Chapter 1:

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All rights belong to J.K. Rowling.

"Fuck you."

"Please Harry we need you."

The person sitting across from me had a medium build, with a thin frame and slight muscles. His messy black hair was a rat's nest, much like mine would be if it was longer. He wore thick glasses which was the most normal piece of clothing on him. His wizard robes were fitted and well kept, like someone had run them through the wash a hundred times.

Or put a cleaning charm on them.

I looked at the almost man in front of me again.

"No Will"

His face falls.

"You don't understand our situation," he pleaded, "Voldemort keeps gaining strength, he is nearly unstoppable, his spies are everywhere, people keep dying."

I look into his eyes.

"I don't care."

His brows furrow. My experienced eye takes notice of his clenched fists and red ears.

"Fine." He says standing up and turning away. "Just don't come running to me when he starts coming after muggles. I'll probably be dead anyway."

My face hardens, "We'll be ready" I say.

"Maybe, but is that what you want?" He says opening the door.

"Wait."

He half turns.

"Will your parents be there?" I ask.

"Yes," he says quietly, "but I didn't tell them I was visiting you about this."

I nod and look away. "Thank you."

"You understand you won't be able to avoid this war for long. He'll come after muggles next, and then there'll be a genocide. Who the victims will be won't matter." Will's posture is defeated like he knows my answer."

I take a moment to consider this. Despite what the man in front of me believes, I've been watching Voldemort and his Death Eaters carefully. There is no doubt in my mind that the minute the ministry falls, new laws for muggles will come up. The Statute of Secrecy will come crumbling down, and there will be war. And once that starts the wizarding world will be rocked to its core.

"I have one question before you leave," I say, "Why me?"

He chuckles, "Why you? It's obvious isn't it?"

"Yes but I want to hear you say it."

This time he laughs, "Despite what everyone thinks about muggles, I know the key to winning this war lies with them. And you are the only person I know, muggle or magical, who has any experience at all with muggle warfare. And from what you've told me, you could take out the Minister of Magic with one eye closed and one hand behind your back. There is no one more qualified than you to beat Voldemort."

"Other than yourself, you mean?" I counter.

He glares at me, "I am inexperienced and you know it. The only reason I'm even involved with it is that stupid farce of a prophecy that somehow both Voldemort and Dumbledore believe in."

"So you don't think it's true?" I ask.

He looks conflicted, "I don't know." He says, "All I know is that Trelawney is a fraud, and if it were anything else I wouldn't even look twice at it."

I nod, "Fair enough I suppose."

"Well?" he prompts, "will you do it?"

"I already told you," I say sternly, "I can't get involved right now."

His expression falls, "very well then." He says stiffly, "If you change your mind you know how to find me."

"Yea I'll see you then," I say turning around, "Brother."

I hear the distinct crack of apparition as Will leaves and snort, what's the point of teleporting if you can't do it silently? It's like a giant red alarm that just announces whenever you enter somewhere. I lie down on my bed shaking my head.

Wizards.

They must be the most backward people on the earth. At least the terrorists in the Middle East have the decency to acknowledge that modern weapons are the most powerful tools of destruction in the world. I mean the best wizards can do in terms of true power is some crazy elemental shit. Muggles on the other had could blow up the planet if they tried hard enough. Wizards' refusal to even take note of anything muggle is the worst underestimation in history.

I'm brought out of my musings when my phone starts buzzing.

Shit. I forgot I have work today.

I pick up my phone, glance at the address, and the name, and snag my suitcase on the way out. Good thing I packed everything this morning. I shot a look at the clock, 3:50, perfect. Two hours there and two back, with three in-between for the job. I'll be back for a late dinner.

I jump on the Eu-rail train that happens to be a block over and head for Amsterdam.

On the way, I go over my mental list, Sniper rifle, check, semi-automatic, yep, assorted grenades, right here, I go down the list slowly.

This should be a fairly simple job, just a small level arms dealer, who made some deals with some unauthorized clients. Quick and easy, I'll have plenty of time to chill after, maybe even get laid.

I get off the train and make my way over to the limousine waiting for me.

I have to say, international crime organizations sure have style. They're the only ones who can afford good hit men like me anyway.

The drive takes maybe a half an hour, but it feels like eternity. That's how I always feel before combat, especially back when I was a righteous, ho-rah soldier with a stick up my ass a mile long.

The car stops in front of a dark alley that looks like the place mothers tell their kids to never go into.

