Once her business meeting had concluded for the day, Raizel had taken her time winding her way through the streets of London on the warm summer night.  She had arrived at the restaurant just after seven -- long enough to make it clear that she wasn't making any particular effort to hurry, but not so late that her dinner companion would start to think that she didn't intend to come.

Adon Eleor had been the furthest thing from an enigma back in her school days.  She'd known him too well -- exactly which buttons to push, what sharp words to select in order to send him suddenly and irrepressibly hurdling over the edge, and then what phrases to use to reel him back in again.  Raizel suspected that he would have said the exact same thing about her; most of their problems had sprung from the fact that they were both seventeen and knew each other's every quirk.  When they'd run out of enemies, they'd turned to challenging each other.  Calling the end result an unmitigated disaster was only a slight exaggeration.

As much as she might be prepared to needle him over it, she hadn't come tonight to forgive or ask for forgiveness.  The mage's words had been cryptic, designed to intentionally needle her now as much as they had ever done when they were both teenagers.  The mention of a 'friend' (Raizel inserted the mental air quotes in her mind) under an Egyptian curse, and yet he was coming to her instead of using his resources at the British Ministry.   Whatever had happened, the situation was obviously unusual enough that she couldn't help wanting to know.

She hadn't bothered to find out anything about the restaurant in advance, but it was every bit as high cultured as she had expected of Adon Eleor.  If he'd never flaunted his wealth when she'd known him, it was simply because use of it came too naturally to him.  Confident that she hadn't overdressed for the occasion -- and entirely pleased with herself that she'd worn a color besides green, Raizal exchanged a few friendly words with the maitre d', gave up her shawl, and let the host escort her to the table.

It took only a moment of scanning the room ahead of her before she caught sight of her former schoolmate.  Adon had taken great pleasure in being unofficially deemed the best looking student at Beit Gaddol.  Even seated, he looked much as she remembered him -- trim and fit, though with the build of a man still in his best years now, instead of a boy.  Close-cropped dark hair.  Strong, even features.  Except --

Raizel broke stride for only an instant, her eyes tracing the lines of his scars.

"Adon," she said warmly, recovering quickly.  Her gaze flickered to meet his own as she stepped forward to greet him.  She placed her left hand on his arm, right closed into a fist behind her back as she leaned to kiss his cheek.  "It's good to see you," she told him with a smile, her voice sincere.  "I'll have to remember not to set you on fire tonight, so that we don't need to wait another ten years to have our next dinner."

"It seems that not everything has made it into our school's alumni registry after all, though," she observed, keeping her hand pressed to his arm a moment longer before letting go.  She stepped away, brows knitting with mild curiosity as she regarded his expression.  "When did you get the scars?"

Adon rose as soon as he saw her—it would be obscenely commonplace to say he first noticed the golden color of her hair. So he decided instead to rake his eyes across her figure—as discreetly as possible. Once she was within sight, he pulled her in for a hug, arm wrapping comfortably around her slim waist.  “You look stunning—as always,” he murmerd complimentarily. 

"It seems that not everything has made it into our school's alumni registry after all, though. When did you get the scars?"

Adon became rigid and, had it not been for the soft pressure on his arm—Raizel’s already reassuring touch—he would have continued to be so.  As he was, he took his arm back, brows lowered and managed a closed: “April 2005.” He gestured towards the empty seat across from him.

Pulling out her chair, he waited until she was seated. His fingers nearly skimmed the bare skin of her back—an instinct he didn’t realize he still had—before he remembered that he felt rather upset at the moment for her question.

His display of melancholy discomfort—calculated to make her feel as guilty as possible—dropped completely into an expression of surprise as he noticed her right hand; moving across her lap.  For a moment, Adon felt satisfaction in his grasp, and he considered a retaliatory When did you go missing those?—but decided against it.  He sipped from the ice water before him, raising his eyebrows expressively before asking, “And how have you been?” He gave a roguish smile. “Up to no good, I assume.”

