THANK YOU TO ALL THE READERS OF THIS FIC!

So, I'm posting on Friday just as I said I would (GASP!). Hooray!

This chapter deviates a little from the Loki-centric plot. We've got some interaction and slight relationship building with Sif, which was surprisingly fun to write, and then at the end, Harry and co. find themselves back on Earth.

The Earth-based whatnots will go on, probably through all of the next chapter, and, maybe, the chapter after that. I'm not sure. But, after Earth we get back to Loki, and will start finally getting some answers out of him, and delving more deeply into his background and motivations. There will also be some more Harry/Sif centric scenes, though I will still try to make sure romance doesn't become the main focus of the fic.

In other news, some of the keys on my keyboard no longer work for some reason. I'm having to use insert-symbol to put in exclamation points and parentheses. I'm hoping my keyboard lasts a bit longer before it cuts out completely, but who knows. This is already a shitty laptop that I have to keep plugged in while using, and can only run on safe mode.

I can sort-of type on my tablet, but I can't update the fic from there, which is a problem. If we're lucky, my mom will let me use her comp when needed.

Moving on, I wanted to wish all of you who celebrate it a Happy Halloween. May you have fun and not get sick off candy.

Now then, onto the chapter.

Enjoy.

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A blush blossomed strongly over Harry's cheeks, and his mouth fell open slightly in surprise. Muhammad chuckled next to him, and leaned a hand over to gently shut his jaw. He blinked, shook his head, muttered an embarrassed 'thanks', and found his eyes drawn back to the beautiful sight several paces away.

The bifrost bridge had finally been completed. Odin had, very firmly, declared that they were free to remain on Asgard as long as they wished, and that he would not be kicking them out any time soon (Harry got the impression he was so thankful for the progress with Loki, that he didn't want them to leave until he could be sure his younger son wouldn't go back to the way he had been before). There was, apparently, a lot of work that would need to be done now that the bridge was back in working order, but, before they got to it, Odin had decided they would have a feast to celebrate the repairs.

The palace hall they found themselves in was brightly lit and gorgeously decorated with wreaths of flowers and leaves, burgundy banners, and a very long table filled with more food than Harry had ever seen all at once; even at Hogwarts. Everyone was nicely dressed for the occasion (even Thor had forgone his armour and worn a bright red tunic, leather trousers, and fancy boots, though he kept his faithful mjolnir at his hip); the men in tunics of various colors with inlaid gold and silver designs, soft leather trousers and boots, and most of the women in flowing dresses that sparkled and shined in the golden light of the hall.

It was one of these women in particular who Harry's gaze was riveted upon. He had only ever seen her in her armour, with her hair tied sharply up in a tail. Even then, she had been beautiful. Her armor had served to remind him of her admirable strength and skill in battle; things that made him look up to her (the armour, also, hugged the curves of her body rather nicely). Her tied hair had revealed her face more, allowing him to take in the full depth of her features, and making her sharp hawk-like eyes stand out. But now-

If she had been beautiful before, she lived up to being a goddess at the moment. She wore a white and blue dress, a shocking change from the red and silver armor he was used to seeing. It hugged her chest and waist, and then fell loose from her hips to the floor. Small straps settled over her shoulders, leaving her arms (usually hidden by her greaves) entirely bare. It made her muscled physique (which another person might have found unattractive on a woman, but which Harry eyed appreciatively) stand out a bit; marking her level of strength even in such feminine clothing. Her hair was left down, falling in soft waves around her face and over her shoulders, and she wore the barest hint of makeup; just enough to make her eyes stand out even more.

She was standing near another woman he didn't recognize, chatting, and when she caught sight of him, she smiled, said goodbye to her companion, and approached. He swallowed nervously.

"You're dressed well." She offered, more teasingly than complimentary. He flushed, and looked down at himself, wondering if there was something wrong with the clothes he'd worn; a nice leathery vest-like top (with more straps than any such thing needed) worn over a fine silky white tunic that had a simple silvery lining of threaded knotwork around the bottom and the sleeves. His trousers were more plain, but they matched the cut and material of the strapped top. "You look very nice." The compliment felt more genuine this time, and he looked up with a smile, pushing aside his sudden insecurities as best as he could.

"You look amazing." He told her, meaning it wholeheartedly. She grinned at him, and he felt accomplished when he witnessed the smallest spots of color appear on her cheeks. He had seen her face flushed with exertion after a harsh training session, but he had never seen her blush.

