Mischief Managed Chapter 6 Winds of Change, a Harry Potter + Thor Crossover fanfic

A/N: I blame—Draco. It's all his fault this time because… utterly random reasons.

Beta Love: The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, Commander Shepard

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Mischief Managed

Chapter 6

Winds of Change

The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life. - Richard Bach

"She wants what?" Theo asked, his ruby eyes wide in astonishment.

"Fortescue's rosewater-pistachio ice cream, Bertie Bott's beans and jelly slugs from Honeydukes, and Rosmerta's minted lamb pasties from the Three Broomsticks," Eirik moaned. "I have no idea what she is talking about!"

"That's a very specific list," Theo commented, shaking his head.

"She also wanted prawn paste basted seal skewers in habanero-lime sauce and chilli-dipped ice jellyfish. Now that I could handle," Eirik sighed. "The carrot soup with ginger and curry Lady Minerva graciously helped me with. The Punjabi egg rolls Severus helped me with. The salmon eggs Alastor helped me with. She craves the strangest things! Alone, the salmon eggs seemed fine, but she wanted them basted in honey butter and mixed with nori and sesame seeds!"

Harry rubbed his temples. "Luna has always enjoyed odd foods, even when she wasn't pregnant and, uh, well, before she became Jötunn."

Eirik slumped. "What shall I do?"

"I'll get the ice cream, beans, jelly slugs, and lamb pasties," Harry offered. "I think it's probably best that Draco not have to deliver food to a pregnant Luna."

Eirik sighed in relief. "Thank you, friend Harry."

Harry smiled, then went a little green. "Just don't make me stick around and watch her eat it all together, okay?"

Eirik chuckled. "Okay."

Summertime came and went, and with the season's exit, the sharp increase in births was viewed as somewhat less exotic and soon came to be seen as the new normal. Fall brought with it the usual surge of centaur foals frolicking about in the leaves and getting into all kinds of mischief due to the large harvests and ample food supply— more than they had ever known before the appearance and reign of the quetzalcoatls.

By the time winter came around, everyone was ready and none more so than the Jötunn, who always looked forward to the colder seasons and the end of the "strange infestation of greenery" that they had gamely attempted to get used to. They finally had accustomed themselves to it, if only because the egg-shard pendants allowed them to avoid sweating themselves into oblivion. And as each Jötunn seemed to realise what a blessing that was, even more spontaneous offerings of faith fed the temple quetzalcoatls. That, of course, fed the hyperactive and overly-helpful serpentlets, and, well, that always let to further interesting events.

The serpentlets had their snouts fully into about two hundred-some new matchmaking events, many of which involved Jötunn, but some alien, some centaur, and even a few goblins made it into the mix. Humans were thrown in liberally like homegrown herbs, with a dash of Asgardian spice for even more added flavour. Strangely, the serpentlets didn't seem all that keen on matching up superhuman pairings, but their exposure to those sorts had been severely limited due to the level of sheer chaos they tended to bring along every single time even one of them visited— the last being a particularly annoying States-based paramilitary group that wanted to take out the visiting aliens that were a potential "danger to humanity."

That hadn't gone over well. Not at all.

The alien faithful had been royally pissed off. The temple visitors had been ready to bring nuclear armageddon down upon them. One alien race had wanted to eat the brains of the S.H.I.E.L.D infidels, reasoning that if they weren't using them, then why shouldn't their people get to nosh on them? Someone had managed to brass off an entire litter of feisty, tentacled panther-creatures from some exceedingly distant jungle planet, and the their equally brassed-off parents had tried to feed some super-humanoid agent to their cubs for the annoyance alone.

Oh, and then there were the really annoyed goblins who didn't exactly appreciate S.H.I.E.L.D. just breaking through the ceiling of the caverns with a giant airship and barging into the temple without bothering with such niceties as announcing themselves, never mind not having been invited to visit in the first place.

Jane, having more than had it with random people dropping in uninvited on teatime, naptime, booklet sitting, kitten grooming, or singing to the tentacula seedings (which they really appreciated), picked up Mjölnir (after tenderly tucking her babies into their bassinet) and proceeded to smash in faces until it stopped amusing her.

It hadn't stopped amusing her.

The serpentlets were starting to take bets on how many of those very rude humans would end up regrowing multiple bones in the infirmary and if it would even work just as Mjölnir took out some particularly obnoxious bloke with an eyepatch and sent him careening off the edge of the temple island. A large detail of bodies went shooting after him shortly after— but how well they fared was still up for debate.

The serpentlets had cuddled up to Jane for the rest of the evening, along with every single un-kitten, tentacula seedling, booklet, and last, but not least, her own children— and Mjölnir himself, who seemed quite content to sit beside her and share the babysitting duties.

S.H.I.E.L.D., their members having crawled their way back up from the very bowels of the vaults, their bodies covered in seriously nasty wounds from the various dragons that protected the lower vault areas, took one look at Jane calmly drinking her frosty coconut beverage and eating a very large Acromantula leg with nothing but her hands and face, very wisely (and quite meekly) got back into their airship and left.

"You didn't tell me your Jane was a warrior!" Hogun laughed, clapping Thor companionably on the back.

"She's not! Er… well, she wasn't! I mean— oh, nevermind," Thor said with a sigh.

They had received a rather humble letter correspondence via the shiniest polished metal scroll tube anyone had ever seen— by Niffler, along with the fountain pen, chewing gum, coins, keys to various things and or places, and an identification wallet belonging to someone named 'Nick Fury', a driver's license, several debit cards, a few platinum VISAs, and no few sets of U.S. government ID. Oops.

The letter, at least, apologised for the unfortunate misunderstanding, stating that they had an informant come to them and explain in precise detail exactly where they could to go to find real dangerous alien invaders. When it became clear that the "crazy woman with the hammer" wasn't actually trying to kill them so much as defend her family and the temple grounds, they had tried to withdraw, but some of the squads had taken it upon themselves to play deaf to the orders they were given and chose to attack anyway. Then, when Fury himself had tried to come up and explain, well, he'd taken a swift hammer to the face by a very protective Jane.

He promised that he was going to take care of the situation in-house, but somehow a few of the parties involved had sprouted fur and fangs, devolved into strange book-like creatures, and sported the titles: Military Arrogance: How NOT to Make Allies and Influence People. Apparently those afflicted had been locked up together in a maximum security reinforced cell to prevent the entire organization from being attacked by uber-violent book-things.

Hermione and Loki had both been more than amused by that particular development.

Jane, after that particular battle, had slept for about a month with the serpentlets helping guide the babies to her breasts to allow them to nurse while she slept, insuring that more than adequate nutrition had been achieved. Thor could only boggle at how great it was to be alive, happy and have such a high-functioning family, even if the serpentlets occasionally chewed up some Acromantula or frost-seal and then mouth-fed the growing babies from time to time.

The babies really seemed to like it, so who was Thor to argue?

Vidar, of course, never strayed too far from Minerva, and so by definition was never far from baby Vali either. The same was the case with Geir and Ishea and baby Falkor. But the two were not in need of a great deal of tending, Jötunn infants having the instinctive need to settle, remain silent and allow whoever they were with to hunt successfully. As long as they stayed nestled close to the skin, Jötunn babies were perfectly happy to remain ever calm and quiet.

There were a great many humans and aliens alike who envied the Jötunn that particular genetic gift. Even Frigga, the ever-patient goddess herself, had privately admitted that there had been quite a few times that she had wished that it could be so easy to settle Thor and Loki, particularly during their more terrible tantrums. So far, at least, the twins were behaving like typical Asgardian babies, sleeping and eating their way through the first decade of life, though Jane did wonder how or when the serpentlets had introduced the babies to their odd pacifier of choice: a link of smoked Slovenian sausage from some place called Raddell's. Thor blamed it on Volstagg, but the red-bearded warrior just gave him that look that said "Not me!"

Volstagg's wife, Hildegund, managed to gain permission to join Volstagg down on Miðgarðr, and while her first attempts at socialising with the Jötunn had been rocky at best, the little feathered instigators wriggled their way into her heart and opened it to the Jötunn with surprising ease, especially when she realised that their much-beloved Prince Loki had been Jötunn all along.

True to Volstagg's boasting, Hildegund could take shoe leather and make it taste like prime rib, and she even managed to improve on what was already considered tasty by whipping up a chilli-garlic sauce that had two parts known and one part mystery in the mixture that had even Hermione and Severus mulling over what ingredients she had added to make it seem so much more potent. In fact, it was her cooking that finally broke down the barriers between the Asgardian female and her former-enemies. She realised that they had a true appreciation for good food (and were not, in fact, heathens) and they realised that she had a talent for preparing food that went beyond ridiculous cultural borders.

Volstagg breathed a sigh of relief, and so did Hogun and Fandral, who were almost to the point of punting the bemoaning Volstagg out of their quarters for complaining about missing his wife's cooking so much.

