Title taken from the Tartini Sonata in G minor, otherwise known as the "Devil's Trill" Sonata.

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Admittedly, Josephine spent more of her time in Africa on the western edges of the continent, cutting through thick jungle foliage and searching out relics that had been moved and traded during the 19th and 20th centuries.  She supposed it wasn’t so different from what they had been doing in Egypt.  It was the spot of her original training, the place where she had learned all of the basics to begin her work in other parts of the world.  So, she had the good sense to also take Magdalena there.  It provided the best training ground for anyone and Josephine only wanted to give her student the best. 

After braving courses, identifying objects, and ancient curses for at least a month (though, to be fair, she had stopped keeping track of time), Josephine was confident her student was ready.  It was a good thing to because her contact at the museum had contacted her with something strange: something not seen before but with heavy implications for curse breaking.  It wasn’t strictly bank business, but Josephine was a friend of the institution and after a previous… incident, they had an understanding: if Josephine was in Cairo, she was the one to be reached. 

Having made their way to the Supreme Council of Antiquities Museum[1] in Cairo, on the word of a colleague still stationed there, Josephine brought Magda along for the consult.  Rania Daher[2] met them at the front an hour after closing.  The sun had set and while it had been a comfortable temperature earlier in the day[3], the cold of night had settled over the desert.  Even Josephine had elected for a wrap upon leaving. 

Exchanging brief greetings, Josephine introduced her young student – almost a year under her service at this point, and asked if Rania could show them the way.  ”There’s been a recent excavation,” Rania began as they walked down the hall.  A chorus of heel clicks echoed around them in the massive and empty building.  ”And we’ve located something that’s never been found before.”

Information that had already been gleaned from the letter she’d received, but it was nice to hear it again, prepare herself.  She glanced at Magdalena at her side, hoping she had been thorough in her reading on the artifacts in question.[4].  They were generally not particularly dangerous to anyone, sometimes they required a little bit of curse breaking before the muggles could handle them, but even then those that assisted on the digs were usually more than prepared to stealthily handle those issues.  “This set was uncovered in a tomb forty miles south of the museum and transported immediately.  It has not been handled at all yet, pending the examination of a proper scholar.”  Of course, to muggles, this might have meant someone like Rania’s father, but in the wizarding world, it would go to someone like Josephine first. 

“Let’s see them then,” Josephine replied simply and Rania took out a ring of keys that would unlock the room in the back.  Sterile and white with silver detailing, it was everything a laboratory and preservation facility would need to be.  Sitting in the middle of a table were five jars, each with a distinct head: human, falcon, jackal, baboon (the typical), and crocodile[5] (entirely unheard of). 

Rania stood to the side, twisting the ring in her hands.  She was obviously nervous, but Josephine felt invigorated.  The rapid beating of her heart was spurred on by intrigue.  But that didn’t mean she would immediately jump in.  Instead, she looked over to her trainee, “What are we looking at, Eisenberg?” she asked simply, a drill for the young woman.  In all honesty, this was a task below her skill level, but Josephine used all opportunities as teaching moments.

1.	Museum Website
2.	Rania Daher is the squib daughter of an English curse breaker, Gloria Daher, and Egyptian magical scholar, Karim Daher.  She was educated at home and is well versed in acient Egyptian artifacts.  She is a liason between the wizarding world and the muggle museum, often providing vital tip offs to curse breakers on behalf of the muggle population.
3.	Historic weather
4.	Canopic Jars
5.	The head of the god Ammit.  Goddess that represents the devine retribution of all souls, or devourer of the dead, if you are going literal.  This is not a real canopic jar, but created for AO purposes.

Cairo was a city of gold: the ancient mausoleums of stone nestled in a swell of sand that both protected and obscured; the sand itself, which swathed the horizon more thickly than any wheat or canola field Magda had seen back home (and even then, the terrain was only comparable in hue). Even the river and silvery, modern Muggle buildings seemed to take on the sheen at sunset, glittering like the promise of magic imbued deep within the tombs. Magda knew that that magic promised not to be glittery at all, not beneath its varnish. It was bound to be warped and fortified by centuries of prospectors combing past its lair. Or falling into it.

The museum itself was a welcoming, peachy terra-cotta, flanked by soothing palms and a smooth concrete courtyard that had been blessedly cleared of muggle tourists at this hour. Magda could too easily see it in the daylight, packed with the amenities of muggle life: taxis, food stands, souvenirs, and technology. Signs laid out hours in many a language for those babbling groups of visitors who only half-listened to their guides as they paused every few feet to take photos with devices that Magda had been assured were actually telephones. They seemed as much enthralled with these as the history before them. It was the same in London.

