April, 2017 - London
(Transcribed and translated by Aldous I. May)
An unexpected truth
There is a time, when everything comes to an end. But fear not, dear reader, for every ending shall have a new beginning. I am writing this, not because I think it is an ending, but because I think that the past should not be forgotten; by writing it, I will preserve my life for others to learn from it. I may have made some mistakes - as every one of us has, whether they admit it or not.
I am now a man of age; I have become weary of my body and the heaviness of my thoughts. I have reached a state where I do not care about the sake of my body anymore, nor am I afraid of death or what may follow. I am aware that life is just one step on a longer journey; death is not the end, but necessary to reach what comes beyond.
While I am writing this here and now, I do not want to tell you everything; I will just tell you what I deem important to understand the meaning of my life and what impact my memories have on it. But I will stop now, for you should read for yourself.
I will begin with a cosy spring evening, when raindrops were gently knocking on the windows, while I was writing the beginning of my story; it all began with the door suddenly opening, and my half-grown son entering...
»Where have you been so long?«, I asked him sincerely. It was April now, so he had come home for holidays from his school, Hogwarts, where I had attended too, many years ago. But this is another story, and shall not be further mentioned here.
Aldous didn't seem very pleased. I was sitting in the dining room of our small but sufficient flat that I had finally been able to afford after some years of working and getting famous through some books I had written. But I will tell you later about this fact of my life, now continue to read about my son.
»Why does that concern you?«, he responded harshly, entering the room and throwing his bag onto the sofa, stumbling quite lackadaisically into the kitchen, where he came across my table. He gave my writings an annoyed look which I could not fully comprehend at this time.
»Because I am your father, maybe?« I returned his gaze with a frown.
Aldous would just roll his eyes at me. »Yeah, sadly. A pure blood Arab.«
It wasn't even the words he used, that shocked me - it was the dismissive tone in his voice, that I was not used to hearing from my own flesh and blood. Raising an eyebrow, I deliberately countered his disapproving gaze. »First, I am British, like you. Second, being a pure blood does not make any difference. Nobody chooses his blood status and it does not have any influence on the quality of your magic.« Of course, my first thought was that he had learnt something bad at school.
He just gazed at me, frowning. »You say you're British, yet you look and write like a fucking Egyptian!«
Even though he was probably right - I was wearing a Galabeya, which is the typical garment in Egypt, and writing Arabic at that time - I couldn't tolerate his behaviour, so I locked the door with a beck of my hand. By growing older, the more my body had chosen to leave me high and dry, I had concentrated on mastering the higher forms of magic; and you'll see where I succeded and where I ultimately failed. I do not daresay I have become a genius; for you cannot become a genius - either you are or you will never be. I was born with a bodily disease, slowly weakening me over the years, therefore I should long have been dead by now; thanks to ancient magic and alchemy I am still alive and able to write what you read now. The reason for this is that I feel a slow decrease in my physical abilities by now, forcing me to rely more and more on magic in order to sustain my life. Some day, I might not be able to wake up on my own anymore. This is why I chose to write my story now, while I can still hold a pen.
»I do not want you to talk about your ancestors like this«, I told him in a slow, stern voice.
There is one thing I would like you to know, dear reader: When I was younger, I would not see things with opened eyes. I was blind and naive - I may still be in your eyes -, driven by utopian ideals; behold, you shall not judge the day before evening's rise; you do not know the evil which comes with it. (There may be modern translations of this saying, but I chose to convey a much older speech, I have found in ancient writings and deemed worthy; in fact, I do not have many friends - most of them are long deceased, where I will follow them shortly; this is why I will embrace death with opened arms.)
The only way to tell if you are ready to die is when you do not fear death, but look forward to it; I look forward to meeting all my beloved ones.
But of course, at the time I am writing this, I do not intend to pass away too quickly. With modern magical aid combined with ancient medical knowledge, I am sure to be able to live as long as a muggle - at least.
After this unusual dispute with my son, I went on writing until my candle was burnt down completely. I then went to my wife's room silently, kindly leaning over her sleeping body and kissing her ear until she would wake.
»Shh, I would not wake you if it were not important«, I said to her, quietly.
Then I told her about my conversation with our son, asking her if she knew anything about his reasoning.
Isadora May had always been caring and understanding, for both of us. I could not imagine her having such a bad influence on Aldous; especially, since she liked my past and who I was. She was quite fond of Egyptian magical history, and I am pretty sure that if she had been able to choose, she would have chosen to be Egyptian too. Yet she had kept her own name, even after our marriage, which I had recommended warmly to her and our son - for I know the problems having a foreign name can cause.
A diffuse past
The very next day I found myself in Cairo, together with my son. Being spring, it was already quite warm here, the hot climate was a change that needs getting used to; my son obviously was not very happy about it and was complaining about it the whole time.
