I don't own anything. I don't make money off of things that aren't mine.

"So… why?" Shirou asked nervously as he looked up at the Wizard Marshal, an angle he wasn't used to, and which made the old man with his dark suit, dark cloak and red eyes seem even more intimidating than even his natural aura of wrongness usually made him. His voice had a higher pitch than before, which kind of unnerved him even more.

"Because boy, you are wasting my students' time." Zelretch scoffed at him before pointing down on him. "You are an inept fool when it comes to magecraft. You don't even have the slightest grasp of the fundamentals. You trying to take classes at Clocktower is like a kindergartener trying to go to university. And you waste Rin and Luvia's time by making them teach you everything that you lack."

"...And that is why you transported me out into this back alley and turned me into a ten year old?" Shirou asked in disbelief.

He couldn't really deny the truth of it. He had tried to take classes, but unlike everyone else who had ten years of private tutoring under their belts, and the accumulated knowledge within their family crests, Shirou was going in virtually blind. Even two years after following Rin to England, Shirou still barely knew any magecraft at all. He didn't even have a good grasp of the fundamentals.

Rin had sunk quite a lot of time into Shirou, and Luvia had joined in, hoping to steal Shirou away from Rin. But even with two geniuses trying to help him, he was still an idiot.

"Open your eyes properly boy. I didn't merely take you into a back alley. I took you to an entirely different world." Zelretch replied with a smirk.

"...Huh?" Shirou said, his heart falling. "It's that a bit extreme? There are easier ways to get rid of a guy."

"I'm not doing it to get rid of you. I'm doing it to educate you." Zelretch said, pointing a finger at him. "In this world is a good deal further away from the Root than your world, and as such, enjoys the benefits and drawbacks of being outside of Gaia's attention. It has resulted in a magical community that is less competitive within itself, and unlike our old world, this community has a public school for beginners like yourself. In other words, I'm sending you to primary school."

Shirou's jaw dropped. He had no idea how to respond to what he had just heard.

Zelretch ignored his expression and just pointed to a shop on the street. A shop that was being overlooked by everyone due to a bounded field that had been placed over it, shielding it from view from everyone without magical energy.

The Leaky Cauldron.

"Go in there. Tell them you are an orphan and ask for a job. That should be enough to get the wheels rolling." Zelretch said before turning and walking away. "I'll come to pick you up in a few years… If I can remember to."

"Wait, what!? Hold on!" Shirou shouted, but the man disappeared with a small 'pop' sound, leaving Shirou alone in the alley, hand outstretched and a look of horror on his face. "You've got to be kidding me!"

"I'm tellin' 'ou Tom, i's jus' 'ettin' w'rse and w'rse." Clide said in his usual half coherent slur he used after having one to many pints. The dwarf's eyes hazed eyes not even seeing the man behind the counter that he was supposed to be talking to. "Ou' ore. They'd be 'aken ou' ore. They 'ake it, and they fee' it in'o tha… 'industrial furnace' con'taption. It brea' my hear' Tom. It brea' my hear'."

"Clide, I think you've had enough for one morning." Tom said, debating if he should send someone to fetch a sobering potion for the dwarf.

Clide had been around a lot, ever since he lost his provider of raw iron ores. Now, he drank too much, and complained about how the Muggles were ruining the soul of the metal by sending it through their high tech furnaces.

He didn't understand that the old and bald man behind the counter just didn't care, and that his drunken ramblings were bad for business.

So Tom welcomed the distraction when the bell to the front door rang out. Though his relief turned to surprise, as rather than a familiar face, since he knew just about everyone in the magical community of Great Britain, it was someone completely new.

A child, looking about the age that kids start Hogwarts and dressed in worn out Muggle's clothes, came in through the door, looking about him with a bit of confusion, before spotting Tom and starting to head over. He looked like he could have been a Weasley boy, but his hair was too dark a red, closer vermillion than the ginger color the Weasleys were known for. There was also something about his face, the angle of his eyes, or maybe the tone of his skin, that spoke of Eastern dissent.

"Excuse me sir, are you the owner of this pub?" The boy asked in a polite tone. A slight accent. Japanese?

The boy looked like a mess, and was rather dirty, but Tom wasn't exactly in a position to judge for that. And while the boy was out of the ordinary, that didn't mean he'd be unfriendly. "That I am, son. How can I help you?" Tom asked with a grin that exposed his missing teeth.

