The aftermath was a mess, but fortunately Longbottom and Weasley, British Ministry employees at large, were able to smooth over our actions. While the Egyptian Ministry officially didn't condone wizards using magic in front of muggles even in a crisis if they could just leave the scene, they admitted that it was already a pretty bad breach of the Statute of Secrecy that we hadn't really made any worse. I got the impression that their muggle government liaisons were pretty happy with us for jumping in to help. But actually praising us would have set a bad precedent. So they basically just quietly ignored us for the rest of our trip.

Whatever the shield was in the museum, it quickly and quietly disappeared into Egypt's version of the Department of Mysteries. We were able to get in touch with Bill Weasley and tell him about it in time for him to get more of a look at the similar shield in Abu Simbel before the government strong armed Gringotts into giving that one up too.

Bill had come into Cairo for the last few days of our vacation, fresh off his stint guarding the secret chambers of the Giza pyramids, and we discussed it at lunch one day. The entire extended Weasley/Gryffindor/Order of the Phoenix vacation group was spread across multiple tables in the back of an "American Cafe" that did acceptable hamburgers and fries. After a month in a foreign country, we'd all gotten a little bored of expanding our culinary horizons and were in the mood for something familiar. Michael had been invited, and was clearly completely bemused by how quickly the Weasleys would make anyone into honorary family, even a mysterious muggle swordsman possibly on a mission from God.

"I only have so many relevant diagnostics," Bill explained, gesturing with a french fry, "but I didn't find anything to disagree with your assumptions, Harry. And the other shield-type artifacts we've found have generally suited form to function, providing some kind of defensive effect. This one is providing some kind of wide-scale protection, not unlike a wardstone. I'm surprised it's not physically anchored in a temple or obelisk."

"Is moving both of them to the same vault going to weaken the overall protection?" I asked. I worried that if it was somehow shoring up the local Veil, it needed to be distributed.

"No?" Bill shrugged. "The one in the museum had clearly been moved around quite a bit. There's hints of some of the kind of deep, conceptual ties that powerful artifacts have. It might have been dangerous for them to leave the country, but moving around within it wouldn't be too bad. Frankly, I'm not sure it's actively doing much. It might just have enough invested meaning that it could be used in a ritual to try to weaken whatever it had originally been used for."

"Fair," I said, taking a drink of my real sugar Coke. "I'm not actually sure the Veil was erected until the Middle Ages. These could have been used for other national defensive magics and it's just similar enough that it would work. Or the Veil here could be tied into those old national wards?"

Mr. Weasley just shook his head. "I just have a hard time wrapping my head around all of this. We've been focused on the threat of dark wizards, You-Know-Who in particular, for so long… I don't know if any of the wizarding nations are prepared to adapt to attacks from beings we literally think of as fairy tales."

"At the very least," Mrs. Longbottom suggested, "we can put pressure on the Department of Mysteries to start taking this kind of thing seriously."

Mr. Longbottom added, "We might be able to spin it in a way they'll accept: multiple attempts by dark wizards on these two shields, so we need to identify and protect any similar artifacts that they might go after in Britain. I think the Wizengamot will go for allocating a bit of funding for that. And we can tell Saul over in the DoM what he should really be looking for."

Mrs. Weasley asked, "Michael, is there anything else your people can do on your side of things?"

The big man shook his head, "I'm more in the crisis management business. I don't exactly have a support staff like your lot. The very fact that I was sent here to thwart these attempts means that they could have been really bad. But it could have just been because I was supposed to prevent the side effects of an army of the undead and magically-augmented terrorism. I don't know if I'll keep getting orders to help with the fae situation in general, or just if they try more really deadly distractions."

"So…" I summarized, "if we see you or another guy with a holy sword, we're probably running out of time to handle the problem with research?"

"Pretty much," he shrugged. "Sometimes I do take normal vacations."

"You should come visit!" Mrs. Weasley gushed. "We could put you up. Your kids would love to see a quidditch match, or a magical menagerie." Hanging out with him for one morning, she'd already dug up a huge amount of information about the stoic man's family and personal life.

