Author's Note: Another update. As I said, you guys need to catch up to me. Thanks for the reviews everyone and, of course, thank you Charmaine for reading these over for me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
IMHOTEP RAMESES
"Xerophytes, that's what we're talking about today," Professor Sprout was saying the first day of December, when the seventh-year Herbology students were moving on to something new. "First though, who here can tell me what a xerophyte is?" Unsurprising, Hermione's hand shot into the air. "Yes, Miss Granger?"
"A xerophyte is a plant that is adapted to living in dry and arid habitats. In other words, a desert," Hermione said.
"Excellent. Five points to Gryffindor," Professor Sprout said. "That is why we're in Greenhouse Five today, seventh years. This is our most arid of greenhouses and so all of our desert plants grow here, including one plant that you might want to look out for, the Shooting Cactus. It's over there, in the corner.
"Today, however, we're going to be working with prickly pears. Professor Snape is running low of the juice that the pears make and, as I've got a bunch that are in dire need of a good juicing, I thought we'd have at it today. You'll need your dragon hide gloves today as the spines of the fruit come out very, very easily. I don't want anyone's fingers to start bleeding. So, groups of four, grab a basket and start trimming the fruit from the cacti, then go back to your table and juice them. I've got chocolate frogs for the group that gets the most juice!"
Neville, as always, joined Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Together they began trimming the prickly pears from their respective cacti. They did very well, filling up their basket quickly. The only incident they had was when Ron, reaching over a cactus, accidentally got a spine lodged into his upper forearm and had to, in what looked to be a very painful move, pull it out. Hermione then quickly got her wand out and, with a tap, stopped the bleeding.
Juicing them, Harry found, was rather easy. With a knife, each of them simply stabbed a hole into the pear and then squeezed them, ignoring the bumpy feel of the spines that couldn't affect them through their dragon hide gloves. Neville even voiced this thought.
"It's kind of odd, isn't it, that she's having us juice prickly pears," he said. "I'm surprised she didn't save this for the second or third years and let us work with something more interesting, like that Shooting Cactus over there. After all, that thing has to be drained every month or it will shoot all of its spines off at once, kind of like an explosion, because it's bursting with water."
"Maybe it's not ready to be-er-drained," Ron said, glancing over at the Shooting Cactus with a look that clearly said that he didn't want to be anywhere near the thing.
After class (Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, and Susan Bones barely beat Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville for the chocolate frogs), they headed up to Professor Flitwick's class for Charms, where he showed them a useful charm that would help a person breathe.
"It's good for when someone's choking on a piece of food or has taken in too much water while swimming," Flitwick said in his tiny, squeaky voice.
He had them practice on each other, which didn't really show the full effect of the charm due to the fact that none of them were actually choking.
"This is boring," Malfoy said loudly. "Isn't there a spell to stop a person from breathing?"
Flitwick looked highly alarmed. "Well, yes, of course," he squeaked. "But it's considered Dark magic. I wouldn't dare show you!"
"He'd love to know that, wouldn't he?" Ron muttered to Harry. "I bet he'd love to know anything and everything about Dark magic."
Harry nodded.
After lunch was Potions. Harry and Hermione grudgingly left Ron to walk up to the common room and enjoy his afternoon while they trudged off to the dungeons. It was particularly cold down there now, so much so that Harry would see his breath whenever he exhaled.
Hermione shivered beside him while they waited in line for class to begin. "You'd think they'd use a Warming Spell down here, wouldn't you," she said, her teeth chattering.
"Knowing Snape, he probably loves the cold. The more tortured all of us are, the happier he is," Harry muttered.
Snape was his usual sneering self. The seventh years were in the middle of working on a rather deadly poison that caused the drinker's heart to stop beating. It took a little over two weeks to brew the poison, which was supposed to end up looking a pale red. Currently, Harry's looked a deep shade of magenta. Hermione's was a light pink.
