Starring: Ron

Molly Weasley entered the room and rushed over to her youngest son, who was lying immobile in the bed.

"Oh, what have you done now?" she moaned. "Always getting hurt."

She clucked her tongue in disapproval but began smoothing his hair anyway. His arm hurt horribly and the back of his head as well. He tried to reach back and touch his head at the point of pain but could not manage to bring his arms up. He vaguely recalled smashing arm first into a bludger while the other crushed the back of his head...the rest was black.

"Harry, Quidditch...you always pick dangerous things," Molly muttered. She thought he did not hear her but he did.

The scene froze before him and he rose out of bed and walked directly into the Hogwarts' library. Ron smiled wickedly at Hermione and leaned down to kiss her just below her delicate jaw line. He felt several curls brush against his forehead and nose and felt her body tense as she leaned into his kiss and her books slipped from her arms onto the floor. Passing a hand through the gap in the front of her robes he brushed an already tense nipple as he worked his lips down her neck. She stifled a moan and brought up her hand to bat at his arm.

"Ron," she whispered. "Ron, oh God, stop it...not here...we have to stu-......mmmmmmm...honestly...we have to study. Someone will-"

He cut her off abruptly as he brought his lips to hers. He traced her lips with his tongue and she readily opened her mouth to spar - not verbally this time. He pushed her against a bookcase and wrapped an arm around her slight frame. She was moving her hands over his body when they heard a discreet cough. They sprang apart; Hermione with a guilty look and Ron grinning madly. Harry looked back at them, also grinning, and sat down at a table, silently inviting them to join him.

~o~

Ron awoke with a start to see Bridgette's face close to his. She stood back abruptly with a grin.

"Wondered what you were dreaming about," she said with a smirk. She wiggled her eyebrows before she went on, "You looked decidedly...wicked."

"I was just thinking about...old friends."

"Friends, eh?" She emphasized 'friends' with a naughty wink. "Don't you see them anymore?"

"No, we're all really busy. I mean, I should've visited them; I was the one with the least important job. But, I was just so caught up in it all."

He looked entirely dejected and lonely. He FELT dejected and lonely.

She reached out and ran her hand down his cheek. "Doing what you love is important too," she said. "What makes their jobs any more important than yours?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, implying that she honestly did not know anything. "Ha!" he barked. "Quidditch...saving the world from You-Know-Who...I wonder which is more important?" Sarcasm dripped liked the Niagara.

The question was, of course, rhetorical and she did not answer. He instantly regretted his harsh words. She did not know who he was or who his friends were. Why should anyone know the name Ronald Weasley was connected with such famous names as Harry Potter and Hermione Granger?

"Why did you choose Quidditch?" she asked quietly.

"There was nothing else for me. They asked me to join them and I did. How could I not? I thought it was everything I wanted. But it only left me feeling...dispassionate about life."

"And why have you chosen this?"

He gave a sardonic grin. "Because Bill thought it was a good idea. He said he thought I would be good for the job; that the job would be good for me. What else was there for me?"

He looked uncomfortable now. He had just revealed his personal insecurities to someone he barely knew. She must think he was a total wanker.

But all she said was, "Maybe it is, Ron, maybe it is."

~o~

Three days later Ron found himself back in the sandy depths of the tomb. They passed through the 'poxy pixie pit', as Ron thought of it. They also passed another two rooms that had been cleared in his absence. He felt a twinge of regret and shame that he had been incapacitated for their excavation.

They entered into a dark and foreboding room. The place was spacious and ominous and Ron found himself moving closer to Bill. They set about lighting the sconces on the wall by hand. Ron, again, coloured while remembering the incident in the 'poxy pixie pit'. The darkness seemed to swallow the flames leaving the room murky and creepy.

The trio approached a stone tablet set into the wall. Bill used the Translation Charm and they examined it silently, Ron working his lips as he read:

Here I lie, alone within

My people turn and destroy my world

I worked so hard to make for them

To know and worship the only true god, Aten

So here I stay while my spirit wanders

To be again with my father

My son, the king, is good and knows the way

He has cursed this place in which I lay

So none who come to rob my corpse

And keep me from my deserved afterlife

May succeed

Live and go free

They must face his wrath

He who directed this epitaph

"Oh my God," Bill breathed.

