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 22. Snow and Sand
Outside, the snow came down, gentle flakes drifting silently to the ground below, a pure white mantle blotting out the world. No scarlet in the sky, no darkness on the hills below – even the trees and the road were covered over on this grey Christmas morning.
Harry had gone up to the Owlery, where Hedwig was staying with the other owls, intending to send off a thank you note for Daphne Greengrass. It was a simple thing along with a small present of his own – a slim, elegant necklace with a green, tear shaped emerald suspended on a length of delicate silver chain, with a star-shaped flare of marquise-cut diamonds accenting the green stone.
He was a little embarrassed to be sending a girl jewelry, but he didn't have anything else he could send. Honestly, he hadn't even bought it himself; he'd found it among the jewels in the chest Shinji had given him, while looking for something suitable to give.
"Hey there, girl." With a wan smile, the Boy-Who-Lived lifted his arm, the Snowy Owl hooting as she saw her owner and fluttering over to perch on it with a ruffle of her wings. "Sorry I haven't been visiting more. Things have been…complicated."
The most profound of these complications being his sorting into Slytherin, of course. There were certainly times when things were almost overwhelming, when he envied his owl, wishing that he had wings and could just fly away.
…but he did not, and that was a bitter thing indeed.
And while he might kept her with him in the Slytherin Dungeons, he knew she would not have enjoyed the dank and cold, or the inability to just take flight and be free.
No animal like being imprisoned, after all.
There were other concerns, of course, like the fact that so recognizable a familiar would invite attacks from those who saw her presence as a point of weakness. Granted, most weren't foolish enough to test the Boy-Who-Lived, but…it was usually better to be safe than sorry, even if rumors and circumstance made it so that few would dare openly attack him.
As an infant, the Boy-Who-Lived had slain a Dark Lord, ending a war that had brought Magical Britain to its knees.
As the (presumed) Heir of Slytherin, he had used Parseltongue to order the snake that Malfoy sent against him to savage its conjurer instead – likely through a clever turn of phrase such that he could not be found culpable of a crime. Seeing as he was still at Hogwarts, and everyone knew how powerful Lucius Malfoy was in – and how close to the Ministry, most of the Slytherins saw this as a very impressive achievement indeed.
And if those weren't enough by themselves, there was the existence of the Stone Cutter Society. An elite group of individuals that one could not join without approval from the others, founded after the brutal killing of a troll on Halloween.
The very same troll that Quirrell had warned the students about, and all the teachers had gone to confront, but had somehow missed. Frankly, most considered it an incontrovertible show of his power, since what other reason could he have had for missing the Halloween Feast? Still, whatever had truly happened, he now had both a prefect of Ravenclaw (with the authority to give detentions) and the Weasley Twins – Hogwarts' most notorious pranksters – on his side, to say nothing about the boy from the east who had even destroyed Malfoy's wand.
So to most, Harry Potter was seen as a very dangerous wizard to cross, even in his first year. Thus, none would openly cross him, since the popular belief was that the less they interacted with him – the less he remembered them, the safer they were.
The favor of the powerful was a fickle thing, after all.
But there were always a few who liked to test the mighty, those who took great joy in tearing down what others had built up, those who lurked in the shadows and waited for a weakness to reveal itself. And those were the ones Potter worried about.
Not the threats he could see, but the threats he couldn't.
He shook his head as he stroked Hedwig's feathers, eliciting a sort-of cooing sound from the avian, though the owl seemed to sniff at his attempts.
"I know, it's my fault," he mumbled. And he knew it was too. But… "Where are all the other owls?"
There were only a few left in the Owlery, their absence made apparent by the sight of the cold winter sky through the gaps that normally housed them. The students who'd gone home would certainly have taken their owls with them, but that wouldn't explain where all the school owls had gone.
But Hedwig only hooted and ruffled her feathers, as if she couldn't be bothered with knowing where they were.
Or perhaps she was just cold, given how drafty the Owlery was, with its lack of windows. Harry had almost slipped on black ice a few times himself as he'd climbed the many flights of stairs to this place.
Clunk!
"Hm?" Harry glanced sharply towards the stairwell, body visibly tensing as he wondered who would be coming to the Owlery on Christmas Day.
