Thor approached the Leaky Cauldron with a touch of melancholy tempering his excitement to see his son. He had spent Halloween day in Godric's Hollow. Despite his need to find his son, he had also needed to say good-bye to James. He wasn't sure if James had survived if he could have gone back to being a wife now that he had all his memories, but she had truly loved the man. He had wept at their gravesite until he had no more tears. From what he could tell from the monument and the graves, Harry had survived, but he didn't know where he was. Perhaps Hogwarts? One day mourning her husband would not make a difference to her son after so long. Regardless, he needed a wand and intel before he could head to Hogwarts, if that was where his son was. Her old wand was not in their ruined cottage.
Without a wand, he had to get the Old Tom to open the door to the Alley for him. Tom was just as friendly as he remembered.
A not-so-quick visit to Gringotts granted him access to his old vault. As Lily he had had a small vault that she had put her share of the Evans inheritance after her Midgardian parents had died. A blood test revealed that he was Lily through having Lily's magic. When the goblins asked how it was possible, he had refused to answer. The goblins grumbled, but they always did. He could have demanded access to the Potter vaults, but he didn't want to mess things up for Harry and he figured it would take more time to sort that out than he wanted to spend. The only reason he had gone to Gringotts at all was that he needed money for his new wand.
He smiled as he passed Flourish and Blotts. As Lily, that had been his favorite store in the Alley. A fact that would have astonished his brother. Unfortunately, he didn't think he would have time to indulge right now. Perhaps later, when he could go with Harry.
After he entered Ollivander's Wand Shop and approached the counter, he felt a presence come up behind him.
As he turned, he heard Mr. Ollivander say, "Good Morning, Mrs. Potter…" The elderly man paused and said, "You are not Lily Potter."
Thor said, "I heard that Lily Potter died thirteen years ago."
Ollivander shrugged. "I could swear I felt a resonance with an old wand of mine, 10 ¼ inch, willow, swishy, good for charms. I placed it with an eleven-year-old Lily Evans. As for her being here now… Why, magic is a wondrous thing, is it not?"
"Magic is a wondrous thing and I did once use a wand like that," Thor admitted.
"That must be it," Ollivander acquiesced.
"My old wand has been stolen," Thor explained, "and I need another as I have no idea of when or if I will get my old one back."
Ollivander frowned. "Disturbing."
Thor simply nodded.
Ollivander led him through a similar routine with an animated tape measure as when he had gotten his previous wand. This time the old man exhausted all his own wands before leading him into a back room.
"As you know," the elderly man said, "I have chosen to make all of my wands with unicorn hair, dragon heartstrings, or phoenix feathers. Between those three core materials I find that I can match nearly all of my customers quite well. However, sometimes that is not the case—occasionally, especially with older customers from other countries, they need another option. For this reason, I keep a small stock of wands made by partners from the New World, the Orient, and Africa. If we do not find a match in this stock, perhaps we can go back and find you a temporary wand that will work until you can find a proper match."
Following a hunch, Thor started with the New World wands. Before too long, he found a match.
"10 ¼ inch, ash, swishy, good for charms and defense spells," said Ollivander. "The core is a thunderbird feather and it was made by an American Indian shaman named Patrick Dancing Bear."
Thor was interested to find out that his new wand had some characteristics of her old one, but was made of wood sacred to his people, being of a similar tree to Yggdrasil, and a feather of a magical bird that exemplified his own power.
He bought a wrist hostler for his wand and thanked Ollivander. He left the shop and headed back to the Leaky Cauldron. He needed to rent a room for at least an hour or so. He thought he could change to Lily through his Animagus form, but he needed to practice.
XXXXXX
Loki scowled, sitting atop what Asgardians still called "Odin's throne." It had hardly been a day and Thor had already recovered Mjolnir and his godly power. What perplexed him was that his so-called brother had not demanded that Heimdall send him the Bifrost so that he could return to Asgard. Instead he had gone to England and spent a day in a sleepy little town there—much of it crying in a graveyard. The next morning he had gone to London and had already spent several hours in a small neighborhood that reeked of magic.
Loki sighed. He would have to go down to Midgard himself to investigate.
XXXXXX
Thor smiled. It hadn't taken him long to be able to change into Lily's Animagus form—a red fox vixen. From there it had taken him an hour of changing back and forth before he had been able to change into Lily again. Then it had only taken him another five minutes to be able to change directly between his normal form and Lily. His next step was to get to Hogsmeade and from there to Hogwarts. He didn't think that Dumbledore or whoever the Headmaster was now would begrudge him the chance to see his son after thirteen years.
He fondly reminisced on learning to do the Animagus transformation. She had been motivated to do so after discovering that slackers like James Potter and his friends had done so in Fifth Year. He was positive that she had learned to do so more quickly than James and Sirius—and certainly Peter. He scowled at the memory of the traitor.
He entered the main part of the pub so that he could tell Tom that he was done with the room and settle accounts.
A couple of witches were sitting at a booth talking loudly. One of them said, "Did you hear about Harry Potter?"
