Five

Riddle Me This

Author's notes and disclaimers found in Chapter One.

Chapter Five

It cannot be seen, cannot be felt

Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt

It lies behind stars and under hills,

And empty holes it fills.

It comes first and follows after

Ends life, kills laughter(1)

She paced restlessly.

Since she'd cursed the dark-haired Tainted One, there were many comings and goings beyond the barricade, an underlying current of anxiety and haste. All was a violation of her domain.

When two women entered the antechamber, she curled her lip, revealing sharp, white, transparent fangs. How she wanted to rend these defilers limb-from-limb, afflict them curse by curse until there was nothing left but charred remains.

Muscles bunched, claws unsheathed and she hurled herself at the barricade, only to be forcibly repelled. Again.

She snarled and resumed her pacing.

A harvest sown and reaped on the same day in an unplowed field;

Which increases without growing,

Remains whole though it is eaten within and without,

Is useless and yet the staple of nations.(2)

Considering the number of harrowing events in Hermione's nearly thirty years, the forty-eight hours Severus had been in stasis shouldn't have seemed as onerous as they did. Rarely had she shouldered such a heavy burden of responsibility. Fortunately, she was able to share the burden in this instance. Penny was as competent as ever, and Lucius Malfoy hadn't absented himself from the process in any way. In fact, Lucius had proved more supportive than Hermione expected. Aside from financial backing, he lent a hand with procuring potions supplies, putting any volume or all of the books in his personal library at Hermione's disposal, and generally being the man on the spot.

Hermione sat at the table in the tent, flipping through the pages of The Sands of Time: Wizarding Artifacts in Ancient Egypt, while toying with the remains of her breakfast. She had ventured into the wizarding section of Luxor early, hoping to shake off the seemingly omnipresent negativity battering at her self-confidence. At one corner of the park where she'd met Lucius, there had been a food cart crowded with customers, wizards and boys mostly, but the few women who were present emboldened Hermione to try the local cuisine, a traditional breakfast of fuul, served with chopped hard-boiled egg and a garlicky sauce, with a side of freshly pickled vegetables. No spoons were used, just torn pieces of flatbread to scoop up the savory fava beans.

She closed the book, and retrieved her notes. Munching on a crisp pickle, she doodled on her parchment, sphinx, Egyptian, ghost. Those were the answers she knew had been given to the sphinx. Draco's answer was unknown, but she scribbled several possibilities, each consistent with his notes and theories, woman, librarian, Theban, temple guardian. She then drew a question mark next to one and an exclamation mark after another.

In truth, she was waiting for Harry's reply to her letter. While there were other avenues she could pursue for the information, he was reliable and discreet. Persephone hadn't returned, and Hermione was so irked by the delay, she decided to make a Floo call to Godric's Hollow. Fortunately, she was able to use the pot-bellied stove in the tent's kitchen.

She had forgotten the time difference, and Ginny was just setting baby James into his high-chair for breakfast in the cheery yellow kitchen. "Good morning, Ginny. Hello, James." Hermione waved at her black-haired godson, and watched his grubby little fist wave back, but then his interest was diverted by the wind blowing in the tree outside the window.

"Hullo, Hermione. Persephone's here..." Ginny looked up before sitting across from James and spooning the first bite into his gaping little maw, something like a mother bird feeding her young, "...but Harry's in Brussels 'til tonight."

Hermione muttered something unprintable, and Ginny looked a trifle shocked. "If it's an emergency, you could send your Patronus."

"It's not an emergency, but it is urgent. How's Fleur?"

Ginny put the spoon down and turned fully toward the fire, her eyes narrowed. "Phlegm's excitable as always, and has brought the girls to stay with Mum and Dad. What do you know that you aren't telling me? And where are you?"

"In Egypt, actually," Hermione replied. "I'm on assignment."

"What does it have to do with-- Oh! Is Bill with you? Is that why Phlegm is so upset? She's practically irrational these days. I assumed it was hormones and that Bill was working like a fiend so he could take time off after the baby." The redhead narrowed her eyes, and asked, "What aren't you telling me, Hermione?"

"You know I can't discuss my work. Ask Harry to reply as soon as he gets home. I need that information."

"Has something happened? Is Bill all right?"

"What part of confidentiality clause don't you understand, Gin?"

"Hermione Jean Granger!"

"Fine." Hermione rolled her eyes and regretted having made the call. She should have tried the Aurory instead of Harry's home. "I'm pushing the envelope to answer you. But yes, and yes to the best of our abilities."

"Bloody hell!" Ginny whispered in an eerie resemblance of Ron when using his favorite expletive. "Is Bill – is he ... will he live?" She sniffed. Bill was her favorite brother; he always had been.

Hermione gritted her teeth. "He will if I have anything to do with it. His life is not in immediate danger, Ginny. That's all I can say, but please, if possible, keep Fleur calm. She needs to go full term on this pregnancy, and she won't if she's hysterical."

"Do you need us to come? Harry and I can be there tomorrow."

