June 14, 2007

"-which lead to the start of the seventh goblin rebellion, starting in what year…" the professor surveyed the classroom, eventually settling on a dirty-blonde haired student. "Miss Bishop?"

The girl squeaked momentarily, sitting up straight in her seat. "Um, 1591?"

He paused, allowing the suspense to build for a moment. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she answered, the hesitance in her voice a clear indicator she wasn't.

"Correct! Take 10 points to Ravenclaw!" A restrained ringing sounded, and he raised his voice to speak over the din of his students pushing back their seats and gathering their things. "Don't forget, your final exam will be Friday, so any last questions will need to come during my office hours that begin in one hour!"

The female students in his Sixth Year class sighed almost in unison and the last stragglers cleared out. Organizing his own lecture notes, a quiet but distinctly adult voice interrupted his internal checklist of whether he'd hit all of the exam topics.

"Professor Potter?"

Giving a distracted glance towards the door, Harry did a double-take as a mature woman, appearing to be in her mid- to late-forties, stepped into his classroom. She was dressed in a sari made of heavy silk, the thread shimmering in the torchlight, bedecked in fantastically elaborate jewels. "Can I help you?"

"I dearly hope so," she replied. "I am Arasi Aashni."

He shouldered his messenger bag, walking over and extending his hand, the outstretched limb awkwardly hanging in mid-air as the woman bowed deeply. "Er, that's not necessary."

"I would disagree. The winds tell tale of the Man-Who-Conquered, your legend spanning the globe even to the distant refuge of my people. It's an honor to meet you."

"Shall we adjourn to my office?"

She nodded, and practically floated along beside him as they made the short walk through the corridor. He gestured for her to take a seat, then he perched on the edge of his desk rather than sit down behind it. "So, Miss Aashni, what brings you to Hogwarts?"

"You do, of course. I must ask, is it true that you slew the Urnfield Wights of Tirol, and recovered the Brixon Blade?"

Harry raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. "You're remarkably well informed. Yes, that was two years ago."

She clasped her hands in her lap, crossing her legs at the ankle. "Did you know that the secrets of magical steelworking used in its construction came from my ancestors? The Tamil people's metallurgical skill is second only to that of goblins. What became of the blade?"

Offering a grunt of annoyance, Harry's eyes narrowed. "The ICW locked it away in some vault. It was a priceless magical artifact, thousands of years old. It really belonged in a place of learning, as an example of the way that ancient wizards melded sorcery and steel."

Aashni nodded approvingly. "I quite agree. Magical knowledge should be shared freely, not stockpiled and stored. You are everything that I had hoped you would be."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but you still haven't told me the purpose of your visit, and I do have teaching responsibilities to get back to…"

"I came seeking your help. The last hopes of my family, of my people, rest in your hands."

Harry didn't react to her plaintive plea. Instead, he removed his glasses and sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Let me guess - there's a Dark Lord rising in your land, and no one is willing to stand up to him."

"It's not-"

"Miss Aashni, it's been nearly ten years since I defeated the self-styled Lord Voldemort, and I've yet to make it six months in a row without someone approaching me to put down some evil-doer or another. I'll tell you what I tell them - I am a professor, not a warrior."

"You misunderstand," she quickly said, interrupting before his rehearsed speech could gather steam. "It is not your skills in battle that drew me across the world, but your proven ability to access the sites of ancient civilizations."

"Oh?" She had his full attention now. "Where did you say you are from, again?"

"Tamil Nadu. I am the descendent of an ancient dynasty, one that ran afoul of evil wizards more than two thousand years ago."

"A dynasty?"

She nodded. "In Tamil, 'arasi' would translate to 'queen'. I have come to beg your assistance in salvaging my family's legacy. Please! You are the only one who can do so!"

"I don't understand. Why me? What happened to your family?"

"It is a tale from long ago, forbidden to speak of. A legend passed down, whispered from generation to generation, of my family's hidden lineage. The true heirs of the Pandyan dynasty."

Harry's expression didn't change. "I still don't see how this involves me."

"You know of Atlantis? The great sunken city?"

He nodded. It was the 'holy grail' of ancient exploration. "Of course. But it is only a myth."