Snape swept past, caught sight of Harry's poison, and smirked, putting Harry in a bad mood. He continued stirring the poison like his book instructed, glancing over at Hermione. She gave him a small smile. When Snape was out of earshot, he whispered, "What have I done wrong?"
"I suspect you might have used a little too much frog secretion," Hermione said. "It was a tricky measurement."
Harry sighed. Snape was surely going to give him a "P" on this assignment.
When Harry and Hermione returned to the common room, Ron sat in his favorite chair, looking rather pleased with himself. "Hey, how was Potions?" he asked.
"The usual," Harry said, sitting down in an armchair near him. "You look happy."
"Not having to deal with Snape always makes me happy," Ron said.
"Rub it in our faces, why don't you," Harry muttered. "What's up?"
"Lavender and I are going on another date," he told them.
Ron's first date with Lavender had apparently gone very well. He and Lavender had spent the whole time outside, building a snowman before getting into a snowball fight with Neville and Ginny, who were also outside enjoying the cold weather. Then, after they were completely soaked and freezing, Ron and Lavender went down to the kitchens and warmed up by the fire, eating sandwiches that the house-elves whipped up for them (something that had Hermione tutting when she heard about it). The date had ended with the two of them walking back to the common room, but before Ron had been able to utter the password, Lavender kissed him.
"Now I understand what all the excitement's about," Ron had told them.
"When is your next date?" Hermione was asking him now.
"The next Hogsmeade weekend," he replied, then lowered his voice. "Which will work out well for the two of you, won't it? I mean, you two can go on a date too. It won't look suspicious for you two to be alone if I'm on a date."
Harry looked over at Hermione and grinned. "He's got a point."
"He sure does," Hermione said, grinning back. "It sounds quite lovely, in fact."
Ron nodded. "I thought you two would like that."
"The next Hogsmeade weekend is another two weeks away," Hermione said. "The weekend leading up to the Yule Ball."
"Plenty of time to plan, then," Harry said. Such as when and where he and Hermione could spend some time snogging.
*****
In Transfiguration the next morning, Professor McGonagall gave them a pop quiz, causing everyone but Hermione to groan. Each of them had to change the look of their faces until they were almost unrecognizable. Harry changed his hair color to a light brown, his eyes to a deep blue, and was able to make his chin more pronounced, earning him an "E."
Ron, meanwhile, somehow managed to turn his hair a revolting lime green and caused his nose to swell up. Professor McGonagall gave him an "A," stating that, even though it was a haphazard job and that his freckles were a dead giveaway, he had still managed to change his appearance, which was more than what Neville could say. Neville was only able to change his eye color from their usual brown to a harsh orange.
Unsurprising, Hermione did the best, changing not only her hair color to a steely gray, but also its style. It went from completely bushy to thin and straggly. Her eyes became hazel, her cheeks became sallower, and she was also able to add laugh lines and crow's feet, ultimately making her look like an old woman with a teenager's body. Professor McGonagall gave her a small smile and a nod of approval before giving her an "O."
"Continue to practice facial transfiguration," Professor McGonagall said at the end of class as everyone began to file out, but before Harry had a chance to, she called, "Potter, stay here a moment."
Wondering if he had done something, he nodded to Ron and Hermione, indicating that they should go on to their next class without him before turning back and walking up to Professor McGonagall's desk. "Yes, professor?"
"I have a note for you from Professor Dumbledore," she said, handing him an elaborately folded piece of parchment. "He handed it to me early this morning before he left."
"Left?" Harry repeated. "He's gone?"
"Yes," Professor McGonagall replied.
"Where did he go?" Harry asked.
Professor McGonagall pursed her lips. "That is none of your business, Potter. The only thing you need to worry about is that note, am I making myself clear?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said.
"Good, now run along."
Walking toward his next class, Harry opened the note and read it quickly. It wasn't anything surprising; it just informed Harry that his lesson for that evening with Dumbledore had been canceled.
No kidding, thought Harry as he shredded the note and threw it away. What could Dumbledore possibly be up to, he wondered.
