My deepest apologies that it has been near a year since I previously updated this. I planned to continue to update this, however then the whole JK Rowling transphobia came out, and I questioned whether I wanted to continue. I decided to, but then ended up focusing more on my original stories while my inspiration for this was lacking. One thing led to another and the next thing I know its 2021. I'm going to do my best to continue to update this, especially since we are so close to the end, but I'm going to set a date of every other week for updates.
For now, please enjoy this update! This chapter decided to be a pain to write, so I'm hoping that it came out alright!
Thank You to everyone who favourited/followed/reviewed. I'm afraid I am pressed for time this week and so will answer your reviews/questions next chapter!
Atem woke to the feeling of hard gold under him. Golden bands protected his wrists from the chains binding him to the throne. The room was a facimile of the buried throne room from a now destroyed palace. Remnants of a time long gone five thousand years ago.
And Nofret was dead.
Not just dead, as a ghost. Dead, gone, unable to enter the afterlife and be judged before Osiris and Inpu. Her bright presence was gone, torn to shreds and lost to the Shadows. And Haphiri… her presence was obscured, a pulsing sickly green light pounding in time with the ache in his head and chest.
Leering up at him from below the makeshift dais, Voldemort preened in glee.
"And so, the all powerful Pharaoh is brought to his knees," the man hissed in delight. Atem raised an eyebrow.
"You have no idea of what you are messing with, do you?" he noted. He didn't bother pulling at chains. Voldemort might be here, but it wasn't he that Atem feared. The corner of the room held a horrifying figure, smirking up at him, amused. "But I suppose living under the thumb of the Atlantean leaves one in the dark." Voldemort snarled, fingers twitching towards his wand… and staying that way. Dartz slipped further into the room.
"I shall deal with the little Pharaoh," he drawled, green and gold focused solely elsewhere. "Go play with the Priest." I have to trust that Seto can get out of this… Atem swallowed the blood welling at the back of his throat. I am running out of time. Rapidly.
And from that look, Dartz knew it as well.
"Such a shame," Dartz purred, fingers ghosting his cheek, the twisted shade of care. Atem flinched away, glaring up at him. "You may have been saved, so close to salvation… And you let it slip away."
"And you haven't taken my soul. Yet." He refused to cough, to show weakness to this man. A man, who could see right through the bluff. Akhefia, I hope you salvaged something.
"The moment the other half is collected… I shall have you." He drew back, smirking. "And if not. Well, one Pharaoh's soul is much like the other. And the wizards were never very good at keeping Tomb Keepers at bay." Atem stifled a shudder.
"So, this is a trap." He balled his fists against the chair. "And the scene set to throw him off long enough to steal his soul."
"If Alistair hasn't already, then yes." Dartz looked just a little too satisfied. Atem glared.
"You know, you really should pay more attention to ghosts," he said conversationally. "I hear there are some very interesting ones living out in the desert where the other half of my soul happens to be." Dartz stiffened. He gripped him by the chin, green and gold blazing ice cold.
"You know nothing of which you speak." Atem met him, glare for glare.
"You stole my sister, killed the other. Why shouldn't I have looked for weaknesses in your mask?" He smirked right back, cold as only a ruler could be to another. "I wonder, did you ever tell Raphael you murdered your own daughter?" Even knowing it was coming, Atem still swayed at the blow to his face.
"Enough!" Dartz massaged bent fingers which had hit the crown, rather than flesh, although not all of them. It had saved him from a black eye (and Atem silently thanked Haphiri for having it designed that way) but not staved off the complete blow. His cheekbone pulsed with the pain of a blooming bruise. Heh, even half dead, I can piss him off. Thrilling stuff really, and right about the same activities that would have Akhefia cursing him out and Seto considering sitting on him again. "You, are a blight to the world. You, wizards, most of humankind. You are greedy, spiteful, evil creatures who do not deserve this world." Spitting blood, Atem eyed him with a raised eyebrow. So, there is a human being under there.
"You've never had someone around long enough to tell you that you are wrong, have you?" Atem almost pitied him. "At least, not since your father, or Chris, or Iona." Hatred rippled across Dartz's face. For a moment, Atem thought he was going to strangle him.
Orichalcum pulsed in time with Atem's head, a spike of nausea going through him. I really hate that rock, he thought spitefully.
"Iona, it turned out, was as evil as the rest of them," Dartz said, taking in a deep breath, the orichalcum digging deep. "Ironheart ought to have known better than to stand up to his betters. And Chris…" Something almost like regret crossed his face. "Chris was unfortunate and chose the wrong people to put her trust in. I told her, promised her that I would keep her safe, in the light of the Orichalcos. Instead, she chose to flee."
