Thank you so much for your reviews! This is going to be a long story and I've already worked out a plot so I know where this story is headed.

Also, I made a mistake during the last chapter. Instead of being born in 1990, Harry was born in 1996.

I was asked several times if I could write the scene in which Lily meets Loki. I have decided to make it a sort of parallel story, which will end up joining in the end.

Meaning that it's 2012 WHEN HARRY'S IN SIXTH YEAR. AVENGERS ASSEMBLE (2012 (summer))

"Is it the Well of Wisdom because Yggdrasil drinks from it, or does Yggdrasil drink from it because it is the Well of Wisdom?"
― J. Aleksandr Wootton, Her Unwelcome Inheritance

Being back at Hogwarts after the winter holidays was like coming back home after a particularly long work day. At the Burrow Harry had had to put up a mask of Gryffindor joyfulness and enthusiasm, while in all honestly he had wanted to wallow around like Snape usually did.

Harry couldn't stand Christmas and everything surrounding - the laughter, the presents, the sheer naivety of it all. He had grown up without it - or rather, he had grown up being that House Elf that had to serve and watch but wasn't allowed to join in. His whole life, he had been within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible enthusiasm some people possessed during festive seasons.

At Hogwarts he could drop his mask more often - especially as he was allowed to be alone more often than the gathering of people at the Burrow had permitted him to be. Their inexhaustible energy and enthusiasm had compelled him to constantly do something. He hadn't had a single moment for himself, if one excluded that one moment when he had managed to sneak down to the village. Of course, later on, when Mrs Weasley had found out, hell had been unleashed.

Never yet, had Harry had such a reaction. Not even Petunia and Vernon had ever unleashed such fury at him. Mrs Weasley had, however given him a thirty minute speech about how Harry was in grave danger of being attacked by dementors and Death-Eaters. He was sure that the Lovegoods - who he knew lived not far from the Weasleys (in fact, just a hill away) - had heard her scolding Harry. When said boy had finally been released from her clutches, he'd dragged himself up the stairs, and up the room he shared with Ron. The two Weasley twins had grinned at him on the way up and had patted him on the back.

Nevertheless, being back at Hogwarts gave Harry the little freedom he usually didn't have during the rest of the year. It was ironic, he thought, that other students found delight and enjoyment in their holidays as they were allowed freedoms that were otherwise usually removed. Hogwarts instilled a sense of calmness and thoughtfulness within Harry.

Yet, there was something that kept bothering him. His meeting with the man - Loki Odinson - had disturbed him. So much so, that he now sat in the library, getting hands on every book that could so much as give him a hint as to who he was. He was currently leafing through a book called Famous Wizards and Witches from the 20th century. The very same book Hermione had once used while searching for the obscure Nicholas Flamel.

Harry paused at a page near the ver back of the page. A younger looking Albus Dumbledore was smiling back up at him, a hand raised in greeting. It kept moving back and forth every few seconds. His eyes were younger, and instead of half moon glasses, a pair of round, thinner-looking spectacles were perched on his nose. Nevertheless, Harry could see that even then his eyes still twinkled with mirth.

Albus Dumbledore is a renown Master of Transfiguration with exceptional skill in Charms, Defence against the Dark Arts and inventions and mechanics. His (and Nicholas Flamel's) discovery of the 12 uses of Dragon Blood however, remains to this day one of his greatest achievements-

Harry was cut off there, when a shadow covered him and his book. Glancing up, he saw - to his surprise - Luna Lovegood. She was smiling that odd, mysterious smile, like she knew something about you that she couldn't or didn't want to tell you.

"Hello Harry," She said in that airy voice of hers. The corner of Harry's lip turned upwards slightly. Luna was different to the rest of Hogwarts' population. She was… different, and wasn't prejudiced.

"Good afternoon, Luna." He replied, his deep tenor a stark contrast against her high voice.

"Are we still doing DA meetings this year, Harry?" Luna asked suddenly, hugging an edition of The Quibbler to her chest. Harry had a vague sense of deja vu, hadn't she already asked him that earlier in the year?

He shrugged, "Not really. I'm sort of busy this year. And Umbridge isn't here anymore, so it doesn't really make sense."

"Shame," She replied silently, "It was like having friends."

"No. It wasn't like having friends." Harry replied sternly, "We are your friends." Luna gave him a small, sad smile and suddenly Harry understood that she also held up a mask. She too let other people underestimate her. He wondered briefly what her personality without the mask was.