The sudden tension chilled any friendly reunion.  Whatever had caused the scars was obviously not a topic for conversation.  For now, she would let it go; apparently the decade since she'd known him had opened some new wounds, but she wasn't here to dig.  Raizel allowed him to seat her, ignoring the show of melancholy as he retreated.  That was the Adon Eleor she remembered: always ready to be wounded, quick to fall into a sulk or show a fit of temper.

This time, though, he recovered more quickly than she could ever recall -- though it wasn't hard to guess the reason.  Raizel kept her mouth shut, her expression firmly friendly and polite as she met his gaze steadily across the table.

“And how have you been?  Up to no good, I assume.”

Raizel laughed, shooting him a mischievous smile.  "Would you be disappointed if I admitted to anything less?" she asked, smiling back at him.  "I suppose I'll have to start thinking of some stories to get us both through dinner.  You'll have to promise to be kind if you feel obligated to arrest me."

The waiter had stopped to deliver their menus; he gave them a quick run down of the specials for the evening, and then departed to let them decide.  Raizel glanced at the mage across the table, taking in his silhouette with consideration for a moment, and then adjusted the menu, setting it to lay flat on the table in front of her.

"I'm sure you tire of hearing it, but the look suits you," she said, giving him a faint, warm smile as she ran a finger down the list.  "Just don't go thinking that I'm going to start confessing all of my notorious deeds to you simply because you happen to be even better looking than you were in school.  It's going to take at least a drink or two before I lose all semblance of self-control."

"Would you be disappointed if I admitted to anything less?"

Adon's smirk was wicked.  "Perhaps--I think I'd prefer to have to drag it out of you... I've almost finished my training in that, you know..." he teased.  "And I'm not sure I'm a soft touch, Raizel.  If you're wanting a Auror full of hugs and kind words to ask you questions... you'd have to talk to Dean Bailey."

It didn't matter that Raizel had absolutely no idea who Dean Bailey was. The image of Dean having any sort of conversation with Raizel Cohen was hilarious.  He grinned proudly to himself and looked down at the menu, flipping to the back section, instantly.  It'd be what he needed first, if this conversation was to go well.

"I'm sure you tire of hearing it, but the look suits you."

Raizel, circling her prey like a vulture; luring them in like a siren.  "Hmm," he said indifferently, though he smiled quietly to himself.  He looked up, amused. "Already flattering me, and you haven't even had the food yet.  I'd ask what your agenda is for the evening, but I'd much rather wait and see."

Though, from the way Raizel was talking, it didn't seem like it would take long.

"It's going to take at least a drink or two before I lose all semblance of self-control."

The waiter arrived, a towel over his arm--why did they do that--and no pad of paper. Swanky. Committing to memory. 

"We'll start with a bottle of Dalton Caanan," he decided. "And tigliatelli for starters, if you please."

The waiter nodded and headed off.

"So," he said, folding his arms on the tablecloth and leaning in conspiratorily. "One or two drinks should be making their way here shortly. This may be an interesting dinner."  He supposed they needed to cover the same old, tired ground first, though. Smiling as he scanned her face, he said, "It has been too long. I would say I had waited too long--but you could have just as easily contacted me, I think..." He tilted his head. "Unless you've been out of reach. Where does Gringotts send you to, anyhow? Besides this rainy, unpleasant island?"

Raizel arched her eyebrows, clearly amused by the description.  "You are the one who chose to live here, aren't you?" she asked teasingly.  "You should speak better of your new home, Auror Eleor.  It hasn't rained once on this trip," she added chidingly, inclining her head toward the door.  "And the company so far has been pleasant enough, though I am still reserving judgement on this evening."

She pressed her tongue against the back of her teeth, regarding him consideringly.  He was obviously fishing.  Probably more because he wanted to see if her skill set matched whatever he was looking for -- assuming, Raizel thought dryly, that his mythical kind friend from school hadn't solved the problem for him -- and only slightly the result of genuine curiosity.  Genuineness didn't often enter into the vocabulary of their interactions.

