THANK YOU TO ALL MY LOYAL READERS AND EVERYONE WHO HAS REVIEWED!
Beta: Zerubel
There's some real plot happening in the later part of this chapter. It snuck up on me honestly. I was planning on dragging things out a bit more before I added what I did, but Odin and Tom had other plans, and I decided to just roll with it.
This was a really interesting chapter to write. Every once in a while I have a chapter that practically writes itself, and this was one of those. A lot of thanks for that goes to my beta for helping me work through my ideas. She gets my creative juices going.
Anyways, I have a quick notice to give. Back in Part 4, Chapter 9, when Harry was breaking the control in Loki's mind and saw some of his memories, Loki's thoughts suggested that he had already killed Laufey when he confronted Odin about his parentage, but he hadn't. I played it off at the time, but the fact of the matter was that I hadn't seen the first Thor in a while and I got my timeline messed up. I've gone back and fixed that now, but I've left the rest of that chapter untouched.
That's all I've got to say for now, so let's get on with it.
Enjoy.
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"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Harry crouched next to Fred, who was peeking around the corner of one of the walls. Across the way, a pair of guards were doing a pretty good job of hiding their amusement.
"He started it." The redhead countered. Harry had witnessed a prank war or two in his time around the twins, but never one they'd had against each other (he hadn't known they'd ever be inclined to). But George had transfigured Fred's favorite pair of socks into something else (apparently; Harry hadn't witnessed the incident himself), and so Fred had enlisted Harry's help to get his revenge. His own transfigurations weren't the best, but Fred's were even worse, so he'd needed help to turn a multitude of stones into perfect marbles. They all wound up white and very plain looking, but they only needed to be round and glass, and Harry had managed that just fine. The rest of it had been charm work, and he did it all without any further help.
The marbles were made invisible, or as close to it as was possible (there was still a sort of wobbly outline to them, but it was hard to see), and set to fall and fill a large section of floor in the hall when a barrier spell was tripped. That same section of floor had been layered with cushioning charms, and also a spell that caused objects, and people, to bounce slightly, because, in Fred's words: "I want to humiliate him, not hurt him."
Now they were just waiting. Fred had sent his brother off to the market to get him something. Harry didn't know what or how he had managed that without it being suspicious. According to Fred, they always used the same hall to get back, to keep from getting lost, so now here they were, watching said hallway and waiting for George to come along and set off the trap.
"He's coming." Maybe, at least. Harry could hear footsteps, but they felt a little heavy to be George...
"What're you doing?" They both jumped and spun, finding the other redhead behind them. He was grinning at them. There were still footsteps in the hallway though, and, recovering quicker than Harry, Fred cursed.
"Oh shit." In an abrupt move that looked almost instinctive, he lurched forward, grabbed George by the arm, and they took off running, leaving Harry to blink owlishly after them. Then his eyes widened and he spun around the corner-
Just in time to hear the clacking as the marbles fell and Thor went tumbling to the ground, flailing about when he tried to find enough purchase to get back up. It startled a laugh out of him before he could help it and clamp his hands over his mouth. Thor looked up-
"LOKI!" He roared the word, and then stopped, his eyes falling on Harry, whose grin had slid off his face. He seemed to realize all at once that it wasn't his brother standing there, and couldn't, in fact, be his brother at all given the trickster's imprisonment. He looked to be suddenly at a loss, and Harry winced and came forward to banish the marbles and help him up. He wasn't sure how to go about getting rid of Fred's charms on the floor so he didn't, and the ground felt oddly squishy for tile beneath his feet. He helped Thor up and took a step back, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.
"Sorry. It wasn't you we were trying to prank. You alright?" The Thunderer nodded, looking a little off, and then abruptly he chuckled.
"It was a good trick." He said, grinning, though the expression looked a bit melancholic. Harry smiled back.
"I'll send Fred your compliments." He snorted, familiar by this point, like most of the palace's inhabitants, of the twins mischievous ways.
"They remind me of my brother, the way he used to be." Harry shifted, uncertain of what to say. "It's a good feeling." He shook his head a little, as though to clear it. "May I eat with you and your brethren tonight? I'm sure they've many good stories to share." Harry chuckled.
"Sure."
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"You have to calm your seidr as much as possible before you cast. It's turbulent, and easing it will increase the effectiveness of your healing. Don't flood the spell with power. Just a very small amount at first, and then build it up until you see that the spell is not working as well, then pull back just a bit. Healing spells are about calm and precision, the more you have of each, the better the spell will work." Harry nodded, keeping his eyes closed in very light meditation as she'd previously instructed, and trying to ease the naturally crashing waves of his magic into still waters. He was making progress, enough that he let his concentration lesson a bit to ask a question.
