This story is actually a rather unusual one. Rather than a story that I am currently writing to see if it works out, this one is an old one that I intended to get to go somewhere. One day, I may revisit it.
Like Sympathy for the Devil and Fall to Zenith, Lance and Devil was a crossover with Highschool DxD. In hindsight, I should have tried to develop this one more than Sympathy for the Devil, as it had a more interesting concept. But my initial attempt at this story went nowhere fast. I am only posting the first chapter of this story, as the second chapter took it in a direction where I didn't want it to go in hindsight, and so, I will eventually use this initial chapter as the basis of a new story with a new direction. With Fall to Zenith, I've done Harry Potter in the Highschool DxD verse more than the reverse. Here, the reverse may happen.
LANCE AND DEVIL
CHAPTER 1:
REVELATIONS
Harry Potter woke up reluctantly. Not just reluctantly, but with a fog over his most recent memories, along with his mind. Indeed, the only thing that really got him out of his state of insensibility was a distinctively welcome smell, that of hot chocolate. When he finally opened his eyes, he found a mug filled with hot chocolate on a bedside table next to him. He reached over, and took it, and began drinking it. Only now did he realise, as he began drinking, that he wasn't where he should be. He wasn't at 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. In fact, his last memory was in an alley not far from the Dursleys' house.
Recollection came back to him, triggered by the taste of the hot chocolate. As it slid down his throat, memory slid back into place. Of being all but ignored by his friends during the summer. Of his increasing anger. Of Dudley and his gang. Of the Dementors in the alleyway…
DEMENTORS!
That realisation sent a thrill of fear through Harry's body. They had come for him, and then…and then…
Why couldn't he remember what happened? Had the Dementors done something to him?
He looked around the room. It was dimly lit, very little detail visible. It was also quite spartan in terms of décor and furnishing. A bed, a bedside table, and a lamp. Oh, and a chair.
The door opened, and four people entered. He recognised three of them rather swiftly. Hermione, and her parents. However, the fourth person, a handsome man in his thirties with dark hair (albeit with a blonde fringe) and a short beard was not someone he recognised. He was dressed in what seemed like a kimono or something like that. He didn't like the way the man was peering at him, though the smile seemed friendly enough. There was an air to the man that wasn't dissimilar to his godfather. "So, you're awake, Harry. That's good. We got worried there for a moment."
Harry blinked at him, before demanding, "Who the hell are you? And what's Hermione doing here?"
"Well, it might be best if I answer those questions in reverse order. Hermione is here because her parents work for me. Dan and Emma here have been good friends of mine for some years. Actually, to tell the truth, I've wanted to meet you for some time, really, but it was better to keep my distance until things went south and I could justify an intervention. I had to retrieve Hermione from where old Dumbledore had her. Believe me, getting around a Fidelius Charm is a real bitch, even for someone like me. By the way, she didn't want to keep you in the dark. The old goat just felt it best to have you alone to mourn Cedric Diggory. Of course, Dumbledore miscalculated. And Hermione's still got to get over her authority worship. Don't worry, she can be trusted."
"Can she?" Harry asked acidly, before his eyes narrowed. "Can you?"
"Ooh, good question. Short answer, you don't know whether to trust me, and you probably won't once I tell you who I am. But Hermione is one of your oldest friends. You can trust her more than you can trust me. Then again, I'm sure you can trust me more than you can trust your Ministry of Magic." He pulled a newspaper from his kimono, and put it onto Harry's lap.
Harry scowled when he saw the headline, declaring him to be an attention-seeking liar, and Dumbledore to be senile, at best, and that Voldemort hadn't returned. As Harry's scowl deepened, his eyes scanning over the article, the man said, "That imbecile Fudge has turned Magical Britain against you. He didn't need much prompting from Lucius Malfoy, either. I'm surprised they haven't accused you of murdering Cedric yourself. Now, before you get too worked-up, drink the rest of your hot chocolate. Those Dementors really did a number on you."
