r/WritingPrompts • u/scott_hunts • Oct 25 '18
Established Universe [EU] With Voldemort's army closing in the students try one last trick, they try to summon a power they have only a vague notion of, from stories told by muggles. After uttering "Accio NATO air support", theromobaric bombs start dropping, and they learn how brutal muggle warfare is.
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u/Spiz101 Nov 02 '18
For a summer night, there was a terrible chill in the air.
A young wizard lowered his antique brass field glasses from his face, and turned to face the people gathered behind him.
A dozen students of varying ages were swarming across the top of the tower on which he stood, carrying steel boxes up the stairs and stacking them on the flat roof, on which stood a half dozen ancient brass and steel machines.
The rest of the wizards had just laughed at him when he had proposed getting some hundred year old muggle weapons and setting them up on this remote tower at the edge of the castle, but they had reluctantly given him a dozen of the weakest students remaining in the castle and told him to get to it.
The fact was, he was a muggle-born, and though his parents had been delighted at the explanation Hogwarts had provided for the odd happenings in the house, they had insisted that he spend his summers at an intensive private school, cramming a years education into just a few weeks.
It had rendered his childhood a little less 'fun' than most of the students at the school, but it also meant he was essentially fully educated in both the muggle and wizarding worlds. Which included a knowledge of the realities of muggle warfare, which had long since surpassed the strife in the wizarding world for brutality and efficiency.
And that is the course that had led him to this day, and this place.
He was overlooking the side of the castle that faced towards Hogesmead, and the bridge that would give the approaching horde of death eaters access to the castle. The bridge had to be held, or they were lost.
"Everyone get ready, it's almost time", he spoke quietly and yet firmly, and turned back towards the line of black cloaked figures that had appeared on the treeline in front of him. The attack was coming, they would have to pour down the slope towards the bridge, and most importantly would be moving across his front, which meant that they would be perfectly enfiladed.
The death eaters were visible in the moonlight, and he could see one wave up and down the line, and they began to move forwards. He used the markings on the lens of his field glasses to estimate the range, and spoke again.
"Set range at 500 metres, prepare to fire".
There was a clicking at the students, rapidly trained on these weapons over the previous few hours adjusted the settings on the sights and worked the charging handles on the Vickers guns. A few spells lit the night in front of him.
Death eaters and the handful of defenders on the bridge were lobbing green and red bolts at each other, although he privately doubted they would hit anything with such desultory fire at this range.
It was probably best that many of the teenaged students on this tower wouldn't be able to see the effect their weapons were having from this range, and without tracers it is likely the death eaters would never know what was hitting them. But he raised his field glasses back to his face - he had to see, after all it was his idea.
He watched the wave flow forward, like something out of the Napoleonic era or some formless ancient horde. It was time
"Commence Firing"
And then the roar drowned out the world.
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u/scott_hunts Nov 03 '18
Ooh I like the open ending, they don’t work for every story, but it fits very nicely here.
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u/Spiz101 Nov 04 '18
I like the open ending because its very difficult to write convincingly about people being torn down by machine gun fire, and it almost doesn't even matter.
They won't take the bridge this time
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u/talon04 Oct 27 '18
Nov 9th 2010
Commander Rick "Magic" Stevens USAF F-16 Pilot. RAF Fairford
Rick sat in the cold metal chair staring at himself drumming his fingers on the table in the room. Stark white a lone camera above records him as he waits. The door suddenly opens and in walks RAF General Percy Wilson enters the room walking over and sitting across from him.
Percy sighs and leans forward, "So commander, I've heard you have quite the story to tell? About why you felt the need to bomb Scotland? How about you tell me what you saw?"
Rick perks up, "Well it was a simple night flight and bombing exercise is what we were going to do. Take off from here at FairFord fly to RAF Cowden and drop CBU-52s along with a few strafing passes. Rocket and I took off on our two ship mission and flew along. About the midway point we had a strange thing happen. All the flights in both Vipers dimmed and then came back on, when they did we received a priority mission change. We were redirected to Scotland." Rick leans forward toward Percy, "I still can't believe what we saw when we got there. It had to be an all out fight between two heavily armed units. Constant tracers back and forth."
Percy rolls his eyes. "Constant tracers? Really? There were no military units out there. There was no report of a battle or gunfire."
Rick shakes his head. "I know what I saw! Ask Rocket. He will vouch for me he saw it as well! Or your all's Tornado Pilots who showed up! I think there flight was Sweep 131 and 134!"
Percy scribbles on his notepad furiously, "I'll be sure to do that. Please continue with your ludicrous story."
Rick shakes his head, "Well when we arrived on station we received another priority update with orders to attack all forces in the forest any green tracers, danger close to the castle," Percy raises his finger for a moment, "Wait what castle?"
Rick shrugs "I dunno it was some castle in the Scottish moors."
Percy shakes his head again and continues to write on the pad of paper."Well continue then."
Rick swallows hard a lump in his throat, "Well we rolled in low and came in to get an idea of where to put the CBU's down. Made a single pass and then came around and we each started dropping on targets in the area. The first pass I dropped two on what was the largest group in the area and the amount of fire immediately decreased. At that point whoever it was started shooting at us. Small caliber green tracers bouncing off the wings, it seems they were not expecting us. We then continued passes until we went Winchester as we were heading out the Sweeps took over."
He sits back at the conclusion of his story. Watching Percy write away. "You don't believe me do you? Hell the base commander didn't, nor did the ground crews, Rocket can't believe it either."
Percy smiles softly as he finishes writing. Looking up to the pilot "Actually I do, I believe you will never know what you accomplished tonight. You saved countless lives and countless generations of people from certain death. That you saved one of the most important monuments in the world. A pity no one will ever know. I'm sorry son, Obliviate."
The charm shoots from his pen and smacks the pilot in the chest erasing his memory. Rising slowly Percy looks down at his paper. How many more would he have to charm? The 'Sweep' flight was next there was at least one B-52 crew as well that had come in after them. He sighs softly and murmurs "an Aurors work is never done."
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u/Float-Your-Goat Oct 27 '18 edited Oct 27 '18
Major Jeremy P. Baker, USAF, felt like he was waking up from a deep sleep. This was concerning, because normally he awoke in his bed. In the present moment, however, he was at the controls of the airplane he commanded, but he couldn't remember why he was there. He wasn't suffering from total amnesia. Though it seemed like a lifetime ago, with some effort he could recall how he'd arrived at his current post.
His was an unconventional trajectory; he'd paid his own way through college and accumulated over a thousand flight hours ferrying cargo over the remote Alaskan wilderness. When he finally got his shot at a military pilot slot he'd required a special waiver due to his advanced age of nearly thirty. He remembered the disappointment of being assigned to fly the lumbering C-130 cargo airplane instead of the fast jets he desired, and how he now considered this to be his good fortune. Major Baker's present assignment, which he loved, was to pilot one of the most lethal air-to-ground platforms in the inventory, the AC-130H "Spectre" flying gunship.
The converted four-engine transport was not fast or maneuverable, but what it lacked in performance it more than made up for in offensive capability. The airplane bristled with guns and sensors, operated by a dedicated crew of 13 men and women under his command. When they weren't training, they were being deployed to remote dirt airstrips in the most dangerous parts of the world.
He remembered all of this, and yet he was clueless as to why he was seated in the cockpit at that moment. His first thought was that he must be dreaming, but the world around him felt far too real. He wondered if he was having a stroke. Though none of them voiced it, the other dozen crewmen aboard were having the same thoughts run through their heads.
The Major studied his cockpit instruments and satisfied himself that they were safe from any immediate danger. It was night time, and he flipped his night vision goggles down in front of his eyes. Out of the left cockpit window he saw something unbelievable. A very large building, it looked like a castle, was being besieged by ground forces. It wasn't a particularly large force, a company or perhaps an understrength battalion, but whatever weapons they were using looked as if they were putting on a fireworks show.
On the ground a Death Eater was annoyed. The battle was decidedly in their favor; soon their master would purify the wizarding world of the mudbloods and their allies, and yet here was a muggle airplane encroaching on the sacred site of their imminent victory. He'd only noticed the black silhouette because it happened to pass across the full moon, which was low on the horizon. He hated muggles. His next action was taken more out of annoyance than any real thought. Raising his wand, he fired a bolt in the general direction of the disgusting muggles and their pathetic flying machine with the intention of warding them away.
"Incoming," said the low-light camera operator seated next to the AC-130's fire control officer. Whatever it was, it was traveling far too slowly to be a tracer from an anti-aircraft gun, but it didn't look like a missile either. Still, it was flying in their direction.
"Countermeasures," responded the pilot. From deployers arrayed along the sides and belly of the aircraft sprang canisters of chaff, aluminized mylar strips that would confuse the homing radar of an enemy missile. Additional deployers dispensed a salvo of thirty-six flares, designed to attract heat-seeking missiles. The chaff was invisible in the night sky, but the flares created a spectacular display. As they fell below and behind the big airplane their smoke trails combined and swirled in the massive vortices generated by the wings, distorting the smoke into the shape of an angel's wings. It was this phenomenon, well known within military circles, that earned the AC-130 the nickname "angel of death". The remaining flares and the moonlight provided eerie illumination to the ghostly wings, hundreds of feet tall, that hovered in the sky behind the airplane.
The bolt from the first Death Eater's wand streaked harmlessly a hundred feet below the airplane. While most of the Death Eaters were content to ignore the impotent muggle intrusion, the appearance of the faintly glowing smoky creature was quite another matter. The wizards and witches inside the castle had summoned something enormous, and, though the Death Eaters and their allies didn't know what it was, they perceived it as an obvious and imminent threat.
"Oh shit!" exclaimed the fire control officer, staring at his TV display. "Lots more incoming!"
The pilot didn't know where he was, he didn't remember being briefed for the mission, and didn't know what their rules of engagement were. It didn't matter. His airplane was being attacked, and even under the most restrictive ROE they were obligated to respond. He called for countermeasures once again. "Weapons free," he called over the intercom. On the transparent heads-up-display that was mounted on his left window he could see that the fire control officer had designated a target. He rolled the airplane to align the symbols on the display and hammered the CONSENT button on his control yoke. With a valid fire-control solution and pilot consent, the computer loosed a round from the 105mm howitzer that the FCO had aimed into the densest concentration of the ground forces. A few seconds later, the 33-pound high-explosive shell found its mark. By the time it landed, another was already in the air.
What had been a chaotic scene on the ground immediately turned into a living nightmare. Colossal explosions tore apart dozens of the attackers in seconds. Now the ground was being churned up around them by something else; less powerful but striking at a much higher cadence. Unworldly thunderous noise came from the direction of the smoky creature in the distance. Their curses had passed harmlessly through it, only for it to appear again and again undaunted. They didn't know how it was causing this carnage, only that the smoky creature was far more powerful than what they were equipped to handle. Those that were still alive began to disapparate in the face of certain death. Though they feared that Voldemort would punish them for their desertion, in this moment they feared the smoky creature far more.
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u/scott_hunts Oct 27 '18
I was wondering if someone would have an AC-130, your response will make a fine addition to my collection.
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u/RobboCoppo1 Oct 27 '18
Well it isn't quite NATO air support, but this idea got stuck in my mind and I thought it might be good to explore. Hope you enjoy it! In three parts because I got carried away.
The night breeze rustled through Harry’s hair as he stood in the window, surveying the horde below him. In spite of everything they’d done, the months of hardship, the losses of the evening’s battle, the strains and tests of the last seven years, Voldemort and his army were one easy walk away from victory. The dim light of morning illuminated the high-arched bridge that formed the last access point into Hogwarts. Littered with corpses, rubble and broken suits of armour, the Death Eaters has smashed through the last line of defences. And now they milled around, waiting the final command to advance across the bridge and overrun Hogwarts. On one side was his home, his friends, his family and on the other side were people that would delight in taking it all away from him. Nothing now stood in their path.
“Why don’t they just bloody finish it?!” hissed Ron, kicking the wall in frustration.
“He’s toying with us”, Hermione mumbled, “just like he always has done”.
Harry said nothing. Part of him was relieved it was over. He didn’t have to hide any more, he didn’t have to run. He’d given everything and it hadn’t been enough. In the courtyard below he’d watched as the Death Eaters fought their way across the bridge, firing spell after spell at them, trying to stem the tide. He’d watched McGonagall fall, silently crumpling after being hit but a jet of green sparks. Ron’s parents, fighting side by side had disappeared in a flash of light, leaving behind only two pairs of old, smouldering shoes. One by one they had fallen, until Harry ordered a retreat back inside the Entrance Hall. That was where they now stood, 15 survivors in the face of 15,000. There was nothing more they could do. The knowledge that his options were exhausted gave him a sense of calm, resignation to the inevitable. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling the fresh, morning air. He felt a hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of his dark serenity. He knew it was Ginnie, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. He grasped the hand on his shoulder and held it, tightly.
The Death Eaters were forming up now, preparing to make their final advance on the bridge. Harry gave Ginnie hand a final squeeze and released it, grasping his wand instead and drawing it from his pocket. He should say something, he thought. Something to steel their nerve, or to prepare them for death. But what. He inhaled and opened his mouth to speak.
“I can hear music”. Harry turned to look at Neville, who was now standing with his head cocked at an angle, eyes screw shut. They were all staring at him. “Yeh, I can definitely hear music!”, he said again.
“Oh you’ve finally lost it, Neville! Bloody brilliant”, Ron let out a humourless bark of laughter and turned back to face the window.
“No Ron he’s right”, Hermione said. “I can hear it too. It sounds like… classical music”.
“What’s that then?”, asked Ron turning away from the window again, “Some Muggle thing?”.
Before Hermione could answer, Seamus and Dean burst through a door at the end of the corridor.
“You’ll never believe what Seamus has done!”, Dean shouted, running towards them with a big smile on his face.
“I didn’t think it would work, but it bloody has!”. Seamus was ecstatic. “I could see them from the North Tower, they’re only about a minute away from us”.
“Who is, Seamus? What did you do?!”, asked Harry. His heart hammered in his chest. The hope radiating from Seamus and Dean sent a burst of adrenaline through his veins.
“Just you wait and see, Harry”. Seamus slapped him on the shoulder. “I’ve got a feeling this is going to be great, and we’ve got a front row seat”. He moved to the window, leaning against the stone frame with his arms folded smugly across his chest. Nervously, cautiously, the others crowded behind him.