"Doesn't having to do this make it harder to treat wounds quickly in emergencies?"
"Yes, but the more you practice this, the better you will get, until it comes very quickly to you. It will be harder for you than others, because your seidr is naturally wild. You will never be the best, but you can stretch what skill you have to greater lengths in this manner." Eir's voice was gentle but stern, like a mellower Headmistress McGonagall. She was a plain-faced woman with platinum blond hair and light brown eyes, and like Sif had said, when he asked, the healer had been more than happy to agree to teach him about healing magic. Then she turned, no longer addressing him. "You'll likely be better than this one at it, I think, because while you don't have as much power, your control is excellent, and your seidr is much calmer." The only surprise about the whole thing was Muhammad sitting next to him, having come along as well when Harry told him where he was going. The animagus hadn't thought Moo had any interest in healing, but he'd been listening carefully and obediently to all of Eir's instructions, and had been polite enough to her that Harry half wondered if he was an imposter under polyjuice.
"That makes sense. This idiot will probably overpower everything." Harry snorted at the comment, and just knew the Arab was grinning even without opening his eyes. He heard Eir huff, but she didn't say anything on it.
"Are you ready?" She asked a few moments later. Harry's brow scrunched a little. His magic wasn't quite as calm as he wanted, but he'd soothed it as best as he was able. "Open your eyes. I don't want you to cast any spells just yet, but focus on what you want to do; on the healing. Concentrate, and let your magic trickle out, slowly, into the stones. Then, slowly increase it, in tiny increments at a time." She called the objects she'd given them (and which they'd been holding onto since the beginning of the lesson) stones, but they certainly didn't look like it. They were greyish brown in color, and crinkled. They felt sort of soft, almost like flesh, with the wrinkled bumps giving a little where Harry touched them. It looked disgusting, honestly, but it was part of the lesson, and he wasn't going to complain.
He did as instructed, letting his magic trickle out in the smallest amount he could manage, and that was a greater challenge than he'd expected it to be. It was hard to not use a lot, and it hit home for him more then than normally, that his magical levels were not only greater than average, but also greater than he himself liked to believe. At first nothing happened, so Harry gave it just a little more juice. To his surprise, the stone felt like it moved a little.
"Stay focused." Eir warned, and he took a breath, increasing the magic further. The stone was growing, slowly, the wrinkles evening out ever so slightly. He increased it again, and it went a little faster. A bit more and it moved quickly, evening out fully, the color even changing to a richer, more natural brown. Then, abruptly, it stopped, and he grinned, sure he'd done it.
... Until he looked at Muhammad's. His had turned a vibrant red color, and was slightly transparent, like a perfectly round gem. Moo looked proud, and the animagus' face fell a bit. Oh.
"It's alright." Eir's voice was kind and soft. "You did much better than I expected. You just overshot it a little. There's a balance between not enough and too much, and between healing too quickly and too slowly. You were off, but not as badly as I would have thought you would be." She smiled, and touched his stone. It lost color and scrunched back up. "You're doing wonderfully, just try again. It takes practice." Harry nodded, and focussed again on his ugly stone, determined to get even a little better.
He knew he'd never be a healer, but if someone was hurt, someone he cared about, and Mitera forbid he was the only one there, he didn't want that person to die because of his lack of skill.
She turned to Moo, speaking quietly with him and though he could have listened Harry drowned her out instead. He carefully went through the process again with a frown, but the result was the same. If anything the brown wasn't as rich this time before it stopped. He grimaced, and there was a chuckle. When he looked up it was to find one of the other healers there, one he'd seen a couple times but never spoken to.
"It's alright. It took me a long time to get the hang of it myself. That's why I'm only a Healer's assistant." He blinked, and then his eyes widened. Oh. He had assumed, when he'd first seen the Asgardian, that this healer was a woman like the others, but he had a man's voice. He was tall and had long brown hair in a loose tie. It was smooth enough it was practically the opposite of Harry's own. His eyes were hazel, and his appearance was very androgynous, more pretty than handsome; although now that Harry looked closer he could see that the man's jawline was harder than he'd thought, and that his shoulders were wide.
"You're not a full-fledged healer?" The man shook his head, and sat down on the floor next to Harry, crossing his legs, his healer's robes (they covered more of him than with most of the other healers, with only his neck and head, and the very tips of his fingers visible) pooling around him on the floor.
