Disclaimer: I don't own HP

Chapter 27: Mobilization

Ireland, Graham...

Graham surveyed the land which would soon become a battlefield for his men. He noted every bend in the trail, every rock and tree in his path. He checked the visibility from within the forest to the outside, and likewise with the other side. He would be sending a force through here probably to attack the Death Eater flank while they were busy fighting his main force. He could use this place as a second front or the pathway to their base to stop their escape to the sea. This terrain offered him an unlimited amount of tactical strategies employable, each one with its strength and weaknesses. He had a numerical superiority now, however slight it was. He could afford to take risks that no normal strategists would dream of doing. But Rookwood was no normal Strategists. He would be able to counter his attempts well enough. So in the end, it would all boil down to who had the guts to do what was needed and how quickly could they decide what they needed to do. It would be a game between the two of them, a battle of the wits.

He still remembered his teachers old motto. No plan survives contact with the enemy.

Fear not my fallen comrades, your deaths shall not be in vain. I will bring an end to the tyrannical ruleof the Death Eaters one way or another! I shall fall before I consider letting Ireland fall to their hands. I will not abandon my people to their mercy and cruelty. This I swear. I will not stop fighting them until the last Death Eater is dead before me or I have fallen before them. To my last breathe, I pledge to fight for the innocent and the oppressed, I will not let their sacrifice be wasted.

I will prevail in the end. I will not rest, I will not stop, I will not surrender, I will not retreat until I have won this war.

Victory at all costs.

Rookwood...

The Death Eater Commander was looked down upon the his men's camp. Most of them would die in the upcoming conflict and he felt a sense of regret. Despite what most people thought, he was not a heartless creature that had no emotions. He felt compassion for his comrades, sympathy to those who were suffering, and regret for those who had died. They had died for ideals of a noble cause, the cause of social reorganization and reformation of a corrupt government, so inefficient they turned on themselves.

He felt regret mainly because he felt that the youths who had been swayed to their side and died for his cause, their cause, could have led better lives. They could have had a family, job, maybe even attained greatness in the world. And yet, they threw it all away for the sake of one thing.

The cause.

They bled and died for something they could not see or touch. But they died all the same, willing and loyal. It was for this reason Rookwood refused to surrender, even against all odds. even if the world turned on him, as long as a single man, woman, or child still believed in him, trusted him to do his duty, and put their lives in his hands, he would continue fighting. Not for his sake or some damn ideals of a lunatic long dead, but for the people who had sacrificed themselves. He would continue fighting for them and not for anything else. He was a leader and a shepherd, and his people were his flock.

As long as a single man trusts in me, I will not give in, even if the world is against me, I will find a way to prevail. For there is nothing more important than the loyalty of your people and the determination of their leader.

No retreat, no surrender. Victory at all costs.

Hogwarts, Great Hall...

Jonathan Morris gazed upon the men of Christopher with a critical eye. There were even fewer than the last time he had seen them. That was a good sign. Soon, very soon, my time to strike will come.He turned his gaze away from them. They will pay dearly for what they have done. And that Potter brat will too. As soon as my men return, I can strike again. But perhaps I should consider an alliance with another group, an outside factor to give me an edge. No matter, in the end, I will win. I have always won. I don't plan on changing that.He thought.

He left from the hall with his men, avoiding an open confrontation. All my enemies shall fall before me. They do not have a choice. It is my fate to be triumphant over all who oppose me. It is my destiny. I never wanted this conflict, I was forced onto it. Mitch refused to surrender, he had to be replaced. He had grown stagnant and dictatorial, the very thing we had strived to be against. If there is anything I hate in the world, it is a hypocrite and a traitor. More so then the incompetent for at least they would remain loyal. Mitch shall fall and his followers shall scatter before me.

No retreat, no surrender. Victory at all costs.

Robert Slivenson...

