Work Text:
When Harry found out he was the Master of Death he wasn't thrilled. Cursed to live forever and watch his friends and family die was just the icing on the cake to Harry's shit show of a life. Of course he broke the wand, threw away the ring, and kept the cloak. What its a family heirloom! The first few weeks were fine. Well not fine as there was construction to do, trials to attend, and funerals to morn at. However there was nothing to show that he had gained the great 'honor' of being the Master of Death.
A month later Harry hit the ground hard when he tripped on the stupid Death Stick. He had stared at it for a moment trying to figure out how it got there and in one piece. When he bent to pick it up it had purred in his hand. Purred! Like a cat! The result was hurling the wand out the window and pretending like it never happened. He never mentioned it to anyone.
A couple days later, while eating lunch, he bit something hard slicing his gum. In shock he spit out the mystery item along with some blood. The Resurrection Stone laid innocently on the table next to the mashed potatoes. The cloudy black rock pulsed slightly as if laughing. Harry glared down at it while wiping the blood from his mouth. So out the window it went. Granted throwing your problems out the window doesn't really solve them, but fuck was it satisfying.
The next week he found both the stone and the wand sitting on the bedside table on top of the cloak. The cloak that had been in a trunk with his other valuables that he pretends don't exist. Unless he is feeling particularly depressed and masochistic. Deciding that he didn't want to deal with it he threw them all into the trunk and went to bed.
And so it continued. He threw them out windows, into fires, mailed them to people, left them in the desert, dropped them into the ocean, etc... At some point it started to become a game of how durable and persistent they were. He remembered one time when Hermione walked in on him taking an ax to the Elder Wand. Sparks and fire blossoming around the room with every strike turning the furniture to ash. She had been horrified at what he was doing. Not that Harry blamed her but the wand had it coming.
However he digresses. After a while Harry accepted that they weren't going anywhere. So now he had clingy ancient artifacts. Though the finishing touch to this whole Master of Death thing is this. This right here.
“Behold you are too late Winchesters! The summons is complete. Death now walks the Earth! There is no way you can stop the apocalypse now!” This middle aged man was ranting. It reminded Harry of when he used to be forced to listen to Voldemort's speeches. Harry figured it was an Evil Villain thing. He swept his hand indicating Harry. “Now all the Horsemen are on the mortal plain. Struggle all you wish Dooms Day is now!”
Harry looked down at the summoning circle. This is the first time he has been summoned. To say he is shocked would be a vast understatement. He was in the middle of brewing an important potion. There had been no time to put it in stasis. One moment he was standing in front of a cauldron the next he was standing in a warehouse with three unidentified men. One of which was going full throttle into speech mode.
“Your going down Lucifer! We will take care of your horsemen and then trap you back in the underworld!” Yeah this scene looks so familiar. Just replace the muggle cloths with robes, guns with wands, and de-age... everyone and boom. Harry's ever encounter with Voldemort.
“Dean keep calm. We need a plan. Did you call Cas?” Asked the other Winchester. At this point Harry was smelling smoke. It smelled a lot like bloodwort for some reason. He glanced down only to see his robe on fire.
“Shit!” Harry started beating his robe trying to put out the fire. He must of spilled some of the potion on his cloths when he was summoned. The fire only became worse the more he tried to smother it. Harry grew more concerned he really didn't want to be burned. Stripping out of his robes and throwing it on the ground he started to try stomping it out. Harry didn't notice that he had everyones attention at this point. The trash tal... cough... threats stopped to watch him.
Finally he managed to put the fire out. However there was now a giant hole on the main body of the robe. Harry released a sigh. Another robe lost to the wonders of potions. Mournfully he left the robe on the ground. He could always buy a new one later. Noticing the lack of noise he glanced up to see three sets of eyes watching him. “... What?” He glanced around again taking in the blood, dead bodies, daggers, and runes now.
“Ah,” clearing his throat he tried to speak what he felt were suitable lines for this sort of thing. “Who was it that decided to summon the Master of Death? Speak now mortals.” He stood straight with his hands on his hips. Granted he probably didn't look all that impressive with his white muggle t-shit that had three kids on it and the statement 'Let's sacrifice Toby' and black jeans. The irony of the shit was not lost on him. It was why he bought it in the first place. This situation just made it more emphasized.
“Death is British?” The one named Dean asked looking scandalized for some reason.
“Really Dean? That is what you have a problem with. That he is British?” The other asked. “Not his cloths, or his hight but that he isn't American.”
“Is there something wrong with being short?” Harry asked with narrow eyes. Why do people always comment on that? Sure he was a little shorter than average, but he was still normal!
Dean also narrowed his eyes at him. “Sam we can't all be giants like you. Also it is a valid problem. The bad guys in movies are always British. They get a lot of bad press and now it is happening in real life. That is just unfair.”
