Harry Potter London Nights
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Chapter 9
Night Fight
ô... So that's what Hill wants. He's offering a bounty for killing her.ö
ôWorks for me.ö
ôPasta is almost ready.ö
ôI noticed. It smells nice. Nothing like the pasta I'm familiar with, but that cream sauce -what did you call it again?-
ô-Alfredo.ö
ôYes, the alfredo smells delicious.ö
ôI was originally going to do a chicken parmesan, but I really didn't have the ingredients necessary for frying the chicken. That and I really didn't feel like making tomato sauce from scratch.ö
ôNo problem. I know you tried your hardest. It should be quite pleasant.ö
Harry chuckled.
ôIt was a bit tough to decide how to cook the chicken. I eventually just decided on olive oil and a few herbs. Thanks for the fresh ingredients, by the way.ö
ôNo problem. If you look in the right places, they can be found pretty cheap. Besides, I didn't trust that boxed stuff.ö
ôThanks. I prefer working with fresh ingredients. A lot more work, but it lets me micromanage to my heart's content.ö
ôIt seems as though you cook a lot.ö
ôA hobby. Originally, my aunt and uncle gave it to me as a chore. Burned myself a few times. At first, I really hated it. 'Woe is me, why must I do this bullshit.' Then I realized two important things around age ten. First, I got to eat what I wanted as much as I wanted within reasonable limits. Up until then, I would probably say that I was probably malnourished. Then, I started looking at cookbooks, talking with neighbors while doing chores for them during the summer. So, using the little money I got from chores, I began to go out and buy extra bits of ingredients whenever I went on shopping trips. It was pretty fun, I'll admit, staying up late just to sneak downstairs and try and cook something delicious. It's kinda' a girly hobby, but I enjoy cooking.ö
Archer gave him a small applause.
ôIf it means anything to you, I don't mind. I don't mind whipped house husbands.ö
Harry laughed. In fact, he laughed in a rather hard fashion.
ôDominance fetish? Why Archer!ö he joked.
ôOh you~ Besides, I know that you can do you share of ass-kicking.ö
The Master and Servant both smiled.
ôWell, would you like dinner to be served?ö
ôOf course, serve away.ö
He went off to the kitchen. Archer sat down at the table in her street clothes. Harry quickly came back with two plates of chicken breast on a bed of pasta. A small container of sauce was brought in addition.
ôI was trying to think of the best way to serve the sauce. I didn't want the noodles to get soggy or anything, and I didn't know when you would get back. I decided to simply drizzle it onto the food when I served it.ö
ôArcher get.ö
Harry smiled and began to drizzle the deliciously steaming sauce onto the food. He performed this first for Archer before then serving himself. Archer waited dutifully with a slight smile until he was seated before beginning to eat. She ate it with great gusto.
ôMy compliments to the chef,ö said the Servant.
ôYou are very welcome,ö replied Harry.
ôI'm thinking something Japanese tomorrow night. Perhaps you could give a few pointers.ö
ôSounds like fun.ö
ôWhat do you say to a little Berserker hunting?ö
ôAlso sounds like fun.ö
Harry went and began to gather his things. There was something new in his arsenal, a trenchcoat. It had been used by Dudley a few years ago when he had tried for an intimidating thug look. It had been rather distinctive and given him a little too much notoriety, so he threw it away. Harry, having some fondness for longcoats, saved it. Now, it was treated with spells to make it hard as steel. Hopefully, it would give some protection against the bullets of Rider's Master. Several bottles of the incendiary solution went into his pockets. The sword was attached to his belt, the jacket's length serving to hide the weapon. The wand lay in one of the pockets, ready for quick access.
ôSo,ö he said, ôHow about we light up the London night.ö
There was an ambitious gleam in his eyes that had not been there a mere month before.
ôLet's raise hell.ö
There was an ambitious gleam in her eyes that put his to shame.
***
In the dimly lit church, two men spoke. One was the aged but firm Father Nathan Hill. The second was a younger man with handsome dark hair in a grey, fitted Italian suit.
ôCan you do this, Father?ö
ôOf course I can. I know everything regarding the Grail War. I know where you live.ö
ôThank you. I understand that giving dinner invitations is not exactly standard operating practice.ö
ôDo you do this to hide your weakness or conceal your strength?ö
ôWhat!ö
ôI have a very good idea with regards to the identity of Lancer, Nikolai. If my guess is correct, you either have a very weak Noble Phantasm, given that there are no real legendary arms, armaments or skills for this person. On the other hand, you might have a very strong Servant with a Noble Phantasm fit to fight Saber on her own ground.ö
The young man, Nikolai, chuckled.
ôI'd rather not say.ö
ôSuit yourself. I'll be watching.ö
ôSee you later, Father!ö
***
Archer and Harry sat on the roof of an abandoned parking complex. Several stories of concrete rose in a monument to the automobile and capitalistic consumerism. It was well past nightfall by now. Both had a hot meal in their stomachs. They sat together, laying back and watching the stars as best they could through the clouds and light pollution
ôWhat's the plan, Master?ö asked Archer.
ôShe hates my guts -a feeling that is obviously mutual. If I make myself known, she should come like a moth to flames. Then, I need you to keep Berserker unable from assisting his Master. I'm playing dirty. Do you know something of portkeys?ö
ôYes. What about them?ö
ôI'll use my molotov cocktails to herd her into a portkey which will deposit her next to our residence. Then, I hit her with the Pimp Hand of God-ö
ô-Dick in the Sky. Also, you changed it-ö
ô-Whatever. Anyway, Berserker tends to be a power-hungry Servant. He should disappear pretty quickly after his Master dies.ö
ôI like it, but Berserker gave Saber some trouble. I'm not sure I can hold him off long enough for you to administer the Dick in the Sky.ö
ôWorst comes to worst, we use the portkey to escape. Does that sound good? Besides, I won't hesitate to use a command seal if necessary.ö
ôAlright. How do you plan to get her attention?ö
ôI'm going to put up an image of the Death Eater insignia being swallowed by a phoenix. Something like that should rile her up sufficiently. If more Death Eaters come, well, they will be fodder for the cannons.ö
Archer laughed, starting softly but building up to a loud crescendo.
ôThat they will. I'll show them how Heroic Spirits are on a completely different level from mere mortals.ö
ôI thought you were a partner to a certain 'mere mortal' as you put it?ö
ôYou're an exception. Besides, you might as well be cannon fodder against me. It would be along the lines of 'Bang! You're dead!'ö
Harry laughed.
ôWhat say we get our party started?ö
ôAbsolutely.ö
Harry stood up and cast the spell. A spark went up like a flare from a gun before exploding like a firework. Sparks flew into position, forming the rather inflammatory image. Harry chuckled and swung the invisibility cloak onto his shoulders. It was an absurdly useful advantage, one which only a fool would waste. It would not fool Archer, given that she was too sharp to be fooled by such petty tricks. Now, it was simply time to wait and watch the fish take the bait.
They did have to wait long. Berserker and Bellatrix soon arrived. Archer sat casually, legs crossed and eating an apple.
ôGood evening,ö said the scarlet-clad samurai, ôI'm glad you got the invitation.ö
ôI'm going to kill you,ö said Bellatrix very plainly, ôOr maybe not. Maybe I'll have Berserker violate you before you die.ö
ôThat would imply a degree of intelligence necessary to catch me, something which I am certain the mad Servant lacks.ö
The evil witch grit her teeth.
ôKill her, Berserker.ö
The mad priest, Raputin, rushed forward. The twin guns were already in Archer's hands and firing. Hot lead was spat from cold steel. Berserker rushed forward as it is the only thing he can do. His weapons are his fists; in order to use his fists, Berserker must close to point-blank range with Archer. Archer was, by far, the more versatile servant. Primarily, she used twin arquebuses from range, but she also was able to use the daishou pair of katana and wakizashi. For a fight such as this, it was in the best interests of Archer to keep the distance. Ten meters could be crossed in the blink of an eye, so Archer kept a distance of thirty.
Already, the priest has been hit several times and is bleeding. How can primitive matchlocks do what modern submachine guns cannot? This pair of matchlocks are Noble Phantasms, legendary weapons to whom the laws that govern their modern descendants do not apply. An icy white aura surrounds the mad Servant, reinvigorating him and giving greater strength.
ôAh,ö said Archer, ôI forgot about that pesky Noble Phantasm of yours.ö
Archer knew that she faced a dilemma; the more she hit Berserker, the more powerful he would become. Berserker was also too stupid to try and dodge, so she could not confine him with gunfire. Hand-to-hand combat was simply a poor choice. She needed to fight him without actually harming him as that would cause his Noble Phantasm to activate.
Archer smiled. This was going to be fun.
Harry withdrew a bottle of the incendiary potion. All he had to do was get her to one square of concrete to win. He'd let the blood-bound defenses take care of the rest. Taking aim, he chucked the bottle just behind her. If she burned to death, that worked too.
She caught sight of the spinning bottle and blasted it in midair with an explosive spell. A large fireball bloomed on the battlefield. Her eyes snapped to his location. It made sense; an invisibility cloak couldn't hide the shadow cast on the ground. A barrage of explosive spells shattered concrete and cratered dirt.
Harry dove to the ground, attempting to minimize his shadow. The wand was out, readied almost like a pistol. There was no way he could win in a straight magic duel. He had to play sneaky and be creative. It was time for transfiguration exploitation. He tapped the earth, muttering an incantation. Several large spikes of hardened earth rose up like the writhing tentacles of an unspeakable eldritch horror. She tapdanced around the lancing thrusts before bring her wand to bear and destroying them with explosive spellfire.
Harry was already moving, a pair of bottles in hand. He had enchanted them with a ôsafetyö in that they had a durability charm which prevented self-immolation should he fall or hit a hard surface. However, they became ôliveö once he had them in his hands. Bellatrix was caught off-guard by the explosive, but managed to escape from its deadly blast. It was working. He was herding her where he wanted her to go. Only fifteen more meters.
How long would that take?
How long could Archer hold off Berserker?
Would anyone else get involved?
What will she do next?
These were the questions that flitted through his head before he shook them off. Though the entire situation needed to be taken into account, he could pay with his life if he became distracted by thoughts outside of his goal.
Another bottle was swiftly hurled, bursting into a hellish fireball. The heat and light were so great that Harry had to shield his eyes. Surely nothing could survive such a blazing inferno? She did, of course, with spells meant to deal with witch burnings. Harry cursed. He only used three of the eight before they had been neutralized. Then there was the matter of which spell she was using. One had a duration of five minutes, becoming less effective over time. The other relied on the caster's continued concentration. Harry knew that he needed to devise countermeasures for both.
A little more transfiguration abuse was necessary. Air to chlorine gas was interesting, but had enormous potential to backfire. Something with firepower was necessary. Harry thought about the scariest and most dangerous animal possible. In spite of the dragons he had faced, his immediate thought was a bear. He then transfigured the ground into large bear whose growling visage would put fear into the hearts of all but the hardiest.
While the stone bear was charging, Harry was sneaking around for a cheap shot. When all else fails, hit it with your sword. Sometimes, simple brute force was all that was necessary. Besides, there was something simply more visceral and satisfying about the brutality of hand-to-hand combat.
An Avada Kedavra shattered the magic holding the bear together. Harry was close, perhaps fifteen paces from her. Idly, she pointed a finger in his direction and he was sent flying back. Were it not for his enchanted jacket, her spell would have fractured his ribs.
ôAmateur,ö she commented idly, ôI don't even need Berserker to deal with you.ö
Her smile was predatory.
Archer had found a comfortable equilibrium. At fifteen meters, she was able to draw in Berserker so that he retained interest in fighting her, but was able to move back to thirty meters if things got dicey. Of course, that was not to say that they remained fifteen meters apart. Berserker would lunge in close and Archer would deal with him at melee range. However, she would then jump back and maintain a fifteen meter distance. It was a juggling game, a lethal one. However, the warlord had experience in such operations. Even though her role in this battle was, at its essence, a very expensive decoy, Archer was proud to do it, as the overall strategy was sound and would lead to victory.
ôI'll admit,ö said the huntress, ôThe trick with the exploding bottles was pretty good. The bear was a good piece of transfiguration. Your usage of the invisibility cloak and some sort of armor are pretty smart, too. You've got a good head on your shoulders, but you must understand why I am such a feared member of the Dark Lord's inner circle. There's a gulf between your experience and mine as wide as the Atlantic Ocean. That last sword attempt was pretty pathetic. I expected better. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, though.ö
Harry uneasily propped himself up on his elbows, struggling to stand. Another flick of her wrist and a wave of force slammed him down. He could feel ribs cracking. She wasn't halting his motion. Harry sadly had to admit that in his injured condition, it wasn't necessary. The wand was pointed at him without the emotion he would have expected from Bellatrix Lestrange. His first impression was wrong as she was showing an emotion, disappointment.
ôI expected so much more of you. You were able to go up against the reborn Dark Lord, go against me several times, and prevail over truly ridiculous circumstances. Every time we fight, I can see you become better. It's truly disappointing that you are defeated so easily.ö
He knew the spell was coming. She would cast the killing curse and it would all be over. Harry began the process of readying a command spell to call Archer to save his sorry ass.
Something then smashed down like comet. Dirt cratered around the entry. It was the beautiful knight of the sword, Saber. The invisible whirlwind was at the ready. The blade began its inexorable movement. The command spell on the palm of her hand, taking the form of a many-headed hydra, began to burn bright crimson. The air warped around her as Berserker appeared, slamming his fist into Saber's chin in a brutal uppercut.
The petit knight was sent flying up and through the parking complex. Brick and concrete and rebar were smashed apart. However, the knight returned, flying through the cloud her impact had created. For his insanity, Berserker was a good fighter. He was able to avoid the prana-empowered slashes of her sword.
ôArcher!ö called Harry, but she was already at his side.
ôYour orders?ö
ôWould you blow off her fucking head?ö
ôSaber or Lestrange?ö
ôLestrange, please.ö
Archer smiled viciously as the matchlock was leveled at Berserker's Master.
ôOne thing, Master,ö began Archer, ôDidn't we try the 'shoot her in the face' thing last time without much success.ö
ôGood evening, Archer and you too, Master of Archer,ö stated a deep baritone voice behind them.
Immediately, they whirled about to face this new person. They faced a knight of bronze. The shield was on the ground and lance held in a casual position over his shoulder.
ôWhat do you want, Lancer?ö asked Archer.
ôI was originally here for the battle, but Saber seems to have that in good hands. I figure that I might as well deliver the message personality. My Master is extending an invitation for you and your Master at the Nautilus Lounge tomorrow for six in the evening. Say you're with Kosmas.ö
After a quick look to Archer, Harry said, ôI'll think about it.ö
ôPlease get out of my way. I have a bounty to claim.ö
Archer grabbed Harry and backed up. Twin guns were pointed towards the bronze knight. The promise of a command spell was too enticing. The spear and shield were brought up in a guard.
ôHarry, move. Now.ö
Harry immediately ran, adjusting the invisibility cloak to provide concealment as he ran.
Archer fired her twin arquebus. Lead skittered off bronze. Dozens more shots were fired. Lancer could not charge forward. To do so would expose him to the gunfire. Even so, hot lead tore scraped his unarmored upper arms and thighs. Archer was, as he remembered, a tricky foe who would take advantage of the shields limitations with regards to vision. However, his shield offered a degree of immunity to the slashing attacks of her swords. Archer shifted to another position to the side to fight around the shield. Gleaming bronze brushed aside burning lead.
Unlike Archer, whose supply of ammunition was essentially unlimited, Lancer had to be considerably more conservative with regards to how he used his singular ranged weapon. Though not intended as such, the spear could indeed by hurled and he would then draw his sword. From the reading he had done, this would be like the tactics used by the Romans with regards to pila and gladius; however, he was loathe to do anything similar to that of the Etruscan upstarts who had the gall to claim that they were descended from Troy. In spite of it all, it was the best chance he had. Pin Archer with the spear and then finish her with the sword. She just needed to come a little closer.
For her part, Archer was not particularly focused on breaking through his defense. The constant crack of bullets was for the purpose of getting an idea as to how his mobility could be limited by bullets in order to ricochet a number of them into his back just like she did with Rider. An additional bullet would be aimed at Berserker's Master because it was Harry's last order to shoot her in the face. It was something she was more than happy to do.
Lancer was ready. Archer had approached within a zone of no return.
Archer was ready. She knew that Lancer could not evade.
One throw, easily smashing through the sound barrier.
Thirteen shots, six to confine, six to strike, and one for Bellatrix.
Unable to dodge, Lancer weathered the assault.
Unable to dodge, Archer twisted to avoid a mortal wound.
Six strikes slammed through the armor, embedding lead in the flesh of the bronze Lancer. The force knocked him down, slamming him into the ground like a child's plaything.
The spear ripped through the iron of her breastplate and into her side before impacting into the ground. The red Archer was pinned.
Harry was still in limbo, but when he saw a spear pierce through Archer, he knew something had to be done. It didn't matter. His injuries didn't matter. That Lancer was on a completely different level from him didn't matter. Lancer had harmed Archer. Even if Lancer had not been wounded as he was, Harry would have done it anyway. The wand was pointed in the face of the disoriented bronze Servant. It glowed and hummed with power as he pushed it beyond limits, synchronizing its pulse with that of his very heart and soul.
ôReducto!ö screamed Harry.
It should have blown his head apart like a ripe watermelon hit with a sledgehammer, but it didn't. The power jerked Lancer's head around, but there was no actual damage. A muscled arm, strong as iron, grabbed his throat and lifted him off the ground.
ôWrong move, kid.ö
The short sword was drawn from the sheath at his hip, ready to gut him like a fish.
The blade flew from his hands before embedding itself point-first in the concrete.
ôWrong move, Lancer.ö
A second bullet flew towards his hand, forcing him to release Harry.
Archer ripped the spear from her side and grabbed her Master, making sure that he hit the ground softly. Lancer grabbed his weapon and, after looking towards where Saber and Berserker fought, left.
After gasping for air, Harry groaned, ôSorry, Archer. I didn't do it.ö
ôIt's okay. We're both alive.ö
Harry looked down to see his hands stained crimson by the blood flowing from Archer's wound.
ôThink nothing of it. With your magical energy feeding me, I'll be better in no time.ö
ôDo you require assistance, Archer?ö came a cool, regal voice.
ôWhy not, Saber?ö replied Archer, trying hard to keep the pain out of her voice.
Gauntleted hand grasped gauntleted hand; gleaming steel entwined with blackened iron. The younger-looking girl pulled up her older-looking counterpart without any visible effort.
ôThanks, Saber. I suppose that Berserker and his Master left,ö said Archer.
ôThat would be correct. Do you require any additional assistance? My Master ordered me to assist and help the two of youö
ôNo. We can make our way back,ö responded Archer.
ôSaber, could you please tell Susan that I'm very thankful. I assume she's not right here,ö said Harry.
ôNo, I wanted her to be out of the chaos and danger of the battlefield. You, however, seem to have no problems,ö replied Saber.
ôWe're partners. It's something we agreed when I summoned her. It's not quite a master and servant relationship.ö
This brought a smile from Saber.
ôWell, I wish you a good journey.ö
ôYou too, Saber,ö returned Harry.
The knight in blue left. The red samurai groaned and slumped against him.
ôIs it over, now?ö asked Archer.
ôYeah, let's get home.ö
Home. That was the only real way to describe the place. Even though they had only inhabited it for a short time, it was home.
ôYou don't mind supporting me, do you?ö asked Archer, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.
ôNot in the least. Your legend was built upon the blood, sweat, and tears of the mere mortals like me. I'll help you just like them.ö
Archer gave him as much of a smile as she could after having ripped out a lance from her very own flesh to save him.
Slowly, they walked. Archer's blood dripped to the ground with every step, but she would not give up that easily. They made their way to the slab originally intended as a trap.
ôAre you up for Lancer's Master's dinner party?ö asked Harry.
ôAnd show my strength, absolutely,ö returned Archer, putting on a smiling face.
They stepped onto it and felt a pulling sensation centered around their midsections before they, disoriented and dizzy, found themselves at the place they now called home. Archer groaned and slumped against him. Harry walked her into the small space which they shared.
The armor was gone, and Archer examined the angry red gash in her side. It had stopped bleeding. Harry felt as exhausted, as if he had just ran a few miles. It wasn't just the fight, but the drain of supporting Archer.
ôDid you know that there's a way to give me some additional juice to speed up this whole healing process? I saw some magic users do it a few times in my day.ö
ôWhat is it, Archer?ö
ôC'mere.ö
Harry did, and she brought his ear directly next to her mouth as she whispered a few choice words. Harry immediately flushed bright red.
After composing himself, Harry gave his answer, ôI'm afraid not, Archer.ö
She smirked in spite of the pain, ôStop being such a prude, Master.ö
The way she said ôMasterö made him shiver.
ôIt seems to be getting a little warm in here; perhaps you should remove some of your clothes... Master.ö
There it was again.
ôUh, you should take a shower and keep yourself clean. Wouldn't want it getting infected or anything.ö
ôThen you should be there to wash your Servant's back, Master.ö
ôI think you can take care of yourself. You might want to heal in your spirit form, though.ö
Harry sighed and left the Servant to her own devices. She was becoming too good at pushing his buttons. He couldn't even tell if she was teasing or not. He set about to stripping off his battle gear. Then a cold shower could come, a very cold shower. A cold shower devoid of a naked Archer running hands along the smooth skin of her body. Harry sighed and set about to planning his next few steps in the war, distracting himself from any thoughts of his teasing Servant. Why couldn't she simply be serious after such a serious injury? But no, she felt such a need to tease him.
***
Bellatrix groaned as she turned around in her cot. That fight had been much tougher than she had let on to her competitors. Berserker was around in his spirit form, always watching so that she could sleep peacefully.
ôWhy hello there.ö
The wand was immediately in her hands as she searched for the person who had broken into her safehouse. It was warded to the best of her abilities, far in excess of any other Master in the war.
ôOver here.ö
There was a soft rustle of cloth as the cloaked visage of Caster was revealed. It all made sense. There was no reason for her wards to defeat a Heroic Spirit immortalized for his magical skill.
Berserker appeared, already aiming to pulp Caster's skull. With a burst of green fire, Caster appeared right behind Berserker. As if dealing with a child, Caster tapped his back. The elbow missed his face by millimeters.
ôMrs. Lestrange, would you kindly-ö
A fist smashed a hole into the wall.
ô-Call off your attack dog?ö
An upper cut forced him to teleport behind the already damaged wall.
ôI really just want-ö
Berserker smashed through the wall, fists firing like bullets at the elusive spellcaster.
ô-To talk with you-ö
It took all of Caster's effort to redirect the fist and step around Berserker.
