A/N: This is to simply respond to several valid comments (and one not-so-valid) that were made in past reviews.
On the issue of muskets, the reason for their use is dictated within the Technomancy "laws" I designed for this AU. These laws are -not- meant to be universal (applicable to -all- Technomancy fics). However, they -do- explain, to -my- satisfaction, why muskets must be used as opposed to a bit more modern weaponry. Whether or not these "laws" will be posted up in the future for individual reference (and inspiration) is still subject to debate.
On the issue of Dumbledore's manipulations, suffice to say that this is merely the first of five stories dealing with this Story Arc, "Officer of the Empire". For those concerned readers who deem him too inept as it is, keep reading. He hasn't even started.
Lastly, on a point I deem less important as far as story quality is concerned; Yes. This is an H/G fic. However, I will not excuse myself for writing that pairing, just as I expect all future reviews (not that any have been made in this regard yet) to be devoid of any scathing remarks on my person for writing this pairing. As I've warned in my profile, I will not tolerate any unsubstantiated reviews devoid of -constructive- criticisms that are made instead on the basis of pairing. However, if you have a problem with a character as he/she is portrayed in this fic, bearing in mind its AU nature, then feel free to comment on that character.
The Morning After…(Day 6)
The day had dawned dry and without wind. Indeed, there seemed to be an eerie stillness about as Harry oversaw his troops from atop his horse, in front of the troops. He gazed at his steel-eyed men once more, as if committing them all to memory, before beginning his speech.
"Men" he began, keeping his voice only loud enough so that all could hear, "You stand now here, before the very walls of yet another hell to fulfill your oath to duty to the Crown!"
"But do not see this as yet another miserable task in a miserable life!" he continued, "For every battle is an opportunity in itself! A chance to rise beyond the mere concepts of normality! An opportunity to attain glory!"
"Whatever the books say, history remembers courage! History remembers valor! History remembers the brave!" he called out, "And if you are not brave men, then I do hereby state that I've only met cowards! For you, you men, you are Her Majesty, the Queen of the British Empire's, instrument of justice! Her voice of order in times of chaos! Her chiding hand towards the ungrateful children that dare to rise against her!"
"I could say that you are not the best," he stated, "But that would be a lie! For you are the best! You have trained to be the best! You have fought the enemy's elite, and triumphed! Men will tell me that they know of better men!" he continued, "But let that man show me a better man, and I will show him a liar!" he exclaimed, to the increasing cheers of the men.
"Remember for whom you fight! Remember that the British Empire looks today upon you as her brave sons!" he yelled, to the near deafening cheers, "Show Her Majesty that we are the rightful claimants of the title of the Wolves of the Empire! But remember above all…" he took a deep breath, before screaming, "RULE BRITANNIA!"
The answering cheers were feral, loud, and full of promise of death for their enemies. Cries of "Rule Britannia!" and "Long live the Empire!"
Harry then drew his sword and pointing it at the fortress, cried out, "BRITANNIA VICTOR! FORWARD!"
As one, the mass of soldiers began marching in near-perfect lines across the frozen river, the shielders ahead of the lines, ready to set up defensive spells at a moment's notice.
Nodding in approval at the march, Harry then turned to the drums and fifes. "British Grenadiers if you will, Mr. Jenkins" he requested. The leader of the musical party nodded as he gave a similar order for marching, the drums and fifes, led by the flag bearers (who held the Queen's Colours and the Regimental standards), began playing The British Grenadiers, to the cheers of the marching soldiers.
Harry gave a sad, almost longing look at the backs of his men. He wished he was amongst them, sharing in their burden. Unfortunately, military law forbade him from taking part.
"Good luck, men" he spoke calmly as he lifted his saber in salute, "May the gods be with you."
Death Eater Fortress Outer Walls; That same day…
James Michaels was a relatively new recruit to the Death Eaters. He had taken part in his initiation ceremony merely a few weeks ago. His first assignment had been to stand garrison in what was supposed to be a quiet fortress whom no one in the Light knew about.
Obviously, that had gone horribly wrong for the last few days.
First, there was news that an army was approaching the fortress. That had prompted Death Eater Command to send in over 800 men in reinforcements. A few days later, the army had indeed appeared on the horizon, but either someone had misread the intelligence, or the one who gave it was a blind moron. The size of the army he was seeing was at least seven times greater than the reinforcements.
