LOKISSON ; chapter III


[a/n timeskips]


There was a small revolt in Vanaheim, but when he realized it would be subdued easily, the god of lies used the opportunity to go back to the mortal realm once more, though it had scarce been long since he had last seen his son [two weeks, in fact]. He went down, easily finding him with his rune, Dagaz, the one he had penned on his son's forehead. Loki soon found himself at a rather boring, nondescript house - 4 Privet Drive, it was. Well, it seemed nicely put-together, the garden neatly trimmed, and while the inhabitants did not look well, wealthy, and there was nowhere near the pomp and splendor of the palace he normally stayed in on Asgard, it was good enough.

And the Trickster smiled, strolling to the door, and elegantly pushing the doorbell with a long finger. He wondered on a whim that it would not do to leave a prince out in the cold, though of course it affected him not in the slightest, and hummed an opera he'd listened to several centuries ago in Paris. And then he waited, summoning a chair out of thin air with a dust of cold blue magic, shrugging lightly, wearing the finest embossed leather, the god of mishief waited outside of Dursley's for a few minutes, humming, thinking...

Until the door opened with a slam in his face, and an ugly matron stared at him with piggish eyes. He smiled darkly.

"I'm afraid you have my son in your possession...?"

She paled. "You- you freak! They said you died from some d-dark wizard..."

His smile darkened further and he stood taller, relinquishing some of the easiness from his figure. "I am a freak, I suppose", he laughed coldly, "But if you are to have your lives still in but five minutes, you will listen to me and you will not hurt my son."

She squealed a bit, in fear, and was silenced immediately when he put an unnaturally pale finger on her mouth, stifling her vocal chords with icy skill.

"So... Where were we? Ah, yes. You will treat my son with the absolute respect and the utmost (well, I sense you have little love for magic-users, so not love, but rather) care. You will buy him all he needs, give him a good, ample, childhood and you will not object to his magic in the slightest, however much it might chafe you to do so. Otherwise you shall feel my wrath. Trust me, it's not really something you'd want coming down on Midgard."

Loki smiled dangerously and, trilling a tune, disappeared into mist.


Harry was five, and he was crying because Aunt Petunia said he couldn't have a birthday party, but Dudley had had one, several months before.

All she did was smile, with that strange emotion he'd come to acquaint with frigidly polite annoyance, and told him she was "So sorry, Harrykins" but he could have one next year. And he started crying; he wasn't as bad as Dudley when it came to tantrums and fits, but he was quite proficient in manipulating his aunt with innocent tears. This time, though, she didn't budge, and so he stopped and, seeing he could not get his way, threw a sad look back at her (guiltiness didn't work as well, but perhaps she'd budge more in the future if she remembered his inner turmoil when he had been denied a birthday party the first time).


It was one of those rare occasions when his father came, and Loki told Harry that he should be trained in the arts of witchcraft, and war, and the polite threats of nobility. He would not be as important to Asgardians as he would be if he was Thor's son ; and with both Thor, Loki, and any children Thor might have in the future [in fact, Frigga felt strongly that he needed heirs, and she wanted Thor to have grandchildren so much she'd already picked out names - Modi or Magni should he ever have children] in front of him for succession to the throne of Asgard. Still, at the moment he would have been third in line for the kingship, fourth if Baldr had still been alive, so it was not impossible that he could one day be Allfather.


And so Loki diligently taught him, not excessively patient or gently, but with calm expertise. Perhaps he was young, still, but the princes had been tutored with such things even earlier, under Odin's watchful gaze, and after year of lessons Loki easily made sure Hardun soon learnt the basics of most things he needed. He was most adept at the magics, which was unsurprising considering his parentage, but an almost-prodigy at runes, something the Trickster was quite proud of; his son had a very good memory for the basics of runic lore and a steady hand with a runemarker. The boy was less skillful at fighting, though over the course of several mock-duels he began to develop his own style - trickery, mostly defence but quick stabs or thrusts when the opponent was distracted, quite alike to his father's. He would never be as muscle-bound or strong as his uncle Thor - indeed, not many were - but in time he could become quite a decent fighter.