Malak Aboul Gheit is no stranger to suffering. To death. But she is neither a stranger to love.
The path of this young Egyptian witch as she joins Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy in 3rd year seemed uncertain, but she will soon be trapped i...
It came from behind her, thus not allowing the Egyptian witch to see who it was. But she did not need to see him. She knew already who the owner of such foul voice was.
The Weasleys, Harry and Hermione, however, were looking directly at the owner of that voice.
They were looking directly at Rashid Aboul Gheit.
Malak turned around slowly, taking the time to compose herself as best as she could. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Deep breath in, deep breath out.
Like all those years ago, now it was not the time to panic. Panic could mean Rashid would get his way. Panic could cause someone to get hurt. And that was a price Malak Aboul Gheit was not willing to afford. She could not afford it.
"Khali (uncle)," she started cautiously "saba7 el kheir (good morning)."
"Malak, child, you should not speak a language your hosts do not understand" spoke the man unbeknownst to all but two Weasleys. "This is common courtesy, child. Has nobody taught you, Malak?"
The way her name rolled off his tongue... He was mocking her, slyly and coldly.
She remained silent for a moment longer, watching him with a stern look.
"Of course," she agreed in a quick whisper.
"Everyone, this is my uncle Rashid" he said, dramatically bowing and pointing at himself, "uncle Rashid these are... and you introduce me. Manners, child. Manners."
Charlie's muscles tensed and his jaw clenched. His whole body was on alert. He did not like this man at all. He did not know who he was, since Malak had never mentioned an uncle before, but the way he was addressing her made him nauseous. Charlie wanted to punch him in the face and make him apologize for the way he was treating Malak. But above all, he wanted him to disappear out of their sight — but that was not to happen.
There were however two Weasleys that knew perfectly well who he was. Bill and Molly Weasley knew Rashid Aboul Gheit, and they knew he meant no good.
Fred, George and Harry had never seen the man in person, but they immediately guessed who it he was. And they knew he meant no good.
There was a feeling of immense tension in the usually cozy living room of the Burrow. The air was heavy.
"How was the Quidditch World Cup, my sweet child?" Rashid questioned, donning the fakest smile a human could articulate. It was a sinister smile, one that could rival that of the devil himself. "I've been told that there was a bit of an altercation —a squabble, really. Are you alright, child?"
