Summary – Spoilers for Season Five of SPN. When Lucifer went to Carthage to raise Death, he did not expect to meet Death's new Master. SLASH.

Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter or Supernatural. They belong to JK Rowling and Eric Kripke respectively.

Pairing – Lucifer/Harry

This is for Crystal. Happy Birthday, Colibri! Hope you like it! *throws glitter and confetti in the air*

Chapter One

Lucifer felt the rising power that signified that he was very close to achieving his goal and shot a glance over his shoulder to where he had thrown Dean Winchester, only to scowl when he saw that they had gone. Meaning that his brother, Castiel, had also escaped.

Turing his attention back to where Death would rise, he smirked, eyes coolly glancing over the dead bodies of the demons, smirk widening when a bolt of lightning hit the ground inches in front of him, leaving behind a strong smell of ozone and a short, frail-looking figure.

Once the dust and soil that had been thrown up from the force of the lightning hitting the ground, had settled, Lucifer felt confusion run though him, though didn't show any on his face, as he saw the figure properly.

The man had pale, almost waxen, skin and had dark black hair hanging limply around his face in tangled loose curls. He was short, standing at about five foot eight, tops, and was wearing a long black robe that practically dwarfed his frail body and billowed on the floor around his feet, making Lucifer wonder if the robe actually belonged to the man, who was most certainly not Death. Lucifer also took note that showing from out of the too long sleeves was a strange wooden stick in the figure's right hand, and a curved blade, similar to Death's scythe but couldn't be the actual blade of Death, held in the figures left hand.

Lucifer shifted and allowed a frown to show on his face as a sign of his displeasure, his moving had caught the attention of the man in front of him, who had been staring at the ground since his arrival. Lucifer felt his body involuntarily freeze for a few nanoseconds when piercing forest green eyes locked on to his own and a black eyebrow rose in a silent question.

"What do you need from the Master of Death?"

When Harry had first started his hunt for all three Deathly Hallows, he hadn't given a thought to the consequences that owning all three might bring. All he knew was that he had to find them before Voldemort got his hands on them. That was the only thought that crossed his mind. In hindsight, he should have given a thought as to why Voldemort wanted all three, as opposed to just the wand. But then, Harry never was well known for thinking things through before doing them.

After he had defeated Voldemort, he had tried to move on with his life. His friends all thought he had been playing dead, they didn't realise that he actually had been dead for a brief moment in time. And Harry, if he was honest, had no intention of ever telling them that fact. He knew they would be happier thinking otherwise. He had shuddered at what Molly Weasley's reaction to the truth may have been.

So he kept silent, and he carried on with his life as he intended it. Well, as everyone around him intended for him to live it. Deep down, Harry knew something was different, wrong with him but he forcefully shoved it to the back of his mind and refused to contemplate what it might be.

It was when he was waiting on the platform to get the train to Hogwarts for his final year there, watching Hermione and Ron bicker, though without any actual heat in their words. He then glanced to his side at where Ginny was standing next to him, laughing at something Luna had said, that he got some idea of what was wrong.

He didn't belong.

He didn't know how or why he didn't belong, just a deep down, gut feeling that he didn't belong with these people. His second realisation came almost immediately after. He didn't feel anything for them. In fact, he didn't feel anything at all.

Harry thought this realisation should have startled him, scared him even. But it just clarified things. He didn't feel anything. Nothing. He didn't feel any affection for his two best friends arguing in front of him like he had before. He didn't feel amusement like he used to at their arguments. And he definitely didn't feel love or even lust towards Ginny, like he should. Or like everyone indicated that he should.

The only emotion he actually felt was confusion. Slight confusion as to when he had stopped feeling anything for anyone or thing around him. He glanced down at the ring on his hand, letting a slight frown mar his pale face. When had he gone back to retrieve that particular Hallow? He had no memory of ever going back into the forest to get it back.

"-ry? Harry!" Harry jerked and dragged his eyes from his ring to look at Ginny in question. He tried to force himself into feeling something for the woman in front of him, but was just left with a faint lingering feel of frustration. "Harry, will you answer me?"

"Sorry, what did you say? I was away with the fairies for a second there." Harry told her, blinking slowly. He had the strange sensation of himself going in slow motion whilst the rest of the world went about at normal speeds.

"I asked you if you were intending to try for the Quidditch team. This is your last year after all. You wouldn't want to miss out on that, would you?" Ginny asked, and Harry felt a spark of annoyance at her voice flash through him, before it disappeared, leaving him blank once more.

