Woo! Five figure chapter! Again! My second longest chapter yet to make up for the hiatus to come.
Okay, my god, 2500 reviews. I love you people!
The next morning, both Harry and Jane found themselves rising early, yawning, and in Jane's case, kissing the still sleeping Thor, grabbing and belting on a dressing gown, and heading for the kitchen. In Harry's case, he just rolled over and straight of bed.
After a moment of silent irritation, he got up and staggered, zombie like, out of his room.
Jane wasn't much better off, but ambled over the kitchen and began boiling water for coffee. Gag gifts aside, the Avengers didn't really believe in coffee machines.
Harry walked in a moment later and Jane smiled in sleepy amusement at his hair, which made a birds nest look positively neat. Of course, her own hair had a definite case of bedhead, and was currently hanging loose, but Harry's almost defied description. It had tangled up into a nightmarish thicket of fluffy black tangles that, along with his bright green eyes and pyjamas – Iron Man, this morning - made him look rather adorable.
"Harry?"
"Hmm?" he mumbled, looked up and peered at her. Then he mumbled something obscene, and concentrated for a few long moment, then muttered, "Accio glasses."
A moment after that, the item in question flew towards Harry, zipped past him and bounced onto the sideboard. Harry, confused, began looking around for them.
"Here," Jane said kindly, picking them up and walking over to put them on his face.
He smiled at her, blinking, still only half awake. "Thanks."
"No problem," she replied. "Do you want anything to drink? Tea, hot chocolate…"
"Coffee?" he asked cheekily.
"No, the last thing the world needs is you on coffee," Jane said firmly, making her own. "You attract enough weirdness," she continued, stirring it. "Already."
Harry wrinkled his nose in agreement, then got a glass, went to the fridge and picked out a carton of orange juice, poured a glass, perched on a seat at the centre island of the kitchen and began to drink, slowly and carefully.
As Jane drank her coffee, and slowly began to feel more human, she watched Harry, who was clearly nodding off.
"If you want to go back to bed, that's okay," she said gently, talking to him like she would her half-brother, Matt, as she went over to join him.
"'m fine," Harry mumbled, even though he was more likely to fall asleep than wake up. His head suddenly lolled, resting against her side, and Jane… smiled, shook her head and slipped her free arm around him, while taking an absent gulp of coffee.
"Silly boy," she said affectionately. Harry just made a sleepy mumbling noise and snuggled against her. She couldn't see him as a would be step son. He was too old and just… no. But as a sort of baby brother, ignoring all the disturbing ways you could think that through in terms of her relationship to Thor… now that was easy enough. "It doesn't hurt," she observed aloud. "That you are ridiculously lovable."
Harry didn't reply, and soon, Jane heard the light, even breathing of someone soundasleep. She could have moved away and gently prodded him back to bed. Instead, however, she pulled up a seat and sat down, careful not to disturb him, one arm still curled protectively around him.
The next person in was Clint. He probably wasn't the next person awake – Bruce rose early and meditated, Natasha did tai chi in the light of the dawn, and Steve usually went for an early morning run. After that, normal habits dictated that Thor would probably surface, then Loki quickly after, and then eventually Tony, after a good deal of prodding from Pepper, or JARVIS if Pepper was at work. But he was the next person in the kitchen. He walked in, took in the scene, and raised an interrogatory eyebrow.
"Someone isn't a morning person," Jane said quietly, in a wryly fond sort of way, nodding at the sleeping Harry. By now, he'd abandoned the orange juice and had put his arms around Jane, something he would definitely not have done under the same circumstances if he had been awake.
"I'll bet," Clint said. "Don't think he ever got the chance to sleep in, though."
Jane paused. The Dursleys, then school. Yeah, she could see how that would impinge on a potential lie in. "Yeah," she said, absently rubbing Harry's side. "I suppose so."
"Hey kid," he said.
He didn't even get mumble in response, as Harry wriggled and buried his face in Jane's side. She smiled affectionately down at him. It was a lovely tableau, really.
Jane, looking pretty in an ungroomed sort of way in her duck egg blue and much loved dressing gown, with the tank top and boxer shorts – pinched from Thor, so they looked more like actual shorts on her – that she wore to bed peeking out from underneath, coffee mug in one hand, the other wrapped around Harry, who she was looking tenderly at.
And Harry, in sleep ruffled Iron Man pyjamas, was snuggling against her, face buried in her side, arms around her waist as his juice lay abandoned, looking completely at peace with the world. And all of this was illuminated by the first, soft golden rays of the morning.
Clint couldn't resist. He snapped a photo on his phone. In fact, he snapped several. Since the flash was off, Jane didn't even notice, so one caught her idly twirling a strand of Harry's hair around her finger, so Clint had the time to send a round robin text to all the Avengers, Pepper and Darcy, with the words, 'mornings, huh?' attached as a sort of caption. Then he added, looks like the midget needs 2 go back 2 bed. Sending the text, he said, "Do you want me to take him back to bed? He looks like he needs the sleep."
Jane paused, and Clint wished he hadn't said it. She'd clearly been enjoying the moment, as had Harry. On the other hand, Clint had woken up after sleeping in a chair, and wouldn't wish it on anyone. Or at least, not anyone that he happened to like..
"Yeah," she said quietly, slipping out of Harry's grip. "Can you carry him?"
Clint nodded, and gently reached down and swinging Harry into his arms. Harry merely mumbled, before nodding off again. "Nothing much fazes him, does it?" Clint observed, with a swift smile.
Jane nodded, and gently stroked Harry's head. "See you later, Harry," she said softly. "Sleep well."
Clint tactfully pretended that he was deaf.
Then he nodded to Jane and carrying Harry back to his room, removing his glasses and putting them on the bedside table.
The only evidence, he thought, was his and Jane's memories – he doubted Harry would remember it when he woke up, or pass it off as a dream if he did – the juice glass and the pictures. Moments like that were like dew beaded spider silk in the dawn. Beautiful, but fragile, and gone in a moment.
"Well, I've got pics," he said, half to Harry and half to himself, with a crooked grin. "And it did happen." He patted the boy. "Sleep well, kid."
Harry did.
