Matou Shinji and the Heirs of Slytherin

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: Trouble is brewing in the Wizarding World. In the wake of the Stone Incident, Albus Dumbledore has begun quietly preparing Britain to survive the coming war. The Stone Cutters, a new organization at Hogwarts for the most talented and distinguished of students, seek new blood to bolster its strength. The Boy-Who-Lived seeks his destiny as the Heir of Slytherin. And a boy from the east meets a specter of the past.

Chapter 9. Historia

Professor Flitwick regarded the student who was sitting before his desk – one Matou Shinji – with the eye of someone who was both a Head of House and a former champion duelist, looking for signs of weakness or uncertainty. He was no Legilimens, but he'd never found the art necessary, since all but the best duelists had tells that betrayed their intentions, motivations or next actions. Those who had studied Occlumency were no exception, as they focused on defending their minds, and so often forgot how much could be discerned from one's choice of words, from a hint of tension in one's shoulders or neck – even from a blank expression, as such revealed the person had something to hide.

As to why, well, the second-year had just asked him for training in non-verbal spellcasting. Ordinarily, the Charms Professor would have simply have said no, since Hogwarts considered the topic too difficult for younger students, but the boy could already use his homeland's arts non-verbally, suggesting a gift for mental discipline, not unlike his mother.

That and the boy had mentioned how he didn't feel safe at Hogwarts, citing the events of the past year and the escape of Sirius Black. And it was hard to blame him, as Matou Shinji was both one of the few students who knew the true peril of facing a Dark Wizard and might be a possible target.

Oh, on the surface, the boy seemed confident enough, and his bravado fooled most students, even made them calmer to know they had heroes in their midst, but Filius Flitwick knew better than to think that the easterner had been left untouched by his ordeal.

Conflict left its scars on all those it touched – the old as well as the young – even if they were not as obvious as Mad-Eye Moody's disfigurement. And though it was easy to think of the young – of students – as innocents to be protected, such a view was no good after they had already been exposed to the harsh realities of the world, as the Stone Cutters had.

Certainly he could see signs of tension in the Japanese boy's frame, and the signs of wary alertness that bespoke a readiness to respond to hostility at a moment's notice – something highlighted by the wrist holster that the boy wore, instead of keeping his wand in his pockets or his schoolbags.

"You were at Mahoutokoro over the summer, yes?" the part-goblin asked after a moment, wanting a way to better gauge the abilities of the young boy in front of him, especially after whatever supplemental studies he went through in the summer. "Severus mentioned meeting you and one of your teachers, an Aozaki Touko, when he was there for his committee meeting."

"Yes," Shinji said simply. "Given what happened last year, it was deemed prudent for Harry and I to receive some Defense training."

"And training in the Eastern Crafts as well, no doubt."

"Naturally," the Matou scion replied, his expression composed and seemingly serene. "Few other places teach it. And there's only so much you can learn from a book."

"What is the Muggle saying – 'knowing just enough to be dangerous?'" Flitwick asked, sure that he'd heard the term from Quirrell at one point, but not certain as to the particulars.

"Yes, just so," Shinji noted, a strange expression flitting across his face for a moment before it returned to normality. "Which is why I would like to ask you to train me in non-verbal casting in the Western Style."

"Mr. Matou, you do realize that as a rule, Hogwarts doesn't begin training its students to use non-verbal spells until their Sixth year, yes?" the part-goblin inquired, regarding the boy evenly. "You know that my door is open to any Ravenclaw in need, and that I wish to help how I can, but I'm not sure your focus is altogether…healthy."

That Matou had his quirks, like an inability to sleep around other people, he could understand, though it made him wonder what the boy's family life must have been like. This single-minded focus on competence though…

"With all due respect, Professor, I'm sure Harry is asking for the same thing from Professor Snape," Shinji answered, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. "This isn't just something we want. It's something we need to feel safe. As it is, I know 'just enough to be dangerous.'"

Flitwick's eyebrows shot up at this frank admission from the boy from the East.

"Show me," he all but commanded, with Shinji rising to his feet, his wand already in his hand as he shouted Calvario – with a bolt of emerald light exploding forth from the tip of the wand and detonating into jagged streaks of verdant lightning.

The master duelist had, of course, put up a Shield Charm as soon as the spell showed signs of not just being the disarming charm.

"That was Verdimillious, but with a different spell's incantation," Flitwick noted, letting his shield drop as he belatedly recognizing the wand movements as not being those of the Hair-Loss Curse – which itself would be an upper level spell. In the dueling arena, it was simply not done to speak one incantation and use the movements of another as a diversion, as it was a tossup as to what the effect would be if the person knew both spells in question. "I thought I covered the lesson of pronunciation with the example of Wizard Baruffio in first year."

