The Wizard From Earth by Morta's Priest
Chapter 1 - The Cat
Everything hurt. Harry tried to get to his feet, but the world wouldn't stop spinning in circles. His eyes felt like they had been stitched shut, and when he tried to speak no words would come out.
Someone was talking to him. He didn't know what they were saying, since the feminine voice was speaking a language that was most certainly not English. Probably some form of Arabic, considering where he was. Cold hands touched his eyes, and Harry winced as a spike of pain ran from his head to his toes. He wondered briefly if he'd managed to contract some horrible disease without realizing it.
Two shining eyes - he remembered those. He didn't know why that memory was so strong, but it stood out. He tried to move his extremities again, and found to his relief that he was still holding his wand. His right hand was cramped around it tightly, and he couldn't loosen his fingers.
The woman spoke once more, her tone soothing. Cold water poured over his face, and though it prickled uncomfortably on his skin, it brought some relief from the brooding heat. A sliver of light occasionally broke through the darkness that lay over his eyes, though it seemed unbelievably distant.
Where was he? What happened? He tried to remember. He'd been in Egypt, yes. Why had he been there? He racked his mind and the only thing that occurred to him was Ron's face, brown from the sun. There was another, too. Bill. Bill Weasley, curse breaker for Gringotts, husband of Fleur.
That's right. He'd been at a pyramid, one of the big ones in Egypt, during his vacation before he'd go back to Auror training. He remembered now. He'd been standing in an abandoned hallway, all alone...
Where the hell had the others gone?
Harry rubbed his head tiredly, staring at the floor. Bill Weasley's pitch had been quite convincing, really. He'd spoken about majestic pyramids and vast underground caverns that Muggles had never found, about fantastic creatures and intricately trapped burial grounds where curse breakers came to study and work from all across the globe. He'd seemed quite convincing at the time.
Bill hadn't mentioned the scorpions. Or the snakes. Or the ever-present heat. To make matters worse, using a spell to ward off such things could be fatal in these dangerous places, where ancient wizards had laid out traps for the careless, and lethal puzzles for the particularly bold.
Not that Harry was contending with any of that, right now. No - he'd just gotten lost. Or the reverse, perhaps, since he had no idea where Bill or Ron were, but a pretty good idea of his own position. It happened so easily, too - he'd spotted an interesting hieroglyph on the wall, stopped to admire the beautifully carved figures, and when he turned back around they had vanished. He'd waited there for ten minutes, whistling idly to himself, before he decided they weren't coming back. He couldn't use a tracking spell, since he'd probably end up mummified alive by a stray curse, and walking further in without a guide was basically suicide.
That left boredom.
Another ten minutes later, Harry finally realized that wherever Bill and Ron were, they'd either forgotten he was supposed to be there (in which case he'd have to curse them later) or they didn't know exactly which hallway he'd been left behind in. That wasn't an unbelievable proposition, considering the vast amounts of nigh-identical paths that riddled the pyramids. Most of them had been enchanted invisible to Muggles by ancient wizards from Egypt, likely an equivalent of the modern Statute of Secrecy, and some were invisible even to wizards unless they use magic to detect them. A dicey proposition, at best.
"Fantastic," Harry muttered, ruffling the sand from his hair as he traced his steps back outside. He had to take three lefts, then two rights, and then straight on till the end. Not terribly difficult, but he knew that at least two of the side-routes led to traps that previous explorers had ended up in. One of them contained a human skeleton in several different pieces, a large hole in his skull and both kneecaps. Most unpleasant.
At last, Harry emerged into daylight, finding himself near ground-level, decidedly further down from where he'd entered. With a chill he realized that he had to have picked the wrong path somewhere along the way. He leaned briefly against the wall as he considered what would've happened if he'd made a worse mistake. The sun was high in the sky, and the stifling heat of the desert made him break out into a sweat. Right then, he didn't really care.
"You're back early," A white-clad older man said with a pronounced accent, raising an eyebrow as he took in Harry's somewhat bedraggled form. Harry vaguely remembered greeting the man before he entered the monument and nodded, joining him under the small sunshade he was using to keep at least moderately cool. "There are many who do not dare to delve deeply into the pyramids, you know. There are many enchantments that wizards don't yet know about. At least some of those spells are known to repulse people from the inner depths of these mighty structures, based on criteria few know anything about."
Harry glanced back at the pyramid and considered briefly that it'd been a spell that separated him from the others. "Curse-breakers identify those, don't they?"
