Prologue
Harry sat behind a large oak desk. Papers littered the surface and the nameplate, although unnecessary, read Minister Potter. Everyone who walked into this office always knew who they would be talking to. For the past year, it had been Harry Potter as acting Minister.
He set the papers down and ran a hand through his already ruffled hair. He leaned back in his chair and took off his glasses to rub at the corners of his eyes. They were becoming unfocused at the sight of twelve-foot-long parchment filled from top to bottom. He was tempted to forgo reading the fine print and just sign, but Hermione would never forgive him for not doing her job correctly.
He took another peek at the document. It was a petition for the welfare of prisoners in Azkaban. His wand hand twitched at the thought of those locked away in there. Some of the vilest people were securely locked away behind those bars. Left to the mercy of the dementors. They were deserving of that fate and much worse. It was only them and their actions that put them there and now there was a petition for their welfare? He should have seen it coming. It was Pansy Parkinson who requested it, trying to play the pitiful daughter without her father. Parkinson wasn’t a major player among the death eaters, but he still killed, maimed, and tortured as much as the rest of them.
Even with all the work done post-war, there wasn’t much he could do about some of the sympathizers. Kingsley’s administration accomplished plenty in rooting out the corruption in the Ministry and Hermione continued that. Harry was stuck in a situation where he couldn’t fire enough spells to fix it.
He still needed to negotiate terms with MACUSA, but he didn’t have the same rapport with them as Hermione. She collaborated with several of their departments on cases and early research projects from when she was an Unspeakable. Despite his status as the Boy-Who-Lived, it was slightly diminished across the pond. He was reluctant to admit it, but he needed their resources on extraterrestrial magical threats. They were further ahead in research and also had stronger connections to S.H.I.E.L.D. He grimaced at the thought of interacting with the agency. If it were his choice, he would hold off from any contact with them as long as possible.
Funny that he had big shoes to fill for Hermione Granger’s rather small feet. There was so much more pressure than he expected.
Hermione thrived as Minister. Sure she struggled with bias and backlash. Sometimes even the consequences of her own actions, but she accomplished so much. And when she accepted the help of her friends and allies, she was nigh unstoppable.
Succeeding her as minister was thrust upon him. He refused at first, but Wizarding Britain was in disarray at losing a leader so violently. He should have expected that they would look to him in a time of need. He was in a comfortable position as Head Auror with Ron at his side. He had more than enough pull and influence to step up. Although, it wasn’t much of a choice.
It was a blur of responsibilities. He and his family were reeling at the chain of events. Still were even with the six months that have passed. So he should be grateful for the small respite. If signing documents until eleven in the evening could be called that.
Wait. Eleven in the evening. He groaned and rubbed his face. He was late for dinner. Ginny would not appreciate that. Guilt stirred within him. There went another night of missing out on tucking the kids in bed. James and Al would forgive him. Ginny? Not so much.
He glanced at the overflowing desk, he still had so much to do. Harry debated with himself for a moment. He could afford to go home for the rest of the night. He grabbed his robe and patted his leg for his wand. Ingrained Auror instincts made him susceptible to the habit.
Harry walked the expanse of the Minister’s office, passing the plaques of his predecessors lining the walls. Once he reached the door was he able to see the most recent one that was nailed up.
Hermione Granger 1979-2011
Never would he have thought that he would outlive any of his friends. He spent his entire childhood facing life-threatening situations. Only managing death-defying stunts out of pure luck. Harry then continued that lifestyle by becoming an Auror. He half expected for that luck to run out by now. That it would also apply to his friends. It wasn’t true for Hermione. He pushed the thoughts away and reached for the door.
The rapid knocks were the only thing keeping him from drawing his wand at the small witch who slammed the door open. She startled at his proximity, a small eep escaping her while he relaxed. He shrugged apologetically but knows that she’s dealt with worse antics. It was only the secretary, Meg. She regained her posture, but the tension around her eyes did not disappear.
