A/N: Hope you like it! Enjoy and leave one.
Part 2
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"The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain." -V
Nineteen weeks later…
"What the hell is going on?!?"
The Muggle Prime Minister was practically tearing his rather thinning patch of hair out of his head as he raged at the Ministry of Magic, Cornelius Fudge.
"People are panicking everywhere. I thought you said you had this under control! I thought you said you could contain it! But six months later and there's still this blasted tower in the middle of Hyde Park! This Voldemort - STOP FLINCHING - person is breaking every single rule that holds our worlds apart!"
The Prime Minister snarled his words at his wizarding counterpart. Fudge, on his behalf, only grimaced at the mention of Voldemort's name. Otherwise, he continued on as if the very fabric of their worlds were not being forced to overlap.
"I understand your concern, Minister. I sincerely do. But you must understand, this is unprecedented. No wizard has ever forcibly revealed magic to the Muggle world…"
"There's that word again! Muggle! Why are we Muggles?"
"Because you are," Fudge confusedly replied.
The Prime Minister shook his head at the other man's casual disregard, "Maybe that's why people keep attacking this so called Army of yours," The Minister quoted the word army with his fingers, "There's riot and chaos erupting all around London and you've done nothing to control those wizards of yours. Nothing!"
"Now wait just a minute," Fudge puffed out his chest to defend his own kind, "It's not just regular Muggles attacking the Army. These Muggles have taken to You-Know-Who as if he were some sort of demigod. They're attacking our brave men on You-Know-Who's behalf. Surely you can see that we're on the same side here."
"I don't care," the Muggle Minister hissed, "We need to rid of him. The Americans are pressuring for us to stop this at once. What would you propose me to do? Drop a nuclear bomb in the middle of London?"
"What's a nuclear bomb?"
"You can't be serious!" the Muggle Minister slammed his fist down on his desk, causing a few papers to shuffle about, "Hiroshima? Nagasaki?"
"Oh - oh, I see."
The Prime Minister rubbed his forehead in deep desperation. Every day the tower stood brought both of their worlds to the brink of chaos. Work production ceased to exist as evidenced by the rather lackluster utilities available throughout the city. The lamps flickered in and out and it was not unusual to find generators running apartments and homes. It was constantly gloomy outside as the tower seemed to block out the sun and bring nothing but darkness and thunder.
"Are there any plans in place? Specifics?" the Prime Minister said with his head in his hands.
"There are…some contingencies in place. We're working on finding a way into this tower and bringing down You-Know-Who. From there, we can find a way to make this tower go away."
The Prime Minister rolled his eyes at the moniker again, muttering under his breath, "You-Know-Who…"
"What about afterwards?" Fudge asked.
"What do you mean afterwards?"
"Minister," Fudge started exasperatedly, "You can't possibly expect us to not do anything about the Muggles. We have to erase their memories about this tower."
"Erase their…erase their memories? Do you realize how many people have seen this tower? Do you realize that this is global!"
"We've done it before," Fudge smoothly answered.
"Before?"
"The Pyramids, that awful statue in Greece, the Colossus of Rhodes," Fudge listed them off his hand, "All magical things. We simply have to erase certain memories from people's minds and the Muggles will believe it to be just another wonder of the world."
The Prime Minister's eyes narrowed as Fudge continued to explain how they were going to erase select memories of all the people in England and the resulting, fabricated cover story.
"And this is just the norm for you people? Erase their memories and continue on with your lives?"
"It is not as easy as it sounds. Muggles and Wizards cannot live together. Think of the atrocities that could be committed. Think of how Muggles could take advantage of wizarding powers. No, we cannot allow it."
For once, Fudge looked almost threatening. He was adamant in his defense of the wizarding world from exposure. Though the Prime Minister still simmered with anger over such accusations, he could see the logic behind the other man's reasoning. A bit bigoted Fudge may be but never stupid.
"Fine. Do as you will. In the mean time, I'd like to have some eyes and ears with you folks."
"What do you mean?"
"I'd like to send one of my trusted soldiers. A Muggle soldier, if you will," the Prime Minister sarcastically intoned.
"I don't think that's the greatest idea," Fudge said haltingly.
"Doesn't matter. I need to know what's going on down there. I can only hear stories of how wizards sweep in against rebels and mince them into little pieces. I also hear stories of how Muggles are capturing wizards and witches and forcing them to do magic against their own will or at gunpoint. I need to have a report so I can attempt to at least have a grasp of this situation," the Minister explained.
"There's complications if we send a Muggle soldier with our regular units. He won't be able to handle himself. Only wizards are meant to see some things. He won't be able to defend himself if a Death Eater attacks. I can't have my soldiers baby-sitting a Muggle," Fudge continued to construct an argument against this request.
"I won't be having any of it. I don't care if you treat him like a non-combatant, I need a report so I can have something to at least give to the Americans," the Prime Minister tiredly repeated.
