"We have reviewed your preliminary application."
Director Hassan interlocked his fingers and rested them on his slightly rounded belly, leaning back in his chair with the ease of a man who had never once doubted himself.
"We appreciate Hogwarts's willingness to engage in academic cooperation with us regarding the protection of ancient ruins."
His wording was official and perfectly hollow, every phrase plucked straight from the Ministry of Magic Diplomatic Standard Handbook.
"However."
His tone shifted. He leaned forward slightly, and the eyes that had been sitting in shadow finally came into view.
"The tomb of Ankh-Ka is Egypt's precious heritage. A treasure gifted to us by the Nile."
"Any form of cooperation must be conducted under the leadership of the Egyptian Ministry of Magic."
Director Imane took over. Her voice was more direct than Hassan's, dry as desert sand.
"According to our regulations, any archaeological project involving foreign institutions requires payment of a site maintenance and security fee, to ensure our cultural treasures suffer no potential damage."
She paused, letting her gaze sweep over the two of them from above her gold-rimmed glasses, then calmly stated a figure.
"Considering the special nature of the Ankh-Ka tomb and its potentially immense historical value, this fee is tentatively set at fifty thousand Galleons per year."
That wasn't a negotiation. It was a notification.
When she finished, she lifted her teacup and blew gently on the steam, as if she'd just remarked on the weather.
Bill's eyebrow twitched, almost imperceptibly.
The smile on Douglas's face didn't move a millimeter.
"Of course, of course."
He nodded repeatedly, the picture of an unworldly scholar rattled by a number too large to comprehend. "Protecting great heritage is the top priority. Every wizard agrees on that."
"It's just..."
He looked troubled, his voice carrying a carefully measured note of confusion.
"Our preliminary survey of that tomb turned up some... disturbing findings."
The smile at the corner of Director Hassan's mouth deepened. He read Douglas's hesitation as exactly what he'd expected: the opening move in a haggle.
"Professor, rest assured." He waved a hand, settling even further back into his chair. "All ancient tombs carry risks. We have the world's most professional team to handle these minor complications."
"No." Douglas's expression turned serious. He leaned forward and dropped his voice, gaze moving between the two of them like a man about to share something that could drag a person into a nightmare. "Not ordinary risks."
"The curses there are alive."
"They are not fixed magical traps. They are a kind of... thinking malice."
"They cling to the walls. They live in the air. They can corrupt the very souls of those who enter."
Director Imane's brow creased.
She had heard the unofficial histories. The legends. But official records had never confirmed any of it.
"Mr. Weasley," Douglas said, turning to Bill with a grave expression, "to avoid any misunderstanding, perhaps you should show our hosts the official Gringotts assessment report."
Bill opened his briefcase.
What he withdrew was not a scroll of parchment. It was a folder edged in black iron, its cover stamped with Gringotts's intricate crest.
The moment it landed on the table, something cold moved through the room. The smell of metal and binding contracts.
For the first time, the smile on Hassan's face went stiff.
Bill opened the report.
The text inside was written in the precise, emotionless business style unique to goblins. No softening. No ambiguity. Just facts, stripped clean.
He cleared his throat and began to read at a measured pace, making sure every word landed.
"Project Number: DE-734. Exploration of Abnormal Magical Energy Source in the Dahshur Dunes."
"Assessment Result: This location is an ancient high-risk curse testing ground. It is not a tomb in the traditional sense."
Bill paused and glanced up.
Imane's frown had deepened into something harder.
"Internal Structure: Seven independent, emotion-resonance-based linked soul traps. The core area is covered by an irreversible curse of the Language of Oblivion."
"Economic Value Assessment..."
Bill let the silence stretch.
Then he said the word that froze the air in the room.
"Zero."
The hand holding Imane's teacup jerked. Scalding liquid splashed across her knuckles. She didn't notice.
Bill read on, his voice flat and merciless.
"Potential Risk: Extremely High. Any large-scale excavation carries a probability exceeding ninety-seven percent of causing the curses to fail catastrophically, resulting in a regional, or potentially cross-regional, soul pollution event."
"Estimated Maintenance Cost: Extremely High. Continuous investment of large quantities of rare magical materials is required for suppression. Annual cost: not less than seventy thousand Galleons."
