The Whirlwind in the Thorn Trees
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything. All Harry Potter stuff belongs to J.K. Rowling. Also, this story is heavily influenced by Good Omens, which is written by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. The title comes from the song "The Man Comes Around" by Johnny Cash. And the quote used below is from the musical Cabaret.
A.N.: Yes, this is my first fanfiction. And apparently, instead of starting off easy, I decide to start writing a huge story that is going to be huge. I just…don't even know what I'm even thinking about. However, I am rather excited. Also, I would absolutely love a beta reader. I tried looking for one, but got overwhelmed by how awesome everyone is and was way too insecure to contact anyone. I'm actually super surprised that I'm even uploading this.
Full Summary:
Alternate Universe (AU). The Antichrist is supposed to be the Beast that brings about Armageddon, the one to help destroy Heaven and lead Hell to victory. This was supposed to be Harry Potter. Due to Lord Voldemort's actions, however, the Boy Who Lived is now an unknown variable and both Above and Below are vying to bring him to their side as The End draws near…
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"And now! Meine Damen und Herren, Mesdames et Messieurs, Ladies and Gentlemen! I present to you…"
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CH. 1: Setting the Stage: An Introduction of Sorts
A young, handsome man stood glaring at the house in front of him, as if looking at it would make it disappear entirely. He could actually make this happen, but thought it would be counter-productive to the job assigned to him. He watched as an old man placed a letter on top of a small bundle that was sitting on the doorstep. He watched as this man gave one last sad look at said bundle, and then disappeared into thin air with the stern-looking woman, returning all artificial light to the empty street. He didn't shown signs of surprise at this obviously abnormal display, only annoyance. Thus, the glaring.
Without warning, a soft glow appeared a few houses away, distracting him from the house. It faded to reveal that another person had just appeared. The wave of angelic power suddenly hit him and almost had him doubled over. His eyes widened and he gasped in pain. In that same instance, the figure had spotted him. Next thing he knew, he was dragged further into the shadows and held up by his throat. He croaked out, "Hey, Gabriel! Fancy seeing you h-" The grip tightened and cut his air supply off. The one thing about his human body that he hated was how vulnerable it was.
"Leave the baby alone. He will not be swayed by the likes of you, Belial."
Belial couldn't respond. The figure, Archangel Gabriel, realized this and let go of his throat, but still stayed close, making sure Belial couldn't escape. Belial straightened up after catching his breath and fixed his tie. "Well, we'll see about that. I'm rather good at…tempting people," he said, sounding slightly hoarse. "And, you know, it's just orders. You don't have to strangle me for it."
Gabriel looked slightly embarrassed at this and took a step backwards. He considered these words and said, with a tinge of apology, "Actually, I think I do. You know, prevent evil and all that." He paused, and then sighed. "Well, it's not like you're doing much right now anyways." He then turned to study the house across the street.
Belial took this moment to study the Archangel. He was slightly taller than Belial himself, feminine features, and had waist length blond hair that covered the most hideous suit Belial had ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on. It was an ill fitting white suit, with pink trim and a bunny on one of the pockets. It was tweed. Belial didn't even know tweed came in the colour white. He was about to ask the origins of this monstrosity, when Gabriel let out a gasp and ran across the street.
Belial, curious as to what got the angel so excited, followed him, albeit at a more sedate pace. He saw Gabriel lift the bundle off the doorstep and coo softly to it. He just stared for a few seconds and then decided to ask, "Hey, uh, Gabriel? You know that Harry isn't actually supposed to know you're there? I mean, if you're orders are similar to mine, then you are to only to subtly lead him to your side, not –are you humming the Sailor Moon theme song?" Belial stared at the angel incredulously.
Gabriel stopped and blushed. "Well, you see, I thought music would comfort the poor dear and it's the only thing that popped in my mind." Belial was still staring at him. "Uh, it's just that I was watching the series the other day and I guess it just stuck in my head. You know, songs do that occasionally, though they're mostly of a more, ahem, holy sort. Well, for me. I don't know what kind of demonic songs get stuck in your head- Would you stop looking at me like that?" Gabriel was unnerved by Belial's stare. Belial, on the other hand, was remembering just how much Gabriel babbled before the Fall and realised that the angel hadn't changed a bit. Except for watching television shows. That was new. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and pointed at the bundle. "You can't keep him."
