The summer sun left dappled shadows of the beech trees that dotted Ottery St. Catchpole. Remus sat on a chair in the back garden, taking tea with Mrs. Weasley and watching Harry and the youngest children chasing gnomes around the yard. Or maybe not just gnomes - Remus saw Harry change directions in a flash, tapping Ginny, then dodge past Ron as she shrieked and ran towards them.
"You're it!"
"How old is Ginny now?" Remus asked, as Ron's face turned red and he paused, evaluating who was the easier capture.
"Almost nine!" Mrs. Weasley said cheerfully. "Just a year behind Ron and Harry."
"Merlin," Remus said, rubbing his forehead. Where had all the time gone? He still had the image of Bill and Charlie as young Hogwarts students, the twins mischievous six-year-olds, and Percy as the big kid carrying baby Ginny around. Now Harry and Ron were "big kids," almost old enough to go to Hogwarts, and even the baby Weasley wasn't far behind.
"They grow up fast, don't they?" Mrs. Weasley said, shaking her head. "Just when you think they'll be kids forever, they sneak up on you like that."
"I know," Remus muttered, but he was watching Harry, who smiled as he tapped Ginny on the head again. He seemed alright, mostly, after the events at the end of the year. But he seemed a little quieter, more subdued.
Remus had tried to talk to him about the attack, to get him to open up more about how he was feeling, but Harry had shut him down. When he did bring it up (infrequently, and usually with no apparent lead-in), it seemed like the obliviation was the thing that upset him most, rather than the break in and near-control of the muggle school. Harry had always been like that, though - Remus well remembered how calm the kid had been that day that Diagon Alley had blown apart.
"Anything from the kitchen?" Mrs. Weasley asked, standing up. "I'm going to check on the twins."
"Go ahead," Remus said. It was oddly quiet for the Burrow, come to think of it. He'd seen the results of explosions from the rooms of the soon-to-be second-year Hogwarts students; those at least were predictable.
A moment later, a shrill shout came from one of the upper floors.
"Of all the LUNKHEADED THINGS-"
"I'm TRYING TO WORK, Mum!"
Remus sat back, enjoying the afternoon sunlight warming his skin and the absence of aches in his bones. The Wolfsbane potion was more than he could've dreamed of a year ago; he wished it had existed when he was a kid, when the dread of the agony of transformation warred with terror that he would somehow get free and hurt someone he loved. Loki, through Belby, ensured he had continuous access to the potion. This was one form of charity he'd gladly take. If a tiny part of the result of Loki turning Wizarding Britain into some kind of empire was going back to be the prevention of lycanthropy, well, that was a part Remus could accept.
Ron made a grab for Harry, who danced out of the way, laughing, until he tripped on a tree trunk and Ron awkwardly caught him.
"You're it," he said with a grin.
"They've certainly aged," a voice said beside him, and in the seat where Mrs. Weasley's tea sat cooling materialized a dark figure with a white grin.
Think of the devil, Remus thought.
"Last time I came here, the girl was first learning to curse from the twins," his conversation partner said pleasantly. He picked up the tea. "Amusing children."
"Funny," Remus said.
"Pardon?"
"Kids can be funny," Remus said. "They have their own agency; they're not things." Though why he was explaining this to someone who seemed to have the moral capacity to care about approximately one person in the world, he didn't know. Maybe something would rub off.
"Funny children, then," Loki said, looking amused. He took a sip of tea.
"Are you here to see Harry?" Remus asked. "We planned to stay the afternoon."
Remus thought he saw Loki's smile waver for a moment.
"No," he said. "Not right now."
It was strange; he would almost say Loki was avoiding the child, but Harry also seemed, at the very least, unenthusiastic. He'd canceled his magic lessons and generally seemed to have a lack of interest in anything Loki-related at the moment.
Part of Remus hoped Loki would just drift away. The other part remembered the way Harry grinned when he saw his godfather step through the door, the marvels this strange, not-entirely-human wizard had brought into their world.
"He doesn't want to talk about it," Remus said. "Has bad dreams. Most of the time he seems happy but every so often he'll just be… somber, I suppose."
