Unaccounted For

It was an average day when Harry's life went to hell. He was sorting mail and parcels to be delivered across the Clock Tower school, when a bright light burned from his hand as he picked a brown paper package up to read the address.

Harry dropped the box in shock, then cursed when it landed on his foot like a lead weight. He hopped around until Alan came in to see what all the fuss was.

"Oh, I dropped a package on my foot," Harry answered as he knelt down to find the box that had bounced away under the table. "Someone's shipping rocks or..something…" Harry froze as he reached a hand out to grab the offending box and he saw the mark that appeared on him.

"Hah! Better hope you didn't break anything," Alan laughed, coming into the room to check on his progress. "Some of the professors send pretty expensive stuff through the Association you know."

"Oh! Er, right," Harry forced himself to grab the box and stand up. He tried to keep the back of his hand hidden without making it look like he was hiding it. "Anything this heavy shouldn't break easily." He put the package on the table and busied himself with sorting the pile of packages he still had to go through.

"We should probably still check, just in case," Alan said, and he reached over to pick the box up.

"We can't open it!' Harry said quickly. He wondered if this was some new hazing method his senior had come up with. Surely the worry of a broken shipment was bad enough, there wasn't any need to snoop as well.

Alan gave him a smug, almost indulgent smirk. "Don't worry. I'm not opening it, I'm only going to check that the contents are undamaged with a spell."

Harry blinked. "Oh. You can do that?"

"Yes, Harry." Alan chuckled. "It's very simple."

Harry fought to keep his face blank. There it was, the minor bullying he had come to expect from everyone he met in Clock Tower. It rarely went beyond rude or condescending comments, but Merlin it was annoying to put up with.

Still, even though he knew it was exactly the reaction Alan wanted, Harry paid close attention as the man held the box up and muttered strange arcane phrases and waved his hand. The magic in this place was always so odd and complicated, Harry never could help but peer closer when a spell was done in front of him. Which only marked him out as even more of a clueless "Frame" who never got the chance to learn "real" magic.

At least, that was how he seemed to the mages around him, the magicals of this strange, yet familiar Earth Harry now lived on. They all thought him to be a firstborn mage who wasn't impressive enough to earn a sponsorship from an established mage family. He was just some nobody who would never get to be a real mage, but still had the blood for magic. So he was allowed to work as a low flunky of the Association and, if he was very lucky, some mage family might let him marry in so his children could have the chance to learn magic.

"Well, it seems to be some metal fragment, so it's probably fine," Alan finally said. "Where is this going to?" He looked at the address. "Ah!" Alan cried out and juggled the box before quickly tossing it to Harry.

"Hey! Just cause it's metal doesn't mean it can't be broken!" Harry said in annoyance. He covered his right hand with the package and shot his co-worker a glare.

"Heh heh, yeah, sorry," Alan said as he backed away. "Well, you should get back to work, and don't forget the special instructions we got this morning!"

"Special instructions…?" Harry frowned in thought. "Oh, you mean about deliveries to that one Professor?"

"Yep!" Alan grinned as he reached the door. "Better go over them again, cause it looks like you're our first offering!"

Harry blinked as Alan went back to his own station, laughing the whole way, and looked down at the package's address.

To: Lord Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald, Department of Spiritual Evocation

Merlin's balls. Harry groaned and raised his free hand to cradle his forehead.

This particular teacher was known around Clock Tower as one of the pureblood elitists - long magical heritage, powerful political connections, a genius at magecraft. All signs that the man would do great things, but Harry had heard the man also had a lot of the less favorable traits of purebloods from his own world - like a general arrogance and a belief that blood was what mattered in magic, as well as a nasty attitude for anyone he considered below him.

That morning when he came in for work, everyone found out that the Lord Archibald's package had gone missing the previous week. Apparently it had been handed off to one of the Lord's students with the expectation the boy would bring it to the man. The weekend had passed and Lord Archibald had sent a message asking when his package would arrive. Once the mail office realized what had happened, they informed the Lord and he basically lost it. The man who'd handed the package away was fired, the whole office was in disgrace, and the new orders on how to handle Lord Archibald's mail was introduced.