Hermione smiled; she really did have the best friends. "Thank you, but no. It's work, and I'm abstracting the salient points, and if I can't sort it out, I'll leave a copy for Harry."

Ginny's distress visibly heightened. "What do you mean? Where will you be if you can't sort it out?"

"I'll be with Bill. I've got to go, Gin. My love to James and Harry, and please get him to read my note as soon as he can."

"Hermione, wait!"

"No, Gin. I've come too close to breaking my oath, and you know what could happen to me if I do."

"All right. I'll do my best to support Fleur, although –" she grimaced at the thought. "Why couldn't Bill have chosen someone else?"

"You mean someone we liked back then?"

"Well, yeah."

"I don't think that's the way it works. I think we have to consider our own needs and desires before the interests of our friends. If they really love us, then they'll understand."

Suddenly James pounded his hands on the tray of his chair, and he leaned forward for another bite. He was as constantly hungry as any of his uncles, and Ginny offered him more porridge. When she turned to look at Hermione again, her expression was shrewd. "Which is why you've become Fleur's friend?"

"At first, perhaps," Hermione agreed. "There's more to her than you realize. And now, I really must go. Bye, Gin!"

"Bye, 'Mione, and don't think I didn't notice what you were doing!"

Hermione had been pulling out of the green flames, but Ginny's comment pulled her back in. "What? What was I doing?"

Ginny mimicked her. "Consider our own needs and desires before those of our friends. Who is it?"

"Who is what?" She feigned incomprehension.

Ginny had always been brighter than people gave her credit. "Who is the bloke you're interested in that you think we won't like? Is he there? Are you working with him?"

"Great Circe! How do you do that?"

Ginny smirked. "I know you, and stop stalling. Who is it? A handsome curse-breaker? Someone you've met locally?"

"No, he's not a curse-breaker, and I'm not telling."

"Hermione!"

"No. Honestly. Not telling. Anyway, nothing's really happened between us."

Ginny's smile widened to an unholy grin. "No, but you want it to, don't you?"

"It's unlikely for the foreseeable future, which is why, Ginny Potter, I need that information from Harry. I really have to go now. Bye." She broke the connection and settled back on her knees. She hadn't needed to end the conversation for anything pressing other than Ginny's ability to elicit all her secrets. Aside from that horrible year at school when they had both been driven by jealousy and hormones, and the year she and Ron had split when Ginny couldn't decide whose side to take, the two had been close friends since childhood. Hermione found it very difficult to keep anything from her.

While she was on her knees, Hermione decided to get the next, unpleasant Floo call out of the way.

"Gringotts London, Bogrod." She threw another handful of gritty Floo powder into the burning fire and stuck her head back into the flames. Bogrod appeared to be in exactly the same position as the last time she'd seen him. Head bent above a parchment, quill clutched in absurdly large hands.

"Well, Granger," he commented when she finally gained his attention. "Have you fixed Weasley?"

"Not yet, but I've made progress. I have a query out to a colleague, and I'm hopeful that information will move things along."

"And Weasley?"

"There's no change. Bill remains in a healing coma along with the others."

Bogrod nodded curtly.

"This seems like a fairly promising site," Hermione said. "Do you want me to assist..."

"No." Bogrod frowned. "Gringotts has already expended more on this project than necessary. You will confine your efforts to your assignment."

"All right."

"And Granger, I expect better progress in your next report." He ended the connection as abruptly as was his nature. Hermione gritted her teeth in irritation. She'd only been on site for three, no four days.

She returned to the table and scanned the parchment on which she'd been working before taking a break for breakfast. It held a précis of the present situation, including a number of conjectures about the site and its history, as well as speculation about the origin and raison d'etre of the ghost sphinx. Hermione underlined the words ghost and sphinx a final time.

Hermione sighed and decided to see if Penny needed any assistance in the lab.

The day was already scorching and it wasn't even noon. Hermione looked forward to the permanent cooling charms regulating the temperature of the underground collegium, but when she crossed into the wizarding domain, several people were scurrying toward the south corridor and shouts for help assailed her ears.

Sudden terror that something had happened to Severus or Bill spurred her to action, and she sprinted toward the danger, pulling her wand out of its sheath as she passed through the hypostyle and toward the blocked end of the hallway beyond.

The crisis she hurtled toward wasn't facing those in the infirmary.

If the collegium's layout was consistent with others built in the same time period, and with easy access to Muggle temples in various states of reconstruction throughout Egypt, Ayman Mubarak speculated that another large chamber would be found beyond the cave-in. While Hermione had savored her fuul, the archeological team had discovered the entrance to an inner chamber, and things had gone horribly wrong shortly thereafter.

Hermione dashed past the infirmary without a glance at the brightly hued hieroglyphs depicting students reading or researching or being tutored. In the Muggle version of the collegium, rooms beyond the hypostyle were often sandwiched between it and an inner temple sanctum, and that was where Hermione ran.

