Loki crawled out of the passage onto a wet Hogsmeade street. A chill wind rippled through his clothes, swirling past the dark homes and the closed-off shutters of the Three Broomsticks. He sped up, his boots clopping urgently against the cobbles.
The Hogs' Head was open, though its tables were empty. The sullen bartender was the only one there, wiping down mugs with a grimy rag.
Loki dropped a knut on the table, scooping some floo powder into his hand.
"Are you going after him?" the bartender asked.
"Yes," Loki said, walking over to the hearth. There was no need to ask who him referred to. Everyone knew of Loki's pronouncement.
The bartender grunted.
"Albus had a message for you."
Dumbledore? Loki thought. How—
"Protect the child," the bartender said.
Loki waited, fingers poised to throw the powder. The bartender failed to elaborate. "That's it?"
"It's not enough?" the man asked bitterly.
"No," Loki said, leaning over the bar. "When did he tell you this?"
"I don't know, Wednesday or Thursday," the bartender snapped. "Why does it matter?"
Loki eyed him, pushing aside his annoyance at Dumbledore's presumptuousness. There was something about that message, something strange...
He stopped abruptly, then ran for the fire, hitting the flames just as they turned green.
"Godric's Hollow!"
Then with a burst he was out, a hastily drawn spell taking him through the wall and sprinting down the slush-covered streets. The neighborhood cast a strange tableau, the peaks and wells of footprints and tire-tracks thrown into sharp relief by the bright glare of distant magic. The protection spell. He ran faster.
The Potters were the center of this fight. Voldemort knew it; it was why he kept returning to them like a fly on a chunk of rotting meat, instead of going after Loki or Dumbledore. Dumbledore knew it, had expected it enough to send a warning before Black was even kidnapped. And the Potters knew it, hiding themselves away from the world. They were the subjects of the prophecy. They were the ones who could defeat the dark Lord.
Loki turned a corner, throwing up a spray of snow.
So, which is it- James or Lily?
He strode ahead, reaching the small space between two houses where a little globe of magic burned like a tiny sun. He stepped through it and a jumble of bricks, magic, and flesh passed through his mind like a dream.
Wards— outrageously complicated ones. He'd seen something like them only once before, in the Mage's Library at Asgard.
Given a few weeks, perhaps days, Loki might have learned enough about the structure to disassemble it properly.
"Pity," Loki murmured. He summoned his magic and, bracing himself, hurled it against the wards. His form began to darken as magic streamed from his stomach, his chest, his legs. The globe heated up, brighter and brighter, then the Potter house exploded outward and he stumbled back, his whole torso burning from the exertion. Still, Loki grinned. When he'd tried this in the Asgardian Library, he'd passed out cold.
James Potter was sprawled out on the floor of a ruined living room, his glasses fallen from sightless eyes. Loki stepped over the body and ran up the stairs, waiting until just before he stepped into the room to invoke invisibility. Lily's face was tear-soaked, desperate, pleading, pathetic. And yet he could not look away.
"Please, please not Harry— please not Harry—"
He summoned an invisible knife, grimly cognizant that this would be his last transfiguration tonight. He edged towards the side of the crib, making out a white face and dark hair, still damp. Thin golden lines cushioned the baby's form in fragile, weblike threads. And in the center of his forehead where the threads all met, a jagged pattern dabbed in blood.
"Stand aside, you silly girl—"
Loki raised the knife—
"Avada Kedavra"
—and pricked his index finger. A drop of blood fell onto the baby's forehead, at once gliding into the lightening pattern. The shield glowed, fiery, and did not fade.
A moment later, Lily dropped to the floor and the shield glowed again, brighter.
The last dregs of magic sustaining Invisibility drained away and he threw his knife, suddenly visible, at Voldemort's face. He caught it.
Loki dropped, aghast. No one caught his knives. Voldemort laughed softly.
"I was wondering whether you would come tonight," he said, raising his wand. "Avada Kedavra."
Loki dodged, suddenly cognizant of just how much he relied on his magic reserves. No illusions. No spells. Even his movements were sluggish.
"Petrificus Totalis," Voldemort said, and Loki fell, his arms and legs stuck.
"Avada Kedavra." Loki felt a sting, like another prick of the finger.
Voldemort turned back toward the crib, and Loki realized what was going to happen before it did, the words flashing through his mind. Protect the child. Not a command. Advice.
"Avada Kedavra." His wand tip glowed green. The last thing Loki saw was the light streaking towards Harry's body before the room exploded.
An agonized screech ripped through the air as Loki hurtled backwards, colliding with the wall in a burst of white hot pain. His chest had split open, his head roiling with an agonized scream. His entire body was on fire, hammering from the inside out so hard his ears were going to burst with the pressure. Wails split through the haze of smoke above and Loki felt with them in complete synchrony, they were dying; this was the agony of death.
The ash began to settle on his face and the pain slowly leached away to a dull lack of sensation. His body felt boneless and raw, like a discarded poppet. Loki glanced upward, listening as the baby's wails subsided to quiet, hiccuping tears.
He scrabbled along the floor and pulled himself up on the remains of a wall. He was no mortal. He would not be felled by… whatever that was. He forced a step on one limp leg. The explosion had thrown him out into the hall. Now, he carried himself back into the nursery, step by stumbling step. The baby's crib, the epicenter of the explosion, was tilted on two damaged legs, but otherwise, remarkably intact. Seeing the baby properly, Loki was surprised by how much it looked like himself. White skin, black hair, green eyes.
Though of course in his case it was all a lie.
He clutched the guardrail, too tired to silence the little voice in his head insisting that he could have done something, could have released those last drops of magic holding the monster in, could have reached out and left the mortal black and burnt with frost-
The child's sobs broke into his litany and he picked it up automatically, as he and Thor had done hundreds of times on procession. Support the head... The child quieted in his arms, its green eyes fluttering closed. Loki glanced down, suppressing the urge to collapse on the broken floorboards. He walked out on the street, the February winds whipping past and making the baby burrow deeper into his arms.
The Hog's Head bartender rushed down as Loki trudged in, still in his striped nightcap. Loki dragged himself over and dropped some coins onto the counter next to the infant.
"I demand… your very nicest room," he said woozily.
The bartender looked at him, then the baby.
"Alright," he said, turning up the stairs. "Is he dead?"
Loki shot him a scornful look, slightly impeded by fluttering eyelids.
"Thought so," the man mumbled. "I knew it could happen. Don't have any staying power, those dark lords. I always said... Hold a minute."
Loki stood in the hallway, swaying with exhaustion. The baby was heavy against his chest, already smudged with blood and dark magic and tears. The patterns in the wallpaper seemed to be flowing, or perhaps it was him, swaying on his feet.
At last the man returned with a cradle and opened a door, and Loki put the baby down and stumbled towards the bed. Then his eyes closed and he was falling into black.
A/N: Hello, dear readers!
Terribly sorry to kill James and Lily again, and just when we were getting to know them, but the fic must go on, and I hope you will like where it's going! I'd love to hear what you thought of this chapter- there were a lot of difficult choices involved, and I'd be interested to know if you were surprised (for better or for worse)! I'd like to thank the people who stopped to review last chapter- LeaT22 and Silvermane1's were particularly heartwarming :-), as well as my beta, Prevaricator's Penchant, without whom this chapter would be a heck of a lot more confusing. Next chapter will be a bit of the larger fallout, so stay tuned!
Best,
Purpleread