The return of the waiter cut off any quick response.  Raizel waited as he uncorked the bottle, gave Adon the first sip to taste, and then when met with approval, decanted the wine into the two glasses.  She waited until he had left, gaze still fixed on the man seated across the table.  Lifting the glass, she swirled the wine slowly, giving it a moment to breath.

"You still have good taste," she informed him, flashing him a slight smile.  "I don't often come to England -- present company excluded, but many of the people here are --"  She clicked her tongue, searching for the right word before finding it with a smile.  "Suppressed.  I think sometimes I should lose my mind for lack of anyone who will speak theirs."

That was perhaps not the most delicate way of putting it, not when the mage before her had been born on these shores and had obviously chosen to live here again.  Raizel shrugged, quirking her mouth in half-apology as she rested the good fingers of her right hand against the stem of the wine glass.

"I've spent most of the time in Europe," she replied, keeping her gaze on his face.  "Mostly East of the Rhine.  Israel more recently, but I think they like to start us away from our homelands, just in case.  A bit in Russia and the United States.  North Africa.  Turkey.  And quite some time Egypt," she added, with a slowly blossoming smile.  "I'd offer to show you my passport as proof, but it makes crossing some borders more difficult than it needs to be, so you'll have to take my word for it."  She lifted her eyebrows, meeting his eyes in seeming challenge.  "Would you like to make the toast?"

"Well. It's not Israel," Adon said, somewhat surlily, as he reached over for his wine glass. As he sipped, Adon rasied his eyebrows at her cheeky comment about company.  "Hm," he said, pressing his lips together as he swallowed. "Hopefully that wine burns through those reservations--as you said. I never did like judgment."

He did smile, however, at her pronounced judgment of England. That he didn't mind so much.  "Getting them to speak their mind? It's very simple. You sit in silence for about 10-15 seconds. No more. Then you threaten to leave--just start to get up, and they usually spill everything.  You'd be good at it, I think." He smirked and gave a subdued laugh.  She always did know the proper buttons to push. "It is getting them to stop talking, once you've uncorked them, that is the problem, I find."

Not that Jonas was every English person out there. But he was the one Adon knew best.  And the strategy had worked when applied more broadly, he found.

Adon listened to her unofficial travel schedule, honing in on--and rather neglecting--the other bits she said.  He leaned in a bit, eyes focused.

"Just in case--what?" he asked pointedly, the moment he could. In case her loyalty to Israel was stronger than her loyalty to Gringott's? In case she was doing something so secretive she couldn't be recognized? Unless the work was so unpleasant they were afraid she would never do another job with them--they'd rather her alone, out of her element, and reliant upon them?
 
He didn't like this. None of the possibilities seemed pleasant. She requested--commanded... aggressively solicited--a toast, but Adon have a jerk of his head "no," and shook his hand dismissively, eyes intent on her.  "Why can't they start an employee in their homeland? I mean, theoretically, you'd be in your element, there, and at your best."

Raizel stared at him, her brows knitting.  The dismissal of the toast wasn't so unsettling -- she'd been expecting him to refuse at some point this evening, just to prove that he was uncooperative -- but she hadn't expected him to respond with such vivid intensity to an off-handed comment, one that she hadn't even made to purposely provoke him.

Pressing her tongue against the back of her teeth, she took a careful breath that she wouldn't have bothered with back in school and cast a glance toward the other diners.  The waiter was nowhere to be seen; all of the other parties seemed to be happily chatting away in both English and Hebrew and one could only guess at how many other languages.  No one was paying any attention to their discussion.

She looked back to the Auror, dark eyes meeting his own intently.  "Why would they want me in my element?" she asked, searching his gaze for some hint of his meaning.  "They're goblins, Adon.  They don't trust mages."

