Disclaimer; I own none of the rights to the Harry Potter nor the Nasuverse/Type-Moon Series'.

A/N: I'm well aware that Harry's stats are far above a normal Caster class servant's, while using his Animagus form - But it is his Noble Phantasm, after all. Other than that, all I did was tweak the default template, mostly a few pluses, but a major hit to luck.

As for his Mystic Eyes of Legilimency, Dumbledore has much the same thing, at least in Fanon, so it's not far beyond possibility, particularly given that this is a not-quite-canon Harry.

I'm aware that in UBW, Lancer uses an Ansuz rune to set the Einzbern mansion alight, but it's the norse rune Sowilo that's supposed to invoke flame, Ansuz evokes insight, truth and wisdom. And yes, Lancer technically won their fight. He was lined up for a killshot after all.

As for why Ilya trusted Harry, Harry has the charisma stat. As for why Harry trusted Ilya, she's the grail, and it plays on his subconcious. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

-x-

Walking around Shinto, Harry felt eyes upon him, though they wouldn't see him, wrapped in his cloak as he was. It wasn't quite a match for an Assassin's presence concealment, but it was EX nonetheless - a value that cannot be quantified under the normal system, because it is in a league of its own. For a start, the Cloak's presence concealment was linked to the object, rather than to Harry directly, and could be shared with another person, such as his master as a result. Not that he was going to do that.

Caster's master was a snivelling coward of a boy, with lank, greasy, black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. His eyes were as black as heis hair, and reminded Harry of dark tunnels, and uneven yellow teeth. To be honest, he looked a lot like a mini-Snape. Only, the kid was about 16, so either Snape had imbibed some shrinking solution (a lot of it), or, if they were, in fact, related, then the kid would've been born during Harry's fourth year. More likely a cousin than a kid...

Though, since why-ever would Snape have been in Japan?

He was also a coward of the highest degree, hiding- sorry 'residing' within his home in the Miyama City district, and had sent Harry out to scout for the other masters and their summoned servants, while his Familiar, which resembled nothing so much as a bat, fluttered overhead.

Mounting his broom, though he could just as easily have grown wings, Harry flew to the top of the nearest building. On a rooftop none to far away, stood a white-haired man and a dark-haired girl, both clad in red. The man was no man, but a servant. It was his eyes Caster had felt, enhanced with magic as they were. He seemed oddly disquietened by Harry's returned gaze, as he scanned the skyline carefully. Only two men had ever been able to spy him through this cloak, and both with items enchanted by one of the wands he now bore. No man or servant should be capable of piercing it's ethereal properties in this day and age. No technology or magic created by any (other) wand or crest could pierce it's veil.

Excepting Hedwig for some strange reason, but she was inexorably linked to his magic anyway. That and she, like he, had been hit by a killing curse and (in essence) survived.

Yes, familiars, like the magi they're bonded to, share many of their properties. As Harry was capable of surviving that curse, so too was Hedwig (Though she'd been disincorporated). As he was master of the Hallows, bearing the cloak, stone, and wand, she too was linked to the hallows, and they worked against her no better than they did him. Harry wasn't sure if she too could transform, or what form she may take, but they shared base emotions, limited amounts of magic (he could swear she knew how to apparate), and, if he focused, shared senses, much like a magus' artificial familiar.

And that's exactly what Harry invoked. Hedwig, high above the city, had the proverbial, and literal, bird's eye view of the city. Her raptor's vision let him pick out individual details, not only at rooftop level, but at street level too.

In short order, the red-clad pair left their rooftop. As Harry continued to stalk through Shinto, looking for signs of other servants and masters, Hedwig shadowed the oblivious duo.

In the end, the only indicator was the earliest signs of the formation of a barrier around the school. Harry carefully erased part of a few crucial runes. Ideally his tampering wouldn't be detected until the barrier failed to activate.

-x-

Later that same night, Harry caught a glimpse of a tall, pale-skinned woman, in a short, black dress, edged with purple, and vibrant purple hair that touched the ground. The curious thing though, was the purple blindfold she was wearing, and the symbol on her forehead - it didn't resemble any rune that Harry could recall.

Oh, she was a servant, that much was obvious, but from the distance Harry was at, he couldn't tell which class she was.

And she was clinging to the wall of the building... No, she was standing on it. Even her hair was falling towards the building, rather than the ground. Clearly she had some kind of personal gravity manipulation. Likely not Berserker then, but it did increase the odds of her being of the assassin class, despite her provocative - and memorable - attire.

-x-

Harry slept the day away, conserving his energy. No point wasting prana after all. His master was a stingy one, and obviously feeling the drain. For all that he looked like a minature Snape, he was far less intimidating, and a lot less capable of the biting wit and dark, snarky humour of his predecessor.

Though he did favour green and black for his wardrobe a little too much, Harry hadn't been able to acertain whether the resemblance was anything more than a coincidence. Nothing in the house had a name on it, his master had no driver's license or other ID, and the command spells themselves prevented Harry from reading his mind with Legilimency. Which was a good as admitting that he'd tried.

