Chapter 2
CAIRO, 1926.
Harry Potter was obsessed with Egypt and its history. Technically, his name was Carnahan now but he had been a Potter before. He had been Harry Potter for fifteen years, he had also been a wizard for fifteen years. But then, he and his cousin, Dudley, had been attacked by Dementors and Harry had been forced to use his magic to protect his cousin. He knew it was forbidden to use magic outside of Hogwarts but he had no choice. Obviously, the Ministry got involved and Harry had to go through a trial, a trial which he lost. He had been stripped of his magic, his wand had been broken and he had been forced to live as a muggle with no hope to ever returning to the Wizarding World.
Harry had then lived with his aunt and uncle for a couple months during which he had suffered the worst kind of abuse ever before Mr Carnahan, Howard, found him and took him in. He had saved Harry and offered him a life, a real life. Howard had become his father, Helen, Howard's wife, had become his mother and Jonathan, their son, had become his older brother. No one questionned Harry being a part of the Carnahan family for he looked a lot like Helen. They had the same tanned skin, black hair and green eyes. No one had ever thought of questionning Harry being Helen's son and Harry couldn't have been happier. He really felt like he belonged.
The Carnahans had been so loving and caring that they had managed to make Harry forget about the Wizarding World. From the moment he had met them, he had forgotten the pain and the longing, he had accepted the fact that he was a muggle now and he eventually realized that he didn't really miss the Wizarding World. He enjoyed his life as a Carnahan.
Then Howard and Helen died, and Harry felt as though the world had ended. Harry felt like he was cursed for a while. His parents, James and Lily, had died when he had been a baby and then Howard and Helen had died as well. Jonathan was there for him though, he had spent his time reassuring Harry, telling him that none of what happened was his fault. Their parents had died in a plane crash, end of story. Jonathan's reassurances had managed to make Harry feel slightly better but he had only spent nine short years with his parents whereas he had wanted to spend a whole lifetime with them, maybe even two.
Terence Bey had starting running the Cairo Museum of Anitquities after the Carnahans' death and he had been generous enough to take Harry as his employee. Harry hadn't been ready to leave the Museum after his parents' death and so he had begged Terence to hire him. He had been over the moon when Terence had finally caved in and had hired him. Howard and Helen had been the reason why he had grown so fond of Egypt and he wasn't ready to leave the Museum and its treasures just yet.
Deep in the bowels of the Museum lie the stacks. Rows upon rows of towering bookshelves filled with literature and hitory-realated books. Harry loved these books, they were his entire life. He was standing at the top of a tall ladder between two of these rows and leaning against one of the bookshelves, trying to put some books back where they belonged. He was wearing a black buttonned down shirt and black trousers, his round glasses perched on his nose, he only needed them to read but he kind of liked wearing them. He liked wearing black clothes. He liked blending in and wearing black clothes was the perfect way to blend in his opinion.
“Sacred stones, sculpture and aesthetics, Socrates, Seth, volume one, volume two, and volume three.” He listed out loud as he put the books back on the shelf. “And...” He squinted as he looked at the spine of the book. “Tuthmosis? What are you doing here? T, t, t, ,t...” He mumbled as he looked around himself. “T.” He looked down. It was a long way down to the bottom and he was pretty sure he could reach the shelf opposite him justs by extending his arm. “I'm going to put you where you belong.”
He gently set the other books down on the top shelf, then turned around and gingerly started to reach across the aisle with the Tuthmosis book. The shelf was a little too far so he stretched, reaching, holding the top of the ladder with his fingertips. He was getting closer, he could do it. Then the ladder pulled away from the shelf. Harry yelped, he let go of the book and grabbed the top of the ladder with both of his hands. The ladder was standing straight up and Harry didn't know what to do.
Harry was panting hard, trying to find a way to go down the ladder safely. “Help.” He mumbled under his breath. The ladder was swaying precariously and Harry felt like he could fall any moment. He screamed when he lost his balance and fell forward onto the 'S' bookshelf. Harry sighed in relief when nothing happened. He only had time to take a breath when he felt the bookshelf fall away from him and it crashed into the next bookshelf. Harry slid down the ladder and fell to the floor. He looked up as the domino effect kicked in: each bookshelf into the next and so on. Harry closed his eyes, he couldn't bare to look at what was happening. He was so dead. Terence would cut his head off and feed it to birds.
