Chapter 11
Harry whistled merrily as he entered the shop, bells jingling overhead as the door was opened. For what must've been the thousandth time that week, Loki sighed. 'Can you please stop whistling?'
'Nope, I'm trying to get in the Christmas spirit.'
Loki snorted. 'You're not a Christian and you have a Norse god living inside your head.'
'If you can die, you're not really a god.'
'I wish I hadn't told you that.' Loki sighed once again. 'Compared to humans, I am a god. Is that good enough for you?'
'I could argue that compared to humans, I'm a god.'.
'You could argue, but you would be arguing against me and would therefore lose, seeing as compared to you, I am a god.' Loki's tone held nothing but confidence, and Harry had no doubt that he would lose any argument against the silver-tongued, millennia old trickster – not that it stopped him from trying, of course.
'Well if you're a god, why can't you stop me whistling?' he asked, though he already knew the answer. He just enjoyed mocking Loki.
'We both know fully well that I could stop you, I just don't want to cause you to have a seizure.'
After being in Italy for over a year, Harry had picked up quite a bit concerning Occulumency, helped by Loki's expertise at the mental arts. Since Harry had wanted to keep Loki's presence close, seeing as he needed him for guidance and channelling Asgardian spells, he needed to keep Loki within his barriers. This meant that whilst Loki could now read his thoughts to a level he couldn't before, he was effectively within Harry's domain, thus having less control over him and his annoying whistling habit.
Loki, being as skilled as he was, could definitely stop Harry if he wanted to, though the required effort would annoy him more than the whistling did and would leave Harry in immense pain, unable to defend himself against any exterior threats. Suffice to say, Loki didn't care enough about Harry's "Christmas Spirit" to stop him.
Still whistling Harry moved up to the counter of the shop and looked around. He hummed thoughtfully. "I want the….um, let me think. Oh yeah, the protection money please."
The shopkeeper jumped slightly, clearly surprised as his hand crept for his wand. "What are you? Eleven? I ain't giving money to a-"
He was interrupted as Harry muttered, "I'm twelve actually, and Expelliarmus," and sent him flying into the shelves behind him. Switching his whistling into humming, Harry vaulted over the counter and blasted the lock off of a drawer, standing on the groaning shopkeeper as he rooted through the money, taking a little extra as reparations for the additional effort the man had caused by resisting.
Hopping back over the counter, he exited the store with a jovial, "Goodbye, and Merry Christmas! Be sure to pay next month if you want to keep selling dark artefacts without the authorities breathing down your neck and your legs broken!"
He strolled down the alley confidently, his wand firmly in his hand. While a child was usually an easy target, this being very near Orrizo Alley, the Italian equivalent of Diagon Alley, he was probably safe. If someone did choose to attack him, however, things weren't going to turn out well for them.
Arriving in Orrizo Alley he moved along it, wishing that anti-apparation charms weren't in place within it, even though he was actually terrible at apparation. Then again, that was one of the main reasons he rented a place here. The charms over the alley were far more powerful than anything he could put up himself, so there was no chance of surprising him by suddenly apparating in. Other wards were in place at his apartment building as well, and whilst they weren't exactly strong, they would hold back any unwanted intruders for long enough for Harry to escape.
He had been offered a room at Marco's parents' manor, but he enjoyed his privacy and didn't think that a house shared with dozens of guards and staff would offer that.
Just as Harry was entering the lobby of his building a fireplace flared with green flames and out stepped Marco, brushing soot off the shoulders of the expensive-looking black cloak he wore on top of his suit. His blue eyes scanned around for a moment before he picked out Harry and walked over to him.
The man chucked a bag of golden coins at him and Harry caught it easily, raising an eyebrow at its weight. "Christmas bonus," supplied Marco.
"Really? What did I do to earn this?" He frowned mockingly. "I haven't saved your life in at least a month."
'33 days,' Loki reminded.
Marco laughed. "I would have survived anyway, just wouldn't have been able to use my arm for a few days – and let's not forget all the times I've saved your behind."
"Whatever." Marco reached to try and ruffle Harry's hair, but he dodged out the way. "You could have waited a few days to give me that, what do you want?"
As if to deny it, Marco opened his mouth and then re-thought, abruptly closing it again. By this point he knew that Harry was rather adept at detecting lies. "I need you to do something for me on Christmas Eve. My family is hosting a ball for Yule, and I need you to come."
For a moment Harry was silent. "Marco, as I told you when we first met, I'm not a prostitute unless you pay me a lot."
He laughed. "You misunderstand." He paused. "Actually you understand quite well, but it is not me you shall be escorting, it is my sister."
"Wow," Harry murmured. "I've seen your sister, and I'm pretty sure she isn't ugly enough that you need to pay someone to take her as a date." In all honesty, Marco's sister was attractive, but Loki had informed Harry you weren't supposed to tell girl's brothers that unless you were trying to annoy them.
