Title

Sanctified

Author

Sar'Kalu

Summary

AU. Extremely Religious. Trigger Warnings. What would happen if Harry knew God? If Harry turned his back on the Wizarding World? If Harry walked among Angels and Demons, Hunters, Vampires and Werewolves. Who would Live? Who would Die? And would Harry be Harry if he had no Magic at all?

Disclaimer

Harry Potter is the intellectual property of J. K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and Warner Brothers and their affiliated. Supernatural is the intellectual property of Eric Kripke and Kripke Enterprises and their affiliates.

Rating

M: violence, explicit sexual acts and blood and gore. References to abuse and sexual abuse.

...

Chapter Two

Saint Michael, The Archangel, Defend Us In Battle

The man, dressed as he was in pointed boots and long robes of silver stars on a midnight field, made his way down Privet Drive, taking not of the boring monotony that had not changed over the past ten years. It was noon and he hoped that the family he was visiting with would be home, his friend Hagrid had told him of their reluctance to let the youth attend his school. Apparently he had made a mistake, believing these people to be the safest alternative to others of his world.

Making his way down the tiny stone pathway, ignoring the incredulous eyes of the neighbours and taking in the sight of a mud spattered SUV that sat in the driveway, Albus Dumbledore raised a thin, bony hand and rapped on the immaculate white door way, his half-moon glasses visible in the shiny surface of the number '4' set in the middle of the door. The door knob turned and a tall thin woman with a pinched eyes and a sour-looking mouth stood in the doorway.

"I was wondering when you would arrive," she hissed waspishly, stepping aside reluctantly and allowing Albus to step through. "Perhaps you can talk my son and the freak from attending Seminary school."

Albus blinked in surprise, of all the people in this house he would have thought that Petunia Dursley would have been the most religious. "Lead me to them and I will try my best," he agreed slowly, feeling off kilter as he followed the woman down the hall and into the kitchen.

Two boys sat at the table, similar in build and height; one with dark hair and luminous green eyes and the other with golden blonde hair and sky blue eyes. Albus nodded to them as Petunia introduce them to each other and as Harry leant backwards, smiling gently while maintaining an aura that Albus'd had to work the past fifty years at, Albus could see the black spine of a leather bound book bearing golden letters reading: The Holy Bible.

Albus sat across from both boys and smiled slightly, his lips twitching beneath is long white beard as his fingers laced together in prayer form beneath his chin. Blue eyes met green and he took in the seriousness of Harry Potter's gaze and knew that there was nothing he could do to sway the boy from his faith, but perhaps he could sway the child into his fold. Dudley, for that could only be the blonde boys name, was watching this interaction with dark eyes, determinedly sitting beside his cousin despite his mothers attempts to chivvy him into the lounge and in front of the TV.

"Good Morning, Professor," Harry greeted him, his green eyes sharp and knowing. "What brings you here?"

Somehow, Albus knew that the boy knew why he was there, he was just asking to be polite. Albus hummed slightly, considering his approach. "I am here to see if you won't reconsider your refusal to join my school," Albus finally admitted, deciding to be straight with the dark haired boy. This was not a pawn on a chess board or one of his political opponents to be manoeuvred as he willed, but rather an intelligent child who lived by Gods rules; a God he himself once worshipped before learning that God didn't care for his magical children. That he had forsaken them long ago.

"I have not," Harry denied softly and almost apologetically. "In three days Uncle will drive me to the seminary whereupon I will begin my life as a Man of the Cloth, in Service to the Creator. I understand that you wish me to rejoin Wizarding society but know that I cannot."

Albus sighed tiredly, "if you will not return then you must let me bind your magic, we cannot have you revealing us to the outside world. Neither we or they are ready for such things. It would surely destroy us."

Harry smiled kindly, "I think you will find this unnecessary, but I give you my permission in any case."

