A Defender Paladin Production...
Based on Reptilla 28's Challenge...
Probably Never to be Finished
Also Known as:
How I Learned to Stop Hating the Reaper
The sound echoed throughout the chamber.
Thud, thud, thud.
The beating of a skull against a thick oak desk continued to ring hollowly through the room.
"Damn you Potter!" The man behind the desk snarled as he continued to hammer his skull against the cold wood.
His attendant, a young woman shifted awkwardly, moving her weight to her left leg. Her arms held several folders that were starting to weigh on her.
Head still placed firmly on the large desk he held up a bony hand to stop her in mid request.
"I know dammit. I know." He replied shortly.
She winced and took a few steps back tentatively.
Thud, Thud, Thud.
Finally, after a few more minutes of the pounding of wood against bone ended, and a large red indentation marred the man's forehead. Bloodshot steel gray eyes, and a rumpled suit completed the disheveled ensemble.
"Send the moron in." He growled as he straightened his blue and yellow powertie.
"Yes sir." His coworker nodded eagerly, glad to get out of his presence.
Of COURSE it was Potter. When wasn't his problems involving the idiot?
Thankfully, he wasn't required to be nice. He certainly wasn't in any mood to be kind anyways. Slowly the quiet teen entered, still looking (and understandably so) totally lost. Without speaking he jammed a bony index finger at the simple wood chair across from the gargantuan desk.
"Sit down Potter." He growled, the rumbling tone akin to the first murmurs of a large and violent tremor.
Quietly, the black haired teen took a seat, his emerald green eyes peering into the strange man's strange steel grey irises.
"Here's the deal idiot. YOU ARE DEAD!" The man roared, not bothering to explain himself, who he was, or what he did.
Harry's face paled, and the widened eyes would have been comical in any other situation.
"NO! YOU ARE GOING TO LISTEN AND I'M GOING TO TALK!" Ripping out a patch of his short gray hair, he tossed it to the side.
"You have no idea how much paperwork, headaches, and nuisances you've caused! NONE WHATSOEVER!" The man's voice continued in an irate roar.
However, he managed to calm himself after a few moments. Clenching his fist a few times, he spoke in a much more normal, but still angered speech pattern.
"Look, here's the thing. Most people only die once. YOU HOWEVER DIDN'T SEEM TO GET THE MEMO." And the explosive anger was back.
Oh well, at least the Reaper had managed to hold it in for a good ten seconds.
"YOU, NO YOU HAD TO BE SPECIAL ONE TIME WASN'T ENOUGH, NO TEN TIMES WASN'T ENOUGH. NOT EVEN TEN TIMES THAT WAS ENOUGH. YOU, YOU'VE MANAGED TO KICK THE BUCKET NOT ONE HUNDRED TIMES BUT A HUNDRED AND NINETY NINE TIMES! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THAT MEANS?!" The reaper stood and stalked over to the nearby alcohol cabinet and poured himself a glass of whiskey.
Downing the glass in a single gulp he poured and downed a second one, trying to calm himself.
"Wait… You mean I've died almost two hundred times?" Harry finally wrapped his mind around the number.
"That's right ingrate! Congratulations, you've died more times than anyone in the course of human history. Now that is an accomplishment that you should be proud of!" The man barked sarcastically as he poured and downed yet another glass of the 'medicine'.
Thankfully, for Harry the liquor soon started effecting the man, and he calmed considerably. As he felt it course through his veins he returned to the desk and rested his red forehead against his left hand's knuckles.
"I really don't get it. You've got more power in your little finger than most magical creatures have power, you're moderately intelligent, thank god for small miracles," The man added with a faint mutter before resuming. "you inspire loyalty, and have a soul mate. I mean seriously, what more do you need?"
"Wait, Soul Mate?" Harry tilted his head in confusion as he heard the statement.
"Eh, a couple of em actually. You get to choose your own fate kid, but some 'Granger' girl is the most compatible with you currently."
"What about Ginny?" Harry asked curiously.
"Eh, she's one of the least compatible actually. BUT, we're getting off topic." The man swiftly returned the topic to what he'd actually planned on.
