I received a comment last chapter that scared me a bit - it said something to the effect of 'What was in the letter?'

I assume this person means 'What was in the letter Malik sent Seto?' For that, I refer you to Chapter 21 - it's the large section in italics. It may also be useful to see it again in this chapter, as we're dealing with it again.

Disclaimer: I swear upon the sparkliness that is my FiberOpticChristmasTreeAngel that I do not own….well, anything, actually. Except for my pony. And my puppy. Who, by the way, is looking at me in that endearing way that says, "Give me peanut butter or your sketchbook gets it."

…..Excuse me as I fill a Kong (also, incidentally, not owned by me) with the sticky/salty/sweetness that is peanut butter.

At Death's Doorstep

Halloween crept up on the entirety of the school, and summer robes were quickly discarded for a thicker, heavier variety. The leaves of nearly every tree surrounding Hogwarts turned to varied colors of fire, reinforcing the change in season.

Cheer also spread throughout the school like a wildfire - and Mokuba was determined to find out the cause.

Opportunity arose for him at the end of a particularly explosive Charms lesson.

"Why am I being dragged off to decorate the whole castle an entire week before your bloody holiday even starts?" he whined, though his face showed an expression akin to excitement.

Hermione looked up at him, bewilderment on her face. Then it clicked. "Oh! Of course! You're celebrations in Japan are a lot smaller than this, aren't they?" He nodded, not willing to tell her that, as a matter of fact, he couldn't remember ever celebrating Halloween. Maybe it was just because of his brother's solitary nature, but….

She looked as though she was trying to figure out where to begin. "Halloween's always been a huge thing in England. I've gone Trick or Treating ever since I was a little kid - it's great. And it is overdone in the Wizarding world - but I suppose it begins with traditional witchcraft being highly associated with darkness and spirits - everything like that, you know? So…I guess that the Wizarding Community has just latched onto the holiday as our own, and we tend to go all out for those things that we really care about. Make sense?"

He nodded, and quickly whisked himself away to rejoin his brother.

Three hours later found him enchanting candles for the great hall (both an "Eternumis" and a "Volaticus" spell were needed to keep them burning and hovering for an indefinite amount of time) alongside his brother, Kurama, and Hiei. Bakura turned up from time to time, toting a line of hovering jack-o-lanterns, and it was rather obvious which ones both he and Ryou had carved. They tended to have angelic, demure expressions on the left and pain twisted features on the right.

They certainly made an impression.

Mokuba sent up his five-hundred-eighty-sixth candle, muscles sore and overused. He looked towards Seto; his brother hardly looked as though he'd been working – in fact, he seemed to be enjoying himself. "Hey, nii-sama. I'm going to the kitchens for a minute, d'you want anything?"

The CEO smiled at his younger brother. "No, I'm fine. Go back to the tower and take a rest, if you need it."

"Kurama? Hiei? You two need anything?"

Hiei blinked at him slowly, and Kurama shook his head. "No, we're alright too. Don't worry yourself."

"Then I might just take you up on that offer of rest, nii-sama. See you later!"

He made a quick round through the kitchens, collecting a goblet of some unknown substance and a pack of pocky, then made a beeline for his brother's room. "Alright, big brother, let's get that letter of yours answered."

Mokuba knew that if left to his own devices, Seto would do what he always did with crazy fan mail - ignore it. In his opinion, it was a pure miracle the letter had yet to be thrown away. So the younger Kaiba brother had spent the last few weeks researching various ways of counterfeiting another person's handwriting - specifically his brother's.

He'd gotten the spell down - now he just needed to make it sound like his brother – Malik was sure to remember who he was and what his personality was like. Six drafts later left him with a brief, pointed note.

Malik Ishtar,

Though still skeptical of both your motives and your authenticity, I accept
the invitation of a meeting between our parties.

Know, however, that if you make any attempts at threats towards either my
company or I, I will not hesitate to crush you.

Seto Kaiba, CEO of Kaiba Corp.

Mokuba reviewed his letter while heading towards the Owlery. Really, he reflected, its better that I kept it short and to the point. It's what nii-sama would have done, at least.

Now if I can only find an owl that goes trans-continental - Malik's probably still in Egypt.