"No. No, I don't think I will. I think I'll just focus on my NEWTs." Harry said, wondering if how long his voice had sounded so… strange. Detached almost. And if he was possibly the only one that could hear it.

"You don't want to play Quidditch? But Harry, it's your last year! Possibly your last chance to play at all." Ginny told him, looking at him in shock and Harry just shrugged.

"I need to focus on my studies. I got behind in the year I didn't attend." Harry explained to her, and then grabbed his trunk and moved to get on the train as soon as it arrived into the platform.

It was just before Christmas in his final year at Hogwarts, that the next realisation came to him. He had been too focused on studying everything he could to try and catch up, and also learn whatever he could that wasn't on the curriculum, to notice. However, the last week of school before the holidays, where Harry had turned down Molly's offer of joining them for Christmas, Harry was walking down the halls of the draughty school, making his way back to the dorms before curfew was up, when he passed the Fat Friar.

Harry murmured a soft greeting under his breath as he passed the ghost, then stopped in a brief moment of shock when the ghost bowed his head slightly in respect the carried on walking through the wall.

Harry stared at the wall for a moment, puzzled, before he just turned back around and carried on walking back to the dorms. He put the incident to the back of his mind, explaining it away as an odd, one off, occurrence and fell asleep. When he woke up the next morning, he had forgotten all about it.

Until it happened again the next time he passed a ghost in the halls when he was alone. And again. Harry realised that, for the first time in a long while, he was feeling an emotion for longer than a split second. In fact, he was in an almost perpetual state of confusion.

It was six days later, on Christmas Eve, after having been bowed to by a ghost on no less than eighteen separate occasions that Harry decided to look into it. He was the only one in the castle this year, bar a few teachers. All the other students had wanted to spend the first Christmas after Voldemort's defeat with family, so Harry was safe and free to do whatever he wanted and look up whatever he wished in the library.

He trawled through the different sections, trying to see if any book called out to him, or if he spotted any that looked like it may help him find an answer. He found himself in a dusty, unused section of the library and dragged his fingers along the spines of the books on the shelves, absently reading over them and quickly rejecting them. He had gotten halfway down the aisle when one title caught his eyes. It was on the different myths and legends of the wizarding world.

Given that the wizarding world was a living myth in the eyes of most muggles, Harry pulled the book off the shelf in a brief spate of curiosity, wondering what possible myths people who knew dragons were real, could actually have and walked over to the one table under the window in this row.

He sat down at the table and started to flick through the book, making the occasional noise of slight surprise over some things that really didn't exist, either in this world or the muggle one and spent a good half an hour pondering over why the wizarding world though potassium was a myth. Until he came across one section that made him freeze and his breath to catch in his breath.

The Deathly Hallows.

Harry frowned and then turned the page and started to read the information that the book had on the three supposed mythological items. Absently as he read, his finger rubbed over the ring on his opposite hand, whilst the hand with the ring on, gripped a certain wand tighter.

It was that Christmas that everything changed for Harry as he finally realised the consequences to owning all three items. He found out why he had the ring, even though he had no memory of going back to fetch it, and he found out why the ghosts revered him.

By the start of the next term, Harry Potter had withdrawn from Hogwarts without telling anyone bar the Headmistress, and had left England without informing anyone of where he was going.

For the next few years, Harry wandered around Europe and parts of Asia, just taking in the different cultures, learning different types of magic, and trying to get his head around the fact that he was no longer truly considered human. He funded his travels with the money in his vault, then, when that ran out, by conning people and pick-pocketing. It wasn't like he was going to feel any guilt over it.

Which led to his unfortunate and untimely demise three years after he had left England, and two weeks before his twenty-second birthday. In a back alley in Paris, Harry stole from the wrong person and was too tired to do anything but gasp in shock when a knife was pushed into his side.

His killer let his body drop to the floor, pausing only to take what little money Harry had on him (which belonged to the man in the first place) and then kick him in the stomach, before he ran from the alley and Harry felt his vision fade and heard his heart stop.

So imagine his surprise, if only for a second, when he opened his eyes some time later, gasping and sucking in oxygen into his starved lungs, and weakly pushing himself into a sitting position. His side ached a little, and his shirt was ruined by the bloodstain, but other than that, when he checked, he saw no injury or, indeed, any sign of injury having ever occurred.

It was after he had checked his side, that the pair of shoes just in front of him caught his attention, or, more importantly, the person in those shoes. Harry trailed his eyes slowly up the body and let his eyes come to a stop on an older looking man, wearing a black pinstripe suit, with cold eyes and a silver ring on his right hand.

