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Chapter Text

Harry Potter sat at his desk staring at the random artifact his partner had just set down in front of him. "What is it?" he asked in confusion.

His partner shrugged and drawled, "I have no idea. Shacklebolt wants a full report by Monday, though."

"So much for my weekend," Harry muttered.

"Got big plans, Potter? Maybe bedding the weaslette?"

"Don't call her that, Malfoy."

Draco smirked. "Maybe if you'd marry her, she'd be more willing to lift her skirt."

"Maybe I don't want to marry her."

"Why ever not?"

"Malfoy! Potter!" They both turned toward the door, where a large black man was standing and observing them. "Stop bickering like an old married couple and get to work!"

"I am not old." Draco huffed.

"Yes, Kingsley," Harry sighed. "What are we supposed to do with this thing?"

"Figure out what it is and what it does, by Monday."

"It's Friday afternoon. Do you know anything at all about it?"

"The script on it might be Semitic."

"Is that a language?" Draco asked.

Kingsley Shacklebolt silently handed him a large tome. When he merely lifted an eyebrow, Shacklebolt sighed. "It's a universal translator, Malfoy. Copy the script exactly onto a page. The opposing page will display any possible languages and what it means in those languages. Once you've done that, figure out the probable language and search for relevant myths and legends recorded in it. I trust Hogwarts taught you how to research."

Draco glared. "Do not patronize me."

Shacklebolt ignored him. "Enjoy your weekend, boys, and do try not to kill each other."

They heard someone down the corridor shout, "But feel free to shag each other!" before the door clicked shut.

Draco set down the book and picked up the object again. It was made of some kind of hard wood, whether natural or spelled he did not know. The wood was yellowish in color, each band separated by thin, dark lines. The object was shaped roughly like a box with poles sticking out the two ends. What he presumed was the top looked as if something had once been attached, but had broken off. The long sides were covered in small script that looked like random lines to Draco. They could have been Arabic, he supposed. In conclusion, he said, "It's ugly, whatever it is."

"Give it here," Harry said, finally.

"I'm studying it."

"I'll give it back in a minute. I want to start deciphering the script." Reluctantly, Draco handed it over and watched as Harry pressed a paper to the side, then ran a bit of coal over it. When he pulled the paper away, there was an approximation of the script on it. He handed the object back to Draco, then began copying the script into the book.

After several minutes and false starts, he read aloud,

"'Ge'ez,' whatever that means.

"'It is written: I will keep the covenant with whomever has faith in me, even as Ibrahim who bound his only beloved son before me and waited with reverence, the sacrificial blade in hand. I will bestow on-'"

"What are you reading, Potter? Some guy bragging about killing his follower's son?"

"I don't know. Ibrahim sounds vaguely familiar."

"Never heard of him."

Harry wrote a hurried letter and stood. "I'll be back in a while."

Draco read over the rest of the translation in Harry's absence. It frightened him. In his mind, the speaker was the Dark Lord, bragging about someone, possibly his own father, handing his sole child over to him to die in some twisted ceremony. Draco was only vaguely aware of slipping to the floor as he recalled the pain of taking the Dark Mark, of being forced to bind himself to his father's master. He remembered vividly the certainty he had felt at the thought of being tortured and murdered. He had fully believed he would not survive the war.

Harry returned to find Draco sitting on the floor, leaning against his desk and shivering. "Draco? Are you okay?" Harry crouched beside him and forced the object from his fingers, then picked up the book from the floor and set them both on the desk. He turned back to Draco and took in his pained look and tear-stained face. Gently, he pulled the upset man against him. "Tell me what's wrong, Draco."

"The words ..."

"The translation?"

Draco nodded silently. After a long silence, he added, "The Dark Lord."

Harry read the translation, a description first of a man handing his son's life to a powerful ruler, presumeably, then a couple lines about the ruler delivering his followers from those who would corrupt and destroy them. He stared for a long time, wondering if the author had been or had served an earlier dark lord. He understood why Draco was upset. His own father had handed him to Voldemort. He hugged Draco again. "Bad memories?" Draco nodded. "Want to talk about them?"

"You're not my shrink, Potter."

"No, but I am your friend. When you're ready to talk, I'll listen."

Draco struggled shakily out of Harry's arms. "We should finish the translations."

"You still look a bit out of sorts. Want some tea or something?"

"I'm fine, Potter."

Harry stood and returned to his desk. He worked diligently on the translations, wondering why the names seemed so familiar. House of Ibrahim ... where had he heard that before?

Draco had left, most likely to wash up and compose himself. He returned about half an hour later, a message in one hand and two books in the other. "Feeling better?" Harry asked.

Draco ignored the question and handed Harry the message. "This just came for you. I picked up a couple books on ancient languages."

Harry opened the message and read it silently. He looked up at Draco. "Could you fetch me a copy of the Bible?"

"That Muggle religious book?"

"Yes, the Christian one, any version. Hermione says she thinks Ibrahim may be the same as Abraham. The story of Abraham sacrificing his son is in the Book of Genesis in the Old Testament. I want to read it."

Draco set down the books he was holding, then swept out of the room, quietly grumbling about Muggle barbarism.

Harry smiled weakly at his back. Draco amused him, but this task had genuinely unsettled the blonde. Harry would be glad when Monday was over.

Draco brought both the Bible and a pot of tea with him when he returned. As he poured some tea for each of them, he asked, "Find anything new?"

"Yeah, after bragging about the loyalty of Ibrahim, the writer describes his loyal follower Elias who killed his enemies and converted others to his side by calling fire from the heavens. Apparently Elias was also compassionate, as he brought a boy back to life once. I think he was a wizard."

"How can you bring someone back to life?"

"He did it by stretching himself upon the boy in his own bed, it says." Draco paled and the book of Semitic languages slipped from his fingers. "Draco? Are you alright?"

Draco sat down slowly, still shaking. "He raped him."

"What do you mean?"

"In the war, some of the first-generation Death Eaters enjoyed ... tying us down and ..." Draco's voice cracked and he stopped. Harry stood and moved to his side. Draco clung to him, shaking silently.

"They raped you," Harry whispered as he hugged the blonde. Draco nodded. Harry hated Kingsley in that moment for giving them such a horrible project. At last, he said, "Let me bring you home. We can finish tomorrow."

