Notes: In which we get some explanations, and I air out a few ideas I have about degrees of blood prejudice and so forth. In Harry Potter terms, I don't believe the Gaunts were unique.

Warnings: Sorry about pausing the plot for this, but it seemed the best place for it- Infamous Talking Chapter ahoy!

Chapter Twenty-Five

Their headlong flight into the forest lasted only until they got to what felt like a safe distance from the clearing where they had left the Death Eaters. ("Safe" being a relative term in the Forbidden Forest, obviously.) Finally, Stark hissed at everyone to slow down. Thor immediately pulled away from Loki and Annie, which made the frightened lump in Loki's throat turn even sharper and more painful. Stark waved Barney to turn at an angle, away from their original path, and they crept along as quietly as they could for at least another quarter of an hour. Finally, just when Loki didn't think he could take another step, Stark gestured to everyone to stop.

With some help from Mitchell and George, Barney unslung Clint and set him down as gently as he could.

"Odinson, do you still have that knife?" Barney asked Loki, who checked his pockets even though he distinctly remembered dropping the knife when he put his arm around Thor. He shook his head and felt even worse. Barney said nothing, just shrugged and started tugging at the knots that bound Clint's wrists. Loki folded his arms across his chest, suddenly aware how of cold he felt, and then sidled over to his friends. They gathered around him and he felt a little bit better.

Stark, after listening carefully for a moment to decide if they were being pursued, turned to Sinclair, who was standing awkwardly behind the Hufflepuffs.

"You," he said shortly, "get away from those kids." The escapee nodded and started to move, but Mitchell grabbed his arm and held onto him.

"It's okay," he protested, "he's a friend of my dad." Stark's eyebrows went up. Sinclair flushed, but Mitchell just looked stubborn.

"It's all right, lad," Sinclair murmured, disentangling himself and ruffling Mitchell's hair before moving back a step.

Now that Loki could really look at him, he realized the man's dark hair was the only point of resemblance to himself: Sinclair was pale, yes, but that was probably just lack of sunlight, not his regular skin tone. And his eyes were brown, though not as dark as Mitchell's. Up close, Loki realized, the man didn't look anything like him- Loki bore more resemblance to Harry Potter, or Bronwyn from the Muggle school, at least in terms of his colouring. He had assumed Sinclair was Felix just because he thought he must look like one of his parents, and he hadn't seen any similarities between himself and Catriona.

Not, of course, that he had looked very closely. He hadn't wanted to.

Maybe he had his mother's eyes, or something like that, Loki thought with a suppressed shudder. He'd rather not look like anybody in the world. And so far, it looked like he didn't.

Meanwhile, Mitchell was still trying to argue with Stark, which anyone could tell was a waste of his breath. The older boy finally said flatly,

"Look, he's an escaped prisoner, and he was keeping company with Death Eaters. Maybe he's got a good explanation for everything, but we don't have time to talk about it right now. Until we get back to the castle, he stays away from all you firsties. Got it?" The last words were addressed to Sinclair.

"Fine," Sinclair replied evenly. But he added, "I'm a thief, not a Death Eater. I'm not here by choice."

"That might be true," Stark said coolly, "but the only way I could believe you is if I had a dose of Veritaserum on me to give you. For now, I'm going to treat you as a threat. And if you do anything- and I mean anything- to make me think you're a danger to these kids, I swear I'll stun you and leave you for the Death Eaters and the Acromantulas. Behave yourself, and you can tell your story back at the castle and see who believes you. Deal?"

It didn't sound like much of a bargain to Loki, but then again it was certainly better than being left behind, helpless, in the dark forest. He shivered, wondering whether Stark would really do it.

Sinclair looked at Stark for a moment as if he was wondering the same thing. Then he glanced around at the Hufflepuffs, looked back at Stark and nodded.

"All right then," muttered Stark, and went over to where Barney was still struggling to untie his little brother. He murmured something and the tip of his wand glowed red-hot.

"Hold still, okay?" he said to Clint, and a moment later there was a burning smell and Clint was shaking off pieces of rope. While Barney was helping rub circulation back into his brother's hands and feet, Stark knelt down and said, very quietly,

"That, back there, is the reason your parents were willing to die to help defeat the Death Eaters. They didn't want you to grow up in a world run by people like that. They did it for everyone, but probably mostly for you and your brother." Barney ducked his head and nodded, chewing his lower lip. Clint reached out hesitantly and patted his big brother's arm. Barney rumpled Clint's hair and then helped him to his feet.

Loki realized he was staring and glanced away in embarrassment. Unexpectedly, he met his brother's eyes. Thor looked hastily down, flushing as if he was embarrassed about something, and Loki dropped his gaze to the ground.

