Timeline:
[x] (2012) The Avengers
[x] (2013) Iron Man 3
[x] (2013) Thor: The Dark World
[ ] (2014) Captain America: The Winter Soldier; Guardians of the Galaxy; Guardians of the Galaxy: Vol. 2
[ ] (2015) Avengers: Age of Ultron; Ant-Man
[ ] (2016) Captain America: Civil War; Spider-Man: Homecoming
[ ] (2017) Doctor Strange; Black Panther; Thor: Ragnarok
[ ] (2018) Avengers: Infinity War
Tony takes a few threatening steps forward, but Hari reaches out her arm to stop him. "No?" she asks softly. "No to which question?"
Loki reclines in his chair. "No, I was not working with Thanos," he spits out. He's looking at her, but the answer is for Odin, who is off to the side beside his wife. "To word it as such denotes a choice, and I can assure you," he says, leaning forward, "there was none."
There's a moment of silence, and then Odin says, "Why did you not say so earlier?"
Loki snarls. "Would you have believed me? I am the God of Mischief and Lies, after all. I have a silver tongue, do I not? How can you trust I'm being honest right now?"
Hari nods her head slowly. "I was going to use Veritaserum on you," she admits. "But we don't know how it works on gods."
"Lady Hari, I am still willing to test it," Thor offers, taking a cautious step forward.
"And if it doesn't work?" Loki questions. "If I refuse?"
"You said a deal is a deal!" Tony nearly snarls at Loki.
Hari can feel his muscles twitching underneath her hand, as if he's itching for an excuse to put on the suit and tear Loki a new one. As annoying as the God of Mischief is, it won't come to that. Not if Hari has any say.
"I answered her question," Loki points out slyly. "I have fulfilled my part of the bargain."
"Are you willing to bet your magic on that?" Hari smiles at him, nothing more than the slightest twitch of her lips.
If not for the Elder wand in her possession, she could not use magic to bind him to his word. But she does have that wand and, although verbally, they did agree to certain terms. This is why the Wizarding world prefers to have contracts written out and signed in blood; words can be twisted for someone's benefit at someone else's expense, and nobody wants to accidentally break a magical vow that could claim their lives or, worse, their magic.
Loki gives her a condescending smile. "Humans may have magic, but they apparently don't know much about it," he comments snidely. "Our deal was for you to show me how you became Death-Touched in exchange for me answering your question, which I've done. Magic would be satisfied."
Hari lets her smirk widen, lets him see how sharp her teeth are. "Oh, I think not," she says, taking a step towards his gilded cage. "In your own words, we would have a fair trade of information."
"I told you what you want to know; that seems to be more than fair." Loki cocks an eyebrow at her, but she sees the wariness in his eyes, the way his shoulders tense up in preparation.
"Is it?" She lays a hand on the golden magic keeping him locked away. Staring into his eyes, so similar a green to her own, she lets her magic fill the air, saturate it. He licks his lips as if he can taste it, and maybe he can. Maybe he can sense the promise of what's to come. "I suppose it depends on your definition of fairness."
"Information for information—"
"And I think," she cuts him off, "that putting my life on display wasn't a part of our deal. That's not very fair, is it?"
Loki loses the smile. He stares at her as if seeing her for the first time, as if realizing that maybe, just maybe, he's the prey. Good. "I upheld—"
Hari slams her hand against the golden magic. Sparks fly, and then there's a spiderweb of cracks, splintering from her palm outwards. Loki makes an aborted step backwards, shocked. It's not just anyone who can damage the magic keeping him prisoner, but Hari chooses not to dwell on that. There will be time for that later.
Right now, he's going to know what it's like to have his life on display. He's going to relive every single fucking memory as she sifts through them, as she plucks out the information that she needs.
It's only fair, right?
Tendrils of her own magic, a more acidic green than Avada Kedavra, slither around in anticipation.
"I could test the Veritaserum on Thor still," she muses aloud. Her grin takes on a darker edge, sharp and deadly. "But, well, I don't think there's a need for it. You won't attempt to obscure the truth. Not if you want to keep your magic. Now, kneel."