Whatever it was, he mused, it had to be very important. Dumbledore wouldn't leave the school unless he thought it was. Maybe the Order had discovered something and Dumbledore was going to investigate. Maybe they captured a Death Eater. No, maybe they had captured Wormtail, stopping him from raising an army of Inferi. The thought made him grin. Now that would be an excellent reason to leave the school.
*****
"Today we're starting a new topic," Professor Lupin was saying the following day in Defense Against the Dark Arts. "I'm sure everyone in here is aware of the fact that Lord Voldemort-" All of the students in the class, except for Harry and Hermione, cringed. "-is using vampires in his army. We're going to be spending our time before and after the Christmas holiday discussing the characteristics of vampires, how they look and act, and the more practical lessons of how to ward them off. I say ward them off because vampires are very hard to kill. Who here can tell me one of the ways to kill a vampire?" Several hands were raised. "Yes, Miss Patil?"
"Shove a piece of wood through their heart," Parvati Patil said.
"Good. How else? Mr. Boot?"
"Throw them into sunlight," Terry Boot said.
"Yes. What else? Mr. Nott?"
"Decapitate them!" Nott said gleefully.
"Yes, which, incidentally, is the bloodiest way to kill a vampire and hardest to do. But come now, there's one more, what is it?" Lupin said as Hermione raised her hand even higher. "Miss Granger, please inform them."
"Douse the vampire in holy water," she answered. "It scalds them to death."
"Good. So, let's see, that's ten points to Gryffindor, five to Ravenclaw, and five to Slytherin. Now, let's get started by talking about how vampires look," Lupin said, sitting down. "For the most part, vampires look just like you and me. A vampire's eyes, however, tend to look paler than normal eye colors. Their skin looks sort of waxy and translucent. Then, of course, their most distinguishing and famous feature are their fangs. Their canines are twice the size of regular adult-sized canine teeth and they are sharper than the point of a knife. These teeth can penetrate anything, the exception being all metals and some Muggle-made alloys. In other words, flesh is nothing to them. Anyone want to divulge why vampires prefer to bite the necks of humans instead of other places, like the arm, or the leg?"
Hermione's hand shot into the air. When Lupin nodded at her, she explained, "Vampires would much prefer to bite their victims in the neck because that's the most accessible area of the Carotid artery."
Lupin smiled. "You are, as always, correct, Miss Granger. Another five points to Gryffindor. So, as Miss Granger explained it, the Carotid artery in your neck is the easiest part of the human body for a vampire to feast on, since the Carotid artery carries fresh oxygenated blood from the heart to the brain. When vampires are unable to hunt down humans, they resort to pig and cow's blood. They would much rather feast on human blood, though. Apparently it's less bland." He shrugged.
Dean Thomas raised his hand. "Sir, do you know any vampires?"
"I've met a few," Lupin replied. "But their type and my type don't mingle very well."
"Because you're after the same prey?" said Malfoy's drawling voice from the back of the room.
Lupin frowned. "Vampires and werewolves both prefer to hunt humans, yes. Werewolves, as it were, only hunt humans. That is, they only hunt humans when they have transformed during the full moon." Ernie Macmillan raised his hand. "Yes, Mr. Macmillan?"
"Do you have any pictures of vampires so that we can take a good look at them, professor?" he asked.
"No, I don't. In fact, no one does. Can anyone here tell me why?" Lupin asked.
Hermione raised her hand yet again. When Lupin called her name, she said, "Vampires simply do not appear in photographs, just like they don't have a reflection. You can take thousands of pictures of them, but they won't show up on the film. You can try to draw a picture of one, but you can't photograph one."
Lupin nodded gravely. "Precisely." He stood up. "Let's move on to where vampires can be found. There is a great concentration of them in Romania, which have been recruited to come here to fight in the war. Vampires, however, can be found all over the world. Yes, the majority of them can be found in Eastern Europe, but there are a slew of them in India, Russia, China, Australia, and the Americas, just to name a few places. Incidentally, the American cities of New York and Los Angeles have more vampires reportedly in them than all of the cities in Britain combined. That's why Voldemort-" The class shuddered again. "-had to recruit from outside our borders.
