A surge of magic.

A brief flash of blinding light.

A smooth, young voice.

“Tell me...”

A pause, an unnatural stillness hanging in the air.

Then...

“Are you my master?”

-x-X-x- Day One -x-X-x-

Staring at the various books spread on the table – seven in all – he had trouble coming to terms with what he was seeing, but knew there was no denying it.

It was a strange feeling, he had decided quickly, knowing that you were nothing but the figment of someone else’s considerable imagination. That all his memories – of family and friends, of life – were essentially fake. That everything he fought for – fought against – was also nothing but a lie; that it never actually happened. Just a grand tale spun and weaved into words, with no basis in truth, published here in these books for the world to see.

He shifted uncomfortably, hands running across the smooth fabric of his wizarding robe, hand pausing over his heart as he felt the methodical beat pound beneath his skin.

And how did he know that this wasn’t just some elaborate illusion? Some spell or potion used to ensnare his senses? To make him think these things, these unnerving, unsettling, upsetting notions?

He just did.

Just like he knew that he was in Japan, a place called Fuyuki City, even though he was told no such thing.

Just like he knew there was something called the Holy Grail Wars and that he had been summoned to take part in the coming skirmish, a battle to the death with six others who were summoned for the same purpose as he.

Just like he knew of the various rules that every Servant – and their Masters – must adhere too, even without being told of such matters.

Just like he knew that if you were the last one standing, when all other Servants and Masters had been defeated, you were granted your deepest desire by the grail upon its completion.

He just knew.

Strange it might be, but it’s something he could accept without much difficulty.

But regardless of that acceptance, these books...

They were his life in ink.

Opening the first, he scanned the pages, ignoring the fact that he could understand it all even when written in Japanese. Reading about his life was mind boggling to say the least, but reading about his life in a fictional book was something else entirely. Skipping a few pages, he smiled slightly as he read about his unpleasant childhood, the words forming distinct images in his head. He could see Uncle Vernon clearly, with his large neck and bristling moustache. Aunt Petunia was next, with her upturned nose and horse-like features. And Dudley, the pig-in-a-wig that liked to beat up on his younger cousin.

He could make out number four, Privet Drive perfectly; the lounge and its assorted furniture, the immaculate kitchen that he had been forced to clean almost every single day, the upstairs bedrooms he rarely visited and the small, cramped – but well kept – bathroom.

The cupboard under the stairs...

“Still adjusting, hm?” a soft, feminine voice called.

He ignored it and continued his trip down memory lane, if it could even be called that. His Hogwarts letter, the hut on the rock, Hagrid arriving on his birthday and revealing to him a whole other world, a world he had only ever seen in his wildest dreams...

An irritated sigh broke his chain of thought for second, before it continued.

Diagon Alley, the goblins of Gringotts, meeting that little snot of a pureblood for the first time at Madam Malkin’s...

“I don’t appreciate being ignored, Servant.”

Turning, he gazed at her with a neutral expression, eyes gliding over her form lazily. She was a small woman, but not exceedingly so, the top of her head just reaching under the height of his chin. Her body was clad in an elaborate robe with various layers, a cloak of purple with golden trim resting atop one of green with a similar design, brought together by a brooch resting in the centre of her chest, also the colour of gold. Under these layers another sheet of purple hugged her body tight like that of a dress, flowing all the way to the ground. Her face was almost completely covered by a green hood with a strange golden ornament, the smooth skin of her soft jaw and firmly pressed lips the only details he could catch a glimpse of.

“Sorry,” he offered, though he didn’t sound it. He got the feeling she was burning a hole into his chest with her eyes, but ignored it, “Just... reminiscing.”

She obviously found what he said hilarious, if the laughter was anything to go by.

“What’s so funny?”

As her laughter died down, she answered. “You aren’t real, boy. What could you be possibly reminiscing about? False memories? Perhaps I chose poorly, if you are going to be this much of an idiot.”

He frowned lightly but didn’t comment, waiting for his instructions. There was no other reason she would seek him out.

He wasn’t disappointed.

“I want you to search the city and gather as much information as you can about the other servants and their masters,” here she paused, thinking something over before continuing. “Do not reveal yourself no matter what, understand?”

“Sure,”

Holding out her hand, a small globe of energy formed, violet in colour. It hovered above her palm, swirling languidly, before it shot towards him within the blink of an eye. He felt a slight buzzing sensation as it passed through his chest, a large spike of energy flowing through his veins a few moments later. He couldn’t help but gasp softly at the feeling, his entire being trembling with barely restrained power.

