Chapter Text
01
Lord Voldemort
“An omnipotent wish-granting device（the Holy Grail）*, you say...”
The Dark Lord lounged in the chair at the head of the table, his long, pale fingers, thin as spider legs, idly toying with an ancient book.
“Precisely.” A hooded figure spoke from within the shadows. Swathed head to toe with not a seam left showing, he would have been indistinguishable from the darkness itself if not for his voice.
The Dark Lord said nothing, riffling the pages at hand, his face betraying nothing.
The silence pressed like a volcano about to erupt, smothering every breath. Among the Death Eaters present, some began to shift uneasily; cold sweat soaked their robes.
At last, the Dark Lord raised his head and flicked a hand. “Leave us.”
As if granted pardon, the Death Eaters filed out in haste. Severus Snape, the last to step through the door, cast a long look back into the hall and shut the door behind him.
When the sounds outside had faded, the Dark Lord turned to the black-clad man again. “And you tell me this because…?”
“Because we are convinced that you, Dark Lord, are the rightful victor of the war that has yet to come. But the road of fate is merciless; there are too many variables even someone as mighty as you cannot always command… We hope that the victory of such a smaller conflict may secure and glorify your radiant, eternal triumph.” The man’s tone was humble without servility.
“The omnipotent wish-granting device… Perhaps you do not know me very well. Lord Voldemort has found that placing one’s desires upon anything outside oneself is… unreliable. Your goodwill is received by the Dark Lord, but I’m afraid the answer is… no.”
“Ah, forgive my negligence. In truth, the Grail’s role is not limited to a wish-granting vessel; or rather, that is only the pretext to draw participants into a Holy Grail War. Beyond what this volume records, my family holds another tradition, namely, that the system of the Holy Grail War was constructed to realize the Third Magic.”
The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes, indicating for him to continue.
“Within the rules of the Grail, the power called the Third Magic is the materialisation of the soul--true, complete immortality, wrought by Magic/miracle.”
“Oh?” The Dark Lord tilted his head, interest evidently piqued.
Severus Snape
“Master, you summoned me?” Snape obediently half-knelt beside Voldemort’s chair.
“Ah, Severus.” Voldemort ceased drumming the cover of the book. “I want you to take this back and study it closely. Verify its credibility.”
“Forgive my impertinence, but… do you truly believe the man’s words? He wouldn’t even show his face.”
“I admit I had my reservations. But what they offered is tempting enough. Which is why you--my loyal friend--are so very important.” Voldemort gave an airy wave of his hand, his voice soft. “Naturally, I shall make my own inquiries. Since this war is bound to unfold as time turns, if it proves sound, it will do us no harm to take part.”
Something else to make this monster stronger?
“Yes, my Lord.” Snape tamped down the faint surge of panic in his chest and kept his face impassive.
He picked up the ancient volume, more precisely, a copy of it, and deliberately affected a moment’s hesitation.
“My Lord, regarding this… Holy Grail War--when reporting to the Order of the Phoenix, am I to inform Dumbledore’s side?”
“What do you think, Severus?” Voldemort smiled without a trace of kindness.
“Your judgement is correct,” Dumbledore said as he leafed through the book. “Tom’s arrogance…”
“So this so-called Holy Grail War, do you think it’s real?”
“Hard to say…” Dumbledore raised his hand to forestall Snape’s immediate protest. “My young friend, you know as well as I how fragmentary and unreliable the records of our world are. Even if a Holy Grail War did truly take place six centuries ago, there would be no way for us to know.”
“So you think it is real?”
“I’m inclined to give it the benefit of doubt, until we can thoroughly disprove it.” Dumbledore paused. “I take it this means Tom intends to join the contest?”
Snape nodded. “He seemed intrigued. But after the meeting, they were alone for a time. I don’t know what was said.”
“No matter. You’ve done all you could.”
“Are you going to participate as well?” Snape’s tone sharpened.
