The heat was almost tangible in the air. Steam rose up from the boiling pot in the center of the table.

Harry Potter chewed contentedly on a piece of meat. This "hot pot" concept was actually really cool. A pot of continually boiling water was in the center of the table. Plates of vegetables and raw meat lay to the side, and whenever someone wanted to have a piece, they'd toss the food into the boiling water and wait for it to cook.

Harry made sure to stay far away from the pot, kneeling at the far end of the table. He consciously drew in his magic so as to not agitate the electrical pot and cause an incident.

Rin suddenly clapped her hands together loudly, startling everyone.

"It's time," she announced. Harry's eyebrows rose in anticipation. Rin brought out an innocent-looking jar filled with a red sauce from under the table.

"This is the pinnacle of my research," Rin removed the lid. "Its spiciness will overwhelm you. Come, have a taste."

"Wait," Shirou leaned forward, confusion written on his face. "Where did you get that sauce from? How did you make it? I didn't see you in the kitchen at all tonight."

"I kept it in my bag," Rin said.

"You brought spicy sauce for your stay over?" Shirou asked with a judging stare.

"I didn't think you'd have any that were up to my standards," Rin defended. "Stop looking at me like that! It's perfectly normal for me to bring around spicy sauce!"

"It's not," Harry supplied helpfully, sipping the perfectly seasoned soup from his spoon.

Rin shot him a scathing glare that contrasted with the slight red dusting her cheeks. "Do you guys want any or not? Except you, Harry. You don't have a choice. Here, take some"

Harry chuckled. "Alright." He held out his bowl and Rin poured copious amounts of the red sauce into it.

"I'll have some too," Shirou held out his bowl also.

"As will I," Saber said, holding out her bowl.

"Ooh, give me some too," Fujimura waved her bowl around. Miraculously, nothing spilled out.

Rin smiled. "You'll love it."

After pouring the spicy sauce into everyone's bowl, Rin sat back, dipped some lettuce into her own sauce, and crunched down on it, observing everyone's reactions.

Shirou took the first bite, slowly chewing on a piece of ultra-thin sliced beef dipped in the spicy sauce. He jolted back in surprise. "The seasoning is intense, but this is really good!" He took another bite, then another, quickly finishing off the piece of beef.

"Oh? I'm glad," Rin grinned. Her gaze swiveled to the rest of them, passing over Harry and Fujimura before resting on Saber. Rin blinked before her grin grew even wider.

Saber had not said anything. She couldn't say anything, because she was shoveling food into her mouth at an incredible rate. Her chopsticks seemed to literally blur as she dipped various pieces of meat and vegetables into the sauce and bit down, all the while not getting any food on the table or on her clothes.

One of these days, Harry was going to figure out where all of the calories went. One day.

"Do you like it, Saber?" Rin asked rhetorically, already knowing the answer.

Saber simply shot Rin a double thumbs-up before going back to the food.

Well, if they enjoyed it, surely it can't be that bad, right? Harry tentatively dipped the meat into the sauce and took a bite.

It was spicy. Definitely one of the spiciest things Harry had ever eaten- though the list wasn't very long. It burned.

Harry applied a quick Soothing charm to his tongue just so it wouldn't hurt too much. Call it cheating, but while Harry could take physical and mental pain like a boss, Harry had never really conditioned his tongue to be immune to spicy foods.

He knew it was possible to gain immunity, since every time you ate spicy food, you'd become a little more resistant, but he hadn't had the chance to eat too much spicy food. Bacon, eggs, porridge, toast, braised beef, mashed potatoes, muffins, and many other dishes had been served at Hogwarts, but barely any had been very spicy, much to the dismay of the Patil twins.

"It's good," Harry complimented. "It's unexpectedly good."

"What do you mean by unexpectedly?" Rin crossed her arms.

"I don't eat spicy food all that much. I expected it to be a lot worse," Harry answered.

Rapid panting sounds reached his ears. "Water," Fujimura croaked out.

Shirou handed her a cup of tea. "You okay, Fuji-nee?"

Fujimura gratefully accepted the cup, gulping it all down. "Thanks, Shirou. That was really really really spicy. I think I'll stick to plain hot pot for now on. Sorry, Rin."

"No worries, Fujimura-sensei," Rin smiled.

Saber set down her empty bowl. Was she finished eating already? There's no way. Harry was proven correct a moment later when Saber dropped even more meat into the boiling point. Saber then looked up towards Rin with a satisfied expression. "The sauce gives the food just the right amount of heat. Good work, Rin. You have my approval."

Naturally, Saber would approve. Dragons breathed out fire, and Saber had dragon heartstrings implanted in her body. Eating food that would set your tongue aflame is literally in Saber's blood.

Come to think of it, was Saber fire resistant like most dragons were? Harry would have to test that out.

"Harry, why aren't you affected?" Shirou asked in between bites.

Harry finished chewing before tilting his head questioningly. "What do you mean?"

"You're not sweating. You're not sniffling. Your face isn't even a bit red. There's no indication that you think this is spicy at all. I thought you didn't eat a lot of spicy food."

"I don't," Harry answered truthfully.

Rin's jaw dropped. Fortunately, she hadn't been eating anything, so Harry was not treated to the sight of half-chewed food. He'd had enough of that during his time at Hogwarts.

"You. . . you can't be. But you are, aren't you?" Rin accused. "You don't feel the heat at all, right? Is this because of your. . . extracurriculars?!"

"Yup" Harry confirmed with a nod.

"That's cheating! You're cheating!" Rin cried.

Harry smiled. "If you're not cheating, you're not trying."

Rin narrowed her eyes. "Cancel it out now. Otherwise, you won't fully understand the deliciousness."

"Sorry, no can do. It would take another couple of hours before it wears off," Harry lied. He was willing to do many things, but subjecting his tongue to liquid fire was not one of them.

Rin glared before relenting. "Fine. Next time, though."

"What extracurriculars is she talking about? Before what wears off?" Fujimura interjected suspiciously, squinting at Harry. "Are you taking drugs?"

Harry bemusedly raised his eyebrows at Fujimura. Why is it that she always somehow arrived at the worst conclusions? FIrst she thought they were having a four-way. Now she suspects him of taking drugs. It's almost as if she grew up in a criminal family, or something.

"I would never take drugs," Harry affirmed. "Rin's merely talking about my. . . meditation. You see, I'm currently meditating to. . . ignore the pain."

Harry mentally facepalmed immediately after. Rin, Saber, and Shirou all shot him incredulous looks.

That excuse wasn't exactly the best. In fact, it was probably one of his worst. There's no way Fujimura would buy it-

"I never knew meditation could do that," Fujimura contemplated. "I'll have to learn it someday. Maybe then I can finally eat spicy foods."

She bought it.

. . . well then.

The sound of rapid chewing drew Harry's attention. It appeared that Saber's food had finished cooking, and she was consuming it ravenously.

Harry wondered what would happen if he brought Saber along to an all-you-can-eat buffet. It would definitely be an. . . interesting sight. Perhaps after the War was over. Assuming, of course, that he'll be able to stay in this world.

XxX

Harry paced the clearing in Shirou's compound. He was mentally replaying the day's events, and no matter how he looked at it, the conclusion was clear.

He may have made a big mistake in letting Shinji leave.

At the time, it seemed to be an easy decision. Shinji was scum, but he was still young. Redemption was a possibility.

Most importantly, Shirou had told Harry to not pursue Shinji. That was the main reason why Harry hadn't hunted Shinji down. He respected Shirou's wishes, and he would follow them.

Besides, Harry couldn't exactly blame Shinji for what he's done so far.

After all, Shinji was a powerless kid thrown into a death battle. Harry could sympathize with that- the same thing had happened to him with the Triwizard Tournament. Shinji was powerless, Rin had already confirmed that. When surrounded and at risk of being attacked by literal legends, it's understandable when the moral line blurs a bit.

When Harry may not have liked what Shinji and his Servant had done, he couldn't exactly blame him. It must've been terrifying to have been thrust unwillingly into an unknown situation, completely at the mercy of attackers far stronger than him. You gotta do what you gotta do to survive.

And for Shinji, his only hope for survival was Rider, and if it meant Rider draining innocents. . . While it was a deplorable act, it was understandable. Besides, it wasn't lethal; the girl, Mitsuzuri, had woken up. So at least Shinji hadn't completely crossed the line.

Besides, there was always the possibility that Rider did the draining of her own accord in order to remain in the world. And if she decided to do that, then there was nothing Shinji could do to stop her. Besides using his Command Seals, of course, but given that Shinji probably wanted Rider to remain in the world, he wouldn't have used them.

Shinji hadn't asked to join the War. Just like Shirou, he had had no choice. Shinji, irritating and provoking as he may be, was a victim here.

Harry killed evil in the world for the Greater Good. Lancer, Caster, Shinji, Illya. . . they weren't true evil. Not even close.

Shinji may be scum, but he hasn't actually showcased any real malicious intent. He hasn't gone out for the sole purpose of hurting others. He hasn't even killed anyone yet. So far, his every action, even though it may have hurt others, had been purely defensive.

If Harry went around killing everybody that were scum, then half of the world's politicians would be dead.

Those were Harry's reasons for letting Shinji leave. But now that he actually thought about it, he may have made a big mistake.

He let logic dictate his actions too much. He let his memory of being thrown unceremoniously into the Triwizard Tournament dictate his actions too much. Above all, he let Shirou's request of leaving Shinji alone dictate his actions too much.

Because he had made one critical error. Lancer, Caster, Illya, and every other participant he'd met so far in the War. . . his intuition had remained calm and composed. When he had met Shinji, his intuition had been screaming at him.

Harry had ignored it, because what can one teenage kid still in school do? What evil, deplorable act could he have committed?

But the fact that his intuition had set off so many red flags when he had met Shinji. . . Well, even meeting Berserker, who had been literally mad, hadn't set off any red flags.

Harry hadn't really reflected on it at the time, but now that he actually thought about it, there had to be something deeply wrong about Shinji.

Harry stopped pacing around and nodded to himself. He made up his mind.

Tomorrow, he'll take Shinji out of the War. He may not kill Shinji. He probably won't; Shinji was still a teenager, after all, and he hasn't done anything too bad yet. But Harry will definitely remove Shinji from the War situation.

People do terrible things when they're desperate and their lives are on the line. Harry just has to ensure that Shinji is no longer in a death battle where morals are cast aside for the sake of survival.

Killing Rider might work. Harry was fairly certain that once the Servant has died, there's no point in the Master continuing fighting. He could also try to extract Shinji's Command Seals. However, both of those methods would be difficult.

The simplest solution is that Harry would simply Apparate Shinji to some isolated location to prevent him from returning to Japan to fight in the War.

Harry heard that North Korea was particularly nice this time of year.

XxX

Illya hummed a happy tune to herself as she walked along the streets. She walked with a small skip, and there was a little smile on her face.

"Berserker," she said happily. "Are you ready?"

Berserker didn't respond. He never did. Speech was well out of his grasp, mad as he is. He could, however, send brief flashes of emotion, and Illya felt anticipation and a small thirst for revenge.

Revenge for what, Illya didn't know.

"We're going to be meeting Harry Potter again tonight," Illya's smile grew wider at the thought.

Strangely, the feeling of revenge only grew stronger at the mention of Harry.

"And, not only that, but we're also going to meet Onii-chan again."

Illya's smile dimmed a little as her artificial heart clenched from the pain of betrayal that always seemed to come up whenever she thought about Onii-chan. The pain came less from the thought of Onii-chan himself and more from the person she associated with him.

Why hadn't Kiritsugu visited her? Why had he abandoned her?

He promised her.

He promised.

Berserker seemed to sense her inner turmoil, because he hesitantly patted the top of Illya's head with a hand bigger than the head itself. His face, while it didn't exactly smile, seemed to be comforting.

Illya smiled. "Thanks, Berserker."

No words were said, but Illya somehow felt the Berserker's message.

Anything for you.

"We're going to be fighting a Sorcerer. This time, Berserker, it's going to be different. We're going to win."

Berserker roared out in agreement. "AARRRGGGHHHHH-"

"SHHH," Illya waved her hands frantically at him. "Not so loud! We're outside right now!"

Berserker shrinked into himself. ". . . arrghh?"

"Much better. Onwards! Let us go defeat him!" Illya pointed forwards towards the Emiya residence. The residence she should've lived at with Kiritsugu-

She shook her head. No. Illya resolved to not think of him anymore tonight. He's not going to ruin this night. Like she had done so many times before, Illya cast Kiritsugu into a deep dark corner of her mind.

The Sorcerer would be defeated tonight by Berserker. There was no way that Berserker would lose. Because Berserker was strong.

Once the Sorcerer has been thoroughly defeated. . . well, there's no rule that says he must be killed right away.

Harry Potter was interesting. Harry Potter was nice. Harry Potter had saved her.

Illya wouldn't mind keeping him around for a bit.

XxX

Caster stared down at her hands.

She had failed.

The Sorcerer couldn't do a single thing for her. Caster was forced to stick to her original plan- a plan that may not work just because of how strong the other Servants were. Especially Berserker. Now he was someone she didn't want to fight. Because if she did, there was a very good chance that she would die.

