There are people in the world who can wake up in the morning, go about their lives, and then sleep peacefully. There are people in the world who don't find themselves constantly in life-and-death situations.

Harry Potter is not one of them.

"Oh dear."

Harry dove out of the way as sharp stalactites dropped down from the ceiling, nearly skewering him. It then promptly exploded. His wand spun in his hand as he formed a shield that protected him from the shrapnel.

"Why does this always happen to me?" Harry lamented, maintaining the shield with a forlorn face, "This was supposed to be a routine assessment! No, not even that. This was supposed to be my first vacation in years!" Harry casually dismissed the shield with a mere flick of his wand as he recalled the events that led to this catastrophe.

He was in South America. Peru, to be exact. Machu Picchu, to be even more accurate. Under the mountain inside the hidden caves, to be precise. The International Confederation of Wizards had sent him there. They had spun it well, making it seem like it'd be a walk in the park: an all-expenses paid vacation to South America. And all he had to do was to check out this little problem they'd detected.

Truthfully, he should've expected that something like this would happen. Trouble seemed to gravitate towards him. Harry had hope that this time, it'll be different. And so, ignoring his intuition telling him to say no, he'd foolishly agreed.

Making the international Apparition jump was easily done. He'd performed all the necessary calculations in his head, envisualised his destination, and spun in place, pumping vast amounts of magic needed to make such a long jump.

It was a flawless Apparition. Something that most normal wizards and witches cannot do without Splinching themselves halfway across the Atlantic Ocean.

He'd arrived at the Peruvian Embassy of Magic, accepted their refreshments (it was delicious) then quickly made his way to Machu Picchu. At first, he saw nothing wrong. The ruins were untouched, and there wasn't anything nefarious lurking around.

But there was still something there. Something underneath the ground. Harry didn't know how he knew it. It was akin to a sixth sense, a sense that people who regularly fight for their lives acquire. So Harry sunk in, transfiguring the dirt to air as he went. Deeper and deeper he travelled until he suddenly dropped down into a wide cave.

It was well-lit. Torches that gave off golden light line the walls. The walls themselves were covered with runes. Harry could recognize some of them: runes that concealed this area from discovery, anti-Muggle repelling wards, runes that prevented Divination from working. Clearly, this place was not meant to be discovered.

He'd been busy admiring the runes, for they were a masterpiece. Efficient, compact, not a drop of magic wasted. Suddenly, a bold of yellow light had shot out of the air in front of him. Harry had simply tilted his head to the side. Then the battle that he was currently in ensued.

"It'll be easy, they said! It's just some minor disturbances, and we just need you to check it out real quick, they said!" Harry's eyes widened as his senses screamed out at him. He quickly spun in place, Apparating 6 feet to his left. Where he had stood before was now a crater, the center of which was still red with heat. A near instantaneous blasting spell. Yet another brush with death.

"But no, of course I can't get anything simple in my life, can I, Rasputin?!"

The man in front of him grinned. He had white hair, similar to Harry's own, albeit a bit darker. His countenance was rugged and ancient, deep creases folding across his face. His teeth were sharp, much sharper than it should've been.

"I'm impressed. I really didn't think that you'd recognize me. You're better than I thought." Rasputin said, leering at Harry with his eyes. Harry recoiled. Rasputin's eyes had no light. There was no reflection; it was simply a dark and empty pit of misery. It reminded Harry of the artificial humans he came upon when he had infiltrated a vampire coven.

Harry smiled politely as he recalled everything he knew about this man in front of him. "Thank you, Grigori Yefimovich Rasputin. The self-proclaimed Holy Man. Who wouldn't recognize you? You've been on the ICW's kill list for a long time now. In fact, you were on their dead list several times as well. Tell me, how is it that you never die?"

Rasputin clicked his tongue at Harry. In his hand was a Shashka, a Russian saber. Runes ran down the entirety of the sword, leaving only the razor-sharp edge uncovered.

"Now, now. Just telling you wouldn't be fun at all. Why don't you see for yourself? If you can, that is." Then Rasputin swung down his Shashka. The runes glowed black briefly, before a wave of power blasted out. Harry stabbed his wand down onto the ground, hands blurring as he went through the necessary wand motions in the blink of an eye- literally.

The earth rose up, was transfigured into dense metals, and then was shaped into a multi-layered wall. It met the blast head on. The first layer blew out immediately, metal flying out and reverting back into dirt. Then the second layer. Then the third. Finally, it broke through the final defense, only to reveal Harry nowhere in sight.

Rasputin suddenly jumped up, leaping a solid 8 feet into the air. Below him the ground bubbled menacingly, before turning a deep orange color and blasting straight up like a geyser. The molten dirt and rock shot at Rasputin at immense speeds. Rasputin quickly swung his Shashka down, his speed defying his age. The Shashka bisected the stream of fire, splitting it in two, sending it to either side of Rasputin. Even as he did this, however, Rasputin tilted his head to the side. A moment later, sharp metal spikes flew from the stream right at where his head was and impaled the ceiling behind him.

"A classic trick. Startle the enemy by adjusting the battlefield around him, shock the enemy with a flashy but easily countered attack, whilst concealing the lethal blow within. It'd work on most people, but I'm not most people, am I?"

The fountain of fire stopped, as it became clear to Harry that it would have no effect. Harry canceled the Disillusionment charm wrapped around him, stepping out from the shadows. Harry's gaze was focused only on Rasputin's Shashka.

"That's a really nice blade. The runes are wonderful, not to mention the materials used itself." Harry spoke with a detached tone. Gone was the humorous lilt in his voice, replaced with a cold mechanical hardness.

Rasputin smiled. "Thank you. It's nice to see someone appreciate my work. It wasn't easy to make, you know."

Harry nodded his head slowly. He closed his eyes. Then he snapped them back open. A blast of magic exploded from Harry, blowing everything back a few inches. A sudden wind rushed through the cave. Harry's pale white hair was affected, blowing across to the side, as his white cloak started billowing out.

These displays of power all paled in comparison of Harry's eyes, however. They weren't glowing. There weren't any special effects. It was the same green as always. But somehow, someway it conveyed, no, promised only one thing.

Death.

"Easy? I'm no fool, Rasputin. That blade was forged with the bones of a drakon. In all my studies, I've only discovered one way to temper drakon bones, to make it malleable enough to hammer it into a blade. And that's by using Cursed Flames. How many children did it take for you to fuel the flames? How many people did you have to kill, how many lives did you have to destroy to be able to create such a monstrosity?" Harry roared out, his anger causing his magic to wildly lash out.

Cracks formed in the walls as an immense magical pressure filled the cave. Rasputin just stood there, seemingly unaffected. Harry felt a flash of rage as he stared at Rasputin's Shashka.

Drakons, like their successors the dragons, were immune to flames. They were immune to just about everything, actually. Legend said that they had initially spawned out from an active volcano around 32 million years ago. Powered by the ambient magic of the volcano, they had tough hides that were nigh impossible to penetrate and could breathe flames that scorched the skies.

They had gone nearly extinct, as was the case of many other ancient creatures, with perhaps only 3 drakons remaining in the world today, currently nesting deep within the magma vents of the Earth.

Their remains, while few, still existed, however. Harry had found some drakon bones and skins in the Pacific Ocean. The magic imbued in them, while greatly diminished, still made it so that even the crushing pressure of the ocean's depth and the maw of nature didn't make a dent.

Melting the bones to cast it was nearly impossible. Natural fire, no matter how hot, didn't work. Magical flames didn't either. Even the dark infernos of Fiendfyre had no effect.

Only flames powered by human sacrifice and suffering had any effect on drakon bones. It was called Cursed Flames, flames that had no real combat application because it takes a long time to form and once it does form, it cannot be moved from its original position. In terms of smelting power, however, no flames could possibly surpass it.

It was also extremely dark. Life energy supplied by humans and negative emotions supplied by torturing of said humans. Both of which were extremely potent sources of magical power, and both of which were pumped into the Cursed Flames.

Which is what makes the Shashka so terrifying. The power of Cursed Flames increases like a straight line graph, but the materials needed to get it to that power increases exponentially. For the Cursed Flames to be able to melt drakon bones, bones which legend say are completely immune to fires of all kinds, well.

Harry ran some quick Arithmantic calculations in his head. His heart wrenched at the results.

It wasn't a hundred humans. It wasn't a thousand. It was in the millions.

However, Cursed Flames are also terribly inefficient. A hundred humans providing life energy and suffering would only result in perhaps five humans worth of energy going into the flames itself. The rest would simply dissipate into the air.

Unless, of course, something had absorbed the excess energy.

The runes on top must've been used to convert all of the energy, all of the negative emotions and suffering into magic. Rasputin had created a pseudo-wand. No wood or magical core was used, only drakon bones and human suffering held together by runes. It was an abomination of the highest degree. Harry's own wand seemed to twitch in agreement.