It happens so fast that she can't even keep up; magic wraps around his wrists like chains and brings him to his knees. It snakes up his arms until it hovers around his head, drifting in lazy circles.
"What's happening?" Thor demands, panic in his voice.
Hari ignores him. "You don't have to show me anything," she tells Loki. "But you'll lose your magic if you don't. The choice is yours."
"Is that even a choice?" Loki spits, glaring viciously.
She shrugs carelessly. "It's the equivalent of what you offered me. Gotta be fair, remember?"
Because allowing Loki to harmlessly collect the information that he wants from her compared to brutally ripping apart Tony's mind? That wasn't a choice.
Between her and Tony? It's never a choice.
There's a part of her that is so darkly satisfied at the way the tables turned. Reliving her memories was unpleasant, to say the least. It was humiliating, knowing that these other people could see some very intimate moments of her life. If it had only been Tony, she would've been okay with it; perhaps annoyed because she wanted to tell him herself, but she would not be so consumed with fury and bitterness.
It doesn't help, of course, that reliving those memories re-opened wounds she had worked so fucking hard at healing. They feel as fresh as the days she'd gotten them. The losses she'd suffered in the war, the memories shoving Dumbledore's betrayal in her face, the Avada Kedavra hitting her square in the chest, it's all so fucking fresh, threatening to choke her.
Hari squeezes her hand tightly, if only to stop it from trembling.
A heartbeat of silence, and then Loki lets out a bitter laugh. He dips his head in a mocking gesture. "I suppose fair is fair," he purrs darkly.
"Don't worry," she tells him mockingly. "I won't hurt you; much."
The magic seeps into his head, and then it bursts outwards.
Only Hari and Tony absorb the magic. It's infinitely kinder to expose Loki's memories only to them, but frankly, despite how infuriated she is, she doesn't want to contribute more to their family drama. She's tired, irritable, and her magic is so unsettled by the violation of reliving so many memories that she wouldn't have enough control to include them in Loki's memories anyway.
They're outside in one of Asgard's courtyards. Bright, golden rays of sun beam down on the Asgardians walking by. Hari keeps Tony close to her, shielding him as much as she can from the magic saturating the air. Loki may not have taken into consideration that he's a Muggle, but she'll be damned if he experiences any negative effects because of her. He clings to her, eyeing everything with open distrust, and he nearly yells when the spectral images of children run through him.
It's easy to tell who is who. Thor is exuberant, loud, and undisciplined. His golden mane is tied back, and his clothes are neat and pristine, precious metals sewed into the trim, every bit the Crown Prince, the favorite child doted upon by his loving parents. He's surrounded by other children who eagerly follow his every command.
"What shall we do next, Prince Thor?"
Thor looks around, and his lips curl in a mischievous smile when he something catches his eye. He points. "A test of strength! We can borrow Sir Randall's sword and spar with it on the training grounds!"
An uneasy air settles between them, not that Thor notices. He's staring at the guard a mere twenty yards away, greed written on his tiny face. Hari's stomach churns, taken aback at just how much he looks like Dudley at this moment.
"Don't be stupid, Thor. Mother will be furious with you for stealing."
Loki is shorter and thinner than Thor, but he stands tall as he faces his brother. His sleek black hair is braided back, little beads of obsidian decorating the strands. He holds himself as proudly as Thor, but there's something softer about him. Loki is merely a boy here, a child, and he hasn't faced anything that would harden him to the world. Not yet.
Thor scowls furiously at him. "I am the Crown Prince!" he insists angrily. "I can do whatever I please."
"Crown Prince you may be, but even you aren't allowed to use a real sword yet," Loki points out. "You could accidentally hurt someone."
Thor's cheeks turn red, and Hari has to prevent herself from wincing. He's reminding her more and more of her cousin in his youth, and she knows what's going to happen even before it does. Loki has no clue; his face goes slack with surprise and hurt as Thor tackles him to the ground, and he lifts his arms to cover his face as Thor unleashes his terrible temper onto him.