"And you chose to steal from me, what was stolen from you," Atem spat. Dartz cocked an eyebrow, curious and triumphant.
"Ah, so you can sense her, even from here." He was smirking again. "That is good. Especially since that brat hosting your other half stole my soldier from me." Atem remembered moulting wings in a corridor, and almost wished he would live long enough to congratulate The Spirit of the Puzzle. Breaking the power of orichalcum over someone wasn't easy. Severus was fighting it with every fibre of his being, pulling on old magic and blood inherited from the Prince's and still, he was barely hanging on. Only a powerful sense of self and a promise made on a dark night upon hearing of the death of Lily Potter kept him sane in the face of such dark magic.
He prayed Dartz never thought to hand some to Harry. The boy had enough problems already, without throwing the Orichalcos on top.
"I pity you," Atem said, ignoring that statement. Dartz reared back, as if physically struck. "You think I am evil, for the choices of the Nameless Pharaoh? I know the poison you whispered into Nanuphara's ears. The souls you stole within both Akkadia and Egypt. I know how you twisted Haphiri's grief after you stole her son, Mnenosene. Set won't forgive you that, either."
"I do not see how this involves pity for me," Dartz said pointedly. He wasn't bothering to attack. The orichalcum weakened Atem, made him dizzy and sick, where he had already been after the Spirit activated the Seal. All he had to do was wait, and time would offer him the other half of the Nameless Pharaoh's soul on a silver platter.
"You are so caught within the Orichalcos and the twisting vines of the Leviathan, you cannot see true evil anymore. You cannot see how twisted you have become." Bracing for another blow, Atem looked him in the eye. "Akhefia once told me he was glad his family of Kul Elna were dead. So they would never see what he had become, all those millennia ago. Which would be why Ironheart and Chris, throughout your long wanderings, have never sought you out either. Because it would break their hearts all over again." Pure hatred filled Dartz's eyes, but he restrained himself.
"Then let their hearts break," he hissed.
It was all the opening Seto needed to set Dios on him.
Kheftan was practically shaking with anger, restrained only by Hakmit's hand on his wrist. The Minster of Magic for Egypt met Fudge's eyes evenly, mouth set in a grim line under her hijab, eyes narrowed. Fudge stammered excuse after excuse, sweating profusely.
Bill could sense that he knew it was over the moment they walked in the room.
"Minister Fudge," Hakmit interrupted him, in the middle of stumbling through a terrible explanation of the decision to appoint a High Inquisitor for Hogwarts. "We are not here to play politics. It is shameful that you would assume we are here as allies of this opponant of yours, Dumbledore." Fudge's mouth closed with a click. "We at the Egyptian Ministry have been horrified to hear the reports coming from our own close allies. The Tomb Keepers may not be considered part of the magical world by your standards, but they most certainly are by ours. Do you understand?"
"Of course," Fudge said, nodding his head vigorously. In the corner, Percy was watching with wide eyes, having completely forgotten to take minuets for this meeting the moment Kheftan had stormed in demanding Umbridge's head.
"This Undersecretary of yours has attacked the Prince physically once and attempted to undermine his peaceful intentions since," Hakmit continued. "Not to mention the attacks from outside parties occurring within the grounds of your supposedly most prestigious school." Fudge swallowed.
"Madam Umbridge has been punished already by the Tomb Keepers for that attack. And as for the others, well Dumbledore will be joining us shortly-" Fudge started, wringing his hands together. Kheftan half growled. Bill sighed. This was starting to get boring.
"Minister Fudge, this occurred during your term in office. You are just as responsible for the defence of the school as much as the Headmaster. The attacks by Death Eaters world over are cause for alarm, and yet you sit here denying every story which comes your way proving that this Lord Voldemort has returned," Hakmit stated, a note of irritation in her voice. "I did not take my place in office just for the prestige that comes with the seat. I am responsible for all those relying on the Egyptian Minstry of Magic for safety and prosperity. Do you not consider that our creed?"
Eyes bulging, Fudge glanced around the room, looking as if he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him. He was grasping at straws and he knew it- everyone knew that Fudge had run for office for the prestige and prestige only. Once it came to actually leading the Ministry, he tended to flop whichever way was best for public opinion. Bill wanted to hate him, but all he could summon up was a deep sense of pity for the pathetic mess Fudge had dumped himself in.
Poor Percy looked like he might implode from this knowledge alone.
"I… Minister Hakmit, this really isn't…" Fudge stammered, a bead of sweat rolling from his receding hairline down the side of his face. It dripped off the end of his chin into hands twirling his bowler hat. Kheftan ground his teeth, the sound echoing around the office as Fudge searched for words.
