Harry Potter and the Death Note

I don't own anything.

Chapter Seven: Sleep

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Draco Malfoy was…concerned.

Not worried. One did not worry for anyone other than those few true friends that one could make in a lifetime, and Harry Potter did not qualify as that. Harry Potter was an ally, one that could provide numerous political bonuses, nothing more.

Yet here he was, still lying awake late on Halloween night, wondering where his dorm mate was. Normally Potter would stay up late doing something stupid like reading or practicing spells, which would normally summon a gust of biting cold than anything else. Draco had long learned to bury himself under several layers of covers to protect against it, but now the heat was stifling.

Draco kicked his covers off and went over to the pitcher of water situated on a stone bookshelf. There were no books there that belonged to Draco; they were all Potter's books, first year magical textbooks and multiple Muggle books that Harry refused to give up despite Draco's insistence.

He pulled out his wand and tapped it against the silver jug, and the liquid within quickly darkened into something a little stronger than water. The familiar scent of wine relaxed him, and Draco filled his cup and then drained it.

A pleasant lightheadedness filled him, but he made sure to deactivate the pitcher and return it to water. Wouldn't do to have Severus discover that Draco knew the dirty little secret of the Slytherin dorms. According to Father, every time the Head of Slytherin attempted to get rid of the enchantment, it simply reappeared, even going so far as to transforming the dormitory's toilet water into Pinot Noire.

Draco gave a chuckle at the thought of his Father's friend's ire, already slightly intoxicated. He could feel a pleasant flush work its way onto his face and already pushing that damn compassion down. Now he could just go to sleep…

The wood of the door to his dormitory groaned as someone knocked on it repeatedly.

Draco muffled a groan in his pillow, but got up and tried to look as distinguished as one could while slightly drunk and wearing rumpled pajamas. His door swung open to reveal Tracey Greengrass, crouched as if it somehow made her stealthier, and an exasperated looking Daphne Greengrass, both dressed in their own pajamas as well.

Draco raised an eyebrow in surprise. His Father had once remarked that he fully expected Draco to have girls visiting him in the middle of the night, but he wasn't sure this is what he had meant.

"Greengrasth, Davisth, what a thurprise. Why are you here?" Unfortunately, Draco couldn't keep a slight slur out of his voice, but hopefully it would be chalked up to tiredness.

Davis brushed past him into the room, but Greengrass managed to show slightly more decorum.

"She was worried since we hadn't seen Harry at dinner and knows Snape wouldn't let anyone in past curfew." Greengrass explained.

"Don't pretend like you weren't worried too, Daphne." Tracey called back. She quickly returned to the entrance, looking dissatisfied.

"Yeah, Harry's not here. You could have asked me." Draco said. The two gave him an odd look, and Draco chastised himself internally. That had sounded far too sullen to be dignified.

"Well, if he's not here, then…where is he?" Tracey wondered.

All three stared at one another in confusion, and none were any the wiser for it. There was just too little information.

"Now, we wouldn't happen to have any children up past curfew, would we?" The silky voice of Severus Snape drifted down the hall, causing all the children to stiffen. The man, perpetually wrapped in his dark cloak, appeared at the end of the long corridor that was the Slytherin dorms. His voice carried very well, and it was only the silence enchantments on the doors that kept the other students from coming to eavesdrop.

There was a multi-broom pileup in Draco's brain as he tried to figure out what to do. Severus was not known for being lenient, even when he had been a simple babysitter when Draco was little. Now that he was in Severus's domain, he didn't want to see what the punishments would be like.

He was so going to have to clean the toilets after this…

"We were worried about Harry." He blurted out.

Draco was then subjected to being given three confused stares, two by prepubescent girls and one by his Head of House. He pushed down a flush of shame but continued. If this could keep him from scrubbing toilets like a commoner, then he would say anything.

"We didn't see him at dinner, and he didn't come back afterwards, so I thought maybe he was crashing with them, he is a bit of a lady's man after all, but I'm sure you know what that's like, right Professor? But, uh, he wasn't with them, so we were just, uh, trying to figure out where he might be."

Draco's brain took several seconds to process what the hell it was he just said, which was about as long as it took for the other Slytherins to process what is was Draco said.

"Mr. Potter is fine." Severus said finally. "He was held up after class helping another student. He will be back in class tomorrow, perfectly fine."

