Chapter 29

'I can't believe she denied me,' Harry said, waking up in his own room.

'Me either,' said Loki. 'I mean, how could she when your proposition was so subtle and eloquently put?'

'Perhaps it was too subtle.' Harry nodded to himself, laughing. 'That must be it.'

Loki snorted. 'You are truly a master in the art of seduction.'

With a slight yawn, Harry rolled out of bed. For a moment he contemplated unpacking his backpack, which sat in the corner into which it had been hurled. It took him a few seconds to decide that it wasn't worth the effort, and that Marco probably had nicer clothes anyway.

He wandered over to the cupboard and threw it open. Suits greeted him, lots of suits.

'Well,' Loki said, 'it seems as though Marco wants you to look like a mini version of him.'

'I do look fantastic in a suit.' Harry grinned. 'Then again, I look fantastic in anything.'

'Of course you do; you take after me.'

'Except I'm normal enough to know that capes are only for formal occasions,' Harry said, beginning to get dressed.

Loki sniffed. 'You,' he said, 'are not a prince.'

A few minutes later, Harry exited his bedroom. He timed it so that Maria was directly outside the room at that point. He wasn't going to let her denial to go along with his plans ruin his prank.

"So," he said, sidling up to her, "have you finally decided to comply with my prank?"

Maria raised an eyebrow. "And what prank would that be?"

"Well, I'm making Marco think that we're dating each other."

A hint of red touched Maria's cheeks. "Why are you doing that?"

"It's funny." That was reasoning enough, Harry had decided. Maria didn't seem to agree, judging by the hesitance written on her face.

"Come on," Harry said, practically whining. "Isn't there anything you'd like to get back at him for? Anything at all?" He hummed. "Or are you just still annoyed with me?"

Maria scowled. "What would I be annoyed with you for?"

"Well, not asking you to the ball, tagging along on your Portkey, and probably a few other things." Harry did his best to look apologetic. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Suffice to say, he was not—not that Maria would ever know.

"Fine," she finally said. "But I'm not jealous."

Harry nodded. "I never said you were jealous, did I?"

Red tinged Maria's cheeks, but she did not speak, for they were already arriving at the dining room. Harry noted that the hallway was conveniently long. That was one of the benefits of having a mansion, of course. Perhaps the Potters had one somewhere that they hadn't managed to somehow lose. Probably not. They would've most likely thought it too "purebloody."

Subtly, Harry moved himself closer to Maria as he entered the room beside her. He had to make their "relationship" realistic, after all.

Marco was already sitting at the head of the breakfast table, apparently reading a newspaper. He scowled as he noticed Harry and Maria enter together, but said nothing.

Breakfast was already lying out upon the table, presumably placed there by house elves—or humans, Harry supposed. The Aureliuses could certainly afford it, and most likely wouldn't be against having slaves.

In silence, Harry pulled out a chair for Maria, and sat next to her, his mind still occupied by the topic of slaves.

'Do you think I should get some slaves?' he said, beginning to dig into his food.

'Mortals are too unreliable,' Loki said. 'They tend to die when you get angry and stab them.'

'I'm perfectly in control of my temper, thank you very much—I'll only beat them half to death.'

Loki snorted. 'I think you'll find the only reason you don't get angry about everything is because of my influence upon your mind when you were younger.'

'And because I'm actually capable of dealing with whoever annoys me.'

'That too,' agreed Loki. 'What I wouldn't have given to have that ability when I was younger.'

'Somehow, I feel as though that wouldn't have gone well for Asgard…or Jotunheim, or Midgard—or any of the other realms.'

'Have you no faith in my leadership skills, Harry?' Loki said, his tone dramatic. 'Have I not kept you alive all of these years, even with you making imbecilic moves at every single turn?'

'Hey! Not every turn!' Mock indignity burst from Harry's voice.

Loki gave a mental nod. 'Yes, I suppose you do occasionally make good decisions—like jumping out windows and leaving your wand behind because you thought it would be cool, or forgetting to collect your golden egg, which was the sole purpose of the task.'

