For all those who are coming here because you want to read the new and improved version of Heaven's child, welcome back. To those who are just joining, welcome newcomer. I'm going to start off by saying that I'm sorry I had to do this, but I could not write anymore in the original. It was just too cluttered. So, I am reworking the whole concept, and I think you'll enjoy the results.

I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter. Nor do I own Heaven, Hell, or Earth, but I do own the green-eyed angel.

Alright, here we go:

If there's one thing that I have learned over my many travels, it is that there are many things in this universe that must never be spoken of. There are stories that must never be read, books that must never see the light of day, knowledge that must never be known.

Likewise, there are many things that are not meant to be hidden. There are things that no matter how hard you try to hide them, they keep coming back.

This is one of those stories. And this story is about an angel. An angel who would learn that anything is possible, and would eventually learn that a little courage…

Is all it takes to Break the Skies.

When most people envision Heaven, they think of pure white hallways and shining gardens, where celestial beings sit around all day playing harps.

Others think of it as a pearly white city, lost in the clouds and littered with pillars and columns made of white marble.

This is not the case at all.

Heaven, in its most basic form, is like a limitless vault. Imagine going along a hallway that stretches on forever, and on either side are doors that lead to people's personal heavens. Millions upon millions upon millions of people, from all the eras, living out their greatest fantasies and being at peace.

However, if you continue walking for long enough, you could reach the angel quarters. The Barracks. There, the walkway ends, and you will see a grand square, where all the angels can gather if called. Before you would stand the main temple, where Michael and Raphael sat as the seat of heaven's power, their father long gone. All around would be angels, going about in their true forms and performing their divine tasks, all the while singing praises to their father.

However, below that main quarter there are the dungeons, filled with angels that have disobeyed or failed in their duties. These are the worst parts of heaven, where no light can shine.

It is there, deep in the dungeons of Heaven, that we find the beginning of our story.

Locked away in a small room, behind a door made of solid flat iron, sat a crystal. To anyone viewing it, they would immediately be taken aback by its size. It was easily thirty feet tall, and was glowing a soft white shine that made it look like ice. The crystal, however, was not transparent, so no one who had even made it this far had ever even known what lay inside the thing.

They should have at least tried to find out.

A sharp, clear note rang out around the room, resonating from within the crystal. The noise was repeated again as something banged on the inside of the crystal, louder this time. Hairline fractures spread out across the crystal's surface, spiderwebbing down over the entire front as whatever it was demanded to be let out. A scrabbling could be heard from inside the crystal, as if multiple claws were scratching along the surface in an effort to escape.

Finally, with an all out push, the crystal broke, and a strange creature spilled out onto the floor.

It was an angel, the likes of which few had ever seen before.

It was small, for an angel, reaching only thirty feet long with a relatively thin body. Its form was in the shape of a dragon, but adorning its head was a pale, blank face. Two shining, green-green eyes stared out from the face, and on either side of it, facing to the right and to the left, sat two more faces, this time in the form of animal heads. On the right hand side was what looked like a Hawk, and on the other side was a bear. Its long, sinewy tail was covered in fine, gray hair at the end, and on its back rested about a dozen wings, all branching out from two primaries. Going all the way down his spine were sharp, iridescent spikes that looked as if they were forged straight from the crystal that had entombed him.

The wings were strange. Instead of being bright and colorful like most other angels' wings, these were gray. Not in the sense that that was their color, but rather, they were the kind of gray that denoted and absence of color, instead of the other way around.

They flexed experimentally behind the angel as he gripped the ground beneath him, finally being able to feel after thousands of years entombed inside the crystal. He had been afraid that he would go insane, just sitting there waiting for something to happen to him.

Stretching his body, he felt his corporeal form pop and hiss after a millennia of inactivity. Reaching a paw up, he slid a long, sharp nail over his faces, dragging minute parts of the crystal off of his skin and cleansing it of the suppressing residue. The crystal had had the passive affect of making his grace useless, which is why it had taken so long to break it: he had only been able to use physical strength.

But that was done now, and finally he could get on with more pressing business: making good on his escape. His bright green eyes fell upon the flat sheet of metal before him. There was no way he would be able to open that physically, but if he used his power...

