WARNING: Story contains spoiler for the Fate/Apocrypha light novel series.

It is also NOT beta-ed.

Please read at your own risk, and enjoy.

- London, England: 12 Grimmauld Place -

"It's ready. All that's left now is you."

"... Is there really no other way?"

"There's no cure here, Harry," Hermione said looking very tired. "I've looked – we both did. We've researched everything we could get our hands on since you became the Master of Death, and there's nothing."

"You can't stay here, mate," Ron sighed, looking at his friend sadly. "Not only because there's no cure, but also the fact that the Unspeakables are after you. And they can find almost anybody."

Harry said nothing as he took off his glasses and tiredly rubbed his face with his hand. Across from him are his two best friends, both married and looking well within their age, exchanging nervous looks. He, on the other hand, Harry thought bitterly, looked no older than the day when he finally defeated Voldemort once and for all. And that was two decades ago.

Everything should have been back to normal. The war ended, the Ministry of Magic was rebuilt, the Death Eaters were tried and convicted, and Magical Britain finally had the chance to move on with life, doing better than ever. Everything should have been okay.

But that all changed when Harry looked into the mirror one day on his thirtieth year. Although he was already nearing thirty, he realized that he still looked to be in his late teens; maybe early twenties at most. It was almost as if he wasn't aging at all.

And he wasn't.

At first, Harry didn't think too much about it. He assumed that he probably was one of those lucky folks who had the genes to make them look younger than their actual age.

But after a few more years since that realization, he began to panic when there were still has no signs of him physically aging. He still looking just as fit and youthful, while everyone else around him grew older.

Even worse, the Unspeakables had become suspicious of Harry's lack of growth and is planning to "interrogate" him. "Interrogate," as in kidnapping him, turn him into a human lab rat, and see what makes him tick.

He wouldn't have even known about this if it wasn't for Hermione - who happened to work for the Ministry of Magic. She overheard whispers about it when she had to go down to the Department of Mysteries, and was fortunate enough that they haven't noticed her. It was only a matter of time when the Unspeakables will be able to finalize their plans and go right after him.

Which now led to Harry's current situation at this moment.

"It's the only way, Harry," Ron urged anxiously. "You have to run away while you still have the chance."

"But to a different dimension?"

"It wouldn't be so bad," Hermione offered, hurrying when he gave her an unimpressed look. "Just think about all the places you can visit! Just imagine; seeing and experiencing all kinds of incredible things in other dimensions, times, maybe even worlds."

"Hermione, have you completely lost your mind?" Harry demanded. "You're telling me to run away to a different dimension, and there's no telling if I will even be able to come back."

At this, the Golden Trio looked very somber. What he said is true. Although it's guaranteed that he will be able to safely travel to different dimensions, the same couldn't be said for him coming back.

In fact, this might be the last time Harry will ever see his friends again. Not here, not in this time and world.

But as much as Harry wanted to deny it – and he really did – deep down, he, too, knew that as long as he remained in this world, the Unspeakables could, and will find him. It wouldn't matter where he hid or what protection he may use.

It was only just a matter of time.

After a moment of silence, Harry let out a defeated sighed. "... But this is it, isn't it."

Perhaps they saw some of the fear that appeared on his face because Hermione suddenly hugged him tightly, and Ron gripped his shoulder. They, too, didn't really want him to leave. The three may have felt awkward around each due to their visible age difference, and the war have made Harry more reclusive than ever.

However, they were still friends who have always been by his side since he turned eleven and entered Hogwarts. And now he would have to leave that, leaving Harry completely and utterly alone.

Harry gave a fierce hug in return, his chest and throat tightening, his eyes began to burn. He pushed Hermione away and nodded at Ron as he let go. The brunette, who was trying to hold back her tears, began to cry.

"Be careful, Harry! Always remember that we love you."

"We'll miss you, mate," Ron said, pulling Harry into a hug as well. Harry returned it just as fiercely before reluctantly pulling away. Letting go have never felt so painful. "Doesn't matter where or what time, we will always be by your side."

Harry looked at them on last time, imprinting their faces into his memories.

After saying his goodbyes, he saw his world dissolve around him with darkness, and then he was gone.

That was centuries ago. Centuries since he last saw his friends and began to travel throughout different worlds, time, and dimensions. Yet, he still could not find a cure to his immortality.

Harry spent a lot of time hating himself at first. Hating himself for getting involved in that thrice damned war that unintentionally made him the Master of Death. A part of him that even hated Hermione and Ron for suggesting this whole insanity.

