This is my answer to the fanfiction subreddit's prompt to writing a story using the words: brimstone, odd, and bulldozer.

Quote of the Day:

"Oh Doctor, I was in a wonderful place filled with fire and brimstone and there were all guys in red pyjamas sticking pitchforks in my butt!"

-Homer Simpson, The Simpsons

It was strange how his day eventually turned out, considering that apparently his new life began during his battle against the dark wizard Voldemort. Still confused as to what was going on as he stood in line in the middle of a white room he had no recollection of going to, Harry couldn't help but rub the back of his neck in confusion. One minute he was battling the dark lord who threatened by the fate of every world known to wizard and muggle alike, and the next he was standing in line behind an overweight sweaty man who had just been called up to the front desk of this pearl white room to deal with a receptionist who really seemed to hate her job. Looking around the room, Harry was shocked to see that Voldemort himself was standing in line with him, though the dark wizard didn't seem to take notice of him yet. Voldemort was standing in line quite a ways behind him, and it seemed that the evil wizard was too preoccupied with a talkative shrill sounding woman standing with him to notice anything else. There was no explanation that Harry could come up with to explain why they were there right now.

"Harold Potter?" the receptionist called out his name, the overweight man who had gone before him just moments ago apparently nowhere to be found.

Figuring that he would get no answers from anywhere else, Harry slowly approached the receptionist's desk before him. Just like everything else in this room, the receptionist's desk was white marble, equipped with a white computer, had a name plate sitting on the desk reading only 'receptionist' written in white font, and said receptionist waiting for him with a bored expression on her face. As he glanced at her, Harry couldn't help but think that the receptionist actually looked quite stylish while wearing a white pantsuit and white framed glasses.

"Harry," Harry corrected as he approached the woman behind the white desk.

The receptionist only rolled her eyes, not really caring by what name this newest client preferred to go by. "Alright, Harry, you have officially been assigned to construction," the woman in the white suit paused as she eyed him up and down, not impressed with his physique and figuring that he would be back for reassignment within a few days, "you're going to be reporting to Bill. He's your supervisor."

Glancing around as if to make sure that no one was listening, Harry then leaned forward and whispered to the lady who was apparently supposed to acclimate him to this new environment. "Look, I have no idea what's going on right now. Supervisor for what? Where am I?"

The receptionist groaned, apparently having to deal with situations like Harry's more than she would like to. "Did no one give you the rundown of what happened? This is Hell, Kid. Abandon all hope, and all that jazz."

Patting around his body to make sure he was still alive, Harry was adamant that this had to be some kind of mistake. "Hell? But I'm not dead!"

"And how would you know what being dead feels like?" the receptionist in white rolled her eyes again as she began to type on her computer to look something up, "Apparently, you and a guy named Tom Riddle killed each other in a magic duel."

She said it in a way that revealed that she was still unimpressed with him despite having died in a magic duel, and Harry couldn't help but be annoyed when the receptionist looked back up at him, her boredom as evident as always. In his opinion, if he had to pick a way to die, then magic duel was the way to go! If she wasn't impressed by that, he didn't know what would do it.

"Well, even if that's true," Harry tried to reason, Hell not really seeming justified for someone who gave their life saving the world, "I like to think that I'm a good person. Why am I here?"

Looking back at the report on her computer screen, the receptionist pushed her glasses back up the ridge of her nose and began to explain the nature of his damnation, "It says here that you practiced witchcraft? The Bible does say not to do that."

"But-," Harry began to argue before being cut off by the receptionist.

"Look, I'm just telling you what your file says. Go report to Bill."

Before he could argue any further, Harry disappeared in a puff of smoke. No longer was he standing in a pearl white room talking a receptionist donned in ivory, but instead he found himself at what appeared to be a typical construction site, only with the area surrounding them to be on fire. For a reason he couldn't quite pin down, this is what he thought that New Jersey must have looked like, damned souls and all.

When he felt a tap on his shoulder however, Harry turned around to find that his attention was now turned to the demon he could only assume was Bill. Harry didn't know what he expected, but he knew that it definitely wasn't the short, plump, and balding demon who was standing before him, donning the typical garb one would expect of a construction foreman. Despite his apparent damnation, Harry couldn't help but be skeptical of the evil spirit who was supposed to be his new supervisor.

"You're Bill?" Harry asked, having always pictured demons to be giant great beasts, instead of someone who looked more like George Costanza than Beelzebub.

Noting Harry's skepticism, Bill jammed his index finger into Harry's chest. "Not all of us get to be Demon Lords like my brother Baphomet. Some people have to keep Hell running."

"And what exactly is it that you do?"

"I do construction. It's kind of a pain in the ass down here, but that's kind of the point of Hell."

"But-," Harry began, before being interrupted once again.

"I know it's a bit odd, Harry, but you'll get used to it."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck like he had earlier. "I don't know a thing about construction."

Bill only shrugged. "The only building material we use down here is brimstone. You're a wizard, Harry. With your magic abilities, this job will be a cinch."

Crossing his arms, Harry was still adamant that regardless of the fact that he practiced magic, he didn't deserve to be here. He was a good person who died saving the world! "What if I refuse? I don't deserve to be here!"

Once more, Bill shrugged, having heard every excuse in the book. "Think of it like a work-release program, only with no release."

Harry's arms remained crossed. "I'm not doing this."

This time, it was Bill who rubbed the back of his neck. He had seen someone before who refused their assigned position in Hell, and the result wasn't pretty. "Well, it's either you help me with construction jobs around Hell when we need it, or Roy shoves pineapples up your ass for the rest of all time."

Without any more protest, Harry darted off in a random direction to get straight to work, and Bill smiled, knowing that nothing was going to be shoved up the ass of Harry Potter tonight.

"I'll get the bulldozer!" Harry shouted over his shoulder, his asshole safe for eternity.

This was fun to write. Full disclosure though. I have never read or watched any of the Harry Potter books/movies.