Author's Notes: Wow! The reviews for the last chapter were just…wow. I feel so much better about this fic and its plot now. Everything I think of sounds stupid to me, so that's why I desperately need feedback. It's like "Hey, maybe I'll do my homework," and then I think, "No way, that sounds stupid to me…" Ahem. Anyways, I love you guys.*Sniff*

Okay, first of all, either fanfic.net or Microsoft Word (damn you, Microsoft…first the floppy disk, now this!) are messed up, because, as you've probably noticed, the last few chapters have had gigantic spaces between paragraphs. I dunno how to fix it, so please bear the mother of a space between each paragraph.

Second of all, I apologize for the frequent shifts of POV that are going to be in the chapters to follow. I realized that this story isn't going to work unless I switch POV's a couple of times. So, apologies all around. JKR I ain't.

Third of all (you're probably sick of these notes by now)…exams are over!!! As is the semester from hell! *SP does a little happy dance to the Rocky theme*

Yeah, that's right, Rocky theme. Dun. Dun dun dun. Dun dun dun. Dun dun DAAAA!

…Enjoy the chapter. ^_^

***

Footsteps echoed through the empty hallways as a handsome man, well-groomed and well-dressed, walked through them. The house was relatively dark, though house was perhaps not the best word to describe it - a mansion, perhaps, by most people's standards. Beautiful portraits hung on the panelled walls, and an expensive collection of art lined the corridors - an elegant sculpture here, a woven tapestry there.

Dameon Stark knew that his grandfather had been quite the art buff, preferring to spend his evenings in the parlour, swirling a glass of brandy around and speaking of the things that interested him – art, history, and politics. Dameon's family had always had many of the finer things in life, but it hadn't been enough. His grandfather had always been nagged by the sense that they had been robbed of a privilege; the privilege to walk in public, wearing their elegant robes, or the privilege to showcase their mansion and all their fine things to the poorer folks who lived in the village. Instead they had to skulk around like common thieves, and charm their house so that it was hidden from Muggle eyes.

It wasn't fair, his grandfather had always said bitterly, that they had to hide from the Mudbloods. Wizards were the superior race, so why was it that they were in hiding? If anything, the Muggles should have been hiding from them, cowering away from their power, from their magic. This sense of injustice had nagged his grandfather a little bit more every day, finally driving him to put to use his vast knowledge of history. His grandfather discovered a secret that no one was supposed to know about; or rather, five secrets. They'd been all but erased from the history books, since those in charge did not want their power to be discovered, or worse, unleashed again. But his grandfather had been a stubborn man. What began as an interest became an obsession. What was an obsession suddenly became action. His grandfather had never dreamed that he would re-awaken an ancient organization…that those instruments of power would just fall into his hands like they had…

But then, Dameon mused as he turned a corner, perhaps the scrolls had wanted to be found. Of course, Dameon had not even been born yet. He had learned all these things later, from his father. Braeden Stark had preferred wine to brandy, and had often paced the parlour, cursing those who had thrown Dameon's grandfather into Azkaban - the same people who had sent the scrolls to different corners of the earth again, so that they would not be found. His father had tried, of course, to resurrect the Dark Hand, but had failed. His grandfather had always been the one with the power to influence people, to win them over.

After his father's death, Dameon had made a vow to succeed where his father had failed, to finish his grandfather's work, and reap the benefits that came with it – power, wealth, and the satisfaction of finally seeing the Mudbloods grovelling at their feet. But it had seemed that the gift to influence others had been lost to Dameon as well. He had been a powerless nobody, young and uninformed. Until…

Dameon stopped in front of a heavy door, which was slightly open. Inside, he could just get a glimpse of a comfortable room, the shadows of flames flickering and dancing on the wall. He pushed open the door and stood there, focusing on the fire. Though he was forever grateful and indebted to the man sitting in the chair before the hearth, he didn't like to look at him; it reminded him of what he would become. Besides, it was too queer; the idea of who that man was still baffled him. Still, he had taught Dameon everything. He had made him a someone, and he was going to make him Minister for Magic.