And then it got worse.
The army started bombarding the fortress.
James had never experienced a more horrifying day in his life as when the shells began hitting the walls and towers. It wasn't enough that the normal shells were severely damaging the outer wall, but the two massive cannons behind them were tearing apart the defensive towers, where the Death Eaters had massed several anti-personnel artifacts. Then, when several of his comrades tried to repair the walls, the cannon aim was redirected directly at them and they were soon blasted away.
Unfortunately, the bombing had not ended with nightfall. In addition to the cannons across the river blasting away, reports came in of ships at the rear of the fortress blasting indiscriminately away at the walls, internal structures, and anything else they could hit. Combined with the riverbank cannons, the resulting cacophony had kept James up the entire night in terror, along with most of the garrison. James had sworn then that nothing could be worse than the bombardment.
Now, half an hour after the break of dawn, he was wishing he'd kept his mouth and thoughts shut.
Unknown to the enemy army, the commanding officer's, Harry Potter, if the intelligence was correct, speech was heard in its entirety to the Death Eaters, whose own valor began to crumble as the resulting cheers chilled them to the bone.
Now, James watched as the Royalist army marched across the river towards the fortress, marching in step to an unfamiliar tune that the drums and fifes were playing behind them.
James once again wondered why the Death Eaters did not simply blast the ice apart, but the proposal had been shot down by the higher ups, much to the garrison's dismay. Apparently, the higher-ups and the reinforcements felt that despite the long range weapons of the enemy, once it came down to individual fighting, the Death Eaters would prevail.
As James watched the enemy approaching, he seriously doubted that conclusion.
Bottom of the Outer Walls
The royalist troops had reached the walls in good time, sprinting forward when they'd cleared the river. Immediately, the Death Eaters began to open fire on the approaching mass of soldiers, but the Royalist Shielders seemed to deflect anything that went their way, save for a few killing curses that claimed the lives of those soldiers who failed to dodge the sickly green light.
Hurriedly, the front row of troops began to put up the scaling ladders, with victorious cheers resounding all around as they were set up. With a fierce battle cry, the first soldiers began scaling the walls. Some were killed on the way up from Killing Curses, but most of the Death Eaters were kept at bay due to suppressing fire from the bottom of the walls. Eventually, the first men jumped over the wall. Again, some were killed while others managed to survive by swinging their weapons at the nearest enemy's head.
One such surviving soldier was a young recruit from the 78th Highlanders, one Douglas McIntyre. A native of Edinburgh, Douglas had been a Squib who had been tossed out of the family for his lack of magic. The local recruiting officer had heard of him and sought him out, thus leading to his joining of the Imperial Armed Forces.
At first, he'd grumbled about the rigid discipline and the workload. Now, however, he couldn't be more proud of being part of the Imperial Forces.
With a mighty swing, Douglas split open the Death Eater's skull as he flipped the musket in his hands and fired a shot at another who was readying a spell. A spell whooshed overhead as he ducked, only now realizing that he must've lost his tricorne when he had scaled the wall. Turning around quickly, Douglas speared the offending Death Eater with his bayonet as several more of his comrades scaled the wall.
His company had been the one assigned to take the left wall and the gates. Even here amongst the heated fire, he could hear the regimental bagpipes blast away with the traditional funeral song, as if announcing the imminent death of their enemies.
Douglas pushed a nearby Death Eater against the wall with his musket, struggling to cut the man's air supply as more and more redcoats poured onto the wall. Eventually, Douglas had to keep the pressure up with one hand as he quickly looked for his military issue combat knife and thrust it into the man's side, making the Death Eater gasp in pain.
Twisting the knife, Douglas heard the man scream before crumpling against the wall, leaving Douglas the victor of that particular struggle. He took advantage of the brief respite to load his weapon once more, taking note of several Death Eaters running from the internal structures towards the stairways.
He turned his attention back to his comrades, many of which were running right for the gatehouse. Near the ladder was the company sergeant, who was ordering on the men.
"Sarge!" yelled Douglas, catching the man's attention. The Scotsman pointed directly at the incoming flow of Death Eaters, "Reinforcements from the internal compound!" he elaborated.
