Summer in the Sahara

Authors' note:

The Essence of Deep Magic

To our beloved readers. This note is more an explanation of something that seems to have vexed some of you. Please allow us to lift the veil of confusion from your minds.

Many of you have wondered why “Harry Potter and the Prophecy of the Phoenix” (by Jon Clift) is described as “Part One of the Deeper Magic Series”, when it takes place at the same time as “Summer In Cornwall”(by The Heir Of Paravel) which is “Part Two.”

To best explain this we need to tell you that “Cornwall” and “The Prophecy,” do in fact take part in the same timeframe - but NOT the same reality. Think of it as this:

“The Prophecy” is one river, “Cornwall” is another. They begin in different areas of a country, but they eventually wind their way towards the sea, gradually growing closer and closer until the two rivers merge. Where they merge is “Summer in the Sahara”.

Furthermore, this Great River has not yet reached the sea. Thus, when it does, you shall find “Harry Potter and the Tablet of Destiny.”

Think of the Deeper Magic Series as a Trilogy in 4 parts (for the moment).

Therefore it would be impossible for us to reveal anything about the Prophecy because it would detract from your (the readers') enjoyment and would also give away far too much information about “Sahara” and “Tablet.”

We sincerely hope that we have answered you all to your satisfaction, but, in-case we have not, please feel free to rate & review, and e-mail us any further queries you might have.

Yours in Fellowship,

Jon Clift

Author of “Harry Potter and the Prophecy of the Phoenix”

Co-Author (with The Heir Of Paravel) of Summer in the Sahara

And

The Heir Of Paravel

Author of “Summer In Cornwall”

Co-Author (with Jon Clift) of Summer in the Sahara

Standard Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to: Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Raincoast Books, and Warner Brothers, Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The only things owned by the authors, Leslie Parsons and Jonathan Clift, are the plot and character's not previously mentioned in the official Harry Potter books. If you wish to use plot devices or borrow characters, please ask for permission: the worst we can do is say “no”.

Chapter Four - East and West

Almost simultaneously, two parties of wizards were transported from their homeland in England to the burning sands of the great Sahara desert. One party arrived at the extreme western side of the Sahara - in Morocco with its crowded streets and sordid past. The other party found themselves at the extreme eastern side of the Sahara - in ancient Cairo with its kings and temples.

Somewhere in between - in the dungeon of a dark wizard, was Bill Weasley. He sat, chained to the wall, manacles at his feet and ankles. His head hung limply on his chest, his red hair dirty and dishevelled. On his face and hands were the bruises and gashes he'd gotten the night the Fire Eaters appeared in Cairo - looking for him.

Bill had put up a terrific fight, but in the end, he'd been overpowered. Now, more than ten days later, deprived of adequate water and food, he was too weak even to apparate. Each day, The Dark One brought Bill before him. Each day, the Dark One sought by one means or another to force the red-headed wizard to do his bidding, and each day he stubbornly refused.

Danté had raged and screamed, had cursed him and beaten him - but to no avail. Bill infinitely preferred torture to the idea that he might somehow enable a truly deranged wizard to gain a stronger foothold in the magical world.

But Bill was getting weaker and the torture more excruciating. From his corner of the dimly lit dungeon, Bill breathed in the foul smelling air, then exhaled with a trembling breath, `They'd better find me soon
”

*****

Remus Lupin felt his feet hit something firm and heard the crunch of gravel. The rushing wind ceased and he opened his eyes. He, Leslie and Jon were in the front courtyard of the Ministry of Magic Embassy in Morocco. The Embassy lay on one of Morocco's main thoroughfares (such as it was). High walls (undoubtedly enchanted) separated the courtyard from the noise and confusion of the street beyond, and although Remus could see the hustle and bustle going on outside through ornamental “peeps” in the walls - he could not hear it.

Inside the walls, the courtyard was a kind of paradise - a tiered fountain, laid with intricate tile work splashed in the centre. Monkeys chattered among large palms and brightly coloured birds darted among lush plantings and exotic flowers. And the smell
it was hard to describe. Emanating from the very air around them was a sort of perfume - dusky and spicy, like curry and cinnamon, but sweet at the same time, reminiscent of dates or fruit.