He was gratified to see Loki flinch a bit at that.
Out in the field the game seemed to have devolved from playing tag while pretending to chase gnomes to an ingenuous race. None of them had so much as glanced at Loki, and Remus suspected the man had made himself visible only to him.
"There's something else new," Remus admitted, looking back to Loki. "He's been starting questions and cutting himself off. Self-censoring, I guess."
Dumbledore had assured him this was a normal reaction. "We often don't think about the impact of an obliviation on a close friend," he'd said after withdrawing from his conversation with Harry. "But think about it from his perspective. The knowledge he shared triggered a terrible betrayal; one in which he is, of course, blameless. It would be only natural to speak more carefully afterwards, at least for a while."
Loki had a different reaction. "He's growing up," he said, shrugging. He drained the tea, setting it down. "Learning to cultivate his words. A good skill to build."
He stood up.
"Thank you for the tea," he said, nodding, and vanished.
A few moments later, Harry and the two Weasleys ran up to the table.
"Who was faster?"
"Did you see?"
Harry glanced around the table.
"Did Loki come by?" he said, glancing at the empty teacup.
"His apparition did, at least," Remus said. "Did you see him?"
"No," Harry said, rubbing his forehead. "Just thought I sensed something." He looked tired.
Remus stood up just as Mrs. Weasley bustled back out of the house.
"Well, sorry about that," she said. "Just had to sort a few things out. Fred and George will be on degnoming duty next week, by the way," she said to the children. "And every week from now until they go back to Hogwarts, if they're lucky. Did someone drink my tea?"
"We'd better get going," Remus said, taking that as his cue. "Same time tomorrow?"
"Any time, any time!" Mrs. Weasley said distractedly. "You know we're always happy to have Harry!"
"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, giving her a hug, then Ron and Ginny too. "See you tomorrow!"
"We'd better!" Ron said. "And next time we're starting you ten feet behind!"
Harry grinned and stuck out his tongue, and Remus took his hand to go home.
Harry spent the beginning of his summer vacation running around outside with the Weasleys, enjoying Remus's waffles (which he seemed to be making more often these days, despite tutting over the lack of nutrition), and generally avoiding so much as a hint of schoolwork.
Remus had preened over his exam results when they had come a week or two in, and even Loki had sent a letter congratulating him, or rather made one appear on his bedside table one morning. Jemma had sent letters too, asking him how his summer was going and how he'd done in school. She'd even made reference to the "lockdown drill" that the obliviators had used to justify the events of the end of the term, if only in passing. Harry had left his scribbled response on the table, unable to think of a good reply.
Seeing Loki made him think about the whole thing until he got angry again. Perhaps his godfather realized this, because he hadn't shown his face lately; in fact, it was almost a month before he showed up at the cottage again, knocking on the door early on the first summer full moon, an hour after Remus had left for work.
"Do you have any time?" he asked, standing outside the door. He was wearing a black muggle suit, like a funeral-goer.
"Yes," Harry said, though he thought Loki might have already known that. "Where are we going?"
"Come and see," Loki said with a grin.
Harry took his hand, and the quiet cottage and the grounds around it were whisked away, replaced by a bustling street. Cars zoomed by. Tall buildings filled the horizon, stone and steel. Harry glanced around, taking in the clock tower, the giant Ferris wheel. They were in muggle London, a place he'd been around but never visited properly. He'd heard about it at school, too; kids went shopping in London or went to the Eye or to see the Tower or a play.
"So where are we going?" Harry asked, glancing around. A neon green Pharmacy sign left afterimages in his vision when he turned about.
"Where do you want to go?" Loki asked. As Harry processed this, he added, "But first, to lunch."
Loki led them down the streets as Harry took in the sights and sounds of the center of muggle London. It wasn't as bright or vibrant as Diagon Alley, but he saw signs for the famous London Underground (or "Tube", as Harry knew it was called); tourists swarming in and out of the tunnel entrance; a man on the ground begging for change (Loki pulled him past as he slowed down); tiny stores selling bicycles, half plastered-over by papers; giant stores with glass displays from floor to ceiling; and billboards taller than houses. And throughout it all, electric lights, electronic billboards, digital watches, neon signs and muggle people all around.
