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 26 Descent into Nibelheim

"Avada kedavra!"

A flash of sickly green light tore through the air with a sickening sound of something ripping apart – a flash that Matou Shinji barely managed to dodge by jumping aside at the last second…and then, only because his attacker had called his attack.

'…what…what's going on…? Why?'

"Slow," his assailant commented bluntly. But the puppet called Tomas was always to the point about things. "Avada kedavra!"

Even now, as he tossed off another Killing Curse, with the Matou scion only able to dodge. If he'd been Quirrell, maybe he could have managed a spell defense, but he wasn't. He didn't know how to cast many Western spells nonverbally – Flipendo, yes, and the Disarming Charm, but he wasn't about to risk going head to head with his attacker when he knew the other was far beyond him…

'…even if he's telegraphing his attacks.'

That didn't matter, because there were very few things that could block the Killing Curse, and if it hit him, no matter where, he would die. Conjuring an item to block the beam wasn't something he could do yet, and he wasn't fast enough with a wand to—

'…I don't need a wand for this. Bind!'

Matou Shinji dodged yet a third spellbeam, but this time, as he moved one way, several ofuda fluttered out from Shinji's sleeves and raced for Tomas, who simply countered with a wandless wave of flame.

"I was wondering when you would fight back," the puppet noted blandly, his red eyes glinting in the dimness of the room. "You've made a rather poor showing so far, Stone Cutter."

"…are you…are you trying to kill me?" Shinji asked, trying to control his shaking. He couldn't think of a reason why the puppet would attack him. He'd come down to check in and see if Tomas was here while the kitsune and his apprentice were giving Shirou a tour of the more "public" areas of Mahoutokoro, and the other had indulged him with some talk – and then just opened up with deadly spells, once he in a position to block the exit.

To make it worse, Tomas hadn't even seemed angry or annoyed, or even to be using any special amount of effort. He'd just used the Killing Curse as if he was utterly used to it, as if it was a well-loved tool in his arsenal.

"Of course not, Matou," the other replied, the lack of menace – the lack of emotion whatsoever in his voice – utterly chilling, and utterly incongruous with the way the corners of his lips were curling up into a smirk. "If I was trying, I would at least be doing something like this."

With that, a barrage of powerful spells lanced from his fingertips towards Matou in the next moment, one after another silently streaking through the air.

Brilliant blue reductor curses, each of which could blast solid stone into a pile of dust – to say nothing of mere flesh.

Streaks of dark purple flame that tore through the air, shrieking as Shinji desperately evaded one, then the next.

And ethereal floating eyes wreathed in crimson flame which moved slowly but unerringly towards the boy, tracking him as he desperately tried to evade.

'Shit. I can't dodge these.'

He could dodge the others, but if he didn't fight back, the flaming eyes would reach him, and he didn't want to know what would happen then.

Plus, since they were on fire, his ofuda wouldn't be very useful, leaving him deprived of his main weapon.

Still, his wand was in his hand, so he wasn't helpless.

'Flipendo! Flipendo! Flipendo!'

The blue light of the knockback jinx flew from his wand once – twice – thrice, striking the floating eyes, crimson warring with azure for several long seconds before the jinx prevailed and the eyes struck faded from existence.

And in the opening provided by his counterattack, Matou Shinji reached inside himself, to the feeling he'd had when he'd first picked up his wand, as darkness leapt forth, a thick, heavy mist which consumed all light in its path, engulfing the room in a cloud of living shade, which hissed, whispered, roiled about.

'He shouldn't be able to find me in this, right?'

So he hoped. Still, he listened for any sign of Tomas' next move. Hearing nothing, he made to move…except that he could not. Every muscle of his body was frozen in place. He couldn't move so much as a finger, so much as a toe, so much as his eyes.

He could only look forward into utter darkness, as the dissonant whispers grew louder, louder, louder still, until he could almost make out the words.

He was completely and utterly helpless.

"You are familiar with the effects of the Total Body Bind, I believe," the other spoke dispassionately from somewhere…behind him? "An inventive strategy, using it against Alastor Moody as you did. For it is not always the most powerful spell that hits. Often, it is imply the one least expected."

