Epilogue

Harry, Ron, and Hermione exited the pensive. It had been a hectic second term. Mad-Eye was brought in for the Defense position. Dumbledore kept in touch with Harry, and had even loaned him his pensive, but the aging Headmaster didn't resume his position. That left a very tired Minerva McGonagall to be Headmistress, the House Head for Gryffindor, and the Transfiguration teacher. She was quickly accumulating titles. Soon she might have as many as Albus had once had. With Archer's death, Harry had been left with a nagging sensation and lots of questions. He felt the two were related somehow. After Dumbledore had seen his dreams of Voldemort's cave, Harry realized he could just show his best friends the stuff he'd tried to explain to them before. They had just finished the last dream Harry had. The one where Archer had betrayed Rin and Shirou to the witch Medea.

"Wow mate, you were right. I know Archer's a hero and everything, and that you'd have been done for if not for him, but seeing him betray his friends like that..." Ron shook his head as he muttered.

"It was really interesting." Hermione's brow was furrowed in thought.

"I don't think willingly aiding a witch that's already tried brainwashing your allies, and is currently torturing one interesting. Not to mention the rest of that church. I think I might be sick." Ron had turned slightly green as he remembered the dead bodies they'd come across on the way to Medea.

"No, not that. The swords. The black and white ones with the yin-yang markings. Remember what Dumbledore told us about Professor Archer. He can trace any sword that he's seen. So he must've encountered those two blades somewhere before."

"I get what you're saying. He got them from Shirou." Ron exclaimed. "That's why he was so hostile towards him! The two of them fought before!"

"No. That can't be it. Shirou didn't use them until that last confrontation. Archer had been using them the entire time. I think Shirou must've gotten his set from Archer."

"Wait." Harry interjected. "Archer said his talent for summoning swords was unique."

"Tracing, not summoning." Hermione corrected, before continuing her train of thought. "Shirou could do it too. So it might not be as unique as Archer claimed, or he disliked Shirou because he was capable of reproducing or stealing his magic... or something else..."

"What else could it be?"

"Let's think back. Sirius' book said that summoning has a component right? That the ritual uses that component to choose who gets summoned. So what was Archer's component?"

"I didn't use anything. I didn't plan on summoning someone in the first place." Harry objected.

"No, I mean in the dreams. What did Rin use to summon him?"

"Uhm..."

"I know!" Ron exclaimed. "It was that heart-shaped pendant! The one that looked really expensive!"

"I think it was a triangle, not a heart, but yes! Do you remember what happened to it?"

"Didn't she leave it by Shirou's body when she used it to heal him?" Harry thought back. Yes, that was the last time he'd seen it.

"Exactly!"

"I don't get it."

"Neither do I."

Hermione sighed. "She used that pendant as her summoning component right? That means that whomever was summoned had a connection to it. Rin's magic used lots of jewels though. That one seemed bigger and more powerful, so it was probably significant to her in some way."

"I get what you're saying. So Archer was someone from her family's past."

"That's one possibility, but the pendant did one other notable thing that we saw. It saved Shirou Emiya's life. So he has a connection to it."

"That was after the summoning."

"Archer said the Throne of Heroes exists outside of space and time. So shouldn't it not matter if the person is summoned to the past or the future?"

"I guess..."

"And that explains why he and Shirou had the same swords and the same ability. That does create a paradox on the swords though... they would've come into existence from nothing. I mean if Shirou got them from Archer, but Archer only had them because he got them when he was Shirou... then it would be a stable loop, but the swords themselves wouldn't have a definite origin. I wish I had some Oriental History books. Kanshou and Bakuya might be mentioned somewhere. While summoning isn't strictly time-travel, Novikov's self-consistency principle would still seem to apply. If that was the case, they couldn't be the same person." Hermione bit her lip and began to pace back and forth. Harry didn't know what to say. Could Shirou really have been a younger Archer? They looked so different, but if you got rid of the tan and changed the hair color... "Perhaps Archer was Shirou from an alternate reality?" Hermione had stopped her pacing. "Professor Archer told us he was from one right? So it makes sense that Heroic Spirits can get summoned to an different reality. It might be the case that they can only be summoned that way. So Shirou and Archer were the same up to some point, and then something different happened to them..."