"I'll allow it," Fudge finally answered after several moments of contemplation, "But I can't guarantee his safety. It is hard to differentiate regular Muggles from those who are serving You-Know-Who now. The lines between are worlds are blurring so perhaps it would do you some good to know how we do things and understand why we do what we must do."
"Perhaps."
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Sergeant Thorn didn't consider himself an extraordinarily unique individual.
He wasn't overly tall or diminutively short. He certainly wasn't the first one to approach an attractive bird at the pub when he was out with all of his friends. His upbringing lacked the abuse or eccentricities that usually produced an odd combination of unique and disturbed individuals. Thorn knew all of these qualities but also knew he was built for one thing in his life: to be a good soldier.
Thorn was a young man, only twenty, but knew his calling as soon as he held the end of a rifle. From that moment on, he swore to defend his country from any attacks or invasions and the what not. He was highly respected among his fellow soldiers and all of the upper up's in command looked well upon him. Taking all of that into consideration, it wasn't completely surprising to hear his name called into the Prime Minister's office.
"Sergeant Thorn. The Minister's ready to see you," the secretary told him.
"Thank you," Thorn replied in a deep baritone.
He strode purposefully into the office with the elegant yet rigid gait of a soldier. Saluting the Prime Minister and shaking his head, Thorn took a seat across from him, his back ramrod straight as he was taught.
"A bourbon?" the Prime Minister asked.
"No thank you."
"Suit yourself," the Prime Minister shrugged. Taking a gulp of the acerbic whiskey, the Minister eyed Thorn thoughtfully.
"How much do you know about the tower?" the Minister was straight to the point.
"Classified level above my clearance, sir. We're on strict patrols to monitor the rioting and other…unusual changes," Thorn delivered his canned response.
"How unusual?"
"Very unusual," Thorn hesitated, not knowing how much he could say.
The Prime Minister nodded as if he expected that sort of answer. He pulled out a manila folder from one of his cabinets and set it neatly on the desk. Even upside down, the text could be easily read by Thorn. It was his name.
"Sergeant Thorn of Wolverhampton. Highly recommended with a spotless record. No siblings, parents deceased, and no other job before joining the military. Are you the same Sergeant Thorn?" the Prime Minister read the dossier.
"Yes, sir."
"Sergeant Thorn. What if I were to tell you there was a whole different world apart from the one you know. What if I told you there was a world so hidden from us that we can't find it though it's right in front of our eyes and in this world exists such a thing called magic," the Prime Minister regarded the soldier thoughtfully.
"I'd call you raving mad, sir," Sergeant Thorn replied without so much as blinking.
"As would I," he agreed, "As would I…"
"You didn't flinch when I told you of magic."
"Sir, I watched a tower rise from the ground in the middle of Hyde Park. Yesterday, I watched a man wave a stick at someone else and cause the other man to burst into flames. It's a good thing I'm not particularly religious or else I would've thought that the apocalypse was upon us…sir," Thorn finished with no waver or deformations in his voice.
"So you've seen it first hand then. Magic?"
"If you want to call it that."
"That's precisely what they call it."
"They, sir?" Thorn's curiosity was beginning to get the better of him.
"They," the Prime Minister rolled his eyes, "are called wizards. They're the ones responsible for this mess."
Thorn's jaw only tightened slightly, "I appreciate you having a laugh at my expense, sir, but is that all?"
"I didn't quite believe it my first time either," the Minister looked off into the distance, reminiscing on simpler times. Pulling out another sheet of parchment, he handed it to Thorn.
"What's this, sir?"
"Your assignment."
Thorn turned over the paper and frowned slightly as he read the text.
"Again, sir, is this a joke?"
"It's not," the Prime Minister seriously replied, "You are to be there tomorrow morning. Your commanding officer will fill you in. You are dismissed, Sergeant."
Thorn stood up in response to the Prime Minister's dismissal. Saluting him once and turning around, the Sergeant left the office with the paper clutched tightly in his hand. There was only one line of text on the paper. It read: Platform 9 and ¾.
The next morning, Sergeant Thorn and his Commanding Officer, a portly man by the name of Samson, were riding through the streets of London in an unmarked car. Samson didn't wish to attract attention from any stragglers or rebels. It was dangerous enough as it is to drive around the semi-deserted roads and roundabouts; driving around in a military vehicle would only attract trouble.
Samson explained that Sergeant Thorn was to explain all of his findings in extensive detail. He would be placed in a covert op and his mission was to understand the purpose of this tower and the man they called Voldemort. He would be assisted by an unnamed force along the way.
"Sir?"
"Yes, Thorn?"
"Permission to speak freely."
"Go ahead."
"Are we really believing this crock of magic bullshit?"
Samson didn't look up from a stack of documents he was reading. Adjusting his monocle so that he could read a particular passage, Samson responded without looking up.
"Thorn, we do as we're told."
"I understand, sir. Are you aware that our rendezvous is at Platform 9...and ¾."
"Yes, Sergeant, I am."
