Harry's smile vanishes, his face grows cold. "Oy, kid, you want to be a hero?" He asks.
It's a simple question. But all the fire, all the emotion vanishes from his gaze as he slowly turns to face the girl and the mouse, and he shakes in barely concealed rage. "If you want to learn how to become a hero... then watch."
The wand in his hand is no longer spinning, his right hand is steady as it holds eleven inches of pulsating runes. His left hand flicks itself, and out slides his Wand, which had no need of runes to channel his fire. It was proven in combat, and bathed in blood; fire meant nothing, nothing to this Wand.
"I drove back the King of Keys once, what stops me from doing it again? Even his resistance can't stand up to fyre. I have two hands and hundreds of spells, Miss Thief, and you have no wand and no way to cast. Berserker can rip you to pieces, and there are others here who were trying to stop you. And if you resemble your Servant in any way, then I can just threaten your family - my name has enough weight to have them dragged before the Council."
He chuckles, and the Wand that needs no runes twitches in his hand, as he levels it at the girl. "It's funny really - mad for the mad, chivalry for the chivalrous, and I suspect there's a hero for the heroic. This War is different - almost like our Servants are just extensions of ourselves, wouldn't you agree?"
His eyes are like two pieces of green ice, stabbing into hers with all their might. All it takes is a pull, and there it is - her name. Not her Name; even he wouldn't do anything that cruel and vile. That would lower him to Tom's level, and all he wanted was to make Tom's death mean something. Damning himself to the level of the dead was unnecessary.
Even if he could talk to them anytime he wanted. The middle finger on his right hand twitches, the ring on it aching to be on the left, to be closer to the Wand. But he would never allow it, what was inset in the ring instead of a gemstone was evil enough as it is. He would not succumb to the lure of the Mastery, he would not break.
"Miss Russo, do you wish to duel me? I should warn you - my training surpasses yours. If this begins, I will end it. Berserker and I are alike in a single, simple way - we both hate you, even if it is for different reasons. I hate your bloody average story, your whiny nature, and your thievery. She hates you for existing."
He snickers, and the wands in his hands crackle with energy. "Then again, she hates me for existing too. Pity that, I rather like her."