The next day's business weighed heavily enough without having an excuse to think about it.  Suddenly self conscious, Raizel adjusted her grip on her wine glass, tightening her fingers around it as she shifted position in her chair.  If she'd wanted to discuss politics, there were a dozen other dinner companions that she could have chosen; she was here because she was curious, and because she'd been expecting to have a little fun.

Raizel rolled her shoulders in an easy shrug, giving Adon a half smile as she swirled her wine glass, and then raised it to take a sip.  "But I don't think you asked me to dinner to discuss Gringotts' training methods," she said teasingly.  "How have you done with reversing this curse on your friend?  It is all fixed by now, I assume?"

OOC warning: Adon-language.


Raizel's body language said everything. The moment goblins were brought up--her job--she was transformed. No longer teasing, no longer confidently challenging. She wasn't taking charge anymore. She was pleading for a conversation change. Fidgeting in her chair, fingers wrapped around the wine glass stem tightly, sipping to fill the silence...


Adon watched her lift her glass, eyes on her missing fingers.

Shit.


"I'll fucking kill them," he muttered in a strained whisper.  Adon hadn't really meant the words to come out; quietly, he looked down at the table before taking a sip of his wine, which nearly didn't go down, with his jaw that tight.


It wasn't that he had any claim over Raizel.  They hadn't spoken in 10 years. It was just the thought that--she'd been a best friend during a difficult time, and even if she did drive him crazy, even if she did manipulate him from time to time for recreation... she'd always been there when it counted.


And some goblin bastards took two fingers and her independence for a job. He cleared his throat, sniffed. "Sorry," he apologized.  "They're just--" he cut himself off. Talking about goblins would not occur without fully utilizing his rather extensive, profane vocabulary.


Which was probably not attractive.


"not what we are going to talk about right now."


Adon was quiet a moment.  Thinking about not talking about goblins. Which lasted until he'd thought up a whole sentence about goblins that he wouldn't say. Except he did. "If they ever--if you find yourself in need of an ally--someone who knows you in your element. . . you know you can count on me, yes? It's been 10 years, but," he gave a ghost of a smile, "when we were of a mind to be, we were one hell of a team."


Raizel was looking much smaller, much less happy, and much less confident than she had when she strode in.  It made Adon cringe inwardly. It made him sad. Taking a cleansing breath, he lifted his glass. "Which," he said with affected, determined optimism, "deserves its own toast. To the glory days." Which was probably not the most accurate way to sum up their relationship which had, quite literally, gone up in flames at a formal dance. "May tablecloths and formal gowns everywhere shake in terror at our reunion."

The Auror's meaning, for better or for worse, suddenly became clear.  Raizel looked away, all pretense of changing the subject gone, her face heated as she stared intently at some point on the opposite wall of the room. 

This was the Adon Eleor that she remembered too clearly as well.  Constantly searching for a crusade, seizing upon the smallest wrong and setting after it like a terrier.  It had surprised no one when word had spread that he'd enlisted after graduation; as a teenager, he'd been constantly searching for a chip to wear on his shoulder, and there was no more prominent one than the IDF's green uniform.  She gripped the stem of the wine glass tightly, preparing to rise to her feet and dismiss this reunion entirely as a bad idea.

Except just as suddenly as the explosion had started, it stopped.  Adon cut himself off and let it go.  The concession and the silence was as deafening as it was unexpected; the offer that followed even more so.

Raizel's gaze shot back to him, and she pressed her lips together, scanning his face warily.  There wasn't any hint of ulterior motive, no sense that he had seized on something to pressure her into the response he wanted.  The offer of an ally -- and the toast that followed -- was as genuine and uncalculating as any outburst he'd ever had as a teenager.  It was a peace offering as much as it was a change in subject.  Flashing him a quick, warm smile, she raised her glass as well.

"To old friendships," she offered in kind.  "Although you probably shouldn't tell your brother that you invited me to dinner tonight," she added with more humor.   "I think he might feel obligated to report the reunion to the local authorities, just in case."

