Author's Corner: This is not something that I would usually write. I usually like to keep characters in their respective universes, and I only like a few crossovers. However, I lost a bet with some of my friends. The consequence was that I had to write a crossover of two stories of their choice, and they were going to try to pick two groups that just didn't seem to go together. So I got Death Note and Harry Potter.
They're hoping that this story gets no reviews so that they can snicker at me.
I just know it.
It's a good thing I like L, even if Death Note wasn't my favorite of stories, simply because I hate it when my favorite character dies. Harry Potter did the same to me. Most irritating...I mostly only watched the thing to watch L and Light dance in circles around each other. Also, I kind of liked Light's 'oh crud' faces sometimes. I loathed Light with the fury of a thousand suns...
Fortunately, the terms were I had to write a crossover where L went to Hogwarts with multiple chapters. They didn't say anything else or specify any kinds of terms, so I can play with it as I see fit. Hopefully, this won't turn into some mess of cliché 'LOLZ L is goin 2 hogwartz!1!one!elevenzies' crud. While I've actually never see one of those stories, and I see how it can turn into trash very quickly...
L and Harry are the principle characters, but this isn't LxHarry. At first L is going to be basically the only Death Note character present other than references or minor parts (And of course Wammy) at first, but I will add more as the books go on, mostly children from Wammy's House, but Light and Misa might turn up as well at some point. As far as pairings go, I'm currently playing with the idea of LxHermione and HarryxLuna, but that's just up for subjection and I'll listen to suggestions other than yaoi. As anyone who's read me before knows, I don't like it, I can't write it, and I just don't get it. It's not my fetish. I have a brainwashing thing. Also, while an L/harem sounds amusing, and I know plenty of girls who'd enlist, I won't write it.
I am going to attempt to treat this like a serious story complete with plot, subplots, twists and everything else, and I will attempt to show off all characters as realistic rather than just bash everyone that I don't like. While this is a crossover, I believe that it can be both interesting and worth reading.
I hope I keep up to standards and everyone enjoys.
Disclaimer: Pryotra owns neither Death Note nor Harry Potter. If she did, L would have beaten Kira without having to write his name in the Death Note, and Voldemort might have just been a good guy to even the eleven-year-olds nightmares.
Now, without further ado.
L Lawliet and the Prisoner of Azkaban
There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning.
L was dead.
This was not a difficult thing for him to realize. He had seen Raito's face grinning horrifically at him and felt the pain as his heart suddenly gave out. Besides, if he wasn't dead, he would still be sitting in with the Taskforce.
He had been right all along, but he had lost anyways. Blast his second guessing himself constantly. He should have just believed his instinct. This wasn't the first time that this had happened. What was worse what that it had cost not only his life but Wammy's too. He had expected his own death, but Wammy's...had not been in his plans...
When would he learn to trust his instincts before he allowed something to happen that he couldn't prevent?
He had known B was trouble all along too. Just the reports that he had received had made him almost certain, but that hadn't stopped him from allowing him to be educated. He hadn't had the proof.
Well, although it was irritating, Raito was going to be the one to rue this day and opening this can of worms.
L had left a little surprise behind for him.
Wammy's House was busily grooming his successors, and would be notified immediately. Was Raito stupid enough to think that L wouldn't have prepared for his own death? Or was it that Raito himself had, at some level, started to honestly believe that he was a god and immortal and because of that believed that everyone thought that way? He had come across people like that before.
L had chosen M and N as his successors already, although he hadn't actually told them that they were both his successors, and he wanted them to work together. No one person could have surpassed him, and L had prepared for his death knowing this. M and N had been chosen, not because of the 'nasty look in their eyes' as he had told them, but because they didn't idolize him. They respected him but more as a rival than as anything else. That was what was necessary in order to succeed him. L didn't want a clone. He didn't want another B. He wanted someone who could surpass him. Someone who wouldn't have the same weaknesses as he had
The others looked up to him too much for them to be able to deal correctly with criminals. Justice was difficult because it dealt with people, and people made mistakes, and people weren't just good or just evil. Even worse, people could get drunk on their own power. Even someone like L. He had even prepared for that.
