I, Neolyph, come once again readers to bring you another chapter of A Broken Wizard and a Broken Magus. I'm glad to know that you guys enjoyed last chapter. I was slightly hesitant to take such a dark turn, but it seemed to have turned out for the best. Reviews were very enthusiastic, for which I'm glad. I really appreciate it when you guys place reviews giving high and low points for both the chapter and story. I genuinely do take them into account as I write, not to mention they help motivate me to write.

Review Response Time!

Loll: Lemons are something I'm considering. I've never written one before, so they might be kind of awful if I do write them.

The Last of the order of 100: I meant to write that last chapter, but I had so many ideas I forgot. The agreement they reached is revealed this chapter.

AbaddontheDevourer: In Fate/Stay Canon, Sakura's element is "Imaginary Numbers", which are capable of manipulating spiritual beings. I tried to read the wiki page explaining it and my brain died. For the sake of my sanity, Sakura uses shadows that can harm both physical and spiritual beings because I'm the writer and I say so.

sandmanwake: I hesitate to call Harry "evil". Were I to put Harry on a DnD alignment chart, he'd land on Lawful Evil, but when I write him I'm more aiming for "Magnificent Bastard". Evil, but respectably so. Harry is not a good person, but doesn't kill people without reason, and he always thinks ahead to do it in ways that minimize casualties. He isn't a cackling evil like Voldemort, he just doesn't care who he hurts so long as he isn't close to them. He acts like a good person because he believes that good is pragmatic, he believes that evil only works in the short-term, while good works in the long-term. If you've ever read it, he essentially has the same philosophy as Lord Vetinari from Discworld. Or if that's too obscure, he's simply Machiavellian. He values fear and respect over love, but only if he cannot have both.

AnimeA55Kicker: I'm writing the articles out primarily to show howexactly Harry is destroying Dumbledore with them. You're right though. Unless the article had something significant, I'm going to start summarizing them.

Bonestar: I don't like Magical Girl Anime, so probably not. Harry had no idea how to find the Fae.

Delta8: The Servant's possess Magical Resistance as part of their class abilities, so they're pretty much immune to all but very high-tier Magecraft. The homunculi were specifically designed to be magically resistant, so they could shrug it off pretty easily.

VentXekart: Oh that still might happen. Dudley has been remanded to a mental facility for the moment, but afterwards, child services will be looking to pass him off to his next of kin. Guess who that is? Not to mention with the magical core, he qualifies for late admission to Hogwarts.

MWRANDOM: I've dropped a couple hints as to who Voldemort is possessing. I'm surprised that nobody has figured it out yet. I talked with Arawn though, and he agreed that it was pretty clever.

tlhgeek: I can admire a ruthless character in a story, like Harry, but I don't like excessive gore. I get it if it successfully gets the point across, but after that it's just offputting.

FuZzvKiNgZz: As a sociopath, power is one of the few values Daphne can objectively value. Trust me, the cult is forming.

Sytekh: There you touch upon the primary issues of my story, and trust me, I'm aware of them. I'm pretty much brand-new at writing, so I started this story on a wing and a prayer. I had no clear characters in mind nor any idea as to a plot. Now I'm trying to balance characterization and pacing while juggling plot. Half the plot I write I'm making up as I write it. As you said, we're nine chapters into the arc and we've just gotten to the troll attack. I find difficulty writing certain characters such as Saber or Sakura because I'm struggling to pin down what sort of character I want them to be. I suppose that most of these problems can be chalked up to my simply being a new/bad writer. That this story had gotten as much of a following as it had shows that I'm doing something right, but for the life of me I don't really know what it is. Searching by favorites, this story is listed above the first Herwald von Einzbern story. It has its flaws, but its a hell of a lot better than mine. I'm glad that you're enjoying the story though and are willing to give it an honest critique. Ciao.

warrof: Rin's doing fine. She's a magus prodigy working on acquiring acceptance to the Clock Tower. She doesn't need Archer to protect her.

Chapter 21: A Fateful Voyage

Despite Harry having a good week, certain others were not. Dumbledore's attempts at finding the source of his leak had been largely unsuccessful. He was rapidly running out of suspects. In spite of a thorough use of Legilimency, the Granger girl didn't know a thing about the newspaper articles, even if she approved heartily of the issues raised in them. When that had failed, he'd gone down the list of every student that the Sorting Hat told him might be brave or curious enough to investigate the third floor corridor, to no avail.

That was another thing that irritated him. Some of the first suspects the Hat crossed off had been Harry Potter, Illyasviel von Emiya, and Sakura Emiya, along with the rest of Slytherin House. While he was still keeping an eye on the trio, due in large part to Harry's…peculiar condition, and the two girls because of the oddities of their Sorting, from the way the Hat spoke on them they were unlikely to do something that would draw the ire of their Head of House.