Magda nodded as she offered a firm grip and polite greeting to Rania, her eyes trained entirely on the woman despite the lure of the cool marbled corridor and shadowboxes. Magda knew there would be time to drink those up as they walked. The brief interlude of entering the building and being introduced had been reserved more for vigilance than fancy. She was still young in this job, and there were many corners.

Rania’s words tickled at her skin just as the breeze had done on the sidewalk.

The lab, if eerie, promised few distractions, its color scheme that of snow. Magda mirrored Josephine in caution as they approached the table. Her wand had been pulled as they crossed into the room and was now raised, hovering above the table as if it might magnify the artifacts.

Magda straightened her shoulders at the question, unblinking as she continued to look at what had been unearthed.

“Canopic Jars,” she said after a moment, quiet but confident. “For holding internal organs of the deceased. Most usually a pharaoh or someone of similarly high stature.” She looked up at the women. Josephine seemed much more in control than the squib— not surprising. “The deities carved on the lids were meant for protection, but this one—” She gestured to the center-most jar. “It’s different.” Magda’s wand seemed to ghost over the crocodile head, which radiated a sort of dangerous… femininity. Ammit. She'd popped up regularly in books over the past year of post-graduate studies. “Ammit is not a son of Horus. She didn’t protect or guard. She was…” Magda’s wand was a breath from the crocodile’s face. She stared hard. “Divine retribution.” A dementor, in the shape of a goddess.

She looked up at Josephine again. “This couldn’t have been muggles.” Obviously. Even the nervous squib had caught that. But the jar, like the others, was not obviously imbued with any sort of magic. Its carving might have been preserved for thousands of years, its contents probably dust, but it was no more or less sustained, not from the outside. “Do you think it was planted with the others, or were they made by the same person?”

Her protégé was correct.  Canopic jars.

A unique set, indeed.  Ammit stared up at them, blank undefined eyes perched atop and unblinking.  It was certainly different.  While Rania looked worried, Josephine felt delighted – thrilled at such an incredible find. 

The implications were staggering.  Whatever was locked into that jar… Her nostrils flared as she sucked in a breath.  “The devourer of souls,” Rania squeaked in, building on Eisenberg’s answer. 

The young witch now looked to her for answers.  “Clearly,” she cut in quickly, “but not necessarily unknown by muggles,” she amended for her charge.  “There were no statutes of secrecy in Ancient Egypt,” Josephine’s eyes flicked back to the squib, “have the writings been consulted?”

Rania bit her lip, eyes wide and glassy.  “Yes,” she started with a vocal warble, “We’ve reviewed the museum collection and have been in correspondence with several other museums – muggle and magic.  The British Museum[1] had the most detailed response.  They sent this.”  The witch hurried across the floor and dug into a drawer, fingers flying over the edges of yellowed files.  She extracted one with a quick flourish and Josephine flicked her wand, summoning it wordlessly.  “Thank you,” she muttered and let it fall open in her hand. 

A stack of sheets of thin paper with  black and white, grainy images sat inside.  Her eyes found the label on the first page: handwritten, clearly not catalogued fully yet or it would have been typed: muggles.  Funerary text[2], Old Kingdom[3]. Location: Undetermined.  Year: Undetermined.  She looked to Rania who nodded in understanding: it was an odd thing.  While Josephine kept her eyes on the hieroglyphs, busily thumbing through, Rania addressed Eisenberg’s inquiry: “Do you think it was planted with the others, or were they made by the same person?”

Rania walked to assume the space next to Eisenberg and began to explain in her melodic accent, “It is highly unlikely.  Canopic Jars were religiously significant – a requirement for the afterlife, perfection would be demanded.  The artisans to make them would be few and far between, particularly in a set like this – Old Kingdom.” 

Satisfied with her initial interpretation of the writings, Josephine held out the file toward Eisenberg.  “Look at this,” she instructed.  The focus here was… off as far as the Pyramid Texts[4] were concerned.  These wards… Josephine shivered, that would need to come with them as well.  Eisenberg could carry them out. 

Josephine looked to Rania, “And there were no other replies?”

“Nothing in the affirmative that would give us even a clue where to start, that file is it,” she responded quickly and walked back to the cabinet to extract that file as well.  Excellent, Josephine was going to ask.  That would make all of this much easier.  She handed the file to her,  “We are still waiting to hear from the National Museum in Damascus, however.” Josephine stored that away as she quickly perused the file before again holding it out to Eisenberg to take.  The last bit from Damascus would have to be intercepted at some point.  ”What did you think?” 

