But For a Sword (A Matou Shinji Series AU)
A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story
Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.
Summary: Sequel to But for a Stone. A year since Matou Shinji’s first introduction to the Wizarding World, Hogwarts finds itself in turmoil. With the disappearance of its Headmaster during the Winter Holiday, the venerable institution has been under a great deal of scrutiny, with its poor safety record and difficulties with retaining staff not only earning them pointed questions from the Ministry, but putting their status as one of only eleven schools of magic accredited by the International Confederation of Wizards in jeopardy. And on a more personal level, Matou Shinji discovers that regardless of what happens at Hogwarts, his beloved senpai, Tsuji Miyuki, may be leaving the school due to family circumstances. In a year full of intrigue, political shenanigans, excursions – and yes, more of Quirrell’s life lessons – what is a boy to do?
Chapter 1 Echoes of Home
After a year at Hogwarts, surrounded by young witches and wizards and all they got up to, not to mention listening to Selina’s tales of her adventures in Faerūn and the occasional contribution from Matou, whose hinted at the existence of a darker side to the world of magic, Amber Noel hadn’t thought that it would possible for Mahoutokoro to surprise her.
One school was much like another right?
But she’d been wrong.
The young noblewoman had been ready for the sight of a school and immaculately tended grounds, perhaps with a small town some ways away, much like Hogwarts and nearby Hogsmeade, which for all their mystique were rather subdued. Shops might sell magical merchandise, but there were never broomsticks in the skies, magic carpets laden with goods from distant lands, magical beasts flittering to and fro back in Britain.
Just a school and a town like any other.
Mahoutokoro wasn’t like that at all. Appearing as she had on a platform overlooking the city – and that it was a city, none could doubt – she’d been stunned by the fact that it was nestled in some vast underground cavern – a geofront, the boy sent to greet them had explained – with the air filled with tantalizing aromas, and obviously magical creatures and people going about their business, with a number passing through…portals of some kind to other places and times.
For a moment – five moments – perhaps something like a minute or more, she’d stood there, all but gaping as she took in the sight of a city of magic – something like Gauntlgrym at the height of its glory, according to her well-traveled friend in Slytherin.
‘Wow…’
“It is a little startling the first time you see it, hm?” someone had said – in perfect English, with Amber tearing herself away from the vista to see two people: an older girl whose delicate features, raven colored hair, and almond-colored eyes made her seem almost a sister to Miyuki, dressed in a midnight-blue kimono of some sort, embroidered with a pattern of falling stars, as well as a boy about their age dressed in something similar, only his hair was white, and his eyes…
…red as the sun at dawn.
It had been the boy who had spoken, Amber had realized, with the copper-haired girl blinking as she considered the implications of that, especially when the kimono-wearing girl introduced herself as
Tsuchimikado Hokuto, granddaughter to the head of the Japanese Council of Magic.
“And I am called Mitsune,” the white-haired boy had added with a slight bow. “Kaizuka Mitsune. At least by those who do not know me well.”
“Kaizuka…Mitsune?” Miyuki had echoed slowly, raising a slim eyebrow. “Written as ‘beautiful sound of mountain?’”
The boy had smiled at that.
“Yes. And you are Tsuji Miyuki, written as “beautiful snow-covered crossroad, accompanied by Suzuki Natsumi, written as ‘beautiful summer’?” he had questioned, with Miyuki nodding slightly. “And who might you be?” he’d asked, turning to Amber.
“I am Amber Noel, and my name is as written,” the young noblewoman had replied with a curtsy. “I’m afraid there’s no special meaning to my name,” she’d added, a bit self-deprecatingly.
“Nonsense, there is meaning to every name,” the boy had said. “Amber, after all, or Kohaku, in my native tongue, was first the fossilized resin of ancient trees. In Eastern cultures, is the soul of the tiger – the stone of courage, carried by travelers as protection on long journeys. Noel, of course, means Christmas, which in the West is a time of fellowship with friends and family,” Kaizuka Mitsune had summed up. “As such, your coming to this place in the company of friends can only mean good things for you all.”
The earl’s daughter had blushed at the boy’s words, as she had not expected such an analysis of her names, nor one delivered with such pretty turns of phrase.
“If I may,” Miyuki had spoken in the silence that followed, “Kaizuka-san, do any ever call you kitsune?”