"I'm paying you to be her bodyguard, not her date." Marco sounded exasperated, used to Harry purposefully misinterpreting anything he said in order to annoy him. "She's thirteen, and you're the only person within her age range who I trust to guard her."
"And why exactly does she need guarding?"
Marco bit down on his lip, and Harry guessed that he was wondering whether or not to tell him something. "Recently, there have been betrayals within the organization. Previously loyal members and families are turning away from my father's leadership and to our rivals. Many will be at this ball, members and non-members alike. When even our allies cannot be trusted, members of my family undoubtedly in danger. Unlike the rest of us, my sister is unable to protect herself as well, but it will be a sign of weakness if she does not attend."
Harry thought for a moment, weighing up the risks and the undoubtedly large prize. It wasn't like he had any plans for Christmas anyway. "I'll do it."
"I knew I could count on you," said Marco, smiling. "The dress code is formal, so you can wear a robe over a suit. We'll be wearing black, so you probably should too."
A snort escaped Harry. "When I'm forced to wear a robe, do you really think that it would be anything other than black?"
"Anyway, show up at the manor at 5:00pm on Christmas, and no funny business with my sister, her brother is in the Mafia." With a wink, he swaggered back over to the Floo and disappeared in a burst of green fire.
As a result of Loki's prior insistence, Harry already owned an expensive – too expensive, in his opinion – black suit with a matching robe. Harry would have preferred a cape (they restricted movement less, and more importantly, looked cooler) but he didn't want to gain unneeded attention by being dressed differently to everyone else.
So dressed in his suit and robe with one dagger holstered at his left ankle, another under his suit blazer and his wand sheathed in his sleeve, Harry moved downstairs to the lobby, locking his apartment behind him. Grabbing a handful of Floo powder and hurling it into the fire, he said, "Aurelius Manor," and was enveloped in green flames.
The world blackened and then he was rushing through darkness, lights glimmering around him. Suddenly he was thrown out of his destination's fireplace. For a moment he tumbled before regaining his footing with near inhuman grace.
Even though he had been keyed into the wards, a barrier of shimmering light still held him back from entering the rest of the manor's grand entry hall. Two robed men stood opposite from him, but neither moved to unleash him from the secondary ward. Harry sighed, wondering how funny their reactions would be if he decided to blast it down. It had not been designed to withstand Asgardian magic.
He was ripped from his contemplations as Marco came through the doors at the end of the room that Harry knew led further into the house. He motioned to the men and one pointed his wand at a glowing, blue crystal next to him, taking down the ward for just long enough for Harry to step into the house.
"Ah, Harry." Marco looked down to the gleaming golden watch upon his wrist. "You are exactly on time."
"Did you expect anything else?" Harry moved up to Marco and matched his pace as they strode though the manor. "How long until the other guests arrive?"
"Half an hour," he answered, "I-" He paused, looking to Harry with slight worry in his eyes. "You do know how to dance, right?"
Harry nodded. Whilst it wasn't technically true, Loki knew how to dance, and Harry could simply channel the god through himself. Well, it wasn't exactly simple, thus why he didn't use it to learn how to fight. With Loki's help he could do it subconsciously, not having to concentrate on it, but it would also make it impossible for him to do any magic. Not being able to simultaneously use a blade and magic was bad. Not being able to dance and do magic? Not so much.
"Don't tell me that's why you made me come half an hour early, to ask me if I knew how to dance? What were you going to do if I didn't know how to dance, try and see if you could teach me in half an hour?"
Marco rolled his eyes. "Of course not, I made you come early to ensure all was in order." He paused briefly. "And to the latter, I really have no idea."
A snort escaped Harry. "So, what's my cover?"
"You're a son of a wealthy associate from America-"
"Can I be Russian?" Harry interrupted. Marco raised an eyebrow. "I can do the accent really well," he supplied.
Marco appeared sceptical, but said, "Sure."
"Anyway, what does your sister know? Am I a guard or a mysterious Russian vampire prince, come to-"
Marco shot him a glare that reduced that the rest of his sentence to sniggers. "A guard, and can you actually do a Russian accent, or are you just going to look like an idiot?"
Harry looked slightly appalled. "Marco, how dare you doubt me?" he said, slightly channelling his limited AllSpeak ability into a Russian accent.
Marco looked slightly impressed. "Okay, good enough. Also, don't piss my sister off. Her word has good standing with our father, and if you can impress her, it could result in promotion."
"What exactly is a promotion? Do I get to extort higher-end stores?"
With a shrug, Marco said, "We'll see."
They were now nearing the next set of doors, and Harry allowed himself to relax, mentally making sure that he was prepared. Somehow, he still felt that having to dance was more of a threat than assassination attempts.
'My host's first contact with someone his age in six years, and a girl at that.' A mocking sigh escaped Loki. 'They grow up so fast.'
A/N: So not too much happened, but tell me what you thought. And yes, his name is Marco Aurelius, because why not? As the saying goes, when in Rome, give your characters Roman-esque names...
