A Clockwork Sphinx

Bill groaned. He could feel every aching inch of his skin, every twitching muscle. Something pleasantly cool and moist was pressed against his forehead. He wouldn't have minded, except it smelled faintly of wet camel. Voices spoke in low tones somewhere in the room, but he couldn't make out their words. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to move his head again, so looking for the owners of the voices was out of the question. His head felt like it had been encased in lead and filled with cotton; a singularly unpleasant experience.

Gentle hands touched his temples and he felt a wonderful coolness spread as the pain eased. Without the pain he could sense things more clearly. From the echoes he could tell he was in a large room. He was lying on a wooden table. There were two people talking in a corner, someone was pressing the cool but smelly cloth of some sort against his forehead and his long red hair was unbound. He didn't have his shoes, or his shirt or his trousers. Ok, so there was a cloth of some sort draped modestly over his torso, but still! Naked in a room full of strangers was not a good situation to be in.

Bill's eyes snapped open. The glare from the sun made him wince. He put a shaky hand up to shade his eyes and found himself staring directly into the golden eyes of a lioness. He then did what anyone would have done in that situation. He screamed.

Bill scrambled off the table, losing the cloth in his haste. The man in the corner and the boy he'd been conversing with stopped and turned to stare at him. Quickly they began making placating noises and speaking in soft words. Why weren't they worried about the presence of a lioness! He turned around. The lioness was gone. A woman in her early forties stood on the opposite side of the table, a single eyebrow arched in mild amusement/annoyance. She crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips. Bill had a quick mind, so he added two and two together; an animagus. He blushed furiously and snatched the cloth from the floor and quickly wound it around his hips.

"Sorry about that," he said, "You really startled me." The woman frowned then said something to the man in the corner who answered back in the same language.

"Fantastic. They have no idea what I'm saying. Worse I have no idea what they are saying," Bill thought to himself. He decided the best thing to do would be to try and find his wand, and then try a translation spell. The man sent the boy off on some errand and the kid took off down the hall, topknot flying out behind him, sandeled feet slapping the ground. The man spoke to the animagus. The woman answered in a dry tone and then did the most interesting transfiguration he had ever seen.

Her head and neck transformed into that of a lioness while the rest of her body remained human. The merge of human and animal was hidden behind her ornate gold and lapis collar. She tossed her head and twitched her ears, settling several earrings in order. He gaped openly at her as she collected her things into a neat satchel. The animagus nodded to the man in the corner and then swept from the room. Bill watched her leave and then turned his attention back to the man.

He wore a leopard skin over a simple linen tunic and woven belt. He'd shaved all his hair off and sported a deep tan. The animagus and boy had also been wearing linen Bill's still foggy brain told him. Linen wasn't the typical clothing of either Wizards or Muggles in Egypt where cotton was popular. He was still in Egypt though, but he wondered where exactly the thrice be damned Sphinx had sent him.

The man started speaking to Bill, obviously trying to get him to do something from the way he was gesturing. Bill finally got the idea that the man wanted him to sit on the table. Bill did so, then began trying to ask about his wand. He wasn't sure what would happen if he tried to use Accio. If the wand was locked someplace and he tried to summon it, it could be severely damaged. The man frowned as he tried to understand what Bill was saying. Bill finally gave up on speaking and tried to pantomime using a wand and drawing its shape in the air. This only produced confusion however and Bill was immensely grateful when the boy raced back into the room, a bundle clutched to his chest.

"There are my clothes!" Bill exclaimed and thanked the boy. The boy seemed to understand the meaning behind the words even if he didn't understand them. He put his clothes on as the man and boy spoke to one another. By this time he had decided that the man was speaking what had to be a dialect of Ancient Egyptian. He'd heard of small secretive communities speaking dialects closer to the original than even what the Coptics spoke, but he'd never met anyone from one of those villages.

He searched his trouser pockets and found his wand. He quickly checked to see if the anti-wearing wards were still on his light trousers and shirt. Satisfied that his clothing wouldn't fall to pieces next time he encountered a nasty curse, he checked to see if his dragon leather vest was intact. Finding it was indeed intact, he started on his next task; thinking of an appropriate translation spell.

From their dress and from what he'd heard of their language, Bill suspected that these people were one of the very rare groups who lived much as their ancestors had for thousands of years. Even though they were mostly muggles, these small groups lived in unplottable areas across Egypt and rarely interacted with the rest of the world. The last encounter had happened more than ten years ago and no one had been able to find the small village since. Bill surmised that he had been pulled there (or to another such village) by the Sphinx's portkey.

