Matou Shinji and the Philosopher's Stone

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: Ladies of Eternity, magi of the past hiding in the present, with ancient, nigh unfathomable crafts at their command. That is the destiny of a Witch in the Moonlit world, with the female child of a witch bearing the destiny of inheriting the blood and history of their line without any exceptions, upon which the mother will expire, her task done. But this is a story of a Witch's son – a boy tossed aside by destiny – a boy determined to become someone special, with blood, sweat, and wand. This is the story of Shinji Matou, and his newfound path in the Wizarding World.

Epilogue: Those Who Remain

He looked out into the darkness of the night sky as the world hurtled past, traces of civilization hidden by the evening gloom. After a year at Hogwarts, it was odd to once more be on a train, to know that soon, he would be returning to the place where his story had truly started.

What awaited him when he arrived?

Not cheers, not even sympathy, as no one there knew of his adventures, of the things he'd endured, of the things he'd lost. Perhaps if he was lucky he'd see one of his brothers in arms again this summer, but for the moment, everything that had happened at Hogwarts seemed a world away.

And why should it not, when Matou Shinji had been summoned to Mahoutokoro by a letter from the woman who had been his first real introduction to the moonlit world.

Aozaki Touko.

He wondered what she wanted, as the message itself had consisted of two words written on the back of a flyer for a Tanabata Festival in Kyoto – and one of those had been the older woman's last name.

The rest had been a single word: "Come."

So come he had, dressed in a fine yukata – a casual summer kimono - the color of his hair, as while he could attend a festival in street clothing, it would be just a bit gauche. And there was nothing Matou Shinji cared about more than his image.

Well, almost nothing.

It had been just over two weeks since he'd returned from Hogwarts to Fuyuki, paying his respects to the Second Owner, who'd seemed far more respectful – and perhaps a tad more formal – than the last time he'd seen her. She'd even invited him inside for tea, where the two had briefly exchanged a bit of information on what had happened in Fuyuki and what had happened abroad, with Shinji mentioning he had faced combat a few times that year, and for his deeds, had been inducted into a chivalric order.

None of the minor details, of course, since he didn't think Tohsaka needed to know such trivial things as the name of the order, the enemies he fought, or the exact circumstances involved.

And she didn't ask, knowing that to press too much was taboo for any magus.

She couldn't quite hide the curiosity in her eyes though – the questions she longed to ask about what the hell had happened to him in his year abroad, and what had become of the Matou Shinji she remembered. Neither could she hide a spark of envy that he'd been off having adventures out in the world – apparently making quite a name for himself as a practitioner of witchcraft – while she was in Fuyuki, where the only reason people deferred to her was because she was Second Owner.

Those that didn't – such as her guardian, that fake priest Kotomine Kirei – didn't seem to acknowledge her at all, as the man couldn't even seem to remember her favorite colors, having gotten her a set of clothing in blue and white. Though she was beginning to suspect it wasn't because he couldn't remember, as much as he was deliberately doing these things to goad her.

If only her father hadn't died in the Fourth War…

As the host, she had told him what had transpired in his absence, though she did mention that flaunting one's wealth in the form of presents was a bit tasteless. Not that she hadn't appreciated them, of course, but…

Shinji had nodded and said he would remember her preferences next time, something that made her a bit nervous for some reason – mainly because the thought that he had enough wealth for a next time was more than a bit mindboggling, and she still wasn't sure of his intentions. Not that she'd have the chance to find out at that meeting, since their conversation had moved to small talk – not much of substance – just the usual complaints about the school year, which had just begun in April.

They'd parted soon after, with Shinji promising to keep her informed, and Rin left wondering what had just happened.

She'd had a civil conversation…over tea…with Shinji. She'd actually been impressed by Matou Shinji.

…somehow, somewhere, she swore she could hear the master of the Second Magic laughing.

As for Shinji himself, the conversation reminded him of so many things he'd known in his mind but had half-forgotten – the school terms for instance, the first one starting in April and lasting until late July. And while the chance to sit down and have a proper cup of tea was certainly nice, the subdued tone of the encounter had just highlighted how different things really were.

In the coming days, the thought would come into his mind as he sat down for meals, enjoying the spices and tastes he'd grown up, but feeling a strange sense of distance with the people he'd once known. To a boy who'd spent a year adapting and learning how to function in Magical Britain, being back in Fuyuki often felt as if were stumbling through a fog, as if he had been looking upon his hometown from some high up place, and once part of the scene himself, found himself lost.

By this point, Matou Shinji was used to intrigue, excitement, conspiracy – and the way everything was subdued and hidden here didn't seem to fit.

