Suspicious Newcomer

Chapter 8

Author's Note: The fic lives! This is not a drill, the fic lives! Sorry for taking so long it's been like, eight months since the last update? But I actually plotted out a beginning, middle, and end for this fic and I'm determined to finish it. It won't be good. But it will be finished. Stick around to find out the exciting conclusion!

That night, there was another after party, this time hosted by the Slytherins. Harry and Ron, having already had visited the Slytherin common room in their second year, weren't as suprised by the common room's strange lighting and layout as the rest of the Gryffindors in attendance, but it did look surprisingly different with loads of people inside and the lights darkened. Once again, firewhisky was being passed out to the patrons, this time along with butterbeer and mulled wine. Harry claimed an armchair near the fireplace and stewed over everything he had seen in the match. Although the beaters were slightly less good at collaborating to bring down the Ravenclaw team, the team overall was still ruthless, strengthening, and so far, unbeatable.

Harry sighed as he watched Misa Amane dance in front of the large window that opened to the lake, silhouetted against the green light. The flicked her pigtails back and forth to a song he didn't recognize, clutching her own glass of firewhisky. Around her, drunken Slytherins, Gryffindors, and Ravenclaws alike convulsed to the music, including Ron. Harry raised his eyebrows as he took swallow after unhappy swallow from the bottle in his hand. He appeared to be looking around for someone, frequently moving around the "dance floor" to avoid them.

His view was suddenly cut off as Matsuda moved into his line of sight, also apparently very intoxicated.

"How you doin', Captain?" he slurred. He collapsed into the chair beside Harry.

"I'd actually prefer to be alo-" started Harry, but Matsuda interrupted him.

"Seems hopeless, doesn't it?" he sighed. He too stared at Misa as she pranced around, slopping firewhisky on herself and other unfortunate dancers. "That's his girlfriend, yaknow."

"Who's girlfriend?" Harry asked, confused and slightly annoyed. Then he gasped. "Wait, you mean, Yagami's? They're dating?"

Matsuda slumped down in his chair, letting his chin touch his chest as he closed his eyes. "Yup. Started dating when he got here, I heard. Weird, innit?"

Harry nodded. He couldn't imagine two people less likely to get together, except for maybe Merope Gaunt and Tom Riddle. Then a sudden realization struck him. "Could she have drugged him with love potion?" he muttered to himself.

"Don't think so." Matsuda said, seeming to think the question was directed at him. "I've know Light-I mean Yagami for...years. He seems too clever to let someone get a love potion, or any other kind in him."

Harry wasn't really listening anymore. As interesting as the prospect of Amane's and Yagami's relationship was, it wouldn't help them win the Cup.

"He's kind of a weird bloke." Matsuda blurted out, with the air of someone trying to get something off their chest. "Yagami."

"Is that so?" asked Harry, taking another sip from his glass. He should stop before he got as drunk as Matsuda and started spilling secrets.

"Yeah." Matsuda said. He lowered his voice. "Like I said, I've known him for a while. Like, before he moved here." He shook his head. "Something about the guy...I just-he can be cruel. And enjoy it. I worry sometimes...what would happen. If he ever got into the Dark Arts."

Now Harry was interested. "You think he might be into the Dark Arts?

"No, that's not what I said!" Matsuda exclaimed. "I just- forget it." he slouched off, looking ashamed and embarassed.

"Not bloody likely," Harry commented as he watched his retreat. He felt a tingle on the back of his neck and turned around, almost feeling as he could sense someone watching him. There, sitting across the room, was Light Yagami, sitting in a straight backed chair and sitting unnaturally still. Although his bangs covered his eyes, Harry could almost sense that he had been watching him the entire time.

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"You're going about it the wrong way."

"What?" asked Harry nervously, turning around to look at the odd figure standing before him. L. Lawliet, still dressed in his messy way, stood hunched over behind his desk in Defense Against the Dark Arts, staring with those peculiar eyes. He had caught Harry just as he was packing up his bag to leave, and he was eager to leave the musty classroom for lunch.

"I get what you're trying to do. But he's too careful to break any rules that you'll know about."

"Then... which rules do we not know about?" Harry pressed curiously. L merely stared at him. Harry waited a few seconds, then huffed in annoyance. "Right, well if that's all, I think I'll get back to-"

"The tryouts."

"The tryouts? Were they closed after all? Was Mello lying to us?"

L rolled his eyes. "No." he snapped. Harry pushed down his annoyance. "The tryouts. You're thinking too much about who was there. You should be thinking about who wasn't."

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" Called out Harry, but L was already walking out of the classroom.