Not a moment too soon either, as it seemed the furious professor had a new package he was expecting. No wonder Alan had made himself scarce when he saw who the package was for.

Harry resigned himself to having an annoying afternoon and sat down at his table. Archibald's box was placed before him and he brought his right hand up to inspect the mark that had appeared when he first picked the box up.

It was blood red and stood out harshly against Harry's skin, but while it had stung and blinded him when it first appeared, now it was dull and felt like nothing at all. Running his fingers over it revealed only smooth skin, as if the mark were an old tattoo and had been part of him for years. What troubled Harry most though, was that it was clearly a stylized mark of the Hallows. The Wand, the Stone, and the Cloak, each line separate but more ornate than Harry had ever seen them drawn in his world.

Why had picking up a package with a piece of metal in it caused such a mark to appear? Could the object inside the box be connected to the Hallows somehow?

Harry couldn't imagine how. The Deathly Hallows were from his own world, and a part of him now. They shouldn't have any connection to anything from another world. He needed to find out what this object was, but he couldn't risk stealing it, not if it belonged to one of the top mages in this world.

The workings of this world's magic users was so confusing to Harry, their methods and culture almost alien when compared to the witches and wizards of his home. They were strange even compared to the myriad magical worlds Harry had been to before this one. He could barely fit in as one of the lowest members of their group, and he didn't know if he could deal with being the enemy of one of their most prominent figures.

Harry sighed and returned to sorting his allotment of mail for the day. For now, he would need to hide the mark with a Notice-Me-Not charm. Then he would have to deliver the package and, with luck, convince the arrogant Lord to reveal what his package truly was. If Harry could get a clue about the item, he could figure out how it singled out the Master of Death.

By lunch, Harry had managed to place the charm on the mark and test it against his co-workers and some of the staff of Clock Tower. He'd been worried that his magic might be noticed by the various mages around him, and since he was supposed to be an "un-trained" nobody, it might have got him in trouble. However, no one seemed to notice any magic on him, even when Harry deliberately brought their attention to his hand.

At least that had worked out well. Unfortunately, by midday, everyone in the mailrooms knew that Harry was the lucky sacrifice to Lord Archibald's first package delivery. They all made sure Harry knew that they knew too, and he was very close to losing his temper.

Harry had decided he needed to leave this delivery for the end of the day if he wanted any chance speaking to such a busy man. The fact it was obvious he was waiting until the last possible second only made it look to his co-workers as if he was avoiding the Lord. Which was fine, but it did make everyone tease and harass him even more because they thought he was afraid.

So many condescending smirks and knowing chuckles followed Harry as he made his first round of drop-offs and took his break, that he was starting to regret his decision. He really wanted to smack a few people upside the head, but an attitude like that would work against him with a man like Lord Archibald. He couldn't afford to get distracted.

Finally, the last bell of the work day rang through the Clock Tower complex, and Harry hopped down from his table and picked up the last delivery he had. Most everyone else in the mail offices had finished work hours ago and either left or had work sorting mail to be sent out of the school, so Harry had thankfully been left alone for a bit.

It was a good thing too, because when Harry caught up with Lord Archibald getting ready to lock up his office, the man was less than pleased to receive his package so late.

"Why couldn't you have delivered this to me in the morning?" Archibald said stiffly. Harry assumed he was trying to do that gentry thing of maintaining his composure so as not to draw attention. He thought the man could do it better if he weren't clenching his fists at his sides with restrained fury.

"I told you, sir," Harry said as contritely as he could (which wasn't much). "New rules indicate that when a personage such as yourself receives a package, it must be delivered in person and its contents verified. You've been in classes or meetings all day, so this was the first opportunity to ensure correct delivery."

