A/N: Thanks to Shadowz101 for inspiring this chapter in our conversation. Our favorite murder-loli needs more love. This is the newest chapter as of March 27, 2018.

Chapter 8: Illyasviel von Einzbern

December, 1986

Harry and Illya stalked down the empty corridors in the Clock Tower one Friday afternoon seeking their next victim. Their reign of terror had continued unabated for nearly three months now, and they had no plans of stopping. They had already completed their obligatory big prank with Irisviel, having resorted many mineral samples from the Department of Mineralogy during their lunch break, and were now going after other prey.

"So," Illya started with a smile, "who are we pranking this time?"

"There's this stuck up magus, a real jerk, who needs to loosen up a little," Harry replied.

"Ooh, who is it and what are we going to do?" Illya was jumping up and down in excitement.

"Well, I'm not sure what his name is- it's lord something or other- but we are going to go to his workshop and mess with it!"

Illya stopped jumping and nervously said: "Uh, Harry? His workshop?"

"Yeah, we'll go in and rearrange everything just like we did to the mineralogy department earlier. It'll take him weeks to get it all back to normal again, it'll be great!"

"Um, Harry, my papa said that you should never go into another magus' workshop. It's not safe."

"Huh? But I go into Alt and Lorelei's workshops all the time! Don't worry, it's not a problem."

"But won't he get angry with us?"

"Sure he will, that's the point. Not that he'll ever know it was us. Besides, he's stuck in a class right now and won't be back for at least an hour, and we are here."

The door was pretentious. It was a deep mahogany and covered in gold. There was a nameplate next to the door, but it was too far up for the children to read easily, so they didn't bother doing so. Testing the handle, they found the gaudy door to be unlocked. It swung open revealing a rather cluttered workshop. Despite the room being large, there was very little open space as it was filled with shelves, tables, desks, benches, cabinets, counters, and all sorts of furniture. Almost everything was completely covered in materials and notes. However, despite the seeming disorder, it was clear that this was a meticulous person who likely knew exactly where everything would be located. The perfect target for this prank.

Harry immediately stepped through the door and walked over to the closest desk. It was covered by stacks of papers so, feeling cheeky, he cast one of the few pieces of magecraft he had learned. It was a simple spell, a cantrip really, one taught to him by Lorelei to acclimate him to opening his circuits and calling upon the element of wind. The spell was nothing impressive, with his level of skill it used a tiny amount of prana and caused a gentle breeze to briefly form before him, an electric fan would have been far more effective. A minor mystery which only required a single word, závan, however, against haphazard piles of loose papers it was devastating. (A/N: závan is Czech for "gust". Harry will be using Czech when he uses magecraft.)

The papers went EVERYWHERE. A white flurry that quickly blanketed everything within several meters of the table in a coating of paper. It would take hours to reorganize the mess. Giggling, Harry moved on to his next target. This time instead of simply blasting it everywhere, he carefully swapped sections of the piles of documents, making them appear untouched but actually being completely out of order.

Seeing the apparent lack of danger, Illya also entered the room. She headed for a nearby counter upon which rested many vials of colored liquids. Clambering onto a chair to reach them, she carefully unscrewed their tops and used a dropper to mix some of them which created interesting and colorful designs and likely ruined their contents. One of them even caught fire and had a small candle-sized flame merrily burning above it! Looking around carefully and seeing no reaction, Illya concluded that it was safe as Harry had said. This would be their best prank yet!

When she was halfway to her next target, beakers which were full of a strangely metallic-looking liquid, she froze. Not because she heard or sensed something, but because she suddenly could not move her legs. Looking down she saw a silvery glow emanating from underneath the layer of paper. She had walked into a magic circle without even realizing it!

"Harry!" She cried, starting to panic. "Help!"

He looked over from where he had been diligently reorganizing a desk, saw her predicament, and raced over to help yelling: "Don't worry Illya, I'll get you out!"