“Minister Potter, there’s been a situation in Germany.”
He was on alert, but raised a brow at what could possibly need his attention in Germany. Did they require aid? Otherwise, any other conflict was left up to the German Wizarding Republic.
“What happened, Meg?”
She pursed her lips, “A magical attack on muggles. Extremely public. From what I could tell, the Aurors have already begun with the obliviation protocol and the suspect is in custody.” She was evading, he could tell. Her eyes shifted around the room and he could see a slight glean to them. Something was making her nervous.
“Meg,” He said more firmly, “tell me what happened.”
She breathed out a shaky sigh, “I think you need to see for yourself, sir.” She led him to one of the only working muggle televisions functioning in the Ministry. It was switched to a news channel, an anchor in the corner of the screen reporting on the strange events that occurred during a gala in Stuttgart, Germany. Tension worked its way up to Harry’s shoulders. No amount of obliviation would cover this up. It only got worse as he watched the events play out.
Security footage from different angles played out in order. He watched as he walked in. Swinging some staff he knew just had to be magical and dispatching a security guard. Then, as he brutally murdered another person with some sort of muggle device. Harry wondered why he wasn’t using any magic, knowing that he was more than capable. He regretted the thought seconds later. Light went shooting from the staff wreaking chaos among the muggles. Illusions of himself adding to the bedlam. The panicked crowd was corralled together. And he intoned in that familiar smug voice his soliloquy.
The muggle footage was undeniable. It was him. He thought he was dead. They had all been there when Hermione delivered the news after just finding out herself. Hell, Hermione had been in so much grief when Thor came to deliver the news.
She had been heartbroken over his absence. He assumed that it carried with her until the day she died. Confusion took over at the sight of an old friend.
The green garb, the slicked-back hair. It was no doubt Loki Odinson.
“Get me in touch with SHIELD. I need to speak to their prisoner.”
Once Harry had their coordinates, he apparated in the quinjet. He wouldn’t be telling Ginny about that one. She had given him one too many lectures about apparating midair after attempting a landing on a broom. He made it without so much as a stumble, but was met with several guns aimed at him. Right. It was still a hazard to appear suddenly on a secret agent aircraft. He had his wand out in case a shield was necessary.
Director Fury waved them off after recognizing him. The agents obeyed, but eyed him warily.
“Auror Potter. You were in the neighborhood?” He asked flatly. They were several hundred feet in the air. It wasn’t likely.
The few times Director Nick Fury and himself have interacted were brief and stilted. Suspicion was loud and clear on both ends. The director’s vaguity wore on his patience. He at least understood where he was coming from with the paranoia, but Merlin , if the man did not remind him of Albus Dumbledore and Alastor Moody.
“Director Fury. I would like to speak to Loki." He added off-handedly, "and it's Minister now." Harry stared him down. The agents around them shifted in anticipation. If he were being honest, he had no idea what he was going to do once he was standing in front of Loki. Give him the benefit of the doubt? Hermione trusted him and had fallen in love with him. By proxy, that meant they would trust Loki. His attack on a muggle gala— was it that hard to believe Loki was in control of his faculties at that time. Harry suspected him of several incidents that destroyed the lives of Wizengamot members.
Fury narrowed his one eye at the wizard, “You are not taking the prisoner, Potter. We already came to an agreement with Thor. I’m not looking to debate this with you.” Harry noticed that he didn’t use the proper title. Any other time, he wouldn’t have cared, but this was done with purpose.
“He is a magical threat. I believe that falls under our jurisdiction, Director . ”
“And how does a magical government from another continent have jurisdiction over this prisoner? If it were MACUSA arriving here, I would understand.”
Harry was ready to press on. He needed to talk to Loki, “I’ve already requested admission from MACUSA. Now I would like to speak to Lokiー”
“What’s this about wanting to speak to Reindeer Games?” Tony Stark cut in. The man was no longer in the suit of armor of his, instead wearing an expensive suit. He looked him up and down and seemed to take note of his Auror robes, “Aw heck, you’re not another Asgardian are you?”