"Okay, so long story short is you've died way too many times, the divine isn't too pleased with all these deaths, and our Department R.E.A.P.E.R.S. has been given orders in regards to should you die another time. Look, you had just one job. Kill Voldemort, find a loved one, and live to a ripe old age of nearly three hundred buried beside your loved ones. Thankfully, for you, I managed to wrangle an agreement from the R.E.A.P.E.R.S. board. Basically, because you're on attempt number two hundred, this is your last shot, assuming you'd like to try that last time."
Harry shook his head.
"If I've died that many times, I'll just die again right?" Harry asked miserably.
His reaper shook his head.
"I really don't suggest giving up like that. You'd only have one future if you do."
That got the gloomy teen's attention.
"Ever hear of hell? It's real. And it's far, far worse than any story you've ever been told. Basically, you have to succeed or go there."
"So I don't actually have a choice do I?"
The Reaper nodded almost pleasantly. Then, he frowned as he made an observation.
"Ah… That's right. If I just send you back as is, you'll just die from the get go." Thus, the Reaper began to dig through his desk, muttering all the while.
Every once in a while, the man's mutterings made sense to Harry and he learned a few interesting facts.
"Lockheart's Pink Underwear…"
Okay, so he learned some things he didn't want to.
A few 'centuries' passed with seemingly random papers flipped about the room before at long last, the man emerged with a small folder.
"Right, so here's the thing... I'll let you keep all your memories on one tiny condition."
"What do you mean 'let me keep my memories'?" Harry nearly shouted, his eyes widening.
Still, Harry's reaper waved him off almost lazily.
"Standard procedure kid. Normally, we're required to drop you off within an hour of your previous demise, with all memories of your death cleared. But… Considering if you went back, you'd just have another AK to the face. Either from Voldemort, or from overly prejudiced blood purists." Leaning back he explained.
"Part of your requirement is to live till you're nearly three hundred. So, if I sent you back, you might beat Volde, but you'd still fail your destiny and end up in hell. Now, I don't want that, and I'm sure you don't want that. So, there's one other option… We send you back to the age of five."
Harry blinked in confusion.
"Huh?" He asked eloquently as he leaned forward on his wooden chair.
"Now, if we sent you back there, once again you'd have your memories wiped of all events past that age. So your memories of six, seven, and so on wouldn't be there. But… With this contract, you'll be given an additional responsibility, but be allowed to keep your memories."
Shaking his head, he felt weary.
"What kind of responsibility?"
The aged reaper grinned.
"Become the leader of the world of course."
Harry's eyes bulged.
"WHAT?" He yelped.
It was too much for the now hysterical reaper. A few minutes passed before he once again regained control.
"Just messing with you. Actually, you'll need to find a solution to save all those who aren't blood purists."
Sighing in relief, Harry slumped into his chair, glad that he had a much less insane requirement placed on his shoulders.
"Anyway, lots of paperwork to go over kid. Sign here, here, here…" Thus another few 'centuries' passed with Harry's hand feeling more made of lead than flesh.
This was going to be a demanding experience wasn't it?
Please, don't expect more out of this. It was just something I've always wanted to KIND of do because that challenge has so much potential for antics. However, considering I've already got a time travel story done (extremely poorly at that...) and another I REALLY need to get back to... Well, you get the idea.
Admittedly, my passion for HP fics is still frail at best, but I'm trying. The biggest problem is I've read 99% of the good ones and it seems like most of them are now 'hurhurhur ima mega super duper powerful and no one can stop me. Oh I also have a magical trunk hurhur.' (Okay, some aren't THAT bad but... You get the point. It's demotivating nevertheless.)
Hopefully, I'll be able to continue writing in HP fanfiction, but I've actually been throwing ideas around for an actual book. I've actually made a little bit of profit from articles online so that's a bit of encouragement too.
My biggest problem is that I have TOO many ideas jumbled around and I can't decide on WHICH one I want to do first.
I might put a spin on the actual book ideas to make a HP mini fic and see what you all think of them. Any input from you is greatly appreciated.
(How can I stop with this ridiculous ANs at the end oops)