“Just you all wait and see…”. The music was getting louder.
*****
“I’ll ask you again, Eagle Eye, where the fuck are we?”.
“Err… we’re not too sure, sir. It doesn’t look like jungle, Sir, I can see pine trees and mountains…”
“I goddamn know there are goddamn mountains out there, Captain! You’re supposed to have a handle on our fucking location, I advise you to work it out”. Lieutenant Colonel Kilgore slammed the radio transmitter back onto the control panel and took a breath. He could see mist drift out of his mouth as he exhaled. Where the fuck were they? He turned, with a grin on his face. “You hear that boys? Recon says there are mountains down there! Can y’all see any mountains?”. The men behind him laughed and smirked. “Gee Colonel, this sure don’t look like Vietnam!”, one of them shouted.
“No son, it does not”, Kilgore said quietly. He turned back to face the windscreen and tried to make sense of the situation. They’d been flying a mission up the coast into NVA territory. Simple flight from Da Nang, keeping the coast on their left. 60 kilometers, light the target up, drop some marines and fly home, coast on their right. He’d been flying missions like this for 15 years now, first in Korea and now in Vietnam.
But something had gone wrong. They’d just started their final approach on the target when, for a split second, it felt like his stomach was being pulled out of his belly button. A flash of white light, then they’d ended up here. Wherever here was. The sun wasn’t up yet, but the pre-dawn light illuminated grey stone mountains interspersed with vast, dense pine forest. He looked over his left shoulder and saw the rest of his company behind him. 15 helicopters, all laded with men waiting to hear his orders. Maybe they’d gone too far up the coast…
“This is Eagle Eye to Eagle Thrust, Eagle Eye to Eagle Thrust, over”.
Kilgore snatched up the transmitter. “Eagle Eye this is Eagle Thrust, you got a fix on our location yet? Over”.
“That’s a negative Eagle Thrust, but there’s some kind of structure on our two o’clock that you should see, heading 62 degrees. Over”.
Kilgore grabbed his binoculars with his spare hand and jammed them to his face.
“What the…”, he mouthed. “Any idea what that is, Eagle Eye?”.
“Looks like some kind of castle, Sir”.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph I think you’re right, Captain”. Kilgore blinked again and again, but every time he opened his eyes the image was the same. A castle, with crenulations and turrets, spires and halls with high eaves. “We are through the goddamn looking glass now…”.
‘Repeat your last, Colonel. Poor copy. Over”.
“Just keep your eyes open Eagle Eye, change course and head for that castle. Anything changes, you tell me before you tell yourself, copy?”
“Eagle Eye to Eagle Thrust, changing course and staying frosty. Out”. Ahead of their lead Huey, Eagle Eye banked to the right and aligned with the castle.
Pressing a switch on the control panel, Kilgore opened his transmissions to the rest of the company.
“Fox Company this is Thrust One. As you may have realised we are not in ‘Nam anymore. Recon is still working on our current location but for now we are heading for the structure to the south of us. Now I realise this is not a normal morning, but remember that we are the United States Air Cavalry, we are the First Team and we go anywhere we goddamn like! Now saddle up, prepare for anything and turn that goddamn music up!”.
*****
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u/RobboCoppo1 Oct 27 '18
“Oh man, this is just how I imagined it!”. Seamus was dancing on the spot. The music was audible now, however an underlying pulsing hum was growing in strength.
“Seamus mate, what exactly are they?”. Ron was staring up towards the mountains in the North, where a dozen or so green dots has just appeared and were getting larger and larger. The Death Eaters had noticed the newcomers as well and had turned away from the castle to stare up at the oncoming noise.
“Ah Ron, there’s this film about a muggle war we had way back…”.
“Film?”, asked Ron, but Seamus was in full flow.
“And there’s a scene in that film that is just iconic! I mean the whole film is good and the story’s great ‘n’ all, but by God that scene! I saw it when I was 11, my uncle had it on and let me watch it, so many explosions, man! And the music!”.
The air was pulsing now, getting louder and louder. Neville put his hands over his ears, but Seamus pulled them away. “You have to hear the music, mate!”, he shouted.
*****
“There’s a lot of people down there, Sir. Some of ‘em look like they’re… massive.”
“I see ‘em, Captain.” The recon unit had streamed ahead of the rest of the company and was now circling the crowd that were assembled outside the castle.
“They’re wearing robes Sir, some of ‘em. Some of ‘em are ugly, look like goblins or something… do we consider them hostile, Sir?”
“Negative, Eagle Eye. You just keep an eye on ‘em and wait for us to get there. We’ll set ourselves down and figure out just what the hell this is. Check out that castle as well, I don’t want any surprises down there when we land.”
Eagle Eye veared off, heading toward the castle. “Lots of bodies down there sir, the place has taken a beatin’. A few buildings are fucked, and there’s holes in all the roofs.”
“Anyone alive in there Captain?”
“Not that I can see, but I’ll keep on looking.”
“Roger that, Eagle Eye. We are ETA 20 seconds. Out.”
Eagle Eye circled back over the crowd of figures. Out of nowhere, red sparks shot up from the ground, hitting the tail rotor. A flame burst from Eagle Eye’s engine and the helicopter started to twirl out of the sky leaving a trail of smoke.
“Mayday mayday, I’m going in, crowd is hostile, I repeat crowd is – “. The plexiglass dome of the reconnaissance chopper hit the grass away from the crowd and bounced off down the hill towards a pine forest.
“God fucking dammit”. Killgore was squeezing the transmitter so hard the plastic started to flex. “all units take evasive, hostiles on the ground, light ‘em up, use what you got”.
The helicopter behind him split into two groups, one veering left and one veering right. More sparks were shoots for the ground now, but they were fizzling out before they reached Fox Company. The music swelled.
“Give ‘em hell kid”, Killgore looked over his shoulder at his port-side door gunner. Killgore watched as the teenager slid back the bolt on the .50 calibre machine gun in his hand, took a deep breath and pushed his trigger. 420 grams of metal every second slammed into the crowd below. Killgore could see people falling as the crowd began to disperse. The other helicopters began to open fire as well, the two groups formed a crossfire as they began to circle the castle grounds. Killgore watched as a giant got hit with machine gun fire, red dots blooming over its chest. The giant roared and lurched off toward the forest.
“Red One, that big bastard is heading your way, smoke him”.
A plume of flame and smoke shot out of the sky and slammed into the giant’s back. Killgore thought he could actually see the rocket sticking out of the giant before it exploded.
“Nice shooting Red One, owe you a case of beers for that one!”
“Any time Eagle Thrust, that thing’s blood got all the way up here! Splattered our windscreen”.
The radio was full of transmissions now.
“Got a group heading your way Blue 5, you’re in prime position”
“Look at these fuckers run man! They ain’t even fighting back”.
“They’re heading for the bridge, cut ‘em off”.
The ground was dark with craters and bodies, the sky was full of helicopters swarming like wasps, the air was thick with metal and fire. Killgore smiled. I didn’t matter where he ended up, his boys always did the job. 40 seconds after Eagle Eye had hit the deck, Killgore gave the order to cut the music and to cease fire.
*****
Harry stood, aghast at what he was seeing. Growing up he’d seen news stories, burnt out cities in far flung places, smiling soldiers sticking their flag on a building and waving their helmets. But he’d never seen anything like this. They all stood, open mouthed as an inferno had erupted in front of them. One minute, they had been staring down thousands of death eaters, the next, there was… nothing. Harry had thought he’d seen Voldermort, shielded by his loyalist followers get shredded by machine gun fire, his robes ripped off his body as his limbs were blasted off him. He’d seen a group try and run for the bridge before disappearing in a ball of fire. Six people replaced by a blacked bloody crater. Even Seamus has stopped dancing.
And then, as quickly as the inferno had started, it stopped. Silence. A smell of burnt earth and hot metal, the metallic scent of blood and the sweet smell of burnt flesh. As Harry’s ears grew accustomed to the quiet, he started to hear the cried and the scream from the castle grounds.
“Bloody hell”, stammered Ron. Neville turned away from the window and wretched violently, doubling over. Hermione stood silently, a tear running down her face.
Dean looked at Seamus. “Was that part of your plan, mate?”.
“I… I guess so”, he replied. He looked almost sheepish.
Harry stayed silent as he watched the helicopters form up and begin to descend. One of them was headed for the courtyard just in front of the building they were in.
“I guess we better go and say hello”, Harry said grimly. Without waiting for the other to follow him, he headed down the stairs to the ground floor.
*****
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u/RobboCoppo1 Oct 27 '18
Eight riflemen jumped out of the chopper and formed a perimeter, all facing outwards.
“Leave the rotors idling”, Killgore told the pilot, “we might have to leave here in a hurry”.
He opened his door and jumped out of the Huey. Leaning back through the door he grabbed his hat and jammed it on his head. The dark blue Stetson made him feel like himself again. The gold brocade danced in the wash from the rotor blades. He stood, hands on hips and he waited for the rest of his men to join him in the courtyard. He surveyed the scene around him. Toppled statues and ruined masonry. Scorch marks on the walls and blood pooled on the floor. It was like any other battle aftermath he’d seen, but some of the statues were wearing pointed hats and holding twigs. A few of the bodies in the courtyard were wearing dark robes as well and shoes that he’d never seen before. He still couldn’t understand what had just happened.
“Colonel Killgore Sir, I’ve brought four squads into the courtyard with me, sir”. Killgore turned to see one of his subordinates standing rigidly to salute, clearly trying hard to not stare at their bizarre surroundings.
“Very good, Captain. The others?”
“Two platoons have formed a perimeter outside the castle sir and are gathering the wounded, Johnson’s platoon are looking for Eagle Eye’s crash site”.
“Good work, Captain. Now form your men up, I want you to search this whole damn place and see if we can…”.
He abruptly stopped talking and pulled out the Colt revolver from his holster.
“Just stop right there, son”, he said as authoritatively as her could muster.
From behind him he heard the sound of two dozen M16s being cocked.
He pointed his pistol at the boy in front of him, a boy with scruffy black hair and broken glasses. For a few seconds they were silent, examining each other. Very slowly, Killgore lowered him firearm.
‘What the hell is this place?”.
“This is Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. My name is Harry Potter. My friends are in there”. Harry pointed at the door where he’d came from. His brain felt like it was on fire. The emotion and effort of the last few hours had left him drained and he was struggling to comprehend what was in front of him.
“Well, we don’t want to hurt your friends, son. Why don’t you bring them out here?”. Hesitantly, Harry turned to leave.
“Hey wait a second!” Killgore shouted. Harry stopped and turned to face him. “What did you say the place was called?”.
“Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry”.
“…Right. And errr, where in the world is this school? Which country?”.
“Well, no one’s too sure, but somewhere in the United Kingdom, probably Scotland”.
Killgore’s mouth fell open… Scotland.
He gathered himself.
“Okay kiddo, go and get your friends”.
He turned back to his Captain. “Did you hear that Rodriguez? We’re in fucking Scotland.”
“I heard him Sir. How are we going to get back to Da Nang?”.
“I have no goddamn idea Captain. But I do know one thing”.
“Sir?”.
“There ain’t no goddamn surfing in Scotland!”.
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u/Bathe_in_the_gore Oct 26 '18
Joey and Ralphie never wanted to attend Hogwarts. They never wanted to go to stupid England. And they didn't want to end up in a stupid battle, about stupid England, in stupid Hogwarts.
Joey was particularly not keen at patrolling the edge of the Castle, even if it was with his best friend. The pitch black of night and didn't comfort the fact that they we're surrounded by enemies.
Ralphie on the other hand was estactic. Jubilant about the whole situation. Ralphie wanted to follow in his Father's footsteps from a young age. To go be a Frogman back home in the states. Doing high-speed missions involving danger, and things that went boom. Instead he ended up buried waist deep in old stuffy books, halfway around the world. Living day in day out between classes, and practicing the magic his mother had "blessed" him with.
"Holy hell, that's a lot of baddies, man." Joey leaned over the castle wall from their posts in circling the court yard. Far in the distance, like fireflies lighting up the cool night. Ralphie, breaking from a daydream about war fighting, got up from the cool stone to look see what all his friend was talking about.
Ralphie, gazing into the distance now, said the first thing that popped into his mind. "You know, they're all clustered up in that forest, and I would like to say that's not tactical at all." And for someone like Joey, who knew little magic, the threat of Death Eaters heavily outweighed "tactics" that his pal was rambling about.
"You don't get it, Ralph. Those guys. Those guys out there want to kill us. They want to kill all of us, for that jackass with the scar on his face." and Joey pleaded that, trying to get Ralphie to see what grave danger they we're in. They were both in over their heads. Since they we're little it's been like this, and maybe it was Ralhpie's muggle side showing.
Ralhpie's Father had worked with Joey's a long time ago. While Ralphie's dad had been a U.S. Navy Seal, Joey's had been a jeweller who helped people fix broken stones. While be it illegal for his use of magic, he was providing a good service in his mind, and feeding his family. The funny thing was, that Ralphie's mother had spotted the use of magic on the broken jewel though when it came back to her. While Jewelry repair is a common enough profession, magic in the Bulliet County, Kentucky was another thing entirely.
After the confrontation and later tongue lashing that Ralphie's mom had given his father. Joey's family became oddly close to the mixed breeding family in the states. Who would of thought they would have a son the exact same age?
Ralhpie's knew that they were in deep. Yes. That the situation was dire. And that He and Joey we're probably going to die far away from home. But Ralphie had always been a dreamer. Had always pursued unreasonable goals, and had always thought outside the box. Today would be no different.
"Hey, Joey. What was that spell that Harry was trying to teach everyone, like two or three movies ago?"
"Uhhh, I didn't watch that one, man." Said Joey with a blank face, even though he knew it by heart. "The Patronus spell." and with that, a light flickered in Ralhpie's eyes. A wicked smile glazed across his face, and that manic gaze pierced Joey to his soul. "What have I done?"
Ralhpie's proceeded to tell Joey his plan. Lacing the details with profanities and graphic information that made him want to hurl. While the plan sounded like it would work. They both barely knew any magic, never the less even have the concept of a patronus down. "Don't worry, man." Ralhpie's said with a smile. "I've got this."