Shinji said nothing, for he could not while under the effects of Petrificus Totalus.

"You're probably wondering how I knew where you were," Tomas continued, his voice coming from another direction now. Was the puppet…circling him? "In a word, legilimency."

…one could use legilimency in that way? Shinji had thought it only useful for obtaining information from someone's mind, but he'd thought he'd protected his mi—

'—oh. All he has to do is sense my mind, not read it.'

"A rare and powerful skill, legilimency, possessed not only by myself but the wizard you have declared your mortal foe: Lord Voldemort. Few know its limitations better. Skilled though you may be for your age, your defensive capabilities are unable to withstand us. You use tools you barely understand, rely on trickery, deception, surprise. But what happens, Matou Shinji, when your surprises are spent, when your strength, such that it is, is irrelevant?"

The mirthless laughter of the puppet echoed in the darkness, blending with the hissing of the shadows to become something far more disturbing.

'…his voice. I think I can track him by his voice. 'Blind and Bind. Blind and Bind!'

Several ofuda fluttered out from Shinji's sleeves and raced for the last known location of the puppet, where two in the lead hit an invisible barrier and were disintegrated, exploding harmlesslyin an incandescent blaze that for a moment pushed the darkness aside…long enough for him to see the binding ofuda destroyed as well.

"That response I expected, given a knowledge of your preferred tactics. You have faced me before, and as any competent wizard does, I adapt. Your attempts at resistance are charming, but they lack creativity and are ultimately futile against those who are prepared," Tomas noted, as ropes materialized to bind Shinji's sleeves, and his wand out of his hand into the darkness. "Do you understand that, Matou Shinji?"

The question hung in the air for a long, long moment, with Shinji unable to respond. Still, he understood. He understood only too well.

As if recognizing that – probably because he was still using Legilimency, Tomas cast a wordless "Finite Incantaeum" with the cherry wand of the Matou boy, a lazy wave of his hand banishing the darkness and ropes – and ending the effect of the Full Body Bind.

"…all this…was for a lesson?" Shinji croaked out, unable to believe that Tomas had done all that and simply left him alive afterwards.

"Of course," the other responded, his expression blank as untouched stone. "Your opponents are powerful individuals, with great knowledge of the Dark Arts – much like myself, but far less restraint. Your key advantage was that they might underestimate you, but with the attention your Society has received, and the way your friend Mister Potter has been named the Heir of Slytherin, I doubt they will continue to do so."

Tomas chuckled once more, a dry, hollow sound that was more disturbing than anything else.

"At least, the one who calls himself Lord Voldemort will not, given that he, like you, came from more humble beginnings," the puppet intoned. "But you already know that, given your conversations with Helena Ravenclaw."

'My conversations with…shit.'

It was then that he recalled his first conversation with the ghost of Ravenclaw house – one in which the diadem had been discussed, including how it had come to be at Hogwarts, courtesy of a wizard who called himself Lord Voldemort, but whose true name was Tom.

"I grant that you have mastered the basics of Occlumency, but your implementation is not without flaws. During combat, you prioritize hiding your plans and immediate actions, which is correct – but the protections around your general thoughts slip, leaving certain memories unguarded. Even if you have an extra partition, it is useless if you don't use it properly," Tomas noted, even as he idly examined the wand he held. "An odd wand. Its core does not feel like any I have used. But then, my old wand's core was the feather of a phoenix."

Shinji swallowed, certain details about that long-ago conversation coming to the forefront of his mind.

"Are you…?"

"No."

Tomas said this mildly, but there was a bit of an edge to the voice, one Shinji didn't think he'd notice if he hadn't known the puppet as he did.

"No, and I have no love for that one," Tomas repeated, his lips curling downwards in a frown. "For him, blood was everything, because it was that very blood – both Muggle and Wizard – which had spurned him, rejected him, abandoned him like trash. Imagine being left on the doorstep of an orphanage as a baby, growing up as a ward of the state, never being adopted, always being passed over as he grew older. Other children thought he was strange, picked on him for growing up there, abandoned by a mother who had once been part of the circus – or so they overheard from the staff, who so loved to gossip. So when he found out he was special, that he could talk to snakes, lift objects with his mind, hurt those who hurt him, he gloried in it."

