The Wizard From Earth by Morta's Priest

Chapter 1 - The Cat

He hurt everywhere. Harry tried to get to his feet, but the world wouldn't stop spinning, and he collapsed again. His eyes wouldn't open; it felt like they were stitched shut. He tried to speak, but nothing would come out.

Someone was speaking. He didn't know what they were saying, but he focused on the feminine tones to try and make out something. Definitely not English. Probably some form of Arabic, then, considering where he was. Cold hands touched his eyes and Harry winced as a spike of pain ran from his head to his toes and back. His skin was sensitive to the touch; very sensitive. He wondered briefly if he'd managed to contract some horrible disease without realizing it.

Two shining eyes. He remembered those. There had been glowing yellow eyes, staring at him from the darkness. When had he seen that? He didn't know why that memory was so strong, but it stood out. He tried to move his arms, and found to his relief that he was holding his wand. His hand was cramped around it tightly, and he couldn't loosen his fingers.

The woman spoke again, and her tone was soothing. Cold water was poured over his face, and though it prickled uncomfortably on his skin, it brought some relief from the brooding heat. He tried to blink again, and found that a sliver of light occasionally broke through, those it seemed unbelievably distant.

Where had he been? What happened? He tried to remember. He'd been in Egypt, yes. He'd been somewhere in Egypt. 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. Bill. Bill Weasley, curse breaker for Gringotts, the husband of Fleur.

That's what had happened. He'd been at a pyramid, one of the big ones in Egypt, during his vacation before he'd go back to Auror training. Right, he remembered now, he'd been standing in an abandoned hallway, all alone...

Where the hell were the others?

Harry rubbed his head tiredly. Bill Weasley's pitch had been quite convincing, true, talking 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. It'd seemed quite convincing at the time.

Bill hadn't mentioned the scorpions. Or the snakes. Or the fact that sand got absolutely everywhere. What's worse was that half the time using a spell to remove it could be fatal, around here. A lot of the defences left behind by ancient wizards reacted to spells being cast, and even the mildest were highly inconvenient, which was why spell-casting was only left to those actually working at the site.

Harry stared around at the poorly lit corridor with a frown. He'd gotten lost. Or, technically, the others had gotten lost, since he had no idea where Bill or Ron were, and a pretty good idea of his own position. He'd just spotted an interesting hieroglyph, stopped to admire the beautifully carved figures that spanned the entire wall, and when he'd turned around they'd vanished. He'd waited for ten minutes, whistling idly to himself. He couldn't use a tracking spell in here, since he'd probably end up mummified alive by a stray curse, and walking further in without a guide was basically suicide, even in one of the better-explored ruins. 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.

"Just fantastic," Harry muttered, ruffling the sand from his hair as he traced his steps back to the outside of the pyramid. He had to take three lefts, then two rights, and then straight on. Not terribly difficult, but he knew that at least two of the side-routes led to most uncomfortable traps that previous explorers had ended up in. At least one of them contained a human skeleton in several different pieces, a large hole in his skull and both kneecaps. Most unpleasant. There was another corridor that allegedly went on forever – at the very least, nobody had yet broken the enchantment that caused that particular effect (and there were many who would love the apparent infinite expansion charm.)

After about ten minutes 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, and he realized uncomfortably that it'd probably be this way for a while, given that he couldn't cast any cooling spells this close to the pyramid. He glanced back at it with a frown; it stretched hundreds of feet into the air and was even wider.

"You're back quite early," A white-clad older man commented with a pronounced accent. Harry vaguely remembered greeting him before he entered the monument, and nodded, joining him under the small sunshade he was using to keep at least moderately cool. The man chuckled softly. "There are many who do not dare to delve deeply into the pyramids. 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 mighty structures were built with magic which is now forgotten. I suppose it is a certain pride, shall we say. They like to think that they're descendants of those ancient wizards, rather than immigrants from later ages." He smiled, and Harry noticed he was missing several teeth.

Harry thought of Hogwarts, and the fact that there were still secrets in that ancient stronghold that people had never known, magic used that few had ever heard of. Even Voldemort himself had been proud of being Slytherin's heir, despite the relatively horrible state that the Gaunt family had been in. The connection, it seemed, had meant more to him than the technicalities. He supposed modern Egyptians too cared more about the connection that they shared this land, rather than the technical fact that the culture had vanished. "I suppose I can understand what you mean. 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 had hoped, and it's perhaps silly of me, that I could just be a tourist here."

"Tourists are alright, but to really understand Egypt, you have to live there, I think." Khnurn 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 hope to visit all sorts of places," Harry admitted. "So... Khnurn," he said hesitantly. "What can you tell me about this place? 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. 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."

"Paying attention in a History of Magic class can be most helpful, true," Khnurn said, smirking. "I've found, though, that it's not knowledge of specific events that helpful in understanding ancient people, rather than their mentality, the way they handled 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. 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, given 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."

"Your ride?"

"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 anyway. 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 out here, in the middle of nowhere?

