Chapter Text
Prophecy, Gabriel mused, was not a gift that God Herself should have shared, especially not with such lowly beings as humanity.
It was one thing when She sent missives down to humanity directly via the angels – or rather Gabriel, himself, as the Messenger of God. Such missives were IMPORTANT, and relevant to the Great Plan.
It was quite another when She chose to pass little hints about the humans’ internal business via their own people, those so-called Seers. Not only were their proclamations obscure and open to interpretation, likely the consequence of their puny brains being unable to comprehend the fullness of Her Word, but the attempts of the humans to follow or rebel against such things often interfered with Heaven’s responsibilities.
Just look at what had happened to poor, foolish Aziraphale.
He had just returned from a visit to the principality, and what he had seen had both shocked and appalled him.
It had not been for any specific reason that Gabriel had chosen to venture down to the unpleasant dust of the Middle Realm. Like all his fellow dust-bound agents, Aziraphale had been doing a satisfactory job at thwarting the Adversary, sending regular reports back up to be logged in the annals of Heaven.
Despite that fact, however, Gabriel had had a niggling feeling that something had gone awry.
But it wasn’t until he finally reached Aziraphale’s oddly chosen dwelling that Gabriel realized what it was that he had sensed. That lingering feeling, the one which indicated the presence of an unfilled prophecy, had grown stronger as he had approached the place.
“Aziraphale,” Gabriel said as he stepped inside, forcing a polite smile across his corporation’s face[1] as the small bell that hung above his head let out a ringing chime.
He could see his subordinate from the entry where he stood, seated as he was behind a high counter with a large tome resting opened upon its surface. It was clear that the angel had been reading from its contents before Gabriel had arrived.
After slipping a pair of oddly-shaped, wire-framed spectacles off his face, Aziraphale glanced up with a distracted gaze.
“Gabriel!?” As the Earth-dwelling angel stared at his superior in surprise, the archangel found himself rearing back in shock.
What was Aziraphale doing down here that had left him positively gleaming with the indicators of human prophecy?
Unaware of what Gabriel was thinking, the contaminated principality continued to speak, “what are – that is – is there a mission from Upstairs, Archangel Gabriel?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” Gabriel replied. “I simply thought that I would check in on you, Principality Aziraphale. It has been some time since your last visit to the Celestial City, has it not?”
“It depends on your understanding of time,” the other waffled, now clearly on the defensive, “even a near-decade is not a long time when one speaks of Celestial affairs. And besides, I have been absent for far longer without the privilege of a visit from Upstairs.”
“That is true,” Gabriel agreed. “But not during a time when the fulfillment of the Great Plan was nigh.”
“Oh,” the other replied, “I suppose not.” And then he asked, reluctance clearly audible in his voice. “Is it time for the Antichrist to appear then?”
“Not quite yet,” Gabriel admitted. There had been rumblings that the Adversary was searching for a suitable mistress with whom to create a Nephilim, but the same rumors also claimed that he had not yet made his selection.
The other sagged quite visibly in relief at Gabriel’s words, a disappointing sign, but before Gabriel could admonish his subordinate their conversation was interrupted.
From behind Gabriel, the door slammed open, causing the bell to shake and ring in a much more dramatic fashion than it had earlier.
“Dad, dad, you’ll never guess what happened at school today!”
A human child pushed past Gabriel’s legs, heading straight for the counter where Aziraphale sat.
While Gabriel was not a keen observer of such children, from the boy’s size he would guess that he was perhaps a decade or so in age, with pale skin and wild black hair that sprouted off in every direction. He was dressed neatly in some sort of uniform and carried a large bag, one which he proceeded to drop on his way behind the counter.
“Harry, my darling boy, what have I told you about running in the shop, especially when there are others present,” Aziraphale said, as he smiled down at the child, now hidden from Gabriel’s sight.
“Not to?” The boy said reluctantly.
“That’s right,” Aziraphale agreed. Then, with clear signs of his own feelings of reluctance, he led the little human back out from behind the counter where he had just darted. “Now then, what do you say to our guest?”
The boy, who was leaning against the angel’s leg, glanced up, meeting Gabriel’s eyes with his own startlingly green orbs.
“I’m sorry, mister,” he said quietly.
Once again, Gabriel had to force himself not to gasp.
For surrounding this small child was the very same aura that had so struck him earlier, the glow of human prophecy. And, from the strength of that aura, this child was likely the source that had contaminated the other angel.
“Aziraphale,” he said tightly, “who-?”
The wayward principality’s back straightened as if the child’s very presence had granted him a level of certainty that Gabriel had never seen in his subordinate[2].
“Gabriel, allow me to introduce you to my Son, Harry Potter,” he said, calmly but firmly. “Harry, this is my boss, the Archangel Gabriel.”