"Mokuba, want to help me for a minute?"

The younger Kaiba brother was shocked out of his train of thought and back into reality. Looking around, he saw Ryou carefully placing the last batch of pumpkins along the corridor. "I - oh! Hi Bakura," he looked around a little guiltily. "I've gotta get to the Owlery, but I'll be back in a sec', okay?"

The white haired boy looked up. "What are you mailing?"

Mokuba froze. One could almost see the cogs in his head working on overtime. "Oh, um, it's just a letter..that..Yugi gave me for the guys back home. He's still outside with Hagrid, but he wanted it mailed A-S-A-P, and I ran into him on a break, so I volunteered."

Ryou smiled. "Oh. Would you mind taking this one for my Dad, then, as well?" He drew an envelope out of his pocket. "I realized last night that I had yet to tell him where I was." Mokuba could have sworn he heard Ryou mutter, "Not that he'll have noticed."

"Of course! Give it here, and I'll take it up."

Ryou swore he'd never seen Mokuba run so fast in his whole life.

Looking around the sandy tunnels that surrounded him, Malik sighed and took a brief break from translating the tablets in front of him. It figures I'd end up back in the same place I've always been trying to escape...

His sister, Isis, had been kind enough to take him back after the Battle City Escapade, and he'd been working for her since. However, most of that work entailed the excavating of tombs that reminded him all too much of his first home.

Which really hadn't been all that bad - his childhood had been rather pleasant, excluding, of course, a dozen or so horrific events which he had firmly blocked from his memory.

So, no - it hadn't been all that bad – it had been good, actually – at least until the Rod had started acting up. He'd kept it after Battle City, of course, because with Yugi and Atemu's help the Rod had been a key tool in keeping his alter ego in check - with the condition that he could never use it. He'd been warned that at this point, it would backfire on him and possibly trap him in the Shadow Realm if he so much as tried.

And like hell I want to be trapped there…this thing could be the death of me yet.

But the Rod worked its best magic while near him, so he'd kept it in its usual place at his hip.

But just a few weeks ago, his normally inactive item had taken up the audacity to 'zap' him in the middle of an excavation. It had burned his hand when he'd reached to grab it, and kept burning even after he'd let go. He'd fainted (though he retained with a sense of utmost dignity that he'd blacked out, thank you very much) from the excruciating pain, only to wake up the next morning, a picture of the Rod branded onto the undersides of his eyelids. He'd also had the unsettling feeling of wrongness and, quite faintly, disgust emanating from the item whenever he'd approached it from that point forward.

Unable to reach a solution, he'd gone to Isis for advice - something that he'd debated with himself over, sitting outside her chamber door, for nearly an hour.

She'd sprung into action, of course, at the first mention that he needed help. He'd been only too glad of this – he didn't know what he would have done had she taken the occasion to rub it in his face. They'd written the letter together, seeking aid or counsel of the recipient of the letter.

Not that Malik had any idea as to how that was supposed to help. But he did as his sister told him, nonetheless.

But three days passed, and even Isis had seemed at a loss as to what to do with the letter. She'd taken it to her chambers, poring over books of every shape, size, and age, looking for a ritual that would allow it to find help. Finally, at her wit's end, she'd simply demanded that Malik hand her the Rod. Putting two slender fingers to her own Tauk, she'd tapped the letter three times, eyes closed.

Malik had watched in pure and utter amazement as the letter folded itself, slipped into a nearby envelope, and flew out the window. He'd nearly scoffed, but had (in an unprecedented show of maturity) held his peace.

At this moment in time, he was exceedingly glad he hadn't said anything. The letter had returned, not only with a response (which was odd enough, seeing as it was carried by a large, snowy white owl), but with a response from Seto Kaiba.

Now he was completely sure the Rod was wanting for a new owner. Kaiba, whether he admitted it or not, was the reincarnation of Seth. He'd seen the tablets. Hell, they'd all seen the tablets; and yet, Kaiba continued to doubt.

Malik had problems recognizing how a person as intelligent as Kaiba could look proof square in the face and still refuse to acknowledge it's existence.