Albus nodded once, shortly and sharply, before standing and making his way to Harry side, ignoring Petunia's wrath filled glare. She did not approve of this wizard, she did not approve of his inability to change her sons mind, she did not approve of Harry's devotion to a God who had stolen her life and love away from her. Petunia Dursley had once been a devoted Anglican, her hazel eyes turned upwards in awe and joy, but circumstance had rooted her feet to the ground, stealing her devotion, her joy from her breath and souring her heart towards the Lord. This her son and nephew knew but neither knew a way to heal her as she had healed them of their childhood bruises, colds and broken bones.

Albus lay a hand on Harry Potter's forehead and extended a tendril of magic into his mind, his body and his soul and was stunned. Aged hands shook as youthful hands took them and Harry smiled up at him. Albus sank to his knees, bowing his head, tears streaming from his eyes as he accepted Harry's wordless benediction of forgiveness and guidance. Leaning against the kitchen benches, Petunia witnessed a lost Son of God be returned to the fold with a single touch of her nephews hand, her sons resting upon his, and knew, in that moment, that there was nothing she could so to sway them from their paths. In that moment, Petunia Dursley's heart shattered a little more. In that moment, Harry Potter understood what it meant to Bless and Love another on behalf of his Lord God. In that moment, Dudley Dursley felt his cousins true power and dedicated himself to his cousins cause, selflessly and uninhibitedly.

And in that moment, Albus Dumbledore refound his wavering faith after seventy long years and knew without doubt or hesitation that God did Love him and his people, that God had not forsaken them for their sins but instead awaited their return with open arms and kind compassion. And Albus Dumbledore wept tears of remorse, cleansing his soul of of sin and guilt for the first time in his long, long life.

…

…

Minerva McGonagall was a god-fearing woman of the Anglican denomination. Her stern demeanour hid a certainty and kindness born of knowing that Christ had died for her sins and that when her time came, Dinael, the Angel of Teachers, would welcome her into Heaven with open arms. This confidence often made her a strict and fair teacher, for God had taught her to Love and care for her students and she did not care for boundaries or differences. In her mind, children were children and deserved to be treated a-same.

Yet, for all her faith and confidence, Minerva still doubted. How could she not when she read that witches were not to be suffered to live, that despite the advancing of the years her people were burned at the stake and slaughtered for their magical abilities. Humanity, she knew, was oft cruel and unkind, unhearing of their Fathers words teachings. Yet still she doubted and feared, wondering if her magic and who she was, would one day ensure her refusal at Heaven's doors, for Dinael to strip her of her faith and magic and send her to the Pit for punishment, for daring to darken Heaven's door, for daring to believe in a God that could not, or would not, Love her.

And then, on July 31st of the year 1991, Albus came to her, his eyes and body weary from visiting the young Mister Potter at his home in Surrey and all her questions were answered and relief and joy swept her doubts from her mind, lightening the burden that she was unaware of bearing. He entered her office with bowed shoulders and a weariness of one who has seen something not of this Earth, and she knew that something momentous had happened.

"Albus," she breathed, shocked and horrified by her employers state as she fluttered to her side and handed him a steaming cup of tea and took the seat beside him, staring into his wizened face with concern. "What has happened to you?" She asked, fearful for his life.

Albus startled her by smiling gently at her, a marked difference to the usual knowing tilt of his lips that he usually wore, as if he had a private joke she had no knowledge of. "I met our illustrious Mister Potter, Minerva," he stated quietly, sipping his tea and staring out the window behind her desk.

"How is he?" Minerva asked curiously, a thought struck her and fear flooded her: "Did you manage to convince him to join us this year?"

Albus smiled more widely, "he is so very well, Minerva. So kind, compassionate and his soul," Albus paused breathless as he closed his eyes, as if he were enfolded within a mothers hug. "His soul is beautiful."

"His soul?" Minerva worried, because you didn't look at another soul without permission. It was dangerous and potentially Dark. For Albus to look into Harry's soul was to see who Harry was in his entirety, flaws and virtues all. That kind of closeness changed a person for life and irretrievably.