Finally he turned towards the little village at the foot of the monument, where his tent was. Perhaps he could grab his two-way mirror 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. Was it medicine, perhaps? He tried to say something, but no words would come out. He blearily tried to open his eyes again, coughing. The intense discomfort on his skin was lessening noticeably, now. The swelling on his eyes was finally decreasing too. He'd apparently manage to get his entire body swollen up beyond recognition. What kind of disease did he manage to get? His eyes 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 there. A tall man, too tall for him to make out a face with any detail, but he had dark hair and wore something shiny around his neck. A single time there had been an elderly woman, grey hair tucked behind her ears and her eyes glazed over in blindness. She'd said quite a few things in several different languages. Harry recognized that there were differences, but 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 – well, if he hadn't skipped any while sleeping – that he finally managed to get upright without collapsing. He was wearing some kind of odd robe, brown and tattered around the edges. What remained of his original clothes was in the corner, cut into bits and pieces and spattered with pus and blood. Definitely not something he'd wear again, then. Someone had strapped something on his head. He'd thought that he'd just been bandaged up, but it felt more like a sort of coarse leather, now that he could touch it. Two primitive sandals stood next to the slab he'd been occupying. He couldn't really describe it as a bed; it was barely even raised off the ground, and padded with some kind of straw.

"Where the hell am I?" he asked finally, though it came out in a jumbled heap. It didn't matter – 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.

His head still pounded as he set his first hesitant step the edge of the hut, which was barely kept upright by several wooden beams strapped together with some kind of fabric covering it – really, it barely counted as a proper dwelling. He tried to recall how he'd ended up here, in the care of these 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 rather little. In the distance he could see some kind of monument; an obelisk of some kind. It was rather brightly painted, and Harry frowned.

Suddenly someone grabbed his shoulder, and Harry 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 understand, 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. You had to start somewhere, he supposed. He clumsily imitated her, tapping his chest. "Harry."

She repeated the name, sounding rather different than the way he said it, then 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', since his legs were beginning to throb and his head still felt like it was 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 clearly belonged to someone who lived in poverty, with little in the ways of food and drink, yet Ahaneith, probably 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 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 here.

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.

Suddenly a sound broke the silence, and Harry glanced to Ahaneith, who was looking at the floor. A black cat strode in like it owned the place, placing itself next to the makeshift bed. He remembered this – shining eyes. A cat's eyes. That had been when he was sitting on his bed in the old Weasley tent that Bill had 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, though!" 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. "Just make sure to contact me when Ron gets back – I'll give him an earful." She paused for a moment. "You are enjoying your stay, right? Because if you're just being left behind, it's not much of a vacation."

"Yes, it's 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 religions. It was actually kind of interesting." 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."

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 unknown why it's there. 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, as you've probably figured out."

"Yeah, I knew that much." Harry frowned as he thought back to the meeting with that man. He's 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 tour. I'll ask Bill when he comes back."

Hermione nodded. "Tell him that Gringotts is still sending him letters. 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. "Wait… 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 a wild 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 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 frowned, then her 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 oldest 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…"

Suddenly the cat hissed, jumping right at the friendly hand with claws extended. Harry flinched back as its claws raked past his arm, drawing blood. In an instant it was at the tent-flap, staring at him with those bright eyes. Hermione asked something but he'd dropped her painting face-down on the ground and it sounded distinctly muffled. Harry stared at the cat in consternation as it carelessly licked the drops of blood from its claws.

His arm had taken quite a beating – four bright lines were scratched across his entire fore-arm, two of them bleeding slightly. Harry pulled out his wand and quickly went through the healing spells he knew. Suddenly 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 again. "Hermione, there's not any venomous cats, right?" He closed the scratches with his wand, another spark of pain travelling through the limb. The cold sensation reminded him far too much of the Basilisk's bite in second year, and it was far too quick to be any less potent. "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. Get me a healer!"

"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. He winced as his arm throbbed painfully. That blasted cat was still there, 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, and Harry was after it with his wand out, forcing himself to ignore the pain. He needed to catch it, he was sure. 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, and he'd need a sample. His entire forearm had swollen up, now, far too quickly for any Muggle malady. This was magical. Harry almost collapsed at the sudden return to the heat outside, but this time he could cast a Cooling Charm.

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 had begun beating like a drum, now. Basilisk venom? He realized uncomfortably that the symptoms were awfully similar. He looked again at the gashes on his arm. He really should've healed those: they were huge, now.

"Harry Potter."

Harry turned to look blearily at the one who'd spoken, somewhere to his side. 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, anyway? His eyes wandered after the animal, and he saw the creature 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 vague? This wasn't right. He was sick – he needed… "Help…"

The last thing he saw before he collapsed was Khnurn's sardonic smile. "Don't worry, Harry Potter. You'll be fine. For every joy there is a price to be paid."

Khnurn had been there, when he'd collapsed, and that blasted cat. He still didn't know what those words had meant, that he'd said at the end. Had he been the one that 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. 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 again.

He spent the better part of a week like that, 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 or 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 now 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?

It was getting awfully 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 though; he was considerably taller than her, and it was still on the long side.

"Heru," said a voice, and Harry turned to find Ahaneith staring with open mouth – not at him, but at his wand. She was a Muggle.

"Nox!" Harry said quickly and the light vanished. His host immediately said something in a pleading tone. Harry didn't know what she meant but she stepped forward and grasped his wand hand, gesturing to the sky. Well, 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 lightbulb. 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, frowning. 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 again?"

She stepped aside, and the tall man he vaguely remembered stepped up beside her, staring at the lighted wand as well for a long moment. 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. "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.