Of course, hungry serpentlets were always ready to help test the food, and Hildegund was not immune to their charms, even if she was a little embarrassed by how very blunt they were about— well, everything, not to mention the first time they snuggled up to her and asked her how she liked to have sex with Volstagg and if it involved singing and dancing like mum and dad, bellowing like Ambassador Bulvoki'rit and using various strange and peculiar decorations for his phallus, or getting rip-roaringly drunk and then all gross and slobbery like the infamous Mr Black. Did Volstagg have two like Ambassador Gividouer, or just one like their human friends? Tentacles perhaps? Reproduction via budding? The ever-curious serpentlets wanted to know.

At that point, Severus saved Hildegund from her blushing madly streak by plucking the serpentlets up and carrying them off "to learn potions."

Hildegund sent Severus and Ishea a very large platter of deviled Acromantula legs in thanks for his timely intervention. No one was complaining about that, least of all Severus. And Ishea most definitely wasn't. Hildegund started a cooking group, and most of her new "students" were eager Jötunn females and a handful of aliens, who brought random native foods from their respective homelands to the class and tinkered with all the new recipes. Sometimes Hermione would pop in and learn a thing or two, filtering the information off to her father in a sneaky, roundabout Slytherin manner.

Life was good for those living in the heart of the goblin nation. The temple grounds and the various sixty-odd islands had become something far greater than merely a respectable place to live, and many people from widely varied cultures were coming to find it had grown very close to their hearts. The goblins had become far less irritated by magical Britain in general simply by knowing that they had it very good where it mattered: at home. Britain could sequester them away, refuse to permit them wands, and other such rot, but the goblins were the ones with the quetzalcoatl family under their roof, and no one could say the quetzalcoatls were there under duress in any way, shape, or form.

Well, some people had tried to make that particular accusation, one of them being the perpetually ladder-climbing Percy Weasley under some political pot-stirring knob calling himself Dungus Greasebourne. The rule number one in political pot-stirring and social climbing, apparently unknown to Percy and Dungus, was when going after resident gods, Asgardian or otherwise, whatever you have in mind, do make sure not to go about it with a name that pegs you as a rampaging, gormless, ninnyhammer.

Alas, when Aurors barged into Percy Weasley's office looking for one Dungus Greasebourne, they caught Percy beating the everliving shite out of a grey-furred, yellow-eyed, blunt toothed, slavering book entitled: Political Corruption and Hypocrisy: the Greasebourne Family Business

Percy retired from the Ministry of Magic shortly after, swearing to anyone who would listen that he never wanted be around parchment or books ever again, and so he promptly moved to the wilds of Romania to work with one of his elder brothers, Charlie, on a remote dragon preserve as a dragon-apprentice along with Rubeus Hagrid. Rumour had it the epic fights between Percy and Rubeus were so heated that even the dragons respected them. If there was any truth to that, however, neither man was saying.

To celebrate the end of the harvest season and the long-awaited coming of winter, Hermione took the Jötunn and the serpentlets to a remote alpine region in Siberia that was days out from any Muggle villagers, tourists, S.H.I.E.L.D., magical lunatics, yeti-hunters, or random camera teams attempting to chase down Bigfoot, snow leopards, or Siberian tigers. The Jötunn had a celebration when they realised that the region seemed awfully similar to Jötunheimr when it came to freezing cold, ice and snow. The hunting was different, but after being used to danger coming from all sides, nothing Siberia had was really all that different to the Jötunn. When Björnar pulled out a five meter-long catfish out of an ice pond, everyone seemed to agree that the place was a lot like Jötunheimr, after all. After taking just enough to feed the group, they offered the rest to the Great Frost Mother, thanking her for her bounty wherever they might travel. By morning, the entire carcass was gone— not a bone or whisker to be found.

The serpentlets discovered the joy and wonder of powdery snow so deep that the Jötunn considered going their normal size, but they decided to instead enjoy the frigid arctic weather on its own terms. Alastor taught the serpentlets all about sledding, and they eagerly took to it after Laufey carved them sleds out of the ice and sent them happily zooming down the hills in their homemade toboggans.

The younger hunters were eager to do some hunting of their own, and Hermione's only request was that they not hunt any of the endangered species that she knew of— animals that had been hunted so much that the very sight of them was considered a great honour. That, all the hunters understood well, and they promised Hermione that they would not hunt those things that their adopted home was struggling to retain.

That evening, the hunters brought back a large moose together, saying it was better to go on a great hunt as a team in a new place, so that it did not unduly tax the environment that supported them. Again, they carved enough out for themselves and their fellows, making sure the serpentlets had plenty to eat as well as Hermione and Loki, all of which accepted the offering quite graciously, and then left the rest with a prayer to the Great Frost Mother to thank her for her continued generosity and ask her for her blessing that they might continue hunting in this place that was different, yet so much like home.

The next morning, the carcass was gone, the only thing left was the hide, which had been defleshed so pristinely that not a bit of muscle or fat remained— the hide completely tanned and supple. Laufey saw it for the favourable sign that it was, and he gave the hide to the youngest hunter in the group, telling him that the Great Frost Mother had given them their blessing, and he was giving the hide to their family to both shelter and protect their newest arrival that had been birthed in the very snows of Siberia.

Ronan and his mate, Valda, accepted the hide with great honour, wrapping his mate and child snugly with the thick moose hide, and gave his most ardent prayer to the Great Frost Mother, and much to Loki and Hermione's surprise, to them as well— the swell of his family's great faith giving them a meal that made the serpentlets drowsy with the sheer size and quality of the faith-meal.

With respectful hands, Valda and Ronan tied a small carved bone-charm into their manes as they thanked them for the newfound peace that had allowed them to be there in the first place. Minerva, with Vali tucked against her warm breast, gave her husband-king a meaningful look, and Laufey tucked her close to his side, pressing his face into her long hair with a content smile.

Meanwhile, on the hill, the serpentlets had exchanged ice-carved toboggans for human ones, deciding that Harry and Draco made most excellent substitutes. They pounced the two of them from every snow drift. They tackled them from behind every bit of cover, and they used them both as living sleds down the hillside. Harry and Draco seemed to take it all in stride, finding a special kind of peace with the serpentlets that most of their "victims" did, one way or another, only for the two wizards, it seemed they were finally stepping up in the full-contact all-in handling of the serpentlets that they hadn't quite been able to do before.

Harry seemed much more at ease with the hunting and the resulting carcasses, once he saw for himself just how much respect the hunters put into it. No longer separated from the cycle that brought the food to the table and how much work each person put into not only the hunt itself, but the preparation, preservation, and use of almost everything as well as how incredibly exhausting it was to do so— Harry finally was able to assist and take part in the meals without feeling like the square wheel. He even built a magically-warmed travelling bassinet for Jane's twins to relieve her of having to struggle with keeping the two warm as they went from camp to camp and assisted Valda by enchanting her moose-hide so it would stick wherever she placed it, even in the harshest of winds. Thor and Loki exchanged meaningful glances, pleased to finally see a more hands-on, mature change in Harry.

"Hey, Uncle Harry," Natsu greeted cheerfully, her head bobbing up and down as her gold-tipped tail swished back and forth. Her sky-blue eyes peered into his as he worked on his most recent project. "Whatcha up to?" She rubbed her pale gold belly scales against his arm as she curled around it, effectively halting all work until her question was answered.

Harry rubbed her chin with his hand, smiling.

The serpentlet nibbled his fingers affectionately.

"Trying to polish an old heirloom by hand," Harry replied.

"Why?"

"It was my mum's, when she was in school," Harry explained.

"Was it important?"

"To her, yes."

Natsu peered at it curiously. "Shoes?"

"Sandals."

"They're pretty," Natsu said, bobbing her head again. "Broken?"

Harry nodded. "An old friend of my parents visited today. He and his wife, Nymphadora, are living in Australia. These were my mother's, she wore them the day she got married. She tripped shortly after, and broke them. Remus held onto them for sentimental value."

"Nice of him," Natsu observed.

Harry nodded with a smile.

"Why are you fixing them without magic?"

Harry made a face. "I don't know. I think— I think I want to connect to my mum in the happiest moment of her life rather than remember her death."

SqueeeeFLOP.

A pink book landed on Harry's lap and squeaked a greeting. It was Pitch, her pink fur making her a distinctive blotch of bright colour in his lap. She eyed the sandals and purred, snuggling up to them as a bright red heart formed on her cover. She rubbed up against them as golden letters flowed across her spine: The Seductive Allure of Sexy Sandals.

Harry couldn't hold back his laugh as he watched the pink book love all over his mum's sandals. He blinked. Was that?

As the frothy book paste soaked into the sandals, they mended back into mint condition, save for a little bit of frothy book paste.

Harry's face softened, and he hugged the book tightly, pressing his face into the fluffy pink fur. Pitch purred happily, distracted from loving on the objects of her affection for Harry instead. A soft pastel heart formed on her cover as her title shifted into: Friendship is Magic.

"You could dream of her," Natsu said, her golden tail swishing patterns in the air. Cosmic plasma danced around her scales and feathers. She poked the sandals with her nose. "The memories are in there."

Harry's eyes widened. "Really?"

Natsu nodded. "Mum and dad could just give you a vision, but I haven't figured out how to do that yet." The serpentlet hung her head.