She didn't want to die. Not again. Not when she's finally found someone who truly loved her.

One memory nagged at her. One persistent memory that just wouldn't go away.

"Incompatible? Well, no matter. Do you know how to attain immortality?"

Harry Potter's stony face stared at her. "I do, but all the methods require me doing things that I will not do. Humans aren't meant to be immortal. Do not ever try it. That is my only warning to you. You won't like the results."

Harry Potter knew the secrets of immortality.

Caster had hoped for a way to attain a new body. Instead, Harry Potter revealed that he knew the secrets of immortality.

She had looked for an olive branch, but found golden drachmas instead.

Caster materialized Rule Breaker in her hands, staring down at it.

She wanted Harry Potter as a Servant. He may not have been a conventional Servant, but he still had Command Seals binding him. Which meant there was still a binding contract, no matter how faint and unusual it may be.

Rule Breaker nullifies all magic.

A smile spread across Caster's face. That would do. She'll make Harry Potter hers, force him to reveal the secrets of immortality, and have him defeat Berserker.

She wanted Saber too. Caster looked around her room. Multiple Saber figurines stared back at her, products of her magecraft. Her gaze fell upon her closet, where many outfits were stored. Saber would look so cute dressed up in them-

Caster coughed. Of course, Saber would also assist Harry Potter in defeating Berserker. She wasn't confident enough in the Sorcerer's abilities to think that he alone could defeat Berserker.

Heracles was just that strong. There was a reason why she stayed as far away from him as possible.

She had heard about his heroic deeds even before she had met the Argonauts. She had met him on the Argo. They hadn't mixed well.

He was one person she did not want to fight.

Fortunately, within the temple, Caster was safe from Berserker. She had the home field advantage, not to mention how Assassin was also guarding the entrance- though Caster honestly doubted he could even touch Berserker.

Unfortunately, she couldn't stay within the temple. She could try to lure Harry and Saber here by controlling Shirou, but she doubted the spell would work. Harry would cancel it the moment he sensed it.

So what could she do?

She could try to sneak attack, but Harry Potter's teleportation was far superior to her own. She doubted she could take him by surprise. She couldn't even do anything to Saber because Saber would just block Rule Breaker with her godlike reflexes.

Which meant. . .

She had to draw the Sorcerer into the temple through different means. When Caster had been observing them, she had noticed a certain purple-haired girl with the group. If Caster remembered correctly, Sakura was her name. The Tohsaka girl had said it when they walked to school in the morning.

She had no mana that Caster could sense- a rarity among humans. She must be exceptionally weak, much weaker than even the average human.

Hitting her with a sleeping spell and taking her hostage shouldn't be difficult at all. She's sure that the Sorcerer would come. And when he does enter the temple. . . well. She'll have the home turf advantage, to say the least.

Yes, that would work. That would work indeed.

She'll kidnap Sakura tomorrow. For now, she'll prepare the temple for the upcoming battle.

If people were astonished by her power normally, then they'd be thunderstruck at what she could do when she had time to prepare.

XxX

"What happened to no contact?" Kotomine asked exasperatedly.

"It was self-defense" Lancer replied automatically. "He attacked first."

"I'm sure," Kotomine sighed tiredly. "At least he spared your life. It would've been a pain if you had died."

"Thanks, I'm feeling the love here."

"I don't love you," Kotomine stared blankly at Lancer.

". . . it was an expression- you know what? Nevermind. Just. . . nevermind." Lancer turned around and began heading out again. "Call me if you need me."

"Lancer," Kotomine called.

Lancer stopped, turning back around in surprise. "What?" He asked bluntly.

"I need you to check something for me," Kotomine's eyes unfocused for a second before sharpening. "Find out what Harry Potter's plans are for. . . peace."

"Peace?" Lancer tilted his head. "Very well then. Anything else?"

"That is all," Kotomine dismissed.

He watched Lancer leave with a peculiar look in his eyes.

Gilgamesh was out right now. Kotomine didn't know where he was, and he didn't particularly care either. The King of Heroes came and went as he pleased, and let the heavens help those who try to stop him.

No, what Kotomine did care about was Harry Potter. Why had he let Lancer live? Why hadn't he killed Lancer?

Kotomine had no doubt in his mind that if Harry Potter truly wished it, he could absolutely destroy Lancer. So why hadn't he?

Unless Harry Potter had an ulterior motive. Unless Harry Potter was more than he seemed.

Unless Harry Potter was who Kotomine thought he was.

Kirei Kotomine really really really hoped that was the case. Because if it was. . . well. Gilgamesh had always told him that a soul naturally seeks pleasure.

And if that pleasure comes from others' pain and suffering, so be it.

XxX

Harry strolled into the dojo, already hearing the sound of wood hitting wood.

"You're improving, Shirou," Harry observed.

"Thank yo-" Shirou's words ended in a painful grunt as Saber stabbed the tip of the wooden sword into his stomach. He was pushed back several feet.

"In a battle, never take your eyes off of the enemy. Never get distracted. Only speak when you're confident that you're not in any danger," Saber lectured.

"I was responding to Harry!" Shirou protested.

"Yeah, I always try not to attack when my enemies are talking to others. It's basic politeness," Harry chimed in.

"Nevertheless," Saber said, "Not all enemies would be like you, Harry."

"Fair enough. Oh, don't stop on my account. Continue." Harry sat down cross-legged on the wooden floor, watching Shirou get slammed around. It was oddly entertaining.

. . . was this a sign of sadism? Nah, there's no way. It's perfectly normal to enjoy seeing people get hit around.

After a while, Harry heard footsteps approaching. Judging from the type of shoes, walking pace, and rhythm, it was Rin.

His guess was confirmed a moment later when Rin stepped into the dojo.

"Oh? Shirou, you're learning swordsmanship?" Rin asked.

Shirou let out a deep breath. "Yeah, I am-" He blocked Saber's sudden thrust, knocking her wooden sword to the side.

Saber smiled. "Good job. You're learning."

Shirou smiled back, wiping some sweat off his forehead. "Thanks."

"And I thought you were going to learn some magecraft with me," Rin crossed her arms.

"Sorry, but I can only really do Reinforcement. I suck at everything else," Shirou said dejectedly.

"That's unfortunate. Although I probably wouldn't have taught you any of the advanced techniques, because I have to keep it within the family. In fact, it's better that you're learning swordsmanship. This way, there's nothing limiting you from becoming the best." Rin sat down next to Harry, leaning her head onto her hand.

That's right. The mages of this world kept their techniques secret from others, passing it down in the form of Magic Crests.

"How were you trained?" Harry asked Rin.

"Hmm?" Rin looked at him. Her blue eyes seemed to glow, then dim. "My father trained me."

As Harry suspected. Instead of going to a magical school, magecraft was taught by family members.

"I see."

"How were you trained?"

"When I was five years old, my teacher Dumbledore began teaching me magic until I was eleven, when I began formal magical schooling at Hogwarts, with private lessons from Dumbledore nearly every day."

Harry still didn't understand how Dumbledore found the time to be able to train Harry every day while keeping on top of his duties as Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock, and Headmaster of Hogwarts. His time management techniques was state-of-art.

"That's interesting. So magic wasn't kept within a family, instead freely shared?" There was a hint of disbelief in Rin's tone, as if she still couldn't wrap her mind around the concept.

"Not all magic was freely shared, but most was. Only the Darkest, most foul magics were concealed from the public." By Dumbledore and Harry. "Families did have their own secret magic, but most of it was Dark, and couldn't be used anyhow because it had been outlawed."

"Outlawed? So there was a government, right? In fact, hadn't you mentioned a 'British Ministry of Magic' and an 'International Confederation of Wizards' when you first arrived in this world?"

Rin's memory was good.

"Yup. Although the primary purpose of the government was to prevent the discovery of magic."

There were a few regulatory departments as well as the law enforcement, but the Ministry itself was instituted primarily to prevent Muggles from ever discovering magic.

The ICW also focused on regulating trade and maintaining peace among the different Ministries, but its main purpose was to enforce the Statute of Secrecy and ensure that every country was doing its part.

After all, if one country fails in its job of keeping magic secret, then the whole world would know. If there's one thing every magical community agrees on, it's that Muggles knowing that magic exists would be a massive pain to deal with.

"Is the power of your spells also diminished if more people are using it?" Rin asked.

Harry frowned. "What?"

"When we cast spells and such, there is an energy source with a predetermined fixed amount of energy that we draw from. As such, the more people that use the magecraft, the weaker it becomes because the energy must be split among more people," Rin explained.

Harry stared. "What?" He repeated.

"What do you mean by 'what?' This is the main reason why we conceal our existence from mundane folks. We have to limit the amount of people that draw upon the energy at a time." Rin fidgeted under Harry's stare. "Why, what's wrong?"

"That's so. . . wrong. A predetermined fixed energy source?! Magic becoming weaker the more people that know it?" Harry waved his hands around, growing increasingly frantic. "What kind of broken system is that?!"

"It's not broken," Rin defended. "Are you saying that the strength of a spell doesn't diminish the more people that use it?"

"Of course not! That would be ridiculous," Harry ran his hand through his hair. "Oh man. That must be tough for you guys. The next thing you know, you'll be telling me that the mana around you is limited."

"It is. . ."

Harry threw up his hands. "Why am I not surprised?"

"I mean, mana is a non-renewable resource. I'm sure that's a foreign concept to you, Mr. I-have-unlimited-prana," Rin crossed her arms. "Now that's a broken system. You can literally cast spells all day."

"Wizards still feel fatigue, you know. We can't cast it all day." Physical and mental exhaustion were the only things that limit a wizard's ability to cast magic.

Sadly, magic has yet to be able to allow wizards to go without sleep or rest. Or conjure food, for that matter.

Harry still didn't understand why you couldn't conjure food. It was such a strange exception.

A loud thud drew both of their attention. Shirou had landed on his back. Saber was holding his sword in her other hand. She had disarmed him.

"Rise, Shirou. Guard your left better. You have a tendency to overextend by half an inch whenever blocking a downward diagonal slash from the left. That creates an opening for an enemy to capitalize on," Saber analyzed.

"Really? I never noticed," Shirou got up, catching the tossed sword easily in his hand. "Once more?"

"Yes." Saber was about to rush Shirou when Harry stood up.

"Hold on a second," Harry said. "Shirou, can I see your sword please?"

"Huh? Yeah, why?" Shirou handed Harry the wooden sword.

"Typically, I wouldn't do this to an experienced swordsman- or swordswoman- because they're already accustomed to the weight of the sword and any changes could mess them up. However, with a novice like you who doesn't even have his own blade yet, this could work" As Harry spoke, he concentrated before tapping the wooden sword twice.

There wasn't any light emitted, but suddenly Harry felt as if he was holding nothing at all. Harry handed the sword back to Shirou.

"What did you do- whoa!" Shirou examined the sword with unfiltered fascination. "I can't even feel this! It's so light!" He waved around the sword experimentally. He was faster than before, much faster.

Harry smiled. "It's the classic Featherlight charm. It reduces the mass of an object."

Rin stood up also, her hand outstretched in a "give me" gesture. "Shirou. Give it. Now."

Shirou obediently handed the sword to her. Rin took it with a satisfied smile, examining it critically before waving it around. She sliced the air a few times, then stabbed it once.

"True Magic is amazing." Rin offered the sword back to Harry.

Harry summoned the sword to his hand. "Yeah, I know right? Magic is awesome."

"May I?" Saber asked.

"Certainly," Harry handed her the sword.

Saber weighed it in her hand stepping away from them. She held the sword in front of her and closed her eyes, taking a deep, controlled breath. Then her eyes snapped open and she let loose a flurry of slashes and strikes at an imaginary enemy.

"It's too light," Saber handed the sword back to Shirou. "Harry, you're correct in that it would only mess me up. Please, do not use that charm on my sword."

"I won't," Harry assured. "Anyways, Shirou, that should give you an unfair advantage over your enemies. All you have to do is to get your reaction speed up so you can utilize your speed to the fullest."

Shirou stabbed the sword several times. "Yup. Oh, this is unfair. It's so light. When will the charm wear off?"

"It'll only wear off when I either cancel the charm or die. I can make the charm permanent with runes, if you'd like," Harry offered.

"Nah, it's fine. I won't be fighting with a wooden sword. I'm only practicing with this," Finished testing it out, Shirou turned to face Saber again. Saber readied her own sword as well.

"Wait," Harry stopped them once more. "Before you get too beat up, let's go over our strategy first. "

"Very well," Saber sat down across from Rin and Harry. After a slight moment's hesitation, Shirou reluctantly placed down his sword and sat down as well. Harry smiled at that. Shirou must've really wanted to test the sword out in battle.

"First things first, let's talk about Shinji Matou," Harry said.

"Who's Shinji Matou?" Saber inquired.

"Curly blue hair, Master of Rider, irritating nuisance," Harry summarized. "Shirou, I don't know what your relationship with him is, but my intuition is telling me that he's bad news. I ignored it this afternoon, and that was my bad. I won't be making the same mistake again."

Shirou sighed. "He was once a good friend, you know? It's just that. . . he's changed."

"People change. It is an unfortunate reality of life, no matter how much we wish for it to not be true," Saber said.

