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Author: Jonathan-Avery Story: Curse Breakers: The Maya Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-DH Status: WIP Reviews: 10 Words: 86,686
AN: Thanks to my beta team, Velvet Mouse and Sovran, who have suffered endlessly in my quest for perfection. Without them, this project would not be possible. **-*-** From the top of the hillock, Ginny watched Satterfield amble across his campsite to a simple wooden table covered in parchment. Satterfield’s charms specialist, Parkinson, hunkered over the table as Satterfield pointed at something. Parkinson shook his head and pointed at another parchment. Ginny figured they had been here for several days. The detritus of camp life littered the ground, and she wondered how they kept the park authorities away from the campsite. Whoever signed their permission to access the site had clout. “Is that Satterfield?” Wendal asked. Ginny nodded and glanced at Wendal as he stopped beside her. The rest of the team was ahead of them and continued to walk along the hillock toward the Western Temple Group and the beginning of Sacbe Dos, which terminated at the central complex. The team slowly left Ginny and Wendal behind. “It looks like they’ve been here a few days.” “How did he find out?” Wendal asked. “This isn’t a secret mission, Wendal. Any of my assistants could have mentioned it or even a member of the team.” Or he could have just picked it out of her head, but Ginny left that unsaid. “He could just be here for his own reasons,” Wendal said. Ginny almost dismissed the idea, but something in Wendal’s tone changed her mind. “What do you mean?” “Well, I’m not entirely sure, as I was still new to the team, but Satterfield had his pick of where he would go after the, ah, incident in Egypt, and he chose here. I asked Tyler about it once, and he said that there was a site near Merida that held some great treasure and the key to some sort of power. Satterfield wanted to break into it.” “This site does attract treasure hunters like Satterfield,” Ginny said. Still, while Satterfield’s men might dive head first into Dzibilchaltun, Satterfield was more reserved. Maybe he had come to the Yucatan with Dzibilchaltun as a long term goal, but he knew he would be here for two years or more. As much as she hated him, Ginny knew Satterfield was smart. He would insist on trying some other tombs first before tackling Dzibilchaltun unless he had an ace up his sleeve. “Are we going down there?” Wendal asked. “You are the Curator. You could just kick him off the site.” “I could,” Ginny said, “but I doubt he is here on a whim. He’ll have some sort of permission to be here.” There were several avenues open to curse breakers to get access to a site. Most worked through a curator, but anyone with connections could get the goblins to sign off on any expedition. No, Ginny would bide her time until she uncovered why Satterfield was here and how he had gotten permission. “Besides, storming into his camp and yelling at him will not solve anything. And if I do, well, there could be other complications.” Ginny glanced meaningfully up the road at Harry, who was speaking with Caldwell. “Does he know that Satterfield tried to kill you?” Ginny shrugged as she watched Satterfield and Parkinson argue. Parkinson gesticulated vehemently, pointed at the table, and then pointed in the direction of the Western Temple Group. Satterfield looked at the page and then nodded before he called out to one of the tents. Even though Ginny was a few hundred feet from the camp, she should have heard him, but only the buzz of insects and warbling songs of birds surrounded her. The wards on the camp probably contained a silent perimeter. “I don’t know, Wendal,” Ginny finally said. “Harry used legilimency on you, so he might, but he hasn’t mentioned it to me yet. Who’s that?” Aswad Hassan had emerged from one of the tents, and behind him was an older gentleman with snow white hair and skin that, even from a distance, looked like rough dragon hide. “I don’t know, but he looks familiar,” Wendal said. “I think Satterfield met with him in Egypt.” The older man walked over to the table and placed a smoky gray orb on it. He tapped it with his wand, and a shimmering image appeared above it. Ginny swore. “Whoever he is, we’re in trouble. He’s got a map orb, and I doubt it’s a map to find Atlantis.” Before Wendal could respond, Ginny grabbed his arm and dragged him along the hillock toward the team. It only took them a few moments to catch up. They fell into step with the rest, but when Wendal tried to ask her about Satterfield, she hissed at him to be quiet and instead followed the team toward their campsite just west of the shores of the Xlakah cenote. It was a kilometer-long hike from Satterfield’s campsite to the Plaza Central of Dzibilchaltun. However, a few hundred meters past Satterfield’s camp, the path cut through a low, crumbling stone wall. Ginny followed the team over the wall and stepped from the denser scrub and trees into a packed dirt courtyard. The courtyard spanned several hundred paces in length and breadth. The stone wall fenced the area in with only an opening along the east wall that led out to the Sacbe Dos, which led to the Plaza Central. A stele rose in the center of the courtyard, rising twice Ginny’s height before it tapered to a blunt, weathered end. Along the west wall, a ziggurat rose several dozen feet above the low wall. A square temple made of stone and wood perched atop it, and a distinctive pyramidal roof comb peaked above the tree line surrounding the courtyard. Most of the team moved through the courtyard without a glance, still discussing the site in low tones. Wendal hurried after them, but Adalay Diggory stood like a second stele near the stone wall, staring at the temple group. “You didn’t get out here earlier this week, did you?” Ginny asked as she stepped up beside the young curse breaker. “Curator Weasley,” Adalay said with a squeak of embarrassment and then looked around. “I’m not holding everyone up, am I?” Ginny shrugged. “We don’t have a set time schedule, Mr. Diggory, and this is a well preserved site. I’d be surprised if you didn’t take a look around.” Adalay grinned sheepishly. He had a dazzling, if awkward, smile. “That’s the Temple of Six-Sky-Lord, right?” He pointed at the ziggurat. “That is what the Maya called it, but generally we just call it the Western Temple,” Ginny said. “It’s an exact replica of the Eastern Temple, the Temple of Seven Dolls.” Ginny motioned toward the opening in the wall and the sacbe beyond it. Most of the team had moved onto the sacbe, but Harry and Tonks were chatting at the opening in the stone wall. They appeared innocent enough, but Harry regularly snuck glances at her and Adalay. Rolling her eyes, Ginny raised her hand in a rude gesture toward Harry. He winked in return and kept talking to Tonks. Ginny shook her head. “But this one is concealed with Muggle-repelling charms, right?” Adalay asked as he walked toward the temple. “The wall and the temple anchor them. Even if a Muggle walked in here, they would just find a dense forest with a few overgrown foundations.” Adalay circled the temple for a few minutes as Ginny followed a few steps behind. Occasionally, the young man crouched down and checked out a carving. Several times, he pulled out his wand and cast a revealing charm that brought the intricate net of charms protecting the temple to life in a brief burst of colored webs. Even if he was simply curious, Ginny was impressed with the methodical poise of Adalay’s work. “For something that has killed so many teams, it is deceptively simple, isn’t it?” Adalay asked. “I mean the entrance is hidden by a timed concealment spell. You don’t even have to break it. Just wait for the right time and it opens itself. Why would anyone assume a great treasure was here?” “Sixty years ago, no one had ever heard of a timed spell,” Ginny said. “The first team that tried to crack this tomb spent nearly six months trying to unravel that concealment spell. They were certain it hid some great treasure, so when it opened on the thirteenth of August, they rushed inside, and all of them died without