Author's Note: Harry and Jack aren't related in this, and Harry's not descended from Gryffindor (as far as I know) so he's not related to Voldemort, either (in my story, anyways – I don't know what Rowling has planned in the future, she never asks me)

I also noticed that in my beginning disclaimer I said I wasn't going to use the original characters from the book, but I've obviously changed my mind since then, eh?

OOOOOOOOOO

"So where does that leave us?" Sam asked, curiously. "We're going to end up looking over our shoulder every minute if we have to worry about Voldemort going after Colonel O'Neill."

"As already stated," Dumbledore said, "You have no reason to be concerned about Voldemort at your SGC or while you are working." His eyes were serious, and there was more than a hint of respect in them as he looked at the members of SG-1. "I daresay you have enough to worry about there without worrying about him as well."

Sam started to say something, but Dumbledore continued before she could.

"What we'd like to do, since we have him here, is to test Colonel O'Neill for magical abilities so we can-"

"I don't have any magical abilities," Jack snapped, tired of being spoken about like he wasn't there. Not to mention, he was still unhappy about all the sudden information being thrown at them. Jack preferred things to be nice and simple – as much as possible, anyways – and things had definitely gotten way out of hand since he woke up that morning.

"There's one way to find out for certain," Dumbledore said, standing up.

"Yeah?" Jack asked, with a trace of sarcasm. "How?"

The old man walked over to a shelf and pulled down a scrap of cloth. Which he handed to Jack, who realized it wasn't a rag like he'd originally thought – it was some kind of ragged hat.

"Is that the Sorting Hat?" Sam asked, looking at it.

"It is, indeed," Dumbledore said with a smile for her before turning to Jack, who was looking at the thing with a bit of distaste.

"What does it do?" Daniel asked.

"It sorts new students into their houses," Dumbledore said. He could easily tell which two among the group in front of him had read the books and which ones haven't, because Daniel and Jack were both looking confused, and Teal'c and Sam were both looking interested.

"The four houses here at the school," Sirius explained, noting Jack's confused look.

Like that explained anything.

"Just put it on, Colonel O'Neill," Dumbledore requested, sitting back down.

Jack scowled, and looked down at it.

"I'll pass, thank you."

"It won't hurt," Minerva assured him.

"It's pretty dirty," Daniel said, reaching out and touching the ratty cloth.

"It's very old," Dumbledore explained. "Please, Colonel O'Neill." He gestured at the hat once more, and Jack sighed, and put the thing on, unsure what to expect. It slipped down over his ears, covering his eyes, and he sighed.

The damned thing didn't even fit.

I'm not supposed to fit.

He made a soft noise of surprise at the voice he suddenly heard in his head, and reached up and pulled the hat off, staring at it.

"What happened?" Daniel asked, quickly, alarmed.

"I don't know… It-"

"Spoke in your mind," Dumbledore said.

Jack looked at him.

"Yeah."

"It's supposed to do that," he said, smiling. "Don't be alarmed." He gestured for O'Neill to put the hat back on, and Jack scowled. He didn't like voices in his head – that just wasn't normal, right? And he sighed.

"Fine…"

He put the hat back on, and once more it slipped down over his eyes.

"Are you there?"

Somehow he knew that the others wouldn't be able to hear him speaking – although he couldn't say how he knew it, or how it worked.

It's magic, Colonel O'Neill, that same voice said in his head. It held a touch of amusement, and a little awe as well.

"I don't believe in magic."

I know. I can see that in your mind. There aren't very many things that you do believe in, are there?

"No, not really."

But those you do believe in, you cling tightly to…

"Are you supposed to be psychoanalyzing me?" Jack asked it, impatiently. He didn't really like the thought of having anything so intimately in his mind.

The voice actually chuckled.

I'm just trying to get to know you better. I've waited a long time for this meeting, and you certainly don't disappoint. You're a remarkable man, Colonel O'Neill.

"But not magical."

No. You're not magical. But you are the great-great and many times great grandson of Godric Gryffindor – in case there was any doubt in your mind about that.

"I couldn't care less," Jack admitted.

I know.

Suddenly the two of them seemed to part from the close contact, and Jack knew that whatever he said now would be heard by everyone once more.

"He's not magical," the voice said – and this time it was outside of his head.

Jack took the hat off, and looked at it with a lot more interest than he had when he put it on. Suddenly the fact that it was ragged and old didn't seem to matter quite so much.

"I told you," he said, proving he wasn't above saying I told you so when the opportunity presented itself.