Dameon cleared his throat, and he saw the figure by the fire straighten. "Well?" the man in the chair asked in a deep voice, unable to keep a hint of expectancy and, perhaps, excitement out of his voice.

Dameon leaned against the panelled wall. He'd become confident and smug; after all, thousands of people did hang on his every word now. "The Muggle papers," Dameon replied, holding up the strange newspaper in his hand. "They think it's a mutated form of influenza. Nothing can seem to cure it," he smirked.

The man in the chair laughed. "Pity," he sneered.

"How much longer must we wait? The Mudbloods are weakening…and the elections are so close…"

"Patience," the figure by the fire reminded him. "If you play your cards right, we'll soon have the Muggle world in chaos – "

" – and the British wizarding world in my – our – control," Dameon finished, his eyes flickering greedily. He paused, hesitant. "But…father always said that one scroll alone was useless. We still need the other four…"

"We know where they are, and they aren't going anywhere. I told you, the perfect opportunity will come up shortly. I can't believe I missed it before…"

"Of course…of course." Smirking again, Dameon crumpled up the Muggle newspaper and threw it into the fire. The laughter of both men echoed throughout the large house.

***

The first thing Ron noticed was the feel of the air. It was somehow familiar – hot and stifling, it smelled of rot, decay, and ancientness. Ron quickly gathered his wits and flattened himself against a rough wall, trying to disappear into the shadows. He silently drew his wand, and then permitted himself to breathe, though it was nearly impossible to fill his lungs with the heavy air.

Ron allowed himself to take in his surroundings, and at first glance, his heart sunk. He wasn't sure what he was expecting to see – a tell-tale mess of black hair, perhaps – but it certainly didn't look like Egypt. Egypt had been scorching hot and bright, with miles of coarse, white sand and intense blue sky. Ron was fairly sure he was underground somewhere – cracked, dull gold walls surrounded him, and damp earth was beneath him. The entire place reeked of the past, and secrets long forgotten. The corners were completely covered in cobwebs, and beetles scurried underfoot. There was practically no light, except for the dim glow of crude torches, placed arbitrarily along the walls.

Ron began to panic; he'd obviously got it wrong. He'd trusted his gut to bring him to Harry, and he'd ended up in some cave that time forgot. Shuddering as he lifted his hand away from the wall, only to find it covered in cobwebs, Ron shook his head and strengthened his resolve. He was a Weasley, and he'd be damned if he had to go back to the Ministry and admit defeat. Clinging to a small shred of hope, Ron raised his wand.

"Lumos," he said in the barest of whispers. Light immediately burst from his wand, spilling onto the wall opposite him. Ron's heart leapt at what he saw.

Hieroglyphs.

He was in Egypt after all, possibly in some sort of pyramid or other ancient ruin. That was where he knew that smell from – the pyramids he'd visited with Bill and his family on holiday when he was a kid. Kicking at a spider scuffling up his shoe, Ron wryly remembered the twins horrifying Ginny with tales of deformed Muggle skeleton parts, and chasing him with large, Egyptian spider they'd collected in a jar.

"Nox," Ron whispered, wishing to keep his presence unknown. The existence of the few blazing torches suggested that he wasn't alone. As he tried to decide which direction would possibly take him to Harry, Ron abruptly froze. He could hear deep voices down the passageway. He began inching down the wall away from them, keeping in the shadows.

" – waste of time, if you ask me," a British voice said testily. "The word is that someone's already found it. The bloody scroll probably isn't even here."

A sound of indifference from the man's companion. "Ah, well. I'm sure that thing would've fetched a pretty price, but have you seen some of the other stuff down here?" He whistled. "The guy that was buried here could've rivalled You-Know-Who with all this dark junk."

"Aye, and some of the curses we had to break just to get in…advanced dark stuff," Ron distinctly heard the first man yawn. "Still, I don't see why we have to patrol around like this."

"Well, you know, I think Arch is on the alert after we caught that one guy snooping around…"

Ron's eyes widened and he felt both relieved and apprehensive. They had to be talking about Harry, but the situation did not sound good. Ron jerked back to reality, realizing his own situation did not look so great either. The two men were fast approaching, and he was running out of wall.