“This should allow you to stay outside the temple grounds for the day. Unfortunately, your summoning needed a bit of improvisation.”

She watched silently as he recovered from the brief surge in energy he received.

“Do not disappoint me, Servant. I don’t take failure lightly.”

And with that, she left, the door sliding shut with a soft click. Sighing quietly, he briefly gazed back down at the books before moving towards a separate door. Pausing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a well polished, slender piece of wood. Tapping the end on his chest, his plain black robes become a simple pair of jeans and a green shirt within seconds, his footwear turning into well worn sneakers. Pocketing the wand, he exited the room, following a narrow hallway until he came upon the outside world. He had to squint for a few moments, eyes adjusting to the bright sun before he started his trek towards the large archway at the other side of the courtyard. His gaze roamed constantly, taking in the impressive size of the temple and the various monks who gave him strange, curious looks, probably unused to seeing a foreigner around these parts so early in the morning.

Reaching the stairs, he descended them quickly even if they were absurdly long – they were nothing compared to Hogwarts, after all – a slight smile on his face. He felt a small tug, a minor drain on his energy as he reached the end, a constant buzz coming from within, but ignored it. He knew what it was and was expected. His summoning had been different, unique. And like his master had told him, required a bit of improvisation. While she held his command spells, the land itself was his anchor, from what he understood of such things.

It didn’t take long for him to approach the town proper even with his relaxed, carefree pace. The outer reaches of the town had been decidedly rural, with few houses but large amounts of luscious land, various livestock and crops littering the landscape. The closer he came to the high-rise building in the distance, the more houses and less open land appeared. While it was not cluttered like he was sure the inner part of the city would resemble, it was a vast difference from where he’d begun.

He was in no rush to be anywhere in particular, unlike the various students he saw moving in direction he had just come from, their strides almost panicked as they hurried towards their destination, obviously cutting it close. He wondered for a moment if he should start there, but disregarded that thought quickly, his calm stride never hesitating. While he was sure he could move around the school grounds undetected and unmolested, it was much easier to just wander aimlessly.

However, aimless wandering had his mind abuzz.

Mostly about his past and the coming war that was bound to shake the foundations of this community, in more ways than one.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about the whole thing, if he was to be perfectly honest with himself. Like always, it seemed these situations were thrust upon him without consent. He had never been much of a fighter, not really. Short tempered as he was and brief bouts of rage-fuelled cruelty aside – Bellatrix Lestrange at the Department of Mysteries flashed before his minds eye, followed by Draco Malfoy’s chest cleaved open by one of his spells – conflict wasn’t something he sought very often. Most of the time, nearly all of the time, he had been trying to merely survive.

That was when he was truly in his element.

Sidestepping an old woman fluidly, his thoughts returned to his false past and his interrupted self reflection from earlier this morning.

“Hermione,” he whispered. “Ron.”

They weren’t real. Never had been. Never would be.

Ginny. James. Albus-Severus. Lily-Luna.

His family were nothing but words on pages. Looking down at his youthful hands, the memories of his later years felt the most out of place, the most foreign to him. He looked and felt seventeen, maybe eighteen, long before they were even a vague possibility, yet he remembered them.

Dumbledore.

“After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.”

Snorting to himself in amusement, he couldn’t help but think fondly of his old Headmaster and mentor. If only the old man had truly known how literal his words were.

Voldemort.

He couldn’t help but rub the scar that marred his forehead, wincing at the faint throb it gave in response to his thoughts about that man.

Now that was downright worrying, his eyes narrowing slightly at the familiar, horrifying sensation. He wasn’t sure if the slight burning that followed was his imagination or something decidedly more sinister in nature.

After a small while, he came to an intersection, forcing him to wait until the lights signalled it was safe to cross. The further he went, the more traffic he encountered – human and motorized – to the point where the streets started becoming quite crowded, but not uncomfortably so. Gazing around with interest and with the intention of distracting himself, he took in the sights of this normal – if a little different to his own – society. He found himself liking what he saw.

Continuing onward, he was able to make out a large red bridge that carried traffic into the heart of the city in the distance, a small but busy café on the corner closest to the massive structure. Nodding to himself, he strode into the establishment a few moments later, weaving his way effortlessly through the patrons, until he came upon an unused table near the back. Seating himself, he idly glanced through the menu, understanding but not comprehending some of the dishes offered but not really caring. In the end, he ordered a pot of tea and unknowingly impressed the waitress with his fluent grasp of her language – or what she thought was her language.