"Indeed. At first, I thought about simply killing Shinji," Harry stated.

"That escalated quickly," Rin muttered.

"You can't kill him! He may not be the nicest person, but that doesn't mean he should be killed!" Shirou objected.

"Relax, I have no intentions of ending his life," Harry placated. "There's still a chance that he could turn around. Redemption isn't out of the question yet. Shinji hasn't done anything too bad."

Harry wouldn't give pure evil a second chance. Thankfully, Shinji has yet to reach that level and as such, Harry would give Shinji a second chance to redeem himself.

Just one, though. There would be no third chance. Harry was nice, but not that nice.

"What will you do to him then?" There was an anticipating gleam in Rin's eyes.

"Here's how I see it. Shinji, a powerless kid, has been unwillingly thrown into a terrifying death battle situation. I can't exactly blame him for what he's done so far- people do terrible things when their lives are on the line. As such, I must remove Shinji from this situation."

"How will you remove Shinji? Will you knock him into a coma? Perhaps break every bone in his body and curse him to not be able to be healed until the completion of the War?" Rin asked. "Better yet, curse him to not be healed, ever?"

Harry stared at Rin, slightly disturbed. "Why are your methods all so cruel?"

"Because that's what he deserves," Rin smiled dangerously. Harry gulped. She must still not be over what Shinji had said this afternoon.

"Umm, well, I was thinking more along the lines of Apparating him to an isolated place where he'll be unable to return to Japan. A place with really strict border control. Personally, I think that I should send him to North Korea."

Rin and Shirou gaped at Harry. As the seconds ticked on, Harry grew more and more worried. "Guys? You okay there?" No reply. "Saber?"

Saber shook her head. "The Grail hasn't provided me any information about this North Korea. I'm as lost as you are."

Rin recovered first. "You want to send Shinji to North Korea?" She asked incredulously.

Harry nodded. "I hear that it's extremely difficult to get in and out. I'm not sure how it is in this world, but it can't be too different."

"And you say my methods are cruel," Rin began laughing suddenly. "In fact, no. I approve of your idea. Teleport him there."

"NO!" Shirou shouted. "Harry, are you even aware of the situation in North Korea?"

Harry shrugged. "Not really. I don't keep up with Muggle affairs all that much. I've heard that it's extremely difficult to cross the border, but that's about it."

"It's much worse than that! I don't think they've even heard of 'human rights' before! You can't send Shinji there!" Shirou protested.

Rin nodded. "The mages there hate outsiders. They hate prominent mage families even more. If they even hear the name Matou, we'll probably never see Shinji again."

"Alright, alright, fine. Russia, then?" Harry suggested.

Shirou calmed down. "I'm okay with that."

"It's decided then. When we see him tomorrow, I'll relocate him North. What about his Servant, Rider? What do we do with her?"

"We eliminate her," Saber answered.

"Yup. The Bounded Field at school won't disappear fully until its creator has died, and Rider could still activate the Field at any time. I don't think Shinji would activate it, but with him gone, Rider might become desperate," Rin narrowed her eyes. "I won't allow that."

Shirou shifted uncomfortably. "So we've decided to kill her, just like that?"

"Shirou. She has already died. I don't know how the Grail brought her back to life, but the dead need to remain dead," Harry said gently. "No offense, Saber."

"None taken," Saber replied. Harry frowned slightly. The same troubled look was back on Saber's face.

Oh well. He won't pry.

"Besides, we already know that she created a Bounded Field that would literally kill everyone in the school if activated," Harry continued. "She crossed the line."

Shirou sighed. "Fine."

Harry mentally prepared himself. He took a deep breath. "There's one more thing. Saber, we ran into a Servant tonight."

"What?!" Saber sat up straight, tensing up. "Who was it?"

"Lancer," Harry said. "Don't worry, no one was hurt. We had a small fight, and then he left."

Rin began laughing. "It wasn't just a 'small fight."' She ignored Harry's frantic signals for her to stop speaking. "Harry was about to win, but he stopped because Lancer called, and I quote, a 'time out.'"

Why does Rin have to do this to him? Harry shot her a quick dirty glare.

Saber directed her cool gaze towards Harry. "You stopped your attack because Lancer called a 'time out?'"

". . . maybe?"

Saber let out a sigh. "I have no words. Please, don't do it again."

"I'll try not to." Harry winced under Saber's frosty glare. ". . . I will not."

Saber nodded, satisfied. "Did you find out anything new about Lancer?"

Harry's gaze became serious. "Lancer's Master commanded Lancer to not go full-out on his first fight with any opponent."

"What? With a Command Seal?" Saber looked confused at the thought.

"He didn't specify, but I think so. In any case, the next time you fight him, be careful. He'll be a lot stronger and faster than when you first fought him. Don't be caught off guard," Harry warned.

Saber shook her head, bewildered. "Why would Lancer's Master do that? It makes no sense. Why limit your Servant's power intentionally in the first fight?"

Harry shrugged. "No idea."

Rin crossed her arms. "It could be because Lancer's Master wants to prolong the War. Perhaps he enjoys watching people fight."

Shirou looked genuinely mad at that. "The longer the War drags on, the more people would be hurt. Doesn't he care about that?"

"Some men, Shirou, live to see the world burn. They revel in people's suffering," Harry said solemnly. "It is those people that we must stop at all costs, for the Greater Good. Still, I feel bad for Lancer. It must suck, having a Master like that."

"Indeed. Shirou, you may be unable to provide me mana, but you have honor and morals and compassion. Those are the things that matter," Saber said with fire burning in her eyes.

Harry glanced at Saber. That was exceptionally inspiring for such a short speech. Saber's charisma was extraordinary.

Then again, she was a king. Charisma was kind of necessary for a ruler to have.

Shirou smiled. "Thanks, Saber. I'm glad to have-"

"Quiet," Harry hissed. His hand flew to his head. There was a slight ringing sound that only he could hear. His ward had gone off. "There's someone here."

Saber leaped to her feet, armor and Invisible Air materializing in an instant. "Shirou, Rin, stay back. If they're launching a frontal assault on our home base, it can only mean they're supremely confident in their chances of victory."

Harry waved his hand, eyes closed and concentrating intently. The air resistance around Saber was lowered to negligible amounts as a small layer of magic formed over her skin. It was a charm normally used for racing broomsticks to allow for faster changes in motion by dissipating momentum, but it could be casted on other objects. The combination of these two spells meant that Saber's agility and maneuverability just shot up by several magnitudes- definitely enough to avoid Berserker's fierce attacks.

There was a sound of an explosion from outside.

"Damnit, they've already started?!" Harry grabbed Saber and Apparated them into the clearing.

Archer was being pushed back by Berserker. He was holding beautiful twin daggers, a black and white one. Harry watched Berserker slam his axe-sword down onto the black dagger, shattering it into shards of light. There was another dagger in Archer's hand even before the light fell down to the ground.

Saber wasted no time in rushing Berserker directly, jumping in front of Archer and unleashing a devastating downward slash. Berserker twisted to the side, deflecting Saber's sword to the side, then changed the direction of his sword to slam into Saber's side.

Saber blocked the blow- and was blasted backwards from the force.

A soft wall of dirt rose up and stopped Saber from crashing into the concrete compound wall.

Harry stepped forward, intently concentrating on his spell. A moment later, a wave of magic blew out from Harry's hand, passing through everything harmlessly and formed a bubble around the entire compound and then some.

Harry breathed out slowly. That was probably the largest muggle-repelling charm he had ever casted. It was necessary. Harry didn't want any muggles stumbling into the crossfire. Now, muggles are prevented from seeing or wandering inside the area.

Thank goodness Fujimura had forgotten to buy something and was out shopping right now.

"Good evening, Illya," Harry greeted with a smile to the little girl standing behind Berserker.

Illya smiled back at him. "Hey Harry! How's it going?"

"it was fine until you activated my alert ward," Harry said conversationally. Berserker had stopped attacking for now and was standing back perfectly straight, like an immovable pillar.

"I'm getting some distance between me and Berserker. Don't die." Archer jumped backwards. A small cloud of dust rose up the ground he had been standing on.

Harry turned around. He could distinctly see a form leaping from building to building, already a couple hundred feet away and gaining more distance.

Harry wasn't ashamed at all to say that he would've preferred to be with Archer right now instead of standing in front of the behemoth of madness and strength.

"Aren't you happy to see me, Harry?" Illya pouted.

"That depends. Will you be attacking us tonight?" Harry's mind raced as he spoke. He hadn't expected this at all.

"Yup," Illya confirmed cheerfully. "Don't worry, though. I won't be killing you. I'll just beat you up a bit, then make you my servant."

"I'm already Shirou's Servant," Harry reminded her.

Ilya shook her head. "Not that type of Servant. An actual servant that will serve me."

Harry paused. "Oh. Okay. Well, I can't really allow that. I don't really want to be anyone's servant, you see."

"You're Onii-chan's Servant," Illya frowned cutely.

"I'm his Servant, but not his servant. My official title-" technically "- is a Servant. However, that does not mean I act like a servant."

Somehow, Illya understood that mess of a sentence, judging from the look of comprehension on her face. "I see. Well, you don't have a choice in the matter. Berserker, get him."

At least that was marginally better than last time, when Illya had said "Berserker, kill him."

Berserker turned his gaze to Harry. His angry visage became downright terrifying. His rage-filled eyes recognized Harry.

No, not just that. Given how Berserker let out a roar that shook the foundations of the compound itself and charged at Harry with a burning passion, Harry would say that Berserker remembered Harry- more specifically, he remembered what Harry had done.

And, from the looks of it, it appeared that Berserker was still furious about Harry's. . . attack.

Harry stood his ground, not moving an inch even as Berserker neared.

When Berserker was within striking distance of Harry, he cut sideways- and was intercepted by Saber.

"Berserker, I am your opponent," Saber calmly stated as she struggled to hold back Berserker's sword. Harry saw her arms trembling somewhat. He had to end this quickly.

Harry Disapparated about 10 feet backwards. His wand was already spinning in his hand, and his concentration was fully devoted to looking for openings.

"What are you holding?" Illya questioned.

Berserker's head moved a fraction of an inch, turning to look at Harry's hand as well, but Saber took that nanosecond to jump upward to deliver a slash that would've taken off Berserker's head if it landed.

If it landed. Berserker bent back- seriously, it shouldn't be possible for a mini-giant to be that flexible- and used his momentum to kick upward, backflipping in place.

Saber was forced to step back to avoid Berserker's foot. She shot forward again, sword held to the side. She sliced at Berserker who met her sword with his own. They struggled for dominance, blades locked together.

Now was his chance.

Harry increased the air resistance around Berserker by a hundredfold, the air becoming tremendously thick. Even before the charm was complete, Harry Apparated directly behind Berserker, wand blurring in his hand as he went through all of the wand motions. Magic was gathered, shaped, layered and compressed all in a fraction of a second.

"Avada Kedavra!" Harry roared, his green eyes cold and detached, all traces of warmth absent.

Harry's wand shuddered as the green light burst out faster than the speed of sound mere inches from Berserker's skin.

Berserker once again showcased why he was the first-class warrior. His godlike reaction time allowed him to already begin dodging and counter attacking the moment Harry appeared behind him and casted the spell, but the distance was too short and the air resistance was too much.

Simply put, Berserker was too slow to avoid the green light.

Berserker collapsed, slowly falling to the ground. Harry canceled the charm, returning the air to normal, causing Berserker's body to speed up through the air suddenly, crashing into the ground with a thud.

Berserker's red eyes dimmed to darkness.

Moment of truth. Berserker was dead, but would he stay dead? Did Berserker have regeneration or resurrection?

"What did you just do?!" Illya screamed.

Harry's expression returning to normal. He has been told before that whenever he was truly serious, his eyes promised death.

He didn't enjoy wearing that expression. That expression belonged to the man who fought in the war against Voldemort.

Harry didn't want to become that man again.

"This," Harry said, holding up his wand, "is a wand." The wand was hot to the touch. The core had undoubtedly sustained damage. "What I just did was cast the Killing Curse. Berserker's dead, Illya. Surrender."

"Surrender?" Illya narrowed her eyes. "You didn't defeat Berserker. Berserker's strong, way stronger than you. No 'Killing Curse' is enough to keep him down. Berserker!"

The light returned to Berserker's eyes, a fiery red that glowed in the darkness. He let out a fearsome roar-

Harry Apparated directly on top of Berserker's face and cast a point-blank Fiendfyre spell. He Disapparated the moment the spell had left his wand. Fiendfyre was extremely destructive, and it was recommended to not stay around it longer than you had to.

A dark flame roared to life where the spell had hit Berserker. It increased in size until it enveloped Berserker's entire body. Berserker let out an ungodly roar as he began writhing around, the dark flames of Fiendfyre melting his flesh.

He grabbed his head. His eyes were closed for once, scrunched up in pain. Harry frowned. This wasn't a normal reaction to Fiendfyre. Berserker should be hurting all over, so why was he grabbing his head?

Unless his head didn't hurt physically but rather mentally. With a start, Harry remembered his journey into Berserker's head. Heracles had died from being burned alive on a pyre.