Stepping up onto the walls, Ralphie aimed his wand at the forest, and taking a deep breath clearer his throat."Ah-hem. Accio.. NATO fire support!"
Joey didn't k would what to expect. Whether a rain of bombs would drop. Or if fighter jets would wiz by. But nothing happened. And with a deep exasperated sigh, Joey slumped up against the wall and held his head in his hands. "It's useless." He said. "That would never work. I knew it." And then Ralphie sat down beside him. Cursing himself. "Something is off. Maybe I said it wrong. Ugh." He started wagging his wand and muttering things.
"Accio NATO fire support... Ground support... OH! I said the wrong word" he popped up quickly and Joey sgazed at him as he pointed his wand towards the forest and confidently said. "Accio NATO AIR SUPPORT!" With a pop and snap, his wand contorted into a walkie talkies looking device with a heavy looking backpack attachment.
Ralhpie's was mesmerized by the thing to say the least. Joey couldn't stand the silence anymore and goaded Ralphie. "Go on, it's your spell." with that Ralphie snapped out of it and walked up to the little hand held part of the device and and depressed the button on the side.
"Can anyone hear me out there?" Ralphie spoke hesitantly into the mic. After a few seconds a voice broke through.
CG 66 USS HUE CITY, SOMEWHERE IN THE NORTH ATLANTIC...
FC2 Crawford didn't mind the 02-07 watch up in combat. It was a late watch so he was up eat Mid Rats at the galley, and got off at breakfast. Plus his sleep schedule almost ran through every general quarters drill, so he never had to participate in that. The 02-07 treated him well.
His console displayed little dots on maps as he sat there looking into the screen. The upper left hand corner of his display showed a green gridded box, representing magazines full of missiles that would likely never be shot. Everything was going smoothly. He was hoping that the galley still had eggs after his relief came to take his spot at the console.
What FC2 failed to see was the slow movement of the Salvo warning alarm. Moving on its own as if an invisible hand were twirling it.
What he didn't miss however, was the warning alarms droning on the skin of the ship as the hatches to the missile cells opened. FC2 didn't miss the mission plans racing across his screen, being approved before he could do anything to stop it. All the safety's had failed. All the things in place to stop this exact thing from happening had suddenly stopped working. And with that he watched as the little grid of green slowly demisnishing. First salvo was 25. Next salvo size jumped to 30. The mic in his ear exploded with chatter. More missiles were leaving. Going off wherever they felt within 1000 nautical miles.
He finally heard what the comms were saying. 100 tomahawks. They had launched 100 Delta's into The UK.
The comm in Ralhpie's hand seemed to come to life in his hand. Speaking in a staticy language. "Pointy hat, Eagles nest. What's your location?"
"Umm, Hogwarts, sir." Even Ralphie was shocked this was working, and that had Joey worried. Whoever was on the other side didn't seem to either notice or care, and quickly replied, "Hogwarts aye, Indigo is a go and Eagle's are spun. ETA 0645. Danger close, Danger close."
And with that the radio sent a few spikes and the whole thing popped out of existence. The two boys took a quick look at one another and ran.
Lieutenant Commander Morris had a funny feeling come over him as he started diverting from his flight pattern. He was supposed to land on the southern most point of England with the payload he'd been tasked to carry back from Syria. He and his co-pilot Lt. Reevs both seemed to zone as they guided their AC-130 north.
In the back, 42,000 lbs of high explosive ordinance was mounted at the ready, and a zombiefied flight crew prepared the sensor and weapons for engagement.
Ralphie and Joey stood atop of the hills just outside of Hogwarts looking down at the castle close. Joey turned to Ralphie, finally asking the burning question he had on his mind the whole time they we're running. "Shouldn't we have told someone?"
Ralphie looked at Joey, and answered . "We didn't have enough time." He lied. He knew they could have told them all to run, but the death eaters would have made chase, then it would have been for nothing. No.. the hardest choices require the hardest wills.
They stood at the hill, watching an early sunrise breach the horizon. "what time is it?" Asked Joey, looking towards Ralphie's watch.
"I don't kn-" Ralphie was cut off by the deafening roar as missiles rained from the sky, flying in a low arch over the horizon and fracturing apart into smaller parts, carpeting the forest and castle with fire and smoke. A shock wave visibly rushed from the epicenter and raced towards them. Joey dove and knocked over Ralphie bringing them both to the ground as the shockwave leveling the surrounding trees, and sending a few flying from their roots.
Joey went to stand up to look down in the valley again, but another rush of missiles and bomblettes fell. Increasing the ever higher pitched ringing in his ears.
Eventually they we're both able to look at what remained, if they could even call it that. All of the Castle and surrounding forest was gone. All that told of the castles former location was the burnt rubble laying in heaps over the crater that was the valley.
Silently, another object fell from the sky, this time high enough and slow enough so that the two boys could see it. It was a 2 ton pallet of High yield, plastic explosives. Lightweight, easy to handle, and good for clearing out forests. As well as making sure that the bad guys are dead, and everything else within a 2 mile radius.
The explosion was brighter than the sun that had just risen before them. In fact, when they we're much older, they would joke how if they would've just turned around they wouldn't have been left blinded. The sad part is there is only one person who lived to tell the tale of how it looked, but that person's tongue melted along with half of their lungs. A result of the air around them catching fire after the blast.
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u/bigbird505 Oct 26 '18
Major Hopkins knew he was a good damn pilot. He'd had one of the most successful streak of missions since 'Nam, and was one of the last ace's to boot. So, he wondered, how in the hell had he ended up overseeing a small predator drone command? Half his damn enlisted boys wouldn't ever qualify to fly anything, and the other half were too busy playing videogames in their spare time to even bother. Why risk hopping in the cockpit when you can fly what you want from half a world away?
Not for the first time, he remembered where it all went wrong. It was supposed to be a simple observation mission. Fly in fast and quiet, take a picture or two of whatever new thing the Soviets were building, fly back home to Lossiemouth, simple. Except everything went tits up over Norway. The spook boys had plotted a course through a series of mountain valleys where they said the Soviets hadn't placed any radar coverage. And now I know why, he thought. He had just started the low approach when the radar started reading multiple incoming unknowns, not a match with any planes we knew about. Too slow and too big to be missiles, too many to be anything but hostile. His stealth already gone, he hit the burners and ran like hell itself was chasing him. His first mission failure.
At the mission debriefing, the spooks came and took the tape before anyone saw. Told him that he didn't see anything. He told them he was too focused on his radar and getting out of there, to which they said, "Good, be sure you don't remember anything." A little late, he figured. Even now, he still remembered the teeth.
Now here he was, commanding his small band of misfits in the modern Air Force, career having gone into a tailspin since he heard "Good." Stationed at the same damn base since that mission too, his wife long gone for sunnier climes saying something about the Scottish sogginess being depressing. He hadn't even touched a plane since that mission, and now, plateaued at Major, he was little more than a phone jockey.
Speaking of which, there was a phone ringing right now. To his surprise, it wasn't one one of the normal ones. He answered, heart pounding. The voice on the other side said, "Major? Good. You've done a great job not remembering. That said, we're in a tight spot right now, and we have a support mission for you. Your planes are entering the airspace now. You'll know whose side you're on. And remember, or rather, don't."
“Sir? We’ve got a… a situation?” Turning around, he saw one of the enlisted men whose name he never remembered. Wordlessly, he followed back to the monitoring room, where even he was startled to see the change. The screens that normally showed the endless dry hills and the dusty villages of their normal AOR in Wherethefuckistan had been replaced with tall pine trees and lakes. Or lochs, he corrected himself. Probably lochs.
In the distance, there was an… well, the tech boys would probably call it an “anomaly”. He was more direct and thought of it as a castle. Only, it was two castles. That flickered. The first was tall and spired, the second, crumbling more than the Caernarfon ruins he had seen back when touring the countryside with his former wife. Both castles were surrounded by a bright glow that pulsed with static on the monitors.
“Sir? What’s going on? Do we have orders?” All of his command looked at him in askance, knowing full well he had just gotten off THAT phone. Too bad for them he had only the foggiest of what was going on, but he hadn’t gotten where he was now by being uncertain in the face of uncertainty.
“I’m told we’re on a support mission nothing more than that. What am I looking at? Also, whose flying these things?” he barked. Discipline reminded, if not restored, he quickly found out that their whole wing was in the air. A full eight missile armed drones, and two extended flight surveillance vehicles. The fact that they were thousands of miles away from their normal AOR quickly became unimportant as the screens resolution became clearer.
“What the hell am I looking at?” he asked again, of no one in particular. While the normal screens were almost blotted out by static from the dome, the infrared drones showed what could best be described as chaos. Colossal humanoid figures colder than the ambient temperature could be seen swinging even colder clubs, sending smaller, ambient temperature human figures surrounded by a slight static aura in the air with each blow. In the forest, human figures moved faster than was possible, and glowed bright with heat. And all over, hot balls of static flew and impacted in even more static on the dome.
“Uh, sir, you know how you mentioned I shouldn’t ever talk about my DND games?” an enlisted ventured. This was met with a stare and a raised eyebrow, but he wasn’t dissuaded. “I think those tall ones are frost giants, see how big and how cold they are? I lost my bard to one last week and had to reroll. Eaten.” This was interrupted by a shout from one of the monitors.
A bright line was connecting with the dome, crackling even on the IR monitors. “Follow that back,” he ordered. The line, it seemed, was coming from a single, cold figure surrounded by normal temperature humans on a hillside. There was a flash, and then the dome disappeared. “Bloody hell, Sir. Those are kids in there!” shouted one of the men, visible spectrum of the castle restored.
“Well, I guess I know what side we’re on. Never been a big fan of being eaten,” he said aloud. “Lord knows I came too damn close,” he added silently. “One, Two, you bring the heat on those big guys. See how Frosty likes the taste of hellfire. Three, Four, hit those targets in the woods. Five, see what you can do to find whatever that was on the hill side and take it down a peg. Six, Seven and Eight, you’re in reserve. Eyes one, get me a big picture. Two, circle around the castle, make sure we’re not flanked. Lock your targets but wait for my command to fire.”
The sound of sudden, deafening explosions echoed through the halls of the castle. Hermione gave a small nod and a little smile. “See, accio Air Support. Told you it would work.”
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4
Oct 26 '18
Harry stands silent in the wake of the explosion, not knowing what happened. He said a spell that Hermione told him may work, but he didn’t expect this. The wave of fire overtook the Death Eater army in seconds, turning most into ash.
Voldemort stood, terribly burnt, but alive despite the explosion being directed at him. The roar of the bomb destroyed his ears, face, and the army he wielded.
Harry watched as the explosion charged at him with never before seen speed and destructive power. Hermione screamed for her friends to run, but nobody heard and half the remaining kids were engulfed in flame. Hermione ran away along with harry and a few others, barely escaping the fire.
After a week, the ground was still dead and the schools attendants began to slowly lose hair. The Death Eaters remained painted into the earth near ground zero.
Harry began to realize what he had done, and nearly broke down at lunch that day. The headmaster announced that the spell was now banned and gave a speech about the true might of the muggles.
Weeks passed, and the muggles began coming near the school and they were carrying strange equipment. One tried began walking up to the campus and the magical barrier slowly died away, revealing a school that had just gotten hit by a nuclear device.
Harry came out to confront the men, and was met with rifles pointing at his face. One man was hit by a green beam of light and fell dead immediately. The other soldiers jumped back, one calling something in on a radio and the other keeping his gun trained on Harry.
The men began to run away and soon reached a safe distance, Harry following. The sky began to roar, a roar so terrible and angry that people thought the sky was going to explode. The roar kept getting louder and the men covered their ears. The roar was a cacophony that pierced the ears of every person in the school. The roar crescendoed and finally reached the peak, and two fast moving wedges flew by the school and dropped bombs.
The school was engulfed in fire and the building was unseeable for nearly a minute, the smoke barely clearing. Harry fell to his knees, what had he started, and the two men radioed in, “Dark Lord, you will be pleased with the news”
this was not my universe, Harry Potter isn’t my property, I simply wrote a story in the universe that is not canon at all
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6
Oct 26 '18
First story here: filled with errors, misquotes and timeline perversions. Pulled some random google info on Nato terms as wel. And used BSG terms for battle thingies. Please don't flame this too much.
Magic works in mysterious ways. Unbridled energy given shape by wands and constructs. Calculations and expectations in the forms of spells.
But when a witch or wizard is in mortal danger, instinct takes over. A spell that should not make any sense can become a weapon of mass destruction.
The heart gives shape to the deepest desire and survival makes for desperate hearts indeed.
Who uttered the spell is still unknown. There is even a theory that a collective consciousness gave the spell and its ramifications its shape.
Without the human born wizards and witches the spell certainly wouldn't have worked.
The battle for Hogwarts and yes, the whole wizarding world, was not going well for it's stalwart defenders.
The so called Death eaters were too great in number and their leader invincible due to magical defences impervious to conventional breaking methods.
The magical shield erected by the most gifted of the defenders was nothing less then a work of art. A work of art currently at its breaking point.
Despair had a hold on the hearts of the defenders. Someone spoke the spell, at the precise time the shield starting breaking.
A conclave of wild magic hurled around. Energy's and intentions, hopes, dreams, fears and nightmares formed the spell.
It was guided by the words itself: Accio Nato Air Support. But it did so much more.
Dumbledore continued his explanation. You see, Harry, magic is not a means to an end, it is a force of nature that we shape. If we fail to shape it, it takes that duty upon itself.
In this case it enabled a non-magic organisation to send its available airborne forces into an area that normally is inaccessible.
It negated al of Hogwarts defences to ward off non magical beings. What it didn't do, Harry, was summon a random host of these machines and warriors out of thin air.
The spell, destructive as it was, turned out to be much more subtle. It even altered time and space to a certain degree.
Magic can do a great number of things. Summoning a NATO taskforce and enabling natural forces ,like gravity to keep these airships airborne, probably was too strenuous a task. Instead it turned to the non-magical’s NATO high Command and, altered a few minor details…
Lossiemouth NATO AIRBASE Command and Information Centre, during the deployment phase of the Hogwarts defences.