Thorn took that answer as a sign to shut up. Samson wasn't one to question orders as he was a lifer. He had been in the military since he was eighteen and knew the ins and outs and the politics very well. If Samson wasn't questioning the orders, Thorn wouldn't question them either. As they drove, Thorn sworn he saw a flash of odd black robes. His grip tightened on the wheel as he navigated the corners. Finally, they arrived at the semi-abandoned railway. Off in the distance, a light or two would flicker, indicating that a resident or two stayed within their apartments.
Killing the engine, Thorn picked up his assault rifle with one hand and exited the car. Samson exited from the other side as they communicated with a series of hand signals and head jerks. They proceeded carefully, making sure to keep each other covered lest they run into a spot of trouble. As they arrived at Platform 9, Samson instructed Thorn to take cover and secure the perimeter. Once Thorn was satisfied, he reported back to Samson.
"Clear, sir."
"Good. Our contact should meet us here any minute now," Samson checked his watch as he kept his eyes peeled for anyone else.
"Who's our contact if you don't mind me asking, sir?"
"Fella goes by the name of Finnegan. Irish, I suppose with that surname."
"This Finnegan - who is he? SAS? American?"
"If only," Samson snorted.
Footsteps echoed against the stone floor. Judging from the reverberation and the volume, they were very close. Samson and Thorn pressed themselves against the wall, awaiting the unknown figure. Thorn gripped his gun tightly, anticipation making him sweat as the footsteps grew louder and louder. Another set of footsteps accompanied the previous ones. Then another. Thorn deduced there were at least three people making their way over to the platform.
Thorn held his breath in as the three people passed. There were teenagers, hardly over the age of sixteen. All were dressed in long, black coats and wore dark colored beanies. Thorn could see a small handgun in the hand of the far right teenager. Lifting his rifle and pointing it at them, Thorn cleared his throat.
"Drop it."
The three teenagers froze as they heard the click of Thorn releasing the safety of his gun. One of them, without the gun, turned around slowly to face Thorn, his hands in the air all the while.
"You, on the right, drop it!" Samson yelled at him.
There was a clatter as the boy on the right dropped the handgun to the ground. The echo was intensified by the scarcity of noise in the large atrium. As all three teenagers turned, Thorn realized that they couldn't have been any older than eighteen at the most.
"What are you lads doing here? It's a bit unsafe to be running around with a gun," Samson grunted.
"It's not unsafe for us," sneered one of them.
"Just be getting back now," Thorn snapped at them.
"The Dark Lord will come for you," the one that had the gun pointed at Thorn.
"Oh great…" Thorn muttered.
"He can perform spells greater than you can ever see," the one in the middle said crazily, "We worship him."
Thorn could see the tell-tale tattoo that most of the hooligans wore. It was a skull with a snake wrapped around it on their wrist. For some reason or the other, all of those who believed the nutcase in the tower wore those tattoos.
"Just get going lads," Samson warned them, "You shouldn't be here."
"It's you that shouldn't be here old man," they spat.
Neither Thorn nor Sampson saw the teenagers' fourth compatriot. Thorn saw him a split second too late, swinging his gun around pointlessly. Thorn shut his eyes, awaiting the loud bang and subsequent death that would follow. But it never came.
"Protego!"
A shield erupted around Samson and Thorn as the bullet harmlessly bounced off. A man clad in green and beige robes materialized out of nowhere and brandished a stick at the rest of the teenagers.
"I know you know what this is," the man with the thick Irish accent threatened.
They backed off, eyeing the wooden stick warily. While they backpedaled and ran, they shouted, "The Dark Lord will come for you!"
"He tried! Failed! Next!" the Irish man yelled back.
Turning around to face them, the fellow with the weird wooden stick looked at them in an almost amused fashion.
"Careful now, wouldn't want to get done in by a wee bunch of folks," he joked.
"We weren't getting done in," Thorn grunted as he slung his rifle around his shoulder. The Irishman was obviously not a threat.
"Sure," he smiled sardonically.
Thorn assessed the man's appearance for the first time. He looked to be wearing a green and beige set of robes. It was an odd thing to wear but not as odd as the stick he was holding. It was carved and especially designed with a handle. It looked to be…a wand.
"You must be Finnegan," Samson grunted.
"Seamus Finnegan," the Irishman stuck his hand out as a greeting.
"You must be Thorn."
"No, I'm Samson. This is Thorn," Samson jerked his thumb.
"Nice to meet both of you," Seamus said congenially, "Let's not tarry any longer. Follow me."
Seamus turned around and walked through the barrier between Platform 9 and Platform 10. Thorn blinked. Then he blinked again. Did that man really go through the barrier? Even Samson looked a bit befuddled.
"Sir?" Thorn wondered aloud.
Samson took a deep breath and ran through the wall as well. Surprisingly, he didn't bounce off like a trolley. Instead, he passed through as if it were some invisible barrier. Thorn stood still, not quite believing what just happened. Was it a trick of the eye? Was it just an illusion? It couldn't have been just an illusion; Thorn passed by this particular wall a lot before all of these shenanigans started and no one had ever passed through the barrier. Shrugging, Thorn closed his eyes and walked through the wall. When he felt no pain, he hesitatingly opened one eye and found himself on another platform.