He winced when he heard the last bookshelf crash into the wall. He opened his eyes to see that all the bookselves had fallen and the books were on the floor, pages flying around. He slowly took his glasses off as he stared at the huge mess. “Oops.” He mumbled.
“What... How...” He heard Terence mumble and turned around. Harry guiltily bit his lower lip. “Oh, look at this!” Terence said as he walked toward Harry. “Sons of the Pharaohs!” He swore loudly. “Give me frogs! Flies! Locusts! Anything but you! Compared to you, the other plagues were a joy!”
“I am so very sorry. It was an accident.” Harry said.
“My boy, when Ramses destroyed Syria, that was an accident. You are a catastrophe. Look at my library! Why do I put up with you?”
“Well, well, you put up with me because uh... Because I can read and write Ancient Egyptian and I can... I can decipher hieroglyphics and hieratic, and, well, I am the only person within a thousand miles who knows how to properly code and catalog this library, that's why.” He said, getting more and more confident as he talked.
“I put up with you because your father and mother were our finest patrons, that's why!” He replied. “Allah rest their souls.” He added softly. “I don't care how you do it, I don't care how long it takes, straighten up this meshiver!” He ordered him before storming out.
Harry was about to do as he had been told when he heard a crashing sound coming from a nearby gallery. He followed it and ended up standing at the entrance of the room containing all of the objects related to Ramses. “Hello?” He called.
No one answered. He looked around, trying to see whether someone was hiding somwhere in the room. It was dimly lit, the only light coming from flickering torches, and so Harry could barely see a thing. Harry grabbed a torch and shuffled through the gallery. “Abdul? Mohammed? Bob?” He called weakly.
He jumped when he heard a noise coming from behind him. He walked slowly toward the open sarcophagus and looked at the fake mummy inside. He screamed, literally screamed when the mummy sat up and screeched at him. His heart had stopped beating only to start back up and beat faster than ever.
He bit his lower lip to prevent himself from cursing out loud when he saw Jonathan sit up in the sarcophagus, right beside the mummy, laughing his arse off. “Have you no respect for the dead?” He asked his brother, outraged by his behavior.
“Of course I do. But sometimes I'd rather like to join them.” Jonathan joked.
“Well, I wish you would do it sooner rather than later before you ruin my career the way you've ruined yours.” Harry said as he put the mummy back into the sarcophagus, where it was supposed to be laying. He slapped Jonathan's cheek weakly. “Now get out.”
“My dear, sweet, baby brother.” Jonathan said as he clumsily got out of the sarcophagus. “I'll have you know that, at this precise moment, my career is on a high note.”
“High note, ha! Jonathan, please, I'm really not in the mood for you. I've just made a bit of a mess in the library, and the Bembridge scholars have rejected my application form again.” Harry sighed dejectedly as he sat down. “They say I don't have enough experience in the field.”
Jonathan crouched down in front of Harry and smiled reassuringly. “You'll always have me, Harry.” Harry couldn't help but smile back. “Besides, I have just the thing to cheer you up.” He said as he went back to the sarcophagus.
“Oh, no, Jonathan, not another worthless trinket. If I have to take one more piece of junk to the curator to try and... sell for you.” He finished weakly as Jonathan handed him a little golden box.
Harry frowned and took it from Jonathan's hand. “Where did you get this?” He asked without taking his eyes off the box. It looked old, really old, like Ancient-Egypt kind of old.
Jonathan shrugged carelessly. “On a dig down in uh... Thebes. My whole life I've never found anything, Harry. Please, tell me I've found something.”
Harry looked the box around and found a little push-button. He pressed it and the box opened, revealing a folded parchment. “Jonathan.”
“Yes?”
“I think you've found something.” Harry replied as he pulled the parchment out of the box, a giddy smile on his face. He unfolded the parchment and nearly gasped when he discovered a map.