Joe's Note: And now the rest of the material that was formerly of Chapter 5, but got moved forward due to my inclusion of Harry's unscheduled trip to Asgard. I chose to make this chapter the one that overwrote the existing content because I thought there would be more feedback to be had on the significantly more different content in 'Across the Rainbow Bridge'. That being said, if you cannot review this chapter due to system limitations - AKA, you're one of the forty-one people who reviewed this chapter of the story back in 2008 - feel free to drop me a PM with your thoughts. Finally… while this chapter is less noticeably different than the previous one, that just means the tweaks are more subtle. There are still a bunch of changes to be found if you look, and so skimming might be hazardous to your health.
Dedications & Thanks: To Nicholas, Alexander, Howard, MJ, Daniel, Christopher, Marc, Ziryo, Elliot, Crusifikz70, Timothy, Leigh, Jason, Chris, George, Koby, Ken, Thyatira, William, Wil, Invernos, Jack, Pat, Warren, Chris, Mitch, and Jess for sponsoring me on , and making it easier for me to spend more of my time writing.


August 19, 2001
The Kitchen
Potter Manor
Fowey, Cornwall, England, United Kingdom


"So, um, question. Did I zone out at dinner one night and miss a really important conversation or something?" Rose's voice drew his attention back over to the breakfast nook, where she was looking from one family member to another curiously before turning her gaze Harry's way. "Why did you and Cissy attack Harry, Mum? Why is my brother now my sister? What was the giant rainbow thing, and how did Harry come out of it? Why? What's Asgard? Who's Thrúd? Since when isn't Harry Harry? I have so many questions and no idea what's going on!"

Jasmine shook her head rapidly. "If you missed something, I slept through it too. But from what they're saying… I think this Harry isn't our brother Harry, but our Mums thought he was someone else entirely and attacked him. That's why he had to make that oath." Huh. Brawn and brains. If Jasmine was the athletic twin and the intelligent twin, what did that leave for poor Rose? "But forget about all of that. Look at her! Harry her, I mean! This is so better than having a brother! And our new sister's not just a girl, she's like… a wicked-looking warrior goddess girl! Who's part-alien!" Pausing, Jasmine cocked her head to one side before leaning forward, as if the foot or so closer to Harry the move gained her would somehow give her a significantly better view of him. "Are you still Harry? Or are we supposed to call you Harriet now?"

Before Harry could reply, Altaira raised her hand. "My vote is Harriet."

"Hjördís."

"Gesundheit."

"Funny. No, it's the name that Sif picked out for me when I decided that I didn't want to be called either Harry or Thrúd as a girl. It means 'sword goddess'. So if you feel like calling me something other than Harry when I'm shaped like this, call me Dísa. Dee-sah." Harry turned back to the eggs as the girls tried that one on for size, and then froze as his brain processed something that Jasmine had said. 'Our mums'. Plural. He'd wondered why the girls hadn't reacted to the way his mother and Narcissa were behaving; evidently he and Altaira - and the original Harry, of course - weren't the only ones aware of his mother's infidelity. Or the only ones who accepted it. That little side plot just kept getting more and more interesting. Pulling out the first egg, Harry absently cracked it on the edge of the bowl and let the yolk and white pour out. "So, Mum. I trust you and Narcissa to keep this to yourselves. I mean, you know things that I don't want shared, I know things you don't want shared with this version of James at a minimum… it's a mutually assured destruction situation. But what are we going to do about the girls? Altaira included? They already know enough to be dangerous, and that's before I let you ask me any questions about my past, my world, or the whole Thrúd thing. I mean, I'm sure they'll try their best to keep things quiet, but I'm not going to let my secret - well, any of my secrets - get out because one of them blabbed to a friend."

Much to Harry's surprise, Narcissa simply nodded in agreement. To be honest, he'd been half-expecting her to argue that if the twins and Altaira could keep her and Lily's secret, they could keep his. Or at least argue in Altaira's favor; he still wasn't sure exactly how close the woman was to his sisters. "You know, it's a good thing that you and Tara get along so well. It'll make things so much easier on your housemates in Slytherin… although I hope for his own sake that Draco's sorted somewhere else." Him? Slytherin? Not bloody li… Harry looked down at his outfit. Well, he didn't look terrible in green and silver. And after how he'd behaved for the past two months… "Can't argue with your logic, though. I'll swear an Unbreakable Vow and then be your bonder with Tara. Lily, I'll need you to server as my bonder, I'll serve as yours, and then… I could bond your girls but I assume you'd prefer to?"

The two turned to look at the mistress of the house, who blushed and looked down at her hands. "Well, there's a bit of a problem this plan. I've heard of Unbreakable Vows but I've never had a reason to sit down and read up on exactly what one is, so I'm not sure if I'm comfortable with the idea of making my daughters swear them. Or with swearing one myself."

