Beginning Announcement: So, I started writing this story in 2007 and posted it on and I've decided that I wanted to revive it and see if I could continue writing it, so that's what I'm doing. I can't really promise anything with my busy schedule. I may get further than I did originally but then again I may get stuck again and stop writing it. I do like this story a lot though and I've gotten a lot of good feedback for it so we'll see what happens.

Now, it IS a crossover between Dead Like Me and Harry Potter. The only difference is my reapers are all my own characters. I made them up. Except for Rube, who I am including from Dead Like Me just because I like him.

And just note that when I wrote this, I was setting it in 2005 because of their death dates and so in this story it is 2005.

Disclaimer: I do not own anyone or anything from Harry Potter or the idea of Reapers from Dead Like Me or even the people I have based their looks off of. I only own the characters themselves so don't please don't steal them.

Now, finally, here's a lovely poem to go with it:

"Reapers"

-By Jean Toomer

Black reapers with the sound of steel on stones

Are sharpening scythes. I see them place the hones

In their hip-pockets as a thing that's done,

And start their silent swinging, one by one.

Black horses drive a mower through the weeds,

And there, a field rat, startled, squealing bleeds.

His belly close to the ground. I see the blade.

Blood-stained, continue cutting weeds and shade.

Chapter One

You'd Think Being Dead Would Come with Some Perks

Hi.

You've probably never heard of me, nor would I have expected you to.

My name is Phaelin. Phaelin Barker. And two months ago from today, I killed myself.

No, I'm not kidding.

I hung myself in my bedroom closet because I felt as if life was no longer worth living. To be completely honest, I still feel that way, even now, after being successful in ending my life.

There's just one little problem though that's keeping me on earth.

But maybe I should start at the very beginning…

*

You see, before I died I had just been walking home; it was then that an older man passed me by. He stopped me, touched my arm, and tried to ask me some questions but I shoved him off and he gave me a final touch.

I'm not saying he touched me; it wasn't sexual harassment. He just swiped his hand across my forearm, gave a little squeeze, as if he were saying goodbye, and then let go.

It was an odd touch; as if he were taking something from me, something I couldn't see. But I brushed it off in disgust before making my way to my house.

This is where I, henceforth, did the undertaking. I didn't cry for myself or for my pathetic life and I didn't have anybody who still cared to say goodbye to. I just put the noose, which I had skillfully knotted, around my neck at the perfect angle for immediate death… and then I let go.

I didn't know what I was expecting; Heaven, Hell, darkness, peace, no thoughts, absolutely nothing?

Well, I surely never expected to reappear in front of my closet, staring at the hanging dead body that was mine.

I screamed. I freaked out. I was confused. I was supposed to be dead. Was I a ghost? I found out quickly that I couldn't touch anything. I ran out of my house screaming. But no one came. No one heard me.

Until…

"Good thing you're dead or else you'd make yourself sick if you were still alive right now, screaming your head off that way."

I turned around. There was an older woman standing before me. Someone I'd never seen before. But she could see me, and she knew I was dead. Now, I really was confused.

Being a witch and having gone to a wizarding school, I'd seen a lot of things. More than most of the muggles around me who lived on this street.

But this was beyond everything I had ever learned. This was truly insane.

"Who are you?" I asked her.

"My name's Lex. Why don't we go back into your house?" She suggested and I nodded. Then she led the way, back up my porch and through the front door. We went back into my room.

She glanced around. Eying my unmade bed, my desk piled high with CD cases and other things, the giant collages on my walls of the many pictures I took, my dirty floor, my wooden dresser, and lastly my closet.

"I hope you weren't planning on leaving everything behind," she commented before looking back at me. "Because I'm afraid you're out of luck."

"What do you mean?" I didn't understand.

She sat down on my unmade bed as I continued to stand against the doorway.

"Do you remember that man who confronted you on the street just before your death?" She asked.

I thought back, remembering the odd touch, "Yeah…"

"Well, that man was a reaper."

"A what?"

"A reaper. You know, like the Grim Reaper. He collected the souls of the living when they were about to die."

I couldn't take it all in. This was too unreal.

"So where is he now?" I asked.

"He's moved on."

"I don't get it," I said.

She paused, trying to figure out how to say what she needed me to understand. "Okay, well, you do understand what I said about reapers, right?"

"You said that reapers collect the souls of people when they die," I responded.

"Yes. Also note that a reaper can collect the soul before or after the death with the simple touch, but either way the soul must be reaped. If it isn't, then the soul will never be able to leave the body and that is never good. It's also a better idea to reap the soul before the person's death. If you don't then the soul will show the wounds from which he or she had received at death. And some deaths are messy, so we prefer it to be done before the death so the soul will look as his body did beforehand."

"Okay, but you didn't explain why the man who collected my soul has moved on. That can't happen often," I stated.

