Matou Shinji and the Master of Death

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: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

Epilogue. Words Drowned by Fireworks

"When I think of everything that happened this year," Matou Shinji mused aloud, reflecting on all that had transpired, "all I can really say is that I am fortunate to be alive."

For the Matou scion, this year, more than any other in his life, had taught him how a magus walked with death – and he wasn't even a magus, practically speaking. From his clash with the onikuma in Hokkaido, to a deranged Ministry official trying to kill his entire history class to cover up the exposure of her hidden past, to his encounters with Acromantulae in the tunnels below the forest and the raid itself, there had been moments when he wondered if he would survive.

He'd survived them, but he'd also been reminded that however much he had grown, there were those still beyond him, as well as those he owed a great deal to.

Sajyou-san, for putting up with him during the expedition to Hokkaido, despite his rashness, his obvious inexperience with being out in the wilderness, and his insecurity.

Luna, for watching over him as he recovered from his near-death experience with the onikuma, for sharing her prana with him so that he could recover in the first place, and for her actions during the spider raid, where she had put the survival of the Stone Cutters over her own, releasing her power in a cataclysmic blast that left herself helpless. If she'd died…

'…well, I suppose I understand how Harry feels about what happened to Sokaris now. Especially since he doesn't know that Sion lived.'

It wasn't as if Shinji could tell him, given that the Director of Atlas had extracted a geas from him not to reveal what had truly transpired without her permission. And in some ways Shinji wasn't even sure he wanted to tell Harry, since he treasured the fact that Sion had chosen to tell him – and him alone – the truth, and how special it made him feel. If someone else knew…

Shinji shook his head.

Of course, he owed his life – and the life of his comrades – to Gilderoy Lockhart as well, a man who he was certain was a member of the Order of Assassins. Without the man's brutal but effective intervention against Umbridge, he and his class would have died. Without Lockhart's involvement in the spider raid, all of his comrades would be dead.

For that matter, he owed his victory over Harry in part to the training he'd received from the man.

…though not as much as he owed his familiar, the kodama who styled himself Zelkova.

Matou Shinji might be many things. He might be proud of what he had accomplished, yet desperate to prove himself to his family, and to the one he was loyal to above all others, but no one had ever accused him of being stupid.

Except for the worthless man who had called himself his father, and that had not been a comment on his intellect as much as the fact that he was not a magus.

So he knew that without Zelkova, the events of the year would have turned out very differently. Without his familiar, he would have been merely above average at Snape's Potions-Herbology challenges, with no chance at the claiming the title of Hogwarts Potions Champion. Without his familiar, he wouldn't have become proficient in using the element of earth, and he wouldn't have learned of fusion.

Without his familiar, well, it was quite likely he would be dead.

'I need to do something nice for Zelkova after relying on him so much last year…'

He'd get around to that sometime. For now though, the kodama was taking a well-deserved rest, communing with Matsuo-san, and through her, the Great Tree of Mahoutokoro on this night of Tanabata.

"And to have accomplished what you set out to do, Matou Shinji," the yukata-clad figure of Sion Eltnam Atlasia murmured as she looked into the distance, her half-covered face taking note of all the people celebrating in the city below. "As I was during the time I spent at Hogwarts. All in all, an eventful year."

"Indeed," Shinji said as he looked down, not sure what to say. "I became the potions champion of Hogwarts, you know."

"So Aozaki Touko informed me," the alchemist noted softly. "You will be journeying to the Isle of Thule next year, then?"

"…yes," the Matou scion admitted. "Though I don't really know what to expect there. Not when I will be facing the chosen representatives of each magical school and I don't know what they're capable of."

Well, that wasn't exactly true. He knew that Sajyou-san was quite capable of trouncing him in both the arts of brewing and combat, as she'd taught him a good deal about herblore, cooking, and using yin. And while fusion form might make a difference in a match against her, he was less than certain of that, given the nature of her familiar – the aptly named Yatagarasu – and the fact that she was Kaiduka'schosen apprentice.

