Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore sat at a desk in his large office thinking of the coming school year. "This was supposed to be the year," he thought with a sigh. Harry Potter was supposed to come from the hidden place he had kept him safe in. He was supposed to be away from the attentions and Messianic thoughts of the Wizarding World. But no – there would be no Harry Potter.

He lifted up a small glass of fire whiskey, thought of he who had took the last killing curse for this poor world and dropped the drink back letting it go down his throat with a burn. The clocks in his office began to strike the turning of yet another new day. Albus took his empty glass and reached for his bottle to refill when his office suddenly came to life.

He peeked up first at the singular instrument that marked the death of He-who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but no that was still silent.

Suddenly a silver box began to flash.

"Breath –" Albus whispered.

Then, a clock that had been dead for ten years started to tick.

"His heart –" he said again.

Then, a compass started to twirl and stop. He looked carefully to see where it pointed.

He expected it to point south – southwest, but no, it pointed southeast and its urgency seemed to indicate that it was far away. Albus Dumbledore turned to his desk, pulled out parchment and quill and wrote a hasty note.

"Minerva is going to kill me –" he said as he finished the note to her. Then, he put it into an envelope and tied it to the red Phoenix perched beside his desk.

"Fawkes," he said sagely, "Go give this to Minerva McGonagall, immediately."

The great firebird exploded and disappeared.

Albus stood up summoned his wand, a second wand, his bag, always ready at a moment's notice for a long journey, and everything else he might need. Then, he stood up and twinkled his nose. With a pop, the Headmaster had popped out of the castle.

Albus looked down at his only instrument – it looked like a Muggle compass. It still pointed south. He looked up again, into the glaring light of the sun, his long-brimmed wizard's hat shielding him from the sun as he heeled his camel and bounced along. The Egyptian sun beat down on him. He grumbled to himself – he had never enjoyed the beating sun of Egypt. Deeper into the Sahara the camel and its sister who would hold another on the way back carried him as he looked into the horizon. There was no life or anything. How could he be sure that this was not some fool's errand?

It didn't take long – even for the Great Albus Dumbledore to get tired of the endless grains of sand. He was deep in the southwestern corner of Egypt, getting closer to Libya. Deep down he knew he would not cross that border. And then he looked deep into a depression and he felt the presence of powerful magic – magic he had never seen before.

Then he saw what first seemed like a tomb. Then, he saw what appeared to be the Eye of Wadjet and he followed that symbol. He made his way toward the entrance of the tomb, looking carefully for signs of wards, but they seemed strangely absent as if the reenergizing of his instruments had also brought down what protected this place.

He came closer to a dark black square cut on the side of an ancient small pyramid. He cursed lightly, "Why didn't I bring a Muggle crowbar?" But when he touched the door, it opened outward – again helping him to his destination.

Holding the Elder Wand before him, he cast "Lumos," and then entered the tomb. The entrance seemed about the same size as a closet for Knick knacks back home. But the material of this room was sandstone. He still felt no wards to speak of inside. He walked down the staircase. At the bottom, there was a mid-sized chamber with a door on the far side. The walls were smoothed over by magic and hieroglyphics (something Dumbledore had never had a strong grasp on) were covering every visible inch of the tomb.

Then, he looked up and saw a solar disk engraved on a portion of the wall. Inside of that was what he knew from his Egyptian reading as the Eye of Horus. He put his hand on the door and again it slid right open. He walked through and was able to silence his illumined wand. The room lit up in brilliant golden light.

Then, he looked to the middle of the room and came face-to-face with a young girl. She could not be any older than a young girl that would be starting Hogwarts this September. She was dressed in a simple white linen gown. On her feet were golden sandals. He peeked up and saw dark raven hair in the clean line cut of Ancient Egypt running around her forehead. The hair fell down her shoulders and laid gently across her chest. Her hair was adorned with with golden strands woven throughout. But what startled him the most were the eyes. They were green – bright green.

"Like Lily Potter's –" he said out loud, but shook his head. Lily had red hair, and this girl's hair was as black as James' hair.

"Like Harry Potter –" he spoke again. But this was a girl. She looked nothing like a preteen boy.

The girl studied him calmly and patiently as he stood before her. He could see her regal bearing – she held herself like a queen even for one so young.

