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 unfathomable 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 19. Gifts and Curses

Using owls to carry the post was something of a time-honored tradition in most of the wizarding world – at least in those areas where it was thought acceptable to have an owl. Due to their natural affinity to magic, expressed primarily through their ability to locate witches and wizards without an address (though not Muggles – save if an owl belonged to one – which only served to widen the divide between the magical and the non-magical), as well as their natural camouflage and near silent flight, they were highly valued in this role, as it eliminated the need for wizards to do something as demeaning as spending their lives delivering packages.

Of course, in areas like India, where owls were a symbol of death, or South America, where owls were somewhat rarer, other birds were the courier of choice, falcons or macaws, for example. And while bats had been considered for postal duty at one point in time, their unfortunate tendency to urinate in flight had led to a number of complaints, leading to the reliance on owls.

Though even owl post had its shortcomings, such as the mess they left with their droppings and shed feathers (the reason that the British Ministry had switched to using enchanted aeroplanes for interdepartmental memos) and difficulties with international flight or stormy weather. And of course, as demonstrated by Matou Shinji's use of the Hogwarts School Owls to send a massive number of gifts around the world, leaving not a single school owl for others to use until they returned (and subsequently forcing anyone who had a letter to send – and didn't have an owl of their own – to have a teacher drop it off at the Hogsmeade Post Office for delivery), when there were no owls available, the mail simply would not run.

It didn't help that the weather had gotten rather foul and nasty some days the gifts had been sent out, meaning that Owl Post was temporarily grounded, nor that owls did not take kindly to being forced to travel internationally while carrying immensely heavy/bulky parcels to addresses they did not recognize. Now, in these cases, homing in on a wizard's magic could work just as well – and perhaps Shinji could have been forgiven for thinking this extended to those with powers in general – but there were no other witches or wizards in Fuyuki, regardless of what the neighborhood children sometimes said about Tohsaka Rin.

And after running into an unexpected winter storm, where the poor owls were buffeted by subzero gusts, with some nearly getting killed due to tennis-ball sized hailstones, the owls had made an emergency diversion to Mahoutokoro via the Owl relay station in Dalian, China.

That city, with its long history of being used by foreign powers for its ports, was accustomed to strange occurrences in winter – though to be fair, they had not expected a flurry of feathers and droppings to rain down from the sky during a blizzard, particularly of not those of birds that weren't even native to the area. Still, they'd seen odder things, and the parliament of owls was able to make it to the relay station unmolested, where at the request of the operator, a portal had opened to Mahoutokoro, with the exhausted birds dropping off their many, many parcels in the mail sorting area, before they collapsed from fatigue. The staff had sprung into action, getting the owls to the infirmary and getting the parcels repackaged for ground delivery, moving or placing any new weight-reduction ofuda as necessary.

Given that the mail was not going to wizards or witches, and would require feet on the ground, the mail would not be continuing from the hidden city by Owl Post, but by the kitsune-run division of FedEx Japan, via a long-standing agreement to preserve the masquerade, with any extra shipping charges to be billed to the original sender.

In this case, given the common origin of all these owls and packages – the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry – and the fact that the School provided Owl Post services to its students and staff free of charge, the bill would be sent to the Headmaster.

Needless to say, the eventual receipt of this…unexpected expense…did not make Albus Dumbledore particularly happy when it – and Hogwarts' owls – finally returned to the School.

After a long, roundabout bit of travel, the packages – and the letters accompanying them – did make it safely to Fuyuki, arriving early in the morning, before the sun went up, with the Kitsune efficiently disabling the weight-reduction ofuda once the deliveries had been made. It was standard operating procedure for deliveries for parcels bound for what had initially been listed as "Muggle" addresses, even if the presence of bounded fields around a residence made it obvious that a location was not quite mundane.

The concept of C.Y.A. – or Cover Your Ass – to use the longstanding American term, was not exactly limited to that particular country – or even to the Muggle World.

Thus, when the unfortunate Tohsaka Rin opened her door that morning, there were two extremely large packages addressed to her sitting in her front yard. Or well, half-sitting half-sprawling in the case of one of them, which was quite irregular – and very, very bumpy.

And not only large – they were heavy.

'What the heck is in these?!'

Had Kotomine placed an order for magical equipment using her money or something?

No…from the shipping labels, the packages had been sent by…Matou Shinji?! The fact that the contents had been described as 'Christmas presents' was also a cause for much shock, given that she didn't think he was the type to send anyone a present.

Maybe his studies as a practitioner of Witchcraft had made him more bearable?

There was nothing to do but to open the packages – after all, she had to make sure this wasn't a prank of some kind before bringing them into her house.

The smaller one seemed most promising, since she didn't know what would happen when she opened the big one, and she tore open the wrapping to expose a large wooden chest, its wood lacquered and bound with gold, and which looked for all the world like a stereotypical "treasure chest" – with a letter on top.

Roughly translated, it read the following:

To Tohsaka Rin, Second Owner of Fuyuki,

As Christmas is coming, I thought it only appropriate to send you a humble token of my appreciation, personally acquired after a harsh trial by combat and intensive study of my Art.

Your Humble Servant,

Matou Shinji

. . .

. . .

"What."

