When they stopped, Harry breathed for a moment and tried not to spew.

"I hate travelling by magic," he said after a very long minute of controlling his rebellious stomach.

"Maaaan, you are British," was the unexpected response.

He opened his eyes. On his left laid sprawling London: tall, narrow flats interspersed with renovated inns, the British Museum, Cleopatra's Needle, Charing Cross, Big Ben, the Tower of London, and some of Harry's favorite restaurants that surrounded the entrance to Diagon Alley when he managed to sneak out during the summer before third year. Despite these landmarks being nowhere near each other, Harry could pick them out like he could see through the buildings, like the buildings were mere fog that he could see through. It made no sense, especially considering what was to his right.

On his right laid a moor, the type of field that he saw when going from Little Whinging to London. It was dotted with manors and cottages and houses of all sizes and shapes (and impractical balancing acts, likely aided by magic), and Harry was pretty sure that he spotted a few Quidditch hoops.

"I haven't exactly been out of the country," Harry said absently, spinning in place to get a better look. "Where is everyone? London is never this quiet."

"Did you miss the fact that this isn't London?" Izanami asked curiously.

"I'm quite sure that even if this was London filled with victims of the Killing Curse only, that it would be as full as regular London is, if not moreso," Harry replied. He stepped to his left, getting a sudden rush of vertigo as the landscape rushed to envelope him. He now stood on a random London street, surrounded on all sides by the city of the dead. As soon as he did so, the people appeared. The city came to life.

Izanami popped into existence behind him and blinked a few times. "Oh. You choose if you want the country or the city life. That's pretty cool."

A child of about ten came up to them and said, "Hey mister, you probably need to go thataways," and wandered off.

'Thataways' turned out to be somewhere to his right. Lacking a better idea, he complied. Izanami followed.

At a loss as to what he was supposed to find, Harry stuck to the sidewalks and played a dancing game with a redheaded woman about his age, maybe a bit older, while they tried to get by one another and kept turning in the same direction to avoid each other. Izanami laughed with him and planted him in place, saying, "Sit still, Harry, and let the woman by."

The woman stopped. "Harry?"

Harry looked at her for a moment, not really recognizing her. At the same time that he really looked at her and spotted her eyes, Izanami said, "Mrs. Potter!"

Small wonder that he hadn't recognized his own mother. He was used to seeing her face twisted in adrenaline and fear, or not even fully looking at the camera as she looked at his father and his friends. The few photos of her looking at the camera, she was grinning from ear-to-ear. She looked nothing like her photos with her face lined in polite amusement or stunned and disbelieving.

"Mum," he said finally, not really sure what to do.

"Why are you dead?!" she half-screeched in fear, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly.

"If it helps, he's not," Izanami said helpfully. "Harry, don't set the bakery on fire."

Harry pulled back from the hug just long enough to squash out the blue flames dancing around a loaf of bread, now rather charred.

"What do you mean 'he's not'?" his mother asked, significantly less shrill. "Who are—oh."

Apparently his mother looked up and actually saw Izanami, in all her death goddess glory. She promptly detangled herself from Harry and curtsied.

"He's not actually dead," Izanami said, looking vaguely uncomfortable as she waved at his mother to stand again. "Through a rather unusual set of circumstances, he's now the death god in charge of the AK victims."

Lily Potter looked from Izanami—who, despite her humanoid body, looked only vaguely human—to her son, who was in his casual robes and some Muggle clothes underneath, the picture of normal wizardry.

"Is this where I call bullshit?" she asked flatly.

Harry burst into laughter.

When Harry came back from the realm of the dead—his realm of the dead, which was even weirder—giggling like a loon, Hermione looked concerned.

"Who called bullshit?" Ron asked immediately.

Harry's giggles blew up into laughter again, then guffaws. Izanami looked irritated. "He's been giggling since five minutes into his realm."

I can't blame him, Hela said.

"You were only gone for ten minutes," Hermione said.