He wasn't sure if it would work, but finally he spoke. "I have reason to believe that Harry Potter is here."

The girl looked up and met his eyes, and she turned her lip in a clear smile.

"Harry Potter died the day a dark shadow entered into the house of James and Lily Potter," she spoke at last.

Albus tried to place the accent, shocked at the clear English, but shocked at the lack of the English sounding dialect.

"I am," she continued, "Anck-su-Namun a disciple of the goddess Sekhmet, but not yet initiated. When your Harry Potter was struck by the Atma –" she paused at that word with distaste, "Harry Potter felt such intense pain and his body was struck with a mixture of the Shadow's Dark Magic, Lilly Potter's blood magic and a miscalculation in her Arithmancy. Your Harry Potter died and was changed into a girl. She was taken by the Goddess, Sekhmet to 1300 B.C. in your reckoning."

Professor Dumbledore was speechless. He had come to tell Harry Potter about his parent's love and show him the wonders of magic. He had thought to come to a clay pot that he could mold. But he was standing before a lovely young lady who knew of her parents and their imperfections and who seemed to have some grasp on said magic. He was not looking at a clay pot. "What to do?" He muttered to himself.

She looked at him lazily waiting for him to finish speaking to himself. After a minute, he had it figured out.

"Your name is Harriet Potter –" he started.

As he said it, he waved his wand and wordlessly cast a "Confundus," along with Loyalty charms, and a few other memory modifications.

Her green eyes narrowed at him and her body flinched slightly. "Excuse me?" She asked in a light yet dangerous tone.

"The Wizarding World of Great Britain –" He began starting to catch the steam of those inspired moments when he could lead even his enemies to see the Light – "will not know what to do with a Harry Potter who became Anck-su-Namun." He struggled royally with her true name. "But they will understand Harriet Potter. It sounds just like his name."

Her eyes opened up. "You are a ridiculous fool," she said. Then she walked away from him. "You seek to play games with me. You do not come to tell me what your need is. You withhold your thoughts and seek to make decisions as if you were my grandfather."

His eyes twinkled at her. "My dear," he said, "I am the Headmaster at a school in England – a school where your father James Potter and mother, Lily Evans met." With that ever sparkling twinkle he continued. "If they were alive, they would already have you enrolled at this school. I was their Headmaster and I will be your Headmaster too."

The room slowly began to darken and get colder. "You are a teacher at a school. But we are not in school."

His eyes darkened, clearly not used to being seen through so easily. With his wand or words he tried to cast his spells of loyalty and confusion and mind control again. They always worked.

Then, he reasoned with a twinkle in his eyes. "You are coming into a culture that you know nothing about. Your previous life had a history you seem to not understand. Money and position are connected to the name Potter, and the name Harriet allows you a connection to that past."

"I do not like this," she replied. "You not only wish to take away the name given to me by the High Priestess of Sekhmet – as the gods told her to call me. You wish to give me a name that is so –"

Her face screwed up in utter disgust, but that turn of the lips still did not draw away her beauty.

"That name is so horrible –" she settled.

"We can discuss this on the way," the Headmaster said the twinkle coming back to his eyes, but his mind trying desperately to find a way to control the girl.

"I have spent the last two weeks since my resurrection scrying," she replied. "I am in agreement with you that we do need to hurry."

With a sigh Albus reached over. "Well, come with me, then" he began. "We have a long journey back to England."

She walked behind him but she did not take his hand.

"Lead the way, Headmaster –"

His eyes with a twinkle started to walk as she stepped quietly behind him. He saw the lights go out as they stepped through the cavern. He felt the sudden oppressive reassertion of dangerous and powerful wards in that room. They walked through the hallway and up the steps. As soon as the young girl passed through the door, it slammed shut. She turned and waved her hands and he again Albus felt power twist around the room. She walked quietly behind him the sun and sand starting to stifle and twist and blow at him. He looked back and it seemed to fall around her with her beauty untouched.

When they made it out of the depression, she turned one last time and spoke words with command and suddenly the depression shimmered, and the pyramid below disappeared. She turned to the Headmaster who looked at her in total shock. She looked past him and with a disgusted look she spoke:

"That is our transportation?"