I couldn't find a perfect melody for this story for a long time. But now I have. I prefer to bind the tune with the writing, so if you're interested, Harry/Apocalypse's theme is 1492: Conquest of Paradise by Vangelis. I think most of you are familiar with it. The theme can tell a lot about the story. Enjoy!

Beta: Julie. fjad

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Chapter Sixteen

Supernatural

Slowly, he looked around the crystal city one more time.

How long had it taken for Atlantis to rise to its glory?

How much hard work was put into the city, and how many brilliant people had given their everything to bring Atlantis to its peak, and for what?

For everything to end like it always did.

Without anyone noticing, he was here, walking among the unsuspecting crowds, looking at everything without the membrane of lies obstructing the true essence of people. It did not matter what gods people believed in, they all believed in him. He had many names, from Armageddon to the Doomsday, but he preferred Apocalypse.

He was created to judge and execute. He was the destruction itself, and no other force was stronger or more powerful than him.

And still, every time he tried to help and restore the balance, not destroy everything with the power given to only him. And every time he failed.

Earth was his most favourite planet—after Saturn—and he didn't want it gone, he thought while walking among the last generation of Atlantis, in its last days, without the citizens knowing anything. Unaware he was going to unleash his powers on them in just a few days, unsuspecting citizens went on with their lives which only looked shiny, but were rotten on the inside.

It was a paradise for many, but for many more citizens, it was hell. Wars, crimes, and conceit of a perfect world built upon the blood of the innocent.

He had even allowed Severus to experience the last minutes of the famous Atlantis. Not many people had such a privilege, and he was sure Severus appreciated the gesture.

He showed Severus what would happen to Earth if the humans managed to break all the seals. If they managed to bring the planet to the brink of total destruction. If the Seven Seals—that he had selected himself, should he be reborn in his true form—were to fall, he would have to call for a countdown and evaluate the balance.

And judging by how fast the seals were being ripped apart, one after another, he was pretty sure by the end of this year at least two more would crack.

He was only eleven and three out of seven were already down.

Harry was him, and he was Harry.

The boy thought like him, had the same mimic and even had his green eyes and messy, black hair. His junior copy, born to Lily and James Potter, a human boy who had a chance at normal life. He had a chance to help people before Lord Voldemort had interfered.

The second the Killing Curse had left Voldemort's wand, he was back. The Dark Lord who wanted to live for eternity, single handily rolled the red carpet for the only power that could destroy not only wizards, but the whole world.

Apocalypse looked at the three thin cords he held in his left arm. Two red cords belonged to his two new comrades who still had no idea what had really happened, and the third cord, the blue one, belonged to Severus, whose good intentions managed to crack the third seal. He could have as many pals as he wanted, but he'd settle for four. His favourite number and the symbol of his chosen planet, Saturn, which, thanks to him, was associated with destruction.

And the humans did believe he had horsemen, so it would be fitting. He didn't know if he wanted to keep them all…Too crowded, even on Saturn...

No matter what others thought, he didn't enjoy his work. He hated turning magnificent creations into dust, erasing the whole era, vanishing everything that was achieved with hard work and genius imagination.

He preferred to live lives as flowers, birds, dolphins, and from time to time a human one. He had been everything there was to be—except a dinosaur, since he wiped them out for all the wrong reasons and then it would have been weird being a dinosaur when there were no others left—and he so did not want to kill over seven billion people.

If he was born as himself, that meant it couldn't be anything small, and the whole planet would have to be wiped clean for a new race to be born.

To then be destroyed again.

It was always the same, and with a bitter smile, Apocalypse looked at a perfectly dressed mother sweetly telling her child it was not a problem that she had ruined her new dress with buzzle-wuzzle, while thinking how she'd nail the child's hands to the wall for a few hours, when they would get home. Magic left no traces.

Shaking his head, Apocalypse glanced at the crystal glass to note his reflection. His green eyes were bright but solemn, his hair messy and his favourite cloak fastened with the stone of wisdom.

His sceptre was in his pocket, and he so did not want to activate the countdown on Earth, which would lead to the judgement moment, and he just knew that Earth would fall. Atlantis had no more chances left, and he had given more than enough time for people to change their lives. But like always, he had failed.

Atlantis was doomed, and he was afraid that Earth as he knew it in the 21th century would follow shortly.

