Past's Present, Future's Life
Harry Potter stared longingly out the window of his room at Number Four, Privet Drive. School had let out a mere week before, and already he was looking forward to September, when it would start again.
At least he was getting mail from Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley this year. Their latest letters were spread out before him as he daydreamed.
"Coming!" Harry sighed. He packed the letters away and went downstairs.
"We are going to a party," Vernon Dursley informed him.
"Oh, joy," Harry muttered under his breath.
"While we are gone, you are to touch nothing that doesn't belong to you. No TV, no computer, nothing. Got it?"
"Yeah, I got it."
"Watch your tone, boy!" Vernon smoothed the front of his dinner jacket. "Come along now, Petunia, the Kaibas are expecting us."
The Dursleys left, much to Harry's joy. He could watch TV now. He could have something to eat without Petunia Dursley glowering at him.
All in all, this wasn't turning out to be a bad day, after all.
He watched TV for a while, and then fixed himself a snack. Always careful to leave everything exactly as he found it.
Around noon, the Dursleys still hadn't returned. Harry, bored, went out. He wandered around town for a while, careful to keep the wand in his pocket hidden from view.
He had a book with him, Book of standard spells, Grade Five, which he'd bought at Hogsmead last year intending to study ahead. Hermione had charmed it for him on the train home, making it look to anyone else like the latest issue of Shonen Jump. He carried it to the swings at the local park and sat there, reading. He was forbidden to try the spell, on penalty of expulsion, but he was sure that he could master them within a few minutes.
"Hey, look, it's Hairy Harry!" some snotty kid yelled from the monkey bars. His friends laughed and pointed.
Harry ignored them. He was used to taunting by now.
It started to get dark as he sat there, studying. Harry didn't realize that he could no longer see the words until a car zoomed by, startling him. He looked up to see the streetlights come on, one by one.
"I gotta get home!" he cried, jumping off the swing and racing toward Number Four, Privet Drive. He turned down a pitch-black alley. It was a shortcut that would take him to his street.
He looked up and saw, to his surprise, that the stars were gone. The summer night turned cold. A feeling of dread settled into the pit of his stomach.
He stopped and listened, heart pounding, his breathing loud and harsh. Then he heard it: swishing, scraping, rattling.
Harry pulled out his wand. The feeling of dread grew as a rattle sounded, and Harry felt every happy thought get sucked out of his mind.
Hold onto it… Hold onto it…
Harry fiercely held on to the image of going back to Hogwarts after a horrible holiday. "Expecto Patronum!"
A silver stag emerged from his wand and pounded down to where not one, but two dementors stood, waiting for him. The dementors hesitated, then fled. The sky returned, bring the stars with it. Harry breathed a sigh of relief.
"Thanks," he whispered to the stag as it evaporated.
"Nice job," a cold voice said from behind him. Harry whirled, wand in hand, to see a boy his age. He had pale blond hair and empty blue eyes. He held a rod in one hand, a rod with an odd eye on one end of it.
"Who are you?" Harry demanded.
"I'm Malik Ishtar. I applaud you. Not many people can take out two dementors. But I'm here to make sure you do not leave this alley alive."
Harry's heart stopped beating. He willed it active again. It just lay there, fluttering every now and then.
Harry gulped. "Take your best shot. Not even Voldermort has been able to kill me."
Malik raised his rod. "This is the Millennium Rod. I have not yet allowed someone who has seen it to live, aside from those who serve me. This shall be the instrument of your doom." He pointed the rod directly at Harry's chest.
Harry held his wand ready, prepared to counter any spell Malik could throw at him. The Book of Standard Spells, Grade 5 was clutched in his other hand.
Malik held his rod high. The weird eye appeared on his forehead. "Now you die, Harry Potter!"
"Protego!" Harry shouted desperately.
Whatever spell Malik cast hit the shield. The two spells merged, creating a wormhole between them. Harry grabbed onto the fence with one hand as the wormhole tried to suck him in. Malik just laughed.
Harry's grip was failing. He couldn't use his wand to cast a spell; it was jammed against his side as he held on.
