I'm really so sorry about leaving this for so long. I've just had school and revision and the 'if you don't get an A in your GCSE's you will die' talk for the last couple of weeks. So I'm going to try to write a chapter a night from now on.
Loki stood in the centre of the golden balcony staring into the rip in the cliff face, the rip that now looked as gigantic as ever now that he had noticed it. He closed his eyes and pictured where he was going, what he imagined the inside of that cave looked like, well as close to it as he could possibly get. Loki's breathing became deep and slow, he nearly felt the weight of his amour appear on his arms but he knew that he didn't need his amour where he was going, he shook his head and tried to clear his mind. It was racing, he felt more alive than he had ever felt, the adrenaline surging through him. Finally he was going to get away, leave this inescapable perfect hell.
As quickly as it had started Loki felt himself being sucked through that horrific tube and flying through the air. When he landed he didn't immediately look around, he was more preoccupied that he felt although he was going to be sick, but when he did finally gain some form of composure he knew he was somewhere. He silently wished that he was in the right place. It was a dark, low cave with quiet drips skulking down the walls. It was a truly grotesque place with nothing of the golden majesty of Asgaurd.
Loki took in a deep breath of the stale air and began to walk forward. Putting his hands against the wall to try to look for the 'portal' that was supposedly somewhere in this place. Suddenly there was a flash of blinding white light and Loki once again was being pulled. Ripped forward by imaginary hooks, it was as if he was flying through the bi-frost but more forcefully. Loki screamed out in pure fear. He was going to get ripped apart.
Hermione was watching the owls fly through the clock tower that overlooked Hogwarts. Since recent events she liked to be alone. Watching the owls fly with letters and happiness sent from home. Hermione didn't know why she suddenly felt the thought of being alone so appealing; she just didn't see any reason to be in the hustle and bustle of day to day school life when she didn't need to be.
Suddenly an owl began to float gently down as if it was balancing on a cloud, it had begun to dive and then spread out its wings in a flash. The wind seemed to grow, swirling around beneath the bird and then a bright, blinding light. The owl swooped away dropping its precious load and soaring away.
Hermione had jumped out of the way of the flash and had hidden beneath one of the cold, stone stairs to try to avoid the blast. She had her wand outstretched, a curse on her lips, she was prepared to scream out at whoever had exploded in front of her. But there was someone there, defiantly. Whoever was there was lying on the floor, not moving, didn't look like they were breathing and didn't look, well, normal. He was wearing dark green material with silvery metal plates. Hermione couldn't really tell much more than that, but he was defiantly not getting up.
Hermione went over to him, slowly. Watching every step she took. As she got closer she realised there was smoke coming from his clothes. She slowly knelt down next to him, put her wand down next to her leg and gently placed her hand on his shoulder to try to turn the stranger over. But suddenly his eyes flashed open. Hermione leapt back and grabbed her wand; she pointed her want straight at him and watched as he slowly pulled his hands out.
"Who are you?!" Hermione shouted him. The man looked shocked at the sight, she thought, of another human.
"Ah, my head." The man groaned and pulled his hands through his hair. Hermione shook her wand.
"Answer me!" she shouted again.
"Alright! Ok! Just stop shouting! I feel like I've drunk ten caskets of ale!" The man moaned again. Still not quite opening his eyes. "I'm Loki Odinson, you are?"