Harry, unable to stop himself, tossed out a gem Ron had offered in his old universe. "Well, you can't break an Unbreakable Vow…"

Head snapping up, Lily glared at the chuckling Harry. "I'd worked that much out for myself, funnily enough." At that point, Narcissa joined him in laughter and she let out an indignant huff. "I hate you both."

"Is that so? Considering how much time we spend shagging, I'm not sure I'd be able to survive you actually liking me." As Lily sputtered indignantly, Narcissa turned to Harry and extended her arm. After a few seconds, he nodded and reached out to grab her by the wrist, her slender fingers curling around his wrist a few seconds later to mirror his position. "Now Lily, we need you to come over here and place the tip of your wand against our wrists, roughly equidistant between our hands." Drawing her wand, Lily made her way over to them uncertainly and - after a few seconds of hesitation - did as Narcissa requested. "And here we go. Harry?"

Harry waited a few seconds, giving his mother's paramour one last chance to pull out, before clearing his throat. "Do you swear that you will protect any secret shared with you by Harry James Potter regarding his origin or abilities unless explicitly told you are allowed to do otherwise?"

"I do."

"Do you swear that you will protect any information regarding Harry James Potter's origin or abilities that you discover for yourself unless explicitly told you are allowed to do otherwise?"

"I do."

"Do you swear to eschew trousers, jeans, shorts, and other garments based on trousers, and wear only skirts or dresses from this day forth?"

"…I do." There was a moment's hesitation before Narcissa's reply, and then a thick tongue of fire wound around their clasped arms for a third time before dissipating. As the two broke apart, the woman arched an eyebrow. "Dare I ask why you felt that last one was necessary?"

Offering a cheeky smile and a shrug, Harry picked up another egg and went back to his breakfast preparations. "I didn't realize until we'd already started that I could only think of two clauses that you'd need to swear to protect my secrets. I needed a third and, well… I haven't known my mother for very long, or this version of you for that matter. But I know you both well enough to think you'll thank me for this at some point." Looking over at his mother, Harry nodded in Narcissa's direction. "If you try to get her to wear trousers and she humors you, she'll die."

Lily's eyes went wide, her gaze jumping from Harry to Narcissa and back rapidly. "And if she accidentally shares one of your secrets?"

"She dies."

Raising her hands, Lily shook her head as she backed away from the kitchen counter. "See, this is the kind of thing that I needed to know before we started this. Now that I know it? I am not okay with this plan. At all."

"If we don't swear a vow, we'll need to be obliviated." Lily's head whipped around fast enough to make Harry's neck ache in sympathy, and Altaira shrugged before rising to her feet and brushing past Rose as she made her way over to where Harry was working in the kitchen. "I may only be eleven, but I'm not an idiot. If we can't be trusted with the information, we won't be allowed to have it. Which means not only being kept out of conversations, but having our memories erased to get rid of what we already know. I refuse to be kept in the dark because from what I've already heard, I know this is going to be an interesting enough story to be worth the Vow. Besides, Draco's under an Unbreakable Vow to keep quiet about you and Mum, and he's not dead yet."

As Altaira climbed her way up onto the counter to sit next to where Harry was working, a horrified Lily turned to Narcissa only to receive a faint shrug. "He's enough like his father that I didn't trust him not to tell Lucius if it suited him, or use the threat of telling Lucius to coerce me. So I made it that he can't tell. And if there's one thing I learned from meeting You-Know-Who, it's that fear of death can be a powerful motivator. Ready, Tara?"

"I can't believe you're going to-"

"Mother, please. I wouldn't betray Harry anyway. I'm not in any danger." Extending her arm in his direction, Altaira quirked her eyebrow in a credible imitation of the look that her mother had shot Harry after swearing her own Unbreakable Vow. "Ready?"

Taking hold of her arm, Harry waited for her to grasp his wrist before looking over at Narcissa. "You sure you this is a good idea?" Rather than respond, Narcissa closed the distance between them and lay the tip of her wand against their wrists. "Right then. Altaira Malfoy… do you swear that you will protect any secret shared with you by Harry James Potter regarding his origin or abilities unless explicitly told you are allowed to do otherwise?"

"I do."

"Do you swear that you will protect any information regarding Harry James Potter's origin or abilities that you discover for yourself unless explicitly told you are allowed to do otherwise?"

"I do."

"Do you swear to eschew trousers, jeans, shorts, and other garments based on trousers, and wear only skirts or dresses from this day forth unless asked to do otherwise by Harry James Potter?"

"I do!" Just like with Narcissa, three tongues of fire wound around their arms before dissipating, and then Altaira let out a whoop before pumping her fist. "Yes! Take that, Mother! You can't try and convert me anymore!"

