X-Men: Apophis' Revenge
Disclaimer/Plot/Author's Note: SEE FIRST CHAPTER
Dedication: I'd like to dedicate this story to my good friend JustBored21 for helping to inspire me to write this story: my recommended reads are Dark Lord Potter, Damaged Raven and Wands and Claws by JustBored21, Revenant by Quatermass, Weapons of Dark and Light by Noyoki, Harry Potter: Lord of Darkness by AngelSlayer135, Shattering the Mirror by arturus, A Freak Like Me by GeminiCancer, Mutant Storm by Bobmin356, Kill me if you can by PercyPendragon3, The Downward Spiral Saga by BolshevikMuppet99, This Is My Father's World by GenkaiFan and The Mind Arts by Wu Gang
Key Pairing: Harry/Gabrielle
Other Pairings: Psylocke/Archangel; Others TBD
Normal Speech
'Thoughts'
'Telepathy'
/Parseltongue/
Review Answers:
HughJasz: I admit, it might seem weird, but, as this chapter reminds you, Harry's powers weren't the only thing augmented and improved upon by Apocalypse;
JustBored21: I hope you enjoy the rest as much, my friend: oh, and I sent you a PM answering your question too;
"Father, tell me: what can I do? I am ready to serve you."
Nobody, not even the child knew it that day, but that was the day that little Harry James Potter's fate was changed…forever!
In ways that no witch, wizard or mutant was going to find enjoyable…
Chapter 2: Guardian Angel of Darkness
Harry James Potter was a strange little boy.
Or rather, that was what the fickle minds of the men, women and children who lived in Little Whinging had been led to believe in so short a time.
The fact that this enigma had turned up out of nowhere – apparently having been dumped on us by his freakishly-alcoholic wasters of a family, as the Dursleys of Number Four, Privet Drive told anyone who would listen – only fuelled the strangeness.
However, in less than two years, the strange reputation acquired by the toddler only grew thanks to his inability to go outside and play with other kids, or how he was not well whenever his morbidly-obese cousin Dudley was invited on playdates.
Then there was how the Dursleys seemed content to inform the local nursery that Harry had contagious diseases that would be easily passed onto other kids – while their family had been given precautions that were, regrettably, expensive and only provided enough for the three of them.
The fact that the people of Privet Drive believed this, much less anyone else in Little Whinging, and didn't raise red flags was just another testimony to how naïve and fickle they were.
Either that or some outside party was interfering and ensuring nobody asked questions they couldn't answer.
In the meantime, the people on Privet Drive seemed content to block out the screams of an unfortunately-clumsy child whom his family couldn't even get to use the toilet by himself; must be because of how his Mother drank when she was pregnant with him – again, excuses made by the Dursleys whenever anyone asked – as, behind closed doors and twitching curtains, the little boy lived a life that was, in a word, hell.
He got very little to eat, had clothes forced on him that would have probably fit a teenager and didn't even have training pants or kids' briefs to help him learn to control his bladder. Instead, he was screamed at, smacked red raw and nearly-deafened by the tones used by his Aunt and Uncle when they caught him being a dirty, disgusting little freeloader.
Even when Harry really was sick, namely with a winter cold, as well as a bad case of dysentery from the dirty water and spoilt food he was allowed to eat when he was good, the Dursleys blamed him, locked him in his cupboard under the stairs and, on more than one occasion, Vernon Dursley often crowed that he hoped you died, you little monster.
For nearly two years, this became the norm for Harry, who often spent many nights wishing he could get away, be free of his relatives and never be hurt again.
Then the blue man had come…
Apophis
When the blue man came, Harry hadn't been able to understand just how dangerous a being he was, much less how the man might do him harm.
As a result, he was left begging for the man not to hurt him, hoping that the pain that the blue man gave him, if he did hurt him, wouldn't hurt him as badly as Sir – as he was told to call his Uncle – and Miss – as he was told to call his Aunt – would hurt him when he was a naughty boy.
