Summary: He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was hardly the first to attempt a purge of the non-magical community. The Dark Lord cannot be attributed for the devious idea of joining the gods on a pedestal of eternal fame and worship.
No, even he draws inspiration on events in the forgotten past. Even he has a teacher.
Will history repeat itself?
Takes place in Ancient Egypt
Categories: Historical Characters: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 4
Completed: No
Word count: 6070
Read: 10848
Published: 07/20/06
Updated: 02/02/08
1. Prologue by Marauder by Midnight
2. Isis by Marauder by Midnight
3. Morning Ritual by Marauder by Midnight
4. A Solution by Marauder by Midnight
Prologue by Marauder by Midnight
Author's Notes:
All characters named in this story are created by J.K. Rowling.
When We Were Gods
Prologue – The Smell of Fear
He surveyed the frightened men and women standing before him and drank in the smells of trepidation that ran through their veins all too naturally. He closed his eyes and smiled, savoring the emotions that coursed through the dim room, the sweat that fouled up the air, and the silence that out-voiced the other sounds of the room. And he knew this is what he lived for.
As all eyes watched him, some expectantly while others apprehensively, he knew he was above all of them. He alone had been able to purge himself of the useless emotion called fear.
“I believe all of you know why you are here.” No one dared to make a sound. He pushed himself out of the lone chair on the platform. As he did, he noticed a sharp movement from the woman on his right. “You are here to become gods!” As his strong voice echoed off the walls, the woman began to pace as well. “You are here to court the power dancing just out of your reach. You are here to reclaim your position as leaders of the world.” Yes. He began to notice the spark of revolution in even the most Imperius-cursed man.
“Yes, I see, in even the strongest here, the desire – no, the hunger - to be free. The Ministry has a choking grasp around your necks. The Muggles forbid you to use your powers before them. Together, they force you to live among others and follow their petty laws. Together, they suppress your magic, taking away from your very soul!”
He heard it then, the woman’s sigh of contentment as she marked her victim with her eyes. It is time. “Fight back,” he sneered. “Claim what is yours. Purge the world of those weaklings who contaminate the very air you breathe.” He straightened and smiled mirthlessly. “Or – “
“Avada Kedavra!” the woman screamed, wand aimed at the unfortunate man whose fear reeked more than all the others. Before he caught a glimpse of the dead man’s face, the body had already slumped over; Bellatrix Black wasn’t feared for her sluggish movements. Gasps rippled through the audience, breaking the trance-like atmosphere.
He bellowed above the cacophony, “Join him.” He pointed his wand at the lifeless body in the void among the people. Perfect, he thought, show them what true terror is. Behold -
“Lord Voldemort!” he shouted that name to the ceiling, enjoying the caresses of utter dread as all of them reacted to that name. Naturally, the hall became silent once more. “Speak up,” he demanded, “and we’ll let you…go,” he ended with a sinister tone. No one dared speak up; the threat was all too clear.
*
After he’d given the last Mark to the last initiate and dismissed the last Death Eater, save one, he settled back into his chair.
“My lord?”
Ah, his most loyal Death Eater.
“Bellatrix.”
“Did you need to see me, my lord?”
“Yes,” he sighed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bellatrix flinch slightly; all these years of campaigning, never had he shown fatigue. “Do you know why we are doing what we do?”
Again, he watched sickened as Bellatrix struggled to compose her features again; she was still learning the arts of hiding human emotions. In her fleeting moment of weakness, he saw the hurt flash through her eyes. Insulted, Bellatrix stiffened. “Of course, my lord. It’s just like what you told the initiates tonight. To reclaim our positions as gods among the Muggles, Mudbloods, and Muggle-lovers.”
“Yes.” He was unimpressed; even a Muggle could repeat his words. “But do you understand when this was first, and last, attempted?”
Reluctantly, Bellatrix shook her head.
He smirked. “Sometimes,” he whispered, “It pays to listen to Professor Binns.”
