Matou Shinji and the Broken Chains

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: It is a time of seeming peace, as the British Ministry prepares to host the Quidditch World Cup - the greatest sporting event in the Wizarding World. But unbeknownst to them, a grand army of Giants and Werewolves is gathering in Eastern Europe, under the leadership of the vicious Fenrir Greyback, their sole objective - revenge. In the East, Matou Shinji and his comrades have arrived at the hidden bastion of Mahoutokoro to hone their skills, given that they are likely to become Champions of the two Tournaments this year – the Tri-Wizard and the Potions. And if their struggle against the Acromantulae has shown them anything, it is that only through power can they gain victory - and only through victory can their chains be broken.

Chapter 36. Actress Again

Matou Shinji's expression was an utterly blank mask as he reminded himself yet again that no matter how satisfying he might find it, storming out of the Great Hall to protest the…the utter travesty of a play he was watching would be seen as rather offensive. This was especially so when Cornerstones, the production in question, had apparently been inspired by the official accounts of the Stone Cutters' first adventures, and had been commissioned by the British Ministry of Magic as a tribute to their exploits and heroism.

As such, Lucius Malfoy, the British Minister of Magic himself, had personally invited each of the Stone Cutters – as well as Daphne Greengrass, daughter of the head of the Department of War and the known partner of the Boy-Who-Lived – to attend the premiere of the play, offering those who did not already have travel privileges dispensation to use Vanishing Cabinet connection between Durmstrang and Hogwarts for the evening. To his utter lack of surprise, the others had quickly accepted.

Fred, Shinji was sure, had accepted mostly for a chance to be back in Britain – and Hogwarts, where the Weasley twin felt safe – as opposed to a foreign land where his status as a Stone Cutter meant nothing, where the Dark Arts were practiced openly, where discipline was strict and ubiquitous, and where he could see judgement in the eyes of his Hogwarts peers as they wondered if he was somehow lacking compared to his brother, who had been chosen as Tri-Wizard Champion over him.

…and if, like his brother, he too had been corrupted by his sojourn to Japan.

George was somewhat harder to read, given the changes the other boy had been going through, though Shinji suspected that his reasons for attending extended beyond wanting a pleasant diversion from preparing for the first task. Perhaps he had decided to come to honor Hillard's sacrifice, to spend time with the rest of his family, or to – as George had said before – enjoy the fare served by the house-elves of Hogwarts, which Shinji would readily admit was generally superior to what the students of Durmstrang produced on a regular basis – save for on special occasions, when those assigned to mess duty went all out.

Why Harry had agreed was obvious, as the Boy-Who-Lived had confided that he would be giving the closing soliloquy of the play, so it wasn't as if he could decide to notshow up. Even if that hadn't been the case, however, Harry was both the nominal leader of the Stone Cutters and the British Youth Representative to the Wizengamot, with his girlfriend being the daughter of the head of the Department of War, so for him to turn down an invitation from the Minister for an event in his honor would have presented an impression of disunity that Britain could not afford at this point in time.

Daphne had agreed as well, though Shinji thought she was probably motivated less by duty and more from a desire to enjoy a pleasant evening with her significant other. Harry had been spending much of his time in Britain as of late, after all, meaning that it was likely that he and Daphne hadn't seen too much of each other, and with Harry to tour Britain with the cast of Cornerstones, it would no doubt be some time before they next saw each other.

Of course, Shinji imagined that Miss Greengrass' notion of a pleasant evening might be one where conditions weren't quite freezing out, and he allowed that the isle of Svalbard, being above the Arctic circle, might be a wee bit less temperate than the Scottish highlands where Hogwarts could be found, but he didn't think creature comforts were the main reason she'd agreed to come.

'Even if it was, I couldn't really fault her, since I spend most of my time in Mahoutokoro. Autumn is the best time to be around both the City Beneath the Earth and Kyoto above it anyway, with all the leaves changing color.'

Most people who visited the City of Shrines did so around March or April, when the groves upon groves of plum and cherry trees began to blossom, hoping to catch the sakura blossoms at their peak, but the fall foliage was almost as beautiful, with splashes of crimson-red, fiery orange, and golden-yellows from the many stands of maples, cherries, and ginkgos serving as a lovely contrast with the greens of moss and evergreen trees, the blue hues of the sky, the greys and blacks of hewn stone walls, and the white and brown latticeworks of traditional buildings.

'I should take Luna around Kyoto soon, if I get permission from Matsuo-san. I think she'd enjoy seeing Japan again, especially during the fall – and that Pandora wouldn't mind either.'

For that matter, he rather thought Zelkova would appreciate such an outing, as his kodama familiar had enjoyed the outing to Savernake Forest – and the chance to commune with ancient trees – earlier in the year. And while his familiar had been cooperative since the kodama's recovery, he knew the tree spirit didn't exactly enjoy Durmstrang, given the sheer cold (more of a psychological factor for the spirit than an actual threat, much like fire), the lack of any significant plant life, and the lack of sun during the endless winter night.

'I really need to do something nice for him soon. Without his aid, that battle against the troll would have been much more difficult…'

The main issue was finding some time for such an outing, given that most of his time in Japan was dedicated to training for the fast approaching Wizarding Schools Potions Championship. There were less than two months left before the New Year, shortly after which the Potions Champions of the Eleven Schools would be summoned to the Isle of Thule, and despite all the effort he'd put into training, he knew it probably wouldn't be enough – not if the other Champions were as powerful and skilled as he knew Sajyou-san to be.

(He was reasonably sure that Elesa Labelle, the American Champion, was around Sajyou-san's level from what he'd seen of her skills, and while he hadn't had the chance to study either the Durmstrang or Beauxbatons Potions Champions' abilities in any detail, he was certain they would be quite formidable, given what he knew about how them – and how they had claimed their positions.)

