A/N: It's somewhat amusing, the comments I get concerning sidelining Harry when I felt that it was fairly obvious at the beginning of the story that this wasn't Harry's tale in the same way that Harry Potter is. I do think of Harry and Hermione as a unit in my head and that won't change, but Harry no longer has the dominant role in what is now a partnership rather than a hero accompanied by his critical thinking engine/plot exposition vessel. Though there might now be elements of heroine accompanied by her allied dragon. I find TRuS!Harry fun to write, given that I've balled up all the canon angst and tossed it out the window, but even if I presumed that both of them might eventually develop a sense of humor, I don't think Harry solved a puzzle on his own in the entire series.

To Ride Upon Svadilfari

-Chapter Twelve-

Down the Throat of the Einstein-Rosen Bridge

Traveling along the Bifrost wasn't at all like Apparation. Apparation was at most a sensation of discomfort as one traveled immediately between one place and another; the Bifrost pulled them through a sky bursting with glistening stars, hung like jewels in the net of darkness. It stole Hermione's breath and for a moment, as she was given the impression of floating though she knew they were hurtling forward with enormous speed, she almost wished she could stay suspended in time and space until she could learn the names and stories of the stars and Realms that filled her field of vision.

But it was over almost as soon as it had begun and they were deposited onto a golden floor. The color extended, she noticed immediately, to the complex workings of the dome and the armor of the man who stood a sentinel in the center of the room, hands resting easily on the hilt of an enormous sword.

She presumed him to be Heimdall, especially as he kept his gaze at a fixed point, not deigning to look at them directly. But just as she thought that, he turned his head to look at her and she found that his eyes too reflected the color of the precious metal that was in such abundance here.

But she was distracted by the man who stood expectantly to one side. "Welcome to Asgard, Harry Potter, Hermione of the Grange," greeted the being who could be none but Odin. "I have introduced myself already. You'll forgive if we don't continue this conversation here, but I wish to bring you into Asgard under cover of darkness."

Hermione would have stepped forward to follow him as he turned, but Harry's arm barred her way. His jaw was set and his eyes watched the other being narrowly, his pupils faint slits. "Is there a reason you're going to smuggle us into your city?"

"Aside from the way you look?" Odin remarked with remarkable composure. "Yes. But if you want to hear it, you'll need to come with me now."

Hermione waited until Harry nodded tightly and lowered his arm before she stepped forward. For a king, Odin seemed quite prosaic, wasting no more time on greetings as he crossed the room in long strides. He indicated with his hand waiting horses, mounting one of them in a practiced movement. Hermione and Harry followed his example, but it did not escape her that Odin watched them as they did so.

"Heimdall did mention that you could ride," he remarked offhandedly. "Though horseback is a little different than dragonback."

Hermione tried to smile at him, but it was difficult. There was a distracting sensation twining itself about her ankles, where further red gold lay embedded in her skin. She hadn't noticed them when first they'd been pulled to this world, just as Harry hadn't learned of the Resurrection Stone's new place of repose until they'd gotten to a safer place and stripped themselves of their clothes. That had been when she'd learned of the runes that were carved into the flesh of her back and when she'd seen that she had what amounted to liquid gold in a complex pattern about her Achilles tendon. She'd seen them on the list but dismissed them; Epona's Spurs were useful only when used in conjunction with a horse and she hadn't had much opportunity to take riding lessons on horses that weren't partially eagles or didn't have wings.

But she mastered herself and ignored it. She'd have to take off her boots to use the artifact. There was no danger. That was what she told herself as she urged her horse into a brisk canter, claiming the right flank as Harry brought his mount up on the left. They were both right-handed, but if things went ill, Harry could transform and she could wield her wand without impediment.

Asgard, she found as she stared at the approaching city, was something like Hogwarts writ large, everything so obviously magical and precious that after so long, there was no more wonder to be gleaned from it. Everything was breathtaking scale and elegant lines, obvious wealth and ancient culture. Even as Odin slowed their pace to a walk and let them on a winding path through the city as they approached what might well be called either a palace or a citadel, she found so many things that roused her curiosity that it was no difficulty at all to sit in dumb silence and simply observe.

