Hey guys!

Yes, I'm alive. But I think I've lost eight-and-a-half lives so far, and I'm left half-dead now.

Remember me saying I got into an Architecture course? Apparently, I underestimated the horror of being an Archi student. People kept saying that you won't get much sleep, you'll be forever tired, oh my god I'm so sorry you're in Archi now please don't dropout or die etc etc...

And I didn't really believe what they said.

...How right they were.

I mean, imagine having an assignment every week. Technically each assignment starts on Monday and ends on Thursday, where we would have to present our work to the studio. Sounds easy.

Then, apparently when I was drawing or making models, what felt like 30 minutes of doing work actually took 3 hours to complete. There are some occasions when I just came back from lunch and began doing my work when suddenly someone asked me if I'd like to have dinner with him/her. I think I time-travelled.

Time flew really quickly during assignments, and suddenly it was already Wednesday night and Thursday is the submission date and I was screwed. So, overnighting.

It didn't help that the school doesn't teach us how to draw or make models. So we came on the first (proper) week, then BAM, here's an assignment about Ethics in Architecture, please design some sort of Architectural solutions, and oh it'll be good if you guys can make a model too.

And that's just one module. I have five others. But I still like this module. I think I'm going insane.

So yes, forgive me for ranting, for going missing in the past few months and for not updating the other stories first. I was busy trying to survive.

As for Flames of Steel, I've some parts that I want my beta to check first, but she's also busy studying in a different university, so probably it'll be updated in December.

What a Coincidence...hm...I'm still not satisfied with my progress so far, so hopefully I'll get an enlightenment during the holiday.

This is technically my very first fanfiction, even before FoS. It is an AU, so there are some aspects that would not align with the original stories. I've written 2 chapters so far, so I'll post the next one too. I'm sorry if there's any discrepancies because I'm not an expert in Nasuverse or Harry Potter. I published this because I was trying to escape from doing portfolio.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Fate/Stay Night UBW.

The Last Command

Harry Potter x Fate/Stay Night: Unlimited Blade Works

Unbetaed

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31 October 1981, Potter's cottage - Godric's Hollow

Lily Evans-Potter was not a genius in runes. In fact, she had never studied runic arts, let alone practicing one. She didn't choose Ancient Runes subject in Hogwarts because it required steady and precise hand to draw perfect circles and complex runic languages, and her hand-drawing skill was practically non-existent despite her neat hand-writing.

Yet here she was, meticulously trying to draw one on the floor of their bedroom, literally with blood. At least, her beloved husband was helping.

"Are you sure this is going to work, Lils?" James Charlus Potter, despite himself being equally busy with painting the aforementioned runes, could not help but to express his skepticism.

Lily only spared a glance toward him before going back to her own work.

"I know that anything can happen to us, dear," she said, "What with how that blasted Voldemort was made known of that equally blasted prophecy. I don't believe in prophecies, but I can't stop thinking about it." Lily was quite sure it was paranoia talking, but she truly feared of losing her husband and especially her little bundle of light, Harry. Of course, she was apprehensive of losing her life as well, but it would be so much worse if she has to live without her two most precious men. "At least, if this ritual works, even if the chance is so minuscule, we would be much more prepared to face the Dark Lord's attack."

A few weeks ago, she discovered a Summoning Ritual - as stated on the cover - in the ruins of the Potter Manor. Lily wasn't sure why the Death Eaters didn't take the book with them (as the title of the book itself already sounded promising for any magic practitioner) when they raided the manor and scavenged everything they could find, but whatever she'd stumbled upon seemed to be a good opportunity to improve their chance of survival.

The book had no author mentioned, with the exception for an initial Z printed in gold at the first page. It was quite a mystery. As she read the book, Lily couldn't help but be fascinated with the endless possibilities presented by the unknown magic. Sure, she should be skeptical about the the book's reliability, but all the theories -while being mismatched to whatever magical theories that existed in the current magical societies- sounded legitimate enough. Coupled with the low sacrificial cost (blood of the summoner being the most disconcerting one) as well as the possible superior strength of the familiar that they could summon, her founding had thus led to their current situation.