"Was wondering how long it'd take you," Seamus said with a wry grin.
"What…" Thorn looked around him to make sure it was all real, "…the fuck just happened."
His smile only grew wilder, "Magic."
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They piled into a train. Thorn was disturbed to find other similarly dressed people in green and beige robes. As he took a seat in an empty compartment, Seamus started feeding him some crackpot story about wizards and wands and magic.
"You can't possibly serious! Samson, this is just a big hoax, isn't it?" Thorn yelled.
"Not exactly," Samson slowly spoke.
"What do you mean not exactly?"
"We should be believe Finnegan here," Samson explained, "After all, he is the wizard."
Thorn was stunned to hear Samson agree with Seamus. Turning to the smiling Irishman, Thorn demanded another example.
"Show me again," he commanded.
Seamus shrugged and waved the stick in his hand. My gun suddenly levitated in the air. Feeling territorial, Thorn snatched it back but looked at it in awe. That was the third example of 'magic' Thorn had seen and he was sure that Seamus wasn't some sort of cheap conjurer.
"Excuse me if I'm a bit dazed," Thorn said in a surprised manner.
"You're actually taking it quite well. Most people faint," Seamus informed him.
"That's good to know."
Seamus laughed and was about to retort but was interrupted by the compartment door sliding open. A black man with dreadlocks stepped in and waved at the other two patrons before turning to Seamus.
"Archer's rendezvousing with us," the dreadlock man muttered to Seamus.
"Where?"
There was a loud thud on the roof. Seamus eyed it warily and pulled out his wand but lowered it when he looked out the window. Thorn turned to see what he was staring at and was immediately frightened by the sight of a man with a mask staring at him.
"Ahhhh!" Thorn yelled as he struggled to release the safety of his gun.
"Whoa, calm down there!" the dreadlock man insisted, "Our side."
"He," Thorn pointed at the upside down masked man, "is on your side! Bollocks that."
"He's a bit dramatic," Seamus relented, "But definitely on our side."
The masked man tapped the window with his wand and opened it. Swinging his legs inside, he dusted off his robes with a flourish and nodded slightly to Seamus. The man's mask was white all white with only little slits for the eyes and mouth. There were no other distinguishable features painted or stitched on the mask. It simply served to hide his face.
"A little dramatic, don't you think?" Seamus mused.
"Not particularly," the masked man's voice was garbled and certainly not his own. It was too deep and distorted to be a regular man's voice.
"You could have just waited until we got to Hogsmeade," dreadlocks offered.
"I caught up anyways," the masked man said in his garbled voice.
"Whatever suits your fancy, Archer," Seamus shrugged.
Without so much as an excuse me, Archer fled from the compartment, not bothering to say hello to the two astonished Muggles. Seamus and the dreadlocked man laughed as they saw the shocked faces of the two soldiers.
"That's Archer. He's one for the theatrics. Part of our unit," Seamus explained.
"What's wrong with his voice?" Samson asked.
"He never said. He just showed up one day with our Captain and his voice has always been like that. He never takes off his mask either."
"So he just wears a mask all the time and speaks in a disguised voice? Don't you think that's a tad bit suspicious?" Thorn interrogated.
"At first," dreadlocks admitted.
"I'm sorry, what's your name again?" Thorn asked.
"Oh - my apologies - I'm Dean. Part of the same unit," Dean shook Thorn's hand, "But as I was saying, at first he was a bit suspicious but some things happened and trust me, he's on our side."
"Right," Thorn said sardonically.
Seamus gave another chuckle and stood up, "Well I have to have a word with Archer about something. I'll leave you two here for a second. Come on, Dean."
As they left the compartment, Thorn rounded on Sampson.
"Sir, what is going on? Wizards? Wands? Magic?" Thorn asked his commanding officer without the influence of the supposed wizard.
Samson sighed, "I've only found out recently. The Minister only recently approved sending down sensitive information since the rise of the tower. It's apparent that this other world exists. This other world full of magic."
Samson said the word magic as if he still didn't believe it. Yet here they were traveling on a train after passing through a solid barrier and being defended by a man with a wooden stick. The facts were too prevalent.
"And the Minister wants me to sit-in with these people?" Thorn asked incredulously.
Samson grew serious, "It's imperative you learn how they do things. Day by day, the riots and anarchy are growing worst in the city. If they can't somehow stop this tower and the mad man inside of it, we'll have to resort to drastic measures."
"Drastic measures?"
"Drastic," Samson repeated.
Thorn was about to speak but was interrupted by the compartment door opening again. This time, a group of different robed people walked in.
"Oh," one of them said, "This must be the wrong compartment…wait, why are you carrying guns?"
Thorn felt a bit miffed when he realized that no one he had met was older than himself.
"We're…um…we're not wizards," Samson answered.