Harry stroked her mane of feathers. "It's ok. I love that you're willing to try."

Natsu perked up. "Really?"

Harry smiled at her. "Really."

Natsu lay her head on Harry's nose, tongue flicking. Her feathered mane started to stand up, framing her head in a shaggy ball of multiple colours. Cosmic energy hummed around her as she rocked back and forth like a cobra following a flute. Her mouth opened, fangs glinting, and she mock struck, bobbed and swayed, struck again, and did her best to dance like she'd seen her parents do. She faltered, hesitating, but Harry put his hands on her scales and smiled warmly. His belief in her sparkled in his eyes, and that faith swirled around the little quetzalcoatl with a visible rainbow of energy ribbons.

"Hnnnnnnn," Hermione's voice sang through the Ether.

"Nnnnnnnh," Loki's reply joined her.

The faith of Harry's belief focused and fed the miniature quetzalcoatl until she was brimming with power. Her feathers shone like sun reflectors.

"Nnnnaaaaaa!" the little serpentlet attempted the song, her voice trembling, but gaining confidence.

"Hnnnnn," Hermione's voice built the platform.

"Nnnnnh," Loki's song wove around the song of his mate's.

Yet, there was something missing, as if they were leaving out some key thing on purpose.

Natsu's voice sang through the Ether, joining her parent's with her own clarion declaration. Her voice filled in the web her parents had left open, allowing their child to stretch herself to the limits of her need and built what she dreamed of on a foundation that would not fail her.

Harry fell back on the couch with a wondrous sigh, his mind filled with such beauty of this small serpentlet with an even bigger heart. He felt his heart swell with love for her as his eyes closed, and he fell deep, deep, deep into the past memory of his parent's marriage.

Pitch purred and curled up on Harry's chest next to Natsu and the pair of sandals, content to have all the things she could ever want all at once.

"Welcome to my own little piece of paradise, kitten," Sirius said as he bowed slightly to let the younger witch in.

"Wow, It's way bigger than it looks from the outside!" she said with a little awe.

"Would you like a drink, kitten?"

"Do you have real elf-made wine?" the younger witch asked, sitting down.

"You sure you don't want Firewhisky?" Sirius asked.

"Oh no! I couldn't," the witch replied.

"Elf-made wine it is then," Sirius said, slurring his words slightly.

"Are your relatives actors?" she asked as she stared at the moving photographs over the mantle. She eyed the photo of Harry, Draco, and Theo making faces at the camera. Her eyes grew very wide as she noticed Theo's very blue skin and the fact that he was hardly wearing anything at all, his hand gripping a rune-covered spear. Behind them was a "jungle forest scene" complete with ancient temple. "This is a really realistic painting. It looks almost like a photograph. Are you into fantasy art, Sirius?"

"More like life art, kitten," he replied, clinking glasses and bottles behind the bar.

She sat down on the comfy arm chair, brows furrowed.

"Rrrr?"

She turned to see a pink book eyeing her curiously.

"Oh! Hello, what's your name?"

The pink book blinked at her as a gold question mark formed on her cover. Golden letters flowed across her spine and cover: Unexpected Guests After Visiting Hours.

She held out her hand. "Do you wish to make friends?"

Pitch hopped over, and the young witch gently stroked her fluffy pink fur. "Oh! How wonderful."

Pitch purred, rubbing against her hand.

Sirius, hands full of drinks, belatedly realised that his godson was conked out on his love-couch with the forbidden serpentlet, and prodded him with his foot. "Hey! Harry! Take the baby home, yeah? We have guests."

"Hnngh?" Harry hugged the serpentlet tighter, still deeply asleep.

"Oi!" Sirius grunted, poking him a little harder with his boot.

"Oh! I don't want to be any trouble!" The young witch said, giving the book an affectionate pat. She stood up. "I had a great time, but I should probably get going."

"Oh don't leave, kitten," Sirius pouted. "I think Harry just forgot that this was our evening tonight."

He prodded Harry with his boot again, harder.

"Rrrrr!"

Pitch bounced across Harry's leg and put herself in front of Sirius' prodding foot. "RrrrRrRrrrr!"

"Oh for fuck's sake," Sirius growled at the book. He pried the book off Harry's body and moved it over.

Pitch glared at him and chomped his boot, foaming and getting book paste all over it. The title on the book changed into: Do Not Disturb. Sleeping is Golden.

"Oh, please don't worry, we can always meet again—" the young witch said rather nervously.

Sirius, however, in his inebriated state, seemed to check his sense at the door. He flicked his boot so hard that both the boot and the book went flying into the far wall with a loud THUMP.

The pink book teetered awkwardly, shook herself off, and then growled, fur standing on end. Her spine and cover text changed to dark red and transformed into: A Thousand and One Papercuts: A Manual on Magical Neutering.

The book's pages rustled, transforming into multiple rows of shark-like teeth. Book paste dripped from its "fangs" and it threw itself at Sirius' exposed and unbooted foot, sinking its hardened paper teeth deep into his sock.

Sirius went tumbling backwards, the two drinks flying off into different directions. One went into the fireplace, causing a flare of flames, and the other smacked Harry in face, causing him to leap straight up in the air as the startled baby serpentlet shot to the ceiling, clinging to the chandelier.

"Mummyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!" Natsu cried out in fright, radiating extreme distress and cosmic plasma in a bright green flood.

The air became thick as the odour of ozone filled the room. The temperature rapidly dropped by tens until the air became white with their breath.

Hnnnnnnnnnn.

Nnnnnnnnnnh.

Two figures stepped out of the hearth without the usual green flames to herald their arrival. One with a thick mane of wavy black hair and glowing crimson eyes, wreathed in a crackling energy that seemed to bleed out the edges, and one with a mane of brunette curls and multi-coloured feathers. Her eyes blazed golden, flickering from a rich honey to the brightness of the sun. Magic hung heavily upon them.

The moment they stepped through, Natsu dropped upon them, flinging herself into her mum's embrace. "Mummy!" she cried, wrapping herself around her mother's neck like a choking scarf.

Loki's crimson eyes blazed, flicking from the couch where Harry was nursing a knot on his head that was nearly the size of a quaffle, to the nameless young witch whose eyes were as wide as saucers to a stunned-looking Sirius, who was flat on his back with an angry pink book gnawing on his foot.

"Sirius Black," Hermione's voice said, cutting through the air like a hot knife through butter.

"Why is it always you?" Loki finished the question, his lip curling upward in disgust.

"Pitch," Hermione said, kneeling down. "Come."

The pink book spat out a mouthful of paste and the remains of Sirius' sock, and bounced over to Hermione, hopping into her hand obediently. She stood, cradling the book in the crook of her arm.

Loki put out his hand, and Hermione placed hers in it immediately. There was a nova of heated magic that filled the room. Loki caught the young witch as she fainted, his long, pale fingers brushing over her face like the long legs of a spider. "I think it best you remember a wonderful evening spent with friends and that you wake having had the best night of your life. Home— with a wonderfully irrational fear of tall, dark-haired wizards that smell of wet dog."

His eyes closed, a red flash of magic gleamed under the lids, and the witch disappeared from his arms completely as if she hadn't ever been there at all.

"We have warned you." Loki's rumbling voice was like the movement of the great seawolf whale under the ice of Jötunheimr.

"Warned you," Hermione chimed, her voice like the crackling movement of ice over the water.

"To watch yourself."

"Around our children."

"Our children."

"For your transgressions."

"Many upon many."

"May your scent forever herald your arrival"

"Long before you do."

Their voices overlapped and wove together as one.

"May your masculine treasure—"

"Reflect your true self."

"Until the skies burn."

"Until Ragnarök."

"Or until you find true humility."

"Whichever."

"Comes first."

"Sirius Black."

"Of the House of Black."

"The Ancient."

"Noble."

"House of Black."

"This is your doing."

"Your curse."

"Of your own making."

"And only you."

"Only you."

"Can bring about its end."

Their bodies shimmered brightly, and they looked as they were going to say something more, but Sirius Black was no longer listening. He was completely unconscious, having passed out cold on the floor of the House of Black.

Loki turned to his daughter. "No more visits to Grimmauld Place, my dear daughter."

The serpentlet hung her head. "I'm sorry, daddy."

Hermione soothed her head. "It is not your fault, my love." She turned her head to Harry. "Harry, I think it's time you came to live with us."

"You mean it?!" Natsu cried excitedly.

"Does your mother ever say what she does not mean?"

Natsu did a joyful loop-de-loop in the air and then hugged both her mum and dad's necks together. "Yay!"

Harry, still rubbing his aching head, said, "What?"

"Take my hand, Harry Potter."

Harry blearily placed his hand in Hermione's.

FWOOOMP.

They were gone.

"What an idiot," Theo said, shaking his head as he wrapped new leather around his spear shaft.

Harry sighed, rubbing his head, which still had a goose egg the size of a quaffle. "He's not always bad, the drinking makes him think he's young again, I think."

"Young should not be synonymous with stupid," Theo said with a sniff.

