Author's note: Whenever something diverges from or contradicts canon 'a wizard did it'.

Chapter one

Theodore Nott was bored. More so than usual. Classes at Hogwarts rarely managed to capture his interest, and Care of Magical Creatures was no exception. He sat with his arms crossed over his chest on the wooden bench surrounded by his fellow classmates, watching Hagrid struggling to subdue a giant centipede.

Some were taking notes, but most were trying to keep warm by wrapping themselves in their black robes while they waited for Hagrid's presentation to end so they could get around to the practical portion of the class.

A chill wind sent coloured autumn leaves flying all around, a sight infinitely more interesting than the class as far as Theodore was concerned. At the corner of his eye he caught something dark dropping from the sky. He followed it with his eyes, but couldn't quite tell what it was. It was rather small, and at the mercy of the chill autumn wind. It landed on the leaf-covered lawn some distance away, but before he had a chance to look at it further a surprised and pained yelp from the teacher had him turning his head back. "Blimey! It got me!" Hagrid cried as the giant centipede curled around his hand like a constrictor snake. In a desperate attempt to get a better grip at it before the situation really got out of control, he foolishly removed his protective dragon leather mitten and tried to remove it, only to have the thing lash out at his hand and sink its large fangs into the skin between his thumb and index finger.

"Mugglefucker!" Now, thoroughly enraged and in great pain, the half-giant had had enough and grabbed a hold of the centipede, ripping the thing in two. The spontaneous laughter that had erupted amongst the majority of the Slytherins quickly turned into shrieks of disgust as the two halves landed on the grass and coiled up before both halves were quickly stomped into the ground by Hagrid as he hissed in pain and clutched his hand.

"It burns!" Hagrid cried, his faced twisted in agony as Hermione hurried over and tried to examine it. "Try urinating on it!" Blaise suggested from his seated position next to Theodore, causing even more chuckling from the bystanders. Even a few Gryiffindors had to cover their nervous chuckling at the bizarre scene. Hagrid shot him a furious look, but Hermione didn't let go of his hand as she gave it a quick look-over. "That'll only makes matters worse. We've got to get you to Madame Pomfrey!" the bushy-haired Gryffindor exclaimed, being familiar with how the giant centipede toxin worked. "Class dismissed! Nothing to see here!" Hagrid barked at the students. "Come on, it'll only get worse the more time we waste!" Hermione urged, tugging on the half-giant professor's coat. "It burns!" Hagrid cried, his face twisted in agony, as he let himself be escort him to the castle. Potter & Weasley quickly followed suit and tried to comfort the caretaker.

Theodore shook his head and didn't bother to hide the smile as he watched the three figures hurriedly making their way back to the castle. "What a fucking retard," Blaise chuckled, shaking his head. "If he didn't have Dumbledore helping him out and covering his fat arse, he'd be forced to look for work as a sideshow attraction."

"You coming or what?" Draco asked, turning his head to look at Theodore. "You go ahead, I'll catch up with you at dinner," Theodore excused himself, slinging his bookbag over his shoulder. No one wasted any time asking why as they were all too happy to get back inside after sitting still in the chill wind for so long.

Theodore waited till the others were some distance away before he started walking in the direction he had seen the object land.

It was an ordinary black leatherbound notebook. He leaned down and picked it up from the grass where it had landed. The cover was soft and well-worn, with 'DEATH NOTE' embossed on the front. 'Death Note'? The title brought to mind the Grim Reaper's book, where he would write the name of those fated to die. Weird. Flicking quickly through the pages revealed that they were all blank, with the exception of the inside covers, which proved to be full of scribbled text in white ink on the black paper. Curiouser and curiouser.

He put the book in his bookbag. There'd be time to investigate it later. At the moment the cold was starting to get to him.

Later that night he sat in the Common Room, having forgotten about the book as he tapped his fountain pent against the table, waiting for Draco to make his next move. Wizard Chess was not something he had much of an interest in, but it was a welcomed break from the nauseatingly boring homework they had to get through. Theodore had never been one to put a lot of effort into his homework. Though he was very bright, he had never felt any need to show off or impress his peers or teachers. He supposed others were correct when they said he was intellectually lazy. The truth was that he had never felt the need to put much effort into his schoolwork beyond what was required. As the heir to an ancient and affluent family of the 'Sacred Twenty-Eight', he would never have to exert himself. The Nott name was a door-opener in the magical world and his family's riches and the debts they could collect from others made sure their position could not be threatened.

Unlike someone like Granger, who always felt the need to compensate from the humble mudblood origins, the magical world was all too ready to bow to his wishes. He had already been approached by people and companies eager to get in the Nott family's heir apparent good graces. With his father locked up in Azkaban he was the de facto patriarch of the ancient family – the last in a long line of witches and wizards.

Draco finally made his move, only to let out a groan as he realised he had made a blunder. "A Knut for your thoughts?" Theodore queried, a concerned look on his face. Draco met his gaze, only to shake his head. "You sure?" Theodore didn't like the way his friend's spirit seemed to be weighed down. It was as if something had choked out all humour from the pale young wizard sitting opposite him. "Family matters," Draco finally relented, slumping back in his chair. Theodore nodded in understanding, as he commanded his rook to take Draco's bishop out of the game.