Gabriel rolled his eyes. "I know that. It doesn't mean that I can't hold him right now. I'll put Harry back; I just wanted to make sure he's alright. Imagine! Just leaving the poor thing out here where he could catch a chill! When I see Albus Dumbledore, he is going to get a stern talking to."
It was Belial's turn to roll his eyes. "Alright! Alright. I'm just trying to keep my own ass out of the fire. I'd be in deep shit if I let an angel kidnap the-" He was cut off by Gabriel clutching Harry closer and hissing, "Language! You are in the presence of a child!" Belial narrowed his eyes, "You do know that he is just a baby and can't understand what I'm saying, right? Not only that, but he's sleeping!"
With the exception of shooting him a glare, Gabriel didn't reply to this. His features then softened as he looked down at the bundle in his arms. Belial felt his annoyance melt away at that loving look in the angel's eyes. It's not often a demon got to see such a look, even though it wasn't directed at him. He suddenly fought down the urge to try and grope the angel, because he really did not want to be smote right now.
He sighed and leaned against the wall and thought of how none of the other demons had to deal with this. Why was he always getting the menial tasks? He used to be Prince of Hell for G- Someone's sake! Of course, he was demoted since then. Apparently his work ethic was horrible. He doesn't really care about the ranking system, considering ambition is against his very slothful nature. He just really hates it when Beelzebub makes him do shit like this. Not that he does not like earth, but he'd rather spend it tempting people into bed with him than watch over an infant with an insane angel. Not that Gabriel had been part of his orders, but Belial knew he wasn't powerful enough to get rid of Gabriel and he didn't feel like explaining to Beelzebub that he needed a new body because he got his ass kicked by the Messenger of the Lord.
Gabriel sighed and placed Harry back on the doorstop. He straightened up and looked at his, er, companion. Belial was dressed in a tailor-made black suit and tie. He had styled black hair and plain blue eyes. His face was currently twisted in an expression that could be best described as annoyed. Wondering what could bother the demon, Gabriel realised that he never even attempted to smite him, and had only threatened him a little bit. Now that he thought about it, Belial seemed rather…okay…for a demon. Struck with a thought, he cleared his throat to get said demon's attention. Belial looked at him, waiting, but Gabriel didn't say anything, baffled on how to approach the subject. There was an awkward silence, which was only broken when Gabriel, desperate, looked down at Harry. Harry, of course, didn't offer any help, but it still gave Gabriel an opening. "The boy looks very comfortable in his bundle. Er…It'll be dawn soon. The boy won't be out here very much longer. I, er, well. I have time before I have to report Upstairs." Here he hesitated. "I hear that there is some sort of food place that is open twenty-four hours near here. Do you, er." He stopped again.
Belial felt a tug at the corners of his mouth. He couldn't help himself. He sidled closer to the angel and said, in a low voice, "Gabriel, are you asking me out on a date?" The angel immediately started to sputter, "No! That's not what I meant at all! I didn't even –that's absurd." He narrowed his eyes, a red tinge on his cheeks. "You –you demon! I meant only that we could get some food!" Belial just shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. He turned and started to walk down the street. Gabriel paused, looking at Belial in surprise. "Hey! Is that a yes?" No response. "You don't even know where the place is!" Belial kept walking. Gabriel hesitated again, sighed, and then started to follow him. Realising that Belial was already way ahead, he snapped, "The least you could do is wait!"
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There was a roar and a splat. That was the sixth imp Moloch had squashed in the past few hours. Beelzebub was impressed. Lucifer was not. He cleared his throat loudly and was satisfied when Moloch turned and, reluctantly, made his way back to his seat. "Now, Moloch, that temper of yours will be the end of my Legion if you keep doing that. I know you're angry, but we can be perfectly civilised about this." Personally, he felt like doing some damage himself. That snake bastard ruined his plans and pissed him off. Luckily for Lord Voldemort, the Morning Star was adaptable and knew how to work situations to his advantage. Also, he had self control unlike others in his Legion.
He, Beelzebub, Moloch, and Mammon were all seated around an elegant table that one would find in a conference meeting between rich businessmen. Lucifer really liked that table. Hopefully, the imp sludge wouldn't stain it. "Beelzebub, has Belial confirmed the boy's location at Privet Drive?" At his nod, Lucifer continued. "Tom Riddle has made his move. However, we do not need to seek him out and torture him for all eternity." He smirked at the looks he received. "A rare reaction, I know, but he will be useful in the upcoming…events. Riddle did not, and still does not know about the nature of Harry's existence, which of course does not excuse him. However, this lack of knowledge will leave the boy at an advantage when Riddle goes after him again."
