An enormous serpent reared its head, blood seeping from its ruined eyes. It thrashed in rage as a beautiful, majestic bird attacked gracefully – avoiding the snake’s desperate lunges, its massive mouth snapping at its swooping adversary. Its thick, poisonous green body was coiled around several pillars, head swaying back and forth as it attempted to devour the red and gold phoenix – for what else could such a creature be? It soared backwards and forwards, sharp beak digging into hollow sockets again and again.

A young boy with glasses scrambled away from the fight, eyes wide with surprise. He looked no older than ten, his frame so small – a sickly, lightning bolt scar adorning his head under a crop of messy black hair.

“No!” an enraged voice called in an inhuman tongue, which only few could ever understand. It was a handsome teenager, but his good looks were twisted by anger. Looking closer, there was a striking resemblance between him and the young, terrified boy. The outline of his body was blurred, as if he were not fully corporeal – a ghost, perhaps? “Leave the bird! Leave the bird! The boy is behind you! You can still smell him! Kill him!”

The blinded serpent spat angrily as the phoenix continued its assault, an eerie trill escaping the bird’s throat every so often. Large, thin fangs snapped dangerously close – yet the bird was too fast, escaping with an impressive aerial display. The boy was muttering to himself before the snake flailed wildly, its thick tail sweeping across the floor. He ducked, narrowly avoiding the heavy strike, a bundle of cloth smacking him in the face.

It was a hat.

The scarred child grabbed the hat as if it were a weapon, clumsily jamming it over his head. A few moments passed – bird and serpent still locked in combat – before the hat visibly constricted. The boy tensed, quickly removing the hat and gazing into its tattered depths. Inside was a gleaming blade of purist silver, shining brightly despite the dark atmosphere of the chamber. Large, egg-sized blood red rubies encrusted the hilt – glittering with an inner light. Along the flat side of the blade, a name was expertly inscribed upon its length – Godric Gryffindor.

It was beautiful.

“Kill the boy!” the angry teen continued, barking orders furiously. “Leave the bird! The boy is behind you! Sniff – smell him!”

The boy was on his feet now, gripping the silver sword firmly. The snake twisted and turned to face him, body banging against the pillars around which it was coiled. It opened its mouth wide and it was large enough to swallow the child whole, rows of sharp fangs revealed – equal in length to the silver sword – venom dripping ominously from the tips.

It struck blindly and without warning. He dodged, the snake crashing into the chamber wall with a bang. Stone fragmented from the heavy impact but the serpent turned and struck again without pause, a forked tongue lashing out against the boy’s side. He stumbled but remained standing, raising his sword threateningly with both hands. It lunged again, and this time its aim was true. Unable to avoid it any longer, the boy put all his weight behind the sword, driving upward with the pristine blade. With a wet squelch, the sword was driven through the roof of the snake's mouth and into its brain – the lavish hilt in the youngsters grip being the only part of it which remained visible.

But as rivulets of cold, sticky blood coated his arms, the kid cried out – falling away as the snake tipped over sideways to the damp floor, twitching. The boy stared at his arm in horror, a large, splintered fang piercing his skin. He slid down to the floor, limp – tenderly gripping the venomous fang and wrenched it from his body without as much as a whimper. The tooth clattered to the ground as his eyes become foggy and unfocused, already pale skin becoming paler.

Through all of this, Saber looked on with a horrified expression.

-x-X-x-

“I feel rather... violated.”

With the bounded field down and the destruction of school property on display, the four participants of the Holy Grail War, who had remained behind, relocated to a safer location. It was somewhere isolated at the base of the mountain which housed Ryuudou, only much further out than many people ever travelled. Harry tilted his head as he heard blaring police sirens in the distance, followed by the similar but subtly different sounds from an ambulance. Knowing that the students were in good hands put the wizard at ease, but one glance at the irate Saber chased away any contentment he may have felt.

“You feel violated?” she demanded incredulously. “Do not pretend you did not intend this!”

Shirou and Rin remained silent, observing the two Servants quietly, both unsure of how to react. Soon after leaving the school, Saber had revealed to them what had put her in such a crabby mood. Apparently, while she had rested at home conserving her strength, her dreams had been anything but pleasant – or even her own. The things she had witnessed and experienced had nothing at all to do with her, but with the fictional hero standing before them.

She had seen into his memories.

She had seen a part of his life.

And she had no idea why.

“Why would I show you my memories?” Harry shot back, rolling his eyes. “What purpose would that serve?”