"It could have been brought to me first thing this morning, before classes started!"

Harry refrained from rolling his eyes. "It only arrived with this morning's mail, sir. Classes had already begun by the time the package was accepted and sorted out."

"Then you could have brought it to me during lunch, or between classes!" Lord Archibald was turning such a bright shade of reddish purple, that Harry might have worried he was having trouble breathing, except no one who couldn't breathe talked so much.

"You didn't remain on the campus for lunch, sir." Harry was lucky to have been told this little tidbit- in as smarmy a tone as his informer could get- because he hadn't even tried to deliver the package then, and it was the perfect excuse. "Also, I didn't think you would wish to have to verify the content of your package in the hallways with so many students around."

Lord Archibald paled, then flushed again, so fast Harry was impressed the man didn't pass out. "You expect me to open my property in order to give you the opportunity to gawk!" The lord's voice rose, in volume and pitch, until the last word was practically gasped out like a shriek of air escaping from a tea kettle.

"Of course not, sir," Harry said calmly, and really he should get an award for managing to respond without yelling. "The department merely wishes for me to be witness to you verifying the expected contents of your package. If there is any issue with your delivery, we wish to correct it as quickly as possible."

"I would not need to submit to such foolish mollycoddling if not for your extreme incompetence!" Archibald said loudly before finally turning back to his office and striding inside.

Harry resisted making any faces until he was well away from the man. If it turned out this package had nothing to do with his mark, he was going to be thoroughly annoyed.

"That I must put up with this useless gesture after it was your office that lost me my property!" Archibald seemed content to gripe and snarl as he walked around his desk and sat down before beginning to unwrap his package. Harry wasn't sure why, except maybe some feeble attempt at using the large desk as intimidation. Perhaps Archibald was used to only dealing with students.

"If I had my way, the whole lot of you would be on the streets for this outrage!" Archibald tossed the brown paper into the bin and glared up at Harry. "People like you shouldn't even be allowed to set foot on such hallowed ground as this school! Not even for the most subservient tasks!"

"So who would you have serve under you, your lordship?" Harry asked snidely. "Surely not a mage equal to you?"

Archibald flushed red once again. "Be careful, servant , that almost sounded like insolence. Know your place," was forced out through clenched teeth.

Harry almost retorted with I thought being a servant here wasn't my place , but bit it back and bowed his head. He had to focus.

"My apologies, Lord Archibald. I meant no offense, I am only trying to comply with the office's new regulations."

Archibald snorted and leaned back in his chair, the perfect picture of an arrogant pureblood wizard- magus. Whatever.

"The fact that the Department of Universal Research is even allowed to staff its lower offices with useless riff-raff like you brings shame to the whole of Clock Tower."

"But it's the only department that is completely neutral, so the only one that can be counted on not to mess with other departments' mail," Harry said blandly.

"And yet you still managed to lose one of my precious artifacts!" Archibald sneered at him and picked up the white box he'd unwrapped but not yet opened. "So I am lowered to scrambling for any halfway worthy replacement!"

"The Mail Office apologizes for putting our trust in your students, Lord Archibald," Harry said, as mildly as he could, but he had really had enough of this man. No clue was worth this. "It never occurred to us that one of your own would betray you."

Archibald grit his teeth and looked very much like he'd swallowed a lemon, but made no comment. He tore off the lid of the box and let the contents of his package tumble out onto his desk.

"One ancient artifact for a powerful magical ritual, the likes of which you will never witness, nor hope to comprehend, duly delivered- at last!" he snarled. Then he snatched up the lump of metal- some kind of knife, or maybe a long arrowhead- and stood up. "So you may consider your services, inadequate though they were, to be concluded. You are dismissed, servant!"

Harry turned around smartly and stalked out. He barely managed to keep from growling as he made his way back to the mailroom and clocked out. Yeah, putting up with that arse had totally not been worth it. He'd seen the item, and Archibald had called it an ancient artifact, but that still didn't tell Harry what it was, or what sort of ritual it was needed for.