OoOoO
A few hours later, Harry woke up properly, and ambled out into the Tower, yawning. As soon as he got to the kitchen, everyone in there, Thor, Steve, Volstagg, Natasha and Pepper, turned to look at him, with smiles of varying shapes and sizes appearing. Thor's was his usual beaming grin, though tempered with tenderness, Steve's was warm and welcoming, Volstagg's was gigantic and guilelessly cheerful and kindly, Natasha's, only appearing after she made certain with a glance that this was Harry and he was in full working order, was soft, gentle and if you didn't know to expect it, you might not see it, and Pepper's was warm and slightly amused.
Harry basked briefly in the attention, then mumbled, "Morning."
"Morning, lad," Volstagg said genially.
"Good morning, Harry," Thor said, getting up to hug his son. "I see you've got up. For the second time."
"What?"
"You may not remember," Pepper cut in as Harry leaned into his father's hug. "But you got a few hours ago with Clint and Jane, who put you back to bed when it was obvious that you were still asleep on your feet."
Harry was, to put no finer point on it, puzzled. "Um…"
"The pictures were most adorable," Volstagg boomed cheerfully.
"Wait, what?"
Natasha pulled out her phone and brought up a couple of images. Harry shuffled over, curious, and stared at the phone, absently sniffing as he did so. Pepper coughed to get his attention and produced a small packet of tissues from her pocket, wearing a look that said that blowing one's nose was not optional.
Needless to say, Harry immediately took a tissue with a quiet, "Thank you."
Blowing his nose, he examined the photos, and the caption beneath. They showed him snuggling up to Jane, and for a moment, Harry thought he was the victim of some gigantic joke. While he actually rather liked Jane, he just really didn't expect that he himself would do something like that. And truth be told, he wouldn't have been entirely sure how she would react. If he'd had to guess, he'd have thought that she'd awkwardly pat him and look to escape the hug as soon as was polite.
He'd never have imagined her looking down at him tenderly as she cuddled him close to her side.
Unbidden, a memory of softness against his cheek, a petite, warm body around which he wrapped his arms and of strong, clever fingers affectionately holding him close bubbled to the top of his mind.
"Oh," he said quietly. Then another thought came to mind, and he looked his father in the eye. "She's right for you, you know."
He had no idea how much those casual words meant to Thor, who beamed like a ray of sunlight. "I am glad you think so," he said quietly.
Harry returned the smile, then went to put together his breakfast.
"That must be something of relief," Volstagg murmured.
"You have no idea," Thor muttered, with a good deal of feeling.
"Did they not like each other?"
"No. They liked each other well enough. But it did not go beyond civility," Thor explained.
"There was no spark," Pepper supplied.
"Ah," Volstgg said, nodding his understanding. "And now there is."
"Of a kind," Thor agreed. "And hopefully, it shall not be snuffed out."
OoOoO
Harry had his breakfast and endured a fair bit of fond teasing from his father, which he didn't mind. This was his father, after all.
Then Tony came up from his workshop, with a gleam in his eye that said that he had an idea. Harry had yet to decide whether this gleam excited him or frightened him, which was unsurprising, since it tended to inspire bother fear and excitement in equal measure.
"You know, kid," Tony said to Harry. "You make friends in pairs. Leading to a trio."
"I… suppose," Harry said, never having thought about that, and wondering what Tony was getting at.
"Do you know why?" Tony asked.
"No idea. It just… happens," Harry said, shrugging.
Tony nodded. "I'll remember that when you have your first threesome. Ménage à Harry, we'll call it."
Harry just stared at him, dumbstruck. "Wait, what?"
"Well, if you have friends joining you in twos," Tony said, trailing off suggestively, waggling his eyebrows.
Harry just stared at him.
"Yeah…" Darcy drawled. "I think you lost him, Tony."
Harry looked a little relieved as Tony sighed.
But Tony wasn't giving up. "Look," he said. "You want to sleep with a hot girl, right?"
The relief slipped of Harry's face, and he began to take on the look of someone who has just realised that the light at the end of the tunnel is, in fact, a flame thrower.
Darcy settled back to watch the fun.
OoOoO
Thankfully, Harry was swiftly rescued by his father and his arriving uncle, who swept him away while Pepper steered Tony away, berating him for being intrusive and making Harry uncomfortable.
In truth, Harry had mostly been confused, but he welcomed the escape as it gavehim the opportunity to ask a question he'd been pondering.
"So, if there's the Odinsleep... is there Odinsleepwalking too?"
Loki and Thor shared a look.
"You know," Loki said thoughtfully. "I never thought of that."
"I don't think it happens," Thor said slowly. "I think we would have noticed if father was shuffling around the palace whilst still in the depths of the Odinsleep, or indeed, sleep." He smirked slightly. "It would be funny though."
"Hilarious, even," Loki said, smirking as well.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Thor asked.
"I may be."
"How good are your illusions? Can you make them solid?"
"I can but try."
"Excellent. We'll put it on the to do list."
Harry would later reflect that their smirks were exactly the same, and so were their tones of voice. Of course, they were brothers, after all.
OoOoO
Meanwhile, in the labs, which Tony had escaped to after his telling off, Bruce was mentioning an upcoming social event.
"My cousin, Jennifer Walters, says she can come up at New Year," Bruce said. "Is that okay?"
"The more the merrier," Tony said casually. "She can drop by any time she likes. I mean, this is a Tower, even with Snow White and the Three Musketeers here we're not going to run out of space."
Bruce suddenly paled.
"What?"
"I'm imagining Jen and Fandral in the same room," Bruce said distantly. "This cannot end well."
Tony shrugged. "Hey, either she gets laid or she doesn't."
Bruce sighed. Tony, as he had long since found out, had a rather utilitarian view to casual sex. "Tony, Jen's shy, and quiet, and really –"
"Kind of like you before you came out of your shell?"
"Yes," Bruce said. "But without the… you know. The Hulk."
Tony paused. "Is it just me, or would a female Hulk be really kind of hot?" he asked.
Bruce shrugged. "Well the reactions to the Hulk tend to be more 'monster' or 'monster that's beating up other guys', or if you're Harry, 'teddy bear', than 'hot', so I doubt it."
"Actually, there are five very active fansites dedicated to fantasising about the Hulk," Tony said.
"… I'm not sure I want to know how you know that."
Tony shrugged. "I get bored. And that's nothing. Loki has thirty six, seven of which are solely dedicated to working out what he'd look like in tight leather pants."
