CHAPTER 3- Escalation

GREAT HALL- 0800H

Harry was poking around his porridge when a small second year approached him with a piece of parchment. He looked up and saw the boy hesitantly offer it to him.

"E-excuse me. Professor Dumbledore asked me to give this to you."

Harry took the parchment from the nervous boy and gave him a nod in thanks. He unfurled the parchment and furrowed his brows. His friends looked at him curiously.

"What did he want, Harry?" asked Ron.

He was so focused on reading the parchment that he did not notice Ginny sitting to his left.

"Hello. What's with him?" she asked Ron and Hermione as she pointed at Harry.

Harry abruptly sat up, nearly hitting a student walking behind him. "Sorry!" he told the surprised student. He turned to his friends and exhaled deeply.

"Dumbledore's first lesson is tonight. He told me to bring you, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna."

All three of them shared shocked expressions. Never in all their years in Hogwarts did they believe that Dumbledore would be offering them free lessons.

"B-but Harry, Ginny and Luna have to revise for OWLs. This would take up too much of their time and I've already made Ginny her study schedule…." She continued to explain to Harry the importance of the OWL exams over these special lessons and even suggested that they can fill Ginny and Luna in on what Dumbledore would be teaching them, much to Ginny's chagrin.

Harry mulled this over. The special lessons with Dumbledore would probably take up much of their busy schedules, especially Ginny's.

'But Dumbledore wouldn't create special lessons for all of us if he thought that it would compromise our studies. 'He thought silently as he listened to Ginny trying very hard to convince Hermione to let them in on the lessons.

He made his decision; he's bringing them with him. He was totally not doing this just so he could spend more time with Ginny.

"Hermione, Dumbledore wouldn't compromise our studies for his special lessons. There must be a reason why he invited all six of us with him. Why don't we bring them along tonight and they decide whether the lessons are going to be too much to handle?" He said to a gobsmacked Hermione.

"I can't believe you! This is their O.W.L. Year, they need to stick to their revision schedules. Ginny already has Quidditch and Luna is in a different house! I'm sorry Harry, I won't—", she was interrupted by the hyper redhead beside Harry.

"Come on, Hermione. Please? It's like Harry said, if we think we couldn't handle it, then we'll just say so." Ginny finished.

The sudden closeness caused Harry to blush profusely. He then turned his face to a fuming Hermione, who ignored Harry's predicament, and simply glared at the both of them.

Finally, she huffed a breath and said, "Fine. But if ever you decide to continue with these special lessons and start complaining about all the schoolwork you'll have, don't come to me for help!" She stomped away carrying her books, leaving them all behind.

"Oi! Wait up!" Ron shouted at her as he was finishing up his sixth helping of pudding. He quickly grabbed his things and nearly fell backwards in his hurry. He turned to Harry, red in the face.

"Come on then. We'll be late for class!" Ron told Harry.

"I'll catch up." He told Ron, who was shaking his head and merely grunted.

With Ron and Hermione gone, he was left alone with the subject of his affections.

"Thanks for sticking up for me. I know she means well; I just don't like to be left out on something important. "She told Harry gratefully.

Harry scratched the back of his head and simply nodded. "It's nothing. But I just need you and Luna to be sure about this. These are lessons late in the evening and you'll probably need your rest after all the studying and-"

She just chuckled at him and said, "We'll be fine, Harry. I don't need you getting all noble over my study schedule. Besides, lessons with Dumbledore? Who would've thought we'd even get the chance?"

Harry simply looked at her, now realizing that this would make them the only students (that he knew of) to be under the direct tutelage of the greatest wizard of all time. He grinned at this and saw Ginny grinning too: she could definitely tell what he was thinking.

Not realizing how stupid the both of them looked right now, he suddenly jumped at the thought of being late for his first class of the year.

"Blubbering gobshite I'm going to be late!" He exclaimed as Ginny laughed aloud. It was a glorious sound, he said to himself.

