Scorched Sand
Abby Ebon
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
Disclaimer: 'Ello again darlings, as you've decided you approve, I shall continue. Just remember, I'm nobody famous, and if you send letters or e-mails to them about my work, you could get my ass in a very large frying pan under a bonfire, think Jack Sparrow barbeque – or you could get me published; either way, it'll be a risk to fic updates and its best not to do it.
Note; the pairing in this story is Mehen (Ardeth) / Harry, with lusty undercurrents of Imhotep / Harry…by the way ducklings, I'm an Ancient-Egypt nut, and most of the things here about the people and their oddities are true – according to "What Life Was Like: ON THE BANKS OF THE NILE. Egypt (3050-30 BC)"
Thus; please be aware ahead of time, Harry is not bald! The Egyptians really did put hair wigs (think "primitive hair nets") on top of their own hair. Probably as a covering for their own hair from the cone of ox tallow scented with myrrh, tangles were no fun to get out even some three-thousand years ago.
They did, both genders, shave (with something that looks sickeningly closer to a knife then a razor blade) everything everywhere else (legs, armpits, arms, belly, chest, and even the pubic area is suspected), though; just not your hair on your head, to be bald and proud of it – and not have someone wince – was a rare sight. It makes a certain sort of sense, think about summer, then think about a desert, and sand, and sweat, and the Nile? It is drinking water (and toilet)… so, bathing? Optional; after all, 'perfume' is the mandatory.
- A Linguistic Key -;
"This is what Ancient Egyptian Speak looks like in this story, aye?"
"God-Speak will look like this (though you already knew that)."
"This is Parseltongue. You probably guessed."
"Normal speaking, i.e. English, or Harry is speaking. Obviously we have communication issues."
Further sites of interest;
http : // www . touregypt . net / godsofegypt / index . htm
http : // www . pantheon . org /
http : // www . godchecker . com /
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
In Which We Learn To Act Like An Egyptian
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
"Seti."
Harry echoed his name perfectly. Tasting its truth on his tongue, and the bitterness in his mouth, became the slow numbness of disbelief. In the moment Harry said it aloud, it became glaringly obvious that this was, no matter how unbelievable, also true. Of the Egypt he had studied before going into Hogwarts, he remembered nothing of the modern palace he had seen upon coming out from the desert.
Seti looked down at Harry with some surprise; Harry had to resist gawking back. Though the reason for Seti's surprise, and the reason for Harry's were after all, entirely different. Seti was surprised that what he had thought was a savage could pronounce noble Egyptian names with ease.
Nefertiri, who had called her father here after Imhotep had brought him into the palace, looked very pleased; indeed, she had every right to be. Her father's advisers had told him to ignore her summons to see the stranger. That, surely, some foreign savage could not be more important then the matters of his lands.
Now, however, upon seeing the stranger and hearing him speak, he was convinced he had made the right decision in venturing here to glimpse the foreigner. Where there was one that could learn their tongue, there were more.
"You see now, father? He can speak correctly." Nefertiri told Seti this, while the boy blinked up at her, he understood her. She knew it to be true. It was, yet to Harry, every word echoed upon itself into warped English, as if heard from beneath still water.
"We shall see, daughter." Seti murmured softly, not yet prepared to admit all his advisers and priests had been utterly in the wrong. Seti glanced then at the only door into the guest chambers, clearly expecting someone to come through at any moment. In but a moment longer, Harry's suspicions would be proven right.
Harry watched wide-eyed as a man, imposing, tall- and bald and shaved, entered the chambers. There was something in the way he moved that told Harry that this man was dangerous in his own right and not to be underestimated. The others Seti had brought with him, they looked upon this not-stranger with mild distaste. Not for that which he was, for his station was clearly highly regarded, but rather that it his appearance was objectionable in their eyes. Baldness and thinning hair, Harry made quick note of, was mostly frowned upon in this land. He didn't know what use he would gain of it, but it was something he knew that he might later put to use.
Nefertiri, upon having seen Harry's astonished gaze, leaned in nearer to whispered into his ear with earnest ease, seeking to settle him least he make a hasty action and startle the wary guards; "This is the man who saved you, Harii."
The man, Imhotep, Seti had called him, looked down upon him sitting very still but upright upon the bed he had awoke on; something inside Harry screamed that he should get away. He remembered the backlash of intent that washed upon his mind in the aftermath of a spell. Harry, uncomfortable with the sensation, had shoved it down, silencing it – only later would he have wished he'd at least have sense enough to have listened to his own gut instinct, or even obeyed it.