The man nodded. "That's right. There are many that live here who like to forget that these structures were built with magic which is now forgotten. I suppose it is a certain kind of pride, shall we say. They like to think that they're descendants of those ancient wizards, rather than immigrants from later ages."
Harry thought of Hogwarts, and the fact that there were still secrets in that ancient stronghold which people didn't know about, and magic which few had even heard of. Voldemort himself had been proud of being Slytherin's heir, despite the relatively horrible state that the Gaunt family had been in, just on account of that historical connection. He supposed modern Egyptians too cared more about the connection that they shared this land, rather than the technical fact that the actual historical culture had vanished.
"I suppose I can understand what you mean," Harry said. "Are you from around Bubastis, then?"
"Oh, no, I come from upstream," the man said, smiling slightly. "Heliopolis. Wonderful city, wonderful people. I haven't been there in quite a while, though. No, I like to spend my time seeing the world, these days. Oh, I just realized, I am being rude. Where are my manners?" He stuck out a hand and bowed slightly. "I am Khnurn, at your service."
"Nice to meet you, Khnr..." Harry tried, tripping over the pronunciation.
Khnurn laughed lightly, and Harry stopped trying to repeat the name. Khnurn shook his head in amusement."It is not a common name, I know; there are those who claim my mother is a most impossible woman."
Harry shook the man's hand, nodding. "Harry Potter."
"I had figured out that much," Khnurn said, glancing briefly at the scar – it had faded slightly since last year, but it was doubtful it'd ever fade entirely. Harry self-consciously made sure it was covered by his hair again. Khnurn looked on in amusement. "I am afraid that your stories have spread around the world, so there are few who won't recognize that scar. It is an honour to meet such an esteemed wizard from foreign lands."
Harry shrugged, embarrassed. "I just came here on a vacation, you know… two weeks, that's all. One of my friend's brothers sold me on the idea of coming here. I hoped, and it's perhaps silly of me, that I could just be another tourist."
"To really understand Egypt you have to live there, I think," Khnurn said mildly, and he smiled. "I am glad that you like our cultural heritage enough to visit, though. I admit, I have a personal interest as well, and it is always nice to meet fellow enthusiasts."
"I want to visit all sorts of places, if I can get around to it," Harry admitted. "So... Khnurn," he said hesitantly. "What can you tell me about Bubastis? Living here, you must know all kinds of things."
Khnurn shrugged. "Of course, of course. I suppose Egypt is best known for its illustrious history, among wizards and Muggles alike," Khnurn said. "There used to be a rich magical culture here that spanned from the earliest days of Muggle settlement all the way to the rise of Christianity, about two millennia back. What remained of the local culture at that time spread around the world, and it was Egyptian wizardry that inspired many foreign practices we think are really normal today. Wand-use first developed here, you know. It's also where we can trace the first confirmed magic in all the world."
"Really?" Harry asked. "I suppose I should've paid more attention in History of Magic." He smiled sheepishly. "In my defence, the teacher even bored himself to death."
"I've found that it's not knowledge of specific events that helpful in understanding ancient people, but their mentality, the way they thought about things." He put a hand on the rough stones of the vast monument. "This here's a tomb, after all. The ancient Egyptians had a great respect for the dead, especially their leaders. They were buried in such massive monuments as this one because of the belief that the deceased would ascend to godhood. In those days, religion and magic were far more intertwined than they are today; mighty wizards named themselves gods, and there were precious few who would question their authority. It is a small wonder that as far as we're aware, there was no Wizard Pharaoh. Really, the intertwined nature of the two continued until well into the modern era, when Christianity finally declared that witchcraft was evil, and the following unrest and fear among Muggles led to the International Statute of Secrecy. It's not really that important to know exactly how these tombs were built, rather than why. These were different people than we are."
"There are religious wizards, today," Harry pointed out. "I know of at least a few that follow Pagan traditions, and even some Christians."
"True, true, but that's simply side-by-side, not mixed," Khnurn cautioned. "Why do you think that religion and the supernatural are so inextricably linked? Why vampires are repulsed by holy objects, why magical powers are claimed to be created by any number of deities?" He smiled. "Perhaps you should consider that."
"You sound like a philosopher," Harry said in amusement.
"Well, I do know a bit about history and philosophical thought," Khnurn admitted. "Perhaps I should tell you about the history of this particular village, and how it came to have such a majestic pyramid, considering how small it was. It's quite an interesting tale, and I'm sure it would shock quite a few people, considering how it contradicts what they claim to know about history..."