End notes: This chapter follows as closely to canon as my knowledge of the Harry Potter universe as of July 19, 2006 allows. Any information revealed to be false by Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows will not be changed.
Reviews are graciously accepted and appreciated.
Isis by Marauder by Midnight
Author's Notes:
Egypt was the mother of magicians.
-Clement of Alexandria (300 A.D.)
All characters in this chapter are characters in Egyptian myths. The plot of this is also a retelling of one such myth.
Chapter 1 – Isis
Egypt was the mother of magicians.
- Clement of Alexandria (300 A.D.)
The hekau rushed through the first pylon, the main gateway, into the hall that led to the courtyard. He ran down the covered hall, ignoring the intricately carved pillars and the lifelike statues of animals. He knew he was being reckless, disturbing the per netjer with his presence, but this was a matter of importance. Extreme importance. He prayed the gods would understand.
“Isis!” he shouted when he reached the open courtyard. The young hekau flinched as his sharp cry bounced off the stone walls around him. If Isis hadn’t heard his calls before, she certainly heard them now. He didn’t dare look toward the hall to his left; there were boundaries even he wouldn’t defy. “Isis!” he yelled again, this time more urgently than before.
“Do you want the entire kingdom to hear you?” a voice hissed. The hekau turned to his left to see a young, black-haired woman emerge from the depths of the hall alone. His eyes caught those of the woman’s, and he found himself struggling to free himself from the dark depths of equally dark eyes. Fumbling over his mistake of making eye contact with a goddess, he finally diverted his eyes to his sandals. “My apologies, Isis, lady, but the pharaoh requires the presence of Osiris and Hathor.”
Isis waved her hand dismissively as she walked by the bowed hekau. The hekau nearly fainted from the powerful scent of the lotus perfume, the sight of long, strong legs peeking out from beneath the cotton skirt, and the soft jangle of the golden bracelets on each arm. He was, however, brought back to the present at the sound of her sharp voice.
“And why do you come to me?”
The hekau hesitated when he detected the anger in her voice. He didn’t want to answer the question; not only did Isis already know the answer, he would face her wrath by verbally diminishing her position. All the hekau feared the two great gods, Osiris being god of the dead while the gentle Hathor was prone to suddenly change into the deadly Sekhmet. But to admit his fear of them would submit himself to Isis’ jealous rage. He had a family back home to protect; besides he wanted to make it back with his pride, and body, intact.
Damn the other hekau for forcing him here.
“Well?”
The hekau thought fast. “Isis, Great One,” he gasped, “you have a way with words no other can rival.” This was true; Isis had a knack for bringing even the most stubborn of the gods to their places. The hekau could only imagine what means of persuasion the goddess used.
The woman stiffened slightly. “Yes, and yet the king won’t see me in his council? Does he not value my opinion?” The hekau trembled at the envious tone the goddess used. Gold bracelets tinkled again as the goddess sighed impatiently. “Very well. I will pass on the message.”
The hekau sighed with relief, standing before the goddess a moment too long.
Isis whipped out the smooth rod of wood in a flurry of cloth and aimed it swiftly at his trembling head. This was the first time the hekau was exposed to such a unique and strange wand. Before he had time to admire its simplicity, however, the goddess’ dark voice demanded his every attention.
“Take this message back to the pharaoh. Remind him who placed him on the throne,” Isis spat out. “Now get out of my sight before I drain you of your magic and feed you to my crocodiles.”
The hekau needed no further warning. Clumsily, he stumbled toward the hallway at the end of the courtyard and disappeared.
*
Isis watched with narrowed eyes as the pathetic figure Disapparated. Foolish man, she thought. Why Re chose him to receive my gift of magic, I’ll never know.
Using her own wand, Isis, too, Disapparated to the hwt netjer of her husband, Osiris.
*
Re rubbed his haggard face with wrinkled hands. He stared out the window, looking down into the great city he’d reigned over from the time of Creation. From above, Re could see everything – the architects repairing a damaged temple, the merchants selling their fruits, the wives washing their clothes in the Nile. He was smiling as his sharp eyes spied a shady group of lads taking a break next to the palace’s western walls.
