Death's Manager

Courtesy of SilverWolf7007

Chapter Three – I Get The Feeling Something Strange Is Going On Around Here…

Or, Fun In Death's Office

As the son of Death's Manager and then as Death's Manager, Tom had experienced some extremely odd situations, so he should probably have been used to such things happening.

Despite this, he was still completely and utterly stunned at the sudden appearance of a saturated pyjama-clad teenager in his office.

Harry, on the other hand, seemed to take it in his stride. "Er, hello," he began. "What the hell just happened?"

Tom had to blink a few times to make certain that he was not imagining things before he could reply. "Uh, I haven't a single iota of what might possibly be an idea."

Sighing, Harry dropped onto the floor and began trying to wring the milk out of his pyjama legs. "I should have guessed that. Anyway, who are you, and where am I? I assume you do know that?"

"Yes, I do. My name is Tom, and I'm Death's Manager. You're in my office."

Harry slowly let go of his pyjamas and looked up at Tom, a somewhat suspicious expression on his face. "You're Death's what?"

"Manager," Tom replied helpfully. "I do most of the paperwork around here…Death just does the field work."

"Geez, that must be boring," Harry said frankly. He stood quickly. "Well, I hate to suddenly appear in a cloud of black fog and run, but I really need to get back to my school before people start killing one another – we're having a slight crisis, you see." He gestured to the state of his attire. "I don't normally wander around in milk-soaked clothing, you know."

Tom couldn't help but laugh. "I wouldn't have thought so. I'm guessing you'd like a hand in returning from whence you came?"

Harry grinned. "That'd be great, if you could."

"All right then. What school do you attend, and where is it?"

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and its…somewhere in Scotland, I believe."

"Ah."

"Let me guess," Harry said with a wry smile. "Because of some magical interference, or the Apparition wards, or something, you can't actually help me out."

Tom shrugged and gave him a sympathetic grin. "That's about the size of it, I'm afraid. You're pretty much stuck here until…well, until we work out a way for you to get back without my help."

"Figures."

"Hey, it wont be all that bad," Tom told him optimistically.

"No?"

"'Course not! You can help me do a couple of things. Firstly, this place really needs livening up."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Tom…you work for Death. What did you expect?"

Rolling his eyes, Tom stood up. "You'll see. If nothing else, I need to play a few pranks…especially on my Fairy Godfather."

"Fairy Godfather?"

"Oh yes. Long story. Maybe I'll tell you it one day."

"Okay, I think I can manage that. If nothing else, because my own Godfather was quite the prankster, along with my dad."

"Was?"

"Uh, yeah. He died almost a year ago."

"Oh yeah…I remember that. And that reminds me of the other thing I need your help with."

"And what's that?"

"Well," Tom began. "I keep folders on people. The filing cabinet on the left is for the currently living, and the one on the right is for those who have passed on. The one in the middle is for cases such as ghosts, vampires…you get the picture. My dad, who was Death's Manager before me, was…" Tom trailed off.

"Was what?"

"Pretty damn hopeless at his job, actually. I've only just finished straightening out all of his messes, where he's screwed up the filing. However, there is one folder, one case, one person, who still confounds me."

Showing that he was not as stupid as Severus Snape and Voldemort would like to believe, Harry nodded. "That'd be me, right?"

Tom looked surprised as he sat back in his seat. "Yeah. Damn, you're good, kid."

"Why thank you," Harry replied with a smirk. "But I don't see how I can help you work out what's going on with my life…especially as, from what I've guessed, you want to know why it hasn't ended."

"Well, even if we do work out…whatever it is that's keeping you alive, there's no reason why it can't keep on doing so."

Harry shrugged. "All right then, I'll see what I can do. But I'd prefer to do the pranking part first."

Tom grinned. "Funnily enough, so would I. But we can't get on with that until tomorrow…the office will be empty of everyone but myself, and now you, for the rest of the day."

"Hm. So, what shall we do?"

"We-ell…" Tom began in a mischievous tone. "I do have the power to bring anyone in the history of any of these filing cabinets here temporarily."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Even the dead?"

"Of course. This place, building, whatever, exists outside the boundaries of time and space. Technically, nothing here is dead, and nothing here is alive. We also have the option of visiting any place in the past, should we wish to."