Like so many other pureblood families, the Malfoys had paid dearly for their loyalty to the power-hungry maniacal self-styled Dark Lord. He remembered how heartbroken Narcissa had been when he visited Draco during the summer vacation. She had been so unlike her usual outgoing self – a pale shadow of the enchanting woman he had seen growing up. He had come to see the Malfoys as a second family growing up – and in fact they were actually closely related. Narcissa and Lucius had always been loving and kind to him when he would visit, either on his own or with his father.

Doubtless Christmas at Malfoy Manor would be less cheery than previous years. One of Draco's white bishop went to town on Theodore's black knights and sent bits and pieces flying, knocking nearby pieces off in the process. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" Theodore looked exasperated at the chessboard after the pawn had successfully massacred his knight and disrupted several other pieces and upset the game. "The game was starting to drag," Draco excused, all too happy to end the game he had only been half-heartedly paying attention to.

Theodore looked at the old grandfather clock nearby and had to agree. It was getting late, and he had yet to determine if his essay was finished or not. He had just completed the bare minimum that was required – as always. Handing in yet another assignment that was the bare bones requirements would be what the teachers had come to expect of him. He suspected they knew he was just going through the motions and had a lot of untapped potential, but they had for the most part stopped pestering him and accepted that he had settled for mediocrity.

He muttered a "Goodnight" back to Draco who got up and headed for the dormitory, as he put his paper into his bookbag. It was then that his fingers touched the curious leatherbound book the had seen falling from the sky earlier that day. He looked around, but except for a few stragglers and a sleeping Crabbe, who was snoring rather loudly on the sofa where he had passed out shortly after they came back from supper, there were no one who would pay him any attention.

He opened the book and read the first line scribbled on the inside of the front cover. 'DEATH NOTE – How to use it – I – The human whose name is written in this note shall die.' He very nearly tossed the book back in his bag in disappointment. Clearly this was some prank from a novelty store, if somewhat morbid for a joke perhaps. 'This note will not take effect unless the writer had the persons face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore people sharing the same name will not be affected.'

Now sourly disappointed with his find, he felt like it had been nothing a waste. If it didn't have those 'rules' scribbled on the inner covers, it might have served as a commonplace book. He considered leaving it somewhere in the Common Room to see if someone else fell for the prank, as he got up and stretched. He was used to being one of the last ones to go to bed, and one of the last ones to get up in the morning, a habit that he could indulge in over the summer vacation, but not so much when he had classes next day.

He found himself starring into the glowing embers on the fireplace, before turning his head to look at the weird old notebook still on the table next to him. He reached for his fountain pen and hurriedly scribbled down the first name that came to mind – a name that had been on his mind constantly over the summer. Before he had the time to second-guess it he had closed the book and put it back in his bookbag, heading for the dormitory, while a snoring Crabbe turned over on his side on the sofa without waking up.

Next day…

"Me neck hurts like a son of a bitch," Crabbe complained next morning as he slumped down alongside his fellow Slytherins. Theodore only rolled his eyes at that comment. Crabbe had managed to wake up just about everyone last night, when he finally woke up on the sofa and come tumbling and fumbling into the pitch black dormitory, searching for his bed – still half asleep. Crabbe's attention was soon arrested by the breakfast however, which Theodore was thankful for. Soon after the owls came flying in with the mail. Theodore rarely paid them any attention. Other than the regular well-wishing cards & letters for his birthday and around Yuletide, he rarely received any letters, and like a lot of his housemates he did not have subscription on the muggle-friendly Daily Prophet, and despite their recent hit-pieces on Potter and his cohorts, he would not support a hackneyed gossip publication that had openly supported mudbloods and muggle-lovers.

"Hey! It says here that Shacklebolt kicked the bucket last night!" Blaise said, reading from a headline in a copy of the Daily Prophet that he had nicked from a second-year student.

Theodore felt a tingle down his spine at the news. He finished his sip, and slowly swallowed the mouthful of tea before he burned himself.

Draco barley managed to hide his gleeful snicker, and nearly choked on his toast. Pansy patted his back to keep him from choking. "Good riddance, I say!" Draco finally managed to get out after a mouthful of water to clear his throat. Theodore sat quietly munching on his toast and listened to the others' reacting to the news with unabashed epicaricacy. "I'm not glad he's dead, but I'm glad he's gone," Daphne chimed in, snatching the paper from Blaise to see if there were any gory details about his death. Kingsley Shacklebolt had been one of the Aurors that had arrested his – and Draco's – father, and it was his name Theodore had hastily scribbled in that notebook – the Death Note – before he went to bed last night. He pursed his lips and listened close to Daphne reading from the brief death notice. Not many details, but there was no way it could be a coincidence… He remembered seeing Shacklebolt's face at the trial and he had felt a rage towards that revolting bloodtraitor that had been responsible for taking away his father. The death was now being investigated as suspicious, but there hadn't been any obvious indication of a crime having been committed.

While his housemates, and other students talked about the death, he excused himself and headed for the bathroom…

Warm, yellow sunlight shone in through the windows and he shielded his eyes, stopping before the mirror to gaze at his own reflection in the mirror. Finally alone he allowed himself to smile at the news, and he had to fight to hold back a gleeful laugh. The only dominant feeling he sensed was relief. Relief that one of the men who had taken away his father had gotten his comeuppance, and that there now seemed to be a way he could make things right again.

His smile was replaced by a grimace of shock, and he recoiled on reflex when he saw a pair of shining eyes in a deathly pale mockery of a human face looking at him in the mirror.