"Okay," Stark said nervously, looking over his shoulder, "we had better move on. That way, I think." He gestured toward Sinclair. "You go first."

Loki wondered how Stark could possibly have any idea which direction would take them back to the castle. Even when they entered the forest, it had been almost impossible to see the sun through the trees, and that was when it had been at its highest. Now the shadows were getting long, and even as scared as he already was, Loki could feel his heart beginning to beat faster. Annie took his hand and he felt, if not any braver, then at least not so alone.

Thor looked back at them. Acting on impulse Loki said softly, "Thanks, Thor."

Thor flushed again, for some reason, and muttered, "For what?"

Loki wriggled. "For, for not telling on me. To... them. Even though they were hurting you."

Thor blinked. "Of course I didn't tell on you. I'd never... not to people like that." He looked at Loki, glanced away, and then muttered, "And anyway, you're my little brother. I could never- " Thor fell silent, and Loki wasn't brave enough to try again.

And he missed his chance, because Clint was having some trouble keeping up- the ropes around his ankles had after all been really tight- and Thor went over to offer to help him. Clint seemed to prefer Barney's help, but neither of the Bartons seemed to mind Thor joining them. Loki tried to swallow his disappointment- at least Thor had acknowledged him, called Loki his brother. That was something, anyway.

He and his friends hurried their steps to walk closer to Sinclair and Stark. The Head Boy was directly behind the escapee, glancing constantly back at the rest of the group to make sure he hadn't lost anyone. Loki imagined Stark wishing Professor Coulson was there, both for his magic and also for his border collie form.

They didn't talk, at first. Finally, though, Stark's curiosity, or maybe his desire to know exactly how dangerous their adult companion really was, got the better of him.

"Okay," he said quietly, "if you're just a thief instead of a Death Eater, how did you end up keeping company like this?"

Loki felt his ears perk up, and as he glanced at his friends he saw them listening as hard as they could, too. They had guessed that the Scottish prisoner was supposed to help the other two navigate around a place that was unfamiliar to them. Now they'd turned up at Hogwarts, that explanation didn't seem to make sense after all: Hogwarts, and the nearby village of Hogsmeade, were practically the only parts of wizarding Britain that everybody knew their way around.

Sinclair sighed. "Like I said, this wasn't anything I wanted. I'm a thief, not a killer. I was sent to Azkaban after I wasted one chance too many and a judge decided fines weren't teaching me anything." He shook his head. "Three years in that place was going to be plenty, even without Dementors. The problem was, those two- their names are Felix and Catriona Campbell-Hardwicke- had a plan, and they needed a guide to pull it off."

So far, that was pretty much what Loki and his friends had guessed, although the reason they needed a guide to get around Hogwarts was still a puzzle.

Sinclair shivered. "Or so they said. I think they also wanted... someone to vent on." Loki tried not to imagine what form that must have taken.

"Why you?" Stark asked, looking very skeptical. Loki supposed he couldn't be blamed for that.

Sinclair sighed. "A few reasons. First, I think they were just about sane enough to realize they needed help from a sneak. Those two aren't subtle, and anyway they worked behind the lines in the last war, torturing people. I expect their idea of 'infiltrating' is more 'charge in waving your wands and expect everyone to fall over in terror.' I suppose it worked when it was a big group of Voldemort's shock troops, but- "

"Let's get back to your role, shall we?" Stark interrupted. "Why did they choose you?"

"Because," Sinclair said flatly, "my parents are old, and my children are young, and my wife is a Muggle. They claimed to have... friends... in London, people who could get to my family, and I didn't have the nerve to find out whether they were bluffing. They had leverage, all right?"

"All right," Stark agreed. "What did they want from you?"

"They needed a guide to Hogwarts. Someone who knew his way around. I didn't know what they wanted here, I swear- although I can't say I would have refused them even if I had. I would have tried harder to get caught, though, if I had known they were after Frigga Odinson's kids instead of just potion ingredients."

"What about Frigga Odinson?" Stark asked, glancing quickly at Loki beside them.

"I worked with her during the war, with Declan Mitchell and his gang- Dec had the sense to go straight afterward, and I didn't. I did wonder why those two specifically wanted an accomplice who'd been in Gryffindor. They weren't best pleased when I told them Gryffindor tower was protected by passwords, like the Slytherin common room, so even though I knew my way around it I couldn't get them in."

"They wanted the potion ingredients to make Polyjuice," Stark prompted. "Tell me about that."