"You did, which is why I used a different incantation and not a mispronunciation," Shinji related, sheathing his wand. "Witchcraft is something of focused intent, after all, and the words just help one get there."

"And you don't have any idea how to cast the Hair-Loss Curse, do you?"

"No, Professor."

"Have a seat, Matou," Flitwick said, frowning as he took a seat himelf. Not knowing how the cast the spell one was speaking the incantation for was perhaps the only way one could pull off a deception like this, but why had his student felt the need to think of something like this?

"Did your instructor at Mahoutokoro teach this to you?" he asked mildly. Because this definitely qualified as knowing just enough to be dangerous.

"Not exactly," Shinji admitted. "He just had a very hands on approach to Defense."

"You learned by dueling," the part-goblin surmised, raising an eyebrow. "An effective method at helping one learn how and when to use certain spells, though not a substitute for knowing the theory behind them, especially if you want to experiment. Even if you do know the theory…" He fell silent for a moment, his thoughts elsewhere. "I am told you are acquainted with Miss Lovegood?"

"Yes," Shinji admitted, thinking back to his conversations with the girl and coming to an unpleasant conclusion. "Is this related to what happened to her mother?"

"Pandora was an extraordinary witch – one I was proud to call a Ravenclaw," Flitwick acknowledged. "But, like you, she had the urge to push the boundaries of what was known. And in the end, she died when one of her experiments went wrong. As I recall, she was working on a new healing spell of some sort – but the point is that you need to have a firm foundation, and even then, that might not be enough. Right now…"

…you don't even have that, Flitwick wanted to say, but he held his tongue.

"…but even if I said no, you would try to learn on your own, wouldn't you?"

"I would," Shinji answered, meeting the Professor's gaze with grim resolve the part-goblin rarely saw in children his age.

"Very well then, Matou," the diminutive man acquiesced. "If it were to be done, it should best be done properly. We will meet twice a week, Monday and Friday after your fifth class of the day."

"Thank you, sir."

"Of course," Flitwick squeaked a bit gruffly. "Was there anything else I can do for you?"

"Well…could you tell me about my mother?" the Matou scion asked, almost hesitantly. It was quite a contrast to how he'd asked to be trained – and more of one from how he'd reacted last year at the mention of the witch. He'd not seemed to know even that she'd gone to Hogwarts…

"What do you know of her?" the part-goblin inquired, wanting to see what the boy had heard from his own family.

"Not much, aside from what you told me," Shinji admitted, shaking his head. "It wasn't until Christmas last year when my family even told me she'd been a witch. She died when I was very young. I don't even know how she came to study at Hogwarts, since it normally only takes students from the United Kingdom and Ireland."

She'd died at the hands of his grandfather, no less, but the boy from the East knew better than to reveal that little tidbit - just as he'd known better than to show the Professor his proficiency with conjuring forth a cloud of darkness.

"Well, that I can tell you," the Head of House Ravenclaw related, thinking back to the young girl he'd known as Aisaka Mariko, in what seemed a lifetime ago. "Her father had come to Britain for work – he was a scholar of some kind – and head brought her with him."

"Oh?" Shinji voiced. "At…one of the universities or…?"

"The British Museum, I believe," Flitwick answered.

Shinji started at the name, as its deepest basements held the offices and departments of the deceptively named Clock Tower, the Association's current headquarters.

"You've heard of it?" Flitwick asked mildly. "Quirinus much enjoyed visiting it during his time as Muggle Studies professor, remarking that Muggle histories were far more complete than ours, and that they are far less secretive about their histories than many of our magical nations are about ours."

For instance, that British wizards had massacred Maori practitioners of the arts (the Tohunga), as well as those of the Australian Aborigines, was not commonly known, as this had happened in the early 1900s, after Cuthbert Binns had begun teaching History of Magic. Nor was it common knowledge that the Malfoy family had once served Kings and been one of those who most vehemently opposed the separation of the Muggle and Wizarding worlds, given the honors and accolades they'd won for themselves in the former.

"A friend of the family worked there once," Shinji said simply. And this was true in as much as Tohsaka Tokiomi had been thought of as a friend. "And I've always wanted to visit."