realizing that it was not their spell that had caused the tomb to open.” Adalay stopped his inspection and looked back at Ginny. “Seriously?” “Oh yes. The only survivor said that they had tried a new spell to unlock the concealment, and it worked, so they quickly moved inside and then got lost. They never bothered to decipher any of the writing on the temple or the stele, or they would have realized that the temple was connected to a celestial event.” Adalay traced a few patterns on the stone in thoughtful silence. He glanced around the courtyard and then back to the temple before going over to one of the columns and tracing the hieroglyphs written there. “The rise and fall of Orion?” Adalay asked after a few moments of study. Ginny nodded and settled herself on one of the steps next to Adalay. “During certain years, on the nights of February Fifth and August Thirteenth, the constellation of Orion rises and falls in alignment with the Temple of Six-Sky-Lord.” Ginny traced a pattern in the sky with her finger. “As the constellation enters the night sky, these steps collapse into the temple and reveal a stairwell.” Ginny turned to Adalay. “I’ve never seen the phenomenon, but I understand the significance behind the event.” “Isn’t it significant enough that an astronomical configuration triggers a spell?” Ginny smiled a bit. “Maybe, but this charm is not meant to hide the temple from grave robbers. It was most likely part of a semiannual ritual. You know that three stones represent Xiabalba, right?” Adalay nodded. “Well, the three stars of Orion’s Belt represented those three stones in the Mayan astrology. So when they rose in alignment with the temple, they opened a path to the underworld and the knowledge that can be found in it.” “The treasure,” Adalay said. “The teams mistook knowledge for treasure. They thought it was a crypt, but it really isn’t?” “Most likely, this tomb leads to one of the more ancient mai,” Ginny said. Adalay mouthed the unfamiliar word in confusion. “You probably haven’t run across them yet, Mr. Diggory. Mai are wells of souls in Mayan mythology. The Maya believed that the souls of their ancestors remained in these special locations so that the living Maya could pray and seek guidance. If you read the writing around the temple, it is obvious that the Maya believed that Six-Sky-Lord was entombed here and that his knowledge was as well. The Maya would have considered that a great treasure.” “So the other teams chose this tomb for the wrong reasons,” Adalay said in conclusion. “This is a place to learn about the past?” “Possibly,” Ginny said. “But any knowledge the Maya would have gained from the underworld would not have come easily.” Ginny looked across the courtyard and saw Tonks dragging Harry down the sacbe. “We should catch up with them, Mr. Diggory.” Adalay nodded as he climbed to his feet and began walking across the courtyard, but he stopped a few dozen paces from her. “But if they were supposed to find guidance at this mai, why is the temple so deadly?” “That, Mr. Diggory, is why I’m wary of this temple, even without its past.” “Oh,” he said. He paused for a moment and then gave her a dazzling smile. “Thank you for your time, Curator.” Ginny clapped the young man on the shoulder, and he turned and hurried after the group as Ginny followed at a more sedate pace. As she crossed the courtyard in front of the Temple of Six-Sky-Lord, Ginny considered her words with Adalay. Everything she had said was true, but there was one other factor she had not mentioned. The site hummed with magical energy. She could feel it in every breath she took, and she shivered as she let the energy wash over her. The sound of drums filled her ears, and a low, chant-like rumbling thunder across the Yucatan plains set her body vibrating. For a moment, she could see thousands of Maya. They filled the courtyard. Hands pressed against her arms, and the crowd chanted their praise beneath a burning sun as she was brought before the priests for the first time. Disoriented, Ginny blinked and found the courtyard empty and her hand caressing the massive stele that dominated the center of the temple group. Adalay was already a hundred feet down the crushed limestone Sacbe Dos with the rest of the team, and Ginny hurried to catch up with them. As she caught up with the group, Harry glanced back at her. She could read the concern in his eyes, and she smiled bravely for him and winked. His face furrowed in confusion before he answered a question from Simon. Ginny sighed in relief. It was obvious that Harry suspected something was wrong with her, but Ginny hoped that she had changed enough in the last seven years that he misread the problem. However, if Harry was having as little difficulty reading her as she was him, then she might have to tell him about the amulet and the visions. She could only hope that the survey of the site and the anticipation of getting into the tomb would distract him. The team followed the path for the last half-kilometer. The uneven road pierced the site from west to east. Years of use and lack of upkeep had eroded the sacbe until it resembled an overgrown cattle track more than a Mayan ceremonial procession way. Low walls of stone and indistinct dwelling foundations dotted the sides of the sacbe for most of the journey. Soaring trees and choking brush from centuries of neglect inhabited the interiors of the ruins. To the south, rising like a forested mountain of stairs, the southern temple loomed above the tree line. Eventually, the weed-choked path opened up, and the trees thinned into solitary clumps as they entered the expansive courtyard of the Plaza Central. Magnificent Mayan ruins rose like uncovered skeletons from the hard packed soil. To the south, the Xlakah cenote lay nestled among thick clumps of breadnut trees, West India birch, and several flowering trees whose branches would be laden with blossoms at the start of rainy season in a few days. East of the cenote the massive Structure 44, a rising wall of stairs that stretched almost a hundred meters, dominated the courtyard. The structure had once been an ancient palace and gathering place, but now centuries of dirt and collapsed limestone inhabited its hallways. Further south was the Structure 46 group, where several low temples huddled among the spreading forest. From where Ginny stood, Sacbe Tres split off from their path, winding north toward the Muggle entrance to the site as well as the Muggle museum, which contained many artifacts recovered from the temples and the depths of the cenote. Across the Plaza Central, Sacbe Uno cut through the forest for almost a kilometer. At its end, she could see the Temple of the Seven Dolls shouldering above the ground like a solitary sentinel. The mid morning sun perched like a golden crown above the temple comb, and Ginny marveled at the ingenuity of the Maya. The Temple of the Seven Dolls aligned perfectly with the rising and setting sun during the equinoxes. Like Stonehenge, it was a ceremonial structure. The equinoxes marked the beginning and the end of the growing seasons, but more importantly, they marked the birth, death, and rebirth of the Maize God throughout the year. Many of the Mayan structures were astrological time keepers. Only a fortnight ago, thousands of Muggles had gathered to watch the sun rise between the columns of the Temple of the Seven Dolls. Then, as the sun rose above the temple, they all scattered like startled birds from a lake, filling buses and cars as they made their way to Chichen Itza to watch the fabled shadow serpent undulate down the steps of the pyramid at sunset. Few Maya would ever have seen both in their lifetimes. Their culture had been centered around smaller rural family units that tended the fields and hunted. Cities like Dzibilchaltun were for the priests, the warriors, and the gods. The people would only gather for important rites and ceremonies or to welcome the returning warriors with their sacrifices. Closing her eyes, Ginny tried to picture what the city had been like. On most days it would be sparsely populated, but during the festivals, throngs of Maya would fill the sacbe, and the city would pulse with energy