"The story I came to tell you may sound similar. What do you know of Kumari Kandam?"

"Nothing, although…" he worked through the name silently for a moment or two, "It's Sanskrit?"

"Very good, Professor," she murmured approvingly. "Kumari Kandam is a legendary continent, just south of India. The origin of the Tamil people. As a history instructor, I'm sure you can tell me of the earliest human civilizations?"

Harry let out a deep breath. He was growing irritated with this roundabout explanation. "The first 'great' civilizations emerged around 3000 BC."

"And Atlantis? Excuse me, the myth of Atlantis?"

"Plato claimed it to have been founded around 9000 BC."

She leaned back in her seat, regarding him seriously. "And what if I were to tell you that the empire of Kumari Kandam dates back nearly three thousand years prior to that?"

"I'd say that you should have brought me a drink; would have made it easier to swallow this hogwash."

Aashni tilted her head in confusion at his euphemism, then continued on in spite of his skepticism. "The great empire of Kumari Kandam spanned an entire continent. Seven regions, each with seven territories. I trust you are familiar with the arithmantic significance of such an arrangement?"

"I am," he drawled, intrigued despite himself.

"It was a powerful empire, but as the millenia passed, became insular and antiquated, unable to guard against the threats from the north. Eight powerful - and very evil - wizards envied the wealth and influence of my people. Using dark magic, they initiated a catastrophe, one which sank the entire continent to the ocean floor."

Hopping off his desk, Harry turned and sank into his seat, propping his feet up. "That's a nice story. I'll have to remember it next time I'm around a campfire."

She didn't respond to his sarcasm. "I would not expect an accomplished scholar to take my word at face value. Here," she said, reaching into her sari and withdrawing a package, placing it on his desk and sliding it towards him, "see for yourself."

Wordlessly, he dropped his feet back to the floor, smoothly drawing his wand and unshrinking the package, upending it on his desk. A glossy stone pendant in a perfectly symmetrical triangular shape fell out, along with several sheets of muggle paper and a scroll of parchment. Harry cast diagnostic charms on each item before reaching first for the muggle report, quickly scanning its contents.

"Carbon dating… unknown errors in testing methods, results consistently returning age greater than 10,000 years…" he set the paper down, directing a suddenly intent look at the woman across from him. "They assumed a mistake, because-"

"-Because it is impossible that an artifact of that quality could be so old."

Picking up the scroll, Harry saw it was a written report from a master of enchanting, an expert he was familiar with. The magical signatures contained in this artifact were deeply woven in its construction, similar to but not consistent with goblin manufacturing. Its purpose remained unknown, according to the report.

Finally, he crouched, eye level with the pendant. He waved his wand, whispering detection spells in a variety of languages. It glowed briefly, but nothing more.

"Where did you get this?"

"I told you, my family are the descendents of the lost continent's rulers. It has been passed down for thousands of years, protected at great cost to preserve our dynasty. Recently, certain texts have been unearthed, that point to a possible entrance to my people's buried kingdom-"

"If what you say is true," Harry interrupted, "then why have the muggles not detected this landmass?"

"The ill magic that the Great Eight used to sink Kumari Kandam cloaked it from view of both magical and muggle senses."

"Impossible!" Harry scoffed. "The amount of magical energy necessary to mask a landmass of that size is beyond comprehension."

"'There are secrets that remain unearthed, as buried figuratively by doubt and disbelief, as they are by stone and dirt.' Didn't you say that in your last research publication, on early Longshan runic carvings?"

He grinned, dragging his eyes off of the pendant, a sparkle of curiosity shining clearly in their emerald depths. "You really did do your homework on me."

"I can, of course, compensate you in whatever way you desire. Once we unlock Kumari Kandam, my family will possess riches, artifacts, and knowledge beyond your wildest dreams. But I need help. I need you, Harry Potter."

"Say I agree to this; where do we even start?"

Aashni stood, gathering the forms, parchment, and pendant. As she concealed them in her robes, she pulled out another scroll, setting it carefully in the center of his desk. "This is an international portkey. A quite illegal one, at that. If you decide to once more wear the mantle of a savior, tap it with your wand in an unwarded location and speak the activation phrase - 'long live the queen'. It is effective for the next ten days; after that, I will assume you have decided against assisting my people."