His only option now was to follow the git and hope he'd be stupid enough to blather information about whatever that artifact was out loud to someone else. At least Harry had proven that one of his charms could pass by these mages unnoticed. The invisibility he gained from the Cloak should be more than enough to hide him from his lordship.

Following the great magus Archibald was more a test of patience than skill for Harry. He was right in thinking the Cloak's invisibility would protect him from the man's sight and magic. But having to quietly keep pace with the man as he either berated or scoffed at nearly everyone who crossed his path as he left Clock Tower was frankly agonizing.

Thankfully, he didn't have to tail Archibald for very long because, almost the instant he returned home, he made a phone call and started talking about the package he'd just received.

"Of course it won't be as good as the one we lost, but it should serve just as well for our plan," Archibald said eagerly into the receiver. "After all, so long as I retain the ability to use my mana as needed, none of the other Masters will stand a chance!"

Harry watched as the man's face went through various expressions of smugness and superiority. He knew that mana was what people here called magic, or was it the energy they used to make magic? Regardless, he wasn't sure what the "masters" were, it wasn't a title he'd heard the mages at Clock Tower use before.

"Obviously we'll need to hold the ritual tonight. The gibbous moon will aid in the revisions I've written into the incantation, and having a Servant before the rest when they summon theirs on the full moon will allow us to scout the terrain safely. Everything will be to our advantage in the coming war."

While Archibald relaxed and began congratulating himself, Harry worried. Masters, servants, a ritual, and a war? This was sounding worse by the minute, yet he still had no idea what was happening or how it connected to the Hallows.

"Then I shall expect you by 11 o'clock at the latest. I'll have most preparations done by then, but the outer circle shall need to be drawn with blood that will tie the Servant to the appropriate mana source," Archibald said. He sounded pleased and almost giddy, something Harry wouldn't have expected from such a sour man, but the mention of blood was troubling.

They weren't summoning demons, were they? Harry chewed his lip as he watched the magus finish his phone call and pick up the metal scrap artifact to admire it. A demon summoning shouldn't have anything to do with him, but…maybe…. Sometimes, people tried to do crazy things like become immortal by summoning death. It never worked of course, and the way Archibald talked about "servants" and such didn't quite fit. But there was still a lot about this world's magic that Harry didn't understand.

He would have to see. It sounded like whatever Archibald was doing, it would be done by tonight. Harry could wait that long, and if it turned out to be something he didn't approve of well, he would be there to stop it.

Harry found himself surprisingly entertained by Archibald's preparations for his ritual. That was partly because the magus had insisted on being left alone in his private workshop, and so didn't have anyone to insult while he worked. The rest was because Harry was simply fascinated by the magic Archibald was crafting. It was truly unlike anything he had seen before.

Harry had stuck himself in a corner to watch while the arrogant man had cleaned his work area by hand, even deigning to get on hands and knees to ensure the cleared floor of the room was spotlessly clean. Harry certainly hadn't expected that, but it was one of the differences that confused him about magic users here. They were all arrogant in terms of blood and power, yet it seemed even the most elite of them was content to do menial chores by hand if it was for their spellwork.

Next he was shocked to watch the magus kill a trussed up boar some servants brought for him before leaving again, and then drain the blood into a bucket, all by his own hand. It was dirty, smelly work, yet Harry was surprised to find Archibald not only not complaining, but actually looking happy. Then for several hours, Archibald was again on hands and knees, using the blood he'd collected to paint an elaborate array of circles and lines and strange letters

If this had been Harry's own world, magic would have begun building in the air the moment the first stroke was placed. But here in this world, the air was still, empty, and if Harry didn't already know Archibald was a magic user, he would have assumed the man to be a muggle playing around. He wondered what would cause magic to come if not blood.

