AN: I cannot apologize enough for the wait I have put you, my loyal readers, through. There are no words to explain how regretful I am about my long silence, and the only justification I have is that deciding to end the story with this fourth installment has forced me to rewrite the final few chapters, making sure that the end of the Dark War is as epic and as action-packed as I conceivably could without detracting from the overall quality of the story thus far.

This is not the final chapter of the story, despite its seeming title. There are a good few chapters left for me to upload, and more than a few left for me to write. When the updates take us to that point, however, I will beg you all to have patience (not that you've not shown extraordinary patience already) so that I can write the chapters as fast and as best as I can.

Cheers,

Marquis Black

Northern South Ayrshire – Imperial Beachhead

The deployment was going well.

Already, 15 of the 45 Airships that had been detached for this particular wing of the attack had unloaded their cargo and assigned units. Tents had sprung about throughout the entire region, and the Warders had quickly gone to work to create Anti-Apparation, Anti-Portkey, and perimeter wards, as well as charming the tents to self-regulate their temperature, given the oncoming cold of winter. Those soldiers who had been found to lack any particular duties had been put to work to construct a hastily built barricade around the camp, even as it grew, resulting in the construction of new barricades every so often as the camp grew, thereby dividing the camp into several sections.

The man in charge of overseeing this particular deployment, however, did not see anything wrong with this. In fact, it just meant better organization, as far as he was concerned.

Standing on top of a slightly elevated hill in the camp, he was hunched over, looking at several documents sprayed on a table, barking out orders as he made up his mind. Communicators would then relay the orders to the appropriate people—so far, there were 45 Communicators on hand, each of them targeting a different sub-commander.

"Brigadier Longbottom, sir!"

Newly promoted Brigadier Neville Longbottom raised his eyes to meet the oncoming Communicator, who had his wand out and against his ear, undoubtedly receiving a message. "What is it, Corporal?" he asked, one eye back onto the documents.

"The Implacable has finished unloading its supplies, but there seems to be some confusion as to whether the Hunter or the Orion is to unload next," reported the Communicator professionally.

Neville glanced sideways at an assistant, who instantly brought the wanted papers to the table and spread them out evenly before Neville's eyes.

"The Hunter is carrying segments of the Second Legion, and the Orion has the final convoy of Warders," reported the assistant dutifully.

Neville nodded once before tapping a finger pensively against the wooden table. The tapping noise went on five times before he made up his mind.

"The Warders are doing fine," he decided. "Have the Hunter unload next, and tell the Orion that it gets the turn after that."

"Yes, Brigadier."

As the Communicator walked off again, chattering into the end of his wand as if a phone, Neville turned his attention back to the papers already strewn all over his table. He pointed his index finger at a map of the area, which was being constantly altered to show the progress of the camp.

"When the lads from the Hunter arrive, I want them sequestered here, next to the Fifth Legion," he ordered, tapping the indicated spot. His assistant quickly scratched the order onto his notepad before nodding, indicating that Neville could go on. "…and I want the Orion's Warders to put up their tents apart from those already here," he tapped a spot again, "just in case we need them elsewhere in an emergency. Preferably next to the Sixth Legion detachment."

"Yes, Brigadier," assented the assistant. "And what about the First Legion? Will we be getting any of those?"

Neville gave his assistant a disbelieving look. "The First? Don't be absurd. The First are on the Invincible. They go where the Duke goes, and nowhere else."

"Yes, Brigadier."

"Ah, Brigadier?" another assistant tried to get his attention, and so Neville turned his eyes appropriately. "Colonel Bones respectfully wishes to know when her detachment of the Third Legion will be allowed to unload off the Edinburgh."

Neville successfully managed to repress a wince as he heard the name of his paramour. The fact that he had hidden out after the disaster at Empire's Helm had not gone over well with Susan, and she had been very, very vocal about her resentment over this.

Not to mention physical.

After the Defense of Harrisburg…

CRASH!

Neville successfully dodged the vase Susan had thrown, quite expertly, at his head by mere centimetres. They were at their common flat at the moment, having stolen away from the festivities, and Susan was being quite…well…obvious about her feelings.

"YOU STUPID, INSENSITIVE, BLOODY ARSEHOLE!"

Neville quickly ducked behind the couch as his lover began throwing spells his way. "Now, Susan-love, let's be rational about this…" he pleaded.