"No. I can use the soul-forge well enough and my healing spells are okay. I'm better at magicless field-dressing than most. But I can't use the more sensitive spells, and even the weaker one's don't work as well as they're meant to. I get by, I just have to cast the spells more than once sometimes." Harry nodded. That certainly sounded familiar.
"Too much magic?" He nodded. "It's the same for me, only my magic's sort of wild too."
"Do you meditate?"
"Almost every day."
"So it's a nature thing, not an emotional problem. Well, there's no help for that, but with practice you should be fine. There's a few tricks that I find help though. Focussing on the healing is good, but sometimes if you focus more on imagining things happen, like skin stitching together or bones mending, you can-" He gave the animagus a great deal of advice, and later, when they went back to their quarters, Harry realized he never even asked the Aesir's name.
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As it turned out, the Asgardians did have a cloth that could hold magic. As far as Harry could tell, it was actually a pelt of some kind. The fur had been removed from it to leave only the leather (which had been dyed black and was very smooth, either naturally so or it had been worked over), but the smell was similar to those giant moose in the forests here; if not quite the same. Whatever it was, the animal it came from had to be huge. The pelt he'd managed to barter for was big enough for he and the twins to use as a blanket with plenty of extra space. That suited his purposes just fine, since it gave him some wiggle-room with his design, and would make it possible to make more than one set of 'flying cloaks'. It never hurt to have a back-up.
He'd drawn out the shape carefully, pulling out one of his other normal cloaks as a reference, and was using a pair of scissors the pelt-seller had included with it to cut it out along the line he'd made. They were enchanted somehow, he'd been told, because the leather was too strong to be cut with most normal blades. He'd need to rub the edges down with a stone a little to get rid of some of the roughness left by the cuts. He had some cloth he'd bought too, and once the runes were all applied, he'd sew it onto the outside of the pelt and over the edges. He was still considering getting his hands on something flexible that might be usable as armor to layer in-between them.
His own armor was good enough on Earth, serving to lessen physical blows considerably and protect him from more minor spells, but around gods and mutants and aliens it felt a bit flimsy.
He took in a breath of nicotine and blew it out, letting the smoke take on the shape of a hippogriff to amuse himself. It was a relatively pointless bit of magic that Moo had taught him, although it had taken weeks of pestering following the first time he saw the Arab do it to convince him. He'd just finished cutting out the first cloak when there was a knock on his door. He was in his personal room then, not the living area of their quarters, and he looked up, knowing it couldn't be any of his brothers, given that they would have just walked right in. He put his cigarette out in the ashtray he'd transfigured, quickly snapped his glamour band back on, and called out:
"Come in!" It was Fandral, of all people. "Hello." He greeted him warily. He liked Fandral well enough, but the fair-haired man had never come to visit him here, and Harry had never spent time alone with him. Given this particular Asgardian's tendency to tease him about his growing feelings for Lady Sif, he honestly wasn't all that keen to. "Can I help you?" Fandral grinned.
"So polite, Your Majesty, I didn't think you were one to bother." Harry gave him a deadpan look, eyebrow twitching. The blond was smiling, but it didn't look very friendly.
"Don't call me that."
"Why not? You're a King, aren't you? Shouldn't I pay proper respect?" Harry grit his teeth, irritated for reasons he couldn't quite put in order.
"I don't want that from people I'm supposed to be friends with."
"Oh, we're friends now? And yet you didn't even have the decency to tell us about your status?"
"I thought you already knew!" Fandral blinked, and then frowned at him.
"What in the Nine Worlds gave you that idea?"
"Thor knew! I assumed- I told him I didn't want my title to interfere with our friendship at all, and I thought he took that, and told you four to treat me normally before he introduced us." He grimaced, and Fandral had the look of someone who had solved a problem. Then he grinned, and it was much more genial.
"Well he didn't." He paused, eyes taking in the pelt and other supplies strewn about and lingering on the ink bottle and the brush sitting next to it. Harry hadn't started on the rune work yet, but he'd thought it best to get his supplies ready for when he did. "Regardless, the Allfather wants to speak with you."
"King Odin? What does he want?"