ô-About killing Harry Potter.ö
ôStop, Berserker.ö
As her loyal dog, Berserker immediately stopped, his fist mere inches from Caster's nose. Using one finger, Caster moved the fist away from him. He pulled back the cowl of his cloak, which had fallen from the winds caused by the speed of Berserker's fists.
ôYou! You're-ö
Caster shushed her.
ôWould you not say that our goals are in alignment?ö
ôYes,ö admitted the witch, ôour goals do conveniently coincide.ö
ôThat's excellent.ö
ôI do have one question for you, Caster?ö
ôWhat would that be, my dear?ö
ôHow were you summoned? Something like you should be impossible.ö
ôIt was based upon a simple desire shared by myself and my Master.ö
ôAnd what would that desire be?ö
Caster transfigured some of the rubble into a chair, where he sat with his legs crossed in a figure-four American style.
ôQuite simple: to kill Harry Potter.ö
ôWould you be so kind as to enlighten me with regards to your motivations, Caster?ö
ôAgain, it is very simple. Because of him, my life is a living hell. This is my only chance for a respite and killing him will be satisfying, though it won't do anything.ö
ôI see. Your Master?ö
ôHer motivations are rather different from mine. For her, it is family business. Are you up to date on your medieval history, the magical kind?ö
ôI'm afraid not,ö admitted Bellatrix, shrugging her shoulders.
ôMy Master is a von Schaefer. They are a magical family from Germany. Traditionally, they are potters. Anyway, a certain branch of the family rebelled from the main family during the Thirty Years War, as they were Protestants in a primarily Catholic family. They moved over to Britain and formed a certain family, taking a name based upon their traditional occupation. I assume you are bright enough to connect the dots from here.ö
ôThey become the Potters which we know and loath.ö
ôCongratulations! Have a cookie.ö
Caster conjured up a steaming and delicious-looking chocolate chip cookie. Bellatrix was distinctly unimpressed. After shrugging, Caster ate the cookie.
ôIs the family dislike really that strong?ö
ôTo an extent, but you must realize how personally my little Master takes it. The eyes of the Wizarding World are focused upon one Harry Potter. Little Master thinks, and I have to agree, that she is the better at magic. She also thinks that the von Schaefer family is worth far more than the Potter family.ö
ôIs there anything else to it?ö
ôOh yes. If possible, she would like to him hers. Not in a creepy incest way, mind you.ö
ôYours was the mind stuck in the gutter.ö
ôMoving on. She also has a desire to break him and see him suffer.ö
ôNow that, Caster, I can get behind. However-ö
ôYou're going to refuse, aren't you?ö
ôYes. My lord is going to be the one to kill him, but I do have his permission to kill Potter if possible. I'm afraid your little Master will be stuck playing with her doll's.ö
ôA shame. You're really letting me down.ö
ôGoodbye, Caster.ö
ôC'mon, you know you want to.ö
ôGoodbye, Caster.ö
ôStop being no fun.ö
ôGoodbye, Caster.ö
ôDon't you know that all work and no play makes Bella a dull girl.ö
ôGoodbye, Caster.ö
ôGeez, why do you have to be so pushy?ö
ôGoodbye, Caster.ö
ôI'm leaving already.ö
ôThen leave!ö she snapped.
As he did before, Caster melted into the air. Then there was a burst of green fire. Silence came afterwards.
ôWhat the fuck is going on?ö asked Bellatrix to herself, receiving no answer.
Chapter 9
Night Fight
ô... So that's what Hill wants. He's offering a bounty for killing her.ö
ôWorks for me.ö
ôPasta is almost ready.ö
ôI noticed. It smells nice. Nothing like the pasta I'm familiar with, but that cream sauce -what did you call it again?-
ô-Alfredo.ö
ôYes, the alfredo smells delicious.ö
ôI was originally going to do a chicken parmesan, but I really didn't have the ingredients necessary for frying the chicken. That and I really didn't feel like making tomato sauce from scratch.ö
ôNo problem. I know you tried your hardest. It should be quite pleasant.ö
Harry chuckled.
ôIt was a bit tough to decide how to cook the chicken. I eventually just decided on olive oil and a few herbs. Thanks for the fresh ingredients, by the way.ö
ôNo problem. If you look in the right places, they can be found pretty cheap. Besides, I didn't trust that boxed stuff.ö
ôThanks. I prefer working with fresh ingredients. A lot more work, but it lets me micromanage to my heart's content.ö
ôIt seems as though you cook a lot.ö
ôA hobby. Originally, my aunt and uncle gave it to me as a chore. Burned myself a few times. At first, I really hated it. 'Woe is me, why must I do this bullshit.' Then I realized two important things around age ten. First, I got to eat what I wanted as much as I wanted within reasonable limits. Up until then, I would probably say that I was probably malnourished. Then, I started looking at cookbooks, talking with neighbors while doing chores for them during the summer. So, using the little money I got from chores, I began to go out and buy extra bits of ingredients whenever I went on shopping trips. It was pretty fun, I'll admit, staying up late just to sneak downstairs and try and cook something delicious. It's kinda' a girly hobby, but I enjoy cooking.ö
Archer gave him a small applause.
ôIf it means anything to you, I don't mind. I don't mind whipped house husbands.ö
Harry laughed. In fact, he laughed in a rather hard fashion.
ôDominance fetish? Why Archer!ö he joked.
ôOh you~ Besides, I know that you can do you share of ass-kicking.ö
The Master and Servant both smiled.
ôWell, would you like dinner to be served?ö
ôOf course, serve away.ö
He went off to the kitchen. Archer sat down at the table in her street clothes. Harry quickly came back with two plates of chicken breast on a bed of pasta. A small container of sauce was brought in addition.
ôI was trying to think of the best way to serve the sauce. I didn't want the noodles to get soggy or anything, and I didn't know when you would get back. I decided to simply drizzle it onto the food when I served it.ö
ôArcher get.ö
Harry smiled and began to drizzle the deliciously steaming sauce onto the food. He performed this first for Archer before then serving himself. Archer waited dutifully with a slight smile until he was seated before beginning to eat. She ate it with great gusto.
ôMy compliments to the chef,ö said the Servant.
ôYou are very welcome,ö replied Harry.
ôI'm thinking something Japanese tomorrow night. Perhaps you could give a few pointers.ö
ôSounds like fun.ö
ôWhat do you say to a little Berserker hunting?ö
ôAlso sounds like fun.ö
Harry went and began to gather his things. There was something new in his arsenal, a trenchcoat. It had been used by Dudley a few years ago when he had tried for an intimidating thug look. It had been rather distinctive and given him a little too much notoriety, so he threw it away. Harry, having some fondness for longcoats, saved it. Now, it was treated with spells to make it hard as steel. Hopefully, it would give some protection against the bullets of Rider's Master. Several bottles of the incendiary solution went into his pockets. The sword was attached to his belt, the jacket's length serving to hide the weapon. The wand lay in one of the pockets, ready for quick access.
ôSo,ö he said, ôHow about we light up the London night.ö
There was an ambitious gleam in his eyes that had not been there a mere month before.
ôLet's raise hell.ö
There was an ambitious gleam in her eyes that put his to shame.
***
In the dimly lit church, two men spoke. One was the aged but firm Father Nathan Hill. The second was a younger man with handsome dark hair in a grey, fitted Italian suit.
ôCan you do this, Father?ö
ôOf course I can. I know everything regarding the Grail War. I know where you live.ö
ôThank you. I understand that giving dinner invitations is not exactly standard operating practice.ö
ôDo you do this to hide your weakness or conceal your strength?ö
ôWhat!ö
ôI have a very good idea with regards to the identity of Lancer, Nikolai. If my guess is correct, you either have a very weak Noble Phantasm, given that there are no real legendary arms, armaments or skills for this person. On the other hand, you might have a very strong Servant with a Noble Phantasm fit to fight Saber on her own ground.ö
The young man, Nikolai, chuckled.
ôI'd rather not say.ö
ôSuit yourself. I'll be watching.ö
ôSee you later, Father!ö
***
Archer and Harry sat on the roof of an abandoned parking complex. Several stories of concrete rose in a monument to the automobile and capitalistic consumerism. It was well past nightfall by now. Both had a hot meal in their stomachs. They sat together, laying back and watching the stars as best they could through the clouds and light pollution
ôWhat's the plan, Master?ö asked Archer.
ôShe hates my guts -a feeling that is obviously mutual. If I make myself known, she should come like a moth to flames. Then, I need you to keep Berserker unable from assisting his Master. I'm playing dirty. Do you know something of portkeys?ö
ôYes. What about them?ö
ôI'll use my molotov cocktails to herd her into a portkey which will deposit her next to our residence. Then, I hit her with the Pimp Hand of God-ö
ô-Dick in the Sky. Also, you changed it-ö
ô-Whatever. Anyway, Berserker tends to be a power-hungry Servant. He should disappear pretty quickly after his Master dies.ö
ôI like it, but Berserker gave Saber some trouble. I'm not sure I can hold him off long enough for you to administer the Dick in the Sky.ö
ôWorst comes to worst, we use the portkey to escape. Does that sound good? Besides, I won't hesitate to use a command seal if necessary.ö
ôAlright. How do you plan to get her attention?ö
ôI'm going to put up an image of the Death Eater insignia being swallowed by a phoenix. Something like that should rile her up sufficiently. If more Death Eaters come, well, they will be fodder for the cannons.ö
Archer laughed, starting softly but building up to a loud crescendo.
ôThat they will. I'll show them how Heroic Spirits are on a completely different level from mere mortals.ö
ôI thought you were a partner to a certain 'mere mortal' as you put it?ö
ôYou're an exception. Besides, you might as well be cannon fodder against me. It would be along the lines of 'Bang! You're dead!'ö
Harry laughed.
ôWhat say we get our party started?ö
ôAbsolutely.ö
Harry stood up and cast the spell. A spark went up like a flare from a gun before exploding like a firework. Sparks flew into position, forming the rather inflammatory image. Harry chuckled and swung the invisibility cloak onto his shoulders. It was an absurdly useful advantage, one which only a fool would waste. It would not fool Archer, given that she was too sharp to be fooled by such petty tricks. Now, it was simply time to wait and watch the fish take the bait.
They did have to wait long. Berserker and Bellatrix soon arrived. Archer sat casually, legs crossed and eating an apple.
ôGood evening,ö said the scarlet-clad samurai, ôI'm glad you got the invitation.ö
ôI'm going to kill you,ö said Bellatrix very plainly, ôOr maybe not. Maybe I'll have Berserker violate you before you die.ö
ôThat would imply a degree of intelligence necessary to catch me, something which I am certain the mad Servant lacks.ö
The evil witch grit her teeth.
ôKill her, Berserker.ö
The mad priest, Raputin, rushed forward. The twin guns were already in Archer's hands and firing. Hot lead was spat from cold steel. Berserker rushed forward as it is the only thing he can do. His weapons are his fists; in order to use his fists, Berserker must close to point-blank range with Archer. Archer was, by far, the more versatile servant. Primarily, she used twin arquebuses from range, but she also was able to use the daishou pair of katana and wakizashi. For a fight such as this, it was in the best interests of Archer to keep the distance. Ten meters could be crossed in the blink of an eye, so Archer kept a distance of thirty.
Already, the priest has been hit several times and is bleeding. How can primitive matchlocks do what modern submachine guns cannot? This pair of matchlocks are Noble Phantasms, legendary weapons to whom the laws that govern their modern descendants do not apply. An icy white aura surrounds the mad Servant, reinvigorating him and giving greater strength.
ôAh,ö said Archer, ôI forgot about that pesky Noble Phantasm of yours.ö
Archer knew that she faced a dilemma; the more she hit Berserker, the more powerful he would become. Berserker was also too stupid to try and dodge, so she could not confine him with gunfire. Hand-to-hand combat was simply a poor choice. She needed to fight him without actually harming him as that would cause his Noble Phantasm to activate.
Archer smiled. This was going to be fun.
Harry withdrew a bottle of the incendiary potion. All he had to do was get her to one square of concrete to win. He'd let the blood-bound defenses take care of the rest. Taking aim, he chucked the bottle just behind her. If she burned to death, that worked too.
She caught sight of the spinning bottle and blasted it in midair with an explosive spell. A large fireball bloomed on the battlefield. Her eyes snapped to his location. It made sense; an invisibility cloak couldn't hide the shadow cast on the ground. A barrage of explosive spells shattered concrete and cratered dirt.
Harry dove to the ground, attempting to minimize his shadow. The wand was out, readied almost like a pistol. There was no way he could win in a straight magic duel. He had to play sneaky and be creative. It was time for transfiguration exploitation. He tapped the earth, muttering an incantation. Several large spikes of hardened earth rose up like the writhing tentacles of an unspeakable eldritch horror. She tapdanced around the lancing thrusts before bring her wand to bear and destroying them with explosive spellfire.
Harry was already moving, a pair of bottles in hand. He had enchanted them with a ôsafetyö in that they had a durability charm which prevented self-immolation should he fall or hit a hard surface. However, they became ôliveö once he had them in his hands. Bellatrix was caught off-guard by the explosive, but managed to escape from its deadly blast. It was working. He was herding her where he wanted her to go. Only fifteen more meters.
How long would that take?
How long could Archer hold off Berserker?
Would anyone else get involved?
What will she do next?
These were the questions that flitted through his head before he shook them off. Though the entire situation needed to be taken into account, he could pay with his life if he became distracted by thoughts outside of his goal.
Another bottle was swiftly hurled, bursting into a hellish fireball. The heat and light were so great that Harry had to shield his eyes. Surely nothing could survive such a blazing inferno? She did, of course, with spells meant to deal with witch burnings. Harry cursed. He only used three of the eight before they had been neutralized. Then there was the matter of which spell she was using. One had a duration of five minutes, becoming less effective over time. The other relied on the caster's continued concentration. Harry knew that he needed to devise countermeasures for both.
A little more transfiguration abuse was necessary. Air to chlorine gas was interesting, but had enormous potential to backfire. Something with firepower was necessary. Harry thought about the scariest and most dangerous animal possible. In spite of the dragons he had faced, his immediate thought was a bear. He then transfigured the ground into large bear whose growling visage would put fear into the hearts of all but the hardiest.
While the stone bear was charging, Harry was sneaking around for a cheap shot. When all else fails, hit it with your sword. Sometimes, simple brute force was all that was necessary. Besides, there was something simply more visceral and satisfying about the brutality of hand-to-hand combat.
An Avada Kedavra shattered the magic holding the bear together. Harry was close, perhaps fifteen paces from her. Idly, she pointed a finger in his direction and he was sent flying back. Were it not for his enchanted jacket, her spell would have fractured his ribs.
ôAmateur,ö she commented idly, ôI don't even need Berserker to deal with you.ö
Her smile was predatory.
Archer had found a comfortable equilibrium. At fifteen meters, she was able to draw in Berserker so that he retained interest in fighting her, but was able to move back to thirty meters if things got dicey. Of course, that was not to say that they remained fifteen meters apart. Berserker would lunge in close and Archer would deal with him at melee range. However, she would then jump back and maintain a fifteen meter distance. It was a juggling game, a lethal one. However, the warlord had experience in such operations. Even though her role in this battle was, at its essence, a very expensive decoy, Archer was proud to do it, as the overall strategy was sound and would lead to victory.
ôI'll admit,ö said the huntress, ôThe trick with the exploding bottles was pretty good. The bear was a good piece of transfiguration. Your usage of the invisibility cloak and some sort of armor are pretty smart, too. You've got a good head on your shoulders, but you must understand why I am such a feared member of the Dark Lord's inner circle. There's a gulf between your experience and mine as wide as the Atlantic Ocean. That last sword attempt was pretty pathetic. I expected better. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, though.ö
Harry uneasily propped himself up on his elbows, struggling to stand. Another flick of her wrist and a wave of force slammed him down. He could feel ribs cracking. She wasn't halting his motion. Harry sadly had to admit that in his injured condition, it wasn't necessary. The wand was pointed at him without the emotion he would have expected from Bellatrix Lestrange. His first impression was wrong as she was showing an emotion, disappointment.
ôI expected so much more of you. You were able to go up against the reborn Dark Lord, go against me several times, and prevail over truly ridiculous circumstances. Every time we fight, I can see you become better. It's truly disappointing that you are defeated so easily.ö
He knew the spell was coming. She would cast the killing curse and it would all be over. Harry began the process of readying a command spell to call Archer to save his sorry ass.
Something then smashed down like comet. Dirt cratered around the entry. It was the beautiful knight of the sword, Saber. The invisible whirlwind was at the ready. The blade began its inexorable movement. The command spell on the palm of her hand, taking the form of a many-headed hydra, began to burn bright crimson. The air warped around her as Berserker appeared, slamming his fist into Saber's chin in a brutal uppercut.
The petit knight was sent flying up and through the parking complex. Brick and concrete and rebar were smashed apart. However, the knight returned, flying through the cloud her impact had created. For his insanity, Berserker was a good fighter. He was able to avoid the prana-empowered slashes of her sword.
ôArcher!ö called Harry, but she was already at his side.
ôYour orders?ö
ôWould you blow off her fucking head?ö
ôSaber or Lestrange?ö
ôLestrange, please.ö
Archer smiled viciously as the matchlock was leveled at Berserker's Master.
ôOne thing, Master,ö began Archer, ôDidn't we try the 'shoot her in the face' thing last time without much success.ö
ôGood evening, Archer and you too, Master of Archer,ö stated a deep baritone voice behind them.
Immediately, they whirled about to face this new person. They faced a knight of bronze. The shield was on the ground and lance held in a casual position over his shoulder.
ôWhat do you want, Lancer?ö asked Archer.
ôI was originally here for the battle, but Saber seems to have that in good hands. I figure that I might as well deliver the message personality. My Master is extending an invitation for you and your Master at the Nautilus Lounge tomorrow for six in the evening. Say you're with Kosmas.ö
After a quick look to Archer, Harry said, ôI'll think about it.ö
ôPlease get out of my way. I have a bounty to claim.ö
Archer grabbed Harry and backed up. Twin guns were pointed towards the bronze knight. The promise of a command spell was too enticing. The spear and shield were brought up in a guard.
ôHarry, move. Now.ö
Harry immediately ran, adjusting the invisibility cloak to provide concealment as he ran.
Archer fired her twin arquebus. Lead skittered off bronze. Dozens more shots were fired. Lancer could not charge forward. To do so would expose him to the gunfire. Even so, hot lead tore scraped his unarmored upper arms and thighs. Archer was, as he remembered, a tricky foe who would take advantage of the shields limitations with regards to vision. However, his shield offered a degree of immunity to the slashing attacks of her swords. Archer shifted to another position to the side to fight around the shield. Gleaming bronze brushed aside burning lead.
Unlike Archer, whose supply of ammunition was essentially unlimited, Lancer had to be considerably more conservative with regards to how he used his singular ranged weapon. Though not intended as such, the spear could indeed by hurled and he would then draw his sword. From the reading he had done, this would be like the tactics used by the Romans with regards to pila and gladius; however, he was loathe to do anything similar to that of the Etruscan upstarts who had the gall to claim that they were descended from Troy. In spite of it all, it was the best chance he had. Pin Archer with the spear and then finish her with the sword. She just needed to come a little closer.
For her part, Archer was not particularly focused on breaking through his defense. The constant crack of bullets was for the purpose of getting an idea as to how his mobility could be limited by bullets in order to ricochet a number of them into his back just like she did with Rider. An additional bullet would be aimed at Berserker's Master because it was Harry's last order to shoot her in the face. It was something she was more than happy to do.
Lancer was ready. Archer had approached within a zone of no return.
Archer was ready. She knew that Lancer could not evade.
One throw, easily smashing through the sound barrier.
Thirteen shots, six to confine, six to strike, and one for Bellatrix.
Unable to dodge, Lancer weathered the assault.
Unable to dodge, Archer twisted to avoid a mortal wound.
Six strikes slammed through the armor, embedding lead in the flesh of the bronze Lancer. The force knocked him down, slamming him into the ground like a child's plaything.
The spear ripped through the iron of her breastplate and into her side before impacting into the ground. The red Archer was pinned.
Harry was still in limbo, but when he saw a spear pierce through Archer, he knew something had to be done. It didn't matter. His injuries didn't matter. That Lancer was on a completely different level from him didn't matter. Lancer had harmed Archer. Even if Lancer had not been wounded as he was, Harry would have done it anyway. The wand was pointed in the face of the disoriented bronze Servant. It glowed and hummed with power as he pushed it beyond limits, synchronizing its pulse with that of his very heart and soul.
ôReducto!ö screamed Harry.
It should have blown his head apart like a ripe watermelon hit with a sledgehammer, but it didn't. The power jerked Lancer's head around, but there was no actual damage. A muscled arm, strong as iron, grabbed his throat and lifted him off the ground.
ôWrong move, kid.ö
The short sword was drawn from the sheath at his hip, ready to gut him like a fish.
The blade flew from his hands before embedding itself point-first in the concrete.
ôWrong move, Lancer.ö
A second bullet flew towards his hand, forcing him to release Harry.
Archer ripped the spear from her side and grabbed her Master, making sure that he hit the ground softly. Lancer grabbed his weapon and, after looking towards where Saber and Berserker fought, left.
After gasping for air, Harry groaned, ôSorry, Archer. I didn't do it.ö
ôIt's okay. We're both alive.ö
Harry looked down to see his hands stained crimson by the blood flowing from Archer's wound.
ôThink nothing of it. With your magical energy feeding me, I'll be better in no time.ö
ôDo you require assistance, Archer?ö came a cool, regal voice.
ôWhy not, Saber?ö replied Archer, trying hard to keep the pain out of her voice.
Gauntleted hand grasped gauntleted hand; gleaming steel entwined with blackened iron. The younger-looking girl pulled up her older-looking counterpart without any visible effort.
ôThanks, Saber. I suppose that Berserker and his Master left,ö said Archer.
ôThat would be correct. Do you require any additional assistance? My Master ordered me to assist and help the two of youö
ôNo. We can make our way back,ö responded Archer.
ôSaber, could you please tell Susan that I'm very thankful. I assume she's not right here,ö said Harry.
ôNo, I wanted her to be out of the chaos and danger of the battlefield. You, however, seem to have no problems,ö replied Saber.
ôWe're partners. It's something we agreed when I summoned her. It's not quite a master and servant relationship.ö
This brought a smile from Saber.
ôWell, I wish you a good journey.ö
ôYou too, Saber,ö returned Harry.
The knight in blue left. The red samurai groaned and slumped against him.
ôIs it over, now?ö asked Archer.
ôYeah, let's get home.ö
Home. That was the only real way to describe the place. Even though they had only inhabited it for a short time, it was home.
ôYou don't mind supporting me, do you?ö asked Archer, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.
ôNot in the least. Your legend was built upon the blood, sweat, and tears of the mere mortals like me. I'll help you just like them.ö
Archer gave him as much of a smile as she could after having ripped out a lance from her very own flesh to save him.