At least he didn't have to mentally search the house with the largest percentage of Occlumency users. That would have been a nightmare, not to mention the risk of a student feeling his probes and reporting him to their parents. There was a limit to how much he could lie to cover his actions, and the use of Mind Magic on children from Pureblood families would not be well received. The two houses he was primarily looking intowere Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. Hufflepuff students were mostly… well... duffers. Something like this wouldn't occur to most of them, they were more likely to march to his office and complain as a group than to use the Prophet to students, however, had the bravery to defy authority and seek out things like the third floor corridor while Ravenclaw students had the respect for academics and curiosity that would drive them to protest student favoritism and school policy.

He was still going down the list, but he was already three quarters of the way through and so far he had no results.

It didn't help that he was constantly being called to stand before the board to answer various inquiries. Malfoy was currently heading the witch-hunt with an air of smug self-satisfaction. If Dumbledore didn't know better, he'd say the man knew something that he himself didn't.

But that thought was preposterous. He was Albus Dumbledore, Greatest Wizard since Merlin and Master of the Elder Wand.

Or, at least, had been.

He was greatly worried as of late. The Elder Wand had not been responding to his magic as well as it used to. The only explanation was that some event had occurred that caused the wand toswitch its' allegiance to a new owner. He couldn't fathom, however, what could have happened to make the wand deem him being "defeated" in a physical fight. Sure, he'd taken a political beating, but the wand shouldn't register that, it only registered when it was taken from the owner without said owner's approval.

Or would it?

Sure, the story of the Peverells stated that the brother with the Elder Wand was killed, but the lore only said that a "defeat", was enough to lose the Elder Wand; it didn't specify physically.

He sighed. If that was true, it meant that one of three people would be recognized as the new owner. Either Lord Ravenclaw, Lord Slytherin, or the source providing the damning information they were using. The two Lords owned the newspaper, but the source was the one passing along the information being used to hang him,meaning that they were likely to be in Hogwarts, making them the prime suspect. He couldn't do much for the first two, but the source was within his reach.

Hmm... there was a possibility that the wand might react if placed in the presence of its new owner. If he could get that to happen, he'd be able to both reclaim his wand and uncover the source of the slanderous material.

He just needed to devise a plan...

Speaking of the two Lords, his other major headache was coming from the Wizengamot, or more specifically, the joint Ravenclaw-Slytherin representative. The white-haired man had refused to identify himself beyond what he presumed to be an alias: Archer. This had drawn quite a lot of complains from the other Lords, but in the end, no matter how much they wished to have the man's real name, they had no legal grounds to question him. He had given proof that both Lord Ravenclaw and Lord Slytherin had appointed him as representative, which was all that truly mattered in the eyes of the law.

He had, of course, attempted to get a feel for the man, but 'Archer' had secluded himself in the private seating area of the assembly reserved for the Founders for the entirety of every meeting, only speaking to criticize a particular politician or proposition, in ways that even he couldn't help but admire.

The man had a tongue that matched the two families he represented. When Dolores Umbridge had attempted to slip some anti-Magical Creature legislation past the Lords, he'd called her back up and insulted both her and her bill in roughly forty-five different ways over the course of fifteen minutes, all under the guise of questioning the details of the bill.

What was worse was that the woman was too dense to realize it, and was understandably shocked when the bill failed by an almost unanimous denial. He remembered it fondly...

Flashback

"So, may I presume from the wording of this bill that it is to regulate any forms of magical creatures? Regardless of sentience or social standing?"

"Yes. That is correct, my Lord."

"I see. Now, since there are quite a few species of magical animals, some with lesser degrees of sentience, would they be covered under this bill?"

"Yes, I suppose, though I don't know why you're pursuing this line of questioning."

"Well, say a magical, humanoid toad had wormed its way into a prominent position? Senior Undersecretary perhaps? Would it be forced to step down from its office?"

"Hypothetically speaking, yes."

A smattering of laughter filled the Wizengamot. Said laughter grew even stronger when Umbridge preened, looking pleased that Archer was pointing out the details of her bill, not realizing that he had been insulting her from the beginning while also pointing out how useless said bill was.

"Marvelous. Just a few more questions then..."

Flashback end

Dumbledore had been pleased; it seemed that this Archer fellow, and by extension Lords Ravenclaw and Slytherin, were not irredeemably would make it easier for him to convince them to listen to him, since with their help he would be able to truly change Wizardry Britain for the Greater Good.

At least, he'd thought that right until he had, assured that he didn't need to monitor the new variable, missed a meeting to attend an "emergency meeting" of the Hogwarts Board of Directors that Lucius Malfoy had called.

While he was attending, Archer had apparently called for the House of Malfoy to be granted a full Lordship and seat on the Wizengamot, in recognition of his, "generous and selfless contribution to improving the economic status of Wizarding England."

With the Chief Warlock absent, the decision to bring the matter to vote fell to the highest ranking official present, Cornelius Fudge. Fudge of course was almost entirely within Malfoy's pocket. The vote had immediately been called. The Light Houses under his guidance did their best to oppose, but between Slytherin, Ravenclaw, the recently-restored Greengrasses, and the rest of the remaining Dark families, the vote passed.

