It was a dreary morning in the Janus Thickey Ward. The light filtering in through the square window was watery and weak. Remus sat by the white hospital bed, nursing his aching joints, nose raw with the overwhelming scent of cleaning potions. Only little Harry hadn't caught the mood— he yelped excitedly, clambering onto the bed with all the force of his chubby legs.
"Pa-foot!" he shrieked. Remus watched. Sirius's black locks had been cropped short and his white robes were fresh and uncreased. His face… Remus turned to look but at the last moment glanced towards Harry instead, watching the sixteen-month old crawl onto the white robed chest.
A waxen hand reached out, clumsily patted the baby, and Remus absentmindedly smoothed Harry's hair. A picture rose into his mind, Sirius, lanky and tall, gray eyes flashing as he charged at Severus; sixteen year old Sirius covered from head to toe in orange goo, shaking out his hair with a barklike laugh; twelve year old Sirius crouching by the tree roots, pulling Remus back into the light…
For an instant, Remus's gaze skittered over his Sirius's face, the corner of a vacant smile, dull gray eyes. He looked away.
Albus walked down the little row in the light of the full moon, the nighttime breeze stirring his silver hair. Godric's Hollow had long ceased to be a welcome place for the Dumbledores, but if Albus noticed it, or minded, there was no sign, except, perhaps, a slight heaviness in his stride. He swiftly turned ahead.
Very little had changed since his youth, from the tudor houses to the cobbled streets. Only Loki's manor was new, though it did not look that way. With its high turrets and steep roofs, it seemed as though the house had stood there a thousand years, while the hollow sprung up around it.
To Albus's surprise, Loki opened the door himself. He glanced down the street, then back up at the headmaster, quirking an eyebrow.
"Albus. What a surprise," he said. "What brings you down from your castle?"
"I was hoping we could have a chat," Albus said carefully.
The young man was still gaunt and pale; only mildly healthier-looking than the day they'd first met. Albus was so proficient at Legilimency these days that it was hard not to see a bit of someone's surface emotions when he looked at their face, but Loki had always been harder to read. Even his first real attempt, the day he had hired the man, had returned a tangled blur and a sense of misery so deep that he had retracted instinctively, even before Loki had begun massaging his temples. Not knowing Loki very well, he'd resolved to give the man a place at Hogwarts and some space, and offered his aid against Voldemort. The man had quickly proven himself as a schoolteacher and an ally, and it was only now that Albus had begun to wonder if he had been too hasty in helping him along.
Loki showed him to a dark office with a slanting roof. Stacks of paper and open ink bottles lined the desk, remnants of some interrupted calculations. Harry's crib was beside it in a window alcove- it was Loki's night to watch.
Albus went there first, resting a hand on the baby's head as an excuse to perform a few silent, wandless diagnostic charms.
"Will you teach me those?" Loki asked.
"Perhaps," Albus said.
He brushed Harry's fringe away, checking for the scar the boy had borne during Loki's speech, but it was gone.
He turned back to Loki, who had returned to sitting in his office-chair, and had conjured a chair opposite for him.
"Is something wrong?" Loki asked, looking up at Albus with his fingers laced together.
For a moment, Albus had a vision of a black haired youth in his transfiguration classroom, looking up at him with dark eyes.
Is something wrong, Professor?
He banished the image from his head. There was no reason to compare Loki to Lord Voldemort, or even Tom Riddle. Still…
"You made quick work of Minister Bagnold."
"I did warn you," Loki said, lazily rotating his chair back and forth. "You could have stopped me, if you wished."
"You give me too much credit," Albus said.
Loki shrugged.
"Rumor has it that a new auror subdivision has been commissioned," Albus said.
"To track down the rest of the death eaters," Loki said.
"It's led by Lucius Malfoy."
"Takes one to know one," Loki said with a grin. "He spied for me," he said sounding more serious. "He had his trial."
"So did Severus Snape," Albus said.
"Yet somebody got his sentence commuted," Loki said. "A fine reward for slicing a hole in my chest. I still have the scars."
Albus glanced, instinctively, at Harry, but the baby was sleeping peacefully, his forehead smooth and unmarred. Loki had told him the story of the night, how he'd performed a blood ritual to complete Lily's work, crafting a shield that repelled the killing curse. He understood the need for secrecy surrounding the ritual and the prophecy. He'd understand it better if Loki hadn't seized upon the victory to launch his new regime.
"What is your interest in the Ministry?" he asked. "Pardon my temerity, but you're not British, or even quite… human."
"Pointed questions for a headmaster," Loki said. "Did you give Bagnold this inquisition when she took the post?"