"Speaking of which, what did Arch decide to do with him?"

Ron quickly ran through his options in his mind, thinking fast. There was no escape from where he was now…he could always chance Apparating away from the two men, though he didn't know where he would go…

" – said he wasn't anything to be worried about, but…" the second man dropped his voice, and both their footsteps stopped."You know what I think, Vern?"

"What's that?"

"I swear – and don't you laugh – that that bloke is Harry Potter."

Vern, a heavyset man in his thirties or forties, did laugh, and Ron clenched his fist, thankful that they were still referring to Harry in the present tense.

"Harry Potter, my arse! You've been down here way too long, Lyle…your imagination's running away with you."

"Sure it is, when I saw the scar myself, plain as day on his forehead!"

Vern laughed again and started walking once more. "Oh, I have to see this…where is he, then?"

"In the burial chamber…Arch thought it would teach the lad a lesson if he had to stay in there, at least until we figure out what to do with him. Unlucky bloke…it's right creepy in there."

"And he's Cuffed?"

"'Course, can't have him Apparating out, can we?"

"Alright, let's go see then…Harry Potter, honestly…" The men were now dangerously close, and Ron had hit a dead end. Concealed as he was by the shadows, Ron was fairly sure that Vern and Lyle wouldn't be fooled if he just stood very, very still and pretended to be a statue. He made up his mind to attack them when they got close enough, and hope that the element of surprise would give him the upper hand. But Ron never got the chance, because the next moment a cool hand had clamped over his mouth unexpectedly, and had yanked him backwards into an opening in the wall he hadn't seen.

To Ron's surprise, his attacker quickly released him. He heard Vern and Lyle stop in front of the barely visible opening, then, seeing nothing, head back to where they'd come from. Heart hammering against his ribs, Ron whirled around, wand drawn, to meet his attacker.

At first he didn't recognize the woman standing in front of him, and nearly blasted her to smithereens. But the next second it clicked, and Ron lowered his wand, staring. Her long, black hair had all been chopped off; instead, her hair was now short, cut in chunky, black layers. She looked surprisingly small without her billowing Hogwarts robes. She still wore all black – pants and a fitted tank top – and nearly blended into the darkness behind her. As she stepped forward into the light of the single torch in the chamber, Ron could see that she had lost her pale, Hogwarts pallor. But unlike Ron's fair skin, which turned an angry, sunburnt red in the summers, hers was slightly tanned after her month in Egypt, and had a healthy glow in the light of the flame. Ron quickly snapped out of it, realizing he must have been staring.

"Weasley?" Diana Drago said in mild surprise. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Saving you and Harry's arses," Ron retorted in a hushed voice. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Vern and Lyle were really gone, then turned back to the former Potions Mistress, still surprised he hadn't recognized her. She looked healthier, more fit – but that was what happened after months of excruciating Auror physical training with Mad-Eye Moody.

Diana scoffed, arms folded. "We're fine," she said shortly.

"Yeah, like hell you are. You haven't sent word to the Ministry in a fortnight – "

"We were busy," Diana said with a slight shrug.

" – and Harry is currently serving time in King Tut's tomb."

"Arechemon."

"Bless you."

"No, Arechemon," Diana explained, rolling her eyes. "That's whose crypt we're in. Dark wizard who lived around 1300 B.C. Rumour had it that at some point someone hid one of the Scrolls in his tomb. These idiots are incredibly stupid, not to mention uninformed, and they think it's still here."

"Guess the Dark Hand beat them to it," Ron said bitterly.

"No shi – "

Both of them froze, hearing footsteps fast approaching, Ron silently cursed; they'd been talking way too loudly, and had probably attracted unwanted company. He and Diana both drew their wands, and Ron quietly extinguished the sole torch in the chamber with a whispered spell. He pressed himself up against the wall on his right, and motioned for Diana to do the same.

"I swear, I heard voices!" It was Lyle again, but from the amount of noise out in the passageway, it sounded as if he had brought back many more people than just Vern.

"Just like you saw Harry Potter – "

"Shut up, Vern."

"Where did Lyle see Harry Potter?"