Harry did so, sullenly. As he finished the hot chocolate, Hermione came forward. "I actually have a confession to make, Harry."
Harry looked at her, his eyes hard and cold, but he motioned for her to continue.
"…I'm not actually a Muggleborn. I'm technically a Pureblood witch."
Harry was lucky he had finished the hot chocolate by that point, or else he would have either choked on it, or else spat it out in sheer shock. "What?!"
"It's true, albeit on a technicality," Dan Granger said. "My wife and I are magical. But we're not actually considered to be so. We'd be in more danger if our true status was exposed than if we were Muggles."
"What the hell do you mean?!" Harry demanded.
"Calm down, Harry," the man in the kimono said. And although Harry nearly yelled at him, something about his voice and expression actually caused Harry to still his tongue. After a moment, the man continued. "Not all children who have magical blood in them go to Hogwarts. Some are recruited by the Church. Both Anglican and Catholic. It has been a longstanding dogma that to stop rogue magicals, one should use magicals. The Church trains them as a form of special forces unit, known as the Exorcists. You ever read Hellsing?" Harry nodded, having read one of Dudley's tattered copies. "Think somewhere between the Hellsing Organisation and Section XIII Iscariot, and you'll probably get an idea of what the Exorcists do. They're an elite group of fighters for the Church, many of them magical. Dan and Emma here were two Exorcists. Given that they have been excommunicated, they are known, rather disparagingly, as Stray Exorcists."
Harry looked at them, then at the man, before asking, perhaps somewhat stupidly (it had been a trying day, though, so he could be excused), "Why would they be treated worse than Muggles?"
The man sighed. "Exorcists have been a favourite weapon of the Church in the past against wizards and witches. Even after the Statute of Secrecy was established, the Church sent Exorcists after wizards and witches. Only a few decades later did the Church relent, and even then, they sometimes send them as assassins against other wizards and witches. But the thing is, Exorcists are considered traitors of the worst kind to the Wizarding World, and boogymen of the highest order to magical children. Dan and Emma here are not monsters, you must understand: the few wizards they have targeted were either Death Eaters or their associates. Indeed, while Dan retrieved you from Little Whinging, Emma found the person who had sent the Dementors after you, as I had received word from one of my contacts about someone in the Ministry targeting you. Said person is in another room in my little safehouse."
Harry didn't know how to take this. That Hermione had lied about her heritage, that her parents were magical assassins for the Church, and that someone had sent Dementors after him. He decided to just keep carrying on as much as he could. "And who are you? You haven't told me your name."
"Ah, yes, sorry. I've been rude, haven't I? The name's Azazel. I'm the leader of an organisation known as the Grigori. Not that that's a name that'd mean much to you, unless you've studied more theology than I thought. This is going to be one of the more impossible things you're going to hear today." Azazel stood, and suddenly, six pairs of pitch-black wings spread from his back. "Believe it or not, Harry Potter, I'm a Fallen Angel. The leader of the Fallen Angels, to be precise."
Harry looked at him, a little bemused. He wondered whether he should be more shocked or sceptical than he was feeling. Instead, he felt a sort of resignation. Considering he saw Voldemort come back from the dead, along with so many other things, what was this revelation but another added to the pile? Eventually, all he said was, "Huh."
"I think he broke," Emma Granger remarked with a sigh. "Between Dementors and revelations, I'm not surprised."
Eventually, Harry found something to latch onto, something relatively sane. "Who sent the Dementors after me? Was it Malfoy?"
"Believe it or not, no. If Malfoy did such a thing, Voldemort would have his hide for killing you before he could do so. No, it was actually someone you've probably never heard of. Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic. And in case you're wondering, no, Fudge didn't tell her to do so. He wants to discredit you, but not have you dead. Whereas Umbridge wants you dead or discredited, because you're a threat to the stability of Magical Britain, as she sees it. Frankly, the Batrachian Bitch won't be mourned by anyone." Azazel, who had retracted his wings, began pacing. "Of course, her sending a pair of Dementors to attack you has had unforeseen consequences. One of which is the reason you're here, and not back at your relatives' house. The thing is, you tried to use a Patronus on the Dementors. Sadly, you were very nearly overcome, and couldn't use it. I guess you could say what happened next was a miracle of sorts."
