Chapter Eighty-Three: Time Started It

Of course, his little misadventure of Moody's class was the talk of the school by the end of the day, but it took Malfoy a bit more time than just that to figure out how to insult him about it. In the meantime, he pretended not to hear the whispers and occasional jeers. A few people asked him whether or not he was crazy, which was something he ought to figure out the answer to. The answer, according to most standard legal definitions, which were the only relevant ones, was probably "yes".

He ignored them, to check in on Ginny. He hadn't forgot what Ron had said last week. Fancy bringing Ginny into things out of nowhere, when she wasn't even around to defend herself! If he were going to talk to her, he'd best do it now, before the rumours spread throughout Gryffindor House. This must be the gossips' house.

"Hello, Ginny," he said, sitting down beside her. He affected not to notice the way she flinched at the sudden noise. "What are you working on?"

He peered down at the symbols covering the page. It was a simple translation exercise. "Do you want any help?"

He smiled at her, and she shook her head so that her hair whipped her face. "Harry? Why are you talking to me?"

He pouted. "Well, I do seem to recall you saying something earlier about me ignoring you all last year. I thought I'd show my commitment to changing that by dropping in, right now. Do you want my help, or not?"

She glared at him. "You didn't take Ancient Runes, Harry. I doubt you'd be much help."

He gave a wave of his hands. "You'd be surprised what I know, Ginny. I've been doing independent study. But, fine. This isn't the sort of thing you should ask for help on, anyway. That's very smart of you. You might try saying the names of them aloud as you write them. And don't keep looking at the textbook. You're trying to commit these to memory, not copy them."

Her glare intensified. He pretended not to see it.

"So, you're taking Ancient Runes, and what else?" he asked, watching as her shoulders slumped and she resumed inking in symbols.

"Care of Magical Creatures," she snapped. He beamed at her, but she didn't notice, too busy studying. "I thought I'd take one thought-intensive course, and one hands-on one, to balance things out. Besides, a class like Care of Magical Creatures is always useful. Just about any job would touch on the subject. I didn't choose my courses just for an easy workload, as you and Ron did."

Harry scowled, and folded his arms. "I think you'll find that Ron and I didn't choose our courses for the light courseload, either. Care of Magical Creatures is the only course on offer practical enough to have a light courseload. Is it so difficult to believe that Ron and I chose Divination on account of a genuine curiosity about the subject? Hermione and McGonagall dismiss it, true, but they're both rather inflexible in their beliefs, and they both seem less able to handle illogical, chaotic concepts. Divination is one of those. The course is an endless array of different ways of looking at the world, systems of belief and thoughts that have shaped cultures throughout millennia. In its own way, it has the potential to be like Ancient Runes."

Ginny looked up from her homework, staring at him, open-mouthed. She shut her mouth and looked down at her paper again by the time his mini-speech ended.

"I see," she said, in a rather small voice. "I didn't mean—"

"It's fine," Harry said, leaning back in his seat. He hadn't realised that he'd leant forwards, or unfolded his arms, for the confrontation. He wondered if he'd frightened her. He hoped not. "I should just let you study. I've homework of my own to work on. I just thought I'd check in on you."

"You…you could work here, too," she said, face turning very red as she shifted her papers aside to make room for him. He stared.

"Well, I suppose, if you don't mind…."


The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were set to arrive the first week of October. The professors seemed to realise that their arrival would result in widespread distraction, and were trying to cram as much of the syllabus as they could into the first month. Everyone seemed a bit dazed and unsure of how to react to the onslaught, except for the fifth and seventh years, who had fully expected to be inundated regardless, and whose workloads were exactly as heavy as they had been for fifth years and seventh years for generations.

It was a very good thing that Harry and Thor only had two electives, and that they had free blocks in which to recover. It was triply so, as it turned out, for reasons that neither had known to expect when choosing their third-year courses at the end of second.