"Yes, his soul," Albus agreed, still smiling. "Our Mister Potter is a Squib now," he stated, unconcerned. "He refused his place here…"

"And you bound his magic?" Minerva whispered, horrified.

Albus shook his head, meeting her eyes for the first time since sitting down. "No," he breathed, a beatific expression sliding across his face and shocking Minerva with its simplistic beauty. She had never seen Albus this at peace, not even when she had been his protégé at seventeen and entering her Transfiguration apprenticeship for the first time.

"Then what happened, Albus?" Minerva asked, fearful of the answer yet getting the increasing feeling that something… miraculous had happened in that tiny muggle house. Something that would… mean absolutely everything.

"God happened, Minerva," Albus replied with quiet reflection. "In young Harry's soul, I saw God. He saw me and He forgave me my sins, He gave me a second chance."

"God?" Minerva choked, a shaking hand pressing to her chest where her silver crucifix rested cold against her warm skin.

Albus nodded and Minerva realised, with blinding suddenness, that the reason behind Albus' beatific expression was the kind of serenity one feels whilst in Church and praying to God. A calmness borne of knowing that your Lord loves you, despite every stupid and foolish thing you have done.

"Harry Potter has found God, and in finding Him, has found so much more," Albus mused, his thumb stroking the edge of his cup. Albus dropped his gaze to the stone-cold tea in the bottom of the fragile mug, his eyes tracing the pattern of cracks in the porcelain, stained brown from dozens of cups of tea. "I will not ask him to come here," Albus finally stated, meeting Minerva's grey gaze with his own blue. "I will not take him from the world where he is so desperately needed. I cannot."

Minerva nodded in agreement, silently deciding to seek out young Mister Potter for a Blessing of her own. If he could change Albus from a meddling old man pretending to be calm and collected, to a man who had found inner-peace and serenity, well, that made him worth seeking out. As Albus once more left her office, Minerva McGonagall reflected on the unlikeliness of a wizards magic being transmuted into godly Grace and decided that the attack on the Potters that fateful Halloween had done more for Mister Harry Potter than could be quantified by humanity.

Nay, t'was more likely that Harry had always been this way, his magic tragically stolen from him at a young age, but now on the path towards being a helper and a Healer. A man of Faith, Love and Compassion. One of Gods true Children. And no matter how much she would love to see him here at Hogwarts, as a Child of Faith herself, Minerva knew that Harry's true place was at Gods side.

…

…

Harry had just turned fifteen when a man with white skin and red eyes arrived in the gardens of the Seminary where he lived and worked as a priest in training. The man was horrifying to look at, his eyes slit like a snakes and his features blended together in such a way as to suggest they had been melted together like wax. Harry gave no indication that the man terrified him, however, as the man was accompanied by Father Justin, a man on pious faith and a loathing for all things evil. That he couldn't see this mans true face indicated that witchcraft or devilry was at work here.

Harry set aside his book carefully and sat waiting for the Priest and snake-eyed man to reach him beneath his favourite willow tree beside the duck pond where swans, herons and, of course, ducks swam, fed and played. Father Justin paused just long enough to introduce the man as Mister Tom Riddle before leaving once more at a swift pace not entirely hiding his discomfort at being in the presence of a man who made his skin crawl.

Harry gestured for the devil-man to sit beside him, never quite meeting his gaze because ehe knew that if he saw into his soul he would be unable to hold back tears. The man beside him was so terribly broken, beyond even the demons that walked. His soul had been seared and torn, ripped from him and split into tiny pieces and spread across the United Kingdom.

Tom Riddle watched the priest-in-training with cunning red eyes, his true visage hidden behind a mask of magic and lies. "I never would have thought," he drawled with icy confidence. "That I would find Harry Potter hidden in a seminary living a life of leisure while his friends and family burn."

Harry felt a flicker of guilt in his heart, knowing that had he accepted his place in Hogwarts that the man beside him would not have been alive these past three years and wreaking havoc on the Wizarding World. Until the man had sought him out, there was nothing he could have done. Until Tom Riddle had stepped foot on sacred soil with false pretences, Harry would have had to stand by and leave him to his cruel subjugation of the magical world.

