A.N

So… I have a reason this time.

A month ago, my dinosaur of a laptop breathed it's last breath, and I lost the original draft of chapter five, causing me to have to reconstruct the entire chapter from scratch. It was over three thousand words... gone.

I've gotten a new computer since then, and finally have it fully set up.

I've also had to separate the content originally planned for chapter five, into two chapters, as it didn't feel right now.

I guess second time around isn't always best…

I've also gotten a plan for how this story is set to go, so I should be able to write more often.

Hope you enjoy this short snippet, and sorry for my absence.

-O

(I don't own Harry Potter or Death Note.)

On a warm night, a young boy sat in the dark, his eyes glued to a glowing screen as images flashed past them. Words were shown, then flown by, as information near blasted itself forward to him.

"Kira", a mistranslated Japanese phrase taken from the term "killer."

The boy's eyes widened slightly, before his focus was resumed, as he began to type onto the screen, searching for his answers.

"Kira, serial killer…"

No results

His eyes narrowed, as he knew that there had to be something.

"Serial killer, criminals, Japan… "

A page loaded before his eyes, as he immediately pressed a button to translate the text. _

"Criminal deaths continue in ##### region"
December 10th, ####
Despite the best efforts of the Police and the famed detective ####, the mysterious criminal deaths have continued without pause.
As prisoners have now began to perish as well as the common thug, it appears no criminal is safe from the glare that has captured #####.
Is this the work of ####, the shadowy figure that's taken root within our very city.
Is #### un-

"Police, detective, criminal deaths, Kira…"

No results

"Japan, Kira, criminals deaths…"

No results

"Serial killer, Japan, criminal deaths…"

"### Agents to arrive in #####"

December 13th, ####

In response to the increasing rate of the #### killings, the ###### of ############ of the United States has issued one hundred agents to help investigate the matter of ####, and hopefully help find the killer himself.

They covered it up… whatever happened in Japan, and whatever happened to my… predecessor. They're not making it easy…

"###### TV in possession of #### tapes"
April 16th, ###4

In a shocking turn of events, the ###### Television station has received several video tapes supposedly from #### himself.
What is contained on said tapes remains to be seen, but from what the station says, the tapes will be aired but days from now.
For further news, remember to follow ######

"#### is ####"

#####, 1st, ####

After the years of terror, it has been formally announced that ##-

*#($ !)*(# L)(#

Just as he was about to leave the page, after seeing yet another article with just a portion of information and redacted text… static began to consume the screen of his phone.

He began trying to reset his phone, when the screen went dark, a sequence of beeps beginning to echo from the device.

Holding it far from himself, he attempted to turn the screen back on, only to see… to his fear, the same L symbol from before.

Then, the electronic voice command of his phone spoke an announcement, one that chilled him to the bone.

"Incoming call from… L"

Grand Library, Hogwarts

(September 4th, 2022)

"Harry mate, you do know we're supposed to be having lunch, right?" A chipper voice spoke out, drawing Harry's groggy attention away from the textbook he'd just been lounging on for the past hour.

Looking up, he noticed the tall, dark haired boy that had called his attention.

Michael Corner stood before him, long hair draping across his shoulders in the way that always annoyed his housemates. Even after a year, the little things about his dorm mate still stood out.

Michael didn't care.

"Yeah, I was just…" Harry muttered as he attempted to find some excuse for near-sleeping inside the library, none coming to mind besides exhaustion.

"You didn't sleep, did you Harry?" A small voice from his right side asked him as he turned to see the spacey blonde that had joined them just days before, a quirky grin on her slim face.

He sighed then, as the two of them were a match made in hell, as the two had decided that they were to be his best friends and barely left him a spare moment to himself.

It was… irritating.

"And how would you know that Luna?" Harry asked the girl, ignoring the extroverted boy that took a seat. Michael just smiled as he looked at the book that Harry had lost himself in. An early issue of Fantastic Beasts had been the book to put him to sleep, surprisingly.

At being addressed, Luna seemed to light up like a bulb, her eyes a cloudy blue as she looked at him… or through him.

"Well, other than the fact you look undead… you're covered in Wrackspurts," Luna said with a grin, as she looked at something that only she could see. "Either you didn't sleep, or you're thinking of someone."

Harry just shook his head at that and tried to be a little more… alive than he had been.

"Nah, can't be. Harry doesn't like people. He's barely said more than three sentences to me, or anyone else besides that Hufflepuff hangaround and Padma." Michael said faintly as he walked back from returning Harry's book, despite him not even noticing his absence.