"Before we leave for today, though, I would like to implore you to remember that not all vampires are the bloodthirsty demons Muggle lore has made them out to be. Some choose to fight their instincts and drink only the blood of cows and pigs, occasionally also munching on blood-flavored lollipops. Not every vampire is in league with Lord Voldemort.
"That said, I would like a two-parchment long essay on the whereabouts of the largest concentrations of vampires today, along with a world map to exhibit this. See you Friday."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione gathered up their things and headed out the door. To Harry's surprise, Lavender and Parvati idled up next to them. "Do you think what Professor Lupin said is true?" Lavender asked. "That not all vampires are bad?"
"I've heard nasty stories about them," Ron said. "They don't have the most pleasant disposition."
"None of the ones I ran into seemed very nice," Harry said, remembering a night one year ago when he encountered a group of vampires attacking Ottery St. Catchpole. "But I imagine there are a few-er-tamer ones out there, as Professor Lupin suggests. After all, why would he say that unless it was true?"
Hermione nodded. "It's his job to prepare us for anything dealing with the Dark Arts in the future. He wouldn't have said that unless it were true."
"But what if," Lavender said conspiratorially, "Lupin's in league with the vampires and You-Know-Who? He's a werewolf, after all, and it wouldn't be the first time Dumbledore's let somebody-"
"He's not working for Voldemort," Harry snapped.
Lavender shuddered at the mention of his name and then looked up at Ron for support, only she didn't get any.
"Harry's right. We know Lupin. He would never work for You-Know-Who. He'd rather kill himself," Ron said.
Lavender was looking extremely moody. "There's something suspicious about him. Why didn't he continue to teach us during our fourth and fifth years? Why'd he leave?"
"Because people found out that he's a werewolf," Harry said irritably. He had always considered Lavender to be a bit of an airhead, what with her love for Divination and her worship of Professor Trelawney, but now he was starting to consider her downright ditzy. It was like things went in one ear and right back out the other; she didn't retain anything. Harry didn't think he could handle it if Ron developed true feelings for her.
"Parents didn't want their children to be taught by a werewolf," Hermione said and Harry was pleased to see that she looked rather annoyed as well. "So when it was leaked that he was one, he left so that students wouldn't be taken out of school in protest."
"Then why is he back?" Lavender asked.
"He's back because Dumbledore demanded it," Hermione said. "He needed a good Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and Lupin was the man for the job, whether parents like it or not. Really, Lupin is a good man. There's not a cruel or sadistic bone in his body. If anyone hates him for what he is, then they're just a bigot."
Lavender looked extremely put out. "Parvati and I need to go. We've got Divination with Professor Trelawney. I'm so happy to have her as a professor this year. Firenze is nice, but Professor Trelawney is a sweetheart and knows exactly what she's talking about. Firenze only interprets the stars."
"Uh-huh. Well, have a nice class," Harry said, happy to be rid of the two of them.
Ron shook his head when Lavender and Parvati were out of eyesight. "She's a bit nutty, don't you think?"
"Is that the way you talk about your girlfriend behind her back?" Hermione asked. "You're nice."
"What? It's true, isn't it? But she is a good kisser," Ron said thoughtfully.
She rounded on him. "Is that the only reason why you're dating her? For kissing practice?" she asked, outraged.
"Well, it's not like I really fancy her," Ron said. "I could, I mean, with time. I could learn to fancy her. She's not bad on the eyes by any means. But-" He was cut off by Hermione frustrated growl.
"Men," was all she muttered before storming away.
Ron glanced at Harry. "What did I say?"
Harry shrugged. "I think she thinks you're using Lavender."
"If I was, why would she care? She and Lavender aren't the best of friends."