Heracles had died from being burned alive on a pyre.

Heracles was reliving his death right now. He was literally reliving his death right now.

"Berserker!" Illya screamed. "Berserker, get up! Ignore the flames! Get up!" For the first time since Harry had met her, Illya seemed fearful. Scared of something.

Or perhaps she was scared for someone.

Berserker's skin bubbled from the heat. The dark flames formed the distinct shape of a phoenix that tore through Berserker's body. Flesh was being burned away. A slight sizzling sound could be hurt and slivers of bone could be seen. There was a slight red haze over Berserker- his blood had evaporated into steam.

"It's useless, Illya," Harry commented. "Fiendfyre is the most destructive flame I know." Harry glanced down at his wand. Its internal temperature was increasing by the second, and holding it was starting to hurt.

Harry sighed. "Thank you," he whispered. "You've done great. Rest now." The wand hummed in his hand, pulsating once comfortingly. Then the core burned up. The wand dissolved into ashes that were quickly blown away by the wind.

"Even if Berserker is constantly reviving, it's useless," Harry repeated. "Fiendfyre will continue to burn and destroy until its target has been utterly annihilated. It doesn't matter how many times Berserker revives; unless the Fiendfyre is extinguished, he will continue to die over and over again. You've lost."

Without access to magic, the only way for them to extinguish the Fiendfyre is by killing Harry. But Harry wasn't going to die that easily.

Saber walked over to Harry's side. "Your wand burned up?"

"Yeah," Harry said sadly. "I pushed it to the limit. It did its job well."

Saber regarded the still-burning body of Berserker. "It certainly did."

Harry could see Berserker regenerating, but the newly healed flesh was burned the moment it formed. It was a cycle that didn't seem to be stopping.

How many revives did Berserker have?

Berserker let out another roar of pain. Harry didn't blame him. Being burned alive by the dark flames must hurt. Especially coupled with the psychological torment he must be going through.

"Berserker!" Illya began running towards Berserker.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Harry shouted, quickly Apparating in front of Illya's path, stopping her in her tracks. "Why on earth would you run towards Fiendfyre?"

"You can't- not again- get out of my way-" Illya abruptly regained her composure. A small smile made it onto her face. "Harry Potter. You have not won yet. You have not beaten Berserker. Because Berserker is strong."

"Harry!" Saber yelled in warning.

Harry whirled around. Berserker was standing upright, back perfectly straight. Harry gaped. The dark flames of Fiendfyre still danced across the surface of Berserker's skin, but Berserker was completely unharmed. His body had been completely healed, and Fiendfyre seemed to have no effect whatsoever.

What the hell?!

Berserker roared, no longer a roar of pain but rather a roar of fury, and slammed his axe-sword down onto the spot where Harry had been standing. Next to Saber, Harry exited the Apparition with his eyes firmly fixed on Berserker.

"How is he able to resist Fiendfyre?!" This shouldn't be possible. The only beings known to be immune to Fiendfyre were Drakons. Even dragons couldn't do a thing against the dark flames.

"Berserker, I knew you would be okay," Illya smiled up at him. She turned her gaze towards Saber and Harry, a smug smile on her lips. "

"Saber?" Harry kept his eyes on Berserker.

"Yes?" Saber held up her sword in front of her, perfectly centered so she could respond quickly to attacks from any direction.

"I know you won't like it, but. . ." Harry trailed off.

"Let me hazard a guess. You wish for us to retreat, correct?" Saber wasn't looking at Harry when she spoke, but Harry could hear the disapproval in her voice.

"I'm without a wand, and we're fighting against someone with the constitution and resistance of a. . . I don't even have a comparison! How is Berserker able to do this?!" He directed the last part towards Illya, who was watching their conversation with undisguised glee.

Illya smiled. "You've already lost, so I'll tell you the secret. Berserker's Noble Phantasm is God Hand. It allows Berserker to gain an immunity to any attack he's already experienced before. After being subjected to your Fiendfyre so many times, he's completely immune by now."

"Bullshit!" was Harry's instantaneous response. "What sort of broken technique is that?!"

"Says the Sorcerer who can teleport away from any attack," Illya shot back.

"There are ways to counter Apparition! How the hell am I supposed to counter someone who literally can't be killed?!" Harry took a single deep breath to restore his mental state to optimal conditions. He breathed out slowly. "Saber, any ideas?"

"We kill him until he cannot revive himself anymore," Saber stepped forward. "There is no way for Heracles to possess infinite revivals. It is likely that he only possesses 12 lives, one for each Labor he had performed while alive."

There's no way that's correct. What do Heracles' Labors have to do with the amount of revivals he possesses? There's no correlation whatsoever. It had to be something else-

"I'm surprised," Illya breathed. "You're correct, Saber. Heracles has 12 lives total, but he's already used up several of them."

. . . Saber was correct? Noble Phantasms, Harry decided, made no sense. How does Heracles's Labors even remotely correlate to the amount of lives he has?

"You think we can kill Berserker multiple times again?" Harry gestured to the immobile form of Berserker still staring down at them. Thankfully, Berserker hadn't attacked yet. He was just standing there, the Fiendfyre trying and failing to incinerate Berserker's flesh. "There's no way."

Harry waved his hand, causing the dark flames to go out. There's no point in maintaining the Fiendfyre if it wasn't going to do anything. It's just a waste of energy at this point.

"No. This is winnable," Saber declared before rushing towards Berserker, sword raised.

Damnit! Why won't she quit? Was her knight's code that important to her? A fine balance needed to be kept between honor and self-preservation. For Saber, the balance seemed to be heavily skewed towards the honor side. Why won't she ever give up-

Give up.

Give up. The full meaning of the words slammed into Harry at that moment.

Harry froze. What was he thinking? Saber wasn't giving up, and he was. Why was he giving up? Has he changed that much?

Harry remembered a time when, against everyone's objections, he never stopped believing and never stopped fighting. He remembered a time when all hope was lost and victory was impossible, he stayed and fought and overcame all odds and won.

Where was that Harry? Where was the Harry that had the guts to never give up?

He's Harry Potter, damnit! Dumbledore's Apprentice and Prodigy of Hogwarts! He killed the greatest Dark Lord in all of history. He wasn't going to run away, he wasn't going to quit.

Berserker had already tried to kill Harry and his friends. He tried to hurt Harry's friends.

And Harry was going to run away from him? Run away while Saber fought Berserker, their blades clashing and shockwaves being released from every impact?

Berserker twisted his body to avoid a stab, converting the momentum of the spin into a vicious backslice. Saber barely managed to block it, skidding back from the force.

Harry sighed. He really shouldn't be doing this. In fact, every rational thought is telling him not to, to just retreat and regroup for another day, to create another plan to deal with Berserker.

But that wouldn't accomplish anything. Harry would still be rooted in place, not changing anything.

Harry needs to stop thinking about failure. The outcome won't change- there's no way Berserker can kill him with Harry's Fading- so for now, Harry should just keep on moving forward.

There are times when you just have to stop thinking and start doing.

Saber blinked as Berserker's axe-sword didn't make contact with her blade already positioned to block the strike. "What?"

Something else had intercepted the sword. Harry wished with all his might that he could say it wasn't him.

It was him.

"This is rather odd," Harry commented, holding back Berserker's sword with one hand. "I would've thought that your weapon, much like yourself, would be enchanted against spells and charms."

Most weapons and armor are enchanted to be resistant against spells and charms. It would've been incredibly embarrassing if someone had Vanished Godric Gryffindor's sword while he was in battle, or charmed his armor to weigh a ton.

Saber's sword gave off that aura, that sense that using magic on it simply wouldn't work, whether because of intricate spellwork, elaborate runes, or an inherent magical resistance. Lancer's spear had been the same, which is why Harry hadn't even tried.

Berserker's axe-sword-club monstrosity, on the other hand, had no such aura. Harry initially thought it was because the spells or runes on it were so good, they masked their own presence from detection.

But Illya's statement got him thinking. Berserker's Noble Phantasm was God Hand. Berserker's ugly deformed sword definitely did not deserve the name "God Hand." Thus, Berserker's sword was probably not his Noble Phantasm.

If it wasn't a Noble Phantasm, then there was a chance that Berserker's axe-sword wasn't magical at all, but instead was a normal sword- albeit a highly impractical one.

And if that was the case, then while Harry's spells won't work on Berserker due to his God Hand and magical resistance, it would certainly work on his weapon.

Harry's hypothesis was proven correct when he was able to disperse the momentum of the sword and slow it down to a stop, allowing him to block the sword with a single hand reinforced with magic.

Of course, if it hadn't worked, then Harry would've just Faded out. Risk was minimal. He wasn't that stupid to go in without a backup plan.

"But it appears to be a normal Muggle weapon," Harry continued. "Against normal people who can't utilize magic, it would be incredibly deadly. But against a wi-Sorcerer, you might as well be waving around a harmless foam sword."

In this world, Harry wasn't a wizard. He was a Sorcerer. Might as well use the local terminology.

Berserker's foot streaked towards Harry's head but Harry was already gone, Apparating both himself and Saber out.

"Have you come to your senses?" Saber rematerialized chunks of her armor where it had been scraped off.

"Giving up. . . running away. . . to tell you the truth, I don't know what I was thinking," Harry smiled. "Come on, let's end this."

Saber returned his smile with one of her own, a smile that seemed to inspire hope- a smile of a king. "It's good to have you back, Harry."

Harry quickly assessed the situation. He was useless against Berserker. Archer couldn't do a thing. Shirou and Rin would be crushed. The only one that could really do anything against Berserker was Saber, and even then, would she have enough mana to pull off her Excalibur's attack? Harry doubted it.

There was only one viable way for them to win with a high chance of success and a low chance of death. Harry's gaze landed on Illya.

Harry felt like a rat bastard for even thinking about it, but. . . well, Illya had already taken Shirou and Rin hostage once. He would just be doing the same thing to her.

Illya locked eyes with Harry. Her eyes widened. "Don't you dare," she said threateningly.

Berserker looked to see what Harry was looking at. Harry knew the moment Berserker realized what Harry was intending because of the sudden protective aura pushing down on Harry. The hair on the back of Harry's neck rose up as he felt the sheer will to protect fill up the air.

Berserker growled in warning, planting his axe-sword in the ground and crossing his arms. An immovable pillar of pure force. The message sent was clear.

You shall not pass.

"I apologize, but it appears to be the only thing I can do that has a chance of succeeding" Harry truly didn't want to employ such tactics. But if he had to, he would.

Saber turned questioningly towards Harry. "What do you mean-" She saw who Harry was looking at.

"No." Saber's refusal was resolute and steadfirm.

"It's our only chance," Harry tried to convince her.

"No," Saber repeated. "I will not stoop to such levels."

"But-"

"Berserker is our opponent here. We shall win by killing the Servant," Saber narrowed her eyes, "and not the Master."

Harry blinked. "Who said anything about killing her?"

Saber knit her brows together. "What do you mean then?"

"Well, umm. . . I was planning on forcing her to use a Command Seal to stop Berserker, or something," Harry scratched his head. "Why do you guys always jump to the most extreme conclusion?"

Saber ignored that question. "Nevertheless, it would not be winning through honorable means. Besides, we have to get past him to get to Illyasviel."

She pointed with her Invisible Air at Berserker, who actually seemed to have lost a lot of his rage, and was instead looking down at them with a steely gaze. Did Berserker lose some of his madness because Harry had threatened his Master? Were Berserker's protective instincts enough to overpower his madness? Interesting.

Harry smiled. "Have you forgotten? What good is an impenetrable defense. . ."

Berserker whirled around, ripping the sword from the ground and slamming it down behind him, a loud BOOM exploding out as the sound barrier was broken, but it was too late.

". . . when you don't have to penetrate it?" Harry finished, reappearing next to Saber with Illya by his side. His left hand was on Illya's shoulder, granting the necessary contact for a Side-along Apparition.

Illya broke free within an instant, silvery white wires materializing into existence around her, forming into a large sword that hovered in the air- which promptly crumpled into itself when Harry simply reached out his hand and shot a Stunning spell into her chest.

Illya let out a quiet gasp before collapsing, all the tension leaving her body as if she was a puppet with its strings cut.

Victory was-

Harry's instinct screamed out at him. He reacted instantly- and even then, it was almost too slow.

Harry Faded out of Reality, the axe-sword passing through his head. A massive gust of wind blew out from the strike, blowing Saber off her feet. She flew through the air, spinning so that she would land on her feet on the compound wall.

A moment later, the shockwaves from Berserker's initial lunge reached the ground beneath Harry, cracking it, the tremors undoubtedly reaching deep into the ground. The sound of Berserker's roar finally reached Harry's position. It was a roar filled not with rage but rather the intent to protect.

Astonished, Harry could only stare dumbly through his magical eyes. Strands of white hair fluttered down to the ground. Harry had Faded just in time. Any slower, and his head would be crashing down to the ground as well.

Berserker's speed had just surpassed what should've been possible. He had crossed the distance separating him and Harry in the blink of an eye, and his sword swing had been even faster.

Berserker scooped up Illya in his massive arm. Her head began slumping down to the ground, but Berserker readjusted her so that her head would be supported. Berserker tried to bisect Harry once more, but the axe-sword passed harmlessly through Harry's image.