It reminded him of one of the phases of the monomyth, which he'd read about in Joseph Campbell's The Hero with a Thousand Faces, which Hermione had sent him so he would have something to occupy himself with while he was in the hospital. Granted, he still thought her definition of light reading left something to be desired, but he'd appreciated it nonetheless, as it had been interesting, and a welcome distraction from counting pocks and nicks on the ceiling.

When the letter came, he'd rejoiced, even as he wondered what she wanted, or why she wanted him to come to Kyoto on the first day of Tanabata, given the deep symbolism of the seventh day of the seventh month – a day when one's deepest wishes could be granted, with the meeting of the weaver princess Orihime and the cowherd Hikoboshi serving as perhaps the most well-known example.

But come he had.

Soon enough, the train arrived at Kyoto station, with Shinji disembarking and looking around for the woman who'd summoned him, the magus he held as an example of everything a practitioner should be and sought to emulate.

This time, though, it was easy, since the train station was mostly packed with black-haired people in yukata, while his quarry was a redhead wearing a very Western ensemble of tight black pants, white shirt, and an orange trenchcoat, with an unlit cigarette held between her teeth.

"Matou Shinji," she greeted, turning towards him as he approached. Somehow, she had picked him out from the crowd, which did make the boy feel rather good about himself, as it meant she had not forgotten him. "How was your year at Hogwarts?"

Aozaki Touko, the one who had first shown him to Mahoutokoro – helped him acquire the various accessories and sundry of witchcraft – the one who had called him here.

"Aozaki-san," Shinji replied, giving her a deep, very respectful bow. Even with as much as he'd learned, he knew he was a very long way from ever being thought of as her equal – and he owed her much. "It was…eventful."

He didn't feel like saying more than that, not with the pain of loss still raw after several months.

It was hard for him to believe Sokaris was gone, as she'd always seemed more confident and put together than he was, even if she'd struggled at transfiguration and flying. And since he knew she was connected with the rest of the Moonlit World in some way – with a Dead Apostle Ancestor, no less! – he had thought she wouldn't simply vanish like that.

What had her goal been? He knew she had come looking for something, but what was it? Was it the Stone? Or was she looking for who she was?

The last was something Shinji could sympathize with even as he was shaping and finding out who he was, the work of reconciling expectation and reality never really quite finished.

"So I've heard," the redhead replied, critically eying the young practitioner of witchcraft over. "You've walked with death this year, worked on your craft, even befriended – and become a hero. How does it feel, Matou Shinji?"

How did it feel?

"Not as wonderful as I'd imagined," Shinji admitted with a deep sigh. "I thought I understood, but…" There were some things, like loss, that one had to experience to truly know, which outside observers wouldn't understand. "But you didn't call me here to ask about that, did you, Aozaki-san?"

The master puppeteer, Aozaki Touko, only laughed.

"You are perceptive, Matou," she said, hand moving briefly to light her cigarette. "I did not."

"…you're working for someone again."

Not the hardest conclusion to draw, given that she'd only guided him around Mahoutokoro because she'd been paid to do so. He just wondered who the client was this time, as he knew it wasn't Matou Zouken.

"Indeed," the magus answered, taking a long drag of nicotine. "Heads of the Three Great Branches usually find it inconvenient to communicate in writing with those of lower rank. It draws too much attention."

Shinji's mind slammed to a halt.

"What did you just say?" he asked, as something cold – fear maybe – shot through his veins.

"I don't believe you are deaf, Matou," came the cool reply.

But why…? How…?

"Which branch?"

He asked this nervously, his mouth rather dry as he wondered who might have actually taken note of him and why. From what he'd read, catching the attention of those who reigned high above other magi, such as the Master of the Second Magic, or the Queen of the Clock Tower, was rarely a good thing.

After all, that usually meant a Sealing Designation, with Enforcers shortly thereafter.

Or of course, as Zelretch was notorious for, the offer of an apprenticeship – usually driving any soul so unfortunate to renounce the world of magecraft forever, if that person lived long enough to do so.

More to the point, what could he have possibly done to get their attention? Why, the only artifact of note he'd encountered was…

Ah. That.

…the Philosopher's Stone.

Which would mean that the branch who wanted him for questioning was—

"Atlas Academy," Touko answered, raising an eyebrow. "Which is unusual in itself, given their focus is usually within."

—the very one he feared most, given his involvement with an alchemist. Atlas was the most unpredictable of the Three Branches, as it was effectively was a law unto itself, an entity that acted apart from the Clock Tower, with its own treaties and agreements. And why wouldn't it be, given that within it were sealed enough weapons and artifacts to end the world seven times over?