Harry slumped. "Remus said the same, when I owled him. He sent me a Patronus this morning after being summoned from a frantic Patronus this morning. Harry's face flushed. "Apparently, erm—"

Theo poked Harry with the dull end of his spear. "Spill it, Potter."

"He smells like wet dog mixed with skunk, and he has a tiny pink-covered miniature poodle dick."

Theo blinked and then busted out laughing hysterically, falling over onto the ground and rolling around, cackling all the way.

"It's not funny!" Harry blurted, but he was already laughing, snorting into his hand as Pitch bounced up and down in his lap. The lettering on her cover spelled out: Justice.

"You know, when Remus left to live with Tonks, he seemed so relieved. I thought it was because he'd get to live life without the war, yeah? But— I'm starting to think that even though they were friends growing up, Remus grew up and Sirius— Sirius never really had the chance having been in Azkaban and all."

"Quite possible," Theo said, catching his breath as Pitch bounced into his lap and begged for pets. "Azkaban doesn't really reach prisoners to reform. It preserves them as they are, just as evil as they went in, and the Dementors— They feed off everything happy. What does that leave you with?"

"Sirius said that all he could focus on was the death of his best mate— his face," Harry said. "I think that's why he always thought I was him. And the older I became the more I looked like my dad and the more he ended up thinking it was back then."

"Azkaban messes you up for sure," Theo agreed. "I can't say I can blame him for being fucked up."

A multi-coloured sock stuffed itself into Theo's mouth, and he struggled to pry it out. "Ugh, dam—"

Theo glared at Harry, and Harry waved his hands around. "Wasn't me!"

"Anyway, I think if you go in innocent, it breaks you," Theo said. "But Sirius— I think he had things he was guilty about but could never face. He may have been innocent of the murder he was accused of, but he had guilt under that bravado, and that's the kind of thing Dementors love to torture you with. Unfortunately, he came out of Azkaban with even more denial than he went in. Not that he doesn't care about you, Harry."

"He's just messed up about it," Harry said.

"Yeah," Theo agreed.

"I saw what Sirius did to Severus," Harry said. "My dad too. I denied it for years. Blamed it on being a constructed lie. It was only Hermione— the trust she had for him. Her indignation whenever I blamed him for anything. I finally saw him as a person. I'm just glad—" Harry looked out over the temple grounds, smiling. "I'm just glad I figured it out before we graduated, yeah?"

"You're a better person when you aren't accusing all Slytherin as being murderers," Theo admitted, giving him a wink.

"Psh," Harry scoffed. "My fault really. I let Ron tell me that Slytherins were evil. The first day I was at Hogwarts, Hagrid said there wasn't one wizard gone bad that wasn't from Slytherin. After Wormtail, you'd think I'd have figured that was bunk, but—"

"We all have things we have a hard time letting go of," Theo said. "When Severus adopted Hermione and told us all that if we even thought something bad about her he'd make sure he was 1 second late to shielding us from our own potion explosions, we all had to make adjustments. It took a while, but— Hermione is way more Slytherin than she is Gryffindor. She's cunning. She just has that obnoxious bit of bravery thrown in."

Harry snorted. "It is not obnoxious."

"Oh it is, trust me there," Theo ribbed. He tilted his head, thoughtful. "Hermione lost her parents back when I just realised my dad was a monster. I think that was why we bonded so well. I'd just learned I couldn't trust my own dad, so maybe there was more to Hermione Snape than everyone wanted me to believe. I think we were all deceived, really. We all had prejudices. Hell, Blaise took longer than any of us to get his head out of his arse with his won't even breathe the same air as some dirty Mudblood business."

"What changed his mind?"

Theo's lips curved into a cruel smile.

"Come on, don't leave me hanging now!" Harry protested.

Theo crossed his arms.

Harry pouted and then seemed to get an idea. He took Pitch and sicced her onto Theo's neck, causing the Jötunn to bowl over backwards, spear in one hand, Pitch in the other, giggling hysterically as her fur tickled him and she got book paste all over him.

"Arrrhhh! I relent!" Theo moaned.

"Spill it, mate."

Theo pried the book off his neck and set her in his lap, petting her to placate her.

"You know that day that Crabbe and Goyle turned the entire Potions class into cute, fuzzy animals?"

"How could I forget that."

"Remember what Blaise turned into?"

Harry pondered. "I don't even remember him being, oh I guess he was. No I don't remember at all!"

"Hermione smuggled him out between her otter teeth into another classroom where she made the antidote as an otter," Theo said with a chuckle. "Severus, of course, knew exactly what she was up to, came in, checked the potion, and left. Didn't even bat an eye. She took the antidote first so Blaise wouldn't freak out, gave him the dose, and then they both came in with the antidote for the rest of the class. No one had to realise that Blaise had been running around as a baby quail."

Theo grinned. "He was so fluffy!"

Harry busted out laughing. "That's so Hermione… brewing something as an otter and not even batting an eyelash."

"She's a Snape," Theo said. "I think that was when most of the blowhards in Slytherin finally realised she thought of us as people and respected our honour, yeah? Even if we didn't respect hers. That changed after that. Blaise said if he caught anyone talking bad about Hermione Snape, he'd curse their bits."

Harry instinctively covered his privates.

"Yeah, he'd do it too," Theo replied with a grin.

Purrr. Purrr. PuuurrRrrrRRRrr.

Pitch straddled both of their laps with a happy purr.

Harry looked thoughtful. "Ever wonder what it would be like if—"

"Often," Theo said. "Makes me glad things happened as they did."

"He's still out there," Harry said with a frown. "You Know Who."

Theo frowned. "I will admit that it is hard to remember the Dark Lord when you are building your life around living gods," he said grimly, his fingers tightening a round his spear. "I think— faith has given us a reprieve from the ravages of war. The more we believe, the better life seems to get. For real. For us. He's out there, but his evil—"

Theo gripped Harry's shoulder. "The biggest truth we knew was that the Dark Mark was forever. That darkness was something that could never be rid of. It would stain your soul forever because he was forever."

Theo's now-crimson eyes glowed softly. "Raina banished the Mark from Severus' arm. It is not faded or doomed to come back. It is well and truly gone. It is faith in something true, something pure that allowed this. It is something foreign to him. Love. He scoffs at it because he doesn't understand it, but he also fears it for the same reason. Maybe he's plotting— mustering up others like Lucius to finish his task for him. Maybe he already has, which is why we haven't seen them. Perhaps they have already failed— but those living here, those touched by what lives here, will fight to the very end to keep it, and that is a powerful thing to have."

Harry smiled weakly. "How did you get so knowing, Theo?"

"Psh, I've always been in the know, Potter." The Jötunn winked, but he patted Harry with a smile. "It also helps to be around gods of knowledge and learning."

A hoard of baby booklets and tentacula seedlings chased each other down the temple steps in front of them with Mjölnir, dragging the hammer with them.

Harry's lips tugged, twitching. "Don't forget mischief and thunder."

Theo grinned. "How could any of us forget?"

Pitch hopped out of their laps to chase after her friends, making adorable squeaking noises with each bounce.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You, goblin," Voldemort hissed an echo of the serpent beside him. "Take me to the safest place in all of Gringott's."

The goblin teetered back and forth, swaying while under the influence. He said nothing, but he opened the cart door and stepped into it, waiting.

"My Lord," Bellatrix hissed, "it could be a trap!"

"Silence, Bellatrix," Voldemort growled.

The curly-haired witch chewed on the end of her wand, having learned her lesson in questioning her Lord's stashing of things in her family vault by having a nice, personal, family-like Crucio session as various multiplying goblets tried to bury her alive as she writhed on the floor.

"You will take us to the safest place in all Gringott's," Voldemort repeated, and the goblin closed the door as the cart began to move them even deeper into the vault system than even the LeStrange vault. They passed multiple dragons that tried to flame them as they went, but the dragons never left "their" patch of vault.

The cart stopped, and they got out, only to realised they were being led further down, down through passages that twisted and turned and led to—

"Guhh!" Bellatrix said. Even she had to stop and wonder at the sight of the floating islands. Sun and wind came in from above, seemingly by magic. The blazing brightness made it hard to tell if it was being conjured or if the sun was truly coming from outside.

"Dirty goblins keeping this secret from us!" Bellatrix said, sticking her wand into the goblin's throat.

The goblin, however, simply swayed back and forth, his teeth half-bared in an almost grimace.

"How do we get there?" Bellatrix hissed, poking the goblin in the middle of the forehead with her wand.

The goblin said something in Gobbledegook, causing Bellatrix to scowl. She glowered, looking as though she were going to slap the goblin, but he pointed a hand toward the dock where a boat sat in the air as it would have on water.

Voldemort pointed his wand at the gobin. "You will take us there safely."

"Nnngh!" Harry hissed, rubbing his forehead.

"Something wrong, Uncle Harry?" The serpentlets wriggled up against him as he lay in his new home.

"The scar," Harry said. "It's burning again."

"Scars burn?" Itzel asked, sticking her nose closer to Harry's forehead.

"I thought you burned to get scars," Yoki said, her rainbow tail swishing back and forth like a plume.