That seemed to set off the redhead even more. Her eyes were ablaze with fury, and she sent an extra-strong Slicing Curse at the couch, giving it a nice, deep gash, but not compromising Neville's hiding place.

"RATIONAL?! I'll give you—!" She couldn't formulate the words, so furious she was, so she just sent another slicing curse at the couch, further damaging it.

"Susie, please, hear me out, at least!" he begged her, hoping to whatever deity there be that he wouldn't have to duel the woman he loved.

Susan seemed impervious to his words, however. "Listen to you?!" she shrieked. "What possible reason could you have to make me believe you were dead for weeks and then reappear telling me that HARRY BLOODY POTTER told you to play dead?!"

"Well, when you say it like that—" Not the best choice of words, he realized in retrospect as Susan sent a blasting curse that forced him to dive backwards, lest the couch ram him into the ground.

Unfortunately, that meant she now had a clean shot at him, and next thing he knew, he was bound by ropes and leaning awkwardly against the wall. It was most uncomfortable. But then, having a furious girlfriend—maybe more—looming over you, holding her wand threateningly, and being unable to move at all would make anyone uncomfortable. To Neville's credit, he didn't squeak in fear.

"Do you know…" she started slowly, her voice radiating menace. "…what I went through when I'd heard the Third Legion had been wiped out?" she hissed. "Can you imagine what I felt when I realized you had apparently died?"

Neville managed to shake his head in the negative, eyeing the menacing wand warily. If he'd really wanted to, he could have easily broken out from his bonds and taken out Susan within seconds, but a part of him had decided that it would be wiser to weather this out.

Neville was a bit surprised, however, when he noticed the freely falling tears streaking down her pale cheeks consistently, forming a thin, watery line from her eyes to her jawbone. Susan was renowned for being an impassive commander, only showing excitement and any sort of positive emotion while in combat. To see her so vulnerable was definitely a first for Neville, and it shocked him more than her violent actions against him.

"Susan…" he began, but was cut off when she shook her head fiercely, letting the tears fly wild.

"NO, Neville!" she denied him the chance to speak. "This time, you shut up and you listen."

The fury that had Neville cowering behind a couch seemed to evaporate as she dropped to her knees in front of him and leaned forward to cup his head with her hands, which he absently noted were trembling madly. His eyes, however, were on hers, and he couldn't help but see the sheer heartbreak in them, causing him to weirdly feel some pain in his chest. Outside, Neville could hear some sort of hubbub. It sounded like much yelling—he supposed Harry had evoked the next stage of his plan.

"I nearly died when I heard the Legion had been annihilated," she whispered to him, keeping his eyes firmly on her. "I wanted to die, Nev."

"Susan…" started Neville again, but Susan cut him off by standing up abruptly and turning away from him, but not before undoing the binding charm. As Neville rubbed his sore wrists, he looked at her back and tried again. "Susie…"

"Don't," she replied quickly. Neville could tell she was still crying freely. "Don't. Just don't speak to me for a while."

"Susan…"

"I'll be staying with Hannah and Cynthia tonight," she told him abruptly, making Neville gape with horror. Was she leaving him for good? Part of him knew he couldn't blame her, but the more prevalent instinct was to protest fervently, to beg her to stay.

"Susan, please…" he tried, but as before, she cut him off.

"No, Neville," she said emphatically, shaking her head. "I need to cool off. If I…If I stay here, all the rage will come back, and I just can't deal with that right now."

Turning back to look at her lover, Susan knelt down and gave him a final, lingering kiss before straightening up. "I'll see you later, Neville." With that, she Disapparated on the spot, giving him no chance to try and stop her.

For the first time in years, Neville allowed himself to cry.

Ever since then, he'd only been able to see her during shift hours, when both of them were assigned to work for the Third Legion. Unfortunately, his heroics had cost him this brief allowance as well, as he was subsequently promoted to Brigadier, which came with an additional grant of the Victoria Cross, for "gallantry above and beyond the call of duty, and amazing self-sacrifice in service of your country," as the Queen had read. The bliss of that award, however, was somewhat dimmed when he saw some disapproval in the Queen's eyes when she'd glanced back and forth between him and Susan, who had refused to even look at him as the award was bestowed on him.

