FicWad

Chapter 29 – Egypt

The Sphinx's Claw, the known watering hole for non-local magicals hidden down a back alley within the chaos of Cairo, was the only pub throughout Egypt to serve Dragon's Breath, Fiend Tonic, and Firewhiskey short of tourists finding a local alcohol enthusiast with foreign tastes to take pity on them and invite them around for a drink. The dive wasn't quite up to The Three Broomsticks or The Leaky Cauldron's standards of cleanliness, but had a mile on The Hogshead.

Harry sat in a shadowed corner booth at the back of the poorly lit pub, paying no mind to the heavy incense of shisha that hung visibly in the air or the hard and lumpy state of the bench he sat upon, instead intently observing out of the corner of his eye the red head at the far end of bar, who was surrounded by a diverse and rowdy group of drinking buddies. Bill Weasley, age 23 and advancing indecently fast in his chosen career of Curse Breaking, wasn't exactly a stranger to him, but wasn't exactly familiar to him either. He'd only truly gotten to know Bill in the other world after two years of war and the red head settling down with Fleur, which was more than enough time and change of circumstance to alter a man and his motives.

Harry sipped at his apfelschorle, as he contemplated how best to issue his proposition to this version of Bill, who he had concluded reminded him little of the other world's Bill, other than the man's enthusiasm for his work. This Bill was far more wild in nature, vain, and ambitious beyond Harry had ever known him to be.

With the way things had worked out, upon Harry's arrival in Egypt, it had taken him not but a few hours to track down Bill and his team's camp to 20 miles outside of the small village of Farafra. Yet, he had had no way to discretely gain access to the camp and the team's excavation sight, or Bill for that matter, when the red head and his team remained in camp and working, without drawing far more attention to himself than he liked. Tonight was the first time, since he had begun his reconnaissance two days ago, that the team of Curse Breakers had decided to take a few hours off and go out for the evening.

“Bull shit!”

Harry's eyes zeroed in on the Texan who was part of Bill's group and was sitting just to Bill's right. The man was fair haired beneath his cowboy hat and had a red kerchief tied around his neck, which Harry knew from his observations that the man liked to draw up over his mouth and nose when exposed to the elements out in the open desert.

“He ain't either,” the Texan said, casting a skeptical look in Harry's direction.

The barman, Saif, grinned, his hand unconsciously touching the left pocket of his work robes and giving it a pat, as if assuring himself that what was within his pocket was truly there and hadn't disappeared in the interim of him returning to the bar after delivering Harry a second apfelschorle. “Ask him, if no believe me,” he said simply with an Arabic accent and turned away from the group to take an order from a stocky, dark skinned man dressed in expensive business attire who had just entered the pub and had plopped himself down on a stool a little ways up the bar, looking very much like he could use a drink … or twenty.

Harry pretend not to notice the speculative looks he received from the Curse Breakers, as he took another sip of his apfelschorle and turned his attention to gazing with interest at the veiled waitress – no doubt the barman's daughter, as he saw nothing to indicate that she was married – who was serving a French couple sitting at a table not far away from him. He maintained his charade, following the waitress with his eyes –admiring the curve of her back, the sway of her hips, and touch of playfulness in her dark eyes – until the very moment that it became all to obvious that the Texan, Bill, and the only witch on Bill's team, a tall Amazon woman without an ounce of fat on her lean, muscular body, were approaching him. He regarded the Texan with a disdainful look, as the man stumble into the seat across from him without invitation to do so.

“Saif says you're a parselmouth,” the Texan blurted out bluntly, his words slurred ever so slightly with his intoxication, “and theshe two,” he indicated to Bill and the Amazon witch, “reckon he might be right.”

“Sorry about him,” Bill said quickly to Harry and dragged the Texan out of the booth with a look of his face that clearly told the Texan to shut up and stop being arse. He pushed his drunken coworker off onto the Amazon witch, who rolled her eyes and steadied the cowboy before he toppled them both. Upon turning back to Harry, Bill held out his hand. “Bill Weasley, Gringotts Curse Breaker. These are Ian Colton and Marpesia, my coworkers.”

