A large bird diving at you – complete with vicious looking talons and beak – aren't something you see every day. Therefore, it wouldn't have been too surprising that Jack O'Neill froze to find himself seemingly the subject of such an odd attack. It would have startled anyone. He didn't freeze, though. He was battle seasoned and had faced far crazier things than some whacked out bird. And even as he dodged to the side to avoid the talons, he realized that he'd seen the bird before and had no real reason to dodge in the first place.

He wasn't the only one to figure it out, either.

"Hedwig!"

The owl flared her wings at the very last instance, turning her dive into a neatly controlled swoop, and landed on a branch right beside Jack's head – just a few feet below Fawkes.

Surprised by the sudden appearance of the owl, the clearing was mostly silent – although several of the centaurs had actually pulled bows and many had managed to knock an arrow onto their strings (testament to just how swift they were with their weapons of choice) – and Sam Carter walked over to Jack, her eyes on the owl.

"Are you okay, sir?"

Jack scowled, but nodded.

"Yeah."

He had come very close to diving for cover, and would have felt foolish for doing so – which annoyed him – but he didn't have time to be annoyed, because he hadn't missed the fact that the owl had a note on her leg.

"She has a note," Daniel said, at the same time Jack realized it.

"Yeah."

He just didn't like getting all that close to those wicked talons and powerful beak. O'Neill was many things, but a bird lover wasn't really one of them. And now he had two of the things looming close at hand.

"Want me to get it, sir?" Carter asked.

Which only made him scowl more. He hated being so transparent. Even with someone who knew him so well.

"I got it."

By this time the wizards in the group had overcome their own surprise at the sudden arrival of the owl and were gathering around.

"That's Harry's bird…" Sirius said.

Jack didn't reply – since it didn't really warrant a response. He reached over – carefully – and untied the note from the owl's leg while she watched him with that piercing unwavering gaze. It was folded about a million times, and took a minute to open, but when he did he felt his stomach clench.

"What does it say?" Sam asked, seeing his expression change from wariness and curiosity to worry.

"It's from Harry's aunt," he said, handing the note over to Sirius, who reached for it. "He's gone."

"Gone?" Daniel echoed.

"She says he vanished from the doorstep – with someone who claimed to be me."

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Harry Potter was sitting on the floor in the pitch dark, his arms around his knees and his head resting on his forearms. Mainly because there wasn't anyplace else for him to sit – and there certainly wasn't anything else for him to do.

No one knew where he was – he didn't even know where he was – and there was no way his aunt and uncle would care enough to even think about trying to get a hold of someone in the wizarding world to let them know what had happened. He knew for a fact that they weren't going to call the police, either. Not that the Muggle police would be able to do anything even if Uncle Vernon did suddenly decide to call them.

Harry wasn't holding his breath.

In the few hours he'd been here, he hadn't been hurt – of course, he hadn't been fed or given anything to drink, either – but he was sure something was coming. Voldemort wasn't going to give anyone a chance to rescue him. Not this time. Not after Harry had already managed to escape so many times before.

Voldemort was probably just trying to come up with some particularly painful way of dealing with him. One couldn't live as long as the other did, after all… and Harry knew Voldemort knew that, too.

The sound of the door to the room opening brought his head up, and he frowned at the hooded figure that entered silently, back lit by the light in the corridor behind it for just a moment before closing the door tightly. A light flared, making Harry squint for just a moment as he was blinded by it, illuminating the pale face that was under the hood of the cloak.

It was Draco Malfoy.

Harry felt hatred course through him, washing away what little pity he'd felt for his Slytherin counterpart only days before. This was Malfoy's fault. Dumbledore's death was because of Draco. Draco and his evil, twisted father.

"Come to gloat, have you?"

In the light coming from the tip of his wand, Draco looked young and a little scared – but Harry knew better.

"No."

"Then get out."

"You're in danger, Potter…"

"Thanks for the tip, Malfoy. I hadn't figured that one out for myself."

The other boy didn't even scowl.

"I'm serious, Harry. Real danger. They're going to kill you."

Harry snorted in disbelief, his amazement at the naïve statement suppressing his own fear at hearing what he'd expected all along.

"You just figured that out? No wonder you're not in front of any classes except Snape's."

Now Malfoy did scowl.

"I didn't think they were going to kill you…"

"Well what did you think this was all about?" Harry snapped. "Voldemort's been trying to kill me since I was a baby – probably with help from your dad even then – and you're just now catching on?"

Malfoy paled even more – something Harry never would have believed possible.

"You need to get out of here."

"You think?"

It was sarcastic, but Harry couldn't help himself.

"I-"

"I'd love to get out of here," Harry interrupted. "But there's the small problem of probably having every death eater in the world guarding my door – including your good mate Voldemort."

"He's not my mate," Malfoy said. "And there aren't many guarding this place… they're all out doing something else. Or looking for someone."

"One or a hundred, it doesn't matter. I'm locked up."

"I can help."