Author's Note: Oh merde! I always forget to put the disclaimer! Well here it is.
Disclaimer: EVERYTHING IS MINE! HOGWARTS IS! GOD IS AS WELL AS SATAN! (Yes, we call it 'denial')
Author's Note n°2: Thank you thank you thank you! Thanks to Flair Verona, to Puck –X-, even is its my roommate and special thanks to shock.
This chapter is for you Shock!
REMEMBER TO REVIEW! PLEASSSSEEE review! Flames if it has to be, but pleeeeasssse review. Or I'll come and whine in your dreams.
Chapter one: And so Might it Be!
He walked outside, in the sun, enjoying the warmth of it on his skin. He was feeling bubbly inside. The beauty of the nature always managed to make him calm down.
He was looking forward to the meeting he had later on the day. He would get picked up by his elder sister that he loved very much. In fact, there weren't really people he hated. He just liked some people more than others.
He decided to stay the whole morning outside until it was time to leave for Hogsmade. He never, ever ate anything. He didn't need to: he always was full. He eventually drank tea sometimes and polity nibbled a scone. He was rarely seen in the great hall.
Rumours told he was a vampire; he had laughed wearing them. He definitely didn't belong to the category of demoniac persons. He was rather the kind that had little wings and a halo. According to the stereotypes.
It seemed definitely to be a good day. He turned around in circles, making his robe voluminous and twirly. It was great fun; it reminded him of the years before Hogwarts.
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After having sent her owl, she hesitated slightly between returning to her dorm or to go breakfast. After a moment of thinking, she went to great hall to get some breakfast.
She loved to eat. She always ate a lot, but she piled neatly her well cut food on her fork and chew always before swallowing. Often people did barely notice how much she ate. She loved also to bake (maybe because of her baked birth). She often made very greasy things, like doughnuts and fried them thoroughly before covering them in sugar. She could eat a dozens of them in less than an hour. Often House Elves watched her with frightened eyes; she was capable of eating a fifth of the whole school tea bread if she was hungry.
House elves fed her with bakery when she was in the library reading horrible tomes of obscure magic and history, in hope she'll stop pestering them with her 'freedom'.
Whilst she was finishing her third plate of waffles, a magnificent rust red owl carried a note to her.
She smiled happily, blinking to thank the owl. Her Portkey was there. She decided to eat three apples and two scones just to celebrate the beginning of the day.
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Without either of them noticing, it was suddenly time to leave for Hogsmade.
He smiled gently to the sun as he walked slowly towards the little village, catching up on his way three girls, none of them happy or joyful. He talked to them and listened to their problems, smiled gently smiling to them, happy to be of help.
She stomped off, all in black, pestering against the sun, her two friends sporting behind her, wondering how she managed to walk so quickly. Usually she walked lazily, whining when they ran, she having the shortest legs.
Both set foot in the village with exactly 16 minutes of difference. Whilst he was waiting for his sister, she was running towards the shrieking Sack.
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Her friends weren't surprised to see her go; she had her own little adventures and things to take care off; she liked them a lot for that. She hoped sometimes that they could be like her.
She had briefly wondered at some points if one of them actually wasn't one of them. One of disgusting, harp-playing, toga-wearing pricks. He seemed so clueless and lost and immature and somehow so, so young. None of them, from both rival religious camps were young. Immature maybe, but not young. You had no age after a while; you were immortal, neither young nor old. Your body might have the appearance of a child, but the person inside was elder than earth.
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His sister was already waiting for him as he stepped in to the Three Broomsticks. Well, for him she was his sister; for others she was his mum. She was called Seraphina, a name she refused to change with time; she was a known angel; so known in fact that she had her own category.
He sighed. Seraphina was his sister because they were made from the same dream.
Sometimes being him wasn't easy. He was young, yet old. He was always, always, always too smart for his peers; it annoyed him somehow. It was difficult to help people by telling them similar stories than theirs; only those people were often long dead. And he couldn't lie by telling he was the protagonist of the stories.
He had the wonderful, yet horrible capacity - or incapacity, to lie. He always told the truth, he never lied. He could make the truth softer, but he couldn't hide it.
He was precocious, no matter in what.
Sometimes he wondered is she, the girl with the living hair, wasn't one of his kind; she always seemed more mature, more intelligent, more potent than her peers. Yet her sometimes stupid risks to save the day and excessive showing-off made him unsure about it.
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She took out the reversed pentacle she had received and put it around her neck. She clasped it tightly in her hand and started to hum her favourite children's nurse rhyme.
"The Devil owns a sawmill, and We're all the Trees. …. Hum… hummm… Always shelter from the storm, because evil comes in many forms. Lightning jump-starts deadened hearts, That seek to saw the world apart. Hide yourself from the storm, to keep your skin from being torn. …. Flannery had a Devil, or so my Mother said. The Demon kept on working, After Flannery was dead, Instead of Using Timber, To build the rich folk homes, The Demon went out hunting …… FOR WICKED CHILDREN'S BONES! "
Just as she finished singing, she felt the usual tug behind her bellybutton and let herself twirl away from Hogsmade to Finland. Where Hell froze often over. Hell as in Helsinki of course.