That was one of the things that irritated him the most. The Dark families had defied him. Perhaps they had taken the sudden induction of Lords Ravenclaw and Slytherin as a sign of changing winds. The apparent alliance between the two families and Malfoy just made that all the clearer.

Ravenclaw, Malfoy, and Slytherin must have made some sort of backdoor deal. Everyone knew that the one thing the Malfoy family desired but didn't possess was a true Lordship. They had as much wealth as they desired, but no technical power of their own. Now, they had legitimacy. Whatever the two Lords were getting in return, it must be truly enormous, as with Dumbledore deadlocking the Wizengamot he had no chance of getting a nomination to pass.

So they had removed him from the equation by calling him away to the one obligation they knew he could not pass up with his already tenuous hold on his Headmaster's position.

It was a brilliant political maneuver worthy of Slytherin, but a potentially disastrous one.

With Malfoy sitting on the Wizengamot and the Dark houses rebelling, he'd serve as a rallying point for them. This was nothing short of a polite coup d'état. They were attempting to pull the Wizengamot out from under him! While he was still Chief Warlock!

Though, with the hits his reputation was taking lately, that might be subject to change soon.

He needed to go on the offensive.

-Break-

Lucius Malfoy sat at his dinner table, swirling a glass of wine.

Lord Lucius Malfoy.

Merlin's beard, he loved the way that rolled off the tongue. And all thanks to Potter.

Potter, Potter, Potter. Now there was a name that he couldn't get his mind off, and ironically it was neither his political rival nor the Boy-Who-Lived. It was the obscure twin that had come out of the blue and begun silently overtaking the magical world by storm. He'd been intrigued when he brought the boy for dinner, but he was both fascinated and impressed by the time he left.

The boy had obviously done his research. Not five minutes into dinner, he smoothly segued the conversation to the recent ongoings of the Wizengamot. This of course led him to the absolute tragedy that the Malfoy family did not technically possess a Lordship despite their respect and status.

Why, a family or two with enough weight behind their names could quite easily make that so if they were provided the proper incentive.

And so through intense negotiations, a deal was struck.

He had agreed to provide overt political power and the legitimacy attached to his name in exchange for young Harry Potter providing the Malfoy family with a Lordship and agreeing to a political alliance.

Both sides knew that it would be best to keep their word when it came to one another.

He could spill the beans as to his recent ally's plans and completely ruin them, but then he'd be killed soon after. Potter had enough money and influence to keep sending hit-wizards after him until one of them got while he was confident in his wards, there was…something… about him that unsettled him, even though he hid it. The way he worked, manipulating everything from the shadows, eerily reminded him of the Dark Lord of the beginnings, when he had still been a great tactician and not the half-mad abomination he had become later.

He found it an excellent working relationship, just to his liking.

Potter had delivered on his end of the deal, so it was time for him to deliver on his.

He perused the file he had appropriated through his contacts in the Auror Department, he wasn't surewhy exactly Potter had asked him to acquire this particular file, but he fully intended to find out before he handed it over.

"Nicolas Flamel", it read on the cover.

As he read through the file, he nearly burst out laughing.

That boy was worthy of his titles indeed.

-Break-

Harry was interrupted from writing his Potion's essay by the arrival of Rider, bearing a parchment folder. She handed it over and he opened it up eagerly. When he learned that Flamel was a semi-famous figure in certain Wizarding circles, he took a guess that the Ministry might have a file on him. To that end, he'd asked Lucius to poke around his Ministry contacts for said file.

The fact that the file was held by the Aurors was certainly interesting.

He flipped through it rapidly, searching for any recent information on the man. From the notations in the file, Flamel was some sort of Dark Wizard in league with Voldemort, and was responsible for several mass sacrifices of innocents to fuel dark magical rituals.

The filed looked legitimate, but the problem Harry encountered was that Riddle's memories contained no mention of Flamel, which meant that either Riddle had been Obliviated before his death, unlikely, or that the file was fake.

The details of Flamel's crimes seemed to be accurate, however. Fueling rituals with human souls and magical energy was an established, if distasteful, practice for Magi. The file wasn't detailed enough for him to deduce the exact rituals Flamel had performed, but he had some suspicions. Suspicions, though, were useless when it came to practical Magecraft.

Two questions were raised by this file. The first was who had framed Flamel for working with Riddle, and why. The second was where Flamel was now.

He soon found the solution to the first query when he looked at the details of the case. Due to the monstrous nature of the accused, it had been closed to the public, but had been presided over by the Chief Warlock, one Albus Dumbledore. How the Headmaster knew of Flamel, he couldn't fathom, but it was clear that Dumbledore had lead both the investigation and trial.

This was bothersome. If Dumbledore knew enough of Flamel to have him arrested, he might have gained a rudimentary knowledge of Magecraft. Fortunately, it would be only rudimentary, as a proper Magus would kill themselves before revealing the mysteries of Magecraft to an outsider.

