FicWad

A wise man once said 'Life is like a box of chocolates; you never know what you're gonna get.' That is perhaps one of the smartest things a human being has ever said. If you get the reference, then you also get the irony of that statement.

Universes away, a terrorist by the name of Voldemort was thinking the same thing as he looked upon the child spoken of in a prophecy who would one day kill him with the power he (Voldemort) knows not.

It had been a surprising twist of fate that in this universe, on this planet filled with a massive and deadly world society called the 'Moonlit World', the magical/supernatural and non-technological equivalent of the 'Shadow Web' of the internet, that he would not suffer the same indignity of having his Avada Kedavra spell rebounded into his face.

In this world, there are threats of individual and monstrous persuasions lurking about, possessing the power to wipe out any militarized force in the world should they just feel the desire to. Thankfully, through a series of checks and balances among this world's multiple societies, these threats are often kept in check. Scarily, these balances are usually these beings' superiors in both authority and destructive capability and if THEY ever decided to wipe out a city with millions of people then...well, there's not much the world could do to save that city save free the people of such a fate and nuke the ever-living hell out of it to hopefully kill the threat or just make the effort to go on a rampage seem like a waste of energy.

One of the most numerous of individuals within a couple of societies is colloquially referred to as 'Magi.' These people basically use 'magic' through science...like but not exactly like the Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha or To Aru Majutsu no Index universes. True Magic is an ultra rare type of gift that the number of people capable of it can be counted on one human hand with fingers to spare.

A trolling Dead Apostle (i.e. super vampire) that can give Yukari Yakumo a run for her money with his mischievous nature by trolling not just his own world, but parallel worlds as well, is just one example.

A time controlling, explosive happy redhead whose mastery of time allows her to overlap innumerable amounts of copies of herself over her own body to tank damage to basically make her indestructible (think the Yu-Gi-Oh! monster Relinquish, but using alternate selves instead of other monsters) is another...and can also be considered her own omniversal selves' most hated bitch now that you think about it.

These two are the biggest hitters of the Magi and they're just as crazy to boot. And the Magi societies are really underpowered compared to the more natural and monstrous enemies such as the Dead Apostle Ancestor group. That's basically a group of the top supernatural beings (the trolling vampire being one of them) that make the vampires of Twilight look like bedazzled puppies, and make the Nazi vampires of the Hellsing world look like Twilight vampires.

It's anybody's wonder how the weakest but most numerous of the human magic societies, headed by the ICW (International Confederation of Wizards), is even still alive. Well, while their magics are not nearly as destructive or specialized, they are more versatile with some of the greatest achievements being able to say 'fuuuurrrk youuuu' to the laws of space by creating open-spaced pocket realities, such as entire alleys of buildings between the alleys of mundane buildings in the non-magical world.

Loosely banded together, the numerous magical societies of 'wizards' and 'witches' around the world generally try to avoid interacting with the Magi and the psycho Church agents that'd put the Mexican Inquisition to shame in regards to heretics and witchcraft if they're allowed.

Though, throughout history, there have been conflicts in this magical world, mainly between the wizard kind's most opposite groups. These leaders of violence, so called 'dark lords', have been a thorn in many people's sides for a long time.

Gellert Grindelwald allied with Adolf Hitler to start World War II.

'Nuff said.

Now, not even forty years later, another dark lord by the name of Voldemort has been leading a 'pro-pure blood' rebellion against anybody who opposes him. Things were going great for him too. Using hit and run terror tactics he learned from many muggle conflicts in the Middle East, he had the British Wizarding world so wrapped up in fear that an accidental magic case from a young child would have many screaming in fear.

It was hilarious!

Unfortunately, such as with the last dark lord, he ran into a snag. Yes, the prophecy regarding his demise was bothersome and he fully intended to rectify the problem in just a moment if you'd wait for a bit more exposition.

See, he'd done an extraordinary job of spreading fear throughout Britain.

...too good of a job, he'd say in hindsight.

So much fear in such magical populations had an...unexpected drawback. Mainly, getting the attentions of some of those very powerful, supernatural entities mentioned earlier...those of the 'monstrous' kinds. Attracted to Diagon Alley, the being disguised in human form was the unfortunate victim of an intended raid by one of his Death Eater bands.

