Author's Note:

Oh my god, I'm finally free! So sorry for going incommunicado for so long. Lost my job back in January after I posted the chapter. Who would've thought me clearly defining my available time and not working stupid overtime for no reason upset the higher ups. The same people who denied me a raise after 2 years of excellent performance. To be fair, the company hadn't been hitting any of it's financial goals, so it was simply a matter of time before they decided to let go of my team.

After I started prepping and interviewing once more, I found that the field I wanted to enter was primarily limited to those with PhDs. After much pondering, I decided to go for it and apply to a bunch of programs. To my surprise, I got into a pretty good one under an advisor whose papers I had took inspiration from in my undergrad research project. I did however severely underestimate the amount of time I'd have to spend on my initial coursework and have been stuck in a never-ending loop of "I'll work on my fanfic once I'm done with this project" to "oh my God it's 2AM I need to sleep". I've been let out for summer so for the next 3 months of rest and relaxation, I'll be getting back to working on this fic. I want to write at least 6 chapters over the next 3-4 months to be able to drip feed a chapter a month until the year end (hopefully).

I understand most of you are tired of this kind of promise, and I wouldn't blame you for that. I myself am quite disappointed that I haven't been able to keep up with a regular schedule. However, life is more important. I'm writing this purely for fun, and I don't want to make this an unpaid job I do on the side. I'm pretty sure that would signal the end of my writing endeavor. I'll do my best to get back on the saddle, but can't provide any guarantees. If that's not your thing, then I thank you for reading my story and wish you godspeed. If you're okay with sticking around to watch me struggle through writing this story, I'd love to have you along for the ride.

Here's to a great 6 months ahead!

The next morning was a rush of activity, Lancelot started the briefing immediately after breakfast after confirming that none of the Delacour's had any plans to go out for the day.

"Good morning, everyone. As always, Intel came through with their promise and we received all the files that we need to plan for the World Cup over the next couple of days. Per standard protocol, the files will not leave this room or be shared with the client unless Arthur specifically approves it.

Now, expanding on yesterday's briefing, I hope you all had a chance to familiarize yourself with the big names we highlighted, as the first couple of hours today will be dedicated to strategizing on how to deal with them. Information that has been secured from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry state that the Dark Lord Voldemort is not dead, as the world may have thought. Apparently, there was a kerfuffle with a first-year student, the famous Girl-Who-Lived, Rosaline Potter, that involved a possessed Defense professor.

According to the intel, Voldemort was present in the form of a head on the back of the professor's own, hidden beneath a turban throughout the school year. After a struggle, the professor's body was burned to ashes and a newly disembodied wraith that was positively identified as the Dark Lord was reportedly seen escaping from the grounds.

Along with last year's escape of prominent Death Eater Peter Pettigrew from Azkaban, there is reason to believe that the Dark Lord's followers are gathering. While there are no specific motives stated, it would be prudent to assume that regaining a corporeal form is the top priority for the currently incapacitated Lord Voldemort.

How he plans on doing that is up in the air, as there are simply too many possibilities. However, we can safely say that the Death Eaters, even if not acting on their master's orders, might make trouble for us during the World Cup. It is a perfect event to stir fear into the hearts of the British magical populace and use it as a smokescreen for a possible assassination or kidnapping attempt."

"Has there been any activity in the merc market? I would think for an important job like this, our enemies would hire the best they could. Antoine Delacour has made his fair share of enemies among the French noble families. If they pooled resources, they might have enough to hire a solid team." Kay asked.

Harry chose to answer. "Intel intercepted a few feelers reaching out with invites to a possible major recruitment event. No details were specified but as of now, 4 of the Big 10 are projected to be attending. We are currently operating under the assumption that it is a job against the Delacour's until Intel manages to confirm otherwise."

"Gotcha. So, will we be dealing with fellow mercs as well? That makes things more complicated." Kay replied.

"Not particularly. While I'd preferably not resort to such means, if it comes to it, we'll send out the message that the Delacour's are under our protection. It'll disincentivize a lot of the higher-level players. Whoever still takes the job knowing that is fair game." Harry casually replied.

"As Arthur mentioned, there is a good chance that a team might be sent against our clients. It is our responsibility now to plan countermeasures to circumvent any possible attacks. Regarding the situation of the younger Delacour's, it is much more likely that the enemy will opt to kidnap instead of kill. Their father is the main target, taking the daughters would allow them to get him into a vulnerable position for a hit."

Everyone nodded. It made a lot of sense. After all, why waste manpower and effort trying to maneuver into the correct position when you could control your target. That simply meant that the guards of the Delacour children would have to be extra vigilant in their protection. From their dealings with the client, he was exactly the type of man to place the lives of his children above his own.