Slivenson glared disdainfully at the laughing figure of one Harry James Potter. He will pay for humiliating me. For too long I've tolerated his utter lack of respect for my family and my name. It ends this year. He will suffer the unimaginable and bear the unbearable. Only then will I be satisfied with victory. I will prevail because I am the Chosen One. I am the boy-who-lived. I am my own and no one can tell me otherwise. I will not let some upstart get the better of me.Slivenson clenched his fist in anger. He will crash and burn against me.

No retreat, no surrender. Victory at all costs.

Artrom Gaithe...

Artrom Gaithe was a newly appointed Guardian, transferred from the Elites. He had been given the task, no, honor,of keeping watch over the Heir. He would be the only one standing in the way between harm and the heir. He would not fail. He could not fail. The future of his country demanded his success. He was loyal to the Heir and he would not be bribed like politicians. He was trained to survive the harshest of conditions, he could continue keeping watch for three days and three nights if need be. Through rain, fog, hail, and sleet he would prevail.

He would not compromise for anything. His Lord would not fall, not today, not while he still had breathe in him. Finally after years, there was hope in him. He would not let that feeling go without a fight. He knew that if he fell in battle, he would be honored and dozens more would come to take his place. But not yet. He had not fallen to the enemy. It was not time to pass the torch. He was still the guard.

No compromise. No surrender, no retreat. Victory at all cost.

Azkaban...

The freezing wind swept through the walls, passing by the lightly clad figure standing guard over the walls. He felt an involuntary shiver down his spine. No matter how many years you lived in these conditions, you would never get used to it. The man's name was William Crade. He had been a guard in Azkaban for years now. Suddenly, unearthly screams were heard, breaking the gloomy silence that normally dominated the atmosphere. The screams continued on for some time.

The dementors are feeding again.William thought sadly. No matter what any politician said or how they said it, feeding would always be inhumane in his eyes. No one, not even criminals deserved that. It was a fate worse than death. Those creatures, quite literally, destroyed your soul, incinerating it to serve as energy for them. They tore apart your very sanity and destroyed whatever innocence you might have. They were foul creatures, said to have escaped form Hell itself. Terrifying demons cloaked in black robes, the Soul Stealers they were called. And rightly so.

"Sir?" A young voice behind him asked. William smiled at the title. He was barely thirty years old and yet he was already considered a veteran.

"You were sent there by command to relieve me I presume?" William asked.

"Yes sir." The young man said nervously.

"What's your name lad?"

"James Yive sir."

"Keep your wand about you James. And steer clear of any dementors you see. Those fiends will suck your soul for any excuses and at any chance. Just because they're supposedly our 'allies' doesn't mean they aren't back stabbing demons. Those things have 'accidentally' killed of more men than prisoners, disease, cold, old age, ad any other reason you can think of put together. They're dangerous they are. Don't turn your back on them for a moment." William left the boy and took a few steps forward until he heard a thud behind him.

He turned around to see James dead on the floor, blood pooling around where he had fallen. A knife was stuck in his throat. He looked up and saw two men robed in black, most likely for camouflage purposes, armed with daggers and short knives.

"Don't move. You are trespassing Ministry Territory." William said, growling dangerously as he pulled out his wand, a spell at the tip of his tongue. The two intruders seemed amused by his gesture.

One of them suddenly charged at him with speeds incredible for a wizard. "STUPEFY!" The red stream of light streaked into the air between them. The assassin brought up both of his blades to block the spell, deflecting it back uselessly towards a wall. The intruder continued his charge, not stopping for anything, and in a moment, he had reached William's position.

Before William could speak, so startled as he was, a knife found itself in his throat and a second one in his stomach, effectively killing him and stopping him from making a sound or raising an alarm. The two intruders sent down ropes down the walls, giving twenty Infiltrators access to Azkaban. They were a group specially trained for breaking in and escaping. Whether to kill, rescue, or retrieve, they were the best among the Death Eaters.

The storming would commence. The mission to rescue some of the Dark Lord's most prized warriors.

No compromise, Victory at all costs.