Knowing Dreogan Eleor, the assessment probably wasn't too far off the mark.  But the words had barely left her when she realized that she didn't know how the sometimes-close, sometimes-strained relationship with his older brother had changed over the years.  Adon was here in London, but he could very well be living within leagues of his family and still not have any contact with them.  The least she could do was reciprocate in kind and change the subject as well.

"You make it very hard to justify hating you for the last ten years," Raizel confessed, giving him a smile that took any sting out of the words.  She lowered her wine glass, her fingers still looped loosely around it, encircling the wide body.  "And you don't need to apologize.  It isn't --"  She changed thoughts mid-sentence.  "I appreciate it," she amended, meeting his gaze steadily, questioningly.  "You saying that.  If I find myself in need of an ally," she added, with a dry, teasing smile, "I will perhaps swallow my pride and send you an owl instead of hunting down some kind, hugging friend from school."

"Speaking of which, Auror Eleor," she continued, tilting her head quizzically as she looked expectantly to him.  "Who is this friend that you were so concerned I might break while I was helping her?  Did you tell her the asking price of my aid was taking me to dinner?  I am somewhat surprised she allowed you to cooperate." 

Adon gave a quiet laugh at her returning toast. The thought of Dreogan now bothering to break up a dinner was unlikely. He'd moved to a grander scale. He'd recently had a habit of trying to break up investigations, travel plans, and career choices.


"I mean it, of course," he said simply. He allowed the sincerity to linger a bit in the air, before dismissing it indefinitely. "Though if I had known you had stooped so low as to hate!" Adon clicked his tongue in reprimand.  "I held you in high esteem, I will have you know." Which made him the better person. Because these things were competitions and, to his knowledge, he was definitely winning.
"You'd better contact me. Goblins would eat your kind, hugging friend from school alive," Adon quipped back. "Not to boast, but I'm definitely the better bet. Especially if you're talking about Elias Scholz." He gave a guffaw as he tried to imagine the lanky boy in their year who had, quite openly, expressed his interest in Raizel.


If he'd actually been a threat--or had more meat on his bones--Adon'd have punched the kid out. But there'd never been any real jealousy, there.  Nothing like what Raizel was expressing right now.


Raizel was persistent--and very interested in Adon's "female friend." Adon gave his best affectation of an innocent smile, shrugging. "Oh, I don't think we need names just now, Raizel. It always turns something personal..." He tilted his head, challengingly.  "Unless, of course, it already is? I wouldn't worry about my friend, too much. I'd worry more about my kind, hugging friend. She didn't end up being from school, but she did nearly put you out of a job. I might have a couple of things you could look into, though, since you seem so interested. When we first talked about it, this dinner was a chance to catch up. But, since it's your asking price, and I've met it..." he grinned wolfishly, "I guess I've already engaged your services."

The moment of painfully honest sentiments had slipped into the past, and Raizel was more than content to let it go.  The teasing competition, sometimes verging on a friendly rivalry and sometimes slipping into much more.  Once upon a time, she had been wholly taken with the idea of actually winning; tonight, the idea of simply testing the rules of engagement felt far more appealing.

The display of old weapons hadn't taken very long.  Raizel raised her eyebrows at Adon's name dropping, amusement showing on her face.  "You might be surprised," she said with a grin.  "Unlike you, I do not restrict myself to keeping in contact with only kind old friends.  Although Elias Scholz and I exchange letters weekly; he happens to be a very cutting figure in herbological circles."

There was certain to be some kind of clever rejoinder to that.  Her one-time schoolmate had been especially dismissive of boys who were shorter, less outgoing, or less supposedly handsome than he, although his endless professions to not be jealous had clearly verged on protesting too much.  Luckily, any immediate retort was cut off by the return of the waiter.  He delivered the pasta, waited to take the order for the main course, and then departed once more. 