Crossing her arms over her chest, Lily let out an affronted huff. "I'm not that bad!"

"Yes you are." The response came from a pair of identical voices, and Jasmine and Rose exchanged looks before giggling softly. Sobering, Rose jerked a thumb in Jasmine's direction. "She actually likes trousers but I only wear them because it's easier than listening to you lecture me. Harry, when it's my turn to take the vow, you can use the version that you had Tara swear. I'm very okay with that."

"This is the thanks I get for encouraging my children to be more progressive. If I wasn't dying to hear Harry's story, I'd be storming out of here right now."


"So, you're really more like eighteen then? I mean, age is going to get wonky what with the time travel and all, but still. Eighteen-ish? Not eleven?"

Harry let out an incredulous chuckle as he met Altaira's eyes in the mirror. "Really? That's the part you want to focus on? I'm not from this universe, you didn't exist in the one I came from, Jasmine and Rose don't either because that version of my parents died when I was a year old, I killed your father and your brother there, I'm now part-Asgardian or close enough, I'm related to Loki, I've got a valkyrie who was born around the same time as Ignotus Peverell wanting to use me as a stand-in for her girlfriend, and my mental age is what captures your attention?"

Circling around, Altaira hopped up to sit on the vanity before shrugging, reaching out to place one of her hands over his still-feminine one. Harry was actually getting a bit worried to be honest; it was approaching three in the afternoon and he was still a girl. He hadn't used any magic since he'd lit up his fingertip, so why wasn't he reverting back into Harry yet? "Well yeah. It means I don't have to worry about this 'mature for your age' thing being a phase that wears off once you have other boys to hang around at Hogwarts. Which in turn makes you much more dateable."

Thanks to her change in position, Harry was forced to turn away from the mirror to eye Altaira incredulously. "…what?"

"Work with me here, Harry." Removing her hand from his, Altaira began ticking off points on her fingers. "You cook. You clean up after yourself. You don't smell like a troll. You've got a sense of humor that doesn't involve the bathroom. You're smart in general. You're nice to snuggle with. You're mature and - if I'm understanding your story right - you have dating experience but you're not like Uncle Sirius or anything." Having run out of fingers two thoughts ago, she gave up on that and reached out to tug at a lock of his long red hair. "You're also going to understand girls in a way that no other boy will. No asking if it's 'rag week' just because I'm in a bad mood…" At Harry's baffled expression, Altaira giggled and released his hair so that she could wave her hand dismissively. "Right, you weren't in our Harry for that. Your father said that to your mum once. Let's just say that I got to sleep over here for a week straight starting with that night."

Somehow, Harry found it easy to believe that his father would pull something like that. Then exactly what Altaira was implying hit him, and he paled. "Sweet Merlin. I never even thought about it. Do you really think I'll stay in this form long enough to have to worry about that? Or that I might transform one day and suddenly…" Trailing off, he gestured down at his crotch with a pained expression.

Altaira let out a full-on laugh at his question. "Don't know. Maybe? I'm not exactly an expert on Norse goddess-powered magical genderbending or anything, Harry. But the fact that it scares you means that you know it's nothing to joke about. Good enough for me."

"Mmm." Giving up on staring in the mirror in the vain hope that something might change, Harry turned and walked out of the bathroom, beckoning for Altaira to follow behind him. "Speaking of 'Norse goddess-powered magical genderbending', where exactly does that fit into how 'dateable' you think I am? Wouldn't it be weird to have a boyfriend who keeps turning into a girlfriend?" Not that Harry couldn't think of a dozen or more other problems with the idea of them dating - the age difference and the fact that their mothers were shagging chief among them - but he was particularly curious about her thoughts on that front. After all, he did plan to date again some day and so it might be something he'd need to take into consideration…

Trotting along behind him, Altaira quickly leapt up onto Harry's back, wrapping her legs around his waist before winding her arms around his shoulders. "Hmm. Right. Well… obviously it would be a bit weird. But you make a pretty cute girl, so it wouldn't be all bad." Harry's jaw dropped and she cuffed the side of his head lightly. "Look at our mums. Do you really think I'd have a problem with the idea of two girls kissing?" Point. "Besides, you look a lot like your mum as Dísa, and I look a lot like mine all the time. They're ridiculously pretty together. Therefore, we would be too." Harry made his way over to sit on the edge of the bed before twisting from side to side until Altaira fell off onto the mattress. Curling around his body, she rested her head on his thigh and stared up at him. "So… are you going to ask me out yet? Or are you actually going to make me wait until we get to Hogwarts and you find out for yourself that I'm the best girl for you? I obviously don't need to worry about someone else stealing you away from me, but your mum always says why put off until tomorrow what you can do today?"