Had he done the right thing? Neville was certain he had. With the help of his surviving men, he had dealt a horrific blow to the Death Eaters and had brought the war's end so much closer.

But at what cost?

His beloved had all but forsworn him, his Queen seemed disappointed in him due to the former, and he felt his heart break every time Susan's name was mentioned. It almost made him want to quit the army.

Almost.

"Tell the Colonel that once the Edinburgh's turn comes up, she'll be allowed to unload," he told the Communicator evenly. Even if he was desperate for Susan's forgiveness, he would not play favourites, and he dearly hoped she knew that, or else he didn't know her as well as he thought he had.

"Yes, Brigadier."

Neville was quickly back on the map, pointing again to different sections. "Once the camp is ready and the order given, we'll be taking this route," he traced it on the map," and we'll be linking up with General Guinness' group over here," he pointed at a location about twenty miles south from Hogsmeade. "The Duke will then take over command of the offensive."

The assistants around him all nodded as they wrote down the orders, completely ignoring the oncoming Communicator. The woman in question, gave a short nod of respect to Neville before relaying her message.

"Brigadier, Field Air Marshall Potter requests your presence at the communicator stand for a conference of the officers in charge," she told him. Neville nodded in thanks.

"Thank you, Corporal, I'll be right there," he told her, before turning his attention back to the assistants. "Jefferson, you're in charge of making sure everything goes as I've directed while I'm gone. Dismissed."

With that, Neville turned on his heel and walked towards the special tent that had been set up for the communicator stand. Another impressive result of magic and technological hybridization, the stand served, to the best of his knowledge, as a sort of holographic communicator. However, because of this, it was necessary to set up closed areas for security, as anyone could easily hear the conversation.

Showing his pass to the Imperial Guards outside the tent (thus proving just how important security was when dealing with the communicator stands), Neville was quickly admitted into the tent, the imposing red-clothed Guards now barring the entrance fully. Inside the unimposing tent was a single, circular metallic platform on the floor. Attached to it was a similarly metallic stand, which held aloft a keyboard, along with some other instruments.

Neville made his way onto the platform and, turning to face the console, tapped in his name and identification number before finally pressing the activation button. Almost instantly, the platform beneath him began to glow blue, and several figures fizzled into being before him. All of them stood imposingly in different stances, except for the middle figure, upon whom all eyes were set.

"Ah, Brigadier Longbottom, how good of you to join us."

"I am here as summoned, Field Air Marshall."

Harry smiled from his command chair as Neville, the last amongst the commanders to join the briefing, fizzled into view. The young Brigadier looked worn and tired, and Harry couldn't blame him. Still, there was a briefing to be had. Harry once more swept his gaze across the pantheon of officers to make sure no one was left out.

From left to right were General of the Imperial Armies John Sulu, Admiral of the Fleets Tybalt Staples, Brigadier Neville Longbottom, Chief Artillery Officer Henry Ames and his XO, Ernie Macmillan, and finally the Head Warding Officer, Arthur Peterson. Each man was famous in their own way, and each of them were excellent commanders.

Beside Harry stood Ginny, who was staring at the pantheon emotionlessly. She was here as her husband's direct right-hand woman, although her role was not to relay information so much as get rid of pests in her husband's way. To his other side stood Admiral Wolf, who also gazed stonily at the six men who made up Harry's command staff for this invasion. The men in question would then relay the appropriate orders to their subordinates once the conference was done.

"Let's get started then, shall we?" suggested Harry pleasantly, resting his head on a fist. "As you are all aware, our target is the former School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Hogwarts," he introduced, and was pleased when the officers nodded. "What you don't know is that since our last encounter, the school has been magically reinforced several times over. Simply bombarding it into dust is no longer an option."

"If I may ask, where did you get this information?" asked Sulu quietly.

"As soon as the Death Eaters left the Isles and were trapped in Harrisburg, a group of scouts was dispatched to make preparations for our arrival," explained Harry easily. "They reported that the wards had been reinforced to such levels that they might as well be shields, and on par with the Invincible as well."

"So it's as you predicted," noted Neville's image, and Harry paused for a moment before nodding with a wry smile.

"Indeed," he confirmed. "This is no doubt the work of one Tom Riddle, formerly known as Lord Voldemort."