For a moment, Harry was silent. 'I was concussed both of those times. They don't count.' Before Loki could come up with a whole new list, he continued, 'Say anything else, and I'll do something stupid now,' he warned. 'And don't test me; you know I will.'

Loki sighed. 'Speaking of your idiotic actions, we should probably learn how to Obliviate people.'

'Probably, and we'll need it to cover up the trail of brain-dead people we leave whilst we're practising how to do it.'

'Fine,' Loki conceded. 'We'll wait until we've won the Tri-Wizard Tournament and there's no way for us to be linked to any of our not-victims.'

'Once again, I destroy you in a battle of will and wit. Are you getting old, Loki?' Harry deflected Loki's mental attack; it was roughly equivalent to a firm poke to the stomach, and blocking it was a matter of pride. Harry, after all, had to prove his superior will and wit.

After a few minutes, Harry decided that he was most likely unnerving Marco and Maria by not having moved in the last minute and a half, and called a cease-fire with Loki.

"So," he said with a grin, "what are we doing today?"

As he had been doing since Harry and Maria entered the room, Marco glared. And then he said, "Well, I've been meaning to speak to you two." His scowl grew more menacing, almost comically so. "You're apparently dating, and I just thought it was necessary that I say something."

Slowly, Marco slid his chair back and stood, his expression dark and wand in hand. Under the table, Harry slid his own wand from his sleeve—just in case Marco did something rash. He was immediately aware as two guards slipped into the room behind him.

Marco moved from the head of the long table so that he was standing behind Maria and Harry. He leaned down between them, and menacingly whispered, "Hysterus Steria."

If it was a spell, it didn't work. Harry would have felt the magic react at such a close range.

"What?" Maria finally said.

Lips twisted into a malicious grin, Marco said, "It's a pretty good birth control spell."

Then he burst out laughing, and Harry followed a moment later. Maria looked too stunned and frightened to react.

"Why've you got to be such a crap actress, Maria?" Harry demanded, quelling his laughter. "It could've gone so well."

"Yep," Marco said. "But I was also notified that you were dating some 'Greengrass' girl."

Harry rolled his eyes. "And because I am a shining beacon of morality, you assume that I wouldn't cheat on her? Maria is hotter."

"And right here," Maria intervened, glaring at him.

"Are you never satisfied?" Harry asked. "I literally just said you were more attractive than Daphne, the girl you're jealous of."

Maria glared at him. "I'm not jealous; I jus—"

"Oh, hush, child," Marco said. "You are obvious as a Bludgeoning Curse to the face." He turned to Harry, grinning. "Let us leave the child here and go and do something."

Getting to his feet, Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course. Let's go and do mafia stuff."

"Mafia stuff?" Marco deadpanned. "Very secretive."

"Totally not Mafia stuff?"

"Much better."


Harry waved his wand over his face, weaving a net of illusions over himself. It took a few seconds for his hair to lighten to blond and extend to cover his famous scar, and his eyes to darken to brown. The movement of his facial features followed a few further seconds later. The illusion wasn't permanent—not by any means—but it was good enough to last for a few hours.

"How the hell do you do that?" Marco said, looking rather envious. "You're obviously not a metomorphmagus, and I'm fairly sure that you're nowhere near good enough at transfiguration to do that without completely messing up your bone structure."

Harry sighed condescendingly. "My dear Marco, all that matters is that I am able to do it," he said. "And rest assured, I am most definitely able to do it without screwing up my exquisite cheekbones—or any of my other beautiful features."

Rolling his eyes, Marco said, "Honestly, you're vainer than Maria."

"Prettier, too." With that, Harry stepped out of the side alley in which he and Marco had been standing. "If I was a more nostalgic person, I might make a comment about how this is the place where we first met."

'It's not.'

"Oh," said Harry. "The voice in my head has just informed me that this is a different alleyway."

Marco eyed him as though he was slightly crazy. "The voice in your head is correct."

'I normally am,' said Loki,

"He normally is," Harry said. "I think he gets it from me."