Sliding over to the door, he extended a small amount of grace into the latticework and, with his mind, gave a small push…

And voila! The door slid open without a sound.

The angel now paused, its great, ponderous head swinging back and forth as it looked up and down the corridor, trying to decide which way to go. The angel had a feeling that he should go left, even though there was nothing to indicate a difference. So, with aching slowness that only comes after years of endlessly waiting for something to happen, the angel moved its draconic form down the hallway, its soft, gray and white scales sliding smoothly along the ground as it walked. A gray mist began to float off of it in waves, its grace finally able to pour out and surround him. It would be a while before it attained its natural, white hue, and until that time he would have to make do with the gray.

Sure enough, after a while the angel came to another door, this one much more intricate than the last one. Sending his newly freed grace into the door, he was shocked when he felt his power rebound, unable to open the lock on the door. If it could blink, it would have. Sitting back on its haunches, the angel puzzled over the door, trying to discern why it would not open before hit him.

This was a prison. If an angel actually managed to get out of its cell, then why should there be any way for an angel (such as himself) to get any farther than the guard door? Pushing his grace against the door once more, the angel recoiled as he felt the sting of repulsion once again smack into him. Snorting loudly, the angel shifted his twelve wings in befuddlement, trying to divine a way around the obstacle.

After a considerable amount of time had passed, the angel finally decided that it would simply have to wait until someone came along and opened the door. He had waited thousands of years for his freedom, he could wait a while more.

Shifting into the shadows, the angel waited for an indefinite amount of time. It could have been a few minutes, it could have been years. He had no way of telling.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the door scraped open with the sound of thousands of pounds of metal sliding roughly along stone. Green eyes narrowed as he watched another fellow angel step through the open doorway. He was larger than the green eyed angel, at around fifty feet tall with the body that looked to be part lion and part ox, with three heads adorning his neck. Six gorgeous multicolored wings covered his back, and he strode forward with a sense of pride.

However, the green eyed angel could tell from the angel's halo that he was not as high ranking as he. He was just an ordinary angel, while the green-eyed angel himself was just a little higher than an ophanim, one of the wheels of heaven and obviously powerful. Still, the angel remained in the shadows, sliding his tail forward to hold the door as the other angel swept by him, not even pausing to look into the shadows. Smirking to himself (mentally, of course; he didn't have a mouth) the more draconic angel slid his sinewy body through the doorway, closing it behind him as quietly as possible, locking the poor bastard in. Serves him right for being a terrible guard.

Moving forward, the angel eventually found himself entering a gigantic library of a sorts. All around him swirled other angels of all different ranks, ranging from simple cherubs to high ranking powers, all busily moving about and searching through tomes and scrolls. The angel's gray wings shifted in awe, his tail wagging slightly as he stared up at the nearly endless shelves of books.

Something told him that a long time ago, before he had been imprisoned in the crystal, he had loved to read.

He couldn't remember much though. The crystal had robbed him of his memories. Most of everything he had known had been stripped away, even his own name. All that remained was small impressions of his likes and dislikes, and his rudimentary knowledge of heaven and Enochian.

His green eyes caught the gaze of a power that was flying four levels above him, and the angel turned to fully face him, before rumbling a challenge. Descending from his place, he landed before the draconic angel with a snarl. His form was much more humanoid than the gray scaled angel, and, like most other angels, he was larger. Eighteen wings sprouted from his back, the six primaries flaring a green golden color. On his neck rested seven faces: an ox, a lion, an eagle, a badger, a snake, a zebra, and finally a wolf, which was the one facing the green-eyed angel. "Who are you?!" he yelled, his harsh voice causing the other angel to shrink back in defense. "How dare you look me in the eye, worm! What kind of wings are those?! ANSWER ME!" he cried, obviously enraged.

The green eyed angel had no idea what he had done to make the other so angry, but he wasn't staying to find out. "So sorry, but I must go!" he said quickly, before snapping his wings up and flying past the power with all the haste his still stiff wings could muster. He heard the power give a cry of rage and begin to give chase, but he was nowhere near as fast as the green eyed dragon, and before he could even build up any speed, the angel was already out of the library and soaring through heaven's skies, the clouds parting around him as he finally felt the sun on his long neglected wings.