M and N could, if necessary, deal out justice to L himself. With his pronouncement that day, they would feel no remorse. After all, if he only took cases that interested him and didn't care about justice, they were doing something that interested them. It would even out.
It was perfect, and it spelled out Kira's end.
Lies were useful things. Even if M was more likely (sixty-two percent) to know better, he was also more likely to fail. L would have rather the two had worked together, but there was only a ten percent chance of that happening due to the rivalry between them. Maybe that was why he had spoken to M and not N. N had a higher probability of winning their rivalry (eighty-seven percent), therefore it was only just for M to have something that N would never have in return.
And if L believed in anything, it was justice.
L looked around again in taking in as much as he could, but there wasn't a whole lot to take in. He was standing in what seemed to be either a large room or the darkness of hell, but there was a floor, and it was cold. He could apparently still feel which was interesting.
But where was he? Where those killed by the Death Note as well as those who used it condemned to being unable to enter heaven or hell? That hardly seemed right. Then again, for a shinigami to drop the Death Note anywhere he wanted was hardly fair either. For a man to kill fifteen people and walk away on grounds of insanity wasn't fair. For a child to be shunned and beaten because he was 'freaky' was another example of the injustice of life.
It appeared that that carried on into the afterlife. L had been hoping that that wouldn't be true.
"L Lawliet, a very deep, penetrating voice boomed from no real direction, causing L to straighten slightly and shift his eyes around. Nothing. Everything was dark, "I am going to make a deal with you."
L slumped forwards again, and stuck his hands in his pockets, "I will assume that you are in charge of the other shinigami. Where am I?"
"I am what you humans would call Death," the voice said, it sounded like it was slightly enjoying this, but it was hard to tell, "I am what you would consider the father of the shinigami, as incorrect as the case may be. You, Lawliet, are between heaven and hell. Everyone comes here first when they die and gets sent on. Under any other circumstance, you'd have been sent on to purgatory. You haven't exactly been a saint but you're not downstairs worthy either...management's gotten lenient lately...but this is a special case..."
So he spawned them. L found himself with the mental picture of the cell reproducing but doubted that that was quite the right image. He wasn't all that interested in how shinigami reproduced, and the knowledge would probably end up making him want to get his hands on a sugar bowl to remove the taste of bile anyways. It was also very possible that shinigami were those who had used a Death Note in their lifetimes.
It would be a clever way to deal with the rising population, and since you were only doing this with mass murderers, it evened out.
L was slightly surprised about purgatory. He would have expected something a little...hotter...in store for him. L didn't lie to himself. He was ruthless once he knew that someone had committed the crime, and he certainly believed that the ends justified the means. He would do almost anything to get the confession that he wanted.
It was hard to say when he had actually stopped caring about people outside of philosophy and justice. It was just something else that L had lost along the way. After all, the strength of L's ability as a detective was that L had no attachments and was perfectly willing to do anything, even things that weren't necessarily legal, to get the job done. Interpol didn't care much. They just wanted their criminals caught, and L didn't care what he became. As long as justice was served and people were able to live in a degree of peace, he was happy. After all, after his first case, L had dived head first into the worse side of humanity, and vowed to fight until he died.
"So you are responsible for the Death Notes as well," L said, ignoring the use of his original name and his own thoughts. It had been years since he had thought of himself as Lawliet, and it had little meaning to him that wasn't sentimental. He was simply L now. It wasn't like anyone had known 'Lawliet' anyways.
"Yes, the shinigami king boomed, "It is my responsibility to regulate who dies and to keep balance and keep with Fate's dictates. While it is amusing to allow my children to play in the human world, they sometimes throw things so out of balance that I am forced to do something. That is why you are here."
L was silent.
"You should have died at the age of sixty-seven with a long, successful career behind you, and a wife and children mourning your passing. Your untimely death has upset Fate so badly that I am being forced give you up. I don't like it when this happens. I make my record look terrible, and then everyone else starts snickering at me. It's getting almost as bad as when Pestilence lost a bet with Chaos. He still hasn't heard the end to that one, and now Chance is starting to get snarky and I think that...oh...ahem..."
The booming had been going down as the shinigami king spoke, and L suspected that the shinigami king was far less impressive than he sounded, and probably had some kind of impressive shell that hid the fact that he was an ordinary looking shinigami or even something that looked relatively like a person.
