Welcome back! This chapter completes the setting of the Alternate Universe.

P.S. Madam Rowling owns everything Harry Potter. I'm just a story teller living in her world.

The Village

The following morning started similarly to the last with denizens flowing out of their homes like the river upon which the town is built. The mothers of last night's group of boys were strolling over to the Sphinkus residence holding baskets of their own atop their heads for ease of transport, and to shield their faces from the rising sun. In the Sphinkus home, mother and son are also awake and enjoying a pleasant morning dialogue.

"Mama? Could I go greet the other Mamas today?" asks Maxximus as he secures a rectangular piece of linen cloth, his shenti, around his waist with a thick and well woven flax rope.

The Priestess, in the midst of weaving the gold strands through her singular braid responds with a warm smile: "Sure Habibi, they should be arriving shortly. Remember to thank them each personally. Although they come every morning, we must always be grateful when we are shown kindness."

"Of course Mama, I think that's the first lesson you've ever taught me." the boy then subtly adopts a mischievous glint in his eyes and stands up straight with a mock stern finger raised and says: "One must not forget to be grateful for all that we receive, gratefulness is the first step to mindfulness and mindfulness is key to reaching harmony within your soul!"

His mother, unable to chide Maxximus for his rather accurate imitation, lets loose an enchanting bout of laughter as she finishes her braid and smoothes her marble white tunic. "You jest but now I am certain you won't forget. That means your Mama is quite the teacher if I say so myself. Now go, the women are here, it does not do well to keep women waiting Maxximus."

Coming down from his own rise of giggles, the fourteen year old boy heads to the entrance archway of the only home he's ever known. There, he effectively sees the mothers of his friends lined up haphazardly, who return radiant smiles once their eyes land on the boy.

The women all greet the son of the Priestess with friendly yet most definitely reused jibes.

"Maxximus! Your mother must be performing some new magicks on you, you get taller every time I see you!"

"Habibi, you need to cut your hair! It would be a shame to hide those eyes under that shaggy black curtain."

After the initial hellos, each woman steps forward and first asks Maxx to forward gratitude to the Priestess Sphinkus for the contents of the jugs they received before presenting their own gifts. The mother of the two brothers, a plump woman with a network of intricate braids tied together forming a peakless cone above her head steps forward:

"I think last night's flour was the finest I've ever received, give a warm thank you to the Priestess for me. I'm certain tomorrow's bread will be unlike any I've made before. Here, for today, have two loaves, a growing boy like you and your talented Mama have most definitely earned it."

"Thank you Auntie, I am so grateful for the bread you and Tuya bake every day. You and your daughter must be blessed because I don't think better bread is baked anywhere else in Egypt."

Interactions like these are common, in a small village such as this, everyone knows everyone. Also, while the daughters typically stayed home with their mothers to learn their trade, the sons would be allowed to play until they were old enough to join their fathers in the gathering of construction materials such as large rocks or freshly felled trees. Specifically, the Kheferu family were recognized for producing strong sons who specialized in the construction and hauling of mud bricks. In fact, a new home could only be considered built once the Kheferu men announced the last brick to be set and then, the Priestess Sphinkus would be called upon to magically seal the construction and pronounce it complete. Such an occasion was so momentous, it garnered the attention of the whole town and allowed the celebration of the New Hearth Festival.

The day of the festival would start with the Kheferu patron blowing a hollowed heirloom Erumpent horn to signal completed construction. Then all the villagers would congregate at the job site, exchanging goods, singing songs and playing games. Meanwhile, the matron and daughters of the Nekhet family would spend the day engraving and painting the walls of the new build. These days were typically very hot, as such, the eldest boys who were not yet men were tasked with bottling and delivering water to everyone. It wasn't uncommon for one overly excitable lad to forget to drink water himself and pass out, fortunately the local phoenixes were attuned to the festivities and contributed with their melodic tune. Such sounds guaranteed not a soul in the village could miss out on the simple joys of the day. They also had the added effect of quickly waking these heat-stroked boys before they would be quickly and playfully picked up by the strong birds and dropped in the river. Almost as if saying 'Here, now you can't run out of water, silly small human.' Such an event was sure to cause raucous belly aching laughter from any with the good fortune of witnessing the spectacle.

By day's end, the Priestess Sphinkus would make her way down to the celebration, greeted with the anticipatory cheers of all, her signature flames in her hands lighting her silhouette in the shade of sunset. Once at the entrance of the soon to be new home, she joins her hands and the flames above her head, and amplifies them, illuminating a large radius around her and begins to chant:

"As the sun sets on our verdant Oasis, and the good craftsmen receive their due praises.

As the last rays hide behind the horizon, and the good painters showcase their vision.

As the stars appear above in all their splendor, and the townsfolk rejoice with renewed vigor.

May we be blessed with a New Hearth, may it be filled with a new family's mirth.

Let my magic seal it so, as long as our good river may flow.

Let it stand forevermore, as we grow this village we adore."

At this point, all the townsfolk can feel the mystical energy thrumming from the Priestess. As her hands begin to glow with a soft white, the mortar between the bricks slowly disappears giving way to a smooth wall, as if made from one stone. The hue of the woman's hands would then take on a bright purple as the engravings set in their final shapes and the painted figures appear to wake from stasis and engage in whatever scene the painter orchestrated. This was the climax of the Festival for the villagers since it was only on these days that the reserved Priestess Sphinkus performed such a grand showing of magic.

All this, young Maxximus remembers fondly as this morning's procession ends with the women walking home, their baskets of goods on their heads as he gazes towards the current project taking place at the end of the river, where the bed is too shallow for it to continue. He quickly makes a mental note to ask his mother if after the next festival the village will need to excavate a trench so that the river may grow. Little does he know, his life is about to change and he won't be able to attend the next festival. Elsewhere, a marginally less neglected boy receives a second letter addressed to him at the Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive.