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Chapter Text

Prologue - A Murder

It was nearly after hours. Cedric Diggory, a handsome young lad for his age, left swiftly from the library, book in hand, to return to the Hufflepuff common room. He had practically poreless, alabaster skin, with lightly air brushed, rosy cheeks. His thick eyebrows matched his well groomed hair. A slender figure and elegant height gave him the advantage for a quick yet smooth pace down the dark corridor. The last thing he wanted was to be caught returning late. 

He had been studying for one of his electives, Ancient Runes, and a particular set of symbols from an ancient culture so old it was practically myth, kept him intrigued. A single secret letter, written or said, could be used for casting spells, enhancing items, protecting domiciles, or creating something new, good or bad, entirely. The book described the past race of people depicted as nearly immortal beings with magical artifacts and technology of their own. Whatever happened to them piqued his curiosity. 

As he rounded a candle lit, stone walled corner, something caught his eye, something he did not expect. A flash of platinum blonde in black, billowing school robes disappeared behind an unfamiliar door. He could recognize the slicked back hair of that Slytherin anywhere, but he could have sworn he had seen him leave for his own common room not too long ago. Perhaps his mind played tricks on him as he spent too much time in the library.

The door remained an enigma, almost beckoning him to come forward. Cedric surveyed his surroundings to make sure he was alone, only the moving portraits, snoring on the walls kept him company. The handsome Hufflepuff carefully pursued, curiosity wrapping its coils around his will once more. Cedric slowly opened the door to find a very large, yet very cluttered room filled with odds and ends that appeared to have been dumped there. Cedric encroached further into the strange environment, mesmerized by the collection of items. He saw no trace of Malfoy, only dusty old furniture, mirrors, chandeliers, books, candles, glass, cauldrons, tapestries, pictures, jewelry, anything an old magical home or edifice might have forgotten clumped on top of each other, forming large piles of junk everywhere nearly touching the ceiling. 

Spaces on the dark floor without any items allowed for thin paths to wind around the mounds. Cedric felt uneasy as the room stood deathly quiet and still, only dust particles floated in the light. The young wizard was about to call out for someone when he heard the door to a cabinet creak, and an even stranger sound followed. A sound just as weird as the mysterious door and the mysterious room. A sound he had never heard before, a mechanic, angry noise, then a person in distress. Cedric fiercely pulled out his wand, while grasping his book in his free hand, and went to investigate.

“Who’s there?” he demanded. 

Walking around one of the larger piles, Cedric came across a person he did not know. Their back faced him as they tucked something away in their billowing clothes. They turned around, cloaked in a hood of green, black and gold, drawing a very sharp, very long dagger. Hiding in one of the old cabinets, the blonde haired Slytherin peaked through the crack in the cabinet door. Fearful, Malfoy believed himself caught by a dark wizard, and clutched the trinket he had stolen around his neck. His breath labored in the dark while the cracked door shined a harsh, bright light, severing half his face. Cedric furrowed his thick browns, his wand at the ready.

“Who are you? What do you want?” he demanded. The figure's face remained unseen. They refused to answer and instead side-stepped towards the open door, but Cedric matched their movements, preventing their escape. The Hufflepuff narrowed his eyes, honing in on something surprisingly familiar. Symbols on the hilt of the dagger resembled those in his Ancient Runes book.

“Where’s Malfoy? What have you done with him?” Cedric ordered, backing towards the door with his wand pointed at the hostile. Malfoy remained as still and quiet as he could be. Without uttering a word, the figure pulled out a rectangular device with their free hand from their robes, and with a gloved thumb, pushed a button. An error noise rejected their request. The figure for all their mystery looked just as befuddled as Cedric, so he stole the opportunity to cast a spell. 

“Expelliamus!” he yelled with a swift flick of his wand. A light shot out from his wand. The figure put up their dagger in defense. The spell hit the blade. The runes glowed, and the spell rebounded, hitting Cedric square in the chest. It launched him backwards and he hit a pile of junk, dropping his book and falling to the ground. He grunted in pain.

The figure recalibrated their rectangular device and repressed the button, resulting in yet another strange, mechanical noise. Cedric popped his head up in the direction of the sound, distracted. A ghostly, orange rectangle large enough for a person to pass through, formed just outside the door.

Malfoy leaned slightly forward from his place of hiding, peering more into the crack just as confused as Cedric. Suddenly, the blonde haired Slytherin saw the figure advance behind his Hufflepuff counterpart. He wanted to scream, say something, do something, but fear had him frozen in place. 

“Aaah huh!” Cedric gasped in pain and disbelief. The figure forcefully shoved the dagger into his back. Malfoy inhaled sharply in shock as if he too had been stabbed, and slapped a quick hand over his mouth to prevent any further sound from escaping. He leaned away from the bright crack of the cabinet door further into the comfort of its darkness. The hooded figure slipped the sharp dagger out from the warm home, spilling fresh blood on the floor. Cedric laid injured on the ground gasping for air. Malfoy scrunched up his face in a grimace. The masked figure walked over him towards the orange light. With what strength he had left, Cedric pushed himself on his side, held on to his wand and flicked it upward.

“Ex … pelliamus,” he managed to say with great difficulty. This time, the spell hit his assailant, forcing the cloaked figure away from the door. They crashed into one of the piles of rubbish, causing the junk to collapse in upon themself. The obscure contraption flew from their cloak and the orange portal flickered. Cedric winced painfully as he attempted to move but the pain was too great. The pink color in his cheeks faded from his face to match the rest of his alabaster skin. As a last ditch effort before the attacker could collect themselves, he cast another spell at the door from whence he entered.

“Bom … barda … maxima,” Cedric gritted through the pain. A strong orb shot out from the end of his wand through the doorway and exploded upon the opposite wall. It had no effect on the translucent orange rectangle. Malfoy clapped both of his hands over his ears from the noise. Cedric took in a raspy breath as the figure emerged from the rubble with the bloody dagger. Cedric painfully pushed himself up from the ground, propping his torso against a pile of forgotten objects. He prayed someone had heard the noise and pointed his wand at his attacker once more. The cloaked figure launched the blade in his direction.

“Ahhhh!” someone screamed. 

A boy with a lightning bolt scar, woke violently from the dream. He gasped for air in a cold sweat, lying helplessly in his bed as if he was the wounded one. He gripped at his chest, searching for where the imaginary blade might have landed. A soft snoring from his red headed friend brought him back to his reality. The boy reached for a pair of circular glasses and placed them on his face to ensure he really was in the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory. He hoped that the vivid dream, was nothing more than that … a dream.

Chapter Text

A New Case

Another day... another day? Night? With no natural light or nearby star to rotate around, the God of Mischief had no idea how much time had passed since New York. Time definitely worked differently here at the stupid Time Variants Authority, the TVA for short—or Hell as Loki liked to call it.

He walked down the dimly lit, drab, boring hallway of the mighty bureaucratic order, dreading any paperwork in his future. He and his coworker, Agent Mobius, a simple man with a few fun interests, were on a mission to find one of Loki’s more dangerous variants. Variant... a term coined by the TVA to describe a person who does something they are not supposed to in the so-called "Sacred Timeline,” causing an alternate version of events... that are... according to the Time Keepers, or Space Lizards as Loki liked to insult them... “were not supposed to happen.” Mobius specialized in the pursuit of dangerous variants, and now, they were after one of his.

Loki turned the corner to enter the office area. Of all the timelines to model the interior of the TVA, Loki had no idea why they would choose something so stifling as the 1950s on planet Earth, or so he assumed. He honestly missed the shiny, bright colors of Asgard in all of its glory. Loki stopped himself when he saw a strange, old man speaking with Mobius. He had very long white hair, blue-gray robes that could hit the floor if he stood, long flowing sleeves, and an odd cylindrical hat that flopped slightly to one side. He looked very out of place compared to all the office supplies, simple desks, poor lighting, and human technology. 

“Loki!” said Mobius, ushering him over. Loki walked with great caution. Even though no one could possess magic at the TVA, for some reason he looked like someone who could.

“Loki... this is...” Mobius gestured to the old man. When he turned around, Loki saw that he also had a long white beard to match his hair and half-moon glasses. Mobius’ brown blazer, slacks, and tie, along with his light blue shirt and salt and pepper scruffy hair paled in contrast to this oddity.

“Albus Percival Wulfric... Brian... Dumbledore,” he said slowly towards the end, putting out a slender, long hand for a friendly handshake. Loki just stood there with an untrusting scowl, refusing to take his hand before bursting out into a dismissive snicker.

“Did you just make that up?” he asked the old man. The old man, to his surprise, simply smiled, not offended. Mobius rolled his eyes, embarrassed for him.

“Loki, he’s here to give us a lead on your Variant,” the agent said sternly. Loki narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing him from the bottom of his robe to the edge of his hat.

“A lead? I thought we already established that he hides in apocalypses?” questioned the ever-skeptical trickster. Albus smiled lightly with a glimmer in his eye that unfortunately did not win over any amount of fondness from the professional Trickster.

“And how is it possible that... I’m sorry,” he snickered, “What was your name again?” Loki asked sarcastically.

“Loki,” Mobius scolded. Albus chuckled.

“It’s quite alright... it’s a very long name... Dumbledore, Professor Dumbledore,” he added cleverly. Loki glared at him.

“Dumbledore,” the God of Mischief continued with great doubt in his raised eyebrow, “How is it that you have a lead? You don’t look like you work for the TVA?” Loki probed. The professor simply grinned and shook his head. Then, he took something out of his robe pocket.

“I believe you are familiar with this?” he said holding a Tempad, the all powerful rectangular device given only to agents of the TVA that resembled a child’s play thing, but with it, they could travel through different points in time and space by generating a translucent, orange Timedoor for its users. Additionally, It could help identify Variants, reset branches, monitor the status of the Sacred Timeline … and Loki’s least favorite, call the ever annoying holographic, cartoon clock known as Miss Minutes in order to access records and files stored in the TVA's library. It was the closest thing to magic Loki could imagine, and the Tricker’s hunger for it was insatiable. Loki straightened up a bit, very tempted to swipe it quickly like a cat from the old man’s hand.

“Confiscated it from your Variant after they accosted one of my students,” said Dumbledore, holding the mechanism delicately between his long fingers as if to taunt him with it.

“Students?” Loki questioned.

“Yeah, that’s the word you would focus on,” muttered Mobius sarcastically while leaning back in his seat and crossing both arms.

“So he’s what, trapped there?” Loki asked, ignoring the mustached analyst. The gleam returned to Dumbledore’s eyes.

“For now,” noted the old man without a flicker of fear. Loki’s keen sense of mistrust, flamed his flicker for curiosity, wondering how they managed to trap one of his variants, and why they needed his help if they were so capable of doing so.

“And you know for sure that it’s a Loki Variant?”

Mobius had just about enough of Loki’s babbling with the third degree.

“Loki!” he scolded more fiercely, pointing to something on his desk. A dark, long dagger with Asgardian runes rested near his jet ski magazine. Despite the hostile light provided so graciously by the TVA, the weapon shined brilliantly. It definitely looked like one of his, but he usually carried two.

“This was left at the scene of the crime,” said Dumbledore. Loki remained quiet, analyzing the blade, contemplating his words.

“And the TVA didn’t notice a branch on the timeline?” asked Loki, referring to Mobius.

“Unless you consider his sudden appearance as one,” answered Mobius, referring to the strange, yet oddly sophisticated old man. Loki and Mobius had never actually had someone in person who was not a part of the TVA deliver them news of a nexus event, an event in a timeline which was not supposed to happen, according to the flow of the sacred timeline. Dumbledore stood up gracefully.

“Mr. Laufeyson, given the delicate circumstances, and your expertise on the matter, I’d like to act fast,” he said with calm seriousness. The Trickster didn’t appreciate how he knew his name so casually, and addressed him so formally.

”And you are not at all worried that I might do the same thing?” Loki scrutinized darkly. Mobius put his face in his hand shamefully. Dumbledore turned to the embarrassed agent.

“Oh, I do believe Agent Mobius here has assured me that you would do no such thing. Be that as it may, the moment you set foot upon my school’s grounds, a trace will be placed upon you, and I will be alerted if you so desire to do something... dastardly,” he threatened poetically. Loki’s lips parted a bit.

There it was ... the catch. 

“Right,” the God of Mischief said as a matter of fact. Loki had an uneasy feeling that he was being traded from one controlling authority to another.

Chapter Text

A School Fit for a King

Mobius and Loki followed the mysterious professor through the orange, rectangle portal of the TemPad, only to find themselves in a very eccentric, elaborate room. It looked like a private office, only it was on a much grander scale. It had an exceptionally stretched ceiling. Bookshelves upon bookshelves, lined the walls, filled with tomes of every size and color. Several portraits also hung on the walls, neighboring some of the bookshelves, but these were no ordinary paintings; they moved. They seemed to be alive, interacting with one another, gossiping amongst themselves about the newcomers, right in front of Loki and Mobius without a care in the world. Each portrait was trimmed in some form of detailed golden frame, adding to the room’s opulence and mystery. 

Spherical trinkets and trophies of various shapes, sizes, and materials adorned more shelves and mantelpieces or hung from the ceiling. They glinted and sparkled in the ambient light, drawing the eye to their intricacies. Glass bottles and flasks of peculiar liquids, some emitting a soft glow, were arranged neatly on rich wooden cabinets and tables. A large, fiery red bird, its plumage like living flames, perched regally on a stand next to a dark, ornate oak desk. The creature's eyes glittered with intelligence as it regarded the newcomers.

  Sunlight streamed in through an enormous window, creating patterns of dancing light and shadow on the richly carpeted floor. A large pendulum swung back and forth just outside the window, its rhythmic ticking providing a soothing backdrop to the room's otherworldly atmosphere.

The most enigmatic feature in the room was a wide pedestal in the corner. At first glance, it resembled a glorified birdbath, but its purpose remained shrouded in mystique. Loki felt oddly drawn to it.

“Wow …” breathed Mobius, still gazing around the room. Albus smiled delightfully as they took in the room.

“Well… this greatly exceeds Renslayer’s office,” Loki quietly teased him.

“This exceeds anyone’s office,” he whispered back. Mobius leaned in slightly closer towards him for a brief second realizing his choice of words. “Don’t tell her I said that,” he added quickly.

“Enjoying ourselves are we?” chuckled Dumbledore, giving his bird a gentle stroke on its cheek. The magnificent fowl cooed. They turned around, giving him their full attention.

“What is this place?” asked Loki.

“This ... is Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry … and I am its headmaster,” said Dumbledore proudly. Loki blinked hard twice.

“Hang on … what did you just say?” he said a bit too excitedly. Dumbledore’s smile broadened, and his eyes practically twinkled. Mobius snickered hard.

“Oh god... This place is perfect for you,” he muttered to Loki under his breath. The headmaster stepped away from his red bird, finally arriving at the point.

“Now then, there are a few conditions should you choose to aid us,” he began, but Loki was too astounded to really listen. “I would like you to act as an assistant to our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, while you look for your Variant. The students are unaware of the details, and I think it wise that it remains that way … for the time being,” said Dumbledore firmly. Loki’s jaw fell lower. Mobius noticed and just shook his head, and laughed to himself.

“Do not let the students know why you are here, do not tell anyone exactly who you are without my permission, find your variant, and return them from whence they came. Fail to do so or cause any unnecessary trouble, and I will personally send you straight back to the TVA. Understand?” he continued, noticing that the Trickster’s face was still frozen in a child-like shock.

“Loki?” asked Mobius when he didn’t answer.

“This … this is a trick … right? There’s a catch?” he demanded, highly skeptical.

“I believe I just listed all the catches,” he said kindly.

“And, I’ll have my magic back … is no one concerned about that?” he probed with open palmed arms. The headmaster leaned forward with a gentle smile, peering over his half-moon glasses.

“Oh, you’re not the only one who can perform magic here, Mr. Laufeyson,” added Dumbledore in a calm tone. With a wink, a cabinet behind them caught fire. Green flames roared. Mobius and Loki jumped back together in fear. With a simple wave, the headmaster made the flames die out and the cabinet unharmed. Mobius and Loki didn’t even realize they were holding on to each other from the jump scare. They let go awkwardly and straightened their clothes.

“Agent Mobius,” announced the headmaster.

“Yes …”

“While I have no problem with your company at this school, there are others who might,” said Dumbledore sadly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” sneered Loki, offended for him.

“Unfortunately, there are some who discriminate against those who cannot perform magic. I fear if you stay, your safety will be more at risk,” he said honestly.

“What? That’s ridiculous!” said Loki. The TVA agent couldn’t help but be slightly happy that the mischievous scamp was angry for him.

“Loki …” he said calmly.

“Those people wouldn’t be saying any of that if they took one step in the TVA!”

“Loki! It’s okay,” said Mobius. He reached in his pocket and flashed his TemPad.

“I can watch from afar, remember? You do what you have to do here. And I’ll do what I have to do there. Sound fair?” he said to both of them. Dumbledore gave a respectful nod. Loki sighed, not wanting to compromise. He trusted Mobius, but not this supposed grand wizard.

“Besides, someone has to watch for any branching in the timeline,” he said, giving Loki a pat on the shoulder. Mobius loaded up his portal behind him. “I’ll be in touch,” he said warmly and stepped through the glowing orange light. Once it disappeared, one of the very few people he trusted other than himself was gone, leaving him alone with no way out except for a child’s prayer.

Chapter Text

The Victim

“Now then, shall we?” said the headmaster, ushering him down a spiral staircase guarded by a gargoyle-like statue. Once they left his wondrous office, Loki became overwhelmed by something else. Huge columns towered above them connecting all the stone walls, stairs, hallways and ceilings. What seemed to be hundreds and hundreds of students dressed in black robes of various ages from children to teenagers filled the magnificent hallways of the castle like water droplets flowing down their own paths through massive semi-circular arch ways. The air in Hogwarts carried the faint scent of old parchment, magical herbs, and cool stone, blending with the distant murmur of students and the occasional echoes of laughter from unseen corners. It wasn't nearly as metallic or shiny as Asgard, but the castle reminded him of the palace and bustling with its many inhabitants also grabbed in their flowing Asgardian attire. Loki felt oddly at home if not for his branded, Variant jacket. However, he would much rather be here in the castle looking a bit out of place than the drab, non magical TVA. Loki's eyes darted around, taking in everything as best he could.

"Mr. Laufeyson?" said Dumbledore. He could see that the Trickster was a bit starstruck. Dumbledore put a gentle hand on his back, waking him from his shock.

"How ... how have I never heard of this place?" he breathed. Of the time spent on Earth, albeit not that much time, he’d never seen a place so spectacular.

"Because you've never needed to, not till now ... come," the headmaster as they pressed onward. Loki had heard those words before, and an uneasiness settled over him. The Trickster kept looking all around, the entire place practically consisted of soaring architecture, towering ceilings, large stone columns, thick stone walls and moving pictures, all lit by some form of candle or sun light. Despite Dumbledore’s terms and conditions, and his affiliation with the TVA, he didn’t feel completely confined here. Loki nearly ran into a couple of students who threw him some odd looks, but he did not have the focus to care. 

