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Chapter six

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Harry didn't need to be the Master of Death to know Yagi was dying. The poor man looked like a pencil without its graphite. A big chunk of energy had been chomped from the man and Harry didn't like that one itty bitty Merlin-y bit.

So he benumbed the lemon tea with some good old-fashioned magic drugs.

"Could I please help myself to another?" Yagi politely asked one evening after returning from his job. The man was a school teacher. Marvellous career choice. Safe! Perhaps if he could introduce the man to James, his son might return to the comfort of Hogwarts. Rekindle that flame of guiding young souls onto the right path.

"Please do," Harry poured the lemon spiked tea himself. Watching with great satisfaction as the man sipped it. "How's the apartment treating you, Yagi?"

"Greatly. The silence is amazing for being so close to the city."

"Special brickwork," Harry fibbed.

"Some brickwork." Yagi admired.

"Hmmm."

"I didn't know you also lived here, Aizawa!" Yagi turned to the sombre man at the table who had yet to speak a word other than 'ugh'. "Funny little world we live in."

"Funny is certainly one way of putting it," Shota muttered. To him it was more of a case of rotten bad luck. Spotting he was the only one without tea, he went to pour himself a cup only to get smacked against the knuckles.

"I've made you your own pot," Harry chided, smile telling him he had no say in this whatsoever to put up and shut up, and poured from a seperate tea pot. Yagi's pot sprouted gargantuous ceramic flowers. Daffodils, hydrangeas and sunflowers. It was something he'd see the flaming gay penguin that is Elton John utilising it for pride month.

Shota's teapot, it seemed - no, it certainly was - is a fatty crouching Sumo wrestler. One could only have found at a second hand shop because nobody fucking wanted it in the first place.

Tea sloshed from the ass and into Shota's cup.

"Ohh. You shouldn't have," Shota told Harry. Dry as a tissue. Apparently he was not only a second class citizen among teapots, he was also a paraplegic seeing as Harry dolloped two sugar cubes into his cup and stirred it. What next. Will his Landlord go 'aaaah' and feed him a bikkie?! Suddenly fearful he just might, Shota fed himself the Sumo bum tea.

"I believe we are all attending the same fundraiser tonight!" Harry clapped.

"We're what," Shota demanded Yagi in a choke. Chills hitting his spine. Did the brainless punk tell Harry, state's favoured Special Interest, that he was All Might?

"Yagi and I will be attending together," Harry had cradled his head and fluttered his lashes to the blonde idiot - who smiled endearingly back. "His grandfather hooked us up. Fortune made it so neither of us had a date."

"..Date?" Shota again demanded Yagi. "There is a date?"

Yagi spluttered, "Platonic, Aizawa! We're friends."

"Gosh, Shota. You know he's too young for me," Harry divulged behind a hand. Shota didn't know this. How could he possibly have known that?

"What's too old?" Yagi asked. Genuinely curious.

"Pick a number between eight and twenty then times it by a hundred then multiply, Harry picked a biscuit from the bowl in the table. Grin cheshire.

Doggedly Yagi hedged, "…and divide, right?….right?"

. -

The last ball Harry attended happened to have been the gathering of monsters and gods from across timelines and realities. Harry had hosted it. Inspired to meet all the other oogly-booglys he had yet come across.

The entire affair went rather…tragically, as it so happens. Leaving Harry to be the only surviver. Harry and the God of rebirth - yet they too had perished. Don't ask him about it.

"It was all rather traumatic, honestly," Harry said laughingly in reply to the mayor of the city when asked about previous balls he had attended."In the end I had to depart all my new friends. Don't know who was more shocked, me or them."

"I'm…" the mayor placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "terribly sorry to hear that."

"Thank you," Harry gripped the hand, "Everyone else who I've told this story to just don't seem to understand."

The mayor, truly and unequivocally, understood his own shit better than whatever this foreigner had crapped.

"I see," the mayor said and swiftly excused himself to others - not before extracting his limb from what felt like an emotional slab of glue. "I've got a man to see about a dog."

