The cave was unremarkable, just a small cavern in an isolated corner of the Egyptian desert. There were no other features as far as the eye could see; parched sand, straggly trees and the sun, beating down on the cracked earth. Inside, there sat a rectangular stone. If it wasn't for the cut running all the way around the edge, one would think it was a natural rock.

The man stood in front of the sarcophagus. He wore purple robes, embroidered with gold hieroglyphs. He threw his bald head back, looking out at the gathered crowd. "Here!" he proclaimed. "Here is one of the most important wizarding finds in this desert."

His voice dropped as he leaned into the crowd, and said mysteriously, "This is perhaps the most cursed place in this entire desert."

I was entirely bored by the man's theatrics, having followed him around the desert on a cheap tour for two weeks. Again, he was overselling a perfectly boring tomb to pad out his tour. Mildly interesting to begin with, but now I was thoroughly looking forward to conducting more interesting and useful research alone. My mother stood next to me, a frail woman with eyes that seemed to always stare and a squashed face. She stayed close to my side, her hand now and again coming out to clasp my own. I tolerated her for the most part, particularly now: she had managed to save enough to go on this trip.

I had recently graduated from Hogwarts with top marks, and my mother had been disgustingly proud. She was not overly bright herself, so an acceptable was very special to her, and a list of outstandings sent her into tears. We tended to suit each other apart. I wasn't one to be coddled, nor her late husband, but we tolerated each other better than most people and she was the only person I was in anyway protective of.

In the twilight, I returned to the cave. There was nothing else to see and the others on the tour made for poor conversation. But the cave was not interesting either. No carvings to look at, nor markings of any kind. I wasn't even convinced this was a tomb, more likely a simple storage spot for someone to stowaway a few worthless personal items. I scanned my wand over the supposed sarcophagus.

Thump. Thump.

I looked up, ready to curse whatever fool had decided to try and disturb me. But I could see nor hear anyone.

"Who's there?" I said sharply.

Only the wind answered. I went to lower my wand, but the sound came again, this time more clearly.

Thump. Thump.

It sounded curiously like someone slapping their hand against stone. I almost dismissed such a ridiculous thought, but I found myself pointing my wand at the sarcophagus. Don't be daft, I told myself. For a minute, I looked at the tomb before curiosity won out. I went over and pressed my ear against the lid, then hit the top with my palm.

Thump. Thump.

It was definitely coming from inside. For a moment, I considered my options. The obvious thing to do would be to open it up and look. Telling anyone else would mean not ever being able to study the phenomena within. It certainly didn't appear to be cursed. It was most likely a spell to trick people. But if so, it was certainly a rather clever spell with no trace of its existence, certainly outside the realm of a brash tour guide.

Perhaps, my mind dared to whisper, it's a long dead wizard somehow returned to life. But I don't hold much stock in wild theories without evidence, and immortality as a rotting corpse seemed counterproductive. I went to the entrance and looked for anyone who might be there. Satisfied that no one would disturb me, I turned back to the tomb.

"Wingardium Leviosa," I said.

With a great scraping noise, the lid rose up. From the angle I was at, I couldn't see inside. But then, a hand appeared over the edge. I felt my grip tighten on my wand and my breath catch ever so slightly. It was a perfectly ordinary, healthy hand. Then a figure sat up in the sarcophagus, and I took a step back. I kept my wand pointed at the figure, ready to stun him at a moment's notice. I was quite tempted to do so immediately, but a good first impression was usually more advantageous than a bad one. The figure, a teenage boy was skinny with messy black hair. One of his hands was searching around in the sarcophagus for something. He found a pair of round glasses - curiously modern looking - and shoved them on his face and started to look around properly. Who ever he was he seemed rather confused and hardly the image of a great wizard who had conquered death.

But then, bright green eyes looked directly at me and the boy said, "Tom. Tom Riddle!"

For the longest time, I stared at him. How did he know my name? But then the boy seemed to have realised his mistake, he blinked several times and said in a rather stupid voice, "Oh. Sorry."

"How do you know my name?" I demanded.

Instead of answering immediately, the boy swung his legs over the side of the sarcophagus and stood up, swaying slightly. He gripped the side and shook his head as though trying to clear it. I slowly advanced towards him, ready to curse him if needed.

When I was only a couple steps away, I asked him again. "How do you know my name?"

This time, the boy looked properly at me, nervously running a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. He sighed. "I'm Harry," he offered.

I filed that information away. A common name, certainly not someone from Egypt. He actually sounded British, an explorer, perhaps? The boy seemed too young to be an explorer, though. But nevertheless, he had failed to answer my question. I took another step forwards, pleased I was able to tower over him.