Harry hesitated in answering. He'd realized that he was standing in a pretty secluded spot, well away from where he'd first entered the pyramid; he'd not easily be found by the others, here. Granted, learning a little more about this place would be interesting and he was mildly interested in the ancient Egyptian wizards of this region, but he had to find the others. This particular monument had dozens of exits, all of which looked the same, and going back in was a bad idea. His best bet was probably to head back to his tent, and wait for the others there. Khnurn seemed to pick up on his indecisiveness.
"I suppose listening to an old fool like me isn't really what interests the modern youth," he said with a smile and a wink. "It's not that important, anyway. You'll figure it out on your own, I'm sure. I should be heading back to the river to catch my ride, in any case."
"Yes. A ship," Khnurn responded. "Her name is Mesektet; I built her myself, you know. These days I usually have someone sail it for me, though. I'm not quite as strong as I used to be." He smiled as he prodded his spindly arm. "Enjoy your stay in the Land of the Pharaohs, and make sure to keep your wand on you, especially in the seedier parts of town. I'll be seeing you, Harry Potter."
Harry nodded and waved him off as the old man wandered away. It was doubtful that Harry would get back to Egypt any time soon, but it was a nice thought. Running into locals that could actually speak English was remarkably rare. He gazed up at the pyramid once more, wondering despite himself what the story of its origin would have been. Why did some ancient people build a massive tomb in the middle of nowhere?
Finally he turned towards the little village at the foot of the monument. Perhaps he could grab his two-way mirror from his tent and contact home while he waited for the Weasley brothers to get there.
Harry started as someone quite suddenly pressed a cup to his lips. He took a few sips of whatever he'd been offered, too tired to protest. Was it medicine, perhaps? He blearily tried to open his eyes again, coughing. The intense discomfort on his skin was less acute, now. The swelling on his eyes was finally decreasing too. He'd apparently manage to get his entire body swollen up beyond recognition, which just confused him further. What kind of disease did he contract? His eyes still worked, at least, but without his glasses he saw little more than vague shapes; the only thing he could make out occasionally was a dark-skinned face of the woman who treated him. Her expression betrayed pity, if anything.
He slept in fits and spurts, and sometimes when he woke there was someone else with him. He was a tall man, too tall to make out his face with any detail, but he had dark hair and wore something shiny around his neck. Once there had been an elderly woman too, grey hair tucked behind her ears and her eyes glazed over in blindness. She'd said quite a few things in several different languages, and though Harry recognized that there were differences between them, none of them had any meaning to him.
He'd tried to enunciate a word – his tongue was swollen, so it was difficult. He'd managed to get out 'English'. The word, it seemed, hadn't had any particular meaning to them, since nobody responded.
It was the fourth day – if he hadn't skipped any while sleeping – that Harry finally managed to get upright without collapsing. He found he was wearing some kind of odd robe, brown and tattered around the edges, and what remained of his original clothes was piled up in the corner, cut into bits and pieces and spattered with pus and blood. Definitely not something he'd wear again. Although Harry thought his head had been bandaged, the fabric wrapped around it felt like a sort of coarse leather. Two primitive sandals stood next to the slab he'd been occupying; he couldn't really describe it as a bed, since it was barely even raised off the ground, and padded with some kind of straw.
"Where the hell am I?" he asked at last, though it came out in a jumbled heap. It didn't matter, though – he'd seen no sign that anyone even spoke English, let alone understood it. Was he even among wizards anymore? He'd certainly seen no wands thus far.
His head still pounded as he set his first hesitant step the edge of the hut. The thing was barely kept upright by several wooden beams strapped together with some kind of fabric covering it, which just signalled how destitute the owner had to be. It barely counted as a proper dwelling, honestly. He tried to recall how he'd ended up here, in the care of these obviously poor people, but whenever he did painful spikes shot through his cranium and he almost collapse.
Blinking against the light, Harry finally managed to look around: He was on the outskirts of some kind of village. There were quite a few people out, many of them wearing little in the ways of clothes. In the distance he could see some kind of obelisk. It was rather brightly painted, and Harry frowned in confusion.
Suddenly someone grabbed his shoulder, and he started. It took him a moment to realize that it was the woman he'd been seeing, staring at him with something between astonishment and happiness. She muttered something in her language – Harry couldn't make out a word – and gestured.
"I'm sorry, I don't…" Harry started, wincing as his skull felt like someone had just slammed on it like a gong. "I don't understand what you're saying."
The woman seemed to grasp his meaning, frowning. She said another few words and then tapped herself on the chest. "Ahaneith." She cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. Harry frowned.
