Prologue

"If you walk out that door, don't expect to find me here when you get back!"

Major Jack O'Neill tried not to snap back at Sarah, reminding himself that it was the hormones talking. His wife, Sarah, was in the seventh month of pregnancy and was in an overly emotional state. He was sure she didn't really mean it.

"I'll return as soon as I can," said Jack, walking out of the house.

He winced at the sound of glass shattering, followed closely by Sarah yelling, "I want a divorce!"

There were times when Jack despised his job. This was one of them. He'd tried get Sarah to talk to him, but she was so upset that he was being shipped out two months before their child was due that she'd refused to even take his calls.

Not to mention that he was stuck in England dealing with some sort of terrorist thing. Apparently the Brits were worried that it might spread to the Americas and had called for help. Which was why Jack and his team were in the middle of London making sure that these terrorists never again thought about entering the US.

Although why the military had been called in instead of the FBI or CIA or some other group much more qualified for this sort of thing, Jack wasn't sure. Something about them being too dangerous.

The first part of the mission had already been completed, leaving Jack with two days off. Which was why he was in a dingy pub he'd found entirely by accident, trying to drown his sorrows. Who in their right mind named a bar the "Leaky Cauldron" anyway? Probably some English thing.

Even though he could care less about strange fashion statements, Jack couldn't help but notice the clothing the patrons wore. Men and women both in ankle length dress thingies, some with cloaks as well. Did they think they were witches or something? He fought back the urge to laugh as he motioned for the barkeep, a man by the name of Tom, to bring him another whisky.

He'd moved up from beer to whisky, about an hour earlier. It was some sort of local brew called fire whisky, and rather good, if he did say so himself.

Jack blinked, then decided he was seeing things when a blonde walked out of the fire place in a flash of green light. The blonde sat down at a table near his, allowing Jack to examine her further.

She was, he had to admit, beautiful. She had white blonde hair, the palest skin he'd ever seen on a living being, and eyes the palest shade of gray. Her body was nicely shaped, although by American standards she could stand to lose around twenty pounds. Jack had always preferred women who looked healthy instead of emaciated.

The woman looked in his general direction, with her large, silvery eyes. Seeing the look in her eyes, Jack gave the woman a measuring glance. It wasn't often that one saw a thousand-yard stare on anybody not in a military uniform.

After several long moments, the woman stood and moved to his table. The faraway look was still in her eyes, despite being aware of her surroundings.

"You're actions won't make a single difference," said the woman, her accent marking her as an upper class woman. "The Dark Lord does not consider Muggle soldiers from across the pond to be a threat."

Dark Lord? Oh yeah, that's what the leader of those terrorists was referred to as. From what he understood, the Brits were afraid to even say his name.

"What do you know?" And for that matter, how did she know who he was? The team wasn't even in UK on an official level.

"Please," she said, the thousand-yard stare replaced by a look of grief. "They will kill you. Torture you to death for their twisted enjoyment."

"What do you mean?" demanded Jack.

"They plan to attack tomorrow night, just before dawn," she continued, ignoring his question. "Don't be there when they arrive."

"Why not? Do you know anything else?"

Even if the woman was off her rocker, Jack knew that they'd be moving from safe house before morning. If this woman could find him, then she could obviously find the rest of the team.

"Please, be out of there before it's too late."

"Why did you tell me this?"

A tear fell from the woman's eye. "My brother-my brother killed him." The thousand-yard stare returned as the woman muttered under her breath in a singsong voice, "Blood, blood everywhere. On my hands and in my hair." A hysterical laugh escaped her mouth as more tears fell.

"Whom did your brother kill?" asked Jack, making sure to keep his voice low.

"Not going to be a wedding anymore. Can't marry a dead man," whispered the woman. "Lucius destroys everything I love."

"Is Lucius your brother?" Obviously the woman needed professional help, but the name sounded familiar.

"The great and powerful Lucius Malfoy, second only to the Dark Lord," she said, her words clearly mocking the man. "We must all bow to his royal highness. Long live Lucius, king of the vain and moronic."

"Ri-ight," said Jack.

Now he remembered. Lucius Malfoy had been mentioned in one of the reports as high up in the organization. The woman actually looked quite like the picture they had of the man.

"So Lucius killed your man," Jack said carefully. "And now you want to help."

"This is the last chance I'll have," she said.

"Why? What's going to happen?"

"The devil shall cast out the dawn when the moon is conceived," she stated.

Definitely insane, decided Jack. Distracted by some sort of disruption near the back of the pub, Jack didn't notice the woman putting something in his whisky.

"So, who are you, anyway?" he asked.

"Eos. Eos Malfoy," she said softly. "I was going to be the Black Dawn but the devil killed the Little King." Another half hysterical laugh. "Poor Regulus, never knew who he was getting himself into. He only wanted to make the Hunter proud."

Jack drank some of his whisky, once more keeping a close eye on the woman.

Jack stumbled back into the safe house a little after noon, still trying to remember what had happened the night before. It wasn't very clear, but after meeting the crazy woman-Eos, his mind supplied-he'd gone to one of the rooms above the pub with her. He tried not to curse. Sarah would kill him if she ever found out about this.

Nearly bumping into his CO, Frank Cromwell, Jack remembered Eos's warning.

Molly Weasley tried not to cluck disapprovingly. What in the name of Merlin had Helios been thinking, marrying a woman like Eos Malfoy? Everybody knew that she'd been disowned by the Malfoy family for good reason. After all, Eos was a… scarlet woman of the worst sort.

Not ten months after the death of her betrothed, Regulus Black, Eos had given birth to a child. A bastard child. That was not to say that Molly didn't like the child. Luna was one of the sweetest babies she'd ever met.

Helios Lovegood was much to good for a woman such as Eos Malfoy, even if he did run a paper such as the Quibbler. He'd even claimed Luna as his daughter; regardless of the fact that everyone knew the girl wasn't his.