Curse Breakers!

Morning crept gently upon Cairo and with it came the sounds of the waking city. Bill knew that outside the sun was up, an idea that seemed so much at odds with the dark, cool setting of the room in which they sat. Anne was peering over at the Professor when for a moment his breathing seemed to catch. She relaxed as it slipped back into regularity.
'When do they think he will wake?' asked Sneerscar in hushed tones.
'They don't know,' Bill told him. 'The Healers think it might be a few hours or even days. He was pretty well battered when we found him and at his age...'
'Do you have any idea who might have done this?'
'No, sir. But I'll find out.'
Sneerscar nodded.
'Why couldn't they have just stunned him and taken the notebook?' asked Anne from her bedside seat. Neither of the two men had an answer.

The door opened and in walked a man wearing a slate-grey suit and periwinkle shirt.
'This is the room, Doris,' he said loudly over his shoulder. An older woman with a sad expression followed him in.
Anne looked up at the intruders in outrage, but the periwinkle shirt waved a dismissive hand at her.
'Gloss, Granville Gloss. We're from the Ministry. Came as soon as we heard.' He peered over the Professor's supine form as if curious to see the extent of any visible damage.
'My name is Battersea,' explained the woman as she shook Sneerscar's hand. 'I'm Junior Head of Station at the Ministry.'
'I know who you are.' Sneerscar dropped her hand as if it was diseased. 'Why are you here?'
'We aren't grave robbers, Mr Sneerscar,' said Battersea coldly. 'The Ministry is interested in all attacks upon wizards. Especially when the crime is as violent as this. We wish to put ourselves and our resources at your disposal.'
Bill could tell that Sneerscar, mistrustful of the Ministry on a good day, would be more than happy to 'dispose' of its two emissaries.
'Thank you. I'm certain Gringotts can manage its own affairs.'
'First-rate security you provide for your employees.' Gloss turned to Bill. 'Hope there are fringe benefits.' His reptilian eyes flicked over Anne. 'But of course there are.'

Bill clenched his teeth. 'Do your resources tell you who would be likely to beat an old man almost to death?'
'That's a long list in any city, laddie.' Gloss smiled. 'Perhaps you could help us narrow things down. Motive, for one. Was anything stolen?'
Sneerscar interrupted before Bill could answer.
'Weasley and Miss Strathmore were too busy summoning help to make an inventory of the Professor's belongings. My security staff is going over the flat as we speak. I will notify you of their conclusions when they are finished.'
'Excellent.' Battersea led the way towards the door, then paused. 'Was the Professor working on anything in particular at the moment? Anything that might have been of interest to... outside parties?'
'Yes,' said Bill. 'He had nearly completed his work on creating a "flipless flapjack." Does that help?'
Battersea smiled in such a way that Bill had to check whether he had just been hexed.
Gloss tugged the carnation from his lapel and laid it gently on the night table beside the bed, and then, after a thought, he added his business card.
'Let us know when he wakes up.'

Battersea and Gloss were nearly in the hallway when Anne called them back.
'Ms Battersea, how did you find out about the Professor so quickly?'
'Oh, well, the police alerted us. They always bring cases like these directly to the Ministry.'
Granville Gloss frowned and ushered his companion outside.
Once they were gone, Anne looked to Sneerscar.
'Sir, we didn't call the police.'
'I know, Miss Strathmore. I know.'

'Bill, where are we going?'
'To get some answers. Come on.'
As they reached Dalton Dodge's building, they saw a crowd of workers piling crates of excavating equipment at the side of the street. Dodge, overseeing the work, saw them and waved them over.
'All right, Bill, Anne?'
Bill took Dodge by the arm and lead him inside.
'That looks like hot work, Dodgy. Let's go upstairs and get a drink.'
'Yeah, okay.'
As they made there way up the stairs to the shop, Anne asked the bewildered Dodge, 'Do you have a new customer, Dalton? That looks like quite an order out there.'
'Yeah, actually, it's huge,' Dodge grinned. 'Came in last night. In fact, I wanted to ask you, Bill, if I could have a day or two more roundin' up your parts, seein' as how I'm in a dead mess here.'
Bill closed the shop door behind them.