Commander Bixley was curious, there had been unexplained shifts in the atmosphere the past year. And a lot of changes appeared above and around the strange castle designated Threat One. Surely these idiot magic folk weren’t fucking around too much to actually change the entire bloody climate. Then again, spot of sun would be welcome. The tasked spy satellites weren’t showing much visual change from the status quo. These “dementors” were still floating around. They didn’t prove too much of a hassle if you were carrying a flame thrower with a bit of range. As the boys and girls from prevention were proving downstairs. The blighters didn’t even seem to be fully sentient, more akin to predators. Such like wolves, feeding on your positive emotions.
Bixley reminded himself that the real threat came from the mutants. It was a wonder these “wizards and witches” actually thought they had remained hidden all these years. The whole reason behind NATO was to secretly study and protect its member states from the wars these people fought among one another.
From what Bixley understood it was all a bit of a race war. Mixing mutant purebloods versus a live and let live principle. Like the Americans White Supremacists had against the black, gay and anything other then themselves community. “Absolute bloody rubbish if you ask me” Bixley muttered out loud. “What’s that sir?”
a recent transfer, Thompson asked. “Nothing, Ensign, just wondering why people all over the place are this bloody stupid”. “I gather, you’re referring to those Death Eaters sir? They seem to be gaining traction all over the world, so they do. At what point to we start to intervene, sir, looking at the intel we get it is already out of hand. Their British governing body seems to be under their complete control”.
Thompson was a recent addition to CIC World Shield, but not the first to ask the question.
Bixley sighed: “Rule number four of the NATO World Shield accords, intervention only happens when and if specifically requested, due to recognition of the sovereign groups governing bodies, we should be glad these Death Eaters are unaware of these accords, Thompson. Or they might very well have asked for our support instead. SIGINT intercepts say they are indeed in complete control”.
He turned back to the screen with the visuals. Black, white and grey tones showed the terrain where not much was happening. Until there was.
The castle seemed ablaze with lights. “Thompson, what happened with Target SCAR-1?”. Thompson didn’t look away from her screen while replying: “Rejoined with RED-1 and BOOK-1 and entered the castle ten hours ago, seems to be mounting a pretty decent resistance in Threat One”.
Bixley smiled but suppressed the emotion as soon as it appeared: “let’s not get our hopes up, lass. We thought the battle in London would have been enough to quell these upstarts”. He reached for his basewide channel and called out: “Base on alert condition two, I repeat, all assets to go to full readiness and prepare for launch”.
Thompson looked sideways at Bixley as claxons started to sound and orange lights activated throughout the base. “What are we doing here sir, no request has been received”. Bixley turned his attention back to the screen. “I got one of my hunches, Thompson, things might start happening pretty quickly now”.
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Oct 26 '18
Part II
As Bixley refocuses on the screen multiple things start happening. Three targets marked as HVT’s somehow start to generate a shield with insane power readouts. But outside of that perimeter targets start appearing. “Thompson, tighten surveillance on Threat One. I want full audio intercepts. And get me a count on those targets! Where the hell did they come from anyway!” “The forest, sir”.
“The forest, off course it’s the fucking forest, I hate that forest. No reading has ever been correct out of that forest”. Randalph responded from behind his station: “Jeez, Bix we keep telling ya, them there spiders were actually over 4 meters”. Bixley started shouting now: “NO SPIDER IS THAT BIG, I HAVE BEEN IN AUSTRALIA AND SEEN THEIR SPIDERS AND I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THEY CAN GET ANY BIGGER now shut up and give me that audio on speakers!”
Thompson called out: “bogies from the forest are 1100 and counting, sir, monitoring says mutants of greater length have been spotted as well”.“Damn it all, I know why they are gathering. It’s a siege! Keep monitoring and GET ME THAT AUDIO!”
Minutes passed, hours passed. The build-up of forces seemed to be complete.
Audio intercepts from the castle painted a desperate picture. Almost every able wizard and witch in the country had gathered to defend the castle and it would not be enough by far.Then the lightshow started, every death eater firing their fracas at that shield. Thompson called out the energy reading from the shield and it seemed to be holding. Then the leader of the Death Eaters made a move.
Audio was live. The scream, the anger in that… man was horrifying. Thompson called out that the shield was failing. Audio from castle was screams and garbles. Audio from the Death Eaters a terrifying roar as they ran towards the castle.Everyone in CIC was silent. Completely focused. Concentrating on the situations on the screen. Bixley closed his eyes. A tear forming in its corner. Nothing to be done, this is their end. He turned around and started to walk away when he heard it. ….Io…TO… ort…
He turned back and listened to the crackling voice barely coming through. …Ccio NATO… ire…rt.
He practically barked at Thompson: “Isolate that transmission!”
Thompson grabbed her headphone and started pounding at her keyboard while slowly turning the dials.
She looked up in triumph and amazement: “Got it, and sir, you are not going to believe this”. She rammed down on the transfer keyBixley looked at the speaker and heard it: “Accio, NATO fire support. Please… Please….. Accio NATO fire support…”
Bixley looked at Thompson, furious: “Ensign, does that sound like a governing body requesting aid to you?” Thompson looked at the commander, a bit startled at what she saw. The commander flashed a predatory smile and blazed fire out of his eyes. “Because it sure as all seven hells sounds like it to me” Bixley picked up the receiver and roared for the entire base: “SET ALERT CONDITION ONE, SCRAMBLE ALL ASSETS AND PREPARE FOR TARGETING SOLUTIONS, PRIORITY ON FAST MOVERS FOR CLOSE SUPPORT, REMEMBER THIS DAY PEOPLE, WE ARE ABOUT TO RAIN HELL ON THE BIGGEST BASTERDS OF THE LAST FIFTY ODD YEARS”…
Dumbledore looked at Harry as he explained further. “Magic simply created a situation wherein the spell could work. This man… Bixley. He is nowhere to be found. Scene Auroring suggests that he might even have been a physical embodiment of a Patronus spell, placed back in time to make a career and ensure the full working of the spell. A curious event indeed”. “I still had to die of course”, Harry replied. “Being a piece of the Horcrux”.
“Yes Harry, but if you so desire, you could probably board a train….On. And remember,
Help will always be given to those at Hogwarts to those who ask and deserve it”.
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u/Ash4337 Oct 26 '18
It was horrific, the Death Eaters were prepared for all out wizarding war, not this. The were about to charge into battle when they heard a terrifying sound. Fortunate Son by Creedance Clearwater. Somehow the pupils of Hogwarts had summoned the wrong air support. Before the Death Eaters could retaliate they were destroyed, not even the almighty Voldemort could withstand being carpet bombed by napalm.
7
Oct 26 '18
This! Beautiful visual! And audioporn!
"I love the smell of napalm in the morning. Smells like.... victory".
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u/throwaway-milk Oct 26 '18
DISCLAIMER: I am not the best writer. I don't know how to make a story flow well or provide commentary. What I do know is military terminology and I know that I would get excited to read a story that employs what I think is realistic calls and NATO tech-wank so I figured at least one other person would as well. Thanks for reading
Out of no where, the Forward Air Controller with call sign "Twisting" finds himself in a castle surrounded by murmuring teenagers and adults.
"What the-"
"We need your help. An assault is underway and a student had the idea to summon a muggle military to assist. Follow me"
Twisting, still dazed from the teleportation, follows.
"Sorry, can you get me up to speed on this? One second I am in the Nevada desert, and now I don't see any sand anywhere"
"You are in England right now. We used a spell to get you here. Right now I need you to use your powers to destroy the Death Eaters that are coming. The entrance is right over here"
Twisting decides that he can talk to his commander about this later. Right now it sounds like he needs to use his training for an actual combat mission. He finds a cluster of rocks to the left and wedges himself into a keyhole to stay safe from any fire. The standard FAC loadout contains a SOFLAM laser marker, a grenade launcher with 15 smoke grenades of various colour, 5 IR strobes, 20 pounds worth of long range radios and an M4 Assault Rifle. Scanning the horizon with the SOFLAM, Twisting finds a group of about 1300 people sitting in the forest 2 kilometers south of the castle. While looking at the cluster attempting to find a weapon on any of them, an explosion hits the wall to the right of the entrance. The group starts running toward the castle. A call comes in on the radio.
"Twisting this is Hawg 1-5 checking in with you. Flight of two A-10s holding south 20 miles at Angels 10. 1 + 00 time on station. Loaded with CBU-97s with 1200 rounds a piece"
"Roger copy all, we are located on the south side of the castle marked by IR stobe"
"Afirm. Understand you are east of the entrance. I have tonnes of infantry and IR strobes at that location"
"Thats affirmative. I need you to push 30 klicks south and engage an infantry assault"
"Hawg 1-5 copies. We're pushing"
Explosions dominate the soundscape, the stone walls breaking apart as the enemy approach.
"Hawg 1-5, Twisting. Type 1 in effect. Advise when ready for 9 line"
"Hawg 1-5 ready to copy"
"Lines are as follows: IP Diamond Heading 194 Distance is 5.2 kilometres from you Elevation 1000 feet above sea level 1300 infantry in the open Grid November Quebec 572 895 Marked by laser with code 0553 Friendlies are south 1800 meters. Position marked by IR strobe Egress west"
"Hawg 1-5, 1000 feet, November Quebec 572 895"
"Hawg 1-5, read back correct, say when ready for remarks"
"Hawg 1-5 ready for remarks"
"Hawg 1-5, remarks: Wind 035 at 3. Request guns. Troops in contact"
"Hawg 1-5, copy remarks"
Twisting lases the infantry with the invisible Infrared Laser. Although the incoming fire is immense, they seem to have not found his hiding place. They have no clue what is awaiting
"Twisting, Hawg 1-5 we can't find your laser, ready for talk on"
"Hawg 1-5 red smoke out"
Twisting fires red smoke from his grenade launcher, landing about 200 meters in front of him.
"Contact red smoke"
"Next to the smoke is a path heading north to south. Call contact"
"Contact"
"Follow that path south for 500 meters, you should see a forest to the east of it. Call contact"
"Contact"
"200 meters west, infantry in the open. Call contact"
"Contact"
"Infantry is your targets"
"Hawg 1-5, Captured"
"Hawg 1-5, Twisting. Cleared inbound"
Twisting has never actually seen combat. He heard stories from Desert Storm and how the aircraft dominated the Iraqis. The only fire support he has called in were on scraps of metal somewhere in the Nevada desert. To say he was excited is an understatement
"Hawg 1-5 is wings level"
"Hawg 1-5, cleared hot"
"Guns, guns, guns"
The first thing that happens when the A-10 fires it's main gun is the tracer stream. The bullets coming out have a phosphorus trail that make them seem to touch each other. Each packed with 20 pounds of explosives ready to fuck someones day up. The impacts follow, the crackling from each bullet sounds like a fire in the distance. The last thing is what all air force personnel love. The sound of the main gun on the A-10 can only be defined as God himself smiting the earth. Watching the light show, Twisting sees that the infantry is seemingly unfazed by this show of force. More aircraft check in
"Twisting Suds 2-1 checking in with you. Flight of two F-18s holding east 10 miles at angels 22. Ordinance to follow. 4 GBU-12s 2 Mk-77 Napalm canisters and 600 rounds for the section. 0 + 35 Time on station. Ready for your work"
"Twisting copies. Do you see the castle?"
"Suds 2-1 thats affirmative"
"We are located just east of the entrance marked by IR strobes"
"Suds 2-1 has visual your position"
"Roger, I'd like you to push 15 kilometres west and get your LITENING pod on the infantry"
"Suds copies, pushing"
The F-18s are a powerful tool. They are as multi-role as they come, and as such they have an array of weapons. This particular flight has 4 laser guided 500 pound bombs as well as 2 gravity-powered napalm bombs. They also have a optical sensor attached which allows them to see for as far as the weather permits.
"Twisting, Misfit 1-3 checking in with you. Flight of two Apaches holding east 3 miles at Angels 2. 0 + 20 time on station. We have 8 Thermobaric Hellfires, 28 Hydras, and 1200 rounds per bird"
"Roger Misfit 1-3. Do you copy our position at the castle?"
"Yeah, affirm. We see infantry with IR strobes"
"affirmative, push 4 klicks northwest and get eyes on the enemy assault"
The thermobaric AGM-114N Hellfires are the prime person-killing weapon. When it detonates millions of aluminium fragments explode to fill the space. That is followed up by the actual fire which ignites each fragment and effectively sucks the air from the targets lungs. The assault is still underway and is closing, and although Hawg 1-5 has been doing work this will change the pace of the battle. So far it has been 40 minutes since Twisting was teleported to the castle, and the assault has lost 500 people.
"Misfit 1-3, Twisting. Advise when ready for 5 line"
"Misfit 1-3 ready to copy"
"Misfit 1-3, Twisting. 5 line, type 1. Request hellfires My position TRP Cola, marked by IR strobe. Target location bearing 040 magnetic, 400 meters Infantry in the open, marked by fire in the field. Egress east, danger close" "Misfit 1-3, egress east, target marked by fire in the field, danger close. Time on target 70 seconds"
"Misfit 1-3, Twisting. Read back correct"
"Misfit 1-3 wings level"
"Misfit 1-3 cleared hot"
"Missile away"
The Hellfires streak across the sky. You can't actually see them after their motor stops, but Twisting has thermal imaging in his SOFLAM. He tracks the missiles until they hit their targets. Each one hit a large cluster, creating upwards of 30 casualties each. The enemy, noticing that they have been obliterated by overwhelming fire power, start to rout. After seeing the weapons employed in this battle by the wizards, Twisting doesn't want to allow a counter attack and decides to attack the retreating infantry.
"Suds 2-1, Twisting. Type 1 in effect. Advise when ready for 9 line"
"Suds 2-1 ready to copy"
"Lines are as follows: IP Diamond Heading 350 Distance is 10.2 kilometres Elevation 1300 feet above sea level 100 infantry in the open Grid November Quebec 572 900 Marked by tracer Friendlies are south 1300 meters. Position marked by IR strobe Egress west" "Suds 2-1, 1300 feet, November Quebec 572 900"
"Suds 2-1, read back correct, say when ready for remarks"
"Suds 2-1 ready for remarks"
"Suds 2-1, remarks: Wind 035 at 3. Request Mk-77 Napalm"
"Suds 2-1, copy remarks"
The battle has lasted around an hour, and Twisting has realised that he hasn't fired his weapon. Knowing that he has tracer only ammunition available, he decides to get funky with this next CAS call.
