The air was thick with the scent of pine and earth as Ghost, Gaz, and Farah made their way through the dense forest. Their wizarding ally, Tom “Specter” Finch, led the way, his eyes scanning the underbrush for any signs of movement. After days of tracking and reconnaissance, they had finally found a secluded spot to set up their base camp—close enough to monitor Harry and Hermione, but far enough to avoid detection.

“Here,” Tom said quietly, stopping at a small clearing surrounded by thick trees. “This should do.”

The trio nodded, and without a word, they set to work. Gaz and Farah began securing the perimeter, laying down motion sensors and tripwires, while Ghost scouted the area for any hidden threats. Meanwhile, Tom stood in the center of the clearing, his wand held lightly in his hand.

With a flick of his wrist, Tom conjured a fire. Flames roared to life, crackling warmly and casting flickering shadows across the trees.

“Neat trick, Specter” Ghost muttered, stepping back into the clearing. Despite his skepticism, there was a note of appreciation in his voice.

Tom grinned. “Saves time. No need to worry about wet wood out here.”

Farah reached into her pack and pulled out a few MREs, tossing one to Tom. “Here, try this. It’s what we eat out here.”

Tom caught the packet, examining it curiously. He tore it open and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully before nodding in approval. “It’s no Hogwarts feast, but I’ve had worse. Not bad, actually.”

“High praise, coming from a wizard,” Gaz said with a chuckle as he sat down near the fire.

—

The fire crackled softly as the night deepened around the secluded camp. Ghost sat on a fallen log, methodically cleaning his rifle, while Gaz leaned back against a tree, his eyes half-closed but still alert. Farah stirred the embers with a stick, sending sparks into the cool night air. Tom Finch, their wizarding ally, sat cross-legged by the fire, his wand resting beside him. The flickering light cast long shadows across his face, giving him an almost otherworldly appearance.

For a while, they sat in comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. It was Tom who finally broke the quiet.

“You know,” he began, his voice thoughtful, “it’s funny how similar our worlds are, despite everything.”

Ghost looked up from his rifle, one eyebrow raised. “How do you figure that?”

Tom shrugged, leaning back on his hands. “We both fight wars, face down enemies who’d tear us apart if they could. And at the end of the day, we’re all just trying to protect what matters to us.”

Farah nodded, her gaze distant. “War is war, no matter the weapons used. Magic or not, it’s the same hell.”

Tom’s eyes flicked to Farah. “You’ve seen more than your share of it, haven’t you?”

Farah sighed, the memories clearly weighing heavy on her. “Urzikstan. My country was torn apart by a madman named Barkov. Chemical weapons, death squads, torture... you name it, he did it. My people suffered, but we fought back. With help from people like them,” she nodded toward Ghost and Gaz, “we finally took our country back.”

Tom listened intently, the weight of her words hanging in the air. “I’ve read about that. What you did... it’s the stuff of legends.”

Gaz chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it. “Yeah, legends. And then what? You take down one tyrant, and another pops up. It’s like cutting the head off a Hydra.”

Ghost, usually the quiet one, spoke up, his voice low and gravelly. “We’ve been through it all. Urzikstan, the cartel in Mexico... fighting enemies who don’t play by the rules. You think you’ve got them beat, and then they find another way to hit back.”

Tom nodded slowly. “Sounds like you’ve faced your share of dark wizards, even if they didn’t have wands. We’ve got people like that in our world too—Voldemort, the Death Eaters... they’re not so different from the Barkovs and Makarovs of your world. Power-hungry, cruel, and willing to destroy anything that stands in their way.”

“Exactly,” Ghost agreed, his tone grim. “Doesn’t matter if it’s a spell or a bullet, it’s the intent behind it that counts. And these bastards—whether they’re wizards or Muggles—they all want the same thing: control.”

Tom stared into the fire, his face thoughtful. “You know, we had our own Barkov in the wizarding world. A guy named Grindelwald. He preached wizard supremacy, thought we should rule over Muggles. Started a war that nearly tore our world apart. It took Dumbledore, one of the greatest wizards of all time, to stop him. But the scars... they’re still there.”

