Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in any way, shape or form. I'm simply using them for my own enjoyment.
Uriel sighed, picking up another piece of paper. Metatron was working all four Archangels to the bone. Not literally, of course. Human analogies were just so silly at times. However, that didn't change the fact that Uriel was absolutely exhausted with all the paperwork that he'd been doing.
Yes, paperwork.
You would think that an Archangel, one of the highest of all heavenly beings, would have a more glorious job such as appearing to mortals during times of great need to help them get past troubles and inner strife. Or at least be able to actually patron what they were named patron angels for. Uriel missed the Louvre. Everything was simply delightful there.
But no, he had to be doing bloody paperwork because Metatron said so.
Heaving another sigh, Uriel picked up the next sheet of paper. Scanning over it, he idly let his mind wander. Aside from being stuck pushing paper, he still hadn't found anyone to take over the project he and Raphael started. Hm. That could prove troublesome, especially for the next seven or so years. Oh joy of joys, he just loved how this day was turning out.
He was jolted out of his thoughts by a single line on the document he was now reading. His dark hazel eyes gleamed as they raked over that sentence again and again. A smile began to form on his face. Perfect! This would give him a decent excuse to leave the office once in a while, and also solved the project problem. Now, to tell Raphael…
His hand reached out for the phone (1), arm carefully avoiding the stacks of paper he had so meticulously piled on his mahogany desk. As he picked it up, he could hear the ring as he waited for Raphael to pick up. The Healer was probably busy with a patient, or more likely he was doing paperwork as well. Yes, that seemed the more likely answer.
"Uriel?" There came Raphael's voice. Eight rings later, Uriel noted.
"Raphael. I called to tell you that I take back everything I said before. He's perfect for the job."
Uriel could almost see Raphael's growing smile.
"And that is why I recommended him." There was a small pause. "I'll call him in to discuss this. You can go on with your share of the paperwork now." Another pause, accompanied with what sounded like a large pile of papers being knocked to the floor. Uriel winced in sympathy; Raphael was going to have a hard time cleaning that up. "Could you talk to Harry about it?"
"Harry? Of course." Uriel would call the boy, but it wouldn't be a pleasant meeting. It had been so long since the two had really sat down and actually talked. He knew he wasn't as pleasant as Raphael, or even Michael, but it was no excuse for almost flat out ignoring the boy. A little voice at the back of his mind- the voice he had tried to shut out for the past seven years- taunted him (a great angel, kind and generous creatures, neglecting and by default practically abusing a child) every single day.
"Thank you. Have a pleasant day." Raphael was struggling to keep his nice tone of voice. Uriel could easily see why. Metatron was not somebody who tolerated tardiness, messiness, or general havoc and unplanned events.
Click.
Raphael hung up. Uriel set the receiver down, immediately picking it back up. The ring was oh so familiar as he patiently waited for his charge to pick up.
"Hello?"
Ah yes. There he was.
"Harry. I'd like to chat, but it's quite important. Come and see me as soon as you can, and don't forget to bring your letter."
"Right. I'll be there in ten minutes."
"Thank you."
Uriel set the phone down and sighed. That had killed five minutes of his time. Now to continue on with paperwork for the next ten minutes. Hopefully, the boy would be flabbergasted long enough for him to skip out on finishing the document sign-and-stamp routine. Highly unlikely (2), but Uriel would savor whatever time he had.
(1) Just because Aziraphale was incompetent with technology did not mean that it was true for every angel. In fact, Uriel and the rest of the Archangels (especially Gabriel) quite liked their telephones and computers and other electronics.
(2) Harry had much more Common Sense than most angels, who were more likely to have Righteous (or possibly Virtuous) Sense. It came in handy when they were doing their jobs, but unfortunately, it wasn't much use anywhere else.
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Hastur grinned evilly as he stalked up and down the corridors of Hell. Just wait until that slimy snake Crawly got here. He'd been told not to harm the traitorous serpent, but a little threatening wasn't harmful, was it? Besides, no self respecting demon would let another go without a) harming them, b) utterly destroying them, or c) scaring the bejeesus out of them. Seeing as options a) and b) were locked, Hastur would settle for c).
Finally, the black clad demon strolled along, whistling a tuneless song as he did so. Hastur's smile widened, and he lurked back into the shadows. It wouldn't be long until Crawly came by.
"Crawly…"
Crowley almost jumped at Hastur's raspy voice. But no, he had to show the ugly lug that he wasn't intimidated by him. Then again, that could be suicide seeing as Hastur was a Duke of Hell and Crowley was recently promoted to Shoe Polisher.
