Author's Note: I have heard that Loki's gender is fluid, so in my story he is female on Thursdays. Baby dinosaurs are another inside joke. They have no teeth.

Thursday

Loki woke up a few minutes before his flight touched down. Stretching and yawning, he noticed that there was something a bit … off … about his body. Must be the boobs he'd grown overnight. Loki didn't like to boast, but his female figure was very striking by both humans' and gods' standards.

The businessman beside him was staring fixedly at his laptop screen, looking very embarrassed. Loki grinned. He must have seen him settle into his seat last night as a man, and wake up now, very obviously female. He'd never played this kind of trick with his gender swap before! What fun!

Loki stretched again, shifting his hips in the narrow seat, making sure they collided with the man's thigh. The discomfort in his expression deepened and he gazed even more determinedly at his laptop screen, not seeming to notice that the episode of Game of Thrones he'd been watching had ended about thirty seconds ago.

Loki reached into his hand luggage, thanking God he'd remembered his make-up. Even if he only used it for this. He took out a tube of lip gloss and a small compact mirror and carefully applied a layer of deep pink to his lips, trying not to laugh at the poor man next to him. Every so often, he would glance in a panicked way in Loki's direction and quickly back to his laptop again, as if he really couldn't believe his eyes. Time to put him further into his misery.

Loki pressed his lips together and pouted in the mirror, then turned to his neighbour. "What do you think?" he asked, in a slightly more breathy voice than he would usually have used. "Does this lip gloss suit me? Is this my colour?"

The man, now in no doubt that Loki had either been female all along or had undergone some kind of miraculous seven-hour sex change, goggled at him. "Uh... um... sure. It's very … nice."

"Are you sure? Do you think a red might suit me better?" Loki turned to the mirror again. "I have this gorgeous deep sparkly red that one of my exes gave me once … wait a second, I'll dig it out …" He dived into his bag again, leaving the poor man looking distinctly unhappy.

At that moment, the plane touched down. The man beside Loki stuffed his laptop back into his hand luggage, undid his seatbelt and bolted out of his seat in record time, while the plane was still moving. Loki didn't have to pretend to pout this time. That had been fun!

Soon, he was standing outside the front door of the airport. It was just as sunny here, and he was glad he'd remembered his parasol. It was a dark silky green which matched his cape perfectly.

He decided to catch the next bus into London, find a hotel and change clothes. It was lucky he was female on the day he needed to gather information about his murderer and U-NO-POO. He had quite the range of persuasive female outfits...

A few hours later, Loki was standing on a busy London street, dressed to kill. (Metaphorically. He did have a few outfits for literal killing too, but he hadn't brought those.) He sauntered around the busy shops, eavesdropping on conversations while he decided what to do next. What was the best way of finding out the source of the purple leaflet? Obviously, it wasn't common knowledge, since Google had revealed nothing about it. It would be both stupid and unhelpful to go waving the leaflet around and asking questions about it. Who knew what might be protecting the source of the leaflet? No, he would have to be careful here. This needed thinking about.

He was in the middle of a crowded, sunny street, deep in thought, when someone bumped into him. A tall, lanky boy with hair as red as Rubowski's, who after bumping him stared a little too long at his cleavage, which was, in his defence, very on show. Loki stepped out of his way, mildly irritated, as a red-haired girl pulled on the boy's arm.

"Come on, Ron, stop staring at that poor woman's boobs. She's no Veela."

Excuse me?! thought Loki. Whatever a Veela was, he was definitely as attractive as one, if not more!

An older red-haired woman (how many of them were there, anyway?) called back, "We'd better hurry if we want to catch Fred and George before lunch … I can't believe they're carrying on with business at this time. And with products like U-NO-POO! Honestly..."

U-NO-POO? Loki's head whipped round. Luckily, the red-haired bunch didn't notice. They were all striding away and disappearing frighteningly quickly into the crowds. Loki hurried after them, desperately hoping they wouldn't notice him so close behind them. He was so easy to spot, especially as two of them had actually stopped and looked at him! Why had he worn such an eye-catching outfit? Well, he knew why, but it was still inconvenient!