In the end, however, that there is no one to blame but at himself. It was his choice for fighting that war against Voldemort. His choice in gathering the Deathly Hallows, however unknowingly.

It was his own choice that he's now traveling different worlds, wandering aimlessly.

He looked into his immortality in one world after the next, trying to find anything and everything about the Hallows and Death, but nothing significant came up.

Harry haven't tried to commit suicide, as he somehow instinctively knew that it would not work. Besides, not only be an insult to himself, but to his family and all those who sacrificed their lives for him so that he would live.

But he felt so tired. He just wanted to rest and finally move on.

Harry have also learned one important lesson over the years: Never get invested into a world he would eventually have to leave by getting involved with the people around him. The pain from all of them eventually leaving him due to old age was just not worth it. So he did his absolute best ignoring the people who tried to befriend him in each world.

And so he continues to wander; doomed to live forever, leading a lonely existence. Until after five thousand years since his journey began, Harry found himself in a world where tales of Masters, of knights and heroes, still exist in a modern time so very much like his own.

A world where he met a certain troll of the Nasuverse.

- Unknown location, England -

"… You want me to participate in a war."

"That's right."

"A magical war that takes place in a bloody city of all thing, full of many, many Muggle civilians."

"Yep."

"A war that existed for the past few hundred years since its creation, and had absolutely no victor even until this day."

"Uh-huh."

"Yet you still want me to participate in the Heaven's Feel."

"Exactly."

Harry sighed, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose – he had gotten rid of his glasses and fixed his eyesight many years ago. "You do realize that I came from a world where I fought a war, right? A magical war? And you want me to fight in another one?"

Zelretch winced. "Ah, I actually forgot about that."

Harry's left eye began to twitch in annoyance. "Then let's also not forget the fact that it was because of a war," he stressed, "that I'm stuck in this situation in the first place: Aimlessly wandering throughout different dimensions, and is bloody immortal."

"… But it might be entertaining?"

"You're the type who would even troll a baby by stealing their candy if you found it amusing enough, you old Vampire."

Zelretch raised his hands with a grin. "Touché."

Harry crossed his arms. "Give me one good reason why I should fight in the Heaven's Feel," he demanded.

"Well…" Zelretch sighed, "Just for the sake of this argument I'm going to ask you this: Do you know about the Fuyuki Holy Grail War?"

The immortal Wizard frowned slightly. "Of course I do."

A Holy Grail War is any battle that revolves around an omnipotent Holy Grail which is said to be capable of granting any wish. However, when preceded by "Fuyuki", any Magus knows that it refers to an exceedingly unique conflict in which Heroic Spirits are summoned as Servants to fight each other to the death.

Perhaps due to Association supervision being rather light in this small nation of the East, this Holy Grail War had repeated three times without drawing much attention. It was a poor joke to even suggest that an omnipotent wish-granting device could manifest in some Far East farmland - that was all the recognition the Association gave it.

However, that all changed by the Third Holy Grail War. The Second World War likely had an effect, as due to the intervention of various nations, the Holy Grail War of Fuyuki ended in unusual circumstances: The Greater Grail went missing.

Harry didn't know the full story as to how that could've happened, but whatever it was, it marked the end of the Fuyuki's conflict and with it, the dreams of the Three Families. Even so, the Einzberns did not give up and seemed to be crafting a new Grail. The Tohsakas, on the other hand, gave up the Grail. Nothing was heard from the presumably-decayed Matous. At the same time, information on the system behind this Grail War propagated throughout the Magi of the world.

Today, variations of the Holy Grail War ritual unfold across every continent. Of course, the majority of them are small in scale, with most only capable of summoning five Servants; even were the ritual itself established, it could not proceed to the point where it could grant any wish.

"As you may already know, the most important foundation of the Fuyuki ritual, the Greater Grail, disappeared from knowledge after the Third Holy Grail War. You know this, don't you? Well... three months ago, the Association finally found it. Or rather, they finally found out where it was hidden."

"Where?" Harry asked.

"Romania, in the city of Trifas on the outskirts of Transylvania. It's possible that it has been installed in the oldest building of the city - the Fortress of Millennia."

"How did the Greater Grail end up all the way over there? How did that happen?"

The man smirked. "The elder of the Yggdmillennia clan, Darnic, is what happened."

"...You mean that Darnic? He was the one who stole it?"

"Yes - the 'Eight-Forked Tongue'."

Harry wasn't too surprised by this information.