It did explain how the old man got the stone though. Such a thing would easily be recovered in a police seizure, had Flamel failed to set up Bounded Fields prior to his capture, or reached a point where he could no longer power them. He just hoped that the man had not left behind research journals or notes,those, even when coded, would hold information he really didn't want Dumbledore to be privy of.

He skimmed through the case notes, searching for the sentencing. If it was death, he had no worries, but if not, he'd have to track down wherever they'd detained the wayward Magus.

And deal with him. His finger tapped a name in the file.

Azkaban Prison.

His Potion's essay could wait. It was time for a field trip.

-Break-

The weather was positively disastrous as Harry and the girls rowed across the North Sea. Well technically, the two Imperiused Aurors rowed the magical boat while Harry and Caster focused on setting up a small Bounded Field to warm the shivering Sakura and Illya.

Harry had initially intended to simply teleport to the island, but it was apparently Unplottable. It could only be found by those who already knew where it is, or by pre-established routes. For this reason, they had found out where the Wizenmagot remanded criminals prior to their shipment to the island prison. Shortly thereafter, they'd arrived at a small dock with a guardhouse on it containing two Aurors playing Wizard Chess. Since these two were obviously the ones responsible for shipping the prisoners to the island, Harry decided that they'd make excellent guides, once given the proper persuasion.

The maids volunteered to stay behind and deal with anyone that came to check on the guardhouse. There weren't any boats scheduled to go to the island for the rest of the day, but it was always better to be safe. It wasn't like they would be needed for a simple trip like this anyway.

The fog was thicker than Orion and Zelretch combined as they rowed through it, obscuring anything more than a foot or so from the boat.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Sakura asked. "When most Wizards speak of Azkaban, it is always in hushed tones. There must be a reason for them fearing it."

Harry shrugged. He had of course read of the Dementors. Voldemort had worked in tandem with them during the first war, and Harry had to admit that they were rather frightening. To counter their rumored aura, he and Caster had placed a magical circle on the boat that would prevent any external prana from entering its area of protection.

"We'll be fine," he comforted Sakura, "I'm not going to let anything hurt us."

"I know; I just don't want you to take unnecessary risks."

Harry sighed. When Sakura was questioning his decision making, it warranted a second thought.

"We have to do this Sakura," he reasoned, "the fact that Dumbledore had this man sent here means that he had some idea as to the man's ability. If he starts drawing parallels between us and Flamel, he might start drawing other conclusions."

"Indeed," Saber agreed. "I speak from experience. If Wizards that glorify Merlin learned of the true power contained in Magecraft, the results would be disastrous."

Sakura saw the logic in that. If the Wizard Merlin was the same as the Magus Merlin, it was for the best that they never learned of Magecraft. She'd heard horror stories from Saber. Even if the Merlin Saber knew tended to use his skills mostly for pranks, the few times he was serious were absolutely terrifying, enough so to warrant caution.

"Not to mention, this is a magical circleI designed," Caster added with a hint of pride, "Hecate herself couldn't cast a spell through this bounded field."

Suddenly, as uneasy feeling overcame the group. It was as if the air was growing colder, and in fact frost was growing on the edges of the boat. From somewhere beyond the fog, a feeling of dread emanated.

Memories flashed before Harry's vision.

A drunk Vernon kicking his prone form in the ribs for not bringing in the newspaper.

Desperately struggling to climb a tree as Marge's rottweiler Ripper closed in behind him, living up to his name as he ripped into his leg and dragged him back down to the ground.

The unspeakable pain of the first few months in the wormpit, silently screaming as the worms burrowed into his lungs and behind his eyes.

The feeling in his garden when he first bit the apple and his very nerves were converted to magical circuits.

His possession by Angra Mainyu, his body moving by itself as it tried to kill Sakura and the rest of the girls.

His subsequent suicide.

A single sound made it through the haze of his mind.

The sound of Sakura, Illya, and Daphne screaming.

The sound of the Servants screaming in his mind.

He tried his best to clear his mind, he reached out for the three girls, to comfort them. The three of them reached out for him as well, trying to reach past their pain. Their fingers were inches from touching one another when blackness overtook them.

Blackness and pain.

-Break-

Inside Sakura's fragile mind, visions flipped through her perception like a slideshow.

She was herself playing with Rin.

She saw her father and Zouken Matou talking.

She saw her mother explaining that she was going to be living with the man from then on.

She heard Rin coldly telling her that it was her duty as a Tohsaka magus to obey her parents.

She remembered the worms.

She remembered the pain.

Kind Uncle Kariya smiled down at her, promising her that everything would be okay.

She watched the worms eat his corpse less than a month later.

She soon joined the worms.

Then Harry joined the worms.

Harry.

She would never deserve him. Some dirty, defiled thing such as herself could never deserve him.

That she was even thinking these thoughts proved she didn't deserve him.