To him, he had been speaking English.

Sipping at his tea quietly, he hummed his approval. Not quite perfect, but good enough. He wasn’t particularly fussy, anyway.

Placing the half empty cup down, he took a deep breath before closing his eyes, folding his hands in his lap. Leaning back, he felt his body becoming relaxed, loosening until he moulded against the contours of the chair. Breathing evenly, he focused all his attention on his mana, the chatter surrounding him becoming nothing but a dull murmur. Grasping a hold of his magic, he expanded it as far as he could without releasing it, all his senses falling away until he felt nothing but the calming energy within his body, flowing through his being. Pushing with all his might, he felt his magic brush against everyone in the store before continuing unabated, travelling through physical objects like they didn’t exist.

It was slow going, the field of energy expanding at a walkers pace. It didn’t help that his sense of time was also shot to hell when in this state.

A strange, pulsing sensation ran through him as he felt his sixth sense brush against that of a magus a few minutes – hours? – later, telling him they were several blocks away, roughly north-east from his position. Another shortly followed, located across the river and amongst the tall buildings he was to visit shortly. A distinct feeling overcome him, a small jolt of pain – or maybe pleasure? It was hard to tell, being so intense - arching up his spine and pooling rather uncomfortably in the back of his head.

It was no magus.

It was definitely another Servant.

He thought he could feel another when his concentration was broken.

Startled, he tensed at the feeling of a soft hand on his shoulder shaking him lightly. He was about to speak when dizziness set in, his magic snapping back into his body like a rubber band. Swaying slightly, he pinched the bridge of his nose – glasses nearly tumbling from his face – and resisted the urge to throw up, trying to steady himself with his other hand against the flat top of the table.

“Are you alright, sir?” the waitress asked, removing her hand. She sounded concerned.

He managed a weak grin as he turned his head towards her, eyes open, “Fine. Just tired.”

Her pretty face relaxed, but he could tell she was still worried. Perhaps he had been out a little too long. It was difficult to judge how much time had really passed.

“Did I fall asleep?”

“Uh-Um. Yes, sir.”

She flushed, embarrassed for a reason he couldn’t fathom. Smiling kindly, he reached into his pocket and worked a bit of magic, pulling out a few notes that until a few seconds ago never existed. Handing them to the surprised girl, he returned to his now cold tea.

“Sorry about that. It won’t happen again.”

“Ah,” she bit her lip in a cute fashion. “It was no trouble at all.”

He watched as she returned to work, downing the cold drink and pouring himself another. The pot had kept it warm, at least.

Checking the clock, he noticed it was close to nine. Humming to himself, he paused, cup halfway to his mouth as he stared across the café. A young girl, no older than ten, was staring directly at him, a look of shocked awe on her wide-eyed face. Why she wasn’t at school was beyond him, but the look she was directing him was very strange, almost as if she recognized who he wa-

He felt like slapping himself.

“Of all the idiotic...” he muttered to himself, attempting to cover his obvious scar with his fringe. “I hope no one else noticed.”

Peering around the room, everyone else continued as normal. Sighing, he suddenly felt terrible. He had just strolled through town in full view of the public, scar on display. Had anyone else noticed his uncanny resemblance to the popular child wizard? His looks, he could get away with, but the scar made is difficult. Hopefully he wasn’t as well known here in Japan.

“H-Harry Potter?”

Yeah, right.

He nearly flinched at the soft voice, but was able to stop himself from doing so.

The little girl was now standing in front of him, gawking at him unabashedly, her raven hair tumbling down her back and well below her waist. Her pale cheeks were flushed with excitement, hazel eyes glimmering at him from under long lashes. She bent forward at the waist, staring into his eyes.

This was bad. He knew his Master would be furious if she were to find out.

“Uh,” he replied, mouth dry.

“Harry Potter?” she repeated, this time without the slight stutter.

“Uh, no. Sorry.”

She continued to stare, her face faltering slightly at his denial.

“But you look so much like him,” she breathed. “You even have the scar!”

Harry looked around quickly to make sure no one was paying attention. Her last sentence had been a little louder than the others.

“Sorry, I’m afraid you are mistaken,” he answered. She looked saddened and he felt terrible as her face dropped.

“Oh,” she said softly.