The puppet smiled slightly, a wan brittle smile that only lasted for a second.

"Imagine what that must have been like – to find out that he wasn't worthless. That he was special. But you know that feeling well, don't you, Matou Shinji?"

Shinji shivered, for he did.

"Yes, that's right. After receiving your letter from Hogwarts and finding out about Mahoutokoro, you threw yourself into the study of the magical arts, pushing everything else aside. I imagine your friend Granger did as well, given her abilities, as a number of individuals do. You both wanted to be special, to be recognized, to be accepted, yes?"

Shinji only nodded. What else could he say?

"And then came the day that Tom Marvolo Riddle found out about magic from a man named Albus Dumbledore. He thought the man was a psychiatrist, come to take him to the loony bin, only to find that no, he was the professor of Transfiguration at something called Hogwarts." Tomas shook his head, as if to clear it of an unpleasant memory. "But Dumbledore was no friend to young Tom, nor was he much good with understanding children. He did not understand how Tom had been alone, had been bullied, had been hurt, and mentioned only that there were laws that controlled the usage of magic – and that lawbreakers were punished severely not by just Hogwarts but the Ministry of Magic."

Shinji thought back to his first encounter with an irate Dumbledore, when the man had mentioned that Argus Filch had tried to have him expelled for an act of self-defense.

"Even if Dumbledore himself was hardly blameless. Were it not for the death of his sister in a duel – likely at his hand, too – he would have fought by Gellert Grindelwald's side to overthrow the governments of Magical Europe and sought dominion over the Muggle World. Yet among the first things he said to a child who had been 'friendless and alone', in his words, was to say that he would be watched – to treat him with suspicion, not acceptance. In the years to come, no matter what the boy did, no matter that he was a model student, became a prefect, eventually became Head Boy and was loved by the staff, Dumbledore suspected him. And so the boy grew to despise him, and the casual cruelty of the world of Albus Dumbledore."

Tomas approached him, crimson eyes boring into grey as he came closer, closer, closer still.

"Rejected by that world, just as he had been by the word of the Muggles, the boy sought revenge. He sought to become powerful enough that none might cast him aside ever again, to force them to accept him – as their lord, if they would not accept a peer. He looked into his past, into his lineage, into his blood, embracing the title of Heir of Slytherin to cow those of his house, delving into arts most left well enough alone for even an ounce more power, his goal unchanged – crushing all those who had wronged him, both pureblood and mundane, and making a new order free of such things, once the trappings of the old had perished."

Tomas sighed then, his face looking decades older in that moment – though whether from grief or something else, Shinji couldn't say.

"But…he failed, right?" Shinji asked.

"That's right," Tomas confirmed bitterly. "He failed, like most who sought utopia. He failed because Magical Britain is a backwards, miserable place that didn't know – didn't teach – that the soul was not simply what kept a person alive, but what gave shape to one's mind and being. He failed because in his quest for immortality and power, he lost who he was, retaining only the desire for dominion, but not the why. And so he became a monster, a shell of a person, like Albus Dumbledore before him, seeking to rule through fear – but in the end, he himself was ruled by fear and hate. Fear of death, fear of defeat, fear of others rejecting him – and so he met his end at the hands of the Boy-Who-Lived. Or so I surmise, anyway."

Tomas smiled thinly then, an almost conspiratorial smile.

"Like you, much of that boy's story is mine. Like him, I am descended from Slytherin and Peverell. Like him, I am a Parselmouth. Like him, I wish to defeat death. But from there, our stories differ. I have no wish to conquer that hive of corruption and ignorance that calls itself Magical Britain. Such a thing is so…small when set against the knowledge of the world, and all the wonders thereof. And unlike Lucifer from Milton's Paradise Lost, I think it better to serve in heaven than rule in hell – at least for now."

How long it would remain that way was another story entirely, but then, even in his old life, Tomas had been known for keeping secrets.

