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Title: Harry Potter and the Dagger of Ravenclaw, Chapter 3: Cairo
Author: kanedax
Fandom: Harry Potterverse
Rating: R for language and violence
Spoilers: HBP; HP & The Seven Soldiers (see above)
Summary: Harry, Ron, and Hermione reach Cairo and the fourth Horcrux
Notes: Things get dark. You have been warned. As usual, I don’t own Harry Potter. JK Rowling has that honor, even if it means decades of harassing fan mail after she’s done.
Previous Chapter (Awkward) / Next Chapter (The Mutatio Curse)
Harry was squinting down at the Hogwarts library book, realizing he should be pulling out his wand soon to continue to read it in the setting sunlight, when he heard a flutter and a light touch on his shoulder.
“There you are,” Harry said, turning to his new guest. “Have a good trip?”
Hedwig hooted and nibbled Harry’s ear.
“Hope your partner wasn’t too much of a bother.”
Hedwig turned to the east, a look of slight irritation on her face. As if in response, a tiny little ‘prrp’ing twittered out of the air, and soon a second owl, minuscule compared to Hedwig, was darting around Harry’s head.
“Calm down, Pig,” Harry said to Ron’s owl, Pigwidgeon. “Ron’ll be out in a minute. He’s helping Hermione get ready.”
As Pigwidgeon landed on the ground next to Harry, bouncing around like a little boy holding in a pee, Harry was once again astonished by the animals in the wizarding world. Hedwig and Pig had both been accompanying the trio across Europe. But the night the group stopped in Turkey, the two birds disappeared. In the past, Harry might have been worried. But by now he wasn’t.
They probably took the long way, Harry thought. Looped around Syria and Lebanon to meet us here, so they could take breaks for food and water. They didn’t even have to be told when to go, or where to meet us. They just knew. Amazing.
“There, that should do it,” came a voice from behind Harry. He turned around to see Ron working his way out of some thick foliage, tucking something into the Sorting Hat, which was hanging at his side.
Harry thought his eyes were deceiving him in the growing darkness. “Ron,” he asked. “Is that a bra?”
“Well, yeah,” Ron said. “What, you didn’t expect her to wear it under her wrappings, did you?”
“I suppose not.”
“Hey, Pig,” Ron said as Pigwidgeon spun gleefully around his head. “She’ll be out in a minute, just has to finish getting her stuff back on.”
“So how does this work?” Harry asked as Ron sat down beside him. “This is my first time outside of England in the real world, let alone the wizarding one. This’ll be our first time actually going into a populated area since we left.”
“How does what work?”
“Well, protocol, or something,” Harry asked, flipping through A Wizard’s Guide To Touring Fostat and Al-Qahirah. “Are there landing strips for brooms? Are their customs agents? Security screeners?”
“Aguamenti,” Ron said after he pulled his wand out. A stream of water erupted from the end, and Ron took a sip like he was drinking from a garden hose. “Well, when my family visited before Third Year, we came through Portkey. We had to go through some basic security at the station, but nothing too severe. Passport, scan for Dark Charms, that sort of thing.”
“But I don’t think we’ll have too much to worry about,” said Hermione as she wrestled her way out of the bushes.
“How you feeling?” Harry asked as Hermione tugged her Covert Cowl free of some branches.
“A little sore,” Hermione said, rubbing her hands along the sides of her ribs. “But I’m sure I’ll get used to the lack of oxygen eventually. Anyway, I’m sure they’ve beefed up security considerably since Voldemort’s return - calm down, Ron. I don’t think it should concern us, though, since we’ll be coming in by broom.”
“It’s not regulated?”
“They can’t, really,” said Hermione as she sat down on the other side of Harry. “Sure, they could say that no one gets in or out without being searched, but that’s not really feasible.”
“Why’s that?” Harry said, flipping absently through the pages. “Couldn’t they just stop people at the door?”
Hermione sighed her irritated sigh, and pulled the book from Harry’s lap. “And here I thought you’d be more prepared, Harry,” she scolded. “Cairo’s not Diagon Alley. There’s no real front entrance.”
“There’s not?”
