The Archangel Vs The Devil Child
Chapter 34. The Archangel Vs The Devil Child
The Next Day
It was a dreary London they landed in after portkeying from the sunny Avalon.
The first thing they noticed was the rush of cold gale slamming into them, flapping Harry's grey trench coat and Daphne's pastel-blue robes. It would've undone her intricately-fashioned bun if she hadn't already applied magic to keep it prim and in order.
A shiver ran down their spines as the abrupt cold seeped into their bones, causing their hair to stand on end and sending goosebumps peppering their skin.
"I don't miss this weather," Harry muttered under his breath, glancing upwards while casting a Warming Charm on both of them.
The sky was shrouded behind a dense veil of black clouds, obscuring the morning sun and casting an early darkness over the city. The atmosphere was heavy with the promise of impending rain. And the scent of petrichor permeated the surroundings, its earthy aroma mingling with the chill in the air.
Daphne dispelled the Invisibility Charm as she stepped out of the narrow back alley.
Harry followed her lead, pocketing the portkey and walking beside her, joining the sparse crowd on the pavement alongside the main road.
"How far is this orphanage?" she asked, raising her hand to shield her eyes as another gust of wind swept over them.
"Just a couple of streets away," he replied, ducking as a stray plastic bag fluttered away.
Five minutes later, they stood before the large gates of Happy Days Orphanage.
Behind the ivory gate lay an extensive property.
The colossal white mansion loomed majestically, its grandeur evident even from the gate, which stood a good fifty metres away. A single path, paved with a mosaic of white and red stones, stretched out from the gate to the mansion. And flanking the path on either side were expansive green lawns, meticulously maintained and bordered by trimmed hedges.
"There used to be a fountain of the Crucified Jesus there," Harry pointed to the middle of the path. "I wonder what happened to it."
"The mythical God of muggles?" She arched her eyebrows, mildly curious.
Harry scratched his cheek. "Yes and no. Some regard him as God, while others think of him as a divine messenger, a prophet, if you will. And then there are those who don't believe he existed at all."
"Interesting," she hummed, eyeing the watchman as he approached them.
"Who are you?" the man asked gruffly.
Harry offered a blank piece of paper through the bars, using wandless magic to cast a silent Confundus Charm. "We are from the government, and we have business with the matron."
The watchman gave a dubious nod and pulled open the gate.
"She is in the church, conducting the morning prayer."
Harry led her towards the double doors of the mansion.
"You know, this is where Tracey used to live before you took her in," Harry said as they strolled towards the open doors.
"I know," she replied, scanning the place with a contemptuous look. "She shared more than a few horror stories. A part of me wants to burn it all down to the ground."
Harry nodded with a grim smile. "Believe me, I'd help you with it. But let's not do that. I'd rather not torment these poor children by making them homeless again."
"Obviously. Unlike you, I'm not reckless enough to listen to my intrusive thoughts."
He playfully shoved her, nearly sending her stumbling sideways. "I'm not reckless either."
"Oh? Remember jumping from the skyscraper in New York just a week ago to follow that Obscurial?"
…
He didn't have a suitable retort for that, which made her lips twitch.
They entered just as the morning ceremony concluded, with some of the bored children spilling out to find more exciting tasks and others scurrying back to their rooms.
The kids shot them curious looks as the duo navigated through the aisle between the pews.
Sister Maria stood on a raised platform before the podium, clad in her customary habit. Her eyes widened at the sight of him, a mixture of shock and apprehension flickering across her features.
"Long time no see." He smiled, coming to a stop before the platform as she hurried down to greet them. "Do you remember me?"
"Harry? Tracey's best friend?" she asked in an urgent tone.
He winced, resisting the urge to mention that he wasn't Tracey's best friend anymore. "Yep, that's me."
"Why are you here?" she hissed, surprising him, her eyes darting around in fear. "Go away before he comes. Go away if you value your life. I know what you are, what Tracey is. Leave, now!"
Harry froze in his spot, his instinct urging him to use Magiscape and delve into her memories, but he resisted the temptation. "I don't know what you think we are. I don't know the man you fear," he said calmly, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. "But fine, we'll leave. Just give us Daniel. He's Linda's twin; I'm sure you know them. We've been tasked with relocating these children to a more suitable environment. Here's the required paperwork."
