Chapter Text
Everyone thought being the Master of Death was something special. It really wasn’t, and Harry wasn’t sure how the stories of his powers got so incredibly ludicrous. Sure, some exaggeration about war stories and the power and mighty deeds of heroes was expected but this…
Just last week, an intern had begged him to bring back his dead sister. After trying to console the young man, who couldn’t be that much younger than him, Harry frankly told him that he couldn’t bring back his sister, no matter how much he might want to. The boy answered that he understood, that the Master of Death had to have rules and couldn’t bring back anyone but he just had to ask. Harry was confused to say the least.
Then, it came out that a group of criminals wanted for kidnapping witches and wizards from the outskirts of society did it in the hope to make a deal with Harry. They planned to sacrifice them to him so he would add a bit of the victims’ lifespans to theirs. Harry had been on the team to find and catch them. Luckily, they hadn’t yet killed anyone.
But, the entire thing was so stupid. The idea that they thought he could do that, that he was some … he couldn’t say wizard because that was what he really was, or some miracle worker which he arguably was as well … so, the idea that he was some … god was disconcerting. And, Merlin’s pants, how did this group get the idea that he, the hailed savior of the wizarding world, defeater of Voldemort, slayer of a basilisk, rescuer of the helpless, hero, Auror, would have ever done what they wanted?
He was shaken that day. Were they serious? Or completely bonkers? In the following interviews, it was revealed that they were indeed serious and completely convinced that Harry as the Master of Death could basically do anything in regard to life and death and attributed him with other strange and mysterious powers as well and could be bartered or bribed with lives. Yes. As if Harry’s life hadn’t been crazy enough.
The nearly as shocking and worrisome part was that the other jurors didn’t even blink. The only reaction Harry noticed was that someone said that Auror Potter would never work for criminals. Nobody in the ministry laughed about the incredulous notions of the kidnapping ring. Nobody considered them insane – apart from Harry – and so those criminals were put into regular jail.
Thinking back, the jokes his juror colleagues made about him being invincible and immortal may not have been jokes. Harry regularly took point in dangerous situations, he was one of the strongest casters, he had a lot of experience in dealing with combat and was honestly one of the best Aurors they had at the time. But that didn’t make him immortal. He really had thought that they had just been joking around. Auror deaths weren’t that common anymore after the war and, really, why did they have to attribute his skills to him being the Master of Death? He was plenty good on his own without additional mystical superpowers. It was reasonable that after ten years, including his school years, he was an expert in acting under stress. His skills were reasonable. The strength of his magic was in the upper percentile, which was good and also pretty standard for an Auror in the field, but that still didn’t make him Death, nor did it make him an almighty force ruling over death!
"How did this happen?" he asked Hermione, completely perplexed.
"How did what happened, Harry?"
"Why does half of the wizarding world believe that I am some immortal super being with complete control over life and death?"