Berserker gave up, instead leaping straight up into the air. Harry watched him rise into the air, the moon illuminating Berserker's gigantic frame. He absently calculated the angles. Berserker would land well outside the compound walls.

Berserker was retreating, then. Clearly, he wasn't going to risk Illya being harmed by Harry. Berserker reached the peak of his jump and began to drop back to the ground- when a barrage of red arrows came out of nowhere, aimed to pierce the airborne target.

Archer- that bastard! Was he trying to kill Illya as well?

Berserker twisted his body in midair, shielding Illya's small form entirely. The arrows slammed into his back, dealing no damage. Then one single arrow, filled to the brim with magical energy, streaked towards Berserker.

That was the same explosive arrow Archer had fired before. Berserker couldn't possibly tank the damage with his body like normal because the explosion would slam him into Illya.

Berserker had extremely dense muscles that were harder than steel. Illya was a little girl. Not a great combination. If the force of the explosion knocked Berserker into Illya, then Illya's bones would probably be broken and her brain concussed, with death being a real possibility.

If Berserker made no signs of changing his defensive strategy, then Harry would have to Apparate in and extract Illya. There were times where killing was necessary. This was not one of those times.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief when Berserker hurled his axe-sword at the arrow with perfect accuracy, intercepting it. Berserker's battle instincts were, as usual, top-notch and on point.

The resulting explosion looked like a firework. A very lethal firework. The smoke cleared, revealing Berserker once again taking no damage, Illya held safely in his arm.

There was one critical difference, however. Berserker was no longer going to land outside the compound walls. Instead, he was going to land in the clearing.

Archer had shot the explosive arrow not with the intent to kill but rather with the intent to alter Berserker's path and prevent his retreat.

Harry smiled. Although Archer probably didn't know it, he just saved Harry a lot of trouble. If Berserker was retreating, then Harry would have to chase after Berserker, which would inevitably result in a mobile fight all around the city where people could get hurt.

The fight against Berserker was going to end tonight. Harry will make sure of it.

Harry Faded back into Reality and stomped his foot on the uneven cracked ground. Dirt rose up to form an oversized needle-shaped structure at the spot where Berserker would land, the point sharp and ready. Then, for good measure, Harry transfigured the dirt into iron then charmed it unbreakable.

Harry honestly didn't think it would do any damage, but he had to try.

Come to think of it, this was the second time tonight Harry had watched someone fall to the ground, Lancer being the first. Harry hoped this wouldn't become a habit.

Harry distractedly cast a sticking charm on his shoes so that the shockwave from Berserker's impact wouldn't knock him off his feet. That would be pretty embarrassing.

He watched Berserker crash into the ground, sending dust up everywhere. The ground cracked even more.

Saber rapidly darted back to Harry's side. Her muscles were tense and Harry could see beads of sweat on her skin. She was laser focused on Berserker, who was still obscured by the dust cloud.

They couldn't see a single thing within the dust cloud other than Berserker's vague outline. Harry sent a large gust of wind to clear the dust.

When the dust cleared, Harry saw Berserker standing on his feet. In his arms, Illya was thankfully untouched and was still sleeping peacefully. Harry's gaze traveled downward- then froze in place.

The iron needle stood with all its glory, stabbing straight up into the region right between Berserker's legs.

There was silence for a moment. Pure, unadulterated silence.

"I am really. Really. Really sorry about that," Harry winced. That was not supposed to happen. That was not supposed to happen.

Berserker looked down. Stared at the unbreakable oversized iron needle still jabbing into his flesh. Then he looked back at Harry, an almost confused expression on his face.

". . . I didn't expect you to land on your feet. In fact, I fully expected you to dodge that. A mistake, in retrospect," Harry futilely tried to explain, but there really weren't any excuses that could be made.

For once, Berserker didn't seem angry. His face was serene, and his eyes which had been clouded with rage before cleared to reveal tranquil pools of redness.

Harry suddenly felt fear again. He could deal with a mad Berserker. A calm Berserker, on the other hand. . .

"Umm, let me just. . ." Harry canceled the transfiguration and unbreakable charm, then canceled the sticking charm on his shoes as an afterthought. The iron needle reverted to dirt which then fell down, filling up the cracks in the ground.

There were two explanations to Berserker's sudden tranquility that Harry could think of. The first explanation was: being stabbed there had shocked Berserker into rationality and peacefulness.

The second explanation was that Berserker had transcended normal rage and was in a higher level of absolute fury.

The really scary thing was that Harry couldn't tell. Berserker wasn't showing any emotions at all. He could be genuinely calm right now, or he could be about to go onto a killing spree.

"Now, before you do something you might regret," Harry held his hands out in front of him in an effort to prevent Berserker from rampaging, "I'd like to remind you that you're holding Illya in your arms. Which means that if you fight, you run the risk of her getting hurt."

Berserker didn't react to Harry's words at all. He just stared serenely down at Harry like a monk that has achieved nirvana.

Saber cautiously walked towards Berserker, wary of any sudden attacks. Berserker's eyes didn't even flicker; they remained fixed on Harry.

". . . okay, this is becoming pretty creepy. Can you, like, roar if you're okay?" Harry asked. The intensity of Berserker's stare was getting to him.

Berserker silently turned around and began walking away. His entire body language told Harry that Berserker was done.

In a blur of speed, Saber moved to block Berserker's path. "Do not presume that you may leave."

Berserker didn't even spare her a single glance. His pace remained the same, and he showed no signs of slowing down.

Saber would probably have been bulldozed over if it hadn't been for Illya stirring in Berserker's arm. "Mmm. . ." she sleepily mumbled out. "Why won't you come back?"

Harry froze at Illya's heartbroken tone, filled anguish and pain. What was she talking about? Who won't come back?

Berserker stopped and looked down at Illya. He shook her gently. A deep purring noise came out of his throat, soft and comforting.

Harry blinked. What the hell? Although when he really thought about it, it made sense.

Heracles had been a father once, after all.

"Berserker?" Illya rubbed her eyes. She drowsily looked around the clearing. Alertness returned to her at once when she caught sight of Saber and Harry. She jolted from Berserker's arms. Berserker released her and she fell to the ground, landing softly.

"What did you do to me?" Illya examined herself for any harm.

"I hit you with a Stunning spell," Harry said, grateful for any distraction from Berserker's empty gaze. "Don't worry, it has no lasting effects. All it does is it knocks you unconscious for a while."

A very short while, in Illya's case. Harry's wandless Stunning spell was weak, yes, but she should've still been out for at least an hour. How had she awoken in less than 10 minutes? Her magic must be strong, extraordinarily so, for her to recover so quickly.

Satisfied that there wasn't anything wrong with her, Illya glared at Harry. "That was a cheap shot." Silver wires formed in the air, creating birds that flew around her. No doubt countermeasures for if Harry decided to Apparate next to her again.

"It really was," Saber agreed.

Harry shrugged wordlessly. He didn't have anything to say in his defense because he agreed with every word they said. Instead, he tried to change the subject. "You have a very good Servant, Illya. He recovered you from me the literal second you were knocked out."

Illya grinned. "Berserker is the best, isn't he?"

Berserker inclined his head in agreement, red eyes still locked with Harry's green ones. Harry held back a flinch. In the psychological warfare department, Berserker was winning by far.

Illya frowned. "What happened while I was unconscious? Why is Berserker so. . . calm?"

Harry did flinch from that. "We had a minor altercation."

Berserker roared, a blast of unholy sound slamming into Harry, his hair being swept back and his cloak billowing from the force.

"Okay," amended Harry. "It was a pretty major altercation."

"Do I even want to know?"

"No. No you don't," Harry confirmed. "Some things are better left unsaid."

Thankfully, Illya dropped the issue, her frown melting away into a smile. "Whatever. It doesn't matter, since you'll be defeated tonight. You should've just accepted my offer of being my servant."

Harry shook his head. "I'm afraid the only one being defeated here tonight is going to be Berserker."

Illya hesitated. "You didn't have to hit me with a Stunning spell. You could've killed me there. You should've killed me there. Why didn't you?"

"Haven't I told you before? I have no intentions on killing you. I don't want to fight you, Illya." And that was the truth.

In this War, Harry just wanted to save people who don't have the power to save themselves. Protect the innocents, vanquish evil. Fighting others should only be used as a last resort when diplomacy has failed.

To be honest, against Illya and Berserker, Harry should've abandoned diplomacy a long time ago, but Harry didn't want to. Illya was just a kid. A kid that was trapped in the darkness. And it was Harry's job to be the light that shines through the darkness. If she wanted to, Illya could do lots and lots of good in the world. Harry just had to guide her the right way.

Illya shook her head. "Harry Potter. You make no sense."

"Why are you fighting?" Harry asked. "What wish could you possibly have?"

If it was within Harry's power, then he would grant it. Maybe then she won't have to fight anymore. Assuming, of course, that the wish doesn't go against Harry's morals.

"Wish?" Illya's eyes unfocused. "The wish has nothing to do with it. The Einzbern's goal is to recover the lost Magic. I have to fight. It's my duty. I have to win. I have to win."

What on earth was the lost Magic she was talking about-

"Oh, and I also want to kill Onii-chan," Illya smiled sweetly.

Wait.

What?

Harry's thoughts abruptly screeched to a halt. "I'm sorry?"

"I said, I want to kill Onii-chan," Illya tilted her head to the side. "Where is he anyways? I wanted to say hi to him tonight before Berserker cut off his head."

Harry stared at her, immensely disturbed. Although that was a good question. Where was Shirou and Rin? Harry released a magic pulse.

Rin and Shirou were still inside the dojo. They were crouching beneath the windows, observing the battle outside through a small mirror held in Rin's left hand. Shirou appeared to be gesturing wildly to a baffled Rin.

Harry glanced at Saber, who also had a clueless expression that must've mirrored his own.

"When you say 'Onii-chan,'" Harry hesitantly began, "You mean Emiya Shirou, correct?"

Illya nodded brightly. "Yup!"

"Right. . ." Harry was at a rare loss for words. Thankfully, Saber took over the questioning, walking over to stand next to Harry again. Berserker, once again, kept his eyes firmly on Harry, only flickering to Saber once to be sure that she wasn't doing anything nefarious. Harry scoffed. Saber doing something dishonorable? Unthinkable.

"Why do you wish to slay Shirou?" Saber inquired.

Illya's face darkened. Anger, hatred, pain. Harry's heart throbbed as he saw hatred on her face that no child should have. "Because I hate Onii-chan."

The sliding door leading out to the clearing slammed open. Shirou stepped out, a confused expression on his face. Behind him, Rin was holding out her hand, as if she had tried to stop him but failed.

"You hate. . . me?" Behind Shirou, Rin facepalmed before rushing out as well, jewels clutched in her hands.

On one hand, Harry agreed with Rin's sentiment. Rushing out to ask a question was a pretty foolish thing to do. On the other hand, he couldn't exactly fault Shirou for coming out.

Illya smiled at Shirou with the same expression on her face. She looked unhinged. Harry suddenly felt an intense worry for her mental stability. "Onii-chan, there you are! I was getting worried that I wouldn't see you die tonight."

"I don't even know who you are!" Shirou protested. "I've never even met you before the other night at the church!"

"You took him away from me! I'll never forgive you for that!" Illya's face twisted, a deranged scowl that marred her cute features. "Berserker, kill him!"

On the bright side, Berserker finally broke eye contact with Harry. On the not so bright side, Berserker's newfound calm dissipated and all of Berserker's fury and rage returned with a vengeance- only this time, it was directed towards Shirou.

Berserker's sudden shift from targets caught Saber off guard. She tried to intercept Berserker but was too slow. She wouldn't make it in time.

Berserker unleashed a devastating swipe aimed at Shirou's head that would take it right off and then some.

Harry didn't move. He waited.

Just waited.

Rin threw a jewel that shattered above Berserker. Blue light formed a barrier around Berserker as a force crushed down upon him. Berserker was restrained for only a few seconds before he broke free, but that time allowed Saber to catch up and engage in battle with Berserker, rapid blows being exchanged between them.

"Shirou, come on! This is why you don't rush out during a fight between Servants! Idiot!" Rin grabbed Shirou's hand, pulling him away from the fight.

Harry noticed that Saber's attack style had changed. Her blows were less powerful but a lot quicker. She spun in midair parallel to the ground, her sword striking down at Berserker's head. He sidestepped completely and swung his axe-sword at her side, but she twisted, grabbing the blunt edge and swinging herself over it in a one-handed handstand.

Her foot slammed into Berserker's face who took it without even blinking. Not pausing at all, Saber pushed off her hand, shifting herself upright, getting in extremely close range with Berserker in the process, her sword aimed at Berserker's throat.

Berserker stomped on the ground, launching himself up, his knee driving into Saber's hastily-drawn block with her sword. She was pushed back a solid 10 feet, a trail of dust floating up from where she had dug her feet into the ground to stop herself.

Berserker was in front of her in an instant. Yet another crushing blow was delivered. Before, Saber would have met it head on with her own blade. Now, Saber merely angled her sword, causing Berserker's axe-sword to deflect off of it, barely missing Saber's head by an inch.