Instead of taking it, she stumbled back, her eyes watering and her hands trembling uncontrollably.
"Sister." Daphne stepped forward, reaching out to support her before she could collapse.
"He is not here," she managed to say, her voice quivering, gently pushing Daphne away after regaining her balance. "The boy is no longer here."
"Then where is he?" Daphne questioned.
"He is with the Lord." She wiped her eyes, looking away, unable to meet her penetrating gaze.
Daphne glanced back at him.
"Daniel passed away, that's what she means," he said stiffly, rubbing his face, hoping against hope that it was a natural death rather than something more sinister. "What was the cause? Was he sick?"
"In a way," she mumbled, slumping on the edge of the platform, her tone laced with such despair as if she had lost her own son.
This was not inspiring confidence in him. Harry's suspicions deepened as he pieced together what must've happened.
The church killed Daniel upon discovering his magic.
Anger slowly swirled in the pit of his belly as he imagined the little kid who was killed off before he could even attend Hogwarts. It only turned more fiery as he thought about the boy's bubbly twin, who was eagerly anticipating a reunion that would never come.
What was he going to say to her? How could he possibly break the devastating news of her brother's cold-blooded murder to her?
"Can you be more clear? What happened to him?" Daphne demanded, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her fingers digging into her upper arms. She seemed either unable to read between the lines or unwilling to do so.
A new voice entered the conversation, its tone powerfully melodic yet tinged with an unsettling authority. "I sent him to God, where he will be cleansed of his taint and allowed a better existence," it proclaimed, each word resonating with an eerie certainty.
Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap
The sound of approaching footsteps drew their attention, and they turned to see a monstrously tall man entering the church.
He stood unusually big and broad, towering at least seven feet tall. His caramel-brown skin seemed to emit a subtle glow under the church's dim lighting, lending him an otherworldly aura. Long, flowing golden hair framed his face, and his warm golden eyes held a mesmerising intensity. Clad in a pristine white cassock, he exuded an air of absolute authority, commanding attention with every step.
Sister Maria shrunk under the newcomer's gaze and walked away to his side, before turning left and disappearing into a corridor, escaping the upcoming clash.
"I didn't know mere priests are allowed to kill children nowadays? What is this, the Dark Ages?" Harry stepped forward, positioning himself protectively in front of Daphne, his wand sliding into his grasp with practised ease.
The man smiled, unperturbed and unthreatened by his stance. "But I am no mere priest, devil child. I am Archangel Michael, the Champion of Justice and the Protector of the Church," he declared with an air of unwavering confidence, his voice carrying the weight of divine authority.
…
…
Harry closed his eyes for a second, using Magiscape to see the truth, and the thing he saw in the soulscape stole his breath away.
In this realm where magical beings appeared as golden figures bound in sea and muggles as grey, the soul of this man was something altogether different. A blinding silver silhouette, towering and overwhelming, eclipsing everything else. It was so mighty and palpable that his tendril vaporised before it could even reach him.
He didn't have the ability to manipulate the angel's soul.
Magiscape was ineffective against him.
Still glaring at him, Harry fished out the portkey from his pocket and pressed it in Daphne's hand. "Go."
"Bu—"
"NOW!"
Thankfully, Daphne complied, activating the portkey as instructed. Yet, to their horror, the magic fizzled out, leaving her standing there, frozen in disbelief. A sense of dread settled over them as they exchanged bewildered glances. Were they trapped?
Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap
"This is a church, the domain of God, bestowed with an abundance of holy energy," the angel proclaimed, his voice measured and calm as he slowly advanced towards them. His gait was unhurried, a serene smile still etched upon his face. "I'm afraid your dark contraptions won't work here, nor will any of your devilry. Surrender, and I'll make this painless. I'll give you to the light."
Harry tried forming a spell, but the magic simply fizzled out, some force pulling it in every direction, sucking it dry.
They really were trapped.
"So you're the brother of Lucifer," Harry remarked casually, his words a calculated attempt to buy time as he prepared for a desperate move. He clenched his muscles and pressed his feet firmly into the ground. "He didn't have anything good to say about you. Now I know why."
