My flirtations with Harry Potter crossovers with the Nasuverse continues, with one plot bunny that won't leave me alone. This one is with Fate/Zero. While I hope to make this a full story, it's dependent on me obtaining a copy of the Fate/Zero anime. I have read the first volume of the manga, though, and I have a rough idea of what happens in the story. I just need the anime to get a better idea of how to alter the story's finer details.
Anyway, like Light the Blue Touch Paper..., it has a Master of Death Harry. But the opening is somewhat different, and unlike my other Master of Death Harry stories, it's considerably darker. It's not without humour, but like Fate/Zero, this is going to be a dark work. It'll also have Harry/Arturia. Something about that pairing attracts me, considering they are two Chosen Ones who got royally shafted in their lives. And while Harry is going to be as cynical as Kiritsugu, he's also going to be nicer to Arturia than Kiritsugu, and call out Kiritsugu and Rider/Iskander on their criticism.
Just to clear things up, Harry hasn't quite been summoned as a Servant. Rather, he is a 'pseudo-Servant' here, an unofficial eighth Servant. Bluebeard will still be the official Caster. Harry hasn't got the power or skills to go up against Servants...save for his immortality.
EX UMBRA IN SOLEM
CHAPTER 1:
ENDING AND BEGINNING
The fear in the ancient chamber was palpable, so thick, it could be cut with a knife. It was directed, incongruously enough, at two sources within the chamber. One was an ancient stone archway, over which a veil fluttered gently in a non-existent wind. The other was the figure of a boy.
He was in his late teens, a scrawny scarecrow figure, on the verge of emaciation. His dark hair hung around his face in a matted mess. Green eyes, which once were like emeralds, were now dull and virtually lifeless. A faded scar, in the shape of a lightning bolt, was hidden by his tangled fringe. He was held up by a pair of Aurors while his sentence was read out, again. As a formality.
"…and so, for these crimes, and your abominable status, you are hereby sentenced to be cast through the Veil." That odious Batrachian Bitch Umbridge finally stopped talking. How he wished he had killed her when he first met her. So many here in this chamber were alive because Harry showed undue mercy. So many people were dead because of the same reason. People who were alive or dead when they didn't deserve to be.
And then she opened her mouth again. "Well? Have you nothing to say, 'Master of Death'? Has the Kneazle got your tongue, you abomination? No last words?"
A rasping chuckle emanated from the figure, which devolved into coughing. The smile the face bore was more of a grotesque rictus, a pseudo-snarl containing more teeth than levity. The eyes, once dull and lifeless, now bore the flickering embers of something that made lifelessness desirable by comparison. The embers of madness.
"Last words?" rasped the boy. "You never let me speak for myself, you bitch. I'd call you a whore, but nobody would ever sleep with the likes of you."
Umbridge whipped out her wand, about to cast the Cruciatus, before she restrained herself with an effort. "The likes of you should never be allowed to speak."
"I killed Voldemort for you, got rid of the Death Eaters, and is this to be my reward?" the boy demanded. "My friends are dead thanks to those you supported. Go on, roll up your sleeve, show us you don't have a Dark Mark."
"I don't answer to the likes of you," Umbridge sneered.
"You don't answer to anyone," the boy sneered back. "You want last words? Here they are. I hate you all. Everything and everyone I loved about Magical Britain was taken from me. I don't regret those deaths. In fact, I only regret two things: allowing myself to be a pawn to all and sundry, and not killing you and your ilk."
On a signal from Umbridge, the boy was dragged to the Veil. He didn't put up a fight. "This is the end, Harry Potter. Wherever the Veil leads, you won't be coming back."
Harry Potter managed to halt his escort at that, and glared at Umbridge. "I will find a way back. Do you hear me? I will correct the mistakes I made…INCLUDING ALL OF YOU!"
Even as he was hurled, soundlessly, through the Veil, the consternation in the chamber reached fever pitch. Even Umbridge, for a moment, actually believed him, and quaked briefly in fear. But the moment passed, and Magical Britain, all the poorer for the passing of so many, went on…
In the void, Harry Potter drifted. No King's Cross Station in the sky with Dumbledore to comfort him (though by this point, Harry would have kicked him in the balls repeatedly until they were cojone jam), no crowds of his friends and family…just nothing. Just a washed-out white nothingness.
For the time being, until he went crazy from sensory deprivation, he would enjoy it. Better than Azkaban.
Behold, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Saviour of Magical Britain…and Magical Britain's dirtiest secret. The man who killed Voldemort, and who wiped out most of the Death Eaters, killing off many lines in a bloody rampage of revenge, a rampage that left him here, a hollow wreck of what he once was.