The light of multiple illumination spells caused the darkened end of the corridor to glow as brightly as day, and Hermione could see Lucius and Ayman. Beyond them, two members of the team were plying their wands at a frantic pace, uncovering something in the floor. As Hermione drew near, gasping from her frantic dash, her view was unimpeded.

It wasn't an artifact they were attempting to uncover; it was a human.

In fact, it was Edouard Delacour, the team's photographer whom she had met at dinner. He was buried in solid stone to the middle of his chest, and the more the team attempted to release him, the deeper he became embedded in the rock. He wasn't speaking, and his expression was a rictus of fear and pain. His eyes were closed tightly, and the tendons on his neck were attenuated; she could see the muscles of his arms bulging as he attempted to pull his hands and arms from the stone.

"What's happened?" Hermione asked as she skidded to a stop, her heart racing.

No one noticed her. Ayman shouted directions at his workers, his assistant was busy removing the rapidly excavated sandstone, and Lucius frowned as he whipped his wand in spell after spell to release the young photographer.

Apart from the few moments in the Department of Mysteries when Death Eaters had done their best to kill Hermione and her friends, she had never seen Lucius Malfoy in action. She had dismissed his abilities then; after all, he and his brethren were defeated by a handful of teenagers. But now she revised her opinion. He was quite astonishingly skilled. With that thought, Hermione realized his actions, and those of the archeological team, weren't reversing the effects of the curse they had tripped. Quite the reverse.

"Stop, stop!" she cried, and was again ignored. "Lucius!" she yelled rather shrilly, but it had the effect she intended.

He paused, mid-cast, turned her way, and the tone of his voice was as harsh as she had ever heard. "There is little time to waste, Granger."

"I know, but you're not helping! Everyone stop! You're burying him rather than releasing him."

Suddenly, the ground beneath and around Edouard liquefied, shining wetly in the bright light, and the workman nearest him dropped into the slurry granular mess as the photographer sank to his neck. The second wizard screamed in terror.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Hermione shouted. Her stunning spell froze both victims.

Ayman spun on her, literally spitting with anger. "By the setting sun of Amun-Ra! What do you think you are doing, you stupid woman?"

Hermione's eyes widened and she backed up a step, but raised her wand defensively. "You can't fight it or you accelerate the effects of the spell."

As Ayman opened his mouth to shout at her, Lucius flicked his wand in a classic motion, causing the Field Director's diatribe to shut off in mid-syllable. Lucius had silenced him.

Ayman's eyes bulged; furiously, he grappled for his own wand, but even as his mouth moved, no words were forthcoming.

"Miss Granger is correct." The comment came from an unexpected source; Ayman's assistant.

Hermione turned toward him, and couldn't remember his name. She had considered him the silent amanuensis to Ayman's more gregarious personality. "Thank you –" she said, pausing in embarrassment.

He smiled suddenly, perfect white teeth a brilliant contrast to his dark skin. "Alex," he replied. "Alex Rosier."

Her eyes widened, and she was met with a knowing expression on the man's face. "My mother was Egyptian and of mixed parentage; a fact my father hid. When he was sentenced to Azkaban, she escaped and brought my sister and me home to live with her family. "

"I had no idea," Hermione said. "I'm sorry if I offended you."

"You didn't at all." He gestured toward the two imprisoned men. "You're quite right about the curse. Until you said something I hadn't realized how poorly our efforts were rewarded, and then I recalled reading about it at school." Alex's smiled broadened to a grin, and Hermione decided he was having entirely too much fun at her expense. "I studied archeology at Oxford after my NEWTs," he explained. "I wanted to follow in my grandfather's footsteps." He turned an affectionate look in Ayman's direction, but his question was entirely serious. "Do you know how to counter the curse, Miss Granger?"

"Once I confirm which hindering jinx we're facing." She stepped forward, smiling gratefully at Alex as he calmly directing the other, rather terrified, team member to wait in the hypostyle and then took his place beside his resentful grandfather.

"I'll tell Severus he has competition," Lucius commented as he stepped to her side.

She frowned at him, but pointed her wand at the sandstone blocks lining the corridor. Non-verbally she cast an entirely useless Finite Incantatem. "Of course it wouldn't be that easy, would it?" she murmured to herself.

Beside her Lucius sniggered.

In quick succession, Hermione cast three more spells, the last of which incorporated a jerky hooked motion which caused blue sparks to erupt from the tip of her wand, and further, to fall on the sandstone, lighting an elliptical shape around the two captured men. She bit her lip and tapped the palm of her left hand with her wand.

Lucius hadn't moved from her side, but Ayman and Alex had retreated several yards. Hermione could hear Alex's voice speaking softly in Arabic. At least they weren't interfering.

"Do you know what it is?" Lucius asked.

"Yes." Hermione looked up at him. "Don't you?" His lips pressed together until his mouth was a thin line, and she relented by saying, "Now probably isn't the time to tease you about your Dark Arts expertise. It's a Quicksand Jinx; a rather nasty spell as you can see. It was used extensively to protect burial sites around the time of the Hogwarts founders."