It's over quickly, but the damage is done. Thor and his entourage leave, laughing and making plans to do something else, and Loki slowly picks himself off the ground. His pale cheeks are blooming with bruises, and he hastily dries his eyes.
Nobody helps him.
Tony squeezes Hari's hand when the scene changes, and she knows he won't be able to stand being saturated in so much magic for much longer. He's holding out better than she had expected, but that's no reason to prolong his suffering.
Loki is sitting at his mother's lap. She shows him the correct way to channel his magic, to let it fill his body without consuming him. He takes to it like a duck to water, and there's an unabashed look of glee and wonder that overtakes his face.
It's wiped off his face when Odin enters the room, barking, "Frigga! What are you teaching the boy?"
The King stands tall and proud, but his face is clouded with dark emotion. Hari sees the way Loki shrinks in on himself, tries to make himself small in the wake of Odin's fury, but Frigga strokes a hand lovingly through his hair. "He has a gift," she says pointedly, her tone very no-nonsense.
"Loki will train in the art of the sword. Not this… this witchcraft! It's unbecoming of a Prince."
And without so much as a by-your-leave, Odin grabs Loki firmly by the hand and drags him away. Frigga looks upset, but she doesn't do much to stop her irate husband.
Hari watches, stone-faced, as Loki is forced to train with different kinds of blades. He's unpracticed, but his trainer doesn't care. Every time Loki is knocked down, he's met with more blows to keep him down. He rises again and again, and he's beaten down again and again.
It happens over and over until, one day, Loki uses magic in a duel. It's nothing much; a little illusion to trick his sparring partner, but it lets him win. Dishonorable, the other warriors hiss at him.
Word gets back to Odin and he's punished for it, punished for using an art typically mastered by women, punished for being so good at it.
But Loki just bares it with a razor-sharp, wicked smirk, all teeth, and he continues to use magic to put the other warriors in their place. One by one, they all fall at his feet as he outsmarts them.
Eventually, Thor bitterly concedes that Loki is a half-decent warrior with magic.
Eventually, Frigga convinces Odin to let her train Loki's natural talent.
Eventually, Odin allows it.
Even this next change in scenery leaves Hari feeling nauseated. Tony whispers, "How much more?" His voice is strained, almost breathless.
"Soon," Hari promises. She turns to look at him, takes in his slightly sweaty face. "I can send you out now, if you need."
"I'm with you," he promises. "I can handle it."
She nods and turns her attention back to Loki. He stands in front of a large, ornate mirror. There's a flicker of hesitation that flutters across his face, but then he squares his shoulders and waves his hand. The wash of emerald magic is familiar, and when it finally dissipates, it looks like nothing's different.
At first.
The changes are minute; Loki's shoulder-length black hair is still brushed back neatly, but there are a few wisps that frame his more delicate face. His jawline softens, his waist tapers in, and there is the swell of breasts underneath his tunic.
Underneath her tunic.
Loki admires this new form, a little pleased smile tugging at the corners of her lips, but that all goes away when Thor barges in.
"Brother, I—" Thor stops dead in his tracks, taking in Loki's new form with an air of befuddlement. "Are you planning a prank on someone?"
Loki changes back, and he swallows hard enough that Hari can hear it. "Yes," he says faintly. "Just a prank."
Thor narrows his eyes. "Are you lying to me?"
Loki shakes his head, tries to fix an arrogant expression on his face. It looks more like a grimace. "Of course not."
"What prank would require you to be a woman?" Thor demands. There's nothing malicious in his tone, but it still sends a shiver of foreboding down Hari's arms.
"That's none of your concern. Now, what were you barging in here for?"
"Do you like being a woman?" Thor is relentless, and he cocks his head to the side with open curiosity.
"For the love of—will you just let it go?" Loki hisses. "Just mind your own business!"
"There's nothing wrong if you do," Thor continues, unperturbed by the tone in his brother's voice. "Do you plan to be a woman permanently?"
