"DAD! Dad! Harry's got something!"

Harry, who had been on the verge of opening his letter, didn't have time to react as the strange paper was torn from his grasp by his Uncle Vernon. Reaching after it before he could stop himself, Harry flinched back as Vernon raised his fist threatening, causing him to quickly step away from his Uncle.

"That's mine," he said simply, trying to get his voice low so he wasn't punished for shouting in the house again.

"Oh yeah? Who would be writing to you?" Uncle Vernon snickered, opening the letter and peering down at it, his face suddenly turning a range of colours that Harry was certain weren't natural. "Pe-petunia!" Uncle Vernon stuttered out, holding the letter out to the horse-faced woman with a shaking hand.

"Oh my goodness," Aunt Petunia exhaled, making a pained croaking noise as she grabbed at her throat in fear, despite having only read a single line.

Already mourning the loss of the letter he knew he was never going to get to read, Harry promised himself that he would slip the next letter he received straight under his cupboard door. That is… if he ever got another letter, that one had been his first letter in ten years. And after all, who would be writing to him?

Dudley reached for the letter suddenly, and Uncle Vernon just held it up out of the fat boy's reach. "I want to read it!" the boy demanded, lashing out with his Smelting stick to twack Uncle Vernon across the face with it, "Now!"

Then, for the first time in Harry's whole life, he saw Dudley get punished. As the boy clutched as his bright red cheek in shock, Uncle Vernon yanked the Smelting stick from his hand and glared down at Dudley before pointing his finger towards the door. "Get out! Both of you get out!" Uncle Vernon ordered, Aunt Petunia collapsing backwards to lean against the bench breathlessly.

"I WANT TO SEE IT!" Dudley yelled, apparently not learning his lesson.

"OUT!" Uncle Vernon roared, launching himself to his feet and reaching for them both, only for the cheerful DING DONG of the doorbell to make them all freeze in place. As Dudley tried again to grab the letter, Uncle Vernon slapped him once more, a large dark handprint appearing on the pig-like boy's face. "Get the door 'Tunia," Uncle Vernon instructed as he turned away from them and snatched up the letter again, "Tell them we're not interested".

As Uncle Vernon began tearing up the letter, Harry started edging towards the doorway, hoping to make it back to his cupboard before his Uncle could look up and take his anger out on him again. Glancing over his shoulder and down the hallway, Harry faltered as the rough-looking brown-haired man at the door sent him a warm smile, Aunt Petunia stepping between the two of them almost instantly with a glare in Harry's direction. Looking between the two of them, Harry wondered where he was supposed to go now, Uncle Vernon's 'suggestions' that he never entered his cupboard when people were watching echoing through his mind. And since he knew he was already in trouble for receiving a letter, the last thing Harry wanted was to get in even more trouble for breaking another rule so soon after.

Aunt Petunia's startled gasp pulled Harry's attention back her way, watching as she stumbled back from the door as the man put something back in the inner pocket of his black trench-coat. "Yo-you can't do that! It's illegal!" the woman shrieked fearfully.

"So we see eye to eye then?" the man agreed simply, staring emotionlessly at her and gesturing past her. "Can I come in now?"

"Fine!" Aunt Petunia spat as she stepped aside and let the man in, watching him warily as he entered the house and looked around. As Harry wondered who this man was, his Aunt swept down the hallway and latched onto his shoulder, dragging him back into the kitchen as the man followed them silently.

"Pet! I was thi- Who the ruddy hell are you?" Uncle Vernon blurted , the walrus man eyeing the man suspiciously.

"I am a man of many names, Vernon Richard Dursley," the man said simply, pulling out a chair at the table and sitting down without asking permission. "But you may call me 'Death'".

"Dea- Get out of my house!" Uncle Vernon ordered, "You Freaks aren't welcome here!"

"I am no 'Freak', Vernon," 'Death' corrected simply, "I am an Angel of Death. Now please, take a seat".

"Please listen to him Vernon," Aunt Petunia began quickly, "He-"

"I SAID GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Uncle Vernon roared angrily, interrupting Aunt Petunia who whimpered in response.

Death's lip twitched in amusement, as he reached into his inner pocket and pulled something out, throwing what looked like a photograph onto the table. Being just the right height, Harry caught sight of something white on the photo before Uncle Vernon snatched it up, his eyes widened and his face turning a furious dark red. "I think I should stay, if only to talk about this photograph a little more," Death pointed out simply, "Don't you agree?"

"Wha- What do you want?" Uncle Vernon asked coldly, "You have no right to come into our home and threaten us!"

"And you have no right to abuse a child," Death countered bluntly, "Who do you think the police will arrest? The Angel of Death for trespassing? Or you for child abuse?"

Harry felt himself paling instantly. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia both had beat the consequences of telling someone how he was treated into his head. He knew from personal experience, that the charges would be dropped with a snap of their fingers, and that only he would get punished for it.

"The Freak deserves it!" Uncle Vernon roared, "And I will NOT have you telling me how I can and cannot treat his kind!"

"I am Death, Vernon, I will do what I please," Death growled out, the look in his eyes scaring Harry ten times more than an angry Uncle Vernon. "And since Harry is half-Angel, it means that your punishment is delegated to me, instead of your Mortal Police," he continued, "Now sit".

When Uncle Vernon heaved himself to his feet, Death just sighed and raised his hands, pointing his palms down and pushing towards the floor. A startled squawk escaped both Uncle Vernon's and Aunt Petunia's throats as they suddenly collapsed down onto the chairs that had somehow appeared behind them, a simple flick of Death's hands had their chairs dragging forward until they were seated opposite him.

