Master and Servant

Harry woke with a sputtering gasp that quickly devolved into harsh coughs. A warm hand on his back offered some small comfort while he tried to relearn how to breathe. After what felt like ages his lungs finally began to cooperate and he was able to inhale without gasping. A plastic cup was held in front of him, and Harry gratefully took a long sip of lukewarm water.

"My apologies for not getting you out sooner," a voice said over Harry's head. He looked up and found the man from the summon circle smiling down at him. "Quite an unusual beginning for a Grail War, wouldn't you agree?"

Harry stared at him uncertainly. "I'm not entirely sure what would be usual for a, a Grail war..?"

The man grinned. "I gathered that actually." Then his face turned serious and he stepped back from Harry and kneeled. "I understand you don't truly know what you've become involved in, but the fact remains that you are the one whose Command Seals are binding me to this realm."

Harry frowned uncertainly and clutched the cup in his lap, glancing down at the marks on his hand before looking back up at the strange man.

"Therefore," the man continued solemnly, "you are the master who has summoned me, never mind who conducted the actual ritual. In the end, it is the Grail itself which summons the Servants, the Master only needs to attach their mana to anchor their Servants to the world. So, I'll ask you once more," the man paused and took a deep breath before pinning Harry in place with a searching look.

"Art thou my Master?"

Harry fidgeted but couldn't quite manage to look away. "I don't know what's going on, are you sure you wouldn't rather go back to Archibald? He really was the one trying to summon you."

The man's face pinched and he leaned forward desperately. "Do you doubt my loyalty, simply because you were not the one who drew the circle? I swear that I will serve you faithfully, whatever your wish!"

"Why though?" Harry asked with a frown. "I don't have anything to do with whatever this war is, it was a mistake that I was even there! I thought something was going on that wasn't, I misunderstood-"

"Regardless!" The man interrupted, with an almost wild look in his eyes. "I would swear myself to you, for the Grail or for whatever cause you choose. I would serve you more faithfully than any knight has served their lord!"

Harry blinked in shock and leaned back. "I don't-"

"Please! My Lord!" The man lowered his head in a bow over his knee. Harry stared at him worriedly. He couldn't understand why the man was so upset, unless….

"Do you get sent back to wherever you came from if you don't have a master?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Yes," the man said, head still resolutely bowed down. "The Heroic Spirits summoned by the Grail must be anchored by a Master in order to maintain a physical form. Without that, we are sent back to the Throne of Heroes to await another chance at returning to this world."

"Throne of Heroes?" Harry repeated blankly. "Heroic spirits? What...are you exactly?"

"I am Diarmuid Ua Duibhne," the man finally looked up, his eyes like steel, but his lips twitching as if he wanted to frown. "Loyal Knight of the Fianna. I was summoned to be your Servant in the vessel of Lancer, and fight against other summoned Heroic Spirits in the War for the Holy Grail."

Harry looked from the man, Diarmuid, to his hand in confusion. "How… why on earth was I chosen to be part of this?" he asked incredulously.

"That I don't know," Diarmuid said regretfully. "It is the Grail that chooses the participants of the war. It is omnipotent, so it must have seen some desire in you that would lead you on this path."

"A path to a war?" Harry said angrily. Bollocks to that.

Diarmuid shook his head. "A path to a wish," he said. "Any wish you have, the Grail could grant you, if it is won."

Harry frowned and looked down at the Hallows mark. That sounded like a load of hippogriff dung. A war for a wish. As if he had one that was even possible.

"What about the marks?" he asked, raising his right hand to show the red lines on the back.

"The Command Seals," Diarmuid answered dutifully. "A sign of the Grail's acknowledgement, as well as the connection between a Master and their Servant. Each mark of the Seal can act as a binding, allowing a Master to make three irrevocable orders the Servant must follow."

Harry frowned. "That's creepy," he muttered. Diarmuid stayed silent while Harry thought.

"Archibald had a different mark from mine," Harry finally said, as casually as he could. "Is there any meaning to the shapes of the seals?"

"As far as I know, the Seals take a form representing the nature of the Master who bears them."

Harry stared at the man, spirit, hero, or whatever before him, then he burst out laughing. Merlin! A mark in the shape of the bearer's nature? He really had misunderstood everything, hadn't he?

Diarmuid looked at him worriedly, but lowered his head into another bow when Harry calmed down enough to look at him again.

"So, why were you chosen then?" he asked, still half laughing at his own foolishness.

"I-," Diarmuid glanced up in confusion. "The Grail chose me, and I suppose that Master who performed the ritual must have used some catalyst to call me specifically."

"Catalyst?" Harry blinked. That is what Archibald had called the metal shard he'd received, hadn't he? "That was the artifact I delivered to him, the one that…"

"The one that?" Diarmuid repeated curiously.

