To say that people didn't notice the tall, leather-clad man shimmying through the crowds of workers at the Ministry of Magic would be an understatement. Everywhere Loki went, inquisitive heads turned to get a better look at him. Hundreds of pairs of eyes were fixed on him, in an intense stare. A few years ago, it would have bothered him, would have made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Now, though, he was above that childish discomfort. He was the king of Asgard, for crying out loud. Having hundreds of people stare at him was a requirement of the job.
It was strange to be back on Midgard, to say in the least. Four years ago, he spent three months with Hermione Granger, and those months were still the best of his life. He had meant to see her sooner, but unfortunately, life got in the way. The second he had an opportunity to return, he took it, no matter how puzzled Heimdall was at 'Odin' wanting to travel to Midgard.
And here he was, standing in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic, a place Hermione talked about so often. Not all of her talk was in a positive light, though. Most of it was about how frustrated she was with the bigotry that crept through with every word and every action people did. Even now, he could see it, the disdain for anyone even the slightest bit different. For while stares followed him, there were also disgusted sneers, and whispers about what business he had here. Like he was an enigma waiting to be solved.
All in all, the lavish, rich atrium was only a shield for snide disdain and prejudice, not that Loki was any stranger to that.
A small crowd was gathering on one of the walls. They seemed to be surrounding a plaque and placing down flowers of some sort that Loki couldn't identify. His best guess was that it was a memorial for someone who was no longer alive. There were multitudes of those on Asgard. All throughout their lives, Thor and Loki were forced to honour the graves of those who had fallen and travelled to Valhalla. To say that he was sick of memorials was an understatement.
Still, something about it intrigued him. Maybe just a glance, and then he would continue his quest for Hermione. The only reason he was here was because her apartment was empty, most of the furniture, including his favourite chair, gone. It was also covered in a large amount of dust, which seemed strange, but he put it out of his mind. There was always that large possibility that she'd moved to another apartment or flat. In fact, it was a very plausible possibility.
He made his way over to the memorial, the crowd splitting to let him through. A smirk decorated his face, his usual expression now, as these pitiful people moved. They knew that he was of higher authority just from the way he held himself. Finally, people were getting the message that he was, quite simply, better than th―
All of his vain thoughts were cut off in an instant when he saw the face engraved into the plaque and the name resting beneath it. No. No, this couldn't be happening. She had to be here. She couldn't be dead. She was Hermione. Hermione couldn't just be gone.
Mind whirling, he grabbed the collar of one of the people surrounding the memorial. He dragged her up off the ground, pulling her right up close to his face. Her feet flailed above the ground and she cried out in protest, a terrified, pitiful sound.
Pathetic.
"What happened to her?" he demanded. "What happened to Hermione?" He sneered at her and held her even closer to his face. He could see the fear in the way her eyes crinkled, the way her breath was coming faster than normal and the way she made small keening noises. "TELL ME NOW!" He violently shook her.
"Hey!" came a strong, male voice. "Put her down." Loki turned around to see a large man striding towards him, wand clutched in his hand. He opened his hands and let the woman drop to the floor; she landed in an undignified pile of sniveling robes, before scampering off.
"And who are you?" asked Loki, voice low and dangerous. "Are you here to tell me where Hermione is?" He took a step towards the man, who was more wide than he was tall. "If you lie, I swear I will gut you right here." To show that he wasn't joking, Loki let his dagger fall out of his sleeve and into his hand, twirling it around with a grace that came only with years of practice.
"My name is Atlas Valerius. I'm in charge here. I can't have you barging in here and assaulting my employees."
"That isn't what I asked about," hissed Loki. He took a step closer to Valerius, who didn't back down.
"No, I know that. You asked about Hermione Granger, and I will tell you about what happened to her. Why don't you come to my office and we can discuss it over a nice cup of tea. How about that?" Loki fixed a venomous glare on Valerius, but put his dagger away. Valerius relaxed slightly, gesturing for Loki to follow him. He did so very reluctantly, as the man practically oozed secrecy.