“Nope,” said Ron, walking around behind the two so he could get a better look at the map, with Hermione in the middle. “Diagon Alley existed before London was London. The town kinda built itself around us, and we had to adjust our entrances and exits accordingly. Cairo’s wizarding district is on the outside of downtown.”
“Cairo’s wizards live around the Giza Necropolis,” Hermione explained, turning the page to a map of the area. “They’ve been there for millennia. The buildings and residences are spread out among the tombs and pyramids, and can only be accessed with magic wands or scepters. But the town itself doesn’t have a real entrance. Cairo’s on one side, and the other side is lots and lots of desert. People slide in and out of the west side all of the time, and there’s no way to stop them.”
“Magic scepters?” Harry said. “That’s odd.”
“Honestly, Harry,” Hermione said, absolutely perplexed. “You never paid any attention in history class, did you?”
“How many times will you ask me that before you realize you get the same answer every time?”
“Just like clothing, food, whatever, magic items are cultural,” Hermione explained carefully. “Look at how we dressed compared to Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, and even they were European. Egyptians are even more different. We use wands. Egyptians use scepters. We use owl post. Egyptians use ibises and cranes. We have paper scrolls. Egyptians have papyrus.”
“Even I could have told you that,” said Ron. “Course, I’ve already been here, so…”
“This is very exciting, though, isn’t it?” Hermione said, flipping through the pages faster. “Centuries of history. A different culture. The tombs, the artifacts, the Delta. Oh, I wish we had more time to explore. It’s all so… educational!”
“Take in what you can,” said Harry, taking the book from her and pointing to the map. “But there’s our ultimate destination, and it’s going to be a straight shot.”
“Don’t worry, love,” Ron said, putting his arm around her waist. “If things turn out well enough, and the thought of coming back doesn’t make us physically ill, we’ll visit sometime.”
“Really?” Hermione said, practically bouncing on the ground.
“Absolutely,” he said, sticking his wand out to give Pig a little water. “I was here with my family, remember? It’ll be a completely different trip with a girlfriend. I won’t have to worry about Mum and Dad dragging me on a tour of Bill’s office. Or about Fred and George freaking Ginny out with their mummified chorus line. Or about Percy… well, or about Percy.”
“I just hope these things don’t draw too much attention,” said Harry about the Cowls as the three prepared to leave. “Since we’ll be in public.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much,” said Hermione. “It’s a public area, sure. But it’s the Necropolis. There’s so many Muggle whackjobs as is running around the area, performing rituals to their alien creators, or whatever. Who’ll look twice at three creepy looking guys with cloaks?”
“Speaking of,” Harry said, lifting his hand to his shoulder, “Time for you to get dressed, girl.”
Hedwig reluctantly hopped onto Harry’s arm, giving him a dark look.
“Sorry, Hedwig,” said Harry. “If Voldemort has the Death Eaters looking for me, they’ll be looking for a Snowy Owl, as well.”
Hedwig’s wings fluttered defensively at the sight of Hermione’s wand.
“You, too, Pig,” Ron said, and Pigwidgeon responded by flying up into a nearby tree. “Oh, come on, Pig, get down here.”
“I’m sorry, Hedwig,” Hermione said. “This’ll only hurt for a second. Look on the bright side: You get the Goth look for a while. Very intimidating.”
Hermione waved her wand, and Hedwig’s white form was instantly replaced by a jet black body, her face pulled outward into a long beak.
“Brilliant,” Harry said as he got his first look at Hedwig the raven.
“Why couldn’t you do that when we were pretending to be Crabbe and Goyle?” Ron asked. “Why did we have to drink their hair?”
“Polyjuice is a lot safer and easier when it comes to Transfiguring humans,” Hermione explained. “Plus it’s a better method when you’re trying to impersonate a particular person, because it gets all the details right. Hedwig’s about as large of a creature that I’m comfortable changing right now by spell. Plus I didn’t change her into a specific raven, just a generic one. You okay, girl?”
Hedwig opened her beak in response, and fluttered alarmingly in the air when a hoarse caw came out instead of the usual hoot.
“You look fantastic, Hedwig, don’t worry,” said Harry. Then to Ron: “You have Pig?”
“No,” Ron moped, staring up into the tree. “He’s being a bastard about this.”
