Hogwarts: The Wizard’s Rebirth

The sun dipped beneath the horizon as Elias stepped into his private suite at the magical hotel in Cairo. The scent of aged papyrus and warm desert sand still clung faintly to his robes. The room, lined with polished sandstone walls and enchanted lanterns that flickered gently with ambient light, was silent.

But not secure enough.

Elias removed his outer robes and drew his wand in a swift, precise motion. He walked around the perimeter of the suite, murmuring under his breath.

"Protego Maxima. Muffliato. Salvio Hexia."

Thin, shimmering waves of magic spun from the tip of his wand, crawling up the walls and sealing every corner in an invisible barrier. The room pulsed once, then dimmed into magical silence. The layers of defensive enchantments were strong—but he wanted more.

He turned toward the corner where his two house-elves, cloaked under invisibility, stood at attention.

"Cast a layered ward," he ordered softly. "Make the entire room magically soundproof and undetectable. No scrying, no listening, no magical peeking—nothing."

The elder of the two elves, Winks, raised his thin hand. With a few quick movements and a sharp incantation in an ancient tongue, the magic settled into place. The room dimmed slightly, then steadied.

No one would know what was happening here now.

Elias took a deep breath, then moved to the center of the room, pulling his satchel onto the low table before him. From inside, cushioned in protective fabric and secured under multiple spells, he withdrew the ancient book retrieved from the hidden chamber beneath the pyramid.

It felt heavier now, like it had absorbed some of the energy from that forgotten vault. Or perhaps it had simply awakened.

He set it on the table and stared at it. A book with no title, no visible writing, and no outward clues. When he'd first tried to read it, the pages had been completely blank.

But Elias had prepared for this. Among the many things he had studied were obscure historical texts detailing ancient magical items—some of which were designed to only reveal themselves to chosen wielders or through rituals of identification.

He pulled out a small dagger, its blade enchanted to remain ever sharp. With a single, swift motion, he pricked the tip of his finger. A droplet of crimson blood welled up. He leaned forward and let it fall upon the center of the book's cover.

The moment the blood touched the surface, it was absorbed in an instant.

Elias blinked.

A tremor ran through the table. The cover of the book pulsed once with warmth—and then a radiant golden light erupted from its surface. Not blinding, but clear and vivid, illuminating the entire room with ancient energy.

The light pulsed for a few seconds, then slowly faded, leaving behind new lines of golden script inscribed across the once-blank cover.

"The Book of Gods."

His breath caught for a second. That name alone hinted at power—ancient, raw, and most likely dangerous. He turned the cover slowly, and this time the pages were no longer blank.

Words, diagrams, runes, and illustrations filled the parchment with elegant script and mystical ink.

He began to read.

The first few pages introduced the origins of the book—compiled by high priests and powerful sorcerers during the apex of magical culture in Ancient Egypt. Those who wielded the spells within this book were revered as demigods by the people. Not because of birth, but because of the power they demonstrated. Through control over nature—summoning thunderstorms, causing rains, calling down lightning, and shaping the very winds and sand—they had become objects of worship.

Elias's eyes moved faster.

Later chapters outlined far more dangerous concepts: ancient soul-based magic, forbidden rituals, and traces of dark arts refined to a frightening degree. There were rites to temporarily amplify magical power, and sacrificial magic with horrifying results—though the book did not push moral narratives. It simply presented what was, in meticulous detail.

He paused at a section labeled:

"Ritual of the Burning Veil: To tap the primordial essence of one's magic at the cost of…"

He flipped past it for now.

He wouldn't practice anything from this book without intense study and preparation. Some of these spells—if not executed with perfect precision—could very well destroy the caster.

Still, this wasn't just knowledge. This was legacy. This was a power that had once ruled entire cities.

And now it was in his hands.

Elias closed the book gently, sealing it with a silent locking charm. He sat back, his mind buzzing with the weight of what he had discovered.

There was much to study, and he wasn't going to do it here in Egypt, where the magical ministries held tight surveillance over anything unusual.

He would take it back home.

Let his family's wards protect him while he dissected these pages. And he would take his time—no need to rush. This wasn't for some quick advantage. This was about understanding the foundations of a different era of magic.

A knock suddenly echoed faintly at the outer room's door, muffled by the protective layers.

Winks blinked in Elias's direction. "Master, it is only the timekeeper bell—reminding of curfew for magical guests," the elf said respectfully.

Elias nodded. "Very well."

He stood, stretching slightly, then looked down at the book once more.

Two days remained before he was scheduled to return home via Portkey. That was enough time to rest, prepare, and leave without raising suspicion.

He glanced out the window, the stars glittering above the desert like fragments of ancient power scattered across the sky.

The late afternoon sun bathed Cairo in a golden glow as Elias leaned against the cool stone balcony of his hotel suite. The desert breeze carried the faintest whispers of sand and spice, and far in the distance, the Pyramids stood like silent sentinels, watching over the city as they had for millennia.