Harry ignored him, “Let me speak to Loki and then we can discuss your freehold of the scepter.” With that he summoned the scepter to him with a non-verbal accio.
This kick-started everyone into action. Several guns were drawn again, this time with the addition of an armored gauntlet. It drew everybody’s attention to him. All his attention was focused on the scepter. It was heavy and lithe and infinitely powerful. He thought he felt power when he held the Elder Wand in his hands, but this outclassed the wand on so many levels. Comparatively, it was more on par with Deathly Hallows put together. Everything within him screamed for it to be destroyed.
“Why do you need to speak with Loki so badly? Are you working with him?” Harry tightened his grip around his wand and the scepter. Its power still overwhelmed him. No. I am not working for him, but we were acquainted. He was dating my best friend before he died .
“Look, I have the scepter and nothing is really stopping me from going down there and speaking to him. Asking you was more of a courtesy. Now if you don’t mind,”
Thor steps in front of him, “What business do you have with my brother?”
Harry was losing his patience. If he had to repeat himself one more time…
“I will leave the scepter in your possession as a motion of my goodwill. Just let me talk to him.” He hated politics and negotiations. Why anyone thought him being Minister was a good idea was beyond him.
They hesitated once more and Harry’s patience was finally at an end.
He disillusioned himself and went to find Loki. Panicked shouts went through the room at his disappearance. He snuck past a man in a suit of American colors, a bit garish, he thought, and arrived at the monitors. There Loki was standing in a clear cell. He briefly wondered if the man—alien— ever truly cared for Hermione. Or if his first assumptions about the man were correct. His actions over the past couple of days were most definitely cause for some evaluation.
Harry placed the scepter in a janitorial closet because there was not a chance he was putting that back in the same room as Loki.
Harry apparated into the room. Loki swiftly whipped around with a smile already pasted to his face, but he looked worse for wear. It was odd. Loki’s mien was never less than immaculate. Now, he had dark circles that contrasted to his ghastly grey pallor.
“Harry! How have you been, old friend? I see you’re here by yourself. She must have sent you ahead. Was she too ashamed to see me herself?”
Harry glared at his blithe mockery, “You never deserved her.”
“I’d say otherwise,” He swept an arm out, “I’m delivering her the whole world. Greatness for the both of us.” Harry’s frown deepened. Something about this conversation was not right. Besides the obvious. He just couldn’t put his finger on it. Memories of Hermione and Loki in the midst of a heated argument came to mind.
He pressed on, “She never would have wanted this. You know that. Why are you really doing this?”
“If she doesn’t want this, why not come stop me herself?”
“Would you really have let her stop you?”
“Of course. She only needs to tell me what she wants.” He paused and seemed to come to a realization. He cocked his head and almost to himself, “You speak of her in the past tense. Does she no longer love me?” His tone was wistful as if it were no real loss.
And Harry’s rage that had dissipated came back in a flood, “Everything she ever worked for, fought for, was for equality. And you throw that all away because us humans are ‘ants’. If she were alive, she would be heartbroken at the sight of you. Relieved that you are alive, horrified at what you have done in your absence.”
Loki froze. Then he chuckled. And wagged his finger, “That was a good one. You almost got me, the Trickster God. I wouldn’t have taken you, Harry Potter, to tell such a cruel joke. I suppose I deserve it, but really. Was that your idea? Or hers? Likely my dear Hermione’s wasn’t it? She always does what needs to be done and her using my love for her against me? That’s conceivable.”
Harry couldn’t tell if this was pure disbelief, desperation, or denial. He almost pitied the other man.
Loki looked at him
I know you ants have short life spans, but she couldn’t have possibly died recently
“She was killed around six months ago by two neo-death eaters. It took a cutting hex to the throat while she was giving a speech.”
Loki was staring at him while he recognized the truth in his words. He turned away, “No, no. She’s fine. I did everything I could to protect her. It should have worked.”