'And somehow, I doubt the kitsune who is one of the powers behind Mahoutokoro would have taken her as an apprentice if she wasn't capable.'

"Traditionally, alchemists of Atlas do not engage in combat unless there is a way to predict a future with some probability of victory," the Director half-chided, her eyes betraying nothing. "Though I suppose you are not an alchemist yet, Matou Shinji."

"…no. I am not, admittedly," Shinji replied wryly. "That's why I can take…calculated risks as I have."

The Alchemist of Atlas turned to regard the boy with her deep purple eyes, the sheer intensity of her gaze forcing him to take a step back.

"There is a difference between a calculated risk and foolhardy recklessness, Matou Shinji," Sokaris said after a moment, her words utterly void of emotion. "A difference that I believe you have yet to learn, because of your successes, as improbable as some have been."

Shinji winced, as there was…more than a hint of truth in what his patron said.

"I am becoming aware of that…" the boy noted softly, his jaw tightening as he thought back upon the year behind him.

"Your Assassin mentor knows the difference well," the Alchemist continued. "Such is the reason for what he calls the Kobayashi Maru, for though we of the Moonlit World walk with death, we do not rush to meet it."

"…you have a point, Director," Shinji admitted, bowing his head.

The two were silent for a moment, before Sion Eltnam Atlasia spoke once again.

"Your comrades are carousing in the city below," she observed quietly. "Enjoying the wonders of a place far different from the world where they were born."

"They are," the Matou scion murmured, shaking his head. "Was I like that when I came to Hogwarts, I—"

"Yes."

Glancing towards the young woman standing beside him, the one who had met him each of these last three Tanabatas, Matou Shinji thought he saw what might have been a smile cross her lips, though if I was, it was gone once he focused on her.

"Yes, you were," the Alchemist repeated, shaking her head. "As you were here, from what your Master tells me."

"...I was, yes."

It had only been three years ago, yet it seemed like a small eternity since Aozaki Touko had taken him to Mahoutokoro for the first time, with the great tree above opening to allow him passage into the City Beneath the Earth. That, even more than the acceptance letter from Hogwarts, had been the beginning of everything, when he'd started down this path at the boundary of two different worlds.

"Unsurprising," Sokaris uttered, that single word fraught with more meaning than Shinji could unravel. But then, in some ways, his patron had always been a mystery to him, which he supposed was simply the way of things.

"Speaking of Harry and the others..." Matou Shinji hazarded, "would you like to meet them? Again, I mean."

"No." The reply came almost at once, startling the boy. "No," the Alchemist repeated, softly, but firmly. "Neither as Sokaris nor as an Alchemist."

"…but why?"

"Because I do not want to drag them into our world," Sokaris answered, almost gently. "You forget who I am, Matou Shinji, and that as Director of Atlas, my actions carry a weight most do not. Officially, no branch of the Association has formally recognized any of the organizations of the East. So if I were to be seen and recognized, with my presence interpreted as a state visit…"

"Ah. I suppose that could get…complicated," the boy allowed. He'd be the first to admit that he was a rank novice at the great game of politics beyond how it played out in schools and playgrounds. And he'd never shouldered the responsibilities that his patron clearly had.

"Quite," the Alchemist quipped. "Our world aside however, it is better that your comrades believe Sialim Sokaris to be dead."

The woman's words struck Shinji like a blow, his eyes bulging as he processed them – and found himself uncomprehending.

"…why?" Shinji's voice was a feeble thing. "I would think they'd be overjoyed to know you survived. Harry, especially…"

"And then what?" she asked. Unsurprisingly, the Matou scion had not thought that far, but he was still young and did not have much experience with long-term plots and machinations. There was a long way to go before he would be a proper Alchemist, if ever. "Assuming they learned that I lived and that I had not revealed myself to them earlier, what would they then conclude, Matou, when the initial joy had passed?"