He knew the sensible thing to do. Put away the parasol. But he couldn't. He just couldn't. He could feel the sun taunting him from beyond the shade, threatening him with brownness and freckles and melanomas... He couldn't!

So he hurried after them, hoping that he just looked like an eccentric (but still very attractive) young Londoner.

The red-haired family led him to a street a little away from the busiest part of the city centre. The crowds were still there, but it was possible to discern separate groups and individuals within it: it was no longer a single entity. For Loki, this was a huge disadvantage. A lone walker that wasn't rushing and/or dressed in a suit? He stuck out like a sore thumb. This had better not continue much longer, or he'd be found out.

The red-haired family looked up and down the street, then disappeared into a tiny, dark and shabby pub. Loki blinked. He could have sworn that the pub hadn't been there a second ago. But there it was. Perhaps he had been too fixated on following the red-haired family.

He knew that as soon as he entered the pub, they would recognize him. It looked far too small and unfrequented to be the kind of place where he could blend in easily. As quickly as possible, he twisted his hair into a bun, wiped off his lip gloss and (gritting his teeth) put away his parasol.

The sun assailed him. He started to sweat. He could feel every pore in his body protesting against this violent treatment. He squinted at the shabby pub across the street. It hadn't been so far away a minute ago, had it? He took a step. His clothes chafed in a new and unpleasant way, sticking to his skin, which was starting to sweat. Taking a deep breath, he began to cross the road.

He could barely see through his slitted eyes. Bins loomed up at him. Shadowy people bumped into him, leaving him even hotter than before. His skin broke out in a light flush. He swore he felt his feet swelling.

Finally, he reached the shade of the pub, panting after his ordeal.

It was much cooler inside. His eyes adjusted slowly to the light. He peered around the gloom, seeing no heads of flaming hair anywhere inside. Hmm. Where had they gone? He saw another person emerge from a door directly opposite him and exit the pub. Maybe they had gone that way?

Loki noticed the barman staring suspiciously at him. This must be a place with regular customers. He smiled and nodded at him, hoping this was enough to placate him, and left the place by the other door as quickly as possible.

The tiny yard beyond was blazing with sunlight and a horrible smell was coming from a bin in the corner. Loki squinched his eyes and nostrils shut and noticed that the red-haired family were disappearing through an archway in the brick wall opposite. He followed.

The alley beyond was overwhelmingly hot. Loki was dying to take his parasol out, but he resisted. He knew it was much too recognizable. He fixed his eyes on the red-haired group ahead and plodded after them, keeping his head down against the glare.

My forehead is going to be as burnt as Rubowski's behind, he thought irritably. He hoped Rubowski was taking note of everything Loki was doing for him from the afterlife. He deserved some good karma for this!

Loki was so fixed on the sun and on tailing the red-haired gang, he didn't notice just how strange his surroundings were. People were hurrying past with their heads down and hoods up. Many of the shops were covered with huge posters advising on security measures and wanted posters. Some were boarded up. However, none of this concealed the names of the shops, which were extremely weird in themselves – Eeylops Owl Emporium, Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, Quality Quidditch Supplies …?

Blinking, Loki realized that the red-haired gang had entered a shop. A shop that was very different to all the others surrounding it... One window was full of joke items: some classics that he recognized, like whoopee cushions, fake messes and card tricks, most entirely new... The other window was covered by a massive poster which read 'Why Are You Worrying About You Know Who? You SHOULD Be Worrying About U-NO-POO – the Constipation Sensation That's Gripping the Nation!'... The entire vision was crowned by a banner which read Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

Loki was too stunned and delighted even to grin. It looked like both of his quests were over.

Stepping in the door, Loki gazed in wonder at this Mecca of trickster's products. The walls were stacked from floor to ceiling with colourful boxes and objects, all promising spectacular results. It made his head spin. He had never seen so many things he could throw at Thor.

Dazedly making his way through the shop, Loki bumped against the red-haired girl. He didn't see her puzzled look.

"Ron, isn't that that woman you were ogling earlier? Did she follow us?"