»Why did mother not accompany us at least?«, he asked me, scuffing his feet quite bored.
While we were walking in an alley of palm trees, I couldn't help having a bad feeling about my relationship to my only son. Nevertheless, I did have a plan in mind.
»Mother has to work, it's hard to get free when you're serving in a business«, I replied dryly.
Indeed, by the time of now I had been able to establish myself, working as an author, translator and calligrapher, and earning enough money with my writings so as to make a good living in the heart of London. Besides, this had just been an excuse - the real reason behind this meeting was spending some time alone with my son; for this was the advice Isadora had given me yesterday.
»Where are we even going to? It's hot and dry and I hate this country!«, Aldous would say in disgust, even though this was a very noble region; I know other regions of Cairo, where I would not even take bringing him there into consideration.
»We are visiting a zoo«, I replied to him.
»A muggle zoo?! Gosh, I can't imagine anything more boring! That's why we have come this far?«
Despite of his short temper, I remained calm. Furthermore, getting upset was not really in aid for my health.
»You will see more magical creatures than anywhere else in your books, and I promise you, this is the greatest magical zoo in the world - apart from the USA, maybe«, I told him, being a bit proud of my country.
»Then why couldn't we go to the USA?«, he replied almost too fast.
»Because they don't have good coffee there«, I answered informally.
By telling him this, I swear I have not been exaggerating - there was every magical creature one can possibly imagine. Should you ever choose to visit the land of the pyramids - which I wholeheartedly recommend for you to do at least once in your life - you should definitely visit the magical zoo, if possible.
Even Aldous was quite fascinated, and this is really worth something, for there are not many things able to excite him.
After leaving, I took him to the local park for a walk. I was quite happy to be able to chat with him normally for a while; until I suffered another dizzy spell.
Aldous asked me if I were alright; foolishly, I told him I was.
But when I had searched my bag, I couldn't find another bottle of my potion, which a good friend in London had given to me. In fact, I owe him more than I could ever pay him and he still never asked for any money for his work!
»I'll be alright, don't worry, my son! I just need to sit down a moment...«, I told him, heading to the next free bench I could find. As part of my punishment, it started to rain too.
»I swear, it only rains here three days in a year«, I joked, giggling silently to myself.
Of course, the rain didn't last long, for it was desert rain; being so hot, our clothes dried immediately, but it was quite a pleasant refreshment.
»You sure you're alright, dad?«, he asked me. I have to note his special care for me, which I enjoyed more than the warming rays of the sun in the morning of a summer day! »I could just apparate with you to the next hospital!«
»No, no, you have not reached adulthood yet, it is too dangerous. No muggle hospital! In case I faint, I want you to take me to this address«, I told him, writing down the name and street of my grandfather's mansion.
There his eyes opened wide. »Your grandfather?«
Of course, this had been part of the plan to introduce him to my - his - family. I felt like this could finally change his mind - as it had changed mine, many years ago.
»Yes, he is a pure blood too - like most Egyptian wizards, because they cannot mingle as easily with muggles. Some of them are arrogant, but most of them are not! They are preservers of ancient magic, the most knowledgeable people I have ever met.«
I did not expect to turn him so quickly - but after hearing my words, I could see a change in his eyes. The hatred was slowly vanishing, making room for a more caring gaze. Of course, even though he hated what I was, I was still his father.
»But - how am I supposed to find this address? I don't understand anyone here!«, he admitted, quite desperately.
This was also something I had intended - I wanted him to see that languages are important. But he was still young and I remember being very distrustful and naive at his age too; so I was able to forgive him.
»There is no need to, all of them understand your English«, I replied, coughing heavily. »But it's not too late to learn Arabic. I remember trying to teach it to you, but you refused quite succesfully.«
I was almost sure I had seen a short blush on his face.
I don't know what happened afterwards - for I fainted right in his arms.
While I couldn't have faked the faint, I deliberately had taken only one bottle of my potion to Egypt. I knew it had been risky, but this was the only way to get to know my son better.
A memorable acquaintance
I must admit, I wasn't so sure where I would wake up again - but when I gazed into the warm brown eyes of my loving grandfather, I knew I had made the right decision!
»So old and still so naive, aiwah!«, he said in his typical Egyptian accent, yet smiling gladly.
»I knew I was in good hands«, I replied, answering his smile and glancing at my son who was standing beside him.
»And so you are!«, Iskandar replied, shaking my son's hand fondly. »What a big boy you have become! If only my wife could see you! Maybe she's gazing down from the sky!« He smiled sadly, yet contently.
I carefully watched Aldous' reactions. I could clearly see his astonishment, rendering him speechless for a moment.
»When I last saw you, you were a small boy!«, Iskandar said, gesturing the size of a four-year-old with his hand. Now, when standing, he had to look up to meet his gaze.
