(no subject)
Alexandria.
The city today looked out onto the Mediterranean Sea, blue and luxurious. It wasn't always here, though: Alexander the Great himself outlined the walls of the city. He knew what he wanted: small, unassuming, beautifully crafted.
Now, Bill stood looking out at a city that stretched some 70 kilometers along the coast of the Mediterranean. It was uniquely Egyptian, but it was also uniquely itself. The Wizarding Quarter -- much like the one in Luxor -- was squirrelled away from the main city and it didn't face the endless blue of the sea. Consulting the map in his outstretched hand, he showed it to Dumbledore. A series of magical red lines crosshatched the map, appearing and disappearing as he moved from north to east to south to west. "You see, Headmaster? Even this city is filled with carefully-planned vortices. Escape routes visible only for those who know where and when they're active. Permanent Portkeys, as it were, but only active when the lines converge. The ancient Egyptians were so skilled at aligning things with the planets and stars and seasons; it's my belief that those who set these vortices and gridlines into place have done the same thing. It takes a bit of a celestial event to activate them, but it doesn't need to be a major one. Simply an... event. Planets aligning in certain ways, things of that nature."
They weren't there, however, to ponder the nature of the vortices. They were only there to use them to point them to where the crypt might be that contained the item they sought: the horcrux in Godric Gryffindor's dagger. Bill watched the map, mesmerised. "Sir, we should be moving towards the Wizarding Quarter. Shall we?"
"After you, Bill," said Albus with a slight smile. If he had to be here for such a reason, at least he had a fine guide.
They made their way past the Corniche to the western end; Bill couldn't help but pass by the Shatby Tomb. The oldest in all Alexandria, he had to at least take a look.
He could smell the magic in the air; the Wizarding section wasn't far away.
Kom al Sukkfa, the catacombs of Alexandria, had been forgot by the Muggle population for centuries, but the wizards of Alexandria had never lost them. They were a place of reverence, a hallowed site for loved ones who’d passed beyond the veil. But they were also a place riddled with hidden passageways and secret vaults. It was little wonder that Tom Riddle had taken a fancy to such a place, and chose it to guard one of his most important secrets.
With small pops of displaced air, Albus and Bill Disapparated under the arch of the main entrance to the first level of the labyrinth.
"Well, here we are, my boy," said Albus, sighing inwardly while forcing himself to standing straight. Truth be known, he was tired. The events of the last few months were wearing on him, and he knew it would only get worse. One didn’t have to be a Seer to know the future these days.
Bill took a moment to look round in awe: this was one of the most amazing places he'd ever seen, and he'd seen a lot of catacombs, labyrinths, and tombs all over Egypt. This, though, was so much more Greco-Roman in its design; it simply took his breath away. He took a moment to marvel at the central spiral stair (definitely Romanesque): it was an amazing feat of ancient engineering. This place had been visited. Nearly but not quite speechless, he let his hands contact the walls leading to the chambers.
One could simply breathe the antiquity of the place. "I... I could stay here for months, Headmaster. It would be something to study. All this time in Luxor and I didn't know... look at these chambers. Look at the markings: a beautiful synthesis of Egyptian and Roman culture. I'm..." Bill laughed at himself. "I'm needing to focus on the task at hand."
Albus grinned and clapped Bill on the back. "Perhaps you'll be able to come back here in the near future. One can only hope." He pulled a scroll out of his robe pocket and unrolled it. "The directions to the vault are detailed. Tom made sure of that. My only worry is that, in the time between 1954 and whenever this horcrux was made, Voldemort changed his mind."
"It's entirely possible. A lot of it depends on how much time he had to go back and redo what had already been done, though I have to say this is a beautiful place to hide something. Look at..." Bill stopped, his eyes riveted on a strip of hieroglyphics above one of the chamber doors; it was still legible in part. His majesty had brought for him a case of scrolls. They said before his majesty that he was lost. The heart of his majesty was sad beyond all else; his majesty said that he would do everything according to his...
Not now. Alexandria wasn't going to go away; he could come back here at his leisure and study. Focus, Bill. "Headmaster, look at the fittings on these chamber doors: it takes a small army to open and close them without the luxury of magic. Speaking of that..."