After their exploration of the castle, Dumbledore led Loki through the towering corridors, winding his way towards a more secluded section. The grandeur of Hogwarts gave way to a hushed ambiance as they entered the hospital wing. The headmaster drew an odd looking stick from his robe pocket. It was long and pale with five spherical looking notches marking each part of its length. Loki squinted his face, slightly disgusted by it. He hoped it served a greater purpose than the TVA’s pruning, death batons. With a smooth flick from his wrist, the magical stick creaked open a door, revealing a room veiled in shadows where a body lay on a table. A white sheet sprawled over it. Once they passed through the threshold, the door clicked behind them, locking them inside, a feature that made Loki’s skin crawl. 

"He was found at night, leaving the library," the headmaster began in a solemn yet delicate tone. Dumbledore gently peeled back the sheet by hovering his magical tool over it. The sheet followed it as Dumbledore slowly moved the end away from the body. Once unveiled, the young man's appearance took Loki by surprise. He was expecting to see a ghastly mess or a dirty figure, but the person was incredibly pale, yet oddly handsome, even with his eyes closed. Not a single blemish harmed his cheek. Loki recalled some Asgardian women who would kill for his poreless skin. Dumbledore peeled back more of the sheet revealing the young man's black school robes similar to the ones he saw on the more lively students. Loki took a mental note of an emblem on the side. It was composed of what appeared to be a furry creature in colors of gold and black. He scanned the body further, looking for the entry wound. Finally an imperfection showed itself; a single deep strike could be found in his chest, painting his pure white school shirt in a mess of burnt red.

“So he was stabbed and bled to death. I hardly think you needed me to figure that out,” Loki said in a snarky attitude.

“Then I can assume, you know what your Variant will do next and how to apprehend them?” Dumbledore remarked smoothly from behind his half moon glasses. Loki scoffed. “Furthermore, there are two fatal wounds,” the headmaster continued.

“Two?” questioned the Trickster who clearly saw the single frontal assault. With another smooth and unspoken gesture from the grand wizard’s hand, a Levitation Charm wove through the air, cradling the body as if time itself bowed to the headmaster's command. The body itself floated motionlessly as if gravity had no effect on it or the billowing clothes. Loki watched in awe of his skill despite the fact that this young person was indeed dead. It had been too long since he had seen magic, let alone practiced it. The Trickster walked around the table to view the other injury. The stab wound in the back looked older than the front. It was not exactly a quick death nor a clean one for that matter. The victim may have fought back, but without the whereabouts of the assault, Loki would not know for sure.

“Death was not instant … at least not at first …“ Loki said, musing out loud.

“No … “ Dumbledore said quietly. The playful glint in his eyes dimmed at the thought of one of his students suffering such cruelty. The headmaster delicately floated the body back down to its original position, leaving the sheet off. Loki circled around to the other side of the table once more, searching for any more clues. Other than the TemPad and the lone dagger, he found it hard to believe that a Loki Variant could be responsible for a motiveless murder, let alone in a place with so many people, unless the boy was in his way … and if he was, to what end he wondered. The deed was sloppy, most likely conducted by a less superior Loki, the Trickster thought. Besides, of all the battles Loki had fought, to blatantly kill a child was not in his repertoire.  

“Were there any witnesses?” Loki probed.

“No one saw the attack … but regrettably, his body was discovered by another one of our students,” he said with less confidence than at the start of their union. Loki pondered deeply. He knew he would have to socialize with the little beings at some point, but he was certainly devising other methods of extracting information with little personal interaction. 

“Other than your elusive device, and quite lethal weapon … two defensive spells were cast from his wand,” added the old wizard.

“I beg your pardon?” the Trickster asked with a raised eyebrow, ever skeptical. The headmaster opened his palm face up, delicately balancing the illusive bone colored stick in his long fingers.

“You may not be as familiar or in need of such items,” the wizard said, hinting towards some hidden knowledge, “but every witch and wizard has a wand … and every wand … has an unforgettable past.” Another prickling sensation went up Loki’s spine, finding yet another vague similarity between the TVA and this school. The Trickster remembered when he first met Mobius, how much he hated him and his holoprojector, forcing him to relive his painful past. Worse, he had to relive a past that wasn’t exactly his, and yet, he probably would have made all the wrong choices again given the chance. Perhaps he had lost too much time at the Time Variant’s Authority, he was starting to see similarities everywhere.

“Forgive me, headmaster, but if this school is so prestigious, how is it that only your students have encountered this Loki?” The God of Mischief asked slowly, smugly, curiously, “I mean … how do you even know if the Variant is still here?” he added, looking up from the victim judgmentally. The popped collar of his Variant jacket added to his sly grin. Dumbledore kept his tall figure aligned, unwavering to Loki’s line of questioning as if he already expected this bout of skepticism. A shine to his half moon glasses gleamed as he peered over them once more with silent wisdom. His mystic blue eyes hinted at secrets beyond the surface.

“Hogwarts has strict rules in place preventing students from venturing after hours, with some exceptions,” Dumbledore began calmly, “As for your Variant, it is true, a mythical being, presently dwelling in the walls of our school, is quite formidable if not unbelievable,” he said. Loki’s grin dropped at his small slight. Dumbledore took a step closer to him before continuing. “However, it has been brought to my attention that your TemPad, is quite the powerful tool … and if I am not mistaken … Loki’s seem to crave power … do you think they would leave something so precious behind?” Loki narrowed his green eyes, attempting to pierce the old man’s gentle blue gaze. It irritated him how calm and enigmatic he remained in his presence. “Besides, now that you are here, it will be easier to track your variant.”

“What does that mean?” asked Loki suspiciously. Dumbledore walked closer towards the door they had originally entered.

“The moment you stepped onto the school’s grounds, a special trace was placed upon you. Any time you perform your magic, which you are allowed to do within reason, I will be alerted,” the headmaster explained. Loki glared at the headmaster wondering if Mobius knew what they were getting into when they were given this assignment.

“Which means so will the Variant’s,” said Loki, not even trying to hide his quick thinking.

“Precisely,” said Dumbledore, and with a squish of his wand, he unlocked the door, but before they left the room, the old wizard turned once more to the Trickster, “Mr. Laufeyson, it is imperative that we catch your variant as swiftly as possible, not only for the students’ sake, but for the school’s as well, for I fear with your variant freely roaming the grounds, Hogwarts is no longer safe. Do you understand?”

Loki’s hostile demeanor fell a bit flat. As skeptical as he was of the headmaster, he didn’t believe the old man was lying about that last statement. They actually needed his help.

Chapter Text

Defense Against the Dark Arts

Loki was grateful to leave that undesirable portion of the castle, which definitely felt like a ‘killing-me’ kind of a room, and return to the more open, spectacular architecture of the school where he could breathe. Dumbledore guided him to another part of Hogwarts, a brighter area. A medieval door, a masterpiece of intricate carvings, greeted them to their next destination , where he would fulfill one of the clauses attached to his original task.

"This is our Defense Against the Dark Arts class," said the headmaster, opening a crack in the door with a simple push of his hand. 

"Defense Against the Dark Arts? What’s that?" said Loki, forever doubtful.

“Oh, this one, I think you will like,” said the headmaster with a playful smile. Dumbledore gestured for the Trickster to go inside, and was greeted by a person he did not expect.

"Ah, you must be Mr. Laufeyson?" said a strange man with a peculiar aura and the remnants of a story scratched on his face. It was a face that bespoke adventures and perhaps a few too many encounters with the darker side of magic.

For a moment, excitement ignited his spirit, for he thought Mobius had returned, mistaking the man's mustache for the analyst’s, and the man’s cut for the agent's permanently broken nose, but the light brown hair color, and different accent threw him off. Could there be more than one variant here, he wondered. A soft thud from the door, as Dumbledore left him with this newest stranger, was enough to startle him back to this reality.

Loki found himself in a large classroom with tall glass windows, and a seemingly limitless ceiling with dangling chandeliers, filled with many students dressed in more black-robed uniforms. They gossiped amongst themselves, trying to decipher the unexpected visitor. So much for minimal, personal interaction. Once some of the initial shock had worn off, the Trickster took in the rest of his surroundings. He noticed for the first time that even though the clothes looked the same, the students were oddly divided by separate colors and emblems. He saw one group that had similar colors and emblems to that of the dead boy’s. He counted four different sigils in total, all consisting of one animal sported by two complimenting colors. No doubt, the green and silver one with the snake intrigued him the most while the red and gold one with the lion brought some deep, unresolved, childhood resentment. His fingers absently traced the embossed emblem on his own boring brown and orange Variant jacket, a stark contrast to the traditional wizarding robes. Loki smiled awkwardly.

"I was told that you would be my assistant for this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts class?" he said plainly. Loki observed him with great suspicion.

"Yes… and you are?" he asked. The students exchanged confused looks.

"What the bloody hell, they haven't met?" whispered a ginger-haired kid to one of his fellow students. He was clustered with the group of students who sported the red and gold.

"Why is he wearing muggle clothes?" whispered another wearing blue and bronze colors framing a bird. The professor gave him a warm, yet petty smile, similar to the one Mobius gave him the first time they met.

"I am Professor Lupin," he said, stepping forward. Loki cocked an eyebrow.

A strange wardrobe in the middle of the classroom shook, capturing their attention.

"You are just in time for our first lesson," Lupin said, turning to it. Loki thought the item was odd, given the fact that they were in a medieval classroom, but then again, maybe it made the most sense here. It wobbled violently the more Professor Lupin walked closer to it.

"Nothing to worry about," Professor Lupin reassured calmly because a few students had stepped backward in alarm. Loki’s eyes darted from him to the wardrobe on guard.

"There's a boggart in there," he said to his students.

"A boggart?" Loki said to himself.

"Indeed," said Lupin, "What is a boggart?" he continued to the class. A girl with light brown, wavy hair, next to the redheaded boy, raised her hand in vigor.

"It's a shape-shifter," she said.

"Very good, Hermione, and can anyone tell us what a Boggart looks like?" Lupin continued.

"No one knows. They take the shape of whatever a particular person fears most," continued the eager girl, "That's what makes it so—"

"Terrifying, yes." Loki's enthusiasm for the school dropped.

"Luckily, a very simple charm exists to repel a Boggart. Let's practice it now, shall we? Without wands, please..."

Loki crossed his arms and observed. Lupin pulled out his own magical stick from his robes. The students waited and watched.

"Riddikulus!" said Lupin to his students. Loki nearly laughed out loud.

“This class is ridiculous," hissed another student under his breath. Loki looked over to see him sneering. He looked like a weaselly boy with slicked-back, bleach-blond hair. Silver and green colors adorned the snake emblem patched on his uniform. He fidgeted like he was nervous and did not want to be there.

"Good. So much for the easy part. You see, the incantation alone is not enough. What really finishes a Boggart off is... laughter. You need to force it to assume a shape you find truly amusing. Neville, come up here, will you?" A half-smile crept on Loki's face. The idea of humiliating a foe sounded intriguing, but Loki’s version of fun was not the usual norm. A wimpy-looking student with shortish brown hair stepped forward toward the rattling wardrobe, queasy.

"You need to force it to assume a shape you find truly amusing. Let me explain. Neville, what frightens you most of all?" asked Lupin. For a boy adorning a proud lion on his black robes, he didn’t look very fierce.

"Professor Snape..." whispered the poor lad.

"Sorry?" asked Professor Lupin, leaning in closer, ear first. The young pupil made a quick glance in Loki’s direction.

"Professor Snape," said Neville a bit more volume.

"Professor Snape,” Lupin chuckled, also glancing in the Trickster’s location, “Yes, frightens all.” Most of the class giggled except for Loki, not fully grasping the situation.

"And I understand you live with your grandmother. Yes?" asked Lupin kindly.

"Yes, but I don't want it to turn into her, either," said Neville sheepishly. Lupin laughed again.

"No... it won't," he said leaning closer to him. "Now, I want you to picture her clothes. Only her clothes, very clearly, in your mind.

"What?" whispered Loki to himself.

"She carries a red handbag..."

"We don't need to hear. As long as you see it, we'll see it. Now, when I open that wardrobe... here's what I want you to do. Excuse me." he said, stepping right next to him. "Imagine Professor Snape in your grandmother's clothes." he whispered in Neville's ear.

"Can you do that?" he asked. Neville nodded. Loki watched carefully with great anticipation. Lupin waved his wand and opened the shaking wardrobe. The door flew open. A pale hand in a dark sleeve reached out of it nervously. A tall man in completely black robes with many buttons up and down the tunic and along the sleeves stepped out. Straight, black hair of medium length framed his very serious expression. Piercing black eyes honed in on the very anxious Neville. Loki uncrossed his arms quickly on alert. The man had an uncanny resemblance to himself, minus some facial features. Had he found his variant so quickly, he wondered. Couldn't be, that would be too easy. Loki was about to summon one of his daggers when Lupin spoke again.

"Yes. Wand at the ready. One, two, three." he said. Neville froze.

"Think, Neville, think. Be brave!" he commanded.

"Riddikulus!" said Neville with a flick of his wrist, and the man's clothes changed to that of Neville's grandmother’s. The man never said a word; he only looked around the room shocked like a chicken searching for whomever had just ripped a few of its feathers out from its tail as a joke. The students roared in laughter.

"What the..." Loki mouthed to himself.

"Wonderful, Neville, wonderful! Incredible! Okay... to the back, Neville. Everyone, form a line... Form a line!" said Lupin enthusiastically, and the students lined up excitedly. To set the mood, Lupin put on a record. Upbeat swing music filled the room with drums and trumpets. The students pushed and shoved themselves until the one with bright orange hair forced to the front.

"I want everyone to picture the thing they fear the very most... and turn it into something funny. Next! Ron!" said Lupin to the redhead. Loki snickered as he saw the look of terror painted on the young pupil’s face. Ron practically whimpered. Loki’s lesser look-alike dressed in old women’s clothes, transformed into a hovering, constantly shifting blob, until it found his fear, a giant, hideous spider with beady black eyes the size of a small car. Loki jumped back in shock.

"Concentrate. Face your fear. Be brave! Wand at the ready, Ron." Professor Lupin reassured him.

"Riddikulus!" trembled Ron with a wave of his wand. Roller-skates appeared on all eight legs, making it constantly fall as it tried to stand up. The class erupted into laughter again. Loki recovered and straightened his jacket, hoping no one saw his sliver of surprise. Devious plans formulated in his head. If he ever processed such a creature on Asgard, what endless mischief he could have. The fun daydream was interrupted by Lupin.

"Yes! You see? Very good, very good! Marvelous! Absolutely, very, very enjoyable! How about you Mr. Laufeyson!" said Lupin. Loki froze.

"I beg your pardon?" he responded, blinking rapidly.

"Show us what you see," said Lupin kindly, gesturing to the boggart with his wand. Loki thought for a moment, and a terrible revelation came to him; the creature would expose his greatest fear ... unknown to him … against his will ... publicly.

"Hehe … ah," he began with a fake smile, trying to save face, "I don't think that would be necessary." Lupin narrowed his eyes.

"Oh come now, you are my assistant. Show these students what not to be afraid of," he said warmly. Loki’s bright green eyes flickered from the professor, to the students, to the creature. Reluctantly, he stepped forward.

"Look, even a teacher is scared. How pathetic," said the slimy boy with his blond hair, ridiculing the class. Loki glared at him. 

"Shut up Malfoy," snapped another boy with dark brown hair and round glasses. He stood next to the scared redhead he now knew as Ron, the know-it-all brunette he now knew as Hermione, and the wimpy kid he now knew as Neville. All four of them had the red and gold colors with the proud lion as their badge, but Loki noticed something rather peculiar about the boy with the round glasses. A harsh, red line lingered behind the curtains of his dark bangs, while his circular glasses framed his very green eyes. Thoughts swirled in Loki’s head, and he stared at the boy for far too long. Neville grew more nervous.

"Mr. Laufeyson," said Lupin, regaining the Trickster’s focus. Loki broke his gaze and walked closer to the creature’s last form and it began to transform, but what form it would take he was unsure. The metaphorical spotlight pushed in on Loki. Unbeknownst to him, the students, and even Lupin, the Trickster was about to redefine the meaning of 'ridiculous.’

"Keep your nerve. Steady. Riddikul-"

A giant, towering, green monster resembling a very buff troll shrieked before him. Loki's confident expression dropped completely. All the color drained from his face. Horrified, the students scrambled to the far corner of the classroom. Some of them screamed. Malfoy squealed like a girl. Loki froze, crippled by fear.

"I need to get out of here..." he muttered quickly.

"Mr. Laufeyson!" yelled Professor Lupin. The Trickster yelped as the giant green monster man grabbed his leg in one enormous hand and slammed him into the floorboard of the classroom, completely shattering it like glass. He continued to swing Loki’s body around like a ragdoll, smashing him into various things, breaking desks, and bookcases, finally ending with a quick upside-down check to see if he was still breathing before completely slamming him into a stone section of the room. Panting heavily wide eyed in shock, Loki created a dent in the floor in the shape of his body like a cartoon. The creature wasn’t even the real Hulk and he experienced the same humiliation for the second time. The students, still screaming, huddled together as far away as they could from the calamity.

Suddenly, Lupin jumped in front of the beast, yelling with his arms open, wand in hand.

Loki, still conscious, thought he was mad. The creature transformed again. Loki watched in disbelief as the great beast that mangled him into the stone floor transformed into a simple, peaceful setting of a full moon cocooned by light, fluffy clouds.

Loki looked like someone slapped him across the face in addition to the extreme pummeling he just received. He wanted to ridicule, humiliate, curse, scream at the man who feared the moon.

"Riddikulus!" said Lupin with a sharp wave of his wand, transforming the peaceful scene into a comical leaky party balloon, banishing it to the wardrobe from whence it came.

"Right. Sorry about that! That's enough for today. Collect your books from the back. That's the end of the lesson. Thank you! Sorry!" said Lupin quickly to the terrified students. They gathered their things and scurried out the large door as fast as they could. Only one of them joined Lupin where Loki lay stuck in the floor. It was the dark-haired boy with the circular glasses. His closest friends, Ron and Hermione, followed.

“Professor? Is he alright?” asked the dark-haired student. Lupin watched, gobsmacked as Loki attempted to pry himself from the stone floor.

“Bloody hell!” Ron exclaimed after seeing the damage done to the classroom, “How’s he still alive??” Ron blurted out loud. Hermione elbowed him hard in the side. “Oww!”

