The Egyptian Curse and The Lost City.

Chapter 1: The Beginning of a Tale.

I'm feeling rather ragged.

I'm feeling rather rough.

I'm looking like I stayed up late,

and didn't sleep enough.

I went to sleep at bedtime

and dreamt all through the night,

but when I woke this morning

I was feeling far from right.

"Terrible Dream"-Kenn Nesbitt

His green eyes looked towards the sky, not wanting to have to do what he knew he must. His mood was somber, and it showed throughout his appearance, in his eyes, and in his face. He saw a falcon swooping down upon a mouse, observing silently. And he thought to himself, this is the way life goes, all things living must eventually die, sooner or later, it is not upon us to decide that fate.

He knew that, and now, he must go tell a father about his son. The boy he befriended during his latest year at Hogwarts. He thought back to the first time he met him, laughing at the sight of the infamous Weasley twins as they tumbled out of a fireplace. He always had an unforgiving sense of humor... He thought. His mind started to drift and he saw short clips of his friend, as he had before, just about two years before, after the death of another friend. But this one happened to affect him more. He had befriended the boy and he learned many things from his friend: loyalty, sacrifice, and to enjoy life.

He took his eyes off the desert sand, from the spot from which a moment earlier, a mouse had met its fate. He walked towards the manor which he had only seen in pictures before. The door was large and made of metal, and it reminded him of Alex's personality. He would never budge in the face of danger, instead, he would just laugh at it in the face... Harry lifted his hand to the large knocker and pulled it, then let it go. A loud sound pierced through the air, and moments later, the door was pulled open by a man in dark green robes.

"Ah, Harry, what brings you here?" the man asked Harry who didn't know how to answer. He looked up from the ground, and met the eyes of the father.

"Can I come in?" he asked, not wanting to tell the awful tale out in the heat.

"Sure," the man replied, and guided him to a small room that looked like a study and offered, "Take a seat."

"Mr. Lacakar- I don't know how to tell you this..." Harry's voice trailed off. He once again met the steady gaze of the man and searched for the words. "Your son was a great person, a great friend. Yesterday, he and I battled Lord Voldemort, and- and-" he stuttered, unable to produce the words which created a heavy burden. A tear fell down his cheek, and Alex's father knew what Harry was about to say.

"He killed Alex." The words slipped through his teeth and a chill went down his spine.

The man's face dropped like a stone, and he buried his face in his hands trying to comprehend the situation. "He's dead?" He muttered the question. He was in disbelief, and utter shock.

Why do I have to tell him... Why must he hear what no father should hear... "Yes, sir." The words were both quick and clear.

Harry didn't know where to look, he was afraid to meet the eyes of the father, and he felt there was nowhere else for his eyes to rest upon. "Was it quick? Did he suffer?" he cried out, the house was silent except for his voice.

Must I tell him? "He didn't suffer, it was quick and painless." The lie echoed through the empty hallways. Harry felt bad for lying, but what else could he do. Should I have told him his son suffered so much? That his son... that his son died in the worst way imaginable?

The father felt slightly relieved, but, he didn't know what to thing. "How-" He wanted to asked, but didn't know if he could take it, "How- how did it happen?" The words once again, echoed. Harry felt stunned by the question.

Harry wondered where to start. And he began, "Let me tell you the tale of a great boy. He was loving, he was caring, he was most of all, happy. I'll start from the beginning of his 5th year at Hogwarts, when I first met him..."

Harry wondered where to start. And he began, the words flowing out of his mouth, "Let me tell you the tale of a great boy. He was loving, he was caring, and he was most of all, happy. You want to know how he died, but, in order to understand that, you must know how he lived, and that is where I'll start, from the beginning of his fifth year..."

Harry started to sweat, he started to wonder, how to begin, how to begin? The words off the tip of his tongue, like a stream, started to flow. "Alex was by no means ordinary. He was loving, modest, caring, and most of all, happy. To understand how he died, you have to know, how it all began, and so I shall start, at the beginning of a tale, when I first came to know your son..."

Author's Note: This story has taken a different turn than what I thought I would do when I first started it. I didn't plan this chapter, and I wrote chapter 2 first. The format of this story will be in the narrative, and not in Harry's point of view. Italics throughout the story either mean it is a thought, or a quote, or an exert from a book. Thanks for reading, and continue to Chapter 2: The Boy.

Disclaimer: As you all should know, the character of Harry belongs to JK Rowling, but, the plot, Alex, and his father all belong to the voice in my head.

Voice's Note: And now it tells me to write, GO CHECK OUT CHAPTER 2, that is, after writing a review, short of long, criticizing or congratulating... I find it gratifying, so please, take the time.