"Twisting, Suds 2-1 ready for talk on"
"Suds 2-1 follow tracers"
"Contact tracers"
"On tracers enemy infantry retreating"
"Contact"
"That's your target"
"Suds 2-1, Captured"
"Suds 2-1, Twisting. Cleared inbound"
"Suds 2-1 wings level"
"Suds 2-1, cleared hot"
"Suds 2-1, pickle"
The napalm canister releases. The napalm impacts the ground, and spread to the retreating infantry. This battle was short lived, and although magic was in play it seems like Muggle technology has surpassed the best spells available. All in all, it turns out that 40 of the original assault of 1600 live, and Twisting was responsible for 1300 of them. Twisting and the aircraft he controlled get their memories wiped and they return to the USA.
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u/d1rtyd0nut Oct 26 '18
This is really great, I loved reading it. Also the writing was very good and it was very thrilling. I guess that might be because you didn't take any unnecessary "risks" that turned out awkward/terrible, because you know that you're not a master-writer?
Regardless, very good entry and I'm just rambling along and don't really know what the point of this comment was
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Oct 26 '18
Man, This as an audiochapter with correct effects (like I now picture and hear it in my head) could make money. Should make money! Now Imma need 15 min to... settle down. Man do I love this prompt and the people responding!
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u/Sylfaemo Oct 26 '18
Don't sweat the disclaimer man, I liked it a lot! People need to know how much information can be packed into so little words during comms.
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u/scott_hunts Oct 26 '18
Looks great to me, i love the fact you used realistic calls and whatnot, made me feel like I was watching a war movie.
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u/Aurora_Unit Oct 26 '18 edited Oct 26 '18
“Harry! Harry!”
The man himself turned to look away from the approaching Death Eaters at the voice calling for him, Mr. Weasley.
“Harry! I’ve got an idea! Have you ever heard of NATO air support?”
“Uh, what?”
“NATO air support! A muggle means of warfare I think, using radios to talk to panes…? to attack their foes.”
They were forced to duck as a fierce green bolt was fired at them, quickly silenced by a ‘stupefy’ from Harry.
“Mr. Weasely, I’m sure you remember that radios don’t work in Hogwarts, even if we had one to call them, but you are welcome to try!”
“Splendid!” Arthur wasted no time in raising his wand to the air and yelling the incantation for the world to hear;
“Accio NATO air support!”
Harry was forced to cast a complex shield charm alongside several offensive bolts to protect Arthur as he stood there, wand raised waiting for help to come.
‘He’s gone mad.’ Harry thought to himself. Why was he alone here defending Arthur Weasley anyway? Where was Ron, Hermione, or even Ginny?
A man clad in army camouflage was dropped in front of them, looking very confused, and very angry.
“Who the bloody hell are all you and what the bloody hell am I doing here!?” he bellowed, in a thick Scottish accent once he had gotten to his feat, a struggle since he was wearing a very large backpack with several aerials poking out.
Harry was left utterly speechless, meanwhile Mr. Weasley was in his element; “Well, you see Mr. Army-Man, we’re a bit stuck in a war here and we were hoping you could summon something called ‘NATO air support' for us?"
The soldier blinked incredulously at Arthur, silenced for a moment before outright exploding, “YOU CAN’T JUST SUMMON AIR SUPPORT ON A WHIM, ANYWAY WHAT WAR, THIS IS SCOTLAND THERE ARE NO WARS IN SCOTLAND!!”
“Look if you don’t call some aircraft to drop several very large bombs on the head of the approaching army over there, everyone in Scotland will probably be killed!” Harry interjected, his temper running out.
The soldier rolled his eyes. “Of course, yes, the subjugation argument, well the day can’t get any stranger. Shouldn’t have had so much at the pub last night, I’ll wake up soon and find out this was all a weird dream…alright, I assume your front line is over there…” and he sauntered off, dispatching one Death Eater with his rifle straight away, the man not knowing how to block a 5.56mm round.
Harry and Arthur followed, indeed curious how he was going to go about his business and protecting him from all but the most powerful of spells.
Eventually, he got down on one knee and slung his rifle, pulling out a large microphone wired to his backpack from one of the many pockets on his jacket; “Attention all aircraft this will be a danger close fire mission, kill-box at grid square K1-21-49-53, sound off.”
There was a moment's pause before his radio crackled into life; “FAC-1, Striker 3-1.”
“Heavy-Rain.”
“Foehammer.”
“FAC-1 copies all, Striker and Foehammer attack direction west, all targets hostile east of the bridge, danger close watch out for my IR. Heavy-Rain use one-oh-five shells.”
There was another, longer pause this time, Harry and Arthur under increasing pressure to keep this man alive while he potentially saved them all.
The distant roar of jet engines came, followed by the thump of a helicopter.
BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTT
Everyone bar the solder jumped, who was wearing a manic grin.
Scores of approaching Death Eaters were mowed down by the first pass of an A-10, some more mopped up by a second.
Suddenly, the ground in front of them seemed to explode, Harry catching the glimpse of something hitting the ground beforehand. Looking up, there was a single aircraft performing a lazy circle above them, spewing out several streams of fire at the ground.
The thumping got louder, looking around, several Apache helicopters were hovering nearby, close to the castle, offloading their deadly payload of cannon rounds, rockets and missiles at the now rapidly retreating dark witches, wizards and magical creatures.
“Alright, time to wrap this up, I want to be home in time for dinner, Striker permission granted to use thermobarics.”
He got up off his knee and ushered the two wizards away, “best we’re not nearby when they’re done!” He yelled, sprinting for cover.
There was an almighty boom, instantly followed by the hairs on the back of Harry’s neck feeling like they were being roasted.
After the searing sensation had dissipated, Harry looked around to…nothing. No trees, no people…nothing.
“Mr. Weasely, I think it’s time the Ministry took muggles a little more seriously…”
“I think you’re right Harry…”
They turned to their soldier, who had disappeared, along with the mighty aircraft he had summoned.
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u/gillstone_cowboy Oct 26 '18
I really enjoy the idea of it being Mr. Weasley, an adept wizard but incompetent observer of muggles.
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Oct 26 '18
“YOU CAN’T JUST SUMMON AIR SUPPORT ON A WHIM, ANYWAY WHAT WAR, THIS IS SCOTLAND THERE ARE NO WARS IN SCOTLAND!!”
This is so damn Scottish , you sir, deserve the upvote!
Als the call in sequence, like a few others under this prompt gave me the shivers. I love this prompt!46
u/Aurora_Unit Oct 26 '18
Haha thanks! I initially had;
"YEH CANNAE JUS' SUMMON AIR SUPPORT ON AH WHIM, ANYWAY WHA' WAR, THIS IS SCOTLAND THERE ARE NAE WARS IN SCOTLAND!!"
but didn't want to get hit with Reddit flak. Glad you enjoyed it!
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Oct 26 '18
CHANGE IT! CHANGE IT NOW! This is it! Give us the angriest Scot you can think of and set him against those basterds. Maybe throw in a: repeat last, did not copy due to accent, over xD
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u/TotesMessenger X-post Snitch Oct 26 '18 edited Oct 26 '18
I'm a bot, bleep, bloop. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit:
[/r/hpfanfiction] Xpost from r/writing prompts. Was wondering if there were any good recommendations for something similar to this? (hopefully completed.)
[/r/u_midgetspinners69] [EU] With Voldemort's army closing in the students try one last trick, they try to summon a power they have only a vague notion of, from stories told by muggles. After uttering "Accio NATO air support", theromobaric bombs start dropping, and they learn how brutal muggle warfare is.
If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads. (Info / Contact)
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Oct 26 '18
[removed] — view removed comment
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u/CascadianExpat Oct 30 '18
I’m going to take a wild guess and say you spent some time overseas on Uncle Sam’s dime. Dialogue seemed very “authentic” to me.
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u/Cloaked42m Oct 26 '18
:) I came here looking for this. I especially appreciated the inclusion of ground troops with zero fucks given. There enemy, kill enemy. Ensure enemy never, ever, wants to come back.
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Oct 26 '18
Yeah it seemed to be a missing component and gritty, realistic (ish) ground war is one of my favorite things to write.
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u/LaoSh Oct 26 '18
It had been 3 years since ‘the boy who lived’ became ‘the boy who left’. The final moments of the Tri Wizard cup had burned themselves into Neville Longbottom’s memory. It all seemed so small looking back, sitting in the stands hoping that his school would win this petty contest of wits and wills. The apprehension, waiting for Harry and the others to emerge from the maze. The concerned muttering growing as the hours dragged on and teams of teachers and later aurors entered and left the maze with no sign of the lost children. The castle was in a state of shock for several days in the wake of what many were calling a tragic accident. Dumbledore was called before the ministry to explain his actions, why more care was not taken to protect the students. That was when it happened. With the greatest wizard of our age, locked in a magic proof box, miles beneath London explaining magical principals that a 3rd year should understand.
The first assault was a bloody massacre. The muggles had no effective protection. They didn’t even realise the nature of the assault until it was too late. Under the effects of the imperious curse, the muggles wiped the majority of their own forces out before they realised the threat was not a natural one. A few imperious curses in the right spots and the most powerful weapons of the muggles were turned against them. And who knew? Who knew that the muggles had been hoarding such power! Hydrogen Bombs they called them, and they knew how to use them. After the first few were detonated by agents of He who must not be named they turned on eachother like beasts, using the excitement as an excuse to obliterate their rivals even as their own people met the same fate. The following years had been harrowing to say the least. Magically scrying the country for what scraps of muggle life remained proved difficult for the death eaters. They had taken instead to trading protection from the radiation in the form of magical wards and charms for collaboration. Teams of muggles, led by death eaters scoured the broken nations of the world seeking out what little resistance the free world could muster.
With Dumbledore locked down and Potter missing, the wizarding world lacked a catalyst to form a resistance around. Dumbledore’s communications from within the Ministry’s bunker become more sporadic and less coherent by the month. Many said he refused to accept what had become of the world above as he continued to prattle on about ‘finding the boy’. As if a single boy could mend the world. There was a time when Neville had thought as much as he looked wistfully across the battle scarred hogwarts grounds to where the maze still stood; decayed now, and overgrown. In the days following Voldemort's return the teachers had dedicated themselves to maintaining order within Hogwarts. Dinner would still be served at 6 and classes would still be held. Even so, news of the outside world trickled in, drip by drip, slowly eroding the moral of the students and later the teachers. The first taste of the new order was felt within Hogwarts several months after the collapse. A group of slytherin students led by Draco Malfoy had convinced nearly a hundred muggle students to aid them in a coup against McGonigal in exchange for leniency for them and their families. The coup was put down but not without sacrifice. Many students point to McGonigal’s steadfastness and tactical brilliance, holing up in the now vacant chamber of secrets but Neville saw the bloody truth. Had it not been for Lupin and his unique afflictions, the coup may have succeeded. Moaning myrtle would certainly not be lonely again in a hurry.
That was the end of normalcy in Hogwarts. The students were organised into militia and instructed in the ways of war. Unbeknownst to them, the teachers had already repelled small scale assaults from death eaters and dementors yet the failed coup left their numbers no match for the ever increasing tide of dark forces arrayed against them. Pretence of ‘civility’ and ‘honor’ were quickly dispatched as they set about teaching every 4th year and above the avada kedavra curse on rats, deer and anything else that might supplement the castles dwindling food stocks. It was on these short sojourns from the castle into the forbidden forest and the remains of hogsmeade that sightings of Harry Potter started to become commonplace. Students would report being accosted by dementors only to be defended by a spectral stag, cast by a boy with a lightning scar. It wasn’t until much later that it was found that these students had been captured by death eaters, interrogated for information about the castles magical defenses and had their memories altered.
And so life progressed, the supporters of voldemort became ever more bold in their assaults as they attrited our numbers. The trickle of information and survivors from the outside world slowly dried up and the messages from Dumbledore became more desperate. After Ron died senselessly in a vain attempt to rescue a group of trapped 2nd years who strayed into the forest looking for food, it slowly dawned on the castle that Potter would not be returning. If he could not see his best friend laid to rest then he had long since departed. Hermione went next, she and several other talented witches and wizards joined Lupin, Snape and Flitwick in an assault on the Death Eaters after receiving information that Lucious Malfory was in the area. The fighting was swift and from what Neville could hear from the saftey of the grounds, painless. They were beyond attempting to disarm, too many casualties on both sides. Flashes of green. Even some of the 2nd years were now able to cast what had once been a forbidden curse, without it’s verbal component. The death eaters hang their bodies in the air above the castle until the flesh began to rot and bodies began to disintegrate. In a final indignity the death eaters hurled the rotting corpses towards the castle. McGonigal, whom had been keeping a near sleepless vigil over them caught them in mid air with a flick of her wand and brought them softly to rest in graves that had been dug days hence. It was a silent ceremony and, as Nevile thought back, the day they truly lost the war.
Neville looked down at the coin in his hand and flicked it into the air. Fred and Luna, sitting in the shallow trench beside Neville watched the coin tumble through the air. Heads. Dumbledore’s face looked back at Neville. He was grinning with all the false confidence they had imbued him with when they minted the coins several years ago, to give to the newly christened student militia. “Dumbledore’s Army” was emblazoned on the reverse. Flick. Heads. That stupid fucking face, the comical look of determination. How had they thought they could win. Flick, tails. “Now!” Neville started. The coins had not fulfilled their original purpose since Hermione had died. As Neville watched, the novelty of the situation cutting through his grim mood, the letters on the rear of the coin shifted and changed once more. “They are coming”.. Luna and Fred seing Neville’s demeanour rapidly shift, gathered around the coin.
“Who is coming” Luna asked her curiosity and hope unabated.