By the time someone knocked and entered Archibald's workroom, he had nearly finished drawing the elaborate ritual circle. Harry still couldn't make heads or tales of the symbols, but he thought the arrangement of lines and circles could be arithmancically similar to magic circles from his world. If he was reading it right, power should be directed to summon and bind….something at the center of the circle. But Harry couldn't tell if there were any restrictions in the circle to trap or control whatever was summoned, nor what the summoned creature would be. Those instructions might have been in the strange script written around the circle however.

As for Archibald's helper, Harry had the privilege of witnessing the arrogant magus become even more insufferably smug, yet at the same time almost shy, while speaking to the woman who'd come. Harry hadn't quite caught her name, too distracted with trying to read the foreign letters in the circle. But she seemed a good match for Archibald, having a very similar disposition in Harry's opinion.

He hoped they finished quickly so he didn't have to listen to more of their sniping.

"Now, with your blood as the final binding for the circle," Archibald was saying as he finally stood up and looked over at the woman, "and the aid of the moon, my re-written version of the ritual should give us perfect control over the power disbursement for the Servant."

"I certainly hope that is the case, given how much you used." The woman sniffed and rubbed the inside of her elbow. "Surely if you had more time, you would have crafted a more refined version and would not have needed such a sizable donation from me. Especially considering the long term donation I will be making for this."

Archibald frowned and looked away. "I assure you, my dear, only drawing the outer rim of the circle in your blood was the smallest contribution possible. As you are not connected to the Command Seals, an identifier must be added to the ritual in order for your mana to take my place in the transference."

Merlin, was Harry ever looking forward to this being done with.

"And I am quite certain you might have done better with more time." The woman smiled, not very nicely. "Especially if you still had your first choice of catalyst."

Archibald seemed to be clenching his jaw to keep from answering. The woman shook her head commiseratingly and walked to stand beside him.

"Of course what revisions you were able to make will still be enough to assure your victory. Honestly Kayneth, do try to relax," she laughed.

"You're right of course," Archibald said, apparently put at ease by the woman's confidence. "With such an advantage the Grail War shall have only one natural outcome!"

Harry frowned as he watched the two mages from across the bloody circle. So, this war was a Grail war? They couldn't mean the actual Grail,could they? The more he learned, the less he liked this whole situation. But it was too late to change his mind about watching things before deciding what to do, because it seemed to finally be time.

"The circle is completed!" Archibald said grandly, throwing a hand out dramatically. "Now, all we need is to set the catalyst upon the altar before it, and we shall summon our Servant!"

"Yes, yes," the woman smiled indulgently and rolled her eyes as she walked around the circle. She grabbed the metal shard off one of the desks Archibald had pushed out of the way to make room for the circle, and continued on to a stone table that had been shoved to one end of the room at the top of where the circle had been laid out. "Do you remember all the lines?"

"Of course. They are exceedingly simple." Archibald lifted his chin while he watched her.

"Good." The woman placed the item on the stone table and turned to face him with her arms crossed. "Then let us begin!"

Archibald smiled eagerly at her before closing his eyes and raising his arms toward the circle. "Fill, fill, fill, fill, fill! Repeat five times. But when each is filled, destroy it!" The magus' voice echoed in the suddenly cramped feeling room.

Harry felt something like pressure building up around him. Fill what , he wondered. And why five times, and why does it have to be destroyed after? What sort of summoning is this?

"Heed my words! My will creates your body, my offering gives you mana, and your sword creates my destiny!" Archibald continued, and light began glowing from the lines of blood on the floor. Harry noticed suddenly, there was a dark mark on the back of Archibald's hand, stretched out over the circle, but with the sudden change in light he couldn't make it out. "My reason shall be your law, as my partner shall be your anchor! If you heed the Grail's call and obey my will and reason, then answer me!"

The light became blinding and Harry could feel heat building in the center of the circle, and a wind began dancing around the room. Will, mana, and sword? And the Grail again, what would answer such a call?

