2. Anciency never pays off

"Er ... Hello? Is anybody here?"

"Good morning, sir. This is the International Aurors Society's Emergency Line for Endangered Muggles. Are you sure that you are a Muggle?"

"Damn, of course I'm not! I'm Egyptian Minister of Magic and I want ..."

"If you are not a Muggle try any other form of contacting, please."

"I've already tried everything! All your Floo lines are inaccessible! Have all IAS staff suddenly disappeared? I must talk with General Brewett, now!"

"Sorry, but I can't help you. Have a nice day."

Click!

Ali Dahim threw the receiver with furious movement and begin to circle his desk. He, Minister of Magic, had no possibilities to get in touch with the worldwide organization! It was simply ridiculous! Especially in this situation, when their presence were essential. What they were paid for? There were obviously more useful ways of spending money than on the organization which was doing completely nothing.

"Sir?" the secretary opened his office's door cautiously like she was aware of possibility of some heavy objects flying straightly at her. "There are two visitors outside."

"May I guess?" Dahim smirked. " 'Daily Prophet'? 'The Wizarding Community'? 'Magic Everywhere'? 'The Phoenix'? 'Veritaserum'? Other type of life- sucking newspaper? Say to this nice journalists that we are not interested in cooperation with them."

"But sir, they are only the IAS experts."

"At last! Let them in!"

**

Dahim glanced suspiciously at two men who were standing politely at the other side of his desk. To make it absolutely clear, one of them was standing politely. The second one seemed to be a person who even didn't make any effort to check in the vocabulary what the word 'politeness' means. Now this young Arabian leaned on Minister's desk grinning widely.

This more polite guy was as well more interesting one. He was barely smiling, as if he didn't wish anyone to have even a glimpses on his teeth. For one short but tense moment Dahim locked his eyes with his, deeply red and rather terrifying. 'The vampire' thought Dahim. He hade a strong feeling that he is somehow familiar with this person.

"Er ... IAS experts?" he asked, looking intensively at his calendar.

" It depends." said the vampire-like man smiling ironically. "Of course, officially we are working for IAS. If you wish to see our identity cards ..."

"Oh, yes!" Dahim's eyes glittered in recognition. "And surely you have no wands, aren't you?"

"Precisely."

"Idiots!" Minister hissed jumping on his feet. The Arabian looked furiously at him and rose his hand. But his comrade who was no one but Theodore Restaud himself didn't even bother to move or change his facial expression. This made Dahim start to feel a bit awkwardly. "Er ... Sorry. It was about- "

"About some infallible Aurors who this moment appear to be rather fallible?" asked Restaud politely. "Especially because it is the Tomato's Sculpture Day?"

"Anyway, I require some respect for Old Magic Masters!" said the Arabian with dangerous voice.

"Calm down, Nyrth." something in vampire's tone made his companion looks a bit frightened. It could be the irritation but so hidden that for Dahim nearly impossible to sense. "It is fully understandable that in situation like this the Minister feels nothing less than a cold fury, isn't it?"

"Great thanks for your support." Dahim smiled bitterly. "By the way, what is this Tomato's Sculpture Day?"

"A kind of ridiculous European Auror's celebration." Restaud smirked "They choose one of their previous enemies who are now in freedom and through all day they make fool of him."

"Merlin's beard!" exclaimed the Minister "And who is their victim this year? Poor man!"

"Better not to know." murmured the Arabian.

"Some sadistic abilities need to reveal itselves sometimes." Theodor summed up "But coming back to the point, we are here to help you with your 'little problem'."

"Is it so serious? I feel yes, because if not you hadn't arrived here."

"We haven't decided yet. But anyway IAS isn't informed about our escapade. Not that he doesn't know anything, but ... you understand." the man winked what made Dahim shiver lightly. He wasn't the most eager one to talk with red-eyed people. Anyway, anything was better than the journalists. "Of course, we need your permission for working in your country. Everything legal."

"I'm quite eager to give you it." said Minister coldly "And even without IAS knowledge. But firstly you must say me something about your suspicions about this odd murder."

"Naturally. And- Oh! What an impertinent prat I am! Of course, I've forgotten to introduce us. I'm Theodore Restaud, the Old Magic Master, as you have noticed. And this is Nyrthan Gan-Abar, my young fellow, the Old Magic Master too. "

"Theodore Restaud? Dahim rose his eyebrows "I've heard somewhere about you."

"I suppose it was connected with this so-famous 'Four Sword's Prophecy'. It was the first and the last time I was collaborating with the Phoenix Order, nearly sixteen years ago." As usually, when he was talking about the Order something evil for one moment shadowed his eyes.

