Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and the universe of Call of Duty belong to their respective creators.

Who Dares Wins

West Country England

Potter Residence, Godric's Hollow

Saturday Oct. 31st, 1981

MacMillan, S.A.S

Mac had been a soldier for maybe a year. In that brief bit of time he thought nothing could match what he's been trained for. The selection process alone had him mentally in dark places, but through it all he pulled though and was now among elite. To be the sharpest of tools at his majesty's call of service. But upon arrival at Hereford an emergency call was made to a peaceful village. The long string of terrorist attacks had the higher ups on edge and the populace in near frightful panic. One of the many reasons why he signed up was because of these attacks. The people of the UK are mentally tough, and some would say resilient, but for the last two decades the increasing number of violent acts has made them weary to say the least.

A true son of Scotland Mac had always been sharp witted and quick to fight. All the scraps of his childhood days merely proving grounds for whatever may lay ahead. Born and raised in the rough streets of Glasgow he knew nothing else but fighting for something right, even if it wasn't the 'easy' choice available. If anyone asked, he would always claim 'scotch and wrong choices' as the main drive for enlistment.

A scuffle of small sounds disturbed the stillness of the night. With sharp practice honed by intense training all movement ceased. Seconds had passed and the silent order was given for them to move on.

An anonymous tip had been given to the lads over at intelligence saying the terrorist leader himself would be leading this attack himself. To say nothing of the excited enthusiasm that every team member felt at having a go at the fucker who killed indiscriminately would be the understatement of the year. For Mac especially as one of his 'distant' relatives had recently lost both her husband and child to this bastard. This would not be just payback; vengeance would be the judgement of the night.

"…status?" A welsh accent sounded in his earpiece. "Alpha Six what's your status?" Mac quickly shook himself; he couldn't afford to lose concentration now.

"Alpha Six in position and standing by!" He responded shakily and with a little heated urgency in his tone.

"Easy there boyo, you'll get your chance soon." The accent responded back in both displeasure and measured calm.

"Roger." Mac affirmed and awaited patiently in the alley near the supposed target location. While the tip helped them track down the target leader, they had a hell of a time figuring out where the targeted house in this little village was. It was a very strange enough atmosphere as it was. Though few and far between knew or followed the practice anymore, All Hollows Eve still had some great significance to certain families; Mac's family was one such. Gifts and offerings for those long since parted or even recently. As a child Mac participated mainly for the food and because his favored 'aunt' would spoil him rotten. Nowadays he finds it silly but still respects the tradition that the dead be respected, his mates simply mistake him for a catholic because of this and Mac says nothing to dispute it.

Time was wasting slowly and quickly with each minute ticking by and the men were feeling it. Time was their greatest enemy now as the mind began to play tricks on them with unseen noises, shadows of movement and other things that made soldiers jump or twitch at.

"Alpha One we have been waiting a while. Where the fuck is this prick?!" The irritated East Londoner voiced what they were all thinking but was all the same chastised.

"Alpha Four maintain position and radio silence; he'll be here." Mac may not have been totally experienced yet, but a certain part of him thought the Captain said the last part trying to convince himself more so then anybody else. And he also felt something off. As men of action, what the bloody hell were they waiting for?!

Please…

Wait a minute.

Please…

"All call signs; Alpha Six. Anyone else hear that?" Mac was slowly starting to suspiciously think himself crazy hearing things. Either that or he was experiencing technical issues again. It was shite being the FNG after all. Seconds passed and his Captain responded.

"Negative Alpha Six. Must be static discharge in the sets." Mac still could not shake this feeling, however—

Please…

"There it is again!" His impatience and youth were starting to get the better of him but now he frankly didn't give a rat's arse. More seconds ticked by. This time before a word could be said a growing roar of air came from all around them. It was building up like a rising vacuum and as it reached a crescendo it stilled. "What the bl—" And suddenly with great force a loud pop of explosive force resounded across the little village. The force of the explosion was deafening, and Mac could feel his jaw moving in screams, but the ringing of whistles and bells prevailed in his ears. A gloved hand gripped his shouldered bodysuit hauling him from the cobbled ground.

"…rig…? …you…right?" Slowly it was coming back to him. "Alpha Six, you all right mate?!" Mac stood back to his feet and shaking his head groaned in frustration.

"What the fuck just happened?!" Alpha Four shouted equally frustrated. "Where the bloody hell that come from?"

