Harry was never one to believe in religion. After all, how could he when some of them supposedly put his kind through the witch hunt for being 'spawns' of the devil. So when he died with dear old Voldie, he definitely did not expect to see the fabled gates of heaven. It was a big, and probably higher than the Gryffindor tower of Hogwarts with some out worldly light from within making it seem like the gate cannot decide if it wants to be white or platinum. Still, to it had to be said that the stereotypes are not all true. For one, there are no clouds around the gate like the one in the muggle movies. In fact it looks like he's standing on white tiles, similar to what you see in most bathrooms. And most importantly, the supposed guard of the 'gates of heaven' St. Peter, is definitely not living to the stereotype.

"Who told you to be a hero and die? I do not need the extra work!"

St. Peter (if that was really his name) is an Asian looking guy in a pale yellow collared shirt and designer jeans. He's not that tall, and definitely does not act all that saintly. St. Peter was currently bent over a piece of paper with Harry's name on top in bold letters and an ancient looking Casio calculator beside said paper while muttering to himself.

"300+200-767+157-3+28...why does my job always have math..."

So really, no one can blame the recently killed hero of the wizarding world for staring at the gates looking lost and unsure.

"Finally! You gave me a hard job young man! So many numbers, why did most of the smart people go down instead leaving me with manual calculation? Too much greed I tell you! I need a system upgrade up here!"

"So, can I go in?" Harry asked with a more than a tinge of hope.

"That depends..."

"I knew killing Voldie was gonna get back at me..."

"Actually, that earned you points. Not a lot of them but points nonetheless. Your intention wasn't really to kill with the intent to kill 'kill' and end his existence. More like desperation, to save, self-protection, and the list will go on." St. Peter was rambling and Harry coughed to get his attention back. "Your deductions are pretty much what one would expect from a normal mortal boy. Less-than-appropriate thoughts on girls and the occasional boys, cursing, hating, tantrums, normal and expected stuff. In fact your negative track record is significantly less than the average mortal."

Harry then gave St. Peter a more confused look. "So what's the problem then?"

"I'm getting there! The point is everything you do goes to the track record." He pointed on the paper Harry previously saw him muttering about. "The good, bad, and neutrals. A certain level gets you inside the gate, a certain level gets you the one way ride down, and a certain level gets you a repeat of life until you decide where you really want to go. But you Harry James Potter are a special case, your plus points are higher than average."

"How is that bad?"

"I never said anything about it being bad. But the thing is, your score gives you the rare privilege of a choice. You can go inside the gate like a lot of other people, or you can be an angel and help others get inside the gate. Take note though, when you say yes you can be sent to unpredictable times, worlds, dimensions, all that crap. Neither can I say if you are going to be seen and interactive with your charge. All I can say is you will be an angel, pure in spirit."

A choice, something Harry did not have a lot of. He did not want to die at 17 but now that he can see the so called end, he wanted to see his parents and Padfoot again. He wanted to rest, but then again, it's hard to change who you are as a person and he always did have his hero-complex.

"I have two questions. Are my parents and Padfoot behind the gate? Then if I say yes, how long must I serve as an angel?"

St. Peter gave him a sad smile. "That's the thing, I can't say. What's behind the door is something I do not know, I'm the metaphorical doorman as you can see. And no one knows how long you have to serve as an angel, it's something only he knows." Here St. Peter points a finger upwards.

"Okay fine, I want to be an angel. Just please do not make me wear the white dress." Harry opened his arms, waiting for the wings and halo. But before anything could happen, St. Peter started laughing. Hard. "There is no white dress, why do you think I'm wearing jeans and a shirt? There are wings though."

With this white wings started to come out from Harry's back, wide and elegant as any angel wing stereotype. Harry raised a hand to see if they were as soft as they looked. "OW!" Apparently it was a pain to remove them as St. Peter stood beside Harry, one of his white feathers in his hand.

"For your records." Harry swore there was something evil in his smile. "You know Harry, technically, you just passed the quota to be an angel just now. The selfless choice you just did, intending to help strangers reach their heaven without the assurance if you yourself would get yours, that's what really makes an angel."

Harry though was still yet to move on from the painful feather plucking. "Was that really necessary? You could have asked nicely."

"Sorry, its better when you do not expect it. Regarding your outfit, you visualize what you want and it happens. I advise you to avoid red and black though, it looks tacky with the wings." Before St. Peter could finish, a tin can fell on his head from above. "OW!"

"Karma" Harry said with a smile, St. Peter gave him a glare for that. Inside the letter was a note from above, on the piece of paper was two words: Ciel Phantomhive

"Guess this is your first assignment kid, goodluck." Out of nowhere St. Peter pulled a string and Harry fell down the hole that appeared on the tiled floor.

AFTER SO LONG! I honestly did not expect to write again. But I had an idea that seemed plausible so I took the chance :) Hopefully, this would be another learning experience