Title: Death of the Discworld

Author: TardisIsTheOnlyWaytoTravel

Story Summary: Harry fills in while Death is on vacation. HP/Discworld crossover. Based on Rorschach's Blot's story "Make a Wish".

Author notes:

Like I said, based on "Make a Wish," and it's sequel, by Rorschach's Blot. Also inspired by various omakes .

The first paragraph of this was written by Rorschach as the omake "Belief" in "Back in Black"… the rest of it is more or less mine.

Also, this was originally going to be just a one-shot… but I'm going to add some omakes as well, because while I was trying to write this I kept ending up with omakes instead.

Many thanks to Rorschach for letting me borrow Mr Black and co.

DEATH OF THE DISCWORLD

Harry awoke in a dark and formless void, the last thing he remembered he was drifting off to sleep and now he had woken up somewhere strange.

"Where am I?" Harry asked.

NOWHERE, a dark raspy voice replied. OR POSSIBLY IN NOTHINGNESS, IT'S REALLY HARD TO EXPLAIN.

"Who're . . . nice scythe," Harry said in admiration.

THANK YOU, a dark figure in black robes replied. I'VE ALSO ADMIRED YOURS, LOOKS LIKE IT HAS A VERY COMFORTABLE HANDLE.

"I'm dead then?" Harry asked the chap in the dark robes and menacing scythe.

NO, the figure replied. YOU ARE NOT DEAD.

"Angry about the fact that people think I'm you?" Harry said after a moment of thought, "I am sorry about that. Things just have a way of spiralling out of control whenever I'm around. People take the most innocent comments and . . . well, you get the picture."

I AM NOT ANGRY, the dark figure replied. IN FACT, I FOUND THE WHOLE THING TO BE QUITE DROLL.

"Well good then," Harry said slowly. "Then may I ask why I'm here?"

I NEEDED TO TELL YOU SOMETHING, the figure replied.

"Oh?"

YES, the figure agreed. BELIEF IS A POWERFUL THING, PERHAPS THE MOST POWERFUL FORCE IN THE WORLD.

"Really?" Harry said in interest, "Dumbledore's always maintained that the most powerful force was Love."

THEY CAN BE RELATED," the figure allowed. MANY PEOPLE BELIEVE THAT MR. BLACK IS A PHYSICAL EMBODIMENT OF DEATH, SO MUCH BELIEF FOCUSED ON ONE THING IS BOUND TO HAVE AN EFFECT.

"Damn," Harry lamented. "As if my life wasn't complicated enough."

YOU WONDERED HY I BROUGHT YOU HERE? YOU WISHED TO KNOW WHY I CHOSE TO SPEAK WITH YOU?" Death seemed amused by the whole conversation, IT WAS TO WELCOME YOU TO THE UNION. MEETINGS ARE HERE EVERY CENTURY OR TWO. AND I WOULD ALSO LIKE TO WISH YOU WELL.

SQUEAK, a small rat in a grim robe agreed.

"So what exactly do I have to do?" Harry asked with a sigh.

JUST CONTINUE AS YOU ARE," Death replied. "ONE OF US MAY ASK YOU TO FILL IN IF WE NEED TO TAKE SOME TIME OFF BUT OTHER THAN THAT, YOUR TIME IS YOUR OWN.

oo o0o oo

MR BLACK? a voice called.

Harry turned around.

"Oh, it's you. What can I do for you?"

I WAS HOPING YOU COULD TAKE OVER FOR A FEW DAYS, Death explained, MY GRANDDAUGHTER DISLIKES DOING SO AND I FEEL GREATLY IN NEED OF A VACATION.

"I know the feeling," Harry agreed, "no problem. Just let me let Henchgirl know."

Harry quickly scribbled a note which he left stuck to the door of Henchgirl's lab.

Dear Henchgirl,

Am substituting for Death as he wants a vacation. Will be back in a few days.

Mr Black.

"Okay," Harry said, "let's go."

-

Harry found himself wandering around Ankh Morpork. It was a fascinating city, even if it did look a bit dangerous.

"Look at that," Harry noted in amazement, "shrunken human heads. For creepiness that beats the human fingers in Knockturn hands down." He kept commenting on all the interesting things he saw, " … a trunk with hundreds of legs, a hell hound, a sentient book of boundless evil …blood?" harry noted in confusion.

