Oneshot. Elements of Cthulhutech, Evangelion, and Aeon Natum Engel are readily apparent, but this is no crossover.
1972: Time-travelers openly reveal magic.
1973: In the confusion and panic, Voldemort takes over the Ministry of Magic
1976: Voldemort takes over Britain.
1977: Albus Dumbledore killed.
1980: James and Lily Potter killed, Harry Potter taken to Germany by Sirius Black who dies as a result of injuries sustained.
1981: Spanish wizards ally with Voldemort.
1982: First practical perpetual motion machine known as the Shiva Engine developed.
1983: Voldemort allies with the Soviet Union, Argentina, Spain, and China in what was later known as the Kremlin Pact. Poland, East Germany, and Ukraine withdraw from Warsaw Pact to join NATO. Yugoslavia severs ties and joins NATO. NATO become the Vatican League after a new agreement is drawn up and presided by Pope John Paul II in the Vatican. 2nd Cold War between Vatican League and London Pact begins.
1985: Arcanocybergenetic research leads to the first Angelos biological war machine.
1986: Angelos unit goes berserk at 1986 New York World Fair, killing dozens and wounding hundreds before detonating its Shiva Engine.
1987: Angelos units, under a new piloting system, declared safe.
1991: The present day.
xxx
A knock on the orphanage door, sharp. Harry James Potter looked up. He had just finished the homework on his slate, a combination of magic and computer science which projected the keyboard and display in three dimensions.
He looked to the stern figure of Sister Mary-Catherine, his surrogate mother for the past ten years –eleven today – who gave him a nod. He smiled at the traditional nun, who had taught him Latin the old way.
"Who is it?" he asked.
"Bundeswehr," said the voice, sharp and to the point.
Sister Mary-Catherine frowned and called for her assistant at the orphanage, Sister Amelia, who was a much younger woman with blonde hair. Sister Amelia only wore the headdress rather than the the full garb worn by Sister Mary-Catherine, who was a refugee from Britain, something which made their bond closer than that between him and the German Sister Amelia, who always called him Heinrich.
Sister Amelia came into the room with her usual graceful steps. After a short, whispered conversation, he was shooed away. Sister Amelia took him aside to make tea for the Bundeswehr man.
"Sister," he asked, "Why is the Bundeswehr man here?"
She ruffled his messy hair playfully before asking, "Can you keep a secret, Heinrich?"
Chest swelling with pride, he answered, "Yes, Sister Amelia."
She smiled.
"I know you take the confidence of others very seriously indeed, Heinrich, but I could be killed for telling you this."
"I'll keep mum," stated Harry, arms crossed.
"Sister Amelia! Where is the tea?" came the yell of Sister Mary-Catherine.
"Perhaps later, Heinrich. Now is not a good time."
"My name is Harry, Sister."
She simply smiled and answered, "But you will always be little Heinrich to me."
She then took the tea, which had finished in the meanwhile over to Sister Mary-Catherine and the man from the Bundeswehr. His voice pierced through everything like the steel of a sword.
"Please bring me the boy."
Though phrased as a request, it was an order. Harry dutifully came over. It was then that he got a good look at the man. His grey and black dress uniform was immaculately pressed. The peaked cover was on his head as he was armed with the pistol at his belt.
"Heinrich Keller," he said, offering a hand to Harry, who shook it. The man's grip was firm.
"Two Heinrichs getting off to such a good start, oh my!" exclaimed Sister Amelia, attempting to break some of the tension.
"Heinrich or 'Harry' Potter, you have been selected for the Angelos Project. I will return tomorrow at 6 o' clock sharp. Everything will be provided, but you may bring you slate."
It was all he could do to nod. Dinner that night was emotional, and tearful goodbyes were said.
xxx
It was a cold winter day. Snow was all around. It covered everything in a thing layer of white. The car was thankfully warm. Hauptman Heinrick Keller was a good driver. The floating Volkwagen made good time. At some point, Harry abruptly fell asleep. When he awoke, he found himself in a white chamber. DECONTAMINATIONROOM1 was stenciled in thick, black letters. A voice came through a speaker.
"Mr. Potter, remove your garments and place them in the shoot to your left."
Harry looked around and found the chute mentioned.
"All of them?" he asked.
"Yes. Think of it like taking a bath. This is to simply clean you off before we attempt Connection."
"Connection?"
"With the Angelos. You have been selected as an Angelos pilot. You see, Angelos units can only operate safely if they bond with a magical human under twelve years of age. Otherwise, they will go berserk and their will be another Shiva Incident."
Harry did as he was told, though scared by the prospect of stripping himself bare before complete strangers. What followed was like a washing machine, as he went through cycles of hot and cold water. Then he was air-dried by a powerful blast of wind. Were not for the strangeness, it might have actually been quite fun.
Something came to him from a dumb waiter contraption. He examined it, and found it to be a jumpsuit of a rubbery material. He put it on and found it to be too loose. Just as he was about to ask, it sealed to become near skintight except around the joints and groin.
A hermetically sealed door opened at the other side of the room. He walked through and met a woman holding an unlit cigarette. Her hair was dark and she wore a labcoat over a conservative grey skirt and blouse. Her nametag read "Doctor Ashcroft."
"Please follow me, Heinrich," she said.
"It's Harry, ma'am."
"Ah, British, you're going to love this..." she trailed off,
She then led him along. The suit was strange, some sort of occult device. It seemed to slither about like some sort of animal. It felt, oddly comforting nonetheless. He was lead to a dark room. With a clap, the lights came on and he saw the messenger of death in person.