Elias's eyes were not on the horizon, however. They were focused on the ancient book lying securely within a locked chest on the low table inside—The Book of Gods.

He hadn't opened it again.

Not because of fear, but because he realized something crucial: he simply wasn't ready.

Though the golden glow of the book had awoken secrets thought long buried, and though he could now see the text—his understanding of it was limited. He only recognized fragments of the ancient script, the result of his light studies into older magical cultures. Most of the advanced sections might as well have been written in riddles to him.

He had learned enough, however, to grasp the potential of the spells within. And that made his next step very clear.

"Before I unlock its true power… I need to learn how to read it."

He wasn't foolish enough to try experimenting with spells he could barely interpret. This was no common grimoire or textbook. Mispronouncing even a single glyph could easily backfire in devastating ways. This book contained knowledge from an era where magic wasn't bound by the modern Ministry's rules, where wizards carved thunderstorms into the sky and walked as gods among men.

"I'll study the ancient language seriously next year. Quietly, thoroughly… before I touch this book again," Elias thought, watching the sun sink lower into the Cairo skyline.

Until then, the book would return to the safest place he knew—his family's ancestral vault, sealed behind wards even the goblins respected.

With that decided, Elias allowed himself a rare moment of calm. His trip to Egypt was nearly at an end. In two days, he would return to Britain. But before that, there were traditions to uphold.

He turned from the balcony and summoned Winks, his elder house-elf. "We're going shopping," he said simply.

The magical and Muggle markets of Cairo were vibrant with life—rows of colorful tents, street performers with trained cobras, floating charms displaying dancing scarves, and the smell of roasted meat and sweet dates wafting through the air. The hidden magical district, tucked behind a shimmering illusion near the Khan el-Khalili market, pulsed with even more wonders: animated statues of Anubis, shimmering vials of desert mirage essence, and enchanted relics crafted by desert-bound spellcasters.

Elias took his time.

He bought a delicate scarab-shaped brooch for his mother, woven with strands of enchanted gold that shifted colors with the light. For his father, he selected a hand-carved wand sheath inscribed with protective runes once used by the Pharaoh's guards.

He also chose a handful of small magical trinkets for extended family and a few neutral friends—nothing overtly powerful, just items of cultural and aesthetic value. The sort of gifts that said: I went somewhere meaningful, and I thought of you.

It was nearing sunset on the final day when Elias decided to take a quieter walk through the street vendors scattered along the outer edge of the magical district. Here, the enchantments were lighter, the goods more common—but there was always a chance of finding something rare mixed in.

That's when he felt it.

A flicker.

Not a presence exactly, but a breath. A magical signature so subtle and unique that it made the hairs on his neck stand up.

He turned sharply, narrowing his eyes.

There—across the row of vendors—was a small, inconspicuous stall draped in tattered blue cloth. The vendor, a thin man with weathered skin and a slight stoop, sat quietly beside a rickety table piled with trinkets: old coins, dusty bracelets, polished stones, and pendants of all shapes.

But it was one pendant in particular that caught Elias's gaze.

A blue amulet, shaped like a tear, nestled between two cracked glass vials. At first glance, it looked unimpressive—just a simple charm, its hue faded from time.

But Elias's magic stirred inside him.

He could feel the breath of the book. Not the same as the book's aura, but something intimately connected to it. Like the whisper of a sibling's magic. And then his memory clicked.

He had seen this amulet before—in a single illustration, etched beside a paragraph in the Book of Gods. He hadn't been able to read the passage clearly… but he remembered the shape. The runes. The blue glow.

What was it doing here, sold so casually on a dusty table?

He didn't move hastily. Caution was second nature to him.

Instead, Elias wandered toward the stall leisurely, allowing his eyes to pass over several items as though merely browsing. He picked up a sand-polished ring, examined an obsidian dagger with a broken tip, and asked the vendor about a piece of jewelry shaped like a falcon.

All while his eyes kept drifting back to the pendant.

When he finally pointed to it, his voice was calm. "How much for this one?"

The vendor squinted at it. "That? Old trinket. Found by my uncle when digging near the old ruins. Five sickles."

Elias raised a brow. Five sickles. That was barely the price of a common bookmark in Diagon Alley. Either the man had no idea what he possessed—or it truly was just a very good replica.

"I'll take this… and the dagger," Elias replied smoothly, placing more than enough coins on the table.

The vendor nodded gratefully and wrapped both in parchment. Elias accepted the bundle and gave a curt nod before continuing down the street.

He didn't stop walking until he'd returned to the magical district's protective boundaries.

There, under the veil of shielding charms, he handed the wrapped items to Winks. "Have the amulet scanned thoroughly. In layers. Quietly. Do not break it, do not test it recklessly."

Winks nodded with utmost seriousness.

As they returned to the hotel under the cooling desert dusk, Elias felt something stir in his chest.

The book… the amulet… they were pieces of a larger puzzle. He didn't know the full picture yet, but he had a growing sense that this trip had awakened a thread of fate buried for thousands of years.

And now, it was attached to him.