Two for One

Chapter 2: The Wizarding Wow Lotto

Death, Harry has discovered, is kind of an asshole.

The strange being is currently standing behind the Aurors who are trying to threaten Harry into revealing how he came to be in this universe. Harry is chained to a chair with bad-Auror spitting out accusations into his face and good-Auror pretending to try and pull them back.

"I keep telling you, I don't know," Harry tells them, shifting on the uncomfortable metal chair and turning his wrists in the cuffs holding him to the table.

The Sneakoscope near the edge of the table is stationary and silent, because Harry is telling the truth. He has no idea what happened in between his final choice at King's Cross and arriving randomly in the Ministry.

Right into the interrogation cell he's sitting in, actually. Completely naked.

Thankfully, the Aurors scrambled to find him some clothes first, and Harry is now clad in a loose shirt, pants and robe. Everything else they just conjured for him.

"I find that highly unlikely," one of the Aurors snaps out.

Death tilts what vaguely passes for a head and from under the hood of its robe it opens gaping maws of bone, flaking flesh and dried blood. The ghastly mouth forms words even as skin peels and drops off.

"Do you wish him dead, Master?" Death rasps, near enough to a hiss that Harry isn't sure if it's speaking in Parseltongue.

Before Harry can answer, the interrogation room's door slams open and a cloaked figure strides inside, slaps a folded piece of paper into the Auror's chest and moves around the table to start unlocking Harry's handcuffs.

The Auror splutters, barely managing to catch the note before it falls to the floor, and starts trying to read the ridiculously convoluted and hard to decipher instructions by the Head of the Unspeakables. The other Auror tries to read over their partner's shoulder but gives up.

Meanwhile, Harry would actually prefer to stay with the Aurors but is yanked up by a strong grip on his upper arm and forcefully marched out of the room and into the hallway.

Death waves goodbye.

Harry ducks a flock of paper crane-notes and weaves around teetering piles of paperwork carried by frazzled-looking wizards and witches who are so done with paperwork that can't be charmed.

The sound of a rowdy and overworked Ministry is cut off when the Unspeakable taps a blank wall with their wand and then calmly shoves Harry through. He stumbles, only held up by the grip on his arm, and blinks at the ominous hallway that stretches out before him.

"Um," Harry tries.

The Unspeakable just keeps walking. They pass through three more blank walls, one door, two windows and half a potted plant.

"Okay, now you're messing with me," Harry snaps when they stop in front of a drunk who seems to have passed out in the corner, a few empty bottles scattered around him.

The Unspeakable just drags Harry forward into the drunk and they plummet for what feels like minutes. An Arresto Momentum catches them and they lightly drop to the ground. Harry looks around at a large and suspiciously blank office. Only a table and two chairs, one already occupied with another cloaked figure.

"Welcome," a rasping voice hisses. A couple coughs come, and then, "Fuck, my throat."

"Want me to get you a drink?" Harry's first Unspeakable offers.

"Yeah, thanks mate," the new one sighs. "Merlin, shouldn't have come in today. I even have a note from my medi-wizard, but no, we have a traveller."

The first Unspeakable nods and leaves the room. Through the ceiling.

"Have a seat," the Unspeakable offers, gesturing vaguely at the chair. "Don't worry if it gropes you."

Harry pauses, half lowered, and simply decides to stand. "Look, it wasn't actually a decision I had a choice in-"

"Don't care," the Unspeakable deadpans, leaning forward and lacing their hands on the table. "What are the numbers for the Wizarding Wow Lotto?"

"...What?"

The Unspeakable sighs long-sufferingly. "I get like three of you a year and no one ever knows the numbers."

"Maybe they just don't want to tell you," Harry offers in annoyance. "I mean you did make them do that ridiculous obstacle course."

"You didn't think it was fun?" the Unspeakable asks, a wobble to their voice. "I- I think it's fun."

Harry quickly backtracks, holding up his hands as if to physically stop any possible tears. "No, no, it was awesome. I simply wasn't expecting it, and I like just died, so I'm kind of having a bad day."

"It's okay," the Unspeakable says. "I get it, you must be pretty tired. Have a seat," they offer.

Harry sits before he remembers the groping part and immediately jumps up when something tries to touch his no-no area.

The Unspeakable snickers.

"That is a damn sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to happen," Harry snaps, jabbing a finger at the chair.

The cloaked figure shrugs. "Dave got stuck inside and that's the only joy he gets. I mean we're working on getting him out, but in the meantime, he's slowly starving to death."

Harry slides a glance sideways and Death abruptly materialises, nods, and disappears. Harry frowns and hesitantly reaches down to pet the seat. "Sorry, Dave," he murmurs.

"So anyway," the Unspeakable begins. "Here are some rules." They reach under the desk and then drop a book on the table, the text thick enough to kill someone with. Another much smaller folder is placed on top. "We also have identities premade, so no, you can't be Mr. Hoe McFucker."

"Has anyone asked for that name?" Harry wonders, reaching forward and flipping open the folder.

"You'd be surprised," the Unspeakable admits.