It was something any opponent would capitalize on without hesitation.

"Turn to page 28 of the briefing packet and we can start." Lancelot replied as everyone started ruffling papers.

The briefing took 4 whole hours, but by the end, the team was on the same page. Harry sighed as he saw his men going about their daily schedule while also routinely patrolling the grounds and training. While they were all some of the best hired wands in the world, he had mandated weekly training to prevent skills from getting rusty. You never knew when you needed to bring all you had to bear to fight off a strong opponent.

Their job was dangerous, but they knew that. The benefits had drawn them in, and it was his charisma and power that kept them together. Should he ever decide to leave, he was pretty sure the Kingsman Agency would disband within a year. Then again, he was certain that this was what he was going to do for at least the next decade.

Merlin had often mentioned that life would surprise him, but so far, nothing had. After being taken under the old mage's wing he thrived. He went from a timid and abused little boy to one of the strongest mercenaries in the world. And his training had yet to be completed.

The Kingsman Agency was a project he had undertaken to simply search for better fights. While it sounded cocky, he knew that there were only a handful of people on the planet that could beat him in a duel. Fewer than that could hope to match him. He was in a league of his own and he would only get better. It also helped that it paid very well, allowing him to build a substantial nest egg.

However, all his power and prodigious talent came at a price. It was damn near impossible to find people who could keep up with him. He didn't like to flaunt his skills, but they had gained a reputation solely based on the kind of people he had killed. His first mission had been a kill order on a werewolf pack that had terrorized several villages in rural Romania.

He had shown up alone and the Ministry liaison had been apoplectic that a teenager was the only one to show up. He had been angrily briefed and sent on his way. Most likely, the man had thought he was some fresh-as-grass punk looking to act tough. He had changed his tune when a large sack of shrunken werewolf heads had been deposited on his desk.

That had been the start of his meteoric rise to the top of the Underground.

Between missions, he would often seek out his master for lessons. Merlin never held back on him. The old man was deceivingly spritely for his age, and his mastery over magic was a level that even Harry thought damn near impossible to reach. Merlin always said otherwise.

After years of learning and practice, Merlin had simply said that experience was the best teacher and sent him on his way. They talked with each other every so often. Usually, it was just Harry catching up on his work and his progress in magical studies. They had established a set schedule for check-ins and biannual duels. Incidentally, one was coming up soon. He would have to make sure that his team was prepared to take up the slack when he left.

It would only be for a day, but as he quickly found out in the business, a lot could go wrong in a single day.

Gently kneading his eyes, he walked towards the kitchen and asked the house-elves to lay out some ingredients and cooking utensils before dismissing them. He cast his standard gamut of investigative charms to ensure that all the provisions were clean before starting to make himself lunch.

While in the middle of slicing ingredients, he heard footsteps behind him. A brief flash of magesight let him know who it was. They were silent and trying to be sneaky, so Harry played along. Just as they were about to pounce, he turned around and tickled his assailant.

Stilted giggles and squeaks sounded throughout the kitchen as he caught Gabrielle Delacour in his arms. "Now, now, little Mademoiselle Delacour, why would you think you could sneak up on me?"

She squealed while apologizing. "I'm learning to be sneaky, and Monsieur Gareth told me you were the sneakiest in your group."

"Why would you want to learn how to be sneaky? There is no need for such a thing." Harry questioned her.

She shrugged in response. "Surprising people is fun. I like being sneaky." She finished with a cheerful grin.

Harry snorted. "Well then, allow me to teach you a few things. When sneaking, it is better to be slow and steady than quick but loud. Your footsteps are louder than you think. Also, breathe through your nose and keep your breathing light. Doing these will allow you to sneak up on people much better."

Gabrielle nodded enthusiastically. "Thank you, Monsieur Henri!"

She skipped off, probably to test the effectiveness of his advice on others.

"The second piece of advice is key even under a Disillusionment Charm, Mademoiselle Delacour. Hearing another's breathing usually indicates that you're not alone." Harry turned to smirk at an empty space near the entrance of the kitchen.

The form of Fleur Delacour shimmered into visibility, with a pronounced scowl on her face.

"I don't need your advice, Monsieur. You may pretend to be wise in front of my little sister, but I see through your act."

Harry chuckled. "Pretend? I don't need to, Mademoiselle. I am just that good. As you found out in our first meeting."

Fleur's expression grew darker as she scoffed. "A fluke at best, but feel free to be proud of yourself for it. You'll never win again, so it does not matter."