This being was unamused at the even more unfortunate Death Eaters and rapidly morphed to its true form before proceeding to tear into the terrorists. One escaped and returned to his master, but the fool led the beast straight to them. Seriously, who would have thought a Dead Apostle Ancestor was capable of using wizarding magic such as apparition!?

Unfortunately, that was only the start of his problems...for that day!

See, Voldemort was very stressed out by his cliff dive in luck. So, how would you go about dealing with a walking weapon of mass destruction in the form of a giant, pissed off Dead Apostle Ancestor? Well, obviously, you'd go to the Church who had freaks of their own specializing in this kind of monster slaying.

Well, that worked for all of about three minutes before one of their wards went off, detecting his nature (soul split from the Horcruxes he made) and mistook him for a Dead Apostle as well. It didn't help that normally fatal injuries were only brief inconveniences for him, as such solidifying his 'ungodly nature.'

Then the damn Dead Apostle Ancestor crashed through the ceiling and that's when a REAL party started. Through the use of tactical evasive maneuvers (he was NOT crawling on his hands and knees while soul-destroying spikes and flaming keyblades were flying over his head, dammit! And he was NOT squealing like an eleven year old girl seeing a troll for the first time!), he was able to get out of there before apparating, swearing to NEVER go back to the Vatican without a god forsaken army of the damned in front of him.

Fast-forward to his getting cleaned up and deciding to go for a stroll when his servants let him know that Peter Pettigrew, friend of the Potters, wished to defect to his side, offering the location of the hidden Potters as insurance. With no DAA or blue haired Church lunatics after him and suddenly an answer to the troublesome Fidelius Charm coming to his doorstep, then you can understand Voldemort's happiness for his luck doing a 180 turn now.

A quick Crucio to torture the fat man on principle (comes with the Dark Lord business, etc.) and he had the Potter's location. A private word and already forgotten promise to one of his most loyal servants later, Voldemort had soon been blasting his way through the surprised Potters. As he killed the mother, he lifted his wand to cast the Killing Curse only to pause.

The past week has been a very excruciating week for him. In fact, the free time he had on his short walk earlier gave him much needed introspection and self-reflection...too hell with anybody who says those two terms mean the same thing. He was LORD VOLDEMORT!

Anyway, he realized that he was HILARIOUSLY outgunned for an established dark lord. Thinking back to how that Church Burial Agent took an Avada Kedavra to the face only to get back up a second later to start shooting him with spikes of Bible pages of all things caused him to silently rub a hand down his chest where the scars from ten burning holes use to be solidified the fact.

He needed a ringer! Someone who could fight on even grounds with those monsters. It just so happens that he knew of a spell but really thought it was a trap given to him by a shady vampire. Really, who would believe that it could summon a Hero of the past or future to be his 'Servant?' Yes, it was tempting, but to him, it was so tempting that he knew it was a lie because of that so he'd never gotten around to using it.

Now seemed like a really good opportunity. So, he'd took the child, apparated out, and gathered some henchmen to gather a relic one of his obscure rituals was able to locate for him and with aid from a mole in the Ministry of Magic's Department of Mysteries, he was able to get the location of the most historically important site in all of magical and mundane Britain.

It took several weeks but with his resources and a few anonymous dealings, he was able to find the ruins of what once must have been Camelot. The magic was strong in this area as well and large deposits of iron under the ground naturally shielded the magical leylines under the castle's center, more specifically, where none other than King Arthur himself MUST have had his throne. It only made sense in Voldemort's egotistically mind that this was able to hide such a legendary myth from magicals.

So, after making a clean, level patch of stone transfigured from the ground, he spent an hour meticulously drawing the large magic circle with the blood of his hated foe, Harry Potter, using spells to replenish the blood and plugging his own ears to not hear the child's cries.

When he was finally done, with a little modification of his own designs that he made upon finishing the original diagram, and he and six other henchmen such as Bellatrix were to help him fuel the ritual. He wanted his loyal servant powerful so it only made sense for he and six other powerful pure-blood wizards and witches to pour as much energy as they safely could into the summoning.