Hermione sighed. “I think we could probably just leave him as he is for now. He’s African Scops, Sub-Saharan. He should blend in better in Cairo than a hyperactive blackbird version of himself.”
“Hear that, Pig?” said Ron. “You can come down now. And why do you know more about my owl than I do, Hermione?”
“My Mum bought me an ornithology book for my fifth birthday,” said Hermione, her voice shifting as she stood up and pulled the Covert Cowl over her head. “I had it memorized in a month.”
Ron looked up and down Hermione’s body. With her breasts now bound, and her face and voice replaced by that of a scarred and scruffy man, he couldn’t believe that this was still his girlfriend.
“What is it, Ron?” Hermione growled nervously.
“Nothing,” Ron said uncomfortably. “Just promise that we’re in a no-PDA zone while we’re in costume. I really don’t want that face kissing me, I’ll have nightmares for a month.”
“Mommy, mommy!” squealed a boy from behind them. “Look! That man has a pet bird!”
“Ah can see that, deah,” said the boy’s mother, who was dressed in a tight halter-top and sported a deep American accent. Harry wasn’t very familiar with American dialects, but recognized it as one he heard while being forced to watch Gone With The Wind with Mrs. Figg. “Excuse me, suh?”
Harry turned to the woman, and hoped that the face under the Cowl would be enough for her to let them go on. No such luck.
“Would you mind if I took a picshuh of you and mah boy, Dylan?” she asked, holding up a camera.
The three exchanged nervous glances. Ron shrugged. Why not?
“Yeah, sure,” Harry said, his voice growling through his new vocal chords.
As Dylan, who was dressed in a baseball cap and a t-shirt with the words “Atlanta Braves” scribbled across the front, scampered over to Harry’s side, Harry noticed out of the corner of his eye that Hermione had pulled her wand. As the mother raised the camera to her eyes and snapped it, the flash blinking brightly in the darkness, Hermione flicked the wand covertly toward her.
“Thank you,” the mother drawled. “So are y’all, like, magicians or something?”
Harry’s eyes darted to the side, and saw the same look of panic in Ron’s eyes.
“What?” Harry stammered.
“Y’know, magicians,” the woman said perkily. “Witches and stuff. Y’all into Satanism and Paganism and stuff like that? Here to perform some dark rituals?”
Harry looked at Hermione, who was trying to cover her smile with her gloved hand. “You might say that,” he said.
“Ah love the brooms,” the woman said. “They’re a nice touch for the whole outfit.”
“Thank you,” said Ron.
“We should probably leave you,” said Hermione, her lip still twitching. “Places to go, virgins to sacrifice, you know.”
The woman looked between the three, and smiled vacantly. “All right, then,” she said, grabbing Dylan’s hand. “Y’all have fun with that now.”
As the two groups parted, and the three of them continued on to their destination, Hermione burst into spitting laughter.
“That’s not funny,” said Harry harshly. “We’re drawing attention to ourselves.”
“No, we’re fine,” said Ron, grinning at Hermione’s outburst. “God knows how many people asked to take pictures of my Dad when we were here. He loved it, we had to physically restrain him from asking how the cameras worked.”
Harry looked back nervously at the family, who had melted into the crowd of tourists. “I suppose this is probably a bad time to wonder if Fred and George’s Cowls work on film. If they develop those, and see two teenage boys and a teenage girl instead of three middle-aged men, we’re in trouble.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Hermione said, wiping tears from her eyes. “I cast a spell that I learned in an Auror training guide. Our picture will come out overdeveloped. No proof that they even saw us.”
“Really?” said Ron. “That’s kind of cool.”
“We weren’t going back to Hogwarts,” said Hermione, shrugging. “I had to study something over the summer.”
“Where’d you get the book?” asked Harry.
“From Tonks. She let me borrow it after she heard that we were going on secret Order business.”
“This it?” Ron asked as they approached the western wall of one of the Great Pyramids. “This the place?”
“Yeah, it’s along here,” Harry said, running his hand across the stone. As he clutched his wand in his cloak pocket, faint hieroglyphics glowed from various points along the slanted wall.
“Which one are we looking for?” Ron asked, his wand likewise held in his hand.
