Seeing that he was no longer needed, Thor excused himself and left with the typical brilliant flash of light.
"Don't be gone too long," Dumbledore told the rest of them as everyone got to their feet and headed for the door.
They found themselves in a hallway – once they'd descended a very impressive stairwell – and Jack looked around, curious despite his intended nonchalance.
"Come on you guys," Sirius said, gesturing for the others to follow him. Not only did Teal'c, Daniel and Sam go with him, Arthur Weasley and the giant hairy guy went, too. As they vanished around a corner, Jack looked at Minerva curiously.
"Let's go to my office, Jack…"
"Sure."
As they walked, though, Jack couldn't help looking around a bit more, and he also couldn't stop himself from asking questions. The place was impressive, after all, and there were people moving in all the pictures they were passing.
"What's with all the pictures?"
"What do you mean?" She asked, looking at the one he was pointing at. One that showed a knight in some ancient looking armor who was waving and shouting at them – although they weren't close enough for Jack to hear what he was yelling.
"Are they videos?"
"What's a video?"
"Are they supposed to move?"
She smiled, understanding what he was asking.
"Yes. I realize it's not normal in your world for the people in the pictures to move, but here, it's quite common. It has to do with the developing – or with the kind of paint used if it's a painting."
"That's nuts..."
Her smile didn't fade since she knew he hadn't meant it as an insult, merely a way of vocalizing his interest.
"Many of the children here would be just as astonished by a picture that didn't have moving people in them."
"Really?"
"The ones from wizarding families don't always have contact with the Muggle world, I'm afraid."
"You get kids here from non magical families?"
She nodded, and opened a door for him, gesturing for him to precede her into the room.
Obviously an office, this room was dominated by a large desk and several portraits of what had to be witches and wizards – because some of them were changing themselves into other animals; horses, dogs, birds, goats, and there was even one guy in a bright purple cloak who seemed to be vanishing completely until Jack got close enough to realize that he'd been turning himself into a little lizard.
"We get several students from non magical families here every year, Jack," she told him as he sat down in a chair she pointed to, and then went to the other side of the desk and sat down as well – in a large, overstuffed chair that looked like it should be sitting in front of a TV, not in some office. "Which is part of the reason I wanted to talk to you. Biscuit?"
She offered him a tin of cookies, and Jack shook his head.
"Only with gravy, thanks."
With a wave of her wand, a pot of tea suddenly appeared on her desk, and Minerva poured herself a cup, and then pushed it close to O'Neill in case he wanted some.
"I don't know how to bring this up, Jack…" she said, stirring a cube of sugar into her tea and not looking at him for a moment.
"That bad, huh?"
She looked at him, now, and shrugged, and he couldn't read the expression in her eyes.
"When we first found out about you – several years ago – some of us were sent to check on you – to find out more about you, maybe learn what kind of man you were. To see if you were the kind of person that he who must not be named might find an ally in…"
"He who must not be named?" O'Neill repeated.
"I'm sorry. Lord Voldemort. Many wizards and witches do not speak his name – myself included most of the time. It's considered bad luck."
"Ah." Jack leaned back in the chair, and shook his head. "And were you one of those sent to look me up?"
Minerva nodded.
"I was, yes."
"And?"
"And we were impressed by what we saw. I was impressed by what I saw. A family man, with a wife and son, who was obviously trying very hard to be good at both being a father and a husband – and a man who was very proud of his son."
Jack felt an ache in his chest at the reminder of all he'd had – and had lost – and Minerva reached out and touched his hand, softly, her eyes filled with sorrow and sympathy.
"I know this is painful for you, Jack, but there's something you should know."
"What's that?"
He couldn't think of anything that was so important that she had to bring up such old, and dreadfully painful memories.
"You might not be magic, but your son Charlie most definitely was."
"What?"
"We saw it immediately – looking for the talent for witchcraft in young people is something that I can do very well – and when someone uses magic, even someone untrained, we can all feel it to varying degrees - something to do with the nature of the ability, I understand. When we went to check on you and saw your son, we all knew he had the potential to be a wizard – and we informed Professor Dumbledore. It was one of the reasons we were so certain that you, yourself, had to be magical as well – although it's quite common to find magical children coming from completely non-magical families, your family is far from non-magical, at least in bloodlines."
Her tea forgotten, Minerva shook her head.
"In a few years – when he was a little older – we had planned to send a letter to you and your wife, explaining to you that he had talent, and ask you to allow him to attend this very school to learn to use that talent."
Jack couldn't help the sting of tears in his eyes, and wondered why she was telling him this. It wasn't something he needed to know – and not really even something he believed.
"If you were watching then you know that…" he trailed off, unable to even say it, and Minerva once more put her hand on his.
"I was watching you – although I wish I had been watching that day! But you need to understand something, Jack. You've always blamed yourself for what happened to your son, and you've been wrong…"
"I left my gun out!"
Now the tears were falling, and Jack brushed them away, angry with himself as he always was when he thought of that dreadful day. It had been all his fault. Everything that had happened had been his fault.
"Charlie wanted it, Jack," Minerva said, softly. "Even if you hadn't left it out – even if you'd have locked it in a safe and buried it under a ton of rocks – he still could have gotten to it. Your son was an untrained wizard in the making, and he was already intelligent enough to understand that he had abilities that you didn't know about. He would have gotten hold of that gun that day no matter what you did to prevent it."
"You don't know that…" Jack said, shaking his head. "You-"
She stood up, and leaned over the desk, taking his chin in her hand and forcing him to look at her. Suddenly he didn't see just an old woman with a gleam of good humor in her eyes. He saw a witch. A woman who had as much force of personality as anyone he'd ever met – maybe more than anyone he'd ever met – and she was looking at him with a completely unwavering gaze that was filled with knowledge he'd never share in and a wisdom he'd never understand as long as he lived.
"I do know it, Jack. I know it. What happened wasn't your fault. It was simply an accident that no one could have seen coming – and that you never would have been able to prevent. A horrible loss, but not your doing."
He could see the truth in her eyes, in her expression. She had his chin in a grip that was far stronger than he ever would have believed her capable of, and Jack was forced to look her in the eyes far longer than he wanted to – but long enough for him to know that she was telling him the truth. With a strangled cry, he jerked his head away and buried it in his arms. And cried like a baby as Minerva came around the desk and put a hand on his shoulder, giving him what little comfort she could as he wept for the loss of his son once more.