"Silver and iron to the origin

Gem and the archduke of contract to the cornerstone

The ancestor is my great servant Sweinorg (cuz like hell will Voldemort call someone named Sweinorg as his 'master')

The alighted wind becomes a wall

The gates in the four directions close

The three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate.

Let it be filled. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. (Seriously, 7 is more magically powerful then 5. I bet this was the trap that vampire had planned for me.)

Let it be filled seven-fold for every turn, simply breaking asunder with every filling.

I announce

Your flesh shall serve under me, and my fate shall be your sword

Submit to the beckoning of your master (Couldn't find a holy grail, but what is more worthy of a Heroic Spirit's summoning then Lord Voldemort's beckoning?)

Answer, if you would submit to this will and this truth.

An oath shall be sworn here

I shall attain all virtues of all Heaven

I shall have dominion over all evils of all Hell. (Now THIS is sounding like my kind of spell.)

From the Seventh Heaven attended to by three great words of power

Come forth from the ring of restrain, protector of the holy balance!"

The chant ended and the ritual circle with the baby in the middle he intended to be the sacrifice if needed (fingers crossed!) erupted in a twister of magical energy, a vortex that swallowed the circle and baby all in one go. (YES!) The purple, black, and red mesh of colors each gave off an aura of malevolence that honestly made him prefer a dementor's. While a dementor's aura would chill your bones and suck away all sources of happiness from his memories, this one gave off the power of an apex predator that you had just kicked in the balls while it was sleeping and now it was looking down on you while you pissed yourself in your fiddle position.

That is when his luck went full circle starting from the cliff dive earlier in the week as it now did another 180 turn. A phantasmal hand attached to a skeleton arm reached from the tornado of power and grabbed the seven Death Eaters. A pain unlike any he had ever felt before consumed his entire nervous system. He couldn't hear over the pain in his body but if his face was anything like his loyal henchmen then he was pretty sure it was aLOT of pain.

His eyes closed, he couldn't pay the amount of attention needed to see he and his followers' bodies burning like paper, turning to blackened crisps of matter before that too was blown away, leaving just seven glowing orbs- their magical cores- within the hands' grasps. With a clench, they all crushed the orbs and absorbed it before retreating into the tornado.

And so went Lord Voldemort. Yes, his other Horcruxes remained, but with his body, magic, and soul absorbed, there was no spirit to remain on this plain. Think of the anchors as save points in a game. This soul fragment of his was his latest progress and with that gone, he'd have to start all the way back at save point six, losing all memory that he didn't save.

Minutes pass before the vortex of magic subsides and a magnificent and terrifying (for some, awesome for others) sight could be beheld. A massive black stallion with red eyes shining from beneath an armor half-helmet over its equine skull stood like a symbol of indomitable power, its snow white mane fluttering a little from the last bits of its summoning. A red quilt torn and tattered on the edges laid across its back underneath its armored saddle.

And atop that saddle sat a woman of beauty unparalleled in this day and age. She was without a doubt a woman with a full grown figure, her black, skin-tight, dragon scale suit underneath dragon-themed purple armored hip plates and shoulder pauldrons displayed an open area on her front, showcasing to the world her tightened six pack abs and the majority of the lower half of a prodigious, full and perky chest, the top and outer halves covered by the black dragon skin.

Underneath the shoulder pauldrons was a cape that hung over the back of the horse, black on the outside and crimson on the inside. Her face was womanly and beastly in a feral sense, like it could never be tamed. A small nose sat centered underneath a pair of gold eyes with black, slitted pupils and from within her shoulder-length blonde hair, blue horns the same color of her armor sprouted around her scalp like a crown of armored bone.

Within her right hand, she held a black horsemen's lance that was odd and terrifying in design as through its body in numerous angles were red spikes, like massive thorns the length of a man's forearm. It was a lance that could stab someone a dozen times with one thrust.

It was a magnificent abomination compared to the original Lance of Rhongomyniad that Voldemort had used as the catalyst to summon King Arthur in the Lancer class. The use of so much innocent blood, the intentional and insulting nature of the altered chant, and the malicious desires of the casters' hearts could only summon such a black knight, a King Arthur that looked more like a beastly tyrant in human skin.