It was hunched over with a head that blended into the shoulders. Plates of dull, ceramic armor covered its body like an insects exoskeleton. Four green eyes listlessly tracked his every move. From one long, apelike arm hung its rectangular C-beam projector, and from the other hung claws and machine guns. A pair of missile racks jutted out from the shoulders. EID-01-0N was painted onto one of the plate of armor covering its left torso.
Dr. Ashcroft snapped her fingers. The twelve-foot tall feat of arcanobiomechanical engineering knelt down on one knee before them, pulling the cables attached to it taut. With a hiss of compressed air, a hatch along the spinal cord slid open. Several technicians wheeled a ladder into place.
"This will be simple. The Angelos units will only accept one child with magical genes. They might reject a sample pilot, but there is only one way to try out. It shouldn't cause another Shiva Incident.
"A Shiva Incident?" asked Harry, shuddering, "You mean like at the World Fair?"
"What other Shiva Incidents are there, Harry?" she asked, exasperated, "Now climb in. You won't need any specialized controls. Your mind orders the mind of the Angelos which acts in your stead. You see, Angelos is the Koine Greek word for 'messenger.' Your messages are sent out to be effected upon the world by the unit itself. I find it quite fitting."
Harry swallowed and climbed in. It was damp and dark with no light. He sat down in a seat, which molded itself to his form. A liquid started to fill the chamber. It came up to his neck, and he tried to hold his breath as he was totally submerged. Eventually, he couldn't hold it any longer and released the air. The slimy, blood-smelling substance filled his lungs. To his surprise, Harry found himself able to breathe. It wasn't truly breath, but oxygen was being taken from his lungs and distributed throughout his body as it normally would.
Then came an apparition, a phantom from the blackness of the cockpit. Time and space seemed to have no meaning. It was now a man dancing.
Hello.
A hanged man.
"Hello," replied Harry.
A snake slithered around, tasting him.
You are different.
"Umm, how?"
A woman in a flowing gown.
The light of your being is not the same.
A stag.
A shadow.
A phantasmagoria of forms, some impossible to describe within the bounds of the human understanding.
Suddenly, vision. He but not him rose up. His arm rose up and he examined not his impossibly sharp claws. Muscles groups that he did not have cocked the pair of machine guns. Power from incomprehensible arcane sources rushed into his C-beam projector but his arm did not end in a cannon. There was a person, an ant in comparison to him, applauding slowly but wasn't she taller than him.
"Good job, Harry. Now break Connection."
He but not him nodded. Then he was again plunged it blackness as himself. Once more, the Angelos came to him.
Through the essence of that which is, I am called Eidolon.
Harry was in a dreamlike haze as he was pulled out.
xxx
It was a normal day for Hermione Granger. Arm upraised, she marched past the statue of Lord Voldemort as they did every morning. Then they sung praises to the greater glory of magic.
Classes proceeded usually. She was in a third-track school for magicals born to muggles. It was located near the English Channel. They started with a lesson about the founding of Hogwarts. They were taught of how Slytherin, though he had played the greatest role in its founding, had been driven out by the other founders. Everything was normal until the the brightness of a star flashed through the classroom.
Everything went white. Screams were all around. She slipped and fell on something sticky and ropelike. She wandered blindly, hearing the screams. Vision slowly returned and Hermione Granger saw a vision of hell. Half the classroom was simply gone in the way that only a Vatican League C-beam could bring about. Her hands were covered in blood and guts. She ran, ran down to the basement. They had drilled for this until it had become second nature. In the basement were Glory Vests. She ran, passing by a boy on whom she had a crush whose brains were splattered all over a wall.
She saw empty eye sockets dripping blood.
She smelled blood and offal.
In this vision of hell where not even innocence was spared, her limbs lost feeling and her heart lost its ability to feel. Mechanically she put on the Glory Vest. It would, when she pulled a cord, cast an a Killing Curse into her. However, the vest caught her soul and used the energy of a soul to destroy everything around in a perfect sphere of destruction. Such was the duty of Muggleborns like herself.
xxx
Muscles pulled down the triggers for the twin machine guns. One thing that the movies never showed was the ability of bullets to rip through structures to still kill and maim. He was with a platoon of infantry charged with taking this small beachhead. The initial shot of the glittering C-beam had gutted the building. Grenades and rifles smashed through, into the building. A rocket shot out from the building and he twisted to dodge it. A shot from the C-Beam slashed the space from which the trail of smoke had issued. It was then that things began to go to hell.
Children, schoolchildren staggered out. He thought they were surrendering. Then they ran up and black spheres of annihilation bloomed on the battlefield. In seconds, the entire platoon was gone. He fired the C-beam again and again. Harry did not want to die.
From the flaming wreckage, emerged one more. She was a girl around his age. Her hair was bushy, and she might have looked rather cute in any other circumstance. The C-beam projector was pointed at her head. She wore one of the despicable suicide vests. But she did not pull the cord to annihilate him
"Why?" he wondered.
And so they stood for some time, both unwilling to kill the other.
Mine.
Until Eidolon made the choice for him. Incredibly sharp claws ripped her apart before the remains were thrown into his and his mouth. Harry cried and puked in his dark little hole.
We have become Death, Destroyer of World, Harry. Let us go and spread the message to all who will heed with fire and sword. We shall bring the message called Death. Be happy, Young One, for you shall witness the choir of angels coming together to bring about the will of that which is.
Harry continued to cry as the Messenger of Death walked forth.