Naseem peered at the scar with one golden eye, the leafy flecks moving across the surface of his eye as he stared. He beat his honey-coloured wings and examined the scar closer.

The other serpentlets yawned sleepily, opening one eye as they yawned, showing their teeth like a lion as their forked tongues lolled. All of them had decided to pile up on Harry and sleep with him on his first week in to make him feel more comfortable. Harry, while not saying anything specifically, seemed to appreciate it more, even taking to the task of feeding them in the morning— even if it meant slicing up and preparing seal blubber for them. Oddly enough, ever since the time spent in Siberia with the serpentlets, Harry had grown on the baby quetzalcoatls. The young antics seemed to heal something in him he hadn't realised he needed healing for.

Harry, having completely forgotten about the Dark Lord due to so much going on in his life, from the brewery to new friendships, and the very obvious changes and discoveries of one of your friends being a god serpent— well there were just plenty of things to think about that didn't scream Voldemort. That— and the temple grounds themselves were vibrating with cosmic flows, magic, energy, and faith, something that was beyond anything he'd ever experienced at Hogwarts.

Voldemort, for his part, had remained quiet after Lucius had bookified himself. Whether it was because of that or some other sinister plot, Harry had no idea. But the Death Eaters had been quiet. Voldemort had been quiet, and it had been all too easy to set it aside when he wasn't suffering at the Dursley's. That had always made Voldemort seem so much more real.

Now, having graduated and started a business with Draco and Theo and now living in a place much more— or rather less— having to do with his godfather's interest in the female persuasion, he had a better idea why people were so easily dismissive of Voldemort's return and why the Dark Lord had always been so sinister.

People believed what was in front of them, and Voldemort worked in the background under the cover of so many mirrors and even more smoke. Moody had been teaching him a lot of things, and despite being a different species, he was still the Auror at heart. He never stopped being vigilant (or disgruntled) but he had a lot more passion for life now that Tova was around to whip him into shape and counter his cynical outlook with the smoothness of a healer.

"Helps that he's mating with Lady Tova too," Naseem said, having read his thoughts as expertly as a Legilimens.

Harry choked, grabbing for the glass of water on his bedside table and drinking it. Yeah… that too.

The serpentlets were doing loop-de-loops as they seemed to pick through his brain looking for tidbits that were interesting. What that was, however, seemed strangely alien. They didn't ask, but he knew they really didn't know better. Babies wanted to know, so they dug around until they found it. It never hurt him, having them shuffling around in his brain case, unlike when Severus had tried to teach him Occlumency. That was his own fault, he realised. He'd fought the man at every turn. It hadn't been until he almost got Sirius killed after specifically ignoring Hermione's warning to check Grimmauld personally before trusting the word of Kreacher that he realised he'd been putting his faith in something that didn't deserve it.

His hatred and mistrust for his father's hater— the only person who seemed to hate his father's memory— had even tainted his ability to trust Hermione, who he could at least admit he'd given the shaft in many ways he shouldn't have. Trusting Ron over Hermione was one regret he carried to this day. Ron had proven himself, and so, too, had his sister, by following the ways of Lucius Malfoy and bookified themselves.

Not the good kind, either.

PurrrRRRrrrRrrrrrr.

Pitch rubbed up against his hand, informing him that his subconscious petting had stopped, and she'd prefer it continue.

He patted the friendly book with affection, lifting her up to kiss her cover. She projected a clutter of furry hearts at him, cooing like a tribble.

Naseem yawned toothily into his face, projecting laziness. He seemed to think that today was a lie in day, and Harry had interrupted by having scar pain.

Harry frowned and picked up the sleepy Raina, running his hand over her obsidian scales. "Could you ask Severus to see me, love?"

The serpentlet yawned, chomping his nose sleepily, carefully gumming his nostrils. "Okay, Uncle Harry, but no yelling at my heartmate!"

Harry smiled sheepishly. "I promise I don't intent to."

Raina eyed him suspiciously, gnaws on his nose some more, and poofed in a cloud of cosmic plasma.

As Voldemort and Bellatrix set foot on the island they were greeted by a whole lot of— nothing.

The island was silent, with only the rustle of trees and shrubs.

"Safest place in all of Gringotts?" Bella questioned, eyes narrowing at the goblin, but the goblin swayed back and forth as he stood on the floating boat, eyes glazed.

Voldemort's lips turned into a sneer as he pointed the wand at the goblin. "Get off that boat and show us the safest place."

The goblin teetered, and stepped off the boat, but the moment his feet touched the growing ground, he vanished with a crack.

"What?!" Bellatrix pointed her wand at everything and nothing at once. "What trickery is this?"

"Nagini," Voldemort said, banishing the spell upon her so she was visible. "Go… play."

The huge serpent hissed and took off into the brush without hesitation.

The temple loomed over them from afar, and Voldemort narrowed his eyes. There was a sense of something— something of his— wriggling in that direction, familiar but unknown.

The goblin's disappearance was annoying, but he wasn't sure what to make of it. Perhaps, there was some spell upon the grounds to prevent goblins from entering certain unauthorised areas to prevent them from tampering with the goods. Yet—

Why were they not affected?

Voldemort frowned. He did not like unknowns. Nagini, however, would see to it that he knew more and take care of any little annoyances like security guards. A little death would probably have the goblins doing everything they could to lock the place down even more, and that was exactly what he wanted— after he planted his Horcruxes.

As much as he liked Nagini— this seemed like the perfect place for her to dwell. She could be both guard and the guarded. It would be perfect. After that meddlesome Dumbledore destroyed his ring and his diadem. Always thinking himself one step ahead again. So, now he had to move them where that bloody do-gooder wouldn't find them.

Worse, at least while Potter was in school, he knew exactly where he was, but something had destroyed that plan. He'd lost him after he'd moved out of the Dursley's horrible little sanctuary into Black's piece of dirt house. He'd read about him in the papers opening that Brewery with Nott and Malfoy's little brats. After Lucius had gone off and gotten himself robbed off his entire fortune, his fair-weather bride had left England and Draco— the brat— had cut him off from his substantial funds to influence and get what he needed done greasing the wheels of the Ministry. He still had the other families, but Malfoy's had been the most significant.

As much as he loathed to admit it, Lucius had been critical in face-to-face persuasion that didn't involve fear of the Dark Lord. It was much easier to persuade with honey and wealth and a pretty face— something he hadn't had since he started making Horcruxes.

It was a small price to pay for immortality, and he planned on keeping it— especially now that Dumbledore had shown his hand in destroying them. That meant he knew about them. Fortunately, knowing the old coot, he was probably keeping the whole thing hush-hush, which only worked to further his own aims in the end. The old man always thought he knew better than everyone else. That would be his downfall; he never relied on anyone else enough to tell them the whole story. His little phoenixes would run around blind to curry his favour, thinking the old man knew all, but he didn't.

Meanwhile, his best and most loyal ended up paranoid, broken, or going mad— or all of the above. Voldemort smiled. Just like the Longbottoms.

Just like the Potters— except for that damnable brat.

However, that would be remedied soon enough. First things first, however. He had to find a new place for the goblet. The Lestrange vault was too easily accessed for his taste— perhaps too predictable for Dumbledore. Yet this place seemed perfect. He'd never even heard of it, yet part of him seemed to recall some sort of drivel printed by that quack, Xenophilius Lovegood. Something about sun and moon snakes. Well, he commanded snakes, so he had no fear of them.

Everyone knew that the things Xenophilius wrote was complete nonsense. He'd never been right in the head after his wife killed herself in front of her own daughter— or rather died throwing herself in front of something her daughter had set loose. Not that it mattered as the end result was the same. Xenophilius went more than a little mad, creating all these imaginary creatures that seemed to have escaped a magical box that had been sealed by the gods— creatures that to this day he pursued, having taught his daughter about them all.

Maybe he should tell the precious little flower the truth about how she killed her mother. Yes. That would be perfect. He'd make her cry, drive her mad— just like he had to another certain someone. Then, he'd make her drink that special potion so she'd kiss his feet forever. He'd set her loose on— yes! He'd set her loose on Harry Potter. Either she'd kill him, or he'd kill her. Either way pleased him. Either possibility amused him.

If she lived, he'd kill her in front of the other Death Eaters for daring to defy his orders not to kill Potter. They would all be properly reminded of their place. That pleased him.

He'd have to torture Xenophilius to find out where the chit was, though. No matter. He did so enjoy the process. It was one of the few things that truly moved his heart. Everything else seemed so stagnant. Even Bellatrix bored him anymore. Once his corruption of her had been accomplished, she was no longer amusing. Now she just fawned over him with blind adoration. Bah. Boring.

"Bella," he hissed.

Her head popped up, her eyes adoring and vacant.

"Go find us something to play with."

"Yes, my Lord!" she cooed, petting his robes and taking off down the path toward the rising pyramid beyond.

He could feel the magic coming from it— and he wanted to know where it came from.

Cloaking himself in a Disillusionment spell, he began to walk the path towards the lure of power.

