The underground briefing room was dimly lit, its concrete walls bare except for a large screen displaying a map of the UK. A row of high-tech surveillance equipment lined the back wall, casting a faint blue glow across the room. Captain Price stood at the head of the table, his eyes scanning the faces of his team as they settled into their seats. Gaz, Soap, Ghost, and Farah—each one a seasoned operator, each one looking at him with a mix of curiosity and skepticism.
Laswell was already seated beside him, her usual composed expression giving nothing away. Price knew this briefing was going to be unlike any they’d had before, and he could sense the tension in the room.
“Alright, listen up,” Price began, his voice firm. “What we’re about to discuss stays in this room. What I’m about to show you is classified at the highest level. Not just top secret—this is beyond anything you’ve been briefed on before.”
Soap smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Come on, Price. You’ve dragged us into some pretty wild shit before. What’s this, then? Aliens?”
The others chuckled, but Price didn’t smile. He stared at Soap, his expression dead serious. “No, MacTavish. Not aliens. Something worse.”
That got their attention. The chuckles died down, and the team leaned in slightly, waiting for Price to continue.
Price exchanged a glance with Laswell, who nodded and activated the screen. A grainy black-and-white video began to play. The image was shaky, clearly taken from a distance, but it showed a dark, shadowy figure gliding across a battlefield. As the figure moved, the ground beneath it seemed to freeze, a layer of frost creeping outward.
“This,” Price said, pointing to the screen, “is a Dementor. They’re creatures that feed on human happiness, leaving nothing but despair in their wake. Get too close, and they’ll suck the very soul out of you.”
The room fell silent. Ghost, usually unflappable, narrowed his eyes at the screen. “You’re telling us that’s real?” he asked, his voice low and skeptical.
Price didn’t flinch. “Real as it gets. And it’s not the only thing out there.” He motioned for Laswell to continue.
The screen shifted to another video, this one showing a massive figure—easily thirty feet tall—rampaging through a village, crushing houses underfoot. The camera zoomed in, capturing the creature’s grotesque features, its eyes glowing with a malevolent light.
“Giants,” Price said simply. “There are more of them out there. And they’re not just legends. They’re real, and they’re on the move.”
Farah leaned forward, her brow furrowed. “And these... things... are connected to this threat you mentioned?”
Laswell nodded. “Yes, and to understand that threat, you need to know about a man named Tom Riddle—better known as Lord Voldemort.”
The team exchanged glances, the name unfamiliar to them. Price took a deep breath and continued.
“Voldemort is the most dangerous dark wizard the world has ever known. Born Tom Riddle, he was a student at Hogwarts—yes, it’s a real place, a school for magic. Riddle was brilliant but twisted, obsessed with power and immortality. He dabbled in the darkest of magics, including something called Horcruxes, which allowed him to split his soul and hide parts of it in objects. As long as these Horcruxes exist, he can’t be truly killed.”
Gaz frowned. “You’re saying this guy’s immortal?”
“In a sense,” Price replied. “But he’s not invincible. He has weaknesses, and he can be defeated, but it’s not easy. His rise to power was swift and brutal. He gathered followers who shared his beliefs—pureblood supremacy, the idea that only those born into magical families should wield power. These followers became known as Death Eaters.”
“Death Eaters?” Soap echoed, his tone incredulous. “Who comes up with these names?”
Price didn’t break stride. “They’re fanatics. They wear masks, mark themselves with a dark symbol, and they kill without hesitation. Voldemort’s first reign of terror was over a decade ago. He and his Death Eaters spread fear across the magical and non-magical worlds. The Ministry of Magic—the wizarding government—was nearly toppled. But then something happened that no one expected.”
Laswell took over. “Voldemort went after a family—the Potters. He killed the parents, but when he tried to kill their son, Harry, the curse rebounded and destroyed his body. Everyone thought Voldemort was dead, but his Horcruxes kept him alive, just barely. For years, he was believed to be gone, but now he’s back, stronger than ever, and he’s picking up where he left off.”