It was when they stabled their own horses that Hermione came to realize just how seriously Odin intended to keep them from the populace. Their feet rang against the flagstones, but otherwise the halls that they trailed through were empty and silent, as if they were entering a tomb rather than a place the living inhabited. But at last they reached a final set of doors that led to what seemed to be a receiving room. Odin seated himself in a throne-like chair whose seat had been cushioned by the thick-furred pelt of some beast thrown over it, the chair itself simple in design and the wood well-battered through use. The room was much smaller than what she would have associated with her first impression of Odin and there was an aura of well-use that almost shifted toward shabbiness that pervaded all the furnishings.

"Now we can speak," he said. "If we are interrupted here, it will be the first time in five hundred years that they've discovered where I retire to when I require more privacy than a king is afforded."

Harry's lips quirked faintly, but he remained silent, shadowing Hermione as she chose a seat across from Odin. "Your Realm is beautiful," she said earnestly.

"You did not come here to compliment it," Odin said, but it was said with a warmth that said her attempt at politeness was not unappreciated. "I fear you will form an ill opinion of Asgard's hospitality, but these are unusual times. I would have called upon both of you eventually, but events have transpired that have made it prudent to bring you here now."

"Must be bad," Harry commented.

"It is," Odin replied. Any warmth that he'd formerly possessed was nothing more than cold ash. "The time when I called upon the souls of mortal men is long past. No human had walked the halls of Asgard for hundreds of years until yesterday, when my son brought home his mortal paramour and with her an even more unwelcome visitor. Thor told me that both of you came into contact with the Tessaract. What was your impression of it?"

"Its song rang false," Harry answered immediately, then grimaced as he realized he might be expected to explain.

But Odin forestalled him. "I have hunted dragons. I am familiar with their senses."

Harry nodded, relaxing slightly in his seat. "It promised power, but it's sentient. And anything was a sentience of its own, however rudimentary, has its own agenda. That's common knowledge."

"Not so common as one might hope. And you?"Odin asked, turning the question on Hermione. "You were the one to breach its defenses. How did it seem to you?"

Hermione frowned. "It didn't seem like much of anything to me," she confessed.

"Then I do not know whether to say you have wisdom or you lack ambition," Odin said thoughtfully. "Or perhaps you simply escaped the notice of the Tessaract."

"But the Tessaract was secured," Hermione said, not mentioning her personal hypothesis that it would be more difficult for the Tessaract to interact with someone who had Occlumens training. Only his dragon-self had made Harry susceptible to hearing it, but he hadn't felt the tug of it strongly. "And when Thor spoke of it, in many ways it sounded like simply one of many threats secured in your armory."

Odin inclined his head."That is true. In our armory lies the power to destroy these Nine Realms thrice over, but few of them are malicious in and of themselves. The Tessaract will beguile, but it will never do more than manipulate what darkness already lay in the heart of its controller. And it can be controlled. What we now face is a threat to us all."

"But why bring us?" Hermione asked tentatively. "We're hardly Earth's only heroes."

"Because both my sons think me a fool," Odin answered bluntly. "And because my elder son is a fool, and my younger son will take my elder son for one. I have known my sons from their birth up, so I am hardly a stranger to the way they will think and act. Should something unforeseen occur in our defense of the Aether, Thor will do as he is always done, which is to follow through with his own will, heedless of the danger he places others in. I have banished him to Midgar once for such an offence and though it was his pride involved rather than his heart, both are capable of making one blind."

Hermione exchanged a glance with Harry.

"So we're here to stop Thor from doing anything stupid?" Harry asked tentatively. "Or are we here to protect Thor while he's doing something stupid?"

"No. I have always given both my sons freedom to make their own decisions, even when they are poor ones. If I treat them as weak and in need of my constant guidance, they will never learn properly of consequences. Their nature and their position protects them from much of the hardship that is the reality of many of the Nine Realms. It is hard for we æsir to grow be something more than childlike and harder yet for princes born when Asgard had already established itself as greatest of the Nine. And Thor has companions of his own, to assist him in whatever plot he might hatch. But he cannot help himself; he will seek the guidance of his brother."

"Loki?" Harry asked. "He didn't seem particularly fond of Thor, last time I met him."