and life and magic. The crowds of people swarmed about the tight knit group of warriors and priests like spawning fish. Thousands of voices rolled over her like the surf pounding the cliffs only a day’s walk from her village. Frightened, she pressed tighter against The Chosen of the Sun, relaxing when his large hand draped across her shoulder. She glanced upward and gave him what she hoped was a confident smile full of strength and courage, one that showed she was willing to take her honored place. He flicked his eyes downward and gave her a reassuring grimace before returning his attention to their procession. It was still dark, and there was a buzz about the people, like the first few moments before a thunderstorm let loose its fury. Her guards were her canoe parting the crowds and carrying her further forward as The Chosen of the Sun used a comforting hand to steer her. The terror of those initial days had receded to a general affection for the priest who had carried her northward. She felt safe in his presence and was not worried even when the people pressed too closely, constricting the guards about her before they set their feet and pushed the crowd back. Every time this happened, she heard the gasps of pain and the panicked shouts of the people. Finally, the canopy of the crowd parted, revealing the gleaming white road that ended at a small, squat temple. Thick walls surrounded the temple, and warriors stood in ranks along the top of the walls. The courtyard in front of the temple, however, was barren except for two priests dressed as the Hero Twins of legend. She watched the warriors warily as she entered the courtyard. Their faces were hidden behind painted designs, and heavy clubs covered with sharp shards of obsidian hung from their belts. Each carried a long, feather-encrusted spear which followed every step she made, and the walk across the courtyard stretched and lengthened until she felt as if she had walked the road from her home in the south several times over. Her heart pounded in her chest and her breath quickened as she reached the stele in the middle of the courtyard. Like corn husks, her guards were shed one by one, until only she and The Chosen of the Sun approached the Hero Twins. Thirteen paces from the Twins, she felt the pressure of her escort’s hand on her shoulder, and she collapsed to her knees. “Who comes to be purified by the light of Six Sky Lord?” Both of the Hero Twins spoke, but their voices twined together into the booming voice of a thunderous god, echoing against the stone walls. “The daughter of Six Sky Lord comes to receive her ancestor’s blessing,” The Chosen of the Sun said from behind her, his voice strong and sure, though less so than the Hero Twins’. “Then let her test begin,” the Hero Twins said. They stepped forward as if one mind controlled their four arms and four legs. With thirteen long paces, they stood beside her. Their hands lifted her, and her clothes fell away. She felt the terror and fear and shame fluttering in her stomach, but the hands on her arms were warm and melted her worries away as she was brought forward and into the temple. In the center of the temple, she was left standing, facing the east through the open pillars in front of her. The horizon burned with all the colors of the fire bird. It hurt her eyes, but it drew her, calling to her as the Hero Twins moved about her, chanting words she could not understand. But the rhythm pounded inside her veins, and soon there was nothing but the glowing horizon and her blood in her ears and a spreading tingle across her skin like the waking of numb limbs after a fitful night’s rest. Then the sun broke above the horizon, directly between the pillars. The brilliant light bathed her naked skin, and the tingle became a rushing torrent. It was sweet and hot and burned with the chill of ice. It hurt, and it left her knees weak and her stomach fluttering with an ache that was so much more than hunger. The power filled her and consumed her, and then the world was light, white and pure as clouds, and she heard the voices of thousands upon thousands blessing her, and then she was empty. The sun was above the horizon, and she was huddled on the cold stones, her body aching and burning and sated. Hands lifted her, and she found herself face to face with the Hero Twin, Hunahpu. “You are worthy,” he said, his voice soft, and then she knew no more. With a gasping breath, Ginny sat up and then clutched at her head as the world spun about her. She lay back down on the cold stone floor and took deep breaths as the dizziness and pain receded. When she opened her eyes, she blinked in confusion. She was sprawled out on the floor of a temple. The warm sun spilled in through the pillars in front of her. Behind her, a broad courtyard spread out around a solitary stele, and one of the sacbe ran down towards the Central Plaza. Several Muggles were wandering through the courtyard taking pictures of the temple and the stele. Glancing at her watch, she realized it was still early morning, so she had to be in the Temple of the Seven Dolls. But she did not remember walking to it. Her hand brushed against the Mayan amulet under her shirt. It had happened again. She could remember the vision, the fear and rapture. The very power of the ritual still lingered in her body, a delicious afterglow not much different than the aftermath of sex. It worried her that whomever the amulet belonged to could control her. That or the visions were so real that she simply acted them out. Either way, it was a loss of control. Ginny climbed to her feet and almost collapsed again. Her legs were unsteady, as if she had just run up and down every stairwell in Hogwarts. Carefully, she made her way around the temple interior. It was not large, no bigger than the Burrow. A slightly tapered rectangular column stood at each corner of the structure and supported the massive stone roof and comb. The columns were massive, and several men would need to extend their arms to encircle them. There were no obvious marks or distinctive signs that indicated that this temple served anything other than a ceremonial purpose. For a moment, Ginny considered opening herself to the flow of magic in the room, but the Muggle tourists were approaching the temple. She could not take a chance of them seeing any magical display. Rather, Ginny decided to return later with the team after she took a short rest. Carefully, she made her way out of the temple and walked back toward the cenote. It was a difficult walk. The sun was hot on her shoulders, and the spiking pain in her head had become a dull throbbing. When she arrived at the cenote, Wendal and Adalay were pounding in the final stakes to a large pavilion tent. Three smaller tents nestled beneath the shade of a grove of banana nut trees. Harry, Bashir, and Caldwell were arguing around a small table. Harry noticed her first. The moment she rounded the cenote, he turned and looked directly at her. Even from a distance, his gaze bored into her and caused her steps to falter. Harry’s worry and relief were palpable, but Ginny could also see the speculative look on his face and the questions that lurked behind his green eyes, waiting for the chance to ambush her. None of the others had seen her, so Ginny skirted the edge of the camp. She kept her gaze forward despite the uncomfortable itching at the base of her neck as Harry followed her every move. Once around the back of the tents, Ginny peeked into each of the three tents until she found her own. Ginny slipped inside the magically expanded tent. Although the tent was not much bigger than a bedroom, it was comfortable and well lit. Two cots were set a few feet apart, and Ginny’s kit was stashed under one. Tonks sat on the other cot setting several picture frames on a low table. As Ginny collapsed onto her cot, Tonks looked up and waved a cheery hello. “What’s up?” Tonks asked. “You look like someone got the better of you.” Ginny considered ignoring her tent mate, but she sighed and rolled over, wincing as the pain in her head reminded her of its presence. “I was exploring and got a bit distracted,” Ginny said, hoping to cut the conversation short. To her