Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise or any part of the Fate/stay franchise, each of which belongs to their own respective owners, J. K. Rowling and Type-Moon
When he was seven, Harry Potter had a wish, a desire born out of a life in darkness. And his wish managed to touch the edge of the heavens, it searched until it rested at the Throne of Heroes. Though he was given the tools, his wish had a condition, a new grail war. Four years later he gets a letter and a few visitors that by all rights he should have never seen again. But he's not just Harry any more, he's Hadrian and master to perhaps one of the bloodiest heroic spirits in existence. However he's still just an eleven year old child, so the question becomes, 'Where does he go from here'?
Rated M: There's going to be lot of dark stuff here, I'm putting this out there right now. Death, Torture, Abandonment, Child abuse, well you get the idea.
Challenge issued by Divine-Faithborn
Challenge: Harry Potter summons a servant for a Grail War! How does this play out?
Here are the rules:
Rule 1: You can choose any heroic Spirit from the Fate universe that you want. While there is a plethora of premade servants (seriously, google "servant fate stay") you can even create your own. Will Harry summon Arturia Pendragon (saber), Jack the Ripper (assassin), or maybe even Achilles (rider)? (Accepted)
Rule 1.5: While Heroic Spirits are just about the strongest beings in existence, don't make their personalities into Mary Sues. They have their own desires and faults and aren't perfect. (Accepted)
Rule 2: You can either write the Grail War itself or skip to Harry's first year at Hogwarts. With good explanation, you can even skip past that to a greater time in the future. If you do skip the war, then A) Harry keeps his servant and B) Harry has won the war and C) Throw some details about the war into your writing. (Accepted, but will happen when he's older)
Rule 3: Harry is seven years old (eleven if you skip the war), please make him believable. He can be smarter or more mature than the original source material, but try to be believable. He had to get that wisdom and maturity from somewhere. Also, Harry is not infallible, he can make mistakes. (Accepted)
Rule 4: If you're thinking about romance, wait until Harry hits puberty. (Accepted)
Beneath the Shadow of High Justice
Chapter one
Called out of the Darkness
"Silver and iron to the origin. Gem and the archduke of contracts to the cornerstone. Though I have nothing to offer I still beseech thee."
The circle was in place, carefully drawn upon a stolen sheet of printer paper in an unprofessional red marker. The command sigils were inscribed onto his hand; black pen having been used to draw three neat little circles on the back of his left palm. His mind was made up and he was speaking the memorized text, although it was a foolish ritual and anyone with a shred of common sense knew that nothing would happen. Still he chanted on.
"The aligned wind becomes a wall. The gates in the four directions close, coming from the crown, the three-forked road that leads to the kingdom circulate."
It would likely get him into trouble with the Dursleys, but for one seven year old Harry Potter, anything was the price he was willing to pay for his wish to be granted. The young boy had seen the ritual used in a book at his school's library and he had inexplicably known that he could complete it. Just like the heroes of that book, Harry knew that he could summon a legend from the throne of heroes to grant his wish. It was his sincere childish hope that legend would not only grant his wish, but save him from his relatives as well.
Even though the librarian had told him the book was merely fiction, Harry knew that it would work. For weeks he had entertained the fantasy of being someone who called down a legend. He entertained the notion of fighting in a Grail war against the other masters. The violent combat that only heroic spirits were capable of inspired him, as did the motivation for fighting in the war itself. He truly and desperately wanted for a chance to have his wish come true.
"Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Repeat every five times. Simply, shatter once filled."
As he continued to chant, magic filled the air. Harry had known that this would happen; after all, he had done his research as best as any seven year old boy could do. He had stolen paper from the school and drawn countless designs while he was locked away underneath the cupboard that was his room at the Dursleys. He had memorized the lines and constantly chanted them in order, changing the verses in order to best suite his own need. When Vernon, that awful oaf of a man, had forbidden him from speaking Harry had continued to memorize the lines of the summoning ritual in his head, for nothing could sway from his dream.
And finally, when he was ready and his summoning circle was finally completed to the best of his ability, he had drawn the command sigils upon his hand. Tonight was the night that his life would change.
"I announce. Yourself is under me, my fate (doom) is in your sword."
He prayed to God for a miracle.
"In accordance with the resort to the Holy Grail, if you abide by this feeling, this reason, then answer."
According to the book, magecraft was all about convincing yourself that the magic could work. You had to impose your will onto reality and force it into existence. You had to truly believe that you could do the things you wished for your magic to do.