He looked Dodge up and down. Somehow it was Dodge, he decided. Nothing else fit. Bill thought back to how the Professor had looked when they found him...because of this scum. He felt red tinge his vision.
'Certainly, Dodgy. What are friends for? Just one thing though,' He took Gloss's card from his pocket and tossed it onto the counter. 'Ever seen that before?'
Dodge leaned over and tried to read the name on the card, but at that moment Bill grabbed him by the hair and smashed his face down onto the counter.
'Bill!' screamed Anne.
'What did you tell him, you sniveling bastard?' Bill punched Dodge in the jaw and sent the man spiraling to the ground.
Anne pushed between Bill and his victim and drew her wand.
'What the hell do you think you're doing?' she demanded.
Dodge groaned and spat blood onto the carpet.
'Jesus, Bill, I think you broke my nose!'
'Shut up, or I'll break your stinking neck! How much did Gloss pay you?'
'Calm down, the both of you, and back off.' Anne pointed her wand primarily at Bill, but she stepped backwards so as to keep Dodge covered as well.
'Granville Gloss,' insisted Bill. 'He paid you for information about the Professor.'
'Don't know what you're on about, mate.' Dodge rubbed his bloody nose on his sleeve. 'Don't know no Gloss and what's it got to do with the Professor.'
Bill wanted to hit him again. Instead he appealed to Anne.
'He was the only one who knew about the notebook. The Professor as good as told him the whole story. Who else could it be?'
'Dalton,' began Anne, 'did you tell anyone about our visit here yesterday? About the Professor especially?'
Dodge looked about himself drunkenly for a moment.
'What's goin' on here?'
'The Professor was badly beaten last night. Someone stole his notebook. They almost killed him, Dalton.'
Dodge collapsed into a chair and ran his hand through his hair.
'Oh, hell. I didn't mean...I never thought anything like that...'
Bill had had enough.
'Spill it!'

'I went to the Fez to pay Jacques after you left. I asked him if he could extend me some credit for a sure bet, and he laughed at me. I told him I was good for it, how I had been given a big order by you lot, and it would probably turn out to be the biggest thing this century.
'Jacques wasn't interested but this other bloke was. He bought me a few drinks and told me he worked for a fella that did some excavations and might need someone like me to hook him up. He was real interested in...in a professional manner, he said, in what you were doin'. I told him how smart the Professor was and how he was breaking the old pharaoh's code like a word jumble and had it all in his little notebook. X marks the spot and all that. Is the Professor that bad? Christ.'
'He's alive,' Anne assured him, 'and we expect him to recover fully.'
Bill stood above Dodge.
'Is that all, Dodgy?'
'He -- the bloke, he left and came back an hour or two later. Said he was so impressed he wanted to put in an order with me. It's his order they're putting together outside.'
'Who was this "bloke?"' Bill asked.
'Don't know, said he was named Smith. He's a strange fish. Dressed like he was in service.'
'What, like the military?'
'No, I mean he was dressed like a butler or something. Bowler hat too.'
Bill leaned on the counter. The description fit no one he knew.
'You're sure?'
'Of course I'm sure. See for yourself. He'll be coming to pick up his kit any minute.'

Right on cue a large lorry rumbled into the street and a man in a butler's uniform hopped down from the carriage. He walked over to the piles of equipment and made a cursory inspection. Bill stared out the window in confusion.
'I haven't a clue as to who that is.'
'Well, we'll find out in a second,' reminded Anne.
A tiny bell rang downstairs as the front door opened followed by the sound of footsteps on the stair.
'Better idea,' whispered Bill and he opened the window. 'Dodgy, take your money and act as if everything is normal. Don't say anything about us or the Professor.'
'But...'
'Come on!' Bill climbed out the window onto the balcony, pulling Anne after him.
'Where are we going?'
'Down.'
With a leap Bill threw himself from the balcony onto the top of the vehicle below. He motioned for Anne to follow, which she did after a moment's hesitation. Bill caught her in his arms.
'Having fun yet?' Bill asked as he climbed down the back of the lorry and swung himself inside.

Anne and Bill stood silently in the convoy's hold staring around themselves in surprise. The interior of the lorry was huge. Obviously it had been magically altered, for it was now the size of a small warehouse. It was crammed with boxes, bunks for sleeping and what looked like a small laboratory.
'Do you think they have a permit for this?' wondered Anne aloud.
Bill pointed to a closet along the wall and climbed inside. Anne followed suit.
For a quarter of an hour they listened as Dodge's workers loaded the lorry with crates. Sweat ran down Bill's nose and not all of it was caused by the heat. One look at Dodge's bruised face should alert anyone to the fact that there was something up. Then again, Dalton Dodge was rather famous for being on every leg-breaker's late payer list. After what seemed like an eternity, the lorry shook as its engine turned with a growl. They were moving, but to where?