His one potential advantage over his older and more skilled competitors was the Book of Potions, given that the spirit of Zygmunt Budge, the genius potioneer who had invented Felix Felicis, resided within it, with the spirit's greatest ambition being to guide a potioneer to victory in the Potions Championship as a way of proving his own genius.

'Though since Sajyou-san knows about the book and has built up a working relationship with Budge, the tome may not be as much of an advantage as I thought…'

Not for the first time, Matou Shinji found himself relieved that Sokaris hadn't asked him to win the Potions Championship, just to do his best and see what he could learn. If she had, the boy would have thrown himself into Potions training, spending every waking moment trying to improve his brewing skills and odds of success in the competition, without involving himself with Fleur's situation, intervening to help Tohsaka, or seeking to learn from Lockhart.

The boy rather suspected that the Director of Atlas knew this, given that she was familiar with him and knew that he would give anything not to disappoint her, even if it meant giving up everything else in the process, and out of kindness and practicality, had asked him for something more manageable so he would have time to build up his skills in other areas. Indeed, Shinji rather thought that Sion Eltnam Atlasia was probably the Director who cared most about people – likely because her mission was to work for the salvation of the world – and every day, he counted himself as lucky to be associated with her.

'Speaking of which, I should mention Rachelle Lestrange to her in my next report…though I don't know how Sokaris will feel about the fact that the Potions Champion of Beauxbations reveres the man who became TATARI.'

The boy shook his head slightly as cleared his head, focusing his attention on the drama unfolding before his eyes. It was odd how his thoughts were more jumbled and flighty than usual, as if his mind was desperately trying to be anywhere but here – but then, maybe it wasn't so odd, since he wasn't especially enjoying the play – which had turned out to be a propaganda piece that bore only vague similarities to the truth.

Then again, that was true even of the official account, with Matou Shinji alone knowing the full truth of what had transpired that year – especially when it came to Sialim Sokaris and everything she'd been involved in away from the eyes of others, whether it was making use of the Room of Requirement, eating in the kitchens and using the house elves and ghosts as an intelligence network, or absconding with the Philosopher's Stone. And since he was forbidden by geas from revealing exactly what had transpired that year by the Director of Atlas, he'd had…reservations about how any play based on the Stone Cutters' first adventures would turn out.

Still, he'd initially agreed to attend the production out of respect for the memory of the late Robert Hillard, as the former Ravenclaw had taught him a great deal about Magical Britain, dueling, and the art of war. Besides Harry, and to an extent, Sokaris, Hillard had been one of Shinji's first friends at Hogwarts, and a mentor besides, who had supported him in his feud with the Weasley Twins…and who had offered to hold off the troll, even knowing it might be his doom.

'From what I hear, he did the same thing at the Quidditch World Cup. Standing in the defense of others who could not defend themselves, risking his life to save others. Only that time…'

…that time, there had been no one to save Hillard, and now his comrade, his brother-in-arms was dead.

Shinji looked down as he felt pain, noting that without realizing it, he'd balled his hands into fists in his lap, clenching them so tightly that his nails broke skin.

Would it have helped if he'd been there himself, the boy wondered? If all the Stone Cutters had been at the Quidditch World Cup, and not…elsewhere? Or would they simply have been casualties in a conflict beyond their ability to affect?

Matou Shinji found that he didn't know, and that sense of uncertainty didn't sit well with him at all. He'd experienced a bit of it three years ago, after Sokaris was thought to have died in the fight against Quirrell, but knowing as he did that she had lived had spared him the hours of reflection and self-recrimination the others had endured.

Despite being told that Hillard had passed, Matou Shinji had been too busy in the last few months to really process the news of his friend's death. The isolation and demands that came with being Champion had helped, as had the fact that until tonight, the Stone Cutters had not convened as a whole, so some part of the boy could pretend his friend wasn't dead, just…somewhere out of sight.

'But he wouldn't miss a night like tonight,' Shinji reminded himself, as he closed his eyes, bowing his head as all the emotions he had put aside struck with a vengeance.

Guilt. Grief. Anger. Loss.

All these things and more welled up inside of him as he listened to the twisted version of the past that was being presented this evening, and knew without a shadow of a doubt that the Britain that existed now – a Britain ruled by fear – was a far cry from the Britain Hillard had loved.

And that because of that, there was no place in it for him – or at least there wouldn't be, after the Potions Championship was over.

'I'm kept around for now because they think I'm their best hope. But what happens if I lose?'

…or of course, what would happen if he somehow won?

'I don't know.'

He could go back to Japan of course, where there was a spot at Mahoutokoro, but would that have him ready for the coming War? Perhaps he could simply go to Atlas and receive the training he needed to become an Alchemist there, as no doubt thought acceleration and memory partition would be helpful in what was to come? Or…

'Are you alright?' A voice asked of him, in words that hadn't been spoken, but thought from mind to mind – but not Zelkova's voice, as a hand settled onto his with a sense of warmth.

Swallowing, the boy opened his eyes and glanced to his right, his lips curving upwards ever so faintly as he saw Luna Lovegood seated there, dressed in a very familiar white dress with vine-like traceries of silver and pale blue, with leaves woven into her fine blonde hair, and a white fox seated on her lap.

As the sole Stone Cutter still based at Hogwarts, she had little excuse not to attend, and so, to make the most of it, she had decided to bring along Pandora, who rather enjoyed human foibles and entertainment – while of course, fusing with Zelkova as she so often did for formal events.

'You can speak into my mind?' Shinji wondered, focusing his thoughts clearly, in the way he'd become accustomed to 'speaking' with his familiar. 'How?'

'I seem to have inherited Zelkova's link with you,' Luna commented, as her fingers caressed the back of his clenched hands, pulsing small amounts of yang energy into him and sealing his sounds. 'You feel very troubled tonight.'

'Was I that obvious…?'

'I would have noticed that even without the link,' the blonde noted. 'Everyone else seems to be watching the play. What's wrong?'

'…it's…a lot of things,' Shinji related after a long pause. 'This play is bringing back…a lot of memories. Not all of them good ones.'

