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Rating:
General Audiences
Archive Warning:
No Archive Warnings Apply
Category:
M/M
Fandoms:
Harry Potter - J. K. RowlingThe Avengers (Marvel Movies)Thor (Movies)
Relationships:
Loki (Marvel)/Harry PotterHermione Granger/Ron Weasly (mentioned)Steve
Rogers/ Bucky Barnes (mentioned)
Characters:
Harry PotterLoki (Marvel)Tony StarkDraco Malfoy
Additional Tags:
FluffAlternate Universe - SoulmatesSoulmatesRomantic FluffRomantic
SoulmatesLittle bit of angstLike very littleFalling In LoveLove at First
SightRomantic Comedy? maybe ?I try to be funnyAlternate Universe - Canon
DivergenceCanon divergence - Thor Ragnarok
Language:
English
Collections:
Best Harry Potter Crossovers, Best Marvel Crossovers
Stats:
Published:
2018-09-05
Completed:
2019-08-01
Words:
7,228
Chapters:
2/2
Comments:
59
Kudos:
2,367
Bookmarks:
428
Hits:
30,219
The forests of Asgard
unicornseverywhere
Summary:
Harry had often wondered, thought, gazed longingly into the distance, wanted to
meet his soulmate. It was such a rare thing to have, it was said to be someone’s
perfect match, their destiny. Well, Harry thought sardonically, I would know a
thing or two about destiny. When he’d been eleven and found out that not only was
he a wizard, but he was The Boy Who Lived, thinking about the two curved lines on
his wrist had come in third. Not that people hadn’t noticed. Most thought it was a
matter of course that The Chosen One would have a soulmate, and what a lucky person
they’d be, and found it appropriate to tell Harry how lucky he was, of all things.
Then they’d remember who exactly they were talking to, get a horrified look on
their face, and back away slowly, as if from a frightened animal. Or so it usually
went.
Notes:
Hello! This is my first work in this fandom, and I know this is a bit of an
unpopular ship, but I stumbled across it at one point and it's been down the rabbit
hole ever since. I hope you enjoy reading it, and sorry for any mistakes! I checked
and re-checked this thing like 8000 times, but some things may have slipped
through. Also please take the time to read the end notes.
Aaaand although the action takes places after Thor:Ragnarok, without the meeting
with Thanos part, I will be using the original Avengers cast.
Also also please forgive my horrible title-ing skills, they're horrible, I know.
Without further ado, enjoy, and thank you for reading!
(See the end of the work for more notes.)
Chapter 1
Chapter Text
Harry had often wondered, thought, gazed longingly into the distance, wanted
to meet his soulmate. It was such a rare thing to have, it was said to be someone’s
perfect match, their destiny. Well, Harry thought sardonically I would know a thing
or two about destiny . When he’d been eleven and found out that not only was he a
wizard, but he was The Boy Who Lived , thinking about the two curved lines on his
wrist had come in third. Not that people hadn’t noticed. Most thought it was a
matter of course that The Chosen One would have a soulmate, and what a lucky person
they’d be, and found it appropriate to tell Harry how lucky he was, of all things.
Then they’d remember who exactly they were talking to, get a horrified look on
their face, and back away slowly, as if from a frightened animal. Or so it went
most times.

After a few years, most people in Hogwarts had got over it, it was like seeing his
scar to them. Though there were some that never got over that either, he thought
bitterly. When the war had been over and done with, Harry had pretty much up and
left. He felt sad and dismayed over his break up with Ginny, more than anything,
having to tell her he couldn’t do it anymore, because he was no longer Harry Potter
The Boy Who Lived, he was Harry Potter Master of Death, and he had to figure out
for himself who that was. There was also the fact that Harry had stopped aging
after coming back, and sooner or later time would pull them apart, even if they
stayed together. Harry had started trying to come to terms with everyone he knew
and loved dying. He was getting there. Maybe.

So he’d finished his eighth year, after strangely becoming friends with Draco
Malfoy and then having the realization that soon this new person he’d barely
started knowing, and actually liking, would die too. Soon would be a relative term,
but since he had eternity now (or at least until the end of death), he thought it
was okay for him to use it. He’d tried being an Auror for a few years, but he was
tired of the chase, and way too many people died in this line of work for him to
ever be completely comfortable. He didn’t even know what his title meant yet, he
just knew the hollows obeyed him, considered him their master, and he had no choice
in the matter. He hadn’t actually started seeing dead people, or having to pass
souls over the divide, so at least there was that.
After his flopped attempt at being a dark wizard catcher, Harry had, well, stopped
trying anything altogether. He’d been hiding in Grimmauld place for a few years,
but too many people knew where it was, and too many memories haunted the place, and
also there was Kreacher. So he’d left it to Teddy and Andromeda and portkeyed to
New York, the land of the free and all that other crap. The wizarding community
there was tightly knit, and a little too much on the wrong side of weird to Harry,
so he never tried immersing. Half the reason he’d left had been not seeing people
around him die. At least not those he cared about.

And then the attack on New York happened, and Harry had felt the skin of his wrist
burn for the very first time. It had felt surreal, the knowledge that one of those
in the battle would be his destiny. He’d tried keeping up with the Muggle news
after moving to New York and deciding to live the rest of his infinity in peace,
and he knew who most of them were. He knew they’d all been in New York before, and
he knew his wrist had never felt even remotely warm then. So that left him two
options, The God of Thunder, or the God of Lies and Mischief. The old Harry would
have been a little horrified at the second prospect, but his present self had no
discerning opinions over good or evil anymore. The world was not black and white,
and death certainly made no difference between heroes and villains. He didn’t
necessarily condone murder, but he wasn’t exactly a saviour anymore. Everybody
died, eventually. Well, he was not certain regarding Asgardians, but he’d have to
look into that later.

When Thor had come back alone to defeat whatever the bloody hell that thing in
London had been, Harry had known. His skin hadn’t warmed, not even when The God of
Thunder had come to visit his friends in New York. The deal had been sealed then.
He thought about it a lot. An alien was to be his perfect match, another part of
his soul, lost in the vastness of space, probably in a prison on his home planet.
Harry had had complicated in his life before, but this was getting ridiculous. He
wanted to meet him, so badly. Of course he did, it was the natural reaction to
have, and he wondered if Loki had felt it too. If his skin had warmed and his brain
had stuttered with the realization that his mate was on Earth, the planet he had
tried to conquer with an alien army. Harry sighed. He supposed they had millennia
to find each other again, but Harry didn’t want to wait. He had finally found
someone who wouldn’t die and leave him behind. He wanted to share his bourdain with
someone. He wanted to understand Loki, and his reasons and fears, his desires and
hopes, and help him achieve them - to a reasonable extent. He wanted-. Harry
stopped his train of thought. It was the first time he’d had any desire in years.
He was yearning to meet his soulmate and they hadn’t even been in miles of each
other.

Harry had a lot of ideas after that, none of which seemed particularly inspired. He
surely couldn’t find a port key to another planet, or somehow ‘talk’ to death to
transport him between worlds, as much as it seemed to favour him. He also wouldn’t
expose himself to the Muggle world in other to advertise his pairing with an
intergalactic villain, and would not seek out the most secretive Organisation in
the free world, who had kept superheroes hidden from the muggles for who knows how
long, knock on their front door, and demand to see his soulmate. After that came
the more reasonable ideas, somewhat. He wanted to call Hermione and Ron and tell
them all about it. He’d tried distancing himself from them as much as possible
before leaving, which, sadly, hadn’t been as hard to do as one would have thought,
what with their marriage and their second child on the way. He still loved them
dearly, but they hadn’t been, well...close, per se, in years. So that left only one
other person who he could talk to that would be even a modicum of help.

“I sincerely hope you’re calling to apologise.”

“Draco, hi. It’s good to hear you.” God, he missed talking to someone who knew him.
“Well I would say the same thing, only it’s not my fault we haven’t heard from each
other in months.” There was definitely a worried drawl in his voice, hidden behind
all the sarcasm. Harry felt warmth spread through his chest at the display of
friendship. Him and Malfoy had really come a long way.

“I’m really sorry, I am. But New York has been.. hectic, let’s say. It’s actually
why I called..” and why he hadn’t floo-ed, he didn’t think he could say all he had
to today if he could see Draco as well, not just hear him. Thank Merlin he’d made
all his friends buy Muggle phones before he left.

“And here I was thinking you were just seeking the pleasure of my company.” It was
like you could feel the raised eyebrow and eye roll, but Harry said nothing and let
Malfoy continue, knowing the question would come. Draco didn’t disappoint.

“What is it, Harry?” He asked it quietly, delicately, and Harry was a little
astonished, for a moment or two, and more than a little proud with the person Draco
Malfoy had become.

Now came the time to actually talk. To share his problem. Right. Come on,
Gryffindor courage, come on.

“Well. I may or may not have found out who my soulmate is.” A sharp intake of
breath was his answer. People knew these were delicate matters, and he didn’t often
talk about the mark at all, it had never been a priority or at the forefront of his
mind, what with all the wars going on and the fact it had never been warm. But he’d
talked to Draco one night, when the world had been closer to waking than falling
asleep, but wasn’t quite there yet. Draco knew.

“Harry, that’s... a lot. Are you okay? Who is it? Found out? So you haven’t met
yet.” Draco had always been perceptive, only second to Hermione in intelligence in
their group of friends throughout 8th year, and sometimes not even her, as they
were constantly battling for top of the class. Honestly, it had been good for
Hermione to have some healthy competition. Harry had been more than pleased when
she’d one day invited Draco to study with them in the library, after him and Harry
had been hanging out together for a few weeks. That had been as much a show of her
and Ron’s acceptance he was going to need or get.

“I’m a lot of things, and I’m not sure okay is one of them. You can’t say anything
to anyone, but I needed someone to talk to. Someone who’d understand.”

“Of course, you have my word.”