"Freshest in all Ankh Morpork," the shifty looking seller agreed cheerfully, "without getting it yourself, that is. But it saves you the trouble of avoiding the Watch."

"Right," Harry nodded slowly, "what kind of blood is it?" he asked, staring at all the small bottles in the cart.

"Welllll…" the seller began, "we've got several varieties of standard human blood, werewolf blood, vampire blood, swamp dragon blood, although that one's kind of an acquired taste if you know what I mean, wizard blood, bogeyman blood, banshee blood…"

The seller continued to list off various species of beings and creatures while Harry listened in shock.

"And for the special customer," the seller lowered their voice and glanced around nervously, "I've got…"

He pulled out a small bottle of green-blue liquid that glowed faintly.

"Lords and Ladies blood," he whispered, "from the Fair Folk themselves." He pulled the bottle out of sight again, "most expensive stuff I've got."

"I'll take it," Harry decided. Maybe it was curiosity or his vampire side, but he wanted it.

Money changed hands and Harry continued on his way.

Pretty soon he glanced at his watch,

"Whoops, better get going."

He pulled out a small horse figurine which became a translucent stallion, and rode off into the… well, about mid-afternoon, actually, but that just doesn't have the same ring as 'rode off into the night'…

-

Further around the Disc and across the Chalk, Tiffany Aching's eyes were narrowed in concentration, their determined focus resting on a point above the young woman's shoulder.

Taking the pain was… hard, especially in a case like this, and just as dangerous, but Tiffany had both the concentration and the sheer will to do it. Tiffany's will was a fearsome thing. She didn't realise it but when she narrowed her eyes like she was doing now she was even more intimidating than Granny Weatherwax.

Which was saying something.

The woman's hands flailed reflexively as another set of convulsions wracked her, something had clearly gone wrong. It didn't look good for her or the baby. Tiffany gritted her teeth.

"Hey," a voice greeted. Tiffany looked around to see a figure in a dark robe with black hair and a strangely blurred face, holding a scythe.

"I've met Death before, and you're not him," Tiffany moved away and spoke quietly so her patient couldn't hear.

"Well not exactly," Harry agreed, he's on vacation, so I'm filling in."

He looked around and saw the woman in the middle of labour.

"That looks really painful," Harry was horrified, "oh my god – how does its head fit through like that… I think I'm gonna…"

As Tiffany watched Death's substitute paled and swayed a bit.

"Right," Harry fought for control of himself, he'd seen men die horrific deaths, childbirth held no horrors for him – right? "I'm here for the kid."

Tiffany stood her ground,

"No you're not."

"Yeah I am, that's how it works," Harry pointed out, looking at her oddly.

"I challenge you," Tiffany told him. "If you win you can have both myself and the child but if I win, you leave empty-handed."

"Fair enough," Harry agreed, "how do you want to do this?"

Half an hour later (subjectively, at least) they were both immersed in a game of Scrabble.

"Is pernicious really a word?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Yes," Tiffany said flatly.

"Okay, xenophilia!" Harry said triumphantly, no one who spent nine months every year in Hermione's company could have a limited vocabulary. "I win."

As he approached the pregnant woman, she reached for Tiffany, unable to see Harry.

"Mistress Aching, please, just save my baby!" she sobbed, she knew things were going wrong, "I don't care about me just save my baby!"

Harry stopped dead, staring down. Then he turned and walked towards the doorway.

"I entered a Latin word," he said over his shoulder, "other languages aren't allowed so you win, no on here dies tonight."

There was the sound of galloping hooves outside the cottage and then silence.

Tiffany delivered the baby without any further problems and handed it to the exhausted mother.

"She's beautiful," her mother said lovingly, brushing strands of sweaty red hair out of her eyes to get a better look at her baby.

oo o0o oo

Harry was feeling a bit guilty about letting the baby live like that, oh well, hopefully Death wouldn't' be too cross. He headed to his next destination, just in time to hear a shout of "oi!" from a really stupid student who was drunk enough to think this was a good idea, "you're a big dumb monkey and you smell like bananas! I hate bananas! I bet you have fleas, you big ball of orange hair!"

The Librarian's eyes narrowed. Right then and there, Harry learned why it is not a good idea to insult a 300 pound orangutan.

"The only virtue of the stupid is they don't last long," Harry muttered among the screams, "you've gotta admit there's truth in that."