Bellatrix felt like she wasn't going anywhere fast. Literally. It was like she was stuck in place. Things were moving, but strangely, the temple never got any closer. She eyed the pathway, perhaps wondering if it was enchanted to move in place while never allowing anyone to get closer. She tried to break off the path and move through the brush, but she ended up back at the path.

The path that kept leading to nowhere fast.

Irritated that she was not doing what her lord desired of her, she pulled out her wand and started to hack away at the dense flora and blaze her own path through the jungle foliage. Yet, when she turned around, the growth had already grown back.

What the…?!

She started to run blindly, and for a moment, the temple seemed to get closer, but then her foot caught on a jungle vine, and she tripped.

SPLAT.

She greeted the ground with her face, and her wand went flying into the fountain with a sploosh.

Fountain?

Her face hurt.

Her hands hurt.

Her entire body hurt.

"Rrrrr?"

"RrrRrrr?"

Squeak. Boing. Squeak. Boing. Boing. Boing.

Bella blinked as a small, grey, pink dappled book stared back at her. It cooed softly, rubbing up against her face. It— was not alone.

She blinked.

It blinked.

The little books seemed to have a conference of squeaking, tiny, furry question marks forming on their covers.

The grey book seemed to make a decision and cuddled up to her face, cooing.

Bellatrix quickly rolled up into a sitting position, grabbing the book tightly in her hand, her fingers clenching as anger filled her, chased by a wave of blind hatred.

The book's crystalline eyes widened and it gave a soft, sad, piteous squeak.

Suddenly, her fingers loosened, and she stared down at it, confused.

"Find yourself a little furry friend, Bellatrix?" Her father towered over her, his face twisted in disgust. "Weakness!" he sneered, his fingers choking the life out from the baby Crup. Its tiny body squirmed as it whined and yipped in fear, peeing over her father's arm. That made it worse, and her father slammed the terrified pup against the wall with a sharp crack, and the pup let out one last terrified yelp and went limp.

"No daughter of mine will be weak."

Little Bella was crying, cradling the dying Crup puppy in her lap.

He grabbed her, yanking her up by a handful of her jet black curls. "No daughter of mine will EVER be one of those pitiful, bleeding heart emotional wretches! My daughters will OBEY!"

He yanked the dying puppy from her hands and flung it out the open window. "You will NEVER bring home any pitiful creature again," her father hissed into her face. "Do I make myself clear?"

She sobbed, crying.

SLAP!

"DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR!?"

Bella whimpered but she nodded. "Yes."

"Yes WHAT?"

"Yes, my lord father! I will never bring anything home ever again!"

Her sisters were staring at her from between the stair railings above, their faces twisted in horror.

"See that you don't," her father said.

"A drink, my dear?"

The well-dressed man gave her a strange sort of smile as he handed her the glass.

She looked around, scared that her father might be watching.

"Don't worry about him. He's talking to the Minister," the man said. "Such a lovely and talented witch shouldn't be hiding away in this old manse."

Bella perked. She hadn't expected that response from him. Most of the wizards her father allowed around were traditional and wanted their witches to be seen and not heard— well, correction— not so much traditional as expected. Bella had read stories about the old witches, so powerful and wise, leaders of their communities. Then, her father had caught her and threw the book into the fire.

This new wizard intrigued her, and she looked around to see if her father was watching and then drank the offered drink. It filled her up with an odd heat. It filled her veins, her eyes, her head. Her body trembled; the glass went crashing down to the floor. Anger filled her. Hatred. Disgust. Her fists clenched. Her body tensed. It flowed over her, driving her back into her own mind as it replaced her.

What?

No!

She felt herself look up and take the wizard's arm. "My Lord," she cooed.

"I think there are other places we want to be, doesn't you think, Bella?"

"Of course, my Lord." No! Why can't I move! Why can't I— Help! No!

"Bella!" there was a tug on her arm. "Come meet our new friends with us." Andromeda tugged on her, smiling.

Bellatrix felt her arm yank back as her voice hissed, "Get away from me you Mudblood-loving freak!"

Andromeda's eyes widened in fear just before the loud stomping of their father stormed over.

"What?" he hissed, grabbing her older sister by the collar.

Bella's face twisted into a cruel, satisfied smile.

Bellatrix trembled as the booklet in her hands squeaked sadly to her sudden abuse, but her fingers unclenched as horror filled her. Memories flooded back. The grey and pink-dappled book shuffled under her hand again, nudging under it as a cat would seek pets.

Despite everything.

Despite what she had done.

It cooed at her hopefully.

Bella's hand stroked the soft fur, her eyes losing the wild insanity that had clung to her for well over two decades.

The book stared up at her, cooing.

Bella stared back into its crystalline eyes, watching as a small furry heart drifted over its cover.

"Hi," she said, voice missing that tremulous note of instability. Instead, it was replaced with an almost shy wonder.

A horde of booklets hopped into her lap, cooing and begging for pets, and Bella pressed her face into their soft fur, tears flowing down her face.

There was a heated rush of magic and an indignant scream as a dark mass of oily black cloud rose off her body, even as it clawed at her, trying to fight its way back into her. The booklets snarled and snapped at it, crystalline teeth bared as they leapt to her defense. Their fur stood on end as they bounced, snapped and snarled at the swirling cloud of hateful magic.

Yet, even though the brave little books did their best, Bella screamed as her arm felt like it was on fire. Seething anger and hate threatened to rip her to pieces from the inside unless she submitted and allowed that cloud of evil back into her.

No!

Agony— pain like the Cruciatus only so much more— tore through her.

No! Not again. No!

The more she fought, the more painful it became.

Fwoop.

"Oh, hi Miss Bella," a cheerful voice said. A grey and silver serpent with rose-coloured eyes stared at her. Orange and crimson belly scales shimmered in the sun. Whitish-blue wings held her aloft as her strangely rebellious rainbow-coloured tail swished back and forth. "You're a little late. This might hurt a bit, but you'll feel better soon!"

"We think," a moonstone coloured serpent said, doing a loop-de-loop.

"Maybe," a scarlet and gold serpent said, her sky blue eyes whirling.

"This is going to taste vile," an emerald serpent said, his honey-coloured wings beating softly to hold him in place.

Suddenly, the serpentlets struck, sinking their teeth into her arm, right into the Dark Mark. White strands of light filled every vein and artery in Bella's arm. The dark cloud screamed and attempted to dislodge the serpentlets, only to have the parts that touched them become consumed in their radiance. The rest of the cloud tried to escape, fleeing—

"Hnnnnnnnnnnnngh."

"Hgnnnnnnnnnnnnh."

The serpentlets hummed in tune with their parents, and the white radiance of faith poured from their bodies and shot out to spear the fleeing cloud straight through the middle. The power drove the black tar from Bella's arm as it hissed and writhed.

Suddenly, the black tar jumped into the little grey and pink-spotted book, surrounding it, devouring it, corrupting it until it looked larger, darker, and slime dripped from its cover. It snarled viciously and leapt towards Bella's face, fangs glinting.

Bella's arms wrapped around the evil book, pulling it to her bosom and she pressed her face to the cover. "Fight it," she said, pinning it as it struggled to snap at her. "Fight it," she said.

The corrupted book's eyes began to clear, black replaced by soft pink again.

CHOMP!

The other books assisted by biting the other book, driving the blackness away.

The grey returned to the infected book, the healthier pink spots returned to its cover, and golden letters flowed across the cover: Phew! Corruption Averted.

The other booklets had different titles.

Teamwork is the Best!

Nothing Sharp Teeth Can't Handle!

Book Power: It Goes to Eleven!

Incorruptible: Love Conquers All!

Wij zijn schattig en jij niet! (We're Cute and You're Not!)

The books cooed and purred at Bella as she hugged the grey book tight against her chest. The serpentlets released her arm, spitting onto the ground as if to get rid of the foul taste in their mouths.

"Time to go!"

"Yup!"

"Three."

"Two."

"One."

"Contact!"

The serpentlets covered Bella and the booklets.

Fwooom!

They disappeared in a cloud of cosmic plasma.

A purple booklet hopped out of the fountain, dripping wet, a wand clutched between its pages. It looked around, eyes widening in panic, squeaking in distress.

Fwoop!

"Oh there you are, Lilac!" Naseem grabbed the booklet between his teeth ever so gently and disappeared with it in a cloud of cosmic vapour.

...Just as Nagini's teeth clacked through empty air as the snake slammed into the fountain.

"I wouldn't, if I were you," a silken voice said from beside the fire.

"You! Where is Bellatrix?"

"Not even a hello? So much for all those manners that once so sweetly lured so many to their binding to your cause," the figure replied. He had the hood of his cloak pulled over his head, obscuring him from identification.

Voldemort hissed lowly, casting a spell that tore the cloak away to expose—

An annoyed-looking man with cobalt skin and smoldering crimson eyes. He pulled his spear to him and stood.

"Severus," Voldemort hissed. "You're looking quite blue."

"I find it quite fetching, My. Lord," he drawled the last words and elongated them. "Blue is the new you, as I've been told."

"You haven't been responding to summons," Voldemort accused.