“Okay so I don’t know if you’ve been keeping up with Muggle news lately-“ Malfoy
only offered a small snort in return, so Harry had to explain “-well, a lot has
been going on. They have superheroes now, people with special powers, not magic,
not like us, but much more powerful than average muggles. One would argue much
smarter, too. I’ve known for a while, since a few months ago, an attack on New York
happened. By aliens, like, beings from other planets. In Muggle mythology, in the
north of Europe, they have stories of gods of thunder, and war, and mischief, and
prosperity. Turns out, they’re not really legends and myths, they are just
Asgardians, people that were much more advanced than muggles when they’d visited
earth before, and so they’d named them all powerful beings. The attack on the city
was carried out by one such being, named Loki, known in Norse mythology as the god
of Lies and Mischief, who also happens to be the soulmate I was telling you about.
His brother is named Thor, the God of Thunder, and he’s a hero to earth. Loki
failed to enslave earth, obviously, and was captured and taken back to his home on
Asgard to be trialed. I would assume he’s in prison now. On another planet. In
outer space.”
Harry had said it all because he thought that if he’d stopped, he’d have never
finished the story at all. Silence was the only thing heard at the other end of the
conversation. Then, after a long eternity of contemplation, Draco simply sighed.
Harry almost sighed in return, but his breathing was nowhere near regular enough to
allow such an action. He absentmindedly noticed he was panting a little. He was
winded, and his palms were sweaty where they held his phone and he hadn’t felt so
much at such an intensity in a long time. He was almost grateful for all the panic,
but then he remembered why he was panicking and decided on feeling dread instead.

“I don’t even know where to start, so I’ll start with ‘of course this would happen
to you’.”

Draco had never been jealous of the mark, had never cared that Harry had a soulmate
when he didn’t. It was a rare and special thing to have, and it may have had
something to do with his misplaced sense of self worth or lack thereof after the
war, but he’d told Harry he didn’t feel like he deserved one. Harry had whacked him
over the back of the head and told him he was an idiot, and yes, he didn’t have a
soulmate, but he’d better damn well find someone to be happy with if that’s what he
wanted, because he deserved it. It had taken a few months but he’d drilled it into
Malfoy’s head that he deserved happiness. None of his other friends had looked
jealous either, but a longing glance was thrown to his wrist every now and again.
He couldn’t blame them, really. He’d have wanted a soulmate too, if he didn’t have
one. Someone who was meant to be his.

“Yeah, I know, I’ve been telling myself the same thing, and the irony of the
situation isn’t lost on me, but now I need help.”

“Need help doing what, exactly?” the blonde man asked wearily.

“Nothing much, really. I want to meet him. But I haven’t the faintest clue on how
to go about it. I can’t exactly go knocking on Asgard’s door. I’ve looked into it,
they’re more of a bridge kind of people.” He probably sounded nonsensical to Draco,
but the other didn’t give him time to rephrase.

“Look, Harry. I know you don’t care about, urm, good and bad anymore, but this Loki
seems to not have the best track record. Are you sure you should be seeking him
out?” there was hesitance in his voice, and for good reason. It was almost taboo to
know who your soulmate was and not want to pursue a relationship with them. It was
like denying yourself basic human rights. Like politely declining oxygen.

“Draco, I have to meet him. To get to know him. He’s, I think he’s immortal.”
the too was left unsaid. “He’s who I’m meant to be with, maybe I can help him
become his best self. And if who he is now is his best self, then I’ll try to be
with him anyway, as long as he wants that too.” Of course, this was assuming he’d
ever even get the chance to meet the other man in the first place. Ever. At any
point in time. Harry wasn’t usually one for despair, but talking about it, saying
it out loud, made every problem so much more real. And the solutions he’d came up
with so far so much more crazy.

“I know, Harry. I just want you to be sure. I’ll look into it, and you can talk to
me about it anytime, you know that. Maybe we could meet soon, as much as it pains
me to say this, I do miss your ruddy arse.”

“I know, I miss you too, Draco. And we should definitely arrange something, but
just know, I do plan on meeting him, whether you approve or not. I’m sorry.” Harry
wasn’t really, but he didn’t want to hurt his friend. He simply needed to meet
Loki, whether now or in a hundred years, he had to .
Of course. Of course his brother would choose bloody Midgard to be their people’s
saving grace, of all places. And Loki, like the reformed little master mind that he
was, could do nothing but offer a few choice words of advice on how there were many
other realms that would suit their needs much better than the planet which Loki, in
an admitted moment of weakness and recklessness had tried to conquer, and which
would probably execute Loki on sight, the moment he stepped foot on their soil.
Thor, optimistic as always, had assured him that no harm would come to him, that
the people of Midgard would understand and accept his imperative role in the saving
of Asgard, and would therefore not give him any plight, just because Thor said so.
Loki wasn’t inclined to think so, but they’d cross that bridge when they got to it,
he supposed.

Then there was the matter of his soulmate. A midgardian, as they had proved to be
during Loki’s last, well, unfortunate visit to their home planet. The god of
Mischief had a lot of thoughts on the matter, and most would not see the light of
day, but he entertained some. He debated whether it would be worth it to even look
for them, seeing as they’d be dead in the blink of an eye by Loki’s standards of
time. And even he, painful as it was to admit it, was not invulnerable to the
breaking of a fully formed soul bond, assuming they’d even form one, as there was
also the matter of him being who he was, and having done what he had done. Most
midgardians knew to fear him or despise him by now, or both, if he was lucky. So
that didn’t leave Loki with much say in the matter. He would stay away and wait for
them to die, as morbid and painful as that sounded, even in his own head.There was
nothing to be done about it, anyway. Even if Loki wanted- No. Loki didn’t want,
because he’d learned long ago, what he wanted, he couldn’t have, so better not to
desire anything to begin with.

Loki stared at the universe behind the clear glass of the ship. It was so dark, and
cold, and void. He wondered how light could ever travel its expanse. Loki admired
light, in a way. How it was fast, and almost impossible to break, and how it was a
metaphor for hope and power. Loki had wished, long ago, to stand in the light, but
his older brother had always cast a shadow over him. The god shuddered, and stepped
away from the glass. The sole of his shoes made clicking sounds on the metal of the
ship as he made his way back to his room, not looking back. Light was overrated
anyway. What good was light to a blind man?

“Remember that time you said you wouldn’t go knocking on their door because that
would literally be the worst idea you’ve ever had, and you’ve walked straight into
the hands of a dark lord, ready to embrace your death?” Yes, I remember, but he
didn’t give me much of a choice, did he?

Harry wondered if having this conversation with himself inside his own head made
him crazy, and then he decided that no, having this conversation with himself out
loud would make him crazy, otherwise it was fine. People talked to themselves all
the time, right? And like he’d said (to himself), Loki hadn’t given him much choice
on the matter.

When Thor had made his return to Earth with a ship full of Asgardians, the
authorities of his planet had made them more than welcome, after hearing about the
tragic end of their own planet. And with Thor had come Loki, who was now reformed,
apparently, which honestly made everything easier for Harry, as he didn’t have to
sneak into a prison or something of the sort just to see his soulmate. Didn’t even
have to look for ways to travel to other planets, his soulmate was right there. For
years Harry had looked, and sought, and in a moment he’d barely admit to himself,
cried, because he just couldn’t find any way. Draco, and eventually Ron and
Hermione, had jumped in and helped him in his ravenous pursuit, but it had all been
fruitless. And then the fates had been kind enough to practically deliver him on a
silver platter. So Harry had waited, and given his soulmate time to settle, and
start looking for him in his own time, even though the constant warmth of his wrist
made it so hard to just wait. He’d waited for years, and he was not a patient
person. Which, he supposed, he’d have to deal with sooner or later, since he’d have
to fill eternity somehow, and he was pretty sure it wouldn’t all be exciting and
entertaining.

After a few month from their arrival, when Harry hadn’t heard anything or felt the
temperature on his wrist change even the slightest bit, the Master of Death had had
enough. It was time to take matters into his own hands, as it often proved to come
to.

Very well, dear soulmate, if that’s how you want to play it.

Ah, but how does one knock on a door when one doesn’t know where to door is? They
were a secret organisation, Harry was pretty sure he couldn’t exactly find their PO
box and send them a letter. So that left him with the next best thing, which also
happened to be significantly better advertised.

He popped into existence in the middle of the Avengers tower, and marveled, for a
second, at how unprotected muggles were. Honestly, no wards whatsoever. It was a
pity, really, these people were supposed to be Earth’s mightiest heroes, and he
could barge right in without breaking a sweat.

In front of Harry stood a massive, clear window, showcasing the New York skyline,
and it was breathtaking. The wizard itched to get his hands on his broom and fly
across the tall buildings, to dodge skyscrapers at the last minute, to hover
hundreds of feet in the air and look at the world, the maze of streets below him,
and feel unimportant, insignificant, if only for a while.

“Well, that’s worrying.”

Harry turned sharply at the sound of the monotone voice. A man, about his height,
wearing a shirt and jeans, with a 5 o'clock shadow, and a cup of what appeared to
be coffee was standing behind a counter, looking straight at Harry.

“JARVIS, is that man really there, and did he appear out of thin air, or do I need
to get some sleep more than I thought I did?”

“I’m afraid he is really there, sir, though I can’t quite explain how he has
managed to, well, appear, to use your words, sir.”

Harry wanted to look about and find the robotic voice, which seemed to be coming
from the ceiling, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of the man. He didn’t appear at
all worried that another man had quite literally just popped up in his living room.
He didn’t want to come across as rude or invasive however, as much as the latter
might be inevitable now, considering the circumstances, so he cleared his throat
and stood up a little straighter, turned toward the man, and offered what he hoped
was a reassuring expression.

“My name is Harry Potter, and I don’t mean you any harm. I am looking for Loki.”

The other snorted and carefully put his cup down on the counter, making a decided
tap in the silence of the room. He gave Harry a calculated look, and then spoke,
monotone as ever, but with an edge of something else in his voice too, something
Harry couldn’t exactly recognize, but categorized as wariness until further
inspection.

“Look, buddy, I don’t know how you got here, past my defenses and alarms, and
although I thought it was awesome and I’d love to talk to you about that, you can’t
just come in here and make justice for the rest of the world by punishing Loki for
something he did years ago and for which he’s already paid, so I’m going to have to
ask you to leave.”