Harry thought back to the time when he broke up with Ginny after Dumbledore’s death. He thought it would be best to protect her if he kept away while he searched for horcruxes. Maybe, he should consider believing him.
In the moment it took Harry to sympathize, Loki came to a decision.
“Tell me who.” His demeanor lacked its self-satisfied appearance. There was a simmering rage behind those eyes.
Harry regarded him carefully. Before he could begin to consider telling him the answer, a red-haired agent slipped in, “Minister Potter, I believe your time is up here.” She stood impassively at the door.
“I don’t—” There was a roar and the sound of glass shattering. Harry had a protego up fast enough to deter the outburst away from both him and the agent. Loki was out of his cell. He assumed the countermeasures in places activated since the cell dropped out of the quinjet. He knew that he would have easily escaped. Luckily, he set up anti-apparition wards. He only hoped that was enough because Loki was prepared to take his revenge.
With the shield down, he had to duck to avoid the green light headed towards him. He remembered vividly when he first witnessed Loki’s magic. He had been ready to apprehend him to later find out that the color was a signature to the sorcerer rather than the spell. It still violently reminded him of the killing curse. Maybe he wasn’t too far off with Loki’s current motivations.
“Tell me!” Harry sent an impedimenta that clipped him on the shoulder. He stumbled back and this time hurled a volley of spells that Harry had to slash his wand rapidly to deflect. Harry returned a few of his own in between.
They traded spells like this, neither one gaining on each other until Loki lunged at him. Harry grunted and rolled. He didn’t spar like this as often and he knew that Loki had the advantage. But he didn’t take any punches, and he quickly freed his arm to hit Loki. It snapped his head back a little but didn’t do much damage. Instead, he brought his palm up to Harry’s forehead and dived. Harry was helpless to the mental attack. He never mastered Occlumency and his memories were surrendered to the invasion.
He flicked through memories and he was becoming overwhelmed by the emotions that came with each memory. Grief and exhaustion weighed down on his chest. Hermione’s death had been sudden and unexpected. The result of the cruel actions of a couple of dark wizards who held the typical beliefs of pureblood bigots.
One too many laws passed by Minister Hermione Granger that bettered the lives of those perceived as lesser than had painted a larger target on her back. A larger target than the one that had burdened her as a muggle-born witch and the Minister of Magic.
His best friend. A sister to him.
Guilt tore at him. He was on Auror duty the night that the assassination occurred. It was a big day for Hermione and the Wizarding World. The integration into the Muggle World would be jarring no matter how small the steps they took were. Hermione was in the middle of answering questions from the press when she abruptly cut off. Harry was surveilling the area when he heard the wet coughs come from her. He turned around in concern just in time to see blood spill past her lips, hand pressed weakly to her throat. Screams came from the crowd.
“Hermione!”
Distantly, he knew that this was a memory. It didn’t stop the fear from strangling his own throat.
He ran toward Hermione where she collapsed to her knees, grasping the podium with her bloodied hands. Watching this again, he barely registered the tortured cry escaping Loki.
Harry knew what came next. He would shuck off his auror robes to press them to Hermione’s throat to stop the flow. Then, he would cast all the healing charms in his cache. He even summoned Murtlap Essence from the bag Hermione made for him. His hands were steady solely from years of experience and training in keeping his wits about him. He cast diagnostic charms and the result told him what he knew deep down.
“Hermione,” he murmured determinedly, “Stay with me.” He watched the diagnostics show her weakening pulse. She stopped coughing and the blood trickled freely down her cheek.
Desperately, “Hermione. Please.” He looked down to check on her and she was gone. The diagnostic charm faded away.
Hermione Granger. Dead at thirty-one. Lifeless in his arms within seconds.
Harry came to and Loki’s hand was still clutching his head. He could hardly fight off his grip. Shock still lingered. Loki shook his head wildly, “Who did it?” Then he delved in again.
His search was relentless. Memories flickered in and out.
