Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all other characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this version of the Mask belongs to New Line Cinemas; I'm just using them for this story. Oh, and 'Song 4 Lovers' was released recently by Liberty X, so that's not mine either

Feedback: I'd appreciate it, believe me

Harry Potter and the Mask of Loki

"Drop that… weapon," Snape said from behind Mark, evidently unaware of just where his new adversary had pulled the weapon from, "and then turn to face me with your hands up, or you won't have enough time to think before you're dead or injured."

Mark tutted slightly under his breath as he contemplated his next move. On the one hand, he could just turn around and knock Snape out before the bastard even had the chance to blink, then proceed to severely pummel him before taking the guy to the prison wing of St Mungo's…

But no.

That was too good for this guy.

Severus Snape had to be seriously humiliated- not to mention annoyed- before Mark was finished with him…

And so, for the immediate moment, Mark would play along, and then proceed to give Snape a confrontation like nothing the bastard had experienced before.

If it wasn't for the fact that he didn't do that sort of thing- coupled with the fact that it would have given the game away- Mark would have laughed like a maniac at the thought of what he would soon be putting Snape through.

"As you wish," he said, as he lowered the flamethrower to the ground, turned to look at his new adversary…

And then he smiled broadly as he finally saw Snape, as though he'd only just realised who he was dealing with.

"Snivellus!" he said, grinning broadly despite his current position. "It's so good to see you again!"

Mark had to give his foe credit; despite having his humiliating childhood nickname paraded before him, there was only a momentary flicker of discomfort before he was once again a cool, collected, adversary.

"How do you know that name?" he asked, glaring angrily at the green-headed man before him.

Mark shrugged casually. "I know a lot about you…" he said amiably, before his eyes hardened and he glared at Snape. "For example, that you're a traitorous git who took advantage of a man's faith in the basic goodness of people and killed him as soon as you had the chance."

Snape growled as he stepped forward slightly. "You dare-" he began.

"Oh, I dare?" Mark asked, laughing once as he glared angrily at his opponent. "That's rich; you tormented innocent people with undeserved punishments just because you felt like it, lied to everyone who thought they could trust you, and now you think you can order me around? Snivellus, old boy, if it wasn't for the fact that I'd die otherwise, I wouldn't take orders from you if you told me to breathe!"

After the second uttering of his detested childhood name, something in Snape briefly seemed to snap; pointing his wand at Mark, he bellowed out "Avada Kedavra!"

As the green beam of light approached him, Mark sighed and neatly stepped to one side, watching as the green beam harmlessly struck the side of Azkaban's walls. Tutting slightly, he looked back at Snape with a pitying expression.

"You have a lot of pent-up frustration, you know that?" he said, as Snape looked at Mark incredulously, apparently unable to comprehend what had just happened. "You need to relax and… talk about it."

A quick spin of green energy, and then Mark was dressed in a long white coat, with elaborately-thick glasses perched on the end of his nose. Raising one hand, he clicked his fingers, and a red leather chair appeared behind him, while a long sofa covered with the same material was close to the chair. A leather-bound book appeared in Mark's other hand as he lowered the hand whose fingers he had clicked and looked directly at Snape, a critical expression on his face.

"Now then, Professor, why don't you sit down here?" he said, a slight German accent dominating his voice as he indicated the sofa. Snape seemed about to say something (Probably a spell, given the way he raised his wand), but Mark didn't even wait for an answer; he just stood up, walked towards Snape, grabbed the former teacher by the shoulder with one hand, tossed the wand over to land beside the sofa, and then shoved Snape onto the sofa as he sat down on the chair once again.

"Well, now that we've got that out of the way, let's start," Mark said, as he tossed the book off to one side and pulled out a notebook.

"You-" Snape began, reaching for his lost wand, but Mark just sighed and clicked his fingers, instantly pinning Snape's arms and legs to the sofa, an identical leather belt covering the ex-Potions Master's mouth as he fumed at the other man.

"I said, let's start," Mark said, glaring at his former teacher before he sat back to look at the notebook again. "To begin at the beginning, why do you hate your mother?"

Snape's mouth began to move as though he was trying to reply, but Mark raised one hand to stop the teacher as he studied something in his notebook.

"No, wait, I already covered that detail before you got here; she married a muggle-born and as a result you wasn't as pure as you wanted yourself to be?" he said, looking teasingly over at Snape. The former Hogwarts teacher glared angrily at Mark, but the young man didn't even pay attention to what reaction his words were prompting in the former Head of Slytherin House; he just turned back to his notebook and sighed.

"As long as we're discussing your parents, tell me, is the fact that you aren't 'pure' the only reason you hate your father, or was it also the fact that he abused you when you felt you were 'better' than him due to being a wizard?" Mark said, the tone of voice almost sounding like he was asking Snape about the weather if it wasn't for the merry twinkle in his eyes as he watched Snape fume silently.

"Now then…" Mark said, as he studied the notebook thoughtfully. "That subsequent resentment of your 'impurity' ties into your desire to be known as 'the Half-Blood Prince', correct? You wanted to be respected and/or feared by your peers and associates, but since you were already labelled a 'Half-Blood', and couldn't change that no matter how hard you tried, all you could do was attempt to mark yourself as a cut above the other half-bloods and turn yourself into a 'Prince'?"