"I have kind of a bad history with taking portkeys to unknown locations."

"Then allow me to provide you some assurance. It will bring you to my family's estate in Tamil Nadu, a region in southern India. From there, we will begin our journey to unlock the lost continent and restore my family to our true place on the Pandyan throne."

With one more deep bow, Arasi Aashni departed, leaving him deep in thought, staring silently at the scroll perched on the center of his desk.

He walked the blushing, stuttering Seventh Year to the open door of his office, assuring her that she was adequately prepared for her coming examination. It had been equal parts embarrassing and flattering, when he'd first taken on the position of teaching History of Magic at Hogwarts, just how many students decided to pursue NEWTs in the subject. When Binns had been here, the number of students continuing past OWLs rarely exceeded three or four per year; Harry, however, had full classes consistently through his tenure.

It had been a great surprise, even to Headmistress McGonagall, when Harry had come seeking this position. He'd barely lasted three weeks as an auror; with the Death Eaters dead, in prison, or scattered to the Continent in disgrace, the DMLE had largely used him as a walking and talking recruitment poster.

The expectations of everyone around him following his victory over Voldemort had been suffocating. Locking himself in Grimmauld Place had been only partially successful, but unfortunately Ron and Hermione had escorted an endless parade of well-wishers and favor-seekers desperate for 'just a few minutes' of his time for this or that issue.

'You could do so much!' Hermione had said. 'Why not use your influence to change things for the better?'

He suspected that Ron understood his reticence; after all, Harry had basically been little more than a pawn for most of his life. He wasn't eager to repeat that, no matter how important his would-be puppet masters thought their causes were. Instead, he'd sent Bill Weasley a letter, asking to tag along the next time the Curse-Breaker's work took him out of Britain.

Bill had been happy to have the Man-Who-Conquered along, and while Harry found the work of dismantling wards and traps interesting, he was intensely fascinated by the mundane discoveries they found in the Scandinavian tomb. For someone who'd had his personal history stolen from him shortly after birth, discovering unknown pieces of how magic was employed in the ancient world was deeply satisfying to Harry Potter.

Greasing a few palms with gold from his considerable inheritance, Harry managed to secure spots on a number of expeditions over the next three years. With his magical power and reputation, he was never refused. At first, his name was added to the list of authors on the published work to draw attention to the findings that his various mentors and trainers discovered; gradually, though, Harry began to mount his own expeditions and earn merits all of his own.

Thus, having quickly risen to the most visible - if not the most prominent - archaeologist in the magical world, Harry had been a shoo-in for the teaching position at Hogwarts. He liked teaching, especially a subject that almost no one had taken seriously when he was a student. Plus, it gave him something to do while his scouts sought out new sites for his annual summer expeditions.

"Plumpton Pass," he said, pausing as the gargoyle slid to the side. Taking the stairs at a leisurely pace, he raised his hand to knock just as the door opened on its own.

"Professor Potter," McGonagall greeted. "I trust that your afternoon meeting went well?"

He flopped down into the seat across from her. "I don't know why I thought you wouldn't already know about that. Yes, it was quite informative."

"You won't leave until after final exams, will you?"

"Of course not. I'll just pull an all-nighter and get my grades in by Saturday morning."

The Headmistress frowned. "It is customary for the faculty to attend graduation."

"I'll pay Ron and George to set up a fireworks show. Nobody'll notice I'm not there."

"Very well. Where will your travels take you this summer?"

Harry stood, having completed his duty of informing his boss of his absence. "Somewhere far away. If everything works out, you'll hear all about it before the start of next term."

"I don't doubt it. Do be careful?"

"Always, Minnie," he said with a wink, spinning on his heel and heading back down the stairs.

There was so much to do, he thought, mentally compiling a list of things he needed to pack. He wondered what sort of team Aashni had put together; while he'd prefer using people that he'd worked with previously, she seemed the skittish sort, unlikely to take kindly to him bringing others along. 'Not to mention the questionable nature of a job starting with an illegal portkey' he mused with a wry grin, a smile that only widened when he saw who was lounging in his quarters.

"Parvati Patil, now this is a pleasant surprise."