And it stretched on for a while. Harry had never thought of Diagon Alley as being small, but he did now. Magical and wonderful and filled with little byways and nooks and places found only through patient exploration, but muggle London seemed endless by comparison.
As he stepped down little alleyways and across wide asphalt streets, wondering why Loki had led them so far from their destination, Harry noticed something else. There were little flashes out of the corner of his eye, something he couldn't quite catch when he turned back. The second time he did this, Loki murmured, "Don't look at them. They'll realize you've caught on."
Harry tensed.
"Assassins again?" he said.
"Worse," Loki said. "It's my security detail. Much harder to lose by far."
The long, winding path they were making suddenly made sense. Loki turned down the corner and into another busy, tourist-filled intersection. They turned into a castle-like department store, and Loki made a big show of perusing each rack of almost-identical suits one by one as Harry yawned.
All at once, Loki pulled him behind a column. Harry blinked. Across from them, he could see himself and Loki examining the shelves.
The real Loki walked up to a family of posh mannequins in charming sailor outfits and tapped one of them. His dark suit appeared on the mannequin, while he took the sailor dad's clothing. He tapped one of the kids next, and Harry's practical tee shirt and jeans were replaced with a white shirt and blue-striped breeches. He even had the cap.
Harry glanced into the mirrors and saw that Loki had morphed their features too - he was a tanned, graying man with wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and a cane like Lucius Malfoy's. Harry was a rounder boy with blond hair. He thought he resembled a slimmer Dudley Dursley, whom he and Remus reluctantly visited every few years in the name of "reconnecting with family."
"Right then," Loki said. It was odd to hear his voice from such a different-looking body. "Let's go."
The restaurant Loki had in mind was just a few blocks away. He and Loki - or the Sailor family, as Harry was terming them in his head - walked down the street without attracting any more notice. Or rather, there were plenty of glances, but no sign of their wizarding followers, and even most of the muggles seemed pretty unfazed. After their walk through the city this morning, Harry understood why - there were plenty of oddly-dressed people in London to go around. He thought even proper wizarding robes might not draw too much attention.
The restaurant was unassuming from the outside, but inside it was warmly lit and well-attended. The waiter took them right to their table, and to Harry's surprise, there was already someone sitting at it.
The man at the table had russet hair, freckled skin, blue eyes and a beaming smile. He was wearing a blue suit and seemed, to Harry's critical eye, to be an actual muggle.
"Welcome, Minister. Welcome," he said, flashing a beaming grin as they sat down. He took orders from the waitress for the three of them while Loki leaned back, looking faintly satisfied.
"It's been a while," he said as Harry tried to figure out his dish. It was like some kind of splatterpaint art with bits of fish inside, and he was a little worried about getting it on his shirt.
"No need to come before," Loki said.
The man's hundred-watt smile dimmed a bit. It rose again a moment later. "But you see now."
Loki nodded, digging into his seafood.
"This would be young Harry, I presume?" The man looked at Harry curiously. Harry looked back. He was used to attention, but not from muggles.
"Do not be too familiar with his name," Loki warned. "You don't know him."
Harry moved to ask the man who he was, but Loki shook his head. Later.
Harry watched as the smiling couple across the room took their meals - he thought they might've been from a muggle magazine Jemma'd shown him. He twisted his fork around his plate, ruining the sauce design, as Loki asked polite questions about muggle affairs.
"More wine?"
"Yes please."
Harry watched the man, wondering how Loki had gotten to know him. He seemed comfortable, even eager to talk about what he'd been doing over the past few years. He kept talking about Conservatives, Tories, resignations, and a whole lot of other words that Harry only vaguely recalled from their political science class.
"-short, I think I'll be able to do it by next September," the man said, sitting back. Over the course of the meal he'd offered both a lot of dishes and wine - he seemed quite well-off, and proud of it.