"This better not be a waste of my time. If you are lying, I will not hesitate to kill you."
"And I don't doubt it." Valerius led Loki into an empty elevator, pulling the rattling doors across. The sound reminded Loki of when Hermione was in St Mungo's, waiting for Hermione to wake up after she overused her magic.
They rode the elevator in silence, exchanging nothing but the air they breathed. Once the door dinged and a cool female voice said, "Welcome to the Admin Floor. I hope you enjoyed your ride."
"Thank you, we did," said Valerius jovially, shredding through Loki's already paper thin patience. He ground his teeth in annoyance. This man better tell him what happened to Hermione, or so help him, he would turn be skewered beyond recognition. Quite like that Coulson man. In fact, it would be worse.
They approached a lavish red door with a large golden plaque bearing Valerius' name in large, bold letters. Valerius opened it with what he obviously though was a magnificent flourish. Reluctantly, Loki stepped inside the ridiculously decorated office, clearly designed to show off his power and importance. Several certificates hung proudly on the wall, and a medal was levitating just above his desk, slowly rotating, making sure it was seen at all angles. A large window was behind the desk, letting in fake light. And the desk itself was a garish affair, all red wood and intricate golden trim. It matched the vain man now sitting in the imposing leather chair perfectly.
To make a long story short, the entire office was an eyesore, a sordid affair that Loki would hasten to leave the second this vital conversation was over.
"Please, sit down," said Valerius, flicking his wand at the door, which gently clicked closed. The second it did, his entire demeanor dramatically changed, from cheery to deadly, the visage of what would usually be a predator. Unluckily for him, Loki was in the room, and he was the alpha in this situation.
"Now tell me," hissed Loki, standing from his seat. "Where. Is. Hermione."
"Are you sure you know what you're getting yourself into, asking those questions?"
"I am very sure, little man." He leaned forward, fingers splayed over the desk. "Now think very carefully about your answer. One wrong word and you will be pardoned from life."
"Now, I think we both know that you don't mean that," chuckled Valerius, clearly thinking that he had the upper hand here. "These are all empty threats, threats that will get you into deep trouble. You're young, you have a life to lead. Why don't you leave those questions up in the air and leave before you find yourself in something you don't understand, little man."
In an instant, Loki was standing behind Valerius, daggers pressed against his throat. "Tell me," he growled. "What happened to Hermione. If you don't, you'll be dead before you hit the floor. So why don't you make the wise decision and give me the answer to my question, hmmm?"
"Alright," said Valerius, fear seeping into his voice. "Three years ago, she went missing and has yet to return. No one has heard anything, so two weeks ago she was officially declared dead. I was pushing to have it done earlier, but there were so many protests."
"And do you have any idea about how she went missing?"
"Nothing."
"Liar." The daggers pressed harder into Valerius' throat, little rivulets beginning to creep down his neck. "Tell me the truth."
"That is classified information," Valerius fretted. "You aren't privy to it." His only answer was two daggers digging even further into his neck. Frantically, he gulped before giving in. "Alright, I'll tell you." Loki didn't move the daggers, only lightened the pressure slightly. There was nothing that got cowards talking like the smell of their death lurking on the ever darkening horizon.
"And don't leave a single detail out."
"She was working in the Department of Mysteries, on a portal. I think she was trying to find a way to a place called Asgard, something like that. I wasn't there, but I think she was getting close to a breakthrough. The portal was going to the wrong planet. It probably malfunctioned and sucked her through to whatever planet it was currently sitting on. The portal broke and no one has been able to fix it since." He sucked in a great breath. "Is that what you wanted?"
Loki's arms slackened at the news, a strange buzzing inside his mind. Hermione couldn't be gone. This pathetic little man had to be lying, there was no other conclusion. Add in the fact that he was sweating, most likely from hiding something, and Loki wasn't convinced. Not in the slightest.
"Why don't you tell me the truth. You have one chance, you sniveling mortal, before I tear you and your 'oh so precious' reputation to literal shreds."