Slowly, they walked. Archer's blood dripped to the ground with every step, but she would not give up that easily. They made their way to the slab originally intended as a trap.
ôAre you up for Lancer's Master's dinner party?ö asked Harry.
ôAnd show my strength, absolutely,ö returned Archer, putting on a smiling face.
They stepped onto it and felt a pulling sensation centered around their midsections before they, disoriented and dizzy, found themselves at the place they now called home. Archer groaned and slumped against him. Harry walked her into the small space which they shared.
The armor was gone, and Archer examined the angry red gash in her side. It had stopped bleeding. Harry felt as exhausted, as if he had just ran a few miles. It wasn't just the fight, but the drain of supporting Archer.
ôDid you know that there's a way to give me some additional juice to speed up this whole healing process? I saw some magic users do it a few times in my day.ö
ôWhat is it, Archer?ö
ôC'mere.ö
Harry did, and she brought his ear directly next to her mouth as she whispered a few choice words. Harry immediately flushed bright red.
After composing himself, Harry gave his answer, ôI'm afraid not, Archer.ö
She smirked in spite of the pain, ôStop being such a prude, Master.ö
The way she said ôMasterö made him shiver.
ôIt seems to be getting a little warm in here; perhaps you should remove some of your clothes... Master.ö
There it was again.
ôUh, you should take a shower and keep yourself clean. Wouldn't want it getting infected or anything.ö
ôThen you should be there to wash your Servant's back, Master.ö
ôI think you can take care of yourself. You might want to heal in your spirit form, though.ö
Harry sighed and left the Servant to her own devices. She was becoming too good at pushing his buttons. He couldn't even tell if she was teasing or not. He set about to stripping off his battle gear. Then a cold shower could come, a very cold shower. A cold shower devoid of a naked Archer running hands along the smooth skin of her body. Harry sighed and set about to planning his next few steps in the war, distracting himself from any thoughts of his teasing Servant. Why couldn't she simply be serious after such a serious injury? But no, she felt such a need to tease him.
***
Bellatrix groaned as she turned around in her cot. That fight had been much tougher than she had let on to her competitors. Berserker was around in his spirit form, always watching so that she could sleep peacefully.
ôWhy hello there.ö
The wand was immediately in her hands as she searched for the person who had broken into her safehouse. It was warded to the best of her abilities, far in excess of any other Master in the war.
ôOver here.ö
There was a soft rustle of cloth as the cloaked visage of Caster was revealed. It all made sense. There was no reason for her wards to defeat a Heroic Spirit immortalized for his magical skill.
Berserker appeared, already aiming to pulp Caster's skull. With a burst of green fire, Caster appeared right behind Berserker. As if dealing with a child, Caster tapped his back. The elbow missed his face by millimeters.
ôMrs. Lestrange, would you kindly-ö
A fist smashed a hole into the wall.
ô-Call off your attack dog?ö
An upper cut forced him to teleport behind the already damaged wall.
ôI really just want-ö
Berserker smashed through the wall, fists firing like bullets at the elusive spellcaster.
ô-To talk with you-ö
It took all of Caster's effort to redirect the fist and step around Berserker.
ô-About killing Harry Potter.ö
ôStop, Berserker.ö
As her loyal dog, Berserker immediately stopped, his fist mere inches from Caster's nose. Using one finger, Caster moved the fist away from him. He pulled back the cowl of his cloak, which had fallen from the winds caused by the speed of Berserker's fists.
ôYou! You're-ö
Caster shushed her.
ôWould you not say that our goals are in alignment?ö
ôYes,ö admitted the witch, ôour goals do conveniently coincide.ö
ôThat's excellent.ö
ôI do have one question for you, Caster?ö
ôWhat would that be, my dear?ö
ôHow were you summoned? Something like you should be impossible.ö
ôIt was based upon a simple desire shared by myself and my Master.ö
ôAnd what would that desire be?ö
Caster transfigured some of the rubble into a chair, where he sat with his legs crossed in a figure-four American style.
ôQuite simple: to kill Harry Potter.ö
ôWould you be so kind as to enlighten me with regards to your motivations, Caster?ö
ôAgain, it is very simple. Because of him, my life is a living hell. This is my only chance for a respite and killing him will be satisfying, though it won't do anything.ö
ôI see. Your Master?ö
ôHer motivations are rather different from mine. For her, it is family business. Are you up to date on your medieval history, the magical kind?ö
ôI'm afraid not,ö admitted Bellatrix, shrugging her shoulders.
ôMy Master is a von Schaefer. They are a magical family from Germany. Traditionally, they are potters. Anyway, a certain branch of the family rebelled from the main family during the Thirty Years War, as they were Protestants in a primarily Catholic family. They moved over to Britain and formed a certain family, taking a name based upon their traditional occupation. I assume you are bright enough to connect the dots from here.ö
ôThey become the Potters which we know and loath.ö
ôCongratulations! Have a cookie.ö
Caster conjured up a steaming and delicious-looking chocolate chip cookie. Bellatrix was distinctly unimpressed. After shrugging, Caster ate the cookie.
ôIs the family dislike really that strong?ö
ôTo an extent, but you must realize how personally my little Master takes it. The eyes of the Wizarding World are focused upon one Harry Potter. Little Master thinks, and I have to agree, that she is the better at magic. She also thinks that the von Schaefer family is worth far more than the Potter family.ö
ôIs there anything else to it?ö
ôOh yes. If possible, she would like to him hers. Not in a creepy incest way, mind you.ö
ôYours was the mind stuck in the gutter.ö
ôMoving on. She also has a desire to break him and see him suffer.ö
ôNow that, Caster, I can get behind. However-ö
ôYou're going to refuse, aren't you?ö
ôYes. My lord is going to be the one to kill him, but I do have his permission to kill Potter if possible. I'm afraid your little Master will be stuck playing with her doll's.ö
ôA shame. You're really letting me down.ö
ôGoodbye, Caster.ö
ôC'mon, you know you want to.ö
ôGoodbye, Caster.ö
ôStop being no fun.ö
ôGoodbye, Caster.ö
ôDon't you know that all work and no play makes Bella a dull girl.ö
ôGoodbye, Caster.ö
ôGeez, why do you have to be so pushy?ö
ôGoodbye, Caster.ö
ôI'm leaving already.ö
ôThen leave!ö she snapped.
As he did before, Caster melted into the air. Then there was a burst of green fire. Silence came afterwards.
ôWhat the fuck is going on?ö asked Bellatrix to herself, receiving no answer.
I apologize in advance for any typos/spelling errors/whatever I missed. Point them out and I will fix them.
Chapter 10
Evening Meal
ôSo, shopping?ö asked Archer.
ôYes, shopping,ö replied Harry.
Harry looked up from his pancakes.
ôThese are really tasty, you know. Maybe you could become a chef so legendary that you could become a Heroic Spirit. That would be awesome,ö said Archer, stuffing the syrup soaked food item into her mouth.
ôThanks, Archer.ö
ôAnything in particular that you want?ö
Harry laughed, ôMe, I'm going to get a blazer and bowtie. I already have the trousers for it. What do you want?ö
ôA nice dress with heels. It would be red, of course. I'm thinking backless. I know you like my sexy back; I like my sexy back.ö
ôBaby got back,ö commented Harry idly, drinking his morning tea. By now, he was more or less inured to her teasing. It was fun, and it helped make her something more than a distant heroic figure. Instead, she became a real person with whom he could interact and have fun. Speaking of fun, he made a mental note to never agree to strip poker with Archer. He knew that he would end up sleeping naked on the couch.
Once breakfast was finished, Harry cleaned up as it was his kitchen, not Archer's. Archer in turn, changed over into her street clothes.
ôWait,ö asked Archer, ôDon't you already have a tie?ö
ôI do,ö he answered, laughing, ôbut it's a school tie. I'd prefer a black bowtie with this. Maybe a waistcoat so I can look somewhat dignified if I have to remove my jacket.ö
ôI'll make sure you don't pick out anything stupid-looking.ö
ôI picked out what you're wearing right now. I would say that I have a modicum of sensibility when it comes to clothing.ö
ôYou're so sweet. You're also getting me a nice dress. For a hero of my status, it must be very nice.ö
ôOf course, Archer.ö
Harry smiled, and Archer grinned back.
ôShall we go, Harry?ö asked Archer.
ôOh shit, another trip to the bank. I hope I don't have to go again.ö
ôDeal with it.ö
ôYou seem pretty chipper for someone who was impaled by a spear just last night.ö
ôYou provide a luxurious amount of magical power for me. It's really quite pleasant, like a fine sake.ö
ôI'm glad you think of me like booze.ö
ôNot booze, there is a difference. Booze would just be what you drink to inebriate yourself. A fine drink is one that can be savored and enjoyed. Your power isn't just something which I simply take in because I need it to remain in this world; it' something I enjoy taking in.ö
ôThanks Archer.ö
***
Archer and Harry found themselves within a formal clothing store. In this case, they were looking for a dress for Archer first because Harry already had much of what he would need for such an occasion. There were just a few additional things he would like. In this case, he was hoping for a bowtie and waistcoat.
ôHow does this one look?ö asked Archer, coming out of the changing room.
There were several requirements for Archer's dress, as put down by the Servant herself. First was color; it must be red. Second was the pricetag; thankfully, she did want to bankrupt him. Third was that it had to look nice, but in Harry's opinion, all of them looked nice on her.
The first had been an ankle-length, strapless dress. Archer liked it, especially with heels but had found the way it clung to her to be uncomfortable. Harry just thought that it poorly accentuated her bust.
The next had broken the color requirement, being a little black dress. It had been a polite suggestion by Harry, since the knee length dress seemed like something that Archer would like as well as accentuate her own beauty. He had to acknowledge that Archer was quite pretty, stunning actually. However, Archer did not like it. That was the end of that.
ôIs that who I think it is, Archer?ö
Archer whipped her head around.
ôIndeed. The silver knight herself has graced us with her appearance.ö
ôI thought you actually liked Saber.ö
ôI do actually, but since we are well into the hostilities of the War, I am somewhat obligated to be hostile.ö
ôSo you weren't serious?ö
ôCorrect. I actually do like Saber, but I was making an obtuse comment because I can.ö
ôYou are really strange. I honestly hope all the other Servants are as weird as you.ö
ôOf course, Master.ö
ôLet's say hello. It's only polite.ö
ôFine by me. It looks as though they're out doing the same thing we are.ö
ôLancer?ö
ôProbably.ö
ôI wonder who else was invited.ö
Harry waved, smiling brightly. Saber immediately picked up on this and snapped to attention before relaxing, but not entirely, upon seeing Harry's non-threating expression.
ôHow do you do?ö she asks, greeting.
ôQuite well. What brings you and -I assume- your Master here, Saber?ö
ôAn invitation. Something more formal in my size was required and something more mundane was what my Master required.ö
ôLancer and his Master, right?ö
ôCorrect, Harry Potter.
ôSame reason here.ö
ôHarry?ö
It was Susan.
ôHello. Nice to see you too.ö
Things went at a leisurely pace, Harry feeling somewhat left out as the only guy. Thankfully, Archer's fun personality more than made up for it. With them, Archer was able to quickly find a dress that suited her tastes. The two pairs left on friendlier terms. Susan was someone who registered in the periphery of his mind, but he had to admit that she was an interesting person. And she saw Harry Potter, not the Boy-Who-Lived. If anything, he was grateful for the opportunity the Grail War offered in being able to know her better.
ôThat was a pleasant way to spend a morning. Thanks for the company,ö said Harry, waving goodbye. Archer gave a pleasant smile.
ôWe'll see you later, Harry. You too, Archer.ö
***
ôDamn, it's pretty cold.ö
Breath frosts in the air.
ôI understand, Harry. However, as I am a magical construct, I am not bound by your petty 'temperatures.'ö
ôThis sort of weather in summer is ridiculous. It hasn't been this cold any other night.ö
ôI don't care. Besides, you like to see me in this dress. A coat would simply ruin it.ö
ôI must agree with your impeccable logic, Archer.ö
She had managed to find a dress. In this case, a beautiful red dress made from a smooth, silky material. The pricetag was the only indication that it was not actual silk. The bright scarlet was but a shade lighter than that of her armor. The halter top did indeed, as Archer put it so eloquently, show off her back. That was not all it showed off, though. Slits in the dress showed off her toned legs which gave off a predatory air with every step.
ôYou sure about this, Archer? I could do it better and faster than this.ö
ôWhat you take for granted, I enjoy. It's not like you have a car.ö
ôFine.ö
Harry called a taxi on a pay phone. It arrived within fifteen minutes. A small wad of bills and directions were thrust into the driver's hands. Archer and Harry slid in, Archer with a grace he did not know that she possessed.
ôThe Nautilus Lounge, seriously?ö asked the driver.
ôIt's on invitation. We have a rich friend throwing a dinner party,ö replied Harry.
ôAin't that how it always goes.ö
ôYup. Wouldn't be going there otherwise.ö
ôI see. Well, have a good time.ö
The ride continues in silence. Archer feigns the actions of vapid eye candy. She isn't a good actor is the illusion is immediately dispelled in her eyes. They are too clever, too focused, too smart, too driven. He can't help but smile at his Servant; he wouldn't have it any other way.
ôHere you are, the Nautilus Lounge. Best of luck.ö
ôThank you.ö
Harry and Archer both stepped out. The Nautilus Lounge, an expensive and trendy restaurant, serving expensive seafood. There was an enclosed balcony for a riverside view. Low, shifting lights in greens, purples, and blues gave a submarine feel. It suited the Jules Verne theme of the restaurant. Escorting Archer, Harry walked up to the front desk.
ôExcuse me, we're here with Kosmas.ö
The lady at the desk turned to fierce-looking man with a dark, curly beard. In spite of his warlike appearance, he was well dressed in a pinstriped suit with a crimson tie. He had a deep Mediterannean tan. If anything, he looked like a Greek statue given the breath of life.
ôThey are,ö confirmed the man before turning to Harry and Archer, ôPlease follow me.ö
Archer arched an eyebrow, ôLancer?ö
ôIndeed. I must say that that dress does look wonderful on you, Archer.ö
ôThe suit was not what I expected, but it is quite nice,ö complimented Archer.
ôThe same red as your cloak?ö asked Harry.
ôOf course,ö replied Lancer, smiling.
It was such a strange thing, such civility after a life-or-death battle. But such was the Grail War. As Lancer maneuvered through the crowds up to an upstairs lounge, Harry and Archer were able to take in the actual restaurant, rather than mere accounts of it. The inside was a bizarre combination of Victorian architecture with elements of art nouveau's sweeping curves and art deco's ornate and streamlined but solid features. Of course, it resembled the interior of a submarine in no way. The brass and bronze highlighted the nautical theme. Everywhere, at any given point in the restaurant was something interesting. The quality of the food served enhanced the atmosphere and cleverly fit in with the Jules Verne theme.
The lounge, surprisingly, had no window. Instead, there was a table set for eight. Sitting at the head was a man who's appearance could be described very simply: rich playboy. From the high quality of his grey Italian suit to his unbuttoned silk shirt and shined leather shoes, his appearance screamed ôI'm a rich playboy.ö
ôNikolai Kosmas, a pleasure to meet you in person Mr. Potter. You too, Archer.ö
ôOf course,ö replied Harry. Archer gave a slight smile and raised eyebrow.
Harry extended his hand and Kosmas took it and smiled. His handshake was firm and his grin sharklike. In spite of it, he felt like a decent guy.
ôSo, I assume four more are going to arrive.ö
ôYou're a little early, actually.ö
ôBetter that than late.ö
Kosmas chuckles.
ôSo, what are you going to have tonight? I'm paying.ö
Harry took his seat and looked at the menu. Archer sat next to him.
ôI'm thinking of the house salad to start and the filet mignon and shrimp as my entree. If you've been here before, I'm curious as to your own recommendations.ö
Nikolai smiled and replied, ôI have, in fact. That is a nice choice.ö
ôI'm leaning towards the rack of lamb myself,ö said Archer.
ôA big eater?ö inquired Kosmas with a pleasant smile.
ôI didn't grow to become the hero I am by some sort of 'dieting.'ö
Archer grinned a silly grin.
ôThat's the spirit,ö said Nikolai, giving a cheesy thumbs-up.
ôWho else is coming, might I ask?ö inquired Harry.
ôSaber and her Master and Rider and his Master.ö
ôI see. Any particular reason?ö
ôBerserker.ö
Harry nodded, ôOf course.ö
ôAnd Lancer saw something in all of these Servants. That spark of leadership and confidence so familiar to him. The Masters were common courtesy on my part.ö
ôInteresting accent you have, there. It's not much, but your English sounds a bit off.ö
Nikolai laughed, ôI am a Greek. I suppose it is not the most common of accents. In spite of coming here for my education, nothing I do could get rid of that bit of accent.ö
Another two arrived. One was bulky with a thick, drooping moustache. His features marked him as Rider, the Mongol. His dark hair was wild and untamed. He frowned upon seeing Archer but remained silent. Beside Rider was a woman. She was dressed in a military-style suit in an olive green. It probably was a part of a military uniform but there were no ranks attached to the normal places. The cut was wrong, though, for a uniform. It had been custom tailored for looking nice. Her tie was a formal black. She looked Chinese and her hair was drawn up into a neat ponytail. Brown eyes frigid as a glacier observed the room and its inhabitants.
The man stepped forward to shake Kosmas's hand.
ôRider,ö he said gruffly.
ôNikolai Kosmas, a pleasure to meet you. As for you...ö he said, turning to the Master.
ôMeiling Huang,ö she said curtly, taking his hand and giving a handshake that looked painful.
Archer was unable to hide a small frown of displeasure. Her much greater internal distaste was apparent to Harry through their link. Harry was not the most amiable either.
ôBitch tried to shoot me!ö he communicated.
ôI know. Were it not in the interest of this continued spirit of parley, I would be shooting her in the face right now. Repeatedly shooting her in the face,ö returned Archer, ôBesides, she's Chinese. What good things ever came out of their?ö
ôYour writing system,ö offered Harry.
ôRight. Moving on.ö
Harry took a look at Rider's Master. She didn't seem very fond of Archer either.
ôSo, what do you want, Master of Lancer?ö she asked, refusing to acknowledge him as anything but a competitor to be brutally murdered. For all the empathy in her eyes, he might as well have been a piece of meat. Kosmas ignored it. The shark behind his eyes looked the abyss in the eye and smiled back.
ôTo talk and enjoy fine food. Would that be too much to ask for, Meiling Huang?ö
ôNot at all. I would assume you wish for a cooperative effort against Berserker.ö
ôCorrect. As for now, I suggest looking at the menu as we wait for our final two guests. ö
Harry leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow.
Small talk began to be made. It was boring mundane subjects like weather.
ôSo, what does 'the Harry Potter' do when you aren't off fighting Grail Wars?ö asked Kosmas.
ôStudying and chores. Though I do enjoy making a good meal and can make a garden go from crappy to nice,ö replied Harry.
ôA gourmet, are you?ö inquired Kosmas with a friendly, disarming smile.
ôI don't just appreciate the food, I make the food. Therein lies the distinction.ö
ôI would say that the fruits of his kitchen labor are well appreciated. Besides, I think my Master's place is in the kitchen. And, thankfully, he is not so boring as to simply make sandwiches,ö said Archer, adding her two cents.
In spite of all attempts to suppress it, Rider's Master could not refrain from a small upturning of the lips at these words of gender role reversal.
ôSo, ah, Ms. Huang, what do you do outside of the Grail War?ö
ôIf you must know, I work in the People's Liberation Army's Special Circumstances unit. In part, this is why I really would enjoy the pleasure of killing Lestrange myself. I cannot stand terrorists and criminals. They are scum whose skulls I would grind to dust under my heel.ö
After this, there was something of a pause. Then she smiled, almost pleasantly.
ôI also enjoy tai chi chuan and European operas. Der Ring des Nibelungen is a particular favorite. Hitler might have liked Wagner, but Hitler also liked dogs.ö
ôWhat a clever usage of Argumentum ad Hitlerum,ö commented Kosmas, ôAs for me, magic is a family thing. My day job is running an normal oil company in North Africa. My own romantic nature simply couldn't resist. As for hobbies, I love sailing, especially with a wooden boat with only the stars as guidance.ö
ôFamily?ö asked Harry.
ôI thought you- oh right, they've dumbed down the curriculum since my cousin was there. The Kosmas family is the third oldest Greek wizarding family. We have a large number of squibs, so our connections to the mundane are much more solid than most.ö
ôWhat about you, Lancer?ö asked Archer.
ôI enjoy some of the simpler things in life. Good food, good wine, good companions. The combination of 'television' and 'rugby' make for enjoyable times. Now, I might as well be the coach of one of the school rugby teams. Those kids are going to win their league.ö
Lancer smiled happily.
ôFor me,ö began Rider, ôI love to crush my enemies, see them driven before me, and to hear the lamentation of their women. It is from that I gain my pleasure.ö
ôI apologize. I really should not have lent him Conan the Barbarian.ö
ôI find these 'movies' to be a very enjoyable waste of my time. It doesn't contribute to the Grail War, but I can't help but enjoy myself,ö explained Rider, smiling a truthful smile, ôAnd you, Archer?'
ôTo service my Master as best I can.ö
ôNot everyone gets your sense of humor, Archer. You're just too deadpan.ö
ôAs for hobbies, not really. For that sort of thing, I simply drift about and enjoy it as it comes. With this modern world, it's such an enjoyably foreign experience.ö
ôI see, Archer. Outside of war, you just drift through life, doing whatever strikes you at the moment,ö said Lancer.
Archer leaned back and replied, ôThat's pretty much it, Lancer.ö
ôI see.ö
ôI must wonder, Harry Potter, why is it called a 'Ministry of Magic' since it is essentially its own independent country.ö
Harry sighed.
ôI've been wondering. Maybe the real British government would be able to clear up the mess. They might need to burn it down first, but I think they'd be able to fix something that's basically headed for its own destruction. The thing is, the Ministry of Magic is so stagnant, and the people are so stagnant. After several huge wars, there haven't been any changes whatsoever, just a return to the status quo. It's like the sort of lazy storytelling you get from a kids' program. If things go back to the status quo, then the same conditions that caused the fighting will resurface and maybe the Ministry won't be nearly as lucky as the last time.ö
ôHm. In China, our plan is to reveal magic in 2000. Secrecy is a horrible defense to rely upon because secrecy is a one-time defense. If secrecy is gone, then it can't be used again. Not everyone sees eye-to-eye on this, though,ö explained Meiling.
ôBut when you have the ability to remove memories.ö
ô-You've really been brainwashed. Look around and look at all the camcorders and phones and the internet. There's no way in hell secrecy can last for you. It would be best to simply do away with it as soon as possible.ö
ôYeah, I suppose. I bet you catch some flak for your opinions.ö
She smiled.
