Annoying Death is always fun
*Death is if anything, our last big adventure*
It's hard to tell if Death simply wanted to be rid of him, to have some peace and quiet to continue his mundane life, or if he really had Harry’s best interests at heart.
Harry had guessed at some point that it may be a mix of both. He knew that he was a distraction, he knew Death quite often got annoyed with him when he was pulled away from his work but Death also never truly objected.
When Harry had first arrived by his side he was ‘well behaved.’ Sitting in silence reading, or curiously wandering around the office looking at the knick knacks littering the shelves in the office. Harry had been shocked to see a boatload of cat figurines, because honestly, who would have thought Death had a love for little feline companions.
He had also spent a lot of time staring at Death himself. Harry had been astonished by the fact that the being was not in fact a giant walking skeleton, but in fact a very handsome man who looked to be in his thirties. He did have an overwhelming inhumane presence; pale skin that would have Snow White green with envy, pitch black eyes that seemed to bare your soul, and sharp rows of impossibly pointy teeth. It wasn’t all bad, he also had high cheekbones and a well sculpted jaw, sleek black hair permanently coiffed and a tall muscular frame that could put models to shame. It made you wonder if he was made this way or if he was once mortal and made to be Death after passing in the mortal realm. It was honestly very hard for Harry to come to terms with, for being presented with such an unnatural beauty had him questioning himself. He would not allow himself to be attracted to Death of all beings, but found it difficult to resist.
Harry had also been surprised by the creature's attire; he didn’t wear a long black cloak, but instead wore a very nice black three piece suit. Instead of the infamous scythe; he carried a notebook with all the names of the deceased that needed collecting which he meticulously crossed out one by one with a sleek black quill.
After some months, the shock wore off and Harry grew confident, and he asked the being questions of the afterlife, and even some personal ones too.
“Death, what’s your favourite colour?” Harry had asked once.
Death glanced up at him furrowing his brows. The annoyance radiating off of him was palpable.
“Why would you ever want to know that?” He replied with a grunt.
“Dunno felt like asking.”
Shaking his head he answered with a short ‘black’ and went back to his paperwork. Harry quickly learnt that he did not like being asked personal questions but that didn’t stop him from trying.
“Death, if you were a snake, which one would you want to be?” Harry fought a smirk as the beings shoulders tensed and a deep sigh erupted from his lips.
“Harry, are you serious right now?”
“No, I'm Harry.” His smirk grew against his will.
“Ugh, again with that tasteless joke.” Death replied.
“Come on just humour me, all I can do is read and annoy you.”
“We both know that’s simply not true, but alas I will humour you if you promise to shut up for the foreseeable future.”
“Deal.”
“I would choose to be a southern green anaconda, one of the biggest in the world.” Death replied curtly.
“Ooooh, cool. I would be a simple garden snake because they’re adorable.” Harry gushed.
Death rolled his eyes, and replied with a simple ‘I don’t care’ before turning back to his paperwork.
Harry knew he could do whatever he wanted, he had free reign over the building, he could go anywhere but he chose not to. The fact is he spent most of his days in Death's dark yet strangely well furnished office; which Harry had certainly never been formally invited into. He realized this fact did not help his case on thinking Death had his best interest at heart, but really it wasn’t Harry’s fault it just kind of happened.
Death never really objected, only muttered passing grievances under his ‘breath’.
Harry clung to his presence like a lifeline.
Harry had quickly learned that the being did not care for pranks.
It was one eternally dreary afternoon that Harry summoned some quills perpetually spelt words incorrectly. He had also charmed the door to change the colour of the hair of anyone who passed through. He had also carefully placed some Dungbombs into the top desk drawer.
Really, he should have known better. Death wasn’t exactly a happy go lucky kind of guy, but still, Harry couldn’t resist trying at least once. Death also should have known better when he saw Harry nowhere in sight.
Harry’s not entirely sure how it went down, all he can really remember is Death’s screeching voice from down the hall. Harry had been in his room when he heard it and cautiously peeked his head from out his door. There he caught sight of a righteously furious Death. The creatures hair had turned a frightening shade of red, truly it would put the Weasley’s to shame, and the smell, oh god the smell, was absolutely horrid. Death quickly caught sight of Harry,
“HARRY JAMES POTTER, WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO! DO YOU THINK YOU WILL GET AWAY WITH THIS YOU ABSOLUTE DEMON CHILD! NOT ONLY AM I RED, NOT ONLY DO I SMELL LIKE A FUCKING SEWER, I HAVE TO REDO PAPERWORK! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MANY I COMPLETED BEFORE REALIZING EVERY SINGLE WORD WAS WRONG, I AM GOING TO END YOU MYSELF.” his voice was booming, seriously, Death was shaking from anger, his pale face going red. Harry felt his blood turn to ice as he looked in fear at the being.
“Hey Death… I’m sorry if it helps, red is a very becoming colour on you, and hey you only smell kind of putri– hey don’t come after me, seriously please–” Harry’s rambling is cut off as Death inched closer and closer, with a frighteningly murderous expression on his face.
