I've been on a Death Note binge for a while. One of the stories I stumbled upon was this idea that Raito/ Light was reincarnated as Harry with a young Harry becoming a copy of Light. Though Light is somewhat of a psychopath at the end (and not only at the end), I do believe he could fit into this idea (as you can read below), but I do not believe that Harry Potter would disappear. For that reason I decided to combine the two after Harry's fifth year.

Summary: Voldemort's possession had done more than just cause both of them pain. It had unleashed something not dissimilar to Voldemort: Kira. But would Kira be the same if one were to combine Harry Potter with Raito Yagami? a Raito-is-Harry story with a twist.

Disclaimer: as always, I don't own the rights.

Nature versus nurture is a theory about the idea that people from the same genetic material (think identical twins) will be different when raised in different circumstances. Therefore, it is not only your genetic make-up that determines the way you become and are.

Enjoy!

By God, it hurt. His scar felt as if it was tearing open and his head felt like it was splitting apart. But there was nothing he could do, he couldn't even shout out or whimper.
And then something did tear inside of his head and he screamed soundlessly, unheard by everyone around him.

He stared down in slight disbelief, even as his hand came up to press firmly against one of the leaking wounds. He had been shot. He, the God of the New World. He looked up towards the one who shot him, and a feeling of betrayal went through him.

There was nothing he could do but writhe on the floor in pain as Voldemort told Dumbledore to kill him. And he just wished Dumbledore would listen to the taunts and end this torturous pain. At least then he could see his parents again. And Sirius.

He was bleeding to death. His name probably already written down in the book held by Ryuk. A sense of failure went through him as he felt himself grow weaker. After everything he had done, after everything he had given, he still hadn't reached his goal of creating a better world.

It didn't take long before everything turned black. Kira had lost.

Warmth spread through him at the thought of seeing his loves ones again. And with the warmth, the pain caused by the possession left him rather abruptly until only a mild headache remained. A mild headache, and a strong sense of confusion and of being unsure of his own identity. For whatever it had been that had teared inside his own head had opened an entire different existence, filled with memories from another person or another life.

He watched on silently as Voldemort fled and he obeyed instantly as Dumbledore pushed the portkey into his hands that brought him back to Hogwarts, too out of it to fully apprehend what was going on around him. He was, after all, far too busy dealing with the fact that something was no longer right.

oOo

He was no longer sure who he was. He wasn't Raito Yagami – or the other way around –, the brilliant Japanese student with a strategic mind fast enough to think up solutions for every single problem, the genius with a guarded personality hidden behind a nonchalant mask, the serial killer extraordinaire who wanted to improve the world, Kira with the diabolic mastermind. Raito Yagami had been killed in that warehouse sometime – confusingly enough – in the future.

But he was also no longer Harry Potter, just Harry who wanted to be ordinary enough to be loved like Dudley, the Boy-Who-Lived who sometimes wished he hadn't, the Gryffindor who carelessly stated what he thought, the Parselmouth who couldn't keep out of trouble even if he tried, the Chosen One who would have to become a murderer. Though most of that evening had become nothing but one vague memory, he did remember the prophecy he had been told and he did remember how he was the only one who could apparently defeat Voldemort.

But of he was no longer Harry Potter, and he was no longer Raito Yagami, than who was he?

His body still looked like Harry Potter; the same messy dark brown hair, the same green eyes, the same scar, the same knobbly knees, the same short stature, Caucasian. He looked nothing like the tall, handsome, lightly tanned, Japanese form of Raito Yagami. Did that make him Harry Potter?
But Raito Yagami had lived a longer life than Harry Potter had. Did that make him Raito Yagami?

Or was he both? Raito Yagami had wanted to create a new, better world without crime. Harry Potter wanted to save innocents from being killed by Voldemort. Raito had been bored and given the means, Harry had been forced into the role but had accepted it when he had been told that he was a wizard. Fundamentally, they both wanted the same. Both had been given power. Raito however, had turned into a psychopath who killed everyone in the way of his goals. Harry had supressed part of himself to become something others believed he should be.

But they did share some characteristics. They shared a sense of justice. They shared the feeling that they were the only ones capable of acting. They shared the will to give everything to reach their goal. They both greatly disliked losing, because losing meant not just that someone else was better; losing meant death.