Harry shook his head in bemused resignation as he reached down, running one hand through Altaira's hair slowly. "You are a strange and slightly scary little girl, Altaira Malfoy."

"That's a no, isn't it?"

"That's a no."

"Hmmph. Meanie." Altaira lapsed into silence, and Harry allowed his attention to wander until a poke to the underside of one budding breast drew his attention back to the girl curled around his hips. "You're different. Girlier. Why?"

Now that was a good question, one that Harry himself had been pondering and still didn't yet have an answer to. "I can do this silently, but would you mind if I talked to myself for a bit? I feel like since you know, it's a bit less awkward than sitting here staring off into space arguing with the voice in my head." Altaira offered a faint shrug and a bemused look that Harry took for permission, and so he cleared his throat. "Thrúd?"

Unlike during the battle in the foyer, the world neither froze nor turned blue as Thrúd shimmered into existence in front of him. A possible reason for the difference became immediately apparent as Altaira let out a gasp; whatever Thrúd was doing was fundamentally different from how she'd appeared to him earlier. "While I don't have answers, I do have theories. As the others mentioned, this exact situation has never occurred before in the collective memory of Loki and Amora, which is a very long time indeed. But-"

"You are ridiculously hot." Uncurling from her spot around Harry, Altaira tumbled off the end of the bed and hopped to her feet, closing the distance to Thrúd and then circling the bemused Asgardian slowly. "Harry, if this is what you're going to look like when we're adults? I need to date you. No, I need to marry you. A lot. Seriously, what's it going to take to put a ring on your finger?"

Harry rolled his eyes before making a pulling gesture, winding his magic around Altaira and pulling her through the air to land on his lap. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he brought one hand up to cover her mouth. Teeth sank into the soft flesh of his palm, making him hiss in pain before leaning down to whisper in Altaira's ear. "Keep it up and the next time you'll see me is when you finally manage to find me aboard the Express." There was a soft whine but Altaira went still, allowing Harry to return his attention to Thrúd. "Continue."

Approaching the pair where they sat on the bed, Thrúd leaned down and stared into Altaira's eyes for a few seconds before chuckling. "I like her. A lot. I should see if we can get Mæja to create an artifact akin to Rensaren so that we can pass it to Altaira; I feel like the result would be hilarious." Oh sweet Merlin no. Those two combined… no. Just no. "As I was saying, while this hasn't happened before? I can wager a guess based on a few known incidents in the history of Asgard. I think that our essences are still in the process of mingling and intertwining, and so 'Hjördís' hasn't fully developed yet. Or hadn't until today. Your current form looks to be a fairly equal merger of your genes and mine; if this isn't your final form, then you may end up turning wholly into me whenever you transform."

Given that any female form would be foreign by his reckoning, Harry didn't find that particular prospect terribly concerning. Did it matter if he was mostly Harriet, mostly Thrúd, or equal portions thereof? He'd still be a girl. "Based on her reaction, I think I can guess which outcome Altaira is hoping for. Guess we'll just have to wait and see. I was just curious because… well, as Altaira noticed, I'm suddenly a lot curvier than I was a few days ago."

"While I usually try to avoid letting Amora influence me too terribly much… I suppose it's my fault for contributing such beautiful genes to the process?" Thrúd chuckled throatily, running her hands down her sides slowly and shooting a wink their way even as Harry rolled his eyes at the display. "If that's all?"

"Unless you have any tips for dealing with an overeager suitor?" Harry let out a sigh as Thrúd opted to fade into nothingness rather than respond, releasing Altaira once the redhead had disappeared fully from sight. Flopping back onto his bed, he let out a grunt as Altaira landed atop him, planting her bony little elbows on his chest as she rested her chin in her hands and stared down at him. "You're only eleven. At least I'd have an excuse for being interested in dating or marrying someone, what's your excuse?"

One slender black brow rose as Altaira stared down at him with a bemused grin on her face. "You're joking, right? I mean, compared to my mum, I'm a slow-bloomer. She was already noshing older boys at my age." Eyes widening, Harry stared up at Altaira in… was it horror? Disgust? Disbelief? All of the above? He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that revelation - assuming, of course, that Altaira was telling the truth and not just trying to freak him out - but it was certainly nothing positive. "What? She was the youngest and least valuable girl in her family. She had to do something to try and attract a decent man."

Harry let his head flop back against the bed, closing his eyes as he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "…there are so many things wrong with that statement, I don't even know where to start."


August 19, 2001
Polridmouth Cove
Par, Cornwall, England, United Kingdom


Floating above the fine sand of the beach, Lorna Deane crossed her arms over her chest as she stared at the large house that was largely hidden from sight by the surrounding trees. There was something extraordinarily strange about the house, even if one discounted the fact that it seemed to be attracting occasional beams of glowing rainbow energy as of late. By day, it looked largely abandoned and decaying save for the smoke curling from at least one active chimney at any given day. At night, it sometimes seemed just as abandoned… and then Lorna would loop around and catch it from just the right angle, revealing a significantly better maintained house whose windows glowed with artificial light. And several times now, she'd tried to use her powers to circumvent the lack of easy accessibility and enter the property, only to wind up floating over Fowey or Par with no memory of how she'd gotten there.

