Analyst Drenden stared at the computer screen, his eyes blinking. It was 4:30 in the morning and, so far, the brick wall had not moved.

He wanted it to move–no doubt about it. He wanted it to move or explode or something. Anything so that he could finally go to sleep.

Instead, the wall stubbornly remained still and boring. Just like you would expect a wall to.

"You see anything, Foxtrot?" The analyst whispered into his mic. Foxtrot was the codename for a sniper team located in a small clumping of trees not too far from the brick wall they were staking out.

"No sir." A pause. "Are we sure that there are wizards somehow hiding in that wall? Scanners showed–"

"Unfortunately, we all know what the scanners showed us." He sighed. "Nothing." Literally. There was nothing behind that wall. No wizards and no magic. Just some electrical wires and plumbing.

Which is why the officers on the U.S.S. Ronald Reagan were extremely interested in that wall. Because they kept receiving radio transmissions from a direct point in the wall. Like there was a hidden house there or something.

Officers that are sleeping right now… Drenden grumbled mentally.

He clicked a button on a dashboard, switching his mic channel to a different frequency. "Hotel Actual, half hour check–in. Nothing to report." Hotel Actual was actually in a Boeing radar aircraft, circling the city slowly at 40,000 feet and monitoring the different agents in the field; he was the immediate commanding officer for the Task Force's deployed soldiers. He reported to the General directly.

"Very well, Foxtrot Actual. Continue the search."

Drenden sighed. This was proving to be a very boring assignment. Suddenly, he heard chatter from his other channel with Foxtrot. He switched his frequency quickly.

"–flying bodies!"

"What?" He raised an eyebrow. "Repeat that."

"We saw three body bags fly over us, sir, just a moment ago!"

This has got to be wizards.

"One just smacked into a tree, sir. But it's still going."

Really strange wizards.

"They're headed for the house, sir! Er, the space between them."

He blinked, and focused his eyes on the computer screen. Sure enough, after a minute, he saw three body bags fly through the air and into the brick wall. They disappeared.

He blinked again. He clicked the comm over to Hotel Actual's frequency. "Uh, Hotel Actual, this is Foxtrot Actual."

"We read you, Foxtrot."

"We just saw three body bags fly through the air and into the brick wall. I mean, uh, through the brick wall, sir. They're gone."

"They disappeared into the brick wall?"

"Yes."

There was a period of silence.

"Very well. Foxtrot Actual, we're sending an assault team to your location. They'll be setting up defensive positions outside the houses; we will contact the British police to silently evacuate the residents."

He nodded. "Yes, sir." This would prove to be interesting.

A few hours later, on board the U.S.S. Ronald Reagan.

The General rubbed his eyes gently with his hand. "So the bodies flew into the wall? Are these the same ones from yesterday?"

The analyst nodded. "Yes sir. We believe so."

"Has there been any activity since then?"

"No sir."

The General walked over to where the Major and Colonel were eating a light breakfast. Beside them, a computer screen showed an aerial image of the outside of the house; an Army Ranger squad lay hidden behind a small natural hill and two sniper teams lay prone farther behind them, with clear sights to the mysterious brick wall. They had set up C4 in front of the wall, camouflaged as a passerby tossing a bit of litter, in case they needed to remotely trigger an explosion.

All they waited for was…well…something to happen. They assumed that there was a wizard, three dead bodies and a tortured, possibly mind-controlled agent hidden inside.

"Are there any civilians nearby?"

The analyst had followed him to the breakfast table. "No sir. There was a reported 'gas leak' which led to the civilians' evacuation."

He grunted. The Colonel piped up. "I expect that there will be a lot of 'gas leaks' in the next few weeks."

He grunted again. This operation had fairly undefined goals for a simple reason: they had no idea what they were dealing with. They were discovering an entire new culture, nation and type of warfare. This would change everything.

Best not to screw it up, then.

As Bobby and Rusty were eating dinner the night before, a neighbor ran up, frantically knocking at the door. Arthur excused himself and ran off. Unfortunately, the children were nowhere to be found; school would begin soon and they were off preparing. They'd be back soon.

With Arthur gone, Molly entertained them by talking about their kids. She spoke fondly of them all: Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron and Ginny.

"The wedding's just about a week away." She finished. Bobby and Rusty had listened attentively; listening proved to be one of the best ways to establish trust. This proved true in this case, as well as any other. "Now. Enough about me. What are you two visiting the area for?" She questioned, leaning her head slightly. "This is, well…it's not the best time to visit." She glanced towards the door, fidgeting.