Rasputin's eyes widened, causing his face to become even more inhuman and uncanny. Then he let out several rasps of breaths. Harry realized it was laughter. This monster had forgotten how to laugh normally.

"Oh, Harry Potter. I hadn't known that you were this well versed in the darker aspects of magic. I'd thought that you were Dumbledore's Golden Boy." Rasputin's voice had taken on a sing-song quality, as if mocking Harry.

"Well, since you asked," and he twirled around his Shashka like the blades of a fan, "It took around one and a half million lives to be able to melt the drakon bones. Several decades of work. You have no idea how hard it was to conceal all of this from the Confederation. It was even harder to keep it a secret from Dumbledore. But I prevailed. A little bit of sacrifices here, a little bit of genocide there, and soon enough, I had enough power to create my sword."

And his voice abruptly lost all mocking qualities, hardening into steel.

"And it is with this blade that I will retake what was rightfully mine and become God-King."

Harry inwardly cursed his luck. Had the ICW known that Rasputin was here? Definitely. They wouldn't call him out otherwise. But he had ignored his instincts. He couldn't resist the allure of a fun vacation. He thought he'd just go there, examine the grounds, detect maybe some minor wrongdoing, save the day, then eat good food and enjoy the scenery. Peace.

But instead, he's fighting yet another insane radical who wished to take over the world, not caring about how many lives were trampled in the process. And it was Harry's responsibility to stop him.

Story of his life.

Harry took a deep breath, drawing back in all of the magic he'd let flood the room. While great for intimidation tactics, it was a massive waste of his reserves. Instead, he quickly compressed and shuffled his magic until there was no magical presence at all. There was no leakage of magic into the natural environment.

Rasputin whistled. "That's impressive. I've only met maybe a hundred people who had that much control over their magic. Wow. That's actually insane. I can't sense you at all."

Harry didn't deign to respond, instead raising his wand at Rasputin and speaking two words.

"Infernis Arderet"

The Hellfire spell. It was similar to Fiendfyre in that it was extremely Dark magic and it involved flames, but that was where the similarity ended.

While Fiendfyre was almost a sentient creature composed of hatred that took up an animal form to burn and raze indiscriminately, Hellfire was a much more surgical fire that acted like a scalpel. It was useful when you didn't want to collapse everything around you, like if you were in a cave.

Red light exploded out from his wand. It was fast. So fast, in fact, that it reached Rasputin several times faster than the sound of his incantation did.

No sound barriers were broken, however, because spells technically had no mass, and therefore couldn't push against air molecules.

However fast Harry's curse was, however, it still wasn't as fast as Rasputin. His Shashka blurred up, runes glowing menacingly, and severed the curse in half. The curse, losing all structural integrity, quickly shattered into nothing, dissipating into the air.

Then Rasputin dashed forward at inhuman speeds, Shashka aimed to cut Harry into pieces. That was smart of him. In a battle of spells, Harry would reign supreme every time. In a close range fight, however, Harry was at a severe disadvantage without a blade that can stand up to the might of drakon bone.

Harry cursed. As in he said a bad word, not that he actually cast a spell. He spun and Disapparated backwards to gain more space, wand already up and blurring.

Several more red lights shot out from his wand. Rasputin merely cut them once again, a dark grin on his face showing just how much he relished this fight. Then the shattered spells exploded behind him.

Rasputin once against showcased just why he was still alive even with half the world's magical population gunning after him. He twisted around impossibly fast, his Shashka held before him. A blood-red shield expanded from the blade, shielding Rasputin entirely. The explosions bombarded his shield, futilely, not even forming the slightest crack.

"Too weak!" He cackled out, before dropping the shield and resuming his sprint towards Harry.

Harry only smirked.

Rasputin, in his hurry to impale Harry, had failed to notice while the red spells had cracked and exploded, they still weren't gone. A normal Hellfire spell couldn't do this.

A multi-layered spell could.

Indeed, Harry had used Hellfire as the shell, then layered down a time-delayed Blasting Curse and Transfiguration. Rasputin had cut the outer shell of Hellfire, leaving both the Blasting Curse and Transfiguration untouched. The Blasting Curse had gone off, only leaving the Transfiguration.

The sparks that hung in the air formed into sharp metal spikes. There was no lengthy transition; it was simply a spark one moment and spike the next.

Accio!

One of Harry's most used spells. He had spent countless hours practicing this one spell over and over again, until he could do it first non-verbally, and then wandlessly. No matter how many times his fingers bled and his head throbbed with pain, he pushed through and mastered the charm. Because he was never going to let someone fall to their death again. No matter what.

Harry summoned the spikes towards him, spearing Rasputin in the back. A second later, a loud BOOM could be heard as the sound barrier was burst. Rasputin gasped, spitting out blood. His lung was punctured. Harry felt a vicious sense of satisfaction. Good. Let him be hurt. It's what he deserves.

His momentum cut off, Rasputin could only stumble. He grasped at the spikes in his chest as if not believing they were really there.

"H-h-how?"

"You could sense and react to offensive magic, magic meant to hurt and to kill. But against a simple transfiguration and summoning. . . well, your senses disregarded them as nothing. Don't worry, this lack of awareness is normal for people who're getting along in their years." Rasputin twitched at the insult, but was too busy trying to stem the blood flow.

Even as Harry spoke, he was blurring through more wand motions. From the ground came huge twisting pieces of wood, curling around Rasputin before hardening into petrified wood. Stalactites came crashing down in an identical fashion to what Rasputin had done to Harry earlier in the fight, forming a cage around Rasputin. Tendrils of shadows erupted from cracks in the ground, wrestling away the Shashka and bringing it to Harry.

Throughout all this, Rasputin only had a grin on his face. Harry stared back, unfazed. Rasputin was strong, yes, but against him, there wasn't much he could do.

He was, after all, Harry Potter, Prodigy of Hogwarts, the Fifth Marauder, and Apprentice of Dumbledore.

Even so, Harry couldn't help but feel that this was a little bit too easy. Rasputin was centuries old. He was a wily bastard, capable of evading the authorities that wanted his head. And he fell this easily? Were the ICW's HitWizards really that incompetent, or was it something else?

Harry reached towards the Shashka. Rasputin's grin grew wider. Oh HELL NO.

Harry didn't know what was happening, and he didn't want to know either. He immediately jumped back from the Shashka, banishing it simultaneously, but it was too late. The runes on the blade suddenly expanded off of the blade and clamped onto Harry's wrist.

Pain rushed into his body as negative emotions filled his mind.

DESTROY HATE MADNESS KILL BURN PILLAGE MURDER CANNIBALIZE TORTURE MAIM KILL DESTROY

Harry gritted his teeth and started applying Occlumency to shield his mind from the attack. His head cleared instantly, but it was too late. In the milliseconds that he was incapacitated by the sudden attack, even more runic script had left the blade and crawled onto his body, causing his skin to be entirely covered with runes.

"What is this?!" Harry yelled, expelling magic from all of his pores, trying to get the runes off. While some was forced off by the sheer power, much more stubbornly stayed on.

"Oh, well you see," Rasputin said, "I lied earlier. This blade… it's not my work. It belongs to someone much older than me. I'm sure you've heard of him. His name is Selimir."

Harry reared back, shocked. Selimir was one of the Vampiric Lords. He was millenia old, older than human civilisation itself. When humans had first begun the shift from nomadic to sedentary lifestyle, he was there drinking their blood. He was one, if not the most powerful vampire on the planet. To think that he was the one behind this. . .

"I'm sure the relevance of this location isn't lost on you either." Rasputin continued his monologue, uncaring of how the petrified wood was starting to contract and crush his body. "Machu Picchu was where the ancient Vampiric Lords had set up base to begin systematically gather blood. Humans from all over the world was brought to this place, hooked up to devices that would drain their bodies of blood but kept them alive, not letting them sleep or having any respite from the pain. For thousands of years, all of the negative emotions and death and pain and suffering was more than adequate to power the Cursed Flames to melt the drakon blood. And all the excess power didn't go to waste. It all went into the sword. For thousands of years, that sword had rested in the center of the mountain, absorbing all the power it can get for the vampires' final battle against the Gods themselves."

I see. It's similar to the Elder Wand then, only instead of memories, it collected pure magic in the form of human suffering, Harry thought.

Harry closed his eyes. This next spell was going to take a lot of concentration. He shaped the magic within himself, layering it and wrapping it around itself ten, twenty, thirty times. He increased the density and amount of magic until there was literally a glow of light surrounding him. He let himself get lost in the belief in the world, the faith and conviction present everywhere. Then he raised his wand and shouted three words that shouldn't have been able to be pronounced by the human tongue.