"I see," Shinji said, swallowing as he wondered what he should do. In all likelihood, running would do no good. And if the Head of one of the Three Great Branches had taken the time to go through Aozaki Touko – and she hadn't disabled him by now – it was probably safe to assume that she hadn't been hired to kill or capture him. "Where to, then?"

"Why, Mahoutokoro," the puppeteer replied, a thin smile on her lips as she sauntered off, with Matou Shinji following in her wake.

The city air seemed festive, with streamers and banners about, people dressed in yukatas and formal dresses, with fireworks blazing overhead. Here, a parade passed by. There, lanterns made of woven bamboo drifted on a river, with the sweet scent of incense wafting from them.

The very trees they walked by were decked with strips of paper on which people had written their wishes.

Here and there, the aromas of sizzling Takoyaki and other savoury treats drifted from ever popular festival stalls.

No one seemed to pay any heed as they walked along the now-familiar route to the great weeping Cherry Tree, where once again, Touko tapped a wand onto one of the tree's knots, the wood coming to life, with the tree shifting shape to become a portal.

As before, they stepped through it into the city time forgot – the geofront called Mahoutokoro – and flew.

Touko took them along a different path this time, towards one of the bridges of the underground city. He wondered why they weren't going to the city core, where he could see the lights and sounds of a celebration happening – Tanabata apparently being a big deal down below as it was above, but seeing a masked figure on the bridge, he thought he knew the answer.

This must be the representative Atlas had sent.

In the dark, the figure seemed like anyone else here for the festival, dressed in a yukata of midnight purple patterned with the faintest impression of red-violet leaves and held together with a golden obi. The figure's face too was covered by an almost avian mask, half porcelain, half gold, reminding him like nothing so much an owl.

"You have brought him," the figure said quietly – in perfect Japanese, if somewhat formal. She was apparently female from the sound of her voice. "I am grateful, Aozaki Touko."

"So long as payment is delivered, no thanks are necessary, Director," Touko replied, giving a slight nod of acknowledgement. "Would you like me to introduce you as well?"

"Indeed," the other spoke, with perhaps a hint of…was that amusement?

Shinji couldn't tell, as he couldn't see the other's face – though hearing the other's title of Director intimidated him beyond words, as any who rose to lead one of the Great Branches was likely on the level of a Dead Apostle Ancestor.

"Very well. If you wish, then so be," the puppeteer noted with a dry chuckle. She gestured from to the figure. "Matou Shinji, allow me to introduce the Director of Atlas Academy – Sion Eltnam Atlasia."

…Eltnam?

He knew that name…had last heard it in the Underground Chambers, from the TATARI.

"Director," the Matou boy greeted, bowing respectfully. If she was an Eltnam, did she know about…

"Director, this is Matou Shinji," Touko continued. "But then, you already knew that, didn't you?"

"Such could well be assumed, Aozaki Touko," the head of Atlas intoned. Shinji definitely thought he recognized some amusement there, but not why, as she turned to him. "After all..."

…and then she removed her mask, revealing a face that had long haunted his dreams since the attempt to steal the Stone, a face he thought he'd never see again.

"I do not find your company…disagreeable."

The face of Sialim Sokaris.

She seemed older, taller than he last remembered, skin not as dusky, but it was her. The girl who had trembled in terror before the image of the TATARI. The girl who had excelled in potions. The girl who had been his friend.

"…you," he breathed. Why? Why did she stand before him now? And how?

"Me," she confirmed, her lips quirking for a moment into what might have been a smile – but only for a moment.

"I thought you were dead…" Everyone had said so, even the Headmaster. There'd even been a funeral for her. "We all thought…"

"…that Sialim Sokaris was dead?" So—no, Sion questioned. "Their assumptions are correct. Sialim Sokaris is dead. She died shortly after she was born, years ago. She was – or would have been – my twin."

"Your twin," he repeated. That…that would explain a great deal, actually, including… "That morning, before the first day of class, you nearly called yourself Sion, before you corrected yourself."

"S-such is understandable due to a combination of being unaccustomed to informality and having never used the name," the purple-haired Alchemist answered.

"Hence you preferred Sokaris."

"The name I bore before I was granted the right to be called Atlasia."

"Not 'Eltnam'?" Shinji asked, as that was both her middle – and apparently the name of the family she was heiress to.

"No. In Atlas, the last name of an Alchemist is a title in its own right, with the more learned given the names of gods – or fey," Sion explained, wincing a bit at the mention of fey. "For example, Osiris, Isis, Sokaris…or Oberon."

