Matou Shinji and the Philosopher's Stone
A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story
Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.
Summary: Ladies of Eternity, magi of the past hiding in the present, with ancient, nigh crafts at their command. That is the destiny of a Witch in the Moonlit world, with the female child of a witch bearing the destiny of inheriting the blood and history of their line without any exceptions, upon which the mother will expire, her task done. But this is a story of a Witch's son – a boy tossed aside by destiny – a boy determined to become someone special, with blood, sweat, and wand. This is the story of Shinji Matou, and his newfound path in the Wizarding World.
Chapter 5. Stranger from a Distant Land
In future years, Matou Shinji would describe the three most memorable moments of his first visit to Mahoutokoro as his first glimpse of the city, the visit to The Dust Pile, and the encounter with the miko who ran the Root of the Sky and warded the city itself.
The rest was largely a blur, the hours spent waiting for his wand to be finished filled with retrieving the rest of the supplies on his Hogwarts list: books, school uniform, and the other miscellaneous goods that were required.
Despite the bookseller's unfriendly attitude, Shinji had been sorely tempted to return to the shop to buy the tome titled Becoming a Shadow, as he could see how that the arts described in that book could be quite useful. The ability to hide things he did not want others to find – and to find things others wished to keep secret – was powerful, and personal invisibility – well, he could see any number of applications of that, especially if such a spell wasn't immediately detectable by those who could sense and use prana.
Given the condition of his remaining funds (which his chaperone had oh-so-helpfully informed him would be just enough to cover his required purchases – if he bought everything new, which she recommended), he had briefly entertained the notion of buying secondhand equipment so he could afford the tome.
Very briefly.
He'd quickly dismissed it as impractical; given that he was going to be a stranger in a strange land, first impressions mattered more. He'd seen it before when he'd studied abroad: people would judge him based on how he looked, how he presented himself, who he talked to – even if unjustifiably, as an exchange student would have little knowledge of local traditions or social structures.
And he'd seen too often how some pitied foreigners, or gave them some aid just so they could make those around them believe they were wonderful people, as if they didn't calculate every advantage, didn't enjoy having a foreign conversation piece for their circle of friends.
It had happened to him before, and he hated it with a passion.
He couldn't stand pity, couldn't stand those who only helped others for their own benefit, using them for their own gain without even having the decency of being honest about it. No, they wanted to be seen as benefactors, as friends, or even as martyrs, an investment in social standing that could be cashed in for who knew what favors. Obligation, manipulation – oh, he understood these things himself, even used them, but at least he was honest about it.
That was simply the way of the world that the strong would always prey upon the weak. His first example of this, his grandfather, had demonstrated this in a somewhat more…literal method than was usual in polite society, but he as hardly alone in the practice.
Matou Shinji might be accused of being many things, but he wasn't blind, or naïve; he knew the only reason he was being aided by Matou Zouken was because the monster thought he might yet be of some use. That said, however, he was not foolish enough to think that turning down what assistance he received would be a good idea.
Why, if he'd had to pick up everything in Magical London, not knowing of the traditions of the world of witches, gaping and staring as he had done at Mahoutokoro, he would have been thought of an incompetent, half-barbaric foreigner.
An object of pity with no magical parents left alive, according to the letter.
A charity case.
Helpless.
Yes, helpless, a word he resolved never to be. Having been granted this opportunity, he was going to make the most of it, to become one of the strong.
Such was his resolve as he went through the motions of selecting his new supplies. There would be nothing but the finest for him: robes crafted of silk of giant spiders, enchanted to grow with the wearer (so long as the new owner infused it with a few drops of blood to "synchronize" their growth rates), custom fitted wyvern-skin gloves and boots, shiny new cauldrons, books in the most accurate Japanese translations, and other such.
After all, he was tired of being treated like a worm.
What he wanted…what he wanted was to be recognized as great, to have his name and face known and feared wherever he went, to walk the world, to learn the forbidden, to become a magus none would dare trifle with.
…someone much like Aozaki Touko, now that he thought about it.
He couldn't aspire to become a Magician - True Magic was out of the question and he knew it, no matter how ambitious he was. Nor did he want to become a monster living in a basement like his grandfather – Matou Zouken was certainly powerful, but he hid from the world, having become one with his familiars.
But someone like his red-haired chaperone, a master of her craft – and a genius researcher – she was someone he could aspire to.
She did not suffer insult, but neither did she intimidate for the sake of intimidation. She was competent, recognized, feared. She had a younger sibling she no doubt compared herself to, but had made her own path.