"Thank you." Harry grinned stupidly. The moment was interrupted when someone cleared their throat. He started, and looked back over at Muhammad, abashed. He smiled apologetically. He'd already forgotten the Arab was there. Sif took in Moo's ratty shoes, slightly holey jeans and stained tshirt, with it's faded lettering. He wasn't the sort to care about formal dress, and Harry had honestly grown so used to he and his devil-may-care attitude to be at all embarrassed on his behalf.

"Is this sort of dress typical of Migdardians when attending a celebration?" Her voice was both legitimately curious, but also clearly unimpressed.

"The best sort of celebrations..." Muhammad told her with a straight face. "... Usually not formal ones though." He shrugged awkwardly. "I'm not one for dressing up."

"Clearly." She said blandly, and Harry, seeing Moo's eyes offer her a look that was all venom, tensed up and held back a grimace, readying himself to play referee when his brother inevitably insulted her. But to his surprise, Muhammad only gave her a flat smile, and turned back to Harry.

"I think I'm going to go see if I can find myself some liquor." Harry nodded dumbly, and watched his brother walk off without another word. He had expected the Arab to say something nasty to her, maybe even insult her looks, but this sort of restraint...

Well, it wasn't exactly something Moo was known for. And Harry, understanding that his brother had only let it go because Harry fancied Sif, felt a wave of surprised gratitude towards him (and relief as well). The Asgardian woman watched him go with slightly raised eyebrows, and a frown. Then her gaze fell back on Harry, and she smiled.

"I wasn't sure you would attend." She motioned for him to walk with her, and, side-by-side, they began a slow pace vaguely around the rest of the party.

"Why not?"

"Your other brothers did not come, and they've a propensity for drawing one's eyes. When I did not see them, I expected..." She trailed off with the wave of a hand.

"Actually, they're hung-over." Intentionally, on his part. He knew them well enough to know they weren't likely to pass up such a golden opportunity for mischief-making. So the night before, he had taken the liberty of 'finding' the hidden stash of firewhisky they'd brought with them that he 'hadn't known about' before. They had all drank together (though more than half of Harry's drinks had 'mysteriously' disappeared into this pot by their common door), and, eventually the redheads had passed out.

When they finally awoke only an hour or two ago despite it being the evening, they had been despaired to discover there were no sobering solutions or hang-over tonics.

Or rather, there were, but they were Moo's, and only he knew where they were, and he had no plans to share. The twins had debated getting revenge on him, but were reluctant to try (Harry thought maybe they were just a little intimidated by him, for whatever reason), and had shelved the matter until their heads stopped pounding.

"Hung-over?" She gave him a confused look.

"They drank too much last night. They're in bed." Realization dawned and she nodded solidly.

"You did not drink with them?"

"I did, just not nearly so much."

"I'm glad you showed such restraint. It would have been unfortunate to arrive for the evening and find you weren't in attendance."

"I thought you said you didn't think I would come?"

"That does not mean I had not hoped." She smiled almost shyly at him and his knees felt a little wobbly. He didn't answer her, and, after a moment of awkwardness, she changed the subject. "How does your magical training go?" His eyes snapped up to look at her.

"What?" He squeaked. She smirked at him.

"The guards talk, you know. I don't know who's teaching you, but they say you are learning Asgardian magic." She didn't know who was teaching him? Did she not know about his visits with Loki then? He'd never brought it up, but he'd more or less believed it to be common knowledge... He shook his head.

"You don't... Disapprove?" She hummed.

"If you were Asgardian yourself, I might. As it is, I know very little about the Seidmann, but I do know that you thrive upon magic. Among your own kind, it would not be dishonorable to use magic in battle, but expected, yes?"

"Yes."

"Then so long as you don't use your magic against an Asir, I see no fault in it. You will need your magic for conflicts with your own people, lest you are at a disadvantage, and so there is no harm in you learning what you need to survive..." There was a moment of silence between them. "Now, I believe you didn't answer my question." She gave him a look he thought might be fond exasperation that made his stomach feel oddly fluttery, like there was something squirming about inside.

"I... My magical training is going well, actually. I was struggling a little at first, because the way you lot use your magic is a little more... raw, than what I've been taught in the past, but I think I'm starting to get the hang of it." And indeed he was. After a great deal of practice and both lectures and encouragement from Loki, his illusions had improved greatly, though they were far from perfect, and even farther from Loki's skill level. Sif didn't look as though she really understood what he meant, but she nodded.