"That sounds a mite confusing 'mione." Ron had a puzzled expression on his face. "It also doesn't explain why Archer would want to kill his past self?"

"Maybe he did it so it wouldn't create a paradox? Or he might know something about the war that needs to be done differently. He only turned on Shirou in Caster's presence, after saving him remember? He also didn't attack Rin or Shirou. He let them go, even though he and Caster had them at a clear disadvantage. Even his attack on Shirou was half-hearted. He could have easily killed him, instead he saved him from Medea. Do you think she might have been influencing or controlling him somehow?"

"That's...right." Harry thought back on what he'd felt during the dreams. The emotions and gist of what a person was saying didn't translate into the pensive, so Ron and Hermione hadn't picked up on the feelings that colored most of the scenes. "When I dreamt those scenes, the sense I got from Archer was determination. He didn't like Shirou, but that was always the case. In fact... there was always the sense of...deja vu? Like something was reminding him of things." A memory of his fight with Voldemort came to Harry. The prophecy! He hadn't shown Ron and Hermione that dream. It wasn't the same as the ones about Archer. It wasn't a memory, he couldn't put it in a pensive like the other dreams. He quickly told his friends about it. "The prophecy said the 'Son of Emiya's' gift. So Archer's name must of been 'Emiya' - 'Shirou Emiya'!"

"Ah Ha!" Hermione had a triumphant look on her face. "I told you he was a hero!"

Ron glowered at her. "Fine, that's one POSSIBLE explanation as to why he was a backstabbing git. He could also be his father or son, or cousin. The 'Son of Emiya' would be Shirou's son right? Also, why would someone be angry with their past self?"

"Oh? Like you haven't done anything that you thought was stupid in hindsight? You as an adult might just be ashamed of some of the things you've done." Hermione crossed her arms and pointed looked at Ron. Harry's friend had the good sense to look abashed. Harry thought about her argument, and it seemed to fit for the most part.

"I like your explanation Hermione, but there's still something nagging me. I still want to try and find...something...this summer."

Ron and Hermione shared a worried glance. "Mate, I'm all for backpacking. I mean, hiking through the countryside with the two of you sounds like a right blast, but there are still Death Eaters out there."

"Archer killed most of them. Voldemort is really gone this time - my scar hasn't so much as twinged since I killed him. No one's going to be foolish enough to do something illegal. Even the Malfoys are lying low."

"We know that You-Know-Who is gone, just like Professor Archer is."

"I hate to say it Harry, but he's gone. Ascalon vanished that night. There's nothing of him left."

"No. There's something: Avalon. I've felt it ever since he gave it to me with Dhu al-Fiqar. I didn't know what it was, but since the fight with Voldemort, since I called upon it, I can feel its presence inside me." Ron and Hermione had incredulous looks on their faces. "I can't call on it... or I might be able to, but it just feels... wrong to do so without a reason, y'know?" Harry scratch his head as he tried to explain why this was important. "It's like a promise. Avalon itself promised to lead me somewhere. I don't know where. It might be the Avalon in this dimension. It might be that utopia that was promised to King Arthur. I don't know. All I know is that I have to find out. I know I might not find anything, but it's all that's left of Archer. Why did he have Avalon? How did he get it? Why is it still here if he's not? I have to find out. I have to keep the promise I made to myself. It's...it's how I can make things up to Archer. For doubting him. For getting him killed."

Ron and Hermione looked at each other. "We understand. We're with you for as long as it takes. If we don't find it this summer, we can look for it all we want after we graduate."

Harry smiled. It was good to have friends like his.

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A/N: The story is now over, just a few Omakes left. I had originally planned on ending with the last chapter after the fight, but upon thinking about it (and some reviews), I decided a better epilogue was in order. I also (slightly) modified the end of the fight in the previous chapter. Hopefully this wraps up most of the plot. There are several threads that were unfinished (Ascalon, Hermione's Runes, the Deathly Hallows, etc.), please consider these to be things that could've been expanded on in another route (like if Archer didn't kill Death Eaters, just disabled them, or if Voldemort had done something different, or if Archer had thrown Harry in front of an Avada Kedava - y'know to save him, ect.). My intention was to have it be similar in style to Fate/Stay Night. For example: Caster's presence in the Fate route. The potential for her to have a huge impact on the plot is there...but due to other circumstances(*cough*Gilgamesh*cough*) she ends up doing nothing.