Now, Tohsaka Rin could certainly be surprised, but either Shinji was being horribly sarcastic in this missive (as he was anything but humble), or something had drastically changed. She supposed she'd have to open the chest to see, she thought, as its contents would likely reveal his intentions.

After a quick examination of the chest for any strange magic – which she wouldn't put past him. Not detecting any, she undid the fastenings, grunting as she noted the sheer weight of the lid, and threw it open—only to freeze on the spot, her jaw falling open at the sight of rubies, emeralds, and other precious stones of considerable size and unusual quality.

For over a minute, the Second Owner of Fuyuki stood frozen in shock as she looked at the contents of the chest.

Knowing gemstone prices as she did, given its necessity for her more potent spells – the main reason for her usual complaint that magecraft drained her bank account – she calculated that this "humble token of appreciation" had to be worth billions of yen, if the entire chest was indeed filled with gemstones.

…and it was.

Her mouth went dry, eyes widening at this. This…well, she didn't know how big the Matou accounts were, but surely something of this magnitude would have beggared even that old family, something that she didn't think Matou Zouken would be very fond of.

So…maybe he'd come by the wealth legitimately?

After all, the letter had mentioned a trial by combat, and it was true that there were bounties on dangerous individuals – or creatures – sometimes. That was how Enforcers made a living, after all, on top of the meagre salaries the Clock Tower normally paid them, though a bounty of this level only came along every once in a long while – every decade or so.

It shook her though, as something was like was far more valuable than one of the obligation presents people sometimes got others because they had to. Something like this was usually given either to close friends or lov–

Refusing to complete the thought, she decided she'd better get the packages indoors before she did anything further – and set about making it so, a task requiring both self-reinforcement as well as using basic gravity manipulation to lower the weight of first the chest and then the skeleton.

It wasn't something she had cause to use very often – she'd considered it mostly a useful training exercise – but without pushing herself to use both of these, there was no way she could have moved the chest.

As for the other package – well, it wouldn't easily fit through the door, so she opened it to reveal that the extreme lumpiness was the result of what was within being coiled up. She frowned, feeling for strange magics once again, but finding none – though under the wrapping paper, the contents felt almost like bones.

She slowly uncoiled the thing, noting the almost serpentine form it took – and goggled, as whatever it was, was around 8 meters in length.

There were very few creatures in the world like that today – had Matou killed a magical anaconda or something? Was he in South America?

But she dragged it inside, down to her basement, without thinking about it too much. She'd know when she opened it, after all, revealing—

Skeletal legs, extending from main trunk of the body.

And more shockingly—wings.

The sort of which a dragon might have, but which, since the skeleton wasn't leaking prana all over the place, belonged instead to a wyvern.

A wyvern – a very dangerous creature with a degree of magic resistance and aggressiveness, largely sharing a true dragon's form, even it lacked the latter's immense power as the pinnacle of the Phantasmal Species.

And Matou…Matou had mentioned a…trial by combat?

Fortunately for Tohsaka Rin, her scream of "WHAT THE HECK?!" was hidden from the outside world by the thick walls of her basement and quite excellent insulation.

Given his background, it was perhaps understandable that the weary Emiya Kiritsugu was rather suspicious of unsolicited packages arriving at his door, especially one from a Matou. Given their status as one of the three founding families of the Fuyuki Holy Grail War, and his unfortunate interactions with two members of the family during that time – with one dying at the war's end, and one that he had personally tortured for information on his wife's location.

As such, anything from the son of the latter had to be considered suspect.

So, he'd taken the package to his workshop and examined it thoroughly, making sure that there were no hidden spells – or more mundane traps such as explosives, anthrax or the like – within. As for whether the Magus Killer was relieved or disappointed to know that there was nothing of the sort within, just an innocuous letter which talked of how strange it was to be studying abroad again and wishing his adopted son a Merry Christmas, along with…a suit of armor.

A fully articulated suit of burnished bronze plate at that, complete with plumed helmet and a fully functional backsword – but not one sized or designed for a human.

After all, it stood only a meter tall, with the proportions decidedly off from even those of a child. The helmet was pointed, as if to accommodate a long nose; the eyes pieces were positioned oddly, and there were holes in the side around the level of the ear, with rather long flanges serving as ear guards – which, while certainly stopping cuts from above, would do nothing against arrows from the side.

And perhaps most oddly, the design seemed based on medieval traditions, it wasn't made of steel. While ancient cultures certainly had used molded bronze breastplates – which were quite effective against arrows, during the so-called Dark Ages, there had been a switch to mail due to its greater effectiveness against iron melee weapons.

This armor though…

…it seemed to have been reinforced beyond what normal bronze could have handled, and nicks and cuts here and there – some of which had been repaired better than others – seemed to indicate that this suit had once been used. That, as well as the lack of decoration, seemed to indicate that this was not merely ceremonial armor.

But why would the scion of Matou send his adopted son a gift – much less what was undoubtedly an expensive suit of armor? What was the Matou clan's game?

From what he knew, the clan already had an heir – having adopted Tohsaka Tokiomi's second daughter for that purpose—with their original bloodline having grown thin. Matou Kariya, who had faced in the Grail War, hadn't qualified to become head of house, and Matou Byakuya was head in name only. But if Matou Shinji was sending magically enhanced items from the United Kingdom, then perhaps there was something his investigation reports hadn't picked up on.

