to take several hits from enemy dragons and weaponry before they exploded. The reason they weren't mass produced for troop deployment was a simple matter of economics. Rich though the government was, they could seldom afford making the best of everything and just dumping it on their troops. That would just bankrupt the state in record time. Hell, the Airships themselves were a massive money sink.

Vlad was the first to notice her, and waved her over. Within seconds she was back with her team.

"Glad to see your legs decided to work again, Bolt," teased Snap.

Vicky would have glared at her friend if she knew Snap could see it through her visor. As it was, she couldn't, so Vicky didn't bother and went straight into sarcasm. "You try falling off a cliff and having perfect motor control," she shot back.

Tank chuckled at Vicky's riposte while Snap snickered. Vlad was the only one seemingly unmoved, though the twitch at the corner of his lips seemed to indicate some amusement.

Vicky ignored all this, preferring to keep her mind on the mission. "Transport on its way?" she asked promptly.

Vlad nodded. "ETA five minutes," he relayed.

Vicky nodded back. "Any chance it'll be a bumpy ride?" she asked.

A smirk. "Maybe. The enemy's dragons have been in the air this entire time, duking it out with the flyboys. One more ship in the air might make for another target, or it may be inconsequential for them."

Vicky nodded. She didn't feel comfortable with going up into the midst of a pitched air battle, but she knew her duty was to stand by her team as guards to for the VIP, who only just now seemed to be regaining some colour.

"He's looking better," she noted, commenting on the same.

Snap nodded. "He must've been in the presence of that bastard Riddle for hours. At that distance, it's not surprising he's been knocked unconscious," she said flatly.

Vicky nodded in agreement, her eyes still taking in the sight of the unconscious VIP. She still couldn't believe that the man they had been sent out to get within the confines of the enemy headquarters was a coffin-dodger, though. Seriously, she had expected some middle-aged man, at worst, with confidential information of some kind. Instead, they got the last remaining survivor of the Victorian era. Not even the late Victorian era, either—more like the mid-Victorian era. Which, while it said something about magi longevity, also said a lot about how useful Vicky thought these post-centenarians would be.

A rumble in the distance caught Vicky's attention, causing her to lift her head to look up towards the sky. As Vlad had predicted, the transport shuttle for the prisoner extraction was coming in, and quite fast at that. Not so fast that she was alarmed by it, but enough to tell her that they were in a hurry to get out of the sky.

"They're in a hurry," noted Tank with some underlying concern.

"Air battle must be just as pitched as the one down here," replied Vlad, putting his helmet on as the shuttle began to touch ground. Immediately, his communicator went online. "Alright, ladies and gents, we are Oscar Mike! Go, go, go!" he ordered via the comm as the shuttle finally stopped its descent and opened the rear ramp. "Tank, you grab the VIP!"

"Roger that, Vlad!" With a grunt, Tank's large frame bent over and slung the old man over his shoulder, trotting towards the shuttle without much trouble. "Alright, I got him!"

Vlad nodded before turning to Snap and Vicky. "You two, rearguard. Once Tank and I are onboard, you get in, copy?"

Vicky and Snap nodded. "Copy that, Vlad. We'll be right behind you."

Vlad nodded again before turning and covering Tank as they moved towards the ramp. From the corner of her eyes, Vicky also saw that the Duchess had stopped leaning against the tree, instead favouring a completely still, standing pose, her head bowed. It kind of looked like she was in prayer, to be honest.

It didn't take long before Tank and Vlad were inside the shuttle and the word came for her and Snap to move into the ship as well. Tapping Snap on the shoulder, Vicky rose up from a kneeling position and started to walk backwards towards the ramp, her pistol still aimed to her front in case some enemy suddenly jumped out of nowhere and tried something. She sighed in relief when she felt her boot hit the metal ramp, and turned to quickly jog the remaining two meters into the hollow compartment where Tank, Vlad, and their VIP were. Seconds after, Snap followed, her rifle still pointed towards the outside of the ship, just in case. Once inside, she bumped her fist against the wall three times, her combat gloves banging against the metal loudly.

"All clear!" she reported for good measure.

"What about the Duchess?" asked Vicky as she turned to Vlad. As far as she could see, the Duchess was still outside, standing by the tree.