Just before he could reach her he smacked into what seemed to be some sort of invisible force-field which let out a ringing GONG sound. Dazed, he stood back up and, upon putting his hands on the barrier, jumped as there was a loud BANG followed by a softer click. The door, which they had left open, had just slammed shut and locked.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, NO!"

Running over to the door, he tried to open it but it would not budge. Running back over to Illya, he pounded on the barrier but it did not yield. She had tears in her eyes now and looked very frightened. Harry ran around the workshop, frantically looking for something that would help. Anything that would help. He had only barely begun learning magecraft, nothing he knew would be of any help here. Harry ran around desperately trying to figure something out and doing his best to avoid panicking at the sound of his friend crying for help, then he heard a soft click and quickly hid himself.

The door opened with an ominous creak and a tall blond man with green eyes and an unpleasant face strode in. "Well, well. What do we have here? Thieves? Vandals? Spies?"

He strode over to the circle in which Illya was trapped, effortlessly reached through the barrier grabbing her chin and making her look up at him. "Oh my, how lovely," he said while examining her. "An Einzbern homunculus. Even better, a model I haven't seen before. Thank you for donating yourself to me, you will make some most excellent research materials."

Illya was scared out of her mind. She was trapped and unable to do anything with a monster hovering over her. Tears were gathering in her eyes; she was too young to be dissected! Fortunately, Harry hadn't been caught and he was behind the man doing something. Then the man spoke again.

"Oh, what is it you keep glancing at? Is it the other who is trapped in here?"

Turning around he saw Harry standing on the desk behind him, frozen. "Wonderful, more materials for my experiments. I was running out."

Taking a few steps over to Harry, he grabbed him by his collar and picked him up. "I do wonder what sort of secrets your body holds; what discoveries will I make when I cut you open?" There was a manic gleam in the man's eyes.

"None, because you are going to let us go." Harry said as he brought his right hand out from behind his back and stabbed the scalpel he had just picked up into the hand that was holding him up. The man howled in pain, dropping Harry and clutching at his injured hand as he teetered back a few steps.

"When I get ahold of you I'm going to…" the unpleasant man didn't have a chance to finish his threat as Harry body-slammed himself into the already unbalanced man causing him to fall backwards into the circle that held Illya. There was a flash of light followed by the sound of breaking glass and Illya was free. Neither of them knew exactly how it happened, perhaps the circle had a bad reaction to the man's blood, but it did not matter. In his arrogance, he had not relocked the door after entering his workshop. They darted towards freedom and were almost in reach of the knob when suddenly there was a silvery wall in front of them.

"You must be stupid to think I'd let you go that easily," he said, slowly standing with his bloody hand stretched towards them. "You cannot escape my Volumen Hydrargyrem."

Searching for the source of the silver liquid that now surrounded them, Illya found that the beakers she had been approaching earlier were empty.

"You brats must really think little of me, Lord Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald, to try and pull something like this. Did you really think I wouldn't have any defenses on my workshop? That I wouldn't have an alarm that let me know that there were two intruders in my sanctuary?" He walked towards them slowly, hair disheveled and hand dripping blood. "Oh yes," he continued at their surprise, "I knew there were two of you from the very start. It was clever of you to enter when I was in class and also clever of you to make a mess of my research so it would be hard to determine what had been stolen, but not nearly clever enough. Who put you up to this? Which of my enemies do I need to see suffer?"

Harry stepped forward and answered in a small trembling voice, "No one. We d-did this ourselves. As a prank and nothing more. Let us go and w-we'll promise that we will never bother you again."

"A prank? Do you think me a fool! No, there will be plenty of time to force the truth out of you later and then get my due. Now come, we have work."

The silvery liquid, volumen what's-it-called started contracting around them. Harry and Illya huddled together, terrified, when suddenly with a great BOOM the door was ripped from its hinges and shredded by a concussive burst of air. The quicksilver surrounding them rippled, and then was violently blasted away freeing the shivering children. Before them stood Lorelei, the indomitable Queen of the Clock Tower, her crimson eyes boring into Kayneth's green. He shrunk back involuntarily.