"About time you chose to die. I couldn't come to you until you died. Rules and all. The reapers were beginning to get antsy. Silly creatures." The man stated, not taking his eyes off of Harry, who just settled into feeling confusion once more. It, seemingly, being the only emotion he could feel for any meaningful length of time.

"I'm sorry, what?" Harry asked, shakily getting up and standing in front of the man, who was taller than him by a couple of inches.

"I am Death, the Horseman. And you are Harry Potter, current holder of all three of the Hallows. Only living person to have been accepted by all three. And perhaps most importantly, my master." The man, Death, said with a respectful bow of his head, leaving Harry feeling somewhat baffled.

"Your master?"


"And I should be dead." Harry stated calmly, frowning slightly before his face smoothed of all emotion once more.

"No. You died. You came back. It's a perk of the job. We all have it. We die, we get killed, hanged, stabbed, blown up, we'll just heal and come back. We don't die. Permanently at least." The man told him and Harry just nodded his head, feeling the normal feeling of numbness coming back, replacing the confusion he had been feeling. It was pleasantly familiar in a very unfamiliar situation.

"Oh. Right. So what do I have to do, being your Master?" Harry asked, once any trace of emotion had left his body, looking at the man in front of him blankly.

"Nothing. If I should have need of you, then I will know where to find you. You have… released me from my temporary jail with your death. The other three do not have masters, but they are trapped. I should count myself to be lucky."

"Sure, if you want." Harry said, feeling tired and wondering just how long he had been technically dead for.

"Do you have any orders for me? Anything I am not allowed to do. Anyone I'm not allowed to kill?" Death asked him and Harry paused, mulling over the question before shrugging.

"I have a question."

"Of course. What would you like to know?"

"Can you take me to Japan? Haven't been able to afford the plane fair to get there yet and I've wanted to go to Hong Kong." Harry said, looking at the man in front of him, who looked stunned at the question and then somewhat perplexed.

"Hong Kong is in China."

"Is it? Well… I've been to China quite often. No one told me I was in Hong Kong. How rude. Well, can you take me to Japan anyway?" Harry asked, after he had pouted slightly, and looked at Death with wide, green eyes.

"I can."

"Brilliant. In that case, take me to Japan, then you can do whatever the hell you wish to do, kill whoever you wish to kill for a whole month. Then I would like you to come back and find me to take me somewhere else. Sound fair?"

"You have no restrictions?" Death asked him suspiciously.

"No killing kittens. I like kittens. Frogs too. Should we be going? If so, can we pop into my room at the local hostel and grab my bag. It has a spare change of clothes." Harry said, ignoring the shocked look that Death was giving him.

"That is all you wish to ban me from killing before their time is up? Kittens and frogs?"

"Yes. There are a lot of both in the world if you think about it. Actually, widen it to amphibians and serpents. That should leave you with enough other species to kill still. Unless you want to kill kittens and frogs. If that is the case, then we may have to have a discussion." Harry said in a cold voice that actually made Death look at him warily.

"You need to change your attire." Death told him, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder and taking them to Harry's hostel room, where Harry grabbed his bag and looked at Death with a raised eyebrow.

"And why is that?"

"You will need to wear the cloak, you should have all three Hallows on you at all time. It will tell everyone that matters who you are and will stop certain upstart beings from starting something they have no chance of finishing."

"That would mean I walk around invisible all the time. It would be awkward and not in the least bit practical." Harry told him, frowning when Death tugged his bag from his hands and reached in it, pulling out the silky cloak.

"If you wish to be seen, then you will be seen." Death assured him and handed the cloak over to Harry, who glanced at him suspiciously, then shrugged and draped it over his shoulders, shocked when his body wasn't invisible.

"No offence, because I know you were the genius behind the whole thing, but can I transfigure it into something else?" Harry asked him, looking down at the cloak that still draped along the floor, being a good five inches too long for him and still the same, strange, silvery material.

"You cannot, but I can." Death told him, and then placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and took them to a city that Harry had never been to before. Judging by the signs and people running around, he guessed he was somewhere in Japan.

Harry jerked in slight shocked when he looked down at himself and saw that his cloak was now robes and they were jet black. He wrinkled his nose however when he saw that the length was still the same, and that translated over to his sleeves also being ridiculously long.

"Ah, thanks then. See you in a month. Remember, no kittens, amphibians or reptiles." Harry told Death, before he turned away and walked down the street, no bothering to look behind him to see if Death had left him.