“Yes, though only those who know me,” the boy had answered with a bow. “In any case, I come bearing gifts.”
And so he did, presenting an amulet of rare blue amber – all the way from the Dominican republic – to the girl who shared the stone’s name, an amulet of red stone edged with gold to Natsumi, and a book of some sort to Miyuki – something about Ofuda, Origami, and basic principles of Onmyoudou.
“May these serve you well,” Kaizuka had said, before allowing Tsuchimikado Hokuto to take the lead in showing the trio their quarters and explaining to them what each of them would be able to do that summer.
Given her interests, Miyuki had a number of things on her agenda as it was, including some potions masterclasses and one on one herbology work with a Sajyou Ayaka, whoever that was.
“We are not as certain of your interests, but there are some suggested activities for you and a stipend will be provided,” the Tsuchimikado heiress had stated in English slightly more accented than the boy’s had been. “There are certainly classes if wish to study and are proficient at Japanese, as well as athletic and cultural clubs that you may participate in, but other that, you are free to explore the city.” She paused. “Both the city below and Kyoto above, actually, though if you wish the latter, let someone know, so we can find an escort for you.”
“Because we’re not actually allowed everywhere?” Natsumi had questioned wryly.
“Because you may not be as familiar with the city, and it is always more interesting to have a native guide when exploring a new place, yes?”
“…point,” Natsumi had said, with the chestnut-haired girl bowing her head slightly. “You are also concerned about our Japanese, I take it?”
The Tsuchimikado heiress had nodded.
“I had not wished to say so directly, but you were born in the White Country, were you not?” the older girl asked them, something that seemed to annoy the Suzuki girl, a familiar gleam appearing in her eye as—
“Well, I certainly was,” Amber had quipped, with Natsumi deflating before anything could happen. “Thank you – I appreciate all of this. This chance to be here, to see a new world.”
“And we of Mahoutokoro look forward to hosting you, Miss Noel,” Kaizuka Mitsune had replied.
In the days since, Amber had wandered through much of Mahoutokoro, taking in the sights, the smells, the sounds – so different from the British Countryside where she’d grown up. The food was certainly different – far more flavorful than she was used to, with bread shops that sold buns and sandwiches full of all sorts of stuffings.
Red bean.
Curry.
Yakisoba.
Spaghetti.
Cutlets of deep-fried pork, breaded with panko crumbs.
And much more.
She’d never imagined that there could be so many variations on a simple sandwich, as she was used to a sandwich containing either thin slices of meat, mushrooms, cheese and pickles, or of course, cucumbers.
Beyond that, there were shops which specialized in curries, with rich, savory sauces that could be mixed with rice – a far different experience than dipping bread into sauce.
There were the noodle shops, where the dishes Matou often had – ramen, for one – could be found, also with toppings far more diverse than one could get at Hogwarts, in addition to all sorts of noodles not made of wheat. Udon, soba, and the like.
And of course, there were the shops that sold things besides foods.
Shops which sold wands and blades.
Shops which sold clothing of all varieties.
Shops which sold potions ingredients.
Shops which sold furniture, rugs, living tapestries.
Shops which sold antiques, with curios and relics not available anywhere else in the city.
And then there was the curiously named Asplund’s Shop of Horrors, whose name had given her a sense of nostalgia when she’d seen it, as it was the first hint of English she’d seen outside the conversation circles she was often invited to.
Inside, she’d found a staggering assortment of items that gleamed, those that groaned with age, and those that seemed to sit quiet, drinking in all the light around them.
Items of wood, of metal, of stone, and more curious things besides.
“Ah, a customer?” a voice had drawled, with Amber looking up to see what was apparently the shopkeeper, a bespectacled silver-haired man dressed all in white, whose clothes had a distinctly archaic cut to them, standing across the room from her. “A traveler from the West, no less,” he noted, his grey gaze drawn to the goblin-forged sword slung across her back. “You have the look of an…adventurer.”
“…I suppose that’s not far from the truth,” Amber had said with a polite curtsey. “I am a long way from home.”
“You and I both, Miss…”
“Noel,” the earl’s daughter had replied. “Amber Noel. Daughter of the Earl of Gainsborough.”
“Gainsborough you say?” the man had echoed, a flash of recognition flashing across his features almost too quickly for her to catch. “That is a name I have not heard since many, many years ago.”