Omake 1 - The Toad of Hogwarts:

"I really don't know what to say Ms. Umbridge. I've never heard of Hogwarts' wards rejecting a person before." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he talked to Hogwarts' first High Inquisitor.

"They aren't rejecting me, someone must be perpetrating this upon me! I blame those Weasley twins. They spend far too much time with that new Formalcraft Professor for my tastes." Umbridge rubbed her hands together and grimaced. She was wearing pink gloves that were puffed up to be twice the size of her hands. "Professor Archer is a suspicious one. What's his background? What's he doing here?"

"I assure you he's the most qualified teacher for this new subject. He's a foreigner and wishes to maintain his privacy. You've sat in on his classes. Has there been anything wrong?"

"He's insufferable! He always has that smirk like he's laughing at me behind my back. What possible application is this Formalcraft? Making things stronger? Charms or Transfiguration or even Potions can do the same thing!"

"Well, that's the point my dear. We can do the same thing so many different ways, so it's best to teach the students as many as possible. His class is an elective."

"I want to see his credentials! The Ministry cannot abide Hogwarts paying the salary of an disreputable wizard!"

"Professor Archer is a volunteer. In exchange for lodging he waved all other income."

"Sounds suspicious."

"He's a unique character, but staff hiring decisions are solely my prerogative." Umbridge winced as she rubbed her gloves some more. "Ms. Umbridge, is there something wrong with your hands?"

"What? Oh nothing, nothing at all."

"Madame Pomfrey tells me you've been to her for healing draughts and pain relievers. If there's anything wrong you should tell me."

"NO! I mean, that's quite all right. Just a few scrapes here and there."

"Indeed? At any rate, I'll be free to add you back to the wards next Tuesday."

"Tuesday?!"

"Hogwarts doesn't take adding someone to the wards lightly. Every time I add you, it takes longer for Hogwarts to accept you again."

"What about my office? My room? I can't enter either!"

"I'll have Professor Snape help you with moving any of your belongings that you need to some temporary quarters. I believe he has more students with detention than he knows what to do with. I'm sure he can spare a few."

"Hmmmffff!" With a grunt, the pink-clad Defense Against the Dark Arts professor whirled around and out of the Headmaster's office. The door slammed behind her. Once she was out of Dumbledore's gaze, she immediately pulled off her gloves. Underneath were strips of linen wrapped around like bandages, but they were already turning as pink as her gloves. Wincing in pain, she unwrapped her hands and set about rubbing in more of the poultice she'd gotten from the infirmary. She'd obviously been given inferior products before, so she'd used her powers to confiscate all the medicine she needed directly from Pomfrey's supplies. Nothing worked. Nothing dulled the pain. Nothing stopped the bleeding. Resolutely she applied the magical medicines over the wounds that wouldn't heal on her palms.

'Toads shouldn't teach.'

'Horrible liars shouldn't torture students.'

'Umbridge should be hit by a bridge.'

'Dark artifacts lead to dark deaths.'

She just knew these had something to do with how her Blood Quills had stopped working. She'd pay a visit to one of her informants. Draco Malfoy was from an Ancient and Noble House, and his father was a large supporter of Minister Fudge. The boy had provided her with good information before. She'd see what he could dig up on Archer. It took a while to track him down. Doors wouldn't open for her, and the paintings were less than useless. Finally, after cornering that unpleasant Snape, she learned the Draco had taken to using an empty room on the 3rd floor for practice. How commendable for him to be spending his free time studying.

"Hem hem." The boy had been focused on something in his hands when she'd opened the door. Umbridge politely cleared her throat to get his attention.

"Wha-" Draco jumped a foot off the ground as he turned to face her. His expression of shock turned to fear as his eyes tracked the wand that he'd been holding. In his surprise it had gone falling out of his hand. When in landed there was a bright flash of light and a deafening sound. It would be the last thing that Dolores Umbridge ever saw.