"- - -"

Let there be light.

A blast of holy light came down from the ceiling of the cave. It defied every known law of physics. It passed through the rocks and earth as if it wasn't there, radiant silver light bathing Harry in its rays. The runes dissolved, melting away, forced off of Harry by the sheer holiness of the light. Rasputin hissed, unable to look at it.

The Light of the Heavens. One of the few Divine spells in Harry's repertoire. It doesn't harm anything Good or natural, only cleansing out the darkness and evil. Creatures of nightmares perish beneath the blinding rays, and curses and even death is momentarily repelled.

The light then attacked the sword. The runes on the sword shifted, trying to escape the attack. Then it shattered.

No. That was wrong. Only the surface shattered. A glamour?

It was now a simple straight sword with a double-edge. It was nondescript, a simple blade. But the amount of power emanating off of it… it far exceeded anything Harry had seen in his entire life. So it had a surface layer both to conceal its true identity and the scope of its power?

Rasputin looked shocked when the light first came down and destroyed the sword's surface, but he quickly regained his wits.

"Unfortunately, the vampiric lords had become enemies of Grindelwald in the Great War. Quite foolish of them. They were massacred, with only a few being able to escape, Selimir being one of them. Not only that, but they were massacred here, at this exact location. Can you imagine it? The sheer amount of magical energy that beings thousands of years old would contain? All trapped within that sword that you now hold?! Do you think that the holy light is enough to destroy it?" Rasputin laughed out loud, giving off more of those rasping sounds.

Just as he said, the light tried its best to cleanse the evil from the blade, to vanquish it from existence, but it was all for naught. It slowly fizzled out, Harry being unable to maintain the Divine for a long time. The runes burst back into existence, faster now, as if it were angry. It leaped back onto Harry's skin and started growing again, this time targeting nerves as it did so. Harry hissed in pain as he cast several more spells at the runes to try and destroy them.

"How did you get this sword then? You can't possibly defeat Selimir in direct combat to take it from him." Harry was running out of spells he can cast. Purifying charms, Radiance Spells, Nullifying Curses. . . nothing seemed to hold back the runes. They were too powerful.

"He gave it to me, of course, on the sole condition that I'd use it to kill you."

"OH COME ON." Harry groaned. "When did I piss off Selimir? Wait, I take that back. When did I piss him off so much that he'd use a weapon reserved for a fight against the Gods to kill me?"

Rasputin shrugged. "It was what the Council decided."

Harry's eyes bugged out. The Council was a group of the oldest, most powerful nonhuman beings on the planet. Some disliked humans, other disliked each other, some disliked everything in general. They rarely decided on anything.

"You mean, one decided to do it right? And the others followed because it was too much trouble to argue?"

Rasputin shook his head. "Nope. It was a near unanimous decision to kill you. I've never seen them this unified on a matter before. It makes sense, though."

"What do you mean?! Why do they all hate me so much?"

Rasputin tilted his head. His lips curved up even further.

"Isn't it obvious? You're like Dumbledore, only much more violent and idealistic. They can tolerate Dumbledore because he's diplomatic and respects the balance of power. You, on the other hand, are willing to do anything to save lives. You upset the balance of power in the land, uncaring of tradition and treaties as you save the pitiful lives of humans. Actions have consequences."

Harry paused in his strugglings. "Ok, fair enough."

Rasputin chuckled. Then he gave a gasp of pain. The wood had already crushed most of his bones, and was currently grinding together the muscles. Blood was trickling out of the cracks.

Harry stared. According to his eyes and general knowledge of human biology, Rasputin's internal organs should be absolutely devastated by now. He should be dead. The pain itself should've been enough to send him into shock, and the blood loss enough to kill him.

"I see. So this is what they mean when they say you're unkillable. Is it regeneration, similar to Phoenix tears?" Harry mused, absently trying an ancient Chinese purifying spell on the runes. Bright yellow light flowed into the runes, trying to fight it off. It worked for a single moment, the runes momentarily stopping, before the sword gave another pulse of power and the light was snuffed out.

"Nope. No phoenixes were harmed in the making of my body, I promise."

Harry sighed. He really didn't want to use this, but his options were running out.

He took a deep breath, anchored himself, then exited Reality, scattering his atoms like the winds, leaving behind only a magical image. The runes, with nothing to hold onto, disappeared.

This was one of his most powerful abilities: the ability to Fade in and out of Reality. He anchors himself into Reality with thought and willpower, then, similar to Apparition, he scatters his atoms and forces his soul out of Reality into nonbeing.

Of course, this would be rather useless in battle if he had no senses to know what was going on. Returning to Reality right in the path of an Avada Kedavra won't exactly be a fun experience.

The question is how to acquire senses. Since he no longer had a physical body, only his soul and magic, he wasn't able to create organs of the normal sense. So he created magical ones.

An image of himself remained in Reality, albeit extremely transparent, created only by magic. No point in wasting magic on making it solid, after all. It was linked to him by a small stream of magic that started in Point A (the image) and ended in Point B (his soul) without actually transversing the distance in between, giving him instantaneous information.

Magic was cool like that.

As a result, Harry could still use all 5 senses even as he had no physical body. And he could see how Rasputin reacted when Harry escaped his sword.

Rasputin's grin widened even more. In fact, Harry could sEe small rips opening up where Rasputin's cheek muscles had pulled too hard. Oh, that was nasty.

What was he-

"NOW!" Rasputin shouted.

Harry hEaRd his shout, and immediately tried to go back into solid form, searching for the anchor and re-imagining himself back into reality. But it was too late.

The walls of the cave collapsed, revealing Twenty-Two nonhuman beings standing around. The Council, minus one member. The dirt on the ground burned away, revealing runes drawn into the ground.

This wasn't a simple runic array that could be drawn in an hour. The amount and complexity of these runes meant that it'd taken literal years to draw and power up. Harry could vaguely rEcOgNiZe Selimir standing on one corner of the pseudo-circle, his pale skin contrasting heavily with the blood on his lips.

He could also sEe the enemies he'd made over the years. A Faery, a Druid, a Sea Serpent, a Chimaera, a Succubus, and many more. All were powerful. All could destroy a country in a single day. And they were all there, pumping magic into the first layer of the runes.

Was he going to die here? Harry mentally gritted his teeth in anger, as he didn't have a physical body at the moment. He could take them one-on-one. In fact, he was confident that he could take on all of them at once, provided that could just return to solid state. With few Killing Curses here, a few Forbidden spells there, and a lot of Dark Magic in the middle, he could probably beat them back. Not kill them all, not defeat them all, but not die either. And against Twenty-Two of the most powerful beings on the planet, that was good enough.

But he couldn't fight back, not until he was actually able to cast magic. He needed to be in a physical form for that, and the runes on the ground prevented him from reforming.

How had they even managed to find a counter to his Fading? Did one of them reverse engineer the process? Even Dumbledore hadn't found a method to stop it yet. Actually, he probably had, but was saving it as an Ace-in-the-Hole just in case Harry turned his back on the Greater Good. The manipulative old bastard was like that.

But Harry still wished with all his might that Dumbledore was there. As much as Dumbledore annoyed him sometimes, he was still his teacher and loved Harry like a grandfather would.

(Harry ignored the voice in the back of his head that said that he loved him back just as much.)

Nevertheless, no matter what Harry did, he couldn't return back to a physical state. He suddenly felt fear, the first time in a very long time. Was this his fate then? Was he to remain less than a spirit, less than what Voldemort had been when his body was destroyed? Doomed only to be able to observe through the faintest wisps of magic he'd left on Earth, but never to interact and do anything?

Of course not. The Council wouldn't be content to just let him be. They'd want to kill him. The second layer of the runic layer activated as all Twenty-Two pumped magic into it. A lot of magic. A hell of a lot. Harry wouldn't be surprised if the shockwave created a 10.0 Richter Scale earthquake. And yes, he was aware of how the Richter Scale was exponential. He'd gotten a rather large lecture from Hermione when he said that a Richter 15 earthquake would probably only destroy a country. Turns out, it's enough to crack the Earth itself in half. Who knew.

The cave trembled, magic being the only thing holding it together. The second layer of the runic array cycled through the colors of the rainbow, before letting loose a focused beam of energy. Right at Harry's anchor.

Oh no. Oh hell no. With nothing holding him down to Reality, Harry would become nonbeing. Something thought impossible.

A voice that sounded suspiciously like Hermione whispered it's like you to be the first human to be Vanished. Your luck really is that terrible.

And like all Vanished objects, Harry would become unrecoverable. He wasn't even sure if he'd be granted the mercy of death, or if he'd be trapped with no sensory stimulus, with only his thoughts and magic to occupy him for all of eternity.