She couldn't even offer him her body, not when he had women like Rider, Caster, and Assassin throwing themselves at him. They were so... womanly, and she was just a little girl. She couldn't compare.

She would never compare.

Harry only stayed with her out of pity.

Pity she didn't deserve.

-Break-

Illya wasn't quite sure what was going on. One minute she'd been sitting in a boat, the next mi-

She was strapped on an operating table, pleading at the dispassionate maids as they cut into her flesh, "stop. please. it hurts so much."

They did not stop.

Two maids passed her in the hallway, carrying something covered by a sheet.

She followed them to an underwater reservoir filled with discarded homunculi. "Live on for us, " they begged her even as they bled out into the water.

Her mother's beautiful face smiled down at her, before morphing into a monstrous visage of the Grail.

She looked down and saw herself riding on her father's shoulders as he raised his gun and emptied it into her mother.

She wanted this to end.

She wanted Big Brother.

-Break-

Daphne's head was reeling. She recognized this feeling. It had been during the trial of her Uncle Crowley, when he'd been escorted into the courtroom by two Dementors. It was the same feeling, multiplied by a thousand. This draining sense of dread. Memories dredged themselves up unbidden, memories of her training under her mother. The beatings, the Cruciatus curse, the dark times in the basement where she desperately held back tears from hunger.

She felt the pain and desperation over and over again. Not even her Occlumency could shut out the pain. She couldn't focus enough.

This was not good.

-Break-

Medusa didn't know what was going on, but she needed to end it quickly. Her well-honed sense for danger had told her that a great threat lurked in the fog, but she had been unsure as to what it was.

Then it had hit her.

She had moved to steer the boat away from danger, relying on her magical resistance to stave off whatever malevolent aura was affecting them. Unfortunately, whatever this was, it was not prana-based. It slipped right by her defenses and penetrated her mind.

The feeling exploded inside her head, dragging back up memories of her life. Memories she had thought long-buried.

Her comfortable life of adoration from the masses being stripped from her by Athena, and her subsequent banishment to the Shapeless Isle.

She sadistically slaughtered all who dared tread on the island in the name of protecting her sisters.

Slowly, she morphed into the monster she was, until she devoured her own sisters before allowing herself to be slain by Perseus out of guilt.

Her summoning by Harry, but failure to notice the signs of his slow possession by Angra Mainyu.

Her failure to save him.

Painful memories played themselves before her eyes like a demented slideshow.

Memories she could not stop.

-Break-

As the ominous feeling approached, Medea opened her mouth to invoke an incantation that would stave off foreign mental influences, but was a second too late as the malignancy slammed into her mind with the force of a cudgel.

Her prided rationality was useless as her mind accessed memories that she had locked away for her own sanity.

She was suddenly forced to think of her idyllic upbringing as Princess of Colchis. Her naive outlook and sweet personality.

It was all corrupted by Aphrodite and Jason. She was forced to love him, betraying her father and murdering her own brother for him.

He used her, violated her, and then tossed her away like a piece of trash.

The people decried her as a witch and traitor.

And so she had become a witch and traitor, destroying anyone who crossed her on a whim.

She seduced a young nobleman, convincing him to leave his wife and marry her instead. He loved her so much that he didn't think twice before leaving all of his possessions to her.

It was a shame when he was found stabbed in the back the next morning.

Finally, she met her end, unrepentant and sent to the Throne of Heroes for her infamy.

It was there that she was tortured for her causeless actions.

Then she found a cause in Harry, someone to love, someone to protect.

And he had died right in front of her.

Love was something a vile woman like herself didn't deserve, after all.

-Break-

Assassin's soul was burning. She was unsure as to what was happening, but she knew where she was.

The Throne of Heroes.

Away from her god.

No no no no no no no!

This could not happen! Had she been unfaithful? Had she displeased him?

She knew it. She had failed him.

She was receiving her punishment in this nightmarish purgatory, the same purgatory where she had discovered the nonexistence of her false god, Allah.

Now she had found her true god, Harry, and he had banished her.

She wept.

-Break-

The memories that Arthuria was once again experiencing were... unpleasant. They were memories of her kingship. She was tortured by memories of both her necessary decisions and mistakes.

She callously stood by and watched as her knights stripped a village of its food to feed the army as it marched to repel a barbarian invasion.

She vowed that a king did not show feeling, did not show emotions. She kept this oath for so long that she stopped feeling emotions entirely.

Even when she ordered the execution of her wife Guinevere for having a justified affair with Lancelot, she did not feel anything but resignation. The inevitable civil war led by Lancelot brought nothing but a tired dispassion.

When her own son ended her life, she only felt the crushing failure of her kingship.

As she laid dying on the holy isle of Avalon, she still felt nothing.

Nothing at all.

She did not truly feel again until she fell for Harry. He brought her out of her shell, made her feel for the first time... like a woman.

Then he had died.

And she felt despair.

That despair overwhelmed her mind, crushing her being.

She could only take refuge in unconsciousness.