The angel halted in his steps, his expression hardening as he fixed Harry with a piercing gaze. "You have met him? You know where Lucifer is hiding? Tell me, and I'll consider sparing you."
Taking advantage of the lull in the moment, Harry acted swiftly. "Close your eyes, Daphne," he instructed, his voice urgent yet determined.
Scooping her up in his arms, he bolted forward with all the speed he could muster.
CRACK!
The ground where he stood earlier exploded.
The sound of their sudden departure echoed through the church. Harry sprinted towards the open doors, his heart pounding in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Wind whipped at his face and hair as he raced across the church floor, the tiles crumbling beneath his feet with each frantic step.
Finally bursting through the doors, Harry leapt out onto the lawn, the cold wind biting at his skin. His sudden appearance startled the few children who were out in the terrible weather, but he paid them no mind as he focused on getting Daphne to safety.
"You're fast," the angel's voice boomed as he flew out of the entrance, enormous golden wings flapping behind his back, keeping him afloat. "But are you faster than light?"
Suddenly, the entire area was bathed in golden light.
Harry instinctively shielded Daphne with his body, crushing her between himself and the grass, fearing it would burn them. But to his relief, nothing happened.
"Go, wait for me in the Transportation Chamber. I'll be back once I take care of him," he instructed, pressing the portkey in her hand and activating it.
"Wait! Harry—" Daphne's protest was cut short as she disappeared with a pop.
Now that he was alone and no longer needed to worry about her safety, he rose to his feet and spun around to face the angel.
"Children, back into the house," the angel commanded, and the kids scampered away obediently. However, they couldn't resist peeking out from the windows alongside Sister Maria once they were safely inside.
"Why are you here in this world?" Harry inquired, kicking at the ground and propelling himself into the air, hovering at a safe distance from the angel. "For Lucifer?"
The angel pulled his fluttering golden hair into a ponytail and gestured towards the mansion with a solemn expression, the structure now concealed behind blue translucent walls. "Yes, my brother needs to return and face the consequences of disobeying Father. But that's not all. This world is so fragile and empty. There are no gods here, no divine realms. So I see it as my duty to spread the gospel and introduce this world to their God. But that also entails protecting these people. And that also means I must eradicate every last one of you."
Harry's face contorted into a scowl, his shout cutting through the roaring wind like a blade. "We don't need you, foreigner. We don't need your God. We don't need your endless wars. We don't need this world to match yours. Just go back to where you came from and leave us in peace."
The angel, unfazed by Harry's hostility, met his gaze with a calm resolve. "Foreigner? Says the devil child. But you are not from here either, are you? At least not entirely," he replied, his words laced with a hint of amusement, conjuring a spear of ethereal light, its glow casting an eerie illumination.
Meanwhile, Harry's hand tightened around the hilt of his wand, his knuckles turning white.
"I was born here. I will die here. I am from here." Harry dodged the tossed spear, letting it fly past him.
Yanking his wand downward with a determined flourish, Harry tapped into the primal power crackling within the storm-laden clouds above. With a surge of focused will, he drew forth tendrils of lightning, each arc illuminating the sky, the air humming with raw energy as he channelled the tempest's fury.
With a flick of his wrist, Harry unleashed the gathered power, releasing it in a dazzling cascade of white-hot bolts that streaked across, zooming in at his enemy, lighting up the battlefield with an otherworldly brilliance.
Crackle!
Crackle!
Crackle!
Crackle!
The archangel's wings beat with a thunderous rhythm, allowing him to weave through the swirling chaos of his unleashed power. With a grace that belied his giant build, he deftly navigated between the jagged bolts of flesh-charing lightning.
They both paused, floating in mid-air above the mansion, like characters in some epic showdown scene. The dark clouds churned above, looking like they were gearing up to give the city below a thorough soaking, maybe even a bit of snow to top it off.
"Tell me why my light did not affect your soul? Why did you not mutate? Are you a devil child or not?" Michael's voice was soft and curious, and yet it reached him all the same.
Harry frowned, realising what that light was for. "Maybe you're too weak. Yeah, that's it."