"I dunno," Harry replied.
Ron shook his head in disbelief. "Women."
*****
Hermione didn't speak to Ron for the next few days and Ron responded likewise. What really set Harry off was, while they were in the library doing their homework, Ron had asked him to ask Hermione if he could borrow her ruler to measure the length of his assignment.
"For Merlin's sake, just use mine," Harry growled, shoving his ruler at him.
"Take it easy, mate. I just asked a question," Ron said.
"No, you asked me to ask Hermione something when she's sitting right here!" Harry said. "Her hearing's good-she'll hear you, so don't ask me to ask her anything."
Ron looked highly affronted and muttered, "All I did was ask for a ruler. You didn't have to bite my head off."
Harry slammed his book closed and rolled up his parchment. "That's it. I'm going back to the common room to finish this essay and I'd prefer not to see either of you until you have this stupid spat of yours dealt with. I'm sick of being in the middle of your feuding." With that, he threw everything into his bag and left them there, stunned and looking rather guilty.
Up the staircases he climbed until he reached Gryffindor Tower, where he mumbled the password to the Fat Lady ("Water lily") and walked into the common room. Some third years were over by the fireplace, warming up after either their Herbology or Care of Magical Creatures class, he assumed. In the back corner, Hunter Farrell and Dylan Brown were both talking animatedly, apparently telling a story to their friends Ally Warrick, Laura MacKenzie, and the first year Tara Ryder, who seemed to have joined their little quartet over the past few months. Closer to the table where Harry plopped down his bag, Colin Creevey and his little brother Dennis were examining some photographs that Colin had recently taken. When they saw Harry, Colin and Dennis both grinned and ambled over to him.
"Hiya, Harry!" Colin said.
"Hello," Harry muttered, not in the mood to talk to him.
"I've just finished developing some pictures both Dennis and I took," Colin told him, flipping through the stack. "Look, Dennis took a bunch from the Quidditch match."
"I think I did a good job," Dennis said, who was now a fourth year.
To humor them, Harry glanced through the stack of photos. There was a really good one of him, rain soaked, soaring through the air and catching the Golden Snitch.
"You can keep that one, if you want," Colin said.
Harry went to the next one, which was of him celebrating with Ron before hugging Hermione. It brought a smile to his face, even though he was annoyed with the two of them.
"Can I keep them both?" he asked Colin.
"Sure," Colin said. "There was one in here too of Ron making a nice save. I'll have to show it to him when he comes back."
He nodded. "You do that."
Later, after Harry had gone up the dormitory for the night, Ron walked in and dropped his stuff. He glanced over at Harry sheepishly. "Hermione and I stopped fighting," he informed Harry. "We got kicked out of the library by Madam Pince because our discussion got a little heated, but we finished it up and came back. Are you down for the night?"
"Yeah," Harry murmured, putting his Charms book down. "I'm going to sleep."
"Okay. I've got to go back downstairs and finish my essay. Hermione and I argued so much it never got finished," Ron said. "See you in the morning."
Harry nodded. "Yeah."
It took awhile before Harry fell asleep. He was slightly irritated by the fact that Ron and Hermione had argued for so long. What was it about the two of them that made them need to bicker so much? Sometimes they argued so much and with such venom that Harry wondered whether or not their friendship could be repaired. Even his arguments with either of them (granted, he argued a lot less with Hermione than with Ron) could turn into hissing and spitting contests.
That's what happens when three stubborn people become friends, was the last thing Harry thought before he drifted off to sleep.
He was standing in a meadow, gazing around. Suddenly, a raw egg hit him in the face. He whirled around, trying to see where it came from.
"Sorry, mate!" came Ron's voice from the trees surrounding the meadow. "I wasn't aiming at you."
Harry felt something hard hit the back of his head and break. He turned and saw Hermione at the edge of the trees, cringing.
"I'm sorry, Harry. I was trying to hit Ron."