“I am sure there is a reason,” she returned just as quickly. “I demand that you remove whatever enchantment you have placed me under, at once!”

“Are you even listening to me?” he asked, frowning at the visible twitch she developed above her right eye. “I have no idea why this is happening, okay? And if I could stop it, I would.”

The two Servants glared at each other before Saber turned away with a huff. Crossing her arms, she stared off into the thicket of trees that surrounded them. Harry sighed, hands on hips as he tried to figure out just what was going on.

“Was that the only thing you saw?”

He was referring to his battle with the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. It had felt strange, listening to someone else recount one of his adventures like they had been there, like they had braved those sewers themselves, fighting hopelessly against a creature that dwarfed him by a country mile to save his best friends little sister.

Saber turned back towards Harry, her expression smoothing over. “No.”

“What else did you see?”

She hesitated for a moment, before saying, “A young woman being murdered... while she protected her son.”

Harry flinched.

He hadn’t expected that.

“Oh,” he replied softly.

An awkward silence followed.

It was broken by Rin.

“As informative as this is,” she began. “You are still our enemy.”

The teen magus stepped forward and came level with Saber. Shirou remained where he was, content to observe for now. Harry clucked his tongue.

“Am I really?”

“Of course you are,” she replied, irritated. “I appreciate that you did your best to protect the students, but that doesn’t change the fact that you are a Servant in this war. That you are helping another Master try claim the grail, a Master who has no qualms with harming innocents.”

Harry frowned, unsure what she meant by that. Harming innocents? Ignoring that for the time being, he replied immediately.

“So what?” Harry asked, nodding toward Saber. “Is she your enemy as well?”

Rin blinked. “What?”

“As you said,” he explained somewhat condescendingly. “She is helping another Master try win this war, as am I. Should you not strike her down?”

Rin glanced at Saber, the blonde Servant returning the gesture. “I have entered an alliance with Emiya-kun, so of course not.”

“Then how about entering an alliance with me, then?” he suggested, taking them by surprise.

“As if!” she shouted, suddenly angry. “Didn’t you just hear what I said? Your Master is a despicable being who harvests the life force of others. I would never accept such an alliance if it were possible.”

Harvests the life force of others? Now he really was confused.

“What do you mean?”

The silence that followed was deafening, Rin shooting him a look of disbelief. Even Saber and Shirou were giving him strange looks, like he had just said something incredibly stupid. An indignant feeling swelled in his chest.

“What?” he snapped irritated. His uncharacteristic loss of temper startled the others gathered.

“You don’t know?” Rin began to laugh. “Ha! Haha!”

Harry’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I hate this stupid war.”

Saber growled at his comment and Harry realised his mistake. Servants had a reason for obeying their Masters, after all – they wanted a miracle, a granted wish by the Holy Grail. To Saber and others like her, this war was not stupid or meaningless – it was everything. Even Harry admitted that if he was able, he would seriously consider winning just so he could... what?

He didn’t know. Become a real boy? Probably. If it truly was capable of granting any wish...

Rin had stopped laughing but her lips were still pulled back in a mocking smile, the tiny laugh-lines around her eyes crinkled as she restrained herself.

“You really don’t know, do you?” Harry remained silent. “This is great! She keeps you in the dark like an innocent child.”

“Could you please tell Archer to hurry up and fire?” he asked gruffly. “I’d rather be dead than listen to you any longer.”

Rin froze in shock, eyes wide. Shirou whipped around, searching frantically for the man who had nearly killed him the night before. Saber remained relatively impassive; the only clue that his words had affected her was the hardening of her eyes and her clenched fists. Harry smirked slightly, the faint presence on the edge of his senses moving position until he could no longer feel him. If they had been somewhere open, he would have been worried. The large trees of the forest provided an unintentional protection from long range attacks, if only by impeding Archer’s view.

“Did you see anything else?” he resumed his questioning of Saber, seemingly unconcerned that he was targeted for death. Now that the young raven-haired magus was speechless, his mood was rapidly returning to normal.

“A man swearing some sort of unbreakable vow?” she queried, continuing at his nod. “He was with two women.”

Serverus Snape. Narcissa Malfoy. Bellatrix Lestrange.

He was just as confused as before, when he had dreamt such things.

They weren’t just his memories that the small Servant had seen.

“Something isn’t right.” he whispered. Only Saber with her sharp hearing caught it.

“What is not right?”

Harry looked the petite knight up and down before answering.

