Well, I have to say, I like your response to this story so far. True, it'll be a while before it becomes a published story, if it does at all. But I have a good feeling about this one. As of writing this preamble, I'm on the fourth chapter. I usually write at least eight before I publish the story properly. I've been trying to do another Fate/Apocrypha crossover with the Potterverse (or indeed any franchise) for a while now. Hopefully, this will be the next one.
BRIDEGROOM OF FRANKENSTEIN
CHAPTER 2:
A SMALL MATTER OF SECESSION
Harry was trying very hard not to panic. Here he was, in Romania, and, if what Darnic told him before leaving, he was on another world, a parallel version of Earth. His friends could be dead or dying within the Department of Mysteries, Sirius could be anywhere, and he was stuck here.
For a moment, Darnic took the other two, the brown-haired siblings, out of the room, apparently to confer, before the two came back in. They were a boy and a girl, a little older than him. The boy, Caules, reminded him of himself, and not just because of the glasses, but there was some of the timidity he used to have before he spent long enough at Hogwarts to shake that off. Fiore reminded him a little of Hermione, and he felt another pang at the thought of his friend (even after they kept him in the dark, he still thought of Hermione as a friend), possibly dead thanks to Dolohov's curse.
He wasn't sure whether he could trust them. Hell, after being kept in the dark by his friends, being forced to endure Umbridge's detentions, Snape's idea of Occlumency lessons, and bullshit from every corner, he wasn't sure he could trust anyone anymore. But he remained calm. In fact, he felt less angry and irritable than he had for a long time. He needed to find out more about his situation, and how he could get out of it.
He was led to a shower, and then given new clothes, though he noted they didn't return his wand yet. Then, he was led to a drawing room, where one of the many similar people with light brown hair and pink eyes served tea. Homunculi, Fiore identified them as, a form of robot created by magecraft.
"You miss your home, don't you?" Fiore said gently as she sipped from her cup. Her tone was pleasant and reassuring.
"My friends may be dead. I was fighting a warlock called Voldemort," Harry said.
"A warlock…Uncle Darnic said you may have come from another world. We rarely use the term warlock these days to denote rogue Magi. Unfortunately, I doubt that Uncle Darnic will let you go any time soon. While we do believe that you stumbled across us by accident, we are in the middle of a rather delicate situation. Yggdmillennia is about to secede, that is, break away from the Magus Association."
Harry frowned. "Why?"
"A number of reasons. The Magus Association is a calcified organisation that refuses to recognise talent or merit, instead relying on the prestige of lineage. True, magecraft gets stronger with each generation of Magi, but they are hostile to newcomers and new blood, as well as those who do not fit into their preconceived notions," Fiore said. "Indeed, they have been known to destroy anyone they deem unfit to be part of their circle. Uncle Darnic fell victim to such scapegoating. Clock Tower claimed his bloodline would fall within a few years, and he was abandoned by those he considered his allies. That was over eight decades ago."
"Eight decades ago?" Harry asked. Darnic looked like he was in his twenties, maybe his early thirties at the oldest. "Does he use the Philosopher's Stone or something?"
"Philosopher's Stone? Does that exist on your world?" Caules asked.
"I don't think that is the case," Fiore said. "I mean for Uncle Darnic to have used something like that. As secretive as Magi are about research, I think we would have heard something by now. However, there are many ways to extend life, even if they are risky, even the benign ones."
Harry frowned. That wasn't reassuring, but he decided to put that on the backburner for now. "Well, the Philosopher's Stone exists…well, used to exist on my world, but if you're breaking away from this Magus Association because they're like the Ministry back home…well, how are you going to stop them?"
"Ah, now that's the clever bit," Caules said. "We have what is known as the Holy Grail. Well, not the cup of Jesus Christ like you'd think, but rather, a magical artifact created two centuries ago. You see, back then, three Magi families came together to try and find a way to Akasha. Akasha, you see, is the Root of All Things. It's basically the source of all knowledge and magic. The von Einzberns of Germany, the Makiris of Russia, and the Tohsakas of Japan. But, in order to make sure the Grail reached Akasha, it needed power, and they decided to make a contest of it."
"The Holy Grail Wars of Fuyuki," Fiore said. "What they devised seems rather convoluted, but seven Magi summon seven Heroic Spirits to act as familiars."
"Heroic Spirits?" Harry asked.