As Mark turned to look at Snape, he briefly felt something try to reach his mind as the two of them made eye contact, and chuckled slightly; if Snape thought legilimency would be enough to find out who he was, he was going to be sorely disappointed. After all, with the protection the Mask offered, how was anyone ever going to find out who he was behind the green mask?

"Of course, your status as a half-blood, particularly when you wanted to be a pure blood, was what led to your resentment of James Potter during your schooldays, wasn't it?" Mark inquired as he looked at Snape, and was gratified to see Snape's expression become ever more angry and resentful as he glared at Mark.

"It's simple logic, really," Mark explained as he settled back more comfortably into his chair as he looked scathingly at his former teacher. "James Potter was everything you wanted to be- starting with him being a 'pure-blood' and working our way up from there to include his popularity and Quidditch skills- and yet he just didn't care about all that. He even went around goofing off and making practical jokes when you thought that a 'pure-blood' should be all dignity, professionalism, and… eliminating those who weren't as 'good' as them, or did you only start to believe that crap after you left school?"

Looking critically at Snape, Mark sighed slightly as he noticed a briefly shocked expression flicker across Snape's eyes; he'd evidently made the right conclusion about Snape's beliefs. "You know, you are a sad, sad, git, you know that?" he said, sighing as he stared up at the sky. "Couldn't even get over it when he saved your life, just because you thought he was in on the joke from the beginning…"

Shaking his head, Mark turned back to look at his adversary; he could almost swear that smoke was coming out of Snape's ears, the man was fuming so hard.

"Anyway, as I was saying, that resentment of James Potter ties in to your resentment of Harry Potter," Mark said, chuckling slightly as he noticed Snape becoming ever more angry, straining against his bonds as he desperately tried to free one of his hands. "I mean, not only is he the son of James Potter- the guy you hated more than anything-, he's also almost everything you were before coming to Hogwarts- a half-blood raised by muggles- yet he's effortlessly good at details like Quidditch and making actual friends when you had to really struggle just to fly a broom and the only people who'd spend time with you were mainly terrified of all the curses you knew back then-"

At that moment, Snape finally managed to get one hand free. Fortunately, Mark was sitting far enough away from Snape to prevent the Potions Master from reaching him, but that evidently wasn't Snape's main intention; as he yanked the belt off his mouth, it was quickly obvious that all he wanted to do was yell at Mark.

"Shut UP!" he yelled at Mark. "You are WRONG! THE SOLE REASON I HATE POTTER IS BECAUSE HE IS AN ARROGANT-"

"Oh, shut up!" Mark yelled, tossing the notebook aside and standing up face Snape directly, the German accent vanishing. "Give me one clear, definite time when Harry Potter tried to use his celebrity status to get what he wanted! Did he ever say 'You can't do that to me- I'm Harry Potter!'? Did he ever try to get out of trouble by saying 'I saved the world, and you can't let one little mistake go by?'? DID HE EVER DO OR SAYANYTHING THAT SUGGESTED HE THOUGHT HE WAS BETTER THAN ANYONE ELSE APART FROM IN YOUR FEVERED, DEMENTED EXCUSE OF AMIND, YOU GODDAMN PRICK?"

"YOU-" Snape began.

"NO!" Mark retorted, as he stared angrily at the traitor; he was going to say his piece, and then Snape could try and say something. "HE DID NOTHING OF THE SORT! YOU JUST MADE UP ANY EXCUSE TO HATE HIS GUTS, DIDN'T YOU? YOU WEREN'T EVEN BOTHERED ABOUT WHETHER THERE WAS ANYTHING ABOUT HIM TO HATE; YOU JUST KEPT ON HATING HIM FOR SOMETHING HE DIDN'T WANT, HAD NO SAY IN, AND DIDN'T GIVE A RAT'S ARSE ABOUT!"

"SHUT UP!" Snape roared, as he suddenly reached into his pocket with his free hand and threw a small bottle containing some kind of potion at Mark's face. The bottle shattered as soon as it came into contact, the contents leaking over Mark's face and into his mouth as the small scratches caused by the breaking glass healed up. As soon as the potion hit Mark's tongue, he froze, his voice going silent.

"Ah, perfect," Snape chuckled, as he reached over with his free hand to undo the remaining belts holding him down. As soon as his legs were free, he walked over to Mark, who was now standing still with a slightly gormless expression on his face.

But then, Snape thought to himself, chuckling as he stared at the man who had dared to keep him contained, Veritaserum will do that to a person, no matter how much of it the subject ingests.

"Now that we've got that over and done with," Snape said, leaning in to glare at the now-silent Mark, "I'll ask the questions. Firstly, what is your name, and what is the reason for your apparent 'vendetta' against the Dark Lord?"

