See chapter one for warnings and summaries.
PREVIOUSLY: Loki decides to hide on Midguard, in Hogwarts, with his children. On the way of putting together the necessary provisions, Loki spies little Harry Potter getting ready for his first semester and kills DADA Professor Quirrell, by accident. He then takes Quirrell's place under the guise of Lori Aldricson, a female DADA professor. The children are then sorted at the welcoming feast. Hela argues with the hat to be place in Slytherin, but is sorted into Ravenclaw instead, Seth goes to Hufflepuff, Joren to Slytherin and Fenrir to Gryffindor. The four heads of house muse over what kind of stories they'll have to tell each other before the week is over.
The for godling children have their first encounter with their fellow students-in close range.
NOTE: Luna is a second-year, for this fic.
When Hela takes her seat at the Ravenclaw table, the whispers start up and then, a certain, white-haired blonde plopped into the seat beside her. There are a host of rare, mythical creatures floating absently about the young witch's head, more in the spirit world than the real one.
Hela blinked at the mortal female. That was rare. Most mortals did not attract the attention of spirits hovering between realms. She wondered, briefly, if the girl was aware of it. She was also doubly grateful again, for the mask that she wore. It seems that perhaps she was not as prepared for mingling in the mortal world as she had hoped.
Perhaps it will ease with time.
"I'm Luna Lovegood." Luna props up her head on her hands, expressive face staring openly at Hela. The foggy, absent-minded look fades away to something that is vivid and intense within those rich grey eyes. "Let's be friends, shan't we?"
For a moment, Hela, Queen of all that she is, cannot say a word. This is so new and strange, she does not know how to handle it. But she feels a light nudge in the back of her mind and draws strength from the mental touch of her mother.
"Hela." She says softly. "Yes, let's."
Luna beams at her, a pure, white light glowing so bright that Hela has to blink. She realizes that she is the only one to see and notice it, because no one else appears to be affected by the sudden increase in light.
"Maybe you can stay in my room." Luna continues, cheerfully. "I don't snore or anything. It's a very nice room."
There is a snort from somewhere down the table and a tall, willowy Ravenclaw is rolling her eyes at the platinum blonde. "That's because it's probably the only thing you can't do." She eyes Hela with a look of curiousness. "Then again, you two are probably odd enough to work with each other." She sniffs. "As long as I don't have to share."
"Ignore her, please." These words come from a pretty Ravenclaw, a touch older than the rest with a notion of wisdom in her soft eyes. "I'm Penelope Clearwater. You can call me, Penny. We don't argue over rooming arrangements, but if you do want to stay with Luna, I don't think anyone will mind."
"That's because no one can stand be around her longer than-"
"That's enough, Delia." Penny's voice is firm. Ravenclaw works on a special system of inner house authority. She is a third-year student and that is more than enough to give her the authority needed to keep her fellow ravens in line. She is willing to give this new, strange girl the benefit of the doubt, if the hat sorted her to Ravenclaw, then there must be something brilliant inside.
Hela makes herself smile, even though the expression can't be seen from beneath her mask and turns her attention to the food. She will not truly be able to eat anything, but magic is magic and she knows she can pretend well enough.
Fenrir takes a seat across from little Harry Potter and beside the bushy-haired girl. They are all staring at him with a mixture of surprise and awe.
"You can sit up here with the second-years, Aldricson." A taller redhead, with a prefects badge waves him on. "Firsties, listen up. I am Percy Weasley and I am your-"
"Yeah, yeah, stuff it all, Percival!" Two mischievous redheads hoot and call. "They don't need to know all that you're carrying on about."
"Is it important?" Fenrir is confused. He looks down at bright, emerald eyes and finds himself realizing just why his sister may have taken a liking to the mortal. This little waif by the name of Harry Potter has eyes so green that they remind the wolf of his mother and he wishes now that they had family quarters. He is definitely not looking forward to spending less time with his family, now that they are all within reach. He has missed his father and he has never had the chance to get to know his siblings.