Even though Draco had said what he did to get out of a jam, hearing that loosened some sort of tension in him that he hadn't been aware existed.

"Now get to bed, and if I see you up past curfew again then you'll be cleaning the toilets for the next month without your wands."

All three scampered off to bed in their respective rooms. Draco basically dove for the safety of his covers and pulled them up. Severus watched him with hawk-like eyes, or as those damn Gryffindors would say when they thought they were being clever, bat-like eyes.

"And make sure to go easy on the wine next time, Mr. Malfoy." With that, he summoned the silver pitcher and closed the door.

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Erebus was frustrated. Living as a Shinigami for so long deadened your emotions to a considerable degree so the fact that he could feel anything at all right now really attested to how utterly infuriating his current circumstances were.

At the center of it all lay Harry Potter.

When Erebus had taken the boy's memories, he had known that it would take a while to get the boy's memories back. He hadn't known it would take so damn long.

Even though he had endured millennia in a dying world, there was something about knowing your goal was close at hand that made time seem to pass so much slower. It had been months, and Harry had still not chanced upon the Death Note, buried as it was in his trunk underneath some of the fancy clothes that Petunia and Penny had gotten him.

He could, of course, phase through the trunk and grab it, but Harry actually needed to touch the book to get his memories back, and there was a problem with that.

Erebus had seen a lot in his enormous lifespan, and had seen several Death Notes fall into the human world. Those were some of the most amusing times of his life, but there was one thing that always happened when a Death Note user got their memories back.

They screamed. Very loudly.

Erebus wasn't quite sure why they screamed. Perhaps it was the clash of two identities in someone's head, or maybe just something about the intrusion of something so dark into someone's psyche. But whatever it was, it had the same result.

And some people couldn't just leave well enough alone. If the Boy-Who-Lived came into contact with something that just mysteriously appeared out of thin air and began screaming bloody murder, then there would no doubt be some sort of investigation, and the Death Note would be confiscated, Harry would be found guilty of multiple counts of murder and the plan would go unfulfilled.

That was unacceptable.

And to make things worse, Erebus had had the perfect chance just a short while ago. The boy had been roaming about the castle, alone, and no one knew where he was. Unfortunately, Erebus had been rather tied up with a large clown-like annoyance.

Ryuk had found that pumpkins were not half bad, not as good as apples of course, but still good, so he decided he had to try everything at the Halloween feast. He, of course, did not care as much as Erebus did about the sudden disappearance of a great deal of food right in front of several dozen witnesses. As such, Erebus had to literally wrestle the other Shinigami away from the tables and through multiple stories of Hogwarts.

As such, Ryuk was spending some time…dismembered. He would eventually regenerate his limbs, but until then, the stupid clown would find it hard to get his precious apples without any way to get around.

But Erebus had lost that opportunity. Harry was still without his memories and without his most useful tool, and right now Erebus couldn't see any way to get it to him without incurring significant risk.

So he would wait.

And he would protect Harry Potter.

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Harry Potter was not in a good place at the moment. Well, actually he was in a magical hospital in a magic castle in not-so-magic Scotland, which normally was just grand, but right now, his classmate was lying comatose on the bed in front of him, her skin a deathly pallor.

Harry had refused to leave her side, and for some reason, Professors McGonagall and Snape both had been alright with that. He had sat by her side for hours as the nurse, one Poppy Pomfrey, analyzed the girl's stump leg.

He admitted to being slightly panicked as the nurse had begun cutting her open.

"What the hell are you doing?" Harry shouted. He couldn't do anything, he had dropped his wand back in the hallways, but he was mostly sure that nurses didn't cut into coma patients and was going to raise hell to stop it!

The nurse stopped what she was doing and pinched her nose before flicking her wand. Harry suddenly discovered his bottom half was much heavier, and fell with a thump to his seat, and found that his limbs were heavier than iron.

"Please do not attempt to interfere right now, Mr. Potter. This is a rather delicate procedure."

"Well why are you doing it?" Harry shouted, still trying to move his limbs. The woman returned to gently tracing her wand over Hermione's arm, thin cuts appearing all the while.

"Because she wasn't placed into just a coma like you might recognize from your Muggle upbringing. She was put under the Draught of Living Death, which slows all biological functions to a near stand-still. That includes the production of blood, and as you may remember, she lost quite a bit of that earlier." Madam Pomphrey bit out, not taking her eyes off of the magic she was working on the young girl.