“You aren’t the first person to think so,” he added cheerfully, taking control of the situation. He really should get back to his mission, his Master wouldn’t be too happy if he wasted precious time on indulging some little girl.

But...

“Say, do you have a camera?”

-x-X-x-

Several photos and a piece of cake later, Harry was finally able to get away after the girls mother had pretty much dragged Hikari – which he had only found out was her name after the embarrassed parent had shouted it across the store – from his table, telling her that the nice man had better things to do than listen to her ramble on about what she and her friends got up too. While this was true, he hadn’t found the encounter unpleasant. Quite the opposite, in fact, but he really did need to get moving.

His Master would no longer be merely furious at his actions, but apoplectic.

Deciding to follow his original plan, he headed for the bridge, surprised at the lack of foot traffic he encountered while crossing the river. Looking around, he quickly decided that this was an ideal place to bring someone to just relax, yet he only passed a handful of people by the time he reached the other side, something he found strange. For such a beautiful place, it had an abandoned feel to it.

The longer he continued, the more people he came across until the sidewalk was completely packed, the tall buildings casting long shadows as the sun reached its peak in the sky. Moving with the crowd, he felt himself approaching the possible location of another Servant, the one he had discovered during his brief scan. Harry was certain he was close to where he had felt the heroic spirit; however he couldn’t feel a thing as he stopped at an intersection, the heavy traffic making it impossible to cross without a change of lights.

“They moved on, then,” he muttered, disappointed but not surprised. It was his fault, taking as long as he did.

Harry carried on, letting the flow of the foot traffic take him once more. Since leaving the café, he took more interest in the people around him instead of the scenery, keeping a lookout for the telltale signs of being recognized. He couldn’t afford to be careless with his identity in the presence of ordinary people, least he drag them into a war they had almost no hope of surviving. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself, if that happened.

Keeping his head slightly bowed and fringe down, he left the high rise buildings and crowded streets behind him. He travelled slowly, enjoying the slightly chilled weather more than the locals seemed too. He entered another suburban district before coming across a large park, a feeling of dread welling up in the pit of his stomach as he strolled through the mostly deserted grounds. Harry was beginning to suspect that there were many places like this, scattered around the city. Places where people felt uncomfortable being near so they avoided them at all costs, whether because of silly reasons or... something else.

Harry knew this was definitely in the ‘something else’ category.

Straying off the path, he knelt and placed a hand upon the scorched earth, fingers digging lightly into the dry soil. Several leafless trees creaked and groaned as a breeze rolled through, throwing dead leaves and loose foliage across the ground. Calming his breath, he felt with his magic the pain and suffering that took place here, and the incredible powers that caused such a thing to occur.

He knew at once that it involved the Holy Grail War in some way, though the specifics eluded him. It could have been a simple battle between powerful Servants or a purposeful sacrifice for greater power, something that happened all too often during the previous conflicts.

He couldn’t help the sliver of anger that burned bright in his gut at the thought.

Or it could have been something else entirely, something even worse.

He decided then and there that he would think no longer on the subject. It wouldn’t do him any good.

Harry continued to wander without much purpose for the rest of the day, stopping at random times to flare his senses in the hope of discovering another Servant, though nothing as wide reaching and as time consuming as the technique he’d used at the café. Unfortunately, he came across no one else, though he had gotten a strange feeling from a western-style church he had passed by, he didn’t believe it was magical in nature.

At least, it hadn’t felt magical.

Just odd.

As night quickly approached, he felt himself become heavier and heavier, the boost in mana from his Master being drained at a much more rapid pace as the sun set, the moon getting ready to take its rightful place in the clear sky. He paused briefly to admire the beautiful reflection upon the rivers calm surface as he left Shinto behind – oranges and reds and purples blending together to form an amazing sight – before continuing on his way. Taking an alternate route from the one he travelled in the morning, he moved through the eerily quiet, westernized streets like a wraith, his day clothes replaced within the blink of an eye by pitch black wizarding attire as night finally settled, his form blending into the newly encroached darkness.

Despite his overall failure, he was in a good mood. It had been a pleasant experience, taking in the sights of a culture totally different than what he had been brought up in, even with the strong western ties this city held. He hoped this wouldn’t be the last time he got to do so, but didn’t delude himself. Sightseeing didn’t win wars, after all.