“I wasn’t there, was I? During the binding.”

Saber’s nose wrinkled cutely as she thought about what he said.

“...no, it was only those three and someone called Worm...tail?”

Harry nodded.

“So what does that mean?” Shirou spoke up for the first time, drawing the wizard’s attention.

“It means I wasn’t there.” Harry explained, rubbing his neck. “And if I wasn’t there, then that means they can’t possibly be my memories, can they?”

A short silence engulfed them, until a blooming pain began to spread from Harry’s forearm. He grit his teeth, startling the others present with his sudden sour look. Harry waved, turning on the spot.

“Master calls. See you around.”

“Wait!” Rin called out but a sharp crack announced his exit, the Servant gone. Moments later, Archer appeared – long black bow in hand. He gazed at the recently vacated spot for a few seconds, before turning towards his Master.

“I could not get a good shot. I apologise, Master.”

Saber moved, raising her invisible weapon from her waist but a firm hand placed on her shoulder halted her actions. She followed the arm and found Shirou, giving her a small shake of his head. She frowned but obeyed nonetheless, lowering her blade. Rin had grown rigid at the aggressive look on Saber’s face, but now that she had been stood down by Shirou, a relaxed smirk graced her mouth.

“We really need to take care of Caster,” she began, ignoring the smug look Archer was sending the tiny knight. “She is gathering power much too fast and with Harry Potter on her side... it would be foolish to let them continue unopposed. The longer we wait, the more powerful they become.”

“But how do we go about this?” Shirou questioned. “Even though Harry is a little odd, he isn’t exactly useless. He was able to keep Saber back and from what we saw, didn’t have much trouble with Rider.”

Rin hummed thoughtfully.

“As much as it pains me to admit it, you’re right.” A look of mild distaste crossed her face at conceding that fact. “He is capable of things that would make him extremely powerful if he were a true magus. I’ve seen him teleport twice and it doesn’t even seem to use much mana at all. It’s insane.”

“We could go after the teacher,” Archer supplied, bow now absent. He crossed his arms over his armoured chest, a cocky look still directed at Saber. “He is their most vulnerable link.”

Saber returned his look with a vicious glare but didn’t say a word. Shirou shifted uneasily, the thought of attacking a person – and someone he knew – didn’t sit well with him, even if they were a Master.

“Wait a second,” Shirou gave Archer a strange look. “How do you know about Kuzuki-sensei?”

Rin waved it away. “I let him know – but that isn’t important. It’s possible that Caster or Kuzuki-sensei didn’t notice us at the school. They were distracted after all. It might give us a chance.”

“I guess school will be cancelled for awhile until they figure out what happened.”

Rin grimaced, nodding at Shirou’s words. “You wouldn’t happen to know where he lives, would you?”

Shirou shook his head, no. Rin sighed, “I suppose we start there... oh!”

The sudden shout drew strange looks from Saber, Archer and Shirou. Rin flushed lightly under their combined effort.

“I have an idea,” she admitted. “I have to go check on some things first, though. I’ll meet you at your place tomorrow, okay Emiya-kun?”

“What about Rider?” Shirou asked as the Tohsaka heir prepared to depart, the crimson archer by her side. “Is she dead?”

Rin scowled. “Unfortunately no. She won’t be bothering us for awhile, at least. I doubt she can do more than writhe in pain after what Saber did to her.”

-x-X-x-

As soon as Harry appeared, he knew the following conversation was going to be painful. What he didn’t know was if it would be literally or merely extremely stressful, thus painful for his brain. The emotionless expression on his Masters uncovered face – matched by that of Kuzuki, who stood beside her – gave nothing away.

“You called, Master?” he asked with as much respect as he could muster. He kept his eyes on Caster, preferring to ignore the teacher for the time being. This was the first time he had been called before his Master with Kuzuki present and that important fact did not escape him. Even so, he was bursting inside with questions but knew he had to wait for the perfect time. Rin’s mocking laughter echoed in his mind, as did her words.

That you are helping another Master try claim the grail, a Master who has no qualms with harming innocents.

“I did.”

Harry shifted slightly at the silence.

“What can I do for you?”

Her head tilted to the right slightly. “You know of Souichirou-sama, of course.”

Harry nodded slowly – a little unsure of where this was going, “I do. He is your Master, yet he is not a mage. It doesn’t surprise me. Word of your upcoming marriage... now that was surprising.”