The house was weird and one of these days, she was going to unravel its secrets.

And right after that, she was going to figure out who her admirers really were. Preteens or possibly young teens at best, it was always a pair: the same slender girl with distinctive platinum blond streaks in her black hair, accompanied by either a black-haired boy who looked like her slightly older brother or a girl with red hair whose taste in dresses made Lorna jealous. Strangely, she only ever saw them in the vicinity of the cove, never anywhere else along the South West Coast Path. Ever. At all. Which meant they were either really, really ambitious hikers who were coming from somewhere several kilometers further north - and cutting through the property that Lorna couldn't even manage to enter without blacking out and ending up somewhere else - or they were connected to the mystery house.

It was a riddle wrapped in a mystery occasionally inside a really pretty dress.

And if she kept obsessing over it, she was going to end up stuck out at sea far later than she wanted to be. Lorna descended back to the beach with a sigh, tucking a lock of green hair back behind her ear before crouching down and digging through her ratty satchel for the tools of her trade. One after another, she coiled lengths of rope and hooked them to the webbed belt that hung low across her hips, letting the spear heads at the end bump against her thighs as she continued her preparations. Today, she decided, she was going to try and range a bit further out into the Channel, bypassing the coastal waters patrolled by established local fishermen. With any luck, she'd be able to haul in a few healthy-sized ling and earn the quid she needed to get by in a matter of hours, freeing her up to enjoy the rest of the day. Maybe she'd even be able to stop by Fowey Town Hall or the library, and see what she could dig up about that damn house.

It was really starting to bug her.

Reaching up, Lorna gathered her shoulder-length mane into a ponytail and secured it high up on the back of her head with a hair tie before holding her left arm out away from her side. Her satchel wobbled from side to side as her trusty buoy worked itself free, floating up into her hand thanks to the ferrous fish stringer wrapped around its middle. With that, she was ready for another - hopefully - productive day and so she flexed her legs, launching herself back up into the air. After floating there for a few seconds, letting the sea breeze brush against her upturned face, she tipped forward and accelerated out toward the sea. As she continued to pick up speed, Lorna descended until she was flying inches above the surface of the water at speeds that would have made a powerboat captain envious.

Considering she'd was a teenage girl stuck living on the streets because her parents had thrown her out for being 'devil spawn', forcing her to exploit her unnatural powers just to survive? Her life was actually pretty damn awesome.


August 25, 2001
Sif's Quarters
Asgard


"And you say the Midgardians claim this is liquor?"

"A weak one, but yes."

"Truly? I think our rainwater is more potent."

Loki chuckled softly as she poured herself a glass of her new prize as well, opting to eschew a more traditional Asgardian vessel in favor of the unusual glass and gold flute that she'd picked up at the same shop. Stolen, technically, but it was hardly her fault. Few things were beneath her, but petty theft was one of them. It wasn't as if she could walk into a mortal's store and pay for their goods using Asgardian gold, though, at least not anymore. She'd tried. "To be fair, it's actually a stronger liquor diluted with cow's cream. Fresh, in this case. Only the best for my warrior goddess."

Draining her entire stein of Irish cream in a single pull - the better part of an entire bottle - Sif snorted before rising to her feet, brushing past Loki so she could grab a jug of cider. As she refilled her cup, she shot a disdainful look at the bottle Loki was holding. "If this is the best you can do, then perhaps I shouldn't be entertaining this strange new courtship of yours."

After screwing the cap back onto her mostly empty bottle, Loki wandered her way over to sprawl out on the couch in Sif's sitting room, tucking a lock of mixed black and blond hair behind her ear before quirking an eyebrow at Sif's statement. "And yet here we are, for the fifth time in the six days it's been since Thrúd reentered our lives."

"It's certainly not because of your strange new acquired taste for Midgardian liquor, I assure you." Sif took a sip of cider before smirking at Loki over the top of her stein. "You know, I'm going to be sad to see that form go. I'm quite fond of it, if our past four encounters haven't made my feelings known."

Her other eyebrow rising at that, Loki let out an incredulous chuckle. "My dear, I'll be lucky if those scratches you left on my back last night heal before Vetrnætr. You've made your feelings on Narcissa's form very, very well known." Taking a sip of her drink, she rolled her wrist and watched the light brown liquor play off the sides of her glass for a few seconds before meeting Sif's gaze once more. "I'm more curious as to why you think I'm going to abandon this body. Especially given how much you like it."