"Alpha Four standby. Base this is Alpha One, we have an explosion…"

Please, not my boy…

Whatever happened next Mac would not be able to recall. What he did remember though was running as fast as he could to where it happened and where the voice was calling from. Running boots on cobblestone roads, heavy breathing in his black filtrated mask, his blood and accelerated heartbeat pounding would have deafened him were it not for the voice. A voice that drowned out everything else around him. Nearing his destination had him slow into a low stalking posture with his weapon aimed at the ready. What was before him was disastrous as he came to a stop to survey the house. The cottage house looked burnt, caved in and in some places smoldering. How did they miss this? What could have done an explosion like the one he felt but not damage the surrounding area? Was he truly ready for this? A twisting grip spun him in place to face his Welsh Captain's wrath. The man said nothing, but his posture showed he wanted an explanation.

Neither had a chance as a raw piercing ethereal like scream filled the area for perhaps miles around. Weapons immediately snapped up at the ready and with a silent order they all advanced in tactical single file. Breaching the bottom half, the place was a jumbled and destroyed mess. Burn marks and explosive tracks decorated the once homely interior. Splitting in twos they searched the rooms with nothing turned up. Silently they assembled to the bottom of the stairs.

"Move up." Alpha One ordered and as one they made their way up the steps. All throughout the search Mac still up next to nothing as far as what could have logically caused such destruction and chaos. The wooden bannister of the staircase was warped and cracked in places, burn marks sizzled and snapped here and there amongst the floors and ceiling, and the walled section of the stairs had all the markings of someone taking a flamethrower and grenade to it before ending abruptly. The cause of which was soon discovered as the leading Alpha member stopped barely halfway up the stairs; his hand raised in the air in a clenched fist while his weapon was aimed at the ready.

"Body." Mac himself couldn't see the body directly but suspected and feared this to be one of the occupants of the house.

"Status?" Alpha One questioned to the point man.

"Male; No sign of activity." Cold and deadpanned came the response.

"Move on." There was nothing for it. All they could do was keep moving to the next floor. "Alpha Two Four and Five break left. Three and Six, you're with me." Mac moved from the rear of the line to catch up. As he passed the male body he paused almost briefly to look. The man had black disheveled hair, dark colored eyes and glasses. His clothing was nearly neat and untouched, jumper top and casual trousers. Practically nothing out of the ordinary save for one thing; as dead as his eyes indicated there was not a scratch, bullet hole, shrapnel wound, burn mark or anything for that matter on him. It looked as if quite literally the life was snatched from his body. "Alpha Six on me."

Mac could not stop to think right now. His team was counting on him to do a job. As the others moved left Mac moved right of the stairs landing. Each man stalked low and smooth with weapons trained to cover the advance. In close quarters like this anyone and anything could jump out from nowhere.

"Door left." Alpha One called. When he neared, he stilled to an immediate stop as Alpha Three approached said door for breach and clear. The door swung open and Alpha Three began sweeping the room. From inside the call of 'clear' came through and they moved on to the last door at the end of the hallway. The door was closed but a ray of light emanated from underneath it. The closer they got to the door the brighter the light began to shine. "Mac get the door. We'll cover." Mac moved ahead of them both to get into position. His hand barely touched the handle when the light became blinding to the extreme for a second and vanished completely in the same instant. This is starting to become stranger than normal, before he could finish the thought an airtight explosion of force blew out from the room. The door became obliterated into thousands of little wooden pieces of shrapnel. Mac, for his part, was blown back three feet from the door; the wind knocked out from his lungs.

Once Mac rolled about in a somewhat dazed confusion. In his blurred state looking about his mates from the other section moved rapid like to secure the Captain and Alpha Three. Something compelled Mac to look back toward the room, the interior was covered in billowing cloud of smoke. Fire? No t didn't seem possible. Though a shape began to coalesce from within it, a dark human like shape that somehow gave off an evil aura.

"CONTACT!" Mac didn't feel his main weapon in hand so withdrew his sidearm; emotions high he emptied the entire mag into this 'thing'. A couple seconds from his first few rounds a chatter of SMG rounds followed suit into whatever the hell Mac saw. Mac could see it tun towards him slowly and screamed a banshee like screech as Mac reloaded and began emptying his second clip. "YEAH FUCK YOU TOO YA PRICK! COM' AND 'AVE A GO YA BASTAR'D!" Mac shouted more obscenities that night than he ever will in the many years to come. With every word his thick Scottish brogue more heightened and colorful.

"Check fire. Check your fire!" The volume of shooting ceased, and an eerie stillness filled the area. A few shell casings clattering here and there; spent and smoking from use. Mac scanned about seeing nothing and no one before him, either in the hallway opposite room or doorway.

