Chapter 206: Hostility and the Wizarding Village
Cyril went to the bathroom to rinse the taste from his mouth while Ethan stayed in the living room to vanish the contents of the bucket. "At this rate, another four days and he should be fully healed," Ethan murmured, casting the Vanishing Spell and tucking his notes into his bag.
"One last check of your bag," Cyril said upon his return. "Make sure you haven't forgotten anything. Some items are difficult to acquire in Egypt."
"Right." Ethan opened his black Undetectable Extension Charm bag and began taking inventory. The bag, which had once seemed so spacious, was now more than half full of various supplies. He would need room to bring back whatever they found, so he had intentionally left some space, planning to fill the remainder with easily replaceable items like spare clothes. Highly valuable but non-essential artifacts for this trip, such as the Diadem of Ravenclaw and most of his potion stock, had been left securely at home.
He pulled out his packing list and began checking items off one by one. "Potions, defensive artifacts, wands..." With each item he verified, he crossed its name off the list. Soon, every entry was marked.
"Everything's accounted for." He casually ignited the list with a flicker of flame from his fingertip and dropped the ashes into the bin. The motion was so smooth and automatic that he froze mid-action. *Magic is becoming second nature.* *That was wandless, a manifestation of my innate talent.* *I need to be more careful.* *If I were to do that in front of someone from the Ministry, or any other wizard, I'd be in for some serious questions.*
He had grown accustomed to disposing of his rough notes in the Room of Requirement this way. It was why, instead of simply discarding the list or Vanishing it, his instinct had been to burn it. In isolation, it was a minor thing; he was no longer subject to the Trace. But after the incident at the café the day before, he needed to be more circumspect. *I wonder if the Ministry will follow up on my report.* *I can't very well ask now.* *I'll write and inquire once we're back.* He gave himself a mental warning.
Cyril, having more items to organize, took a bit longer. He methodically packed and then rechecked the substantial pile of gear laid out on the table. "All right, I'm set. Give me the things you want to keep safe. I'll put them away at the manor."
"Mm." Ethan handed him a smaller bag containing the vital bloodline potions and the Diadem.
"You head home first. I'll drop these off, grab my suitcase, and meet you there for lunch." Cyril took the bag and, with a crack of Apparition, vanished.
Back in his own bedroom, Ethan fed Edward one last time before the trip while Sofia packed a few of his clothes into a small suitcase. Once the owl was fed, Ethan turned to Cyril, who had just arrived. "Grandfather, aren't there Portkeys directly from Britain to Egypt?"
Before Cyril could answer, Sofia looked up with interest. "Portkeys? Those magical items that can transport you vast distances in an instant? Why don't you use one of those to get to Egypt? Wouldn't it be much easier than flying?"
Cyril explained to them both. "There are indeed Portkeys that go directly to Egypt, and quite a few of them. However, most are illegal. The few legitimate ones are strictly controlled by the Ministry of Magic. Both the British and Egyptian Ministries agreed on this to prevent the illicit movement of wizards across borders. To use a legal Portkey, you have to apply in advance and then use the designated Portkey at the appointed time and place."
"So the application process is too complicated?" Sofia assumed it was like Muggle government bureaucracy.
Not particularly complicated, no. If you have a valid reason, the permits are fairly easy to obtain. The reason we're flying is simpler: there are no legal Portkeys to Asyut. The sanctioned Portkeys to Egypt arrive at a few specific locations, and Asyut isn't one of them. And if we were to Portkey to Cairo and then use the Floo Network, I'd be concerned about Ethan mispronouncing an Arabic place name and ending up somewhere... problematic. Flying is just more straightforward.
He looked at Ethan and suddenly grinned. "But if you'd like to experience a Portkey, we can arrange to use one when we leave. We can apply to the Egyptian Ministry for a trip from Cairo."
"That smile is a bit unsettling, Grandfather."
Cyril clapped him on the shoulder with a laugh. "Portkey travel isn't so different from Apparition. You'll see what I mean when you try it." He then turned to Sofia. "If you're curious, when we get back, I can make a short-range Portkey for you to try. It's technically illegal, but perfectly safe as long as we're discreet."
"Alright." Ethan had described the sensation of Apparition to her before. After a moment's consideration, Sofia nodded firmly, deciding she was game for the new experience.
Five hours later, their plane touched down at Asyut International Airport. The airport, originally built in the 1920s during the British colonial era, had been expanded after Egypt gained independence but was still relatively small. After collecting their luggage, they followed the signs to the immigration registration office. Two people sat behind the desk: a middle-aged man in a suit with a full beard, and a younger woman wearing a headscarf.
"You here to register?" the man asked, rising and speaking in heavily accented, somewhat broken English.
"Yes, we need to register," Cyril replied, clearly accustomed to the accent. He drew his wand and displayed it.
"Please, come with me." The four of them entered a back room. The setup was virtually identical to the registration offices in Britain and France, right down to the instruments. Though the wizard's English was poor, Ethan could mostly understand him, and the interaction proceeded smoothly enough.
However, when Ethan gave his place of origin for the registry, the wizard muttered something under his breath in Arabic. Ethan didn't understand the words, but Cyril's reaction made it clear they were far from friendly. Cyril's expression hardened, glaring at the wizard's back. The man continued to work, muttering, but the witch noticed the tension and tugged urgently at his sleeve. The wizard glanced back, saw Cyril's baleful glare, and fell silent.
