The Servants of Egypt

Chapter Three

Jim and Olivia went back to her room at the Nile Hilton, because she wanted to write to her mother before talking to Clark Croaker. When they entered the room, an eagle owl, perched on the bedside table, looked at Jim with a baleful eye. Jim didn't think much of the kitschy pharaonic-theme décor, but he had to admit that the view was spectacular and the hotel was convenient.

"Mine is bigger," Jim told Olivia casually, as she dumped her bag onto the bed.

"Excuse me?" She gave him a haughty look.

"My bathroom. It's bigger," Jim said, pointing across the room.

"This hotel was built before the Ramses," began Olivia. "It was the first international chain hotel in Cairo. Your hotel is designed for tour groups and business clients. The amenities are bound to be different in a newer hotel, but I like this one better. It's right between the Nile and the main square. What could be better? I'm glad I got into the old section, though. The annex is not as nice."

"I've got to admit, the location is good," Jim said. "I'm surrounded by main roads. You take your life in your hands walking around. If I can't Apparate, I take taxis."

He watched her as she took a sheet of parchment and a quill out of her suitcase. She began to write, in a graceful, clear hand.

Dear Mum,

It's been hard to find out anything, but I have a few leads. Money and access has been a problem. I think I've found a way to deal with that.

Harry and Luna Potter gave their son Jim a trip to Egypt for his graduation present. I met him in the bazaar and he seems to fancy me. I'm going to take advantage of the situation. I'm sure all of our friends will be amused to find out that Potter money is finally being put to good use.

I'll keep in touch. Don't worry.

Love,

Olivia

She glanced up. "Cold enough for you?"

"Ouch!" Jim answered, in a good-natured way, as the owl flew off. "Now it's my turn."

"What do you mean?"

"We have to get the wheels moving on the other side," Jim answered, and picking up the tote bag she'd left on the bed, he handed it to her. She took it puzzled, then gasped as he suddenly wrapped both of his arms around her, crushing her to him. Her soft hair brushed his cheek, and it seemed as if every inch of their bodies were touching. She clung to him as she heard a familiar cracking sound and a moment later, they Apparated into his room at the Ramses Hilton. They were standing right in front of the door to the balcony, which overlooked the Nile.

Olivia pushed herself away from him, and glared. "You might have warned me about what you were trying to do!"

"I'm a Potter. We don't give anything too much thought. We just do it," Jim told her, walking over to his locked luggage.

"So I've heard," she said, icily.

"I want you to hear what I say, but you must stay out of sight. Can you promise to do that? Don't stand too close."

"I've already been much closer to you than I ever planned on being," Oliva said, but then her attention was diverted by the small package he was taking out of his luggage. "Is that a two-way mirror?"

"Yes. My parents have the other one," Jim said, unwrapping the mirror.

"Why is it so foggy looking?"

"It's a very old family heirloom. It got broken a long time ago. My dad had it repaired, and it works, but it's not quite as good as it was originally. Now step back."

Olivia did as she was told, moving next to Jim's bed, out of the way, as Jim spoke into the mirror. "Mum? Dad? Can you hear me?"

He waited a moment, and then his mother's face came into view. "Sweetheart! You've arrived safely?"

"Yes, and I went to the bazaar first thing this morning, in honor of you. Where's Dad?"

"He went to help Uncle Ron with something. How's the weather? I wish you had waited awhile. It would have been much less hot if you had held off until October or November. Of course it would have been much more crowded, too. Did you bring lots of sunscreen?"

"Yes, Mum, but I don't have your pale skin, remember? Lily and Kiya burn. I never do." Jim paused. "Listen, I didn't get the mirror out to discuss the weather. I wanted to talk to you about something personal. I wanted to tell you about a girl I met."

"Already?" Luna's silvery eyes sparkled mischievously. "You do get through them, don't you? Be careful, though, won't you? I don't know how your father would feel about an Egyptian daughter-in-law, although he went out with a few exotic looking girls, himself at one point. Ask him about Padma Patil and the Yule Ball sometime. "

"She's not Egyptian," Jim answered, trying to picture his father with a dark-haired woman. Harry was so devoted to his blonde wife that Jim had always assumed his father had always fancied that type of girl. "She's blonder than you are...an absolutely gorgeous girl. She's a tourist like me. Her name is Oliva and she's from the continent, but her parents were originally from England. I was wondering if you knew them. Her last name is Malfoy."

Luna didn't answer for a moment, then she said casually, too casually, "Have you met her parents?"

"No, they're not here. I don't know anything about them. She's a really nice girl, though. I like her a lot."

"I think I knew them at Hogwarts," Luna said cautiously. "Her dad didn't get along with your dad very well."