"Duke Hastur," Crowley said, eyes darting around behind dark lenses, searching for an easy escape route. When none appeared, he inwardly sighed and prepared himself for whatever it was Hastur was going to do.
"You got orders from Lucifer." Crowley could just see the evil smirk Hastur was probably wearing. Nobody who failed an order from the Morningstar ever came back. This would be perfect.
"Ah, right." Crowley could feel the beads of sweat start to form on his skin. They slid down his face like grains of sand in an hourglass, counting down how much time he had before he was eviscerated by Lucifer. "What are they?"
"Ya know the Chosen One, the Potter kid, right?" Seeing Crowley nod, Hastur continued. As much as he would like to wring the snake's neck, he had orders to make sure the message was passed on properly. He looked back on the chain of orders. He got them from Mammon who got them from Asmodeus who got them from Dagon who wasn't quite sure who he got them from, but Hastur figured it was somebody pretty important. All in good faith(1), really. "The Riddle guy came back, and he's lookin' to hunt the boy. You are going to tempt the boy over to the side of Darkness."
"Me?" Crowley was now much more confused than nervous. "Why me? And why not Riddle instead?"
"They said you was the best one for the job," Hastur spat. "Creatin' original sin and everything. Tempting an angel into almost sinning." Crowley felt himself blush at that. "And Riddle is pathetic. The boy could be much stronger. Besides, the kid knows stuff. Angel stuff. He's dangerous."
"Right, right, got it," Crowley muttered. He was well aware of the child that the angels had adopted. Aziraphale spoke of him too many times for him not to know.
"I'll be going now."
(1) That was a lie. A big fat one. There is no Good Faith in Hell. There isn't much of Good Anything in Hell either. The only good thing would really be Good Torture, and that was only after Beelzebub insisted that good torture was proper torture, and because the Morningstar didn't like anything left unfinished.
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Aziraphale uncertainly pushed open the door, half expecting someone or something to leap out at him. He had no idea why he had been summoned by Raphael himself. He was just a Principality, and he hadn't done anything to warrant being called by an Archangel.
The oak door swung open and he peered inside. Raphael was sitting at his desk, meticulously stamping papers, signing other documents and sorting them into neat piles, seemingly at random. He noted the large pile of broken pens at the foot of the desk. The Healer hadn't seem to notice his presence yet, so he patiently waited as Raphael finished up whatever he was doing.
At long last, the red-haired Archangel looked up in mild surprise. "Aziraphale! I didn't notice you were there. Sorry, sorry. Come, sit down." The angel waved his hand, and a very comfortable looking plush chair appeared in front of the desk (1). Cautiously, Aziraphale sat down, still looking highly uncomfortable. After he settled down, he looked up to see that Raphael had gone back to his paperwork.
"Excuse me, but what is this about?" Aziraphale ventured.
"Ah, yes." Raphael stopped what he was doing, looking up at the other angel. "I apologize; I know you're under Gabriel, but this is very important." Seeing Aziraphale's nod, Raphael grinned widely in relief. "So, I'm sure you're aware of the project Uriel and I have started, some ten years ago, am I right?"
Aziraphale furrowed his brow. "The one with the boy? Harry Potter?"
Raphael nodded. "Yes. He is beginning his lessons at Hogwarts in about two weeks. He has received his letter, and Uriel and I both think it will be good for him if he would attend. However, we can't let him go alone. He's been cursed when he was younger, and it is dangerous. He'll attract trouble. It's inevitable, you see. (2)"
"I understand," Aziraphale said slowly. "I'm just not sure what I have to do with this."
"Ah, I was getting to that part. You see, with his tendency to get into danger, he needs a guardian angel. Seeing as not many angels tolerate magic, we've been having a hard time finding anyone to take up the job." Raphael looked up at him, completely serious now.
"Aziraphale, I'd like you to become Harry's Guardian Angel."
That seemed to come as quite a shock.
"M-me?" Aziraphale stuttered. "Why me?"
"I recommended you a few days ago, but Uriel said no. I can't recall why, but just now he called me. Said you were perfect for the job." Raphael looked over at him, picking up a piece of paper. "We'd like for you to consider the offer, at least. Both of us are willing to let you take the job." Seeing Aziraphale's nervous look, he quickly added, "You don't have to decide right away. You have a week at the most, since that's when Harry's leaving."
"But, I still don't know why I've got to do it. I mean, there are others who are more qualified, aren't there?"
"There are others who are higher ranked," Raphael corrected. "Uriel and I both think you're the best for the job. You'll have to be promoted to Cherub status, but I don't think Michael will have a problem with that. As for the specific reasons why we asked you to do this…" Raphael looked at the paper in his hand. "For one thing, you are experienced with dealings on Earth. Secondly, we both know you'll be tolerant, if not accepting, of magic."