-Break-

Inside the tentative consciousness that was Panzer, panic was rising up like a tsunami. All had been well, when suddenly it had felt a strange feeling before Master screamed and collapsed. It analyzed the feeling, seeing if it could stem it off somehow.

It was as if the feeling was sentient, streaming through its few memories and looking for unpleasant ones.

Unfortunately, Panzer hadn't possessed consciousness long enough to actuallyhave bad memories. Instead, it only felt a mild discomfort.

Since its Master was unconscious, it stiffened and moved his body back up like a puppet. It couldn't separate from him, as that would leave him vulnerable to attackers.

Next to it, a dark form materialized out of the air.

A very angry Berserker.

The boat shook and nearly capsized as his massive weight stressed the magically reinforced wood to its limits. His Mad Enhancement blocked mental influence of any sort, including that of non-magical origin. There was no room in his mind for anything but madness and loyalty to his Master. When his Master and former Mistress had collapsed, his blood boiled and he'd materialized to destroy the threat.

From the dark fog, hundreds of shadowy figures flew out like a flock of bats. They hovered for a brief moment before diving at the boat in a swarm of misery.

In response, from Harry's armor two elongated whips flowed out and poised to strike. The metallic tentacles were sharp down to the molecular lever, ready to defend their Master from these strange beasts.

Berserker lacked the patience to wait for them to come at him. He jumped to a nearby rock jutting out of the water and used it as a springboard to launch himself at the Dementors.

The soul-sucking beings seemed confused by one of their victims not being crippled by their aura and paused in the air. This proved fatal when Berserker spun in the air and materialized his crude blade. With a single slash, a dozen of them were bisected and dropped out of the sky. The rest quickly overcame their shock and latched themselves onto him. One crawled to his face, even as he swung his weapon at himself, relying on his immense strength to keep his weapon from harming him.

Air distorted as the lone Dementor remaining on him latched himself on the giant's face and attempted to suck his soul out. With a single hand, Berserker crushed the wraith in his fist.

On the boat, Panzer's whips had multiplied to eight as they slashed through the air in a frenzy of razor sharp metal. Any Dementor that came within slashing distance quickly found themselves missing a few pieces.

But it wasn't enough.

For every Dementor they killed, four more flew from the fog. This was their home and breeding ground, and they would defend it to the death. There was also the fact that the souls approaching on this boat positively glowed with misery, and that several of the souls were filled to the brim with power.

Panzer needed to get Master out of there, and there was only one way to do that. Two whips latched onto the oars and began moving in perfect coordination. With the speed of a motor, Panzer rowed the boat away from danger. The Dementors pursued, but Berserker slowed them down by leaping from the various stone outcroppings in the rocky water, each leaps spelling the death for any wraithin his path.

Finally, they passed through some invisible barrier and the Dementors stopped. They had reached their boundary, and while the Ministry controlled Azkaban they were bound to the island.

They'd be back though.

-Break-

It was always strange to wake up in an unfamiliar location, like a beach. Harry tried to sit up, but his limbs felt like lead. With all the speed of molasses, he turned and looked to the right. The girls were all laying on the rocky English beach in various states of consciousness. Illya and Sakura were still out, but Daphne seemed to have dragged herself over to a tree and propped herself against it.

"Are you alright, my Lord?" she queried. She was pale and shaking, but clearly well enough to care for something else than her own well-being.

"To be honest," he replied sardonically, "I've been better."

Mentally, he was beating himself up. He should have prepared for the possibility of the Dementor aura not being prana-based. It was the only explanation for how it had bypassed the bounded field.

"It's alright, Master. If there is any blame to be had, it lies with me. As a Caster-class Servant, it is my duty to advise you on matters of magic. I have failed in that," Caster apologized from her place on his left. Her voice was soft, and held an undertone of self-depreciation that he felt didn't suit her.

"No," he replied forcefully, "it wasn't. We were all unprepared for the Wizards to have a foe such as that. We're going to have to research the techniques Wizards use to deal with those creatures."

By this point Saber had already risen, and was stumbling in his direction. Harry could see on her face how what she'd seen had affected her. Clearly, as bad as he had it, his Servants hadn't come out of it unscathed either.

She looked miserable, a far cry from the usually confident woman he had come to appreciate.

He was about to greet her when a black form suddenly appeared on his prone form. Assassin had come seemingly from nowhere and latched onto him, sobbing into his shirt. He could imagine what she'd seen when the Dementors had attacked, and with great effort put an arm around her to reassure her.

He looked back up to see Saber watching them with a conflicted expression.

"Are you al-" he managed to get out before she wrenched him up into a sitting position and buried her face in his shoulder, weeping uncontrollably.

Sometimes he forgot that out of his heroic spirits, she was the youngest. She'd only been nineteen when she had been killed by Mordred. Most would consider her still a child, even if she'd had the burden of kingship to weigh on her thin shoulders.

He was unsure of what she had seen, but if what he had seen in the dream cycle was any indication, she needed the comfort. He wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her closer. Her grip was uncomfortably tight, but he could barely feel his body anyway.