Hell, he'd tried reading the minds of the neighbours too, to no avail. They were all muggles, so were much easier to read, it's just that they didn't have anything he could use. Well, besides the fact that his Master's mother had been a European descent, but that wasn't much in itself either. Particularly as she hadn't resembled anyone at Hogwarts, and there were no indicators that she was even a witch. Though Snape could've slept with a muggle.

Of course, Snape had died with the rest of the Death Eaters, so there wasn't any way to actually go to the source, even if Harry could've apparated that far. Then again, the Grail-implanted information basically confirmed that he was confined to the area around Fuyuki anyway. No inter-continental apparition for Harry. Such a shame too, he would've liked to check up on Ron and Hermione, on Luna, Neville, Ginny, and his old friends in general.

-x-

The next night though, he was again up and active. Starting at the school, Harry was surprised to see the same red duo, the girl investigating the same runes Harry had messed with, the servant in etherial form. Being a servant himself, Harry could feel his presence. And that of Cú Chulainn. The latter of whom suddenly took a swing at the girl. True, the seventh hadn't been summoned, but Lancer was simply taking the presented opportunity.

If Harry weren't wearing his cloak, he was sure that they would have known he was on hand too, that there were in fact three servants on the school grounds, not just two.

But would eliminating one of the six before the seventh was even summoned screw up the grail ritual? What had his premature termination in the fourth done anyway?

But no, she'd jumped from the rooftop, channelling prana to slow her fall. Even as she directed it through her legs, boosting her speed to a point beyond normal human comprehension (not that Harry was), Lancer was yet faster.

As Cú Chulainn struck again for her heart, her Servant took form, deflecting the blow with a shortsword. Lancer backed up to a point five meters away. Of course, with the speed he moved, and his two-meter long weapon, it wasn't much of a distance. "Saber, I presume... Or..." His stare suddenly intensified. If looks could kill, he'd be glaring Avada Kedavras. Not that they'd harm the servant in red. The killing curse worked by seperating the body and spirit, and Heroic spirits didn't exactly have a body in the first place.

The pair suddenly began to fight, exchanging blows faster than the human eye could track, Lancer even faster than when he'd fought Harry. Harry was suddenly glad that the Grail enhanced his body beyond normal human limits.

Red was pushed on the defensive, his shortsword only suited to parrying the spear. At the rate Lancer was attacking, Saber, if the red servant was, couldn't close to an effective range. A vacuum of steel. Harry wasn't sure why the female magus wasn't adding spellfire to the mix, but he figured that the particular forms of thaumaturgy she favoured might not have the neccessary Precision. Either that, or it was a wide area offensive of some description. She didn't look like a support mage.

A loud crash, and the sweep of Lancer's lance sent Red's shortsword flying. It was inevitable. A Lance wins against a sword, particularly a shortsword, almost every time. A longer reach, a greater force behind it. As long as the lance wielder can stick to his preferred range, he maintains an almost unassailable advantage. "Idiot." Lancer stated. Three strikes followed, almost faster than even Harry's seeker-trained and grail-enhanced sight could track. Strikes for the head, the throat, and the heart. Each fatal in their own right.

But each flash of red was met with a shining blade. The defending servant was again armed. A Chinese hatchet-like sword. Only, he now bore not one, but two. One dark, the other pale.

"Heh, a bowman trying to be a swordsman." Lancer declared. Harry blinked. The servant with the shortswords was Archer? Well Lancer was closer to the action, so Harry doubted he were wrong.

As though trying to finish Archer off, Lancer's strikes increased in pace. Archer matched every strike. The sparking clashes increased their deadly rhythm without pause or respite. Every strike seemed to shatter one of the mirror image blades, yet every instant, Archer had one in each hand. Slowly, Lancer was forced back.

Cú Chulainn leapt back. Both servants were moving with speed well beyond any mere mortal.

"Twenty-seven. I've disarmed you that many times, and yet you alway have another blade." Lancer was confused. So was Harry. A servant's weapon, his (or her) Noble Phantasm, is supposed to be their signature, imbued with the same magical energies as the heroes themselves, part of their legend and irreplacible. One, two, maybe a handful of items. Three of Harry's wands were but tools, breakable and recreatable, recrystalizable from his legend, but his cloak, the stone, and the elder wand, collectively the Deathly Hallows, and the sword upon his back, qualified. Should they be destroyed, Harry wouldn't be able to simply create another. Twenty-nine identical swords, each capable of matching Lancer's lance, was an anomaly. Even though Lancer had yet to unveil the true power of Gáe Bolg, it was still a Noble Phantasm, and should have rent through any weapon that wasn't a Phantasm itself.

Noble Phantasms were weapons of legend, capable of killing Gods and Dragons (or in Harry's case, a Basilisk), crafted by the Gods, or the Fae, or Death himself. Those weapons are not disposable, never simply discarded. Thus those blades aren't Archer's Phantasm. In theory, his Phantasm should be a bow.