Passing through the foreigner’s district, he weaved his way through the maze-like streets until he came upon the darkened silhouette of a school, its front gate strangely open. Inspecting the interior, he saw nothing but shadows beyond the walled perimeter. Turning to leave, he suddenly tensed, muscles pulled taut across his body as a flare of mana touched his senses.

“Ah,” he muttered. “Got ya.”

Wand appearing in hand, he gave it an elaborate twirl, a brief flash marking the arrival of an almost transparent cloak which wrapped itself around his body like a silk glove, his body and presence vanishing completely. Ignoring the sudden drain on his mana at his minor summoning and use of his invisibility cloak, he took off at a sprint, entering the school grounds. While he was a Caster class Servant, he was a Servant nonetheless, the speed of his run greater than that of an ordinary human. Within seconds, he had crossed the entrance courtyard of the school, his run taking him towards one of the buildings.

Muttering something in Latin he felt himself become weightless, the drain on his mana larger than he expected as he vaulted into the air like it was natural. Cloak and robe billowing in his wake, he soared through the air like a missile, another incantation cancelling the effect of his spell. Gravity taking hold, he descended rapidly towards the roof, landing hard but without a sound in a crouched position. Pausing, he heard the sound of clashing steel ring out, piercing the stillness of the night. It repeated itself several times in quick succession, a never ending song of battle.

Standing, Harry moved towards the edge of the building, hugging his cloak tight to his body as he felt the presence of two Servants. He became still as he looked out over the school grounds, eyes locked on the two combatants who were moving with incredible speed, sparks flying as their weapons clashed again and again in a deadly dance.

A tall, lithe man dressed in a blue armoured body suit charged, his short spiky hair and ponytail remaining practically motionless as he moved with amazing grace and agility. A crimson red lance struck out with such speed that it would have been nothing but a blur to a normal human being, to fast for their eyes to cope with. His opponent dodged, but only barely, bringing his weapons to the side to block the incoming follow-up attack; a jarring sweep that had him staggering slightly from the force of the blow. Twirling the lance with frightening ease, he continued his assault, keeping the shaft of his weapon tucked close to his body as he slashed diagonally from hip to shoulder.

The target was also a tall man with a similar build, his tan complexion a sharp contrast to his bright silver-white hair. Underneath a red long sleeve cloak, black armour hugged his physique tight, black leather pants and heavy, armoured boots continuing the trend. In each hand he wielded a short curved blade powerfully, their design identical aside from the colour, where they appeared to be complete opposites – yin and yang. He brought his swords together, grunting with effort as the lance struck.

“Lancer, then,” Harry identified the blue Servant, staring as the two short swords shattered from the next attack, leaving the red-and-black clad Servant weapon less. “But you are...?”

Lancer’s next attack came just as swiftly, a powerful thrust that Harry was positive would end the fight now that the other Servant had been unarmed and unbalanced. He was definitely surprised then, when the lance was battered aside in a shower of sparks, the previously shattered blades resting in the hands of their master once more, completely undamaged. Emerald eyes widened, Harry caught the low whistle he almost released in his surprise.  

Lancer continued, unmoved by the fact that the enemy had re-armed himself in seconds. Harry assumed it wasn’t the first time he had seen this ability at work.

The fight continued, with Lancer continually on offence while the other Servant did his best to just survive the onslaught, unable to counter-attack with his shorter weapons. Despite this, Harry could see Lancer starting to get frustrated with the way things were going, while his opponent remained as calm as he could under the circumstances. It was obvious why Lancer felt the way he did.

Like Harry, he had no idea what type of class he was fighting.

His first thought was Saber, being that he seemed to favour melee combat and wielded two short swords. Yet while he was exceptionally proficient with them, there was something off about the way he fought. He couldn’t quite place what it was, but for some reason he just didn’t seem to fit the Saber mould.

For obvious reasons, Caster and Lancer were ruled out.

Berserker was also quickly discarded. The man was way too calm and his fighting style didn’t mesh at all with that of a Berserker class warrior. There was no rage, no anger and too much restraint on his part. He embodied everything that a Berserker was not.

Rider was the next to cross his mind. A possibility, yet like with Saber it just didn’t seem right. Surely with the amount of trouble he was having, he’d have summoned his mount to battle to even the score a little, Harry reasoned. The class excelled at mounted combat and holding off in this situation was reckless, potentially fatal. Harry knew it was in a Servants best interest to hide their identity for as long as possible, but in situations like this...

Archer was briefly thought about, but the lack of bow was telling. Melee was not something an Archer would engage in unless left with no other option and while Lancer was agile enough to box an opponent in, Harry felt the unknown Servant could easily create space if needed.