After discussing with James, and with much more deliberation and shouting included, he finally relented to help Lily perform the 'alien' magic. James didn't share his wife's confidence, but he agreed that they wouldn't lose anything substantial from it -aside from their blood, magic and time.

Satisfied with the last stroke, Lily was about to check on Harry (who was busy playing with Paddy the dog plushy while warbling to himself in his crib) when the calm was shattered by a loud crash downstairs.

Her blood ran cold. Lily stayed rooted on the same spot where she just finished drawing the runes, petrified with fear. She hardly noticed her husband dashing towards the door and out of the room.

"Lily," James shouted, startling his wife out of her frozen state, "Take Harry and go! Go! Run! Just forget about the ritual, I'll hold him off!"

With a mad scramble Lily locked the door and took Harry on her arms. She loved James, she really did, but something in her mind told her that despite all the confidence on her husband, she knew he wouldn't survive facing Voldemort in a direct confrontation.

He would never come back to her again.

She was about to bolt out of the house - she couldn't Apparate, the Anti-Apparation ward was up - had to jump out of the window or do something, anything, to get out with her son, alive - when the sight of the completed runes on the floor made her pause.

It's no use to escape, a small part of her mind supplied. James is dead and Voldemort would kill Harry no matter what it takes. Might as well see if the ritual works.

Placing Harry gently on the floor (he was still warbling happily, thinking that their parents were playing a game, remaining oblivious to the dire situation they were in), Lily stepped inside the magic circle and started chanting. She had memorized the words, and while they didn't have any of the so-called catalyst to summon a specific familiar, she believed that whatever 'Servant' who will appear would be able to grant her wish.

As her magic surged into the runes, the lines began to emit a bright blue light. Wind started to pick up out of nowhere, knocking down the table lamp and scattering the papers in the room. Harry was startled, then he babbled some high-pitched gibberish as if exclaiming his fascination. It didn't deter Lily from chanting the long incantation as she focused on her wish.

Her only hope to at least protect Harry and let him survive.

Please, she prayed. Please answer my call!

Lily vaguely noticed that the muffled sounds downstairs finally ceased. Tears were rolling down her cheek as she continued her choked words. The door handle rattled, then after a familiar, fear-inducing yell of a spell the door blasted open, knocking her down.

The witch stopped chanting, but her magic continued to supply the runic circle. Her ears were ringing from the sudden explosion as she struggled to stand on her shaking legs, her sight landing on the figure at the doorway.

The Dark Lord was here.

Tom Marvolo Riddle, now better known as Lord Voldemort, was rejoicing over his soon-to-be victory against the prophecy (some would say he's giddy, but such word was not proper for someone of his stature). Ever since one of his best agents, Severus Snape, mentioned to him the existence of the prophecy spelling his doom, the Dark Lord came to believe his mortal enemy to be the Potter family, specifically the newborn Harry Potter.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…"

Lord Voldemort believed his world domination plan would go even more smoothly if any potential threat was to be eliminated as soon as possible, prophesied or not. Sure, the prophecy mentioned the prerequisite of his... vanquisher, but Harry Potter's status as a half-blood made him a better target to kill than the Longbottom boy - although his family being a blood traitor made it another valid reason to kill the boy, albeit a weaker excuse.

At first, he looked forward to torture the mudblood witch first before killing her son in front of her, but Severus still hold her dear in his heart despite her marrying to his nemesis. The Dark Lord had therefore decided to spare Lily Potter while killing her son instead.

But remaining faithful to his servant's request was proven to be quite…challenging.

"Not Harry, please! Just kill me, but please spare my son!"

"Step aside, mudblood! At least be grateful that I am sparing y-"

"NO! Leave Harry alone! Kill me, but don't kill my son! I beg you!"

How dare this mudblood cut his speech! He was already being magnanimous to spare her puny life, yet she dared to go against him! Such impudence guaranteed death, but oh how he hated his promise to his servant.

He should Crucio Severus after he finished his task tonight to remind him of his position.