And perhaps what made her most grand in his eyes was that she did not pity him. Though she was as far beyond him as he presumed Zelretch was beyond even her, she didn't look down on him or give him special treatment.
She taught, certainly. She casually dropped insults. She guided and led.
But she had not pitied.
He could tell, since everyone else in his life seemed to pity him – either that or consider him worthless.
When she had shown him to the best shops, helped him bargain and get the best deals, introduced him to the best crafters, the Aozaki magus hadn't been doing anything special. She had taken him here, shown him these places because they were places she knew and frequented – and because of course, his grandfather was probably paying a rather hefty sum for her services.
All of which meant he was being treated as a client, not a charity case; a potential colleague, not a worthless waste of resources who had only escaped the worm pit because his mother had simply let Zouken kill her in his place.
Sometimes he thought he would have rather died than live on like this; he knew not how twisted he would have become, how desperate if the Hogwarts letter had not come.
But come it had, and miracle of miracles, his grandfather had thought he might prove useful, offering him a gift for the first time in his life: a wand and the services of a knowledgeable guide to the moonlit world.
To be honest, he'd feared that whoever his grandfather sent would be a friend of the Archmagus (and thus, an inhuman monster in his own right) who would grudgingly show him around as a favor for Matou Zouken, all the while asking intrusive questions. Perhaps he would wonder aloud why a scion of the Matou line had no experience with the basics of the moonlit world, or indeed, had been forced to become a practitioner of witchcraft?
Aozaki Touko had done none of these things. She might well be a monster in a very pleasant to look at human skin, but she had taken his admission that he was to learn witchcraft without comment, save for mentioning how it was suited for Eastern traditions. Over the course of the trip, she had been frank, professional, and reasonably courteous, taking the time to explain the history of Mahoutokoro and anticipate his questions.
In short, she'd simply done her duty – which was more than Shinji had dared to hope for.
Every other magus in his life, be it the Second Owner of Fuyuki, the person who had supplanted him as heir, his grandfather, or, being generous, his father, had treated him as if he was nothing, the lowest of the low. Anything they gave him was a favor, or a gift, when they bothered to give him anything – any time at all.
He might as well not exist in their eyes.
In Touko's eyes – in the eyes of this great magus, he was no different from anyone else starting out on a path.
And for that he was grateful, almost pathetically so.
'...perhaps she would take me as an apprentice?' he wondered, but shook his head. They'd known each other what…one day now? And he wanted to become her apprentice because she hadn't pitied him?
Somehow he thought she would laugh, at best, especially since he was heading off to Hogwarts in a matter of months, and what use was an apprentice who didn't perform even the basics of thaumaturgy?
Yet.
Couldn't perform the basics of thaumaturgy yet.
He still had the better part of two months; he could shape a new image for himself in the far and distant land of Britain. After all, if he were not the only one who had no idea that he could even practice Witchcraft, then…could he not establish himself as an exotic spellcaster from the East who was already proficient in his native Art?
…yes, this had possibilities.
He would have to prepare himself – to learn, to apply himself as he had never done before, even during his studies of the Matou craft, since then he'd already been aware that what he was attempting wasn't possible. Now though, what he was attempting was possible. If he could master – or at least become competent in – even a few spells from the Onmyoudou tome, he could be the wolf among sheep.
…and maybe, if he learned enough from Hogwarts, blended the arts of East and West, then Aozaki Touko might take him as an apprentice.
For the first time in a long time, Matou Shinji smiled.
He had a goal – and as insane as it might sound to anyone else, insane as it might actually be – he had a path towards achieving it.
The rest of the time passed in a blur, though even with all the shopping, he and his chaperone managed to return to the Root of the Sky at the prearranged time – and without being overly burdened, to boot. While the robes and cloak – even the casual wear – might have been fine, Shinji had had no idea how he was going to transport a cauldron, book, scales, a telescope and other such.
He certainly wasn't going to carry them all like some beast of burden, or take them back with him on the train to Fuyuki.
That would be the equivalent of screaming "Enforcers, I'm trying to tell the world about Magic. Please kill me now!", or implying that he was homeless – both of which would ruin his reputation. Honestly, given that he'd considered death, it was hard to say which one was worse for Matou Shinji.
At that point, Aozaki Touko had helpfully mentioned that most shops at Mahoutokoro offered delivery, if it was inconvenient to take them now – they just didn't usually mention them for young students, since most who came here were going to be students at the nearby school. She then went on to mention that if one had a Prime subscription and was shopping at one of the "Amazon" affiliates, it would even be reasonably fast.