Harry was left yet still wondering what he should do in this situation, merely nodded very carefully and clearly to Imhotep. It was not quite respect, but it was an acknowledgement. Imhotep, who looked him up and down, carefully, and something alike to approval mixed with lust flickered in his dark gaze.
"Thank you." Harry found himself saying, without getting approval from his brain. What was he saying that for? This man knew how strange Harry found this place. Was he saying 'thank you for lusting after me and making me realize how stupid envy is?'; regardless, the damage had been done. Imhotep merely nodded silently in acknowledgement of the greeting – and the gratitude.
Harry, though, wondered at what they heard when he spoke; was it like when they spoke to him? He hoped he didn't echo and warp their language. Still, now Seti seemed even more intrigued with him. Harry remembered too late that he hadn't spoken words, only names. Maybe despite his clear difference from them, they wouldn't consider how strange it was, his speaking their tongue.
"I trust you are well rested, Harii?" Imhotep spoke softly to him, his kohl lined eyes dark. It was as if he knew that Harry had wanted to bolt from him and trying to sway him into staying. When he looked to them to gauge how to go onward, neither Nefertiri nor Seti seemed to think anything was wrong with this so clearly important man taking an interest in him, Harry deemed it alright to speak with Imhotep.
Nonetheless, instead of speaking, Harry nodded an affirmative, but otherwise remained stubbornly silent; frowning only slightly, Imhotep let him alone.
"Where do you come from?" Seti took the time to ask, apparently having his own agenda of questions to ask of the boy-man, who had wondered through the desert at night; only to end up collapsed on the palace steps in the morning. It was not all that surprising to want to know that much of him. At least with Seti, Harry knew where he stood; he had to answer, or risk insulting a man that deemed himself a ruler in his own land and birthright. If he insulted Seti, he knew he'd be punished – unknowing savage (a disguise he was too quickly shedding them of) or not.
It did not much surprise him, the asking. Harry had known this question would have to come up sooner or later - although he had hoped he wouldn't be asked so soon after waking; he felt at that moment very prone and defenseless, in a chamber surrounded by the guards and confidents of an ancient ruler.
"Far away; I do not remember the way.It doesn't matter, I am alone." Harry muttered, slightly bitter in this, his words broken up toward the end. He cursed himself mentally, when he heard Nefertiri inhale with surprise; then he reviewed what he had said. What had they found fault in? He at least, should have known better to speak in such a way around curious people used to getting their way in things. Maybe if he had said it in a more diplomatic way. Yet he was tired, so some self-excuse could be argued for his own sake. Nefertiri turned to look down at him, something akin to sorrow in her eyes. Harry, at that moment, was just glad it wasn't pity. It had to be bad, whatever he'd unintentionally let slip.
"You are an outcast?" Seti asked in disbelief, and Harry realized quite suddenly that in this time, no one traveled into, or out of, the desert with no destination. Unless, of course, if they were outcasts of their society, or roving bandits. Which was, when Harry thought of it, the most likely reason the people of this time who lived in these lands thought so lowly of people born outside their lands; they had only encountered the dredges of other societies of this time.
Yet, Seti and Nefertiri seemed willing to look past this. And this was despite Harry's marked foreign appearance; he did not, to them, seem the type of person who would become a bandit or outcast. Harry found himself laughing, and really – he found - he couldn't help it. It was, to him, ironic; he was the hero of his time, and yet, thought an outcast or thief in this the ancient past.
Nefertiri and Seti looked between each other, sharing looks of concern and some alarm; together then, they looked to Imhotep, who frowned down at the hysterical boy, worry alight in his eyes. Then, upon seeing out of the corner of his eyes, their looks, Imhotep turned easily his attention to them, finding an answer smoothly at the tip of his tongue.
"Likely this is some form of sun-sickness." Imhotep said, giving them a perfectly sane reason for Harry's rather bewildering behavior. The behavior explained away for a natural reaction rather then a possession or curse, they let the teenager finish his burst of laughter. Although, secretly both Nefertiri and Imhotep thought something was off in the way he laughed; as if it pained him.
"Perhaps… it would be best if we announced his arrival during the duel tonight." Nefertiri spoke, trying to bring some normalcy into the situation. Seti looked then to his daughter, guessing her reasons and frowned slightly. The guards knew of all the royal family held within the palace; and to announce a stranger in the presence of so many, was to invite Harry to stay for far longer then some of the more favored ambassadors from foreign lands were allowed. Yet, Harry was a curiosity, and one Seti intended to get to the heart of.
