AN: I was actually thinking of waiting one more day before I posted this, but it's my birthday today, and I'm in a good mood thanks to my friends. So, enjoy!

(For those of you wondering, I've just turned 21)

In his years in the Imperial Army, Douglas McIntyre never imagined ever rising above the rank of private, but fate had proved him wrong on many occasions.

The first such occasion came when he was part of the 79th Imperial Highlander Regiment in the Royal Northern Army (RNA), under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel Harry James Potter. He'd arrived at Hogwarts a private, then.

However, he was soon dispatched, alongside the rest of the army, to the north, where Colonel Potter led them against the Death Eater bastion popularly called Serpent Fortress. There, his own platoon sergeant had been killed in the final part of the engagement (a damn shame, in his opinion), and he'd been promoted to sergeant when it was found out that he'd led a flanking action that had deviated much of the Death Eaters' resistance from the front gates.

That had just been the beginning.

The second such occasion came when he was assigned to the newly formed Airfleet Corps, again under the command of Harry Potter, now a Major-General. He'd been assigned as the platoon sergeant for the 1st Platoon in the 96th Rifles, Harry Potter's previous command. While somewhat unhappy at the transfer, he soon managed to integrate himself in the rough-and-tough regiment.

However, much to his dismay, he soon found out that the 1st Platoon was also full of rookies, and so was tasked with teaching them the ropes, so to speak, of the business. By the time the Retaliation had begun its fight in the skies near Canada, he'd assumed he'd done a good enough job.

And he did, as the assault on the Purity soon told him.

Despite the horrible casualty rate, his men had proved themselves well, shooting and hacking and slashing their way up to the heavily defended bridge. That's where he also met his current wife, Allison. That was also the battle where he'd been promoted to Ensign, for "outstanding, suicidal courage, and honourable distinction in the midst of enemy fire," as the Major General had said it, causing much laughter in the audience and making Douglas himself chuckle. Another interpretation, as Allison had put it, was "for sheer dumb luck."

Nevertheless, Douglas had made it into the Commissioned Officer ranks, which meant a huge pay raise, and a lot more responsibility.

However, five battles later, during which he served as a subordinate to Lieutenant Macmillan, he was promoted to Lieutenant when his superior was promoted to Captain. Douglas was comfortable with his current rank, however, and truly desired no additional promotion for the time being.

Allison had, of course, been exasperated with his lack of ambition, but supported him nonetheless. Fortunately for his peace of mind, she'd transferred out of the Army and into the crew of the Retaliation around the same time as he got promoted to Lieutenant, keeping her out of any immediate danger.

That, however, did not apply to him.

'Unfortunately,' he thought as he looked at his troops, who were sitting along the sides of the transport's troop hold. He personally opted to stand upright near the entrance to the cockpit, keeping himself balanced by grabbing one of the triangular leather holders that hung from the ceiling. He'd done the same in every engagement that required troop mobility.

Soon enough, the green light that indicated they would be reaching their target within ten minutes came on. Douglas nodded to himself and fastened the new copper-coloured helmets that the scientists at New Britannia had fashioned for them. He watched as his men did the same and felt proud that he no longer even had to tell them what to do. They all knew their job well.

After the men sounded off in readiness, Douglas nodded firmly and brought up his new Griffin Mk 3 Rifle, patterned after the Short Magazine Lee-Enfield Mk III.

"Alright, Gents!" he started, only to be interrupted by an outraged cry from the ten females in the company. He grinned unapologetically at them, having said it on purpose for that same reason. "And ladies, of course," he added soon after, causing the company to snicker. "You know your mission, so I hope I don't need to tell you again. Now then, remember your training. What do you do when we hit the beachhead?" he asked.

"Duck, Run, and Cover!" the company yelled back.

Douglas nodded with a satisfied grin. "Right! And none of you try to pull of any heroics! We don't need you in a body bag!" he ordered them.

"Like you, sir?" called out one of his men in, causing the men to laugh. Douglas was well known among the regiment for pulling off suicidal stunts.