"Then what are you doing here?"
"Well…"
Samson was saved by Dean re-entering the compartment.
"Oi, leave 'em alone. They're with me," said Dean.
"They're with you?" the bossy one asked.
"Yes, Ernie, they're with me," Dean rolled his eyes, "They're our Muggle tag along."
"Oh I remember 'bout that," Ernie slapped his forehead, "Tough unit you're heading with," Ernie addressed Thorn, "That's if the things they say about Potter are true."
"What things?" Thorn asked.
"I heard they leave no survivors."
"I heard Potter kills all the Death Eaters himself. No one else is allowed to."
"No, I heard Archer does all the dirty work. Potter just leaves it to him."
"Does it matter? No one's ever alive when they come through and they never take any prisoners back."
"I heard Potter once took on an entire group of mixed Death Eaters and then dumped them all in a ditch. Alive."
The chatter from the random wizards in the compartment grew to a deafening buzz as they continued to postulate and theorize. Thorn deducted that this Potter fellow was certainly deranged. Dean was trying to shush them but was failing miserably. Samson stood up and whistled shrilly, calling for everyone's attention.
"There you go lad," Samson grunted at Dean as he took a seat again.
"So what is it, Dean? Is it true what they say about Potter? Your unit leaves no survivors," Ernie asked.
"I don't know," Dean shrugged honestly, "We're not allowed to use the Killing Curse. Once we've basically incapacitated the ones we haven't accidentally killed, we hand them over to Harry and Archer. We never take anyone back."
The whispers and rumors flew around the growing number of wizards. It seemed as if the legend of Potter was attracting a crowd. Dean, in the meanwhile, wasn't doing anything to dispel them.
"Is it true Archer once killed a man by sticking his wand through the eyes?"
"Did Potter really burn a house with Death Eaters stuck inside?"
"People say that it's Potter that You-Know-Who should fear and not Longbottom."
The questions were flying in quick and fast, growing in ridiculousness and believability. The crowd suddenly hushed though Thorn couldn't see why. After a moment, he heard the reason.
"Is there a problem here?" came the garbled voice of Archer.
"They're just a bit curious," Dean answered, a smile threatening to break on his face as the rest of the wizards stepped away from the advancing Archer.
"Curious about what?" Archer turned to Ernie.
"Well - um - you see -" Ernie was clearly uncomfortable, "-look we're here!"
The train indeed stopped on Ernie's mark, bringing an abrupt end to the sudden question and answer session. Ernie and his fellow wizards left, leaving Archer, Dean, and Seamus alone with Thorn and Samson.
"Alright, Samson. I'll have Dean bring you back, it's only Thorn from here," Seamus beckoned them to follow him outside.
"Right," Samson nodded, "Excuse me while I have a word?"
"Of course."
The rest of the wizards fled from the compartment, leaving Samson and Thorn to converse in private. Samson pulled the drapes for the window and the compartment door window, attempting to shroud them in secrecy. Samson started speaking in a hushed tone, obviously trying to hide whatever he was going to say.
"It's imperative you learn of how they operate. There are too many unsubstantiated reports on wizard violence going around. Things are tetchy as it is between these two worlds without overlapping conflict. Just stay quiet and come back alive and see if they have any way to stop this Voldemort fellow."
"Yes, sir," Thorn agreed with him.
Samson saluted him and fled the compartment without another word. Thorn followed him outside and stepped off the train, examining the destination for the first time. It seemed to be a small village lined with assorted shops and buildings. Thorn's eyes almost popped out of their sockets as he surveyed the vast assortment of shops. Moving pictures? Floating objects? Firewhiskey? He would have to make sure to try the last one.
"Over here!" waved Dean.
"We're all set," Samson informed him as they trotted up to the wizard.
"Good. Just take this powder, shout your destination and off you go," Dean handed Samson a small pinch of powder.
Samson looked at it hesitantly but shrugged and threw the powder into the fireplace. Shouting his destination loud and clear, Samson jumped into the green fire. Thorn watched in amazement as Samson suddenly disappeared.
"He'll be alright, right?" Thorn asked.
"We haven't let you down yet," Dean said cheekily, "Let's go meet Captain."
Thorn followed Dean as the wizard led him through the village of Hogsmeade. Little tents and camps were set up outside the shops. Wizards wearing the green and beige robes were constantly flowing in and out of said tents and other shops. Dean explained that green and beige robes were indicators that they were part of the Minister's Army, the equivalent wizard army. Hogsmeade was their temporary headquarters.
"What's that there? The castle in the distance?" Thorn pointed to the castle in the distance across the lake.
"That's Hogwarts. Used to be a school but it's mostly used as an Infirmary now. It also houses any of the refugees or displaced families. That's why we're down here," Dean explained.
Dean continued to introduce Thorn to the various aspects of wizarding culture. The Minister's Army was usually delegated to fighting off the various Death Eaters roaming underground and above ground as well. Voldemort's tower seemed to provide them a strange power that they couldn't quite understand. They were also having trouble fighting Muggles as they were not used to this sudden interweaving of worlds.