Aside from him, that was.
At first, all he saw was a large package floating through the air, a chest almost as big as he was, wrapped in brown paper. A last minute Christmas gift? But Harry thought it unlikely, since written on the package in a neat, precise hand, was Gringotts Wizarding Bank, Diagon Alley.
Harry blinked.
Why would someone send a package to the bank on Christmas Day, unless—
'Ah.'
—they could store valuable items in their vault. Growing up without much in the way of possessions, the Boy-Who-Lived tended to associate banks with money, not as a place to keep items safe. Though he supposed he should have, given that Nicolas Flamel had apparently kept the Philosopher's Stone there for some time.
But the package was clearing the stairwell now, with the people levitating it coming into view.
A black—blue haired boy, and a purple haired girl.
Shinji and Sokaris.
Harry visibly relaxed as he realized it was them and not an older Slytherin or Gryffindor, both of which might have a bone to pick with the Boy-Who-Lived and Heir of Slytherin.
"Good morning, Shinji, Sokaris."
Despite everything he'd shared with Sokaris, he wasn't comfortable using her first name – and now that he thought of it, he wasn't sure that even Shinji was either.
Something he found odd, as those two were often spoken of in one breath – well, when people weren't half-jokingly describing Shinji and the bushy-haired brunette – Granger – as the Prince and Princess of the Library.
"Merry Christmas, Harry Potter." Sokaris nodded to the boy, as she expertly lowered the package to the Owlery floor.
That was something that unsettled him slightly about the girl – her tendency to use his full name, since the only other person to do so was Professor Snape. People who didn't know him well called him "Potter", the Stone Cutters called him "Harry" (though Fred and George sometimes called him "Potty" or other less wonderful nicknames), and most of the teachers called him "Mr. Potter."
"Harry! Merry Christmas!" Shinji added, as he caught sight of the Boy-Who-Lived. "Got loads of presents this morning?"
"A few," Harry admitted. Less than most would imagine, he thought. "Thank you, both of you." He looked down then, smiling sheepishly. "I just wish I had more to…"
"No need. Your aid in our venture will be enough," the purple-haired girl replied, her expression as impassive as always. He'd only seen her smile – he thought – once, and there had been something dangerous in that expression, but looking at her, one would see only a model student.
Though maybe that explained why she didn't fall asleep in Binns' History of Magic class.
"Your sharing the Book of Spells with us is more than enough," Shinji noted, the corners of his lips tugging upwards ever so slightly. "After all the trouble Quirrell gave us…"
"Yeah."
Harry watched as Shinji called down some of the few remaining owls, and nodded to the package.
The birds seemed to hoot and bark in protest as they saw yet another parcel to send out, but they reluctantly let themselves be tied to the package.
After all, it was what they were there for.
"…they don't seem to like you very much," the Boy-Who-Lived observed, noting that the owls had had no such reaction to him.
Hedwig gave a hoot of agreement and fluttered back up to her perch.
"I just wanted to send Christmas gifts home. How was I supposed to know owls didn't like to travel long distances?" Shinji grumbled, as the owls finally took off. "What's it like having one, anyway?"
"Not too different from not having one, at least at Hogwarts," Harry admitted, casting a lonely glance up at Hedwig, who was perched imperiously in her alcove high above. "With everything we have to do, there's really no time for pets."
"Hm, I see." Shinji grunted. He'd mulled over the topic of a familiar for a while, but though one had its uses, it was probably best not to bring an owl if it was just going to be kept here. "I was going to owl you, but the Weasleys wanted to meet up with us in the Kitchens for a short talk. You up for it, Harry?"
"I suppose…but can we stop by the dungeons first?" Harry asked. "I want to…grab the Book of Spells so I can show it to them."
The first thing in his life that he'd won – even if the means and situation through which he'd won still troubled him. The first thing in his life he could really share with those he called his friends.
Shinji smiled.
"By all means."
After some time and a few unplanned stops along the way, the trio managed to get to the kitchens, where the Weasley Twins had been obviously been waiting – if the display of Christmas-themed fireworks that went off as they entered was any indication.
"Harry, mate—"
"—and wee little Matou—"
"—and Sokaris too!"