Somehow, this all seems unfair.
"Of course it's important!" The bushy-haired witch informs him, somewhat bossily, her head of curls quivering with the sideways tilt of her head. "Prefects are supposed to help us settle in as students and make sense of all the rules and help us with things like our timetables." She wrinkles her button nose. "You should know that."
"Oh." Fenrir finds himself unable to keep from smiling at her. He knows his smile has too much teeth. Maybe she won't be too scared though, he hopes. "Thank you." It doesn't matter whether he ought to know it and doesn't or shouldn't know it and does. He will sort those kinds of things out later, for now, he thinks, he is hungry.
The girl blinks at him for a moment and then her cheeks turn an alarming shade of red before she looks down at her plate. "You're welcome." She mumbles a few seconds later.
A pretty, dark-haired girl stares at him a beat later, her jaw half-open in something that might be shock. She hastily looks away when he dares to meet her gaze.
Fenrir wonders about it for all of a half-second, before his attention returns to the curly-headed girl. "Fenrir." He offers, after a moment. She looks like she might be helpful, because if there is anything his father has ever taught him, it is the curse and blessing of duplicity.
This girl may look like nothing, but there is more than meets the eye. Perhaps there is even more than that. He knows well enough not to judge. There are many that have died at his hand and his father's magic for assuming otherwise than what was before them.
He now waits—impatiently—for her answer. He does not remember many things and he cannot remember her name. It is a long, confusing one, he thinks. Perhaps he will need to shorten it. He hopes she won't mind. He doesn't know what he will do if she does.
"I know." The girl answers, and then she looks at him again, the blush fading. "Hermione Granger. I'm very pleased to meet you." She waits a beat. "And?" She looks expectantly to the two boys and Fenrir's gaze shifts right along with her.
They both stare at the little green-eyed waif and the redhead.
"Ronald Weasley." Hermione says, with something of a sniff. She remembers him, it seems.
"It's jus' Ron." The redhead mumbles, his freckled cheeks turn as red as his hair and he has something of an embarrassed glare fixed on his face.
Fenrir nods, gravely as if this is important information. Maybe it is.
Maybe it isn't.
"Fenrir." He repeats.
"I'm Harry." The green eyes glitter with something buried beneath their depths.
Fenrir knows he is right in assuming that there is more than meets the eye with the mysteries that he sees lurking under the surface. He is suddenly happier that he is the one in this lion-hearted house. Lions. Wolves. It doesn't matter.
He is happy.
There will be interesting things to see and do.
Interesting people to talk to.
And he will get to fly.
Somehow, this seems like the most fun out of everything.
"Harry." Fenrir murmurs to himself, not the least bit worried now that he has a name to put to this innocent little face. Of course, he can tell that there probably is very little that is innocent about this child. He can almost taste the waves of sadness, tentative hope and hurt that wafts off of little Harry.
Something stirs inside of him and he reminded that he is the son of a god.
Yes, indeed he is.
A son of one of the most powerful gods, for sure, because if there is no chaos there cannot be any order and well, if there are no lies, then how could there ever be truth?
For a moment, he is happy and that is all there needs to be.
When Seth is accepted at the Hufflepuff table, it is to some pomp and circumstance that he is not quite prepared for. The students are all warm, friendly and somewhat huggable. Seth discovers this in the roundabout way that he is somehow smooshed into something that resembles a group hug.
"Oi, oi! That's enough, down you lot!" A warm voice is Seth's saving grace and the gaggle of eager, cheerful children retreat enough for the owner of that welcome voice to swoop in and pull him towards the table. "Cedric." The grey-eyed boy grins widely. "Diggory. Fourth-year, just like you." He gives Seth a friendly slap on the should. "You can room with me and Kevin and Owen. We've always had an extra bed in the dorm."