Draco nodded weakly, but when they reached Draco's house, he refused to release Harry. "Stay with me. The nightmares ..."

"I'm here, Draco. I'll stay as long as you need me."

Chapter Text

The next morning, Harry was surprised to find Draco in his arms when he awoke. He lay still for a while and pieced together the events of the previous day. Part of him wanted to return to work alone and let Draco sleep, but part of him worried that Draco would panic if Harry was gone when he awoke. Perhaps he could write a letter to Shacklebolt and have the project reassigned.

Harry was reading the Weekend Prophet an hour later when Draco entered the kitchen. "You stayed."

"I was worried. You rarely ever break down, and never multiple times in under twenty-four hours."

"That ... thing ... is getting to me. It's bringing back memories I'd rather forget. I thought I had forgotten."

"I'm sorry, Draco."

"What they did to us," Draco whispered as he poured himself some tea, "wasn't your fault. At least, on my stomach I couldn't see ... but sometimes ... I saw what they did to Theo, the time they ... the way he screamed and bled and there was nothing I could do.... It was horrible, Harry. It was horrible watching Theo's father drag him to the Dark Lord. He fought so hard, and the knife Nott held to his throat, and I couldn't do anything ... I felt so helpless ..."

"Was that when Theo died?" Harry asked quietly.

"No, but he wanted to. They tortured him and he ... he begged to die. He broke that night, never questioned, never resisted, when they sent him on a mission we all knew he wouldn't survive. I want to believe he had chosen to die on that mission, but really, I think he was already dead inside."

"Draco, I'm sorry."

"I can't ..."

"You can't what?" Harry's voice was still gentle.

"Don't make me go back."

"I won't. Stay home today, or visit with friends. I'll finish the translations on my own."

---

Harry returned alone to the Ministry. The corridors in the Department of Mysteries were completely silent, as he had expected. Few people would be at work at eight o'clock on a Saturday morning. He settled in at his desk and resumed translating the text. There was only a little bit left. It described the reward for Elias for his devotion - to ascend to his lord's home in a chariot of fire.

That done, he turned to the Bible and made notes on the story of Abraham's sacrifice of Isaac from the Book of Genesis. The Dursleys were Christian, at least by name, and when Harry was very young, they had brought him with them to church. Back then, the stories had held no meaning for him. He had no opinion of the Dursleys' religion beyond that some members of their church were much kinder than they themselves. Hermione, he knew, had been raised Christian and her family was nice.

He read the passage again through Draco's eyes. What would Isaac have felt at nearly being murdered to appease his father's god? To much like being Dumbledore's weapon, probably. Setting aside his own memories of the war, he searched the Bible for references of Elias, but all he found were mentions in the Gospels of a prophet as well-known as Moses.

Harry read a bit more about Moses in the Bible, then in some books on comparative religions. In both, he found references to the Ark of the Covenant, which he thought was a physical manifestation of the covenant God made with Abraham to protect his descendants. Harry suspected the verse about Abraham sacrificing his son was referring to the covenant.

One book had a drawing of the Ark's appearance and a description of its make. He studied it for a long time, the object resting beside it. The object could easily represent the Ark, with the broken part on top being where the angels had once knelt. The accompanying text described shittah wood, which most likely referred to one of several acacias common in the Middle East and parts of Africa. The commonly accepted species had soft yellow wood striated with dark lines, just like the object.

Harry jumped up to write letters to his friends Neville Longbottom and Professor Sprout, then searched for information on Ge'ez, which, he discovered in the book Draco had found on Semitic languages, was an ancient language of Ethiopia and the precursor to Amharic, Ethiopia's national language. Furthermore, Ge'ez was still used in the Ethiopian Orthodox religion. Harry had just started searching through a book on Ethiopian Orthodoxy for references to Elias when he heard someone outside the door. He looked up to see Draco smirking at him.

"Learn anything new?"

"Lots. How was your day?"

Draco shrugged. "I visited with my goddaughter and her brother. They're learning how to fly, but Pansy won't get them anything better than second-hand Cleansweeps, so they're struggling a bit. I brought supper."

"How late is it?" Harry turned to the clock. "Nearly nine and I haven't had lunch yet? Wow."

"Come eat and tell me what you found."

They settled down by the rebuilt Fountain of Magical Brethren in the deserted atrium and ate a casserole cooked by one of Draco's house elves. Over dessert, they discussed the Ark of the Covenant and Jewish history. Neither one knew much of anything about Ethiopia. As Draco cleaned up, Harry tossed a galleon into the fountain.

Back in their office, Draco looked over Harry's notes and compared the artifact to the drawing and description of the Ark. "I think you're right, but right now I'm tired. Let's head home and sleep on it."

"Do you want me to escort you again?" Draco hesitated a moment too long. "Come on, I'll help carry the dishes."

Chapter Text

Harry woke the next morning to find an irate Ginny sitting on his bed. "Where have you been?"

"When?" Harry asked incoherently.

"I've been trying to fire call you since Friday. George's party is tonight and you're my date!"

"I'm sorry Ginny, I completely forgot. Work's been busy and Draco-"

"Can take care of himself, and the work. It's Sunday, now get up and join me for breakfast."

"Ginny, I have to go to work today. I promised Draco-"

"Are you Malfoy's boyfriend or mine? You promised me a month ago you'd bring me to this party."

"And I will, but right now I have to go. Now let me leave so I can be home in time."

"Fine! Go bugger your precious Malfoy! I'm leaving." With that, she stormed out and slammed the door. Harry just stared after her, wondering what on earth had gotten into her.

He stood and wrote a letter to Draco apologizing for being late, then fire called Hermione, who invited him over. "What's wrong?" she asked the moment he arrived.

"Life. Why's Ginny so angry with me?"

"She's tired of waiting, mate," Ron said from the couch where he and their daughter, Rose, were playing with a plush hippogriff.

"Waiting for what?"

"For you to ask her to marry you," Hermione said patiently.

"I don't want to ask her to marry me."

"Why not?" Ron asked.

"My job keeps me way too busy and Ginny needs more attention than I can give. She was mad I hadn't been home, but it's pretty common for me to stay at work until Kingsley kicks me out or Draco drags me home. She'd hate being married to me."