"Are you sure of this, daughter?" Seti probed carefully, and Nefertiri, her mind already quite firmly set in her decision, gestured that she was. Harry, it seemed, would not get a choice in whatever either were planning. Which, honestly, was to be expected, he gathered; rulers were not in the habit of considering strangers from unknown lands their equals. Harry knew he could not expect it of them.
"I should get him cleaned up; if, as your daughter insists, he is to watch her duel with Anck-su-namun." Imhotep spoke out, and Nefertiri paused, and then abruptly nodded, in if unhappy agreement. Yet, it was clear to her father that she was still wary of Imhotep doing something with Harry, who she'd so acutely formed a bond with. Not thinking much of his daughter's suspicions, Seti merely grinned at Imhotep, clasping him on the shoulder as a clear and favored friend.
"I trust you, and your fellow priests, shall do a fine job! Come my daughter; let us go greet my future-wife." Seti spoke, and then motioned for Nefertiri to follow him out. Harry watched them leave, and their guards; until all who remained in the room was him self – and Imhotep. He looked to the other, expectant, but abiding his time; it would do him no good to rush into anything. Most especially as his own instincts about this man, and Nefertiri's were one and the same.
"Lay still, Harii." Imhotep had asked, or rather (as Harry well knew), ordered of him. Imhotep gave him something to drink, his face expressionless. Harry, suspicious, smelt it; it smelt of some herb, then for the first time in quite a while, he wished he had paid better attention in Herbology.
Neville, if he were here, would tell him – after having a good laugh over his rather suspicious position.
"It will help with the sun-sickness." Imhotep told Harry, somewhat reassuring, his tone suggesting a mild rebuttal for doubting him. Harry, swallowing down his suspicions- and drowning the voice inside his head that sounded like Mad-Eye Moody yelling at him for his stupidity, drunk the substance.
Harry felt the effects quite quickly, time seemed to blur and slow, nonetheless Imhotep descended upon him as if in a rush, but Harry felt as if he were not fit to judge with time passing so dizzyingly. He made quick work of striping him of his robe, cutting him out of form-fitting pants, and the military-style tunic was quickly slit from the neck to the trim. There seemed no mercy in Imhotep to save anything – not even undergarments - and it wasn't as if Harry wanted all this to happen. Harry tried to struggle, tried to yell- but couldn't. It gave him a sickening feeling in his throat and gut, forcing him still to let it pass or fear throwing up. That he learned the hard way, groaning softly as he closed his eyes and tried to will the lurching sea-sickness away.
The next thing Harry knew, Imhotep had applied a skin cream- and Harry did not want to know what was in it.
Then, just as time seemed to be going too quickly for Harry to ever catch up, Imhotep stepped foreword. Closer. His dark eyes took in everything about Harry's body, and he seemed pleased by what he was seeing.
Harry shivered, never in his life had he been looked at in that way. Imhotep came closer – invading his personal space, raising his hand to brush his fingertips across Harry's forehead and cheek, to tilt his chin up, Imhotep's dark eyes gazing into Harry's green ones.
Harry locked eyes with Imhotep, silently pleading, asking with his eyes what they, what he, was doing, or was going to do with him.
Then Imhotep, taking out a thing that would have looked like a hatchet- if not for the curved handle pressed it against Harry's cheek - and Harry found himself holding his breath, and Imhotep – seeing his, smirked.
"Stay still." Imhotep ordered, then, much to Harry's shock, Imhotep started to use the 'razor' he started with Harry's chin and off came the stubble on his cheeks, using some soapy substance. Harry laid still, at first, because he felt so removed from what was happening; wide eyed and not quite believing that this was happening to him.
Harry thought he might be done (having also decided at last minute that his eyebrows and nose hairs needed a trim), after he'd finished plucking his eyebrows– but no, Imhotep moved onto Harry's underarms, each time scrubbing thoroughly to be sure there was not a stand of hair left on his skin. Despite that (or because of this fact) Imhotep showed some skill in this. Harry didn't want to end up with cuts, and had come to realize in bewildered half-amused despair that perhaps Imhotep would not be content until every little bit of hair Harry had was gone.
Harry had best lay there and take it and let it be over with. He'd deal later with what it all meant that Imhotep himself was intent to shave Harry with such skilled careful long and short strokes, such methodical precision must of have been put to other uses of value. Why waste it upon Harry?