"I fear I didn't get the memo," Severus replied. "My dance card has been quite full."

"Ever since you took that Mudblood brat under your wing, you have been defying me at every opportunity!"

"That witch is my daughter, and she is as far from what you think of her as a sun to a torch," Severus said. "I feel, for old time's sake, I must warn you to go no further, lest you find out exactly what she is."

"Dead, Severus," Voldemort said, blasting Severus full-on with a spell of his own making, sending him tumbling into the jungle brush. "Dead is what she'll be, and I will come back for your traitorous hide."

Voldemort stormed up the temple steps to where power awaited him.

He did not notice Severus brushing the weeds and jungle litter off himself. The Jötunn's eyes glowed softly. "Your funeral, my Lord," he said.

Voldemort stood in a beautiful garden, surrounded in enormous topiaries of dragons and what appeared to be giants wielding spears and shields. There was a mirror-like pond with an ornate fountain depicting hippocampi and what appeared to be some sort of monstrous whale. The pond seemed to be separated into sections, and silvery fish with scarlet bellies schooled in the middle.

He glowered across the peaceful landscape. Where were all the people?

Were they all cowering somewhere in the dark? Like vermin?

Nagini must have driven them all away. Odd that she didn't share her kill with him. That was her way, usually. He extended his senses out to feel for her mind, thoughts, and location— only to be met with a hiss of pure frustration and her rushed movement past vegetation, rocks, and statuary. He pulled out, finding the movement distasteful. He much preferred to watch Nagini ambush things with a lightning strike than this, this— utter chaos.

She obviously had something she was chasing, but whatever it was, he couldn't tell. She was obviously very determined to catch it. Her rage was as pure as her hate. It's what he loved about her— as close to love as he could get, that is. He imagined it was a form of love anyway. That heat. That strange stirring of the heart. Sure it was love if it moved him at all. The only other thing that moved him was the writhing torture of his minions as they grovelled or the writhing screaming torture of Muggles who deserved it more. Muggles were the only things that deserved every bit of torture he could dish out. Muggles and purebloods who thought themselves better than him— better than everyone.

But he showed them.

Nearby, there was an abandoned stand with trays of hors d'oeuvres and drinks. He plucked a drink up from the tray and sniffed it, and it smelled of ripe berries. His lip curled, but some strange curiosity remained. He tasted it, just enough for it to touch his tastebuds, eyes narrowing as it tasted not of berries but some unfamiliar herbal concoction.

What trickery was this?

His hand passed over the hors d'oeuvres, feeling the magic of a stasis charm mixed with an odd cold charm that seemed to emanate from the counter itself. He poked the purple appetiser with his finger, eyes narrowing. He lifted one and nibbled the end. It was strangely buttery, light, and— rather pleasant. His eyes narrowed and he flung the entire tray of drinks and food into the dirt.

He scoffed, using his magic to burn the topiaries and uproot the manicured foliage.

Disgustingly in order. Just like the flawless hedges at Riddle Manor.

Even after his father's death, the old groundskeeper kept at it— some contract that fed quid into the old man's bank account long after his father's bones were buried. It was disgusting. Pathetic.

He stormed up the stairs of the great pyramid, his bare feet scraping across the stone with a dry scratching sound. It was time to put an end to the hiding. This tropical paradise.

Where the hell was Bellatrix? He needed her to summon the rest of his eager murderers. He dug a nail into his skin, causing his blood to pool. He flicked it into the air, casting his spell to tighten the binding around Bellatrix and bring her to heel.

Nothing.

No tug of her response. No hint of her eagerness.

He looked up towards the apex of the pyramid, thinking that the great power he felt could be messing with his senses. No matter. There were more than one way to skin a Kneazle, after all.

He stormed up the stairs only to find the stairs smoothed themselves out, disappearing into a smooth, mirror like surface. He fell, clawing at the surface, trying to stay in place, but he made a squeegee sound as he slid all the way back down to the bottom and into the giant topiary of a hippogriff. The nearby fountain hippocampus, however, whinnied and reaimed water directly onto his head.

Voldemort sputtered and pulled himself out, blasting the fountain with his wand, and the fountain creatures gave distressed whinnies and cries as they burst into pieces.

"That wasn't very nice," Bellatrix said.

Voldemort spun, pointing his wand at her. "Where have you been?"

"Detained," she replied in a sing-song voice. On her lap was a large tome— with eyes half-lidded as she stroked its— fur?

The tome yawned toothily like a lion, showing a full set of crystalline teeth, ending with a soft squeak of pleasure as her hand caressed its cover.

Darklords Are Dumb.

Voldemort scowled. "Bella, destroy that thing."

"But I don't want to," she replied, her face pulling into a pout— that oh so familiar pout that usually came before she Crucioed someone.

Voldemort pointed his wand at the creature and sneered, setting it on fire.

The book screamed, tearing off the green to jump into the pond.

Bellatrix' face twisted into something dark and malicious. "That was a mistake."

"Give me your arm, Bellatrix!" Voldemort commanded.

She thrust out her arm.

"The OTHER arm, you idiot! What is wrong with you?"

Bellatrix put out her other arm with a sulk like a small child, singing some sort of nursery rhyme.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Voldemort hissed, stabbing his wand into her arm. There, where the Dark Mark was supposed to be was a tattoo— of an insufferably cute Kneazle kitten. The kitten moved down her arm and batted at the wand.

"She likes you," Bellatrix sang. Her voice grew serious. "Not that she should. We warn her about flirting with Dark Lords. But kittens— what can you do? They do what they want."

Incensed, Voldemort thrust his wand into her neck. "Crucio."

Bellatrix's body writhed on the ground in front of him, causing him to smile.

"Having fun, eh?"

Voldemort turned to see Bellatrix staring at him. He looked down at the one he'd been torturing only to see a disturbingly lifelike blowup doll. He whirled wrapping his fingers around Bellatrix' throat. "I grow tired of your tricks, Bellatrix." His grip tightened around her throat.

RrrrRrrRrrrrrrrCHOMP.

Voldemort looked down to find the singed tome gnawing on his ankle, giving him a hundred and one papercuts and slathering his feet with book paste. He snarled, ripping his ankle out of its grip and smashing his foot down on the tome.

The tome wriggled, eyes bugging out, slathering book paste.

A horde of small booklets streamed in from the side, pouncing on the Dark Lord with gusto, their tiny crystalline teeth bared to sink into his bare feet.

Voldemort yelled, taking out his wand and slicing and setting fire, finally deciding that fire was definitely the best option, and he started to cast a nice, lovely Fiendfyre—

KrackacrackaBOOM!

Lightning hit the top of the pyramid.

WHIRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRRRTHUNK!

A giant hammer slammed into Voldemort's face, breaking every bone in his face. Venomous Tentacula seedlings, having hitched a ride on their babysitter, swarmed over Voldemort's body, biting everything they could get their venomous beaks into.

"Come on, Harry, this way! While he's down!" A bushy-haired girl was dragging a black-haired boy by the sleeve.

Voldemort raged, flinging off the attacks as he saw Harry Potter disappear into a swirling portal along with some gi—

Snape's daughter.

His face turned strangely gleeful as he realised both things he wanted dead had gone to the same place with the door right open. He threw himself forward, throwing Bellatrix in front of him to take the brunt of anything that might come at him as he went through.

The portal pulsed as they hit the surface and were sucked in, throwing them to the other side.

The remaining books threw themselves into the pond, fizzling as the flames went out.

A black and white haired woman ran down the reformed steps of the temple. "Oh no! Are you okay?" In her arms was a fluffy grey tome with pink spots.

The other books hopped out of the water and shook themselves off, looking a little wrinkled and water-logged. They bounce-squished to her and toppled her over, nuzzling and squeaking, sending out a thrumming purr.

"Ye shouldna be here, lass," Moody said as he moved down the steps, spear in one hand, wand in the other.

Bella's eyes were wide. "Where does that portal go?"

Thor picked up Mjölnir and plucked some of the singed Tentaculas out of the pond. "Jötunheimr."

Bella mouthed the word, stumbling over its alienness.

Severus stepped out of the foliage and sniffed. "I wouldn't worry too much. Where he just went, his problems will see very small in comparison to… everything."

"Can't he just come back through?" Bella asked.

THUMP.

Laufey's lips curled back into a grimace as he threw down the large carcass of a giant snake with a spear through her cranium. "Only the blessed of the Great Frost Mother can walk through the other side. She decides who worthy and who is not."

Bella's eyes grew even wider as she realised Laufey was a giant. Literally.

"Grandfather king killed the snake!"

"She was mean!"

"Really mean!"

"She tried to eat us!"

"But we were quick!"

The serpentlets did loop-de-loops in the air and took turns glomping their grandfather with affection.

Laufey's crimson eyes burned. "No one messes with my grandchildren."

"Hello, Tom Riddle," a voice that seemed to embody ice and snow said.

The Dark Lord found himself standing on a snowfield with nothing but snow and more snow as far as the eye could see. The cold chilled him to the bone, cutting through his robes as easily as a hot knife through butter.

