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Author: Jonathan-Avery Story: Curse Breakers: The Maya Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-DH Status: WIP Reviews: 8 Words: 86,686
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I am merely telling a story in her world for the fun of it. AN: Thanks to my beta team, Velvet Mouse and Sovran who have reviewed this multiple times during the writing process just to make it better. They deserve a good portion of any accolades I receive. **-*-** The Cracked Wand was a crumbling adobe building buried in a neglected ghetto of Mexico City. Situated next to an old church and leaning against a burnt out apartment building, the faded white washed exterior was difficult to see even to those who knew it existed. A corrugated metal awning hung over a dark and empty doorway. A decrepit bum huddled under the awning and glanced up as Ginny, Harry, and Tonks approached the entrance. The man reeked of stale tequila and a sickly sweet stench that turned Ginny’s stomach. The man’s name was Jorge, and if he had a last name, Ginny had never heard it. He was a foul mouthed squib who was quick to draw a knife on those who were not supposed to be in the Cracked Wand. As they approached, he stumbled to his feet, glared at them, and barred the doorway with his arm. “What d’ya want?” he asked in a thick slur. “I’m here for the races,” Ginny said. She flipped a gold Galleon into Jorge’s hand. He lowered his hand, but turned his attention on Harry and Tonks. “Who’re they?” “Friends, and good paying ones,” Ginny answered. “Now move, I’ve got business with Caldwell.” Jorge scowled but slumped back against the wall. Ginny, Harry, and Tonks stepped through the doorway into a small room littered with empty bottles and trash. A solitary shelf hung on the far wall. “Pleasant fellow,” Harry muttered as he walked about the small room. “He’s a bitter, violent drunk, but at least you know where you stand with him,” Ginny said. “I can respect that, at least.” After moving to the back of the room, she knelt and rummaged through a pile of bottles and cans. “Whatcha doing there, Ginny?” Tonks asked. Ginny pulled a Firewhisky bottle out of the trash and held it up. “The key gets chucked about the room. You have to look for it.” Taking the bottle with her, Ginny stood up, walked to the shelf, and took a deep breath. The Cracked Wand harbored a cesspool of the worst sorts of the wizarding world. The people were no better than Death Eaters, and she hated facing it because she could do nothing to stop it. Gringotts was adamant that she not interfere with the local politics. “Ginny, is something wrong?” Tonks asked. “No, just… just promise me that no matter what, you’ll do what I do and follow my lead. Will you do that?” She turned and looked directly into Harry’s eyes. He nodded and Tonks did the same. “Thank you,” Ginny said. Ginny placed the bottle on the shelf and tapped it with her wand. The shelf and the wall behind it disappeared, and the bottle fell to the ground, bounced, and rolled into another pile of trash. A long, wide corridor yawned open behind the wall. Torches guttered every few feet. Their flickering light pooled on the wet ground and fought a losing battle against the dank darkness. Ginny walked into the corridor and motioned for Harry and Tonks to join her. After a few hundred feet, it opened up into a smoky bar with low ceilings. Tables were laid haphazardly about the floor. Dozens of witches and wizards huddled over their drinks, some in small groups, others alone. Around the outskirts of the room, the less savory clientele huddled in dim alcoves. In one, Ginny saw the pale face of a woman swaying from side to side, her eyes vacant and uncaring, and a hideous smile on her pale lips as a dark figure suckled at her neck. A shudder ran up her spine, and Ginny focused on the bar and the heavyset Mexican wizard behind it. As she walked across the bar, most of the occupants of the room glanced up. Almost all returned to their drinks, but some eyed her warily and her companions with outright distrust. Although she was not a regular, most knew Ginny by reputation more than anything else. It was not a reputation Ginny cultivated, but neither did she discourage it, as it was occasionally useful. She was the fire-haired witch who defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort with Harry Potter. It opened doors, and it kept her safe in places like the Cracked Wand. “Ginny, there is a vampire over there,” Harry whispered. “We need to do something.” “No we don’t,” Ginny said. “You promised to follow my lead.” “I’m not going to let someone get hurt, Ginny.” She heard the determination in his voice and his exasperation and disappointment with her. Harry was going to do something foolhardy. Like a striking snake, she spun around. Ginny grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him forward until his nose was brushing hers. “There’s nothing we can do,” Ginny said in a low hiss. “There are two dozen bottom feeders in here who haven’t messed with you because you walked in with me. I don’t like the clientele anymore than you, and I’d burn this place down if I could, Harry, but I can’t.” “Ginny.” She did not know if it was acquiescence or a protest, but Harry set his jaw and shook out of her grasp. They stared at each other for a moment before she marched over to the bar and the barkeep, who absently cleaned the bar as he eyed them all with suspicion. Ginny did not know the man’s name. She rarely spoke to him except to find her wayward curse breakers. “Yer amigo’s a hot head, senorita,” he said as Ginny bellied up to the bar. “We all have our vices,” Ginny said. “I’ll get him out of here if you tell me where Caldwell is.” “Senor Caldwell likes his privacy. And he’s not expecting anyone.” Ginny shrugged, pulled out a small bag of Galleons, and dropped it on the bar. She said, “He’ll want to see me. I’ve a proposal for him.” The fat man snatched up the purse and hefted it in his palm before pointing at one of the alcoves. “He’s in the arena. Just sit down and ask to place a wager on