"That is the truth." Valerius sighed. "Look, if you want to hear another story, go ask some other people. I'm sure that you will get the tall tales you seem so desperate to hear. You should have around ten minutes, before the Aurors catch up to you and arrest you for threatening my life." Valerius smirked leaning back in his chair and plonking his feet down on the table. He thought he'd won. "I told you that you were in over your head, little boy."
Loki didn't respond, merely turning to exit the office. There was nothing more he could get out of this literal human snail unless he resorted to more extreme, violent measures. The mere thought of Hermione even knowing that he did that stopped him in his tracks, though. He didn't want that. So, he would leave the man with a small parting gift, one that would haunt him forever.
Everywhere he looked, out of the corner of his eyes, he would see a person standing in the corner that only he could see, whispering taunting words that only he could hear. That person would be Hermione, acting as she always did. Surely, it would be enough to drive the idiotic man to insanity and tear his life apart piece by piece.
Subtly, Loki cast the spell, making sure that the usual green light of his magic was concealed. He shot it towards the man, who breathed deeply, clicking his fingers. Smirking, Loki opened the door, intent on making his way down to the Department of Mysteries. Perhaps he would be able to find more information on Hermione's disappearance down there. He wasn't just going to let his best friend, his only friend, his first true friend, disappear like that. He was one of the best magic users in the nine realms. If this Valerius man thought that he could stop him just like that, he was sorely mistaken.
Very sorely mistaken.
Just as Loki was leaving the office, he heard the fated words, muttered under Valerius' breath. "If you ask me, it's good riddance with her." Usually, no one would be able to hear them, standing as far away as Loki was. Loki, though, was an Asgardian, and his hearing was far more able than that of mortals, a fact he was ever proud of.
Spinning on his heels, Loki summoned a dagger and threw it towards Valerius with immense speed. The shining silver blade whistled through the air, embedding itself in the shoulder of the Minister of Magic, who cried out in anguish.
"What in Merlin's name was that for?" he groaned, gripping the handle of the dagger and pulling it out. Once it was yanked out, blood began spurting all over the office. With a flick of his fingers, Loki summoned it back to him, murder blazing in his eyes. Valerius was lucky that he was only stabbed in the shoulder. Had he been aiming better, the knife would likely have been deep inside his gut.
"Hermione is never good riddance. Understand?"
"Who are you?" asked Valerius, pain colouring his already croaky voice. His hand was clutching his shoulder, doing an abysmal job at stemming the blood flow.
"Loki Odinson. Prince of Asgard."
And with that, he swung out of the office, leaving the blubbering man in his now bloody chair to his own pathetic business.
He had a new priority, and that priority was Hermione. He would search every corner of the Nine Realms until he found her, and if anyone hurt her...may Odin have mercy upon their already damned soul.
Harry Potter heard a sharp, smart rapping on the door of his house. He frowned, slightly pertubed. It was quite late at night and he had no friends coming to visit him. Who could it be? Putting down his blueprints for the latest broomstick, he cautiously walked over to the door and pried the eyehole open. To his surprise, he saw a vaguely familiar face. His name was...Loki, right? And he'd fought with them in the battle the practically ended the Gardeners.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, still not letting Loki in. If it even was Loki. It still wasn't uncommon, even fifteen years after the war ended, for Voldemort sympathisers to turn up at his door disguised as someone close to him. "And why have you come so late?"
"I need to talk to you about Hermione," Loki said, desperation bleeding into his voice. To Harry, it sounded like Loki didn't want that desperation to be there, but was unable to help it. "Please, let me in. No one else has been any help."
"You want to find her?"
"Desperately."
That was all it took. Harry unlocked the door and let Loki in, with his strange clothes and superior demeanor.
"Please, sit down." Harry gestured to his large lounge space, where people were often situated when he had them over. Loki sat down in a green armchair, maintaining regal posture, even though hus fingers thrummed up and down on the arms of the chair. He seemed happy to be in it, though Harry couldn't even begin to fathom why. "Is there something special about that chair?"