"…probably that you used them to steal the Philosopher's Stone," the boy conceded. "And that everything they knew about you was a lie."

"I would spare them that, Matou Shinji," the Alchemist said with surprising compassion. "To them, Sokaris was a comrade, a fellow student who challenged their expectations with unusual gifts, who fought by their side despite having fears – demons – of her own. And from what you have said, Sokaris' death – my death – inspired your comrades to become better people, better users of witchcraft, better leaders. How much of that would be lost if they learned the truth?"

"You have a point..." Shinji admitted grudgingly.

"You already knew – or suspected – I was more than I seemed, because of our heritage from the moonlit world," Sion continued, shaking her head. "Your comrades did not – and do not, now."

"…you're protecting them," he saw, understanding at last.

"Indeed, Matou Shinji. As I have said, they have troubles enough without learning of our world," Sokaris noted quietly. "Especially the boy called Harry Potter. It is a terrible thing to carry all the hope and expectation of a people, is it not?"

"…I wouldn't know." Shinji bit his lip. "It's hard enough living up to your expectations sometimes," he joked, only for the Alchemist to look at him reprovingly. "…well, and Master's and those of others," he added sheepishly. "At least…I hope I have."

Once again silence fell over the two, with the Director of Atlas watching the city far below one of Mahoutokoro's great bridges, and Matou Shinji watching her, nervous beyond words at what she would say.

"You have," the purple-haired woman said after a time. "Certainly, I am…grateful for your assistance in acquiring the services of a new Vice-Director."

"You could have told me, you know," the boy replied quietly.

"It was better that I did not," the young woman responded, turning to look at the boy she called a friend. "That way, you would not be compromised by concerns over the Einzbern family's likely reaction."

"I…I would have helped you even so." Shinji's statement was firm. "I said once that even if it cost me everything, I would be your ally."

"So you have said. Even so, when you spoke to Illyasviel, your words were more powerful coming only from a place of concern for her, rather than…other interests. Even mine," the Alchemist explained.

"True enough. It's just…it was a bit of a surprise," Shinji said weakly – which was, if anything, an understatement to how he'd felt when he and Illyasviel had arrived at the terminal only to encounter the Director of Atlas.

"Of that I am aware. But it was necessary, Matou Shinji."

"As you say, Sokaris." The boy shook his head, sighing. "Any thoughts on everything else I've mentioned?"

"Only that it seems you have been learning much from Gilderoy Lockhart," the young woman replied. "Even if you have not officially become his apprentice. And that whatever you may have experienced, the next few years will likely test and try you more than you can currently imagine."

Shinji swallowed.

"I see."

"No…you do not," Sokaris commented. "But you will, Matou Shinji. As you yourself will note, you have made a rather powerful enemy in the Einzbern family, and soon you will move from the stage of Hogwarts to one where the world watches."

"…you mean the Isle of Thule," Shinji realized, shaking his head. "I know it is a remnant of a past age, and that the Potions Competition is a major event for the Wizarding World, but…is it really such a grand thing?"

Britain, for instance, made a big fuss over the Tri-Wizard Tournament, but the Matou scion couldn't realistically see that being important to anyone but the three schools involved, much less being something that would grant "eternal glory" to the winner.

"It is and it is not," Sokaris replied enigmatically. "It is an opportunity to create something new, but for you, Matou, it is also a test."

"A…test?" the boy asked.

"Indeed. While you were born into a family of magi, there is still much you do not truly grasp of the realities and hardships of our world," the Alchemist explained. "You know of them intellectually, distantly, yet you do not truly understand them. But you will."

"I see," Shinji said quietly. "I suppose you're probably right. I'll do what I can at the competition."

"Indeed. Do what you can. Win, if possible. Test your limits. Grow – but live," the Alchemist all but commanded, and boy bowed low.

"As you wish, Sokaris."

From Sokaris' lips issued a sound that bore a passing resemblance to a chuckle.

"It has been an eventful three years, hasn't it, Matou Shinji?" she asked, withdrawing a small vial of silver liquid from her yukata.