relief, Tonks nodded in acceptance and stood up to leave. Ginny rolled onto her back and closed her eyes. “If you need to talk, you know I’m here, right?” Ginny blinked her eyes open and saw Tonks silhouetted against the half-open tent flap. “I know you are,” Ginny said. “But I’m fine.” Tonks snorted. “That’s Harry’s line, and I don’t buy it from you anymore than him. None of your curse breakers can see it, but Harry and I do. You’re hiding something.” Ginny’s stomach sank and her throat tightened. “I…” “Don’t lie,” Tonks said. “If you want to keep mum about it, that’s your business. But don’t lie to me.” Ginny nodded, unable to speak through the warring guilt and relief. “I’ve… I’ve got a headache, okay? I’m just going to kip for an hour or so and then we can all meet in the main tent. Will you pass that on?” “You’re the boss,” Tonks said. Ginny turned away from Tonks to avoid her gaze and stared at the half dozen picture frames on the small table. They all held images of Tonks’ son Sirius. The boy was the spitting image of Remus when he refrained from using his inherited metamorphmagus powers to change himself. Even in the pictures, his hair cycled between styles and colors. He looked so happy, as did Tonks in the few pictures she was in. A thought occurred to Ginny and she turned to Tonks, but the former auror was already gone. The tent flap swayed in the wind, and Ginny was left alone with her thoughts in the dim tent. She tossed and turned and gnawed at Tonks’ words before falling into a fitful slumber, in which she dreamed of a tomb and an amulet and Tonks’ orphaned son while Satterfield’s laughter echoed in the back of her mind. **~*~** The short nap had invigorated Ginny, and she enthusiastically greeted her team as they took their seats around the main tent’s conference table. A large map of the site covered the table. A plethora of different colored, handwritten notes tattooed the parchment. The notes were the result of their last few days of discussions as well as the two short trips Bashir and Caldwell had made to the site several days ago. The low murmur of conversation filled the tent as the team talked over plans for the day, and Ginny cleared her throat, silencing the curse breakers. They all turned to her expectantly, and Ginny considered her plan of attack. She knew she had to talk to the team about Satterfield and his team, but until she could send an owl back to Sarah and find out why Satterfield was there, it would just open up a problem she had no solution for. Of course, she could not hide it from her team. They had all seen the tents of the other team, and Wendal would most likely bring it up eventually, but there were other matters to be dealt with first. She did not want to enter through the Temple of Six-Sky-Lord. Unfortunately, she needed to convince Bashir to take a chance at the Temple of Seven Dolls. “Before we get started,” Ginny said. “Is there anything new I should be aware of?” Diggory and Wendal shook their heads while the others remained silent but alert, except for Simon. The brash American had kicked back in his chair and propped his feet on the table as he twirled his wand and grinned at Tonks. Simon would never grow up, Ginny decided. Although she would not have complained if some of his cheerful demeanor had rubbed of on Harry and Bashir. Both of them had entered the tent scowling and were seated as far from each other as possible. She briefly wondered at their attitude but decided it was not her concern at the moment. “We have a lot to cover today, and my little jaunt this morning certainly didn’t help.” “Where’d you go?” Wendal asked. “We couldn’t find you for hours.” “I took a walk around the Temple of Seven Dolls.” “And,” Harry asked eagerly, “what did you find?” “Nothing, yet. I was just following a hunch,” Ginny said. Harry narrowed his eyes and nodded. “Is it really wise to be making decisions on hunches?” Bashir asked. “Seven Dolls is only mentioned in one expedition as a possible exit point. I think we should use the map orb and go in through the Western Temple Group.” “And be lost like the last dozen expeditions?” Harry asked. “The notes I have point to Seven Dolls as a direct access to the chamber.” “And the team who left those notes reached the chamber from the Western Group.” Bashir shook his head in frustration and glared at Harry, who glared back. Ginny was certain the fight had been going on all afternoon. “And they are the only ones who did,” Harry snapped back. “Even in his notes they said they were lucky.” “Harry’s right,” Caldwell said, leaning in. “I went in through the Western Group, and I only made it out because I got lucky. If he thinks he has a backdoor, then we should use it.” Bashir became thoughtful for a moment and then leaned forward to look over the map. “Where did you come out again, Caldwell?” “The cenote,” Ginny said absently as she absently traced a pattern on the map. Caldwell nodded and tapped a point on the map. “The south shore to be exact. I woke up underneath one of those purple flowering trees, and a local beauty was leaning over me with the most luscious, hazel eyes.” Simon winked broadly at Tonks, who smirked and leaned forward. Her skin took on the mocha hue of the local women, and her eyes became a deep hazel. “Like this, senor?” she asked in a throaty voice. Simon swallowed, and Tonks lifted her hand and trailed a finger down his cheek. Simon shivered and closed his eyes, and Ginny smirked as Tonks’ features aged. “Or was it some grandmum washing her knickers?” Tonks asked with a cackle. Simon opened his eyes and tipped over in his chair at the sight of the wizened crone that had replaced Tonks. With a curse, he landed on the floor and then scrambled to his feet as laughter filled the room. Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny even saw a ghost of a smile on Bashir’s face, and Harry grinned openly. With a rueful grin, Simon righted his chair and sank down into it. “Looks like yer gonna keep me on my toes.” He eyed Tonks from head to toe and grinned. “If you look that good in your dotage…” He waved his hand and grinned. Tonks averted her eyes and shifted back to her normal self, pink hair and all. From across the table, Ginny saw a bit of red tinting her cheeks. For a moment, Ginny tried to catch Tonks’ eyes, but could not. She shook her head and watched Simon’s jovial grin slip a bit but then return with a gentleness that surprised Ginny. “Alright,” Ginny said, “Enough flirting, we’ve got business, and I want to figure out a plan of action. We have three locations we need to check out. Are there any others?” “Ginny, my contract with Gringotts is only for access through the Seven Dolls,” Harry said. “I’m not wasting my time with these other locations.” “And procedure says that I check out all options before risking any curse breakers,” Ginny said. She gritted her teeth and wondered why he insisted on being so contrary. “I don’t have time for procedures. Tonks and I stopped at Seven Dolls before we even contacted you. I’m certain it is the entrance. I can feel it.” He ground his teeth in frustration and glared at her until a small headache began to form behind Ginny’s temple from keeping her occlumency shields in place. Across for her, Bashir bristled. Although he remained calm, a vein at his temple throbbed, and Ginny knew he was close to either hexing Harry or walking off the team. Ginny understood his frustration. After their conversation several days ago, Harry had backed off and been more than helpful. Since yesterday, however, he had taken every opportunity to increase the tension within the team. If she had not felt his eagerness to get into the tomb, she would have decided that he was set on dooming the entire mission. Still, she had taken responsibility, and she was not going to let anyone derail her efforts. Ginny wanted the tomb’s treasure as much as she desired Harry. After taking a calming breath, Ginny stood and leaned across the table and fixed each member of the team with scowl. “I am only going to say this once, and after that you’re off the team,” Ginny said. “I will listen to your concerns, and I will give you the chance to have your say, but when I make a