"We know the range of guard curses we might be up against," said Albus, choosing a middle pathway that began a slow descent down to the seventh level where the vault was located. "I daresay you know even more, although I doubt Voldemort put as much study into curses of the region as you have in finding ways to break them."
The glows from the ends of their wands illuminated runic writing amidst hieroglyphics, ancient paintings of Roman deities beside sketches of rare herbs for potions. As they passed into the sixth level, the air grew colder.
"Watch now," whispered Albus. "Can you feel it?"
Bill shivered visibly. "Yes, I can. Wait. Before we go any further... here, take this." Digging into a pocket, he brought out two silver-and-gold cartouches on golden chains. "Gringott's puts a lot of time and energy into training its curse-breakers, and the goblins don't like for us to get killed if we can help it. Wear this cartouche and I'll wear mine. If we get separated by some quirk of fate, you can Summon me by pressing the Eye of Horus; it's the symbol at the top of the cartouche. Likewise, I can Summon you: it's rather like a Portkey." Putting his round his neck, he waited for Albus to do the same. "There. It works within a radius of several kilometers. This pair is keyed each to the other; no other pair of tracking devices works with either of these." Satisifed, shivering again, he moved forward with his wand drawn.
"Thank you, Bill. Having these could come in quite handy." He began walking again, purposefully striding down the dim corridor. "I don't think Voldemort would have used the traditional tomb protections," Albus said with deadly quiet. "He liked to think himself beyond the rest of us common wizards."
"I agree." Bill nodded, following the Headmaster's lead. "But still, if you will: let me go in first once we're there. I shouldn't like to think of myself as expendable, but if only one of us is to survive this quest, our world needs it to be you."
On that point, there was no negotiation.
"If you insist," said Albus with a nod of the head. He'd be right behind the younger man, anyway, ready to aid, if aid was needed. His fingers glanced across the cartouche. Its weight against his chest gave him comfort. He thought of similar Summoning charms used over the years and years of perilous adventures like this. There were more of these memories than he liked.
"I do." Of all the things he was qualified to do, breaking curses on ancient tombs was probably the thing at which he had the most experience. So long as there weren't ancient werewolves protecting this one... Bill had a sudden flash of memory but shook his head quickly, vigourously. Not now. If they survived this -- which they would -- and survived what was to come after this (the Order meeting weighed heavy on his mind, but most notably it was the look in Fleur's eyes that haunted him), he would have enough time to sort through memories. Not right now.
"Look at the fittings on this door." It was cold to the touch, a warning of what might lay inside. Wand at the ready, Bill tapped three times. "Revelare." He stopped, waited: no glamour, or at least no standard glamour: what they saw on the door was what was actually there: an ancient funerary procession. Standard-issue tomb decoration with one exception: at the end of the line of carved-in people, an almost unnoticeable hooded figure, staff in its hands. That was not typical for the time. A later addition, perhaps: its lines were only a fraction clearer. Of course, that could have been due to the depth of the tomb and the stillness of the air.
The tension was palpable. The Alohomora spell was almost inaudible but the screech of rock against ancient rock was not; Bill held his breath, high alert. "Lumos." The light from two wands barely made a dent in the intense dark fog and certainly did nothing to stem the chill. Suddenly, though, the chill was replaced by a stultifying moist heat. This tomb wants a dozen curse-breakers, Bill thought, just before he saw it: a shadow moving round the edges of the floor.
"Fuck! A Lethifold."
"We'll save the more... carnal activities for later, I should think," remarked Dumbledore with steely calmness, wand raised. As one, he and Bill cast the only spell known to stop one of these creatures. "Expecto Patronum!" A huge and silvery phoenix flew out of Dumbledore's wand, beating back against the encroaching shadow-creature; a radiant Nehebkau -- Egypt's winged snake-God of protection and magic -- joined the other Patronus. For a moment the battle raged back and forth: the Lethifold gaining ground, trying to slither round the magical protectors towards human feet, but there was nothing doing. After all this time it was weakened; much like a boggart it simply burst into a thousand pieces and disappeared.