The fear that Harry felt got blown into full pants-crapping terror. This was bad. He blamed the ICW for this- wait. There was no way it was a coincidence that he of all people was sent. There was a traitor in the ICW then, or maybe the Succubus had seduced a member. Whatever the case, it was all up to Dumbledore now. There wasn't much that Harry could do anymore.

The anchor, the only thing that connected Harry to Reality, broke. There wasn't any sound. There wasn't even a flash of light. It just simply broke. And Harry lost all connection with Reality.

Instantly, all of his senses went dark. Sight, sound, touch, smell, taste. He received no information. The sudden lack of sensory input caused his brain to go into disarray. He probably would've lost his sanity if he wasn't using Occlumency at the moment to clear his mind. As it was, he still had to gather all of his magic around his mind in order to preserve his sanity.

His brain may not exist, but his mind does. One is physical, the other exists in the soul. And at this point, his soul and magic is all he has, and he may not even have that soon, as he slowly evanesces out of existence.

Harry tried to bite his lip. A habit he hadn't had since he was fourteen years old, facing Voldemort in that graveyard. There was nothing to bite, of course. There was nothing anymore.

Harry was reduced to nothing but a soul with magic wrapped around himself, trying to not let the nonbeing make him their own.

Thankfully, he still had access to his magic. Small miracles.

Harry didn't know how long he stayed like that, trying to resist being erased. The world didn't like how a being was in nonbeing, and was trying to rectify that mistake. Only magic pushed it back. That, and the thoughts of his friends. Ron. Hermione. Luna. Dumbledore. Their faces lent him strength.

Harry had lost all sense of time. Time was, after all, a mortal concept, and it could be argued that he was no longer a mortal. Hours, days, weeks, months, even years would have passed by him and he wouldn't have known.

But soon, it became too much for Harry. Even the thoughts of his friends and loved ones wasn't enough. There's only so much the mind could take before it started to fracture. And once his mind started to fracture, he'd lose his control over his magic. Then, with nothing to defend him, he'd become nonbeing. In essence, he'd die.

Harry didn't want to die. No matter how many times he joked about it, no matter how many reckless actions he took, he really didn't want to die.

Then he felt something. His magic had reached out in the nothingness, expecting nothing but finding something. A tear in Reality. A small tear, but it was enough for him to force himself through. Well, he was always taught to take advantage of the situation.

He let his magic guide him fOrWaRdSiDeWaYsBaCkWaRdUpDoWn. He had no sense of direction anymore. All he relied on was his magic. Just like always.

Then he passed through a small opening. Immediately, his magic sung out, reconnecting with the world. He was back in Reality. But he had no body. Quickly, he called his magic to return his atoms to him. But it didn't work. Where was it? Did the Council annihilate everything in a hundred-mile radius? That was one way to destroy his physical body when it was in its atomic state.

But that was extremely improbable. After all, his atoms were protected by his magic, and it required exponentially more magical power to destroy his atoms than it would to destroy his body.

Dumbledore had used a sand analogy to explain it. Destroying a sand castle was simple, absurdly so. But destroying the individual sand particles is much harder. Raw power wasn't enough, just like how you can't break sand by dropping it. Instead, you needed an extremely focused power to carve up each atom individually, breaking apart the magical defense and the bonds themselves.

Then Harry felt something force his soul and magic into a body that wasn't his own. All five senses returned to him in a rush. His mind, now with the normal sensory inputs, returned to normal. He quickly scanned his new body. Oddly, it was exactly the same as his old one. The only way he could tell it wasn't actually his was because there was none of Voldemort's taint on it.

Other than that, as far as Harry could tell, it was exactly the same as his own. Only this time, there seemed to be something tugging at his magic. Something connected to it. And he suddenly knew a new language. Japanese. What the hell? Whatever, he'll examine it later. But where was his wand?

Harry then looked around. He wasn't in Machu Picchu anymore. He was in a dark room. Moonlight streamed in through the double doors. There were boxes everywhere. A few pots, as well as a chest on a table. A storage closet, then? Whatever the case, he couldn't locate his wand anywhere.

A flash of panic went through him. Without a wand, he couldn't do most of his most powerful spells. He felt naked without it, as if he'd lost a limb. Whatever. He'll have to manage. Just to be sure, he tried to summon his wand. Pain tore through him at the attempt. He was severely weakened. His magic was taxed to the extreme in the nonbeing realm. He pushed through the pain, however, and managed to complete the spell. Nothing flew out to him. No familiar sight of a holly wand. So it truly wasn't there then.

He glanced down. He was wearing his normal white cloak, with a white shirt and white pants underneath. All of which were sparkling clean, as usual. He was standing on top of a. . . runic array?

It must've been one, but Harry didn't recognize the runes being used. It was arranged in a circle, and it was still glowing a pale blue color.

This must've been the cause of the tear in Reality, then. And it was what saved Harry from his fate of being deleted by the world.

Then Harry noticed the blood on the ground. Harry inhaled. Fresh blood. Where was he? What happened? The sound of metal clashing against metal brought him out of his reverie.

There were people fighting outside. And he hadn't noticed. In Harry's defense, after being trapped in nonbeing for so long, his mind was scattered and shell-shocked. He wasn't fully recovered yet, not to mention how his magic was debilitated and diminished.

Even so, even as his mind protested and his magic objected, he couldn't rest. There were people fighting outside. People could get hurt. And it was his responsibility to prevent that.

Hermione had always said he had a saving people thing. Luna had always just smiled at him, understanding why he did what he did. Ron just called him a batshit insane adrenaline junkie.

Dumbledore had called him a hero.

He exited the double doors out into a clearing. There were buildings enclosing the clearing. A few trees littered the ground, bringing nature into the picture. Asian architecture. Chinese, or perhaps Japanese?

Harry absently noted the stars' position in the clear night sky. They weren't right. Some were misplaced, others were where they physically cannot be, and some were missing altogether. Where the hell was he?

Then he shifted his gaze to the battle in front of him. He was standing next to a red-haired boy with Asian features who was focused on the fight in front of him. He had multiple cuts on him- was that blood coming from his heart?! There was a bloodstain right over his heart!

Out in the clearing stood a blonde-haired girl with emerald eyes. She was dressed in a blue and white skirt, and was covered with metal armor. Regardless of her wear, she was beautiful.

Facing against her was a man in blue. Blue hair, blue shirt, blue pants. He had red eyes and a red spear. Looks like he appreciated color coordination just as much as Harry did. Harry distractedly touched his white hair that matched his clothes while looking at the scene in front of him.

They were currently exchanging blows faster than the eye can see. Harry carefully applied magic to his eyes, speeding up its functions by a hundred-fold. The blurs slowed down- or rather, his eyes sped up. Every detail was seen in perfect clarity, from how the girl's hair flowed as she blocked the man's attack, to the minute tensing of the tendons in the man's neck as he thrust forward.

Then he analyzed the fight itself, and he saw something beautiful.

Every action, every stab and parry and slice, was perfect. There was no wasted movement like in the case of Rasputin. There weren't any grand dramatic motions, like what Voldemort had preferred. The two were experts of their tools. In all of history, they would be at the top of their respective weapons. And their technique showed it.

It was clean. It was efficient. It was methodical.

It was beautiful.

The red-haired boy suddenly noticed his presence. He gave a small yelp of fright as he jumped away from Harry. It was a quiet yelp, more of a murmur than anything, but somehow the two fighting heard it over the clangs of their attacks.

They both leaped back, looking at the new arrival with interest and suspicion.

"When did you get here? And how the hell didn't I notice you?!" The man in the blue asked, spear held at the ready, wary for any attacks.

The girl was much more direct. She rushed him, invisible sword held out to the side, fully intent on cutting him to pieces.

"Remove yourself from my Master's side." Her voice was cold and calm.

Harry pondered if he could block the blow. Probably not. The weapon could be enchanted to pierce shields. He wasn't recovered enough to be able to sense at his full capabilities, so he had no way of ascertaining its magical properties. So he spun in place, Apparating onto the roof of a building.

Both the man and the girl flinched. Odd. His Apparition didn't have the customary gunshot sound. It was completely silent. A skill Harry had perfected when he was only 15 years old.

"What the hell was that?" The man shouted. "Teleportation? True Magic?! Are you Caster?"

The girl only nodded in agreement. "I too would like to know."

Harry cocked his head in confusion as he addressed the man's questions.

"That was Apparition. Well, you could call it teleportation, but the formal term is Apparition. I don't know what you mean by True Magic. And no, I do not know who this 'Caster' is."

He supposed Caster could've been a title similar to wizard or sorcerer, but with the emphasis the man placed on the word, it must've been a name.

Harry stepped off of the roof, manipulating his magic around him to cancel his momentum the instant his foot touched the ground. He noted how the man and the girl's eyes flashed dangerously as they noticed how even though he dropped from a considerable height, no dust or dirt was disturbed by his landing.