decision, it’s final. Do you understand?” Everyone at the table nodded, however Harry remained defiant as she stared him down. “Procedures keep us alive, Harry. You know that as well as anyone. Hunches and feelings get people killed. I might agree with you that the Temple of the Seven Dolls is the most likely entrance, but we have no guarantee that we can even crack that entrance. We need options, just in case.” Harry’s jaw tightened and his eyes became like agate. His emotions whirled from impatience to anger and then back. Silently, Ginny pleaded with him to simply back down, hoping that he would see that they had to work together and not against each other. His features softened, and he sighed in resignation. “Alright.” With a relieved sigh, Ginny turned to Bashir and raised an eyebrow in a silent question. “Mr. Caldwell has a point,” Bashir said after a moment of thought. “If the Western Temple entrance is as dangerous as I’m being told, we need to check out all possibilities, including the south of the cenote as well as Seven Dolls.” “It might take several days to work through three locations, maybe weeks,” Ginny said. “I think we should split up and do this in groups. If we can avoid the Western Temple, I would be much happier.” It was not the temple that scared Ginny. She was certain she could unravel the mysteries it held, but Satterfield put a damper on her confidence. If she allowed her team to be in the same passageways with the man, she might as well drag them off to tickle a dragon. There was a murmur of assent around the table, but Adalay was frowning and fidgeting in his seat. He hesitated for a few moments and then said, “I’ve been thinking, Curator. About what you…” Silence reigned as the team turned to Adalay, and the young man blushed and sat gaping as if he were remembering how to breathe. “Do you want to add something, Mr. Diggory?” Ginny asked. Adalay nodded, but when he still remained silent, Ginny asked, “What did I do that you had a question about?” The query was the final prod, for Adalay quickly recovered his composure, although his blush remained a ruddy glow in the lamplight. “You said that the Western Temple was too dangerous because it was obviously a trap, but doesn’t that mean we should go there? You know, better the rampaging hippogriff in front of you than the basilisk in the bushes.” Ginny smiled. The boy would be a good curse breaker some day. “I said that I was wary of the tomb, but I do think it is a trap. However,” Ginny said, holding up her hand to forestall the next questions, “I have other reasons for avoiding that entrance.” “Such as?” Bashir asked. “There is a maze of passages under the tunnel, and we have a large team,” Ginny said. “Maybe if there were only three or four of us, I’d consider it, but seven is too many to keep track of. Also, I’ve seen Simon’s memories of the tomb. He left me several in my pensieve, and the passageways are barren and unmarked. Even the detection spells they cast were unremarkable. We’d be wandering blindly down there hoping we take the correct path.” “But we have the map orb,” Adalay said. “Map orbs can only show where they’ve been,” Wendal said before Ginny could respond. “Usually, that is not a problem, because all the passages connect. These don’t. Actually, these breaks are much like someone apparating with an active orb. Most likely the doorways teleport people to a new location.” “And not always to the same place, either,” Simon said suddenly. “What?” Ginny said. “When you opened the doors in that maze,” Caldwell said, “there was always another corridor in front of us, but whenever we tried to backtrack, we couldn’t find the doors.” “Yes, you mentioned that, Ginny said. “However,” Simon said, “several doorways transported one or two members of my team to other locations,” Simon said. “That or they died before they could go through. I really don’t know. We would all go through and one or two people would be missing and we could never find them.” “Why didn’t you tell me that?” Ginny asked. “You’ve been so focused on the Seven Dolls that I just figured it didn’t matter,” Simon said with a casual shrug. Next to him, Harry adopted a self satisfied smirk that sent Ginny’s blood boiling. While Ginny calmed down, Bashir shook his head. “How are we supposed to make informed decisions without proper information? Is there anything else you’ve kept to yourself?” Simon’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure I like your tone.” “And I don’t like surprises.” Scowling, Simon sank back into his chair. “I want to walk out of this alive, too, ya know.” “We all do,” Ginny said, making a decision. Although she wanted to find out why Satterfield was here before discussing it, her team had a right to know about their presence. She just hoped Harry would not take any drastic action. “Which is why you need to be aware of another problem.” “Well, it’s been easy so far, what’s one more problem?” Tonks said with a laugh. “I’m serious. There is another team here.” Harry nodded. “I saw their tents. Do you know who it is?” Ginny freed her wand from the holster she kept at the small of her back. She had to be prepared for Harry’s tendency to act rashly. “Yes, it’s Alfred Satterfield and his team.” Harry frowned. After a moment his eyes widened and then narrowed in anger. “He’s the one who attacked you.” Ginny blinked in surprise. She had thought Harry would speak, but instead Simon had broken the tense moment. “Ah, yes,” Ginny said, still looking at Harry. He mouthed ‘later,’ and Ginny felt a weight settle on her shoulders as she turned toward Simon. “How did you find out?” “Curse breakers gossip worse than teenage witches,” Simon said. “So what’re you gonna do about it? He’s obviously here to throw a wrench on your work.” “I’m not so sure,” Ginny said. “Why else would he be here?” “Treasure,” Wendal said. Simon rolled his eyes and shook his head, but Harry leaned forward. “Why treasure? I’ve heard of him, and he doesn’t let grudges go.” Wendal shrank under Harry’s heavy gaze. He sent a silent, pleading glance toward Ginny. She motioned for him to continue. “I, well, I think, that is, I know he came here to crack a specific tomb.” “But Dzibilchaltun?” Bashir asked. “I might not agree with his tactics, but Satterfield is cautious. He doesn’t have the knowledge to crack this tomb.” Ginny frowned as the voice in the back of her head gnawed over Bashir’s statement while Wendal related the story he had told Ginny earlier. The mood around the table sobered as Wendal told the team about Satterfield choosing to come to the Yucatan to crack a tomb near Merida and about the old man he and Ginny had seen showing Satterfield and Parkinson a map orb. “So who was the old man, and how’d he get a map orb?” Simon asked. “I don’t know,” Wendal said. “They met in Egypt a few times, but I was never let in on the team’s personal business.” “Did Satterfield start talking about the Yucatan before or after this wizard showed up?” Ginny asked. Wendal opened his mouth and then closed it as his brow furrowed in thought. “After,” he said. Ginny felt a chill settle in her bones, and she barely heard Wendal continue. “Satterfield was trying to determine where he wanted to go after Egypt when the old man showed up. I think Aswad Hassan knew him. Or at least, that is how Satterfield met him.” “I don’t think experience is a problem for Satterfield,” Ginny said as the last piece of the puzzle fell in place. “He has a guide, someone who has been there before.” “That’s impossible,” Simon said. “Why is it impossible?” Harry asked. “Only fifteen people have survived that death trap,” Simon said. “And besides a nutcase hag in New Hampshire, I’m the only one still alive.” He paused and looked at Ginny. “Or I thought I was.” “There is nothing we can do about it,” Bashir said. “Do you know which entrance they will use?” Ginny shook her head. “No, but they are camped right next to the Western Group. I need to send an owl to Sarah about this. I’d like to know how he got permission to be here.” “So, we’re in a race for the treasure then,” Wendal said. “Maybe we should reconsider the Western Temple.” Ginny sighed and massaged her temples. “No, he has a few days