"Is Draco dating anyone?" Hermione asked.

Ron snorted, but Harry ignored him. "I don't think so, but then most of my coworkers are single. Why?"

Ron started laughing and said, "Seamus is good friends with Pansy's husband and he swears Pansy said Malfoy has a crush on you."

Harry stared at him incredulously. "What?"

"I'd believe it," Hermione said. "So would Ginny. I think she sees him as a threat to her relationship with you."

"That's ridiculous!" Harry rolled his eyes as he spoke, Draco's description of being raped echoing in his mind. No one could experience that and want sex with another man, even if it was over half a decade ago. To change the subject, he said, "You were right about Abraham."

"I knew it! What are you doing that you need to know Biblical figures?"

"I can't answer that, but I have another question. Who was Elias? I think he was a prophet."

"He was. Try looking under the name Elijah. That's what he was called in the Old Testament. Elias is his Greek name."

"Any idea which book?"

"Kings, I think, or Chronicles. Let me check." Hermione pulled her King James Bible off the shelf, ignoring Ron's comment of "Rubbish, if you ask me," and began to read. "Yes, one and two Kings. There are several stories in each. Here, you can borrow this."

Harry took the book. "Thanks, I should get back to Draco now."

As he tossed some floo powder into the fireplace, he thought he heard Ron mumble, "Sounds like the ferret isn't the only one with a crush."

---

Back at his office, Harry found Draco lying on the couch and reading a book that was larger than "Hogwarts, A History." He perched next to Draco's legs and asked, "Find anything interesting?"

"Just some background on Ethiopian Orthodoxy."

"Anything about Elias?"

"Nothing you didn't already tell me. He's popular in pictures and the Ethiopians seem to regard him very highly. His feast day is next Sunday. He had nothing to do with the Ark of the Covenant that I can find, so I don't understand why that mini-ark thing mentions him."

"Have I gotten any messages?"

"One, from Hogwarts. It's on your desk."

Harry jumped up to fetch it, then contemplated either shoving Draco's legs out of the way or sitting on them before perching as he had before. As he had expected, it was a letter from Professor Sprout. He read it aloud. "Dear Harry, I don't know much about shittah-wood, but here's what I could find on short notice. The Shittah-Tree is commonly believed to be a species of acacia called Vachellia tortilis. Its wood was popular for building among the Hebrew nomads. In Africa it was, maybe still is, used for firewood and feeding animals. It is believed to have several medicinal properties, both healing and mood-altering. It is a very hardy tree. It can withstand a variety of soils, climates, and insect damage. I can send you the details if you need them. Stay well, Harry, and hello to Draco."

"It's 'commonly believed' to be some acacia? They don't know?" Draco asked.

"It was used thousands of years ago, Draco. Cultures and climates change, so how can they know for sure? Anyway, I think the mini-ark - cute name, by the way - is made of shittah wood." Harry picked it up and examined it again, shaking it and running his fingers over it.

"What are you doing?"

"Hypothesizing. If it's a miniature version of the Ark, right down to the same wood, and perhaps originally decorated with the same gold as well, then I'm guessing it's hollow."

"How do you figure that?"

"Moses had the Ark made to hold the stone tablets with the Ten Commandments written on them. So I'm guessing this thing holds a copy of the Ten Commandments, but I can't find a seam."

Draco held out his hand. Harry stared at him, confused. "Give it here, Potter." Harry shrugged and handed over the object. Draco gently ran first the pads of his fingers, then his nails, over the entire surface of the object.

Then he picked up the translations that Harry had copied from the book and began to read the Ge'ez words, which the book had rewritten phonetically in Roman characters. He had just finished the quote about Ibrahim, his voice shaky, when his fingernail caught on the wood. A moment later, the object opened.

Draco squeaked and dropped it in surprise. A bit of metal fell out, which Harry picked up. "It's got more script on it," he said, "Ge'ez, I think."

He sat at his desk and began meticulously copying the script into the tome. Finally, he read over the translation, then handed it to Draco. "The Elias Strand?" Draco asked. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I. See what you can find. I promised Ginny a date tonight."

"Tell her work's keeping you," Draco said disinterestedly.

"I tried. She wouldn't listen."

Draco set the tome on his lap and looked up at Harry. "There's something I don't understand, Potter. If you don't plan to marry her, then why are you leading her on?"

"She wants to date me and it's not like there's anyone I'd rather date."

"Have you told her you don't want to marry her?"

"Are you channeling Hermione? You sound a lot like her right now."

"Answer the question, Potter."

"I've tried, but ... I don't think she listened."

"You're hopeless, Potter. Go play with your weasel."

"Yes, mum." Harry ducked out before Draco could respond.

Draco glared at the now empty doorway. "Bloody Gryffindor." Then he picked up a book on Ethiopian legends and spent the rest of the night comparing it to the translation from the metal plate.

---

Harry enjoyed the party, especially George's demonstration of their latest line of products. His favorites were the Patronus Pearlies, which were a bit like Chocolate Frogs, but they were white chocolate and came in the shape of various famous patroni. George gave Harry a handful of them as a parting gift, promising that at least one was a stag and included a card about one well-known time that he used his patronus. He refused to tell Harry which time.

When Harry was ready to leave, he offered to see Ginny home, but she immediately latched onto him and declared that she would rather go to his house. He was too tired to argue and had to be at work early to finish the bloody report for Shacklebolt, so he agreed reluctantly. Ginny remained blissfully, or more likely willfully, unaware of his reluctance, Harry thought frustratedly.

Harry stumbled through his floo, Ginny still clinging to him, and was surprised to find his lights on and the smell of herbal tea permeating the room. "Finally going to shag her, Potter?" Draco asked from the couch, his expression amused.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Ginny demanded.

"Potter left before we finished work today," Draco sneered over his cup of tea, "so we will be up late writing our report for tomorrow. Would you prefer to shag him before or after we work?"

Ginny glared. "Get lost, Malfoy. No one invited you here."

"I invited me here, but that's beside the point. Potter, I think I know what it's talking about."

"What?" Harry asked. He had sunk to the couch beside Draco, too tired to be fully coherent.

