Vernon Dursley tugged on the rope he had around his 'nephews' wrists, scowling at him for wincing at the treatment. The boy had been nothing but a thorn in his side since the day he was left on his doorstep. He'd fed him, clothed him, dealt with his crying for four long years, and he'd finally had enough. His wife was visiting her childhood friend and had taken their precious son Dudley with her, so he had decided to get rid of the brat and surprise her. He knew she'd be so pleased.
He'd brought him to the darkest, dingiest, most disgusting back alley in all of London, knowing someone would buy the boy and teach him his place in one of the numerous brothels littering the area. He stood there waiting; arms crossed and face set in determination. He'd give him away if he had to. By the end of the day, he'd no longer be forced to suffer with the burden that was Harry Potter.
A tall, darkly tanned man walked out ofa shop in Knockturn Alley, nodding to himself as he looked through his purchases one last time to make sure it was all present. His godson loved experimenting with Potions; he knew he'd adore the new and exotic ingredients that he picked up while on his trip through England. He flicked a speck of dirt off his well-tailored suit, and headed back towards the brighter Diagon Alley. Turning right where he should have turned left, he ended up in a very small street with no lights. He noticed at once that magic was all but dead here. Some part of Muggle London then. Prepared to turn around and go back the way he had come, he stopped when he felt a strong magical presence brush past his own magical aura. Eyes wide and curious, he walked a little further down towards the bud of Light.
He stared at the very large, fat muggle who had the Light tied with a rough rope around his neck and wrists. He had to do something. He looked only a year or so younger than his own godchild. He couldn't leave him with this…monster. "Good day, sir," he said politely. "What brings you here of all places, with your…son?"
Vernon scowled down at the child, much to the other mans anger. "This is no son of mine; just the bastard son of my wife's dead sister."
"Oh, I see." Yes, he had no guilt about taking him away from this man. It was obviously for the best. He waited for him to continue.
"I was going to sell him to one of the…lodgings around here," Vernon continued, a sadistic sneer on his ugly face. "You are…"
"Donkor. I'm here on official business as an Ambassador of Egypt," he smoothly lied. Well, it wasn't exactly a lie. He knew the muggle wouldn't understand, so why fry what little mind he had with technicalities. "And yourself sir. What might I call you?"
"Oh…Vernon Dursley," he said quickly, extending a meaty hand for him to shake. Donkor took it with a disarming smile, watching as the other man got more comfortable with him. He took a moment to look around and guess what type of "lodgings" was around. He was going to sell a child, a magical child, to a common whorehouse? His rage began to boil even as he forced himself calm. Get the child and leave, he told himself sternly. Get the child away from him and go before you do something dangerous…like blow up the street.
"I know the household of my employer is in need of a slave. Egypt is a hard, hot place to live…why would we do what we can simply have others do for us?" he said with a laugh. Appealing to the man's cruel side seemed to be the best course of action.
"He'll grow up strong," Vernon said with a set look on his face. "He's already been taught to follow orders. He won't give you a bit of trouble," he said with a thunderous look to the boy.
"How much are you asking for him?" Donkor said after a time. He pretended to inspect the child as if he were a piece of cattle, checking his teeth and bone structure. He smiled kindly at the boy when Vernon wasn't looking, and was rewarded with a less frightened glance in his direction. He took it as a good sign. "He's rather scrawny, even for his tender age," he said. He hoped the boy wouldn't take his words too much to heart. The Egyptian didn't even bother to haggle; he just wanted to leave and get as far away as he could. Vernon's eyes bugged in glee.
With the rope in his hand and the boy by his side, he bid the other man a stiff farewell. "Thank you Mr. Dursely. I'm sure everything has worked out for the best."
"Yes, yes, of course. You do everything he tells you boy!" he shouted as they left the alley.
Donkor waited until he was long out of hearing distance before stopping and kneeling in front of the child. The poor thing was terrified. "Hello little one. What's your name?"
He was surprised at the answer he received. "Boy."
