You lose when you die

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Death Note.

Summary: "The world was like a chessboard, sacrifices needed to be made and one mistake could cost you your life." Harry finds a death note not long before he starts Hogwarts. What will his choice of justice be?

Warnings: Mature rated.

Note: The timeline is a little different. Kira's reign of power has already been. It has been ten years of supposedly normal heart-attacks.

Moreover, if you have seen the movie(s?) you will notice where the conversation at the end of the chapter comes from.

You lose when you die

The heat was sweltering. Sunstroke, however, was not an option for you today. Exhaustion had to be overcome.

You sat crouched in the yard, your hands battling against the insistent weed that nicked your palms when you yanked at it. Balanced on the tip of your naked toes, you managed to win against the weed as you gained leverage. Why your Aunt Petunia was so against simply mowing the weeds down was a mystery. Though it would not be a surprise if your yard-work was simply a means of torture created by the woman.

You dragged your fingers through your fringe, un-sticking the hair from your damp forehead and exposing the jagged scar, that your aunt so despised, to the world.

The shirt that you were wearing was another testimony of your relatives care. It was shabby and worn, not to mention completely discoloured ( though it was impressive that your uncle actually had attempted to wash clothes. At all. Even if he had made a complete mess of it). Frankly, you looked like a street urchin. Like something straight out of Oliver Twist.

It seemed odd that not many people paid attention to the fact that an upper-middle-class family like the Dursleys' had a nephew that appeared this way.

The Dursleys seemed to be a peculiar sort of people. They were money-hungry but still wanted to fit into the comfort of "being normal" and 'just like everyone' in Little Whinging's suburban life. Still, it seemed as if they were convinced of their own eminence, as was evident in the way they talked to people as if this was a factor that should be acknowledged. After living with the Dursleys for most of your life, you still did not fit in. Perhaps you could perceive their hypocrisy.

You seemed both amused and aggravated by your relatives. They demanded much of you, which must sometimes have been hard to handle. If you had been a person to crave friendship and love, your relationship with them would probably have been worse. However, you were an independent individual, as was clear in the way you spent your free time being scholarly productive. Some of your teachers have even expressed their concerns of you not following the normal pattern that all children are supposed to follow.

Your uncle, not related through blood, was a thief. A nasty one, embezzling money from the company he worked at. Grunnings, it was called. You had been made aware of this knowledge when leafing through his booklets last year. Though you had yet to act on this knowledge, perhaps you never would. What was justice? What was law? Justice was subjective, the law was created by the people who had the subjective thoughts. The laws looked different throughout the world because people were different and upheld differing ideas. Perhaps, you did not know what to believe.

The world was after all corrupted. Corrupted enough to consider the murder of criminals justice. Ten years prior there had been a 6-year period of unexplainable heart-attacks. According to the media, it had been a man in possession of an object – that later had been destroyed. Some people still worshipped this person as a god, 'Kira' they called him.

Living in a blissful ignorance would also only end in heart-ache. One would fall easy prey to all in their depraved society. The world was like a chessboard, sacrifices needed to be made and one mistake could cost you your life.

You did not trust the authorities–or you would have reported the abuse you suffered repeatedly, as you had no form of attachment to the people could be referred to as your family. The Purge, as the fanatics had named that man's reign of power ten years ago, had proven how the police could not handle criminals or the rest of the population. Though maybe your distrust in the police came from actually having contacted them several years ago. You had made a formal report of your relatives less than ideal care, but you had been turned away and told to stop wasting their time.

You sighed, it seemed as if you had been ingesting moral dilemmas for lunch.

Life was monotonous around you; school, your relatives 'care', sleep, over and over again. At the moment, your life was not complicated but utterly and completely boring.

Your break was interrupted by one of the shrillest noises made by humankind.

"Get to work, you lazy boy!"

.-.

A young Shinigami stood before him. A new Shinigami. One whose face still remained mostly human. Gaunt and pale, for sure, but still retaining a lustre of skin that was only known to exist on the living.

"I want to go to the human world. I'm sick of this boring world! I heard the human world was interesting." The young thing told him. This world was already boring to the young one. How predictable. It would be worse than hell for him to become accustomed to an eternity of boredom. The poor little thing, those first years were always the worst. But Ryuk was happy to see him, to see his face before it started to wither and its beauty leaving nothing but haunting flesh or bone. Musingly, he got lost in the many happy memories. It was a pity that the young one's own memories had been forgotten after death.

"It's boring, with boring people doing boring things. But the man who tried to change the world was interesting." Ryuk replied, still lost in bright memories. The man had been remarkable and so much fun. Perhaps, something interesting still could come out of it. Out of him. Anything to take the boredom away. Even if it was just for a while.

"Anyway, I'm bored now. I'll tell you about it. To pay you back for the unpalatable apple. That's right, this is a story about a man who tried to change the world and become a god."

And so Ryuk told his story, drifting off into a world of his own.

"You were not a God, you were just–" But when Ryuk looked up, the other was nowhere to be found.

"Gone already?" Ryuk chuckled lightly to himself–to him. The story must have made an impression. Of course, it would have. After all, it was his story.

"You should go take a look. Someone might pick up the notebook if you're lucky and you get to see something you won't forget for the rest of your life. Isn't that right?" He spoke to himself, his long-gone companion lost once more. Not that it mattered, they had already had their fun.

"Raito."

.-.

End note: As you have probably understood I'm basing this on the theory that Raito became a Shinigami.