Her words took several seconds of struggling to sink in, but it made sense after he watched the woman levitate a copious amount of viscous red liquid that Harry recognized as blood, into the open wounds and then close the cuts as if they never existed.

"Well why can't you just…give her a potion to replace all the blood? This seems more like a normal, er…Muggle thing to do."

"Well, there are blood replenishing potions, but they all work by making the body produce several times more blood. And since she is currently producing none-"

"-It wouldn't work." Harry finished.

"Exactly." Pomphrey didn't exactly sound happy that he understood, as there was still a comatose girl under her care, but didn't sound as upset over Harry's earlier actions.

Harry watched in silence as he watched the medi-witch work, slowly placing the blood inside Hermione. The small girl required much more of it than Harry would have thought just a few hours ago.

"Where did you get the blood?" Harry asked, his mind seizing on that one detail over everything else for some reason.

"We have a several dozen liters of blood on hand actually. We normally don't need to use it, as the replenishing potions are enough for most emergencies, but I'm certainly glad we have it on hand now. That, and in case a vampire attacks and we need to bribe it."

Harry's back screamed in pain as he tried to straighten suddenly while still having his limbs weighed down. "Vampires are real?"

The nurse gave him a bemused look. "Yes, Harry, vampires are real. Don't the Muggles know this? Isn't that why they all wear those crosses all the time?"

"Err…not exactly."

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Petunia Evans was a woman of rather simple tastes. She was that way quite by necessity, and never saw any reason to go back. It was just too taxing, both emotionally and financially. So she learned to appreciate her cup of tea in the morning, the pleasure of doing yard work on her own, and, her new favorite activity, reading letters from her son and nephew.

Both wrote weekly, as they had promised, and the content changed week to week. Petunia knew her boys, neither one would want to burden her with too much, but they also wanted to be able to vent, so the letters switched between distress and elation.

Until one particular letter that came right at the crack of dawn a few days after Halloween.

"Hello there, Hedwig." Petunia greeted the snowy owl calmly. No neighbor had ever noticed the little darling swooping down to deliver mail, and Hedwig was more of a lady than any housewife in the area, so Petunia didn't have to worry about scrubbing owl poop off of the furniture.

Hedwig nipped at her fingers affectionately and then presented her leg for the removal of her letter. Petunia deftly unattached it and put out some food for her guest, who was always hungry after such a long trip.

Petunia quickly picked the letter out of its envelope and found that her nephew's handwriting was much messier than before, with various splotches over the page, and it definitely gave the letter a sense of urgency. Petunia set aside her tea to read the letter as quickly as possible.

Dear Auntie,

Sorry if this letter gets there too early and I've woken you, but I really need some advice. One of the girls in my school was injured and she'll be spending a lot of time in the hospital ward, so she'll be missing class.

The thing is, Hogwarts is basically her whole life, she's always studying or helping others in class, and it would kill her if she missed a lot of the classwork. I could try to copy my notes for her but she's already so much better than me, in theory and in practice, so I don't think my notes would cut it. And I can't ask anyone else for help, nobody in my House or her House seems to like her very much.

I really need some advice, Auntie. What do I do?

With Love,

Harry

Petunia didn't know how exactly to feel as she read the letter. Obviously she was horrified that a student had been injured so badly that she had to be hospitalized, even with the advantage of magic on their side, but she was also secretly glad that Harry cared so much about a fellow student.

She had had many long talks with Penny about the woman she had been before Vernon died, and still grappled with self-loathing for what kind of person she had been and was hopefully moving away from. Things had never gotten as bad as for Harry to be physically abused, but Penny detailed all of the issues a kid like Harry could develop. She had been very worried that Harry might become some sort of sociopath.

But sociopaths didn't care about people like this, did they?

Petunia shook herself out of her thoughts. All this could wait. Right now her family needed her. She flipped over the parchment, grabbed a pen, and began to write.

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Harry was having a very distressing day. Or rather, he had been having a distressing day, and it had just continued since there. He had stayed up with Madam Pomphrey until the sun had rose, just trying to keep his mind off of darker matters, but the nurse suddenly seemed to realize that she was keeping an 11 year old awake well into the morning and kicked him out.

From there, things had only gotten worse.