"Merry Christmas!" the Twins chorused, a display that somehow always managed to make the Boy-Who-Lived smile. He did wonder how on earth they managed to coordinate so perfectly and finish each other's sentences like that, but thought that maybe it was just something siblings could do.
He'd never had one, after all – Dudley was probably the closest thing he had before Hogwarts, and the thought of the overweight boy being related to him made his skin crawl.
"Merry Christmas," the three replied, nodding or so.
"We only have a few minutes—"
"—since Christmas is a time for family—"
"—but we wanted to say a few things."
"Mostly, we wanted to say thank you," one of the twins said – Fred, Harry thought, given that he was wearing a blue sweater with a large yellow F on it.
"This year, when Mum sent us her usual presents," the other – George – added, gesturing to his own blue sweater, this one with a yellow G knitted into it. "She sent each of us a box of homemade fudge."
"And a letter. She told us…"
"…she was proud of us—"
"—because of how we had fought bravely against the troll to protect other students," they finished together, their faces unusually – almost unnaturally – solemn. "She usually thinks of us as good for nothing troublemakers, and we'd half thought she given up on us. Knowing that she hasn't is a better gift than we've had…ever."
Neither Harry nor Shinji knew exactly what to say to that.
Sokaris, for that matter, just looked on. It wasn't her they were thanking, and to see the Weasley Twins looking less than entirely confident was somewhat amusing.
"Don't thank me," Shinji said, bowing his head slightly, a gesture that made Harry blink. He didn't think he'd heard Shinji turn down praise or gratitude – ever. "We are Stone Cutters, comrades, brothers-in-arms. Your success is mine, as mine is yours."
Harry, not knowing what else to do, just aped Shinji, bowing to the twins as well.
"Don't do that – if Gin-Gin or Mum ever hear of this—"
"—they'll go bonkers," George finished. "That being said, she also…asked us for a favor."
Fred pointed to a stack of books: The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Modern Magical History, and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.
"Our Mum kind of wanted your autograph on one of these, to prove we actually were friends with the Boy-Who-Lived, and that you weren't as bad as Ronniekins made out in all those letters he wrote home about you being a dirty Slytherin who wouldn't give him the time of day," George said sheepishly.
Harry's ears burned – and he was pretty sure his cheeks were glowing too.
"I don't think he's quite gotten over having Potions with you Slytherins," Fred added. "Snape is a bit of a git to Gryffindors, you see. Only first year he seems to like in our House is Dunbar, and that's because she always does well and doesn't mind working with Slytherins. Never would have thought it, since she wants to be a beater, not—"
"—that there's much chance of that while we're still on the team—"
"—but what do you think, Harrikins – can you help a Stone Cutter out, oh great Heir of Slytherin?"
Harry sighed, but nodded as he made his way over to the pile and was handed a quill.
"Just tell me one thing," he asked.
"Anything at all—"
"—great Heir of Slytherin," the brothers said together, with a deep bow and flourish.
"How did Fred lose to George in Quirrell's challenge?" he asked.
"…I was actually wondering about that myself," Shinji added, looking at the twins curiously. "What did happen in your challenges anyway?"
Sokaris, who didn't have anything to add, just leaned against the wall and stared in that unnerving way of hers.
There was a bit of nervous laughter at that.
"…ha…funny you should ask, right brother of mine?"
"…haha…yes indeed, oh brother…"
Shinji gave them a fish-eyed stare, as the twins tried to resist, keeping a straight face, but relented with a groan.
"Fine. You drive a stiff bargain, Heir of Slytherin."
"What I would expect from a truly evil wizard."
The twins were silent for a time, though they were certainly not still, shooting looks, gestures, and who knew what else to one another. In the end though, they seemed to work out whatever dispute they had going on.
"I had to sneak past a bunch of obstacles – Devil's Snare, flying keys, giant chessmen, and potions and even a security troll to get a great red jewel," George began. He shook his head, shivering as he recalled the scenario. "That was...not so fun, brother of mine, especially when Professor Snape showed up and tried to kill me. I only got away because I threw a dungbomb at his face and ran."
