When Sphinxes Speak

Abby Ebon

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Disclaimer; I do not own the rights to "Harry Potter" or "The Mummy".

Summary; With L'autre Monde. Slash, Harry/Imhotep. Egypt is famous for its magic – and its curses – so, there a very good reason why, when in Egypt, you don't go looking for the temple between the Sphinx's paws. Harry Potter is about to learn the hard way.

Note; if you've ever found yourself wondering who would be cruel enough to drop Harry into the rat nest of a Goa'uld infested Ancient Egypt while the soon to be cursed with the Hom-dai Imhotep is running amuck with Anck-su-namun behind Seti's back while Nefertiri watches on? I would proudly step forward, smirking. Yes, cower in fear! ...or sing praises, my muses aren't picky.

Seriously now, this isn't just a story – it's an idea, an experiment, if you will. I've always wanted to combine written word with art, and thanks in large part to L'autre Monde, this may well become a reality. All the details haven't yet been hashed out – like where the images will be posted at, but you have my word that when they do appear you will be notified, and I will be posting the link on my profile. L'autre Monde is a very talented artist – I've had the pleasure of seeing some of her rough work and find it lovely indeed, not to mention that I think our ideas of what this will become are enthusiastic, but realistic. I promise, if you only see this story from one side - you'll be missing out on something great. This is as much my story as it is hers, so keep this in mind, even as you read what are my words.

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Step With Care Over Hourglass Sand

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In the dim light of the half-full moon, they glittered like the summer grass of his Aunt's garden, he remembered it well for he had, every summer, until he was of age in the eyes of the magical world, worked slavishly to keep that yard healthy. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed the "scar" shifting beneath his skin of his wrist, flickering, as if it had a life of its own.

Ron had compared this scar to a vine of thorns. Hermione had disagreed in favor of liking them to barbed wire. Personally, Harry thought they were a both right. The scar that circled his wrist had thorns like barbed wire, which – though the surface of his skin remained smooth, sprouted dark bruises beneath, but "blossomed" along the scar was an oddity. Engraved into his skin were clear cone-like jewels. Any other time they were black, but now – for some reason, they were the eerie green of his eyes.

Harry gave a precious moment to wish he had Hermione by his side to brain storm what this might mean, however insignificant it might prove to be. She might have claimed it to be a manifestation of his guilt at doing what he had done without informing anyone of his intentions. It was true enough that breaking into a "temple" in Egypt might send shivers up the spines of even the most bold – but what Harry was attempting to do was much worse in the eyes of many.

Harry had had a dream, a dream so real that if he closed his eyes and took a breath, he could see it all again as clearly as if he was dreaming once more. It was focused on the great sphinx, and ever since that dream, Harry had found himself unable to pull his attention away from going to Egypt and seeing for himself what held his attention.

In ancient hieroglyphs, rather whimsically mentioned, was a temple nestled either "beside" or "within" the Great Sphinx. Beyond that whisper the papyrus was unreadable, most thought the temple had been destroyed when the Sphinx had been buried up to its chest, over a thousand years after its making.

Harry didn't think so – they, the Egyptians - had built the pyramids, they had awed the Greeks, and even in the last stages of their kingdom, the Romans had good reason to fear them while a pharaoh queen sat upon the throne. Surely they would have foreseen that sand storms might threaten their "Harmakhis", so rather then think the temple to be once placed between the forelegs of the Sphinx, Harry had wondered if the temple could be within the Sphinx.

Having come all this way, Harry now stood before the empty eyed Sphinx with its broken face, and felt a rush of disappointment. He had thought perhaps being here instead of studying at a distance might shift his perspective, might let him see something tumble into place that would unlock the mysteries of the Sphinx and the riddle of its hidden temple. Might change something he hadn't seen by studying pages of notes. It hadn't.

Instead his feet hurt, his wrist was glowing a freaky green color, and a desert night was still hotter then any kind of sun he'd ever felt. Shakily, he gave a sigh of defeat, and turned, preparing to go back to where he started without the hope he had had that this might be an answer.

"I must say, I expected more from my descendent." A rumbling voice froze Harry into place, the very air seemed to still – the night listening in to what had to be the savior of the magical world's witches and wizards going insane. Harry slowly opened and closed his eyes, the still desert night before him seemed to flicker replaced for a moment by a bustling crowd and words murmured too soft to hear.