on us at least, and I do not want to follow him down there. He might be here for treasure, but I doubt he’d pass up an opportunity to get me out of the way.” “So what is our next step, Curator?” Bashir asked. The rest of the team leaned forward expectantly, and Ginny propped her chin on her hand as she traced the layout of Dzibilchaltun. “Bashir, you’ve had experience in flooded tombs. Take Simon and your apprentice and work on the cenote.” Ginny stared at the marked spot for the Temple of the Seven Dolls and then the Temple of Six-Sky-Lord. It took her a few moments to work out her dilemma. Although they were ignoring the Western Temple, she needed to have it checked out, and she needed to know when Satterfield entered the temple. She did not trust Harry to stay out of Satterfield’s way, and although it was an excuse, it kept her from focusing on her uncertain fear. Satterfield had won a few too many victories for her comfort. No, Wendal and Tonks would be a better team to watch and observe. That left the Temple of Seven Dolls to her and Harry. “Tonks,” Ginny said, “I want you to take Wendal and investigate the Western Temple. Keep an eye on Satterfield, and see if you can find any information among the ruins that will help us with the other sites.” “Are you sure?” Tonks asked. “I’ve never been great at ancient runes.” “Yes, but you are an auror and can hide yourself. I need you to keep an eye on Satterfield. Wendal is more than qualified to take apart the site.” “Harry?” “Yes, Gin?” Their eyes met, and Ginny shivered at the gratitude in them. “You and I will take care of Seven Dolls.” “Good,” Harry said, standing up. The rest of the team gathered their items and broke apart to discuss their assignments. “We always made a good team.” “Yeah,” Ginny said with a soft smile, “the best.” Harry returned her smile and made his way around the table toward the tent flap. Ginny gathered her notes and watched him go before she remembered what else she had to do. “Harry,” she said. He stopped and turned around. With the tent flap half open and his sharp features silhouetted against the harsh sunlight, he tugged at the long buried fantasies of her youth. Ginny felt a warm blush creep across her chest and cheeks, and she spent several moments caressing his body with her eyes. “Yes, Gin.” His voice remained calm, but a rough, hopeful pleasure intertwined with her name as he spoke. “I… I need…” The words caught in her throat as she tried to grasp her tattered weave of thoughts. She took a deep breath, and her jitters stilled. “I mean, can I borrow Hedwig? I need to send a note to Sarah.” “Sure. Meet me at my tent when you’re done,” he said and let the tent flap fall as he turned and left the tent. Ginny flinched away from the cold tone in Harry’s voice. A burning anger stirred within her. She hated that his presence could fluster her, and she wanted to scream at Harry and tell him that just because he had second thoughts did not mean every action she made was a change in her feelings. Grabbing her papers, Ginny shoved them into her bag. From across the room, she saw Tonks staring at her with a sad expression. Blushing in embarrassment, Ginny slowed her mad rush of packing and stood as soon as she was finished. She walked out of the main tent and then back to her own. Once inside, she grabbed ink, parchment, and quill and composed a short note to Sarah. Then she called softly for Hedwig, who appeared with a pop a moment later. The owl alighted on Ginny’s table, ruffled her feathers, and held out her leg without the usual nip of affection. “You know,” Ginny said, “it’s as much his fault as mine. I’m not trying to be difficult.” Hedwig deflated a little, hopped closer to Ginny, and nipped at her. Ginny scratched the snowy owl on her head and tied the letter to her outstretched leg. “I should be able to talk to Harry directly, but… just let him know that I forgive him, alright? I’m not mad, just frustrated, and I know he is, too.” Hedwig nipped at Ginny’s finger, preened her feathers, and launched into the air. With a soft pop, she was gone. Ginny remained seated for a time, lost in thought, but she soon began rummaging through her gear and pulling together a small kit. An hour later, she and Harry were walking down Sacbe Uno toward the Temple of the Seven Dolls. The rest of the team had split up as well after a quick meal. It was nearing nightfall, and most of the tourists had long since disappeared. They had been walking silently for several minutes. Harry was several yards in front of her. His shoulders were tense, and he plodded down the road like an overburdened ox focused solely on his next step. They had remained as silent as stones around each other since the meeting. He had been waiting outside his tent for her and then had taken off while she had jumbled together a hasty sandwich. Her sandwich had disappeared five minutes ago, and now she could only watch Harry’s steady progress. The Temple of Seven Dolls rose in front of them, a scant hundred meters away. Although she wanted to hurry forward and speak with him, even if it would only allay her doubts, Ginny refrained. Harry would talk to her when he worked out his own feelings. Despite how much it hurt, Ginny knew Harry’s intent was not malicious. He was just a brooder and had always been. It had taken him nearly a week to talk to her after she brought Bill along with them when they went to the Temple of Horus. Still, she mused, his apology had been worth the wait. Ginny cursed every god she could think of and then delved into creating her own as she stalked about her small tent. A week. He had not talked to her for a week, and if it went on another day, Voldemort would have one less problem. How did he expect her to keep this trip secret? If nothing else, she had to inform Bill where she was headed off to. She had not asked him to come. In fact she had forbidden Bill from reacquiring the protective brother habit. Unfortunately, she had been overruled. “Why can’t anything be simple?” she screamed. “Because I keep showing up?” Ginny screeched and spun. Harry stood in the doorway of her tent with a small desert flower in his hand and a hangdog expression. “I came to apolo…” A sharp crack echoed through the tent as Ginny slapped him. Harry blinked at her as the white imprint of her hand bloomed into a burning red. “Bloody hell!” Harry said. He reached up and rubbed his cheek. “You deserved that,” Ginny said, close to tears. She turned away from him and hugged her body, fighting the sadness and hurt that ate at her heart. She flinched as his hands draped across her shoulders, but she did not pull away. His hands warmed her like a thick down blanket, and she fought the urge to lean backwards into his embrace. “I did deserve that,” he said, his voice low. She shivered from his warm breath as each word caressed the exposed skin on her neck. “I let you down, and I'm sorry. I just…” “There’s no excuse, Harry,” she said. “I know, but you deserve an explanation, because I just didn’t know what to do.” Ginny sighed. “Go ahead.” “Will you turn around? It’s hard to talk to your back.” “It is, isn’t it?” His hands fell away, and for a sickening, fear-filled moment, Ginny thought she had gone too far, but she heard a chair scrape across the dirt and then creak as Harry sat down. “Alright, I get it. I’ve never been good at these things. I just… I don’t know how to make things like this work.” He sighed, and Ginny glanced out of the corner of her eye. His head was buried in his hands, and his unruly hair was tangled in his fingers. “What things?” Ginny asked. “Relationships, friends, people… I don’t know.” He lifted his head, and Ginny saw the dark circles under his blood-shot eyes. “I was mad. Mad that you told Bill. Mad that you went behind my back without talking to me. And… well, I was mad at myself. I was right pissed off because I do that to everyone, and I had no right to be mad at you.” Ginny turned to face him and took a tentative step toward him. “Harry, I…” He shook his head. “No. I never ask for anyone’s permission, I just go off to face my effing destiny, and be damned with how everyone feels.” A bitter smile stretched across his lips. “That’s