The king of Egypt gripped the railing of his balcony as he stared out over the desert. The night was cool and a breeze wafted over the pharaoh's bare arms and shoulders. He was wearing a light linen tunic, but had left his purple cloak draped across his bed. With no one watching, he wanted to lay down as much of his kingship as he could.

But he would not…could not… remove the crown. The gold weighed his head down heavily. With no one watching, he could let his head droop under the weight, but he would never, could never, take it off. It was part of who he was, the bit of being Pharaoh he could never lay aside. It was not the gold that made it such a heavy burden to bear.

For once, the city was quiet. The fires had finally been extinguished, and the screams that had torn at the pharaoh's ears three nights before had died. Bakura and his men had disappeared as quickly as they had come, content, it seemed, to leave death and destruction in their wake.

And Pharaoh himself was powerless to stop them.

He gripped the rail even more tightly and grit his teeth. If only he could fight Bakura face-to-face! The power granted to him by his Millennium Puzzle was more than sufficient to deal with the Thief King, no matter what Shadow Magic the criminal was rumored to be the master of. Atem did not allow true rumors of his power to spread rampantly, lest the peasants be too terrified to remain and farm their land.

With the power he had inherited and mastered, the pharaoh was very nearly the god that his people believed him to be.

But even the strongest power needed direction. Bakura was always careful to lurk just out of reach, striking here and there, but never remaining in the same place long enough for Pharaoh to bring his full power to bear. He could destroy minions until he was blue in the face, but the Thief King himself remained untouchable. Like one of the Shadows at his bidding, he flitted through the kingdom, invisible and silent.

A shadow that was slowly bringing Egypt to its knees.

The pharaoh's eyes narrowed. There were methods he could use to find the Thief King, but his stomach rebelled at what each one would cost. The still-beating heart of a child, cut from its chest and consumed by the Shadowmancer, would allow him to find anyone and anything he chose. Likewise, drinking the blood and soul of a close friend would bring him enough power to sense every living thing in all of Egypt. He thought of Mahaad, or Seth, and shuddered. Maybe to another king, the sacrifice would have been reasonable to save an entire country. The Thief King would certainly perform such a ritual. But Atem would not, could not, descend to that level, anymore than he could turn back time and pretend this entire nightmare had never happened.

Something, though, had to be done.

"Great gods of Egypt," Pharaoh breathed into the cool night air, "Heed my prayer. Send me some way to save my people."

There was a piercing scream from the city below, and the pharaoh jerked, his hand going instinctively to the Millennium Puzzle.

"Please, gods of Egypt," he whispered again, "Help us soon."

5000 years in the future…

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, if you do not pay attention in my class, I will personally skin you alive and use you as wall decorations."

Both boys jumped guiltily. "Sorry, Professor McGonagall." They had been discussing the return of You-Know-Who, and maybe their voices had been getting a little too loud.

The teacher did not look mollified. "I understand that your conversation can undoubtedly not be postponed until a more appropriate time, but I will not have you talking in my class until I am satisfied you have completelymastered the material."

Another wince. They were working on transforming animals into inanimate objects and back again, and so far neither one had been having much luck. Ron's mouse had a tail made of stone and feet that were giving off the unmistakable odor of rotting eggs. Harry's mouse was a bit luckier: only the feet stank. It was running circles around Ron's mouse, which was unable to move more than a few centimeters under the weight of its heavy tail.

Professor McGonagall eyed the poor creatures sternly. Then, with a flick of her wand, the mice were once again returned to normal. The smell disappeared. Both mice immediately jumped from the desk and ran out of sight, causing an outbreak of squeals from the girls as the rodents ran across their feet.

"You will write twelve inches on the proper use of this spell, as well as a detailed description of the incantation and correct wand technique," McGonagall told Harry and Ron, ignoring the racket. "Due to me by tomorrow."

"But Professor," Harry protested. What with the possibility of detention with Umbridge every time he opened his mouth, as well as the pile of work he had to complete already, he didn't have the time to write another essay tonight. It wasn't fair! Everyone else in the room had been talking too, and they weren't being assigned anything.

"No buts, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said sternly. "You could use the practice."

Harry had just opened his mouth to protest again when Hermione elbowed him in the ribs and hissed, "Don't say anything else, Harry! You'll only get into more trouble."

Harry clamped his jaw shut angrily. He knew she was right, but if anything, that only made him angrier. By that time, Hermione had elbowed Ron too and delivered the same warning. The red-headed boy didn't seem any happier about it than Harry was. But at least he didn't say anything.