"You will be brought back to life," the shinigami king continued, acting like that little rant hadn't happened, "And back in time."
"Before my death," L said, "I don't see that that will give me the time to do anything even if I do understand what is going to happen..."
"No, I mean to a much further time back, and you are not permitted to remember anything. Those are the rules for this kind of emergency. Management is very strict. I would bend the rules, but my record looks so bad right now..."
"But the probability of everything reoccurring the same way is ninety-eight point seven percent,
L pointed out, "Such a rule is illogical."
Laughter filled the entire dark space that L was in, and he felt a chill creep down his spine.
"One who as entered this place is given certain gifts and Fate is already on your side, boy. As is Chaos for some reason. I guess she's not really into Destruction. The Death Note was used to alter Fate's desires and has made Chaos have to work with Destruction and Despair a little too much for her liking, so the two of them will make sure that you are given everything you need to face Kira. All you need to do is win. I'll be watching you, L Lawliet. You had better make your life interesting for me in gratitude for the embarrassment that I've suffered."
It felt like the floor had just dropped out underneath him. L was falling into darkness, it seemed like ages were passing and...
Lawliet opened his eyes and sat up, staring into space for a good fifteen minutes before starting to move. The twelve year old boy listened, but didn't hear the sound of Wammy. He apparently had gone out and hadn't come back yet. That was annoying. Almost as annoying as the fact that he had had to eat a normal meal the previous night. Wammy sometimes seemed to think that his habits were unhealthy for some reason.
That kind of food always knocked Lawliet out like a light. It seemed that the only things that he could eat without his brain using up all of the energy and him ending up in a stupor had a very high sugar content. That and sugar always got rid of the bitter taste in his mouth.
That was the best part of it!
He stumbled over to the small hotel fridge and started took out a large slice of cake, happily devouring it. He felt better already. It was a good thing that there was some left from the previous day.
He was ready to work again.
Lawliet was a small boy, looking even smaller due to the fact that he usually wore oversized clothing because they were more comfortable. His black hair was perpetually unbrushed and his eyes were always tired and encircle by rings so dark it looked like he was wearing mascara. He lived in various hotels around the world while he and his...well Lawliet supposed you could call him his handler, solved mysteries.
Lawliet was also known to the world as simply L.
Technically, Lawliet didn't have a last name since no one knew who his parents were. He had been brought to the orphanage where he had lived until eight by some bum who had found him in a dumpster. The man hadn't had a clue what the infant's name was, but he had gotten the honor of naming the infant that he had found. Who knew that some bums had a romantic streak? Lawliet had been known as that until he met Wammy and solved his first case and received his letter.
He was now referred to as L Lawliet, but he had been Lawliet for so long that, deep down, he still thought of himself as that. Wammy told him that that was possibly dangerous since he might accidentally call himself Lawliet instead of L, but Lawliet was careful.
After all, he didn't trust anyone.
Also, he almost never let people see him. For one thing, the police might get a little upset about the idea of a twelve-year-old solving some of their most difficult cases. For another, as he was one of the best detectives in the world, anyone who knew who he was could kill him.
Lawliet walked over to the desk where a laptop was waiting and sat down, sitting with his legs drawn into himself and his hands on his knees. It was one of the best ways to sit. The other was a crouch. Any other way made him feel slow and stupid. There were some files and cases that L hadn't finished looking at still up, and L wished that he could get on the Internet but couldn't without making Wammy unable to contact him.
He would just have to do things the old fashioned way.
It was a difficult case, involving a series of seemingly unconnected murders. It was made to look like a simple serial killing, but really it was a cover up for a large crime organization. If Lawliet was able to find just one more piece of evidence, he would have his case. All he had to do was prove that the pleasant looking hotel was the base ground for the operation, and he would be done.
He leaned over the papers, reading over them again. Even if he had a very good memory he liked to be sure. After all even photographic memories had a sixteen percent chance of failing to catch something very important if you only looked at something once. Lawliet traced a line with this finger and leaned forwards again. It might be a lonely life, but there were worse things.
After all, by the age of seven, Lawliet had decided that it was better to die of exhaustion than to die of boredom.
Quilish Wammy sometimes wondered if he was an evil person.