"My name…?" Mark said, turning slightly to look at Snape. "My name… my name is…"

Then he smiled, stepped back, spun around in his familiar green vortex, and then emerged dressed in a black wide-brimmed hat with white trim around the edge, cream trousers, and a blue silk shirt with stupidly elaborate frills covering t in alternating layers from the wrists to the shoulders. As Snape stared at Mark incredulously, Mark snapped his fingers, two maracas appeared in his hands, and he began to sing.

"They call me Cuban Pete,
I'm the king of the rhumba beat (Mark waved his arms slightly, maracas clasped in his hands)
when I play my maracas I go
chick chicky boom, chick chicky boom (Placing one maraca above his head and one below, Mark wiggled his chin a bit before tossing the maracas off to one side)

"Yes sir I'm Cuban Pete, I'm the craze of my native street
when I start to dance everything goes
chick chicky boom, chick chicky boom (For a brief moment, Mark stopped walking to wiggle his hips a bit, and then clicked his fingers to produce a tall, scantily-clad blonde out of thin air)

"The senoritas, they sing and they swing with terampero (Taking the blonde in his arms, Mark spun her around once)
It's very nice, so full of spice (Stopping the spin, Mark placed one hand on the woman's shoulder and leaned back, his hat almost touching the ground)
And when they dancin they bring a happy ring that era keros (Leaping to his feet, he spun around once, arms outstretched, and turned to look at Snape, who was just staring incredulously at his adversary)
singin a song, all the day long (Clicking his fingers, Mark jumped into the air onto a lamppost that had suddenly appeared beside him, the blonde having vanished with the same click)

"So if you like the beat, (Mark slowly circled down to the bottom of the post)
Take a lesson from Cuban Pete, (Smiling over at Snape, Mark landed on the ground)
And I'll teach you to-"

"ENOUGH!" Snape roared, as he raised his wand and launched a curse at Mark. Unfortunately for Snape, all that happened was that a small hole appeared in the shirt; Mark himself appeared unaffected by the blast. Looking at the shirt, Mark sighed slightly and looked back up at Snape.

"You know, if you don't like the song, all you have to do is say so," he said, tutting slightly as he shook his head in a disappointed manner.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Snape yelled, firing the spell at Mark. Mark, much to Snape's annoyance, didn't even seem that concerned about the spell; he just spun around in his green whirlwind, the spell harmlessly dispelled against the vortex, and Mark was back in his leather and denim outfit when he emerged, a wand drawn as he glared at Snape.

"Let's go," he said simply.

Then his eyes hardened as he glared at Snape. "That is, if you've got the nerve to go one-on-one with me, you coward."

"DON'T! CALL! ME! COWARD!" Snape yelled, as he launched a non-verbal spell in Mark's direction.

"Oh, trust me," Mark retorted, as he wordlessly erected a Shield Charm that caused the spell to harmlessly disappate before it touched its target, "I'll call you whatever I want… wimp."

"SECTUMSERPA!" Snape roared, firing the lethal curse at Mark; ducking to one side, Mark chuckled as the curse hit the wall behind him before turning back to look at Snape.

"You know, if you want to kill me, you could at least aim in the right direction," he chuckled. "How you manage to get anywhere I just don't know, you git…"

"CRUCIO!" Snape screamed.

"Expelliarmus!" Mark retorted, almost lazily, as he pointed his wand back at Snape, his only consent to the danger being to lean slightly to the right. The Cruciatus Curse grazed Mark's shoulder (Accompanied by a slight twinge of pain; evidently he wasn't totally immune to magic in this form), but the Expelliarmus blast struck Snape, knocking the wand straight out of his hand.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Mark yelled as Snape dived towards the wand.

Instantly, Snape found himself lying on the ground, his arms and legs pinned to his sides and his mouth tightly shut, the only signs of activity being his eyes, as he stared angrily in Mark's direction.

Sighing melodramatically, Mark turned to where he'd left the quill horcrux lying on the ground- still where he'd left it; the night was still and the quill was evidently too heavy to have been sent flying by their recent struggle-, reached into his pocket, and pulled out the flamethrower once more. Turning it on the quill, he pressed the 'On' button, and instantly the quill was reduced to ashes by the flames, a faint tinge of green floating into the sky as the fire died down.

"One to go…" Mark sighed to himself, as he turned back to look at Snape. "And as for you, buddy…" he growled, as Snape stared angrily back at him. "You can just stay right where you are until the aurors come and get you."

Bending his knees slightly, Mark crouched down on the ground, and then leapt into the air, flying through the night sky at a rapid speed, leaving Snape to silently stare after him, fuming in rage, but unable to do anything about it but wait for the aurors to arrive; the Body-Bind curse didn't wear off after a certain length of time, unfortunately for him.

Mark, however, wasn't thinking about Snape right now. He wasn't even thinking about what he would do to eliminate Nagini now that all the other horcruxes were destroyed; that wouldn't be too hard to deal with, he was sure.

No, what concerned him now was Ginny.

After all, even with the Mask, there was no guarantee he'd manage to stop all the Death Eaters that Voldemort was sure to have around him- even the Dark Tosser wouldn't be arrogant enough to neglect details such as bodyguards- leaving Harry wondering what he should do regarding his possible 'final farewell' to Ginny.

Namely, should he say goodbye to her as Harry, or as Mark?