"Is it much farther?" Daniel asked, looking into the gloomy forest and then up at their guide.

Hagrid shook his head.

"I don't think so, Daniel. We're making good time."

Of course they were, Daniel thought grumpily. They were practically running to keep up with Hagrid's long strides.

They'd gone to Hagrid first, because Dumbledore had said that the gameskeeper knew more about the forest than anyone else – at least more than anyone who actually lived in it – and they would be well off to have him with them as a guide. Daniel was just as glad to have him, but equally glad to see the huge dog Fang with him, because as far as he was concerned, Fang was probably more dangerous than the crossbow in Hagrid's hand.

They hadn't needed to tell Hagrid about the shack (Which was good since they had promised not to tell anyone). He had heard rumors about a rundown building – had heard it from Aragog's children, he said. He just hadn't known it was anything important. There were a lot of run down buildings in the forest, after all – although this one was one of the few that the children hadn't been able to get into.

Daniel had asked who Aragog was, but Sam had simply smiled and shaken her head.

"You don't want to know, Daniel."

OOOOOOOOO

"Dobby, we have to go help them."

The house elf's ears flattened and his large eyes grew mournful.

"Professor Dumbledore has said Harry Potter is to stay here."

"But it's my fault Jack's in the mess he's in!" Harry said. "Our fault! We've got to help find him."

Dobby shook his head, sadly. He was well aware that he had a role in what was happening, but he knew that Harry Potter was his responsibility – at least at that moment he was, anyways.

"There is nothing we can do, Harry Potter."

"There is!" Harry snapped. "You can take me to Hogwarts, and we can-"

"Dobby will not disobey Dumbledore."

"But Dobby…"

The house elf shook his head.

"You must stay here, Harry Potter. You are safe here."

"Argggh!" Frustrated at the stubbornness of Dobby, and the helplessness that he was feeling, Harry flung himself down onto his bed. He couldn't fly there or he would. He wasn't positive he could even find Hogwarts, much less keep hidden from the Muggles long enough to look.

"Dobby is sorry, Harry Potter…" the elf said, looking truly contrite. "After what happened in the Ministry of-"

"Don't remind me of what happened!" Harry shouted. "I know what happened, okay? I know!"

Of course he knew. He'd been foolish and Sirius had paid for that with his life. Sirius was dead, and it was Harry's fault, and now Jack was in the hands of Voldemort, and that was Harry's fault, too. He had to do something. He had to!

Harry rolled out of his bed and landed on the floor, scrambled to his feet and went to the closet.

"What is Harry Potter doing?" Dobby asked as Harry pulled the door open.

"I'm going to go save Jack," Harry said, pulling his Firebolt out of the closet and reaching for the trunk that held his invisibility cloak.

"But-"

"I'm going, Dobby," Harry said, fiercely. "If you want to come, fine, but otherwise just stay out of the way – and don't go telling anyone."

The house elf was wringing his hands in worry and torn loyalties and if not for the fact that he was so angry with himself, Harry would have felt guilty for putting Dobby in such a position in the first place. As it was, however, he simply headed for the window, climbing out and dropping carefully down to land by the bushes.

He was already mounting his broom when Dobby suddenly appeared beside him. Harry looked down at him, and Dobby's ears flattened once more.

"Harry Potter will need help."

Harry nodded, relieved.

"Thanks, Dobby."

OOOOOOOO

"You know… you could just try standing in front of the door and saying open sesame…"

Voldemort scowled, looking over at Jack.

"What?"

Jack gave him an innocent look.

"Isn't that the magic words? Open Sesame? I saw it in a movie, once, I think… or maybe I read it in a book… or-"

"Shut up, Jack."

The innocent look faded immediately into an annoyed one. He'd been standing out here long enough. The forest was dark; even though the sun was up it didn't filter down through the trees and leaves all that well, and Jack was bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. And there was nothing more dangerous than a bored O'Neill.

"Just go through the front door, damn it."

"Be my guest," Voldemort snapped.

"Fine."

Jack headed for the door before Voldemort could stop him and grabbed the handle.

"Wait!"

He hadn't actually thought the foolish Muggle would do it, and he was so surprised by the idiotic move that he hadn't even had a chance to stop him. Voldemort turned his wand on Jack, intending to stun him or stop him somehow – he needed him alive, not hexed or jinxed – but before he could say anything, the door fell off the rusty hinges, landing with a muffled crash in the overgrown grass in the front of the shack.

And O'Neill was still standing. Unharmed.

"Get back!" Voldemort shouted, certain something would kill his idiotic Muggle half brother any moment – and before he had a chance to find out what the prophecy said. "Now!"

"Go to hell," Jack said, heartily tired of having orders shouted at him. Besides, there was something weird about the place. Something that actually seemed to be calling to him. Like the shack itself was welcoming him.

He took a step inside.