And within her other hand was the intended sacrifice, the lone innocent in the whole room. Harry Potter sat still, body petrified by the magical power and the authoritative aura coming from this woman that got through even his baby tendencies. He could not dare to cry for fear of upsetting this woman.

The horse pawed the ground as its red eyes gazed around the empty room before turning to look back at its rider, eyes widening minutely at the sight of the baby in King Arthur's hand.

Once she had gotten her senses of the place, she finally gave a glance down at the babe in her arm. It was a little pudgy thing but nothing a more fitful dietary regimen couldn't fix, as well as plenty of tiny exercises to work those baby muscles. His green eyes seemed oddly familiar. A nostalgic feeling came over her as she used to have green eyes like his.

She knew well enough of the nature of her summoners and the summoning. She was intended to be entirely loyal to her master but seeing as how his meddling altered the cost of her summoning to such an extent, he and his followers paid the price.

She could feel the combined might of those seven magical cores being fed to her own dragon's core, though the largest one also happened to feel like just a fragment of a whole. According to intuition, it would behoove her to find the others as her Right of Conquest, if one could look at their situation's unfolding as such a battle.

Still, she had PLENTY of mana and she was getting a boost from having a magically significant number of summoners as well as being summoned above Camelot.Had she kept Excalibur, then yes, her kingdom would have been sealed away, but in this timeline, she kept Rhongomyniad instead. As such, upon the death of her body, her kingdom was not sealed on her request.

Checking her stats, she was surprised with them all being near A-rank or higher. Hell, due to the fortuitous nature of her summoning, her Luck went up a rank, though nothing could be done about her E-ranked Charisma. A bout of hindsight hits her for a moment before she shakes her head to clear it of regrets and doubts. Still, she can certainly feel the blood rushing through her veins and her magic core swiftly reproducing massive quantities of prana within her body.

She wasn't sure what sorcery was the cause of this. It was common knowledge in the Throne of Heroes that it was possibly seven of them at a time could be summoned by a magus to fight against other Heroes for the chance to have one of their wishes granted. It had been a very tempting solution to her goals yet here she finally was, only she was quick to notice several differences between her body and what she had expected upon being summoned.

Returning her attention to the babe, she doesn't see any Command Seals as this wasn't done with aid from the Grail, thus she did not have those to worry about but she was summoned with the purpose of serving her master.

Since she absorbed the soul of her would-be master and his followers, that technically meant that she was now her own master.

A fanged grin spread across her face at this realization and several dozens of beings in this world felt a cold shudder down their spines.

"Rejoice, my friend!" she called to the horse. "We are bound only to ourselves, and no one else. What fortune that we shall have another chance of ruling Briton...after removing whatever person is now sitting upon my land as its ruler."

She faces Harry again. "I am the Once and Future King, Artoria Pendragon, babe. I sense much magic in you as well. With the right upbringing, you will have potential. You will have the honor of my tutorship and training to be my first vassal in this future world as recompense for your previously dire circumstances."

She does not expect any sort of applause but a happy babble would have been nice. Once again, she curses her E-rank Charisma. Perhaps, she should have eased up on the tried and true 'rule through strength' method and paid a little bit more attention to Merlin's teachings on non-violent diplomacy.

To be fair, she WAS going through one helluva puberty session at the time while her other Excalibur wielding counterpart was too young to experience such turmoil.

While she didn't get an applause, her aura did cause Harry to give her something else.

A noise like a stomach growling is heard from Harry and hunger is Artoria's first thought until she sniffs the air and smells the unmistakable scent of feces. The horse glares at the child for pooping his pants above it.

"Verily, we will need to find someone who can be your wet nurse. You look not the age of weaning and you would not find milk from my bosom, young one. Let us find what amounts to civilization in my country. I would like to see how it has progressed in my absence while we get you aid."

"You'd probably be disappointed, King of Britain."

She draws Rhongomyniad into a thrusting position as she faced her possible assailant. Walking from the corner of the former throne room, a middle aged man with white hair stepped into the light. He was dressed in a strange (to her) but finely tailored suit. He looked to be in his early forties but with his red eyes and undead aura, she knew him for what he was.