He was saved by the door opening and Dumbledore strolling into the room, a serene air surrounding him. He offered a polite nod to Hakmit and Kheftan, eyes sparkling.
"My sincerest apologies for being so late," he said, wand out to transfigure the final waiting chair into a chintzy armchair. Hakmit's face didn't change, except for her eyebrow to twitch. "We have been rather busy at the school, committing to the repairs of the wards."
"Wards which would not be broken if you had done the job you promised," Kheftan growled. Hakmit didn't stop him this time- Dumbledore may be famous, may have the majority of support from the general public despite Fudge's best efforts, but he was also only a Headmaster. Fudge had removed him from the Wizangamot and any advisory roles he had once had in the Ministry. His work with the Order of the Phoenix had left him neglecting any other prestigious roles he had, including running Hogwarts. Bill got the impression McGonnagal had been doing the majority of the work for several years now, practically running the school herself with little input from Dumbledore.
He wasn't sure that was a bad thing.
"My deepest apologies, Tomb Keeper Kheftan," Dumbledore said, inclining his head in the man's direction. "However, there was little I could do in terms of keeping out a ghost with such ancient power and cruel intent." Hakmit allowed the eyebrow which had been twitching to rise properly now.
"I was informed," she started delicately, holding up a piece of paper, "that you had banished her from school property. Why?" Dumbledore gave a sad little sigh.
"I am afraid she had attacked a teacher. We were not sure that she would not become a danger to the students either. We did allow her sister free access to the school, still." Hakmit hummed.
"I see. The very same teacher who then attacked the Prince and caused her to wreck your wards?" She tapped another roll of parchment in her lap. Dumbledore's face kept the same sad smile, but Bill saw his eyes flash, something cold and rigid in them. This was not going according to plan for the man. "This Raphael Schiavone has dealings in orichalcum, as attested to by the Unspeakable, Alyssa Smallwood. He was held here at the Ministry and then released on bail for one, Lucius Malfoy. Why?" She turned her attention back to Fudge.
"Mr Malfoy paid the bail," Fudge said, sounding startled and confused. "I wasn't aware he had access to this orichalcum. Whatever that is."
"Orichalcum is a substance banned by the Ministry of Magic, both Britain and Egypt, as well as the International Confederation of Wizardry as an illegal substance and Dark artefact due to its nature to seduce and brainwash its users," Bill stated, raising his own eyebrow. "I would have thought that the Minister for Magic would be familiar with all banned substances and objects within his jurisdiction." Fudge gulped.
"Orichalcum is also a very rare substance," Dumbeldore interjected, voice polite but Bill could hear the faint note of irritation beneath. "We were not aware of his use of the stone."
"Were you not?" Hakmit said silkily. There was a smug note in her voice. "I have hear a report from one, Professor Severus Snape, noting that he had brought his concerns regarding the substance and teacher to you on 29th November. The very same date at which there was an attack in Hogsmeade against one Mutou Yugi, a child protected by the Tomb Keepers under order of Prince Atem Menes." She held up the slip of parchment in question. Bill recognised Snape's spiky handwriting immediately and briefly wondered when the man had had the time to send the note on to Hakmit.
He was starting to suspect the man didn't sleep.
"I'm afraid I do not recollect such a meeting," Dumbledore said flatly. Hakmit turned to Bill.
"Mr Weasley, it seems we are at a conundrum. Could you attest to either side?" she asked. Dumbledore's gaze was sharp as he turned expectantly to Bill, as was Percy's. Internally, Bill smirked. I'm afraid that I, too, have reached the end of my rope with your manipulations old man, he thought in his general direction as he met Dumbledore's eye.
"I can attest that orichalcum was present at the attack in Hogsmeade on 29th November. I can also attest that Professor Snape was a witness to that attack- he came immediately to me in regards to Prince Atem's reaction to the substance. He has a particularly violent reaction to it. I advised him to inform Professor Dumbledore and the Ministry of the use of illegal substances within the vicinity of Hogsmeade." He paused to catch his breath. Unlike Percy, Hakmit had spelled a quill to take notes, his words copied word for word neatly on a completely separate piece of parchment. Far more reliable than a person doing the same. "Professor Snape also has links to the known Death Eater Lucius Malfoy and has expressed concern that the substance may be being distributed among them. His position at Hogwarts makes investigation into this awkward, however, as he is determined to stay out of Death Eater affairs in this war." Hakmit nodded.
"Thank you for your testimony Mr Weasley," she said gently. "I shall take it into account on my report to the International Confederation of Wizardry."