Hermione had been told that an illusion of her unconscious body laying at Loki's feet had made Thor charge into the glass prison like a maddened bull, not realizing it was illusion until the door had already sealed shut. Hermione very much resented being used as bait, but the fact that Loki's illusion had made her ignore a soldier until he was but two feet from her was more disturbing. She was accustomed to having the upper hand when it came to battles of invisibility. The fact that Loki was obviously more flexible but no less powerful was alarming. Especially given what she knew about his true motivations.

"Fond? No. They are too different for such a simple idea to be what defines their relationship. They are brothers. Thor has depended on Loki's agile wit to escape the consequences of his actions for almost as long as they could walk. Whether Loki will agree to help him now is a matter in some doubt. He would need a powerful motivation. But if caprice makes him agree, he will exploit his brother's need for him. He will not be able to help himself."

"What I have brought you here to do," Odin told them with an unyielding manner that left no room for their own opinions, "is to protect Loki from himself. The being that came back to Asgard from Midgard was almost a stranger to me. I do not know what has happened to unbalance him so. But I knew, from the moment that he failed to see through your illusions, that it was something that threatened his fundamental self."

Harry blinked, a clear film sweeping over his eye before his more human eyelids closed. "What do you mean?" he demanded.

"Your illusions are just that, are they not? No more than donning a mask."

Hermione nodded slowly. "This is the strongest glamour that we're capable of. We stretch it thin, because Harry's taller than he appears and my hands aren't where they should be."

Odin's brows had lifted a little at the word glamour, but then he nodded to himself. "You should be aware," he said, "that the words you use to describe and shape your magic are not translatable by the All-Tongue. I believe this to be because your magic originated from another world. You would not be able to learn our magic and we might never understand yours. Or so my experience has led me to believe, having watched your conversations through the eyes of my ravens."

"So you can't understand magical terms?" Hermione asked, somewhat interested in this despite herself. "Does it just sound like a foreign language? Because it's bastardized Latin, mostly."

"No. A foreign language implies that one might be capable of learning it. And I am fluent in Latin by virtue of the All-Tongue. The words shift themselves in one's memory when one tries to recall them. Not even Huginn and Muninn can do so. It sounds quite beautiful, in its way, but it makes little more sense than trying to glean words from music."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance. "What about something like Muggle?" Harry asked. "It's more a nonsense word than part of any magical language.

Odin frowned, then nodded his head. "You are correct in that it isn't a word I have ever heard, but it isn't something that it impossible to reproduce. Muggle. What was it supposed to represent?" he asked.

"It's a term to describe nonmagical humans," Hermione responded. Odin nodded his understanding and Hermione relaxed. She'd never considered a communication barrier, but she supposed they were lucky to have been translated to an Earth where everyone still spoke the languages they'd been accustomed to on their world. Being unable to speak the language would have proved nightmarish.

"If you must speak of your magic, do so in broad terms. Use our words for things, if you can. Our magic is less involved with language than yours seems to be."

They both murmured their understanding. "But our...illusions, what do you mean when you say that Loki should have seen through them?" Hermione asked.

"As I implied, you only donned a mask. Loki is a master of shapeshifting, capable of changing his very self to suit his whim. When he is a bird, he does not simply wear its appearance. He is, for all intents and purposes, a bird bearing the mind and soul of Loki. And he does this with the ease that most reserve for changing their garb. Your trick ought to have been laughable to him, yet he was taken in by it."

"Is it possible that he saw and simply chose to do nothing?" Hermione asked, begrudging though she was to admit to have been so easily taken in.

But Odin allayed that fear. "No," he replied. "If he saw you to be a dragon, he would have no reason not to attempt to bring you under his compulsion. You would represent an enormous tactical advantage the Avengers could not hope to match. You saw what he was capable of with the aid of only mortal help."

"Not even as part of some strategy within a strategy?" Harry asked.

"If Loki had been himself and truly wished to subjugate Midgard, I fear that he would have done so. Thor inherited his mother's warm heart and my strength, but Loki took the lion's share of cunning from the both of us. I remind you that he is a shapeshifter with few limits. From what Thor tells me, the Avengers began their alliance more likely to destroy each other than cooperate. What was to stop Loki from masquerading as one of their number and spreading dissention? They were strangers to each other, so none of them would have been in a position to realize there was something amiss with their behavior? What was to stop him from replacing your Director Fury? Yet he did none of these things. Though I did not tell Thor this, I suspect that Loki allowed you to win."