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His sister smiled to him and beckoned to him to follow her. This was unusual; usually Seraphina told him directly His messages. Obviously this was something bigger, because suddenly, an odd, old man was in front of him.
"- Meet Aberforth Dumbledore."
The man was smiling with his yes, which were the oddest colour he had seen in his life; they were blue and green, small planets and galaxies in his eyes. This wasn't a normal wizard; he was ready to bet (although it was a sin) that he was no other than the archangel Gabriel.
Big things were obviously going to happen. All three walked towards the Shrieking sack, walking slowly, without talking, in a comfortable silence.
They walked over the Shrieking Sack and into the Forbidden Forest. There, they sat down on moss covered stones, hand outstretched to meet each others fingertips. He heard a slight sputter and closed his eyes. He felt wind on his cheeks and sun on his skin. He was naked, and he felt wonderfully free; he was light. Gabriel and Seraphina took his hands in theirs and slowly guided him forwards.
As he opened his eyes, he was the in Forest, being himself, yet not completely. He fluttered towards Him; being carried by his sister and Gabriel. Life flowed around him like a wild and crazy firework spectacle.
They jumped down into the lake, from where they went trough water canals up to the highest tip of the Mountain Everest. There he waited for them.
No one had really dared to watch him into the eyes. He had to remember not to watch him. He was terribly curious, a quality non-well seen by the other angels. He was rather unorthodox sometimes, making him unique. Like everybody else.
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When she landed in Finland, she felt suddenly better; the sun was only pointing out shyly under a mass of clouds and it was very cold, with snow every where. It was mercifully dark and gloomy.
She had appeared in a dirty, smelly toilet. She heard metros rumble under her feet; she was underground. She went out from the toilet and walked up the first stairs she found.
A late teenager was waiting for her. He had red dyed hair, a fully pierced face, an obvious tattoo on his neck and he had on a long, black, mink coat. He was shivering. He loved the sun as much as she hated it. She was her oldest friend; they weren't often together these past millenniums; she worked among humans, and he took care of contra-divine interventions.
"- Finally! Have you any idea about how bloody cold it is here?" but both figures hugged nonetheless. But as she had him in his arms, she still saw the battered faced man behind them.
He was obviously one of those hundreds of alcoholic men on the streets. She briefly considered her options. First of all, she could give him money. This would make him buy more alcohol and die slowly with the years if he didn't die of cold before. Or then she could give him nothing and let him die even more surely on the streets. Or then, she could make sure that the tram that was nearby could roll over him, thus creating a stop in the tram line, this creating too much electricity in wires which would explode, leaving Helsinki in the dark.
Yes, yes, that was what she would do. But suddenly the old dirty man watched her in the eyes, and she felt her eyes warm up. He was no ordinary man.
The boy released her from his hug and ventured for her to follow him. She followed him nonplussed as the boy brought her to the stinking man.
"- Here she is."
She was about to release an impressing amount of foul words, but suddenly they got stuck in her throat. She sucked in air as she watched the old mans eyes.
"- You are…. I missed you."
She bent down and kissed the old man's cheek who was suddenly lean and clean, slightly smelling like azoth. He kissed her cheeks back in greeting. He was so handsome in hs real form it was a sin.
"- Lucifer" she finished and blushed.
"- Yes I am. And He's waiting for us; you're going to meet Pappa after such a long time!"
She clapped her hands and laughed.
"- Ooh! It's going to be nice to meet him again!"
The red haired boy smiled whilst twisting her hair. He was happy to see what he considered to be his bestest of friends so happy. How she loved to create messes around her! He had always loved to try out new things with her. They were big consumers of the 'Devil's Weed". They actually invented the whole thing. He had created all new kind drugs to pass time with. He liked to undermine people sneakily.
So he watched his friend in the corner of the eye before saying, laughing already at the stupid pun.
"- You don't know the best part; he's got a hell of job for you."
All three started laughing, and Lucifer ventured them to move. They walked into the museum of modern art of Helsinki, apparently without being noticed. They walked through the cloakroom and Lucifer opened a door with an odd shaped key. The key looked like a Pez dispenser.
They walked down a spiral staircase which would have made anyone else dizzy. Lucifer led the walk, she in the middle and the red haired boy closed the walk. Finally they were in something that looked like a crossover of an Indian teahouse and a French renaissance brothel. In the very end of the quite big room was a person sitting on large cushions, smoking a hookah.
"- Welcome back!"
She took off her shoes and threw off her cloak and long sleeved cardigan on the floor before toppling to the imposing figure.
Well she was more running impatiently, like a child running to her long missed father.
"- Pappa!"
" – My lovely little Ache! C'm 'ere! "
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Author's Post Note: Pappa means 'daddy' in Swedish.