~Spring~

"Oi! Anne! Coming to the game this afternoon?" Ron's voice rang out across the lawn. I glanced around to see if any students had heard the informality; luckily, the courtyard was deserted. I smiled briefly, waving at him. He trotted up to me, still tugging at the laces of his black-and-white referee's uniform. I swatted his hands away playfully and tied the laces in a neat bow.

"I don't think so, Ron. I promised Hermione I'd visit today. I think she's fobbing Sara off on Flitwick again, since it's Saturday and all." Ron grinned broadly; he was head over heels for his daughter, but often said that Hermione needed to get more rest. I hugged him quickly and hurried the rest of the way across the courtyard.

I slipped into the Great Hall just ahead of Dumbledore and settled myself at the far end of the faculty table. The other professors filed in; Severus took his usual seat beside me, and Hermione sat on the other side. As breakfast appeared, we chatted about our classes, certain students, the upcoming Spring holidays. Halfway through the meal, the post arrived, owls of every description swooping and diving around the room.

A sudden hush echoed through the hall. A strange bird hurtled into the hall, sweeping silent and low over the frightened students. Snape rose halfway from his chair; Hermione ducked below the edge of the table as the bird soared past us. I shoved myself away from the table, strode to the center of the room, and raised my arm, calling to the bird in Arabic.

"Bilal. Come." The massive bird settled onto my wrist, shaking rusty black feathers onto the floor. The bird was hideous; dirty black feathers topped by a snaky, wrinkly red neck that supported a head partially thatched with grayish feathers. Two yellow eyes blinked foully from the bird's head. It eyed me and clicked its beak.

I untied the message tube from the bird's scaly leg, trying to avoid the carrion-soaked breath. The bird hopped onto my shoulder, nibbling at my ear. I winced as he bit down a little too hard.

"Bilal. Stop that. Go home. Tell him I'll send a reply–if needed– by Nejat." I waved my hand at the horrid thing, startling it into flight. I looked up from the tube; every face in the hall gaped at me. I smiled, signaling that all was well, and returned to my place at the table.

Hermione tugged at my sleeve. "Anne, what was that...thing?" I smiled at the revulsion in her voice.

"That, dearest, was a hooded vulture. Nasty, foul-tempered things that happen to be unshakably loyal to a single person."

Severus frowned. "Who would have such a disgusting bird?"

My brow wrinkled. "They make very unobtrusive messengers in the desert. There's always something dying somewhere, so a vulture wouldn't really be noticed. Bilal belongs to an old acquaintance, someone that I worked with in the wars." I pried the lid off the tube with a fingernail and unrolled the long strip of parchment on the table. It was densely covered in flowing Arabic script written in a dialect that I had to struggle to remember. The others continued eating as I slowly deciphered the message.

I felt my stomach roll over in a queasy motion. I felt light-headed, like I was floating just above my body. The room seemed dim, the sound of students muffled and distant. I stared at the parchment, reread it over and over, willing myself to have mistranslated.

I was only vaguely aware that the students had left the room. The professors lingered over cups of tea or coffee, exchanging pleasantries. I closed my eyes, a last-ditch effort to wake up from what was rapidly becoming a nightmare. A dull, familiar ache throbbed between my eyes; I pressed my fingers to the rotten pain and breathed deeply.

I heard Severus' voice as if from a great distance. He touched my shoulder, shaking me slightly when I didn't answer him. I turned to him; his face was puzzled and slightly concerned.

"Anne? What is it? Is it bad news?" Hermione leaned over my shoulder to glance at the scrap, but although I had been teaching her Arabic, I knew she wouldn't be able to read this dialect. I rose from my seat, feeling suddenly years older. Severus rose also, gripping my arm. Hermione and Dumbledore closed in around me. I stared blankly into Severus' eyes.