One of those times was when he was driving down the road looking at a small group of children playing in an arcade. Perhaps L should have been one of those children playing there. Happy, carefree, without cases to solve or the sins of humanity to think about. It was a thought that brought guilt into the old man's mind. He had been the one who had pushed Lawliet into becoming L after the bombings... Then again, if L had been there, those children wouldn't have anything to do with the poor boy. He still remembered how he had found him.
L's intelligence was astounding. His ability to take in information, remember, and focus were off the chart, but the cost of this amazing intelligence was that he was completely alienated him from everyone around him. He intimidated everyone with his strange habits and expressionless face. Even Wammy was never sure just what was going on behind those dead black eyes of his. Eyes that had learned all too soon that the world was unjust and had adapted by taking in all light around it, and refusing to allow anything to come out. Knowing that he could never change the world, but he could keep some things from getting out of control. No, L simply couldn't exist like a normal person. That was the price for genius, and L didn't seem to mind much.
Yet, he felt almost as if he was taking advantage of L's isolation to mold him into the perfect machine. L had been perfectly willing, but...still...perhaps he should insist that the boy return to Wammy's house and be surrounded with people that were at least somewhat like him.
No, they idolized him there, and L, being naturally shy and disliking people fawning over him, would avoid everyone and shut himself in his room as much as possible.
The problem was that L's isolation was a weakness. While the fact that L had no attachments made him impossible to manipulate, it also meant that if someone got close enough to him, it wouldn't be hard to get L to grow feelings for that person. Quite simply, L was lonely, even if he didn't know it himself. If L was only able to meet people his own age who were themselves isolated and outside of society but didn't know who he was, and wouldn't put him in the spotlight...
Wammy smiled to himself a little. He was thinking like some kind of concerned parent. Well, he had promised that he would always support L, ever since that day four years ago. He supposed that after a while, he had stopped looking at L like an invention that he must learn to copy and started to see him as a child that he had to protect.
Maybe that was why he spoiled the boy so much and allowed him to eat pretty much nothing but sweets, or maybe he wasn't so much of a father that he felt comfortable with restricting L's rather strange diet. He seemed to function well with it though. Give him a cake, and he could work for two days without sleeping, three if necessary, and more if he took hour naps in between.
Wammy pulled up his car into a vacant place in front of one of the police stations and got out, walking into the station. He was here to give a written conclusion to a written case. Some cases had to be done in complete secret, lest people tapping phone lines or plants in the station overhear things. L got many of those.
A few people looked up as Wammy walked in and past the desk. No one bothered to challenge him. They didn't really know who he was, but they knew that he was allowed to come and go as he pleased. The inside of the station was something of an office room. A lot of people in cubicles or cluttered desks with talking and complaining about their jobs.
As he passed by a young woman, well everyone seemed young to him nowadays, he caught a little bit of a conversation.
"-And now there's this Sirius Black person running around," she was sighing to her friend. "I'm telling you, I know why turned out to be a nutter. Anyone named that must have been teased every day of his life."
Her friend laughed and leaned on his desk, "You have a point," he nodded, "I'll tell something strange though. When looked up a little about this Black guy, I didn't find any kind of information. Maybe he's some kind of top secret case."
"You mean like the kind that never gets on the record because they would hurt the government or something?"
"Yeah, and now he's out,"
"That would be interesting, but why are we after him."
"So that it looks like a normal case, and to make sure that the public's safe, so that the greats can work without worrying."
Wammy was interested, if not in their speculations, but the fact that this 'Sirius Black' didn't exist on the records. He had heard him mentioned as an armed criminal who had escaped on the radio. Maybe he should do some checking of his own.
After an hour of sitting in the same position, eating cake and reading reports, Lawliet heard the door unlock.
He looked up as Wammy entered.
Wammy, Walmsley for the moment, was an elderly man who had a very kind looking face, white hair and seemingly inexhaustible resources. His grandfatherly disposition hid the fact that he was actually a very brilliant man by himself and extremely capable at many unpleasant things. He had lived through WWII as a child, losing his family in the Blitz, and at the war's end, he had sworn that he would never allow such a monstrosity to exist again. He had founded the prestigious Wammy's House, an orphanage for exceptionally brilliant children, as well as several other orphanages around the world that functioned to care for children in a better environment than most. He now acted as Lawliet's sole human companion, and had done so for one year now.