Bruce just stared at him. "You must get very bored."
Tony shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose. Now come on, I want to see if we can collect and contain magical energy again." He reached out to turn on some machinery. It flickered on just before he touched, and he blinked. "That was weird," he muttered, before shrugging. "Hey, Jane, could you call Erik? He seems to have a better handle on this magic stuff than I do. Maybe it's because of what Loki did to him or something."
Bruce went to help, while studiously trying not to imagine his cousin as a Hulk and trying not to imagine her screwing Fandral. As a Hulk.
He paused. Surely that would mean neither party would have to hold back.
His brain then presented him with an image of a collapsing Avengers Tower and localised earthquakes striking Manhattan, before pressing the emergency stop button on that train of thought and evacuating.
"Bruce?" Jane asked, concerned. "What's up? Your eyes went a little green for a moment."
Bruce shuddered, took a deep breath, then said, "You don't want to know."
OoOoO
While Bruce was having disturbing thoughts involving one of their number, the Warriors Three were in the main living room and staring at a strange device.
It beeped.
They twitched.
"What is it doing?" Fandral hissed.
"Maybe it is performing some arcane function," Volstagg suggested.
Hogun settled for glowering suspiciously.
"Maybe these buttons do something," Fandral said, tapping a few of them cautiously. Nothing happened. A few more taps managed to turn the screen white.
"What did you do?" Volstagg asked, worried. "Is it broken?"
"No…" Fandral said slowly, as the screen reappeared with a 'Stark Industries' in the background. "I think I have discovered the insignia of the makers of this device."
"A makers mark," Volstagg said, nodding his relieved understanding. "It looks like it was made by some artisan called… 'google'."
Hogun grunted his disbelief as Fandral tapped away industriously.
"Look!" Fandral said suddenly, as a colourful box appeared on the screen. "Oh my… a most comely Midgardian maid." He paused. "No, two." He paused again as activity commenced on the screen. "Friends," he said, eyes wide as saucers. "Are they doing what I think they are doing?"
"I don't know," Volstagg huffed. "Because you won't let me see." He reached out and grabbed the device.
"No, Volstagg," Fandral admonished, "You are a married man and… by Odin's beard! That is…" he cocked his head. "Is that posture even possible?" he asked, half disturbed, half amazed.
"Possible," Hogun muttered. "But uncomfortable."
"They do not look discomfited," Volstagg said as gasps and sighs came from the device. "Say, Fandral, what is that object?"
"I do not know… it appears to be a stick of some kind. A stick that… buzzes?" Fandral said, unsure. He nodded as the object was applied. "Ah… how remarkable, don't you think?" he said. "This Midgardian technology, it is amazing. Why, I think that this is a Midgardian scrying stone."
"Do they know we can see them?" Hogun asked calmly.
"No…" Fandral began. Things happened, and his eyes widened further. "Yes, they can." He smiled cheerfully. "Greetings, fair maidens! I am Fandral of Asgard."
Volstagg frowned. "They do not respond."
"Maybe they are only aware of the scrying device, but not able to see back through it," Fandral suggested, then saw Pepper out of the corner of his eye. "Ah, Lady Pepper! Could you do us the favour of explaining this scrying device to us?"
Pepper turned, all polite smiles, and saw the device. "That's a laptop, Fandral, it used to belong to Tony," she said. "And it's just Pepper."
"Ah, Lady Pepper, such beauty must be commended by only the greatest respect," Fandral said, eyes dancing with delight at the chance to harmlessly flirt. He might be Asgard's Casanova, but he was no fool, and knew that, fair as she was, Pepper was very definitely with Tony. "But that respect shall be conveyed by obeying your wishes," he said, bowing. "Pepper it is."
"Thank you," Pepper said, amused.
"It is we who should be thanking you, Pepper," Volstagg boomed genially. "For you have given this device, this 'lap top' a name."
Pepper began to say that it wasn't a problem, then stopped as a very recognisable kind of scream came from the laptop, and sighed. "I'm going to make a guess," she said. "You're watching a moving image. A moving image that features at least one naked woman."
Volstagg and Fandral stared at her as if she was one of the Norns, a great seer. Hogun merely raised an eyebrow. "How did you know?" Fandral breathed.
And that was how Pepper Potts ended up explaining pornography to the Warriors Three.
It turned out that it was as much heavy going as she thought it would be, as apparently the concept wasn't entirely unfamiliar to them. Dirty books and salacious images weren't entirely uncommon in Asgard, nor was prostitution. And apparently acting out fantasies in private was a popular past time for young mages refining their illusion casting skills (Pepper was sure that Tony would have begged Loki for magic lessons much earlier if he'd known that he'd eventually be able to conjure his own porn. She was also equally sure that this was why Loki hadn't mentioned it). However, the idea of it being recorded to watch at leisure amazed them.
"Truly," Fandral had said in amazement. "Midgard is a place of wonders."
Pepper had stared at him for a long moment, then chuckled. "I suppose you could say that," she said. "But I never thought that porn would be counted as one of them."She paused. "You know, speaking of wonders, I can show the Seven Wonders of the World," she said, and shut the laptop. "On a better computer."
"Seven Wonders?" Volstagg inquired.
"The seven most impressive buildings or sites in the world," Pepper said. "There are different lists, modern wonders, ancient wonders and a few in between, but they're all pretty impressive."
The Warriors Three shared a glance. "Lady – I mean, Pepper," Fandral said. "You must certainly have our rapt attention."
OoOoO
A day after the return to Earth, the day before New Year's Eve, Loki announced that he and Thor needed to go to England. "We are having a meeting Cornelius Fudge, the British Minister of Magic, and Albus Dumbledore, the head teacher of Harry's school. In essence, Fudge is the ruler of the British Wizarding society."
"They are separate?" Sif asked, frowning in puzzlement.
"Midgard has not always been hospitable to magic," Loki explained. "It is not part of the fundamental way of life as it is in Asgard. Here, science has been supreme for much of the last millennium."
Tony looked smug.
"Of course, it routinely makes the mistake of discounting that which it can't explain," Loki added, giving Tony a pointed look.
Tony shrugged. "Far as I'm concerned, magic's just a science that Earth doesn't understand yet," he said. "Clarke's third law, and it's inverse, apply."