“Wow, now I'm evil am I? Since when am I the bad guy?” Granted it alternated by the year whether people found him the Savior of the Wizarding World, or the next Dark Lord in training hell bent on killing us all. However Harry wasn't the one who murdered all these people to summon someone.
“Stop it. Who are you?” Demanded Lucifer. “I summoned Death not whoever you are.” Harry looked back down at the summoning circle, but the runes still made no since. He really should learn more about the subject if this was going to become a thing.
“Yeah I don't know who you were summoning, but your stuck with me.” Harry said nodding to Lucifer. “Now what did you want. I was in the middle of something.” Completely done with trying to be some pompous immortal god thing. Plus Harry just wasn't going to pull it off with what he was wearing. His entrance was ruined by having to stomp out a potion fire. Case in point he had already told them who he was and no one believed him.
Dean snorted while the giant, Sam, just looked like he was trying to analyze the situation. Harry thinks he might be in shock or he was just so used to shit happening to him that he didn't care anymore. It could go either way really. “I asked who you are.” Lucifer growled.
“Yeah, good idea. We should all do interdictions. Why don't you go first and then tell me why I'm here. Also if you know how I can get back. That would be great.” Harry responded sounding bored. He conjured a stool as it looked like this was going to take a while.
“You dare to mock the great Lucifer.” The middle aged man hissed doing an admirable impression of Parseltongue. “The King of the Underworld, Archangle of the Fallen, Ruler of the Kingdom of Air, The Ancient Serpent, The Destroyer, Damner of the Mortals, and Bringer of the Apocalypse.” So maybe he did speak Parseltongue since one of his titles is Ancient Serpent. It would make sense. Also holly shit he had more titles then Dumbledore. Was he for real? He didn't think there was anyone with more titles than that old man.
Harry turned his gaze to the two others in the room. Pointing at the more reasonable one. “Yeah, ok. So I'm Dean Winchester and this is my brother Sam. We are hunters. We hunt down supernatural beings. Doesn't matter if they are gods, ghosts, or monsters. Who are you? You know besides Death.” Well there went his plans of having a friendly conversation with them. Since they killed people like him.
“Hullo, my name is Harry Potter. As for titles...” He guessed they were doing titles since those two seemed to be saying them. “I'm the Master of Death, Undesirable Number One, and The-Boy-Who-Lived. However you can just call me Harry.” He gave a little wave. If he was ever summoned again he would have to come up with a better introduction. He can ask Luna. She always has the best advice for dramatic entrance speeches.
A loud pop sounded behind Harry just as something hard pegged him in the head knocking him off the stool. “Fuck!” The Death Stick laid innocently on the ground next to his hand. He was sure it was supposed to be back at his house in the trunk. “Did you see that?” Harry demanded to his audience. “This is abuse. You all witnessed it.” Ignoring the wand for now he got back onto his stool muttering. “I am throwing you in a wood chipper when we get back.”
“Right as much fun as sitting in a building with three strangers smelling heavily of iron is, I would love to get home. So why am I here?” A sad hum came from the ground but it wasn't his problem.
Lucifer recovered first. “If you are the Master of Death then you can call Death. Call him.” The middle aged man demanded like Harry was a secretary or something. The problem with this is he doesn't know how to summon or call Death.
Was Death even a real person? Wasn't death supposed to be a metaphysical being not a real one. “Well why do you want to talk to Death? He is really busy you know. Collecting the souls of everyone who dies. Do you know how hard that is?”
Now that Harry thought about it. Would one person be able to collect all the souls of people who die. There are over 7 billion humans. People die every day for whatever reason. Add on a natural disaster or a war. Wow, how would Death even do that? Does he have minions to help?
Lucifer looked really pissed right now. “Call him!” He demanded again.
“Yeah ok, but why?” It is really important to know why. Summoning Death can't be for a good reason. Who summons death besides evil masterminds or psychopaths. Plus the number of dead bodies laying around this place really enforces that idea.
This time Dean stepped in. “You don't need to call Death. In fact it would be great if you could go back to... wherever you came from.” Sam looked a little nervous whispering fiercely into his ear. It reminded Harry of the good old days when Hermione used to do that to Ron and him. Maybe he should go visit them when he gets back. It would be good to get their opinion on being summoned. Of course he would have to explain to them that he was now the proud owner of the Deathly Hollows. Yeah, maybe not.
“Hm, yeah I would really like to go back, but I don't think I can without fulfilling some wish of the summoner. At least that is what it says in the books.” Granted those books were talking about demon summons. The price was also the soul of the summoner. Harry's eyes widened. Does he have a price he needs to take from people who summon him. He frowned. What would he even do with a soul? Could he just give it to Death?
“Then call Death and leave!” The middle aged man all but shouted. With a sigh Harry did the only thing he could think of when trying to call a friend. He yelled.