Harry opted not to reply and went back to his cooking. Cooking used to be a punishment, but ever since he received counseling from Merlin, he found that he enjoyed it when he wasn't forced into it. That and preparing one's own food was far safer than trusting a stranger you couldn't see.

He could feel Fleur's gaze boring into him and wondered if Veela could make someone spontaneously combust. Their natural affinity towards fire-based magic was well-known throughout the magical world. Maybe that was something he needed to investigate. He'd never fought against a Veela before, and knowing their abilities would translate into him being able to better defend his clients.

He hummed a recognizable French tune he heard on the wireless yesterday and continued his cooking. After staring at him for far too long, Fleur stalked out of the kitchen in a huff. Harry shook his head at that.

He'd dealt with spoilt girls before, as most of his clients were extremely wealthy. Their children were born with a platinum spoon in their mouths, so they all were very used to being catered to. They also quickly found out that he and his men were professionals and wouldn't be cowed by their antics.

This girl was by far one of the most narcissistic he had ever met, with far too much confidence in her meagre skills. Her little sister was behaving better for his master's sake, and that girl hadn't even hit double digits. He was used to the older siblings oftentimes being a bit headstrong, but much more willing to compromise when they realized he was there to protect them and had the skills to do so. This entire situation was a bit weird, but he was used to rolling with the punches.

After enjoying a hearty lunch, he went back to the Command Center and worked on the planning for the World Cup outing. Coordinating with Kay, he helped enchant multiple emergency portkeys and keyed the destination of the safe house they were going to use. After some spirited duelling training with the twins, he made himself some dinner and was enjoying it when his lapel pin subtly vibrated.

A dome of silence magically extended outwards, forming around his head. After a second, he heard a voice calling out. "Gaheris to Arthur."

Tapping once on his lapel pin, Harry responded. "Go for Arthur."

"An owl just delivered a large package to our mail room. Looks like it's from an apothecary in Place Cachee. I don't want to risk ruining any ingredients by casting the security charms."

"If they're potions ingredients you'll have to open the box and check each ingredient with a sniffer. It's a bit time consuming, but it needs to happen. Get Kay to help enchant a couple for you and you can ask Gareth to help."

"Copy that. Gaheris out."

After clarifying the procedure, Harry finished dinner and retired to his room with a book from the Delacour library. A very interesting treatise on popular beheading charms throughout history. Say what you will about the French, but they knew a thing or two about parting people's heads from their bodies.

The team followed that pattern for the days leading up to the World Cup Finals, each stressing over the details of the operation as well as participating in ambush drills. They were going into the event with their eyes wide open, prepared for absolutely anything that might come their way.

On the day of the match, the team joined the Delacour family for a scrumptious breakfast. With one final briefing, they were ready to move out. With each member of the team posted up beside their principal for the day, they took the Floo to the French Ministry building, where they were greeted by the Auror squads in charge of their protection.

Antoine hobnobbed with the other officials before excusing himself to make his way towards the International Departures wing. Lancelot stayed in step with him, his eyes constantly darting around, looking for any signs of suspicious activity. The rest of them formed a cordon around the remaining Delacour family members and kept their immediate surroundings clear.

After the portkey was issued, they waited until the departure time, never letting go of their vigilance. At 11AM on the dot, the portkey activated, whisking their entire group towards their destination in England. The British Ministry of Magic's International Portkey Arrivals terminal.

The moment they touched down, the Kingsman formed ranks and encircled the Delacour's. Taking in their surroundings, they saw a couple of Ministry personnel waiting in the wings of the hall. A dour man dressed in all black walked over to them. He held out a hand to Antoine as he greeted the group.

"Monsieur Delacour. Bartemius Crouch, Head of International Magical Co-operation for the British Ministry of Magic. It is our honor to host you and your family for this momentous event. Thank you for making the journey."

Antoine smiled as he took the proffered hand and replied. "It is our pleasure to be here, Monsieur Crouch. Allow me to introduce my family. My wife, Appoline. My eldest daughter Fleur, and Gabrielle, my youngest."

Crouch bowed. "It is a pleasure to meet you Mesdames. I hope you all enjoy the event." He turned to Antoine and asked. "May I know who these men are, Monsieur Delacour. We were told to expect two Auror squads, but they do not look like Aurors."

"Well Mr. Crouch, our Minister was adamant that the protection for my family and I was of utmost importance. Hence, he replaced one of the Auror squads with one of my department's VIP security squads instead. It won't be a problem, will it? I assure you they have all the training and qualifications to match the Aurors."