“Izaak Wetzel. I don't understand. What is it that you want from me?”Harry asked in fluent German and with a perplexed look plastered upon his face, as he shook Bill's hand.

Bill pursed his lips, as the Texan groaned and Marpesia sighed. “You don't speak English?”

Harry just stared at Bill, as if the answer should be obvious.

“Right,” Bill said with a look of determination. “Do you speak French?” he asked, his French unsteady.

“Not well.” Harry shook his head, replying in French with a heavy German accent and matching Bill's unsteadiness with the language.

Bill frowned.

Harry pretended to think a minute, before smiling at Bill and Marpesia with a look that clear said that he had an idea. “Saif,”he called to the barman and waved him over, “can you translate for us?” he asked in broken, but recognizable Arabic, as the barman rounded the bar and approached them.

“It's alright, Saif.” Bill waved the barman off. His Arabic flowed with fluency. “I think we'll be able to understand each other just fine, actually.”

“You speak Arabic!” Harry declared with delight, as if nothing could please him more.

“I suppose I should have tried it first.” Bill grinned. “I thought you were just a traveler passing through, though, as most foreigners are in these parts.”

“I'm a student,” Harry said with enthusiasm and gestured for Bill to sit with him with a measure of insistence. “I plan to travel all of the Nile, before moving on to travel throughout all of the Middle East. You mentioned Grigotts, but I did not understand. Do you work for the goblins?”

As Bill sat down, he took the moment to decipher Harry's halted Arabic.“I'm a Curse Breaker for Grigotts, as are Ian, Marpesia, and my team,” he said, once he had settled across from Harry, and indicated to where the rest of his team was watching their interaction from the bar.

“We'll just return to our drinks,” Marpesia said to Bill and began to steer Ian back towards the bar.

“They have a no clue what we're saying,” Bill explained in response to Harry's frown and questioning glance at Marpesia and Ian's retreating forms. “I'm the translator for the team, in this part of the world at least.”

“Does your team work here often?” Harry asked curiously and gestured to the room, as if to indicate the vast expanse that was Egypt beyond the pub that they sat conversing in.

“I've been stationed here since graduating from training.” Bill grimaced. “I made the mistake back then of making my self invaluable to the goblins by learning the local language.” He inclined head back towards his team. “Working in the same region for an extended period of time has its payoffs, though, so I shouldn't complain. Only twenty-three and I'm the Chief Curse Breaker here with my own hand picked team and three more teams working under my own,” he spoke with pride and a touch of bragging rights. “What about you? How long have you been in Cairo? You're Arabic isn't half bad.”

“I've been traveling for about a year,” Harry said with an easy air and sipped at his drink. “I left Germany, crossed through France, and made my way down through Spain into Morocco. I've been traveling the African coast ever since: Algeria, Tunisia, Libya ...” he nodded to Bill. “I've tried to find as may local people to talk to along the way, but you're not exactly a local. Where's home?”

“England.” Bill motioned for Saif to bring his Fiend Tonic over to the table from the fresh round of drinks that Ian had just bought for their team.

“Will you be attending the World Cup then?” Harry asked brightly and, like usual when one combined a Weasley, alcohol, and talk of Quidditch, Bill forgot all about his original reason for approaching Harry and initiated an animated conversation about the upcoming Quidditch World Cup that his homeland had the good fortune of hosting.

The hours passed seemingly outside of Bill's notice, as Harry kept him engaged in their conversation, moving on from Quidditch, once they had exhausted the topic for the time being, to discussing the rare magics that each of them had come across in their individual pursuits of unlocking the secrets of the ancients that had once ruled the region. Bill was just as passionate in discussing his work as ever. It was all too easy for Harry to slipped back into the role of Bill's protégé, as he listened to Bill speak about millennia old enchantments and mass warding schemes that hadn't ever been seen or heard of before his team had discovered them protecting the tombs they were attempting to excavate.