Bill let out a sigh of relief but didn't let down his guard. "That can't be all... right. Look out, Headmaster." Deep fog roiled away unfathomably, considering the closed nature of this crypt, regenerating into a rain of tiny walking daggers; both phoenix and ancient god vanished as one Shielding Charm and one Immobilising Charm were cast in their stead. Once the daggers had been forced back, Bill Banished and sealed them quickly into one of the urns lining the walls of the crypt. The urn rattled dangerously.
"We don't have much time, Headmaster. Here: the sarcophagus. Our map and gridlines point to it being inside." Bill wiped his brow, preparing to levitate the sarcophagus's lid.
"I can see why you find this job so entertaining, Mr. Weasley." There was an undeniable twinkle in Albus's eyes, but his wand was at the ready. Now the room had cleared of fog, Lethifold, and razor-sharp dancing daggers, neither man was taking chances. Once the sarcophagus was open, a deadly and still quiet filled the room: the only thing to be heard was one heartbeat after another, one breath after another.
It reminded Bill of mummies; he half-expected there to be a living one in the coffin. But there was only a long-deceased linen-wrapped figure holding a spectacular jewel-hilted dagger. As the light from the wand ran over it, the gems glittered.
"Gryffindor's dagger, sir?" Bill couldn't help but glance at Dumbledore's ruined hand with a shiver. "I can break the curses protecting this crypt, but you're the one who knows how to destroy a horcrux." He didn't even realise he was holding his breath.
"No, not Gryffindor's dagger. Tom -- Voldemort, I mean -- was duped. I'd like to know who managed to fob it off on him. Whoever it was, it's unlikely he or she lived much longer, whether Voldemort found out the truth or not. This dagger is clearly from the fifteenth century; you can tell by how the jewels were inlaid." He approached the sarcophagus carefully. He was a powerful wizard, but something like this required not only power, but great skill and last time he'd not taken into account all the possible outcomes. When he'd broken the horcrux within the ring, he'd only just got to Severus in time, and he'd never regained full use of his right hand. Knowing tha this narrow escape had resulted in a new life of sorts made the sacrifice much more bearable.
He leaned against the sarcophagus, the chill of the stone pressing through the cloth of his summer robes. First he cast Shielding Spells to protect Bill as well as himself. Next, he slowly reached both hands out to remove the dagger: his hands met resistance. "There's a barrier here," he muttered. He tried a few Neutralization charms to no avail. Then he sighed. "Oh, Tom. It was always about the blood for you, wasn't it? So trite."
The tip of his wand touched the end of his left index finger, and three drops of blood splashed against the invisible barrier.
"All right, there, Headmaster?" asked Bill from the other side of the room.
"Yes," murmured Albus, eyes not leaving the dagger. "Stay where you are, Mr. Weasley." In that instant, Albus felt the inexorable pressure of the last and most dangerous of the curses begin. The magic funneled up through the openings in the barrier created by his blood and grabbed at him, clutching and not letting go. It was like standing inside the vortex of a whirlwind. Nothing could be seen moving within the tomb, but all around him magic was whipping and slashing about, drawing on his energy and draining it. To use power one must sacrifice power: he hoped the Shielding Charm was strong enough to protect Bill.
"Institio," he commanded, and the psychic wind lessened enough for him to grab the dagger. It burned with cold fire, but he did not let go. The curse emanated from the ruby in the center of the hilt: that's where the horcrux was. He struggled to raise his wand, pressing the tip against the ruby with a slow but steady hand. "With this I release you," he said, and with a loud crack, the ruby burst apart and the tomb filled with an ugly red glow. The horcrux broke with a shriek, pulling yet more of Albus's energy with it.
And then it was done.
He propped both hands against the sarcophagus. His knees were unsteady, and he was tired. So tired. "Bill," he whispered, "a hand, if you please?"
"You've both of mine, sir." Bill hurried to his side and took his elbow. "Let me do the honours getting us out of here; we really ought to be well away before that urn bursts."
Albus nodded; he wouldn't have been able to Disapparate for love nor money at the moment. He was glad to have Bill with him. Very glad. After a moment there was the familiar compression of Apparation, and soon enough, there would be rest.