Neither Harry nor Hermione made any response to that. Hermione subtly tucked her knowledge of Thanos between the pages of one of the innumerable books in her mental library.

The brow above Odin's good eye rose. "You do realize that I have been Loki's father for over a thousand years. You need centuries more practice if you intend to lie to me." His eye was trained not on her, but on Harry, who scowled.

"Why am I surrounded by bloody mind readers? Yes, we know something. But first, I have a question. What did you do with Loki?"

"He is imprisoned."

"Somewhere secure?"

"Our dungeons are secure."

Harry stared at him incredulously. "You seriously have him in your dungeons? Please tell me when you say 'dungeon' you mean some isolated rock in the middle of space, not as in 'he's downstairs.'"

Faint irritation brushed itself across Odin's expression. "And what would your people have done with him?"

"Honestly?" Harry asked, leaning forward slightly. "We'd have had him Kissed at the least."

"Kissing is considered punishment on your home? It must be a very peculiar place indeed."

"We have a...creature," Harry grimaced at the memory of Dementors, "devour the criminal's soul. They become an empty shell, devoid of purpose or personality."

It was Odin's turn to grimace. "It would be more humane to execute them."

"We do that too. And as for imprisonment, those creatures feed on happiness. We use them to guard our prison, which is a citadel in the middle of the North Sea. Not in the basement," Harry said pointedly.

"Are you reprimanding me?" Odin asked.

"If you feel reprimanded, you're probably doing something wrong," Harry said, still leaning forward aggressively.

Hermione squelched the urge to clip him upside the head. There was nothing particularly bad about the advice except the manner in which he was giving it, but she'd thought she'd finally managed to politically housebreak at least one of her boys. It appeared that it had not survived the dragon.

She worried too at how easily Harry divulged details of their world, but perhaps the time for secrecy had past. Still, she rather wished that Odin's introduction to Wizarding culture hadn't begun with one of their most barbaric aspects.

"Harry," she whispered. He sunk back into his seat in response, but the challenge didn't disappear from his face. She turned to speak to Odin, then hesitated. She spoken thoughtlessly before, but addressing him directly she found herself uncertain of protocol. "Is there a title we should be addressing you by?" she asked.

"In this room, you speak to Odin the man, not Odin the king," their host replied.

"Then, Odin, if you don't mind my summarizing, you want us to stop Loki from harming himself or others should Thor free him from his imprisonment? Is that why you've brought us here? In which case, isn't that exactly the opposite of what you said before? That you let your sons make their own choices? And, again, why us? You never gave a proper answer."

"When I am convinced his actions are truly his own, then he may have the freedom of them. For now, my belief that he was coerced is the reason that his head still sits on his shoulders. And as for why the two of you, it is because your power lays solely in sorcery. And Loki has not met his equal in magic since his mother. When I said I would have one day called upon you regardless, it would have been for the purpose of asking you to act as his companions. Thor has warriors to stand by his side, but Loki has not been so fortunate in making friends."

Harry's brows rose."And how would Loki feel about his father picking his friends?"

"It is expected of a prince, that his friends must either be chosen for him or be suitable for his station. If he disliked you, Loki would soon induce you to leave. And if he approved of you, he would feel less isolated in his preference of magic to open combat."

"Alright. Ignoring the gaping logic holes in that argument, why would we choose to stay?" Harry challenged.

"Because Asgard has something you will come to need," Odin said and he settled more comfortably in his seat, interlacing his fingers. There was a complex expression on his face that somehow reminded her of Loki at his most subtly smug. "For what does a being do, whose death is in question, but whose ability to age is not? Or did you intend to one day become draugar, living corpses whose flesh has decayed but whose will has turned against the living because their souls refuse to leave for the next world?"

Hermione exchanged an alarmed glance with Harry. They'd discussed what would happen to them, fused as they were with the Hallows. Possessing all three offered one Mastery over Death, but it did nothing to stop the aging process, though the raw power the three artifacts imparted slowed it considerably. Only the Philosopher's Stone offered eternal youth in a feasible manner. They'd made themselves Secret Keepers of the three and it'd been Harry who'd jokingly begun to refer to them as joint keepers after ownership of one of the Hallows had shifted.