'Because of how they've portrayed you?'

Shinji only shook his head.

'Because of how they haven't,' he replied. 'Because in what I've seen so far, everything I did – everything I was involved in was…erased. The role I played has been written out entirely. The friendship I had with Harry isn't even mentioned, and neither is my Art. I've had one appearance in the first Act so far, as a failure of a practitioner that Sokaris…pitied, more a plot device than a character...'

'Maybe it will get better?' Luna suggested, radiating a sense of calm and reassurance.

'…maybe,' Shinji allowed reluctantly.

Only this time, his first instinct was correct – for even as the play continued, reaching the climax of the first Act, featuring the fight against the troll, it didn't.

For Fred Weasley, a chance to come back to Britain had been the most welcome piece of news he'd hard in a month, given that in his homeland, he was known and respected instead of being looked upon as a potential troublemaker. In Britain, he was a Stone Cutter, one of the land's young heroes whose exploits were a subject of envy and admiration, with privileges to match, while in Durmstrang, he was an unknown subject to the school's harsh rules and regulations, in a place where the authorities had no sense of humor or justice whatsoever.

'But then, I should have expected that of a den of Dark Wizards in training,' the redhaired youth thought to himself, recalling how he'd been sentenced to menial labor – with absurd tasks that had included doing laundry for the entire castle (without the aid of magic), cleaning the halls (without using magic), or cooking for the school – all because he had sought to become Hogwarts' Tri-Wizard Champion and had not been selected through no fault of his own. 'I don't understand why Headmaster Flitwick lets them oppress us like this, why he lets those savages force good wizards into doing the work of house-elves…'

Especially when murderers like Delacour, Krum, and Lestrange were exempted from the servitude Durmstrang forced others into, simply because they held the title of Champion.

Lestrange he'd only heard about, though apparently the Lovegood lookalike that Matou spent far too much time around was a ruthless killer who had slaughtered her rivals – including even a Minister's son – until she was only one left who qualified as a Potions Champion.

Delacour and Krum though…he knew some of the people they had killed. Had even had…relations with one, a certain Tamsin Applebee from the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team who, like him, had joined the Banner of Wolves – and who he had been looking forward to spending more time with. And now she was dead, with her murderers not only going unpunished, but rewarded.

'An ambush? Applebee wouldn't have done such a thing. She's not a Dark Wizard – not like them.'

Not like Krum and his Veela slag (if she was even his Veela slag, since it was rumored that Delacour's appetite was insatiable, with how often she'd been seen around the other Banners), who had decided for some reason to go on a rampage, employing the Dark Arts to kill and maim their fellow students, before finally being stopped.

If they had been stopped, that was, and their absence the following morning hadn't been some kind of cover-up by Karkaroff, who was after all, a former Death Eater. A coverup that his brother had seemed to fall for all too easily, after being chosen as a Champion, as had Matou, who for a playboy was surprisingly susceptible to the charms of a Veela.

But then, among inhuman creatures, Veela were some of the most dangerous. They might not be the most powerful combatants on the battlefield, but their allure could cause the weak-minded to turn against their fellows, or if focused, could subvert even the will of more powerful strong wizards.

So Professor Damian Savage, the wiry, perpetually angry Auror assigned as Hogwarts' Defense Professor for the year, had instructed his older charges, with what Fred had taken of his course covering the basics of how to fight giants, werewolves, Veela, and of course, Dark Wizards – the more dangerous elements among Britain's enemies.

Savage had spoken of the necessity to play to one's strengths in dealing with these creatures, that when engaging them, one should strike swiftly and with overwhelming force – and from stealth if at all possible – leaving them no opportunity to defend themselves or retaliate. Some had said that this hardly seemed fair, but the Defense Professor had countered by asking if it was fair that giants were highly resistant to magic, that they could wade through a dozen wizards' spells unscathed and destroy them all; asking if it was fair that werewolves were stronger and faster than wizards, on top of being able to use magic when untransformed; asking if it was fair that a Veela or Dark Wizard would simply dominate their minds if they didn't act first?

After all, Savage had said, those who believed the notions of honor or fair play applied in times of war were fools; in the end, there was only victory or death, as those at the Quidditch World Cup had learned only all too well.

To that end, the Professor had insisted that his older students learn two things before they headed off to Durmstrang: the first being silent casting – so they could better defend themselves, and the second being how to recognize and resist the effects of mind control by repeatedly subjecting them to the Confundus Charm and the Imperius Curse (the latter of which the Ministry had given him special permission to use for teaching purposes).

As a Stone Cutter, Fred had already learned silent casting, but being placed under the Imperius had been a new – and very odd – experience. Given that it was one of the Darkest spells known to Wizardkind, Fred had steeled himself, expecting the Curse to viciously tear into his mind as he fought its domination, crushing his will as he sought to resist but instead…

…it had been the most wonderful feeling in the world, like the caress of a warm summer breeze wiping away every thought and worry in his head, every burden in his weary soul, leaving nothing behind except a sense of contentment, a sense that everything would be all right – not unlike what he'd felt the night he'd finally become one with Hokuto.

Why in Merlin's name, would he want to fight such a thing, when it had finally given him peace?

In that state, he'd even managed to cast a Patronus for the first time: a raccoon dog (tanuki), like the familiar he'd so briefly had before she had run away.

And then the Curse had been lifted, with the immense weight of the mass of worries, fears, guilt and sense of horror that came crashing down on him sending him to his knees, and the Patronus he'd conjured up vanishing without a trace.

"There is a reason why the Imperius is one of the most feared spells a Dark Wizard may use," Professor Savage had said almost reverently afterwards. "And it isn't that you can't fight it – because you can, if your will is strong enough, compared to that of the caster. It's that when cast properly, you won't want to. Isn't that right, Mister Weasley?"