“Khufu’s Armory Emporium,” Harry said. “But I can’t read these…”
The words came from his mouth, and the glyphs shifted and mutated until they were in perfectly legible English.
“Or they could just do that,” said Hermione, who had been scanning a scrap of paper with translations.
“Armory Emporium?” said Ron. “Like, with weapons and stuff? Don’t see many of those in the wizarding world. The bad guys prefer magic, same as everyone else.”
“Some bad guys prefer messy,” said Hermione. “They like the blood. Just look at Sectum Sempra.”
“This place specializes in ritualistic weapons, too,” explained Harry. “My dad’s journal said that the owners of the place, Wadjet and Sekhmet, are both direct descendants of Khufu, a particularly cruel and ruthless Pharaoh. They were devout supporters of Voldemort when he was in power the first time, believing that he was the reincarnation of their ancestor.”
“Wadjet and Sekhmet,” mumbled Hermione. “They’re named after a snake goddess and a war goddess. Sisters?” Harry nodded.
“Sounds like they walk the walk,” Ron said.
“If they’re still alive, there’s no reason to think that they’ve changed their mind about Voldemort’s heritage, especially with the whole ‘resurrection’ angle.”
“This is what we’re looking for,” Harry said, pulling a page from his cloak. “I traced it from Dad’s journal.”
“The Dagger of Ravenclaw,” Hermione read, looking at the curved blade on Harry’s sketch, the handle topped with a raven’s head.
“It’s Rowena’s artifact,” said Harry. “Dad says she kept it on her at all times after the Founders began to fall apart at the seams. Just in case.”
“Probably wanted to make sure she had some other advantage in case her wand got knocked out of battle,” said Ron. “Smart girl, that.”
“Keep your eyes out for the handle,” said Harry as they reached the area of the wall marked Khufu’s Armory. “It’s possible that the dagger’s sheathed, so the blade might not be of any help in the search. Everybody ready?”
Ron and Hermione nodded.
“Take my lead, don’t do anything unless we’re provoked first. If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to walk out without any violence.”
“Why do I doubt that?” said Ron hopelessly.
Harry looked around to make sure that no one was looking at them. “Go in, come out, next stop Italy.” He raised his wand to his waist and stepped forward. The wand sank effortlessly into the stone, and his body, with Hedwig on his shoulder, followed close behind.
Harry knew that it was possible to enchant walls and ceilings to change a room’s appearance. In the Great Hall, there was rarely ever a time when the ceiling wasn’t showing the outside sun or a flashing thunderstorm.
Wadjet and Sekhmet Khufu could have very easily made a few windows in their Armory. They apparently chose not to. Walking into their shop was like walking into a poorly lit tomb. Black-shafted candles glowed ominously from the walls, casting their pale light over glass-covered cases. On the walls hung dozens of swords, axes, and various other weapons. Harry ran his gloved fingers idly across one of the cases, which housed numerous star-shaped blades. His fingers left a streak across the glass as they wiped off a thin layer of dust.
“Shuriken,” came a creaking voice from the far end of the shop. “From Japan. Very good.”
Harry turned to the origin of the voice. Behind a counter, in front of a wall of hanging knives, stood a crouched, wrapped figure. Her head and face were covered by scarves, and she was leaning on a large staff with a metal snake’s head on the top.
Must be Wadjet, Harry thought, looking at the hissing cobra. Where’s Sekhmet?
“You buy?” Wadjet asked.
“You speak English?” Harry asked, forcing his voice to toughen up, to enhance the gruff noise coming from his throat.
Wadjet held up her thumb and index finger, holding them close together. “A small,” she said. “You buy? Good price.”
“Just looking, thanks,” Harry said idly as Hermione entered behind him.
“Buy scabbard?” Wadjet asked, pointing to the tip of Harry’s sword, which was poking out of the bottom of his cloak.
Harry tightened his robes around him, realizing too late that he probably should have left his sword in the Sorting Hat. The last thing he should have done was to bring the Sword of Gryffindor into a weapons expert’s shop.
“Actually, I’m looking for something a little more specific,” Harry said, looking around, hearing Ron enter. “But I can’t seem to find anything I like.”
“What you like?” asked Wadjet. “We have back room.”