"It has," he acknowledged. "Sometimes I wonder how I ended up here. Each year seems more dangerous than the next, and if what you are saying is true…"

He shook his head.

"…there is something else you should know, Matou Shinji," the Alchemist said, as she offered the vial to her companion. The boy took it, his fingers brushing hers as he did, though raised an eyebrow as he peered into it, finding it like no potion he had ever seen before.

"What's this?"

"One dose of the Water of Life. Enough to cure any injury or any illness. Even death and vampirism," the Director of Atlas replied gravely. "With the enemies you have made in my service Matou, I suspect you may need such a thing soon enough."

Shinji's eyes widened in shock, his body trembling as he almost dropped the legendary potion.

"This is…," the boy swallowed, his mouth going dry as he considered what was in his hands. Unwittingly, he tried to give it back, only for the Alchemist to shake her head. "No, I…this is too much. Sokaris…no, Director, you…"

"Consider it a token of my gratitude for helping Atlas find a talented Vice-Director, among other things," Sion Eltnam Atlasia replied evenly. "Even if Isis has had to spend an inordinate amount of time keeping her away from our arsenal for now."

Shinji winced at the image of Illyasviel having access to Atlas' grand arsenal, the great storehouse of weapons and tools which were said to be able to destroy the world seven times over. The truth was, he could see the young girl unleashing some terrible implement of destruction if enraged or disgruntled, so perhaps it was for the best she was being kept away from such things.

For now.

"Then I thank you, and I hope there is some way I can repay you, in time," the Matou scion said with a deep bow, pocketing the vial with the utmost care. "I hope the rest of your ventures proceed to your satisfaction."

"They are proceeding according to my calculations, yes," she affirmed, but said no more about her business. "There is something you should know, Matou Shinji."

"Oh?"

"From Illyasviel's debriefing, the Einzbern believe that the Grail War will come earlier than expected," the Director of Atlas intoned. "Be wary lest you be caught unawares."

"…if any Matou is caught up in that, it will likely be my…sister," the boy replied distastefully. Less distastefully than he might have said several years ago, but all the same… "That's…that's not really my affair."

"Even so, the Einzbern no doubt will hold a special hatred for you, given what you have done," Sion warned, shaking her head. "Do not take their displeasure lightly."

"…I know," Shinji said quietly. "And thank you, for the warning."

The corners of the Alchemist's lips twitched upwards ever so slightly as she looked over towards the center of the city.

"I think we have talked enough of business, Matou Shinji," she noted with the barest hint of a smile. "And it occurs to me that despite the gala being held in my honor, I never had a chance to dance."

"Oh?" Shinji inquired, before a warm smile stole over his lips as he realized what his patron was implying. "Well then, we can't have that, now can we, Director?"

"Indeed," the young woman noted. "Perhaps I should remedy that before I return to my duties."

Shinji just chuckled, and bowed gallantly as he extended his hand to the Alchemist.

"In that case, Sokaris, would you give me the honor of a dance?"

And for that night, she did.

Whatever else they might have said, whatever else they might have meant to say, there were no more words between then and dawn, as they moved together under a brilliant night sky, their words and feelings drowned out by the fireworks above.

Pansy Parkinson had thought herself beyond surprises, yet from the moment she'd heard that Gilderoy Lockhart had chosen her to be trained as an adventurer, her life had been filled with one surprise after the next.

From his lessons in the Art of Movement and his explanations of how difficult the life of an adventurer could be, to the trip they'd taken to Diagon Alley, where she'd been outfitted with a dragonhide robe identical to those worn by the Stone Cutters, the man had casually managed to surprise her time and time again.

She had known he was a very good student – and teacher – of history, and that Lockhart had survived through any number of adventures, and so had thought herself prepared for whatever he had to show her, but even so, she hadn't anticipated just how much her life would change.

Or that his first lessons that summer would involve familiarizing herself with the Muggle world.

With telephones.

