Notes: Last of the pre-written chapters- in which things get a great deal worse before they can get better. Also, as promised to some readers, more about owls.
Warnings: There are people who, when they are angry at themselves, may appear to be angry at someone else. This may apply to some of the people in Loki's life. This is not to say that anyone in this chapter is handling things very well, and that includes Loki.
(There have been a few excellent questions asked on , but because the person asking wasn't logged in, I had no way to reply to them privately. I hope those questions will be answered by the story!)
Chapter Three
The next few weeks were the worst of Loki's life. All his excitement about Hogwarts turned into dread, the conviction that he would be revealed as evil, as Dark, as just like his parents. He would think about Annie's friendliness and feel sick, because if she knew what he was she would never want to be his friend. Finally, he knew why he didn't have friends: because he didn't deserve any.
For the rest of July, and the first part of August, he hardly slept at all. It became nearly impossible to make himself get out of bed in the mornings. Thor teased him for being lazy, but it was hard to be bright in the morning when you had lain awake most of the night before, staring at the ceiling and jumping at shadows and worrying about everything.
Sometimes he did fall asleep, and that was even worse: he would dream of the Sorting Hat shrieking, "Slytherin!" and his brother and father and mother, and Annie and the blond boy and the short one from the shop, and everyone, turning their backs on him. And then the Slytherins would say they didn't want him either, and he would be left alone in the middle of the Great Hall, with the Sorting Hat jeering on his head and everybody laughing at him.
Other times, he dreamed that he had done something else evil, without meaning to, and he was being dragged away to Azkaban. He would struggle, and cry, and beg for another chance, but Mum would look sad and shake her head, and Dad would be unyielding. Thor's friends would be there, too, sneering that they knew it all along.
Those dreams always ended with Loki cringing in the corner of a dark cell, and then in the blackness there would be voices, rusty with disuse, saying, "We have been waiting for you to come to us, our own son. We always knew you would."
Loki would jerk awake, wringing wet with sweat and tears, usually with his fist or his pillow stuffed into his mouth to muffle his screams.
After a while he just sat up at night until the window got light, stiff with terror of what might be in the room with him, but far more afraid to go to sleep. As soon as the sky was light he would lie down and try to sleep for a little while before someone called him for breakfast. In the afternoons he would pretend he wanted to read his new schoolbooks, but he was really hiding in his room trying to sleep while it was light. He had never liked the shadows in his room at night, but now he was as afraid of the dark as he had been as a baby.
He didn't touch the new schoolbooks at all, not for weeks. The books, and supplies, and the wand- all of them were piled on the writing surface of his desk, and he tried not to look at them for fear of having the Slytherin dream again.
Loki thought at first he would go mad, but it turned out it was impossible to live at such a pitch of terror and apprehension forever. By the middle of August, when Thor had his fourteenth birthday, Loki was almost used to the weight of fear in his belly, and he was so tired he was beginning to fall asleep again at night, sometimes without dreaming at all.
Mum took him to Diagon Alley, just the two of them, to find a birthday present for Thor. Once, not very long ago, Loki would have tried to take advantage of that. He would have tried to talk to her about his worries, and ask her to reassure him that everything really would be all right at Hogwarts. Now he knew there was nothing anyone could do, and anyway you didn't need to know very much about Dark magic to know selfishness was a big part of it. He was very careful to talk and think only about Thor's present and Thor's birthday.
Loki remembered the beautiful magic paint set his brother had given him for his birthday. He wanted to show his gratitude with a set of Puddlemere United robes, this being Thor's favourite Quidditch team, except he didn't have enough money. He had counted up all his savings and was trying to choose something that cost only that much, but Mum stopped him.
"You don't have to spend every Knut you have on your brother's gift," she said, looking worried. "Here, look, it's a diary with a picture of a Puddlemere United player on every page. He can keep track of his schoolwork if he wants, or his Quidditch training and results. I'm sure he'll like it."
Loki looked at the Quidditch players zooming around on the pages, and wavered.
"But those paints- " he protested.
"- Cost less than a Galleon for the set. Ten Sickles, I think it was. It was a lovely gift, but it wasn't an expensive one." Loki felt deflated- no matter how hard he tried, he still got it all wrong- and Mum looked worried again. "All right. Since we're here, is there anywhere you'd like to go? Anything you'd like to look at, or buy for yourself?"
Loki desperately wanted to ask his mother to come to Eeylops to see if his- if the- short-eared owl was still there, but luckily he recognized the trap before he could fall into it. He pushed away the flare of selfishness and shook his head.
Anyway, an owl as beautiful as that must have been bought by now. He tried to hope she had been, that someone nice had bought her and she had the kind of owner she deserved.