“Could he be Assassin?” he mused, eyes narrowing.

While it was true that the Assassin class tended to avoid direct combat, it was entirely possible that he had tried and failed to finish off Lancer from the shadows, thus had been drawn out of hiding. Melee wasn’t their greatest attribute, but they weren’t completely useless at it either. They’d be able to hold their own in most situations, if only barely, until they could make their escape.

However, his Master had explained a few things after his summoning the day before, one of which was that the Assassin slot had been taken.

By him.

It was a result of his unnatural summoning. He was no Assassin, yet his Master had used the available slot to her benefit, bending the rules to her considerable will and might. It should be impossible for an Assassin to be summoned after such an act, yet this man fit the category better than the rest.

Harry sighed, looking on with interest as the fighting ceased and they began talking. He would think on it later, when he had more information. It was impossible for him to identify the man at this time, without seeing more of his abilities, of which were being expertly hidden.

The battle on hold for the moment, Harry tore his eyes away from the Servants for the first time since he come across them. It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for.

A Master.

She was pretty, exceedingly so. In spite of the darkness, her sharp attractive features caught his eye, his gaze devouring her petite but obvious curves. Black hair tumbled down her back in waves, two pig-tails held up by similarly coloured ribbons. Clad in a school uniform consisting of a long black skirt, stockings, a beige vest and a red long-sleeve coat, she struck an impressive figure for a school girl. Blue eyes sparkled from the little light available, piercing the night with their strong gaze.

I always did have a thing for pretty Asian girls.

Harry couldn’t help the slight smile that formed on his face at the thought of Cho Chang and their disastrous relationship, before frowning at the heavy, malicious aura of power that enveloped the area.

“Noble Phantasm,” Harry breathed, eyes locking onto the crimson lance wielded by its master. The air was saturated with a demonic taint, the oppressive pressure pooling at the tip of Lancer’s spear. It pulsed, a sticky feeling running the length of Harry’s spine as the foul aura continued to build. Lancer was talking again but Harry didn’t even ponder what may have been said, staring intently at the now vibrating lance.

The red-and-black clad Servant tensed in anticipation.

Harry held his breath.

Time stilled, a single second felt like several.

Then...

Harry blinked as the monstrous killing intent vanished, the oppressive aura leaving a strange taste lingering in the air. Lancer’s head swivelled to the side in an instant, the unknown Servant followed suit, eyes widening in surprise. From his position on the roof, Harry was unable to catch a glimpse of anything but a flash of orange before whatever it was retreated the way it had come.

Words were exchanged before Lancer used his exceptional speed to give chase, disappearing between the main school building and the smaller one Harry called his perch. He watched as the young girl and Servant conversed briefly, before the silver-haired man followed the other Servant’s lead, his Master following at a slower but impressive-for-a-human pace.

Harry frowned as he was left alone.

It was then that he noticed his plummeting mana levels, the use of his cloak all but draining the last of the power-boost his Master had bestowed upon him for the day. While he could last some amount of time outside the temple grounds without such a boost, it would be a day or two at the very most, if he were lucky. He had a feeling his Master would be angered if he were to waste his own reserves when he only had enough to last the duration the war and that was without engaging in any strenuous battles, which he was sure would be impossible to avoid completely.

No, she would not be pleased.

Not at all.

Any valuable information he could recover from following them did not compare to his continued existence, he reasoned after little thought. His Master would need him in the coming days, she had summoned him for a reason, after all... and personally, he didn’t wish to simply drift off into nothingness, even after the war was over and especially not before its conclusion. Being reckless would only hasten his demise.

He wanted his existence to continue.

Removing his invisibility cloak, the material pooled at his feet before sinking into the stone as if it were never there. His body followed, fading from view as it drifted into that of the spirit realm.

He had much to think about in the coming days.

-x-X-x-

AN: Okay, you are probably wondering why I decided to do this crossover between Harry Potter and Fate/Stay Night. Honestly, the idea wouldn’t leave me the hell alone. It started with a little one-shot piece I posted over at Dark Lord Potter and kind of spiralled from there after I got some pretty encouraging feedback.

All because a certain someone decided to show me the anime.

Anyway, I’m certain I will offend fans everywhere and I’m sorry in advance. I will not stop. Hopefully this won’t be too traumatising for you.

In any case, I hope some of you enjoyed this.

Peace.