"Can't say," Draco smirked. "It's confidential." He stared pointedly at Ginny, who glared back.

Harry finally looked up. "He's right, Ginny. We have to finish by tomorrow morning and I'm bloody exhausted. See you next weekend?"

"We've been dating continuously for four years, Harry, and off and on for three years before that, but you are constantly putting your work before me and whenever I mention the wedding-"

"Bloody hell, Weasley!" Draco growled. "There is not going to be a bloody wedding. Don't you get it, yet? Potter does not want to marry you!"

"Shove off, Malfoy! I know you're just trying to split us up!"

"Now why the hell would I do that?"

"Because you want to steal him away from me!"

"First, Weasley, he isn't gay," Draco ground out. "Second-"

Harry rested a hand on Draco's leg. "Enough, Draco," he said softly. "I am capable of speaking for myself."

"See," Ginny started, "I-"

"No, Ginny. He's right. I don't want to marry you. I enjoy my job, but it keeps me late very frequently. There's no way I can continue being an Unspeakable and still give you all the time and energy you deserve. I'm sorry, but it won't work."

"Then get another job, Harry. You're a celebrity; you can work anywhere!"

"I can, but I don't want to. I like my job, Ginny. Just ... go home. I have work to do."

"You really are dumping me for Malfoy!"

Harry stood and placed his hands on Ginny's shoulders. "Go home, Ginny. Now," he said steadily.

She glared a moment longer before turning, grabbing a handful of floo powder, and disappearing in a flare of green. Draco sighed audibly when she was gone. "Thank Merlin," he whispered.

Harry turned to Draco. "I'm pissed at you, too! I can't believe you just invited yourself here. How did you get in anyway?"

"My mother's a Black and this house resents you. I asked nicely."

Harry sank down in defeat beside Draco, too tired to deal with pureblood drama. "What did you find?"

Chapter Text

Both Harry and Draco were more asleep than awake when they stumbled into Shacklebolt's office the next morning, report in hand. Shacklebolt waved toward two seats, then took the report from Draco and asked, "What did you find?"

Harry set the wooden object on Shacklebolt's desk, closed, and placed the bit of metal beside it. "We believe this object represents the Ark of the Covenant from Judeo-Christian mythology. A sketch of the original Ark is in the report, page five. On the outside it mentions two separate stories about different biblical figures, Abraham and Elijah, in Ge'ez, an ancient Semitic language. The exact translations and language details are in the report."

"Where did the metal come from?"

Draco took over. "The wooden object opens, sir. Pick it up and read the original Ge'ez words about Ib- er, Abraham, and it will unlock. The metal was inside."

"Interesting. Tell me about the metal."

Harry jumped in. "It's silver, from Ethiopia we believe, and is shaped like one of the tablets that held the Ten Commandments of Moses, the Judeo-Christian hero who originally had the Ark made. The script on it is also in Ge'ez and describes an object called the Elias Strand. Elias is another name for Elijah. The Strand is supposed to have special properties but we aren't sure exactly what they are. The stories of Elijah mentioned summoning rain in a drought, controlling fire, and bringing a child back to life, possibly with dark magic. We think the magic in the Strand may have healing or life-sustaining properties, maybe like the Elixir of Life or, conversely, unicorn blood."

"Do you know where to find it?"

Harry shrugged. "Ethiopia, maybe? Ge'ez is an Ethiopian language and the last purported location of the original Ark, if it still exists, is Aksum in northern Ethiopia."

Shacklebolt sat back and silently read the report as he considered their words. At last, he said, "You will go to Ethiopia and investigate this Elias Strand."

"What?" Harry asked, "When?"

"As soon as I can contact the British consulate in Addis Ababa and arrange a Portkey. Two or three days, I think."

"My birthday's in two weeks!" Harry protested. "How long would we be gone?"

"As long as necessary, Mr Potter," Shacklebolt replied. "I'd guess at least two weeks."

Draco closed his eyes and stifled a yawn. "In that case, I want the next few days off to pack ... and sleep."

Harry also wanted sleep, but was too angry to reply to Draco. He turned on Shacklebolt. "Can't it wait until after my birthday? I promised Ron-"

Shacklebolt did not look amused, either. "You leave this week, Mr Potter. You will need to spend the next two days reading up on Ethiopian language and culture and learning spells that will help you assimilate when you arrive. That means, Mr Malfoy, eating their food, worshipping their gods, wearing their clothes, and doing something to darken your appearance."

Draco winced. He looked mortified. "I like my robes and food and ..." Draco fumbled, then clutched at his ponytail. "... and my blonde hair! I don't want to darken it! Or shorten it!"

Harry sighed in defeat. "It's only for a little while, Draco," he snapped. "Though you are acting like a stereotypical blonde right now."

"And that would be?"

"Muggles say blondes are shallow and stupid and only concerned with appearances."

"But appearance is important!"

"I rest my case."

"Appearance is important, Mr Potter," Shacklebolt said. "You will make sure on arrival that you create a suitable persona that will encourage the right locals to talk while not drawing undesirable attention. Good day, gentlemen."

Draco stalked out with his head held high. Harry slammed Shacklebolt's door behind them. The moment they reached their office, Draco transfigured the couch into a bed and they both fell asleep, heedless of their coworkers' whispers that, "Really, they're wearing too many clothes for sleeping together," and "What, not even a goodnight kiss?" Nonetheless, no one attempted to wake them until well after lunch.

Chapter Text

Two exhausting days later, Harry and Draco met at the Office of International Relations. The attendant handed them a muggle book on backpacking in Ethiopia and said, "This portkey will work only once and will take you to the British Consulate in Addis Ababa. When you are ready to leave, the keyword is Selassie."

"Better than Ras Tafari, I suppose," Harry said and Draco smirked at the alternate name for Ethiopia's last emperor, Haile Selassie.

When Harry did nothing more than flip tiredly through the pages, Draco took his hand and the book and said, "Let's go, Potter. Selassie."

The familiar tug was as disconcerting as always, but felt no different than usual despite the long distance. They landed, or in Harry's case stumbled and fell, in a small, whitewashed, nondescript office. A cheery voice greeted them. "Welcome, Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy. Would you like some coffee?"

"Coffee? What's bloody wrong with proper tea?" Draco asked.

