Just a piece I had written while writing A Jaunt through Time and thought you guys might enjoy reading. Enjoy, I had fun writing it.

An Excerpt From 100+ Ways to Piss off Death

First and foremost, I would like to emphasize that the matter in which I came upon my title as Master of Death was convoluted at best. The actions of an old desperate man, the greed of a power hungry dark lord, and the heavy hand of Fate. It came with no instruction manual, what I know now is only due to my misadventures, it was the actions of a formally mortal man stumbling in the dark, given unknown powers and being told he was effectively immortal.

I must confess that my beginnings as the Master of Death were riddled with much embarrassment as well as discovery. Justifiable, after all I was new to this whole Master of Death thing.

As I noted before, I was unsure of what I was, what I could do, and what powers I possessed. My younger years as the mortal Harry James Potter had been riddled with much adrenaline inducing adventures. Upon my later years the most adrenaline inducing events I was able to be present in where the births of my children and that one time me and my best mate Ron got roaring drunk, accidentally ended up crashing some muggle drug trading ring that quickly went down south and then ended in a muggle prison after subsequently losing our wands in the fight.

I have never felt fear like the one I did that day. Calling my wife to inform her where exactly I was had me swearing off liquor forever. I can still remember her banshee like screech as she screamed my name through the phone. Even the officer winced and gave me a look of sympathy.

Anyway. I missed the adrenaline.

Ahh those good old days filled with adventures.

So far all I had done in my short existence as Master of Death was float around aimlessly, shaking my head in confusion when asked to take over a problem or questioned on whether it was time to start the apocalypse in world B467.

Thus I did something terribly...rash, in my attempt to gain a little more spice in my 'afterlife' as the MoD I made a quick decision.

I decided to go back.

It wasn't my fault, not really. When I thought I should go back I wasn't very specific about when exactly I was to go back to. My magic, now much more powerful and sentient decided to lend me a hand. By the time I realized what was going on I had disappeared with a pop.

It was England. A time filled with plague, pompous bastards, terrible hygiene and liberal violence.

I have no idea how I was exactly elected but I chose not to question it. You see I had basically thrown myself into some random time period and had decided to 'go with the flow' as the muggles are so apt to put it, hoping to find some thrilling adventures.

Fear wasn't something I felt, I was alarmed if only for a few moments but I was already there and I found no reason to dwell on the fact that I was suddenly stuck in the past.

I was the Master of Death, there was nothing I should be worried about.

So when some random man comes up to him and asks if he would like to join the King's forces because apparently carrying Gryffindor's sword marks you a swordsman of highest caliber (Harry was sure it was the jewel encrusted hilt that convinced them he was some amazing warrior) he shrugged and said why not?

The Battle at Hemmington was bloody and devastating to both sides. 17th century England saw battles taking place with swords and it was all about honor and ridiculous things like that. I of course found myself dragged into the war as Commander in Chief. Apparently my sword fighting skills were pretty good, but it was my "imposing presence" that had them convinced I would bring them victory.

And so I found myself in some ridiculous armory, which I was sure hadn't been washed since it's making, my sword shoved in my hand and a black 'steed' being presented to me as a gift. I was sure this was just incentive, something to "butter me up", so that I would be willing to ride off to my death. Obviously I couldn't die, but that was not the point.

Anyways, I thought that it would be at least entertaining so I found no need to try to escape the impending war and my role in it.

It was with a battle cry from my second in command, that frankly speaking sounded like the last cries of a dying animal, that we rushed into battle.

Now imagine this. We have two troops, all heavily armored marching forward to meet in the middle, running as fast as their heavy armor could allow and crashing into the enemy, swords a blazing. More than a few of the men found themselves bouncing or being tackled down as they crashed into the enemy while others found themselves skewered as they ran into pointed swords. I found myself face palming and shaking my head before turning my eyes up to the heavens, did mortals have no logic or self preservation?

I of course joined the battle, let it be said that I am no coward. I jumped into the fray and was doing rather well, considering that I had never done this before.

It was through an unfortunate set of circumstances that I soon found myself without my arm.

Really, if it had happened to anybody, but me, I would have questioned the poor person's luck. As it stood, I had been thrown of my horse after the animal had found his hoof stuck in between someone's ribs. Thrown off I found myself right on the path of a swinging sword. It was without much fanfare that the man holding the sword managed to cut of my arm with one single swoop.

I was horrified and in shock. I stared at my arm laying a few feet away from me in faint horror, silently wishing this had never happened. It was at that moment that I felt a tingling on what was left of my arm. Slowly ever so slowly my arm began to regrow.

White bone, arteries, muscle, skin.

I flipped. I couldn't help it. My arm was growing out from my shoulder! I might have let out a scream which attracted a bit of attention.

The man who happened to have chopped of my arm was Commander in Chief of his own little army and had seen what had occurred from the beginning. He was even more terrified than I was as it seemed.

Perhaps he thought it was a sign of God, or perhaps of Devilry, whatever crossed his mind I'm sure it was frightening in itself. For upon hearing me scream in horror and shock, he seemed to have unfrozen and screamed as well rushing off and calling his men to retreat.

I will never know how I got out of that one. Everything was a little blurry after that you see, the blood loss, the adrenaline….the unwashed bodies pressing against me. Anyway, for some reason no one claimed witchcraft or screamed foul. In fact, it was quite the opposite, I seemed to have become some Messiah. Not knowing what else to do I conceded with the title and went with it.

I smiled that benign and grandfatherly smile that Albus Dumbledore had been known for with eye twinkle and everything. Acting all saintly and what not I kissed many babes, threw holy water around, and preached from the 'bible' (Which was really a blank book. The peasants not questioning my word for none could read). The last thing I wanted was someone to change their mind and try to burn me at the stake, thus I found myself a holy man.

And that is how I found that I could somehow re-grow my limbs.

And how I found myself saddled with entering a monastery and being referred to as Father Chris. It was my magic that allowed me to be elected as Pope to Rule beside the King. Not that I called it magic, I claimed them as miracles.

I found myself enjoying playing that I was a man of God, finding that my word was as good as law. I made plenty use of it. I also might have been the reason why the King's court (and the king himself) began to dress in what one would consider modern day drag.

What can I say. I am the son of a Marauder.

Death was not amused.

Apparently my ridiculous preaching to the peasants and then my insistence that "yes, men should wear make-up, why shouldn't they wear heels? Of course it's alright to wear dresses, why ever would it not be?" had resulted in a drastic change in history.

Death was saddled with much paperwork because of my actions.

How was I supposed to know that I would be the reason for the dress code of a whole country that would last for centuries?!

But that is neither here nor there.

Overall things could have gone much worse.