ôCorrect. That's would be my wish, to dissolve the whole masquerade between the supernatural and the mundane. Besides, who doesn't want to be on the side with nuclear weapons.ö
ôYou're against the magical government.ö
ôDoes it look like I work for them. I work for the legitimate authority over the land.ö
ôSounds interesting.ö
ôIt is.ö
ôExcuse me, ladies and gentlemen,ö said Lancer, getting up from the table.
He turned and left the room, being careful to not slam the door. His footsteps receded, and there was silence. Kosmas closed his eyes and put his hands behind his head as he waited. The footsteps returned. The door opened, and Lancer arrived with Saber and Susan.
Saber was dressed a an elegantly cut evening gown of white. A small gold necklance hung around her neck. Her hair was in its usual fashion, but that only enhanced Saber's natural beauty. She was simply stunning. Susan wore a simple black dress elegant in its simplicity.
ôAh. It appears as though the last of our guests have arrived. I am Nikolai Kosmas, Master of Lancer. Tonight, we are here to enjoy a fine dinner and plot out a method by which Berserker can be killed. That would be all of us.ö
Nikolai paused before continuing.
ôI bet you are wondering why exactly you six. It has a lot to do with you Servants. My own, Lancer, saw something in you. He saw a spark of leadership and nobility that he finds to be missing from the others. I think we all can agree that Berserker and Bellatrix Lestrange should be dead.ö
There were nods of assent all around.
ôI don't expect anyone to reveal their Servant's identity. I don't want to and I doubt you do. But for the moment, let's simply enjoy a meal, shall we. This serious talk can wait until after our stomachs are filled.ö
***
Click. Click. Click.
A shoe tapped on brick.
Words of power and flourishes of a wand. Then a purposeful and arrogant advance. An advance with rightful arrogance. The huntress steps forward.
ôOh Draco, Auntie Lestrange is here to see her lovely nephew.ö
Chapter 10
Evening Meal
ôSo, shopping?ö asked Archer.
ôYes, shopping,ö replied Harry.
Harry looked up from his pancakes.
ôThese are really tasty, you know. Maybe you could become a chef so legendary that you could become a Heroic Spirit. That would be awesome,ö said Archer, stuffing the syrup soaked food item into her mouth.
ôThanks, Archer.ö
ôAnything in particular that you want?ö
Harry laughed, ôMe, I'm going to get a blazer and bowtie. I already have the trousers for it. What do you want?ö
ôA nice dress with heels. It would be red, of course. I'm thinking backless. I know you like my sexy back; I like my sexy back.ö
ôBaby got back,ö commented Harry idly, drinking his morning tea. By now, he was more or less inured to her teasing. It was fun, and it helped make her something more than a distant heroic figure. Instead, she became a real person with whom he could interact and have fun. Speaking of fun, he made a mental note to never agree to strip poker with Archer. He knew that he would end up sleeping naked on the couch.
Once breakfast was finished, Harry cleaned up as it was his kitchen, not Archer's. Archer in turn, changed over into her street clothes.
ôWait,ö asked Archer, ôDon't you already have a tie?ö
ôI do,ö he answered, laughing, ôbut it's a school tie. I'd prefer a black bowtie with this. Maybe a waistcoat so I can look somewhat dignified if I have to remove my jacket.ö
ôI'll make sure you don't pick out anything stupid-looking.ö
ôI picked out what you're wearing right now. I would say that I have a modicum of sensibility when it comes to clothing.ö
ôYou're so sweet. You're also getting me a nice dress. For a hero of my status, it must be very nice.ö
ôOf course, Archer.ö
Harry smiled, and Archer grinned back.
ôShall we go, Harry?ö asked Archer.
ôOh shit, another trip to the bank. I hope I don't have to go again.ö
ôDeal with it.ö
ôYou seem pretty chipper for someone who was impaled by a spear just last night.ö
ôYou provide a luxurious amount of magical power for me. It's really quite pleasant, like a fine sake.ö
ôI'm glad you think of me like booze.ö
ôNot booze, there is a difference. Booze would just be what you drink to inebriate yourself. A fine drink is one that can be savored and enjoyed. Your power isn't just something which I simply take in because I need it to remain in this world; it' something I enjoy taking in.ö
ôThanks Archer.ö
***
Archer and Harry found themselves within a formal clothing store. In this case, they were looking for a dress for Archer first because Harry already had much of what he would need for such an occasion. There were just a few additional things he would like. In this case, he was hoping for a bowtie and waistcoat.
ôHow does this one look?ö asked Archer, coming out of the changing room.
There were several requirements for Archer's dress, as put down by the Servant herself. First was color; it must be red. Second was the pricetag; thankfully, she did want to bankrupt him. Third was that it had to look nice, but in Harry's opinion, all of them looked nice on her.
The first had been an ankle-length, strapless dress. Archer liked it, especially with heels but had found the way it clung to her to be uncomfortable. Harry just thought that it poorly accentuated her bust.
The next had broken the color requirement, being a little black dress. It had been a polite suggestion by Harry, since the knee length dress seemed like something that Archer would like as well as accentuate her own beauty. He had to acknowledge that Archer was quite pretty, stunning actually. However, Archer did not like it. That was the end of that.
ôIs that who I think it is, Archer?ö
Archer whipped her head around.
ôIndeed. The silver knight herself has graced us with her appearance.ö
ôI thought you actually liked Saber.ö
ôI do actually, but since we are well into the hostilities of the War, I am somewhat obligated to be hostile.ö
ôSo you weren't serious?ö
ôCorrect. I actually do like Saber, but I was making an obtuse comment because I can.ö
ôYou are really strange. I honestly hope all the other Servants are as weird as you.ö
ôOf course, Master.ö
ôLet's say hello. It's only polite.ö
ôFine by me. It looks as though they're out doing the same thing we are.ö
ôLancer?ö
ôProbably.ö
ôI wonder who else was invited.ö
Harry waved, smiling brightly. Saber immediately picked up on this and snapped to attention before relaxing, but not entirely, upon seeing Harry's non-threating expression.
ôHow do you do?ö she asks, greeting.
ôQuite well. What brings you and -I assume- your Master here, Saber?ö
ôAn invitation. Something more formal in my size was required and something more mundane was what my Master required.ö
ôLancer and his Master, right?ö
ôCorrect, Harry Potter.
ôSame reason here.ö
ôHarry?ö
It was Susan.
ôHello. Nice to see you too.ö
Things went at a leisurely pace, Harry feeling somewhat left out as the only guy. Thankfully, Archer's fun personality more than made up for it. With them, Archer was able to quickly find a dress that suited her tastes. The two pairs left on friendlier terms. Susan was someone who registered in the periphery of his mind, but he had to admit that she was an interesting person. And she saw Harry Potter, not the Boy-Who-Lived. If anything, he was grateful for the opportunity the Grail War offered in being able to know her better.
ôThat was a pleasant way to spend a morning. Thanks for the company,ö said Harry, waving goodbye. Archer gave a pleasant smile.
ôWe'll see you later, Harry. You too, Archer.ö
***
ôDamn, it's pretty cold.ö
Breath frosts in the air.
ôI understand, Harry. However, as I am a magical construct, I am not bound by your petty 'temperatures.'ö
ôThis sort of weather in summer is ridiculous. It hasn't been this cold any other night.ö
ôI don't care. Besides, you like to see me in this dress. A coat would simply ruin it.ö
ôI must agree with your impeccable logic, Archer.ö
She had managed to find a dress. In this case, a beautiful red dress made from a smooth, silky material. The pricetag was the only indication that it was not actual silk. The bright scarlet was but a shade lighter than that of her armor. The halter top did indeed, as Archer put it so eloquently, show off her back. That was not all it showed off, though. Slits in the dress showed off her toned legs which gave off a predatory air with every step.
ôYou sure about this, Archer? I could do it better and faster than this.ö
ôWhat you take for granted, I enjoy. It's not like you have a car.ö
ôFine.ö
Harry called a taxi on a pay phone. It arrived within fifteen minutes. A small wad of bills and directions were thrust into the driver's hands. Archer and Harry slid in, Archer with a grace he did not know that she possessed.
ôThe Nautilus Lounge, seriously?ö asked the driver.
ôIt's on invitation. We have a rich friend throwing a dinner party,ö replied Harry.
ôAin't that how it always goes.ö
ôYup. Wouldn't be going there otherwise.ö
ôI see. Well, have a good time.ö
The ride continues in silence. Archer feigns the actions of vapid eye candy. She isn't a good actor is the illusion is immediately dispelled in her eyes. They are too clever, too focused, too smart, too driven. He can't help but smile at his Servant; he wouldn't have it any other way.
ôHere you are, the Nautilus Lounge. Best of luck.ö
ôThank you.ö
Harry and Archer both stepped out. The Nautilus Lounge, an expensive and trendy restaurant, serving expensive seafood. There was an enclosed balcony for a riverside view. Low, shifting lights in greens, purples, and blues gave a submarine feel. It suited the Jules Verne theme of the restaurant. Escorting Archer, Harry walked up to the front desk.
ôExcuse me, we're here with Kosmas.ö
The lady at the desk turned to fierce-looking man with a dark, curly beard. In spite of his warlike appearance, he was well dressed in a pinstriped suit with a crimson tie. He had a deep Mediterannean tan. If anything, he looked like a Greek statue given the breath of life.
ôThey are,ö confirmed the man before turning to Harry and Archer, ôPlease follow me.ö
Archer arched an eyebrow, ôLancer?ö
ôIndeed. I must say that that dress does look wonderful on you, Archer.ö
ôThe suit was not what I expected, but it is quite nice,ö complimented Archer.
ôThe same red as your cloak?ö asked Harry.
ôOf course,ö replied Lancer, smiling.
It was such a strange thing, such civility after a life-or-death battle. But such was the Grail War. As Lancer maneuvered through the crowds up to an upstairs lounge, Harry and Archer were able to take in the actual restaurant, rather than mere accounts of it. The inside was a bizarre combination of Victorian architecture with elements of art nouveau's sweeping curves and art deco's ornate and streamlined but solid features. Of course, it resembled the interior of a submarine in no way. The brass and bronze highlighted the nautical theme. Everywhere, at any given point in the restaurant was something interesting. The quality of the food served enhanced the atmosphere and cleverly fit in with the Jules Verne theme.
The lounge, surprisingly, had no window. Instead, there was a table set for eight. Sitting at the head was a man who's appearance could be described very simply: rich playboy. From the high quality of his grey Italian suit to his unbuttoned silk shirt and shined leather shoes, his appearance screamed ôI'm a rich playboy.ö
ôNikolai Kosmas, a pleasure to meet you in person Mr. Potter. You too, Archer.ö
ôOf course,ö replied Harry. Archer gave a slight smile and raised eyebrow.
Harry extended his hand and Kosmas took it and smiled. His handshake was firm and his grin sharklike. In spite of it, he felt like a decent guy.
ôSo, I assume four more are going to arrive.ö
ôYou're a little early, actually.ö
ôBetter that than late.ö
Kosmas chuckles.
ôSo, what are you going to have tonight? I'm paying.ö
Harry took his seat and looked at the menu. Archer sat next to him.
ôI'm thinking of the house salad to start and the filet mignon and shrimp as my entree. If you've been here before, I'm curious as to your own recommendations.ö
Nikolai smiled and replied, ôI have, in fact. That is a nice choice.ö
ôI'm leaning towards the rack of lamb myself,ö said Archer.
ôA big eater?ö inquired Kosmas with a pleasant smile.
ôI didn't grow to become the hero I am by some sort of 'dieting.'ö
Archer grinned a silly grin.
ôThat's the spirit,ö said Nikolai, giving a cheesy thumbs-up.
ôWho else is coming, might I ask?ö inquired Harry.
ôSaber and her Master and Rider and his Master.ö
ôI see. Any particular reason?ö
ôBerserker.ö
Harry nodded, ôOf course.ö
ôAnd Lancer saw something in all of these Servants. That spark of leadership and confidence so familiar to him. The Masters were common courtesy on my part.ö
ôInteresting accent you have, there. It's not much, but your English sounds a bit off.ö
Nikolai laughed, ôI am a Greek. I suppose it is not the most common of accents. In spite of coming here for my education, nothing I do could get rid of that bit of accent.ö
Another two arrived. One was bulky with a thick, drooping moustache. His features marked him as Rider, the Mongol. His dark hair was wild and untamed. He frowned upon seeing Archer but remained silent. Beside Rider was a woman. She was dressed in a military-style suit in an olive green. It probably was a part of a military uniform but there were no ranks attached to the normal places. The cut was wrong, though, for a uniform. It had been custom tailored for looking nice. Her tie was a formal black. She looked Chinese and her hair was drawn up into a neat ponytail. Brown eyes frigid as a glacier observed the room and its inhabitants.
The man stepped forward to shake Kosmas's hand.
ôRider,ö he said gruffly.
ôNikolai Kosmas, a pleasure to meet you. As for you...ö he said, turning to the Master.
ôMeiling Huang,ö she said curtly, taking his hand and giving a handshake that looked painful.
Archer was unable to hide a small frown of displeasure. Her much greater internal distaste was apparent to Harry through their link. Harry was not the most amiable either.
ôBitch tried to shoot me!ö he communicated.
ôI know. Were it not in the interest of this continued spirit of parley, I would be shooting her in the face right now. Repeatedly shooting her in the face,ö returned Archer, ôBesides, she's Chinese. What good things ever came out of their?ö
ôYour writing system,ö offered Harry.
ôRight. Moving on.ö
Harry took a look at Rider's Master. She didn't seem very fond of Archer either.
ôSo, what do you want, Master of Lancer?ö she asked, refusing to acknowledge him as anything but a competitor to be brutally murdered. For all the empathy in her eyes, he might as well have been a piece of meat. Kosmas ignored it. The shark behind his eyes looked the abyss in the eye and smiled back.
ôTo talk and enjoy fine food. Would that be too much to ask for, Meiling Huang?ö
ôNot at all. I would assume you wish for a cooperative effort against Berserker.ö
ôCorrect. As for now, I suggest looking at the menu as we wait for our final two guests. ö
Harry leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow.
Small talk began to be made. It was boring mundane subjects like weather.
ôSo, what does 'the Harry Potter' do when you aren't off fighting Grail Wars?ö asked Kosmas.
ôStudying and chores. Though I do enjoy making a good meal and can make a garden go from crappy to nice,ö replied Harry.
ôA gourmet, are you?ö inquired Kosmas with a friendly, disarming smile.
ôI don't just appreciate the food, I make the food. Therein lies the distinction.ö
ôI would say that the fruits of his kitchen labor are well appreciated. Besides, I think my Master's place is in the kitchen. And, thankfully, he is not so boring as to simply make sandwiches,ö said Archer, adding her two cents.
In spite of all attempts to suppress it, Rider's Master could not refrain from a small upturning of the lips at these words of gender role reversal.
ôSo, ah, Ms. Huang, what do you do outside of the Grail War?ö
ôIf you must know, I work in the People's Liberation Army's Special Circumstances unit. In part, this is why I really would enjoy the pleasure of killing Lestrange myself. I cannot stand terrorists and criminals. They are scum whose skulls I would grind to dust under my heel.ö
After this, there was something of a pause. Then she smiled, almost pleasantly.
ôI also enjoy tai chi chuan and European operas. Der Ring des Nibelungen is a particular favorite. Hitler might have liked Wagner, but Hitler also liked dogs.ö
ôWhat a clever usage of Argumentum ad Hitlerum,ö commented Kosmas, ôAs for me, magic is a family thing. My day job is running an normal oil company in North Africa. My own romantic nature simply couldn't resist. As for hobbies, I love sailing, especially with a wooden boat with only the stars as guidance.ö
ôFamily?ö asked Harry.
ôI thought you- oh right, they've dumbed down the curriculum since my cousin was there. The Kosmas family is the third oldest Greek wizarding family. We have a large number of squibs, so our connections to the mundane are much more solid than most.ö
ôWhat about you, Lancer?ö asked Archer.
ôI enjoy some of the simpler things in life. Good food, good wine, good companions. The combination of 'television' and 'rugby' make for enjoyable times. Now, I might as well be the coach of one of the school rugby teams. Those kids are going to win their league.ö
Lancer smiled happily.
ôFor me,ö began Rider, ôI love to crush my enemies, see them driven before me, and to hear the lamentation of their women. It is from that I gain my pleasure.ö
ôI apologize. I really should not have lent him Conan the Barbarian.ö
ôI find these 'movies' to be a very enjoyable waste of my time. It doesn't contribute to the Grail War, but I can't help but enjoy myself,ö explained Rider, smiling a truthful smile, ôAnd you, Archer?'
ôTo service my Master as best I can.ö
ôNot everyone gets your sense of humor, Archer. You're just too deadpan.ö
ôAs for hobbies, not really. For that sort of thing, I simply drift about and enjoy it as it comes. With this modern world, it's such an enjoyably foreign experience.ö
ôI see, Archer. Outside of war, you just drift through life, doing whatever strikes you at the moment,ö said Lancer.
Archer leaned back and replied, ôThat's pretty much it, Lancer.ö
ôI see.ö
ôI must wonder, Harry Potter, why is it called a 'Ministry of Magic' since it is essentially its own independent country.ö
Harry sighed.
ôI've been wondering. Maybe the real British government would be able to clear up the mess. They might need to burn it down first, but I think they'd be able to fix something that's basically headed for its own destruction. The thing is, the Ministry of Magic is so stagnant, and the people are so stagnant. After several huge wars, there haven't been any changes whatsoever, just a return to the status quo. It's like the sort of lazy storytelling you get from a kids' program. If things go back to the status quo, then the same conditions that caused the fighting will resurface and maybe the Ministry won't be nearly as lucky as the last time.ö
ôHm. In China, our plan is to reveal magic in 2000. Secrecy is a horrible defense to rely upon because secrecy is a one-time defense. If secrecy is gone, then it can't be used again. Not everyone sees eye-to-eye on this, though,ö explained Meiling.
ôBut when you have the ability to remove memories.ö
ô-You've really been brainwashed. Look around and look at all the camcorders and phones and the internet. There's no way in hell secrecy can last for you. It would be best to simply do away with it as soon as possible.ö
ôYeah, I suppose. I bet you catch some flak for your opinions.ö
She smiled.
ôCorrect. That's would be my wish, to dissolve the whole masquerade between the supernatural and the mundane. Besides, who doesn't want to be on the side with nuclear weapons.ö
ôYou're against the magical government.ö
ôDoes it look like I work for them. I work for the legitimate authority over the land.ö
ôSounds interesting.ö
ôIt is.ö
ôExcuse me, ladies and gentlemen,ö said Lancer, getting up from the table.
He turned and left the room, being careful to not slam the door. His footsteps receded, and there was silence. Kosmas closed his eyes and put his hands behind his head as he waited. The footsteps returned. The door opened, and Lancer arrived with Saber and Susan.
Saber was dressed a an elegantly cut evening gown of white. A small gold necklance hung around her neck. Her hair was in its usual fashion, but that only enhanced Saber's natural beauty. She was simply stunning. Susan wore a simple black dress elegant in its simplicity.
ôAh. It appears as though the last of our guests have arrived. I am Nikolai Kosmas, Master of Lancer. Tonight, we are here to enjoy a fine dinner and plot out a method by which Berserker can be killed. That would be all of us.ö
Nikolai paused before continuing.
ôI bet you are wondering why exactly you six. It has a lot to do with you Servants. My own, Lancer, saw something in you. He saw a spark of leadership and nobility that he finds to be missing from the others. I think we all can agree that Berserker and Bellatrix Lestrange should be dead.ö
There were nods of assent all around.
ôI don't expect anyone to reveal their Servant's identity. I don't want to and I doubt you do. But for the moment, let's simply enjoy a meal, shall we. This serious talk can wait until after our stomachs are filled.ö
***
Click. Click. Click.
A shoe tapped on brick.
Words of power and flourishes of a wand. Then a purposeful and arrogant advance. An advance with rightful arrogance. The huntress steps forward.
ôOh Draco, Auntie Lestrange is here to see her lovely nephew.ö
I'm not dead yet! And neither is this story. So, this is the first half of the chapter. The second half should be done in a week or two. Changed scene break because I don't feel like having to manually put it in for FF.net like I have in previous chapters.
Chapter 11
Hagia Maria
Cold. Freezing cold.
Such was life in the winter wonderland. Or it might have been a wasteland. The summers were choked with dust and springs filled with mud. The land was harsh.
So faith was put into God. A young man took up the priesthood. He was devout and caring. He followed God and saw himself as an instrument of His will.
Then, there was something. Perhaps the drudgery. Perhaps it was seeing all the world's evils. Whatever the cause, the young man became a hermit and became alone.
Isolation and contemplation. The Mad Monk was born.
Virtue became vice. He knew it. He reveled in it. He reveled in his vices, women and alcohol among them.
There was still some shred of devotion left in him and using his gifts, he cured a dying boy. As such he was invited into the house. His corruption spread like tendrils, infecting the minds of those surrounding him.
Many times, they tried to kill him. This only angered him further. Their vices were just as plain to see as his own. With each attempt upon his life, he grew stronger and tougher. Such was his way. Already hardened by the frontier, he hardened more.
However, they killed him. Stabbed, poisoned, shot, and thrown into an icy river. In the end, none of these killed him. It was cold.
Freezing cold.
xxx
The wine was getting to him, Harry decided. Kosmas had ordered wine for everyone. He couldn't admit that he was underage. That might give them an edge on him. He was unwilling to risk that. Nonetheless, things became much more lively with the wine. Archer was the center of attention, drawing them in and regaling them with her wit and sense of humor. He would have expected the ever-radiant Saber to be the center of attention, but the Knight of the Sword seemed distant and cold.
He tipped back his wine and took another sip, leaning back. Harry was more than content to let Archer do her thing. In spite of their battle, Archer and Lancer seemed to be getting along quite well. A glance towards Rider showed him unamused by Archer, but enjoying the festivities. As for Rider's Master, she was as unreadable as ancient Greek to him.
ôAlright,ö said Kosmas, who seemed rather nervous when all the Servants, heroes of legend turned their gazes upon him, ôI believe it would be a proper time to discuss the plan for dealing with Berserker.ö
He paused, clearing his throat and then sipped from his drink.
ôIt would my idea to lure the two into a large open ground. I fear that we may be required to use Noble Phantasms which might be quite destructive. Furthermore, the open terrain is a hindrance against a fist brawler like Berserker. However, I am not sure how to attract her attention.ö
Harry set his glass down.
ôTrust me, Mr. Kosmas. Bellatrix is quite easy to rile up.ö
Harry then steepled his hands.
ôI see. I trust you have a plan, Master of Archer.ö
Harry nodded, smiling.
ôI would just blow her brains out, give her another eye socket, and be done with it.ö
ôI wouldn't trust you with a gun around my Master,ö stated Archer, arms crossed over her chest.