"A-ah, Lorelei," he started while attempting to regain his composure. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"These two are under my protection, an attack on them is tantamount to an attack on me."

He gulped, "Ah, but you see…"

"I can see perfectly well. They are mischievous pranksters who got in over their heads because they are children and didn't know any better. Rest assured, I will be disciplining them for their actions. However, had you hurt even one hair on either of their heads, you would be nothing more than a bloody smear on the wall. Come Harry, Illya."

Lorelei turned and strode down the hall, Harry and Illya running to catch up to her. They glanced back at the terrifying man once or twice before leaving and found him collapsed on the floor with shivers wracking his frame. Lorelei was terrifying.

They walked in silence back to the workshop. Upon entering, Lorelei closed the door and turned her disappointed gaze upon them. "I expected better from you. I have been lenient towards your antics as it wasn't causing much harm, and this place is in need of a little excitement. However, you went too far today and were very fortunate that I had a tracking spell on you, Harry. If I didn't know exactly where you were you were or what you were up to, it may have taken days to hunt you down. Can you imagine what Altrouge, Arcueid, or Kiritsugu would have done if that had happened? There probably wouldn't be a Clock Tower any more.

"Now, punishments. Oh yes, you didn't think you would get off lightly did you? Illyasviel von Einzbern, you are hereby banned from the Clock Tower for the next six months. Harry James Potter Brunestud, you are hereby placed under house arrest for the next six months. While within the Clock Tower you are not allowed to leave the premises of your workshop."

Harry and Illya both began to talk at the same time, creating an almost incomprehensible babble about the unfairness of life. Lorelei waited a minute, then bent the winds around them and forced their mouths closed. "I was not finished. Yes, you may feel that these punishments are unfair. I understand, I was your age once. But they are for your safety. While Kayneth will likely not go for you himself, out of his fear of me, he is likely to push some of his associates into doing something. Having you out of sight and out of mind for six months should give things time to settle down. Now, we have some work to do before Zelretch picks the two of you up."

That night, The Brunestud House, Switzerland

As she lay in bed across the room from Harry staring through the slanted skylight at the stars above, Illya found herself unable to sleep. Her mind kept going back over the events that took place that day. What she could have done. What she should have done. Harry's scary teacher who she had only met a few times. Her punishment. As her mind kept spinning in circles she decided she would not be able to sleep and got up. She slipped through the silent house to the balcony and sat down on one of the chairs, shivering as the cold night breeze cut through her pajamas.

A minute later the door opened again, a whisper of teplo (warm) and the air around her became pleasantly cool instead of cold. Harry sat down in the chair next to her. They sat there together for what felt like hours, watching the stars wheel across the sky. Finally, Illya spoke up in a soft voice: "Your teacher is really a nice person isn't she?"

"What makes you say that?"

"She barely even knows me and she's protecting me. She looks scary but she's actually nice."

"What if she's just doing it because she's scared of Alt?"

Illya shook her head, "No, that's not it, I can tell. She doesn't seem to be the sort of person who would be afraid of anything. Lorelei feels kinda like a hedgehog. All prickly on the outside but kind on the inside." She paused for a moment to think. "I believe papa has a word for that kind of person, it's tsun-something."

"Hmm… I think you are right. She is strict and scary and prickly, but she's nice and cares too. I remember hearing that something happened with her family, maybe she's scared of losing us too even though she does not know us very well."

Illya giggled. "Maybe, but don't let her hear you say that. She'd probably get mad."

"Yeah, we've done enough to make her mad already. No need to give her an excuse to make our punishment worse. By the way, what made you change your mind about her?"

"Her eyes are warm. When she was scolding us she looked scared. She's nothing like grandpa."

"You've mentioned him before and said you thought Lorelei was like him. How is he different?"

"His eyes are cold, lifeless. It's like he's looking at a thing instead of at me. It gives me the creeps." She answered, wrapping her arms around herself. "I like your grandpa much better."

"Yeah, grandpa Zel is the best. Hey Illya, your family is really large right? Do you have any siblings or cousins?"