"Does that matter? I mean, I don't know what their problem was, and she probably doesn't either. I mean, she's heard of dad, but she hasn't said much about him. What does that matter now?"

"Maybe nothing. I don't know. Has she met Clark yet?"

"No, but we might see him later."

"If you do, please tell him to get in touch, won't you?" Luna said slowly. "Tell him to definitely get in touch. I must go, darling. I'll talk to you later."

The mirror went blank, and Jim looked over at Olivia. "Well, that's that. Within a day, I'll bet every wizarding relative I have will know I've met you. Within an hour, if she talks to my Aunt Ginny first. So where do we stand? I know you're supposed to be taking advantage of me as you try to get information. How about sharing some more? What have you found out so far?"

"The wizards that want Ushabti put their orders in with Aunt Bellatrix. Whatever can be bought legally is bought, and if the orders can't be filled legally, the statues are stolen. They got a couple from the British Museum, the Oriental Institute in Chicago, The Met in New York, the Museo Nazionale Romano, and the Toronto Royal Ontario."

"Oh, nice," Jim said sarcastically.

She shrugged. "You wanted to know. I'm telling you. The ones that were stolen here in Cairo were traded for gold, and taken to Luxor, where they were prepared to leave the country. My father wasn't stealing them. He was just picking them up, and Apparating them out of the various countries and taking them to Aunt Bellatrix. She gave them to whoever was doing the spellwork."

She sat down on the edge of Jim's bed and crossing her ankle on her knee, began to rub her temples. "Dad spent a lot of time here meeting with people, and a lot of time in Luxor. When he was in Cairo he stayed here, and when he was in Luxor, he stayed at the Old Winter Palace. It was decided not long ago that it was best to just work from Egypt. The best place for statues I mean. Money talks here. You can buy almost anything if you have the money to pay. There's been a black market here forever. My dad had some problems with Muggles in the Department of Antiquities, though, when it became known that he was interested in buying antiques. There's a lingering dislike here for the British and the French and my father is British and lived for quite awhile in France."

Jim sat down beside her and considered this. "Maybe we should visit Luxor."

"Let's stay in Cairo for awhile. I've put out a lot of feelers," said Olivia. "Someone may contact me soon with information about where my father is or more about what he's been doing. If he's alive, I may be able to ransom him. The big question is, was he taken by Muggles involved with the black market, or other wizards that found out about the operation and wanted in?"

"We really need my Uncle Clark," Jim said. "He's looking into this, too. I still say he might be able to help us."

"Tell him what I've told you, if you want to. Eventually I'll see him, but for now you just have to keep asking me out. We can't look like we're on the same side professionally yet. Come to my hotel. Call me. We can arrange for you to stop me on the street. I don't care, but look like you're interested."

"That won't be hard. I find you very interesting," Jim said, looking straight into her gray eyes. "And I'd love to do something about the black market."

"That may prove complicated," Olivia sighed. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd better go back to my hotel. I should be hearing from my mother soon." She started to rise, but Jim pulled her back down.

"In a minute," Jim said, reaching for the telephone. "What's the number there? At your hotel, I mean."

She looked at him oddly, but answered, "578-0444."

He dialed, and to her surprise, he asked for her. When he was told she wasn't answering, he left a message. "Please tell Miss Malfoy that James Potter called. Tell her I enjoyed our tea and I'd like to see her again while she's in Egypt. Tell her to call me at the Ramses. The number is 575-4999."

He hung up and grinned. "Now we have proof that I'm interested in you, Princess."

"Why did you call me that?" Olivia asked, intrigued.

"It seems to suit you. Why?"

"It's what my father always calls me." She looked sad, and Jim felt sorry for her.

"Tell me what he's like. All I know about him is that he and my dad didn't get along at school. Why?"

"Your father was very into Muggle rights. I expect it was because your grandmother Potter was a Muggle-born witch. My grandfather was pure Slytherin. He believed that magic should be kept in all magic families. He brought my father up to believe being pureblood counted for something."

Jim frowned. "Do you believe that?"

"I don't understand it entirely, but I do think that Muggle raised wizards have a hard time adjusting to the wizarding culture. My grandfather's views led him down the path of a Death Eater. I do think their methods were wrong, especially considering that they were following a man who was half-Muggle. Not that they knew that at the start. From what I hear, most of the most loyal Death Eaters were stunned to learn it."

"I think my father used that to his advantage when he was fighting Voldemort," Jim replied. "Dad had friends that were Muggle-born, halfblood, and pureblood. My Uncle Neville is a wealthy pureblood, and my Weasley relatives were all pureblood, until my Uncle Ron married Aunt Hermione. They had always had a soft spot for Muggles, though, and a Squib or two on the family tree."