why I couldn’t let you apologize. That’s why I shut you out, because I don’t deserve anything you have given me after everything I have taken from you.” “You can never take anything from me, Harry. I gave it all to you long ago.” “I realized that,” Harry said. “And I couldn’t figure out why you still cared for me, why you put up with me. I didn’t want to hurt you any more, but if it hurt so much for me, how did it feel for you? And then I realized what a fool I had been.” He reached out and grabbed her hand and pulled her. Ginny went willingly and dropped onto her knees in front of his chair. “I’ve wasted so much time, Ginny. And now I can only give you a few months.” “I don’t care.” “Even if I hurt you in the end? Even if I leave you alone and heartbroken?” Harry asked. “Even then.” “Good,” Harry said. “Because I love you, Ginny Weasley. I have for a long time.” “I know,” Ginny said and then kissed him. “I love you, too.” “Ginny, are you listening to me?” Ginny blinked and glanced at Harry. He was a few feet in front of her, leaning against the outer wall of the Temple of Seven Dolls. He had a worried expression on is face, and Ginny wondered how long he had been calling her name. “Sorry,” Ginny said. “I was lost in thought.” “Ah.” Harry said, and Ginny was thankful that he did not press the issue. “So, what is the first step?” “I want to set up a few long term monitoring charms on the site, so I need to keep the tourists out of here for the next couple days.” Harry shook his head. “This is a popular site, and everyone comes here to see the Temple of the Seven Dolls. They’ll be suspicious if they can’t find it.” Ginny dropped her knapsack to the ground and shrugged. She knelt in front of it and rummaged around inside for a moment before pulling out a half dozen shallow stone saucers. Intricate runes were carved into the stone. “That is why I brought these.” Ginny handed one to Harry. He took it, turned it over in his hand, and frowned. “It looks like a miniature pensieve.” “Technically, it is, but not nearly as complex,” Ginny said. “It’s a memory anchor.” “Never heard of it,” Harry said. “They’re Mayan,” Ginny said. “I ran across them about four years ago when I uncovered the hidden entrance to Tikal. They ward a place by modifying the memory of anyone who gets within a few feet of the perimeter defined by the anchors.” “How is that possible?” Harry asked as he traced the runes on the memory anchor. “Well, you place these anchors around a space. Then you place a memory in each one that shows what you want the interloper to see. When they get within a few feet of the wards, the memory is implanted, and they will think they have already looked around the area that is being warded.” “It sounds dangerous,” Harry said. “How do you control who it affects?” “Oh, there is a simple spell that protects people from the ward, but it will still keep Muggles away.” Ginny handed Harry three more of the stone saucers. “Can you go put one of these on each corner of the wall around the temple? I have to go set up these near the center.” Harry nodded and went to place the memory anchors. Ginny took the last two and walked into the center of the temple complex. She cast a few measurement spells and carefully arranged the last two anchors on the hard packed earth of the courtyard. When she saw Harry walking towards her, she carefully constructed the memory she desired and placed her wand to her temple. She pulled the thin silvery thought and placed it in the stone saucer. Then she tapped her wand to it, and the runes glowed briefly before the memory soaked into the stone itself. Standing up, she repeated the process with the other five anchors as Harry watched her. The western sky was a canvas of reds and gold when she finished the last bowl and returned to the center. She knelt before the two center bowls with her wand. Concentrating on the four memory anchors, she began weaving the wards together with the Mayan variant of the Rheinholt Progression, a series of spells that tied wards together and then fused them into a single ward. The process was time consuming and delicate. The sun slipped beneath the horizon as she tied the last ward to the center anchors. For a moment the temple complex was lit under a bright silvery glow, and then darkness fell again as the wards sealed and activated. Ginny blinked against the bright flash, trying to regain her night vision. She was exhausted. Her arms were heavy granite and sweat stained her clothes and plastered her hair to her cheek and neck. With a groan, she sank to the ground next to Harry. “That’s tougher than I thought it’d be.” “Haven’t you cast it before?” Harry asked. Ginny chuckled as she gave Harry a weak half smile. “I’ve cast it, but never on such a large area.” “I could’ve helped,” Harry said. “No,” Ginny said. Harry’s jaw tightened, and Ginny hurriedly added, “If we mixed our memories or magical signatures, it would ruin the ward. I had to do it by myself, but thanks for the offer.” Harry nodded, and they sat quietly for a time. Ginny closed her eyes and settled on the dirt with a contented sigh. “You know you can slap me if you want,” Harry said after a few minutes. Ginny cracked her eyes open and looked at him. Harry was laying a few feet from her, gazing at the blazing path of the Milky Way. He turned to face her, and she smiled and shook her head. “No,” she said after a moment of thought. “Then I’d have to apologize as well.” “Well, then I guess we’re just a pair of sorry gits,” Harry said and sat up with a groan. He climbed to his feet and brushed the dirt off of his clothes. “Yeah,” Ginny said. “I’m sorry, anyway,” Harry said. “I am trying my hardest.” “I know,” Ginny said. She wanted to remain on the dirt for the rest of the night, but she had other duties. She was too exhausted to cast the monitoring charms tonight, so she had no reason to stay. With a melodramatic groan, she began to climb to her feet. The ward had taken a lot more out her than she had thought. Harry offered her a hand, but Ginny shook her head. “Do you want to head back and get started early in the morning?” Harry asked. “Sure, but just give me a second.” She drew her wand and pointed it at Harry. “Ximim,” she said. Harry’s skin glowed silver for a moment. “What was that?” he asked, patting his arms and torso. “It tingled.” “It’s the Mayan spell that protects you from the memory ward,” Ginny said. “Ah,” Harry said. He motioned toward Sacbe Uno. “Are you ready?” “Sure,” Ginny said. She grabbed her knapsack and slung it over her shoulder. They walked out of the temple complex side by side, a few feet between them so that they did not accidentally touch. Although they did not speak as they walked, the bitter awkwardness from earlier was gone. Halfway back to the Plaza Central, Ginny heard voices and the crunch of gravel beneath boots over the chirping and buzzing of night insects. She held out her arm, but Harry had already stopped. His face was impassive, and Ginny could see his wand sticking out of the sleeve of his jacket. Ginny slipped her own wand into the sleeve of her shirt and moved a few more feet away from Harry. Voices reached them first. “I’m just interested in looking,” a low voice, thickly scarred by years of smoking said. “It looked like a ward spell.” “As long as we get back soon.” Ginny recognized the silky Arabic accent of Hassan. “We’re expecting the key tonight.” “You do not need to remind me, Hassan,” Satterfield’s voice responded. “I’m well aware of our timeline. However, I’d like to check this out. That traitor Wendal was skulking about the Western Temple earlier. And if he’s around, that useless girl of a curator is here.” “Curator?” the first voice asked. “The annoying little chit I told you about,” Satterfield said. They were much closer now, and Ginny could make out their dark shapes on the pale limestone road as well as the occasional red ember of a smoldering cigarette. “She’s whoring herself out to the Savior of the Wizarding World to go dig through that temple up there. Maybe she’s still there.” Satterfield paused and gestured with his hands, but the shadows obscured his meaning. “I still need to thank her properly for freeing up my