Harry set the cup on the bench next to him and rubbed the mark on his hand. "When I first picked it up, that's when this appeared."

Diarmuid blinked, looking at Harry's hand and the seal upon it, then he smiled widely. "But then, that must mean the Grail choose you specifically to be my Master!"

Harry frowned, but couldn't bring himself to say anything when the man had just lost that distressed look in his eyes. He huffed instead and Diarmuid grinned before lowering his head again.

"Then, may I receive an answer now, my lord?" he asked, voice ringing out more confidently than before. "Art thou my long awaited master?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I suppose I am, though I still think this is a mistake."

"Mistake or no, I pledge myself to thee," Diarmuid said clearly. "I shall serve you loyally and obey your orders until you have no need of me." He looked up, face full of satisfaction and an almost teasing smirk at the edge of his lips. "Might I ask for my lord's name?"

"Oh! Sorry," Harry scratched the back of his neck. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

"It is an honor to serve you Lord Potter."

Harry made a face. "Please don't call me that. Just Harry is fine."

Diarmuid laughed. "As you wish, my lord Harry!"

Harry dearly wanted to groan, but he had the feeling it would only make the strange man laugh more. "Anyway, what do you want from this Grail?" he asked.

Diarmuid tilted his head, brow furrowed quizzically. "What do you mean, my lord?"

Harry pursed his lips. That 'my lord' thing was going to get old fast. "I mean, the Grail's picking people who want something you said. And yeah, Archibald was using something that called you, but you still want something, right? What do you get out of fighting in this war?"

Diarmuid smiled softly. "My wish has already been granted, simply from the opportunity to be here."

"What? Just being summoned to the world was your wish?"

"Being able to serve a lord to the best of my ability," Diarmuid said proudly. "I can prove my loyalty is unmatched, finally."

There was a frightful tinge of obsession in the man's eyes that Harry was wary of, but it was way too late for him to run away now.

"Er, so… You mentioned Fianna?" Harry said slowly. "Isn't that Irish, uh, some sort of clan from myth?"

"Not a clan." Diarmuid shook his head gently. "A group of, hmm, knights you might call us, pledged to a lord. Our tales were told in the Fiannaíocht, which is somewhat history and somewhat myth," he quipped with a grin. "As a Heroic Spirit, I am one who lived in the distant past, and whose history passed into legend."

"Alright," Harry said slowly, a terrible thought growing in his head. "So, you mean to say, Heroic Spirits are...dead people? Brought back to life?"

"Not quite, my lord," Diarmuid said thoughtfully. "We are the dead returned, but not to life, and we are not quite as we were when we lived." He pursed his lips as if thinking, then looked up at Harry. "We have physical forms only due to the mana provided by the Grail and our Masters, so we are more a type of familiar. Not ghosts, and not revived humans, we are more… magical in nature I suppose."

"Oh." That didn't make sense at all. Harry's face must have shown his continued confusion, because Diarmuid sighed and shook his head.

"I am afraid I know not how to explain it any better than that."

Harry frowned. "So you haven't been summoned for a Grail War before?"

"Not to my knowledge." Diarmuid shrugged as if to say it wouldn't matter if he had been.

"But, then...why do you know so much about it?"

"The Grail gave me the knowledge when I was summoned," Diarmuid answered easily. "Knowledge of how I was summoned, and why, as well as enough history of the world to understand the era."

Harry blinked. "What, like, cars and stuff?"

"Yes." Diarmuid grinned. "This era is quite an exciting one to be born in."

"I guess." Harry regarded the man-spirit?- still kneeling before him and sighed. "You don't have to stay on the ground you know." He gestured at the bench beside him and scooted over a bit. Diarmuid smiled and shook his head.

"Oh, c'mon!" Harry rolled his eyes. "Just sit. It's really awkward having you on the ground like that!"

Diarmuid looked shocked for a moment, then laughed and stood up gracefully. "As my lord commands me."

"That's really awkward too," Harry muttered. Diarmuid didn't seem to hear him. Harry shook his head while the spirit sat gingerly down, turned toward him as if waiting for some signal to jump up or kneel down again. It was unnerving to have that much attention focused on him.

"Well, could you tell me about this Grail War?" Harry asked, shifting over more and glancing at the man. "Like...what is the point?"

"The point?" Diarmuid repeated in confusion. "Why...to have a wish granted. Do… Does my lord have no wish?"

"Not really," Harry said with a shrug. "I'm not much interested in trouble either. Although I might not have much choice about that…" He shook his head and turned to the spirit. "That's why I asked what you wanted. From what it sounds like, you're the one who'd actually be doing all the work. Are you certain there isn't anything you want?"