The city today looked out onto the Mediterranean Sea, blue and luxurious. It wasn't always here, though: Alexander the Great himself outlined the walls of the city. He knew what he wanted: small, unassuming, beautifully crafted.
Now, Bill stood looking out at a city that stretched some 70 kilometers along the coast of the Mediterranean. It was uniquely Egyptian, but it was also uniquely itself. The Wizarding Quarter -- much like the one in Luxor -- was squirrelled away from the main city and it didn't face the endless blue of the sea. Consulting the map in his outstretched hand, he showed it to Dumbledore. A series of magical red lines crosshatched the map, appearing and disappearing as he moved from north to east to south to west. "You see, Headmaster? Even this city is filled with carefully-planned vortices. Escape routes visible only for those who know where and when they're active. Permanent Portkeys, as it were, but only active when the lines converge. The ancient Egyptians were so skilled at aligning things with the planets and stars and seasons; it's my belief that those who set these vortices and gridlines into place have done the same thing. It takes a bit of a celestial event to activate them, but it doesn't need to be a major one. Simply an... event. Planets aligning in certain ways, things of that nature."
They weren't there, however, to ponder the nature of the vortices. They were only there to use them to point them to where the crypt might be that contained the item they sought: the horcrux in Godric Gryffindor's dagger. Bill watched the map, mesmerised. "Sir, we should be moving towards the Wizarding Quarter. Shall we?"
"After you, Bill," said Albus with a slight smile. If he had to be here for such a reason, at least he had a fine guide.
They made their way past the Corniche to the western end; Bill couldn't help but pass by the Shatby Tomb. The oldest in all Alexandria, he had to at least take a look.
He could smell the magic in the air; the Wizarding section wasn't far away.
Kom al Sukkfa, the catacombs of Alexandria, had been forgot by the Muggle population for centuries, but the wizards of Alexandria had never lost them. They were a place of reverence, a hallowed site for loved ones who’d passed beyond the veil. But they were also a place riddled with hidden passageways and secret vaults. It was little wonder that Tom Riddle had taken a fancy to such a place, and chose it to guard one of his most important secrets.
With small pops of displaced air, Albus and Bill Disapparated under the arch of the main entrance to the first level of the labyrinth.
"Well, here we are, my boy," said Albus, sighing inwardly while forcing himself to standing straight. Truth be known, he was tired. The events of the last few months were wearing on him, and he knew it would only get worse. One didn’t have to be a Seer to know the future these days.
Bill took a moment to look round in awe: this was one of the most amazing places he'd ever seen, and he'd seen a lot of catacombs, labyrinths, and tombs all over Egypt. This, though, was so much more Greco-Roman in its design; it simply took his breath away. He took a moment to marvel at the central spiral stair (definitely Romanesque): it was an amazing feat of ancient engineering. This place had been visited. Nearly but not quite speechless, he let his hands contact the walls leading to the chambers.
One could simply breathe the antiquity of the place. "I... I could stay here for months, Headmaster. It would be something to study. All this time in Luxor and I didn't know... look at these chambers. Look at the markings: a beautiful synthesis of Egyptian and Roman culture. I'm..." Bill laughed at himself. "I'm needing to focus on the task at hand."
Albus grinned and clapped Bill on the back. "Perhaps you'll be able to come back here in the near future. One can only hope." He pulled a scroll out of his robe pocket and unrolled it. "The directions to the vault are detailed. Tom made sure of that. My only worry is that, in the time between 1954 and whenever this horcrux was made, Voldemort changed his mind."
"It's entirely possible. A lot of it depends on how much time he had to go back and redo what had already been done, though I have to say this is a beautiful place to hide something. Look at..." Bill stopped, his eyes riveted on a strip of hieroglyphics above one of the chamber doors; it was still legible in part. His majesty had brought for him a case of scrolls. They said before his majesty that he was lost. The heart of his majesty was sad beyond all else; his majesty said that he would do everything according to his...
Not now. Alexandria wasn't going to go away; he could come back here at his leisure and study. Focus, Bill. "Headmaster, look at the fittings on these chamber doors: it takes a small army to open and close them without the luxury of magic. Speaking of that..."