"That's a very kind thing to say." She said as her eyes wandered to the books - an action which showcased her inner Ravenclaw. Her long fingered, pale hand reached towards a book laying discarded, on the corner of the table and she picked it up.

"Wizarding Names?" She asked, a hint of bemusement in her voice, "Are you looking to rename yourself?" Before he could reply, she held up a finger to silence Harry and instead focused all of her attention on a spot just a bit to the right of Harry's left ear. Then, after a few seconds, she concentrated her gaze on him once more. "The Wackspurts all agree that Haraldr would fit you."

Harry cracked a smile. "Yes. Odd name - but fitting." He didn't offer any information. He didn't want anyone to know who he was researching. The less information they knew, the better they would sleep.

"Haraldr of Asgard," She said airily and Harry frowned. There was a particular way she said Asgard and oddly, her eyes glinted with mirth as she did so. Finally, Harry released a sigh of exasperation. Asgard probably was some place where the Wackspurts originated.

"If you're really interested in the person you're looking for, you can always look him up in the Hogwarts register. It registers every student that has ever attended Hogwarts." Before Harry could ask her how she knew that he was searching for someone, or how she knew that something like that existed, she had skipped her way out of the library and into the corridors to which it was connected. Her merry whistling echoed down the hallway.

.

The register, which hadn't been particularly hard to find but much harder to open (as it had required him to break some wards), lay at the foot of his bed as he leafed through it's pages. It was a thick book and probably charmed to be never-ending, as the pages seemed to never really end. Indeed, even when he flipped all of the pages to the left side, another stack seemed to appear on the right. Finally, Harry had used a 'key word finding spell'.

That had revealed that only two students had ever attended Hogwarts with Loki as names. No one had been named Odinson. Both children had been Norwegians, which was an odd coincidence but proved that they weren't Loki Odinson as the man had had a clear and upper class British accent - if a bit old fashioned. Also the fact that one of them had been born in the 17th century and the other in the 18th, further proved that they weren't the Loki.

Finally giving up on his search for the man, Harry stood up and waved his wand. Instantly, all of the books which had been previously laying at the foot of his bed rearranged themselves on his nightstand. He spelled the school register to look like a regular potions spell book. He would return it in the morning.

Now though, Harry pulled on a t-shirt he had inherited from Dudley, grabbed his invisibility cloak and quietly crept out of the sixth year boys dorm room. It was night, but the light of the moon that shone through the round windows of the common room provided him with enough light to stumble through the common room.

His walk to the Owlery was quick and he encountered no one save for a sulking Snape who briefly paused and looked in Harry's general direction. But then obviously finding nothing amiss he continued on his trek back down to the dungeons.

At the Owlery, Harry had removed his cloak and whistled to Hedwig to come down. The obedient owl had flown gracefully down to him, and with a grimace, Harry noticed that her feathers were ruffled and that she didn't seem all that groomed. He hadn't been taking such good care of her as had used to. Patting her head briefly, he started straightening her feathers. The manual work gave his mind a good excuse to wander - something that was rather hard to do whenever he was in Ron's company as he had to unfortunately dumb himself down to be able to converse with the redheaded boy.

Due to his wandering thoughts, he heard the approaching footsteps much too late - and when he had, a figure had already entered the Owlery Tower.

.

The figure was tall but not taller than Harry - who had grown significantly during his growth spurt in the summer. He was dressed in a thick, tailored, richly embroidered, winter cloak. In his gloved hands he held an envelope with a red wax seal with the… Malfoy… crest upon it.

Harry's eyes darted up to the profile of the sharp face which was now cast in light from the moon. Draco Malfoy had frozen, as though he knew someone was watching him and then slowly, he turned his head to face Harry who was sitting next to the rickety table, shrouded in darkness. (The chair and table had been placed there for students who had forgotten to add important details such as their addresses to their letters.)

Then, with a flick of his wrist, a think, short wand appeared in Mafloy's hand. Harry smirked. Wand holster, how very surprising. It was usually an accessory Aurors wore - the rest of the public was either unaware of it, or saw no real need in it. After all, there weren't many professions that required employers to be able to quickly pull out a wand.

Harry stood up silently and gracefully - two traits which were usually hidden with his mask. He straightened him back and pulled out his own wand from his pocket. Perhaps it was time to invest in a wand holster.

"Good evening, Malfoy." Harry said lowly, ready for an attack. Malfoy was unpredictable. Harry didn't know much about him, but he was sure he wouldn't try to Avada Kedavra him… nevertheless, that didn't mean that he wouldn't or couldn't try something else.