And Harry knew, somehow, that he could successfully complete the summoning ritual. After all, if he couldn't complete the ritual then why had the paper summoning circle begun to glow with power? His relatives had called him a freak when they saw the glowing symbols and tried to crush any notion that he had magical powers. But all they did was reinforce his belief that he had magical powers and they were the cause of the glow. No wonder they had been so ruthless in trying to crush his spirit.
"Here is my oath. I am the one who becomes all the good of the world of the dead; I am the one who lays out all the evil of the world of the dead."
In another universe, the words and magic would indeed summon a hero for a Grail War. But this was not that universe. In this universe there was no Holy Grail to summon the heroes of legend. There was no group of magi to fight to the death for a wish. There was no chance for Harry Potter's wish to be fulfilled through magic.
But let it be said that the accidental magic of an innocent child wizard was truly a wonderful and miraculous thing. In the universe of this Harry Potter, the wishes of a child wizard could do anything so long as the conviction was there. Before the magic of childhood wonder was shackled and caged beneath adult reason it could truly do anything, provided the child believed in it. That was true magic, whimsical and wonderful, elusive and pure.
"You, seven heavens clad in three words of power, arrive from the ring of deterrence, oh keeper of the balance!"
With that, Harry's chant was finished and the summoning ritual should have been completed. A hero should have arrived but instead only a shockwave of power rippled through the air. But despite that shockwave nothing else happened, save for the lingering smell of magic that decided to hang in the air. Seconds passed as Harry's resolve began to crumble away.
For most children, the results of accidental magic were surprisingly mundane. Some wished to have a special hair color while others desired to bounce a dozen feet into the air. Not so for the young Harry Potter, whose wish was strong enough that he wanted to touch the heavens. He knew that he had successfully completed the ritual. He was sure of it.
But why hadn't his servant come?
"Boy!? What are you doing in there!?"
No! The voice of Vernon Dursley booked as the giant beast of a man descended down the stairs above Harry's head. So strong were the stomps that dust from the short ceiling shook free and sprinkled the body of the now terrified seven year old. If that man, the man who hated Harry and his magic, learned of what Harry was doing then Harry knew that he would suffer eternally. Already Vernon had attempted to beat the idea of the ritual out of Harry, what would happen this time?
"Please heroic spirit..." prayed Harry as he closed his eyes and concentrated. The padlock outside of his door was jiggling fiercely as his uncle attempted to unlock it - the irony that the one thing meant to keep him isolated was now protecting him was lost as Harry shook in fear. "Please, God, please grant my wish!"
A pulse could be felt across the vast realm of humanity. It echoed through the dimensions endlessly until it found its destination at the seat of the throne of a legend. It had traveled across eternity in an instant as it sought out the legend that was best suited for the origin. The pulse had relentlessly searched all of the realms and all of the dimensions until at last it had found the right person, it rested at the seat of the throne of a legend.
Said legend, clad in the tales of its fame, sat unimpressed upon its throne. It was a legend that was known to many, but it was a legend that sat skeptical and wary of the summoning at its feet. The plea upon its ears was equally unimpressive.
"A boy, of all people, would summon me?" the legend scoffed, fully aware that there would be no reward for its service. Despite the ritual used, there was no Grail War that would give it its own wish so no, it would not answer. The legend would not answer the pathetic prayer that was Harry Potter's magic. Instead the legend shifted in its seat and turned its head away from the pulse of magic.
But the prayer persisted.
"Shoo! Find someone else for I have no reason to help you!" dismissed the legend with a wave of its hand, brushing away at the ephemeral hopes and prayers of a young boy.
"Then perhaps I should give you one?"
The Heroic Spirit, startled, turned its attention back to the wish. In the magic's place was a goddess, the will of humanity. Where a pathetic prayer once existed stood Alaya. The only words that could describe her would be pure beauty beyond description. Her will was the very will of humanity, and the Heroic Spirit's own existence upon its thrown was because of the goddess in front of it.
Alaya was the being that had enshrined all Heroic Spirits in eternal glory, storing them in a glorified treasure vault. For the most part, she ignored the legends; content to simply let them exist outside of time for ever and always. She didn't visit without reason, and that reason was rarely good.
For her will was the survival of humanity and her appearing before the Heroic Spirit meant nothing good.
