I

DEATHNOTELY HALLOWMESTUCK
Friendship is Wizardry

Chapter One: Harry Receives an Urgent Letter From a Clown

"Hey," said Harry, nudging Ron as McGonagal called out the first-years' names for Sorting. "What's that?" he pointed a finger out towards the ceiling.

"That would be the raging storm outside, Harry," said Ron.

"No, no," said Harry, pointing more forcefully at something. Something plain white, and somewhat long. It stood out against the dark clouds quite clearly, to him at least.

Ron squinted at the thing. After a few seconds, he shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe something got stuck up there. I'm sure it'll be cleaned up soon."

Harry looked up at the thing doubtfully. After a few seconds, it disappeared.

"That's odd..." he muttered, but his thoughts were interrupted as Dumbledore got up from his seat.

As Harry squeezed his third bubotuber, he saw it again. It was much closer now - just outside the greenhouse walls. He squinted at it, trying to get a good look at it - However, in his distraction he squeezed the bubotuber a bit too hard, and was rewarded with a facefull of pus.

"The pus!" he exclaimed. "It buuuuuurns!"

"Oh, sh-" said Professor Sprout, stopping herself just in time. "Somebody get him a towel!"

"The paiiiiin," cried Harry. "Oh god, the pain!"

Seamus Finnigan ran to one of the tables in the greenhouse, grabbed a towel, and handed it to Harry. As he appeared to be in too much pain to to even lift his arm, Ron took the towel from him and wiped the pus off his face.

Ron winced as he revealed the pulsing yellow boils all over Harry's face, who was still screaming in agony.

"Remain calm," said Professor Sprout. "You're going to be alright. Ron, would you take him to the infirmary?"

Ron took Harry's arm and began to lead him back to the castle as Professor Sprout turned to face the rest of the class. "Now class, this is what happens when one gets careless with bubotuber pus. Let's try not to let that happen again, shall we?"

When Harry could finally feel his face again, Madam Pomfrey was looking over him.

"Well, looks like you're all fixed up then," she said. "Off you go!"

Harry lifted his hands to his face, feeling around at it. It was perfectly smooth, as if the warts were never there.

"Thanks you, Madam Pomfrey, he said, before getting up and walking out of the infirmary.

The first thing he saw was the thing, but before he could get a good look at it, Ron grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the Great Hall.

"About time," he said, "I'm starving!"

"And I need to get to the library!" exclaimed Hermione.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Again?! Hermione, it's the first day!"

"Yes, again," she repeated. "You'll see why eventually."

"So you keep saying," Ron muttered as they arrived at the Great Hall.

"Anyways, you missed it," Hermione told Harry as they made their way to the Gryffindor table. "Hagrid is having us care for blast-ended skrewts."

Harry shivered. "Glad I wasn't there, then."

"Well," said Ron, "At least they're small..."

Harry saw the thing again in Professor Trelawney's room. As he sat down next to Ron, it appeared near the fireplace.

Harry squinted at it, but then Professor Trelawney appeared right behind him.

"Good day," she said, making him jump.

Trelawney looked down at him tragically. "You are preoccupied, my dear," she said. Harry zoned out for the rest of her spiel, but he was sure it was something sufficiently grim about his impending doom.

"My dears, it is time for us to consider the stars," she began. However, at that point, Harry jumped from his seat.

"It's an arm!" he exclaimed, pointing at it.

The class turned towards the edge of the fireplace, but within seconds, it was gone. No one had shown any signs of seeing it.

"It... It was right there!" he said. "An arm!"

The class stared at him.

"This must be a sign," said Professor Trelawney, nodding. "Arms appearing at the edge of your vision - it can only mean that you will die very soon. Tell me dear, was it pointing at anything?"

Harry shook his head. "No, no. It was just sort of... Lying there? Except it was floating. And it was pale white-"

"A pale white arm?" asked Professor Trelawney. "White, like bone?"

"Well, yes, but no, it was-"

"Of course," said Trelawney. "It can only be the hand of Death."

Harry sighed. He wasn't sure why he was trying to reason with her. He sat back down and allowed Trelawney to continue spieling.

"You believe me, don't you, Ron?"

Ron shrugged. "Yeah, of course, but... Why would there be a pale white disembodied arm floating in here? Or anywhere?"

Harry sighed. "I have no idea."

Harry continued to see the white arm throughout the week, often hidden in plain sight, and often in the strangest of places.

As Hermione explained to him and Ron about her project, Spew or something, Harry's eyes drifted towards the window, and he saw it again.

"Guys, the arm is back," he said, pointing.