Following Snape’s gaze, Dumbledore looked at his blackened hand. Catching the veiled concern, he smiled. “With such a good battlefield laid before us, I fear we’ve little choice. Whether the power of a ‘omnipotent wish-granting device/Holy Grail’ is true or not, we cannot let it fall into Voldemort’s hands. I think we must urgently call a gathering of our friends.”
Harry Potter
“According to the book, to take part in a Holy Grail War we need a magic-infused liquid to draw the summoning array, and then a specific incantation to call forth…” Hermione stopped reading. “Harry, are you all right?”
Harry scratched at the back of his right hand, irritable. It had been itching these past two days. “I’m fine.”
“Is that old toad’s scar still not healed?” Ron asked, disgruntled.
“Maybe.” Harry shot an impatient glance at the “I must not tell lies” carved there. “Go on, Hermione.”
“Hang on,” Ron cut in before Hermione could start again. “So you’re sure you’re going to enter? This ‘Holy Grail War’?”
“That’s what Dumbledore plans. He believes the Prophecy may be fulfilled within this war, and my joining will inevitably draw Voldemort’s fire and make his actions more predictable. Besides, if I don’t… they won’t have the manpower to protect me.” On that last sentence Harry grimaced as if he’d swallowed something foul. He didn’t like the notion of needing to be closely guarded. Not one bit.
“I agree. The book says that heroes whose great deeds remained as legends after death, who become objects of faith, go to the Throne of Heroes beyond the World, and become Heroic Spirits. The Grail… will summon these powerful spirits as Servants, and the summoner becomes their Master. What could be more reliable as protection?”
“Doesn’t it say there are seven participants? If we could take six of the slots…” Ron began to daydream.
“There are seven Masters, each with a Servant of a different Class--Saber, Archer, Lancer, Rider, Caster, Assassin, and Berserker. But I doubt we’ll be that lucky, will we, Harry?” Hermione, the authority on all things bookish, corrected Ron as she went.
“Dumbledore does want more people involved. It’s just…” Harry pulled a face.
“…Wait, it’s not what I’m thinking, is it?” Ron’s smile died as if he’d swallowed a fly.
Harry nodded, looking cross. “They picked Snape as the top candidate aside from me.”
“Dumbledore isn’t going in himself?” Hermione asked.
Harry shook his head. “He seems to be having some trouble with his health.”
Hermione nodded knowingly, thinking of Dumbledore’s hand.
“They’re gathering the materials for the summoning now, especially, er--what was it called? Relics…”
“Catalysts. Items connected to the Heroic Spirit in life. They help a Master call forth a more specific Servant--in a sense, a stronger Servant of the summoner’s choosing. That’s what the book says,” Hermione put in brightly.
“That’s the one. They’re also negotiating with the Ministry, since it’s obvious the Holy Grail War won’t leave the outside world untouched. That’s what they told me.”
“Can’t wait to see what they’ve found for you! I’m sure it’ll be some monstrously powerful famous bloke!” Ron grew excited again, mentally listing the few historical figures he could remember.
Hermione smiled, shook her head, and went back to reading.
Merlin
An old man with hair and beard white as snow jolted awake, drenched in sweat.
The Sidhe king fluttered his wings lazily and yawned, bored. “Awake at last, are you? I never knew you still needed sleep, Emrys.”
“Nor did I.” The old man sounded dazed, not yet free of the dream’s grip. “I dreamed… I dreamed…”
“Mhm. Do tell me your dreary dreams, seeing as your life has nothing else worth speaking of.”
“I think it was a sign.” He ignored the jab and pressed on.
“But you’re no Seer*.”
“True. My visions tend to be of things that are happening, or about to happen at once.” He fell into thought. “Arthur is no longer here, in Avalon. Do you think this could be…?” He lifted his head sharply, seeking his friend’s counsel.
The Sidhe king shrugged. “Who knows? Go and take a look yourself. Go to the Crystal Cave/the source of magic.”
Emboldened, the old man rose at once and moved to leave.
With each step, his appearance grew younger, settling at last into that of a tall, lean youth.