Lancer was understandably pissed. In his own words, his master had tasked him to discover each servant's capabilities. For Archer to fight Lancer as a swordsman tells the latter nothing about his skill with a bow.

A brief interchange. Lancer declaring his frustrations, Archer casually dismissing him. Then Lancer's stance lowers, as does his spearhead. An aura of intimidation. The same premonition... no, promise of Death. "You shall face my finishing blow."

"I won't stop you. You're an enemy I'll have to defeat sooner or later."

A chill spreads through the school courtyard. The only sounds to be heard are the breathing of the two servants facing off.

Gáe Bolg. The demonic lance, reputed to always pierce the heart. It's only a matter of moments until Cú Chulainn unleashes it's potential.

Archer's death was only averted because another party was witness. The sound of hasty footsteps diverted Lancer's attention. All three servants present, along with the magus in red, noted the school uniform.

"A student? Someone was still here?"

"It seems so. he did save our lives though." Archer's brush with death was dismissed cavallerly. Though only because Lancer had taken off after the witness.

"Follow him Archer! I'll catch up as soon as I can!"

-x-

A school hallway. Archer standing over a body. Harry, still cloaked, watching through a window. Miss Red puffing as she finally catches up.

"Follow him Archer. Lancer will be returning to his master. This won't be worthwhile unless we at least discover who his master is."

The victim was still breathing, though every breath was weaker than the one before. Red finally looks him in the face, and gasps as though she'd been slapped. If Harry had to guess, he'd say she had more than a passing acquaintance with him.

Though it's naught but folly, she tries to heal him. The strike of Lancer's, as the boy shouldn't have been capable of defending himself from the cursed spear, will have pierced the heart. That he'd held on as long as he had was a minor miracle in itself. Nothing short of a phoenix... Or not.

Miss Red drained the prana from an artefact, a pendant, dropped it on his chest, and departed. Why, Harry could not ascertain. By the very rules of magic use, the statute of secrecy, one of the few things every facet of the magical societies worldwide had agreed upon, he couldn't be allowed to remember. Drawing one of his wands, his Hawthorn-Unicorn one as it transpired, Harry cast a simple 'Obliviate'.

Harry too left the scene, wondering if he could track down either Lancer or Archer. Behind him, the pendant gleamed as it absorbed and negated his spell.

-x-

Hedwig had tracked Archer to a Western style house within Fuyuki city's limits. Even as Harry apparated to a nearby rooftop, Miss Red rushed out and down the hill.

Following on silent feet, making superhuman jumps between rooftops, Harry tracked her to an Eastern style house, wherein Harry could sense the same magic as earlier. Lancer was within. Was this the house of Lancer's master?

No. Lancer's aura prickled with malevolence. At a guess, this was the witness' house. Lancer would be aware he'd survived, but not that he'd had his memory wiped.

"I'll just have to jump in and beat him. I'll worry about what comes next when it happens..." Ms Red was about to order Archer in, when a white light, akin to a fallen star, flared from the property. A peal, like the tone of a pure bell rang out. A wave of magic far greater than Lancer's own swamped the place.

The summoning of the seventh and Final servant.

Lancer vaulted the wall, looking like all the demons of hell were snapping upon his heels. Archer and Red were stunned. Following Lancer's departure, the other Servant, a golden-haired woman, with bright green eyes akin to Harry's own, clad in blue and silver armour, vaulted the wall too. As she dropped like one of the furies, Archer intercepts a strike aimed for his master in Red. With his body. As the second servant strikes to decapitate Archer, Red cries out. "Archer, Disappear!" The command spells on her right hand flare, before one of the three fades to grey. Clearly such an act, in such a timespan, was beyond normal capabilities. Oddly, it was the second burnt. For her to have used two command spells before the grail war could even really begin?

The second servant, whom since Lancer had inspected everyone else, and initially misread Archer, would make this one Saber, didn't falter. She simply followed through her strike, pursuing Red. Red whipped out a jewel, a Topaz, and unleashed a hurricane of force.

Saber wasn't even phased, her innate magical resistance rendering it less than useless. Harry doubted anything shy of his most powerful attacks would even scratch her. A real mage-killer.

Red stumbles back, falling on her arse. As she looked into the sky, Harry removed his cloak.

"That magic was splendid, magus." Saber spoke quietly, with a voice like a clear bell, but with a tone of voice that imply that she was used to a position of authority, to instant obedience. "But this is your end, Master of Archer."

Her sword was unseen, the air itself distorted around it's shape. Red closed her eyes, her face serene. To fall to Saber was no disgrace.

-x-

A/N: The description of Harry's master, the "greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin." is lifted directly from HP, as is the yellow, uneven teeth and the dark tunnels for eyes. Not a very pretty picture, for an equally unpleasant man.

Snape is also described as being vindictive and creepy. Which is why I don't get the number of fanfictions that lionise Snape.

I also personally think that he was little better than an obsessed Stalker re: Lily, but ymmv.