Since he didn't have that, it would be somewhat slower, but given the prices of what he'd purchased – nothing but the best, after all! – it was offered, and a week wasn't too long to wait.
Which brought him at last to the Root of the Sky.
Retracing his steps, he strode over to the establishment and opened the door, only to find it empty, save for the catalysts and goods he'd seen the first time.
There was no sign of the miko. No sign of his parcel. No sign of his wand.
…and it had already been three hours.
'what.'
"That's what I was afraid of," Touko sighed as she entered behind Shinji, closing her eyes as she noted the decided lack of the store's proprietor.
Shinji froze at those words.
'No.'
No. It couldn't be true. She couldn't have left. The shopkeeper couldn't have just vanished.
"She's gone. Again."
The certainty in that exasperated statement was the last straw.
Thump!
Had he shrunk somehow? Aozaki-san seemed taller now. Oh. He was on his hands and knees. When had that happened?
Ha. Haha. Hahaha.
The world was spinning.
Somewhere in the background, he thought he could hear his hopes and dreams being dashed to the ground. His wand. He didn't have the money for another one. He was sure his grandfather wouldn't pay for another.
He couldn't go to Hogwarts without one.
No. Please.
Aozaki Touko made no move to comfort him, just frowning as she checked the time and shrugged.
Figures. It isn't her future at—
And then the door opened – the door to the back of the shop.
"It is finished," a familiar voice pronounced – the voice of a rather solemn Matsuo Hijiri, who moved slowly, gracefully across the floor. The miko knelt before the suffering boy, lowering her head as she offered him a wooden case of some kind.
After a while, Shinji realized that someone was in front of him and looked up to see the young woman who had agreed to craft his wand. The one he thought vanished.
The one proffering him a wooden case – a case of a dark reddish-brown wood, with silver chasing.
Trembling, the Matou boy – for a scared, nervous boy he was at that moment – reached out, his fingers barely managing to undo the latch and open the case.
He inhaled sharply at the sight within: a wand.
A sleek, elegant looking thing of solid weeping cherry, a tapered rod 28 centimeters (11 inches) in length, with a pleasing golden glow offset by black traceries burned into the wood, reminiscent of the patterns on cherry bark and a twisted base that could hook around his fingers, for a makeshift handle.
"Eleven inches, Weeping Cherry with custom core, unyielding," Matsuo Hijiri said quietly, her soft, hypnotic voice commanding the entirety of Shinji's attention. "Your wand."
He touched it reverently, fingers tracing its length almost sensually.
"Take it," the miko intoned quietly. "See how it fits you. Wake the power that sleeps within you and channel it."
Following her command, his fingers curled around it and lifted it from the box. Somehow, in his hand, it felt right, as if it had always belonged there.
And with a swish…
Darkness fell over the shop, extinguishing all light.
"Kai!" a voice commanded, and the darkness receded, with Shinji still on his knees, blinking as the miko, who had dispelled the night with a single word.
Matsuo Hijiri handed the boy the box for his wand, critically studying him for a long moment.
"I was right. That wand is one of the most powerful I have ever crafted," she murmured. "A wand born from the power of wishes, tainted by the darkness of mankind, bound into reality by the immortal weeping cherry of Mahoutokoro itself. An appropriate wand for one who wishes to become anything but ordinary."
Shaking her head as if clearing her mind of cobwebs, she levered herself upright, glanced over at the red-haired magus who had simply looked on, bemused.
"Yes, Touko, what is it?"
"Could you at least leave a note if you're going to be late next time?" the Aozaki replied sardonically. "Matou here almost – well, did have a breakdown."
"Hmph. Crafting is a fine and delicate art," the miko answered impassively. "And sometimes, it takes longer than one thinks. Especially with such unusual materials, when one is resolved to make nothing but the best. You should know that, Touko. You're a maker of things yourself."
"Only when I want to be. I don't take requests, unlike yourself - maybe that's why I'm never late on delivery, as you so often are. Or gone so much of the time."
"Yet, somehow, you've never complain when you get the final product," Matsuo Hijiri smiled, gesturing at her establishment. "Whether I make it for you, or find it from the least expected places."
"…hard to when its her credit from the Association I'm spending, after all."
"Should you really be telling me this?" the miko asked, raising an eyebrow. Then she shrugged. "Whatever, money is money, I suppose."
Touko only laughed, a warm sound that echoed in the room.
On the way back, Aozaki Touko showed the Matou boy how to use Mahoutokoro's warp points, nexuses of force that shot them across the geofront, hurtling them back towards the ledge from which their journey had started.
And for the first time in his life, Matou Shinji…flew.