"Answer the question," I said, allowing a hint of a threat to leak through.

Harry looked at me, seeming to be searching for something. After a while, he seemed to have satisfied himself as he said: "We met before - or after, well, I'm not sure actually."

"What's that suppose I mean?" I snapped. I certainly hadn't met this boy anywhere. Harry started to fidget, shifting his weight and running his hand through his hair. "I'm not really sure I should tell you," he said slowly.

My wand was close to his face now, almost brushing his skin. There was a curious scar on his forehead, shaped like a lightning bolt. I pressed the tip of my wand between his eyes.

"You will tell me," I said. One way or another, I would get the truth from him. I wasn't one to pass up knowledge, no matter how much a normal wizard might find the absolute pursuit of knowledge distasteful. But Harry only looked at me, foolish defiance in his eyes. He slapped my wand away.

"Don't you dare threaten me," he said.

In that moment, nostrils flaring and a hex on the tip of my tongue - I almost lost control. How dare he try and defy me? But with a calming breath I soothed my anger. It wouldn't do to provoke him. I carefully ensured no anger was showing when I spoke again, my wand pointed away from him but ready to attack, and a step back to provide a more comfortable distance. I ensured a polite smile was on my face.

"My apologies," I said. "I was merely interes-"

"Save it, Riddle," the boy growled. The smile slipped from my face.

"I was the one who got you out of that sarcophagus," I said in a quiet voice. "You should really show a degree of gratefulness."

Harry stood up, fists bunched up at his sides. "No," he said, "you don't get to boss me around."

Again, my wand pointed at him. I wasn't entirely sure why I hadn't cursed him, much more simple to do. But, I was intrigued. Despite his appearance, he clearly had some some great secrets.

"Why were you in there?" I asked.

Harry still pointlessly tried to glare at me. "I was sleeping," he said.

My eyes narrowed, not understanding. "Were you not dead?"

Harry started to fidget again. "I don't know," he said.

"You don't have a wand," I said, realising suddenly he would have otherwise drawn it by now. Proving me correct, the boy paused, glancing at me. My smile widened. I brought my wand to his face. "Now," I said, "you will tell me the truth."

But Harry remained needlessly and hopelessly defiant. "No," he said, "I won't tell you."

I could feel a snarl building up in me, but I squashed the primal instincts down. I made a step towards him, pressing my wand against his skin. "You know I could just as easily put you back in that sarcophagus," I said.

Harry gave a rather savage smile. "Sounds nice," he said, "I was comfortable in there, before you woke me up."

I let out a harsh laugh, cold and high pitched. It didn't suit me at all, but it had the desired effect of making Harry pause. Polite was one option I had - feral was another. "Pain can last a long time," I said.

Harry tensed, I saw the tendons in his neck tighten. He knew I could follow through with my threats, knew he was trapped. I wouldn't allow him to leave without explaining all he knew. But which curse to use? Making him scream too loudly could unfortunately draw attention, though a simple silencing spell could always see to that. Perhaps just a small dose to begin with. A little taste of what was to come if he didn't show some obedience.

"Obscuro," I said, followed by a quick Sticking Charm. Harry's glasses blackened over and stuck so he couldn't remove them. His hands went up, scrambling to try and remove his glasses - trying to escape the darkness he was in.

I moved closer, making him tense even more. "Aduspellis," I said only putting a little power behind the spell and a small graze opened on his arm.

Harry winced, but the graze was hardly enough. I didn't expect it to be, but I would start slowly; allow him to speak before his vocal chords became raw with screaming. "Aduspellis," I said again, this time with a little more power. Harry sucked in a sharp breath as the graze became larger, oozing a little blood.

"I was happy," he growled.

"Happy?" I said mockingly. "Enjoy rotting, do you?"

"No," he said, "no. I was dead."

Ah. Now that I was much more interested in. "How exactly did you-"

Frustratingly, he broke me off again. "It doesn't matter!" he shouted, his arms flapped as though trying to get across a point he couldn't vocalise. "I want to go back," he said in a defeated voice.

I frowned, confused. Surely he did not mean back in the sarcophagus? Or did he really fear me so much that was a preferable option? I felt a thrill of pride and power go through me at the thought. Excellent, I would show him he was right to fear my power.

"Flipendo," I cast at him, and he stumbled back, knocking his head against the hard stone behind. He collapsed on the ground, rubbing the back of his head. I knelt over him, pinning him and pressing my wand hard against the underside of his chin. "How did you rise from the dead?" I demanded to know.

"Get off me," he shouted.