Leslie inhaled deeply, and then looked around, charmed by the otherworldliness of it all. At the sound of flying feet, she turned to see an attractive woman, skimming down a flight of stone steps toward them.

“Jules!” Jon cried, stepping forward to meet his sister, the Ministry Ambassador to Morocco. Julia Clift, in striking contrast to Jon's height, was petite. Her eyes were warm and full of laughter, her smile genuine and all-embracing. She wore flowing robes in an ancient pattern that set off her curved figure nicely. At her throat and wrists were ropes of precious stones - woven into a fine mesh of gold by native craftsmen.

Leslie caught her breath. Jules Clift was not in the least like any stuffy ambassador she had ever heard of before. She was like one of the exotic flowers growing in the courtyard - looking more like a high priestess than someone who had regular staff meetings on Monday mornings.

Jon folded Jules into a great hug, picking her up off of her feet. When at last he set her down, Jules turned to Remus Lupin.

“So glad to see you again, Remus, how long has it been?” she asked.

Remus looked thoughtful for a moment. “Three years, I think,” he said slowly, “And you haven't changed a bit. In fact if anything you're looking even more lovely,” he said with a smile. “Clearly, the foreign service suites you.”

Jules threw back her head and laughed, a sweet rippling sort of laugh and said, “You flatter me, Remus.” Eyeing him closely she said, “You have changed in three years. I never realized the toll the Werewolf's curse was taking on you - until now. It's like I'm looking at another man altogether. If I didn't know better, I'd swear that you weren't Remus Lupin, but his younger brother.”

Now it was Remus's turn to laugh. “You never change do you?” he said, giving her a great hug.

Jules now turned her attention to Leslie. Taking both of Leslie's hands in her own she said, “Welcome to Morocco. You've no idea how glad I am to finally meet you after hearing so much about you these last few years from Jon.”

Leslie was a trifle flustered and simultaneously delighted. `Years?' she thought to herself. `He's been writing to Jules about us for the last few years?'

“Oh
I
” Leslie stammered uncharacteristically before regaining her senses and her manners, “Thank you, Jules. It's a real pleasure to meet you and to be here finally, although, I wish the circumstances were happier ones.”

“True enough,” said Jules, “And speaking of those circumstances, there are parties inside most anxious to meet with you. But let's get you settled into your rooms first.” And, looping her arm companionably through Leslie's, Jules led them through a side door in the courtyard to a long, low wing of the Embassy.

They passed through double mahogany doors into a circular room with a domed ceiling. Here, too, there was elaborate tile work in lapis lazuli, deep garnet, and amber. The room was set about with comfortable looking chairs and sofas, and the odd writing desk. Potted palms were placed strategically throughout, and sunlight filtered in through skylights in the dome and small windows near the ceiling. It was cool, pleasant, and utterly tranquil.

“This wing is part of the Embassy's private residential quarters.” Jules said. “That passage leads to the Embassy's receiving areas for the public, and that passage,” she said, turning around, “leads to the guest rooms. And now, if you'll follow me
” Jules smiled and strode briskly down a carpeted corridor offset by a series of louver doors. Stopping outside a door approximately half way down the hall, she said to Remus. “For you, kind sir
” and opened the door.

He stepped inside gratefully and flung his bag on the bed. “Meet you back in the lounge in
half an hour?” he said.

“Perfect,” said Jules, who conducted Leslie and Jon to rooms slightly further down and across the hall. Leslie was delighted with her room. It was spacious and airy. Filtered light from high opaque windows fell softly on a double-bed that had been draped in mosquito netting. Teak chairs and a rattan writing desk were in one corner, with a lacquered oriental bureau in the other.

A few thick rugs were laid across a highly polished wood floor. Orchids had been arranged artistically in vases that dotted the room. A ceiling fan turned slowly overhead.

“Thank you, Jules,” Leslie breathed, carefully setting her bags in a nearby chair. “Not at all,” Jules said breezily, throwing open the door to the adjoining bathroom. Stacks of thick white towels sat on shelves near an overlarge clawfooted bathtub with brass fixtures. A glass-doored curio held a variety of shampoos and soaps. Two pedestal sinks stood impressively on the opposite wall, each with their own mirrors.

