Notes: Short transitional chapter, moving into what I think of as the third act of this story. We'll see what I come up with.

Warnings: None I can think of.

Chapter Seventeen

The night before he and Thor were to return to Hogwarts, Loki packed his trunk with everything except his floppy rhinoceros and his clothes for the next day. He took a bath, brushed his teeth, and then returned to his room, walking quietly as he passed Thor's.

Mum and Dad had made several efforts over the past days to involve the brothers in activities together, but nothing had really worked out. Thor seemed kind of offended at Loki's existence, while Loki found it a lot more enjoyable to concentrate on sending notes back and forth to his friends and playing with his owl.

In spite of the tension with Thor, it really had been a nice holiday, one of the best Loki could remember. The day his friends had visited, Mitchell's parents had come to fetch them, having been invited by Loki's mum and dad to come to tea. The adults had complimented the biscuits, and then had gone into the library for a visit together, leaving the kids to play another board game in the dining room in front of the Christmas tree.

When Loki showed George to the lavatory a little while later, they had heard laughter coming from the library. He wondered whether some of the adults' memories of the war might actually be funny, or if Mr. Mitchell was just like his son, able to turn almost anything into a joke.

Thor hadn't been much in evidence that day, appearing for tea but then vanishing back into his own room. Loki didn't know where he'd been for the early part of the afternoon, and he had to confess he didn't really care.

A couple of days after Loki's friends visited him, he had been invited to visit them in return- and it was "them," because the three families lived so close together, on a terrace in another part of the city, that the kids went from one house to the next all afternoon. Loki met all their parents. George, like Mitchell, was an only child, and his Muggle parents seemed to enjoy feeding people. George's dad was making a big pot of soup when the kids came through the kitchen door, and he shooed them into the lounge while he worked.

Loki hadn't been inside a Muggle home since he used to be invited to birthday parties in his first years in primary school. He was intensely curious about the books and ornaments (mostly souvenirs of seaside towns he had never visited) displayed on the shelves and in the book cases. There was also a collection of "record albums" on a shelf, next to the device that played them, and Loki looked at them in fascination.

"Isn't that the band Professor McGonagall likes?" he asked suddenly, pointing to The Beatles printed on the cover of one of them.

"Yes, it is," George replied. "Do you want to listen to them?"

The music drew Mr. and Mrs. Sands to the lounge, where Loki discovered that some people's parents were very funny indeed when they danced. He also decided that Stark was right, this music was much better than the kind you heard on wizard radio: Celestine Warbeck and her "Cauldron of Hot Strong Love" wasn't nearly as much fun to jump up and down to as "She Loves You" and "I Want To Hold Your Hand."

The four friends spent the afternoon running in and out of each other's houses up and down the terrace and playing with a lot of Muggle kids who lived nearby. The Muggles accepted Loki as a friend of the others' "from school," and let him participate in a lot of different games he had never played before.

Loki had gotten home late, exhausted and very happy, eaten a couple of ginger biscuits as a snack, and then had gone up to bed.

His parents went out to a party on New Year's Eve- Mum looked so pretty in her violet dress robes that it was hard to believe she was anybody's mother- and Thor was invited to stay overnight with Fandral. Loki and Bindi had baked a cake together, without any magic at all, and then watched part of an international ice hockey tournament in her parlour. Loki agreed the game was nearly as fast as Quidditch, just as Bindi had told him. He winced every time someone crashed into the boards that surrounded the playing surface, but aside from that it was a pretty exciting game. Loki had gone to bed at nearly the usual time, but Bindi woke him just before midnight and they had gone up onto the rooftop to watch a fireworks display put on by the neighbourhood.

One present Loki received from his parents was a camera. Thor had gotten one for Christmas in his first year at Hogwarts as well, and Loki was excited about the prospect of taking pictures of his friends at school. Dad had taken both boys down into the cellar to make the developing potion that would cause the pictures to move. The potion was tricky, and there was really nowhere to develop pictures at school, so Loki and Thor would send their films home by owl and Mum and Dad would send back the pictures. Still, it was fun to try mixing the potion, imagining how Professor Slughorn would evaluate his results if he was there to see.