ôI see,ö she said evenly, meeting Archer's gaze.
ôPerhaps if you have such a problem, Archer, you should seek allies elsewhere,ö commented Rider with hostility.
ôLadies, Gentlemen,ö implored Kosmas, ôWe won't be having any fighting in our war room.ö
Surprisingly, calm followed.
ôWhere might we do this?ö asked Saber.
ôI do know of a soccer pitch just outside the city proper,ö said Harry, ôIt has the potential to be big enough, especially considering how close things were last time we clashed.ö
ôFair enough,ö stated Lancer.
Harry took another sip of his wine and leaned back.
ôHarry,ö communicated Archer through their bond, ôI don't think working with those two is a good idea.ö
ôWe can't beat Berserker on our own. We're going to have to swallow our pride.ö
ôAre there any objections to challenging Berserker and his Master, say, tomorrow at eleven at night,ö said Kosmas.
ôShould we perhaps plan more?ö asked Susan, choosing her words carefully.
ôI believe that planning to heavily will doom us. Flexibility is important,ö replied Kosmas.
Susan nodded.
ôWell then, I believe that concludes this meal and war session. Ladies and gentlemen, after you.ö
xxx
Assassin jumped forth with a lightning fast slash of his sickle, aimed at decapitating his Master's aunt. The mad monk's fist sent him through a wall. A cloud of shattered building materials could be seen coming from the hole.
ôNow, now. That's no way to treat your aunt,ö said the huntress, all humanity having turned into a bestial thing.
ôI don't want to be a part of this,ö said Draco, his trembling voice and limbs betraying his fear. She capitalized on this, coming near and brushing aside his extended wand. She came unsettlingly close to him, practically smelling him and drinking in his fear.
ôWhy are you like this?ö she asked, almost pouting, ôThis isn't the Draco I know.ö
Draco swallowed a lump in his throat and gave his firm reply.
ôAssassin has changed the way I look at things Aunt Bella. If the first murderer -the man who killed his own brother in cold blood and lied about it- can seek reconciliation and to become a better person, I think that there is something out there, a greater good, to which I can emulate. This whole thing about killing off the mudbloods and setting the world in flames, there is something seriously wrong about that. I might not like, for example, Hermione Granger, but I don't feel any particular desire to rape her and kill her family. There's something sick and wrong that I don't think I can explain about that.ö
She walked around him, each heeled footstep carefully placed. She examined, looking closer, while he remained as still as a statue. She could kill him in an instant and there was nothing he could do save burning a command seal.
ôAunt Bella, I still love you. You're family, and if learned anything from being raised as a Malfoy, it would be that family matters. Even if you do things I think are horrible, I'll still love you unconditionally because you are family.ö
Draco inhaled and exhaled, waiting for a possible killing blow. Bella gave him a slow applause and a rare genuine smile.
ôI think that you've finally become a man, Draco. Those were probably the best thought-out words I've heard from you. That's really impressive.ö
She came close to give him a hug and kiss on the cheek. Her gaze turned hard.
ôHowever, Draco, I have an ultimatum for you. You can either help me now or I will kill you. It's nothing personal, but this is a Grail War. I hope we can cooperate.ö
The wand was now pressed against his throat. Assassin appeared from the rubble and gave a look to Draco. Though he could not see behind the mask, Draco felt that such a look from his Servant was one of disappointment. Again, Draco was weak, and he loathed himself for his weakness.
xxx
Twin steels rang out on a dreary, grey morning. One had a was the color of polished bronze and gold while the other was pure silver that reflected light to turn it white. The white blade was easily the superior dancing around the guard of the bronze blade. However, with every strike that could easily turn into a killing blow, the bronze blade became that minuscule bit better.
ôReducto!ö
The explosive spell was not aimed at the wielder of the pure sword. Such a thing would have been pointless. However, the fragments of concrete were not governed by any magic resistance. The blade still ended less than an inch from a killing blow.
ôGetting better, Harry.ö
ôYou're still going easy on me, Archer.ö
ôYou'd die if I didn't. We Servants are at a completely different level.ö
Harry sat down and began to stretch.
ôYeah. I know.ö
ôYou seem a bit down? Is something wrong?ö
ôIt's been a bit strange lately. It just feels a bit more natural to do what I did just now and use the sword as my focus, shaping the spell with my intent rather than rote memorization of incantations and movements.ö
ôI'm no wizard, so do whatever works best for you. But you need to get up.ö
Archer spread her arms wide with a mocking grin. She then uttered three words.
ôCome at me.ö
Harry picked up the sword and they locked once more in a dance of blades. Though outwitted and overpowered at every turn, he became that little bit better. As for Archer, a look of pure bliss was on her face. To duel with her own Master that she had convinced to take up the way of the sword was not what she had expected when summoned as a Servant in the Holy Grail War. And so, the dance continued.
xxx
Thrust. Sweep. Shield bash. Sandals found purchase on the dust of the field. A spin, disrupting vision with a crimson cloak. A brutally short thrust of the butt spike. Lancer kicked up dust as he prepared his mind and body while fighting against the wind and air.
Each thrust was with the intention of killing. Each step contained the power to stop a charging bull. Each shield bash could smash apart a castle wall. Such was the overwhelming power of a Servant.
ôBravo, Lancer. I could not wish for a finer Servant than you.ö
Kosmas walked up, expensive sunglasses over his eyes.
ôThank you, Master,ö replied Lancer, dripping sweat.
The shield-bearing warrior gazed towards the sky before looking back at his Master.
ôI do fear something about this upcoming conflict,ö he stated.
ôWhat would that be?ö inquired Kosmas.
ôI fear that my Noble Phantasm would be required. To be absolutely frank, it would be necessary in single combat as I doubt that he would succumb to his wounds before he would muster the strength necessary to kill me. If you recall, Berserker becomes stronger with every blow which strikes him.ö
Nikolai Kosmas nodded and withdrew a small cigar from his pocket. He lit it up with a polished silver lighter. A thin stream of smoke was blown into the air.
ôI didn't know you were a smoker, Master.ö
ôIt's a bad habit of a youth misspent. I usually light up before something big like this. To be honest with myself, I'm concerned about this. We might have three Servants on our side, but Assassin and Caster, the two most devious, are wild cards at the moment.ö
The two walked over and sat on the ground.
ôSo Lancer, did you see the kids today?ö
ôI did. I don't want to let them down as a coach by getting killed. That would break their hearts.ö
ôYeah. I suppose it would.ö
Master and Servant lay down in the grass, gazing at the clouds.
xxx
The sickle-shaped magazine of 7.62 ammunition was rocked into the Type-56. She tweaked the reflex sight and practiced quick shots. This was the rifle with which Meiling Huang had drilled. The QBZ felt too strange after using the Type-56. The Czech CZ-52 pistol and Type-63 machine pistol went into holsters. After a moment, she took out the RPG-7. For a normal person, they would have been barely able to move under so much weight. However, with magic, she was easily able to lighten the load to something more bearable.
Rider squatted, palms pressed together. It was how he concentrated and meditated before going into battle. His weapons were laid out before him. Once more, Meiling Huang began to strip and clean her weapons.
ôAre you worried, Master?ö asked Rider, cracking one eye open.
ôI always get nervous and scared before I go into battle. I just use my courage to harness that fear as my own engine.ö
Rider nodded.
ôRider,ö she said, ôIf you can, try to kill Archer or her Master. I just don't like them.ö
ôUnderstood.ö
xxx
Saber, in her full battle regalia knelt down, genuflecting. The invisible sword's point was placed against the floor. Her head was bowed. Her lips moved but no sound issued forth.
Saber was praying. As for what she was praying, it could not be known. Perhaps mere worship and praise. Perhaps it was a petition for victory. Perhaps a request for the forgiveness of sins should she fall in battle.
Saber was a knight who held to that code of chivalry. As did most of the knights of her days, it was the custom to pray before battle. Even though her sword promised victory, she prayed. It might have been a mere prayer of thanks. It might have just been empty words, but Saber prayed.
Then, she stood up. Her Master was there by the door, watching. Saber smiled and brought a gauntleted hand onto the shoulder of Susan Bones. Then they left the room together as it was night, the designated time of battle.
Chapter 11
Hagia Maria
Cold. Freezing cold.
Such was life in the winter wonderland. Or it might have been a wasteland. The summers were choked with dust and springs filled with mud. The land was harsh.
So faith was put into God. A young man took up the priesthood. He was devout and caring. He followed God and saw himself as an instrument of His will.
Then, there was something. Perhaps the drudgery. Perhaps it was seeing all the world's evils. Whatever the cause, the young man became a hermit and became alone.
Isolation and contemplation. The Mad Monk was born.
Virtue became vice. He knew it. He reveled in it. He reveled in his vices, women and alcohol among them.
There was still some shred of devotion left in him and using his gifts, he cured a dying boy. As such he was invited into the house. His corruption spread like tendrils, infecting the minds of those surrounding him.
Many times, they tried to kill him. This only angered him further. Their vices were just as plain to see as his own. With each attempt upon his life, he grew stronger and tougher. Such was his way. Already hardened by the frontier, he hardened more.
However, they killed him. Stabbed, poisoned, shot, and thrown into an icy river. In the end, none of these killed him. It was cold.
Freezing cold.
xxx
The wine was getting to him, Harry decided. Kosmas had ordered wine for everyone. He couldn't admit that he was underage. That might give them an edge on him. He was unwilling to risk that. Nonetheless, things became much more lively with the wine. Archer was the center of attention, drawing them in and regaling them with her wit and sense of humor. He would have expected the ever-radiant Saber to be the center of attention, but the Knight of the Sword seemed distant and cold.
He tipped back his wine and took another sip, leaning back. Harry was more than content to let Archer do her thing. In spite of their battle, Archer and Lancer seemed to be getting along quite well. A glance towards Rider showed him unamused by Archer, but enjoying the festivities. As for Rider's Master, she was as unreadable as ancient Greek to him.
ôAlright,ö said Kosmas, who seemed rather nervous when all the Servants, heroes of legend turned their gazes upon him, ôI believe it would be a proper time to discuss the plan for dealing with Berserker.ö
He paused, clearing his throat and then sipped from his drink.
ôIt would my idea to lure the two into a large open ground. I fear that we may be required to use Noble Phantasms which might be quite destructive. Furthermore, the open terrain is a hindrance against a fist brawler like Berserker. However, I am not sure how to attract her attention.ö
Harry set his glass down.
ôTrust me, Mr. Kosmas. Bellatrix is quite easy to rile up.ö
Harry then steepled his hands.
ôI see. I trust you have a plan, Master of Archer.ö
Harry nodded, smiling.
ôI would just blow her brains out, give her another eye socket, and be done with it.ö
ôI wouldn't trust you with a gun around my Master,ö stated Archer, arms crossed over her chest.
ôI see,ö she said evenly, meeting Archer's gaze.
ôPerhaps if you have such a problem, Archer, you should seek allies elsewhere,ö commented Rider with hostility.
ôLadies, Gentlemen,ö implored Kosmas, ôWe won't be having any fighting in our war room.ö
Surprisingly, calm followed.
ôWhere might we do this?ö asked Saber.
ôI do know of a soccer pitch just outside the city proper,ö said Harry, ôIt has the potential to be big enough, especially considering how close things were last time we clashed.ö
ôFair enough,ö stated Lancer.
Harry took another sip of his wine and leaned back.
ôHarry,ö communicated Archer through their bond, ôI don't think working with those two is a good idea.ö
ôWe can't beat Berserker on our own. We're going to have to swallow our pride.ö
ôAre there any objections to challenging Berserker and his Master, say, tomorrow at eleven at night,ö said Kosmas.
ôShould we perhaps plan more?ö asked Susan, choosing her words carefully.
ôI believe that planning to heavily will doom us. Flexibility is important,ö replied Kosmas.
Susan nodded.
ôWell then, I believe that concludes this meal and war session. Ladies and gentlemen, after you.ö
xxx
Assassin jumped forth with a lightning fast slash of his sickle, aimed at decapitating his Master's aunt. The mad monk's fist sent him through a wall. A cloud of shattered building materials could be seen coming from the hole.
ôNow, now. That's no way to treat your aunt,ö said the huntress, all humanity having turned into a bestial thing.
ôI don't want to be a part of this,ö said Draco, his trembling voice and limbs betraying his fear. She capitalized on this, coming near and brushing aside his extended wand. She came unsettlingly close to him, practically smelling him and drinking in his fear.
ôWhy are you like this?ö she asked, almost pouting, ôThis isn't the Draco I know.ö
Draco swallowed a lump in his throat and gave his firm reply.
ôAssassin has changed the way I look at things Aunt Bella. If the first murderer -the man who killed his own brother in cold blood and lied about it- can seek reconciliation and to become a better person, I think that there is something out there, a greater good, to which I can emulate. This whole thing about killing off the mudbloods and setting the world in flames, there is something seriously wrong about that. I might not like, for example, Hermione Granger, but I don't feel any particular desire to rape her and kill her family. There's something sick and wrong that I don't think I can explain about that.ö
She walked around him, each heeled footstep carefully placed. She examined, looking closer, while he remained as still as a statue. She could kill him in an instant and there was nothing he could do save burning a command seal.
ôAunt Bella, I still love you. You're family, and if learned anything from being raised as a Malfoy, it would be that family matters. Even if you do things I think are horrible, I'll still love you unconditionally because you are family.ö
Draco inhaled and exhaled, waiting for a possible killing blow. Bella gave him a slow applause and a rare genuine smile.
ôI think that you've finally become a man, Draco. Those were probably the best thought-out words I've heard from you. That's really impressive.ö
She came close to give him a hug and kiss on the cheek. Her gaze turned hard.
ôHowever, Draco, I have an ultimatum for you. You can either help me now or I will kill you. It's nothing personal, but this is a Grail War. I hope we can cooperate.ö
The wand was now pressed against his throat. Assassin appeared from the rubble and gave a look to Draco. Though he could not see behind the mask, Draco felt that such a look from his Servant was one of disappointment. Again, Draco was weak, and he loathed himself for his weakness.
xxx
Twin steels rang out on a dreary, grey morning. One had a was the color of polished bronze and gold while the other was pure silver that reflected light to turn it white. The white blade was easily the superior dancing around the guard of the bronze blade. However, with every strike that could easily turn into a killing blow, the bronze blade became that minuscule bit better.
ôReducto!ö
The explosive spell was not aimed at the wielder of the pure sword. Such a thing would have been pointless. However, the fragments of concrete were not governed by any magic resistance. The blade still ended less than an inch from a killing blow.
ôGetting better, Harry.ö
ôYou're still going easy on me, Archer.ö
ôYou'd die if I didn't. We Servants are at a completely different level.ö
Harry sat down and began to stretch.
ôYeah. I know.ö
ôYou seem a bit down? Is something wrong?ö
ôIt's been a bit strange lately. It just feels a bit more natural to do what I did just now and use the sword as my focus, shaping the spell with my intent rather than rote memorization of incantations and movements.ö
ôI'm no wizard, so do whatever works best for you. But you need to get up.ö
Archer spread her arms wide with a mocking grin. She then uttered three words.
ôCome at me.ö
Harry picked up the sword and they locked once more in a dance of blades. Though outwitted and overpowered at every turn, he became that little bit better. As for Archer, a look of pure bliss was on her face. To duel with her own Master that she had convinced to take up the way of the sword was not what she had expected when summoned as a Servant in the Holy Grail War. And so, the dance continued.
xxx
Thrust. Sweep. Shield bash. Sandals found purchase on the dust of the field. A spin, disrupting vision with a crimson cloak. A brutally short thrust of the butt spike. Lancer kicked up dust as he prepared his mind and body while fighting against the wind and air.
Each thrust was with the intention of killing. Each step contained the power to stop a charging bull. Each shield bash could smash apart a castle wall. Such was the overwhelming power of a Servant.
ôBravo, Lancer. I could not wish for a finer Servant than you.ö
Kosmas walked up, expensive sunglasses over his eyes.
ôThank you, Master,ö replied Lancer, dripping sweat.
The shield-bearing warrior gazed towards the sky before looking back at his Master.
ôI do fear something about this upcoming conflict,ö he stated.
ôWhat would that be?ö inquired Kosmas.
ôI fear that my Noble Phantasm would be required. To be absolutely frank, it would be necessary in single combat as I doubt that he would succumb to his wounds before he would muster the strength necessary to kill me. If you recall, Berserker becomes stronger with every blow which strikes him.ö
Nikolai Kosmas nodded and withdrew a small cigar from his pocket. He lit it up with a polished silver lighter. A thin stream of smoke was blown into the air.
ôI didn't know you were a smoker, Master.ö
ôIt's a bad habit of a youth misspent. I usually light up before something big like this. To be honest with myself, I'm concerned about this. We might have three Servants on our side, but Assassin and Caster, the two most devious, are wild cards at the moment.ö
The two walked over and sat on the ground.
ôSo Lancer, did you see the kids today?ö
ôI did. I don't want to let them down as a coach by getting killed. That would break their hearts.ö
ôYeah. I suppose it would.ö
Master and Servant lay down in the grass, gazing at the clouds.
xxx
The sickle-shaped magazine of 7.62 ammunition was rocked into the Type-56. She tweaked the reflex sight and practiced quick shots. This was the rifle with which Meiling Huang had drilled. The QBZ felt too strange after using the Type-56. The Czech CZ-52 pistol and Type-63 machine pistol went into holsters. After a moment, she took out the RPG-7. For a normal person, they would have been barely able to move under so much weight. However, with magic, she was easily able to lighten the load to something more bearable.
Rider squatted, palms pressed together. It was how he concentrated and meditated before going into battle. His weapons were laid out before him. Once more, Meiling Huang began to strip and clean her weapons.
ôAre you worried, Master?ö asked Rider, cracking one eye open.
ôI always get nervous and scared before I go into battle. I just use my courage to harness that fear as my own engine.ö
Rider nodded.
ôRider,ö she said, ôIf you can, try to kill Archer or her Master. I just don't like them.ö
ôUnderstood.ö
xxx
Saber, in her full battle regalia knelt down, genuflecting. The invisible sword's point was placed against the floor. Her head was bowed. Her lips moved but no sound issued forth.
Saber was praying. As for what she was praying, it could not be known. Perhaps mere worship and praise. Perhaps it was a petition for victory. Perhaps a request for the forgiveness of sins should she fall in battle.
Saber was a knight who held to that code of chivalry. As did most of the knights of her days, it was the custom to pray before battle. Even though her sword promised victory, she prayed. It might have been a mere prayer of thanks. It might have just been empty words, but Saber prayed.
Then, she stood up. Her Master was there by the door, watching. Saber smiled and brought a gauntleted hand onto the shoulder of Susan Bones. Then they left the room together as it was night, the designated time of battle.
The rest of Chapter 11. Right now, I'm going to put the story on hiatus. I just got an offer from a friend of mine to join his OELVN team and write/program a VN. Since the project is commercial (ie sell at convention), it takes precedence over fanfiction. So, the next chapter is likely to come sometime in July. Not giving up on the story, though.
xxx
ôYou ready, Archer?ö asked Harry.
Archer, in her full battle gear, nodded.
Harry checked over his things. Again, he had an enchanted coat. He had a few more potions of incendiary fun. He'd made a few more potions which he had already to used to boost his strength, speed, and toughness. He wasn't quite sure how his liver would take the mass ingestion of potions, but it was better to have a bad liver than to be dead.
The sword was at his waist. The wand was already in his hand. Harry swung the invisibility cloak over his shoulders as he walked out the door. Archer, now also invisible, supported him as they began the rooftop journey across the city.
Soon enough, buildings of the city gave way to the less densely populated outskirts. Having looked over the map and having a bird's eye view, the pair were able to quickly locate the pitch. They touched down at the top row of bleachers. Kosmas was waiting, sitting on a bench while smoking a cigarette. Harry wrinkled his nose. He could tolerate it in small quantities, but smoking annoyed him.
ôHello, Mr. Potter,ö said the man cordially.
They shook hands firmly.
ôAn excellent cloak you have there,ö he commented.
ôThank you, Mr. Kosmas. It's something of a family heirloom, a gift from my father.ö
ôI see.ö
ôGreetings,ö came the rough voice of the bronze-clad warrior.
ôHello, Lancer,ö said Archer.
The two of them clasped hands.
ôI suppose we will be working together tonight, Lancer.ö
ôIndeed, we will. As a knight, I give you my word that I shall not betray for this fight. Do you swear the same?ö
Archer paused to think before replying, saying, ôI swear that we shall fight as comrades for this coming battle.ö
ôA comrade, you say. For my generation of warriors and heroes, the bonds of comrades -hetairoi, as we would say- were taken quite seriously. I understand the reason for your deliberation, Knight of the Bow, and I appreciate it.ö
ôMy generation had a similar concept. We called them nakama, though.ö
Again, the two clasped hands and drew together this time in the embrace of friendly warriors.
Into the stadium walked another pair. Pale moonlight reflected from pure steel. Saber had arrived with her Master. Greetings were politely exchanged, but the holy knight remained separate from the others. However, the two understood that this was Saber's method of camraderie. It was found in the silence of mutual respect, just as the voice of Yaweh was revealed to the prophet Elijah not in cacophonous clamor. Instead, it was revealed in the silence as a small voice. The other Servants nodded, understanding.
Galloping across the sky like Odin upon Sleipnir, Rider descended down to the pitch. His Master was upon the saddle, armed to the teeth with a variety of the twentieth century's deadliest weapons. They were cold and quiet, not wanting to associate with the other Masters and Servants. She calmly and mechanically checked her equipment.
ôMr. Potter, how do you intend to bring Berserker to us?ö
ôTrust me, I have a plan,ö replied Harry.
Harry pulled out his wand. Bellatrix would recognize the sign and, like the bloodhound she was, follow him. However, she would go into a trap. He searched within himself and found that core of Harry Potter. He could feel the wand drawing from this much like a watermill drawing from the power of a river. Time seemed to freeze as he summoned up to the forefront of him mind a certain beautiful memory.
Archer's summoning.
At death's door that fated night, a connection across dimensions to bring about a crimson-clad savior.
The knight in red stood against the forces out for his blood without hesitation.
Whether god or devil, she would always be his savior in his hour of need.
ôExpecto Patronum!ö
The stag exploded from his wand. This stag was more full and real than any other he had ever created before. It was a royal stag, fit for a king with a crown of antlers. It bowed before its creator, the one that brought about its genesis.
ôSeek Bellatrix Lestrange and let her know that Harry Potter has challenged her.ö
The stag lowered its head further before flying off into the sky. The phantasm hurtled through the air like a shooting star. The white star returned after some time, all eyes upon it, alongside a coiling serpent of darkness attempting to overtake it. The nobility of the stag was in no way diminished by its chaser.
