A few days later, Loki stepped out onto an upraised platform in Diagon Alley, smiling out into the cheering crowd. Reporters crammed up at the front, toting cameras and shorthand quills. Little Harry squirmed in his arms, trying to get a grip on his golden bracers. By his side, Lucius and Amelia Bones were doing a good job of masking their exhaustion. Ever since the news had broken, they'd been working frantically to organize everything. And now… Loki raised a hand and the clapping trailed off.
He walked slowly across the stage, drinking in the looks of cautious hope on their faces.
"You have heard the rumors," he said. "On February 28th, Voldemort entered the Potter home. He tore through the protections and slew James and Lily as they struggled to defend their only child. I chased after him, coming upon him as he stood in the nursery, ready to carry out the last of his murders." Loki smiled thinly. "I slew him first."
A great cheer welled up in the crowd, and he raised his voice, holding Harry aloft.
"Because of Voldemort's defeat, this boy now lives! But he is not the only one. How many of you did Voldemort slaughter like swine? How many survived their days in fear?" He saw the somberness in their eyes and continued, more softly.
"Fear no more. This boy who lived is the first of a generation of wizards that need not cower before an evil lord. Rejoice, for you are the generation who lived!"
The crowd roared, cameras flashing madly. Some people blotted at their eyes with colored handkerchiefs, others wept openly. Harry screwed up his face like he was about to throw a fit; Loki handed him to Lucius, who jiggled him inexpertly, looking sour.
He turned back to the crowd, raising a hand and achieving a near instant silence. He paused an extra moment to savor the feeling before speaking once more.
"Some of you are still dissatisfied," he said. "A year ago, you made a choice to prop up the incumbents, decadent and ineffectual though they were. What were seven more years when every day was uncertainty? What was a ruler, when his hands reached for all? You were beggars; you chose like beggars. But that time has passed."
He could see his words passing over their faces. The flitting suspicion, the hope in their trusting eyes. He stopped his smile and took a step forward, his golden helmet glinting in the sun.
"Why should you continue to submit to fear and shadows?" he asked. A couple of voices were murmuring in the crowd. "Why should you be held to a beggar's choice?"
He continued, raising his voice above the rumbling wave of their discontent. The power in it was breathtaking, almost heady.
"You prayed in silence for survival," he said, almost hissing the words. "Now, raise your voice, and forge a legacy of life!"
He stepped back as the crowd rose up in fervor.
"Down with the ministry!"
"Raise your voice!"
"Down with Bagnold!"
And best of all, one impassioned cry that rose from the back and quickly spread through the crowd.
"Loki for minister!"
Loki allowed himself to be escorted into the closed bookstore they were using as their base, an unfamiliar feeling blossoming in his chest. Not just triumph— it was the way he had once felt when showing Frigga a new spell, or besting Thor at their childhood games.
If only they could see me now, he thought. I knew I would be the better king.
The thought soured him slightly, and he sat down crosslegged on a conjured chair, listening to the crowd's muted calls.
Bones and Lucius joined him.
"That was well done," she said. "I didn't think they'd jump to pushing your candidacy."
"Who else?" Lucius asked disdainfully.
"If Dumbledore ran…" Bones began.
"He's not going to run," Lucius cut in, exasperated.
"We've discussed this," Loki said, taking the baby back from Lucius. "He seems willing to work with me. I do not think he'll throw my goodwill away on the off chance of winning an election."
He tugged his sleeve away from the child's grasp, conjuring small golden horse for him to play with instead. "I'm more concerned with the minister."
"I don't think that Bagnold is going to be a problem," Bones said. "She's never been particularly enamored of the position, and she has a strong sense of honor. If the people call for a re-election, she'll feel compelled to give in."
Loki nodded. "We will be ready when she does. What is the state of the death eaters?"
"Terrible, thankfully," Bones said. "Pettigrew, Snape, Goyle, and Bellatrix Lestrange are all in ministry custody. The Lestrange brothers and Crabbe were found dead, through suicide or attacks."
Loki glanced at Malfoy, nodding almost imperceptibly.
"We got Barty Crouch," Bones said. "I would never have believed it if I didn't see the mark myself."
"What about Nott?" Lucius asked idly.
"Fled, but we're reaching out to the French Ministry about it," Bones said. "You realize you're going to have to go to trial for that mark? Not even spies are free of culpability."
"I have nothing to hide," Lucius said loftily.