"No. It may be large, but most of them are homunculi. There are no children at home, no laugher, just cold and impersonal adults other than papa and mama."

"The Clock Tower is like that too. It's why I started pranking them. All these boring adults who are far too serious about everything. Even George, who is only 12, acts just like them. That stuck-up good-for-nothing jerk! I was going to prank him next too…"

"Maybe we can in May after I'm allowed there again. We'll just have to be super careful about not being caught!"

As they began to discuss their plans of righteous retribution upon the poor soul known only as George, Arcueid slipped back inside the house with a smile. It seemed that she didn't need to worry about the two of them after what must have been a traumatic experience. They were recovering just fine on their own.

The Next Morning

While Arcueid was playing fetch with Primmy (using a hefty log), the two troublemakers came over to her.

"So what brings the two of you over here on this fine morning?" She asked them.

"Um, Arc, you're strong right?" Illya timidly asked.

"Yes," she answered with amusement as she tossed the log several hundred meters with no effort, the monstrous Primate Murder loping after it.

Harry looked up at her with determination shining in his eyes. It was quite cute. "Arc, teach us to be strong like you!"

"Oh, you want me to train you?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

"Um," Illya spoke up this time, "because we don't want what happened yesterday to happen again. We weren't able to do anything, but if you train us we will!"

"Very well."

"What?"

"You heard me. Very well. I'll train you. But I will not be going easy on you. So," she motioned with her hand, her face a set in a blank mask, "bring it on!"

"Er, what?"

"Very well, if you do not come to me, I'll come to you. Prepare yourselves!"

She was between them in the blink of an eye, knocked their legs out from under them, and flipped them over onto their stomachs.

"Lesson one: be prepared. Now, come at me."

Arcueid moved back to her original location and waited for them to pick themselves up. As soon as they did, they both charged her, arms cocked back telegraphing their punches from a mile away. They ended up flat on their backs this time.

"Lesson two: when against a superior opponent, do not match strength against strength. Use tactics, misdirection, skill, and cunning to catch them off guard. There are two of you, make use of that. Again."

This time they took a moment to talk before attacking. They split up and attempted to approach from opposite sides. The attack was sloppy and disjointed. Illya stumbled and almost fell, not noticing a large tuft of grass that was in her path causing Harry to reach Arc two seconds before she did. Arcueid moved back slightly and used his momentum to swing him past her and force him to run into Illya. They crashed into the ground.

"Lesson three: always be aware of your surroundings. A misstep like that could be the difference between life and death in a battle. Again."

They tried the same tactic again, but this time were sure to pay attention to where they placed their feet, leading to a much more synchronized attack. It was, of course, not even close to good enough. Arcueid simply maneuvered them into each other's punches.

"Lesson four: always use every tool available to you. Just because I've only been using my hands doesn't mean that you should do the same. Again."

"But Arc, my magecraft isn't usable in a fight yet!"

"And your fists are? Tell me, did you not use a wind spell yesterday?"

"Yeah, but it's not strong at all! It wouldn't do anything!"

"Are you sure about that? Lesson five: be creative! Just because it cannot damage me directly doesn't mean that it can't be used. Maybe if you cast it on Illya as she runs towards me it would give her a bit of extra speed. Maybe you can cast it to send a gust of wind behind you and give you a bit more speed. You asked me to train the two of you, so train you I will when I'm available. Now, again."

Friday July 31, 1987

"Happy birthday Harry!" Illya greeted him as she entered the house, her mother close behind her.

"Illya! You're early," he replied, sticking his head out of the kitchen where he was cooking breakfast.

"I know, but since Lorelei was kind enough to give you the day off we decided to come over early. I've got a present for you!"

"Save it for after breakfast," Altrouge said coming down the stairs.

"Ah, aunty Alt!" Illya exclaimed, launching herself at Altrouge and giving her a hug.

"I hear that you'll all be going to the movies in New York this afternoon," she said, returning the adorable Illya's hug.

"Yeah! But why aren't you coming along?"

