Chapter 55.5- Doom Days

Contrary to what I had thought the first time I had seen her, she was a burgeoning Mistress of Transfiguration. And she did it all with a staff. A unique staff, far more beautiful than the lumps of wood I’d used in the tournament.

This one was covered in gold— covered because I doubted she would be lifting solid gold with such ease, and had a ruby at the crown were it widened like a snake’s head.

“Do you know who I am, Harry Potter?” She asked, and her voice had a musical tilt to it. She was speaking English but with an accent so thick that it made it sound like a different language. A beautiful one, somehow.

“Nadir El-Masri” I read out, no doubt butchering her name from the way she instantly scoffed.

“And do you know what the name El-Masri means? What legacy I carry?” I shrugged. How would I know that?

“Of course a European would be ignorant. I am the descendant of the longest unbroken line of pharoahs.”

“There are no more pharaohs” I said, and I remembered that much, at least. The Romans had forced the magical leaders of Egypt into hiding and forced them to abdicate at wand point.

“For now” She said, voice sounding intent.

“Is there a reason you’re telling me this?” I asked, wanting to get things started. I’d barely managed to afar hours of sleep last night between Sirius’ enthusiastic celebrations of ‘my victories’. The manwhore just needed an excuse to get laid.

“To let you know that you are not the only one burdened with glorious purpose here. When you are defeated, have no shame. My family has been defeating wizards such as you for millennia.”

“Sweetheart” I said and then paused for effect before I said “there are no wizards like me”

She scowled, taping her staff against the ground. The ruby glowed. The platform flowed like water, forming a rhino that charged straight at me, A single piercing curse right between the eyes and the creature slumped and began to slide forward. I stood still, using a small apllication of main to slow it down so it came to a stop right before my feet. I leaned forward, placing my foot atop its skull and looking down at it like a hunter appreciating their kill.

“Is that the best you can do, Sweetheart?” I asked, and then made certain to yawn in my hands. Her scowl was a thing of beauty . Still, it was with a delicate flick of her wrist that she tapped the butt of her staff on the ground again.