With the Tube - sometimes called the subway.

With how to use British Pounds, the general prices of things in the Muggle world, and where one could find them.

Her first time in Harrods, something Lockhart had called a department store, had shocked her beyond her wits – for why would anyone need so much in the way of goods? His reply, that the shop supplied millions of people, had boggled her even more.

Millions of people in one city.

In all of Magical Britain, there were only a little more than ten thousand witches and wizards – the same number that worked for this one department store.

It had been…a humbling experience, especially when she'd found out that there were 58 million people in Britain as a whole.

More than there were wizards in the entire world.

Up till that moment, Pansy Parkinson had always entertained the thought that she and her peers were special. Interesting. Unique. That their society at least had a claim to being somewhat enlightened, even with all of its problems. How it could be otherwise, with magic? Besides, Muggles didn't have anything that could be a match for a wand, did they?

But as she wandered through the muggle world, examining exhibits in the British Museum, looking through the histories the muggles kept of the time after the Statute of Secrecy, with Lockhart as a guide to explain the details, she realized that wasn't true.

That they had built up a civilization – a world – without the need for magic.

And that the man who she idolized as Britain's greatest adventurer knew both intimately.

"…you were born in…in this world, weren't you?" she'd asked him one day.

"I was," he'd replied. "I am, as you know, a half-blood. But you should know that, Miss Parkinson, that's in my autobiography."

"Professor, you were the one who taught to question sources, and to see with our own eyes."

"True. It's good to see some of my lessons were taken to heart."

After that, he'd taught her how to survive in the wilderness without the benefit of a wand, potions, or magic in general, using a compass, a map, a knife, and good hiking boots. He'd shown her how to use a headlamp and the other gear involved with potholing – alternately known as caving or spelunking – which he said was necessary, as well as how to properly lift things – something she'd never even considered, given that there was always the levitation charm to rely on.

And now, she found herself sitting beside Lockhart in the first class section of he'd called an aeroplane, sipping on orange juice to calm her nerves.

"Can this thing…really fly?" she asked the man, feeling more than a touch anxious.

There was no magic in it she could sense, unlike a broom. To her, this whole contraption with hundreds of people aboard was…something strange and utterly alien.

"Of course it can, Miss Parkinson," Gilderoy Lockhart had replied with one of his winning smiles. "But then, I can see how one might have doubts. It is a bit tubby and made of metal, isn't it?"

"…yeah. It doesn't look…" '…light enough,' she wanted to say. Well, she actually wanted to say it looked as if it would fall out of the sky, but she didn't want the man to laugh at her.

"I know. It was my first time too, once, and I was just as worried as you were."

"…with all due respect, I find that a little hard to picture, sir," Pansy quipped, her mind unable to quite grasp the thought of a nervous Lockhart. "How did you…?"

"My mentor at the time told me to look out the window and breathe," the man said quietly. "To watch the world falling away under me as we lifted off. To put aside what I thought, and trust in what was, in what could be. Perhaps you could give that a try?"

"Alright…" the girl said hesitantly. It wasn't the first leap of faith she'd taken this summer, and she doubted it would be the last.

Sometime later, the cabin door was sealed, and the plane pulled back from the gate, taxiing to the runway, where it accelerated, hurtling faster, and faster, and faster along until she thought they were going to crash.

Pansy Parkinson squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that it would all be over quickly, but then she felt a lurch, as the plane tilted up and she was pressed into her seat.

She opened her eyes to see the world she knew fall away below her, shrinking and shrinking as the plane ascending slowly but surely towards the heavens, rising towards the clouds.

"I'm flying…" she whispered, unable to believe it. She'd trusted everything the Professor had said, but until the plane had taken off, this was… "I'm really flying." They broke through the clouds, emerging into the brilliant sun above, and as she looked out onto the magnificent vista of the unending layer of white below her, a feeling of utter joy filled her as she realized that at long last she was leaving the land of her birth, as she'd wanted all her life. "…away."