The ruins

The night was alive with the soft, twinkling lights of Cairo and the distant hum of Muggles shuffling about, their chatter blending into a muted chorus. The stars above us glistened like fireflies against the inky sky, while the ruins of the Great Witches' Market loomed before us like a colossal, decaying beast. Headmaster Violet stood at the forefront of our group, her wand raised high as she cast a brilliant orb of light over the sprawling ruins.

The market was more massive than I had imagined. It stretched endlessly, its decaying arches and crumbling towers casting long shadows across the sand. Half-broken doors clung stubbornly to their frames, swaying gently in the warm breeze, while faded rags of once-luxurious tents flapped defiantly in the wind. Sand had piled up against the walls, its coarse grains hinting at centuries of abandonment.

Violet turned to us, her sharp gaze piercing through the gloom. "Welcome to the Great Witches' Market of Cairo," she declared, her voice clear and unwavering. "Once a bustling hub of magical commerce, now a haunting reminder of ambition's downfall."

Jenna, with her notebook and quill poised, was already scribbling away. Beside her, Robert listened intently, his eyes scanning the ruins for signs of magical creatures. Abby, Fred, and John remained close to Violet, their expressions a mix of awe and unease.

"The beginning of its end, however, came in the 13th century, during the rise of the Mamluk Sultanate. The Witches' Market thrived under the Mamluks, who valued magical artefacts and potions, and who ensured the market's protection. However, in 1347, the Black Death swept across Egypt, causing widespread devastation." Violet continued, her wand casting eerie shadows on the ancient walls.

"Many magical healers within the market sought to cure the disease, but the strain that struck Cairo was a magical mutation, unlike any plague they had seen before. A sinister Dark Wizard known as Djehuti-al-Massri had conjured it, believing he could control it to become the "Sultan of Death." His ambition turned against him, and he died from the very plague he unleashed. However, the magical nature of the disease cursed the market, causing the magic within its walls to twist and warp."

As if on cue, an ear-splitting roar whipped up the sand and blinded us. A rippling shield quickly blocked the majority, and through the gaps, I discerned a giant golden hand rising from the sand, shimmering in the moonlight. I watched in astonishment as it came down upon a building in the distance. Chunks of stone and earth exploded outwards, smashing into their neighbours before the hand shook and dispersed, receding like the tide into the depths of the dunes that undulated through the ruins like a living organism.

In its wake, a low gust of wind swept through and tousled our robes, rattling the broken doors and sending a shiver down my spine. I glanced at Fred, who nodded grimly, his green eyes scanning the darkness for any lingering curses.

It continued to happen as Violet led us through the winding alleyways of the market, her orb of light illuminating forgotten stalls and shattered archways. She gestured to the remnants of a potion shop, its shelves laden with dusty bottles and cobweb-covered cauldrons. "Rumours of curses and tainted magic spread swiftly, and magical folk feared for their lives. Ordinary non-Maj, too, sensed the danger, as the disease ravaged Cairo. Within weeks, the once-bustling market was abandoned. The few brave witches and wizards who ventured there afterwards reported an eerie silence, and the air itself seemed to carry a toxic, magical miasma," she said.

Though it was clear said miasma had since dispersed, I could distinctly feel the prickle against my skin, and the slight burn in my lungs with each mouthful of air I inhaled.

"Over time, the market crumbled into ruins." Violet swept her hand outwards, "Some legends claim that Djehuti-al-Massri's spirit still haunts the ruins, cursing those who dare to enter." She glanced at us, mirth in her eyes as John shivered and Abby clenched her wand tighter.

We continued our exploration, moving cautiously behind Violet as she explained the history of the market. Jenna eagerly added her own insights, pointing out faded runes etched into the walls and explaining their significance.

"Healers were blamed for failing to stop the plague, resulting in mistrust between different magical professions and a decline in collaborative magical research," Jenna said, her voice tinged with both sadness and wonder.

Percival winced as a door slammed shut, watching warily as it shuddered in place. "weren't they the first to truly delve into Arithmancy? You know, the subject we learn in school." He said, still staring at the door as we walked past.

Jenna smiled and nodded, "that's correct."

"Why did they never rebuild?" I asked. "This seems to be prime real estate, cursed or otherwise. I'm sure something…" I caught something moving from the corner of my eye. "-something could be done to disperse it." I finished absentmindedly, my eyes never leaving the spot on the ground where the shape dissolved into the shadows.

It was Violet who broke my line of sight and drew my attention as she passed by me. "Sadly, fear of magic grew among the non-Maj due to rumours that the plague was an act of witchcraft, leading to increased suspicion and sporadic witch hunts by radical parties." She shook her head and sighed.

"With the mounting distrust and collapse of the Witches' Market, the unity of Egypt's magical society shattered. Many witches and wizards fled to Europe or sought refuge in smaller secluded magical communities within the Middle East."