Darnic Prestone Yggdmillennia - the elder of the clan of Yggdmillennia, supposedly having lived for over a century. He attained the rank of Grand, the highest within the Association, and was a second-class instructor in elemental conversion. From what Harry have heard, however, his students had a rather low opinion of him. Rather than education, he exercised his true worth in politics.

Factional infighting, power struggles, competitions for budget - these were all ordinary occurrences within the Clock Tower. However, exhibiting extraordinary political skills, he manipulated and cheated anyone who trusted him, and even those who didn't, betraying and double-crossing – in other words, a first-rate swindler and real piece of work.

Zelretch continued. "That's not even the half of it. Not only does the Yggdmillennia clan own the Fortress of Millennia, they all have elected to secede from the Clock Tower as well."

Harry raised his eyebrows. This time, he was surprised. The act of defecting within the Associate itself in not uncommon either due to heresy or due to being so powerful that they had to be designated for sealing.

However, that is not the case when an entire clan secedes. It was essentially a declaration of war.

Then again... if they did possess something significant, it could be more than enough of an incentive to begin a secession. For example - an omnipotent wish-granting device, a Greater Grail which could show them the path to reaching Akasha.

The Master of Death inwardly groaned. Now he really wasn't sure if he wants to be involved in this Holy Grail War.

"If the Yggdmillennias have the Grail, and assuming that they have already assembled seven Masters, what's the point of me even joining when it's too late?"

Seeming very pleased with himself, Zelretch grinned.

"That's where you're wrong. You can still summon a Servant."

"...You lost me."

"That is the most intriguing aspect of this Holy Grail War. The number of Servants that can be summoned is twice the norm - fourteen."

"What...?"

"The last surviving Magus that the Associate have sent to exterminate the clans, discovered the dormant Greater Grail in the depths of the fortress. He managed to unlock the reserve system."

"Reserve?"

"Depending on the situation, the Greater Grail could support the Holy Grail War by once again distributing Command Spells. It was an auxiliary prepared as a countermeasure for the highly unlikely situation of all seven Servants joining forces."

"So basically... summoning another seven Servants to oppose the original seven Servants."

That makes fourteen in total. Harry understood the significance of this number.

"Exactly. The land of Trifas is positioned on the best leylines of Romania to begin with. Quite likely, it has been stockpiling prana at a higher speed than Fuyuki, to the point that it now possesses an inexhaustible amount of prana with which it can summon even fourteen Servants."

In Fuyuki, such a system would certainly have been an emergency measure. If worst came to worst, such an act might even have exhausted the leyline itself.

"So what you're saying is, if the Yggdmillennia have already got seven Masters and seven Servants, then..."

"...then the Associate will also assemble seven Masters and seven Servants, and will wage war upon the Yggdmillennia. They're already calling this the Great Holy Grail War."

"…"

Zelretch smirked. "So will you accept?"

Harry didn't reply, his mind debating. On one hand, he still believed that fighting a war for a supposed omnipotent, wish-granting artifact, is really not a smart idea. Magic or not, powers like that are not meant to be within the reach of humanity.

This particular Holy Grail War is also the largest one yet. Never before in history has a ritual of such scale been conducted. Just everything about this made his instincts scream wrong.

However…

This might be his only chance. He had been searching for so long throughout countless worlds, but it always led him to a dead end. Yet here he is, for the first time in five thousand years, where he could finally see an end.

The old Magician, perhaps sensing his companion's inner turmoil, pressed on.

"Regardless of what your choice may be, you know that you've already been chosen, right?"

Harry rolled up his sleeve and exposed a glowing mark on his left hand that looked disturbingly like the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. "I'm aware. This thing appeared just a few days ago. So does this mean I have to join the Clock Tower if I wish to participate this war?"

Merlin's beard, he hoped not. It hasn't even been a year since he first arrived to this world, yet Harry can confidently say that he's not too fond of Magi in general – especially those from the Clock Tower. They remind him far too much of the Pureblood supremacists with their elitist personality and holier-than-thou attitude.

Zelretch shook his head. "Not necessarily. From what I know, both camps haven't summoned all seven Servants yet. Whichever side you wish to ally yourself with is your choice.

"In any case," he pulled out a case from a bag. "A catalyst. Take it. The rest is up to you."

"Thank you. But before you go, I have just one question."

"Ask away."

"... Dare I ask where you got this catalyst from?"

"Oh, I borrowed it," Zelretch replied nonchalantly with a shit eating grin on his face.