"Arthur C. Clarke was an author of speculative science fiction," Bruce explained, as all the Asgardians but Loki, as well as Steve and Harry, were looking puzzled. "He suggested possible futures for humanity in his writing. One of his 'laws' was that 'any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic'. Tony's referring to that and the logical reverse, 'any sufficiently advanced magic is indistinguishable from technology.'"
"Asgard's coming at it from the latter direction," Tony said, taking a gulp of his coffee. "Some of your magical stuff, like the Bifrost and your quantum field generators."
"A soul forge," Loki translated, for the benefit of the Asgardians.
Tony had had an up close experience with one of them on a previous visit to Asgard when Pepper and Frigga had ganged up on him and had him be examined in one, to see if Asgardian magic could operate on the shards.
The answer had turned out to be, yes, but it would be inadvisable unless there was no other option.
This had not noticeably dampened Tony's spirits, since he'd spent most of his time in the device chattering nonstop, questioning the healers and trying to find out every little in and out of what they did and how they worked. Or he had until Frigga had sighed, then gagged him with a flick of her fingers.
It was, she would later explain after apologising, for his own safety. The patience of a healer has limits and it is unwise to annoy someone who knows exactly how to put you to inconvenience.
Tony had sulked, but accepted it.
"The Bifrost, for instance, is created on Asgard and based on magic. The New Bifrost was created on Earth, and on the Earth end, is based on science," Tony continued. "But they're practically indistinguishable. In function, that is, not form. The Asgardian one is prettier."
"I'm sure the most skilled artificers of the Nine Realms will be deeply flattered to hear their work described as 'pretty'," Sif said dryly.
"They should," Tony said, completely unabashed. "Anything from me that isn't an actual insult is a compliment."
"Oh I don't know. Some of the insults count too," Pepper muttered.
Tony shrugged.
"Anyway," Thor said, turning to Harry. "I'm afraid that we must go." He knelt down and gently hugged his son. "We will be back soon."
It would take superhuman hearing to catch what Harry said next, whispered into his father's shoulder. "Promise?"
Fandral blinked and opened his mouth, then wheezed as Sif, carefully expressionless, drove an elbow into his stomach.
Thor hugged his son even tighter. "Always," he said quietly, voice thick with emotion. "I will always come back for you, Harry. No matter what stands in my way."
"Thor will definitely be back tomorrow morning," Loki said kindly. "In time for New Year. If the rest of us are not caught up in business in Britain, we will also."
"What is New Year?" Volstagg asked.
"A feast celebrating the end of the old year and the beginning of the new," Loki explained. "It is essentially the end of Midgard's Yuletide."
There were nods of comprehension.
"Anyway," Thor said firmly. "I will see you tomorrow, Harry."
"See you," Harry said quietly, hugging his father tightly, before releasing him.
And when Loki teleported the five Asgardians away, Thor waving goodbye, Harry didn't cry. He wasn't a little kid, after all. But he did look slightly bereft.
OoOoO
Thor was deep in thought as Loki's spell landed them in a quiet side street in London. Sif immediately looked up and down, then jumped in surprise as her armour shifted and changed into a short blazer under which lay a plain, opaque white shirt, a set of long, practical trouser and flat shoes, all of which were cut in a manner that might best be described as professional, yet attractive as well. "Loki?" she asked, in a tone that said she wanted an answer right now.
"It is only temporary," Loki assured her. His own clothing had shifted into an unsurprisingly perfectly tailored business suit, with a deep green tie, gold tie pin and emerald set gold cuff links, which, also unsurprisingly, he looked perfectly comfortable in. Thor and Volstagg were looking slightly uncomfortable in their own suits, Hogun was looking as deadpan as ever, while Fandral had taken to his rather happily, producing a mirror from who knew where and adjusting his warm red tie.
All their outfits were overlaid with warm, and Sif presumed, fashionable clothing. Loki was never anything less than well-dressed when he wanted to be.
"While we have no need to hide what we are, the British Wizarding Community is both secretive and paranoid, preferring to avoid having attention drawn to it," he explained. "And the British police, the keepers of the law, tend to take a very dim view of those who walk around heavily armed." He gestured at his clothes. "These are designed to blend in. We look like, oh, I suppose the equivalent would be moderately high ranked embetsadel, government clerks for the most part. Who, before you ask, command a rather higher status here than in Asgard."
Sif nodded grudgingly, seeing the logic behind this, and noting that at least Loki had remembered that she preferred not to wear dresses. "Very well," she said. "Our weapons."
"In your pockets," Loki said, and smiled slightly. "They are bigger on the inside."
Sif reached into her pocket carefully and reached around, finding her sword within easy reach. She nodded. "Thank you, Loki."
"I say Loki, you really do have a fine touch," Fandral said, admiring his new clothes. "Perhaps you should have become a tailor?" he suggested with a grin. Once, the comment would have been edged, possibly mocking. Now, it was light and harmless.
"And perhaps you should have become a butcher," Loki retorted wryly, with a grin of his own.
Fandral laughed, and nodded, "Perhaps, Loki, perhaps." He returned to admiring his clothes, and those of the others. "I must say, these all flatter us rather nicely, in a Midgardian sort of way."
"Indeed, brother," Thor said, before pausing and adding plaintively. "But could mine be a little less… tight? And I think Volstagg is having trouble breathing."
Volstagg was, indeed, going somewhat red.
Loki chuckled and twitched his fingers. Both of the largest members of the party let out sighs of relief. "My apologies, brother, Volstagg. I must have misjudged your measurements," he said, with just a touch of wickedness.
Thor rolled his eyes. "Aye, brother. Of course you did," he said, tone heavy on irony. "Now, if memory serves, the visitors entrance is this way," he said, striding off.
Indeed it was.
In every force of law keepers on the planet, there is a little one and a large one. They are usually old friends, usually experienced, and usually take the quieter beats, keeping an ear to the ground as they do and watching the world go by, occasionally indulging in a little bit of street theatre.
"Sarge," one said slowly. "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"
"I think I am, Constable," the other said.
The sight they were being treated to was the fascinating spectacle of five large and well built people, all in fine business suits and fetching winter coats, trying to fit into one red telephone box.
Telephone boxes are only designed to fit one, maybe two people, if both people are of about average size and know each other quite well, or, at night in seedier areas, are getting to know each other very well.