Leaning against the stone wall, all four boys were staring keenly at the palace, their thirsty eyes drinking in the richly decorated hwt netjer.
Unrest was stirring; he could feel it in his ancient bones.
“Pharaoh Re!” a voice called out from deep inside the palace.
The old man sighed. Always trust Thoth to make himself heard before reaching his destination. “Pharaoh Re!”
Re chuckled before shouting, “I’m here, Thoth! In my office!”
He heard a young man gasp the password to the guards stationed outside his door. The door banged open, and a dark-haired man burst in. “Pharaoh…Re,” he heaved as he struggled to catch his breath. The old man watched amused as the young lad collapsed on his floor.
“Careful, Thoth,” he moved to help the boy, “Now calm yourself and tell me what’s gotten you in such a frenzy.”
Thoth gulped in the deliciously cool air before panting, “I’ve delivered your message.”
“Oh?” Re mused. “What did they say?”
Thoth looked glumly at the old pharaoh. “More like what did she say.” When he caught the look Re gave him, he explained further, “I was too…terrified to visit their palaces, so I went to Isis instead.”
Re frowned. “And she’ll pass on my message?”
Thoth nodded quickly. “She assured me she will.”
How queer. It usually took bribery to persuade Isis to follow a command. Perhaps she’d heard of the revolution through her spies. “Did she seem at all…happy when you told her?”
Thoth’s eyes opened widely in surprise. “No, Pharaoh. She was anything but pleased to hear that your summons left her out.” He looked down at the floor again. “She…also asked me to pass a message.” Thoth hesitated with a familiar look on his face.
“Thoth, I won’t get angry at you for being the messenger,” Re reassured the boy.
Still unsure, Thoth fiddled with the hem of his top while he mumbled, “Isis told me to remind you who placed you on the throne.” Thoth’s eyebrows snapped together as he thought about her words for the first time. “But Pharaoh, what could this mean? Pharaoh?”
Re had staggered backwards when he heard her warning. Surely she…
“Pharaoh, are you all right?” Re felt Thoth’s skinny arms try to support him to a chair. Re blinked several times before looking down at his student. “Yes, I’m fine.” He forced a smile to convince the boy all was well. “Go off to morning meal before you get in trouble.”
After giving the pharaoh one last look of concern, the boy walked out. The pharaoh wandered back to his window to look over the disaster brewing in his kingdom. Oh gods. He could almost hear the war drums.
End notes:
Isis is rarely portrayed as anything but good. However, for the purpose of this story, I have given a little spin on her character.
per netjer means “temple” or “god’s house.”
hwt netjer means “temple” or “god’s mansion.”
hekau means “magician” or “wizard.”
Reviews are graciously accepted and appreciated.
Morning Ritual by Marauder by Midnight
Author's Notes:
All characters mentioned are characters from Egyptian myths.
Chapter 2 – Morning Ritual
“Osiris!”
Iris appeared just outside the first pylon; a goddess was never forced to walk down the processional avenue reserved for lesser beings. She glared at the two obelisks flanking each side. Her fury flowed from her, strengthening the summer breeze to a chilling gust of wind, rattling the holy flags that signified the home of a god.
“Osiris!” she bellowed again. She stomped her feet in frustration; her husband had never put her “petty issues” before his own, even though their shrines were housed in the same temple.
Suddenly her sharp ears caught the sound of monotonous chanting and singing, marking the approach of the priests of Re.
Damn, she thought, the morning ritual. Apparently Osiris even got his shrine prepared before she did.
She glanced from the bend of the processional avenue to the flags waving before her, not sure what to do.
