Notes: So, life got busy and I didn't write much last month, but I bring this oneshot, along with a promise to get back to updating my 13 Ghosts/Monkees crossover starting next week. The flashback to Vincent's schooldays in this chapter references the Pharaoh Ankha from "Scooby-Doo and a Mummy, Too" (and there are references to events from that episode in the present-day scene) as well as Tanis and her father from "Ghoul School." All of them are going to be relevant for a future fic. In the meantime, while I have named Tanis's father as Kharis (from the Universal reboot and Hammer Mummy movies), I am not the first person to do that, and I'm embarrassed to admit that I've forgotten who was, but if I ever find out who it was, I'll be sure to credit them in the future.


Thebes, Egypt, Year 33—

Vincent had been looking forward to his class trip for a long time; though there had been arguments and discussions as to where Advanced Class 36 would end up going, the decision to go to Egypt was the vote of the majority of the 12 students. Oddly enough, Associate Dean Leonidas I, whose son was among the 12 students, had not been pleased with the result and had tried to persuade his son to convince his friends to vote for elsewhere; it was all in vain, however—Vincent and his gang had unanimously put in 6 votes for Egypt, and though Leonidas II had tried to persuade Baz's gang to vote for Babylon, Debora, who had wanted to win Vincent's favor, had voted along with his gang, getting the 7-vote majority. Leonidas I, realizing that no one would be able to persuade Vincent otherwise, instead insisted upon accompanying the class as an additional chaperone, much to the embarrassment of his son and to the surprise of Instructor Endora, who seemed slightly put out at the notion that the Associate Dean did not trust her to handle 12 students on her own.

Leonidas II was soon relieved of some embarrassment as it became clear that his father had insisted on coming not to keep tabs on him, but on Vincent and his gang. Vincent was quite stunned at how flawlessly the Associate Dean seemed to materialize out of the crowd—he could have sworn that he was constantly following him and his gang in numerous disguises.

Determined to have at least some time to themselves, Vincent and his friends went to the Valley of the Kings to pay their respects at the now-empty tomb of the legendary Pharaoh Ramesses Userma'atre Setepenre—known to them as Ozymandias—marveling at the tombs and lamenting how so many of them were empty and broken into, including that of the legendary Pharaoh.

"I don't understand how they could allow such a thing to happen," Byron sighed. "To disturb the rest of so many kings, including King Ozymandias…"

"It's terrible," Voudini agreed. "They didn't give so much as a thought to the sanctity of this place."

"It is said that there are many other tombs in the Valley still undiscovered," Alisa pointed out. "Perhaps some of them are still untouched."

"And will continue to be," Boris agreed.

Miranda sighed.

"I hope so," she said. She looked around at the walls. "I also wonder how this could have been allowed to happen."

Solemnly, they left the tomb and headed back towards the town.

And Vincent, who had bitten his tongue all this while, finally had to vent—

"In losing the Pharaoh's treasures, we have lost so much beautiful art," Vincent lamented. "Can you imagine the beauty and inspiration that King Ozymandias would have surrounded himself with!? Statues! Figurines! Handcrafted weapons! Vases and goblets! Reliquaries! Did you see the art upon these walls—done in reverence a thousand years ago and still tugging the heartstrings of those who look upon them…!?" He sighed, overwhelmed. "A curse upon those who sought to destroy the golden artifacts out of sheer greed and nothing more!"

"Vincent, watch what you say!" Boris warned. "Take it back, this instant—or else!"

"Why should I?" Vincent frowned, folding his arms. "I meant every word of it—why should I recant it?"

"Because here in Egypt, they believe in life persisting after death," Boris reminded him. "Not just their spirits, no—but also their physical bodies left behind."

"And yet they dared to defile the grave of the Great King Ozymandias, stealing his treasures and his body?" Vincent reminded him. "They have committed the crime, not me!"