After several warnings that were constantly ignored by the daft mudblood, Lord Voldemort had had enough. If the witch refused to step aside for so many times, he should at least grant her wish to be killed instead. Hmm…how should she die? Severus had groveled before him to beg not to use the Unforgivables on the witch, and the Dark Lord was having a good mood today. Well, he could still use other spells instead.

"Sectumsempra!"

Blood spurted from her face and chest as though she had been slashed by an invisible sword. Her scream was like a melody to his ears as he relished the sight of her collapsing in front of her own son. Sure, let her protect the boy to her last breath, let her experience the punishment of defying his words by dying slowly and painfully. The irony was even sweeter as he used Severus' prized spell on her.

Oh, look. The boy had finally realized that his mother was being murdered as he cried harder and harder. How lovely.

Drunk in his own soon-to-be conquest, the Dark Lord failed to notice the magic circle shining even brighter. Had he put his celebration on hold, he would have noticed the excessive amount of magic on the air, the slight cracking sound of lightning bolts and the strong wind bellowing out of nowhere (granted, the effects kind of complimented his peak moment).

The explosion, though, was hard to ignore.

Pain. Pain and blood and smoke. The explosion, the curse, the blood. Magic, drained. The Dark Lord, fear, fear for Harry's life -

Lily Potter was no longer in a sound state of mind. Since the curse, Sectumsempra, hit her body and produced a large gash, she had lost so much blood to the point of lightheadedness making her thoughts singular. The overwhelming pain and her incoherency had undermined the prickling pain that her nerves had detected on the back of her left hand. If anyone saw it, a red symbol consisting of three distinct strokes - one short horizontal lines and two almost full circle lines of different size, all arranged to resemble some sort of a plastic hand-held fan - was printed on the witch's hand.

A distinct mark of the Command Seal.

Although her sight was blurred by tears and dust, the witch noticed…something was in front of her. It was hard to discern what, or who, it was. Before she could deduced anything, the figure suddenly moved closer to her.

"What is…who...the link-Master? Master!"

Ah…It was a man, with short white hair and grey eyes. She could only see his face as he crouched in front of her. His hands were hovering over her body as if confused on what to do, but before he could do anything else a sharp infant's cry shattered the silence.

Harry!

With great effort, Lily tried to lift her right arm to clutch onto the man's wrist. The slight movement caught the man's attention, but he was again distracted by another distinct sound, this time a groan from the other side of the room.

The Dark Lord -

"Har...ry…"

The man's head snapped back towards her, his eyes wide. A crackling sound was heard, and her left hand (where the Command Seal was) emitted a red light, yet she paid those no mind. It was the main reason why she chose to undergo the ritual, and she focused all of her muddled mind on her first wish.

Her first…and her last command to her Servant.

"Please…S-save my s-son…H-Harry…live…Harry… p-p-protect…from…D-dark…Lord…"

Then, Lily knew no more.

Well, Archer thought, that was one of the most problematic commands that he had ever had to heed. And don't forget the weirdest Heroic Spirit summoning he had ever undergone, surpassing even Rin's.

When he first became aware of his summoning, the overwhelming scent of blood was the first thing that hit his sense. Then the impossibly abundant mana on the air. And the smoke. And the link that connected his spirit to his Master. Who was behind him.

"What is…who...the link- Master? Master!"

Archer knew confusion amidst a battlefield was a sure ticket to suicide, yet he couldn't help but to be bewildered of whatever he had seen so far. His Master, who in any normal Summoning Ritual should at least be…healthy, was lying prone on a pool of blood. He wasn't a stranger to violence, blood and death, but to have his next Master since the Fifth Holy Grail War already dying even before he could do anything else was quite disconcerting.

His brain was multitasking between tracing several blueprints of weapons capable of healing and panicking, because what the fuck is going on, and why the Holy Grail hadn't even bothered to inform him of anything, really! It was a blank; aside from his status as an Archer-Class Servant, there is nothing else that could tell him about the world, which timeline he was in, was this still his original world, why were there so much ambient prana on the air…

A sharp cry broke his train of thoughts. His eyes once again set upon an unexpected figure. A baby, black haired and emerald eyes, bawling like there's no tomorrow while trying to reach the injured woman.

