"What do you mean we're getting a representative from the British Ministry to shadow us?" the redhead asked, irritation obvious in his voice.
The wizened old man sitting in front of him sighed, removing his spectacles and laying them on the desk. "I don't like this any better than you, William, you know that. But we have no choice in the matter – your Ministry and Gringotts have reached an agreement, and we must comply."
At the obvious exhaustion in the demeanour of the man, Bill sighed, the fight draining out of him. He collapsed into the comfortable chair that stood on his side of the desk for precisely that purpose – old he might have been, but there was no one in their camp who could claim that Professor Baruti was not as sharp now as he had been at the prime of his life.
"And who are they sending? What department? Or is that something else that they plan on springing on us at the last moment?" he asked tiredly. There were a million reasons that the Ministry could be interfering in the dig, and none of them were good. And the last thing he wanted was to be the person saddled with making sure the bureaucrat who would undoubtedly be sent didn't kill himself in one of the tombs, but he doubted that he was going to be able to avoid that fate.
Unexpectedly, the professor's face twisted for a single moment at his question before he composed himself once more. "A representative from the beast division of your Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Apparently, your government is looking to hire the services of a sphinx."
That explained it, at the very least. The professor had always been vociferous in his protection of what he believed to be Egyptian treasures, whether they be animate or not. The fact that the British Ministry viewed sphinxes are beasts would already have annoyed him – that they had somehow managed to get permission to try and hire a creature that they did not respect had undoubtedly infuriated him.
The following few weeks were going to be – interesting, to say the least.
He could hardly wait.
The first impression he had of the portly man that the Ministry had sent was utter disbelief. He had not thought that it was possible for the Ministry to become even more incompetent than it had been when he had last been in England, but it was obvious that that had been a mistaken assumption.
"Mr Weasley, I believe?" the man said as soon as he saw him. "Good, good, I believe we are all set now. I am sure we all want to be done with this awful business as soon as possible – how long do you think it will take you to corral the beast in question?"
The surprise quickly turned into shock – it seemed that he had somehow managed to overestimate the man. "What on earth are you talking about, Mr Ravensdale? I was led to believe that I was here in order to aid you in convincing a sphinx to return to England with you."
"Yes, yes, that's exactly what I'm talking about. The Egyptians have agreed that if one agrees, we can export it for the duration of the Tournament, and I'm sure that you have a suitable specimen in mind to capture. We must make this as quick as possible – this blasted heat is not at all good for me, and I'm eager to return home."
"Mr Ravensdale," Bill said, speaking as calmly as he could in the face of the man's speech, "Regardless of the British Ministry's stance on the matter, sphinxes are not mindless beasts. They are rather intelligent creatures, and simply trapping one like an animal will not help you in convincing one to return with you. You will only succeed in angering her, and that would not be the best of things to do. I shall meet you here at dawn tomorrow, and we shall attempt to find and convince one of the sphinxes to return to England with you – if you do not manage to do so, I am afraid not even the Egyptian Ministry will be able to procure one for you."
The man continued to bluster behind him, protesting the change in his prepared schedule, but Bill ignored him. As much as he hated it, it was probably for the best that he was the one tasked with teaching the man what he needed to know. At least he was well acquainted with the way that his Ministry of Magic functioned – if Professor Baruti or one of the other Egyptian dig members had heard him…Well. A war between England and Egypt would certainly put a dent on his career prospects; that much was for certain.
There was a reason that Bill had chosen to become a curse-breaker, despite his mother's preference that he apply for safe desk job at Gringotts instead. He was good at understanding the patterns that the kings and pharaohs had used to protect their burial places, and most of all, he enjoyed the danger that came with the job.
Charlie satisfied his need for excitement by flying dragons. For Bill, there was nothing better than escaping undead mummies, cliché as that image might have been.
Despite the love he bore his job, however, he was almost certain that he had never enjoyed it as much as he was today.
He had been certain that having a Ministry lackey around would only serve to ruin his day, but he had forgotten just how pampered they were. Having one of them terrified out of his wits while he guided him around some of the oldest and darkest temples he could think of – well, no one ever claimed that Bill Weasley was a saint.
"And when do you suppose that we will come across one of the beasts?" Ravensdale asked, nearly screaming in his terror of the tomb.
Bill could have groaned. Of all the things to say about a guardian of temples in the middle of one the places they were meant to look after-
"It has been a long time since one of the children of Set set foot in my domain," a voice mused from the shadows. The stones of the temple creaked as the source of the sound moved closer to them. "Still, I suppose you do not have control over the stars, so I can forgive you for that. You may address me as Neith."
"My thanks, lady," Bill murmured in reply when the sphinx became completely visible. Behind him, Ravensdale was shuddering in fear, face white and staring at the sphinx as those he was seeing all the ghosts from his past come to life again.