By the time Imhotep was through, or Harry thought he was- everything from underarms to his arms, chest, and legs – and a lot in-between had been shaved. Then Imhotep started to go down there, between his legs, and Harry tensed, letting out a whimper; Imhotep noticed (how could he not?) and looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Do you want lice?" Was the softly hissed question, but not – yet – a threat or demand; and Imhotep was listening to him, waiting – not ignoring him. And while Harry didn't, in fact, want lice, he did insist (by pointing his eyes to the door) that Imhotep leave.
"I'll do it." His voice wavered, it was not a demand – it was begging and he knew it. Please don't. His eyes pled with a darker pair, silently. Harry didn't want Imhotep to do this; he wanted this to be the end of it, as far as it would go.
It was quite obvious what with the firm touches Imhotep had gifted him with that Imhotep was more interested in Harry then Harry thought he should be allowed. Even going so far as to play with Harry's nipple to "keep from cutting it", along with the would-be deadly razor-blade caresses with just the slightest difference in pressure and care.
The instance sticking to Harry's mind the most was Imhotep shaving his throat and nicking his neck – lapping up the blood with his tongue. Imhotep wanted him, wanted to screw him; and Harry wasn't nearly so obvious or ignorant to think what Imhotep could do to him and have Harry at his mercy without much protest in so foreign a land as this.
Imhotep chuckled dark – soft, as if he had understood all that crossed Harry's mind and thought it charming or innocent. He trailed the hatchet-ax 'razor' down from the dip in Harry's throat to his navel. Harry swallowed then, when Imhotep – his eyes dark and sharp having seen Harry's face as he had moved the blade downwards; Harry found his breath shallow and careful. Imhotep had more then made his point. He had the power here; could do with Harry as he wanted, and no one would protest his right. Imhotep smiled then, triumphant; knowing full well that Harry had realized his place.
Then without a word more, Imhotep started, cradling in his long fingers Harry's most senstitive places, and with his other the blade. Harry shut his eyes tightly, inhaling quickly to hold his breath. He couldn't look, could not risk breathing – it did not matter to Harry how carefully Imhotep treated him, how precious and venerable he felt. He hated this, right now – and, worse, knew he was excited by it. It was stimulating, the newly smooth skin tingled and the blade felt rough and firm rather then hard and sharp and deadly.
He felt those fingers, nails trimmed and soft skinned, move teasing – taunting, while Harry was caught in Imhotep's grip and at his mercy. Harry didn't trust him, but still it stuck him low, how easily Harry could find himself trusting Imhotep. This act, whatever else it was, built trust and some sick clinging form of dependence twisted at Harry guiltily.
Harry realized he was breathing again. It came softly, lulled into the feeling of safety Imhotep had inevitably inspired within him. And lust, as Harry had never slackened in that. Harry felt the effects of the drug slowly lifting, though he knew they weren't gone completely. He had no idea how much time had passed.
He knew he was getting hard, already rigid and firm with Imhotep's fingers tangling around him, moving him so the wicked blade could scrape his sensitive and fragile flesh smooth. Imhotep shifted, as Harry felt the warm air move around his bare skin. A breath blew gently at loins, a finger circling the head of his member.
Harry shivered, and could not help himself.
"Do you seek your release, Harii…?" Imhotep asked of him, no taunt in his voice. He was asking Harry, giving him a choice – and Harry clung to it as fact, even if he could not help his answer.
"Yes." Harry whispered it, broken and trembling; unable to help who he trusted.
"Then I shall give this to you. A gift." Imhotep murmured breathily, warm and slick mouth closing around his flesh. Harry dared not look; but that did not mean he could not feel. He felt it tucking at him, building upon him, aware that he had spread his legs and thighs for Imhotep unasked so the other could settle between them more comfortably. He lay there, sprawled and wanton, like some waiting pleasure-slave at the mercy of Imhotep.
It thrilled him, as much as he felt the blow of self-disgust. He did not care in the moment – could not care.
"Aaa, Please!" Harry spoke, begged breathlessly – for the first time unprompted. Around him, he felt Imhotep's lips stretch into something like a smile, he made a pleased noise, in the back of his throat, as if a purring cat. Harry writhed on the bed, helpless, as the noise Imhotep had made so encouragingly became his undoing.
Harry felt it, newly sensitive, as Imhotep carefully cleaned him with lips and tongue.