"He was very pleased with the tale of how you helped the Álfar. He wanted to talk to you about it and I think he plans to ask you to accompany us to Muspelheim." Harry's brow scrunched. Another realm? Fandral caught the look and explained. "Did you think Alfheim the only realm to grow restless while the bifrost lay in ruins? Asgard is responsible for keeping peace in all the realms, barring Niflheim, Helheim, and Valhalla, of course. We don't much bother with Jotunheim either, given their hostility with us, but the others are our responsibility. With the bifrost in disrepair, we weren't able to travel between the realms, and minor conflicts have broken out between them. We're all working harder than usual to take care of each of them in short order, to make up for lost time." He paused, eyes flicking to Harry's ink again. "You... With your magic and your words you proved yourself an effective diplomat on Alfheim." He looked the animagus in the eyes. "I believe he hopes you can put your skills to use in Muspelheim as well."
"I'm not really a politician." Harry ran a hand through his hair anxiously, disturbing the braid there.
"The Álfar would disagree. Regardless, he's waiting for you, and I've been told to take you to him." Harry sighed heavily and nodded.
"Alright, let me get my boots on." He couldn't exactly go to meet the king of the gods barefoot; or rather, he could, but he shouldn't. Fandral nodded, and slipped out of the room to wait for him. "Well," He muttered to himself. "This should be interesting. Tom, you coming?" The black serpent slithered out from under the fur on his bed where he'd been keeping warm.
"Of course."
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Fandral left him at the door to a small meeting room, not unlike the room he'd spoken privately with Odin in that first time, the day he arrived in Asgard via the tesseract. The only thing unusual once he entered was the lack of guards. Not once had he ever seen the Allfather without at least two guards hovering somewhere nearby. Even when he saw the Aesir in the library or overseeing the train grounds or just walking around, they were somewhere nearby. It set him on edge a little, but Odin was sitting calmly enough at a small round table, only big enough for one other chair to be set at it. He had a tankard in hand, and when Harry entered, he looked up, and then filled a second tankard from a large jug and set it by the empty chair. The animagus was cautious, but he came and sat and picked it up regardless. It smelled and tasted mostly like apples, though he could tell well enough that it was alcohol of some sort. He muttered a thanks for it and the god smiled at him.
"No trouble at all." They sat in silence for a moment; Harry waiting patiently and Odin watching him with an assessing eye. "I will admit I was surprised, when Thor came and told me of your exploits in Alfheim. I hadn't thought you would have any interest in the affairs of the various realms." Harry almost opened his mouth, but Tom, who had moved from his waist to settle around the back of the chair, stopped him.
Ask him why.
What?
You were going to say something Gryffindorish about always wanting to help or something weren't you? Don't. Ask him why he thought you wouldn't be interested.
If you say so.
"What gave you that idea?"
"In the past, Niflheim's rulers have never taken interest in any other realms but Helheim and Valhalla, the former of which is part of Niflheim's kingdom. I assumed that you as well, were here only because of my granddaughter's wishes in regards to my son, and that you would have no interest in any of the living realms beyond personal ones." Harry frowned, and thought carefully before he answered, trying to think like the King he supposedly was. Tom remained silent this time, apparently trusting him to figure it out for himself.
"Perhaps Niflheim's former rulers weren't thinking as clearly. After all, the living realms are where the dead come from, are they not?"
"In that case one would think you would take no issue with war, as the dead coming from it would expand your kingdom."
"It doesn't work like that." The words came unbidden. "There's a balance to be maintained." His stomach clenched, eyes widening ever slightly though he kept the most of his emotions from his face. Where the fuck had that come from? Balance? What in Mitera's name? But even though the knowledge had no apparent source, and the words had rolled off his tongue practically against his will, he could feel the truth of them in his bones, and he didn't try to stop it as more came. "Niflheim is never made any larger or smaller by the happenings in the living realms. War doesn't benefit us." Tom, what the hell is going on?
Later.
"It could also be said then, that peace wouldn't benefit you either."
"Perhaps not Niflheim as a whole, no." No more mysteriously hidden knowledge came, and Harry's words were finally his own, to his relief. "But that doesn't mean I don't want peace. On a personal level, I would rather there never be any more war at all. I know that's unrealistic, but it doesn't mean I'm not willing to do what I can, here and there." Odin nodded, looking pleased.
"You will continue to help Asgard manage the damage that has been done in the wake of the bifrost's destruction?"
"If you'll have my assistance, I'll give it willingly." He nodded.
"Very well then." He leaned back in his chair and took a swig from his tankard, and Harry followed his lead with a more modest sip. "At present, the situation in Alfheim has been mostly resolved, thanks to you, though I imagine more conflict will spring up later."
"Because of the stolen relic?"
