I was walking out of Muggle school, as usual, when something dropped out of the sky. And no, I'm not kidding and I'm not being a stupid delusional freak. It was a black notebook, looking harmless, until you read the title. 'Death Note' it says, and with all seriousness, I laugh. A death note seemed like a stupid prank, probably played by Dudley, and to someone who didn't even suspect he was a wizard, it just looked funny. But curiosity always killed the cat, and unlike a cat, humans only had one life, one very delicate life indeed.

Harry Potter and The Death Note idea from an anime named Death Note. keep in mind that characters in death note will be nonexistent in this fanfic (except for shinigamis).


He knocked on the door, once, and it broke down. Vernon was left staring at it with horror as Dudley crept upstairs, ready to abandon the rest of them if necessary. Petunia had a face of 'I told you so!' as she stared at the giant with fury that she usually only reserved for Harry. Harry sat quietly on the sofa solemnly as he stared at the fire in front of him with no trace of presence, not even flinching when the giant man called his name.

"Ah, there you are. Should've at least sent an owl back if yer were going on holiday yer'know. Happy Birthday anyway 'Arry." The man placed the chocolate cake on the table in front of the boy as Dudley edged near, licking his lips. The Dursleys huffed disapprovingly.

"What is the meaning of this! We shall not make him into even more of a freak and send him to freak school. What will I tell my neighbors when they come over to see my garden? He is already so much trouble, if you want to have him, keep him! Us 'normal' muggles don't want anything to do with you!" Petunia was at her limit, her long face red with anger as she yelled at the giant man. It was happening all over again. The special boy would be introduced into a world of fun, laughter and happiness, while the ordinary, ugly looking Dursleys were always left behind. One always said that the sky, the possibilities of being who you want to be, were limitless. Unfortunately for a muggle who was aware of that world, limited was only one way to describe it.

Confined was another. Knowing that a world so amazing was out there, knowing that you were physically unable to be in it, knowing that you ended up in such a sad way no matter how hard you try, was so confining. There was only so much Petunia could handle, and after waiting for so long for her Hogwarts letter to arrive, she had given up. The owl never came, and that was so more devastating than it sounds.

However, with such great power came such dire consequences. She should have known what not being normal would do to her. Petunia's bones would still rattle in annoyance at how stupid her sister was. Seriously, marrying a man, fighting along him in a war against Volewho, having a baby and then returning to war was something even a idiot muggle such as herself wouldn't do.

So she didn't.

Petunia didn't weep when her sister died. After all, she herself already died long before when the owl didn't come. That's why it was so easy to see Harry as one of them, not human, just an alien that didn't belong in her world. This belief only increased when he started acting weird when he was eight years old.

Nightmares. He screamed at night, begging someone to forgive him, sweating mad with guilt. Petunia believed this was the start of his 'wizarding puberty'. Vernon didn't find it funny at all and covered Harry's face with a bucket, sometimes going as far to kicking him out of the house for the night. Harry would always come back with dried up tears and bruised fists. After all the talk about being normal, Petunia thought he was taking it into his own hands and punishing himself. She praised him by giving a slice of bacon. Harry would then silently eat after thanking Petunia for her generous donation. They both knew there was nothing generous about it.

His posture. Not that it was bad already, but now it was even more horrible. Harry would hunch his back, and eat with only to very tip of his fingers, slowly gulping it down. He would hug his legs to his chest, and bury his face in his hands, as if to hide himself. He grew a fridge that covered most of his face. Petunia tried to cut it, of course, but much to her dismay it grew back again. Needless to say, she never tried again. Harry would never admit it, but he would slightly grin with triumph after Petunia shoved him out.

Silence. It was one of the worst things that the Dursleys, and probably everyone else on Privet Drive, ever committed. Even Petunia herself felt a twinge of pity, but shoved it underneath her jealously that reined her personality. Dudley was at school at the time, and that was probably for the best. After a concerned librarian calling Vernon to inform him that Harry was staying at the library after school and not talking to anyone else, he was angry. Not only did the librarian hint that she might think that they were mistreating him, but even called Dudley out describing him as 'an over obese bully that should improve his education skills'. Vernon was so angry that he sent Harry straight away to the cupboard after beating him with a hot pan that was just being used. The pain was so severe that Petunia had to nurse Harry, not that she did a good job of it, back to health. After that silence and only small amount of talking was the price, Petunia convinced herself, to pay for being different. He was too traumatized, beyond repair, many would say after pitifully leaving him flowers of 'Get Well Soon!' that Petunia would use to expand her garden. Little did they know that Harry was indeed beyond repair but even beyond their power. He was above all of them.

He was, no, is God.


"By the way, sorry for not telling yer, my name's Hagrid." The giant man, no Hagrid who just introduced himself, Harry observed, seemed a bit clueless. After Vernon pulled out a gun Hagrid used magic and they were out, leaving Dudley with a pig tail. He did know how to use magic, but according to the wizards and witches that passed by holding some stick thing, that would probably be used for magic more often. Which left him wondering- was Hagrid powerful? If he based this world in the fairy tale world of fiction magic books then he could deduce that the stick things were called wands, and maybe Merlin himself was a wizard. Even though Hagrid was probably powerful, which Harry adds would be quite disappointing, he was sure he could reach further. The covering of his face was even more suspicious. Were they hiding? Was Harry recognizable? Ah, then the Dursleys story about his parents would probably be false. Hagrid never confirmed it, quite happy to be away from those muggles, just as Harry was. Muggles seemed like a fitting term for something so judgmental and horrible.