"Nothing, of course, but in Ethiopia everyone drinks coffee, strong, black, and freshly roasted and ground. It's really very good. Try some."

Harry sat in a chair opposite the man's desk and took a cup. "I'll have some and I apologize for my companion. We haven't slept in days and he gets crabby when he's tired."

Draco glowered at him before following suit. Before taking a sip, though, he raised his wand and transfigured the coffee into tea, complete with milk and sugar. Then he sat back, contented. "What now?" he asked no one in particular.

The man behind the desk said, "My name is Yohan Saxton. I am your primary contact during your stay in Ethiopia. While in Addis, you will stay at the Hilton Hotel. It's a bit fancy for your purpose, but while you are in the capital, it should not matter too much. I have also arranged meetings for you with curators at the major museums and a guide for the Mercato. I have told them you are professors from the University of York and are doing research for a folklore project."

"What's a mercato?" Draco asked.

"Mercato is the largest open-air market in eastern Africa and will be a useful place to speak with the locals. I personally find it even more fascinating than Diagon Alley, though that may be because it is nearly all muggle."

"I'll stay at the hotel that day. Harry, you go mingle with the local muggles."

Harry ignored him to say, "That sounds great, Yohan. Could we get a ride to the hotel?"

Yohan called a taxi to their hotel, where they slept until late the next morning.

Chapter Text

Harry awoke first and was surprised at how green the grounds outside appeared. His memory of the taxi ride the previous evening was blurry, but he thought there had been more brown. He called room service to order breakfast, then gazed at the flowers and palms in the gardens below their window.

Draco awoke when the attendant knocked on the door. Harry ignored him in favor of the continental breakfast the attendant delivered, which included tea at his request.

After eating, they called a taxi for a ride to the National Museum on King George Street to meet with one of the curators, Mr Kereyu. Harry stared quietly out the taxi window. He felt astonished that the area around the Hilton Hotel was so green and beautiful, but just outside its walls, everything was brown and dry. A thin haze hung in the air and several times he tried to clean his glasses, but his vision resolutely remained blurry. Draco said nothing, but looked sullen. At last they pulled up to the museum. A few children outside were exploring the statues in the garden nearby and across the street, people in rags huddled under the trees.

Inside, Harry found the office first, poorly labeled off a hallway to the left. Mr Kereyu greeted them with a handshake and motioned for them to sit. He inquired after their well-being, journey, and purpose for visiting, which Harry answered patiently while Draco fidgeted. At last, Mr Kereyu stood. "Would you prefer tea or coffee?"

"Tea, thank you," Harry said.

"Mr Malfoy?"

Draco tensed before replying politely, "I'll have tea as well."

"I will return shortly. You may begin looking at these." He handed Harry a stack of books and a few folders, then stepped out.

Draco flicked his wand to close the door, then cast a complicated spell on each book and folder. Harry gathered the ones that glowed. When he had finished, Harry handed him a folder and asked, "What did you search for?"

"'Elias Strand' and some equivalents. I replaced Elias with Elijah and strand with chain, necklace, and cord." Draco eyed the pile in Harry's hand as he tucked away his wand. "Well, it's smaller, anyway."

Over the next ten minutes, they weeded out most of the sources. Three books and a folder remained when Mr Kereyu returned with a tray containing a pot of black tea without milk. Harry thanked him politely and glared pointedly at Draco, who scowled, but held his tongue.

At last, Mr Kereyu asked what exactly they were looking for. "We found an obscure reference to an object called an Elias Strand in an unpublished journal of a British ethnographer who studied here in the 1950s. We believe he was talking about some kind of religious artifact, jewelry perhaps."

"I have never heard of any artifact connected with the prophet Elias. Are you quite certain that it was a religious story?"

"What do you mean?"

"Ethiopia is rich in folkloric tradition, as I am sure you know. Elias especially has become the subject of a wealth of folklore. I know little about the folklore about Elias outside of the religious texts, myself. Have you visited the Ethnological Museum yet?"

"Not yet. We have an appointment tomorrow with Mr Alemayehu."

"Excellent. You will find him most helpful."

"Thank you for your assistance." The two wizards signed out the materials they wanted to review, took their leave, and followed Mr Kereyu's instructions to a nearby restaurant with a local bookstore next door. The food was western - hamburgers, fish and chips, pie for dessert, and Draco enjoyed the familiar food. Harry felt indifferent about the food. He was just glad that Draco had stopped scowling for a little while.

After lunch, they explored the bookstore. To Harry's disappointment, the religious books were all about either philosophy or theology and the folklore books were all written for children. Not even the theology books contained anything useful.

---

After lunch, Harry suggested walking along Entoto Avenue to the Shiromeda Market. Draco protested that they should take a taxi, but when Harry kept walking, he was quick to follow, mumbling under his breath about suicidal Gryffindors. Harry laughed.

Harry enjoyed the walk immensely. He was sad to see the beggars along the street, especially the emaciated women in tattered clothes with young children on their laps, but Hermione had drilled into his head years ago that he must never give money to beggars. Silently, he decided before he and Draco left the market, he would buy some food to hand out to them. Draco, he noticed, walked with his head high, as if he did not even notice the beggars.

The streets were brown and dirty and even the trees that lined the road seemed wrapped in a layer of grime. As they passed a crowd of small trucks whose drivers shouted, "Mercato! Get in! Mercato," he noticed that the grass and trees had been replaced by hard dirt and concrete. Up ahead to the right, he saw a concrete fortress that stretched some distance along the road, with barricades and armed guards out front.

"What the hell is that place?" Draco asked.

Harry consulted his map. "I think it's the American embassy. That's the only major landmark before the clothing market."

"Wow, they must be paranoid. I bet the place is like a dungeon inside, cold and unwelcoming."

Harry shrugged. He barely paid attention to British embassies and had no interest in American ones. When they reached the edge of the barricade, a guard told them unkindly to cross the street before continuing their walk. When Harry started to protest, the man brandished his gun. Draco reached for his wand, but Harry grabbed his wrist and dragged him across the street with a whispered, "Don't. It isn't worth it."

Safely out of the guard's earshot, Draco asked, "Can the Americans really do that? Just monopolize the whole road like it's theirs?"