A while later Harry left feeling rather impressed and newly respectful towards his ape 'cousins' in general.

"And I'm going to take better care of my books in future," he resolved, before he'd left he'd stuck around long enough to see the Librarian's reaction to a book returned with a bent cover. "I've never seen fingers bend in that direction before."

He consulted his watch,

"oh good, I've got a break before the next one."

-

Halfway to the post office (he'd heard the Postmaster General traditionally wore a golden suit and a hat with wings on it) Harry realised he was being followed, he paused and a distinctive smell met his nostrils.

He turned to stare into the shadows,

"hi," he greeted the crouching shape. The werewolf just sniffed in confusion, what kind of creature didn't have a scent?

"Are you following me for a reason," Harry wanted to know, "or are you just curious?"

The werewolf glared at him and nudged him until he turned around.

"I was curious," a female voice said, "I haven't seen you around before and I wanted to check you weren't going to cause any trouble. Don't turn around."

"Someone else in the union wanted a vacation, so I'm filling in for them," Harry explained. "Why can't I turn around?"

"Because when I change into wolf form I lose all my clothes," the voice sounded mildly embarrassed.

"Oh." Harry tried not to visualise it, "well I don't intent to cause any trouble, can I go now?"

"If you're not planning any trouble, sure." A moment later a grey wolf gave a wolfish grin before running off down the alley leaving Harry by himself.

-

After an evening of reaping souls, Harry was ready to call it a day.

"Guess I'll have to find a room somewhere," Harry yawned, hopefully it wouldn't have fleas or cutthroat thieves coming to rob him in the night.

SQUEAK.

He looked down to see the little robed rat skeleton.

"Do you know where I can stay?" he inquired. The Grim Squeaker twitched his bony nose and nodded.

SQUEAK?

"Sure, just tell Mortis where to go," Harry agreed.

Death's residence was … strange, but Harry was used to wizards so he shrugged it off easily.

"Who are you?" an old man in the kitchen demanded.

"I'm Mr Black," Harry replied, "Death of Rats said I could borrow a spare room."

The old man muttered to himself,

"another sodding apprentice, the master never learns, it was bad enough the first time…"

"Oh I'm not an apprentice," with his supernatural hearing Harry had heard every word, "I'm a member of the union so Death asked me if I could take over for a bit while he was on vacation. Said his granddaughter gets annoyed when he asks her to substitute for him." Harry shrugged, "I guess it's one of those personality based careers, either you're suited to it or you aren't."

Harry found a guest room he liked and after a quick bath (he scourgified the tub and had to transfigure a towel, for some reason all the ones in the bathroom were fakes) he fell into bed for a long sleep.

oo o0o oo

"Henchgirl!" the Professor hollered. "Have you seen Mr Black?"

"Death is on vacation so Mr Black is substituting for him," Henchgirl called back in annoyance, "he'll be back in a few days."

"How can that be possible?" the Professor demanded.

"I don't know, we can ask Mr Black when he gets back," Henchgirl replied, "now leave me alone so I can work on modifying this Wolfsbane."

oo o0o oo

Harry woke to find the Death of Rats bouncing on the pillow next to his.

"Morning," he greeted.

He stumbled off to have a bath, he had to scourgify the tub again and he didn't even go near the soap, it was a yellow sliver caked in grime. Harry made a mental note to bring some decent soap next time, maybe something floral, or perhaps more masculine like sandalwood.

He'd leave a case of it in the bathroom too, whomever the soap belonged to needed a hint.

As he wandered into the kitchen the odour of frying porridge met his nose… Harry decided to have breakfast somewhere else.

One stop at a Klatchian kitchen later, Harry glanced at the Death of Rats where he was clinging to Mortis' mane,

"So where did you say you wanted to be dropped off?"

SQUEAK SQUEAK, the Death of Rats gave directions.

"Mind if I join you? I don't have any appointments until ten, and it'd be nice to watch a professional at work."

SQUEAK the Death of Rats agreed.

-

Harry followed him into a classroom, heading straight for the small cage at the back of the room.

The hamster's little black eyes gazed in terror, he knew exactly what was in front of him.

Harry watched with professional interest as the Grim Squeaker demonstrated his reaping technique.