When the lorry finally stopped, the sun was going down. Bill heard the driver get down. Then there were other voices -- they spoke in Arabic, of which Bill understood only a handful of words. He crept out of his closet and chanced taking a peek out the back of the convoy. He could see they were deep in the desert in what looked like a ravine or valley. He caught sight of the bowler-hatted driver as he made his way down some steps that had been dug out of the earth.
Bill ran to Anne's closet and gently opened the door. She sat inside snoring and started when he shook her awake.
'Quiet,' he hissed, but she pointed over his shoulder.
He turned and saw men climbing into the lorry, about twenty of them. They each grabbed a crate or item and hurriedly carried it out. They paid no attention to the two curse breakers.
'Muggles,' said Anne. 'They look as though they have been charmed.'
Bill picked up a box.
'Let's get a better look,' he said and clambered down with the rest of the crowd.

Two wizards in light robes, one short, the other monstrously fat, were overseeing the unloading. Bill took his box and walked in a slow circle around the lorry, his eyes unfocused and mouth open. He saw no other guards.
One of the wizards noticed Bill and nudged his short friend. They approached him cautiously with their wands out. He wobbled towards them. Fatty, the more independent of the two, asked Bill a question, again in Arabic. Bill rolled his eyes and moved slowly closer to them, stopping at their feet, trying his best to seem like a bewitched Muggle.
Shorty looked at his friend and shrugged as if to say, 'It takes all kinds.' He raised his wand and --

Bill dropped his crate on the little man's foot. The wizard let out a scream and his obese companion aimed his wand at Bill's heart. Bill grabbed the outstretched arm at the meaty wrist and spun himself into the wizard, driving his elbow into the man's jaw. Fatty's wand misfired, blowing Shorty clear off his bad foot.
Bill struggled with the fat wizard who had managed to use his weight to gain advantage over the much lighter curse breaker. Repeatedly jabbing his elbow into the man's ribs seemed to have no effect as Bill couldn't even tell if it was rib or blubber that he was pummeling. Bill felt himself sinking to his knees as the wizard, now with an arm around the younger man's neck, put on 'the squeeze'.

Suddenly a voice said, 'Stupefy!' and the corpulent wizard collapsed, his bulk rolling Bill to the ground.
'Mind if I cut in?' asked Anne.
'I thought you'd never ask. Not exactly light on his toes, is he?'
Anne lowered her wand and laughed. 'I bet you are the sort of boy whose mother follows him around cleaning up after him.'
Bill pointed at the unconscious wizards.
'Wanna end up like them? Keep talkin' about my mum.'

They stepped lightly down the roughhewn stairs, unsure whether or not to expect more guards. Bill readjusted his grip on the fat wizard's wand. His palms felt sweaty.
'Do you think this is the site from the scarab?' asked Anne, her own wand still out.
'Must be....listen. I hear voices ahead.'
The stairs led into a large chamber filled with pillars. Off to each side were small hallways and alcoves. Lamps had been hung at intervals throughout the room, lighting it softly.
The followed the voices down a hall past niches containing altars and sarcophagi. Even whilst preparing for a fight, Bill couldn't help but be curious about its meaning.
'These coffins. They wouldn't be kings. What then? Priests? Slaves?'
Anne hushed him.
'First things first.'
The hall ended in another chamber. This one was very well-lit. All the walls were covered in beautiful paintings except one which contained a large stone door -- the same style door as had come crashing down on Bill and the Professor on their last expedition.
Anne pointed at two figures who stood before the door, surrounded by smoking braziers. One was the man from the lorry. Closer now, they could see his hair was cropped so closely to his head he might be bald. His body was thick and compact and part of his ear was gone.
The other man wore western clothes but his face was concealed by an elaborate headscarf, revealing only the colored lenses of sunglasses. He carried a wand, which made him Bill's first target.