Diarmuid stared at him, then slowly started to laugh. "Oh, I assure you, my lord, my wish has almost certainly been granted already!" He clutched his stomach and laughed loudly while Harry watched him in surprise. "If there were anything else I wanted, it might be the chance to engage in honorable battle with worthy foes," he sat straighter and looked at Harry with a pleased, cat-that-ate-the-canary-grin, "for my lord's pleasure, of course."

"So," Harry said slowly, "you'd want to take part in this war...just so you could fight other resurrected Heroic Spirits?"

"It would be a chance unlike any other!" Diarmuid said gleefully. "Of course, whatever my lord wills, whether to go after the Grail or not, I will dedicated myself to wholeheartedly."

Harry stared at him incredulously, then looked away. He'd never seen anyone with such dedication in their eyes without any idea what they were dedicating themselves to. It wasn't as if he had any plans! His only desire for this world was to live quietly and unimportant, and maybe figure out how the weird magic here worked, and he'd just ruined any chance he had at that!

Right...he probably couldn't go back to Clock Tower after what happened.

"I guess… that's as good an idea as any," he said softly, staring up at the sky. He just noticed that it was close to dawn and the stars were disappearing as a golden tint bled through the indigo night.

"Idea, my lord?" Diarmuid repeated with a curious tilt of his head. "Do you mean to take part in the Grail War?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I mean, I don't particularly care about the Grail or a wish, but if you want to fight Heroic Spirits," Harry looked over at the spirit, "then that's the only way to do it, right?"

Diarmuid's eyes widened slightly as he stared back at Harry, then he laughed eagerly and jumped up from the bench with his arms raised to the lightening sky. He turned to face Harry almost as soon as he got up and fell to his knee, head bowed low.

"I vow to you, I shall show you the greatest heroics of an honorable Knight!" he declared. "You shall rejoice at witnessing new legendary battles in this Age of Man!"

"Uh… right." Harry took a deep breath. "Alright then." He looked around, they seemed to be in a park, Hyde Park? "Then, I guess, do you have any idea where Fu-yu-ki is?"

Diarmuid looked up from his bow. "Fuyuki?"

"Yeah… Archibald called this the 'Holy Grail War of Fu-yuki' so," he shrugged, "I would guess that's where we're supposed to battle, right?"

Diarmuid's brow creased. "Yes… I believe that is, I-" his eyes widened. "Now that I think of it, the Grail gave me knowledge of a city called Fuyuki. It is in a country called Japan."

"Japan?" Harry said incredulously. He clapped a hand over his face, knocking his glasses out of the way. "Of course. It couldn't be down the street or anything. It would have to be on the other side of the world," he muttered under his breath.

"My lord?" Diarmuid looked up at him, still kneeling. Harry sighed.

"Alright then. Quit kneeling," he waved at the man, his Heroic Spirit. "First step then is going home and packing some clothes and such. Then, we're gonna have to buy plane tickets to Japan." He made a face. "Two tickets is gonna be a problem…" He knew he didn't have enough money, but after messing with Lord Archibald, he didn't think using magic to get a ticket was a good idea.

"If you need, my lord," Diarmuid spoke up. "I could revert to spirit form while we travel. You would not need to purchase a ticket for me in that case."

"You can do that?" Harry turned to him in surprise. Diarmuid nodded with a smirk, then dissolved into the air and vanished. "Bloody-!"

"Be at ease, my lord."

Harry jerked when Diarmuid's voice, clear as a bell, sounded from inside his head.

"I am only in spirit form, and we can still speak thru the bond between us."

Harry frowned and looked around before closing his eyes. "Like...this..?"

"Just so, my lord!"

A chuckle reverberated between Harry's ears, making his head itch from the inside. "Okay… Right. Well, this is weird, but...I think it'll work."

"Then, shall we be off, my lord?" Diarmuid's voice still held an edge of laughter. Harry wondered if the spirit was enjoying Harry's clueless reactions to everything that seemed normal to him.

"Yeah. We'll just stop at my place and then… the airport." Harry felt nauseous just thinking about it. He really hated airplanes.

AN: This story is going a bit slower than I planned it to. Oops! Part of that is I'm getting distracted by another fandom (that's almost always my problem) and part of it is how unexpected some of the responses to the story have been. XD It's been a long time since I wrote an anime crossover, and those tend to have a lot of superpower tropes, but dear god, I didn't know how much they were expected! It's kind of cracking me up honestly.

So, to everyone worried about Harry being an under-powered little wimp-don't. He'll be fine. But to everyone worrying about Harry being gay-DO. He's is going to be the gayest little wizard ever. :D

To everyone else, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy my slow-ass updates!