A/N: I'm hoping that after this chapter, things might start to actually come together… I might add that somewhere in here, you will probably start to see the religious intonations coming through. I myself am an agnostic, but I am totally fascinated by Biblical history, especially the story of the city of Babylon.
When there was no heaven,
no earth, no height, no depth, no name…
Harry shifted
uncomfortably. Zeph, he had heard the name. It sounded so foreign, so ancient.
It was probably from when Aunt Petunia had tried to cure him by literally
shoving the New Testament down his throat.
"Who is Zeph?" he
whispered. The soiled girl sat down next to Harry and gave a toothy smile.
"Zeph is our… hero. He
comes to bring light."
"Right," chuckled Harry.
He definitely had no clue what this "Zeph" was, and why he was needed.
"So, Zeph, is he like
your savior?" he suggested innocently. The girl nodded her shaggy mane
vigorously.
"And, he wants me
because…" he continued.
"You are the one who
lived, says Zeph. I must bring you back so you can save Babel."
"Babel, as in Babylon? I
don't think that is such a good idea… I mean…" The girl's face fell
dramatically; she nodded her gaze to the floor. Harry turned his head up to the
cloudless night sky.
"I must come for you
again, tomorrow," she murmured. Harry looked back, but his friend had vanished.
He climbed back into the dorm and promptly fell asleep.
The next morning passed
uneventfully, only that Harry broke a few viles in Potions. Outside the dreaded
class, Draco Malfoy approached him. Harry put out his arm to hold back Ron and
Hermione, lest his enemy say anything to rile them.
"What do you want,
Malfoy?" Draco sneered menacingly at them, then let his expression melt into a
violent grin.
"New robes, Weasley? What
did your mom die?" Ron shot an angry yet confused look back at the pale boy.
"What would my mother
dying have to do with new robes?" he demanded.
"Well, then your food
bill would be so drastically diminished…" Draco laughed, as the rest of his
Slytherin supporters cheered him on. Ron glowed a bright red, but Harry pushed
him back. He was began to respond bitterly, but felt the warm hand again.
"This a friend of yours,
Potter?" Draco leered, jabbing a thumb out at the girl. She turned from him to
Harry, and smiled.
"Harry Potter, we must go
now. Zeph awaits you." Ron pressed forward Harry's arm.
"Wait a minute, who are
you?" The girl's eyes questioned Harry of his scarlet companion.
"What?" he demanded
angrily.
"I will take them as
well, Harry Potter. Zeph said reinforcements are welcome in this battle, though
I know not their skills." Harry turned back to Hermione and Ron, who looked
most perplexed. Before he could speak another word, the girl had set a
shimmering light around them. Harry felt nothing, instead only saw blackness
closing in on them.
Soft sand sifted through
his fingers. The hot sun bore incessantly upon his body. Harry then dared to
open his eyes. A cloudless sky met his gaze. Attempting to rise, he felt a cool
hand push him down again.
"Rest." Once again, his
world slipped away.
When he regained his
senses for a second time, Harry could remember little. He was alone inside a
red tent, lying on a rug of wool. He could still feel the lumps of sand
prodding at his back, pushing at his tense muscles. He balanced unsteadily on
his weak arms and viewed his surroundings. He was very much solitary inside
this red cave, although he could hear a multitude of loud noises emanating from
the outside.
Unsure of what was to
happen next, Harry rose to his feet. He pulled back the tent-flap slightly and
was met by a humid blast of air and dust. Clearing his eyes, he surveyed the
area. The sun was brighter than he had ever seen it in England, still stranger
in October. Shielding his face, he continued to watch for a familiar personage.
He could see nothing but
foreigners. Stranger yet was their clothing and packages. Harry stood agape as
he viewed camels galloping along, lead by men in white trousers and cloaked
tops. He was so stunned that he barely heard the voice calling him back.
"Harry." The pale boy
turned and was greeted by another shock: A girl about his age, perhaps a year
older, wearing what seemed to be black drapery, stood at the tent opening. He
smiled awkwardly, mesmerized by her tan skin, but instead of returning the
gesture, she quickly covered her face with a stripe of the dark cloth.
