A Most Unusual Encounter
written by Shaun Garin
JK Rowling owns Harry Potter. Rare owns Greg.
It was dark, Harry would give it that.
There were large stone pillars encircling the area with dim burning torches around the area. On one side lay a small box of Sirius-Grim Plushies which made no sense to him.
But then again, when you had just died, it wasn't much of a surprise anyhow.
There was a clacking sound and Harry whirled, aiming his wand at the opposing figure. It stepped into view and pushed back it's hood. "'Ello there," it said in a British accent. "I'm Greg. I'm, the Grim Reaper."
Harry blinked several times. "Aren't you a little short to be the Grim Reaper?"
Greg looked affronted. "Well how many Grim Reapers have YOU seen mate?"
Harry had to give it that as Greg opened up a book. "Right then. First name?"
"Harry."
"Surname?"
"Potter."
"Harry Pott...." the skeleton stared for a moment and grumbled. "Oh bloody hell. You had to be Harry sodding Potter didn't you?"
Harry looked confused. "What's this all about?"
Greg sighed. "According to the Powers That Be, and I'm not making this up, Harry Potter is allowed as many Chances until he is done in or does in Voldemort."
Harry blinked. Twice.
Greg pointed at the box of Plushies. "See those Sirius-Grim Plushies? Each one of those is another Chance. Collect more of those Grim Plushies, and you'll have more Chances. Now hop to it. I've gotta deal with those squirrels. At least you're not a cat. Bloody cats."
The Grim Reaper lumbered off into the darkness and Harry shrugged. Walking over, he grasped the Grim Plushies in his arms and suddenly vanished.
"Harry, mate, you're alive!" exclaimed Ron in surprise.
"Yeah. Hey Ron, do you think your brothers carry these?" Harry asked as the squeaky toy Grim made a sound.