Sashaying over to the couch with more sensuality than Loki had thought the ásynja capable of projecting, Sif sat down before leaning in to run her free hand through Loki's hair. "Hjördís might not be your daughter in the truest sense, but she's close enough that I doubt you'll be able to stay away from her for long. This Narcissa who you're appearing to me as? She's someone important to Hjördís. That means when you begin visiting her on Midgard, you will be forced into contact with her… and I doubt she'll approve of what you're doing. So you will be forced to choose: this face or contact with your daughter. And we both know which one you'll choose."

Loki rolled that around in her head for a few seconds before conceding that Sif did indeed have a valid point. Not that she particularly cared what some mortal thought of her behavior, even one who was close to Hjördís. But it was only now occurring to her that Hjördís might object to her taking the form of someone close to her… especially given who that someone was to Hjördís's mortal mother. After a few more seconds thought, the corner of Loki's mouth quirked upward mischievously and she shifted form again, keeping her trademark black hair as she adopted a face and form that was all too familiar to both her and Sif. "Perhaps this, then?"

It took all of Loki's considerable willpower not to laugh loudly at the horrified look on Sif's face as she dropped her cup and threw herself backward, sliding across the couch until she hit the far arm. "No! Absolutely not! One of her is more than enough!"

Suspending her glass in midair with her magic, Loki tipped forward onto all fours and slunk down the couch until she was leaning over Sif. "What's the matter? You don't find my looks in this form to be… enchanting?"

"I do." Both ásynjur gave a start at that, looking over to find a bemused Amora standing in the doorway with a tray of food balanced in one hand. "So, merry sport with my twin sister and Sif, then? Interesting. Will you be taking Sif's form at some point as well, just for fairness's sake?"

Sif shook her head vehemently, squirming out from under Loki and jumping to her feet so she could back away from the dark-haired ásynja. "There will be absolutely no merry sport involving pairs of twins! My twin or otherwise!" Scooping the stein she'd been drinking from up off the floor, Sif shot alternating dark looks at Loki and Amora as she made her way over to refill her cup from the jug of cider. "By the All-Father, would it kill you two to act like civilized beings for once in your very long lives? Amora, what are you even doing here? How did you get in here?"

Doing her best to look innocent, Amora stepped into the room before jerking a thumb back over her shoulder. "Through the door?"

"I hate you both." Sif chugged her entire stein of cider and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand before immediately refilling it. "Seriously. Why are you here? And I locked my door, so a real answer to 'how' would be nice as well."

Setting down the tray she was carrying on the table in the middle of Sif's sitting room, Amora brought her hands up and let tendrils of yellowish-green energy dance between them. "Magic. Specifically, exploiting the loophole that Loki wove into the wards she crafted for you so that I could enter your rooms at my leisure." Loki rolled her eyes and reached up to claim her floating cup as Sif shot her a betrayed look; they'd all been enjoying each other's company at the time and so it had seemed reasonable enough. It was literally a copy of the mechanism that granted Loki herself access to Sif's rooms, retuned to recognized Amora's magical signature. "As for why, I thought the tray full of food would have made that obvious."

Loki finished her drink and set the glass on the ground before crooking her finger, beckoning for Amora to join her. As soon as the blonde was in reach, Loki reached up and pulled her down onto the couch, spooning against her from behind. "I've made no secret of my relationship with Amora, Sif. Did you really believe that I would be enjoying your company without her knowledge? Or that she wouldn't decide to make a move of her own?"

"I assumed neither." Deciding to just bring the jug of cider with her, Sif made her way over to lean against the chair sitting on the opposite side of the tray-laden table from the couch. "I did, however, assume that she would try to court me using my favorite foods rather than her own. A selfish lover is bad enough; a selfish paramour is simply unacceptable."

To that, Loki had no witty response because it did seem like poor form… and an uncharacteristically boorish move by a consummate seductress. Amora seemed utterly unfazed, though, stretching one arm out and using magic to lift the top off the pot that occupied a goodly portion of the tray. "Have you ever tried oysters, Sif?"

"…no."

"So they could be one of your favorite foods and you just don't know it yet." Wiggling out of Loki's arms, Amora sat up and reached into the pot, picking up one of the shellfish. "Not only are they an aphrodisiac, but eating them involves one of your favorite pastimes: stabbing things." Amora grinned as she reached back, sliding her hand along Loki's leg up until it disappeared under the black-haired ásynja's dress. A quick tug liberated the dagger strapped to Loki's thigh and Amora held it up proudly. "I'm not in the habit of carrying one of these, but they do come in handy on occasion." She carefully thrust the tip between the two halves of the oyster and then twisted, dragging the blade upward a few inches before pulling it free. "Like so."