Why…? No matter, he could take care of the baby later. His dying Master caught his wrist, reminding him of his initial plan -

Another sound, this time a masculine groan, was heard from the other side of the room. Archer was quite well proficient at detecting specific magical signatures around his proximity (bloodhound, a voice that suspiciously sounded like his last troublesome Master echoed), yet the overabundance of mana in the air had caused his nose to be assaulted with various sharp scent, failing his senses. He was cursing himself for his inattention when he felt a spike of prana through his link.

"Har...ry…"

Surprised, he turned to his Master who, despite all the bloodloss and the pain that she must have experienced, was mumbling her first Command. It was under one minute after his summoning and Rin's situation wasn't even this bad.

"Please… S-save my s-son… H-Harry… live… Harry… p-p-protect… from… D-dark… Lord…"

A sense of compel washed over him as Archer watched his Master passed out. He wanted to refuse it, to pound into her head that your life was in great danger, dammit, and saving your son wasn't even a priority but the amount of magic and will that were poured onto her last command made him reconsider.

In the next instant, he performed Structural Analysis, a type of magecraft in understanding the composition of an object like viewing a blueprint, on his Master's body. A long, severe gash was evident, stretching from her left shoulder to her right hip, where blood continuously gushed out. Her body seemed to have basic Reinforcement from her od, but right now the amount of prana in her body was so low that it failed to aid the healing process, let alone stopping the blood flow.

And no magic circuits to speak of but a blob, a magical core, was present instead.

Cutting off his magecraft, Archer then came into a conclusion. His Master was…would no longer be able live much longer, even with the aid of his healing weapons. But her last command was crystal clear: to save and protect her son, Harry, from the Dark Lord.

He had an enemy to take care of.

"Guh! Y-you mudblood! How dare you…!" The smoke dispersed, and Archer could finally see the man across the room. He was immaculate, albeit a bit dusty, and looked normal enough to be identified as a handsome gentleman, if not for the…awful smell coming out of the stick on his hand. A wand…?

Standing on his full height, Archer turned to face the man. His eyes narrowed.

"Are you the Dark Lord?"

The man snarled at him as if he was affronted by his question, "How ignorant you are, fool! I am Lord Voldemort, the greatest Dark Lord who - Guh!"

A white scimitar, Bakuya, was suddenly embedded on the Dark Lord's shoulder, cutting off his speech.

Archer wasted no more time as he appeared right in front of his enemy, Kanshou raised. The black blade swung, but with a shout of "Protego!", an invisible shield appeared between them. The Servant's eyes widened as his strike, one that was on par with that of the true Heroic Spirits, beings superior to mundane humans, was blocked. At least, the attack blew the Dark Lord of his feet.

He tsked. Looked like this world was more troublesome than his own dimension.

Despite the downed form of its caster, the shield charm remained as it protected his opponent from his relentless attacks. Archer couldn't afford to use stronger weapons than the married swords as it might be too prana-exhaustive, and his Master might die then and there to supply him with the required energy. But the barrier wasn't indestructible against his continuous overwhelming strikes as it finally gave away.

Or maybe the Dark Lord wasn't that helpless, because the dismiss of the spell was so sudden that Archer stumbled when his strike hit nothing. It was a golden opportunity, and Lord Vo…Vode…whatever wasted nothing of it to counterattack.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A toxic green light flew towards him, and Archer spun to avoid the jet of smelly light (he'd never thought it was possible, but the spell was so evil in nature that it generated the vilest odor of, ugh, shit. Cursed his magical senses!). If he was Arturia Pendragon, he might be able to survive the spell, but he wasn't sure if his own D-rank Magic Resistance would be enough. The spell hit the ceilings with a blast of green fire.

It seemed to be the Dark Lord's favourite spell, because he laughed maniacally and casted the stinky green light over and over again. They were in an enclosed space - too cramped to dodge properly - and Archer didn't want to find out the effect if the curse hit him, so he summoned Kanshou and Bakuya once more to bat away the spells.

