Author's note: I've got the outline for at least seven chapters down now, but my interest in the story has been non-existent for the longest time. Sadly this is the best I could come up with at the moment – a mostly filler chapter.
albeva, who was kind enough to leave a comment way back, brought up some points that I have tried to explain below:
#1 – Yes, the part with Hagrid and the centipede was mostly included for humour effect, so it does go against his character, but, perhaps, the shock of the situation and his giant-ancestry caused him to lash out in defence?
#2 – The Notts are even more into genealogy and blood status than most other pure-blood families – if I remember correctly it was a Nott who wrote and published "The Sacred Twenty-Eight", so Theodore had inherited the same interest in bloodlines, and has access to manuscripts and books on the topic, and may have overheard things about Voldemort's blood status.
Because of this interest in genealogy and bloodlines/blood status I think he may conceivably have found out about Voldemort. Perhaps trying to find a connection between his family and that of the Dark Lord led him to research Voldemort's ancestry? With easy access to TSE-E, would be curious what Voldemort's ancestry was, and when he found out, he'd be shocked and perhaps disgusted by the truth.
#3 – I think Theodore would dislike Voldemort when/if he found out the great Dark Lord was just a half-blood, and he'd view himself as superior because he hails from one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Theodore is haughty and prideful and views himself as better than the Dark Lord because of his blood status, though he acknowledges that Voldemort is a skilled wizard. Ultimately he probably realises that people like Voldemort and Bellatrix are unfit to lead the wizarding world to anything other than disaster – Voldemort is too power hungry and Bellatrix is unhinged because she has been imprisoned in Azkaban.
⁂
There was a spring to his step as he left the library for dinner, and it seemed like his good mood had affected his study partner. Despite awfully tragical news of Shacklebolt's sudden death, she seemed to be in good spirits, and Theo thought he had caught her look at him once or twice during their study session with a look in her eyes that… no, that was of course silly. He should have known better than to mistake loneliness and scholarly companionship for anything more than that.
Although he thought Granger to be too emotional, she was driven and studious. He was under no delusions that she was interested in him for any other reason than as a fellow studious student with whom she could enjoy peace and quiet in the library. He had never been interested in romance, or really thought much about the fair sex, always preferring the company of men at school and at home. As the heir apparent to an ancient pure-blooded family and a considerable estate and fortune he might have found a beautiful girl to be his love, but like others who found themselves in similar circumstances, there was simply too much responsibility weighing on his shoulders, had he even been interested in romance or any other trivial distractions life might offer.
Like the Malfoys, who had always been fair and delicate, almost fae-like, with their silvery blond hair and large blue eyes, the Notts had similarly been rather distinct, and one would never accuse them of being plain-looking. There had, since time immemorial, been too much aristocratic hauteur in them to be considered plain. And all this held true in the family's scion, the last of the line. He was tall, neither thin nor large, pale and dark-haired, with cold eyes. Dignified was, perhaps, a polite way to describe the Notts, who all had that curl of the upper lip that at once came off as prideful scorn or cruelty as much as it did good humour.
He nodded his farewell to Granger as they exited the library, as she was accosted by the youngest Weasley and a gaggle of her annoying Gryffindor acquaintances, and for once he was thankful for the redhead's appearance. He had endured enough pleasantries and socialising for the moment. How anyone could tolerate the constant presence of someone was something he'd never understand.
Morgo, despite his rather ghoulish appearance, was much more agreeable to be around. He knew when to be silent and when to speak, and for the moment he seemed content to just lazily float around behind him, taking in the surroundings and background noises from students moving to and fro.
It was only then that he fully began to appreciate the presence of someone, as his mind began to wander and worry. He had put things in motion that he hadn't really considered the full implications of. If nothing else, the next few hours and days would prove to be interesting.
As he waited for the news to break under the guise of waiting for dinner, Theodore was fidgeting, toying with his signet ring under the table. He did his best to ignore Morgo, who appeared to be getting bored, and was lounging on the teacher's table, staring up at the magical ceiling and humming to himself.
McGonagall entered and the boisterous student body became slightly less boisterous as she walked down the middle aisle, heading for the raised platform where the teacher's table stood. Morgo immediately sat upright and looked at Theodore who met his gaze. The shinigami no doubt expected or assumed there might be something afoot. Some of the other faculty members hushed the remaining noise-makers, and at last the large hall was silent, and McGonagall spoke up: "I am saddened to announce the tragic and unexpected death of our Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore."
There was absolute dead silence for a second or two before all hell broke loose. Theodore didn't really pay attention to anything that was said after McGonagall's initial statement or the following uproar. He had had some time to prepare for the news, and was rather looking forward to being back in the Common Room again. He watched as teachers hurried off, pale-faced and silent, and students ran around like headless chickens. Some cried. Some had gone silent. And some were already spreading inane and insane theories about how it had happened. Some jokesters had already begun to spread scandalous rumours about the Headmaster's sudden demise.
A teary-eyed Sprout announced that there would be a memorial in the Great Hall that evening. Not that Theodore thought of attending, unless to make a public display on behalf of his House. He turned and caught Daphne muttering in mock-mourning that "the good one always die young." He saw the twinkle in her eye, and rolled his eyes. What would it be like in the Slytherin Common Room after the news broke? As far as he knew most Slytherins would be pleased that the old geezer had finally croaked, some would be relieved, and another group would merely shrug their shoulders and go on about their day.