"Minister Bagnold is not the subject of a new golden statue in the atrium," said Albus softly.
Loki laughed. "That? A mere bauble, for the people. I have to make an impression, after all."
"I would think you'd find a better one in a looking-glass," Albus said.
"Ah, but mirrors are liars," Loki said, flashing a smile.
"Especially," Albus said, "If a liar is looking."
Loki opened his hand, sending a fountain of sparkles past his unimpressed face. "Touché."
Albus watched the display, fingering his own wand.
What are you?
Whether Loki was part giant or veela or whatever other species existed out in the wizarding world was hardly his concern, but what manner of person he was? It bothered Albus that after all of the choices he had seen the man make, he still didn't know.
"How long have you planned for this?" he asked. "Since you came to Hogwarts? Before?"
Loki stood up, kicking the chair back. "Why are you asking me these pointless questions?" he asked. "What did you expect? You know I have the means to keep Harry safe. You know I do it now by deflecting attention towards my own role in Voldemort's defeat. You told me about the prophecy, so I can only assume that was your intention all along. So what is the problem? You fear I lust for power? I not brought the country crashing down yet; rest assured I'll do my best to maintain that streak in the future."
Albus frowned. What did he expect? His thoughts had been foremost on the current threat, and only then on Loki's ambitions. Even the thought that Loki intended to rise one day had been a distant eventuality. But he had risen, and quicker than Albus would have thought possible, taking full advantage of his (admittedly formidable) accomplishment. And yet...
"I do not think you have answered my question," Albus said. "Regarding your intentions for the post."
"Why do I want to be minister?" Loki asked, dropping back into his seat and looking Albus in the eye. "Perhaps it is for the same reason that a headmaster sits inside his castle and meddles with the lives of witches and wizards all over the country. Perhaps it is why he listens to prophecies kept in the most secret of ministry departments, and directs an army from the shadows." Loki's green gaze bored into his. "Tell me, Headmaster, why do you come now? Do you really fear what I might do as Minister? Or do you just miss having unfettered access to the field?"
For a moment, the only sounds in the room were the baby's soft breaths and the tapping on the window.
Albus leaned back into his chair, more perturbed than he would have liked to admit. He was hardly as selfish as the picture Loki had painted, but he had long been among the most powerful and wise, and (if he admitted it to himself) the driving force behind much of Wizarding Britain's political sphere since the wars. Could part of his uneasiness be pure pique that a schoolteacher had upstaged him?
Loki had turned away from Albus; he was looking towards the crib, his brow creased. It struck Albus that the man was not so old as his talents and position would suggest him to be; in this light he looked young; hardly older than some of his recent graduates. He was... troubling, with his grandiose gestures and unconcealed ambition; Albus would be watching him closely now that he knew what the man was capable of. But following Loki's gaze to Harry Potter, sleeping safe inside his crib, a part of Albus wondered what might've become of Tom, had he treated him more kindly at the beginning.
"I apologize," he said gravely. "When you reach my age, you tend to see certain patterns; to the detriment, perhaps, of people."
"You could do well at the ministry, you know," Loki said. "You need not content yourself reigning over schoolchildren."
Albus chuckled.
Loki looked as if he had more to say on the matter, but he fell silent, giving Albus an even nod. Then he walked over to the crib, looking out the window beyond.
"There's another eclipse," he noted.
Albus walked over to the window, resting his hands on the carven wood crib and glancing up at the skies.
"So there is," he said, adjusting his spectacles to watch the moon fall into shadow. "What does it mean, I wonder."
Eventually, the visiting hour passed and Remus scooped Harry up, smoothing over the sheets. He nodding to the nurse, opened the door, and almost bumped right into Lucius Malfoy.
"Watch it!" the blond man said, jumping backwards as if he'd been burned. "Ahem, I mean, excuse me."
"Are you alright?" said a gracious voice. Narcissa put a light hand on her husband's arm before fixing Lupin with an only slightly strained smile.
"What are you doing here?" Remus asked; the question coming out harsher than he'd intended. He winced internally- he was always a little snappier after a full moon.
"I came to visit Sirius," Narcissa said. "He was my cousin, you know."
Remus stared at her. In all their years at Hogwarts, he'd seen Narcissa acknowledge Sirius perhaps twice.
"We made a thousand gallon donation to the hospital in his honor," Lucius added, in a tone that suggested that Remus should be shelling out similar amounts, if he could afford so much as a silver cufflink.
"Well, don't let me get in your way," Remus said, turning to go before he said something he'd regret.