They could tell she was worried about Arthur. "Ah, we're just–"

They were saved by answering by dual colossal explosions that rocked the ground they stood on. Molly looked like her heart had frozen; Bobby and Rusty shot out of their chairs, hands close to their hidden pistols. Molly didn't notice.

The three of them raced outside. After turning around, they saw plumes of smoke rising from a house a ways on down the block. In addition, Arthur jogged back to the Burrow with a confused look on his face.

"Oh, Arthur! Dear, are you alright?" Molly clasped his hand with both of hers, her eyes searching him over for wounds. He turned out to be entirely fine.

"I'm fine, actually." He said with furrowed brow. "There were Death Eaters terrorizing a family down the way; I was on my way to help defend them when…well…" He motioned with his hands. "They exploded."

"What?"

"They just suddenly blew up. Like someone snuck up and cast a particularly powerful spell. I don't really know." He shrugged. "But they're definitely dead. We found–"

"Ugh, don't tell me." Molly shook her head and waked back to the house, huffing. Arthur smiled after her tenderly and turned to his guests.

"I apologize for not being here for the majority of dinner; my neighbor asked me to check out the attack and help. Luckily, it worked itself out." Arthur smiled at them, but also watched them. He was beginning to suspect them. It is a strange coincidence that a third party blows up Death Eaters the same day that he happens to meet two friendly strangers on one of the very rare nights that he goes out for a drink…

Not to mention that, for wizards, they know nothing magical.

And not to mention that he's never even met an American wizard before. Tourism is not as common among the wizards, it seems. For two to show up this far in the war?

Bobby nodded graciously. "No problem, Arthur. We're just sad we missed your kids." He nodded towards Molly. "She told us all about them. They sure sound like a rowdy bunch!"

"And congratulations on the upcomin' nuptials!" Rusty clapped a hand on Arthur's shoulder congenially. Arthur grinned. "For your kid, o' course." They laughed.

"Well, you both can stay the night here, of course. I want you both to meet the kids." Bobby and Rusty nodded. "In fact, there're a few more than we usually have. Did my wife tell you about them?"

Rusty shook his head. "Nope."

"Well! There's a boy named Harry Potter; surely you've heard of him…"

The wall moved.

Well, it wasn't exactly the wall; but a hooded figure exited the wall. Behind him walked out two others, all armed with broomsticks. The bugs they planted near the wall picked up their conversation; as they listened, Foxtrot Actual whispered, "Hold fire." He didn't want to lose this valuable intel.

"We must intercept the boy before he flees the house. We will meet with the others near Privet Drive."

"But what about the, uh…"

"The soldier we interrogated?"

"Yes. And what he said."

"The Dark Lord must know about this." The tallest one–whose voice they recognized as the interrogator from a few nights before–exhaled heavily. "Muggles trying to interfere will not please him."

One of the others chuckled. "I think it will, actually. He'll enjoy slaughtering them."

"As he always does." The final one said, with a hint of disgust. "Drawing too much notice. That's how this happened!" He motioned behind him.

"I still don't understand how they died." The middle one mused. They must have been speaking about the three corpses. "Luckily our charm worked; otherwise, we never would've known how they died."

The tallest one shook his head. "It doesn't matter. This house is secure under the Fidelius Charm; no one can find it except us three."

"What about the Dark Lord?"

"Actually," the tallest said, in a somewhat surprised voice, "he doesn't. I probably ought to change that soon."

They motioned to begin getting on their broomsticks. As Foxtrot Actual watched this, he knew that they weren't getting any more intel.

"Detonate."

The sergeant blew the C4 charge, causing a massive explosion beneath the wizards' feet. They were wholly unprepared. Two of them no longer had recognizable bodies, while the tallest lacked half his torso and his legs. In any case, they were all dead.

"It seems the squad wasn't necessary." Foxtrot Actual murmured. "Sergeant: secure the –what? What's happening?"

All of a sudden, the houses began to shake; and, splitting, the two houses suddenly made room for a third. It appeared literally out of nowhere. But, somehow, everything else remained the same–like the house was always there.

In the front lawn lay four corpses: the three wizards that were shot two days ago, along with the corpse of former Lieutenant Greene. It seems that even informant Muggles (albeit forced) are not spared by the wizards.