"Aye, like me, Evans!" answered Douglas with an easy grin. "Just get the job done, guys. No stunts, no heroics. In and out. Quick and clean."

"Sir, yes, sir!" the company called back at him.

Douglas nodded and finally, the red light that announced their arrival blared to life.

"Alright, men! Showtime! Imperium Aevitas!" he roared.

"Imperium Aevitas!" chanted the company as the back of the transport opened up, revealing the beach.

Douglas was the first man out as he charged onto the beach, his boots struggling with the sand beneath him. He immediately brought up his rifle as he saw a Death Eater finally realize that they were under attack and shot the Dark wizard in the chest before he'd been able to sound the alarm.

The charge was hard and slow as the company made its way up the beach and onto solid ground, thankful that the Death Eaters had not realized they were under attack yet. It'd been fortunate that a sea landing had been undertaken instead of an aerial one, as the water transports had been designed to be silent, and the Death Eaters were only on constant lookout for aerial attacks, due to the Assault Ships' aerial capacity.

Douglas raised a fist and the entire company stopped as they reached hard ground. Douglas looked around and noticed the entrance to the observation post where he'd shot the Death Eater. He turned and pointed to one of his platoon sergeants and made a motion for him to take the observation post. He then turned to the three other sergeants and motioned for them to follow him.

With that, Douglas moved forward, the three remaining platoons close behind, as the fourth platoon made its way into the observation post. Only when twenty loud bangs were heard did Douglas know that the observation post had been taken.

Douglas, for his part, led his group further inland, taking care to take out any passing Death Eaters and sentries. Soon enough, they reached the village they were looking for. Still, Douglas didn't order his men right into it, but rather had them hold at the outskirts, taking covering positions behind several houses' fences.

Douglas quickly took out his binoculars and scanned the surrounding area. Finding nothing, he pointed at his second Platoon sergeant and motioned for him to move forward.

The man gave a single nod and hissed the command to his men, making the 50-man platoon spring to life as they quickly went over the fences and moved towards the house. Douglas watched one of them knock on the wooden door while the others got out of view and had their rifles pointed in the door's general direction.

Soon enough, someone opened the door and, to Douglas' relief, it was one of the townswomen. She looked surprised, then relieved, and finally exhilarated as she realized that Douglas' men were Imperial soldiers.

'What a stroke of luck,' thought Douglas. 'She must be the Duke's informant."

Douglas turned and nodded to the other two sergeants who promptly had their own men go over the wooden picket fences and were soon entering their respective houses. Douglas himself went for the first house, where the woman, a relatively old lady with grey hair, looked enthused at their presence.

"Oh thank the Queen you've arrived!" she exclaimed. Douglas seemed amused at the exclamation but nodded in greetings.

"I'm Douglas McIntyre, Lieutenant in the Northern Loyalist Britannic Forces," he told her. "Are you Madame Fairbanks?"

The old lady nodded vigorously. "I've been waiting five years for this, Lieutenant," she confided in him. "Those filthy thugs have made my home practically a slave camp!" she wailed.

Douglas nodded consolingly. "We understand, ma'am. That's why we're here," he told her. He then nodded to the 1st Platoon sergeant. "Get the First moving. Hook up with Johnson and Lee. I want this town secured and ready to evacuate in thirty minutes," he ordered, taking a brief look at his watch. The prisoner rescue should be underway by now.

Still, they only had an hour and a half-long window to get everyone on the transports, which meant he needed to get these people moving, and quickly, since they had about a mile to walk to reach the transports, and with over 50 untrained civilians of every age coming with them, along with any valuables and necessary materials, they needed all the time they could get.

Douglas turned to the old lady and nodded to two of his own men. "You two, stay with Mrs. Fairbanks," he ordered, turning to another, "You, go outside and tell the First, Second, and Third to get these people moving. We're short on time and the Death Eaters won't be blind to our little escapade forever."

As the man nodded and ran off, he called out one last time, "We better move it, people! We have an appointment to meet, and I'd hate for us to be late to it!"

"Lion Squadron, this is Lion One. Sound off green light," came the crackling voice over the comm. radio.

