Loki woke Harry Potter after moonrise. The little boy yawned, stepping out of the room in his silk nightshirt; it was summer now, so he was not cold, even in the big manor house. Loki took his hand, and they walked up the stairs, a lot of twisting stone stairways, until they were outside, onto the top of a high tower, standing in a gentle wind.
Loki looked up at the sky, and the boy mimicked him, taking in the stars and the light of the full moon. Asgard had no moons, though the view from the bifrost was unparalleled, there was something beautiful in this too, if crude and unrefined. The child was quiet; he was a generally quiet boy, something the late hour did not meliorate. He was staring up at the sky curiously, not in any great wonder, except, perhaps, because he was looking too.
It was time to change that.
"You see that star?" Loki asked, pointing to the Andromeda, the star system two thousand sky-knots away from here, as Asgardians counted them. It was closer to Asgard, though not by much.
Harry nodded.
"That star is like the sun," Loki whispered. "Like many suns, in fact. In the center is a great burst of energy, energy greater than anything within you or I, and it is bursting with light. Can you do that, Harry? Can you make light, too?"
He looked down at the boy, where the golden net had sunken into him, one contiguous thread brimming with golden light, and a dark shadow in the center of the scar. Beneath it, the light of his magic, gathered at the center of his body the way it was with all the mortal wizards. He was untrained- there was no telltale path of magic towards the right hand, just a strong thread within, like an instrument to be plucked. Loki conjured a light, a derivative of the light of the sun but thousands of degrees dimmer, though it was still bright enough to light up the whole balcony, and held it out for Harry to take.
Harry reached out his fingers and withdrew another shining globe- smaller than the first, but separate, for light did not diminish, when it gave of itself.
"Good," Loki said. He closed Harry's hand and the light went out- both lights. "Now you try."
He watched Harry close his eyes and open his hand, breathing loudly and unevenly. The magic within him trembled a couple of times, but did not stir.
Loki frowned. His observations had shown that magic in Midgardians responded less to exact specifications and more to pure force of will (though both methods worked for both species, as when he had hurled his magic at the wards of Godric's Hollow). Strong desire was needed to pull the magic out of the core where it was buried in humans (as opposed to the easy second nature of using the magic gathered in one's fingers or wrists). There also was an intuitive element that seemed to come more easily to humans, if the presence of accidental magic was indicative. Nowhere on Asgard were there stories of magical outbursts; getting one's magic to conform to one's will was the result of training one's intuition and resonance so well that one could brute force it if necessary- it was the product of vast skill and training, not the other way around.
But Midgardians didn't have thousands of years to grasp the fundamentals of the universe; to learn to calculate quickly and easily the exact movement and duration of the spell, to memorize long series of calculations into workings that could be tweaked or adjusted at will. Something else- some other part of the brain, or some other brain did those calculations for them, or had done them already, and Midgardians were able to build off the knowledge to cast spells that they themselves were ignorant of. Loki still didn't understand it, but if that was the case, even a young wizard should be able to jump over some of the baseline understanding and cast a simple spell. He looked up expectantly.
Harry stood there concentrating, his face screwed up and fingers cupped tightly as if waiting for something to drop into them any second, but there was no response from the magic inside.
At last, Loki laughed, smoothing his hair.
"Perhaps not tonight, young one," he said. The books had also spoken of children straining their magic attempting tasks too great for them, and that was the last thing Loki wanted. Instead… he thought back to his own studies as a child, before he had been allowed to use magic very much at all. It was strange, when rubbing one's two fingers together was liable to create a spark, that the humans' magic was buried so deep inside.
"Perhaps we'll strengthen your willpower instead, then," he mused. When he and Thor were that age, they had been cast out into the wilderness for a month to learn independence. Perhaps something similar? But it seemed that wilderness survival skills did not carry much weight here as they did on Asgard. Something else, then…
Harry woke up the next day to the sun shining through the gap in the thick green curtains in his room in Uncle Loki's house. He crawled out of the blankets, feeling very warm and comfortable, and padded across the wooden floor on his bare feet to the big wooden bureau across his bed. He swung it open, looking up at all the clothing- robes and shirts and trousers in his size, in every color. He had asked Remus once why they couldn't just get clothes from Loki instead of going to the store and counting out all the money from the money pouch, and Remus had said that Loki was the Minister and that it wouldn't do to bother him over such things.
When he went to Loki's though he wore them because he didn't want to make Loki feel bad.