"Vincent, you know how Byron and Miranda asked how this could have been allowed to happen?" Boris asked. "I will tell you—it was an inside job."

"What!?" Miranda exclaimed.

"No!" Alisa gasped; her familiar, Pythia the raven, cawed in disapproval.

"A few dynasties after King Ozymandias, a Pharaoh named Ankha sought to be known as even greater than them," Boris explained. "He sought wealth and power—and it is said he was feared by all."

"You don't mean that this Pharaoh Ankha had the tombs broken into and the treasures stolen!?" Voudini asked.

"I do," Boris nodded. "You know that magical theory has always intrigued me—King Ozymandias's father, Sethos, knew a secret magic that his predecessors in the previous dynasty created. Pharaoh Ankha sought this power—or, at least, sought to recreate it. But first, he had to prove that these legendary past kings were not as rich and powerful as was claimed."

"And so he had the tombs raided?" Byron asked, shocked.

Boris nodded, and Vincent cursed quietly under his breath.

"And not only was all that beauty and history lost, but the bodies of the kings desecrated and destroyed?" Vincent asked, looking furious.

"Not entirely," Boris said. "Some tombs were still well-hidden, as I mentioned. As for King Ozymandias and his father, along with the other kings whose tombs were raided, Ankha's High Priest, Kharis, was most against this sacrilege; though he could not save most of the gold from being reclaimed and melted down to make Ankha's treasures, it is said that he was, at least, able to save the mummies and move them to hidden locations, along with whatever treasures he could salvage. He managed to create a completely new tomb for Sethos before Ankha found out what he was doing."

"Oh dear…" Miranda realized. "What happened then?"

"Ankha demanded Kharis tell him where the mummies and recovered treasures were, and Kharis refused," Boris said. He paused. "It is said that, in retaliation, Ankha had Kharis's young daughter—a girl named Tanis—killed when she tried to return some of the treasure to its rightful place."

"…Why shouldn't I curse Ankha's name?" Vincent asked, looking even more infuriated than before.

"Because Ankha never got to enjoy his victory—it is said that he was slain thereafter by someone called the Demon King," Boris said. "But before he died, he laid a curse on his own body to prevent his mummy from being manhandled like the other kings he had done the same to—a curse intended to inflict petrification on those who dared to touch him. There is no way of knowing if it worked—Ankha's tomb is one of the ones that hasn't been found. But it is safe to assume that his spirit persists along with his body."

"So I'm supposed to avoid cursing an evil king simply because he could curse me?" Vincent scoffed. "I am the top student at Terror Tech, despite being there only a year—I don't have to put down the great mages of the past to be confident of my powers!"

He stopped just outside the edge of town, turning back to face the Valley of the Kings.

"Ankha!" he bellowed. "I don't fear you!"

"Vincent, no—!" Voudini facepalmed.

Vincent raised his left hand, pointing towards the Valley of the Kings and focusing.

"Ankha, my name is Vincent Van Ghoul! With my power, I now break the spell you cast upon yourself!" he continued. "For Kharis and his daughter, Tanis—I avenge them and leave you at the mercy of the desert and the curiosity of the mortals! DeSpell!"

A light shot from Vincent's hand, arcing above the desert before coming back down to penetrate through the cliffside—into Ankha's tomb.

"That's where it is—Ankha's tomb," Vincent said, proudly. "Buried there, in the cliffside."

"Vincent, you're not going to break in!?" Alisa asked.

"Of course not—I'm better than him!" Vincent insisted. "I'm just going to do this—Temporal Chains!"

He aimed the chains at the tomb, as well, effectively placing a seal on Ankha's mummy.

"Vincent, why…?" Byron asked.

"For a thousand years, Ankha enjoyed the rest he denied to his predecessors, knowing that his curse would strike down and petrify any who attempted to break into his tomb," Vincent frowned. "Now, with his curse broken and his mummy unable to move, let him fret and worry, knowing that there's nothing he can do to stop any intruders, should they discover it."