So many deaths…his friends, his family, many of which could have been prevented if Dumbledore had been more forthcoming. Voldemort was dead, his Horcruxes destroyed…but it was a pyrrhic victory at best. Out of all his actual friends, only Harry survived. Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Luna, Lupin, Tonks, they had been killed during that battle. He frequently remembered, courtesy of the Dementors, a nightmarish vision of seeing Luna being killed by a Blasting Hex right in front of him.
It was his friends' deaths that set him on what they'd call a roaring rampage of revenge. And it was that that led him here. First, thrown into Azkaban by the Ministry of Magic as a preventative measure against a new Dark Lord. Then, they threw him through the Veil. Though not before some elements within the Ministry tried to have him killed.
The Kiss of the Dementors never worked: his soul remained stubbornly anchored to his body. The Killing Curse worked for all of ten seconds. Fiendfyre killed him for about an hour, while his ashes coalesced back together. Nothing killed him. Then again, even temporary death wasn't as bad as the gnawing nagging pain in his heart. Of having his friends die. Of the bastards who did it, or at least the ones who survived his rampage, getting away with it.
He would do almost anything to bring them back. But to be honest, the only way he could bring them back is if he could turn back time years and years, or find some magical wish-granting artifact. And there was really no such thing, was there?
As if bidden by his thoughts, a giant hand seemed to grasp at his body. He found himself being pulled through the void, a strange eldritch wind seeming to whip at his hair. For some reason, a shape seemed to form out of the void in front of him, almost like a mirror.
But it wasn't a mirror image. It was the image of a girl about his age, dressed in a blue dress that nonetheless had armoured pieces to it. Her blonde hair was done in a severe bun, her face beautiful but stern.
It was the eyes, however, that he noticed. Green, stern, like emeralds. Like his own…
In another world, in an ancient chapel abutted to a vast snowbound castle, a ritual was taking place. Despite it being in a chapel, it had the air of an occult summoning, as if to summon up a demon.
Which was, in a way, still a distinct possibility. But in truth, the ritual wasn't to summon up a demon, but a hero. This was a ritual used to summon a Heroic Spirit, one of the manifold heroes of myth and history, to act as a fighter for the Holy Grail War of Fuyuki, on behalf of a Magus. The Magus was known as a Master, and the Heroic Spirit, a Servant. Seven such pairs of Masters and Servants would fight to the death (only the Servants needed to die, but Masters were frequently targeted, as Servants relied on their Masters to supply them with energy) in the Japanese city of Fuyuki. All for the chance of one lucky Master and Servant winning the Holy Grail, a magical artifact that, it was said, could grant the wish of the last Master and Servant standing.
On the altar, a beautiful-looking metal scabbard lay. Near the circle, a pair of people stood. One of them was an eerily beautiful woman, apparently in her twenties, with snow white hair, pale skin, and red eyes. The other was a man, whose stubble-marred face was handsome, but with an air of weariness, as if the weight of the whole world, and his decisions in life, was on his shoulders. He was dressed in a suit, albeit a slightly dishevelled one, as if he slept in it.
The woman was Irisviel von Einzbern, and not technically a human being. Instead, she was a Homunculus, an artificial human being with one sole purpose in her creation: to be the Lesser Grail of the Grail War. Her body, eventually, would become the Holy Grail itself once the essence of enough Servants entered it.
The man was Kiritsugu Emiya. Despite only just entering his thirties, he already had a reputation as the Magus Killer, a ruthless mercenary who worked to clean up the most egregious messes his kind left. Magi were ruthless, amoral creatures for the most part, but Kiritsugu Emiya was even more so. It was strange, then, that underneath the cold-hearted exterior was the soul of an idealistic child who wanted nothing less than world peace, and he thought the Grail was what could give him that.
It was Kiritsugu who was chanting the ritual. The scabbard on the altar was Avalon, the enchanted sheathe that once housed Excalibur, the famed sword of King Arthur. It was Arthur that Kiritsugu intended to summon, channelling his magic into the ritual circle in front of him, as he spoke the words. "Heed my words. My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny. If you heed the Grail's call, and obey my will and reason, then answer my summoning! I hereby swear that I shall be all the good in the world, that I shall defeat all evil in the world! Seventh Heaven clad, and the great words of power, come forth from the circle of bindings, Guardian of the Scales!"
Now, Irisviel von Einzbern began to realise something was wrong partway through the summoning. She felt her magic being drained into the circle briefly, felt a pain on her hand that shouldn't be there. The instant before everything dissolved in a blast of white light and wind, Irisviel realised there were Command Seals on her hand. But that was impossible, wasn't it?