"It looks that way. Let's just avoid them on the way back."

In less than five minutes, they reached a part of the road with a small row of shops on the right and several small trucks on the left. As before, people stood outside the trucks, shouting, "Mercato! Piazza," and other locations that Harry did not recognize.

Just past the shops, a dirt road led to the right. Harry followed it, leaving Draco to join him in his own time. Several more wood-walled shops lined the right and off to the left, Harry saw some low buildings with beautiful dresses out front. He started toward them, trying to decide what Ginny would like best.

At the first shop, Harry found a two-piece dress that looked to be made of gauze, but that was not what caught his eye. All around the neck, waist, and hem were rows upon rows of beads in colorful geometric patterns. While he could not imagine Ginny ever wearing such a thing, he appreciated the effort that must have gone into the beadwork. Draco finally caught up to him there.

"Cross-dressing, Potter?"

"You wish. No, I'm just admiring the local handiwork."

"Planning to buy it for the Weaslette?"

Harry smiled and shook his head. "I don't think she'd appreciate it. Parvati would love it, though. Too bad we're no longer in touch."

"Have you found the men's clothes?"

"Not yet. I'm sure someone inside will know."

Harry started toward the shop. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draco run his fingers through the beaded fringe of one of the dresses he had admired earlier. Draco looked almost wistful.

Inside the shop, Harry realized first that it was much smaller than he had expected, maybe eight by fifteen feet altogether. The shop was fully stocked, with clothes hanging several layers thick from every available space on the wall and glass-fronted shelves piled high with skullcaps, veils, and blankets. He stared for over a minute before registering that the clerk was speaking to him.

"Can I help you, sir?" The clerk's English was perfectly enunciated and Harry thought he may speak it better than some people in England - Dudley, for example.

"Er, yeah." The clerk frowned at him in confusion. "I mean, my friend and I are looking for some traditional men's clothes - robes, if you have them."

"Of course. Robes, skullcaps, turbans, and socks. Everything you need for a full outfit." As he spoke, he led Harry to the far wall, where Harry saw a very large selection of robes, all white or off-white and some with embroidered cuffs and collars. He pulled an embroidered robe from the wall. "I think this one will fit you nicely."

Harry took it and held it up to his chest. "It seems a bit long."

"I can take up the hem, free of charge."

Harry glanced around the shop and saw a sewing machine behind the counter. He was not sure how he had failed to notice it earlier. "Oh. Actually, I like the plain ones better. Do you have one of those in my size?"

"Of course, sir. Is this what you want?"

The robe he held out was off-white and a bit shorter. Harry thought it looked perfect and stepped behind the curtain in the far corner of the room to try it on. By the time he stepped out again to view himself in the mirror, Draco had entered and was looking at the robes.

Draco turned to regard him. "You have no poise, Potter." Harry rolled his eyes and turned back to the mirror.

He asked the clerk, "What accessories would you recommend?"

The clerk finished helping Draco, who also chose a plain off-white robe and took an embroidered one as well, and walked over to the shelves. He fiddled with the keys for a moment before unlocking the glass doors and pulling out some veils. He selected an orange and yellow one. "This is a shamma. Let's see how it looks." He stepped behind Harry and wrapped the veil around his head to create a turban.

Harry liked the look immediately. "I'll take it. You said you have socks as well?"

The clerk brought some over. "Have you bought local shoes yet?" Harry shook his head. "On your way back to the tarmac, you will pass a shop with a red door. Ask for Ahmed and tell him Haile sent you. He will find nice shoes for you."

Harry took the socks and ran his fingers over them. The material was coarse, but a simple comfort charm would fix that. "Thank you."

Draco pushed the curtain aside and joined them at the mirror. "Nice, Potter. I like the turban."

Harry could not tell whether Draco was being serious or sarcastic. "Good, because you're getting one, too."

Draco smirked. "Of course, but I want one that's sedately green, not ... ostentatious."

"Someone got a thesaurus for Christmas."

"Your vocabulary may be plebian, but I see no reason to stoop to your level."

"Except perhaps to make it easier for Haile here to understand us."

Haile was rummaging for a green veil as they spoke. He located a grey-green one with a dark green border and wrapped it around Draco's head. "It is perfect, sir."

Draco scowled at himself in the mirror. "I look washed out."

"We'll be in the desert, Draco. Everything will be washed out. Remember Kingsley's order to at least attempt to fit in."

Draco finally settled on two outfits, one "washed out" and the other bright, and persuaded Harry to do the same. Draco haggled for some time over the prices before finally agreeing to thirty pounds, or rather the birr equivalent, for each full outfit. The clerk packed them expertly and handed Harry the bag, which Harry surreptitiously slipped into his too-small knapsack while Draco paid.

Next, they stopped at Ahmed's shop to look at shoes and they each found an acceptable pair of sandals. Harry was glad that being able to do magic included altering shoe sizes, because he did not like any of the sandals in his size. Draco haggled once again and Harry felt slightly guilty paying only half the original asking price. Draco's self-satisfied smirk suggested that he did not feel guilty at all.

From there, they headed to the vegetable market across the tarmac. Draco gravitated immediately toward the barrels full of spices and Harry followed at a distance. He recognized the scents of cinnamon, cloves, and some kind of chili. Draco was scooping a few spices from each barrel to smell before putting them back. "Isn't this wonderful, Potter?"

"You can get spices in London."

"Not like this, whole and in bulk and fresher than anything in England. We must come back here before we leave. I plan to restock my whole kitchen."

Harry left Draco with the spice sellers, who were all trying to persuade him that their spices were really much better than their neighbors'. To Harry, one barrel of whole cloves looked and smelled exactly like another, but Draco was testing each barrel and making critical comments as he moved from one seller to the next.

Harry turned his attention to the fruit and vegetable sellers at the other end of the paved lot. They could not cook in their room, but salad was possible with a few decontamination spells. He picked out some greens that looked dark and nutrient-rich and bought tomatoes, onions, and carrots to serve with them. From the fruit sellers, he got two different kinds of bananas, oranges, and guavas. He had planned to buy mangoes as well, but the mangoes all felt mushy and one seller informed him the mango season was nearly over.