"Ahaneith?" When she smiled and nodded, Harry felt encouraged. That had to be her name, then. Had to start somewhere, he supposed. He clumsily imitated her, tapping his chest. "Harry."
She repeated the name, making it sound rather different than the way he said it. Finally, she gave a bow. Harry wasn't sure what to make of that. He made his way back inside so he could rest for a bit on the straw cover of the 'bed', as his legs were beginning to throb and his head still felt like it had been unscrewed. Ahaneith followed him, though she didn't seem to know what to do.
"Water," Harry said, making a drinking motion. "Water."
The woman nodded immediately, stepping outside; a few moments later she returned with something that was most definitely not water. Harry carefully sipped from the cup he was offered – a clay cup, of all things – and blinked. It was beer. He glanced at Ahaneith who looked nervously at the cup and then at him, and Harry nodded in appreciation, which seemed to be what she was looking for, as she smiled widely and gave another bow.
"Sure are some courteous people here," Harry said in amazement; the hut belonged to someone who lived in poverty, with little in the ways of food and drink, yet the woman who owned this place was lending it out without complaint to a sick person, and even giving him alcoholic beverages instead of tap water. Of course, it didn't look like she had any of that either. He'd have to remember to give her a good sum from his vaults after he got back home, so she could get out of this squalor.
The beer was surprisingly good – it was actually fairly cool, a small miracle out here in the desert, and considering butterbeer didn't have any alcohol in it, he'd not tasted anything quite like it in ages. Not since that time that he'd been slipped Fire-whiskey.
A sound broke the silence, and Harry glanced to Ahaneith, who was looking at the floor with a strange expression. A black cat strode in like it owned the place, placing itself next to the makeshift bed, and Harry stared at it distantly. He remembered this – shining eyes. Cat's eyes. He'd been sitting on his bed in the old Weasley tent that Bill brought with him to Egypt. He'd had the mirror in front of him...
Harry looked apologetically at Hermione, trying to cover for his forgetful friends. He squatted on his bed with the two-way mirror in his hand, recovering from the dusty heat. "Just calm down, please."
"I can't believe those two!" Hermione said from the mirror's surface, fuming. "Of all the irresponsible, idiotic-"
"I'm perfectly fine," Harry said a little sharper than he'd intended. "I don't even have sunburn. Honestly, it's probably just a mistake, nothing more. I suppose that whatever was in that pyramid was really interesting."
Hermione sighed in exasperation. "Just make sure to contact me when Ron gets back – I'll give him an earful like you wouldn't believe!" She paused for a moment. "You are enjoying your stay, right? Because if you're just being left behind everywhere, it's not much of a vacation."
"It's actually very interesting," Harry assured her. "In fact, I ran into a wizard earlier, his name was Knurk or something else bizarre like that, who told me a bit about how wizardry used to be so entwined with religion here. It was actually kind of intriguing." He frowned after a moment. "Hey, do you happen to know why there's a pyramid here, exactly? Knu- well, that man was about to tell me, but I think he didn't like my impatience at Ron and Bill, so he set off."
Hermione hummed under her breath and narrowed her eyes. "You're near Bubastis, right? I'd have to look it up, but I'm almost positive that it's a mystery why it's there, even to wizards. Supposedly it's the only pyramid that doesn't belong to a known Pharaoh, which makes it pretty unusual. Muggles don't even know about its existence, of course."
"Yeah, I knew that much." Harry frowned as he thought back to the meeting with that man. Khnurn had been quite straight-forward about wanting to tell him the origin of the pyramid. Did he know something Hermione didn't (which would be a small miracle) or had he simply been talking nonsense? He smiled sheepishly at Hermione. "I suppose this is what you get when you skip the guided tour. I'll ask Bill when he comes back."
Hermione nodded. "Tell him that Gringotts is still sending him letters, too. They're just delivering them to Mrs. Weasley instead. I think the goblins are miffed that one of their own would go to Egypt and not break curses for them while he's there." She smiled. "Take care of yourself, will you?"
"Of course," Harry said. He blinked as he heard a scratching noise that he vaguely recognized. "Did you hear that? Is Crookshanks tearing up the place again?"
"Hear what?" Hermione wondered, and Harry glanced around the tent carefully. That scratching sound had come from awfully close, if it hadn't come from Hermione's end. "Harry?"
"Hold on, there's something here..." Harry crouched down, pulling the blanket up from his bed and peering under it. Two bright eyes stared at him, seeming to glow with an inner light in the shadow. Harry smiled as he held out his hand carefully. "Come on then, this is no place for an animal."