"Thank you sir. My name is Shirou Emiya, and I was hoping I could get a job here." The boy replied. Tom blinked at him in surprise, as even in his long years of running the Leaky Cauldron, this was a first. "I'm a pretty good cook. I used to work part time at a restaurant called 'Copenhagen'."

"...Kid, where are your parents?" Tom asked the boy.

"Don't have any." Shirou replied.

"...Oh." Tom said, looking sadly at the boy. "Do you have any legal guardian?" A shake of the head. "Don't worry kid, I'll send an owl to Dumbledore. The two of us go back. He'll help you out."

"Dumbledore?" Shirou asked.

"You've never heard of Dumbledore?" Tom asked in surprise. Even if the boy was young, he should at least know who Dumbledore is. The man was a living legend. "Dumbledore is the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"...The school is named Hogwarts?" The boy asked in disbelief.

"You don't know about Hogwarts either? Kid, were your parents muggles? You know, non magical types?" Tom asked. The name Emiya had sounded familiar, so he had assumed that the boy was from an established magical family from the East, but maybe he wasn't.

It wasn't like Tom had anything against Muggles or Muggleborns. His store was the only entrance to Diagon Alley from the Muggle World. It was the only way that the parents of Muggleborns could follow their children into the Wizarding World. Of course he didn't hate Muggles. But the boy being a Wizard to Muggle parents could explain a lot.

Some parents, those with strong religious beliefs, sometimes believed that magic was a sign of the devil. Muggle born children being abandoned by their parents or even murdered by them wasn't that uncommon of a story, sad as it was. One or two orphans usually showed up at Hogwarts every year because of this exact situation.

"Probably." Shirou replied.

"What do you mean probably?" Tom asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

"My family all died in a fire when I was around seven, and I lost all my memories in it. So I couldn't really tell you if they were magical or not. Even my age can only be guessed at." Shirou replied, making the barkeep even more uncomfortable.

"I see. Well, Professor Dumbledore will know what to do. Until he or someone else from Hogwarts gets here, I'll put you up. Don't worry about the cost." Tom said, trying to look as kind as possible, something hard to do when you had the face of a walnut.

"Thank you very much sir." Shirou said, bowing to Tom.

"None of that kid. Its the responsibility of adults to take care of kids in bad spots." Tom said, waving him down. "And don't call me sir either. My name is Tom. Just Tom."

"Okay Tom." Shirou replied with a smile. "Is it okay if I work here to pay for my stay? I really do know how to cook."

"You don't have to, but if you really want to, knock yourself out." Tom said.

Tom was a surprisingly skilled and powerful wizard, capable of performing wandless magic with ease, but he wasn't much of a cook himself, so the pub's menu was pretty bland. Even if the boy was a terrible cook, it won't make much of a difference.

Shirou smiled broadly and went to the kitchen.

It had been a weird day, and he wanted to unwind doing his favorite pastime.

Tom was in for a shock.

Shirou Emiya.

Until the day that they received the letter from Tom, there had been no evidence of any such person existing anywhere. But after looking at the list of students to receive letters from Hogwarts, his name had appeared on it that very day.

Not that people raised more than one eyebrow over the magical appearance of a child. Accidentally appariting wasn't that uncommon among children, even if going all the way from Japan to the UK was a bit far, and going between countries with it was always a legal mess.

So before going to meet with the boy, they sent a request to the Japanese Magical Government to find out who he was, only to be told that no such person existed in either Wizarding or Muggle records.

In the end, both the British and Japanese governments agreed that there was simply too much paperwork in sending someone with no legal records back to Japan. Not to mention the fact that the Japanese wanted nothing to do with anyone by the name of Emiya. They still insisted that no magical Emiyas still held residence in their country. Not after the blood purge on that dark family killed all save for the singular child deemed too not bear guilt for their crimes against life itself.

Not that it took much in Magical Japan to get the death sentence. All forms of Dark Magic practice was illegal, unlike in Wizarding Britain, where only use on people was considered against the law for most.

The child Emiya later left the country hand-in-hand with the woman who executed that hunt twenty years ago, studied at Hogwarts and became an Auror during Voldimort's rise to power. Though after the fall of the Dark Lord, people didn't appreciate his methods anymore and he was let go. That child was now a thirty year old man, and last Dumbledore heard, living in Germany with his wife and daughter.