Once they were outside, Ethan asked, "What did he say?"
"Just some insults. General slurs against Britain and the British. Given his age, he probably lived through the colonial period." Cyril didn't repeat the specifics.
"Is that attitude common in the Egyptian wizarding world?" Ethan wondered aloud. "If a Ministry employee treats British wizards that way, how much worse must it be among the general populace? Enid mentioned there'd been open conflict between British and Egyptian wizards during the early days of colonization."
Judging by that wizard's attitude, Ethan suspected their journey might not be entirely smooth. He quickly thought of a way around it. "Once we leave the airport, no one will know where I'm from unless I tell them. I could simply pose as a French wizard. Wouldn't that avoid any trouble?"
Cyril shook his head. Finding a quiet, secluded corner, he lowered his voice. "There are some things I planned to tell you once we were in the desert, but this seems as good a time as any." He held up two fingers. "Based on my time in Egypt over the past decade, that plan will only work half the time."
"What do you mean?"
"There are two distinct groups of wizards in Egypt. Your plan might work on those educated at Uagadou, but it would be useless against the other group. Many older wizards, or those from established magical families, either lived through the conflicts with Britain themselves or have family members who did. They resent British wizards specifically, but are generally civil toward other Europeans. Passing yourself off as French would work with them. I was planning to mention that later."
Cyril's expression grew serious. "But for the second group, those trained through the master-apprentice system, it makes no difference at all. They don't distinguish between European nationalities. If you look British, you are a target for their hostility.
"If you ever travel alone in Egypt, or any unfamiliar country for that matter, you must remember this. If you encounter a strange wizard in the wilderness, be on your guard immediately. If you share a common language, you can attempt to communicate. If they show no hostility, you can both slowly back away, maintaining a defensive posture. But if communication is impossible and they display hostile intent, you must be extremely careful. They are likely preparing to attack. In that situation, whether you strike first or prepare a defense and wait to counter depends entirely on the circumstances."
Cyril had not described any specific combat actions, but Ethan sensed that these were hard-won lessons, likely forged from personal experience and more than a few close calls. He nodded solemnly. "I understand."
Seeing that Ethan had heeded the warning, Cyril offered some reassurance. "I don't expect any problems on this trip, though. With so many capable wizards in our party, no one in their right mind would dare challenge us directly."
"That's true." Ethan relaxed a little.
At the arrivals gate, they spotted a wizard holding a sign with Cyril's name. "That's the local wizard I hired," Cyril said quietly. "His full name is quite long, but you can call him Nadim. We've corresponded."
"Over here!" Cyril waved to the wizard, a middle-aged man with light brown skin, a thick beard, and curly black hair, then quickened his pace.
"Mr. Shafiq, hello." The wizard's smile was open and friendly, and his English was noticeably better than the official's at the airport.
"Hello, Nadim." This was Cyril's first time meeting the man in person. Nadim, who would serve as their guide, translator, and additional security, had been hired on a friend's recommendation. They had originally planned to meet in Aswan, but the change in itinerary had brought them to Asyut. According to Cyril's friend, however, Nadim was familiar with most of Egypt's wizarding villages and was reasonably fluent in several local languages.
Nadim tossed the sign into a bin. "Let's go. Your companions from France arrived yesterday."
"Where are they staying?"
"Semkhet. A village for people like us," Nadim said, tapping his chest. "They're at the inn there." The airport was crowded, so Nadim kept things vague. Ethan and Cyril understood immediately: a wizarding village, just like Hogsmeade.
Nadim led them to a worn-looking car. "Who's this?" Ethan asked, noticing a man already seated in the driver's seat.
"A friend of mine," Nadim explained as he loaded their light suitcases into the trunk. "He also owns the inn. He's giving us a ride to Semkhet." Nadim climbed into the passenger seat and, as they set off, turned to explain, "Timur isn't much of a talker, and his English is limited. I hope you'll understand."
"Not a problem. Did you both attend Uagadou?"
Nadim shook his head slightly. "I did. Timur didn't." He came from a wizarding family and had chosen not to go. The inn was his inheritance. But his family had ties to Uagadou going back generations.
"You can do that? Just choose not to attend?" Ethan had never heard of such a thing.
"Of course. It's quite common in Africa. Uagadou is an excellent school, but for some families with strong private traditions, it isn't necessarily the best fit. Many wizards prefer to educate their children at home, passing down their own unique magical knowledge." Nadim spoke as if this were nothing unusual.
*That explains the prevalence of the master-apprentice system in Africa,* he thought. "How many students attend Uagadou, then?" He was genuinely curious about the size of the school that served the entire continent.
"I'm not entirely sure," Nadim admitted. "For historical reasons, when you enroll at Uagadou, you first choose your language of instruction: French, English, or Arabic. I chose Arabic. In my year, the Arabic cohort had about a hundred students. Based on that, perhaps fifteen hundred in the whole school?"
"That few?" he said, surprised. It was less than twice the size of Hogwarts. "The majority are like Timur, then. They simply don't attend."
The drive from the airport to Semkhet took about an hour. He spent most of it quizzing Nadim about every aspect of Uagadou he could think of.
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