Surprisingly, Malfoy nodded in return, "Potter."

"You've been following me." Malfoy finally stated after they had lapsed into a long silence. Harry saw no need in denying it.

"I saw you with Snape. The Dark Lord has set you a task?" He questioned, half expecting Malfoy to curse him right then and there. He raised his wand slightly, prepared to send his own curse. Instead of instantly answering him, Mafloy eyed him shrewdly, taking in Harry's state of dress and his posture that was quite different from usual.

"Yes. But I do not wish to follow through with it." Malfoy stated with an almost imperceptible quiver in his voice. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Well, obviously he does not wish you to kill me," Harry mused aloud, "He sees me as 'his to kill'… he wouldn't let you spoil the fun. Leanne - the girl you cursed to follow your every command - was supposed to give that cursed necklace to someone. But instead, Katie Bell touched it, and found herself cursed." A tiny bit of anger seeped into his last words. Malfoy stared emotionlessly back at him. "Obviously this was not meant for me. I can think of at least a dozen of ways to kill me easily. However… there's someone in this castle who is hard to kill and not very accessible to you."

The answer came almost instantly to Harry and he raised his wand a notch or two. "Dumbledore." Harry finally stated.

Malfoy smirked, but behind the cold mask shrouding his true emotions, Harry saw a young, spoiled boy, terrified about the task that had been set for him. Then suddenly he leaned against the Owlery's wall, sighing deeply.

"Your assumptions are correct." His every word seemed to come out with force as if his loyalty to his family was stopping him from disobeying the Dark Lord, while his morals seemed to conquer that loyalty.

"Well… I can only further assume that you do not really wish to murder Dumbledore. If you had wished to kill him, he would have been long dead. Do not deny it, Malfoy, your half-assed attempts to kill him only prove my theory."

Malfoy gave him a sharp stare, "Brains… I didn't know you had them." Harry rolled his eyes. Then Malfoy straightened again, pressed both of his arms to his sides, and tucked the wand back into his wand holster. As far as Harry could see, this was Malfoy showing Harry vulnerability and simultaneously proclaiming a truce. "You are however once more correct. I do not wish to kill Dumbledore."

He hesitated again, but marched on. "In fact, Potter… I have been thinking about asking you for help."

Harry perked up and stared at the other boy. In all of the time he had known Malfoy, had he ever seen the pure-blood ask for help. His pride and immaturity had disabled him from looking at everything with a grander perspective. Raising an eyebrow, Harry slumped back into his chair, once more disappearing into the shadows. However, his hand - still illuminated by the moon - motioned to Draco to begin.

"As Black's Heir, you have the right to emancipation. After his death," Harry scowled at the boy for reminding him of the fact, "You became his sole heir and inherited everything - including his Lordship." He paused, letting Harry take this information in. Harry remained silent, he already knew this. Dumbledore had told him that in the Dursley's house, during the summer, before they had gone to convince Slughorn to come back to Hogwarts.

"As Lord Black you are legible for emancipation." Harry blinked slightly - really? Why had Dumbledore been hiding that for this whole time?

"What does this have to do with you?" Harry asked harshly. It was the only way he would get information from Malfoy quickly.

The boy hesitated once more, "I-I-I-I am seeking asylum." At the look of surprise and bewilderment on Harry's face, he elaborated, "Once the Dark Lord finds out that I have betrayed him, I am afraid that he will come after me. He cannot come after my father, for he is already in Azkaban. My mother is protected by the Malfoy wards, within them, the Dark Lord cannot hurt her."

"As Lord Black, you would be able to take control of the Black properties, which have more protections than three Hogwarts' put together." He finished slightly out of breath and with embarrassed, red cheeks.

Harry stared back at him, eyebrows raised, but otherwise expressionless. Inwardly, though, he was experiencing a turmoil of emotions. Betrayal was perhaps one of the most prominent of emotions. While he had never fully trusted Dumbledore - the Slytherin in him had always made sure he wasn't completely lacking of cunning - but betrayal like this stung. Obviously, Dumbledore didn't want Harry to gain emancipation, like that he would lose his power over the boy-who-lived.

Almost as if intuitively noticing Harry's trail of thought, Malfoy said, "Dumbledore probably never told you so that he could hold a firm grasp over your power as the boy-who-lived. As Lord Black, however, your power is politically significantly larger. The Black family has inherited six seats in the Wizengamot. With Dumbledore as your magical guardian (and I don't doubt that he is), he is allowed to control those seats to his own means."