"That is good then." They paused in their walk, and looked out over the people together. They were nearly on the opposite side of the hall as when they had begun. A section of the room had been emptied of furniture, and several couples were twirling and bobbing elegantly around one another in dances. It reminded him a little of the yule ball, but the dances weren't quite the same. Harry saw Fandral spinning a laughing redhead around, one of his hands a little lower on her back then was probably strictly appropriate. To his surprise, he also saw Muhammad.

He was dancing with a short feminine blond, and it took Harry a moment to realize his dance partner wasn't actually a woman. Then everyone seemed to spin away from one another in unison, at some unknown cue, and as they came back, they each had new partners. Fandral now had an older brown-haired woman in his arms, and Muhammad was escorting a curly black-haired woman a head taller than him who looked very nervous.

"Would you like to dance?" He blinked, and stared, startled, at Sif. Had she stepped closer to him?

"I- what?" She repeated her question, rolling her eyes fondly, and he flushed. "I um... I don't really know how. Er, to dance, I mean. I haven't really-" He had danced exactly one time. McGonagall had taught them a basic waltz for the yule ball in fourth year, and he had taken one of the Patil twins as a last resort, and only just managed not to step on her feet. They had only shared the one dance required of him as a champion, and then they had sat for the rest of the evening until she and her sister grew fed up with he and Ron and went off to dance with other boys.

"Then I will teach you. Come." She smiled and grabbed his hand, practically dragging her with him to the dance floor. He stumbled a bit, and when they stopped on the edge, a little away from the other dancers, he felt embarrassed and deeply uncertain. Her hand was warm in his, and he was sure his own were clammy and sweaty and that she must have noticed, and would surely let go any moment now.

She did, but only to switch hands and alter the grip. She raised their clasped hands up to her shoulder height (higher than Harry's), and grabbed his other hand. She guided that hand to a spot where it was mostly on her waist, but with his fingers just brushing the small of her back. He could feel soft skin and toned muscle beneath her dress. His heart pounded in his chest. Her other hand felt too warm on his shoulder.

"Just relax. Step as I do." She took a pointed step to the side, twisting her body so they were turning as she did so. He did his best to follow her, but he was so nervous that his feet felt as though they were made of lead. He looked down, trying to get a handle on the steps. "Keep your eyes up Harry." His eyes snapped back up, meeting hers; but that only made him more anxious. He stumbled, stomach clenching. She chuckled at him and his face flamed up, an embarrassed blush spreading to his ears and neck. "Harry." She stopped them, and there was a thoughtful expression on her face. "Calm yourself. Think of it like a fighting technique. Just let it flow." It was a little easier then, when he imagined the dance steps were fighting stances. The way she was trying to teach it to him, and the occasional murmured instructions, were also very similar to when she was training him, and that helped with the illusion.

After a few more missteps, he got his breathing and heart-rate under control, and was doing well enough with the dance for Sif to twirl him into the throng of other dancers. Once he was calm enough to make note of it, he realized the steps were in time with the beat of the music, and that too made it easier. Were all dances like that? Based upon music? He didn't know, really. He never listened to music much. He'd heard some through his travels, and back when he and his father and brothers... and Metis... had been driving to India, they'd played the radio to help pass the time, but it had always been more like background noise for him, because he hadn't, at the time, had his translation necklace, and so hadn't been able to understand any of the words of the songs.

And also, listening to music was such a carefree, leisurely activity, that he supposed he'd never gotten all that interested in it. He was something of a busybody when it came down to it, and so wasn't the sort of person to just sit and relax often or for very long. He was always too antsy to stay still for any length of time without doing something else alongside it like reading or talking. Just listening to music, no matter how pleasant on the ears, just seemed like wasting time that could be well-spent on other things.

"You know, usually the man is supposed to lead." He blinked, surprised with himself. He was rarely comfortable enough, when so physically close to Sif, to get lost in his thoughts like that.

"Should I-?" She shook her head, grinning playfully.

"I said usually. That isn't to say a woman doesn't enjoy taking control from time to time." She gave him an indecipherable look, with an odd grin, and there was something about the tone of her voice that told him there was more to what she was saying, but he didn't know what. So he just nodded awkwardly and cleared his throat. She looked slightly disappointed at his lack of response, and then her gaze flicked distractedly away from him. "It's time to change."