Loki freezes. For a long moment, the two brothers stare at each other. Thor displays a surprising amount of patience and understanding, and Loki eyes him as if the golden-haired prince is going to mock him any moment now. Given the little interaction she's seen from them, Hari doesn't blame him.
"You don't think there's anything wrong with me?" Loki's voice is skeptical, and he narrows his eyes at Thor.
Thor shrugs. "I think Sif has adequately proven how fierce a warrior a woman can be," he points out. "But why would I care? You're still my broth—sister? Sibling?" His brows furrow in confusion, and he glances down at Loki's pants as if it holds the answers to his dilemma.
Loki slowly thaws, his face softening just a bit. Just enough that Hari knows it won't take much to break him. "I don't… I'm not… Sometimes I feel like a man, and other times I feel like a woman. I just want to… switch to what's most comfortable."
Satisfied with this explanation, Thor says, "Okay." He moves to sit on Loki's bed. "You can change now, if you want."
Loki does. The differences still aren't terribly noticeable, but she looks happier, more settled. She sits next to Thor and they talk, and Hari's heart clenches when she sees the ease between them. Thor's easy acceptance, Loki's fragile peace, it makes them look so young.
Hari flinches when the door slams open. Odin walks in, his stride regal, but he freezes when he sees Loki and Thor on the bed. His complexion pales, just a bit, and Hari knows he's looking at Loki and seeing Hela. She can see it in the way his breath hitches, the way his hand moves to his belt as if to grab a weapon.
That's not what Loki will see.
Loki won't see a ghost of Odin's ugly past coming back to haunt him.
Loki won't see similarities so terrifying that squashing them is the only salvation.
No, Loki won't see that at all. She'll see her father rejecting her, yet again, for differences beyond her own control.
She'll see yet another way she differs from Thor, their father's favorite.
She'll see how she has no way of earning the same amount of affection.
Loki pales significantly, rapidly changing back to her male form. "Father," he murmurs quietly.
Thor stands shakily next to Loki, unsure and confused. "What can we do for you, Father?"
For a long, tense moment, Odin says nothing. He stares at Loki until he remembers how to breathe, and the rage that saturates his words has even Tony flinching beside Hari. "It appears I have been too lax with you," the King spits. "You are a Prince of Asgard, and you will act like it. Do not ever let me catch you behaving so disgracefully again, Loki." He glares furiously. "Now, both of you come along. Your mother has news for us." Odin sweeps from the room, shaking his head.
Loki stands frozen in place, his eyes wide but unseeing, shivers racking his body. "I…"
Thor eyes him worriedly, glances again at the door. "It's okay. You're still my brother," he says reassuringly.
It's the wrong words.
Loki stiffens for a moment, then snaps out of it. His face becomes closed off and he strides towards the door, snapping, "Well, come along then!"
The memories come faster now. Thor's coronation interrupted, the battle on Jotunheim, Loki's discovery that he's a Jotun, Thor being banished to Earth. It all snowballs until Loki demands the truth of Odin, until he realizes just how unloved and unwanted he is.
A stolen relic.
Hari swallows bile, squeezing her eyes shut, tries to force out the agony at hearing Snape cry, "You raised her like a pig for slaughter."
Thor and Loki have battled plenty of times before, but it was never this serious. They obviously survive, but Hari squeezes Tony's hand with every blow landed, with every pained cry, with every tear that mixes with sweat upon their faces.
Hari cries when Odin rejects Loki.
Hari cries when Loki let's himself fall.
Hari cries when Thor screams and reaches out for his brother.
How many men have destroyed people with their words and actions? How many Dumbledores and Odins have wreaked havoc upon the children entrusted to them? How many have had to suffer so?
As Loki falls into the abyss that is space, so do they.
She lets Tony dig his nails into the flesh of her arm as the darkness threatens to swallow them. There must be millions and millions of stars peppering the deep expanse of space, glittering and glistening. Loki falls and falls and falls, until eventually his body gets caught in the gravitational force of a dead planet. His magic saves his life from being claimed by the impact, but he's hurt. His limbs are twisted and mangled, and he lays in a broken heap for a small eternity, with not even enough strength left in him to weep.