The sergeant seemed to understand as he called out for several volunteers to pour fire into the incoming Death Eaters. Douglas immediately volunteered to be one as he took careful aim with his musket. Once he'd acquired his target, he gently pulled back the hammer. He tracked the target with his barrel until he decided it was the opportune moment and then pulled the trigger, initiating a blast of smoke to pour out of his barrel as his Reductor bullet whizzed right at his target.
He whooped as he saw his prey's neck explode in reddish gore, to the horror of the men around him. His comrades similarly whooped as their own bullets found their targets.
As he saw the Death Eaters still coming, though, Douglas knew that several muskets firing into the crowd wouldn't be enough. He told so to the sergeant who seemed to agree.
"Reductor grenades!" bellowed the Scottish sergeant. "Lob 'em right at the bastards, boys!"
Putting down his musket beside him, Douglas fished into his pack for the aforementioned grenade, which was really a red orb with a pin sticking out of it. From what he understood of the grenade and the bullets he fired, the wizards who designed them had managed to compress a specific spell into the body of the shells, but due to their instability, they had to be stored in a compartment that needed to be shot with gunpowder, or in the case of the grenades, be mixed with a neutralizing agent which dissolved the protective shell.
Douglas quickly pulled the pin out and counted to one before lobbing the grenade at the gathering crowd of Death Eaters below. He watched in satisfaction as the grenade blew up above ground, decapitating many a Death Eater and ripping others' body apart.
Fortunately, combined with the grenades of his seven other comrades, the devastation had halted the advance of the Death Eater reinforcements. Nodding approvingly at him, the sergeant ordered the seven other volunteers to follow Douglas into the gatehouse with the rest of the company. Douglas glowed with pride as he realized he had been temporarily promoted to corporal for the duration of the battle.
Douglas quickly picked up his musket as he nodded to his seven comrades and led them towards the gatehouse, only to notice that the company ahead seemed to be unable to break into the gatehouse, unaware that as they tried to bring down the door, a group of Death Eaters was making its way up the stairs behind them. Giving a war cry, Douglas led his men against the oncoming Death Eaters, who seemed surprise at Douglas' charge.
Douglas wordlessly fired a shot at the leading Death Eater, blasting a hole into his chest as he bayoneted the next one, his men right behind him. Yelling fiercely all the way down, the eight Scots fought their way down the stairs, determined to protect the above company's rear.
Douglas slammed his musket's butt into a Death Eater's masked face, making blood splatter all over his face as he did so, but the Scotsman ignored the warm liquid running down his face as he flipped the gun around and swung it at another Death Eater. Behind him, he could hear as his seven comrades performed just as savagely against their foes.
Douglas realized that he was getting really far from the company, however, as he reached the bottom of the stairs, where a mass of Death Eaters awaited. He managed to bayonet one but saw quickly that another was readying to fire a spell at him. He was saved, however, when one of his seven assigned soldiers shot the man in the face, blasting the head away.
The Scotsman realized, however, that such lucky saves would not last unless they had a Shielder, which they didn't. He ducked under a Killing Curse and stabbed yet another Death Eater when he saw from the corner of his eye that a purple spell was going right for him.
'This is it' he thought, 'I'm going to die'
To his shocked joy, however, the spell bounced off a shield and hit a nearby Death Eater, seemingly eviscerating the man's entire belly. Douglas quickly retreated to a nearer position to his troops, which was when he noticed three new arrivals. One seemed to be wearing Shielder stripes on his red coat, whereas the other two seemed to be riflemen, from the green tunics they were wearing.
"The sergeant said you might be needing some help!" called out the Shielder, who quickly deflected another curse aimed at one of the Scots. Immediately, the offending Death Eater was brought down by one of the riflemen's shooting.
Douglas grinned at the man. "Help? We dinna need any help! We were doing just fine, eh boys?" he called out to his comrades, some of whom seemed injured, but still alive. They all called back affirmatively, making the Shielder laugh.
"Regardless, the company's made it through the gates! Sarge said to retreat back up to the walls!" the Shielder elaborated as he deflected yet another spell and dodged a killing curse. Douglas speared that one.