Lawliet, unlike most Wammy's students, had only stayed in the school for a year. Wammy had gone with him, saying that he would help Lawliet solve his cases from now on. Ever since then, Lawliet had been the famous detective L and Wammy had been the only way that anyone could ever speak to him unless L hacked into someone's computer. Sometimes L wondered just why Wammy had chosen to live like this, and if he actually liked L, or simply needed him.
"Good morning, Walmsley," Lawliet said in his usual soft monotone voice that was far too advanced for any child in its vocabulary and diction.
Wammy took no notice of the fact that Lawliet would have unnerved most people with that simple greeting, and greeted him as if Lawliet had greeted him in a bright, chipper voice.
"Good morning, L," He said, smiling at the boy, "I have some interesting news for you."
"What would that be?" Lawliet said. He was curious, but his face didn't show it. It remained in emotionless and his eyes stayed dead, though they were wider than usual.
"I was at one of the stations, getting those papers you asked for, when I heard a strange rumor. You might find it interesting," Wammy handed him a file that Lawliet took, holding it very delicately between his thumb and index finger.
He opened it to see a few reports and what looked like bad picture of a man in his early to mid-thirties, although he looked older. He was pale and thin, with an elbow length tangle of black hair and a dark, haunted look in his gray eyes. There was also something else, something...terribly hateful in them.
"Sirius Black," Lawliet said, looking at the picture, "Escaped sometime this month, but the media is being quiet about where he came from. There's no record of him that I've found. I had wondered if there was something wrong."
"The information about him seems to have come from the Prime Minister," Wammy said, sitting down in another chain, facing Lawliet, "But he seems to have appeared out of nowhere. Also, when I discussed the case with the chief of police, he said that the Prime Minister was hoping that you would be interested and help him. Would you like me to contact him."
"It's interesting," Lawliet said, "But I usually don't get involved with these sorts of cases as L. Dewey might take on a case like this, but L only gets involved when there have been ten murders or a million dollars."
Wammy smiled, "The Chief said something about the man killing thirteen people."
Lawliet looked at the photograph, his curiosity aroused, and wanting to take the case. True, it seemed a little like the PM was just trying to bait him into coming because it was hard, but...
"Something about this case seems like it's not as clear cut as it sounds," Lawliet said after a moment. "I'm...interested..."
"I'll get in touch with the Prime Minister as soon as possible," Wammy said, preparing to go, "Oh, and the Bertriam's Hotel murders?"
"Finished," Lawliet said, holding up a sheet of paper to Wammy.
"Then I'll prepare things from this case."
"Thank you, Whamsley," Lawliet looked back at the screen, and began to look up files and research for his next case.
How was he to know that this was a case that he was never supposed to have taken?
Somewhere, Fate smiled.
It was the first good news that the Prime Minister had had all month.
When the Minister of Magic had just decided that he wanted to visit, The Prime Minister had known that things were going to be bad for the month. For one thing, it was tiring to be treated like you were an inferior species who his superiors had to tolerate, and for another, he was at the disadvantage. He had been forced to make this announcement, but, thankfully, it had attracted the attention of the one person who could help.
It had only been four years since L had been heard of, but that case, the Winchester Mad Bombings, had almost started WWIII. No one had been able to even begin to solve the case before he came out of nowhere, with all the answers and the proof they needed.
After that, L's name had been like stating that a living Deus ex Machina. If L was involved, the case would be solved.
Now Whamsley, a man known as many different things over the world, and the only person who could contact L, had appeared.
The Prime Minister couldn't wait for the two sides to meet.
He stood in front of the portrait, with Whamsley behind him, setting up a laptop.
Clearing his throat, the Prime Minister looked at the man, "I would like to speak to the Minister of Magic." He said, "It's rather...urgent"
"It had better not be something to do with a war. Churchill tried that. We don't get involved in your business," The portrait said.
"It's about this Black person," The Prime Minister said, "I have someone who might help you find him."
The portrait looked unconvinced, "I'll see if he wants to talk to you."
Oh yes, because the Minister of Magic can't waste his time with just anyone. Even if he comes popping in here whenever he felt like it.