"Yes," said the other, "I read in the Daily Prophet that he cheated his way into becoming the fourth champion in the Tri-Wizard Tournament."
The first witch tutted. "Poor boy. They say he did it because they haven't been paying him enough attention."
"Do you think he can do it?"
The first witch shrugged. "I would think so. He is the Boy-Who-Lived."
What was this nonsense? The Boy-Who-Lived. What kind of accomplishment is Living? Why would they saddle his son with such a meaningless title. Why had Sirius allowed it? Why was the Tri-Wizard Tournament even being held? While he appreciated contests of strength, she didn't want her son competing in a tournament that killed spectators—especially not when he was this young.
He wondered where could he find out more. He grimaced. The goblins were the best choice. They would charge him exorbitant fees for the information, but at least it would be unbiased—they hated all wizards equally. They would also not bury him in bureaucracy or send him to Azkaban for daring to come back from the "dead."
XXXXXX
Harry sulked as he ate breakfast alone. Ron had managed to turn most of Gryffindor Tower against him in the course of just one night. Hermione, of course, believed him, but she had gone to the library early. He thought Neville might too, but the shy boy mostly kept to himself. The twins didn't care. They thought it was a great prank either way. It was as if after more than three years only Hermione knew him even a little bit. He still found their lack of trust in his words off-putting.
He sighed. He was in for a rough year, even without the tournament, judging by the glares he got from the other tables. He glanced at the Head Table. Judging by what had happened Second Year, there would be little if any overt help from there. He respected Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, but they really didn't understand students and how hurtful they could be. They were also both so incredibly busy he didn't want to bother them.
A sharp bang had the entire Great Hall looking toward the entrance way. A redheaded woman dressed in black leather armor with round, black metal plates attached to it stalked into the Hall. She wore a red cape and had a hammer swinging from a thong at her waist. He gasped as he recognized her face from the photo album that Hagrid had given her. "Mum?" he whispered.
The woman started scanning through the students at the Gryffindor Table. She stopped when she locked eyes with him and smiled. She gestured to him and he got up to go to her.
Her gaze swung to the Head Table and she snarled. Harry turned to look and saw that Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape were approaching. For some reason, Moody got up and left the Hall.
"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," she growled in a husky voice the whole Hall heard, "what kind of shoddy educational establishment are you running that my son has been in mortal peril every year he's been here? And what right did you have to tell my son he had to stay with that creature who once called herself my sister? I am moments away from declaring blood feud with you, Crouch, Bagnold, and Fudge for how much you've managed to bungle things in what can only be a malicious attempt to end House Potter."
You could hear a pin drop in the utter silence that enveloped the Great Hall.
"Lily?" gasped Snape.
The redhead turned her gaze toward the Potions Professor and snarled, "And you, Severus? Did you really think I wouldn't find out how you've treated my son?"
"I thought you were dead," the man gasped out, not being able to meet her eyes.
"And that matters, how?" she ground out. "Even if I were dead, I would still have met you in the Halls of the Dead to tell you what I think of you once your sorry excuse for a life was over."
"And how do we know that you are really Lily Potter?" McGonagall asked sternly. "And if you are, where have you been all these years?"
The woman who might be his mum sighed. "A well-meaning relative smuggled me out of the country when he thought Harry was dead along with James and hit me with an Obliviate in order to spare me the pain of my family's death."
"Lily was a muggleborn," Professor McGonagall said primly.
The woman he was coming to believe was his mum arched an eyebrow and said, "You think so-called muggleborn don't have wizard ancestors? You purebloods really don't know anything about genetics, do you?"
"And your Wizard ancestor was who?" McGonagall countered.
"I will not say," his mum said. "He values his privacy. I do have proof from Gringotts of my identity, however."
She handed a roll of parchment to McGonagall, who unrolled it and examined it. Professor Flitwick approached and examined it as well. Flitwick nodded and McGonagall said, "It is genuine, untampered with, and says that the one tested is Lily Jenifer Evans Potter." She paused and continued, "And it's dated yesterday."
Harry lunged forward and fell into the woman's outstretched arms. "My baby," she said. "My Harry. I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you."
Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Perhaps we can continue this in my office."
"Yes," his mum almost purred. "I have many things I want to say to you, but first… I want a Writ of Habeas Corpus sworn out for Sirius Black. The fact that he could have a 'Kiss on Sight' order against him without ever having seen a trial is a travesty of the highest order. I also want charges laid against Peter Pettigrew for his part in my husband's murder. The fact that you as Chief Warlock did not do this upon hearing the truth of the matter is a blight upon your honor."
"Yes, well the Minister would hear nothing of it," Dumbledore began.
"Are you or are you not Albus Dumbledore?" his mum demanded. "The day that you cannot push something through the Wizengamot is the day that you should retire."
"You really think it's that simple, Lily?" Dumbledore asked archly. "Do you really know so little about politics?"
His mum's face visibly calmed. "Hmm. Perhaps you are right. With the amount of corruption in Wizarding Britain, it may be so. Very well, let's go to your office."