“You don’t happen to have any Rowena Ravenclaw merchandise, do you?”
Wadjet stiffened. “What kind?”
“Oh, you know, anything,” Harry said, trying hard to keep the shake out of his voice. “My parents graduated from Ravenclaw’s House at Hogwarts, and I’m kind of a fan.”
“You Ravenclaw?”
“Naw,” said Harry. “Flunked out. Didn’t keep me from my fascination with the witch, though. That’s why I got Grey Lady here,” at this he pointed to Hedwig, who remained perched on his shoulder. “Named her after the House ghost.”
“You do realize,” said a second voice as a woman, dressed like Wadjet, stepped from the back room, “that the Ravenclaw House is symbolized by an eagle, not a raven?” She pointed to Hedwig.
“Oh, good, someone who doesn’t speak broken English,” said Harry to Sekhmet, whose scepter was topped by the head of a lioness.
“Rowena originally wanted a raven as a mascot,” Hermione said to her, “But because the Founders thought it was too vicious of a symbol for the school, she changed it.”
“We’re traditionalists,” Harry smirked as Hedwig cawed approvingly.
“Of course,” purred Sekhmet, her accent thick. “While not the most powerful of the Founders, your appreciation of Ravenclaw is an… admirable second choice. We have one or two items that bear the mark of Ravenclaw. But a greater selection Rowena’s possessions would more likely be found in the antiques store located in the Tomb of HemInWo.”
“Well, so long as we’re here,” Harry said, glancing around. “Can we see what you do have?”
“Of course,” Sekhmet replied, and she and Wadjet stepped into the back room.
“See anything?” Harry whispered to Ron.
“Nothing,” he replied.
Hermione stepped up to the counter next to him. “You don’t honestly think they’re going to sell the you the Dagger, do you?”
“No, I don’t,” said Harry. “But I thought I’d try to press this as far as I can. It’s possible that those two aren’t Wadjet and Sekhmet, or don’t have any knowledge of the Dagger’s power. Setting that aside, if we can at least build up enough trust to let them bring it out…”
He was cut off as the two women reappeared. Both were carrying small wooden boxes, which were set down on the counter. The boxes were opened.
“As you can see,” said Sekhmet, “we have a fine gravy boat from the House of Ravenclaw. Burnished silver filigree, with the House emblem on the front. And,” she motioned to the second box. “Rowena Ravenclaw’s goblet. It is said that this was the cup from which she toasted the original founding of Hogwarts in England.”
“Hmmm,” Harry said, stretching the time as he looked from one object to the next, both worthless in his quest. “I don’t know. I was hoping to find some sort of Ravenclaw weapon. You are a weapon shop, right?”
Sekhmet and Wadjet exchanged glances. “We know of no such…”
“Oh, come on,” Harry said placatingly. “You don’t have to play coy. You have to know about Ravenclaw’s Dagger. The one that she wore till the day she died? The one that she kept with her in case the followers of Hufflepuff or Slytherin decided to pull an assassination attempt?”
“We heard from some underground collectors that you had it here,” said Ron. “No one’s come to get it, though, cuz they knew they didn’t have the money.”
Wadjet snorted. “And you do?”
Harry jingled his money pouch. “I like to think we do.”
“The Dagger is not for sale,” said Sekhmet firmly.
“So you do have it?” asked Hermione.
“It would cost more than you are willing to spend, I assure you.”
“Can we at least take a peek at it?” asked Harry. “Maybe we could make a deal.”
“It is not for sale,” Sekhmet repeated.
“Well, if you give us a look we may be more willing to buy your gravy boat,” haggled Harry. “So we can tell our family that we’ve seen the Dagger, and they haven’t?”
“My sister-in-law will be so jealous,” Ron sniggered.
Wadjet and Sekhmet looked at each other. Wadjet nodded slightly.
Sekhmet turned back to the three, and smiled darkly. “I think we can make a deal.”
“Randan!” the two sisters screamed at once. In unison, the eyes of the snake and the lioness lit up, and a surge of energy flew at them. Harry and Hermione were both hit in the chest and thrown backward. The two slammed into a glass-covered display case, which shattered beneath them. Harry’s back felt like it was on fire as fragments of glass pushed into him.