This new child didn't seem to have anything to do with the old Emiya family, but the Japanese Ministry still considered the name itself to be taboo, as it had nearly given rise to yet another Dark Lord in Japan. So Dumbledore volunteered to be the boy's legal guardian for the duration of his time at Hogwarts.

Because of this nonsense, it was two weeks later before Dumbledore found himself standing in front of the Leaky Cauldron, ready to speak to the mystery boy.

He was in for a surprise right off the bat, when he walked through the door to find that the entire pub was jam packed with people, with not a single seat open, even though it was early in the morning.

Every single person had a plate full of food in front of them, rather than a glass full of liquor, and they were so busily eating that they didn't even notice Dumbledore's arrival, and the old headmaster thought that he saw some of them crying. Only they were tears of joy, rather than the usual tears seen from those who ordered one of Tom's infamous soups.

The entire place smelled more heavenly than anything that Dumbledore could recall, and he had sniffed his fair share of love potions over the years. A slight bit of drool was making itself known in his mouth when he was finally spotted.

"Ah, Professor Dumbledore, you're here!" Tom said in that same cheerful manner he had always had.

"Yes Tom, I'm here. Sorry it took me so long. International bureaucracy was doing what it does best, which is to say, nothing at all." Dumbledore joked with a twinkling in his eyes, getting a laugh from some of the people who had overheard him, including someone who happened to work in the Department of International Relations at the Ministry of Magic. "Is the boy here?"

"Sure is. Let me get him." Tom said, stepping away from the counter, but rather than going up stairs to the guest rooms, he went back into the kitchen. "Hey Shirou! Professor Dumbledore is here to see you! So take a break and talk to him!"

"Sure thing, Mr. Tom." A young voice responded.

Dumbledore blinked behind his spectacles as a young boy came out of the kitchen, cleaning his hands of a washcloth.

He was a small child, with dark red hair and was dressed in some brand new clothes and an apron, likely provided by Tom.

Tom was a good man, but he had an unfortunate life.

Tom Riddle, or rather Voldemort, had always hated his own name, and had taken it out on poor Tom, murdering his family and cursing him continuously, some of which had lasting effects; teeth that wouldn't grow back even with magic, skin that couldn't handle the sunlight, a hunched back that couldn't be fixed, scars that could never be removed.

It had been over ten years since his torture at the hands of Voldemort, but Tom ended up a lonely man, with no wife or children to inherit his rather successful business, and few prospects when it came to romance, due to his age and appearance. And with his days winding down, he could afford to spend money on a random orphan who showed up on his door step.

"I thought I told you to cut it out with that whole Mr. thing. It's just Tom." Tom complained, waving the boy over. "Now come and introduce yourself."

"Hello Professor Dumbledore. My name is Shirou Emiya. It is a pleasure to meet you." Shirou said with a bow of respect.

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Emiya." Dumbledore replied, holding out his hand. Inviting the child to stop bowing and to shake his hand as an equal. "Albus Dumbledore, at your service."

"Do you want to use a table here or go to a private room for this business?" Tom asked.

"Oh, here is fine. It isn't like any of this is sensitive information. I just need young Emiya here's help with the paperwork to have him become a ward of Hogwarts, and to arrange for his residents until school starts." Dumbledore said.

"Well… if it is alright with you. I'd be happy to put him up until the start of the semester." Tom said, a little nervously.

"I'd bet you would!" One of his patrons shouted. "The kid cooks like a damn House Elf!"

"Language." His buddy said, elbowing him in the ribs. "Remember there is a kid here now."

Tom rolled his eyes at the accusation and looked seriously at Dumbledore. "I'll admit that Shirou's really helped out the place these last two weeks. He's more than paid for room and board. I'd also be willing to pay for his school supplies, so he won't have to go to school with a used wand and second hand everything."

Dumbledore nodded his head in appreciation. The budget for helping orphaned Muggleborns at Hogwarts never stretched far enough, and while you could get away with having a lot of second hand things, having a second hand wand was the kiss of death for most budding children. Second hand wands were not only less effective than fresh ones because they bonded better to a younger wizard or witch, but they usually were discarded because of some defect or damage to them, making their performance terrible.