"Can you deactivate it?" he asked.

"Yes, but that takes time Edouard doesn't have."

Alex Rosier stepped up behind her asking anxiously, "Can't you help him?"

"Certainly. I just have to manage a work-around." She bit her lip thoughtfully while Alex fidgeted. He settled when Lucius glared at him. "It's possible," Hermione finally said, "to transfer the spell to another block of stone. That stone can then be removed to a protected location for later handling. Once that initial step is complete, it will be possible to safely extricate those who remain entombed."

Lucius muttered something about bedside manners, but he directed Alex to procure an appropriate stone. The younger man sprinted toward the forecourt.

"Where would you like it?" Hermione asked as she carefully circumnavigated her diagnostic spell's parameters, breathing a sigh of relief when she realized the jinx's entire circumference had been revealed by the excavation.

"Pardon?"

She turned to face Lucius. "Where do you want me to put the stone?"

"Directly beneath our sphinx would be my choice." Lucius smiled, and it wasn't a nice smile at all.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Hermione laughed. "The sphinx is a ghost. Besides, it's probably the one who cast..." she broke off as a large slab of sandstone floated down the hallway, followed by an anxious Penny. Later, Hermione would learn the healer had cast Muffliato on the lab and hadn't heard any of the commotion until she had completed the next stage in brewing Severus' restorative elixir.

It wasn't the arrival of the slab or Penny which had arrested her comment. Just behind Penny was a steaming red envelope clutched in the claws of an express owl navigating between the hypostyle's columns, heading in their direction. It soared above the sandstone block and flew directly to Hermione.

She groaned.

"What?" Lucius asked, turning to look at what had drawn her attention.

With grim foreknowledge Hermione opened the lurid envelope – no sense in putting off the unpleasant and possibly embarrassing task. Howlers became incendiary if ignored.

'Ermione Granger, where is my husband? Fleur Weasley's voice filled the narrow corridor, bouncing off the enclosing walls in an echo effect. Everyone within its range flinched. "If you do not have him home within three days I will find you and you will know what it means zat my grandmere was a Veela! Comprend-tu?" The sound of a woman sobbing filled the space, and Fleur's voice shook. "Please, 'Ermione, please send him home. I need him.

The Howler burst into disintegrating bits of smoking confetti.

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, and leaned her head forward so her hair hid her face. She didn't want anyone to see her tears. For all that she was enjoying the novelty of time in the field and having a challenging puzzle to solve, the very real consequences of failure were more than she wanted to contemplate. She had kept her own fears at bay by focusing on the immediate task at hand.

Hermione was so immersed in her distress, she paid no attention as the dense block of stone floated past, settling into position next to the demarcated jinx line, nor did she notice Lucius waving the others back. "Miss Granger," he said, and then when she didn't reply, "Hermione. I know you're –"

"No!" she exclaimed vehemently.

"No?"

"Don't offer platitudes. I just – just... I am not going to let an incorporeal mythical creature keep Bill from seeing his son born," she said heatedly, hastily wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "And I'm not letting Severus' ridiculously heroic gesture be in vain, and I'm not going to let Penny's hopes for a happy marriage die, and ... and..." She looked away from him, staring without seeing the brightly painted images of daily life in the once-famed magical collegium.

"And?" Lucius prompted.

"And I'm going to get your son back for you!"

He smiled. It was a genuine smile, and it was astonishingly endearing. "That would be most gratifying."

She took a deep breath and settled her nerves. "Let's get this done. I'm not waiting for Harry to get back to me."

"Why were you waiting for Potter?"

"After we sort this out I'll tell you." She spread her feet into a wide stance, balancing her wand neatly in her hand. Hermione closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. When she opened them, her eyes were darker than ever. And then she cast her spell, plying her wand like an expert, swirl, twist, jab and flick. "Transfero!"

The stone embedding the victims cracked and buckled. The entire hallway, indeed the entire collegium, shook; dust and sand fell from the ceiling. Hermione ignored the shouts of alarm from her companions, all except Lucius who stood like a colossus with his wand at the ready. She held her footing and controlled the spell. Her wand felt as if it were bucking and twisting in her hand, but slowly she sucked the vicious trap spell from the imprisoning rock at her feet.

Ethereal particles of light, in all the colors of the rainbow, separated themselves from the jinxed sandstone, and Hermione aimed the burgeoning stream at its new, temporary home. The colorful manifestation of the transferring spell appeared no more harmful than a glittering rainbow arcing across the sky. After several, tense minutes, the last colored spark of light sank into the replacement block, and she whispered, "Terminer!"

She breathed a deep satisfied sigh and rotated her head, releasing the tension in her neck and shoulders.

"Impressive," Lucius said from behind her.

She glanced at him, surprised by his entirely sincere expression. "Thank you," she said. "It's a bit tricky, and it had been left to mature for a long time. The stone should be safe to move as long as no one tries to climb on it."