"We know the range of guard curses we might be up against," said Albus, choosing a middle pathway that began a slow descent down to the seventh level where the vault was located. "I daresay you know even more, although I doubt Voldemort put as much study into curses of the region as you have in finding ways to break them."
The glows from the ends of their wands illuminated runic writing amidst hieroglyphics, ancient paintings of Roman deities beside sketches of rare herbs for potions. As they passed into the sixth level, the air grew colder.
"Watch now," whispered Albus. "Can you feel it?"
Bill shivered visibly. "Yes, I can. Wait. Before we go any further... here, take this." Digging into a pocket, he brought out two silver-and-gold cartouches on golden chains. "Gringott's puts a lot of time and energy into training its curse-breakers, and the goblins don't like for us to get killed if we can help it. Wear this cartouche and I'll wear mine. If we get separated by some quirk of fate, you can Summon me by pressing the Eye of Horus; it's the symbol at the top of the cartouche. Likewise, I can Summon you: it's rather like a Portkey." Putting his round his neck, he waited for Albus to do the same. "There. It works within a radius of several kilometers. This pair is keyed each to the other; no other pair of tracking devices works with either of these." Satisifed, shivering again, he moved forward with his wand drawn.
"Thank you, Bill. Having these could come in quite handy." He began walking again, purposefully striding down the dim corridor. "I don't think Voldemort would have used the traditional tomb protections," Albus said with deadly quiet. "He liked to think himself beyond the rest of us common wizards."
"I agree." Bill nodded, following the Headmaster's lead. "But still, if you will: let me go in first once we're there. I shouldn't like to think of myself as expendable, but if only one of us is to survive this quest, our world needs it to be you."
On that point, there was no negotiation.
"If you insist," said Albus with a nod of the head. He'd be right behind the younger man, anyway, ready to aid, if aid was needed. His fingers glanced across the cartouche. Its weight against his chest gave him comfort. He thought of similar Summoning charms used over the years and years of perilous adventures like this. There were more of these memories than he liked.
"I do." Of all the things he was qualified to do, breaking curses on ancient tombs was probably the thing at which he had the most experience. So long as there weren't ancient werewolves protecting this one... Bill had a sudden flash of memory but shook his head quickly, vigourously. Not now. If they survived this -- which they would -- and survived what was to come after this (the Order meeting weighed heavy on his mind, but most notably it was the look in Fleur's eyes that haunted him), he would have enough time to sort through memories. Not right now.
"Look at the fittings on this door." It was cold to the touch, a warning of what might lay inside. Wand at the ready, Bill tapped three times. "Revelare." He stopped, waited: no glamour, or at least no standard glamour: what they saw on the door was what was actually there: an ancient funerary procession. Standard-issue tomb decoration with one exception: at the end of the line of carved-in people, an almost unnoticeable hooded figure, staff in its hands. That was not typical for the time. A later addition, perhaps: its lines were only a fraction clearer. Of course, that could have been due to the depth of the tomb and the stillness of the air.
The tension was palpable. The Alohomora spell was almost inaudible but the screech of rock against ancient rock was not; Bill held his breath, high alert. "Lumos." The light from two wands barely made a dent in the intense dark fog and certainly did nothing to stem the chill. Suddenly, though, the chill was replaced by a stultifying moist heat. This tomb wants a dozen curse-breakers, Bill thought, just before he saw it: a shadow moving round the edges of the floor.
"Fuck! A Lethifold."
"We'll save the more... carnal activities for later, I should think," remarked Dumbledore with steely calmness, wand raised. As one, he and Bill cast the only spell known to stop one of these creatures. "Expecto Patronum!" A huge and silvery phoenix flew out of Dumbledore's wand, beating back against the encroaching shadow-creature; a radiant Nehebkau -- Egypt's winged snake-God of protection and magic -- joined the other Patronus. For a moment the battle raged back and forth: the Lethifold gaining ground, trying to slither round the magical protectors towards human feet, but there was nothing doing. After all this time it was weakened; much like a boggart it simply burst into a thousand pieces and disappeared.