"May I ask how you came to that conclusion?" Aziraphale asked meekly. Raphael shot him a mischievous grin.
"Well, you do seem to be quite tolerant of demons. Or, a specific demon, I should say."
Aziraphale said nothing, trying to hide the flush on his cheeks. Raphael noted this. "I've been informed that Crawly- Crowley, I mean, is taking the job of trying to tempt Harry."
Aziraphale's head shot up, eyes wide in surprise. "Crowley's coming?" To his embarrassment, he could not hide the eagerness in his voice. "How do you know?"
Raphael frowned, as if he had eaten something vile tasting. Waving an arm dismissively, he said, "It's unimportant. You shouldn't concern yourself with that. Now, you don't have to answer immediately. Uriel and I don't need something solid for the next few days. Take some time to think about it."
But no, Aziraphale had already decided. If Harry was stuck with some other angel, it was highly likely that he'd be blessed and gone within a few days. As much as the serpent annoyed him (and it wasn't as much as he'd like to believe) he didn't want his only partner gone. That would defeat the entire purpose of The Arrangement. He was quite sure that no other demon would be quite as benevolent as Crowley.
"No, I've decided," Aziraphale heard himself say. Raphael perked up, smiling jubilantly.
"Are you sure?" His tone of voice indicated that the Archangel already knew the answer.
"Yes."
"Perfect!" Raphael smiled at Aziraphale, pushing the piece of paper towards him. "Metatron won't be able to say no to an officially signed document. Just write your name, a statement that you agreed, and then you're done. You'll officially be one of the Cherubim and Harry's Guardian Angel."
"That's it?"
Raphael handed Aziraphale the pen he had set down on the table. Aziraphale took it with a small, "Thank you," and signed the paper. In neat handwriting, he finished the last few words of the sentence, and as he finished, the paper glowed a bright yellow. Aziraphale blinked a few times, and the light faded. As his vision cleared, he could see that Raphael's symbol was now superimposed on the parchment.
"Thank you, Aziraphale. I think that's all. You'll be leaving with Harry in a week. King's Cross Station, and the train leaves at 11. Uriel and I will occasionally check how you're doing, but it shouldn't be a problem. I believe you're more than capable of doing the job." Raphael's brown eyes darkened. "Watch out for Tom Riddle, or Voldemort as he has called himself. He is hunting for Harry. We've managed to keep him safe for eleven years, but as soon as he leaves Heaven, Harry will be vulnerable."
"I understand," Aziraphale replied simply. He shifted his position, so he was looking directly at Raphael.
"Good." Raphael nodded, taking the pen back from Aziraphale. He looked back down at the stacks of paper sitting on his desk. "I think you should go report to Michael now. If he has any questions, tell him to ask me."
"Right." Aziraphale got up, shuffling anxiously on his feet. "I'll be going now."
Raphael waved absently, already concentrating on his paperwork. Aziraphale waved back uncertainly, before turning around and heading back outside.
(1) Aziraphale was slightly envious of how easily miracles came to the other angels. He had been spending quite a lot of time on Earth, and that didn't lend itself to using too many miracles. That was reserved for divine grace and/or retribution.
(2) Aziraphale half expected Raphael to say ineffable.
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The boy with messy black hair and jade green eyes sits on a plastic chair, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows. The angel with long dark brown hair in a ponytail and piercing blue eyes stands behind a desk, staring intently at the boy. Neither speaks for a long while. It isn't until the gentle fluttering of feathers that one of them turns their head. The angel has his wings out, but that is not the source of the sound. Whenever he unwinches his wings, it is silent and graceful, not boisterous and loud like many others. No. It was not his wings that make the sound.
It is the boy's.
The angel breaks first.
"Good luck."
The boy, Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World who disappeared the night he was orphaned, nods. It is stiff, formal, cold. Only respect passes from him to the other.
"Thank you."
The boy gets up to leave. The angel, Uriel, Archangel and patron of the arts, watches him, hands clenched into fists. And he thinks.
The door swings shut.
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So, this is my first attempt at a major crossover. My writing style will switch between humorous and serious, but I'll try to keep a balance. In general, scenes with Crowley and Aziraphale interacting will be humorous, while Harry with almost any non-human will be serious. Everything else is probably going to be a mix between the two, depending on how the situation turns out.
I'll try to have a regular update schedule, but I'm not sure it's going to last. I am extremely determined not to abandon this story, so if you feel that it's gone quite long without an update, prod me and I'll probably respond.
Well, that is if anybody's interested in this. If you are, I'd really appreciate it if you dropped a review. it isn't necessary, but it'd make me feel a lot better.