Isis moved toward the pylon but stopped. She knew the consequences for appearing to a mortal were forbidden, regardless of the fact she’d done so too many times already. It was one of the specific rules Re had set out for her and the others to follow and the only rule that still infuriated him above all others. Not that, Isis hastily assured herself, he’d be ruling for much longer. But, exposing herself would certainly anger her husband, a man whose reputation has yet to be tainted. She was here to ask for a favor, she reminded herself, not to invoke his wrath.
I’ll play along, Re…for now.
Quickly, Iris whipped out her wand and muttered a spell just before the High Priest rounded the bend.
The High Priest smiled warmly at the bent hag standing beneath the flags. Isis felt her head tilt forward in a humble nod at the small, wrinkled priest, secretly shuddering at the sight of the deformed priests.
She watched as more priests marched passed, each wearing the priest’s headdress above his bat-like ears and priest’s reed skirt around their thin bellies. They were the same height as she, the hag, was, but in her human form, Iris knew smugly, she could crush them with her sandals. Water, food, linen, and jewelry passed her spot next to the obelisk, each handled carefully by its attendant. Her sharp eyes took in all the details; her husband, she realized angrily, seemed to get more food, more gold, more priests than the pharaoh had afforded her all these years. Another issue to speak to the dear pharaoh about.
As the last priest passed, Isis changed her appearance to that of a middle-ranked priest balancing a jar of wine on her head. Just as she burst into the courtyard, a much older-looking priest approached her.
“You!” The priest scrutinized Isis and the contents on her head carefully before directing her to the hall that led to the shrines. “Wine goes there.”
Isis frowned, sagging beneath the weight of the pot. The body of a priest certainly wasn’t built for strength. “The wine should go to the god directly, no?”
The elderly priest chuckled in surprise. “Little naïve one. No one,” he explained patiently, “goes into the inner sanctum but the pharaoh himself.” He shook his head; apparently this priest didn’t pay much attention in class.
Tired, Isis sighed, glancing around to make sure all the priests were busy cleaning up and preparing for the ritual. Isis shifted the jar on her head to one side as she pulled out her wand discreetly with the other hand. She whispered the ancient spell to bring this tiresome priest under her command.
“Send me to the inner sanctum,” she ordered.
Immediately the tiny priest pressed his hand against her back, startling her. “This way, young one.” Isis couldn’t conceal her smile as the older priest gave her clearance to the hypostyle hall.
As soon as she slipped out of sight down the hall, Isis threw away her disguise. She took a moment to admire the innermost section of her husband’s home enviously.
The tall pillars that held up the roof above her head were sculpted, each one different from the others. Some had hieroglyphics imprinted, praising the work of Osiris, the god of the dead. Others had the beautiful budding flowers and vines carved in from top to bottom to worship Osiris’ efforts in Creating the world. Isis tilted her head as far as possible to stare at the intricate scenes of worship painted so carefully on the ceilings.
Isis growled as she noticed a particular panel. In the scene, a picture of Osiris standing next to the pharaoh Re on a pedestal, basking in glory as non-magicals and other gods, her included, threw themselves at their feet. I would never bow, she thought fiercely as she strode powerfully past the Sacred Lake and into her husband’s chambers.
“Osiris!” she shouted as she threw the doors open with a bang. The scene she found before her only fuelled her fury. “I’m dealing with incompetent priests out there while you’re here enjoying grapes?” she screeched.
Indeed, a dark-haired young man laid back on a reclining chair with only a short loincloth around his middle, his Atef-crown lay forgotten beside the chair. One hand was half-immersed in the bowl of fruit by his side.
“Oh, Isis,” Osiris sighed, his eyes still closed as he savored another grape. “What brings you here, my wife?”
Isis glared at him resentfully. “Some god you are.”
Osiris yawned. “It wasn’t my idea to name us that, Isis. It was all your doing.” Osiris sat up, one perfectly plucked eyebrow raised. “If the priests are out there right now, how did you get in?”
Isis sauntered over and plucked a grape from the bowl. “Magick,” she replied impishly. When Osiris groaned, she let out a short laugh. “They don’t call me the goddess of magick for nothing, Osiris.”