the troll.” With a grateful nod, Ginny led Tonks and an angry Harry over to the alcove. It was carved into the stone wall, and a stone bench with worn cushions encircled a dirty wooden table lit by a single candle. As she sat down, she noticed a betting slip under the candle. She glanced down at it and said, “I’d like to place a wager on the troll.” There was a click as the rear of the alcove swung open into a well apportioned hallway with thick carpeting and mahogany paneling. Candle-lit chandeliers hung from the soaring arched ceilings. A dull, muffled roar of noise ebbed and flowed like the surf through the building. The group slid along the bench and stepped into the hallway. Behind them a portrait of two trolls battling each other swung closed. Ginny started down the hall, but she was brought up short when Harry put a hand on her shoulder. “Why did you stop me?” “Harry, now is not the time,” Ginny said. “That woman needs help, and who knows how many other people in there need help. The place reeked of Dark magic. How can you just walk away from that? Do two dozen lushes scare you now? Because you went through as many Death Eaters to rescue a stranger once, and you’ve done more than that in the years I’ve known you.” “Bloody hell, Harry!” Ginny shook off his hand. Her eyes burned with tears, and she wanted to hex him and kiss him at the same time. The righteousness that fueled his horror and disgust at the situation ignited her own desire. He wanted to save everyone, and she loved him for it. But she knew he did not understand. “I’m not a diplomat. I’m a curator. I work for the goblins, and they are neutral in everything. I don’t have the Ministry or the ICW behind me.” “But I do, and so does Tonks,” Harry said. Anger and desire warred in his gaze and voice. “And when you leave? What happens then?” Harry opened his mouth to retort, but Ginny walked close to him and poked him in the chest. A roaring noise filled her ears, and she began to lay into him. “The Mexican Ministry is powerless! Mexico and Central America are run by the different family clans. They hold the power here! Not Aurors, or the ICW, or even some idiot in a suit with a bunch of laws. They are the law, Harry.” Her hands were fisted into his shirt, and she wondered when that had happened. His pupils were dilated, and she could feel his hot breath. “And if you go out there and kill their customers and their people, you get to walk away at the end of the day, but I’ll still be here! I’ll be their target, Harry. And then I’ll be dead.” “I-I didn’t know, Gin. You know I’d protect you, don’t you?” He was sincere. His hand covered hers, and she felt the chasm yawning beneath her. With a quick jerk of her arm, she spun away from him and sought refuge on the far side of the hallway. Now that she had put some distance between them, her breathing calmed and her heart rate slowed. “Ginny, I’m sorry. But, after the war, I needed something to focus on. And… and protecting people from the dark arts makes me feel useful. “ “I know, Harry,” Ginny said. “I’m sorry, too.” She was sorry for fighting with him, for egging him on, for loving him, and for knowing that he loved her and that there was nothing they could ever do about it. Silence dragged on for a few minutes. “So, this Caldwell bloke?” Tonks said. “Where can we find him?” “Just this way,” Ginny said as she turned back to Harry and Tonks. Harry stood where she had left him. His face was hard as granite, but his eyes glimmered. As she stared at him, Ginny remembered that he suffered just as she did, and she forgave him with a small smile that he returned. “He has a private box that he watches the games from.” Harry nodded and walked down the hall. Ginny followed after, and Tonks fell in step next to her. “He’s not sleeping well,” Tonks said. “Up all night muttering to himself like Sirius used to do.” “Make him sleep tonight, Tonks,” Ginny said. “He’ll need it for tomorrow.” “What about you? Anyone watching your back?” Tonks asked. “Yeah,” Ginny said. “Sarah, my assistant, will keep me in line. Don’t you worry.” Tonks nodded, and they walked in silence. The corridor disappeared ahead of them in a barely noticeable curve. They walked past dozens of doors, and house elves scurried about as the roar of the crowd from the other side of the doors followed them. After a few minutes, Ginny picked up her pace and moved in front of Harry. She stopped at an ornate door. A carving of two crossed wands over an ancient oak tree filled one of the door panels. “This is Caldwell’s box,” Ginny said. “He’s the youngest son of Edward Caldwell IV, but he doesn’t stand on formality all that much.” “You mean he’s one of the Caldwells?” Tonks asked. Her hair shifted from blonde to pink and then blue before she controlled her shock and her hair settled on a purplish black. “Who are the Caldwells?” Harry asked. “Blimey, Harry, they’re one of the Founding Families,” Tonks said. “Don’t you pay any attention at the ICW?” Ginny laughed. “Give him a break, Tonks. He grew up with Muggles, and Binns only covers history that involves goblin rebellions. Speaking of which, how do you know?” Tonks grinned. “Auror trainees have to spend six months in another country. I chose the Yanks and got a first hand look at the Twelve.” Harry looked confused, so Ginny explained as best she could. “The Founding Families are known as the Twelve. When Europe was colonizing America and the Ministry of Magic was just being formed, there was a big schism between several powerful half-blood wizarding families and the pure-blood aristocracy. The half-blood families were outnumbered, so several of them moved to America and set up their own government. “Over the initial century of colonization, six other families joined those first six until there were a dozen families from England, France, and Spain in America. They are the Founding Families, the Twelve, and they run wizarding society in North America, and to a lesser degree in Central and South America.” “So this Simon Caldwell is a member of one of these families?” Harry asked. Ginny nodded. “A younger son, but he’s still