The balance would be off, and possibly irreversible without restoring it to zero. And then Gabriel and Lucifer could start again, competing who would win.

Atlantis was divided—all the citizens of the upper Atlantis belonged Lucifer, and from the underground slave section most went to Gabriel.

It was like a carousel that didn't stop spinning, and he couldn't get off. He tried to run away from his duties, but it was not possible.

"Cali, my lovely child, what is bothering you?"

He had felt her presence even before she said a word, and turned to face the cloaked figure in grey, who held a large, shining scythe in her right hand.

"Mother." He smiled a small smile and looked over her cloaked figure.

Death was his mother, or so he had always known. He wasn't born, so to say, he was created, and he had never been breast-fed by Death because he was created an adult.

He had no feelings towards any of his relatives—well, Lucifer was amusing and Gabriel even more so—but that didn't mean he spoke to his family often.

He had never seen his Father, and had he not been the power of destruction created by god, he'd say there was no god.

He'd never met him, and he was Apocalypse. From what he knew, even Gabriel started to forget how it felt to be in Father's presence.

"I don't want to wipe out seven billion people and I'm not even bothering to count how many animals and other creatures." He heard a heavy sigh and his mother came closer to him, laying one gloved hand on his cloaked shoulder.

"Cali, I know you better than anyone." Her voice was soft and ethereal. "I am the one who turns you into flowers, dolphins, trees and rocks in space. I know you, Cali, and that's why I am here. This time Gabriel and Lucifer will break the seals, I can feel it. You cannot run away now."

He couldn't see the face of his mother—he had never seen it, actually, so nothing new here—but he knew her eyebrows were lifted at his amused smile. "I'm not planning to run away. Let them try, mother. I have a surprise for those two." Apocalypse laughed as he imagined the faces of his aunt and uncle when they would discover his biggest surprise.

There was only one thing that could stop him.

And that was himself.

xxx

He didn't know when he was supposed to be getting education, because he was constantly being whisked away by the Headmaster, who was now sitting behind his large desk, looking at the Minister of Magic who kept a very close eye on Harry.

How was he supposed to learn anything if he wasn't allowed in the classes?

Then again, he had a nasty lesson now, so it was actually great that he wouldn't be breathing any toxic fumes. He wasn't talking about Potions, he meant Divination.

However, it looked like Dumbledore had already puffed this morning. The left-over fumes were in the tower as well, clearly, polluting his brain, as there was no other explanation as to why the Minister of Magic felt so familiar that upon entering the Tower, Harry had almost said "Uncle": it had to be Dumbledore's premium weed.

There was one problem, though. He didn't mind the large black wings behind the Minister's back—who was he to judge if bullets didn't work on him, and he could create wings like that as well—, it was the anagram that bothered him.

No matter how Harry rearranged the letters, he couldn't get from Cornelius Fudge the name he was seeing over the Minister's head, at least without any weird words attached.

Harry knew he was spacing off, but he kept rearranging the letters to form one word he was seeing over the Minister of Magic's head.

Cornelius Fudge was Genocide Sulfur, Recoiled Fungus and Confused Uglier, but it did not fit with the glowing red name.

Who in their right mind calls himself Lucifer?

Their conversation was normal—if you can say so when dealing with Albus Dumbledore—until the Headmaster said a phrase Harry couldn't agree with.

Dumbledore had said, "With God's help, we'll succeed", and Harry agreed with the Minister whose eyebrows were also raised.

For a second, Harry imagined the Minister jumping up and romping around, screaming that he was better than God and others should turn to him for help because he was always there, unlike some…

Inwardly snickering, Harry looked at Minister Fudge who kept staring at him, eyes interested and happy.

Weirdo.

Harry wasn't against succeeding, it was the other thing that bothered him.

"Headmaster, is this a catholic school?" At Dumbledore's highly surprised face, Harry offered another option. "Evangelical?"

The shine in Minister's eyes—which were actually yellow with vertical pupils...How didn't he notice that before?—was getting brighter and brighter, and Harry wondered at the phlegmatic Dumbledore, who didn't seem to notice anything.

Must have been a good smoke, then.

"No, my boy, this is the school of magic." Gee, thanks.

"Thank you. That's how it should be then." The Minister was smiling, nodding his head slightly.