"No, not a problem at all. I will just have to update our liaison from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement on this change. They will have to process the IDs for your protection squad, but that will be all. I don't foresee any issue arising."

"Excellent. Thank you for the clarification. I was informed the other squad would be dispatched within the hour. Their papers will already be pre-approved, so if you could alert your Department of Law Enforcement to expect them, that would be appreciated. Will we be making our way directly to the grounds?" Antoine asked.

"Yes. However, we will have to make a stop at the DMLE offices to process the IDs for your security team and certify their entrance into Britain. If you would follow me, please." He started walking out of the terminal, and the group followed.

As they neared the DMLE offices, he saw Tristan getting slightly antsy. He had never had good experiences with law enforcement from his own country, so it was only natural he didn't trust any magical law enforcement personnel.

Harry lightly tapped his hand and raised an eyebrow. Tristan looked back at him with a stony expression. Harry simply shook his head and mimed taking a deep breath. He got a nod in response.

With that out of the way, they focused on presenting a united front with a willingness to go along with whatever the bureaucrats wanted. As they made their way to the processing office, he saw a group of messy desks in the center of the room. Each one had parchments piled high, looking ready to topple over.

Their group drew several eyes, with a few of the more experienced looking Aurors sending more scrutinizing gazes. Tristan with his imposing height received most of the gawking looks. Entering the office, they kept themselves around the principals, not relaxing for an instant.

"Gentleman, please approach the desk one at a time and present your credentials. Once your entry documents have been processed, we will portkey over to the grounds." Crouch gestured to the kiosk.

Lancelot sent him a look, which he gave a light nod. Walking over, Lancelot presented standard French Ministry credentials. Members of RAID-7 were given identification indicating them as members of different obscure task forces and squads within the French Magical Law Enforcement and even drew their salary from the funding for their assigned groups. On paper, they were in no way tied to RAID-7.

RAID-7 operators did not inform anyone of their affiliation even at home, never mind in foreign nations. As far as the British Ministry were concerned, they were just a special squad within French Law Enforcement. No specifics would be provided. They could guess as much as they wanted, but the French Ministry would neither confirm nor deny anything.

One by one, they traded posts to ensure that all angles of attack were covered, and the whole process went quickly and smoothly. The officials barely glanced at the presented IDs before making copies and attaching them to a form for their records and rubberstamping their entry into Britain.

Once finished, they walked out of the DMLE and made their way to the Domestic Portkey Departure terminal. Upon arrival, they had a portkey ready and waiting on the platform for their use. Crouch stepped up first and gave instructions to the group.

"Please step onto the platform and hold a section of the rope. Make sure to keep a nice, secure grip while in transit. Once all of us are ready, I will activate the portkey and we will leave in five seconds."

Everyone complied one by one. After they all assured Crouch they were holding on and secure, he activated the portkey, whisking them away towards the campgrounds of the Quidditch World Cup.

Upon landing, they were greeted to the sight of an Auror squadron positioned around the arrival platform, which caused the Kingsman to tighten security on the principals and get ready for a fight.

Their little showing drew the eyes of the Aurors, but Crouch hand waved it away, saying that they were all perfectly safe. In his words, this was the special VIP portkey entrance that only foreign Ministry personnel and their families were allowed to use. The Aurors were simply there for the protection of the guests and nothing more.

That didn't do anything to assuage Harry's paranoia, as he knew from multiple intel briefings just how incompetent and corrupt the British Aurors were. Then again, what could one expect when several prominent Death Eaters were part of the legislative body that helped approve funding for the people in charge of catching criminals like themselves.

They had lost a lot of members during the last Blood War, and the ones who had survived hadn't remained in the Corps for too long. That had left a gaping hole in their senior leadership, with several lower-ranked Aurors getting fast-tracked for promotions they neither earned nor deserved. Predictably, the overall quality of the Aurors went down as time passed.

In short, in the event of an attack, these people were about as useful as an umbrella in a hurricane. His men would be the first and last line of defense for their principals.

Sending a pulse of magic to his badge, Harry spoke "Don't bother trusting them to come to our aid or be useful in a fight. Follow the briefing as planned. Secure the principals and take them to the safehouse."

He received their affirmations and as they exited the gated section, it was as if a veil had been taken off their senses. Raucous sounds, potent smells, and what seemed like an ocean of bodies manifested before them.

Harry clicked his tongue lightly. It was one thing to see projected attendance numbers on a sheet and another to see it before his eyes.

Crouch grandiosely swept his arm. "Welcome, Mesdames et Messieurs, to the 1994 Quidditch World Cup Finals."