"I see."

"Do you? I wonder," Tomas murmured, as a look of what might almost have been grief flittered across his expression. "In any case, that is the nature of your enemy. An exceptionally powerful wizard, but one who has forgotten why he sought power in the first place, and one prone to obsession over those who dare to defy him." He shook his head, harrumphing once. "And so I find myself saddled with the task of helping you to stay alive, given our master's instructions."

"My wand might be helpful for that," Shinji commented dryly, eying the length of cherry still in the puppet's hands.

Tomas visibly hesitated for a moment, fingering the wand as if savoring its feel in his hands, but handed the wand over to its rightful owner quickly enough.

"Yes, indeed it might," the teen intoned, studying Shinji critically. "Working on your Occlumency so you can fade from the battlefield entirely might also help. As well as other uses for your ofuda."

"Oh?"

This last bit had Shinji rather intrigued, as he didn't see how they would help too much against an opponent prepared for them. Even elemental ofuda could be blocked, after all.

"Using them to disrupt the effects of a spell like the Full Body Bind, for instance, or to provide resistance against the Stunning Spell," Tomas explained. "As I understand it, you essentially cast your spells in advance to prepare ofuda, which you then may deploy with a thought, correct?"

Shinji nodded.

"What if you could do the same with the General Counterspell – Finite Incantatem, or the equivalent in your eastern thaumaturgy?" the puppet asked, crimson eyes glinting. "Or the Reviving Spell – which you may learn later – as an instant counter to the Stunner, given that both flare red? Your opponent may well know your propensity to use ofuda for attack, but what about using it for protection? Or to escape if you have to?"

"…I hadn't thought of that," Shinji admitted, turning over the idea in his mind. It was…surprisingly elegant, allowing him to mimic the way magi could repel an enemy's magical energy with their own (which was why when magi fought, they generally used nature interference thaumaturgy against one another, instead of something more direct, as those spells tended to work only when delivered via touch or when one's internal defenses were undeveloped).

"See that you work on it. I expect you to be more prepared to face me this summer," Tomas replied, the expression on his face all the more disturbing for the lack of actual malice in it. "And know that if you wish even a chance at victory, you will have to come at me with everything you have."

With that, the puppet stepped aside and sat down, going inactive – perfectly, inhumanly still – in the way that he so often did when he was simply done talking.

He left his master's workshop after that, knowing that if Tomas had wanted to kill him, he would already be dead. The other practitioner of witchcraft was so far above him that it was terrifying, but for Shinji, that just meant there was another goal to aspire to. For being a magus meant to walk with death, and even if his current craft didn't directly lead to him risking life and limb, his position and ambitions did.

And so he was grateful his master – and her puppet – was taking his survival seriously.

Sometime later, Matou Shinji found himself in the shop whimsically named Root of the Sky, speaking with its proprietor – the young woman named Matsuo Hijiri, current Maiden of the Tree and master to the ancient fox Kaiduka.

"The wand is serving you well, I trust?" Hijiri asked, her traditional attire of a long, red, slightly pleated skirt tied with a bow, a white haori and white ribbons in her hair rather striking in the diffuse light of the sun.

"Quite," Shinji answered. He hesitated, not knowing if he should continue, but figured that she was the crafter, and so deserved to know. "Even if it is sometimes temperamental."

"With its core and your personality, I am hardly surprised," the maiden noted, tossing her hair slightly as she smiled. "Cherry wood wands tend to be powerful, and the wood of the great tree, most of all. It is old, after all, and age confers a sense of mystery."

"That much I know," the Matou scion murmured.

"Ah, that's right, you were born into a family of magi, weren't you?"

"Indeed."

Even if he wasn't on the best terms with his family, and would rather not think about his past, there was no denying that he was a Matou. His wand, at least, was in part a product of his family, after all, and studying the family arts had shaped his mind and personality.

"A curious thing, given that a magi's human heritage generally precludes the inheritance of some of the other aspects of demon or fey blood," Hijiri observed. "A fading bloodline, then?"

Shinji just nodded.