Osiris reached down to scoop up his crown. “Why are you here, Isis? Tell me so you can leave,” he half-joked as he adjusted the crown on his head.
Isis’ eyes dimmed in cold fury as she remembered Re’s snub. “The sun god requests your council today,” she declared icily as she popped the grape in her mouth. These delicacies imported from the far east were only sent to her temple on the pharaoh’s birthday, the day of great generosity, and on deity festival dates. As far as she knew, only Osiris, as the only god who shared the platform in the pantheon with Re, had the privilege of receiving them everyday.
Osiris snorted. “He’s always asking for my advice, Isis. How does it offend you this time?”
“He sent an initiate to tell me!” Isis defended herself. “He never sends those…blood-pretenders unless he was in too much of a hurry to find an official.”
Still unconcerned, Osiris grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl. “Did you probe his mind?”
Isis stood up straighter. “No,” she admitted. How could I have been so stupid? “I was too distracted by the blood-pretender to do so.”
Osiris sighed and took Isis’ hand. “Isis, this anger of yours isn’t helping you. Direct your wrath somewhere else! Into your magick, for example. You’d be a stronger witch if you could.”
Isis jerked her hand away. “I don’t want to be stronger.” Mentally she slapped herself for sounding like a child. Suddenly she clasped Osiris’ hand between both of hers. “I want power. Power only Re can give me.” Her eyes widened. “Tell me Re’s birth name, Osiris. Give me the power I seek!”
Osiris shook his head. “I may agree to share council matters with you, Isis, but this I cannot do.”
Isis tried again. “The name would bring me to the same platform in the pantheon as the two of you! That is all! I merely want the attention and honor I deserve, Osiris.”
Osiris squeezed his eyes shut. Another one of these days.“You know I cannot even if I wished to, Isis. Re had performed an Unbreakable Vow. I cannot help but keep his birth name a secret.”
Isis stood up, sick of the way her husband was treating her, as if subduing a child. “I placed him on that sun dais,” Isis whispered, her voice a deadly calm. “He took my rightful spot, and I said nothing. I killed to get that throne only to have it usurped by him.”
“Isis – “
“And you,” Isis pulled out her wand, enjoying the sight of her husband’s muscles tense as she did so. “I murdered my own brother for you. I risked my life bringing you back. I bore you a son. You owe me,” she spoke through gritted teeth. “If I can’t take back my spot, at least I will have a say in policies. I have a right to know what is going on in the world out there, Osiris. All the gods do! Who does Re think he is, singling some out while banishing others to a comfortable exile?”
Osiris stared up at his wife. “We all know, Isis, how you feel about having a usurper on the throne.” He eyed his wife warily. “You can’t possibly expect him to be so naïve as to believe you’ve gotten over this and welcome you back to the council with open arms, can you? Especially,” he added wryly, “since you obviously haven’t forgotten.
“But, you are right, Isis. You do have the right to know about the world that goes on around you. So I shall tell you of the troubles harassing the world.”
Osiris stood up and began to pace. “The non-magicals have come very close to discovering our secret. Apparently,” he sighed wearily, “you aren’t the only restless god, Isis.”
“What?’ Isis swayed on her feet. “This is what Re’s trying to hide from us?”
Osiris nodded. “Too many non-magicals have glimpsed us popping from place to place. Many of the curious and powerful ones have looked into it and have begun spreading the word that we exist. Re didn’t want the gods to worry and abandon our duties. That is why he called a private council of Hathor, I’m guessing, and myself.”
“Duties?” Isis interrupted again. “I should hardly think making sure the Nile flowed would outweigh the threat of exposure,” she quipped sarcastically.
“Isis, the others don’t know about this,” Osiris told his wife sternly. “I share this confidential information with you because of who you are to me. Do not take advantage of my trust!”
Isis sighed. “Can you imagine the chaos, Osiris?”
Osiris nodded. “The pharaoh can, too.”
