Chapter 1
Harry collapsed onto his bed in Gryffindor tower, his mind barely able to process everything that had happened to him and his friends since their ill-fated rescue mission to the Department of Mysteries. Not only had Voldemort possessed him, not only had his friends trusted him and gotten terribly hurt, but it had been for no reason! It had been a trick, all because he wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t smart enough, and now… Now Sirius was dead, and it was all his fault. The fact that Dumbledore had chosen now of all times to tell him the words of a prophecy that had apparently hung over his head this entire time…Harry barely had time and the presence of mind to draw his bed curtains around him before his feverishly overwrought mind finally succumbed to what he was hoping would be a peaceful oblivion. Naturally, this was not what happened.
Instead, Harry found himself on the reed-lined bank of a slow-moving river, the air hot, humid, and heavy. He looked around in alarm, unsure of where he was or if this was some kind of trick by Voldemort again, but all he could see for miles was grass, and perhaps some grazing animals in the distance.
“Welcome, descendent,” an unfamiliar, accented voice said, and Harry whirled, whipping his wand out as he suddenly saw a vessel made of reeds floating down the river toward him.
The speaker was a man in flowing white robes, standing on the ancient, worn looking boat without any oars, although he did hold a very short staff, or perhaps it was a large wand, in his hands. The carved wooden length looked familiar to Harry, but he couldn’t place it immediately. Turning his attention back to the man, Harry saw that he was bald, with tanned olive skin, and his eyes were surrounded with a black eyeliner of some sort.
“Who are you?” Harry demanded. “How did you get into my head?”
“I am Kheti, war mage and ward master as you would understand them for the great Pharaohs of Egypt of millennia past,” the man replied evenly, his boat coming to a halt in front of Harry. “As to how I am in your head, perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I am now a part of your soul, and the reasons for that are admittedly somewhat unusual.”
“My soul?” Harry asked in alarm, not moving his wand away in the slightest.
“Indeed,” Kheti said, smiling a little. “To be more specific, I preserved my Ka in my scepter for my descendants to access one day for guidance.” He then frowned. “It seems that this took longer than I had initially thought.”
“What’s a Ka?” Harry asked suspiciously. “And how am I one of your descendants? The Potters aren’t from Egypt, not as far as I know.”
Kheti laughed softly. “Ka is one of the parts of the soul, an astral self, as you would call it. It is part of you, unique from birth. It is a guide and protector, carrying a fragment of the divine from creation, and persists from generation to generation. The soul is a complicated concept and magics affecting it must be undertaken only with great preparation and skill, or else true horrors are perpetrated. I will instruct you more on this, but we have more pressing things to speak on first.”
“First, you are indeed my descendant. Not from your lineage as a Potter, but instead from your lineage as a Black,” Kheti began, but Harry immediately interrupted him.
“But I’m not a Black!” he protested, his throat closing up and eyes becoming hot as he saw the image of Sirius falling through the Veil again.
“Yes, Harry, you are,” Kheti said gently. “Your grandmother on your father’s side was Dorea Black before she married Charlus Potter, and as such, Black blood flows through your veins. It is not the only ancient family either, but for my purposes, it is perhaps the most important. The Black family was not always called such, and its history stretches back uncounted generations to when it was found here, on the banks of the Nile. It is through that blood that my Ka was activated by yours when you grabbed my scepter in the Department of Mysteries, and it is through that blood that our Ka have begun to merge.”
“Our souls are merging? And when did I touch your scepter?” Harry asked, suspiciously.
“Our whole souls are not merging, only the Ka,” Kheti corrected. “And I believe you grabbed my scepter in a blind attempt to fend off your crazed relative in the bowels of your government building. It was successful, in that it saved your life, but the blast of magic was not without its own effects. Namely, my long-slumbering Ka overwhelming your agitated mind briefly. Even now, as we speak, parts of my knowledge are being instinctively grafted into you. I will instruct you in your dreams as well, for much of my knowledge must be explained and understood to be used, but I believe you may find yourself enjoying the benefit of unfamiliar spells being cast by your subconscious, or fluency in languages and runes you have never seen before.”
“That’s insane,” Harry said, feeling faint. “Hermione will hate the unfair advantage, of course, learning while I sleep,” he realized, aiming for levity, but his attempt at humor slid off even as he tried to force it. “Are there other effects of this… merger of our Ka?”
