Title: Death of the Discworld
Story Summary: Harry fills in while Death is on vacation. HP/Discworld crossover. Based on Rorschach's Blot's story "Make a Wish".
DEATH OF THE DISCWORLD OMAKES
DON'T PUT ON THE MAGIC RING
Omake: No matter what the fandom, don't put on the magic ring
Author Note: omake to chapter one, "Death of the Discworld" – another way Harry might have become Death… Takes place after "The Hunt For Harry Potter."
Harry attended the headmaster's funeral sadly.
"…but despite his many accomplishments and honours, the one he valued most was his position at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," the eulogist droned, "where he has been known to generations of young people as first their mischievous Transfiguration professor, and later the kindly headmaster…"
Afterwards Harry went up to the headmaster's office where Professor McGonagall was boxing up all of Professor Dumbledore's things.
"You said you wanted to speak to me after the funeral, professor?" Harry asked.
"Yes, Potter," McGonagall spoke gravely, "I am the executor of Albus' will, and he chose to leave you these."
She gave Harry a sealed envelope with his name on it in loopy old-fashioned letters, and
"His wand?" Harry asked in awe.
"Indeed," McGonagall spoke sadly, "he believed that you would take care of it and keep it safe."
"I will professor," Harry promised and taking the older woman by surprise wrapped her in a hug, "take care."
Outside he flooed to Black Island.
"I'm taking another vacation," he told Henchgirl sadly, "Dumbledore might have made some mistakes but I still cared about him a lot."
"He was a great man," Henchgirl agreed, "where would we be if he and Nicholas Flamel never discovered the twelve uses of dragon blood?"
Harry donned his usual disguise and headed to Vienna, he'd heard they had fantastic musical heritage and was curious.
"Name?" the customs agent drawled.
The customs agent froze.
"First name?" she croaked. She had a weird rash on her neck, Harry noticed, kind of purple.
"Mister," Harry replied. "You know you should really get that rash checked, it looks nasty."
"Have a nice day," the customs agent said mechanically, as soon as he was gone she was gonna take sick leave and see a healer.
As it turned out, one look at her rash and she was instantly rushed to the quarantine ward, kappan influenza was deadly and highly contagious. If they hadn't caught it at such an early stage she would have died and Vienna probably would have face a horrific epidemic, thank Merlin for the merciful nature of Mr Black…
Harry meanwhile was settling into his hotel room. He opened the letter Dumbledore had left him and read it.
"My Dear Harry," Harry read, "first of all I must apologise for the way I have manipulated your life for the sake of prophecy. You might have had a happy childhood and a safer life had I put your happiness first rather than what I believed to be the greater good… I know now that this was a terrible and cruel mistake, and do not expect forgiveness, but merely wish to convey my deepest and most heartfelt regret and apologies… well, he's doing a good job," Harry muttered to himself.
"Nonetheless, despite my errors, I know you to have become a brave and honourable man, and as such, the only one I trust with the task I must now ask of you. The wand that I bear is no ordinary wand, but a terrible weapon: a legendary artefact known as the Elder Wand, said to have belonged to Death himself. It carries with it a history of dark magic and the blackest of deeds, and for it to fall into the wrong hands would be disastrous. Therefore I must ask that you keep it with you and guard it from all who would seek to possess it… do not use it if you can avoid it, for the wand carries a will of its own. With my faith and all my love, Albus Dumbledore," Harry finished.
He stared at the wand, sitting innocently in his trunk.
"Eh, I'll worry about it later, right now I just want to go to bed."
The next day Harry saw the sights, beginning with listening to the Vienna Boys Choirsing at Sunday Mass in the cathedral.
"You sound like angels," he told a chorister later, "your singing is one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard."
"Thanks," the boy said, "who are you?"
"My name's Mr Black," Harry said, "anyway, I'll be on my way."
The chorister was left to stand looking stunned, sure, the Vienna Boys Choir was considered one of the best in the world, but to be compared to angels?
"Well, he'd know I suppose," the mumbled, proud as well as shocked.
Meanwhile Harry was checking out the shops.
"I have just the thing for you," the shopkeeper smiled.
Disappearing out the back, she returned with an old-fashioned ring set with a smooth black stone.