important.” “Why?” “Because even though America and Canada have their own magical governments, I doubt you’ll find anyone of importance in them that is not related in some way to the Founding Families. Until World War II, they were the government of the wizarding world on this side of the pond.” “So what is he doing here?” Harry asked. “From what I understand,” Ginny said, “he’s slated to take over his uncle’s position as the goblin liaison for the American Ministry. The goblins have been very interested in Central America since I got here, and Simon’s just making connections and cutting deals.” Ginny paused and then turned to the door. “It’s one of the reasons I know him.” “And if he’s that important, he’s supposed to help us?” Tonks asked. “Well, if we make it worth his while,” Ginny said and then knocked on the door. “And having me in his debt is worth his while.” “But I don’t want you…” Harry began but stopped abruptly as a jovial voice called out from the other side of the door. “Come in! Come in!” Ginny opened the door and stepped into a decadent room with thick carpets and comfortable, modern chairs spaced about. A fire crackled merrily in the hearth on the far side of the room near an ornate wooden bar with dozens of full liquor bottles displayed in the cabinets behind it. The front of the room was a massive glass window that looked out over a large arena three times the size of a quidditch pitch. From the door, Ginny could only see the stands on the other side. They were half full of wizards, witches, and magical semi-humans. The room was empty except for Simon Caldwell, who lounged indolently on a chair near the fire. He looked no more than twenty-five, but Ginny knew he was forty-two. His skin was well tanned from his years carousing in the Caribbean, and his dark hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail that hung to the middle of his back. He glanced up as they entered, and his bright blue eyes lit up as a smile spread across his face. “Oh ho, look what the cat dragged in,” Simon said. He jumped to his feet and bounded across the room in a few long strides. “And you’ve brought friends. Wonderful, I was just wondering what I was going to do this evening, and fate answers me with such lovely company.” Simon took Ginny’s hand and kissed it, lightly running his fingers across her palm. With a small smile, Ginny pulled her hand away and turned to Tonks and a scowling Harry. “Simon, this is Nymphadora Lupin. She’s an old friend of mine.” “Call me Tonks,” Tonks said with an absent wave of her hand. She was observing the room casually, but Ginny was certain that she was checking for listening charms or dark magic. Not that she would find any. Simon was a straight forward wizard, or at least he was whenever he dealt with Ginny. “Tonks?” Simon asked as he moved toward her. “You Brits are an odd bunch. Why’d you get rid of a pretty name like Nymphadora?” He took and kissed Tonk’s hand. “It’s almost as pretty as you, Nymphadora.” Tonks frowned at the man. “Call me that again, and you sprout boils,” Tonks said as she snatched her hand back. “Her temper’s worse than yours, Ginny,” Simon laughed and turned toward Harry. “So who’s the silent one here?” Simon held out his hand, and Harry took it. Harry’s eyes widened slightly as he shook Simon’s hand, and his scowl was replaced by a mischievous smile Ginny knew all too well. “Not some man trying to steal Ginny away from me, are you?” Ginny groaned. “Simon, don’t…” But to her surprise, Harry erupted into laughter. “Steal her? Did you just get knocked off a broom? I’d rather take my chances with a Hungarian Horntail then get her in a tiff.” Shocked beyond words, Ginny watched as Simon snorted and clapped Harry on the back. “Tell me about it. I’ve asked her out a dozen times, and she just says no if I’m lucky. Last time she hexed me until by own boogers attacked me. So what’s your name?” Simon asked as he led them over to the fireplace. Numbly Ginny sank into one of the chairs and glanced over at Tonks who shrugged, rolled her eyes, and mouthed, “Men.” Harry took the seat next to Ginny and across from Simon. “Harry Potter,” Harry said. “No shit?” Simon’s eyes flicked to the scar on Harry’s forehead and then narrowed as he glanced at his cheek. “Not much to look at, is he?” Ginny said. “Maybe, but that’s one hell of a glamour charm. I can barely see your scars.” Simon leaned back in his chair and studied them all for a bit. He was still smiling, but Ginny could see by the glint in his eye that he was mulling the situation over. “So, I’m assuming this is business, ‘cause as popular as I am, we don’t run in the same circles, Harry.” “Truthfully, I don’t know you either, but Ginny said I needed your help.” “My help? With what?” Ginny pulled a roll of parchment from her pocket and handed it to Simon. “You filed this report with Gringotts about five years ago.” He glanced at it and smiled fondly. “Ah, yes. This report got me dinner with you.” Startled, Ginny stared at him and then smiled softly. “I’d forgotten about that. I wanted to talk about the Maya, and you kept inviting me to some seaside estate.” “Well, I didn’t realize you were a proper Brit witch,” Simon said. He pulled a bell from his pocket and rang it three times. With a pop, chilled wine and cheese appeared on the table between them all. “I should’ve had my father ask yours for your hand in marriage, but we all make mistakes.” He poured four glasses of wine and handed one to Ginny. She accepted it with a nod before taking a sip. It was sweet and heady on her tongue, and the ice cold vintage sent a shiver of goosepimples across her skin. “Very nice,” Ginny said. Simon handed a glass to Harry. “It’s a family secret. Ice wine made with that magical touch.” He handed the last one to Tonks, who had avoided Simon’s gaze since she sat down. “Of course, I might divulge the secret to my wife.” He eyed Tonks critically for a moment. “Maybe my father could talk with yours? You’ve got spirit.” With a scowl, Tonks downed the wine in a gulp. “I’m a widow. I can talk for myself.” “Well, that makes it simple,” Simon said and then turned