So engrossed in their conversation Bill was, he merely nodded with an absentminded air when Marpesia came over to tell him that the team was headed back to camp for the night. It wasn't until Saif began cashing out the till and the young waitress started turning up chairs on freshly bust tables that Bill looked around the nearly empty pub and realized just how late the hour had grown.

“Last call was thirty minutes ago,” Harry supplied his compatriot. Even as he spoke, the three Russians in a booth near the door, who were the only costumers remaining outside of Bill and himself, rose from their seats and made to take their leave.

The moment that the door shut behind the Russians, Saif motioned to his daughter and both cleared the room just as quickly, heading back into the kitchen and leaving Harry alone with Bill.

Bill furrowed his brow with his confusion, which was heightened by the copious amount of alcohol that he had consumed in the progression of the night.

“You're going to have to pardon me for deceiving you,” Harry said in his native tongue and accent and rose from his seat, drawing his wand from its place at his wrist. He cut his wand through the air in a practiced warding pattern that swiftly and efficiently locked down the room from all forms of spying and outside interference. “I prefer that my identity cannot be confirmed by anyone outside yourself.”

Bill – who had fumbled for his wand, upon Harry standing and taking out his own – finally retrieved his wand from the breast pocket of his vest and stood somewhat unsteadily, leveling his wand at Harry. “What is this? Who are you?”

“I am someone who can make you a very rich man, Williams Weasley.” Harry flicked his wand back into the holster at his wrist visibly and with purpose, while maintaining unwavering eye contact with Bill. “Someone who can ofter you and you're family protection in the coming war and deliver on said protection,” he said, as he reached into the breast pocket of his robes and retrieved two phials. “Here,” he offered the lavender concoction to Bill. “You're going to want to drink this. What I'm about to ask of you isn't something you should commit to while intoxicated.”

“Who are you?” Bill demanded a second time, ignoring the offered Sobering Solution.

Harry set the Sobering Solution on the table for Bill's later consumption with a sigh. “I was getting to that,” he said and uncapped the navy phial that remained in his possession. He downed the concoction in one swallow and shivered at the feeling of the potion taking effect. He doubled over a half-heartbeat later with a sharp intake of breath and gave himself over to the uncomfortable sensation of his bones shrinking, his back popping out of alignment only to realign itself to accommodate a smaller torso, and his skin and muscles pulling tight across and throughout his body in adjustment to the overall reduction of his size. Once the anti-dote to the aging potion that he had taken early in the evening had complete taken effect, he looked up at Bill's stunned expression and smirked. He pushed his dark bangs out of his face, running his hand through his hair, and righted himself. “I take it you've been getting the Prophet.”

Bill nodded, his eyes remaining wide and his jaw just noticeably slack.

“Good.” Harry drew his wand once more and shrank his clothes back down to their proper size. With returning his wand to his wrist, he resumed his seat and indicated that Bill ought to do the same. “We've much to talk about and little time. The matter is delicate and not without risks, I warn you now.”

A bit more composed than he had been a moment prior, Bill lowered himself into his seat.

“First things first,” Harry indicated to the Sobering Solution before Bill. “My deception goes only as far as maintaining my cover here. I don't want either of us to feel that I took advantage of your state and manipulated you into accepting my offer. For the work I need you to do, we must trust one another from the start, for there are certain things I cannot tell you and certain things you'll be able to discern about the project that I've no understanding of and will have to depend upon you and your judgment to see the project through. So, please …” He gestured a bit more insistently to the lavender potion.

“Alight,” Bill said, picking up the Sobering Solution and uncorking it. He down the concoction with a grimace. “You've my interest, my lord. What merits you traveling all the way to Egypt for a personal sit down with me? You do know Gringotts has plenty of Curse Breakers in country?”