Raizel waited until the waiter had vanished before lifting her wine glass again.  "You've engaged me for a consultation," she corrected Adon with a teasing smile, raising it to take a sip.  "Whether or not you acquire my services depends on how good the dinner is.  Although," she added, tilting the wine glass slightly in his direction, "based on the quality of the wine and the look of the appetizer, I suppose you are on the right track so far."

"And so," she said, with a long-suffering sigh as she returned the glass to the table, "I will be courteous and let you pick.  Business first, or shall we catch up?"  She pointed her fork in his direction, held it there for a moment before lowering it to her plate.  "Aside from a string of titles and a vague date, I haven't a hint of what you've been up to, segen mishne.  The last I heard, you were settled in Jerusalem.  What brought you back to England?"

"Yeh? A cutting figure?" Adon asked with a quirked eyebrow. "What's he cutting these days, gillyweed? Or is he daring enough to try for mandrake roots?"  There was next to no chance she was exchanging weekly letters with anyone--he figured. She'd probably be afraid that made her too accessible.  Still, Adon was curious who she'd been spending most of her time with.

She was right: it probably wasn't "kind old friends." "Kind" really wasn't where her interest lay. She instead seemed to prefer getting into difficult situations with the likes of goblins-- Adon reached for his wine glass again. Not that he was getting worked up. It was just...upsetting.

Not that he really had a right to be.  And if he acted like he did, Raizel'd be off like a shot. "Interested" was also not where her interest lay.  Business or catch-up, first. Raising his eyebrows contemplatively as she spoke, he took a sip.

Eyes glinting, he smirked. "Business.  I've got an awful habit of mixing it with pleasure that I should probably quit. Let's get business out of the way, first." He looked at her challengingly a moment--not sure if the statement had been intended to be as bold as it sounded (or was it the other way around), but hoping he liked the effect.

Reaching down for his fork, he took the first bite of the pasta, smiling to himself. This was a good restaurant.  He'd have to thank Dree's foodie friend later. "Since this is just a consultation," he said with a teasing air of condescention, "I can dispense with any specific details--I don't give those out lightly; only to people who would have a committment to the task at hand.  It's an Egyptian curse. And it causes magiclessness." He prsedd his lips together. It felt odd, to maintain this teasing tone when talking about a point of grave concern for at least four months. "You have until the next course to impress me. What would you look into first, what would be required, what you have encountered that is similar--that sort of thing." Another characteristic smirk.

The Cursebreaker gave a laugh, not looking at all intimidated by the vocalized challenge as she flashed him a genuine smile.  "You're the one who's buying me dinner, Adon," she pointed out nicely, inclining her head to the plate in front of her.  "I don't think that I'm the one trying to impress."

Apparently she'd stumbled on to the game plan for the evening -- Adon would seize upon the opposite of whatever she suggested, doing his best to maintain control of the conversation.  Whether the Auror was intentionally trying to be contrary or was just reverting to his onetime teenaged habits, she couldn't tell.  In the long run, it didn't really matter; she'd come because of the business, after all.  If he wanted to get through it quickly, then this wouldn't need to take as long.

"Yes, a curse," she said, regarding him seriously as she settled in to eat.  "Caused by an artifact, you said.  And it causes magiclessness?"  Raizel frowned at him.  Debilitating diseases, blindness or deafness, plagues of locusts, perpetual bad luck -- those were the usual effects of curses. "Your friend is a mage, and she cannot cast spells?

Impressing Adon Eleor was not her goal for the evening, but the situation was intriguing all the same.  "I would need to know more about the curse," Raizel said matter-of-factly, arching her eyebrows at him in her own silent challenge.  "If it is authentic to the object -- if it were cast in ancient times, and is not a more recent addition," she clarified, "then the object itself might give us useful hints.  When it was made -- curses go in and out of fashion -- and what its intended purpose was.  A ring meant to assassinate a Pharaoh would hold a very different curse than something made to protect against tomb raiders."