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Omake 2 - The Boy and the Berserker

Hercules stood in the circle looking down at his Master. The demi-god had been summoned in the Berserker class, and things didn't make much sense to him. Everything boiled down to how angry it made him. The small child that was holding a pointed stick in front of him and screaming. It upset the Servant a little. The fat human with soiled pants pointed a metal tube at him that made a loud noise got on his nerves. The old man with the long beard and flowing robes pissed him off the most. He'd taken his Master away in a burst of fire. Berserker was mad about that, so he instinctively latched onto his Master's bond and let it pull his etherial body along with it. The trio appeared in some room that was far too loud and busy. That also made him mad. His Master pointed at him and screamed, and the old man said something. Berserker wanted to kill something, to kill everything, but his anger didn't matter. Only his Master's anger mattered, so Berserker just seethed in silence.

His Master spent time in the noisy room. Lots of other people came in and pointed sticks at Berserker while saying strange things. Sometimes colors came out of the sticks, sometimes they didn't. Berserker didn't need to kill anyone, so he didn't bother to materialize. His Master wasn't angry. Rather he was scared? Or whatever emotion other people displayed in response to anger. Hercules didn't understand anything other than the red rage that filled him, and it colored all of his perceptions. A few people that were brought in were angry, but it wasn't true anger. It wasn't the type of fury that could swallow you whole and move you. Berserker had that kind of anger, everyone else's was a pale shadow.

They tried to take his Master away from him, but Berserker just followed. Heated conversations were held, but in a language the Servant didn't recognize. Eventually they took the boy back to the room Berserker had come from. More talking. More sticks. More colors. Berserker let his rage simmer and waited for an order from his Master. The other people left except for one, and time passed. Days and nights came and went. It was clear that something was upsetting the boy that had summoned him, but Hercules didn't know what. Now that he was etherial, the other people didn't seem so agitated, so that was how he waited. Not doing anything for so long was infuriating, but Berserker had nothing else to do. His Master eventually went to another house, and Berserker followed. Red-headed people swarmed around, but none of them paid any attention to Hercules. In fact, his Master had seemed to be less panicked. Still Berserker waited.

His Master left one day with an average-sized man that towered above the small children. They got in metallic boxes that moved. As silent and invisible as ever, Berserker followed and waited for his Master to give him a cue. The younger people were accompanying them as they went to some public area. A market or bazaar? Hercules didn't know. He also didn't care. Dutifully he followed his Master and his escort. In one of the buildings there was a blonde boy that his Master didn't like. There was also a blonde woman. They said something in their bizarre language, and his Master got mad. These two were making his Master angry! They had to be crushed, killed, obliterated! Berserker only had two settings, silent seething and murderous rampage. The Heroic Spirit materialized behind the two enemies of his Master. With a speed that belied his size, he reached out both hands and picked up the two targets of his rage by their heads. A squeeze, and his Master's opponents were no more. Their blood was splattered all over the inside of the room. His Master had fallen back, and was sitting on the ground. He pulled out his stick and colors flew at Berserker. Other people did the same. Berserker didn't care, his Master's enemies had been killed. There was nothing to do but turn etherial and wait for someone else to marked as being deserving of his wrath.

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Omake 3 - The Chained Hound

"It's about time, do you realize how long I've been waiting?" Cu Chulainn complained. Beneath him the wizards that had been filing out of the cabinet jerked in surprise. After nearly an entire year of being bound to the castle, Lancer was finally going to have a fight. If he only had Independent Action, he could've been off killing Death Eaters all the time. Not that teaching Runes wasn't fun in its own way. Cu Chulainn prided himself on having enough magical talent that he qualified for the Caster class. Teaching to impudent teenagers that he couldn't properly put in their place... His blood-lust had peaked several months ago. Now there was finally someone he could kill!

"Run!" Draco Malfoy shouted as he threw up a black powder. Where it hung in the air, all light vanished. Lancer wondered briefly if the powder was really black or if its true color was obscured by its very nature.