He should have known better than to have attempted a joke. Tough crowd didn’t even begin to describe the pair before him. Kuzuki didn’t react in the slightest, his lean form towering over Harry by a few inches. Caster raised an eyebrow and that was it.

“You are correct. He is not a mage. But that does not make him any less dangerous.”

Again, Harry nodded. “Rider was really struggling with him... ah.”

Now he knew what this was about.

“I got in his way.”

A tiny grin appeared on Caster’s face as she raised one of her hands. Fingers together, she clicked them once – a bolt of intense pain rocketing through his body. Harry’s jaw locked as every muscle in his body contracted in agony, the young man collapsing in a twitching heap. Panting harshly, he attempted to regain his footing when she clicked her fingers a second, third and fourth time. Each time, he convulsed like a dying fish, teeth clenched so hard that he was lucky they didn’t crack.

Trembling, he propped himself on his hands and knees as she spoke.

“That is sufficient punishment for now.”

For the first time since he had been summoned, he had the desire to see her broken. It was a fleeting thought, but there nonetheless – one that he quashed immediately. Nothing good ever happened when he started thinking that way, his tremulous past a prime example of this. Primal urges leashed for the time being, he answered softly.

“Yes, Master.”

He had wanted to question her about his jumbled dreams. Being his Master and the one who summoned him, she could possibly have all the answers he needed to understand the situation. Yet after her little show of domination, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to reveal what was on his mind. Truthfully, what little trust he held for her was now absent – the agonising shocks still running through his weary body brushing it aside like an unstable sandcastle, scattered to the winds.

But could he really figure it out on his own? Harry wasn’t so sure.

And then there were Rin’s words, again echoing in his mind.

Your Master is a despicable being who harvests the life force of others.

Pieces were starting to fall into place, yet much too slowly.

“I am sorry you had to see this, Souichirou-sama.”

Harry peered up through his messy hair, watching as Caster bowed slightly, hands clasped. Kuzuki nodded sharply, eyes still lingering on the downed Servant.

“I will leave the rest up to you.”

That said the man left swiftly – his first words of the night being his last. Harry thought it fit what he knew of the man perfectly. Cold and aloof, he was not one to waste time; sharp, intelligent, he did not suffer fools lightly. The door shut with a click, leaving the two Servants alone.

Harry suddenly tensed as Caster approached with graceful strides, her silken robe rustling as she lowered herself, kneeling in front of him. A soft, warm hand cupped his cheek, her palm tracing his cheekbone gently. A second hand joined the first – only this one threaded its fingers through his raven black hair, occasionally retreating for fingertips to run over his jagged lightning bolt scar, a pleasant tingle pooling in the wizards stomach at the sensation.

His mind nearly shut down at the unexpected touch.

“Why must you make it hard on yourself?”

Harry shuddered as her nails lightly scratched his scalp, very nearly drawing a pleased hum from his lips.

“You disappoint me,” she chided, focusing now on his scar – massaging the tender flesh. “I expected more of humanity's hope, but at the same time... you are more. You surprise me.”

He wanted to ask what she meant by humanity's hope, but nothing left his throat. He drowned in the feelings of warmth and contentment she showered him with, all with but her gentle touch. Her next words brought him back to reality with a harsh plummet.

“I want you to kill Rider.”

Caster’s hands retreated, resting modestly in her lap as she sat seiza-style. Attempting to compose himself, Harry propped himself up in a crouched position, removing his glasses and rubbing at his eyes wearily.

“You want me to kill Rider,” he repeated, replacing his glasses. He stared at his Master curiously.

“Indeed.” she confirmed, giving him a pointed look. “You are the reason she still lives, after all. It is only fitting that you correct this.”

It had been an accident – and now knew why apparating into homes directly was considered bad in his world; he could think of a host of things one would come across – but that didn’t matter. He caused the problem, so now he was being told to fix it. Thinking on it, it probably wouldn’t even be a difficult task either – Saber had nearly cleaved the beautiful woman in two. All he had to do was dispose of the scraps and that was that. The first Servant to fall in the war would be Rider.

Only... did he really want to kill her like this? If he was honest with himself, he wasn’t so sure. In the heat of battle, he had no qualms with putting down another person with good reason – and he did have good reason, several in fact; one for every student she attempted to siphon dry. Cold blooded murder however... it never had been his area of expertise.

For the greater good, some would say. Harry felt like punching Dumbledore in the face at this moment.

Especially when he couldn’t help but agree.