"What do you mean, I am afraid I don't follow you, my boy." I'm not your boy and no one manages to follow me.

"I am an atheist."

Duh.

"I beg your pardon?" The Minister opened his mouth before Dumbledore could.

Harry looked at the magical black wings and magically enchanted yellow eyes. "There is no god, no angels and no demons, and if you or anyone else want to prove me wrong, then show me something that cannot be explained by magic, and even then I'll find a proper explanation."

Why was the old Headmaster so shocked by his declaration? And the Minister was looking at Harry with suspicious eyes now . Was it mandatory to have faith in order to learn magic?

Because he had none.

There were no supernatural beings like gods, angels and demons.

As if he were stupid.

xxx

By now, the first part of the horrible Divination had ended, and Harry was still sitting in the Headmaster's Tower, but without the Headmaster himself. The Minister of Magic had wanted to speak to Harry privately, and after a few minutes of mutual glaring between Dumbledore and Fudge, the Headmaster had left.

Harry didn't know why, but he had a feeling this meeting was going to be different, especially when the Minister threw his wand on Dumbledore's table and waved his hands around the room, his large, black wings shimmering in the morning sun that peeked through the windows.

The Minister's visage vanished and a man in his fifties was standing before Harry, in a long, black cloak, with shining eyes and spread wings.

"Hello, my favourite nephew!"

Here we go…

The Minister—he wouldn't be calling him Lucifer because it was just ridiculous—waited and waited for a reply, only to get none.

One thing Harry learned from visiting psychiatrists and having Jim Moriarty as his pal, was to never argue with mentally ill and unstable people when alone in the room with said people.

That's why Harry didn't argue with Sirius when his Godfather had offered him to come live at Grimmauld place. Dumbledore may think Sirius was all there, but he wasn't. One look into his Godfather's mind, and Harry knew he had one more insane person in his close circle. It actually almost made him cry bitter tears, because if he had to count the normal people in his circle, he wouldn't need fingers. A zero was a zero.

"Cali?"

What a day it was turning to be.

"It's Harry." And this was the Minister of Magic…

If one day a large comet fell on them and smashed their arses together, Harry wouldn't be surprised. With such a Headmaster, such a Minister and such a Dark Lord, the end of the world was near.

"Do you know who I am?" The Minister asked with a pleased smile that would fit a sly fox.

"And you don't?" Alzheimer maybe, but then again, he didn't know that much about magical diseases, so it could be anything. Was it even allowed for the Minister to work with Alzheimer?

"Of course I know who I am!" For a second, the Minister raised his voice, and Harry got a very familiar feeling of utter amusement and satisfaction.

"Then why are you asking me?" Harry asked innocently, raising his eyebrows at the grunt from the Minister.

"Oh, I get it, Cali, I get it. You want to play." The Minister was now rubbing his hands together, grinning at Harry.

He needed to get out of here, now. It was one thing that he didn't die when he should, but no one would make Harry test the theory if he also couldn't be raped.

Could he?

Time to go.

"Was a pleasure meeting you, Minister Fudge. Wish you a pleasant day." The words were out of Harry's mouth as he quickly turned to leave, only to stop at the question from the Minister.

"Do you know who you are, Harry Potter?"

Hmmm….He was Harry Potter and he couldn't die. Plus, he had very interesting magic and he could read minds…

Wait a second…

Harry turned around and looked directly into the yellow eyes.

"Aaaaa!" A second later both the Minister and Harry were on the floor; the Minister screaming in pain, holding his head, and Harry staring in shock.

If entering Voldemort's mind had hurt a bit, then this was pure agony.

"Fuck, Cali. Why do you always do it? Stay the fuck out of my head!" The Minister started the rant only to stop when Harry coughed.

"It's Harry." And so many fucks! He was only eleven, after all…

The Minister, who was still on the floor, quickly got up and spread his impressive, black wings.

"No, it's Cali, shortened form of your real name."

Harry also got up from the floor and frowned.

What?

"You," The Minister pointed at Harry and then spread his hands, almost giddy from joy, the wards around the room silencing everything from the others, "are," and looked Harry straight in the eye, "Apocalypse."

Did he hear right? What else sounded similar to Apocalypse?

"I am what?"

"You are Apocalypse."