"That's quite a good effort," Dad was saying as he examined the contents of Loki's cauldron. "Not quite clear, but very close." He scooped up a dipperful of the potion and sniffed, nose wrinkling. "And it should smell a little more like rotten eggs- " which was why they were making the potion in the cellar instead of the kitchen. "Still, I think this will at least produce images, which is very good for a first try. Wouldn't you say so, Thor?"

Thor muttered noncommittally. His own potion, a stinking brew, was almost perfect, but of course Thor was in fourth year and Loki only in first. Loki decided he was pleased with his own results anyway.

Mum and Bindi had been taking pictures all through the holiday, and Dad brought out one of the films for them to practice on. Loki's potion produced a still image of Bindi in her budgie hat and blue cardigan, standing in the kitchen. Thor's resulted in one of Mum and Dad, dressed up for the New Year's party, waltzing slowly around the entry hall.

Dad's potion, perfectly clear and horribly smelly, made an image emerge of Loki and his friends standing together in the snowy back garden, pink-cheeked and breathless and waving at the camera- until Bronwyn swooped through the picture and grabbed Loki's knitted hat from his head.

Dad smiled at the picture and made a second copy for himself and Mum to keep, before he used his wand to clear the cauldrons and they went upstairs to report on how things had turned out.

Today, the last day of the holiday, the family had spent quietly together, making sure the boys clothing was clean and their trunks packed, and then playing board games in shifting teams for most of the afternoon.

It had been a wonderful holiday, and Loki was very conscious of having everything he ever wanted- not toys or presents, but things that were really important. It gave him a guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Now, packed and washed and already torn between eagerness to get back to Hogwarts and missing his parents and Bindi already, Loki paused before getting into bed. Mum had been downstairs in the library when Loki started upstairs, and after wrestling with himself for a couple of minutes, Loki put on his dressing-gown and went softly down the staircase to the ground floor.

The library door was ajar, and Mum was sitting on the sofa, looking over parchments. She had taken some time away from work while the boys were home, but she caught up on her reading at night, and would be back at the hospital the next day after dropping Loki and Thor at the train.

She didn't notice him right away, and after a fidgety moment Loki called out softly,

"Mummy?" He didn't know why he used that babyish word again, but there was nobody but her to hear him. She looked up.

"Loki, I thought you had gone up to bed," she said. But she held out her arms to him so he knew she wasn't scolding, and Loki scooted across the room to join her on the sofa. Mum folded her arms around him. "What is it?"

"I... I was thinking," he faltered, leaning back against his mother. "About Clint Barton and his brother?"

"The boys you bought the presents for," Mum said, to show she remembered. Loki nodded. "What about them, sweetheart?"

"I, I... I just... they don't have anybody," he said. "They, they live in a foster home, only it's really not a home because nobody wanted them for the holidays, and, and... I just wondered if, if you could do anything to help them." It occurred to him that, since Dad worked at the Ministry, he probably should have spoken to his father about this. It was just that Mum looked after people at the hospital, so it seemed like she would know what to do, to make things better for the brothers. And anyway, he was finding he could talk to Mum more easily. He wanted to be able to talk to his father, and he thought maybe Dad wanted to talk to him, too, but words still froze in his throat sometimes when it was Dad.

Mum tightened her arms around Loki and pressed her lips against the back of his head, where his hair was still damp from being washed. "Sweetie, it's very kind of you to be so concerned about them... but can I ask you, is there a reason you are?"

"... not really," Loki whispered. He couldn't tell her why he was so bothered. He supposed it was silly, really, since Professor Fury had told him that his parents had nothing to do with the Bartons, and Professor Fury had no reason to lie to him.

Still, though. he felt like he owed it to them. Or to someone, anyway. His parents- his other parents- they had done terrible things to someone, and it must have been their friends (if you could say Death Eaters were friends with each other, which Loki wasn't sure you could) who had killed Clint's mother and father. And even though they were in Azkaban now, Loki didn't think being punished was exactly the same as making up for what they had done.