"Quiet, all of you! What's this over here…?"

Ron tried not to breathe, but as it always is when one is trying very hard not to do something, it became infinitely more difficult. He physically forced his heart to slow, and took silent, shallow breaths.

"Probably just another empty chamber to confuse people." Ron could see Lyle peering into the darkened chamber. Ron slowly raised his wand, despite the fact that Diana was violently shaking her head no beside him. Ron ignored her.

"What the – " Ron leapt out of the shadows, startling Lyle. Lyle's companions swore, and the reedy man quickly fumbled for his wand. Ron instantly reacted, kicking Lyle's wand out of his hand, and then Stunning him with his own wand. Lyle was thrown backwards by the impact of Ron's spell, into the men clustered around the entrance. There was a definite crack as an unconscious Lyle flew into his companions, who stumbled backwards, bewildered.

Not thinking about the fact that there was one of him and about four of them, Ron used the distraction to leap over the Lyle's unconscious body, now lying on the ground, and into the passageway. Breathing hard, eyes blazing, and with a slight grin, Ron held his wand ready.

The former Auror immediately ducked as a Disarming spell was sent his way, and then jumped back up and aimed another Stunning spell at the man on his right. He whirled and Disarmed the two on his left, then spun once more, just in time for a blue flash of light to blind him. Ron was thrown backwards into the wall behind him by the blue energy, and his head exploded with pain as it hit the hard wall. His vision swimming, Ron could barely make out the two men he'd disarmed picking up their wands, while Vern advanced towards him, stepping over Lyle and the other man Ron had Stunned. Vern had just raised his wand when he was suddenly thrown off his feet, slipping backwards and falling to the ground. Diana had entered the fray. Vern scrambled upwards, his face shiny with sweat, and Ron managed to clear his head and get over to Diana. The two Aurors stood back-to-back as the three men that were left circled around them slowly, waiting to see who would make the first move.

It happened to be Ron. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, Ron raised his wand again just as Vern did.

"Kinetica!"

"Ralsmardes!"

Their spells collided and ricocheted off each other, lighting up the dim passageway with brilliant flashes of green and blue. Diana started swapping curses with the other two men, who seemed to have come to their senses and had created blocking charms to rebound her spells. Amidst all the yelling, Ron heard Diana's voice rise up over the other deep, male voices, and then distinctly heard a shield shatter. One of the men Diana had been facing fell to the ground with a thump.

"Expelliarmus!" Vern and their other remaining opponent immediately shouted at the same time. Both of the Aurors' wands sailed into the air. Ron whirled and deftly caught Diana's, then tossed it back to her, but his wand wasn't so lucky. It clattered to the ground a fair few feet down the passageway.

Ron swore and turned to face Vern with only his fists as a weapon. He dodged a spell then swung his fist into his attacker's stomach with all his might. Vern clutched his gut and dropped his wand, looking winded. Slowly raising his head and now looking furious, Vern hurled himself at Ron, fists flying. Ron managed to duck his enemy's first swing and block another before he got in a punch of his own. Surprisingly, Ron's fist connected with Vern's nose with a satisfying crunch. The beefy man stumbled a few feet backward, and Ron rushed forward, managing to knock Vern out with another well-placed hit to the head.

Ron turned back to Diana, his knuckles considerably redder than they were before, only to see her successfully Stun their final opponent. The last man fell to the ground, and an eerie silence prevailed.

Ron ran a hand through his hair, gazing at the unconscious bodies strewn around them. "Nice work," he commented coolly to Diana. He took a step backward and felt something snap beneath his shoe. Ron moaned as he glanced down and saw it was his wand.

"You're rusty," Diana returned flatly, gingerly stepping over Vern's body. She started to purposefully walk away. Ron stared after her, shaking his head in disbelief, and then sadly picked up his broken wand.

"Not again," he muttered, gazing mournfully at the two halves. He pocketed what was left of his wand and hurried after Diana, resisting the urge to wring her little neck.

"Wait up," Ron called after her. "Where do you think you're going?"

"For a stroll," Diana replied sarcastically, allowing him to catch up to her. "I'm going to find Potter, you idiot."