"What?" asked Ron tremulously.

Bill was silent for a moment. "The curse that surrounds this is...amazing. I've never seen anything like it. This could take forever!"

Bridgette meanwhile worked something else out. "It's Akhenaten!" she exclaimed.

"What?" Ron asked again.

"The pharaoh! No one has ever found his body! This MUST be him. He was the only one who believed Aten was the only god."

Ron vaguely remembered hearing something of the sort from her.

"His son, Tutankhamun, must have moved Akhenaten's body from his tomb to this one knowing that the people would want to separate the former Pharaoh from the afterlife. Of course, he didn't order it; his mother Nefertiti would have, but all the same..." She trailed off, looking rapturously at the inscription.

She and Bill began working out the curse on the tablet and Ron stood stupidly to the side. He listened carefully to the snatches of conversation, but did not understand what they were saying. That was reasonable...he knew nothing about curse breaking and Charms had never been his best subject.

After what seemed like days of listening patiently, Ron walked around the room examining the inscriptions on the wall. He tried the Translation Charm Bill had taught him for this language on one of the sections and was rewarded with something he could understand, albeit slightly sloppy writing.

He stood quietly reading when, suddenly, he felt something clammy touch his right hand. He looked down but saw only uniformly inky black. He resumed his reading until he felt something slimy envelop the entire right side of his body. Before he could get out a proper yell the thing covered his mouth.

He began breathing rapidly through his nose, almost hyperventilating. The thing saved him this possible problem by covering his entire face making breathing, at all, impossible. The only thing Ron could think was, 'Lethifold, dear God! This isn't the tropics...dear Lord, help me! I don't KNOW the Patronus!' He started to become light-headed and his vision blurred at the edges. At the very lip of his consciousness, his mind poised to dive into the infinite ocean of black, he heard muffled cries and was released. Falling limply to the floor he could barely make out the cloak-like creature sliding away, the flickers of flame reflecting off its folds.

He stared dumbly up at Bill, then Bridgett from his seated position on the floor. Noting their worried expressions he dropped his head into his hands and tried, desperately, not to cry.

~o~

Ron sat, dejected, in his brother's armchair, staring blankly at the mess surrounding him. He had his fingers steepled together under his chin. His left foot was tapping rhythmically against the hard floor. He sighed and dropped his face into his cupped hands and let out a strangled shout.

Bill entered from the kitchen, looked sympathetically in Ron's direction. He sat down next to Ron and touched a warm mug of tea against his tensed arm. Relaxing slightly, Ron took the mug and gingerly sipped a bit to make sure of the temperature.

Bill settled back and said simply, "Tell me."

Ron just groaned.

"I'm serious, Ron, tell me. You can't be like this all the time. I want you to tell me. I'm your brother...I'm here for you," he finished.

Ron raised his head and looked his brother in the eye. He sighed and lowered his own to the floor.

"I'm just not good enough, Bill. How could you ever think I would be right for this?"

Ron had expected his brother to laugh at him or maybe punch him, good-naturedly in the arm and say, 'No worries, mate. You'll get over it soon enough.'

Instead Bill nodded to himself and began seriously, "Because you are. You may not have much experience yet but this is something you can do. I know it. You may not have any common sense..."

Ron flinched at this harsh truth.

"But you have a mind like a steel trap when it comes to sticky situations that are in your terrain. Your problem is that you don't know enough. There's nothing wrong with you. You don't think I was an expert when I started, do you? My partners must have had to save my life fifty times in the first year. We only went on assignment twelve times." At this point, Bill raised his eyebrows and smirked, though his face was still serious.

He pointed to a door Ron had not been through yet. "That's my library. Use it whenever you want. There is a reason we read so much. Our lives depend on our overall knowledge. This assignment proves it to you. You only won through the first trial because you understood what was going on with the game. How many people know about Hounds and Jackals?" he asked.