"Huh?" She pushed him off, slightly, spinning away from him, and he realized she meant everyone was changing partners. He turned away, biting down on the flare of disappointment, and with a badly-suppressed yelp, found himself pulled up into someone else's arms. He jerked slightly, and Moo grinned at him.

"Having fun Romeo?"

"Shut up." He kept his hand higher up on Moo's side than he had with Sif; it was awkward, but he was more comfortable dancing with Moo than with the beautiful Asgardian, no matter the strangeness. When you had lived nonstop with someone while traveling, and had to face the inevitable uncomfortable situations that would arise when the only place you could find to rent for a night had no door on the bathroom (or no proper bathroom at all, in a few unfortunate cases), there weren't likely to be many situations afterwards that bothered you. Although he was mildly surprised that the Arab was content to dance in the woman's role (especially since, even with that blond, he'd danced the men's steps).

"You were smiling a lot." He didn't answer, and instead led his brother through the next turn, eyes scanning the other dancers. Fandral was dancing with said blond male he'd seen with Moo earlier, looking very uncomfortable (Harry supposed he had a strict preference for women), and Sif was dancing with another woman wearing a purple dress, and she was dancing in the male role. He wondered at that, a little. Muhammad had talked very openly about sex with him, and had made it very clear the gender of his partner didn't particularly matter, and Seamus had been with boys and girls both when he was in school (though he was the only one Harry had known who had). That said, he didn't know the level of tolerance the wizarding world had as a whole (two people's views, four if you counted the twins, were hardly enough to judge an entire society by); he wasn't nearly so blind as not to realize that some people out there had a problem with it. All the same, at the yule ball, all the dance matches had been between a male and a female, but here-

The Asgardians didn't seem to care at all. Most of the dance pairings were men and women, but there were more than a few people dancing with someone of the same gender. Maybe the Asir were very open-minded? Or did they just not equate dancing with sex? He knew in some cultures they only ever danced with someone of the same sex. Perhaps the Asir just had no societal rules on the subject?

"That's a good thing, you know." He looked back up at Moo. "You smiling. I like to see you happy." The sudden seriousness on the Arab's face threw him for a loop.

"Really? With as much as you like to insult me I never would have thought so." He told him blandly. Muhammad laughed.

"I only insult you because you make it too easy idiot." Harry would have replied, but he was cut off as they were spinning away from each other, and he found himself with a new partner in the form of a cherry-blonde-headed girl. She looked like a young teenager, maybe a little younger, and she was so much smaller than him that he had to bend slightly to dance with her. She giggled at him and he smiled at her and complimented her green dress. He could see a few people snickering at him for his new dance partner (Fandral and Volstagg most notably, the latter having claimed a spot near the food table), but he paid them no mind, and on the next twirl, he lifted the girl right off the ground; causing her to squeal with laughter.

After the young girl he wound up dancing with a lady with short black hair who looked very amused to be dancing with a man shorter than herself, and when, after that, he found himself with Sif again, he had calmed down enough to be actually enjoying himself. This time when they settled together and spun, Harry laughed rather than blushed.

The best part was later in the evening, when the animagus tiredly decided it was time to leave the party, and Sif said goodbye by kissing him on the cheek.

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"King Odin?" The old god looked up from his book. It was odd to think that a King would spend his time in the library, or doing mundane things, but then, Harry himself was supposedly a king, and he liked to read himself, so he really had no room to talk.

"King Black. Come," Odin waved a hand at one of the chairs at his table. "sit with me." Harry did so, settling himself down. The chairs here had become rather familiar to him over the past few months; he spent a good deal of his free time in the library. "Was there something you needed?"

"I was wondering if I and my brothers might be able to return to Earth." Odin frowned and Harry clarified. "Not for good, not yet, but maybe for a week or two, to visit family and such. Since the bridge is back in working order, I thought it would be nice to go back for a bit." Odin nodded.

"Of course. I imagine it must be a bit lonely for you here." Harry thought of Thor and Sif and Loki, and the warriors three.

"Not that lonely. I just miss the rest of my family." He smiled, and Odin smiled back.

"I understand." Harry nodded. The god had confided in him that he hadn't realized just how much he missed his youngest son until he began visiting and speaking with him again. Their first few visits had not gone well, and for a time Loki had been in a foul mood whenever Harry went down to see him, but eventually they seemed to have managed to settle things between them; at least enough to speak properly without the things in Loki's cell needing repairs or being destroyed completely the next time Harry came to the dungeons. "I will tell Heimdall to let you pass when you wish."