As the smoke and light died away, an exhausted Kiritsugu and a much-less tired Irisviel looked at the circle. It seemed that their attempt at summoning King Arthur was not a wholly unqualified success. They had expected one person to emerge from the circle, not two.
The most impressive of the figures was a girl, in her late teens, with blonde hair done up in a bun. She was wearing some sort of hybrid of blue dress and armour. There was something regal to her bearing, and to her stern but beautiful features. She seemed to clasp what seemed to be a weapon in her hand, though all that could be seen of it was rippling and swirling air.
The other figure was considerably less impressive, a near-emaciated scarecrow of a boy in his late teens, dressed in rags, messy black hair framing a haggard face, green eyes glinting with madness, and astonishment. He was staring around in confusion. Kiritsugu and his wife noted that his body seemed to be changing before their eyes, becoming less emaciated, still slender, but less like someone close to death's door. "What the bloody hell?" he croaked in English, expressing Kiritsugu and Irisviel's sentiments precisely.
The girl opened her own green eyes at that, startled, and wheeled to face him. "What folly is this?" she demanded.
"That's what I'd like to know," Kiritsugu said. "This ceremony was meant to summon Arthur, King of the Britons, as Saber."
The girl, seemingly realising this, turned back to face him. "Servant Saber has answered your summons. I ask of you, are you the one who summoned me?"
"You are the legendary King of Knights, Arthur?" Irisviel asked.
"Aye, that is what I am known to history's page as," Saber said. "Arturia was the name I was born under. Which of you was the one who summoned me?"
In another time, Kiritsugu would have merely stormed out of the chapel. But in this time, reluctantly, he held up his hand, showing the Command Seals on the back of it. He then looked over at the boy. "You, what class have you been summoned as?"
"What?"
"Answer me."
"How can I answer you when I don't know what the bloody question means?!" the boy protested. Kiritsugu frowned. He was either a good actor, or he genuinely didn't know. Indeed, there was something in the boy's eyes that reminded Kiritsugu of so many other eyes, of those with the weight of the world on their shoulders.
Irisviel studied her Command Seals, and said, "It seems like he was summoned as Caster, given the shape of the Command Seals, but…I'm detecting no drain on my reserves after the initial summoning. I'm not even sure if they work."
The boy blinked. "Command Seals? Caster? What the fuck are you talking about?!"
"Kindly restrain your language, lad!" Arturia snapped.
"Lad? You're no older than I am…wait, didn't you say you were King Arthur or something? I thought King Arthur was a man."
"Aye, that was how history portrayed me," Arturia said.
After a moment, the boy said, "Huh. Okay, King Arthur was a teenaged girl. Where are we, anyway? Not England, is it? Please tell me we're not anywhere near the Ministry of Magic?"
"…There is no Ministry of Magic," Kiritsugu said. "And no, you are not in England. You are in Germany, in the castle of the von Einzbern family."
"Never heard of them." Then, the boy blinked. "Wait, what? No Ministry of Magic? What year is it?"
"1994," Kiritsugu supplied(1), humouring the possible madman…or victim of one of Zelretch's pranks. The old vampire was known for his fiddling around with parallel worlds, this boy could have been one of his victims.
"…Fuck," the boy said bleakly. "It was just after New Year's, 2000, when they chucked me through the Veil. So the Tri-Wizard Tournament hasn't taken place yet at Hogwarts."
"Hogwarts? Tri-Wizard Tournament?" Irisviel asked. "Forgive me, but we don't know what those are, and we know much about the world of magic."
The boy looked at them sharply. "Not even Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived?"
Kiritsugu and Irisviel shook their heads simultaneously. Arturia, however, looked thoughtful. "Harry Potter…I believe I know of that name, through knowledge the Grail has provided me with. He is one who has haunted the Throne of Heroes, one of the few heroes of your time…and yet…if you know not his name, then this is a different world to what he knows. But…he cannot be a Heroic Spirit as he is now, or else he would know what the Grail War is. He must be an alternate from another world."
"Another world?" Harry asked in a bleak, empty tone. He put his head in his hands. "Oh, what the hell have I gotten myself into?"
It was a sentiment shared by the others present, and understandably so, especially given what was at stake here…
CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS:
So, here you have it, the first chapter of Ex Umbra in Solem. People will see a lot of the DNA of Light the Blue Touch Paper…, as well as Nitimur in Vetitum and Newport Mage. However, this will be a darker story.
1. Given that the original Fate/Stay Night was released in 2004, and that Fate/Zero is explicitly set during the 1990s (Bill Clinton is president of the US), I decided that, for the purpose of this story, Fate/Zero is set in 1994, while Fate/Stay Night is set in 2004.
