Chapter Text
"What is your name?"
"Harry James Potter. You won't find what you're looking for."
"Okay...Who do you work for?"
"Fate and Death."
~
Harry surveyed the city below him. Cars bustled and honked, occasionally bumping into one another. Police sirens rang out in the distance and laughter from the party filled the night air.
Sucking on a slightly elongated tooth, he fingered the trigger of his beloved sniper. He honestly wasn't sure what kind it was, but he nicked it off a guy with a metal arm who looked way too seriously at his target.
Tonight, a few people would mysteriously go missing and Shield would be on his tail for the next few days.
...Perhaps he'd get himself caught. It would certainly be interesting, and Hela would be happy with that. Really, that's what his whole job was. Kill whoever Death said to kill and try to make it interesting because the deity (and himself) was bored. He's only been around for...five thousand years, give or take. But he jumps universes from time to time and each one tells time a bit differently, so as for how old he is he honestly can't tell you.
And as for how Harry became an assassin, well that's a fun story.
See, it all began when Death chose him after uniting the Hallows. Without his knowledge, of course. He never aged past twenty, three years after he held them in his grasp for the first time. Three years for three items.
He never got back together with Ginny and he was fine with that. It was kind of weird, dating his best friend's sister. Who looked a lot like his mom, so yeah. No.
Oddly enough, a century passes and he didn't realise until he stepped out of the Potter Library. Nobody told him! Or tried to find him! Not even his friends! Who were most assuredly dead now.
And then Death visited with a "Congratulations, you're my master. Here's a list of people Fate needs off this side of the Veil, have fun!" and left.
And that was that. Harry had seen enough death beforehand to become somewhat emotionless to it, but he draws the line at killing children and their parents. Fate could bitch all they want but there was no way. Unless those parents suck. Then he has no qualms whatsoever. It was actually quite a lot of fun hunting someone down.
So now here he was, waiting for the moment to strike.
But before he could take the shot, there was a loud BANG! and people started screaming, running out of the building he was watching and crowding the area in front.
And following the chaos was a—
What. Is. Loki. Doing? Here?
Well, my problems suddenly got more complicated, Harry thought, frustrated. He huffed and picked up his gun, unloading it and strapping it to his back. "Oh, here come the Avengers in their big fancy plane. A little late to the party, but as long as the job gets done nobody cares, right?" He growled to himself. He jumped off the edge, sliding down the glass windows like a surfboard with his cloak fluttering about behind him. He landed softly on the ground with a muffled thump, pulled his hood over his head and disappeared from view.