“Should I go now?” he asked, getting to his feet. Muscles no longer aching, he was hit with a small dose of fatigue nonetheless.

“Regain your strength first,” she gave an obvious look toward his ring finger. “Then you hunt.”

-x-X-x-

“Shinji.”

The voice was soft, weary with age, issued from a hunched form hidden by shadow.

“What are you doing?”

Though weary, it was anything but weak – a certain maliciousness creeping into the words spoken, a certain power. It was the voice of someone in control – dominant. The young male form on the bed gave a visible start, head whipping around in shock.

“Wha... ojii-san!”

“Get off of her. You don’t have time to play around.”

Shinji obeyed instantly, a feminine whimper escaping from the sprawled form on his bed. He scowled down at Sakura before facing his grandfather nervously.

Matou Zouken didn’t look like much at first glance. If one word were used to describe the man, it would be old – another used could perhaps be frail. Not even five foot tall, he was as un-intimidating as they come – that is, until you gazed into his eyes. Pools of inky black with hazy white pupils took in the world with an almost evil gleam, filled with an unknown, insatiable hunger. They peered out from sunken eye sockets, his head resembling a dried walnut more than anything else. Having lived longer than any human should, he looked emaciated – rotting from within – yet he held himself with dignity and strength, a sharp contradiction to the state of his body.

The power of magecraft was a glorious thing.

“O-Ojii-san, I was jus-”

“Yes, yes,” Zouken interrupted, gesturing for his grandson to follow as he left the room. The blue haired boy scurried behind him obediently, ignoring his sister’s weak attempts at covering herself with her torn shirt. “That can wait. We have things to discuss.”

The pair shuffled down the hallway silently, entering through the last door on the right. The room was large but sparsely furnished, containing only a king size bed, a set of drawers and a full length mirror. Shinji shifted uncomfortably, having only entered this place only twice before in his entire life. His grandfather rarely let anyone inside his sanctuary and the lack of any personal details always unsettled the young Matou, even when he had been younger.

“Your Servant needs mana,” Zouken began, giving his charge a long look. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I-I don’t know...” Zouken glared then sighed.

“You are lucky this war is much too unpredictable to get involved in myself or I would strip you of your little book and take over.” Shinji clenched his hands until his knuckles popped but said nothing, looking away in shame. “As it is, that thing the witch on the mountain summoned throws up too many variables... no, I can wait until next time.”

“Next time?” Shinji questioned lightly.

“That isn’t important, child.” he lectured. “But its time you start acting like a true Master, a Matou Master. Understand?”

The boy flinched at the harsh tone. “Yes, ojii-san.”

“Now then, what are you going to do?”

Brows drawn together in a frown, the younger of the two thought long and hard about his next move. While he wasn’t the smartest person around and had a horrendous temper that often clouded his judgement, Shinji could use his brain when the need arose and focus on a goal, as was shown in the few classes at school he actually enjoyed. This also applied to the Archery Club he was a member of, as he didn’t become vice captain for nothing.

He was not in the same class as Emiya when it came to the ancient discipline or even Mitsuzuri Ayako – the clubs captain – but he more than held his own...

He blinked, a terrible smile crossing his features. Zouken watched this happen impassively.

“Worked something out, have you?”

“Yes, I believe so,” he replied smugly, glancing over at the covered window. The sun was still out but it would only be a couple hours at most until the city would be bathed in darkness. “But it’ll have to wait until tonight.”

“Do tell, grandson,” Zouken prompted. “I am curious.”

Shinji opened his mouth, ready to reveal his grand plans when without warning, Zouken stepped back and struck at the wall in with fluid motion. The sound of his palm slapping against the wall caused the young student to jump, shooting his grandfather a worried look as the elderly man inspected his handy work.

“A familiar,” the old mage explained, showing Shinji the smear of blood that now stained his wrinkled palm. “Quite crafty, using an insect. Someone is watching me, it seems. Interesting.”

“Do you know who it could be?” Shinji asked, glancing around the room with a suspicious eye. The idea that someone could be watching him at all times set him on edge, a light sweat forming on his brow. He had read all about the different types of familiar a mage could control, yet never stopped to think that someone may employ such a tactic against him.

“I have a few ideas,” was the vague response. “But it matters not. Keep your plan to yourself. I doubt that was the only bug lurking around here and we don’t want other people to know, do we now?”