Malik leaped forward and hit his knuckles hard with the rod. Harry, by reflex, let go of the fence. He was immediately pulled into the wormhole.
"NO!!!!" he screamed as darkness claimed him.
Egypt, 3000 B.C.
Yami turned from the window, the Puzzle swaying gently on his chest. "What is it?"
"Sire, your priests have just picked up an influx of magic unlike any they have sensed before! It is a mixture of Shadow magic and something we've never seen!"
Yami furrowed his brow in thought. "I sensed it also. Have they pinpointed the location?"
"Yes, my lord. It is in the country side, out by the great tombs of your ancestors!"
"Bring the cause of the magic here. If a outcast or a slave has somehow created a Millennium Item, I want it destroyed!"
The servant bowed. "As you command, My Pharaoh." He backed out of the room.
Yami turned again to the window. He could still sense the magic, though it was fainter now. The shadow magic had dissipated, leaving only the strange magic.
His guards would bring the culprit here. Be it Slave or Outcast, they would be punished for using the magic of the gods.
Harry opened his eyes. At first all he could see was white, but as his vision cleared, he began making out details.
A huge pyramid dominated the sky. Sand spread out around him. He most certainly wasn't in Britain anymore.
He sat up with an effort. His throat was as dry as the desert he was in. How long had he been out?
There'd been a charm in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5 for conjuring water. Harry flipped through the pages until he found it. The glass of water he managed to make moistened his throat, and he felt refreshed.
"Where am I?" he wondered aloud. The pyramid didn't look like the pictures he'd seen of the Great Pyramids of Egypt. Those were eroded, cracked. This one was whole, like it had just been built.
Like it had just been built.
"Please don't tell me," he groaned. "I've gone back in time!"
He'd had experience with time travel before, but that was just four hours into the past. He had to be thousands of years before he'd even be born!
"I have to find a town first," he told himself sternly, quelling the panic threatening to wash away all sense and reason. Putting his wand flat on his hand, he whispered to it, "Point Me."
It spun, pointing to his left. That was north. He'd go east. He remembered, from reading a Muggle Geography textbook, that a town was that way.
But what if it hadn't been built yet?
The sun was starting to go down. He'd have to find shelter for the night.
He conjured a fire and huddled against the base of the pyramid. Maybe someone would see his fire and come to investigate.
In the meantime, he searched his textbook for the language charm he'd read about. If he really was in ancient Egypt, he'd have to be able to speak Egyptian.
"Come on, come on," he muttered, scanning the pages. "There!" He'd found it! " 'This spell is a relatively new invention, allowing the user to speak an entirely different language. It is simple, consisting of an incantation. Point your wand at yourself and say linguist followed by the language you wish to speak. For example, to speak French, you would say linguist French.' Worth a try, I suppose."
He pointed his wand at himself, saying clearly, "Linguist Egyptian!"
Had it worked?
He looked back at the book and was pleased to see that he could no longer read it. Reversing the spell, he conjured a cloak and rolled up by his fire to await the morning.
Marik lead the palace guard to the source of the strange magic. It took all of that day and most of the night to reach the Great Pyramids. He sensed that whoever had used Shadow magic was still there. Perhaps it was that annoying thief Bakura, out to pillage the tombs sealed within the Pyramids.
"We're almost there, Priest," the head guard called to him.
Marik nodded absently. The sun was just beginning to rise. Soon the sands would begin to heat up.
The Great Pyramid was visible, outlined against the stars. The sun would be up before they got there, awakening the person they were hunting.
As they drew near, Marik was able to see who they were looking for. It was a boy, no older than his younger brother, perhaps fifteen floods. He had messy brown hair, striking green eyes, and an underfed look to him.
"He looks like Kurai," Marik said in shock.
They boy looked up from his book as they galloped up. "Don't move!" the head guard ordered him.
The boy looked puzzled for minute, then seemed to remember something. He held up a finger, signaling for them to wait, pulling out a slim stick with his other hand. "Linguist Egyptian." The stick glowed for a minute, then the boy looked up at them.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't understand what you said. Please repeat it."
The guard was dumbfounded. "I said don't move."
