Author's Notes: This story came about rather unexpectedly. I was preparing this account's first story to be my Cat Returns fic, but instead it's a crossover, a type of fic I'm usually against. Oh well. I've been wanting to write a Harry Potter/Death Note crossover for years so I guess it's okay. Warning: I may pair our favorite Master of Death with our favorite detective if that's where my story goes. But there will be little fluff if any and absolutely no smut so even if I go that route so there's that. Whatever. Here's the story.

Fear the Reaper

Chapter One

"I like to do things quickly because I'm easily bored."

-Karl Lagerfeld

As the being roamed purposefully down the seemingly endless hall, it restrained a shiver as a steady tap, tap, tap rhythm grew louder. The noise wasn't new to the being, as it had been a near constant in the palace since the Master took residence within, but the sound never ceased to unnerve it. The creature, for there was no better word to describe the being, finally stopped in front of the last door in the corridor. The door was hardly different from the countless others within the hall, with its frame being surrounded by a littering of skulls and the door itself being the darkest of obsidian. The only difference was the skeletal hand that acted as a doorknob, one of only two within the palace that appeared as if it had been dipped in gold. The golden color of the hand was the only clue to the being that was behind the door.

The creature took in a deep breath, though without lungs it didn't truly need it, and knocked twice before grasping the golden hand and twisting, quickly slipping inside. The tapping was louder than ever as the one creating the noise was mere feet in front of the creature.

The being in front of the creature was beautiful in an inhuman way, quite the opposite of the creature who was disturbing and grotesque in an inhuman way. Yes the Master, for that was who the being was, was nothing like the creature, whose appearance was that of an extremely large skeleton made completely of iron that had rusted at the bottom of the sea, and the smell of rotting flesh and rust never seemed to leave it. When the Master had first arrived, it was obvious the creature's looks and moreover his odor had disgusted the young Master, but now, as strikingly bright emerald eyes gaze boredly at the creature, there is not even a hint of disgust to be seen.

The Master was lounging in his throne, dozens upon dozens of paperwork covering the ornate desk in front of him, so much so that the desk wasn't to be seen at all. A long pale stick hung limply from the Master's right hand, tapping steadily upon the side of the Master's throne. Once again, the being repressed a shiver as its eyeless sockets rested upon the Master's Deathstick. Upon seeing where the creature's gaze lay, the Master let a lazy smirk cross his features before he straightened up a tad, so as to sit at least somewhat properly in the chair.

"Why do you disturb me Retchus?"

The creature's rusted bones stiffened, for that was its name that its Master had uttered. It shifted uneasily before it decided to answer as the Master was not known for his patience.

"There is a problem, milord. In the Human Realm."

Retchus's voice was as unappealing as its appearance, sounding like metal upon metal and reminding its Master faintly of nails on a chalkboard. The Master minutely frowned at the creature's words, before letting his face fall back into its natural blank look. One of the Master's thin hands swiped almost angrily at a lock of inky black hair upon his face, the other tightening upon the Deathstick, the only sign to the creature of its Master's mood. Retchus once again shifted uneasily, cringing slightly at the sound of its rusted bones creaking.

"And why is this my problem?"

The Master's voice was cold, so cold in fact that that even Retchus, who could not feel temperature, couldn't suppress the shiver that overcame it. It knew when it had been given the task of telling the Master the news that there was a very significant chance that it could lead to the end of its seemingly eternal life, but the Master had to be told and it had drawn the short stick.

"It involves a Death Note."

The Master froze at its words, before slumping back upon his throne, throwing a weak glare at the creature. Retchus fidgeted slightly under its Master, the King of Death's, gaze but finally stood firm. The Master wasn't like his predecessor, Death himself. The Master had only killed six Death Gods in his short reign of the Shinigami Realm. It didn't appear as if Retchus would be punished for being the bearer of bad news, which it was extremely grateful for.

The Master finally sat up from his slumped position and set steely emerald eyes upon his subject. Retchus mentally prepared itself for its Master's next move. Finally, the Master's calm and solemn voice sounded once more.

"Tell me everything."

Emerald eyes peered down at the endless pool beneath him. It had been months since he had allowed himself to set foot near the portal. He knew himself well enough to know that he could waste his entire life away, sitting upon this cliff edge and watching the lives of his former friends continue on without him. It was a sad existence, an existence very alike one he once thought he would have if he could not tear himself away from that magical mirror in his youth that had shown his deepest desires come to life. But he had not come to the portal for the whimsical wish of watching a life he could never have. This time he would have to step foot in a world he hadn't been to in nearly three whole years. Fortunately, the destination he had to go to would be far from the familiar areas of the lands of youth in the Human Realm, so hopefully no one will recognize him if he needs to be visible. He hopes that he can get this over quickly; he would rather spend as little time in the Human Realm as possible.

Ryuk. The name tasted bitter on his lips. When he found that Shinigami and fixed his mess, there would be hell to pay. The death toll was already ridiculous to Harry. If he didn't get possession of the Death Note soon, the world as he once knew it would be irreparably changed for some hundred years when the past will be pushed away by the present concerns. He hopes that if he confiscates the Death Note as soon as possible, any rumors of the deaths will die down and be designated as some rare disease that had spread and died quickly. Harry remembered with slight irony that in his youth he had once been told that muggles see only what they want to see. Now Harry knows that it is not just muggles that see what they want to see, but humans in general.