The man grunted. "Who are you then? No normal magus can do what you just did."

Harry smiled, his emerald eyes seeming to sparkle in the moonlight as his white hair danced across his face in the sudden wind that blew across the clearing.

"My name is Harry Potter. It's a pleasure to meet you."

The man tilted his head. "Nope, never heard of you."

Harry felt a brief sense of irritation. Hadn't heard of him? Harry had probably saved the mortal world thrice over, and he hadn't heard of him? Were they living under a rock?

Wait. They hadn't heard of him. Which means they don't know who he is. Which means there are no preconceived notions, no expectations, no begging him to solve their problems because he was the damned Man-Who-Lived. That actually sounded nice.

Then he thought back to what the girl had said moments before.

"Wait. What do you mean by Master?!"

The girl simply stared back at him. "He is my Master, of course. If you claim you are not Caster, then what is your identity? How did you get here without Lancer nor I noticing your presence? You weren't here a moment before."

Harry shivered as he thought of the connotations. So she was that type, huh? But she looked awfully young. He looked over at the boy, who stared right back. Incomprehension melted into comprehension at Harry's accusing look.

The red-haired boy suddenly shook his head furiously.

"No! She didn't mean it like that! Don't take it that way!"

The boy's face was as red as his hair.

The man in blue- Lancer- gave a bark of laughter. "You have no idea what the Holy Grail War is, do you, Potter?"

Harry searched his mind for Holy Grail War. He couldn't think of anything, besides the legend of King Authur pursuing the Holy Grail. The Grail had been lost centuries ago. So why was there a war being fought over it? Even if they had found it, it wasn't exactly an all-powerful relic. It was similar to the Goblet of Fire: a pretty cool gimmick, but useless in the long run.

It would also be obscenely expensive. That could also be another motivator. Harry could see avarice everywhere he went. It's already been the cause of countless wars, why not another.

But even as he thought it, Harry discounted the idea. The man and girl in front of him didn't seem to be the greedy sort. They were both warriors. She was even dressed like a knight, for Merlin's sake.

"I'm afraid I don't know," Harry admitted with an embarrassed smile. "I'm not exactly sure how I arrived here. All I know is that I suddenly appeared on top of the runic array on the ground in the storage closet over there."

The man and girl stilled.

"The magic circle?" The girl asked, incredulity evident in her voice.

"Well, you could call it that. Now, I know it sounds unlikely, but I promise, I have no idea how I ended up h-"

"That is impossible." The girl spoke resolutely.

"Yeah, pretty sure that you're lying there." The man agreed. "I've never heard of one magic circle being able to summon 2 Heroic Spirits. Besides, even if you were telling the truth, who's your Master then? It can't possibly be that cur over there. . ."

His voice trailed off as his eyes widened. The girl also turned over to look at the red-haired boy. Shock overcame her beautiful features.

"2 sets of Command Seals?!" Both shouted.

Harry glanced over curiously. What were they- oh. On each of the boy's hands was a red rune. Were they the so called Command Seal then?

Then he realized something. The thing tugging on his magic was coming from one of the runes. Was it a control rune? Is that why the girl called him Master? Because she was trapped by his clutches, unable to break free of his control?

And was the same thing going to happen to him?

"So you are Caster then," the man growled. He shifted his stance so that he was facing both Harry and the girl at once. Harry tensed as he felt a large amount of magic gathering in the spear. In his weakened state without a wand, it'd be hard to win the fight.

Harry held up his hands in the universal gesture of surrender. "I'm not Caster. I'm also not looking for a fight here, actually."

The man grinned savagely, his blue ponytail swaying in the wind. "But a fight is what you'll get."

And with that, the man thrust forward, his red spear glinting in the moonlight.

"GAE" the man shouted out.

Harry didn't want to be around when he completed that incantation. He Disapparated away once more.

The man choked on spit. Although Harry didn't know it, he'd just done the impossible. Gae Bolg, the Barbed Spear that Pierces with Death, is an attack that reverses cause and effect, the effect being STABBED BY SPEAR and the cause being STABBING WITH SPEAR. It is undodgeable and unblockable unless the target possesses a high luck. Harry had no such luck.

Instead, Harry had removed the connection between him and the spear.

Apparition is a method of teleportation that involves the user anchoring themselves to reality by envisualising their destination and then scattering their atoms and going into the realm of nonbeing before reassembling themselves at the destination.

Unlike with Harry's time spent in nonbeing, however, since Apparition is instantaneous, there is no time spent in nonbeing, and thus there are no harmful effects.

It's a paradox; after all, if no time is spent in nonbeing, then the person isn't in nonbeing at all. Yet they must be in nonbeing, otherwise they cannot get from one place to another instantaneously. The laws of Reality state that to get from Point A to Point B, there must be time spent traveling the distance. The amount of magic that'd be required to overwrite that law is far too consuming, and it requires a lot more preparation- as is the case with Portkeys.

Portkeys override the laws of Reality itself, creating a wormhole that doesn't affect anything but the user utilizing it. The downside is that it takes a lot longer to create. A skilled wizard like Dumbledore could do it in seconds, but on the battlefield, that's too long for it to be viable.

Apparition, on the other hand, is much quicker because it technically doesn't violate the law; the user jumps from Reality into nonbeing then exits, traveling no distance in nonbeing and as such spending no time in nonbeing, only the exit point is a completely different point on Reality.

In essence, even though in Reality, the user has traveled distance, in nonbeing, he traveled no distance, which is why the time is zero and no laws of nature are being violated.

It was some mind-boggling stuff. Dumbledore had to explain it to him at least three times.

Harry's Fading took it a step further. He remained in nonbeing, his soul only being protected by his magic and thoughts. Since he's actually entering nonbeing and staying there, anti-Apparition wards do not work on him. Anti-Apparition wards work by preventing the user from exiting nonbeing through flooding the area with a specific type of magic. Since the user cannot exit, and they spend no time in nonbeing, they then cannot enter either. And if they can't enter nonbeing, then they can't Disapparate.

When people Disapparate, they don't have to do anything to protect their souls from the unraveling effects of being in the realm of nonbeing, since they're not actually entering nonbeing.

Harry has to, though. Through a mixture of luck and pressure, he discovered a method that allows him to resist the effects of nonbeing for a time by creating a defense around his soul. He's the only human in recorded history to be able to do this, however.

Normal people can't get their souls to be contained by magic without using physical means. A Horcrux, for example, is bound by a container. Ghosts are more imprints of a soul, so they don't count. But nothing physical is allowed to exist in nonbeing, for nonbeing is nothing.

Harry's soul is a unique case.

With the sheer amount of blood rituals used on him when he was a baby by his mother combined with the fact that his soul was constantly in battle with a shard of an insanely powerful dark wizard's soul mean that his soul is different.

He could, with clever application of magic, protect his soul from the nonbeing, thus being able to remain in nonbeing for some time.

Harry had no idea how he can do it.

Dumbledore had given up within a few months of examining Harry, proclaiming, "I'm already sleeping too little. I can't afford to lose any more sleep over an impossible problem. I still have to figure out whether the dragon or the egg came first. I hope you can understand, my boy."

Hermione took a bit longer to give up. It was in the middle of dinner in the Great Hall when she suddenly broke down in tears, saying "I-i-i can't. There's no way you can be alive. You shouldn't even be existing. You're too much for me to handle."

In retrospect, perhaps replying with "That's what she said" wasn't the best idea.

It was a new muggle joke that he'd been wanting to try out. If only it didn't land him in the hospital wing, it would've been pretty funny. Hermione was scary when she was angry.

The most ingenious part about Fading, however, was the fact that Harry can manipulate where his anchor is. Since he still has his 5 senses, he can see a new destination, and make his anchor go over there. Which means that even if he exited Reality in one point, he can re-enter wherever he wants.

Harry's Fading was overpowered. It really was.

Back to the battle.

When Harry had Disapparated, in the "time" spent in nonbeing, he wasn't in Reality. Gae Bolg wasn't precise enough to maintain a connection over the realms, and so by Disapparating, he'd severed the connection between him and Gae Bolg, negating the attack.

"So it IS True Magic." The man breathed out, a small hint of fear appearing on his face.

Lancer had no problems fighting Heroic Spirits, monsters, demons, Mages, and pissed-off women. He drew the line at fighting Sorcerers who can toss around True Magic like candy. So did his Master, it seemed.

The man in blue spun his spear around in a graceful arc so that it was behind him.

"Whatever. My job is to observe, not take on two Servants at once." He turned around to leave.

"Wait, Lancer!" The girl demanded. "You're running away?"

The man looked back. "You're welcome to chase me." Then his veins bulged out and he gave her a death glare. "But if you do, you'll die."