“Bah!” Isis scoffed. “The pharaoh. The pharaoh’s as useless and mortal as the rest of us.” She glared. “Throwing the most useless titles at us. Now those non-magicals are worshipping us for the most ridiculous reasons. Like I give a toad’s wart about those barren women. Goddess of fertility,” Isis shook her head in disbelief.
“Exactly, my dear.” Osiris sighed again. “Imagine a world where non-magicals no longer worshipped us, no longer needed us, no longer cared for us. Where would we be? What would we do? This revolution could lead to our downfall. If those non-magicals ever found out we were mortal like them but with the gift of the Elixir of Life, the fact that we do have magick wouldn’t make a difference. We are mortals who can live forever.”
“What do you think will happen, Osiris?”
Here, finally, was the tender woman Osiris had fallen in love with – the woman who could still feel fear, hope, and despair. He gazed at her dark eyes. “We’d disappear, Isis,” he replied sadly. “They would destroy Re’s temple, his palace. They’d find a way to kill him. Then they’ll come after us, here in the desert. Our hwt petjer would be raided for its treasures and destroyed. We’ll be killed if found. The lucky ones among us would hide well, live among the unwitting non-magicals, waiting for the right time to reclaim what’s ours. Until then, they’ll be forced to live as non-magicals do, minimizing the use of magick. They’ll live in a world of their own creation and among the others, yet they cannot become like them, always the outcast. Exile in the world we created, condemned by beings that sprung from our own blood.”
Isis narrowed her black eyes, the warmth fleeing from them. “No,” she whispered darkly, “we didn’t survive this long for those weaklings to put us down.”
End notes:
In mythology, the only god at the head (the platform, in the story) of the pantheon was Re. Even Osiris was beneath the sun god.
Re’s “birth name,” in mythology, was actually called his “secret name.”
The start of the revolution was not the realization that gods were mortals. Rather, the Muggles were tired of the sun god’s reign.
The love between Osiris and Isis, in mythology, is comparable to that of James and Lily. However, for the purpose of this story, their love is ragged.
Otherwise, this chapter is as close to Egyptian myth as possible.
Reviews are greatly appreciated.
A Solution by Marauder by Midnight
Author's Notes:
It's been a LONG time since my last update (more than a year ago!). I'm sure a lot of you are going to go back and read the first three chapters; I sincerely apologise for letting this beautiful plot bunny lapse. Here is the next installment; hopefully I'll be better about updating!
Chapter 3 – A Solution
Isis watched as Osiris Apparated to the per hetjer of Hathor before leaving for her own home, her mind nearly exploding with excitement.
As she walked down her hypostyle hall, passed her Sacred Lake, and into the depths of her sparingly decorated inner sanctum, she knew with malicious joy her place in the pantheon would be guaranteed at last. Now, more than ever, with the threat of eternal exile or even death, she needed her place on the platform secured. Even after (if, she corrected herself, if) the gods were gone, the statues would forever remain in the pantheon, her image forever reminding the world the power, the glory she had. A place on the platform would keep her alive in human hearts; a piece of her would always remain.
The only way to move a statue, or even to enter, in the pantheon deep in the oasis would be to declare Re the Sun God’s pure and true name.
If Osiris won’t tell me, she thought gleefully, I’ll get it from the pharaoh himself.
She headed to the farthest corner of her room where a woven basket stood alone, half-hidden by the shadows. She scrutinized the creatures that hissed inside before selecting one.
“Oh Wadjet,” she purred as she stroked the black and orange spitting cobra, the last of its kind that was given to her as a gift from her sister, the goddess of snakes. “Who knew your fetish for cobras would come in handy?”
*
Even as Osiris approached the courtyard of Hathor, he already felt uneasy. What his wife had suggested he do to the non-magicals…He shuddered, yet deep inside, he knew it would be the only option available.
Focus on Hathor.
“Hathor?” he called when he reached the courtyard. He didn’t venture further, respecting the privacy of Hathor’s home. “Hathor?”