She bowed deeply to
Harry, almost as if in prayer, letting pieces of her sun-browned hair fall
forward. Harry gathered his senses, and finally spoke.
"Uh, could you maybe tell
me what I am doing here? And where I am?" he asked with the politest smile he
could muster.
The girl dropped her
cloth. Her opaque eyes widened immensely and she lost her wits. She began to
stammer in a language Harry could not understand, and her brown cheeks blushed
vivid red. Realizing she did not speak English, Harry laughed quietly. He
attempted to pantomime his predicament, but found the task proved impossible.
The girl caught on to his act, and stopped his hands. Pointing to her chest,
she proudly proclaimed:
"Inanna," then, placing
her delicate forefinger on his chest, "Harry Potter." The mentioned boy grinned
widely and nodded contentedly.
Inanna's face brightened
suddenly, and with a quick bow, she bolted from the tent. Seconds later, she
had returned with the young girl that had first accosted Harry. They bowed
simultaneously, then the youngest spoke.
"I am Nidaba. Inanna, my
eldest sister, says you wish to know something. She, unlike myself, does not
speak your tongue." A bit taken aback, a flurry of questions buzzed through his
mind. He managed to sputter out one.
"Where am I?"
The two sisters exchanged
unreadable glances, while Nidaba muttered something incomprehensible to Harry.
Turning back to him, she fell expressionless.
"Babel, look outside if
you will." She took the corner of the crimson tent-flap and led him from the
canopy. Again the blinding light dazzled the wizard. He felt Inanna grasp his
arm and pull him into the shade of a building.
Resting his bare back
against the house, Harry felt the foreign texture of adobe meet his body. This
strange subsistence was finally beginning to sink in. Inanna once again reached
for his blistered hand, and drew him into a gritty crowd.
As though a blind man,
Harry stumbled clumsily, sending a numbing ice through his sore mind. For what
seemed like an eternity, he was tugged and hauled through a mass of human
bodies reeking with the putrid stench of sweat and decomposing life. Gusts of
wind filled his watery eyes with sand, and scratched at his tender face.
At long last, his guide
brought him to a cool fountain, gently pouring the water on his welcoming body.
He brushed the grainy hair from his forehead and looked to Nadiba quizzically.
She said nothing, instead motioned to a
lanky boy who sat under a tent teeming with bodies.
The boy, acknowledging
her gesture, stood and sauntered over, much like a king surveying his
troops. He met Harry with a prolonged
curtsey.
"Zeph," whispered Inanna.
She and her sister dropped to their knees, not daring to meet his power-hungry
eyes. Harry stood much the confused boy, wondering if he too should bow. Zeph
walked a circle round Harry, causing him to feel like a prized trophy.
"You are Harry, yes?" Not
waiting for a response, he continued, "I am Zephanina, our Messiah." He widened
his arms, as if to included the whole of his domain.
"I am the Messiah, and a
prophetic symbol. In Babel, we know of magic, and I can see it in you. I have
seen that in the future, you will fight a war to determine the ruler of the
magickal world, one that if not altered now, will end in eternal damnation."
Harry cringed to think of a Voldemort victory.
"I can help you but,
Harry Potter, you must help us first."
"How can I do anything?"
the wizard managed to breathe out.
"Just as I envisioned a
Dark Lord as the victor to you, there is said in the book that follows Shinar
[1] that an idol who shall smite this city."
Harry nodded to show his
comprehension, and awaited his assignment. Although he did not fully believe
the tale of this Zeph, he would commit to anything if Voldemort would simply
disappear.
Instead of continuing
however, Zeph turned away and beckoned a scantily-armored guard. He barked an
order, though much to Harry's dismay, not in English. Returning to Harry with a
smirk, the prophet laughed.
"We must teach you the
Akkadian tongue."
[1]: The Babylonian Old
Testament…so the New Testament would follow, dahlings….