The boy nodded, eyeing their weapons. Marik dismounted and moved to the head of the guard, standing beside him.
"By order of the Pharaoh Yami, you are hereby placed under arrest for practicing magic forbidden to those other than the priests of the Pharaoh, and the Pharaoh himself. Surrender your possessions and await transport to Cairo, where judgment shall be passed."
The boy's eyes widened in shock, then hardened. He pulled out the stick again. "Malik!" he hissed.
"I'm sorry, but my name is Marik. You act as if we've met before."
The boy laughed. "Don't play games! I would recognize that Rod anywhere! You're the one who sent me to this god forsaken place in the first place!"
"Do not take the name of the gods in vain, child. I assure you, I'm not the one responsible for your crimes. Now surrender whatever weapon it is you have, or I'm afraid I shall be forced to use extreme measures." Marik raised his Rod, prepared to take control of the boy if he had to.
The boy shook his head. "Sorry, but like I told you before, I've gone against the most feared wizard of all time face-to-face and survived. You don't scare me." He raised the stick and commanded, "Accio Rod!"
Much to Marik's surprise, the Rod flew from his hand and into the boy's outstretched hand. The guards raised their weapons, preparing to use them.
"Stop!" Marik commanded. He turned to the boy. "What is your name?"
"I assure you, Harry Potter, that I am not the one who put you into this mess. I swear on my duty as priest to the Pharaoh. Now, may I have the rod back?"
He saw doubt cloud the boy's eyes for a moment. Finally, Harry nodded. "I'm keeping my wand, though."
"Fair enough. However, if you use it, you shall be relieved of it."
Harry held the Rod in front of him and said something. The Rod flew from his hand into Marik's. He then tucked it into a pocket of his weird pants and allowed his hands to be tied.
"I'll use my wand if I need it," Harry said, looking Marik straight in the eye. "Until then, I swear on my mother's grave that I will not use it."
"To swear on the grave of a loved one is one of our more sacred oaths," Marik warned him. "To break it would mean eternal damnation."
"I always keep to my oaths. Even one made with my worst enemy."
Marik could see that Harry was telling the truth. "Come, we must rest the horses before returning. Let us eat, and you can tell me of how you came to be here."
Harry studied Marik closely. He was dressed in robes of a kind he'd never seen and wore a fair amount of jewelry. Other than that, he looked exactly like Malik.
Harry surrendered the book to the guards. He could see them looking at it in puzzlement and remembered that the ward Hermione had put on it was still active. He would have undid it, but his oath prevented him.
"Over here, Harry Potter," Marik said. A guard had spread a blanket on the sand and was busy unpacking food.
Harry sat down. Marik handed him a chunk of bread and cheese.
"You claim that I brought you here. Why is that?"
Harry awkwardly ate the food, having to account for his tied wrists. He chewed, weighing the truth against Marik's reaction.
"A relative of yours used that Rod to try and kill me," he answered finally. Truth, sort of.
"Impossible. This is the only Rod in the world, and it never leaves my person."
"A descendant of yours," Harry admitted. He didn't know for sure, but it made sense.
"Descendant? Then you are from the future?"
"The distant future."
"I see. That would explain your clothing."
They sat in silence, Harry gulping the proffered wine. He was too young for wine, but it was the only thing to drink.
"I have no way of knowing whether you are telling the truth, but I shall accept your words, for now. Tell me, how can you use magic?"
Harry pulled out his wand. "This. I say incantations, and they trigger magic. For example," he hastily put his wand away, "Accio is the Summoning Charm. I can summon just about anything, as long as it actually exists."
"Can your magic be used in an offensive capacity?"
Harry nodded. "We have jinxes, curses, and hexes for that. Also the counters, and defensive spells."
"I see. Very well. Who is this 'most feared wizard of all time' you mentioned?"
Harry shook his head. "Sorry, but I've said to much already. I doubt the Ministry of Magic exists yet, but there's no sense in taking chances."
"Very prudent of you." Marik finished his food. "We shall embark in a few minutes. We've brought a horse for you to use. Remember your oath."
I remember, Harry thought to himself as he was led to a chestnut mare and helped to mount. The guards formed a circle around him, cutting off any non-magic escape.