He gave a shrug, it didn't really matter. He could hear them well enough to pinpoint their positions without the aid of sight. They probably weren't so skilled. "All year! I've spent all year waiting for some combat! Now you finally bring me some opponents and you blind them?" The Servant let out an inarticulate growl. "So much for a proper fight." From the sounds he could make out, the young Slytherin was leading his Death Eater reinforcements towards the door. "That won't work you know. You never paid much attention in class, so I guess I'll refresh your memory of the runes that I prepared for this encounter."

"What's going on? Why won't the door open? You betrayed us Malfoy!"

"N-No I didn't! I swe..."

"Avadar Kedavra!"

Lancer couldn't see the tell-tale green light, but he heard the sound of a small body falling lifelessly to the floor. "And here I was, about to ask my wayward student what the Algiz, Nauthiz, Ansuz, and Ingwaz runes would do if they were on the anchor points of a bounded field." More spells were cast by the Dark Lord's followers, but none of them came close. "I guess I'll tell you, since there's little chance of you knowing on your own. It makes a curse of combat. We can't leave while the other party is alive. We can't refuse to fight either. Basically, we're in a death-match right now."

The Servant wore a feral smile, but his opponents didn't see it. They wouldn't see anything ever again. The fight would be long over before the darkness powder wore off.

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Omake 4 - Final Dead Draco

Draco Malfoy held his wand tightly. His grip was tenuous due to his sweating palms. It was definitely excitement, not nervousness. What did he have to be nervous about? He was a Death Eater now. One of the Dark Lord's elite. He'd take his father's place and lead the wizarding world to a new glorious golden age. The counter-portkey jinx was a hard spell to pull off, but he managed it. The adrenaline that was running through his body made his hands shake, but he was a Malfoy. He cast spells perfectly. He had to be perfect to ensure Voldemort's wrath didn't come down on him or his mother.

Lights flashed inside of Amelia Bone's house. She actually was daring to duel the Dark Lord! He was obviously playing with her, no one could stand up to Voldemort. Well, aside from Dumbledore, but the old fool was getting more and more senile with each passing year. The Dark Lord had defeated Death itself! It was obvious who was going to win this war.

An inarticulate noise came from his side, followed by a slashing noise and a few dull thumps. Draco turned to look, he had to keep his wand pointed at the ward he was helping enforce. He was a man now, and he'd fulfill his destiny. A red blur moved beside him. Was that a person? Was he wielding... swords? The sharp pain in his side, and the sound of his own ribs cracking broke whatever line of thoughts that had been forming in his brain. Draco was in an incoherent state. He vaguely felt something warm and sticky surrounding his stomach. It was in sharp contrast to how cold it'd become. Why was it so cold? Each breath he took caused a tearing pain throughout his chest. What was happening? It hurt to breath, and he felt so tired...so he stopped.

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Archer had heard that his Master was going to Diagon Alley today. He had an escort, and it was in the middle of the afternoon, but the Heroic Servant decided it'd be better to keep an eye out - just in case. His vantage point on the rooftop a mile away gave him a perfect view of his targets. Harry and his friends seemed to be chatting happily. The old Auror that was escorting them was suitably on guard. This might be a waste of time after all.

Then something happened. The children were shooed into a shop, while the Auror took off. He was trailing another kid. Why? Archer jumped across the skyline. He kept an eye on the store Harry had entered, but he wanted to know what would cause his bodyguard to depart so suddenly. Was it a trap? An ambush? The Servant passed though the bounded field that surrounded the magical section of London. The boy the Auror was following entered a shop. His newly-acquired shadow waited around the corner. Archer's Clairvoyance allowed him to observe the inside of "Borgin and Burkes", despite the sharp angle and filthy glass. The young, blond man was heatedly arguing with a man on the inside. The shop owner's face turned pale when his customer rolled up his sleeve and raised his arm. The Dark Mark!

One of Harry's classmates was a Death Eater? The Mark proved it. People who were forced to obey Voldemort didn't receive it, only those who pledged themselves to him. This was unacceptable. Archer couldn't allow such a potentially dangerous individual close to his Master. He'd love to follow the boy. Find out who he was, and what he was doing, but that would mean leaving Harry un-protected. There was nothing to it. He take out the threat here and now.