Once they'd recovered the Stone, he'd noticed his magic was affected and come to her to ask the reason. She'd treated him to a very droll look and he'd quickly caught on. But Harry had no desire to be a Master of Death; his most fervent desire had been normality, or as normal as one could be when heroics formed such a major part of his character. He'd needed to surrender at least one of the Hallows to achieve that. It had taken him about fifteen minutes to make the decision, most of which were spent locating the Wand of Destiny among his socks. Harry had kept the Stone and Cloak because both reminded him of his parents.

And after he'd the priceless magical artifact in the chaos of his sock drawer, he'd stood before her, wand dangling from his fingers like it was something smelly, and Dark Lords had wept in their crypts as he'd grinned at her and said, "Well, disarm me."

Hermione had done as he'd asked, but the instant it landed in her hand, she'd shoved it back at him. Harry was nobler than she, as was made apparent by the easy sacrifice. She might have been tempted to actually make use of the thing, which would have defeated the purpose of their well-kept Secret. The Wand had been unimpressed by its transfer. It had worked far better for Harry than it did for Hermione, proving that it, just as much as she, had regarded it as 'Harry's Wand.'

Harry had called it parting out custody of their children, hence joint custody, which became joint keepers when Hermione had decided it wasn't quite so funny as he seemed to think it was when he'd insisted that he'd gotten to keep the daughters and she'd been left with the son who'd inherited Harry's temper, Hermione's bossiness, and the uncontrollable hair of them both. She'd thrown something at him, which had only earned her the comment, "And this was why our marriage failed. And when we even named him Wendell after your father. For shame."

Wendell had been the alias she'd used when she'd sent away her parents, not her father's actual name, but she had to admit that it was somewhat tempting for several weeks to refer to the Hallow as Wendell the Wand. When it had stopped working for her entirely, she'd let the joke die a natural death, but the term joint keepers always lent their situation an air of levity.

The intent had been to shed the Hallows before they died, using the power of their deaths to seal them away for a very long time. But now, as they were, there was no way to do so. And, because they had split the artifacts between them, there were questions as to how that might affect their dying. Hermione had the Cloak, which hid her from Death's gaze, so her non-end might be reasonably predicted, but Harry bore the Resurrection Stone. Would he be locked into an endless loop of reincarnation? Or would its association with ghosts make him rise as a kind of spirit being?

"And what would you suggest?" Hermione asked carefully.

"Eat of the Golden Apples," Odin said.

"But only for a price," Harry retorted sharply.

"It is not a gift given out to those undeserving. And there would be other advantages. Thor's complete lack of magical ability meant that he was entrusted with Mjolnir long before he was responsible enough to deserve the wielding of it. You have weapons of similar power, but one of our warriors might be able to give you skill enough you do not trip over your own spear."

Hermione blushed so deeply red that her fingers tingled and she covered her face in her hands. "I cannot believe you saw that," she muttered. "It was bad enough to have a dragon sniggering at me."

"Kind of hard to fear your spear o' doom when the first thing you do with it is break your nose," Harry added unhelpfully. But then his intensity returned. "I don't mean this as an insult, but do you really believe Loki can be saved from himself? And that he's worth saving? Because if you don't, if you have a shred of doubt, this conversation ends now."

A/N: Because Odin felt like he lost complexity in the second film and that was disappointing, I felt I owed it to the character to have him interact with his sons like they were his sons and not virtual strangers.

Also, because I got a guest comment last chapter that I couldn't answer directly, a short answer on why I had Hermione's message addressed to Hermione of the Grange. Thor has a bizarre manner of addressing people that's vaguely medieval, so in following that trend, I have Odin do the same. A grange is an outlying farm that tithes to a feudal lord or equivalent. So you could be 'of the Grange' indicating where you made your residence. Harry would not be 'of the Pot'. Potter is a profession, so if he were addressed in the same manner, he would be Harry the Potter. He could be Harry of Potter's Field, but that would associate him with the burial place of paupers and criminals. But I left it alone, because 'the' can be dropped and still be understood.

Aether.