'I am asleep – dreaming. Don't turn around – keep going…' His heart lurching within his chest, Harry sucked in a soft breath, intending to follow his own advice and take a step forward, just one step – and he was sure he'd wake up. Walking all this way – in the heat – must have exhausted him. He might have passed out. Must have…he took that step. He didn't wake up. The desert was still bidding its time, awaiting his reaction with a weary sort of amusement.

"Hear me, for what I will say this night will change everything you think you know. Your mother was no mere mortal; neither are you." The words, softer now then a gentle breeze, might have fooled Harry as his own imagination if Harry hadn't known better. It was the smell that came with the words, the breath breathed along his scalp, ruffling his hair. The smell was alike a flower, spicy – but pleasant. When he smelt it, he thought of the warmth of the sun – and, strangely, his mother.

"Face me." It was a command, and Harry tightened his fingers into a fist as he slowly turned his face toward the sphinx, half seeing it out of the corner of his eye he saw it decayed and tarnished one moment – and in the next smooth and painted, as it must have appeared before the Greeks had visited. Pivoting, the sphinx looked the same – decayed, crumbling – but those unreadable eyes looked down upon him measuring all the same.

"What…who…are you?" As soon as he spoke, he knew it was the right sort of question to ask. Harry felt himself start to relax – it could be worse, true he couldn't think of how it could be worse with a ancient monument speaking to him, but he knew that when it came to him it always could get…worse.

"Harmakhis-Khepri-Atum-Ra." His stomach did a flip at hearing the last set of the four names – Ra – the creator sun-god of ancient Egypt. He knew Khepri and Atum were also significant, but couldn't place them – at that point he truly wished Hermione could have advised him at what to do. But he didn't need Hermione to tell him what "Harmakhis" was. It was an ancient word for the sphinx.

"I seek to aide you," Harmakhis spoke before Harry could, the brows lowered slightly, bringing Harry's attention the snake that adorned the band of its crown, "in uncovering the secrets you seek." Stone lips quirked upward, seemingly pleased with his reaction.

'The ancient Great Sphinx of Giza is speaking. I'm fairly certain Hermione or any other historian would do the happy dance to have this wealth of knowledge offered up, yet all I can think of - is what it can tell me that will help me…' Harry thought, eyes flicking downward in his guilt at being so selfish.

"You seek the temple. Enter." When Harry looked up, he found himself gazing at a shimmering door only steps away from where he stood. One moment it seemed not to be before him, and in the next moment it was so real he wondered if he was blind.

'It…it's the temple.' Harry inhaled in his surprise, taking in the sight before him; the temple walls were smooth as if freshly plastered, although strangely bare. Most ancient monuments were engraved with hieroglyphs as well as images of the ancient gods and goddesses – this temple that the head of the sphinx rested upon had neither.

Without having been aware of it, Harry had moved closer, the shimmering of the visible then invisible temple appeared alike water. Harry closed his eyes, breathed out slowly, and then took the last step forward. Stepping forward didn't feel any different, but when he opened his eyes – that was when he knew things had changed.

For though it had been dark outside, once he opened his eyes within the temple, it was bathed in lazy golden light. It reflected off the smooth walls, wavy like the surface of ocean water. The source was a large coffin, high enough to have to crawl atop of, engraved into it were hieroglyphs - though it had no engraved images – it did seemed to be designed to be admired.

'Question is, then, why is it hidden away within this place?' Harry thought, nibbling on his bottom lip, unable to help himself when he felt the impulse to draw near the sarcophagus. His fingers brushed the metallic surface, and he felt the hair along his arms rise in reaction, it was how he knew… there was energy inside.

Startling him, the scar along his wrist which had retained a "soft" steady thrum of green energy flared alarmingly. Two of the "jewels" embedded within the skin of his wrist were glowing now, as if in reaction to being near the sarcophagus and its energy.

Whatever had held the case of the sarcophagus closed gave way with a rush escaping air, it seemed to take on a life of its own and like a gush of wind swirled the sand about until Harry could not see. Spitting sand into the shirt he had raised above his nose, he kept his eyes tightly shut; hoping that hunching his shoulders was enough to keep the sand from his ears. He found himself on the ground and having crawled to the wall, listening as the wind and sand created a dull roar. He knew then and there that he never wanted to be anywhere near to a real sandstorm.