Fred had only nodded from where he knelt, shivering on the floor, his mind and body craving the peace of the Imperius, or at least the touch of another human being to help him forget for a time. Tamsin, who knew what it was like to grieve, as she'd lost her brother during the events of the World Cup, had joined him that night and brought him a few hours' comfort…

'…and now she's gone too, and Matou doesn't give a damn. Instead he chases the skirt of that Veela, despite already having Lovegood…'

Not that he was entirely surprised at this turn of events, given that Matou had always been cold to most others, except towards girls he was interested in – and then, he hadn't kept to the standards of decency. After all, it was rumored that the reason Granger left Hogwarts was because she'd caught Matou cheating on her with Lovegood. Or perhaps he'd been caught with the pretty Japanese girl living in the house he'd bought for her, likely because he intended her to be his mistress.

…did Lovegood not care about Matou's philandering ways, he wondered, as he glanced over and saw the petite blonde comforting her rather miffed-looking partner? Or was it simply that she didn't know, because Matou kept secrets from her, lied to her as he had lied to him?

Fred didn't know, but he also knew that Matou's love affairs weren't his business. That Matou had lied to him, all but promising him and George nature spirit familiars so they too could have access to the art of fusion, in exchange for their help with potions, yet failing to deliver on his promise – that was his business.

In the end, after everything he'd suffered during the horrifying expedition to Aokigahara, all he'd gotten was a raccoon dog which hadn't seemed very magical at all, and had soon wandered away after he'd returned to Hogwarts, with his brother George getting nothing at all.

Matou had lied, and Fred would see to it that the boy he'd once called a comrade would one day reap what he had sown.

As such, Fred found himself rather enjoying Cornerstones, both because it was nice to learn more about who Sialim Sokaris had been and what she had meant to Harry before that final battle where she had died fighting alongside them, and because it honored her memory and Hillard's, while minimizing the role of untrustworthy foreigners like Matou – and of foreign magic like Matou's ofuda.

(The last wasn't out of malice, however, as much as the Wizarding Academy of Dramatic Arts not being able to create ofuda or simulate them very well. Instead, they'd replaced Matou's foreign art with exceptional talent in potions, creating a clear tie between the Matou Shinji of the past and the Potions Champion of the present.)

True, he and George didn't exactly have large roles in the first Act, as the two Gryffindors had been cast as pranksters antagonistic to the Boy-Who-Lived, before the encounter with the troll, but that had been true enough to life that Fred didn't really mind.

What had interested him was what he hadn't known about that first year.

He hadn't known that the Boy-Who-Lived had come to Hogwarts with the ambition of becoming a hero powerful enough to save everyone, and had needed little prompting to join Slytherin. He hadn't known that Sialim Sokaris had been Harry's confidante and closest friend – from what Matou had said, she had been his closest friend – though the Matou Shinji in the play – a prideful, unsociable boy from the East who Sokaris had taken pity upon after witnessing his many failures in Transfiguration – would say that.

He hadn't known that it was Sokaris who had convinced the house elves that the Weasley Twins wanted to be served a wriggling mass of worms, as she had recognized that they had been the perpetrators of a certain prank against Matou which had involved robes enchanted to burn whenever the Japanese boy sat down – or that she had joined with Harry in launching the Great Prank War against them.

'I always thought it was Hillard and Matou who were behind it, but I might have been wrong,' Fred reflected, remembering that Harry had a hand in writing the script.

Still, the Prank War played out much as Fred remembered it, with all manner of pranks, incidents, and rabblerousing in which only the House of Hufflepuff had been spared, until Halloween came around at last, with a somewhat changed battle against the troll.

For one, the involvement of the castle poltergeist had not been mentioned in the play, which was just as well, since watching Peeves teabag the head of the troll's headless corpse had been rather obscene. For another, with potions instead of ofuda, the conflict played out rather differently, especially since the third major difference was that in the play, Sokaris had been involved, when she had not in reality.

'Just as well,' Fred reasoned. 'As I remember, she was following Quirrell that night, after seeing him release the troll into the castle – something which was just as important as fighting beside us, since without her, we wouldn't have discovered the identity of our true enemy. With Quirrell as our ally in the official version of things, it makes sense that she would be helping us fight the troll instead.'

Well, more than help, really.

In the play's version of the Troll Incident, the two warring prankster factions had come across Ravenclaw Prefect Robert Hillard as he valiantly fought against the troll. With perfect form, and a look of pure determination, the prefect launched spell after spell at the massive, evil-shaped creature, only for his attacks to splinter upon its magic-resistant hide. Still, as ineffectual as his attacks were, that was enough to distract the enemy from a disillusioned Matou Shinji, who frenetically lobbed vials of explosive, sticking, and other potions at the beast in an attempt to confuse it and stop it in its tracks, though it wasn't enough.

With situation seeming rather dire, the pranksters had put aside their feud and lent their wands to the cause.

Fred had to admit that the ensuing fight was nothing short of spectacular, with the special effects wizards had done a great job capturing the sheer chaos and threat of that night, as there were all manner of spells flying about the stage, miniature dragons transfigured from rubble venting their fury on the troll's eyes, potion vials erupting into blasts of sound and fury and even what seemed like a life-size troll staggering about and roaring in a very life-like manner.

In the end, however, even the magic of a fifth-year student, two third-years, and three first-years hadn't enough to penetrate the troll's hide, with the creature brushing aside their attempts to stop it with almost contemptuous ease and stomping towards them with murder in its eyes.

It advanced, and the students fell back.

It advanced, and the students fell back.

It advanced yet further – and there was no more room to fall back, with the young heroes having their backs against a wall.

"We're doomed," the actor playing Matou Shinji said, resignation and fear writ across his features. "At least, some of us. Sokaris…you and Potter should escape. Get help."

"No. I have a better idea," the actress playing Sialim Sokaris retorted, a mask of perfect calm on her exotic features as she turned to the Boy-Who-Lived and withdrew several vials containing an acid-green mix. "Harry, do you trust me?"

"Exploding potions?" Matou asked skeptically. "I've already tried that, Sokaris. It doesn't—"

But Sokaris just held up her hand, silencing the boy.