His realm actually subscribes to time? Why couldn't my realm do that? Hades grumped.

"My mother," Harry gasped out, "my mother—practically canonized Lily Potter—took one look at Izanami and me and called bullshit as soon as Izanami said that I wasn't dead but a death god."

San la Muerte laughed aloud, but only Harry could hear him.

Hermione forced down the giggles at the idea of Lily Potter, whose story had been scrubbed clean after her death and her son's inexplicable living, calling bullshit to two deities…one of whom was her son, which made the whole situation even funnier.

"And Dad," Harry wheezed.

"He looked rather bleak," Izanami agreed, smirking a bit.

"He said, 'Well. That's one way to do it.' And sat on the couch."

One way to do what? Die? Morrigan asked.

I guess so, Coatlicue responded.

More like not-die, Donn said.

"Why did you make your realm so mundane? The couch still had plastic wrap on it," Izanami asked.

"What?" Ron asked blankly.

What?

Hermione looked at Harry strangely. "They just got transferred to a new realm so they…have to move in?"

"Apparently," Izanami said.

"So, utterly mundane world. What happens to the wizards who have no idea what to do in the Muggle world?" Hermione asked.

"It's not like they can get hungry or freeze to death," Ron pointed out. "They're already dead."

If we're making Hermione the goddess of hopeless cases, he's going to be the god of tact, Mors said.

Harry snorted and Izanami covered up a grin.

"Sensitivity, Ron," Hermione said.

She truly is the goddess of hopeless cases, Donn agreed.

"The only people who care that they're dead is Moaning Myrtle, Hermione," Ron said. "And the only reason why Nearly-Headless Nick protests is because he's only Nearly-Headless, and not All-The-Way Headless."

Izanami said, "I'm leaving."

If you haven't caught the crazy by now, don't tempt fate, Osiris said, laughter bubbling up in his voice.

Yes please, come here, I have something to show you, Izzy! Coatlicue said.

"Bye, Izanami," Harry said.

Run, Izanami, Anubis drawled. The mortals bite.

"No, we don't!" Harry exclaimed. Izanami vanished, shaking her head.

I don't think that crazy is an airborne virus so it must be transferred some other way, Anubis said, poking fun.

"We don't what?" Hermione asked.

"Bite," Harry said. "And I don't think that crazy is a virus at all!"

"That's right, it's hereditary," Hermione said promptly.

Ron choked, and Morrigan roared with laughter.

"Okay, who was Hermione sassing?" Ron asked.

"Anubis," Harry said. "Morrigan's laughing, though."

Hopeless cases and sassing, Anubis said musingly. Which pantheon wants her?

None of them, because those three come as a set and they'll destroy the world if she's immortalized, Thanatos pointed out.

The Greeks are big on tragedy and inappropriate comedy, Morrigan teased.

The Celts are infamous for warrior and violent deaths in the face of sure defeat, Thanatos fired back.

Harry rubbed his forehead.

"What are they doing now?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Discussing which pantheon you'd be added to if/when you get thumped on the head with a magic book and immortalized," Harry said. "The general consensus is NO."

"No?" she questioned, a confused look on her face even as she started to grin.

"Us three will destroy the world if you're immortalized, the Greeks are big on tragedy and inappropriate comedy—said by Morrigan, the Celts are big on violent deaths in the face of sure defeat—said by Thanatos…basically trying to palm you off on someone else because no one wants to be in the blast radius. Despite the fact that normally I'm the blast radius and they don't seem to have a problem with me."

Okay, set me straight. How do you three work together? Morrigan asked.

"Morrigan asked how we three worked together," Harry said, addressing his two friends. "Through shitty fate or too much curiosity I end up neck-deep in trouble with some guidance—Hermione—and sheer dumb luck—Ron—helping me both into and out of trouble, which normally revolves around someone either really out for my guts or just faking it really well through propaganda and supposedly-impossible feats."

Hermione looked at him. "That's…actually pretty accurate for a run-on sentence."

