Greetings all. The next installment (early!) and is a bit of a (planned!) rewind that is needed to advance the plot. And now the plot ensues.
Enjoy!
(Side note to a few reviews: Due to mass errors on posting chapters in the 1st & 2nd part, I had to post separately. It will continue to be a separate series. If you wish to view it whole & chaptered, please visit this story (same author name) at Archive of our Own)
Five years before Harry's rescue:
There were many things that displeased Loki. High up on that list was failure, though he felt he failed at everything in life, at times. Despite his brother being, well, his brother and friend, they were so far apart in personality that Loki felt like an outcast. He also severely loathed being bored.
Loki was bored.
Loki being Loki, he had to get his life's joys in somewhere. Sparring with Thor was about as exciting as licking worms (then again, there were some worms on Vanaheim that could be quite exciting when licked), especially when he wasn't allowed to use magic. Where was the fairness in fighting without his magic when Thor had the strength to pulverize boulders to powder?
It had been a century or two since he had stirred up some true fun. He was well overdue, and therefore he headed to a planet outside of the Nine that he hadn't been to in quite some time called Midgard.
By sheer luck (or the Norns had developed a sudden sense of humour), Loki had discovered some of his progeny on Midgard.
Sure, he'd had his dalliances now and then, but Æsir seed did not match all that well with mortals, especially humans. It made for, er, well, rather risk-free dalliances, which meant that somehow, he'd coupled with a woman who had an extraordinary bloodline and somehow produced live descendants. Even more amazing, there was still one living with blood strong enough that he could sense him or her.
Therefore, he took a back path (no need for Heimdall to interfere after all, or tattle to his father Odin) to Midgard and found himself in Britain watching a group of adults. Loki's spell work was perfect as always, and he had managed to teleport quite accurately following the pull this person made on his magic. Odd that Thor did not pull on him such. Perhaps because they were siblings and not parents of the other. He would have to research that some day in the libraries of Asgard.
The group of adults were at a treeline, and they were fighting with magic, of all things. Loki wasn't aware that Midgard had progressed to the point of using more precise magic. Well, the wands were a bit ridiculous, but considering humanity on this planet was still relatively young, he could forgive a few things.
Maintaining his invisibility, he sent out tendrils of his own magic so he could ascertain which of these humans were his progeny, albeit watered down for a few generations. He was delighted to be proven right when his magic identified a flame-haired she-witch, calling out spells amongst several others that appeared to be fighting with her. In turn, they were fighting against a group of black-robed figures with bone-white masks covering their faces.
The entire fight was amusing Loki. If only they knew what they could potentially due with their magic, yet they used crutches of words and wands. His eyes went back to the flame-haired woman. He was utterly fascinated by her as she spat out Latin, her red hair flying about her as she darted here and there, casting spells. She was fast, faster than her companions, and her spells were quite strong.
Another delight was to see that she was very adept at transfiguring things and using illusions. Those things was a particular talent of his, and he wondered if it was something he'd passed down to her through her parentage, whatever it may be.
He maintained his invisibility as he watched the battle until it turned in to his (granddaughter's? or perhaps several greats? He would likely never know) favour. With a hollered 'stupify!', one of the black-robed men hit the ground and the rest vanished with loud popping sounds.
Ever the more curious, Loki stayed to watch when his descendant ran forward to the downed figure. One of the men in the group called out for her to stop, giving Loki the name of the woman – Lily. Such a mundane name for one of his progeny.
Loki figured that she couldn't be more than perhaps a great-granddaughter, and quite young as well. The seidr was strong within her, and curiously, he sensed a life within her. Her child was already incredibly powerful, and he was highly intrigued.
Strangely, he was also sensing Asgardian magic from the figure on the ground. Not just seidr, but Æsir, of the royal line. How intrinsically odd. Now he knew for certain that the Norns were laughing at him, with their sick sense of humour.
Loki listened in, as there was some debate as to whether the group should wake the unconscious man or not. In the end, he was bound, levitated, and the entire group teleported away.
Loki winced at the sheer racket all the cracking from teleporting created. With all of the magic they held, they used it no better than a knuckle-dragging troglodyte. Alas, there was little he could or even wanted to do about that.
The god extended a tendril of his own magic to feel where they had teleported to and followed, focusing on keeping his invisibility active from both the mortals and keep himself hidden from Heimdall.
James Potter, his pregnant wife Lily, their best friend Sirius Black and James' co-worker from the Ministry, Frank Longbottom, all apparated to Godric's Hollow with their stunned and trussed cargo.
"On the couch," ordered James, and Frank gently levitated the unconscious man there. Lily was already putting up privacy wards and Sirius was blackening the windows. The Fidelius charm was up and active but this was too important to risk for any one of them. The extra precaution was likely not needed, but just the same, they ensured privacy. To reveal their secret would mean death.
"Okay Lily, we're good," Black said as he moved into the kitchen in search for food for them all.
Lily waved her wand and the bindings dissolved. She followed up with a whispered 'rennervate' and the figured moaned as Lily gently pulled his mask off.
"Sev? Are you alright?" The man moaned again as his aches and pains came to the forefront, but luckily, he was not gravely injured.
Loki observed silently from a darker corner of the living room, highly curious. As far as he could tell, there were three aliens in the room, not including himself. The woman was very obviously related to him, despite her shock of red hair. Those eyes were blatantly his and he could feel both Aesir heritage and strangely, Jötunn. That was different. Had Loki mated with a Jötunn? He certainly didn't recall such. The Aesir in her blood was heavily watered down, though the Jötunn was stronger. Curiouser and curiouser, Loki thought and filed it away for investigation another day.