Farah nodded, her eyes reflecting the flames. “The scars never really go away. You just learn to live with them.”

A silence fell over the group, each person lost in their memories of battles fought and lives lost. But there was also a sense of understanding—of shared experience—that bound them together.

Tom, sensing the mood, decided to lighten things up. “You know, I’m still getting used to all this Muggle stuff. I mean, the things you lot can do without magic... it’s impressive.”

Gaz grinned. “And you, with that wand of yours. Still can’t believe you can just wave it and make stuff happen. Makes our tech look pretty basic.”

Tom chuckled, picking up his wand and twirling it between his fingers. “Yeah, but I’ve got to admit, there’s something satisfying about the way you guys handle your weapons. Direct, no nonsense. Reminds me of the way we used to duel—no fancy tricks, just skill and precision.”

Ghost looked over, a rare smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe you should give it a try sometime, Specter. We’ll trade—my rifle for your wand.”

Tom laughed, a sound that was both lighthearted and genuine. “Maybe I will. Though I’m not sure I’d be able to hit anything with that monster of yours.”

Farah leaned in, a playful glint in her eye. “Oh, we’ll teach you. By the time we’re done, you’ll be taking out targets at a thousand yards.”

“Deal,” Tom said, extending his hand. “And in return, I’ll show you a few tricks with this wand. Might come in handy one day.”

Ghost took Tom’s hand, shaking it firmly. “It’s a deal, mate. As long as you don’t turn me into a toad, we’re good.”

Tom grinned, mischief dancing in his eyes. “No promises, mate. No promises.”

As they settled back down, Tom’s eyes flicked to Ghost, the ever-present mask covering his face. Curiosity got the better of him, and he asked, “So, Ghost, do you ever take that mask off? I mean, what’s underneath?”

Gaz and Farah immediately snickered, exchanging amused looks.

Gaz leaned forward with a grin. “Oh, you’ve done it now, Tom.”

Farah shook her head, unable to hide her smile. “Everyone wonders, but no one ever asks”

Ghost simply stared back at them, his eyes unreadable behind the mask. “Let’s just say it’s better this way.”

Tom chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Just thought I’d ask.”

Gaz leaned back, still grinning. “You’ll get used to it. Just know that if you ever do see Ghost without his mask, you’re either very lucky or very unlucky.”

Farah added, “Or you’ve just had too many drinks.”

Ghost rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward ever so slightly. “Keep it up, and you’ll be finding out the hard way.”

The banter lightened the mood, and as the night wore on, the group continued to share stories—some harrowing, some humorous, all of them painting a picture of the lives they had led and the battles they had fought. As different as their worlds were, they found common ground in the struggle for survival, the fight against tyranny, and the bond forged in the heat of combat.

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By the time the fire had burned down to embers, the four of them had a deeper understanding of each other—and a respect that went beyond words.

—

The dense, ancient trees of the Forest of Dean stood tall and silent, their branches weaving a thick canopy that blocked out most of the moonlight. The air was cool and still, filled with the earthy scent of damp leaves and moss. It was here, among the shadows, that Harry Potter and Hermione Granger had taken refuge, unaware that they were not alone.

Farah and her team, clad in ghillie suits that blended seamlessly with the forest surroundings, moved like ghosts through the underbrush. Their thermal vision scopes scanned the area, picking up the faint heat signatures of Harry and Hermione by a small, dying campfire in the distance.

“We’ve got thermal on the targets,” Ghost’s voice crackled softly through the comms, his figure nearly invisible against the backdrop of the forest floor.

Farah adjusted her own thermal scope, her eyes narrowing as she confirmed the positions of Harry and Hermione. They were speaking in low tones, their body heat creating soft glows in the otherwise cold and dark surroundings.

“Do we engage?” Gaz asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Farah shook her head, even though the gesture was invisible in the darkness. “Negative. We’re not here to make contact. Our job is to keep them safe and out of sight. They don’t need to know we’re here.”

Finding Harry and Hermione had not been easy even for seasoned veterans such as Gaz, Farah and Ghost. The team had searched relentlessly and used a combination of advanced tracking techniques and Tom’s own magical intuition to locate Harry and Hermione over many days. The real breakthrough came when they triangulated the magical interference that had been disrupting their radio communications.