But now, Tom Riddle had made the foolish decision to enter this place of Sanctity, this House of Worship, and challenge Harry by forcing the other man to look him in the eyes and see his blackened, ruined soul for what it was. Ragged and ruined, there could be no redemption for this man and Harry was forced with the unpleasant decision to either try and forgive the man beside him or to send him into the Demon Alistair's arms. A decision that wasn't even truly a decision because Harry was not one to give up on humanity or to forsake his fellow man.

"No words, little priest?" Tom sneered cruelly, standing once more and towering over the seated teenager, unaware of the green eyed mans decision to save what was left of his soul.

"What would you have me say?" Harry asked the foul man before him, meeting those watery red eyes that shone like fresh spilled blood against his bone white skin that was more snake than man. "Could I say anything to you, Tom Riddle, that would change your mind about me?"

Tom blinked in surprise at the strangely melodic voice that Harry spoke with, it made him… feel, once again. Feel more than hatred and fear. Make him regret and desire forgiveness. It filled him rage to feel these things and he bared his teeth in anger and drew his bone white wand and pointed it at the priests heart in threat. "No," Tom agreed. "There is nothing you can say, you must die so that I might rule this Earth. Prepare to meet your God."

Harry met his fury filled gaze calmly, trusting in God to keep him safe, unaware of Father Justin's observance of their encounter, his gaze increasingly horrified as he watched, and when Tom drew his wand, Father Justin fled towards the Bishop that ran the seminary, hoping to save his friends life from the mad-man whom he had let into to this sacred place.

"None rule this Earth but for our Father, Tom," Harry stated with calm assurance. His faith unshakable, even in the face of his own impending death.

Tom Riddle snarled, feeling Harry's calm temperance wash over him like a tide, and hissed the two words that would snuff this mans life from his body. "Avada Kedavra!"

Harry smiled as the green light swept over him and settled into his bones, stealing his breath from his body and tugged him under. Above him, Tom watched as his green eyes turned dark, the light fading from their depths and his body falling sideways like a puppet who's strings have been cut. Tom laughed and pointed his wand up into the air, casting the foul curse that would mark his presence as the priests of this place spilled into the gardens in alarm.

...

Harry sat upright, his eyes taking in the cold white light of Haven around him and smiled in peace. He was not bitter that his life had been cut short by a mass murderer. He was not angry that God had taken him from Earth before his time. He was not going to rant and rail at the world for being unfair and unjust, because he believed none of these things. Harry knew that everything happened for a reason, and as a man in a white robe approached, he felt serenity wash over him and peace settle into his restless and mortal soul.

"Greetings, Harry Potter," the man said, reaching down and drawing Harry to his feet, a gentle smile on his lips. "My name is Joshua, and I am the Keeper of Eden and God's Gardens."

Harry bowed lowly to the angel, able to see the faint outlines of great auburn wings that spread from Joshua's back. "An honour to meet an Angel of the Lord," Harry stated, straightening once more.

Joshua laughed joyously, smiling beatifically. "As it is an honour to meet the Lord's chosen Voice on Earth," the Angel reached out and rested gentle hands on Harry's shoulders. "One day you will be known on Earth as you are in Heaven, Saint Harry, Patron of Forgiveness and Compassion, a true Son of God."

Harry shook his head in disbelief even as he knew Joshua's words to be true. Angels were incapable of lying, for them to do so meant they had Fallen or were Falling, and for a pure being such as Joshua to Fall would surely break his heart.

"Why am I here, Angel Joshua?" Harry asked quietly as Joshua released his shoulders and fell into step beside the Saintly Man.

"Just Joshua, please," the Angel said, smiling softly as he guided Harry through one of the Lesser of Gods Gardens. Only those who had truly died were permitted to step forth into Gods many Gardens, and of those, only those who had ascended were permitted into Eden.

