Just One of Those Days…
There are lots of moments one anticipates. Some end up meeting the expectations, while others are abysmal let-downs or awe-inspiring surprises.
And then there are the ones where those moments are so off of your expectations, you feel like you drank one of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes's experimental brews during a tea party with a centaur, a Hungarian Horntail, the 2082 Winter Olympic Brazilian Curling Team (9th time gold medalists!), and Luna. While wearing a pink chiffon ball gown with matching pumps.
This one fell in that last category.
Harry James Potter had lived a long, fulfilling life. He married his one true love, had 3 amazing children, loads of grandchildren, worthwhile career, etc., etc., etc.
At age 132, he finally found his match not against insane Dark Lords, dangerous creatures, or a Quidditch accident, but the ruddy Dragon Pox. A few lovely days on his deathbed saying his fond farewells to friends and family, he closed his eyes for the last time.
Only to open them again. Instead of the train station like the time he was a teenager, or whatever other metaphor the high powers though appropriate, he was standing in a decent sized room. About twice the size of the Headmaster's office, there was a large fireplace off to one side, a desk directly in front of him, and a little nook with several empty bookshelves. All in all, a fairly standard office/study that would be found in any white collar profession.
Except for the 7 foot skeleton in a cowl holding the scythe. Who seemed suspiciously peeved.
Years of "Potter Luck" had given Harry a sixth sense regarding these situations, specifically the ones where he was about to get the full centaur experience.
"What?" sighed Harry. Might as well skip the formalities.
"Master, we have a slight issue we need to discuss"
"I haven't had 2 of those damnable trinkets in over a hundred years, don't call me Master."
"Technically, you were the last to hold all 3. The title will not pass until someone else acquires all 3," said Death, now definitely a little ticked off. "Given you snapped the wand and burned the pieces, it may be a while. Not to mention what you did to the stone."
Oh, yeah. His 21st birthday. George and Luna co-hosted. His memory, as were most people's who were there, were a little fuzzy about that night. He still wasn't sure where they sourced that much Jell-O. But the little Crumple-Horned Snorlack Luna brought from Sweden was adorable and seemed to like chewing on the stone. And Mione's tattoo, good Merlin, that was worth the six months of finding glitter everywhere afterwards.
Anyways….
"So how is Fate shafting me this time?"
Because what else?
"Due to certain performance issues and numerous complaints, we had to let an Agent of Fate go…" said Death haughtily.
Pause
Harry felt his eyebrow twitch, before inquiring, "That was my caseworker, wasn't it?"
"Actually, yes…"
"Well, that explains a lot"
Death gave a slight nod before continuing, "Due to certain rules, the list of eligible replacements is rather short. As the reigning Master of Death, you qualify."
Harry let out a deep sigh.
"Can I say no?"
Silence
"Ok then," said Harry, "so basically I guide people's fates?"
"There's actually a bit more involved than that, the Manual is over on the desk if you'd like to glance through it," said Death, before vanishing with a soft poof.
"Pussy"
Now while being pissed at his rightful afterlife being derailed, Harry had learned sometimes you just have to suck it up and move on. He'd hunt down the twins to help plot revenge later.
After several hours of reading through a book that would make even Mione flinch, a rather… interesting section had caught his eye.
"Oi! Death! Get your bony ass back here, I got a question!" yelled Harry.
Death reappeared a moment later.
"You've decided to accept then?" inquired Death calmly, though Harry could hear the annoyance in his voice.
"Like I've got a choice"
A quick signature and a handshake later, Harry became an Agent of Fate.
"Now about this question…"
Harry flipped a quarter of a way into the Manual, to a section titled "In-world Adjustments: How to Help your Hero Build Character."
"According to this, anybody subjected to a prophecy is given a massive cut/gain in stats, subject to orphaning or death of all family members blood or otherwise, one Deus Ex Machina per "arc", and immediate removal of all common sense?" said Harry with a rather cheery tone.
Death straighten a little before replying "Yes, the Prophesied Heroes are usually expected to go through a bit of suffering to help them becoming a more humble, well-meaning individual."
Harry merely nodded, before flipping farther into the Manual. He glanced up when he found the section he was looking forward to showing to Death.
With a grin that would make the Cheshire Cat weep in shame, Harry glanced at the section title.
"Agent of Existence Compliance Rules"
"According to this, Agents of any department are bond to follow the rules of this Manual, correct?"
Death nodded, beginning to feel a little uneasy.
"Now as an Agent, I would be expected to follow these?"
Death nodded again, his unease growing along with Harry's grin.
"Except there's an issue with this bit here," Harry said as he flipped a few more pages to another section.
"Interdepartmental Hierarchy"
Death cocked his head not quite understanding, it established the order of priority for departments so there was less infighting or Agents interfering where they shouldn't.
"According to this section, the Death Department is top puffskin, yes?"
Death, though still a little confused and worried at Harry's behavior, did feel a swell of Pride. It had taken a lot of maneuvering for his department to get the top spot, but they'd done it and nothing could undo it without plunging the multiverse into chaos. Death nodded to Harry's question, though was becoming increasing worried for the new Agent's mental state.
Harry once more flipped a few pages, though stayed in the same section. When he turned his new page toward Death, he was a bit surprised to learn that yes, a skeleton can sweat.
There, written in a tiny little out of the way foot note:
"Only a Master of Death can override an Agent of Death in any interdepartmental dispute"
Death felt a chill sweep through his ancient bones.
Potter was both Master of Death and an Agent of Fate. Surely he couldn't be allowed to work both? Death turned his gaze back to Harry, who had flipped a few more pages.
"Individuals can hold more than one position in more than one department, with the initial position being their official rank"
"So according to this, I outrank the Death Department, even though I am also now an Agent of Fate, so I have veto power over any of the other departments' choices regarding my charges. Next time you want to play me, be wary of those funny little asterisks"
Death could again only nod, the plan had been to stick Potter with this position as payback for letting the stone get eaten by the damned Snorlack that had promptly vanished. Now? He had full power over the universes on his manifest. And they'd stuck him with some of the most problematic universes that most of the other Agents had been happy to dump.
Harry leaned back in the desk chair before putting his feet on the desk and locking his fingers behind his head.
"I've spent most of my life getting shafted for the sake of entertaining the masses; you really think I was going to spend my death the same way?"
Death could only pop away in silence. Harry just grinned again. Minnie and Mione may have dismissed divination as codswallop, but Luna was fond of her tarots.
He leaned over and began to flip through the list of his new charges. He wondered how the departments were going to feel about the twins and the Marauders using his new office as headquarters to prank all of existence. All he knew for sure was that unholy amounts of glitter were going to be involved.