"Be still." A female voice whispered, though Harry hadn't thought it possible that he would overhear such a soft tone over the winds, he did. At first, he didn't know what she had meant, but as he squinted through the sand to see her, the whirlwind that had built itself up as a small tornado all at once ceased. All around him, sand fell to the ground until inches of it seemed intent on burying him.

When he saw the woman, it became obvious that she was not alone, Harry didn't know how to describe it, but she had the same sort of presence as Harmakhis-Khepri-Atum-Ra. Though how a woman who was lovely and slender, not to mention shorter then he was could manage to be just as scary awe inspiring as the Great Sphinx, Harry did not even want to guess.

Her eyes were black as the night sky, with no pupil and no whites. Her skin was pale, as if she had never ventured into the light of day in all her years. She smiled at him, and he wasn't sure he was imagining it when he saw a glint of fang. Draped in a dark purple dress that fit snuggly enough to be called skin tight, she shouldn't have worried him – but she did.

The man who hovered behind her seemed clothed in the very darkness; it huddled about him like a bidding storm. Harry could not tell what his expression might be, for his head was shaped alike a donkeys though the pelt was black and shimmered like scales, two ears flicked in annoyance upon his head, and the foreword facing eyes blinked lazily, though Harry needed no one to tell him this man-creature had a temper. He, for it was clearly a male - with his proud male body covered in a loin cloth, he could be no other gender, but Harry knew though that this man-creature was a true predator.

The second man, Harry liked the look of more. His body was slender, and the muscles visible on his crossed arms and upon his chest, all the way down to his navel – though his groin was covered with a loincloth as well. His legs were well developed like a runner, and his feet sandaled. His head was that of a falcon, gazing at him in curiosity, with a tilted head, and seemingly amused expression. Harry could only read his expression so well because of his snowy white owl.

"Do not be freighted, boy – we are here to help, not to hurt." The dark man-creature murmured in a husky tone that sent shivers through Harry. For he knew that this predator would not care if he was sent to injure Harry or not, and would make that perfectly clear on their first impression.

"Seth, beloved, it is not becoming to frighten one so young. Little one, I am Nephthys – and this other is the son of our sister and brother, Horus, out of Isis by Osiris." The woman – Nephthys, lectured in soothing tones that reminded Harry of being lulled to sleep by some far off singing that he could never find the source of. Harry had known it hadn't been his Aunt, for she had retired to her bedroom long before he did, he thought now that he knew the source of it. He also knew he sat, crouched against the wall, in the presence of three Egyptian deities.

Horus, who was the only one who had not spoken, came forward to stand over Harry. He reached his hand down, and it took Harry a moment to realize the gesture had been made to help him to stand. He took it, the palm was warm, but Horus was strong for it only took a tug on the god's part to send Harry lurching to his feet. So he wouldn't fall, Horus held him smugly – Harry didn't need a mirror to know his face was flushed.

Perhaps a bit smugly, Horus chuckled as he righted Harry to stand on his own two feet.

"Oh, do stop showing off for the boy – what would Hathor say?" Seth grumbled softly, still standing beside Nephthys, with whom of the three was the only one Harry felt comfortable with. Harry looked to Seth, and noticed the shimmering bit of dark cloth in his hands – it was the invisibility cloak! Seth noticed his look, and seemed amused by the look of disgruntled anger Harry could not help but show.

"Ah, I see the boy has gained back his wits. Yes, we have gifts you ought to be familiar with – though between our time and yours they had become less then what they were. Firstly, the one you are most familiar with, the Shroud of Seth – or, as you know it the Cloak of Invisibility. Passed from father to child since ancient times, yours once more renewed to the sum of what it once was." With his words, Seth threw the bundle of shimmering dark cloth to Harry, seemingly amused when Harry reached out to catch it only to have the 'gift' wrap itself smugly around Harry's shoulders, almost as if it held a spirit of its own.

"I'll be going now – with one last warning, Harry, if you say my name beneath my shroud it will summon me – use that only as a last resort." Seth's black eyes flared white, and the shadows surrounding him seemed to swallow him up. He was gone before Harry could blink, and he made a mental note to never say Seth's name, most especially not beneath his shroud – it seemed vaguely perverse, that, and the god of destruction and shadows was just creepy.