“Merlin.” Just as he was about to pass through the curtain of light, the Sidhe king called after him.
“This side of the world was dying, has been.” He paused meaningfully. “You feel it too, don’t you? Perhaps the oldest prophecy is at last to come to pass.”
“Forget not--you are son of the earth, the sea, the sky.”
The youth looked back long and deep at his friend, then nodded gravely.
The birthplace of magic/the Crystal Cave was as pure and hallowed as it had been a millennium ago, but the visions within the crystals were filled with the darkness of smoke, flame, and blood.
Unlike Camlann, this was true ruin--the destruction of the world --no, more than that, the absolute collapse of humankind across the whole cosmos, past to future.
The youth’s lips trembled. With a wave he brushed the visions away. It was exactly the same as in his dream.
He was no Seer. If he had indeed been granted the gift of clairvoyance, then it looked not to the future, but this…
He felt the crystals thrill with joy at recognising one of their own. At the same time, there was a tugging, a faint sensation, as if they were trying to tell him something.
They wanted him to act. They were speaking to him, to nature’s and magic’s most beloved child, of their wish. They spoke, but the communion was too indirect; he could not read their meaning.
So he turned to the crystals* again. Perhaps more fragments would help him understand the earth’s intent.
Lord Voldemort
A roar reverberated in the empty cavern. Beneath the water, the Inferi grew agitated in response to his fury.
At last, he calmed.
The false locket had warped under the onslaught of rage. He tossed it into the water, provoking another stir among the Inferi.
Then he turned and left.
Severus Snape
“My Lord.”
Voldemort lifted his head from his thoughts. “Ah, Severus. Come, stand at my side.”
Snape obediently approached and noticed what Voldemort’s fingers were caressing: a nondescript splinter of wood.
Catching his gaze, Voldemort set the fragment on the table and laced his long fingers together.
“I take it the Order of the Phoenix has begun searching for catalysts.”
“They have. Dumbledore hopes to secure the strongest Servant for Potter.”
Voldemort gave a soft, derisive laugh. “As expected. As if a single Servant’s strength could interpose itself against a predetermined fate. Now, Lord Voldemort has summoned you for something else…”
“Concerning a catalyst, my Lord? Forgive me.” Snape ventured.
Voldemort merely raised a hand to forestall him. “I assume Dumbledore has not yet found a catalyst for your summoning.”
Finding his answer on Snape’s face, Voldemort nudged the wood forward and continued, “This is a fragment from the deck of Skíðblaðnir.*”
“The divine ship.” Snape sucked in a breath. If Voldemort were to gain support from a deity…
“So you know what it is.” Voldemort nodded, satisfied. “I want you to use this as your catalyst--”
Snape looked up in disbelief, but Voldemort cut him off again.
“In exchange, I believe Dumbledore… holds something that belongs to me.” Voldemort all but hissed the words through his teeth.
He knows.
Snape smothered the tremor in his heart and arranged bewilderment and fear on his face.
“He told you… He did not… No matter.” Voldemort watched him with interest. “In return, I want you to ask him for a ring, under the pretext of needing a catalyst.”
In an instant Snape thought of a black-stoned ring, and a charred hand.
“Ah. You’ve seen it.”
Damn!
Snape cursed his momentary slip.
“Good. Then go. The Dark Lord would have you make haste… he has little patience in this matter.”
“It seems the Holy Grail War has indeed disrupted many of our plans. But don’t worry, my friend; it has also brought us new opportunities.”
Snape paced Dumbledore’s office, still unconvinced.
Dumbledore soothed him amiably. “Do not fret. I doubt Tom truly suspects you. He’s merely negotiating with me, through you.”
“So we really are to return the ring? If its power should ultimately aid him--”
“Relax, Severus. The ring cannot truly summon Death. It may not even have the connection to Death that rumour grants it. Voldemort doesn’t want it to summon a powerful Servant. No. As usual, his arrogance forbids him to rely on external power. I suspect his demand for the ring is due to similar reasons for his collecting the Founders’ legacies--an obsession with his own lineage. By contrast, this deck-plank…”
“It’s genuine?”