"I couldn't ask you to do that." Shirou said, seeming concerned by the generosity.

"Don't worry about it kid. This isn't charity. You've earned it." Tom said with a shake of the head.

"...Thank you very much." Shirou replied with a smile and a slight bow of the head.

"Geez, stop being so polite! You're making me blush!" Tom barked, though his pale and tight skin didn't look any different than usual.

"If Tom would be willing to do all that, it would be of great help. I'll give you his invitation to Hogwarts, with the list of the necessities." Dumbledore said, looking down to the paperwork. "Now, how old would you say you are?"

"Well, everything seems to be in order. I just need to get all these legal documents to the right people." Dumbledore said, rolling up the pages and sticking them into his pocket.

He glanced at Shirou as he did so, since Muggleborns often looked shocked when seeing something big going into a small space, but it didn't look like his expanded pockets surprised Shirou at all.

Why could it? Rin had one just like it in her mini skirt. They were common as could be at the Clocktower.

The only real difference between Shirou's experience at the Clocktower and this place's 'Wizarding World' was the sense of arrogance and classism among its members.

Though it could simply be that the people who visited Tom's establishment were just normal and honest people, or as Shirou would call the Spellcasters, and the true psycho magi were elsewhere. …Alright so the people were weird, but a normal kind of weird, with the exception of the Hag.

A literal Hag coming into the pub had been an eye opener, even for Shirou, but since she seemed content to eat raw goat liver, rather than human, he wasn't going to judge.

"Thank you for everything, Headmaster. If you'll excuse me, I need to get back to the kitchen." Shirou said, getting cheers from those who were waiting to be served as he went back to the kitchen.

"He's a good boy. Hard working and polite." Dumbledore said with a nod of approval.

Dumbledore found himself liking Shirou Emiya… though there were things about the boy that were deeply concerning.

His eyes, the way he spoke, his every movement, they were measured and calculated, giving the child the presence of an old Auror. Someone who had faced the forces of darkness time and time again and could no longer allow themselves to rest easy because of it.

Not only that, when Dumbledore attempted a wandless Legilimency spell, to check the child's mindscape and make sure he wasn't dealing with another Tom Riddle, he only got a brief glimpse of what appeared to be a wide open field full of swords before the probe fizzled out, without any recognition on the boy's part that he had detected the intrusion.

Passive magic resistance. Rare among pure humans, but not unheard of. Or maybe he had some kind of magical blood in him. Either a House Elf or Brownie, if his cooking was anything to go by, or maybe one of the species unique to East. Assuming that he had some sort of magical creature in his parentage would certainly explain a lack of birth record, and hair that was a shade of red rarely seen in humans.

Dumbledore's Elder Wand could overcome all magic resistances, if he really suspected something sinister, but there was no need for that.

Shirou Emiya was definitely a different sort of creature, but not an unpleasant one.

"Yes… he is." Tom said, watching the boy go with a look of concern. "Albus… something happened to him. I don't know what it is, but his history isn't simple even by the standards of orphans."

"What do you mean?" Dumbledore's smile fell and he looked at his old friend with a serious look, wondering what would make the ever accepting Tom say such a thing.

"...He has scars, Albus. Two of them. One on his chest and the other on his back, both over his heart and each six inches across." Tom said with a side-long look, as his own hands went to his cloak, where his own scars were covered. "They are cursed scars."

A pained look crossed Dumbledore's face at the news. Scar's left by strong curses couldn't be removed, not with any sort of normal magic. Iris Potter's lightning bolt scar would be a perfect example of this.

Such scars don't happen by accident. So if Shirou truly had the scar that Tom reported, then someone had tried to take his life.

"Does the boy know how he got the scars?" Dumbledore asked.

"Claims it was from a fire, but that isn't the kind of scar left by a fire. Not a normal one, anyways." Tom reported.

So, the fire that had killed the boy's family had been a cursed fire. How terrible. Didn't explain why, or who they really were. Had there truly been other Emiyas who had survived the blood purge? It hadn't been the largest family in the first place.

"Please look out for him. I can't imagine a boy like him having done anything to deserve this." Tom said.

"My old friend, so long as he remains a student at my school, I will not allow harm to come to him." Dumbledore reassured him.

Hogwarts was one of the safest places in the world… so long as you weren't looking for trouble.