"Harry?"

"With my life," the Boy-Who-Lived replied, with the purple-haired girl pressing the vials into his hands.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" she cried out, raising him high into the air, with Hillard using a banishing charm to launch Harry towards the oncoming troll like a human missile.

"Glacius!" Harry cried out, his wand-arm outstretched as he aimed for the troll's eyes.

The icy wind struck home, with the troll staggering backward, opening its mouth wide in a roar of pain and utter rage…giving Boy-Who-Lived the perfect opportunity to hurl the potions Sokaris had handed him straight down the monster's gullet.

Recovering from the momentary disorientation, the troll reached out to seize enemy flying past him, but just as its stony fingers were about to make contact, it seized up, its body convulsing as the monster lurched back and forth, explosion after explosion tearing it apart from within, until with a last shudder, the creature's lifeless, twitching form crashed to the ground.

Harry too, hit the floor hard, as the others rushed towards him to see if he was okay.

"I'm fine," he said as he got to his feet, none the worse for wear save for his hair being somewhat mussed and glasses quite askew. "And I don't know about you, but I'm bloody grateful to have had all of you here with me tonight, since without your help, I'd be troll food."

"Or least I would be," Hillard interjected. "You didn't have to help you know, Boy-Who-Lived or no."

"I won't leave someone to die if by acting, I might be able to help," Harry replied, fixing his glasses. "That's not what heroes do, after all."

"Heroes, huh?" the play's version of Fred asked skeptically.

"We don't feel much like heroes, brother of mine," play-George commented.

"More like we narrowly avoided getting turned into mince pie," play-Fred noted.

"That may be true," play-Harry responded, shaking his head. "Yet even so, together, we beat something none of us could have alone, defeated a foe too great for any one of us. We fought – fought hard – yet none of us ran. All of us face what might have been the end – and together, overcame it. Divided, each of us are weak, only as strong as the spells we can muster. Divided, we have every reason to be afraid, because there will always be someone stronger than any one of us, always be something we can't hope stop alone. But together…look at what we've accomplished. A troll lies dead at our feet, none of us much the worse for wear. So what say you, friends? Shall we stay divided, easy targets for the next great threat to come our way? Or do we put aside our feud and come together as brothers – as comrades-in-arms? As…" He looked at the troll for a moment, and then back to his comrades as inspiration struck him. "…Stone Cutters?"

"Well, I for one, am with you, Harry, whatever we decide to call ourselves," Hillard answered, his features marred by what looked like a quickly growing bruise from where he hadn't dodged some smaller pieces of rubble fast enough. "After all, it's dangerous to go alone."

Sokaris nodded, as she held out a jar of healing salve to the older boy. "Take this."

And with that, the curtain fell, marking the end of Act One, and the start of a half-hour intermission.

'All in all, I'm enjoying myself,' Fred thought to himself, as he – along with much of the rest of the crowd – rose to stretch their legs a bit. 'I was afraid they'd make a mockery of what we went through, but I guess I shouldn't have worried. They've done it great justice.'

Despite how bad it would have been for his reputation and his standing with the government of wizarding Britain, Matou Shinji almost ended up leaving at the end of Act I, given the emotional turmoil he was going through and the many, many slights to him and his character.

Certainly, on one level, he appreciated the fact that the playwright had chosen to glorify Sokaris, expanding her role and importance, given that she had played a critical role in bringing them together their first year, and in preparing them for their first great adventure. On another level, however, the decision of the playwright to all but erase him both as a character and in his contributions to the plot…irritated him immensely.

Seeing Fred's obvious delight in the play had only rankled further, given how little respect it showed for everything the Japanese boy had done for him, especially after he had gone through the trouble of arranging for Fred to come to Japan during the summer so he could obtain a familiar.

'I really don't understand him. He got angry at Harry over Harry's animagus form, even though you can't control what you become,' Shinji thought to himself. 'And now he's happy at how this play insults me? What the hell is wrong with him?'

'At least the play still acknowledges you as a hero,' Luna pointed out, speaking mind to mind, 'even if there are things you did that aren't recognized.'

'…I suppose,' Shinji allowed, shaking his head. 'It's just…'

'Just what?'

'Let's just say I have a bad feeling about how Act II is going to go,' was all Shinji commented, though he nodded in thanks as Luna passed him a cup of cold pumpkin juice. The two sat together in silence for a time, not really talking to anyone else, just communing and sharing their thoughts, before the curtain rose again and the second act began.

It started off innocently enough, with the play's versions of Sokaris, Harry and Shinji standing amidst the desert sands, with the sun high overhead, the air dry and sharp, as low and level dunes rolling away into the distance – about as far removed as one could get from a Scottish Castle as one could imagine.

"Quite a wonder," the actor playing Matou Shinji noted as he looked around in surprise. "I didn't know the Book of Spells was capable of making something like this."

"It can create anything you can imagine," Sokaris commented dryly, her expression almost wistful as she looked into the distance, the sunlight bright upon her features. "Any place in the world. Or not in the world. Anywhere you wish to be."

"So then, Sokaris, what is this place?" Harry asked. Sokaris however, didn't answer, an expression of quiet longing on her face. "You're using the book I won from Quirrell's Christmas Challenge to come here, so I thought…Sokaris?"

"I was born amidst the desert sands," the girl finally spoke, closing her eyes as she let the false sunlight wash over her. "Named for the triple god Ptah-Seker-Osiris – Sokar, as he is called. The creator and craftsman. The falcon connected with rebirth. The god of the dead."

"You're…from Egypt," Harry surmised, his eyes wide, as he shook his head. "You're a long way from home."

"I am," she admitted. "I have not been home in a very long time," she said, her voice wavering slightly as she continued. "It is…wearisome, sometimes. Ah, quite wearisome."

"I'm sorry to hear that," the Boy-Who-Lived replied, with both he and Shinji reaching out to steady her – though she stepped away from both of them.