"Final Conclusion: Recommend permanent sealing. Designate as highest-danger-level restricted zone. Commercial development is not feasible and is strongly advised against."
At the bottom of the report: the icy signature of the Gringotts Cairo branch manager, alongside a magical seal that left no room for argument.
The room went dead quiet.
Only the fire crackled, indifferent to everything.
The smile on Director Hassan's face had vanished completely. He stared at the report as if it weren't paper, but a snake coiled on his desk.
Fifty thousand Galleons in maintenance fees?
The report said seventy thousand wouldn't even cover it.
Director Imane's face had gone pale. She adjusted her glasses, her eyes full of shock and something close to desperation.
"This... this is impossible!" she blurted. "Did the Gringotts goblins make a mistake?"
"Goblins never misjudge gold." Bill's voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of a vault door. "And they never misjudge risk."
"In fact."
He closed the folder with a soft, final sound.
"My supervisor was furious after reviewing this report. He felt we had wasted Gringotts's manpower and resources assessing a liability. He has formally withdrawn all Gringotts interest in this location."
Douglas sighed, the portrait of a man trying very hard to mask his disappointment.
"It seems we were mistaken."
"We thought we'd found an ancient magical site of genuine research value. We wanted to contribute something to the academic exchange between Hogwarts and Egypt."
He shook his head slowly. "Who could have known it was such a spectacular disaster."
He reached out toward the folder, as though preparing to collect it.
"In that case, we won't take any more of your time. This location is best left to your professionals. Hogwarts cannot afford this kind of risk."
He arranged his posture into something that looked very much like goodbye.
Hassan and Imane looked at each other.
What they found in each other's eyes was identical: panic.
A bottomless pit devouring seventy thousand Galleons every year. A cluster of curses that could go critical at any moment. The Egyptian Ministry of Magic had no such budget. And if word got out that they'd tried to extract an extortionate fee from Hogwarts over what amounted to a cursed liability, they'd be the laughingstock of the entire international magical community.
"Wait!"
Hassan lurched forward in his chair, his voice carrying an edge of urgency he hadn't intended to show.
"Professor, please. Stay."
The muscles in his face rearranged themselves into something meant to be a smile. It wasn't quite.
"Academic cooperation, we welcome it. Absolutely welcome it!"
"The fee was merely a preliminary suggestion. Everything is negotiable. Very negotiable..."
Douglas paused. A troubled look crossed his face.
"But such a dangerous location... Hogwarts's board of governors would never approve that level of research funding. I'm not sure we could justify the expense."
The room hit a wall.
Fine beads of sweat had broken out across Hassan's forehead.
Then Douglas snapped his fingers lightly, as if a thought had just surfaced.
"Oh, right." His tone was offhand, almost throwaway. "When Mr. Weasley was surveying the surrounding environment of the curse field to assess how far the risk might spread, he seems to have found something else."
He glanced at Bill.
Bill reached into the briefcase and produced a second sheet of parchment, setting it on the table.
It was nothing like the Gringotts report. Just a few hastily hand-drawn maps and columns of geological analysis data.
"Approximately three kilometers east of the main chamber, underground," Bill said, pointing to a mark on the map, "we detected several small, independent magical energy fields."
"Based on their structure and estimated age, they appear to be Fourth Dynasty burial sites. Tombs belonging to pharaoh's close ministers, or prosperous merchants of the era."
"They're modest in scale and likely lack any complex curse work. Burial resources at that time weren't spent on non-royal members of society."
He left it there.
But the implication hung in the air like a held breath.
Small. No curses.
Which meant they very likely contained intact burial goods. Preserved for centuries.
Gold. Gemstones. Magical artifacts.
A windfall that could fill the Egyptian Ministry of Magic's treasury for years.
Director Imane's breathing changed.
She stared at the map as if her eyes had been nailed to it.
Director Hassan had gone very still. His throat moved as he swallowed.
Douglas gave a polite cough to reclaim their attention.
"Of course, these are entirely unverified leads."
"Hogwarts is a purely academic institution. We have no interest in..." He paused delicately. "Worldly riches."
He delivered this with the expression of a man of unimpeachable virtue, a monk who had turned his back on all earthly temptation.
"Our passion lies solely with the unique soul magic of Ankh-Ka. A lofty and singular academic pursuit."
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