He also refused his mother's offer of an ice cream- it wasn't fair, if Thor wasn't here to have one too, and he had to be very careful to be fair- and finally she did some shopping of her own, Loki following along to carry parcels, and they came home again.
Thor had a wonderful birthday. All his best friends came for the day, and he got the broomstick he wanted so much, the newest model Lightning Bolt. Loki was glad for him. He didn't get in the way during Thor's party- he went straight to his room when the guests started to arrive, and didn't come out until Dad cast a concealing spell on the garden and took Thor and his friends out to try the new broomstick.
Loki crept down to the kitchen then, to eat a slice of cake, but went right back to his room afterward and watched the fun through the window. Just before bedtime, Thor came to thank him for the diary, and tell Loki he had packed it in his school trunk, to take to Hogwarts on the first of September.
In spite of himself, Loki started to hope again as the weeks wound down. He was being good this summer, good as anything. He didn't fight with Thor at all. He helped Bindi in the kitchen and with the housework any way he could. He obeyed his parents without hesitation or question. He did everything he could think of to not be Dark after all. He didn't let himself hope for friends at Hogwarts anymore, not yet, but if he was as good as he knew how, maybe someday-
Once, and only once, he found himself at his father's study door, in his pajamas, ready for bed.
"Dad?" he asked, his voice breathy and scared. Dad looked up, mind obviously still on the papers he was reading for work. Loki forced the words out. "Dad, what if I- what if they put me- ?"
"What if they what, Loki?" Dad snapped when Loki paused, not doing a very good job of hiding his impatience.
"Nothing," Loki mumbled. "Goodnight, Dad."
He didn't sleep at all that night.
Dad never mentioned Archimedes, and Loki didn't like to ask about him. Loki never liked to ask, it always felt like… giving someone a weapon. So he waited for Dad to offer. He waited and waited.
And then it was the last night of August, and they were going to the train the next day. Thor had brought out the cage his own barn owl, Solomon, would travel in to Hogwarts. Loki gathered up his courage and finally asked,
"Dad, Mum said you'd let me take Archimedes with me, to Hogwarts. Can I?"
His mother looked startled, and Loki realized she had never thought of her offer again, had never spoken to Dad after all. She hadn't meant it, it had just been a way of saying "no" without really having to say it.
Loki knew it, but he clung to the idea a little longer. "Please, Dad. I'll take good care of him."
Dad sighed, with the impatient look that said Loki was being unreasonable. "Loki, he's an old owl. He wouldn't like to go live in a strange place."
Loki had been good all summer, had behaved himself and hidden his fears and caused no trouble at all for anyone. But this disappointment was somehow the last straw. All the tears he had choked down through all the summer days started to rise in his eyes and his throat.
"But Mum said- " he started to protest.
"I said we'd ask," Mum pointed out, although there had been no "we," she had just hoped Loki would forget about it.
"And anyway, you don't have anyone to write to except Mum and Dad, and you can send your letters with mine," Thor said reasonably. He wasn't being unkind, it was true, but that wasn't the point.
"But I wanted… I just… I wanted- " Saying you wanted was also giving the other person a weapon to use against you, but Loki couldn't seem to stop himself. "If you had just told me you wouldn't let me have an owl, I could have gotten a cat." Now that it was too late, Loki thought with sudden, piercing longing of a fluffy purring cat, curled up next to him in his bed in the cold Slytherin dormitory. "I just wanted… something to be friends with me."
"Loki, when you're at school you'll make lots of friends," Mum said in her rich warm voice, lying and lying as if he was stupid, as if he didn't know better. Loki stared at her, and then he completely lost control, all the tiredness and fear rushing out so he couldn't pretend any longer. He heard himself almost shrieking,
"I won't. I won't, I can't, I don't know how. Nobody likes me, nobody ever likes me, and nobody ever will. I'm always… they always- "
And then he was wailing in grief and exhaustion, like a baby, blinded with tears. He turned and bolted out of the room, stumbling up the two flights of stairs to his bedroom, where he threw himself into the corner behind the bed and curled in on himself, sobbing.
He stayed in his room for the rest of the night. After a long time he crawled out of his hiding place, put on his pajamas, and climbed into bed, hiccupping and sometimes going into a fresh spate of weeping. He was alone, except for the floppy rhinoceros he dragged under the covers with him. Once he thought he heard someone outside the door, but nobody knocked or called to him.
Ruined, he thought, his eyes raw and his head aching. I've ruined everything. His parents would know now their task was impossible, that a boy who acted like this was hopeless. He hadn't done anything evil, not really, but he knew he had been ungrateful. His parents would be happy to send him away to school tomorrow and not have to deal with him anymore. Thor would be glad when he was assigned to Slytherin, it would give him a good reason to disavow Loki as his brother. Maybe they'd leave him at school over the Christmas holidays…
That night was longer than any of the others that summer, but finally it was morning, and Loki had to face his family one last time. He got dressed, took a moment to stuff his rhinoceros into a corner of his trunk- he had intended to leave his toy behind, but at the last minute he just couldn't face the year all alone after all- then washed up to go downstairs for breakfast.