We passed by a grand archway, its stone weathered and cracked. Violet paused, her gaze lingering on the intricate carvings that adorned the arch. "This was once the entrance to the Guild of Magical Artisans," she said softly. "Their secrets were guarded jealously, and when the market fell, so too did their knowledge. Now, only whispers of their craftsmanship remain."

The guildhall beyond the archway was a shadow of its former self. Sand piled high against the walls, and the shattered remains of enchanted artefacts lay strewn across the floor. Percival nudged a fragment of a crystal ball with his foot, and it crumbled to dust.

"Do you think we'll find any intact artefacts here?" Robert asked, his curiosity piqued.

"It's possible," Violet shrugged, "but tread carefully. Even the smallest trinket could be cursed."

As we explored, Fred discovered a series of hidden passageways that led to the remains of a tavern. Its wooden beams had long since rotted away, but the stone bar still stood, covered in dust and cobwebs. John, casting a charm to appear as a bartender, pretended to serve drinks from behind the bar, eliciting a laugh from Abby.

"Robert, John," the headmistress called out, "I believe your interests lie in magical creatures and cultural traditions, respectively. Perhaps you'd like to explore the ruins of the market's library?"

John's eyes lit up as he adjusted his lapel, and Robert nodded eagerly. "The library is just over there, beyond that archway," Violet instructed, pointing out the door and into the distance. "But do remember that the wards here have become volatile over time. Stay together, and if anything seems off, return to this spot immediately."

The rest of us followed Headmaster Violet through the main avenue of the market, where ancient cobblestones bore the scars of long-forgotten enchantments. Percival and Fred whispered in hushed tones about the tactical potential of defensive spells learned from such a place. Meanwhile, Jenna furiously scribbled notes in her weathered notebook, her excitement palpable as we approached a worn stone pedestal bearing cryptic carvings.

"This pedestal," Violet explained, "is where merchants would display their wares to attract customers. Each symbol represents a different type of magic or artefact sold at this particular stall. Notice the hieroglyphs at the base—they indicate that this was once a hub for wand-makers."

Fred traced the intricate patterns with his fingertips. "These carvings must be thousands of years old. How did they manage to preserve the enchantments?"

"Some of these symbols contain preservation charms, while the wand-makers themselves etched others as signatures of their craftsmanship," Violet said, her tone tinged with reverence. "Wands crafted here were said to rival those of our very own Steppen & Gamord in quality and power."

We moved onward, the headmaster leading us to a sunken courtyard, where a once-grand fountain stood at the centre. Its waters had long since dried up, but magical inscriptions remained etched along its rim.

"This fountain," Violet said, "was used for ceremonial purposes, specifically for initiating new members into the guilds that governed the market. The waters held potent magical properties, and initiates would dip their wands into it to receive a blessing from the guild."

Jenna approached cautiously, her eyes scanning the carvings. "These inscriptions, they seem to have ties to ancient Egyptian rites."

"Indeed," Violet confirmed. "The market served as a melting pot for magical practices from around the world. This courtyard alone bore witness to rituals from Africa, Asia, and Europe."

She gestured towards the southern edge of the ruins, where a crumbling structure leaned precariously against the remnants of a stone tower. "That is the former entrance to the market's inner sanctum, where the guild masters held council. But it, too, has been twisted by Djehuti-al-Massri's magic."

As she spoke, a faint shimmer flickered at the far end of the courtyard. I squinted into the moonlit haze and made out the faint outlines of a doorway, just visible against the pale sandstone wall.

"Headmaster, over there," I said, pointing.

Violet turned sharply and strode towards the shimmering outline. With a flick of her wand, she tapped the stone wall, and the shimmer solidified into a translucent doorway.

"This," she said, "is an illusion that once concealed the market's ceremonial chamber."

With a murmured incantation, the headmaster dispelled the illusion, revealing a low-ceilinged room lined with shelves. Despite the years of neglect, the chamber remained remarkably well preserved. Golden light filtered through a small window, casting long shadows across the dust-covered floor.

We stepped cautiously into the chamber, and Jenna gasped as she spotted a faded tapestry hanging from the far wall. The woven images depicted wizards and witches gathered around a fountain identical to the one we had just left.

"This tapestry," Violet said, "shows the initiation ceremony of the wand-makers' guild. Here, you can see the guild masters bestowing blessings upon the initiates."

Jenna hurriedly sketched the scene in her notebook, her quill scratching feverishly against the parchment.

As we explored the shelves, Fred picked up a dusty tome, its pages yellowed and brittle. "These books," he said, "they look like trade ledgers."

Violet nodded. "The guilds kept meticulous records of every transaction. Such books offer invaluable insight into the magical economy of the time."

We spent the next hour sifting through the records, our voices hushed with reverence as we uncovered glimpses of the market's former glory. Abby found a collection of intricately carved wand handles, while Percival unearthed a set of ancient runes used for enchanting artefacts.