That gave Harry pause. The pause lasted long enough for him to notice that his
wrist was practically burning, and it was all he could do to stand still and
consider the other man’s words, and not take off running through the building like
a lunatic, searching for his soulmate. Surely, Loki could feel it too. Surely, he
was already on his way to meet Harry. Surely, he wanted to, wanted him. Harry
swallowed harshly and focused back on the other man. By the way the other had said
it, it sounded like this happened often enough, and he was used to it somewhat, if
annoyed by the disturbance. So people clearly showed up and demanded punishment for
Loki. And the Avengers didn’t give in to their demands. They protected Loki. Good,
that was good. But that also meant he had to explain himself.

“Look, uh- ” words failed him for a second, until he realised exactly who he was
talking to. He thought the other man would have been quite offended to be
unrecognized in his own home, so Harry was grateful to his mind for providing him
with the right information at the right time, for once. “-Mr. Stark, I’m really not
here to hurt Loki. You see, he’s my soulmate. I felt it when he got here, and I
tried to give him time to adjust and come seek me out on his own, but he’s taking
his sweet time, so I thought I’d come check.”

He only received a smirk in return, which didn’t give much away about the other
man’s thoughts. “You know, most people claim Thor is their soulmate, when it comes
to it.”

“Yes, well, I’m not most people. And I can actually prove it, unlike all the rest
of the visitors you seem to have been getting.”

Tony gave him a once over and sighed. “Yes, you do seem to be quite different from
most people. I do still want to know how exactly you entered my home, but you can
have a seat. JARVIS, let Loki know he has a visitor.”

Loki was ready to let his head loll back, stare at the ceiling, and scream Why
me?! But that wouldn’t do. One moment he was sitting in the room Stark had provided
months ago, which he’d gradually made his own, reading one of his new books and
drinking what had become his favourite tea, and the next his book was on the floor
and his wrist was in his hand, because it was burning. And that could only mean one
thing.

Tsk, troublesome Midgardians.

He didn’t even have time to finish his scowling when the disembodied voice he’d
become somewhat familiar with started from the ceiling.

“Sir, there is a man in the living room of Mr. Stark’s floor, claiming to be your
soulmate.”

Loki grit his teeth. He’d been doing so well ignoring it, too. He’d told his
brother and his friends eventually, when they wouldn’t stop asking about the
contemplating expression he fell into sometimes, the long silences, the melancholy
of imagining something that would never come to pass. His brother had understood,
and had silently offered his support to Loki, which hadn’t come as a surprise. What
had, however, was the fact that Loki believed him. He actually thought his brother
understood, and was there for him, and the warmth that provided to his soul was
welcomed. He’d been cold for so long. The Midgardians had been outraged, however.
Only the Captain and the one with the metal arm, Barnes, had soulmates. Each
other. How very fortunate for them. They didn’t understand. They wanted him to find
his soulmate, claiming it wasn’t fair to them. Well it wasn’t fair to Loki either,
and they could judge him all they wanted, as long as they did it silently.
“I know, JARVIS. I’m going.”

And so he went, but the moment he stepped into the room, off the elevator, the air
was knocked out of his lungs. He would have gasped out loud, if he hadn’t thought
that would have been a little too melodramatic, even for him. As much as Stark
liked to tell him he was a Diva, whatever that was.

The other man, his soulmate , as his wrist seemed to scream at him, was standing on
one of the couches, staring out at the skyline beyond the glass. He looked relaxed
enough, not anxious, but, if Loki dared dream, he looked excited. Gods, he wanted
to know everything about him. And wasn’t that a strange thought, because surely
this measly human couldn’t be that interesting. But since he was already here, he
might as well see what the other had to say. He took a few more steps into the
room, and by this point he was sure his soulmate knew he was there, and was
choosing not to turn around. Was choosing to let him take the last steps. When he
was close enough to the couch that he could see the man’s profile, the air seemed
to shift, and this time he really did gasp. Not only was the man very young, (gods,
was he even a man at all?), but he was special. Very special, if the shiver that
wracked through Loki was anything to go by.

“You have magic” were the first words he’d spoken to his soulmate. Honestly, Loki
didn’t even regret it. If his soulmate had magic, that meant he was more special
than most other humans, and that served as enough proof to make him reconsider his
status on how unfortunate this pairing was.

The other man turned to him then, and gave him a disarming smile. He wore round
glasses, but his eyes, emerald green behind the ugly spectacles, were breathtaking.
It was like seeing the deep forests of Asgard reflected in his soulmate’s eyes, and
Loki could get lost there, yet still feel at home.

“You sure took your time, Loki.” he chuckled, and rubbed his hands on his jeans, as
if to dry them. Maybe he was nervous after all. He cleared his throat and stood up
from the couch in one fluid motion, and Loki had to gulp, because his soulmate was,
well, really fit. He was shorter than Loki, but more built, and he could think of a
number of things those thighs and biceps could do to him that were completely
inappropriate for a first meeting. He shook his head to rid himself of those
thoughts, for now.

“I’m Harry Potter, it’s nice to meet you.” He stretched his hand for a handshake,
and Loki was lost for a second, before he came back to himself and remembered his
manners. The second their hands touched, his wrist seemed to come on fire for only
a second, before a comforting warmth started spreading from the contact throughout
his body, and Loki had to do all he could to keep from shuddering.

“Well, Harry, you have me at a disadvantage, as you seem to know exactly who I am,
yet I know little to nothing about you.” He hoped his voice hadn’t failed him now,
and was as smooth and velvety as it ever was.

“Indeed, but we have time. That is, if you, er, if you want to know me.” He looked
uncertain all of a sudden, and Loki connected the dots immediately. Of course his
soulmate would know he’d been on Earth, if he could feel the warmth of his skin,
his soulmate could too. And thought Loki didn’t want him, because he had not
reached out to him. Gods, he had an urge to wrap his soulmate in his arms and
comfort him, and tell him he wanted him, and he was so ready to love him, but he
was so scared to do so. Instead, he looked around, and found the living room empty.
Surely, Stark must have made himself scarce before he’d got there, as he seemed to
spend most of his time in his lab or living room. He was grateful either way, he
didn’t want to be seen as vulnerable right now, or ever, in front of his
(grudgingly admitted) and his brother’s friends. But he could, and would show some
vulnerability to his soulmate, now that he’d been shown it in return. He could do
as much. He wanted to.

“I do. I want to know you… Harry, it’s just a little hard for me to come to terms
with... who you are. That is to say, you’re mortal, and I’m not, by comparison at
least, and I didn’t know-” he stopped abruptly. Could he really admit this? Was
this okay? Did the fact that they’d met change anything? It certainly seemed to
amplify his fears, if anything. He could easily fall in love with his soulmate, and
he’d be left utterly broken once the other man died. But, looking at the sincere,
almost pleading green eyes in front of him, Loki thought it was okay. If he got to
spend a few decades by this man’s side, that could be enough. He’d learn to make it
enough. “I didn’t know if it would be worth the pain of losing you, when you’d
eventually die. But I can see now that it will. I’d like to spend the rest of your
life knowing you, if you’d allow me that.”

For a moment, Loki was worried, despite knowing the other man had come looking for
him. Was worried that he would be rejected, because he was himself. He hoped the
other didn’t have some kind of hero complex and would feel the need to ‘fix’ him.
He hoped they could just, make each other as happy as possible, for as long as
possible. But then he heard a laugh, and his hopes were crushed as soon as they’d
surfaced. This was why he never made himself vulnerable, damn it.

“Oh, Loki. That’s what you were worried about? Well, actually, now that I think
about it, it is a legitimate concern for you, since you didn’t know who I was. I’m
afraid that if your request stands, you’ll have a lot more time to know me than an
average human lifespan.” An expression of warm concern took over his soulmate’s
features, and Loki wanted to touch him, to put his hands on his cheeks, and trace
the lines of his lips, count his delicate lashes, and get lost in the green forests
behind his eyes. When he registered the words, however, he was confused, more than
anything. He raised an eyebrow.

“How do you mean?” not knowing something was never to his liking.

“What I mean is, I’m a lot different from most humans. I could say I’m the only one
of my kind. Like you said, I know who you are, and you’re seen as a god to my
people, but I’m, well, something of an entity myself. You noticed I have magic
right away, and you’re right, but there is more to it than that. I won’t die, Loki.
Ever. I won’t leave you. There’s more of a chance of you dying before me, if
anything.” It seemed too good to be true, but then Harry continued, not giving him
a chance to consider all the possibilities. “The reason for all of this is, I’m the
master of death. That does not mean I have complete control over it, though I have
never tried to command it, but I will not die, as long as death exists.”

Loki stared, somewhat reverently. Here he had been, worried that finding his
soulmate would be a futile affair, since he’d die before they could even blink, and
here his Harry was, telling him he was immortal and virtually one of the most
powerful beings in the universe. The fates sure had a funny way of making it up to
him for his rather tragic upbringing.
“Well then, it’s an honor to meet you, örlög mín .” Loki reached out and grasped
his soulmate’s hand again, feeling the warmth settle over him, and thought
absentmindedly that he could get used to it, despite his preference for cold. He
bent and kissed the back of his soulmate’s hand, as was customary, and released a
pleased smirk as a blush took over his Harry’s features. Why, he really looked
rather lovely in that shade of pink. The courting process would be fairly
satisfying, Loki would imagine.

Straightening to his full height, he released the warm hand from his, and took a
seat on the couch, indicating for his soulmate to do as well. Once they were both
settled, Loki couldn’t help but notice every little thing about his destined one.
The way he sat, with a confidence ingrained in his bones, but not an ounce of
arrogance. The way his gaze was weighed down by loss, but not brought to heel by
pain. The way he was slowly leaning towards Loki, giving him his full attention,
showing interest and looking ready to hang onto every word the god said. Not that
he needed it, but he could feel his ego being stroked. He should have known better
than to think the fates ever made mistakes.