"It used to be one of the pesky things Voldemort used to keep himself alive," she explained, "now it's simply a handsome antique."
"Fine," Harry sighed.
As soon as he put the ring on, a weird tingle ran through his body… then he found himself at King's Cross station.
"What?" What had those stupid shopkeepers done to him now.
"Hello Prongslet," a voice grinned, "I'm impressed."
Harry turned around.
"Yep," James Potter agreed. "It's good to see you, and I'm glad you're continuing the pranking tradition, well done, the omelette and basket-weaving classes were hysterical, and don't even get me started on the whole Mr Black thing. Sirius feels honoured by the way, the most fearsome figure of wizarding legend, named after him."
"Not that I'm not happy to see you or anything," Harry was confused, "but what's going on?"
"You own the cloak, the wand, and now the ring of Death," James explained cheerfully, "they're kind of the standards of office, get hold of all three of them and you're the new personification of Death. Congratulations, son."
"So now I really am Death?" Harry asked in shock.
"Yep," James agreed. "Your mother's very proud, said she always knew you were destined for great things."
"Wonderful," Harry mumbled, "why is it always me?"
"Anyway," James continued, "to leave this place, just will yourself away."
Harry exchanged a hug with his father, then willed himself back to the shop in Vienna.
"Y-you…" the shopkeeper stared in terror, somehow the Elder Wand had transformed into a scythe and Harry had turned all skeletal-looking.
"I hate you all," Harry informed her.
Shaking the Elder Scythe until it became a wand again, Harry glumly wondered why this stuff always happened to him, why?
oo o0o oo
Theodore Hanatos was having a great time at the beach with his latest girl friend. This one was a French gymnast named Aimee Beaucoup, she was easygoing and very …flexible. His last girlfriend had been an art student, and at one point had told him he had a classic Grecian profile. She didn't understand why he found it so hysterically funny.
As he watched her run about in the foam, Theodore heard someone clear their throat pointedly.
He looked around to see a man in black glaring down at him… holding a very distinctive scythe.
"Thanatos?" the man grated out.
"Hey newbie," 'Theodore' grinned cheerfully, "the Adornments finally chose a new Death, huh?"
"Explain, Death snapped.
"No problem," Theodore was happy to oblige, it wasn't his problem any more. "The avatar of Death is selected by three artefacts, the Adornments. They've taken various shapes over the centuries – gotta roll with the times, you know? – but when I first got them they were a spear, a stone amulet, and a set of kingly robes. That was about three thousand years ago now, when I took over from a guy calling himself the Scorpion, who'd been at it for four thousand. Went on to rule Egypt, but anyway, he said that before him Death had been a man of a people that no longer walked the earth, and the Adornments had been a stone axe, a sharpened stone, and a wolf pelt. From the description he gave I'd say now the guy he replaced was a Neanderthal. What happened before that, and where the Adornments came from, is a mystery."
"Is there anything I can do?" the new Death looked furious and dismayed.
"Afraid not," Theodore said happily, "the Adornments'll move on and leave you mortal when you feel about ready to die, until then you're stuck with the job."
"Theodore ignored the melodramatic angsty monologue that followed in favour of watching the way parts of Aimee's anatomy bounced as she jogged up the beach; it was good to know it was someone else getting picked on by the cosmos this time.
oo o0o oo
"How was your vacation?" Hencgirl asked brightly.
"I. Don't. Want. To. Talk. About. It."
"Okay," she agreed, "what's the tattoo for?" she asked instead, he had a Θ just above his collarbone in black ink, "and is that an inversed ankh?"
"I. Don't. Want. To. Talk. About. It," Harry repeated, going for drinks with the former avatar of Death had been a bad idea, going to a tattoo parlour with him afterwards had been a plain stupid one.
Thanatos was the Greek god of Death, during the middle ages he morphed into the Grim Reaper. The Scorpion King was an actual figure from about three thousand years ago, he's said to have united lower Egypt or something, but very little is known about him otherwise. The ankh, of course, was the Egyptian symbol of Life, and I have no idea what an inversed one would look like, but I'm sure it would be neat. Finally, the Greek symbol Theta or Θ is not only a letter of the alphabet but also a symbol representing Death.