…there was a certain venom in the way she said the name of the faery king, as if there were some sort of grudge there. Something deep, abiding, and personal. Perhaps he would not have noticed if this was truly their first meeting, but he'd lived with her for about half a year, and one learned a few things in that time.

"Oberon?" he repeated, noting that a flicker of something that seemed like more than annoyance on her face.

"A nearly unparalleled Alchemist who discovered the secret of creating the Philosopher's Stone." She fell silent for a moment, as if considering what else to say. "And the one that brought ruin to the Eltnam."

"TATARI," Shinji said, remembering the form her boggart had taken. But did that mean… "Does that make you…?"

A Dead Apostle.

Which would explain how she was able to use the witchcraft of Hogwarts, though not how she controlled her vampiric impulses. Unless she'd been asking the House Elves to give her raw meat and goblets filled with blood, but he didn't think that was the case.

"No," was Sion's reply.

"No?" Shinji asked, confused. He distinctly remembering TATARI saying he kept her alive – and if she were a powerful magus, she would become a vampire immediately, but…

"I discovered a cure, and worked to attain it," she said brusquely. "Something my ancestor had learned of long ago but discarded as useless, as he wished to seek immortality – power – through becoming a phenomenon. That is why I was at Hogwarts. To recover what had once been lost."

"But while at Hogwarts, you were still…"

"A unique case, due to TATARI's nature. One who was not yet a full vampire, but could wield the power of TATARI, turning illusion into reality. For example, the belief of others that I was a simple first-year student and could perform witchcraft."

He supposed it made sense, Shinji felt the urge to tease, just a little bit, to see how she would react, and see if this was indeed Sokaris.

"So those rumors about you being a metamorphmagus…they were right after all?" he inquired, looking at the girl intently. "Since those words about a performance with enough skill to be mistaken as the real thing…?"

"Of course not," Sion corrected, looking away and seeming a bit flustered, showing that like most Alchemists, she disliked imprecision. "The theory under which each of the two mechanisms function is quite different."

Shinji almost laughed then, as this was how Sokaris would have acted, but was struck by his words.

"…a performance…" he murmured. Which had unfortunate implications of its own. For example. "And what about us? The Stone Cutters? Hermione?" He was almost afraid to ask, but he had to know. And for all he knew, he'd never have the chance again. "Was that all an act too?"

…with the Stone as your aim from the beginning?

He looked down, not wanting to look at her in case she said it was, that she'd simply used him and the others for her own ends. Granted, the fact that she stood here – that she had called him here and was sharing this secret with him argued otherwise, but he didn't know.

Shinji had once thought himself a master of lies, but with her, he knew he was outmatched. When someone's very nature allowed her to become what others wished or feared…well, that was something he could only envy.

Warmth – and something hard.

He looked up, startled as he felt her hand pressing something into his, only to find that they now held a length of willow together.

His mother's wand.

"I am an Alchemist of Atlas. I do not lie when I can avoid it."

"Hence you went by Sokaris, because that name was also yours. Not…"

…your sister's.

"Indeed. You trusted me with your secret, Matou Shinji," she said, raising their hands as the light of the wand illuminated their faces. "As I now trust you with mine. You understand what that means."

To trust someone with a secret like this was the deepest bond possible between magi, especially Alchemists, who valued information above all else.

"…why?"

Because she didn't have to do this. It would be safer for her not to – though he supposed that as the Director of a Great Branch, she didn't have much to worry about in terms of safety.

"You were my first friend," she admitted. "The first person who did not see me simply in terms of what I could do. Who aided me when I asked. And thus I owe you a debt."

"…and what about Harry?"

"I paid it in part by saving his life."

"…but I thought…"

Harry had said Sokaris had been knocked to the ground and hit with a Stunning Spell, so how…

"A simple Stupefy would not truly disable me. Or any magus, were our circuits open."

And suddenly Shinji thought he had a good idea what had happened.

"…you killed Quirrell and took the Stone."

"Indeed."

"So that's what happened," he whispered, as he could easily imagine a Director-level magus defeating Professor Quirrell, Voldemort or not. Though… "But I thought the damage came from a reflected Killing Curse."

"Some, but not all. And Quirrell still lived, though the spirit within him did not."

"Voldemort."

"…did you know Harry would survive?"

"Given what had occurred a decade ago, the probability was high," Sokaris answered, gently taking the wand back. "And had it not occurred, the Philosopher's Stone can cure even death. As long as the spirit remains, resurrection can occur."

"Which is why Voldemort wanted it for himself, and needed Quirrell as a host."

That in itself was difficult to take in, though what was even more so was…

"…and it can cure vampirism?"