"Probably yes." Dahim admitted "Do you think that it was a mere truth that Dumbledore with only two Aurors stopped all You-Know-Who's army? Quite unbelievable."

Restaud smiled very coldly.

"Don't believe newspapers. If you wish, I will tell you the true story one time. But now - let's see your unpredictable Department of Uncovered History. I suppose you are quite curious about what really happened there."

**

Somewhere deep in the golden sea of sand was the oasis village. About two hundred of inhabitants kept living there. People sensitive like sun rays caressing the white strands of the widest beach worldwide. And hard like the weather five steps from oasis. Alive, despite the whole clime which was against their existence. Quite mysterious nation called Nomands

The only visitors in this somewhat peaceful place were caravans. Lots of dark men with their camels carrying the articles most of which was more mysterious than in your wildest dreams. Arriving, staying merely to rest and next inevitably gone to the unknown destiny. Every week, every season just the same.

That day couldn't be different. When the sun rose softly over the still cold and warm-colored sand some of the inhabitants saw the silhouettes of small caravan heading to the village. Their leader, the black haired man wearing traditional long galabia wasn't someone unusual. His lower part of the face was invisible under the white material, onyx eyes were glittering in soft shadows of tropical flora. Next typical Arabian greeted properly and asked to stay as long as needed to rest and prepare for a long journey.

It seemed that only a single soul from the right beginning found that something is wrong about all the caravan, especially the leader. She was a ten years old girl, the daughter of village priest, and a child who was hypersensitive for any kind of magical forces. Probably the next great wizard-to-be. She felt the strong smell of the Magic of Dead which was floating above the strangers like toxic fumes of chemical weapon. More powerful than Avada Kedavra, more ancient than Old Magic's Expellination such a force was uncommon even in purest wizarding world. The girl, of course, didn't know that interesting fact. She was just curious about this odd irregularity of magic field. And determined to take a good look at the mysterious man.

She waited till the sun took a good nap in the soft bed of sand and dozen of stars appeared on the unwelcomingly black sky. Leaving her family's quarters she headed for the place where the caravan was sleeping. Soon, she found a tent which their leader was occupying. She stood at the entrance, a shameless black figure on the slightly lighter vastness of the night sky. He was not sleeping yet and right now he was starring at her softly. He nodded and with swift movement of his hand invited to join him in the warm brightness of flickering candle. She hesitated just one moment - because of overwhelming smell of Death - but curiosity won.

"Do you know why are you here?" he asked when she sat down next to him.

"Yes, sir. I wanted to know who are you." she said.

"Hmmm . Wasn't it your privet Fate who brings you here?" he asked smiling mysteriously "I'm not used to little people stucking their noses into my own business. But I also feel the unexplainable urge to say to you what is needed to say."

"I don't believe in Fate." She replied curtly "It was just my own curiousity."

The man laughed softly.

"Because you are not supposed to live long enough to understand the major role of Fate in people's life just put this matter aside. Anyway, you have three questions which you may ask and I am bounded to answer you. So let's start because our time is passing."

The girl nodded slowly. The rules were very well known in Arabian world.

"Am I misguided or it is really the smell of Death lingering in the air around you?"

"You are not."

"Who are you?"

The man smiled coldly.

"Straight question, straight answer." He said with odd voice. Than he blown gently at the direction of the candle. Its fire flickered and became growing becoming something akin mirror. In the deepness of it she saw a shadow of a man . with jackal head.

"Is it efficient?"

She gulped and nodded.

"Give me your heart and I will give you your future." He whispered. "Third question, Madam?"

"Why. why are you here?"

"To leave a sign for my followers. Eternally written all over this beautiful place."

There was no next day. After the night every inhabitant of the oasis was sleeping peacefully in the deepness of white sand. The village was only a dull memory, nothing more material than a leaf of the palm stubbornly sticking from the granular surface. Sand storms sometimes happen.

That story was written in white stone by human's hands, engraved patiently hieroglyph after hieroglyph, like the whole existence of this soul was needed only to pass this so-important information to next generations. Like two witches reading them with horror in their eyes.

Was it this child who made such an effort? How it was possible for her to survive this hell while all the rest of villagers were burned deep in the most common tomb found on the desert? There were no traces of any child's death in the cave but neither Leo nor Pat wanted to search for them. Their consciousness was telling them what Fate eventually met the little girl, and that was quite efficient. Now, the most important thing was to get out. And because there were seemingly no way back they should go through the only exit visible - the narrow corridor leading downwards. And the pictures of Anubis all over the walls weren't exactly mood-enlightening. As well as the Eyemirror's constant silence.