There was a woman in front of him, unlike any woman he had ever seen. Her body was seemingly sculpted from ice. White tresses of long hair strangely like woven frost.

"You have come a long way to reach the end," she said, her voice like a whisper of a thousand voices overlapping.

"Who are you?" Voldemort demanded, pointing his wand at her. "What trickery is this?"

"Here you are— but a guest unto the lands of my making, and you dare point such a primitive thing as that to me in threat?" The woman closed her eyes, and when she reopened them, they were like shining rubies.

It was then, and only then, that Voldemort realised she wasn't standing at all. She was floating above the ice.

"They tell me that you are a very horrible person, Tom Riddle," the woman said, brushing her hair back from her face to expose a bony crown-like crest of icy horns. "You torture even those that ally with you. That is hardly a way to guarantee the love of your people."

"Love? What kind of pathetic concept is love? I do not need love to bend my people to my cause. All I need is power." He scowled at the floating woman. "You think because you float above the ground that this somehow makes you special? You think because someone loves you that it gives you more power than I have? You would be wrong!"

"Tell me, Tom," she answered him, her head slowly moving as if she was looking at something bigger just behind him. "How do you intend to survive this place, let alone challenge the things that make it home?"

"The cold is nothing," he replied, sneering as he negligently waved his wand to perform a warming charm.

The woman's lips quirked as she watched his face contort as he realised the warming charm was— woefully inadequate for his current needs.

"You have foolishly bound yourself to things you do not understand, Tom," the woman said. "First to a snake of Miðgarðr, whose blood went into your remaking. Second to a unicorn, whose purity is so great that the harvesting of its blood corrupts whatever spell of life due to its violent death. Then, you created your flesh on the bones of one already dead, binding it with the hand of one who feared death so much that losing a hand seemed a better choice."

She floated closer. "And you now fear death, don't you, Tom? You always have, only now it's even greater. Even more— under your skin. Just as the snake has corrupted your body."

She narrowed her eyes. "Yet there was one more thing, hrm? Blood of the enemy forcefully taken."

"Are you quite through with your tiresome parlour tricks? Telling me about my own magic? I am well aware of what went into my rebirth, but I am forever. I will live eternal!"

The woman's lips twitched. "Eternal life is a long responsibility. Even some gods cannot survive that wholly intact."

"I am a god," Voldemort hissed, his red eyes blazing.

"Many have come to this place claiming the same. One such haunts the snows, forever wallowing in the price of his arrogance. They say that in the wind you can still hear his screams."

"You do not scare me, witch," Voldemort seethed. "You may have twisted your appearance as I have created mine, but you are just another being whose magic I will defeat and devour."

"You may try, Tom," the woman said, her voice like a soft footfall on freshly fallen snow. "This Realm is of my creation. And you—"

Her lips curved into a cruel smile. "You were an offering unto me, delivered by the faithful, some new, some old, and some who are also gods."

"I am no one's offering!" Voldemort roared.

The woman's hair whipped around her face like writhing snakes. She pulled two items out from her flowing vestments.

A cup.

A locket.

"I took the liberty of relieving you of your cargo," she said. "And this horrible creature had that quite interesting locket around her neck." The snows parted to reveal a bright pink walrus-looking creature with a pair of twisted tusks. "Don't recognise her? It is her true self— though I did make a few improvements. She is self-impregnating, and she will provide food for my hungry faithful for— well, for as long as Jötunheimr remains." The woman's eyes burned brightly. "She is also immortal— just as you wish to be. While her flesh is probably as foul as her soul, her offspring however— well, not so much. They say that through the children, ye shall be redeemed."

"I am forever!" Voldemort yelled, barely able to make himself heard over the roar of the howling winds.

"Are you sure about that?"

The snows parted as a dark-haired wizard walked between a bushy-haired witch and a man dressed in ornate armour. An elegant and over the top horned helm adorned his head as a cape fluttered behind him. The witch had feathers in her hair, making it look like a bunch of parrots had donated and tried to make a nest.

"Through my blood you were remade," Harry said, his face twisted with determination. He pointed his wand to his hand. "Through it you will be unmade." He cast a slicing hex on himself, and blood dripped from his hand, but before he could do anything further, Voldemort took action.

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort hissed, sending a sickly green beam towards Harry that struck him directly in the chest, his crimson blood pooling around his hand and staining the pristine snow.

Voldemort laughed maniacally, summoning his Horcruxes to himself.

The bushy haired witch began to sway, and the man followed. Their arms crossed against their chests as their shoulders flexed. Bones shifted. Scales rippled. Arms twisted into wings.

"Hnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnngggghhhh!" the female sang.

"Hhhhggggnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnh!" the male answered in perfect harmony.

A bright pulse of blue energy novaed out from their bodies as Harry's body floated in the air, arms spread out like a crucifix. Brightly coloured scales and rainbow feathers mixed in sunlight wove between darkest blue of the midnight sky and the black and blue feathers that would have made any parrot envious. Light and dark scales brushed against each other as the beat of sunlit wings met mooncast ones.

Fwoom.

A circle of frost and snow swirled around Harry, carrying his blood into the air in red-stained crystals of ice. The woman clenched her fist and then flung her fingers open and outward, and shards of crimson shot out and embedded into the goblet and the locket.

Screams of agony came from the man who was the Dark Lord Voldemort, but also from the soul fragments that had embedded into each object. Black clouds of vile soul-tar billowed from each— and Harry's forehead. It swirled together in a huge cyclone of black.

As the huge serpents seemed to get larger, so, too, did the woman. Her arms outstretched as she towered above them, enough to lightly lay her hands upon their feathered crests. Energy shot out from their combined strength, shooting into the cloud of corrupted soul, and the blackness was purified into a bright light. That burst into a shower of golden seeds that spread across the frozen landscape.

Each seed sank into the frozen ground and ice-glazed trunks rose from each spot in a hurried frenzy of growth. Great white-blue trunks formed into a canopy of ice-blue leaves as giant, crystalline fruit hung from the branches. Under the canopy, other seeds from the shower grew as well, forming blue, leafy plants seemingly carved out of the very ice. They swayed in the wind, tinkling gently like windchimes.

As the frozen forest rose around them, Voldemort was having other problems. His pale skin was sprouting fur and his teeth were falling out. His red eyes were turning to gems as his body began to feel the effects of the bite from a brassed off baby booklet. His screams of fury were turning into a strange rattle of pages, and he frothed book paste from his toothless maw. Elegant golden lettering wrote and slowly spread across his spine and top cover:

Tom Marvolo Riddle: Dark Lord on the Half Shell.

Voldemort wheezed as his transformation into a book seemed to have completed, but then his tortured body jerked and twisted again, forming him into furry giant oyster. Oddly, the golden letters remained on the hinge of the oyster, where the book spine would have been.

The Great Frost Mother looked down at the overgrown frost oyster and admired her handywork mixed with the "curse" of the angry booklet. "I'm so glad you're immortal. For as long as you live, you shall seed the oceans with your delicious progeny for my faithful. And, like the monster of a woman before you, you shall not need another to ensure this comes to pass.

The fat (furry) oyster trembled in impotent rage as both sperm and eggs released into the frozen water the goddess placed him in, sticking him against a reef some distance from the rocky shore to start his own oyster bed.

Meanwhile, the baffled-looking pink walrus-creature spontaneously gave birth to a "pup", the first of many.

The two feathered serpents eyed the walrus-creature and the furry oyster and hummed a soft song. They carefully nosed Harry, and he groggily sat up in the snow and grunted. "Did it work?" he asked blearily, rubbing his eyes as he massaged his hand which was pristine, must to his surprise.

The Great Frost Mother, who had taken on a more human size, wrapped a cloak of pristine seal-fur around a shivering Harry. "You are free, Harry Potter. Free to live your life without fear of becoming someone else." Her finger touched the cloak, and Harry's shivering ended almost instantly as a decadent warmth spread through his entire body in seconds.

Harry, his face filled with emotion, pulled something out from his robes. "Great Frost Mother, I have no hunt in which to give you, but I can give you this— something I have held close to my heart for many long years."

He held out the golden snitch he had almost swallowed so long ago.

The Great Frost Mother closed her hand over his, closing his fingers. "Keep your token, Harry Potter. One day, when you are a hunter, leave your first kill for me. That will be enough."

"But, I am not a hunter," Harry protested.

The Great Frost Mother just smiled. "You will be."

With that, she walked backwards into the ice floes and fell backwards into the frozen sea. Moments later, the great seawolf whale rose and breached, her enormous body slamming into the frozen sea and then disappearing from sight.

Harry's jaw dropped. "Wow."

Hermione and Loki hummed softly, wrapping their tails around Harry and dragging him back towards the portal— to home.

A/N: Next up the conclusion of Mischief Managed

(Spider brigade whispering) Will there be spiders?

There should totally be spiders.

Wait, they eat spiders!

Only the huge, angry, homicidal ones!

Oh, phew. That's good then. We're too cute to be eaten!

True!

We should tuck in the author.

Also true! Let's go before she QWERTYfaces.

*drags off author to bed*