Loki just felt like someone should try to make up for it, and there was nobody to do it but him.

And he couldn't tell his mother that.

"You just want them to be helped," Mum said.

Loki nodded, and then he offered, "That time, when Professor Sprout talked to me? When, when I was so upset about Thor? My friends talked to her, because they wanted someone to help me. I just, I wanted- " ("you waaaaaaanted")- "it would be, be good if someone could help them, too. And I thought maybe you- "

Mum kissed him on the head again. "All right. I'll see what I can do. It certainly seems as if someone should have taken better care, to be sure they were safe and looked after. I'll see what I can do." She smoothed down his hair, hesitated, and then said quietly, "I promise."

"Okay," Loki said. "Thank you."

He sat with his mother for a few minutes longer, leaning against her, before he finally said goodnight and went back upstairs to bed.

~oOo~

The Hogwarts Express left at eleven the next morning, just as it had in September. Loki briefly tried to recall the state of mind he had been in, that morning, but it was hard to do, and he didn't really want to.

When they got to the platform, Loki hugged his parents and headed straight for the baggage car, without waiting for Thor or anything. He was looking for his friends, or any of the first-years, and found Ian and Pippa right away.

"Are we going to look for an open carriage again?" Ian asked, as he let a porter take his trunk. Pippa nodded, and Loki said goodbye to Bronwyn and agreed that was a good idea. They found Annie, George, Mitchell, Dennis, and a lot of other first-years and swarmed into the first open carriage they found. Rhodes and a Ravenclaw prefect sent a few more first-years their way as they arrived. By the time the train left the station, the whole carriage was filled with first-years, waving out the windows to their families, and Loki had no idea at all where his brother was.

He was starting to feel a little bit guilty about how little he cared about that, actually.

He didn't have much time to worry about whether he was being unfair to Thor, though: he was much too busy catching up with the rest of the first-years. Dennis had gotten a wonderful book about owls for Christmas, and a promise that he could have one of his own for second-year, after he decided what kind he liked best. He was pretty torn between a short-ear like Bronwyn and a tawny, but he had time to think about his decision.

Loki and Dennis were talking about owls- Loki was trying very hard not to push his own preference onto his friend- when Darcy, Jane, and Natasha came over to sit across the aisle from them.

"Hi," Natasha said bluntly.

"Did you have a nice Christmas?" Jane asked, leaning forward. Darcy and Natasha rolled their eyes a little and Jane blushed.

"It was good, thanks," Loki answered Jane's question. "How was yours?"

"It was great, and Natasha wants to talk to you," Darcy spoke up bluntly. Jane glared at her cousin, but sat back and let Natasha take over.

"My mother and father went to a party at your parents' house," Natasha said. "On Boxing Day."

Loki nodded. "I met them. They seemed nice." That was a bit of an overstatement, since they had spoken for less than a minute, but Loki had no reason to suspect the Romanovs weren't nice.

"They said the same thing about you," Natasha replied. "They asked if you and I were friends." She paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. "My parents are very practical, and perhaps they think it would be a good thing, if I had a friend whose mother and father are important people. But they also said you were very polite, and my mother thought you were a nice boy."

"Oh," Loki muttered, confused about why they were having this conversation, and a little anxious. "And what did you tell them?"

"I said we had classes together but I didn't know you very well," she replied. Darcy let out an annoyed huffing noise. Natasha ignored her. "I didn't tell them that I had decided not to be your friend because I am already Clint's. They like Clint- well, I think they feel sorry for him- but they dislike Barney very much, and I don't think they would consider it a good trade, to give up a nice friend with good parents in favour of Clint."

"They wouldn't try to make you stop being friends with Clint, though, right?" Loki said anxiously.

Natasha shrugged. "I don't think they would cry if it happened. But Clint was my first friend when I came to Britain, and even though I am foreign he never made fun of me. I don't like his brother either, but Clint is my friend."

"I know that," Loki pointed out. "You said that already, when you told me you wouldn't be friends with me."

"Why are you telling him all this?" Annie demanded. Loki also wondered what point there was in this exchange.