"We can deflect the bullets well enough but they break through our shields eventually. Then there's also some complications with what spells we can use against Muggles and how much exposure we can show. We try to stay away mostly," Dean led him through a labyrinth of tents and camps.
"So that…spell you used earlier. It can stop bullets but only for a little while?"
"Usually that's how it works."
Dean rounded one final corner and opened the flap to a larger tent. Thorn followed him inside and found a couple of people milling about. Some of them were playing some sort of card game that didn't make any sense and the others were busy as well. He spotted Seamus talking to another person with black hair and spectacles.
"Why is everyone so young?" Thorn asked as he once again found that he was the oldest.
"We start young, I guess," Dean shrugged.
"Oh good," Seamus spotted the approaching pair, "Harry, this is Thorn. Thorn, meet Captain Potter."
"Pleased to meet you," Potter stuck out his hand.
"You as well, Captain," Thorn nodded, giving Harry a once over.
He didn't seem particularly intimidating. He was of average height and a bit on the scrawny side to be honest. There were no special markings on him besides his vivid, green eyes. Was this really the deadly Captain Potter?
"Don't mean to be rude, but I'm a bit busy right now. Seamus round up everyone and find Archer. We're about to be sent out again," Potter nodded once to Thorn before burying his head in a file of documents.
"Out? In the field? I'll go," Thorn volunteered.
Potter looked surprise by Thorn's sudden volunteered participation. His eyes narrowed and Thorn felt a peculiar feeling pass through his head. It was only for a moment, however, and Potter nodded.
"Alright, stick with Dean."
The rest of the people in the tent gathered round the Captain. Thorn looked around and realized that even though Potter seemed to be a scrawny, little kid, he commanded the respect of everyone in the tent. Thorn would have to keep an eye out for Potter's supposed ferociousness.
"Everyone pay attention. This is Thorn. He's a Muggle and none of you are to give him any stick," Potter looked threateningly at his unit, "If I even hear wind of anything like that, I'll send you out to Moody myself."
Once that particular message was delivered, "Now, someone's reporting a disturbance out in the Midlands. Moody thinks there's a couple of Mixers and possibly Trolls and he's sent us out. We're flying out in five minutes."
Potter was direct and to the point. Once he was finished, he left the rest of his unit to gather their supplies and prepare for flight. Thorn turned to Dean with a question in his mind.
"What are Mixers?"
"Mixers are…well they're Muggles that follow Voldemort," Dean tried to explain.
"What's the difference between a Mixer and a Death Eater?"
"Death Eaters are just wizards who follow Voldemort. We call the Muggle folk Mixers because they don't know any better."
"Don't know any better?" Thorn asked with a frown.
Dean shrugged, "Voldemort's been around for a long time, mate. He's raised that tower though and all of a sudden Muggles are following and worshipping him. They just don't know any better."
"I suppose," Thorn did feel a bit angered that Dean kept referring to them as Muggles. It wasn't as if they were a different race or anything. But Thorn kept those thoughts to himself for now.
"So we're flying? I didn't know that you would use planes."
Dean scoffed, "Planes? Mate, we're riding broomsticks."
"You're kidding…"
"Don't you want to find out?" Dean grinned.
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"This is amazing!" Thorn yelled as he held on to Dean.
They were currently flying hundreds of feet above the ground on a broomstick. Thorn whooped and hollered, much to the rest of the unit's amusement when they took flight. Thorn marveled at the view and the feeling of flying with no restraints.
"If I had one of these, I'd go flying everywhere!" Thorn yelled into Dean's ear.
"I would too, but it's a bit dangerous. Muggles easily spot you if you're not careful and you can't go around flying at high altitudes because of all the airplanes. But since the tower is up, we've done a bit more flying since we're not nearly as conspicuous," Dean explained.
A wizard saddled along side Dean and grinned at them, "Having fun there, Thorn? I'm Michael Corner, resident humanitarian."
"Michael likes to make sure everyone's getting along. Good for morale he says," Dean piped in.
"Everyone but Archer. He doesn't get along with anyone," Michael smiled or at least tried to smile in the freezing wind.
"What's his problem?" Thorn wondered.
"He wears a mask. That should tell you enough about him," Michael said wryly as he peeled away.
"Who else is in the unit?" Thorn asked Dean.
"There's Harry. He's kind of been leading us ever since Hogwarts - well, school. There's Archer; it's better not to talk to him. You've meat Seamus and Michael. Padma's over there, she takes care of all the defenses and precautionary things."
"She?"
"Yeah," Dean answered bemusedly, "Why?"
"You let girls fight?"
Dean shrugged, "If they're good enough, yeah. Don't see anything wrong with it."
"Interesting."
"Anyways, the other girl is Su Li. She's a wee one but don't let that fool you. Anytime we need to blow up something, we ring Su Li."
Dean finished the introductions of the unit. Leading the flight, Potter made a hand signal to the rest of them. Dean turned around and yelled, "Hold on tight!"