A glance in the bathroom mirror horrified him. His eyes were all puffy and red and his face was swollen like he had some awful disease. Cold water only helped a little. Loki finally slipped into the dining room and into his place at the table, hoping to somehow not be noticed. With his parents and brother right there it was a faint hope at best, and he felt the weight of his father's one-eyed regard like a heavy hand on the back of his neck. Loki bent over his plate of eggs and toast and tried to make himself eat.
It wasn't a very good effort, and he gave up pretty quickly. Thor and Mum bravely made small talk, glancing at the clock to see how long they had before the train to Hogwarts left at eleven.
And then Dad suddenly stood up.
"Is your trunk packed?" he asked abruptly. Loki nodded mutely. Dad gestured to him to stand. "Your brother says you've been wanting an owl- "
"Dad, he's talked about practically nothing else all summer," Thor said impatiently, and Loki winced. But it was sounding like maybe his father would relent and let him take Archimedes after all.
Instead, his father just said, "Get your jacket, then. And hurry, the train leaves at eleven." Loki gaped at his father, who ignored him and turned to Mum. "Can you manage both trunks? Good. We'll meet you on the platform." Without a further glance at Loki, he swept from the dining room.
Bindi met Loki in the entry hall, holding his jacket. There was a chinking sound as he pulled it on- his money purse was already in the pocket, where he'd put it to be handy. Loki hugged the elf goodbye, and then ran after his father.
"Dad?" Loki said, hesitantly, as he caught up to his father in the doorway. Dad said nothing as he took hold of Loki's arm in a crushing grip. Loki just had time to realize what was going to happen before he had the feeling of being squashed and wrung out as his father Apparated, with Loki dragged along behind him.
They landed in a street, Loki blinking and gasping and very glad he hadn't eaten much breakfast, and it took him a moment to recognize Diagon Alley. The street wasn't crowded this early in the day, but there were a few shoppers hurrying about, making last-minute purchases before departing for King's Cross Station and the Hogwarts Express.
"All right," Dad said, still in a tone that sounded as if Loki was about to be punished, "Eeylops is just opening. Hurry up." And he walked away, grim-faced, with Loki scurrying along behind him.
A bell over the door rang as they entered, and Mr. Cadwallader, the wizard who ran the shop, looked up in mild surprise at such early customers.
"My son wants an owl," Dad said abruptly, in a rude way he never ever used when asking assistance in a shop. His one sharp eye was already roving over the cages, hurrying, and Loki realized sickly that Dad wasn't even going to ask him if there was a particular owl he wanted. Not that his- that the- beautiful short-ear would still be here, but-
Mr. Cadwallader smiled, looking pleased. "Finally come for her, have you?" he addressed Loki, and turned toward the darkness at the back of the shop.
"Her?" Dad asked sharply. Loki tried to make himself as small as possible, but Mr. Cadwallader wasn't bothered by Dad's tone. He picked up a traveling cage and went over to the big flying cage at the back, where the shop kept owls off display when they were moulting. The wire door rattled, there was a fluttering sound, and a minute later he turned back with the traveling cage in his hand.
Setting it on the counter, the shop wizard said, "Your young man's been coming to visit her all summer. I was hoping he'd be back with his money before school started, so I took her off display, like, to give him a chance. Nice owls, short-ears. Big enough to carry most kinds of post, but not too big for a kid to manage. This one's got a lovely disposition."
Loki couldn't speak, just stared at the cage where the mottled owl sat on her perch, studying him out of brilliant yellow eyes surrounded by jet-black feathers that contrasted with the buff and white of her facial disc.
A second later, she had reached forward with one taloned foot and caught the wire side of the cage. She flapped a little so she could step over with the second foot, then hung there picking with her beak as if reaching toward Loki. Loki held out a hesitant finger, still unable to believe what was happening, and she gently nibbled it with her beak.
"She's been looking for you," Mr. Cadwallader said kindly. "Knows you already, she does. That'll be ten Galleons for the owl, and three for the cage."
Loki glanced sideways at his father's unyielding face, seeing no sign that he was impressed by how beautiful the owl was, or interested in the idea she already knew and liked Loki. The sick feeling in his stomach got worse: Dad hadn't wanted him to have an owl, would never have brought him here at all if Loki hadn't cried and carried on last night.