Vlad shook his head. "She'll join us once we've got a few feet between the ship and the ground," he told her. "Just in case some nasty surprise is waiting for us to get airborne."

Vicky accepted the explanation without protest, choosing to sit near the rear of the transport, in case the Duchess needed any help—not that she expected the woman to need any, given her superior abilities. Across from her, Snap had taken a seat as well, her assault rifle on her lap, her finger parallel to the trigger loop.

The subtle rumbling of the transport ship was all the indication that Vicky had that they were moving—well, that and the scenery outside, which was only visible to her due to the ramp being down. Out of curiosity, she stood from her seat, despite knowing full well that the ship was still in motion, hooked herself up to a safety line that held her to a rail overhead, and took a few steps towards the ramp, looking down as her view of the Duchess became slowly occluded by the ramp's presence.

"Hey, hey," warned Snap from her own seat. "don't get too close to the edge, Bolt. We're still in the middle of a warzone, remember?"

Bolt shrugged visibly. "Just taking a quick looksie," she reassured her teammate, who shook her head in mock exasperation and leaned back against the wall, trying to make herself comfortable—vain attempt though it was, considering the metallic bulkhead.

For her part, Vicky had leaned her frame over the ramp far enough that she could see the Duchess looking up at the transport with what seemed to be a smile under that black hood of hers. It was barely noticeable, but the loose strands of red hair that escaped her hood made for sufficient contrast for her to discern it.

It was gone as quickly as it she had seen it, however.

In a moment, the black-robed figure of the Duchess was violently tossed aside as a blur rocketed straight through her and, in a seemingly impossible feat of human muscular power, jumped up towards the already 20-meter high transport.

It took less than a split second for Vicky to realize that they were under attack. She quickly turned her head to warn her teammates and yelled, "CONTACT!"

Then darkness overtook her as she felt something metallic painfully pierce her chest armour and penetrate her skin.

Viktor Krum hadn't been one of the most famous Seekers in Quidditch history for nothing. Immediately after his teammate had sounded the alarm, he had turned, rifle ready, and had been about to fire off a few rounds when he saw his newest teammate crumple to the floor—kept on the transport only by virtue of the safety line she had attached herself to.

Instinct, drilled in by years of training, kicked in. "MAN DOWN!" he roared before firing off rounds at the dark figure that loomed over Bolt's still form.

To his utter amazement, the bullets stopped in mid air the moment the figure raised a hand in a halting fashion. With a snap, the bullets they fell to the ground, their momentum completely dissipated.

"Oh, fuck me!" he hissed, loosening another round at their boarder. By now, Snap and Tank had also snapped out of their shock and simulated their section leader,

The hail of bullets seemed unstoppable to the three remaining members of the First Company section, but somehow, that meant nothing to their enemy. With another couple hand gestures, the same fate that Viktor's previous hail of bullets had suffered repeated itself on their new barrage.

And, just like that, Snap was on the ground, a pool of blood flowing from her pierced abdomen. Unlike Bolt, however, Snap did not give in to the darkness, and screamed for all she was worth as she writhed on the floor in pain.

"MICHELLE!" roared Tank in fury as he watched her fall to the ground. With a furious cry, he launched himself forward towards their assailant, completely blocking Viktor's sights as the team leader tried to launch another burst.

"Damnit, Tank, stop!" he shouted angrily. "Fuck!"

Indeed, just as Viktor had predicted would happen, Tank's large frame—about twice the size of their attacker—was casually smashed into the side of the transport, causing the whole ship to wobble in the air due to the force. Thankfully, none of Viktor's unconscious teammates were thrown out of the open back as a result.

Viktor was sweating bullets inside his helmet, whose visor was practically going crazy with red flashes as it announced, over and over again, that his teammates were being taken out. Even worse, he had a good idea of who this person was.

"Fancy seeing you all the way up here, Mrs. Malfoy," he said sarcastically, his rifle still held up high, despite knowing how useless it would be against the blonde former aristocrat.

He heard the figure scoff irritably. "I see that redheaded slut opened her gob," she said nastily as she slowly took a step forward, which was welcomed by a burst of bullets that she easily negated.