Thor was heading in the vague direction of the library, following Harry, when he heard a voice from a classroom that he would later learn was supposed to be shut and locked for the day. Hogwarts was full of abandoned classrooms, and ones that were usually empty, but had one or two classes held there. The original Hogwarts must have offered a great deal more courses, and had a great deal more professors. Now, they served as ideal locations for ambushes, trysts, practice, and tutoring.

This probably fell into the first category, although it might have also been fit into some fifth category for things that didn't belong to standard usage.

"Psst! Thor!" said a quiet voice from behind the open door. "In here!"

This was immediately suspicious. Harry would not have gone: he would have assumed that it was a trap, and if he reacted at all, it would have been to countertrap whoever had dared to attempt such a thing. But Harry was paranoid. For his part, Thor knew that everyone at this school—scratch that, everyone in the universe—bar Harry and the Sorting Hat, knew him only as Ronald Weasley, sixth child, youngest son of Molly and Arthur Weasley. That anyone should be calling his real name, particularly in the halls of Hogwarts, when he knew where Harry was, and he was not there, warranted investigation.

He glanced at Harry, and then glanced at the open door. Loki would have chastised him for impulsivity, but….

He approached the open door, peering inside. It seemed unoccupied, at first glance. It seemed unoccupied, until he entered the room, and someone behind the door shut it, behind him.

"Where is your brother?" asked the man, as Thor stared at him, with a puzzled frown. He looked slightly familiar, as if they'd met once before, but he wore clothes that were strange by any Midgardian standards—muggle or wizard. Those were not wizarding robes. "Robes" was probably the wrong word for them. But they clearly tied shut in the front, so that was the best you could do. They were dark, and that helped him not to stand out as much, which was probably the only reason he'd managed to make it this far into Hogwarts.

He had dark hair turning grey, which struck Thor as…off. When he'd seen this man before, he'd seemed much younger. That seemed to rule out them having met in the future.

Then, the question caught up to him. That question, added to the way he had himself been addressed, could mean only one person.

"He went ahead," Thor said, giving the simplest answer, until he could place this man. "Remind me of who you are."

The man shook his head, with a smile. "Right, right. It's been over twenty years. Can't expect you to recognise me. It's Stephen. I was the doctor who treated him at the end of…first year, did he say it was? So, you know I'm not here to hurt him. Haven't you heard of the Hippocratic Oath?"

That term did sound somewhat familiar. Harry was paranoid enough for both of them. He'd at least bring Harry here to speak with the doctor. Doctor… Strange had saved his life, before, and two against one were always good odds.

"I will bring him," he promised, heading to the door, and turning back to look at Stephen.

"I'm not going to wander about your crazy magic school," said Stephen. "I'll wait right here."

Harry was, in whatever way he managed to do that, right outside the door, about to open it.

"You fell behind," he said, cocking his head.

"There is someone who wishes to speak with us. He is the doctor who saved your life at the end of first year."

"The one I tried to kill," Harry mused. "I remember."

Thor frowned, but the statement was irrefutable. Knowing Harry, he was probably already headed towards some rather paranoid thoughts. But Thor, unsure of what he could do to make anything better, merely stepped aside, and let Harry pass into the abandoned classroom. He wasn't expecting the doctor to smile at the two of them.

Very few people were genuinely glad to see Harry; for most of them, he was a tool, at best. More often, he was something to be guarded—guarded against, perhaps, or protected, but a means to an end. He didn't know what to make of the idea that someone whom he'd tried to kill seemed genuinely pleased to see him, except that it was a ruse. He was instantly wary.

"You don't need to look that way," the doctor said, his smile fading. "I'm here to help. I'd have come earlier, but you—" he pointed at Harry, "told me that I should have come at the beginning of fourth year, instead of the middle of third. Is this about the right timeframe?"

Harry was too overcome by the absurdity of that statement to respond, so Thor said, "This is the second week of fourth year."

Harry frowned. Before he could gather his wits, Stephen continued,

"Good. You said this was a very exciting year—"

"'Said'?" Harry snapped. "Said when? We've never even met, yet you tell me that I sent you?"