If Dad bought his owl, Loki would always know he wasn't really supposed to have her, that she was a grudging gift, and the next time he was bad- because he would be, as hard as he tried he knew he would be- Mum and Dad would remind him they had bought him his owl, and he owed them better, and he knew that, but-
Loki reached into his own pocket before Dad could move, pulled out his purse and dumped the contents on the counter, gold and silver and bronze. Loki pushed the Galleons into a pile, eight of them, a lot of treats given up for a long time, and began to count silver Sickles as fast as he could.
"Loki," Dad said sharply, "I'm going to- "
"No," Loki said, without looking up, a frantic note in his voice as he pushed the first pile of seventeen Sickles toward the Galleons, "she's mine, I asked Mum if I could buy her myself, I've got- I've been saving- "
Mr. Cadwallader said nothing, but he began counting bronze Knuts into another pile as Loki coped with the Sickles. Finally there was a heap of money on the counter, two Sickles and five Knuts left in Loki's purse, and the shop wizard was writing out a bill of sale while the short-eared owl groomed her feathers in the cage.
"There you are," Mr. Cadwallader said cheerfully, as he scooped the money into the till. "You'll have to think up a good name for- "
"Bronwyn," Loki said instantly. He had never said it out loud, or even dared think it, that would be bad luck, wanting too much, but now she was his and he could. "Her name is Bronwyn."
"Good name," said the wizard. "Best of luck with her, and your year at Hogwarts." Loki managed a tremulous smile, the kindness almost more than he could bear at the moment, and picked up the cage in his arms. Dad picked up something small from the counter, handed over some money, and then said,
"We shouldn't Apparate with the owl. Mind if we use your Floo?"
"Not at all," Mr. Cadwallader nodded toward the jar on the mantle. Dad gestured to Loki and said,
"Platform nine and three-quarters," as if Loki didn't know, hadn't dreamed about it for years.
A moment later they were both on the platform, and the scarlet Hogwarts Express was puffing and steaming beside them. Loki looked around for his mother and brother, clutching Bronwyn in her cage, and then remembered and turned to his father.
"Thank you, Dad. Thank you so much- "
His father made a dismissive gesture. "You didn't want an old fellow like Archimedes." His father handed him the thing he had bought at the last minute, a packet of Owl Treats, and Loki set the cage down to stuff it in his pocket. Dad looked about to speak again when Thor's friend Volstagg happened along.
"Loki! Got your owl at last?" the hulking boy called as he walked by dragging his trunk.
"Does every witch and wizard in London know about this owl except your mother and me?" Dad growled, and Loki shrank again. Dad shook his head and looked down at him. His hands fell heavily on Loki's skinny shoulders, and he looked suddenly hesitant. "Loki. What you said, last night- "
"I'm sorry," Loki blurted. "I am, I'm sorry, I never should have- " Dad gave him a little shake, not very hard, and Loki fell silent.
"You said… Loki, you know we couldn't ask Muggle children to the house, don't you?"
"Of course not," Loki agreed, wide-eyed at the expression on his father's face. "It wouldn't be… they might have- "
"Yes. Exactly. Secrecy has to be preserved. But Loki, that doesn't mean… it doesn't mean those children wouldn't have wanted to be friends with you, if things were different. It doesn't mean they didn't like you, or your teachers, or- "
"Thor doesn't like me," Loki whispered, and despite all the crying he had done he still found a few more tears from somewhere. Thor was all he had, and Thor hated him.
"Thor loves you," Dad said firmly. "I admit he probably doesn't always like you at the moment, but that's because he's older than you are, and it makes a difference when you're boys. By the time you're men it won't matter at all." Dad actually got down on one knee to look Loki squarely in the face, hands still on Loki's shoulders. "But right now you're going to Hogwarts, and a lot of children there will want to be friends with you, because you're a good, smart, likable boy. Your mother and I are very proud of you, and we'll be so happy to hear all about what you learn and what you do there. We'll be looking out for… Bronwyn… to come with your letters."
Loki swallowed hard. "But Dad, what if- What if I don't get into Gryffindor?" It was the closest he could come to saying what he was really afraid of- he couldn't make himself say Slytherin.
"Of course you'll be in Gryffindor," Dad said, dismissing the idea, as if he didn't know.
"No, but Dad," Loki insisted, with all the courage he had.
His father looked at him for a moment, really paying attention for once, and then said, "Then you'll be somewhere else, and you'll belong there, and you'll do well and be happy." Loki swallowed, still unable to say that word. Dad patted him, then reached into his robes and pulled out a big white handkerchief. "Here. Blow your nose and wipe your eyes, and we'll go find your mother and brother."
"'Kay," Loki whispered, taking the handkerchief. And then Dad's arms were tight around him, and Loki was leaning into his father's shoulder.
"I love you very much," Dad whispered, into Loki's hair. "And your mother does, too. You're a very good boy, and we love you, and you will be very happy at Hogwarts."
Loki pressed his face into his father's shoulder, clinging, and for the moment almost believed him.