That raised a whole host of other questions.  Aurors came into contact with any number of curses, but ancient ones were more rare -- they generally didn't deal in illegal artifact trade.  "How did your friend first get cursed?  Was it contact-based or ambient?  Has she noticed any other effects?"  She regarded him gravely, her brows knitting. "Curses can degenerate very quickly, Adon, and an ancient spell that has lasted this long is going to be very potent," she said seriously, her tone vaguely bordering on the pedantic. "If this happened recently, it is important to deal with it quickly before the magic can take hold."

Adon wanted to call to attention that it wasn't he that had wanted to go to dinner with Adon Eleor so damn bad. But that wouldn't get him where he wanted to be--even if it would have shut down her banter. It probably would have, because it was pretty good. Since he could not test the comeback out, he could only assume.


"Your friend is a mage, and she cannot cast spells?"

"No--nothing," Adon said. "Can't even see Hogwarts, in fact. Has trouble getting into places that most mages can... It's been going on a little over six months," Adon said gravely. "Actually, before we'd even met."


He frowned as he stirred the pasta a bit with his fork to distribute the seasoning evenly before taking a bite. The goal was to get a good feeling for what Raizel--or a cursebreaker--would have to offer to this, to provide as little information about the dagger as possible, and at all costs to keep Jonas' identity safe.  A magic-less Auror on a dangerous case was a sitting duck.  Jonas was already somewhat alienated, living in the Muggle world.  Making that fact known was foolish.  Raizel had hastily assumed his friend to be female; certainly not the case, and would be detrimental to any further flirtations this evening, but it was the perfect identity concealer.  He exhaled through his nose as he chewed.


"And we don't even have the artifact. Just a sketch of it. My friend--she had it at one point, but it was taken back; again, before we even met. But not before actual contact. There are..." Adon felt ill at ease and cleared his throat, "no other real symptoms. But I've been concerned because my friend did mention that she supposed the curse was meant to sap one's vitality. While  I don't know the foundation for that assumption, it does sound like the effects could be further reaching though I have a kind healer-friend who has reason to believe that the magiclessness could not go so far as to kill a mage..." Still Adon felt a bit green just thinking about it.


He sighed, putting his fork down in order to rub his temples wearily. After a moment, he glanced back to her, chin resting on a cupped hand. "So, Miss Mystery-traveler: have you ever come into contact with a cult? The Cult of the Phoenix? Do they do these sorts of things? That would mean it was curse of modern origin, correct?"

"The Cult of the Phoenix?" Raizel echoed, watching him with a frown.  "No, they were an ancient group -- there have been one or two excavations of their burial sites, but little is known about them, other than that they were secretive and not pleasant.  The first archaeologist who studied their ruins was killed during the dig, I think..."

That did, though, put some of this into context.  She studied the Auror across the table thoughtfully, ticking through the points in her head.  There had been an excavation the summer before that had ended badly; she could remember reading an article about it almost a year before.  It had been a British-run dig -- word had quietly spread that they'd hired a Cursebreaker, which Gringotts had not been happy about.  At the very least, it explained how a mage in England had become the victim of an Egyptian curse.

"If that is the true origin of the curse, I would be careful," Raizel said slowly.  "Their curses are known to be volatile around other magics, and there have been stories about the men on those digs going insane or dying suddenly.  Six months is a long time, so perhaps your friend will be all right -- but if this curse has been sapping her magic and suddenly the magic runs out, it could very well begin to take something else.  If she seems suddenly tired -- or drained --"

It was a realistic assessment, but not a pleasant one.  Even if she hadn't seen Adon Eleor in ten years, she would have had to be deaf and blind not to be able to read his body language.  Raizel sighed, regarding him for the briefest of moments, and then tossed her hair back.

"Do you want me to look at her?" she asked, as gently as she could.  "I wouldn't do anything that might hurt her without asking you, Adon.  Her, too.  And I might be able to tell more about the curse up close."  She gave him a faint smile, watching his eyes.  "I think I can do a favor for an old school friend without it becoming business."