“Mr. Laufeyson, stay there,” said Lupin as calmly as he could. With a flick of his wand and a silent incantation, Lupin cast a spell to gently loosen some of the rubble around his assistant, fearful of any injuries. Hermione was shocked by how deep he was implanted in the ground. She didn’t want to admit it, but she too wanted to know how he managed to live. She recalled when they fought off a troll their first year, and none of them, not even Harry, would have survived. Loki put both hands at his sides to push himself up. Harry put out a helping hand. Loki took it absentmindedly not realizing it did not belong to Lupin. He froze, gripping the boy’s hand once his green eyes met his. He wondered for a split second if this was some kind of trick, a kind gesture to mask the mischief within. Not all Loki’s looked alike, but they all seemed to maintain some level of narcissistic resemblance. This student’s dark hair and green eyes were no exception. It would explain why a Loki would take out a child if they were another Loki, but the mark on the student’s face doused those theories. Now that the curtains to his bangs had separated, Loki could clearly see a lightning bolt scar. Another bout of unacknowledged hate nipped at his core, and he gripped Harry’s hand a tad too hard as he hoisted himself up from the debris. Harry winced but continued to help him nonetheless. Crumbles of stone fell off the fallen Trickster.

“Mr. Laufeyson, are you alright?” Lupin asked in a more serious tone. Loki brushed off his jacket. Dust powdered the air.

“I’m fine-” he said while attempting to take a step forward and stumbled. Lupin caught him before he met the unforgiving floor again. Loki looked down and noticed his leg hurt, where the beast had grabbed him. He felt dizzy. Something hot and wet ran down his forehead. He touched it and found a red liquid on his fingertips.

“You three! Quick, help me take him to the hospital,” Lupin said frantically.

Chapter Text

The TVA

Back at the drab Time Variants Authority, Hunter B-15, one of the high ranking officers, decked out in her matte black and green armor, searched for the analyst who specialized in dangerous variants, Mobius M. Mobius. He was becoming more elusive since he kept one of his variant pets. She never understood his fascination with Lokis. She could only assume that the elite Time Keepers created him for the insufferable job, only he seemed to enjoy it. Perhaps the variant was rubbing off on him. B-15 would kill for a reason to prune Loki, and she might just have the perfect one, if she could find Mobius. B-15 rested her hand on her pruning baton, holstered in her belt. Bright orange lettering stamped near her shoulder pads marked her identity as hunter 'B-15.' The analyst wasn’t at his desk and she didn’t think he was out in the field. His precious Jet Ski magazine laid next to his computer unprotected. She assumed he had to be working if he was this distracted to leave it out in the open.

Locked in one of the interrogation theaters alone with a holoprojector, Mobius anxiously flipped open his TemPad. He had left his station immediately when he saw a spike on Loki’s timeline. It wasn’t big, but it was enough to have him concerned, which happened more often than he liked to admit, and with his safety jeopardized if he were to enter that world, Mobius had snatched one of the TVA’s orange retro devices to see what he was missing from afar. He switched on the holoprojector, a mechanism designed to review the past, present, and future of an individual. This one belonged to his current Loki. A beam of light shot out from it and projected a holographic movie. Mobius clicked away scanning the reel after Loki left the TVA. He saw him and the old wizard analyze the victim in a dark room of the castle.

“Ah jeez … “ Mobius whispered to himself, sad that such a young life ended so brutally. He flipped further into the future, continuing to search for the cause of the spike. He saw them leave the room, travel through the school and end at a classroom where Dumbledore left him. Mobius was not exactly sure what they were doing, but he could not help but laugh when the kids laughed, especially when one of them made a giant spider wear roller skates. If he could portal to a lake and summon a jet ski like that he would. When the teacher addressed Loki, Mobius’s ears perked up.

"Yes! You see? Very good, very good! Marvelous! Absolutely, very, very enjoyable! How about you Mr. Laufeyson!" He said.

The analysis scrunched his face taking in the scene, wondering curiously what would happen next. Subconsciously, he rubbed his mustache triggered by the sight of the scruffy professor.

"I beg your pardon?" Loki responded.

Mobius snickered. “Not big on trust … “ he mumbled to himself as if he was in the classroom with them.

"Show us what you see," said the professor.

Once the shape-shifting creature transformed himself into the incredible Hulk and smashed the Trickster around the room in front of a bunch of kids, Mobius abruptly stopped the reel, and let out a shaky breath.

“Damnit Loki!” he hissed sharply, thumping his first against the cold table. He fast forwarded through the rest of the reel to make sure he was ok. It looked like the teacher and three students took him to some kind of medical bay. Mobius let out a sigh of relief, when a knock at the door nearly made him jump out of his brown work blazer. The analyst switched off the holoprojector and unlocked the door, opening it just enough to stick his head through the crack.

“Thought I might find you here,” said an overly satisfied Hunter B-15.

“Yeah, I’m doing my job, do you mind?” he said, irritated.

"Yeah, Judge Renslayer wants to see you," she said smugly. He sighed deeply, hanging his head, hoping her summoning had nothing to do with his current mission, but with his luck, it probably did. Mobius locked the door to the theater behind him before briskly walking down the dimly lit corridor of the TVA, leaving B-15 in the dust. He didn’t need any of her unsolicited opinions.

The winding hallways and windowless walls gave the illusion of the entire facility existing somewhere underground, a distant, secret society, living in a closed off labyrinth with no beginning and no end, as its workers march down the paths created for them like ants in a glass farm. If an individual so desired to venture outside the invisible bubble where more natural experiences could blossom, the kid with the magnifying glass might get angry.

Mobius arrived at Renslayer’s office as requested. Her door littered with a pattern of hourglasses, a common theme at the TVA. He opened the door where he found her at her 1940s retro style desk, an improvement from his own, but a greatly dull contrast in comparison to the wizard’s. She too possessed shelves upon shelves of books and various trinkets and trophies from previous missions, but not nearly as many as Dumbledore. Her ceiling stopped short of the artificial light glowing not too far out of sight and no fiery animal waited to greet him. Everything looked dim and claustrophobic to him now, even her leather upholstery he once thought as regal felt cold. He almost wished he never saw the wizard’s office.

"Is it just me, or does this office keep getting better and better?" he lied once he was inside. A glass ball filled with water and white flakes resting on one of her shelves caught his eye.

"Where'd you get that one, the snow globe? I love those. I don't remember bringing back that case," he deflected while taking a seat. A square, crystal bottle popped open and Ravonna Renslayer, a high ranking judge of the Time Variants Authority, poured them both a glass of scotch, which he thought could be a good sign. Her uniform matched the boring brown colors to the rest of the people at the TVA, except her power suit suggested she had a bit more authority than most. She was a slender woman who carried herself with elegance and grace. Her brown eyes pierced with determination while her dark curly hair was delicately pulled back to show her poised face.

Mobius had known her for a very very, very long time, and still he could not help but be swayed by her presence.

"You're not the only analyst working for me," she replied snidely, taking a seat across from him, handing him a glass. The comment stung a bit.

"But, would you say, maybe, I'm your favorite one? And why do you get to keep all the trophies from my cases in here? You don't think I'd love having that roller skate there sprucing up my cubicle?" he flirted.

"Because I approve the missions," she reinforced. He paused.

"Good point," he said, leaning back into her dark leather couch, taking a sip of his drink.

"Speaking of which, let's talk about the one you just botched," she said. Mobius paused, holding the liquor in his mouth before swallowing. Then he let it pass, burning his throat.

"Botched? Ahem, How was it Botched?" he asked curiously, clearing his windpipe.

"Really, Mobius? Your variant destroyed a classroom full of kids on his very first day," she said with a bit of condescension. He groaned, there it was.

"But it didn't cause a Nexus event," he retorted.

"But it could have! And it could have killed someone, let alone a child!" she argued. He took another quick sip of his scotch.

"Listen, Ravonna, I'm sorry. I realize that my, you know, methods with this Loki are controversial, but... " he began.

"Towing a dangerous Variant into the field is controversial," she snapped. He stopped talking, letting the room fill with an awkward silence. Renslayer sighed.

"Look, I know you have a soft spot for broken things," she said, trying to break the ice between them.

"I don't think so."

"Yes, you do. But Loki is an evil, lying scourge. That is the part he plays on the Sacred Timeline." The agent shook his head and put his glass down on the table.

"Maybe he wants to mix it up. Sometimes you get tired of playing the same part. Is that possible? He can change?" he pleaded.

"Not unless the Time-Keepers decree it. And then, it shall be so." she said as a matter of fact. He sighed, peering over at one of the Time Keeper's statues lingering in her office. They really did look like space lizards. He wished he could replace them with something from the grand wizard's office.

"And how are the old Time-Keepers?" Mobius dared to probe. Ravonna sighed anxiously.

"How do you think?" she said sarcastically. Mobius chuckled.

"I don't know. 'Cause I've never met 'em. Thankfully. Although, I shouldn't say that. That one looks... " he said about to make a joke.

"Mobius," she said, cutting him off, "You really believe in this variant?" The analyst thought for a moment, finishing off his scotch. Oddly enough, he did, but he couldn’t say that to her.

"Mmm... Luckily, he believes in himself enough for the both of us."

Chapter Text

The Hospital

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Loki said, swatting away the head nurse, “I’m fine!” he said more sharply, blocking Madam Pomfrey with both hands up from mending the cut on his head. She was an older woman with a pleasant face and a white bonnet, indicating her primary occupation. He sat up on a white hospital bed surrounded by Lupin, Harry, Ron and Hermione.

“If you were fine, you wouldn’t be here,” she scolded. Loki's emerald eyes rolled to the back of his head, casting her mature responsibility aside with his childish ego.

“I’ll say. You got bloody smashed into the ground by … some … kind of … big green monster.  He literally destroyed the classroom with you!  How are you alive?” said Ron letting his mind run away with his mouth. 

“Ronald?!” Hermione scolded. Madam Pomfrey looked up from her medical supplies to give the newcomer a wide eyed, scathing look of judgment and bewilderment, hesitant to ask what happened. Loki fixed a sharp gaze upon the oblivious redhead, cutting through the air. If he could shoot lasers from his eyes, he would have burned a direct hole into Ron’s forehead.   

“What was that thing, professor?” asked the boy with a lightning bolt scar. Loki’s glare remained piercing as it landed on Harry. The Trickster could not decide if he was playing dumb to maintain a facade, as a Loki would do, or if he was truly asking as an innocent youth. Defense seemed like the safest approach.

“Yes, I would like to know that as well?” said Lupin, knitting his brows together in suspicion.

“First of all, I’m not a professor. Secondly, I seem to recall it being a boggart,” he answered snidely, yet politely except for the stretched grin across his face. They have no idea, he thought regarding the big green beastie, a trace of vulnerability hidden beneath the sarcasm. Hermione crossed her arms in a pouty disgust by his flippant nature. Lupin squinted his eyes at the non-answer and walked around the side of the bed closer to Loki so he was looking down at him. 

“This isn’t a game. I’ve never seen anything like that, as rightfully terrifying as it was,” said Lupin as if he was talking to a smartass student. The Trickster got a better look at his weary face. He certainly bore similar worrying lines that Mobius possessed, but the cut on his nose looked more like a vicious creature had raked two old claw marks across his face. Lupin, despite the visible fatigue etched into his features, maintained an upright posture. His shoulders, though burdened, refused to sag, a testament to his resilience. Before Loki could make a quip, a figure walking swiftly approached them. Her long wizarding robes swept the floor gracefully as her steady stride carried her to them bearing great responsibility. She was an older woman with high cheekbones and big eyes, wearing an elegant hat with a crooked point and wide rim tilted ever so slightly to the side, a pinnacle to a witch’s wardrobe.

“Professor McGonagall,” said Harry, announcing her presence.

“McGonagall?” muttered Loki as if he was practicing how to pronounce her name. It was a mouthful, he thought. She glanced at all of them, relieved that there was no student in the medical bed, but her gaze quickly fell upon the three young Gryffindors. 

“Why is it that when something happens, it is always you three?” she asked, greatly concerned. Her wispy voice and accent added to her uniqueness. 

Loki furrowed his brows confused as he gazed upon the youngsters with curious scrutiny.

“It wasn’t their fault, Minerva,” Lupin said, stepping in, “They were helping me with my assistant,” he said side glancing at Loki. “We just had some trouble with a bogart,” he added.

“A bogart?” she asked, greatly concerned. The pitch in her voice rose towards the end of her question. “Nearly half the classroom was destroyed, Remus!” she directly stated. Loki’s eyes wandered around the hospital wing, planning an exit strategy, when he saw the heavy oaken door of the hospital wing creak open, revealing the tall silhouette of Professor Dumbledore. The air seemed to ripple with a unique blend of reverence and anticipation as the headmaster stepped into the room. The Trickster held his breath, anticipating some form of reprimand. The old wizard’s long robes, a rich tapestry of blue-grays and silvers, billowed with a weighty grace that matched the solemnity of the situation.

“It’s quite alright, Professor McGonagall,” he said with authority. The headmaster parted his way through the small crowd. Loki braced himself, expecting a public scolding or to be sent directly back to the TVA. “A classroom can be fixed. Thankfully, no one else was harmed,” said the headmaster peering over his half moon glasses at Loki, a silent reminder of his terms and conditions. The Trickster responded in kind with a death glare.

“Professor McGonagall, will you escort the students back to their dormitories?” he asked Minerva. She nodded respectfully with her elegant witch’s hat, and ushered for Ron, Harry, and Hermione to follow her out.

“Professor Lupin, I can take it from here,” Dumbledore added kindly.

“Of course,” Lupin said reluctantly. Lupin threw Loki one final look before completely walking away as if to say this conversation was not over, leaving the Trickster alone with the headmaster once more. The atmosphere settled from the previous commotion, but the air remained thin; Loki was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Dumbledore finally addressed him.

"I heard you made quite the impression on your first day, and a literal one I might add. I trust Madam Pomfrey has healed any injuries?" remarked Dumbledore observing the dark haired Asgardian in the hospital bed with genuine concern. Loki rolled his eyes, “It takes a bit more than that to kill me," the Trickster remarked snidely. Dumbledore kept a wise gaze over his half moon glasses.

"Oh I know, but the students are not aware of that. Mr. Laufeyson, while our own personal fears are not a sin, I would exercise caution when it comes to their safety," Dumbledore said. 

“How was I supposed to know what that creature would-” Loki began to argue, but Dumbledore put a steady hand up to quiet him.

"It’s alright, I understand it was not entirely your fault, but I must ask you to be more careful in the future. Help is always welcome to those at Hogwarts, you need only ask for it. I’m sure Professor Lupin would be more than happy to help you with some of your inner fears … you will be spending some time in his class afterall,” Dumbledore said thoughtfully. Loki took it as a small slight given the underlying circumstances to his true purpose at the school. “Now then, If you are feeling up to it, we have a room waiting for you upstairs," he said.

"Are you not concerned ... that I may still be injured," remarked Loki, gesturing to the hospital bed supporting the lower half of his body.

"Oh I think our school took more of a beating than you did."

Chapter Text

A Snake's Message

Harry, Ron, and Hermione returned to the Gryffindor common room just before curfew. Luckily, Professor McGonagall's presence guarded them from any extra trouble. However, the events of the day kept replaying in their minds like an old movie on loop. The dark haired figure bearing an uncanny resemblance to an unpopular teacher tossed around the Defense Against the Dark Arts room by an angry green monster the size of a giant would forever remain in their memory vaults for years to come. Not to mention that his body unnaturally broke the stone floor as if he was physically impervious to solid rock.

"Blimey, that was mad what happened," said Ron, finding a seat next to the common room fireplace,"How can someone just walk away from something like that? And what was that thing? It looked bigger and meaner than a mountain troll," said the redhead asking all the obvious questions.

"I dunno. I've never seen anything like it before," said Hermione shrugging with her arms still crossed uncomfortably. She sat next to Ron while Harry sat in a chair across from them. Hermione had never seen nor read about the monster the boggart replicated, and she couldn't understand why professor Lupin would need an assistant in the first place. The strange man was incompetent and arrogant to say the least. He must have cast some kind of charm to protect himself, she thought, or perhaps Lupin did. His office-like attire perplexed her even more.

"Whatever it was, it seems fair that he would be afraid of it," said Harry, rubbing his hand over his knuckles worrisomely for warmth.

The fire crackled in the background. The flames dancing in the reflection of his circular glasses, overlaid the green planes of his eyes. The events of the day were indeed strange, and he wondered if any of them corresponded to his dream. He hadn't even shared it with his friends. He didn't even know if it was real or not, but he hadn't seen any sign of Cedric, not even in the corridors between classes or in the Grand Hall for meals. He had unfortunately seen Malfoy, and wondered if he played any part in Cedric's sudden disappearance.

"And why would Dumbledore hire an assistant for a professor? I mean … I don't think we've ever had two teachers for a single class," Ron noted, blurting out some of their inner dialogue.

"No, but it's not like the Defense Against the Dark Arts has ever been a stable position. We've had a new teacher every year since we've been here," remarked Hermione.

"Right … " said Ron sitting forward in the chair with his arms resting on his knees, realizing the question may not have been all that helpful. They sat in an unsettling silence for a moment with nothing more than the crackly fireplace for warm company.

"He was an odd bloke, wasn't he?" said Ron returning to his more cheery self.

"He was ... if not for his brown clothes ... I would have mistaken him for Professor Snape," said Hermione honestly.

"Yeah, except he actually uses his face for expressions," joked Ron. They all laughed. Harry relished in this moment as he saw his friends' faces light up with joyous smiles warmed by the light of the fire. He prayed for more moments like these, and hoped for a normal year for once, but feared that may never come true, not while the Dark Lord remained free out there somewhere plotting his demise. Perhaps they could use Mr. Leufeyson's boggart against him, Harry mused playfully in his mind.

Once the trio seemed to have exhausted all inquiries, the exhaustion took them and they went off to bed. Hermione left for the girls dormitory while Ron and Harry left for the boys. The redhead and the chosen one settled in their beds. Harry peeled off his circular glasses and carefully placed them on the nightstand next to him, allowing his mind to rest and eyes flutter shut, but sweet dreams did not visit him that night.

Harry found himself in a quiet, dark corridor of Hogwarts with no windows. The flickering of candlelight and snoring of animated portraits provided the only company. The further he peered down the long hallway, the more the darkness stretched beyond his ability to see any end. The corridor felt eerily familiar, only there was one path forward, no corners to turn nor branches to take, only a single destined path. Suddenly, a slithery long movement along the side of the wall caught his eye. It was a big snake, a python, similar to the one he accidentally let loose on his cousin that one time they visited a zoo. Harry jumped back, but the snake slithered onward slowly, barely noticing him. There were strange markings on the animal not native to its normal species. A consistent pattern of misshapen circles usually stamped its skin, but parts of this pattern broke off to reveal what Harry believed to be symbols.

"Hello?" Harry asked in parseltongue, unsure if the snake was friend or foe. The mysterious animal stopped moving on its journey down the endless corridor to raise its head towards him, finally acknowledging his presence. "Who are you?" Harry asked in the snake language, but the limbless creature just tilted its head in confusion.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked, growing more frustrated, only this time he spoke clear English without knowing, and the snake responded.

"Hjem," it said, which made no sense to the young Gryffindor.

"What?" breathed Harry. The snake turned back to the long corridor and continued its journey into the darkness.