"Wrong Patil," came the cool response. The serious look on her face really should have been a dead giveaway, he realized.

"Hello Padma, it's been ages."

"Yes, my work's taken me out of the country for the last few years. How have you been, Potter?"

"Great, actually. Better than ever!"

A hint of a smile cracked her impassive expression. "Considering your past experiences, that's not saying all that much."

"I suppose not," he agreed, deliberately running his eyes over her robed figure. "Is there a reason, beyond the obvious of course, that you're in my personal quarters?"

If he'd needed more proof that this was the Ravenclaw, not the Gryffindor, the complete lack of reaction to his flirtation would have provided it. "Don't flatter yourself, I'm not one of your lovesick students drawing hearts on their essays."

He took her rejection in stride. "That's too bad. Well, off you go."

"Excuse me?"

"I've got a lot of things to do, don't really have time to catch up."

"But you do have time to come on to me?" she sputtered indignantly. "You're unbelievable."

He pulled off his robes, throwing them into a nearby basket that the house elves collected nightly, then began to unbutton his shirt. "I wasn't kidding about being busy."

"A woman came to see you today."

"Lots of women come to see me, for obvious reasons," he shot back, his shirt landing on top of his robes.

"Can you- ugh! I liked you better when you weren't such an arrogant arse."

"You mean when I had a Dark Lord, the Prophet, and the Ministry all out for my blood? Forgive me for not being overwhelmed, terrified, and in way over my head any longer."

"This woman, what did she tell you?"

"It was just a job offer, Padma, what's the deal?" He dug out a t-shirt, pausing for a moment to glance between the garment and his guest. "Last chance to soak it all in."

"I prefer men with more muscles and fewer scars. Put it on."

"Ouch!" he pretended to be wounded, but couldn't muster much feeling behind it.

"What were the details of this job offer?"

"None of your business."

She scowled, taking a step closer. "This is serious, Potter. I need to know what she told you."

'Wherever she was, it treated her well' Harry thought, taking advantage of her increased proximity to more closely examine the way she filled out her robes. "How much do you need to know?"

"Is that what it's going to take? Because I can lay back and think of England for the fifteen seconds you'd need, if so."

He couldn't help but laugh. Padma hadn't been so… fiery during their years at Hogwarts. "Seriously, why is this so important to you?"

"She's a wanted criminal, part of a group of Tamil extremists that have been delving into dangerous magicks."

"Are you an auror?"

She met his eyes unflinchingly. "I can't tell you that."

"So the DoM, then. What a waste, to hide a face like yours behind those cowls!"

"Stop with the jokes, Harry!"

"All she did was offer me a job. I have exams to give, so obviously I'm not available at the moment. She made her pitch, then she left."

"Is she staying in Britain?"

"I don't think so."

Padma sighed in seeming relief. "Okay. I'm glad to hear that."

"What's this about, really?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Where have you really been for the last few years?"

Tucking a strand of ebony hair behind her ear, she stood on her tiptoes to examine his trademark scar. "It's almost completely gone."

She smelled nice. Really nice. "Can we rewind this conversation and have you break out the restraints and whips? I might not have told you everything."

Patting his cheek, Padma smiled and headed for the door. "It was nice catching up with you."

"Thanks for dropping by."

The door half-open, she paused. "Oh, and is there a reason you thought that Parvati would be waiting in your quarters?"

"Wishful thinking?"

"It had better be just that." The door slammed shut behind her.

Harry chuckled, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing the portkey that Aashni had left him. Padma's warnings weren't all that surprising, given the way that his earlier guest had warned him about the cover-up surrounding the lost continent. It wouldn't be the first time he'd had to step on some toes to get the job done.

Just three more days. Three more days, and he'd be off to solve a mystery thousands of years in the making.

A/N: I wanted to publish the prologue for this fic. Truthfully, there's a lot of research I still have to do before I really dive in with both feet, but I'm really, really excited for it.

Lots of ancient mythology and legends in this one. Hopefully, it will be a fun romp through some pretty cool stuff from a part of the world that doesn't get enough attention.

This fic is my attempt at an 'IndianaJones!'Harry. We'll see how well it goes.

Let me know if you enjoyed! As always,

Stay safe, healthy, and happy! ~Frickles