"She might have mentioned how incompetent you are," riposted Viktor, obviously riling her up now, as Ginny had never done any such thing. Trash-talking might not have been the wisest of his planned moves, but he figured he was screwed anyway, so…

In any case, it seemed like the jibe worked, seeing how Narcissa was now snarling underneath her red-lined onyx-coloured hood. It struck Viktor that both she and Ginny were wearing almost identical garments, but he didn't know whether that was on purpose or just coincidental. Regardless, what he did know was that it heralded his death, if he didn't play his cards right.

Fortunately, the old man was safely tucked behind the seven-inch steel door behind him, in a holding cell between the pilots' cabin and the rear.

"I'm guessing you're here for the old man?" he asked a bit too casually, obviously trying to buy himself some time while he thought of a way out of this predicament.

Whatever the reason, Narcissa seemed willing to play along and shot him a nasty smirk. "That's right. He's the master's most precious guest, after all, and his hasty departure—without a single goodbye—was really downright rude."

Unfortunately, the haughty, if completely understandable statement was somewhat ruined in its genuineness by the snikt sound of her two retractable blades shooting out from within her sleeves. Obviously, she had no intention of letting him go.

Making a split-second decision, Viktor threw his assault rifle at Narcissa and flicked his left wrist, causing a slender wooden instrument to shoot out into his awaiting hand—his wand.

Soldier of the Empire he was without a doubt; but before that he'd been an accomplished magus.

"Sectumsempra!" he cried out, instantly releasing a jet of magic that rushed towards Narcissa.

Only she wasn't there anymore.

Before Viktor had a chance to realize what had just happened, his vision was suddenly filled with crimson as a searing pain shot through his chest.

Thrown back by the impact of Narcissa's blades, he realizes only as he touched ground that the blonde woman had slashed him across the chest with both blades. For all intents and purposes, he was out of this fight.

"F…" he tried to speak, but the pain in his chest was too great. "Fuck…"

He heard Narcissa tsk from her standing position in front of his sitting body.

"Such a nasty little mouth," she reprimanded him sadistically. "Though I guess that's what happens when one renounces their honoured legacy in favour of that arrogant whore who sits on her gilded throne."

Viktor sneered up at Narcissa. "Big words for a woman who was too chicken to die with her husband," he said nastily before breaking into a hiss of pain as his injuries flared up.

The pain in his chest was compounded then by the fact that Narcissa stabbed down her two blades into his legs, a sadistic grin on her face as she leaned down to stare at Viktor's writhing, helmeted head, obviously guessing that, beneath the titanium frame, Viktor was probably screaming with all his might.

"Oh? Why so quiet?" she purred smilingly, her face centimetres away from Viktor's visor. "Weren't you saying something about me being a coward?" For emphasis, she twisted her blades slightly, causing Viktor's body to spasm in pain again.

She suddenly retracted her left blade and brought up her hand to mockingly caress the titanium-wrought helmet as though it were her lover's head. "Such a pity," she lamented in a mocking, girly voice. "All that ugly metal between me and your wonderful screams of agony…" She twisted her right blade in his leg and watched as Viktor went rigid from the pain coursing through him. "Such a waste of a fine wizard," she continued. "All that potential…wasted on a filthy little muggle sow. You could have been great under the regime, you know?"

"F…" Viktor tried to get out, his words crackling through the intercom amid the static noise that denoted his heavy breathing. "Fuck…you…bitch."

Narcissa laughed. "Such vim…such verve!" she complimented mockingly. "Is this the calibre of all of the so-called Empire's finest? Weren't you all supposed to be the most feared unit in the world?"

"No, that'd be me."

Just as painfully as it had been inserted, Viktor convulsed again as Narcissa's right-hand blade was torn out of his leg violently, practically severing it mid-way as it arced up to meet an incoming blow.

Viktor was pretty much on the edge of consciousness at this point, but he did know he heard the sound of metal hitting metal. His vision blurring up and dulling by the second, all Viktor could make out as the darkness overwhelmed him was that two black-robed figures were engaged in a sort of dance-like session in the middle of the boarded transport, which was still on its way up to the Invincible.

And then, nothing; he was out like a light.