"I am the bone of my sword."

It was a quick death. The arrow pierced his brain. He wouldn't feel a thing. There was shouting inside the shop. Archer stealthily changed vantage points. Killing one rat might make others show themselves. He had to stay in Diagon Alley to watch over his Master, but that didn't mean he couldn't snipe any other Death Eaters that appeared.

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The Hogwarts Express. Archer knew Harry was going to take it from London to the ancient school. He would probably be safe, but observing him before the school year started may provide some valuable insight. The boy was the Counter-Force's champion. Any hint about how the collective unconsciousness of the Human race worked would be invaluable. The Heroic Spirit didn't know if he wished for his existence to end anymore or not, but knowledge was power.

Harry would be able to see him in his etherial state, and he didn't want to answer his Master's questions just yet. So Archer stayed out of sight. It was easy to keep a solid barrier between the two of them. In such close quarters, the Servant could observe his mark without the aid of his enhanced senses. The boy was shy. He also shunned the fame that'd been thrust upon him. That was good. A young Shirou Emiya would've been oblivious to such a situation around him. Even explaining it point-blank wouldn't have registered. By the Root, his younger self really was hopelessly distorted wasn't he?

"The Dark Lord gave me the mission himself."

Those words brought Archer out of his reflective state. Someone in the next car was boasting about serving Voldemort? Surely not.

"Sure Draco."

"Look, I'll prove it."

Archer looked through the wall. A young blond man was proudly displaying the Dark Mark to his classmates. That was bad. At least they all seemed shocked. What mission would Voldemort want done at Hogwarts? Killing Harry? Sabotage? Either way, that student would not be allowed to reach the castle. Archer didn't have Presence Concealment, but against young, un-trained magi it wasn't needed. After an hour, the boy got up to use the restroom. Now was his chance. There was an adult wizard watching the both of them, but his magical eye followed the boy. Good. Archer jumped to the top of the train and materialized. A small explosion would be sufficient. An E Ranked Noble Phantasm, that wasn't designed for combat would do. The Servant's shot arced up and around at a seeming impossible trajectory. It punched through the window of the room where the Death Eater was relieving himself. The explosion would kill him. In such a small room it was guaranteed. The shockwaves would be felt throughout the train, but only the wall of the restroom that faced the outside would be breached.

The explosion happened just as planned. The sudden wind created by the gapping hole in the train blew out the remains of the lavatory. A lifeless body in black robes tinged with green was included.

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Draco was nervous. If this bomb succeeded, Dumbledore would be dead and his mission from the Dark Lord would be complete! Goyle's body moved heavily as he tried to quietly exit the Great Hall. How the other boy got through the day as such a lumbering oaf way beyond the heir of Malfoy.

"Draco." A voice right behind him nearly scared him half to death. "What's the meaning of this?"

The young Slytherin whirled around. Behind him was Professor Archer - holding the wand he'd rigged to explode!

"I-I don't know whacha talkn' 'bout Proff. I'm not Draco."

Archer's eyes narrowed. "You think you can fool me with such a pathetic bounded field?" He reached out, and Draco felt prana pulse through him. His body shrunk, and soon he was in his own form. He'd dispelled the Polyjuice with a touch?! "This was intended to kill someone. Who?"

"What?" Fear was unbecoming. He had to raise his Occulmancy shields. Keep the Defense Professor out of his head. He was the king. This worm dared to ask questions of him! "I don't know anything." A sneer to put him in his place. "Let go of me, or they'll be repercussions."

The tall wizard's eyes narrowed. "Yes. Yes, there will be." He moved so fast that Draco didn't know what was happening until it was over. His arm laid bare between them, his Dark Mark revealed.

"You can touch me like that! Snape will hear of this."

"I'm certain he will, but not from you." A sharp blow to his neck dropped the youngest Malfoy unconscious. He wouldn't know what killed him. He wouldn't know that Archer took him outside the castle wards, and into the Forbidden Forest. He wouldn't know the grief that once again plagued the Heroic Servant that just wanted to save people. All he knew, was that he'd made a serious mistake.