Around them, the atmosphere seemed to hum with anticipation, as if awaiting the next move in a high-stakes game of chess played on a cosmic scale. The air sizzled with latent energy, charged with the intensity of their confrontation.
The angel smiled and simply disappeared.
The next thing Harry knew, a forceful impact sent him hurtling towards the ground, his senses reeling as he struggled to regain his bearings. Pain blossomed in his head, a throbbing reminder of the merciless kick.
With a grimace, Harry fought against the disorientation threatening to overwhelm him, his fingers fumbling with his wand in a desperate bid to regain control. Twisting the familiar wood in his grasp, he channelled his coherent mind, willing himself to slow his descent before he crashed unceremoniously onto the earth below.
With gritted teeth and steely resolve, he managed to transition his freefall into a precarious glide, narrowly missing face-planting and breaking his neck.
"You still have a chance. Tell me where Lucifer is, and I'll spare you," the angel said from above, looking truly divine with his golden wings out in the backdrop of storm clouds. If he didn't know better, he'd have thought the thunderstorm was his creation.
Growling, he apparated and reappeared just a foot before the angel.
Then he swung his leg with all his might, putting every ounce of his otherworldly physical strength into it.
The kick connected with the angel's face and sent him flying like a bullet.
The angel shot upwards and plunged right through the clouds, creating a literal hole and allowing sunlight to finally spill through, falling on the ground, creating the only patch of sunlight in the entire city.
Harry's instincts flared with urgency, as he sensed the impending danger. With lightning reflexes, he apparated away in the nick of time, narrowly evading the deadly trajectory of the holy spear by a mere millisecond.
The angry visage of the angel made his heart soar with pride, particularly that broken nose.
The two engaged in a deadly dance, their movements a blur of supernatural speed and ferocious intent. With each clash, the surrounding area trembled and groaned under the strain of their immense power, the very ground far beneath their feet threatening to break from the aftershocks of their titanic struggle.
Vanishing and reappearing, they closed the distance between them in the blink of an eye, exchanging a flurry of blows aimed to inflict maximum bodily harm. The very air crackled with tension as they traded blows after blows with unrelenting force, the sound of their collision echoing like thunder amidst the chaos of the raging storm.
"Enough!" the angel roared, waving his hand and sending a pure destructive force just as Harry tried to kick him in the face again, wanting to see the Godling bleed, wanting the stain of ichor to cover every inch of his skin.
The force caught him and he apparated away again to safety.
He stood on the ground, not even breathless, glowering at the angel in the sky.
It was getting annoying. The angel was only slightly stronger than him, but his speed and elegance in air was hard to match. He needed to pull him down to the ground. He needed to pluck his wings. He needed to kill him.
Gritting his teeth, he went with the reckless plan.
This would either destroy him or give Harry a bitch of an injury.
He vanished with a pop and materialised before the angel.
Even as the angel thrust his light spear, he didn't dodge and let it sink into his gut.
Squelch!
Instead of disappearing again, he screamed in pain and pushed further, letting it impale and break through his back.
"What are you doing?" the angel asked dubiously as Harry cupped his face, his nails digging into his ichor-smeared face.
Just because his tendril weren't strong enough to survive the angel's presence in the soulscape didn't mean the fucker was totally immune to his power.
This should do it. Or he would be a goner.
He latched onto his soul directly from the skin contact. Then he stared into his golden eyes and commanded, "Die!"
The angel stiffened, his golden irises widening, his face paling, his ethereal form flickering. His skin began to shrivel up and crack, as if the moisture was drained out of it. A tortured scream clawed out of his throat as his flesh greyed, as his feathers began to wilt, abandoning his once awe-inspiring wings.
Harry pushed him away, sending the angel spiralling downward through the sky in a chaotic whirl of golden blood and fluttering feathers, resembling a wingless bird caught in a violent storm.
With a deafening crash, the angel collided with the lawn below, the impact creating a massive crater that seemed more akin to a freshly dug grave.
Harry threw up blood and disintegrated the spear that was lodged into his stomach.
His wound began closing as his organs rearranged. It wasn't instantaneous, but his healing factor was nothing short of ridiculous. He could never thank his mum and Lucifer enough for taking away his body and soul's limit. If not for that, he wouldn't be alive after such a fatal injury.