"Ah, that's a secret," Altrouge replied, then leaned down and whispered in her ear, "but just between you and me, I have to bake a cake and decorate the house for tonight's party."

"Really?" She asked with a giggle, releasing the vampire from her bone-crushing grip. "Well, in that case I'm sure it will be awesome."

A short while later, after breakfast had concluded, it was time for Illya's present. It was a small black box that, when opened, was shown to contain a simple silver bracelet set with a single garnet.

"It's so pretty Illya, thank you!" Harry exclaimed giving his friend a hug.

She grinned. "Mama and I made it. Put it on!"

Harry did, and was about to speak when he frowned. "My bracelet seems to be pulling me towards something. Is it supposed to do that?"

"Yup!" Illya said with a laugh, bringing out a small box. It contained a matching bracelet which was set with an amethyst. She put it on. "These are paired bracelets, if they aren't too far apart, they will gently pull towards each other like magnets. This way we can find each other if we get separated, they are the symbol of our friendship!"

"That's amazing! Thank you so much!"

"What are you looking at me for?" Irisviel asked. "Illya did most of the work, I just advised her through the process."

"Really? Wow, you're getting really good at alchemy aren't you Illya?"

"I'm just a novice, but I can at least do this much."

Friday November 20, 1987, Einzbern Castle

Illya had a fever. Normally that wouldn't be a problem, but it was her birthday, her eight birthday. She had planned out all sorts of fun things to do with Harry, but now she was stuck in bed in her dreary frigid castle and everything was terrible!

Her door creaked open. She didn't want to see anyone today so she buried herself in her blankets and hid from the world. The person walked across the room and sat on her bed causing it to creak.

"Go away!" She yelled.

"Really? Ok then." The person got up… wait that was Harry! What was he doing here?

She threw off her covers and found his face mere inches away. Illya yelled in surprise, flailing about as she fell backwards, and then he started laughing. Here she was, sick and miserable and not even sure if he was there or just a hallucination and he had the gall to laugh at her.

"I… I'm sorry… wheeze… It's just… giggle… your, your face… It was just so funny!" He said while trying to contain himself.

"You jerk!" She said with a Mighty Pout™. "What are you doing here?"

"You didn't think I'd miss your birthday did you?"

"But I'm sick, and I'm at home in the castle, how are you here?"

"Yes, your castle. I see what you mean about it being a cold and lifeless place," Harry said with a shiver, "but for tonight at least, this place will be different. As for how I am here, we got permission from your creepy grandfather. Grudging permission. You know, that almost sounds like an ingredient in some creepy ritual, 'permission, grudgingly given' or something like that."

"Really? How'd you manage that?"

"I think Arcueid pestered him with her boundless cheer and energy until he finally gave in to save himself a headache or something."

Illya giggled softly before breaking out into coughs.

"Wow, you really aren't sounding good. We brought cake and everything, but can't eat it without you."

"Cake?" Her eyes hardened, determination burning within them. Illya made it all of two steps from the bed before collapsing onto the floor, shivering uncontrollably. Harry tried his best to catch her, but she took him down with her.

"It really is cold in here. It's a bit early, but maybe my present can help you." Harry tried to extract himself from Illya's grip so he could get to his present, but she was proving difficult. Her mutters of "you're warm, stop moving" weren't making it any easier.

Eventually Harry managed. He went to the foot of the bed where left it and brought it over. Whatever it was, was large and contained in a good-sized bag. Harry opened it up, and took out a very large white fur cloak, handing it to Illya.

"For me, really? It's so soft," Illya said burying her face in it.

"Alt and I made the cloak out of Primmy's fur. It's quite big so it'll still fit you when you are older. I even managed to turn it into a minor mystic code by weaving some enchantments into it, kind of like you did with the bracelets." Harry said holding up his left hand upon which sat his bracelet. "The spells use wind to muffle sounds made by the person who is wearing this cloak. Even speech is muffled to the point where it can barely be heard if the hood is up. It's also nice and warm so it should help you in this large and drafty castle of yours."

"Help me put it on," she said, rising unsteadily.

"As you command princess Illya!"