The Prime Minister looked over to Whamsley, who was looking at the painting with a raised eyebrow. "You said that it would be difficult to believe, but I didn't know how right you were."
The Prime Minister sighed, "This has to be kept secret. Do you know what would happen if other people found out about this kind of power?"
"I can imagine," Whamsley said, "Don't worry, everything in this room will remain secret."
The Prime Minister nodded as the fire turned green.
Fudge didn't look all that different from the first time he had ever seen him. He was still wearing his green bowler hat, and looked a little irritable. He looked at the Prime Minister and huffed slightly.
"Really, Sir," Fudge said, "Being dragged away like this. I hope you weren't lying about Black."
"No," The Prime Minister smiled, "My actions, as unexplained as they were, caught the attention of the best possible person for this kind of case. He's never failed to solve one."
"Well, that might be true for Muggle criminals, but-" Fudge started, but was interrupted by the mechanical voice on the computer.
"Greetings. I am L."
Fudge almost jumped a foot in the air and looked at the computer with horror. Somewhere in the conversation it had turned on. It wasn't impressive looking. Just a white screen with a Gothic black-letter 'L' emblazoned on it, but the Prime Minister knew that symbol, as most people involved with the law or politics. No one in their right mind would have copied it. Even as a joke.
"Is that...a person?" He asked.
"If I were not a person, I could not my holding this conversation with you," The mechanical voice said, and the Prime Minister smiled, "I assume you are the client?"
"I'm..." Fudge began, but was starting to reach into his pocket for something.
The Prime Minister grabbed his hand, "This is Cornelius Fudge, a man who calls himself...the Minister of Magic."
There was a silence.
"Had I not seen this man walk out of the fireplace, I wouldn't believe you, but as it is, I will suspend my disbelief for the moment. I am contacting you because I have heard of the sudden escape of Sirius Black who has, up until now, no history whatsoever, but is credited for the deaths of thirteen people. I am willing to offer my services and hear more of this...interesting case."
Fudge looked irritated.
"I don't need the help of a Muggle Pleaseman to help with these matters," he muttered.
"What an offensive sounding name," the voice said, "and obviously you do need our help. After all, why would you have contacted us if it was a matter that you could deal with quickly. I assume that you and your government have existed for some time. If you had the chance to catch him without our knowledge, you would have by now. When Whamsley spoke to the Prime Minister, he seemed very happy that he could offer some kind of assistance on this operation. Wouldn't it be rude to ask for someone's help but not accept the help that they offer?"
The Prime Minister was smirking. Honestly it was fun to watch Fudge looking so uncomfortable.
"As Minister Fudge does not seem like he can answer my questions, can you tell me what the details are of this case as far as you know them, Prime Minister?" L asked him.
"Yes," The Prime Minister nodded, "From my understanding, this Black has escaped from a Wizard prison, through means unknown and possibly with aid. His goals are, at the moment unclear, but Fudge seems to think that he is going to be heading into London, or more particularly, the Surrey area."
"I see. Minister Fudge, is there a particular motive that this Black has?"
Before Fudge could answer, the empty fireplace lit itself again, and another man walked through. The Prime Minister hadn't seen him before, but he looked like he would have to be a Wizard. Everything from his long beard, crooked nose, and half-moon spectacles to his long robes gave him an impression of Merlin.
"Hello, Cornelius," the newcomer said, amiably, "I wanted to speak to you about some of your security measures and found a note saying you had gone to meet the Prime Minister. I hope everything is alright."
"Everything...is...fine..." Fudge said, and the Prime Minister got the feeling that the man didn't much like the newcomer, "The Prime Minister...was just...offering to help us...with one of those...detector things...I was going to refuse of course."
"Why do that?" the newcomer asked, "Surely there's no harm he can do. Is this the man?"
He turned towards Whamsley.
"No, this is Whamsley, my helper," L said.
The newcomer started almost as much as Fudge and looked at the computer with interest. The Prime Minister supposed that they used crystal balls or something. Obviously neither had ever seen a computer before.
"Remarkable," Dumbledore said, "I forget that Muggles are always coming up with new substations for magic. It's a little impolite of you to have us at such a disadvantage. Would you mind coming over so that we can talk?"