"It's from the Ministry. I've been recalled to duty."

~~~~~~

Severus paced our rooms, his inky robes whipping behind him like thunderclouds. "I do not understand why you are even considering this, Anne. Whatever they say, you do not owe the Ministry anything; not more time, not one last assignment, nothing."

Dumbledore leaned forward from a chair by the fire. "Miss Llewellyn. Perhaps it would be useful if you explained to us, as far as you are able, the nature of the assignment and the necessity of your involvement."

I sighed. "It's not exactly classified information, Albus, since it has really nothing to do with our world at all. At least, not yet." I added the latter hastily, intercepting Severus' next objection. "They need me in Egypt. There's a religious leader there, some kind of prophet, who claims that he is the Mahdi– the Messiah. He's preaching some pretty nasty things– anti-Semitism, end of the world, uprising, reclaiming the faith, that sort of thing."

I peeled off my djellabah and hung it on the back of the door. I slid my feet out of my thin leather slippers and padded across the bare stone floor to start tea. Halfway to the other room, I stopped to answer a knock on the corridor door. Hermione and Ron piled into the room, followed closely by Harry; the two men were still in their Quidditch referee uniforms, while Hermione struggled to restrain Sara. I took Sara from her mother and continued on to make tea.

I rattled around in the kitchenette for a few minutes, heating water and entertaining Sara with a Moroccan rattle. She looked sleepy, so I strung a woven sling over one shoulder and arranged her against my chest. Moving cautiously, I carried the tea tray back to the sitting room. Hermione took the tray from me so I could settle into my usual chair.

Severus was still livid. "What possible reason could you have for doing this? Surely you aren't interested in the workings of Muggle superstition?" He towered over me, arms crossed, scowling fiercely.

I sighed. "Actually, Severus, I am very interested in 'Muggle superstition,' as you call it. But that's beside the point."

"And what, pray tell, is the point?" Sarcasm coated his voice, a sure sign that he was aggravated by my own resolute calm.

"Well, first, I owe someone a favor. But more importantly, these people are gaining an immense amount of power and popularity. If this continues– and it will– they will be in a position to influence some very dangerous people."

Severus sneered at me. "And why, exactly, does this concern our world?"

"Because, Severus. One of the very dangerous people that they are beginning to influence happens to have access to nuclear weaponry. Our world or not, if this little holy crusade gets violent, there may not be any world left for us to be concerned about at all." We glared at each other over Sara's head.

Dumbledore stepped between us. "Severus, I think you should sit down and try to calm yourself. Now. Ann." His blue eyes twinkled at me. "Tell us what it is that the Ministry wants from you."

I fished the strip of parchment out of my pocket. Reading carefully, I explained the mission to them. "It says that the Ministry needs me to go back to the Bedouin tribe that I was with in the wars." I set the strip down to explain. "This particular tribe is mostly wizards and witches; they work for the Ministry in various capacities. They will get me from Sinai to Cairo, where I'm supposed to pose as a convert to this movement, gain access to the leader, and remove him."

Hermione stared at me. "Anne, what do you mean, 'remove him'?"

I smiled wryly. "It is exactly how it sounds, 'Mione. He has to be stopped, and the sooner we can take him down, the less likely it is that his followers will set him up as a martyr."

Dumbledore broke in. "And how does the Ministry want you to accomplish this? Is the leader well guarded? I assume that it will be difficult to gain access to him."

"Most charismatic leaders are flattered by potential converts, especially female ones. As for the actual removal, I have no idea how it will be done. Something will come to me, I'm sure." I picked at a thread raveling out of the sling, then stroked Sara's downy hair. Severus spoke from his corner seat.

"And how do they think you will be able to get in and out of Cairo without being recognized? Not only have you lost your tan, but you are fairly noticeably disfigured– do you imagine that you will not be remarked upon?" His voice was chilly and tight. I pressed my lips together to restrain a cutting remark.

"Thank you for your assessment of my appearance, Severus. If I were to go as I am now, I would surely be recognized. However, you underestimate the ability of a veil to hide its wearer's identity. Plus," I smiled slyly, "I do have a few tricks of the trade, as it were."

Severus narrowed his eyes at me. "What do you mean?"