Harry let the back of his head fall against the wall. He kept an eye on Malfoy of course, making sure the boy didn't try anything. Then again, the boy didn't seem to be lying.

For as long as Harry could remember, he had always been able to tell when someone was lying to him. Now he thought that it was probably a trait that he had inherited from whoever had given him his blue skin. Draco Malfoy, however, seemed to emit nothing but honesty and hesitance.

Focusing on Malfoy once more, Harry's gaze sharpened.

"And you know this how…?"

"My mother is a Black. Therefore she was invited to the reading of Sirius Black's will and I tagged along. My mother hoped he would leave one of the properties to her so that she could finally escape the Dark Lord's influence."

The reading of Sirius Black's Will. Harry felt an abnormal feeling of serenity and calmness overtake his senses. He was beyond angry. How had Dumbledore ever felt that it was appropriate for him to withhold such information from Harry?

"Very well." Harry finally stated, after mulling it over. "I shall try to protect you."

A small smirk graced Malfoy's aristocratic features. But Harry hadn't finished yet.

"On a few conditions." Harry stated with finality in his voice. Malfoy really wanted this protection from Harry and Harry would damn well exploit that desperation. Malfoy's smirk grew slightly in surprise as if not really expecting that, but was pleasantly surprised.

"How very Slytherin of you." He remarked. Harry glared.

"I wish for you to vow an Unbreakable Vow so that you will not betray me." A slightly unhappy expression passed over Malfoy's face but it disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared.

"I also require you to teach me pureblood traditions, politics and etiquette."

His last statement elicited a small sound of surprise from Malfoy. His eyes widened comically and he stared at Harry.

"W-Why?!"

"There are many things one cannot learn from textbooks, Malfoy, and that is one of them." He paused for a moment, "Also, if I am going to take control of six seats in the Wizengamot, I want to know what I'm doing."

"Finally, I wan't you to swear your allegiance to me, and only to me. I know you have a Dark Mark on your arm and I believe with some research, I shall be able to break the spell. I assume The Dark Lord used a spell in parceltongue to brand you?"

Malfoy nodded weakly. "But how will you break it-"

"People have generally been... underestimating me," Harry said with a cruel smirk, "I am quite a genius when I want to be. Now, do you accept my terms?"

Malfoy looked uncertain, his lip was trembling slightly, but he was trying to keep himself together. Harry watched as he slowly massaged his left arm as if wishing it weren't there.

"You need me more than I need you." Harry said with a smirk, as he held his arms wide open. Malfoy narrowed his eyes, then came to a decision and snarled at him.

"Oh, you manipulative bastard!" Harry laughed openly - it was nice to finally reveal his true personality to someone. Inwardly, Harry winced, hoping that Malfoy was wrong about him being an illegitimate child. He wanted to be James Potter's son.

"I accept those terms." Malfoy finally said with a defeated tone.

"Very well," Said Harry, before clasping both of his hands together. "Shall we do the Unbreakable Vow, then?" Without waiting for a response, Harry pulled out his wand, "DOBBY!"

Almost instantly, the excitable House-Elf appeared right in front of Harry, startling Malfoy slightly, who scowled as soon as he realised who it was.

"Father is still furious with you for taking away his elf." Malfoy stated suddenly smirking. Harry chuckled lowly.

"Master Harry Potter! It is an honour for yous to call on me!" The Elf squeaked and Harry was suddenly very glad that they were quite far away from the castle.

"Dobby. I wish to cast an Unbreakable Vow with Draco Malfoy, I want you to hold my wand while we do so." Harry ordered quietly. The Elf turned suddenly and faced Malfoy, surprise and fear suddenly appearing on the former's face.

"Draco Malfoy is bad boy!" The elf exclaimed suddenly. Harry rolled his eyes.

"No Dobby. Malfoy is a nice guy. I go to the pub with him every other Saturday." Harry said, sarcasm dripping off every word. Dobby didn't bat an eyelash, probably as he hadn't recognised the sarcasm. Malfoy rolled his eyes.

This seemed to calm the Elf down, but he still shot Malfoy a suspicious look when both old and new masters took hold of each other's hand. Malfoy shot Harry a glance which was a mixture of a glare and a smirk.

