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    Summary

    “I…” They paused for a moment, ignoring Harry’s somewhat hysterical and rapidly sharpening gaze. “Am who comes for the wicked, just as I come for the kind. I am what is impersonal, indiscriminate, inevitable.”

    You are a dramatic nutjob, Harry thought, grip tightening on his wand. And I'm about to launch you out of the fucking window.

    Or, in other words, Harry is the ""Master"" of Death and he's not super into it. He's making electronics go on the fritz, people keep getting scared of him because he doesn't make any footsteps, he floats at inopportune times, some kid named Danny is very freaked out by him, and all and all, it's an Experience. Capital E warranted.
    But hey, Fred’s alive. So. Not a total bust, he guesses.

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