"Thank you sir."

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"You're leaving?" There was a startling note of betrayal to Loki's voice.

"Just for a couple weeks, and then I'll be back." The god stared down at him, standing for once, and thus putting their eye-levels far from even. Harry had to cran his neck to meet the trickster's gaze. It was bad enough the cell was higher than the normal ground, but Loki was also rather tall.

"You will return? You swear it?"

"Of course. I can't very well leave you to the mercy of only your family's company, now can I?" He grinned at him, and Loki finally smiled and sat down, something Harry's neck would thank him for if it could speak. Then the god's smile faded away, and his expression became grave, and, oddly, vulnerable. The animagus felt a tickle of magic along his skin and jerked, looking up. The air around them shimmered, but he could see no illusion. He eyed the guards. He'd bet a galleon or two they were seeing something, though. "What did you do?" Loki's magic had reached for his once or twice, allowing that connection of theirs to flourish, so he knew the liesmith could still affect things outside his cage via magic (and wasn't that a bit of an oversight on the part of whomever designed the cell? And shouldn't he be a bit more concerned about that than he was?), but until now Loki had never cast any spells in front of him, or at least not any outside the range of his prison.

"They'll see us talking about inconsequential things is all." Harry frowned, thinking of how complex an illusion that must be (there were similar spells he knew, but they were only meant to affect muggles, not people with magic, that was far more complicated), and how long it would take him to gain the skill to do something similar.

"You wanted privacy?" Harry didn't feel particularly worried. He had, to an extent, come to trust Loki over their many conversations together. He was still leery of letting the god out of his cage (which was why his ability to magically affect things outside it should be more worrisome), but he didn't think he would hurt him.

"Yes." There was a long pause, where the trickster seemed to be gathering himself, and Harry waited patiently until he spoke again. "Why not leave for good?" He finally asked. Harry watched him carefully. The basic answer was that he still had yet to do everything he came to do; he wasn't sure it was safe yet to leave Loki's side. He worried that, without him there to keep an eye on the other, Loki might do something. And there was whatever calamity was waiting for them in the future. AND he still didn't know why Loki wanted to be locked up; he didn't know what scheme the god was enacting.

But it was more than just business at this point. Loki had become a friend, and Harry truly enjoyed his company. He liked talking to him and looked forward to their visits together. There was also his interest in Sif, as well.

"Because I like it here." He answered honestly.

"And I imagine that woman has something to do with that?" The way he said it sounded like an insult, but Harry had gotten rather good at ignoring when Loki almost-insulted someone. He didn't like Sif or Thor's other friends in the least, and he made no secret of it, but he had at least met Harry halfway in that he didn't insult them outright in his presence.

"Yes. And you as well." Loki gave him an odd, considering sort of look, and then turned away, pacing a bit before coming back to the glass.

"You would return to Asgard because of me?"

"Yes."

"You would come back to Asgard rather than remain in your homeworld because of me?" The animagus frowned.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because we're friends." Harry's brows scrunched together, a sudden uncertainty coming over him. "Aren't we?" Loki watched him silently, and then, nodded slowly, a small smile forming on his face.

"Yes. I suppose we are." He said quietly, and then the illusion around them fell. "I wish you luck on your journey. May you enjoy your trip home." He waved his hand in dismissal, and Harry, after a moment of hesitation, left.

He couldn't help but feel that something very important had just occurred, but he didn't know what it was.

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Harry hadn't met Heimdall before (though he had heard of him during his time in Asgard), but something about the handsome dark-skinned god, with his startling golden eyes, was eerily familiar, and Harry learned something from meeting him.

Yes, he WAS perfectly capable of being attracted to men. Heimdall was very handsome, and he felt that warmth in his chest and stomach when he met him that he had come to associate with being around Sif, albeit a muted version. He had wondered about that. He had never really been attracted to men before (Actually, if he was going to be completely honest with himself, he may have had a tiny crush on Bill back when he first met him. A very very very tiny one, that he was certain had since faded), and it had struck him that thus far, those males he'd found aesthetically pleasing before removing the chastity charm, who he'd been around since, hadn't really caught the attention of his libido.

So it was both informative and embarrassing to realize that they could.

He smiled anxiously at the golden-eyed god, who smiled back at him in a way that was rather too knowing for his comfort.