They were not designed to fit five people, none of whom was under six feet in height, two of whom, a blonde one – who looked vaguely familiar - and a red haired one, were built like a better class of rugby player.
In fairness, however, they did seem to know each other very well indeed, judging by the tenor of the argument.
"Which department, d'you think?"
"You think they work for the government, sarge?"
The sergeant nodded sagely. "'Course. See, Constable," he said in a tone of wise authority. "In the private sector, you can afford a bigger telephone box. And even the stupid tourists take turns. So. Which department?"
"Hmm…"
Then there was an explosion of sound as the big blonde one apparently lost his temper.
"I SAY THEE NAY, BROTHER!"
The two officers looked at each other, then said in unison, "Foreign Office."
They continued watching as a few moments later, the five somehow managed to squish themselves in. Even from fifty feet away, the carefully neutral expressions on the faces of the dark haired man and woman as they were pressed together and very carefully not moving, were clearly visible.
Then, oddly enough, the two officers became very abruptly interested in something else. When they turned back, the strange group was gone.
"Hey, sarge, where did they go?"
The sergeant shrugged. "Who knows, constable?"
"Why were they doing that, you think?"
The sergeant discreetly spat. "Diplomats. They spend time in foreign lands, they pick up foreign habits," he said authoritatively, shaking his head. "It's not for us to reason why."
The constable correctly translated this as, 'I don't know, and it's above my paygrade to care'. Swiftly deciding that both applied to him too, he followed his sergeant in resuming the beat and making sure that no-one stole the duck pond.
OoOoO
Meanwhile, in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic, the five rather rumpled Asgardians spilled out of the phone box.
"That," Volstagg said. "Was one of the least pleasant modes of transport I have ever encountered."
"Dear Volstagg, you have a gift for understatement," Fandral said, adjusting his clothing and flashing a charming smile at some of the younger and prettier Ministry witches. "Though I think two of our number found it bearable," he said, gaze slyly sliding over to Sif and Loki, who were still standing rather close together.
Both flushed, and Loki coughed, embarrassed, while Sif was hefting her visitor's badge (Lady Sif, body guarding and intimidation) and eyeing Fandral with a speculative gleam in her eye.
Fandral prudently shut up, and put Volstagg between himself and Sif. Just in case.
Thor chuckled slightly, then said, "Come, my friends. We have an appointment to keep."
As they strode forward, instinctively fanning out into a v-formation, Thor at the tip with Sif on his right and Loki on his left, Volstagg and Fandral behind Sif, Hogun behind Loki. They walked with the complete certainty that their long lives of adventure, war and heroism had given them, and the crowds of Ministry employees parted before them. As they walked, the enchantments melted away, and their ordinary armour was restored, weapons sheathed, or in the case of Mjolnir and Hogun's mace, hooked onto their owner's belt.
"That," Sif said, with a fair degree of satisfaction. "Feels better."
There was a general sense of agreement. While Midgardian formal clothing looked rather fine and was interesting in an exotic sort of way, nothing compared to what was comfortably familiar. The only Asgardian who ever really felt comfortable in suits was Loki.
The man at the desk didn't even look up, engrossed in his cross word. "Wand on the scale," he said.
Thor stared down at him, then pulled out Mjolnir, and plonked it on the scale with a pointed clanking sound.
The man looked up. And up. Thor was not a small man and there was a lot of up to look at. The man blinked, glanced at the scale, and did a double take. Mjolnir was weighing it down.
A small piece of ticker tape appeared. All that was on it was a long string of question marks.
Then he stared at Thor again.
"We have an appointment with Minister Fudge," Thor said.
"Name?"
Thor stared at him, then looked pointedly at Mjolnir.
"Right," the man said, scribbling a memo, tapping it with his wand. The Asgardians watched with interest as it formed itself into a paper plane and shot towards the elevator. "Go on up."
"Thank you," Thor said politely, removing his hammer from the scale and striding towards the elevators.
Thankfully, the Ministry Elevators were not small and comfortably accommodated all five Asgardians. This did not stop Sif and Loki unaccountably standing very close to each other. Fandral considered making a comment, then caught Sif's expression, considered the feeling of a metal badge being shoved somewhere unspeakable, and considered the virtues of silence.
On the next floor, they were joined by a very singular man. He was tall by human standards, and bulky too. He was heavily scarred, missing a large chunk of his nose and had charcoal grey hair, and though he walked with a stick, his eyes, one of which was dark and the other of which was electric blue, Sif and the Warriors Three immediately marked him as 'old soldier, to be treated with respect'.
Loki, meanwhile, knew him by reputation and occasional observation.
And Thor knew him personally. "Alastor," he greeted the other man cheerfully. "How are you?"
"Well enough," the older man grunted. He suddenly reached out with far more speed than anyone would credit him with and grasped Thor's chin, looking deep into his eyes.
Sif and the Warriors Three immediately went for their weapons, and were halted by a swiftly raised hand from Loki. Moody's magical eye swivelled over to look at them for a second, then swivelled back to Thor.
"Change," he said quietly.
Thor shifted into his James Potter form.
Alastor Moody examined him carefully, then asked, "What were you going to call your first daughter?"
"Eleanor."
Moody stared at him for a long moment, then released him and nodded. "It really is you," he muttered, surprised.
"You didn't trust Albus' judgement?" Thor asked, shifting back to his Thor form.
"I wanted to see for myself," Moody replied. He gave Loki an unfriendly look. "So you're the one." He grunted. "If I'd had my way, you'd have been locked in Azkaban."
"If you'd had your way, I would have been out within a day and become a Dark Lord to put any mortal to shame," Loki replied equably, though there is a flicker
Moody gave him a long look. "Maybe," he said. "But that doesn't change what you did."
"What's done is done, old man, and belongs in the past," Sif growled, hand slipping behind her back.
Moody's magical eye snapped over to her and gave her a cursory up and down. "I haven't seen that much cutlery on someone since I found the last of the Thule society aiding Voldemort during the war." He paused. "And it was less on him, more in him. Lehnsherr found him before I did." He gave Sif a hard look. "It doesn't frighten me. Not even on the Goddess of War."
"It should. Outside of my brother, Sif is possibly the most dangerous person I have ever met," Thor said, voice warning. "And he is my brother, Alastor. Watch your tongue."