It was regretful, but if the Matou were going to try to influence Shirou, he'd have to begin training the boy a little more seriously. He hadn't wanted to pass on his craft – had resisted, in fact, because in the end, the power to change the world only led to despair, but it seemed he might have to.

…even if his adopted son had seemed so heart-wrenchingly happy when Kiritsugu finally allowed him to see the gift the Matou boy had given him, saying it was the first one he'd ever gotten from a friend.

The reaction to the packages at the Matou household was more subdued than the extreme shock the Tohsaka heiress had suffered, or the onset of sudden paranoia experienced by Emiya Kiritsugu, but then the members of the Matou family knew where Shinji had gone off to, and the gifts he had picked out—a silver self-cleaning, self-refilling tea set and two mokeskin pouchs— were not exactly extravagant.

Zouken didn't much care if the boy sent him anything, and had directed Byakuya to obtain the two items that Shinji had asked for – the box of green tea and a small tanuki statue. Byakuya proceeded to do so, though looking at the enchanted tea-set, he was struck by a fresh wave of grief and nostalgia that he thought he had put far behind him.

His late wife had once done special things too, once filled his heart with laughter – but after she'd given birth to Shinji—who turned out not to be a magus—Zouken had been most displeased, and had simply killed her for her "failure" to breed a usable heir. She had asked for a second chance, saying that there was never a guarantee of inheritance, but the old man had denied her even that much, simply throwing her to the worms.

In the years since, Byakuya had gotten rid of every memento of her, as the pain had been too much – even before the torture by Emiya Kiritsugu—which had broken him for good. Every memento save one – her mystic code – a wand of willow and unicorn hair, about 10 inches long.

Because his son had cost him his wife, he'd thrown the boy away as useless, choosing instead to do as Matou Zouken wished and train the adopted Tohsaka girl as heir, so to numb everything. But the boy had surprised everyone, and now he sent…gifts.

No. He couldn't hold on to the past any longer. Shinji had escaped the Matou house, like Kariya once had. Hopefully the boy knew better than to return, for there was nothing for him here but pain.

The case of green tea and the Tanuki statue would be easy enough to find, and to those Byakuya would add something of his own – the wand he had no use for.

It was time to let go, for good.

Sakura's reaction was less complex. She was just surprised – and a little touched. She'd felt sorry that she had had to lie to Shinji for so many years, had been trained in secret to become the heiress of the Matou clan, making him useless. She'd watched him, pitying how he had studied so long for something that would never be – and then one day he'd found out and had broken.

Frankly, Sakura wouldn't have blamed Shinji if he hated her. He was right to blame her. It was her fault for hiding it from him, for accepting his kindness and not telling him the truth.

When he'd left, he'd said nothing.

…and yet now, he'd gotten something…for her. A pouch that would let her keep whatever she wanted secret from the prying eyes of others.

It was…unexpected, to say the least.

As for Aozaki Touko, the gift of the armillary sphere and astronomical clock were easily enough delivered, and with the receipt of those, she decided to revise the reply she originally had had in mind when an owl had delivered her an ancient diadem laden with layers upon layers of deadly curses.

Meanwhile, back in the Wizarding Village of Ottery St Catchpole, the owls fortunate enough to be tasked with a domestic delivery had dropped off the stuffed troll in the front yard of the Burrow – the home of the Weasley Family—before the eyes of a gaping Ginny Weasley.

It was a massive thing, dwarfing the little redheaded girl at a height of 4 meters tall, its ugly visage quite terrifying to behold – especially with its club raised above its head as if to slay whoever had been foolish enough to bother it.

It was no stuffed toy, this. It was an actual troll that had been slain and stuffed as a trophy – or perhaps as a specimen for future study. Difficult to say when the person who had slain this particular troll was long dead and gone himself now, but—

"Mom, you have to come see this!"

—regardless, such an item left quite an impression on those who received it, as could be seen by how Molly Weasley opened the door of the Burrow and just stopped when she caught sight of the troll, her mouth closing with an audible click.

Her mind flashed through a number of reasons for why such a thing would be sitting in her front yard, settling on what she feared most – that Fred and George had been part of some nonsense – or were pulling yet another trick. She really wondered how she'd gone wrong as a mother sometimes – William, Charlie, and Percy had all ended up perfectly respectable, but the Twins?

They took after their uncles Fabian and Gideon – brave and mischievous, but ultimately dying before their time. She hoped the same would not happen to her boys.

No mother in the world would wish true harm to their children, no matter how exasperated they made her. But sometimes, like now, with this…troll…in her yard, they could really test her patience.

"I swear, if this is another one of those boys' pranks, I'll—"

"Mom, there's a note," Ginny interrupted, pointing to a letter stuck to the troll's leg, just out of the little girl's reach.

Not out of Molly's though, as she took the letter, noted that it was addressed to the Weasley Family, and opened it.

It read thus:

To the Weasley Family,

You should be very proud. Your sons are true examples of the spirit of Gryffindor, playful, but also brave beyond measure, as they fought – and won - against a Mountain Troll for the sake of the students of Hogwarts. This stuffed troll is a memento of that night, a reminder of how they stood firm in the face of danger.