When she turned her gaze towards him, Bill was convinced that the man was ready to kneel over. He definitely looked like he would prefer anything else, even death, to standing where he was.
"Had this been the Egypt of long ago," Neith mused, "I would have been well within my rights to kill you where you stood for the insult offered to me. Had this been Greece – well, the fault would have been doubly yours, for they at least knew better than to anger my kin and me. Yet we must evolve with the times, so you should be grateful that is me who is here, and at this time – even now, some of my kin would kill you without thinking twice of it."
Everything the man had told him the previous day seemed to have fled him, and he seemed utterly incapable of speech in the face of Neith's words. Bill knew that he shouldn't have been enjoying the spectacle as much as was, but he couldn't help himself.
Which was why he spoke his next words – Ravensdale would think he was helping him, but he would know better. He doubted the man was ready for what he was about to face, but as far as Bill was concerned, it was ultimately his own fault. No one searched for sphinxes without being well versed in their history.
"My companion has a request for you," he said, eyes firmly on Neith. "The British Ministry of Magic has need for the help of a sphinx, and he is here to request you aid."
A whimper of fear was the only agreement that the man was ready to offer.
"Pretty words," Neith replied, "But worthless. Requests are worthless – if he truly wishes for my aid, then he must first answer my question. Tell me," she said, turning her attention to Ravensdale once more, "Have you any mastery with riddles?"
The way the man was wordlessly staring at Neith, Bill had to wonder if he would ever be able to speak again. As far as he was concerned, if the answer to that question was negative, she would already have done England a greater favour than could ever be repaid.
"It does not matter," she finally declared. "Answer you must, if you wish for my aid. None of kind would help one without wit. Solve for me this:
This thing all things devours:
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;
Gnaws iron, bites steel;
Grinds hard stones to meal;
Slays king, ruins town,
And beats high mountain down.
What is it?"
How Neith thought Ravensdale would reply, Bill wasn't sure. Even if he had been able to puzzle out the answer – a possibility that Bill thought was less likely than You-Know-Who returning and deciding to shift occupations to become a house-elf's assistant – there was no prospect of him being able to speak even the single word that she was looking for.
Still, he knew better than to get in the middle of a sphinx's riddle immediately – perhaps Ravensdale would surprise him. It was only when Neith started getting impatient that he could safely interfere. Until then, the only thing he could do was watch and enjoy himself as much as he could.
Of course, his initial impression of Ravensdale's mental talents proved accurate. Though he was still incapable of speech, he had somehow managed to gather himself enough to shake his head. That coupled with the quizzical look on his face told his two observers all that they needed to know.
When Neith turned her gaze to him, Bill smiled. "The answer is time."
"Indeed," she replied, bowing her head faintly before turning. "Should you still wish for the aid of any of my kin," she told Ravensdale, "It would be expedient for you to send one who understands our ways better, and possesses at least a modicum of wit and intelligence."
And before Ravenswood – his face now turning purple at what was obviously a dismissal by a creature he considered far beneath him – could finally work up enough rage to reply, she had disappeared.
"Well?"
"I'm afraid we should prepare ourselves for another visitor from the British Ministry, Professor," Bill replied.
"So it went as expected?" the man in front of him asked.
"It was an even greater disaster than you predicted," he replied frankly. "Maybe next time the Ministry will send someone better prepared, but I don't hold out hope."
"I'm sure that they will eventually grow weary enough to simply ask us to manage it all," Professor Baruti mused, "But until then, I see no reason not to allow Neith to continue having her fun. Besides, it will help them grow the character that they so clearly lack."
Bill smirked. Really, he shouldn't be looking forward to next Ministry visitor – but then, he had never claimed to be the saint of his family. That was Percy's job. As for him – well, there was a reason that the twins knew Hogwarts so well, and it had nothing to do with the map they had found.
He had no doubt that the next few weeks were going to most entertaining of his career.
A/N: A couple of things:
The name 'Baruti' means 'teacher'
Neith is an early Egyptian goddess of war
The riddle is, of course, from The Hobbit. All the credit for its brilliance goes to JRR Tolkein.
Written for the The Hunger Games: Fanfic Style Competition and the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, using the prompts ghost and "Stories of imagination tend to upset those without one" - Terry Pratchett
This was inspired by the chapter 'The Other Minister' in book 6 - the part where Fudge talks about exporting a sphinx. I had to wonder how that came about, and since they seemed to be talking before the Quidditch World Cup, I decided that Bill had to have had a part in it all. This is set at the end of the Trio's third year, so that they have enough time to confuse the Ministry a bit more before Bill had to return to England for the cup.
I hope you guys liked it! As always, please don't forget to drop off a review on your way out :)