Moody grunted. "That as may be," he said. "But I'm here to give you a warning, not exchange pleasantries."
"That was pleasantries?" Loki murmured.
"For Alastor? It was positively friendly," Thor muttered.
"Fudge is afraid of you," Moody said abruptly, cutting across them. "You represent a threat to his authority that he can't control, threaten or defame."
Thor frowned. "I don't seek power," he said.
"Doesn't matter," Moody grunted. "Fudge is a mediocre little twat and he knows it. He used to worry about Dumbledore, when he wasn't pelting him with owls every morning, asking for advice."
In the background, Volstagg mouthed, 'pelted with owls?' and looked puzzled. Fandral shrugged, as if to say that the ways of Midgard were strange to him.
"But now, he's got you to worry about, James, Thor, whatever you call yourself," Moody continued. "You were a war hero, husband of another and father of the biggest war hero of them all."
"I don't think Harry would describe himself that way," Thor said, voice low. "And he would trade all the fame and status he has for his mother back without hesitation."
Moody shrugged. "He's an orphan. Of course he would," he said simply. "But that simply doesn't register with Fudge. He's scrambled for every bit of power and fame that he can and he can't conceive of giving any of it up." He eyed Thor. "He's given Harry a bit of leniency in the past, and he will still: he doesn't want to get on your bad side. You were a war hero, and now you're a genuine deity as well. Some of the Wizarding community still worship you two," he said, nodding at Thor and Loki. "And your father. Things are changing because of you."
"How do you mean?"
"Lucius Malfoy's active again," Moody said grimly. "He's gone into hiding, but there's every indication that he's been working with –"
"HYDRA, yes, we know," Loki said. "I was going to tell you," he said to Thor, who had folded his arms pointedly. "It is part of the reason our friends are here."
"When, brother?"
"After this," Loki said. "When I, Sif, Fandral, Hogun and Volstagg did some investigating."
Moody gave Loki an interested look. "Where are you planning to start?"
Loki gave him a long look.
"You may as well tell him," Thor said bluntly. "He's an intransigent, paranoid, unforgiving old bastard, but he's completely incorruptible." Moody showed no signs of disagreeing with this assessment. He paused. "I would also like to know."
Loki sighed. "Very well. I wastipped off as to where the creatures that destroyed MI6 were created."
"Non-magical intelligence agency," Thor said.
"Spies," Fandral said, with some distaste.
"A necessary evil," Sif replied. "And there is a kind of honour in defending your home from threats that no one else can see, knowing that you will never be acknowledged."
Loki's lips quirked in a slight smile, as Fandral nodded his grudging acknowledgement.
"Malfoy is active again, then," Thor said, frowning.
"A lot of money has been moving through known Malfoy intermediaries, and a lot of his little birds are tweeting again. He's also taking control of a lot of Death Eater vaults after their owners met unfortunate accidents," Moody said grimly.
"Accidents?"
"Fury's work," Loki said quietly. "Malfoy has also been implicated in the destruction of three MI13 bases in the South East of England. He is believed to be working with the non-magical terrorist agency, HYDRA."
"Steve's old enemies?" Thor asked sharply.
"Von Strucker," Moody growled. "I knew he was up to his neck in this."
"So… you hunt HYDRA?" Thor asked.
"No," Loki said curtly. "Something much, much worse. Malfoy has an ally from one of the higher realms, he must have. One with the power and knowledge to slip the Disir into the very heart of Asgard."
Thor's eyes narrowed, and his hand drifted to rest on Mjolnir's head. "It sounds like someone, somewhere, needs to be hit with a very large hammer. And I will be happy to oblige."
"No," Loki said sharply. "This is dar work, brother. Not assassination, but quiet and secretive. We hunt monsters in the shadows, and we will need to be quiet and quick. For all your virtues, you are not suited for that sort of work."
"As James, I was," Thor retorted.
"He could be, when it suited him," Moody supplied grudgingly, at a series of interrogatory glances. "Your brother's right, though. Your powers and that hammer will attract far too much attention in a fight."
Thor scowled.
"Thor," Loki said. "We are cutting off their escape routes, their places to hide. We are forcing them out into the light. And then, when they have nowhere else to go..." his gaze drifted to Mjolnir. "You can bring the hammer down."
Thor was silent. "I do not like this," he admitted.
"Like it or not, the dark wizard's right," Moody growled, stepping off as the lift reached another floor. No one had joined them at any of the others. If the sight of Mad Eye Moody did not discourage them, the sight of Thor, Loki and the Warriors Three did. "After all… set a thief to catch a thief."
"Well," Loki said after a moment. "That was pleasant."
"What a horrible old mortal," Sif said.
"Less horrible, more incredibly paranoid, if my sources are right," Loki said quietly.
"Which is justified, since he was an exceptional dark wizard catcher, one of the best there's ever been. And this means that he has a truly phenomenal amount of enemies," Thor said. "He was even attacked on the privy once."
"What, through the door?" Volstagg asked.
"No, through the actual privy."
Fandral shuddered. "I can see why that would leave a fellow somewhat disconcerted," he said.
"That does not excuse his rudeness, however," Thor said grimly.
"He is not wrong, Thor," Loki said. "I did more terrible things in a day than many of the dark wizards he defeated managed in decades."
"You have changed since then," Thor said, frowning.
"It does not change the fact that I did them," Loki snapped. "I have blood on my hands, brother, innocent blood! And if I ever forget it, I risk taking that path again. So I must remember, and if it means having men like that remind me day in day out, so be it. That shall be part of my penance, and I call it cheap at the price!"
He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You gain nothing by torturing yourself, Loki," Sif said softly. "You help neither yourself nor those you slew." Hazel eyes met green. "Remorse is good. Remorse will help, and keep you on the right hand path. But torturing yourself is taking it too far. If you do, you will never have peace."
Loki smiled sadly. "Peace was never an option for me."
Sif's eyes hardened and she slapped him with a resounding crack.
Loki's eyes widened as he stumbled, and for a moment, burned with a wild rage. Then they dimmed and he chuckled grimly. "I think I deserved that."
"Yes. You did," Sif snapped, folding her arms. "For Yggdrassil's sake, Loki, as your nephew might say, get over yourself. Self-pity makes you less than you are."