Leslie was still taking it all it, when a door on the opposite side of the bath opened. Jon's dark head appeared around the corner. “Sharing are we?” he asked with a grin.

Before Leslie could answer, Jules said, “You don't mind do you dear? Normally, you could have the whole bath to yourself, but at the moment, we're playing host to the French Ambassador and his entire attaché corps. It's left us a bit full.”

“No
not a problem
” Leslie said, slowly. “Soon enough, we'll all be in tents anyway, even shared, this bathroom is a luxury.”

Jules seemed pleased with her answer. “Well then, freshen up a bit, and meet me back in the lounge in half an hour, alright?” As she left, she inclined her head in Jon's direction and said, “Behave”. She gave him a sisterly wink, and floated out, her robes billowing behind her.

In Cairo


They landed in a tangle of arms and legs on a dirt street. It was a full minute before Arthur realised Ginny was there. He stared at her open-mouthed. Bright red patches appeared on his cheeks. Harry saw him inhale sharply. Arthur Weasley was about to explode - and Arthur Weasley rarely exploded (if ever).

“Ginny!” he said sharply as she scrambled to her feet, “what on earth do you think you're doing here?”

Ginny's shoulders were high and squared, her chin thrust forward slightly. “The same as the rest of you
I'm here to find Bill.”

Arthur rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Ginny, these wizards, or whoever it is that has Bill
they have powers beyond what you're equipped to deal with. They
”

But Ginny cut him off, “Beyond what I could deal with alone, maybe. Perhaps beyond what any of you could deal with alone. You need my help - you need me.” She said, her voice growing increasingly loud.

Arthur was on the verge of responding when a figure in native robes swept toward them. Walking directly toward Arthur, a dark skinned, dark eyed man raised a finger to his lips and hissed urgently, “Shhhhh.”

“I am Samir”, he said, speaking quietly, “I work for your Ministry. Follow me please.” Without another word, the man turned and moved purposefully away down the street. Arthur, Sirius, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Fred, George and Ginny seized their bags and followed.

He led them to the bazaar, past the vendors and merchants, through “old” Cairo and onto a narrow street with washing stretched across it every few yards. He paused outside a tumbledown building and rapped sharply at the door. It was opened at once by a figure entirely covered in robes and veils - presumably a woman.

As Samir beckoned them inside, Harry instinctively reached for his wand. This “Samir” had shown no credentials
for all anyone knew, he could be The Dark One himself.

Sirius was evidently thinking along the same lines. Harry noticed that he had taken his wand out and was directing it at Samir.

Arthur addressed their dark-skinned host, “I say,” he said in an odd voice that sounded like he was reading from a script. “It's terribly hot here.” There was a long pause.

Samir replied, “Yes, but not as hot as it's been in Kensington Gardens.”

As strange as this conversation seemed to Harry, it was perfectly understandable to Hermione. It was Ministry code. But was it the right code?

Evidently, it was, for a smile of relief broke over Arthur's face and he shook Samir's hand warmly. “Thank you for meeting us. We're so grateful for any assistance you can give us.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed that Sirius lowered his wand, but didn't put it away.

Samir bowed slightly to Arthur, saying, “You travel with quite a large group, sir. I did not expect so
.many.” He finished a trifle awkwardly.

“Yes, well, not all of us are staying on
” said Arthur, eyeing Ginny. “Allow me to introduce you, Samir.” Arthur said, turning to the group behind him. “These are our friends, Sirius Black, Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger.”

“An honour to meet you,” Samir said, “your reputations precede you.” He bowed again.

“And these are my children, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny,” Arthur continued.

Samir's eyes travelled over the four of them, “You have been blessed many times, then Mr. Weasley, to have so many children.”

“Thank you.” Arthur said shortly, ready to turn the conversation from those children present, to the son made noticeably by his absence. “Have you any news of Bill?”

Before answering, Samir led them to the center of the room. Cushions and pillows covered faded Persian rugs. “Please, sit,” Samir said, kneeling on the floor.