Olivia laughed. It was the first time Jim had heard her laugh, and the sound was musical. "Hermione Granger! I've heard a lot about her! I think she affected my father deeply. My grandfather always let my father know how disappointed he was that a Muggle-born girl could beat my father in every exam. I think Dad had a bit of a crush on her, based on grudging respect. Of course, he was pledged to my mother from childhood, so he could never have acted on it. I'm glad that aspect of the wizarding culture has changed. My father has never tried to bind me to anyone. If my grandfather Lucius were still alive, he'd be horrified, but I think my father would have made the same decision even if my grandfather had survived, just to annoy him. They did not have a good relationship. Lucius Malfoy was a very abusive man, from what my mother has told me."

Jim looked at her with interest. "Tell me about your mother. No one has ever said anything to me about her."

Olivia shrugged, and stared out the window at a bird on the balcony. "It was an arranged marriage, but my mother adored my father. She was not a great beauty, and my father was very good looking when he was young. Still is, in fact. She was proud to be his wife, and she didn't care about the money. She liked to travel, so it didn't matter to her when he went into exile after his father died. If she was with dad, then she was at home. He appreciates her, more than my grandfather did my Grandmother Narcissa, from what I've heard. Lucius Malfoy liked women and had no trouble amassing quite a collection. It's one of the things my father disliked about him. He adored his mother, and didn't like to see her treated disrespectfully. It's one of the reasons I know my father is in trouble. He would never let my mother worry, and he would never abandon us."

She looked back up at him. "Your mother is a pureblood, is she not? I heard she was not very popular at Hogwarts. How did your father come to choose a pureblood wife, and one so unusual?"

Jim looked offended, but decided that since he had started prying into her background first, Olivia was within her rights to be curious about his.

"My father had a hard time at school. He was raised by Muggle relatives after his parents were murdered, and yes, it's hard to come into the magical world from that kind of situation. They were afraid of magic and abusive. He wasn't always popular at school, either. He got into trouble a lot, because of who he was, and because of who his parents were. My mother always saw him as just plain Harry Potter, not as the Boy-who-Lived, or the Boy who had to defeat Voldemort. He liked that. He didn't meet her until his fifth year, but once he did, she was always there for him. When things went wrong, she was often the one who could always pull it together, and keep him balanced. He's got a temper, too, but when he pushes my mum, she doesn't fight back, but she never backs off, either."

He shook his head, amused. "I guess my Aunt Ginny had a thing for my dad before she got involved with my Uncle Neville. I can't see that at all. Aunt Ginny's a firebrand. She could never choose not to fight. When Dad first made friends with my Aunt Hermione, a lot of people thought they suited each other, but Aunt Hermione's too literal for him. She's the exact opposite of my mother, although they're both powerful witches. My mother is an Isis witch, and that means a lot of power. That's why she's so into Egyptian history."

Olivia looked impressed. "I always wondered if there even was such a thing. It's pretty rare, isn't it? Can she talk to the gods and goddesses?"

"Dad says she can, but I've never seen her do it. I think my dad has seen her communicate with the ancient witches. He definitely said Isis made a prophecy before I was born about my coming. He said mum knew she was pregnant the moment I was conceived. It scared the hell out of my dad. Mum says with that kind of power you have a great responsibility to try not to manipulate other people, though, so she doesn't talk about it much."

"Maybe she can help us here. The ancient gods are weaker now, but they still see everything that goes on in this land."

"I don't know," Jim said. "I love Egypt, but I don't know anything about harnessing the power of the ancients. That's what the smugglers are trying to do with the Ushabti, isn't it? It seems awfully dangerous to me."

Olivia stood up. "You're right. It is." She gathered up her bag. "I must go now. I have a message waiting for me at my hotel. I must retrieve it, and roll my eyes with proper distain as I do so. Will you talk to Professor Croaker soon?"

"I'll have dinner with him tonight," Jim promised. "I'll tell him what you told me. When will I see you again, though?"

Olivia considered this. "Be in the lobby of the Nile tomorrow morning at nine. Act like you're hanging around, hoping to see me. Goodbye, Jim Potter. I hope neither of us regrets this partnership."

She vanished with a cracking sound, and he looked around the room, a bit disappointed to see her go. "Well, I know I won't," he said firmly, and went to call Uncle Clark at the museum, so he could catch him before he left work.