"Seth," the horse-turned-boy manages to say, softly, quietly and with no small amount of caution. "It is nice to meet you, Cedric." It is hard not to flinch at the hearty slap that reminds him of the allfather's cracking whip.
Of all the memories that he hates—it was every second with a bridle bit between his teeth and reins jerking his head from side to side. The whip was only a crowning displeasure.
Seth mentally steels himself inward and out, knowing that he can do this, he must, but realizes that perhaps, it will take more effort than he is used to giving. He did not think that he would be so skittish after so long. He has lived for some time. He has been through wars and horrors that someone of his age ought not to have witnessed.
But he has been places and back again. A mental image of his mother hovers in his mind, a special bond that only he can share with her and while it is selfish to brag of it, Seth knows that he will never change in that.
If it wasn't for his mother, there are things he might have done before.
Things that might have cost them all.
Things that would certainly hurt.
Seth pays no mind to such thoughts as Cedric guides him to a newly opened slot on the crowded bench and he finds himself seated next to a blond with very pale-white hair and very bright blue eyes.
"hi." The boy speaks, tipping his head in something of a greeting. "I'm Kevin. I see Cedric's appointed himself your shadow already. Welcome to Hufflepuff. We take care of our own, it's good to have you." He reaches out to gift him another pat to the shoulder and the light in those blue eyes dim faintly, before
Seth nods automatically to Kevin. He does know about Hufflepuff but he does know about his own family. The very reason they are all split into four houses is because they are taking care of their own.
They are all trying or they will be, shortly. He must do his best as well.
Joren does not think that he likes this school thing very much.
At least not yet.
He doesn't know for sure.
There are voices in his head and things that he must be thinking about. He is not yet sure if he likes it yet. Something tells him that this will be complicated. He likes complicated. Sometimes. Complicated means puzzles and puzzles are enjoyable, most of the time. Maybe school will be the same way. Maybe it can be fun.
Maybe it will be fun.
There are eyes on him and Joren does not look up. He can feel them and he knows that if he needs to look, that he can see without seeing. When the stare does not shift, he does. He can feel the glamour that hides his eyes rippling beneath his skin. He can feel every shift of the eyelashes and eyelids as they blink.
There is new meaning to the idea of eyes in the back of one's head. But this is nothing new to Joren. He has been used to this mixed sight for his entire life and it is very easy to reconcile the flickering images in his head, to know how the world revolves, to know where each of his siblings are in turn and to know where his father is.
He can feel her approval radiating down on him from the Head Table. It makes him feel warm inside and that is enough of a reason to be something almost approaching happy. It occurs to him that this will be one of the strangest things he has ever done, but perhaps, he can manage.
There are faces staring at him and Joren makes no move to sit down. He will not insert himself where he is not wanted, but he will not continue to stand. His feet are hurting already. He does not like this.
He lightly throws his magic over the table, seeking a useful companion. The mixed jumble of emotions and tangled magic comes rushing back to him in full force, almost enough to give him a real headache, but he has been the Midgard serpent for many, many years and he knows how to handle this, so he does.
One little speck stands out from the mishmash of everything and Joren zeroed in on that. He gave the little speck a good strong tug and waited.
A very pale small boy at the end of the table, suddenly sat ramrod straight. For another long minute, he doesn't move, then hesitant brown eyes flicker over to look at Joren. After a moment, he elbows one of the younger students beside him and a space clears.
Joren calmly moves over to claim it. He wrinkles his nose at the Midgardian fare, and tries not to think of how tasty squid is. He does not want to eat the giant squid, he would like to be friends with it first.
He is rather hungry.
Perhaps he can simply…
A/N: Apologies for the long delay, I had this chapter all written, but I hadn't proofed it. Next should be the children meeting their head's of house and Loki's first night without his kids. I think. Don't hold me to that. Welcome to the new readers and lurkers. I appreciate the support for this fic. Thanks for reading and reviewing.