"Right. I figured, at first, they thought the school would be safer to break into, and the theft less likely to be noticed, than if we'd gone to a city and robbed an apothecary. I didn't ask why they wanted the Polyjuice, not even when they insisted they wanted something from Gryffindor kids and made me show them the Gryffindor changing rooms at the Quidditch pitch." He shrugged. "I really didn't want to know. Obviously, they figured that was where they'd find the Odinson kids."

"How come they didn't know where the changing rooms are?" Loki spoke up, finally unable to control his curiosity. "Everyone at Hogwarts knows that, even if they aren't in the house the changing room belongs to."

"They were never at Hogwarts," Sinclair explained. "If they had been, they wouldn't have needed me, Gryffindor or no Gryffindor."

"But everyone goes to Hogwarts," Loki protested.

"Not everyone," Sinclair replied. "Most parents send their kids, even the ones who were pretty crazy on the subject of blood purity, back when I was a kid. I suppose a lot of those parents thought they were making a point about not being driven out by the mudbloods- " he made an apologetic face as he used the word- "as if the Muggle-borns were doing anything to keep them out, or doing anything except living their own lives and making their own place in our world.

"But there have always been a small number of the most extreme blood-purist parents who kept their children at home, so they wouldn't be... defiled by contact with Muggle-borns."

Loki knew about those beliefs, although of course he had never met anyone who thought that way. His parents would never dream of making friends with such people, and that sort of blood purist wouldn't have anything to do with the Ministry, or St. Mungo's, or anywhere they might meet "the wrong sort," if you could use such a mild term for their thinking. Ordinary blood snobs were bad enough, with their silly prejudices. This kind of person went beyond snobbery. This kind of purist was potentially really dangerous, because if they got tired of keeping themselves separate, their next solution was to get rid of the people they didn't want to be around.

There was no law that said you had to send your kids to Hogwarts, it was just that nearly everyone did. Loki knew that many- probably most- wizarding children received their early teaching at home, that going to Muggle school the way he and Thor had done was unusual. By the time they were ready for high school, most parents wanted their kids to meet new friends and learn new ideas, among wizards and witches their own age.

Loki tried to imagine what it would have been like, cooped up at home with only the reluctant Thor for company, raised to believe there was something disgusting about Muggle children instead of going to school with them. He hadn't been friends with any Muggle kids, not really, but that was because he had to be secretive and hadn't been able to encourage them. Loki hadn't enjoyed that, it was lonely, but at least he had been able to work with his classmates in groups at school, had at least that much friendly contact with new people.

If he'd had to stay home all alone all his life, being filled full of hatred, he probably would be as mad as the Campbell-Hardwickes by now.

Of course, families who shared such extreme beliefs probably stuck together. You'd look down on half-bloods, and hate families like the Odinsons, even though they were pureblood, because they were blood traitors. The only friends you were allowed to have would be people who reinforced your own hatreds and fears, and then you would grow up and marry each other because you didn't know anyone else and besides, you'd been taught everyone else was beneath you and probably ought to be destroyed.

It must be a horrible way to grow up, all stunted and twisted. Loki found himself almost feeling sorry for the Campbell-Hardwickes, raised in such sad and ugly circumstances by their sad and ugly families. They wouldn't have had much chance to change their minds.

And then he remembered the way they had tortured Thor, wanted to kill both brothers just to hurt their father. He remembered they had been locked up in Azkaban for torturing and murdering Muggle-borns and Muggles, thinking they didn't deserve as much compassion as Loki had been taught to feel for ants.

If things had been different, Loki might have been raised like that. If Voldemort had won... or if his birth parents' families had taken him to raise after his parents went to prison- either way, he would be twisted and damaged in ways he didn't even recognize. He wouldn't know any of his friends, any of the people who were so important to him now, but he would hate them anyway, would believe they had no right to exist. Annie, George and Mitchell. Pippa and Dennis. Rogers. Professor Sprout and Mr. Longbottom, for teaching them and caring about them.

His mum and dad- his real ones, the ones who had taken him in and raised him and loved him now- might have taken him to keep him from going evil like his- like Felix and Catriona. They might have just thought it was a way to make the world a tiny bit better, making sure one little wizard didn't grow up full of hate. Maybe they were being practical when they took him, and only got to love him later.

But it was all right, Loki thought. Because they did love him, now. And because trying to imagine how it would feel, to be so full of anger and hate that he couldn't even tell someone was good, or kind... to look at Annie and not see anything except her Muggle mother and her squib father, to hate her and not see her at all...

Loki had thought, before this, he was grateful for the chance his parents gave him when they took him in. Now he knew what the other way would have looked like. Now he really knew how much he had to be grateful for.

Still holding Annie's hand and thinking very hard about how glad he was to have both the chance and the sense to be grateful for it, Loki kept trudging along through the woods with the others.