She paused, tilting her head in thought.  “It’s hard to say with such a… precursory look, however…” her word dragged for only a moment before she lifted her wand and thrust forward, “Stupefy!” she announced and before anyone could do anything, Rania was struck back and crumpled to the ground. 

It was almost upsetting, using a wand against an unarmed individual, but the necessity was there.  “Eisenberg,” she dropped her leather bag from her shoulder and held it out.  “There are dragon leather gloves in that bag.  Put the file inside and then put on the gloves.  You’ll need to wear them to handle the jars.  Leviosa the Ammit,” she instructed, “we take no risks.” 

And as such, Josephine walked forward and crouched down, heels lifting off the linoleum as she held her wand above her temple.  “Oblivate,” she swished her wand and watched as wisps of white rose from Rania’s forehead like crackling flames before dissipating into smoke.

She rose slowly from her crouch and turned to the files.  Her wand swirled as she wordlessly changed the relevant files.  Any remaining mention of the find was altered in those pages.  Making her way over to the still open cabinet, Josephine saw the edge of the larger file Rania had pulled from and touched her wand to the file.  A memory altering charm would suit it perfectly - anyone who touched the file would instantly forget what they were looking for.  An extra trick she'd picked up from the archaeological digs she'd been privy to in the past. 

When she was done, she turned and looked over at Eisenberg, “You’re done?” Josephine asked without checking and pointed her wand into the air, sending a shock through the air.  The lights crackled and a high electric hum shook the air before everything shorted out, the sizzles of overheated wires hissing before silence.  That should take care of any muggle surveillance.  She lit the tip of her wand and again turned to Eisenberg, “Follow me.”

1.	Museum Webpage
2.	Funerary Texts
3.	Old Kingdom
4.	The Pyramid Texts were a collection of spells, prayers, descriptions and instructions designed to allow the king a safe journey to the Afterlife.

Magdalena remained quiet as the women conversed, and paid particularly close attention to Rania’s answer pertaining to other expert responses. Her eyes snapped from the squib to Josephine, gauging for a reaction, dropping to the file in her hands. The witch was a maestro of investigation. The aurors would have been lucky to have her talent.

It was easy not to seem like a small, grabby-hands child when Josephine decided to share the file. Magda accepted it coolly, keeping her excitement to an outward minimum. As she poured over the Pyramid text, she thought back to the many heavy tomes the redhead had assigned her in recent weeks.

Magda had learned well from her— and knew, either way, when to keep her mouth shut. If her head shot up again, if she was curious about the delay in Damascus’ answer, she did not say anything. She wouldn’t want the poor, anxious squib to suspect any dishonorable behavior.

Which seemed exactly what her brilliant boss had in mind.

The squib dropped, almost soundless despite the hard floor. Magda’s eyes flew again to Josephine. “I’d like to see that letter from Damascus,” she admitted soberly, as she drew her wand. But she knew there were other ways. Josephine could likely fill in the gaps, as it was apparent she was quite done with the squib.

She also knew they couldn’t be the only ones with an interest in the jars.

Magda wasted no time in slipping her wand into her belt to don the gloves. Her hands were far less unhurried than her eyes, which continued to devour the details of the artifact even as she nestled it safely in its new home atop the files for transport. Wielding her wand again as if it were a slim, sharp knife, she summoned Ammit. She wondered whether this was what it was like to encounter a Horcrux. Was it only her young fancy, that she felt something resonating from it? Would her mother chastise her if she spoke of it?

She dropped the gloves atop the treasure, zipped the bag quickly and pulled it over her shoulder, sparing no attention for the squib on the floor.

They quickly rounded the a corner, going back the way they had come. Magda looked over her shoulder, making sure no one had followed. Only the echo of their heels sounded in the corridor. As they swept away from the museum’s heart, she noted a blinking Muggle camera pointed in the opposite direction. Her wand hand didn’t hesitate. A jet of light, and the thing was nearly on fire, its strange muggle innards imploding much like the technology had back in the lab.

"Do any copies of this text exist? Did she it anywhere?" She asked in a hushed voice. "If she only sent them what she sent you..." As she brushed a finger against Josephine’s palm, a necessity for Apparating to her superior’s destination of choice— be it the hotel or elsewhere— she thought of Damascus, what she knew of it: the point on the map, the brief bit of history she’d learned in school, the references in the books with which Josephine had weighted her trunk.