"The Egyptian Piranha Pixies are extinct, or so we thought. Why would anyone want to learn what to do in the case of a pixie bite for an extinct creature? Yet, if Bridgette and I did not know, you would be dead. The Lethifold does not belong in Egypt; this is a desert. My point is: you don't have to be a genius to do this job. You do have to know a lot of practical application and do a lot of research. This job is hard work. But I've learned more in my position here than probably Charlie in Romania, or even Dad. All the knowledge learned enriches your life."

Bill leaned forward conspiratorially, "And now, more than ever, we NEED to know practical application for numerous possible circumstances. You-Know-Who is coming back, Ron. When the time comes for us to fight, who do you think will be most helpful, a person who knows extensive information on one subject or someone who can work out a solution for almost any situation?"

Bill sat back and studied Ron for a moment. With a final appraising look, he nodded and stood up. "Think about it." With that, he went back to the kitchen.

Ron relaxed into his chair and thought hard about everything Bill had said, especially about the last part. Yeah, it may be a lot of work. But he admired Bill and looked up to him. He knew that others came to Bill with a lot of messy situations and he could always help them out. His brother was so sure of himself. Was that because he knew so much? Ron did not think so. Bill is confident in his abilities. Is this not the very foundation of confidence: knowing that one can succeed; 'a feeling or consciousness of one's powers or of reliance on one's circumstances'?

This was exactly what Ron wanted and needed. Bill was giving him the best gift possible: Confidence. He resolutely stood and strode through the library door, promising himself that he would be the best bloody Strategist Gringott's had ever employed!

Bill stood in the archway, half-hidden by the wall. He wiped his wet hands on a dishtowel and smiled to himself. Ron would be all right.

~o~

For next few days, Bill, Bridgett and Ron returned to the darkened room that housed the tablet. These times Ron stood close to Bill and Bridgette and listened to everything they said, asking questions when he did not understand. Bridgette looked at him strangely, once, and shot a questioning look at Bill. He just gave her a small smile and nod and continued examining the curse.

Finally, on the fifth day, Bill and Bridgette managed to break the complex curse. Bill gave a boyish whoop and Bridgette just grinned madly. Ron smiled at both of them and waited impatiently for something to happen.

The tablet slid back into the wall and up to open into a room that was so bright it hurt their eyes. Enchanted torches decorated the walls and their light danced on piles of gold and jewels. Bill cautiously entered the room and searched for signs of dark magic. Finding none he beckoned Bridgette and Ron in.

They surrounded a golden coffin decorated heavily and etched with a relief of the Pharaoh. Bridgette reached down and traced the face with her fingertip. Slowly, a smile hitched up the corner of her mouth and tugged the rest of her mouth to join it.

"It's him," she breathed.

Bill winked at Ron and said, "She's a witch first, archaeologist second."

Oblivious, Bridgette drank in the sights. She glided around the room pointing at objects and announcing to everyone, and no one, everything they wanted, and did not want, to know about them.

~o~

Bill reported their success to Giminy and the goblin handed each of them a large, jingling sack. They headed out of the office and into wizarding Cairo.

Looking curiously into his bag, Ron was delighted to see all galleons, lots of them; more than he had had his entire life!

Still admiring the contents of his bag he asked, "What happens to all the treasure?"

"They send collectors to get it," Bill replied.

"And we'll probably be interviewed... The discovery of Akhenaten's body is significant. We'll be interviewed by both wizards AND muggles." Bridgette looked positively ecstatic.

Bill just winked at Ron and they walked to Khaleed's Kebabs for lunch. Bill treated, for two reasons he said,

"Bridgette shouldn't have to pay and, Ron, it's your first assignment and you're still alive! We celebrate!"

The three had a wonderful time just talking about nothing at all. Ron's smile sagged when he thought of another trio he still longed for, but shook his head and raised his mug.

"To new friends and new times. Cheers!"

He drained his mug in one shot and set it down loudly. Looking into the empty mug he paused. He wished he could swallow his memories so easily.