"Aye. But that is a smaller issue, compared to what you managed to take care of. It is not as concerning. Muspelheim and Vanaheim, however, need seeing to. Of the two the most concerning is Muspelheim."
"What's happening?"
"Muspelheim is a world of flame, ruled by the giant King, Surtur. Asgard has gone to war against him in the past. He has sworn a blood-oath against my house. As such, we have not been able to get involved in the conflicts there in many ages. It would taste a risk to do so now." Harry's eyes narrowed.
"Then why are you?" The Allfather sighed.
"It is the charge of Asgard to keep the peace, and so we must. Alone, there is little we can do in Muspelheim, however..." He looked carefully at Harry. "With Niflheim's aid, or at the least, the presence of its King, Surtur may be more inclined to listen to reason."
"You want to use me to keep another war from breaking out." Odin dipped his head, and took another sip of his drink. Harry frowned.
What do you think?
I think you should be careful. Tom's voice was cautious. This isn't something you can do lightly Harry. Declaring yourself Niflheim's King and using it to your advantage in Alfheim was one thing, because you didn't intend it, but going into something like this with the full intention of speaking in your role as Ruler of the Dead is quite another.
What do you mean?
Did you not mean to abandon the title eventually? What will happen, do you imagine, if you create an agreement or treaty with this Surtur based on your name, on Niflheim, and then later abandon your post? Harry just barely kept the grimace off his face.
Any agreement I made with him would fall apart.
Which could, would, lead to war. Harry took a deep breath and sighed heavily. He looked away from Odin, and the god took the cue that he was considering it and remained silent.
He had never wanted this. Not the title, not the Hallows, not the power, political or otherwise. He'd gained it by accident and then been pushed and tricked into accepting it. He'd remained indecisive about what he would do in the end. But if he was truly, completely honest with himself, he'd made his choice, conscious or otherwise, the moment Lucius revealed all that he could do to help the wizarding world, and more importantly, his family. He'd known, from the moment that power and its consequences had been made known to him, exactly which path he would choose.
He just hadn't wanted to admit it.
I understand why she brought you back now. You know about it all, don't you? What it means for me to be King of Niflheim? Tom was silent. She sent you to me to teach me how to take on the role.
Yes. But Harry, once you decide, for certain-
There's no going back? I wouldn't be able to just throw the Hallows away or give them back to her? The snake didn't answer. Just my luck, isn't it. He turned back to Odin.
"How likely is a war without my help?"
"Imminent. The only question at hand is whether we go to war in a year or a hundred. Even with your aid, the matter is uncertain." He grit his teeth, swallowing the growls in his throat, and made his choice. A vicious anger surged up inside him like a tsunami and he nearly snarled aloud. He wanted to rip Hel's throat out for this. He didn't know how he knew, but he would bet every galleon he had that she had known. She had known the moment she pushed him into going to Asgard that he would get caught up in this, that he would be forced to accept his crown, whether he wanted it or not.
He knew, somehow, someway, she had planned this.
"Fine then. When do we leave?" The Allfather looked relieved.
"Three days from now, if you're amicable."
"You said Muspelheim was a realm of fire, right?" He nodded. The animagus reimagined the rune configurations for the flying cloak in his head. He would need to add in something to work like a cooling charm, but stronger, and he would need to get it all done quickly. He wouldn't even have time to test the cloak or make a prototype like he originally intended. The animagus would have to take great care to see that all his configurations were perfect. "Can we make it a week?"
"That is acceptable."
"Alright then" He stood up. "Is there anything else, King Odin?" The Aesir shook his head. "Then if you'll excuse me, I need to prepare."
"We'll speak more later then."
"Right." He left the room, Tom slithering after him quickly. He addressed him only once after they were in the hall.
You're going to explain everything you know, or Metis' body or not, I'm going to tear you open.
Intelligently, the serpent didn't dare to argue.
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"I don't know much."Tom told him the moment the door to their private quarters had closed behind them. His brothers were gone, he could smell that well enough without even going to look for them. "She told me very little."
"What did she tell you? I want to know. I want to know all of it." His parseltongue was only just coherent, every word laced with the taste of a snarl, and his body was still, far too still for anything human.
"Mostly just that it would be my duty to instruct you. To teach you anything and everything I thought you would need to know to be King. Politics, etiquette, whatever else was needed, and to act as your advisor until you're able to maneuver through things well enough not to need me to."
"Why you?"