That half-giant Dumbledore had taken under his wing seemed absolutely heartbroken and devastated by the news as some of the teachers tried to console him. His loud, hiccuping bawling echoed between the walls and drowned out all other talk. McGonagall had already whispered some orders to the other teachers before she had taken off, presumably to talk to Ministry officials and investigators.
No one seemed to remember dinner, and it didn't take long for the Great Hall to be nearly deserted as a countless horde of students stormed off to owl their parents and relatives of the horrible news. Theodore joined the rest of Malfoy's entourage as they headed for the dungeons. There'd be no point lingering around and be exposed to Hagrid's constant howls and crying ("MY GAWD!") for longer than necessary. And once away from prying ears they could finally discuss the matter. Like most proper pure-blood's Theodore had been taught how to act and behave, how to present himself and his family. He was an extension of his family and any missteps would not just reflect poorly on him, but his family, his ancestors. As such he considered using such slurs publicly to be in poor taste and a clear sign of the lower classes. Of course he had no objection to using coarse language or slurs in private.
"Drinks on me!" Draco announced, undoing and discarding his tie and robe, as they entered the bedroom. The whole Slytherin Common Room was abuzz and some had already begun to celebrate. Draco retrieved a bottle of firewhiskey from his secret hiding place and popped the cork with a pang. Crabbe and Goyle had brought food with them, as it had been sent out to the various Common Rooms so the students could eat in private. "Cheers!" Draco took a mouthful and passed the bottle on to Theodore. They had shuffled out of the Great Hall and down to the dungeons in silence, but as soon as the door had closed behind them they could finally allow themselves to celebrate and not pretend to give a damn that the pompous old geezer had died.
"Cheers," Theodore responded with a nod. Draco sat down on his bed and let himself fall backward onto it. It looked like a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders. "The gods are smiling at me," Draco declared, grinning, unaware that Morgo, the death god, was smiling at him at that moment. Ever since the announcement the shinigami had had a permanent grin. Though, to be correct, his face seemed to always have a ghastly rictus-grin, but after the big announcement there was a sort of glow or shine in his undead eyes that seemed to indicate that he found the whole ordeal thoroughly amusing and entertaining. "And I was afraid this trip would be a waste," he chuckled, looking at Theodore.
That night it took forever for the Common Room to quiet down. People were much too excited to go to bed, and people were constantly leaving or arriving with new letters or the latest edition of The Daily Prophet to share the news with the others.
"Damn, this stuff isn't too bad!" Morgo groaned, having just finished the last of a bottle of firewhiskey someone had left behind. Theodore raised an eyebrow, but remained silent. Blaise had passed out in the armchair next to him, and just a few meters away other students were pouring over the special edition of The Daily Prophet to get the latest scoop on the big news. Theodore had been pretending to busy himself with homework, like a few others had done as well once they grew tired of hearing the same rumours repeated as a new student arrived with a letter or a newspaper. But, he had borrowed Pansy's edition of the wizarding world's answer to "Who's Who", which was published yearly in two volumes: "Which Wizard?" & "Which Witch?"
This allowed him to find most of the important blood-traitors and war heroes who had been on the other side of the war. Their biographies listed their various accomplishments and deeds, and he was able to make a neat list of the worst offenders who ought to be punished eventually; Abbot, Longbottom, Macmillan, Prewett, Wesley…
For the moment he was content just keeping their names on a separate list. Some of them would obviously have to go – their treason was too severe for it to be overlooked, but others were merely guilty of minor offences, possibly out of fear or pressure, and it would take some time to determine where he would draw the line.
Morgo hovered near one of the groups to get updated on the latest gossip. For a death god he seemed to take an awful lot of enjoyment in gossip and drama and mayhem. More than once Theodore heard him chuckle at some overheard rumour or crude joke about the recently departed Headmaster. But, by far, the one who seemed to take the most pleasure in the news was Draco, who had gone on a bender to celebrate. Theodore had heard that the Dark Lord had given Draco some awful mission, and guessed that it had something to do with Dumbledore, given his reaction.
The old grandfather clock struck twelve and Theodore decided to close the books. He'd played the part of the studious student long enough. All that remained was the word that the second person, if one could call him that, whose name he had written in the Death Note had also perished. He'd love to see Draco and the others react to that news. The self-styled Dark Lord had loomed in the background for too long. Just his name cast a long shadow over their lives and future, and it would be incredibly freeing to step out of that shadow and into the sun. Without the Dark Lord's oppressing presence they could finally get on with their lives without fear, and with the Death Note he could take the steps to ensure that the magical world would thrive and prosper in the future, without its two chief personalities trying to tear it asunder.
Theodore detested surprises, not knowing what would happen, and something catching him off guard, unprepared, was an unbearable thought. He took comfort in routines and established, unspoken rules everyone followed without question. The Dark Lord and his counterpart, Dumbledore, represented that chaotic unknowable variable that could throw everything into pandemonium. Unlike the power-hungry megalomaniacs he did not desire power or fame or riches; he did what he did out of the righteous goodness of his heart and to an almost overwhelming risk to his own life.
It really was lucky that he had been the one to find the Death Note, he thought, as he leaned back in the chair and smiled at the sight of the shinigami grinning, almost literally, from ear to ear at some scandalous rumour about Dumbledore's death. They'd make a good pair, him and the death god.