Boris shook his head as Byron bit his lip.

"I'm… I'm sure Kharis and Tanis appreciate what you've done, Vincent," Miranda managed to say.

"Don't encourage him," Voudini said. "If Instructor Endora or the Associate Dean finds out what Vincent did…"

Now, Vincent finally looked nervous, peering into the streets of town, looking for either of them.

"I don't fear Ankha, but I do fear them…" he admitted. "Perhaps we should all find separate ways back to the inn, so they don't think we were out somewhere together." He shrugged as the others all gave him unsure looks. "If Ankha was going to strike me down, it would have happened by now—I'll be fine! He knows he is no match for my power!"

"You will go straight back to the inn?" Voudini asked.

"Yes—I'll cut through the marketplace," Vincent promised.

Reluctantly, they split up—Pythia cawing in disapproval again as they did so. Vincent did as promised and made his way towards the inn via the marketplace, pausing to buy a piece of fruit from one of the stalls as he headed back, taking in the arts and crafts people had on sale, getting distracted as someone called out to him from one of the back alleyways.

"Over here, Boy! See the wares I have for sale—genuine antiques!"

Vincent glanced over, pausing as he saw a salesman beckoning him to his stand in the alleyway—the stand was covered, but the man pulled back the cloth for an instant, revealing a glint of gold.

Deciding that a little detour wouldn't cause too much harm, Vincent darted into the alley, staring wide-eyed at the Pharaonic treasures.

"They can't be real!" he exclaimed. "They were stolen and melted down a thousand years ago; they must be recreations—mere trinkets!"

"Not everything was destroyed, Boy," the salesman reminded him. "These 'trinkets' are over a thousand years old! And some of them are powerful enough to be worthy of a powerful mage like yourself."

Vincent looked up.

"How did you—?"

"I sense a great power within you, Boy—might I ask if you were involved in those brilliant flashes of magic that struck the Valley minutes ago?"

"…Actually, yes—I was," Vincent replied, proud of himself.

The salesman smiled and now picked up a large ring with several golden projections from it.

"I think a young mage of your power and skills would find this useful in augmenting your powers even more; forged over a thousand years ago, during the time of Sethos's predecessors in the village of Kul Elna, it holds a great power—the same power that was sought by Ankha. This piece was lost in his attempt to claim that power. It can be yours for a modest fee."

Vincent was barely listening about the power that the ring held, staring instead at the eye-like design on the ring.

"It is a true work of art and a piece of history," he breathed. "If I were to take it, I simply couldn't keep it away and use it—such a thing is to be shared with the world, for all to see!"

"Then take it and travel the world with it!" the salesman grinned.

"I suppose I could…" Vincent realized.

"Would you like to see how it looks on you first?" the salesman offered, holding it out to him.

Vincent hesitated for a moment, but then reached for it—

"NO!"

The young warlock let out a yelp as the villager nearby him now transformed into Associate Dean Leonidas, grabbing Vincent's left wrist and dragging him away from the alley as the salesman scowled furiously.

"Sir!?" Vincent exclaimed. "I don't understand what's wrong—!"

"Did you not stop to consider that if a Pharaoh as notoriously cruel as Ankha was after a magical item, that it would be something that you would want nothing to do with!?" Leonidas I chided him, finally letting go of his wrist.

Vincent stood there, blinking; somehow, the Associate Dean had overheard the entire conversation about Ankha—did he also know about the cursebreaking!?

"N… No, Sir…"

"Obviously," Leonidas sighed. "That ring was created by the Forbidden Arts, Vincent; it is full of a malicious, powerful presence—a presence that, through you, would have had access to powers even greater than Ankha's! It wouldn't have enhanced your power, Vincent—you would have enhanced its power!"

Vincent's eyes widened.

"How can you be sure?" he asked.