The cat purred softly as it slowly edged forward, and Harry smiled good-naturedly at it. This was a little better than the last few times he'd heard odd noises in his tent, when it'd turned out that the refreshing cooling spells cast on it attracted all sorts of creepy crawly wildlife. The time a cobra had managed to make its way in (despite numerous protective spells) he'd almost wished he could still speak Parseltongue.
"Harry, are you still there?"
He glanced up, grabbing the mirror from the bed again. "Sorry, I just found an uninvited guest." He turned the mirror towards the beautiful black cat, which shrank back. "Do you suppose he brings bad luck?"
Hermione scoffed, and the cat cast a distrustful look towards the mirror before edging away. It made an odd noise – it almost sounded like chirping - and Harry cast a confused look at the mirror. That was definitely not a noise he'd heard a cat make before. Hermione's eyes widened in recognition. "Harry, it's an Egyptian Mau! Those are pretty hard to come by, you know. Quite a rare breed: Supposedly they're one of the most ancient breeds of cats in the world, thousands of years old. Maybe you should find out if it belongs to anyone?"
"It's not wearing any identification," Harry muttered distractedly, luring it forward again. "Come out, it's okay…"
The cat hissed warningly, jumping right at the friendly hand with claws extended. Harry flinched back as its claws raked past his arm, drawing blood, before it dashed towards the tent-flap, staring back at him with those bright, shining eyes. Hermione asked something, but he'd dropped her painting face-down on the ground and it sounded rather muffled. The cat carelessly licked drops of blood from its claws.
"That hurt," Harry complained as he took in the scratch marks. His arm had taken quite a beating – four bright lines traced across his entire forearm, two of them bleeding slightly. Harry pulled out his wand and quickly went through the healing spells he knew, but none of them did much.
Then an intense feeling of weakness radiated out from the wounds up his arm, and he almost dropped his wand right then and there. That was familiar. Way too familiar. "Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, quickly turning over the mirror. "Hermione, there's no such thing as venomous cats, right?" He finally closed the scratches with his wand, but another spark of pain travelled through the limb. The cold sensation reminded him far too much of the Basilisk's bite in second year. "Magical cats, maybe?"
"Venomous?" Hermione repeated, blinking. "Not that I know of, beyond the Nundu, and I think you'd recognize those. What did you do?"
"The cat, it scratched me," Harry muttered, rubbing his arm. "Bloody hell, it's painful." He held his arm up to the mirror and blanched. Right where he'd been scratched the skin was swelling up, ugly and red, oozing more blood than it had at first. He heard a gasp from the mirror, and looked into it. "Hermione, whatever it was, it got me with something. Where can I find a healer?" He blinked, realizing that things were wobbling around him, and he was feeling a little drowsy. Fearfully, he clasped the mirror tight. "Something is really wrong, I think!"
"There's no floo anywhere near you… oh, I know someone who could make a Portkey! I'm going to find someone, hold on!" She dropped the mirror, and Harry sighed as her face vanished. That blasted cat was still there, though, staring at him from just outside the tent, its luminous eyes fixed on him. Harry grabbed his wand and aimed. "Stupefy!"
He missed. The animal was agile enough to get out of the way in time, and Harry was after it with his wand out, forcing himself to ignore the pain. He needed to catch it, he was sure of that. If there was no such thing as a venomous cat, even a magical one, then someone had enchanted the creature, or dipped its claws in poison. He'd need a sample. His entire forearm had swollen up now, far too quickly for any Muggle malady. This had to be magical. Harry almost collapsed at the sudden return to the heat outside, but this time he could cast a Cooling Charm. Small comforts.
The cat sat a little distance away, licking its paw as if there was nothing wrong. A second Stunner was no more successful than the first as it quickly darted away, and Harry cursed loudly. His eyes were wandering off target and his vision got blurry. His head began beating like a drum. Was it really Basilisk venom? He realized uncomfortably that the symptoms were awfully similar. He looked again at the gashes on his arm. They had reopened, and looked worse than ever.
Harry turned to look blearily at the one who'd spoken. With a start he realized it was the same man that he'd met earlier. Khnurn had been his name, or something similar. "You – help me catch that cat! It…" he paused. "I…" He didn't remember why he'd been chasing it. What had he been doing? His eyes wandered after the animal, and he saw it sitting on a low stone wall, its eyes bright. He was sure it was laughing. Why was it laughing? Harry shook his head, trying to focus. Why was everything getting so dark? This wasn't right. He was sick – he needed… "Help…"
The last thing he saw before he collapsed was Khnurn's sardonic smile. "You'll be fine. For every joy there is a price to be paid. We'll meet again."