“Almost certainly,” Kheti said. “Beyond the knowledge of magic that I will impart, a good deal of which still quite useful to you, I believe, my personality will influence yours slightly. At my apex, I was confident, strong, decisive, and a formidable leader and combatant. You have these traits as well, and despite your troubled past, you have already begun to bring them forth. As our Ka become one, you will show the world these more often.”
“How much do you know about me?” Harry asked, thinking over this newest revelation. Most of this sounded good, even if he wished that this had happened before his disastrous decision to visit the Department of Mysteries. Now that Voldemort was active again in the world, he’d need every advantage he could get to survive, especially after watching him and Dumbledore duel. And he was supposed to be the Dark Lord’s equal?
Kheti smiled, revealing perfect teeth. “I know everything about you, Harry. My Ka has seen your soul in its entirety, all its memories, struggles, triumphs, and qualities. If I had not sensed that you were worthy, we would not be having this conversation. We have much to do, and you have a long way to go, but we can get there together, if you are willing to put in the work, as you would say. I have managed to glean some additional knowledge from the people who have been around my scepter, which has been helpful, but I have ancient knowledge as well. Not all of it has been surpassed by the current age of magic, and some of it remains superior or lost to the sands of time, yet I remember. For now, rest. I will remain with you and can offer guidance as needed.”
“Thank you, Kheti,” Harry said, feeling hopeful for the first time since he had watched Sirius die.
The Egyptian inclined his head, and Harry’s vision dissolved into a pool of darkness. When his eyes opened next, he could see that light was starting to faintly stream into Gryffindor Tower, and he forced himself up. Last night, he had more or less been forced to sleep by Dumbledore, having hardly gotten any updates on the conditions of his friends other than that they were alive, and he needed to know more if at all possible. He felt responsible for their injuries, and with that in mind, he quickly got dressed, jammed his glasses on, and hurried down to the Great Hall for breakfast, hoping to see Dumbledore or maybe another student from the botched rescue mission.
Sadly, he didn’t see anyone that he was looking for, so instead he scarfed down his food and hurried toward the infirmary. By the time he arrived, Madame Pomfrey had just opened the doors.
“Good morning, Mr. Potter,” she said with a touch of weariness. “You’re here early. Surely you didn’t manage to hurt yourself so soon in the day? And I was led to believe you were somehow uninjured last night.”
“Er, no, Madame Pomfrey,” Harry hurried to assure the stately witch. “I’m here to see if any of my friends are here.”
“Ah, yes,” Madame Pomfrey said. “I stayed up quite late tending to them, and they are all still asleep, so I will insist that you don’t wake them as they heal, but I don’t see the harm in you seeing them so long as you remain silent.”
“Thank you, Madame Pomfrey,” Harry said, still feeling incredibly guilty about his part in it all.
He tiptoed into the medical wing, quickly spotting Hermione, Ginny, and Fred. George and Neville had managed to come through unscathed, but Harry didn’t see Ron at all, and he knew he had been the worst off because of the strange brain-creatures that had grabbed him.
“Madame Pomfrey, where’s Ron?” he whispered. “Is he okay?”
The witch sighed. “He didn’t come back with the others,” she admitted softly. “The Headmaster said that he was in Saint Mungo’s, and from what I heard, he probably needs more specialist help than what I’m set up to deal with here in Hogwarts. The things in the Department of Mysteries are not to be trifled with, and they can leave their mark on the unwary.”
Harry’s shoulders slumped.
“Don’t worry, dear,” Madame Pomfrey said comfortingly. “Mr. Weasley should make a full recovery. It’ll simply take more time than these three. Now, you should go do something else and let your friends rest up and heal. I’m sure they’ll come find you once they’ve been released from my care.”
Harry nodded glumly and thanked the healer before walking slowly and somewhat aimlessly toward one of the courtyards.
“Harry James Potter!” a female voice barked, and Harry cringed as a redheaded witch bore down on him in full fury.
“Yes, Susan?” he asked timidly, having a bad feeling about what was about to happen to him.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” the Hufflepuff fifth year demanded.
“I’m sorry for causing your Aunt Amelia a lot of trouble and work?” he offered.
“No, you blathering idiot!” Susan said, her blue eyes crackling with ire. “First, how could you be so reckless as to charge into the Department of Mysteries without telling the Aurors, and second, why did you leave me and so many others from the D.A. behind?”
“Um, I thought my godfather was being tortured by Voldemort, and I didn’t have time to tell anyone but the people immediately around me in my house?” Harry offered. “And, considering how many people with me got hurt, I’m kind of glad that no one else was with us.”