Then, the blue man called him son, which had caused Harry's childlike mind to wonder if this strange blue man was his Daddy, since only a daddy would call a boy their son, just like Master – as he was told to call Dudley – would call Sir. And, to his infantile glee, the blue man had responded in the positive, identifying himself as Harry's Daddy, though not before his eyes had changed into a funny colour.
When his eyes did that, turning into a colour that made the little boy think of milk, Harry Potter's life was changed forever; first, he felt his little body growing strong again, as every punishment given to him by Sir…no!
Not Sir…no, that…that thing was…was related to him.
As he came to that revelation all on his own, Harry felt any and all ties to his…his relatives become completely obsolete.
At the same time, Harry's mind seemed to expand from the inside, flooding him with new knowledge and information that, although he didn't yet realise it, also matured him, allowing him to speak to…to his Father, as though he was a much-older boy who was able to look after himself.
Then, just as Harry felt his mind growing stronger, as did his body, so too did something else become stronger; some deep, dark, unknown power that, until that moment, seemed to have been locked away inside of him.
Well now, thanks to his Father, Harry could feel that power light up inside of him, like a warm bonfire or a hot bath after playing out in the snow all day. The full fury of this unknown power also flowed through him like water, making Harry feel even stronger as he looked up at his Father before he spoke to him in his new voice.
"Father, tell me: what can I do? I am ready to serve you."
In response, his Father held out a hand to the small child, nodding once as he responded to his new protégé's question;
"Then come with me, my son…your destiny awaits…"
Apophis
To Harry's surprise, his destiny began in a strange, dark space that reminded him of his cupboard under the stairs, only much larger and, despite the sadness and pain from the cupboard, Harry was also surprised to find an air of comfort surrounding him as he stood in the darkness with his Father and the two ladies with them.
At the same time, a loud, strangely-catchy song filled Harry's ears as he looked around the dark space, though, before he could ask where they were, the little boy heard a new voice speak in a language he couldn't understand.
Seconds later, the same voice added, "…or should I say piss off?"
"You dare…" Harry snarled, stepping forwards to challenge the threat that dared to insult his Father; however, before he could get closer, he was stopped by Father, who shook his head slowly as he looked to the source of the voice.
"No, my Son…like you, this one is lost…but not for long…"
Maybe it was the comparison to his own situation, or maybe it was because Father had told him to stay back, but Harry found himself obeying Father's will, even as one of the two ladies stepped forwards before she asked, "This is the guy?"
"He used to be," replied the other lady, her voice filled with disappointment, "I didn't know his wings were…"
"Wings?" asked Harry, looking in the same direction as Father and the ladies.
When he did so, he saw the owner of the voice had made his presence known; to Harry's surprise, the one who'd challenged Father was a young man with light-blonde hair and darkest-blue eyes that seemed to be ringed with redness, much like Vernon's had been after too much of his special drink; the young man was naked from the waist up, exposing a strong, muscled frame that might have been called handsome, although, at that moment, Harry was more-alarmed, if not stunned, at the sight of the wings that the purple-haired lady had mentioned.
Mostly because they were actual wings; white-feathered appendages that extended from the back of the young man above them; however, what made Harry even-more surprised was the fact that these wings were broken in certain places, their feathers moulting, dropping to the floor as though the wings were dead. The disjointed look of the wings definitely looked like they hurt the blonde man and, as Harry looked up at him, he heard Purple Hair speak again.
"Let's get out of here, his fighting days are done."
"No, they're not," replied Father, earning a hopeful look from Harry, even as the winged boy clumsily flew off of the rafters above them, landing with a drunken stumble as he looked to each of the four before him.
"What the hell is this?"
For a long time, the man's eyes looked to Father, White Hair and Purple Hair, but, when his eyes settled on Harry, he seemed most-shocked of all as he stared deep into Harry's eyes. At the same time, Harry was unaware of his own eyes flashing gold, just like how Father's turned white when he'd helped make Harry into a real boy with real power and real strength of mind and spirit, all of which reflected themselves in the little boy's eyes.