Shaken, Foxtrot Actual struggled to repeat his order. "Uh…Sergeant! Make sure…go clean this all up."

The sergeant acknowledged his order and called in a Humvee transport. Within the hour, it was like nothing had happened. Except that there was a new house.

"We'll just have to hope no one notices?"

Major Kernan winced. A new house appearing on a block is bound to raise questions. The General waved his hands. "Gas leaks are mysterious things. Who knows what could happen?"

"Oh, be serious." The Colonel growled. "This isn't important anyway. They'll get over it. What are they going to say? The government added a new house to my block in a day?"

Good point.

"Anyway, we have bigger concerns." The General nodded. The Major turned to his head analyst. "What do you know about Privet Drive?"

"Well, there's nothing exciting or different. Except…one child is enrolled in a school that he's never been to."

The Major quirked an eyebrow. "Eh?"

"Harry Potter. Lives in the Dursley household." He looked over a printout he had. "Records show that he's enrolled in St. Mungo's, but he's never been on any class roster."

"Harry Potter? I've read that name." The Major commented. He flipped out his phone, searching through recent documents that were texted to him. "Hmm…ah, yes. Mentioned by the Weasley assets. He is one of the most renowned wizards–great potential and power and survived unsurvivable curses." The Major looked up. "And he's about to turn 17."

"Colonel, Major: I think it's about time we had an intelligence briefing to go over what we've learned." The General began walking towards the interior of the ship. "We have much to discuss."

Harry Potter stood and watched other Harry Potters get dressed. Needless to say, it was awkward. Frankly, he couldn't look any of the girls in the eye afterwards; when they were able to literally be in his body…

He turned his mind away from unpleasant thoughts to merely horrifying ones; Lord Voldemort wants to murder him, and it may very well happen tonight. He was tempted to just leave now and evade his notice. In fact, he had an idea earlier–quite a brilliant one, so he thought. Get in the trunk of the car in the garage and get someone unrecognizable to drive it to work. Then he gets out and–voila! He's escaped the trap! They literally would never expect it. It's like cars are invisible to wizards.

Of course, he suggested this idea to wizards. Which means that they didn't expect it either. Too complicated! Too risky! And frankly, too unknown.

Harry's been in a car plenty of times (read: every day of his childhood), so he was familiar with it. Hermoine would be down with it, he thought; she probably even had a driver's license. Depending on what she did during summers.

"Don't get too comfortable, Harry!" A voice said to him. His voice, actually. From one of the clones. He cringed.

"Can you all just…not speak while you're me?"

A couple of them laughed but obliged him. Do I really sound like that when I laugh? Harry internally sighed.

"Get ready." One of him said. Harry suppressed his cringe. "We leave in five minutes."

He could not wait for this to be over. Hopefully not in the permanent sense, though. That'd be bad.

Alright, Harry. He told himself. Focus. Pull the thoughts in. He took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself. His heart was racing. He rolled his shoulders, closing his eyes for a moment.

Perhaps this will go smoothly. He thought to himself. After all, this is supposed to be a surprise. He nodded confidently. Yeah, no one knows about this but us. I'm sure.

"So who doesn't know that this Potter fellow is being moved tonight?"

The head analyst shrugged. "It seems like all the parties involved know about it. Including us."

The Colonel rolled his eyes. "Clearly."

The General had gathered the heads of different departments into the briefing room, where they meant to review their collective knowledge and establish a plan of attack. So far, they discussed the Ministry organization, spells and magical culture–Arthur was very helpful with that, albeit indirectly and unknowingly–and were now on the topic of Harry's imminent transfer.

"Gentlemen," the General began, "so far, the Ministry of Magic appears to be the side we need to support. They seek order and a form of justice in the magical community and extend rights to non-magical folk. Muggles, as they call us."

He glanced around the room. "As it stands, their leadership seems to be focused around this Harry Potter fellow as a key to winning the war against the Dark Lord. They refuse to speak his name." He shrugged. "Since we don't know it, I suppose we'll refrain as well."

Major Kernan continued the briefing. "We've recovered broomsticks which we assume is their primary mode of transportation besides teleportation." He clicked a button and an image came on-screen. "This is Privet Drive. Our eavesdropping revealed that the Dark Lord's forces plan to stage an aerial assault against Mr. Potter as he evacuates. We have sources in connection with the Weasley household, which is coincidentally where Mr. Potter often stays with his best friends. Our operatives there will continue to maintain contact and hopefully develop friendships with the Weasleys and Mr. Potter."