Alex responded to Lucius' imperious summons, and the young wizard pointed his wand at the jinxed stone. Hermione was sure she heard him intone the first charm she'd ever learned, and she watched as he followed the enormous block down the hallway and into the Hypostyle beyond. The others, including Penny, giving the stone as wide a berth as possible.

She noticed the smirk on Lucius' face. "What?"

"Severus' competition doesn't seem to have mastered First Year Charms. Surely any adult wizard can cast Wingardium Leviosa non-verbally."

Hermione was both amused and touched by Lucius' defense of his friend, and said simply, "Severus has no competition." Then she nodded toward the jinxed victims. "A standard Extraction Spell should do the trick now."

"Allow me." Lucius aimed his wand

"With pleasure."

From the end of the corridor, Penny called out, "Will you bring them to me?"

Hermione answered, "We'll come to you," and Penny disappeared into the infirmary to prepare for their arrival.

Deftly, Lucius cast the Extraction Spells, and together he and Hermione carefully levitated Edouard and the other wizard from their imprisonment. Once they reached the infirmary and placed the two wizards on adjacent examinations tables, Hermione released them from her stunning spell. While Penny cast initial diagnostic charms on both men, Hermione joined Lucius in the corridor. Ayman and Alex had returned after placing the trapped sandstone in a dark corner of the hypostyle for later de-cursing.

While they waited for Penny's verdict, Ayman Mubarak addressed Hermione. "My apologies, Miss Granger. I'm afraid my concern overrode my manners. Please forgive my rudeness."

"It's all right. I know you were worried."

"Nonetheless..." he began, but Penny stepped into the corridor to assure the waiting group that her newest patients would recover completely from their adventure. Edouard had three broken ribs not to mention that his left wrist was also broken, but a dose of Skele-Gro and a night of Dreamless Sleep should see him released the following morning.

Relief washed over the group, and Alex Rosier said, "That was a nice bit of spell-work, Miss Granger. I've never seen a jinx transferred in such a way before."

"Bill Weasley taught me."

"Mr. Weasley is a most respected curse-breaker," Ayman said, and somehow Hermione realized he was complimenting her as well, in a rather oblique and chauvinistic manner.

"Yes," she said quietly. "He is. I've been fortunate to have him as a mentor." Lucius cleared his throat, a reminder of her earlier comment offering further explanations. "If you'll excuse me?" she said to Ayman.

"Of course."

Hermione followed Lucius through the hypostyle, glancing briefly into the far corner where the newly jinxed sandstone was situated, and into the forecourt. They stood before the scintillating barricade for a moment, unable to see the ghostly creature on the other side, but they knew the ghost sphinx lurked there. Waiting for its next victim.

It was Hermione's job to see that there were no more victims. And it had become personal.

It was personal for Lucius as well. "Why are you waiting for Mr. Potter?"

Hermione waved her hand toward the magical barrier. "Not here, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," he replied.

"One moment," she said, glancing the direction they had come and then at the barrier, pursing her lips thoughtfully. She pointed her wand at the barrier, surprised to see that Lucius had apparently considered the same possibility. Simultaneously, they cast an additional layer of shielding, in case the upheaval from the Quicksand Jinx had any repercussions on the existing barrier.

Then they crossed the vast room to the staircase. "We could have lunch." he suggested.

"Only if you're hungry. I don't think I could eat. We could go to my tent."

"An offer to good to refuse," he replied, one eyebrow arched.

"Prat," she said, and he laughed. Then she answered his question as they exited the magical illusion concealing the collegium from Muggle eyes. "Actually, I hope Harry's returned by now. Ginny knows it's urgent, and to some extent that it involves her brother. She'll make sure Harry responds as soon as he arrives home. But I don't know that I want to wait. I think I'll Floo Minerva."

Lucius practically recoiled. "Minerva McGonagall?"

"Yes."

"I fail to see what a ghost sphinx has to do with the Headmistress of Hogwarts. I understand she no longer teaches."

"You're quite right. She doesn't teach..." Hermione suddenly stumbled on the mud and would've fallen had Lucius not caught her elbow, "...any more."

"All right there?"

"Yes," she replied absently, but she turned toward him and her eyes glittered with excitement. "I think I've solved it."

"Just then?"

"As incredible as it might seem, yes. And I have you to thank for it. That's twice now you've been a catalyst." She smiled broadly, turned, quickened her pace, and practically jogged to the tent, despite the dry, parching heat. "Come on, Lucius, catch up!"

Lucius, never one to look less than his best – despite a bad two years which he was determined to forget – sauntered after her. By the time he entered the tent, Hermione was rifling through the parchment on the dining table. Where were those notes of Bill's, she wondered. Or her scribbles from breakfast.

"Miss Granger?" Lucius asked. She barely heard him so intent was she on locating the misplaced notes. "Miss Granger," he asked again, louder. When he called, "Hermione!" however, she noticed.

"What?" she asked.

"What is it? What is the clue?"

