Hogwarts Raven

Chapter 346, Section 345: The Pharaoh's Tomb
Ancient Egyptian cities were very lively.

The vendors loudly hawked their spices, pottery, amulets, and sculptures of deities.

Children ran and played among the crowd, and in the distance, the priests chanted hymns, as if the whole city was immersed in a mysterious and solemn atmosphere.

"Those sacred objects are powerful alchemical tools, things that wizards can never create," the one-eyed old man explained to Ian with a voice tinged with envy.

He is a wizard.

There is no doubt about this.

In an era when gods were active, only wizards could have any connection with temples. After all, there was no equality among all beings in feudal times; only wizards were qualified to become priests serving the gods, and these priests would only associate with other wizards. The class distinctions among Muggles were even more pronounced in the supernatural world.

"A test?" Ian raised an eyebrow. "What kind of test?"

The old man looked around for a moment before speaking, his tone tinged with reverence: "Gods, they love to test mortals. Ra, Anubis, Set, Isis... each god has their own way. They will appear before you disguised as travelers, priests, or even animals, and present you with a riddle or a trial. If you can complete it, you will gain their approval; if you fail... you will either lose everything or disappear forever."

As he spoke, a strange light flashed in his eyes, as if he himself had personally experienced these legends.

"Do you think they're just cold-blooded gods? No, they enjoy manipulating fate and watching mortals struggle for survival. They're like... the protagonists in a story, and we mortals are just actors in their script." The one-eyed old man certainly seemed to have a legendary past.

His words were filled with the flavor of his own past. Ian remained noncommittal about this, saying that all this talk of trials was essentially just a show for the gods.

He knew very well that the one-eyed old man was right; the so-called test was actually the gods using mortal heroes as their entertainment in an era before television dramas.

"Heroes are merely actors in the eyes of the gods."

Ian offered his comments.

The old man was taken aback, then frowned: "What did you say?"

He clearly couldn't understand Ian's choice of words. Although Ian had learned the language beforehand using Legilimency, his way of speaking was still very different from the locals.

The main difference lies in the combination of sentences.

“It’s nothing.” Ian waved his hand, expressing a thought that had been on his mind: “I just think the gods in your place are pretty boring.”

His words lacked respect.

Upon hearing this, the air seemed to freeze for a few seconds.

The old man's face turned serious. He grabbed Ian's wrist and said sternly, "Young man, do not blaspheme the gods on this land. Do you think this is just a legend? Do you think these gods are asleep? No, they are still alive, deep in the pyramids, at the bottom of the Nile, in every sunlit stone. They are watching us."

These words do indeed have a strong flavor of ancient feudal superstition, but Ian has already come into contact with gods many times and knows that gods do not actually have omniscience and omnipotence.

They don't watch over every corner of the human world all the time. Of course, if you mention the specific name of a god, that god might still sense it.

but.

It didn't matter to Ian. Ian didn't pull his hand away, but just looked at him calmly, without a trace of fear in his eyes. The difference in their levels was too great.

“I know they might be watching me,” he said, “but I also know they won’t show themselves easily. Unless… I touch something they care about.”

This is understandable; Ian's arrival is bound to attract some attention. After all, legendary wizards are like fireflies in the wizarding community, easily spotted with just a glance.

"Hey! Daring young man."

The old man stared at Ian for a long time, then finally sighed and let go of his hand.

“You are not an ordinary person,” he said, “but I hope you understand one thing—in this land, words carry weight. Especially when it comes to the evaluation of God.”

Ian nodded.

That's a response.

He turned and left the stall.

In the end, he didn't buy the amulet, which wasn't particularly well-made. Perhaps there was knowledge Ian could learn in this era, but he simply continued to wander around the city.

I couldn't find any interesting sorcerer stalls. Ancient Egyptian cities weren't as orderly as modern metropolises, but they were full of life and order. Neatly arranged shops and workshops lined the streets, where artisans were carving idols and making pottery, while women selected fresh fruits and vegetables in the market.

On the riverbank, slaves were carrying huge stones, preparing to transport them to the pyramid construction site. Further away, several pyramids stood majestically, like silent giants.

Looking down over this land.

“It’s really hot here.” Ian walked past a temple and saw a group of priests in white robes performing a ceremony. They held long staffs and chanted ancient incantations as they danced around a huge statue. The statue looked majestic and unfamiliar, seemingly a deity not yet widely known to later generations.