Farah’s expression hardened as she absorbed this information. “So, this has been going on for a long time. And now it’s spilling over into our world.”
“Exactly,” Price said. “The Muggle world—our world—has always had a secret relationship with the wizarding world. For centuries, they’ve kept to themselves, and we’ve done the same. When someone from our side stumbled onto their secrets, the wizards erased their memories. But now, things are different. The situation has spiraled out of control, and Voldemort’s forces are spilling into our world. Giants have been spotted terrorizing villages, magical creatures are appearing in places they shouldn’t, and people are dying.”
Farah crossed her arms, her expression thoughtful. “And what about these Aurors? They’re supposed to be the wizard police, right? What are they doing about all this?”
“Fighting a losing battle,” Price admitted. “Voldemort has supporters within the Ministry of Magic itself. The Aurors are stretched thin, and they’re fighting on multiple fronts. That’s why we’re being brought in. To do what they can’t.”
Soap leaned back in his chair, shaking his head with a wry grin. “Muggles. Wizards. Death Eaters. This is bloody mental. Why do they call us Muggles, anyway?”
Farah gave a small smile. “Probably the same reason we come up with nicknames for our enemies. It sticks, and no one really knows why.”
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Price allowed himself a small smile at the exchange, but then his face grew serious again. “Look, I know this is a lot to take in. But the fact is, we’re in this now. We have to be. If we don’t stop Voldemort, the whole world—Muggle and wizard alike—could fall into chaos. We’ve faced impossible odds before, and we’ve come out on top. This time won’t be any different.”
The room fell silent as the team absorbed everything they had just heard. The reality of the situation was sinking in, and while there was still disbelief, there was also determination. They had faced nightmares before, but this... this was a new kind of war.
Price took a deep breath, his eyes hardening with resolve. “We start gathering intel immediately. Our first move will be to infiltrate key magical locations. We’ll need to do it quietly, and we’ll need to blend in. And I have someone who can help us with that.”
He gave Laswell a nod. Suddenly, with a loud crack, a man in wizard robes appeared in the room. He was tall, with sharp features and a calm demeanor, his eyes scanning the room with keen intelligence.
The team jumped to their feet, weapons drawn—Ghost even pulled out a hidden knife. But Price raised a hand, signaling them to stand down. “Easy, lads.”
“This,” Price said, gesturing to the man, “is Caldwell. He’s an Auror—wizarding law enforcement. He’s here to help us.”
Caldwell gave a slight nod. “Pleasure to meet you all. And I assure you, everything Captain Price has told you is true.”
Ghost slowly sheathed his knife, his eyes never leaving Caldwell. “Apparition,” Caldwell explained. “A form of magical teleportation. And that’s just one of the many abilities wizards have. The threats we’re facing are very real.”
Soap let out a low whistle, finally relaxing a bit. “So, magic’s real, and we’re supposed to take on a dark wizard who can do... all that?”
Price nodded. “That’s the long and short of it. But it’s not just Voldemort. His followers—Death Eaters—are skilled in dark magic, curses, and who knows what else. We’re up against an army that can kill with a word, vanish into thin air, and manipulate reality itself.”
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the room. The tension was palpable, doubt flickering in the eyes of even his most seasoned soldiers. They’d seen a lot, but this was a whole new battlefield.
But Price wasn’t about to let that doubt fester. He straightened, his voice steady, with a touch of the dry humor that had gotten them through so many close calls. “You know, lads, it’s funny. You ever wonder how you get shot, take a few breaths, and somehow you’re back in the fight? Ever think that’s a bit... unnatural?”
Soap frowned, glancing at Gaz, who raised an eyebrow. “What’re you getting at, Cap?”
“Magic, boys,” Price said, a wry grin spreading across his face. “You’ve been wearing magically enhanced armor for years, courtesy of a few friends in the Ministry who didn’t want us keeling over too soon. Ever notice how your gear tends to take the brunt of the damage? How a bullet that should’ve killed you just winds up leaving a nasty bruise?”
Farah’s eyes widened slightly. “You’re saying our armor...?”