What had him thricely curious was the babe she carried within her. The life force was so very new that she was unlikely to even know of it, yet it was extremely powerful. Loki could easily sense Jötunn blood in the babe, as well as very strong Aesir – stronger than it's mother.
Loki's thoughts ran rampant. This was all so very odd, as the man who was married to Lily was a boring mortal. The god was positive that there was nothing in his blood other than standard issue human with a touch of wizardry. There was nothing remarkable about him except an astounding lack of hair care.
To Loki's surprise, the man on the couch reached up to the redheaded woman and pulled her into an embrace, where she sobbed on his shoulder.
Loki smirked. The mystery of the parentage of the unborn child was solved in his mind. He wondered if the mortal Wizard knew his wife was carrying the other man's child?
Oh, this was a sheer delight! Much mischief to be had, and he didn't even directly create it, but he certainly could carry it much farther.
He would return at a later date when the child was no longer in its mother's womb. Power like that could absolutely not be ignored. Imagine, a child of his, that powerful, using a stupid wand? Not in his lifetime.
He would be back once the child had evacuated its mother's womb. Oh, yes. He wasn't missing this for anything.
The god of Mischief had timed his arrival to near perfection. The woman was in the last throes of childbirth, though she was being relatively quiet about it, much to Loki's appreciation. The usual grunts and groans intermixed with panting, but mercifully not screaming. Loki had never been a fan of pain and suffering and screaming set his sensitive ears on edge.
There was a matron in white robes and a wimple attending her, and surprisingly, the man that was captured when Loki was here seven or so months ago, but not the mortal husband. How odd. Perhaps their infidelities had been found out?
Loki would love to touch the man's mind but being that this 'Sev' person had Asgardian blood, he didn't dare take the risk of being discovered. Loki was positive that this man's immortal blood was quite strong and quite possibly a full Asgardian, though he certainly didn't look like one. Despite such, the god was glad that this 'Sev' was distracted by the birth of his child.
He was about to step a bit closer when there was a mighty cry from the woman and the midwife started giving instructions that Loki tuned out. Birth was women's work and he wanted nothing to do with it. He had zero interest in seeing the nether regions of his however many times removed granddaughter, but he was drawn to what it was producing like a moth to flame.
With a final cry, the babe was born, and a flurry of activity ensued that both the matron and the man were involved with.
Loki finally got a glimpse of the babe and to his horror, it was blue, with very distinct markings. The others in the room simply thought the child needed oxygen, but Loki knew far better. He could sense the Jötunn blood in the child, and the blue with those markings were nowhere else in the universe that he knew of other than amongst the Jötnar.
A flick of his hand and the blue faded immediately, bleeding to what Loki felt was colouring that would have the child looking like it's parents and therefore alleviating any suspicions.
Though Loki could not see his (it was very obviously a boy at this point) eyes, he took no chances and his seidr turned them a light blue that would go green later. He couldn't help but put his personal stamp on the child – those eyes would not be the mossy green of his mother, but the emerald green of Loki himself. Not only was that colour Loki's personal colour and his favourite, it would mark the child as his progeny, however far removed down the bloodline.
Loki paused for a moment to admire his handiwork. The mortals seemed satisfied that the child was hale and hearty, and oh yes, he could feel extremely strong magic flowing through the babe already. A grin spread across his face marking his triumph.
The god was delighted and intrigued with all he would teach his grandson, for he would find a way to do so without alerting Heimdall or the Asgardians in the room.
He tuned his ears back into the conversation and tried not to gag at the horrifically mortal name they saddled the baby with. The boy was swaddled and placed in his mother's arms where his eyes were very alert, for a newborn. He briefly cried when born but had been silent and watching ever since. Clever child. Loki was a father several times over, and even though it had been several centuries since his last, he knew the level of alertness the child was displaying was unusual.
Oh, how he would love to take the babe right at this moment! Alas, his patience would have to be stretched before he was rewarded.
He left and determined to return in a few days when the household would be sleeping.
Loki returned two nights later, slipping through paths he knew very few could follow him through, especially a certain pair of electric orange all-seeing eyes.
He crept up to the crib where the child lay, in the same room as his parents. Wait, no – it was Lily and the mortal Potter in the bed. He gave up on trying to sort out the relationship between the three adults. He didn't exactly care anyway; it was the boy he was after. Harry. He tried not to shudder at the stupid name.
A gentle dust of his green-tinged magic floated over the couple to ensure they did not wake, and he picked up the boy from his crib.
The child's eyes flickered open and Loki was pleased to see the emerald colouring already setting in, though they were a pale sage at this point.
The god gently placed one hand on the child's chest, and he smiled. Oh, yes. His smile broadened into a grin of delight. With contact this close, he could feel genuine seidr and the icy power of the Jötunn equally strong, like a raging current in the child's veins (he refused to use the horrible moniker the babe had been saddled with!).
Loki nearly laughed out loud at his discovery, and he realised that his plots and plans were going to be even more spectacular than he could ever hope and dream.
He walked over to the rocking chair in the corner with the babe in his arms and sat down. He rocked the child gently while the child's eyes studied him, like he was a specimen. Loki smiled gently at him and then started to sing a nonsensical song his mother used to sing to him when he couldn't sleep as a child himself.
He would ensure that his grandson knew of him as best he could without giving away his identity, so that they would always have a connection. He needed to return to Asgard before he was missed, and to do some hunting as to how the child was carrying Jötunn blood.
After some time, the babe fell asleep without a fuss and Loki returned him to his crib and departed. He had some research to do.