Taking the cloak, he wrapped it around her. It really was quite large- they could probably both fit underneath it comfortably.

"So warm. Thank you Harry," she said, trying to give him a hug but simply leaning against him instead.

"Come, we have much cake to vanquish and a mighty mess to create!" With that declaration, Harry wrapped an arm around her and helped her out of her lonely room to friends, family, and cake.

Wednesday April 13, 1988, Clock Tower

Harry was on his way back to his workshop after lunch when he sensed something odd in the air, a sort of shift in its flow. A resonance that set him on edge. He wasn't sure what it was, but it wasn't anything good. He had sensed similar things before, but they hadn't felt dangerous like this. As he rounded the corner leading up to his workshop, something struck him in the back throwing him across the hall into the wall. The last thing he heard before passing out was footsteps.

Harry awoke in the dark. It was pitch black and all he could feel was his throbbing head, bruised back, and the cold stones upon which he lay. He also felt a sort of buzzing at the back of his mind, a sort of vibration in the air or shift in pressure. It was hard to describe, even to himself.

As he lay on the cold ground his mind cleared and the buzzing was easier to make out. It seemed that he had been kidnapped. By whom, and for what reason, he could not tell. Most likely it was to get to Lorelei in some way. There were plenty in the Clock Tower that disliked her, particularly since she had become a dead apostle. But not many actually knew of his relationship to her, especially since he had been careful around other magi after the Archibald incident. Perhaps he, that sour-faced blond man who called himself a lord, had something to do with it. He did know of Harry's ties to Lorelei after all, and seemed the type to hold a grudge.

Harry stood up with a groan, his aching muscles protesting his stay on the cold hard floor. Feeling around, Harry found himself within a small closed area. There was a bucket and what seemed to be a wooden bench and nothing else. An iron door, complete with bars, blocked his exit. It seemed he was in a cell of some sort, or perhaps in a dungeon. The buzzing at the back of his head grew louder the closer he was to the door, attempting to put his hand through the bars gave him an electric shock. Sitting down on the bench, Harry began to think.

After some time, he came to the conclusion that the buzzing was his ability to sense magecraft. Lorelei had told him that different magi sensed it using different senses and to different degrees of precision. Because sensing magecraft was a sort of sixth-sense, each person's body interpreted it in a different way. His teacher interpreted it as sound. Different types of sounds denoted different types of magecraft. Air was chimes or bells, earth rumbled, water gushed, fire crackled, and ether whispered. It seemed that his own sense mixed with his developing ability to sense changes in the air around him. He would have to experiment with it later, once he got out of wherever it was he was trapped.

Hours later he woke to the sound of something scraping on the door. He must have drifted off. The bracelet on his arm was tugging gently towards the door. There was a soft click and the door swung open making no sound. Illya was standing in the doorway, just barely visible, with two of her white hairs transformed into lock picks. Harry sprung to his feet and was about to speak when she stepped into the room and put a finger to her lips.

Walking over to him, she looked him up and down before nodding her head and grasping his arm. She removed the great shaggy fur cloak she was wearing, the very cloak that Harry had given her for her birthday, and slung it over the two of them as it was very large.

"Now we can talk," she said.

"Illya, what are you doing here? Better yet, how did you get here?"

She looked at him with a smile, then answered as she started slowly moving forward. "I came early this week and found you to be gone. Lorelei was also gone as she's off on an dead apostle hunt. It took a while of searching around before the bracelet picked anything up, and a while longer before I could narrow it down to a specific location. Using the cloak and the dark of night I was able to sneak in past the guards. It seems that this cloak not only muffles sound, but it also muffles magic as none noticed me. Now, come on. We don't have much time before morning and have to be gone by then."

"Where are we and how did you get past the bounded field on my cell?"

"We are in the Barthomeloi compound, in the dungeons. As for the field, it was child's play. Papa has been teaching me a few things."