"Now, if you'll permit me to get back to my lesson," McGonagall said irritably, sweeping her steely gaze over the entire class. Silence fell. "We will continue."

Without mice, Harry and Ron were forced to share with Hermione. With a flick of her wand and a muttered, "Commutatus," she managed to change her mouse into a pincushion, an alarm clock, and a delicate china figurine in quick succession.

"Commutus," Ron said, his wand nearly knocking the figurine to the floor as he waved it randomly about. The figurine let out a frightened squeak and turned a violent shade of orange.

"Not commutus," Hermione said exasperatedly, "Com-mute-taut-us."

"Commutatus," Ron mumbled, waving his wand again. This time, the figurine shattered on the floor.

"Oh for Heaven's sake," Hermione snapped. "Reparo!" The figurine reformed itself immediately. "You probably just gave the poor thing brain damage. Flick your wand, don't thrust it like a sword!"

"Brain damage?" Ron stared at her. "It's a mouse, Hermione. I don't think it will notice the difference."

Hermione sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. "Well try and be a bit more careful."

"Let me try," Harry said. He tried to imitate the flicking movement Hermione had made a few moments before. "Commutatus." He was rewarded by the figurine suddenly sprouting fur, though it was still made out of china. "Hey, that's progress, right?"

Hermione sighed. "I think McGonagall's right. You need to practice."

"Just whose side are you on?" Ron demanded, just as the bell rang.

"The side of accuracy," she replied archly, shoving her books into her bag and hoisting it with a loud oof onto her shoulder.

The two friends continued to bicker as they left McGonagall's classroom and headed off down the hall. Harry trailed along behind, partly amused and partly annoyed by his friend's antics. He wished he could be at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix right now, instead of putting up with Ministry spies and boring classes. Not to mention piles of homework.

He glanced at his schedule and groaned. History of Magic. Easily the most boring class at Hogwarts. The teacher, Professor Binns, was a ghost, and Harry sometimes suspected it was his personal mission to kill as many of his students through boredom as possible. Maybe he wanted the company. Well, Harry thought, at least it isn't Potions. Whatever Binns did, Snape was immeasurably worse.

He heard identical groans from in front of him as Ron and Hermione stopped arguing long enough to examine their schedules.

"History of Magic?" Ron moaned. "Can't they do an exorcism or something and drive Binns out?"

"History of Magic is a very important subject for our OWLs," Hermione said crisply. She winced. "Though I do wish we had another teacher."

Unwillingly, they followed their feet in the direction of the History of Magic classroom. But halfway there, a squat woman in a horrid pink dress and a bright pink bowtie perched on her frog-like head emerged out of a nearby classroom. Harry felt his stomach lurch.

"Hello, Mr. Potter. Ms. Granger. Mr. Weasley," Umbridge simpered. "Where are you heading to?"

"History of Magic," Harry said, bristling. Her knowing smile and piercing gaze made his blood boil. He clenched his fists and tried not to lose control.

"Oh, how very interesting," she said with what was clearly supposed to be a girlish giggle. It sounded like nails being scraped on a chalkboard. "Well, be on your way."

"Thank you, Professor Umbridge," Hermione said, grabbing Harry's arm and squeezing it tightly to prevent him from giving voice to all the things he desperately wanted to say to her. As Umbridge waddled away, Hermione started dragging Harry in the opposite direction.

"I hate her!" he hissed fiercely. "Why did she have to open her fat, stupid mouth?"

"Harry!" she hissed back, just as fiercely. "Be careful! Let's just go to History of Magic. Come on."

"Binns and that Umbridge woman all in one day," Ron muttered as they continued walking. "I'm pretty sure this day can't get any worse."

"Don't say that," Harry said. "You'll jinx us."

Ron looked suddenly nervous. "You don't think that's true about jinxing, do you?"

"Ron, you're in fifth year and you don't know about jinxes?" Hermione said, exasperated. "No wonder you couldn't cast that spell in Transfigurations."

"Hey!" both boys said.

She sighed. "Never mind."

They had reached the door of Binns' classroom. Resigning themselves to an hour of utter boredom, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stepped inside.

And groaned as their day abruptly got worse.

Professor Umbridge was sitting in a corner of the classroom, her clipboard open on her lap. She had a quill in one hand and a nasty smile on her face. As the trio passed her, she smiled wider and scribbled something on her clipboard. Harry threw her a nasty look which, fortunately, she did not appear to catch.