Gaz had been the first to notice. “We’ve been losing radio contact at certain points, but it’s not random. If we triangulate those locations, we might be able to pinpoint where the interference is strongest.”

Ghost had nodded, impressed by the insight. “Makes sense. They’d want to stay hidden, and the interference could be a byproduct of whatever magic they’re using to conceal themselves.”

Using this method, they had gradually narrowed down the search area, relying on their expert tracking skills and technology to find where Harry and Hermione were hiding. It was a reminder of just how capable they were—able to adapt even when magic was involved.

—

Over the course of the next few days, the team kept a close watch on Harry and Hermione while avoiding direct engagement with the Death Eaters patrolling the area. However, when a group of Death Eaters came too close to Harry’s camp, the trio knew they had to act.

“Three of them,” Gaz whispered, peering through his binoculars. “They’re getting too close.”

Ghost studied the terrain for a moment before formulating a plan. “We can’t just take them out—not unless we want the whole area crawling with more of them. Let’s draw them away.”

Farah nodded, already pulling out a small device. She planted it in the ground a few hundred yards from their position and activated it. The device emitted a low-frequency noise that mimicked the sound of movement—a decoy designed to mislead their enemies.

“Let’s see if they take the bait,” Ghost said, watching closely.

Sure enough, the Death Eaters paused, their wands raised in suspicion. One of them signaled to the others, and they began moving cautiously toward the noise.

“That’s it,” Farah whispered. “Keep going...”

When the Death Eaters were sufficiently far from Harry’s camp, the team quietly repositioned themselves, ensuring that the wizards wouldn’t find their actual location.

“They’ll be chasing ghosts for the next hour,” Ghost muttered, a rare smirk appearing on his face.

—

Later that night, Tom Apparated back to the camp after another check-in with Price. His expression was serious but laced with a hint of pride.

“Got news,” Tom announced as he sat down by the fire. “Price and his team just hit Azkaban.”

Gaz looked up from his gear, intrigued. “And?”

“They took it out,” Tom said, a note of awe in his voice. “Completely obliterated the place. Freed a few prisoners, too—people who’d been locked away for opposing Voldemort. He’s training them now.”

“Training them?” Farah asked.

Tom nodded. “Cooperative combat. Combining magic and Muggle tactics. Apparently, Price’s methods are rubbing off on them. They’re learning to fight like you lot—working in squads, covering each other, using magical shields and your weapons in tandem.”

Ghost let out a low chuckle. “Didn’t think wizards would be interested in learning our ways.”

“They’re impressed,” Tom admitted. “Especially after seeing what you did. Word’s spreading—Muggles aren’t as weak as they thought.”

Farah smirked. “Damn right.”

—

The next day, the team set up their surveillance equipment, carefully calibrating their thermal imaging cameras and other sensors to track Harry and Hermione’s movements. Ghost had positioned the cameras in strategic locations, ensuring they had full coverage of the area where the young wizards were camped.

“They’re making camp for the night,” Gaz observed, his eyes on the thermal feed. “Looks like they’re settling in.”

The heat signatures on the screen showed the distinct outlines of Harry and Hermione as they moved around their small campsite. The trio watched intently, knowing how crucial it was to stay one step ahead of any threats.

As the night wore on, the team monitored the feed in shifts. During Ghost’s watch, something on the screen caught his eye—Harry and Hermione were standing close together, talking quietly. Then, to his surprise, Harry extended a hand, and Hermione took it. The two began to dance, swaying gently in the moonlight.

Ghost’s expression softened as he watched the tender moment unfold. “You seeing this?” he asked quietly, nodding to the screen.

Gaz, who had just returned from a quick patrol, looked over Ghost’s shoulder. “Yeah... they’re just kids. Trying to hold onto whatever normalcy they can.”

Farah joined them, and the three watched in silence as Harry and Hermione danced, their worries and fears momentarily forgotten.

“They’re carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders,” Farah murmured. “And still, they find a moment like this.”