"Do not touch me," she admonished, opening her eyes as her body trembled. "Please."

"Alright…" Harry said reluctantly, looking to Shinji, who had a troubled expression on his face, as the Japanese boy withdrew a few slips of paper from his robes.

"It's the new year, Sokaris," Shinji offered, walking to stand by Sokaris' side and holding the pieces of paper out to her.

"What's this?" the purple-haired girl asked roughly.

"A tradition from my homeland," the Japanese boy explained. "Make a wish, and take one of these."

"Fortune-telling?" Sokaris questioned.

"Nothing wrong with it, is there?" Shinji shot back.

Sokaris said nothing, simply nodding as she tentatively took one of the papers from his hand.

"'Your wish will be granted?'" she read, raising an eyebrow.

"If it is in my power to do so, if there is anything I can do to help, then yes, certainly," Shinji replied roughly. "We are…friends, after all, aren't we?"

"Hn."

"Harry, do you have a wish?"

"…world peace?" the bespectacled youth offered.

"Heh," Sokaris grunted. "Knowing the nature of humanity, such is unlikely to occur."

"…joking aside," Harry deadpanned. "I don't have a wish – but I am thankful. Thankful for magic, thankful for Hogwarts – thankful for friends," Harry said at last. "Though if I had one…well, you both know."

"And you, Matou Shinji?" Sokaris asked quietly.

"…only that I may continue to be by your side," the Japanese boy answered, glancing longingly at the girl beside him, his cheeks red.

"Is it indeed?" Sokaris murmured, though she didn't turn to look at him. "Whatever you wish, hang fast to it, to that image of what you desire, for that itself is a form of magic. A story yet to be born, a narrative yet to be woven, a fairytale and ideal of the mind yet to touch mind, heart and soul. Remember your wish, for it will be power towards the day you become glorious."

There were more scenes between then and the final clash deep below Hogwarts, with the Stone Cutters training together, the duel in which Harry was revealed as the Heir of Slytherin, Shinji learning how to better brew potions and use them in combat from Sokaris, with the boy paying much more attention to the girl teaching him than to the potion itself, sometimes making a bit of a mess when his pot boiled over, and finally, the Stone Cutters chasing a silvery raven Patronus to a rather ominous looking door, with the bird saying "through here" before fading away.

"Through…but this is…the Forbidden Corridor!" Matou Shinji exclaimed as he looked around, wary that someone might waiting to ambush them. "We're not supposed to be here."

"Professor Quirrell needs our help," Harry said quietly. "He wouldn't have asked for us if there was anyone else."

"But Professor Dumbledore—"

"—is out of the Castle," Hillard supplied. "Professor Flitwick and Professor Snape are asleep, and Professor McGonagall is away for some reason. The Patronus found me on patrol, and asked me to come as quickly as I could – that there wasn't any time."

"What did it—"

"A dark wizard has entered the castle, seeking the Diadem of Ravenclaw – once lost, now found in the caverns under the castle," the prefect noted. "Professor Quirrell is holding him off, but he doesn't know how long he can last. And if the dark wizard gets his hands on that artifact…"

"Merlin's balls," George swore. "Wouldn't that make him one of the most powerful wizards of all time? Able to master any spell?"

"…yes, yes it would," Hillard stated. "I'm surprised you know that, since you're not a Ravenclaw."

"We can—"

"—still read!" the Twins rebutted.

"Right. Let's go then."

One by one, the Stone Cutters entered the subterranean tunnel of roughhewn stone, encountering traps and obstacles that Hillard explained were probably the result of the Diadem having been down here for centuries, as the legendary artifact had once tested those who sought to use its powers with challenges that they could defeat if they managed to use their wits.

And so they did, facing and overcoming a challenge of the flying keys, a puzzle involving a game of wizard's chess, a Boggart which had taken the form of a terrifying creature which called itself TATARI, and a troll, before arriving at a barrier of black flame and a table full of potions.

"It doesn't look like we can all pass," Hillard warned, with the prefect looking rather singed and bruised from the earlier puzzles. "It looks like whoever wants to go through has to drink from the proper potion vial. There's enough for one – maybe two – swallows at most, so…who will it be?"

"I'll go," said Harry.

"Are you certain?" Hillard questioned.

"I'm the leader of the Stone Cutters," the Boy-Who-Lived rejoined. "If I do not lead and share in the risks, how can I expect any of you to follow? That…and I've beaten a Dark Wizard before."

"…right," Hillard noted. "Then I guess—"

"I will accompany you, Harry Potter," Sokaris intoned, in a voice that would brook no disagreement from the Boy-Who-Lived. "Let us go, we are running short on time."

"No!" Shinji cried out, with Sokaris turning to look at him. "I mean…let me go, instead. We don't know what we're going to find out there, so…"

"All the more reason for it to be me," Sokaris said, almost gently. "I have more skill at our shared Art than you, Matou Shinji, and even should I pass – I am an orphan. None will miss me."

"But I—" Shinji had said, before shaking his head and taking a step back. "Promise me you'll be safe…?"

"I cannot," Sokaris answered, shaking her head. "I will not make a promise that I do not know I can keep. Matou, in case I do not return…"

"…yes?"

"Be strong," the purple-haired girl said, as she downed a swallow of the flame-proofing potion and handed the vial to Harry, who did as she did, as together, wands drawn, they passed through the flames.

"Alright, let's put our faith in them," Hillard noted. "But just in case, we're the rear guard. Let's get some shields set up, since if they fail…the enemy comes through here. Let's hope we don't need them."

As it happened, just as Harry and Sokaris passed through the barrier flame, they saw Professor Quirrell blasted off his feet by an inhuman looking Dark Wizard, his form crashing into the wall with a sickening crack like a ragdoll as his wand flew from his hand.

"Avada kedavra!" the foe hissed, with a jet of sickly green light striking the Defense Professor in the chest, as Quirinus Quirrell breathed his last.