"I hereby swear that I shall be all the good in the world," Archibald had to speak louder to be heard over what was fast turning into a gale. Harry hoped it didn't turn into a hurricane. "I shall defeat all evil in the world."

Wait. I shall be all the good in the world? Harry thought in surprise. I shall defeat all evil in the world? No way would a demon answer words like that. He was so distracted by the wind and pressure and the strangely gentle words of the ritual, that he didn't notice the spike of heat from his hand matching the rising heat in the circle.

"Come forth from the circle of binding, Guardian of the Scales!" Archibald shouted the last words, and light exploded from the circle, blinding all three people watching from outside its lines. Smoke billowed out from the center, whirling as the wind finally died down, and Archibald and the woman began to laugh happily.

Harry blinked as his vision cleared. There was a human figure in the circle, a tall man who was staring right at him.

"I ask of thee, art thou my master?" the man asked, voice smooth and even. Harry flinched back.

"Indeed I am, Servant!" Archibald said behind him, still pleased but with an edge of annoyance. "Face your Master properly and give me your name."

The man glanced over his shoulder with a smirk before looking back at Harry. "Sorry, but I am already facing my master."

The room fell silent. Archibald sputtered and looked to the woman across the circle. The woman looked between him and the man they'd summoned, then glanced to the side where Harry was standing.

"What...are you looking at?" she asked.

Harry glanced at her worriedly. He was still invisible, so what, could the man in the circle see him because he was some kind of demon? Or was it because they were connected? Why? Harry hadn't done anything during the ritual but watch!

"I'll ask again," the man grinned charmingly at Harry, "are you my new lord?"

Harry looked nervously at the woman, now staring at the spot he was standing in, and Archibald across the room beginning to turn red. He shook his head quickly and backed up. He needed to get out of here and fast.

The man in the circle frowned and stepped forward.

"But, you bear the Command Seals on your hand, and I can feel the mana flowing from you that binds me here," the man said slowly.

"Now just a moment!" Archibald had finally found his voice. "I summoned you! It is my will and mana that bind you to this realm!"

"Actually it's my mana," the woman said, crossing her arms and still staring at the spot Harry had been standing before he moved. "But you raise a valid point. We should be the only two here, and you should be the only Master bearing Seals who can summon a Servant."

"Who," Archibald snarled low in his throat. "Who dares to steal my Servant from me?"

Harry crept as quietly as he could around the edge of the room. This was definitely not turning out as well as he hoped. Even worse, the man in the circle was following him, a confused frown still marring his face. The woman and Archibald quickly caught on to Harry's new location because of that.

"Fervor, mei sanguis," Archibald hissed out. "Automatoportum quaerere."

Harry's eyes widened as something silver slithered out of Archibald's breast pocket and began expanding. Soon it grew into a large, bulbous, mirrored lump before thin, twisting spikes shot out of it and began stretching around the room, twitching along the ceiling, brushing up the walls, and slithering across the floor. Several of these silver strings surrounded him and vibrated like they'd been plucked.

Archibald grinned. "Scalp!"

Harry didn't even have time to react before three things happened simultaneously. The strings whipped up at him from every direction. The woman shouted at Archibald in an annoyed tone. The man from the circle leapt forward and swung a long stick with negligible ease, cutting the silver strings into pieces.

"Honestly, Archibald!" The woman was saying. "Don't you even want to find out who this master is? What if it's the same one who stole your first catalyst!"

Harry took a shaky breath and looked up at the man standing before him. It wasn't a stick he was carrying, but a long spear. The man regarded him blankly before giving a small smile. He turned to face Archibald and his lump of mirror bright silver.

"My, my! It would seem you attacked my master just now," the man said pleasantly. Then his eyes narrowed and he gave a wolfish smirk. "But what's this? You don't seem to have a servant for the game yet."

Archibald sputtered and glared. The woman stopped scolding him to turn and glare at the man.

"Oh? But you are our Servant," she said. "Or you will be once we deal with this thief."