“Not just your armor,” Price continued, warming to the topic. “Ever wonder how you manage to lug around two machine guns, multiple RPG rounds, 300 rounds of primary and secondary ammo, and enough grenades to blow up a small building—yet still run, slide, and climb like you’re out for a jog?”
Gaz’s mouth dropped open slightly as he processed this. “Now that you mention it, Cap... yeah, that’s a bit off.”
“More than a bit,” Price said, his tone serious but laced with dry amusement. “There’s been a bit of ‘assistance’ here and there. Not enough to notice if you weren’t looking for it, but enough to keep us in the fight. Muggles, they call us, because we’re supposed to be non-magical. But we’ve had a little help from the other side all along.”
Ghost, ever the skeptic, crossed his arms, his expression thoughtful. “So, you’re telling us we’ve been walking around in enchanted gear, carrying half an armory, and no one thought to mention it?”
Price shrugged, the grin still playing on his lips. “Would you have believed it if they had? We’re soldiers, not wizards. But in this war, it’s going to take every advantage we can get. The enemy’s got spells and curses, sure, but they’ve never faced blokes like us, carrying enough firepower to level a city block.”
Soap chuckled, shaking his head. “Bloody hell, and here I thought I was just too stubborn to die.”
Price grinned. “That too, MacTavish. That too. But the point is, we’ve already had a taste of what magic can do, and we’re still standing. These Death Eaters? They haven’t got a clue what they’re up against. They’ve never faced real soldiers, men like us. They’ve been fighting wizards, people who think like them, who play by their rules.”
He leaned forward, his eyes blazing with determination. “But we don’t play by their rules. We’ve fought in deserts, jungles, and cities torn apart by war. We’ve gone up against enemies who outnumbered us ten to one, who had the terrain, the firepower, and every advantage. And we’ve won. Every. Damn. Time.”
Price’s gaze swept across the room, meeting each of their eyes. “These Death Eaters? They’re about to learn what real warfare looks like. We’ve got tactics, technology, and the element of surprise. But more than that, we’ve got each other. We know how to adapt, how to improvise, how to turn the tide in our favor. And when we go after them, we won’t stop until Voldemort and every last one of his followers is buried.”
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the room. The tension was palpable, but then Soap let out a chuckle, shaking his head.
“What’s so funny, MacTavish?” Price asked, though he already had a hunch.
“Zombies,” Soap said, leaning back in his chair. “We’ve fought zombies in Urzikstan. Why is this surprising?”
Farah nodded, a slight smirk on her face. “He’s got a point. We’ve dealt with undead hordes, chemical weapons, and enemies who’d give their lives just to take us down. Magic? That’s just another day in the office, isn’t it?”
Price couldn’t help but smile at that. “True enough. We’ve seen our share of the impossible, haven’t we? But this… this is a different kind of fight. These wizards, they think they’re untouchable because of their magic. But they’ve never faced soldiers like us. We don’t follow their rules. We make our own.”
Price let his words hang in the air for a moment, then softened his tone just slightly. “I know this is new, and it’s not going to be easy. But we’ve faced impossible odds before, and we’ve always come out on top. This time won’t be any different. We’ve got the skills, we’ve got the guts, and we’ve got the determination to take these bastards down. And that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”
The room was silent, but the doubt had vanished, replaced by a steely resolve. The team might not fully understand the enemy they were about to face, but they trusted Price. They trusted each other. And that was enough.
“We’re Bravo Six,” Gaz started his voice firm. “We’ve got a job to do, Sir. And we’re going to finish it. Together.”
Soap grinned, the fire back in his eyes. “Bloody right we are. Let’s show these wizards what real soldiers can do.”
Ghost gave a rare nod of approval. “They won’t know what hit them.”
Farah, her expression resolute, added, “Whatever they throw at us, we’ll handle it. We always do.”
Price allowed himself a small smile. His team was ready. The enemy might have magic, but they had something stronger—a bond forged in battle, and a determination that nothing, not even dark magic, could break.
“Alright, then,” Price said, his voice a mixture of pride and resolve. “Let’s get to work.”