The stag impacted upon the field, dispersing into a white mist. The darkness exploded outward, revealing three. One, a familiar huntress, was Bellatrix herself. Another, crucifix reflecting bright against the light absorbing robes, was Berserker. A third, face steeled, was Draco Malfoy. However, Assassin was nowhere to be seen.
ôWhat the hell, Malfoy? I thought you said that you changed!ö yelled Susan in anger, echoing Harry's thoughts near-verbatim.
Four Servants stood against one.
Bellatrix held out her hand, presenting her Command Spells. As she spoke, it glowed red with power.
ôKill them Berserker.ö
With a might roar as powerful as a lion's, Berserker rushed forward. The bronze Lancer appeared in front of him. The fist as with as much force as a runaway train slammed against the hoplon. The shield rang like a church bell. With a roar of his own, Lancer pushed back the mad monk. Saber was calm and cold as she charged forth, resplendent in her beauty. The shredding winds ripped into the monk's robe, it did not kill. What did not kill him only made him stronger. Archer ran forward, sword still sheathed, with her hand by the guard of the sword. As she drew close enough to strike, she drew the sword and slashed in one motion. Berserker caught the blade in his teeth and punched, striking a blow to her chest. Were it not for her armor, she would have been gravely injured by the force. Rider spurred his horse, causing it to rear up. He drew his curved sword. The horse, without any equal in this modern era, galloped at speed to make a jet proud. If it could, the wind would have cried at such swiftness. Berserker dodged the hacking punch and brought his leg up to kick the horse. He sent it skidding and sliding along the field, obviously injuring it.
Moonlight reflected from spinning stone. The pure blade moved to intercept. Dextrous Archer spun the sickle around the blade of her sword like something from a game of horseshoes. A robed hand snatched up his weapon and moved to strike her upon the neck.
Assassin, expression unreadable behind the mask.
Archer, grin fierce as she drew the paired guns.
ôI've been waiting, Assassin. You up for Round 2?ö
ôSorry, Archer. I'm not in the mood for banter. I would simply like you dead and be done with it.ö
ôSorry you got stuck with a shitty plan, Assassin. Attacking another Servant when the Masters are right in front of you. That can't be fun.ö
Assassin's only response was to bend back at the waist to dodge a pair of bullets. He then flipped around the pair aimed at his legs. Archer advanced, pressing the Biblical murderer backwards. With every shot, the Servant was forced to give ground. Against any other Servant, it might have been an effective tactic. However, he fought against Archer, the undisputed master of long-range fighting in this war.
Assassin's eyes widened, as Archer could see from the eyeholes. She looked back and felt the warm breath of a horse. Rider smiled cruelly, bow at the ready. He shot a hornet-like warm of arrows. Assassin was forced to dodge.
ôDo not look so surprised Archer. Though I fight for the pleasure of war, I have some measure of respect for strong warriors. And you, Knight of the Bow, are quite strong.ö
Archer nodded.
ôGotcha', you piece of shit,ö muttered Meiling in her native Cantonese. The RPG was on her shoulder, high explosive round locked and loaded. The night scope held Bellatrix in its sights. With a click and a whoosh, the rocket was launched. Being a cheap, mass-produced weapon, it was not terribly accurate. However, accuracy was not of the utmost concern when using a rocket launcher due to the invention of the high-explosive warhead. This device, with which most wizards were unfamiliar, allowed the neutralization of soft target without a direct it. For this reason, Meiling loved it. Cocky wizards were unaware of the threat of the rocket. And Bellatrix Lestrange struck her as the cocky type.
Draco ran for cover upon seeing the rocket launch. Bellatrix just stood there, caught in her own world. With an offhand gesture of her wand a wall of earth rose up. However, mere dirt was no match for a high-explosive warhead. Bellatrix was showered in stone and shrapnel, not enough to kill but more than enough to disfigure her face and make her bleed. With a cry of rage, she prepared to cast another spell, but a burst of bullets quickly put an end to any offensive thoughts. Bellatrix attempted to break open the shooter's mind, but it was too hard and too focused. She might as well have been firing a handgun at a battleship, so strong were the mental defenses.
Brutal fists clashed against bronze. For every blow, a spear thrust was the answer. Ever unpredictable, the mad Berserker dodged the fatal blows and let each scratch fuel his rage, a rage merciless as the taiga's winter. In tandem with Lancer was Saber. The hurricane of her invisible blade tore at Berserker, but the results were the same. With every scratch, his endless rage strengthened him. Though his legend was nowhere near as famous as those of either Lancer or Saber, Mad Enhancement allowed the twentieth century Servant to measure up to otherwise superior foes. With his Noble Phantasm, his strength and ferocity grew with every strike. Therefore, it could be said that he was a perfect Berserker, a weak Servant who used a Noble Phantasm that did not require a sound mind to function and his class's Mad Enhancement to become on par with the most powerful of Servants.
Saber struck another blow against Berserker, but the reckless Servant closed the distance. His shoulder was shredded; however, he pushed forward to grab Saber's wrist. The lance speared into his side, but that only fueled his might. He swung the silver-armored servant into the bronze Lancer. There was no finesse to his attack, just audacity and fury.
The two Servants were sent flying away. Quickly, they were again on their feet.
ôI fear that it has come to this,ö remarked Lancer after spitting out some blood, ôI wish that I didn't have to do this around all the other Servants.ö
ôYou are about to unleash you Noble Phantasm, aren't you?ö asked Saber, calm in spite of the recent clash.
ôIndeed. Perhaps you know my legend, Knight of the Sword.ö
The hoplite slammed his spear against the hoplon. Berserker charged.
ôCome to me, brave warriors with whom I fought and died. Come, Amuntores Anaktos,ö Lancer paused, ôThe Brave 300!ö
Then, a ring of fire swept outward, finding all present on the battlefield. These were the flames of war. They found themselves in a narrow pass. On one end was Berserker and his allies. At the other end were Lancer's allies. However, in the middle, was Lancer. Around him were a number of scarlet-cloaked soldiers of bronze.
A struggle against overwhelming odds.
A legend of defiance.
A brave sacrifice.
The phalanx was thirty broad and ten deep. There was no doubt that each of these hoplites, the Royal Guard of Lancer, were all Heroic Spirits. When they were called to this grim field of battle, these gates of heat, they would also come to die alongside their king. The ritual oils used to anoint the dead could easily be smelt. This fragrance was mixed with blood, sweat, and death.
There was no doubt now as to the identity of Lancer. He was none other than King Leonidas of Sparta. Though the King's last stand was fought with a number of free Greeks, only the legend of the Brave 300 grew.
ôSons of Sparta,ö yelled the King, ôI have called upon you from beyond the grave to fight once more as comrades. We fight not only for our honor, but we fight for a wish. We fight for a chance to rewrite legend. Do you see your comrades from common Sparta or even the brave men of Thespis who fought alongside us 'til the very end?ö
ôNo, Lord,ö cried the Spartans.
ôIt is for those brave men we fight today, Sons of Sparta. With the wish granted by Holy Grail, we shall ensure that those men who fought alongside to the very end will be recalled in posterity so that we all might gather on this field once more.ö
ôSuch a grave injustice.ö
ôWhy do they forget Hellenic comradeship?ö
ôSpartans!ö yelled Leonidas, ôOur first obstacle is that man. He is called Berserker, but his true name is Rasputin. He is a priest gone mad. With every blow we strike, he will grow stronger. However, is he so strong as to resist the might of the Spartan phalanx?ö
ôNo, my King!ö cried the Spartans.
ôFollow me to victory!ö
It was at that moment that Berserker charged. Spittle flew from his mouth. The Spartans pressed forward, beginning as a march that soon turned into a charge. The Spartans were silent as they slammed into Berserker. Sandals dug into the rough dirt, each comrade supporting each other so that none would fall. Lances plunged their way into Berserker, but his rage at such injuries grew stronger. With a roar, he snapped the shafts. After rising up, Berserker seized one and smashed him upon the ground like a puppy. Another Spartan moved forward to take the place of the one mangled by the might of Berserker.
From the front of the battle line came the shout of Lancer.
ôKnight of the Sword, I do not feel that I will be able to kill this monster. I will mearly delay and injure him here. It is up to you to finish the job.ö
Saber nodded and spoke softly, ôI shall slay him.ö
ôGood!ö replied Lancer, having heard her over the clash of battle, ôOnward, Sons of Sparta!ö
And then, the Masters and Servants, with the exception of Berserker and Bellatrix were taken from Lancer's Reality Marble.
ôThis has gone too far, Draco. Please allow for our departure as we do not wish to fight you any longer,ö spoke Assassin.
ôLancer is indeed a might warrior,ö spoke Archer respectfully, ôI only wish that I could command such a legend as him.ö
Harry walked up to Archer and asked, ôBut you would still fight him if it came to that, right?
Archer replied, ôOf course, I would. I couldn't possibly resist a challenge like that.ö
Saber stood, sword of winds held out in front of her. The winds of her invisible sword began to rotate. And then, Lancer appeared, kneeling. He was battered. He spat out a tooth.
ôThe bastard is all your, Saber.ö
Berserker was there. He was covered in scores of wounds, but a powerful, icy rage consumed him. Eyes filled with hate bored into the two Servants.
Harry could only watch as dust was blown away. The air around Saber was perfectly clear. From her invisible sword came a storm, but it was not just any storm. This storm was a hurricane. Something was inside the wins, cloaked and hidden by them. It was then that Harry realized his mistake with regards to Saber. That was no invisible sword. The winds were merely concealing a holy sword of such great fame that it would be recognized in an instant.
ôSaber?ö asked Susan quietly to none but herself.
Berserker roared and charged, crucifix bouncing upon his chest. The golden light was reflected from it.
In one final spiral, the winds shed themselves from Saber's sword. It was gold and intensely beautiful. Such was to be expected of the strongest holy sword. The only other weapon that could hold a candle to it in beauty was Heaven, Archer's katana.
Berserker drew closer, fist wound back for a punch that, were it to connect, would easily kill Saber in a blow.
Saber held the sword above her head in preparation for a swing.
ôEx-ö
The sword turned into a manifestation of cleansing holiness. With it, victory was all but promised. Berseker punched. Saber brought down the sword.
ô-Calibur!ö
The wave of power, for there was no other way to describe the form of the cleansing holy light, went outward. It was so bright and beautiful that even the other Servants averted their eyes.
The wave of power went outward, but it was pointed toward the city of London.
ôOh goddamnit, Saber.ö
Caster was there in the air, preparing a spell to halt the destruction. A rippling curtain like the aurora borealis appeared in the air. It met the light of Excalibur. The purpose of this barrier was not to halt the Noble Phantasm. Against an attack that would crack open fortresses, even ones protected by the most powerful of enchantments, trying to stop it with direct force was futile. But such was not the purpose of the barrier. Its purpose was to speak with the Noble Phantasm, to appeal to its sense of honor, so that the innocents would not be slain.
Gold met the rainbow.
Sweat dripped from Caster's face. So intense was his determination that he wept tears of blood as he pleaded with Excalibur. But the Sword of Promised Victory listened and dispersed. Exhausted, the grey-cloaked Servant left as a savior without thanks.
In spite of it all, Berserker remained. He was intensely wounded and about to die, but he still drew breath. And he wept.
What had driven him to such depravity?
Why had he forsaken God?
Why must he be remembered for his evils?
He wept bitter tears. He not only recalled his life, but he recalled the horrors that Bellatrix had called upon him to commit.
He knelt down in front of Saber, hands clasped together.
He croaked with a voice capable of reason, ôI'm about to die. Saber, King of Knights, would you please pray for my soul.ö
Saber knelt down, hands resting upon the pommel of her sword.
ôYes,ö she answered.
And so, Rasputin began with Saber following, to pray the Hail Mary.
ôChaire, kechairetomene, ho kurios meta su.
Eulongemene sou en gunaixi
kai eulongemenos ho karpos tes koilias sou Iesus.
Hagia Maria, meter theou,
proseuche huper hemon ton hamartalon,
nun kai en te hora tou thanatou humon.
Amen.ö
ôThank you, Saber,ö said Rasputin as he faded away, smiling.
As the wind blew what remained of the Servant away, Saber replied, ôYou're welcome.ö
ôNo!ö screeched Bellatrix, ôYou piece-of-shit Servant. Don't you die like that!ö
Then, out of nowhere, a spinning crescent took off her head. Assassin materialized. He took his sickle and wiped it upon her corpse before spitting on it.
ôThis is for all the suffering and misery you caused,ö said Assassin, voice hard.
And so, they waited, five of the seven that had turned to six. The men under MacTavish removed the corpse and sealed off the area. Once they arrived, the Servants and their Masters were gone.
xxx
ôYou ready, Archer?ö asked Harry.
Archer, in her full battle gear, nodded.
Harry checked over his things. Again, he had an enchanted coat. He had a few more potions of incendiary fun. He'd made a few more potions which he had already to used to boost his strength, speed, and toughness. He wasn't quite sure how his liver would take the mass ingestion of potions, but it was better to have a bad liver than to be dead.
The sword was at his waist. The wand was already in his hand. Harry swung the invisibility cloak over his shoulders as he walked out the door. Archer, now also invisible, supported him as they began the rooftop journey across the city.
Soon enough, buildings of the city gave way to the less densely populated outskirts. Having looked over the map and having a bird's eye view, the pair were able to quickly locate the pitch. They touched down at the top row of bleachers. Kosmas was waiting, sitting on a bench while smoking a cigarette. Harry wrinkled his nose. He could tolerate it in small quantities, but smoking annoyed him.
ôHello, Mr. Potter,ö said the man cordially.
They shook hands firmly.
ôAn excellent cloak you have there,ö he commented.
ôThank you, Mr. Kosmas. It's something of a family heirloom, a gift from my father.ö
ôI see.ö
ôGreetings,ö came the rough voice of the bronze-clad warrior.
ôHello, Lancer,ö said Archer.
The two of them clasped hands.
ôI suppose we will be working together tonight, Lancer.ö
ôIndeed, we will. As a knight, I give you my word that I shall not betray for this fight. Do you swear the same?ö
Archer paused to think before replying, saying, ôI swear that we shall fight as comrades for this coming battle.ö
ôA comrade, you say. For my generation of warriors and heroes, the bonds of comrades -hetairoi, as we would say- were taken quite seriously. I understand the reason for your deliberation, Knight of the Bow, and I appreciate it.ö
ôMy generation had a similar concept. We called them nakama, though.ö
Again, the two clasped hands and drew together this time in the embrace of friendly warriors.
Into the stadium walked another pair. Pale moonlight reflected from pure steel. Saber had arrived with her Master. Greetings were politely exchanged, but the holy knight remained separate from the others. However, the two understood that this was Saber's method of camraderie. It was found in the silence of mutual respect, just as the voice of Yaweh was revealed to the prophet Elijah not in cacophonous clamor. Instead, it was revealed in the silence as a small voice. The other Servants nodded, understanding.
Galloping across the sky like Odin upon Sleipnir, Rider descended down to the pitch. His Master was upon the saddle, armed to the teeth with a variety of the twentieth century's deadliest weapons. They were cold and quiet, not wanting to associate with the other Masters and Servants. She calmly and mechanically checked her equipment.
ôMr. Potter, how do you intend to bring Berserker to us?ö
ôTrust me, I have a plan,ö replied Harry.
Harry pulled out his wand. Bellatrix would recognize the sign and, like the bloodhound she was, follow him. However, she would go into a trap. He searched within himself and found that core of Harry Potter. He could feel the wand drawing from this much like a watermill drawing from the power of a river. Time seemed to freeze as he summoned up to the forefront of him mind a certain beautiful memory.
Archer's summoning.
At death's door that fated night, a connection across dimensions to bring about a crimson-clad savior.
The knight in red stood against the forces out for his blood without hesitation.
Whether god or devil, she would always be his savior in his hour of need.
ôExpecto Patronum!ö
The stag exploded from his wand. This stag was more full and real than any other he had ever created before. It was a royal stag, fit for a king with a crown of antlers. It bowed before its creator, the one that brought about its genesis.
ôSeek Bellatrix Lestrange and let her know that Harry Potter has challenged her.ö
The stag lowered its head further before flying off into the sky. The phantasm hurtled through the air like a shooting star. The white star returned after some time, all eyes upon it, alongside a coiling serpent of darkness attempting to overtake it. The nobility of the stag was in no way diminished by its chaser.
The stag impacted upon the field, dispersing into a white mist. The darkness exploded outward, revealing three. One, a familiar huntress, was Bellatrix herself. Another, crucifix reflecting bright against the light absorbing robes, was Berserker. A third, face steeled, was Draco Malfoy. However, Assassin was nowhere to be seen.
ôWhat the hell, Malfoy? I thought you said that you changed!ö yelled Susan in anger, echoing Harry's thoughts near-verbatim.
Four Servants stood against one.
Bellatrix held out her hand, presenting her Command Spells. As she spoke, it glowed red with power.
ôKill them Berserker.ö
With a might roar as powerful as a lion's, Berserker rushed forward. The bronze Lancer appeared in front of him. The fist as with as much force as a runaway train slammed against the hoplon. The shield rang like a church bell. With a roar of his own, Lancer pushed back the mad monk. Saber was calm and cold as she charged forth, resplendent in her beauty. The shredding winds ripped into the monk's robe, it did not kill. What did not kill him only made him stronger. Archer ran forward, sword still sheathed, with her hand by the guard of the sword. As she drew close enough to strike, she drew the sword and slashed in one motion. Berserker caught the blade in his teeth and punched, striking a blow to her chest. Were it not for her armor, she would have been gravely injured by the force. Rider spurred his horse, causing it to rear up. He drew his curved sword. The horse, without any equal in this modern era, galloped at speed to make a jet proud. If it could, the wind would have cried at such swiftness. Berserker dodged the hacking punch and brought his leg up to kick the horse. He sent it skidding and sliding along the field, obviously injuring it.
Moonlight reflected from spinning stone. The pure blade moved to intercept. Dextrous Archer spun the sickle around the blade of her sword like something from a game of horseshoes. A robed hand snatched up his weapon and moved to strike her upon the neck.
Assassin, expression unreadable behind the mask.
Archer, grin fierce as she drew the paired guns.
ôI've been waiting, Assassin. You up for Round 2?ö
ôSorry, Archer. I'm not in the mood for banter. I would simply like you dead and be done with it.ö
ôSorry you got stuck with a shitty plan, Assassin. Attacking another Servant when the Masters are right in front of you. That can't be fun.ö
Assassin's only response was to bend back at the waist to dodge a pair of bullets. He then flipped around the pair aimed at his legs. Archer advanced, pressing the Biblical murderer backwards. With every shot, the Servant was forced to give ground. Against any other Servant, it might have been an effective tactic. However, he fought against Archer, the undisputed master of long-range fighting in this war.
Assassin's eyes widened, as Archer could see from the eyeholes. She looked back and felt the warm breath of a horse. Rider smiled cruelly, bow at the ready. He shot a hornet-like warm of arrows. Assassin was forced to dodge.
ôDo not look so surprised Archer. Though I fight for the pleasure of war, I have some measure of respect for strong warriors. And you, Knight of the Bow, are quite strong.ö
Archer nodded.
ôGotcha', you piece of shit,ö muttered Meiling in her native Cantonese. The RPG was on her shoulder, high explosive round locked and loaded. The night scope held Bellatrix in its sights. With a click and a whoosh, the rocket was launched. Being a cheap, mass-produced weapon, it was not terribly accurate. However, accuracy was not of the utmost concern when using a rocket launcher due to the invention of the high-explosive warhead. This device, with which most wizards were unfamiliar, allowed the neutralization of soft target without a direct it. For this reason, Meiling loved it. Cocky wizards were unaware of the threat of the rocket. And Bellatrix Lestrange struck her as the cocky type.
Draco ran for cover upon seeing the rocket launch. Bellatrix just stood there, caught in her own world. With an offhand gesture of her wand a wall of earth rose up. However, mere dirt was no match for a high-explosive warhead. Bellatrix was showered in stone and shrapnel, not enough to kill but more than enough to disfigure her face and make her bleed. With a cry of rage, she prepared to cast another spell, but a burst of bullets quickly put an end to any offensive thoughts. Bellatrix attempted to break open the shooter's mind, but it was too hard and too focused. She might as well have been firing a handgun at a battleship, so strong were the mental defenses.
Brutal fists clashed against bronze. For every blow, a spear thrust was the answer. Ever unpredictable, the mad Berserker dodged the fatal blows and let each scratch fuel his rage, a rage merciless as the taiga's winter. In tandem with Lancer was Saber. The hurricane of her invisible blade tore at Berserker, but the results were the same. With every scratch, his endless rage strengthened him. Though his legend was nowhere near as famous as those of either Lancer or Saber, Mad Enhancement allowed the twentieth century Servant to measure up to otherwise superior foes. With his Noble Phantasm, his strength and ferocity grew with every strike. Therefore, it could be said that he was a perfect Berserker, a weak Servant who used a Noble Phantasm that did not require a sound mind to function and his class's Mad Enhancement to become on par with the most powerful of Servants.
Saber struck another blow against Berserker, but the reckless Servant closed the distance. His shoulder was shredded; however, he pushed forward to grab Saber's wrist. The lance speared into his side, but that only fueled his might. He swung the silver-armored servant into the bronze Lancer. There was no finesse to his attack, just audacity and fury.
The two Servants were sent flying away. Quickly, they were again on their feet.
ôI fear that it has come to this,ö remarked Lancer after spitting out some blood, ôI wish that I didn't have to do this around all the other Servants.ö
ôYou are about to unleash you Noble Phantasm, aren't you?ö asked Saber, calm in spite of the recent clash.
ôIndeed. Perhaps you know my legend, Knight of the Sword.ö
The hoplite slammed his spear against the hoplon. Berserker charged.
ôCome to me, brave warriors with whom I fought and died. Come, Amuntores Anaktos,ö Lancer paused, ôThe Brave 300!ö
Then, a ring of fire swept outward, finding all present on the battlefield. These were the flames of war. They found themselves in a narrow pass. On one end was Berserker and his allies. At the other end were Lancer's allies. However, in the middle, was Lancer. Around him were a number of scarlet-cloaked soldiers of bronze.
A struggle against overwhelming odds.
A legend of defiance.
A brave sacrifice.
The phalanx was thirty broad and ten deep. There was no doubt that each of these hoplites, the Royal Guard of Lancer, were all Heroic Spirits. When they were called to this grim field of battle, these gates of heat, they would also come to die alongside their king. The ritual oils used to anoint the dead could easily be smelt. This fragrance was mixed with blood, sweat, and death.
There was no doubt now as to the identity of Lancer. He was none other than King Leonidas of Sparta. Though the King's last stand was fought with a number of free Greeks, only the legend of the Brave 300 grew.