She was learning, Harry realized. She was adapting, changing her fighting style, improving her counters. The more she fought, the better she became again.

No, not just that. She was finally getting used to the decreased air resistance and increased maneuverability, and was taking full advantage of it.

She was altering her entire fighting style midfight. Harry was once again awed by the sheer skill and expertise she displayed. Saber was a beast.

Harry watched Saber pull off several flips that shouldn't be possible according to the muggles' laws of physics. Harry scoffed. Laws.

Berserker couldn't seem to be able to hit her. Saber was simply too fast.

And even as all of this happened, Harry waited, focused his gaze on Illya. Her smug expression was back, but she wasn't fooling Harry anymore. Illya was hurting badly. She hid it well with a smile, but there was a deep pain in her heart.

Just who had left her? Who had Shirou taken away from her?

Her expression, so filled with pain and sorrow and hatred, had hit Harry hard. It made Harry want to help her. Heal her. Ensure that it never appears on her face again.

After all, it had been on his own face following Sirius's death.

Harry knew all too well the pain of having a broken heart. When Sirius died, Harry threw himself headfirst into reckless training. He had needed to get stronger. Strong enough so that nobody else would die again.

And he did get stronger. But as he did, he lost something precious to him. With the risks Harry took and the things Harry did and the complete utter apathy Harry had, it wasn't a surprise to Harry when people started calling him a monster.

Caution and patience and diplomacy and compassion and kindness had left him. He killed and killed and killed. He didn't care if he died in the process. His only purpose, only goal in life was to completely annihilate Voldemort and his Death eaters.

Harry had closed off his heart. He became a machine, mechanically going through life. He had been completely detached.

But seeking vengeance hadn't done anything. It only numbed the pain. It is an unfortunate fact of life that numbing the pain for a while would only make it worse when you finally feel it.

And, months after Sirius had died, Harry had finally felt it. And with the pain and agony and sadness came all the emotions Harry had locked away when he was on his killing spree. And it hurt. So. Damn. Bad.

People had called him a monster. They were wrong. Monsters don't feel remorse. Harry had felt a remorse that cut so deep into him, it destroyed all the barriers he erected around his heart, exposing the gaping hole.

A heart that let nothing in will become empty, a shell of its former self. For Harry, the hole in his heart was filled by the others around him.

Ron, Hermione, Luna, Dumbledore. . . they had been there for him. And now it's Harry's turn to be there for someone else.

It is a well known fact that there is a cycle of hatred and enmity in the world. When one person harms and kills others, resentment is born. That resentment makes a person kill again, hurt again, cause others pain again, resulting in an endless, vicious cycle.

And there is only one way to sever that cycle.

Which means. . . he has only one option left to take.

Saber landed a three-hit combo on Berserker's torso- three horizontal slices that left no wounds. She quickly darted away from Berserker's enraged swing. Her feet barely touched the ground as she weaved through all of Berserker's attack.

"Enough." Harry's voice, layered with bass undertones, reverberated through the clearing. Berserker and Saber disengaged, both leaping back and cautiously regarding each other while observing Harry in the corner of their eyes.

"What is it?" Illya tensed up. The birds which had been flying around Illya stopped, turning to face Harry, hovering menacingly in the air. Did she think he would Apparate next to her again? No matter.

Harry smiled, brushing his hand through his white hair. A small breeze blew through the clearing, sending Harry's cloak billowing. The silver moon shone behind Harry, casting a soft glow on his white cloak.

"I changed my mind. Illyasviel von Einzbern, I'll be your servant."

There was silence at Harry's declaration for a moment. He could sense Rin and Shirou staring incredulously at him.

Illya blinked. "Wait, seriously?"

"What?! Harry, you can't!" Saber shouted, whirling around and glaring at Harry. "What are you saying?"

Harry's smile turned sad. But there was a hint of determination in there. "I'm thinking. . . about severing the cycle."

The only way to sever the cycle of hatred isn't through violence. It isn't through politics or money or fighting.

It's through kindness.

The best way to defeat an enemy, after all, is by making him your friend.

Harry spun in place, Apparating a good 5 feet away from Illya. The birds automatically flew towards him, extending into small spear-shaped light, but Illya held up her hands and they paused in midair.

Harry was correct. An automatic defense set to activate whenever someone entered the proximity. One of the best ways to counter Apparition- although this particular counter wasn't the best, since it was too slow. An AOE field would've been a lot more effective.

"So, what do you say?" Harry held out his right hand. "Do you accept?"

Illya hesitated. "You. . . do you promise? To be a good servant? To not betray me?"

She sounded like a young child, asking for reassurances that there wasn't a monster in the dark. It was so innocent, yet there was an unmistakable undertone in the message.

Someone has betrayed me in the past. Will you do the same to me?

"I promise. I give you my word. And one thing you should know about me is that," and, for added emphasis, Harry flared out his magic. A dense pressure set down over the clearing, but it wasn't an oppressive one. Rather, it was the condensed will Harry possessed- all of his morals and honor and chivalry expressed through his magic. "I never go back on my word."

Harry doesn't make promises often. But when he does make a promise, he'll do everything in his power to never break it.

Because if Harry did break his promises when he could've kept them, then he wouldn't be losing something precious to him. He would be outright throwing it away.

Whatever you lose, you'll find it again. But what you throw away, you'll never get it back.

Harry wasn't willing to throw that away. Not now.

Not ever.

Illya stared at Harry, wide-eyed. "Why? I tried to kill you. I tried to kill your friends. You should hate me. You should want to kill me. Why?"

Harry inwardly groaned. This again? How many times does he need to state his reasons? "Why? Because I don't want to, that's why."

Was it really so hard for Illya to understand that? To understand that her life is precious? Although, if Illya was constantly surrounded by pain and betrayal and darkness, then it's likely any form of kindness and compassion would be alien to her.

Harry will make damn sure they become as familiar to her as the back of her hand.

Illya gazed into Harry's green eyes. For a moment, Harry saw a vulnerable expression on her face. But there was something else in there.

Hope.

Then it passed, and a smile was back on Illya's face. "Harry Potter. You are just so strange." She walked forwards, birds still fluttering around her, until she stood directly in front of Harry. Berserker gave a low growl of warning.

"But I don't mind," Illya reached out her own hand before faltering. "You promise?"

Harry smiled. "Always."

Illya nodded. She took Harry's outstretched hand. Her hand was warm. "It's decided then. Harry Potter, you are now my servant."

There was no bright flash of light or a pulse of power. But the power of the words were undeniable anyways.

Words were, after all, the most inextinguishable source of magic, able to change reality itself. And promises were the strongest of them all.

"What happened to not wanting to be a servant for anyone?" Saber threw a vicious glare at Harry.

Oh bloody hell, she was mad. Her icy glare seemed to lower the temperature of the clearing by 10 degrees.

Harry shrugged. It wasn't easy to explain.

But he had gone through the pain and had been in the darkness once before. And he doesn't want anyone else to experience it.

If it meant Harry had to allow Illya to have a modicum of control over him, then he'll gladly do it. He's willing to sacrifice a bit of his free will in exchange for pulling Illya out of the darkness. And he's willing to sacrifice even more.

This goes beyond his saving people thing. When he saves innocents and protects the weak, he does it because it's the right thing to do.

With Illya, Harry's doing it because it's personal. He genuinely wants- no, he needs to do it.

Maybe it was selfish of him. But Harry didn't care.

"I mean, being Illya's servant wouldn't be too bad," Harry released the charms on Saber. The air resistance and physics governing her motions returned to normal. "Besides, I have something important to do."

Shirou took a few hesitant steps forward. "What do you mean? Are you. . . leaving us?"

Illya laughed. "Of course he is! I'm a much better master than you are." She twirled around, arms out to the side. "You just lost your Sorcerer! Ha! How does it feel?"

"I'm doing what must be done," Harry locked eyes with Shirou. "You understand, don't you? When you're saving someone, the thing you're saving them from isn't always physical or material."

Shirou's eyes widened. His gaze shifted to Illya, who had a smug grin on her face and seemed to be oblivious to Harry's words.

Saber narrowed her eyes. "The only problem here is that she is the enemy."

"And who decides she's the enemy?" Harry spread his hands out to the side. "The Grail? The Holy Grail, which can allegedly grant any wish? A ritual that requires a death battle to activate?"

Harry had a seriously bad feeling about the Holy Grail. Anything that required death to work was probably Dark. While that may not necessarily mean it's bad, odds are, it probably is.

"And what of it? Are you just going to-"

"Let him go, Saber," Shirou said. Harry smiled. He understood what Harry was trying to say, then.

Saber whirled to face Shirou. "What do you mean?"

"It's alright. I know why he's doing it."

"I'm just saying," Rin tossed a single jewel up and down, "You could always use a Command Seal on Harry."

Shirou frowned. "I would never do that."

"I'll stop you before you can," Harry mentioned offhandedly. It was one thing to willingly become someone's servant. It was a whole nother thing to be forced to obey someone's actions.

Besides, Command Seals sound eerily similar to the Imperius curse. Harry hated the Imperius.

"And he won't let me," Shirou shrugged. "There's no point, really."

Rin sighed. "What, so you're just going to let Harry walk away?"

"Yeah."

"Well," Illya clapped her hands together, a wide grin on her face. "While it's been great and all, that's enough for tonight. I think it's time for me to take my leave."

Berserker's axe-sword vanished as he turned around and began walking towards Illya and Harry.

"Bye-bye Onii-chan! Thank you for your Servant!" Illya waved goodbye before grabbing Harry's hand and pulling him along. Berserker followed behind them.

Harry turned back and gave one last smile. "Apologies, but this is something that I must do."

Shirou shot him a thumbs-up. "I understand completely."

"I don't!" Rin had an intense look of concentration and confusion on her face, as if she was trying to figure out Harry's logic and failing to. Harry didn't blame her. His actions weren't exactly logical.

But sometimes, you have to ignore logic and just follow your feelings.

"Neither do I," Saber's sword and armor dematerialized, leaving her standing in her normal clothes, staring at Harry. Thankfully, the glare on her face was gone.

"Just trust me," Harry inclined his head.

Saber sighed. "Very well. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. Please, do not die."

"Got it."

"Come on, Harry. Let's leave already," Illya pouted, tugging on Harry's sleeve. "You're taking forever."

Harry chuckled. "All right, all right. Let's go. Hey, where exactly are we going?"

"My castle," Illya replied casually.

Harry paused. "An actual castle?"

"Yup."

"Exactly how rich are you?"

"Very."

"Of course you are"

Berserker picked Illya up and leaped over the compound walls. Harry turned around one last time.

"Well, smash a rock if you need me," Harry tossed each of them a rune-inscribed rock.

"Farewell," Saber looked a little unhappy. Harry didn't blame her. He'll explain it to her later.

"I still don't understand. Harry, don't you dare die when you're gone. I expect answers," Rin glared, hands on her hips.

"And you'll get them," Harry assured.

Shirou smiled. "Go do what you have to do."

"Harry, come on already!" Illya called impatiently from over the wall.

"I'll be off, then." Harry gave one last uncertain look, a hesitant jerk of his body, before determination set in his face and he spun in place and Apparated outside next to Illya.

Harry canceled the muggle repelling charm. There was no use for it now.

Berserker was nowhere to be seen. He must've returned to Spirit Form. Thank Merlin for that. Harry didn't really want to spend any more time around Berserker than necessary.

"Harry Potter," Harry's attention was brought back to Illya, who was pointing at him, an eager expression on her face. "My first order to you, my servant, is to teleport me to the Einzbern Castle."

"No can do," Harry shook his head. "I need to have seen the location first."

In order to anchor himself to reality, Harry must be able to visualize where to anchor himself. Otherwise, the only thing that would happen is him foolishly spinning around in a circle.

Illya huffed. "Fine." Then the smile was immediately back on her face, and she started walking away, clearly expecting Harry to follow her. Harry obliged, falling in line next to her.

"So how exactly does your teleportation work?" Illya asked.

"I only need to be able to visualize the destination. That's pretty much it." Compared to most spells, Apparition was absurdly easy to learn. If a wizard has determination, deliberation, and destination, then he could Apparate.

"Then can you teleport me up ahead?" Illya pointed at a random spot in the street ahead of them.

Harry chuckled. "Alright."

After checking that there were no muggles around taking a late night stroll, Harry put his hand on top of Illya's shoulder and Apparated 20 feet forward.

Illya laughed in exhilaration. She looked back at where she had been in wonder. "I was there, and now I'm here, without spending the time to travel the distance."

She looked back at Harry. "How did you acquire this True Magic?"

Harry shrugged. "I was born with it. I have a different magic than you do."

Illya's eyes flashed. "What?"

"What I do and and what you do are two completely different things." It took Harry a few seconds to realize that Illya had stopped walking. "Is there a problem?"

Illya narrowed her eyes. "You're lying. Prove it."

Harry tilted his head. "How?"

Illya pondered for a moment. "Cast a spell."

A ball of fire came to life in Harry's palm as a simultaneous Flame Freezing charm ensured he wasn't burned.

Illya blinked. "I can definitely sense magical energy coming from you, but now that I'm in close proximity, it definitely feels. . . off."