"I see. Well, your mother was once team captain of the Hogwarts Gobstones club, and the head of the Charms Club," the Professor related. "Had no patience for Quidditch or Quidditch players, as she didn't see the point in flying about on brooms when one could be studying magic. Didn't have any patience for dueling either, since magic should be used to fix the world's ills, not make them worse according to her – not that that stopped her from hexing those who truly annoyed her."

"Is that so?" Shinji asked. He'd known she was the daughter of a magus, but not how much that mentality had affected her, since she wasn't the only child of her family.

"I will tell you more during our lessons – is this acceptable?"

"Ah, yes sir," Shinji answered.

"Good. I am glad to see you are coping well enough after last year's unfortunate events," Flitwick noted pleasantly enough. "Do remember that my door is always open to those in need, and please send in Miss Granger on your way out."

"Yes sir. Enjoy the tea from Mahoutokoro."

Following Hermione's meeting with the Head of House Ravenclaw, wherein she'd received special permission to check out the Book of Potions for the rest of the year (since the book held a certain sentimental significance to her, as it was the only thing Sokaris had ever given her), the two headed to breakfast – but not at the Great Hall.

With the Stone Cutters having access to Founders' Tower, it wasn't as if they needed the kitchens as a meeting place, and given today's schedule – a veritable gauntlet of double transfiguration, followed by Potions, History of Magic, and Herbology, Shinji didn't feel much like weighing himself down with the heavy fare Hogwarts was known for.

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked, noting that they'd passed the corridor that would take them to the Great Hall some time ago, and were now heading down a series of passageways she'd never seen before.

"The Kitchens," Shinji said tersely.

Realization dawned that this must have been where her friend had disappeared to so often last year, given his common absences at meals.

"…are we even supposed to be heading this way?" the brunette questioned, looking around to see if anyone had seen them. "What if we get in trouble?"

"Is there a rule saying people have to eat in the Great Hall?" Shinji replied, trading a question for a question.

"Well, no, but…"

"Besides, Professor Flitwick knows I know where it is," the boy finished, shrugging. "And the food served for meals tends to be heavier than I'd like, especially before transfiguration."

This gave Hermione a moment of pause. Since she had done a bit of traveling, she was aware that breakfast traditions were different in most countries.

The French, for example, preferred simplicity at breakfast: toast and jam, cereal and milk, or a simple pastry like a croissant. Savory things like sausages, bacon, eggs, and such; or overly sugary things like "French toast", pancakes, crepes, or such were simply not what was eaten.

This was quite in contrast to Hogwarts, where eggs, bacon, sausages, grilled tomatoes, beans, and mountains of rolls were front and center.

"…what do you normally like for breakfast?"

"At home I have rice, miso soup, an omlette and pickles," Shinji answered, shaking his head. "Since we don't have rice at Hogwarts, I go with barley porridge, topped with a poached egg, a bit of ginger, and chopped leek. And as a miso replacement, I have a chicken soup with potatoes, onion, leeks, and mushroom."

Hermione looked at her friend oddly, thinking about how strange it must be not to have the foods he was used to. But more importantly…

"…they can make dishes to order in the Kitchens?" she wondered out loud. She couldn't see how that was possible – surely the army of chefs Hogwarts employed couldn't cope with custom dishes. Though …was that how vegetarian students got by? Special requests at the kitchens?

"You'll see," Shinji said simply, as the duo walked down corridors and passageways until they came at last to a painting of a bowl of fruit.

The boy from the east reached out and tickled the pear, which to Hermione's surprise squirmed, laughed, and transformed into a green doorknob, which Matou Shinji pulled open to reveal—

"—these are the kitchens?" Hermione squeaked, noting that they looked nothing like any kitchens she'd seen before. This was no crowded area of cooks hustling and bustling about, no shining metal cookery in the back of a restaurant, but a cavernous hall identical in size to the Great Hall above. Five tables in the room matched those in the Great Hall, with pots and pans heaped around the walls, a large brick fireplace at the other end of the hall from the door – and strange creatures stirring the pots and otherwise tending to the business of preparing the castle's food. "And what are—"

"House-elves," Shinji answered, since he'd had the same question the first time he set foot in the Kitchens himself.

"Elves?" Hermione asked. They certainly didn't look much like how she thought of an elf, what with their spindly arms and legs and over-sized heads and eyes. She'd thought of elves in the way that most did – tall, graceful beings who lived eternally and were ever-wise. "But what are they?"

"They do the cooking and cleaning here at Hogwarts, as they do for the homes of some witches," Shinji answered, the corners of his lips tugging downward slightly like he wanted to say something more. "Basically, they're servants."