Knowing that all too familiar grin, Harry gave him a silently-judging-you expression. "You mean you stole it."

"No, I borrowed it, " the man mockingly sniffed. "I just didn't ask for their permission. I did leave a note though, so it's not stealing. Really now, Harry, where's the trust?"

Harry face palmed.

Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg: Dead Apostle Ancestor, and master of the Second True Magic, "Kaleidoscope", is most possibly the biggest troll that Harry have ever encountered.

Once the sun had set and the curtains of night descended upon the city, Harry got to work straight away; his already secluded cottage was made Unplottable and Charmed to turn people away. He began to lay out the summoning circle in his backyard which had wide open space that was perfect for this task.

It had been a long time since he lived in solitude, the Wizard mused. After the summoning, however, he knew his relatively normal (albeit lonely) lifestyle will change rather radically. By how much, Harry wasn't sure.

Completing the ward of the summoning, the only things left now are the the catalyst to be offered and the incantation for the spell. At first glance, this may appear all too simple for a ritual meant to evoke a Heroic Spirit. However, as the Master is nothing more than the string which ties the Grail and the Servant together, this will not prove to be a problem.

Rummaging in a bag, Harry pulled out the case that held the catalyst inside, and opened it.

It was a blood-stained linden leaf. More specifically – he noticed as he took a small sniff on the catalyst – it is a linden leaf stained in dragon's blood. There was only one legendary hero that he could think of who's connected with the two.

He closed the case and placed it onto a makeshift alter. "That meddling old coot... He's really outdone himself this time. Wonder who's the poor sod he stole this from."

Thousands of miles away in Romania, a portly man from a certain clan began to sneeze and rage violently in panic as he searched every crevices throughout the fortress looking for his priceless catalyst in vain.

In his clenched fist is a note left by none other than Zelretch himself, apologizing for the "inconvenience" and that he needed to "borrow it for an unforeseeable future."

Back in England, after finishing the preparations for the ward quicker than he had expected, Harry stood near the blood drawn circle, and checked his watch.

It will soon be midnight: A time when his magic will be at its peak.

"Might as well get this started."

Maintaining a calm mental condition, he analyzed himself. According to Zelretch, the camps of the Servants for both sides have been decided; Black for the Yggdmillennia clan's Servants, Red for the Clock Tower's Servants.

"Let silver and steel be the essence.
Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation.
The ancestor is my great master Schweinorg.
Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall.
Let the four cardinal gates close.
Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate."

However, he will not be choosing a side. Rather than having to pick the lesser evil among the two, as long as he can get to the Grail, Harry was willing to work along side with whichever camp he will be aligned to.

"Let it be filled. Again. Again. Again. Again.
Let it be filled fivefold for every turn,
Simply breaking asunder with every filling."

With the first verse complete, the glow of the magic ward swelled.

"I hereby propose.
My will shall create thy body,
And thy sword shall create my fate.
Abiding by the summons of the Holy Grail,
If thou dost accede to this will and reason, answer me."

The incantation - the prana that now races within his Magic Circuits - is calling for a Heroic Spirit from the Throne of Heroes.

"I hereby swear.
I will be all that is good in the eternal world.
I will be the disposer of evil in the eternal world."

Despite his rampaging circuits, Harry continued regardless.

And now, the last verse.

"Thou, clad with the Great Trinity,
Come forth from the circle of constraint.
Guardian of Heavenly Scales!"

As soon as these words were spoken, a storm raged with a blinding light coming from the cottage's back surroundings and elaborately drawn magic ward. Few seconds later, the storm soon became a whisper, and the blinding light dimmed and faded.

Standing within the circle is a man whose entire body was encased in radiant armor. A greatsword is on his back. His silver-gray hair waved gently in the wind.

"In accordance to the summon, I present myself - the Servant, Saber of Black. I ask of you; are you my Master?"

In another world, where the Wizard did not stumble upon the Nasuverse, the Servant would have been summoned by his original Master, who then commands him to never speak in order to keep the possible hints towards his identity to a minimum.

By choosing to submit as a Servant of the Saber class, this would have fated to bring about a fatal misunderstanding between them, ultimately leading to his death.

But on this fated night, the Master of Death and the Dragon-Blooded Knight became the new Master and Servant, and will walk a different path.

For better or worse, that remains to be seen.

A/N: I will let you all know right now; not only am I attempting my very first crossover, I'm also not an expert on the Fate series. So if you guys could leave constructive criticisms so that it can help me improve my story, that would be awesome.

So, read, review, and let me know what you guys think.