Then slowly, Dobby raised Harry's wand and let it hover a few centimetres over their joined hands. He looked unhappy about it all, but he was unable to disobey his master. Harry turned his gaze to Malfoy and narrowed his eyes at the smirk on the latter's face.

"Do you, Harry James Potter, swear to bring me to a safe-house at the end of this school year and keep my person away from harm?" Malfoy said slowly making sure that he didn't leave any loopholes. Harry could, however already see several loopholes.

"Yes, I do." A string of fire danced out of Harry's wand and wound itself around their joined hands.

"Do you swear to tell no one of our arrangement?" Malfoy stated a few seconds later and Harry frowned inwardly - was Malfoy intentionally leaving such a gaping loophole?

"Yes, I do." Malfoy stared at him shrewdly, and then nodded, satisfied with Harry's vows.

"Do you, Draco Mal-"

"It's Draco Lucius Malfoy." The blonde corrected silently.

"Do you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, swear to never to divulge our agreement - whether it'd be via writing, occlumency or legilimency, spoken speech, body language or any other way?" Malfoy gritted his teeth, knowing instantly he had made a mistake. The boy was too spoiled, he had never had any reason to be so untrustworthy like Harry had been forced to become.

"Yes, I do." He finally stated after a few moments of silence.

"Do you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, swear to teach me, Harry James Potter, pureblood traditions, etiquette and politics?"

"Yes I do." A fourth ring of fire surrounded their joined hands and Harry suddenly felt it's uncomfortable heat.

Harry, with his eyes still focused on Malfoy, nodded to Dobby, who instantly dropped the wand and handed it back to Harry. Said boy drew his hand back, ignoring the tingling pain surrounding the back of his hand and wrist. Draco Malfoy glanced down at the letter he had been about to send but seemed to come to a decision and stuck it back into his cloak pocket.

Malfoy chuckled suddenly. "Look at us - sworn school enemies - agreeing on a truce." He let out another unbelieving laugh. Harry smiled grimly.

"That's what one does when wars loom at the horizon."

Suddenly the atmosphere in the Owlery turned sour as both young men mulled over the significance of that statement. Even the owls, hanging on perches above them, grew silent as if respecting their grief and melancholy.

Finally Harry stood up and stretched his legs, he turned to Dobby, who was staring at them with wide, watery eyes.

"That will be all, Dobby." Said elf disappeared with a silent pop. "Good evening, Malfoy. I'll send you a letter when I find time for our first lesson."

The Malfoy Heir didn't utter a sound but he tipped his head slightly in acknowledgement, and with that, Harry made his way out of the Owlery, wondering if he had done the right thing.

.

The moment he was back outside, he felt his head clear - as if all of his troubles suddenly melted away from him. Glancing down at his fingers Harry noted that they were turning blue much quicker than they had the first time.

It was getting harder for him to suppress it. Gritting his teeth, Harry rubbed his fingers against his palms, warming them up. He had to hide this… He didn't want to know what the Ministry would do if they found out.

.

Loki took a deep breath as he leaned back into his armchair. His wife, Sigyn, was massaging the back of his neck, muttering words of comfort. Their marriage had been arranged many aeons ago, and now after those many, many years Loki found himself loving her in an odd, twisted way.

"What is troubling you, my Lord?" Sigyn asked as she kneaded her knuckles into a tense spot on Loki's neck. He winced a bit. What was troubling him? Well... A lot. He had discovered today that he had a son. A fourth child... and considering what had happened with all of his other children... well... Loki wasn't very eager to have another one. He didn't want another child to suffer the way his other children had. Taking a deep breath, Loki covered his face with a hand. He needed to meet the boy... he wanted to meet the boy.

He had to ask what had happened to his mother, after all... he had loved her dearly. A small, tender smile graced his face as he remembered how he had met her for the first time.

Flashback

Loki chuckled merrily as he waggled his fingers and suddenly Sif's and Volstagg's leather boot laces were magically tied together. Both warriors were unprepared for this and when they both took their next unsuspecting steps, they found themselves falling. One fell upon Fandral and the other against Hogun. Volstagg being so large (impressively large in fact) managed to also topple a market stall filled to the brim with bottles of wine, mead and ale.

The market was joyful as there was no reason to be morose. War hadn't been an actual topic on Asgard for many years now… peace had reigned for a long time. Of course, there were a few skirmishes every now and then, but these were only an excuse for the Warriors Three and Sif - Thor's best friends - to exercise their bodies for a bit.