Harry nodded. "It's the same with your magecraft. It's similar, but there are definite differences."

"Why would you tell me this?"

Illya's question caught Harry entirely off guard. "I'm sorry?"

Illya glared at Harry. "I was an enemy just 10 minutes ago. Why would you tell me?"

Harry nodded. It was a valid question. "Because it doesn't matter. Even if you know my magic is different from yours, it wouldn't affect the outcome of a battle."

Operational security was essential and all, but only for the really vital and confidential topics. Such trivial things like this don't really need to be kept secret.

"And, above all, I trust you, Illya," Harry smiled. He probably shouldn't. Illya was murderous and unstable. She wanted Shirou dead. And yet. . .

Harry was more than willing to take the risk of placing his trust in her. Because that was what his friends had done for him.

Illya looked away. "What if, by trusting someone, all that happens is that you get hurt in the end?"

"I would rather trust and regret, than doubt and regret." Trust was a good thing. Perhaps the best of things. Without trust, civilizations couldn't be built and friendships couldn't form. All human ingenuity and progress was possible because of trust.

Someone who never trusts anyone must live a lonely life indeed.

Illya turned back to Harry. "So can I trust you?" Her vulnerable expression was back.

"With your life," Harry promised. It would take a lot for Harry to betray someone.

Because Harry is well aware that once you lose someone's trust, even if you get it back, it'll never be the same. He'll only betray someone if it's for the Greater Good.

It's always for the Greater Good.

Illya grinned. "I'm glad. Now, teleport me again!"

"You're rather lucky, you know," Harry commented as they Apparated another hundred feet ahead. "Most Apparitions have an extremely loud crack accompanying it. Silent ones are rare."

Illya sharply spun her head, scrutinizing Harry. "Most?! Are there others out there that can teleport?"

Oops.

Oh well. Harry didn't really mind if Illya knew. It's not like knowing Harry is from another world would really affect anything.

Harry didn't really understand why some people would never tell anything about themselves. He's met several during the war against Voldemort. Battle-hardened veterans cloaked in mystery.

Harry always found it really annoying when they wouldn't tell him anything. What do they have to hide? What was so important? Did they have to hold their cards so tightly to their chest?

Harry was confident enough in his abilities to reveal a few of his cards. He only needed to keep the really Dark magic under lock and key. But the fact that he was from another world? Completely irrelevant and useless information. Interesting, for sure, but in the grand scale of things, it simply does not matter.

It was with that reasoning that Harry firmly divulged, "Yeah. I came from another world, where teleportation was common."

". . . what?"

"It's for that reason that I'm technically not a Servant. While I arrived through a magic circle and had Command Seals forced onto me, I don't think I have much of a connection to the Grail. I was still alive, for one, when I arrived." Harry shrugged. "Besides, only 7 Servants are supposed to be summoned. I'm the eighth."

"WHAT?!"

"Yeah, Caster confirmed it for me," Harry idly scanned his hand. "I'm not entirely sure where this body came from."

From what Harry could gather, magic circles automatically engrave Command Seals on everyone that passes through it, which explains why he's bound by Command Seals. Beyond that, however, Harry had no clue as to how he's occupying a brand new body.

Oh well. He'll take it. It's not as if he's feeling any mental degradation or instability or anything.

"The Holy Grail can only summon seven Servants!" Illya's face scrunched up in confusion. "How is that even possible?"

"I wasn't summoned. I came through a magic circle, but I wasn't summoned."

Illya's eyes widened. "Kaleidoscope, the Second Magic of dimension traveling."

"Rin mentioned that before. I confess I really don't know what Kaleidoscope is or how it works. Oh, you mentioned a lost Magic. What is it?"

How do you lose a magic? Losing knowledge of a magic was understandable, but losing a magic altogether?

"The lost Magic. . ." Illya slowed to a stop. "It's what the Einzberns have been seeking for a thousand years."

Losing a magic, and not recovering it for a millenium?! That's gotta hurt.

"It's the Third Magic, Heaven's Feel. It's a miracle that allows for the materialization of the soul." Illya's words pierced Harry. His blood froze.

Soul magic?

Harry's expression darkened as his magic swirled in agitation within him. "Elaborate." His tone was unmistakably commanding.

Illya knit her eyebrows. "What do you mean? When a person dies, the soul returns to the Root. However, Heaven's Feel would allow his soul to remain in the physical world, thus achieving immortality." She chuckled bitterly. "It's the salvation of humanity."

"The Root?" Harry asked.

"It's a metaphysical location that exists out of time and space, and it is the source of all events and phenomena in the universe. Magecraft, Magic, and Mystery originate from the Root. Heroic Spirits too are summoned from the Root," Illya clarified. "It is the place where souls go after they die, and it's impossible for a soul to be recovered once it's been dispersed. By materializing the soul, you prevent it from dispersing, allowing it to remain in the world."

What. The. Hell?

That. . . that isn't how death works. Not even close. Harry should know. He has, after all, died once before.

And a Root?! A location where souls reside in and all magic originates? It feels. . . wrong. As in, the very idea of such a thing made Harry's skin crawl.

What's wrong with the world Harry's in? Harry could understand having different customs and history. He could even understand having different magic.

But death itself being different?!

Harry didn't want to dwell on such things. In fact, he didn't even want to think about it.

"Alright. Hey, Illya, are we almost there yet?" Harry desperately tried to change the subject.

Fortunately, Illya allowed it. "Soon. Oh, we can take a shortcut. You see that tree over there? Yeah, that one. Teleport there."

They Apparated on top of a tree, easily balancing on a branch.

"We're back in my territory," Illya nimbly hopped down, kicking off of the tree trunk and landing lightly on her feet. "The castle isn't far from here."

Harry took the path of least resistance. He simply dropped down, canceling out his momentum right before he hit the ground.

A sudden thought struck him. "Is there anyone else there?"

Illya nodded. "My two maids, Sella and Leysritt, live with me."

"And they're well aware of the Holy Grail War, I presume?"

"Yup."

They ambled through the forest, a canopy of leaves and branches overhead. Harry quickly sidestepped an innocent spot on the ground. "Was that a trap?"

Illya gave a disappointed sigh. "You sensed it, didn't you?"

Harry stared at her disbelievingly. "Did you want me to step on the trap?"

Illya laughed at the look on his face. "It would've been hilarious. Of course I wanted you to step on it. Don't worry, it's not harmful."

"I doubt it." Harry reached out with his magic just in case there would be any more traps up ahead.

Illya stilled. "Don't. . . don't you trust me?"

Awww damnit. Puppy dog eyes should be illegal.

Harry sighed and turned around. He walked back to the same spot, taking a deep breath. His intuition told him not to. His magic told him not to. Hell, his common sense told him not to.

But those eyes. . .

Harry cautiously placed his foot on top of the spot.

The resulting blast launched him off his feet. Illya had been correct; it hadn't hurt at all, but. . .

Illya laughter reached Harry's ears. Harry ignored it. There were much more pressing matters to attend to. Harry landed, paying no heed to the pain that shot up his legs. He inspected his white cloak.

It was filthy.

Harry had never cast a cleaning charm so fast before in his life.

XxX

"What just happened?" Rin demanded.

The events that just transpired seemed almost surreal. Berserker attacked, a fight went down, then Harry left with Illyasviel.

If Rin didn't know better, she'd swear that Kotomine had slipped some hallucinogens into her drink again for the purpose of "training," but she hasn't even been near the priest for days.

Did I just see the Sorcerer leave with Illyasviel? Archer's incredulous voice (thought?) echoed in RIn's head.

You did.

"Harry just left us," Saber said hollowly.

"I know that, but why?" Rin couldn't think of a single reason why Harry would suddenly change his mind and join forces with Illyasviel.

"I do not know," Saber. "He must have had a purpose in doing so."

"He did," Shirou spoke up.

Rin and Saber turned to him. Rin took it a step further and grabbed Shirou's collar, pulling him in close. "Yeah? And how would you know?"

Shirou blinked. "Isn't it obvious? It's because he needed to save Illya."

Rin frowned. "From what?"

Shirou shrugged. "I don't know. Harry must've seen something, though. Something we didn't see. And it must've been big, for Harry to go with her like that."

Rin released Shirou. "I don't understand. I was there. Nothing suggested that Illyasviel needed to be saved from anything."

Sure, Illyasviel had sounded devastated for a moment when talking about hating Shirou, but that shouldn't be enough reason for Harry to leave.

Right?

To be a mage is to walk hand in hand with death, after all.

It shouldn't be surprising that most mage's backstories are tragic and contains events that most mundanes would consider unthinkable.

Illyasviel had probably suffered through some tragedy early on that caused her to develop such an intense hatred for Shirou. While unfortunate, it wasn't uncommon.

So why did Harry react so strongly to it?

Unless. . .

Hogwarts.

Rin's eyes widened. To be a mage is to walk hand in hand with death, but Harry Potter wasn't a mage. He hadn't lived the life of a mage.

Which means. . . what Rin saw as a normal occurrence, Harry saw a little girl who needed help.

Rin sighed. Troublesome. "I understand now."

Saber tilted her head. "What is it?"

Rin looked at Saber. "You heard the pain in Illyasviel's voice earlier, correct?"

Saber nodded. "I had not expected such torment and suffering in one so young. She has gone through much hardship."

"Right. To us, that's normal. Being a mage is difficult. Terrible things will happen. To be a mage is to walk with death."

"But to Harry," Saber realized, "It's something unforgivable."

"Exactly. He heard the pain in Illyasviel's voice, and he must've wanted to save her from it. Save her from herself."

How foolish of him. Archer's voice was downright cynical and perhaps even scornful.

I know.

"Which means. . ." Saber directed her cool gaze towards Shirou.

"Precisely," Rin grabbed Shirou's collar again, pulling him close.

"Whoa wait! What's wrong?" Shirou brought up his hands in defense.

"The reason why Harry left and went with Illyasviel was because she was in pain. That pain is somehow related to you," Saber outlined.

"Tell us, Shirou, what have you done to Illyasviel?" Rin smiled at Shirou. It wasn't a nice smile. "Tell us everything. Leave nothing out."

Shirou gulped in fear.

XxX

"Good evening. My name is Harry Potter. It's a- HOLY HELL WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Harry scrambled backwards from the nun who was wielding a large silver halberd with a red design running on the flat of the blade and was currently trying to cut Harry in two.

The nun, who had the same red eyes as Illya, glared at Harry. The gigantic halberd looked like an axe, except much more elegant and long. "What have you done to our mistress? Answer me. Sorcerer!"

"WHOA WHOA WHOA we can talk about this!" Harry Apparated backwards from a downward cleave that would've split Harry down the middle. Dang it, why do they always shoot first, talk second?! Have they never heard of diplomacy before?!

"You are the Servant that our mistress spared on the first night." A different nun was standing near the back, who also had red eyes. She was currently giving Harry a death stare.

"Sella, Leysritt, enough!" Illya ran forwards, holding out her arms in front of Harry in an effort to stop them.

The halberd-wielding nun rose up from her stance, lowering her weapon. "Illya-"

"Harry and I came to an agreement. He's my servant now!" Illya grinned. "There's no need to kill him."

The calm-looking nun in the back tilted her head. "What about Berserker? Is he dead?"

"Berserker isn't dead. Berserker is strong, strong enough so that even Harry wasn't strong enough to defeat him," Illya smiled smugly at Harry.

"If I just had a wand. . ." Harry groused. That fight was completely unfair. Berserker's Noble Phantasm was just unfair.

Illya ignored him. "Harry's not my Servant though. He's my servant, like you two."

The nun slammed the butt of the halberd onto the marble floor. The ring reverberated throughout the hall. "Can he be trusted?"

Oh? Her speech was broken, as if she didn't know Japanese.

Illya looked at Harry. "Yes. Yes he can."

"Forgive me, mistress, for not taking your word for it," The nun in the back didn't relent on her death glare. If anything, it only intensified. "Foul rogue. What have you done to our mistress? A mind-altering spell?"

"Number one, I would never do that," Harry shifted uncomfortably underneath her glare. "Number two, do you think Berserker would let me alter Illya's mind without doing something about it?"

"That is irrelevant-" She was interrupted by Illya.

"Sella, just drop it. I trust him," Illya clasped Harry's hand. "He won't betray me."

"And if he does betray you? Like how Kiri-"

"Sella!" The other nun, presumably Leysritt, hissed in warning.

"He won't."

Those two words held an absolute conviction in them.

Harry's heart warmed a little at that.

Sella's eyes narrowed even more. "Harry Potter. Sorcerer. Illya has already told us many things about you."

"Good things, I hope," Harry smiled.

"Whether or not we allow you here depends on your answer to this question. Why did you save Illya from Archer's arrow on the night that you met?"

Harry frowned. "Because I didn't want her to die. She's just a kid-"

"No. I don't believe that," Sella interrupted. "Give me the real answer."

Illya turned to her, confused. "Wait, but that is the real answer." She turned back to Harry. "Is it?"

Harry was silent for a moment. He regarded Sella with a thoughtful gaze. "I see. So that's how it is."

Leysritt fell back into a stance, tensing up and prepared to rush Harry. "What is?"