With the help of Death, Harry managed to travel to more countries, but most of the time always ended up going back to Europe for at least six months of the year. He enjoyed wandering around and learning of different cultures, and learnt that he could feel some emotions. Only strong ones and they never lasted long. Confusion remaining the only emotion that lasted for any noticeable length of time. It was with this realisation that he learnt he was also one scary fucker when truly angry.

And he often got quite angered over the length of his robes, normally when he tripped over them, or trapped them in a door and got strangled. His anger was normally taken out of the nearest person to him, or the poor sap that had helped him get out of the door trap.

So, Harry spent the next seven years quite content to just travel, occasionally calling Death to take the soul of someone who annoyed him or hurt a kitten, and then carried on his way. He would learn new spells or potions occasionally, but mostly he just met new people and releasing any frustrations he let build up over time in various different ways.

Therefore, he was quite surprised, when wandering through the streets of Minsk, cloak dragging along behind him and getting soaked by the snow on the ground, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose and made him stop mid step and look around him.

As the wind began to pick up, whipping his now fairly long and limp hair around his head, Harry let his wand slip in to his hand. He then pulled his miniature, hand-held scythe, which Death had given him after realising just how much trouble Harry could get into just by existing, from his belt and held it in his other hand.

Therefore, he was quite prepared when he got whisked away from Minsk and appeared in a completely different place with an accompanying bolt of lightning. Harry was secretly impressed with that, added to the sense of drama. He found he rather liked a bit of drama.

Someone shifting in front of him made him look up from where he had been looking at his bare feet, wiggling his toes in the ground, and locked eyes with a tall man that radiated power but also looked like he was ill.

"What do you need from the Master of Death?" Harry asked the man, using his official voice, which actually made him sound like he had lost his voice. He also had to urge to eat a strepsil when he used it.

Harry took a slow step forward, smiling at the feel of dewy grass under his feet and then looking up at the man in front of him once there was barely an inch between them.

"Where is the Horseman?"

"You wish for Death? I am his Master, he listens to me." Harry told him a little more forcefully, narrowing his eyes at the man in front of him and wondering just who he was.

"I have called all the Horsemen forth."

"You're starting an Apocalypse? And you wish for my servant's help in this?" Harry asked the man, who seemed to be getting frustrated that Harry wasn't obeying his every wish.

"Do you know who I am?"

"No." Harry admitted with a slight tilt of his head, and he held back a grin when the man took a step back in shock and looked at Harry in confusion.

"I'm Lucifer." The man, Lucifer, told him, in a voice that indicated that Harry should know who he was.

"Hello, Lucifer. I'm Harry, the Master over Death, and until you show me why you wish to destroy this planet, my servant will not help you." Harry informed him politely, blinking blankly when Lucifer actually gaped at him.

"You haven't heard of me? At all?"


"Have you heard of Satan?"

"The evil guy in Christian beliefs? I've heard of him."

"That's me."

"Oh, well, that's nice for you. I'm still not helping you until you tell me why you are doing this."

"I want this world and the pathetic creatures that inhabit it to burn."

"Oh well, in that case. Have at them." Harry said sarcastically, sneering at the man in front of him.

"You would do well not to anger me further." Lucifer told him, glowering at Harry, who just crossed his arms over his chest, making sure to flash the two weapons to remind Lucifer he wasn't completely harmless.

"You are not the first holy figure I have met, nor will you be the last. You think your religion is the only one on this planet? You think the only opposition you will have is from who ever the hell the good guys of Christianity are? There are hundreds of Gods, Goddesses and religious beings out there that will oppose your plans."

"So you are saying you refuse to help me? You have made up your mind?" Lucifer asked him and Harry cocked his head to the side and looked at him closely.

"No. I said I would listen to why you are doing this. I think there is another reason other than the one you gave me. So I will stick around. Watch what you do. Try to find out what it is you wish for my servant to do. And to make sure you don't hurt kittens."

"Ki – So you are willing to give me a chance?" Lucifer asked, having clearly decided not to bother asking about the kitten remark.

"I am. So can I call you Luci?"


"Huh. Lucifer it is then. Where are we by the way?"

A/N – This story was… supposed to turn out a lot darker than it actually did. It was also supposed to be a oneshot. *huffs* I changed that plan, had different ideas that I had to incorporate and this is what I came up with.

So tell me what you think. Harry is a little… strange. He didn't know who Lucifer was because he doesn't follow any religion and no one taught him Christianity. So, he didn't know who Lucifer was. He only knows of religions if he has met their deities. He's met a couple. Lol. Death is in every religion after all.

Was this a good present, Crystal? Hope you have a good day!