To Fred and George,

We were enemies once because of your pranks, but we became friends and brothers in arms after we risked our lives against that troll, fighting when no one else could. Since you mentioned your Mum complained about your pranking, I am sending this to your family – showing them what more you do, what you – and we – faced to protect the other students by the side of the Boy-Who-Lived. Actually, what I really wanted was to send you the body of the troll we killed, but since we burned it to bits and blew its head off, this one will have to do instead.

Matou Shinji,

Stone Cutter Society

Molly couldn't really believe the words she was reading.

Her sons…had fought a troll? Along with this person, and the Boy-Who-Lived? How had one even gotten into the Castle? What was Dumbledore doing that the teachers weren't first on scene – that her sons had had to fight to protect the other students? Hogwarts was supposed to be the safest place in all of Magical Britain!

She would have to have a word with Dumbledore, great wizard or not – and with Fred and George, who hadn't mentioned any of this to her. They really were too much like Fabian and Gideon for their own good, even though they were only thirteen.

They were growing up so fast, and growing wild – but even so, there was something fierce in them. Something honorable, something good. They had stopped a troll, and not for fun, if the letter writer meant what he said. And given what must have been a very expensive delivery, she didn't think he was joking.

Even Molly had to admit to feeling a sense of pride that her sons had done what was right – stood up for people in danger when no one else could. That was proof enough that she'd raised them right, even if they hadn't been model students like her other sons, Ronald aside.

"Mom, what does it say?"

"It says…that your brothers did a very brave thing, Ginny. That they helped the Boy-Who-Lived stop a troll from hurting other students."

Professor Snape was appreciative enough of his gift, since a skilled potioneer did enjoy the use of worthy tools.

And Draco Malfoy…well, suffice it to say that no one enjoyed a glitter-bomb going off in their face, or being cursed to sparkle in the sun (alongside Crabbe and Goyle), but he held his tongue, as he didn't know who the gift was from. It had unfortunately only been labelled as coming from 'A Secret Admirer', and the package had self-destructed after the glitter shower had gone off. For days, people would be talking about the incident as Malfoy and company's "time to shine", something that was particularly irksome.

And Albus Dumbledore – well, when the Hogwarts Owls finally returned from the Far East, bearing with them the bill for medical treatment, as well as shipping fees billed to the school, the Headmaster of Hogwarts had cradled his head in his hands. Technically, Matou Shinji was within his rights to do so, given that school policy did say that students could use the school-provided owls for whatever postal needs they had, but he was determined to prevent such a thing from happening again.

Thus, he issued a quick policy change – one that would be read aloud at breakfast.

Use of Hogwarts' owls for domestic post would continue to be free of charge and accessible at any time, but international shipments would be subject to a few restrictions. Namely, unless given special approval from a teacher, students would only be allowed to send letters or small parcels internationally, unless using their personal owls.

His headache only worsened after a letter from Molly Weasley asking why her sons had had to fight a troll, since one should never have gotten into the castle in the first place. He had been forced to reply that how the Troll had gotten in was still under investigation, but that her sons had never truly been in danger, as teachers would have arrived in a matter of minutes. She had not been completely satisfied with that, but she'd trusted the man, so she let it go.

As for poor Shinji, when the owls returned from Mahoutokoro, they had indeed contained the items he'd asked his grandfather for, as well a small package – and a letter from a most unexpected person.

The letter of course, was from Aozaki Touko, and was not perhaps, the most charming thing he'd ever read:

Dear blue-haired brat,

While I originally thought the gift of a diadem was an assassination attempt, given several of the curses that had been laid upon it, I thought better of it after receiving your other presents. After all, few relics of that age and power are unprotected – I'm just surprised you didn't try using it yourself, since few young boys can resist the temptation of power.

In any case, you've given me something very interesting to look into and an incident to laugh about, so thank you for that. As for the book you bought, it's since gone to press and is now being considered for addition to the curriculum here. You're welcome, by the way. Toroi-kun generally hates dealing with people, but he owes me a favor or three.

Aozaki Touko

Visiting Professor of Ancient Runes, Mahoutokoro School of Magic

P.S. Boarding schools get a little cranky if you monopolize their resources, even if it's not explicitly forbidden. Use a little common sense, unlike some of your fellow practitioners of witchcraft.

Well…at least he knew the presents had made it to their destination, even if the diadem had been cursed – and now he was very glad that his potential teacher hadn't actually considered it an assassination attempt. Somehow Shinji thought that such a thing might end badly for everyone involved – but mostly him.

Powerful magi had a tendency not to die when one killed them, with his grandfather serving as an excellent example of this.

As for the items from home, two of them were the tea and statue as requested, but the other was…

'…a wand and a note.'

The note was simple. It read only: "This belonged to your mother. Now it is yours. – Matou Byakuya"

The wand itself was also a simple thing – a dark, banded willow, about 10 inches long, and rather supple – almost the polar opposite of his own.

But it was that simple thing – a simple length of willow - that had him retreating to the kitchens after classes that day, as he didn't really feel like dealing with most people. Another reminder of the past – of his mother. A reminder that had struck him hard.