Bill let out a sigh of relief but didn't let down his guard. "That can't be all... right. Look out, Headmaster." Deep fog roiled away unfathomably, considering the closed nature of this crypt, regenerating into a rain of tiny walking daggers; both phoenix and ancient god vanished as one Shielding Charm and one Immobilising Charm were cast in their stead. Once the daggers had been forced back, Bill Banished and sealed them quickly into one of the urns lining the walls of the crypt. The urn rattled dangerously.
"We don't have much time, Headmaster. Here: the sarcophagus. Our map and gridlines point to it being inside." Bill wiped his brow, preparing to levitate the sarcophagus's lid.
"I can see why you find this job so entertaining, Mr. Weasley." There was an undeniable twinkle in Albus's eyes, but his wand was at the ready. Now the room had cleared of fog, Lethifold, and razor-sharp dancing daggers, neither man was taking chances. Once the sarcophagus was open, a deadly and still quiet filled the room: the only thing to be heard was one heartbeat after another, one breath after another.
It reminded Bill of mummies; he half-expected there to be a living one in the coffin. But there was only a long-deceased linen-wrapped figure holding a spectacular jewel-hilted dagger. As the light from the wand ran over it, the gems glittered.
"Gryffindor's dagger, sir?" Bill couldn't help but glance at Dumbledore's ruined hand with a shiver. "I can break the curses protecting this crypt, but you're the one who knows how to destroy a horcrux." He didn't even realise he was holding his breath.
"No, not Gryffindor's dagger. Tom -- Voldemort, I mean -- was duped. I'd like to know who managed to fob it off on him. Whoever it was, it's unlikely he or she lived much longer, whether Voldemort found out the truth or not. This dagger is clearly from the fifteenth century; you can tell by how the jewels were inlaid." He approached the sarcophagus carefully. He was a powerful wizard, but something like this required not only power, but great skill and last time he'd not taken into account all the possible outcomes. When he'd broken the horcrux within the ring, he'd only just got to Severus in time, and he'd never regained full use of his right hand. Knowing tha this narrow escape had resulted in a new life of sorts made the sacrifice much more bearable.
He leaned against the sarcophagus, the chill of the stone pressing through the cloth of his summer robes. First he cast Shielding Spells to protect Bill as well as himself. Next, he slowly reached both hands out to remove the dagger: his hands met resistance. "There's a barrier here," he muttered. He tried a few Neutralization charms to no avail. Then he sighed. "Oh, Tom. It was always about the blood for you, wasn't it? So trite."
The tip of his wand touched the end of his left index finger, and three drops of blood splashed against the invisible barrier.
"All right, there, Headmaster?" asked Bill from the other side of the room.
"Yes," murmured Albus, eyes not leaving the dagger. "Stay where you are, Mr. Weasley." In that instant, Albus felt the inexorable pressure of the last and most dangerous of the curses begin. The magic funneled up through the openings in the barrier created by his blood and grabbed at him, clutching and not letting go. It was like standing inside the vortex of a whirlwind. Nothing could be seen moving within the tomb, but all around him magic was whipping and slashing about, drawing on his energy and draining it. To use power one must sacrifice power: he hoped the Shielding Charm was strong enough to protect Bill.
"Institio," he commanded, and the psychic wind lessened enough for him to grab the dagger. It burned with cold fire, but he did not let go. The curse emanated from the ruby in the center of the hilt: that's where the horcrux was. He struggled to raise his wand, pressing the tip against the ruby with a slow but steady hand. "With this I release you," he said, and with a loud crack, the ruby burst apart and the tomb filled with an ugly red glow. The horcrux broke with a shriek, pulling yet more of Albus's energy with it.
And then it was done.
He propped both hands against the sarcophagus. His knees were unsteady, and he was tired. So tired. "Bill," he whispered, "a hand, if you please?"
"You've both of mine, sir." Bill hurried to his side and took his elbow. "Let me do the honours getting us out of here; we really ought to be well away before that urn bursts."
Albus nodded; he wouldn't have been able to Disapparate for love nor money at the moment. He was glad to have Bill with him. Very glad. After a moment there was the familiar compression of Apparation, and soon enough, there would be rest.