back to Ginny, while Tonks glared and Harry chuckled into his wine glass. “So what do you want to know about Dzibilchaltun? Only two other people from my expedition made it out alive, so I guess I’m the only expert who’ll talk about it. So is it the traps? Maybe the first chamber? Or do you want the gruesome tales of how the rest of the team perished?” “Those are all in your report,” Ginny said. “Facts and figures and diagrams. They’d be useful to hear in person, but that report was written five years ago, and I doubt you remember everything that is in there.” Simon’s smile slipped a bit, but he poured another glass of wine and calmly sipped it. “You don’t forget a tomb like that. What can I tell you?” “Nothing,” Ginny said. “We came for a different reason.” “I’m either going to like this or hate it, aren’t I?” Simon asked. “We’re going to Dzibilchaltun, and I want you on the team.” Simon watched her for a few moments, swirling the wine in his glass. With an abrupt shake of his head, Simon stood up, walked to the fireplace, and leaned against the mantle. “I went there as a joke,” he said in a soft voice. “My cousin William and Stephen, an old friend from Roanoke, were in Merida with me, and they had heard about the treasure.” “Simon, you don’t have to tell us this,” Ginny said. When she had spoken to him about it five years ago, he had been blasé about the entire episode, spending the dinner flirting with her rather than being serious. Of course, she had only wanted to talk in general about the Maya. This was a side she had not seen of him, and she was uncomfortable with it. “We can just…” “No,” Harry said, stopping Ginny short of withdrawing her request. “Let him talk. We invited him, Gin. Let him say his piece.” “Thanks,” Simon said. “I knew you’d understand.” He returned to his seat and downed his wine. “We were bored, young, and rich, and we were a bit too confident of our abilities. It’s a deadly combination. We hired a team and went hunting the next week. “I’ve been in a lot of tombs, and I was in Britain for the last year of the Second War, so I’ve seen my share of shit.” He paused and poured another glass. “I don’t know what the Maya hid down there, but it’s like the place tests you as you go.” “Tests you?” Tonks asked before Ginny could. “Like one of the Auror training mazes?” “You’re an Auror?” Simon asked. Ginny heard the interest in his voice, and Simon glanced at Tonks as if assessing her again. Tonks nodded in response, and Simon grinned. “Yeah, a bit like that. We ended up doubling back several times, and each time we returned to a room there was a different curse or blasted riddle that we had to figure out. That place is alive, Curator. It was almost hunting us. By the time we made it back out, Stephen and five others were dead, and my cousin was gibbering like a madman.” “You mention it in your report,” Ginny said, “but sometimes, it helps to hear someone talk about it. That expertise will be useful inside the ruins. So, will you help us?” For a few minutes Simon stared at them. Ginny watched his eyes play over each of their faces before returning to her. She could not read his expression, but since he did not refuse them outright, she assumed he had some interest. “Why’re you going?” he asked. “This isn’t some kind of treasure hunt is it?” “Simon, I’m not sure…” He shook his head, cutting Ginny off. “I’m not dumb, Ginny. When the Savior of the Wizarding World and two of his Companions walk into my suite asking me to lead them into a tomb, there is more than meets the eye. So level with me.” Ginny glanced at Harry, who nodded his head. “There are… answers, or an answer, in Dzibilchaltun. After the final battle, Harry and I were left with a lot of questions. Harry uncovered a lead that points right to Dzibilchaltun, and we can’t let the opportunity pass by.” After a moment, Ginny leaned forward and tapped the rolled parchment in Simon’s hands. “This isn’t about treasure or glory or anything else. It’s a personal matter, and I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t think I needed your help. Besides,” Ginny cocked her head to the side and give Simon a grin. “You’ve always said you wanted to crack a tomb with me. Well, here’s your chance.” A contemplative look settled over Simon’s features, and he sunk back in his chair. He faced each person one by one until he and Ginny locked gazes. A confident gleam filled his eyes, and Ginny knew he was seriously considering her offer. Finally, he nodded and held out his hand. “Sometimes, I really hate you, Ginny. You’re damn right I’d never give up a chance to work with you. I’ll do it, but on two conditions.” “And those are?” Harry asked. “I get a percentage of whatever we find,” Simon said, and then he looked over at Tonks who was paying more attention to the room than the people talking. “And I get a date with Nymphadora.” “Hey!” Tonks sputtered. “Hold on there! And the name is Tonks!” Harry, however, had already taken Simon’s hand. “You’ve got a deal. Right, Ginny?” Ginny nodded and then laughed as Tonks grabbed Harry, pulled him across the room, and threw up a privacy charm. Although she could not hear a word being said, Ginny winced as Tonks screamed at Harry and then hexed him. She was so caught up in the excitement that she jumped a bit as Simon sat on the arm of her chair. “They’re not dating, are they?” he asked. “No,” Ginny said. “They’re more like brother and sister.” She shifted position and glanced up at him. “You going to tell me the real reason you decided to join us?” “No, but I think you know.” Ginny nodded and then turned to watch Harry worm his way out of Tonks’ fury. “We all have to face our past sometime, don’t we?” Simon only clinked their glasses together and laughed. One down, Ginny thought. Wendal would be more than willing to go, and Bashir had been hinting at taking a crack at Dzibilchaltun since he arrived in the Yucatan. She just hoped she slept well tonight. She was going to need it tomorrow, but while she was here, at least she could have some fun. “So, Simon. Why don’t you show me how to bet on those thestral races? I’ve had a