But that…was impossible. It was common knowledge among magi that once someone became a Dead Apostle there was no going back. If that equation were to be changed…if perfect immortality were possible…

"I am a living testament to its success, with the abilities of an Apostle, but no cost," the Director of Atlas replied. "And now that I have the Stone to work against, I can certainly create more."

Shinji didn't know what to say. If what she was saying was true, and he had no reason to doubt it was…then the balance of power had profoundly changed in the moonlit world.

"…what do you plan to do?"

"You know of what I fear, Matou Shinji," Sion said quietly. "Of what I seek, and who I must stop."

"TATARI. Your Ancestor."

It was funny how Ancestor in that context had a double meaning, given he was both her forbearer as a man, and as a vampire.

"The Thirteenth of the Dead Apostle Ancestors," she confirmed, eyes hard and yielding. "That is the quest to which I have set myself. And until TATARI has been eliminated from the world, and…Ries rescued from his clutches, I cannot stop. I am not unlike the Boy-Who-Lived in that sense."

She shook her head, seeming a bit disgruntled.

"Know this, Matou Shinji. There will be a place at Atlas for you, should you desire it – most of our Arts do not require Magic Circuits. Indeed, many alchemists cannot perform nature interference."

That…was tempting. To be offered a spot in one of the Three Great Branches, by the Director of that Branch…

Still…

"Thank you, Director," he said, "but for now, I intend to make my own path."

Her hum of consideration was almost husky.

"Such was within my calculations, Matou Shinji," the purple-haired girl said, nodding a little stiffly. "The offer will remain open, should you desire it. I request a geas of you though, that you not reveal what transpired without my permission."

A small price to pay, as he realized what an honor it was to learn all of this, to know the truth – something that no one else in the world would ever know.

"Agreed, Director."

They shook hands, the onmyouji and the Alchemist, marking their agreement.

"Then this concludes my business here as Director, save for one item," Sion said, nodding to the puppeteer, who had been waiting. "Aozaki, if you will?"

Shinji turned to Touko expectantly, wondering what it was that was left.

"Apart from the business of that failed assassination attempt—you have proven to be an interesting boy. Even catching the attention of the new Director of Atlas Academy and finding interesting artifacts like the Diadem and the Philosopher's Stone," Touko smirked, as Shinji looked down, feeling nervous at her gaze. "The Eltnam girl has arranged for you to be trained in the art of Occlumency, as well as a number of other mental arts. Your friend Potter as well, when he comes to visit."

"I see," Shinji said, his mouth dry. "Thank you."

"Don't thank her really – she's just making sure her secrets are protected," the puppetmaster continued. "Still, if I have to be bothered with training you, I wonder…would you like a trial run at being my apprentice? This will only be during your breaks, of course."

…was there even a need to ask?

"Y-yes, I humbly accept, Aozaki-san," Shinji said, all but stumbling over himself in his rush to say yes before she changed her mind.

"You'll probably regret it, you know," Touko said with a long drag of her now smoked-out cigarette. "Its hard work, and you'll have to live here in Mahoutokoro."

"E-even so," Shinji said. "I would be honored."

And indeed, he was. One year ago, he had thought himself an utter failure, before he had received the letter from Hogwarts. Now, the future was open to him – and there were six more years at Hogwarts to go.

"Then I will send a letter by owl later this month." Touko nodded. "If that is all, I believe the Director would like you to show her around the City."

Shinji turned back to Sion, raising an eyebrow.

"Director?"

"You have spoken much of your country's traditions at Christmas and Valentine's Day," the purple-haired girl answered, looking towards the light of the city, with the booths, decorations, and more. "As I am here, I would like to experience Tanabata firsthand."

Shinji blinked. Well, it wasn't as if anyone back in Fuyuki would miss him tonight, and he did enjoy the Alchemist's company. He'd missed her – a lot, if he were honest. And he knew after tonight, she'd be gone.

So he simply smiled.

"As you wish, Di—"

"Sokaris." Uncharacteristically, she stopped him from speaking further.

"Hm?" Shinji asked.

The girl – his first real friend and who knew what else – the Director of Atlas Academy – moved to stand beside him on the bridge.

"For tonight," she said, "I am simply Sokaris."

And so they spent a quiet evening exploring the sights of Mahoutokoro, with him talking to her about the traditions of Tanabata, though he almost thought she knew them already, with the two parting at the dawn, the Alchemist and the would-be Onmyouji returning to their normal lives.

There was much to do, plans to make, things to unravel, and more – but that was another story and another year.

A/N: Thank you so much for sharing the journey of Matou Shinji with me in this work, and please join me in the sequel "Matou Shinji and the Heirs of Slytherin."