They entered an small old pub that had rusted sign naming the place 'Leaky Cauldron'. Muggles that walked by didn't even notice as they hurried off to work. They place was a regular pub where adults would probably visit one in a while. Some ladies at the back with robes that shone in the dimly lighted place were chatting with fancy glasses of what it seemed to be red wine. Some men, also dressed in robes, were smoking long pipes on the side, casually leaning on some tables near a corner. A little man, barely able to reach Harry's waistline, was talking quietly to the old bartender, who had some grey sideburns and a pointy nose. As the boy was passing along with Hagrid, he accidentally bumped into the short man who was making his way to the door. His cover flew off, causing the short man to gasp in surprise.

"Hagrid! No time no see! The usual?" The bartender lifted his beer glass at Hagrid, gesturing him to come closer.

"Can't Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," he replied, turning around only to find an eerie silence. The whole pub was completely silent, all looking at Harry's now visible face. Suddenly all were shouting.

"Salazar, is that who I think it is?"

"God bless- he looks exactly like his dad."

"It's-"

"My god, it's Harry Potter!" The man, dressed in yellow, wobbled forward, his tooth jiggling in his mouth. He stared at Harry as if he was some exotic creature on display. Harry felt slightly uncomfortable, but didn't show it, only putting on a mask of blankness. The man raced forward and shook Harry's hand excitedly.

"Oh my, I got to touch the Harry Potter's hand! Thank you for saving this Wizarding World. You've done such a good deed for this world." The man then was shoved over, many others rushing forward to greet Harry.

"You must have had such a sad life without your pare-"

"You're going to Hogwarts right?"

"Thank you for being our savior! May god bless you!"

"The-boy-who-lived!"

It was needless to say, and pretty obvious, but Harry just really hoped that this wasn't what wizards and witched were reduced to- praising some child so highly as if they were god and asking about their dead parents. He really wished that they weren't like this, so foolish and ignorant for leaving him with such people- if you could even humanize them.


"Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr Potter... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great."

Harry slightly grimaced at the chance of being in the spotlight and waved back at the wandmaker as he left the store. Great things, yet terrible things. He felt the black notebook in his sleeve and smiled. Yes, he could work with that.


He was panicking. So much happened last week, so much that he could hardly keep track. Hagrid, the-boy-who-lived, that you-know-what parcel Hagrid gave to Gringotts, Voldemort killing his parents. Even after getting the Death Note, even after seeing that stupid shinigami, has Harry ever felt so overwhelmed. It felt insulting to his 'self-centered ego' that he apparently definitely had according to Ryuk. Speaking of Ryuk...

"Give me some apples. Come on, you were away for so long, finally come back, to just ignore me like that? Harrrrryyyyy." 'The ugly wiggly', a nickname that 8 year old Harry had come up with, was floating around him distractedly. He cackled after realizing Harry's annoyance, and proceeded to annoy him once more.

"You know don't you."

"Know what?"

"That I'm, that-" He tried to find the correct wording, stumbling on what he was trying to say, still not in reality of it. Yes, he knew something was wrong with him. How could he not, with floating toys from Dudley's room somehow ending up in his, his weird hair growing thing, and the Dursley's persistence that something was freaky about him. He just thought he was an abnormal child, one that would always be alone. He didn't care though. Why live in a world where he could never belong? He had long go by the quote that he would find his own place, build his own place where he was allowed to exist in. He never knew that a whole society that had been built ages ago was just waiting for him to turn 11. It was annoying how his childish desires was brought up, only to be crushed down by reality again.

He was the-boy-who-lived, the boy who would never be normal. He somehow defeated a Dark Lord that killed his parents, smart and brave, at the age of one. One. Year. Old. The idea of defeating someone at the age of that was impossible. Stupid and unbelievable, yet believable enough for the whole of the Wizarding World to praise him for his efforts. It was either his parents that defeated the Lord or Voldemort himself who did something stupid, maybe stepped on a Lego brick and cursed the Muggle who invented such a toy, before disappearing to mend his wounds.

The Wizarding World seemed determined to fact that Voldemort was gone and killed by him though, which was slightly disturbing and dangerous if Voldemort was still alive. If he was then, out of the sake of pride, would probably go after him first. Which was why Harry was so eager to go to Hogwarts.

Which was why Harry was panicking.

So, ummm, where was Platform Nine and Three Quarters? He sighed at his stupidity- obviously such a thing didn't exist and only magical people could find the station. If they knew where to look first.

Which Harry didn't.

So he stood in the middle of Platform Nine and Ten with his huge trolley and owl, shuffling his feet and reading his Potions book on the floor while Muggles that walked by stared at him. Harry wondered. What was the Draught of Living Death? How can something being living, yet dead? Would that be someone able to physically move, but not mentally think? How utterly disturbing and morbid, Harry thought, Ryuk laughing in the background, unconcerned about the question Harry asked him before. To be honest, Harry didn't really care either. The answer was painfully obvious.

"Excuse me," a deep voice drawled. Harry turned upwards, his eyes landing on a dark haired man that glared at him with such anger that he quivered. He stood up, dusting his hair in an attempt to fix it, and narrowed his eyes at the man, biting his lip to stop his desire to laugh and Ryuk's fail impression of the man in front of him.

"What do you think you're doing, Potter?"

Don't know why I came up with this, just that no one else did, and it sounded interesting. Sorry for all the time skips, just not bothered to recount the events you already know. I didn't mention Draco which means Harry didn't meet him yet. No characters from Death Note will be here, except for Ryuk as he's part of the plot, and maybe the other shinigamis.

Thanks for reading!