time.” Satterfield chuckled a bit, and Hassan hissed in laughter. Harry stiffened at the poisonous vitriol in Satterfield’s words, and an electric tingle coursed through Ginny’s body. She gasped and glanced at Harry. His jaw was tight, and his emerald eyes glowed. Even through her mental shields, she could feel the burning caldera of magic that lurked inside his skin. Hassan and Satterfield were still laughing and were only a dozen paces from Ginny. Harry’s arm twitched, and the temptation to allow Harry to deal with Satterfield almost overwhelmed her. She could not give in. At least, she could not do so without knowing why Satterfield was at Dzibilchaltun. Taking a step in front of Harry, Ginny spoke up in a calm voice that masked the turmoil inside her. “Your bragging is going to get you into trouble one of these days.” “Who’s there?” Hassan asked. The other two stopped with him. “Lumos,” Satterfield said. Ginny blinked as a blue glow illuminated the area between her and Satterfield’s group. The light barely reached her, but it cast the three men in stark relief. Hassan was out front, his dark skin and features shadowed by the glowing wand behind him. Satterfield had his wand drawn and lit with the bright glow of the light spell. An older gentleman, whom Ginny recognized as the man from the camp, stood next to him with a surprised expression. His cigarette dangled from his lower lip for a moment before it tumbled to the ground in a brief spray of ashes. Satterfield’s worried face slipped into an unsettling and lustful grin. He lowered his wand a bit but kept the tip pointed toward her. “Well, if it isn’t my good luck. I was just reminiscing about our times together, Curator.” Hassan shifted his position slightly, and Ginny sensed Harry moving to the left, flanking the trio in front of her. “You have an odd idea of reminiscing,” Ginny said in what she hoped was a casual tone. Satterfield shrugged, and his eyes glittered in the eerie light. “And you have an odd sense of security, wandering around alone after dark.” He took a few steps to the side, and Ginny followed him with her wand as she tried to keep the other two in view. “Didn’t your father teach you better?” Ginny knew the insult was meant to provoke, but she reacted anyway. Her wand came up, and her bat-bogey hex was on her tongue. “I wouldn’t do that.” The powerful voice stopped her hand before she realized it had been Harry who had spoken and Hassan whose wand had stopped in mid-cast. Ginny had not even seen the man slip past her to the edge of the light. “I will kill you if you attack her.” Satterfield’s eyes widened, and he glanced about. “Who’s there? Show yourself.” “Rather cowardly of you,” Harry said. The shadows swirled, and Harry slipped into the circle of light, prodding Hassan before him at the tip of his wand. “Of course, I didn’t expect better from the likes of you.” Satterfield shifted nervously, and the older gentleman reached toward his pocket. Ginny’s wand came up sharply and pointed it at him. His hand halted and lifted to show that it was empty. “None of that now,” Harry said. “Why don’t you put down your wand, Ginny? I don’t want a fight here.” Startled, Ginny stared at Harry before snapping at him. “I don’t need your help, Harry.” “You must be the famous Harry Potter,” Satterfield said. He smiled and nodded at Harry. “And you must be Lord Alfred Satterfield,” Harry said. “Ah-ah-ah, I wouldn’t move if I were you.” Satterfield stilled, and his smile slipped a bit before returning. “And why is that?” Satterfield asked. “Because Ginny’s right,” Harry said with a malicious grin. Ginny blinked in surprise and lowered her wand as Harry’s praise warmed her and bolstered her like phoenix song. “She doesn’t need my help to take care of all of you in a fair fight. But you don’t play fair, do you?” “I don’t need to listen to this. I’m…” “Shut it!” Harry said. “You don’t realize how lucky you are right now. I should kill you and this scummy Death Eater for threatening her, and then I should walk down to that camp of yours and level it so all the people you have killed get their revenge.” Harry’s eyes burned with anger and power, and Satterfield’s confident smile disappeared as he back away from Harry. “But you tried to kill her, and that, my friend…” Harry’s hand tightened on his wand. “That is something I will make you regret.” A malicious smile crossed Harry’s face. Concerned, Ginny stepped forward and grabbed his arm. “Harry…” “Lord Satterfield!” Everyone flinched as the new voice echoed up the pathway. Hassan took the momentary distraction to step away from Harry and hurry to Satterfield’s side. Both of their wands came up as quick, heavy steps rapidly approached the group. Harry stepped next to Ginny, and she raised her wand as well, settling her feet so that her back was angled toward Harry’s. It was the best defensive position for both of them. Tyler, Satterfield’s American curse breaker, ran into the circle of light, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “Lord Satterfield… your… Edward… he’s here,” Tyler said between gulps of air. For a moment, Ginny swore Satterfield scowled at Tyler, but then he extinguished his wand, and the road fell into darkness again. Everything became a collage of dark shadows, but Harry’s burning eyes followed every move of Satterfield’s group. “I told you not to mention him,” Satterfield said in a low voice that barely carried across the road. “Sorry,” Tyler said. “No matter,” Satterfield said and then raised his voice. “I guess we’ll have to continue this some other time, Mr. Potter. Maybe next time, we can actually exchange pleasantries over tea without all these foolish heroics. We are both businessmen after all.” Harry took a step forward, but Ginny grabbed his sleeve and held him back. “This was a warning,” Harry said. “If you take any action against Curator Weasley or her team, you won’t be able to hide from me.” “Tut, tut, Mr. Potter. Threats don’t become respected citizens such as ourselves,” Satterfield replied in a jovial voice. “Come, gentlemen, we have preparations to make.” With her eyes once again adjusting to the darkness, Ginny watched the group of four shadowy men turn and head back down the road. After they had disappeared, Harry lowered his wand and took a deep breath. “Sorry,” he said. “I know you don’t like me being protective.” Normally, Ginny would agree with him, but she also knew that Hassan had out flanked her and that Satterfield had a way of keeping her off balance. “No,” she said, “I’m glad you were here. Satterfield is dangerous, and I need to remember that.” Harry made a noncommittal grunt as he stowed his wand. “Satterfield’s not the one you should worry about,” Harry said. “What?” Ginny asked. “Oh, he’s dangerous and probably a good duelist,” Harry said, “but that bald man is a former Death Eater.” “Hassan?” Ginny asked in surprise. Although there had been rumors that Hassan had helped Voldemort, as far as Ginny had discovered, they were only rumors. “Is that his name?” Harry asked. “Yes. Aswad Hassan.” “Tom called him the Jackal, probably because of the tattoo on his head,” Harry said. “Either way, he’s the one who taught Tom the potion that brought him back to life in my fourth year. He’s also the one that taught Tom how to control werewolves.” “You mean he’s the reason Remus is dead?” Ginny shuddered at the memory of the pain Remus had endured because of that dreadful spell, and an ember of hate began to burn in the pit of her stomach. “Yeah,” Harry said and then glanced at the rising moon. “It’s late, we should get back.” “But what about Hassan?” Ginny said. “Shouldn’t we do something?” Harry stopped and spoke softly. “Yes, we keep four eyes on him and don’t let our guard down.” Without any further words, he stalked back to the camp, and Ginny could do naught but keep pace with him, her mind awhirl with questions about the evening’s events.
Thanks to everyone who has been patient with me and those who have been sending in reviews over the past few months. If you ever have questions about the story or the current status of the chapters, go to my Yahoo group and I’ll respond. Thanks,
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