This was news to Hermione, who'd never heard of this before – though now that she looked, she did recognize the creatures. She'd last seen a statue of one in the fountain in the Ministry's atrium, where a so-called elf, goblin, and centaur looked adoringly at a witch and wizard. Still, there hadn't been any mention of House Elves in Hogwarts: A History. In fact, as she was starting to suspect, there was a lot that was not in that book – or many others. Official Secrets, the book required by Lockhart, talked of a great deal that the others didn't, so was that book unreliable – or were the others she'd read?

But she didn't have time to think further, as one of the house elves padded over to the group and bowed.

"Ah, young master and mistress, how is Kizzy be helping you today?"

"My usual order for breakfast, please," Shinji stated.

"We is not having chicken today. Will pork do instead?"

"That will be fine, thank you," Shinji replied, turning over to Hermione. "Hermione, what would you like?"

But the girl was too busy goggling at the elves to respond. So he poked her shoulder.

"What?" the brunette asked, confused.

"It's not polite to stare," Shinji replied with a hint of a smirk. "Anyway, Kizzy asked for your order."

"Oh. I'm sorry. Can you make a full English breakfast with Turkish eggs?" she asked of the rag-clothed creature, who wasn't even given full clothing.

"What be Turkish Eggs?" the house-elf inquired, tilting its head.

"Ah, poached eggs with yogurt and hot chili butter, served with flatbread," Hermione explained in a rush. "Oh, and by full English, I meant sausage and bacon with black pudding, a hash brown, and trotter baked beans."

"That we can making!" Kizzy exclaimed excitedly, features lighting up as the unfamiliar term was cleared up. "Drinks?"

"Breakfast tea, if you please," Shinji, with Hermione asking for orange juice instead, before he waved them over to one of the tables.

It wasn't too long before the food arrived, with Hermione looking thoughtful as the house elves delivered it before returning to their other duties.

"All this time, I thought wizards and witches made our food," Hermione mused quietly, looking around at how they cleaned, cooked, and such – sometimes manually stirring a pot or flipping a pan, but mostly using magic. Wandless magic at that. "I didn't even know there were elves in the magical world."

"There's a lot most don't know," Shinji replied with a wan smile. "You're not alone in that."

No, she wasn't, but she hadn't accepted that these things might exist until they were shown to her, and even then, she still had trouble accepting why it wasn't in any book, any volume.

"…you and Sokaris used to come here, didn't you?" the brunette asked, a lance of pain stabbing through her chest as she thought of her departed friend.

"…we did," Shinji admitted. "She even more than I. I thought that with her gone, you would like to see where she spent so much of her time."

Hermione looked down, her eyes almost wet with tears. She was touched by this gesture of Matou's, she really was but at the same time...she had thought Sokaris was her friend, but the other girl had kept so many secrets – secrets only Matou had been privy to, it seemed. Sokaris had never invited her to the kitchens, to spend time together outside of studying, or ought else…

"…did she prefer being alone, most of the time?"

"Most of the time, yes," Shinji answered as he dug into his food. "She found the kitchens long before I ever did. And other rooms, besides."

"Huh…so how did you learn, if not her?" the girl questioned, looking up suspiciously. Did he mean that he and Sokaris hadn't just snuck off to the kitchens for rendezvouses, just the two of….

…it belatedly dawned on her that Shinji and she were alone, eating a meal together, something that could be construed as a date, and she looked down again, trying to hide a violent blush.

"That…is a secret," Shinji said playfully.

She looked up, glaring, but the Matou boy just smiled.

"Sorry, but I really can't tell you, even if you are my friend."

Which hurt. Sokaris had had so many secrets, and then one day she just vanished. Would Matou, who likewise kept secrets, do the same? Would he one day decide that she was no good and find someone to replace her? Like that…that Lovegood girl who had sat next to him at the Welcome Feast, who he'd given a flower to on the train - who she'd seen him reading a book with?

She found she didn't have the courage to ask about that though, and knew that she should consider herself lucky that Matou had shared this secret with her – even if the more he shared, the less she felt on stable ground, as if the sky would fall and the earth collapse.

Hermione Granger had always been so certain of what was right, what was wrong, of what was everything's proper place – but slowly she was learning that this wasn't the world where she'd grown up, that there were layers of meaning to every thought and deed, many assumptions that went unstated.

Everything was so…complicated, but she gave voice to none of that over breakfast, just reaching out and squeezing one of Matou's hands.

"Thank you," was all she said.

"For what?" Shinji asked, tilting his head.

"For showing me this. And for being with me here."

By which she meant not the kitchens, but the threshold of a brave new world…