"Wait!" Harry called out and followed it. At the end of the darkness, a gold outline made of light traced itself on the stone wall, creating a door. It opened for the snake and the snake slithered in. Harry hesitated before entering as he put an arm up to shield himself from the harsh light. Carefully stepping forward crossing the threshold from the obscure darkness into the mysterious light. Once through the threshold, the door closed and his eyes adjusted. Harry found himself in a very large room with a high ceiling and tall windows where sunbeams shot through, a blunt contrast to the claustrophobic corridor. Odds and ends cluttered the extensive space with dusty old furniture, mirrors, chandeliers, books, candles, glass, cauldrons, tapestries, pictures, and jewelry. It looked like a place where objects had been dumped and forgotten.

Harry recognized the piles of stuff. He had been here before, except the center of the room had been cleared for a single table, free of any dust. The snake was nowhere to be found, but in its place was someone he did not expect. It was his least favorite Slytherin, in black slacks and a pure white button up shirt, leaning over the table. Harry knew his hair was bleach blonde, but his entire complexion from his face to his shirt to his trousers looked void of all color as if he was trapped in a world of black and white. A piece of unfamiliar jewelry dangled from his neck. His body was so hunched over, he looked as if he was concealing something.

"Malfoy?" Harry dared to ask. The slicked back blondie popped his head up startled. Frantically, he shoved the silver piece of jewelry in his button up before Harry could see it, and raised his wand, guarding the table.

"What happened to Cedric, Malfoy," Harry demanded.

"What's it to you, Potter," Malfoy spat, putting a pouty emphasis on the 'P.' Harry drew his wand expecting a duel when a voice entered the room.

"Do you enjoy hurting people?" it said softly bouncing off the spacious walls of the room. It was a surprisingly calm and gentle voice for asking such a disturbing question. Both Harry and Malfoy kept their wands up while scanning the room.

"What was that?" asked Harry. Draco's breath quickened.

"Making them feel small … making them feel afraid," the voice echoed. Harry thought for sure it was talking to Malfoy, but when he saw the look of terror painted on his face as the blonde Slytherin stared down the thin barrel of his wand, he wasn't so sure.

"You weren't born to be king … " the voice said, shifting to a more sinister tone, growing deeper in pitch. The end of the sentence became muffled and more localized. Malfoy slowly shifted his gaze behind him, revealing a bright, neon orange sphere resting on the table. A rumble shook the room. Some of the smaller, looser objects jingled. The sunbeams from the outside became muddled by smoky fumes. The room quaked again. Dust puffed out from the piles of junk. Malfoy's eyes darted around the room. He looked ready to run. The voice spoke again, far more distorted than its original state.

"You were born to cause pain … and suffering … and DEATH!" it said from the orange sphere.

Harry woke abruptly from the dream gasping for air. He groped around for his glasses and immediately put them on his face. He was back in the Gryffindor dormitory with Ron snoring away in the bed next to him. Harry looked out the window to make sure he was back in his own reality and saw the sun just beginning to shed light on the landscape of Hogwarts.

Chapter Text

A Brief Lesson in Mischief

A pair of freshly cleaned brown shoes, shined, buffed, and tied by magic, belonging to one tall Asgardian clicked along the cobblestone walkway with every step. Compared to yesterday, Loki physically had fully recovered thanks to Madam Pomfrey, though he was certain he did not need her help. Additionally, he mended his brown slacks so there were no rips or wrinkles, removed any possible stains from his white button up shirt, popped the collar to his variant jacket, straightened his tie around his neck, and kept his jet black hair blown back from his face. He may not like the TVA attire, but the least he could do was make himself sharply presentable. Loki stopped walking when he came to a stone ledge overseeing the school grounds. 

The day was bright and blue. He could see a glistening lake making friends with a thick forest, grassy hills flowing in harmony with large granite boulders, parts of the school embedded in the terrain. Loki leaned in closer, placing both hands on the wall to get a better look. Large cone shaped towers of various sizes with hardcore stone walls and long curious bridges leading to new adventures created the integrity of the school. The air was crisp and cool, traveling freely through the crevasses in its foundations, exploring its secrets and flooding it with life. 

He closed his emerald eyes, taking it in, letting the breeze brush past his pale face and gently comb through his raven hair. It carried the smell of autumn leaves, sweet cooking, warm fires, cold stone and freshly trimmed grass, and the tune of his mother’s lyre. It strummed a childhood melody, one she would always play for him and his brother when they were young, and on some days, when Heimdall would hear it coming from the throne of Asgard, he wouldn’t say a word. He wasn’t sure if he was mistaking the tune for music escaping somewhere from the castle or if it was just in his head, but he didn’t care. He could remember the glorious city, a series of interconnected golden spires, suspended towers and metal walls reflecting an otherworldly, divine glow surrounded by a body of water spilling off into the cosmos. Hogwarts truly was a remarkable spectacle, but it paled in comparison to Asgard. 

His recollection ended with the chatter of actual children. Loki opened his emerald green eyes like a judgemental black cat disturbed from a deep slumber. He looked towards the closest rolling hill leading to a circle of large stones and spotted the three mischievous scamps from the hospital. Loki went to investigate.

“I can't believe they're going to kill Buckbeak. It's just too horrible,” he heard the young girl say.

“It just got worse,” said the nervous redhead. Loki looked farther just past the trio and spotted the weaseling blonde haired boy with two other thuggish looking students.

“What did I say? Father said … I can keep the hippogriff's head, maybe I'll donate it to the Gryffindors' room,” Malfoy bragged as they peaked from behind one of the large stones to watch people approach Hagrid’s Hut. Ron, Harry and Hermione walked towards them, making a russell sound from behind. Malfoy and the other two boys turned around. Harry was surprised to see Malfoy in his usual overly confident, foul self given his previous dream. He wondered if it had any purpose at all. Loki followed closely behind out of sight.                   

“Look who's here. Come to see the show?” said Malfoy with a slick smile, that made even the Trickster sick. Loki waited, watching them carefully, placing silent bets on whether his variant would reveal themselves and who they might be.

"YOU!" declared Hermione who approached him with vigor. Loki raised his eyebrows, surprised. Malfoy’s smile disintegrated. 

"You foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!" she yelled pointing her wand directly in the boy's face with her other free hand locked and loaded near her cheek. Malfoy whimpered pathetically. Loki put his face in one hand, ashamed for his lack of conviction. 

"Hermione, no!" yelled Ron stopping her to Loki's dismay, "He's not worth it." She lowered her wand and turned away, only to trick him with a fake out, and sock Malfoy hard in the face after his snicker. His head bounced off a large stone behind him. Loki could not contain his enjoyment and revealed himself from behind the stone pillar.

"Ooooo … that looks like it hurt," he said sarcastically, leaning against it with a playful grin. Malfoy squealed at his sudden appearance. Most of them stepped back in fear.

"Bloody hell! When did he get here?!" said Ron unconsciously gripping Harry’s sleeve. Harry didn’t know who was more frazzled, Malfoy, Hermione, Ron, or Malfoy’s goons.

"I like her," said Loki pointing at the young witch. Hermione looked frantically away, with a frown, pushing some of her hair back behind one ear. She had never punched a fellow student before let alone gotten caught doing so in front of a teacher, and had that same teacher’s stamp of approval for it. She questioned his motives and ethics very much.

"What?! You are a teacher! Aren't you supposed to do something?!" said Malfoy, holding his bratty face. Loki put his hands casually in his pockets. He wasn’t sure if he was playing dumb or if he was indeed not that intelligent, so he decided to test those waters.

“Before or after she struck you?” the Trickster asked. Malfoy scrunched his face, stumped. 

“What?” he asked, shocked. So not that intelligent, Loki thought.

“Oh come on, you could have at least defended yourself or escaped. You had plenty of time to do something besides pathetically whimper in place,” he mocked. Malfoy froze up, his eyes flickering wide. Harry had seen him cower, scowl, or boast, but never verbally stabbed. He looked nervous, like this new teacher had poked at something he didn’t even want Crabbe and Goyle to see. Harry was beginning to like this new teacher. “And what could possibly warrant such a violent act, I wonder?” Loki jested further, taking two slow steps towards him. Hermione looked away embarrassed again, tugging at her own sleeve. Harry watched him advance smoothly with ease like a predator on the prowl while Ron remained attached to his arm. Malfoy took two steps back with Crabbe and Goyle who looked just as terrified and confused.

"What the hell is the matter with you?!" said the slick backed Slytherin. Loki gave him his signature grin, lifting the corners of his eyes. Hermione watched him too. Instinctively, she gripped her wand unsure of his true intentions. She noticed no trace of tears or wounds from yesterday, but she did see a strange, large word printed in bright orange on the back of his jacket. It read, 'VARIANT.'

"You’re a nutter you are! Wait till my father hears about this!" Malfoy spat defensively, but to his dismay, the comment only made Loki laugh. His striking resemblance to their unfavorable potions master mixed with the willingness to show emotions was probably one of the most confusing phenomenons Ron had ever witnessed.

"He's mental," Ron whispered to Harry.

"Is that really how you plan on threatening me? By hiding underneath Daddy's skirt?" he said unfazed and unimpressed while approaching the blond boy with open arms, waiting for him to try something. Malfoy and his two friends took some more steps back. Hermione crept closer to Harry and Ron.

"Now if you really want to threaten someone ... ” he began working himself up, “You should inspire … “ he said with more gravel in his voice. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle backed up into one of the large stones. Suddenly, a shadow figure with large horns popped out from the rock with glowing eyes. The three Gryffindors gasped at the terrifying figure.

“A touch of fear ,” the God of Mischief growled. Loki’s eyes flickered an illuminating, bright green. The figure grabbed the shoulders of Crabbe and Goyle. All three Slytherins looked up and yelled for dear life. Malfoy pushed his friends out of the way and ran. Crabbe and Goyle clumsily followed. Loki sadistically grinned with a slight chuckle, all too satisfied with himself. With a twist of his hand, the illusion vanished in a flash of gold and green sparks. He could feel his magic course through his veins. It felt good to practice it again. Loki then turned to the original trio, only to find them huddled together.

"Bloody hell," squeaked Ron. Harry never realized when he opened his mouth or for how long it remained that way.

“What … was that?” he said finally using it, terrified and inspired. Despite his first impression, with him at Lupin’s side, their Defense against the Dark Arts class was about to become the most unusual and exciting one thus far. Perhaps he could give Voldemort a run for his money. Loki threw him a side eyed glance and smiled smugly at his green eyed counterpart. Trembling, Hermione pulled herself from the huddle and doused his odd satisfaction.

"Do you realize what you have done?" she said in a more serious tone. Loki dropped his grin and glanced around his surroundings nonchalantly as if he did nothing wrong.

"I believe I just taught a student a valuable lesson," said Loki gesturing with an open palm in the direction Malfoy fled.

"You threatened a student!" she scolded. He put his hands on his hips and looked her up and down with scrutiny.

"You punched him," he deflected. Her brows furrowed and her lips slightly parted in shock and disgust at his childish demeanor, but she had no comeback for a logical observation.

"He's got a point ... you know," whispered Ron. She whipped her head around to glare at him, her hair bouncing as she did so.

"Are you going to report this, Professor?" asked Harry. Loki made direct eye contact with him, only darting his gaze to his scarred forehead when the breeze parted the boy’s hair. He could hear the song from his mother’s Lyre play again, except an anger stirred. He put on some charm so as not to show it.

"Well technically I am not a Professor, so no," said Loki slyly. All three of them exchanged concerned looks, not exactly what to make of his untraditional nature.

"Just like that? You’ll torment Malfoy, but let us go?" Ron asked dumbfounded. The answer seemed too good to be true.

"Ronald!” hissed Hermione. Harry glanced down the hill towards Hagrid’s Hut. He saw the Minister of Magic, the executioner, and the headmaster closing in on their destination and devised a plot.

“What about a hippogriff?” Harry asked rashly. Hermione shook her head at him.

“I beg your pardon?” Loki asked. Harry swallowed hard and pointed towards Hagrid’s cozy home.

“An animal … they’re going to kill him,” said Harry, sparing him the details. With a raised eyebrow, Loki peered down the hill and saw the stone hut with a roof that looked like a witch’s hat. A large creature with the head of an eagle, the body of a horse with wings of a very large bird slept in a pumpkin patch just short of it. He almost mistook it for a winged horse of the Valkyrie. Hermione got within earshot of Harry.

“What are you doing?! That’s a ministry matter. Malfoy’s father will be furious!” she hiss whispered to him. Ron shot his best friend with a confused look.

“Yeah, what are you playing at?” he whispered quickly, agreeing with Hermione.

Malfoy’s father was already furious from the hippogriff’s initial attack, a consequence of his son’s own stupidity, and soon to be more enraged. How much more trouble could they get into if they were already in the thick of it. Loki curiously watched them bicker. If Malfoy wasn’t his variant, these mischievous scamps definitely raised some green flags. He kept his eyes on the spectacled one. 

“As much as I would love to stand here and chat, what do you propose I do?” Loki politely intervened. 

“Set him free?” Harry asked innocently. Loki glanced at the hut once more. He had already taken into account Dumbledore’s presence. Honestly he’d seen too much of him, and the giant fellow with the bushy dark hair who looked too big for the hut itself, didn’t settle his nerves, albeit his movements were rather slow. The executioner with the overly exaggerated medieval ax and black hood was beyond cliche, and the other old man, shaven clean with a gray hat, gray trousers, gray coat, and gray vest looked like a positively boring businessman. If he did choose to act, would one of these three innocently looking children stab him in the back with the headmaster there, he wondered. He weighed his options.

Harry could feel him stalling and they were running out of time.

“Please Sir,” he pleaded. To his surprise, Lupin’s assistant grinned ear to ear.

“What’s life without a little bit of fun,” he remarked and proceeded down the hill.

Chapter Text

Zero Consequences

Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed the Trickster closely. Hermione felt torn, she wanted no part in breaking rules, but she didn’t want Buckbeak, Hagrid’s hippogriff, to die either. Yet, she couldn’t understand how this teacher thought he could scare Malfoy, release the majestic creature, AND get away with ZERO consequences. What perplexed her more, was the bright word on the back of his jacket, what it meant and why it was so prominent. It made it easy for her to follow him. Loki snuck around the pumpkins while Harry and Ron lagged behind.

“This is mad,” muttered Ron. They had been through worse, thought Harry. The Minister of Magic, the headmaster, and the executioner entered Hagrid's hut.

"Mr. Laufeyson!" Hermione whispered-called, but he pressed onward.

"Mr. Laufeyson!" She tried again. Buckbeak raised his regal head cooing in the pumpkin patch chained to a post. He looked bigger and more powerful up close. Loki was in awe of the animal’s sharp beak and patterned feathers. Ron and Harry finally caught up to them.

"Sir!" called Harry. Loki whipped his head around, swishing his black hair out of his face. Harry bent his body over respectfully and pointed to the hippogriff, gesturing for him to bow. The Trickster squinted his eyes in disbelief.

“You have got to be joking … ” he whispered arrogantly. Hermione and Ron vigorously nodded. Buckbeak blinked his third transparent eyelid focusing on Loki as he used his front taloned feet to push himself up. Loki sighed as he saw the creature was clearly taller and bigger than he was. He kept both arms opened, fingers sprawled to show he meant no harm and bowed slowly while keeping his green eyes on the beastie. The trio kept watchful eyes on the hut while hiding behind one of Hagrid’s giant pumpkins. Buckbeak cooed and lowered his large eagle head while tucking in one clawed leg gracefully. Loki made a slight audible gasp at the creature’s intelligence. Slowly he inched towards the half horsed beast.

"Let's get this over with, please." said a voice coming from Hagrid's hut. 

“Harry …” squeaked Ron, crouching lower behind the pumpkin. Loki’s emerald eyes darted to hut as he carefully placed a hand on Buckbeak’s soft, feathered neck, tracing his hand down to the chain. 

"All right." said Dumbledore, stepping out from Hagrid’s home.

“Come on,” whispered Harry. Loki’s heart pounded at the thought of getting caught. A flash of green and gold from his hand transformed the chain into a harness and saddle for the hippogriff, disconnecting Buckbeak from the post. Hermione gasped. Ron looked dumbfounded. The Trickster pulled himself up onto the creature and trotted forward into the trees. The Minister of Magic and Hagrid followed Dumbledore outside.

"Move!" commanded Hermione and they scampered off into the woods. The Minister of magic looked around frantically.

"But where is it? I saw the beast, just now. Not a moment ago!" said Corenlious Fudge, the Minister of Magic.

"How extraordinary." remarked Dumbledore.

"Buckbeak." whispered Hagrid, scanning the area.

"Come now, Dumbledore. Someone's obviously released him. Hagrid?" said Corenlious.

"Buckbeak," whispered Hagrid again, searching the pumpkin patch.

"Don't think the Minister's suggesting you had anything to do with this. How could you? You've been with us all the time," they could hear Dumbledore say the further they got away. They used the outskirts of the forest to shield themselves from sight as they approached the lake. A playful grin tugged at the corners of Loki’s mouth and he lost himself to the marvel of the open air and the winged creature. He gripped the reins and dug his heel into the horse thigh of the bird beast. Buckbeak made a deep, eagle-like screech and reared upwards before spreading his large wings and bounding off. Just before they reached the water, they took off. The three Gryffindors watched in vain as they flew farther and farther away.

"That lunatic! He left us! " Ron said, finally breaking their silence.

"Yeah, but at least Buckbeak is safe," said Harry.

"Yeah if no one finds out," remarked Hermione, crossing her arms. She had an uneasy feeling this defiant act would come back to haunt them. "Harry, did you notice?" asked Hermione, concerned about something else that had been gnawing at her mind. Harry turned towards her.

"Notice what?" he asked. Ron seemed to sense what she was going to say next, having grown up in the wizarding world unlike Harry. 

"He … performed magic … without a wand," said Hermione uncomfortably.

"Yeah, so? Dobby can do that. I'm sure other people can," said Harry, not fully understanding.

"Yeah magical, non-human folk can ... but not people Harry," said Ron carefully.

"Why not?" he asked, confused. Ron and Hermione shared worrisome glances.

"To perform magic without a wand is beyond most wizards and witches. Unless controlled, magic can be raging, chaotic and volatile – that's why wizards use wands to channel it – and requires the utmost skill and discipline to control," Hermione explained. Harry thought for a moment.

"So, what are you suggesting?" he asked. Ron and Hermione paused.

"He's either a very powerful wizard or ... he's mad as hell," finished Ron,"my money's on the latter. I mean, don’t get me wrong, him scaring Malfoy was brilliant, but why would Dumbledore hire someone like that?" he added.

“I dunno,” Hermione said softly. “Did you get a look at the back of his jacket?” she also asked. Harry recalled the bright orange lettering.

“Yeah, what about it?” he asked.

"What do you suppose it means?" she inquired. Harry hadn’t the slightest clue, but it reminded him of something he saw on the news or something from a TV show his cousin would mindlessly watch. It looked like something a prisoner would wear.