“Harry Potter, I am your girlfriend!” Susan shot back, unimpressed with the lackluster response. “Furthermore, you know that Auntie Amelia would have investigated immediately if you told her what you just told me!”
“I know,” Harry admitted, feeling like a failure all over again. “It’s just that…I messed up in so many ways last night, and now Sirius is dead, and it’s all my fault. I can’t just put everyone I care about in danger.”
Susan sighed, almost groaning, and leaning forward, her forehead thumping on Harry’s shoulder.
“Harry,” she begged softly. “I know I’ve talked to you about this, and I know at least Hermione has as well. You have got to stop blaming yourself for everything bad that happens to you, especially when it involves a fight with the Death Eaters and You-Know-Who.”
“I’m sorry,” Harry muttered, feeling even worse about himself.
“No,” Susan declared, picking her head up and straightening herself. “I’ve been working hard at getting you to stop apologizing for things like this, and I’m going to keep doing so. But that battle will keep. Instead, we’re going to move onto more productive conversations instead.”
“Like what?” Harry asked cautiously, happy enough to be no longer in the direct line of fire for his tendency to apologize for his actions. If Susan caught him brooding again, it would not be pretty.
“My Auntie’s investigation into your living situation,” Susan said angrily. “I communicated my concerns to her, and what she’s found has been absolutely horrifying, Harry.”
“What investigation?” Harry asked faintly.
“At first, I thought your bad clothing and tendency to keep your head down and avoid attention was an attempt to hide from your fame,” Susan bulldozed on. “I knew it couldn’t be a lack of money, considering your position as the Potter Heir, and maybe more, depending on Sirius’s will reading, but that will also be shelved for now. No, it wasn’t until we started dating this year that I realized some things weren’t adding up, and I’ve spent long enough with my Aunt’s work colleagues to know when I need to dig a little deeper. Once I did, I figured out just how little you talk about your home life, where you grew up, or any family. In fact, nobody knows almost anything about where you grew up, and so when I reached out to Auntie and even she had trouble finding out the address, despite being the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I knew to hand off my findings to her.”
Susan stopped her cavalcade of words, breathing heavily as tears welled up in her expressive blue eyes.
“Harry, why didn’t you ever say anything?” she asked, sounding sad and heartbroken.
For Harry, this tenderness was almost too much for him to bear. Everything all year, from highs to lows, was hitting him so hard recently. From his torment at the hands of Umbridge and his triumphant vanquishing of her, to his constant visions from his scar, to his Occlumency “lessons” with Snape, to Sirius’s death, to the sudden presence of Kheti, and now the revealing of one of his most deeply buried secrets, it felt like life was determined to break him utterly.
“I did,” Harry croaked, completely overwhelmed by the softness in his girlfriend’s eyes and voice. “I begged Dumbledore every year to let me stay here, find somewhere else to go. He never let me. He wouldn’t even tell me why, just that it was necessary.”
“Then he will be answering for that,” Susan snarled, her loyal Hufflepuff instincts rising to the fore. “You will not be going back to those abusers again, and if keeping you in our manor is what it takes, Auntie has promised me that’s exactly what will happen!”
Harry stared at Susan for a little while after that heartfelt declaration, the small, downtrodden, mistrusting child in the back of his mind judging her words for sincerity and finally nodded in acceptance.
“Thank you,” he said thickly. “At least that will be something that goes right for me for once. This means more than I can say.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Susan said, smiling bravely through the tears that hadn’t quite fallen. “Once Auntie latches onto you, she doesn’t let go. It’s the badger in her.”
“If she raised you, I think I’ll be okay,” Harry managed, which earned him a massive hug from the redheaded witch.
“Just don’t tell Dumbledore or your friends anything just yet,” Susan cautioned. “It’s going to turn into an official investigation, most likely, and Auntie doesn’t want any of the evidence to get hidden.”
“Okay,” Harry said. “I was going to try and speak with Dumbledore before the train left about something that happened to me in the Department of Mysteries, but I’ll wait until after the summer now.”
“Something happened to you in the DoM?” Susan squeaked, releasing Harry suddenly. “Oh, you definitely will need to talk to Auntie about that. I can’t imagine you’ll be in trouble, but the head of the Unspeakables, Croaker, has been asking her some questions about if the Death Eaters did something to one of their new artifacts.”
“Oh,” Harry said, wondering if his mouth had run away from him in a really bad way this time. “Yeah, that might have been me.”