“There is much we should discuss before we proceed with the courting

“I agree, we- wait what? Courting? And what does elskan mean? And the thing you
called me before?” his soulmate really looked adorable with a confused expression
as well, and Loki was beginning to think this would become a usual occurrence and
he’d often get distracted by the beauty of his soulmate. He could learn to live
with that.

“Yes, Harry, courting. I believe we should learn a little more about each other
before we dive into it. We can begin at once if you so desire, however. I’d be
pleased either way.”

“You didn’t answer my question, but, um, okay? We should talk, yeah. And then you
can start courting me? What does that entail, exactly?” Harry’s voice had raised in
pitch by the of his question, and Loki was entranced.

“I called you my destined one , and then darling. Courting would be, well, the
equivalent of dating to Midgardians, but with more class. I do have something
important to say, however.”

The blush had returned to his soulmate’s cheeks after the endearments, and Loki’s
expression broke into a pleased grin in response. He never thought he’d very much
enjoy making someone feel wanted before, as he’d never quite experienced it
himself, but he did. He wanted Harry to know how much Loki wanted him, all of him.
Harry seemed to steel himself and answered.

“I’m listening.”

“You said you knew I was viewed as a god to your people of old, so I will assume
you know the myths about me being the God of Lies and Mischief. There are also some
more disgracing rumors that I will not dignify with a response, but just know I
have never birthed or sired any children, ever.”

Harry released a startled laugh, but didn’t say anything in return, simply nodded
in understanding and letting him continue. Loki could admit to himself that his
soulmate’s laugh was melodious and pleasing to his ears, and the pleasure he felt
by being the one responsible for it made his toes curl and a smile lift the corners
of his lips lightly.
“That being said, I am who I am. I’m sure you’re very much aware that my last visit
to Earth was not on the friendliest of terms. Although I can assure you I have no
further desire to rule your planet, and I have acknowledged the reason my actions
were wrong, I am still me. I am not a hero, nor do I plan to join my brother’s
little band of misfits. I would like, however, to spend the rest of eternity with
you. But I hope you don’t expect me to repent and think you can change who I am,
because you will be sorely disappointed.”

His soulmate gave a somber look, and nodded seriously. He cautiously moved across
the couch until their thighs were touching, and took his hand again.

“I appreciate you telling me that, Loki. You can be sure I won’t try to change you,
just get to know you. I’m glad to hear you wish for us to be together. I imagine
eternity does not phase you much, but my people, my friends and loved ones, will
all die sooner rather than later. I’m glad I will always have you, from now on. I
don’t believe in good and evil anymore, in heroes and villains. Though you could
say I was a savior at one point in my life, it wasn’t a choice I made. But there is
all the time in the world to reveal our tragic backstories to each other, right?”

Loki had never felt more relief at hearing any words in his life. His little
soulmate really was perfect. And beautiful, and strong, and kind, and his. His by
universal law. Loki wanted nothing more than to kiss him. So he did.
He leaned forward and placed his hand on Harry’s jaw, rubbing his thumb across his
cheek. His breath hitched for a second, and then he leant forward, or Harry did, or
they both did it at the same time, all Loki knew was that their lips met, and it
was like the universe was falling into place around them. Harry’s lips were a
little chapped, but so warm, and they moved against the god’s so perfectly. They
were eager but not sloppy, attentive, and so so good . Loki nipped at the other’s
plushy bottom lip, and was rewarded with a gasp and a little moan that did things
to Loki. He pushed forward, his tongue invading his soulmate’s mouth, and the
warmth and wetness was enough to make Loki stop breathing. Their tongues moved
against each other, a dance of muscles and desire, and his soulmate was clearly
experienced. The thought made Loki growl and nip at his Harry’s bottom lip again,
this time biting harder and pulling the man’s lip into his mouth. Harry released
another breathy moan and Loki drew back. He needed air. They both gasped when their
lips parted, and Loki rested his forehead on his soulmate’s. Staring at the green
eyes in front of him, Loki was home.
Chapter 2: Not a chapter - a short update
Chapter Text
Hello lovely people!
Thanks for reading, and I'm sorry for the interminable wait between the first
chapter and the continuation. My life has been rather hectic this last year. I was
in my last year of high school and had to take this huge exam, which took all of my
time. I'm now working on the continuation of this universe, and I hope you can be
patient with me until I finish it, as I don't want to post the first chapter before
I finish the fic itself. I have a bad habit of abandoning fics, leaving them in the
folders of my computer, never to be seen in the light of day again, but I promise
that is not the case for this one. I've read all the comments when they were
posted, and I appreciated each and every one of them, but I wasn't feeling up to
responding then. Hope you can understand.
Okay, enough of my rambling. The point is, I have not forgotten this fic, I am
working on it and putting all my love into it, I hope it raises up to your
expectation and doesn't disappoint after such a long wait.
Thanks again for reading, and stay tuned for more!
Notes:
Thank you for reading and I really hope you liked it!! I am currently working on a
chaptered continuation of this universe, but I want to finish it before I post the
first chapter so I know I won't abandon it midway through (like I do, being the
horrible person I am). If you want to read that, please let me know!~ I love
getting feedback, and kudos and comments are my life force. Also if you have any
particular requests for the chaptered work coming up, please let me know, as it's
still a WIP so I may be able to add this and that into the story.
Again, thank you for reading and let me know what you thought!
Rating:
Mature
Archive Warning:
Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Category:
F/M
Fandoms:
Marvel Cinematic UniverseHarry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationship:
Loki (Marvel)/Harry Potter
Characters:
Loki (Marvel)Harry Potter
Additional Tags:
manhandledFemale Harry PotterMind ControlAlternate Universe -
SoulmatesMaster of Death Harry PotterWhumptober 2020
Language:
English
Series:
← Previous Work Part 3 of Whumptober 2020 Next Work →
Collections:
Whumptober 2020, Doctor Who, Avengers, Storycatchers stories of Avengers, HP
Crossover faves to come back to, hufflepuffdemiwizard's completed works
Stats:
Published:
2020-10-03
Words:
1,731
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
34
Kudos:
2,108
Bookmarks:
402
Hits:
17,750
My Way
Altiria
Summary:
The Norns had cursed him, doomed Loki to meet the other half of his soul at the
worst possible time. Now, he must shove her away before Thanos and the Other force
her to share his fate. Unfortunately, the other half of his soul is stubborn,
perhaps as much as he is, and no mere insult will make Holly Potter turn away.
Work Text:
“I said… KNEEL!”
“Goodness, you aren’t shy, are you.”
Loki smothered the surprised flinch when a female voice appeared directly behind
him… barely. Because, as bad as it was, the speaker hadn’t come from behind any of
his clones. Not the one that stood front and center, not any of the ones encircling
the crowd. No, the voice had not appeared behind a clone; it had come from his real
body hidden in a nearby alley. It had appeared behind him, the real him, and that
should have been reason enough to flinch. Instead, Loki twisted on the spot, he
swung the staff formerly loose in his fingers in a long arc behind him. As he
turned, he saw curled head ducking under his sudden attack as the staff’s sharpened
end missed by a mile.
Next, Loki looked down and caught a petite young woman’s eyes and felt his stomach
sink into the ground.
The fates, as Loki knew, were cruel.
As he froze, staff still extended the woman- his- she was- stood with a furrowed
brow. Her eyes were narrowed in confusion thought even as he shut down, as his
entire being reordered itself around her.
Soulmates were a genuine aspect of reality: this was the utmost truth believed in
Asgard. However, it was not regarded with such blatant accuracy within Midgard.
Loki, from prior experience and from stealing the thoughts of the archer, learned
that the people of Midgard thought soulmates were a fond myth. They fantasized
about soulmates, dreamt about then, but never realized they were authentic.
Midgardian’s at best pretended they found their true ones with their ‘marriages’
and remain clueless to the reality of what a soulmate should feel like. They had no
idea.
No idea of the connection to instantly form when you found your other half. The way
true soulmates worked together as if it were effortless. They didn’t know of the
wars waged within the cosmos over a single pair being separated. Of the laws grown
to ensure such desecration never occurred again. Midgardian’s were too young to