Ron emerged from the trees and lobbed another egg at Hermione, but it fell sort and hit Harry on the top of his head.
"Sorry!"
Another one, sent from Hermione, hit his shoulder.
"Sorry!"
Yet, instead of stopping, they continued on and each time they missed and hit Harry instead. There was nothing he could do to stop them. They just kept trying to throw eggs at each other.
He spat out a mouthful of yolk and tried to speak, but got hit again on the ear.
"Sorry!" Ron yelled.
He couldn't walk away. Whenever he moved, so did Ron and Hermione.
"ENOUGH!" he finally cried. He marched over to Ron. "Leave her alone."
"She started it!" Ron whined. "All I did was throw an egg in her direction."
With an exasperated sigh, the meadow melted away and Harry suddenly found himself in a strangely familiar room, sitting in a high-backed chair. Before him were three young men, on their knees and their noses practically being pressed into the floor.
"So, you have finally returned," he said in a cold voice.
"Master, please forgive us our delay," the one in the middle said, speaking to the floor.
"I sent you on this mission in July. It is now December. You have wasted valuable time," Harry said, his voice even colder.
"I'm sorry, Master," the one on the left said.
"Forgive us, Master," the middle one said.
"Be merciful, Master," the one of the right said.
"Merciful, Warrington? You want mercy? Very well." He raised his wand.
"Master, please!" Warrington cried. "I beg of you, hear us out."
"You asked for mercy, Warrington," Harry said. "Mercy is death, compared to the other torments I could give you. Do you not consider death to be merciful?"
Warrington gulped and then boldly replied, "No, Master."
Harry's eyes narrowed. "Very well. Crucio!" The other two jerked away as Warrington screamed and twitched violently. Harry lazily lowered his wand. He got up and bent down over Warrington, murmuring, "Was that merciful enough for you?"
Warrington was gasping for air. "Yes, Master."
He sat back down. "Now, Flint, tell me why it took you just under five months to complete the task I gave you."
Marcus Flint, the one in the middle, raised himself so that he was only on his knees. "Master, we arrived in Egypt and began our search for Imhotep Rameses, just as you had demanded. The search, however, took longer than we anticipated. Mr. Rameses keeps himself well hidden from both Muggles and wizards. It took several weeks just to gather enough information as to where Mr. Rameses could be located.
"When we finally found his lair, we would not be admitted to see him. We told his apprentice that we were sent by the Dark Lord, but he told us that Mr. Rameses would see no visitors or hear no requests. Finally, after three months of returning each day, pleading and threatening to be let in, we were taken before Mr. Rameses, who heard our request and immediately sent us away. It took two more weeks to get back in, Master. We brought him a gift and told him that you would reward him richly if he would beckon to your call, but still he refused. Another two weeks went by and we were admitted again, bringing more gifts to him. He finally spoke to us that day, saying that he would consider your offer to join him and that he would send for us when he had an answer. Master, it was nearly a month before he called us before him. We brought him yet another gift and he finally, finally consented to join us. He gathered up his things and then we were able to return to you, Master."
"Where is he now?" Harry asked.
"Outside, Master. Waiting to be brought in before you," Flint replied.
Harry stared at them. "Then why are you in here? Bring him to me!"
The three of them scrambled to their feet and bolted out the door. Harry waited for a full minute, tapping his long, white fingers on the arm of his chair, feeling more annoyed by the second. Finally, Flint and the other Death Eater, Montague, opened the doors and bowed deeply.
"My master, may I present to you Imhotep Rameses," Flint said in an oily voice.
Harry gazed at the old man walking into the room, using a cane that looked like an Egyptian asp whose eyes were made out of rubies that looked like scarab beetles. His light brown face was pointed and he was completely hairless except for a small, white, triangular goatee just above his chin. His eyes were blacker than the night sky.
He walked up to Harry and gave a short bow before saying in a reedy, accented voice, "My lord."
"Imhotep Rameses," Harry said, surveying the old man. "The greatest of Egyptian curse casters."