They moved in silence after that past other cells, several of which were occupied by what appeared to be dead apostles, up some stairs and into a cellar. This is where their first challenge was. While dark and containing rows upon rows of bottles of wine, there were several flickering torches and a sleepy guard. The cloak might do an excellent job of muffling the sounds they made and obscuring their power, but all it would take was the guard glancing in their direction and their escape would be foiled.

Fortunately for the nervous children, he was both sleepy and engrossed in a magazine and they were able to slip behind a wine rack. Some careful maneuvering between the shelves full of wine bottles and one heart-stopping moment in which the cloak caught on a bottle and almost caused it to fall, and they were heading up a staircase to the ground floor.

"Almost there," Illya whispered, "just a few rooms farther and we'll be able to slip out a window."

True to her word, after passing through a couple of empty rooms that appeared to be storing food and walking down a short corridor they came to a large foyer. The sky was already getting light outside and they could see the distinctive appearance of one of the Clock Tower's campuses not far away (each and every one had a large clock tower reminiscent of Big Ben). While the majority of the research institution was underground beneath the British Museum, many of the actual classes were held in the building they saw ahead of them and buildings like them. A building that posed as a very exclusive college to the rest of the world and, more importantly, was connected to all the rest through a network of underground tunnels.

They were half way across the room when they heard a voice: "And where do the two of you think you are going?"

They froze and saw a teenage boy standing in the middle of the room holding a cane.

"How?" Asked Illya, her voice barely audible over the cloak's enchantments.

"How? Well I was on an early morning walk when I smelled a dog. We do not have a dog. It seems my hunch about there being intruders was correct."

"We were just leaving."

"No. No one intrudes upon our sacred ground, no one makes a fool of us and lives to tell the tale, not even children. Now die."

He raised his cane and Harry felt a ripple or distortion building on it. Shoving Illya to the left, Harry dived behind a couch to the right, and did so just in time. The boy swung the cane down vertically and a massive blade of air passed through the location they had just been standing at.

"Tch. I missed."

Harry looked at Illya who was wide-eyed at their brush with death. He signaled to her and jumped over the couch punching forward saying vítr výbuch (Wind Blast/Detonation). A distortion in the air shot forward, but the Barthomeloi contemptuously raised his cane creating a wall of wind that tore Harry's spell to shreds.

"How pathetic. Did you really think a wind spell word work on me, a Barthomeloi?"

'Rule 17,' Harry thought, lunging forward, 'Do not speak or banter with enemies. It is a fight, not a conversation.'

As the wind wall died down, Illya jumped out from behind her hiding spot to the magus' left throwing the needles she had created out of her hair at his exposed side.

He turned to her with a sneer, "Such simplistic tactics won't work on me!" Swinging his left hand at her releasing a violent maelstrom of wind knocking her needles aside and smashing her across the room.

'Rule 18,' she thought as she attempted to stand up, her vision swimming, 'Opponents that banter are often arrogant and easily distracted. Crush them before they have a chance to take you seriously.' A vicious grin crossed her face as she saw Harry about to strike the unprepared magus. Just as planned.

Rychlý (fast/swift) he intoned, the air suddenly pushing him forward at nearly double his original speed. Bringing his arm back to strike at the Barthomeloi, a swift cast of vichřice pĕst (tempest/gale fist) and he had a swirling ball of air around his fist. The boy noticed Harry's approach at the last second, moving his cane to block his strike. It worked, mostly. The explosion of wind from Harry's fist surprised him and forced him back a step, but did no damage to him or his cane. Changing his grip on the cane slightly, he pushed forward releasing a burst of razor-wind from the mystic code that shredded Harry's arm covering it several large gashes and many smaller cuts, his blood flowing freely.

A swift kick knocked Harry back into one of the couches and the boy strode forward. "A better attempt than the last, but still futile. Tell me," he said, pointing his cane at the battered Harry, "do you have any last words?"

"Yeah, svázat s krev (blood bind)."

The blood Harry had spilled when struck, the blood that was now pooled beneath the magus' feet, surged upwards forming itself into thin ropes. The Barthomeloi boy staggered back, eyes wide in surprise as he was bound in place and unable to move. Illya stood behind him, a dozen needles floating in the air around her. She pointed at him and with the command "strike!" they surged forward on the helpless target hitting various pressure points causing his muscles to lock up and knocking him out.