“But none that I can trust.” Harry leveled a meaningful look at Bill. “Our families are not exactly close – it is true – but that will change soon, I suspect, and I've a certain respect for you Weasleys. You keep your word, nearly to a fault. Not to mention, your tenacity, courage, and infallible loyalty, once earned. There is also the fact that this deal between us, should you agree to my proposal, will be outside of the sphere of the goblins' influence and general interests. In fact, I'll be asking you to quit your current job and to come work directly for me. Naturally, I'll make the benefits for doings so well worth your while and ensure your future career prospects do not suffer in the least, if not assure that they prosper,” he added, upon noting Bill's scowl. “If you can manage what I require, when all is said and done, you'll will be famed among the circles you run in. I've no doubt.”

Bill narrowed his eyes with suspicion. “Anything that sounds too good to be true usually is.”

“I assure,” Harry said seriously, “what I promise you, you will have. I've no delusions about what I'm asking you to undertake. I would undertake the project myself and leave the world out of it, if I could, but I can't. I need someone familiar with permanent warding schemes and not just the everyday construct. The complexity of what I'm dealing with is beyond anything I've seen or read about, and I'm willing to put galleons on it being something you've not seen, as well.”

“I should say 'no' right now and walk away.”

“A smart man would,” Harry said with honesty. “But I don't suggest doing so. As I mentioned, there's a war coming. And I need what I need done, before all hell break lose. Thousand, if not millions of lives, could depend upon it. Your family's lives will depend upon it.”

“A war with who?” Bill demanded, looking uneasy. “Just what the hell is going on?”

“Voldemort. He's back, or as good as,” Harry said in a matter of fact manner, ignoring the way Bill flinched at hearing Voldemort's name. “The Order of the Phoenix is reforming and your parents will be recruited any day now, if they haven't been already. I imagine they'll be in contact with you soon and, if they don't recruit you and Charlie directly, some else from the Order will make the attempt.”

“You're lying,” Bill accused, denial written all over his face with a hint of fear that what Harry was saying might be true.

Harry cocked his head at Bill and considered the man. To push or not to push? This part of his plan he'd been undecided upon and even now wasn't sure of. Out of all the Weasleys, Bill's temperament was the most stable, yet when it came to threats to his family, he was downright unpredictable.

“I'll give you a week,” Harry said decisively, after a long drawn out moment, where Bill had stood his ground under his gaze, “to decide to pursue my offer further. If you still believe I'm lying by then, then that is that. No hard feelings. I'll look for someone else to do the job. If, however, you come to the conclusion that I'm being truthful and want to do something far more worth while in the war effort than intelligence gathering from behind a desk at Gringotts, meet me at the Three Broomsticks at noon and I'll give you all the information you need to make an informed decision as to whether you truly want to accept my offer or not. If I could give you longer, I would, but I really don't feel comfortable leaving things off for even an additional week.”

Harry stood and picked up his cloak off of the bench beside him. He pulled the dark gray cloak around his shoulders, fastened it at his neck, and drew up its hood. “Though this should go without saying, given the nature of our meeting,” he pinned Bill with a dark, warning look. “My presence here, my offer to you, and my status as your employer, should you accept my offer, ought to remain strictly between us. For both of our protection in the days to come, it is essential that we operate with the utmost discretion. I can not possibly stress this enough: no one can know that I've approached you.”

Bill nodded, seeming to grasp that no matter Harry's motives or the truth of his words, much was at stake for the young lord and possibly for him just with them meeting as they have.

“Goodnight, Bill.” Harry inclined his head in farewell, satisfied. “I hope to see you in a week.”

As Harry made for the exit, he heard Bill release a tense breath and down the remainder of the Fiend Tonic that he'd order just before last call. At the door of the pub, Harry paused just long enough to disassemble his wards. A few steps beyond the pub, he turned on the spot and dispparated with a pop! He was done in Egypt for the time being.

– – – – –

Lily paced the entrance hall of her family's cottage restlessly, all the while silently cursing her husband and son.

“He'll come,” Bethany assured her mother from where she stood in the doorway of the sitting room with an overnight bag slung on her shoulder. She'd been ready to floo to Castle Black for the past ten minutes, but hadn't been able to bring herself to leave her mother, who was clearly upset, alone with only an empty house for comfort.“He said he'd be here.”