"You're right, Phaelin. It doesn't happen often. In fact, you're the first I've ever had to rear like this. But, you see, when a reaper collects a certain amount of souls he is permitted to move on, as the souls he's collected have. But when he reaches that number, which is truly unknown, he must be replaced for he will no longer be around to do the collecting. And so, his last collected soul becomes the next reaper." She then looked down at the floor, she seemed unsure of how to put her next sentence and it didn't take me long to figure out why. "And, as it turns out, you were his last soul."

"So, what you're saying is…"

She quickly returned her gaze to me, "What I'm saying is that you, Phaelin, are going to be a Grim Reaper."

I stood, staring at her in shock.

What?

Out of all the people it could have been that fucking guy's replacement had to be me? The suicide victim! You have got to be fucking kidding me! This cannot be happening. This is not what I wanted at all!

I looked away from her.

"Look, I know this can be really hard to face. But it's a task that has to be done. And no one can change the fact that this is what you were chosen for. I know you may have wanted your life to be over, but some of us seem to think of becoming a reaper as a new beginning," she added, trying to sound optimistic.

"Are you really going to tell me that's how you see it?" I gave her a harsh glance and she looked away; she was obviously unable to give a positive response. "I didn't think so."

She sighed and stood up. Grabbing a suitcase from my closet, she started picking out the clothes hanging around my dead body.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm packing you some clothes. You're going to have to wear something; you surely can't go wearing that for the rest of your dead life."

"What?"

"Look, I never said the majority of us actually like the jobs of the afterlife that we are given, but they are our duty, and if we really want to move on, we have to do as we're told. But to the living, you're just another human being. And all human beings need food, clothes, and other necessities. You can't go walking around naked as if nobody sees you."

"But nobody does see me!" I protested.

"Nobody did see you, when you were just a soul out of your dead body. But your assignment has taken place. You are now a reaper, and you will look just like another human being to everybody else. Except you won't look like you used to. Not yet anyways. Because of your contemporaries, you won't look like you used to for the next sixty or so years."

"So what do I look like then?" I asked, curiously.

I went over to the mirror at my dresser.

I saw myself as I always was.

"I don't know. To reapers, you look as you did before you died. You will never age either, although the person mortals see you as will. It's only to the living that you will appear as another person. And the only way to see that person is to take a picture or get yourself on camera." She explained.

"Well, that's dumb."

"It doesn't matter, Phaelin. Deep down, you're still you. Just dead."

"Thanks." I replied, turning to look at her derisively.

"Whatever, come over here and help me pack what you want. We can't take everything. But you need enough until you can get yourself some new clothes hopefully sometime soon."

I went over to the closet. Picking out what I wanted and what I didn't. I figured it would be dumb to take my clothes. Wouldn't that maybe refer to me not committing suicide? Runaways took their clothes, not suicide victims, and no one would hang me for my clothes. Although, I doubt my dad or his stupid girlfriend would even notice anything was missing. They never went into my room anyway as they have never actually cared about me.

*

After some time, we had managed to pack all that I wanted to keep and Lex let me crash at her place. She lived alone, and considering I had no money and no other place to go, the crashing became long-termed.

I wasn't a very good houseguest, and I never showed Lex much of any appreciation. We had many angry fights (most of which were started by me), but still, she never kicked me out.

She just didn't understand how much I had wanted my life to be over. And I still had nothing to live for. I still wished to end my life.

But no matter what I did, I still woke up every morning and received my assignment.

*

But that was all two months ago.

Now there was a new assignment. A big one, too.

Seriously. It's supposed to be huge.

Lex says the two of us are both being transferred to England.

England!

Well, we're actually being transferred to somewhere in Scotland… but first we have to get on a train in London in order to reach that destination.

But that's not the point. The point is that big transfers like these rarely ever happen. You only get transferred if you do something that's considered really bad, like tell people you're a Grim Reaper.

But this is huge. She said some sort of war is coming up in England's Wizarding world and reapers need to be put in their places.

So, here I am. Two months dead and waiting for this stupid plane to land. Then I'm supposed to meet another reaper at the airport who I will go with to a particular destination where the whole new group will meet up before being placed into a school; Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, to be specific.

It's weird though.

I haven't done any magic since my death.

Except for that time I tried to Avada Kedavra my dead self…

Turns out, I really am stuck like this.

But other than that, I haven't even touched my wand. I just became so used to doing things the muggle way. I mean, I am muggle-born so it's nothing new to me, and I'm living in the same muggle city I've lived in all my life.

And now I have to go through my last year of schooling all over again, in a completely different country.

I'm kind of glad Lex will be there with me though. That's at least one familiar face I can count on. But for now, I'm on my own as Lex had to meet with the other foreman of our new group, and I have to meet this other kid all by myself.

One thing I liked about living with Lex was that since she was in charge of our group, I learned more than most. But I was still in the dark on a lot as well.

Like, I don't even know who I'm supposed to meet when I get off this plane. Lex told me we were all around seventeen or eighteen at our deaths, except for the foremen, but I don't even know if this reaper I'm supposed to meet up with is a male or a female, let alone a fucking name!

It's fucking ridiculous if you ask me.

You'd think being dead would come with some perks, but it doesn't.