He had a basic grasp of writing Ancient Egyptian since he'd had to read so many curses as part of his job, but he was sure that if he tried to speak, he wouldn't make any sense at all. One of the many reasons for this was that the complex hieroglyphs and simpler hieratic the ancients had left hadn't included any vowels. But perhaps these people had learned other languages. Knowing he wasn't the best at ancient Greek, Bill tried some Latin.

"Salve!"

No verbal response but he did get some odd looks. Bill scratched the back of his head as he pondered a way out of this situation. He needed to find out where he was and how to get back to Cairo. If he survived the Goblins, he'd go back and have words with that Sphinx. No doubt he'd failed the last (very bizarre) question after all and this was her 'humane' way of getting rid of treasure seekers. Bill pushed aside thoughts of revenge for the moment and focused on the task at hand.

If he could get writing implements, Bill reasoned, he could possibly ask for directions by writing his questions. Of curse he wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to verbally convey that he needed parchment and a quill. He mentally reviewed the contents of his sack, trying to remember if he'd brought anything he could write with. The man and boy had resumed their conversation as Bill was dressing and were speaking in low tones so as not to be heard. Not that it mattered since he couldn't understand a word they were saying. He didn't think he'd brought a self inkling quill and resolved to include one as soon as he got back to his flat. He had a sudden insight. Hadn't he been tripping over his translation spell book for weeks now? He'd kept meaning to put it back on the shelf, but he'd always forgotten. Bill looked around the room and found his equipment sack on a stool in the corner. He retrieved it and began pawing through the contents.

Eventually he realized he had an audience. The man and the boy were watching him with interest as he continued to pull items from the bag. On the table he now had a magical compass, his miniaturized boom, his emergency tent, several maps of Egypt, a few protective talismans, a Never-Burn-Up torch, a few official scrolls from Gringotts proving he was allowed to break curses, a treasure sack, the cornucopia, a bottle of water and, yes, the translation book.

"Found it!" he told the man and boy, who looked at him quizzically. The boy poked the cornucopia cautiously and an apple rolled out. He laughed and began gesturing wildly to the older man who nodded. Bill began flipping though the index of the book.

"Here we go!" he said aloud. "A spell for when the Sphinx in question only speaks Ancient Egyptian, or when confronted by an Egyptian ghost." Bill pointed his wand at himself and uttered the spell, "Translatorum Egyptus!" Bill turned to the man and boy.

"Can you understand me now?" he asked.

"Yes! You speak out language now and could not before. You must have magic," the man said.

"Where are you from?" the boy asked, "And why didn't you do this before? Why did you wait?"

"Yes," the man said," I would like to know those things too."

"Well when you took my clothes, you took my wand," Bill explained. "That and I only just remembered I had that handy translation book."

"A wand! You must be a doctor then!" the boy said cheerily. Bill decided the boy was probably 8 or 9. The man was somewhere in his early forties.

"Er, no I'm not a doctor," Bill told the boy, wondering what this possibly had to do with having a wand. He soon got his answer.

"But only doctors have wands." The boy looked confused. Bill was certainly confused. Perhaps it was a local thing.

"That is true," the man agreed with the boy, "I see your wand is not a normal one either." The man held out his hand and after a moment, Bill handed his wand to him.

"What do you mean it's not normal?" Bill asked. All the wands he'd ever seen had been made the same way; wooden casing and magical core. Though he'd heard of elaborate metal and combination wands, he'd never seen one as they were both expensive and hard to control.

"Wands are made of hippo tusk, everyone knows that," the boy stated.

"Perhaps they do not have hippos where he comes from, Menmaatre," the man scolded gently as he handed Bill's wand back to its owner. The boy nodded.

"Well, we don't have hippos where I come from, you are correct about that. Where I come from we put a magical core in wood. The core of my wand is a dragon heartstring for instance."

"What's a dragon?" the boy asked.

"You don't have them here. They are giant lizards that breathe fire, and have wings and very bad tempers," Bill explained as the boy's eyes grew wider. "They're huge too. Most are bigger than houses. The biggest couldn't fit his head in this room."

"I think I like our wands better. Hippos aren't nearly as frightening," the boy said sincerely. Bill chuckled.

"Very true. But I'm not sure their temper is any better." Bill winked. The boy laughed.

"Menmaatre, why don't you go see if the others need your assistance. You will have time to speak with our guest later."

"Ok," the boy said grumpily, shuffling his feet as he left. The man waited for the kid to be well out of hearing range before he spoke again. Bill began repacking.

"You appeared in the midst of our morning prayers in a great beam of light. You caused quite a stir," the man said as he watched Bill repack his case.