"Yes, there is." Loki smiled slightly, like he was being engulfed in a memory. "When I was living with Hermione, I took a liking to a particular chair of hers. I would always sit in it, which annoyed her, as it was her favourite chair. Eventually, she gave in, and brought me my own chair. That was this chair." Loki sunk down into it, totally forgetting his previously straight back. "I would give anything to have those days back."
"Don't I know it," sighed Harry. "I'll go get all the stuff I have on her disappearance and we'll look through it together." Before Harry stood, he paused. "Who have you talked to already?"
"That coward of a Minister you have, Atlas Valerius." Harry grimaced at the mention of the name. "I was not amused."
"What did you do to him?" asked Harry, chuckling slightly, though there was a hint of trepidation hidden behind his eyes.
"He ended up with a blade through his shoulder." Harry laughed even harder, all doubt gone. "My patience, usually everlasting, couldn't keep up with the bumbling fool he is."
"Good. He needed a wakeup call, even if it was a violent one." Harry stood and went to go fetch the papers, leaving Loki alone in the lounge. When he was sure Harry was gone, he curled up in the chair, exactly how he used to when he was living with Hermione. It provided a strange sense of comfort, like the bittersweet memories were holding him in a gentle embrace. He would never tell anyone, not that he'd spoken to anyone as himself for years, due to being disguised as Odin. To comfort himself, though he was loathe to admit it, he often looked at memories of his time with Hermione. Her friendship meant so much to him, it really did.
On the mantle, Loki spied several photos sitting in sleek black frames. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned one of them it him. Inside the photo were three children, dressed in black robes. Infectious smiles played on their faces and a large castle sat royally in the distance behind them. Loki smiled slightly as he recognised a very young Hermione. He would know that bushy hair anywhere.
Harry re-entered the room, levitating a large box in front of him, papers spilling out the side. "Can you clear the coffee table, please? Just shove it all onto the floor." Contrary to Harry's request, Loki made sure that all the blueprints, quills and inkpots (and for some reason a few very streamlined looking twigs) were put away on the dining room table, very neatly.
"May I ask what those twigs are for?"
"Oh, ever since I was banned from ever working at the Ministry of Magic, I've been getting into broomstick crafting." He gestured at the box, now sitting on the coffee table. "I was fired because I wanted to look for Hermione. Valerius is involved in this, I know he is. And we're going to get to the bottom of this, I know we are."
"You are absolutely correct."
So they buckled down and began studying all the information that Harry had. Loki added things here and there. For weeks, they poured over the papers, until Harry came up with the radical idea of breaking into the Department of Mysteries and finding what Hermione was working on.
Loki agreed immediately.
Three months later, after their unsuccessful infiltration of the Department of Mysteries, Loki and Harry stood outside Valerius' door. They were both filled with a cold fury, and they both knew that it was Valerius that pushed Hermione through the portal, thanks to Loki using a rare form of his magic that he hadn't used in centuries.
Valerius was going to regret the day he messed with Hermione Granger and her friends.
A week later, a very tired, skittish Atlas Valerius resigned from his post as Minister of Magic, glancing out of the corner of his eyes. In the assembles crowd, Harry, Loki and Ron stood smirking, their work here done. They'd stripped the man of what he held most dear; his reputation. But he would never get away from them, thanks to the spell that Loki cast on him during their first meeting.
Because standing there was an ethereal, eerie version of Hermione, rambling on about Arithmancy variables, that would nevrer go away.
So, I wrote another interlude. I think the plan is going quite well, actually. I thought you might like a bit more of Loki, as he hasn't really been making many appearances, lately. He will be back next chapter, though. I didn't want this to turn out too long, though, as the main chapter should be up within the next two days. And let me tell you, it is a long one. It's currently sitting at around 4500 words, which is quite a lot with my new update schedule.
Also, we hit 7,000 views! How cool is that? Celebration!
Anyways, enough of me rambling.
Until tomorrow (or most likely the day after),
Mariadoria