Natasha looked a little uncomfortable. "My mother is right: you are a nice boy. And you did nothing to Clint." She shrugged again, only this time it was more of an uncomfortable wriggle. "It isn't fair to you, and it is probably bad for Clint, too, for him to treat you as an enemy for no good reason. I chose to take his side, but there are other students who have chosen you, and he is apt to find himself very lonely if this keeps up."

"I hadn't thought of that," Loki said. He should have, really: except for Natasha, he realized he hadn't lost any friends over his problem with Clint. It gave him a funny warm feeling, to realize some kids who weren't even in Hufflepuff had picked him. And then he felt guilty for feeling that way.

"Clint hasn't, either, but if he keeps on being your enemy he's going to realize it soon. I could speak to him," she said quietly. "I could talk to him about trying to fix things between you. Would you agree to that?"

Loki looked down at his hands for a moment. He wasn't angry at Clint. Except for that one upsetting confrontation that still rang in his ears, Clint really hadn't done anything to him. He hadn't even asked Natasha to stop being friends with Loki, Natasha had done that herself out of loyalty. It was hard to blame either of them for that.

Loki was plenty mad at Thor, but he wasn't at Clint, and he didn't want Clint to be his enemy.

"Okay," he said. "I'd like to be friends with Clint, if he'll agree to it."

"Good," said Natasha. "I'll speak to him." She got up, giving Darcy and Jane a commanding look. Darcy rolled her eyes and grabbed her cousin by the arm.

"See you in class," Jane called, as she was dragged back down the carriage with the other girls.

Loki found all the Hufflepuff first-years looking at him. "What?"

George grimaced. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Loki felt his face flush. "What do you mean?" he asked in annoyance. "You're not scared to trust her because she's in Slytherin, are you?"

George looked more puzzled than offended. "Of course not."

Loki suddenly felt embarrassed, remembering that, despite growing up with wizard friends, George was Muggle-born, so there were certain kinds of assumptions he wouldn't have learned from his family.

And then Loki thought maybe instead of "family," what he really meant was "brother," because most of the ideas about houses he'd brought to Hogwarts with him were from Thor in the first place. That was enough to make him feel another flash of anger at his brother. He remembered being so scared about Slytherin, you would have thought it was a houseful of monsters. He wondered how much of that silliness Thor actually believed, and how much was just to scare his stupid little brother.

He shook his head to shake out the thought and looked at George, who was frowning at him.

"I just meant," George said, "that maybe you don't want to stir Clint up. Maybe he'll just get over being upset at you by himself, if you leave him alone."

"Or maybe he'll get into the habit, and we'll spend seven years here at Hogwarts with a big weird rift in the first-year class," Mitchell spoke up. "Face it, that could easily happen- he's stubborn, and we're stubborn- " Loki was grateful for the we instead of Loki- "and the longer something dumb like this goes on the harder it'll be to get over."

Loki winced, imagining himself and Thor spending the rest of their lives in awkward silence at family events, neither of them willing to make the first move. And then he felt another surge of resentment, because he had, he had tried to be friends with Thor, and Thor wouldn't let him, and now it was Thor's turn to do something if he wanted them to be friendly.

The resentment was followed by another uncomfortable feeling, as he realized he hadn't tried at all since Dad and Thor had talked to each other. Maybe Thor was a little shy of him now, and wanted him to make the first move. He'd been trying before, but in ways Thor didn't want, and at times Thor didn't want. Maybe it was his responsibility to try again. Only, how could he possibly know for sure?

He felt tired just thinking about it.

George was looking worried now, and Loki decided to just do one thing at a time. He'd think about Thor later. Right now they were talking about Clint.

"Let's just... Natasha's going to talk to him, right?" Loki spoke up. "If he'll agree to try to be friendly, I'm happy to do it. It's not like I'm in Gryffindor and would be seeing him all the time anyway. If he's willing to not be weird and angry, I'm happy to not be weird either."

There was a pause, and then Mitchell started to giggle.

"Shut up," Loki said, giggling too.

He settled down in his seat as the train carried them all back to Hogwarts.