"Do you know where you're going?"

Diana stopped, folding her arms. "No," she finally said after a long pause. Ron briefly smirked.

"They're keeping him in the burial chamber," he explained quietly, not eager to attract more of Vern and Lyle's friends. "Do you know where that is?"

Diana wrinkled her forehead. "I might. Potter and I studied maps of this site before he came to check it out."

"So why did Harry come alone?" Ron asked accusingly.

"Because I was in Cairo, monitoring this group's activities there," Diana replied, looking irritated, "and Potter didn't want to wait for me."

"Figures," Ron muttered to himself. Harry was too impatient when it came to this sort of thing, and if he couldn't get help right away, would rush into it alone. It wasn't that Harry didn't want help; he just didn't like to burden others. Everything was somehow his fault, and he always felt the need to rectify it himself.

Meanwhile, Diana had briefly closed her eyes, thinking hard. "The burial chamber was north-east," Diana decided, her eyes flying open. She performed the Four-Point spell; both of them watched the wand spin rapidly then abruptly stop, pointing straight ahead. Ron immediately started heading right.

"Wait," Diana hissed, grabbing his cloaks. "God, you're just like him, rushing into everything. Listen, this place is crawling with people – they've all been on the alert since Potter was caught."

The more Ron thought about it, the stranger it seemed; Harry rarely got caught. But Diana had drawn her wand and was muttering an incantation.

"What're you – woah." Ron lifted his hand to his face, only to discover that he had no hand. Diana, too, had disappeared completely.

"Invisibility charm," her disembodied voice explained, not without a trace of smugness. "Follow me." Ron heard footsteps walking away, and feeling queer, he followed the sound. This was nothing like the Invisibility Cloak – that had felt safe, and Harry, or Hermione, or both of them had always been there with him. This made him feel detached and unreal. Ron shook his head and tried to concentrate on the sound of Diana's footsteps, watching for any sign of unwanted company.

"Careful," Ron suddenly whispered to where he thought Diana was, remembering both his trip to Egypt and Vern's earlier words. "Places like this are full of curses and dark magic to keep Muggles and thieves out."

"I know that," Diana snapped, but Ron thought he heard her footsteps slow a bit and tread more carefully from then on.

"It's here," Ron suddenly murmured, stopping. He needn't have said anything, because Diana's footsteps had also abruptly ceased. "He's here."

Another few muttered words and Diana had re-appeared in front of him. Ron moved his hands in front of his face, thankful to see that they were still freckled and intact. He checked the passageway for any sign of guards or the sort, and then looked to where Diana was gazing intently.

They had stopped in front of what looked like a solid wall, hieroglyphs and drawings covering every inch of it. But as Ron reached out a hand to tentatively touch the wall, he felt a definite crack in its surface. Feeling excited, Ron took a step backwards and drew his wand from his pocket, forgetting that it was in pieces.

"Appareci – " he began, but Diana snatched the thin piece of wood out of his hands.

"I wouldn't do that," she advised coldly, casting Ron's broken wand aside and drawing her own. "Alohomora."

The wall remained intact. Ron gave the former Potions Mistress an expectant look.

"Apparecium," she tried in a whisper. "Apriso! Verdanore!"

"Oh, hell!" Ron cried out in frustration, kicking the wall. Diana winched visibly; Ron's yell, as well as the sound of his boot connecting with the stone, echoed throughout the silent passageways. However, once the echo had faded, an amazing thing happened – a section of the wall began to slide away, revealing a chamber behind it. Giving Diana a superior look, Ron stepped inside and caught his breath.

He only just had time to notice the thick blanket of cobwebs covering the room, the lone stone table in the centre, and what looked suspiciously like a coffin in one corner before he saw Harry. He was sitting in a corner, as far away from the coffin as possible. Looking dirty, dishevelled, unshaven and weak, the Boy Who Lived wearily raised his head as Diana quickly strode over to him. Behind them, the wall that had hidden the chamber was slowly closing shut.

"Hey," Harry said hoarsely to Diana, struggling to get up. He hadn't yet noticed Ron. "'Bout time," Harry said with a weak grin. Diana bent down to examine the cuffs around his wrists, which were glowing dully in the dark room.