know. Too short-lived to ever understand Loki, who had longed for his match longer
than their countries had even existed.
It served then as his punishment. For his crimes and ancestry to give him one of
those short-lived beings. To match Loki, who was all but immortal… to a Migardian
woman who’d live at best a hundred years. His match, the one he had so longed for,
had appeared at the worst possible point. She’d arrived when he needed her anywhere
else. She’d appeared, and he’d nearly killed- the Other-
No.
Loki bared his teeth and wrenched the staff back to his chest. He refocused his
thoughts, forced himself not to acknowledge his soulmate. The Other could not pull
the truth from him; if it did, Loki would lose her, which was unacceptable. No,
he’d get rid of her, get her away from here, and save her. His soulmate would live
her life far from him, she’d be happy far from Thanos’ control. Loki would ensure
it. Even if he had to recollect the space-stone to send her halfway across the
universe to ensure it.
“Did you not hear me?” he drawled. The staff remained close; no matter what the
Other may order, Loki would not allow the mind-stone anywhere near his soulmate.
She would not suffer his fate. He’d simply have to get her to leave another way. “I
said- kneel!”
He’d make her hate him.
It would be simple. He was easy to hate-
Loki summoned a secondary clone as he watched her recoil slightly in surprise.
There was a fissure of hurt in her eyes that she barely smothered, Loki was certain
no one else would have noticed it, but he was her soulmate, he noticed. Then it was
gone, and determination rolled out. Loki bid his clone to distract her- watched it
roll upward, and in the Norns names, he wished he could have swapped places with
it. The clone leaned over her shoulder, got up and close, it was a breath away from
touching… just a breath-
“Kneel.” The clone emphasized. Loki watched her eyes flick toward his clone. Her
pupils dilated, and he nearly groaned- soulmate- soulmate- not safe- not safe-
obey- obey- his mind was a whirl of confused thoughts. Loki knew which one to focus
on. Knew what would make her safest. And he slid forward, planting his hands on her
shoulders before she could refocus on his real body. The staff connected with her
skin, and though he regretted that he knew the weapon’s metal would be far better
than the stone. And then he shoved. He pushed her to the ground, forced her to obey
him, almost begged her with his eyes to do it.
She had to be safe. He had to make her safe-
“There,” he taunted, “you look so much better beneath me.”
By the Norns- Loki realized the double meaning moments too late as she licked her
lips. As she grinned with shark teeth and tilted her head upward to give him her
neck- his mind shut down a second time and- something else stepped forward-
Loki flinched back. He wrenched his hands from his soulmate as if she’d burned her.
He recoiled several steps. Loki’s hands came up as if to ward himself from the
Other’s presence as if that would even help. As the being’s within Loki’s head
brutally wrenched on his mind. The Other reminded him firmly of his place and
purpose. And though Loki’s expression barely moved, she was his soulmate.
She noticed.
She noticed when he gave a minute flinch, saw it as if he’d screamed in pain, and
her eyes hardened.
“Your mission-”
The green of her eyes burned at the sudden blue in his, and he felt magic. His
body moved despite his intentions as the Other shoved Loki’s consciousness down and
took over control. Loki was drowning under it. Like his head forced underwater
again. Like hands gripping him, pinning him, touching him- raping his very soul- he
cringed, unable to stop it, unable to resist. Not even to save his soulmate. As his
body taunted, insulted, snarled like a dog, and attacked without restraint. As the
Other realized and laughed-
“I think,” she spoke over the Other, rose calmly to her feet, “that we can continue
this at a later date, which I very much want to.”
“She will suffer worse than even you, I will enjoy breaking her- AH”
Her fingers slid along Loki’s temple, she pressed her nails gently into his
hairline and pressed her forehead to his. Loki hadn’t realized she had moved, or
that she’d extracted the staff from his hands. He didn’t notice any of it until the
Other’s sentence broke off with a cry of pain.
“-And who are you?” She wasn’t speaking to Loki; she was speaking beyond him. She
was looking into his soul, looking at his mind and addressing the Other within him-
she- she was no mortal. “Humph,” the unimpressed sound that escaped her had Loki
refocusing on her face. He was no longer with the Other; he was just looking at
her- “would you kindly, get out.”
For Loki, it was painless. He felt nothing. The Other was there, and then it
wasn’t. In an instant, he was alone and left gasping at the sudden emptiness in his
head, at the freedom he’d suddenly regained. Loki collapsed; he fell to his knees
and reversed their position from a few moments prior. He was on his knees, looking
up at her. Left staring because he had been so very wrong. She was no Migardian
woman; she was no mortal… his soulmate was Death.
And then Loki was laughing.
His plan had evaporated. His clones had vanished when the Other took control, and
the Avengers, who had only just arrived, were left hunting for him. And he wouldn’t
need them either; he didn’t need them working as a team to knock him out and send
the Other skidding from his thoughts. He didn’t need the mortals to ruin Thanos’
plans. Because his soulmate was Death.
She was the literal incarnation of the end, the very being Thanos was courting. The
reason Thanos was even collecting the stones, and she was his.
Loki laughed harder as she smoothed down his hair. She whispered sweet nothings in
his ears to calm him. He was likely having a mental break and was in the midst of a
full-blown attack from relief. Because Loki had, Norns, he had been so afraid. He’d
already acknowledged he’d lose his soulmate early, if not instantly. He’d already
believed the Norns cruel… but they weren’t. They’d given him the most precious
gift, one he by no means deserved but would accept.
“It’s alright,” she soothed, “you’re safe.”
She was Death. Actual Death. She was the end, the ultimate, the most vital being in
the universe. Loki would never lose her, he’d never have to fear. Death would take
all but him until the end of the universe itself.
He was safe.
Loki reached forward, pushed from his knelt position to wrap his arms around her
petite form. So unassuming. He towered over her, and yet she was the stronger
between them by far. She was stronger, yet she allowed Loki to drag her in close,
allowed him to all but pull her into his chest. She allowed him to cling to her
with desperate energy he couldn’t entirely control in the privacy of the moment.
“It’s alright,” she continued to say as she ran a hand over his back, “that thing
won’t reaccess your mind, no one ever will again.”
Loki was sure of that.
“You’re safe.”
He sagged, leaned over her due to their size difference. Allowed himself to feel
the wounds plaguing him that he’d covered with illusions his soulmate could
blatantly see through. Allowed himself a moment before he acknowledged that he
would sense Thor and that he’d have to deal with the space-stone still in play.
Before he knew, he’d have to explain and to claim his soulmates still unknown
name.
He took a moment of safety.
Then Loki pulled back with a smirk and said: “’let's continue this at a later
date?’”
“Or now?” She suggested without concern.
The Space stone and his brother could wait.
Series this work belongs to:
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Rating:
Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning:
Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Fandoms:
Harry Potter - J. K. RowlingMarvelThe Avengers (Marvel) - All Media
Types
Relationships:
Pre Loki (Marvel) / Harry PotterLuna Lovegood & Harry PotterNeville
Longbottom & Harry PotterHela (Marvel) & Harry PotterLoki (Marvel) & Harry Potter
Characters:
Harry PotterHela (Marvel)Loki (Marvel)Luna LovegoodNeville Longbottom
Additional Tags:
Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child CompliantNot Canon Compliant -
Harry Potter and the Deathly HallowsMagically Powerful Harry PotterImmortal Harry
PotterMaster of Death Harry PotterHarry Potter is So DoneHarry Potter Epilogue What
Epilogue | EWEPOV Harry PotterBAMF Harry PotterAuthor is not a native English
speakerNot Beta Read We Die Like Cursed Child ShouldFluff and AngstFriendshipPre-
SlashHappy Birthday Harry!Hela Needs a Hug (Marvel)Hela Has Issues (Marvel)Hela is
Loki's Child (Marvel)Not Odin Friendly (Marvel)Odin's A+ Parenting
(Marvel)Mentioned Odin (Marvel)Albus Dumbledore Bashing
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:
2022-07-31
Words:
7,292
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
49
Kudos:
1,116
Bookmarks:
269
Hits:
8,543
Gravitating to you (but there are universes in between)
DianaLunaCrescent
Summary:
Magical Gravitational Force (n.)Magical gravitation or core pull, is a natural
phenomenon by which all things with access to magic—including wizards, witches,
magical creatures, magical plants, magical places and other beings and places of
magic—are attracted to one another.Or, where magic is the Dark Matter that keeps
the universe together and Harry ends up being denser in magical gravity than
Thanos.