"How dare you come into my classroom?" a wrathful voice demanded. Harry turned to take in the stern expression, the white-blonde-and-black hair pulled into a severe bun, and the black old-fashioned governess-like clothing… she was kind of like a goth Mary Poppins.

Her eyes narrowed further as she got a better look at Harry and saw that underneath the cloak and robe he wasn't who she expected.

"I would have thought Grandfather learned his lesson the first time," she said coldly, "having a mortal perform his job is never a good idea."

"Yeah, that's why he asked me to fill in," Harry agreed, "I'm Mr Black."

"Susan Ston Helit," Death's granddaughter replied, "if you're not mortal, than what are you?"

Harry scratched his head as he thought about that one,

"a part-werewolf, part-vampire wizard who's become an anthropomorphic personification of Death through some kind of enormous cosmic joke?" he tried. "Usually I just say 'Mr Black' and people are like 'oh, him' …except it's more like 'oh god no not Mr Black!' multiple exclamation marks. Anyway, your grandfather wanted a vacation, and since I'm part of the union I'm filling in."

"There's a union?" Susan repeated dully.

"Yeah," Harry turned to the Grim Squeaker, "I forgot to ask, does it have an actual name?"

The Death of Rats shrugged.

SQUEAK *twitch nose* SQUEAK.

"Interdimensional Dread Reapers and Manifestations of Death Union," Harry translated, "isn't that kind of a mouthful?"

The Death of Rats shrugged again.

Harry turned back to Susan, who was giving him an uncomfortably piercing stare,

"Anyway, we'd better get going," he told her cheerfully. "Nice to meet you."

"Yes," Susan said slowly, "It was nice to meet you too."

She was giving him the strangest look. Why did he always get the strangest looks? Harry inwardly lamented.

He whistled and Mortis trotted into the room, a moment later he and the Death of Rats galloped off on Mortis back.

"What are you sniggering at?" Harry demanded.

SQUEAK, the Grim Squeaker explained.

"She did not fancy me!" Harry exclaimed.

The Death of Rats sniggered again,

SNH, SNH, SNH.

"Oh, shut up," Harry grumbled.

-

He dropped the Death of Rats off at his next destination and continued onwards to a large palace.

Harry walked through a doorway... just as the enraged vampire flung itself at the man opposite, unfortunately Harry had walked in between the two. Harry was too surprised to move and the vampire's fangs sunk into his neck instead... the vampire didn't have very long to feel confused about this however as a moment later it was in convulsions on the floor – before bursting into flames.

"Oops," Harry stared down at the pile of ash on the floor, "I don't think that was supposed to happen." He looked around, there was a man with a goatee staring at him, looking very mildly nonplussed. "Oh well, someone here died, right? I met the quota, that's what counts." He nodded to himself, then wandered out again to whee Mortis was waiting.

Just as he reached the stallion however Harry experienced the sudden sensation of being pulled violently backwards through a straw filled with a vortex, before being spat out again.

"Aaurrgh," Harry groaned, "that was worse than Apparition and Portkeys combined."

He looked around to find himself in a large hall, surrounded by a pentacle. Beyond the pentacle were a bunch of somewhat nervous-looking people Harry instantly identified as wizards from the ridiculous robes, long beards and general air of a complete lack of sense.

"Is that, you know, him?" someone asked nervously. "I thought he looked, you know... thinner."

"He's got a scythe, hasn't he?" demanded someone made of sterner stuff, "besides, the Rite of AshkEnte summons Death, a ritual to summon Death wouldn't be much use if it summoned someone else, would it?"

There was some doubtful nodding at this, it made sense after all, but some of the other wizards couldn't help but feel that maybe things weren't as simple as all that.

Harry glared at them.

"You brought me here?" he demanded. Most of the wizards stepped backwards.

"That's right, old chap," said the robust wizard cheerfully, scared not at all, "we've got a bit of a problem here at the moment, and hope you might be willing to help us out."

Harry sighed, but nodded.

The wizards took him upstairs to an area where ancient sigils chalked into the stone and candles lit with sinister red flames guarded… nothing.

"The little bugger's got out again," swore the wizard Harry had mentally dubbed Robust and Portly, "what kind of hellish beast can get past protections like these?"

"Er, Archchancellor, the Dean stumbled into the circle… and he's trapped there."

"What?" Robust and Portly turned around, "well get him out of there, man! Can't have the Dean trapped in a magic circle."

Harry cleared his throat loudly.