To be honest, he hadn't quite believed Flitwick when the man had said that his mother had gone to Hogwarts, since he'd always thought of his mother as useless – a woman who was destined to die. To think that he was the same as her – that she had had some kind of talent and had had been in the very same house…where did that leave him?

And if Zouken had killed her, why had that been so? Why didn't she have her wand with her? Had she gone to talk to the Archmagus knowing she was going to die, leaving this behind?

Why had she done so? The more he thought about it, the more he didn't know – the more didn't make sense. Unless of course, she had thought Zouken was going to kill him for being useless and had taken the monster's ire on herself, in which case she was braver than anyone else he knew.

…or was he weaker, since he craved the approval of the crowds, wished to be seen as great?

He didn't know and that was perhaps the hardest thing of all.

In the absence of concrete information, his mind raced, spun, filled in the gaps with wild speculation – and worst part was that he realized he was doing this, but couldn't stop. His mind wouldn't stop, not with the confirmation of his mother's power from that…waste of space of a man…who had lied to him his entire life, and had even hid this from him.

Why?

Why?

Why?

He sat alone at one of the kitchen tables, shaking and breathing hard as he looked at the two wands before him – his cherry and crest worm wand, and his mother's willow wand – fingers on his temples.

And that was how Sokaris found him, with the poor boy for once not paying attention to the rest of the world, barely noticing as she sat down next to him.

"Are you unwell, Matou Shinji?" she asked, noting that his body language – even his physiological state—screamed distress.

Shinji almost jumped at the sound of her voice – at the fact that someone had seen him so weak—but just slumped as he recognized it was Sokaris. She'd seen him break down before, once, so it wasn't like he had to pretend with her.

"…you could say that," he admitted, shaking his head.

"I surmise this is related to your mother," she said, as if it were a matter of fact, with Shinji twitching as he looked up, blue eyes meeting purple.

"How…did you…"

"There has only been one other occurrence when you have been driven to such a level of distress," the purple-haired girl noted almost…clinically. "When Professor Flitwick mentioned your mother. And as you have a second wand here, the conclusion was obvious."

"I see," Shinji replied, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "I see. You really do like to watch people, don't you?"

"Observation is the best way to learn another's habits," the other answered, which in effect was admitting that she did. "People often dissembling when they speak, but it is more difficult to do so consistently in action. Slytherin House is a good example of this."

"Or yourself?" he challenged, though there wasn't too much bite in it.

"I do not outright lie if I can avoid it, Matou Shinji," the girl said reproachfully.

"Because you prefer misdirection and concealment," Shinji noted heavily, shaking his head.

"Like you."

"Well…yes," the Boy-From-the-East was forced to admit, a little heavily. "Like me."

The two were silent for a few minutes, with Sokaris not wanting to press Shinji about his issues, and Shinji not wanting to share too much, but the boy did want to be able to talk to someone about things. He imagined it was probably what Hermione felt as well, which made him feel an odd stab of sympathy for the girl, even as he forced his breathing to go deep and even so he could gain some semblance – some veneer of control.

"I received a package from…my family today," he began, closing his eyes. "It contained this."

He pointed to the willow wand, which looked so very different from his own.

"Your mother's wand."

"Yes," Shinji acknowledged.

"This upsets you a great deal."

Shinji only nodded.

"Until today, I didn't know for sure my mother had actually been a witch," he admitted for the first time, making sure there was no one around. "She died when I was young, and I grew up thinking…"

"…you were useless?"

Shinji blinked, shock momentarily on his face as he wondered how she'd known that – but he shook his head a moment later. Given what he'd been saying, he supposed it must have been obvious.

"Yes."

"Several factors played into this conclusion. Your words and actions when your mother was referenced. Your support of the Boy-Who-Lived. Your desire for recognition," she explained, not unkindly, as she studied his expression. "Do you believe this to be true?"

"I've…made my own path," he began, but faltered, looking down at the wand. "Or at least…I thought I had. But…" And thus was his greatest fear… "Am I just repeating what my mother did before me?"

"Your mother's choices were her own," Sokaris replied after some time. "Just as yours are your own, Matou Shinji. You are not bound by the past."

There was almost a sense of wistfulness in the way she spoke, which Shinji found odd. Sometimes, he thought she seemed much older than he. But she always seemed to understand him, and never really criticized.

"…thank you for that, I guess," he said, nodding.

"You are welcome, Matou Shinji," Sokaris answered, inclining her head fractionally. "I was simply acting as a…friend…would, given the circumstances."

"…is that how you think of me, Sokaris?" Shinji asked, genuinely curious – both about the words she had used, and the hesitation. "As a friend?"

Given the way she spoke, Shinji had wondered if Sokaris didn't interact much with others simply because she really didn't like attachment—because she didn't actually care for people all that much. She seemed focused on her own objectives, her own thoughts often enough that he didn't really question it, but sometimes…

"Indeed, Matou Shinji," Sokaris said, a ghost of a smile flickering across her face, though it vanished as quickly as it came. "You were my first friend."

"…and what about Granger? Didn't you meet her first?" Shinji asked, remembering how violently Hermione had reacted to seeing them together – to learning that Sokaris had done any pranking at all – had herself broken down at the news. "On the train?"