With that ominous threat, he jumped up and out of the clearing, much faster than any human could.

Harry watched him go with a small sigh of relief. His head hurt and his blood felt hot under his skin. Sweat dotted his back. Even the small applications of magic was too much for him to handle at the moment. If the man decided to attack again, he wouldn't be able to win.

The girl turned to face Harry, weapon once again held to her side. Not attacking immediately? Looks like she had a code of honor. Harry felt himself relax somewhat. This meant that diplomacy would probably work.

"I ask of you, are you my Master's Servant?" She said, this time looking slightly confused.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. There does seem to be some magic binding me to him, though." He pointed at the red-haired boy, who took a step back, as if expecting Harry to shoot a spell out of his finger.

The girl nodded. "I see. Although this has never happened before, it's clear that we're both Servants under the same Master."

The red-haired boy stepped in. "What the hell are you guys?"

The girl turned over to him. "As you can see, I am your Saber class Servant. As such, please call me Saber." And she gave him a small smile.

The boy's cheeks turned red again.

"I-i'm Shirou. Emiya Shirou," he stammered out.

Saber's eyebrows lifted. "Emiya?" She shook her head, then turned to Harry.

"Are you the Caster class Servant then?" Saber asked.

Harry scratched his head. "See, here's the thing. I have no idea what you just said."

Saber's eyes narrowed. "So you don't know of the Holy Grail War and your role in it?"

Harry shook his head. "Like I said, I have no idea how or why I'm here."

"The Grail should've given you all the information you need. You're speaking the language of this time, are you not? That was given to you by the Grail. But you claim that it did nothing beyond that?"

Harry nodded. So that was where the Japanese had come from. The Grail must be pretty powerful then. Language spells, while not unheard of, were still quite rare.

Saber looked at him suspiciously. "Very well then. I suppose I shall have no choice but to believe you. I hope that we can be good partners in this War."

"Umm. . . about that." Shirou spoke up.

Saber turned back towards him. "I know. You're not a proper Master, are you?"

Shirou seemed turn a bit redder. "Hang on, isn't it weird to start calling me Master all of a sudden like that?"

Saber regarded him cooly. "I shall call you Shirou, then." Then she directed her gaze at Harry.

"Just call me Harry," Harry said as he saw her unspoken question.

Saber nodded. She turned around and started walking. "Shirou and Harry. . . Yes, the sound of that is pleasing to me."

Then she stopped and turned to face a building.

Shirou suddenly flinched. He held up his hands. There was a red rune on the back of each of his hands.

"What are these?" He asked.

"Those are called Command Seals. Please, do try to avoid using them carelessly." Saber answered.

So Harry was right then! These "Command Seals" probably placed her under Shirou's control. Him as well. But then why does it sound like they'd just met? And that Shirou had no idea what the Command Seals were? Was there an outside force at work here?

"Harry, please back me up." Saber said. Then she knelt down and jumped straight up. Saber landed on top of the roof, surveying her surroundings.

"There are two enemies outside. Between the two of us, they shouldn't pose a problem."

"Wait, what do you mean by two enemies outside?" Shirou called out helplessly.

Harry rubbed his temples. His head really, really hurt. He just wanted to sleep, but he had to carry on. He spun once more, sending pain shooting across his body, Apparating next to Saber on the roof.

"What are we looking at?" He asked. Saber merely jumped down to the ground, motioning for him to follow. They were in a small street lit up by dim streetlamps. Nobody was around but a white-haired man with tanned skin wearing a red jacket and a black-haired girl. Who was very pretty.

She was prettier than Fleur Delacour, Harry realized. Then Saber dashed into action, breaking him from his thoughts. He's becoming delirious in pain. Best end this quickly.

He moved to help, but it soon became clear that no assistance was needed. The man had pulled out dual blades, a black and white one, out of nowhere. Saber and the man then exchanged a quick series of blows, but it was apparent to Harry who had the upper hand in skill.

Sometime throughout the fight, the girl had been knocked down, stunned by the ferocity of the blows not even 2 feet away from her, and was currently on her knees.

That brought Harry to action. As Saber moved to skewer the man, Harry cast a quick Accio at her. She came flying back, but much slower than usual. Wait, the spell stopped working. She was only pulled for about a foot before the spell died out.

Harry was speechless. He'd really only seen this happen when he tried to summon extremely magical resistant creatures, like giants or trolls. Who was Saber?

Even so, the summoning charm was enough to stop Saber's attack. She looked back questioningly at Harry, a small glare on her face.

"Why did you try to stop me, Harry? I would've cut them down with great ease." She asked, steel in her tone.

Behind Harry, Shirou seemed to have arrived as well.

"Saber, hold on. I have no idea what's going on." Shirou said.

"I'm clueless as well. Please, fill us in before you go around killing people who hasn't made any actions against you." Harry agreed. Although he didn't outwardly show it, that single summoning charm caused his condition to deteriorate even more. His vision began to blacken at the edges.

"You'd try to stop me on account of such a trivial thing when we're in battle?" Saber asked angrily.
She turned around, ready to attack once more, when the girl on the ground hummed out loud.

"Ah, so that's how it is, my good novice Master." She said in a pleasant tone. She stood up, eyes closed as if in preparation. Then she opened them, revealing light blue orbs, and gave a brilliant smile.

"For starters, good evening, Emiya."

XxX

Against Saber's wishes, Shirou led the girl into his compound. He'd introduced the girl as Rin Tohsaka, his school's idol. As they walked into the rooms, Rin had performed a simple repairing charm on the broken window pane, expressing surprise that Shirou couldn't do the same. Shirou then surprised her by revealing that he'd fought Lancer alone. Well, not fought so much as tried to stay alive, but close enough.

Harry personally didn't care. He just wanted to collapse, but just in case Lancer returned, he had to remain vigilant.

The man, Archer, had already left, dissolving into light. Harry might've wanted to study that later, but for now, he let it pass without question.

Shirou, Rin, Harry, and Saber were currently in a Japanese-styled room. Tatami mats lined the floor. Sliding doors blocked the path to the hallway. They were all kneeling down on small purple mats. A TV was in the corner of the room (Harry edged away from it, afraid that it'd explode) and there were several vases filled with flowers decorating the room.

Rin and Shirou were sitting across from each other, a low rise table in the middle. Harry and Saber sat behind and to the side of Shirou.

Rin had taken off her red jacket, leaving her in a white and brown outfit and black skirt. She was sipping from a cup of tea that Shirou had made.

"Now, let's get down to business. You have no idea what this Master business is, do you?" She asked, leaning forward onto the table.

Shirou nodded. "No, I don't."

"To be blunt, you've been chosen as a Master. Have you noticed any stigmata on your body?"

"Stigmata?" Shirou inquired.

"She means Command Seals," Saber cut in from behind him. She'd dematerialized her armor the same way Archer had left, leaving her in a blue dress and white button up shirt.

Shirou gave a small noise of understanding. "Oh, these." He lifted up his hands inspecting the two runes.

"These?!" For the first time since Harry met her, Rin lost her cool. Her eyes were wide as she looked disbelievingly at Shirou's hands. "You have two sets? But how? That means you have two Servants already?" She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, she'd regained her calm. Looks like she was the type to take everything in stride. Adaptable.

She then shifted her gaze towards Harry. "So you're also a Servant then? I was wondering why you were here. Are you Caster, or maybe Rider? You don't seem to be stealthy enough to be Assassin. And Berserker is out of the question"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I just appeared out of a 'magic circle.'"

Rin narrowed her eyes. "Two Servants appearing out of the same magic circle? Unheard of."

"He's telling the truth," Saber said. "As much as I doubt it, I was there when it happened. One moment there was nothing, the next he was there. The only way for him to appear without me or Lancer sensing him is if he was summoned. Added to the fact that Shirou has 2 sets of Command Seals, and the conclusion is clear."

"What are Command Seals anyways?" Shirou asked, looking at the red runes on his hands. Harry also focused his gaze. This was something that he too wanted to know.

Rin shifted her gaze back at him. "They mark you as a Master. They're also spells that control your Servant. So as long as you have them, you can keep your Servant under control."

"What do you mean by 'as long as you have them?'" Shirou asked.

Rin clasped her wrist. "Command Seals are inviolable orders-"

Wait. "Hold up. Inviolable?" Harry interrupted.

"Yes. They force a Servant, that is to say, you, to obey, even if it means bending you to your Master's will."

Harry stiffened. It sounded suspiciously like the Imperious Curse. He looked at Shirou warily.

Shirou noticed. "Hey! I'm not going to do that to you."

Harry ignored him. The pain in his head was getting to an intolerable magnitude. He addressed Rin.

"Are there any methods known to disobey one?"