Dumbledore nodded. “I did sense ancient magic within it. It seems Tom’s travels have indeed yielded some rare curiosities.” His blue eyes sharpened. “Relinquishing such a treasure may prove a loss he’ll regret, and an unexpected gain for us.”
Dumbledore took out both the diary and the ring’s remains from a drawer.
Seeing Snape’s skepticism, he smiled. “We know all we need to know. Since he’s discovered the matter, there’s no harm in returning them. After all, he has offered us such an excellent gift.”
Snape opened his mouth to say more when a commotion sounded outside.
He swiftly pocketed the items. A second later the door burst wide and Scrimgeour swept in with a clutch of Ministry officials.
“You’ve made your intent to distance yourself from the Ministry quite clear, but don’t you think your conduct in this matter has gone too far?” Like an angry lion, Scrimgeour dispensed with niceties and confronted him head-on.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Dumbledore replied mildly.
“To cut the Ministry out of the war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named altogether, as if you were the only heroic leader our world had, as if an elected government meant nothing to you! Were it not for the impact of this so-called Holy Grail War may pose, would you have told the Ministry nothing at all? What do you take us for, your clean-up crew? What’s next--setting up your own regime?”
“Believe me, dear friend, that was not my intent. But the Ministry seems to be doing little to prove its usefulness in other areas.”
“Your cloak-and-dagger mysticism plainly doesn’t help!”
“What would you have me do, Rufus?”
“Leave matters to those better suited--the Auror Office!”
“You’re welcome to proceed as you wish. In fact, I’ve done nothing to prevent the Ministry’s participation in the Holy Grail War. I must caution you, though--letting the wider public know will only breed chaos. In the face of desire, not everyone can resist the allure of an ‘omnipotent wish-granting device.’”
Scrimgeour snorted, then turned on his heel and left as abruptly as he’d come.
Dolores Umbridge
Standing behind the Minister, Dolores Umbridge spoke in her syrupy little-girl voice. “Minister, what are your plans, then? Perhaps, if I may be so bold as to recommend--”
Scrimgeour cut her off with a wave. “Dumbledore is irritating, but not entirely wrong. We must be cautious. I need the Auror Office convened at once for a detailed discussion. What has the Department of Mysteries learned from the ancient text?”
Another official beat her to the answer. Umbridge shot him an acid glare.
No matter. Even if the Minister dithered on this…
She could still take matters into her own hands. She knew what was best.
Yes, eventually they would all learn that she knew best.
Amos Diggory
“Hey, have you heard the rumours?”
Diggory lifted his head from the paperwork.
Since the death of the son he’d been so proud of, he had not been himself. Life had lost all colour. He was a walking corpse animated by his son’s memory, every moment steeped in recollections that seemed so limited, so little.
“What rumours?” he asked perfunctorily.
“The one going around the Ministry, the omnipotent wish-granting device. A Holy Grail War.”
Amos’s heart skipped a beat.
He kept his face blank. “What is that? Some new bedtime story for wizards?”
His colleague looked offended. “Hoh hoh hoh, very sharp-tongued. Of course not. I can vouch the intel is solid. You know I’ve a contact with the Unspeakables; he says they’re studying an ancient text… and it looks rather real. They’re already trying to clamp down on the rumours. Doesn’t that make it even likelier? Who doesn’t have one or two wishes of their own? If it were me…”
Bring him back. Bring Cedric back.
The thought put down roots in Amos’s mind, repeating like a curse he could not dispel.
Yes. If it were truly possible…
Morgan Faye
Morgan scrolled on her phone, anger clenching harder with every line her eyes devoured, pooling on her fingertips in harder jabs.
Day by day, her rage had long since curdled into hatred. And yet she had to admit she needed that man. To be forced to live under an enemy’s roof--
Oh, how she longed for a chance at vengeance. And how powerless she was.
“Morgan, are you sure we can do this here?”
Morgan looked up. Mordred’s gentle, considerate expression dispelled some of the dark feelings.
