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Angelic Intervention

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Our Father,

Who Are In Heaven

Hallowed Be Thy Name.

Shite. I can’t remember the rest.

What am I even doing?

Praying?

I mean, I am a Witch, after all.

I haven’t set foot in a church in ages, not since I was a child.

But I’m desperate.

There’s a monster out there, one who is on the hunt.

Seeking to slaughter an innocent child.

MY innocent child.

And all to prevent some bullshit, half-heard prophecy from coming true.

Not that the details of the prophecy really matter.

It is just an excuse; a reason to make my little darling a target.

James and I have been too much of a thorn in his side in recent years.

But here I am going off on a rant in the middle of a ‘prayer’.

That is what happens when one is faced with an impossible situation.

So, despite my lack of experience, I am putting this prayer out to the Universe.

Please.

I am begging.

God.

Jesus.

Whoever is up there.

If you’re listening.

I need a miracle.

Please.

Protect my son.

Keep him safe.

This I entreat you.

Amen.

 

The prayer, regardless of how confused it might be, still fit the criteria set down from the Beginning. As such, once it was complete the disorganized missive immediately began to wing its way Upstairs, bound for the Celestial City.

In that, it was just like any of the millions of others uttered in the same exact moment.

And just like the rest, once it arrived in Heaven the prayer dropped into the hands of a seraph.

One of a massive cadre of lower-ranked members of the Celestial Host who had been given the responsibility of receiving and processing prayers made to the Supreme One.

It was in this manner that the system ran, just as it had for the millennia, almost since the beginning of time.

In that, Heaven was structured like something out of a corporate planner’s wildest dream.

Everyone had a job to do and did exactly what they were told. Not only that, but they did so without even a whisper of complaint.

For every angel knew that to question the Divine was to Fall, a fate that they trembled to even contemplate.[1]

 

Like the rest of their brethren, the seraph that processed the prayer did so without remark, without considering its contents.

To them, the data contained in the message was irrelevant. All that mattered was their duty.

And duty was ALL.

As a result, it took an instant for the prayer to move from the RECEIVED to PROCESSED.

A moment later, it was bundled with other, similar missives and launched onwards, moving up one rung on the heavenly ladder.

And so, it went, packets of prayers moving from one being to the next, categorized and summarized until all those millions of prayers were compressed into a single mote for the Upper Management of Heaven to file in the appropriate location, ready for the Almighty to read whenever She found the time.

But somehow, unexpectedly, there was something different about the brilliant mote containing the prayer of one Lily Elizabeth Potter. Something about it caught the attention of an Archangel.

 

The Archangel Gabriel, the Herald of God[2], had an eye for prophecy.

He could sense it.

And somewhere in this mote was a prayer that bore a distinctly familiar sparkle. Somehow, someway, the person or persons referenced in its contents carried on their shoulders the weight of a Divine Prophecy.

With the time rapidly approaching for the Great Plan to be brought to fruition, Gabriel could not risk the possibility that this prophecy might interfere with the Destiny of the World.

And so, he was determined.

Something must be done to resolve the prophecy sooner rather than later.

Someone must investigate the child involved in the divination, this…

Gabriel glanced down at the record which had caught his eye,

…this Harry Potter.


[1] For that was the fate reserved for the demons of Hell, their brothers turned Adversaries. And no one wanted to be like THEM.

[2] All because God had him make certain announcements to the mud monkeys, a task that Gabriel was not at all fond of doing. Still, it did give him a title that he could hold over the rest of the Host, especially Michael. Gabriel lived for those moments when he could claim precedence over the other archangel.