Ghost, typically stoic, was uncharacteristically contemplative. “We’ve seen a lot of things out here. But this... this is different. It’s not just another mission. We’re protecting something more than just a target.”

Tom, who had returned from his brief check-in with Price, nodded in agreement. “They’re fighting for their future, and in a way, so are we.”

—

The next morning, the team continued their surveillance as Harry and Hermione prepared to retrieve the Sword of Gryffindor. Ghost kept a close eye on the thermal feed, watching for any signs of trouble as Harry approached the frozen pond.

“Looks like he’s going for it,” Gaz said, adjusting his scope. “We’ve got to make sure nothing interrupts them.”

As Harry dove into the icy water, the team tensed, ready to spring into action if necessary. When Ron Weasley appeared, Ghost shifted his aim slightly, ensuring he had a clear line of sight on the area.

“They’re not alone,” Farah observed. “Good. They’ll need all the help they can get.”

When the Horcrux began to attack, the team was ready to intervene. Ghost instinctively aimed at the locket, but Tom quickly placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t,” Tom warned. “Your weapons won’t work on that. It takes more than brute force to destroy something like that. It’s dark magic—deep, ancient.”

Reluctantly, Ghost lowered his rifle, and they watched as Harry and Ron successfully destroyed the Horcrux with the Sword of Gryffindor.

—

As Harry, Ron, and Hermione prepared to move on, the team knew their job wasn’t done. Gaz pulled out a small, magically enhanced bug—something Tom had helped them create—and carefully attached it to Hermione’s bag as she passed by their hidden position.

“This will help us keep track of them,” Gaz whispered. “We’ll know where they’re headed next.”

Tom nodded in approval. “Good thinking. It’s undetectable, even by magical means. We’ll be able to stay close without them knowing.”

As the trio watched Harry and his friends disappear into the forest, they began packing up their camp, ready to relocate and continue their mission.

Before they moved out, Gaz, Ghost, and Farah took a moment to reflect on what they had just witnessed. Watching Harry and his friends struggle, they couldn’t help but think about the weight these young people were carrying.

“They’re just kids,” Gaz said quietly, his voice tinged with a mix of admiration and sorrow. “Fighting a war they never asked for.”

Farah nodded, her expression thoughtful. “They remind me of the young ones back home. Forced to grow up too fast, carrying burdens no one should have to bear.”

Ghost, usually the stoic one, spoke up, his tone uncharacteristically soft. “We’re used to protecting our own. Soldiers who know what they signed up for. But these kids... they’re carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders, and they don’t even realize it.”

Tom, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke. “They may be young, but they’re stronger than they look. They’ll need that strength for what’s coming.”

Just as they finished packing up, the magic field surrounding the area began to dissipate. Gaz noticed it first, the static in his comms clearing up. He quickly checked his equipment and looked up at Ghost.

“Cap, comms are back online.”

Ghost nodded, pulling out his own device. “Price, this is Ghost. Do you copy?”

There was a brief pause, then Price’s voice crackled through the earpiece, laced with urgency. “Ghost, good to hear from you. We’ve got a situation—a big one. Voldemort’s forces are on the move, and we’ve identified key targets that need to be neutralized immediately. I need you and the team back here, now.”

Ghost exchanged a glance with the others. “Understood. We’re on our way. What’s the situation?”

“We’re looking at giant encampments, dark creature convoys, and a Death Eater command post,” Price explained. “These are crucial to Voldemort’s plans. If we hit them now, we can cripple his ability to launch a full-scale assault.”

Farah frowned. “What about Harry and his friends?”

Price’s voice was resolute. “They’re on their own for now, but we’ve done what we can. The best way to help them is to make sure they’re not overwhelmed by Voldemort’s forces. You’ve got the coordinates. Move out.”

Tom nodded in agreement. “We’ll take care of it.”

With that, the team finished their preparations and began their extraction. As they moved through the forest, they knew they were leaving one battle behind, only to face another. The war wasn’t over, and the stakes had just been raised.

The final glance back toward the forest where Harry, Ron, and Hermione had vanished was brief. They had their mission, and it was time to act.