Looking down, he could see thousands of angels milling about, all doing God's work. He felt a small ping of jealousy bounce around inside of him as he saw this, and he paused in his flight to ponder this. Why did he feel this?


Here he was, a useless, nameless angel, sitting above heaven and looking down on angels all working and moving. They had purposes. They had goals. He did not.


He did not belong here.

Descending from the clouds, the draconic angel came in for a soft landing on the courtyard square, his wings folding up neatly behind him. Striding over to the center of the courtyard, he poured out a little bit of his grace into the seal in the middle of the crest on the ground.

Angels all around him paused in their work to look at him with curious looks. What was he doing? What was that strange light?

The gray winged angel ignored them as he continued to pour power into the small circle, until it was glowing pure white. His grace by now had shaken most of the metaphorical dust off, and he could feel his old power surging back to him as an almost limitless supply of energy fueled the growing portal.

Finally, the crest fell away to reveal a hole in the floor: the only way an angel can descend to Earth without falling.

He could hear the patter of feet as angels surged forward to try to stop him, but they were far too late. Pushing himself forward, he slipped his head through the portal, the rest of his body soon following. He felt a pair of teeth close around his tail, and with a snort of annoyance he kicked his rear legs out, one of his paws connecting with something solid, and suddenly the teeth were releasing him, and he was sliding through the portal.

And then was falling.

Free falling.

The wind whistled past his ear as his celestial form began to glow white with power. He had to find a vessel soon, he stood out too much like this. Sending out a ping on his angel radar, he eventually felt a returning call coming from a space up ahead. Beating his wings heavily, he set off towards his destination, leaving heaven and all its wonders behind in favor of a new life; one that he could call his own. And maybe, hopefully, he could remember who he was.

Harry cried out as his Uncle's fist slammed down into his face for the third time, knocking him off his feet and sending him slamming into the wall. "You ungrateful Freak!" his Uncle snarled, aiming a kick to his solar plexes as his beady black eyes narrowed in fury. "We take you in, out of the goodness of our hearts, and this is how you repay us!"

He aimed another kick at Harry again, hitting the ten year old in the kidney and causing him to whimper in pain as tears rolled down his face. Vernon snorted at the pathetic mess that lay before him, before the beefy man bent down and grabbed Harry by the hair and hauled him to his feet. Harry didn't even try to resist, only put his hands on top of Vernon's to try to alleviate some of the tugging pain that he was causing.

Yanking the cupboard door open, Vernon chucked the broken and bleeding boy into the dark cell-like space before slamming the door. Leaning down, he whispered through the grate, his mustache wobbling on his face like a great fat caterpillar. "When I say clean the dishes, I don't mean break them. The next time you even think of trying to pull a stunt like that again, I guarantee you there will be no more need to put you in here."

No, instead Harry would have a nice little grave beneath the lilies in their backyard. Or dumped off a bridge somewhere miles away. The end result would be the same.

The almost-eleven year old cowered as his Uncle walked away, his great rolling footsteps booming on the carpeted floor in ways that should not be possible. It had been Dudley's fault that he had broken the plate, the fat boy had tripped him intentionally! But of course, saying that had only made Uncle Vernon hit him even harder, all the while mumbling curses against the boy for soiling his son's name.

And now here he lay, bleeding and broken on a cot in the darkness. Helpless. Alone.

Oh God, he was so alone.

The green eyed boy curled up into a ball, his hands wrapped around his sternum as his bruises continued to pound pain into his flesh. He let out a sob, unable to believe the amount of pain he was in. He should have known that Uncle wouldn't care. He was just a Freak after all.

Suddenly, Harry felt a hot cold feeling sweep over him, and a sharp *ping* bounced around in his head, before the sound faded. Harry gasped as the feeling passed over him, and an answering shudder seemed to leave his body, radiating away from him in all directions. Moving into a sitting position, Harry wrapped his grimy and bloody sheets around his small body, waiting for something to happen.

He waited,

and waited,

and waited...