Douglas nodded at the man's suggestion and called for retreat, which the rest complied with by slowly making their way back up the stairway, fighting every inch of the way. Douglas remained at the front with the Shielder, bayoneting any he could and swinging his musket menacingly at the others. Behind him, he heard the riflemen load and fire several times, also helping the front row to keep the Death Eaters away.
Slowly, Douglas and his men fought their way back up the stairs, always keeping the Death Eaters at bay with musket and rifle fire, as well as the occasional bayonet stabbing. As they reached the top of the stairs, the hail of gunfire that held back the Death Eaters increased as the company of Highlanders began pouring fire over the walls and into the crowd below.
Thrown into confusion by the additional fire, the Death Eaters began to scramble back down the steps, dogged by heavy fire from the musketmen above. Douglas quickly made his way into the gatehouse, where ht finally drew a long breathe as he looked at the sergeant that had sent him off earlier with a grin.
"Flank" gasped Douglas, as he gave a weak salute, "Secured, sir."
The sergeant merely grinned at him. "Excellent work, soldier. I'll see you promoted for this," praised the sergeant, "If you hadn't stopped the buggers when you did, we would have had a damn hard time securing this gatehouse."
Douglas merely gave a weary smile. "Just doing our duty, sir."
Behind the sergeant, one of the men let out a loud cheer. Everyone turned to look at him as the man looked out the window with a grin. "The rest of the 78th is advancing! The colonel is with them!"
A cheer went up in the room as the advance of the 78th meant that the 96th Rifles had also secured their wall, and further indicated the beginning of the end of the siege. The sergeant looked around the room once with a smirk before nodding and pulling back the hammer on his musket.
"Alright, men!" barked the sergeant, "Can't let the other boys have all the fun, can we? Load and make ready!"
As one, the room began preparations for its next advance.
Fifty meters from the open gates…
Harry gave a grim smile as he leaned his drawn sword against his shoulder. He could hear the drums and fifes continuing to play British Grenadiers, thus leading the pace of the advancing troops.
Harry had decided to forego his horse as he led the second part of his army across the frozen river and across the snowy plains that led to the gates. Behind him, he knew the regimental colours and the Queen's Colours were marching in step with the regimental band players.
As they drew nearer to the gates, though, he started to hear a rising chant from the column behind him.
Bri-tan-nia, Bri-tan-nia, Bri-tan-nia
Harry gave a smile as the chant began to outdo the drums and fifes in volume, leading the fifes to stop playing altogether and the drums to start beating in tempo with the chant, each beat signaling one step forward.
Harry imagined that the fearless advance of the redcoat column would have made a fearsome sight to an external viewer, which gave him a modicum of satisfaction, since the external viewers here were the enemy.
Once within twenty meters of the gates, Harry rose his sword and cried out, "Column…HALT!"
Immediately, the drums and the redcoats behind them all stopped marching. Harry then called out, "By lines of twos on me! Form…UP!"
Just as quickly as they'd stopped, the redcoats marched up to where he stood and formed up two lines along his sides. Within the gates, he saw that the Death Eaters were attempting to regroup.
"Colour Guard! Form up behind the second line!" he ordered, and vaguely heard the thuds of the soldiers' boots as they marched up to their position behind the firing lines.
Harry now saw that the Death Eaters had taken notice of them and, seemingly preferring to confront the foes outside the castle, where the redcoats had no cover, they began surging towards him and his men. Harry gave a grim smile; he'd been hoping they would.
"Seventy-eighth!" he yelled, "MAKE READY!"
Along the lines, he vaguely heard the order being repeated by various sergeants. The Death Eaters were quickly making their way to the gates' arch, seemingly ignoring the readying redcoats, who were making sure their weapons were loaded before shouldering them again.
"PRESENT!" he called out next, lifting his sword, yet again hearing the order being repeated along the lines. Pausing now, he saw the Death Eaters reaching the gates' arch. "Aim right at the gates, men! You'll hit them no matter what!" he called out.
Harry watched as the enemy reached the arch, entered it, and dashed forward.
'Come on…closer…' he thought, "Just a bit closer…" he mumbled aloud.
The closest Death Eater had now reached the gate opening. One more step and the man would be out in the open. Harry swung down his sword.
"FIRE!"
