Sooo...this story, you can thank or blame (depending) Gilgamesh the King of Heroes on. While I have been somewhat aware of Future Diary, or Mirai Nikki if you're being pedantic, for some time, it's only recently that I've decided to do a fanfic on it. I've watched the first episodes of the series, and already, the series, despite the dark elements in it, has surprisingly grabbed me.
Now, before I watched the series, I read the sole Potterverse/Future Diary crossover on this site, Gilgamesh the King of Heroes' The Terrorist's Apprentice. The story revolves around a pre-Hogwarts Harry being adopted by Minene Uryu, one of the key characters of Future Diary. The best way to describe her is basically a combination of Black Lagoon's Revy (in terms of her nihilism, volatile temper, and surprisingly sympathetic moments and backstory) and Deidara from Naruto (explosives fetish, what else need be said?). Minene is basically a misotheistic terrorist who specialised in bombing places of worship as well as church figures like cardinals and the like. While she has been toned down a little here, being less indiscriminate, she is still a major misotheist, that is, someone who hates God. And the sad thing is, Future Diary actually has a deity, in the form of Deus Ex Machina, who is holding a tournament with stakes that make the Holy Grail War look like an unruly soccer match, and Minene is one of those he chose as a contestant. Think about that.
Unlike Gilgamesh the King of Heroes' story, this story has Harry and Minene at the same ages. It's also going to be a WBWL fic set during the TWT (yes, get the bitching out of the way), BUT, unlike my previous WBWL fics (save perhaps for my Elfen Lied crossover Children of the Revolution), there will be NO James Potter-bashing, save for a number of stupid decisions he has made (but no malice). There will be Dumbledore-bashing, but with a major twist that will be revealed as the story goes on...should it be published.
I have to thank Gilgamesh the King of Heroes for allowing me to use their story as a springboard and inspiration for this one. While it will hopefully move in a different direction to what they intended for The Terrorist's Apprentice, they still deserve credit, if only for putting up with questions I had about the series and my story before I finally published this chapter, and while The Terrorist's Apprentice seems to be dead, it's still an enjoyable enough fic what is there to appeal to people who enjoy dark comedy. And even if this story doesn't go anywhere, I still have a few idea for more Potterverse/Future Diary crossovers, including a couple involving Harry being paired with perhaps the most infamous yandere in anime pop culture...yeah, I am really considering inflicting Yuno Gasai on Harry...be afraid...
MISOTHEISM AND MAGIC
CHAPTER 1:
MINERVA AND PROMETHEUS
The city was a warzone, once-proud buildings torn asunder by the conflict. It didn't matter to the combatants that they were tearing apart lives or history caught in the crossfire. All that mattered was their conviction that they were in the right, that God was on their side. If they knew that the entity many called God was watching the conflict with interest but no real favour towards either side…well, they would have denied it to their last breaths.
Said entity watched from his throne with interest. A convergence was about to happen, an interesting convergence that, if it came to pass, would cause great unpredictable ripples in the fabric of causality, like a rock thrown into a pond. And for an ancient, eldritch entity like Deus Ex Machina, he lived for the unpredictable, the novel, the sheer fact that even so-called omniscience and omnipotence had its limits. Deus Ex Machina may have been a dick who loved tampering with people's lives and the nature of space and time when he was bored, but let it never be said that he felt his power was absolute. If anything, it added to the spice of what was once eternal life. Sometimes, all he wanted to do was light the fuse and hope that the ensuing conflagration was an interesting one.
He watched as a purple-haired girl of eight years bawled over the corpses of her parents, sprawled on the ground, the fighters on both sides not caring that their so-called righteous fighting had robbed a girl of her parents. As far as they were concerned, their pain was paramount, and nobody else's mattered. But someone was approaching her, drawn to her grief.
Grief is a powerful attractor in some situations. Sometimes, it draws in those who wish to exploit it. Sometimes, it draws in those who wish to relieve it. And sometimes, grief calls to grief. Deus frowned. What was the saying again? Kit Marlowe put it in that play about Faust. Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris. The wretched find solace to have companions in woe. Or, to put it another way, misery loves company.
Stumbling towards the girl was a boy of the same age, with a messy mop of black hair, emerald eyes, and glasses askew and cracked, his arm bleeding and twisted out of shape. Yet despite the despair and grief writ large on his face, the first thing he asked was, "…Hey, are you okay?"
The girl looked up at him sharply, in fright, shock, but when she took in his own dishevelled appearance, like her own, she relaxed a little. "…Oto-san…Okaa-san…"
"…Are they your parents?" She just blinked at him through tear-filled eyes in incomprehension. "…I lost Uncle Moony. My mother's dead too, and my father…he doesn't want me anymore…"
"…Wakarimasen," the girl said. "O…O-namae wa? Namae wa…Uryu Minene desu." She pointed to herself. "Minene. Minene."
"…Is that your name? Minny? My name is Harry. Harry Evans."
"…Nani?"