“You know of it, then?” Amber had asked with a touch of surprise.
“More than most,” the proprietor had answered airily, though he said no more about how. “Are you looking for something in particular? Items of power for yourself? Gifts to take with you?”
“I…gifts,” Amber had replied with a touch of hesitation. “Though I only have so much to spend,” she’d added hurriedly, as it would have been quite rude of her not disclose this and have the shopkeeper waste his time by showing them something far too expensive.
The man had only chuckled then.
“Never fear, never fear – I never charge a price higher than someone can afford.”
To which Amber had only one question.
“…how do you stay in business then?” she’d wondered aloud. “Some of these items must be quite pricey indeed.”
Indeed, in one corner of the room, there was a display of very fine-looking rings, and against one wall, very fine-looking blades, some of which bore enchanted markings that glowed even to her eyes.
“Some of them, yes,” the man had admitted. “But there are prices far dearer than those paid in any coin of base metal, yet affordable all the same.”
“Like what?” Amber had inquired, intrigued even as the man bade her walk over to the case of swords.
“Memories. Concepts. Feelings,” the proprietor said offhandedly. He’d chuckled then, shaking his head. “Oh, and names, I suppose.”
“Names?” the young noblewoman had echoed. “Speaking of which, I never did get yours, did I?”
“You did not. These days I answer to Asplund, or Lloyd, after the coffee house I was fond of before I left Britain, though neither are the names I was born with,” the silver-haired man explained. “I traded it to one of the fey for a steed by which I might escape…those who wished me rather less success than I enjoy here.” He paused to reach down and unlock the heavily enchanted case with a bronze key, sliding it open so that she could see the blades within more closely.
“These are quite striking,” Amber had freely admitted, finding herself wondering just what else in terms of lethal hardware the man had in stock.
“Ah, these?” Asplund had echoed airily. “Yes, I suppose they might be.”
One – a black iron longsword one meter in length – apparently had a vampiric quality to it, as it drank the life and magic of those it struck deeply, using this to strengthen the wielder, if only temporarily.
“A life-stealing sword forged from meteoric iron,” the man had explained. “I found its name to be rather meaningless, really, given every sword can be used to steal lives, many for far less a cost than this blade imparts.”
Another was a golden-bladed rapier that shone like the first rays of the morning sun, whose touch was bane to inferi and other lesser undead.
“How was it made?” Amber had asked, her eyes lingering on the weapon. “Or, blessed, I suppose.”
“Not a word I tend to use,” Asplund had replied. “As to its construction, it was crafted using thaumaturgy, though its most basic component was an alloy of aluminum and magnesium, and a vial of sunlight.”
“A vial of…sunlight?” Amber had blinked at that. “You can do such a thing?”
“Heh, not I, but then I was never a Master of Creation. I was only Fes-ranked before I left, and then in a different department altogether,” the man said, with the earl’s daughter only having more questions. Not that she had much of a chance to ponder this, as Asplund continued to speak. “Would you like to hold it?” the man had asked, gesturing to her own weapon. “You seem like someone who would appreciate such a blade, and I do believe that it would like to be wielded.”
“I…I would be honored,” the young noblewoman had replied, nearly bowled over by the offer. “Is it really alright?” She frowned. “I don’t have to worry about curses or anything like that, do I?”
“Not at all. Not within the threshold of my shop, at least,” Asplund had said blandly. “A blood sacrifice some years ago saw to that.”
Amber, who just had just been reaching out for the blade, stilled in mid-motion.
“…did you just say blood sacrifice?” she’d echoed, looking up at the man’s inscrutable face as she wondered how dangerous the kindly shopkeeper might actually be. “Not…human, I hope?”
“Perhaps blood was the wrong word, as my aging steed was not a creature of flesh and blood but elemental water,” the proprieter had admitted. “Ah, Nightmare – I miss her sometimes, but all things die in the end, whether from disease, violence, or…age.”
“…you sacrificed your…horse?” Amber had asked, aghast at the thought. “How could you?”
“My Nightmare and I had been through many battles, many lands, and though she eventually carried me to these distant shores across the sea, she did not fare so well as I against the spirits of these island,” the man had explained. “You have seen only the City that is, born of the peace of the Maiden, not the time of strife that came before it.”