“It’s fine. He’s not likely to be back today.”
“If it’s too much trouble--”
“Morgan Saikou! If not for you, where would we even find a setting this perfect?” Will’s excited shout cut Mordred off.
By the tripod, Daegal and Gilli, fussing with the phone for the livestream, nodded in agreement.
The door swung open and Anna stepped in. Arching a brow at the scene, she tossed her voluminous blonde hair. “I’m quite certain we’re the Society for the Study of Magic and the Supernatural, not some anime club.”
“Ah, but Mystery is Mystery.” Will wagged a finger cheekily. “Look at our membership--practically the full cast of Arthurian legend. Why pass up any work related to the lore? Besides, we could use some attention. If our stream gets noticed at the Fes, at least recruitment next year will be easy. What’s not to like?”
Will elbowed Mordred. The latter looked up from the game’s daily drills, a little abashed. “Mo-chan is… kind of cool.” Lines from a certain Saber’s Noble Phantasm rang out of the phone.
Anna rolled her eyes without malice, and sat beside Morgan, lowering her voice so only the two of them could hear. “You all right?”
Morgan forced a small smile and paused the video of her foster father’s speech. “I’ll manage.”
“You know I’m with you, no matter what you decide.” Anna rubbed Morgan’s arm in comfort.
“I know.” Morgan smiled, then buried herself deep into Anna’s arms. “Thank you, Morgause.”
“Hey, Morgan, think you could read a few lines for us? After all, among all of us, your voice is the nicest.” Daegal spread out the mat printed with the summoning circle on the floor, scratching his face sheepishly.
“Of course.” Morgan rose gracefully to her feet.
Heroic Spirit Summoning
(not necessarily taking place at the same time)
Voldemort toyed with the ring returned to him, gazing thoughtfully at the circle drawn in unicorn blood before him.
Mad Enhancement*… is it? To hold a mindless beast firmly in one’s grasp--a powerful tool… interesting.
Inside the Room of Requirement, quite a number of “parents” who had suddenly come to visit the school gathered together.
Harry studied the half-rotten piece of wood in his hands. On the back of his right hand, a red mark was forming, not yet fully shaped.
“Trust Dumbledore to have found the remains of Merlin’s staff. With this, Harry is bound to win.” Molly exclaimed in awe.
On the other side of the room, Snape finished drawing the second circle with the last of the Felix Felicis.
Dumbledore met his eyes and gave a small nod.
Umbridge looked with some heartache at the gemstone solution spread across the floor.
No, this was worth it. When everything was over, she would have everything she deserved.
Amos Diggory set down the dead chicken in his hands and gave his wife a nod.
Merlin drew in a deep breath. The moonlight fell upon his hair, making him seem to shine with its glow.
Amos Diggory*
Fill. Fill. Fill. Fill. Fill.
Repeat every five times.
Simply, shatter once filled.
Harry Potter
I hereby declare.
Your body shall serve under me.
My fate shall be with your sword.
Dolores Umbridge
Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail.
If you will submit to this will and this reason, then answer!
Severus Snape
An oath shall be sworn here!
I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven.
I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell!
Lord Voldemort
Yet, thou serves with thine eyes clouded in chaos.
Thou, bound in the cage of madness.
I am he who command those chains.
Merlin
From the Seventh Heaven, clad in the three great words of power,
come forth from the circle of binding,
Morgan Faye
Guardian of the Scales!
Harry Potter
A blinding light burst from the circle. Time itself seemed to halt in that instant.
Harry held his breath without meaning to. And then he saw--
A scarlet cape floated without wind; clean mail shone with a pale silver light; hair like sunlight, golden; eyes as blue and bright as stars.
At his hip, a divine blade caught the firelight and lit the engraving upon it: cast me away.
With the bearing of a king, the man within the circle turned. Blue eyes locked upon green.
Then, through the shock fogging his mind, Harry heard the man’s voice, smiling:
“So, boy, I ask of you, are you my Master?”