Sure enough, as soon as their heads turned, it was gone.

Hermione sighed. "I see no arm, Harry," she said, as if they'd gone over this conversation multiple times previously, which of course, they had.

"Yeah bro, there's nothing there," said Ron.

"But it was there," said Harry. "You guys believe me, right?"

"Sure, Harry," lied Hermione.

"Of course," lied Ron.

Harry sighed. There was a tapping at the window. Harry looked up and saw something white. However, this time it wasn't the arm - it was an owl.

"Hedwig!" he exclaimed, running over to open the window.

Hedwig flew in with a hoot, carrying a parcel in her claws. She dropped it in Harry's lap, landing down on his homework.

The parcel had a note attached to it. Harry picked it up, reading the bright purple words.

FrOm tHe dEaTh gOd wOrLd, WiTh lOvE
UsE WiSeLy ;o)

p.s.
DON'T MOTHERFUCKIN TOUCH IT.
honk. :o)

"What a peculiar way of writing," commented Hermione.

"Yeah, who the hell writes like that?" said Ron. "It's hurting my eyes just to look at it!"

"Don't touch it?" asked Harry. "Why would someone send me something they don't want me to touch?"

Ron shrugged. "Well, anyone who writes like that can't be trusted. You should probably just throw it away."

"Not to mention the rude obscenity they spouted at you," noted Hermione.

"And how they claimed it was 'from the death god world'," continued Ron. "Whatever that means, it can't be good."

Harry knew they were right. He knew whatever was in this parcel would be very bad news. He knew that he should throw it into the fireplace and make sure it burned completely. And yet, he was curious. He had to know what it was.

"Ron, hand me my dragon-hide gloves."

"But-"

"Just give them to me."

"Harry," said Hermione. "You can't be serious."

Ron handed him the gloves. Harry tried not to make a big deal out of putting them on.

"I know whatever this is is probably bad news," he said, " But something tells me it could solve all our problems."

With that, he tore the wrappings off of the object and revealed what was inside. A solid black notebook, the title engraved in white bone letters.

DEATH NOTE

"Burn it," said Hermione.

"Why?"

"Just do it," she said. "Don't ask questions."

"Why not?"

Hermione sighed. "That book is very bad news. I know I read about it at some point, but I can't remember where exactly. If the library has it, it'll probably be in the forbidden section..."

Hermione began to pace back and forth, muttering quietly to herself.

At this point, Ron had put on his own gloves, and picked up the book from Harry, opening it carefully.

"The human whose name is written in this book shall die," he read aloud. "Well then."

"This note will not take effect unless the writer has the subject's face in their mind when writing his or her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.

"If the cause of death is written within 40 seconds of writing the subject's name, it will happen.

"If the cause of death is not specified, the subject will simply die of a heart attack.

"After writing the cause of death, the details of the death should be written in the next six minutes and 40 seconds."

Harry's eyes widened as Ron went on. "Detailed."

"See?" said Hermione. "I told you it was bad news! Don't use it!"

"Of course he wouldn't use it," said Ron. "There's no way he'd kill anyone! Right, Harry?"

Harry hesitated. "Well... There is... Lord Voldemort."

Ron shivered. "You don't think..."

"I think it's worth a try," said Harry, flipping it to the next blank page.

"Harry," said Hermione as Ron reached for a quill. "Don't do it..."

"Come on Hermione," said Ron, "Do you want Him gone, or not?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I just don't think using this notebook is the right way to go about it."

Ron handed Harry the quill, ignoring her.

Harry dipped the quill in his bottle of ink and scribbled down the name.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle."

After a few seconds, Harry felt a sharp pain in his forehead - but it was small, fleeting. He winced.

"Did it work?" asked Ron.

"I'm not sure," replied Harry. "I feel I would've felt something stronger if Voldemort had really died."

Ron shuddered.

"Ok so it didn't work," said Hermione. "It clearly did something, though, and whatever it was, it can't have been good. So just burn it."

"Ok jeez, Hermione," said Ron. "Calm down."

Harry closed up the notebook and tossed it towards the fireplace.

However, just as he did so, the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open, and a mysterious figure zipped by, catching the book in midair, then zipped back out. A second later, the Fat Lady swung back closed.

"That was... Odd."

"You think we should investigate that?" asked Harry.

"Nah, probably not," said Ron.

Author's Note: So, this is the first time I've written anything in a while, but I hope it's still enjoyable even though I'm a bit rusty. If you found this was humorous, or at least feel it has the potential to be humorous, feel free to review, follow, and all that good stuff. So, I guess that's it! I'll try to keep these notes to a minimum from now on, probably.