Rin shook her head. "Nope. A Master only gets 3 inviolable orders though."

Harry examined the runes on Shirou's hands. He should be able to disable them easily enough. Perhaps a tri-pronged nullifying orb combined with a demolish rune? Worst comes to worst, he can always just cut of Shirou's hands.

"Shirou Emiya," Harry used Shirou's full name to convey the seriousness of the situation. "If you ever order me to harm an innocent, then I will not hesitate to kill you before the first word passes your lips."

Shirou looked insulted. "I would never!"

"Good."

Rin watched the two of them pensively. "Back to Command Seals. Shirou, if you use all of them up, then you'll probably die."

Shirou jerked back. "What?"

"That's right. The Holy Grail War is based around Masters defeating other Masters. The Master who defeats the other six wins the Holy Grail, which can grant any wish."

What? The Holy Grail can do what now? This piece of information was enough to startle Harry out of his lethargic state, but only for a moment.

"Hey, hold on a second. What do you mean by the Holy Grail?" Shirou demanded.

"Long story short, you've been dragged into a ritual. One called the Holy Grail War, fought by seven Masters. A battle to the death between mages."

That sounded very similar to the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament. Minus the battle to the death part, of course.

"Come on, do you expect me to believe any of this?" Shirou asked desperately, hoping it was just a joke.

"Do not underestimate wizards," Harry spoke up again, "Their perception of what is allowed isn't exactly normal. She's telling the truth."

At least, he thinks she is. He wasn't going to be like Dumbledore and dive into her head with Legilimency, though. That was one thing he'd never agreed on with Dumbledore.

The mind is a palace that deserves privacy. Harry didn't have any right to violate it. Unless he was in a life-and-death situation. Even then, it must pass all of Harry's moral tests before he'll actually do it.

Huh. Perhaps Voldemort had scarred him more than he thought.

"Indeed," Rin said. "Besides, it should be clear to you. You've been nearly killed by a Servant not once, but twice."

Harry noted the bloodstain over Shirou's heart. It appeared he'd met someone with luck just as bad as his.

"I'm another mage chosen to be a Master," Rin continued. "Think of your Servant as a familiar that'd help you survive through the Holy Grail War. Servants, in your case."

Familiar? Was that supposed to be an insult? According to Harry's knowledge, which was a pretty large amount, familiars were just animals that'd formed a bond with a human. They gained human-like intelligence as well as a few magical abilities, but that was it.

Harry had never had a familiar though. His. . . condition meant that no animal would want to get close enough to him to bond with him. He knew Dumbledore had a familiar bond with Fawkes, the phoenix. What he would give to have Fawkes next to him right now, singing his song.

His vision was getting blurrier. He should probably lie down or something. He got out of his kneeled position, and sat down cross-legged, elbow resting on his knee, hand propping up his head. There. That's better.

Rin, Saber, and Shirou looked at him curiously. Then they focused back on Rin.

"Familiar? They don't seem like familiars to me." Shirou said. Thank you. At least one of them made sense.

"You're right. Servants are technically familiars, but they're superhuman beings, heroes from the past."

Harry's blood froze to ice. His vision sharpened at once as he pumped the last vestiges of power through his body. The past? Just how long was he inside the nonbeing realm?

Unaware of his inner turmoil, Rin continued. "Servants are heroes from the legends, pulled from the past or present into our time and given form."

Heroes of legends? Well, Harry supposed he'd qualify. But the Lancer dude hadn't recognized his name. Which means that he wasn't famous after his death? Harry wasn't sure how to feel about that. On one hand, he disliked fame and popularity, as it came with many negative drawbacks. On the other hand, he would like to be remembered more than a single paragraph in a history book. Half a chapter, at the very least.

Unless his life wasn't interesting enough? No way. It had to be fascinating. In fact, Harry was sure that if someone had documented his lives into, say, 7 books, and sold them, it'd become the most popular book series in the world.

Which could only mean that he was probably still in the present.

"It's the Master's role to summon the Servants, who are then manifested into Reality by the Holy Grail. Servants are basically always with you when they're in spirit form, who you can then materialize when there's a need to fight."

Oh. So that's what happened to the Archer guy. Harry knew of the spirit form, but he'd never really researched it that deeply after he discovered Fading. It requires great skill and power, far more than Apparition or even using a Portkey, which is why it fell out of fashion.

Shirou seemed to have come to the same conclusion. "That's how Archer did it."

Rin hummed in confirmation. "I'm having him on sentry duty for the time being. So, do you understand everything so far?"

"I understand your words. Your ideas? Far less." Shirou said.

"I have questions," Harry said. It was less of a request and more a fact. They all turned to face Harry.

"Yes?" Rin said.

"First of all, what year is it?"

"2004."

Same year then. Thank Merlin.

"Do you know of the name Harry Potter?"

"No."

Harry deflated at that. He wasn't expecting anything, really. But it seemed as if everyone knew who he was. Whether it was for surviving the Killing Curse, defeating Lord Voldemort, or obliterating the Demonic Tribes, people had at least heard of his name.

The fact that she didn't unsettled Harry. Was this even the same world he'd left?

"How many days in a year?"

Rin tilted her head at the odd question. "365. Didn't you use the Gregorian calendar when you were alive?"

"I did. Do you have a Floo fireplace that I can use to connect to the British Ministry of Magic? Or even the International Confederation of Wizards?"

"What are those?"

So she didn't know. From the blank looks on Shirou's and Saber's faces, they didn't know either.

Was he really in another world?

It was possible. Dimension-travel cases, while practically unheard of, existed. Of course, everyone was dead on arrival in those cases. So how had he- Oh.

That's right. His unique soul.

If he'd been inside nonbeing, which theoretically could be connected to an infinite amount of worlds, since nonbeing is the same in every world, then he could have been transported to another world. And this magic circle. . .

From the sounds of it, it seemed to defy both space and time. Time in which it summoned a hero of old, and space when you considered just where the dead souls were. So a crack in Reality, then. A crack that Harry had exploited when he was in nonbeing.

That was why every other dimensional traveller had died. They weren't able to survive prolonged exposure to nonbeing. In fact, they probably couldn't survive any exposure to nonbeing at all. Their soul was crushed, and when they fell through a crack, the world gave them a body but it had no soul to power life.

Unlike with Dementors, if a human born has no soul to begin with, then he's going to die unless powered by magic. Sucking the soul out of a human that already had a soul would only. . . reset them, so to speak, not outright kill them.

Harry could survive nonbeing, however, and with no anchor left to bring him back to his own Reality, he'd forced himself through a crack into another one. That explained why nobody knew of him, as well as the stars' weird positions in the sky.

After all, when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.

. . . did he just quote Sherlock?

"Nevermind. I understand now. Just to be clear, Shirou, did you summon me on purpose?" Harry continued his questioning.

Shirou looked startled that the question had been directed at him.

"N-no. I didn't. I don't know how I summoned either of you, actually."

So he hadn't took control of them on purpose. That was good, he supposed. He could've had a Master that wanted to be a God-King.

Rin set down her cup. "Yes, well, for a more detailed explanation of the Holy Grail War, talk to the man overseeing the War."

A man overseeing a War? Was he like Dumbledore, then? Already, Harry had envisioned an old man with a long white beard badly dressed in eye-searing colors offering candy with a strategic map behind him.

"All I can tell you is that you have no choice but to fight, and your Servants are powerful entities that you should use well."

A War where the fighters had no choice whether or not to participate? Harry didn't like the sound of that.

"Now then," Rin said to Saber, sipping the last of her tea from the cup before setting it down and refilling it with a kettle on the table. "From what Emiya had said, you're in an incomplete state?"

"Yes. As you say, I am not at my full fighting strength," Saber confirmed.

"And you?"

"I'm not either, though I don't think that's Shirou's fault. It's just that. . . well, there were extenuating circumstances at play. It's not that bad though." Harry understated. In truth, everything hurt really, really bad. He could barely keep his eyes open. The previous surge of power had left him feeling drained and tired.

"Shirou is not a fully-trained mage, so replenishing my mana would likely be difficult for him." Saber inferred.

Replenishing mana? Harry assessed his magic levels. While his magic was weakened, it was still refilling at a steady rate. Nothing a full night's sleep wouldn't rectify. Sleep. That sounded good. But he had to stay awake for all the information he can get.

"That's shocking," Rin said. "Servants get the mana they need to remain from their Master. But since you're a frankly terrible magus who can't even manage the most basic spells, this is going to become a problem soon. Especially considering you have 2 Servants drawing on your mana."

Drawing on Shirou's mana? Remaining in Reality from the mana supplied from Shirou? Harry was dead tired, but he was still able to sense that beyond the Command Seal, nothing else linked him to Shirou. There was no flow of magic, nothing.

