This fic is going to be AU. I'm assuming that there is a Council that Odin answers to (to some extent). Now for this fanfiction, Odin will not be depicted as evil, just a little neglectful as a father because of his duties as a king. While Asgardians inhabit all of Asgard they all answer to Odin, so I see the civilization as being pretty close-knit. That is why word spread so quickly that a sorcerer had broken into Asgard.

Odin has two ravens (Huginn and Munnin) who travel Midgard and Asgard bringing him news of everything that happens. They are not bound to carry the exact news Heimdall told Munnin to, so that was how Thor knew so much about Harry.

This fic is not beta'd so any and all mistakes are mine, so I apologize for any that slip through the cracks of a general spelling and grammar checker.

Enjoy!

As the guards pushed him towards the golden palace in the distance, Harry couldn't help but marvel at the sight around him on the way. The entire city was made of gold, not just the palace. Asgardians ducked through the wide streets, going about their daily lives. Several of them looked up to watch the guards push him along but ignored Harry in favor of calling out greetings to his escorts.

His magic pulled and tugged at him despite the magic suppressing cuffs on his wrists. Blue, pink, purple, green, red, yellow, and orange auras collected in the corners of his eyes as the magic of Asgard unfolded before him. According to one of the many books Harry had read, only the most powerful magic wielders could see magical auras. Different colors meant a series of different things.

The magical auras of wizards, Harry'd noticed, were all different colors and seemed to change depending on what those wizards were good at. Elementals had a mostly blue aura, while a wizard good at charms would have a pink coloring to their aura.

Then, there were spells. Spells didn't always have a standard color. When Harry first saw auras, he unintentionally blew up Grimmauld Place.

Flashback...

Harry stood in the parlor in Grimmauld Place a handful of floo powder gripped so tightly his knuckles were white. Two years ago, the Battle of Hogwarts raged through the cheer-filled halls of the beloved school of magic. Two years ago, the little voice in the back of his head would have reminded him that he should feel discomfort at the way he was holding the floo powder, but it was silent now. Hermione and Ron had gotten engaged a week ago and invited him to Hogsmeade with them for the day to celebrate.

Ever since Voldemort's death, the media had hounded him more than before. All in one instant he'd gone from being Undesirable #1 to the Man-Who-Conquered. Not to mention, the more time that went on, the more the Hallows' changes became apparent. His magic was growing in leaps and bounds it was hard to keep it under control. He found himself accidentally summoning and lighting random things on fire when he was particularly irritated. It'd gotten even worse after his Holly wand refused to work for him.

It scared him, how out of touch his magic was. If anyone was to find out how out of control he was with his magic, by Ministry law they could bind it and obliviate him. Harry didn't want to accidentally hurt his friends either.

So, the only alternative was to hide away in Grimmauld Place, ignoring his friends not so subtle attempts to get him to leave his self-imposed isolation. Harry looked down at the silvery powder in his hand. He didn't want to go. Every muscle in his body was taut, ready to dash away from the fireplace at a moment's notice.

Harry rolled his eyes at himself internally and threw the floo powder into the empty hearth. Green flames burst up from the ground before Harry stepped in. Calling out the place he wanted to go, the flames burst up around him before stumbling out of the Leaky Cauldron floo.

The Leaky Cauldron was exactly like he remembered. The inside was dark and dreary. Worn, rickety tables and chairs set about the room holding cracked cups and weary patrons. Tom nodded to him behind the bar.

Harry pushed open the door and stepped out onto the narrow, crowded street when it happened. Brilliant lights, flashing orbs, a cacophony of noise, light, and power assaulting his senses in an unmanageable amount. Harry gasped, feeling like the breath had been stolen out of his lungs. He was drowning!

All at once, Harry found himself back at Grimmauld Place, somehow having apparated through the wards, shattering them completely. Kreacher had pushed the strongest calming draught the old elf had in his hands and served him his favorite tea.

In all of five seconds, the calming draught had worked through his system and he was back where he started. Somehow amid all the suffocating darkness and endless screaming Harry passed out. Waking up the next morning to find half of Grimmauld Place had been blown to smithereens all around him. All the three of the Hallows hovered in the air around him possessively, begging to be touched by their master.

Kreacher was no worse for the wear, thankfully and Harry spent the rest of the day knitting the destroyed house back together like a patchwork spell. Then, things had gotten weird. After the full day of uttering the reparo spell way too many times than what was considered remotely sane, Grimmauld Place rose all around him again, just like it was before.

Before, as in he was back to the same day he left for Hogsmeade to meet Hermione and Ron, somehow having time-traveled all by himself without a time turner two days back in time...and left to live the same two days all over again without anyone the wiser, except himself.

Harry managed to scrawl out a barely readable letter to Hermione and Ron telling them he couldn't make it after all and spent the rest of the day in his panic room (aka, the Black secret library). Ironically, it was that same day he found an old manuscript detailing a place called Asgard.

End of Flashback...

The guards around him stiffened and came to a stop, forcing Harry out of his daydreams. They all eyed him warily fingering their weapons.

While the cuffs were designed to completely restrict the magic of whoever wore them, Harry could see the auras around him, proof his magic was still accessible. Along with not feeling whatever came in contact with his skin, Harry also had a hard time sensing his magical core. Before he blew up Grimmauld Place (and time traveled all on his own), his magic was like a faint buzz beneath his skin. Now he couldn't feel it all.

The citizens all watched the small party warily, looking torn between running for safety and coming closer. Something had them stirred up, and the way they looked at him hinted he was the source.

"Cease your tricks, sorcerer. The King had ordered you to be taken to the dungeons, but if you cause any problems for us, we will not hesitate to kill you." A horned guard growled.

Cease your tricks? What did that even mean? He wasn't doing anything wrong. But then again, his body and his magic were so out of touch since the Hallows, how could he prove otherwise? It was hard to pull back your magic if you couldn't feel it in the first place.

Harry glanced down at the cuffs clamped around his wrists. They were made out of a silver that glowed with a luster Harry could only describe as otherworldly. His heightened eyesight could make out the layers of complex runes carved into the metal meant to cut off the magic of whoever wore them. Harry also saw the blue/silver cloud surrounding his wrists, overpowering the cuffs. His magic was fighting back with a mind of its own.

Harry glanced up to his arms, noticing the blue/silver mist engulfing his entire body. The former human tensed. The last time he lost control of his magic he tore his home to shred and then traveled back in time like it never happened in the first place. The sight of his magical aura was most likely the reason for the guard's trepidation.

He needed to stop his magic from hurting everyone around him. The multi-colored bridge glowed under his feet soft and reassuring, but Harry could also see how his magic was integrating with the bridge. The blue/white mist was sinking into the bridge. Harry and the guards could only watch in horror as the blue slowly spread across the rainbow bridge a frost blue.

Heart in his throat, Harry tried to pull his magic back into himself but failed, it was slipping out of his grasp every time he tried to contain it. The citizens of Asgard were also starting to panic and tried to put as much distance between themselves and rapidly encroaching magic. The blue slipped over the edge of the bridge and started infecting the golden cobblestones that led the way through all of Asgard.

Soon enough screams started sounding as children and women panicked, backing away from Harry's magic and what it could try to do to them.

A planter full of purple flowers was engulfed first, wilting; frost-bitten. A loud bang sounded, and the world went dark.