"Better than having to break into Snape's personal ingredient stock," Fred retorted, looking around and making a sign of warding in case the aforementioned professor could somehow hear him. Neither were entirely convinced that Snape wasn't a dread practitioner of the Dark Arts himself, biding his time until he took up the mantle that his fallen master had left.
Still, it wasn't as if Shinji knew that – or Harry, for that matter.
"…shouldn't breaking into a storage room have been easier than sneaking past a troll and…everything else?" Shinji asked. Surely a professor's private stock wasn't that well protected…right?
"Oho, do you want to tell him, brother of mine, or should I?"
"Your fight, your story, brother of mine."
"…fine," Fred muttered sourly, sighing. "Snape is a git, if that book is right about his private stores. Thing is a dungeon in its own right, with pitfalls, monsters, traps and curses – and that's after you get to it, slogging through rooms covered in slime, past the Room of Doom, and a room with a gaping hole in the middle. And of course, if you try to grab the wrong thing, he comes in like a winged bat and…"
He trailed off, with Shinji making a mental note to never get on Severus Snape's bad side.
"…well, now you know," Fred groused. "And that's how George won best in year." His face visibly brightened after that though, a trace of mischief stealing across his lips. "Though you should have seen how Ronniekins reacted when he saw the invisibility cloak we won. Begged us to let him borrow it, he did."
"But we said no," George filled in. "As much as we may be purveyors of mischief—"
"—and up to no good, we know what we're doing and how to not get caught without a cloak. Ickle Ronniekins…has a way to go first."
"Hillard is right. Cloaks are a trap until you know what you're doing—"
"—but in the hands of experienced troublemakers."
They laughed then, a sound so raucous and joyful that even Shinji and Harry couldn't help but smile. When they stopped…
"I signed the books."
Harry pushed the books over to them.
"Will you all be at the Feast after this?" he asked, looking to the Weasley Twins, but also to his other friends.
"Of course, though we'll mostly be with good old Perce and Ron," the Twins chorused.
"We will be there as well," Sokaris noted, speaking up, much to Shinji's surprise. He'd intended to ask her if she wanted to spend the evening with him again, perhaps at a picnic in the greenhouses or something, since neither of them liked crowds.
"Hoho, so the princess of Ravenclaw deigns to honor us lowly mortals with her presence at a meal!" Fred exclaimed. "How very unexpected, isn't that right, brother of mine?"
"Indeed, oh brother of mine!" George added, thinking about something. "Is this your first Christmas, Sokaris?"
"And if it is?"
"Why then, we need to celebrate! To the Great Hall!" the Twins shouted, posing heroically as they opened the door and gave melodramatic, sweeping bows. "Ladies first, after all."
Sokaris raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, simply walking out of the kitchen, with the others following in her wake.
As expected, the Christmas Feast was spectacular – though Shinji would have probably used other words for the lunchtime affair.
He'd almost kicked himself as he realized that he'd forgotten the many ways words could be interpreted in English. Dinner, for example, could mean either lunch or supper, depending on the culture and how big the meal was, or what time of day it was. In this case, it was the noon-time meal, and only Sokaris had kept him from embarrassing himself by missing it unintentionally.
Whether or not he'd have gone to it willingly otherwise was a different issue altogether, given the mountains of food – the rich, rich food that was served.
Hundreds of succulent, cider-roasted turkeys, skin a perfect shade of golden brown, trays garnished with tender glazed apples and pears. Each bit of meat was moist and juicy – and the stuffing, oh the stuffing was decadence indeed, made of bacon bits, onions, crushed apples, pecans, sage, and cornbread and not a little bit of butter.
Mountains of golden potatoes seasoned with parsley, quartered and roasted in garlic and olive oil until brown and crisp.
Platters of chipolatas – ground pork sausages seasoned with sage, thyme, and nutmeg – fresh off the grill.
Tureens of buttered peas and leeks, simmered in fragrant chicken stock.
Silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce.
And of course, every meter or so along the table, little cardboard tubes wrapped in festive paper, similar to the Christmas Crackers sometimes given out as party favours in the Commonwealth. As Harry explained, each person grabbed one of the end of a cracker and pulled – whereupon the cracker would emit a loud crack (indeed, which is where the name cracker first came from!).