"I'm afraid it's not possible to steal my loyalty," the man gave a laugh. "Don't be sore that you failed to call me properly where my master succeeded."

"But I didn't call you at all!" Harry couldn't help but say. Immediately, he felt the Cloak's invisibility fall off him. He'd given himself away and now the mages as well as the summoned man could see him.

"YOU!" Archibald was as red in the face as a tomato. He looked like he was trying to choke out words but couldn't get his throat to cooperate. He could manage, however, to direct his silver ball to begin attacking again.

The man from the circle moved in front of Harry and used his spear again to defend him. His movements and the silver whips were so fast Harry couldn't follow them clearly. There was no way to reach the door now, and the two mages knew it.

"It would seem you didn't think this through, did you?" the woman asked mockingly. Harry frowned at her and tried to concentrate on the fight blocking his escape.

"Just as I thought," Archibald sneered. "Your pathetic ilk have no place in our world when you strive for power beyond your status. You will regret trying to steal from me."

"Oh believe me, I regretted this an hour after following you home," Harry muttered to himself. The spearman was doing a good job fighting off the silver threads no matter how they tried to attack, so Harry didn't feel too threatened. The real problem now was simply getting out of this place and escaping far, far away.

The spearman slashed the great silver blob in pieces, buying a few moments of relief. He landed beside Harry and glanced at him laughing. "One wonders then why you stayed to summon me."

Harry glared sourly at him. "I didn't summon you," he said, and he pointed at Archibald. " He did. I was just watching."

"Oh?" The spearman tilted his head. "And yet it was not his voice that called out to me, it was your's, and not his mana that tethered my soul, but your's."

"That's ridiculous! I never said anything, and I sure as hell wasn't using magic!" Harry frowned at the bloody circle, at Archibald, at the woman, at the strange man beside him. "I really was just standing here. I didn't do anything!"

"Yet if you bear Command Seals," the woman said as she stalked around the circle to stand by Archibald, "then you surely must have known any interference in a summoning could give you an advantage in the war. This was clearly planned."

"What command seals? What war?" Harry shouted out, frustrated. "I don't know what you're talking about! That's why I was following him around," Harry pointed at Archibald, who sneered back, "I wanted to find out what was going on!"

"These marks," Archibald said crossly, raising his left hand to show the red mark Harry hadn't been able to see clearly before. "They are a sign of being chosen by the Grail as a Master, to compete in the Holy Grail War of Fuyuki. A sign that a magus has achieved enough power to be recognized by the Root itself, and one which you dishonor with your scheming treachery!"

Harry blinked at the man's hand, then looked down at his own. The mark of the Hallows was drawn in the same color as Archibald's more ornate mark.

"So, these marks...they don't really mean anything special?" he asked slowly, rubbing a thumb across the back of his hand. To think he'd been so worried about what the mark could mean, but it didn't have anything to do with being the Master of Death?

"In your case, the Grail was likely singling you out as a sacrifice to fall against more powerful Masters," Archibald said snidely. "Only seven Masters are chosen, and only one is meant to succeed. So naturally, there will be a few weaklings selected simply to round out the numbers. You are little more than a lamb led to the slaughter in this battle!"

Harry looked up to find Archibald pulling something out of a pocket. The woman had backed up behind him and was turning to walk out the door of the room.

"And now it would seem you are already fulfilling the Grail's chosen task for you!" Archibald threw a packet of paper toward him with a flourish. "Urene in aere!" The paper exploded, spewing noxious smoke into the room while the mage turned and walked out.

Harry flinched back and his lungs started burning. The spearman turned to him with a cry and tried to cover him. Harry coughed and found no breath to refill his lungs and began to gasp desperately while the room spun and his eyes filled with tears. He thought the spearman might have picked him up, he felt like he was spinning or falling, and wanted to throw up. There was too much noise, beating against Harry's head and his vision was blurred into vague shapes and dark colors. The last thing he felt was cool wind and a sense of weightlessness before he completely blacked out.