"Have you ever heard of a ghost sphinx before?" she asked.

"That's it? That's the clue?"

"Answer the question, please."

He rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Of course I haven't heard of a ghost sphinx. We had this very conversation your first day here. You cannot have forgotten."

"I didn't forget. Aha!" She pulled out the missing parchment, covered with Cormac's rambling commentary, and Bill's initial marginalia: Sphinx ghost? Ghost? "Bill had never heard of a ghost sphinx either."

"I fail to see how that relates to our present circumstances." Lucius stood in the middle of the room, eyeing the accumulated notes compiled by her predecessors, starting with Draco's own journal entries of the day he had been cursed and his initial forays into self-healing. There were other reference materials Hermione had consulted, and in addition to Draco's resources, there were at least a dozen books neither Malfoy had ever seen with scraps of parchment sticking out as bookmarks. Hermione paid no attention to Lucius as she quickly read the page on which Bill had written, but looked up when he said, "You insisted it was a sphinx because of the riddle. Rather you insisted that if it was a sphinx there would be a riddle. You were correct; there was a riddle. Ergo...."

"I think ... I've got a theory I want to test. Have you read any of this?" Hermione waved her hand at the table.

Lucius' expression was pained. "No. Draco worked on it while I met with Gringotts' representatives, hired Mr. McLaggen, and located Ayman Mubarak and his team. Afterwards..."

She spoke very softly. "It was too painful?"

"Yes." He hissed the affirmative.

"And you had Severus."

"Severus is..."

"Remarkable. But his attentions were divided. He was driven to keep Draco and Cormac, and more recently, Bill, from losing ground to the Withering Curse." She held up a hand when it appeared Lucius would vociferously defend Severus. "I am not demeaning Severus in any way. He's utterly brilliant. But he's not here, and I can't properly discuss my theory with you until you've caught up."

"You want me to read all this? Great Hypatia, we'll be here a month!" His expression was incredulous, and anger flushed his cheeks. "Are you dissembling?"

Hermione laughed. "It's not that much material. Besides, I've prepared an abstract." She plucked her précis from the top of the nearest pile of parchment. "Here. It's only a few pages." When he accepted it, she said, "I'm going to see if Harry's returned yet, and then if not, I'm going to Floo Minerva to confirm my theory."

He raised a brow. "Are you so confident?"

"In my supposition? Reasonably. I'd like to erase any doubts, which is why I'd like your opinion." She pointed to the parchment he held. "Read it please while I make my calls."

He inclined his head in a patrician acceptance. On anyone else it would've appeared patronizing; on Lucius, the gesture was second nature. He crossed to one of the side chairs. She found it amusing that he eschewed the florid cabbage roses and chose the leather chair he had used before. "Have you any tea?" he asked.

Hermione looked at the table, at the plate of leftover pickles, and then at the dishes in the kitchen sink waiting to be done. "Er, I could make some, I suppose."

Lucius smirked. "It's fine. Would you care for tea?"

"Er..."

"Not the local version, but real English tea."

"Nimue, yes!" she exclaimed, and then stammered, "It's not that I don't like the local tea. It's nice for a change, but..."

"Nothing is as good as a properly infused Darjeeling with a splash of milk."

"Yes, exactly." Hermione crossed to the pot-bellied stove in the kitchen. "Although I also like Earl Grey."

Lucius curled his lip.

"It's was my mum's favorite," Hermione said as she knelt next to the stove, "and it reminds me of her."

Lucius' sneer dropped as if it had been hexed from his face. "Narcissa liked it as well," he admitted. "I've never understood the preference. Perhaps it's a gender bias."

Hermione laughed. "Perhaps it is." She scooped a handful of Floo powder from the ceramic jar kept on the small shelf next to the stovepipe.

"Chaucer!" Lucius called, summoning a wizened house-elf who appeared in the middle of the living area.

"Master Malfoy?" the elf asked as he took in his surroundings with a wounded dignity that suggested he'd just been asked to step into a festering puddle of primordial ooze. Hermione wondered why she hadn't seen him at the dinner party, but then remembered how shy house-elves could be.

"Tea for two," declared the lord of the manor. "The lady will have Earl Grey, and I will have the usual."

"Would Master Malfoy like biscuits?"

Hermione's head popped up, and Lucius chuckled. "I believe biscuits would be most welcome. An excellent suggestion."

Chaucer bowed deeply and with a resounding POP promptly disappeared.

Hermione opened the stove, stirred up the coals and threw in a handful of Floo powder. "Harry Potter, Ministry of Magic," she called out before sticking her head into the oven amidst the blazing green flames. "Harry? Harry, are you back?"

Harry's office was dark, and the desk entirely too neat for him to be in residence. Hermione's hopes deflated like a reversed Cheering Charm, and she moved on to the second bullet point on her mental agenda, shunting Harry down the list of priorities.