“Really?” The boy exclaimed, looking up at his – Gabriel nearly choked at the thought – his father?! “The one that Auntie S says has a wand up his -?”
“Harry!” Aziraphale stopped the child before he could finish the sentence. “Up to your room, now. And believe me, we will be having words later,” he added firmly. The boy pouted but followed the other’s command, despite a clear reluctance to leave his ‘father’s side.
Once he was out of sight, Aziraphale’s posture shifted to its more familiar submissive form, but Gabriel couldn’t forget what he had seen. It seemed that his subordinate had made a horrifying decision. It seemed that he had found something that was more important to him than following the hierarchy of Heaven.
“Who is that?” Gabriel asked, hoping that he had misheard the other’s earlier comments.
“As I said,” the angel repeated. “That is Harry Potter. My Son.”
The name did ring a minor chime in Gabriel’s brain.
“Oh, for Heaven’s sake,” Aziraphale said, letting out a sigh. “Harry is the prophecy child who you charged me to watch over the last time you came to call. The one who is destined to defeat a Dark Lord?”
Finally, the halo dropped. Now Gabriel remembered.
“But,” he said. “Your report said that the prophecy was mostly fulfilled? And besides, is it not the responsibility of the other humans to see to his raising? We are Guardian Angels, at most, not permanent caretakers.”
Aziraphale sighed again. “I am afraid that it is not quite as simple as all that,” he replied. “It seems that what we had assumed was the fulfillment of a prophecy turned out to be its formal establishment. Something about that damned soul which Harry has been prophesied to defeat still lingers on this plane and the prophecy will not be fulfilled until that final obstacle has been removed.”
“And besides,” he added, “when I acted on the child’s behalf – on your orders I might add – I became an integral part of the prophecy. I know that you can See it, O Great Messenger of God Almighty.”
Gabriel let out a huff but had no choice but to agree.
The contamination in Aziraphale’s Presence was unmistakable.
“Oh, very well,” he said, “I suppose that as long as you continue to fulfill your primary assignment, to thwart the work of the Adversary, then taking on this extra duty will be allowed. But know this, Principality Aziraphale, no measly human prophecy can compare to the Great Plan. That must always take priority.”
“Yes, Sir,” Aziraphale agreed. “I understand.”
Gabriel had his doubts about the Principality’s sincerity. Still, he knew that the other’s stubborn determination was not entirely his fault.
Even a human-proclaimed prophecy was a powerful thing, and if a prophecy declared that an Angelic Intervention was required, then the power of prophecy would make it so, he thought in disgust.
For that was what Gabriel believed[3].
Gabriel, the Messenger of God, had heard the echo of the Divine in Aziraphale’s words, enough to know that what he had claimed was the truth.
Human prophecy had – once again – interfered in Heaven’s affairs. And only time would tell how bad the damage would be.
So, after a nod of acknowledgment, Gabriel turned and walked out of the SoHo bookshop.
As he walked down the handful of steps and out onto the pavement, he paid no mind to the elegant black vehicle idling on the curb nearby. Nor did he notice the vehicle’s driver, glaring at him through the tempered glass. Instead, he moved rapidly past it, focused exclusively on the trip to the closest access point back Upstairs.
Of course, since Gabriel was merely the Messenger of God, and not God Herself, he once again failed to comprehend the fullness of the situation that he had just observed.
For while Aziraphale was indeed tied to the prophecy and the child, it would be more accurate to say that he had Chosen to do so. He had declared himself to be the boy’s Father, and a prophecy adapted itself to fit him in.
“Are you alright, Angel? I saw Gabriel through the window when we pulled up.”
The sound of Crowley’s voice disrupted Aziraphale’s contemplations of the conversation that he had just completed.
“What?... Oh, yes. I am fine. Merely lost in memory. It has been a wonderful time these past years, raising Harry, I mean.”
“Yes, it rather has,” Crowley agreed. Stepping up to the angel’s side, he placed his hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Now then, what say I pour us a spot of tea, and you can let Harry tell you all about our little adventure at the Zoo.”
“That sounds simply… Perfect.”
And it was.
[1] Gabriel had never understood the purpose of a human smile. Why was it that the mud monkeys had decided that the baring of one’s teeth was a friendly gesture? It seemed counterintuitive. But then maybe that was the point. Humans were fond of such contradictory ideas.
[2] For Aziraphale had been an uncertain thing, even back before he had been assigned to guard the Eastern Gate of Eden, and his time amongst the humans had only made him worse. There was a reason why Gabriel had to be so harsh with him at times, as an archangel it was his responsibility to keep his brothers in line. They wouldn’t want to risk further Falls strengthening the Adversary’s side.
[3] It should be noted that Gabriel’s belief was not based on any Word from God. Rather, it came from his own pride at being the Chosen Messenger of the Almighty. The greater the power that prophecy held, the more that he could hold his station over Michael and the others.