"What business have you, Alaya, at my throne?" questioned the Heroic Spirit as it entertained a look of puzzlement that belayed pure unadulterated terror. If Alaya wished for the prayer of the boy to be fulfilled then the prayer of the boy would be fulfilled. Just being here was a formality gifted to it by the will of humanity. She could just as easily ensnare the Heroic Spirit's will and enforce her desires by depriving its free will.
"I shall be brief," answered Alaya, "this boy holds the key to humanity in his dimension, but he will die soon without your intervention. Should you protect him and fulfill his wish, I shall grant you a wish of your own. If you do not aid him, I will instead strike your name from the throne of legends and cast you unto oblivion before finding a different Heroic Spirit."
Damn, that was quite a statement. On one hand, the Heroic Spirit could descend upon the human world much like a counter guardian to protect the boy. There was a shot at having its own wish fulfilled if it was successful too. And on the other hand, true eternal death waited if it turned its back to the boy in need.
The Heroic Spirit paused, contemplating Alaya's words. It turned its gaze away from the goddess only once, to muse over the pulse of energy that was Harry's wish. "How do I know that this boy's wish will be grantable?"
Alaya simply smiled, an act that unnerved the Heroic Spirit. "Although this world does not have a Holy Grail War, I shall give you a Holy Grail War. And I know that you will win it, because this boy will one day become one of my greatest tools."
Once again, the Heroic Spirit shuddered. Not only did Alaya know that the Heroic Spirit would accept her offer, but she also knew that the person making the call would one day become a counter guardian. The goddess knew everything, and was simply acting to ensure that the future would come to pass.
"You leave me no choice, Alaya, your will is absolute and your given options are a trap. Still, I will comply with this boy's wish; if only to grant my own wish."
In all seriousness, there was no choice - just the illusion of it. The will of humanity was forcing this Heroic Spirit to descend to the world. Hopefully it wouldn't be all that bad. After all, it too had a wish of its own.
"Please God, hear my prayer!"
A pulse of energy flashed through existence, shaking the young Harry Potter just as the padlock that his uncle was working upon snapped open. In Vernon's rage, the man had foregone the traditional use of a key and instead forcibly pried the lock from its hinges.
And then the door was next.
With all the strength of a giant, Vernon ripped the flimsy cupboard door out of its frame and stared down upon Harry Potter's terrified figure. Sheer abject horror radiated across Harry's body as he moved away from the new opening in his room - trembling as he moved into the corner and tried to make himself as small as possible. But, try as he might, Harry could not escape from Vernon nor could he turn his eyes away from the rage filled man.
There was a feral grin upon his face and a look that promised a world of untold pain onto the boy. "God won't save you boy!" he snarled as he took a step back and casually dropped the door to the floor. He would need both hands to deliver his punishment on the young Harry.
But before he could step forward for the promised punishment, a blinding light seemingly came from nowhere. It was everywhere all at once, painting Harry's vision in a dazzling white that overpowered everything. He could hear Vernon shout in rage and surprise, and then he could only assume that the man had been pushed onto the ground judging by the way he cried out in pain.
And then Harry's vision returned and he saw him.
"I offer you one chance, leave now or I will paint the walls with your blood."
Harry was nearly sure that he was dreaming, it had worked, the ritual had worked! He had magic! He had to! That was the reason he was so different, that was the reason Uncle Vernon hated-
"I will speak but once more, retreat, or meet your end." The figure finished on an ominous note.
Harry gazed in wonder at the figure, the Heroic spirit, his servant. What was he like? Noble and proud like Arturia? Arrogant like Gilgamesh? Did he lust for battle like Berserker and Lancer?
"I'll not have any of that boy's freakishness in MY HOUSE!" Vernon screamed nearly mad with rage and fear. The darker part of his mind was shouting, pleading, to kill the brat and let that be the end of it. The boy was a monster, and it was only for fear of his family that Vernon hadn't yet killed him.
"That was your one chance." The old spirit spoke, his eyes flashed in anger. Child abuse had been something he'd never tolerated, and many had met their end at his blade. Especially people like his master's so-called family, they were nice, normal people. So they should have acted like it, there was no excuse for this. None.
This walrus of a man wasn't even worth his sword. Faster than Harry's young eyes could see, the Hero's fist lashed out and caught his uncle square in the neck. Vernon sputtered, once, twice, then dropped to the floor unconscious. And the figure turned to Harry.
Icy blue, met bright green and the legend asked calmly as though nothing out of the ordinary, "What is your name little one?"