They formed an irregular circle around him. “It is as we feared, Mr. Weasley. Your son was taken from his rooms in Cairo by Fire Eaters - the servants of the Dark One. We have eyewitness accounts.”

Ginny made a small gasping noise. Ron shifted his feet uncomfortably and looked at the floor. “Samir, we know that Bill isn't the first wizard to have been taken
do you know for what purpose people are being abducted?”

“I have no proof, sir, only suspicions.” Samir said flatly.

“And what are your suspicions?” Sirius asked.

Samir looked thoughtful, as if choosing his words carefully. “The Dark One is not a true Egyptian, nor is he a true Arab. He appears to be seeking legitimacy and power. With his Fire Eaters, he has been, for years, quietly seeking out those people and objects that could enrich his abilities. He has raided tombs, ransacked temples, and laid waste to villages. When his own powers have been inadequate, he usurps the power of another. Or, in this case, several others.”

“You're saying he takes wizards because he needs their help?” Ron asked.

Samir turned his dark eyes on Ron. “In a manner of speaking, yes. Whispered voices from the desert tell us that he is now seeking his greatest prize to date. But he'll never claim it without a wizard like your brother to break the enchantments surrounding it.”

“What prize, Samir? What does he seek?' Arthur asked, urgently.

“The Cadeau Du Soleil.”

“Ah's”, gasps, and murmurs swept through the group.

“The what?” Arthur asked. For Arthur, like most wizards, had never realized that the Cadeau Du Mer had companion pieces, much less that they were hidden somewhere in the Sahara desert. Harry, Hermione, and Sirius, knew, having learned of its existence from Leslie only recently, but they kept cautiously silent - curious to see what Samir might say about this powerful set of objects.

“You do not know of them?” Samir replied, “I shouldn't wonder, for many believe that they exist only in myth or legend, if at all.”

“But what are they?” asked Ron, who, alone among the Weasley's, could guess at the nature of the Cadeau Du Soleil, because of his two best friends, sitting just behind him, were wearing the Cadeau Du Mer.

“The Cadeau Du Soleil are part of the legend of Heliopolis - the City of the Sun. Heliopolis is, or was, an ancient city - the home of a powerful prophet and the birthplace of the phoenix.” Samir let this sink in, watching the expressions on the pale European faces around him, wondering if they could possibly grasp the significance of what he was telling them.

“Within Heliopolis, there was said to be a magnificent temple - a monumental tribute to the Prophet of the Phoenix, who was himself a powerful wizard - a sorcerer, I believe you call it. According to legend, the Prophet was benevolent, judicious, and devoted to the well-being of those in the ancient world - magic and non-magic alike, patiently seeking to instruct, uplift, comfort and prosper those around him. For this, he has much beloved, as was his wife, a powerful witch in her own right. The Prophet and his wife were aided in their efforts not only by their own innate magic, but also by countless magical objects, and of course, by Benu, the First Phoenix. One of these objects (or set of objects, I should say) was the Cadeau Du Soleil - the gifts of the Sun. They were believed to be an amulet, worn by the Prophet's wife, and a ring, worn by the Prophet. The Cadeau Du Soleil purportedly endowed them with certain enhanced abilities, although exactly what, it's hard to say. Some conjecture that it was the power of the Cadeau Du Soleil that gave the Prophet his “sight”, but no one can really be sure. It is doubtful, however that it was the sole source of his “sight”, for the Prophet came to power long before the first mention of the Cadeau Du Soleil and of Benu..”

“And you're saying the Dark One is trying to obtain the Cadeau Du Soleil for himself?” Arthur asked, a look of concern on his face.

“That is what we fear.” said Samir, gravely.

It was all beginning to make sense now. “So the Dark One intends to use Bill's talent as a curse breaker to find and secure the Cadeau Du Soleil?” Sirius said, speaking for the first time.

“It is the logical conclusion,” Samir replied.

“Good Lord,” Arthur said, quietly, glad that Molly was at home and not hearing all this. He turned and looked at Sirius, who seemed to comprehend more fully than any of them the danger of a dark wizard suddenly endowed with the gift of near perfect “sight”. It made the urgency in the pit of Arthur's stomach far worse than it had been, if that were possible. “Samir, I must get my daughter, Ginny, home. She cannot remain here. Can you arrange a portkey for her?”