"Your what?" Fudge gasped. Even Dumbledore blinked. Hakmit gave an affected little sigh, tucking the parchment back into a single thick bundle.
"I called this meeting not just to address the problems that have occurred with the six students under our jurisdiction but to also officially inform you, as detailed by Section 13, sub-paragraph g, of the International Wizarding Laws, that I am submitting a formal report of misconduct to the International Confederation of Wizardry. This includes testimony gathered from Mr Weasley, Professor Snape, Mr Kheti, Mr Marik, Mr Menes, Unspeakable Smallwood and Mr Malfoy Junior. I must inform you all, that any action taken against informants will be seen as obstruction of justice and you will be prosecuted."
Dumbledore opened is mouth to speak. Hakmit gave him a level look.
"Professor Dumbledore, I would not if I were you. I have also gathered testimony into your gross misconduct as Headmaster via Professor McGonnagal and Madam Pomfrey over the years, including towards one, Professor Snape. And I would imagine not even you would wish to irritate Queen Mab further, by throwing her grandson under the bus with the intention of saving yourself. I hear fae curses are rather... unpleasant." With that stated, she stood, the quill having finished taking notes. She tucked both it and the parchment into her expanded pockets of her robes. "I thank you for your time, Minister Fudge."
Bill tried not to laugh into the ringing silence as she swept out of the office.
Slicing through the chains holding Atem to the faux throne was a matter of seconds with the stolen wand. Seto knew he was on limited time- Dios could only hold Dartz off for so long, the man having thrown himself to the side to avoid being sliced in two. The orichalcum around his neck glowed, bi-coloured eyes narrowed as he summoned some creature to defend himself. It was green and mechanical and a lot stronger then Dios. It was also significantly slower, allowing Seto's monster to mark the attack and move accordingly out of the way, lasting far longer in the fight than he ought to.
That was fine. Seto didn't need to win this fight. He just needed to last long enough to get himself and Atem the hell out of there.
Atem coughed wetly, blood dripping from his lips as the chains snapped. Seto helped him lever himself to his feet, wincing as his cousin staggered slightly. Beneath the natural coffee tone of his skin, he was pale. The blood loss was getting to him- he would need a blood transfusion soon considering the amount he had lost over the last few days.
"How fast can you walk?" Seto asked, cringing as pain flared across his back. Dios had dodged the energy ring Dartz's monster had used to attack, but one of his wings had been caught by falling debris from the ceiling. Atem grit him teeth, chest heaving.
"Fast enough." It was a lie- Atem could barely stand unaided, but no one ever said his cousin could be relied upon to be sensible. He had been pushing his body past its boundaries for years and he had always known this day was coming. Atem would do what it took for Seto to get out of here alive, even if it killed him. And Seto hated that he knew that as a fact.
There was a side door, which was lucky, as the main entrance Seto had used was blocked by debris. It also prevented Dartz from following them- his own monster had trapped him behind the rubble. Seto set off down the corridor, knowing it would only be a matter of time until Dios was destroyed. The pain would be immense- he had no diadhank to measure his energy levels, he was without the rod to offset some of the damage. Dios had been summoned through energy and grit alone, and the toll for a destroyed monster summoned solely by soul energy would be great.
It would be nothing compared to the agony Atem was in, forcefully putting one foot in front of the other, trembling through every step. They staggered down the corridor, through another tunnel, heading towards the surface.
A light appeared before them as it happened. Agony stabbed through his chest, as if he had just been speared with a rock. In his head, he heard Dios' pained shriek, cut off into nothingness as he was forcibly returned to the world of monsters. Seto grunted, pausing, his lungs feeling as if they were constricted. He coughed, his own blood spattering the floor. For a brief moment, it was Atem holding him up, not the other way around.
He caught himself before the both tumbled to the floor.
"Seto?" Atem's eyes were wide, glazed over with pain. He swallowed heavily, red boring into blue. Gritting his teeth, Seto straightened them both.
"I'll be fine. We're so close." He didn't know if he had the energy to summon Kisara. He would have to anyway.
(For a moment, he was elsewhere, five thousand years before, commanding an army that had to keep fighting, day and night, against a monstrosity that couldn't be stopped by mortal weapons. His Pharaoh was counting on him, one of the last of a family he didn't know he had. Exhausted as much as his men, he fought and fought and fought until the scream of despair had him running to find scattered gold and a bath of blood, which soaked through his sandals-)
Seto cut off the thought, the memory, forcing himself and Atem through the entrance to the cave system Voldemort was hiding out in. For whatever reason, known only unto him. The sunlight was almost blinding compared to the gloom of the darkened corridors.