"Hey, maybe she'll sack Binns," Ron whispered as they took their seats. At Hermione's look, he held up his hands. "I'm trying to look on the bright side here."

"I doubt it," Harry sighed. "She only wants to sack the good teachers. Like Hagrid." There was a pause. "Okay, the teachers we like."

Professor Binns floated up to the head of the class a moment later after giving Umbridge a slightly puzzled look. The change in routine, however, did not faze him for long. Umbridge stood up, but before she could give her little simpering laugh and clear her throat to make any sort of introduction, he launched into his lecture. She sat down again, clearly put out. Harry hid a grin.

"Today," Binns droned. "We will be learning about the ancient Egyptians and the magic that existed in their culture before the conquest of Alexander the Great."

Harry sighed and put his head down on his desk. A subject that might have been interesting with another teacher was now already putting him to sleep. He happened to glance at Umbridge, only to find her staring at him with a smug expression on her face. With an effort, he forced himself to sit upright again. To his left and right, Ron and Hermione were also slipping into a daze, but they made a half-hearted attempt to copy his motion. The rest of the class didn't even bother.

Binns was talking about the pharaohs, but Harry wasn't listening anymore. Instead, he was brooding about You-Know-Who. The Order wasn't sure exactly what his plans were, but Harry longed to be with them, helping to figure it out, rather than listen to Binns list ancient Egyptian Pharaohs and what they had built with and without the aid of magic.

"Great gods of Egypt…"

Harry, who had been slumping down again, sat bolt upright. The voice hadn't come from Binns; it was deeper and full of a kind of desperation. He looked around, but no one else seemed to have heard it. As he watched, Lavender Brown yawned hugely.

"Heed my prayer…"

To his right, Hermione started. She stared at Harry, wide-eyed, then mouthed, "What was that?" Harry shrugged. He nudged Ron and whispered, "Did you hear that?"

Ron roused himself with an effort. "Hear what?" he whispered sleepily.

"Send me some way to save my people."

Ron's eyes opened wide with shock. "What was that?" he demanded, forgetting to keep his voice down. Binns paused briefly in his lecture, and the rest of the class turned to look. Ron flushed with embarrassment.

"Er…I'm sorry, Professor, but…" He cast around for a plausible lie. "I didn't hear that. Could you repeat it?"

Binns blinked once, then began again. The whole class groaned, and some of the other students gave Ron dirty looks. Umbridge was watching them closely, her eyes narrowed. Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned to face front. All three were tense, ears straining for more of the mysterious voice.

"Maybe it's Peeves," Ron whispered. "You know, playing some kind of joke?"

Harry shook his head. "This isn't the kind of joke Peeves likes to play," he said. "He's more of a 'drop an inkpot on somebody's head' sort of guy. This is different. I think…I think it's magic."

"Well, we are in a school for magic," Hermione pointed out, but all three went quiet and still as the voice began again.

"Please, gods of Egypt," the man whispered. Harry looked around again, but no one else was reacting to a mysterious voice appearing out of thin air. He strained to hear. "Help us." Harry felt a chill run down his spine and along his neck. A slight breeze lifted his hair. The window was closed. A golden light appeared in the center of the aisle nearest the trio, growing brighter and brighter by the second. Still, nobody noticed.

"Soon," came the voice again, and with that final word, Harry felt a terrific tug on the back of his collar. He was lifted bodily out of his seat and dragged across the floor towards the pool of light. A creature with golden feathers that resembled a griffin glared at him with empty eyes, while a gigantic red dragon coiled around its body. Behind the pair, he saw another hulking shape like a gargoyle. But he saw nothing else because the light expanded until his entire world was filled with it. He could hear Hermione screaming and Ron yelling curses, but he could not move to help them, could not even grasp his wand.

Then in an instant, the light had vanished. Harry, Ron, and Hermione disappeared.

The first thing Harry realized was that his mouth was filled with sand. He raised his head and spat, but the sand seemed to be everywhere, clinging to his skin like glue. He rubbed his face with both hands, but they too were smeared with sand.

He looked around. Hermione and Ron lay a few feet away, also spitting and coughing up sand. His mouth wouldn't work when he tried to call to them. But he couldn't just lie there helpless. With a huge effort, Harry dragged himself to his feet. After a moment, Ron and Hermione followed suit.

They were standing in the middle of a huge desert, stretching out in all directions. The sun beat down on their heads; the heat was stifling. The History of Magic classroom, indeed all of Hogwarts, was gone.