She took a breath, coughed soot, and then, once her throat was clear, said, "Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress' office, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

The green flames whirled, cinders and soot flew in a twist of wind, and her hair streamed across her face. By the time Hermione contained her hair, she was looking into an office she hadn't seen in several years. It had changed significantly since Albus Dumbledore used it, or even that horrible year Severus had held the position. Looking at the changes elicited a smile from Hermione; the office now bore the unmistakable stamp of tartan, and a familiar tin of Minerva's favorite Ginger Newt biscuits sat on the corner of the impressive desk.

The witch seated behind the desk was Hermione's earliest magical role model. At first, Minerva McGonagall looked the same upright figure from Hermione's childhood. Her hair was wrapped in the same tight bun as always, but there was grey in it now, and there were deeper lines on the older witch's face. The signs of aging tore at Hermione's heart in bittersweet counterpoint to her happiness at seeing her former head of house.

"Minerva?" She spoke quietly so as not to disturb the woman reading so diligently.

Minerva jerked, and swung her head in the direction of the fireplace. "Miss Granger? Hermione?"

"Yes. Have you a minute?"

"For you, always." She placed her quill in the crystal dish that had long been hers. "It's been quite some time since I've seen you."

"I know. I always seem to be busy these days. I'll try to come and see you during the holidays."

"You would be most welcome." Minerva's expression changed. "Is something amiss?"

"You always did have a nose for trouble, Minerva. I have a small favor to ask. I need to speak to one of the ghosts."

Minerva was astonished. "The ghosts? Whatever for?"

"It's related to my current assignment. I've run across an ... er ... anomaly, and it would help if I could speak to one of the ghosts."

"I could get Professor Binns..."

"No! Please, not him."

Minerva laughed. "All right. Poor Cuthbert does tend to rattle on."

"If it isn't too much trouble – the Bloody Baron, please?"

Minerva's eyebrows rose. "Not Sir Nicholas?"

"I don't really have a lot of time..."

"And Sir Nicholas is almost as long-winded as Cuthbert. He is, however, far more entertaining." Minerva turned her head toward the array of portraits lining the circular room and raised her voice. "Ah, there you are Dexter. Would you be so kind as to find the Baron and ask him to come to my office?"

Hermione couldn't hear the response, but when Minerva said, "Thank you," she smiled. She appreciated the help and said so.

Minerva leaned back and removed the glasses from her nose. She set them on top of the desk and reached for the biscuit tin. It seemed Hermione wasn't the only one in need of some sugar. "I take it that you aren't in London where your regular sources are available to you?"

Hermione nodded, green tinged soot falling from her hair into the Hogwarts fireplace. "I'm in Egypt actually, and there's been an unexpected pitfall."

"Pitfalls generally are unexpected." Minerva snorted. "I'm certain you'll sort it out quickly."

"With a little luck."

"And skill, Hermione. Never underestimate your skill. You were a most diligent student." Hermione flushed with the praise. Minerva wasn't generally effusive, so her compliment was all the more welcome. "Tell me," the headmistress asked, "are you still enjoying your profession?"

Hermione answered in the affirmative and they passed the next few minutes in idle chitchat. Hermione shifted her position from kneeling to sitting cross-legged, and fumbled for more Floo powder to refresh the connection.

"Ah," Minerva said, breaking off a description of her latest holiday to the island of Corfu. "Here's the Baron now. I'll leave you in peace."

"Thank you again, Minerva."

"You're quite welcome. Come and see me when you get back."

"I will."

Hermione heard the heavy oak door swing shut behind Minerva just before the Bloody Baron floated into her field of vision. He was as imposing and remote as ever. In the brightly lit room, Hermione had to concentrate to see him rather than the vivid image of large mahogany desk she could see through his transparent form, although his copious bloodstains glimmered like hammered silver on his medieval robes. "Thank you for agreeing to speak to me, Baron."

The ghost bowed his silvery, transparent head. "The headmistress asked me to assist you in your inquiries."

"I won't take much of your time."

"Then get on with it, girl." he said, and she almost laughed because he reminded her of a sulky Severus.

"All right. Sorry. I...er -- is it true only humans can become ghosts? I ask because I've come across a ghost sphinx..."

"Impossible."

"No, really, it's a sphinx. I've seen it."

"It is not possible, girl. You are wasting my time." He rose as if preparing to fly through the wall, but Hermione forestalled him. "No!" she cried. "Wait. Please. I have another question."

She had to crane her head to see him, floating unsupported in mid-air. It had unnerved Hermione when she was a first year, but after the war and working at Gringotts, she was no longer awed by commonplace apparitions. "My other question, then, if you don't mind, is if a ghost curses a live-one –"

"Is this a jest?"

"Of course it isn't!"

"Ghosts are prohibited from cursing live-ones."

"Prohibited? Like an Unforgivable."

The Baron bent forward in a half-bow of confirmation. "Verily. It undermines the peacefulness of our existence."

Hermione had never before considered a ghostly existence peaceful, but she could see his point. A society without some form of policing was chaos. "What happens, Baron, if a ghost curses a live-one?"