"Before I became Voldemort I did, contrary to popular belief, make an attempt to reach my goals peacefully. I studied politics and law deeply enough to have become a barrister or a lawyer, if I had chosen. Being in Slytherin had helped me there, and though I couldn't take hold of a seat in the Wizengamot myself, I had many loyal followers who could, and did..." He paused. "Besides that, I have experience in leadership, no matter how flawed and cruel a leader I was. But mostly I think it was what she told you about the bond between us. I don't believe she lied about any of that- the barriers between Asgard and Niflheim and it being easier to reforge a broken bond than construct a new one. I may inhabit this body, but at my core, Harry, I'm still a dead man." Harry blinked. He'd thought Tom's resurrection was more... Complete than that. "She just put me here, she didn't really bring me back. I can feel her power wrapped around my soul. I can almost hear her sometimes. When we went to Earth, that feeling was much much stronger. Her power extends further there, because Niflheim is the realm of the mortal dead."
"What does that mean?"
"It means, that the Asgardians- when they die, they go to Valhalla. It's not a true death, just... A sort of interim world- A place where they wait for Ragnarok to come, so they can fight for Odin. The rest of us, the beings of all the other realms, they go to Niflheim, or to The Pit at the bottom of Helheim, like I did."
"The P-"
"It's like what it sounds Harry." The animagus swallowed, and nodded. Voldemort, he thought, would have deserved that, after all he did, but Tom, as he was...
Well, that was different.
"So she picked you to teach me... But why me? Why am I to be King? Just because of the Hallows?"
"... It's not that simple." Harry looked at him expectantly, and he slithered up to curl himself upon the table in the room. The animagus, already calmer now with a sort of numbness (he didn't know if it was a natural reaction or if Tom was making use of their connection), came and sat at one of the chairs there. The serpent raised up his head so that they were roughly at eye-level. "Part of it is the Hallows, yes, but there's more to it. They're alive, in their own way, and they each have different criteria for what counts as mastery. The wand, for instance," He looked pointedly at the band around Harry's wrist. "normally only accepts a master who defeats its previous one."
"But that would have been Father. Dumbledore was its master, and he killed him, doesn't that count as...?"
"Ordinarily yes, which is why I said normally... I know very little, but my understanding is that Severus never touched the wand. When... Dumbledore... switched his wands, it's my belief he placed his previous one in an envelope."
"Father mailed it to me... He probably never even... So because I was the first person to physically touch the wand following the headmaster's death-" Tom nodded. Harry fingered the ring on his hand, resisting the urge to reach up and to the same to the glamour-hidden bands around his horns. "And the ring and cloak?"
"For the cloak, it simply had to be given up willingly. James Potter gave it willingly to Dumbledore, and he gave it willingly to you. It was passed down through the Potter family, and likely accepted each inheritor as its master in their own time. The ring is more complicated. It's more... picky, about who it accepts. I don't know the exact criteria for it, but I know that I was never its master, nor was Dumbledore, or, for that matter, my grandfather Marvolo from whom I gained the ring in the first place. You, however, clearly are. That's the only answer I can give you." Harry was silent a moment.
"You said it wasn't just the Hallows."
"It wasn't. There's three more things. The first, is that you have to face death and accept it without fear. I don't know if you did that when you challenged me that day knowing full well you could lose, or if it was following that when you met Hel yourself and wasn't frightened of her." Harry stilled. He remembered the Alu, in the desert on the way to Mahdi's, and knew all too well the likely cause of his lack of fear. "All I know is that you did so around that time. She gave me impressions of things more than explanations. Half of what I know is just what I've been able to figure out on my own... The third part was for Hel herself to decide you'd make an acceptable candidate. She watched you, I think, and she made that choice."
"And the last?"
"Is split in two. Part of it is for you to accept the title yourself, and the other part-"
"Is for me to intentionally make use of that title, like I'm going to have to when I go to Muspelheim."
"Yes." Harry sighed heavily, and spoke in English.
"So it's done then, or as good as." Tom said nothing, and that was answer enough. Harry leaned back in his chair and ran a hand over his face, leaving it there and covering his eyes. He felt so sick and tired of being used- of being pushed into things he didn't want. It seemed as though there was always someone there waiting around the corner to manipulate him. "Her request about Loki? Was that real, or just a lure to get me here?" Tom was quiet at first.
"I think she cares about her father still, on some level. But much of her humanity is gone. She doesn't have the same concept of death, because no one is truly 'dead' to her. Even those in Valhalla... She may not be their Queen, but she has the power to go there. If he were to self-destruct and it led to his death... He's a Jotun, not an Aesir. He'll go to Niflheim, and she'll have him there at her side. So in the end..." He didn't continue. He didn't need to.