The ride itself was boring. Harry spent most of the time quizzing the guards and concluded that he was at least five thousand years before his own time. Either that, or Voldermort was playing a very cruel joke.
The arrived at Cairo just as the sun was beginning to rise the next morning. Harry had fallen asleep in the saddle and had to be roused by a guard.
They stopped outside the palace of the Pharaoh. Harry rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked up.
"The Pharaoh has sensed you coming and would like to see you directly," a messenger informed them.
"Very well. Come with me, Harry Potter, and we shall see what the Pharaoh thinks."
Yami waited in his audience chamber, pacing. Bakura had been caught again and was awaiting sentencing, and now the one responsible for the magic out by the pyramid was being brought to him. All in all, not a bad day.
"They are here, Pharaoh," his messenger said.
"Send them in," he commanded.
The doors were flung open and Marik strode in, tailed by several guards and a boy. The boy was looking around in interest.
Marik bowed respectfully. The guards raised their weapons in salute. The boy bowed awkwardly.
"My lord Pharaoh, I've apprehended he person responsible, as you commanded," Marik said.
"You may rise." Yami walked over to them and studied the boy. "Speak, boy. Who are you?"
"Harry Potter, sir."
"What were you doing out by the tomb of my ancestors?"
"Nothing, sir. I was sent here by my enemies."
Yami smirked. "What boy would have enemies powerful enough for that?"
"Me, sir. A powerful magician has wanted me dead since my birth."
"I don't believe you. Have his tongue cut out for lying to his pharaoh," Yami ordered idly.
Harry looked on in alarm as a guard brought out a knife. When they grabbed him, he cried out in alarm and tried to run. Yami turned and strode up to his throne. A resounding CRACK! brought his attention back to the prisoner.
The guards' weapons had all turned to snakes. The guards dropped them, and the snaked slithered to the boy's feet. Harry looked stunned and backed away as a snake drew itself up to bite through his bonds.
"What is this?" Yami demanded.
A large snake slithered toward him, mouth open, fangs dripping with poison. Harry snapped out of his trance, saw the snake, and pulled out his wand.
The spell hit the snake, throwing it a few feet away. It turned to Harry, hissing something. To Yami's amazement, the boy responded. The snake hissed, looked balefully at Yami, and moved away.
"What magic is this?" Yami demanded.
"I'm sorry," Harry stammered. "I haven't done anything like this in years! I'm so sorry!"
The snakes curled up around Harry. The boy put his wand back in his pocket and picked the remainder of the ropes that had been holding him from his wrists.
"No person could do this on accident!" Yami spat.
"I did, sir! You have to believe me! I didn't mean it! It was an accident!"
"Say I believe you," Yami growled. "Why did it happen?"
"I made it happen, but it was an accident! Sometimes wizards, when they're really scared or stressed, do accidental magic! One time, I blew up my aunt!"
Yami glowered at him. Instead of cowering, Harry stared back, almost in challenge.
Yami grinned, throwing Harry off balance for a moment. "You have guts, child. I admire that. There is one way to determine whether you are telling the truth. Marik, summon Shadi."
Marik bowed. He'd been to shaken by the serpents' appearance to help. "Right away."
They only had to wait for a few minutes. Shadi walked into the room and bowed. "You summoned me?"
"Enter the room of this boy's soul, and determine whether he told me the truth."
"What?" Harry asked.
Shadi turned to him. "If your heart is pure, you have nothing to fear." He raised the Millennium Key to Harry's forehead.
Shadi opened his eyes. The first thing that assaulted him was the sun. It shone down into a field of sorts, with three rings suspended on each end. Gathered within this field stood a maze of sorts, simple, but signifying Harry's search for his true purpose.
Shadi entered the maze and made his way quickly to the center. Here stood a closed off building, rather small but filled with a power that Shadi had felt only within the Pharaoh himself.
Shadi left the maze. Scattered about the grass were various balls, one scarlet, two black, and a tiny golden one with delicate feather wings. A broomstick stood prominently in the middle of these, the word "Firebolt" clearly visible. This broom and these balls were important to Harry, Shadi surmised, playing a big part in his life.