He roared a protest, rising toward the ceiling. "Ghosts do not break the covenant."

"But if they did?" She persisted.

"Then the ghost council addresses the matter."

"There's a ghost council? How does that work?"

"It does not the concern live-ones." Apparently, the Baron considered the audience at an end. He sailed up and through the ceiling, leaving Hermione's head the only animated thing in the headmistress' office. She sighed deeply before severing the Floo connection.

"Did you get the answers you were looking for?" Lucius asked from his chair.

"Yes and no." Hermione rose to her feet and dusted herself off, wrinkling her nose at the smell of singed hair. She walked toward the sofa, but settled instead for the floral armchair facing him.

"Well?" he asked.

Kicking off her shoes, Hermione tucked her feet beneath her as she got comfortable in the chair. "Did you finish reading the précis?"

He pinched his mouth. "It's rude to answer a question with a question."

She huffed. "Honestly, Mr. Malfoy..."

"What happened to calling me Lucius? I distinctly remember your screeching my name at the top of your lungs not an hour ago."

"That was an emergency!"

"And what about after ... when we were outside? Was that an emergency, too?"

She glared at him. "That was a slip of the tongue. Now answer the question. Have you finished reading?"

He smirked, clearly pleased to have nettled her. "Yes, I have read the précis. It was as concise and complete as I had been led to expect from you, and please call me Lucius on occasions other than dire emergencies or inadvertent slips of the tongue."

"Thank you, Lucius." She teased, but then more seriously said, "I'm fairly certain I now know what we're dealing with and we may have to wait for Harry." Seeing Lucius' impatience she answered his unarticulated question. "The Bloody Baron affirmed that only humans can become ghosts, therefor..."

"Our sphinx is not a sphinx."

"Exactly." She muttered, "I knew it was a basilisk," for Severus' benefit, even if he wasn't there to hear it.

"Pardon?" Lucius asked, but didn't pursue it when she shook her head. "If it is not a sphinx – and what about the riddle -- is it an illusion? A curse-trap? Something similar to the Quicksand Jinx?"

Hermione smirked. "I'm willing to bet that I know the answer."

He frowned and leaned forward, his voice arctic. "Are you prepared to gamble with my son's life? With Severus'?"

"Not even Cormac's," she declared, "which is why I've been waiting for Harry."

"I have some passing knowledge of the Dark Arts," he said stiffly. "Why can you not ask me?"

"This isn't a Dark Art really."

"What else do you call a not-sphinx that curses people? Is the bloody thing even a ghost? Maybe it is a construct."

"That's what Cormac thought," Penny commented as she entered the tent, pushing her hair off her brow. She was more disheveled than Hermione had ever seen her.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked, slightly alarmed.

"Yes, thanks." Penny crossed the room, sinking onto the sofa. "I helped Ayman clean out another of the small rooms; it never occurred to me we would need more than one room for patients." She sighed. "I've just finished working on Edouard and Ali – that's the name of the other man caught in the trap. I'll apply Bruise Healing Paste to both in the morning, and then they can be released."

Lucius said, "I'm sure they're grateful, Penelope."

Penny smiled at him, but spoke to her newest tent-mate. "I don't know how you do this for a living, Hermione. Really, I don't."

"It's rarely like this. In fact, this is unique as far as my experience is concerned."

"What comes next?" Penny asked.

"I'm still waiting on Harry." Hermione stared at the unassuming black stove as if her glare could conjure her friend. "After that, I think I'll have a little chat with our NotSphinx."

"You don't even know what it is yet," Lucius said heatedly.

"Oh, I'm fairly certain I know what it is, I just need to know what steps to take after."

"After what?" Penny asked curiously.

"After I get the rest of the cure for the Withering Curse."

Penny sat straight. "You're that close to sorting this out? We've been here for months."

Seeing Lucius' irritated expression, Hermione chose a diplomatic answer. "Without the tremendous amount of research Draco and Cormac have done, and even what Bill added, I couldn't have found the solution this quickly."

Lucius said, "Don't forget Severus."

"I never forget Severus," she shot back.

Penny simply smirked, and then looked rather wistfully at the teapot and two cups. Lucius, having been trained from infancy as a host, called out, "Chaucer!"

POP. "Master Malfoy?"

"Tea for Miss Clearwater, and I think a spot of lunch." He glanced at his companions, before saying, "Nothing local, I beg you."

Chaucer's crooked smile altered his green-tinted face into something rather gamine. Hermione thought she could become quite fond of the little fellow.

If someone had asked Hermione what she ate for lunch that last, seemingly endless day while waiting for Harry to contact her, she couldn't have given them an answer. It was quintessentially English, and thereafter, whenever she ate Bakewell Tart, she thought fondly of Chaucer, Lucius and her time in Egypt.

~o0o~

End-Notes/Riddle Solutions:

(1) Another of Tolkien's offerings. The answer is 'darkness.'

(2) This is one more by Gal'desh. The answer is 'war.'