“Ah Osiris, you’ve come to visit me.” A tall, dark woman appeared from the shadows. She wore a crown with two horns protruding from it over her cow-like ears. “Where’s your lady?” she asked innocently and sultrily.
“I’m here to take you to Re. He’s summoned for us.”
Hathor nodded solemnly as she walked – no, glided – to Osiris. “About the revolt?” Osiris nodded in response, ignoring Hathor’s hand as it felt along his exposed chest. “The end of the world.” She sighed. “Did you ever expect it to come so soon?”
Osiris looked down in surprise. “Soon? It’s been…millennia since the Creation.”
Hathor twitched her hips seductively. “Yes. But it seems as if it happened just yesterday.” She glanced up at Osiris through thick eyelashes with heavily-lined eyes. “Don’t you still have things to do? Sights to see? People to…meet?”
Osiris laughed at Hathor’s teasings. “You play your role as goddess of sex too well, Hathor.”
Hathor stopped moving her hips and rubbing his chest. She smiled childishly as she exclaimed, “Don’t tell me you didn’t fall for it at all!”
Osiris shook his head. “Not one moment, I’m afraid.”
Hathor wrinkled her nose. “Too deeply in love with Isis?” she jested. When she noticed the cloud pass over Osiris’ face, she quickly changed the subject. “I have to have some fun with this title of mine.” She grinned cheekily. “The other day in the priests’ headquarters, I charmed-“
“Hathor!” Osiris’ eyes widened in surprise. “The priests’ headquarters are for priests only! What would Re think if he knew you were seducing his priests?” He frowned in disapproval.
Hathor wrinkled her nose again “Fine. Let’s not talk about that. You say the pharaoh wanted to see us?”
*
“Pharaoh Re!” For the second time that morning, Thoth ran down the hall toward the pharaoh’s private chambers. “Pharaoh! They’re here!”
Re rubbed his sore eyes. “What, Thoth? Who’s here?”
Thoth stopped wide-eyed in front of the pharaoh, his usually tan face scarlet. He glanced around carefully as if expecting an eavesdropper in the hidden room. “The gods,” he whispered.
Re sat up immediately, his dark eyes narrowed. “They’re outside? Have you let them in yet?”
Thoth shook his head. “They’re being detained by the guards. Apparently the guards don’t trust their shepherd disguises.” Thoth hid a smile behind his hand. “The gods, I’m afraid, don’t seem to remember it isn’t the Early Ages anymore,” he snorted. “I knew at once it was them.”
“Lead them into the throne room.” As Thoth ran back to the palace gates, Re Apparated to the throne room with a determined face.
*
“May the gods grant you a bountiful harvest,” the two cloaked figures who’d been brought before him by four wary guards, kneeled in greeting. Re barely hid the laughter at the sight. Both shepherds had on cotton dresses tied at the waist with rope, each hiding their faces with a simple farmer’s hat, the only normal article of clothing the pair wore.
“You may rise,” Re solemnly nodded after collecting himself. Thoth, who’d preceded the newcomers, took his place next to Re’s sun dais.
As the shepherds stood, the guards shifted uneasily. A few pairs of hands crept up toward the hilt of their swords. Re smiled at them; apparently there were at least some non-magicals still loyal to him.
“You may leave,” he stated, “I will speak to these visitors alone.”
The men glanced at each other nervously. They’d heard talk of the revolution, and they’d die before allowing any harm to come to their sun god. Finally, one of them, Re recognized as the young captain, stepped forward, his eyes cast down in respect. “Great Pharaoh, we would rather remain to ensure your safety from these…” the captain glared suspiciously at the two figures who still hid their faces, “…shepherds.”
Re waved a hand dismissively but offered a kind smile. “Not your concern, captain, but I thank you all the same. They are no threat, I assure you. You may leave.” As the guards turned hesitantly toward the doors, Re added almost pleadingly, “If you would please keep this between us, it would be much appreciated.” Who knew what the revolution leaders would say if they ever found out about this meeting.