“The number one thing to understand about men,” Lily said bitingly, “is that they make a lot of promises, few of which they will ever fulfill.”

Bethany bit her lip and shifted her weight to her other foot, not entirely certain how to respond or what else she could do or say to sooth her mother.

“You should go,” Lily told her with a heavy sigh and stopped in her pace to look at her daughter. “No matter where your father is, Sirius and Mayra will want to leave soon.”

“Unless Sirius is with Dad … again,” Bethany said, remembering waiting up with her mother until four in the morning the night before last all to clearly. Her father hadn't returned until the next afternoon and had simply said that he had been with Sirius, a story which Sirius had echoed to Mayra only that he had been with James.“We should floo Mayra and –”

“No,” Lily said with a sharp shake of her head. “I'm not going to be that wife. I'm not!” She took a deep, calming breath. “Listen, sweetie, we must trust your father, your brother, and your godfather, whatever it is that they may or may not be up to. James said that he'd be here and that he wasn't meeting Sirius today. We must trust that he will be and that he isn't.”

“But I though you said that the number one thing to understand about men is that they make promises they'll never fulfill.” Bethany frowned at her mother with confusion.

“They do. Oh, they do,” Lily said with conviction and a touch of anger. “Nonetheless, when you marry one of them, give birth to another, and name a third to be the godfather of your children, you can only trust them to do as they say and live with the disappointment when they don't.”

Before either Lily or Bethany could say anything more on the subject, the grandfather clock in the sitting room chimed, singling that it was ten o'clock.

Lily closed her eyes in defeat, while her daughter glanced back at the floo.

“Go,” Lily said without opening her eyes. If she hadn't bore witness to her husband's suffering when he crawled into their bed at night, she'd be inclined to rage at him until her throat was raw and she couldn't utter another syllable. As things were, she just wished he'd talk to her like he use to. And yet, she wasn't so certain that she truly wanted to know his secrets. Him, Harry, and Sirius, they were all keeping from her, from everyone, a horrible truth, one with Harry at the epicenter. She could see it in the way they interacted with one another, could feel it in her own interactions with Harry.

“I love you, Mum.” Bethany hugged her mother goodbye for a second time.

“I love you too, sweetie.” Lily wrapped her arms around her daughter and held her close just long enough to remember that she was officially late and the longer she kept Bethany, she was making Sirius and Mayra just as late as she was. “Go,” she instructed and pushed her daughter to towards the flew. She knew the forced smile on her face wasn't fooling either of them, but as she had said, she'd married the man, bore his heir, and agreed to name his best friend godfather of their children. He'll make all of this right in the end, she assured herself. He always does.

When the emerald flames of the floo died down and Lily was left officially alone in her once full and joyful home, she steeled herself for the night to come. With almost mechanical motions, she closed down the house, making sure no candles or oil lamps were left burning, ensuring that all the windows were properly shut and that the curtains were drawn. At the front door, she wrapped herself in her favorite emerald cloak and stepped out of the house, locking the door behind her. She walked to the end of path with a determined stride. Just inside the gate, she paused and took one last strength infusing breath.

“You are strong,” she reminded herself. The years had taken their toll on her, but no more. There was a light at the end of the hellish tunnel her family now faced. She'd seen it in her son's eyes just before he had left on Monday, after his brief meeting with Mr. Earnshaw. There had been fire in his emerald eyes that were so like hers, yet not – a fire that told of his willingness to rip the world asunder, before he allowed any form of harm to come to any of them. And as much as she wished to continue to see him as her little boy, she had known in that moment that their eyes had locked that his conviction was deadly. It scared her. It scared her to the depths of her soul, but it also comforted her and filled her with hope.

“Voldemort, you chose wrong all those years ago,” Lily murmured quietly to herself, knowing her words to be the truth. “He'll be your death and the rise of a new Britain. Lord help those who stand in his way,” she added softly.

With that, she apparated. She may sit in the Order meeting tonight without her husband or son at her side, but for them she would not let their absence show on her face or be questioned. They had their reasons for not being with her tonight, whatever those reasons may be.