"Welcome to the gates of Asgard, Harry, son of Sirius." The animagus stiffened, eyes narrowing. He had never talked to anyone here about his parentage, and in the few conversations where family came up, he had spoken of Arthur and Severus (thoroughly confusing Thor's friends), but not Sirius. Oh he had spoken of Padfoot, but only Padfoot the prankster, and Padfoot, his godfather. As if Heimdall could read his mind (which, with a quick scan of his occlumency shields, he was sure he couldn't), the god added: "There is little my eyes do not see, your majesty." He had heard something to that effect. When he had asked Embla the librarian about the gatekeeper, she had described him as 'the one who sees all'.

Harry hadn't realized at the time that she really did mean all.

"As long as you've a better control over your speech than your sight, I suppose I'm not bothered." He probably still wasn't skilled enough to take on an experienced Asgardian without magic, but there was a clear threat in his voice all the same. Heimdall dipped his head in acknowledgement.

"I am bound by the Laws of Yggdrasil. I could no more share your secrets than I could those of Asgard's King." Harry nodded cautiously.

'He's being honest, though I couldn't be certain what he means by the 'Laws of Yggdrasil'.' Tom hissed mentally at him. His gaze flicked to the black snake curled around his waist.

'Yggdrasil is the world tree, that they believe all realms are connected to. It's supposed to be the origin of life and the center or the universe. At least, according to Loki.'

'But the laws?'

'That, I don't know about.'

"Can we just get this shit over with?" Harry looked over at Moo. He had grown especially foul-tempered and reclusive these last few days. As Harry understood it, he had run out of cigarettes. The animagus himself had smoked his last one more than a week ago, and had felt antsy ever since, like there was an itch in his in veins, and maybe a bit more grumpy in the mornings than was typical of him. Smoking was relaxing; a way of winding down after a hard day of training with his beautiful slave driver, or a good way of waking up in the morning time.

He would need to make sure they stocked up on them, so they could avoid an even-harder-to-be-around Muhammad in the future.

Heimdall looked amused, rather than offended, and nodded sharply.

"Of course. Come." They followed him into the large, odd building, and Harry studied their surroundings. The room was dome-shaped within, the walls and ceiling constructed of large, circular golden plates each spinning and bobbing slowly in place. His eyes roved over them with interest. As they moved, they revealed spaces between them, through which he could see what almost looked like a night sky, which didn't match up with the fact that it was currently daytime.

A large sort of stage, also circular, sat at the back of the room, and the wall behind it was cut open in the shape of an arched doorway, the open space beyond also revealing what looked like the night sky. Around the opening were huge, lazily spinning golden rings, each with etched symbols and twisting lines; Harry recognized some of them, but not all. He was curious, itching to study them, but was not sure he would be allowed to. Just in front of the opening was a smaller metal stand, with a hole in it.

Heimdall stepped up to stand before it, and pulled from his side an enormous broadsword. He set it into the hole, and turned it, like a key. There were the clicking sounds of some great mechanism, and then the rings around the archway began to spin faster, and the archway itself began glowing white, the magical light filling in the opening.

"I will summon you back in fourteen days. You need only call my name when you are ready." Heimdall told them. The light spread outwards, and the twins shuffled nervously closer to Harry. As the light filled the room, he was forced to cover his eyes. "Journey well." He felt the magic then, bright and powerful. It didn't latch onto his core the way the tesseract had, but instead cocooned around him. He had a moment where he felt trapped, but couldn't move or cry out, and then there was a sort of rush. It felt like he was falling rapidly. It stopped almost as quickly as it had started, and when it was done, the light faded, and Harry blinked, looking around to find they were standing on a helipad, twisting runic markings scorched into the blacktop around them. He looked about, trying to judge where the heck they were. A vast city sprawled out below them.

"Stark Tower." He muttered.

"That wasn't so bad." He gave an affirmative hum to George's assessment.

"Better than a portkey." Fred added.

"Better than the trip there." Moo grumbled. Harry felt something bitter in his throat, blue scales flashing in his mind and the serpent around his hips seeming to grow heavier, and turned away, walking towards the entrance into the tower; they couldn't exactly hang out on the roof forever.

"Come on. Tony probably already knows we're here."