He repaired his shirt and trench coat, hiding his slowly healing injury behind the fabric.
It hurt, it hurt like hell. But he would survive. And that was all that mattered.
He closed his eyes just as the first droplets of rain began to fall from the darkened sky, heralding the imminent arrival of a merciless downpour. Within moments, the deluge enveloped him entirely, soaking him to the bone. Yet, he welcomed the sensation, the cool wetness serving as a refreshing balm after the intense heat of battle.
Seconds later, he opened his eyes and dropped from the sky, piercing through wind and water. Only when the ground was near that he applied the charm, turning his fall into a glide.
Jogging towards the crater, he found the body of a Godling, of an angel.
Damn, he just killed an angel.
It was… exhilarating.
Before he could celebrate, a flash of golden light seared his eyes.
When he could see again, the angel was standing on his feet in the middle of the crater, not sporting a single scratch on his body.
"What the fuck?" he couldn't help but utter.
The angel conjured another spear at his side. "What do you take me for, devil child? A mortal who is destined to die? You can manipulate the soul, I see. A dangerous power, a disgusting ability. I will be careful and won't underestimate you further."
…
…
Without another word, Harry apparated away back to Avalon. Fighting him again when he couldn't even be killed was just a waste of time.
He would come again to kill him for good, when he would have a way to do it.
But this was his victory, wasn't it? He definitely trounced that angel.
~xXxXx~
He reappeared in the only place from where magicals could use portkeys or apparition in Avalon, the Transportation Chamber, and was stunned by the sight that greeted him.
He had expected Daphne to be there with Miss Tonks, ready to give him a piece of her mind, stilling him with her cold glare as she waited for an apology, throwing a sarcastic comment about his recklessness.
What he didn't expect was this.
The Transportation Chamber was filled with the stench of blood. Laid on the floor were a dozen dead bodies of aurors, torn apart as if attacked by a beast, their limbs strewn away, their intestines clawed out and spread in a pool of blood.
Wait, is that a demon?
With a wave of his hand, he dried himself before striding purposefully towards the cluster of figures gathered around the lifeless form of a red-skinned woman. As he drew nearer, a heavy sensation settled in the pit of his stomach, a foreboding unease that made his skin crawl.
"Harry." Miss Tonks' voice broke through the sombre silence, her tone soft and apologetic, as he knelt beside the fallen demon, his gaze fixed upon her motionless form.
"What happened?" he asked, caressing the demon's red face.
It was still soft like her real skin, but barely warm. Everything appeared unchanged, honestly. Her pastel-blue robes still made her one of the most beautiful women, though now tainted with red. Her silky, long blonde hair remained unchanged, yet her once intricate bun was unravelled, with wayward strands framing her face. The only noticeable change was the hue of her skin… and the absence of her beating chest.
"According to the reports, she turned into a feral demon moments after coming here. Then she started attacking and killing indiscriminately. We lost good men and women because of her. In the end, we couldn't hold back and had to eliminate her."
A sudden urge to fill the chamber with the fiendfyre crossed his mind, to burn down all these killers.
But he reined in that urge, deciding to focus on the important task.
He gathered Daphne's body in his arms and apparated directly to Saint Mungo's, shattering the wards that protected the entirety of the island, baring it to the outside world, exposing it to GPS satellites that revolve around the planet, revealing it to the nuclear submarines that were stationed in the nearby waters.
But he didn't care. There was a chance she might still be alive. And he wasn't going to waste time finding the nearest floo.
Everything was strange after that.
It was like he was huddled in the back of his skull and idly watched the black and white telly through the two gaping openings in his skull.
He watched Tracey breaking down and sobbing before him.
But he felt nothing.
He watched the aurors stream into the hospital with their wands raised and take his body away for breaking the law and endangering the country.
But he felt nothing.
He was put into cuffs and thrown into a holding cell, despite Miss Tonks' angry protests.
But he felt nothing.
Suddenly, his mind offered him a cruel whisper. 'Only if you hadn't wasted your time with that angel. Only if you had portkeyed away with Daphne. Then you absolutely could've undone the mutation in her soul and save her."
He felt not—
A lone tear dropped from the corner of his eye, and the dam broke.