The young King of Death looked deeper into the pool, edging ever closer to the edge, before picking up his right foot and determinately plunging it into the portal.

The next thing he was aware of was the feeling of falling. His messy black hair whipped unforgivingly at his face. His loose clothes were also whipping furiously in the oncoming rush as he fell from the sky into the Human Realm. This feeling was indescribable and completely freeing, but Harry had a job to do, so he, with great reluctance, twirled his wand purposefully, immediately slowing his downward momentum. The hovering man flipped his body so that his body was vertical, and looked down upon the world he once had been a part of.

He knows he should feel sad, an overwhelming depression, as he looks down at a world of fast cars, and people, and life, but he can barely bring himself to feel a slight pang of melancholy. This unfeeling nature of his had been his first clue that he was no longer tied to this Realm. He had almost welcomed Death when he appeared before him, thankful that someone could tell him it was not his fault, that he was not a freak, for the overwhelming feeling of apathy and distantness he had felt around the people he had grew up with when they needed the emotional support the most.

Quickly shaking off his wayward thoughts, Harry looked around the city lying beneath him, before choosing an empty spot in a park to appear. A quick tightening of his grip on his wand and he appeared where he had chosen. Apparating with the Elder Wand, or the Deathstick as those in the Shinigami Realm referred to it, was always easy for him, and the feeling of being squeezed through a tube was completely gone. That made Harry like Apparation a lot more.

The King of Death looked around the artificial park he had appeared in. Every plant was perfectly trimmed and perfectly placed in the most perfect position. Harry felt an eye twitch at the complete unnaturalness of it all but shook the feeling off, purposefully walking out of the park, ignoring any person he passed. It wasn't like they could see him in the first place and it always unnerved him to see those numbers constantly ticking down to zero hovering above their heads.

After wandering aimlessly for a few hours through the Japanese city, Harry figured he probably wouldn't find the Death Note and its owner by mere chance in an area this large. A light sigh escaped him as he realized he wouldn't be able to end these pointless killings as easily and quickly as he thought he would. Moving towards an empty alleyway, the young King waved his wand, first to transfigure his clothes to something acceptable to blend in with those of the members of the city, and then to make himself visible to humans.

Tucking his wand into his sleeve, Harry ran an unhealthily pale hand through his hair, pointlessly trying to tame his wild mane, before he made his way back down the alleyway and onto the busy street, ignoring the few curious glances he got. Harry was searching for a good looking yet relatively unnoticeable place to sleep, or at least plan out his moves to find the wayward Death God and his infernal book.

After a few turns and a few disappointing establishments, Harry was near desperate to find a place. Thankfully, the small inn he was standing inside of now seemed as if it would work for his purposes. It was relatively deserted, with only a middle aged woman sitting at a table drinking tea and reading a tabloid and an older woman standing behind a counter. Upon his enter, the elderly Japanese woman looked up and smiled kindly towards him. Harry's eyes flickered upwards without his consent and his mind quickly translated the kanji to English. Momoko Kojima. She had less than five more years to live. Harry quickly looked back down to her eyes and forced any pity from gaze. A fake smile came easily to his lips as he walked towards the innkeeper's counter.

"Are you looking for a room, dearie?" the woman asked, the crow's feet around her eyes becoming even more prominent as she smiled up at him. Harry wasn't exactly tall, even in human standards, and it had been a long while since he had been around humans, so he felt a little odd looking down to talk to someone, but he quickly gave a nod and sent an insecure smile towards the woman. He may not feel many emotions any longer, but he remembers how he would have once reacted and acts accordingly.

Before he knew it, the young King stood in the middle of a dusty and small room, an old key hanging limply in his hand. He turned around and told the elderly woman looking at him expectantly that the room was perfect and he would be sure to head down for what he was sure would be a delightful breakfast. Once the door was closed, the fake smile fell off his face and he looked indifferently around the room. Slipping his wand into his hand, Harry quickly waved his hand and banished the dust. The Shinigami Realm was always full of dust and debris and he had always detested it due to his upbringing where he had to clean every speck of dirt by hand. As soon as he gained control of the palace, his first act of business was to banish every piece of dust from its premises. It didn't help that anything from the Human Realm was banished to the Shinigami Realm and vice versa. It was sometimes interesting to take long walks through the unpopulated areas of the Shinigami Realm where things that wizards had banished centuries before lie.

With a bored sigh, Harry flopped back on the small bed, grimacing at the loud squeak that emitted from it. The mattress was hard and the King had a feeling he wouldn't sleep on it at all. Lying back on the bed, thoughts and plans coming quickly and being discarded quicker, the young Master of Death prepared himself for the worst. Because if there was one thing Harry had learned over the years, it was that things never went according to his plans. And when his plans went bad, they went bad.

End Note: Rather short but that's it. The others will probably be a lot longer. (Most chapters I write are 5k+) Next chapter: A bit of backstory on how Harry came to be the King and the story heats up as Kira and L enter the game.