Loki soared on the horizon with the magnificent hippogriff. The feathers were soft but the body was strong. He imagined that this was how the Valkyries had flown on their winged horses, which seemed like a silly notion at the time. Given the far perspective from the flight, Loki could better see the tall spires of Hogwarts and the vastness of its structure. If the school was anything like Asgard, there was more to this edifice than met the eye. Its secrets begged to be discovered by the right person. Suddenly, Buckbeak decided to make his own decision and fly closer to the lake, letting a single claw splash against the water. This ride would have given Mobius' jet ski a run for its money. What if he just escaped on this great creature, freedom not so far from his grasp. Loki took back some control with the reins and landed the creature on the other side of the body of water away from the castle. With a wave of his hand, he removed the saddle and harness in green and gold dust. Buckbeak made a cooing, bird noise, and shook his mighty head. The Trickster snickered. He could see why those three had a soft spot for the beast. Then, a portal noise came from behind him.

"Having fun are we?" said a familiar yet disapproving voice from behind. Loki spun around, elated.

"Mobius!" he gasped. If Mobius’ TVA attire was not a dead give away that he did not belong at the school, his voice surely was. Loki could hear his folksy accent and kind cadence anywhere, but The TVA agent had his arms crossed, and did not look pleased. The Trickster dropped his smile.

"What are you doing Loki?" he asked like a parent to a child.

"Well ... " he began but Buckbeak pushed him with his beak. Mobius closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his broken nose.

"Have you ever seen one of these? I think you might give up your precious jet skis after riding one," Loki joked.

"Loki! ... you are here for one reason and one reason only: to catch your variant," Mobius lectured with a finger firmly pointed at him. Loki sighed and watched Buckbeak prance around.

"Do you understand? Renslayer wants to pull you from the mission after your fiasco in the classroom," he said more sternly.

“That wasn’t my!- “ he began defensively, but stopped abruptly, “Hang on, how do you know about that?” 

Mobius glared at him with zero expression and blinked a few times with a completely relaxed face, his arms still at his sides. “Really Loki? Really?” he said as a matter of fact, knowing fully well how reluctant Loki was at admitting fault or how formidable the TVA could be. The Trickster shook his head changing subject.

"Mobius, have you seen how big this place is?" he said, gesturing to the school grounds, "not to mention that it's not exactly your run of the mill castle." The agent exhaled deeply, remembering Dumbledore's office.

"Alright, alright, but no more distractions,” said Mobius, his eyes wandering to the multi-faceted creature searching for a tasty morsel. "-and now you've stolen ... " he continued, gesturing to Buckbeak, not entirely sure what to make of the beast.

"A hippogriff ... oh come on! It's cool! And they were going to kill him anyway!" argued Loki.

"Loki!" said Mobius losing his patience, "anymore incidents like this and I have to take you back!" Loki's heart sank. Buckbeak came close enough to nudge him again.

"Alright, Mobius ... alright, I understand," said Loki. He stroked the beast's feathers again. Mobius let out a long breath gazing at the creature.

"He's impressive," Mobius had to admit, "but I think I would still prefer a jet ski."

Chapter Text

A Past Self

The next morning, Harry woke up happily to a day free of strange dreams, though his mind buzzed with the events of yesterday. Curiosity about the new teacher and the mysteries of the transformed and shadow figure lingered. Luckily, the anonymity of the hippogriff’s escape remained sealed, but the day was still young. Harry grabbed his round glasses and secured them to his face. Once his vision refocused, he saw that Ron’s bed was empty. He figured he had either left for breakfast or classes. Harry got dressed for the day when he saw a crisp, pristine letter resting on his night stand. It didn’t look like something Ron would leave him. Harry opened the letter to discover that it was a polite summoning from the headmaster. His heart sank; he feared it had something to do with the missing hippogriff. He tucked the letter into his robe pocket and left the Gryffindor common. The young wizard traveled down the tower of shifting staircases, walls covered completely by animated portraits. They conversed with each other, their faces and frames aglow by soft candlelight. A few ghosts floated along, greeting him good morning. The atmosphere, a blend of magic and history, felt more like home than the oppressive house in Little Whinging. 

Once Harry reached the bottom floor, he moved in the vast, curved hallways with the flow of Hogwarts students, Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Slytherins alike. He saw some familiar faces either going to classes or conversing with friends. The one he still saw no trace of belonged to the handsome Hufflepuff who haunted his dreams. Harry made his way to the Gargoyle protecting the winding staircase to Dumbledore’s office. Once the stone sculpture elevated him to the top, Harry paused just before the door. He heard someone speak to Dumbledore, someone he unfortunately recognized all too well.

“Have you ever considered that you ask too much? That you take too much for granted? Has it ever crossed your brilliant mind that these risks may be … too great?” said Severus Snape, the infamous, daunting potions master of the school and one of Harry’s biggest critics next to Draco Malfoy, to the headmaster. Neville had every right to fear him. Professor Snape was harsh, cold, and damn near unapproachable. One sarcastic quip from him would zap the spirit of any student, and Harry would know, he seemed to have a personal vendetta against him. For that same reason, Harry never trusted him.

“The circumstances are too great. We need all the help we can get,” responded Dumbledore, perhaps one of the very few people comfortable enough to be around him, 

“He’s arrogant, unpredictable, and-”

“And given a second chance, don’t tell me you stopped believing in them now,” Dumbledore answered for him. Harry could not make out the rest of the conversation, not until Dumbledore dismissed Professor Snape. “I will not negotiate with you, Severus,” the headmaster concluded calmly, yet firmly. Harry backed away from the door when he heard huffy footsteps grow louder. Snape jerked the door open only to pause abruptly upon spotting the chosen one, sending him a seething glare with his pitch black eyes. Harry returned the favor and did not back down nor look away. Silently, Snape strode past him, unblocking the threshold. 

"Ah, Harry, I see you got my message. Come in." said Dumbledore warmly next to Fawkes. He stroked the bird's rich red feathers seemingly unfazed by his previous conversation.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Fine, Sir." said Harry.

"Enjoying your classes?" asked Dumbledore kindly.

"Yes, Sir." 

Dumbledore peered over his glasses with a gleam in his eyes. "Even this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts class?" he probed. Harry thought for a moment, remembering most of his Defense Against the Dark Arts classes throughout the years.

"Yes, Sir. It’s no stranger than the last I’m afraid," Harry jested. Dumbledore hummed a chuckle.

“What about your activities outside the classroom?” Dumbledore asked, standing up from his desk. Harry grew nervous. He thought for certain that the headmaster knew something about Buckbeak. Perhaps that was the conversation between him and Snape.

“Sir?” Harry asked.

“Well, I noticed you spend a great deal of time with Miss Granger. I can't help wondering if… ”

“Oh, no, no. I mean… She's brilliant, and we're friends, but... no,” Harry answered hastily with a bit of relief. Dumbledore smiled.

“Forgive me. I was mainly being curious. But enough chit chat. You must be wondering why I summoned you here tonight,” replied the headmaster. Harry nodded. Dumbledore walked over to an intricate and ornate cabinet. He opened the hexagonal prism doors so they spread wide, showing off the vials and vials of memories in the shelves. At the very center was his pensieve, a shallow metal basin nested in stone with strange runes carved into it. It was filled with a silvery substance that could be mistaken for a cloudy gas or liquid, where memories of people could be siphoned into it. The pensieve was a very rare and powerful magical item used to store and review memories, only advanced wizards ever used them. This light from the large shallow bowl was bright, whitish silver, cloud-like, and moved ceaselessly. Harry always thought the content in the basin looked like “ light made liquid, or wind made solid. ”

Dumbledore plucked one of the silver vials from one of the shelves and showed it to him.  

“The answer lies here. What you're looking at are memories I have collected over the years. In this case pertaining to one individual,” the headmaster explained. Harry Potter took a deep breath.

“Voldemort,” he said, readying himself.

“No … Mr. Laufeyson,” said Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eye as he held the corked vial in his hand. Harry furrowed his brow staring at the captive memory. The inquiries and theories proposed by Ron and Hermione popped into his head.

“Mr. Laufeyson, Sir? Why?" asked Harry.

"Because I wish to collect him," answered Dumbledore, which confused Harry even more.

"But you already have him as a teacher?" he asked.

"Technically, he is on loan to us, but I would like to make his occupation ... a bit more permanent. I'd like you to see it, if you would,” said Dumbledore, handing him the vial. Harry gently took it and unplugged the tiny glass container, pouring its silvery contents into the pensieve. The runes on the side lit up and extinguished one by one. Harry didn’t know what to expect, but he carefully plunged his face into the shallow basin anyway.

The pensieve transported himself into the memory. Harry found himself in a glorious room adorned in metals, gold, and large braziers of fire. A clear path laid out before him where a rich draped tapestry covered the threshold. He could hear a crowd from the other side. The environment felt far more pristine than Hogwarts, except somehow older, like the architecture and decorations of the past had evolved into the future. Despite being in a memory, Harry nearly jumped when he realized he wasn’t alone. An unusually muscular man with long blond hair wearing a bright red cape and gold armor stood waiting next to him holding a gold helmet with solid metal feathers crowning at the ears. Suddenly, another person entered from a dark corner of the room. He wore similar armor to the blond man, only it was gold, green and black with a long dark green cape. Atop his head was a golden horned headpiece. To Harry's surprise, he recognized his face. It was Mr. Laufeyson. He stood next to the blond haired man. Harry couldn’t decide whether to laugh or be impressed. Their attire looked like costumes.

"Nervous, brother?" he said smugly.

"Brother?" said Harry to himself.

"Have you ever known me to be nervous?" said the blonde man with a proud smile.

"There was the time in Nornheim..." Mr. Laufeyson began to tease.

"That wasn't nerves, brother. It was the rage of battle. How else could I have fought my way through a hundred warriors and pulled us out alive?" retorted the blonde haired man.

Another person with less armor and flowing robes approached with a goblet of wine.

"As I recall, I was the one who veiled us in smoke to ease our escape," said Mr. Laufeyson, continuing the conversation.

"Some do battle, others just do tricks," said the blond haired man in jest, only it did not feel like a light joke.

The person with the wine stifled a laugh. Mr. Laufeyson noticed, clearly not liking the sound. He made a hand gesture towards the goblet in the person's hand. Snakes pour over the sides of the goblet, slithering out and across the terrified attendant's hand. He screamed, hurling the goblet to the ground. Mr. Laufeyson chuckled.

"Was that necessary?" said the blonde man sarcastically. Mr. Laufeyson waved his hand again to the snakes on the ground. They turned back to spilled wine, the illusion shattered.

"Now that was just a waste of good wine," said the blonde man.

"Just a bit of fun," said Mr. Laufeyson, smiling with mischief, a playful facade, but it transitioned into something a bit more real.

"I've looked forward to this day as long as you have. You're my brother and my friend. Sometimes I'm envious, but never doubt that I love you." said Mr. Laufeyson.

The Blonde man searched his brother's face, seeing no trace of irony, believing his words to ring true. He put an appreciative hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Thank you," he said kindly. The two brothers stared into each other's eyes for a moment.

"Give us a kiss," said Mr. Laufeyson, returning to his mischievous self and ruining the heartfelt exchange. The Blond brother smiled, breaking into a laugh, tapping the side of Mr. Laufeyson's helmet.

"Stop." he said in jest.

It was at this point the memory evaporated, and Harry was pulled back into his reality, back in the headmaster’s office. He stood in front of the pensieve searching its cloudy liquid for answers.

“Confused? I’d be surprised if you weren’t,” said Dumbledore. Harry took a beat to think.

"Sir ... what was that?" asked Harry. The flood of information posed so many questions.

"The identity of a person long past. Harry, as you know, Mr. Laufeyson is a complicated man, which is why I am treating this task delicately," said Dumbledore.

"You want me to get to know him better, Sir?" asked Harry.

"Yes … and without divulging any of this information to him, otherwise he may not return to Hogwarts. If you need help, I’d keep spending time with Ms. Granger. I believe she is taking Ancient Runes this year,” added the headmaster.

Chapter Text

The Witness

Loki leaned against one of the tall stone walls of Hogwarts with his arms crossed and tucked away, waiting for the headmaster. Some students passed by a perpendicular corridor connected to his empty one. Dumbledore was supposed to show him where the murder took place and eventually introduce him to the witness. He stood there staring at the smooth cobblestone floor lost in thought and somewhat bored. Professor McGonagall rounded the corner, her long draping sleeves and wizarding robes flowing effortless behind her. She paused before she made her way to the black haired figure from the hospital. She nearly mistook him for Severus if not for his muggle clothes, bright eyes, and expressive posture. She still found it hard to believe that he was fully recovered and wondered where on earth Albus found such a person. Minerva hoped he was the solution to their problem. Curious and cautious as a cat, but assertive as head of Gryffindor House, she walked towards Loki.

“Mr. Laufeyson … Professor Dumbledore has asked me to escort you,” she said firmly yet quietly. Loki straightened his posture and put his hands in his pockets. He recognized her as the authoritative old woman with the ridiculous name and elegant hat.

“And, where is the headmaster?” Loki asked curiously, yet slightly offended. She noticed he had an odd sense of charm and politeness despite his crass first impression.

“He apologizes for not being able to attend, but he is currently engaged. If you will follow me please,” she said, gesturing forward towards their intended destination. He followed her lead reluctantly, recalling the first time he had to trail behind Mobius when he arrived at the TVA. They never gave him straight forward answers either. She was tall for a woman and carried herself with ease. Minerva guided him down candlelit corridors with curved archways, and talking portraits, far away from most of the students. The atmosphere possessed less and less natural light the further she took him. He suspected the school had its secrets but he certainly did not want to become one of them.

“Ah, I believe we got off on the wrong foot. Where exactly are we going?” he asked nervously walking next to her instead of behind. “I thought I was supposed to be introduced to the witness and the scene of the crim-” The word vomit ceased pouring from his mouth when she stopped at a cobblestone wall.

“What is this?” he demanded, fully alert, half expecting to be double crossed. 

“The Room of Requirement,” said a whimsical, high pitched voice. Loki quickly whipped his head to the side to find a short young girl with extremely long, curly blonde hair, and swimmingly bright blue eyes. A bird emblem of blue and silver sported her school uniform. He could hear his mother’s Lyre play again. It was the first time he had seen someone with actual blonde and blue eyes since … well since New York. His brother always did have a fascination with birds ...

“The … what?” he asked, completely caught off guard by her sudden appearance, his face frowned.

“Mr. Laufeyson, This is Ms. Luna Lovegood … our witness,” Professor McGonagall interjected with a hint of sadness. 

“Hello, Sir,” she said in a calm, breathy tone, void of any meanness. 

“Hello … “ he responded. Loki kept a close eye on her, skeptical of her carefree nature.

“Mr. Laufeyson is here investigating Mr. Diggory’s case, Ms. Lovegood. Would you care to tell him what you saw?” Professor McGonagall asked with utmost care. Luna nodded.

“It was very late … I think, I sleep walk you see, that’s why I wear shoes to bed,” She began. The Trickster raised both of his eyebrows.

“Uh huh,” he said, bracing himself for whatever else she might say, his mouth partly ajar as he looked down at her.

“That’s when a loud sound woke me, just there,” she said pointing to an adjacent wall. Loki slowly took his gaze off her to look at the stone barrier. He could see just how dense and strong the walls of the school were with parts that had been cracked and blown away. The damage didn’t get very far and it disturbed him.

“Uh huh,” he said, still not convinced. Anxiously he thought something bad was about to happen, he was sure of it. “Forgive me … but there’s nothing here,” he said, gesturing to the dead end of the corridor.

“It’s the Room of Requirement,” Luna said in her carefree tone.

“Yes, haha … you’ve already said that,” he said animatedly with a forced smile to hide his concern for her mental well being.

“ It's also known as the Come and Go Room. It only appears when someone is in great need of it, and contains what that person needs at that time ,” she responded quite calmly and clearly. Loki’s sarcasm didn’t affect her whimsical aura. Luna turned towards the stone wall. “I don’t know why Cedric was in need of it … “ she continued, losing herself to her sad memory. Loki relaxed his fake smile while listening to her. “I thought he was practicing spells, he blew a hole in the wall you see … but then, there was another person, in black and green …” Luna continued. Professor McGonagall blinked with worry. All expressions faded from the Trickster. “I never saw their face … just an orange light, and then they were gone,” she finished, a haunted thought swam in her eyes. Luna covered herself with her arms as if she was cold.

“Very, well. Thank you Ms. Lovegood! You may go,” Professor McGonagall said quickly, freeing her. Luna nodded without looking at them and turned to walk away.

“Oh, and Luna … if you need to talk to someone,” Professor McGonagall added kindly. Luna nodded again. Loki watched the long blonde haired girl leave down the corridor, making sure she was real. Minerva exhaled sharply once she was completely gone.

“What do you suppose this means, Mr. Laufeyson ?” she asked. The corners of her eyes drooped in great concern. Loki returned to the mysterious stone wall.

“I think … I need to get into the Room of Requirement.”

Chapter Text

Archives and Libraries

Back at the TVA, Mobius secluded himself away in another time theater, hoping he could get a moment of peace without Hunter B-15 or anyone else interrupting his work again. He hadn’t been alerted to any spike on the timeline, but he and Loki were progressing nowhere fast; so, he paid a trip to the TVA archives for more information. However, when he requested reels from the various names he collected thus far from Loki’s adventures at the magical school, nothing came up, not even for the elusive Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore or the late Cedric Diggory. Mobius could only conclude that they never had their temporal aura logged, or they never had variants to begin with, which seemed quite rare given the circumstances. Perhaps the Time Keepers had already determined their set paths, which could explain why a Loki Variant was not meant to be there. Mobius’ only option was to check out a holoprojector to see where Loki left off. 

The agent switched on the orange retro sphere. A light projected a movie memory, and Mobius flipped through Loki’s reel past the mythical beast he set free. Mobius shook his head, and snickered. Loki always had a way of getting away with things. At least that endeavor was relatively harmless. Mobius continued through the reel until he encountered the stone wall with an odd blonde girl.

“It’s the Room of Requirement,” she said.

Mobius smiled at her carefree nature.

“Yes, haha … you’ve already said that,” said his sarcastic Trickster.

“Oh come, Loki. She’s just a kid,” Mobius scolded as if he was there with him.

“ It's also known as the Come and Go Room. It only appears when someone is in great need of it, and contains what that person needs at that time … I don’t know why Cedric was in need of it … I thought he was practicing spells, he blew a hole in the wall you see … but then, there was another person, in black and green …” Luna continued.  

Mobius sighed on the edge of his seat. He didn’t want to believe a Loki Variant could have taken the life of a child, but all the evidence seemed to point in that direction. The question was why.

“I never saw their face … just an orange light, and then they were gone,” she finished, disturbed.

“Very, well. Thank you Ms. Lovegood! You may go,” Professor McGonagall said quickly.

Mobius rubbed his worried forehead in anguish. He thought she was far too young to have witnessed something so horrible.

“What do you suppose this means, Mr. Laufeyson ?” asked the wise old witch. 

Mobius perked his head up. “My thoughts exactly,” the salt and peppered haired analyst said to himself.

“I think … I need to get into the Room of Requirement,” answered his Loki counterpart.