Aldous was smiling hesitantly. He obviously didn't remember the last time being here in his grand-grand-fathers mansion, and I suddenly regretted returning back to England back then; his attitude towards this land and its wizards would no doubt have been different if he had spent his youth here, but I had wanted him to grow up in England for the same reason I had chosen to spend my life there - even though I do appreciate Egypt nowadays, living here is combined with certain difficulties. The wizarding world is quite big, yet small in comparison to the British one; thus, it sadly is full of incest, bringing forth people like my former wife.
»And you! Where did you leave my daughter, tell me, is she well?«, Iskandar addressed me.
Ere I could reply myself, Aldous had interrupted him: »Your aunt?«
»Yes«, I told him. »His daughter also lives in London. She is really well, as is her daughter!«
Now, Iskandar seemed to disagree, suddenly frowning. »You didn't tell him about her? Ya salaam! Why do British people have to be so mysterious?«
At once, all of us broke out into laughter. After applying the potion to me, we found ourselves sitting in front of a round table in the middle of a small garden, bordered by palms and laurel bushes. A hot, cosy wind was blowing through the streets, the trees rustling.
»Ah! It feels good to be here again!«, I said, leaning backwards and enjoying my hot hibiscus tea.
»It feels good to have you here again«, Iskandar replied immediately, taking a sip of his peppermint tea. »And your offspring, of course! Tell me everything!«
After all, we spent a nice evening chatting and narrating about all events in the future and in the past and in the present. I am pretty sure Aldous was able to catch some new impressions of Egyptian wizardry - unlike many Europeans, we do care for each other and hold together when necessary. There is also rivalry, yet only to a certain extent. I did not intend to make him fond of it; I just wanted to show him the truth.
So, right before we left, I led him through the city, showing him my favourite café, where I had spent hours of reading and studying. I did not keep anything away from him; neither the dirt in the muggle streets of Old Cairo, nor the short tempered behaviour of our muggle men; he even seemed to feel amused by the latter.
A salutary conclusion
I have not written this to show you the glory of Egypt; for there is none left in the streets of modern Cairo. Neither did I intend to get any more attention than I already have; I just wanted to show you the very best experience I had in my life. Of course, there are many more; as this is just the beginning of the story of my life, but I wanted it to start with my last memory. I will then commence to tell you everything from the beginning: my very first thoughts, the demise of my beloved mother, the agony of my father, my first marriage, my daughter, my war against the dark arts of magic, my second and beloved wife - the gods may bless her -, my life in Egypt and last, but not least, my final years in England; before I would return to Egypt in order to be buried where my spirit belongs - among the ancestry of an ancient family that can trace back its very roots to the beginning of a glorious civilisation, having witnessed its rise and fall, but keeping their knowledge alive in their very hearts.
I have always tried to keep their heritage alive, in order to finally come up with one sad truth: you cannot keep a sinking ship from sinking - you can but try to save as many people as you can. A ship only sails as long as there are people sailing it; but when there is no one left who knows how to sail it, it is doomed to sink.
However, their wisdom is living on in modern wizards, shaping them even if they do not know it. Even I, who I am not even born in the land of my forefathers, do feel the presence of the gods in my writings. I do not know why they wanted me to pass away so early; maybe it is a blessing, for they are calling for me, and the urge to follow their call gets stronger with every day I spend on earth.
Like I said, death is just another step; taking it requires courage.
I should probably be thankful to them; knowing all the time I would not outlive my father in jail, I was able to gather much more knowledge and wisdom than many others. My mind being my only companion in these my last days, I keep to myself and my quiet friends in whose decayed pages I found all the support I needed.
Let me just refer to one more thing, before I will go on with the whole story from the beginning.
After returning from Egypt with my son, who was nearly adolescent by the time, he became a different person. I would not have guessed this journey could have such an impact on him, but I erred.
He started to even learn the language of our ancestors - ancient Egyptian - through which so much knowledge had been passed over, as well as our present kinsmen's.
He even agreed to translate my memoirs, so you can read it now, for I have written them in Arabic, which I deemed more fit to convey such a message.
I am sure he will care for my beloved wife once I am gone - so she may outlast me for many years, and, hopefully, find a new husband to love, for I do not want her to be alone, like I had been for so many years, while chasing the memory of a life I could never have.
I have to say good-bye for now, dear reader, for my arms have grown weary and my body must rest.
Forasmuch the gods will it, I am to continue this story the next time I find the strength to guide my pen.
[Ann.: I have translated my father's memoirs as a reminiscence of his life as good as possible. Since his handwriting is not always readable - especially at the end - I had to improvise to put it into good English. Since he used an archaic style of writing, I tried to keep to this style. Wherever necessary, I added filling words in order to sustain the writing flow.]