As the two boys locked eyes, Harry didn't notice Father eyeing him with a mixture of suspicion and amazement, even as he returned his attention to the young man before him as he told him, "I want to give you something."
"What?" asked the blonde man, his voice now distant and softer than it had been before, almost like he had become ensnared in a dreamlike state, which seemed to become lost in the golden-eyed glow from Harry's eyes.
"A gift," replied Father, his gaze once again flickering to Harry, who seemed to be smiling at their newest companion with a mixture of pride and liking, both of which gave the pseudo-immortal mutant an idea; one he put into effect almost-immediately, as though he was testing a theory. "With it, you will become something greater than you ever were, my son…and with this greatness, you shall become a mighty warrior, standing at the side of my child as he makes this world his own."
"So," said the blonde, his eyes almost-hardening in their sockets as he finally looked away from Harry to the amused expression on the face of Father, as he asked, "You're saying, if I accept your gift, I can use it? For him?"
He indicated Harry, who seemed more-amused by the man's response, even as Father nodded once, "Yes, my son…for him."
"He seems so different," muttered White Hair, even as the blonde looked back to Harry before he lowered himself down, wincing in pain as he extended his wings as far as they would go, even as he kneeled before the boy-prince and heir of the aptly-named En Sabah Nur – or, as Harry would later learn he was also called, Apocalypse.
"Then, for him, I accept."
"Wise choice…my Angel…"
With that, Apocalypse held out one hand, his eyes turning white in their sockets once more as, once again, he began augmenting the power of his newest disciple…
His newest horseman, you might even be forgiven for saying.
As for the angel, he seemed to surprise both White Hair – aka Storm – and Purple Hair – aka Psylocke – as he remained still, silent and focused only on his desire to serve the Heir of Apocalypse as his body was transformed into a truly-dangerous weapon; his white wings seemed to become hardened, metallic, razor-sharp knives that could be launched from the wing membranes at a moment's command, as well as becoming so sharp that, together, they were like swords cutting through the air.
A fact that Angel then showed as he rose up with the completion of his ascension, extending his new wings to their full length as he launched several of the 'feathers' at the walls on either side.
While Apocalypse seemed amused, however, it was Harry who stepped forwards, much to the pride of the pseudo-immortal as he watched his Son take Angel's hand, like the young child he was, seeking protection and care from an elder sibling, before he looked up at the blonde.
"No, Father, not Angel…Archangel!"
"I agree, my Son," said Apocalypse, watching with dark pride as the now-named Archangel bowed down to his Son and Heir, his wings folded in submission as he pledged himself to the future of man and mutant.
Though not before Archangel looked up at Harry with a cooler expression than before as he smiled at him.
"I am yours, my Prince…both as Archangel and the young man I once was: Warren Worthington III, Son of Kathryn Worthington and Lucius Malfoy!"
Chapter 2 and the strangeness continues: Harry seems to have discovered some unknown new powers, but, at the same time, he's found a gift for drawing in others, including Archangel: what other secrets lie in wait for the Heir of Apocalypse?
Also…WTF?
Archangel is Lucius Malfoy's Son?
Does that mean he recognises Harry for who they think he is?
Could that have anything to do with his choice to serve his new Prince?
Keep Reading to Find Out
Next Chapter: A certain Master of Magnetism is given a very enticing offer, as well as a taste of real power that makes him truly the Master;
Please Read and Review
AN: Archangel
So, I know this might seem like a bad idea, but I decided to use it for a bit of fun when Harry returns to the Magical World later-on.
Also, weirdly, at least where X-Men Apocalypse's Archangel is concerned: I couldn't help but look at him and think Malfoy – sort of like some probably thought Pyro was Malfoy-esque in X-Men: The Last Stand – so I decided to put that into effect here in the story. I imagine Lucius was probably only a teenager himself when he became a Father to a bastard who also turned out to be a mutant.
No wonder Archangel's alone, huh?
Anyway, hope you liked this little titbit, and any others that are still to come…
(Oh, and before anyone asks, no, I'm not going to have Pyro as another Malfoy)