"Go on Potter, you wouldn't want to lose points already. We need that cushion for later." She told him gleefully.

"Right back at you, Weasley." He rebutted.

"My class is still in an hour. I'm not the one losing us points!" She told him cheerfully.

Harry just shook his head and gave her a smile as he left for Transfiguration. It was definitely worth it.

FORBIDDEN FOREST- 1200H

"White Castle, this is Razorback 2-Actual, proceeding to Phase Line Yellow. Over."

"Understood, Actual. Be advised, groundskeeper has informed us of Class A organisms within the vicinity. Proceed with caution. Over."

"Copy, White Castle. Out."

"Keep yer eyes wide, lads. Watch your sectors!" ordered a grizzled Platoon Leader Lieutenant Seymour. This wasn't his first rodeo into the bush, having served with distinction in the Persian Gulf and most recently, in Yugoslavia a few years ago. Magical or not, a Forest was a Forest, he said. Today would be the first of many Muggle patrols into the Forbidden Forest for the year and it would be the first time he would lead a bunch of Yanks; since he was the most experienced British platoon commander within the Contingent. He knew the Americans were good fighters, but tended to be cocky as time went on and hoped they would be humbled by the nuances of jungle warfare, as had their forefathers in Vietnam.

The patrol arrived at a clearing surrounded by large roots and tree trunks. The thick forest covered the area in relative darkness. Seymour checked his map and found that his patrol has reached the designated area. He raised his fist, halting the patrol.

"All eyes wide and weapons ready, we don't know what's out here. Call out what you see. Melvin!" the platoon leader ordered. The young radioman, Private First Class Melvin, offered the handset to his platoon leader.

"White Castle, this is Razorback 2- Actual; we have reached Phase Line Yellow. Over."

*static

'Damn comms.' He thought wryly.

"White Castle, this is Razorback 2-Actual. I say again, we have reached Phase Line Yellow. Over."

*static

"Bollocks!" he muttered.

He wracked his brains on the next course of action. He huffed a breath he didn't know was holding and looked back at the men he was leading. 'They need the experience,' Command said.

'Screw it.'

He signalled the patrol to move on. They will end their patrol on Phase Line Red, which is just a klick away from their current position and move back to base before sundown.

Almost thirty minutes into the hour, many of the men caught something extremely foul in the air. The number of horseflies grew sevenfold as they neared a clearing along Phase Line Red. The veteran lieutenant knew something was wrong as the pungent smell continued to invade every man's nostril causing some of them to retch. This meant one thing: there were corpses somewhere.

As if Fate saw it fit to prove him right the point man, Private Boyd, came to a sudden stop. Seymour ordered his patrol to halt as the flies and the smell were beginning to overwhelm them. In all his years, he could never get used to the rank smell of death. He put this thought out of his mind and turned to an American sergeant; he spoke to him in a lowered voice.

"I want 360 degree coverage on all sectors. MGs and SAWs to cover our flanks. I need rifles to watch the trees and scan for possible hostiles. I want call outs on every shot." he finished as the sergeant relayed his orders to the men.

He ordered his radioman and another rifleman to accompany him in approaching the seemingly petrified point man. They were close enough that they could see the man shaking and sweating uncontrollably.

The men behind Seymour began to cough and retch as they neared the fly-infested clearing. As Seymour made to grab the shaking Private back to the patrol, he caught a sight of the grotesque display before him.

Five rotting carcasses with hands bound and skin a sickly green. Yellow puss covered their wounds and botflies feasted on their remains: all mutilated beyond recognition. Faintly, he noticed that some of them had fatigues on, and one had a shining dagger on its chest with a piece of paper tied to the hilt. Seymour was at a loss; he forgot about the young private who had fallen to his knees, his weapon loose in his arms. The retching behind him took him out of his thoughts and he managed to regain his bearings. He turned to his men in a fury; he quickly became incensed. He found it easy to get a handle of the situation when pissed as hell. He grabbed the keeling private and kicked the retching men behind him and began barking out his orders.