“Who the fuck do you think” Fred snapped back, pulling his wand from his pocket and inspecting it for damage “My money is on the Chudley Cannons, but I could be wrong”. Luna began to ask who he was talking about but thought better of it after seeing Fred’s expression. The small group began extracting DA coins from various folds in their robes. After the beating they had been taking, there were far more coins than members left. All in unison, the text on the coins changed to read “you have to leave!” Moments later an all too familiar sign appeared above the treeline of the forbidden forest. A skull hovered in the sky, a snake winding its way through the vacant eye sockets. Illuminated by the sickly green light, the small group of students saw hundreds of dark silhouettes emerging from the forest, their shadows cast long and distorted by the shifting lights in the sky. From the east, a low rumble began growing higher in pitch as it grew closer. Neville looked up to see 3 fighter jets pass overhead and continue on. “How could this be possible” Neville thought and from the looks of his comrades they were asking the same question. From the castle a familiar voice rung out. “The barrier is down! We must evacuate the students immediately” McGonigal yelled over the dying thunder of the jets. Neville saw Fred move to make a snide remark but could not hear it over the growing thud of his heart and the ringing in his ears. As if to add to the confusion, as he watched McGonigal running out to warn her charges she disappeared. At the same time, the three experienced the familiar, unpleasant sensation of apparition via portkey.
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u/LaoSh Oct 26 '18
As Neville’s sight shrunk down to the size of a pin, the events of the last few years flooded over him, he looked from the castle which had been his home for the past 7 years, to the encroaching tide of black clad death eaters and felt he was missing something. The wards disabling muggle technology is down, he thought. Apparition is possible on castle grounds, ALL magic is possible on castle grounds. He dropped the coin and his vision returned just in time to see his friends blink out of existence. The castle was quiet. It had long been suspected that Voldemort wished to take Hogwarts as his personal residence after securing power. That was the only explanation as to why he had not leveled the place to the ground years ago. “That was good of him” Neville thought, looking at the spires and the lake of his former home “It would have made a beautiful home”. The line of masked, black clad death eaters approached the castle led by a tall, gaunt figure, levitating several feet above the ground. Neville had thought about this moment several times before, it was something of a recurring nightmare of his. He would stand, transfixed and watch He who should not be named enter the castle and sit at Dumbledore’s chair and address the school as it’s new master. Neville did not do this.
“Accio Thermo Nuclear Bomb” a deceptively lightweight, non descript box thudded into Neville’s lap. At, a loss for words he looked stunned at the case. It had two sturdy looking locks, each with a small picture of a thumbprint. Neville was not sure what muggle magic protected this, their most powerful weapon but he knew a lock when he saw it.
“Alohamora?” Neville said, expecting it not to work. The lid popped open revealing an assortment of wires, buttons and a cracked screen.
“Reparo!” Neville’s heart was in his throat. As the wires knitted themselves back together and the cracks on the screen closed and mended themselves the device sprung to life with a soft hum. Neville prodded it with his wand. He pushed a button and a number appeared on the screen, he pushed another, and another number appeared. He kept pushing buttons. BZZZT. The screen went blank. Neville looked up. The death eaters were nearly on top of him. He manically mashed more buttons to a chorus of beeps and complaining whirs from the device. As he hammered the device cursing it in every language he knew he gave it one last hit with his wand, splitting the fragile cherry wood in two and laying the unicorn hair bare. He sat defeated in his trench, watching the death eaters draw closer. He weighed his options, he had tried but now the adrenalin of the moment had departed him and he just wanted to go home. He scrabbled in the dirt, looking for the coin that took his friends away from this horrible place. “581285720” The numbers looked up at him through the dirt, embossed on the rear of the coin. Without touching the coin, Neville returned to the device and keyed in the numbers. A green light flashed, and Nevile’s heart skipped a beat. Relieved it was only the device at first, the significance of this development hit him. The screen on the device read 5. Neville scrambled for the coin, holding it in his hand, wishing for that familiar uncomfortable feeling of portkey apparition. 4. Nothing happened. He turned the coin in his hands. 3. The reverse of the coin now simply read “Thank you”. 2. Neville looked up and around at the castle that was once his home and wondered how long it would take to rebuild. 1 He saw Voldemort clearly interested in Neville’s last stand making his leisurely way over to him, hoping to prolong Neville’s suffering. Neville thought of all the cool things he could say to Voldermort, all the ways to tell him that he was beaten. He found himself hoping it wouldn't hurt, then nothing.
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u/AnEffortIsBeingMade Oct 26 '18
There is always a Dark Lord, and there is always a Boy Who Lives.
All night long, the grim spirits shrieked their chilling cry as they assailed the massive shields surrounding the school. Wizards and witches took turns shoring up defenses, even as the dread Death Eaters apparated in flashes on sickly green light, spells tearing at shields and twisting stone - then vanishing before the guardians, the teachers, the War Wizards could respond to the attacks. Twisting vortices of shadow whispered doom in the wake of the old evils that darted and struck.
Within the shield, the stoic calm of the defenders kept panic at bay from even the youngest students. Teachers flicked their wands which shone with lambent power, uttering spells with a purpose and will their students had never seen. Behind them, senior students ran about, lending aid where defenses buckled as howling dark ghosts tirelessly battered magical wards. In classrooms and dormitories, students huddled together, protected by resting teachers, and by a bulwark that was as unexpected as it was inevitable.
It is in our nature to dismiss our parents, perhaps. Certainly it is not a thing bred only into muggles. Children who saw their parents get dressed and go to work and come home and cook dinner and relax in front of the fire saw now something new; they saw the awakening of pasts tucked away to make room for a new life. They saw the powerful and clever wizards and witches who wore tweed and wool and silly hats awakening at this threat to their children.
They were young, those children huddling under the grim and watchful eye of those who loved them so. They were young and did not know what despair looked like.
Outside, as dawn broke, the Dark Lord's armies arrived in force. Their initial barrage blackened the sky and burnt the ground to ash as killing curses and twisted sorceries struck wards and shields with the power of a mighty hammer. The entire school shook with the tolling of that bell, and wards flared and burned out; shields buckled and popped. With a redoubled cry, the mind-devouring shades poured like ink through the cracks and openings in the schools defenses, and War Wizards unleashed fury of their own, hissing grey magics that splintered the essence of the spirit monsters. They called patronus that rose like vast trees from the cobbles at their feet, and washed away that inky darkness in blistering waves of light.
It was not enough.
The Death Eaters were legion, and where one fell another took its place, but the school's defenses were far more finite. With the terrible power of the Dark Lord spent grinding ancient ritual magics to nothingness, the lesser evils were free to tear a bloody path through the teachers and senior students who stood as the first wall in their way. First one, then another, and another, defenders fell.
Inside the great hall, a dozen students, prodigies all, looked to each other and nodded in silent agreement. Just knowing about the spell was perhaps enough to get a student punished; casting it would surely get them all expelled. But they put their left hands into the middle of the circle they formed, joining in mute camaraderie, as their right hands deftly flicked their wands, and with one voice they uttered a forbidden summoning.
Outside, the wave of blackness was crashing over the walls of defenders. Individual teachers made last stands worthy of legend, and the scarred yet strong War Wizards claimed a hundred Death eaters for each one of their ranks which fell, but the dark wave was endless. So powerful was the magic of the Dark Lord that even the rising sun gave off no light as his unchecked hunger and might devoured everything, leaving the quiet dark stillness of the grave in his passing. Parents apparated into the courtyard as walls buckled, appearing in the dozens and raging with the final light of candles burning at all possible ends.
And it was not enough.
The sky broke, tearing with a sickly wet sound, and out of the scars in the air flew shapes moving impossibly quickly. In their wake followed a roaring so loud and fierce that even the seemingly pain-immune Death Eaters were driven to their knees. High above, one shape banked sharply, and a tiny line protruding from its side twitched, and twitched again. Two much larger shapes, moving relatively slowly, face the staggered hordes of Death Eaters and belched a staccato rain of fire and metal that tore flesh and sent limbs spinning.
The boom of impacting artillery blasting craters where there had been people preceded the dull crack from the mighty gunship circling above, a syncopated drum of death that chewed through wizards, Death Eaters, and even split apart the flying wraiths as they attempted to scatter. And then the bombs went off.
There is no defense against a rain of flechettes. No wizards shield held up against the cluster bombs that burst and fell, bursting again just above ground level. Brooms shattered to splinters as shock waves spread circles of stillness on the cobbles below. The black mist of Death Eaters, having only barely broken into the school rooms, flinched back and forms raced away. All but one. One pale form, standing untouched in the midst of more death then even he could have imagined, pointed his wand and pronounced doom on these flying nightmares. One blew apart; another lost its wings and trailed fire as it crashed to the ground. The awakened power of the Dark Lord roiled and burst, sending fragments of force to strike and destroy these muggleborn monstrosities. For a moment, it appeared he might destroy them all.
None from the ground could see the B2 flying so high above the clouds; none knew it had released its payload more than a minute ago. And as the school walls collapsed around desperate shields raised by dying parents around their children, the first MOAB went off 400 feet above the ground.
The flash alone killed. It burned those shrieking shadows into mere memory, and scorched the magic veil darkening the skies. The shock wave liquefied bone and punched the ground so hard the dirt rippled as a pond surface when a rock is thrown in. Dust rose higher than the highest tower of the school - which stood no longer, shoved away and down like building blocks at the hand of an angry child. The second, third, and fourth MOAB killed nothing, as there was nothing left to kill - they simply levelled the field, literally.
The Dark Lord was gone; no horcrux protections could repair that soul, no regenerative magics could restore a body that simply no longer existed. In one corner of the school, where a few large bricks still met at a right angle, describing the corner of a room, a shield flickered fitfully around a young boy, and the faint shapes of his parents' spirits faded fast, wholly spent in this final act of protection.
For an hour, the boy moved no more than a slight rocking back and forth, hands covering his ears. The next hour, he crawled, sobbing emptily. Finding scraps of people or clothing he recognized, his wails were those of a thing lost and damned. Lost to friends and loved ones; damned to live. Hours later, as the sun began to drop behind the broken horizon, the boy slumped against a blasted tree stump and pulled the necklace his mother had pressed into his hands mere moments before sacrificing her life to shield her only child. It twinkled, then sparkled, then glowed. A soft voice spoke hurriedly.
"My sweet baby boy, I am so sorry that I cannot be there for you now. Please, listen to me. You must repeat these words as I say them. They will take you somewhere safe. I love you."
Eerie words tumbled into the silence before the boy. As he spoke them, the broken magics of the shattered school and the thousands of fallen souls twisted the simple teleport into a thing of unpredictable power. Space shifted as the boy was whisked away, father than distance. Time itself folded and the boy appeared in a dappled grove just after noon. He looked around in bewilderment and fright, and heard footsteps approaching. A man and woman, he perhaps almost 30, she a few years younger, approached at a cautious pace but with concern on their faces. Seeing the boy, they glanced at each other then hurried to his side.
"Are you alright? What happened? We felt the magic but...what spell was that?"
The boy shrugged mutely, eyes darting between them.
"Are you from near here? Do you know where your family is?"
The emotion was too great to hold in check, and the boy collapsed, shivering and insensate.
He awoke in a soft bed, warm under several blankets. A haughty young man was in heated discussion with the two who had found him, but the boy could not hear a word of it. Abruptly, the arrogant youth looked over at the boy and whispered a spell, vanishing into thin air. The couple came over carefully, the man handing him a bowl of soup and a slice of bread; the woman carrying a glass of water.
"Sorry about that. We've been trying to find out where you come from and we've had a little bit of trouble. Can you remember where you live?"
The boy shook his head, fixated on the bowl of soup and the slice of bread.
"That's fine, don't you worry, it'll come in time. For now, can we just introduce ourselves? I'm Peter; this is my wife, Lydia. What's your name?"
The boy's voice cracked from a day of disuse, then he croaked out, "Tom."
"Tom. Good to meet you, Tom. Well, it's quite the riddle where you came from, but don't you worry, everything is going to be OK."
There is always a Dark Lord, and there is always a Boy Who Lives.
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u/Percussion_Guru Oct 26 '18
HOLY SHIT THIS IS AMAZING. Idk about you guys, but I live the idea of a cycle story like this, thanks for posting it!!
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Oct 26 '18
This was the only one here that felt like it was an actual story, and not simply an "America F yeah" style reply. It moved me to tears, and I don't think I can read any others after this because they'll pale in comparison.
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u/d1rtyd0nut Oct 26 '18
Simply amazing.
This is the best entry I've read for this prompt. You really gave me goosebumps
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u/Gun_Nut_42 Oct 26 '18
Small quibble. The B-2 Spirit can not carry MOABs. Those are carried by C-130s and other transport aircraft. Great story though.
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u/AnEffortIsBeingMade Oct 26 '18
Dang it. This is why I should take more time to research when posting. Ah, well. Thanks for the correction.
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u/Gun_Nut_42 Oct 26 '18
When you first mentioned B-2s, I thought Hogwarts was gonna glow that night.
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u/AnEffortIsBeingMade Oct 26 '18
Yeah, wanted to avoid going nuclear. Seems somehow to run counter to NATO CONOPS, and OP specifically called out thermobarics, so I just went with "big boom" and "a bomber I know the name of". Good thing I don't try to write military fiction ;)
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u/scott_hunts Oct 26 '18
Ooh, nice ending
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u/AnEffortIsBeingMade Oct 26 '18
Hey, thank you =) It's a very nice prompt idea, so thanks for posting it.
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u/F00lioh Oct 26 '18
Hyacinth, Baxter and Winston had just finished their patrol of the perimeter and gathered in the quad of Hogwarts.
"We're doomed!" Baxter cried. "We're surrounded by death eaters and it doesn't look like we can hold them back for much longer."
"It'll be alright" said Hyacinth, "I'm sure we can think of something." Hyacinth was worried, it didn't look good, but she knew she couldn't give up. She was determined to think of something, anything to get them out of their current predicament. Being half muggle, she knew her end would be much more painful than the others.
"Well, anyone have any fresh ideas to prolong our lives, before we meed our inevitable deaths?" asked Winston.
"I'm thinking!" snarled Hyacinth. Damn Ravenclaws and their logic, useful at times, but so utterly depressing at times as well. She was a Hufflepuff, although at times she felt like she should be a Gryffindor. But the sorting hat had chosen, and she wasn't going to fight it, she was simply glad she got into Hogwarts, and in the end, it didn't really matter anyway.
"Don't you have some muggle tricks you can use?" quipped Baxter. A Slytherin through and through, Baxter was easily the most annoying of the group, but he wasn't all bad. For one thing, he hadn't turned tail and run away, or joined up with the Death Eaters, so there must be some redeemable quality about him.