…

The silence stretched, just like the black wings that started to twitch after a few minutes.

"Cali?"

"And you are?"

"I am the Devil." The man smiled and bowed a bit, as if in greeting.

"And I should trust your word because…" Harry trailed off, still looking at the man.

"Look at my wings."

"Magic."

"Look at my eyes."

"Magic."

"Feel me!"

"No, thanks."

"I meant my AURA!" Geeze, someone needed a little bit of me-time in one of the nice hospitals.

"Magic."

The Minister then closed his eyes, and the wings started to glow red, before the whole floor opened up and down below, Harry saw a very badly kept dump that not only looked bad, but also smelled awfully.

"Can you explain this with magic, my nephew? This is Hell."

What a delusional idiot. Then again, maybe he was being unfair to the poor man who didn't know the reality from fantasy anymore.

"I can, actually." Those wings were a basic magic trick that he had learned on his first day at Hogwarts, when he had stumbled upon a mirror in Dumbledore's Tower. And the dump…He was sure Grimmauld place didn't look much better, and he'd have to live there during the summer…

Yuck.

Willing the wings to appear, Harry looked at the wide, yellow eyes. Harry felt two large wings appear behind his back, one purely white and the other pitch black, and he waved with one of the wings at the frozen Minister.

"You're truly back."

Oh, geeeee….

"Yes, yes, I am. Now, if you don't mind, my magical wings have to fly to Astronomy." He didn't mind chatting with weird people to escape Divination, but Astronomy he really liked.

"You don't believe me, do you?" The Minister asked, one eyebrow raised, head tilted to the side.

"Of course I do!" Harry smiled and nodded his head a few times, slowly backing towards the door.

"Oh, my absolutely favourite nephew…You'll believe soon," The Minister said while putting his hat on, idiotic façade up, and waved his hands around the frozen portraits and the dead phoenix—McNugget had, like always, directly turned into ashes as soon as Harry had stepped into the room—and then picked up the wand from the table.

"Minister," Harry started after a short discussion with his own brain, "I understand your position, and I can guarantee confidentiality." He paused at the surprised expression on the Minister's face, and continued in a calmer tone. "I know some people who may help you."

The Minister was smiling again. "You mean Gabriel and Death?"

Right.

"I meant Dr. Doolie. His name sounds shit, but he knows what he's doing most of the time."

"Dr. Doolie?" The way the Minister said the name…So much contempt and hidden rage, ugh. Yeah, ungrateful from the Minister considering he was sharing useful information. If you get to the wrong doc, you may not have hallucinations anymore but not because of the success of the therapy. Vegetables don't hallucinate.

"A…healer," Harry offered so as to not scare the poor guy with big words like psychiatrist. A psychologist wouldn't be of any help in this case. It wasn't about chatting, it was all about the hard-core medicine this poor guy needed. Urgently.

"A healer…" The Minister repeated slowly, only to then shout out loudly, forgetting that the wards had been removed from the room. "I don't need a fucking shrink! I AM NOT INSANE, how many times do I have to repeat it to all of you!"

A cough from behind him stopped the rant, and Harry turned to look at a highly amused Dumbledore, who had witnessed the Minister's breakdown. It seemed that he had touched a nerve.

Maybe he wasn't the only one with bad shrink experience here?

"May I go and actually learn something, Professor?" Harry asked the Headmaster, who nodded with a smile.

"Think about it, Minister," Harry smiled sweetly at the red-faced Minister and wishing everyone a great day, he left.

What a bunch of weirdoes.

Who ever said supernatural things existed, was simply too lazy and stupid to look for a logical explanation, and Harry wasn't anywhere near stupid.

Supernatural, my ass.

It was all magic.

xxx

a/n Thank you for your feedback!

I prefer not to leave huge ANs with all the details, but I do need to clear one thing up. Harry is an actual apocalypse. He's not Joffrey- I hated the bastard, who couldn't die sooner- and even though it's an enormous AU, he's still Harry. His character is not developed yet, as it cannot be done in 15 chapters, without any spoilers. So, if you're looking for a story where you can be all sad for Harry, it's not this one. He doesn't need redemption :) He's not the evil bastard who runs around killing mindlessly. He is Apocalypse, who tries to find his path. I like him :) You may like him too, if you give him a chance ;)