He went through the shirts, finding one that was bright green, like the shirt Loki wore, though that looked a little different 'cause it was armour. Then he went through the trousers, frowning. Most of them were black, and a couple of them were brown or blue, though there was a green and gold pair too, and a couple of skirts, even. At the very bottom of the pile was a pair of red corduroy trousers which he pulled out, grinning triumphantly. He got dressed all by himself, not even needing help with the buttons on the trousers (though he left the laces on his shoes undone), and clattered down the staircase at full speed. Even though Uncle Loki lived in a big ginormous house, he was all alone so Harry didn't have to worry about waking anybody up, so it was okay to run in the hallways. He ran all the way to the kitchen, pretending he was flying a broomstick, like his father the Quidditch Captain or like the British soldiers when they'd whipped the French soldiers arses (Ron had told him that, outside the range of Mrs. Weasley, and then when he'd repeated it to Remus, he'd looked very stern and told him there was a polite way to speak and that wasn't it). He kept running, racing so fast he almost skidded into Uncle Loki in the kitchen.
Uncle Loki was sitting at the counter with his legs crossed, looking amused.
"Um… did you get the breakfast yet, Uncle Loki?" Harry asked politely. Sometimes Uncle Loki had to get the food in the morning 'cause he didn't have any. Harry hadn't exactly believed him the first time he'd said that. He'd looked through all the cupboards and cabinets, but it was true- there wasn't anything there, not even a couple eggs or a half-open jar of jam. Which was weird because even when he and Remus went grocery shopping they had some food left, and Loki was Rich because he lived in a big house but he didn't have any.
Ron had told him this was probably because Loki was a vampire and didn't need to eat any food, just human blood, but Harry was skeptical of that notion, not least because he'd seen Loki go out in the sun. Remus said probably Loki didn't know how to cook.
"No," Loki said. "Unfortunately, I was too busy to pick up some food. I'm afraid it's down to you today, Mr. Potter."
Harry had never gotten groceries by himself before. But if Loki thought he could do it, then he was going to. He nodded quickly and turned around. -
"Harry?" Uncle Loki said, and he stopped at the threshold. Loki snapped his fingers and his shoelaces tied themselves.
"Thank you, Uncle." Harry said, opening up the door. As he opened the door to the outside, it lingered for an extra moment, and he thought he caught a glint of gold, but he blinked his eyes furiously and then it was gone.
He walked out onto the cobbled streets. There was a grocer's down the hill where he and Loki usually picked up the food, but as he got to the door he realized with dismay that he didn't have any money. It was very important to have money when you went into a store, Harry knew, because if you didn't pay the shopkeepers then it was stealing and they wouldn't be able to feed their little children.
He sat on the ground, thinking about it. He could go back and ask Loki for money, but perhaps Loki knew he didn't have any money and had sent him out anyway. Everyone always said Uncle Loki was very smart; Harry knew he wouldn't have forgotten something like that. Sometimes Loki did things like that.
There was food in Diagon Alley, and Hogsmeade, he thought. And… the Weasleys had food- perhaps he could floo there. But Remus wouldn't like it if he just went to the Weasleys and asked for food; he said they should never accept charity. Perhaps… he remembered him and Remus walking through a big marble building, full of strange people called goblins. The building was a bank, Harry knew, and there people could take out money for free.
Thus settled, he got up abruptly, spinning around and running back up the stairs and through the long hallways of the big house. He found a jar of green floo powder, sprinkled it in the fire (Remus never let Harry do this before, but Loki wouldn't mind), and said "Diagon Alley!"
He came out in the Leaky Cauldron- it was full of adults talking and drinking, loudly clinking glasses. They seemed very happy. A couple of people turned towards the fireplace, but nobody glanced down.
He walked into the back, where people were coming in and out of the big brick archway- he ran through quickly before it shut.
The street was much quieter than the pub. There was a great big hole where a building should've been, and a quiet sound kind of like someone crying, though when he looked around he didn't see anything. He stopped and stared, wondering how anyone could clean up such a mess. He crouched on the ground where a huge rock had fallen unevenly on top of a smooth stick- no, a wand. It was short. With a huge effort, he heaved the rock off the wand and cleaned it off, wondering if he could use it to do magic like Remus.
"Sad, 'int it?" a booming voice said behind him. He whirled, coming face to face with… a giant knee. He looked up, his eyes widening. It was a man- the most enormous man Harry had ever seen. He looked like he could pick a building off the ground and drop it himself.