"Because, I spoke to the Pharaoh who had that magic commissioned—he did not realize the full extent of what went into that power, but was in too deep to back out by the time the rituals were in place," Leonidas I replied. "Innocent lives were taken to temper that power—and, as you know, that very much falls into the area of the Forbidden Arts. I was furious when I found out; I turned my back on the Pharaoh and essentially told him that he would not be receiving any aid from the Greek mages."

"He could have killed you for that insult!" Vincent exclaimed.

"Yes, at least you had the sense to insult Ankha after he was dead…"

Vincent blushed. So he had heard…

"But the Pharaoh knew in his heart that he had commissioned a terrible thing," Leonidas I continued. "He didn't pursue me. You know, of course, of the concept of Karma?"

"Yes, Sir; it was part of our lessons on avoiding the Forbidden Arts," Vincent said. "I guess something happened to the Pharaoh that resulted in Sethos ascending the throne?"

"Yes; a great darkness swallowed the land, and the Pharaoh and his son perished trying to contain it—Sethos became the Pharaoh, and I eventually reached out to him, warning him to cast that power aside and destroy it, lest a similar fate befall him. He countered that the Demon King presented too great a threat to destroy it, and so we compromised in having him seal that power away; by the time his son Ozymandias ascended the throne, it was no longer in use."

"…Who is the Demon King, Sir?" Vincent asked, innocently.

"Why do you ask!?" Leonidas I asked, sounding alarmed as he glanced back at the boy.

Vincent blinked in surprise.

"I just thought you'd know, Sir—since you were around at the time. He's the one who defeated Ankha—he must be pretty powerful."

"Yes, there's no doubt about that," Leonidas I sighed. "As for who he is, that is a tale for another time."

Vincent glanced back towards the alley, pausing as he found it completely empty now.

"That salesman is gone!"

"He was never truly there," Leonidas informed him. "It was an aspect of the ring's malevolence come to life. Mana is a powerful thing, Vincent—so powerful, that sometimes, it can give sentience to inanimate objects. This ring, in fact, was what caused Ankha to slay his high priest's young daughter—he was so desperate to obtain it, but Ankha was unable to recover it, for the girl, Tanis, took the secret of its location to her tomb."

"The ring must have sensed me breaking Ankha's curse and sealing his mummy…" Vincent realized. "…Sir, I… my emotions got the better of me…"

"So they did," the Associate Dean sighed. "But, in doing so, you've spared the lives of anyone who stumbles upon Ankha's tomb in the future. I understand you were upset at the loss of those historical artworks—"

"I was, but after hearing about what happened to that poor girl…" Vincent shook his head. "I doubt that Kharis and Tanis would be able to rest in peace after what happened. …I hope someday they find peace."

"You have a good and compassionate heart, Vincent," Leonidas observed. "Let it continue to lead you into using your powers only for good. But don't fall victim to your pride or your temper—no good will come of that."

"I'll try to do better, Sir," Vincent promised.

"Very well," Leonidas conceded. "I suggest you return to the inn as you intended. And Vincent? Warn your comrades about what they might end up handling in the marketplace; I'll make sure that my son relays that warning to his compatriots, as well."

"Yes, Sir!"

The Associate Dean sighed as Vincent now ran back towards the inn. One of these days, the boy would find out who the Demon King was, as well as his personal connection to him, but this was not that time—let him remain free from that burden for as long as possible.

For now, Leonidas would pray that Vincent's good heart would remain as such, for his effortless breaking of Ankha's curse would have put even Asmodeus to shame—Vincent clearly was shaping up to be even more powerful than his Demon King ancestor, and, by the grace of the Olympians, he would avoid that evil path that Asmodeus took.


Luxor, Egypt, Year 2017—

Much to the relief of the Associate Dean, Vincent did, indeed, avoid the dark path of his ancestor—and also learned not to fall to his pride and temper, albeit needing to learn that the hard way. He did, in time, learn about his connection to the Demon King, and vowed not to make the same mistakes he made.