But he'd composed a letter all the same, saying he'd meet Kaiba at the KaibaCorp headquarters whenever the CEO had a bit of freetime. Since the owl (smart bird that it was) had chosen to stick around, he'd been able to send his response with the same owl, presumably back to Japan.

Malik decided not to dwell on that thought, instead beginning a plan that could just allow him to get away from the tablets long enough to grab a bit of lunch from the nearby marketplace. If he got the motorcycle to go fast enough before Isis actually saw him, she probably wouldn't follow.

Or, at least I hope she won't – I don't think I've ever seen a woman more frightening than sis when she's in a temper.

The door slammed open.

Malik twitched ever so slightly as he watched half a dozen black-robed figures stride into the room. He wasn't impressed, for all the talent that it took to slam a door open rather than shut.

"Who are you, and what gives you the right to interrupt my work?" he said coldly in his Native Arabic, eyeing each of the figures in turn. He fancied one of them flinched under his gaze.

The center of the figures removed his hood, revealing a pale face with nearly paler hair. Long and golden, it stood as a distinct mockery of Malik's own. Malik began to wonder, amidst all the overdone dramatics of the group, whether the man even spoke Arabic, let alone understood what he had just said.

His questions were laid to rest as the man responded in the same language. "We," he said, arm sweeping behind him, "Are the servants of the most feared and revered 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'." The man took a step forward, white teeth glinting in the lamplight. "We have a proposition from our master. Accept, and you may rule the world alongside him."

Malik came close to laughing. I've already tried that once, you ignorant buffoon, he thought, and if it didn't work then, it's certainly not going to work now. "Please inform your master that I have no interest in such a plan," he responded in the same cool and collected voice. Now all I have to wait for are the death threats, and I'll be well within the law of Egypt to destroy them all.

Sure enough, they came. The blonde man frowned. "If you will not comply to his demands, he shall kill you. I ask again; will you join us?"

Bring it on. "No; and I doubt your master has that much power, my friends. Now please, leave me in peace with my work," he said, turning towards the tablets yet again and fingering a blade in the pocket next to the Rod.

"Then we shall kill you."

That's what I thought. He heard a flurry of movement behind him, and whipped around, throwing two blades into the men nearest him. They both hit their mark, the bodies hitting the floor with a queer, echoing thump. He'd missed the leader, it seemed, which disappointed him.

It seemed, he realized as he surveyed the men around him, that they intended to fight him hand to hand, without weapons.

A foolhardy idea if he'd ever heard one. Malik refused to put himself under any such restraints, especially when outnumbered.

He stood on the axis of their half circle, every one of them pointing towards him, arms outstretched. With...sticks? Why the hell are they aiming at me with sticks?

What the hell are they thinking

The blonde man sneered, ignoring his fallen henchmen. He reached deeply into the folds of his robes. "I am required to ask you three times, fool. Will you join our master?"

Malik looked at them stonily, frantically grabbing for more knives in his pockets. "No."

Three identical beams of green light shot at him – and if Malik had learned one thing from his life, it came down to 'Dodge whatever malicious people shoot at you.'

So he dodged – and managed to lodge his three daggers in three throats at the same time.

Just as the fourth jet of light came towards him, hitting him full in the chest. He was dead before he so much as hit the ground, though a contented smirk stayed firmly on his face.

The blonde man, still unharmed, pulled a silver glove over his hand, grabbing the Rod with the adept fingers of a long-time thief. He vanished with a slight 'pop', just as Isis opened the door, toting a tray of food for her brother.

The tray crashed to the floor as her screams rang through the caves, and the bits of glass added themselves to the grotesque picture, the food and wine mixing with the robed mens' blood, an eerily green skull-and-snake emblem hovering above the entire grotesque scene.

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PS: May I just say that I really, really apologize for sucking at death scenes? I'm sorry.

Thank you to…..

DarkDaisy, AnitaTheShadowQueen, Rosedark, Crazy Hyper Lady, KamiKaze no Kage, Dreaming of Everything, PenPusherM, Akira Tosiyama, yllom21, Latin 101, Chelley Angel, Starlet36, Setoglomper, ComputerFreak101, Kenmeishouri, and Dreammistress Jade.