No, he was no longer Raito Yagami, nor was he Harry Potter. But he could become the best of both and reach both goals: defeat Voldemort and create a better wizarding world.

oOoOoOo

Harry had changed. She knew this for sure.

Some of the changes were visible. his marks had become higher and he no longer turned towards her for help. His uniform was still the same but he kept it far more neat than before. He was far more confident and it reflected in the way he acted and walked. He talked differently, more eloquently; the words he used were more difficult. He had also become more ruthless, his mind set had changed from 'to take them out' to 'to make sure they don't get up again'. And he had become mo-

"Checkmate," her thoughts were interrupted by the confident tone of voice of one of her best friends. But it was not something she was used to hearing from said aforementioned best friend.

"How did you do that?" Ron nearly whined. He was not used to the fact that Harry could suddenly win a chess match played against him.
But Harry just leaned back into his chair, his legs crossed almost elegantly and a confident near-smirk on his face.

Yes, her best friend had changed. Sometimes he still acted as the boy she had known for five years. But other times he had become a near stranger. His words cynical and hard, his mind calculative and dangerous, his way of acting ruthless and deadly.

She had asked him about the changes once, a while ago. He had just stared at her, his green eyes sharp and searching for something in her eyes only he could see, before he had answered.
"Sirius' death had been an accident, and he will be missed," he had stated softly, "but he wouldn't have died if I had had all the information. If studying a bit harder, if reading a bit more, if asking more questions, if working harder would mean that you guys will remain safe and unharmed then it will be worth it."

"But that would mean that we have less time to discuss Quidditch theories," Ron had said horrified, "or play games!"
"We'll still have time for that," Harry said soothingly before he had grinned a crooked smile, "I rather prefer winning the game after all. But I have decided to take this war a bit more seriously."

Sometimes, she wondered if You-Know-Who had taken over her best friend. If the possession he had told her about hadn't caused a split personality inside of her best friend: one still acting as Harry Potter, and one acting more like she would have thought a dark lord to act like. But then he smiled at her. A genuine smile more confident than she was used to, but still meant just for her even though he acted like the personality that she deemed more like that of a dark lord. And she forced herself to stop thinking like that and just smiled back.

oOoOoOo

The brat had always been arrogant, strutting around like he owned the school. As if rules did not apply to him. But he had become even more arrogant.
He had believed that the death of the mutt would have shown the boy how flawed he truly was. He had believed that it would have brought the boy's ego back down to a manageable size. But it hadn't.

His marks had gotten higher in every class but his and that combined with his new title of Chosen One seemed to have inflated the boy's ego to near impossible heights. The way he strutted around, the way he laughed and talked with his friends, his popularity; it all reminded him of another Potter with similar hair and a similar attitude.

He planned to make sure to show the arrogant brat every time he could that he wasn't better than his classmates as soon as he could. That he was, in fact, beneath quite a few others simply because of the fact that he couldn't use nonverbal spells.

The boy had not been the first one to manage casting a non-verbal spell. Hell, he hadn't even cast a single spell during the entire lesson, while some of his classmates who had been raised in a purely wizarding family like Draco Malfoy or those who had a better grasp on the theory like the know-it-all Hermione Granger managed it before the end of the first hour.

But the brat didn't seem deterred by his lack of casting. In fact, though he appeared somewhat annoyed at the fact that he had yet to cast anything, he also seemed to study the way his female friend silently forced his other friend's wand from his hand and caught it. If the boy had been anyone else he would have used the word 'analysed', but even though his marks had become somewhat decent he was still just a lazy, arrogant child.

He marched forward determinately, his cloak billowing dramatically behind him. It was time he actually taught the boy something. Both to proof the boy that he had to learn more to actually survive and to show him that his arrogance was dangerous.

He drew his wand before he even reached the small group consisting of the three Gryffindors and quickly and quietly shot a stinging hex towards the Potter boy. The spell was aimed well and it hit the boy right where he had intended to hit him; on his right hand. The boy dropped his wand in shock, but immediately picked it up.