-x-X-x-

Kotomine Kirei grimaced as the last thing he witnessed in the Matou household was the giant, age-ravaged hand of Zouken, moments before his familiar was smeared from existence. With a heavy sigh, the man stepped out of the confessional he had been seated in, idly brushing imaginary dirt from the sleeves of his purple coat. Dressed in simple black slacks, shoes and button up shirt, the dark purple knee-length coat was the only thing that gave off any semblance of colour – which wasn’t much at all.

Ordinary brown hair and dull, listless brown eyes enforced his dreary appearance. If it wasn’t for the large golden crucifix that rested against his breast, you’d think the man absorbed all manner of light with just his presence.

Giving the empty church a brief inspection, he wandered toward the altar, idly rubbing his hand across the smooth, well worn wood.

Kotomine Kirei was a simple man whom led a complicated existence. As a priest and a member of the Catholic Church he had been picked to oversee the battle royal known as the Holy Grail War, in a joint venture between the Church and the Mages Association – two organizations that barely tolerated the other. In the best interests of both groups, they learned to get along and play nice when needed despite all the politics that were no doubt involved.

If being a priest overseeing a magical war wasn’t complicated enough, in an odd twist, Kotomine also happened to be a magus – one also employed by the Mages Association, one that had taken part in the previous war, all of ten years ago. Plainly, he was a man of many talents.

His job as mediator of the war was fairly straightforward. The most important part of his job was to keep the existence of magic a secret from the general populace, through any means necessary – something that both the Church and the Mages Association greatly desired above all else, where there was no conflict of interest. If that meant taking down each Master one by one until no one remained, it was within his right to do so. He was also to advise any Master that came seeking information at the start of the war – something that had already long passed. He was also to shelter any Master whom required it after losing his or her Servant in the resulting chaos.

So far, no one had approached him for sanctuary. Not yet, at any rate.

The latest battle that had occurred was sure to draw attention but it was nothing to worry about. The destruction of school property and the hospitalization of the entire student body would make the news, but like normal, it would be blamed on something else. Kotomine made sure of that. It would be the first reported case of the mysterious gas leaks plaguing the city to occur outside of Shinto.

For the time being, he was doing his job splendidly.

But he wasn’t one to play by the rules.

“Are you done already?” a male voice sounded, arrogant and proud. “That was rather fast, Kirei.”

The priest didn’t bother turning around. “I was discovered. There is no point in trying again.”

A sinister chuckle filled the halls, one of the many benches creaking as the figure took a seat. “You’re losing your touch.”

“Maybe.”

Silence fell.

“Where have you been?” Kotomine questioned lightly, reaching into a pocket and retrieving a small lighter. Striding over to a row of candles, he began methodically lighting each one with well practised movements. It would soon be night fall.

“I was bored, so I went for a walk.” The figure answered, crossing their legs and reclining against the backrest. “What I found intrigues me.”

“Oh?”

Finished with the candles, Kotomine finally faced his companion. A well placed shadow from one of the rafters shielded his face from view, but Kotomine could easily see the sandy blonde hair and angular jaw line. The crossed legs were clad in simple black pants, his torso covered by a white button up shirt and a black jacket, open casually in the front. Several buttons of the shirt were undone, showing the beginnings of a muscular chest.

A hint of excitement filled the mystery-mans voice. “The doll summoned a demi-god.”

“Hercules,” Kotomine confirmed. “Quite the hero.”

“And she is back.”

Whoever it was that the man referred too, Kotomine obviously knew who it was. “Ah, I see what you’ve been doing. How long have you been watching her?”

“You know me too well,” was his reply. “One must look after their property, after all. She is mine.”

Kotomine grinned slightly, hands clasped behind his back. “Then you saw Harry Potter.”

Instantly, the temperature changed – where once the room was mildly chilly, now it was downright frigid. An intense presence filled the room, broiling and churning wildly with undefined, negative emotions. Anyone else would have choked on this feeling of impending doom, drowned in the wave of pure intent. Kotomine merely quirked an eyebrow in question – a rare showing of his surprise.

“That piece of shit,” the man spat, the tense feeling increasing. “A fairy tale of humanity. I’ve seen what people think of this hero. Bah! When the time comes, I will show him his place – at my feet, broken.”

“My, my,” Kotomine chided. “Aren’t you getting all worked up…”

“Fakers annoy me,” and as if nothing had even occurred, the atmosphere returned to normal, the voice calm and haughty once more. “And I don’t like the interest he has shown in my property. Insolent whelp, I’ll enjoy tearing him limb from limb.”