ôSons of Sparta,ö yelled the King, ôI have called upon you from beyond the grave to fight once more as comrades. We fight not only for our honor, but we fight for a wish. We fight for a chance to rewrite legend. Do you see your comrades from common Sparta or even the brave men of Thespis who fought alongside us 'til the very end?ö
ôNo, Lord,ö cried the Spartans.
ôIt is for those brave men we fight today, Sons of Sparta. With the wish granted by Holy Grail, we shall ensure that those men who fought alongside to the very end will be recalled in posterity so that we all might gather on this field once more.ö
ôSuch a grave injustice.ö
ôWhy do they forget Hellenic comradeship?ö
ôSpartans!ö yelled Leonidas, ôOur first obstacle is that man. He is called Berserker, but his true name is Rasputin. He is a priest gone mad. With every blow we strike, he will grow stronger. However, is he so strong as to resist the might of the Spartan phalanx?ö
ôNo, my King!ö cried the Spartans.
ôFollow me to victory!ö
It was at that moment that Berserker charged. Spittle flew from his mouth. The Spartans pressed forward, beginning as a march that soon turned into a charge. The Spartans were silent as they slammed into Berserker. Sandals dug into the rough dirt, each comrade supporting each other so that none would fall. Lances plunged their way into Berserker, but his rage at such injuries grew stronger. With a roar, he snapped the shafts. After rising up, Berserker seized one and smashed him upon the ground like a puppy. Another Spartan moved forward to take the place of the one mangled by the might of Berserker.
From the front of the battle line came the shout of Lancer.
ôKnight of the Sword, I do not feel that I will be able to kill this monster. I will mearly delay and injure him here. It is up to you to finish the job.ö
Saber nodded and spoke softly, ôI shall slay him.ö
ôGood!ö replied Lancer, having heard her over the clash of battle, ôOnward, Sons of Sparta!ö
And then, the Masters and Servants, with the exception of Berserker and Bellatrix were taken from Lancer's Reality Marble.
ôThis has gone too far, Draco. Please allow for our departure as we do not wish to fight you any longer,ö spoke Assassin.
ôLancer is indeed a might warrior,ö spoke Archer respectfully, ôI only wish that I could command such a legend as him.ö
Harry walked up to Archer and asked, ôBut you would still fight him if it came to that, right?
Archer replied, ôOf course, I would. I couldn't possibly resist a challenge like that.ö
Saber stood, sword of winds held out in front of her. The winds of her invisible sword began to rotate. And then, Lancer appeared, kneeling. He was battered. He spat out a tooth.
ôThe bastard is all your, Saber.ö
Berserker was there. He was covered in scores of wounds, but a powerful, icy rage consumed him. Eyes filled with hate bored into the two Servants.
Harry could only watch as dust was blown away. The air around Saber was perfectly clear. From her invisible sword came a storm, but it was not just any storm. This storm was a hurricane. Something was inside the wins, cloaked and hidden by them. It was then that Harry realized his mistake with regards to Saber. That was no invisible sword. The winds were merely concealing a holy sword of such great fame that it would be recognized in an instant.
ôSaber?ö asked Susan quietly to none but herself.
Berserker roared and charged, crucifix bouncing upon his chest. The golden light was reflected from it.
In one final spiral, the winds shed themselves from Saber's sword. It was gold and intensely beautiful. Such was to be expected of the strongest holy sword. The only other weapon that could hold a candle to it in beauty was Heaven, Archer's katana.
Berserker drew closer, fist wound back for a punch that, were it to connect, would easily kill Saber in a blow.
Saber held the sword above her head in preparation for a swing.
ôEx-ö
The sword turned into a manifestation of cleansing holiness. With it, victory was all but promised. Berseker punched. Saber brought down the sword.
ô-Calibur!ö
The wave of power, for there was no other way to describe the form of the cleansing holy light, went outward. It was so bright and beautiful that even the other Servants averted their eyes.
The wave of power went outward, but it was pointed toward the city of London.
ôOh goddamnit, Saber.ö
Caster was there in the air, preparing a spell to halt the destruction. A rippling curtain like the aurora borealis appeared in the air. It met the light of Excalibur. The purpose of this barrier was not to halt the Noble Phantasm. Against an attack that would crack open fortresses, even ones protected by the most powerful of enchantments, trying to stop it with direct force was futile. But such was not the purpose of the barrier. Its purpose was to speak with the Noble Phantasm, to appeal to its sense of honor, so that the innocents would not be slain.
Gold met the rainbow.
Sweat dripped from Caster's face. So intense was his determination that he wept tears of blood as he pleaded with Excalibur. But the Sword of Promised Victory listened and dispersed. Exhausted, the grey-cloaked Servant left as a savior without thanks.
In spite of it all, Berserker remained. He was intensely wounded and about to die, but he still drew breath. And he wept.
What had driven him to such depravity?
Why had he forsaken God?
Why must he be remembered for his evils?
He wept bitter tears. He not only recalled his life, but he recalled the horrors that Bellatrix had called upon him to commit.
He knelt down in front of Saber, hands clasped together.
He croaked with a voice capable of reason, ôI'm about to die. Saber, King of Knights, would you please pray for my soul.ö
Saber knelt down, hands resting upon the pommel of her sword.
ôYes,ö she answered.
And so, Rasputin began with Saber following, to pray the Hail Mary.
ôChaire, kechairetomene, ho kurios meta su.
Eulongemene sou en gunaixi
kai eulongemenos ho karpos tes koilias sou Iesus.
Hagia Maria, meter theou,
proseuche huper hemon ton hamartalon,
nun kai en te hora tou thanatou humon.
Amen.ö
ôThank you, Saber,ö said Rasputin as he faded away, smiling.
As the wind blew what remained of the Servant away, Saber replied, ôYou're welcome.ö
ôNo!ö screeched Bellatrix, ôYou piece-of-shit Servant. Don't you die like that!ö
Then, out of nowhere, a spinning crescent took off her head. Assassin materialized. He took his sickle and wiped it upon her corpse before spitting on it.
ôThis is for all the suffering and misery you caused,ö said Assassin, voice hard.
And so, they waited, five of the seven that had turned to six. The men under MacTavish removed the corpse and sealed off the area. Once they arrived, the Servants and their Masters were gone.
Here is, after some time, a new chapter. It's something of a day in limelight for a very special secondary character. Please feel free to critique.
Chapter 12
Live Bait
Harry and Archer stood in the small courtyard, standing apart. The falling moon partially illuminated the two. A soft breeze rustled their clothes. Harry made a move as if to step toward Archer, but he pulled back abruptly.
ôWhat now, Archer?ö
ôBerserker is dead. That means that we have five more to go. Damn.ö
Harry walked closer to his Servant, within an arm's length.
ôWe've got this; I trust you.ö
ôSaber, Lancer, and even Caster are stronger than me! The only ones that I could beat right now are Assassin and Rider.ö
ôArcher...ö
Harry wanted to say more, but he could not find the words. He wanted to approach, but he could feel the fires smoldering around her.
ôGood night, Archer. I'm going to make something special for breakfast to celebrate our victory.ö
At that moment, he turned away to go inside. Harry gave one last look at Archer before he walked away. Archer could hear his footsteps recede. She growled as she punched the ground, slamming her fist again and again. The concrete cracked.
ô...Doesn't deserve someone so weak,ö muttered Archer. She put a round into the concrete for good measure. A slight wind dispersed the smoke, leaving Archer exhausted and forlorn.
xxx
Meiling tapped the side of the massive Ford van as she drove through the slow-speed streets of the suburbs. The heavy wheels rolled over any obstacles in their way. Rider sat back in mortal clothing as he played with the radio. For all of the faults of the decade-old van, the radio worked well. Rider had set it to a dance music station. It was then that she noticed something new about the van; the speakers did not handle bass well.
ôRider, would you please stop. It feels like the van is going to rattle itself apart.ö
He gave her a smirking glance.
ôWould you at least turn it down?ö
The Servant smiled kindly and turned down the volume. As they began to enter an intersection, having stopped at the sign, a car screamed past. Meiling slammed on the brakes. Then she honked the horn at the rapidly receding car. She could have sworn that she recognized the driver. He wore a neat suit, but his features were obscured. She could feel a mocking laughter from the dust.
ôCaster,ö growled Rider.
ôHe's dangerous. He could probably wipe out everyone but Saber if he really wanted to do so. I hope we could manipulate his grudge into offing Potter. Not sure how, though. If that happens, we are the undisputed masters of ranged combat.ö
ôI'd like to catch him and pour molten silver down his throat.ö
ôCaster, Potter, or Archer?ö
ôIn that case, all of the above.ö
Meiling chuckled.
ôHe seems like a pretty good kid. I wouldn't mind someone like him on my team.ö
ôAlliances typically preclude the plan we are about to enact; this sort of thing usually antagonizes, Master.ö
She snorted.
ôIf things were different. Right now, I'm just interested in crushing him.ö
ôYou say that, but I don't think you mean it. You like his sense of justice. If you want him that badly, I can simply kill Archer. I'd leave breaking him to you.ö
ôThat's not a just way of doing things. The only way that he would follow me would be if he were to join me willingly. With Archer, bitch that she is, I don't see that happening.ö
ôShe is a worthy foe. I might not like her, but she's the only one with whom I feel a kinship.ö
ôSo, Rider,ö asked Meiling, ôAre you having any doubts?ö
ôNo, I'd rather fight against those two than fight with them. More importantly, do you have any doubts?ö
ôA few. As I said, Potter is the sort of person that I would want backing me up. I'll engage him and wreck him, and you'll engage Archer and kill her.ö
ôWhat do you mean by 'wreck?'ö asked Rider, genuinely curious.
ôI don't want to kill him at this point, anyway. Maybe chain him up for a few weeks until the war is over. After that, he'll get a choice. If he wants, he can follow me and grow more powerful than he ever could at Hogwarts. On the other hand, he can return to normalcy. Obviously, I'd like an apprentice; however, I'm not so deep into black-ops that I'm going force someone to do something when it isn't necessary.ö
Rider gave her a half-smiling, half-frowning look before he spoke.
ôMaster, you're really something of a romantic.ö
She shrugged and smiled.
ôYou can't go into a Grail War unless you're some sort of bleeding-heart with an wish that's worth murdering a few people to fulfill.ö
Rider laughed uproariously, slamming his fist against the dashboard.
ôI love that dichotomy. Your heart is both so bloodstained and so pure. I don't think I could settle for another Master.ö
ôThanks, Rider.ö
The drive continued in a pleasant manner. It was a very nice day.
ôMaster, do you remember Normandy?ö
ôI do...ö
xxx
Normandy, France: January 1996
The tender snow fell lightly, each flake beautiful and delicate. Such beauty was sullied as the flakes landed and mixed with the dirt. The beauty was sullied further as ashes fell onto the white that had built up over the dirty slush at the bottom. Meiling Huang looked at the rows upon rows of crosses, occasionally interspersed with a star of David.
ôWhat do you think, Rider?ö she asked the massive figure whom she had given a greatcoat.
ôIt's truly something.ö
ôThis is how wars are fought now. It isn't so much the mighty warrior as it is games of go played out with millions of men as the stones.ö
ôIt's not something that I hate. In fact, I think I would enjoy this sort of battle. Now, the power at the disposal of a great general is far greater than in my day. Now, a general can conduct campaigns with a speed I could have only dreamed of. When I think of the men who first hit the beaches and died in seconds, I smile. The swiftness and random nature of the deaths make the heroism of those who rose above even braver.ö
His Master smiled as she exhaled another breath of smoke into the cold night air.
ôSorry to interrupt, but you're in my way,ö came a saccharine voice.
Meiling took another drag on her cigarette as she turned to face the newcomer. She was a young girl, perhaps seventeen. She wore a dark, double-breasted coat with an elegant fur hat. The Master of Rider raised an eyebrow as she unbuttoned her jacket to flash the Type-80 machine pistol. Slowly, she drew it from its shoulder holster
ôYou can always go around. We aren't blocking the way. In fact, we'll even move out of the way.ö
ôNo, I do believe that you are in our way,ö said another with a deep voice.
A cloaked figure materialized from the shadows. He carried his wand in a mirror of Meiling's stance with the pistol, mocking her.
ôServant Caster, I presume,ö boomed her Servant as he cast aside the modern coat for his elaborate robes and fur-adorned armor. The powerful compound bow appeared in his hands.
ôRider, what a pleasure it is to make your acquaintance.ö
ôThe feelings are not mutual. Do you want to die that badly?ö
ôDie? I've got something to do here before I'm defeated. I won't die on this foreign shore.ö
ôI'm afraid that I forgot to introduce myself,ö said the girl as she drew close to Meiling, extending her hand, ôI'm Elise von Schaefer.ö
ôScion of the von Schaefer? I'll bet you're out on a hunt for the last of the Potters. I'm Meiling Huang, sorry about how nondescript it is.ö
The two shook hands.
ôHow did you know about Potter?ö
ôIt's relatively common knowledge that the von Schaefer family isn't happy about how those who would become the Potters split, taking away a fair amount of wealth and knowledge. I doubt that he knows it, since his family is dead.ö
ôI see. You're an interesting woman. What do you think about the upcoming reunification of Hong Kong with the mainland?ö
Meiling shrugged.
ôI'm just curious whether they're going to get that airport built in time. It was nice to meet you.ö
ôYou know the drill, Caster,ö ordered Elise.
The grey-clad Servant lunged forward, pointing his wand like a fencer points an epee. The ground around Rider exploded, but the horseman jumped over the globe of destruction on top of his horse. He pulled back on his bow and released the arrow in midair. It cleaved through the wind faster than sound. However, Caster had already teleported away with a crack.
ôBastard,ö growled Rider, ôLaying waste to such a memorial.ö
ôThe past is best left in its natural state, dust,ö quipped Caster, hurling another bolt at Rider. The mounted archer shrewdly took a shot which cleaved the bolt in two.
ôAre we not both dust and to dust shall we not return?ö answered Rider.
ôWho said that Heroic Spirit must only be the ashes of some king or warlord?ö
Rider hit ground and slid to the side of his fierce mount, dodging another bolt. However, the mounted warrior had fallen into Caster's trap. At his feet, a red pentagram formed, which spread to cover much of the memorial. Rotten hands in the rags of uniforms clawed from the earth, which hastened to disgorge them. They carried rusted and battered rifles, chipped bayonets, and malevolent points of purple light where their eyes would be.
Caster stood at the front of the ranks of his undead army. The souls torn from their resting places cocked their weapons.
ôThose uniforms shouldn't be intact,ö yelled Meiling.
ôI know,ö he said nonchalantly, ôI merely stuffed their souls into containers that I thought to be appropriate for this ground.ö
Snarling, Meiling took aim and fired a burst of rounds at the Schaefer girl. Caster was already there as he took the shots without harm. In his hand, was a lead rose, which he then handed to his Master. She turned her aim from the enemy Master to empty her magazine into the horde with no effect. Meiling withdrew from a holster inside her pants a gleaming Smith and Wesson Model 36 revolver.
ôI never thought I'd get to bring this out.ö
She took aim at the first undead soldier. As the bullet struck him, he turned to dust. As the bullet struck the one behind the first, he too turned to dust. Rider was already hurling a storm of arrows into the throng.
ôMaster, give the command.ö
She smiled despite the bullets and arrows flying around her and pointed at the Servant and Master.
Elise von Schaefer then said two words, ôFeur Frei.ö
At the command to ôfire freely,ö they opened with a murderous fusillade of bullets. The bullets bore with them the same hatred of their firers. Meiling dropped and focused on her command seals.
ôRider, get us out of here!ö she ordered with a burning palm.
At once, Rider was by her side. He threw her onto the horse and jumped high into the sky, far from the hornet's nest below.
xxx
ôCaster is on my shit list,ö admitted Meiling.
ôFor me, that list is more along the lines of my killing, maiming, and burning than excrement.ö
She gave him a sideways glance.
ôWe're just about there, Rider.ö
ôDoes the plan really require you to say that, Master?ö
ôIt isn't, strictly speaking, necessary; however, I've always wanted to say that.ö
The van drove into a quiet suburb before stopping at one particular house, No.4 Privet Drive. Meiling opened the door and smoothed out the wrinkled from her green officer's uniform. As she walked outside, she put on the peaked garrison cover decorated with red and gold. She took a pair of white gloves stuffed in her belt to put those on.
ôHow official do I look?ö she asked.
ôVery.ö
She adjusted the leather holster for her favorite gun, her old Type 80, as she marched with precise steps to the door. She knocked and waited. The door was answered within a few minutes by a large, middle-aged man.
ôAre you Mr. Vernon Dursley?ö she asked.
ôI am,ö he answered with a measured response, ôWho might you be?ö
ôMy name is Meiling Huang and I represent the People's Liberation Army Special Circumstances unit of the People's Republic of China,ö she replied, crisply handing over a business card.
ôI'm afraid that I can't read this,ö he said.
ôThe English is on the reverse face. My apologies, Mr. Dursley.ö
Cautiously, he looked from the card to her before handing it back.
ôCan you provide any other ID?ö he asked cautiously, glancing at the leather holster.
ôOf course, sir,ö she said, pulling a badge from her left breast pocket.
He examined the badge and said, ôThank you. What do you want? By the way, your English is quite good.ö
ôThank you. I often deal with international events. May I come in? This requires a great deal of explanation.ö
ôYes, you may. Would you mind leaving the, uh, pistol off to the side?ö
She smiled curtly and replied, ôOf course, sir. I suppose that having a secret-police sort of person come knocking at your doorstep with a sidearm is rather disconcerting. I'm not here for that sort of thing.ö
ôPetunia!ö he called, ôWe have a guest, could you make her some tea.ö
ôComing!ö came the reply from the back of the house.
Meiling entered, removing the cover. She looked around for somewhere to place her pistol. Eventually, she decided to hang it on a hat rack along with her cover. Smoothing out her skirt, she sat down onto the pleasantly soft couch. His wife, one Mrs. Petunia Dursley came out to meet her. Mrs. Dursley was thin as a rail, almost emaciated, but she moved with a certain amount of nervous energy.
ôWho might you be?ö she asked with a voice both polite and nervous.
ôI am Lieutenant Meiling Huang of the People's Liberation Army Special Circumstances. In short, I'm here to discuss the role of your adopted son, Harry Potter, in the conflict against the supernatural terrorist Voldemort and his Death Eater organization.ö
ôOh my,ö replied the middle-aged woman.
ôI'd rather not rush that discussion. Time is not an issue, but I don't plan on overstaying my welcome. I do have a hotel, so I'm not rushed to conclude this business today.ö
She smiled pleasantly, as his wife moved away to make a few cups of tea. For his part, Vernon sat down comfortably in an armchair across from Meiling.
ôWhat do you think about the Hong Kong business?ö he asked, trying to prevent any ice from forming.
ôIt's funny that you should mention that. People have been asking me that a lot whenever I mention that I'm a national of mainland China. In fact, a German asked me something similar when I was in Normandy briefly.ö
ôI'm sorry if you get that a lot.ö
ôI'm not offended. I'm happy about the reunification in a vague, nationalistic sense. What really interests me, as I said to the German girl, is the construction of the Hong Kong International Airport to replace the old Kai Tak Airport.ö
Vernon leaned back and nodded.
ôI had to make a trip to Hong Kong in 1989 in a jumbo jet. That was probably the scariest landing I've ever made. The landing gear were floating a few yards from the roofs of residential buildings and power lines.ö
ôI've had that fun experience as well. For me, I was more frightened when the flight had to bank around a mountain on the approach.ö
The two laughed.
ôFunnily enough,ö said Vernon, ôThis is probably the first time that I've talked with someone from mainland China. I probably met a few on that business trip, but nothing like this. You seem like a remarkably decent ladyö
ôThank you very much.ö
ôHere come the tea,ö said Petunia as she entered. She poured a cup for the guest first. Meiling graciously accepted it, but declined milk and sugar. The three sat back down.
ôWould you mind calling your sons since this concerns them?ö
ôHarry is out right now, but I can get Dudley.ö
ôThank you, I understand.ö
ôDudley!ö she yelled, ôWe have a guest that wants to meet you.ö
There was a loud stomping as he came down the stairs. Once he came into sight, Meiling realized that it wasn't stomping; Dudley was just that large. It was hard to avoid any outward disgust or mirth as he ogled her with shoddy subtlety.
ôMeiling Huang, a pleasure to meet you,ö she said in a businesslike fashion, extending her hand. He shook it.
ôNow that we're all here, I believe it's time to get down to business.ö
She examined the family that was about to become her victims.
ôMr. Dursley, does this rag smell like chloroform to you?ö
With that, she snatched a chloroform-soaked rag from her jacket's pocket to shove in his face. He was out in seconds. His wife began to scream. The shock gave her a few seconds to cast a silencing spell. Dudley was moving in to crush her. Even if she had years of training, she was still barely over five feet in height and was barely over one-hundred twenty pounds in weight. Facing her, Dudley was nearly six feet tall and at least two-hundred twenty pounds. However, Meiling conjured to mind a phrase which she had heard in America that seemed particularly fitting: ôGod made all men, but Samuel Colt made them equal.ö
Meiling drew from a holster concealed within her skirt's waistband her snub-nosed Smith and Wesson. At this range, she didn't need to aim. She just needed to point and shoot. He could see her wild grin and knew that he might be in over his head. Meiling fanned the revolver, emptying five rounds of rubber bullets into him in less than three seconds. The pattern was wide, but all the shots connected. One in the shoulder, two in the gut, one in the solar plexus, and one in the ribs. The pain slowed him down enough for a high kick to drop him, breaking his nose with a gruesome snap. It was a mere formality to put Petunia into a blood choke.
ôRider, come here and secure them.ö
The Servant came into the room and began to cuff them as she retrieved her cover, pistol, and other evidence at the scene. By that time, Rider had already bound them with handcuffs.
As she walked out, a cloaked figure revealed herself, pointing a wand at the Chinese Master. Meiling's eyes hardened as she stopped and lifted up her hands.
ôStop right there! Keep you hands where I can see them!ö yelled the cloaked woman.
ôAn undercover auror? If you'll excuse me, I'm going home.ö
ôYou're under arrest?ö
ôDo you want to start an incident with the Chinese Army? That's what will happen if this continues,ö bluffed Meiling, knowing that this wasn't authorized, even if her superiors wouldn't be unduly bothered.
ôStupefy!ö cast the woman, hurling the red bolt at her uniformed opposite.
Meiling brought her hand down into a hammer strike. Instead of striking and disabling her, the spell dissipated as if it had hit a wall. In a smooth motion, Meiling drew her Type 80, checked her sight picture, and put a round into the woman. The crack of the bullet felt far too loud, but the satisfying smack of lead on flesh made up for it. Meiling was even happier that she had decided to load her gun with hollow points this morning. The witch disappeared with a crack.
ôMove it Rider!ö barked Meiling.