The brat turned towards him, an annoyed look upon his arrogantly styled features which melted away into curiosity as he noticed who it had been that had hit him.
"Defend yourself!" he barked as he shot another hex towards him.
The boy's eyes narrowed slightly before he physically moved out of the way of the hex in an almost elegant, dancelike move. His lips pulled back into a ugly sneer as he sent another one towards him, and once again the brat moved out of its way in that odd way. Even three hexes sent over a larger area nearly at the same time were dodged easily.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," he snarled darkly as his hexes failed to land and the boy failed to cast even a single spell, "five extra point will be deducted for every time you fail to nonverbally cast a shield charm as a reaction to my spells. Five points will be deduced for every time my spell will tear through your shield charm, if your feeble concentration attempts somehow manage to cast one. Do you understand?"

"Yes," the Potter brat simply responded, but something dark and unreadable gleamed inside those bright, green eyes.
"Sir," he snapped.
"Though I appreciate the honorific, calling me sir is redundant," the brat stated smoothly, and his lips turned up slightly in a very brief smile.

It took him a couple of long seconds to pull himself together before he finally ground out, "five points from Gryffindor and detention tonight."
He didn't even warn the insolent brat before he sent a nonverbal Stupefy towards him.

He could feel his own eyes widen in muted surprise at the nonverbally cast shield that sprung up between them. The spell he had fired hit it, and was bounced right back at him.
The last thing he saw before everything turned black – courtesy of his own spell combined with the surprise at seeing the shield – was the victorious, vicious look of satisfaction in the brat's eyes.

oOoOoOo

"Professor Snape told me you attacked him," he told the boy sitting in front of him, his tone filled with the disappointment he felt, "he deducted fifty points and you'll serve detention with Argus Filch every night we don't have a meeting for the rest of this year."

Something flashed through the child's expressive green eyes before they became shaded and every emotion disappeared. And it was such a familiar expression on a face it did not belong.
"I see," he said, his face unreadable and his tone of voice devoid of any emotion.

He studied him from over the edge of his glasses, nearly desperate to find something that showed that he was not still possessed by a part of Voldemort.
"Before we continue where we stopped last time," he said gently, "is there something you would like to tell me?"
He was pretty sure that, just like in Harry's second year, he wouldn't get a satisfactory response and the shake of the child's head showed how right he had been.

"In that case I would like to show you this memory of Horace Slughorn," he stated as he rose from his seat and made his way over towards the already prepared Pensieve, "after you."

oOo

He watched on in something he would normally have described as a mix of happiness and relieve and satisfaction and a whole other slew of emotions as the young Gryffindor dived gracefully towards the ground.

He would have believed it to be impossible, but the simple joy of just flying around for the sake of flying seemed to have increased inside someone who was already known to enjoy flying immensely.

He had noticed that young Harry Potter had become more withdrawn, more aloof, cooler, more secure and more confident in himself. He had also notice a couple of traits the boy hadn't had before. Arrogance, disdain, a certain lack of morals and rules, so much smarter than his peers that it set him apart, and a incredible dislike, distrust and disrespect for people in places of authority. Traits he had always noticed in one Tom Riddle.

But Tom Riddle had never enjoyed flying. Neither for recreation, nor for competition. And Harry was enjoying his flying, very much so if the smile on his face and the happy, content sparkle in his eyes was any indication.

No, he was no longer 100 percent certain that young Harry Potter had been taken over by the horcrux of one Tom Riddle. But something had changed within the boy. He just hoped it wasn't anything that would hurt either the boy, his friends or anyone else latter on.

oOoOoOo

"Professor, I have a question and I would appreciate it if you could answer it truthfully," he looked up from the work he had been marking in surprise. The last class of the day – the sixth year class with some of his favourite students of his current year of teaching, in fact – had ended a couple of minutes ago and he had believed that all of the students had left. But the young Gryffindor with green eyes the same colour of another favourite student of his – and why did she have to die? She had been so brilliant! – showed his mistake.

"Mister Potter, of course, of course!" he answered cheerfully, but he couldn't help but feel dread at the piercing eyes that seemed to analyse his every movement, the child's looks, the way he was standing and talking and the way his mind worked. And though they were not carbon copies – their behaviour was different, the way they acted towards others was different – it reminded him too much of another, brilliant student some fifty years ago. One that had become the very reason he was once again teaching at Hogwarts.