When we finally emerged from the ceremonial chamber, Violet gathered us around the fountain and spoke in a measured tone. "Let this be a lesson to you all," she said. "Ambition, unchecked, can lead to ruin. The magic we wield is powerful, but it is also fragile. Treat it with the respect it deserves, and remember the history of this place."

With that, we made our way back through the ruins, the glow of Violet's wand guiding us through the dark alleyways. The market seemed to whisper its secrets to us as we left, the wind carrying echoes of the past through the crumbling arches.

As we reached the outskirts, Jenna closed her notebook with a sigh. "There's so much more to uncover here," she said wistfully.

"And we will," Violet assured her. "But for now, we must rest. Tomorrow, you will have more time to explore."

Led by Headmaster Violet, we made our way from the haunting remains of the Great Witches' Market towards the thriving, albeit enigmatic, Souk al-Khufash. With a flick of her wand, Violet conjured a shimmering veil over us, an advanced Disillusionment Charm to ensure our safe passage through the bustling streets of Cairo. The air was filled with the scent of spices and the hum of Muggle life, but our presence remained unnoticed as we navigated through the labyrinthine alleys and narrow passages.

The journey was quiet, each of us lost in thoughts stirred by the ruins we had explored. As we approached the necropolis, the silhouette of the City of the Dead cast a sombre shadow under the crescent moon. This sprawling cemetery was not just a resting place for the Muggles of Cairo but also the unlikely backdrop for the newer market which had sprung up in its shadows. The superstitions surrounding the graves kept the curious and the uninvited well away, creating a secluded enclave perfect for those who dealt in the arcane and the occult.

"We are here," Violet announced as the imposing gates of the necropolis came into view, ornately decorated but bearing the marks of time and neglect. "Beyond these gates lies Souk al-Khufash, a market that, while not as grand as its predecessor, has become a vital hub for the magical community in this region."

The gates creaked open at her touch, revealing narrow, winding pathways that snaked between ancient tombs and mausoleums. Lanterns hung from the arches, casting a soft glow that flickered with magical energy, guiding us towards the heart of the market.

As we entered Souk al-Khufash, the atmosphere changed palpably. The air was charged with a buzz of activity; the murmur of voices and the occasional clink of glass vials filled the air. Stalls lined the pathways, each one shrouded in fabrics of deep, rich colours and lit by glowing orbs that floated lazily above their canopies. The vendors, a mix of potion brewers with their cauldrons simmering with mysterious brews, curse-breakers draped in cloaks adorned with talismans, and tomb raiders exchanging maps and tools, eyed us with a mix of curiosity and caution.

Abby, ever the adventurous one, was drawn to a stall displaying an array of ancient amulets. The vendor, a wiry old wizard with a keen eye, boasted of protections and powers each piece purportedly held. Fred, intrigued by a potion brewer's setup, discussed the properties of various elixirs, his interest piqued by a phial that promised to enhance elemental control.

Jenna and John, meanwhile, were engaged in conversation with a tomb raider who shared tales of recent expeditions into the depths of the pyramids. He spoke of curses so potent that even the bravest of his crew had hesitated to proceed, his stories underscored by the faint howl of the desert wind beyond the necropolis walls.

Violet led us to a quieter corner of the market, where a small café nestled between the larger stalls offered a respite from the bustling energy. Here, magical folk gathered around small tables, sipping on steaming cups of coffee and discussing the nuances of magical law and the impacts of international wizarding politics on local trade.

"As you can see," Violet explained as we took our seats at an ornate table, "Souk al-Khufash may lack the size and the grandeur of its predecessor, but it thrives by catering to those who seek the more esoteric aspects of magic. The collapse of the Great Witches' Market and the cursed legacy of Djehuti-al-Massri have taught Cairo's magical community to be more cautious, more secretive."

Percival, interested in the dynamics of the market, asked, "Has this caution affected the types of magic that are traded or practised here?"

Violet nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed, it has. The traders here are selective about whom they deal with, and many items require a deeper understanding or a specific magical ability to use safely. The market is not just a place of commerce but also a sanctuary for those who are serious about their craft."

As the night deepened, we continued our exploration, each stall and vendor adding layers to our understanding of the magical world and its complexities. The cautious whispers and the guarded exchanges we witnessed spoke volumes of the legacy left by past events—of a community forever marked by a history of ambition and misfortune yet resilient in its pursuit to keep the magic alive.

Eventually, we all found ourselves in front of a shabby building, its rickety stairs leading up to our rooms causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand.

But even as I lay in bed, the ruins of the Great Witches' Market lingered in my mind. The twisted magic that hung in the air, the eerie silence that filled the alleyways—it was as if the market itself was calling out to us, urging us to uncover the secrets buried in its sands. I knew then that our journey had only just begun, and that the true magic of Cairo was still waiting to be discovered.