It was dusk when Harry finally managed to drag Draco away from the spices with a promise that, yes, he would have time to buy some before they returned to England. They wandered into the residential area nearby with its stone one- and two-story buildings built up against each other along the narrow, winding dirt paths that served as streets.

When they reached a deserted alley between two buildings, they apparated directly to their hotel room, where Draco surprised Harry by thanking him for buying food they could eat in the room.

Over dinner, Draco asked, "What did you do to piss off Shacklebolt?"

"Nothing, to my knowledge. Why?"

"I don't see why this trip couldn't have waited until after your birthday, unless something else is going on."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe he's still mad I became an unspeakable? He switched departments after the war, I think to escape the trauma from being an auror. Everyone had thought I'd be an auror, including him. I think seeing me every day is hard for him. Have you noticed he's more testy when he has to acknowledge me?"

"I hadn't. Until Monday I'd always assumed his testiness was because of me."

"Nah, he originally paired us up to torture me, though. I think he was trying to get me to quit."

Draco laughed. "I had wondered why he didn't assign me to Boot."

"Terry would've refused. I didn't care who my partner was as long as I was doing something new and away from the public. I was so tired of being in the news all the time, and now Ginny wants to drag me back into that. Ugh!"

"Happy you dumped her?"

"I don't know. I feel a lot less stressed now, though."

Chapter Text

Harry and Draco took a taxi to the university and wandered the grounds for a bit before their appointment at the Ethnological Museum. The gardens and fountains on the grounds were beautiful and well maintained. The students who milled about were smartly dressed, which cheered Draco greatly. More than once, he suggested that Harry should learn some fashion sense from them. In response, Harry suggested that Draco find himself an Ethiopian girlfriend, which earned him a barb about Ginny.

They found some students who agreed to lead them to the museum in exchange for practicing their English. Harry enjoyed asking questions about the city and what education was like in Ethiopia. One student, Ajani, informed Harry, "I have an aunt in Bahar Dar, my mother's sister. You should look her up if you visit." Ajani wrote her contact information in Harry's notebook.

When they reached the museum, Draco darted indoors, citing susceptibility to heat and the ubiquitous dust that made everything outside appear dingy. At nine o'clock, they checked in for their appointment. The man at the information desk told them that Mr Alemayehu was not in yet, but would arrive shortly. They sat to wait and Draco proceeded to ask every five minutes when the folklorist would be in. Harry spent the time skimming the texts they had borrowed from the National Museum.

At ten o'clock, the harried desk attendant suggested with some exasperation that they explore the museum until Mr Alemayehu arrived. Draco reluctantly allowed Harry to drag him off to an exhibit about ceremonial music. Harry enjoyed looking at the instruments, especially the stringed ones, and listening to the samples of music that the museum supplied. Draco followed reluctantly and did his best to ignore both Harry and the other patrons.

Harry's favorite instrument was the begena. It appealed to him for two reasons: first, it sounded pretty and second, it was said to be Biblical in origin. When he mentioned that to Draco, Draco said, "So what? It was supposed to belong to someone named David, who is neither Elias nor Ibrahim."

The most confusing instrument for Harry was the masenko. According to the description, it was quite popular, but a fiddle with only one string and a bow to play it made no sense to Harry and the music samples did not sound very good, either.

From the music exhibit, they wound their way through stone carvings, lifestyles, and ceremonies. Draco stopped abruptly before one exhibit, a series of photographs from Lake Tana. Harry stopped beside him. "What did you find?"

"Maybe nothing, but the men in these pictures are Ethiopian Orthodox monks. They live in monasteries on the islands in that lake and their monasteries are painted with images of major prophets. The description mentions Elias specifically."

"Think we should visit?"

Draco shrugged. "I think we should ask."

Harry pulled a muggle spiral notebook out of his pocket and wrote down the details. "I wonder if Lake Tana and Aksum are the only two monastic places. I think we should visit all of the important ones."

Draco nodded his agreement and looked around, but nothing else caught his attention. They were just weaving around the display to reach the next exhibit when someone called, "Mr Potter!"

Harry looked up and led Draco toward the man standing near the entrance. He was about their age, Harry guessed, with an immaculate business suit and a briefcase in his hand. He led them through the museum to a room they had missed earlier, which held historic coins and medals, then through a door in the back of that room. The white-walled corridor beyond was as dull as the museum was interesting.

Mr Alemayehu's office was as spotless as his suit. Harry briefly imagined borrowing some house elves from Draco to organize and clean their office, then concluded that Kingsley would probably have a heart attack as a result, and dismissed the idea. He and Draco took seats before the desk and let Mr Alemayehu speak first.

After greetings and small talk, the folklorist finally got to the point. "You mentioned in your letter that you are researching Elias the prophet. Is there anything in particular that you want to know?"

"Yes," Harry said. "An old journal in the university archives mentions a legend about an object called the Elias strand. Have you heard of it?"

"No, I'm afraid not. Was it connected with any other legends?"

"Abraham sacrificing his son, Elias raising a boy from the dead, and the Ark of the Covenant."

Mr Alemayehu sat back. "An odd combination. Do you know what this object represents?"

Harry shrugged. "We thought maybe it is a necklace that would provide health and long life to the wearer or something. Are there any legends about necklaces by other names?"

Mr Alemayehu shook his head. "Not that I can think of, but there are legends that associate Elias with immortality. Scholars note that he has been interpreted as a god, angel, half-angel, priest, and earlier incarnation of St John the Baptist, depending on the cultures and religions of the stories. He has also been conflated with Helios, Al-Khidr, and Moses."

"Please slow down," Harry said as he scribbled notes. "I don't recognize most of those names. Also, I thought Jews were monotheistic."

"They are. However, like many other Middle Eastern cultures, they have old beliefs in spirits and angels. Also, some of the stories arose as the idea of Elias spread to new cultures that already had their own folk heroes. The conflation of Elias and the sun god Helios, for example, is entirely fantastical and likely due purely to similar names and a shared association with fiery chariots. By the time Elias was born, worship of Helios had already largely fallen out of favor."

"I see," Harry said. "Is it worth noting any of the stories about Elias as anything other than human?"