Enraged by the sight of their professor being murdered before their eyes, Harry and Sokaris entered the fight, using Potions and what spells they knew against the Dark Wizard, though no matter what they did, it didn't seem to do much good, as their foe batted away their potions contemptuously, with their spells hitting the man and splintering ineffectually from his robes.

"This is who Quirrell summons to face me?" the enemy sneered, conjuring ropes to bind Harry with a snap of his fingers. "A half-vampire girl and the Boy-Who-Lived? I expected someone who might actually be a challenge, but it seems he was desperate. "

Sokaris lobbed two potion vials at the Dark Wizard, hoping to distract him, but her opponent countered with a wordless Reducto, with the blue beam slamming into the vials – and triggering the potion within to explode in a blast of force that sent the girl reeling – but didn't do much to the fallen wizard, who turned away – and so missed the girl vanishing from sight.

"Contemptible. Is this all the students of Albus Dumbledore can do these days?" the inhuman foe inquired sibilantly. "And here I thought my Master's only equal would have better trained the next generation of so-called heroes."

"Your Master?" Harry whispered. "You mean…"

"Yes," the Dark Wizard intoned with a note of utter satisfaction. "Gellert Grindelwald."

"G—who?" the Boy-Who-Lived asked, confused by the reply, as he had expected someone else entirely. "Not…Voldemort?"

"I care not for a pretender defeated by a mere child," the enemy hissed. "I served – serve – the greatest revolutionary the wizarding world has ever known. The one who will overthrow the corrupt Ministries of Europe and bring about a new age of prosperity, where giant, goblin, wizard, werewolf and muggle can live together in peace."

"You…you're mad…"

"Heheheh…so you say. But child, don't you know, the means justify the ends, and I'm quite thankful to Quirrell for delivering you into my hands. After all, you who have already defeated one Dark Lord will no doubt be a suitable vessel for my Master's revival."

"Reviv…"

"Yess indeed…" the dark figure noted as he walked to the back of the room, where a silver circlet set with a great sapphire – the Diadem of Ravenclaw – gleamed in the shadows. With a deep chuckle, the wizard waved his wand over the Diadem in a complex pattern before holstering it and lifting the crown from its pedestal with pale, bony fingers and walking towards the boy. "You see, boy, the Diadem is a horcrux, an artifact containing a piece of my Master's soul, as it were. A way to guarantee that even if Dumbledore – once my Master's closest ally – should betray him, that he could one day return to carry out his mission. To bring about world peace. Don't you want to help bring about a world without war, boy?"

Step by step by step the enemy wizard came closer, with Harry going stiff as the man came up to him at last, raising the diadem to Harry's head.

"Do not be afraid, child," the Dark Wizard said, almost gently. "We are past the agency of screams."

And then the world exploded, or so it seemed.

Over and over, as blasts of sound and fury echoed about the room, mingled with the sound of the servant of Grindelwald screaming as a silhouetted form rushed forward and embraced the Dark Wizard, pressing herself against him.

Realizing what she had planned, the foe acted.

"Avada kedavra!" the Dark Servant cried out, but it was too late, for even as a sickly green flash erupted from his body to strike the girl who had gotten close to him, the dozens upon dozens of vials of Exploding Potion she carried on her form erupted in a mighty roar, sending the enemy – and the Diadem he clung to – flying into the barrier of black flame, where the Servant of Grindelwald – and the Horcrux he had hoped to use to revive his Master – was burned to ash, found unworthy by the magic of the Diadem itself, with Sokaris going the other, her body broken and charred, already dead as she was thrown on the altar-like pedestal where the diadem had rested.

With the ancient artifact that powered the defenses no longer in existence, the barrier of flame winked out, with the other Stone Cutters rushing though the doorway with wands drawn to find a tied up Harry, no longer rigid from Dark Wizard's spell, and –

"No!"

—the broken body of Sialim Sokaris, who had given her life to stop the Servant of Grindelwald in the only way she could – by getting close enough that his defenses against her potions were meaningless.

Hillard and the Weasley Twins rushed to Harry's side, to see if he was alright and to free him from his bonds, but Matou Shinji did not, with his feet carrying him to the altar where Sokaris' body rested.

"No…" the boy repeated, his voice full of shock and utter disbelief. "Why?" Tenderly, he reached out to the charred form that in life had been his dearest friend, picking her up and cradling her close for the first – and last – time as he fell to his knees and wept.

And as the lights dimmed, the spotlight remained, shining bright on the Stone Cutters clustered around the Boy-Who-Lived. Matou Shinji, however, was not with them, lingering in the shadows with his beloved in his arms, his face looking down and away, grief writ across his features, as the curtain fell and Harry Potter – the true Harry Potter – took to the stage.

"There isn't a single person in the audience who doesn't know who I am: Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. You call me a hero for what I did, for stopping the Dark Lord when he was a child, and yet I have heroes of my own. My comrades, my brothers-in-arms, the Stone Cutters, without whom I would not be here today. This play is the story of our first adventure – the days we shared, the trials we faced, the foes we fought – and the friend we lost," Harry said, looking out at a silent crowd. "I am not the hero of this particular story. That honor belongs to all of those who stood with me against the troll, and especially to the late Sialim Sokaris, who died fighting the darkness so that I – so that countless others – could live. Her sacrifice laid the foundations for what we would become – the cornerstone of the nation's defense. But the cornerstone does not stand alone…" The boy paused for a moment to let the weight of his words sink in. "Tonight, I stand before you, not as a hero, not as the Boy-Who-Lived, but as a comrade. I stand before you as someone who has seen the darkness in the world and the bitter cost it has imposed on far too many of us. I stand before you to invite you to join me in standing against that darkness, in standing against fear, in standing against those who seek our end, because I tell you the truth when I say that together, we can – we will – overcome. I know you are afraid, that you think what is coming may be beyond you, that you wonder if anything we can do will be enough, but I tell you this – that if we stand united, if we support each other, standing side by side as heroes, comrades, brothers-in-arms, we can – and will – prevail, even if the world is against us. This I promise. This I vow, my friends, my comrades, my fellow citizens…and heroes."