"... He can never know about this." Harry whispered. He closed his eyes tightly. They were silent for several minutes, Harry trying to wrap his head around all of it and Tom waiting for him to get a hold of himself. "Can she take it back?" He suddenly asked. Tom looked carefully at him. "You've said as much, that I can't give up the crown once it's truly mine, but can she take it from me?"
"No. Once it's yours, it's yours to keep, until such a time as you choose to pass it on to another. And even then, they would have to be accepted by the Hallows, and Hel, and accept it themselves, just as you have."
"I don't even know what it all means. The only thing I know about being King of Niflheim is that I would be immortal. I don't know anything. I don't know if there are duties or responsibilities that come with it. If there are things I have to do. If there's some sort of power I gain with it. I don't even know if there's a physical crown."
"There is." Tom told him. "And the rest is what I'm here to teach you about."
"Later." He didn't want to know everything just yet, his head hurt. But there was a thought in his head. "She can't take it back... So even if she regrets making me King, even if she wants to take it back someday, she can't?" Tom was watching him cautiously.
"No, she can't." He continued running a finger along the ring a moment, and then actually looked at it, thoughtful.
"I think I need to talk to someone." He said, abandoning parseltongue again. "The ring, can it work here? With the barrier being thicker?"
"Hel may not be able to reach through so easily, but the Hallows have their own power. Perhaps the image won't be as strong, but it should work, yes." Harry nodded.
"Give me some space then. I don't want you here when I call him." He was being rude, but Tom didn't look at all offended. He just bobbed his head and slid off the table and down the hall towards Harry's personal room (likely to curl back up in a warm spot somewhere). Harry waited until he was gone to take the ring off and set it in his palm. Just like the one and only time he'd previously used it, he turned it against his hand like the dial on a radio, and called out the name of a man he'd trusted in life almost more than anyone else.
"Sirius Black." It took several moments for him to appear, but Harry knew this time that it would work. When he did, his colors weren't as vibrant, and he was a little more transparent than he should have been, but he was there. He grinned at the living wizard, his eyes sparkling.
"Hey there Kitten, been a while hasn't it?" Harry felt a pang of guilt. He hadn't called the man since Grimmauld, and he hadn't called anyone else at all. It must have shown on his face, because Sirius' smile softened a little, and he sat himself at the table next to him. It was disconcerting to be able to see the flicker of the hearthfire behind the man through his body. "Don't trouble yourself with it kiddo. How have you been?"
"Alright." The word came automatically, and he frowned a little. Was he really so used to telling people he was fine, that even when he intended to say he wasn't, he still responded that way? "Stressed." He amended. Padfoot frowned.
"I know a little. We can't see you as easily here though. What little bits and pieces we get are like looking through warped glass."
"I'm King of Niflheim, Padfoot, or I'm about to be." The spirit nodded.
"I knew that."
"I don't want to be. I don't- I never wanted any of this. I never wanted to be- I only ever wanted to be just Harry, no one important or special, just-" He took a deep breath, not feeling quite as numb now, but more achey. Self-depreciation like this felt selfish, but the feeling was there regardless. Sirius put a hand on his shoulder, the touch surprisingly solid and warm.
"Why don't you explain everything that's happened?" He did, as best he could. He started from Hel's initial request about her father, and continued on through everything that had happened. He told the man about the Chitauri invasion, Loki and the progression of their friendship, his time in Asgard, the events of Alfheim and the trip to Muspelheim soon to come. He even told him about Sif, getting sidetracked on that subject when he mentioned his training, and smiling as he spoke of her. Sirius listened to all of it, and when Harry fell silent after telling him the last of it, all that Tom had finally explained, he sat there rubbing his chin, looking contemplative. "It sounds as though there's no helping it. Like you said, you're going to be King, whether you want to be or not." His eyes flashed. "Sometimes we get dealt hard hands, kitten, the only thing you can do is play what you've been dealt." Then he grinned. "You said the Queen can't take it back? Even if she regrets it?"
"That's what Tom said, and I believe him."
"Well... Really a proper parent wouldn't give you this sort of advice, but we both know I never was proper... If you want a bit of revenge for it all, you could make her regret it. You will, I think, eventually." Harry frowned, and responded cautiously.
"What do you mean?" The man snorted.