Eyes widening, Sif leaned forward as she pulled a dagger out of… Loki wasn't entirely sure where, given that her on-again, off-again paramour was wearing a fairly simple red dress rather than the armor that she normally lived in. "Show me how to do that."


September 1, 2001
Platform 9 3/4
King's Cross Railway Station
London, Greater London, England, United Kingdom


The remaining two weeks of August passed in a markedly different fashion from the first two and a half months that Harry had spent in his new universe. With newfound honesty backed by Unbreakable Vows came significant shifts in how the occupants of the manor treated each other… or rather, in how most of them treated each other. James was still distant and uninvolved; at times, Harry was pretty sure he went two or even three days without seeing the man. Dora was only slightly more involved with the family, not that Harry blamed her. After all, she was in her first year of auror training and had her own problems to worry about.

Jasmine and Rose, on the other hand, had become far more active in his day-to-day life. Instead of seeing them only at meals or in passing when he was moving around the first floor with Altaira, they began seeking him out. They wanted to know more about Thrúd. They wanted to know more about Asgard. They wanted to know everything about Sif for some odd reason, and were quite disappointed that he hadn't gotten to spend too long with her. They were also obsessed with the tests he continued to run with Narcissa and Altaira that resulted in his transformations into Hjördís. Or rather, they were obsessed with their 'big sister'; Rose in particular was inordinately fond of braiding his hair in new and interesting ways each time he settled in to wait for his body to revert.

And he spent far too much time waiting for his body to revert because Altaira had somehow managed to become an even more constant fixture in Harry's life. His only real refuge from her was when he needed to shower or use the bathroom; otherwise, she was always nearby. But even more unnerving than her constant presence was her behavior. She'd started getting up earlier so that she was waiting when he got back from his run, and would fetch stuff for him in the kitchen as he cooked. She would help keep things in a rough semblance of order when he researched this or that in the library. She asked him to teach her spells they'd be learning that year at Hogwarts, but was very careful not to push too hard or occupy too much of his time in any one stretch. She even disappeared through the floo to Diagon Alley one day, returning with a handful of outfits that were properly sized for his female form and - much to his surprise - put more emphasis on function than form. But while the subject wasn't raised again, Harry knew why she was doing it: for some bizarre reason, she was dead set on getting him to see her as a potential girlfriend. And it might have worked, if not for… to be honest, the age gap wasn't as important to him as the fact that she was eleven. According to Narcissa, that was a perfectly acceptable age for people who hadn't been socially stunted by living in cupboards under the stairs to begin forming crushes. At the same time? Harry was all too aware of the gulf in maturity between them, and so he was going to have to pass.

For now, at least. If he was still around in four, five, maybe six years? And Altaira took after her mother in even more ways? Harry was willing to admit that he might be open to reexamining the matter.

On the subject of Narcissa… perhaps unsurprisingly, she'd taken things remarkably well. After all, it was 'only' her mistress's son who had been overwritten and whom they'd attacked, not her own. At the same time, she did seem to genuinely care about him and quickly came to serve as a combination of sounding board and therapist. They spent hours working together to try to make sense of his new feminine side, Harry using the time to ramble on about his world, his lost love, his frustrations with how certain events or facets of his life had unfolded, and anything else he needed to talk about. By the end of August, not only was he significantly more comfortable with his transformations into Hjördís - he was still by no means happy that they occurred, but he could function as a socially acceptable girl for as long as they lasted - but he had taken up the other Harry's habit of referring to the woman as Mother alongside his own Mum.

As for Lily… while there had inevitably been some stiffness after that fateful morning's attacks and the following revelations, she'd slowly but surely warmed back up to him after he'd convinced her that he hadn't come to inhabit her son intentionally - something that had required him to take another magical oath - and that he truly wasn't a threat to the rest of her family. Her acceptance - or more likely repression of her true feelings on the subject, he was willing to admit - was helped along by a rather valid point of his: if not for Harry's displacement of the Harry she'd given birth to, she would still be stuck dealing with a miniature James instead of the son that she'd come to enjoy spending time with as of late. And even she had to admit that her son was a little prick.

An oddly bright spot on most days came around lunchtime when an owl arrived from Su; they'd put his family's owl Silver Star along with the Owl-That-Would-Have-Been-Hedwig-If-He'd-Bought-Her-But-Was-Now-Albiona and her new spotted owlet Yīshēng Shuí on rotating postal duty ferrying letters between Fowey and Harwich. They were generally short missives with little information of significance to them, but he had managed to gain insight into her behavior at the tea party he'd hosted. Evidently, lacking any other examples to go by, she'd decided that maybe he and Altaira's behavior was normal enough for an English boy and girl who were friends, and she'd imitated them as her way of showing that she hoped to become a good friend too. Now that she knew better… she might still do it, she admitted, if for no other reason than to mess with Altaira's head.