Ian wasn't very interested in these mystical things; he was looking for places where wizards gathered, and sure enough, every city had a place like the Leaky Cauldron where wizards congregated.

And what a coincidence!

Almost all of them were taverns.

The customs of this kind of gathering place are probably still in place from ancient times.

At noon, Ian walked into a riverside tavern. The mud-brick walls were painted with murals depicting harvest dances, and in a corner, several foreign merchants were gambling with dice.

The air was filled with the aroma of beer and some unknown spice. He ordered a glass of palm wine and sat by the window, observing the street scene. After a while, two dancers dressed in semi-transparent linen robes approached him.

“Handsome foreigner~” one of the girls, wearing a gold nose ring, twirled the end of her hair with her finger. “Would you like to hear a song? It’ll only cost a copper coin.”

Ian smiled and flicked a silver coin at her: "I'd rather hear...something special. Like, about your gods."

The dancers exchanged glances, and the girl with the gold nose ring lowered her voice: "Which god do you want to inquire about? If it's a hymn to Amun, we dare not sing it carelessly—the temple has eyes and ears everywhere."

“Then let’s talk about something less ‘mainstream’,” Ian said, swirling his glass. “Like, Seth?”

Both dancers shivered simultaneously.

"Shh!" Another dancer with blue eyeliner nervously glanced around. "You can't just mention the name of the Storm God! Especially lately..."

"recent?"

The girl with the gold nose ring leaned close to Ian's ear, her breath sweet with the scent of wine: "On the night of the full moon last month, someone saw the shadow of a huge jackal in the western desert, along with thunderstorms... Everyone says that Seth is coming back."

Ian narrowed his eyes. Set—the Egyptian god of chaos, the murderer of Osiris, an exile banished to the desert by Horus. If this god was indeed active, it was intelligence worth paying attention to. Just as he was about to press further, the tavern door was suddenly flung open!

"Boom!"

Three priests, their heads shaved and dressed in white robes, strode in, the golden serpent ornaments on their foreheads gleaming in the sunlight. The lead priest carried a scepter topped with a scarab beetle.

His gaze swept across the entire room like that of a hawk.

"In the name of Amun-Ra!" he raised his scepter high, "Last night, a blasphemer broke into the Karnak Temple and stole offerings from the altar! A reward of ten taels will be given to anyone who provides information leading to his arrest!"

The tavern erupted in commotion. Ian noticed that the two dancers had huddled in a corner, their faces pale, while the one-eyed amulet vendor had somehow slipped out the back door.

Even more striking was the fact that the scarab beetle on the priest's scepter was glowing, and growing brighter and brighter.

"found it!"

The priest suddenly turned towards Ian, and the scarab beetle burst forth with dazzling golden light.

"The blasphemer is here—" It was clear that the local gods had taken notice of Ian and were trying to use the believers to drive him away, which was why they had put on this seemingly absurd show.

Ian sighed.

He snapped his fingers the moment the scarab locked onto him.

Snapped!
The scarab's light suddenly went out.

All the lights in the tavern went out for a moment at the same time. When the lights came back on, the priests stood there blankly, while Ian's seat was empty.

in situ.

There was only half a glass of unfinished palm wine left.

"What, what's going on?"

The priest with the staff shook the scarab beetle vigorously.

"Just now..." He looked dazed, unable to recall anything that had happened. Clearly, the young wizard had erased the memories of everyone present before leaving.

This was not a difficult task for the legendary wizard.

When the setting sun dyes the pyramids blood red.

Ian was already standing atop an abandoned granary in the western part of the city, gazing at the lights of the local temple.

"I've already been given the order to leave, but I still need to find my mission target." Ian wasn't annoyed by the gods' attitude; after all, the activities of legendary wizards were indeed easy to get on their nerves.

To know.

The reason why legendary wizards are legendary is that even the weaker ones among them are powerful enough to overwhelm all other wizards.

The most outstanding figures in these legends could even threaten the lives of the gods. Given this context, the emergence of mysterious legends naturally displeased the local deities of ancient Egypt.

“The fragments of Ra’s Eye… are most likely located deep within the temple.” He stroked the temple layout map he had swiped from the bartender. “As for the Styx Oar, we’ll probably have to try our luck at the Temple of Osiris in Abydos.”

As for the Pharaoh's curse gold leaf?
He glanced at the money pouch at his waist—containing intelligence "borrowed" from a black market merchant: the latest batch of stolen pharaoh's tomb funerary objects were circulating in the Theban underground black market.