A table stood near the balls and broom. Shadi walked over to it. Several pictures waved up at him. They moved. Shadi looked down in wonder. The largest picture was that of two people, a man who looked like Harry but with blue eyes, and a woman with the same vibrant green eyes Harry had. Shadi surmised they must be his parents. And, judging by the small skull in the corner of the photo, laughing up at him, they were dead.
Several bookcases stood near the maze entrance. Shadi pulled a book down from it. Jinxes for the Jinxed. Flipping through it, Shadi found techniques for defense against a magic he'd never seen before. Wand magic. Darkness hovered about the books. Evil tainted this boy. But evil from another. Shadi could easily believe that Harry was hunted by a powerful foe.
Satisfied, Shadi withdrew from Harry's soul room. Harry blinked and looked up at him.
"Wow," he muttered.
Shadi turned to Yami. "This boy tells the truth. He has a powerful enemy."
"What else have you learned?" Yami asked.
"This boy's parents were killed, probably by the same enemy. He has been tainted by this enemy, but his heart is pure otherwise."
"His name is Voldermort," Harry said. "He's trying to take over the wizarding world and get rid of all the Muggles and Muggle-born wizards. He tried to kill me when I was a baby, but something about me defeated him. My name is a household word back home." He grimaced. "I hate being famous."
Yami grinned knowingly. "I know how you feel. So, where are you from, child?"
"England in the year 2003 AD."
Yami turned thoughtful. "It is indeed a powerful enemy you have if they can send you back in time."
"Voldermort didn't send me back in time," Harry said. He grinned sheepishly. "It was a kid my age named Malik Ishtar. He used the rod Marik has right here."
"So the Millennium Items will be called upon again in your time?"
Harry shrugged. "I guess."
"Have you any idea how far back in time you've been sent?"
"Several thousand years, at least."
"I see," Yami murmured. "Very well. Until I figure out what to do with you, you are confined to the palace. A guard is to escort you everywhere. Now go."
"Where shall we put him?" Marik asked.
"The minor guest quarters. For merchants. You know the ones."
Marik bowed. Harry clumsily mimicked him. "Come now, Harry Potter. I hereby release you from your oath, on the condition that you do not use magic against anyone in the palace."
"I swear," Harry said solemnly.
Yami was left alone in the chamber. He sat in his throne, thinking.
Harry settled on the bed in the modest room he'd been given, thumbing through The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5. A servant had been sent to get him robes, and the guard waited outside his door.
He didn't think such advanced spells like magical time travel was covered in the book, and he wasn't disappointed. The only thing he could do was wait and hope Dumbledore or the Pharaoh could send him back. It was frustrating. He was powerless here.
Noises outside his door caught his attention. He opened it to find his guard wrestling with a white-haired youth a few years older than him.
"Let me go!" the youth shouted, writhing in the guard's grasp.
"No you don't Bakura! Get back to the dungeons!"
"Get off me!" Bakura yelled, freeing one hand and reaching into a pocket. Harry saw the knife he drew and hastily pulled out his wand.
Harry caught the knife as it flew from Bakura's hand.
"You wouldn't happen to be able to stun him, would you?" the guard asked him. He struggled to pin Bakura's arms behind him. Bakura, deprived of his weapon, resorted to biting.
Harry nodded. "Better get out of the way!" He raised his wand and waited for the guard to step aside. Bakura, thinking he was free, dashed down the hall. "Stupefy!"
The jet of red light caught Bakura in the back, sending him flying. The guard grabbed Bakura and nodded his thanks to Harry.
"You've got to come with me. I'm not supposed to leave you."
"Okay," Harry agreed. He put his wand away and followed the guard down the corridor.
They made it to the dungeons, where guards were dashing about frantically. Apparently, from what Harry heard, Bakura was quite infamous down here. He'd escaped before, several times, and no one could figure out how.
With Bakura locked back in his cell, Harry revived him.
"Who the hell do you think you are, kid?! Blasting me in the back! I'll get you for this!" Bakura raged.
