"Fine," Jack said, shrugging. "Bring it here and I'll activate it."

The frustration on Voldemort's expression grew, although O'Neill could see he was trying to suppress it. Which was pretty much what Jack was intending. He might be Voldemort's prisoner – and it wasn't the first time he'd been captured by an enemy – but he wasn't going to make this easy for the guy.

"I can't bring it here," Voldemort said – for about the tenth time. "It's protected. We have to go to it."

"Well, since I left my broomstick in my other coat, that's going to be a problem."

Voldemort shook his head.

"A way has been arranged."

"Yeah? Don't tell me… Floo powder?"

Again the Dark Lord shook his head.

"That's not an option I can take advantage of, Jack," he said. "And it would present you with a far too tempting opportunity to simply transport yourself to a different location."

Bah. That was something that Jack hadn't considered, but that he would have thought of eventually – in time to use it as a way to escape, anyways. Voldemort wasn't as dumb as Jack hoped.

He didn't respond, and Voldemort gave him a smug smile before putting the now silent sphere back in its place on the shelf.

"Come, Jack. The night grows short and there is much yet to do…"

Jack hesitated, debating whether it was worth the effort to make a fuss about going anywhere with the guy. However, since he was still working on the premise that he'd have a better chance of escaping if he wasn't in the building they were in – wherever that was – he shrugged, and headed to the door.

Surprised by his sudden acquiesce, Voldemort followed quickly, taking the lead when they entered the hall.

Peter Pettigrew met them at the end of it, bowing so low he was practically cut in half – which wasn't all that appealing considering how short and chunky the guy already was.

"Is all in readiness?" Voldemort asked.

"Yes, Master."

"We'll return shortly."

"Yes, Master."

"Don't get into any trouble, Wormtail…" Voldemort warned.

"No, Master."

Jack scowled at the simpering rat-like man, wondering why on earth anyone would work for someone who was such an ass. Even rat-boy had to have better options in the wizard world than Voldemort. He could turn into a rat, after all. That had to be worth something.

"Come."

Now Jack's scowl turned to Voldemort, and he did stop, his arms crossing over his chest.

"I'm not your servant."

"What?"

"I don't 'come' or 'heel' or do any other parlor tricks. You want me to follow you? Say, 'hey, we're going this way', or something like that, or you can go to hell now."

Again the calm façade started to crumble, and Wormtail looked like he was going to have a heart attack there on the spot. Voldemort managed to control his temper – something Jack rarely managed so well – and he gave a slightly mocking bow, gesturing toward the door he'd been heading toward.

"This way, Jack, if you please…"

"Fine."

OOOOOOOOOO

He was led outside. It was still plenty dark out, with no sign of any daylight peeking over the horizon – which would have at least given Jack an idea of what direction was what – even though he didn't have a clue where he was. He'd been inside some kind of country manor house; Voldemort's little hideaway looked a lot more like some country getaway than any safehouse Jack had ever seen. There were a few trees off to the side, their branches darkly outlined in the faint light of the twinkling stars, and this was the direction Voldemort led him.

"Stay close to me, Jack," Voldemort said. "The dementors are patrolling the area, and I wouldn't want-"

"The what?"

"Dementors. Just trust me on this one. You don't want to be anywhere near one."

"Yeah, well that describes everyone I've seen since I've opened my eyes."

Ignoring the jibe, Voldemort continued to lead Jack towards the small wooded area, which turned out to be a faintly lit paddock of some kind. Inside the paddock, were two… creatures… being held in check by a couple of large, cloaked figures.

"What the hell are those?"

"Thestrals," Voldemort answered. "I'm not surprised you can see them, really. They're-"

"Why wouldn't I be able to? They're right there, and the light isn't that-"

"Only certain people can see Thestrals, Jack. People who have witnessed death up close."

The Thestrals looked up as Jack and Voldemort approached. They were horse-like creatures, that looked like what Jack might expect a zombie horse to look like from a movie. Thin, bony and almost spectral, they didn't seem to be evil, exactly, they just were… odd. And something Jack wanted to stay away from.

"Thestrals are very easy to ride. Just mount behind the wings."

Oh yeah. Just mount behind the wings…

Jack scowled, looking at Voldemort.

"After you…"

The Dark Lord had ridden Thestrals many times, and it showed. He mounted smoothly, even wearing robes, and Jack reluctantly walked over to the one that was watching him, expectantly.

"If it bites me I'm not going to be happy."

"They don't bite," the large cloaked man standing at the Threstral's head assured him in a rumbling voice that reminded Jack of Teal'c.

"We need to get moving, Jack," Voldemort said, obviously trying to keep the impatience out of his voice – and expression. "Time is short."

He could have kept dragging things on – and he probably would later – but there was a time to be difficult and a time to get away from all the big guys and whatever else was here in Voldemort's hideout, and this was one of those times. Besides, as much as he hated to admit it, Jack couldn't help but be a little curious what the prophecy said about him. There was always time to escape once he knew, right?

"How about a hand up, sport?" he asked the cloaked figure.

There was the slightest hesitation as the cowl turned towards Voldemort, but a moment later two hands were coming out of the sleeves to form a stirrup of sorts. Jack put his foot in it and mounted the Thestral gingerly. Then he sat there, trying to figure out where the heck to hang on.

A command from Voldemort started the Dark Lord's mount forward, and Jack's followed, prompting him to clamp his legs tightly around the bony beast's middle. It snorted, but didn't buck him off or anything, and an instant later the wings snapped out from where they'd been tightly pinned against its sides. The Thestral crouched, and then launched itself into the air, Jack biting back a curse as he grabbed hold of its neck to keep from being tossed off over its hind end.

Only moments later, they were flying.