"Odinson!"

"'snotmybird," Loki slurs, shifting in his bed.

Draco bangs on Loki's door again. "Get up!"

A few moments later, Loki opens the door, wearing shorts and a green nightshirt. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"Listen, I just had a dream about the solution to my Potions problem—"

"Forgive my lack of scholarly zeal," Loki interrupts while rubbing his eyes, "but it's four in the morning, and, unless your Potions dreams double as prophecies about the fate of the world, I. Don't. Care."

"Well, I got out of bed and went to my desk to write it down," Draco continues on as if Loki hadn't spoken, "which is when I realized Phantomhive wasn't in his bed."

"So you woke me up to announce that our roommate went to the bathroom?"

"He's not there either," Draco says. "He's not in the room at all."

Loki pauses mid-rub, then slowly lowers his hands from his eyes. "But the force field on the door is impenetrable after curfew."

"Well—" Draco takes a sharp breath— "that's not quite true."

Loki's eyes twinkle at that. "No, it's not. But still, I don't see how Phantomhive could have gotten out, and I really don't know why he'd want to. The rules are terribly strict on that point."

"Quite so."

"It's a curious matter."

They stare at the door, the purple threads of the force field glimmering in the darkness. After a moment, Draco mutters, "Technically, a master illusionist would be able to cloak us and get us through the force field."

Loki glances at him. "True, but I do not think our roommate used that particular method. As far as I can tell, he has no knack for illusions whatsoever."

"He might have a device that actively disrupts force fields," Draco muses. "That'd be in violation of multiple rules, of course."

"Such a device would likely leave behind a magical signature," Loki adds, "I suppose a master alchemist could fashion a tracker to trace that signature."

Their eyes meet.

"I'll have the tracker done in ten minutes."

"I'll have the illusions done in five."

And thus, within ten minutes, they are ready to break through the impenetrable door.

"I'll cast some standard personal stealth charms, to try and avoid staff attention," Draco says. "I assume you can do the same."

"Of course— though Asgardia doesn't teach its children about stealth, I've taken pains to learn some charms regardless," Loki remarks. "I suppose stealth education is customary for Malfoys?"

Draco's jaw tightens at that, and he doesn't answer, instead looking down at the tracker he has cobbled together. It is a glass orb, broken, filled with gel and then fused back together. Flakes of silver hang in the gel, quivering when they pick up on a disruptor's signature. He holds it up and explains, "If we follow the path that keeps the silver shaking, then we should find Ciel."

"That's a remarkably wrought device, provided it works as intended."

"It works," Draco replies. "Shall we?"

Loki frowns at the curt answer. He silently waves a hand, triggering his cloaking spell, and they sweep through the force field and out of the room. Silently, they follow Ciel's path, which leads them through dark, echoey hallways into the administrative offices buried underground.

The tracker leads them to yet another force-field door, this one reinforced with a variety of multicolored layers.

"Where are we, exactly?"

"I don't know," Loki sighs. "At any rate, I'll have to design an entirely new cloaking charm to get in. It might take as long as an hour, unfortunately . . ."

Just then, a voice rings from the room, its tone distorted by the force field. Draco and Loki simultaneously press their ears to the door, barely able to make out several curse words . . .

The force field turns to air, and they tumble forward into the room and smack onto the floor.

"What the hell are you two doing here?" Ciel shouts, standing over them. He brandishes a black contraption lined with glowing gold that both Loki and Draco recognize instantly as a high-end disruptor.

Loki begins, "We are—"

"Stalking you," Draco immediately cuts in, "and doing a damn good job of it, too."

"I was going to say we were worried for your wellbeing and wanted to make sure you were safe," Loki finishes, seeming to deflate even as he stands up.

"What is this place?" Draco demands as he also surges to his feet. The room's walls are dimly lit by paper lanterns— no doubt enchanted to be flame-resistant— and Draco can see nothing else but filing cabinets as far as the eye can see.

Ciel replies hastily: "I don't know what it is, and we should leave at once . . ."

"It's the admissions archive," Loki murmurs. "I've seen pictures in one of those get-into-college handbooks— not that I needed to read such books regularly."

Draco gazes down the infinite rows of drawers, storing the papers that fulfilled a few dreams and crushed so many others. "Why—" he asks with a near-reverent tone, "why are you here?"

"Are you checking that your admission wasn't a mistake?" Loki asks.

"I know full well that I deserve to be here," Ciel glares. "But I can't say the same for certain others."

Draco whips his head around. "Are you investigating us?"

"Surprise, surprise, my world doesn't revolve around you two." Ciel shakes his head, yawning. "No, I was investigating a certain other student— and, before you ask, I'm not in love with him. Unfortunately, the most interesting part of his files are encoded with Runes . . ."

Loki smiles. "Might I help?"

"No," Ciel answers on reflex. Then . . . "Though your translation skills could speed this up by a few days."

"Please allow me to assist you."

"You two had better keep quiet about this."

"I will," Loki and Draco answer at once, their voices resounding through the shadowy hall.

Ciel leads them to the nearest filing cabinet— marked with their graduation year— opens one of the top drawers, and pulls out a file titled "Frost, Jack."

"Here." He opens the file, revealing a high school transcript marred by C's and D's and disciplinary notations, and draws out a page covered with Runes. "This is a special letter filed on his behalf, but I can't figure out what it's even about."

Loki snatches the page and looks over the lettering. "The phrasing's terribly overblown, but the message is simple. According to the Official Department of Oracle Management, this Frost person is the top candidate for fulfilling some prophecy."

Draco snorts at that. "Everybody's got a prophecy these days. Why would that make him special enough to get in?"

"Have you got a prophecy, Malfoy?" Ciel says.

"Er. Well, perhaps not everybody," Draco stutters. "As I said, having a prophecy isn't all that special, so I'm not upset at not having one."

". . . Right."

Loki continues scanning the paper. "Apparently this prophecy is inextricably linked to the welfare of Weston College."

"And what does this prophecy say?" Ciel questions.

"I have no idea." Loki shrugs. "It's not quoted here— classified information, apparently."

Ciel frowns. "What level of classification? Look for a number between one and five . . ."

"Six."

"What?" Ciel starts. "That means the people involved can't even mention it. Who would assign Level Six to some prophecy about a little school?"

"Weston College is not a little school, it's the most prestigious university in the . . ."

"Oh, stuff it, Malfoy, you don't have to sell me on my own college," Ciel replies, eyes fixed on the paper. "But really, this is fascinating. This case must be more complex than I thought."

"What case?" Draco throws up his hands. "What are you talking about?"

"Yes, Malfoy has a point," Loki jumps in. "You've been extremely mysterious since the start of the school year, and I think you owe us an explanation."

"I owe you nothing," Ciel replies, rolling his eyes.

"We could help you," Loki counters. "Whatever you're doing, it's clearly both sketchy and interesting, and I can be of use to you."

"I suppose I can be too . . . provided your plans aren't evil," Draco adds quickly.

"No, no, I'm not evil— I've been tested," Ciel responds. "It's a True Neutral life for me."

"Then we can help you," Loki repeats.

Ciel looks at the two of them and groans. "Fine. Anteiku opens soon— I'll grab breakfast and meet you back in the room, okay? And . . . I promise you some answers."

"Perfect." Loki puts back the paper and inserts the whole folder back into the filing cabinet. Then, the three skulk back out, now joined by secret bonds forged in the darkness of the forbidden grounds of a college admissions office.