"What. Do. You. Want. Me. To. Do?" he said through clenched teeth.

It was at this moment a ragged blur shot forward and buried its fangs in the leg of the wizard with the glasses.

Glasses Boy let out a pained howl and danced around wildly, trying to shake off the bundle of decomposing fur and skin and bones.

"Someone do something!"

"Like what? I don't want it after me."

"Well there's got to be something vaguely helpful and non-confrontational we can do."

"Hold still!" Robust and Portly hollered, aiming at Glasses Boy, which only seemed to agitate him more judging by the way he was protesting between the yells of pain.

Harry rolled his eyes, and with a quick slash of his scythe the undead cat was, at last, truly dead.

Glasses Boy stared in horror between the dead cat and his ravaged leg.

"That thing's probably got all kinds of diseases!"

Harry whistled for Mortis and got out of there before the wizards could come up with something else for him to do.

oo o0o oo

Harry stalked into the pub grumpily, minus the scythe. He'd kind of enjoyed yesterday, but today had been a nightmare.

"Whiskey," he said to the barman, who looked like he'd escaped from a 1930s horror movie.

He was just about to settle down and enjoy it when a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

"Wot's a tosser like you doing in 'ere?" sneered the… well, thing. "Y'think y'gonna just walk in 'ere like 'ooh, I'm all dark an' mysterious, I'm gonna go 'ang out in Biers like I'm real scary-like' did yeh? Well listen mate, we don't take kindly to your lot comin' in and…"

The being found a very sharp blade pressed against its throat,

"Listen," Harry hissed, not quite speaking in Parseltongue but close, his fangs protruding, "I've had a very bad day. First I had the skeleton of a rat laugh at me. Then I accidentally caused the death of the wrong person, before I was kidnapped by a bunch of idiot wizards. Then as though that wasn't enough I spent an hour and a half chasing a fleeing soul all around Ankh Morpork, never mind that he was dead and there wasn't actually anywhere for him to go except wherever the dead go when I reap their souls. So. The last thing I need is some idiot swaggering whatever-you-are trying to make trouble because I don't look weird enough. Do I make myself clear?"

The being nodded very fast, whimpering, and took off the moment Harry moved the scythe.

Harry turned back to his whiskey, never noticing who he'd sat down next to earlier.

Susan looked at him.

"It sounds as though you've had quite a day," she said.

Harry looked around, relaxing slightly as he saw who it was.

"You could say that."

oo o0o oo

Henchgirl was eating breakfast when Harry stalked in.

"Mr Black!" she greeted. "How was it being Death for several days?"

Harry just sighed.

"I had souls who didn't know they were dead, souls that ran away so I had to chase them down… strange creatures of the night trying to pick fights with me, stupid wizards kidnapping me over zombie cats… I had to stay with a grumpy old man who always left the bath tub filthy, I accidentally killed someone who wasn't supposed to die, I fell in a disgusting river, and some Watchman tried to arrest me for loitering or something… actually, it was pretty great," Harry admitted, "really interesting. Here," he pulled out the bottle of blood from one of the Lords and Ladies. "You might like to analyse it. The guy who sold it to me said it was Fair Folk blood."

"Okay," Henchgirl agreed, she finished breakfast and rushed away to analyse it… then called Harry in.

"This is amazing!" she said excitedly, the Doctor nodding in agreement, "it's clearly extraterrestrial, the chromosomes are completely unfamiliar and the DNA strands themselves seem to produce teleromase by themselves, I've never seen anything like it."

"Teleromase?" Harry was lost.

"Caps the end of DNA like the plastic things on the end of shoelaces," the Doctor explained. "But every time DNA is replicated the plastic things get a bit more tattered, sooner or later they fall off and then the shoelaces are damaged."

"Exactly!" Henchgirl exclaimed, "but it's as though this blood has its own teleromase fairy!"

"…uh-huh," Harry nodded slowly.

"We were wondering if you'd agree to drink some," the Doctor said, "it shouldn't do you any harm, and as a part-vampire it might affect your physiology in ways that are beneficial."

"Why not," Harry shrugged and downed some… a few minutes later the world was suddenly underlaid with faint silver lines that, he realised, he could use to navigate.

"Wow," he marvelled.

"Yeah," Henchgirl agreed, "your ears have gone all pointy."

Harry sighed. It figured.

END