Harry's face turned grim. "You shouldn't have come," he said seriously.

"Oh, alright then," Diana replied cynically, examining the cuffs from another angle. "I'll just leave then."

Harry grinned weakly and then sighed, resting his head on the wall behind him and wincing as he did so. Suddenly Ron staggered, feeling the emotions from his former partner crash over him. Fatigue, hunger, weakness, and an acute sense of failure, of defeat. Shaking his head to clear it, Ron stepped forward, the mark on his wrist throbbing painfully.

"Ron?" Harry croaked, lifting his head and looking shocked. "What…why're you…?"

"I'm here to rescue you," Ron replied importantly, giving Diana a dirty look behind her back.

All three Aurors suddenly froze, glancing towards the closed entrance to the burial chamber. There were voices on the other side of the wall, and footsteps fast approaching. The noise Ron had created by kicking the door had apparently drawn visitors.

"Well done," Harry managed to say sarcastically.

"Well come on, let's Apparate out of here, then," Ron said urgently, crossing over to his partner.

"He can barely stand up, Weasley," Diana snapped. "How would he Apparate? Besides," she added, lifting Harry's cuffed wrists, "he's Cuffed. He can't Apparate with these on." She stood, pointing her wand at the restraints. "Alohomora!" she tried. Nothing happened; Diana's wand didn't even spark. She frowned at it.

"Damn!" Ron swore as something clicked. "It's a no-magic zone. Bill told me about these."

Harry looked worried. "Can you two still Apparate out?"

Ron frowned, rubbing his chin. The sounds of muffled footsteps was beginning to get louder. "I think so," he decided, "it's just our wands that are useless. But don't talk like that, mate, we'll get you out of these." He peered closely at Harry's cuffed wrists.

"Get me out into the passageway, then," Harry said quickly, struggling to stand. Diana bent down again to help her partner up. She slung one of Harry's arms around her shoulder and tried to support his weight. Ron had a feeling they'd starved him, perhaps even tortured him. He winced, trying to block out the strong pain radiating off his best friend. Outside, the footsteps and voices were getting ever closer.

"I don't think that's the best of ideas," Diana pointed out.

An idea hit Ron. He stepped closer to the raven-haired Auror, extending his hand towards her hair. Diana instinctively jerked her head backwards, looking at Ron as if he was mad.

"What do you think you're doing?" she snapped, adjusting Harry's weight on her shoulders. Harry, however, was watching Ron intently, and nudged Diana to silence her. She went very stiff as Ron plucked something out of her hair. A short, black lock fell into her face as Ron removed a simple bobby pin that had been keeping it out of her eyes.

Ron stuck the pin into the heavy cuffs and jiggled it around a bit. There were voices at the closed entrance. Harry's eyes were fixed on the heavy stone wall, and he winced as he heard it starting to slowly open again, the heavy stone scraping across the ground. Suddenly, a satisfying click resounded throughout the chamber.

"The twins were good for something!" Ron exclaimed triumphantly as the cuffs fell to the ground with a heavy clunk. All three of them whipped their heads around as group of armed men chose that second to burst into the burial chamber.

The men blinked; where three people had just stood, there was now emptiness and silence.

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Yes! This was the absolute most fun chapter to write! And I was totally singing the Indiana Jones theme in my head when Ron was snooping around the tomb. C'mon, you know you were too.

Sorry for the lack of Hermioneness in this chapter. But, to make up for it, here's a review song. Justin Timberlake is finally good for something.

*Random opera guy starts singing. Oh, Justin Timberlake, you crazy fool.*

You just have to say, what you think.

You already know, I love your re-views!

Now it's just your chance,

For you to be, real good to me.

Review because you know I looove it…

Tell me you hate it, tell me you love it, in reviews.

Now you tell me you need me, to write like a banshee, and update soon.

Guys I refuse, you must have me confused, with some other author.

But I'll sure write fast, it'll be a blast, if you all review.

So review me a river!

Review me a riv-er!

Review me a river!

Review me a riv-er, yeah, yeah…