Before the Prime Minister could do anything, the man had taken a stick out of his hand and pointed it at the computer.
"Accedo!" The man said, pointing the stick at the computer.
It looked like a tunnel had opened up through it, and from that tunnel a figure was thrown into the room.
It was a boy. No more than thirteen, sprawled out on the carpet like some kind of deformed frog.
"L!" Whamsley said, rushing over to help the child up.
"What the-" the Prime Minister began, but never finished. The newcomer had already pointed the stick at him.
And he knew no more.
Lawliet was in a position that he would not have thought possible an hour ago.
He had been thrown through his own computer into the office of the Prime Minister, who was now unconscious, and he was facing two people who had just shown abilities that looked like...
Lawliet did not believe in magic. He hadn't even particularly believed in Father Christmas, other than maybe in some kind of 'spirit of Christmas' sense when he was a child. Life was logical. Life had rules. Magic, if it existed, would be a way to break the rules, but it would have to have rules of its own. In fact, any kind of technology would be magic to someone who didn't know what it was. It was as simple as that.
Unfortunately, these thoughts were now rather hollow as he sat staring at the stick that was being pointed at him and the gun that Wammy was pointing at the man.
Lawliet knew that Wammy had a gun on him at all times, but this was one of the rare times that he had seen him take it out. Usually, he was left alone, but Wammy had taught Lawliet to shoot fairly well and, of course had started teaching him a martial art that was some kind of hybrid of capoeira and other styles the Lawliet only vaguely knew about.
"Fancy seeing you here, Quilish," the bearded old man with the stick said with a smile, "We seem to be in something of a stalemate."
"It's an unexpected pleasure, Albus," Wammy said, not moving the gun, "It's been some time since I've accidentally crossed paths with your world."
Albus looked over at Lawliet, and smiled a little bit. Honestly, the man reminded Lawliet somewhat of Wammy, when he had first met him at the age of eight. Friendly, well intentioned, but aloof and perfectly willing to do anything for what he thought was right. That determination was well hidden by a kindly manner and grandfatherly appearance, but it was there. While Lawliet knew that the man was to be respected, he was also to be watched carefully.
"So, this is your latest project?" he asked, "You always surprise me, but there's little you can do to help in this world."
"You would be surprised, Albus," Wammy smiled back.
"I do keep up with the Muggle news, and I know that L is supposedly an exceptionally good detective, but his methods don't work here. He would have to investigate in person, and his background would only hinder him."
"Then I will work in person under a false name," Lawliet shrugged. He was starting to get tired of being talked about like he wasn't there.
"Yes, but you'd have to have magic," Fudge said shortly, "and since you haven't-"
But Albus held up one hand to stop him.
"Quilish...has L here been in one place for over six months since he turned ten?"
Wammy smiled slightly.
"Why, Quilish, I believe you've been hiding something from me," He said, looking hurt, "If you thought there was a possibility, you should have allowed him to be educated here."
"What the devil is going on?" Fudge said, looking angrily back and forth between the two men.
Wammy turned to Lawliet.
"L, how much do you want to accept this case?" he asked.
"It's interesting, and the fact that I am being denied is making it more interesting. I would not have given the case the time that I am sixty percent sure it will take under normal circumstances. There are other cases that are pressing," Lawliet said, looking over at the two...strangers, "but the abilities that have been displayed are simply to interesting for me to walk away now."
Wammy nodded, "I thought so," he said and turned to Albus, "Albus, I will let you test him, but if you use a different spell..."
"How dare you threaten Dumbledore!" Fudge was starting to look irate.
"Cornelius," Albus said, raising one hand, "He's perfectly justified in his fears given the last time we met. I assure you, Quilish, I will only check your student. You have nothing to fear."
Wammy seemed satisfied and nodded.
Lawliet decided that if Wammy was alright with this, he wouldn't try to fight. He faced the wand calmly and didn't flinch as he heard something being said in what sounded like garbled up Latin.
A beam of gray light hit Lawliet in the chest, and for a moment he felt warm. Then he saw another light, this time a cold blue starting to appear along his skin the patterns of his veins. Lawliet stared for a moment at the white blue light that was mapping his body and looked up at the two men. The one with the green bowler hat, Fudge, was somewhere between being shocked and being livid. The other man, Albus, was smiling, his eyes twinkling, and Lawliet could tell that Albus was trying to factor him into some plan that he had already had.