Samir frowned. His forehead wrinkled slightly. “Of course, a portkey can be arranged, but it is not as simple here as it is England. There will have to be a series of owls between the Egyptian Ministry and your Ministry in London. It might take
..a week perhaps.”

“A week!” Arthur bellowed. Behind him, Ginny, Fred and George smiled broadly. “But how are we to keep her out of harm's way for a week?”

Samir seemed unmoved by this outburst, “In the same manner that we intend to protect the rest of your party, sir.” He snapped his fingers and the veiled woman returned carrying native robes of all description.

“It is the considered opinion of the intelligence agencies within my ministry and yours that a large group of European wizards moving around Cairo is likely to attract unwanted attention. At the very least, attention that may interfere with your attempts to find your son, at the worst, attention that may place you at risk of finding yourself imprisoned along side him. Therefore,” said Samir evenly, “we suggest a scheme designed to enable you to search for your son more discreetly.”

“What sort of scheme?” Arthur asked.

“It is our intention to have you pose as a group of wealthy industrialists from the UAE (United Arab Emirates) here to provide financial backing for a group of archaeologists and to purchase certain oil rights in the desert.” Samir replied, taking the robes from the native woman and handing them around.

“Brilliant, Samir. Brilliant plan,” said Arthur, receiving his robes gratefully.

Arthur, Sirius, Fred, George, Harry, and Ron's robes were fairly typical of the native robes they had already seen as they crossed Cairo to Samir's “safe house”, although perhaps a bit nicer.

The “garments” given to Ginny and Hermione were not typical of anything they had seen in Cairo, or anywhere else for that matter.

There were headpieces and veils, not dissimilar to that of the women they had seen in the market place. It was the rest of the robes that were in striking contrast. Hermione held the flimsy garments up for inspection as Fred and George burst into laughter.

Hermione's face when completely white - first with shock, then with fury at Fred and George.

“What's the matter Hermione?” Fred asked with an air of assumed innocence, “can't find a pocket for your wand?”

“You know perfectly well what the matter is,” she snapped. “I can't go around dressed in...these”.

Samir bowed and addressed Hermione, speaking to her directly, “They may seem...unconventional to you ma'am, but I assure you they are common enough in this region. This attire will afford you a measure of protection that is critical to your safety and to the safety of your party.”

Hermione looked at Harry in mute appeal. Turning to Samir, Harry said, “And you're sure this is
 this
necessary?”

“For her own safety, and to conceal your identities, it would be best if she and Miss Weasley assumed the look and manner of the women in this region - an elite class of woman, certainly, but still, of this region.”

Hermione felt her stomach lurch uncomfortably
 “look and manner”
 “an elite class of woman”. She spoke stiffly to Samir, “And to what class of woman do you refer? What manner am I to assume?” Her voice had a dangerous edge that Harry knew all too well.

Samir, was seemingly unaware of any flaws in his carefully laid plans and answered mildly, “Why, that of the concubine, of course.” Absolute, total, dead silence.

He continued, “Your manner should be subservient, your eyes down-cast. Naturally, in public, you would walk five to ten steps behind the men in your party and of course, you shouldn't speak unless one of them addresses you.”

To their undying credit, Fred and George had somehow managed to keep quiet during most of Samir's casual explanation of Hermione's and Ginny's new wardrobe, but the last line was too much to bear. A burst of laughter ripped from Fred and George as though someone had exploded a paper bag. They clutched their sides from the delicious ache of uncontrolled laughter. Tears rolled down their faces. Ron grinned. Even Sirius chuckled softly, under his breath.

Ginny's response was perhaps the most practical
she hexed Fred and George with a speed and severity that would have made any auror jealous. “Petrificus Totalus,” she hissed, as a jet of red sparks enveloped the mirth-filled twins. They fell, like oversized bookends, to the floor in the throes of the full body bind.

Arthur was vexed. “Ginny!” he said sharply. She said nothing, but with a look of satisfaction, put away her wand.