"Harry. Please go pack everything you want to keep," Death requested, not looking away from the Dursleys, "You won't be returning here".

Harry didn't move, his legs frozen in place as he watched Death snapping his fingers, black ropes appearing in a 'puff' of black smoke and snaking themselves around his Aunt and Uncle tightly. "Harry," Death pressed, "Do you have anything you wish to take with you?"

"HE'S NOT GOIN-ERP!"

Uncle Vernon's shouting was cut off by Death snapping his fingers again, a black gag appearing in his Uncle's mouth, reducing his ranting to a muffled droning instead. Harry froze fearfully as Death turned dark blue eyes on him, remembering the question and quickly racking his mind for a moment before shaking his head. "Just my clothes, Sir," he answered nervously.

"You'll be receiving new clothes when we get to your new school," Death dismissed, "Do you have anything you want to keep for… sentimental… reasons?"

His school? What school? Harry was going to Stonewall High wasn't he? His Aunt was already dying his uniform, in fact his uniform was still being dyed in the back garden where the smell couldn't destroy their appetites (Not that Uncle Vernon or Dudley's appetites could be stopped by anything). And did he even want to go? What if the school was worse than the Dursleys were? (As impossible as that seemed). What if he didn't want to go? What if he wanted to go to Stonewall High? (He didn't. But he'd rather go to Stonewall High than to somewhere worse).

"No, Sir," Harry mumbled softly, shaking his head quickly. He opened his mouth to ask a question, snapping it closed as he remembered rule number one, 'Don't ask questions'.

"Ask, Harry," Death instructed, "I will do my best to answer".

"My new school?" Harry blurted before he could stop himself, "And what do you mean I'm 'Half-Angel'? Are you really Death?"

Death's lips twitched up into a fond smile as Harry's hands clapped over his mouth guiltily. "I am merely an Angel of Death, a servant, Death itself is not a tangible being like ourselves," the 'man' explained gently. "And when you died, you were destined to become an Angel like myself, however due to uncontrollable events you have already begun the Ascension while remaining alive".

"Why?" Harry asked, flinching back as he realised he had just asked another question.

Death just chuckled, not looking at all angry at him for asking questions. "You died," he admitted bluntly, making Harry flinch again at his matter-of-fact tone of voice. "And since you were dead, your soul automatically began its Ascension. However both your mother's magic and your own worked to resuscitate you, to bring your soul back into your body before it could move on. This changed your destiny, and meant you would not die and Ascend for many more years to come. However your soul had already begun the Ascension, and it could not be undone. So Destiny decreed that you would be a hybrid of your living Wiccan and your undead Death until such a time that you were to die naturally".

Harry stood there staring at Death, trying to wrap his mind around what the 'man' was saying. He wanted to instinctively accuse the man of lying, the Dursley's constant claims of 'Magic isn't real' echoing around his mind, but the things Death had done to the Dursleys proved they were wrong. Another part of him wanted to deny the fact that he was dead, since he was quite obvious alive right now, but then again the man had said his soul had returned to his body hadn't he? Then there was the 'hybrid' part, Harry couldn't be dead and alive at the same time could he? It was impossible wasn't it?

"I can't be a..." Harry denied slowly, thinking rapidly as Death watched him patiently, unsure of what word to use to describe himself. "I don't have any powers," he explained quickly, "And I'm not dead," he added absently.

"Did you not, only a couple of months ago, teleport a piece of glass in and out of place?" Death asked kindly. "As well as speak to the snake behind said piece of glass? What about when you wisped onto the roof of your school when you were seven?" he added slowly.

Harry paused again, his mind racing as he tried to understand what this information meant for him. "This school I'm sending you to," Death began, cutting his thoughts off and pulling Harry's attention back to him, "It is a school for Good magic. A school for Wiccans, for Oracles, and for hybrids such as yourself". Death paused and turned to face Harry properly, "If you agree to attend Magic School, then you will be able to attend as a year-long boarder," he explained softly, "You will never have to return to the Dursleys again".

Harry froze at that, all thoughts of saying no vanishing from his mind. No Dursleys? It was tempting to say yes even if the school was worse than Stonewall, just so he didn't have to come back here ever again. "Will… will I have friends there?" he found himself asking, the look of pity on Death's face making a flash of anger roll through his chest.

"I promise you will," Death began slowly, "And even if you don't, know you have family in myself and the other Angels".

Harry started at Death for a moment longer, his eyes drifting over to his relatives. Aunt Petunia was glaring at him darkly, while Uncle Vernon looked like he was trying to kill him with his eyes. He didn't really have a choice did he? If he said no, then his Uncle would see the promise in his eyes through, whether it was Harry's fault or not. But if he said yes then he'd never have to see his Uncle again, and even if he did then he'd have magic to protect himself with.

Slowly Harry turned back to face Death, "Yes," he decided suddenly, "I'll go".

Death's face broke out into a happy smile, and he held his hand out for Harry to take gingerly. As Harry's hand touched Death's slightly colder skin, the 'man' twisted his hand to hold Harry's properly, "Hold on Harry, we're going for a ride," Death warned before everything exploded into blackness.

Paragon

Based off DZ2's The Other School challenge.

It took me a while to decide on what I wanted Harry to be, but in the end I decided on an half Angel of Death due to the whole 'Master of Death' and Harry's being descended from the Peverells angle.

I don't own Harry Potter or Charmed.