"Don't you have any pride in your heritage? Are you the son of a marauder or aren't you?" He was grinning ferally, and Harry was reminded of the large black dog the man could once become. "I've got a theory about why she picked you, or rather why she accepted you as a good match for the title." He leaned forwards a bit, a conspiratorial look about him. "You've got a selfless streak Harry. If she's been watching, then she knows how you go out of your way to help people. She knows you'd give your life for a stranger. You'd make a better King than you think, for that alone." His expression turned more serious. "But I know you. You and me, neither one of us is as selfless as a person might think. You'd give your life for the world, but you'd burn it to ashes just as quickly for the people you love, wouldn't you?" Harry swallowed, and nodded. "I don't think she realizes that. Once she does, she may not be as pleased with her choice, but there won't be any going back for her, unless you choose a successor. Not that you should do so lightly, mind, but when the day comes that you find a person you think can handle the job, her misjudgement of you might make her more keen on accepting someone else in your place. I won't lie. I don't think there's anyone better suited to have this kind of power at their disposal. It won't be easy for you to find someone to replace you. It could take a lifetime, several even, but when you do find the right person-"
"She'll be more willing to let them take it if she regrets me having it." He nodded, and then his expression changed again and he was grinning once more. Harry was reminded of a puppy.
"Besides that, who says you have to be a kingly king, hmm? You don't have to be all proper. That invisibility of yours, the old stories say that the cloak could hide a person from Death itself. If there's any truth to that, it means she's blind to you when you make use of it. You could use that to your advantage, if you need to keep secrets. And your ring- You never use the thing right? Never abuse that power? Screw that, abuse it."
"Wha-"
"Ever read an old book and wished you could speak to the long dead author? Call him up. Want to make someone's day by giving them the chance to say goodbye to someone they lost? Call the person up. Ever want to know a secret someone took to their grave? Call them to you and ask them. I don't think Hel would be too pleased with you messing about with the natural order of things by conversing with the dead so frequently. So do it." Harry laughed, amused at the man's suggestions. "Have some fun and piss some people off along the way." His face softened again. "This whole business isn't the best, but it doesn't have to be all bad. If there's nothing you can do to stop it, then do everything you can to make the most of it."
"I'll be immortal though." He told the man quietly. "Everyone I know... They'll all die, one way or another, and I'll still be here." Padfoot rolled his eyes.
"Don't be so dramatic. You can call any one of us up at any time, you've just been choosing not to."
"Having you here like this, it's..."
"Not the same? Then pop in for a visit, and see us all properly." Harry blinked.
"I- You mean come to Niflheim? I don't think I can do that. Hel said I could only go so far as the white world without-" Sirius snorted again and shook his head.
"Maybe right now. You're not quite King yet remember? But once you are... Do you really think anyone can keep a King out of his own kingdom?" Harry blinked, mouth opening slightly.
"Oh." Padfoot laughed at him.
"Oh is right, Kitten." He shook his head. "It's different there. We're more solid, more real. We may not be alive here or on Earth, but we're alive there. All you have to do is pop in and say hello. No one is lost to you anymore. If someone does die, you can see them again. Yes you'll be immortal, but Harry, for you, so is everyone else." The younger male's eyes widened. He hadn't... He had never considered it like that. And if he was able to go to Niflheim. If seeing people there was more real, less disconcerting, than calling them to him with the ring...
For a moment, he was able to understand Hel's blase attitude about death in general. No one was ever lost to her.
And now, no one would be lost to Harry either.
He wasn't sure, relieved though that made him, that it was right for things to be that way. There was an order to things, and it felt as though all this went against it all, but... But like Sirius said, he had to best play the hands he was dealt.
"Thank you, Padfoot."
"Anytime kiddo, but do me a favor will you? Call your mother. The woman's been pestering me and James for the last age and a half about you never calling her up." He rolled his eyes with a put-upon sigh. "As if we have the power to show up and force you to." Harry laughed.
"I will." He promised, feeling so much more at ease than he had just ten minutes prior. It still wasn't what he wanted, but by Mitera he would do everything he could to make the most of it, and, barring that, he would do everything he could to make Hel wish she'd never chosen him. It was petty and vengeful; but he was pissed, and so utterly sick of being manipulated.
He wouldn't stand for it anymore.
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Not much to say at the moment, but I look forward to your reviews on this one. See you all next chapter. Again, we'll try for the weekend after next, but no promises. I'm too flakey to keep doing that and then letting you all down when something happens and I wind up not updating.
Sincerely,
Mr. Hate