good year and can afford to lose some Galleons.” **-*-** Kinich Ahau was high in the sky. He had blessedly kept his face veiled behind the clouds to allow Chac’s bounty to soak into the dry earth. For days, the fields had lain plowed but barren as they waited for the first rains that would herald an abundant crop. Now her family was spread across the wet, churned earth planting the maize, squash, and roots that would sustain them through the coming year. She worked steadily behind her aunt, who was using a fire hardened stick to make regular holes in the furrow. She followed close behind as she had been given an honored job for one as young as she was. She carried the pouch that held the seeds. Into each hole she carefully placed a kernel of maize and then covered it with the wet earth. She sang quietly to herself as she worked, the dark earth fragrant and pliant in her hands. Around her the rest of the women of her family sang and worked as one, and the buzz of insects and the warbling calls of birds added a melodic undercurrent, settling her mind into a half daze as she worked. Hand to pouch. Kernel to ground. Earth to cover. Hand to pouch. Over and over the cycle played out as she followed one row and then the next, always keeping time to the thunk and rasp of her aunt’s planting stick. As she stepped forward to plant the next seed, she bumped into her aunt. Bewildered, she scanned the field. The singing had ended, and everyone was staring curiously at the edge of the jungle where the crushed limestone sacbe that led to the city touched the fields. Grandmother stood at the edge of the field speaking with a priest flanked by two silent warriors. As she spoke, Grandmother’s hands wagged under the nose of the priest, but he shook his head and pointed into to the field, and as if he had cast a spear through her heart, she knew he was pointing at her. Grandmother nodded and walked out into the fields, leaving the men on the sacbe. Men were forbidden to enter the fields until the planting was done. Men took life, women brought it forth. Grandmother walked steadily toward her, and she slinked behind her aunt’s legs, trying to become as small as a mouse. Her aunt had other ideas and brought her forth. Her aunt’s hands rested on her shoulders, the weight and warmth of the calloused palms reassuring. Grandmother stopped in front of her, her sun beaten face grim and set. “She has been chosen.” Her aunt’s hands left her shoulders. Confused, she looked up into her aunt’s face, but her aunt had turned away and was singing once more. The bag of seeds was taken from her hands and given to her younger cousin, and Grandmother dragged her across the field to the three men. Their jade, bone, and gold piercings glinted in Kinich Ahau’s light. The priest’s teeth were serrated and yellowed from years of rituals. His smile was like a jaguar, and his grip was like a constrictor on her thin arm. “You will be honored beyond all others,” he said, and then he dragged her away into the jungle as the singing of her family faded into the distance. “But I don’t want to be honored,” she said. The priest’s hand struck like a stinging bee. With a sharp crack, she was sent to her knees, and her face was numb and sore. She could taste the coppery trickle of blood on her tongue. “You will be honored above others, child. Only you can decide if that honor is earned willingly.” She whimpered as his clawed fingers dug into her flesh, and the priest dragged her like a maize doll down the sacbe. “Curator Weasley? Curator Weasley, please wake up.” Groaning, Ginny lifted her head from her desk. Sarah was standing over her, shaking her shoulder. The bright light hurt her eyes, and she blinked to get accustomed to it. Ginny leaned back and yawned, wincing as pain shot through her jaw. “That’s odd,” she said as she reached up and rubbed her jaw. “What’s odd, Curator?” Sarah asked. Ginny’s assistant stepped back from the desk. A smile tugged at Sarah’s ruby lips, but Ginny ignored her. The dream had been intense. Ginny swore that she could still smell the fresh turned dirt and feel the sun warming her skin. Her arm ached from where the priest had grabbed the girl, and her jaw was sore from the slap. “How long have I been asleep?” “Only an hour, Curator.” Amusement suffused Sarah’s voice, and Ginny glanced up at her assistant who was trying hard not to laugh. “What?” “You have a bit of dirt on your face, Curator.” With a frown, Ginny conjured a mirror on her desk and looked into it. A smear of dark, damp earth marred the cheek she had just rubbed. Shocked, Ginny glanced at her hands and found them caked with dirt, as if she had been digging in her mother’s garden all morning. Ginny shook her head. “Only an hour? Are you sure?” “Yes, Curator,” Sarah said, her tone very professional. Ginny realized she must have spoken abruptly, but she was so confused. “I left to get that report on Becan for you, and when I returned, you were asleep.” After sinking back into her chair, she cast a cleansing charm on her hands and then conjured a wet towel to clean her face. “Did I leave at all in the last hour?” “No,” Sarah said. “You were sleeping.” “Was anyone else here?” Ginny asked. “Have you seen anyone else in the temple in the last hour?” “No.” Sarah shook her head. “Are you okay, Curator? You’ve been working yourself very hard. You were here late last night and early this morning.” Ginny nodded. She needed to be alone for a moment, just to think. “I’m fine, Sarah. Just disoriented from my nap.” Sarah nodded, moved over to Ginny’s desk, and conjured a cup of coffee. “Here.” She held out the cup to Ginny. “Thanks,” Ginny said and took the cup. “So, did you wake me for a reason? Or was this just about coffee?” “Oh, yes,” Sarah said. “Wendal’s waiting in the conference room.” “Thanks. Tell him I’ll be there in a few minutes. I need to put this stuff away.” Ginny waved at the scattered parchment on her desk. “As you wish, Curator.” Sarah turned and walked to the door before stopping and turning back to face Ginny. Ginny watched her fidget for a moment before she took pity on the young woman. “Is