"What business do you have with the King, Dead Apostle? Your timing just after my summoning could not be more planned," she asked, eyes cautious, not knowing of what unique ability the being may possess.

The man gave a chuckle as he twirled a walking stick topped with a red jewel. "I am the architect of your apotheosis, Tyrant King of Britain. I gave those fools the spell needed to bring you forth from the grave with a dose of what knowledge I have of the Third True Magic, as well as your catalysts else they would have searched years for it. My name is Kischur Zelretch Sweinorg, Magician of the Second Magic, Vice-President of the Magi Association's Clock Tower branch, and ranked 4th of the Dead Apostle Ancestors. I am here to offer my services to see to it your second ascension becomes certain."

He gives a small bow at the end and waits for Artoria to answer as she thinks over the info dump.

"Such a powerful person wanting to serve someone else is very uncommon among your kind, Magician. Do you truly wish to swear fealty unto me? If tis is a joke, it's of very poor taste."

He shook his head and hands in a placating gesture. "No, of course not, your highness. I am merely looking to stir up this hornets' nest of a world. Your return will hardly be subtle if your past is anything to go by."

She merely nodded in actual agreement.

"Plus, with my magic, I have viewed tens of millions of parallel worlds and will thus be able to serve as a well of useful information. Seeing as you are not bound by Command Seals, and thus was not summon by the Grail, then I'd reckon you are in short supply of that resource. Also, I have many societal and political connections with very prominent and powerful individuals. I'm not like my many counterparts. I actually like getting my hands dirty, as the saying goes. I'm offering my full cooperation if only for the chance to see if you will change this world's future...my King."

King Artoria creases her brow in consternation but a sniff from her nose catches the scent of Harry's mess, causing her to wince and lose focus. Zelretch senses her issue and offers a show of his help. With a snap of his fingers and a use of magic, he has Harry's diaper changed and his bottom cleaned. Where the two things ended up can only be guessed. mental Zelretch laugh

Seeing the usefulness of the man, Artoria gets a great idea. Straightening up in her saddle, the horse following suit as it straightens up, she starts. "Very well, Magician. Do you swear your undying fealty unto my authority until such a time as I release you of your vows, and to serve me faithfully and truthfully until such a time has come about?"

He gives a gentlemanly bow. "I, Kischur Zelretch Sweinorg, do hereby swear on my name, title and honor that I will serve you as a loyal subject faithfully and truthfully until such a time as you deem fit to release me of said vows."

She nods, happy at how her luck is surely turning around now. "Very well, as such, I hereby appoint you, Kischur Zelretch Sweinorg, Chamberlain of Camelot in my absence. My castle will need laborers to rebuild its glory so I will leave that in your capable hands. Use whatever means necessary as long as they do not contradict your vows to me. Your first order of business though will be to find someone appropriate to help me raise my future vassal."

As she continued on, Zelretch could barely keep his mouth from dropping as with all of his services, she makes him the head butler of Camelot. Here he thought he'd get to do something more fun.

'Hmmm...' Looking around at Camelot, Zelretch realizes he's gonna need some help. 'Looks like I have to call in a few favors from Remilia-chan to borrow Sakuya-chan. This place will take months to repair if I did it myself. Also, I'm sure Flandre-chan would love the new playmate. Kukukukukuuuu, let's hope Yukari hasn't noticed my little tunnel through the Hakurei Barrier else she'd ruin more than just my fun.'

He gives a bow to dismiss himself and disappears into the Kaleidoscope, leaving with Artoria a couple of translated books on baby maintenance for dummies.

Author's Note: As you can see, this is NOT your typical HP/Type-Moon crossover. Harry will actually be serving Artoria, not the other way around. Also, a healthy, young Zelretch instead of the old, near-crippled but still OPed Zelretch we're use to. This one did not have to injure himself by fighting off Crimson Moon, so he's still in his prime. Crimson Moon did not try to drop a reflection of the moon on Earth but instead has something else planned. As such, try to imagine with the Butterfly Effect how this world is sooo different then canon.