Harry in contrast to the other's calm presence was feeling a bit uneasy. The being before him was nothing like he'd imaged his hero to be. He was tall, far taller than Harry ever imagined that he himself could be. In addition he was wearing a black trench coat, with the man thinness, and pale skin, he could have passed for death itself.
Instinctively Harry knew this man before him was no hero. He wasn't like Arturia, Cu Chulainn, EMIYA, or any of the other heroes he'd read about. But he wasn't quite the traditional anti-hero either, he simply just was himself.
"Harry Potter."
Blue eyes betrayed nothing of what he was seeing in the memories of his master. A blinding headache, because he'd been punched late the night before. The teacher gently shaking his shoulder and telling him to pay attention to roll call, and his own confusion.
"Harry." The corners of his lips tugged downward in a faint frown. "How very dull, and an unsuitable name for my master. For now on I will call you Hadrian."
Harr-Hadrian nodded. It wasn't like he was all that attached to his name. "Then, what should I call you?"
"You may call me Assassin."
Hadrian age 7
"Just how many times do I need to say this? Hadrian keep your thumb out of your fist, else it will break."
Hadrian merely nodded and dodged Assassin's next strike and retreated across the small glade. Yes, his servant might have lower stats, and he was especially unsuited to be an assassin or a even saber for that matter. But let it also be said that he was no pushover, it was exactly because he was weak that he could be strong.
He unlike the other Heroic spirits couldn't survive on pure skill, power, or technique, so instead he compensated. Assassin made sure every last strike counted, because that might be the last one he had. Honestly Hadrian felt honored to have Assassin with him. He was exceedingly smart, he specialized in more than one area, and found his own ways to fight at an even level.
You see the Legend that Hadrian had summoned was very far from the strongest, he could be placed in the middle at best. Certainly under special circumstances Assassin could become exceedingly powerful, but that was never a guarantee. Even then he lacked the warrior's upbringing that many spirits had, or the wealth of combat experience that others gained during their lifetime.
Though not a fighter, Assassin was a very bloody legend. During and well before the French Revolution he'd killed nearly 3,000 people. How could he be so sure of the number? Well it was rather simple, Hadrian's Assassin was Charles-Henri Sanson, the High Executioner of France. And he'd treated every single execution as little more than a mundane desk job.
But he did know the basics of combat, thus why Hadrian was currently having the beating/training session for the day.
"Watch how I move. Every single person has their own weakness, no matter how skilled they are. Those who are skilled can merely hide and defend it better."
"You can observe me anytime~" Lucia sang as she performed the famed flying tackle on Hadrian though not quite managing to bring him to the ground.
"Lucia, I've told you numerus times not to interrupt our training sessions." Assassin's calm voice didn't betray his frustration at having his master knocked down by her.
"But Charlie, I was getting so bored. You're always taking Adi's afternoon's up. If you're not fighting then it's biology or whatever else you do in that garden of yours."
A slight frown came onto her face as she mumbled, "That old vampire bum even cuts into our precious time together." Somewhere out in the multiverse said 'old vampire bum' felt as though he should be strangling someone.
She pulled her head to rest on Hadrian's own. "Just let me borrow him for a bit okay? Come on please? Please? Pretty please with cherries on top!"
"No."
"Thanks Miss Lucia, but I do really need to improve."
The brunette naiad huffed and bit her lip. "Fine then, I guess I'll go start on dinner." She turned and daintily flounced away, white blue dress swirling about her feet.
Assassin's eyes widened in mute horror. The last time that she had cooked they'd all come down with food poisoning.
"I believe Lucia, that we had barred you from the kitchen."
Hadrian nodded. "I'll get started later Miss Lucia. You don't need to do anything!"
When they had first come to live at Water's edge cottage, Assassin had been very against Hadrian doing any cooking. He had relaxed this decree when it became apparent he would be unable to make anything. But that was nothing, nothing compared to the native Naiad.
Within their first three days alone, she started 36 fires, had gone through all of their emergency supplies. Supplies that own their own would have lasted a good month. Simple hot chocolate from powder packs had come out a mint green color. The first batch of scrambled eggs she'd made were badly burnt interlaced with small flecks of silver. Both Assassin and Hadrian strongly suspected that she's burned more pans than just that one time and had merely hidden all the others.
They'd certainly paid for more.
Assassin reached over and grabbed Hadrian by the scruff of his neck. As usual he couldn't help but notice the child was much too light, even after his few months of freedom. With almost no effort on his part Assassin hauled Hadrian clear off the ground and hurled him towards the unsuspecting woman.