there something else, Sarah?” “Curator…” she paused and then closed the door softly. “Ginny, I-I know it’s not proper. The goblins tell me often enough, but you’ve always looked out for me, and, well… something’s bothering you. You’ve been different these past months, and I… well I just want you to know that I don’t report everything to the goblins. So… if… well if you need someone to talk to, I can listen and…” A lump formed in Ginny’s throat at the sudden display of loyalty. She walked around the desk and took Sarah’s hand. Sarah had been her assistant since Ginny had become curator. Sarah had been an awkward young witch, in the field for the first time, and Ginny had been trying to live up to the expectations of her new position. Despite the rules against it, they had found an easy companionship that Ginny was often thankful for. “That means a lot to me, Sarah, but there is nothing you can do. It’s just the stress, and the assignment from London isn’t helping. But thank you. I’ll keep your offer in mind when there is something to talk about. Okay?” “Right, then, Curator.” Sarah said with a small smile and opened the door and left Ginny’s office. After closing the door behind her assistant, Ginny leaned against it. With a shuddering breath, she reached up and opened the collar of her shirt and found what she had feared. The amulet was about her neck again. Ginny dropped the amulet and stalked over to her bookcases. With a wave of her wand, she levitated one of them out of the way. Behind the bookcase, there was an inset stone covered in runes. The stone hid a goblin safe that was keyed to Ginny’s magic. She touched her wand to the center rune, and the safe glowed with a green light. The center rune pulsed for a few moments in a complex pattern of short and long pulses. Ginny frowned. The safe had not been disturbed since she put the amulet in it. Worried and shocked, she absently returned the bookshelf to its proper position. With a biting expletive, she sank down on her haunches and buried her face in her hands. “Brilliant, Ginny. Just bloody effing brilliant.” She should have turned the amulet in to the goblins, but her pride had wanted to decipher its mystery herself. “I just don’t know when to stop,” she whispered to herself as she pulled the amulet over her head and dangled it in front of her. The carved stone swung in front of her as she gnawed on her lower lip in thought. Now that it was not around her neck, she could feel the gentle whisper of magic insisting that she put it back on. It was an alluring call that brought to mind comfort and understanding. A sense of home. The revealing charm had shown no magic on the item, and she did not recognize the seven pictograms carved around the white flower on the stone. Concentrating on the amulet itself, she let her vision become unfocused. The pull became insistent as she shut out the rest of the room, and it took all of her control to keep the amulet at arm’s length. Beneath its haunting allure, she found a pulse, like a heartbeat, thrumming underneath everything. It was like gurgling water in a stream or the sigh of wind through evergreen boughs. It was peaceful, but sad and incomplete. Ginny broke her concentration and sat down on the floor. The amulet felt alive or was alive. She was certain of that fact, but it left her with a conundrum. With the dirt on her hands, she felt like she had during her first year at Hogwarts, when she had awoken in a corridor covered in blood and chicken feathers. That time, she had been possessed through a diary containing a part of Lord Voldemort’s soul, but Sarah had informed her that she had never left her office. The diary had been a Horcrux, one of six that Voldemort had created to house portions of his soul. It was possible that the amulet could be a Horcrux, but if it were, then it was like none Ginny had ever encountered. Horcruxes were ancient dark magic, and Voldemort had only resurrected their use. Ginny had come across several of them during her time in Egypt. Each one was different and reacted differently to the detection spells that curse breakers used, but every Horcrux had one thing in common. Because such a foul deed was required to create them, when she had felt for the magic around each one of them, she had been violently sick with the sludge-like darkness, anger, and hate that filled them. Voldemort’s Diary, which Dobby had kept as a memorial of his freedom, had been tainted with that sense of evil even years after its destruction. The amulet in her hand was the opposite. It was innocent. No, she decided, innocent was not the correct word. There was a sorrow about the amulet that tugged at her heart. It was like the rabbit she had found as a small child, quivering in the garden and bleeding from a wound. She had wanted to protect and help and heal that rabbit because it was suffering. Just as she now wanted to protect the amulet. Some would call her naïve to trust a gut feeling on an object that had already been affecting her, but Ginny put great store in her instincts. More importantly, she had communed with the magic in the amulet. It was a trick Harry had shown her while she was patching him up at Abu Simbel. No matter what the spell or how well the magic was hidden, talented wizards could bring forth their own magic and feel the very essence of the magic in an item. Communing did not so much show what the object did, but revealed the intent behind the creation of the object. Although time consuming and sometimes inaccurate, Ginny had used the ability regularly in the Yucatan, and, during the war, it had opened the path to Voldemort’s defeat only a few days after Harry taught it to her. With a shower of sand and stone, Ginny came to rest on the floor of the chamber. Bill was already checking for wards or curses, but Ginny was certain he was wasting his time. Whatever was guarding this room was not a spell. After unraveling the spell concealing the entrance to this system of caves in the rear of the snake worshiper’s temple, the path to their current location had been a harrowing labyrinth of puzzles, riddles, and