“Randan!” Wadjet repeated, this time aiming at Ron. The snake shot another bolt, but Ron, his wand out in reaction to the first attack, was prepared.
“Protego!” he yelled, and the spell launched off to his left, flying through the curtain hiding the back room. Sekhmet aimed at him to fire a spell, but fell back with a scream.
“Hedwig!” Harry yelled as the raven descended on Sekhmet, attacking the face with her newly-acquired talons.
“Petrificus Totalus!” Hermione gasped, her wand pointed at Wadjet. The woman, her eyes still transfixed on her sister’s writhing body, didn’t see it coming, and seized up instantly. She fell to the ground, her head bumping the desk as she fell.
Harry slowly pushed himself to his hands and knees. “Ron, go in back and start looking. We’ll catch up.”
Ron nodded and ran into the back room. As he crossed through the threshold, the room was filled with an unearthly wail.
“It’s an Intruder Charm!” Hermione yelled over the din. She was still lying on her back, and Harry reached down to help her up.
“Are you alright?” he asked. He looked at her back and knew the answer right away.
“My back’s cut up,” Hermione said. “Luckily we missed the spiked ball display, or it would have done some real damage.”
“Hedwig, stop!” Harry yelled. His owl-turned-raven was still attacking the flailing Sekhmet, his talons tearing at her cheeks and forehead. Hedwig reluctantly complied, but before Harry could completely disable the witch, she screamed something in Arabic. A king cobra erupted from the tip of her wand and slithered toward the pair.
“Stop,” Harry said calmly to the snake. The cobra paused in mid-slither. “Go to sleep.”
“Muffliato,” Hermione said to the door. “Colloportus. There, that ought to keep the curious folks from poking their noses in.”
“Parseltongue,” Sekhmet breathed. “My Lord, you have returned to us, your faithful servants. If you wished to have the Dagger of Ravenclaw, why did you not reveal yourself? Was it a test?”
“It wasn’t a test,” Harry said, taking her scepter. Hermione did the same with Wadjet’s. After they were both good and disarmed, Harry pulled his hood back. “And I’m not Voldemort.”
“You,” Sekhmet hissed as she saw Harry’s scar. “The Boy Who Lived. You would dare speak his name?”
“I would,” Harry said, snapping her scepter across his knee. “I’d say let him know we stopped by, but he’ll find out soon enough. And boy, is he going to be pissed off at you two.”
Hermione pointed Wadjet’s scepter at Sekhmet. “Stupefy,” she said calmly, and Sekhmet fell into unconsciousness. Hedwig fluttered down onto Harry’s shoulder as Hermione shattered the scepter on the desk. She pulled her Cowl back behind her, and her now female face smiled with relief.
“Come on,” Harry said. “Let’s get the Dagger and get out of here.”
“HARRY!!” Ron screamed from the back room. His voice was filled with such terror that Harry and Hermione both bolted without a moment of pause. Hermione reached the doorway first, and paused in shock as Harry bumped into her from behind.
“Ron!” she screamed, and ran into the room, bending over in the middle of the room. Finally Harry stepped into the back room of Khufu’s Armory Emporium, which was lined with hundreds more weapons, and was able to get look at what was happening on the floor.
Ron Weasley had fallen onto his back. His cowl had fallen away from his head, and his face was red with exertion. Hermione was standing over him, her hands wrapped around his wrist. In Ron’s hand was clutched a curved knife, its edge pointed toward his face. The two appeared to be wrestling with each other, Hermione trying to pull Ron’s arm away from him, while Ron was trying to pull it toward himself.
“Ron, let go of the knife!” Hermione screamed.
“I can’t!” he yelled back. “It won’t let me!”
Harry ran toward the pair, and joined Hermione in pulling on Ron’s arm. The arm doubled its resistance, sinking its way closer to Ron’s throat.
“It’s cursed!” said Gavin the Sorting Hat from Ron’s belt. “It’s probably not supposed to be touched by anyone but its master.”
“Analysis not helping right now, Gavin!” Ron yelled. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold it.”
“Ron!” Hermione screamed again, tugging furiously.
“We have to destroy it now!” Harry said to Hermione. “Do you have the potion and the spell?”