"Are you trying to channel McGonagall?" Ron asked, amused. "I'm not sure if I should laugh at the 'sheer dumb luck' even if it's true."

"She put it best," Harry said, shrugging.

That's terrifying, Anubis said mildly.

"Sooo…Hermione's terrifying in her own right, but she doesn't stumble across trouble in its various incarnations like I do," Harry said.

Was that supposed to be reassuring? Hela asked.

"No," Harry said, laughing.

I suppose Daddy wouldn't mind being usurped for the position of Foretold Harbinger of Ragnarok, Hela mused.

"Who is 'Daddy', what is 'Rag-nar-yuck', and why is he supposed to be a harbinger of such?" Harry asked slowly.

Hermione laughed a little. "Ragnarok is the Norse prophecy of the end of the universe, which is supposed to be brought about by Loki."

"Loki Liesmith, god of Chaos, is your dad?" Harry said loudly to Hela, his voice inadvertently going an octave higher.

Harry could feel her kick back in her throne, radiating smugness. Yes. Yes he is.

"Why…that sounds like the best thing ever to you, Harry, but why? Loki is generally cast as the villain in the Edda," Ron asked curiously.

"Ron. Ron, think for a moment. Who am I the son of?"

Hermione looked confused for a split second before she starting giggling. "You're a fan! You're a fan of Loki! I never would have pegged you as a fan of him!"

Hela was gleefully cackling in the back of his mind as he grabbed Ron by the shoulders and shook him lightly. "I am the son of Prongs, Ron, and an investor in your brothers' prank shop. Loki is the god of chaos. The Trickster. You know me by now!" he said, almost shouting, "What am I perpetually stalked by?"

"Dark idiots?" Ron said.

"Well, yes," Harry acknowledged, "but CHAOS, Ron! My life is chaotic, Ron!"

"We know," Ron said dryly. "We were there for most of it."

"There are days where I just want to march up to him and punch him in his smug face but then there are days where I just want to get down on my knees and thank him for some of the best parts of my life," Harry said gleefully.

Daddy is the best, Hela agreed. Sometimes overly dramatic and angsty but a total badass and totally overprotective of us kids.

Are you going to tell Harry about how you got Helheim? Mors asked. That's the best story.

"I have not heard this story and I would greatly appreciate it if you shared it," Harry said immediately. "Because I'm assuming it involves Loki somehow and it's not just a sudden subject change."

The smug feeling from Hela intensified. So, the story starts with Odin being an asshat.

"Of course," Harry said, nodding.

Daddy is the whole Harbinger of Ragnarok and so Odin doesn't like him all that much, for all that he raised Daddy. So Daddy has kids and they're all "monsters"—Sleipnir, Fenrir, Jormungandr, and myself, of which three of us took the form of animals and the last is literally half dead. Odin ends up either imprisoning or exiling all of us to either the far reaches of Asgard or to other realms entirely.

"Complete asshat," Harry agreed. He wasn't familiar with the insult—it sounded American—but it was obviously an insult.

Hermione coughed in surprise. "Who's an asshat?"

"Odin," Harry said, intending on relaying the story in its entirety to them later.

So by the time Daddy has me, he's prepared to take me and run to wherever he needed to go to keep me safe. So one night he asked the All-Mother in secret to keep me safe and hidden for the entire next day from Odin, and she agrees. He then goes out and slaughters the demons of Helheim and conquers the realm.

Harry blinked. And blinked again. "He…conquered a realm for you? And then handed it over so that you could have your every whim indulged?"

Yep! Hela said cheerfully.

"I…don't know how to process how wicked that is," Harry said.

Hela, Donn, Mors, and Morrigan all began to laugh.

In other news, I got a new laptop, regained access to this site, and promptly forgot to update all the stories I couldn't update.

Sorry.

Come find me on tumblr and we can scream about basically anything. This is a screaming time, if there ever was one. (a)rubythecrimsonwriter