"Although I have to admit, I didn't expect you to be so upfront with me." Rin said to Saber.

"You had already realized that something was wrong. There was no point in hiding the obvious. In which case, the best course of action was to let both Harry and Shirou to know what was wrong, so that we can address the problem sooner than later. If it meant letting an enemy know, so be it." Saber replied.

Rin raised her cup of tea. "I see, so you're a woman of outstanding character then. Logical and smart, too." She took a sip. Then she slammed the cup down onto the table, the steaming liquid getting onto the table.

"Damnit! What a waste!" she mourned. "If I was Saber's Master, then this War would be already won."

Harry took back what he'd thought about her being able to take everything in stride. She was just putting on a mask, it seems.

She then turned over to look at Harry. "Don't tell me. You're probably an overpowered mage too, right?"

Shirou brightened. "Oh yeah. Lancer had said something about you knowing True Magic. What did he mean by that? It looked really cool when you did it."

Saber looked at Shirou as if he was stupid.

"Why tell an enemy-"

She was cut off by Rin's gasp. Her face had paled dramatically. "Y-y-you know True Magic?"

That wasn't a reaction that Harry was expecting. Was Apparition really that rare here?

"If by True Magic you mean teleportation, then yes."

Rin grabbed her head and turned around. "A sorcerer too? That's not fair." she whined.

Shirou felt as if he should be insulted. "Hold on. Are you saying that I don't deserve to be Harry and Saber's Master?"

Rin's reply was immediate and curt. "Of course I am, you third-rate mage."

Well, Harry couldn't exactly argue with that. Not even being able to use the repair charm at such an old age did point out detriments in Shirou's magical education.

Wait. He was in a different world. That's right. Things were different here. New terminology, new customs, maybe new magic altogether.

"Now then," Rin stood up, "Shall we go?"

Shirou blinked. "Go where?"

"To see the man who knows everything there is to know about the Grail War."

"This late though?" Shirou asked. Harry was confused. Had he never pulled an all-nighter to research a spell before? It was only around 2 in the morning. To be fair, Harry didn't want to go either. His head was pounding really hard, and he could barely see through the black fuzz in his vision.

"Well, if you don't want to go, that's fine. What about you, Saber? Harry?"

"Wait, don't bring them into this. Don't try to strong-arm them." Shirou protested, standing up and waving his hands back, as if protecting Saber and Harry from Rin.

Rin was taken aback before giving a devious smile. "Oh? So you don't want me talking to Saber then? You're acting like a true Master, I see. Is that jealousy I detect?"

Shirou blushed. "I-it's not like that."

Harry wholeheartedly agreed. He wasn't gay, damnit. He liked girls, and only girls. Thankfully, Rin hadn't implied anything going on between Harry and Shirou. Harry shivered as he thought about some of his fangirls back home.

Even worse: his yaoi fangirls. Harry liked Dumbledore, yes, but not that way. Harry quickly repressed those thoughts.

"Besides, you said that Harry and Saber are heroes of the old, right? So they won't make much sense of the modern world." Shirou forged on with a blush on his face, trying to salvage the situation.

"Incorrect, Shirou," Saber spoke up from behind him. "Servants adapt to whatever time period and location they find themselves in. It is why Harry and I know Japanese, even though we've likely never stepped a foot in Japan before. I am well-versed in this time period. Doubly so, because I've been summoned here before."

"No way. What are the odds?" Rin breathed. She turned to Harry. "Let me guess, it's the same for you?"

Harry frowned. "Before we continue, let's clear up some misunderstandings. I am not a Hero from the past. I live in this time period. I am familiar with the modern world, not because of the Holy Grail, but because I live in it. And I had been since 1981."

Rin's jaw dropped. Not much, but enough to be noticeable. "You're only 23 years old? Wait, you said that you 'live' in this time period. Have you even died yet?"

"I did undergo something similar to death recently. Wait. I did died before, but I got better." Harry said, thinking back on his time spent in nonbeing as well as his resurrection in the Final Battle.

"Resurrection? Well, you do know True Magic, so it isn't that much of a stretch." Rin mused. Then she blinked. "That's impossible. The Holy Grail can't summon someone who's alive."

Harry leaned forward. "That's the thing. I don't think I was summoned. I mentioned undergoing something similar to death, and the only way for me to escape was to exit through a small crack. That crack was the magic circle. I think that the magic circle had momentarily weakened the structures of Reality, letting me squeeze through."

"That's. . . that actually makes some sense. So you were given the knowledge of the language as well as the 3 Command Seals because that's what the Holy Grail does when creating your new body. But how did it create your body if you hadn't died yet?" Rin pondered.

"I was willing my atoms to return to me with my magic. Perhaps the Holy Grail read my broadcasted magic, and duplicated the effect?"

"Yes, that might work. I've never heard of a case like that before though, so I can't confirm. Wait. Do you even feel a mana connection to Shirou then? If you hadn't died, then you should still be able to draw mana from your surroundings."

"I can. I don't feel a connection between Shirou and I, besides the Command Seals. However, I admit that I don't know anything about the Holy Grail or magic circles, so I cannot be certain of how this actually happened."

Speaking of which, Rin had said that the magic circles summoned heroes from legends. Harry stared intensely at Saber. Who was she then?

Saber noticed his gaze immediately, turning to look at him. When Harry didn't avert his eyes, she blushed a bit. "What is it?"

"Oh, my apologies. I'm only trying to figure out who you are. Rin said that you're a hero from a legend, right? Are you Atalanta?" Harry ran through all the myths and legends in his head, but blonde women weren't exactly remembered in history very often.

"No!" Saber shouted. That was a strong reaction. "Ahem. I apologize for that outburst. No, I am not Atalanta."

"Who are you then?" Shirou asked, now also looking at Saber.

She hesitated. "Normally, Servants would tell their Masters their true identity so that they can plan with each other's full power in mind. However. . ."

"Let me guess," Rin said, "Since Shirou is only a third-rate magus, he can't defend his mind very well. People could read his thoughts and discern your true identity."

Saber nodded, a downcast expression on her face. "Shirou, you have to understand that it's imperative to keep my identity a secret, because if people know my true identity, then they can create plans to defeat me. You cannot keep a secret through no fault of your own. As such, I cannot tell you who I am. I'm not like Harry, who nobody has ever heard of before."

Ok then. Harry wasn't even mad. She was right, after all. There was no Harry Potter in this world.

He pitied this world.

Saber then looked back up with a determined expression on her face. "However, even though I cannot tell you my true identity, I hope that it will not come in between our Master-Servant bond. I will still fight to my fullest to defend you. I am your blade that will follow your every command."

Shirou turned red again. Harry couldn't blame him. While Saber's intentions were honorable and even admirable, her words carried some. . . unintentional hidden meanings behind them.

"Now that's the spirit," Rin clapped her hands together, an innocent smile on her face. "Shall we go now?"

Saber stood up. Even that simple motion was performed gracefully. "Yes. Where will we be going?"

"To the church in New City." Rin said.

Harry wanted to go, he really did. He needed more information. But he was reaching the end of his ropes. He was already past running on fumes.

"About that. I'm sorry, but remember how I recently underwent something similar to death?" Harry brought up.

Rin, Saber, and Shirou all stared at him on the ground. This time, they actually looked closely, past Harry's healthy surface and into his true state of matter. He was sweating hard. His skin was rosy, but it seemed artificial. His eyes were bloodshot and somewhat shell-shocked. His entire body was trembling, almost imperceptibly. Even though on the surface he appeared healthy, when they actually examined him closely. . .

"You look terrible," Saber said, a tiny bit of shock in her voice.

"No, she's serious. You look healthy, but it's as if you're dying from the inside out." Rin agreed.

"Are you okay?" It was Shirou who asked this question.

Harry mentally facepalmed. The guy with a bloodstain over his heart was asking if he was okay. He appreciated the sentiment though.

"Yeah, I should be fine. I just need to rest a bit. You guys go on ahead to the church. Fill me in later, okay?"

And Harry gave one last smile, vision nearly entirely black and pain stabbing deep in his head.

He used the last of his energy to cast some protective enchantments around him. There was no such thing as being too paranoid, after all.

Then, once he was certain he'd be safe, he passed out, blissfully entering sleep.

And here it is. The first chapter of my first fanfiction.

This Harry Potter is from an AU universe, because JK Rowling nerfed her characters massively in canon.

I mean, a 70 year old genius dark lord being killed by a simple second year spell performed by a third rate wizard? No way that's fair.

Instantaneous teleportation, that is, traveling from point A to point B without spending the time or crossing the distance to get there, is considered True Magic: Pure Spatial Transference. This is different from Spatial Transportation, which is what Caster and Command Seals use; there's clearly a slight delay.

So please, review and tell me what you think :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Fate/Stay Night or Harry Potter