A curious thing, human nature, Deus mused to himself. The bonds they had with each other were so fragile, severed by purpose or accident or the actions of another. And yet, these two children, despite the language barrier, had bonded, because they clearly recognised kindred spirits. He'd be keeping an eye on them. They were going to do great things. Probably terrible things too, but how many great things weren't?
The room was filled with the sound of laughter as a purple-haired girl in her late teens rolled along the floor, sounding like she was trying to cough up half a lung. The room's other occupant was just slumped on the couch, trying to get his own lungs working properly again, with mixed success. The reason? They'd just watched a video that they had recently filmed.
The teenaged boy fished around for the remote again, before rewinding. The large screen showed a fireball seemingly curl in on itself, fire and debris imploding with a strangely balletic grace, before they reformed into a battered and bruised older man man tied to a chair in a rather bleak landscape. The rewind went back further, until a pair of masked figures leapt into view. After a while, the boy stopped rewinding. "Now, we come to the climax of our show," said one of the masked figures, their voice warped by some sort of vocoder. "We have extracted fitting retribution for the vicar's sins, sins that he believes he will still go to Heaven, in spite of doing them. Well, Minerva, I guess we shouldn't be surprised if a God who condones violence done in his name would forgive a trifling little crime like paedophilia."
"Which is why we have chosen a fitting punishment for him, Prometheus," the other masked figure said, their voice similarly distorted. "He thinks he'll go to Heaven, so we're going to try and send him there. We've used as our inspiration Wan Hu, the Chinese astrologer who, supposedly, strapped 47 rockets to his chair and rode it to the Heavens. Or else disappeared in an explosion(1). So, before we begin our recreation and tribute to Wan Hu, let us state once more our creed."
"It is your corrupt we claim, it is your evil that will be sought by us. With every breath…"
Prometheus' spiel was interrupted by the man on the chair. "…You stole that from Boondock Saints(2)!" he yelled hoarsely.
The masked figures looked at each other, before Minerva held up a detonator. "…Fuck it. Minerva wants big boom."
They leapt out of the way as Minerva clicked on the detonator, just as the chair exploded. In slow motion. With, of all things, Fly Me to the Moon playing over the slowed down footage.
Their hilarity was started up all over again, and eventually, the boy said, "…Minnie, I think it's fair to say that that one is in the Top 10. Though I think it's also fair to say we can't steal our speech from Boondock Saints anymore."
"So? There's plenty of good shit we can take from films and books. Let's just use something good from something nobody else watches. Anyway, you're damned right that's in the Top 10. You know, when you talked me out of bombing churches and shit, I thought you were being a pussy. Have to say, I'm glad you did. This is way more fun!" She cackled like a hyena. "Plus, some people love us, Harry. We're like Bonny and Clyde, only vigilantes against scum who hide behind religion. Even if they still call us terrorists. That being said, nothing will ever top last year. You, me, an Al Qaeda base, the 1812 Overture, a box of grenades with the Featherlight Charm, and Fiendfyre."
"Best honeymoon ever," Harry murmured. "And that's not counting what we got up to that night."
"Well, at least we know for sure that God's an arsehole. Seriously, I think Deus is watching our latest antics while eating popcorn."
Suddenly, the room around them rippled and warped, until they were in a vast chamber, like being in the inside of a hybrid of a cathedral and a massive computer. The entire chamber was lit in an eldritch purple light. "…Speak of the devil," Harry remarked, looking up to where the one they were talking about sat, on a throne seated in a hollowed-out sphere, like a broken eggshell made of metal.
Deus Ex Machina was massive, perhaps over a hundred feet tall, dressed in a dark robe. His arms and hands were long and spindly and inhuman (and fishing around in a massive bowl of popcorn!), and his face seemed to be skull-like, and not like a human skull either. It was hard to tell what animal it came from, the long features possibly coming from an ox or a sheep or even a bird. Metallic hair sprouted in an unruly mess from the back of the skull, while beady eyes peered at them. A small (in proportion to the head, anyway) crown was perched on said skull.
"I'd protest your choice of idiom," Deus said, his voice raspy and resonant, filling the room, "but you've already made your opinion of me very clear."
"…Where the hell did you get popcorn?" Harry asked.
"Where does Murmur get her corn?" Deus countered. "She goes and takes it from wherever she wishes. I ask her to get me a supply."
'Minny', aka Minene Uryu-Evans, rolled her eyes in disdain. "And she's like a cat, that one, coming and going as she pleases."
"I'm right here, you know," squeaked a childish voice from near their feet. The source was a deceptively young-looking girl with dark skin and pale blue hair, a tail protruding from her rear with a spade-shaped tip. This was Deus Ex Machina's assistant and dogsbody, Murmur.
"Your point?" Minene asked. "Actually, it's Halloween tonight. You'd two'd probably fit right in amongst the trick-or-treaters."