“Couldn’t agree more,” Mobius concluded. He quickly turned off the device, locked the theater and headed back to the archives with an extra pep in his step for finally he had a new lead. Only did he creep around corners for fear of being stopped by B-15 or Renslayer did he slow down. The archives had the same retro interior decorating as the rest of the TVA, if someone could even call it that; dimly lit, consisting of dark green and brown colors with the occasional orange line or label. If someone looked up or down, however, they would see the many looped layers of the vast library. Once he reached the main desk, an elderly woman with glasses tapped softly behind a computer. 

“Back again, I see?” said the Librarian barely looking up from her device.

“Yes, I need files on the Hogwarts architecture,” Mobius said politely. She glanced up at him apathetically, and typed something on her computer.

“I’ll see what I can find,” she said as she slowly got up from her desk. When she returned which felt like an eternity, she plopped down a thin filing folder in front of him. The mustached, salt and peppered analyst flipped it open with a stern look of disapproval.

“What? That’s it? That can’t be it,” he complained. The librarian returned his look with a slow blink of disappointment. Mobius sighed.

“Just give me all the files on the school, anything you can find,” he pleaded. She rolled her eyes, but left to fulfill his request regardless.

The wavy hair of one light brunette spilled over an open book. Hermione had rummaged ambitiously through the vast library of Hogwarts, searching for any trace of a ‘Mr. Laufeyson.’ She couldn’t handle it anymore, her thirst for answers needed to be quenched, and she came up empty except for one book which boggled her mind. She sat in the main hall next to Ron who was more concerned about feeding his stomach than his mind. She lifted her head only to glare at him when an unsavory noise emanated from his overly stuffed mouth.

"What?" asked Ron, feeling the heat from her stare.

"Will. You. Stop. Eating?!" said Hermione, taking the book and hitting Ron with it in rhythm with her words. 

“What?? I’m hungry!” Ron pleaded. She reopened the book to her saved page when Harry joined them at the long table lined with various food and drink. Candles floated high above their heads.

“Harry!” she said elated to see him.

“Where’ve you been, mate? You missed Divination class,” remarked Ron, finally putting down his food. Hermione rolled her big brown eyes.

“Oh, honestly, Ron. If you ask me, Divination Is a woolly discipline. Now, Ancient Runes, that's a fascinating subject,” she said, placing her book flat on the table for all of them to see.

“Ancient Runes? Exactly how many classes are you taking?” asked Ron, completely oblivious to the book.

“A fair few,” she answered, trying to remain on topic.

“Hang on. That's not possible. Ancient Runes is at the same time as Divination. You have to be in two classes at once,” Ron thought out loud.

“Nevermind that, what exactly … have you learned in that class, Hermione?” Harry probed carefully. Dumbledore’s not so subtle hint nagged at the back of his mind. Hermione smiled, bubbling at the brim to expel all of her knowledge on the subject.

“Ancient runes were a form of writing which witches and wizards used hundreds of years ago. What makes them so fascinating, is not only their shape or design, but rather their ability to reach across time. They could be used for magical purposes, such as divination, casting, spells and enchantments, and even in potions by inscribing runes onto a cauldron or on vials,” she explained. 

Ron tapped his fingers on the table with his head resting in his other free hand.

“Riveting … “ said Ron sarcastically, clearly uninterested. Hermione scoffed at him. Harry also wanted a more relevant point. 

“And what’s even more fascinating, is that a particular name popped up,” she continued proudly, “I’m sure you can guess which one,” she said looking at Harry who leaned forward. Hermione spun the book around so Harry could read it. The page depicted strange edgy symbols similar to the ones he saw on the basin of Dumbledore’s pensieve. He had never recognized them as anything before, until now. Next to the runes, was a depiction of a hieroglyphic figure in colors of green, black, and gold. Hermione placed a finger on the text under it. ‘Loki Laufeyson’ it read. Harry happily grinned.

“Brilliant! What’s it say about him?” he asked. Hermione’s smile faded to a subtle frown and her brows knitted together.

“About him? Harry … you don’t actually think this is Lupin’s assistant?” she asked, gently tapping the page. Harry looked to Ron for help, but he shrugged just as clueless.

“Well, yeah … I mean, why bring this up if it wasn’t?” he asked her skeptically. Hermione sighed.

“These runes can be traced back to these ancient people, but that was hundreds of years ago, well before the founding of Hogwarts. They’re practically myth at this point. If Lupin’s assistance is using this name, it must be an alias,” she explained. Harry leaned back away from the book deflated. 

“Look … It’s the only place where this name pops up. Trust me … I’ve searched,” she said, less elated than before.

“But that doesn’t make any sense … Why would Dumbledore hire someone under a fake name?” Ron inquired quietly. Harry pondered. He wouldn't, he thought, unless he was protecting something or someone, and the memories he shared with him were far too convincing to suggest otherwise. Hermione noticed some of their fellow classmates leaving the main hall.

“Come on, we can talk more about it later. We don’t want to be late for class,” she said, packing up her things.

Chapter Text

Two Snapes and a Ginger

Against his true wishes, Professor McGonagall led Loki back to the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. What he really wanted to do … was break into the doorless room. Technically, it wouldn’t cause any real trouble since he was supposed to be there. He had a hard time believing in its existence anyhow. The aloof girl didn’t provide any new information regarding the crime either. He was contemplating going back, when Minerva closed the door to the classroom behind him. All the windows were clamped firmly shut, creating an eerie atmosphere. A single projector gave the only source of light. For a split second, he thought he had somehow walked through one of the TVA’s orange portal doors and into a time theater if not for the students, except they were seated in desks rather than staggering about. Loki scanned the room and recognized a few familiar faces; the skittish Neville, the weasley Malfoy, and of course the three mischievous scamps, Ron, Harry, and Hermione. Their impressions were moving into his memory banks like uninvited house guests. However, the one guest he did not see was Mobius’ wizard look-alike, Lupin. Instead, he was met with a most unpleasant substitute. 

"Turn to page 394." it said. Loki looked up to find the man the Neville boy feared, the one that had an uncanny resemblance to him, minus some obvious facial features. He squinted his eyes at the black haired man covered from wrist, to toe, to neck in nothing but black. Loki wasn’t sure if he was real or just a bad joke.

“Hello … I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced?” the Trickster asked politely with a charming, yet not so friendly smile. Malfoy rolled his eyes, but kept quiet and out of Loki’s line of sight. Neville mustered up the courage to turn around in his seat to get a better look.

“No … we have not,” he said as if he could care less. Severus wrote something on the chalkboard before addressing him, taking his time. Loki didn’t appreciate him making him wait for a clearer answer. The potions master turned away from the board, folding his covered arms carefully one over the other, finally acknowledging the Tricker’s presence. Loki could not help but notice that he had written, 'werewolf,’ a curious word.

“I am Professor Snape … and I will be teaching class … this evening,” he said in his slow paced, well-spoken manner of speaking that surprisingly seemed to bewitch people from interrupting him and command their attention. Loki scoffed.

“Is that right? And where is Professor Lupin?" the Trickster asked, completely dismissing his authority. Loki realized had been kept well informed of meetings and changes until now. Harry wanted an answer to that question as well. He was sure the last thing he and some of the other students wanted was a double dose of their smug potions master. 

“Professor Lupin finds himself incapable of teaching … at the present moment … so your services will not be needed," snarked Snape. Loki put his hands in his pockets.

"Is that so?" Loki's voice, confident and challenging, cut through the tension in the room. He could see how Snape might intimidate a student, but he was, as Mobius might say, ‘a little pussycat’ to the God of Mischief.

"Then you wouldn't mind if I observed another professor’s teaching methods. I am a learning assistant, after all," he said cleverly with sarcasm disguised by politeness. The air in the room grew thin. Harry could have sworn he saw a flicker of anger behind Snape's expressionless, black eyes.

"If ... you ... must," said Snape, obviously irritated. Ron snickered. In the back of the class, Loki assumed a seat, arms crossed and feet propped on the desk, the picture of a disobedient student. If looks could kill, the entire classroom would have been obliterated by the impact of Snape's and Loki's death glares. Harry subconsciously rooted for Lupin’s assistant to win.

"Turn to page 394." said Snape before breaking their intense eye contact. It took a moment for the students to react. Snape whipped out his wand and pointed at Ron's book, forcing it open to page 394. The redhead flinched.

"Werewolves"? questioned Ron.

"Sir, we just learned about red caps and hinkypunks. We're not meant to start that for weeks." complained Hermione.

"Quiet." demanded Snape. Loki made his gaze tighter.

"Now, which one of you can tell me the difference... between an Animagus and a werewolf?" asked Snape. Hermione vigorously raised her hand. Loki wondered why Snape would not select her.

"No one? ... How disappointing." said Snape sarcastically. Furry burned in Loki’s chest.

"Please, sir. An Animagus is a wizard who elects to turn into an animal. A werewolf has no choice. With each full moon... he no longer remembers who he is. He'd kill his best friend. Furthermore, the werewolf only responds to the call of its own kind." she answered, which to Loki's surprise he did find interesting. Suddenly, Malfoy howled like a wolf to mock her. Loki was usually an advocate for such mischief, but he was glad she had previously punched him in the face.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy ... That's the second time... you've spoken out of turn, Miss Granger. Are you incapable of restraining yourself... or do you take pride in being an insufferable know-it-all?" snapped Snape.

"He's got a point, you know." whispered Ron.

"Five points from Gryffindor." demanded Snape. A scowl etched across Loki's face, a mixture of irritation and disdain evident in his narrowed eyes.

"Rude," the Trickster blurted out over the classroom. 

Snape shot him another death glare. 

"That was one of the most insightful things I've heard all day, and you punish her for it?" retorted Loki. Silence descended upon the class like a heavy shroud, broken only by the soft rustle of parchment. Stunned, Hermione attempted to hide her smirk.

"Well now ... As an antidote to your ignorance, I could give them more work on the subject matter Mr. Laufeyson ... I'm sure Ms. Granger would be happy to tell you all about it," said Snape in a quiet yet threatening manner. The class groaned. However, Snape's threat produced an opposite effect.

"Work? How dreadfully boring,” said Loki, disappointed.

"Oh bloody hell here we go," whispered Ron, worried about his next choice of words.

“If you must drown them in parchment, might I suggest a topic that doesn't put the entire class to sleep? How about the intricate art of tea brewing? Or the riveting history of napkin-folding spells? Let's not burden young minds unnecessarily, Professor Snape. We wouldn't want to stifle their creativity, would we?" Loki smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. Little quiet laughters and gasps rippled through the classroom. Hermione’s mouth fell right open, feeling tainted by his previous support.

“Is he trying to provoke him??” she hissed to her friends.

“Who cares!” Ron whispered with far too much enjoyment. In all the years Harry had known Snape, he never met anyone who could draw out a sliver of expression from Snape's face, even if it was a bad one. Severus stepped dangerously closer to him with two audible foot steps that silenced the rest of the students.

"Mr. Laufeyson ... need I remind you ... that you are nothing more than on loan ... to this school ... "began Snape. Malfoy grinned, waiting anxiously for the head of Slytherin to deliver justice. Loki swept his feet from the desk and stood up with a subtle defiance as he straightened, a slow smirk dancing on his lips. "Loaned or not, I've always believed in making a lasting impression." The remark hung in the air. Ron snickered.

“I think he’s already done that,” the redhead quietly snarked. Hermione snuck her signature elbow in his side. Neville and Harry, on the other hand, were enthralled, and could not take their eyes off him. Suddenly, Loki broke into a soft cackle, his ego getting the better of him. "I mean … is that really the best you can do?" he finished. Harry could not help but feel that Mr. Laufeyson was implying something. Swiftly, Snape drew his wand, casting a spell to open the door behind Loki. Light from outside flooded the room harshly, torturing their eyes.

"Expelliamous!" yelled Snape, casting a second spelling, throwing Loki out of the classroom. The Trickster flew backwards and hit the stone wall hard, flopping him to the floor. Instantly, Snape shut the door with another wave of his wand and locked it. Loki pushed himself half way up, and flicked his black hair out of his face.

"Damn it," he said. He could hear his lesser doppelganger from inside barking orders at them.

"On my desk, by Monday morning... two rolls of parchment on the werewolf, with emphasis... on recognizing it!"

Loki wanted to storm back into the classroom when two pairs of helping arms peeled him off the ground.

"You alright, mate?" asked the tall redhead to Loki's right, a concerned expression on his long face.  The one on his left, identical in every aspect, chuckled. "You took quite the tumble."

Loki's lips parted in confusion. He whipped his head from right to left a few times before completely ripping himself from them. Loki backed away to get a bigger picture with his arms and hands up defensively while frantically shifting his eyes from one person to the other.

“Whoa, mate!” said the tall ginger on the right with his hands up in surrender.

“We mean no harm,” said the other tall ginger on the left with no hands raised.

"Hey, aren't you the one who destroyed an entire classroom?" said the one on the right gleefully, pointing one of his raised hands at him.

"And walked away without a scratch!" said the one on the left. Loki’s eyes kept bouncing from one to the other as the twins spoke in unison as if they were one person. 

"What are you? An illusion?" he asked quickly. They chuckled mischievously to themselves.

"No, we're identical," they said together in perfect stereo. Loki blinked his eyes several times and shook his head. They grinned at each other.

“And Ronald said he was mental,” the right whispered to the left, doubtfully.

"Reckon he still might be," the left said to the right, eying him suspiciously as if he had plans for the Trickster.

"Ronald? As in that flame haired buffoon?" Loki questioned, somewhat lowering his hands. The only other ginger he had encountered belonged to the trio of scamps. There was no denying a family resemblance. The twins chuckled.

“That’s the one,” they said in unison again.

"Ron’s our younger brother," one of them said separately. 

“In your Defense Against the Dark Arts class,” said the other, completely his twin’s sentence. If Loki closed his eyes, he could have sworn he was talking to one person, but he dared not, for fear he might lose his mind.

Opening his palms towards each of them, Loki questioned, "And … you two are?"  

Fred extended his right hand. "Oh, I'm Fred!"  

George, shaking Loki's left hand, added, "I'm George." Loki involuntarily shook their hands, his wide emerald eyes darting from one to the other. Perhaps he did hit the wall too hard, he wondered. The identical ginger brothers released him.

"You must be Mr. Laufeyson,” said George. 

“Yeah, and from what we hear, you've got a twin of your own," said Fred mischievously. Loki glanced at the locked door to the classroom containing the condescending bully, before pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Old Severus Snape himself," said George. Loki did not want to know how many people made that quick connection.

“Comparing me to that drawl, big nosed dunce … It’s absurd,” Loki hissed angrily to himself, nearly forgetting his main mission.

"But just between us, you are far more interesting," whispered Fred. 

“Well anyone is more interesting than that brooding old git,” argued George. 

"Yeah, but it's not everyday that a man can destroy the school and live! And get away with it!" retorted Fred. Loki scrunched his face and kept his eyes shut tight behind his hand still pinching his nose, attempting to drown out their noise. Now they sounded like one lunatic arguing with themselves.

Loki dropped his hand from his face.

"Ok, ok, stop stop stop … Severus? .... What do you know about him?" he probed, refocusing on one topic.

"He's the potions master at this school," said Fred.

"He's not really liked, except by the Slytherins of course," said George. Loki was not particularly fond of those words in that sentence, especially since he didn't recognize one of them.

"Slytherins?" asked Loki.

"Yeah, he's the head of Slytherin in fact ... look," said Fred pointing to an emblem on his robes. It depicted the lion in red and yellow he had seen some of the students wear, including the infamous trio. Loki recalled the sigil on the dead boy’s robes, but it didn't match theirs.

"We belong to Gryffindor house," he continued, "There are four of them that make up this school."

"Ravenclaw," said George.

"Hufflepuff," said Fred.

"Gryffindor," said George.

"And Slytherin" they said together. Loki felt the need to sit down. A past memory of mischief bubbled to the surface when he pranked his brother with several duplications of himself.

"God now I know why Thor found that so annoying," he mumbled to himself. The twins exchanged confused looks.

"Who?" they asked in duet.

"No one, nevermind ... then why is he teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts?" asked Loki.

"He shouldn't be ... unless Professor Lupin was ill or preoccupied, but then, shouldn't you be teaching the class?" one of the twins said. Loki glared at the locked door once more. The Trickster couldn't shake the feeling that something more was afoot at Hogwarts.

"Indeed ... " Loki pondered.

Chapter Text

The Marauder’s Map

A dream, a memory, and a book of runes toiled an unsavory soup in Harry’s mind, not to mention the activities of the Defensive Against the Dark Arts class. This year was definitely on its way to being anything but normal. Silent was the dormitory. A room of shadows. While those around him slumbered, Harry laid awake, unable to sleep. Hermione had long departed to the girls’ dormitory after they had conversed over the newest staff member for what felt like the millionth time. Now Ron snored away in the bed next to him. With very few options available, Harry took out the Marauder's Map, a wonderful gift bestowed upon him by the Wesley twins and woven together by none other than his father and friends. He could always rely on it, ironic given its mantra, for the map never lied.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he whispered pointing his wand at the map. The crooked corridors and serpentine passageways of Hogwarts radiated across the parchment. Several inky footprints magically marked with their appropriately assigned names moved throughout the page. Harry spread the parchment out farther when a particular pair of tiny footprints caught Harry's eye. Mr. Laufeyson's name floated next to it, along with a first name. Harry caught his own breath when he recognized it from Hermione’s book. 

It read ‘Loki .’ 

Harry could not pass up the opportunity and thought perhaps he was meant to follow it, so he dashed out of bed with the map in hand and left the Gryffindor common room under his invisibility cloak. The map led him down a dark corridor of the castle towards the room of requirement. With map in hand, and wand aglow, he followed the name.

The names "Harry Potter" and "Loki Laufeyson" drew closer and closer. Harry swished his wand about searching in vain, his heart beating fast. Harry squinted toward the end of the corridor, then down at the map. Only seconds away... Wand trembling in his hand, Harry glanced from the map to find the tall, pitch black haired assistant at the end of the corridor. He covered his mouth in his sleeve to mask his breathing. Harry could see the large orange font stamped across his back. He couldn’t make out what Mr. Laufeyson was doing so he tiptoed closer to get a better look. 

Loki traced his hand across the stone wall, searching for an entry point. A green aura glowed from his hand, pouring into its cracks like a wicked creamy smoke.

“Come on … “ he muttered underneath his breath as he gripped the stone in both hands, almost as if he was attempting to pry open the wall, but it didn’t budge. Harry furrowed his brows while his heart rate waned. For someone who could perform magic without a wand, he didn’t seem to know how the room worked. Loki took two steps back when his first attempt failed. The green aura returned to his hands only in a more solid form, like two bright green spheres. Loki threw one hand out and fired a small green blast at the wall, to no result. Harry’s eyes grew wide, wondering if he should intervene. Loki threw another sphere, and another, blasting the wall with zipping green orbs. Harry was stunned he didn’t wake anyone, including some of the portraits. The wall remained intact, refusing to bend to his wishes with neither damage nor a door.