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Harry glanced nervously up at the ceiling for what had to be the dozenth time. Tony caught the motion and rolled his eyes with a sort of fond smirk on his lips. Harry sat at the bar in the main living floor, Tony on the other side clinking through glasses and various containers of alcohol, playing bartender; a moment later, a bottle was slid down the counter. Harry's hand shot out reflexively to stop it. He blinked. Tony popped open his own bottle, and came around the bar to sit next to him. He took a sip and motioned for Harry to do the same. His beer, or whatever it was, tasted like limes and bread.

"Chill out midget. Jarvis isn't going to pop out of the ceiling and get you. Right Jarvis?"

"I'm afraid I have no body with which to do so, sir." Harry jerked a little at the voice. It was... unnerving to hear someone speak without being able to see them. Harry knew, objectively speaking, after the AI had startled the crap out of he and his brothers when they arrived, and Tony had explained, that Jarvis couldn't be 'seen' because he wasn't a real person, but it still made him nervous.

It certainly didn't help that he was already on edge because 'Happy' (that was, apparently, Tony's driver), was on the way to the tower after having picked Bruce up from a free clinic he liked to volunteer at. It would be the first time Harry would be seeing his adopted brother since he had left him for Asgard without any warning. He had felt guilty about it ever since, but back in the realm of the Aesir, it had been easy to push it to the back of his mind. But now, with the prospect of seeing him again looming before him, that guilt reared its vile, ugly head and twisted his stomach into painful knots.

He took a bigger swig of his drink, hoping it was strong enough to take the edge off his anxiousness.

"He's not angry you know." He looked at the billionaire. "Bruce." He clarified. "He was freaked out and confused at first, and he's been really worried about you, but he was more disappointed than upset, when I told him about Loki." Sometimes disappointment is worse than anger, though, Harry thought to himself.

"You told him about Loki?"

"Me and your old man did. Only him though. The two of us and Logan haven't told anyone else. We weren't sure who we could trust to keep it quiet, especially with the shitstorm we had to deal with after you left, or what you planned to do about it yet."

"You trust me to make the decisions on this?"

"I trust that you have a better understanding of magical criminals than I do." Harry eyed him, and he tilted his head. "Severus told me about that war you were involved in. He said you fought. The way I figure it, if you can win a war as a teenager, you can manage a magical god playing guilty when he's not. Speaking of, you made any headway on that? You've been in Asgard for what, six months now?"

"Give or take... And sort of. Loki plays things close to the vest. He and I... I guess you could say we've become friends, but I don't understand his motivations yet, at least not completely. I'm getting closer though, or at least I think I am." Tony chuckled and leaned back on his stool a bit, taking a swig of his drink.

"Making friends with that bag of crazy-" He shook his head and Harry frowned at him.

"He's not-" A door opened, interrupting their conversation, and they both turned. Across the large, open space, Bruce stood in the doorway. He didn't move for a long moment, and even as Harry slowly stood up, he felt his stomach plummet. Then Bruce was moving, walking quickly across the room and around the furniture, and for a moment, Harry thought his brother was going to punch him.

But he hugged him instead, and Harry felt like he lost a full stone as the relief washed over him.

"I'll just, uh, step out for a moment." He heard Tony say awkwardly, but he was too focussed on the smell of medicine and hospital cleaner, and sweat, to hear him leave. It was horrid, but a scent had never made him feel more at home.

"You stink." He said in a wobbly voice. Bruce shook against him, a chuck filling the air. He pulled back, his hands still on Harry's arms.

"Well, you're no spring chicken." He was smiling, and it put Harry at ease, but he still had to ask, feeling ill as he did.

"You're not angry?"

"Of course I am." His stomach plummeted. "But I'm not going to yell at you, and I'm not going to stop being your brother either." Harry looked away. Bruce was good at figuring out exactly what was bothering him. "I just want you to explain it to me yourself because Tony tried to, but he didn't know everything, and Sev mentioned a magical connection, but I don't think he understood it properly, so I want you to tell me what's going on."

"Well, it's kind of complicated."

"So make it simple. Let's start with that connection, since that worries me the most right now. Explain it to me." The animagus scratched his head.

"Well, I can't say that I completely understand it myself, but, it's like this-"

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"Maybe he feels like he needs to be punished."

"Huh?" They had, at some point in their discussion, moved to the comfortable couches Tony had. Bruce was leaned back, swirling around a half-drunken beer, and Harry sat cross-legged on the armchair closest to him, hands in his lap.

"He might feel like he needs to be punished." The Doctor repeated. "Allowing himself to be locked up might not be a scheme at all. It could be some sort of atonement on his part."