"I understand," Harry snatched a glass of wine from a wandering waiter's tray and decided to wander himself. Women, men and top heroes engulfed the top floor of All Might tower in formal wear. Superhero uniforms discarded for a more classic appeal. Harry had made great acquaintance with the whole lot. He handed out pamphlets of his cafe, and didn't wait to add names and numbers to his growing contacts list.

Off to the side near a wall of glass windows oversaw the reconstruction of the destroyed city below, a small orchestra of strings switched to a slower song. The bed of guests gently drifted to the side, leaving a wide gap beneath a glass chandelier.

"Rubbed enough shoulders yet?"

Harry twirled from watching people partnering up to dance to see Shota. The man's hair had been pinned back from his face. Body shoved into a fitted tuxedo and makeup applied against dark circles. On his hip was a walkie-talkie that connected to a fitted earpiece.

"I've lost Yagi," Harry told him.

"Don't be too surprised," Shota said, "He isn't much of a crowds person. Give it an hour and he'll appear again."

"Mmm. He did strike me as the agoraphobic sort," Harry pulled out his phone. "Ah well. At least we got a picture together. Speaking of, smile Shota!"

Already having sense the doom before it were to happen, like sensing a violent thunderstorm or tornado, Shota grumbled resignation at the camera. Arm looped across his shoulders, peace sign held against a creased eye-smile, Harry chirped 'Cheese!' And flashed a selfie.

Commotion stirred near the entrance. Gentle in its departure, the orchestra came to a halt. Musicians turning to one another. Big eager smiles on their faces, not unlike the rest of the room.

"Is that All Might?" Harry prodded Shota. Interest on this world's most powerful hero bubbled to the top as the giant man strolled inside. Heroes and government officials licked his heels as he did. "My goodness he is big, isn't -" Harry blinked. Having noticed the torn soul inside the man. Resembling a bitten chunky cookie.

"Harry?" Shota nudged the man.

"My my," Harry muttered into his wine glass and began to take pity on the man's exhaustedly worked soul. Yagi was a gentle giant and reminded Harry so much of his past self that he was faintly embarrassed. "I'm going to need to make a heck of a lot more tea, Shota. Goodness gracious." Before his friend could even remotely question the sudden topic of tea and ask, by the way - where on earth did did you get that Sumo teapot and for what purposes? - Harry's phone sang. "Patrick?" He balked at the caller ID of his reaper minion he'd supplied with the human device. "What's this about Patrick? I'll have you know I'm at a super exciting event with an incredibly sexy date, so this had better be as equally as impressive. If not downright apocalyptic. Otherwise I'll play your bones like a xylophone."

This got him a unique look from Shota. Shock of hearing Yagi conferred with 'sexy' replaced with shock of such a creative but serious-sounding threat.

Placing a hand over his phone, Harry fibbed to his friend, "New waiter at my cafe," then, not having heard anything from his reaper and worried he had scared the poor reaper senseles he giggled, "Patrick? I promise I won't play you like a xylophone, do tell the issue."

'Erm, the issue,' Patrick coughed uselessly, for reapers don't breathe air, let alone have the capability to cough on it. 'Well," the reaper's voice trembled with unexpected emotion. "You see Lord, there's this lost soul that really shouldn't have been able to keep their quirk but fuck rules of the universe 'cause she has. She seriously has - and she's gone and eviscerated a whole troupe of colleges of mine and we're honestly at a total loss on how to proceed without, well sir, eviscerating. Don't know what to do. hah. So. Help? Please?"

Harry made a polite excusing gesture and strolled from the ballroom into a dull hallway lined with scarily imposing guards. Located the men's toilet and hissed into the phone;

"What do you mean she's eviscerated the un-evisceratable? What are you, morons? You're dead you can't go and die!"

'I don't think the ghost knows that, sir. Could you please let her know that intrinsic life detail as you take her out?'

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, "There will be no 'taking out', Patrick."

Patrick made a keening sound.

"Where are you?" He sighed, having realised that his beautiful evening at a ball will need to be dropped. He couldn't have reapers dying on him. It was damned embarrassing. James would laugh at him.