"I'd have to adjust my proportions somewhat," Deus remarked ruefully. "I believe I would look more conspicuous than the average trick-or-treater. Incidentally, if you have any plans for your little crusade tonight, I'd suggest cancelling them."
"…Why's that?" Harry asked suspiciously.
"Well, have you been keeping abreast of the local magical news? No, I thought not. You see, the microcephalic addlepates of the British Ministry of Magic have gotten it into their heads to revive the Tri-Wizard Tournament…though due to various circumstances, it's about to become the Quad-Wizard Tournament."
"…What," the two vigilantes slash misotheistic terrorists (depending on who was talking about them) chorused flatly.
"Wait a fucking moment…does that mean Harry's gonna be in this thing?" Minene snarled.
"Is this a joke, you clapped-out deity?" Harry demanded.
"Sadly, no, or at least not one of my own making, not directly, anyway," Deus remarked, though he had what passed for a smirk on his features. "Look at it this way: consider this a dry run for a little something I'm working on. Besides, the Goblet of Fire is a VERY powerful artifact. I believe it was after I had a drinking contest with Zelretch that I made it. Now, don't disappoint me, my favourite misotheistic misfits..."
As the two disappeared from the Cathedral of Causality, Deus smirked as they yelled, in chorus, "FUCK YOU, DEUUUUSSSSSS!" Ah, there was nothing more satisfying than trolling two of the world's most militant misotheists.
"Sooo…do you reckon they will make it through this stupid tournament?" Murmur asked.
"The Tasks these pitiful wizards have set are well within the capabilities of Harry to overcome. However, both accident and malice can cause problems. They are mortals, after all. There are two men he is bound to by prophecy. If he and his paramour are to be of use to me in the future, they will have to stay on guard. I might need to send you on occasion to…help things along. I'm sure they will need it, for as good as they are at evading the law, they will now be trapped like rats in a cage, and while it would be fun to watch them squirm, I don't want them dead. Thankfully, they have been good at covering their tracks, at least as far as their true identity is concerned."
"…Do you think it's a bad idea having those two as contestants in the Survival Game? A pair of misotheists, becoming God?"
"…And why do you think they do what they do, Murmur? They do so because they believe that those who kill in the name of God, is one of the greatest evils in the world. And while humans have found many reasons for killing each other, and even with those two in charge, will continue to do so…but despite the darkness and blood they wade through on a daily basis, they keep their eyes focused on evil. Instead of acting against religion as a whole, at least overtly, they carve out the worst, as well as dealing with those outside of religion. I was most entertained by what they did to Jimmy Savile. He wasn't going to be exposed, save for being exposed posthumously."
"Well, not to put too fine a point on it, Boss, but he was exposed posthumously. Just a decade before he was originally. And he wasn't a church guy."
"Your point being, Murmur?"
"I'm just making an observation. I don't give a crap if they do that."
"Hmm. My point is that, do you think they would be truly bad candidates for the Survival Game? I don't think so. Still, they have this to go through first." Deus grinned. "This ought to be entertaining. One should pit those with ambitions to overthrow the gods against those who delude themselves into being gods themselves…"
Harry and Minene resided usually in an expanded trunk they purchased from one of the shadier magical alleys in Japan a few years back. It was cheaper than any hotel (once the cost of the trunk had been ameliorated anyway), and much better furnished too. So with Deus' words still echoing in their ears, they immediately got to their feet and hurried out of the room, heading towards the steps that led to the opening of the chest, getting sidearms ready. Harry checked a nearby enchanted mirror, and scowled. "…Minny…we're not at Torquay anymore. We're in Scotland. Specifically, Hogwarts."
She joined him at the enchanted mirror, which showed the outside view, and frowned. "…They haven't got their wands out. Yet. They just seem confused."
Harry met Minene's eyes. "We've done a good job of covering up our tracks, Minny. We're not wanted under our actual names, just pseudonyms. And we disguised ourselves whenever we've been out on the job, so to speak. So…DEFCON-4 so far. We're alert, we're careful, and we'll be demanding answers, but we're not going to be blowing anything up yet. Also, Occlumency to maximum. I recognise the old goat."
"The one who claimed you were a Squib, even though I know for a fact that you can use magic?"
"It came back when Moony and I were attacked, shortly before I met you, Minny. Otherwise, I wouldn't have survived. He might have just been senile…but something about this worries me. If what Deus said is true, I've been conscripted into the Tri-Wizard Tournament…"
CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS:
So…that just happened. For reference's sake, Harry and Minene are 19 at the start of this fic, which is set in 2004.
1. This was, of course, the legend at the heart of the 'Ming Dynasty Astronaut' episode of Mythbusters. Using period-accurate rockets, the rockets exploded, taking Wan Hu (or rather, Buster) with them. Given the incendiary nature of the myth, I thought this fitting for Harry and Minene to duplicate, though given that they do this in October 2004, they preceded at least the transmission of the Mythbusters episode by a number of weeks.
2. And I took this joke from Hellsing Ultimate Abridged's first episode.