"Hey… I like… people." Harry said halfheartedly, as he tried to defend himself, despite the fact that Michael spoke the complete truth.

"You verbally dissected Draco Malfoy and Ronald Weasley immediately after meeting them." Luna retorted, her idle fingers now trailing through Harry's wild hair, despite his silent protests. He'd known her for the better part of three days, but he already knew fighting her was useless.

"They're not people."

"You near flayed Lockhart when he attempted to take photos with you, not to mention his first class." Michael answered in tune, driving him forward again.

"How do you even know about that?"

"I was in the bookstore with my mother, you were just too busy with Granger to notice." Michael teased as he watched Harry closely, it being a favorite pastime of his to lightly mock the younger boy.

Harry was often teased about the girl's near devotion, though he wasn't in the mood most days to be a cult leader, the barbs only serving to irritate him further. Fortunately, the Ravenclaws didn't often get free time for which to mock him.

"You and I both know Harry doesn't like Hermione…" Luna said lightly, as her eyes now focused on Michael and his grinning face, the boy's perfect teeth on full display.

There was something unnatural about Michael, that Harry was sure of.

"Then who does he like?"

"Harry's in love with Professor McGonagall of course!" Luna said in a singingly manner as she giggled in her own way, the light in her eyes dancing in glee at his displeasure.

Harry just sighed once more, and quickly jinxed her hair invisible before standing to his feet.

Hauling his bag over his shoulder, he didn't even look at them as Michael began to laugh, Luna only looking on in a confused way. Harry assumed she wasn't always aware of her actions, or how they would be received.

"Was it something we said?" She asked, her face sincerely wracked in shock.

"Don't look for me."

Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom, Hogwarts

(September 17th, 2022)

"Once again Harry, it is so kind of you to assist me." Gilderoy Lockhart said jovially as he continued the task of stacking his own novels on the aged bookcase before him.

Said boy in question merely rested against the far wall of the classroom, his forest green eyes locked on the blonde man in disdain, of which the man was oblivious to.

"You're holding me hostage here, there's a difference between consent and obligation, though I'm sure you're very familiar with that distinction, aren't you sir?" Harry rebuked, as the rumors surrounding the man were brought back to light.

The man's reputation wasn't pure, especially among the brighter of Hogwart's students, those that weren't blind sheep.

"Regardless of that, I'm sure you're learning a lot from this detention, aren't you Harry?" Lockhart asked, a near condescending tone slipping into his voice, Harry's blood boiled from just the sound of it.

Harry didn't like smug people, despite his hypocrisy.

"Oh yes professor, I've learned over fifteen secrets of yours, and ten different ways to get a professor fired from a position of power." Harry said nonchalantly, as if he were simply discussing the weather, rather than threatening the man before him.

Lockhart narrowed his eyes at that, and near slammed the door to the room open, his nostrils flaring now as that damned smile stood stalwart on his reddening face.

"I believe that's enough for tonight Mister Potter, you're free to go…"

"I couldn't agree more." Harry said with a grin, as he gathered his things, and stepped out of the classroom.

However, he didn't notice a slight sound, and a flash of light.

"Obliviate …"

"God… is that you?" An echoed voice spoke in the darkness, as shadowy figures danced before Harry's eyelids, a sense of disconnection shrouding his mind in sleep.

Before he could even comprehend what was said, or even where he was, a sharp sensation began to spread throughout his mind.

The feeling of thousands of hooks began to tear apart his mind, dragging him into the dark abyss that waited before him, only a spark of light meeting his dead eyes.

Then, life blossomed in the inky darkness, as soft words began to process in his mind.

"Were you asleep?"

Far below Hogwarts...

"Soon my dear, everything will be ready." A soft voice spoke in the wide expanses of the chamber, a shaky figure of a youth stood facing a large sculpture of a man long dead.

To the side of the ghostly apparition, a short child stood, a black tome held within their tight embrace.

"What do I do next?" A quiet question came from the younger of the two, a chuckle coming from the other.

The teen moved towards them then, and placed his transparent hands upon their face, a twisted sheen coming into his eyes.

"Just follow my instructions… okay?" He asked them, as a small nod was given to him.

He smiled then, a wicked and corrupt smile, one that spoke of a being that had taken lives and would take more. A monster within flesh, albeit trapped within a spiritual frame.

It was temporary of course, but that was to be settled soon…

"Bring Harry Potter to me."

Did you enjoy?

If I had to describe my writing style in three words, it would be thus.

"To. Be. Continued."

Good night all.

-Oscar