"Joshua," Harry corrected himself as he helplessly paused by a great tree that shone in the golden light of Heaven and stared in utter awe at its presence. "Magnificent," he breathed, smiling widely. He reached up and trailed gentle fingers over the leaves that hung like a willows in strands, infusing his delight and Grace into each strand and smiled as the tree gratefully accepted his offering and grew stronger for it.

Joshua watched the Saint walk through the Garden and knew that when Harry truly died, he would be a Gardener as Joshua was, caring and loving each of their Father's creations unbidden and limitlessly. Smiling with gentle compassion, Joshua gently steered Harry to the edge of a pond and gestured him to seat himself on a stone bench much like one at the Seminary.

"You are here because the Lord has bidden it," Joshua said without preamble and Harry turned to meet Joshua's deep brown gaze and he smiled in gratitude. It was ever pleasing to know that what you did made your Father proud. "He has had Metatron write a list to be given to the Pope. On this list will be three dozen names of people to be canonised, yourself included."

"How will I be able to pass this List on?" Harry asked, confused. "Am I not dead?"

Joshua chuckled slightly, smiling widely at his companions innocent naïvety. "Not yet, our Father has determined that your Task is not yet over."

"Then I will do my utmost to gain audience of God's Vessel on Earth," Harry mused, wondering how a lowly priest such as he could ever gain the attention of such an august body.

Joshua smiled, "you will have aid from one of my Brothers."

"Such aid will be gratefully received," Harry admitted sheepishly. "After I have delivered the List, what then?"

Joshua hummed lightly, shifting his wings and smiling softly. "From Rome you will go to Blue Earth, Minnesota; a town that has a most dreadful problem and concerns our Lord with its false worship."

Harry nodded, "His will be done."

"We knew we could trust you," Joshua noted, pleased. "April 10, 2010; Blue Earth, Minnesota. Don't be late, for the lives of Innocents depend on it."

Harry awoke with a gasping breath, the dislocation of Heaven to Earth was disorientating, and he was staring up at the madly cackling Tom Riddle as he cast a bright bolt of light into the sky and twisted the thick cloud cover, that had not been there previously, into the figure of a skull swallowing a snake and knew the man in front of him to be a demon in human form.

Kindness and compassion could not rule here, Harry knew as he slowly stood, his body aching from its dislocation from living to dead and back to living once more. In front of him, Tom ceased his mad laughter, shock stealing over him as Harry staggered forwards and lay hands on his head, one on his forehead in a mockery of benediction, the other cradling the nape of his neck, preventing Tom from fleeing Harry's divine judgement.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," Harry stated, his voice stolen by God's Words. "You are hereby Judged as Demonic and Inhuman. You are sentenced to three thousand years in Hell which you shall spend upon Alistair's rack and know the truth of pain. You will receive no forgiveness nor Love from your fellows, you will find no subjugation but will be subjugated in turn. Leave now, and never come back!"

There was a flash of bright white light and above Harry the gathering of priests, bishops and decons could see one of the Lord's Angels, his four auburn wings spread above Harry like benediction, one hand resting on the youthful priests shoulder, the other overlapping Harry's on Tom's head as both Priest and Angel sent Tom Riddle to Hell on behalf of the Lord God.

And despite there being three dozen witnesses, not a single report made it to Rome for it was not yet time and Harry was not yet ready. God had gifted Harry unto Joshua for protection and so Joshua would protect the young Saint with every scrap of his Grace. There would be time enough for Harry's words to reach the Vatican, but it was not yet now.

So, while Harry learned and grew, and Bishop Jerome watched and waited for his youngest priests next miracle; the Angel Joshua watched over his young charge and cared for him as God had dictated.

…

A/N:

For my readers who wished to know what happened to Voldemort and how Dumbledore reacted to Harry's refusing to attend Hogwarts.

Thank you for all the lovely reviews, they are heartwarming to read as pretty much all of them have been very positive. I must admit to being worried that some readers would not like the way I'm presenting their religion, it being such a touchy topic, so I must extend my thanks for your forbearance and kindness.

Kind regards,

Sar'Kalu