He sat like that for hours on end, not daring to fall down asleep in case the surge happened again. He had never felt anything like that before, and he wanted to make sure it was not an illusion.

Suddenly, Harry's eyes widened as a light suddenly bloomed into existence, illuminating the dingy cupboard in a radiant white light. Gasping, he looked up and immediately squinted, raising a hand to his face to shield his eyes. "Hello, little one," he heard an otherworldly voice say, and Harry's breath caught in fear as he coiled in tighter to his own body reflexively, terrified of the stranger's voice. "Who are you?!" he asked, his voice quivering in fright. A moment passed, before the voice replied, "Fear not, little one. I am an angel of the lord, and I mean you no harm."

The angel truly meant it. He had no intention of harming this small boy. He hated to use one so young, but after flying around the world a few times, he was sorry to report that this was the only one he could find that could host him.

"An angel?" Harry gasped, lowering his hand to gaze in wonder at the ethereal light. The angel retreated slightly, making sure that the boy didn't get even a glimpse of his true form. "Yes child. I have come for you," he said. Harry's mouth opened wide as shock welled up inside of him as hope began to rekindle. "You mean, you'll take me away from here! Away from them?!" he cried, pointing out the cupboard door to indicate the Dursleys. He felt more than saw the angel nod, and then the celestial voice was back and whispering to him.

"If that is your wish. But first, there is something I must ask of you," the angel said, its deep, resonant voice echoing into the boy's head. Harry cocked his head to the side in confusion. "What is it?" he asked.

"I need you to allow me to enter you. You are my chosen vessel, and the only one on Earth who can house my grace," the angel said grandly, the sweep of wings sending wind rustling across Harry's face as his mouth opened even wider in shock. "M…me!? But I'm nothing! I'm a Freak! I'm not worthy of anyone, especially an angel!" he cried.

Suddenly, the light grew more intense as trails of smoke suddenly wrapped around his form, embracing him in a warm hold. "That could not be farther from the truth!" the angel rumbled, sending shivers down Harry's spine. "You are not worthless, and you are not a Freak. You are one of my Father's creations, worthy and forever deserving of my love and praise."

Harry was positively trembling, tears beading on his eyes as he felt the praise pass over him. That was the nicest thing anyone's ever said to him. Looking up again at the light, he let a small smile crawl onto onto his face. "What do want me to do?" he whispered, bunching the blankets up between his fingers in anticipation. He felt the angel chuckle lightly, before a small breeze swept through his hair, as if the celestial had just ruffled his head. "All I ask of you, little one, is permission to enter your body. Think carefully before doing this, for the consequences are grea-" "Yes." Harry said, cutting the angel off before he was even done with his explanation.

He felt the angel huff, and a rustling was heard, as if the angel were sitting up and glaring at him with disapproval. "Foolish boy! Do you not even have any thought for your own safety! I have just asked you to sacrifice your free will for mine, and you say yes without a second thought! Surely it is not sheer righteousness that is steering your course, is it?" he asked, concern lacing his voice.

Harry cowered under the angel's admonishments, his whole form screaming of meekness and submission. "Nothing would make me happier than to see the end of this life," he finally said, opening his eyes again and raising his head back up to the light, tears beading in the corners of his eyes as he once again stared into the ethereal light surrounding the angel's form. "All that living here has brought me is pain and misery. I don't care what I have to do to get rid of that. If what you offer is salvation, then I gladly accept with all my heart. You have my permission, angel."

He felt another breath of air on his face, as if a great dragon were breathing down on him. "Are you sure. Should we proceed, you will not have any say in what I do. You will be asleep in your own body, and this may be the last time you ever have free will of your own. Are you positive you want this?" he asked. Harry nodded emphatically.

"If it means an end to this sorry excuse for a life, then I'll take it. Enter me," he said.

The angel cocked his head, and Harry felt those eyes scrutinizing him once again. "Very well then."

Suddenly, Harry's mouth was gently opened by two tendrils of light, and a bright blue smoke was pouring into him through his mouth. Harry felt it sliding down his throat and wrapping around his heart, and an incredible heat began to surge through his body. The last thing he did before falling into the peaceful embrace of slumber would forever haunt the angel now possessing him:

He smiled.