And that's when it happens.
He's found.
It would have been better if he'd stayed lost.
The Other is dangerous and otherworldly on his own, with his hideous, grotesque scars and gnarled teeth, but it's who he serves that makes Hari's eyes narrow. Thanos' eyes are full of wicked satisfaction as he surveys their latest find, and his grin is the stuff of nightmares.
Healing Loki isn't an act of generosity. No, nothing so altruistic as that. The Other whispers honeyed poison in Loki's ears as he lays bedridden. "You have been wronged, Asgardian. But no matter. Soon, Asgard will know what they have lost. If Thor so desires Earth, let him have it. You can be of use to Thanos and His cause."
"No," Loki rasps, weak and yet so full of scorn. "Thor deserves no kingdom."
"What will you do then?"
Loki coughs, a ragged sound that steals his breath. Rage threatens to smother his voice as he hisses, "I will destroy that wretched planet he loves. But first, I will make them regret earning his love in the first place."
Tony's hand trembles in hers, and Hari fights to keep her own steady. The rage is palpable, thick, but not thick enough to conceal the devastation behind his words, and she hates that her heart goes out to him, that she has such a deep understanding of what he's feeling right now.
Because she's been that rejected, neglected child. Watching Loki is like looking at a reflection. They don't quite match, not really, but the similarities are enough that Hari wonders what she would have become if her Hogwarts letter never came, if she had stayed that Freak Under the Stairs.
"And how, exactly do you think you will accomplish such a task?"
"Lend me the Chitauri," Loki demands. "I will lead them in the glorious battle."
"Battle? Against the meager might of Earth?"
"Humans may be cowering wretches," Loki spits, "but Thor has designated himself their champion. The Chitauri will help overtake that forsaken planet, and when Thor comes to their aid, the Chitauri will feed on his army as well."
There's a long pause, and then the Other purrs, "Prove to them how worthy a King you are."
As soon as Loki's body is fully functional again, the Other is pressing a staff in his hands, a staff that has Tony sucking in a sharp breath. Loki's eyes, as green as Hari's, flash a pale blue. It flickers between the colors, as if a battle of wills is taking place. Something in Hari clenches tightly when it finally settles on that awful Tesseract blue.
"I want the Tesseract, boy," Thanos warns from his throne. Loki kneels before him, looking not dissimilar to a puppet whose strings are slack. "There won't be a moon to hide on if you disappoint me."
"I will deliver what you seek," Loki promises, his voice a dull monotone.
Hari thinks about going further, about ripping out even more memory from the crevices of Loki's mind, but she can feel Tony damn near shaking like a leaf next to her. He does his best to hide it, to control his shallow breaths, but it's enough that Hari immediately pulls them out of Loki's head.
They got the information they need.
The memory dissolves into nothing, and Hari keeps a firm hold on Tony to keep him standing. He's sweating, looking a little green around the gills.
Loki glares at her hatefully from his place on the ground. "Happy?" he spits.
"Ecstatic," she bites out. Turning to Odin, she says, "This is partially your fault."
He cocks an eyebrow. "And how do you suppose that is?"
"If you hadn't driven him to madness, Thanos never would have been able to entice him so."
Perhaps it's a little unfair to lay all the blame on Odin's feet, but Hari's own emotions are so jumbled up that she's having a hard time distinguishing her past from Loki's. It's always sticky when personal feelings are involved, and it's made even worse by her deep, intimate knowledge of just why Loki felt compelled to lash out.
It doesn't make it right, but she's more understanding and sympathetic to his situation given the reopened wounds of her childhood.
"So… so Loki was not responsible for the attack on Earth?" Thor sounds so hopeful.
Tony lets out a weak snort. "As much as I hate to admit it, Reindeer Games wasn't acting under his own mind." He shakes his head. "It was that damn scepter. I should have connected the dots when he tried to magic me into helping him."
"Hey, no, none of that," Hari says. She stares into Tony's bloodshot eyes and cups his face. "You did the best you could with the information you had. No more, no less."