“Oh come on!” Loki hissed. He took a more defensive stance, both hands aglow, ready for an all out attack when he heard a small noise towards the left connecting corridor. It didn’t sound like a natural or magical sort of noise. Since he had lived most of his life in the muggle world, Harry could have sworn it sounded almost digital. The Trickster paused. Harry held his breath. A strange man in work clothes with salt and pepper hair and a mustache to match entered from the left. To Harry, he looked like he just came from a muggle’s office, or the Ministry of Magic.

“Loki!” the man scolded as quietly as he could. Harry gasped, slowly removing his sleeve from his face. The strange man not only looked out of place, but sounded out of place. 

“What?” whispered Harry, thoroughly confused and curious. Loki kept his hands lit for the sake of light. The Trickster whipped his head around to make sure they were alone, even the snoring portraits concerned him.

“Mobius?! What are you doing here??” he hissed.

“Making sure you don’t destroy anything else,” said Mobius as quietly as he could. Loki rolled his eyes.

“Mobius?” mouthed Harry. It was a very peculiar name. Harry had never heard it before, wizarding or muggle. Harry checked his map under the protection of his invisibility cloak. Next to Loki Laufeyson, he saw the name Mobius M. Mobius. He thought for sure it had to be fake along with Loki, but the map never lied.

“This is the place, Mobius!” Loki whispered excitedly while gesturing to the wall with a glowing hand. The agent quickly glanced very skeptically from the wall to his Asgardian counterpart with one hand on his hip.

“What am I looking at?” asked Mobius with a mature voice filled with doubt. Another sound put them all on guard. 

“What was that?” asked the agent, scanning the black abysses of the corridors. The Asgardian doused both of his light sources, snatched Mobius by the wrist, blending them both into the shadows. Another digital noise rippled in the darkness. Harry stood very still, only keeping his lit wand up for visibility underneath the invisibility cloak.

Suddenly, he felt a tug on the magical fabric from behind. Someone slipped it off, revealing Harry completely. Harry spun around, wand raised. Mr. Laufeyson stood before him, holding the cloak with a satisfied grin and curious eyes. Loki looked down upon him with catlike confidence, very different from the goof attempting to break into one of Hogwarts’ most mysterious rooms. Harry inhaled sharply.

"How the -" breathed Harry. He spun half way around and back from where Mr. Laufeyson and the strange man once stood, to where he was now alone. No one could apparate inside the school.

"Hmm, there's not many people who can sneak up on me," said Loki slyly. Harry swallowed hard, perhaps he was not meant to leave his dormitory this late at night he thought.

"Impressive garment, for what purpose I wonder," said Mr. Laufeyson as he casually examined it while verbally toying with Harry, a talented predator for sure playing with his caught food. Loki watched as his hands disappeared behind it. Harry didn't realize how hard he was breathing.

"How did ... how did you-"

"How did I ... what?" asked Loki confidently. Harry and Loki heard the noise again. Harry's eyes darted to his map. Mobius M. Mobius was completely gone, replaced by a new pair of approaching footprints, ones that he really did not wish to see.

"Mischief managed," said Harry quickly closing it up.

"Nox!" he said, eliminating his small light, and stashing the map, only to turn to the harsh glare of Snape's wand.

"Potter," said Snape harshly. Spooked, Severus realized that Harry was not alone and glared at Lupin’s assistant. Loki merely returned the glare with another devious smile.

"Well well, Mr. Laufeyson ... how we feeling?" taunting him from their last encounter.

"Exceptional," said Loki charmingly, disarming Snape's condescension. Harry noticed that his invisibility cloak was nowhere to be seen. Harry tried not to panic.

"Potter," continued Snape, "What're you doing wandering the corridors at night?" Harry struggled to come up with some excuse seeing as he was now caught twice, when Mr. Laufeyson answered for him at record speed.

"I was just escorting him back to his dormitory," Loki liked smoothly. Snape glared at him carefully.

"Is. That. So," he said in his slow manner of speaking, doubting every word. His harsh wand still pointed at the both of them.

"Harry was helping me with some work after hours," said Loki calmly in a strangely charming manner. Snape narrowed his eyes without showing any emotion in the lower half of his face.

"Oh really, and what work might that be?" questioned Snape.

"Work Professor Lupin had assigned me. He is … after all … the real Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," said Loki slyly. Harry backed up closer to him for fear Snape might implode. It almost seemed like Mr. Laufeyson wanted Snape to stun him again. The unfavorable potions master encroached.

"You … are exceeding ... arrogant," said Snape fiercely, pointing his wand at him. The God of Mischief had just about enough of these wizards and their precious need for magical sticks. Loki waited patiently, like the good predator that he was, allowing Snape to get closer before swiftly grabbing his wand, disarming Snape with a single hand movement, twisting it in his fingers before reversing it back in his face. Snape stepped back alarmed.

"God you are annoying, I will be taking Mr. Potter back to his dormitory. You know, do the job that I am supposed to do. And you will leave us, understand?" said Loki twirling the wand in his fingertips like a blade as to give it back to Severus. Hesitantly, Snape took it.

"Come Mr. Potter," said Loki, disappointed, leading Harry away from Severus and the Room of Requirement. 

Loki guided Harry, with a bit of the young wizard’s help, to the Gryffindor Common room. He still wasn’t quite acquainted yet with the inside of the school. Harry couldn’t help but make a few mistakes along the way, the thought of the disappearing man and the enraged potions master disturbed him, and he began questioning his own sanity. They both hesitated awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs before divulging from each other’s paths, plagued by questions regarding each of their late night activities.

“So, why were you sneaking about tonight?” Loki said, beginning the interrogation.

"I ... I wasn't sneaking," said Harry, attempting to lie again. Loki raised an eyebrow and summoned his invisibility cloak with both hands, fingers outstretched. It materialized in a flash of green and gold, similar to the aura previously in his hands.

"How did ..."

“I am not your stiff lipped Potions Master. If you’re going to lie, at least do better than that,” Mr. Laufeyson urged playfully. Harry let his mouth fall open a bit confused and stunned. He wanted to ask about the mysterious man and his rash intentions, but Dumbledore’s warning of anonymity grew stronger in the back of his head.

“You were leaving the … Library,” suggested Loki. Harry knitted his brows together.

“Studying for … “ Loki suggested again.

“For … transfiguration,” Harry answered hesitantly.

“When you … ”

“Got lost,” said Harry, finally comprehending the game. Loki looked down at the magical fabric in his hand.

“Now you’re getting it, not sure how you are going to explain this,” he said, tossing him the cloak of invisibility. Harry clumsily caught it.

“You’re … not confiscating it?” Harry asked.

“Should I?” Loki asked slyly as he crossed both arms, looking down at the poor pupil.

“I … I won’t be out late again, Sir … ” stuttered Harry.

“Hmm,” Loki hummed sarcastically, stealing another look at the cloak, “Next time I catch you, I expect a better story, or you can deal with Snape on your own,” he said sternly. Harry nodded, still a bit dazed and headed straight for the Gryffindor common room. Loki waited at the steps to make sure he actually entered the portrait door, and that it shut firmly behind him. Loki let out a large sigh of relief as soon as the youngster was gone.

From the shadows of an adjacent corridor, Mobius approached.

“That was close,” said the agent.

“You don’t say??” Loki snarked the obvious.

“You sure that was wise? We still have a killer on the loose,” the agent said, concerned more for the boy’s safety and poor decision making. 

“Well, if he’s up to no good, let's see what kind,” answered the professional Trickster, “Besides … ” Loki said as he summoned a piece of parchment to his hand, showing it to Mobius. “He had this in his possession. What do you suppose it is?” asked Loki. The TVA analyst took it with a look of slight judgment for Loki’s sticky fingers but no real surprise. Mobius opened it gently. For its many folds, the thick parchment held no information for him. Mobius shook his head. 

“It just looks like old paper to me,” he said.

“Did you hear what he said, right before he tried to hide it?” asked Loki.

“No.”

“Mischief managed .”

Mobius looked up from the blank parchment with raised eyebrows.

“He’s just a kid … You don’t think … ” Mobius hinted.

“No, no I don’t think so,” said Loki recalling his moment of kindness when Harry helped him up from the crushed floor, and when he asked for help setting the hippogriff free albeit with an unorthodox method, “but I don’t think discovering him tonight was a coincidence,” he concluded.

“Right … ” said Mobius. Another untethered strand of thought pulled uncomfortably at his mind. “How did you discover him?” he asked.

“Hmm?”

“How did you know he was there? I mean he was invisible,” said Mobius. Loki thought for a moment, allowing his thoughts to go so far back when a certain scarlet haired, black suited Avenger crept behind him without so much as a sound. However, ever since the TVA captured him, all of his powers and skills had been put on hold. Ever since he stepped foot in this world, he felt as if he was rediscovering them one by one. 

“Honestly … I’m not entirely sure, I just knew someone was there,” he answered as honestly as he possibly could.

Chapter Text

An Antidote to Fear

“I’m telling you, Hermione! He’s one of them!” said Harry.

“Harry, I don’t think that’s possible…” said Hermione.

“His name appeared on the Marauder’s Map!” exclaimed Harry.

“Maybe the map got it wrong?” suggested Ron.

“No, the map never lies… and there was another… a strange name I’ve never seen before,” said Harry. Ron and Hermione exchanged concerned looks for their friend.

Harry glanced around the Gryffindor common room to make sure not many were close enough to hear him. "Look," said Harry, leaning closer to his friends, "Dumbledore asked me to get to know him."

"Get to know him??" probed Ron.

"Shhh!" hushed Harry, "I don't know, but it must be important... otherwise, he wouldn’t’ve asked," he said in a softer tone. His friends didn’t seem convinced. Harry sighed. “Can I borrow your Ancient Runes book, Hermione?” he asked.

“After class. I’m sure there are copies in the library as well,” she said.

Loki wasn’t one to ask permission, nor ask for forgiveness, but he nearly got caught by a child and began to doubt his sleuthing skills. Renslayer would have a field day with that excuse to prune him, and Mobius would have to suffer long term consequences. He wanted to curse the TVA for him being out of practice. The Trickster politely knocked on the door to the Headmaster’s grand office. Ironically, he felt more comfortable knocking on it than Renslayer’s, probably because it was a magical playground and not an authoritarian cage.

“Headmaster?” he called out calmly. He might be the God of Mischief, but manners were the foundation of his charm. No one answered. Loki put his hand gently on the handle and pushed. It was unlocked.

“Professor Dumble-” he said as he slowly entered, “-dore,” he finished, starstruck for the second time by the majesty of the room, the endless ceiling, the bookshelves upon bookshelves, the gossipy portraits in golden frames, the spherical trinkets, the bobbling trophies, the glowing glass bottles, the rich wooden furniture, the fairy like structure of the closed cabinet, and the god rays beaming through the windows. Loki could have sworn that he was discovering new items the longer he gazed. He felt five hundred years younger each time he entered and could spend five hundred years more inquiring about every item.

He spotted the large, fiery red bird across Dumbledore’s desk. The phoenix cooed at him. Drawn to its bright colors and friendly nature, Loki calmly walked towards it with a child-like desire to stroke its flame-like plumage. He passed a bookshelf when a new voice scared him half to death.

“Curious, are we?” it said in a raspy, masculine tone.

“AH!” yelled the Trickster, immediately jumping back with his hands up and aglow. The phoenix cawed. An old, wrinkled wizard’s hat moved on one of the top bookshelves. Loki made out a face in its many wrapped layers of tan leather and one large rip across the brim that made its ‘mouth’ open, which disturbed him greatly. He didn’t see this oddity the first time he entered the office. The hat cackled.

“A skeptical mind I see,” the hat said. Loki’s chest heaved as he severely stared at the entity, still reeling from the jumpscare. His hands remained up and aglow.

“What are you? Who are you?” he demanded quickly.

“I am the Hogwarts Sorting Hat,” it said proudly. Loki lowered his hands a bit and inched closer to the talking item. 

“Sorting Hat? Are you possessed? Or are you … alive?” he asked. The old hat was far uglier than Miss Minutes by Loki’s standards but far more intriguing. At least he couldn’t float around, nagging him at every waking moment.

“Mmmm … I am as alive as our four founders made me,” it said. Loki lowered his hands completely.

“That doesn’t answer my question … ” said a calmer Loki.

“Then allow me to illuminate. *Ahem* Oh, you may not think I'm pretty, But don't judge on what you see, I'll eat myself if you can find A smarter hat than me ,” the hat began to sing. Loki cocked one eyebrow. “ You can keep your bowlers black, Your top hats sleek and tall, For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat And I can cap them all ,” it continued to sing. Loki put a flat hand up to stop it.

“Ok, that’s not necessary … ” he said politely at first, maybe he was no better than that cartoon clock. 

“ There's nothing hidden in your head The Sorting Hat can't see, so try me on and I will tell you, where you ought to be ,” the hat continued singing.

“I would prefer you didn’t,” Loki commanded, now more irritated, backing away from the animated headpiece. Loki didn’t want his mind read or assigned a role. The TVA already put too much stock in both those columns. Footsteps could be heard ascending the steps. The Trickster was actually relieved when someone cracked open the door. The hat pointed its top end at him as if it had its own wand. 

“Ah! Mr. Laufeyson. Dumbledore said you might be here,” said Professor Lupin, much kinder than their last encounter back in the hospital wing. His appearance was long overdue and much paler. He half smiled, amused by the back and forth interaction between Loki and the magical hat.

“Mobiu- Lupin! How do you turn this off??” the Trickster pleaded.

“Mmmm, very skeptical mind indeed, yes … not much loyalty or bravery I’m afraid … lots of running away … ” the Hat continued as he violated Loki’s boundaries. 

“I beg your pardon!” the Trickster said clearly offended. Lupin chuckled. 

“Cunning! Very Cunning and clever … perhaps Ravenclaw or Slytherin is where you belong,” the Hat persisted. Loki twisted his fingers so a green light caught a loose thread near the hat’s ripped mouth. It slithered through the opened holes and sewed it shut. The Sorting Hat made a muffled sound before it could make up its mind. Lupin laughed a bit.

“Don’t be so cruel. That hat has been around since the school’s inception, it's just doing its job. Besides, we have more important matters,” Lupin said.

“Do we?” Loki asked, thoroughly confused, recalling the events of last night and his real mission with Mobius. What more important matters did he have with Lupin, and how did Dumbledore know he would be in his office without him being there, and where was he, and why was his office freely open, he wondered. Memories and different worlds were starting to blend together. 

Just as they left Dumbledore’s tower, the Sorting Hat managed to unzip his mouth and called out, “SLYTHERIN!” 

The Trickster grew suspicious when Lupin passed by the Defense Against the Dark Arts Class and headed towards the school grounds.

"Where are we going?" asked Loki.

"You'll see," said Lupin. They journeyed onward towards the edge of the forbidden forest. Loki followed behind, when he noticed Lupin’s pace and movements had decreased, and Loki nearly passed him a few times.

“You sure you know where we are going?” he questioned.

“I’m sure,” Lupin said confidently, yet with a hint of exhaustion. The further they got from the school, the thicker the grass, the taller the trees, and the darker the environment became.

"Why does it feel like every professor here takes me to a killing-me-kind of a place?" noted Loki. Lupin laughed.

"Well I don't blame you for thinking that, Hogwarts was founded about a millennium ago by four of the greatest witches and wizards of the age as a place for learning and refuge. I’m sure they added things to the school that are still yet to be discovered. Not to mention the land possesses its own history. We are nearing the edge of the forbidden forest now ... all manner of creatures live in there," said Lupin. Only a millennium, Loki thought. He was only slightly older than the school and he felt it had more secrets and witnessed more trials and tribulations than he ever had.

"Right, because that’s comforting ... By the way, where were you last class?" asked Loki.

"Oh ... I had a previous engagement," said Lupin. Dark circles under his eyes and freshly new marks on his face suggested something stressful.

"With a monster maybe," said Loki. He chuckled awkwardly.

"I heard you encountered your own kind of monster while I was away," said Lupin, changing the subject. Loki dropped his smarm.

"I’ll have you know, Snape wouldn’t stand a chance if he hadn't locked the door … coward," Loki said passive aggressively. Lupin stopped walking. 

"Ok, why are we really here?" he asked suspiciously. They landed at a relatively open field with a few large boulders and a rumbling chest at the center. Loki recognized all too quickly what was inside.

"Wait ... No ... no no no ... I am not doing that again," said Loki bracing himself defensively.

"You want to stand a chance Mr. Laufeyson? Then prove to me that you can handle this," he said pointing to the rumbling box. Lupin rested himself on a nearby boulder.

"Now, I’m not going to pretend to understand what that giant green monster is, but know this ... this is a boggart, not the real thing," said Lupin. Loki believed that the damage to the school would argue otherwise.

"Right then, wand at the ready," said Lupin. Loki laughed sarcastically.

"Wand?" he asked.

"Yes, wand," said Lupin sternly as a matter of fact.

Loki rolled his eyes and conjured a fake wand in his fingers with a flash of gold and green. Lupin's face went from frowned to stunned.

“Alright … Now then, repeat after me 'Riddikulus.'" said the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Loki felt silly.

"Absolutely not," he said begrudgingly. Lupin furrowed his brow with as much seriousness as Loki’s tone.

“You want to face your fears, don’t you? Well the antidote for fear is courage … and you can find courage in laughter. If you can laugh at something, you have control over it. Loki rolled his emerald eyes once more, not able to handle Lupin’s cheesy words of wisdom. 

"Fine ... Riddikulus," said Loki in a flat tone.

"Remember, think of something funny. Ready?" asked Lupin. Loki nodded reluctantly. 

“One … Two … Three … ” said the Professor as he flicked his wand at the rumbling container. The trees seemed to grow taller closing in on the Trickster as the chest creaked open, releasing the swirling shadow mist that birthed his deepest fears. Loki's heart drummed in his chest, a primal rhythm of unease. A monstrous roar echoed. The green behemoth materialized, towering and furious in all of his green rage filled glory. Loki felt his knees weaken as the illusion took shape. His breath caught in his throat, his pulse quickening to match the frantic beats of his heart.

"Riddikulus!" commanded Lupin to Loki, but all he wanted to do was run, and yet he couldn’t, fear froze him in place. He couldn’t find the humor, only the pain and shame to come.

"Remember! Think of something funny!" yelled Lupin. As the fake Hulk charged, Loki could almost feel the ground shake beneath him. He raised his hands defensively, a futile attempt to ward off the impending doom. Lupin took control and jumped in front of it, putting his body between the boggart and the Trickster. 

“Here!” he called out. The monster stopped in its tracks and transformed back into a moon.

"Riddikulus!" said Lupin with a swish of his wand, changing it into a balloon that sailed back into the chest. Lupin weakly turned toward a very frightened Loki. He exhaled and inhaled heavily.

"Mr. Laufeyson? You alright?" Lupin asked, exasperated. 

Loki put his hands on his knees, catching his breath.

"Why is your ... boggart ... a damn moon?" he asked. Lupin paused.