Mammon spoke up then, his deep voice filling the chamber, "Lord Satan, Riddle represents all that is evil in the magical world. When Harry learns what happened to his parents, he will undoubtedly choose the opposite side. How can we gain from this?" Lucifer smirked. "Harry is an orphan now and has lost the only security he had. He is going to grow up in a household that hates him. He is going to go to a school where he is famous for killing their own devil," here his lips quirked at the irony, "and consequently isolating him from his peers. No matter how hard Harry tries, he cannot go against his very nature. By the time he comes of age, and therefore full power, he will choose our side. The winning side." Lucifer's eyes glinted dangerously. "And if Heaven thinks they can sway my boy to theirs, well, then they've got another thing coming."
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The young healer dressed in white moved gracefully between the masses. Shouts of victory filled the air in St. Mungo's Hospital. The patients, visitors, and healers were all celebrating the downfall of Lord Voldemort, except for him. No, he was very interested in the old woman upstairs in one of the long term wards. He silently made his way through the noisy halls until he reached her room. Opening the door, he peered into the darkened area. She was sleeping. He stepped closer to her bed, a torch alighting automatically. He leaned over her. Placing a hand gently, almost lovingly, on her shoulder, he woke her up. She gasped in surprise and he moved slightly backwards, a concerned frown on his face.
The woman slowly sat up, in obvious pain, and said to the young man, "Sorry, dearie, you startled me. Is it time to check me again?" He shook his head and then smiled reassuringly. "No, ma'am. I was just concerned for your health. Cancer is a hard disease to fight." The old woman looked frail and on the verge of death, but gave him a stubborn look. Yes, this one was definitely a fighter. He almost shivered in delight. He loved a challenge. "Young man, I have been through much harder things. I've made it through the war! I am not going to let some muggle disease be the end of me. I will get through this!" She had to stop her speech there, for coughs suddenly wracked her body. It went on for a few minutes and tears gathered in her eyes. He leaned down and took her shaking hand in hers. A smile lit his face. This smile was usually used by doctors and healers alike when they told a patient they're going to be okay. For some reason, that smile on him was unsettling. His head tilted slightly and he whispered, "No, ma'am. Sorry, but you won't."
Minutes later, the healer in white was imagining a crown upon his head and humming softly to himself. He loves to watch the life slowly fading from their eyes, until only an empty shell is left.
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The old, dour-looking man sat miserably sipping his fire-whiskey as the party raged on around him. One of the partiers, an obviously intoxicated man with scraggly ginger hair, sat down beside him. He had bloodshot eyes and smelled like alcohol and tobacco. This contrasted greatly to the man beside him who looked like an experienced general who was dressed in a deep red uniform. The drunken man spoke up and said, "H-Hey, mishter! Wu-Why the long faash? He who-who mush not be named ish dead!" The man obviously thought that this statement would receive a positive reaction, but the old guy just continued to drink. The man continued, leaning in more. "Y-Yah know, thish means th-that the waar ish ovar!"
This got a sigh from the elder, and he said glumly, in a deep voice, "I know. That's the problem." However, the drunken guy was not paying attention and was staring at him with only the intense concentration that a person that was completely bent could achieve. "Mishter. Yah gotsha preddy good shcar there, huh?" He tried to point to the man's eye, where there looked to be a scar that ran right down the side of his face, but instead pointed somewhere near the man's chest. The man irritably slapped the finger away, but seemed a little happier about the topic of disfigurement. "Ah, yes. I received it in the Battle of Stalingrad. You wizards might even know of it. I killed the man that did it of course, and I can get rid of it any time I want, but I had so much fun at that battle that I keep it as a fond memento."
He flashed the drunkard a nasty grin and downed the rest of his fire-whiskey. He grabbed a cane that was leaning next to him and gave the younger guy a mocking salute. "Well, it was a pleasure talking with you, but I'm needed elsewhere. Though, I'm sure I'll see the wizarding world again soon enough. Adieu," and with that, the man disappeared out the door. He was surprisingly fast for an old man. The other, one Mundungus Fletcher, through the alcohol-induced haze, realised that there was something familiar and off-putting about the man, but couldn't straighten out his thoughts well enough to figure out what. By the next morning, he had completely forgotten about the encounter and, unsurprisingly, the rest of the night as well.