"Yes, the spirits of heroes from myth, legend and history," Fiore said. "The likes of King Arthur, or Heracles, or Alexander the Great. These familiar forms of Heroic Spirits are called Servants, and each belongs to one of seven classes: Saber, Lancer, Archer, Berserker, Rider, Caster, and Assassin. Once six of the seven Servants have been felled, the Grail is primed to grant a single wish to the surviving Servant and their Master. This is why the Servants assent to become familiars, as they frequently have wishes of their own. Uncle Darnic has already summoned a Lancer Servant, whom you will probably meet before long. In life, he was Vlad III of Wallachia, better known as Vlad Tepes or Vlad the Impaler, the inspiration for Count Dracula."
"And if you value your life, do NOT mention Dracula around Lancer, please," Caules said. "He hates being thought of as a vampire."
"Right, got it," Harry said. He personally thought this sounded insane, but these two didn't seem insane. And he'd hate to piss off Vlad Tepes, given the man's infamous cruelty.
"Hmm. However, this Holy Grail War is different. Instead of a battle royale between seven Servants, there are now two opposing teams. The hidebound fools at Clock Tower have apparently dubbed us the Black Faction, and they call themselves the Red Faction, as if to sound righteous," Fiore said. "They do not like that we take in Magi who have reason to despise Clock Tower. That being said…once the conflict is over, we might be able to help you find your way back home."
"How?"
"One of the top Magi at Clock Tower is the wielder of the Second True Magic, Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg, better known as Zelretch. He has the ability to view and traverse parallel universes. However, given our schism from Clock Tower, contacting him to help you is understandably a dangerous thing to do. Should we succeed, though, we can negotiate with him from a position of strength, and even if we fail, Zelretch is notorious for disdaining the usual politics of the Magus Association, so he should be willing to help, theoretically."
Caules grimaced. "Assuming he doesn't put you through the grinder on a whim," he muttered.
"Caules, he only does that to his apprentices," Fiore said. "And not to all of them. I'm sure he'd help someone in need. However, the situation as it is now would prevent Harry from being able to contact him safely." She turned her gaze back to Harry. "Uncle Darnic has effectively declared war on Clock Tower with his declaration of secession. It is perhaps safest for you to remain here, at least for now. Don't worry, unless you are actively fighting on our behalf, it is against the rules for enemy Magi to target you."
Harry groaned. "That's not reassuring. I'm just in the middle of another bloody deadly magical tournament…"
"Hmm…a rather interesting occurrence, then, Darnic," Vlad III remarked, toying with a glass of wine. He took the form of a pale man with blonde hair framing handsome but sharp features. His eyes were sunken, but piercing. "And you are sure this intruder is not your enemy?"
"Not in the sense that he is one of Clock Tower's curs, Your Majesty," Darnic said, in a deferential tone. Not oleaginous or obsequious, but with the respect the former voivode felt he was due. "That being said, I have the sneaking suspicion that he is…young, impetuous, and with principles that will be rather annoying. If we are lucky, then he will not interfere, and once this fracas is over and done with, well, we can send him off to Zelretch, make him the Wizard Marshall's problem."
Darnic actually had no intention of doing so. Avicebron's analysis had stuck in his mind, and Darnic was considering something. He remained youthful by fusing with the soul of an infant when need be. And while it was a risk fusing with an older subject, the benefits could be worthwhile. Even if the risk was too much, Darnic could always vivisect him, find out how to replicate this magical core in Magi. Always assuming, of course, that Darnic failed in reaching Akasha, which he didn't intend to do, but it was good to have contingencies, just in case.
Darnic had even idly considered using him as a Master in the upcoming Grail War. His massive reserves would be more than capable of maintaining a Servant. However, he had dismissed it almost as soon as he thought of it. The boy had uncertain loyalties, and they certainly weren't aligned with Yggdmillennia. Putting such a wild card in charge of a Servant would be a disaster in the making. Hopefully, Fiore would allay his suspicions for now, as would Caules. Young they may be, but they were also competent in many regards.
"While an offence committed in ignorance is an offence all the same, I will be magnanimous and overlook it," Vlad said. "I presume he will be monitored?"
"At all reasonable times. I will have a Homunculus tend to his needs, as well as keeping an eye on him," Darnic said. "I will also ensure he is away from the summoning in a few days' time, just in case. We don't need a Master whose loyalties are uncertain."
