"I demand that you release me at once!"
The Deatheater who had grabbed Vernon Dursley didn't look at all concerned by the tone of Dursley's voice, or the threatening scowl he was giving him. Both of which had done well cowering those around him in his business and daily routine, but wouldn't do much against a fully trained wizard, really.
"You're in no position to demand anything, Muggle," the man told him darkly.
As he'd been speaking, he'd been roughly guiding Dursley down a hallway in a house that they'd entered only moments before. A house that didn't look anywhere near as large from the outside as it apparently was in the inside. Now he waved his wand with his free hand and a door opened in front of them to the right.
"You'll be lucky if you come out of this alive."
With that, he pushed Dursley into the room and slammed the door shut behind him. An instant pounding from the other side plainly said that Vernon Dursley wasn't going to accept what was happening to him meekly, but the very fact that the Deatheater simply turned and left was just as obvious a sign that the Muggle really didn't have a chance to escape.
OOOOOOOOOOO
"He's here, Master."
Voldemort didn't look up from the ancient book he'd been looking through. Instead, he simply nodded, as though he had already known. As far as his minions knew he probably had.
"Good."
There was a hesitation, and the Deatheater spoke again, timidly.
"Why not just kill him, Master? We don't need the Muggle, do we?"
Voldemort turned, and the man cringed, expecting a blow – or worse. It never landed.
"I want the boy. The Muggle is his uncle, and his aunt will seek help from the Order to get him back."
"She's a Muggle though… What does she know about getting in touch with the Order?"
Voldemort was too satisfied with his own cleverness to punish the man for his stupidity.
"She knows of the wizard world, fool. She knows where to find the help she needs."
"But-"
Voldemort frowned, getting a little annoyed despite himself.
"When she ventures out to get that help, she'll be taken. She shares blood with the boy – through her sister – and she'll be the catalyst in the spell that brings Potter to me."
Sensitive enough to his master's moods, the Death eater didn't ask any more questions. He just nodded obsequiously and left the room before Voldemort could remember that he had been one of those responsible for allowing the Malfoy brat to help Potter escape in the first place – which had caused the need for retrieving him again.
Voldemort didn't even notice his departure. He was already studying the book once more, frowning as he read, but still looking satisfied with himself.
OOOOOOOOO
Minerva was the first to break the silence in the Great Hall.
"We don't know that the spell you invoked from the scroll is one that would protect you from this type of magic, Jack…"
O'Neill shrugged.
"It seems like a lot of people have gone through a lot of effort to get this spell to me, Minerva. There's probably a pretty good reason why. This way makes as much sense as any."
It actually made a lot of sense. All the wizards in the room knew it, but none of them wanted to be the one to say it. If they were wrong, Jack O'Neill would most likely die – and none of them wanted to be responsible for that.
Sam frowned, though.
"I thought this spell kept him safe from magic…? How could you use another spell on him?"
It was Brandon who answered. The American wizard had researched the older spells a lot more than many of his European counterparts had, and it was probably one of the reasons that they'd been brought in on this in the first place.
"If we're right about the effects of the scroll spell – and without testing it we can't be one hundred percent positive we're right – then Colonel O'Neill isn't safe from magic. He's just safe from the dangers of the spells cast at him."
"He should still be able to use floo powder, for instance," Minerva said, nodding. "But no one should be able to try and transform him against his will, or try to injure him."
"If you are correct about the spell," Teal'c said.
"Yes."
"Then you really need to try this spell out," Jack said.
"You're not listening," Lupin told him from across the table. "The only way to try it out is to try to harm you – magically. We're all more than capable of doing magic that could kill you, Jack, and if the protection spell isn't what we think it is, then we very well could kill you."
"It's worth the risk."
"No it isn't," Harry said, firmly. He was well aware that the risk was to protect him, and he refused to let Jack get hurt over him. Harry had already lost Dumbledore, he didn't want to lose anyone else.
Jack scowled, and turned to Sirius.
"Throw a spell at me, Sirius. Something nasty."
The dark-haired wizard hesitated, but Jack's expression plainly gave no room for vacillation. Even more, Sirius agreed with Jack, and knew that if the situation were reversed, he'd be willing to take the risk, too, in order to protect Harry.
"Stand up," he said, getting to his feet as well.
"Jack…"
"It's okay, Harry," O'Neill answered, standing up and moving well away from Sam – just in case there was a ricochet or something. "Do it, Sirius. Make sure it's bad enough that the spell will kick in if it's there…"
Sirius hesitated again, this time because he wasn't completely certain which spell to use – and how much force he wanted to use behind it. He liked Jack after all, and definitely didn't want kill him if the spell didn't work. So he needed a spell that wouldn't permanently damage him, and that could quickly be reversed if things went wrong.
Finally, he pulled his wand and pointed it at Jack, who couldn't help the urge to reach for a gun he wasn't carrying – even though he'd told Sirius to try it. It was just his natural sense of self-preservation getting in the way.
"Engorio!"