He, Harry James Potter, smiled, before falling into the sleep that is only known by those who have the pleasure of hosting an angel. He felt like he was being chained to a comet, a celestial wave of intent, a divine storm that could blow an entire city over if he should so choose.

The green eyed angel closed the vessel's mouth, and then all was quiet.

All was calm.

All was peaceful.

All was soft.

His dark gray wings sprouted from his back, only two of his many wings managing to manifest. But that didn't matter. The other wings were of little importance: they were for fighting only, after all. The angel took in a deep breath, before releasing it slowly, testing his brand new lungs. He couldn't even remember if he'd ever had a vessel before, and he was absolutely positive he had never had one so young.

He was being bombarded by all sorts of sensations that were completely alien to him, the most important being the many discolorations on his skin. Pressing his grace against his vessel's surface, he felt the swollen skin cells immediately shrink, and the angry red marks disappeared back into the pale alabaster coloration that did not seem natural for a young child.

The angel rolled his head around, relishing the feeling of sensation: the feel of cloth sliding across skin, the feel of his fingers (FINGERS! OH FATHER THIS IS AMAZING!) sliding through his hair. The feel of his nails as he slid them over his highly sensitized skin. The feeling of his wings resting behind him, the feathers brushing the sides of the walls, quivering with wonderful, glorious feeling!

Pushing himself up, he tried to stand fully erect, but immediately hit his head on the low hanging ceiling. Turning his eyes up in curiosity, he stared in wonder at the wood above him. The last time he had seen the state of evolution men and women were in, he recalled that they had been running around with stone tools and furs. He remembered feeling apprehensive about…something. He tried to grab onto the remembered feeling, but nothing was coming back. Every time he tried to grasp at the memory, it slipped away from him. He only remembered the sheer nervousness that…something would happen. What? What did that even mean.

Anyway, it was clear that man had come a long way since then. But how far? Obviously they had eaten the forbidden fruit, but how much exactly had changed since he was put to sleep?

With a flutter of wings, he was standing outside the door of the cupboard, looking around with curiosity. The angel marveled at the plaster walls and carpeted floor. Drawing in a breath through his nose, he felt his mind reeling with the sheer sensation of smell on the human level. Truly, someone had messed up when they said it was forbidden to partake in the pleasures of the flesh. This was amazing!

Shifting his legs, he took his first step forward, wobbling uncertainly (although admittedly from a third person view the wobble was so minute it was little more than a shiver). Elation ran through his body, but his face remained expressionless, the angel unused to having features. There was no expression when your face was just a blank slate with two eyes.

Very quickly the angel was walking around, his bright green be-spectacled eyes taking in everything around him. He stared in reverence at the electronic clock on the wall, sheer wonder filling his gaze.

He stood there watching the clock as it changed, his fascination piqued now more than ever. Holding still as a statue, barely even drawing breath, he used his superior angel eyesight to peer into the inner workings of the mechanism, tracing every single cable and the route of the power, working faster than any human could possibly hope to, divining the meaning behind the technology.

He held that pose for hours, never blinking as he tried to catch up with three thousand years of technology. He didn't even notice the rising of the sun, nor the change of the clock from seven to eight.

Because of this, he missed hearing Harry's Uncle come down the stairs, enter the kitchen, and stop short when he laid eyes on him.

He did notice, however, when the bull of a man roared at him. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing out!? Did I not make it clear last night that no FREAKISHNESS WAS TO BE USED IN THIS HOUSE?!"

The angel turned to the fat man.

He blinked.

"Who are you?" he asked.

Vernon gaped.

Alright, there we go, completely redone first chapter. I've taken the angels back to their original form: they are not cute. They are not cuddly. They do not have anime eyes.

They are cold, immortal beings who do not understand humans, and are nowhere close to doing so. The angel is not Isaac, it is someone completely different. You're going to love it, I promise you. I will have more coming soon, this is just the start.

How did you guys like the pure form angel? I think I've refined it, and it turned out fairly well. I'll be editing this later, so please, if you find any typos let me know.

Rate and Review- Arudon