Loki sometimes accompanied his brother on these outings as he enjoyed playing tricks on unsuspecting people and everyone at Asgard had come to expect his tricks. Even now, Volstagg and Sif were untying their laces and then tying them up again, while glaring around - most probably searching for him.

Loki chuckled once more and was about to teleport when he felt a tug at the bottom of his navel. His eyes widened as he realised what this signified: someone was summoning him… from Midgard!

The last time such a thing had happened, Midgard had been ruled by savages and the Scandinavians had worshipped Asgard and everyone within it. Admittedly, Loki had never been a really liked god but some thieves, 'magicians' and pranksters had worshipped him with hysteria and passion almost no other god had ever received. His followers had been few, but passionate and fervent.

Midgard had since then evolved. They had a civilisation now, not as exceptionally evolved as Asgard, but nevertheless, noteworthy. They no longer believed in the ancient gods - instead they now had different religions and each one of them believed their faith was the correct one.

In the Ancient Times, Loki had often ignored summons as they had been common and often a nuisance to deal with - but now, after waiting for more than a millennia, Loki found himself curious. And so, he allowed himself to be summoned.

He appeared in the middle of a perfect chalk circle, decorated with lit candles and offerings. Loki smothered a chuckle, even now his would-be disciples were ever so passionate. Gazing around majestically, he spotted four figures kneeling next to five four poster beds. They were all staring at him, unbelieving.

"Merlin." Said one - the bags under his eyes were prominent and his rectangular spectacles were slipping off his nose. He looked like a scholar. "It actually worked."

The three other boys were still frozen in shock - well until the seemingly taller of the four (a hazel-eyed boy with a mischievous look in his eye) bowed his head and said, "We kneel before You, Loki God of tricksters and lies and offer our riches to You." He said in a dramatic and reverent voice. Loki smirked.

"You may rise." he said in an equally dramatic voice.

The four boys rose and stared up at him with adoring eyes.

"Ask and you shall receive." Loki continued. All four boys glanced at each other, blinking in confusion as if they hadn't thought this over. They probably hadn't. Then the leader of the four - the one who had spoken earlier spoke: "My name is James Potter, these are my friends, Sirius Black," He gestured to a thin, sallow cheeked boy with an elegant stance, "Remus Lupin," He waved a hand at the studious boy, "and Peter Pettigrew," he finished, pointing at a chubby small boy.

"We wish you to continue your noble work on Earth-"

"Midgard," interrupted Lupin.

"Yeah, Midgard. We are seeking wisdom on the matter."

Loki chuckled openly this time. These boys were obviously pranksters. Loki hoped they were good ones too, as he found himself liking them. They were young, but their eyes already glinted with mischief and power. Narrowing his eyes at them, Loki mulled over what he should do. He could just leave with a pop and go back to Asgard… or he could help these boys get on the track to greatness. Finally coming to a decision, Loki waved a hand, majestically and almost instantly, a book appeared in his hand.

It was a nondescript book, or rather, it looked like one. Inside the magically enhanced and enlarged book, was a wealth of knowledge and information on pranking. With a swish of his palm, the book started floating over to the boys, and finally dropped at the feet of the leader, who picked it up with reverence.

It was at that moment that the door to the dormitory was slammed open and the dramatic spell was broken. In the doorway - which now let light into the otherwise darkened room - stood a girl. She was about the same age as the boys, but there was a certain maturity to her that the other boys didn't have. Her red hair fanned out around her head, giving her emerald eyes fire. They were vivid and full of passion - and anger.

Loki raised an eyebrow at the smaller, chubbier boy. Said boy blushed. The girl had obviously come in, intending to chastise the boys for a prank they had done, but as her gaze fell on Loki, the anger fell away from her face, leaving a mixture of surprise and fear there.

Loki smirked. And she exploded.

"James Charles Potter! What is the meaning of this!" Her voice was more or less calm, but filled with danger, anger and hate. This obviously seemed to frighten him terribly.

"Lily this is not what it looks like! We were… uh…" He looked towards his friends for help. The handsome, sallow faced one stepped forward.

"We were just summoning the Norse God Loki," He said casually.

There was a moment of deathly silence and when 'Lily's' gaze moved to Loki, he smirked and waved a hand.

"The pleasure is mine." He said, charm dripping on every word and with that he wiggled his fingers in farewell and disappeared back to Asgard, his job done.

.

"So what is the matter, Loki?" Sigyn finally repeated. Loki placed a comforting hand on her own massaging hand.

"Nothing's the matter, my dear Sigyn."

Review? *u*