"I knew that the culture of our worlds were different, but I wasn't aware that they were that different." Harry sighed and closed his eyes.

Was the idea of helping others, protecting others, saving others because it was the right thing to do such a foreign concept to these people? But then again, it was a foreign concept in Harry's world too, where the majority of the population were spineless cowards who would gladly damn a group of people just so they could live. On second thought. . .

"Nevermind, I take that back. Both worlds have equally selfish and immoral people. No, the reason why I saved Illya. . ." Oh gods, Harry was going to regret saying this. Dumbledore had always said it, and Harry had always disagreed on principle. But now. . .

A pure smile spread across Harry's lips, devoid of any sarcasm or mockingness. "It's because I'm a hero."

He may call it a "saving people things." He may explain it as "she's just a kid." He could say it as "I didn't have any intentions of fighting her."

But in the end, the main reason is because he's a hero. There is evil in the world, and a hero is someone who stands up to evil.

And Illya, for all her faults, was not evil. So Harry, as a hero, could not kill her.

Harry didn't like to consider himself as a hero though. Because, in the end, he's willing to do anything for the Greater Good.

(Almost anything.)

And that's what separates him from the heroes in the comic books. True heroes live in a fictional world, where everything will turn out fine without them having to bloody their hands and do unspeakable things.

Harry wished life could be that way. Alas, it rarely is.

Of course, Dumbledore had always argued that doing things for the Greater Good didn't mean Harry wasn't a hero.

Harry never really agreed with that.

(Just because it's the Greater Good doesn't make it not evil.)

Sella tilted her head, an amused smile coming over her face. "You're a hero, you say?"

Technically, yes. "I am. And heroes do not hurt the innocent, no matter what."

Harry would hurt an innocent for the Greater Good. And that's why he's not a hero. But for the sake of pragmaticism, Harry's willing to call himself a hero just so he could stay without angering the two nuns.

Were they nuns? They were dressed like nuns, but did they believe in God? Or were they just making a fashion statement?

Leysritt did something completely unexpected. She laughed. "Illya? Innocent?"

Illya stamped her foot, scowling. "What do you mean by 'innocent'? I'm an innocent!"

Sella cracked a smile at that. "Yes, of course you are, mistress."

"Not you too!"

Leysritt, in between laughter, managed to get out, "Tell. Plans. For Shirou."

Harry instantly grew alert at that. "Illya, what plans are she talking about?"

Illya glared at the two, completely ignoring Harry. "I'm taking him to my room. Knock if you need anything. Any objections?"

Oh right. Did Sella accept his answer? Harry was curious.

Sella locked eyes with Harry, silently staring until it became rather uncomfortable. Thankfully, she broke the contact. "No, mistress. I have everything I need."

Leysritt's laughter slowly ebbed out. "No, mistress."

"Then it's decided. Harry, come on." And Illya all but dragged Harry away from Leysritt and Sella, pulling him up the stairs and into a room.

Harry could feel Sella and Leysritt's stares burning holes into the back of his head. Clearly, while most of their paranoia has been eased, a lot still remained.

This is going to be a long stay.

XxX

Caster leaned against the wall.

All of her planning. Down the drains.

She let out a sound close to a whimper. It wasn't a whimper, because she doesn't whimper, ever, but it was pretty close.

She had known when Berserker and the Einzbern princess attacked the Emiya Compound due to her veritable net over the city. At first, she had been fearful that against Berserker, Harry might perish. It was a small chance, but it was still a possibility, especially if Harry had to protect the two useless Masters he's allied himself with.

But no. The princess and Berserker didn't kill Harry. They did something much, much worse.

They recruited him.

Damn this little white-haired princess. First, she's the Master of Heracles. Next, she takes away the Sorcerer, ruining all of her plans.

Heracles was already scary enough by himself. Teamed up with Harry Potter. . . Caster wasn't sure if there even was anyone that could stand up to them. Getting close enough to use Rule Breaker is now nothing but a wishful dream.

She can still get Saber, though, so kidnapping Sakura is still a high priority.

XxX

Zouken gave a rattling sigh as he paced around in a dark corner of the Matou manor. Something slithered out of his teeth and disappeared into the folds of his clothing.

"Oh, my dear, this is proving to give me some difficulty. All the Servants have been summoned already, so acquiring one for myself isn't an easy task." Zouken held up a single withered finger.

"However, I managed to devise a method. You see, the current Assassin is an irregular Servant. He is an aberration.

"What if his body can be used as a gateway to summon another Servant?

"What if his Servant body occupying the false role of Assassin is enough to pull out a true Assassin?

"Then it would be outrageously difficult, requiring centuries' worth of knowledge and a large amount of mana, but not impossible to use Assassin's flesh as a catalyst to summon the True Assassin."

Zouken spread his hands magnanimously. "And that is what I shall do. Pretty good, hmm?"

Sakura didn't answer. Then again, with all of the worms swarming over and through her body, Zouken doubted she could even answer.

No matter. Zouken's used to not having anyone appreciate his genius.

"I admit, I didn't intend for you to. . . train tonight. But, well. . . you're almost perfect. When I came to pick you up tonight, it only confirmed my hypothesis." Zouken dropped the psychology book on the ground. It landed with a thud. Sakura's eyes didn't even move.

In his defense, it's been too long since he was able to understand meaningful human emotion. Even longer since he has felt any of them. So he had to check a textbook to make sure. He didn't want to make a mistake, after all.

"You're feeling. . . hope, aren't you." It wasn't a question. Sakura didn't answer.

Zouken smiled. "Well, my dear Sakura. With your newfound hope. . . so many things will happen. You just need a little bit more preparation."

They do after all, say that hope is a good thing, perhaps even the best of things.

And for Zouken, it will certainly be the best thing that's happened to him in a very long time.

XxX

"Back again so soon, Lancer?" Kotomine didn't need to turn around to tell that Lancer was already there.

Kotomine lifted the cup of mapo sauce he'd. . . liberated from the restaurant. The aroma that drifted up to his nose was exquisite. Some would call him a monster for drinking the sauce directly. Others would call it disgusting. There are even a few that would label him a heretic and hunt him down for his blasphemous ways. But Kotomine didn't care.

He just wanted something good to drink.

Kotomine took a sip, relishing how his taste buds exploded and sweat immediately began trickling down.

"Berserker attacked the Emiya reside- What in the name of the Light are you doing, man?! That's disgusting!"

Kotomine paused. "You can tell what this is?"

"Well, yeah! What, did you think I didn't have a sense of smell?"

Servants have heightened senses, Kotomine belatedly remembered. "It's none of your concern. Continue with your report."

He could feel Lancer's judging stare on his back. He didn't care.

"Right, well, Berserker attacked and Harry joined forces with him," Lancer said casually.

"Apologies, but what did you just say? I don't think I heard you correctly," Kotomine was slightly worried. Was he growing old? Did Lancer just say that Harry Potter joined forces with Berserker?

"Technically, Harry Potter joined forces with Berserker's Master, the Einzbern princess, but that's pretty much the same as joining forces with Berserker." Lancer shrugged. "Makes no difference either way."

"I. . . I did not foresee that. Why would he be doing this? Unless. . ." Kotomine trailed off.

"So what do I do?" Kotomine saw Lancer twirl around his spear in his peripheral vision. An unconscious nervous action, Kotomine noted. While Lancer didn't show it on the surface, he was probably unsettled by the new alliance. "I can do a lot of things, but hanging around the Einzbern castle is something even I won't do. I'll get found out within seconds, and fighting Berserker would be exceedingly difficult."

"I believe in you," Kotomine said absently. "Go get 'em."

Lancer blinked. "Didn't you hear what I just said?"

"Yeah. Good luck, Lancer. You'll need it," Kotomine finally turned around and caught sight of Lancer's expression.

If there was a "bitch what the hell" face, then this would be it.

Kotomine smiled thinly. "Don't worry. Harry Potter won't kill you, and I don't think he'll let Berserker kill you either. In any case, if you're truly that worried, then just hang around the outskirts of the forest."

Somehow, Lancer wasn't assured.

XxX

Shinji giggled to himself. He told himself that it was a manly chuckle, but it was objectively a giggle. He was lying on his back in his bed.

"Tomorrow, we show Emiya what a true mage can do."

Next to him, Rider silently watched. Shinji couldn't tell what she felt, and he didn't care either. She was just a tool, nothing less, nothing more.

"Oh, the look on his face will be beautiful." Shinji spread out his arms. "When he sees everyone dropping like flies around him. . . so much for the Hero of Justice, hmm?"

Rider still didn't make a noise.

Shinji sighed. "You're boring, you know that? You never talk, you never do anything interesting. Come here."

She dutifully approached.

"Sit down."

Rider sat on the edge of the bed.

"Now stay still."

And as Shinji assaulted her body, Rider's expression remained stoic. For her Master, her true Master, she'll endure anything.

Because every second Shinji is focused on Rider is one less second he's focused on Sakura.

Still, the itch in her hand to rip off her blindfold couldn't seem to go away, no matter how hard Rider concentrated.

Soon.

Soon.

XxX

Harry looked around Illya's bedroom. It was large, larger than even the Hogwarts boy's dormitory designed to fit 5 boys. A large red couch faced the four poster canopied bed tucked away in the wall. There was a small round table with three seats.

Crystal chandeliers hung down from the ceiling, casting a warm yellow glow over the room. Large pillars supported the roof, and a plethora of rugs were thrown over the floor. Flames roared in the fireplace in an effort to fight back the cold.

"Do. . . do you like it?" Illya seemed almost shy, a stark contrast to her smug confident self earlier that night.

Harry turned to her, smiling. "It's awesome!"

And it truly was. Harry wasn't the type to surround himself with luxuries, but he can still appreciate them. And this room was definitely luxurious.

"It's as if this room was made for royalty," Harry took note of the very expensive looking vases and pottery. "It suits you."

Illya blushed. "Well, I am a princess, you know."

Huh?

"I don't know. . ." Harry stared quizzically at her. "You're a princess?"

"I am," Illya suddenly seemed very unsure of herself. "Umm. . ."

"Ah, I see. I almost forgot," Harry faced her fully, bending down slightly in an effort to lower the height difference.

"W-w-what are you doing!" Illya took a step backward, her face inexplicably very red, hand coming up as if to block Harry.

"I think proper introductions are in order," Harry brushed a strand of white hair out of his eyes.

Illya frowned, ceasing her protestations for a moment. "What do you mean? I already know your name, and you know mine."

Harry only smiled. Illya questioningly looked at him, body still slightly tense, as if expecting Harry to do something. Harry simply stretched out his hand. "My name is Harry Potter, a Sorcerer, Servant of Shirou, and servant of Illya. It's a pleasure to meet you."

A repeat of what he had said to Illya on the first night they met.

Illya's mouth fell open for a second before she abruptly closed it. She observed his hand for a moment, before raising her head, red eyes peering into his green ones. If she looked really closely, she could almost see a twinkle in his eyes.

And this time, Illya reciprocated the gesture, reaching out with her hand and shaking his own. Harry's smile widened.

"My name is Illyasviel von Einzbern, the Einzbern Princess, Master of Berserker, and master of Harry Potter. It's a pleasure to meet you as well."

Harry let go of her hand and rose up again to his full height. "Well, then, Illya. Let's have fun, shall we?"

Illya blinked, caught off guard. "Fun?"

Channeling his inner Sirius, Harry grinned mischievously at her. "Fun."

Sirius had taught him that sometimes, deep philosophical discussions weren't the best way to start the healing process.

Laughter is.


Illya's death hit me hard.

As for Harry revealing information to Illya- and just about everyone else. . . well, trust me when I say that there is, in fact, a reason as to why he does that. I will not reveal the reason yet, because spoilers, but there is one. And, as we've just seen, it just bit him in the ass with Caster. This is the first time, and it will not be the last.

Harry is not the most psychologically sane individual around. He hides it really well, and he doesn't even know it sometimes, but nobody can come out unscathed after a war. Especially if the war contains unspeakable horrors (cough Voldemort.) Sirius's death, like in canon, hit him really hard. The only difference is that since Harry was actually good at magic, he was able to take his anger out on things other than Dumbledore's trinkets. So he definitely did a lot of things that he now regrets.

Fiendfyre was able to take away several of Berserker's lives, but God Hand is overpowered. Even with a wand, there isn't much Harry could do against Berserker. Conversely, Berserker can't do anything to Harry, because of Apparition and Fading, so they'd go about even. At least, that's how I think the power scaling works.

Harry is now without a wand. Don't worry, he'll acquire a real wand soon enough.

At the time, it made sense to Harry to let Shinji leave, but when he reflected on it, he realized just how scummy Shinji had to be for his intuition to react that negatively.

Illya attacked the compound head-on because, although she didn't show it, she was unsettled by how Harry, Shirou's Servant, had saved her. It went against her entire world view. So she wasn't content to sit and wait for him; she actively sought him out.

Harry left with Illya because Illya reminded him of himself, and he genuinely wanted to help. Not because it's his "saving people thing," but because it mattered personally to him.

Some unexpected things arose when I was writing this chapter, which is why it took so long. I'll try to be faster next time.

Thank you all for reading, and please review :)

-euphoric