When he felt Panzer shift in response, he quickly told it to stand down. One of the first things he'd tried to teach it was that it was never to consider the girls a threat, but the lessons hadn't quite stuck. It was like training a dog, sometimes it was a lesson that had to be taught through repetition.

It also made him wonder how he'd escaped the Dementors. In response to his thought, Panzer played its memories of the incident in his head. It really made him glad he'd set it up to act autonomously. Berserker might have been able to fight them, but something like rowing a boat was something he'd be unable to do without direct instructions. He sent positive feelings to let it know that he was pleased by how it had reacted to the situation, and it practically glowed with pleasure. Berserker hadn't reastralized, and was instead standing behind him like a sentinel and scanning the horizon as if he was expecting more Dementors to ambush them.

At seeing his Master wake, he sent a mental question that, while more a feeling than actual words, expressed concern. That such a feeling managed to make it through the whirling maelstrom of anger and madness that was Berserker's mind showed how concerned the giant was.

"I'm fine," he assured the Servant of Madness. Berserker looked at him for a moment, as if to verify the claim, before grunting and going back to scanning the horizon.

By this point, Saber had stopped sobbing, though Assassin didn't seem like she would be stopping any time soon. The former King looked slightly ashamed at her perceived weakness and backed up a bit. He put a hand on her shoulder to comfort her.

"It's alright, Saber. There's no shame in taking comfort in another after an experience like that."

Said Servant looked like she disagreed, but nodded anyway. Harry changed the topic.

"Where's Rider?" he asked, his throat hoarse. He was just noticing how absolutely parched he was.

Saber motioned towards the sea and replied, "She took the boat and went to row the two guards we borrowed back to their station and pick up the maids. She should be back in a few minutes."

Ahh, yes. With A+ Rank Riding, she'd be able to move any vehicle far faster than it was ever meant to go.

"Can you go check on Sakura and Illya? I imagine that with their histories the Dementors hit them pretty hard."

Saber nodded, "Yes, Master."

Slowly, she rose and went the few yards to where the two girls were still lying unconscious. Saber knelt next to them and put her hands on their foreheads

"They seem to be running slight fevers, Master. Are you aware of a remedy for the effects of those foul creatures?"

Harry racked Tom's memories for a counter or cure for the Dementor aura. Honestly, he could use one himself.

Chocolate?

That was the cure for after an encounter with one of the most dangerous creatures he'd ever fought? Chocolate?

He sighed and blamed it on Wizards.

Channeling the Denial of Nothingness, he created a small mound of chocolate bars in front of himself. He picked one up and bit into it before distributing them to the rest. Assassin he had to practically pry off him and force-feed the chocolate bar. It didn't seem to improve her mood as she went back to her clinging.

He supposed that if letting her cling to him for a while would help her recover from the Dementors, it was a price he was willing to pay.

The sound of light coughing alerted him to Sakura waking up. He picked up a chocolate bar and tossed it to Saber, who was still keeping vigil over the two girls. The second Sakura was coherent, Saber fed her the chocolate. It would not best to not let the girl dwell on what the Dementors had shown her.

Illya woke up shortly after, and the procedure was repeated on her. By the time they were done, Rider had come back with the boat and the maids. They immediately sprung out to check on their charges, but Harry waved them off. It had been a trying day and he just wanted to get back to Hogwarts.

The ride back to drop the boat off was silent. Everyone was busy thinking on what the Dementors had shown them.

The sun was setting by the time they dropped the boat off and teleported back to Hogwarts.

Inside their Slytherin dorm, no words were exchanged as they changed into their nightclothes and crawled into bed, shamelessly taking comfort in one another.

All of them eventually fell into a fitful sleep.

-Break-

Dumbledore was tearing his beard out in frustration. He needed to fill this gap in the History of Magic position fast if he was to keep his position, but he couldn't find anyone in the Order that could fill it properly. That would mean inviting an outsider, and that would mean opening up the school to Death Eater infiltrators, or even Voldemort himself.

He was currently flipping through the various applications he'd received after putting an ad out for the position. Unfortunately, most people that specialized in History of Magic were pureblood genealogists and therefore likely supremacists. Most Muggleborns lacked an appreciation for a history they did not see as their own.

A single file finally stood out to him, that of Medea Caster. It looked promising; halfblood, creature heritage, born and raised outside England, and educated at Beauxbatons. High grades in the History of Magic, but rather lackluster in the rest.

Between all of these, it was virtually impossible for this woman to be a Pureblood Supremacist. Those circles would never accept someone with creature heritage, not to mention that they had virtually no influence outside of England.

It looked like he'd found his candidate.

He pulled out a quill and penned a letter to Miss Caster, inviting her for an interview, and gave it to a Hogwarts owl.

And now, he waited.

-Break-

While Dumbledore was sending a letter, Lily Potter was receiving one from her classroom as she graded papers.