Khnurn had been there, when he'd collapsed, as well as that blasted cat. He still didn't know what those words had meant, that he'd said at the end. Had Khnurn been the one who put that nasty cat in his tent? Harry looked around and noticed that Ahaneith had left him to his memories; even the cat had left him alone. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to concentrate on what had happened, but the details were slipping away from him. Less than five minutes later, he was asleep once more.
He spent the better part of a week in bed, barely moving more than he had to, thinking about what had happened and wondering why nobody had found him yet. He'd tried to send a Patronus to Bill and Ron when there was nobody around, but the spell wouldn't work. It wasn't until today that he'd dared to try and step beyond the bed. He felt much better physically, but looking at the fact that his host was obviously underfed and not looking too healthy herself, he did feel guilty about taking up her space for so long. Had he been sleeping in her bed all this time?
It was getting dark, and Harry distractedly lighted his wand so he could continue his work of cleaning up after himself, trying not to think of the fact that he reeked terribly. Ahaneith had a few personal effects – he'd scrounged up a few dull coins and stacked hem on the little stack of clay that served as a side-table, and there were a few odds and ends spread around the room. Still, she didn't have more than perhaps three sets of clothes, and he wasn't sure if that was an exaggeration, as one or two of what he thought as robes might be an excuse for a blanket. Whatever he was wearing was definitely not hers, at least, since he was considerably taller than her, and it was still on the long side.
"Heru," spoke a voice, and Harry turned to find Ahaneith staring at him with open mouth – well, not at him, but at his illuminated wand. Shit - she was a Muggle.
"Nox!" Harry said quickly and the light vanished - too little, too late. His host immediately said something in a pleading tone, and she grasped his wand hand, gesturing to the sky. The damage was done, now. Harry glanced outside into the gloom, but there were few people around. He supposed if he kept the spell at a low luminosity, they wouldn't think it was anything more than a fire or light bulb. He sighed and nodded. "Lumos."
Ahaneith stared with wide-eyed fascination at the magical light, glancing between it and its caster with a look that Harry didn't quite recognize, but was most definitely nervous about. She chattered on about something but Harry couldn't make heads or tails of it, and he lowered his wand to his side. It was all well and good that she'd spotted him using magic, but he didn't know how to obliviate someone; he was certainly not going to try after he saw what happened to Lockhart. Probably the Egyptian Aurors would have to take care of it, he supposed, though he had no idea how to contact them without finding other wizards first.
"Heru," Ahaneith said again, and Harry frowned.
"What is it? Should I put it out?"
She stepped aside, and the tall man he vaguely remembered stepped up beside her, staring at the lighted wand as well. He only had no shirt on, though he was wearing several long necklaces with small multi-coloured baubles on them. Strapped on his thigh was a small hammer. Harry sighed as his problem spread itself; he really shouldn't have recast his Lumos. The tall man stared at him, and then turned to Ahaneith. Harry wondered if the man was her husband; he wasn't around much if that was the case.
Whatever she said, it had some effect on him, as he glanced at Harry a few times with uncertainty. He heard his name come past a few times, and began to seriously doubt that it was Arabic. It was far choppier than he remembered from the few times he'd heard the language spoken. Then, the man did something incredible. Despite being at least a head taller than him and twice as wide, he sank to his knees, saying 'Heru' with something he now definitely recognized. Awe. Reverence. As if it was a sacred name.
Harry staggered back, and winced. "Bloody hell. Did I just start a religion?"
Author's Note: A little side-something that's probably going to be irregularly updated on the side while I work on Wand and Shield and The Leaf's Naruto. (DSHND and Torikaeru are similary irregular atm. :P)
Something that I'd going around my head for a while, but I never got around to writing it. Though it's not clear at this point yet, this is a variation of the same general plot idea that "Voldemort's Last Spell" and a few other stories went for. E.g. the Harry Potter living through history one, though timetravel involves neither time-turners nor the veil. The time of insertion, if you will, is first dynasty of Egypt, during the beginning of Pharaoh Djer's reign, which places this about 3045 B.C. outside the flashbacks.
Those that are into their Egyptian mythology may find that I am taking some actual names and characters from ancient history, though I have taken a few liberties in areas we know little to nothing. Especially where magic is concerned, of course.