Although it was only a peripheral gain, it shows that there are places where tomb raiding is possible.

"Whether they are alien gods or extraordinary beings..." Ian chuckled softly, his figure gradually disappearing into the twilight. "Tomorrow I'll go and experience the local customs and culture of your place."

The night wind blew across the Nile, bringing with it the howls of hyenas from afar, carrying sand that lashed against the desert outside Thebes. Ian also set out overnight, using the information he had gathered from his memories to begin his journey.

This was a long process, lasting a full eight or nine hours. Keep in mind, Ian, in his raven form, could fly very fast, but the desert environment made it difficult to discern his surroundings.

of course.

Fortunately, Ian finally found his destination—standing on a sand dune, gazing at the faint outline of the pyramids in the distance. The tomb of Ramses III shone with an eerie bluish-white hue under the moonlight.

It resembled a lurking giant beast.

According to intelligence from black market dealers, a batch of stolen pharaoh's burial goods has recently been circulating on the underground market, and the most precious of them is a "cursed gold leaf" engraved with hieroglyphic incantations.

Unfortunately, by the time the black market merchants tried to find the tomb-robbing gang, they had already been executed by the temple guards three days earlier, and the gold leaf had been resealed back into the pyramid.

“I am now Ian of the Nine Gates.” Ian sighed, his fingertips gently tracing the temple map he had taken from the tavern, which marked the structure of the Unas Pyramid.

Outside the pyramids, a squad of heavily armed guards patrolled along the stone walls. They carried bronze spears, wore scarab amulets at their waists, and scanned their surroundings warily.

Legend has it that the pharaoh's tomb is protected by the divine power of Anubis, and any blasphemer will be attacked by "ghouls"—tomb raiders who are cursed and devoured, transformed into half-human, half-jackal monsters, forever lingering around the tomb's perimeter. It sounds terrifying and mysterious, but Ian has no interest in getting entangled with the guards.

"It's just the result of biological transformation."

Everything has a reasonable wizarding explanation in Ian's mind.

He snapped his fingers lightly, and his figure gradually blurred, turning into a thin wisp of gray mist that silently drifted past the guards' sight, gliding along the sand towards the entrance of the pyramid.

At the entrance to the pyramid, a massive stone covered in hieroglyphs tightly blocked the passage. Ian pulled out a Greek "deconstruction rune" from his pocket, and just as he was about to cast a spell, he suddenly frowned.

“Wait.” His silver-gray right eye spotted fine scratches on the stone wall. “This is… a trapdoor?”

As you gently trace the hieroglyphs in a specific area with your finger, the entire boulder suddenly and silently slides inward. But even more eerie, the walls inside the passage are slowly shifting, and the stones are constantly changing position as if they were alive.

"The Maze Spell."

Ian whistled.

"It seems this pharaoh has invited a high priest, or rather, a high-ranking wizard, to cast a spell." He took out a "deconstruction rune" from Greece from his purse and gently pressed it into the crack between the rocks. The rune glowed with a ghostly blue light, and the molecular structure inside the rock began to disintegrate. A few seconds later, the sealing stone turned into fine sand and slid down in a soft rustling sound.

Different civilizations give rise to different achievements.

Sometimes, the magical artifacts of one civilization are remarkably effective in another. As soon as Ian stepped into the pyramid, the entrance behind him automatically regenerated large stones and closed itself off.

It was as if an invisible hand was controlling this tomb.

"what is that?"

Ahead of him was a narrow passageway, the walls of which were covered with hieroglyphics. Every ten steps there was a bronze oil lamp, its wick burning itself without a flame and emitting a faint green light.

"There are indeed many traps."

Ian narrowed his eyes, the eyes of a legendary being piercing through the darkness to see something imperceptible to ordinary people—countless fine golden threads floating in the air.

It covered the entire passage like a spider web.

"A cursed thread that kills upon contact?"

He sighed.

"The pharaohs' imagination really hasn't changed in a thousand years."

Ian knew that ancient Egyptian sorcerers were experts in casting curses. With a flick of his finger, a wisp of silver-gray magic swept across like a blade, instantly severing all the golden threads and causing them to vanish without a trace.

of course.

The crisis is not completely over.

Passing through the corridor, Ian arrived at a square tomb chamber. In the center of the floor was a turquoise-inlaid coffin, and the walls were covered with a dense array of holes that sent chills down one's spine.

inside.

They were all scarabs.

"nice one!"

This is Potions Master Ian coming online.

(End of this chapter)