"Bloody hell, what the fuck was that thing?!" The East Londoner once more vocal about his thoughts on things. Mac ignored him and everyone else. Bolting upright from his prone spot on the floor he came through the doorway's remains scanning left and right for other contacts. Whatever he believed to be in there seemed to not exist at all. The room was clean save for some black heavy cloth, toys and decor—

He knew it. His heart broke in ways that no young man could make an experienced veteran understand. He saw a woman, her physical age making her slightly older than him. Her fiery red hair splayed out and around her head in an angelic halo of sorts. Her emerald green eyes that once might have been full of life love and pure joy, now only the cold empty pits remained. Like the man that lied out in the hallway stairs she looked untouched and unscathed. She was simply cut down before her time. He knelt beside her slowly. A trembling gloved hand moved to cover her eyes gently giving, for all the world, the impression she merely lay sleeping before laying his hand to rest on her head, a silent prayer passing through his lips for her soul.

At the end of his payer he heard a small sound. A cry, a gurgle, a whimper; he couldn't place it. But a compelling warmth began to overtake his senses, his human emotions now taking charge. Somewhere amidst all this he misplaced his sidearm, but right now his only concern was a little bundle of swaddled cloth in a half-broken child's cot. He stood dumbfounded beside it watching helpless as his limbs proceeded to move without command. As his hands moved frantically to secure the wee one it began to stir restless as if from a nightmare. Mac could only bear party to what his body instinctually reacted to, with the wee thing cradled comfortably to his black body armored jumpsuit his free hand forcibly pulling up and away his mask revealing his sweaty Scottish face.

He could only imagine what the scene looked to his mates watching him hold a quietly sobbing babe, himself choking up with emotion hushing a Gaelic lullaby; one that used to be sung to him as a wee child himself. The poor thing eventually fell asleep in Mac's arms. One of his small hands clutched to the body vest in a sort of vice like grip. Another grasped desperately in affection to one of Mac's fingers, the glove like everything else discarded amongst the menagerie of items loosely about or missing. This feeling felt both strangely foreign, like it was someone else's feelings, and at the same time right; the safety of the child a priority above others.

"The house is all clear sir." Alpha Five reported walking back in the room from a second sweep of the house. "Whatever happened, it looks like the main objective was in this room." His masked head nudged over in Mac's direction silently leaving open a yet unasked question. Mac occasionally glanced up to his teammates, but still his eyes were focused on nothing and no one else but the boy. Looking at his soft face he noticed an odd shaped wound that was slowly clotting up to become a scar. The cruelty of it all, harming children for any reason or guilty planning was just; evil, to put it simply.

"Why?" Mac had nothing left and was running on fumes, but holding the wee babe gave him a comforting warmth that only continued to grow. He wasn't even truly searching for any answer at all but felt that any reason was better than none.

"When it comes to terrorists does it matter?" At Alpha Four's words there was one or two affirmations in response. "I was there for the Iranian embassy siege just last year. Trust me mate, their reasons then weren't any better than the one caused for all this."

"Who Dares Wins!"

"Too righ' mate!"

"Who Dares Wins." The captain, who remained quiet during this exchange, now spoke in confirmation to the cause behind what it is they do. "What say you MacMillan?" Every pair of eyes was solely squared on Mac and what he had to say. Mac was not even fazed the using of his name as opposed his call sign.

"Permission to speak freely sir?" Mac refused to allow emotion in this, but it has ways of sneaking though. His voice choking up was no exception. His eyes never straining from the bundled babe he carried on as silence stretched. "I believe that we are now involved in something that is beyond our A.O.E." He could feel their confusion more than seeing it.

"Whatcha sayin' there mate?"

"I believe," he paused in brief hesitation, "I believe that we have stepped in somethin'. Somethin' magical." Even as he said that last word, he could've sworn the babe smiled up to him, even in sleep. The others scoffed sniffed or otherwise thought him bonkers. Alpha Four now probably thought him a sentimental wanker for how he talked and acted just now. Only the captain said nothing. He moved to stand beside Mac with a free hand lifting his mask partway up to reveal his face while still wearing it.

"Sir?" Mac saw him out the corner of his eye and noted the curious look in his Welsh captain's eyes. A look borne out of sympathetic camaraderie as well as hardened experience.

"Set up a perimeter and standby." The captain turned slightly shouting the order over the shoulder. "I got to make a call." He patted Mac's shoulder once before walking out the room, giving commands as he went. Somewhere in the back of Mac's mind he felt that the captain was no doubt going to call her.

Who Dares Wins.

Authors Note: This one shot originally came about because of the recently released Call of Duty Modern Warfare. Anybody who wishes to see the full story line aspect I recommend watching Gamer's Little Playground (username/channel) on YouTube. I sincerely apologize for any and all mistakes regarding the British Armed Forces and the SAS. For those of you who follow my Game of Thrones story this is merely a one-shot idea in order to give my muse a break. If I get enough positive feedback, I may continue this story. However, if anyone is interested in taking it over PM me. This story was done in collaboration with Daffyduck527. As this will be posted the 11th of November be sure to thank and remember those who serve, have served or served and long since passed; Veteran's Day.

Sincerely Marinebrat25