"You flatter me, my lord," Rameses said.
Harry looked beyond the old man and addressed his young servants. "Leave us." Flint and Montague bowed and left, closing the door behind them. Harry turned back to Rameses. "I am quite disappointed to hear how long it took my servants to convince you to come to me."
Rameses smiled. "To be honest, my lord, I did not believe they were sent by you at first." He looked around. "Is there a place I might be able to sit down? My old legs can't take standing much longer."
Harry pulled out his wand and waved it, conjuring up a wooden chair with a padded seat. "Any other requests?"
"Water, if you wouldn't mind," he said.
With another wave, Harry conjured up a glass of water.
"Thank you," Rameses said. "It has been a long journey."
"I imagine so," Harry said, watching him carefully.
"Now, what were we discussing?" Rameses asked.
"You didn't believe the servants I had sent to you," Harry prompted.
"Right. What can I say, my lord? I am used to distinguished, proven wizards knocking on my door, asking for my help. You sent me three children, barely legal. I must admit, I was rather offended," Rameses said stiffly.
"Certainly you understand how busy I am," Harry said. "My other servants, the older and more distinguished ones, are preparing for an assignment I've recently given them even as we speak. The three servants I sent to you desperately wanted to represent me. They were aching to be of service to me."
"They certainly weren't much of service to me," Rameses said. "I specifically told them that I wanted my apprentice, Abdul Jabbar, to accompany me on this trip. He is a talented student and would have benefited a great deal from aiding me in doing whatever it is you want me to do."
"Is he absolutely necessary for you to be able to perform your work?" Harry asked.
"Not absolutely necessary, no. He does, however, narrow research time and makes it easier to prepare for whatever it is I have to do. Speaking of which," Rameses said, "I believe it is about time you told me why you have asked for me to come, my lord."
"I will have him sent for," Harry said. "As to why you're here, the answer is very simple. I have use of your abilities."
Rameses's eyes glittered. "What would you like me to curse?"
"You have a great gift for languages, I am told," Harry went on. "Arabic, Ancient Egyptian, Farsi, Greek, Ancient Greek, Latin, Italian, French, Spanish, English, German, Swahili, Russian…a very extensive list."
"You forgot Chinese, Japanese, Hebrew, and, of course, Persian and Ancient Sumerian. I can also read and write in Cuneiform."
"As I said, you have a gift for languages," Harry said.
"Thank you, my lord. I take it you would like a combination of all of these for whatever I'm cursing?" Rameses asked. "What am I cursing, anyway, my lord?
He gave the old man a sinister smile. "Nothing."
"Nothing? My lord, if you don't want me to curse something, then why have you brought me here? I have plenty of tombs back in Egypt that I can study and maintain so that those idiot curse breakers from around the world can't get into them. After all, I have a perfect record," Rameses said haughtily.
"I have no intention of you creating a curse for me, Rameses. Rather, I have something much more important and difficult for you to do. I want you to study and…" He trailed off and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he got up. "Stay here," he ordered. "We will continue this discussion when I return. I have to rid myself of something."
He marched out of the room. Death Eaters were waiting around, interesting in his meeting. "Flint!" he said, eyeing all of the Death Eaters malevolently, causing all of them to leave his presence.
Marcus Flint stepped out of the shadows and bowed. "Master?"
"Return to Egypt and bring back Rameses's apprentice," Harry ordered. "And be quick about it."
"Yes, Master!" Flint said and, with a CRACK, Disapperated.
Alone, Harry stood in the middle of the dark room, his head bowed. "I think you've learned quite enough, Potter. You should know better than to wander in my head. It comes with a price." With that, he touched his forehead.
Back in the dormitory, Harry woke up, screaming as it felt as though his scar was trying to rip his head in two.
Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean were all at his side in moments. "Harry, what is it?" Ron asked, looking terrified.
"SCAR!" Harry cried out. Then he succumbed to the pain and the blackness that followed.