He didn't have his wand, still having not recovered it from the halls, so he went through the class determined to take notes both for himself and for Hermione. However, he knew he wasn't the best, not by far, so he asked some of the other Gryffindors and Slytherins for help, all the while keeping from revealing just what had happened, as per Professor Snape and McGonagall's wishes.

It had not gone well.

"That girl could do with some relaxation time. Just let her rest, and maybe when she wakes up she'll realize there's more to life than school." Lavender Brown had said.

"Sorry, I really can't spare the time to copy out all of my notes. Good luck though." Seamus Finnigan had said, right before going back to doodling with his friend Dean.

The other Gryffindors had had similar responses. All had said no. Some were rude about it, Hermione clearly having done something to rub them the wrong way, while others pretended to be polite but were no more helpful. The only one Harry didn't ask was Ron Weasley; both because he didn't really want to interact with the boy and because….well, he was a bit dim.

Asking the Slytherins had actually been worse.

Daphne had flat out rejected the idea when he had proposed it, saying Granger could likely catch up when she came back to class. Tracey had been very clearly uncomfortable and also said no.

When Harry went to Blaise, the boy's face went flat and he became very stiff, refusing with a very stoic tone that he normally only used in class. Draco, of course, was a lost cause and Harry didn't feel like depressing himself further by asking.

Surprisingly, help had come in the form of Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. The two were not nearly as proud as Draco and didn't tell Hermione off if she attempted to help them, and claimed they were repaying that, though Harry had noticed that Vincent had an ugly blush across his face as the two gave him their notes to help with his endeavors. The two did make it very clear that their efforts were not to be made known to anyone.

Unfortunately, the two's handwriting was not very good, and while there were a few tidbits that did help, overall it was not worth the time. Harry didn't tell them that, but thanked them profusely.

Still, he wasn't going to give up on this. Sure, Hermione had annoyed him as much as the next person, but she had only been trying to help people, and Harry hadn't been able to help her when she needed it most.

So Harry needed outside help. He didn't know any of the Professors well enough to bring this to them, but he did have one person he could go to. Well, actually two, but whatever Petunia said would be influenced by Penny anyway.

Harry had written the letter just after dinner and sent it just before going to bed. It was lunch time the next day when Hedwig had swooped down from the ceiling of the Great Hall, from exactly where Harry couldn't figure out, and allowed him to detach his reply.

Too eager to care for manners, Harry tore open the envelope and set to reading it.

Dear Harry,

I am sorry for whatever happened to your friend; please extend my good wishes to her.

On your concerns for helping your friend with classes, if your classmates won't help you then you need to reach out beyond them. Ask the upper years in your House who don't have the same bias for their old notes, or go to some of the other Houses.

Speaking of which, which House is your friend in? We wouldn't happen to have a Romeo and Juliet situation would we?

Harry had to briefly stop reading to close his eyes in exasperation. Trust Auntie to turn the situation into a romance movie. But still, her advice was good, he hadn't considered it, so he kept reading.

Back on topic, you should look into some sort of audio-to-text spell. There have been similar advancements here in our world, so it's not too farfetched. Or at least something to record sounds so you can play it back later.

I hope that this could be of some help, and I expect updates on your friends' condition, as well as a name!

With Love,

Aunt Petunia

"What 'cha got there, Potter?" Harry practically jumped out of his seat when Tracey's voice came from immediately behind him. She had been immediately across from him just a moment ago, so she must have crawled under the table just to shock him.

"None of your business." Harry snapped at the girl. Tracey looked startled by the sudden hostility and Harry berated himself internally. Even if she had refused to help, Tracey was still his friend.

To his surprise, Tracey did not become offended. Instead she shuffled awkwardly and sat down next to him before he could apologize.

"Are you okay?" She asked him, concern evident on her face. Harry flushed slightly at the sudden proximity, but Tracey didn't immediately jump on the opportunity to tease him, which worried him further.

Harry shot a look at Blaise for help, he was clearly concerned too, his face far more expressive than it normally was in public. Daphne was stone faced, but also seemed worried.

Draco was too busy eating to be paying attention.

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine." Harry defended quickly. "Just a little tired." It was true too, he hadn't slept at all Halloween night and his sleep last night was so brief it barely qualified as resting.

A hint of irritation crept into Tracey's expression. "We're not idiots, you know." She bit out. "All of a sudden you're obsessed with taking notes and helping Granger."