“Death! Hey Death! Someone wants to talk to you!” Well at least no one can say he didn't try. He kind of hoped this worked. On the other hand he really didn't want death to be a real person as the workload they must have would be astounding.
A man in a nice 3 piece black suit formed out of the shadows. Polished black dress shoes clicking on the concrete floor. “Lucifer. You finally have the guts to summo...” The man stopped and stared at Harry. Swiftly he bowed his head. “Master I was not aware that you were coming to this realm. How my I be of service.”
Harry looked him over. He did look very tired. There were thick black rings under his eyes. In fact it looked like his rings had rings. “... Death. When is the last time you slept?” He couldn't help asking. This was a man who worked himself to the bone. He could tell.
Death looked a bit surprised at the question. “I do not sleep, Master.” He said slowly as if afraid to correct him. Harry frowned. Well ok Death may not need to sleep, but then why were there black rings under his eyes?
“What about a vacation? When is the last time you had a day off?”He pushed. Surly he has had some days where he just doesn't work.
“... I do not have vacation. If Death were to take a day of then nothing would die.” Ah, yes. That is true. If Death stopped working people would be running around with mortal wounds like everything was fine.
“I see. You work very hard. Good job.” Death looked a little confused but took the compliment. Harry glanced over seeing three very confused people. Right. “Death the middle age... Lucifer wants to talk to you. He apparently meant to summon you but got me instead.” That was close.
“Of course.” Death looked down at the circle spotting the wand on the floor. “Master you should keep that stick away from others.” He pointed to the wand that was slowly rolling closer to the edge of the circle as if to explore. With a sigh Harry summoned the stick back to him. It leapt into his hand vibrating happily. Harry scowled at it but said nothing.
“Death.” Lucifer said ignoring Harry. “There is work to be done. Today we shall start the apocalypse!” The middle aged man said wearing a vicious smile. Death looked at Lucifer passively and then turned to Harry. His eyes trying to convey something. However Harry wasn't sure what.
“Only if Master permits it.” He said slowly. Eyes boring into him. Right, Harry had to decided. He was the one to tell Death what he can and can't do. So should he let Death start an apocalypse and decimate human kind. He was pretty sure it only effected humans.
Man he was not ready for this kind of responsibility. Harry was still in the Defenestration Phase of accepting his title. The best and most important phase of all. He looked back at Death. His eyes still glaring a hole in his head. Apocalypse or no apocalypse that is the question.
Well killing is wrong. At least people say its wrong when they are not actively trying to get Harry to murder Dark Lords. So murdering all of human kind would be frowned upon. However at the same time humans kind of suck. They have made Harry's life hell from year one.
“Really?” Asked Sam in disbelief. “You should just say no. Hasn't anyone taught you right from wrong?” This is the first time he has spoken to Harry and it is to insult him. Well he doesn't know Harry. He doesn't know what Harry has been through, unlike the wizarding world that think they know.
“Look here Giant you don't know me. For all you know I could have been raised by mass murders and eat people. So don't go judging me like that. I wasn't but still.” He said with a huff. “I mean I know killing is wrong, but when you spend your whole life being told you have to kill off a Dark Lord that kind seems like a very flexible rule. Plus what have humans, in general of course, ever done for me. There have been a few that I like, my friends for example, but over all their not nice.”
Sam stood quietly staring at Harry with large sad puppy dog eyes. Not the eyes. Harry hates the eyes. Luna has the puppy dog eyes down and she uses them with a vengeance. A sigh came from beside Harry. Death stood there pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked like he was contemplating the merits of still being here.
Oh, that's right Death has to be super busy. How could I forget. Wouldn't the apocalypse just add to his work? Harry paled at the thought. Death sitting behind a desk. Stacks of paper covering every inch of space. Every time he finished one stack a new one would appear. A never ending flow!
He rounded on Lucifer. “Yeah, no. There will be no apocalypse. What kind of person does that to someone? You could kill Death. He doesn't need that sort of presser. Have you even thought this through?” Lucifer looked pissed off and a little confused. An interesting combination of emotions on the man.
“... Death can't die.” He said slowly as if talking to a child. “He is an immortal being that ends others. However he himself can not end. He has been around since times immemorial.”
“Yeah, but there is such as thing as mental death. When you work so hard that mentally you die. And you wish to do this to Death. The poor man has been working his entire life without a break. I have always been told that a death causes so much paperwork for the living. Imagine how much paperwork there would be for him.” Harry said passionately eyes bright with conviction.
Everyone looked on confused even Death. Although he was the first to snap out of it. “Well Master has spoken. I will not be joining your apocalypse Lucifer.” With a bow Death made his escape. Harry nodded in understanding. He chose the right thing.
“Now how do I get home?”