Douglas watched from his vantage point at the window as the two lines of redcoats opened fire. Like rolling thunder, the muskets fired nearly in complete concert, the variations of timing making for a rather spectacular thunder-like sound. Douglas turned to the sergeant, who'd just finished making sure everyone was ready for the sally. The Scotsman was looking over at Douglas with an inquiring expression.
"The colonel just let the Death Eaters have it," reported Douglas, to the sergeant's nod.
The sergeant then turned to the assembled men in the gatehouse. "Men, time to go aid the colonel!" he ordered as he went for the entrance, where they'd posted sentries to keep back the Death Eaters. As expected, the men all gave cheers as they followed him out.
As the sergeant and the rest of the company stood near the stairway, getting ready to charge, the sentries kept pouring fire into the enemy below. Douglas drew a long breathe as he waited for the order. It was easy to keep fighting once you'd begun, but starting over was just as hard as starting the first time.
The sergeant also drew a long, steadying breathe before he yelled, "CHARGE!" leading the way as he dashed down the stairs, Douglas and the men right behind him, the regimental bagpipes blaring the funeral song they'd played earlier.
With a yell, Douglas followed the sergeant around the bend in the stairway, revealing himself to the enemy as he charged forward. One Death Eater seemed to notice him and was about to shout a warning when Douglas fired his musket at the man, blowing his head apart.
That did seem to catch the other Death Eater's attention, but in a more horrified way. The shock of the Death Eater's death was time enough for several of the oncoming redcoats to mark their targets and fire, causing a few more Death Eaters to fall.
But now the element of surprise was gone. Reacting quickly, the Death Eaters began to pour spellfire onto the flanking redcoats. Unfortunately, the redcoats only had a single Shielder left—the one that had saved Douglas and his men previously—and so many of the killing curses hit home. Douglas watched from the corner of his eye as a man beside him fell to the ground after having been on the receiving end of said curse. And still the redcoats charged.
Another man behind him fell screaming as a slashing hex cut off his right arm. And still the redcoats charged.
As Douglas closed the gap quickly between him and the crowd of Death Eaters, he heard yet another thud as another man fell victim to a killing curse And still they charged on.
Fifteen feet.
Ten feet.
Five feet.
Douglas gave a yell as he rammed his bayonet into a Death Eater's midsection. He quickly disengaged it as he slammed the butt of his musket into another's mask, making the front of the Death Eater's face explode with ceramic and blood as the man's nose was broken into a million pieces.
Douglas punched the man in the face for good measure as the Death Eater went down. He then twisted himself in order to avoid a curse thrown at him by the man behind his latest victim. He quickly pulled out his knife and threw it right at the Death Eater's chest, eliciting female screams as it embedded itself into the apparent woman's heart.
Douglas was mildly surprised by the sex of his latest victim, but didn't let it affect him as he drove his bayonet into yet another Death Eater.
After all, he couldn't really worry about propriety when a hundred people around him wanted him dead, could he?
"FIRE!"
Harry watched with satisfaction as the Death Eaters fell by the dozens as the narrow arch didn't allow them much movement. As soon as the first row of Death Eaters had been killed, several of the bullets had flow right above them as they fell and hit the second row.
"BAYONET CHARGE!" ordered Harry, and he heard the order be repeated several times again. As one, the men swung forward their muskets all the while giving a fierce war-cry.
"CHARGE!" he yelled as he sprinted forward, the men right behind him.
Harry ran as fast as he could towards the enemy, his sword held low until he came within a foot of slashing distance, at which point he raised it high and then swung down fiercely with a roar. His victim went down screaming as he slashed the Death Eater across the chest deeply. Kicking the man back, Harry dove at the next man as the redcoats stabbed the enemy with their bayonets.
Harry slashed at one man before twisting around and, bringing up his pistol, firing right at another man's face, the resulting exploding head drenching his face in blood. Similarly, the rest of the 78th was performing just as fiercely as he was, and slowly, the Death Eaters' resolve began to waver, and then finally broke.
Many yelled in terror as they ran back towards the central stronghold, where they hoped to seek refuge, but were dismayed when they found the 96th Rifles and the other company of the 78th guarding its doors, having broken through the Death Eaters' flanks and linking up.
Others tried to throw down their wands and beg for mercy, only to be stabbed or shot to death.
Their orders were set in stone. No prisoners.
The screams wouldn't die out for another half hour.