"Why is yours a giant green monster? We all have our irrationalities," said Lupin kindly.

"Yes but ... mine can actually hurt me! Yours is ... is just a backdrop!" yelled Loki gesturing to the rumbling chest.

"Calm down Mr. Laufeyson," said Lupin. He didn’t have the energy to argue.

"I mean, I can't think of a more pathetic fear?! Unless it was going to crash into this planet!"

"Mr. Laufeyson."

"But that depiction of it was beautiful, peaceful even!"

"Mr. Laufeyson!"

"Why do I get a violent monster, but you get a peaceful night?!

"Because I'm a werewolf!" bellowed Lupin, not believing the words that left his lips. Lupin grew grave, serious, and quiet. The weary professor backed up to rest on the boulder once more, running his fingers through his hair anxiously.

"What?" Loki breathed, completely dumbfounded by the unexpected answer. His voice cracked a bit like that of a disturbed child. Lupin needed a moment before speaking, his condition taking its toll. He rarely just blurted out his condition, few people knew of it and he intended to keep it that way.

"I don't know what you have done in your past to have your demons clearly want to hurt you, but believe me, that peaceful night is never peaceful. The monster that tosses you around without a second thought ... that's me, only I don't know that that is me when it happens, and I have no control over it," sand Lupin. Loki remained still with an expressionless face, only his gradually decreasing gasps for air could be heard. Snape's sudden lecture on the half man half wolf beasts made more sense now.

"I could hurt people, and never know," said Lupin gravely. Loki realized the fresh wounds on his face were indeed claw marks after all. "And do not mistake my condition as power, it is a disease, a curse." Loki blinked innocently. A thin thought danced on the surface area of his mind. He wondered if the man beneath the scary strong, green muscles thought the same way. Lupin sighed and carefully got up from the rock. "There are few people at this school who know about my condition, and I would like to keep it that way ... can we do that?" asked Lupin. A new found wave of admiration formed for the weary professor as Lupin passed him the metaphorical torch of trust. 

“Yes,” said Loki with a peaceful nod.

"That being said ... we are going to try that again ... " he said quietly, returning to the rumbling chest. Loki nodded in surrender.

"Remember, 'Riddikulus,' ... and think of something ... funny," said Lupin with far less enthusiasm. He released the boggart from the chest once more. Loki readied himself. The boggart emerged and transformed again into the hulking green monster. Panic ensued.

"Funny! Think of something funny! Believe in yourself!" yelled Lupin, losing his patience and energy. Loki focused. He pulled off pranks all the time, albeit more for his amusement than for others. He was Loki after all, God of Mischief!

"Riddikulus!" he yelled flicking his fake wand. A green smoke-like aura shot from it. The spell consumed the Hulk in a cloud of green smoke, dissipating into a bunch of green garden snakes. Loki gasped happily. A memory of when he tricked his brother and several of his friends with those slithering creatures made him laugh. Lupin raised an eyebrow and curled the side of his mouth up in confusion. He didn't understand the joke, but to Loki, it was funny.

"Ok ... well ... I must say that that is at least ... an improvement," noted Lupin, not sure what to think.

Chapter Text

The Duality of Nature

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

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

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

“Harmonia Nectere Passus” he whispered again.

“Harmo-” he said, stopping half way.

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

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

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

Click. 

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

“The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life’s joy in a mad scramble for power … ”

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

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

“There,” he said to himself.

Loki:

Associated with the Hagalaz, Dagaz, and Kenaz Runes

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

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

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

“Yes, Sir,” he said firmly. Snape caught a glimpse of the book’s title.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Sir," said Harry. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What am I?" he snarled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"TELL ME!" he screeched.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry wanted to reach out to him.

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

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

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

"Guards!" called Mr. Laufeyson. 

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

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

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

Chapter Text

The Ministry

Loki lurked in a stone corner of one of the large pillars of Hogwarts walls near the great hall. It was morning, and the students were gathering in the great hall. Loki wasn’t really trying to remain out of sight, he just wanted to observe people without being bothered. Most of the students were too preoccupied with their own social endeavors to notice him, or they mistook him for Professor Snape which he rewarded with an unpleasant glare and they avoided him all together. He didn’t see anyone acting too unusually, so he summoned the piece of paper he secretly confiscated from Harry behind his back and unfolded it. The folded parchment appeared blank with a bit of durable weight to it. Loki spread his fingertips just over the surface, allowing a plume of his green magic to examine it. At first, nothing happened, then a message appeared in a transition of carefully placed spilled ink.

“Messers, Moody, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs are proud to present … the Marauder’s Map.”

Excited curiosity widened Loki’s eyes. Before he explored further, a few familiar voices caught his attention.

“Did you see Harry this morning?” asked Hermione. Loki looked up from the parchment, tucking it into his jacket before anyone could see.

“No actually … maybe he’s already in the Great Hall,” said Ron. The Trickster waited a beat before casually following behind them.

Harry sat alone at the Gryffindor table as more and more students poured into the large dining hall. His eyes appeared fixed on a plate of breakfast provided by the magical table, but really he was staring off into nothingness, still reeling from the memory Dumbledore showed him the day before, a mutual feeling he seemed to share with the Laufeyson of the past. He hardly noticed when Ron and Hermione sat across from him. 

“Up a bit early today are we?” Ron joked. His best friend looked weary and pale. Tell tale signs of poor sleep or lack thereof. 

“Did you find what you were looking for, Harry?” Hermione asked when he didn’t respond or acknowledge their presence. Ron shifted his gaze when he saw a very distinct, bleach blonde student take a seat at the green and black Slytherin table adjacent theirs. The redhead frowned with concern when he saw the almost exact same shell shocked look on Malfoy’s face as Harry wore on his.

"Hey, you alright mate?" asked Ron. He was about to ask him if he had a run in with the malicious Malfoy, when the unexpected came and sat next to him. "Oh bloody hell," Ron cursed underneath his breath. Only then did Harry look up to find the last person he wanted to see at that moment. He practically jolted up from his seat when Loki planted himself across from him, next to Ron. The redhead noticed Malfoy at the Slytherin table react with a similar look of horror as he stared intensely at Lupin’s assistant. It took Crab and Goyle a few tries to get his attention. Hermione was too stunted by a teacher sitting at a place for students to notice Ron’s eyeline of interest. 

"Oy! Aren't you supposed to be sitting up there," squeaked Ron, pointing to the main table where all the teachers sat. Loki looked in the direction he was pointing, a long table perpendicular to the dining tables overseeing the students. The table for professors resembled a row of simple thrones to him, each seat assigned to its master or rather each master assigned to a seat, distant from everyone else with only the persons to the left and right for conversation. A restrictive setting for an agent of chaos.

"Does it matter? And besides, I need to ask Harry something," said Loki. An audible glump came from the lightning bolted Gryffindor.

"No need to look so glum. I may resemble your least favorite professor, but you can't deny I am far better looking," joked Loki charmingly. Ron rolled his eyes so heavily he could have gagged. Harry said nothing, he just kept looking at the Trickster without a single blink. The memory Dumbledore had shared painted a different perspective in his mind. He kept comparing the Laufeyson of then to the one now, both of which had a need. Loki raised an eyebrow in concern at the young deer caught in his light.

"Hello?" said Loki waving a hand in front of Harry's face, causing his eyelids to flutter. He was thankful when the twins interrupted.

"Hey," they both said, squeezing in on both sides of Loki.

"Oy! Watch it, you toss pots!" complained Ron as one of them pushed him further down the table.

“Boys … “ whispered Hermione, shaking her head slightly in disapproval.

"What are you doing here?" George asked Mr. Laufeyson, repeating the same question as his younger brother.

"You should be up there, silly," said Fred pointing to the main table. Loki gave it a second look to find it filling up. A toad-like woman dressed in a disgusting shade of light pink took a chair next to an empty seat where he assumed he should be. Lupin sat just on the other side of it, which gave him a moment to pause, until he spotted Snape not too far off.

"I think not," squinting his eyes in judgment.

"That's Dolores Umbridge," remarked George, surprised to see the woman in pink.

“Who?” asked the Trickster.

"She works for the ministry," added Fred.

"The ministry?" questioned Hermione. She seemed pretty worried.

"Dunno, but whatever it is, it can't be good," said Ron. The Great Hall settled in silence once the headmaster spoke.

"Good evening, children. You have all been summoned for we have a new staff member. Please welcome Dolores Umbridge, who will be responsible for your OWLs this year. And I'm sure you'll all join me in wishing the professor good luck. Now, as usual, our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you... " began Professor Dumbledore, only to be rudely interrupted by a strange, high pitch giggle coming from their newest member, the pink woman. Loki curled the side of his upper lip towards his nose in disgust. Her grossly exaggerated, sweet demeanor matched her outfit. Loki knew a liar when he saw one. She stood up from her makeshift throne to speak.

"Thank you, headmaster, for those kind words of welcome. And how lovely to see all your bright... happy faces smiling up at me," she started in a grossly sweet voice that could rot anyone’s teeth. Loki needed a drink, a real drink, but settled for the nearest cup and took a swig.

"I'm sure we're all going to be very good friends," she continued.

"That's likely," said the twins, echoing Loki’s sarcastic thoughts in stereo.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered... the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. Although each headmaster... has brought something new to this historic school... progress for the sake of progress must be discouraged. Let us preserve what must be preserved... perfect what can be perfected... and prune practices that ought to be prohibited," she finished followed by a hideous smile and another grossly sweet giggle. Loki took another swig from his cup, finishing the drink. He thumped it on the table. She sounded like someone from the TVA, and wondered if Renslayer had sent her disguised as someone else, but he had never seen or heard of her before until now, and no one in their right mind would ever wear something so … pink. 

"Charming woman …" he said sarcastically. Fred and George chuckled next to him.

"Thank you, Professor Umbridge. That really was most illuminating," said Dumbledore.

"Illuminating? What a load of waffle," said Ron with the same level of suspicion and disgust as Loki and his twin brothers.

"What's it mean?" asked Harry, finally speaking.

"It means the Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts," noted Hermione sadly. Loki didn’t like her choice of words. 

“And why would they interfere with a school?” he asked her delicately. She sighed and peered over her shoulder at the Slytherin table before answering, then leaned further into the group.

“Draco’s father works for the Ministry … they could still be searching for Buckbeak … ”she suggested in a quieter tone. Loki clenched his empty cup, recalling the magnificent beast. He had a hard time believing one person could be that petty, then again, he had done worse for far less …

“Or?” he probed. Hermione hesitated, unsure whether to divulge more information.

“You don’t think?” Ron began. Loki shifted his gaze from Hermione to the younger redhead, waiting. 

“Think what?” he dared ask. The young witch sighed, awkwardly feeling like her hand had been forced.

“A student went missing not too long ago … ” said Hermione. Loki’s sense of hearing perked up sharply, and subconsciously, he put on his best poker face.

“You’re not referring to Cedric?” asked George.

“Shhhh!” she commanded. Loki kept very calm. He didn’t so much as move a muscle or twitch a nerve in his face, only his eyes darted from speaker to speaker.

“Have you seen him in any of your classes?” Harry challenged George quietly. Fred and George were older than the rest of them. Cedric would have appeared at least where they went from time to time. George glanced towards his twin sitting on the other side of Loki.

“No … now that you mention it,” Fred answered for the both of them.

“He could have gone home for all we know,” added George. Harry couldn’t help but conjure up the muddled dream in his head, casting some doubt on the matter. Loki, on the other hand, had a most unfortunate, crystal clear memory of the young lad on the slab.

“Why would the Ministry be interested in a single student?” the Trickster asked as casually as he could. 

“They wouldn’t. They just need an excuse to deem the school unfit. The Minister has been trying to silence Dumbledore since … “ said Ron but trailed off. Loki waited patiently again for an answer, glancing around at each student. They grew grim at Ron’s unfinished thought, except for Harry who spoke up.

“Since Voldemort,” said Harry. Loki raised his eyebrows pretending to know what he was talking about, and then the giant clock just outside the Great Hall chimed, and the headmaster dismissed the students for their classes. Loki noticed that most of them got up in a hurry, almost fleeing from the strange name. He managed to catch Harry on the tail end of the group, the only one who didn’t seem to immediately run away.

“Harry,” said Loki. The young wizard turned around, nearly forgetting that Mr. Laufeyson had sat with them for a reason.

“See me after class, I still have that question to ask,” he noted. Harry nodded and picked up his pace to follow his friends out of the main hall.

Chapter Text

We're All Tricksters Here

A jetski magazine rested next to a mess of papers or what little research was available on the Diggory case, watching Mobius work, waiting for him to take a break. The analyst thumbed through the small stack again, searching for answers.  A basic history of the school, its founders, its studies didn’t lead to much. The fact that the TVA had limited resources on the matter bothered him greatly. Mobius had underlined and highlighted the room of requirement, and chicken scratched notes on the sides.  A magical anomaly the paper said, not even a part of its original architecture, adapts to the user's needs, a perfect place to hide a murder or just to plain hide. On top of that, if the room really tailored itself to each individual person, the inside could be anything. Mobius wondered what else flew under the radar at this school and why the TVA missed it. 

Additionally, he had no answers for the parchment Loki confiscated, so he let him keep it. It appeared blank as far as he was concerned. He didn’t even report it. The only saving grace he could rely on for the case was Loki’s memory reel, so he put down the paperwork, tucked away his lonely jetski magazine and headed off to the archives. 

“Back again, I see,” said the judgemental secretary.

“Yes,” said Mobius, not wanting to argue with her, “I need Loki’s holoprojector.”

“Which Loki?” she asked apathetically. The scruffy analyst glared at her.

“Which Loki? I was just here!” he said annoyed, realizing he was arguing with her. She gave him an apathetic slow blink with zero expression in the lower half of her face. The task stagnated just at her fingertips if she wasn’t so textbook. Mobius sighed.

“Variant L1130,” he answered reluctantly. Finally, she clicked away at the computer. The screen lit up her haggard face. She didn’t even grace him with a glance.

“Sorry, looks like it's already been checked out,” she answered in a lackadaisical tone. Mobius almost thought she was joking if not for the secretary’s entire lack of humor.

“Checked out? By who?” he demanded.

Loki exited the Great Hall, its soaring ceiling mimicking the sky outside while the smell of food dissipated from the enchanted four long house tables. The Trickster resumed his post in the corner column of the castle’s structure, weathered by centuries, before class resumed and pulled out the mysterious parchment from his jacket pocket casually. Most of the students had left besides a few and the parchment didn’t stand out as anything extraordinary to anyone else, except for the tall redheaded twins lingering in the corridor. George tapped his brother on the shoulder when he noticed Mr. Laufeyson examining the item alone.

“Oh no … “ muttered Fred.

“He has an invisibility cloak … how did he get caught?” whispered George to his identical brother.

Everyone else had gone, so Loki could not help but overhear them.

“Something wrong?” he asked the two.

“Oh … umm,” stuttered Fred as he mistakenly glanced at the paper in his hands. The flicker of eye movement and uneasy body language didn’t go unnoticed by the professional Trickster. 

“We can throw that away for you … if you like,” George offered.

“The rubbish bins can be hard to find,” Fred quickly lied. He reached out for the parchment, but the gesture didn’t feel genuine. Loki recoiled it just out of his grasp, eying them suspiciously.

“Rubbish? You sure?” he asked curiously and decided to take a calculated risk. Loki tapped the front of the folded paper with a magical aura, then turned the front of the parchment around to reveal the impromptu title. The twins dropped the act.

“Damnit … ” breathed Fred.

“And to think we had faith in him … so I reckon no one’s getting that back?” George asked sheepishly. Loki assumed they were referring to Harry. His inner monologue questioned just how special the parchment was if they knew about it too.

“Depends … why do you want it so badly?” asked the Trickster. The twins gave each other a confused look.

“You mean … you don’t know what it is?” asked Fred curiously. Loki crossed his arms with the parchment still in one hand.

“Clearly a map of some kind, but a blank one at that,” he answered. Fred gave his brother a careful glance before they both crossed their arms, unconsciously mimicking Loki’s body language. A sly expression danced across both identical faces. Fred and George normally wouldn’t be so chummy with a teacher, but this one, they liked.

“We could tell you,” said George.

“But we’d like something in return,” Fred chimed.

Loki would normally welcome such mischief, but time was not on his side and trust was not his forte, besides the dynamic duo be a variant disguised as two people. He wouldn’t put it past a Loki to be that clever under the circumstances. Jealousy almost got the better of him at the idea, so he responded instead with a mild grin, secretly filled to the brim with confidence. Someone tapped one of the twins on the shoulder. George turned to look, only to nearly jump out of his skin when he saw Mr. Laufeyson standing behind him with the same grin. 

“I’m not sure you know how this works,” he said confidently. George whipped his head back around to find the same teacher in the same spot and clothes and expression. Fred looked towards his brother concerned when someone else tapped him on his shoulder. Fred turned to find another Mr. Laufeyson and startled just the same.

“You tell me what it is,” said Fred’s Loki.

“And I don’t report you,” said George’s Loki, testing them. If his hunch was right, he would do more than that. Two Weasleys, Three Lokis. The twins backed up close to each other bewildered.

“Now then, what say you?” said the original Loki, the only one holding the map.

“That!” exclaimed both twins in stereo, pointing to each of their assigned Lokis. The Trickster dropped his confident grin and smarm.

“What?” he breathed, confused. His trick failed to elicit the correct response. Fred and George looked at his illusions in amazement rather than fear.

“How’d you do that?” asked Fred, showing his youthful age.

“You teaching that in class??” asked George with the same level of giddiness. Loki let his arms fall to his sides, his guard dropping just a smidge.

“You two … “ he said, pointing to both of them quite skeptically, his finger bouncing from one identical twin to the other, “You can’t do that?” he added, letting the same finger land on each of his illusions who wore skeptical faces just as he did. 

“No,” they said in stereo. Their in sync language cast some heavy doubt Loki’s way.

“We’ve never seen anything like it,” said George.

“Can you imagine the pranks we could pull!” Fred said to his brother. 

“Mum would have a heart attack,” said George to Fred playfully. They nearly forgot about Lupin’s assistant. Stunned, Loki relaxed his face, completely letting his guard go. They actually enjoyed his talents. He felt as if he was actually seeing them individually for the first time as curious students. With a subtle wave of his free hand, his illusions faded. Both twins gasped as they vanished.

“Are you two tricksters?” Loki asked out right with a hint of glee. Their excitement infected him.

“Something of the sort,” Fred grinned proudly.

“We own a joke shop on Diagon alley. We’ll tell you about the map,” noted George.

“If you teach us how to that!” said Fred grinning from ear to ear. Loki shifted his eyes from one twin to the next before sticking the map back into his jacket pocket. Carefully he stepped towards them. The real Trickster put out a hand for a friendly gesture. 

“Deal,” he said smoothly. To not his surprise, both twins shook it in a goofy three way handshake. 

“You won’t regret it,” said Fred happily.

“During a free period then yeah?” George said eagerly.

“Right … “ said Loki, looking down at their oddly connected hands, unsure of what he got himself into.