dark creatures, including a nundu that was still wandering the passageways above them. No, Voldemort had not wanted this place found, and Ginny was certain that he never expected anyone other than himself to ever reach this chamber. Still, she knew Tom, and he was paranoid and self-aggrandizing. There would be a test in this chamber, but she was uncertain what it could be, and that bothered her. She took a few steps, stopped next to her brother and activated half a dozen glow disks. With a quick flick of her wand, she levitated them about the chamber and gave a low whistle of appreciation. Three Norwegian Ridgebacks could have easily stretched out side by side in the cavern with their wings spread. The floor, walls, and ceiling flowed into each other as if molten rock had carved the chamber. At the far end of the cavern, barely visible in the dim light, was a single stalactite shaped like the head of some monstrous snake. Even in the blue glow of the disks, the rock was the brownish red of dried blood. The stone undulated in long, regular hillocks. It was rough and pitted like someone had cast a corrosion charm on the stone, but when she kicked it with her feet, it sliced into the soles of her dragonhide boots. Surprised, Ginny knelt down and touched the stone. It was warm under her hands and sent a shock up her arm. Puzzled, she tapped her wand against the stone and said, “Comperio.” The spell hit the rock, and it glowed brightly for a moment, spreading outwards until it dissipated at the edge of the spell’s effect. The entire room was imbued with a powerful magic. Ginny sat back on her haunches and chewed on her thumbnail as she watched Bill work his way through the Standard Progression. He would tire soon, and she would take over. Until then she could only wait and observe. The cavern was uncomfortably warm. Her shirt was clinging to her skin, and the stagnant, heavy air was oppressive. Gossepimples marched across her skin, leaving her uneasy. She slowly craned her head around and scanned the entire cavern. She had the oddest feeling of being watched or appraised. “Bill. Do you feel that?” “Feel what?” Bill asked. He paused in his spell work and glanced at her. “I feel like there’s a dragon standing behind us and we can’t see it.” “I don’t feel anything but…” Bill shrugged and slowly turned about the room. Where other curse breakers would have ignored her, Bill took her hunches seriously. After a few minutes, he shook his head. “Sorry, Squirt. Nothing. Can you figure it out?” Ginny chewed her lip for a moment, thinking about what Tom might have left in the cavern or how to unravel it. The amount of magic in the room could be from many spells and wards or just a few. What she needed to see was how the magic was constructed or even better yet the intent behind it, like Harry had… “Well, there’s something Harry mentioned to me.” “You’ve heard from Harry?” Bill asked, and Ginny cursed her inattention. “I got a letter from Hermione, and Harry had a note in it. He’s discovered something about magic and intent.” Ginny hated lying to Bill, but she had sworn not to reveal Harry’s presence in Abu Simbel to anyone. “Magic and intent?” Bill asked. He had ceased the Gringotts Standard Progression and was now focused on Ginny. Ginny nodded and closed her eyes, speaking out loud as she went through the exercises Harry had taught her. “Remember when you showed me how to seal my boots? And how the intent allowed you to seal boots versus doors?” “Yes.” “I mentioned that to Hermione.” It was true, she had sent Hermione a letter, but she had also discussed it with Harry. As she spoke, she cleared her mind and reached for her magic. “I guess that when any spell is cast, the intent of the caster is left behind in the magic. But more than that is there. If you reach out with your magic and sense the residual magic, you can almost read the mind of the caster.” “And you can determine what he was trying to do!” Bill said in amazement. “But isn’t that dangerous, Squirt?” Ginny could only nod. She had found her magic, and it was coursing through her veins, making rational speech difficult. Ginny pushed her magic outward and allowed the magic in the room to resonate with it. Harry had warned her that this was the most dangerous moment. Magic reacted to magic. A wand, as Harry had explained to her, was a buffer and an amplifier for a wizard. When she pushed her magic outward, she had to keep the magic of the room from overwhelming her and burning her out. By using her magic as a second skin, she kept the ambient magic away from her body. There was an audible groaning in the cavern as she touched the room’s magic. She gasped. “Ginny?” Her brother’s voice was distant and filled with worry. The cavern was not a cavern. It was a magical construct of enormous proportions. But, more than enormous, it was ancient, powerful, and restless. Curious, she allowed her magic to merge with the construct and felt the vast purpose behind the room. Those who had put it there had desired to hide a secret and the knowledge of that secret, but more importantly, the secret needed to be able to reveal itself to those worthy to seek it. They had created a sentient guardian. With the suddenness of the shifting slip face of a sand dune, the cavern pushed against her magic, seeking out the power she held within. She struggled against the pressure. Her heart was thudding in her chest, and she could feel her lungs straining to suck in air. Determined, she set her jaw, grasped her magic, and pulled it inwards until it was barely brushing the guardian. With the guardian muted, she felt a second imprint of magic. There was another rumble, and the floor beneath her shifted, tumbling Ginny to her side. The sharp rock cut through her jacket and bit into her flesh. “Ginny!” Ginny’s eyes snapped open to see her brother moving toward her as the heaving floor shifted and twisted. “Don’t. Touch. Me.” She had to growl each word as she kept her connection to her magic. She did not know what would happen if Bill touched her, but Harry had maintained that it would be deadly for both of them. The warning