"It would be a hard sell to my wife," he shrugged. "But I'll see what I can do."

"Alright, big brains!" Oliver announced, grinning after having hatched a plan with the twins. "You lot done makin' a plan t'save the world? Only it's quidditch o'clock and we're gettin' everyone on brooms this time. We should be able t'field two full teams!"

"Oh, such fun," Mrs. Weasley enthused. "Michael, can you come watch?"

"Thanks for the offer, Molly, but no. I've still got to get my equipment shipped home safely before my flight out tonight."

"Well okay, but leave us your contact information!" she insisted. "We'll owl you once we're all home."

Clearly not sold on owls showing up to his muggle home, he nonetheless complied in the face of Molly Weasley. Turned out he lived in the suburbs of Chicago. Small world. I left him details for Remus' PO Box and the phone number of the Grangers, which were probably more relevant to his situation and the closest thing I had to permanent muggle contact information at the time.

Then there was nothing else to do beyond getting dragged off to the broom flying fun center and forced to play quidditch.

The Weasley kids realized they could field a full team of their own if the older brothers played as chasers (much to Percy's discomfiture). Oliver did the best he could putting together his own team, but running Draco as his seeker was the only option he had for anyone that really played quidditch, though Alexis was an enthusiastic amateur. That left me and Mathilda as beaters and Penny and Hermione trying not to fall off their brooms as the other two chasers.

Somehow, Neville and Luna proved that the two muggleborn girls (and me) were better options. Neville really could fall off a broom that wasn't going faster than a walking pace, and Luna got distracted very quickly. Neville's little sister, Julia, was still too young to be in a full-on quidditch game.

We were awful and got thoroughly trounced by the Weasleys while Oliver and Draco pulled their hair out at how bad the rest of us were. It was good times.

A couple of days before we were supposed to head home, Luna's father showed up from whatever expedition he'd been on over the summer, and invited everyone interested on a day trip to try to find the elusive crocodile men of the Nile. Fortunately, we didn't find any. I didn't think I was prepared to fight lizard people after everything else that month.

Mr. Lovegood managed to corner me on the banks of the Nile during part of the trip, while everyone else was disembarking from the barge he'd chartered, and asked, "Mr. Dresden. Is there any truth to the rumor that you and Sirius Black became bitter enemies during your stay at Azkaban prison?"

"Wait, what?" I asked, confused. "I was there for a few hours, in minimum security. I don't think I came anywhere near the guy?"

He nodded a bit frenetically, his long silver hair bouncing across his shoulders, "I thought as much, but good journalism insisted I confirm. I suspect that the Rotfang Conspiracy is floating that idea rather than admit that he's after you because of the more simple explanation that You-Know-Who needs to eliminate you as part of his shadow war against the faeries."

None of that made much sense. If anything, given that my godmother and Lucius Malfoy worked for both of them, and Mavra had at least seemed to be double-dipping trying to kill me for Voldemort while stealing the shield for the fae, I was a bit worried that the winter fae might be trying to help Voldemort in some way. Not that I could explain that, even if I wanted to, because of the geas against revealing my godmother's secrets. But then I latched onto, "What do you mean, he's after me?"

"Oh, yes! I have it on good authority! He somehow got a copy of the Daily Prophet that featured your group picture, was heard to mutter, 'He's at Hogwarts,' then escaped the next day. After your activities of the last couple of years, as little as the administration wants to admit you've faced You-Know-Who on multiple occasions, it seems apparent to everyone that you're the obvious target of his top lieutenant."

"Man," I sighed. Of course, having thwarted the last batch of Death Eaters, another one would escape out of prison to ruin my year. "I was hoping for one year off from these guys."

"Not to worry! I hear they're going to station dementors around the school to prevent him access." I boggled at him, and he amended, "Wait, I don't mean not to worry, I mean it gets worse! I'm personally affronted. Luna is there! The Quibbler will be running a multi-part series about the dangers of dementors to try to drum up public support."

He began regaling me with information about dementors that I was pretty sure only about a quarter of which was true. A deranged escaped Death Eater coming after me. Dementors for my protection.

I'd just wanted to have one quiet year. Was that too much to ask?