"What, from God?" Harry scoffed.
"Well, He can't exactly do much, being dead and all," Azazel said. Harry wasn't sure what he was more surprised by: Azazel saying God was dead, or that the Grangers were showing little surprise to such a proclamation. Some dismay, yes, but not actual surprise.
"God's dead, huh?" Harry asked. On seeing Azazel nod, Harry muttered, "Figures."
"Oh, don't get me wrong, He was very big on the whole 'free will' thing, so blaming him for the Dursleys and Voldemort if He was alive isn't the way to go. He died centuries ago, at the end of a great war, but that's a tale for a later time. Anyway, miracles can happen, even if God is dead. I mean, the world's still turning even without Him." Azazel eventually sat back down on the chair, and steepled his fingers. He was all-business now. "Well, to explain how you beat the Dementors without a Patronus spell, I have to give you a little primer on one particular facet of our world. These are artifacts known as Sacred Gears. They're innate to specific people, born with them. They grant special powers. Most of them are weapons, but there are many that have other abilities. For example, there's a young nun in Italy called Asia Argento who has a Sacred Gear known as Twilight Healing, capable of healing any she wishes."
"You think I have one of these Sacred Gear things?" Harry asked.
"Hey, you catch on quick. But it's a yes and no sort of answer. Frankly, I haven't really come across anything like this before in my life. I mean, Sacred Gears are both blessings and curses. They're powerful resources to those who claim them. Those who possess Sacred Gears have the power to shape the world." Azazel looked Harry in the eye. "Of course, they're so hotly contested, defending them can lead to the ruin of those who seek to claim them or defend them. And with the death of every Sacred Gear user, the Sacred Gear fades away, until it comes back into being in another person. But the question I need to ask here, Harry Potter, is that what if a Sacred Gear is not granted to another person…but IS that person(1)?"
Harry stared at him. "…What?"
"What I'm trying to say here, Harry, is that you're not a bearer of a Sacred Gear. You ARE one."
Before darkness swallowed him up once more, Harry's only thought was, Oh.
Hermione watched as her oldest friend, upon digesting what Azazel had told him, flopped back onto the bed in a dead faint. Understandable, considering what he had just been told. She went over to Harry, and checked him.
"He'll be fine," Azazel said. "Anyway, we'll have to tell him some of the things the old goat kept from him. Amongst other things."
Hermione scowled slightly. As much as he had a point about Dumbledore, her respect for the Headmaster of Hogwarts died hard. Then again, this man had a ridiculous amount of power. Azazel made most wizards and witches, if not all, seem like insects by comparison.
Even so, it seemed that Harry had more power than she had ever thought. Than anyone had thought. And if Azazel was right, then Harry would need all the friends he could get…
CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS:
And here you have it. The beginning of a new crossover. Unlike the old one, Dumbledore won't be bashed, or rather, he won't be made a villain. Rather, he will be more or less made irrelevant. Some elements from Fall to Zenith will be carried over, like the destruction of the Horcruxes, albeit in a somewhat different manner. I'm also taking a leaf from Journey of the Sorcerer, and thus Soul Eater. I mean, Sacred Gears seem to be merely innate to a person. What if they were the person?
I hope you liked me making the Grangers Stray Exorcists. They're not a villainous kind of Stray Exorcist, like Freed, but rather, more like they left the Church on a matter of principle.
As with Fall to Zenith, this basically shifts canon forward by a decade. So this chapter takes place in 2005, rather than 1995 (as the canon version of The Order of the Phoenix did).
1. This 'speech' is a modified form of Episode 81 of 8-Bit Theater, namely the discussion of Black Mage's origins. This was another slight inspiration for this story.