"Duly noted," Loki said, rubbing his jaw.
Sif's gaze softened. "You are a good man, Loki. Your remorse shows that much."
Thor coughed pointedly. The lift had reached its final stop.
"Well," Loki said. "I think the Midgardian phrase is… 'show time.'"
OoOoO
Fudge looked up at the knock on his door and pasted a smile onto his face.
"Come in," he said politely.
The door opened, and the man, the god, who had once been James Potter stepped through the door, and everything seemed to brighten as he did. He was everything Fudge wasn't: tall, broad, handsome, personally powerful and effortlessly charming. This last was a mixture of hearsay about Thor, from Fudge's personal experience of watching James Potter command a room. Like Sirius Black, he had exuded a kind of effortlessly magnetic charisma that positively demanded attention.
Oh, and let us not forget, popular. Fudge wasn't an unpopular Minister, though having the Black escape happen during his administration was unfortunate, but he knew he was no match for the fame and popularity of the Mighty Thor, whose name echoed in myth and legend, his earlier deeds indelibly printed on the collective consciousness of wizardkind, and his current ones demanding attention as he was part of some band of misfit adventurers who had successfully enchanted the muggle world with their bravado. His name was on every child's lips, muggle or magical.
Fudge's was not, as he was painfully aware. He was also painfully aware that if Thor wanted to take the Ministry, he wouldn't even have to lift a finger. If he decided to lift a finger… well, Fudge knew that he was only a mediocre duellist, where James Potter had been well on the way to becoming an internationally renowned master. As Thor, he was famous for having taught Godric Gryffindor, one of the finest duellists in wizarding history.
And, most worryingly, Thor was not remotely intimidated, or indeed, respectful, of the office of Minister of Magic. His short, rude note, to Fudge's mind, neatly summed up his attitude towards the Ministry: aggressive, disrespectful and downright contemptuous.
It would have been bad enough if he had just been James, a respected war hero, husband of the famously martyred Lily Potter, a heroine in her own right, and father of the legendary Boy Who Lived. If that had been the case and he had behaved the same way, Fudge could have found ways of quietly leveraging pressure against him, making him see reason.
Unfortunately, Thor Odinson was quite literally untouchable. Fudge was fairly confident he could outmanoeuvre him. However, there was significant obstacle on that path, one that walked through the door with inhuman grace. As his green eyed gaze swept the room, Fudge knew that Loki, the younger and infinitely more dangerous Prince, would not tolerate any interference with his brother and nephew.
Fudge might have been many things, but he was not so big a fool as to cross swords with the God of Magic.
"Do sit down," he said, noting, to his displeasure that several other large people, one a strikingly beautiful woman, all Asgardians judging by their clothing, filed in. Each of them glanced around the room in a vaguely bored fashion, before letting their gaze settle on Fudge, who felt rather like he was a fly they were figuring out how best to squash if he buzzed too loudly.
Then they flicked their collective gaze to Fudge's sole companion. Albus Dumbledore. His steadfast ally and advisor. Once, he had feared that Dumbledore would seek to supplant him, but the other man, foolishly in his opinion, did not seek power. Instead, he seemed happy at his school, surrounded by his students, protégés and strange devices, eating his strange muggle sweets and, in Fudge's considered opinion, slowly going senile.
This, Fudge was thankful for. He'd seen a Dumbledore who took power in Arthur Langtry, the fearsome Merlin of the White Council, a wandless wizard of truly terrifying power and intellect, a cold, cunning and extremely dangerous man. He was as arrogant as any man Fudge had ever met, regarding him with obvious distaste, lacking any of Dumbledore's friendly twinkling demeanour and amiable eccentricity. Alike they might be in intelligence and power, even in appearance, but in personality you could not find two more different men. Fudge found this something of a relief. A slightly mad but harmless ally was better than a coldly brilliant enemy.
That said, in his more paranoid moments, Fudge found himself wondering if Dumbledore wasn't far more like Langtry than he pretended…
"So, Minister," Thor said, voice a deep, genial rumble. "You called this meeting."
"Ah, yes, I did," Fudge said. In fact, it had been Dumbledore's suggestion. "To discuss a few matters outstanding."
"Such as the case of my son's godfather," Thor said, eyes narrowing slightly, and Fudge had to remind himself that as James or Thor, the man sitting opposite him was not stupid.
"Yes," Fudge said, slightly feebly. "The position of the Ministry is, I am afraid, unchanged. Sirius Black must face trial."
"However," Dumbledore said. "The Ministry will also not pursue matters if Sirius remains away from British soil."
"Effective exile for an innocent man," Loki murmured.
"With respect, Prince Loki," Fudge said stiffly. "His innocence is a matter for a trial to determine."
"If only you had had that brilliant thought twelve years ago," Loki said mildly.
Fudge felt he was being mocked, something not helped by the muffled snickers from the other Asgardians.
"Sirius could have claimed custody," Loki continued. "And so much unpleasantness would have been avoided."
"Indeed it would," Dumbledore said quietly, sounding regretful.
"There were other potential claimants," Fudge said. "Harry's treatment by the muggle family is horrific, however, none of the other claimants chose to contest – "
"Because they could not, Cornelius," Thor said, a hint of impatience and anger in his voice. "Remus was impeded by his condition and the laws Dolores Umbridge sponsored, Sirius was unjustly imprisoned, Nicholas was locked out of the process for his non-magical ancestry and Wanda was the apprentice of Doctor Strange. She would only have put him in more danger. The only eligible candidate under your laws was unable to take custody because of circumstances beyond her control, and because of your laws, was forced to make an impossible decision."
"That," Fudge said pointedly, trying not to quail under Thor's suddenly piercing blue eyed stare. "Was under the administration of my predecessor."
"Yet you still haven't repealed those restrictive laws," Loki observed. "And one of your closest political allies has introduced more."
"Loki," Dumbledore said, tone warning.
Loki shrugged boredly.
"Come," Dumbledore said, smiling. "As much as we would like to, we cannot change the past. We must look to the present and the future."
"Quite," Thor said, dipping his head in slight acknowledgement to his old headmaster.
Though he might be going senile, Fudge thought, Dumbledore's ability to calm people down was undiminished, and in room of gods, all of whom could squash him like a bug if they so wished, it was invaluable. The man was just so damned confident, giving off an aura of calm, serenity, authority and power.