"What - why - ohhhh!"
Dean pitched the broom into a steep dive and Thorn held on for dear life as the rest of the unit followed. The rush of wind whistled in Thorn's ears and the man smiled gleefully at the exhilarating feeling. He was reminded of the new rollercoaster in Staffordshire except the experience was increased a hundred-fold. They touched down on the ground only a few seconds later.
"Have to do that again," Thorn grinned.
Su Li touched down a second later, her legs slightly wobbly.
"Do we always have to fly?" Su Li grumbled.
"Didn't want anyone splinching themselves in case they have Anti-Apparition wards," Potter replied smoothly.
"Fan out. Seamus and Dean, you take Thorn down the left. Archer with me. Su Li, Padma, and Michael take the right. We'll meet on the other side of the town," Potter ordered.
"Come on, Thorn. Let's take a stroll," said Seamus.
The town in question was located somewhere in the West Midlands. It looked to be abandoned, much like many of the towns in England since the rise of the tower. Most families fled to their homes or other safe structures to shield themselves from the riots and well…Mixers for lack of a better word. There were three main alleys that split on one end of town and re-joined in the other. Thorn followed Seamus and Dean down the left alley.
"So what do you do when you get here? Doesn't seem like there's anything going on," Thorn commented.
"They like to hide for a bit until we make our presence known. We usually obliviate the Mixers and send them on their merry way. Usually, we have to take down the bigger creatures," answered Dean.
"Creatures?" Thorn asked hesitantly.
"Yeah, you know. Dragons, Trolls, Centaurs and what not," Seamus winked at the befuddled Muggle.
"Right," Thorn warily released the safety of his assault rifle and brought it into a ready position.
"Just don't go pointing that thing at me. I got hit in the leg the other week and it bloody hurt more than any curse I've ever felt," Seamus warned.
"If you got hit in the leg, how come you're walking a week later?"
"Magic," Seamus shrugged.
Thorn realized that he had a lot to learn about this magic business. He brought his rifle up to his shoulder and started making routine scans for any targets. If there were rebels out here, and Thorn had dealt with his fair share, he would need to be prepared. They had only walked for about a minute or so before they heard an explosion on the other side of town.
"Don't worry," Seamus assuaged Thorn's worries, "They can handle themselves. If they need help, they'll send up sparks. Let's just clear our area and move over there when we can."
They hurried their pace in case the others needed help. Seamus and Dean were only haphazardly checking the various stores and nooks. Thorn was half jogging along as silence once again fell over the town. The only sound was the heavy padding of his combat boots and the heavy heaves of his lungs.
"Contact left!" Seamus yelled as he produced a magical shield.
"Thorn, behind me!" Dean yelled as he dove to the ground and pulled Thorn with him.
Thorn heard the distinct sound of bullets grazing and chipping the stone walls behind him. Seamus took cover behind a thick wall and started aiming spells towards the attacker. The attacker was hiding in a window about two buildings on the left. He would only peek out and shoot his gun for a couple of seconds before retreating. Thorn kept his ears perked as he glanced over the low wall he was hiding behind.
"Dean. It's a semi-automatic. He's going to have to reload after a couple of shots. Can you do something about that when he goes to reload?" Thorn breathed out, the adrenaline rushing through his veins.
"You bet I can," Dean muttered.
Thorn's prediction came true as the attacker suddenly stopped his barrage of fire after a set number of shots. Thorn nodded to Dean, indicating that it was time. Dean stood over the low wall and aimed purposefully.
"Bombarda!"
The window exploded, a crater sized hole replacing the spot instead. Thorn could distinctly spot a body flying and crunching against the ground. They had no time to celebrate their small victory as more gunfire rained down on them.
"Got three to the right. Three!" Dean hopped over the low wall to take a more forward position against a pillar.
"One down!" Seamus yelled as he obviously hit someone with some sort of spell.
"They're moving. Trying to flank you, Seamus!" Thorn yelled as he spotted the two attackers on the ground. He aimed carefully and let out a small squeeze of gunfire. It splattered against the wall behind the attackers but forced them to take cover.
"Thorn," Dean was in front of Thorn, taking cover behind a large pillar, "Can you see them?"
"Yeah. They're over your right shoulder hiding behind the two parked cars."
Dean nodded and then squeezed his eyes shut in concentration.
"Accio Guns!"
Two rifles whistled through the air and crashed in front of Dean's feet, rendering the attackers almost useless.
"Neat trick," Thorn said.
"Thanks."
It was Thorn who spotted the object flying through the air.
"Grenade!"
Thorn leaped over the wall and tackled Dean away from the grenade. The resulting explosion was deafening as the fragments ripped against the surrounding area. Thankfully, Thorn had knocked them both behind some sort of cover. As Thorn peeked over the wall, he could see that the resulting explosion had obliterated the pillar where Dean had previously stood.
"Good show, Thorn. You're looking to be more useful than me," Dean grunted as he got up.