They made arrangements to eat dinner at the Arabesque on Shar'a Qsar al-Nil at eight-thirty. Advanced reservations were usually a must there, but Uncle Clark knew someone who could get them in. Jim thought it would be a good choice because they could probably talk there behind the mashrabiyya without being disturbed. The elegant screens were a bonus, the service was discreet, and since you entered through a hidden passage that doubled as an art gallery, it would be a logical place for a connoisseur of art like Croaker to be.

Jim took a shower, and changed into clothes more suitable for the cooler Egyptian night. He was just hoping the he could convince his uncle to go along with the plan. It wasn't ideal, but doable, and might be fun, as well. He certainly didn't have any problems with spending time with Olivia Malfoy, especially for a good cause. Her cultured look was very easy on the eyes.

He had dated a few girls at school, mostly sporty girls who had played Quidditch with him, and were friends of the family. He had gone out with Margaret Wood for almost a year. She had been a keeper for Gryffindor, the same position her father had played. His own father had admired Oliver Wood a great deal and hoped that something would come of the relationship, but there had been no passion in it, and they had managed to part as friends.

Harry and Luna had not been as pleased with his relationship with Jennifer Sloper. Her father had also played Quidditch for Gryffindor when Harry had been at school, but Jack Sloper had not been close to his parents, and Jim had never figured out why. She'd been bit of a wild child, and Jim had gotten "the talk" from his father when he'd started to date her, which had been extremely embarrassing, besides being unnecessary. Jim never had any intention of going too far with Jen. He liked snogging as well as the next fellow, but he'd been brought up to respect girls and not take them too casually. There were a lot of determined women in his family, who would have had his hide if he'd gotten a girl in trouble.

No one could ever take Olivia Malfoy casually, he thought. She was too regal in her manner, and too intelligent to be trifled with. He just hoped he could convince his great-uncle to help them find her father. Draco Malfoy might have been mixed up in some unsavory things, but Draco was still their best link to finding whoever was stealing the Ushabti and bringing them to life.

***

Draco, however was in no position to help anyone, even himself. He was walking for the hundredth time around the small room where he was being imprisoned. He cursed himself for the way he had been trapped, and by a Muggle smuggler at that. He had been given a tip about an unplundered tomb that was being stripped by black marketers, who had discovered its location. Familiar with the story of the Rasul family, who had done something similar in the nineteenth century (gradually stripping a cache for ten years before getting caught) he had bought into the story of a noble who had been buried with Ushabti.

He had left Cairo as soon as he'd gotten the tip and Apparated to his hotel in Luxor. From there he had taken a taxi and arrived at the West Bank at dusk. An Arab man dressed in a dirty galabia had led him up the hillside above a small village. This had not seemed odd to him. Every village on the West Bank had tombs concealed in the rocky hills above the areas suitable for cultivation, mostly dating from the New Kingdom, although some ranged from the Middle Kingdom into the Late Dynastic Period. Over 450 painted tombs had already been found, and Draco was not surprised at the idea that more remained to be discovered.

They reached a heavy, iron gate which his guide had opened with a large ring of keys. Once inside the gate, they had passed several large, rectangular openings that Draco recognized as tombs.

Draco realized then that the black marketer must be one of the tomb guards of Thebes. Who would be in a better position to strip a secret tomb? The guard, holding an oil lamp, had led Draco past many tombs, until they came to one last opening, They went down a narrow corridor, and into an antechamber. The light from the lamp had flickered on the walls, which were covered with painted scenes of life in everyday ancient Egypt. They were definitely in one of the tombs of the nobles. They passed some jewelry, pottery and funerary furniture that did not interest him. Then Draco saw them. A large group of glazed Ushabti figurines.

Draco felt a surge of greed that he had not felt for many years. He had not felt it since his father died. It had been before he had the responsibility of a family, before he had to flee England, that he had felt this way. It had been a long time. If he could buy these statues, he would have enough money to live on the rest of his life. He would be able to give his wife a proper home, and treat his daughter in truth like the princess he was in his heart.

"How much?" Draco asked casually. Prepared to haggle, but also prepared to pay whatever he had to pay for this group.

"We have others," the guide said casually. "In another room. Wait until you see them all before we settle the terms. This way, please."

He pointed to a doorway, and Draco went through it, straining to see in the dark. He wanted to take his wand out of his back pocket, to help light his way, but he could not. He did not know if this particular Muggle knew what he was. Their shadows danced among the Egyptian deities that adorned the walls. Ahead of him, Draco noticed a huge hole in one of the walls. He started to pass it, when he felt his wand being pulled out of his pocket. He had started to turn when the blow struck the back of his head.

As he tumbled down Draco Malfoy didn't think of Bellatrix Lestrange, or his mother or father, or even of his wife. The image of his golden child was the last thing on his mind.

"Olivia!"