"Right," said Marco, drawing out the word as though he thought that Harry's claim was unfeasible. "Anyway, now you've got your make-up on, shall we get to what we came here to do?"

"I suppose."

Together, Marco and Harry strolled from the alleyway, and further into darker territory, into what would be best described as a rough Italian equivalent of Knockturn Alley. It wasn't long before they reached their destination, a brothel; they were not there as clients, however. No, if Harry wanted to get laid, there were a thousand other methods he could employ, and only a few of them included the Imperius Curse.

One would've thought that wizards, with all of their magic, wouldn't need a brothel, when they could go and snatch a few muggles off of the street. That, however, was illegal. But with a brothel, it was rather simple to claim that you hadn't known that the muggles were under the Imperius, and only the owners of the business would be committing a crime.

Understandably, businesses like these were generally rather sketchy, and ran by gangs and mafias, some of who were not the Aureliuses, and thus their enemies.

"You go in first," Marco said. "They might recognise me."

"Coward," Harry muttered, but complied, and moved into the room.

Immediately, he and Loki were analysing each possible threat. Two large men were sat in seats on either of the door. Judging by the wands in their laps and the way their eyes lazily dragged over Harry as he entered, they were guards. Neither appeared to be paying very much attention, though. Both were slumped in their chairs, and probably on some kind of drug judging by the state of their pupils.

They were there for intimidation, no doubt, to stop a fight before it began. They likely wouldn't be very good in a battle, and probably would've never had a reason to fear one. After all, they had been in truce with the Aureliuses for quite some time. Harry was about to change that.

Behind the counter was a third man, tall and scrawny. That didn't make much difference when you were dealing with wizards, though, and by his eyes, Harry judged him as the one who would handle himself best in a fight. He would be the first to die, then.

There were two other men in the room, both shifting impatiently. Harry immediately judged them as clients.

Five on one were terrible odds in a small room. Luckily for Harry, it wasn't five on one.

He walked up to the counter, instilling his stride with false nervousness. The man behind it grinned, revealing rows of grimy teeth. "What do ya want, kid?" he said, spittle flying from his mouth. "We've got anything—even house elves if you're into it." He burst into laughter at his own bad joke, and Harry smiled.

"Funny. I'll have…" he trailed off. "BOOM!"

The man had a moment to look confused and startled before the front door exploded in a storm of splinters and magic. His surprise didn't last long as an icicle burst from Harry's wand and speared him through the heart.

Harry was instantly turning, "Protego!" flying from his lips.

One spell hit the hastily erected shield and immediately shattered it, and another seared past Harry's head as he stepped to the side. He dived to the floor with a spat, "Stupefy!" A bolt of crimson sprang from his wand and splashed against the chest of a client, halting his fumbling for his wand.

Another stunner burst from the doorway and hit the second client, abruptly sending him to the floor.

Harry dived to the side as a guard sent a sickly yellow spell at him, and returned fire a moment later with an icicle that the probably intoxicated man didn't have the reflexes to block. He turned to take care of the second guard, but was only greeted by an explosion of gore as Marco's Blasting Curse struck the man in the head.

The room was still as Marco moved through the front door. The rest of the building was undoubtedly sound-proofed.

Harry glanced down at his blood-soaked suit, and then to Marco's pristine one. He looked just a tiny bit insane, and perhaps that would be an accurate description. He chuckled, twirling his wand between his fingers, and said, "It's good to be back to business."

A/N: So, this chapter is a tiny bit overdue. The explanation is that I started playing the game Warframe again, and couldn't be arsed to write anything (not that I've been active on my other fics...). If your not satisfied with that excuse, pretend I just told you I had copious amounts of homework and/or I am having issues with...something-you decided.

Anyway, I'm sorry if was random or seemed bad: I just needed to write it to actually move the story along, and was thinking about brothels (don't ask; I can't remember why) so here it is. I'm contemplating skipping the rest of the year to the Third Task, since it would probably be boring. Anyway, tell me what you thought.