"Then," Thor said. "If we speak of the present, shall we speak of the Dementors? And their presence at Hogwarts?"
Fudge was not a clever man. But he was not a stupid one either, and long years of political manoeuvring told him that he was currently on thin ice. And it was creaking.
"Yes," Dumbledore said slowly. "Let us speak of the Dementors."
"To be frank, Cornelius," Thor said. "I cannot understand why you set them to guard in the first place. Do you have so little faith in the Aurors?"
"Black escaped from Azkaban," Fudge said. "He was believed to Voldemort's right hand man and therefore, capable of anything."
This time, there were undisguised snorts of contempt from two of the Asgardians at the back, the blonde dandy and the man who resembled Rubeus Hagrid with red hair. Even the woman sneered. Only the vaguely Asian looking one remained stoic, but Fudge felt that there was a hint of disgust in his eyes.
"Voldemort's right hand man?" Loki asked, eyebrow raised. "Tell me, Minister, have you ever met Sirius Black? He wears his heart on his sleeve. He could no more hide his true allegiance than he could stop breathing. And he was fiercely devoted to my brother and his family."
"In fairness, Loki," Dumbledore interceded. "It is because of that closeness that he was believed to be the secret keeper. He was the obvious choice."
"Did you think me so foolish, Albus?" Thor asked, frowning.
Dumbledore sighed. "No, James. I simply thought that it would be second nature to you. It would not occur to you to think otherwise. You trusted Sirius implicitly. So did Lily, when pranks were not involved and matters became serious," he said. "And on top of that, Sirius would die for you, a logical quality to look for in a secret keeper."
Thor nodded slowly and bitterly. "Instead, we chose Peter," he said, voice low and angry, large hands forming into fists that could crush planets, knuckles cracking like walnuts being stepped on by a troll. A sense of vast, oppressive power began to build in the office, noticeable even to Fudge's senses, and sparks began to dance about the metallic parts of the office. Fudge gulped and tried to unobtrusively shift his chair away from the angry god.
Loki's eyes, previously lazily half closed as he lounged in his chair, flew open, and he snapped, "Brother! Control yourself!"
Thor blinked, then relaxed, the since of power falling away. Fudge breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, brother," he said. "And sorry, Cornelius, for frightening you. My anger got the better of me."
"Me? Frightened?" Fudge said, to his dismay, in a high squeak. More background snickering greeted this. "No, Thor, not at all."
Thor raised an eyebrow at him, but shook his head, as if dismissing matters. "Anyway," he said. "Now that Sirius has been established as not being a threat, the necessity for the Dementors has passed," Thor said briskly. "Hasn't it, Cornelius?"
There was a hint of threat in his voice, one that after the slight outburst, Fudge wasn't minded to ignore.
"Indeed," Dumbledore added. "I should mention, Cornelius, that Harry had a particularly bad reaction to the Dementors."
"Oh? Why was that?"
Dumbledore gave him a patient smile. "Because he witnessed his mother's death, Cornelius."
"He was only a year old," Fudge said, feeling puzzled. "Surely he can't remember it."
"Small children can remember exceptionally traumatic events," Loki said. "And I think there are few more traumatic than seeing your mother murdered right in front of your eyes." His gaze pinned Fudge to the chair, and the Minister felt that his office had suddenly got a lot darker. And colder. "Every time he is near a Dementor, he remembers her death. And it is the only memory he has of her. I have a reputation for creative ruthlessness, Minister, some of it justified. I have come across tortures that are so terrible that they don't even have names. And yet… I think you have unwittingly stumbled upon one of the worst of them all. Tailor made for my nephew."
Fudge gulped. "Well," he began.
"It has caused my son such distress," Thor said. "That he has been forced to master the Patronus charm. While it has come in useful in other matters, he should not have had to."
Fudge met the two implacable gazes, one blue, one green. He looked up, to see the four Asgardians glaring at him, the woman idly resting her fingers on the hilt of a knife. Fudge got the feeling that if she wanted it to be, it would be in his throat in less than a heartbeat. Finally, he turned to Dumbledore. Who was giving him a cool inscrutable look that told him that no help was coming from there.
Damned man. Putting his students ahead of everything else, even the dignity of the office of Minister. How was this climb down going to look? Weak!
Then again, he thought. How was he going to persuade a room filled with six gods who'd walked straight out of legend a matter of years ago, and a wizard whose might had not been equalled for the best part of a century, Sorcerer Supreme notwithstanding, all of whom were united on this, to change their minds?
He couldn't.
So he caved.
"Very well," he said. "I'll have the Dementors return to their posts –"
"As soon as physically possible, we know," Loki said, cutting across him. "Well," he said, rising. "I think that concludes our business here. Do not let us detain you, Minister."
"Indeed it does," Thor agreed. "Good day, Cornelius, Albus."
He led the way out the door, and it was only after it shut that Fudge realised that he had been dismissed with the abruptness he'd accord to a junior aide.
"Well," Dumbledore said, smiling. "I think I had better return to Hogwarts. The school will not prepare itself for the student's return, you know."
He swept out as well.
Fudge stared after him, and got the distinct feeling that he was being side-lined.
So, that brings to the end to another chapter. The next, or the one after, will heavily feature Harry, Carol and Jean-Paul. And Lex. Because someone mistook him for a responsible adult.
By spark, Thor was, of course, not referring to romantic affection (just to clarify), but a more familial kind. Harry and Jane will, eventually, be very close.
The two policemen are a shout out to the Discworld, specifically to Corporal Nobbs and Sergeant Colon. As for the diplomatic service being the oddest government department, I grew up the child of diplomats, and let me tell you, the FCO has a tendency to attract the eccentric but brilliant members of the civil service. If you don't believe me, try reading Lawrence Durrell's (brother of Gerald Durrell) stories about diplomatic life. They are only thinly fictionalised. I mean, for heaven's sake, we're talking about a department with a 150 year old 22 foot long stuffed anaconda called Albert hanging in the library.
Arthur Langtry is from the Dresden Files and is, essentially, Dumbledore if he took political power, like a well-intentioned and White Hat wearing Saruman. You don't really need to know anything about him other than he's powerful, scary, extremely clever and a brilliant politician. He's also completely heartless and ruthless if he is required to be, and will likely only be referenced.