"How can I help you?" he added curiously, though he couldn't help the slightly weary tone.
"Like I mentioned, I have a question and I would appreciate it if you would let me finish and if you could give me a straight answer," the boy stated firmly.
He opened his mouth to respond but the boy just smiled. In the end he just nodded.

"Some fifty years ago one Tom Riddle came to you to ask about horcruxes," Harry started, "you handed part of the memory showing that conversation to the headmaster. I do not care for the exact memory. Nor do I care for your response to Riddle's question."
He once again opened his mouth to refute what the Gryffindor was saying but he just continued.

"It is clear from the things Voldemort has said in my presence combined with some other arguments that Dumbledore believes that Voldemort has made more than one horcrux," the boy stated, skilfully ignoring his flinch at the name, "what I want to know is rather simple. Did Riddle mention a number in his conversation with you?"

Those green eyes stared imploringly at him and he could just stare at him. On the one hand he wanted to deny everything. To tell the Gryffindor to leave and to never ask him that ever again. But on the other hand, he wanted to ease his guilt. He no longer wanted to have to look over his shoulder out of fear. He wanted to live again.

He closed his eyes before he whispered softly, "yes."
He felt and heard the boy lean in.
"How many, sir?" he asked and he could hear the anticipation and the impatience in his tone.
"Seven," he answered, even as he started to feel sick, "he asked something about seven horcruxes."

He opened his eyes again, only to be met with two very green, very cold, analytic eyes.
"Seven," the Gryffindor repeated, his tone as frigid as his eyes.

He shook his head and cleared his expression into something more friendly.
"Thank you, professor, for your help," he said with a gentle – but obviously fake – smile, "I appreciate it."

He made his way towards the door and, just before he left, bowed shallowly towards him, leaving him alone with his guilt, his sense of dread and his fears.

oOoOoOo

He studied his best friend pensively as he chewed on his toast. Harry had been acting odd since the end of last year. He knew that Hermione thought he hadn't noticed – Harry probably thought the same thing – but he had. It was hard not to.

It hadn't been his higher marks, or his changed attitude that had given it away. It hadn't even been the fact that he had won or kept winning games of chess against him.
No, it had been the way he had acted towards Ginny, Hermione and him that had shown that something had changed. That, and the fact that he had actively and successfully started to fight back against both Snape and the Slytherins.

Harry had always been nice and kind towards Ginny, no matter how odd his sister had acted around him. And he still acted pleasant towards her, but in a different way.
The same went for his behaviour towards Hermione and him. He no longer asked Hermione for help, he had actually told her that it was no longer needed. He was also no longer willing to indulge him with games of chess that always ended in his defeat – not even after that had turned around in Harry's favour – and he was no longer willing to discuss the Cannons with him for hours and hours.

He had become more distant, more studious, different.

But the biggest sign had been his reaction to his Christmas gifts. He had thanked everyone politely but he had made no move to wear the new sweater his mum had made, he made no move to open his favourite type of candy and he made no move to use the prank items Fred and George had given him.

And while he could believe that his change had something to do with his more serious take on life after his loss of Sirius, the fact that he had gotten more vicious and successfully stealthy in his attacks against the Slytherins, more competitive while playing games or competitions of any kind and acted just plain differently sometimes as if he were someone else entirely showed him that it was something else.

"I've been wondering for a while," he stated after he had finally finished his toast, "but how do you dodge like that?"
"Hm?" Harry hummed questionably as he turned his attention towards him and lowered his copy of the Daily Prophet, folding it neatly and placing it into his bag, "what do you mean?"
"That dodging thing you do during duels and the like, how do you'd that?" he repeated his question, "it almost seems like you are dancing or something."
"Ah, that," his best friend stated with a small smile, "it is rather easy actually. Most people have certain ways of moving before they cast a spell or attack someone physically. All you have to do is notice that small movement so you know which way to move to dodge an attack. And that dancelike aspect comes from the fact that I have taken up capoeira after it had been… Ah, suggested to me by someone I used to know."

He blinked in confusion at that answer, even as he noticed that Hermione had lowered her own book – some thick thing about something he would never read.
"You can dodge bludgers fired at you by the beaters, right?" Harry asked with a soft sigh as he rested his head onto a single hand in a way that looked almost elegant – he wrinkled his nose at his own choice of words, "it is the same principle. You notice the beater hitting the bludger in such a way that it is heading towards you. Though it is rather fast, because you saw the beater hit the bludger you know which way to dodge."