Muggle tricks, thought Hyacinth. Then she remembered. Before the school term started her uncle from her muggle side had come to visit. He was Royal Marine and he had just recently returned from Afghanistan. He told a story about a situation he was in that was eerily similar to the predicament they were in now. Surrounded, outnumbered and outgunned, his small outpost in the middle of nowhere was about to be overrun. His outfit was saved by something he called "NATO Air Support" that rained down Hellfire and Brimstone on the enemy attackers and saved him.
"NATO Air Support" muttered Hyacinth.
"What was that?" asked Baxter.
"NATO Air Support! My uncle told me about it, supposedly it has the power to save us from this situation. I don't know much about it, but it's a muggle weapon of some sort, a very powerful weapon!"
"So then... how do we call it?" asked Winston curiously.
"I don't know, maybe we just summon it..."
"Like a patronous?"
"Maybe... I really don't know much about it, but it wouldn't hurt to try." replied Hyacinth.
"Alright Miss Muggle Smartypants" Baxter said haughtily "Go ahead and summon this ... NATO Air Support!"
"Fine! I will!" retorted Hyacinth angrily "Accio... NATO Air Support!"
There was flash of light, and all of a sudden, before them appeared a green box, with a black radio handset and an antenna that looked like a miniature metal Christmas tree.
Everyone curiously looked at the strange contraption before them, cautiously approaching.
"Now what?" asked Baxter.
Hyacinth picked up the handset, studied it briefly and then pushed the button on the side. "Hello?" she spoke into the handset.
All of a sudden the box began to talk "Last calling station, this is Reaper 33, identify, over."
Everyone stepped back. Hyacinth pressed the button again "Uh.. this is Hyacinth, we would like to request NATO Air Support.... over."
"Codename Hyacinth, passphrase accepted, Operation Apollo Saber will commence. What are your coordinates? Over."
"I don't know. I guess Hogwarts?" said Hyacinth sheepishly.
"Codename Hyacinth, Grid Reference Location Hogwarts acknowledged. Archangel 77 scrambled to your vicinity, E-T-A is T minus 40. This is Reaper 33, out."
With that there was another flash of light and the green box, handset and antenna disappeared, leaving everyone slightly stunned and unsure of what just happened.
Meanwhile, at RAF Marham in Norfolk a squadron of AH-64 Apache attack helicopters took off heading towards Hogwarts. It took them around 40 minutes to arrive, and when they did, they immediately released dozens of AGM 114 "Hellfire" and GEC-Maroni "Brimstone" missiles at Voldemort's Army in a stunning and terrifying display of power. It was then that the students of Hogwarts realized why, despite their magical advantage over the muggles, the wizarding world had never attempted to subdue or subjugate the muggles, and why they had kept themselves hidden. The frightening and unburdened ease with which the muggles could bring such devastating destruction was more terrifying than any number of Dark Lords.
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u/gettheguillotine Oct 26 '18
Wait, are muggles better with technology then wizards? Because what's preventing any of the students of Hogwarts from using guns?
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u/the_fire_monkey Dec 12 '18
“But when it comes to applied sciences, technologies, any spotty Herbert with a degree and a lab coat can perform greater wonders than Merlin.”
― Jonathan L. Howard, Johannes Cabal the Necromancer19
u/F00lioh Oct 26 '18
I was thinking about too, but the way I see it, it’s a values issue not a tech one. You have to ask yourself, why doesn’t anyone in the Wizarding world, even the really bad guys, use guns or bombs, when by then it would be readily available? Why aren’t there spells that are essentially nukes and can wipe out entire cities?
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u/Larethian Nov 01 '18
Who in their right mind would develop a spell as powerful as to level a city and actually use it once or twice... waaaaait
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u/scott_hunts Oct 26 '18
I love it!
I was worried there wouldn’t be any responses but every response I’ve read so far has been incredible.
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Oct 26 '18
Kingsley Shacklebolt saved our lives.
Charity Tchitembo and Patience Lukako huddled together under a blasted-out door perched precariously against a block of stone, peering out into an...an abbatoir. Smoke, dust, and ash billowed all around them. The charred remains of Shacklebolt's hat smouldered on the ground in front of them, its sacrifice a small price to pay for his safety and theirs. He'd flown away with only a small backward glance to find more students and carry them to shelter.
None of them had seen what hit him.
"We can't leave them," Charity protested. She wiped soot off her face with a scarf that had been yellow once upon a time.
"Of course we can. How are we supposed to get there?" Patience threw up her hands. "We have no wands. We have no brooms. We have no spells. And THAT," she said, pointing to the sky, "will kill us all."
Charity rearranged her scarf to cover her nose and mouth. "We walk," she said, voice muffled.
While Patience watched, Charity ran into the middle of the field, seized a small fabric-covered lump, and dragged it towards their makeshift shelter. Flicking her eyes between Charity and the sky, Patience fidgeted, waiting, watching. Once Charity was close enough that Patience could see the whites of her eyes, Patience's reserve broke. She ran to Charity and seized the feet of the lump. Together they lifted it over the threshold of the door into the stone hall.
"Oh god," Patience moaned.
Charity closed her eyes and sank onto the stone. "What?"
"I know this one. Oh god. Oh fuck." She tore off her scarf and used it to cushion the lump...the girl, the child's head. "She's a second year. My little brother sits next to her in Herbology."
Charity snapped back to her feet as if she had been struck. "She's still alive, isn't she?" Reaching down to the girl's neck, she fumbled for a pulse, which, thankfully, was clear and strong.
"Her name is Pippa." Patience struggled to loosen Pippa's robes and pull her into the position she'd learned over the summer with her Muggle cousin, the lifeguard. Helps keep her blood flowing, he'd said. As she did, Charity rifled through the girl's clothing.
"Aha!" Charity pulled out a startlingly long red wood wand from Pippa's trousers. "Wow. That's enormous." She turned it over, revealing a small carved sigil at the base. "Dragon heartstring," she said.
"I can't use that," Patience sighed. "Wrong core. I've tried."
Charity shook her head. "I don't know that we have a choice."
A short, sharp roar shook their little hideaway. And then the whistling began.
"Run!" Patience cried.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Charity pointed Pippa's wand at the girl's stricken body. It twitched in her fingers, once, twice, and then all three of them were thrown against the stone wall by the bomb blast.
Pippa moaned.
Charity was huddled against the wall, cradling her arm to her chest. The wand clattered to the floor. "Oh no," she sobbed. Her wrist was twisted and bruised in a way human arms were not supposed to go.
Patience, who couldn't hear anything but the ringing in her ears and couldn't put weight on her left leg, shuffled along the floor to the wand. Picking it up, she held it so close to her face her eyes crossed. "Look, you," she said. "We saved your owner's life. Now we need you to help us or all of us are going to die."
The wand began to glow a dangerous, ugly red. Pippa moaned again.
Clutching her arm tighter to her chest, Charity turned to Patience and the wand. "She's right. If you want to see your bearer alive in the morning, you have to help."
The sickly mottled red nimbus expanded to cover Patience's face. A finger of red reached out to touch Charity.
"Oh," Charity said. "You're hurt too."
The wand flickered and faded, then, abruptly, flared bright white. Run! it shouted into their heads.
Charity curled her body over Pippa's, burying her head against Pippa's ribs. Patience sheltered Pippa's head with her body. The bomb whistles sang for an ugly second. Then the blast came.
When the silence came, Charity pulled up her tear-streaked face. "Are we all alive?" she croaked.
Patience was very silent. "We are all breathing."
The wand began to flicker again. "You're still here," Charity said. "You're...flickering white. What does that mean?"
Still sheltered by Charity's body, Pippa sucked in a deep breath which turned into a sob. And another. And another.
"Pippa!" Patience struggled to get up. "Pippa. Pippa Fitzgerald. You're awake. Oh thank goodness."
"Get the girl her wand," Charity gasped. "No, don't let go of her," she said to Patience. Curling her body around to stretch out a leg, taking care to not jostle her broken arm, she plunked her foot next to her friend. "Take off my shoe. With one hand."
Left-handed, Patience untied Charity's shoe and pulled it off.
"And my sock," Charity ordered. Patience complied, and Charity reached out with her foot and seized the wand between her toes.
"I didn't know you could do that." Patience took the wand from Charity's toehold.
Charity shrugged. "Needs must when the devil drives."
"Right. What are we doing?" Patience looked at Pippa. "Lovey, can you talk?"
Pippa stared up at her, wordlessly.
"No, you can't." She sighed. Stroking Pippa's hair, she murmured, "This will be difficult. Pippa. I need you to think of the happiest thing you can right now."
Pippa's eyes faded.
"If you're doing what I think you're doing..." Charity took a deep breath. "I studied a bit of Legilimency. From the books in the library. I practiced on my familiar."
Tears welled up in Patience's eyes. "Of course you did. You would do that." She closed her eyes, squeezed them hard, let the water leak out. "Wand," she said. "We have one chance to get help. Can you do that?"
The wand flickered that pale mottled red.
"We can't stay here. Neither can you." Charity added her voice. "One chance, then you rest."
The horrible whistling began. "No!" Charity cried, and the older girls threw their bodies over Pippa again.
The walls shook.
"Wand," Patience repeated, once the shaking had gone down. "We have one chance."
The wand grew still. "I'll take that," Charity said. "Here we go. Patience, we both grab her hand and you put the wand in it." She paused. "Pippa, I'm so sorry. And...Wand. I'm so sorry."
With all three girls holding the wand together, Patience and Charity locked eyes. Charity took a deep breath. "You say the words. I bring the memories."
"Done," Patience whispered. She closed her eyes, inhaled sharply, squeezed Pippa's hand. "Expecto... Expecto Patronum!"
Nothing happened. Patience opened her eyes and looked at Charity, whose face was locked in concentration. Desperate, despairing, and desolate, Patience threw her head into the air and shouted, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
A silver bead formed at the tip of the wand. Charity opened her eyes, looked at Patience, and nodded. "Three...two...one. EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
The silver bead broke free of the wand, shaping itself into a glittering butterfly.
"Find help," Charity begged.
"Get us out of here," Patience added.
The butterfly circled up to the battered door and out into the killing fields.
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Oct 26 '18
"Harry!" Hermione yelled, backing up as she did. She narrowly dodged a stray green bolt of light, the killing curse whizzing past to slam into the scorched stone walls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. "Accio objects now!"
Harry glanced over to see his fellow defenders to his left stumbling, fatigue setting in as they were continuously pushed back down the hall. Nodding quickly in understanding - something that was more for himself rather than anyone else since no one could see that kind of head motion in the heat of battle - he cast Accio on the nearest piece of rubble and held it out in front of him. Likewise, the few fighters with ample strength remaining, Hermione and Ron among them, did the same, holding out the pieces of broken, jagged stone as physical shields as they backed up past closed classrooms down the narrow hallway.
The stone did its job, soaking the lesser spells cast by the equally tired, if numerically superior, Death Eaters while breaking apart against the occasional Avada Kedavra to save their casters. Using the moving cover, Harry and his allies backed up around the corner and into the open doors of the Great Hall, where many other defenders of the castle already were.
The moment Harry passed through the threshold into the Great Hall, multiple students slammed the heavy doors shut, closing off the rabid yells and bloodthirsty screams of the Death Eaters from the tired defenders.
"Are we all here?" Harry yelled out between deep breaths.
"Most of us," Arthur Weasley, Ron's father, replied, stepping up. "I was in the last group before you. It seems that we're all that's left to defend the castle."
Harry's heart sank at that thought. He looked around, taking into view the clumps of exhausted students, professors, and members of the Order of the Phoenix that constituted Magical Britain's last line of defense against the Dark. He resisted the urge to clamp his hands on his face and scream. They had come so far: everything they had done had led up to this moment. Every single one of Voldemort's horcruxes had been destroyed, and Voldemort himself had been forced to the field to participate in a decisive battle that would decide the fate of Britain, Europe, and maybe even the world.
And yet, even with the shed blood of so many that had supported him to this point, Harry could not close it out. He couldn't beat Voldemort. The older wizard's decades of experience had served him well, and every time he had gotten close to the Dark Lord, he had been outmatched and toyed with.
"What should we do?" Ron asked, his voice revealing his weariness.
"What can we do?" Hermione questioned instead. "Even if we can hold here, in the Great Hall, for a little while longer, that means nothing. Eventually they'll break through, and when they do..."
The implication of her words caused them all to look down. There was a foreboding weight of fear and dread that had crept through all of them, even infecting the staunchest of Gryffindors...
Harry snapped his eyes up, straightening out his back as he did so. The nucleus of an idea - a crazy idea, really half an idea, borne out of audio clips of news broadcasts and television shows that he heard while growing up - gleamed in his eye. "No," he solemnly said, a fire in his voice. Ron, Hermione, and Mr. Weasley all looked up at him with a little bit of shock. Indeed, throughout the Great Hall, people stopped talking and whispering to look at Harry Potter.
"No," Harry repeated, looking around the Great Hall and looking at each and every single person in the eyes. Some flinched and looked away, but Harry did not. "We're not going to give up here. It's not going to end like this. I know that you are all tired, that many loved ones have been lost tonight. There is nothing we can do about that anymore. All I can ask from all of you is to give your last remnants of strength, to hold the front as long as you can. I have faith that in our greatest hour of need, we can find a way, a path to a better future!" Harry paused. "Are you with me?"
Silence filled the Great Hall.
Then one brave Gryffindor, none other than Colin Creevey, began to enthusiastically clap, even though one eye was closed shut and he was bleeding from a gash on his forehead. Even though he had gone through hell and back, he believed in Harry Potter.
And suddenly, the whole hall was clapping and cheering, because in their darkest hour, they all suddenly had faith in Harry Potter. What else could they believe in other than the idea that the Chosen One would deliver them out of their greatest time of need?
Harry took a deep breath as he tried to steady his rapidly beating heart. He walked back to his small standing group, the eyes of everyone in the Great Hall on him as he did so.
"Do you have a plan?" Hermione whispered, looking at her friend with a concerned look. She was, perhaps, afraid that he had simply just lost it.
Harry tried to give her a reassuring smile, though given the stress of the situation, his smile may have had the opposite of its intended effect. "Kind of. More like an idea." He raised his wand to the ceiling, his arm straight and his eyes closed as he leaned his head down. Instinctively, the three people standing near him backed away, giving the young wizard a few meters of space to himself.