"H- hello," Harry said, putting the wand in his pocket and raising his hand to shake. "How do you do?"
The giant bent down, extending one massive hand, and gently… very gently, grasping his to shake.
"Well hello," the giant said. "You're looking a mite small to be out here on your own."
"I'm getting breakfast," Harry said.
"Huh," he said. "Well, p'raps it's me getting things wrong. How old are you, Harry?"
"How do you know my name?" Harry asked, astonished.
"Well…" the giant looked uncomfortable now. "Everyone's heard of Harry Potter. Yer a bit famous, you know."
Harry shook his head.
"Well, I'm Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts," the man said. "I were friends with your father and his mates, back when they were at school. Good man, James. Such a shame…"
"Do you know my dad, Remus?" Harry asked.
"Sure I did," Hagrid said. "He were a quiet one, I think. Very studious."
"What about my uncle, Loki?"
"Er…" Hagrid said. "He didn'a go to Hogwarts, I don' think. Foreign-born or somethin', not that there's anything wrong with that. Here, I'm a little busy- gotta get the feather regrower back'ta Professor Dumbledore at the castle, but if you come with me, I'll make us some breakfast down at my place. Wha'd'ya say?"
"Er," Harry said. Remus had a very clear policy for going off with strangers, and the answer was no, not ever.
"...that's okay," he said. "Prap's another time. I've got to get back to… my dad."
"Is he nearby then?" Hagrid said, looking concerned.
"Yep- just around the corner!" Harry lied, running around the corner by Madam Malkins.
When he was sure he was safe, he sat down sadly. He was really starting to get hungry. Perhaps… he took the wand out of his pocket, swishing it wildly, willing for some eggs and sausage to appear. Nothing happened.
He peeked back around the store to see if the giant was still there, but he was gone. There were still those strange sobbing noises, and he followed them around the side of the building, all the way to the back, where he saw a pile of robes, or rather- a man with his knees pulled up to his head.
"Hello," he said uncertainly, reaching out a hand to touch the man's knee, "Hello, are you okay?"
The man's head rose and Harry saw a pair of big, silver eyes, slightly bloodshot. He had wild white hair, Harry saw now, beneath his cowl.
"Yes," the man said, "Yes, I'm fine. Just… thousands of years of wandcraft and lore, all lost to a petty international spat. Did you know, Mr. Potter, that there were wands here dating to the beginning of the Roman conquest?"
Harry blinked.
"Oh, for all the French moaned and cried about our unicorns and thestrals; there were wands in this collection rarer than even Godric's sword!"
"I found a wand over there," Harry said, giving him the one from his pocket. "Maybe we can find some more of them?"
The man peered at him, seeming to focus for the first time.
"Would you, Mr. Potter?" he said.
"Sure," Harry said. "Only… perhaps you could get us some breakfast as well?"
Privately, he thought the man could use the food himself. Mrs. Weasley would've said he needed fattening up.
"Yes," the silver-eyed man said thoughtfully. "Yes, I'll go get some food and you poke around. You have very good eyes, child, despite those spectacles of yours."
The wall on the back of the shop was a little higher than the front, and Harry had to climb a bit to get over it. He reached for a grip, accidentally touching some jagged glass, but when he looked at his hand it was fine so he kept going.
He scanned the debris, looking for another wand. There was one poking out from under a big pile of rocks. There were a couple that were just splinters, and one that made his heart hurt- it was broken into pieces and had a red feather poking out of it. He gathered up the pieces, putting them in his pocket for later.
Soon, the man got back and helped him.
"Summoning wands, you see, is a delicate task," he said. "Many of them are buried, and those would just bash themselves against the debris. A travesty!"
He looked considerably more cheerful now. The two of them sat on a part of the wall that the man had transfigured into smoothness, eating mutton sandwiches between two thick pieces of bread with mayonnaise while the man talked about one of the wands in his hand and how it was made by taking the wood out from under particularly grumpy bowtruckle and a feather from the finest augury in Sweden.
Harry found eighteen wands and was feeling very proud of himself. The man found eleven. At last, though, it was getting late. He went back to the Leaky Cauldron, ready to floo back, but then realized with dismay he'd used all his floo powder getting there.
Perhaps… perhaps if he waited here Loki would come to fetch him?
He sat down on a stool in the corner of the pub, kicking the wall. Why had Uncle Loki made him come all the way here? Now he was stuck without anyone and it could be hours before he got home.
