Being summoned was like taking a deep breath. It was as if you had been held under water for an eternity, and suddenly you could breathe again. There was a rush of energy, a feeling of certainty, of sureness (this is where I'm supposed to be) before the knowledge came and the world settled around you.

Smoke billowed around his form, filling the room, and Diarmuid opened his eyes to gaze upon the one who summoned him, his new Master, his lord (he could prove it, his loyalty, he would-) only for his breath to catch in his throat.

"Help me!" A girl, a little girl, screamed out, trapped beneath the form of a hulking fat man with a thick mustache holding her down. The words rung through him like a command seal (a what now?) and before he could even really think about it he was moving forward, grasping the shoulders of that man and yanking him back, throwing him across the room. Diarmuid placed himself between the girl (his Master? He could feel the flow of mana, giving him shape, giving him from, giving him purpose) and the man.

"Wha-" The man let out a choked sound and looked up from where he lay against the wall of the house they were in. He flushed an angry shade of red as anger flooded his features. "Who are you?!" he shouted out, struggling to get up from the ground. "What are you doing in my home?!"

"Just a knight," Diarmuid responded, "here to save a girl in need."

There was a sound behind him, a desperate sort of sound, and Diarmuid felt through their bond, in some unexplainable fashion, hope shining like the brightest star from the girl he guarded.

The influx of information given to him during his summoning settled in his mind. He felt as if there was less there than there should be, as if there were holes where there should not be, but he ignored it for now. His summoner was who was important right now, and this man before him was trying to hurt her.

"That freak?!" The man bellowed, the red transitioning to an ugly shade of purple. Diarmuid frowned at that denomer ("Traitor!") and raised his spears. This man was not a threat to him, not physically, but the girl behind him whimpered at the words and he cannot allow this man to frighten his Master. "Are you one of them?! I'll have you know that this neighborhood was full of good folk, normal folk, until your lot came around and ruined everything with your freakishness! Go! Go! Get out of here! Out of my house! I will not have it! I won't!"

Diarmuid didn't know who "them" was, though he suspected he would find out soon enough. No matter. This place clearly wasn't a welcoming one, and if his Master wished to leave, then they would leave. So Diarmuid frowned at the man and half turned his head back to the girl. "What do you say, my lady?" He smiled at her. "Would you like to leave?"

The girl, who was so frightfully thin and dressed in rags (gods, a child should never look that thin, even in the deepest of winters when food is scarce) looked up at him with wide green eyes, so full of hope that it made something in Diarmuid's chest feel tight and painful. She let out a sob as she nodded, not daring to speak, before she rushed forward and threw her arms around Diarmuid's waist.

And so they leave.

…

Diarmuid's summoner sat on a bench in a park not far from the house. They had gotten there by passing numerous other houses that looked exactly the same as the one he was summoned in. Diarmuid had never thought he would ever see so many houses all looking so similar all in one place, one after another. The information he received during their summoning assured him this is not unusual in this new era, but the sight is still disconcerting.

He knelt before his Master and looked up at her. She's so small. Diarmuid guessed she must be six or seven summers old. She's also painfully thin. Red hair curls around her head, the hair cut short. It framed an angry red cut on her forehead, a strange mark that looked like a lightning strike. Green eyes look at him from behind bottleneck glasses, sharp and hopeful and wary all at once. It was not a look that Diarmuid liked seeing on children. Her clothes are but rags, a too large blouse all but hangs off her shoulders, and her skirt looked worn and well cared for, though it stood on its last legs.

"Who are you?" the girl spoke in the silence of the air.

"My name is Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, my lady. Upon your summons, I have come forth."

The girl looked down at her skirt and clenched her fingers in the cloth. "Summons?"

She didn't know? How has she summoned him then? Was there some other arcane force at work here? Diarmuid didn't know much about magic, but he was certain this girl was the one keeping him here. That knowledge rested surely in his mind, and there was no denying the bond supplying him mana that lay between them. Well, he supposed it didn't matter in the end. She summoned him, and therefore she was his Master, and he would serve her faithfully until the day he met his end.

"May I ask your name, my lady?"

The girl nodded. "Rose Potter. My name is Rose Potter."

Rose. The name of his master was Rose. Fitting, for one with hair as red as hers.

He smiled up at her again. "You summoned me from a place very far away, Lady Rose. That means that I am your knight, here to protect you and fight whatever battles you may need me to."

"Protect me?" She whispered. There was hope in that voice, and her eyes watered. She seemed hurt, and small, and scared. In that instance, Diarmuid promised to himself he would not allow her to keep that expression. That he would do his very best to protect her from any and all who would seek her harm, so long as he never had to see her like this again.

"Yes," Diarmuid told her. "Always."

It was a promise he swore to keep.

…

It doesn't take long for them to start running into issues.

Diarmuid is unused to the modern era, and Rose is unfamiliar with how much of it works. Neither of them have anything other than what they're carrying, which is to say, nothing but the clothes off their backs and Diarmuid's two spears. They have no money, no place to stay, and no way of gaining one. If there was a forest nearby, then Diarmuid would be able to hunt them some food and set up a camp for them, but there was nothing but houses as far as the eye could see all around them.

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea…" Rose muttered to herself, her grip in Diarmuid's hand tight. They've been walking for a good three hours now, and they are no closer to finding a place to stay and something to eat. Diarmuid thought they might be able to beg some food and a room off some inn owners in exchange for work, but that was only if they were able to find an inn in the first place. The world had changed much since Diarmuid's death, and despite the knowledge granted to him during the summoning, he found himself woefully out of his depth when it came to navigating this new era.

To make matters worse, they seemed to be attracting stares everywhere they went. Diarmuid had dismissed his spears, but there was his Love Spot to think about, and he still wore his armor. It stood out like a sore thumb among the clothing the people of the modern era wore. Rose, too, attracted attention, for she did not have shoes.

"On the contrary, my dear. I think it was an excellent idea."

The two turned and in an instant, Rose was pushed behind Diarmuid and Diarmuid was ready to summon Gae Buidhe and Gae Dearg to his hands the moment it would prove necessary.

The man who stood before them was an old one, dressed in a fine suit and sporting white hair and red eyes. He smiled at them, humor in his eyes, and raised his hands in surrender. "Peace," he said, "I mean you and yours no harm. I merely come bearing an offer."

"And what offer would one such as yourself have for my lady and I?" Diarmuid asked, curious, though cautious. Behind him, Rose peaked up at the man and lay a hand upon Diarmuid's waist, seeking comfort in the face of the strange man coming up to speak with them.

"An offer of a meal and information," the man said. "My name is Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg, Master of the Kaleidoscope. It is a pleasure to meet you both."

...

AN: I've been thinking about this one for a while now, and I found it in my docs again, and aaaaagh I shouldn't start another story when I have so many, but I cant help myself.

Join me in hell, everyone. Join me.

In case you were wondering if the Love Spot is affecting Rose. Yes, it is. The curse has just been interpreted a little creatively since she's really young atm. Instead of sexual and romantic love, it's a platonic love. Instant trust, pretty much. If she was older than she is now, then it would have been romantic. Please note, there will not be a pairing between fem!Harry and Diarmuid. In fact, I have no pairings planned at all! Diarmuid and Rose may fall in love in the future, but it will not be with each other, and it may not happen at all. The circumstances of Diarmuid's summoning are also a bit different, and that will be elaborated on in future chapters. Probably. It may take a while to get there.

I have a Tumblr. Metronomeihear. Come scream with me.