Author's Note: Sorry about the silence this weekend everyone. My brother and sister both chose this weekend to decide to move. My mother came into town for a visit and one of my dogs has been sick- and there's nothing worse than a lab with the trots, let me tell you! (ick)

OOOOOOOOOO

Despite Dobby's best efforts, Harry was sprawled on the floor of his room, reaching under the bed for his hidden stash of magical items when Dumbledore apparated in his bedroom. The sound of his arrival startled Harry, who sat up, cracking his head on the bottom of his bed before pulling himself out from under it. Still on the floor, he looked up, rubbing his head and startled again by who was there.

"Sir…"

"Going somewhere, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, calmly, coming over to stand by the bed. Dobby came over to stand beside him, but the house elf didn't say anything. Of course, his expressive little face was relieved, which told Dumbledore everything he needed to know.

"I…" Harry picked himself up off the floor, brushing his clothes off and trying to think of a good excuse. "I was worried, sir. Have you found Jack, yet?"

"Not yet, I'm afraid," Dumbledore said. "Actually, I was hoping that you might be able to-"

A loud pounding on the door interrupted him.

"What's going on in there, boy?"

Harry shot a look at Dumbledore.

"That's Uncle Vernon."

Dumbledore nodded.

"I recognize the voice."

The old wizard went to the door and opened it, revealing a very angry Vernon, who had just raised his hand to pound again. The big man froze at the sight of Dumbledore – he'd been expecting the American.

"Calm yourself, Mr. Dursley," Dumbledore said softly – almost amicably. "I have business with Harry, but will not be long."

Vernon hesitated, uncertain of this old man. He was used to being able to intimidate people, but the man in front of him exuded power – even to him – and he wasn't sure what to say to intimidate someone like that. His mouth opening and closing – reminding Harry of a landed fish – Vernon finally nodded, lowering his hand although he didn't unclench the fist he'd been pounding with.

"Yes… well… see that it doesn't." It wasn't the most intimidating thing to say, but it was really all he dared to say. "People are trying to sleep, and all this racket is keeping us up."

"I won't be long."

There wasn't much he could say after that, of course. And even less when Dumbledore shut the door in his face, and turned back to Harry.

"Now, Harry. As I was saying… I'm hoping that you can help us find Colonel O'Neill."

"Me?" Harry hadn't expected this, and couldn't see how he could help, but of course he was willing to help. This was all his fault, after all. "What can I do?"

"I need to know what Voldemort has in mind for Colonel O'Neill," Dumbledore said. "And I think you can help me with that."

OOOOOOOOOO

Jack scowled.

"Destiny?"

Voldemort nodded, and turned to head for the door.

"Come with me, Jack. I want to show you something."

Jack didn't move. He crossed his arms over his chest. There weren't a lot of people he had to take orders from – and Voldemort definitely wasn't one of them.

Voldemort turned when he reached the door, realizing that Jack wasn't with him. A look of annoyance flashed across his face, but only for a moment before he managed to squelch it. He was normally much better than that at hiding his feelings, but Jack just got under his skin, and that annoyed him as well.

"Come with me, I said."

"I heard you."

Voldemort scowled, but immediately knew that losing his temper wasn't going to help.

"Jack."

"Voldie…?"

"Don't call me that!"

"Sorry."

He didn't sound all that sorry, and Voldemort knew it. Once more he drew his temper under control – although it was harder to do every minute.

"If you want to know what's going on, you need to come with me."

Without looking back to see if he was following, Voldemort left the room. And a moment later Jack stood up and followed him. He did want to know what was going on, of course, but more importantly, he wanted to get the hell out of there, and there weren't any windows to jump through in this room.

He walked out of the room and into a small hallway, where Voldemort was waiting for him.

"Where are we?" Jack asked, annoyed by the slightly amused look on Voldemort's face.

"One of my favorite hiding places."

Jack made a show of looking around.

"I didn't know you could get a place this big to fit under a rock."

Voldemort scowled, but turned so Jack wouldn't see the annoyed look.

"Come with me."

He led Jack into another room, but this one looked more like a library than anything else – not something Jack was expecting. There were shelves of books against one far wall, and another set of shelves against the wall to Jack's right, which was filled with other things besides books – and Jack didn't recognize any of them. One shelf held jars filled with all sorts of things in some kind of liquid – he didn't even want to know what they were. Another shelf was lined with knickknacks. Things that looked like they belonged in Sam Carter's lab and not some deranged evil wizard's secret hideout.

Voldemort stopped at the shelves, but he reached for one of the other shelves. One that held several small glass spheres. Jack couldn't help himself.

"What's that?"

Hesitating just long enough to pick out one particular sphere, Voldemort took it down and turned to him.

"This is a prophecy," he said. "Well, no. It's a record of a prophecy. In this case, it's a prophecy about me, which is why I can use it."

"Why?"

"Because it concerns me. Only the people that the prophecy is about can access the recording of the prophecy."

"What happens if someone else touches it?"

"Nothing happens to them," Voldemort said. "But they can't make it work, and in some cases the record itself will protect its secrets from others. Which is where you'll come in later. You're going to get a prophecy for me so I can hear what it says."

"Why would I do that?"

Voldemort smiled, and held up the sphere in his hand.

"Let me show you."