In the wake of the play, Matou Shinji found himself rather emotionally overwhelmed, and not in the mood to say much to anyone – least of all nosy reporters who wanted to know what he thought of the…production. Still, the boy knew he had to say something, so he simply told them that he thought the cast and crew should be proud of how hard they worked, and that he hoped the play would lift the spirits of those who needed it most.

That seemed to satisfy most of the journalists, who seeing that the boy seemed emotionally distraught, had the courtesy not to pry further – though Rita Skeeter was not deterred.

"One more question, if you wouldn't mind, Champion Matou?" the Daily Prophet columnist requested of him. When Shinji said nothing, she took it as her cue to continue. "Having seen the play and having heard quite a few juicy rumors, I'm sure our readers want to know – is it true that even now, years after her passing, you are more loyal to the memory of Sokaris to anyone – or anything else?" Skeeter inquired, glancing between Shinji, who tensed at the question, and Luna with interest. "After all, rumor has it that the reason you sought to become Champion – opposing the Boy-Who-Lived – the leader of your organization in his quest to follow in his mother's footsteps, was because of your devotion to your fallen comrade. Do you have any comment on this, or if your acquaintance with the late Sialim Sokaris has affected you in any other ways?"

"…I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," was all Shinji said by way of reply, only for Skeeter to nod and note it down.

"I see. Thank you for your time, Champion."

Thankfully for Matou Shinji, the remainder of the press conference passed without further incident, with his comrades – especially Harry – being asked the bulk of the questions, since he had been involved both with the events on which the play was based and with the actual writing of the play. Still, that was about it for the boy's endurance, however, and when the press conference gave way to the post-premiere after party, a celebration of the production's first performance for the cast, crew, and special guests (like the Stone Cutters and Ministry VIPs), Shinji had no interest in mingling with the crowd – even if some of them might want to meet him.

"If you want to leave, I don't mind," Luna whispered to him, taking his hand. "I'm not one for big parties anyway."

'I do want to,' Shinji admitted, mind to mind, 'but it would look bad if I left before it even began, and didn't talk to anyone. They'd think I was…'

'…you are a little troubled.'

'How about I talk to one person, then, so no one can say I didn't try at all?'

'Do you mean Miss Granger?'

Shinji shook his head. If there was one thing he didn't think he could handle at the moment, it was a conversation with Hermione Granger, given their…history.

"Could you congratulate her for me?" he asked Luna. "I'm going to see if I can find someone else to talk to. And then after…" He squeezed her hand. "I have somewhere I want to show you."

Luna just smiled softly, as she released his hand and moved off to find Hermione – who was no longer in costume, who seemed less than entirely pleased to see her, while Shinji found his eye drawn to a woman dressed all in black sitting alone at a table, a woman whose long purple hair, purple eyes, and bronzed skin made her look almost exactly like the Director of Atlas currently did, only…Sion wouldn't, couldn't be here, not when she had so many other responsibilities.

So who was it that wore her face?

Shinji found himself needing to know, despite knowing that it would probably lead to yet more rumors, and so he walked over to the woman, noting that she was nursing a glass of firewhiskey.

"…a metamorphmagus, are you?" he asked, as the other looked up.

"Oh. It's you," the other said gruffly, recognition flickering in her eyes after a moment. "What's it to you?"

"I think you have an idea, since I'm guessing you used that appearance to keep people from approaching you tonight," Shinji replied. "What brings you here? Are you part of the stage crew? Or…"

"A guest," the other noted tersely. "Like you."

"…Auror Tonks, I presume?" the Japanese boy guessed, with the woman blinking in surprise. "You're the only metamorphmagus I know, and I know you were involved with Hillard, so…"

"Smart boy," Tonks noted, shaking her head. "But he always said you were. Though he also said you liked to involve yourself in other people's business too damned much."

"I would say I don't, but…I was just curious why you would wear…that face," Shinji said quietly. "It's not…" In good taste, he wanted to say, especially around people for whom her features would only further evoke memories the play had riled up.

"It's not by choice," the Auror answered, looking down with a sigh. "Hate to admit it, but metamorphmagi don't have as much control over what we look like when we're…strongly affected. It's why I'm on leave from active duty."

"Ah. My condolences," Shinji responded with a slight bow. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"You too, kid. He was your friend, right? Just like that Sokaris girl."

"…yeah, he was my friend," the Japanese boy admitted. "Not like Sokaris though. No one was – is – like her."

"You still think about her?"

"All the time."

Nymphadora Tonks shook her head once more, a sad smile gracing her lips.

"So…does it get any easier? Three years down the line and all?"

Shinji looked down.

"I wish I could say yes to that."

"…I wish you could too," Tonks replied after nearly a minute. "You'd better go," she added, glancing over towards the entrance to the Great Hall.

"Hm?"

"Your lady friend," the Auror said laconically, with Shinji glancing over and finding this was so. "Lovegood. She's waiting for you. Go."

"…Right then. Take care, Professor." He paused, not knowing the right words to say. "And feel better."

"Heh. Maybe when I finish this Firewhiskey," Tonks muttered, waving him off as she downed the entire glass in a single go, before stalking over to the bar for another, while Shinji moved over the entrance of the Great Hall, where Luna waited, with her white fox upon her shoulder – a perch the creature vacated in favor of Shinji's more fluffy head.

"Finished already?" he asked. "I'm surprised, I thought Hermione would have wanted to say more."

"Mm, she's talking to Fred now," Luna commented. "I don't think she likes me very much."

"…no, I guess she might not," Shinji allowed, shaking his head as he held out his hand, with Luna intertwining her fingers with his. "Ready to go?"

"Of course," Luna murmured, squeezing his hand. "But what did you want to show me?"

The boy smiled faintly at her question.

"Why, a perfect autumn day."