"No doubt one that had been tied to another land and steeped in its mysteries," she noted coolly. "Humans do not exist entirely apart from the world, after all. They are affected by what is around them, even if they have the power to alter their environment more than most. Magi especially."

She chuckled then, gesturing to the small window of the shop.

"But then, this city would not have become what it was if not for that, in part," Hijiri said, her crimson eyes almost wistful. "Speaking of bloodlines, Kaiduka thanks you for accommodating his request. It is not often that a lost heir to one of the Old Families is found."

"Ah, I was happy to help," Shinji replied, though he frowned as he thought back to his encounter with the golden child. "It's better for him to be away from Fuyuki, given the influence of the priest and…other factions."

"…other factions?"

The maiden seemed mildly intrigued by this, and Shinji thought it probably wouldn't hurt to tell her about the boy he'd run into while on his…outing with Tohsaka Rin at Christmas. So he did, relating the events of the night, without leaving out too much.

"An outing with the Second Owner over Christmas? My, how bold," Hijiri commented with a wry smile. "Especially when you had me craft a sculpture of a kirin for a young lady in Britain."

"I-it's not like that," Shinji protested, somewhat embarrassed as he remembered how the girl had simply fallen asleep next to him on the bench, how she had said she didn't want to go home, and wanted to spend time with him. And of course, how Luna would probably have smiled as she got the gift, as she had when he'd given her that origami frangipani.

"…if you say so, Matou," the other said skeptically, before her expression turned serious. "In any case, I hardly think it a coincidence that this being visited you while you were with the Second Owner. Given the…ritual that takes place in your city, the boy may be related to that."

"…yes, I was afraid of that," the Matou boy murmured. "Any suggestions on what I should do?"

"I would advise against catching his attention again, if possible. At least for the time being. You have enough complications with your life in Britain as it is, without another factor in the mix."

"Right…" Shinji noted, closing his eyes. Speaking of complications though… "I wanted your advice on something else, if that's not too much trouble?"

"Speak."

And so he did, laying out the situation with Gilderoy Lockhart that had him so troubled: the offer he had made, the peculiarities about the man, and the way he seemed to be maneuvering to erode the independence of the Stone Cutters.

"In this case, the path forward is clear," Hijiri spoke after taking his concerns into account. "Accept the man's offer."

Shinji blinked.

"A confrontation at this point would be unwise, and as you yourself point out, a partnership could be mutually beneficial," she elaborated, shrugging slightly. "If you wished to reject him, you should have done so from the beginning. With you associating with him as you have, the man knows – or at least suspects – too much to be simply put aside. You may not trust him, it is true, but I find the offer he made telling as to his motives."

"Oh?"

"Self-interest," Hijiri explained, hiding a smile with her sleeve. "The man clearly enjoys having power and influence, and it is likely he believes an association with the Boy-Who-Lived will benefit him in that regard. Which it likely will, to be fair, just as having someone with the rights to tell his story will discourage others who may be…just as ambitious but less forthright about it."

"And if he isn't trustworthy…?"

"You may deal with that when the time comes, preferably by holding him to silence with some secret of his that he does not wish revealed, if you can learn it. And how better to ensure you can than to accept his offer?"

"…that's a good point," Shinji conceded. "Thank you."

"Of course," the maiden said agreeably. "If you do intend to accept, it may be a wise idea to procure a present of some sort for the man as a symbol of respect. He would be taking on the role of the storyteller and publicist, so it would be wise to be on good terms, yes?"

"What did you have in mind?" the Matou scion asked, curious as to what she'd suggest.

"You mentioned that this Lockhart is an adventurer as well as a scholar, yes?" she asked, to which Shinji nodded. "Then I would suggest a calligraphy set for Lockhart, the traditional gift for a scholar, given that in our culture, calligraphy was once the art by which a scholar could compose his thoughts to be immortalized, and to share his or her own learnedness."

"That does sound like something he'd like," Shinji admitted. "I don't suppose you have any here…?"

"None you would wish to buy. What is sold here is things I have crafted, mostly implements of power, though I will take the occasional commission for something more decorative if the project interests me, as you know."