“The time of strife?”
“Something a lifetime ago,” the man had said, shaking his head. “In any case, water is a powerful element for cleansing and purification, and so with the willing sacrifice of the spirit I had called my partner, this place was created, which no curse could touch. And so some part of her remains, whereas before, there would have been naught.”
“Oh.” Amber had imagined something far darker when the man had spoken of blood sacrifice, not an old horse choosing to die with dignity for the sake of its partner. “I’m sorry, I…”
“It’s quite alright. I know what I am and what others think of me – a sociopath born with an empty heart,” the proprietor had said with something like the echo of a smile. “There is no need to spare my feelings.”
Despite his words, however, the man did not offer for her to try the blade again, instead closing the case and showing her a selection of daggers and shortswords, out of which one caught her eyes, as its blade seemed…warped, as if by fire.
“Ah, yes, this blade…”
“What’s so special about it?” Amber had found herself asking, with the man pausing to place the blade back in the case.
“Are you aware of what a tsukumogami is?” Asplund had asked in turn.
“No – what is it?”
“A tool that has acquired a spirit either with the passage of time, or from being exposed to enough experiences,” the man had explained. “One such spirit slumbers within this blade, though his personality is…warped.”
“Warped?”
“You know of the saying that one should be careful what one wishes for?” the proprietor had inquired, with Amber nodding. “Rather than mere time, he was born from a wish that came true. A son’s thirty-year wish for revenge on his father’s killer, fulfilled with the very blade the killer had stolen from his father.”
“What happened after that?”
“The man who took his revenge was appointed a retainer of the Lord of Kakegawa Castle, presenting the sword to his new Lord in gratitude. From then, it has passed through many hands, never used again, until at last it came into mine. The spirit still sleeps within, and born of a man’s wish for revenge and his joy of seeing this joy complete, knows little about the world.”
“Ah…”
They had moved on after that, before she left for the day, without making a purchase.
Natsumi was waiting to talk of her adventures with the dueling club, after all.
Still, as many other stores as there were, she’d found herself returning to Asplund’s Shop of Horrors at least once a week, with the proprietor greeting her amiably every time, showing her around, and telling her a little of the past.
Today, as summer was quickly drawing to an end, he was even showing her a wand from his private collection, one of the few items he had no intention of selling.
“One of the rarest wands in existence, I believe. Basilisk eye and petrified ironwood, if you’re curious,” the man said airily, as he retrieved a small case from a safe against the wall. With great care, he opened the lid to reveal an exquisite wand made of what looked like many-hued stone polished to a shine, etched with faintly glowing runes. “A true masterpiece, I think, though sadly, its genius isn’t particularly appreciated by modern magical societies.”
“Oh? Why not?” Amber asked, curious about why someone wouldn’t like such a beautiful instrument. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yes, well, apparently in this day and age, every spell having a chance to petrify living targets is a bug, not a feature,” the man shrugged, almost as if to say ‘what can you do.’ “It’s criminal, really, but I suppose that priorities change when you’re not at war.”
“Who made this? Ollivander?” the girl inquired, with the man snorting dismissively.
“No, the man…woman, actually, who I obtained this from is long dead, and her secrets with her,” Asplund related with a touch of melancholy. “She was only ever good at these sorts of strange things, though she refused to share the secret of them in life. Over my dead body, she’d always say.”
“That’s too bad,” Amber said sympathetically. “Now that she’s dead, I suppose we won’t see wands like these again.”
“Oh, death isn’t much of a barrier for knowledge for those who know how, but not everyone approves of necromancy these days..." the proprietor said with an almost wry smile. “Not that they were much better back then, which is why I’m no longer in Europe.”
The copper-haired girl blinked as she heard this, though there was something about his words that bothered her a bit
“You keep saying ‘these days,’” the young noblewoman noted. “When exactly did you come to Japan?”
“Oh, about a century and a half to two hundred years ago, perhaps a bit more,” the man replied breezily. “The exact date escapes me, but I believe it was just after the Association and the Church got tired of fighting that little war of theirs.” He snorted. “Officially, anyway.”
“The Association and the Church?” Amber echoed, never having heard those mentioned before. “The Church of England…or…?”
“No, something else,” the man replied, shaking his head. “If you haven’t heard of it, then perhaps it is not such a major power these days, despite its airs.”
