The Duality of Nature

One bleach blonde, Slytherin wandered the corridors midday. Malfoy walked as calmly as he could past the students and classrooms alone until he came across a familiar dark corridor. At the forefront of his mind, he kept his needs known, replicating the space from his memory hoping everything of necessity was in its proper place. A door began to form at the end of the room. He let out a quiet exhale, and surveyed his surroundings more thoroughly before entering, making sure no one was around this time. Once he entered, the door shrank into nothingness, an extra security measure he added to his long list of needs.

The vast room with a tall ceiling and various piles of junk remained the same. Malfoy didn't exactly know why the Room of Requirement concocted such a space for him, at least his precious cabinet blended in with some of the antique pieces. The young wizard took out his wand.

"Harmonia Nectere Passus" he whispered with a flick towards the large wooden furniture. Some magical fibers of the wood creaked and mended together.

"Harmonia Nectere Passus" he whispered again.

"Harmo-" he said, stopping half way.

A tension gripped him at his core, he assumed it was fear. He looked back toward a very distinct empty spot in the large room where some of the junk had fallen around the life that used to be there. Blood stains had seeped almost permanently into the stone floor. Malfoy had tried to clean it as best he could with as many different spells and enchantments as he could find, but every time he came back into the room, they reappeared as if the room didn't want him to forget. A punishment for his lack of action. He grimaced and silently shuttered a sob as he looked away. The stolen item hidden underneath his shirt and dress robes hung around his neck by a thin chain. It felt like a poisonous shackle with the item growing heavier and heavier every time he used it, tearing bits of him away, and yet he developed a disgusting need for it.

Malfoy pushed down some of these intrusive thoughts and feelings, and plucked a quill from his school robes, placing it inside the cabinet to test it even though it wasn't ready. The last time he put something inside the cabinet, other than himself, it came back dead. He broke the cabinet that day and mended it again for fear of future punishment, a vicious cycle. He felt trapped and didn't know what to do. Draco stopped crying when he heard a click. Frantically, he looked around, hoping, praying that no one found a way into the room, and more importantly that hooded figure of sharp death didn't return. He faced the cabinet, the source of the activated noise, when nothing happened and the room remained silent. The only heart that beat came from him.

Draco put one hand on the cabinet door and held his wand in the other. Carefully, he opened it. A relaxed breath escaped his lips when he found an object inside instead of a corpse of an animal's small body. The cabinet seemed to work, but he had no idea what this item was or where it came from. The foreign object looked like a child's toy or a prank item from a joke shop. Malfoy almost didn't want to touch it. The object was spherical and bright orange with buttons on one concave side and a glass spector on the other. He picked it up carefully, examining it in his fingertips before placing it on the round table in the center of the room.

Click.

A light poured out from the object. Draco pointed his wand and backed away from it, trembling. The light emitted patches of rays forming into a harmonious symphony of moving pictures. A sound, a familiar voice joined the images.

"The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power … "

Draco's eyes grew wide in disbelief as he recognized the midnight raven hair and overconfident smile of Lupin's assistant.

Harry went straight to the Library when he couldn't borrow Hermione's book. Luckily, he found the book fairly easily, which made Harry wonder how many people actually took the class and what was the appeal. He hoped it had the answers he seeked. The title was in plain English with other strange symbols surrounding it. He flipped through it and found many different edgy symbols with multiple meanings associated with them and magical properties. He needed to find the ones associated with Mr. Laufeyson and possibly the other strange name he saw if it existed within the book.

"There," he said to himself.

Loki:

Associated with the Hagalaz, Dagaz, and Kenaz Runes

Most runes have complex meanings, and these are no exception. The Hagalaz, Dagaz, and Kenaz Runes seem to have a duality to them, which is why they are given to Loki-

The young Gryffindor stopped reading when a shadow cast over the book. He carefully closed it and looked up.

"Resuming your studies from your late-night stroll … Mr. Potter?" said an all-too-familiar potions master. Harry stood up with the book in hand.

"Yes, Sir," he said firmly. Snape caught a glimpse of the book's title.

"And how is … Ancient Runes … meant to help you in Defense Against the Dark Arts?" probed Snape with his arms crossed. About as much as werewolves is what he wanted to say, but Hermione's knowledge and Mr. Laufeyson's lying-game pulled him away from the obviously petty remark.

"They have magical properties … for divination, spells, enchantments … even potions," he answered smartly.

"Hmm, I'm sure," said Snape, not entirely convinced, "Professor Dumbledore has requested your presence. Perhaps one of those runes … can get you there on time."

"Certainly," he said as Harry swerved around him, happy to leave his presence.

He had one guess for the headmaster's summoning as he kept the book close, and headed there immediately with a tunnel vision focus. The bustling hallways filled with students didn't distract him. The twisted staircase guarded by the stone gargoyle took him to his destination. Harry knocked on the door only to find it already open. He pushed it slowly and walked through the threshold. "Professor?" he asked the room. The headmaster leaned over the Pensieve. Watery blue light streams reflected from it, illuminating the small crystal windows of the cabinet containing the memory dish, creating an illusion of being underwater.

"Ah Harry! You arrived sharply. I see you found the book I recommended," said Dumbledore.

"Yes, Sir," said Harry.

"And, what do you think so far?" asked Dumbledore, stirring the Pensieve with his wand, a memory already waiting for him.

"Honestly, I haven't gotten that far …" Harry said meekly. Dumbledore chuckled warmly, his long silver beard moving with the motion.