He grasps her hand, and his grip is still a little shaky, but it's strong. "That's nice of you to say, sweetheart, but I'm a genius. I should have noticed."
Before Hari can say anything else, they're interrupted by slow clapping. They turn to see Loki, still on his knees, clapping his hands and laughing harshly.
"Well played, witch," he says darkly. "Very well played."
It's amazing, how conflicted emotions can be. Hari both sympathizes with Loki and wants to take her considerably building rage out on him. If he hadn't taken such a stroll in her mind, she wouldn't be feeling so all over the place. What she needs is a night to carefully construct her Occlumency shields again. She doesn't have the magic to do it now, but tomorrow? Tomorrow, her mind will be locked tighter than Azkaban post-Voldemort.
Hari turns to Odin. "We have our answer," she says. "And you know that Loki wasn't completely responsible for attacking Earth. Is Asgard in the habit of keeping prisoners of war locked up for crimes they were forced to commit?"
Thor immediately straightens up. He doesn't say anything, opting to look at his father, but from the hard set of his shoulders, Hari knows he won't accept anything less than Loki's freedom.
Odin's lips twist. "…Loki is dangerous," he starts, and he holds his hand up when Thor inhales deeply. "It won't be without stipulations."
It takes a few moments for the meaning of his words to sink in. Frigga doesn't bother trying to hide a smile, and Thor studies his father carefully for a few moments before turning to Loki.
Loki is frozen in place, in disbelief, and that disbelief doesn't fade.
Not when Odin calls for a guard.
Not when the magic of his golden prison dissipates into the ground.
Not when special cuffs with golden runes are placed on his wrists.
Hari only half-listens to the rules of Loki's conditional release. The adrenaline is fading, and all that's left is a numbness that starts to travel to her fingers. Tony squeezes her hand, and she squeezes his back.
"We have much more to discuss," she tells Odin, "but for now, we're going to retire to our room. It's been a long day."
It's not a request.
She should probably be more polite to him, given that he's the King, but she's had enough of his family drama encroaching on what should have been a diplomatic mission. For a little while, she just wants to… relax. She wants to take a breather.
It's a miracle they make it back to their rooms in one piece. Thor had offered to escort them, but he'd also looked so longingly at his brother that Hari immediately refused his help.
Tony looks almost like a zombie. His bloodshot eyes stare at her, but it's like he's not really seeing her. She's seen that look before, in a mirror in the first few months after the war ended, and she hates that he looks like that.
She hates that she's partially responsible for him looking like that.
"I'm sorry," she whispers.
Tony blinks and then focuses his vision on her. "For what? You didn't do anything."
Hari shrugs. "I shouldn't have taken you into the memories with me. You were already not feeling well from seeing mine."
"I wanted to go with you," he points out. "I wanted to be there for you. Don't apologize for that."
Such simple acceptance. Hari's heart clenches tightly, and it's like the air in the room slowly starts to disappear. She swallows thickly, but her throat is dry, scratchy, and she can feel herself start to tremble.
"I didn't want you to see all of that," she confesses hoarsely. "I wanted… I wanted to tell you myself."
"You should have gotten that chance." Tony pulls her into his arms, and she can feel him trembling too.
Hari buries her face in his chest and tries to breathe, tries to remind herself that she's not that unwanted little freak anymore. Nobody's going to stuff her in a cupboard or torture her or try to kill her. Tony wouldn't let anybody do anything to hurt her, and more importantly, neither will she.
So why does she feel like she's seventeen again?
Why does it feel like the weight of the world is crushing her, turning her to dust underneath impossible expectations, taking everything she has and demanding more?
Her nails must bite into Tony's skin, but he doesn't complain. He holds her tighter, and the feeling of warmth and safety is so all-encompassing that she feels the first hot tear escape.
Her breath stutters in her throat, and she sucks in a gasping breath. Hari tries to hold it in, she really does, but it's too much. Tony cards his fingers through her hair. He doesn't quiet her, doesn't tell her everything is going to be okay.
He lets her fall apart in his arms.
It's one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for her.