And so life, while not perfect, was pretty damn good.

The last days of summer, or rather his summer, slipped away far faster than Harry expected and suddenly it was August 31st and he was helping cook one last breakfast at home. After everyone was fed, watered, washed, and dressed, the four Potters - James was busy with work, shock of shocks - Narcissa, and Altaira piled into the van Lily owned for when they had to venture into the muggle world and headed up to the Par train station. As they'd waited on Platform Two for their train to arrive from Luxulyan, Lily had decided to launch into a lecture about modern British rail service worthy of one of Hermione's long-winded rambles. Just as he'd been getting desperate enough to do something stupid, like apparating all the way to London, their train had arrived. A few minutes later, they were all safely ensconced inside what Harry now knew was one of eight Mark 3 carriages sandwiched between a pair of Class 43 power cars - not that he cared about any of it - and trundling eastward along the Cornish Main Line. Surprisingly enough, Harry found the ride itself a bit interesting; they'd taken the train south to Falmouth once to see a Falcons game in mid-July, but this was entirely new scenery to him. Bodmin Parkway in particular had him gawking as he pressed his nose against the glass, because there was a train pulled by a steam engine sitting in the station when their train arrived. Unfortunately, Lily had noticed his fascination and he'd been treated to a half-hour lecture on muggle heritage railways.

Harry resolved to work on his poker face.

Once the train finally made it out onto the Main Line and began the run to London, Harry had been amazed to see exactly how fast the train they were in could go. While he was no magical supremacist and knew the value of muggles and their inventions - having grown up as one and all - the fact that the massive metal hulk could reach speeds that felt comparable to his old Firebolt was still amazing to him. Given the Ministry used converted modern automobiles and such, Harry mused, maybe someday it would be possible for someone to convince them to abandon the steam-based Hogwarts Express and switch to one of these trains. The trips to and from Hogwarts would literally be cut in half… leaving students more time with their families on outbound days and returning them sooner on inbound days. It would be good for families. Given that his godfather was more approachable than the family patriarch, Harry made a mental note to pass the thought on to Sirius for him to suggest at a future Wizengamot session.

Although he still found the idea that Sirius Black was a member of wizarding Britain's legislative body to be downright scary.

Despite his intention to spend most of his time reading on the train, Harry found himself unable to keep his attention inside the carriage. Thanks to his upbringing - and he used the term loosely - with the Dursleys, his knowledge of geography was limited to primary school textbooks and wall maps. Until the Flight from the Letters and his subsequent trip with Hagrid to London, he'd never left Little Whinging. And so while a number of the cities that they passed through looked similar and so did some of the landscape, they were still all new to him and Harry found himself wishing he could stop time each time the train pulled into a station just so he could poke his head out and look around. Maybe he could sign up for too many electives in third year, he mused, get a Time Turner and then abuse it a bit during break…

When the train merged onto the four track wide main line heading in to London, Harry tucked his book away and watched out the window as they traveled through increasingly urbanized areas. Almost every station seemed to have extra lines that were the source of branches to other parts of England and Wales, and most had a train either arrive or leave as theirs sat waiting to let passengers on and off. Finally, the train pulled into London Paddington and the Potter-Malfoy brigade trooped off onto the platform, thankful for a chance to finally stretch their legs for a bit.

It didn't last long, though; Lily quickly bundled them onto a Piccadilly-bound train on the Bakerloo Line of the Underground and they were off again. Thankfully that took only eleven minutes and they were back above ground… in a very familiar area. Lily had raised a challenging eyebrow, and Harry had rolled his eyes before leading them straight to the Leaky Cauldron. The group had dropped off their luggage in the three rooms Narcissa had rented from Tom for the night - the twins in one, their mums in another, and Altaira and Harry in the third - and then filled the remainder of the day with sightseeing and dinner before retiring to their rooms.

Come morning, Harry had showered, dressed, and joined his family for breakfast downstairs before passing through the floo to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters in London. With both his and Altaira's trunks shrunken and stuffed in his pocket, Harry had carried Albiona's cage in one hand and the still nameless kitten's carrier in the other - he was going to pick a name for it soon if Altaira kept insisting she 'didn't want to get attached - as they'd made their way over to the all too familiar train waiting to take them to Hogwarts. After a few too many pictures for his taste, Harry had said his final goodbyes to his sisters, Lily, and Narcissa before boarding the train, looking up and down the corridor before setting off towards the back in search of an empty compartment.

After a fifteen minute search, he now found himself comfortably seated in a compartment of his own, his trunk enlarged and stuffed into the overhead rack along with Altaira's, their respective familiars' carriers likewise stored out of the way. And so without anything else to demand his attention, Harry finally pulled out one of his books and settled in to do some reading.