A 'milk run' was the daily scheduled flights by C130s around the country and overseas of military mail and supplies. It had room for passengers, as necessary, but the facilities were quite basic.
"Contact on the ground?" asked Jack.
"You'll be notified once you reach Edinburgh, Scotland," replied the general.
For Harry, the trip across the North Atlantic from New York to Portland, England - the first stop after a 'day stop' the day before in Cork, Ireland - was quite pleasant and relaxing. Other than 'passenger watching' and wandering about, Harry spent time in his wizard-spaced and transfigured room writing out a list of what he needed to accomplish once he was back in wizarding Britain. Knowing not to do otherwise, he only ever ate in the 'free' cafeteria and never drank alcohol.
His only surprise was when a couple of 'hotties' approached him and asked if he wanted to join them for a drink. He politely declined, telling them he was a 'tea-totaller'. The more forward of them then said, "That doesn't mean you can't buy me a drink, does it?"
He politely turned them away.
At first he thought his first stop, on arriving back in Britain, would be Gringotts. He needed money. Then he realised the first thing he actually needed was information. He needed to know what was going on before he risked being out in the open in somewhere like Diagon Alley. Besides, he didn't trust the goblins not to have Dumbledore spies that would immediately report to the old man if he turned up; even worse, Voldemort spies. Harry could use a glamour in the Alley, but he couldn't use one in the bank. Working on that problem he knew, even then, he still needed to take a risk. He needed back issues of the Daily Prophet and to look in Flourish and Blotts for any new books that might help bring him up-to-date with how things currently stood.
He also wanted to find out what had happened to Hermione and the others. He knew she had been hurt and expected her to be dead. However, he was not going to assume, though; he was going to find out, for sure. If she was dead, then he was going to leave the country again. As far as he was concerned other than Sirius, Neville and Luna... he'd already decided to wash his hands of even Ron and Ginny, once his Occlumency had properly kicked in... they had made their bed and could liein it.
He suspected they all believed him dead, too. So he could walk away without anyone chasing after him. He'd wash his hands of the whole thing. When SG-1 alighted from their military transport at RAF Brize Norton in Oxfordshire, England, with the exception of Teal'c they were tired and a bit grouchy. To get there, they'd been 'bounced' through Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland before the big 'hop over the pond' to England. It was still a long flight.
As soon as they alighted the aircraft, out of sight of the main base's buildings and very close to a modern hanger, they were greeted by a man wearing a bespoke three-piece suit. A woman stood at his side, a little apart and half a pace back.
As well as the suit he wore a derby-style matching hat, had both hands folded on the wooden curled handle of a closed and inverted 'matching' dark grey umbrella that rested on its silver tip on the ground between his slightly spread apart feet and Oxford lace up polished shoes. The small white carnation in his lapel and tie-matching pocket-kerchief looked a bit much though. The woman who wore a woman's suit with pants. She, too, was impeccably dressed and had a small purse in her off-hand.
The man gave every appearance of looking like a senior executive in a London bank. And the woman looked like she could have been his personal secretary. The only oddity was the suit pants instead of a knee length skirt.
As soon as he saw him, Jack sighed and walked closer. The other three, curious, followed.
The man was smirking back at him. "Good afternoon, Colonel," he politely said.
"Mister Steed," sighed Jack. "I should have known..."
"Yes, you should," Steed pleasantly agreed. Then he indicated the woman and said, "This is Miss Hoffstead." As Daniel shook hands with Steed, he asked, "Have a first name?"
"It's 'Mister'," snarked Jack.
There was obviously a bit of bad blood between Jack and the Brit.
Steed ignored him and replied to Daniel, "It's John, actually. Not shortened. In full, I am Brigadier The Honourable Sir John Wickham Gascoyne Beresford Steed, KGC, MC, OM, retired.
"However, while on duty for Her Majesty's loyal government, I prefer the simple and expedient 'Mister Steed'."
After the four barely greeted Hoffstead, thinking her an aide, Steed then indicated the door of the hanger and said, "Shall we?"
Jack rolled his eyes and nodded.
Steed then led the way and Hoffstead followed at the back of the group. As they walked along, Daniel asked Jack, "What's with the Derby?"
"This is not a Derby, Doctor Jackson," sniffed Steed. "It is a Bowler... Please."
Jack just gave a snort of amusement.
At Grimmauld Place, where on no less than on a half dozen occasions Death Eaters had tried to break in over the past three years, Sirius was alerted to the floo-call chime going off.
Careful to enter the room, he had his wand drawn when he was about to peek within. "It's me, Lord Black." he heard Luna lightly call.
"Password!" he barked.
"Sirius knows Harry lives!" she immediately returned.
As he stepped into the room, Sirius said, "Luna knows Longbottom is not the Chosen One." She smiled and immediately said, "I need five hundred pounds of muggle British currency."
Frowning in confusion slightly, Sirius said, "May I ask... why?"
"Of course you may!" she brightly returned. "However, I'll save you effort and tell you I need to travel by muggle means down to Portland and back. I need to pick something up."
"Why not apparate?" he asked.
"I don't want the apparation signature, or a portkey signature, recorded by the Ministry," she replied. "It's important, Sirius."
He frowned back for a moment before he gave a sigh and said, "Give me a minute." Then walked back out of the room.
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