"A first acquaintance is not necessarily a first friend, Matou Shinji," Sokaris corrected quietly. "I respect Hermione Granger's intelligence, certainly, but her inflexibility of thought is troublesome."

"Inflexibility of thought with regards to say…artifacts created by Renkinjutsu?" the Boy from the East questioned, eyes narrowing now.

"Only partially," the purple-haired girl replied. "Other things as well, such as how to brew potions or other such. One often finds that people, and experience, not basic textbooks, are the better sources of information about current events. But more so, the ability to act on new information."

"Like in the scenarios, you mean."

Sokaris simply nodded.

"The Defense Professor was quite clever in devising such a challenge," she observed, shaking her head with…was it admiration and disgust? "Due to greed and pride, he gains valuable information on any potential problem students, with the only useful prize being the Book of Spells."

"…you didn't participate, did you?" Shinji asked, knowing what the answer would likely be.

"Tell me, did you find the Room of Hidden Things?" the would-be Alchemist answered with a question.

"I did," he said, remembering the mountains of treasure insid— "...I see your point."

"Indeed."

He looked down at the wands on the table, cherry and willow, wondering what to do. There was still the matter of his debt to her – one that he knew a simple gift could not repay, but…

"Sokaris…I have something for you," Shinji said quickly, before he lost his nerve. He was forcing himself, he knew it, but if he let himself stop…

"Yes?"

He picked up the willow wand that had been his mother's, and pro-offered it to Sokaris.

"This is the only thing I have remaining from my mother," he said shakily, his body trembling. "The only thing I have of great value." Emotionally, if not financially. "I…I want you to have it."

For the first time, he thought he saw Sokaris look…surprised. Well, as close to it as he'd seen.

"Are you certain, Matou Shinji?" she asked quietly. "Remembering the past is—"

"I have nothing else I can offer that could match what you told me. What you've given me," Shinji replied, swallowing as he tried to conceal his nervousness. Would she take the wand? She already had one, so it wasn't as if it was a practical gift. But it was…a personal one. "Sokaris, we're...friends, right?"

"I have said as much.."

"Then let me give you something important to me – as you shared something important to you," said the Boy-from-the-East. "I know you have something you want to accomplish here at Hogwarts. I will help you, if you will help me. Let this wand be a token of how serious I am. About helping you. As a friend, that is."

"I am…honored to hear that," Sokaris replied, taking the wand, her fingers brushing against his palm. She examined it for a moment, giving it an experimental swish. Interestingly, some red sparks shot from the end of it, signifying compatibility. "My thanks, Matou Shinji."

"It was…" Well…it wasn't nothing, really, and he didn't want to say it was so. "It was..."

Really, it was his past he was giving her, with his hands beginning to tremble as he thought about it – all the things he had never told anyone, didn't really trust anyone with – until she took the hand that had held the wand in one of hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I know," she said quietly, and in that moment, he rather thought she did.

And then the day came when the winners of Quirrell's Dungeon Challenge would be revealed, with all of the students who had participated at all gathered in the Great Hall to hear the announcement. In the days between, there had been a good deal more gossip about the challenges – who had faced what, and who the contenders might be for the title of best-of-year.

For the first years – which Shinji was most concerned about – the three contenders were, in no particular order, Neville Longbottom, Harry Potter, and of course, himself.

He knew the specifics of his own scenario, of course, and a bit about Longbottom's. Enough to know that they had been very different missions, though both had involved something of fight with a doppelganger – which he imagined that Longbottom had not had as much difficulty with, if the death inflicted by a Mandragora's scream was an instant one.

And as Shinji had found out by asking the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry's challenge had been rather different from either his or Neville's. For one, it hadn't been a rescue mission or a sneak and retrieval mission. It had been a stealth sabotage mission, with Potter tasked with infiltrating the stronghold of a group of Dark Wizards and preventing them from completing a ritual to resurrect their fallen Lord.

A rather personal mission, in other words, given who Harry was – and what he remembered.

And of course, since the mission was considered high priority, Harry had been allowed to choose two virtual allies from the first years who had completed their own challenges, as their doppelgangers would be the ones accompanying him.

His options had been Neville Longbottom, Shinji Matou, Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Daphne Greengrass, and Fay Dunbar.

Of these, Harry's first choice had been rather obvious. After all, who would he have chosen aside from fellow Stone Cutter Shinji Matou? His friend was a powerful wizard, he knew, and Harry knew that Shinji had done quite well – better than almost anyone else. Not entirely surprising, given the performance against the troll, though he wondered how much Shinji had shown in his mission.

If Quirrell really was working for Lord Voldemort, and was using this as a way to measure the capabilities of his opponents – then that could be quite bad.

As for Harry's other choice, he had waffled between Daphne Greengrass and Neville Longbottom. He'd worked with Daphne pretty often now, and they were about as close as one could get to being friends in Slytherin – plus, he knew she was fast and could be surprisingly sneaky. He knew very little about Longbottom, only that he wasn't melting cauldrons anymore since he'd been paired with Dunbar, and that Professor Quirrell had mentioned that he had held the highest score on the challenge when he completed it.

Malfoy had not been an option for obvious reasons, and somehow, he hadn't gotten the impression that the others were good at sneaking.

So in the end, he'd gone with Greengrass.