Loki ignored them as they went back to bickering about the best promotional methods and who should be tasked with them. He looked down at the floor, where the apparition lines glowed brightly. Was it his imagination, or had they been a less inclined to shy away from him as of late? He reached out with a tendril of magic, pushing against the resistance.
"—that hag running your press releases?" Bones asked disbelievingly.
"I have no preference on the matter," Loki said, snapping his magic back. "I trust your considerable abilities are up to finding a solution."
Lucius leaned in at that, looking hungry.
"Do I need to mediate any more disputes or can I attend to the other matters?" Loki asked sardonically.
"We're fine," Bones said.
"Very well," Loki said. "I leave it in your capable hands."
He stood up, grasping a disgruntled Harry in his arms and reaching out with his magic once more. The line trembled beneath his questing thread as if trying to escape, and then he connected and the room melted away.
Loki appeared outside a flat white house, somewhere in the countryside. He lifted the baby, looking for traces of magic. Was Harry the reason he could suddenly apparate? He paused, tracing a finger across his chest. Blood was a powerful thing, and he and the baby had been covered with magical residue after the explosion. Perhaps by pricking his finger he had unwittingly partaken of some ritual, and that was why he was accepted by the lines.
He placed two fingers on the baby's forehead, ignoring its attempts to pull them down. Some of the dark residue was still mixed into the scar, difficult to see. It was probably harmless, especially bound by the protection spell. The only danger was its obviousness, declaring the chink in his sensitive magic armor. Loki traced the scar with his finger, illusing it over with clear flesh. He kept the thread of magic between him and the working, rather than snapping it off. That way, it could last theoretically forever, and he'd be able to use it as a tracking spell in a pinch.
He had seized guardianship of the boy as soon as he'd woken, before Dumbledore could come pleading about kinship and fame. Harry was part of this; he'd been the vessel for Loki's protection to defeat the dark lord, and a piece of him remained with Harry even now. The boy was his.
But he was an inconvenience, and someone needed to watch him from day to day, hence his current errand.
He walked through the gate, past well-groomed flowerbeds and small pestlike creatures and knocked on the door. Lupin opened it, unshaven, his robes gray and patchy. He looked at Loki, then his eyes flicked down to Harry.
"Come in," he said hoarsely.
Loki walked in, wrinkling his nose at the small living space. There was a rough wooden table with just two chairs, overlooked by ugly floral wallpaper. He seated himself at one of the chairs, settling Harry on his lap, as Lupin glided around in a daze, pulling out kitchen implements and putting them back.
Eventually, he produced some tea and a bottle for Harry. His arms jerked, as if to take him, then fell back down helplessly.
Loki fed it to Harry, watching the look on Lupin's face. It was less longing than utter defeat, the face of a cripple watching the warriors' parade.
"So you killed him," Lupin said dully.
"My condolences for your friends," Loki said.
Lupin shook his head. "James, Sirius… I can't even…" He put a hand to his face, and for a moment, Loki feared he was going to cry. But when he raised his head again, it was with a lifeless expression. "You're going to be minister now?"
"I am," Loki said, stirring the tea. The cup was chipped.
Lupin fell back into depressed silence.
"The baby is fine, in case you were wondering," Loki said, and Lupin's eyes went back to Harry, losing a bit of their dullness.
"Dumbledore wanted to place him with relatives," Loki said, letting Harry knock the bottle onto the table.
The glaze was back. "I suppose if Dumbledore thinks it best…"
"I disagreed," Loki said. "And had him placed under my temporary guardianship."
Lupin was stirring his tea without looking at it, eyes fixed on Harry and Loki. He didn't respond.
"Do you have any questions?" Loki asked, trying to contain the irritation rising up. Did the man even care?
Lupin looked up at him, twisting his scarred hands. He'd hardly moved his gaze from the baby since they'd sat down.
"You'll look after him," he said, his tone tinged with uncertainty. "Will I… Can I visit occasionally?"
Loki tightened his grip. The rough table, the flowers on the wall, everything suddenly felt colder.
"That's all?"
Lupin seemed to shrink back even further.
"I could never…" he said. "My condition…" he ran a hand over his shadowed face, looking wretched. "It would be wrong."
"Then you may not visit," Loki said icily. In the back of his mind he was aware that this was a disruption of his plans; that he would have to find some other guardianship for Harry, probably with those muggle relations, but he was too angry to care. How dare he? Abandoning the baby to a stranger. He was a friend— almost kin to the boy's father, but apparently concepts of loyalty and care did not apply to a helpless infant.
Loki swept Harry up, turning towards the door.
"No, wait," Lupin said, rushing after him. "Wait, please!"