"I do not put any stock in them, but it depends on your research question. Regarding the Ark of the Covenant, you could try asking one of the foremost experts on the Ark, Mr Ankelb. He lives in the old capital of Gondar to the north. Have you visited Ethiopia before?" He wrote as he spoke.

Harry shook his head. "This is our first time."

"Then while you are up north, you must visit Lalibela as well. It is an amazing place."

"How so?"

"That is the place where eleven churches were carved whole from the stone. Some of them are three stories high and all of them are still used. Perhaps the priests and monks who live there will be able to help you."

"We'll look into it. Would you advise going to Lake Tana or Aksum?"

"Of course. You can find lodging and a boat to explore Lake Tana in Bahar Dar. It is a bit touristy, but as long as you are polite, you should have no trouble. Is there anything else?"

"Not just now. We will call if we need further assistance. Thank you."

"Of course. Here is the address and phone number for Mr Ankelb."

The two wizards thanked him and headed over to the library. The library was larger and better stocked than Harry expected and contained surprisingly little dust. Draco took a couple deep breaths as Harry showed their University of York IDs and requested to see the folklore section.

An attendant as smartly dressed as everyone else on campus (except Harry, apparently) introduced herself as Bilen and led them to a section of bookshelves that looked to Harry exactly like every other section. "Folklore is here, Sir. Most books on Ethiopian folklore are on these two shelves. Is there something specific you are looking for?"

"And object called the Elias Strand," Harry said. "We believe it may be connected to the prophet Elias."

Bilen ran her finger over the books and finally pulled one off the shelf. "I have never heard of an Elias strand. This book is about the prophet Elias. It is by a German folklorist who collected many stories about the prophet in Ethiopia. Maybe he mentioned it."

"Thank you. Would it be possible for us to borrow this book for a couple weeks?"

"I will need to ask Mr Tadesse. I have heard sometimes he can arrange special library cards for foreign researchers. Come with me."

As they followed her to an office in the back of the library, Draco said, "Your veil is very pretty, Bilen. Do you know where I could find one like it for my mother?"

Bilen flushed at the compliment. "I bought it in Gondar when I visited for Timkat some years ago. Do you plan to visit Gondar?"

"We may visit next week," Harry replied.

"It is such a lovely city. The city market will have many veils that your mother will like, Sir. You must visit the Royal Enclosure and Fasilides' Bath while you are there, and promise you will ride in a horse-cart."

Harry smiled at her enthusiasm. He glanced at Draco, who had become reticent again. "We'd love to do all those things if we have time," he said.

At a small office, Bilen knocked on the door. "Sir, these gentlemen are from University of York. They inquired about borrowing a book."

"Which book?" the man inside asked.

"The Prophet Elias Through Ethiopian Story, Sir. They asked about something called an Elias strand."

"If stories of it are told in Ethiopia, Dr Voigt will have heard them. I'm Nahome Tadesse. Provide your IDs and I will arrange temporary library cards for you."

---

For lunch, Harry led Draco to a café just off campus. Harry ordered the layered juice and was unsurprised when Draco ordered tea. They both ordered some pastries that looked vaguely French and sat outside to eat.

"That monstrosity is going to give you food poisoning," Draco said.

"Bilen recommended it," Harry replied. "It's called sprice juice and it's delicious."

"What on earth is in it?"

Harry studied his glass with its three layers of juice. As he pointed from top to bottom, he said, "Mango, papaya, avocado. Taste some." Harry offered Draco his spoon, which was about half full of thick mango juice and half thick papaya juice.

Draco recoiled in horror. "Absolutely not. I refuse to die in this horribly dirty country."

Harry shook his head and ate the spoonful. "Your loss. How's the tea?"

"Subpar. At least the pastries are passable."

"You should have gotten the juice."

"Shut up, Potter."

---

Back at the hotel, they read for several hours. After a European dinner in the hotel restaurant, Harry settled down on his bed with a book in one hand and his electronic tablet (bespelled by Hermione to not run out of battery) in the other. Setting down the book, he logged onto the hotel network and logged into his email.

Draco glanced over at him from the desk in the corner. "What are you doing, Potter?"

"Emailing Hermione."

"Whating who?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Emailing. You know, on the internet."

"I do not know."

"Seriously? Do you never leave the wizarding world?"

"Only when I can't avoid it. Show me." Draco vaulted onto Harry's bed and pressed against his shoulder. "It looks like bespelled parchment."

"A bit, I guess, but it isn't magic. When I type on the keyboard, it sends a wireless signal to the tablet, which displays the letter."

Draco pressed a few keys experimentally without looking at them and watched in fascination as the letters appeared on the screen. Then he noticed what Harry had already written. He read aloud, "Dear Hermione, we arrived safely in Addis Ababa. The clothing market was fun until Draco got distracted by the massive burlap sacks of spices. They all looked the same to me, but he was sniffing and tasting each of them like some kind of spice sommelier. Then today he had the gall to claim the juice I bought at one of the local cafes would give me food poisoning!" Draco looked up at Harry. "Do you often complain to Granger about me?"

"At least once a week," Harry said cheerfully. "Now I'd like to finish my letter."

"Absolutely not!" Draco claimed the tablet and keyboard. "How does this thing know the letter is for Granger?"

"I entered her email address at the top." Harry valiantly tried to channel the same patience he (usually) had for little Rose or his godson Teddy. He pointed. "There. H Granger at weas whiz whease dot co dot U K." He personally found the joke shop's website domain ridiculous and had been surprised to learn that its online non-magic shop was popular among muggles.

Draco deleted Harry's entire message and wrote, "Hi Granger, Potter's showing me his email contraption thing. Ethiopia is dirty and boring and their tea is awful. The only good thing so far is that everyone at the university, even the gardener, dressed better than Potter." He looked at Harry. "Now how do I tell this thing to owl it to her?"

"If I tell you will you return my tablet?"

"I want to know what else it can do."

"Later, Draco. We need to finish our notes and I do need to send Hermione a message." Draco stared at him. "Fine. Tap the send button at the bottom with your finger."

Draco obeyed and squeaked when his message vanished. "What happened?"

"It sent, unfortunately. The email program will have saved a copy in the sent folder on the left."

At Harry's direction, Draco opened the sent folder, then his message, to assure himself it had not simply vanished. Then he finally returned Harry's tablet.