became unnecessary as the ground buckled and slammed Bill to the floor in an undignified heap. Ginny floundered as Bill fell, and she found herself facing the far end of the chamber. In horror and fascination, she watched as the snake-head stalactite moved and shifted. It descended toward the ground and then arched upward, leering open into the fanged mouth of a giant serpent. Magma-red eyes glowed within the moving rock visage as the guardian’s stone body uncoiled in undulating loops from the cave wall it had once been. The giant serpent wound its way toward Ginny and Bill. A tongue of rose quartz flickered out as the creature came within a stone’s throw of Ginny. Through her connection to the magic, she felt the predatory curiosity and hunger of the guardian. The jaw of the creature opened like a dark cavern to show man-sized fangs made of polished diamond filling a mouth large enough to swallow an abraxan whole. She shook in terror where she huddled on the ground. As she stared at the massive creature before her, she understood what Harry had endured when he had rescued her from the Chamber of Secrets. She swore to do more than thank him if she got out of this alive. Ginny spared a moment to glance towards her brother. She found him entranced by the massive creature. His face was pale with abject horror, and his lips moved in a soundless prayer. The fear was all consuming, and Ginny struggled against it. She focused on the magic of the guardian. She needed to understand how it acted in order to interact with it, but the second magical signature made the guardian’s muddled. Desperately, she focused on the second signature. It was malevolent and hateful, and it reminded her of Voldemort. Whatever he had done, it had bound the guardian and made it unable to reveal anything or to react to any stimulus. It could only kill intruders. “Bill!” she shouted, clambering to her feet and fighting to maintain her balance on the shifting coils beneath her. Bill ignored her, transfixed by the guardian. With a curse, she shouted his name again and sent a stinging hex at him. Bill flinched and then turned toward her. “Bill, Tom put a binding on that thing. We need to remove it or we’re dead.” He nodded shakily, stood up, and drew his wand. Ginny drew her wand as well. A binding was an enforced magical order. It was often used on animals and animated objects to override their natural instincts. It was an easy spell to remove, but it was almost impossible to detect. She had been lucky in finding it, but the size of the guardian required that she and Bill work together. “On the count of three, Bill?” Bill nodded, and they both began counting as the guardian’s head moved closer. “One, two, three. Abrumpis pactum.” A bluish green light erupted from their wands and struck the head of the guardian. A sickly yellow glow filled the room as their spell struck. In order to break a binding of this size, Ginny focused on her magic and flooded it through her wand. The sickly yellow began to fade, and then, with a soft pop, the room was bathed in blue-green light before returning to a shadowy darkness lit by the remaining glow disks. The guardian ceased its movement, and the floor beneath Ginny’s feet stilled. The magma-red eyes of the creature faded until they were glittering diamonds clear as crystal. Ginny still felt the coiled violence in the creature, but now there was more curiosity and patience within its purpose. Instinctively, she knelt and pressed her forehead against the jagged rock that made up its body. The chamber echoed with a grating hiss of sand and stone as the guardian spoke. Its voice echoed like thunder in the vaults of her mind, but she understood. Who comes before Set’s Guardian? A voice in the back of Ginny’s mind whispered words to her, and she repeated them out loud. “I have come in supplication to seek the secret that you hold.” Why do you seek the Sanctuary of Horus? Ginny smiled in triumph. She knew where Tom had gone. Now she just had to unravel the mysteries of Set’s Guardian before she could track him down. Grimly, she began to entreat with the ancient guardian, trying to find a way to be worthy of its secret. With a sigh, Ginny traced her thumb over the carvings on the amulet. She had a feeling that this amulet was like Set’s Guardian. The amulet was holding a secret that she needed to unlock, just as she had unlocked the path to the Sanctuary of Horus. The answer would not be found by studying the amulet. It had a purpose, and she simply needed to let it run its course. Despite her misgivings, Ginny slipped the amulet back around her neck and stood up. She went to her desk and collected the information she needed for her next meeting. As she rolled up the parchment with the copy of Tom’s diary, a symbol on the edge of the fresco caught her eye. Hurriedly, she spread the parchment out on her desk and pulled the amulet off her neck. She aligned the amulet carefully and laid it next to the parchment. At one of the broken edges of the tablet rubbing there was a portion of a circle. It was cracked in half, and a portion of a white flower glyph straddled the break. It was an exact match to the glyph on the amulet, and in the upper left corner above the flower glyph was one of the pictograms that she could not read. A chill ran through her body as she stared at the sketch and then the amulet. She scanned the parchment but found none of the other six pictograms on it. It was odd that only one of the pictograms was on this tablet, aligned perfectly with her amulet. Where were the others? There was no context around the matching pictogram, and Ginny doubted she would have been able to translate it even in context. Ginny had been privy to many odd coincidences in her life, but her gut told her that this was not one of them. For a few minutes she stared at the amulet and the glyph. With a rueful shake of her head, she donned the amulet and grabbed the rest of the parchment before heading out of her office to meet with her team. She would have to deal with the other mysteries later.
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