Stephen turned very serious at this. "Yes. You sent me here, Loki. Twenty-odd years in the future. I'm here to help you. Not just with Voldemort. With Thanos, too."

The Rules of Invocation suggested that things were about to turn very ugly. Particularly when Harry tended to flinch at the mere mention of Thanos. That would ratchet up his suspicion.

"'Twenty years hence'?" he repeated, his voice very soft, and brimming with malice. "Do you claim to have traveled back in time to speak with us?"

Even as he spoke, he gathered energy for an attack. Thor readied himself to intervene.

"I'm here to help," Stephen repeated, in his most serious voice. "And yes, I traveled back in time to do this. Man, when you told me you were super-paranoid at this point in time, I thought you were exaggerating."

As he spoke, he waved his hands in a complex series of gestures. A yellow-orange net of energy formed, glowing, around his hands. It took the brunt of a direct hit from Loki's spell, and the doctor staggered back.

"Good thing you helped me figure out how to block the spells you were liable to use. I thought all that practice was overkill. But you were absolutely right. It was necessary."

Loki paused, probably trying to figure out how to change his angle of attack. Thor breathed easier knowing that Stephen had some means of defending himself.

"How do you know of Thanos?" Loki asked. Stephen sighed.

"Because you told me. You and Thor—and Hermione, and Ginny."

He shot a significant glance at Ron when he said Hermione's name. Ron missed it, but some of the tension drained from his brother. Some of the suspicion. Thor said that this was the doctor who had saved his life…and he did seem to know how to counteract a basic offensive spell fortified with the other kind of magic….

Wait a minute. Had he said something about Ginny?

"These are dangerous times," he said, which was as close as he would come to apologising. Nothing the doctor had said rang false. He should give him a chance.

The doctor's eyebrows rose.

"You claim to know me. But I know nothing of you," he said. "As a gesture of faith, what are you, and…what manner of magic do you practice?"

Stephen blinked, and glanced at Thor, shaking his head. "I don't believe it. Those are the exact same words."

Thor shifted on his feet, and began fiddling with the unicorn-hair wand.

"My name is Doctor Stephen Strange," he said, enunciating each word with great force. "That tends to lead to much confusion. I'm a sorcerer."

Loki blinked, and tilted his head. "…A sorcerer. I don't believe I've heard of them."

"We guard Earth against interdimensional threats," he said, leveling a significant look at Loki.

Twenty years hence. Ah.

"I saw the footage of the Chitauri Invasion on TV, before I got involved in this whole mess. It was before I knew I was a sorcerer. It's 2017, now. I missed out on the hubbub about signing the Sokovia Accords, so I don't know how I would have reacted before, but, speaking as someone who is now technically doing something illegal to save the world, I think they're a stupid idea."

Loki glanced at Thor, saw that he didn't understand either, turned back to Stephen.

"The Sokovia Accords were an agreement signed by some of the Avengers that they wouldn't act without U.N. approval after they, you know, dropped a country."

"Ah," said Thor, as if that meant something to him, at least. "Then, it is because of Tony's army of killer robots—"

"What?" asked Loki. That last statement shouldn't even have any semantic value in the real world. "An army of killer robots? When were you going to mention that?"

He hoped he sounded as dazed as he felt.

Thor looked sheepish.

"You dropped a country?" Loki continued. All he'd done was destroy New York…and perhaps a few other places, it wasn't quite clear. And try to take over the world.

This conversation needed to get back on track before break ended, but….

"If you are yet another time traveler," he said, resigned to the idea of a third form of time travel being introduced, "how many times have we met?"

Stephen shook his head. "I should have known that you'd ask that. You always ask that. Just how do you expect to keep track? But it's the second time for you and Thor, and the fourth time for me, if you count the incident in the hospital, and the third, if you don't."

That wasn't too bad. He relaxed slightly.

"The fourth time, then. But if you come from the future, then you know that we survived the war."

Stephen frowned, and paused. Loki noticed his hesitation. "What? Am I wrong?"