"For the invasion? But that wasn't exactly his fault, I mean-" Bruce shook his head.

"People blame themselves for things that aren't their fault all the time. And even if he didn't, there's still the things he did before then. Didn't he try to take over Asgard or something?"

"Or something..." Harry muttered. He and Thor had spoken about it once, when Harry's curiosity had finally outweighed his desire to mind his own business. Apparently, Thor had been banished to Earth after attempting to kill all the frost giants. During that time, Loki had poisoned the King, not with the intention of killing him, but to knock him out. While Odin was unconscious, Loki took the throne, and conspired, first to help the frost giants retrieve something called the cask of ancient winters, and then, later, after learning of his parentage and having a breakdown, he had tried to finish what Thor started. All behind Odin's back and against his wishes. None of it made much sense to Harry; Thor had been too unknowing about Loki's motives and hadn't had a strong grasp of the timeline of events. He was certain there was a lot more to it than what the god of thunder had revealed. There was something deeper there that, either no one knew, or no one was talking about.

"So maybe he feels guilty for that?"

"Maybe. That might be part of it, but... I just feel like there's more to it. There's some secret Loki's keeping from me and it's like there's this big puzzle and I need that last piece to finally solve it. My instincts..." He trailed off, unable to articulate his thoughts on the matter.

"If your gut says there's more to it, then there's more to it. Just try not to get so caught up in the mystery that you start overlooking the things right in front of you." The animagus nodded distractedly. There was a quiet moment, and then he shook his head to clear it, his gaze sliding across the room to the black serpent curled up in a patch of sunlight on the other side of the room.

"I need to go see Father." He said, dreading it as much as he had dreaded seeing Bruce, but for far different reasons. He wasn't looking forward to explaining to Severus that his former master had risen again, albeit with no intentions of taking over the world and causing a mass genocide this time. The situation would be even worse if his dark mark had reappeared.

Had he spent these last six months looking at a dark snake and skull motif on his arm and feeling dread? Had he been searching for Voldemort? Did he have some inkling of what had happened?

Harry didn't know, and neither did Tom. The former dark lord had told him how he had been able to feel the dark mark before, at least slightly, and how he had been able to draw on that connection to summon his followers. Since he had come back as a snake, he told Harry he hadn't felt anything. It was possible, he'd explained, that the dark mark would no longer respond to him because he was using Metis' body as his vessel, and because his magic was changed by that. But it was just as likely that the dark mark did respond to him, and, for the same reasons, he simply could no longer feel it. Until they saw Severus and got a look at his forearm, there would be no way to tell for certain.

And Harry knew that meeting would not go well, once his Father realized just who the black snake with him was.

"Yes you do." Bruce agreed firmly. "He's missed you, you know." Harry nodded, allowing himself a small smile.

Maybe Tony would let him leave Tom in the tower, and he could put off telling Severus.

Just for a day or two.

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Oh Harry, that might not be the best idea. Do you not remember what happened the last time you kept important secrets?

Okay, so the beginning of this chapter, with the dancing, was actually a lot of fun to write, and I kept imaging awkward-Harry in my head and busting up laughing while I wrote it. My family thought I was either losing my mind or writing porn.

I'm still not sure how I feel about pairing Harry and Sif together, but I actually have a plan for it now, and I despite my reservations, I actually really enjoy Sif as a character. I'll try to get a bit more in about her, some character building, but I don't want to do too much, since we all know it doesn't last, and because this fic has so much else going on.

So, I've seen the trailer for Avengers 2 (I think I mentioned that last chapter), and although I'm excited, I haven't determined if I'll include any of the Avengers 2 plot in this fic. If I do, I'll likely be changing it quite a bit; especially since it looks like Marvel plans to take the team through the civil war plot later on (after Avengers 2, into the next Captain America movie), where Iron Man and Captain America are on opposite sides, which, in the more recent comics, resulted in Cap's death. It's a very dark place to take things, and, while I'm weighing my options right now, I likely won't come to a decision until AFTER the movie is out and I've had a chance to see it.

But I'm not going to worry about that right now.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I'll see you all once I've finished writing the next one.

Sincerely,

Mr. Hate

P. S. I've been working on a companion piece to this one here and there when the writer's block hits me for this. The piece is focused on Muhammad, and his views and thoughts starting from when he meets Harry onwards. I know a lot of you have said you like his character, so do you think that's the sort of thing you'd be interested in? Let me know your thoughts.