"OI! QUIT YOUR YAKKING AND GET ON YOUR FEET! MELVIN, RADIO! BOYD, ON YOUR BLOODY FEET YOU FUCKING DORIS! GET BACK TO THE PATROL AND WATCH YOUR SECTORS!"

He felt a renewed sense of urgency at the situation. Someone or something brought these corpses here, and he intended to find out what.

"White Castle this is Razorback 2- Actual, are you receiving me? Over!"

A few seconds later, a slightly garbled but understandable transmission responded over the line.

"Razorback 2- Actual, this is White Castle, go ahead. Over."

"White Castle, be advised. We are half a klick from Phase Line Red and have come across five remains, possibly military, coordinates are as follows….."

LATER

A massive investigation was underway as the combined force of Muggle and Magical investigators swarmed the scene. It took almost eight hours for Explosive ordnance disposal teams and Cursebreakers to clear the area for any explosives, booby traps and dark curses. The patrol that found the bodies were being debriefed by members of the Muggle militaries and by Ministry Aurors. The corpses were yet to be identified, but the fatigues worn by several of the corpses and the recent news reports pertaining to American soldiers disappearing from major bases convinced many investigators that these incidents were connected. The dagger found on one of the bodies was identified as that belonging to the Lestrange family; confirming suspicions that this was perpetrated by the Death Eaters. The parchment attached to the hilt of the dagger contained a message to be hand delivered to Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter.

"So, what should we do with it?" asked a ministry Auror.

"Is it clear of curses and the like? I wouldn't want to explain to the whole school why the Headmaster was suddenly Portkeyed out of existence by a piece of parchment." Spoke another Auror.

The cursebreaker in charge nodded, and performed a final diagnostic spell on the parchment.

"All clear."

The aurors breathed a collective sigh and were approached by several Muggle investigators.

"Any idea what these Death Eaters were planning to do?" one of the investigators asked the wizards.

The lead Auror in the investigation was the one to reply.

"No one knows for sure, but I believe the intent was to send a message to the lot of us: Don't fuck with the Dark Lord." He finished grimly.

"That's likely the case." The small group of wizards and muggles turned in shock at the voice of the man before them: Dumbledore.

"Good evening, gentlemen. I trust you have managed to decipher the intent behind this grievous crime. With that, I am sincerely grateful for your continued service against the Dark lord. But now I must ask you to give me the letter. I will be using it for further study." He asked them genially and offered his right hand.

The investigators looked at each other and shrugged.

"Knock yourself out, sir." An investigator said as he gave him the parchment.

"Excellent, do carry on. And please, be mindful of the kneazles." He bid them farewell and disappeared into the night; leaving behind a bemused group to deal with the crime scene.

HEADMASTER'S OFFICE

2300H

It was time for the first of many private lessons with Harry and his friends. This past summer has forced the wizened headmaster to reconsider his most recent actions. As the Dark Lord's forces grew stronger and bolder, he realized that having Harry keep important details of his mission to defeat Tom Riddle from his other three friends would only serve to lengthen his struggle unnecessarily. He knew that the Longbottom boy would be a great ally in the fight against Tom and that with the Lovegood child's impressive level of perception on all things obscure, he believed that it would be just right to include them in this quest for Horcruxes. He also suspected that the youngest Weasley may know more about Voldemort's soul anchors than she let on, hence convincing him to offer the same invitation to her. He returned his thoughts to Harry; the reluctant, yet courageous boy burdened by a destiny that would forever make him a marked man. He hoped that with his friends, they would be able to help him in ways that even the great Albus Dumbledore cannot.

'He has his friends with him. He must understand that he needs them just as they need him.'

A knock on the door ended his musings. He set aside Lestrange's bloody parchment (and the disturbing events of the past few hours) on his table and readied himself for tonight's lesson.

"Enter."