“I’M SO SORRYYY!” he yelled after quickly breaking into a sprint away from his impending doom. Death did not let him off easily, no, he set Harry on fire. Talk about an overreaction, even if it worked and Harry never played another prank on him again.
After that fateful day, Harry spent most of his time quietly reading in his favourite chair, one located in the corner near the fireplace. Hermione would be over the moon if she knew that Harry was spending his quiet afterlife reading. Occasionally he would ask Death questions, occasionally Death would answer and not chastise him for interrupting his paperwork, however most of the time Harry received glares and sighs.
There was one line of questioning that was strictly off limits, ‘why can’t I cross to the other side, like everyone else does.’ Death always answers the same, Harry inevitably grows frustrated and an argument breaks out. It didn’t stop Harry from asking every week though.
“Death, seriously, why can’t I cross over to be with my family? Aren’t you tired of being stuck with me?” He asks, feigning the innocence in his voice.
Death sighed for so long, like a full fucking minute.
“Harry, are you really going to do this today? Do you see the pile of paperwork I have to go through? Truly I cannot stomach this today.” He answers exasperated.
“I just want to know why? You always say ‘because you’re immortal, not even I can take you.’ But like, why? You’re literally Death it doesn’t make any fucking sense!” He bit out.
Death pinched the bridge of his nose and stared at Harry with a hard expression.
Harry swallowed. He didn’t want to fight Death, not really but he wasn’t exactly thrilling company. It had only been a year at this point and Harry was starting to grow mad at being stuck with the being. Harry has never wanted immortality. When he first discovered it, it was because a rogue Death Eater threw a half hazard killing curse at him. It hit, Harry went down, and then he woke up much to the shock of everyone around him. The wizarding word erupted in speculation. Harry was not relieved, in fact he’d never felt so burdened. He tried so many times to end it but never managed to find a way. So, Harry was immortal, and in his never ending wisdom decided it was time to leave the world behind and join death at his side. He regretted it almost every single day.
Harry was already depressed, so it didn’t help that it was just so utterly boring.
Death was still staring at him, gaze so piercing Harry flinches and recoils briefly into his seat. He shakes his head and stands up. Stretching his limbs before making his way over to Death's desk and deciding Harry was going to play his favourite game of annoying Death.
He would look over Death's shoulder and comment on every single paper he worked on. He would point out the typos, or any weird creature deaths that popped up, he also liked seeing the variety of deaths that were so bizarre, commenting to the being that he couldn’t believe they were real before adding them to his list of possible ways to die. Every single time Death would grow more and more frustrated until finally kicking Harry away from him. It really wasn’t Harry’s fault that he found it amusing every time, it was Death's inevitable reaction that kept him coming back for more.
Besides, he had literally nothing else to do but annoy Death and read books. Sometimes Harry’s mind would wonder, first it would always be self pity. He was the boy who lived, turned now to the boy who would never die, stuck forever at the ripe age of 18. His first few months of being immortal were torture, he would launch himself off buildings, or drive so fast he would inevitably crash his motorcycle. He had even been able to find someone else to Avada Kedavra him, but not even the deadliest curse could free him of his immortality. It was like once he knew he couldn't stand it anymore. He grew depressed; Hermione was at a loss on what to do to help him, Ron thought he was selfish for not becoming an auror considering Harry was basically built for the frontline, but Harry was done with battles. Ron had quickly cemented the end of their friendship, and it was a day Harry wished he could permanently forget.
“Mate, you realize you could help so many people if you became an auror? Honestly I can’t believe how selfish you’re being about this.”
“Ron, for the last time, I don’t want to get into this again. I can’t fucking believe you have the gall to call me selfish, I literally died for the wizarding world. Stop acting like I’m the only thing out there that can protect the wizarding world.”
“Yeah sure mate, just because you fought the war doesn’t mean you’re done. I mean I’m becoming an auror, I’m going to be on the frontlines putting the last of the Death Eaters into Azkaban, but you? What are you going to do, kill yourself some more and continue to be depressed?” Ron sneered, actually sneered as if he was a Malfoy.
“Ronald! That’s enough, can’t you see how hard it's been for Harry?” Hermione piped in, her attempts to chastise Ron were better than nothing, but frankly she was so in love with the git that she never really stuck to them.
“He’s just so pathetic, he was always a bit weird but now, now he can’t die, now he’s really a freak.” He replied, disgust laced into every word. Harry felt the world go cold, Ron knew how Harry felt about being called a freak. It was Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia’s favourite way to insult him. It sent a visceral, violent rage into Harry. Before he could even really register what he was doing, Ron was on the ground with his nose bent gruesomely to the left side of his face.
Harry was panting, resisting the urge to continue hitting Ron. Hermione gasped and rushed to his side.
“Harry! What have you done? You can’t resort to violence like that!” Harry sighed, his anger spiking. Leave it to Hermione to yet again defend Ron. Never Harry no, 7 years of being best friends clearly meant nothing once she started to date Ron.
“You know what, don’t bother. Clearly I’m too depressed and too selfish to be friends with you. Hope it works out for you two because I won’t be sticking around.” Harry spat at the two shocked faces in front of him.