The young captain turned his head and nodded, a gleam of determination shining in his eyes. “This will remain between us and the gods,” he promised.
You have no idea, Re thought wearily.
“I bestow upon you a hearty harvest,” Re wished upon them as he raised a hand in blessing. The guards turned and bowed to receive it before proceeding quietly out the room.
As soon as the heavy doors clicked shut, the two “shepherds” vanished. In their place stood a young shirtless man and a naked woman who resembled a cow.
“Oh!” the woman let out a breath as she patted her sweaty hair. “You’d think humans would be more practical in their fashion, wouldn’t you? Give them all the resources to make the best clothes, or better yet, a full body with all the glorious essentials, and here they are, creating suffocating…garbage!” The woman shook her head in disgust.
Re chuckled as he descended the steps from his throne, Thoth at his heels. “Osiris, Hathor, good to see you again.” Re smiled, his eyes twinkling in merriment. “I assume you’re more familiar with the dress code of the priesthood and have not the slightest idea of the fashion amongst the people? Your choices,” he said, “hadn’t been seen for at least a millennium by the public. The only ones who wear what you wore are priests, and they’re not even human!”
Osiris joined in the laughter. “It seems we are behind the times,” he chuckled. Suddenly, he remembered why he was in the sun temple. “Re.” His laugh lines disappeared. “Is this about the revolt?”
“Oh, yes.” Re’s face immediately aged several hundred years. “The humans are more determined than ever to conquer the land. They’ve enlisted more to join their cause, appealing to complaints the people have had for centuries. They’re upset because Isis isn’t distributing her power as widely anymore. Because some gods have become lax in their duties. The flooding of the Nile this past season certainly didn’t help in my defense either. They’ve decided the world would be a better place without us.” Re shook his head, despair etched in every corner of his face. “Now I’ve asked for your council. What say you?”
Osiris hesitated. Did he dare give Re the horrible advice Isis had just given him? There was no doubt in his mind that what she’d said was the truth, that somehow, the humans needed to be dealt with swiftly and harshly. He thought back to the other times he’d presented Re with her advice. Re’d praised him for ingenuity, cunning, and skill. He’d even told Osiris his birth name, placing him on the platform of the Egyptian Pantheon. All with the help of his wife, whose name was still tainted with vile and deception.
“Well,” Osiris proceeded cautiously. He knew this solution would grieve Re even more. “We could ask Sekhmet to help us.”
Re’s eyes snapped shut painfully. Sekhmet. The goddess of war and death. Sekhmet, a seemingly mild and peaceful woman, had chosen her title specifically, much to the other gods’ surprise. She became deadly and uncontrollable, always traveling to watch battles with an expression that could chill any soldier right to his bones. Her whispers in a sleeping man’s ear could cause a massacre of hundreds of people. Her gaze could make any man bloodthirsty – literally.
Re shivered at the thought of the woman wild among the non-magicals he’d learned to love. For all their mistakes, tragedies, and naivety, he still loved them.
“No, Osiris. I can’t do that.”
Hathor placed a cool hand on Re’s burning forearm. “Re, it’s the only thing you can do. Sekhmet will not only kill instigators but also provide a warning for the generations to come. It’s the only effective way.”
Re stared at Hathor and Osiris, his most trusted friends and advisors. He saw their sincerity and their remorse for what needed to be done. Re knew this was what it would come down to, but he still wasn’t ready to face it.
“Fine,” he sighed. “Osiris, prepare for the entries into the realm of the dead. Hathor, tell Sekhmet the targets are in the Siwa Oasis.”
As the gods departed, Re felt the burden on his shoulders get heavier. He knew he was doing the right thing. But why did he feel like he’d just signed a death warrant?
This story does not comply with Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. However, it does support ideas used in the entire Harry Potter series.
After rereading my story, I realize that I haven't clarified the situation under which these events are happening. So I will do so in my next chapter, I promise, which is already in the works. Again, sorry for the long delay!
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.