He said no more about that, inquiring instead about the state of Wizarding Britain and Hogwarts, which he had apparently seen, but never attended, having studied much closer to London. Soon enough though, it was almost time for her to go, and Amber knew that she wouldn’t have many visits left to talk to the lonely seeming man.
And so she made a decision.
“I think I’d like to buy something,” she said at last, with the man’s eyes brightening slightly.
“The rapier, perhaps?” he asked silkily.
But Amber shook her head.
“The longsword, actually,” she corrected, a slight smile on her face. “It’s for my brother, who often is…in over his head.” She braced herself for whatever price he would name for the obviously enchanted blade. “How much.”
The sum he quoted was almost exactly how much money she had left from her stipend, reminding her that he never charged something that was more than someone could afford.
With a sigh, she agreed, handing over the pouch full of little orbs of condensed light, with the man throwing in a jet-black sheath intricately engraved with depictions of monster-slaying knights as well as a set of bridle and reins that apparently had been lasted used on the man’s steed, Nightmare, which allowed the rider to share a mount’s stamina, that he or she might not hunger nor thirst while on the road, and to borrow a bit of the mount’s strength at need.
“What will this cost me?” the girl questioned, somewhat suspicious of the man’s largesse, since as he said, nothing was ever simply given away – there was always some cost, all the more so when none was stated.
“Nothing, for the price has already been paid,” Asplund responded with a nod of his head. “In hours of conversation and by paying attention to an old man. In some ways you remind me of Lady Juliana, to whom I was once engaged.”
“Juliana…?” Amber echoed, the name sounding familiar somehow, even as she mentally thought through where she might have heard it before. Then it hit her – there was a Juliana she should know, because she’d seen it in her family tree. “You mean…Juliana Noel, the youngest daughter of the First Earl of Gainsbourgh?”
The unmarried daughter, her memory helpfully supplied.
“Yes,” the man admitted, with Amber blinking. “I see you know your history.”
“Some of it,” the earl’s daughter admitted. “A far cry from all.”
“The beginning of wisdom is the acceptance that one knows nothing, so they say,” Asplund said lightly. “Is there aught else you desire?”
The young noblewoman hesitated.
“Were you…were you of the peerage yourself?”
“I suppose if I had not had to flee, I would have been an earl,” the man answered readily. “Though I don’t imagine the earldom I would have inherited still exists.” Lloyd Asplund, or whoever he was, shrugged. “Such is the way of the world. Even if, on occasion, I do wonder…”
What he wondered, Amber would never know, as the man wouldn’t say.
Still, learning that even the wise – or mysterious – old shopkeeper might have some regrets moved her in some way. Perhaps he was not as unaffected by the past as he pretended, and if that was so…
“…there was one other item, actually,” the girl said softly, her mind returning to the story of the spirit slumbering in the fire-warped blade, born of a wish for revenge and never knowing anything more.
“Yes? Which one?”
“The tantou, I believe you called it?” Amber spoke, before her courage could fail. “Sayo Samonji, was that the name?”
“Ah, that item,” the man noted, closing his eyes for a moment. “It won’t come cheaply, you know, as it is not simply a weapon you purchase, but a life.”
“How much?”
“Your hair – all of it beyond what falls to your shoulders.”
“What.” Amber was shocked more than anything else, as she loved her hair, how it glowed brightly in the sun, shining like fire.
“A woman’s hair is her life, as they say in Japan, and so that is what I offer – a life for a life,” the old…Earl, she supposed, said, his expression somewhat distant. “Now then, Lady Amber,” he continued, addressing her as such for the first time, “Do we have a deal?”
“…we do.”
Choice 1: Back at the Beauxbatons ball, the presence of Gabrielle Delacour leading a pure white mule poses some questions for people, with Fleur Delacour herself emerging from the building where it was being held seeming relieved that Gabrielle had been found, given that she sometimes wandered off. Unlike her sister, however, Fleur quickly realized that the mule was not...quite strictly a mule.
"You ar' not a normal mule," she observed, noting how the mane seemed unusually wavy, and the eyes a slate grey, not the black of most equines. "Who are you?"
How does Shinji respond?
[ ] Shake his head - better it were left a mystery
[ ] Transform back into himself as an answer
[ ] Use his hooves to try and spell his name
[ ] (write-in)
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