"For a hefty fee, of course."

"Naturally," Hijiri said dryly. "The laborer is worthy of her reward, after all. Is there anything else I can help you with today?"

"Well, I was hoping you could make me an omamori." Shinji was a little uneasy requesting something like this from her, but figured if anyone could make one with true power, she could. "You are Maiden of the Tree, after all."

…and after his encounter with Tomas, he figured that it probably wouldn't hurt to obtain an amulet of protection for Harry, since he hadn't gotten the boy a real gift yet, beyond the Hand of Glory and the book on healing he'd sourced from the Room of Requirement.

Omamori, being literally the honorific term of the word "to protect", were just that – amulets of protection commonly sold at religious sites, which might contain paper or wood inscribed with a prayer, wish, or other such, all wrapped in a covering of brocaded silk. By custom, once made and consecrated, they were not to be opened to avoid losing their power, and were to be carried on one's person, where they would absorb or deflect ill luck or intent meant for the one protected.

"I do not often make these, but you have done a favor for Kaiduka, so I suppose I can oblige you this once," the maiden conceded reluctantly. "Do inform him that the omamori should not simply be thrown away, but should be brought back to Mahoutokoro at the end of the year, if it survives that long."

"I will," Shinji said evenly.

"I will have it crafted then. But before I go to do so, Kaiduka wanted to offer you a boon for your service. Did you have any requests?"

There were two things that stood out in his mind, really. First, over the summer, Shinji thought he should probably find a familiar of his own, and well, having a kitsune of Kaiduka's standing help him with that could be quite helpful in obtaining a good one.

…or at least, one that wasn't one of the cats, toads, owls, or rats sold in the stores for convenience.

Other than that, Hijiri's comments had brought to mind some of the thoughts he'd had about the inhuman heritage of practitioners of witchcraft, and how some had the power to tap into their heritage as animagi…

That way had the promise of power…but Shinji was also smart enough to know he probably wasn't ready to tap into those things quite yet, not when there was so much of his other arts to learn. He supposed he should settle on one thing for now.

"Well…I do intend to find a familiar this summer."

"And you wish aid with that?" Hijiri asked, a sly smile crossing her lips. "That much Kaiduka can arrange, I'm sure."

"…there is one other thing."

This was probably a little impulsive, but…

"Yes?"

"My…friend Luna Lovegood will be visiting this summer."

"The one curious about the animals of our land, especially about the Kirin,"

"Yes. Might it be possible to help her with finding a familiar as well?" Shinji asked. He knew he was pushing it a bit, but surely it wouldn't be too much to add one more person…

Hijiri laughed, a sound clear as a bell, full of mirth and good cheer. She laughed for several long minutes, though it never like she was laughing at him. Well, not exactly.

"Ah," she murmured, once she'd stopped laughing – though she still wore a large smile on her face. "Sometimes I forget what it's like to be young and impetuous." She shook her head, chuckling a bit. "Very well, I'm sure Kaiduka won't mind. Kistune do have a weak spot for romance, after all."

"…it's really not like that," Shinji protested, though he could see his words were falling on deaf ears.

"I'll have the amulet crafted for you and delivered to your quarters before you return to Hogwarts. For now, I believe you have gifts to buy for the rest of your friends, yes?"

"…aah, yes."

That was something he hadn't gotten around to all winter, due to the business in Fuyuki.

"Any suggestions?"

"I doubt you can go wrong with some sugary confections," Hijiri noted, hiding her smile once more. "At least if you don't want to break the budget for mystical gifts beyond what you've already done."

"…I'll take your word for it."

For the most part, that was indeed what Matou Shinji did, given what he ended up buying for his friends back in Britain. And why not since sweets were both delicious and relatively light on the pocketbook. It even ended up being a nice time of closure, since Shirou ended up joining him partway, with them snacking while they shopped, and discussing what lay ahead of them for the year.

(Not that he didn't have a decent sum to work with, but much of that was still back in Britain at Gringotts).