**

On the other side of the Nile, straight opposite Luxor is the smaller city. Often abandoned by the tourist excited by the King's Valley, but surely worth to see. The kingdom of joy, love and fecundity. The kingdom of Hathor goddess. Dendera.

Today was her day and the entire city was full of colors: of goddess procession going through the streets, of wedding guests because this day was the best for marriage and of colorful market full of everything a man or a woman need or desire.

"Sapphira! Where are you, you silly girl! You are supposed to help your mother with our food supply! SAPPHIRA!"

"Here, here!" cried the young women drifting through the crowd. She was one of the people who politely could be called as 'well fed'. She has an oval, rather pale face curtained by long, wavy, coal black hair. Her light brown eyes was always shining with those unhealthy curiosity which often leads people to some unpleasant situations. Lips, a bit too small, and nose which often were making some odd rabbit-like movements was complementing the description of maybe friendly but rather not attractive girl.

"Where are you wandering when you are needed here?" asked sharply her mother, a woman in her late thirties and obviously exhausted by the existence.

"Oh, sorry but I wanted to see this gorgeous procession ."

"Are you? I suppose it's just the same as the previous year. You better take a good look at all those fabulous men marrying their women today. It's exactly that matter which should focus your attention now. You will better hurry up because if not you will find yourself a spinster with no one to take care of you. And I don't care about those absurd your father keeps telling. An arranged marriage isn't anything bad."

"Really?" murmured the woman smiling sadly.

"Of course it's not! I got married in age of fifteen and I'm perfectly happy! You are now eighteen! For nearly everyone too old for a wife!"

"So, it should be someone special, shouldn't he?" Sapphira cut off. They walked in heavy silence till they got to their house. She dropped the food and turned on her heel.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"To dad! I will be here for dinner!" she said and rushed through the door.

**

"Hi! What are you up to?" Sapphira asked curiously her father, the elder man with bright eyes and cunning smile. They were standing in the middle of the archeological camp. Yes, that was exactly what her precious dad was doing. Finding the mysteries of ancient Egypt in soft deepness of Sahara's sand. "Still digging out this mysterious new tomb?"

"Exactly, my love." He said with odd glint in his eyes "And we have a little surprise for you. Good, that you are so early. You will be the first."

"The first to what?" she asked feeling her heart try to jump out of her chest.

"To destroy the peace of the sleeping history." He said softly. He took her hand and guided her to the huge hole in the ground. There was entrance to the tomb.

"Oh!" Sapphira was never such excited in whole her life. That made her speechless. The possibility to be the first visitor in the other world, where the good souls goes in ancient Egypt.

"Shhh. Don't wake up the Death."

They went down the ladder and into the tomb. Her father lit the torch and they pass the long corridor and get to the main chamber. In the weak light they saw lots of odd hieroglyphs covering the walls.

"Interesting." said her father quietly. "I'm not well educated in reading hieroglyphs but it seems that they are in some way connected with Anubis. See?" he pointed at the hieroglyph in shape of jackal-headed god.

"But Anubis is one of the death gods, isn't he? This one who weigh dead people hearts. He should be present here."

"But surely not in such quantity. It's uncommon. But we will think about it later. Now we should open this catafalque." He turned to the entrance "Hey! Come here, guys! A big work to do!"

Four strong men appeared and with great effort pulled away a solid stone board. Than every of them looked inside.

There was no mummy. Only the skeleton of a quite small person, or a child. And a roll of papyrus.

**

"Alastor, it was simply brilliant!" shouted General Brewett, all time trying to find the stubborn bottle of Firewhisky which suddenly disappeared. "Superb!"

"I 'ow 'at. Bloody 'ell 'ow." Moody grinned insanely and take another gulp of Brewett's whisky. "You 'ow what, Sever . pff! Surrendus? We 'ould repeat 'is next year!"

"Yeah, we should." Brewett had dreamy expression "And you see? One day free make no harm to anyone. Surely, what can happen in one innocent day?"

"N'thing." mumbled Alastor half-conciously.

**

Have you liked it? Review than, please. I know that this story is a bit unusual. It contains a lot of Egyptian mythology and a kind of magic you are not used to. Anyway, do you want more Rowling's world in this story? Give mi your opinion. I know that there might be a lot of awful mistakes. Sorry for that. This story is non-betaed. Any volunteers?