“Ron…” Hermione cried, face contorted as the blade drew within an inch of Ron’s neck.
“Hermione, do you have the potion and the spell?” Harry repeated. Hermione didn’t answer, just continued to scream Ron’s name as they pulled.
Dammit, Harry thought. Bad time for her to start cracking up.
“She put it in her cloak before we showed up,” Gavin said to Harry. “Right side, lower pocket.”
“Hold him as hard as you can,” Harry ordered, then released Ron’s arm. He reached around Hermione’s back and began digging through her pockets.
“Hurry up,” Ron gasped, his strength obviously waning. A half inch now. The blade hung precariously close to his Adam’s Apple.
“Not her right!” Gavin yelled to Harry. “My right!”
“Hermione,” Ron said weakly.
“I found it!” Harry said, pulling the bottle and note from her pocket. Despite the panic of the moment, he found his hands astonishingly calm as he quickly unfolded the paper.
“I love you,” said Ron. Hermione’s tears mingled with her sweat as, despite their best efforts, the knife’s blade slowly sank into Ron’s throat.
“RON!!!” Hermione cried in agony, pulling furiously as the blade sank deeper. Ron tried to speak, but only silence came from his mouth. Harry barely had time to register that there was no blood coming from the cut before he had pulled the stopper from the bottle and poured it over the half-entered Dagger.
“’Let the soul return to its own,’” Harry read frantically. “To Death comes Life. Adava Kevadra!”
A howling noise erupted from the Dagger, quickly drowning out both Hermione’s screams and the wailing of the Intruder Charm. The Dagger of Ravenclaw glowed a sickly green color, then turned to ash, which fell harmlessly in a line along Ron’s neck and hand.
“Ron…” Hermione gasped, lifting Ron’s lifeless body in her arms. “Wake up… Please…”
“Ron, mate,” Harry said, falling to his knees beside him. His voice was shaking “Wake up, man.”
“Please,” Hermione said, her voice filled with sorrow. “Don’t be dead. Please wake up.”
Harry pulled her arm away, and pressed his finger against his neck. “He’s alive,” he said quietly, which Hermione responded to with a cry of relief, pressing Ron’s face to her shoulder. “Just unconscious.”
“Ron…” Hermione continued to whisper.
“We have to go,” Harry said to her. “We have to get out of here.” Hermione just continued to moan Ron’s name. She had begun to rock back and forth in a way that was making Harry nervous. Pig, who had clawed his way out of Ron’s pocket, was fluttering around Ron’s head, hooting sadly.
Harry looked through the door to the back room and toward the entrance to the shop. We can’t go out that way, he thought anxiously. Even if we could drape Ron’s body with an Invisibility Cloak, there’s no way we’d be able to support him on our brooms. We can’t take him to a hospital, and there’s nowhere we can take the Floo Network that won’t put us back into civilization.
“Right,” he said, partially to himself. “We’re Apparating.”
“Are you daft?” Gavin screamed. “Where are we going to Apparate? You don’t know the area; you have no idea where we’re going to land that’s not in the middle of a city. Not to mention the fact that we’ll be raising about a thousand red flags.”
“Fuck em,” said Harry as he wrapped his arms around Ron and Hermione, the latter of which barely noticed he was there. “We’re going to the next checkpoint,”
“The next checkpoint,” said Gavin. “In Italy. A thousand miles away. With four of us.”
“Hedwig,” Harry said, “You and Pig are on your own. Find us, okay?”
Hedwig cawed in response, and Harry pointed his wand toward the door. “Alohamora,” he uttered as the door flew open. Hedwig launched to the outside and the Giza Necropolis. Pigwidgeon, looking nervously down at his master, slowly took flight and followed behind her.
“Bugger it,” said the Hat. “Just drop me off here, I’ll find my way back to Hogwarts.”
“Quiet,” Harry ordered, and closed his eyes.
Destination Determination Deliberation Destination Determination Deliberation Destination Determination Deliberation.
Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and Gavin the Sorting Hat disappeared from Khufu’s Armory Emporium, leaving nothing behind but two Death Eaters, two broken magical scepters, and the remains of the Dagger of Ravenclaw, Lord Voldemort’s fourth Horcrux.
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