“Harry, don’t do anything rash, I’m sure Ron–” her voice was choked, tears welling in her eyes but Harry interrupted nonetheless.
“Save it. I’m not interested in coming second to someone who’s so blatantly wrong. Honestly don’t bother, I hope you’re happy with your choices Hermione.” And with that he left, not sparing a single glance back.
Harry just wanted to finally be normal, but now he could never be normal again. On the bad days, his mind would skip over to the friends he left behind, if he could even call them that anymore. Running away to limbo didn't exactly put you in most people's good books. He would have flashbacks from the stupidest things, like a cup shattering on the floor as if it were the walls of Hogwarts, cracking from spellfire. Sometimes when the fireplace was going he could smell burning flesh. He couldn't even begin to imagine how furious Molly would be, she was aghast when she found out that Harry had tried to kill himself so many times.
Maybe she thought he'd succeeded, maybe she mourned him and put a grave near his parents in his honour.
“Harry dear, stop this please. I can’t bury one of my children.” He was said he was sorry to her everyday even though she couldn't hear him.
Harry was bored, Harry was depressed and he was tired of being stuck with someone who very clearly did not want him here 90% of the time. He had already tried to do normal things, he had tried to practice magic but he’d quickly read and practiced what felt like every single fucking spell under the sun. He tried gardening and while it was a pleasant pastime all the flowers he grew never died so it was a short lived hobby. He did cook for himself, but it wasn’t nearly as fun when you had no one to share it with. Even if Harry was never alone, he was so alone, and so fucking bored. He wanted to live again, he wanted to feel things again, he wanted to experience life again.
Eventually Harry made some semblance of peace with his circumstances, but it took some time. Harry had come to the afterlife in 1999, but by 2005 he had really come around to being with Death forever even if he was still bored a lot of the time. Even Death himself seemed less irritated by Harry’s endless questions, he only got annoyed at Harry 50% of the time now. His depression lessened, but his nightmares remained. He did still get flashbacks to the war, but thankfully they had waned off in the passing years. He drank far too much, constantly raiding the liquor cabinet in the kitchens, but it helped. For Harry it was hard to be depressed, to remember when he was drunk.
Now he was restless; honestly it was a miracle when a book interested him enough to stay silent for a few hours. Death regularly added new titles to his ever growing collection to try and sway Harry away from speaking. It would hurt Harry’s feelings if he cared.
Currently Harry was engrossed in a riveting tale of a kid who wants to become the king of pirates. The shenanigans they got into on this place called Water 7 left Harry giggling in the corner. Death was in the middle of reading when he sighed and shot Harry a look of absolute annoyance. If he wasn’t already immortal, he would have died for sure. Harry just giggled again knowing he’d distracted the being enough to lose his place on the page. Death grumbled to himself as his fingers closed around his black quill, tightening until it cracked.
“Imp, we need to have a serious talk about your tendency to interrupt my work.” Harry sighed and closed his book. He looked at Death and shrugged,
“This time I really didn’t mean to.”
“What about the last 100 times?”
“Okay maybe 90 of those I meant to but not this time!” He exclaimed. Honestly, what did Death expect? Harry was permanently 18 and not exactly in the right environment to grow and change. Death looked at him clearly contemplating. After a few minutes he put his papers down and turned fully to Harry.
“Harry, how would you feel if you went back?”
“Back? Like back to the living world?”
“Yes, I can send you back if you would like. Perhaps a change of scenery would be nice?” He sat still, shock radiating over him. Go back? Back to being with real life people again? He wasn’t sure he could handle going back to London, he had no one there for him anymore.
“Do I have to go back to the same place?” He quietly asked Death.
“No, you can go anywhere you’d like. I would help you obtain the correct documents and citizenship. You just need to have an idea of where.” Death replied. Harry contemplated; America would be nice, surely less people would know of Harry Potter there, plus he could always take Sirius or his Mums last name and forgo the Potter (sorry Dad).
“Can I change my name too? I’d like to stay Harry but use either Evans or Black for a last name. Also I was thinking America, somewhere not too sunny, and that's small. I’m so sick of big cities.”
“I have the perfect place in mind." Harry felt sickened by Death's smiling and calm nature, it really really did not suit him.
“Hey won’t you be bored if I go? Come on, we're basically best friends at this point!” Harry said, mischief lacing his voice.
“We are not best friends, you’re an impish and impulsive presence in my afterlife that I cannot wait to be rid of.” Death replied, a solid glare lighting up his face.
“Come on Deathy, you know I make your boring life worth it! Why would you do without my never ending wisdom?” He said, smiling innocently. Death pinched the bridge of his nose, nostrils flaring as he probably fought the urge to set Harry on fire, again.
“Go pack your bags Harry, and if you ever call me 'Deathy' again I will not hesitate to set you on fire, again.” His voice sent chills down Harry’s spine as he quickly scrambled to his feet and out of his office. He knew that if he and Death were on the same page about threats, that it would come true if you didn’t run.
Unbeknownst to Harry, Death smiled, and quietly murmured to himself.
“I will miss you Harry Potter.”