He felt the breeze from that day of the funeral. All of Hermione’s friends and family were crowded around the casket. Hermione’s recently recovered parents were sobbing across from him. When Helen Granger let out a particularly loud wail all he could do was tug Ginny closer. She was holding Lily Luna in her arms and James and Al shifted restlessly in front of him. He glanced at Ron and saw that he had tears streaming down his face.
Harry locked his jaw. He hadn’t yet found the bastard who did this, but when he did, he would make sure they suffered.
Ron and he were standing in the Minister’s office. Well, his office now. Hermione’s things still occupied the room. They didn’t have the heart to redecorate.
Ron, who was promoted to Head Auror, was giving him reports on the search for the killer.
“We believe there were two perpetrators. One had to fire the cutting hex while the other disillusioned it. It was a premeditated attack that involved unique employment of the two spells.” Ron looked meaningfully at Harry, “You couldn’t have seen it coming, Harry.”
A separate part of his consciousness felt the fingers on his forehead dig in in condemnation.
He arrested the two death eaters months after searching for them. He realized that was what Loki was looking for: their faces and whereabouts.
The aurors found Jensen Vermillion first. A curse breaker was able to identify one of the signatures at the scene of the crime. Vermillion was deplorable. He was one of Voldemort’s death eaters in the second war, but not significant enough for them to have caught him in the aftermath. He wasn’t even at the Battle of Hogwarts. His loyalty to his Dark Lord did not extend to his associate.
After one session of interrogation, he gave up the man who cast the cutting hex. They did not even have to administer Veritaserum.
Adrik Dolohov was found in a brothel down Knockturn Alley. His being Antonin Dolohov’s son explained the convoluted combination of spells. His arrogance for his family’s brilliance held fast.
And with that thought came the next memory, him standing over a cell in Azkaban as the wizards lost their minds to the dementors. He was tempted to have them Kissed. But a darker side of him enjoyed their slow suffering.
He came to with a gasp, Loki breathless with his own rage and grief, but there was that determined glint in his eye. Calculated in contrast to his detached methodology. He touched his palm to Harry’s forehead once more. The scepter was stuffed in a mop bucket and warded. Shite . This was not good.
Harry ran after him as he headed toward the closet. Loki fought past the barrage of agents heading his way. The redhead agent from earlier was hot on their heels. She pushed past Harry and grabbed Loki’s arm. He was about to stab another agent and he ripped her arm off of him without much effort, but she was fast. She shot something off from her wrist and aimed it right in his face. Loki was stunned for a few seconds.
That was more than enough time.
The agent sent a strong kick to his chest and Harry shot off ropes to constrain him. Neither Harry nor the agent paused to relax yet. They were right not to.
Loki vanished the ropes and kicked the woman’s legs out from under her. She was back up in a heartbeat and launched herself on top of the man.
Harry’s spell faltered, no longer having a clear shot.
Loki backed up harshly into the wall to jar the agent off of him. She only twisted away and tried to use the momentum to bring him down with her. He resisted and she fell away.
“You would be best off staying out of my way, Agent Romanov.”
With that parting comment, the janitorial closet door blasted open and Loki retrieved the staff. Harry delivered another barrage of spells, hexes, and jinxes. This time more desperate. With that scepter in hand, Harry barely stood a chance.
Harry grabbed on tightly to Loki. He needed to stop him from leaving. Agent Romanov seemed to be thinking along the same lines. She grasped the back of his collar.
The three of them appeared on a balcony; there sat the tesseract. At least Loki was still predictable. They traded even more spells and he knew he was wearing on the other man’s patience. He just needed to hold him off from leaving. Harry sent a patronus to Ron. Then after a split-second, sent another to Fury and his team. He needed help as much as it grated him to have to receive it from SHIELD.
Agent Romanov was faring well considering Loki’s magic and physiology. Until he sent a strong enough blast to knock the both of them off their feet.
Loki Odinson took the tesseract and the scepter and disapparated.