"Maybe in your next life," Harry said. He could imagine whom he'd be reincarnated as. Malfoy, anyone?
Harry went back to his room, where a servant patiently waited for him. Harry tried on several robes before finding some that fit.
He was summoned to diner in the formal dining hall. Apparently, all guests dined with the pharaoh. Harry stuck his wand into a pocket, adjusted his glasses, and followed his guard.
Marik waited for him, showing to his chair. He then took his own seat. Harry noted that everyone seemed to be waiting for Yami. To pass the time, he looked around at the chatting guests.
He was seated down toward the end. Marik and the other priests occupied the places closest to the seat Yami would sit in. There were ten priests. Six of them had items with the weird golden eye on them. One of them caught Harry's attention. He looked like Harry, all except for the scar. His item was a golden sphere, which had three tapered rods, as thin as Harry's own wand, extending from it. Two of the wands had a chain attached to it, which hung around the priest's neck. The third hung down over his robes.
Harry nudged the guy on his right. "Excuse me, but who is the priest who looks like me?"
The man looked. "That's Kurai. He holds the Millennium Pendant. No one knows what it does, though."
"Thanks." Harry stared up at Kurai. He'd never expected to meet a double of himself here. It was unnerving.
A bell rang, and everyone stood up and bowed. Harry followed suit. Yami entered and took his place at the head of the table.
"Dig in," he said with a grin. Everyone picked up their forks and began to eat. Harry enjoyed the meal. Reminded him of Hogwarts.
After the meal, Harry wasn't escorted to his room. Instead, his guard took him to Yami's personal chambers.
"You go in alone," his guard told him. "The pharaoh wants to talk to you."
Harry nodded and knocked on the door. A servant opened it and ushered him in.
"Come in, Harry," Yami said. He was sitting at a table talking to Kurai. "Kurai, this is Harry. Harry, Kurai."
"Nice to meet you," Harry said. He took the seat Yami offered.
"Why have you brought a child here?" Kurai asked.
"It is my place to do what I wish. However, I'm sure you've noted the striking similarity in your appearances."
Kurai studied Harry. "It is odd," he admitted.
"He's from the future, Kurai."
"Really?" Kurai looked closely at Harry. "He does not look like he's from the future."
"What am I doing here, sir?" Harry asked Yami.
"I want to talk to you about you, Harry." Yami settled down into his chair, getting comfortable. "I can send you back, but first I wanted to know your thoughts on this Malik that you claimed attacked you."
"He was sent by Voldermort to kill me," Harry said. "Instead, he somehow managed to send me here."
"He used the Millennium Rod?" Yami asked.
Kurai looked up, interested.
"Interesting. Tell me, have you seen Kurai's Millennium Pendant before?"
Kurai looked back down again.
"I see," Yami said, disappointed.
"What is it?" Harry asked.
"I believe that in your time, the Shadow Magic we Holders wield through our Items has been released. We were planning to lock the magic away in a few days' time. It has grown to dangerous."
"How so?" Harry asked.
"The creatures who reside in the shadow realm have grown restless. They're emerging from the Shadow Realm, and that idiot Bakura is helping them. Somehow, he's gotten his hands on the Millennium Ring."
"That's a bad thing?"
"Yes. It is a good thing that you recaptured Bakura, for he is needed in the ceremony."
"If you lock your magic away, how will I get home?!" Harry asked in alarm.
"I'll leave instructions with the keeper of the Items to use the Items to get you back in your own time. I do not know how long it will take, but you will get home." Yami smiled reassuringly at him.
Somehow, Harry didn't feel any better.
"Don't worry, kid. What Yami says happens." Kurai grinned at him. Harry felt a little better.
"What'll happen to you guys though?" Harry asked.
"I do not know. But whatever happens, you'll be there. For some reason I feel as if you have to be there." Yami frowned in puzzlement.
"Maybe we'll need him as a sacrifice," Kurai said.
"Do not joke like that, especially when he's in the room!" Yami chided him.
Harry fiddled with his wand. Something was bothering him. He couldn't figure out what, though.
"Well, I suppose you'd like to go read," Yami sighed.
"If you don't mind."