Usually, they contain a little plastic toy and a flimsy paper hat, but—
BOOM!
—it appeared the witchcraft based variant was a little different. For starters, it didn't crack, it BOOMED like a cannon, with a cloud of blue smoke poofing out into the room. When it cleared, the Japanese boy was less than amused to feel a kabuto—a samurai helmet—on his head, and a long, jet-black candle appearing in his hands.
"Huh." Shinji looked over at Harry, only to see the Boy-Who-Lived had apparently gotten equivalent items, as he was now sporting a tricorn hat and had his hands encumbered with what seemed like a chess set.
More booms and blasts went off, with Shinji noting the odd headwear appearing on everyone's heads.
Dumbledore, up at the high table, had donned a flowered bonnet. An increasingly drunk Hagrid was wearing the small green hat of a leprechaun.
The Weasleys Twins both had hats that kept trying to rise off their heads.
Professor Snape's head was now adorned by a jet black bowler hat – which wasn't too incongruous with his outfit of black.
Percy Weasley's, however, was topped with a much gaudier lime-green bowler hat, much to the amusement of his younger brothers.
And Sokaris' was adorned by a purple beret that matched the color of her eyes, something which made the girl tense very slightly before she turned her attention back to her food.
Overall, the meal was…raucous, with little time to talk, and much drunken carousing from the teachers. Interestingly, Professor Quirrell was not there – and Shinji didn't know if the man was in the castle at all – or had been – during winter break.
Still, when he left the table, Shinji was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a razor of some sort, a mortar and pestle, a juicing board, a Revealer…and a rubber duck, as well as several layers of hats.
He and Sokaris declined to join the others for a snowball fight, Shinji because he felt too bloated to move, and Sokaris presumably for other reasons.
He remembered dozing for some time, but when he woke up, he wasn't in his room. Or had he even made it to his room. The boy-from-the-east found himself in the middle of a village square – a place he recognized all too easily from the burnt out husks of the buildings around him, and the moon shining high above on a cloudless night.
"It is time to train," Sokaris' voice echoed in the gloom, with Shinji looking over to see what he thought was the dusky-skinned girl in the shadows of a ruin. "Wake now, Matou Shinji."
Somehow, the boy felt he should have expected this, as he levered himself to his feet.
Still, he couldn't complain.
"The Book of Spells?" he asked, mostly to confirm what he already suspected.
"Indeed. The scenario has been changed as well."
Sokaris robe-clad form stepped out of the gloom into the moonlight, her wand held like a rapier in one hand, with two vials held between the fingers of another.
"Potions, Sokaris?"
"Of course. You are not the only one with a hidden trick or two, Matou Shinji."
The boy smiled – perhaps he'd be able to see how his companion fought at last.
"I never thought I was."
Sokaris said nothing to that, save for two words addressed to the book.
"Scenario start."
So things went until the coming of the New Year.
During the day, Matou Shinji could mostly be found holed up in his study room trying out new combinations of ofuda – which proved to be something of an exercise in frustration, given how he had had no one to guide him. It had taken him the better part of two months to learn the basics of the Art to begin with, and progressed was illusive.
In particular, elemental ofuda were only described in theory in Of Ofuda and Origami, with a caution that one should not attempt to use these before one knew of any elemental alignments one might possess. As such, what the book covered were the basics of Onmyoudou, with a suite of spells which any non-aligned Onmyouji could use – sealing, binding, warding, and basic offensive ofuda.
While Shinji knew that the Matou family was historically water aligned – hence the spells of absorption, decay and such in the family grimoires – he had no guarantee that this was true of him, and decided not to risk it. At best, it would be a waste of his time, with the ofuda failing to react at all. At worst – well, the book didn't go into detail, but Shinji could guess.
He'd seen his share of explosions and uncontrolled spells in Charms class, after all.
And so Shinji practiced making the types he was familiar with, attempting some basic arrays – repurposing his warding ofuda for use against a general counter-spell – though it wouldn't last long against fire. He would need an elemental alignment for that, which would probably have to wait till he returned to Mahoutokoro in the summer.
There was only so much one could learn out of a book, after all.