"Lost his wand, too." Draco input, wiping his mouth delicately. The four all gave him an odd look, but Draco refused to blush under the attention. "You fiddle with your wand more than you properly should. It's undignified."

"So what happened on Halloween?" Tracey got the questioning back on topic, all of them now looking intently at him.

"It's not my place to tell." Harry said quickly. "It's Hermione's."

"Oh. My. God." Blaise hissed out, his eyes frantic as he leaned across the table. "You got her pregnant didn't you?"

Had Harry been drinking something at the moment, he would have spewed it all over Blaise and Daphne. As it was, he just briefly felt the urge to throttle his friend. Daphne and Tracey sighed, but Blaise seemed to be oblivious to the fact they thought he was an idiot.

Draco gave Blaise an accusing look. "You've been drinking, haven't you?"

"What?" Blaise, for all his dramatic tendencies, was a terrible actor. "No! Shut up. You've been drinking."

"Blaise, I didn't get Hermione pregnant." Harry hissed at his possibly inebriated friend. Blaise gave him a suspicious look but didn't continue.

"Anyway, I have just been a little tired. Hermione is too sick to come in for class and I realized she's been trying to help other students this whole time. So I decided to help her out in return."

For a moment there was silence. Well, among those five Slytherins, the rest of the Great Hall was still quite noisy, but the point still stands. Finally, the group seemed to acquiesce, although Draco gave Harry a calculating look that Harry wasn't sure he liked.

Lunch ended soon after, and Harry and his friends went off to class. Harry had a miserable time in class, as he still didn't have his wand, but continued making efforts to copy everything down best he could. All he had to do was make it to the end of classes, and then he could actually start helping Hermione for real.

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Hermione Granger woke up feeling well rested. That was odd. Normally she would get up several times in the middle of the night to write down some idea or the solution to something that her dreams had given her. Her brain was just too busy to ever really shut down.

Hermione attempted to bury her face in the pillow and chase after the fleeting vestiges of her sweet dreamless sleep, but found that the pillow was not the cushy cushion of her four poster bed in the Gryffindor Tower.

"Ah, you're awake." The voice Hermione heard was clinical, but kindly. It was the same kind of voice that her parents took on when they were about to tell a child they were going to get a tooth pulled.

Hermione rolled over and found herself in what was obviously the hospital ward. What made her think that? Well, the rows of neat uninhabited beds, the fact everything was bleached white, and the fact that the witch standing over her was dressed in a nurse's uniform had something to do with it.

"Hello." Hermione said groggily, her mind still not fully awake. "I don't believe we've met."

The woman chuckled. "If I had my way none of you students would need to know I existed, much less my name. As it is, you may call me Madam Pomphrey."

Pomphrey handed Hermione a cup of water that she gratefully drank down. It felt like she hadn't drunk anything in days…

It was that thought that kick started Hermione's brain again. "How did I get here?" Hermione questioned intently, struggling to sit up. Madam Pomphrey waved her wand and Hermione found an extra pillow to lean against, which she gratefully did.

"You were gravely injured on Halloween night." Pomphrey said bluntly. "You were brought here by Professors McGonagall and Snape, along with Mr. Potter, you was there when you were injured."

Multiple questions ran through Hermione's head. Why had Harry Potter been there? What exactly had happened to her? But most importantly…

"I haven't missed any school, have I?" She asked anxiously. Pomphrey seemed unable to process her words for several seconds, and then burst out laughing. Hermione waited with growing impatience as the woman wiped a tear away from her eye.

"I haven't seen that sort of determination to attend lessons in all my years here, and that's saying something." Pomphrey chuckled. However, her amusement seemed to fade when she took in the utter distress on Hermione's face.

"Yes, my dear. It's now the 13th of November."

Hermione could have sworn her heart stopped beating for several seconds when she heard those words.

No, this couldn't be happening, she couldn't miss classes, her grades would plummet and she would never catch up, and she'd fail and they'd kick her out of Hogwarts and she would never be around people that were like her again and-

"Hermione?"

The girl turned and saw a familiar dark haired boy entering the Hospital Wing with a shock on his face. His emerald eyes alternated between looking at her face and her legs, oddly enough. Then, suddenly the boy darted towards her and she found herself wrapped in an awkward hug.

She had missed two weeks of school. She had just come out of a coma. And now Harry Potter was giving her a hug.