For the Weasley Twins, he obtained a large crate of Pocky (usually sold as Mikado in Europe), those chocolate-coated biscuit sticks that were a very popular treat for teenagers in Japan and much of the rest of Asia. Just in case they didn't like chocolate, of course, he'd sprung for the variety pack, which aside from chocolate, had coatings of milk, mousse, green tea, honey, banana, cookies and cream, coconut and more.

For Hillard, a gift of mochi ice cream – small round dessert balls with a layer of soft, pounded rice cake on the outside and ice cream filling within – enchanted not to melt, in a variety of creamy flavours such as matcha green tea, vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, and red bean (azuki), as well as pistachio, cookies and cream, rocky road, and hokey pokey (which featured bits of honeycomb toffee in vanilla).

For Hermione, he settled on a box of Mifuyu, one of Ishiya Company's delectable confections, with a name inspired by the "beautiful winters" of Hokkaido and its lovely scenery…and by the Japanese pronunciation of the French pastry "mille-feuille," given that it was a confection made of couverture chocolate sandwiched between layers of airy, puffy mille-feuille.

It was utterly delicious, with the rich, chocolaty flavor, complemented by the fine butter in the pastry, filling one's mouth with wonder with each bite of white chocolate and sweet chestnut, dark chocolate and blueberry, or milk chocolate and caramel.

The smooth texture, the airy crispness of it, the colors and scents – it was heavenly. Even the packaging was exquisite, with the winter scenery of diamond dust glittering on a cold winter morning depicted on the lovely gift package.

For Professor Flitwick, he obtained a hand-painted Japanese Stoneware Tea Set adorned with red plum blossoms, along with a case of sencha green tea, as he knew his Head of House had a fondness for the drink.

For Professor Snape, he didn't think something sweet would be appropriate, so he bought the man a bulb of an herb called Witch's Ganglion. It was rare and endemic to the Far East, so he thought the Professor might enjoy it, if he didn't have some already.

And as for Luna, there could be none other than the Ishiya Company signature product – the Shiroi Koibito. One of the most famous cookies in all of Japan, it featured creamy white chocolate sandwiched between freshly baked langue de chat biscuits – cookies of French origin baked until the edges were just the faintest golden brown, with a delicate, crumbly texture that simply melted in one's mouth.

Shinji had never tasted anything like it before, and couldn't decide what he liked better, the white chocolate original recipe, or the new variety with dark chocolate, made with cocoa butter, powder and milk from the small town of Akayama.

So he ended up buying a gift tin with an assortment of both – a tin adorned with the striking image of Mt. Rishiri, its uttermost pinnacle captured within the golden outline of heart.

"I hope she'll like it," Shinji murmured, as he placed this into his bag as well. He'd never asked if Luna liked sweets, but he couldn't imagine she wouldn't.

"A foreign girl is your Shiroi Koibito – err, is getting these from you?" Shirou asked, raising his eyebrows. He was usually pretty dense, but this was a bit… "…I'm sure she'll like how they taste."

"Hopefully," Shinji answered, though to what part he wouldn't say.

"So you're going back to Britain, huh, Matou?"

"That's the plan, Emiya. And you? Staying in Fuyuki, or coming here?"

Shinji was genuinely curious about this, given that he didn't think Emiya would be very happy in Fuyuki, not if he wanted to learn magecraft and escape the priest's eye.

"I'm finishing up the year in Fuyuki – the school term ends in March. Then Mifune, where my sister is, apparently. Then back here, where Kaiduka said he'll arrange for a tutor for me."

"Well…good luck, Emiya."

"You as well, Matou."

The remainder of Shinji's time before returning to Hogwarts was spent doing errands and working on his ofuda, given that he did need a bit more practice with them. He was close to a breakthrough with water elemental craft, which he figured he'd work out soon enough at the Room of Requirement, but there other things on his mind too.

The business with Lockhart, electives for next year, and the usual politics of student life. And of course, he had hoped to spend more time with his master and learn from her this winter, but he supposed summer would have to do.

Plus there was the Sirius Black affair that left him a bit nervous, since he didn't know what had happened in Magical Britain in his absence. Had anything drastic happened while he was in Japan?