Jack Fanning, the second-in-command in Lion squadron, gave a slightly enthusiastic smile before calling, "Lion Two, green light."

He soon heard the others sounding off as the squadron flew in formation over the waters separating them from the enemy base.

"Lion Three, good to go!"

"Lion Four, ready!"

"Lion Five, all green and ready to kick some arse!"

"Lion Six, all instruments green!"

"Lion Seven, ready and awaiting orders."

"Lion Eight, awaiting instructions."

"Lion Nine, ready as I'll ever be!"

"Lion Ten, let me at 'em!"

"Lion Eleven, ready!"

"Lion Twelve, green light!"

"Lion One, green light. Disengage weapon safety," came the squadron leader's orders. Jack nodded to himself as he flipped the appropriate switch in his fighter. He soon heard the whirr of the bolts clogging his guns and securing his missiles disengage.

What had his attention, however, were the numerous dots that were flashing on his radar, steadily coming closer towards them.

"Lion Two. Heads up, gents! Six Drags at twelve o'clock!" he warned the squadron through his comm.

"Roger, Lion Two. Break into combat wings. Let them pass between us," ordered Lion One.

Jack nodded to himself once more and jerked his stick to the left, breaking from squadron formation as Lions Seven through Twelve followed him, while One through six broke to the right.

Lion One's call ended up being wise as the dragons (nicknamed Drags by the Air Force pilots) ploughed right through the middle, spouting fire in their path while their handlers shot spells at the dodging fighters.

"Lion Two to Two Flight, engage at will!" ordered Jack as he jerked his stick to the right in an attempt to get behind the more agile and sentient dragons.

He found himself lucky as he watched one of the dragons dally and not break in any direction, like his companions were doing. Jack quickly pulled the trigger and watched with glee as the normal, Muggle-made bullets (which were held in so much contempt by the Death Eaters) shredded away at the Dragon and his handler.

"One Drag down!" he called as the dragon fell limply from the sky and into the water below.

"…and thirteen to go," answered Lion Eight, ever the literal cynic, as more blips showed up on the radar.

"Lion Ten begs Lion Eight to shut it and shoot something down!" quickly answered a female voice. Jack grinned. It was the squadron's personal hothead, one Rose Hawking.

"Lion Two to Two Flight, cut the chatter and shoot something!" he ordered, though everyone could hear the smile in his voice.

Jack soon managed to down another dragon as Lions Ten and Twelve also brought one down each. They had a close call, though, when Lion Seven was forced to break off from the engagement when his wing was partially melted by dragon fire. It had been a lucky hit, though.

Nearly half an hour later, though, they were still going at it with the dragons, and Jack was getting somewhat impatient. There were five left going against his flight, and about six more going after One Flight. He knew that they would be in huge trouble soon if the signal to break off wasn't quickly given.

"Ten; where the hell are those transports?" demanded Rose through the comm.

"Six; I agree with Ten, boss. We can't hold out much longer," came the concerned voice of Lion Six.

"Lion Two to Two Flight, the transports will be there soon enough. We've got to give them more time!" urged Jack as he dodged a spell that would have blasted away his cockpit window.

"Nine here. Sir, with all due respect, any more time and we'll be the ones needing protection!"

Though Jack personally agreed with that statement as he dodged some dragon fire, he still had a mission to accomplish. "Nine, we've got a mission to fulfill! Without us, those transports are sitting ducks!" he replied.

"If they don't move it, we'll be sitting ducks too," muttered Eight through the comm.

Jack ignored Eight's mutterings and kept his eyes on the radar and his glass window, simply trying to stay alive at this point.

He was just dodging yet another flurry of spells when the radio crackled with an unfamiliar voice.

"This is Rescue Team One to Lion Squadron! Transports are secure!"

'Finally!' thought Jack before turning on his comm. "Two to Two Flight, break from engagement! All fighters back to the Retaliation!"

A flurry of acknowledgements came through the radio as he pulled his fighter into a sharp U-Turn, avoiding more dragon fire in the process.

As he raced his fighter towards the awaiting ships, he allowed a smile to creep up his face.

They'd done it.

Mission Accomplished.