He fidgeted. No one was coming. He had to go to the bathroom, so he went to the one in the back of the pub. He finished up and washed his hands. Then he went back and sat down in the stall, trying not to cry. It was a long day, he wanted his da. He wanted Uncle Loki. He wanted to go home.
Perhaps… he went outside, where the fireplace was. Perhaps if he took some of the floo powder from the flour-pot…
But no, that was stealing again.
He watched as a large man entered the flames, shouting an address. It took a couple of seconds for the fire to turn green afterwards. Perhaps if he just went in after, the green would last long enough…
Harry waited for the next person to shout the address, and he ran in after, shouting
"Godric's Hollow!"
He felt a warm sensation tickle his skin and then the fireplaces passed in an orange rush and he was getting hotter and hotter and then everything went black.
"That's quite enough," a dry voice said, as Harry blinked and his eyes fluttered open.
"Where... " he started to say, but his voice came out in a croak.
A cup was raised to his lips and he swallowed obediently, then coughed it up a moment later when he realized that it wasn't water at all, but a nasty tasting potion.
"Drink it," the voice said gravely, and he knew that he must listen to this voice. This time, he let the potion slide down his throat and sit there like a slimy thing. A moment later, his breaths were coming far less ragged and he could speak again.
The glass was raised to his lips again and this time, it did contain water.
"Well," Loki said, for it was, of course, him. "That was not quite what I intended when I meant that you should learn independence, Harry. Tell me, do you have a death wish?"
"What-" Harry said, twisting the sheets in shame. "What's that?"
"Do you want to die?" Loki said.
Harry looked down to his hands.
"No," he said. All the pride and triumph from earlier had disappeared into his stomach, leaving him feeling small and ashamed.
"Harry, children do not go to the backs of alleyways to talk to strange adults. They talk to them in a public place, where everyone can be seen, if necessary, and not at all if possible. They also do not run around touching broken glass, and they certainly do not throw themselves into a fire."
"But…" Harry said, torn between anger and tears. "But you said I had to get breakfast."
"So go to the grocery store and take some," Loki said. "Or, having made your way to the Leaky Cauldron, ask someone there to buy you some. Certainly no one would refuse the Boy-Who-Lived."
"But-" Harry wasn't sure what to say to that, other than that Remus wouldn't have liked it. But he wouldn't have liked Harry getting hurt either. "It's not fair!" he said, feeling tears welling up.
A hand touched his shoulder and he looked up again.
"It's never fair," Loki said. "You must never think that it will be, because there will always be people stronger and better than you. And when that happens, you must cheat. You must," he said, above Harry's shaking head, "because playing fairly is for people with advantages. Do you understand?"
Harry wasn't sure he did, but he nodded.
"Good," Loki said, sounding satisfied. "Then let us go down. I've had quite a scare, but you aren't half as badly off as you should be so we might as well take dinner. Don't be so sad; it was not a bad first effort. I shan't tell you what- what others did, or would have done in your place, but suffice it to say, it is good that you have all your limbs attached. And you did end up with something useful, in the end," he said.
He pulled out the wand Harry had found. It was scorched; the casing was in splinters, barely hanging on, but the feather had survived the heat completely.
Loki reached out and on the top of the feather appeared a golden cap, the gold spiralling into the base, and the cap attached to a leather cord. He tapped the feather again and it shrank down again until it looked like a red feather charm.
"Here," he said. "A phoenix feather. They have magical properties, or so I'm told. It'd be good to have one around."
Harry nodded, letting him clasp the necklace on. He was now thoroughly confused, but it seemed like things weren't so bad, after all. The weight of his charm felt significant, like he was carrying something within him now.
"I suggest you don't tell this story to your guardian," Loki was saying, opening the door. "He'll be less-than-impressed by your life preservation skills, and I think you've had enough scolding for the evening, don't you?"
"Yes," Harry agreed fervently. He touched the feather, feeling just the slightest tingling around his fingers, and then skipped down the hallway, trying to catch up with Loki for a very late lunch.
A/N: Whew, Harry pov at, erm, 18 chapters in? For the record, this was 15 in the nano. XD Thanks to Prevaricator's Penchant for her swift corrections in a sweeping time, to BlueJay and TheTzip for prereading, and to you for reading right now! Let me know your thoughts on this chapter- detailed feedback helps me improve as a writer!
-purpleread