"Just remember, Albus," Wammy said, stepping up, "He isn't quite your student. L is only to investigate the matter of Sirius Black from a position where he will be considered uninteresting. Since it is an unofficial law that all children go to your school, L will attend. I would like it if he could visit as often as he could. There is a great deal of work that must be done."
Fudge started to splutter.
"You can't just- Not- He'll see on the holidays like any other student," He said, spit flying from his mouth.
"He's not a normal student, Cornelius." Albus sighed, "I probably should have told you this to begin with. Quilish and I met some time ago, during the Muggle's Second World War and our war with the Dark Lord Grindlewald. We ended up somewhat stranded together in enemy territory, and we ended up talking a little. You really do end up talking a great deal to people you don't know if you're trapped with them. Quilish said that he wished to keep the war from ever being repeated, and that he would raise young geniuses from the world over with his ideals so that the most brilliant men and women alive would seek peace. If Quilish has decided to work personally with this boy, he will be a very unique student to have. Quilish, I cannot be overly favoristic towards your young charge, but I'll make sure that L can come to see you frequently. I'll allow him to floo to see you at frequent intervals."
"Would this be possible to do every night?" Lawliet asked, taking part in the conversation for the first time, "If this is 'magic' I would hope that it can be done. Do not worry about my getting enough rest. I will not trouble your classes."
"Well then," Albus said, smiling genially, "Welcome to Hogwarts, my dear boy."
And Chaos laughed.
Well, this is a little short, but it's sort of a prologue, so I hope you can forgive me. I will update when I have the change and I hope that you support me through this.
To those who caused this (you know who you are): Ha.
L's Name: As most people know by this time, L's real name is L Lawliet. I don't believe that his parents named him L. I know I wouldn't name my kid L, and Lawliet sounds like it could be a plausible first name. Since L was an orphan, there's a chance that L didn't have a last name, so Wammy could have given him L as another name after they met in L's first case. (Winchester Mad Bombings for all those who haven't read Another Note. I intend to discuss my version about them pretty soon.)
Justice: Yes, in that epilogue chapter with Near some years after the manga, L said that he didn't really care about justice in Near's flashback, but as one of the two creators of the series wasn't involved, I don't really know if I take it seriously or not. I kind of think that since L is a liar, and we all know that L is a liar, there's a good change that he was lying to the kids too. His actions in the series aren't one of a person who just wants to solve the case because it's fun. You don't all but torture someone, steal people's cellphones and try to solve the case when you're gasping out your last just because you kinda like to solve puzzles and are bored. Also, the only time L ever smiles in the entire series is when he says 'Justice will prevail' and I don't think he was being sarcastic.
Dial up: Do you remember 1993? When the internet had just been spawned out for the public to use? When there was only a dial up connection to the net, and DSL was something only certain businesses and the military had? And you couldn't be on as much as you liked because someone might want to call or something? Oh, that was horrible... Then again, Gentile Reader, you probably don't remember...I feel so old...
Wammy: I honestly can't think that he wouldn't wonder if what he was doing was wrong. Also, he's a character who isn't really explored. How did he fell about opening an orphanage for the creation of Tykebombs? Oh, and yes, he and L are on their own. Both L: Change the World and Another Note gave me the the impression that L wasn't actually at Wammy's House for a very long time. After all, B and Near had never seen him, and Mello had only seen him once.
Dewey: In Another Note Mello mentions that L basically had enough aliases to fill a phone book. I'm going to assume that he started picking them up early on. Dewey is just a random name I used.
The Prime Minister vs Fudge: Let's face it, the Wizards are all a pretty prejudiced bunch. The Death Eaters are basically taking the mindset to its natural conclusion, there isn't a character (other than the Muggle Studies teacher who dies) who doesn't seem to buy into this mentality at least somewhat. Even Arthur Weasley seems more interested in the Muggles distant kind of way. Isolationism does that to you.
Capoeira: While in Another Note it seems like L doesn't know it, I think that, judging by the skills he showed in the manga and show, he probably was lying and had been trained in it for a while.