"You will remember." Imhotep told him, and even if it was not order or threat, Harry knew he would. Listless and groggy, he nodded. A finger touched his smooth cheek, brushed it attentively and gently – and Harry opened his eyes to see Imhotep regarding the wetness of Harry's tears on his fingertips.
"Yes…" Harry said, agreeing – for something had to be said. Imhotep smiled, and Harry saw it for the first time that it was honest and pleased.
Harry had held a small hope that Imhotep was done with him, then, but apparently it was not to be. It was then, with Harry unsuspecting and relaxed, that Imhotep started on the makeup.
Harry found out later that they had some very good reasons for using the eye shadow-like stuff and skin cream. Apparently, the kohl protected his eyes from the sun. Although Harry didn't see the reason why his kohl had to be grey on the eyebrows and eyelid, and blue on the bottom – it made him look even more feminine.
The skin cream, he learned rather uncomfortably when he asked, was a mix of alligator fat, and plant extracts- it was supposed to smooth and soften skin. It served to make Harry itchy…although, to be fair, it was 'improved' with the pungent scents of some flowers and herbs – so that could have been a part of the reason that it had irritated his skin.
It was also supposed to hide body odor – Harry thought it worked rather well, if you didn't mind the slick cream that made holding anything a potential hazard. Though, that too may have been why Harry remembered that he heard Imhotep whisper that he had soft hands, and must be very important where he came from – because soft handed people didn't need to do work. Harry said nothing, for what was he supposed to say? Insist he knew weapons better then some of his own people who had fought for him for years in a War that had not happened?
Harry was then dressed (finally) in white linen, which was more then slightly see-through; enough that he might as well have not been dressed at all. Harry didn't protest this though; because he reasoned that some fabric between his body and Imhotep's eyes was better then none at all.
He was then ornamented in a necklace of colorful jeweled stones, gold bracelets and armbands, and an ivory ring with a gold beetle atop of it. Imhotep explained that it showed Seti's – and in turn, the rest of the royal family's approval of him. Harry was only careful enough to keep his fingers clasped loosely about his palm, so that Imhotep would not see the black stone beneath the skin there.
Then, as if to mock him, Imhotep put him in a wig of human hair, straitened; which fell in a feminine wave to his shoulders. Then a cone of ox tallow scented with myrrh was placed atop that, and because Harry could now feel his lips and tongue; his body was beginning to tingle uncomfortably, and he made an effort to speak again trying not to think of what else he had let Imhotep do to him so short a time ago.
"Why?" Harry choked out, but Imhotep merely smirked at him.
"It was perfectly harmless,Harii, I assure you, and the effects of the potion are short-lived. Tonight there is to be entertainment followed by a banquet. The cone will melt, and instead of getting into your hair – will go onto the wig, face, and clothes. You would not want to embarrass Seti or Nefertiri, now would you?" Imhotep then looked him over a final time, gave him sandals, and then he led Harry to where Seti, Anck-su-namun, and Nefertiri awaited them with the others of the household. Harry was careful to sit as far from Imhotep as he could. He felt that Imhotep saw this, and knew – and was more amused by his skittishness then insulted.
Harry had never been more uncomfortable and embarrassed in his life – a fact Imhotep still seemed to take great amusement in, standing beside Seti; watching Anck-su-namun and Nefertiri duel in cat-masks.
I guess I know where the term 'cat-fight' came from… Harry was more then slightly amused by this thought until Imhotep caught his eye.
Harry blushed- a fact most of these people had began to take great amusement in. For, because Harry was so much paler then those around him – his blushes were the most noticeable. Not entirely unwillingly, Harry remembered what had happened in the chamber after Seti and the others had left.
Harry made a point of watching Anck-su-namun and Nefertiri finish their duel – all the while remembering.
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
Notes; just some stories I found – and made up as challenges – for Harry/Mummy searchers.
Found in Harry Potter, the Mummy Crossovers;
[Title (story ID #)- Author (author ID #)- Publication Date]
Summaries below.
The Mummy-Hogwarts style (#344751)–Nikolina(#89618)-7-7-01
**REVISED** Two in one!* Seen The Mummy too many times. Like Harry Potter too much. This is what happens.
The Wizard Returns (#686234)-dutchtulips(#28653)-3-28-02
HP / The Mummy Returns crossover, with Ron as our strapping hero Rick O'Connell, and lovely 'Mione as the intellectual Evie. . .and. . .who else? read on to find out. . .(chapter 8 up)
The Dark Lord Returns (#741638)-Joan of Arc (#180894)-4-25-02
(The Mummy/Harry Potter)It has been 20 years since Harry,Hermoine,and Ron left and Hemoine are married and have a 8-year-old son named perfect domestic tranquility is shattered when the Dark Lord Voldermont returns.