"Of course not. But it may do him good to meet those we are summoning afterwards. What person wouldn't want to meet heroes from history and myth? Though I do hope your chosen successor will ensure that he does not mention that abominable work, or what that vile author claimed me to be," Vlad said.
"I will speak to him anyway, just in case," Darnic said.
"Good. And remember my admonishment to you on the related matter," Vlad said, his eyes narrowing and peering at Darnic.
Darnic bowed and made the necessary agreement. Of course, he didn't intend to keep it. If need be, he would force Vlad to use his Noble Phantasm, Legend of Dracula, which would forcibly transform Vlad the Impaler into the very thing he despised. A vampire, a Dead Apostle. Vlad had threatened to kill Darnic if he ever tried to force Vlad to use it, but Darnic didn't care. If the situation called for it, then Vlad's desires could go fuck themselves. Darnic was a Magus. He would do anything to gain what he desired. It didn't necessarily mean he would actually do anything, but morality was for lesser beings. Besides, even if Vlad Tepes wasn't a vampire, he was still a brutal and sadistic ruler who had a rather nasty habit of impaling his subjects as much as his enemies. If he hadn't wanted to be seen as a more literal monster than most, maybe he might have toned it down a tad.
Still, hopefully, it wouldn't come to that. Vlad III gained a significant boost in power being on his lands, where he was viewed as a national hero. In addition, his other Noble Phantasm, Kazikli Bey, was very potent, as those Enforcers sent to assassinate him learned. It could form stakes from the very bodies of those opposing Vlad, or from the ground. It was the very essence of impalement distilled into a Noble Phantasm. Against a group of humans, it was devastating. Against Servants…well, it ought to be an awe-inspiring sight.
Forcing his Servant to use Legend of Dracula would only be a last resort, obviously. He needed his Servant willing to help, after all. And despite his bloodthirstiness and capricious nature in life, Vlad was actually quite urbane and pleasant, as long as you didn't bring up the bloodsucking elephant in the room.
Still, what to do about Harry? And where was that godfather of his? Because he knew that the pair of them would be trouble…
Kairi sighed as he watched the boy hurry away to Lord El-Melloi II's office. He'd been led by the cheerful, if clumsy, brat to Rocco Belfeban's office in Clock Tower. Apprentice Magi were so damned cheerful these days. Still, it wasn't a wholly bad thing.
The leonine bounty hunter and necromancer had been summoned by Belfeban on a matter of some importance. Given that Belfeban was the Head of Summoning at Clock Tower, well, Kairi wasn't sure why the man wanted him, though he heard rumours lately. Something big was happening in Romania.
He knocked on the door, and heard a rasping voice come from within, bidding him to enter. The old man with the tinted glasses and careworn face must be Belfeban, but there was another man there, a man with dark hair, a neat beard, and grey eyes. He also had a tenseness to him, not anything dangerous, but he looked concerned and worried about something.
"It's a pleasure to meet you at long last, Kairi Sisigou. I've heard a lot about you and your exploits, especially those missions you have undertaken for us here at Clock Tower."
"And this is?" Kairi asked, indicating the other man, who stood, and shook his hand.
"My name is Sirius Black. And like you, I've been dropped into this mess…though I probably have been dropped into it more literally than you have…"
The Throne of Heroes. An existence somewhere between Valhalla and the collective consciousness of humanity. Here exist heroes and villains and those inbetween, those that made their mark on the human psyche. Soon, many will be summoned, like many before them.
A boisterous woman with red hair. A blonde girl with anger and loneliness warring in her heart. A silver-haired wandering knight. A pink-haired, energetic crossdresser. A centaur who was tutor to many on the Throne.
And, unbeknownst to the one in question, a girl with red hair and mismatched eyes. In life, she was denounced as a monster. She'd done many horrible things out of desperation. Loneliness plagued her.
I want a mate, she thought to herself. Someone to share my heart with. I do not wish to be lonely anymore.
Soon, she would hear a voice calling her. But as she would answer the summons, she would find something else calling out to her. Someone who was also lonely. Someone who could see her for something other than a monster.
CHAPTER 2 ANNOTATIONS:
So, Harry's learned about the Holy Grail War, Darnic is scheming, and Padfoot is about to join forces with one of the more badass necromancers in fiction…
No numbered annotations this time.