Atem shuddered, his legs giving out. He retched, blood spattering the ground, one hand gripping at his heart. It was fine- he had lasted long enough. Gathering what energy he had left, he called to the bright light at the edge of his mind, the link formed five thousand years before between two star-crossed lovers.
Kisara's roar was the sweetest sound he had ever heard.
Harry had not been expecting the Potion's Professor of Hogwarts to pop up in the middle of Christmas breakfast. He hadn't even heard the front door open, although it would be hard to over the clamour they were all making at Mr Weasley's return. He was bruised and battered, bound to a wheelchair for residual weakness for the moment, but looking far, far better than the mangled body Harry had seen in his dreams. There was even colour in his cheeks as his children showered him with gifts and hugs, Mrs Weasley fussing over him.
Being thanked for saving his life had been surreal.
So when Snape burst into the kitchen, face paler than usual, eyes narrowed and hair a mess, so unlike the put-together image Harry had known all his years of school, he knew something was wrong. Sirius jumped to his feet from his place next to Harry, but it was Hermione who spoke up first.
"Professor?" she asked, voice trembling. "What happened?" Snape's eyes roved over them all, a flash of irritation at not finding what, or who, he was searching for.
"There has been an attack at the school," Snape said flatly. "The Prince and his cousin have been taken by Death Eaters. I must speak with Dumbledore." HIs voice with tight with restrained anger, so unlike the other times Harry had seen the man lose his temper. Snape had a habit of throwing angry fits, making him worried the man would start actually throwing things.
This type of anger, slow and simmering, was far, far more terrifying.
"What, so you can let your slimey Death Eater friends take him too?" Sirius sneered. Snape's grip on his wand tightened.
"There has been. An attack. At the school," Snape ground out again, annunciating each word carefully. For half a second, Harry thought his eyes were flecked with gold. "The students are in danger. The Tomb Keeper Clans will have all of our heads for failing in our creed to protect them. And this attack was undertaken while I was away from the school." While each word was carefully said and chosen, the man was physically shaking. Harry was surprised to vaguely note that Snape's hair, unkempt as it was, was netiher greasy or straight, but wavy. Untied and allowed to fall into his face, it created a strange balck halo around his head, making each word more intimidating than usual.
"Is everyone alright?" Mrs Weasley asked, gripping Mr Weasley's hand tightly. "The children, the staff?" Snape frowned.
"Well enough. Other than the captured students, only Mr Ishtar was injured. Luckily Mr Malfoy went for help before anyone else was attacked." Harry blinked.
"Malfoy? Malfoy went for help against the Death Eaters?" He winced as Snape's gaze snapped to fix him with an angry glare.
"You will find, Mr Potter, that Slytherin is not full of as many megalomaniacs as the school rumours and public hearsay would have you believe." Harry's eyes hadn't tricked him- in the low light of the kitchen in Grimmauld Place, Snape's eyes were flecked with bright tawny gold. Sirius snorted.
"Could have fooled me," he muttered. "You think I don't know about Slytherins? Considering where you are standing-"
"And yet, Regulas was far superior in helping the impoverished Slytherin half-blood, than his brilliant, outstanding, favoured Gryffindor brother." Harry didn't know who Regulas was, but Sirius flinched back, as if Snape had physically struck him. "And you never had to pick up the pieces after that altercation in the Great Hall either."
"Reg was a little shit who cared only for joining the ranks of You-Know-Who-" Sirius spat, face twisted in loathing. Snape cut him off with a look.
"I shall take it Dumbledore is not here. And you would not understand the depths one will go in the name of self-preservation against one's own family. You ran away instead." With that final statement, Snape swept from the room, robes flaring behind him. The silence rang loud throughout the kitchen.
"Sirius?" Harry asked quietly. "What... what was that about?" Something squirmed under his chest, that same little uncomfortable nugget that reared its ugly head when he was forced to talk about his time at the Dursleys. Even Mrs Weasley's eyes were wide, Mr Weasley giving Sirius a considering look.
"Nothing," Sirius snapped, hands curled into fists. "Snivellus is probably lying to save his own skin."
"And what reason would he have to lie about your brother?" Mr Weasley asked quietly. "None of us were Slytherins at the time, even if we had graduated by then." He didn't sound judgemental, just sad.
"Reg got what he deserved," Sirius ground out, turning away from them all. Harry was alarmed to see that he was shaking.
"Sirius," Mrs Weasley said gently. "No one will judge you for mourning your brother."
Even expecting it, Harry still flinched at the bang the kitchen door made as Sirius fled.