Dark Lord Publishing studios proudly presents, a Fight Club Challenge by director Zenzao, with executive producer Peace...

Cursebreaking Hamunaptra
Act I - Who, what, why, where?

The chair creaked like a rusted faucet as he leaned back and stifled a yawn behind his left hand.

A pair of matching thumps followed as it settled to the cold floor again, and he dug at his eyes with the heels of each palm until his vision felt fuzzy enough to convince him he was indeed hallucinating. One of the goblins - Igh'ruhk, most likely - had finally spiked his firewhiskey. It was the only answer that made sense; the hedgewitch before him, barely more than a squib, could not possibly be real.

Yet there she sat prim as a rose, back ramrod straight, brows set in determination and button nose scrunched, fingers faintly twitching as if eager to swat at something.

The song on the wireless buzzed into another strange ballad that would have driven his mum sparse, something vaguely Germanic in its roots this time, and he pushed back from the table to stand up, walk over, and fiddle with the tuner idly in distraction - give him irate hobs, incensed veelas, and would-be dark enchanters over the uninformed, fresh-faced inquisitors and treasure seekers like her nine times out of ten.

He could always floo-call on his younger brother Charlie and send a Norwegian Ridgeback to handle the difficult issues. A faint, toothy grin spread across his lips in memory of his going-away celebration and subsequent divorce from his ex-wife.

But this?

Bill's grin dissolved as he reached up to rub at the back of his neck where a knot the size of a galleon was forming, brushing the dragontooth earring dangling from his right earlobe, and he blew out his breath in a rush.

"Look, ma'am," he finally responded. He shut off the buzzing device and turned around to face her, unable to miss the change in her now standing stance that he knew all too well - dear Fleur tended to assume the same whenever she felt particularly stubborn, arms crossed just beneath the bust, thunderous scowl predicting the weather ahead. He relaxed just a little with the knowledge that this woman at least couldn't chuck a raging fireball at his groin.

In the momentary lull between casual observation and continuing, however, she snatched the prerogative away from him.

"Now see here, Mr. Weasley, I will not be 'looked' into anything! The rude garden gnomes in the lobby directed me to your office specifically, and with rather more bitterness than I think the occasion warranted! I have tried several other locations throughout this Wizarding Britain to little avail, and I have braved worse than their scowls to do it!"

Bill winched at her misspoken term, perfectly understanding of why she had arrived on his doorstep. "Goblins," he intruded in a fierce whisper over her tirade of self-righteous indignation.

She blinked like an owl blinded by a sudden flash of light and drew back slightly. "I beg your pardon?

"The host of Gringotts where we stand are Goblins. Gnomes are scruffy imps that like to hole up in old boots and terrorize gardens throughout the British Isles." Before she could utter anything else likely to get him killed, he added, "With all due respect, ma'am, I'm a curse breaker. I don't do treasure hunts in the middle of the Egyptian desert, or the African Sahara, or the Gobi or any of the other famous searing sands, be they yellow, gray, red, or white. Gringotts has a wonderful search team you can hire to locate any lost tombs, and I recommend the Egyptian branch highly. I can floo them myself to save you the difficulty of departure and transcontinental flight."

The younger woman regained her temerity with a huff. "As I have tried to no avail long before coming here!" She drew the faded parchment from her purse anew and waved it at him like a ruler. "No one in the magical community is interested in this map, Mr. Weasley, and I can hardly go to parliament with it! They laughed uproariously at the notion of Hamunaptra and sent me on my merry way!"

Her expression wavered just a moment as her voice quieted, glancing toward the door of his office. "Ever since I have felt a deep unease. I fear I am being followed."

Bill knew what was coming before the words even spilled from her mouth like a broken treasure urn dumping its shiny goods. He exhaled and slumped down to his seat.

"Gringotts is the last location I expect I may find answers to this inquiry! If I must hire goblins-" her voice cracked for a moment over the term, as if not quite able to accept that she had uttered it seriously, "-then I will do so. I trust that they also offer a reasonable security force?"

Merlin's balls, he swore to himself, taking in the vulnerable expression she had transitioned into like a master metamorphmagus. You never could resist the doe-eyed ones. Even Fleur in her downtime, those little glimpses of flaw beneath the hard exterior.

He sat upright, drumming the fingers of his left hand out of rhythm along the edge of his desk. Gradually a beat, a tune, began to echo as he keyed in the algorithm securing his secrets from prying eyes and prying hands. The hedgewitch watched him in some fascination. Like a snake charmer at work, lines of runes came to life, slithering this way and that, untangling, unknotting, freeing up a path amidst the pattern. His right hand slipped in between gaps to pry open a drawer here, a drawer there. He fished out an assortment of tiny leathery pouches of no discernible difference and shut the desk tight. When he was done his fingers slowed, a different ballad tapping out, and the runes stirred back toward their complex inner-outer dance.

A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek as he smiled at her with that toothy grin again. "Come on, Miss Carnahan. Let's find out where that map of yours will take us after all." All three pouches vanished into his rugged jeans pockets as he swept to his feet with surprising vigor. "We'll find it in forty days and forty nights, or the expedition costs are on Gringotts, sure as the ink is red on the contract ahead."

...end of Act I.

A/N: Yup, another challenge fic out of me when I already have so many clamoring mouths in need of a good update. This one is at least a few months old already and I've got a decent headway into chapter 2 of 4. I've also made some headway into (yet again) starting Dragonrider's third chapter and Sirius Interruptions' sixth, and I've got some scrap for Iron Throne that'll probably end up in Assortiment of One Shots before much longer as I continue working on the next section. So! Thank you for your time and patience.

Regarding this story I hope you're interested in this small offering - I've got some big things planned for Bill's magic and the trials to come, plus a few other little surprises - and further chapters should more than double this initial 1000 word appetizer.