He didn't know – he just knew it was going to be a long term ahead.

What he didn't expect though, was for a grave looking Professor Flitwick to greet him at the Hogsmeade Platform in person.

"Good, you're the last one, Mister Matou," the half-goblin squeaked, wiping his brow with a handkerchief. "We were getting a little worried."

That was not something he liked to hear…

"…what's wrong, Professor?" he asked, his instincts warning him that if the usually composed Flitwick were acting like this, there was something very wrong indeed.

But Flitwick didn't answer directly.

"Let's get you to the Great Hall," the professor said instead. "I'm sure Lucius Malfoy would prefer to only have to say it once."

'Lucius…Malfoy?'

Shinji couldn't imagine a situation where that man would be addressing the students of Hogwarts, since he didn't think the Headmaster liked him very much.

"Why Lucius Malfoy and not the Headmaster?" he inquired, only for Flitwick to wince and shake his head.

"…you'll see, Matou."

It wasn't a particularly long stroll, but something felt off, all the same. Hogsmeade was deathly quiet, with no hustle-bustle in the streets. There were no students outside on the Hogwarts grounds, and aside from the hit wizards assigned to the Castle, he thought he recognized the red cloaks of Aurors.

Soon enough, they reached the main entrance and proceeded inside to the Great Hall, where all the faculty, staff, and students had been gathered, along with a number of others…all gathered, that is, except for the Headmaster, whose seat lay empty. There was a man standing off to the side who looked somewhat like Albus Dumbledore, but obviously was not.

'A brother…?'

And more importantly, both Minister Fudge and Lucius Malfoy were present.

Knowing that it was not a time for questions, Shinji made his way to the Ravenclaw table, trunk in tow, and took the open seat next to Luna.

"With the arrival of our last…student, we may finally begin," Lucius Malfoy drawled. "Did you not receive the owl recalling you to Hogwarts, Mister Matou?"

"No, sir," Shinji replied. "I must have missed it. Or your owl not arrived yet. It takes time to fly to Japan."

"…ah, yes, of course," the man noted. "In any case, Minister, if you would."

Fudge stepped forward to the dais at the front of the room, his lime-green bowler hat held in his hands.

"Faculty, staff, and students of Hogwarts," he began, shaking his head. "It is with great sadness that I announce that Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of the Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, passed away over the winter holidays."

There was a gasp from some of the students, a whisper of "No!" from others, others who simply shook their heads – and then some who didn't much care, since they were never close to the Headmaster to begin with.

"He was a hero," Fudge continued. "A great man who might have been Minister, save that he cared more about the students of Hogwarts and helping to prepare young wizards and witches for the world ahead than any title. He was the Slayer of Grindelwald, the only one who You-Know-Who ever feared. He was a member of the Order of Merlin. And to some of us, he was a friend."

"Out of respect for his passing, and to allow those who wish the chance to attend memorials, the Hogwarts Board of Governors is cancelling classes for the remainder of the week," Lucius Malfoy added, his face a solemn mask that betrayed no emotion. "When classes resume, Professor Minerva McGonagall will serve as Acting Headmaster, in the time before a new Headmaster is appointed."

Professor McGonagall herself looked stricken with grief, given that Dumbledore had been one of her oldest friends. When Professor Snape had returned only days ago, on the heels of the phoenix's lament, with Albus' wand and a new will, she'd feared the worst – and now it had come to pass.

"Fear not, however," Lucius continued. "As Hogwarts is home to some of the most talented wizards in all of Britain, it is only natural that our first choices will come from its staff. Minister?"

"Magical Britain would not be what it is today, if not for Albus Dumbledore," Fudge said quietly, though his voice carried to the whole room. "Join me now in a moment of silence as we honor the man."

Those assembled did so, before the gathered masses were dismissed, with some talking about Dumbledore, some talking about who they thought would make the best headmaster, or concerned for their jobs, the Stone Cutters heading for their Tower clustering to discuss the development, and one Gilderoy Lockhart humming the strains of a melody some might recognize as that of Benjamin Britten's "The Turn of the Screw."