Where an uproar would have occurred in any other occasion upon mentioning the dreaded name of the allegedly Darkest Wizard of all time, this revelation was met with stony silence and a passing sense of acceptance. Even Ernie, who had grown up fearing the name of Voldemort, was rubbing his chin with a look of dawning comprehension.

"Yes, that makes sense," commented the fair-headed man. "I had it understood that Voldemort," he said the name without any trouble at all, "was in the custody of the Potters, but was somehow taken away from them inexplicably. I assume this third party is responsible for the return of Riddle?"

Harry smiled, pleased at the deduction. "Very good, Mister Macmillan," he said approvingly, before turning to Ginny. "Ginny?" he prompted.

Making an unconscious step forward, Ginny explained the Potters' suspicions, including the suspected identity of the person responsible. "We cannot be certain of this," she concluded, "but all indications seem to point towards this conclusion."

Another moment of silence passed as the officers digested this news, and Head Warder Peterson was the first to break the silence.

"Well, if this is true, then it shouldn't be too hard to calibre the instruments to pick up their signatures…" he posited. "But if we know this information, isn't it likely that the enemy does as well?"

Ginny glanced at Harry, who took over at her prompt. "We have reasons to believe that they do indeed know that we know," he confirmed. "My lovely wife feels that this has jeopardized the theorized locations of our objectives, but I respectfully disagree."

"Hmph," grunted Staples. "I'm thinkin' the little lady is right, Potter," he opined gruffly with a lack of decorum that would have had the Duke's staff reeling in outrage. "Why would Riddle keep them where he knows we'll find 'em? Seems like a damn stupid thing to do, given what they're meant to do!"

Even as Peterson and Ernie joined in, saying they agreed with Staples and Ginny, Neville kept his gaze on Harry, who seemed undisturbed by this protest. Something told Neville this was much more than it seemed, and so decided to play a gamble.

"He's given up on them, hasn't he?" he asked suddenly, silencing the debate and causing all eyes to fall on him.

"Hmm?" Harry made a questioning noise. Still, the raised eyebrow and amused glint in his eyes told Neville he was right on the dot.

"Riddle," he explained. "He's given up on immortality."

"Come off that, Neville," protested Ames. "Why would he? It's what he's always been searching for, isn't it?"

"That's because he had no other goal!" defended Neville. "Beyond the ability to live forever, he had nothing else to drive him!"

"So you're suggesting that Riddle has found this something now?" asked Wolf. Neville nodded.

"Might we inquire as to what this 'something' is?" asked Sulu neutrally, neither reproaching nor approving.

Neville glanced at Harry, who refused to speak, and so admitted, "I don't know. But I do think that he's got his sights set on something else now, something that's worth to him more than the ability to not die."

"Maybe he's seeking true immortality?" suggested Peterson, drawing his colleagues' gaze onto him. "We all know that the current method, the Horcruxes, are an imperfect method of living forever—one that does not guarantee human form when resurrected. Perhaps he has found another way, so as to counter this difficulty?"

Ginny shook her head. "That seems unlikely. Even with Riddle's vast knowledge of Dark practices, we have, with the end of the Death Eaters, the largest collection of Dark literature under our supervision," she dutifully reported. "Furthermore, as we had already predicted Riddle's return, we anticipated such a course of action on his part and had teams of researchers pour through the texts seeking out any obscure references to any such ritual."

Ginny paused to take a breath. "It was a lengthy process, and we required some additional archaeological information from the Confederacy, our Japanese and Asian allies, and the Resistance, but we managed to deduce that no such ritual exists."

"Impressive," commented Ames admiringly. "That is quite the mobilization of resources."

Sulu narrowed his eyes towards Harry, but remained polite. "Indeed. A very considerable mobilization I had not heard of previously. May I ask why, Air Field Marshall?"

"This was a Potter family initiative," responded Harry without any qualms. "All resources mobilized were of our own ownership. There was no cost to the government or usage of government resources whatsoever."

"The famous Marauders?" asked Peterson, interested. "That special militia the Crown gave your family special dispensation to assemble before the war?"

Harry nodded. "My father had the Marauders do the fact-hunting, and our own family did the research," he elaborated.

"Fascinating as this is," interjected Staples blandly, "we need to get to the damn plan, already. Potter?"

Harry chuckled at his colleague's impatience. "Very well," he relented. "Let us discuss the details of this operation."

