A/N: This here is just something silly that popped into my head last weekend. Pure fluffy crack-fic, I'm inflicting it on you just to get it out of my head. That and because I had to push chapter 26 of LLTQ back a week, but I wanted to post something today. So enjoy (or not), and feel free to say 'Hullo' yourself :)

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hullos

Harry Potter sat outside Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor trying to figure out what was happening to him. It had started the day after he had defeated Voldemort for the last time; a stranger in a hooded cloak had come up to him, said, "Hullo," and then walked off. While the fact that he had no idea who it was bothered him, the part that worried him was that nobody else seemed to see or even acknowledge the presence of the hooded stranger.

Since then, it had happened at least once a day, and lately it had been happening several times a day. Each time the stranger came up to him, said, "Hullo," and walked away. He knew it was the same person, because the voice was always the same, but beyond that he had no idea who it was. He'd tried asking Hermione who she thought it was, but she just said, "Who?" and so he'd dropped it.

He was just coming to the conclusion that he was losing his mind when the stranger came up to him again. Before the stranger could say a word, Harry said, "Rather than just saying, "Hullo," why don't you sit and talk to me?"

The figure paused for a moment, then nodded and took a seat. "Hullo, Harry Potter," said the figure. "Or would you prefer if I called you master?"

Harry blinked. "Master? Why would you call me master?"

The figure raised a skeletal(!) hand and lowered his hood, revealing a gaunt face. "I am Death, and you are my master."

Harry blinked again, then shook his head. "Nononononono. This can't be happening. I am not the Master of Death."

"But you are," replied Death. "You are the current master of the Wand, Stone and Cloak. That makes you the Master of Death."

"But I dropped the Stone!" said Harry. "And I put the Wand back in Dumbledore's tomb."

"Doesn't matter," said Death. "Until someone finds the Stone, or takes your wand away, you're still their master. And that's why I keep saying, Hullo."

Harry stared for a moment, then smacked his forehead with his palm. "This is just a bad joke, isn't it?" he asked, glaring at Death.

Death threw his head back and laughed, while Harry kept glaring at him. "Yes," he eventually replied, "yes it is. You're the master of the Deathly Hallows, so you also get the Deathly 'Hullo's." Then he started laughing again.

Harry shook his head in disgust, threw a few coins on the table, then got up and left. He'd eventually figure out a way make Death stop, but for now he needed to ensure that nobody else realized what was going on, or he'd have yet another hyphenated title to put up with. It was bad enough being the Master of Death, but he'd be damned if the papers started calling him the Master-of-Death.

FIN