"No, child, I know you are a young male. What are you called?"
Small shoulders went up and down in a shrug. "That's what they call me."
I should have hexed him into oblivion, the man thought to himself. Damn his gentle heart. "You have no name then."
"No." The child sniffled, hastily wiping whatever moister his large eyes made before they could fall.
Donkor's heart went out to the abused boy. But in his haste to get the boy away from his uncle, he'd gone and ruined his chance at being able to take the boy as his own. "Listen to me little one. Do you understand what has just happened?" A negative shake. He sighed. "In order get you away from…that man," he didn't trust himself to say anything else, "I had to buy you. That means that you are now under my control. Do you understand?"
This time he got a very frightened nod in reply. He placed a large hand on the boys head, keeping it there until he stopped shaking and looked up. "I'm sorry that this has happened to you. But by the laws of my own country, what I have done cannot be undone. Because you were born here in England, if I handed you over to the authorities, they would most likely give you back to your…to him." Donkor sighed to himself. All magical children were monitored from birth. If one was left orphaned, he should have been taken into another magical home. That was how it worked in his homeland. The fact that they hadn't take him away from an abusive household…he couldn't understand. But he wouldn't let them take the child back.
"The only way for me to keep you from going back is by taking you with me." He'd have no choice but to bring this matter up with Pharaoh. But he was sure he would accept his judgment and take the boy in as his servant if it would mean keeping him from harm. "Do you understand?"
The child nodded. He gazed at him with hopeful green eyes. "I won't go back?"
Donkor patted his head affectionately. "No. Never again."
"Can I go with you?"
He smiled. "Of course."
"What's your name?" he asked tentatively.
"Donkor. It means 'humble' in my native language."
"Wow." He looked down, radiating shame.
"Little one? Look at me and tell me what is wrong." He shrunk all of his belongings and put them in his pocket so that both hands were free to hug the boy. After initial shock, terror and weariness, the child melted into his embrace. Had he never been shown such a small kindness before? No. Of course not.
"I don't have a name," he cried, small body wracked with sobs. "The dog next door has a name…why don't I?"
Donkor murmured soothing words into his ears to calm him. "Shh, small one, shhh. It's alright to cry. Would you like me to give you one?" he asked when the one in his arms had settled enough to understand his words. "Would that ease your sorrow?"
Eyes filled with need glistened up at him. "You can do that?"
"If you wish it."
"Yes! I want a name too!"
"Shh, settle down. I'll give you a name." He thought about what he knew about the boy. Not much, but… he had brushed his magic. It was radiant warmth like nothing he had come across before. Its core was so tightly wound within the boy that it reminded him of a closed Lotus bud, precious to all those of his country. He smiled at the boy; he needed to know if he was right. And there it was. The smile he received in returned paled to the way the child's magic suddenly blossomed in front of his eyes. Yes. "Child of the Lotus," he whispered in contentment.
"What?" the boy asked timidly.
"The blue water lily is a sacred flower to my people," he explained quietly. "It represents the blossoming of new life born from harsh beginnings." He stopped at the confused look the boy gave him. He would tell him more of his namesake when he was older and could understand. "I would name you Nefertem, after the Lord of the Lotus."
"Nef..Nefr…" he tried. His face fell when he couldn't pronounce it.
Donkor hastened to calm him. "It is a noble name; one that you will grow into. Why not try 'Tem' for short?"
"Tem…" the child whispered. "I can really keep it?"
Donkor laughed lightly. "If it pleases you."
"Tem," he repeated over and over. "My name is Tem! I have a name!" he cried in happiness, hugging him around the neck as tightly as his weak little arms could. The Egyptian laughed along with the elated boy, feeling a connection grow between them. Having been the one to name him, he would always be bound to him through magic. That suited him just fine.
"Come, Tem," he said, grabbing his hand and leading him away. "Let's get you cleaned up. Tomorrow we return home to the Middle Kingdom, where Pharaoh awaits."