ôAlready done,ö said the Servant, materializing behind her, ôThe cargo is loaded.ö
She nodded in assent and hopped in the car as people emerged onto porches. It didn't matter at this point. She had already cast a charm on the car to fudge its identification. Laughing, she drove away from the scene.
ôI have one thing to ask, Mater,ö said Rider, settling into his seat.
ôName it.ö
ôHow did you get past that blood protection surrounding the house? I had to use brute force to claw my way in.ö
ôSimple, though it was a bit of a gamble. Some research led me to conclude that there was a blood ward which prevented those with hostile intent toward Harry Potter from entering.ö
ôSo that talk earlier was to put yourself into a mindset without hostile intent to Potter.ö
ôNo, that was genuine. I feel a little bad about the cold shoulder I gave him. I gambled that the wards would let me past since I didn't intend to kill him or hand him over to be killed.ö
ôYou're softer than I thought, Master.ö
ôYou called me a romantic earlier, didn't you?ö
ôMy respect is undiminished, but I just find this facet of yours to be quite amusing.ö
She playfully slapped his arm.
ôThrough thick and thin, I wouldn't want any other Servant.ö
Rider smiled.
xxx
With a loud crack, Tonks apparated near Hogwarts. Her face was pale. Blood dripped with every step. That woman had attacked her with one of the muggle firearms, and the projectile came too quickly for her to react.
Stumbling, she walked to great doors. With feeble arms, she knocked with the ornamental knocker. She hoped that someone heard. Her head felt lighter and lighter and the last thing she saw before she could see no more was Dumbledore's beard as he opened the door.
Tonks awoke to find herself alive and in the hospital wing of her alma mater. Her stomach hurt a great deal, but she smiled in spite of the pain. She had survived.
ôHow are you feeling?ö
It was Dumbledore's deep voice, gravely serious.
ôI've been hurt pretty badly, but that was probably the worst.ö
ôIt was a very nasty wound. You were shot with a bullet three-tenths of an inch in diameter. It hit you and its hollow point caused it to mushroom to about one-half of an inch while bits and pieces broke away to perforate other parts of your body.ö
ôThat's nasty. Is that the latest that muggles can do?ö
ôNo, the bullet design is probably fifty-years old. It can still make you just as dead.ö
Tonks groaned and propped herself up.
ôDon't strain yourself too much. I had to help Poppy with the knowledge of firearms, a produce of a wilder youth than you would associate with me.ö
ôA woman, an oriental, kidnapped the Dursleys.ö
Dumbledore frowned.
ôI'll take care of it, Tonks. Right now, just worry about getting some rest and healing.ö
Chapter 12
Live Bait
Harry and Archer stood in the small courtyard, standing apart. The falling moon partially illuminated the two. A soft breeze rustled their clothes. Harry made a move as if to step toward Archer, but he pulled back abruptly.
ôWhat now, Archer?ö
ôBerserker is dead. That means that we have five more to go. Damn.ö
Harry walked closer to his Servant, within an arm's length.
ôWe've got this; I trust you.ö
ôSaber, Lancer, and even Caster are stronger than me! The only ones that I could beat right now are Assassin and Rider.ö
ôArcher...ö
Harry wanted to say more, but he could not find the words. He wanted to approach, but he could feel the fires smoldering around her.
ôGood night, Archer. I'm going to make something special for breakfast to celebrate our victory.ö
At that moment, he turned away to go inside. Harry gave one last look at Archer before he walked away. Archer could hear his footsteps recede. She growled as she punched the ground, slamming her fist again and again. The concrete cracked.
ô...Doesn't deserve someone so weak,ö muttered Archer. She put a round into the concrete for good measure. A slight wind dispersed the smoke, leaving Archer exhausted and forlorn.
xxx
Meiling tapped the side of the massive Ford van as she drove through the slow-speed streets of the suburbs. The heavy wheels rolled over any obstacles in their way. Rider sat back in mortal clothing as he played with the radio. For all of the faults of the decade-old van, the radio worked well. Rider had set it to a dance music station. It was then that she noticed something new about the van; the speakers did not handle bass well.
ôRider, would you please stop. It feels like the van is going to rattle itself apart.ö
He gave her a smirking glance.
ôWould you at least turn it down?ö
The Servant smiled kindly and turned down the volume. As they began to enter an intersection, having stopped at the sign, a car screamed past. Meiling slammed on the brakes. Then she honked the horn at the rapidly receding car. She could have sworn that she recognized the driver. He wore a neat suit, but his features were obscured. She could feel a mocking laughter from the dust.
ôCaster,ö growled Rider.
ôHe's dangerous. He could probably wipe out everyone but Saber if he really wanted to do so. I hope we could manipulate his grudge into offing Potter. Not sure how, though. If that happens, we are the undisputed masters of ranged combat.ö
ôI'd like to catch him and pour molten silver down his throat.ö
ôCaster, Potter, or Archer?ö
ôIn that case, all of the above.ö
Meiling chuckled.
ôHe seems like a pretty good kid. I wouldn't mind someone like him on my team.ö
ôAlliances typically preclude the plan we are about to enact; this sort of thing usually antagonizes, Master.ö
She snorted.
ôIf things were different. Right now, I'm just interested in crushing him.ö
ôYou say that, but I don't think you mean it. You like his sense of justice. If you want him that badly, I can simply kill Archer. I'd leave breaking him to you.ö
ôThat's not a just way of doing things. The only way that he would follow me would be if he were to join me willingly. With Archer, bitch that she is, I don't see that happening.ö
ôShe is a worthy foe. I might not like her, but she's the only one with whom I feel a kinship.ö
ôSo, Rider,ö asked Meiling, ôAre you having any doubts?ö
ôNo, I'd rather fight against those two than fight with them. More importantly, do you have any doubts?ö
ôA few. As I said, Potter is the sort of person that I would want backing me up. I'll engage him and wreck him, and you'll engage Archer and kill her.ö
ôWhat do you mean by 'wreck?'ö asked Rider, genuinely curious.
ôI don't want to kill him at this point, anyway. Maybe chain him up for a few weeks until the war is over. After that, he'll get a choice. If he wants, he can follow me and grow more powerful than he ever could at Hogwarts. On the other hand, he can return to normalcy. Obviously, I'd like an apprentice; however, I'm not so deep into black-ops that I'm going force someone to do something when it isn't necessary.ö
Rider gave her a half-smiling, half-frowning look before he spoke.
ôMaster, you're really something of a romantic.ö
She shrugged and smiled.
ôYou can't go into a Grail War unless you're some sort of bleeding-heart with an wish that's worth murdering a few people to fulfill.ö
Rider laughed uproariously, slamming his fist against the dashboard.
ôI love that dichotomy. Your heart is both so bloodstained and so pure. I don't think I could settle for another Master.ö
ôThanks, Rider.ö
The drive continued in a pleasant manner. It was a very nice day.
ôMaster, do you remember Normandy?ö
ôI do...ö
xxx
Normandy, France: January 1996
The tender snow fell lightly, each flake beautiful and delicate. Such beauty was sullied as the flakes landed and mixed with the dirt. The beauty was sullied further as ashes fell onto the white that had built up over the dirty slush at the bottom. Meiling Huang looked at the rows upon rows of crosses, occasionally interspersed with a star of David.
ôWhat do you think, Rider?ö she asked the massive figure whom she had given a greatcoat.
ôIt's truly something.ö
ôThis is how wars are fought now. It isn't so much the mighty warrior as it is games of go played out with millions of men as the stones.ö
ôIt's not something that I hate. In fact, I think I would enjoy this sort of battle. Now, the power at the disposal of a great general is far greater than in my day. Now, a general can conduct campaigns with a speed I could have only dreamed of. When I think of the men who first hit the beaches and died in seconds, I smile. The swiftness and random nature of the deaths make the heroism of those who rose above even braver.ö
His Master smiled as she exhaled another breath of smoke into the cold night air.
ôSorry to interrupt, but you're in my way,ö came a saccharine voice.
Meiling took another drag on her cigarette as she turned to face the newcomer. She was a young girl, perhaps seventeen. She wore a dark, double-breasted coat with an elegant fur hat. The Master of Rider raised an eyebrow as she unbuttoned her jacket to flash the Type-80 machine pistol. Slowly, she drew it from its shoulder holster
ôYou can always go around. We aren't blocking the way. In fact, we'll even move out of the way.ö
ôNo, I do believe that you are in our way,ö said another with a deep voice.
A cloaked figure materialized from the shadows. He carried his wand in a mirror of Meiling's stance with the pistol, mocking her.
ôServant Caster, I presume,ö boomed her Servant as he cast aside the modern coat for his elaborate robes and fur-adorned armor. The powerful compound bow appeared in his hands.
ôRider, what a pleasure it is to make your acquaintance.ö
ôThe feelings are not mutual. Do you want to die that badly?ö
ôDie? I've got something to do here before I'm defeated. I won't die on this foreign shore.ö
ôI'm afraid that I forgot to introduce myself,ö said the girl as she drew close to Meiling, extending her hand, ôI'm Elise von Schaefer.ö
ôScion of the von Schaefer? I'll bet you're out on a hunt for the last of the Potters. I'm Meiling Huang, sorry about how nondescript it is.ö
The two shook hands.
ôHow did you know about Potter?ö
ôIt's relatively common knowledge that the von Schaefer family isn't happy about how those who would become the Potters split, taking away a fair amount of wealth and knowledge. I doubt that he knows it, since his family is dead.ö
ôI see. You're an interesting woman. What do you think about the upcoming reunification of Hong Kong with the mainland?ö
Meiling shrugged.
ôI'm just curious whether they're going to get that airport built in time. It was nice to meet you.ö
ôYou know the drill, Caster,ö ordered Elise.
The grey-clad Servant lunged forward, pointing his wand like a fencer points an epee. The ground around Rider exploded, but the horseman jumped over the globe of destruction on top of his horse. He pulled back on his bow and released the arrow in midair. It cleaved through the wind faster than sound. However, Caster had already teleported away with a crack.
ôBastard,ö growled Rider, ôLaying waste to such a memorial.ö
ôThe past is best left in its natural state, dust,ö quipped Caster, hurling another bolt at Rider. The mounted archer shrewdly took a shot which cleaved the bolt in two.
ôAre we not both dust and to dust shall we not return?ö answered Rider.
ôWho said that Heroic Spirit must only be the ashes of some king or warlord?ö
Rider hit ground and slid to the side of his fierce mount, dodging another bolt. However, the mounted warrior had fallen into Caster's trap. At his feet, a red pentagram formed, which spread to cover much of the memorial. Rotten hands in the rags of uniforms clawed from the earth, which hastened to disgorge them. They carried rusted and battered rifles, chipped bayonets, and malevolent points of purple light where their eyes would be.
Caster stood at the front of the ranks of his undead army. The souls torn from their resting places cocked their weapons.
ôThose uniforms shouldn't be intact,ö yelled Meiling.
ôI know,ö he said nonchalantly, ôI merely stuffed their souls into containers that I thought to be appropriate for this ground.ö
Snarling, Meiling took aim and fired a burst of rounds at the Schaefer girl. Caster was already there as he took the shots without harm. In his hand, was a lead rose, which he then handed to his Master. She turned her aim from the enemy Master to empty her magazine into the horde with no effect. Meiling withdrew from a holster inside her pants a gleaming Smith and Wesson Model 36 revolver.
ôI never thought I'd get to bring this out.ö
She took aim at the first undead soldier. As the bullet struck him, he turned to dust. As the bullet struck the one behind the first, he too turned to dust. Rider was already hurling a storm of arrows into the throng.
ôMaster, give the command.ö
She smiled despite the bullets and arrows flying around her and pointed at the Servant and Master.
Elise von Schaefer then said two words, ôFeur Frei.ö
At the command to ôfire freely,ö they opened with a murderous fusillade of bullets. The bullets bore with them the same hatred of their firers. Meiling dropped and focused on her command seals.
ôRider, get us out of here!ö she ordered with a burning palm.
At once, Rider was by her side. He threw her onto the horse and jumped high into the sky, far from the hornet's nest below.
xxx
ôCaster is on my shit list,ö admitted Meiling.
ôFor me, that list is more along the lines of my killing, maiming, and burning than excrement.ö
She gave him a sideways glance.
ôWe're just about there, Rider.ö
ôDoes the plan really require you to say that, Master?ö
ôIt isn't, strictly speaking, necessary; however, I've always wanted to say that.ö
The van drove into a quiet suburb before stopping at one particular house, No.4 Privet Drive. Meiling opened the door and smoothed out the wrinkled from her green officer's uniform. As she walked outside, she put on the peaked garrison cover decorated with red and gold. She took a pair of white gloves stuffed in her belt to put those on.
ôHow official do I look?ö she asked.
ôVery.ö
She adjusted the leather holster for her favorite gun, her old Type 80, as she marched with precise steps to the door. She knocked and waited. The door was answered within a few minutes by a large, middle-aged man.
ôAre you Mr. Vernon Dursley?ö she asked.
ôI am,ö he answered with a measured response, ôWho might you be?ö
ôMy name is Meiling Huang and I represent the People's Liberation Army Special Circumstances unit of the People's Republic of China,ö she replied, crisply handing over a business card.
ôI'm afraid that I can't read this,ö he said.
ôThe English is on the reverse face. My apologies, Mr. Dursley.ö
Cautiously, he looked from the card to her before handing it back.
ôCan you provide any other ID?ö he asked cautiously, glancing at the leather holster.
ôOf course, sir,ö she said, pulling a badge from her left breast pocket.
He examined the badge and said, ôThank you. What do you want? By the way, your English is quite good.ö
ôThank you. I often deal with international events. May I come in? This requires a great deal of explanation.ö
ôYes, you may. Would you mind leaving the, uh, pistol off to the side?ö
She smiled curtly and replied, ôOf course, sir. I suppose that having a secret-police sort of person come knocking at your doorstep with a sidearm is rather disconcerting. I'm not here for that sort of thing.ö
ôPetunia!ö he called, ôWe have a guest, could you make her some tea.ö
ôComing!ö came the reply from the back of the house.
Meiling entered, removing the cover. She looked around for somewhere to place her pistol. Eventually, she decided to hang it on a hat rack along with her cover. Smoothing out her skirt, she sat down onto the pleasantly soft couch. His wife, one Mrs. Petunia Dursley came out to meet her. Mrs. Dursley was thin as a rail, almost emaciated, but she moved with a certain amount of nervous energy.
ôWho might you be?ö she asked with a voice both polite and nervous.
ôI am Lieutenant Meiling Huang of the People's Liberation Army Special Circumstances. In short, I'm here to discuss the role of your adopted son, Harry Potter, in the conflict against the supernatural terrorist Voldemort and his Death Eater organization.ö
ôOh my,ö replied the middle-aged woman.
ôI'd rather not rush that discussion. Time is not an issue, but I don't plan on overstaying my welcome. I do have a hotel, so I'm not rushed to conclude this business today.ö
She smiled pleasantly, as his wife moved away to make a few cups of tea. For his part, Vernon sat down comfortably in an armchair across from Meiling.
ôWhat do you think about the Hong Kong business?ö he asked, trying to prevent any ice from forming.
ôIt's funny that you should mention that. People have been asking me that a lot whenever I mention that I'm a national of mainland China. In fact, a German asked me something similar when I was in Normandy briefly.ö
ôI'm sorry if you get that a lot.ö
ôI'm not offended. I'm happy about the reunification in a vague, nationalistic sense. What really interests me, as I said to the German girl, is the construction of the Hong Kong International Airport to replace the old Kai Tak Airport.ö
Vernon leaned back and nodded.
ôI had to make a trip to Hong Kong in 1989 in a jumbo jet. That was probably the scariest landing I've ever made. The landing gear were floating a few yards from the roofs of residential buildings and power lines.ö
ôI've had that fun experience as well. For me, I was more frightened when the flight had to bank around a mountain on the approach.ö
The two laughed.
ôFunnily enough,ö said Vernon, ôThis is probably the first time that I've talked with someone from mainland China. I probably met a few on that business trip, but nothing like this. You seem like a remarkably decent ladyö
ôThank you very much.ö
ôHere come the tea,ö said Petunia as she entered. She poured a cup for the guest first. Meiling graciously accepted it, but declined milk and sugar. The three sat back down.
ôWould you mind calling your sons since this concerns them?ö
ôHarry is out right now, but I can get Dudley.ö
ôThank you, I understand.ö
ôDudley!ö she yelled, ôWe have a guest that wants to meet you.ö
There was a loud stomping as he came down the stairs. Once he came into sight, Meiling realized that it wasn't stomping; Dudley was just that large. It was hard to avoid any outward disgust or mirth as he ogled her with shoddy subtlety.
ôMeiling Huang, a pleasure to meet you,ö she said in a businesslike fashion, extending her hand. He shook it.
ôNow that we're all here, I believe it's time to get down to business.ö
She examined the family that was about to become her victims.
ôMr. Dursley, does this rag smell like chloroform to you?ö
With that, she snatched a chloroform-soaked rag from her jacket's pocket to shove in his face. He was out in seconds. His wife began to scream. The shock gave her a few seconds to cast a silencing spell. Dudley was moving in to crush her. Even if she had years of training, she was still barely over five feet in height and was barely over one-hundred twenty pounds in weight. Facing her, Dudley was nearly six feet tall and at least two-hundred twenty pounds. However, Meiling conjured to mind a phrase which she had heard in America that seemed particularly fitting: ôGod made all men, but Samuel Colt made them equal.ö
Meiling drew from a holster concealed within her skirt's waistband her snub-nosed Smith and Wesson. At this range, she didn't need to aim. She just needed to point and shoot. He could see her wild grin and knew that he might be in over his head. Meiling fanned the revolver, emptying five rounds of rubber bullets into him in less than three seconds. The pattern was wide, but all the shots connected. One in the shoulder, two in the gut, one in the solar plexus, and one in the ribs. The pain slowed him down enough for a high kick to drop him, breaking his nose with a gruesome snap. It was a mere formality to put Petunia into a blood choke.
ôRider, come here and secure them.ö
The Servant came into the room and began to cuff them as she retrieved her cover, pistol, and other evidence at the scene. By that time, Rider had already bound them with handcuffs.
As she walked out, a cloaked figure revealed herself, pointing a wand at the Chinese Master. Meiling's eyes hardened as she stopped and lifted up her hands.
ôStop right there! Keep you hands where I can see them!ö yelled the cloaked woman.
ôAn undercover auror? If you'll excuse me, I'm going home.ö
ôYou're under arrest?ö
ôDo you want to start an incident with the Chinese Army? That's what will happen if this continues,ö bluffed Meiling, knowing that this wasn't authorized, even if her superiors wouldn't be unduly bothered.
ôStupefy!ö cast the woman, hurling the red bolt at her uniformed opposite.
Meiling brought her hand down into a hammer strike. Instead of striking and disabling her, the spell dissipated as if it had hit a wall. In a smooth motion, Meiling drew her Type 80, checked her sight picture, and put a round into the woman. The crack of the bullet felt far too loud, but the satisfying smack of lead on flesh made up for it. Meiling was even happier that she had decided to load her gun with hollow points this morning. The witch disappeared with a crack.
ôMove it Rider!ö barked Meiling.
ôAlready done,ö said the Servant, materializing behind her, ôThe cargo is loaded.ö
She nodded in assent and hopped in the car as people emerged onto porches. It didn't matter at this point. She had already cast a charm on the car to fudge its identification. Laughing, she drove away from the scene.
ôI have one thing to ask, Mater,ö said Rider, settling into his seat.
ôName it.ö
ôHow did you get past that blood protection surrounding the house? I had to use brute force to claw my way in.ö
ôSimple, though it was a bit of a gamble. Some research led me to conclude that there was a blood ward which prevented those with hostile intent toward Harry Potter from entering.ö
ôSo that talk earlier was to put yourself into a mindset without hostile intent to Potter.ö
ôNo, that was genuine. I feel a little bad about the cold shoulder I gave him. I gambled that the wards would let me past since I didn't intend to kill him or hand him over to be killed.ö
ôYou're softer than I thought, Master.ö
ôYou called me a romantic earlier, didn't you?ö
ôMy respect is undiminished, but I just find this facet of yours to be quite amusing.ö
She playfully slapped his arm.
ôThrough thick and thin, I wouldn't want any other Servant.ö
Rider smiled.
xxx
With a loud crack, Tonks apparated near Hogwarts. Her face was pale. Blood dripped with every step. That woman had attacked her with one of the muggle firearms, and the projectile came too quickly for her to react.
Stumbling, she walked to great doors. With feeble arms, she knocked with the ornamental knocker. She hoped that someone heard. Her head felt lighter and lighter and the last thing she saw before she could see no more was Dumbledore's beard as he opened the door.
Tonks awoke to find herself alive and in the hospital wing of her alma mater. Her stomach hurt a great deal, but she smiled in spite of the pain. She had survived.
ôHow are you feeling?ö
It was Dumbledore's deep voice, gravely serious.
ôI've been hurt pretty badly, but that was probably the worst.ö
ôIt was a very nasty wound. You were shot with a bullet three-tenths of an inch in diameter. It hit you and its hollow point caused it to mushroom to about one-half of an inch while bits and pieces broke away to perforate other parts of your body.ö
ôThat's nasty. Is that the latest that muggles can do?ö
ôNo, the bullet design is probably fifty-years old. It can still make you just as dead.ö
Tonks groaned and propped herself up.
ôDon't strain yourself too much. I had to help Poppy with the knowledge of firearms, a produce of a wilder youth than you would associate with me.ö
ôA woman, an oriental, kidnapped the Dursleys.ö
Dumbledore frowned.
ôI'll take care of it, Tonks. Right now, just worry about getting some rest and healing.ö
Hmmm, didn't even notice this when it first was posted. Shows how often I actually check this site; I should come by more often.
Really good work on this story so far, the new chapter is quite engaging. Really brings out the questions of enmity and rivalry in the HGW.
Let me see if I have all the Servants correct now...
Saber - Arturia
Rider - Ghengis Khan
Lancer - Leonidas
Archer - Nobunaga
Berserker - Rasputin
Assassin - Caine
Caster - ??
Still not sure who Caster is. Grindlewald, maybe? He seems to be someone that the wizards recognize, but he's not over-the-top-crazy like Bluebeard was in Fate/Zero...
Also, you mentioned working on a VN. What's the title, and has it been released yet?
Really good work on this story so far, the new chapter is quite engaging. Really brings out the questions of enmity and rivalry in the HGW.
Let me see if I have all the Servants correct now...
Saber - Arturia
Rider - Ghengis Khan
Lancer - Leonidas
Archer - Nobunaga
Berserker - Rasputin
Assassin - Caine
Caster - ??
Still not sure who Caster is. Grindlewald, maybe? He seems to be someone that the wizards recognize, but he's not over-the-top-crazy like Bluebeard was in Fate/Zero...
Also, you mentioned working on a VN. What's the title, and has it been released yet?