They collided with a massive 'thud' and fell to the ground. The former executioner was somewhat pleased when Hadrian returned to his feet almost immediately.
Hadrian quickly flashed a pout at his servant for the rough treatment then ran off to get into the kitchen before Lucia could recover.
"Why did you have through him at me?" Sure enough Lucia had recovered and launched herself at Assassin.
"Listen, I enjoy having men thrown at me as much as the next girl. And Adi's super cute, but at least give me a warning next time okay?"
"There are so many things wrong with that statement I not even where to begin." Assassin settled for largely ignoring her and headed for the cottage. He'd drill Hadrian on biology while he cooked.
"Ahhhhh is someone jealous~? Don't worry Mr. Grumpy you'll always be my number 2 right after Adi." She had hearts in her eyes as she began to squeal. "He's the most adorable thing to ever walk the earth! I mean have you seen those pinchable cheeks of his? Or the way his eyes flash and he pouts when he's trying to be mad at me?!"
"Lucia."
"His just so adorable when he-"
Lucia paused as her eyes caught sight of the few child-sized graves by the edge of the water. She bit her lip and tears welled up.
Assassin turned away giving the woman her privacy, it had only been a short few weeks. But it would get better for her, of that he was certain.
"Hey, Assassin do you think they'll ever forgive me?"
"I was not aware that you did something that required forgiveness, Lucia." He sighed and in a rare show of compassion placed his arm of her shoulder. "It was not your fault none of it, and I'm sure that they understand it was well. You didn't do anything."
"That's exactly it, I . .I could have done something. I should have done something!" It was getting harder for the naiad to speak. "Anything, anything would have been better than just staying here! It's all my fault."
Assassin sighed, he hated dealing with this kind of thing. "You did not kill them, you did not put them in peril, and you did not leave them in the darkness. If you do have any blame in the matter then it is very slight."
Even now they, meaning Hadrian and Lucia shuddered every time they passed the door to the cellar. It haunted their dreams at night and followed behind them in the daylight. Assassin had locked it as a precaution, even then it proved unnecessary as he was the only person willing to descend into the darkness.
"But, there is nothing that can be done now. Accept it and move on, there is nothing more for you to do."
"That's an easy thing for you to say, even Adi still has nightmares."
Assassin had never thought those scant few months ago when they'd left Hadrian's home that they would enter a situation like this.
A sorrowful naiad unable to do anything more than watch even as her entire world fell apart around her. It was a sad, mournful tale that began in the deepest part of winter not too long after the gears of fate began to turn.
Okay, so this was just something that wouldn't leave me alone. I'll say this now, I'm not very familiar with Fate/Stay night. So please excuse any and all mistakes I'm going to make about magecraft. If you're knowledgeable in particular about elements, origins and what range of abilities they give, please contact me. I've sort of got something planned, but I'm not sure that it would be possible, so I'd like a second opinion Don't worry even if this story probably won't interfere with the wizard and the world too much. This is more something just to work on while I'm out of the house and don't have my HP books for reference. By the way the picture is Hadrian's command seal. Yeah, Harry is kind of a pathetic name, fanfiction has made me prefer Hadrian. Oh and Lucia story will be explained next time, it's going to take a bit before we get to Hogwarts. Until next time,
Assassin
Real Name: Charles-Henri Sanson
Title: High Executioner of France
Alignment: Lawful Evil
Stats-
Strength: D
Endurance: D
Agility: C
Magic: D
Luck: A
Class Skills:
Presence Concealment D: Suitable for spying.
Personal Skills:
Executioner A++: Rank up for all stats when facing a character of an Evil alignment.
Medical Technique A: The knowledge of medical techniques, used to repair injuries, but not heal them immediately. Assassin's hobbies included growing medicinal herbs in his garden and dissecting human bodies.
Anatomy Study B: The knowledge of the human anatomy.
Noble Phantasm: Rank B, Anti-Unit
La Mort Espoir: Death is Hope for Tomorrow
Assassin's execution claymore, Epee de Justice, by itself, is little more than a normal sword, only making any real damage to the back of a Servant's neck. However, if planted in the ground, it summons a massive guillotine and several small stone cherubs. The cherubs will fly to the targeted enemy and drag them into the guillotine, where they will be decapitated. If needed, certain parts of the guillotine, like the blade and the stocks, can be summoned individually.
When all the servants turn up, and they will in a few years time( Real life and fanfic), I'll post all the data for each servant under a separate story to save time.