"I'm suddenly having the urge to take a while finding a way home," Harry said, a somewhat evil grin spreading across his face.

"Harry," Tom began in a warning tone. "You can't do or say anything, or be anywhere, that would change the course of history. I know there are people you'd like to, well, dispose of early, but – "

"Geez, no one ever has any faith in me," Harry interrupted. "I wasn't even planning on that. I mean, you're not wrong, there are many, many things I'd like to change, but I know perfectly well that I can't."

Tom looked confused. "Then what were you thinking about when you got that evil grin and professed your wish to stay?"

The evil grin reappeared. "Several reasons. One, being a simple interest in history…two, being a wish to meet my parents, and see my godfather again, and maybe speak to Cedric…and three…" The grin transformed into a smirk. "Well, I know a couple of vampires I'd like to see again, and I daresay they'd have a few ideas on how to liven this place up."

"Really?" Tom said hopefully.

"Sure. Although," Harry amended with a frown. "Sylvan might have the urge to redecorate."

Tom looked at him. "What makes you think that?"

"Well, he recently professed the wish to repaint the White House…as it's so boring. And he redecorated his own home, inside and out, in various shades of pink and orange." Harry winced. "James, I believe, nearly killed him – again."

Instead of looking worried, as Harry had expected, Tom just grinned. "Well, I think we should invite him around as soon as possible. Kyra and Death will simply hate whatever he does to the place…I do have one condition, though."

"And what would that be?"

"No matter who or what we bring here, there is a total ban on rubber baseball bats."

Harry, who had resumed wringing out his pyjamas, looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Rubber baseball bats? Why on earth would you ban those?"

Tom looked somewhat embarrassed. "You see, one of the perks of being Death's Manager is that I'm impervious to pretty much any way of killing humans. The downside…well, the only thing that can kill the Manager of Death, and therefore me, is a rubber baseball bat."

The fun just keeps on increasing…

ISC – Oh good. Thanks heaps, and (shudders) ew, I didn't even think of the milk going bad…

Sabine Strohem-Moss – Thanks, glad you like it!

Shakespeares Whore – Ta, and don't worry, you're not the only one in doubt about my sanity. Hope you liked the chapter.

maleficus-lupus – Strange even for me, huh? I quite agree. And yes, Terry Pratchett is one of my favourite authors – I make a point to read at least part of one of his books a week. That's where I kind of got the idea of putting Death into something from, and it…stemmed from there.

LoonyLoopyLisa – Oh, I'm sure they'll find stuff out at some point…maybe.

Sapphire Dragons – Okay, update it is.

Kaaera – Oh geez, I didn't think of that! Okay, I'm going to go whole milk. Don't ask me why, just cos. (Gasps) You don't really like chocolate? Ah well, I have a friend who feels the same, so I'm quite over the betrayed feeling…hee hee. Well, the whole thing is very random, but no, Tom is all mine. They're all mine! Ahem, well, not Harry and his lot, but…And I agree, you should definitely read the Discworld books. And also Good Omens, which Pratchett wrote with Neil Gaiman. It's brilliant.

NephyRiddle – Why thank you, disturbing, fun! Milk's evil just because I can't stand the taste of it (I think it might be left over from not being able to have it as a baby). And ew, off milk. Poor thing.

Bobboky – Meh, I'm not milk's biggest fan.

ReginaLucifer – (snicker) I thought the think with Neville might have come off a bit silly, but as that's the purpose of the fic…

DeppDRACOmaniac – Nope, never seen Anchorman. And poor Voldie…although that would be an effective way of getting rid of him. Oooh, a way to get rid of the Twinkle…didn't think of that…yes, it might just work. Poor Dumbles…(snort)

mlovektowsing – I'm good at strange. Glad you're going to stick with it!

Semma – Yes, very weird taste. Nice to find someone who agrees with me. Glad you like my randomness. 'Tis my forte…along with evil, as I've been told.

Thought I'd mention that Tom, Death, Kyra, Luke, the Fairy Godfather, the Tooth Fairy and the events referred to (such as the rubber baseball bat) are all very, very mine. I wrote a play for English last year. That's what it was about. The script is on my FictionPress account (under Herring Stole My Pen), and if anyone's interested in reading it, go ahead.

In the next chapter, we find out what the morning was like in the Slytherin Common Rooms.

Please review!

S. Wolf