It was, honestly, an insane idea. It was only because he had heard the occasional television news report or radio blurb about the world during his Muggle summers that he had even thought of such an idea. There was no way any other person would've put the Muggle ideas he had together with magic for the sole purpose of maximum destruction.
There was complete silence. Then, a deep inhalation. And then, four words.
"Accio NATO air support!" Harry yelled, opening his eyes as he looked to the sky-like ceiling of the Great Hall.
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u/Jolphin Oct 26 '18
I like it, but Harry would definitely know what Air support is. I feel that it would be the older wizards doing it, as they don't quite understand what it is, they just lnow it is destructive.
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Oct 26 '18
Probably. I guess I’m calling in suspension of disbelief here and saying that Harry knows relatively very little about the Muggle world compared to a regular Muggle teenager. It is, after all, the 90’s - so no internet and less information overall - and Harry was locked away for a good portion of that while spending his time after that mostly in the magical world, so I find it plausible that he may have not heard or not cared too much about some of the current events of his time like the NATO bombings in the Balkans.
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(Part 2)
NATO-designated US Armed Forces Supply Depot, Classified Location
Lieutenant Andrew Raines sat at his desk, sitting on bitter lukewarm coffee as he listened to classic tunes play over the radio. As the highest ranking logistics officer on his shift, he had the glory of 'securing' the deadly weapons of war stored inside of the supply depot in the middle of the night. Inside the small warehouse where he sat at his desk, there was little more he could do. So as he perused an old magazine that he undoubtedly memorized every word of, he settled into his wrinkly, cheap leather chair and prepared himself for a long night.
A great tearing sound tore him from his magazine, and his eyes widened as he leapt to his feet. One hand instinctively pulled his handgun from his holster even though he knew that it wouldn't do much in the situation. He slowly walked over to the back of the warehouse where he gazed upon the sight of the stars - through the torn metal sheet that had once been the supply depot warehouse's roof. To his side, dozens of racks of weapons, ranging from AGM-65s to GBU-28s to CBU-87s. Most notably, an entire rack of CBU-55s - thermobaric weapons regularly termed as the most powerful non-nuclear weapons NATO had to offer by media pundits - were missing.
Andrew gulped. He hoped getting discharged was the only thing that would happen to him after this.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland
Harry waited with bated breath, as did the rest of the Great Hall. It had been a few minutes since he had cast his spell, and even though he still had his arm raised, nothing happened.
Harry lowered his wand, sighing. Beside him, Hermione grimaced. The rest of the defenders in the hall looked away, their faiths in their would-be savior shaken as their morale fell even further.
Then the world shook. The world roared.
Harry was thrown off his feet. Screams echoed throughout the Great Hall as its ceiling flickered while dust and stone fragments fell from the ceiling. It was as if the entire Great Hall was about to collapse on itself. It was unlike anything that the students, professors, Order of the Phoenix members, or even the Great Hall itself had ever seen. Ron clapped his hands on his ears in a vain attempt to cut out the immense sound that seemingly emanated from everywhere.
Just as it seemed like the Great Hall would give out and they would all die, the world returned to normal. The tremors stopped. The noise disappeared.
Harry was the first to rise to his feet, shakily moving toward the still closed doors of the Great Hall. Gesturing to a few others, they pulled back the doors and Harry surveyed the castle.
Or rather, he surveyed craters of dirt that used to be Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
"Bloody hell," a whisper came from the back. Harry privately concurred.
Some parts of the castle had survived better than others, but the damage was overall catastrophic. Harry wasn't sure what kind of bombs he had managed to call, but they were certainly good at their intended task. Moving through the damaged stone hallways missing ceilings and walls, he passed the broken bodies of many wounded and dead Death Eaters. Finally, he exited into the courtyard of the school, which had miraculously taken little damage compared to the rest of the school. The stone bricks of the floor, however, were cracked and ruined from the overwhelming pressure and shockwaves generated by the air support arsenal of NATO. There were also many bodies in various conditions, possibly flung by the power of the bombs, as well as barely conscious survivors that weren't long for life.
"My legs!" a cry came from across the courtyard. Harry blanched at the sight of a young man, no older than twenty and barely older than Harry himself, futilely crawling away as he left a trail of blood and entrails behind him. Everything under his waist was gone.
"Harry... Potter." The wheezy gasp came from the far end of the courtyard, and Harry alone strode over, passing the now-dead young man who had finally bled out and left the world.
The ruined body of Lord Voldemort was a sight that Harry would've rather not gazed upon, but he did so out of morbid curiosity. The Dark Lord had lost his entire right arm as well as most of his upper cloak. His bare, unnaturally pale white chest was pockmarked with shrapnel, the largest of which - a metal pipe no longer than half a meter, protruded from the center of his chest. His left arm hang limply at his side, the shoulder looking oddly connected to his torso, while neither of his feet could be seen from under his black cloak. This was Voldemort's last, for he had no more horcruxes to delay the inevitable. He could no longer flee from death.
"So..." Voldemort whispered, barely able to speak, "this was the power that I knew not." Had the older wizard possessed any sense of humor, he would've smiled at the irony of the situation. Voldemort possessed no sense of humor, so he did not. "Had I known this, I would've never challenged you for supremacy."
"I didn't want supremacy," Harry replied, his voice low and dark. "I just wanted to live my life. You were the one who wouldn't stop."
"I supp-" Voldemort stopped, violently coughing and spewing up blood. "I suppose this was the only way for this to end then." Voldemort looked up at the dark sky. "I am broken. Do it. Finish this."
Harry said nothing as the barest hint of the sun began to peak over the horizon, bathing them in orange light. Then, with a nearly imperceptible nod, Harry raised his wand and granted Voldemort's last request.
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u/Wulf715 Oct 26 '18
yes
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Oct 26 '18
Thank you! I’m happy you liked it that much!
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u/Wulf715 Oct 26 '18
YW, I have 600 coins from a gild train someone started, ive been waiting to use them for a while!
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u/Official_Ben_Mears Oct 26 '18
Hmph. I mean, I love it, but it was totally unrealistic. Have you ever considred the logicstics of any of this?? I mean where are the consequences? Harry alone should have to answer for his war crimes. All in all good pulp though. Just something you maybe want to think about.
Best regards,
Ben Mears.8
Oct 26 '18
That’s certainly something to take into consideration. On one hand, it was a last ditch effort before the fall of the light, but on the other, he inflicted massive - some might say inhumane - amounts of damage to life and property. I’m not quite sure if it counts as a war crime though - it was legitimate combat between two sides. At any rate, I’d say that it’s possible for Harry to obsess over what he could’ve done otherwise for many years, as well as some of the other surviving students being traumatized by the carnage.
I’m glad you liked it though!
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Oct 26 '18
this was metal, good thing op didn't allow nuclear warfare, wizzarding would be totally destroyed
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u/scott_hunts Oct 26 '18
Very good!
Getting a lot of great responses out of this, I figured I’d get one at best, but y’all keep coming up with more. Not complaining though, the more the merrier!
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Oct 26 '18 edited Aug 16 '21
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u/Cloud_Motion Oct 26 '18
Hmm! Is Nagini still alive at this point though? Because if he is, Voldemort would come back right? For all the good it could do him...
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Oct 26 '18
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u/Cloud_Motion Oct 26 '18
Good point! But are we assuming that bombs and stuff would destroy horcruxes, if they're supposedly impermeable to everything but a few select materials, like Basilisk venom etc?
If the bullets/bombs and the-like that are landing are ultimately made of steel (or whatever bullets are made of), they wouldn't destroy the horcrux, right? In the context of the universe, at least?
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u/sampathsris Oct 26 '18
Ginny would have been devastated. Except that, I really liked it.
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u/Aerd_Gander Oct 26 '18
I'd imagine the subsequent emotional breakdown takes place after the realization sets in, which could be an interesting continuation. I think it was intentional though, the aftermath of that realization just feels like it would be out of place and extraneous in this story.
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u/gugabalog Oct 26 '18
That ending fucked me up.
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u/ZBTmaniac Oct 26 '18
Killed ol' Voldy permanently! I doubt Dumbledore will be offer Harry a choice on the spiritual train ride though.
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Oct 26 '18 edited Oct 26 '18
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u/ohyaitsathrowaway Sep 20 '23 edited Sep 20 '23
So I remember seeing this years ago and I all I could think of was "Nerd!"
But as a fellow nerd myself, who grew up the series and later developed a passion for military aviation I thought I'd bite. I sat down and wrote the following response but only realized now, years later cleaning out files on an old desktop, that I never actually submitted it.
So I have no idea if you're still active or will even see this OP (or if anyone else will given the thread age), but here you go, one more submission from the past:
Edit: In 4 parts apparently. I guess there's a character limit.
____
The afternoon was a quiet, drab, dull, entirely normal Scottish day. On the wall, an old, featureless clocked slowly ticked its way through the bottom of 4:05.
BRRRRRNNNNNNNNNNNG.
As it always did, the unexpected piercing shrill of the antique telephone sent the airman upright with a jolt. On the other end the few scarce words were rapid, crisp, and generally familiar. Without hesitation the operator slammed his fist onto the lone red button located ominously nearby and barely allowed the handset to fall away before bellowing the iconic word:
“SCRAMBLE!”
Maybe you were sleeping, maybe you were on the loo, maybe Arsenal was playing. Sometimes you had warning, sometimes you didn't. Either way, it didn't matter. When that alarm rang, you moved.
Amongst the klaxons and dancing shadows of coloured lights a handful of technicians and two bulkily laden pilots raced into the old, but meticulously prepared hangars, their movements a mix of adrenaline fueled energy tempered by a cold, emotionless familiarity. Within ninety seconds the first low whump and subsequent piercing whine of air under pressure echoed as four sets of metal fan blades spun up to nearly unimaginable speeds. Bare moments passed again before the whine grew into a deafening roar that shook the very ground in a bold statement of challenge for miles across the Scottish countryside. Their tasks flawlessly completed, the handful of technicians watched, now helplessly, as the vibrant orange fires of their charges raged skyward before disappearing into the overcast skies.
The clock had now just ticked past 4:09.
“Winter Ops, Wyvern 51 flight airborne.” The lead pilot sent out to the murky gray skies. The woman that answered was cool, quiet, and reassuring.
“Wyvern 51, Winter acknowledges. Contact Magic Control button 12. Good hunting, Wyvern.”
“Magic, Magic, Wyvern 51 checking in. Two times Typhoon, Alert loadout, Angels zero-eight climbing unrestricted, Lossie northeast.” The first voice went out again as the two 6 Squadron Typhoon fighter jets growled out defiantly towards the North Sea.
After an uncharacteristic and palpable delay an older man answered, “Wyvern this is Magic Control, radar identified. Snap right 170, continue unrestricted.” The two sleek grey jets traced back to the south while continuing their effortless climb.
“170? What's this, hijacking?” a firm but inquisitive female voice queried in 51's helmet through their private channel. Looking over his shoulder the pilot could see the masked face of his wingman staring back at him some forty feet away.
“Not sure 2, no statement of exercise though. Whatever's afoot, this one's real.” 51 answered as he shifted in his narrow metal seat and unconsciously squared his shoulders. Taking a deliberate breath he thumbed his throttle rocker in a different direction.
“Magic, Wyvern, request Picture.”
Where the first delay in response had barely been noticed, now the hesitation was terribly pronounced. When control finally did answer sharp, uncharacteristic chatter could be heard distantly in the background. Something was clearly wrong.
“Wyvern, Magic. Picture is… clear... however… Level… uh… level Angels 25, continue right 250 now, and uh… standby further.” The two pilots exchanged another look between themselves, expressions plainly seen in each other despite the full face mask and opaque black visors. After an agonizing few seconds the controller continued “okay, okay. Wyvern Buster to Grid AK 8625 2623. It's sounding like… troops in contact?” The controller continued with uncharacteristic uncertainty and the slightest hint of incredulity as 51 frantically scrambled to copy down the unexpected coordinates.
“Lead, that grid's here in Scotland. In contact with who?” The wingman quiered again on their private channel. The answer was not long in coming as the two sleek fighters arced back around to the west.
“Wyvern, Magic. Descend now Angels zero six and advise when visual on reported grid. I'm sorry Wyvern, the reports we're receiving are… unusual.” 51 automatically kicked his hand up twice high in the canopy to send his wingman into trail before rolling over and bringing his Typhoon sharply down back towards the low scattered clouds.
“Wyvern, Magic. We’ve just lost you on radar conta-“ The controller’s still slightly bewildered voice cut out into a garble of static.
“Magic, Wyvern. We're almost on top of that grid. Do you have any idea what's going- bloody hell!” 51 couldn't help himself as his jet punched out of the cloud bottom and he saw the unbelievably colourful chaos breaking up the Scottish highlands below. On instinct he allowed his jet to level into a long slow orbit while his brain fired away as fast as possible trying to understand the incredulity that he was now seeing below.
“Magic, I don't know what I'm seeing out here but it appears there's a bright… dome of some kind sitting overtop a large castle. I've never seen anything like it.” 51 spoke slowly and cautiously. Twelve years of military conditioning and training unable to account for sheer strangeness below him.
“Wyve-, -gic, confirm that… -ome… sta-” The controller called back through heavy static.
“Damnit 2, my radio’s gone tit's up, did you catch that?” 51 asked as he continued a wide orbit above the castle grounds, unable to take his eyes off the incredulous sights below.
“No Lead, mine was broken too… Lead, those people below, south of that courtyard… are they… are they shooting fireworks at each other?” 52’s daze-filled voice trailed off.
“I have no idea, but-” He cut off as the dome abruptly vanished and a particularly bright burst of colour shot forth. Down below on the castle an entire tower exploded into a violent fountain of brick, dust, and debris.
“Wyv- -act Madcap -ncy -point eight five. I say- -two two zero- -ht five.” The firm voice of Magic attempted to pierce through the heavy static.
“Lead, was that 220.55?”
“.85 I think, I don't what the hell this is all about but someone… someone’s got some explaining to do.” 51 muttered as he threw in new frequency. “Station 220.85, this is RAF Interception. How do you read?” He asked, without truthfully expecting anything as the remarkable light show continued below.
He didn't wait long.
-END PART 1-