Something in Hermione's brain short-circuited and the room began to shimmer and spin. Harry looked down at her in confusion and asked her something, but his voice was coming from down a long tunnel.

Hermione lasted a full five minutes out of her Draught of Living Death-induced coma before she passed out in a confused Harry Potter's arms.

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Goborei grumbled in distaste as he sorted through the large piles of gold and silver before him. He had not expected that this was how the king would go about conducting warfare.

It had already been weeks, and the curse breakers were already working on eliminating the magic deeply ingrained in every goblin that resided in Gringotts. Of course, the goblin curse breakers were thrilled, even if most of their subjects died (many of whom they knew) if it meant freeing themselves.

The human curse breakers were a different matter. They were split into two camps: the ones who would do anything for profit, rather like goblins themselves, had willingly went along with the plan if it meant they were going to get paid. This was a significant portion of the human curse breakers that were willing to work with them, around 63%.

Then, there were the annoyingly moral ones. Humans had a tendency to start caring for anything that they spent enough time around, and somehow quite a few human curse breakers grew faintly fond of goblins, enough so that they were uncomfortable with experimenting on goblins. These needed to be…persuaded.

So each one was told a different tale. It was a curse from an old vault, and won't you please help? An angry wizard had hexed this poor goblins and he'll die if you don't help, won't you assist him?

None of them were told the truth. They didn't know they were giving the goblins the ability to finally rebel against those damn arrogant wizards and put them in their place.

Unfortunately, Goborei didn't get to be a part of that. Though decades ago he had been a curse-breaker, his had developed his talents in a different way, seeking to identify curses before they activated. So much easier. But this meant the king needed his help with something different.

Namely, confiscating vaults. Due to some sort of stupid wizarding politics, if a vault held a dark object, then the goblins could claim the contents for themselves. Apparently this was meant to force wizards to withdraw their magical items so that the Ministry could then raid their house and arrest them without really having to deal with Gringotts, which was purposefully difficult.

But wizards were arrogant to the point of being stupid, or perhaps the other way around, and very few of them actually withdrew anything other than gold as normal, trusting that the goblins wouldn't be able to tell if something was enchanted or not.

Fools.

Did they really think goblins had no magic of their own? Yes, it was not as refined as a wizard's wand would allow them to possess, nor could it reach the raw power of someone like the Earthshaper or the Lightbringer, but magic was a part of them.

And Goborei happened to be very good at it.

He closed his eyes as he took in a deep breath. In his mind's eye he saw a hunk of molten ore, the first weapon that he had forged. The hammer fell, and Goborei was the hammer, the metal and the fire.

"Trace: On." Goborei's magic spread into the object he was examining, probing its depths and telling him everything there was to know about the ugly goblet he had found in the Lestrange's vault. The readings that came back were revolting, even to him.

Goborei broke off the Structural Analysis to vomit. He wiped off his mouth and resolved to have a lower rank come clean up the mess. Yet despite his disgust, he couldn't help the monstrous grin that split his face as he took Helga Hufflepuff's Goblet and brushed the surface delicately.

"Hello, Tom." He whispered to the cup.

For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Then the light seemed to catch the glistening surface of the metal and Goborei saw a single blood red eye reflected back at him.

Goborei set the goblet away from him as he could feel the Horcrux's magic try to take hold of him, convince him to drink of its depths, which would surely not end well for him.

He could destroy it. There were weapons powerful enough to do so; he had several in his cave. But the man known as Lightbringer had had several dealings with them in the past, and it was clear the man was not just a mad sorcerer, he was a scholar and a researcher as well.

Who would he be to let that knowledge go to waste?

A deep laugh started in Goborei's chest, and within a few seconds his vicious cackling filled the cavern. It went on for quite a while, and under the relentless cackling even the metal of Hufflepuff's cup seemed to shiver.

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Chapter 7! Achievement unlocked!

To my fantastic reviewers:

Daughter of Trickery- The Death Note canon still won't kick in for a while, though I am throwing around some ideas for what to do when I get there.

Fireblaze-kun64- That really makes my day to hear you say that, thanks!

So yeah, the goblins now know that they have one of Tom's Horcruxes. And please don't get worked up about Goborei's use of Structural Analysis, it's not really a crossover. Well, it is, but not a Fate/Stay Night crossover.

And always remember to review! It gives me so much motivation.