Curious, she opened it up and nearly dropped it in shock.

Petunia and her husband were dead, in a family suicide.

Her nephew Dudley was in the custody of Child Services while they did a mental evaluation. Apparently, he was traumatized by the incident. After they were done and he was cleared for release, they wanted to pass him off to his next of kin. That was problematic. She'd be willing to do it, but Dudley was not a wizard so it might cause some problems.

That is, until she read the next part of the letter. Two Aurors had been tasked with investigating the case to ensure that it wasn't Death Eaters indirectly targeting the Potters, and learned that the cause of Vernon's breakdown was a continuous flood of... Hogwarts letters?

Dudley was a wizard?

She supposed it made sense, in a way. Her being a witch meant that magical blood did run in the family, so it was possible that Dudley had inherited it. Had he displayed some latent magical ability that caused the Hogwarts Quill to start sending him letters? From what she'd heard, the quill worked automatically and sent letters to anyone in England that was not on the Hogwarts registry but displayed magic, and would keep sending letters until one was opened. Her own parents had ignored the first few letters until a dozen had arrived on their doorstep and her parents had finally beencurious enough.

Petunia though would likely recognize the letters, and if she didn't want Dudley to be a wizard she might not have opened them. So the quill would have kept sending them...

Even if it drove the recipients mad...

She felt ill.

Why had Dumbledore not stopped the quill?

"Are you alright dear?" James asked as he poked his head in and saw his wife's expression.

Lily stood. "I need to talk to Dumbledore."

-Break-

A soft knocking alerted Dumbledore to a presence at his door, well, that and the intruder wards on the door.

"Come in, Lily," he called out. He loved calling out visitors by name. It was great for image.

A shell-shocked Lily stepped into his office, clutching a letter in white knuckles.

"Is everything alright?" he asked. Lily wasn't usually like this.

Lily paused and as if in a trance asked, "Headmaster, has the Hogwarts Quill been acting strange lately?

He didn't know why she was asking, but he answered honestly.

"I'm not too sure. I haven't noticed it acting up, but any young witches or wizards should have already been invited to the school. Admittedly, I haven't been in the office much in the last two weeks or so."

Without a word, Lily handed him the letter.

He pushed his glasses up his nose and read through it, a frown marring his face.

So the Dursley adults were dead and their son was orphaned.

And he was a wizard.

Well that ruined a few of his plans. He had originally intended to convince the Potters to send Harry back to them for the summer. Voldemort hadn't had a happy family life, so it was important to ensure that Harry didn't either. The only variable between the two should be his own influence if the experiment was to yield viable results.

Not to mention now the Potters would take their nephew in. That was something he wouldn't be able to talk Lily out of; she loved her sister too much to leave her son in an orphanage.

"My condolences, Lily. Would you like leave for mourning?" he asked.

By this point, Lily had broken down crying, but she quickly composed herself and shook her head.

"No, just a few days to settle her affairs and file for Dudley's adoption. Will you arrange for his acceptance to Hogwarts?"

He gave a nod and smile carefully calculated to show kindness and sympathy in equal amounts. "Of course."

Lily dried her eyes, nodded, and left the room.

-Break-

Why couldn't Harry just catch a break? His problem?

Dudley had survived.

He honestly had not anticipated that. Perhaps, in some twisted way, Vernon had genuinely cared for Dudley enough to spare him the slaughter. Either way, giving Dudley a magical core was about to come back and bite him.

He'd have to tread very carefully for his involvement in the boy's orphaning to remain unknown. They'd likely blame it on the Hogwarts Quill, but that excuse might not hold up to greater scrutiny.

The worst part was that his mother would inevitably take the boy in, and he'd have yet another face on his list of people he had to put up a mask around.

And Dudley would likely get sorted into Slytherin.

Now that he thought about it... that was something he could work with. It might be useful to have a scapegoat that few would question. It would just take a few polite conversations for his wayward cousin to come around to reason. His sort of reason anyway.

A positively wicked grin stretched across his face.

-Break-

At St. Brutus' Orphanage, Dudley was sitting in a trance-like state on his thin bed. The doctors and social workers had managed to get him to a semi-functional state, but no further. His only two visitors had been a pair of strange cloaked men, who the adults didn't seem to notice. They had asked him a few questions and pointed some sticks at him before informing him that someone would be by in the next few days to pick him up.

He wondered who it was.

A knocking on his door heralded the arrival of his new guardians. Slowly, it opened and Dudley gulped in nervousness.

The door swung fully open to reveal a family of four. The father had messy black hair and round glasses; he seemed uncomfortable in his suit and tie, as if he wasn't used to wearing them. Next to him stood a woman with fiery red hair and a kind face. She looked around his mother's age before she had...

Regardless, standing next to the father was a slightly tubbier spitting image of him whose face bore the unmistakable sneer of arrogance. To top it off, on the mother's side stood...

Stood...

"Hello, cousin," Harry began with a smile. Dudley gulped once again.

It was not a nice smile