When a man in an obviously magical outfit and a horned helmet of all things fell
from the sky in front of him one sunny Sunday morning during his yearly existential
crisis, Harry was not surprised. He was more busy thinking about how immortality
had snuck up on him without his notice.
Notes:
I wrote this sometime in 2020-2021 completely in one night, in one sitting. I've
always struggled with writing more long-form content, despite my inexplicably deep
desire to be able to just sit down and write a 300k novel about Wizarding Politics.
Unfortunately, my Aspie's means that while I do have the patience and willpower to
read a 500k fanfic in a matter of days, I can't do the same when it comes to
writing. So, 2k-10k one-shots it is for me. I have some ideas for Chapter 2 and
Chapter 3 for this, I'll give some more information about them in the end notes.
Also, for the purposes of this fic, I'll try to be a bit more Norse Mythology-
accurate than Marvel-accurate. This means that Loki and Thor are still siblings
like in Marvel, but Hela, Jormungandr, Fenrir and Sleipnir are Loki's children,
like in the Norse Mythology.
(See the end of the work for more notes.)
Work Text:
After the war, Harry was determined to have some time for himself.
Every student at Hogwarts had decided to retake the year they had lost when the
Death Eaters were ‘teachers’. It meant that the population of the year group of the
first years would be twice the number of the others, but the war had dropped the
numbers quite significantly anyways, so no one had minded. Harry, however, decided
against it. Headmistress McGonagall had sent the letter concerning the year re-
takes as soon as Hogwarts had been rebuilt, in the middle of July and Harry gave
himself a week to decide what he would do. But, he didn’t have to wait that long.
He found out the next morning that the idea of going back to school and being
treated like a student as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't just led an army
to war, as if he hadn't just killed a man, bothered him greatly. So he wrote to his
old Head of House and declined, saying that he would be handling the matters of his
education privately. The summer after the war had been quite brutal for everyone,
the sun shining so bright that it made even the biggest lover of the warm season
hesitate to do more than laze away the summer. Harry, a hater of wasting time as he
always was (courtesy of the Dursleys and their sick pleasure of giving him far too
many tasks to finish in a day), spent the summer inside, under heavy-duty cooling
charms and went over the entire curriculum of Hogwarts like a man drowning in the
Black Lake and took his NEWTs at the end of August, mere days before Hogwarts
started and finally gained his freedom from the educational system of Britain.
But, after all his friends went to Hogwarts and he was all by himself in London, he
found himself in a bit of a conundrum. You see, his life had always been centred
around Voldemort. It had even been predicted as such before he was even born! He
was born in secrecy because of Voldemort, he was an orphan because of Voldemort, he
was raised by the Dursleys because of Voldemort, his school years were incredibly
chaotic (mostly) because of Voldemort, he became a murderer because of Voldemort
and now, Voldemort was finally dead and he was free to do whatever he wanted with
his life.
Except, Harry didn’t quite know what to do with his life. Sure, there were things
other than surviving and duelling that he was good at, but those had always been
his strongest points. He was good at Quidditch, but he had also been forced on the
team by McGonagall under threat of expulsion and he wasn’t quite sure whether or
not he wanted to continue doing it. Besides, he hadn’t played it in nearly a year
and a half and he found that he liked his life the way it is nowadays, with much
less adrenaline. He was good at teaching, as had been proven by the DA, but he
didn’t want to spend the rest of his life with hundreds of students hanging on his
every word as if it was gospel because he defeated a Dark Lord. No, he wanted to be
normal and live a normal life from now on, learning to live like a normal wizard
and trying to be as unaffected by the side-effects of killing a Dark Lord as
possible.
So, Harry Potter, at the young, ripe age of 18, decided to become a hermit.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
Harry’s first step towards becoming a bonafide hermit was to find an excuse to
become a hermit. That was a bit tricky. He would have to find something that
wouldn’t offend the delicate sensibilities and worldviews of the general public and
something that would fool his friends, who, despite being at school right now, knew
him much better.
In the end, the answer came in a way that both surprised him and he should’ve been
expecting anyway. Luna, the absolute goddess and probably the seer that she was
sent him some pamphlets on different Masteries and the requirements expected to
enter and complete one. There were quite a lot of them. Magizoology, which Luna had
expressed an interest in and was a good read; Potions, which sounded much better on
the pamphlet than they did in Snape’s class (Merlin bless his soul, he was both
awesome and an absolute git); Ancient Runes, which he really should’ve taken
instead of Divination and Defence, which sounded like a dream. The public would
love the idea of him wanting some space and privacy to get a Defence Mastery so
that he can ‘protect them better’ (as if) and his friends would probably see it as
him trying to live up to his parents’ memory seeing as they had both had double
Masteries. James with Defence and Transfiguration, and Lily with Charms and Ancient
Runes. Maybe he would be able to really milk this excuse by going for a second one
after Defence. The best part?
Wizards, Witches and other Magicals aiming to get a Mastery in Defence had to
invent 3 spells to prove their worthiness to achieve the title of a Master. This
was the way that most areas of magic improved themselves nowadays, with
requirements for a Mastery. But because Defensive and Offensive spells, especially
experimental ones, had the potential to be extremely volatile and go out of
control, applicants were encouraged to either work or live in a place ‘that
wouldn’t bring the attention of muggles to itself and not harm nearby Magicals, as
well as be under heavy wards that prevented apparating directly into the work
area.’ Harry could quite literally build a house for himself in the middle of
nowhere and live there under the excuse that he was practising potentially volatile
magic. It would even give him an excuse not to key in people to his wards, as the
Ministry forbade it. That way, he wouldn’t be a hermit, no sir, he would be a
hermit disguised as a law-abiding citizen, contributing to his country. It was
amazing! Luna seemed to think so as well, seeing as she had underlined the part
about the living and working conditions for applicants on the pamphlet. He ought to
send her a big bouquet of sugar quills for this.
After Harry put in an application for a solo-Mastery, (otherwise there would be a
Master who would be tracking his progress and guiding him but that didn’t sound
very in line with his current goals in life, so solo it was) he found out that he
would have to take an exam to prove he can solo his Mastery but then the overworked
guy filing his application looked up and saw who he was and immediately proceeded
to give him his permit for a solo-Mastery. Normally, Harry didn’t like to utilise
his fame, but he had to admit that it did come in handy several times. Not worth
the stress or the public scrutiny, but still. He had to count his wins somehow.
After he got his permit, Harry was told that he would have 3 weeks to either change
residence or find a new workshop seeing as Grimmauld Place, where he currently
lived was in the middle of London and unsuitable for an aspiring Master. He was
also told that the permit would update itself from dormant to active when he found
a new residence, seeing as, apparently, him filing his address on a public form
like the Mastery practitioners would violate some sort of law about the privacy of
public figures (which he had never heard of) and that no one would know his new
address, a major bonus of this whole thing, really.
In the end, Harry decided against building his own house because of the time limit,
even if magic would’ve speeded up the process a fair amount. But instead of buying
a wizarding home, which would’ve resulted in his address probably getting leaked
out somehow by the seller, he decided to buy an old Muggle house in outer Cambridge
and fashion it into a wizarding one instead. Fireplaces were installed, the
electronics in the house were either removed or replaced by their magical
counterparts, and a little farm was added because despite having been forced to
work in a garden by the Dursleys, he had still found it a little enjoyable to see
things he had planted grow but decided to grow some vegetables and a few potions
ingredients instead of flowers. He had also happened across a place that sold fully
grown magical fruit trees that gave produce year-round while he was looking for
some fences suitable to hold wards and now he had a brand new orchard of fruit
trees that he was very much looking forward to eating from. His cherry tree was
even a breed especially suitable for pies! And so, in mid-October of 1998, a few
days shy of his deadline, his permit became active as Harry Potter moved into his
new house, the Lightning Cottage. (He didn’t name it, okay. Apparently, the house
was built over the ruins of another house that was set on fire by a lightning
strike and because the last owner believed a myth about lightning never striking
the same place twice, he proudly told his friends and family that his house was
lightning-proof and over time it gained that nickname.)
Things were fine for about a year, he continued to exchange letters with his
friends at Hogwarts and told them about his Defence Mastery. Hermione was the only
one to notice that it would require him to change residence, but he told her that
he handled it, and that had been it, until, of course, they graduated and insisted
on seeing his new house. He first gave them excuses on why they couldn’t but as
time passed they became exceedingly obvious and even Ron noticed that he didn’t
want them to come to his new house. However, the others seemed to have had a
conference over who would confront him about it and in a revolutionary move,
selected Neville for it.Neville, despite having been disliked by his family growing
up, was still raised as a proper pure-blood heir and knew the best places to have a
private conversation over lunch in Britain. They went to a nice place that wasn’t
over the top too much and had a nice meal on one Saturday. There, he told Neville
about just how important the secrecy and privacy the house afforded was to him.
Growing up, Private Drive No.4 had never been a place he would call home and
Hogwarts, while a place he would call home, was still far from what the ideal home
in his mind was like. He was tired of the criticism, the gawking and the lack of
privacy. Now that he had a fresh start with the Lightning Cottage, he wanted to
keep it to himself. Besides, if they ever wanted to have a get-together, Grimmauld
Place would suffice. Neville had been the perfect person to understand him because
he had also suffered through something similar to him at the Longbottom Ancestral
Manor. All of his relatives, dozens of Aunts and Uncles, judging his every move to
gauge his worth as an heir to their noble house, his worth as a pureblood, his
worth as a wizard and sometimes, his worth as a human. Even though that had mostly
stopped when he came to Hogwarts and was remembered only by just how bad at Potions
he was and later on by how awesome he had been as he killed Nagini with the Sword
of Gryffindor, Neville wasn’t the kind of person to forget, to forgive so easily.
And so, he understood Harry and gave him his word to try and keep the others at
bay.Harry heard later on that Ron had thought up the ridiculous idea that he didn’t
want anyone to come to his house because he had a lover that he was too shy to
introduce them all to, which, while wrong, at least had the pleasant side effect of
finally getting Ginny off his back, who had been not-so-subtly pressuring him to
get married, of all things. Honestly, Harry had no idea where she got the idea that
their brief relationship would result in a marriage. He had found out over the two
years that she had to stay at Hogwarts to graduate that she was, 1. Far too much
like what he imagined his mother would be like for him to feel comfortable
marrying, and 2. The wrong gender for him anyways. That had certainly been a shock
to Ron and Hermione not so much to Luna when he had come out to them.
Life continued on for Harry, he worked towards his Mastery, decided to take up
Ancient Runes as a side project after reading how passionate his mother was about
it from her diary in her Gringotts vault, worked on the field behind the Lightning
Cottage and discovered that he could produce the sweetest fruits and the most
flavourful vegetables if he were to mix some of his magic with the fertiliser. He
learned how to use a bow and an arrow from a herd of centaurs who camped in the
forest by his house one summer. He bought some more land behind the house, by the
forest and dug out the earth a little to make a little man-made lake to swim in the
warmer weather and play Quidditch over. Potentially falling into water is much
better than falling on land after all. Especially since he had placed some anti-
drowning runes onto the seabed of the lake, something he thought of as a necessary
precaution ever since the Second Task. He managed to come up with 2 out of three of
his Mastery spells in a little over 2 years, significantly shorter than the average
of three years per spell and made some headway into his Ancient Runes study and
took the OWL exam for it shortly after he turned twenty.
And so, Harry finally had achieved what he had been dreaming of his entire life,
normalcy and peace.
And then, the third spell he was working on for his Mastery, his pride and joy, an
impenetrable shield spell that, by design, was meant to stand up to an Avada
Kedavra, blew up on his face.
Now, Harry was always very careful when working towards his Mastery, he was aware
of how dangerous Spell Creation could be, he did switch houses for it, but this
particular shield spell was very important for him. It was his one chance at
becoming completely normal, to fade into the background, to not be gawked at as if
he were an alien whenever he walked down Diagon Alley. But in retrospect, he
should’ve probably guessed that the potentially most powerful shield on Earth would
be able to pierce the current most powerful shield on Earth if it ever exploded. As
the shattered shield pierced his face and entered his skull, as he lay on the
floor, gazing at the roof of his workroom, Harry didn’t think about how long it
would take people to figure out that he had died, no one could enter his house
after all. He didn’t think of his friends, who would probably miss him and cry for
him when they found out or little Teddy, who would lose his godfather as well at
the age of 3.
As he lay on the hardwood floor of his house, feeling the blood that kept him alive
pooling around him as the edges of his vision slowly went dark, and he stopped
being able to feel his limbs, all Harry could think about was that, maybe, just
maybe, he could find the peace he could never find in life at the arms of his old
friend, Death, who had been dogging his steps his entire life and had finally
caught up to him.