'Expelliarmus!'
The wizard was knocked backwards, his wand landing a few feet from him. The butler made to move at them, but Bill tutted with his wand.
'Don't try it, Jeeves.'
'Who are you?' Anne demanded.
The wizard who had been disarmed rubbed his sore wrist and flexed his fingers.
'Expelliarmus? How very Hogwarts of you.' He removed his headscarf and smiled.
Bill recognized the sandy hair and prissy features instantly. He saw also that the scarf concealed an ascot.
'Fentington-Barrett!'
'How do you do?' Fentington-Barrett bowed at the waist. After no one said anything he looked up, aggrieved. 'Well, Weasley, aren't you going to introduce me to your lady friend?'
Bill just stared.
'I'm Anne Strathmore, Gringotts curse breaker.'
'Delightful. Have you met Bazzer?' Fentington-Barrett gestured towards the butler. 'My manservant. Absolutely indispensable.'

Bazzer walked forward to offer them his hand but Bill and Anne stepped back quickly.
'Don't move,' instructed Anne, 'and throw your wand to the ground.'
Bazzer held up his empty hands and laughed a harsh, guttural laugh.
'Don't have one, do I?'
'Bazzer is a Squib,' explained Fentington-Barrett. 'A most unique one. Demonstrate, Bazzer.'
Bazzer smiled and advanced towards Bill at a walk.
Bill didn't hesitate.
'Stupefy!' The spell hit Bazzer square in the chest, causing his servant's livery to smoke at the place of impact. Instead of falling to the ground, though, Bazzer actually sped up -- lunging the few steps to Bill.

Bill was so surprised he was unable to get out another spell before Bazzer's fist had slammed with the force of a Cockney freight train into his chest.
'Petrificus totalus!' cried Anne, but once more the spell exploded harmlessly off the Squib's body.
Bill stumbled back, winded by the punch. Bazzer dropped to the ground and with a sweeping kick to Bill's legs sent the young man crashing to the stone floor.
Anne took aim once more as Bazzer turned his mad eyes upon her, but before she could utter a word she was jolted by electric current. Fentington-Barrett had regained his wand and a thin stream of lightning poured forth from it, sending Anne into convulsions.
'Not exactly Hogwarts, is it? I went to Hermes Trismegistus Academy, you see.' He smiled as Anne writhed, her muscles contracted and spasming with the fluctuations in current.
'Stop it!' shouted Bill. He reached for his wand on the floor but Bazzer's steel-capped boot connected with his head, causing an explosion of light and stars behind his eyes.
'As I was saying...' Fentington-Barrett let the tip of his wand drop and the electrical arc vanished. Anne collapsed into a limp pile beside Bill. 'Bazzer is a most amazing specimen. Isn't that so, Bazzer?'
'If you say, sir. Wouldn't know, meself.'
'Unique among Squibs! He is unable to even manage a Sugar Quill properly. You may have noticed that our lorry is a standard Muggle version but for one or two enchantments for storage.'
Bill groaned.
'Yes, I digress. My point is that Bazzer is as immune to magic as he is unable to use it. He is completely apart from the magical world, as it were. Fascinating, isn't it?'
'Go to hell,' suggested Bill helpfully.
Anne was unconscious but seemed to be breathing.
'You won't get away with this. The Ministry...' Bill struggled to get to his feet. He couldn't see his wand.
'Bugger the Ministry. I'm completely in my rights here! To paraphrase International Wizarding Law 2056.b, subparagraph H, "Of Antiquities, Treasures, Hoards and Their Ownership" -- finders keepers.'
Bill looked up just in time to see Bazzer step over him, the Squib's fist growing larger before his eyes. ''Night, sir.'
Then everything went black.

When Bill awoke he found himself lying in a cold, cramped box. As his brain began to function again he realised it was a sarcophagus. As he tried to rise, a wave of nausea and dizziness overtook him and he nearly retched.
'Don't strain yourself, Bill. It's unhealthy.' He saw Fentington-Barrett's face disappear over the rim of the stone coffin and then, very unceremoniously, Anne was dumped in atop him.
'There's some company for you.'
Bill tried to budge past Anne's unconscious form but was unable to before a loud grinding sound and gradual darkening of the coffin's interior told him the lid was being replaced.
'You won't get away with this, I tell you!'
The sarcophagus lid slid over him leaving only a crack of about a hand's width.
'But Bill, I already have.' And with one last jerk the coffin was sealed, lid locking into place.
Now in total darkness, Bill tried to find a means of escape, but instead found only a suffocating, dreamless sleep.