"Very well. Feel free to explore the palace. Your guard will steer you away from restricted areas. I shall see you tomorrow at breakfast."
Harry nodded and left.
Yami watched Harry leave, then turned to Kurai. "What do you think?"
"He plays some part in our struggle."
"I thought that also. What part, though?"
"There is no way of knowing."
Yami sighed. "I get a strange sense from him. Like you and he are the same, sort of."
"I can't figure it out." He sighed in frustration. "It's going to drive me crazy!"
"Well, be assure, I shall be there to bring you back to sanity."
Yami grinned. "Go now. Tend to your duties."
Kurai bowed his head and left.
Harry enjoyed his stay at the palace. He wandered around, quizzing his guard on various bits of information. History of Magic shouldn't a problem now! he thought to himself. Then he became depressed, because he wasn't home yet.
A week passed in this fashion, and each day a feeling of foreboding grew in Harry's heart. Something big was going to happen. He could feel it.
Exactly eight days after his arrival in Ancient Egypt, he was summoned to a secret chamber beneath the palace. There, eight people had assembled. Six priests, one Tomb Robber, and Yami himself.
"Stay back, Harry," Yami instructed. Harry nodded and stood in a corner. His wand was hidden in a pocket, and he'd brought The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5 with him. He was planning to read it during the ceremony.
Yami looked around. "We have all agreed that this is for the best. Correct? Bakura, you don't count."
Harry watched, his book forgotten, as Yami spoke an incantation in a language no one could understand. All eight Items glowed, and each person's eyes began to close, their heads falling forward.
Harry felt this way, too. He couldn't understand why. He felt as if his mind was being drawn somewhere, away from the safety of his body.
No! he cried in horror, struggling to stay. It was a losing battle. The world was growing darker…He couldn't hear anything…
Suddenly, it stopped. His eyes snapped open. Yami stood over him, looking at him with concern.
"Why were you drawn to the Pendant?" Yami demanded.
Harry shook his head slowly. "I don't know."
Sinister laughter filled the air. Everyone's eyes turned to the indistinct shadow that appeared in the air above them.
"We meet at last, Harry Potter," a familiar voice hissed.
"Voldermort," Harry said coolly.
"I see Bakura did as we agreed. Too bad the pharaoh interfered. When I return to life, you will not be there to stop me!"
"This is wrong," Harry said. "You've already returned to life."
"Really? This is very interesting. Maybe, one day, I will understand. Bakura, finish what you started!"
Yami knocked Bakura unconscious. He then turned to Voldermort.
"I banish you from here, demon," Yami commanded angrily. "Be gone!"
With a loud, angry roar, Voldermort disappeared.
"Now we can continue. Harry, you may stay if you wish. I will see to it that you are not involved."
Once again, Yami began the ceremony. When it was over, all eight Holders were slumped on the ground, lifeless. Harry picked up his book and walked over to Yami. The pharaoh's spiky head was resting on top of the puzzle.
"What happened?" he asked in awe, walking over to Kurai. Something made him pick up the pendant.
"Put that down!" an attendant said in alarm.
Before Harry had a chance to obey, a wormhole opened behind him, sucking him in, pendant, book, and all.
When he could see again, he found himself looking up into the face of Dumbledore.
"Welcome back, Harry," Dumbledore said pleasantly.
Harry bolted upright. The pendant was underneath him, and he stuffed it into a pocket in his robes.
"Isis Ishtar was glad to bring you back, Harry," Dumbledore said, indicating a woman standing next to him.
"I hate your brother," Harry said, without meaning to.
Isis smiled. "Everyone says that."
"How long were you in Egypt, Harry?" Dumbledore asked him.
"About a week."
"I see. You'll do well in History of Magic, I reckon."
Harry grinned. "I reckon so. How long have I been gone?"
"It is almost your birthday. Unfortunately, I must send you back to your Uncle's house."
Harry nodded, picking himself up from the ground and walking over to the fireplace erected on the ground. They were in the park, and it was night, so no one noticed them.
"Good luck, Harry. Tell Kurai hi for me," Isis said with a wink.
Harry looked at her strangely before stepping into the fireplace and going home.