The scenario had warped them into a clearing outside the entrance to a cave, with each of them apparently being given an invisibility cloak and an emergency Portkey. Their mission was simple – infiltrate the cave system, navigate to the room where the ritual was being prepared, disrupt it, and escape, with a secondary objective of defeating the leader of the Dark Wizard band if possible.

And so they'd done so.

In retrospect, the initial approach had gone a bit too smoothly. Nothing had accosted them on the way into the cave – an old thing of limestone, with stalagmites and stalactites unfortunately slowing their travel. The routes were patrolled by a number of Dark Wizards in black robes and silver masks – Death Eaters, from what Harry had heard, but as long as he kept quiet, they didn't seem to be too aware of his approach.

On the other hand, they could hardly risk lighting up their wands, given that the cavern was mostly dark, save for torches that had been lit every so often.

…unfortunately, this did mean they had bumped into at least one sleeping wizard, but the Shinji-doppelganger had simply used his ofuda to paralyze the man.

Aside from that, however, all had been quiet—

—until Daphne's doppelganger had stepped on something, and had been caught in the arm by a sharp dart, with the girl's flesh rotting away from the point of contact – until the Shinji doppelganger had sealed the wound, stopping the decay from progressing much further. Unfortunately, it seemed that whatever she had stepped on had also triggered an alarm, as the Dark Wizards had raised an alarm, actively using flash-bang ofuda as a way to disorient hidden foes and try to flush them out.

Aside from his utter shock in seeing this, as he had thought this was the Eastern equivalent of runes, which western wizards didn't really truck with, it was…surprisingly effective. It didn't immediately betray their location like Homenum Revelio, of course, but it disoriented them, blinded them, crippled them in a way.

And unfortunately, when one had gone off in his face, he'd made an exclamation of pain – and the others had attacked en masse.

The Shinji doppelganger had immediately jumped in to help, using his wand to burn oncoming ofuda, while it launched its own at the enemy, with the air lighting up in a tempest of sound and fury.

"Harry, go. Stop the ritual. I'll hold them off," the likeness of his friend had said, as combat intensified. Harry had been frozen for several long seconds as the memory of his father saying very similar words echoed in his head, before he was broken out of his reverie by the green orb from a Verdimillious crashing near him, which he could only try to roll away from.

He and the Daphne doppelganger went on alone, while he hoped that the copy of his friend could hold off the enemy. At least for a bit. They'd continued, running from the sound of battle, with Harry sealing the Dark Wizards he saw on the way before they noticed him under his cloak.

He had reached the ritual room unmolested, only to find no one there – yet he knew it was only a matter of time before others came. Other Dark Wizards, all using ofuda and wand – a deadly combination.

He asked the Daphne doppelganger to hide against the wall under her cloak, in case she could help, while he did the task of trying to stop the ritual.

In the room had been a body of a somewhat reptilian looking creature, next to which lay a bronze chalice of some kind in the middle of a ritual circle of runes, a complicated contraption filling it with some eerily glowing liquid as the sound of chanting came from all around.

Unfortunately, his attempts to levitate the cup failed – disrupted by the circle of runes. So too did his attempt to push it out of the circle with Flipendo, so Harry had done the only thing he could think of – laying down a set of explosive ofuda around the circle to wipe out the runes.

Hopefully it would work, he'd thought at the time.

And with a muffled explosion, it had, the focused explosion destroying the rock on which the runes were described, allowing Harry to gr—

Whump-boom!

—to be thrown against the wall by an enemy, with his wand flying into the enemy's hand. An enemy with his face – albeit one without glasses, whose green eyes almost glowed in the darkness.

"Ah yes, I was wondering when you'd show up," the not-Harry had said, an ofuda of binding shooting out for Harry's prone form—only to be stopped by a jet of flame from an incendio.

When the doppelganger whirled to deal with the interloper, he had been hit in the chest by a disarming spell, his wands flying away a moment before he was knocked to the floor as Harry, enraged, had leapt at the copy of himself, throwing himself on the "ringleader's" back.

"You!" the copy had called, but he was unable to attack before Greengrass mercilessly discharged a Flipendo into the back of the doppelganger's head at point-blank range, slamming his head into the ground with a sickening crack. And then she did it again. And again. And again, with Harry looking on in half horror as the head of his doppelganger was reduced to paste and at last the so-called head of the Dark Wizards grew still.

Harry had taken the opportunity to retrieve his wand, grab the chalice and burn the reptilian body, before the duo made to escape – only to find their way blocked. The fight in the earlier room was over now, and the enemies were streaming down towards the ritual room, a storm of ofuda coming towards them.

Harry swallowed. There was no way he'd be able to survive this, unless…

"Daphne, can you…"

The doppelganger nodded, throwing off her robe as she hurled a wave of fire forward with a short of Incendio, intercepting the ofuda in-mid-air and causing them to release their stored power early.

"Run," she'd ordered, as a jet of fire got past her defenses and burned away the sealing ofuda – all that had been keeping the poison from spreading as Harry froze. "Run, damn you Potter!"

The blackness spread up her arm, over her shoulder and across her chest, up her neck, and he could see her face fearful but determined.

"Go!"