The spells struck the married blades in explosions of green flames, but his swords held strong. When both were wielded, the Counter Guardian's Magic Resistance improved, and the blades' rank increased. In a flurry of blades cutting through air, Archer moved in a blur, the flat parts of his weapons blocking every single spell that came for him or for the two individuals behind him. They were enough to shield him from the onslaught of the foul magic -

Crack!

- Or not.

Archer gritted his teeth as Bakuya shattered, followed by Kanshou after a few more contact with the green curse. The Dark Lord's diabolical grin widened upon seeing his opponent weaponless, and he casted one last green light -

Before it was once more blocked by a new pair of black and white swords.

The Dark Lord's eyes widened, before narrowing in a vicious glare. He snarled, and continued to send jets of lights onto the Servant. He seemed to finally realise that his attack wasn't enough to defeat his opponent, because this time round the beams of light coming towards Archer were more varied in colour.

'This is bad... I'm being pushed back!' Archer grunted as he constantly deflected the relentless attacks and projected the twin blades over and over again. He seriously lacked information of this world's magical societies, and the myriad spells used by the Dark Lord were not quite like the spells of the Fifth Holy Grail War's Caster. Some were elemental in nature, others were more unpredictable. One spell forcefully disarmed him from Bakuya, another disintegrated Kanshou. Archer tried to counterattack by throwing his blades, but with a calmer state of mind, the Dark Lord had proven to be very skilled in dueling as he could still conjure invisible shield while casting offensive spells. It was a stalemate; though Archer was well aware that if this continued for long, he would run out of prana and it would be a matter of time before he would finally get overwhelmed.

Tsk. At this rate, he had no choice but to -

"Confringo!"

The strength of the blast was so unexpected that Archer lost his footings. The countless number of spells hurtled towards him were all offensive, but in no way comparable against his physical strength as a Servant - except for this one. He cursed himself for slacking during combat -

"Avada Kedavra!"

His eyes widened at where his enemy pointed his wand at. Suddenly, a surge of massive amount of prana flowed into him -

"Master!"

- as the woman - who he was supposed to protect - collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, her hand outstretched. Behind her, Harry was sobbing at his mother, tugging at her lifeless body.

Archer froze.

The link -

"Again?! How many times do you have to defy m- Protego!"

The Dark Lord was slammed on the wall as his hastily casted shield charm struggled against the rage-induced strikes of the Red Servant. Steel eyes glinted in fury.

"I am the bone of my sword…"

A crackle, then a red spear appeared on his hands. At first, Archer wanted to trace Rule Breaker, the ultimate Anti-Thaumaturgy Noble Phantasm and a cheaper option in terms of prana usage, but the dagger was too brittle to be used in combat. He didn't want this dark wizard to live any longer just because Rule Breaker was blocked by mundane objects like the door or something.

Hence, he summoned Gáe Dearg: the Crimson Rose of Exorcism, a demonic weapon which could render magical projections useless by severing all magical ties with its source. The spear wasn't as potent as the dagger of the Witch of Betrayal, but it was enough to bypass the shield charm of this god damned wizard. Archer dared to project this Noble Phantasm just because his Master, in the last moment of her life, had managed to supply him with a massive amount of prana for whatever reason.

Probably to finish off the menace of the Dark Lord once and for all.

A slash, then another, and another. It was as if the spear was cutting through thin sheets of paper, until the protective barrier was no more. The Dark Lord was stunned, and for the first time in their duel fear shone through his eyes, but he quickly scrambled up to cast his strongest spell - a killing curse.

"Avada Kedavra-aAARRGH!"

Blood gushed out of his stump, and the Dark Lord shrieked at the excruciating pain that followed. Archer moved to cut the bastard in half, but his eyes widened at the green light coming out from the wand still held in the cut-off hand. He pivoted his body, and the curse flew past him by a hair's breadth.

It was a fatal mistake.

The jet of light was in a direct path towards Harry. The Servant Reinforced his legs and kicked off the floor so hard to the point a crater was formed, but he wasn't fast enough to intercept the curse -

"NO!"