The General resumed speaking. "We have a UAV deployed over the target area to mark targets of interest as they leave the home. I want a fighter squadron scrambled immediately and sent to that location. We can assume the wizards have high evasiveness and speed; we will therefore use High Explosive Fragmentary Munitions as well as Fuel Explosive Bombs against the targets that we mark as hostile. The latter is only to be used if there are no friendlies in the blast radius."

"General: wouldn't that make everyone aware of third party involvement? Especially on such an important mission?" The Colonel interjected.

"Indeed, Colonel." General Winters nodded. "My goal is to establish an alliance with a group. I am still evaluating the Ministry, as I feel that their leadership is distinct and different from Mr. Potter's group; from what we have heard, he has been involved in many missions against the Dark Lord with a small group. Perhaps they are a fourth party. Or a subgroup of the Ministry." He shrugged. "In any case, I believe them to be potential allies. We will aid them as we can and continue surveillance with our plants."

He looked around the room. Heads were nodding in agreement; he saw no more questions raised.

"Very well. Scramble the fighters. Dismissed."

Claxons blared. Major Wilks sat in the cockpit of his F-22 Raptor as it taxied down the runway of the British airbase.

"Raptor Leader, you are cleared for takeoff."

The Major clicked his radio in response and punched the throttle. The engine whined and roared as the Raptor sped down the runway, lifting slightly off the ground. With a slight tug on the stick, the jet slid up, climbing thousands of feet. He smiled; few experiences were as glorious and incredible as flying the Raptor. Perhaps the best aircraft in the Air Force.

He leveled out and tapped his comm. "Raptor Squadron, check-in."

"One."

"Two."

And so on, until the final member checked in. Raptor Squadron was ready to fly.

The target was not very far away; only a few minutes. Regardless, they all felt a need to rush. Hotel Actual designated targets on their HUD.

"Raptor Squadron, we've identified eight hostiles. There are a lot of friendlies and unknowns in the same area flying close by; we will give you clearance when a target is far enough away to fire a HEF missile."

"Raptor copies, Hotel Actual." Major Wilks responded. This would be interesting.

Harry flew in mild terror.

Wizards flew about him–sparks of light flashed and muted yells could be heard all around him. Certain Harrys split off above him; some curled in strange patterns, hoping to shake an enemy too close to their tail; but Harry flew fairly predictably. Which was hopefully unpredictable. For him, anyway. Crazy child.

He pointed his wand, about to shout out his traditional spell of 'Expelliarmus' when he caught a glimpse of something far off. One of the Death Eaters was looping above one of the Harrys, attempting to out-maneuver him, when a strange-looking point of light (though it was dim enough to remain hard to see in the dark night) few impossibly quickly towards him. Harry had only time to tilt his head in curiosity before the point was no longer far away, but right on top of the Death Eater.

Then there was a bright flash, followed by a wave of air so dense that he could feel it washed over him, along with the mighty BOOM that almost threw him off his broom. The Death Eater was nowhere to be seen.

"What in bloody–" Someone yelled near him. His thought was left unfinished by another BOOM and flash of light–this one significantly to the left. Harry didn't feel a shockwave, as he did from the previous explosion.

These flashes of light certainly changed the tempo of the battle. None of the Death Eaters wanted to venture far off; the Harrys decided to attempt to lose them by simply heading off into the sky, tempting Death Eaters to follow them. If any did, but didn't stick close enough to the Harry they were chasing, there would be a flash of light and they would explode.

Harry suddenly felt a lot better about his chances.

Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord, Master of the Death Eaters and Holder of the Horcruxes, found himself grounded.

He was about to leap up into the battle, surprising the fools and their multiple Harry Potters (he snarled the name, even as he thought it), until he saw one of his Death Eaters explode. Then another. He sent the Death Eater beside him up; only after a minute of flying, he exploded. Whatever sorcery this was, Lord Voldemort did not approve. He transfigured a nearby rock into a kitten and pointed his wand angrily.

"Avada kedavra!" In a flash of green light, the poor kitten died. He smiled. Because he's evil like that.

The next morning, the news anchor began to recite the local news. "…the Air Force put on a fireworks display over Privet Drive last evening, as a celebration of the anniversary of the Air Force's victory during World War II." She neglected to mention which victory. Mainly because the Air Force made that up. "In other news, there was a rather unfortunate gas leak in Mableton…"