My driver never spares me a glace but says, "The target should be in a small clearing around the corner, he's meeting with someone, but we don't care who it is. Take everyone out."

I nod, easy enough; low level dealers usually have three or four guys around them. While the other guys might have a few more, a well-placed flash-bang and some random gun fire should finish it quickly.

I snap a suppressor onto my SA-80 assault rifle, hey working with arms dealers has its perks, and hop out of the car. I swing my black trench coat around my shoulders and put on my gray beanie hat and round sunglasses so no one will recognize me, and stalk down the alley.

I find the clearing easy enough and immediately crouch behind a wall.

The target is there all right, and he's not alone. My estimate was spot on, he's got four thugs with him, but it's who he's talking to that makes me freeze.

There are five of them, wearing long black robes with the hoods up. But in the dim light of the late afternoon it's easy to make out the bone white skull masks that each of them wear.

Death Eaters

What the fuck are they doing here? They hate muggles, and no way in hell would they buy weapons from these guys, not when they have their precious magic.

They must have some sort of privacy ward around them because I can't hear a word they say.

As I watch however, one of the Death Munchers comes forward with a box. He opens it and I can observe seven rune stones inside. I remember my mother creating a few to put in the garden. They're basically substitutes for enchantments, they carry a single spell and you can use them to keep the spell going.

But what would a arms dealer want with them. I never learned anything about runes so I have no idea what those do, but in the hands of criminals it must not be good.

I realize I have been crouching for a while now and the deal is almost over. I'll have to move quickly.

I carefully lean down, drop my bag, and role a flash-bang into the middle of the group.

One…Two…THREE!

My bomb explodes out with a tremendous BANG! While the Death Eaters and thugs are reeling I spring into action.

My assault rifle comes up automatically, and I fire a short burst at the stunned Death Eaters. Two go down almost immediately but a third manages to cast a weak Protego. My bullets bounce off but I'm not worried, I may not be able to hit them, but they can't shoot me either, a Protego works both ways.

Instead I momentarily turn my attention to my real target, who is on the ground clutching his head in a desperate attempt to stop the ringing in his ears. I quickly put him down before turning back to the three Death Eaters who are still cowering behind the Protego. I look around, the other thugs have fled, not that I care. Guess their loyalty doesn't extend to dealings with the magical world.

The Death Eaters haven't moved from behind the shield.

I can't help it.

"Well, well, well, looks like we got ourselves a good ole' fashion Mexican Standoff." I say grinning with my best American accent.

"Do you know who we are, filthy muggle Scum!" shouts one of the wizards.

"No, not really," I say hefting my gun and pointing it at the still glowing sphere of gold, "You just look like a bunch of cultist freaks hiding behind some weird ass shield thing. Why don't you take it down and we'll find out who the real men are here."

The Death Eaters growl menacingly. The one on the right suddenly lunges out of the shield with a killing curse on his lips. His wand already turning an eerie green as the deadly magic gathered at its tip.

He made it about two steps before a powerful burst of molten hot metal exploded into his chest.

The other two dumb-asses just watch with shocked and frightened expressions as their buddy hits the floor. They are still holding the Protego.

"Idiot," I mutter under my breath, "must be all that inbreeding."

The other Death Eaters finally get impatient. "We'll just cast on him at the same time." One of them snarls.

I roll my eyes at the blatant lack of common sense. That's like rule one or something! Never tell your enemy what you're about to do. Duh

The one holding the Protego yells, "NOW!" He drops the spell and immediately I open fire.

My bullets strike both of them in the head before they can utter a word. As they fall however, I hear the sounds of sirens rapidly approaching. I quickly scan the area for any more enemies, grab my bag from where I dropped it, and turn to leave.

I suddenly hear a slight moan and I whip my head around just as the third Death Eater who I shot in the chest apparates out with a muffled crack. I curse violently under my breath.

This could have dire consequences. If Voldemort somehow figures out who I am, he'll come after me or decide that muggles have declared war on him. Or worse, if he decides that muggle weapons are indeed powerful and starts using them.

The second option would probably spell the end of humanity as Voldemort would waste no time putting the Imperious on some muggle general with access to nuclear codes. However, that is probably unlikely. What is more likely is that he finds me or starts attacking random muggles.

There is only one thing to do as I get back in the limo. I have to stop by Charing Cross Road tomorrow. I just hope old Tom remembers me.