"I did? I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to, really. Would you believe that I really don't even know where I am?" Bill shrugged. "All I remember is talking to a Sphinx and she completed the spell and I woke up here. I think it was a portkey of some type. You don't happen to know anything about it, do you...?" Bill waited for the man to supply his name.

"I am called Ptahhotep. I am the Chief Priest of Ptah. You are in the God's temple in the city of Mennefer, the Capitol."

"I'm Bill. Bill Weasley. Wait, Mennefer?" Bill blinked as he did a quick name translation. He was in Memphis? Aside from the surprising fact that one of these hidden enclaves was so close to a modern city, he was very far from where he'd been. "I was more than two hundred Kilometers from here before I blacked out." Bill was shocked. But then the portkey had been especially strong so perhaps being so far away wasn't a complete impossibility.

"You mentioned you were speaking with a Sphinx? A dangerous task to be sure as they are both powerful and sly creatures." That was true enough, Bill decided.

"Yes I was. In fact I was at a place called the Temple of the Waiting Sphinx." Perhaps the priest had heard of the temple before and would know what exactly had happened. Unfortunately Bill was not rewarded with a look of dawning comprehension.

"I have not heard of such a place. What God lives there?"

"Uh, I don't think any god lived there. There was a mechanical sphinx in it though." Bill sighed when he saw the confused look on the priest's face. "Never mind. Well at least she didn't kill me." Bill hefted his sack onto one shoulder. "I have to get back to Gringotts and face the goblins. At least I'm fairly close to Cairo. No sense in drawing out the inevitable, right?" Bill flashed a crooked smile and began walking towards what he thought was a door outside. "Thank you for your help. Can I pay you for your kindness?" Bill mentally reviewed the number of galleons he had and wondered what use they would be in a village like this. He would give all the money he had on him to the man, he felt so lucky to be alive.

"Goblins? What is a Goblins? And where is Gringotts? I have not heard of that town before. Who is the patron God there?" The man followed Bill outside.

"Well I suppose not everyone uses the goblins to keep their money safe, especially in a place like this I guess. But I was sure that Men...ne....fer....Oh my." Bill had been about to say he'd been sure there was a branch near Memphis, but the words died in his throat. The sack slid off Bill's shoulder to the ground as he gaped.

"What?" the priest asked. The stranger, Bill, was staring out onto the city in a most peculiar way. The priest looked from Bill to the city and back again. The view was impressive but certainly it had never caused anyone to look so, well, afraid.

"Oh, boy." Bill swallowed. This was a balcony courtyard in a massive temple complex. The temple was built on the rise towards Mt. Rahina. From here he had a clear vantage point for miles around. Small reed boats drifted on the shimmering Nile in the distance. At the river's edge and even further away, across the river, huge farms were being worked by men and animals. More men worked the shoufas which drew water from the river to irrigate the fields. The mud brick buildings were all white washed and shone in the desert sun. An old white stone wall enclosed much of what looked like older city, but the city had outgrown this boundary and spread for miles beyond it only to be enclosed by another wall. Hundreds of people bustled in the market below his high vantage point. He was close enough to hear the din of merchants, performers, tradesmen, annoyed camels, even more annoyed camel owners. There were no cars, no street lights, no modern clothing, no telephone wires, no tourist stops. The sculptures were all intact and the paint fresh and vibrant.

"Are you all right?" the priest asked.

"No," Bill answered truthfully as he gazed around, feeling oddly detached.

To the west were the pyramids and the massively sprawling necropolis. But he'd never seen any of it like this. He could see to Saqqara. The great stepped pyramid was beginning to show its millennium of wear at the edges, but it was almost wholly intact. It stood, a giant crouched in the distance, looming over its smaller, though younger brethren.

"Perhaps you should sit. You shouldn't have stepped into the midday sun after arriving so roughly," Ptahhotep cautioned, taking Bill's elbow. He didn't hear him.

The need for a translation spell, the long uncomfortable portkey journey, the clothing, the amazing ability of the animagus. Bill's mind worked to comprehend what had happened, how it had happened and even why it had happened. He wasn't in a village populated by people who lived as their ancestors had. His mind ground to a halt; these were the ancestors.

The rational mind couldn't accept this, and Bill began trying to think of any other possible explanation. Finding none, he hesitantly reached into his back pocket and pulled out the now quite battered map of Egypt. He wanted to see where he really was. Perhaps it was all a hoax and he could laugh about it over a pint at the Quizzical Sphinx. He groaned as he read what the map had to say. "Where is not as important as When. So take a wild guess, genius."

"Odd, fellow," Ptahhotep said to another of his order as the second priest joined him on the balcony, "I wonder if all this fainting is usual for him."