"Excellent," Loki said, as Harry reached for his napkin and ended up upsetting Loki's wineglass. He blinked, catching it quickly, but some liquid splashed over the tablecloth.
"Nice catch," the man complimented him. Loki took out his wand to dispel the spilled wine.
Harry froze, watching as the stain disappeared. He glanced across the table, but the man in front of them seemed just as transfixed.
"Ah, magic…" he said with a little sigh. "To see someone perform it again."
"You're in withdrawal," Loki said.
"Are you sure I couldn't… go visit Diagon Alley, just once?"
Loki gave him a long look.
"Right, right," the man said. "Well, that's why I have my plan."
"You asked for greatness," Loki murmured, so low Harry almost missed it.
Out loud, he added, "I'll send you some more potions." The redhead nodded, looking relieved.
"Shall we get the check?"
By the time the waitress came around, the man's good cheer seemed to have returned, and he signed the bill with an elaborate flourish.
Loki stood up, rolling his eyes, as the man waved and called, "Do remember me, Harry!"
"Who was that?" Harry asked, when they had gotten back out the door.
"That," Loki said, "is a gesture of good faith." He glanced around, shading his eyes. "So. Have you worked out what you wanted to do in London?"
"Are you distracting me?" Harry asked.
Loki smiled, the expression bright and somehow healthier-looking on a different face. "Only a little bit," he said. "The trouble is that even the mind is untrustworthy when there are wizards about."
"You're saying people can read my mind?" Harry said, and Loki nodded. He seemed to have decided on a direction and was taking them down the road.
That kind of made sense to Harry; someone had to be able to figure out which memories to take from his friends' minds. The thought of that curdled in him again and he scowled.
"Can you do it?" he asked. Loki tilted his head.
"I can, in a way," he said. "But my method is rather… forceful. I'm not a Legilimens, as your people would term it."
"Oh," Harry said. "Okay."
Loki ruffled his hair.
"You will learn," he said. "Now, let's see about this Eye…"
In the end, they rode the famous London Ferris wheel four times, Harry pointing out landmarks he'd heard about from school. They'd visited the London Bridge, ducked into the London Tower (which was huge, far bigger than Harry had expected from the pictures) and spoken to the tower ghosts. Apparently some of the gruesome murders had occurred during England's witch hunts, and Lady Catherine was secretly a witch herself.
They finished the day with a showing of Macbeth at the Globe Theater. Harry frowned when the actors stepped out and the play began. He could see the edges of the set and the makeup on the actors' faces, but somehow, once they began he was drawn into the story, and two hours flew by in a blink.
"It was like magic," he said when they left the theater.
Loki also seemed oddly quiet, almost overcome. Magic was right, exactly. It was all muggle technology; he'd seen it, but it had the same feeling of magic, the same all-encompassingness and allure.
"That was indeed a bard worthy of gods," Loki said, looking up towards the stars.
He refocused a moment later.
"We should get you home."
They apparated back to Godric's Hollow and Loki returned their forms and clothing to normal. Harry wondered if the sailor clothes had gone back on the mannequins, and if the wizards following them had given up or if they were still following the fake Harry and Loki around muggle London. He hoped they wouldn't get in too much trouble; knowing Loki, this had been a test for them as well.
Harry made for his bedroom at the end of the hallway, changing into his nightclothes and taking out the toothbrush he left there for full moons.
He got under the covers. He heard Loki rise from the office across the hall, saw the thin beam of light on the wall as his godfather cracked the door.
Loki entered and stood beside his bed, smoothing his blankets.
The full moon shone brightly through the window. Harry turned toward it. Wolf moon, crowned by stars that seemed small and close but were really very large and very far away.
"It was sad, though," he said.
"Hm?" Loki said. He was standing and watching the stars too, a look in his eyes that Harry couldn't read.
"Macbeth," Harry said after a moment. Maybe a moment; he thought he might have drifted off. "He could've been good."
Loki raised a hand, paused, then shook his head.
"He could have," he agreed.
Harry thought about saying something else, but sleep seemed nicer, so he let his eyes close, and dreamt of gods and kings.