A shimmer in the air, then the spell bounced before the infant, like a rubber ball bouncing against a sturdy wall.

Once again Archer jerked to dodge the suddenly rebounding killing curse. Ironically, the spell backfired, hitting its stunned caster head on. The Dark Lord exploded in green light, and the Servant shielded the baby from the blast. Archer shivered despite the heat, because something flew past him. He couldn't see what had happened to Harry until the light of the explosion died down.

After a few moments of adjusting from the sudden intensity, his eyesight finally returned. Snapping towards where the Dark Lord was supposed to be, he found no one instead. Not even a body remained, except for a wand.

This…this was ridiculous.

The infant behind him cried, prompting the totally unnerved Servant to turn around. Steel grey eyes met emerald, before Archer's sight drifted up towards the baby's forehead…

...where a bleeding and, um, really smelly lighting bolt-shaped scar was? What the f-

Pain shot up throughout his body, cutting off his observation on the boy. Tsk, it seemed he used up too much prana to trace Gáe Dearg - despite the extra supply from his now-dead Master - and prana-exhaustion finally kicked in. Archer sighed. He still had a duty to protect little Harry, but he couldn't afford to stay...materialised…

Wait, why wasn't he free of the command?

After checking what was remained of his link to his now-dead Master, he confirmed that his task seemed to have not done yet. That didn't make sense; the command clearly stated that he had to protect and save her son from the Dark Lord.

But the Dark Lord was no more because for some reason the killing curse backfired, and he is now dead…right?

No matter, for now it was best to dematerialise and conserve his prana. Someone bound to stumble upon Harry, be it an enemy or ally. He could decide his next course of action later.

Amidst his internal confusion, the Servant failed to notice a new magical signature. Peter Pettigrew scurried into the room in his Animagus form, only to find his master gone - leaving only his wand behind. His beady rat eyes widened at the sight of the red-clad man crouching before his master's nemesis. Trembling in fear, the traitor dragged his master's oversized wand with a herculean effort towards and into a rat hole, escaping from the site.

Upon Archer's de-materialisation, a man with greasy hair stumbled into the room. The Servant was about to re-materialise before noticing that the man lacked of any ill-intent. He could do nothing but watch as the man cradled his dead Master and sobbed hysterically, surprisingly ignorant of the poor state of the infant in the room. Before long, the man's head snapped to the side as if noticing something, then he gently laid the dead woman on the floor before disappearing with a loud 'crack'.

It wasn't even a minute later before a giant - a literal one - barreled into the room. Archer wanted to fend this dark-haired Santa Claus off of his charge, but then the door (or what was left to it) once more slammed open, this time revealing a man with long, lustrous black hair and aristocratic facial features. They both gasped at the horrific sight in front of them, and if Archer had a physical body right now he would fidget witnessing the grief at seeing their (most probably) friend dead.

After a full five minutes of sobbing and blaming themselves, Archer had the front seat to listen (or eavesdrop) to the most enlightening argument. The black-haired man, Sirius, was apparently Harry's godfather, and he wanted to take the recently-orphaned baby and raise him himself. But the giant, Hagrid, claimed that someone by the name Dumbledore had made arrangements to send the little boy to Lily's (his Master's) biological sister, Petunia. The way the giant said Dumbledore's name was like some Merlin reincarnated, by what the Servant had seen from the big man's reverence and blind devotion towards the man.

After some shouting match, Sirius finally relented. Then, he gave Hagrid a key, telling him that he could use his bike to get to Petunia as soon as possible.

Archer never thought that it would be a giant flying motorbike, though. He should've realised by now that the magic practitioners in this world were insane.

(A part of him that was once a devoted mechanic of the Fujimura clan was so tempted to cast Structural Analysis on the bike, and see what made it fly.)

Before long, the giant cradled Harry on his burly arms and left the partially-destroyed house with said giant flying motorbike, Archer hot on their heels (he still reeled over the fact that they had a fucking flying motorbike, and wondered what would Rider's reaction be).

The events in the past hour was so fast-paced and so surreal that the usually stoic Counter Guardian couldn't help but to chant in his head.

What the fuck had just happened?!