The Mummy Returns - Harry Potter Style~ (#869471) -SilverTears13 (#181357)- 7-23- 02
Exactly what the title says...all those who've seen The Mummy Retuns should remember this...WARNING: H/Cho; Hr/R, L/A (my characters)...
The World Beyond her Own! (#2068918)-Half-blood-princess-665 (#658064)- 9-23-04
What happens when Evy discovers that the ancient egyptians were wizards!And what does harry find out about the egyptian era. read and review. please. it's a Harry potter fic xover with the mummy.
Memories of the Past (#2090272) -Ron'sgoddess (#666381)- 10-10-04
A cross between Harry Potter and one of my favorite movies The Mummy. Hermione finds out something about her past. And who's that new DADA professor and why does she look so familiar? RWHG! COMPLETE
Desert Warrior (#2549730), sequel is Desert Mage (#5299226)-Shade Dancer (#704152) - 8-24-05
(Desert Warrior)
HP Mummy Returns xover. The Dursely's took Harry with them to Egypt and then gave his life to the desert. The Gods had other plans though and Harry became a warrior of the desert, a Medjai. TO FLAMERS WHO CANNOT READ ANs THE STORY IS NOT SLASH.
&
(Desert Mage)
Sequel to Desert Warrior. No slash. How will Kedar's Medjai training hold up against these new challenge that face him.
Desert Child, Sand Warrior (#3092602) –Holly-Marie Rose (#299308). -8-7-06
AU Harry is still a child. After a episode of great pain he makes makes a wish to be somewhere else, somewhere where he can be free. Then, next thing you know his is clamed by the Egyption Desert as one of its future fic w the Mummy
A Scorpions Quest For Life and Death (#3311041)-ainaak ka-lyrra (#1077735)- 12-27-06
X over with The Scorpion King Both of The Mummy movies and Resident Evil Apocalypse. This is a SLASH story between Harry and my OC. Being edited.
A Past Life Returns (#4689590) – Ven Valerius (#1755496) - 12-1-08
Harry/Mummy x-over. No slash but it is implied. Harry is Haru, re-incarnated prince. Sorry to anyone who was looking forward to it but it WILL be in the sequel...if it ever gets written
Harry Potter and the Book of Amun Ra (#1955675) - Jedi Buttercup (#183901) –7-10-04
600 words, one-shot. Voldemort discovers that when asked for "immortality", he should have specified "immortal life" ...
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
For people who've taken my challenges (below); if you have taken one of these challenges and are not listed here (or on my author page), please inform me as soon as possible!
Secrets that Lie beneath the Desert Sand (#4032031) - SesshomaruFan552014 (#895135) - 1-24-08
Answering AbeoUmbra challenge: After defeating the Dark Lord, Harry Potter travels to Egypt with Bill to break a curse on a tomb, the Ma-jei know that Imhotep lay within that tomb and if the curse is broken, he will be free once more. Rating may rise. Yoai.
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
Challenge 1: Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, went with Ron and his family to Egypt. After an 'attack' on the group by a group of mysterious black-cloaked riders (the Ma-jei), Harry Potter disappears among them. In fact, the Ma-jei protected the family from going into Hamunaptra – and had little choice in taking the Boy-Who-Lived… Why? Well, that's what you have to read/write and find out.
Challenge 2: After defeating the Dark Lord, Harry Potter travels to Egypt with Bill to break a curse on a tomb, the Ma-jei know that Imhotep was laid within that tomb – and if the 'curse' is broken, he will be free once more. So, in hopes of warning off Bill and the rest, they kidnap Harry Potter, who is far more powerful then they expected – and so Ardeth is instructed by the Elders of the Ma-jei to keep watch over him. Instead, he falls in love.
Challenge 3: In search of the Desert Dragons, which some say are myth, and others a fact, Harry and Charlie head to Egypt – and little do they know that with the Ma-jei guiding them, that they are guided by the Desert Dragons themselves, the Ma-jei, who can change into dragons at will. In a sand storm the Ma-jei are forced to change in order to protect the two wizards. When the storm is over – Harry has fallen in love – the question is, with whom?