"Is that little Harry?" Narcissa asked, stopping his retreat.
Remus mustered a polite smile. "Yes."
"Isn't he just adorable," Narcissa cooed. Lucius rolled his eyes.
"We have one his age, you know," Narcissa continued. "We'd be happy to set something up."
"Set... what up?" Remus asked, utterly bemused.
"A playdate! Wouldn't that be sweet, Lucius?"
"I suppose," Lucius said, glancing down the hall. He seemed to have trouble looking at Remus's face.
"Thank you, but no," Remus said.
"But…"
"Sorry; one and a half's a bit too young for a date with death eaters, don't you think?" Remus said.
He made from the stairs, passing by Lucius's annoyed expression and Narcissa's affronted one on his way out.
"Accio parchment."
Loki lay on his bed the night after Dumbledore's visit, white wand in a loose grip and a spellbook propped against his knees. As he spoke, magic threaded into his wand from his heart and brought the parchment flying into his hands.
"Aguamenti," he said. Water failed to erupt from his wand. The book rested almost exactly on the long scar across his chest, glistening with rich, dark magic. As he turned the page, a couple of sparks shook loose, skittering across his chest and sinking into the scar.
"Avis," he said, watching the magic thread from the center of his chest all the way into his wand. Green birds burst from the wand tip.
"Reducto, Incendio, Expulso," he said, and two streaks of light left two explosions of green feathers. The third bird fluttered away, cheeping hysterically.
"Why?" Loki asked irritably, vanishing the feathers the true way. Most of the time he could use Midgardian magic nowadays, but there were some spells that he could absolutely not work. He was doing it right— he was sure of it. He could see when the magic fed through to his wand and when, inexplicably, it did not.
But the reason for it remained elusive. He swung his legs off the bed and pocketed the wand, annoyed. He still thought Asgardian spells were superior to the wizarding kind. The Midgardian ones were too simple— blockable, once he exploited their flaws. And casting them made his chest feel... strange. On the other hand, he couldn't deny their convenience.
A pulse came through the wards and Loki felt a tug in one of his tracking spells. It was Lucius.
He swung down from the bed, stopping by the mirror to vanish over the scar and button up his shirt.
"Is it true you're signing off on a mudblood scholarship fund?" Lucius asked when he opened the door.
"Hello, Lucius," Loki said. "How're the wife and kids?"
"Draco's fine, no thanks to your nursemaid," Lucius said, seating himself in the chair Dumbledore had taken last night. "Well, is it?"
"It is," Loki said.
"Why would you…" Lucius trailed off, as the air grew noticeably colder and the normally invisible glyph on his palm darkened.
"Pardon?" Loki asked, a dangerous glint in his eye.
Lucius looked down.
"My Lord," he said, "Why would you do such a thing?"
"Why shouldn't I?" Loki asked.
Lucius stared at him.
"Because Muggleborns are scum!" he said. "They're the bane of our traditions; our culture!"
Loki shrugged.
"Believe what you like," he said. "And use your position as you see fit. But remember, I am the one who keeps you there."
Lucius fell silent. Loki could almost see the wheels in his brain turning, trying to figure out why he was turning soft. Perhaps he would make the connection to Dumbledore, more likely not. It hardly mattered to Loki, so long as he stayed loyal.
But Dumbledore, as he was just coming to realize, was a force of his own. Snape's changed sentence, the secret order within his auror force- he'd hardly have bothered to conquer the ministry at all if he'd known it was just going to be a proxy for Hogwarts. He wanted the headmaster in his control; either in his direct chain of command as a bureaucrat or at least as a manipulable ally.
"Do you have the information?" he asked at last.
"Yes," Lucius said, paging through a file. "There are about 10,000 wizards of combat age in all of Britain, though not since the days of Merlin has there been-"
"That's it?" Loki asked, taking the file from him. He was surprised.
"It's larger than anyone accounted for," Lucius said. "Even during the days of the war, it never got beyond several hundred on either side."
"Can we use the muggles for something?" Loki asked. "There are always plenty of those."
Lucius gave him a look that suggested he was quite insane.
"Fine," Loki said. "What's this?"
There were a couple of rows above Great Britain; Russia, then Germany...
"Oh, it has all of Europe," Lucius said.
Loki put the file away in his desk, crossing his legs and pondering how much credit he would need with Dumbledore before the man would let him invade France.
A/N: Well, here's chapter 9, guys! Sorry for the delay. RL got busy there for a bit. Credit goes out to my beta, Prevaricator's Penchant, and TheTzip for their helpful edits!
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