Once more, I cast Aduspellisi making a large graze open up on his chest, blood leaking through his t-shirt. "Tell the truth," I demanded to know, a feral growl on my lips. No one defied me, and certainly not a stupid boy without a wand. But he began to laugh.

"That's not going to work on me," he said. Then, to my astonishment, he easily slipped his glasses off, gave them a shake and placed perfectly clear lenses on his eyes. My brain stalled. How? How had he so easily removed my spells?

"Legilimens," I said, almost on automatic. I had to know. How had to conquered death? Harry's mind was frail, and I easily slipped into his chaotic mind. At first I only saw his most immediate thoughts: hopeless ways to escape and even try and harm me. They were unimportant and I brushed them aside, searching deeper for his secrets. But then, I came across a darkness. An inky, floating void in his mind. On instinct I pulled back, away from this void as I knew, somehow, it knew. But as I retreated from Harry's mind, the void followed with whispering rustles of unseen fabric.

I pulled from his mind with a gasp as though I had been holding my breath for too long, but still the void followed. It surrounded my mind, but did not enter, fluttering on the edges. I had not really noticed how quickly I was breathing and I struggled to maintain my composure.

"Death," the boy said, as though an order. Amazingly, the void retreated slightly, although I could still feel almost gentle tendrils on my mind. My mind was not working, it could not. Death? Surely I would not face death today. I was meant to become immortal.

"No one's immortal, Tom," Harry said gently. "Let me go. Let me have the freedom of death."

"Who are you?" I asked, fear lacing my voice.

Harry sighed. "That doesn't matter. Chase knowledge, but don't throw your life away for it." He knelt before me, looking at him with brilliant green eyes, and now I could see the age in them, despite his apparent youth. "You can be a great wizard, do not throw your life away for things you should not know."

"You are death?" I whispered. This boy was what I feared at the core of my being. This little boy.

But he shook his head. Then I realised, that void, still a quiet presence against my mind was death.

"Yes," Harry said. I did not question how he so easily read my thoughts. "I am not death, but he is with me."

For one of the few times in my life, I felt pity. What a dreadful fate to have death with you, always. Perhaps in that sarcophagus he could escape such an existence?

"No," Harry said. "Death is freedom to me, in death, I am free. Death can be pain, fear and loss, but he can also provide freedom, return loved ones to us and allow us rest. Don't spend your life fearing death. Live instead, Tom."

I stared at him. No one would wait for me in death. All it offered was an end to life; an end to any knowledge I could acquire, an end having any goals and having anything to stand for. Again Harry sighed. "If you cannot live, at least let me die."

I felt my anger return. How dare he suggest I was not living? I had achieved far more at eighteen than most wizards managed in the entirety of their pitiful lives. Why should I follow his wishes when he would not give me the knowledge I desired?

But Harry looked at me with pity in his eyes, pity that disgusted me. "You were given a second chance, Tom," said Harry, "please, take it."

"A second chance?" I asked.

"You lived before," said Harry in a quiet voice. "Survived really, you destroyed yourself out a fear that controlled your life." He paused and drew what appeared to be a strip of plain black cloth from his robes. "I will make a bargain with you. Let me have my rest and then live. Live without the fear that drives your anger. This cloth will protect you from death, for as long as you do not harm others."

I considered that simple cloth, intrigued. I knew, somehow that what he said was true. The thought of immortality. I would take this, though it would set my plans back a long way. Few things motivated as much as fear, and without being able to follow through with threats I would lose a lot of power.

"Do you love your mother?" Harry asked suddenly.

"I don't know," I said. Mild affection, perhaps? I could not feel nothing for the woman who raised me, but I did not think that as love. It was a distasteful emotion, full of falsehoods.

"Love," said Harry, "you'll find power there. Will you take the offer?"

"Yes," I said. I filed away what he had said, someone who had death with him was not someone to ignore. He watched me as a tied that strip of cloth on my wrist. I touched

it gently, and felt a quiet presence there.

"It is my hope," said Harry as he lay back in the sarcophagus, "that you will one day take that cloth off and welcome death."

I didn't answer him, just silently watched his smile as he closed those green eyes in what seemed to be peace. With a scrape, the heavy stone lid covered him.

There is little more to add. I hugged my mother for the first time since I was a small boy that night. She asked why, but I didn't answer.

Some years later, I heard that muggle researchers found and opened that tomb. Inside they found an ancient corpse, a rich man, they said, possibly dating to the time of Ramses II.

I still have that strip of cloth. But I begin to think now that it traps me; I begin to understand what that boy meant by the freedom of death. Perhaps one day, but not now.

A/N: Aduspellis: adustione - scrape, pellis - skin

Written for the passover event.

Prompts used: Egypt (location)

Word count: 3,000