Seamus had stunned the two attackers and bound them on the ground. In the distance, they could hear more fighting going on in the background. Seamus and Dean looked at each other in worry as a loud, animalistic noise sounded through the town.
"Troll," the said simultaneously.
"Hurry, Thorn!"
They sprinted and cut through an alley into the center part of the town. They emerged in a large clearing that was probably the central hub of the previously quiet town. Thorn's jaw dropped as he looked up and found a massive troll swinging it's club around. In the center of the area was a fountain and Archer looked to be dodging the troll by running around the fountain.
"That's a…." Thorn trailed off as he continued to gawk at the massive creature.
"Troll," Seamus finished as he leapt into action.
The troll was smashing it's club against the ground, ripping up chunks of pavement and dirt in the process. Archer was hopping around it nimbly, unscathed by the pounding of the club but unable to get a good hit in. The troll roared as Seamus hit him with a spell between the eyes. It swung around dumbly, blind and confused. Thorn narrowly ducked below the club, as he hopped around gingerly. He aimed his gun at the troll's head and squeezed off a few rounds. To his great surprise, most of the bullets seemed to deflect of the troll's skin. However, it certainly seemed to agitate the large creature as it gave an almighty roar and turned towards Thorn.
Thorn dropped to one knee and took very careful aim. His finger was steady as it squeezed off three rounds directly at the intended target. The troll groaned as three bullets made direct connection with his right eye. It clutched the eye and dropped the club, swaying dangerously all the while. The wizards seemed to be frozen by the troll's sudden dizziness. After a few seconds, the troll unceremoniously dropped at Thorn's feet. Thorn gave it a kick and realized that it wasn't breathing.
"Way to go, Thorn!" Seamus whooped as he ran towards their Muggle tag along.
Archer approached them as Seamus and Dean continued to congratulate Thorn. His mask looked down at the troll then at Thorn then back at the troll again. He didn't say anything but Archer gave Thorn a thumbs up and walked away.
"Impressive," Dean mused.
"What is?" Thorn asked.
"Archer never gives anyone a thumbs up," Seamus laughed as he clapped Thorn on the back.
A minute later, Potter emerged from a different alley looking unbothered.
"All clear?" Potter asked.
Archer nodded in response as he gathered a few of the bound prisoners. The rest of the unit also rejoined the group at the main courtyard, prisoners in tow. Potter counted the prisoners and nodded to himself.
"Sort them."
Archer started moving some of the prisoners on the left and the rest of them on the right. Thorn checked his ammo and leaned over to ask Seamus a question.
"What's he doing?"
"We're sorting the Mixers from the Death Eaters," Seamus said as he watched Archer complete the task.
"Why?"
"We're going to obliviate the Mixers."
"And the rest?"
"That's up to Harry and Archer to decide," Seamus left the answer purposefully ambiguous.
"I see."
Archer approached Seamus and spoke in his usual garbled distortion, "Obliviate the Mixers."
"We know," Seamus rolled his eyes as he levitated the Mixers so they were all in one collective group.
In the meanwhile, Archer and Potter were taking the rest of the Death Eaters to a different, out of sight location. Thorn was curious as he watched them disappear around the corner.
"Why do they lead them away? Have you ever seen what they do?" Thorn asked again.
"No and I don't particularly care to find out either," Seamus admitted.
Seamus began to obliviate the Mixers, which looked to be a relatively simple task to Thorn. He just said a spell and then told the captor what they were supposed to remember. There was a fleeting thought in Thorn's mind as he imagined the possibilities of such an ability in the hands of the wrong people. But those were problems he wasn't supposed to dwell on. There was something else he could find out though…
While the rest of the unit was busy taking care of the Mixers, Thorn slinked off unnoticed. He followed the path that Potter and Archer had taken. Thorn slowed down as he heard the distinct distortion of Archer.
"Do you know where he is?" Archer asked.
The Death Eater spat in his face, which didn't amount to much since Archer was wearing his mask. He was the last Death Eater as apparently Archer was finished questioning them. All of the Death Eaters were kneeling in a single row in front of Potter and Archer. Each of them were unmasked, an irony that was not lost upon Archer.
"Nothing then?" Potter's arms were crossed as he glared at the Death Eaters.
"Nothing," repeated Archer.
"Alright," Potter sighed, "On with it then."
Archer nodded as Potter took a step back from the proceedings.
"Silencio."
Archer waved his wand around the Death Eaters once. He then moved each Death Eater so they were all kneeling in a make shift crater that had been created during the fight. Archer took a couple of steps back and pointed his wand at the collected group of Death Eaters.
"Expulso!"
Before Thorn could even blink, the crater exploded but there were no sounds. It was just an explosion of debris and dust clouding the crater. As the dust started to fall and settle, Thorn was horrified to see bits and pieces of human flesh inside the crater. Blood was pooling inside the large ditch as Archer leaned in to make sure he completed the job.
"Alright," Potter's face was grim but determined, "Let's get a move on."
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