"Don't be silly, Ginny, that woman had a totally different hairstyle. Look, they've got new stuff! 'The Baby Dinosaur: your friendly companion through thick and thin! Guaranteed to turn all owl-, toad- or cat-owning friends green with envy'."

Loki fought his way to the counter. Unlike the alley outside, this shop was teeming with people, all of which seemed to be making an incredible amount of noise – or maybe that was the products themselves? Managing to attract the attention of the sales attendant, he asked to speak to the manager. Frowning, she led him into a quieter room at the back of the shop and told him to wait until she had found Mr Weasley.

A few minutes later, a red-haired young man entered the room. A man who was the spitting image of Stefan Rubowski.

Loki jumped to his feet. He couldn't help it, he was so surprised. "You!" he gasped. "What do you know about this murder?"

Mr Weasley – presumably it was him – looked confused. "Murder? This is a joke shop. And if you are joking, it's terrible and please stop."

"Look, it's – I'm just – oh, I'm so confused – you look exactly like an acquaintance of mine who was murdered just last week! And this is what I found in his pocket!"

Loki dug the purple leaflet out of his handbag and extended it to the other man with trembling fingers. Yes, he was falling apart a little, but could you blame him? It had been a confusing week, and he was a woman today. Besides, anyone would fall apart a little in this situation. It just made him more believable.

Mr Weasley took the leaflet and studied it. "U-NO-POO … EVER AGAIN," he read. "This came from our shop. And you found this in your friend's pocket? And he was murdered?"

Loki calmed down a little and explained the entire situation to the man (leaving out the part about the Mafia, just in case this guy was one of those irritating law-abiding types). He relayed the story of his week so far: finding the body, tracking Rubowski to London and his luck in finding the source of the U-NO-POO leaflet.

Sorting through the facts in his own head, Loki was even more confused. This man and Rubowski were basically twins. They both owned joke shops. They looked almost the exact same. They lived in different cities … but Rubowski had recently been in London. Had Weasley murdered him to eliminate the competition? Surely not. Surely New York and London were far enough away for the two shops to coexist.

While Loki was thinking, Weasley had been studying the leaflet and rubbing his chin. He called for the other manager of the shop, who turned out to be another Weasley, and yet another double of Rubowski and the first Mr Weasley! What was going on? Was there a cloning factory hard at work somewhere, dedicated to keeping the red-hair gene alive?

The twin Weasleys – they must be twins, Loki decided – conferred quietly for a few minutes. Loki was too deep in his own thoughts to point out how rude this was, something he would normally have enjoyed greatly.

They turned to Loki. One of them said "We have a theory about this. We're not sure if you'll believe us, but – we think this murder is a case of mistaken identity."

Loki thought about it. Pieces started fitting themselves together in his mind with lightning quickness.

Mr Weasley was still talking.

"From what you say, the murder victim was very like us, in his job and in his appearance. And he was in London a short time ago. We think someone might have been aiming for us and traced the wrong man back to New York."

Of course. Of course. This was why Skinner had been so mystified. And why the death hadn't seemed to match any of the normal patterns of a Mafia death. It was because it wasn't a Mafia death. The U-NO-POO … EVER AGAIN message and the murder weapon had seemed like an inexplicable personal threat because it was a personal threat – just not personal to Rubowski.

There was just one thing puzzling him.

"But why would anyone want to kill you?" Loki asked the twins.

They grimaced. "Well … let's say we may have pissed off someone pretty powerful with our U-NO-POO range."

Loki was impressed. Not only were they first-class tricksters, they also had guts.

"We're really sorry about your friend," added the other twin. "You see … there's a sort of war brewing here, and everyone's in danger. He shouldn't have been dragged into it, though. That was our enemy being sloppy."

Loki nodded understandingly. He was far too familiar with that situation.

"Can we … could we ask for your help in finding the real murderer?" one twin asked, a little tentatively. "We know we're in danger now, so we want to find this guy … and you might have a personal interest."

Loki considered. Did he have a personal interest in finding the killer? Maybe he did. It wouldn't hurt to get close to the owners of this joke shop, either. There was a lot of stuff here that he had never seen before in his life, either on Asgard or on Earth.