"Well…yes. This isn't like wizarding time travel, where everything that happened always happened. It's possible that I shouldn't be able to do this at all, but I researched time travel extensively in the library of Kamar-Taj, and I think I've got it more or less figured out. I'm here not just to help you, but to get in as much practice with time travel as I can. Practice is important. You've made it quite clear that we're screwed probably even if we master as many skills as we can. I'm going to practice as much as I can, before it's too late."

Dread stole through the room, painting the walls with frost.

"All we know is that, in the timeline I came from, you survived the war. You, and Ron, and Hermione, and Ginny, at the very least. But that's already changed: I never appeared during your third year. I've already changed the timeline. But I'll be able to keep coming back in time to help you, and keep changing the timeline, unless you die, or Hermione dies, or it otherwise becomes impossible to restore my memories, eight years from now. It's in my best interest to keep you alive, too. I don't want to break time any more than I already have."

Right. So, maybe now they hadn't survived the war. He couldn't know—

"But, on the plus side, I can bring information, and maybe even items, from the future to help you. Just as long as you make sure to ensure those objects' existence in the future. I can be useful. And I'll check in on you…try to make it the same time every week…."

"And you know Thor and me in the future. And Hermione," he said, with a knowing smile and a glance in Ron's direction, that leveled out, as he said, "and Ginny. What of Sirius? And Remus?"

He'd been planning on dragging those two into the war against Thanos. He didn't like that they hadn't been mentioned.

Stephen hmmed. "I think you mentioned them, once or twice. Sirius…let's see…he died at the end of your fifth year. And Remus died at the end of your seventh."

He froze, as the familiar pain of loss—grief, turned his body to lead. He stared up at Stephen through his bangs. His head was too heavy to lift. Perhaps there was a bit more of Harry Potter to him than he would otherwise have assumed.

"…'Dead'," he whispered, as if pronouncing a death sentence. "After only two years…no. I refuse to accept this."

"We can change it," Stephen said, his tone almost eager. "That's what I'm here for. As long as you remember what happened, you can warn me about it. Sure, I'll need you to be a bit forthcoming with what actually happened, but we can save them. There might be some people we can't save, but as long as I keep coming back and forth between times, we can make the best future possible."

"Do you understand your own offer?" Loki asked, voice rather raw, even though he kept it quiet. "Omniscience—knowledge of the future. There are those who have argued it is indistinguishable from omnipotence. Would you trust me with such power?"

Stephen looked him dead in the eyes. "Do you know what I think? I think you're a good person, more or less, who just lost his way."

Loki cracked a humourless grin. "'More or less'. I suppose I deserve that."

Thor's hand landed on his shoulder. He'd done little to interfere, hadn't even defended Stephen, as if he somehow recognised the importance of having Loki build this bridge on his own. And he supposed he had built it. There was something new here—a new alliance. But Stephen…he could not have made it clearer that, like Thor, when he looked at Loki, he did not see a monster. And he was the only other in this time who knew of the Invasion…who'd seen what he'd done. How could he have such…faith?

"And we don't have to talk about the dire threats looming in the future all the time," Stephen continued. "Everyone agrees that I'm something of a magic prodigy. And you are, too. I'm sure we could learn a lot from one another's magic. For instance, I was only able to find you two by opening my seventh sense. But you only gave me the crash course in that."

Loki stared at him. Talk with someone. About magic, the other kind of magic. Someone who was not Mother. There was probably some reasonable response he should have to that, but he didn't know what it was.

"Yes," he said at last. "We could."

Call it a peace offering. "I should not have attacked you. I apologise."

Thor stared at him, as if he'd grown extra appendages. What he was saying wasn't that out of character, was it?

"This is the oddest thing that's happened yet this year," Loki muttered, relaxing slightly with the knowledge that he was not under immediate threat.

"Not odd," Thor said. "Strange."

Loki turned to stare at him. "…Was that a joke, Thor? Since when do you have sense of humour?"

Thor pouted. "I've always had a sense of humour, Brother," he protested. "You just never noticed."