I raised my hands to my face, chanting a simple Charm in Arabic. I swept my hand over my face and along the length of my braid. I heard the others gasp; Ron and Harry burst out laughing while Hermione began firing questions. Severus looked gratifyingly startled. I rose from my chair to check the effect in the mirror. Staring back at me was a young Bedouin woman, large green eyes framed by jet-black hair that framed a perfectly oval, olive-skinned face. I turned my head to the side, admiring the lack of scars. I laughed suddenly, amused at my own Charm.

Severus appeared in the mirror behind me. He touched my hair, incredulous. "Fascinating. You still look like yourself, only...Arabic." He rested his cool hands on my shoulders; I laid my own hand over his fingers.

"It's always a little disconcerting at first. Then you get used to it, and it's strange when you go back to being yourself. But it's not hard– Sara would be able to learn it a year or two from now." Hermione frowned, considering, I'm sure, the difficulty of keeping track of a child that could change her appearance at will. "Don't worry, 'Mione. I promise I won't pass that spell along until I teach you how to detect it." I snapped my fingers, releasing the spell, and smiled at my familiar reflection.

I gazed around the room at my friends. For the first time since I had joined the Ministry, I was reluctant to take on an assignment; I had my doubts about going back to a tent in the desert, eating starchy foods and getting sunburned. Damn. This must be how Harry felt, always driven by duty and responsibility.

"I have a month to get ready. Albus, that should be plenty of time to wrap up my classes and exams, provided you can do without me at the final dinner." Albus nodded. "I will need some help preparing, research and whatnot. Hopefully Hermione can help me with that." She smiled, eager to get started, I could tell. "I'm also needing to get back in condition; Harry and Ron, I'd appreciate your help with that." I sighed, leaning back in the chair.

"What about while you're away? Is there anything we can do here?" Harry's voice was low and steady. "Do you need someone in Cairo in case something goes wrong?" How like him, to offer to rush into an unknown situation...

I shook my head, regretful. "No. We have plenty of operatives in Cairo, people who know the city and know the people we're up against. I would, though, ask you to be alert here. We'll figure out some way to communicate, some kind of code, and if I need you, I'll send for you. Oh, Albus, that reminds me. One of my colleagues is coming, in about a week. We need to plan, go over maps, work on an idea. May he stay here for a while?"

Albus considered. "I believe we have a few spare rooms on the faculty wing. He may stay as long as necessary." He twinkled at me again. "I don't suppose, Miss Llewellyn, that your compatriot would be willing to speak to your classes? A guest lecturer might provide a bit of excitement."

I grinned. "Actually, Albus, he might be a far more interesting guest for the Defense classes. That is his specialty. I'll see what I can arrange."

We talked for another hour, dividing up research needs and planning exercise sessions. I noticed, after a while, that Severus still sat apart from us, silent and brooding in the corner. I glanced up from a page of writing and caught his eyes. We gazed at each other for several moments. I turned back to our work, but wrapped up the discussion quickly and suggested that I was rather tired and needed some rest. Ron and Harry protested, but Hermione and Dumbledore, catching my subtext, urged them out. Hermione lifted Sara from my arms, patted me on the shoulder and followed the men out.

~~~~~~

We continued to sit for a while. I leaned back into the chair, suddenly exhausted. I closed my eyes and pressed my thumbs into my brow, seeking out a lingering ache. I heard fabric rustle as Severus rose from his chair; I sighed, assuming he was going to his laboratory to be angry. I jumped when his cool fingers touched my forehead. He pushed my hands away from my face, gently massaging my temples and brow. I felt the ache easing slightly; he worked his fingers along the sides of my head to my tightly knotted neck. He silently kneaded at the rocky muscles, coaxing them into relaxation.

After a few minutes, he spoke. "Anne. I am sorry I reacted so strongly to your decision. I still cannot agree with your decision, but I would have you know that I am willing to assist you in any way you need."

I smiled into the fading light. "What I need from you right now is exactly what you're doing. There will be ways that you can help, Severus, but I need you nearby more than anything else." He continued to work at my shoulders, leaning down to kiss the top of my head softly. I grasped his wrists, drawing his arms around me, clinging to him as fiercely as I could.