(At least if that book wasn't the Book of Spells or the Book of Potions, which were effectively teacher, practice area, and text all rolled into one).
That aside, he assumed the school there would have more information on ofuda, as opposed to runes, which were more used in the western world – or so he thought, since Aozaki Touko had simply been a visiting Professor of Ancient Runes.
At night, he would mostly be found exploring the castle and its grounds with Sokaris. Occasionally, Harry would join them – telling them of a Mirror of Erised he'd discovered in an empty classroom, which Sokaris had commented later had once been in the Room of Hidden Things. Sometimes, they would see the Weasley Twins wandering through the castle.
Every once in a while, the Stonecutters would work on a group scenario using the Book of Spells, though Sokaris never joined them for those.
Mostly though, they simply wandered the halls and ground after a meal in the kitchens, or could be found in a scenario for two, in the course of which, Shinji learned that Sokaris did not enjoy being touched casually, and that the wand he'd given her was in fact the first present she'd ever received.
And of course that she was faster than he was when it came to using her wand – not that he was surprised, since he tended to use ofuda if speed was of the essence.
But what surprised him most was her use of potions in combat – some of which he'd never seen before. Not that this was surprising, since as the person who'd lent Granger the Book of Potions, she likely had already learned what the book had to offer, but he did wonder where she brewed them.
Some of them were acid-green vials that exploded when hurled against an enemy.
Some were purple vials that removed spell effects.
Some weakened enemies so they could be easily finished off.
Some…well, there were more than few he hadn't seen her use yet, and frankly, he didn't feel he wanted to, since he didn't want to imagine what else she'd brewed up.
One thing was sure though – her interest in Alchemy was more than just theoretical, and he was glad she was on his side.
At least, he thought so.
And then it was New Year's Eve, with Sokaris, Matou and Potter standing in the midst of what seemed like the desert.
The sun was high overhead, the air dry and sharp, as sand dunes rolled away into the distance – about as far removed as one could get from winter in Scotland.
"What is this place?"
Shinji was curious. Yes, they'd come here using the Book of Spells, but he had no real idea as to why, except—
"I was born amidst the desert sands," Sokaris spoke, closing her eyes as she let the false sunlight wash over her. "Named for the triple god Ptah-Seker-Osiris – Sokar, some call him."
The creator and craftsman. The falcon connected with rebirth. And the god of the dead.
"You're…from Egypt," Harry surmised.
"Yes, Harry Potter…but I have not been home in a very long time," she said, her voice wavering slightly as she swallowed. "It is…wearisome. Ah, quite wearisome."
"I'm sorry to hear that," the Boy-Who-Lived replied, reaching out to steady her – though she sidestepped him.
"Do not touch me," she admonished, opening her eyes as body trembled. "Please."
"Alright…" he said, looking to Shinji, who just nodded. It was best not to go against her when she was in one of these fey moods, her eyes almost red in the light of the sun.
Harry was struck by the sense of longing in her voice – she'd always seemed unattached to anything or anyone, and yet here she was, missing…something, somewhere.
"It's the new year, Sokaris," Shinji offered, drawing out a few slips of paper he'd prepared for today, and holding out all five. "Make a wish, and take one of these."
"Hn…" Sokaris acknowledged, drawing one of the papers. "'Your wish will be granted?'"
"If I can help it." Shinji smiled slightly. "We're friends, after all."
"Hn."
"Harry, do you have a wish?"
"…world peace?"
"Heh," Sokaris grunted. "Knowing the nature of humanity, such is unlikely to occur."
"…I was joking."
"Ah. My apologies."
"I don't have a wish – but I am thankful. Thankful for magic, thankful for Hogwarts – thankful for friends," Harry said at last. "Though if I had one…well, you both know."
"Indeed, Harry Potter," Sokaris murmured, as the winds began to blow. "Hang fast to that wish, to that image of what you desire, for images themselves are magic. They are stories yet to be born, narratives yet to be woven, fairytales and ideals of the mind, touching the mind, the heart and the soul. Remember your wish, for it will be power, and one day you will become glorious."
The rest of the time was spent in silence, as the three sat and enjoyed the false warmth of a simulated sun till by mutual accord, till the first morning of the New Year dawned.