And Vincent's good heart did, as well, remain the same across the millennia, even as the world changed around him. He couldn't help but remember that encounter with that fabricated salesman as he walked the streets of Luxor, for it was on these very streets that the incident had occurred; time had changed the name of Thebes to Luxor, but the memory was permanently etched into Vincent's mind.

Visiting Egypt again hadn't been his idea, but that of those he considered his family-by-choice; Daphne and Shaggy had been offered a chance to do a piece for the paper they worked for on the history of the New Kingdom Pharaohs, and had invited the others to come along. They had started off in Cairo, to pay their respects to many of the Pharaohs themselves, including Sethos and Ozymandias, whose intact mummies had been found in the last 200 years in the small tombs that Kharis had hidden them in—the recovered mummies now rested in the museum, and Vincent had found himself humbled to be in the presence of the great kings that he had only heard of being spoken about by his teachers.

It was when they arrived in Luxor to look at the Valley of the Kings, now with significantly more tombs uncovered than when Vincent had visited it in his teenage years—including, to his satisfaction, Ankha's, that he was further surprised to hear Scooby, Shaggy, and Daphne talking about Ankha with such familiarity.

"How do you know of Ankha?" Vincent queried. "He wasn't one of the kings on display in Cairo."

"Like, that's because he's on display in our hometown's university!" Shaggy informed him.

"One of our old mysteries in high school was about someone pretending to have been Ankha coming back to life," Daphne added. She shuddered. "The fake Ankha was such a creep!"

"Rheah, he threw me in a shack and made Rhaggy think I'd been petrified!" Scooby barked.

Scrappy scowled.

"That fake was lucky I wasn't there…" he muttered, furious at the thought of his uncle being manhandled like that.

"Was that the worst that happened?" Flim-Flam asked, his eyes wide.

"No—then he chased us all over the campus and threw a bandsaw at us…" Shaggy recalled.

"…A bandsaw?" Flim-Flam repeated.

Daphne winced.

"…That one was partly my fault since I accidently turned the saw on…" she sighed. "But I guess if we'd taken a moment to realize that he could speak English and knew how to use a bandsaw, we'd have figured out he was a fake right there. Adrenaline can sure cloud your mind…" She searched her photo library on her phone to show Vincent. "Here he is—the real Ankha, I mean, not the creepy fake. And that's his diamond scarab that we found—that was what the fake was after."

Vincent was silent as he stared upon the wretched face, not sure how to break it to the kids that the real Ankha was even more of a creep than the fake and that the diamond scarab was, undoubtedly, his power stone—and that the only reason why the real Ankha hadn't come back to life to wreak havoc with his curse or powers like he had threatened to was because of Vincent's teenage outburst in breaking Ankha's curse and using Temporal Chains on the mummy. As much as it had been a childish display of pride, it had, inevitably, saved three members of his patchwork family before he'd even met them.

"Vincent?" Daphne asked, concerned at the look on his face. "Is something wrong?"

"…I was just reflecting on a great deal of irony," he said. "It's rather a long story—and one that I think is well suited for another time when you and Shaggy aren't as busy, but let's just say that you weren't the first to deal with Ankha."

The youngsters and the dogs all exchanged glances and shrugged, and as they headed back into town, Vincent kept an eye out in case that illusionary salesman decided to show up again, as well.

At some point, he realized, it would be a good idea to stop by that university and re-cast Temporal Chains on the mummy. After all, he'd only been 16 when he first cast that spell; he was stronger and wiser now, and would be able to cast the spell with greater power. Ankha had already shown in his life that the lives of innocent youngsters meant nothing to him; there was no way that Vincent would allow the cruel king to do the same to his kids.

Nothing would get past him

Quake before me once again, Ankha, he silently transmitted. I still don't fear you. and for the sake of my family, I will ensure that you never succeed in harming them.

And, with that, he pushed Ankha out of his mind and proceeded to enjoy the rest of the trip.