He focused his gaze on Neville first. "Neville, you will be in command of the first detachment, as you already know," Neville nodded. "Your approach will take you south of Hogwarts, so you're going to end up on the opposing shore of the Black Lake. In addition, before reaching Hogwarts, you will link up with General Guinness' south-east wing and take them under your command."

"Are they to row across the Lake?" asked Ames, but Harry shook his head.

"No, and this is where Staples comes in," he said. Staples straightened up as he looked at Harry sharply. "Once the first detachment reaches the shores of the Lake, Admiral Staples will deploy his squadron to carry out two tasks. The first is to deploy a squadron of our best naval warships to provide covering fire for the second task. The task in question is the deployment of a battlefield bridge for the first detachment to use to cross the Lake. The enemy will no doubt be expecting us to have Neville's detachment circumvent the Lake, so if we do this, we'll have the advantage of surprise."

Harry now turned to Sulu. "General Sulu, you will be in command of our second detachment," he told the dark-skinned man. "It will be split into two groups. The first is the force that is to be our main, obvious force. This force is to keep the enemy's focus on it and off the first detachment. The second group is an airborne assault group that will be ready to flank the enemy on my command via several unused tunnels located throughout the grounds and nearby Hogsmeade."

"What about the gates?" asked Sulu, accepting his role tacitly. He knew that, at least until the war was finally over, he would be under Harry's command, even if technically he was the Duke's superior officer. "Hogwarts' gates are famous for being nigh-impregnable, and if I'm to keep the enemy focused on me, the gates need to be taken down."

Harry nodded, glancing at Ames and Ernie. "Correct, which is why I want the Artillery Brigade to accompany the second detachment and provide heavy siege fire to complement your assault."

Ames and Ernie both nodded in acquiescence to their orders, but Peterson raised an objection. "What about the first detachment? Won't their lack of artillery hinder their own assault?"

Harry shook his head. "Artillery would slow them down. The second detachment's role is to assault the cliff side of Hogwarts via the docks, where the deployable bridge will end. Carrying artillery pieces up that cliff would slow them down too much."

"Pulling a Wolfe, then?" asked Staples, referring to the intrepid and famous British assault on Quebec in the 18th century by James Wolfe.

"Pretty much," confirmed Harry. "The thing is, we need someone to manage to get inside the castle and cause some ruckus. With any luck, that should allow either detachment to push forward with less difficulty."

"Are we expecting much resistance, then?" asked Peterson, who hadn't yet received orders. "I mean, with the Death Eaters currently meeting their maker, how many Dark Wizards can Riddle have at his disposal?"

"We don't believe Riddle is relying on humans," interjected Ginny, causing the officers to frown and look at her for an explanation. "Since Riddle is undoubtedly aware of the lack of human resources for him to man his base, we believe he will be attempting to use simple, animated golems, of the like of Terracotta soldiers."

"I thought those were destroyed to the last?" asked Sulu askance. "They were a huge problem, after all. Leaving any intact could present a threat."

"We did dispose of them," confirmed Wolf. "I was in charge of finding the Death Eater depot while the Death Eaters were trapped in Harrisburg. We glassed the entire area. There is no chance of survival."

"Then what's he using?" asked Staples gruffly.

"Riddle is vastly powerful," reminded Ernie. "It's not a stretch to think that he may have created his own versions."

"Agreed," said Ames, backing up his XO. "Riddle, from what I've read and heard, was a very powerful man, able to match Dumbledore in combat, and everyone knows that Dumbledore is a master at creating such golems."

"Speaking of the old man," interjected Neville. "What are we going to do with him?"

Harry smiled eerily at the question. "We? We do nothing," he answered. "Dumbledore will do everything for us."

Neville looked like he wanted to protest, but silenced himself when Harry lifted himself out of his chair, barely acknowledging the stiffening of his wife and subordinate at his sides. He had a mad glint in his eyes as a confident smile spread on his face.

"My friends, we must all understand just how close we are," he told his audience. "We are finally on the cusp of victory," he asserted strongly, raising a half-curled hand, as if carrying an orb. "Hawke, the millions that died during the coup and the war…we're finally at the end!"

"One more," he continued. "One more, tiny push and we'll have done it all!" Spreading his arms to his sides, palms open receptively, Harry looked every bit the triumphant conqueror awaiting his destiny.

"The Dark War…" he spoke almost reverently. "…will be OVER!"