He walked through the door and apparated away, Lupin's calls whisked away to nothing.
He apparated into Godric's Hollow. Since his announcement about running for ministry, Loki had been loath to stay at Hogwarts for very long, despite his ongoing teaching job. He'd put his pay and the bounties on the dark lord to the new property, and since he knew of at least one ancestral wizarding property in need of renovations, he'd decided to return here. There'd been some talk of memorializing the Potters and leaving the house to rot, but that had been easy enough to redirect.
Now, a troop of mortal workers and house-elves were building a new home in its place, a manor suitable for the leader of this regime. The chief builder nodded at Loki as he came in.
"Almost done," he said, sending a coat of paint down the hall with a sweep of his wand. "We'll be ready by tomorrow, sundown."
Loki nodded, clearing the floor and setting Harry down. Then he began to chant. This spell was one of the most complicated spells— knowledge spells always were, and it had limited use, but he had memorized it all the same, for in rare times he had found it invaluable. He had to make adjustments for the thing he sought, for its shape and the brand of magic he was still yet learning; he slipped them into the spell and reshaped it as he spoke, the perfect expression of his will. And at last, the bright blue magic all around him snapped to a particular spot, between the wall and the soil outside. He reached his hand through— a cantrip without wards in the way, and picked up the wand.
The baby glanced up, curious.
The wand felt heavier in his hand, almost familiar. The words came to his mind almost instinctively, the motions fluid.
"Morsmordre."
A snake and skull rose through the air before him and he quickly banished it, his smile going all the way down to his chest.
"Excellent."
Lupin found him that evening, back in his rooms at Hogwarts.
He had washed up, his face pale and his eyes determined.
"I want Harry," he said without preamble, when Loki opened the door.
"He's mine," Loki said.
"You said you had temporary care," Lupin said. "That means they haven't decided yet, not permanently. If you want to keep Harry from me, you'll have to go to court over it."
"And if I allow you to visit?" Loki asked.
"Then you'll still have to go to court over it," Lupin said. "I realized today— I thought about what James would've said if— if he'd seen— Sirius, and— and Peter, and I shouldn't have left Harry for an instant. I do have… considerations, and I know it won't be easy, but I was a fool to let you walk away with him, and I'd be a fool to do it now. I'm sorry, but I'm not going to let you take Harry without a fight."
"I'd win," Loki said.
"Not necessarily," Lupin said. "I knew James. I'll have Dumbledore's support. If I get a vote on it before you reach office, then I have a shot."
A very long shot, Loki thought, but from Lupin's desperate gaze, he already knew that. Perhaps Loki had misjudged him. He'd thought the man apathetic, or at least, too depressed to care, but it seemed he could muster some thought for the child after all.
The werewolf was no frost giant.
"Sit down," Loki said, waving Lupin in, and sending his magic to ask a house-elf for tea service.
"You won't win," Loki said, "Even if you rush it. They'd never give a child to a werewolf, not in the public eye."
Lupin opened his mouth to argue, but Loki cut him off. "Your dedication, however, is admirable, especially given your condition, lycanthropy, and lack of funds. If I may suggest a compromise?"
"Go on," Lupin said warily.
"I will adopt the child," Loki said. "I have a bond of protection over him, and no one will deny me."
Lupin's silver aura spiked.
"But," Loki continued, "You may care for him, especially as he grows."
"You want me to raise him?" Lupin clarified.
"Yes," Loki said.
"And on full moons?" Lupin asked.
"I'll take him then," Loki said. Once a month shouldn't be too difficult. He could always leave the child by Lucius if it got too onerous.
Something gripped his wrists and he tensed, just catching himself from throwing Lupin across the room.
"Thank you," the man was saying. "I mean it. Thank you. I'll guard him with my life."
"I'd expect nothing less," said Loki.
A/N: Hello Everyone!
This chapter comes with thanks to Prevaricator's Penchant for the beta edits and TheTzip for their kind critiques and encouragements. I'd also like to thank those of you who reviewed- reviews encourage me to write, even constructive criticism, and they're a surefire way to make my day. :-)
Cheers,
Purpleread
PS Mimi- I couldn't respond to your question directly because you left a guest account, so I'll try to address it here. :-) In this timeline, James and Lily are killed earlier than in the original, before Sirius would have switched secret-keepers with Peter. Instead of just betraying the Potters, Peter betrayed Sirius by handing him over to the death eaters/Voldemort, who worked to extract the secret of the Potters' hideout from him. Hope that clears things up- feel free to ask more questions via reviews or PM.