His eyes grew wider as he realised what his friend meant.
"So you just look at the mo-," he started but he was interrupted rather rudely.

"Ready to loose, Pothead?" Malfoy asked from just behind them and he turned towards the three Slytherin boys. Crabbe and Goyle had barely changed, but Malfoy had become more pale, thinner and less arrogant during the year. He had become near depressed, less sure of himself even. Dark smudges had become visible underneath his eyes and he no longer bothered them as often and even he could see that something was going on with the newest Death Eater.

"I should be asking you that," Harry told the annoying blond, and he shot the Slytherin a sharp grin.
"You wish!" Malfoy stated with a snort before he turned around and walked away.
They watched him walk away for a bit before Harry suddenly called out.

"Oh, and Malfoy," he called towards the Slytherin who was about a quarter length of the table away from them. Malfoy turned back towards them.
"Girls do not normally walk with steps that big or with such a bounce, it would show private parts that they rather not share," Harry stated loud enough for Malfoy and all individuals surrounding them to hear, "you might want to take that into consideration for the next time."

He watched in satisfaction as Malfoy paled even further, though he was also confused as to why his friend referred to the other boy as a girl.

oOoOoOo

Sometimes he missed his Death Note. It would have made some things so very, very easy. After all, all he would have had to do was write one single name and the world would forever be free of one dark lord who had named himself Voldemort. As if someone like him could fly away from death.

It would have been deliciously ironic. He would even have taken the time to truly make the man fly. Maybe from a high tower. Or a bridge. Something dramatic and public and moreover: somewhere extremely visible.

But he no longer had his Death Note and though he missed it from time to time he was also very glad that he no longer had to deal with bored Shinigami like Ryuk. Or Rem and her clinginess to Misa.
Not that he was one that should complain about being bored. His boredom had led him to become Kira after all.

But he was no longer bored. Being Harry Potter, being a wizard had brought many opportunities. Especially as Harry Potter had never truly had the will to research anything beyond what was absolutely necessary.

Harry Potter had been far from stupid, just lazy, and though he no longer could be counted as a genius, he did have the memories and pride of one Raito Yagami. And it was that pride that had forced him to become smarter, better and faster with comprehending the material taught. It also meant that he could often be found in the library reading one book or another – not always in plain, old English – or working on some kind of spell or another.

But most of all, he loved flying. He had already loved flying as Harry Potter, but Raito Yagami had once almost wistfully told Ryuk that he would have loved to fly. He would have given half his life for wings. And now he could fly with just the help of a simple broom. Or a spell that he had yet to find.

But neither his new found ability to learn or his love for flying would help him with the Voldemort-problem. Nor would it cause the Death Eaters to drop dead with just the use of a pen and a piece of specific paper.

Maybe it was time to once again become Kira. The British wizarding community all but begged him to do so. Maybe it truly was time for him to become the cold-hearted murderer L had once accused him of being.

He closed his green eyes in something similar to pain. He actually missed L, the first L. Though they had often fought or disagreed he had seen him as something of a friend. L had seen the true him, the less-than-perfect part he had always kept hidden. And he and L had been intellectually so very close to each other. L had had more experience and he had been more analytic, more logical while he had been more social, more emotional but they both had been so very smart. And though Near might have won, he would never be close to either L's or his own level.

Not that he didn't care for his current friends, because he did and he would gladly give his own life for them. Had almost done so multiple times when he had just been Harry Potter, in fact, and just because he had also become Raito Yagami did not mean that that would change.
But L had been an entire different category on his own in which Raito had fit easily and even Hermione, who was one of the most brilliant students of their generation, could not compete with either L, Raito or even Near, Mello or Matt. She might, in a couple of years and with his help, but not now.

L had been the one person who had cured his boredom for the time being – like being Kira had, like being L had, like half-heartedly working against Near had – but he had been in his way and therefore had to go. Just like Voldemort – who actually sounded like a person who he would have adored to pick his brain – had to go.

It was just the way it was. That was just Kira's way. And he was Kira.

I hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter. The second chapter is nearly finished and will be posted in a couple of days/ a week max.

Reviews are as always appreciated.

~ Marwana