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Patrick hid amongst the rubble that had been the birthing place of the treacherous nomu. Harry's pathetic looking reaper was crouched against a blasted off wall.

"Why," Harry stared at the creature feared by all living organisms, that now resembled a mouse hiding from a hungry house cat. "are you hiding?"

"Shhh!" Patrick flailed arms about. "She'll hear us."

"Oh deary me, Patrick. It's not as though I'm actively seeking her out." Harry's dry tone rose into a shout. "Get out from there." He told Patrick.

'No way, my Lord. I'm staying pu - aaak!'

A cool breeze tickled his heels and Harry turned to stare down the little ghost that had caused such a disturbance to his evening.

It was a small white haired girl. One tiny baby horn poked out from her forehead. Contrasting terribly with her innocent doll-like features.

"Hello," Harry considered the soul that he sensed to have been cut short. The static crackle of energy circulating her ghoulish nervous system. Utterly out of control. No wonder his reapers 'died', she had turned them back to dust. "You're something else aren't you, sweetie?"

And Harry formed a perfect plan.

"Hey," he crouched to the kid's height, caught her hand that lashed out to absorb him. Patrick squealed. The child, Eri he instantly knew. Stared at him in absolute confusion as to how he wasn't existing anymore. Cute kid. What would it say about him if the Master of Death were to keel over from a gentle gust of wind? Reapers were made, Death simply is and always. A fact of the universe. "How would you like to control this power of yours? I know a splendid school."

Shuttered in sudden child-like hope, Eri's arm went slack. Stumped into silence.

"Patrick, you cunning devil," Harry picked the child up in his arms, turned to his reaper and gave a thousand-watt smile. "Now James will have no choice but to talk to me!"

Having fazed himself into the wall, two trembling thumbs popped out in fearful, steadfast support.

. -

Without a moment's hesitation, Harry ported himself through universes and ended up in his son's kitchen. Eri squealed. Wonder and awe dashed away any fear she once had as she was plopped down into the magical room. James sat at the table, newspaper in hand. Around, kitchen appliances danced in the air preparing breakfast.

His son folded the top of his paper to meet Harry's mad grin. Unwavering disinterest dropped at the small ghost.

"Hi ho!" Harry finger waved.

"Absolutely not."

"You haven't even listened to what I got to say," Harry pulled out a chair and sat opposite his son after depositing Eri. Nothing looked to have changed with the man. Layered in silky blue pyjamas, James eyed Eri pitter around under the moving pots and pans.

"I know you want me to do something about Toshio, over there. And the answer is no."

"James Sirius Potter, how could you turn down a child in need? I raised you better than that."

"Fuck off," James said, "Mum raised me. You were dead - which brings me to point B," he pointed to the oblivious kid, "That child is dead. What needing could it possibly need?"

"Help with controlling her powers," Harry shuffled his chair along the table. Grin widening by ambiguous seconds. "She eviscerated a bunch of my reapers! Nobody but Hogwarts can help her because nobody but wizards can see her! Left alone she could destroy everybody on the planet. You got to bring her to Hogwarts James - and maybe take up your headmaster role along the way, the choice is totally yours but..." Harry half shrugged in suggestion. Tact left in tears.

James blinked, looked from Eri to Harry, and curled his body as far from her his seat would allow.

"Oh Merlin. What type of Toshio did you bring me?"

"Who is this Toshio - James, the kid's name is Eri."

James restlessly picked up his teacup and twirled the tea inside of it. Finally he said, "She would need to be set apart from other students."

"We're doing this then," Harry clapped. "Brilliant. I'll get changed."

"Woah," James grabbed Harry's sleeves as he went to dash to the doorway. "You're not coming. Are you cra - no you are but i digress. People will recognise you -"

"Pppsh," Harry scoffed. "Not even Draco's spawn could recognise me. I'll be perfectly alright, just don't say my name. Ah ah!" Harry squished James' lips with a finger, "We shan't be arguing on this. I'm going."

To Hogwarts. Goodness. Harry did miss this.

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Thoughts? Feelings?