"You know our gifts by the title 'Deathly Hallows', but they are more then that – and you will learn how much more as you walk the path we have set before you." Nephthys told him as she moved her wrist – Harry noticed then what he had not noticed before, that wrapped around her hand and wrist was a metallic "glove". It covered the tips of her fingers and thumb in metal caps that twisted about her fingers to join in her palm, where a black stone lay, the metal continued from there wrapping about her wrist like a ribbon.

"There is no greater example of how these 'Deathly Hallows' have changed then my own gift, the Ribbon of Nephthys – or, as you know it, the Stone of Resurrection. Over time, the black stone was removed from this, and set into a ring, becoming less then what it was. Place this over your scarred wrist and no one will see it – or the scar - for what it is, but for those who can fight its influence. When you use it, you will sense my presence within you, fear not – I seek only to aide you on your path." Nephthys told him in whispery tones that seemed to sing to him, she had came closer and as she spoke she had taken her gift off and was putting it onto Harry's hand, he was surprised to see that despite the difference in their hands, the 'ribbon' fit smoothly over his skin.

Nephthys kissed his cheek and he saw in her eyes a flare of green, and though he would have spoken more to her, she left disappearing in a gust of air. He felt as if he had seen his mother in her, and wondered if that was merely her nature, rather then truth. Though he still wondered – who had his mother been to these ancient gods and goddesses that they would entrust in him these "lost" gifts.

"Nephthys warns that it will hurt for only a moment, but that the rewards reap the ache." Horus murmured his breath rustling the hair along his ear, throughout the exchange between Seth and Nephthys, he had remained silent, now when he spoke, Harry took his words to heart and braced for pain. It washed over him, sending him weakened to his knees, the source of his pain seeming to be the stone sitting against his palm.

When Harry became aware again, Horus was kneeling beside him, and Harry could not help but muse with wary humor that he kept falling to his knees before the young god. As if sensing his thoughts, Horus let out a huff of breath that ruffled Harry's dark hair.

"My gift, I fear, will cause you heart ache – as it did for me, as I inherited it from my father, Osiris, who carried it as ruler of the living. Before going to the Underworld to rule there, while I rule here through the living ruler of Egypt." Horus told him, seeming to want to show off a little of his knowledge, in that way he reminded Harry fondly of Hermione. He though he knew what the third 'gift' would be from Horus, and braced himself for the swell of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

"This is the Scepter- Spear of Osiris before it became the Lance of Horus; my gift to you is the Deathly Hallow you know as the Elder Wand. As you know, a wand chooses the magical child – so the wand chooses you, and it will protect and serve you well, for it is not the traitorous Death Stick you know it as. As it was my fathers, then mine – it is yours, use it will on the path we have set before you, Harry." While Harry sat on the floor, stunned to see the golden scepter with the two horns protectively on either side of the star that rested nestled between them, the platform it sat upon was inscribed on both sides with hieroglyphs that ran down as long as his hand, from that point it arched downward engraved with lines then smoothing to a staff that ended with a flat surface, though oddly hollow in he center.

'Dumbledore… Severus…Fred, Remus, Tonks…I failed…' Harry shut his eyes tightly against the memory of that night; Horus touched his shoulder offering comfort, and hope – there still might be a way to defeat Voldemort if two gods and one goddess had just given him the Deathly Hallows as gifts.

"What is this path you've set before me?" Harry asked, knowing that this might be the last chance he had to ask.

"To rewrite history and what will be, you know the Horcruxes as they are in your time, use that to your advantage. This place will always be your refuge, the place we are strongest and can aide you – even near death, come here, and you will be revived. We do this for you, and for our people – for they are being manipulated by beings that claim to be their gods and goddesses made flesh, and as the people believe we are they, we can not act against them as you can. You have our gifts; now gather the Crown of Isis, the Goblet of Thoth, and the Instrument of Hathor, collect these, and bring them here – and we may yet act to destroy those who have taken on our likeness. Among all those that you will see, seek only the High Priest as your ally." Horus warned him, and then before Harry could speak - he changed his shape, becoming a falcon, he paused only long enough to tug fondly on a lock of Harry's hair before, with a rush of his wings, he flew out of the door to the temple.

In that moment, Harry felt very much alone.

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