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The model was in her personal dressing room playing with a set of scales when her agent burst into the room. "Miss Black, one of the ladies, Jesse, called in sick and you've been bumped up an hour. Hurry! Get ready!" The woman, Miss Black, set down the scales on her dresser and shot the manager a devious smirk, not worried about the rearranged schedule. "Jesse, huh? I bet she has a major hangover." At the agent's confused expression, she clarified. "That girl was up all night celebrating with some weird robe-wearing losers. Hah! That's what she gets for not inviting me."
Her agent sighed and just said, "Well, it doesn't matter. What matters is they have to fit you in a totally new outfit because Jesse was a few sizes bigger than you are." He motioned towards the open door, "And if we don't go now, darling, then Brenda's going to throw a big, melodramatic hissy fit." Miss Black got up, stretched, and started walking in the direction the agent gestured. "She doesn't like me anyways. I think she's just jealous." Her eyes twinkled in amusement. The agent sighed, not arguing. Because it was true. Everyone was jealous of Miss Black. She was so skinny; there were barely any muscles on her bones at all. Yet…she made what should look unhealthy and skeletal, absolutely enchanting. Absolutely beautiful. This inspired admiration, but mostly jealousy. This jealousy inspired eating disorders and other such problems. Other models would cut their diet until they weren't eating at all, just to keep up with Miss Black. They literally starved themselves to be like her.
She twisted a slender finger into her long, black hair as she hummed a melody through her ruby red lips. The agent completely forgot what he was thinking about and slapped her hand away from her hair. "What do you think you're doing? We don't have time for the stylist to redo your hair!" She just smirked at him and continued down the hall.
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Two figures watched, invisible to human eyes, as Vernon and Petunia Dursley screamed at one another. Adding to the noise were two crying infants, one in Petunia's arms and the other on the sofa. A parchment letter lay on the table between them, ignored, but not forgotten. One of the unseen figures shook her head in despair; her bright green eyes were filled with unshed tears. "My poor baby. I-I protected him the best I could, but I just wish-" Her voice cracked. The figure beside her was silent, but awkwardly laid a bony hand on her shoulder in an attempt at comfort. She turned to him. "Thank you, for letting me linger so long. For letting me say goodbye." The hooded being shrugged and replied in a voice that was not so much heard by ears, but one that resonated in a person's head, "I am Everywhere." This wasn't a clear reply, but seemed to be the only one she was going to get. She moved to the bundle on the couch and laid a hand on top of it. Harry quieted immediately and stared up at her. This went unnoticed by the Dursleys, but surprise flitted across the woman's face. "He can see me?"
"Of course, Lily Evans. He perceives more than a human because he is more than a human."
Lily's face twisted. Anger flashed in her eyes and one could see the strong, stubborn woman who had died for her son. "He is my boy. He is a Potter. You'll see. Harry will make his own path and no one, good or evil, will stop him." The black clad figure was quiet, then said softly, in a slightly amused tone, "Lily Evans-" he stopped, seeing her look, then continued, even more amused, "Lily Potter, if the boy is even half as courageous and human as you, neither Heaven nor Hell will be able to stop him." His words seemed to placate her as anger faded away to be replaced by a bittersweet tenderness. She leaned over her baby and kissed him softly. "Goodbye, Harry." Her heart shattered. I love you.
She stood up and, without taking her eyes off her son, addressed Death with the strength that only a mother can possess. "I'm ready." He didn't answer. No more words needed to be said. He gently, tenderly, reached out and took her soul. He folded it neatly and placed it into his robes. Then, only to the eyes of a baby boy, he vanished from the room.
The only trace of his presence was a lingering whisper that hid away in the subconscious, one that contained a simple, yet powerful message: Come and see.
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A.N.: So there it is. My first chapter of my first fanfic. I would love many reviews. Please guys?
About this story: I have a feeling this plot has already been done a million times, but I just had to write it. It just would not. Leave. Me. Alone. So basically, this story is set in an alternate universe where Harry is the antichrist and it will go through his time growing up, his time at Hogwarts, end of the world, etc. No, I have not figured out where I'm going to go with this; I am a very poor planner. Also, I know this chapter was filled with non-canon characters, but I assure you that I want this to focus on Harry. I think this was more like a prologue than an actual first chapter. I just realised that I portrayed Gabriel totally different to how I actually planned him out. And the Sailor Moon thing? I don't even know where it came from. Can you imagine it though? Sailor Gabriel! It amuses me. XD
EDIT: I just realised that the name "Miss Black" could be interpreted to be Bellatrix. However, Miss Black is not the same person as the insane Death Eater. Sorry.