"That's quite all right. Knowledge unfolds at its own pace, much like the pages of a good book, but I would advise that you do a bit more reading from here on out. I'm sure Ms. Granger can help you with that, for far more complex memories lie ahead," said Dumbledore gleefully. Harry nodded and stepped up to the shallow basin. Dumbledore put a hand on him before he dove into the newest memory.

"Harry, I must warn you … some of these memories might contradict one another the further we continue. As you embark on this magical journey, keep your mind open and your heart attuned," said the headmaster.

Harry nodded, feeling a mix of reassurance and curiosity, and plunged himself into the shallow basin once more, allowing its silvery substance to take him to a different reality. The walls of Dumbledore's office melted away to a lonely regal corridor adorned with metals. Large braziers of fire and contained flames attached to the walls revealed various strange items on display. Carefully placed on pedestals like trophies, yet tucked away from the public eye. Unlike the first memory, there were no windows nor natural light. Harry spotted Mr. Leufeyson without his horned helmet dressed in his cape, gold, and leather. He stood at the dead end of the corridor in front of one of the pedestals staring intensely at a strange ornate blue object with two handles. Distress replaced his previously fun demeanor. Harry watched him pick up the object.

"Stop!" yelled someone from behind. Harry spun his head around to find a much older man with white hair and an eye patch from the entryway of the corridor.

"Am I cursed?" said Mr. Laufeyson in a grave voice Harry had never heard before.

"No. Put the Casket down." said the older man. Loki set the Casket back upon its pedestal, but when he turned around Harry noticed that the object had turned his body blue and his eyes bright red. Harry flinched, taking two steps back. Once he let it go, the blue color and red eyes faded back to his normal form. Mr. Leufeyson stared intensely at his hands and arms, horrified, perhaps more terrified than Harry by the transformation.

"What am I?" he snarled.

Caught off guard by the question Harry also wanted answered, the young wizard nearly forgot he was in a memory.

"You're my son." said the old man.

"Son?" Harry questioned as he looked back at the one eyed man. He didn't see any resemblance.

"What more than that?" Mr. Laufeyson asked sinisterly. He walked towards the old man, past Harry with a dismissive coldness, realizing a harsh truth. Harry felt confused and conflicted.

"The Casket wasn't the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day, was it?" Mr. Laufeyson demanded.

"No." His father finally answered, "In the aftermath of the battle, I went into the Temple, and I found a baby. Small for a giant's offspring - abandoned, suffering, left to die. Laufey's son." The revelation sent him reeling.

"Laufey's son... " he said, desperately struggling to make sense of it all.

"Laufey's son? Laufeyson?" Harry pondered, also struggling to make sense of it.

"Why? You were knee-deep in Jotun blood. Why would you take me?" demanded Lupin's assistant.

"You were an innocent child," said his adoptive father.

"No, you took me for a purpose, what was it?" demanded Loki, trembling in a fit of rage. The trust for his so called father's words extinguished. When the old man with one eye did not answer, that rage took over.

"TELL ME!" he screeched.

The desperate cry for help echoed through the corridor and ripped through Harry's chest.

"I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day, bring about an alliance, bring about a permanent peace... through you. But those plans no longer matter," his father finally answered, delivering an unintentional, devastating blow to his son. Mr. Laufeyson looked lost on the verge of tears, a stark comparison to the happy memory with his brother.

"So I am no more than another stolen relic, locked up here until you might have use of me," he spat with a quiver.

"Why do you twist my words?" said his father sadly.

"You could have told me what I was from the beginning. Why didn't you?" he asked, sad and angry. Harry remembered the day Hagrid arrived and disturbed his cruel aunt and uncle. 'You're a wizard,' he told him. It was one of the happiest days of his life. At the same time, he learned how his parents actually perished, which wasn't so happy.

"You are my son. My blood. I wanted only to protect you from the truth," said his father kindly.

"Because I .. I am the monster parents tell their children about at night?"

Harry wanted to reach out to him.

"Don't... " said his father, collapsing to the floor. Loki stood over him. Harry wanted him to stop.

"It all makes sense now. Why you favored Thor all these years." he snapped loudly and sinisterly. "Because no matter how much you claim to 'love' me! You could never have a Frost Giant sitting on the Throne of Asgard!" yelled Loki.

His father's body began to shake. He lifted his hand, but it fell to the floor, his body going limp. Loki stopped his verbal attacks and appeared shocked. He knelt down carefully, hovering a hand over his father before gently placing it on his wrist, afraid the 'monster' within would hurt him. A tear fell from his face. Harry knelt next to him, forgetting once more that he was in a memory and could do nothing to help.

"Guards!" called Mr. Laufeyson.

It took Harry a moment to come back to their reality. A rough mixture of raw emotions pulled him in multiple directions. Dumbledore placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

It took a moment for the wisps of the memory to dissolve, leaving Harry in a haze of emotions. The walls of the memory disintegrated away in pillows of smoke. The distant echoes of Loki's anguished cries for help lingered, gradually fading into the background. The cold, eerie atmosphere of the regal corridor dissipated, replaced by the familiar warmth and soft glow of Dumbledore's office. As Harry blinked away the remnants of the memory, he found himself back in the luminous office, the pensieve now still, the silvery substance settled. Dumbledore's comforting presence at his side grounded him in the present.

"Harry ... you and Mr. Laufeyson ... have more in common than you realize," said Dumbledore. The task the headmaster gave him might be more daunting than he thought.