"Rule 30," Harry started, getting up with a groan.

"Always expect the unexpected in a fight," Illya finished with a smirk.

"Come," she said walking over to him, "we need to get out of here. Someone is bound to have noticed our fight despite its length." The whole fight had lasted less than a minute.

"So what brings you here so early this week?" Harry asked Illya after they had reached the safety of Zelretch's office. Since the Barthomeloi were bold enough to attack him so close to his workshop, he had no doubt that they would have no qualms with breaking into it to reach him as Lorelei was hunting.

"Remember how I told you about that war that's coming up? It starts in a few weeks, mama and papa are part of it. They want me to stay at home in Germany until it's done so they let me come visit early."

"How long will that be? Are they going to be ok?"

"Yeah! Of course they will be ok! Mama and papa are the strongest! They say it'll only take a few weeks, a month at most."

"A month? It'll be a month before I see you next?"

"Yeah, I'll be back again in a month, I promise!"

They spent the rest of their time together that weekend having as much fun as they could, to make up for the next few weeks that they would be separated. They romped through the snowy forests with Primate Murder, exchanged riddles with that strange creature that lived by the lake deep under the mountain, spent time acting out plays in various ridiculous costumes under the direction of Spike the Dragon, learned formalcraft with Altrouge in her workshop, played interesting games that Zelretch brought them from different times and places, and slept together next to their Great Fuzzy under the stars on the porch. On Monday morning Arcueid returned with Irisviel from their trip to Hawaii where they battled lava monsters and attempted to out-drink a certain alcoholic dead apostle ancestor while the three of them tanned. They returned to their lonely castle in Germany and Harry waited for Illya's return.

He waited and waited. The month came and went and there was no sign of Illya. The war was over; he knew that for sure. Apparently that golden-haired jerk of a lord ended up dead while his student survived and was back to pick up the pieces.

Another month passed and he heard nothing. Worry was gnawing at him. Worry for his best friend, his only friend, his Illya. He tried to get through to the Einzberns, but they stayed silent. Arcueid tried to get through to them, but they stayed silent. Lorelei tried to get through to them, but they stayed silent. It was as if Illya did not exist. As if she had never existed. They only ever answered questions about her with a "who?"

There was nothing Harry could do. Something was obviously wrong, but neither he nor anyone else knew what. And there was nothing they could do outside of practically going to war with the Einzberns, which was something no one wanted, although Arcueid was sorely tempted and had to be talked down by Zelretch.

Harry wasn't strong enough. He had thought that he and Illya had succeeded, that they had done what they set out to do when they struck down that arrogant boy. But he was powerless once more.

Upon rediscovering his powerlessness, Harry vowed that he would have his friend back. It didn't matter what he had to do, he would have Illya returned to him. If he had to tear the Einzbern's castle apart stone-by-stone, he would do so. Even if she had somehow died, he would find a way to bring his friend back. He would not be powerless again.

Harry threw himself into his training and advanced at an astounding rate. The years passed but his desire never waned. He would have his Illya back and he would use every tool at his disposal to recover her. Eventually, on a fine summer morning, a new opportunity for growth showed itself in the form of an old man claiming to be Headmaster of the finest Wizarding school in the world.

-End Chapter 8-

Author's Note:

Why Czech? Why is Harry casting in Czech? There are two reasons. First, I believe that this was brought up in a Dresden novel but can't remember exactly when or where, spells should be cast in a language that you either don't know very well or don't use very much. This is to help mentally separate your spell casting from every day conversation. If you use a language that you often speak to cast, you may end up tossing a fireball in your friends face while discussing camping and that would be bad. Shirou casts in English and Rin casts in German for this reason. Second, I have lived in Prague, Czech Republic for 12 years and know the language somewhat (though my sisters know it much better than me). This makes it easier for me to come up with incantations (plus a little help from Slovnik . Seznam . cz)