And then, he woke up.

As he took in a deep breath to clear his lungs filled with blood, Harry couldn’t
believe that this was reality.

Because he had died, hadn’t he, he had felt the shield shard piercing his forehead,
the way his blood pooled around him, the way that the pain had been so blinding it
almost made him feel numb to it.
He brought his hand to his face, slowly so as to not irritate the injury that must
be there and almost felt like crying as his hand scoured his entire face and
couldn’t find a single injury.

He made to stand up, sick of the feeling of lying in his own blood but he slipped
on the slick blood and simply laid there in it. For a second time in his life, he
lay on the floor and accepted the cards that the Fates had dealt to him as they
laughed at his misery from above.

He laid there, feeling his blood under his cheek and hoping that he would succeed
in dying this time as felt his consciousness slip away from him once again.

“I salute you, Harry, Son of James.”

He was in a field now, an everlasting field that didn’t seem to have an end to it.
Just grass, black like ink, stretching towards the horizon and an incredibly
beautiful night sky above. The stars were bright, brighter than he had ever seen
stars be before. He had never considered Astronomy a favoured lesson before, what
with the sleep he had to sacrifice for it. But he could remember, faintly, that one
time his uncle had kicked him out of the house for breaking a plate when he was 6
and sitting outside the house, his back to the wall and just looking at the night
sky for hours as sleep eluded him.
For some reason, he could recall feeling incredibly safe that night. Feeling like
nothing would happen to him as the night sky brought him peace, like a warm, dark
blanket with stars glittering on it like sequins.

That night, he had slept the best he ever had in the Dursley House.

He could still feel that feeling. The darkness settled over him, not choking but
comforting, bringing him a sense of freedom rather than fear. He took a deep breath
then, much calmer now, and the faint scent of wildflowers filled his lungs. He
opened his eyes that he had closed without realising and turned towards the person
that would probably be able to answer all his questions about his current
predicament.
There stood a woman, silent in the midst of the everlasting field like him. She,
though he wasn’t sure about that, to begin with, seemed humanoid in design, but the
similarities mostly ended there. He could see from the neck of her black robes and
the feet barely visible amongst the grass that one-half of her body didn’t have
flesh but was merely bones. When the wind swept aside the long black hair that had
been covering most of her face and revealed half a skull, half a face, Harry
finally realised who this was.
“I salute you Hela, Daughter of Loki, Queen of Niflheim.”
“So you know who I am. Good, that will make it easier to explain. Sit, this will
take some time."
There was a black table now, to their left. Two chairs, equally as dark, across
from each other accompanied it. As they sat down, Harry, the Brit at soul that he
was, conjured a tea set for them and poured them some. Had this been another
situation; drinking tea at night, under the stars, in the middle of nowhere, with a
stranger would have been right up Harry’s alley. But as it was, he was here to
understand how immortality had snuck up on him without his notice. ‘Though’, he
thought, as he saw the ring on his finger, which had certainly not been there
before, ‘I think I have an idea about what the explanation could be.’
Hela, completely nonplussed, simply sat down and took a sip. Harry wasn’t sure
whether or not she had ever drunk tea before, courtesy of her exposed neck where he
saw the tea travel down to somewhere in her robes or even knew what it was, but if
she didn’t, she didn’t make it known to him.

They sat there for some time, enjoying their drinks under the stars. As they did
Harry let himself examine the stars and realised that he didn’t know the names of
any stars or constellations here, leading credence to a theory about his location
that had been simmering at the back of his mind for some time. His attention turned
back to the goddess in front of him when she put her teacup down.
“Tell me, Harry, what do you know about Ragnarok?”
That had not been the direction Harry had been expecting this conversation to go.
But he acquiesced nonetheless. “It is the end of the world in Norse Mythology. You
were foretold to be one of the catalysts, I believe.”
“You are correct. My father, two of my brothers and I were all warned against ahead
of time in a prophecy by the Allfather. We weren’t even born when it was seen by
Odin. So, when father had the three of us, Odin took us from him as newborns and
sent us to different corners of the Nine Realms and found ways to chain us down, to
try and prevent us from, according to his prophecy, starting the end of the world.”
She drank her tea for some time after that. Clearly, the discussion pained her,
even after the thousands of years that must have gone by.

“My eldest brother, Jörmungandr, the World Serpent, was thrown into the vast oceans
of Midgard when he was born but in time he grew so large that he could bite his
tail from the other side of the world. Odin put him to sleep with magic, which he
scorns my father for using, and Jörmungandr remains asleep to this day. My second
brother, Fenrir, was tied to a rock by special chains and gagged by a sword soon
after he was born. Father fought against Odin for both of them, but it made the
Aesir scorn him even more because they saw it as a monster defending monsters,
rather than a father defending his children. And then I was conceived, but because
the Fates had dictated that I was fated to rule over Niflheim as its Queen even
before I was born, Odin couldn’t be too obvious about the chains he placed on me.
So, when I was just born, only a few minutes old, he came to Jotunheim, where our
mother, Angrboða, was giving birth and fought my father, who had stood guard over
her during her labour. He lost, eventually, but he fought hard and I respect him
for that. Odin took me from my mother’s arms and proceeded to craft the chains that
would keep me in check for an eternity.”

Hela looked very deep in thought, then. There was none of the cool and collected
fearsome goddess that she had been when I first came left in her. Instead, she just
looked tired. Tired of life, maybe? A funny thought, indeed, especially when it
concerned the Goddess of Death.

“My body was half skeleton, half flesh, so he tore one of the bones from my exposed
arm, the ulna, and whittled it to fashion a wand out of it. He took a handful of my
father’s hair and put it inside to gift it with exceptional magical power. He gave
it bumps to symbolise the hurdles in life one would have to overcome to face death.
He said that it would be a wand unparalleled by any other because Death was a force
that no one could run away from forever and would catch up to any stragglers
eventually. He gave it the name of the Elder Wand because you would have to be
superior even amongst your own people to be able to master it.”

Suddenly, I couldn’t ignore the Elder Wand in my back pocket, ominously silent and
unassuming yet I now had a lot more reason to hate it than I used to.

“Next, he cut off all my hair, though I had little of it and had Frigga weave it
all into a fabric like no one had ever seen before with her loom of prophecy. She
resisted at first, for the Allmother is wise and knows the dangers of tearing apart
children from their parents and fears the devastation that their parents could wage
in the name of revenge. But Odin, as he always seems to do, just or not, won at the
end and Frigga wove it with soft clouds from the Asgardian sky and, inevitably, her
own tears as she cried while doing so. The result was a cloak, completely
unremarkable from afar and invaluable up close. The Allfather paid no heed to the
warnings or tears of his wife and said that the cloak would have the power to
protect anyone wearing it from Death, like a curtain of hair, covering my eyes.
Almost invisible from my sight, and that was what he ended up naming it, the Cloak
of Invisibility, eternal protection from Death.”

Harry had always treasured the Cloak. It had been an ancient family relic, a
memento of his father and a reminder of all the mischief and good both of them had
done with it. It was definitely the one he used the most and favoured the most. But
watching Hela caressing her hair with a blank look in her eye as she recounted the
first minutes of her life, he knew that this would be something he would remember
every time he used it in the future if he ever did.

“Lastly, he took one of my eyes, for the visage of Death has seen and will see any
who has surrendered themselves to the inevitable but would never forget a single
one of them. I never do. The names and faces of the countless people who have
passed through me to the Afterlife, to Niflheim, I shall never forget and neither
shall my eye. He fashioned my own eye as a traitor to me, an eye that would harden
with time and turn against me, and steal my subjects from me, even if only
temporary. And in a final act, like the final link of the chains that bound me, he
carved a symbol that would damn me to servitude for an eternity and grant Mastery
over me to any who could be the rightful Master of the Deathly Hallows.”

His throat felt clogged up, and he couldn’t even make a sound. The horror of the
lengths an obviously insane man had gone to delay the inevitable made him furious
and anguished beyond belief. Suddenly, he empathised a lot with her. He could
remember, clearly, how he had felt when he found out about how Dumbledore had
raised him to die. How he had later on realised that the reason why he had never
received proper training had been so that he wouldn’t put up too much of a fight
when the time came for him to be sacrificed for the Greater Good. How he had been
sent back to the Dursleys, even after the blood wards had been neutralised in his
fourth year, to keep him docile and pliant of Dumbledore’s grand dream for the
future.
He had gone to Hogwarts, just to spit on Dumbledore’s grave after that.
But, the fundamental difference between what Odin did to Loki’s children and what
Dumbledore did to him was glaring. The world would have gone on had Voldemort
killed him, sure, the lives of muggleborns and muggles in Britain would get harder
and the Statue of Secrecy would be threatened, but Harry had always believed that
even if he failed to kill him, Europe would be able to prevent him from expanding
his circle of influence. They had taken extensive measures to prevent the rise of
another Dark Lord after Grindelwald. There was nothing inevitable about it.

But Ragnarok is inevitable.