He ran, horrified as the darkness took her, flesh being eaten away to reveal ash and bone, pushing past the pack of dark wizards with a wad of explosive ofuda as he made his escape out into the open air – and had Portkeyed out, chalice in hand.

With that, the scenario had ended, with him standing in the Defense Classroom awaiting Quirrell's judgment.

But the Dark Wizard had not criticized him for his performance. Indeed, Quirrell had approved of his willingness to sacrifice his allies in order to complete his mission, praising the fact that having noted that their deaths would not penalize him, Harry had acted accordingly. After all, his objectives had been to disrupt the ritual – which he had done – and to eliminate the leader, which he had done in a more brutal fashion than any of the others. After all, Matou had thrown his foe into a Devil's Snare, while Longbottom had resorted to using a Mandragora.

Of those who had killed their doppelgangers, only Potter had used brute force, holding him down as his ally offer him execution style.

"…but then, such is what I'd expect from a ruthless Slytherin such as yourself," the Defense Professor had said, his voice making Harry want to shudder, to throw up. "Sacrificing your friends to achieve your goals after using them to do your dirty work."

"I didn't ask her to…"

"But you didn't stop her, did you?" Quirrell asked. "As I said, I am impressed, Potter. Even more so than I was by Matou. You put your goals ahead of your friends – exactly as you should have. You even let them die in your place. Yes, you are indeed fit to be what your peers call you – the Heir of Slytherin. Dismissed."

Harry had proceeded to a bathroom after that challenge, where he had indeed puked his guts out. How could he have been praised for what he did? For how he'd failed? Faces swam before him. The face of Shinji as he faced a group of foes he could not beat to buy Harry time, knowing what his fate would be. The face of Daphne as she faced death, the blackness of decay and death spreading up her arm and over her body as she told him to run.

They'd died.

Oh, not the real them, but they'd died all the same.

And he'd run, when he said he wasn't going to let anyone else die for him, because he didn't want to fail – didn't want to die.

Some Stone Cutter he was.

He'd taken some comfort from Shinji's words, who had said to remember that Quirrell was a Dark Wizard – that he could have very well designed Harry's scenario to strike at his deepest fears, if he had guessed anything about the Boy-Who-Lived. But not much, and in spite of himself, he'd found himself talking about his scenario to Daphne, who had been honored that he'd chosen her for his mission – but a bit horrified at how far it had gone and what had happened to her.

"One way or another, sooner or later, we all die, Harry," she'd said, after a bit. "At least, it seems like my copy went out doing something, instead of without any meaning at all." Her lips had curved into a small smile then, as she continued wryly. "She even killed the Dark Lord Potter."

That had gotten Harry to laugh, just a little bit.

And now everyone waited to see who would win Quirrell's Challenge – the man had just named the short list of people who had completed their challenges at all, saying that most had failed – that most failed to understand their limits or exercise common sense in their ambition. Fear of failure. Fear of not doing enough. Fear of consequences. These could lead to doing too much – which could be just as bad as the fear of doing nothing at all.

But with that, he'd announced the winners, allowing them to select their prizes.

Top among the first years was, unsurprisingly, Harry Potter, though the Boy-Who-Lived had felt a frisson of pain and nausea as the Defense Professor smiled at him, mentioning how his ruthlessness and his actions – those befitting a true Slytherin - had served him well. For that, Quirrell awarded him twenty House points and the right to choose the first prize.

Harry almost refused to take a prize, as he didn't really want to have anything to do with the man and his challenge, after Quirrell seemed to delight in using any opportunity to sabotage him in the eyes of others even as he praised him. Still, he took the Book of Spells anyway, as it was the only thing worth the mess, even if looking at it still brought him flashbacks. After all, Shinji had told him that if he won, he would share it with the Stone Cutters, and so he would do the same. He just hoped that the book could make something nicer than a dungeon, since they could use a place to practice. At least during Christmas, there would be time to explore the Castle, if one of the others wanted to.

Top among the second years was Cho Chang, the Seeker of Ravenclaw, who selected a Mokeskin pouch.

Unsurprisingly, George Weasley, who had scored the best of any Third Year student, took Quirrell's offered invisibility cloak - those things were quite expensive, after all, and would help marvelously for pranks.

Cedric Diggory, top among the fourth years, had taken the magical penknife which could unlock (almost) any door.

Robert Hillard, the defacto head of the Stone Cutters and fifth year prefect of Ravenclaw House, had been top among the Fifth Years, and he'd taken the set of two way mirrors. A practical gift for a practical lad - much more so than the Tanuki statue from Matou, which had half amused him and half horrified him due to memories of Peeves teabagging the corpse of the Troll they'd slain on Halloween.

The Champion of the Sixth Years, a Gryffindor, had actually been delighted that the full set of Chocolate Frog Cards was still available, but then he was widely known for his obsession with them, almost to the point of kneeling down in worship when he found a particularly rare one.

And Rianne Felthorne, a hardworking Slytherin who was not a prefect or any such, who had done the best of any Seventh Year in the Challenge, had taken the bezoars, noting that she was sure Professor Snape wouldn't mind some extra ingredients.

With that, the presentation of the Champions was complete, and the students erupted in cheers. After all, they'd won House points…and well, winter break was upon them at last, with plenty of opportunity for feasting, mayhem, and mischief.