Odin knew Hela knew and Harry knew that. It would come one way or the other and
Odin’s feeble attempts to prevent it wouldn’t change much in the grand scheme of
things. In fact, his treatment of the catalysts of the End of the World probably
would cause it to happen even earlier. Harry, in a way, understood why Dumbledore
did what he did. That didn’t mean he forgave him for it or condoned his actions,
but he understood why he went down that route. But Odin’s actions weren’t like
that, they weren’t about preventing something preventable. They were about delaying
the inevitable and Harry couldn’t ignore the fact that Odin had absolutely no
qualms with taking his grandchildren from his son and torturing them and then
imprisoning them for an eternity just to live a little longer when he had already
lived for thousands of years. It reminded him of Voldemort, a little, whose fear of
something inevitable had pushed him to do something monumentally stupid, without
caring about the side effects it might have on others, or even himself.
Any other would say sorry to Hela at this point, even if what caused her anguish
had nothing to do with them. But Harry knew better. Knew that she wouldn’t want
pity. And so, he simply looked at her and knew that she understood his feelings
without needing words. “How did the Hallows end up on Midgard, then? How did the
Tale of the Three Brothers come to be?”
She smiled at that. It caught him off guard, a little.
“It was my father. When Odin enchanted the Hallows, he couldn’t make them give the
power of Mastery over Death to him, so he made them give it to someone worthy,
someone deserving of it. Like Thor’s Hammer, Mjolnir, in a way. His reasoning was
that if there was anyone worthy, it had to be him.”
Harry snorted at that, not even bothering to suppress or cover it. Hela smiled and
continued.
“Of course, the Hallows didn’t deem him worthy. They fled and hid in different
corners of Asgard. Odin eventually came to the conclusion, after a few tantrums,
that he wasn’t ready for them yet and that they would reveal themselves to him when
he was and let the matter go. But my father didn’t. He spent years tirelessly
searching Asgard and eventually found them all and one by one, took them to
Midgard, where he believed that there would be no one to be found worthy and that
the position would remain empty for an eternity. He made up a false tale,
intertwined with the truth to lay false trails over what they were and what they
could do, made them seem like nothing so much that, if anyone were to ever happen
upon them, they wouldn’t think too much. Or, if they did, the greed of others would
prevent a single person from mastering them all. It was a plan that relied on the
nature of humanity to be the shield against the foul nature of humanity. It was, in
my opinion, a brilliant plan, one that held true for thousands of years without
Odin even realising that the Hallows had even left Asgard. But then, you came.”
Harry shifted in his seat a little, suddenly uncomfortable. Thousands of empty
excuses and pointless platitudes on the tip of his tongue, ready to placate the
lady that he had somehow ended up as the Master of without even meaning to.
However, Hela didn’t allow him the time to do that.
“Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault. I let you access the Hallows because I
knew you were worthy of them. You were chosen by the Hallows as worthy because they
deemed you do not have the misgivings of the rest of humanity, the rest of the Nine
Realms of Yggdrasil. You are not selfish. You are not greedy. You wouldn’t use the
Hallows to better yourself. I know that you will treat the title and the
responsibilities and entitlements that come with it with honour and respect, as
they should be.”
It took Harry some time to formulate an answer to that. It’s not really every day
that a goddess tells you that you are worthy of having power over them.
“Thank you, Lady Hela. I’m honoured that you think so. But I don’t think I
understand exactly what all of this entails. I’m, admittedly, a little confused.
What exactly happened to me? What am I now? What is expected of me?”
“Not much, to be honest. As I said, Odin crafted the position with himself in mind.
He wouldn’t give himself responsibilities that he deems unnecessary, he is lazy
like that. The basic idea behind it is to keep me in check, as you deem it fit. You
are also, technically considered the Regent of Niflheim right now and can refer to
or introduce yourself from now on. About what happened to you, I have little
knowledge. I know that you are immortal but you’re not Aesir or Vanir or a god of
another Realm. Midgard has never had gods born there or ascend to godhood from
there before so the terminology is a little lacking in regards to what to refer
with to a god of Midgard. You can fashion a new name for yourself, as you’re,
technically, the first and only one of your kind. Have anything in mind?”
“Right now? No. I don’t think I’ll be able to come up with one anytime soon as
well. This is a lot more than I could have guessed, considering I hadn’t even put
that much stock into the Tale of the Three Brothers, to begin with. Also, I’m
pretty sure that I’m going to have a panic attack later on about this and it’s a
little delayed right now.”
Hela laughed at that. Truly laughed. It was a little weird, to be honest, to see a
face that was half flesh and half skull laugh but honestly, the fact that she was
able to let go of the stress that must have weighed her down for thousands of years
would do that to people. She looked a little crazed anyways.
“Sure. You do that. I’ll let you go back to Midgard soon. But before that, I have
something to ask of you. It is a little selfish, I’m afraid, but I hope you won’t
think bad of me for requesting something of you so soon.”
Harry shook his head. “As long as it’s reasonable.”
“If you ever meet or get the chance to meet any of my family, my brothers and
father or even my stepmother, please treat them kindly and help them. I’m not
asking you to go out of your way, but knowing the Potter luck, you’ll probably
happen upon one of them in the future. Just reassuring them of my well-being and of
another person possibly on their side would do wonders for them. I worry for my
father, especially, you know. I know from the occasional oddity that dies on Asgard
that they don’t treat him well there despite being a Prince of the Royal Family. A
little kindness would do wonders for him, knowing how unused to it he probably is.
Can you do that for me?”
Harry laughed at that. She was right, in a way. Now that his life was upended in
such a way, he would probably end up coming across all of her family within the
year.
“Sure, I’ll do that.”
Little did Harry know, just how soon that meeting would be.
When their conversation about the Hallows and their control over Hela was done,
Harry did three things,
1- Develop a deep hatred for Odin and deepen his hatred for prophecies.2- Swear to
himself that he would never mistreat Hela and the power of the Hallows.3- Find a
way to return to Midgard from Niflheim.
As it turns out, it was much simpler than he was expecting it to be. The reason for
the existence of devices like Bifrost was because warriors like most of the Aesir
didn’t know how to control their innate magic well enough to open their own
portals. Loki was an exception, as he had spent over 2000 years refining his
control over his magic. Harry’s situation, on the other hand, was both simpler and
much more complicated than Loki’s. He was a wizard and could technically open his
own portal to traverse realms. However, his presumed godhood was very new and he
didn’t know enough about it yet that he didn’t want to risk trying it here. His
core had grown exponentially between his acceptance of his fate as a god and now.
It had been growing since he took over the Hallows but kind of like a zit, its
speed of growth increased exponentially when he noticed its existence. Hela had
predicted that he would be a full-fledged god in a month or two and that he
shouldn’t try any abilities that came with his godhood until that time passed. He
would also have to relearn how to shape and control his magical core once again,
lest he overshoots his spells, or worse, do accidental magic like a five-year-old.
Back to how he would return to Midgard. Turns out, being the Master of Death came
with more benefits than just three items that wouldn’t leave him and chaining a
goddess to him forever. It also allowed him to become a ghost. Kind of. The ‘body’
he was inhabiting here was not his body, his body was still in Midgard and sleeping
on the floor of his workroom. When he had slept, Hela had summoned his soul to her
and only his soul had travelled to Niflheim, something that required much less
magic than travelling with his body. The form of his body had been created by the
half of his core that came with him and was semi-permeable. As a semi-permeable
ghost, he could pass through walls when he wasn’t in his body, but others could
also touch his form if he wanted them to. He would also automatically return to his
original body if he did something that would have killed a normal mortal. But if he
wanted to return to his mortal body without having to jump off of a building every
time, the only thing he needed to do was sleep. And so he laid down on the inky
black grass of Niflheim and stared up at the unfamiliar constellations on the sky,
so bright across the eternal night sky that it was as if there wasn't an
atmosphere. Though considering dead spirits didn't need air, maybe there wasn't.

How long had it been? Moments? Minutes? Hours? According to the clock on the wall,
only 7 hours, that is assuming it was still the same day. He would’ve done a Tempus
to check, but he felt like crap right now and if he really was going to have to
relearn the entire Hogwarts curriculum to accommodate his newfound godhood, he
should start with something easier than Tempus. Looking up at the roof of his
workroom, Harry allowed himself a moment to come to terms with the fact that he had
just died for a second time. At least, this was the last time. He still wasn't sure
about his feelings on that topic though. He stood up and didn’t do anything about
the blood on the floor, which he was doing his best to ignore. Instead, he went to
the kitchen and made himself some tea.
He sat there until the sun rose once again. The tea, now cold and Harry not having
moved yet. Because he could feel it now, the changes that Hela had said would be
completed in two months’ time, slowly, surely, irreversibly, changing his body into
something he never wanted it to be, completely outside of his control. His core was
significantly larger, though he would have to do a ritual to measure just how many
times it had grown. His magic felt different to him, foreign. It used to flow
smoothly, surely like crystal clear water in his veins. It was slower, denser now,
like honey dripping from a beehive, like chocolate melting in his hands. But he
knew that this was wrong as soon as he thought about it. It wasn’t the flow of his
magic that had changed. It was his blood. He could still see it now, in the back of
his mind, the way the floor had been sparkling in the nighttime, glowing like
molten gold with the moon shining on it. He knew even without testing it again,
that he would never bleed red from today on. He knew even without looking up from
the table that, despite the lights never having been on, he hadn’t had trouble
finding what he needed in the cupboards as he made his now cold tea. Oh, and had he
mentioned that he had forgotten his glasses in the workroom? And yet, next to all
these things what he saw in the mirror after he finally turned the lights on, a
face so pale that it might as well be dead, was so trivial that he didn’t even
spare it a second look before he went to do what he always did when life threatened
to drown him.
He went to his bedroom and let the tiredness that had been haunting his bones for
hours overtake him as he dreamt of the eternal night sky of Niflheim laying over
him like a particularly interesting blanket.

The next morning, Harry got up and wrote letters to all of his close friends except
Luna that he was departing for North America for a research trip that might last
several months. His excuse was to find out how the Native American Magical Tribes
had been able to use magic with the smoke from their pipes and nothing else. But
Luna, the one friend of his that he knew could handle the truth, he didn’t lie to.
He told her that he didn’t want to be disturbed for a while as he sorted through
some things. A couple of hours later, as he was cleaning up the workroom from the
fiasco of the day before, her owl arrived with a cryptic letter and a couple of
books on meditation and control exercises for a magical core evolution. He loved
her, honestly. He double-checked that his contract with the grocer in Diagon that
transported his groceries to his fridge was still active, Harry went over what he
would need for the next several months to sequester himself to his home without
leaving to relearn magic. After everything turned out okay, Harry sat down on his
porch to take a breather before he dove into his first-year curriculum - again.
And then, right before his eyes, a man in battle robes and a horned helmet fell
from the sky and right into his vegetable patch. After everything that had happened
to him recently and in the past, Harry honestly couldn’t find it within himself to
be surprised that the Fates hadn’t even waited for a day before sending a new
disaster his way.
Notes:
And, cliffhanger!
I hope you liked it and if you did, please comment and leave a kudo.
There are plans in place for Chapter 2, which directly starts from where this left
off from Loki's perspective and Chapter 3, five to ten years in the future from
this from Thor's perspective. I was very excited about Chapter 3 in particular
since it was going to include a lot of Odin!Bashing and some wonderful Harry and
Thor friendship. Unfortunately, that depended a lot on finishing Chapter 2 first,
which I haven't been able to do yet. I have 3k of it written already, but I'm
struggling to write from Loki's perspective as well as I have done from Harry's and
it's displeasing the perfectionist inside of me. There are also some medical
aspects of it that I'm trying to write as factually correct as possible, but I'm
not a doctor so that's currently a challenge as well. Still, I've got some
unexpected free time on my hands right now so I'll try to finish Chapter 2. Until
then this will be marked as Complete since it can stand and be read on its own but
if you subscribe, it will notify you when I update it. Also, please leave me some
comments, I very much appreciate being able to read everyone's opinions and it
makes my day every time I go to AO3 and my inbox isn't empty. I read them all and
if you have a question, opinion or suggestion, leave it down there and I will
answer it when I see it.
Also, today is the 31st of July, so Happy Birthday to Harry!