Chapter Text
“What?!” It was one of the few times where Hermione’s cry was louder than any of Ron’s—an accomplishment that should go down in Hogwarts history. “But he can’t be that Loki, it’s not possible!”
The ginger man looked between the pair. “Who’s this Low-key bloke?”
“Loki is a god in Nordic folktales.” Hermione changed gears at her husband’s lack of understanding. “Never mind, think of him as a powerful wizard from fairy tales who shouldn’t be real.”
“Ooooh.”
“I don’t know if he’s bad or not,” Harry continued, “and he definitely didn’t tell me everything. I think if he had a House he’d be a Slytherin.” The whispered words from the Sorting Hat returned to him, still as fresh from when he had been a scared eleven-year-old child. The Sorting Hat had wanted to put him in Slytherin before Gryffindor, but Harry had been adamant against it after meeting Draco Malfoy. Loki fit the ambitious nature that Salazar Slytherin approved of, that much had been obvious.
“I knew he couldn’t be trusted,” Ron spat in instant anger. Hermione rolled her eyes.
“Don’t be Houseist. Loptr isn’t one of us, and not all Slytherins are bad anyway. Just like not all Gryffindor are good.” Ron cringed at the reminder and nodded. That had been a hard lesson indeed.
Debating Loptr’s identity could wait, Harry’s needs were top priority. “So what’s bothering you?” urged Hermione after a moment. Harry swallowed some tea and licked his lips. That was a loaded question right now, wasn’t it?
“He said I have siblings.”
The witch clapped her hands. “That’s wonderful, Harry, you have more family!” He gave a shaky nod. It WAS good news. All of his friends knew how much he wanted a large family, and he was forever grateful that the Weasleys saw him as one of their own no matter what ultimately happened between him and Ginny.
“They’re in some kind of trouble, and he’s trying to save them.” Both of his best friends frowned. The ginger leaned in.
“Is it the same reason you were kept with your dad?” Giving up a child was beyond Ron, what with having grown up with five brothers and one sister. His parents had pulled together to raise them all no matter how tough things sometimes got.
“Yeah,” the brunet answered. “There’s a war going on, and he’s leading one side of it.”
“Blimey,” Ron commented. “There’s a Giant war? I hope Hagrid doesn’t plan to visit anyone.” Hermione kicked his ankle. “Ouch!”
Harry pulled off his glasses to rub his face. His mind was on everything the man (God?) had said, how he had said it, and what he had done during their short time together. If Harry had still been an ignorant child, there was a lot of subtext he would have missed. And now that he had time to chew on it, he was able to read deeper than he had at the spur of the moment. “A Giant war would have been so much simpler,” he groaned.
~*Chapter 5: Join the Club*~
Natasha had holed up in her room after they returned from the Leaky Cauldron. From the sounds of it she was doing this and that spell (nanite programs?) to ends she hadn't bother divulging to the rest of the class yet.
Tony glanced over to Clint who was dutifully reading up more about the circus world they were in. Without his inventions or business to distract his brilliant mind, the genius was becoming antsy. “Let’s go on a date.”
It took the blonde’s brain a moment to decipher what had been said to him, and it still made no sense. “What?” The brunet chuckled at the other man’s expression.
“Let’s see what we can find while Tash is busy. Come on.”
Hawkeye frowned. “I don’t think splitting up is a good idea. We’re out of our depth in this place without her.”
“Eh, we won’t go far. Maybe back to that bar The Crackpot.” Iron Man perfectly knew the proper name of the pub, he just didn’t care.
“You just want a drink, don’t you?” the blond quizzed with a raised brow, although Tony could just make out a hidden grin.
“I know you also want one or three.”
“Yeah,” Clint agreed and put away the floating text. “Let’s go.”
They found their way back to Diagon Alley easily enough, and this time the two males had the chance to really look at the wacky businesses and the funky people populating them. They gave cursory glances through the front windows of the junk and secondhand stores, the brunet obstinately ignoring the wand store (it looked dull anyway), until they reached a source of noisy animals. The sign stated that the store was called The Magical Menagerie.
“This I have got to see,” the CEO declared as he strolled straight inside. Hawkeye rolled his eyes and followed.
Inside was lit mostly with natural light streaming through the storefront windows, but it was enough to see the chaos of the indoor zoo that made up the Magical Menagerie. There was some sort of jewel-encrusted tortoise-Eldritch creature that was going to fuel their nightmares for the next while, a bunch of oversized purple toads and orange snails, fuzzballs that they couldn’t begin to identify, more cats and birds and rats than should be legal in a shared space, some rabbits that kept changing into inanimate objects, and things they couldn’t even classify but were definitely alive and moving about their enclosures. And that was only the front room.
They weren’t able to look through the full establishment, however, thanks to a herd of children barging in with the typical excited cries and chatter of preteens. The ravens noisily chattered back at them and the rats began to scurry around for attention. The two adult men beat it out of there to keep their sanity.
The bank, as impressive as the carved stone dragon was, went ignored. So did shops selling the all sorts of billowy robes, books (might give that a go later), and stationery. The next time they stopped was in front of an ice cream parlor (Liam Fortescue’s Ice Cream Extravaganza!) advertising the colorful confections were now enchanted with a new and improved never-melt charm.
Stark opened his mouth, but Clint beat him to the punch. “Double dog dare you,” the sharpshooter dared, staring at the Flavor of the Month: Pumpkin Explosion. Tony scratched his beard for a moment.
“Same time?” the business man countered.
“Deal.”
The ice cream was delicious.
The pub & inn, which they finally reached after staring at displays of floating brooms (hover technology, duh), was teeming with more people than before. Not a surprise with it being earlier in the evening than yesterday. A few eyes turned to them before alerting others, looked like word had already gotten around about them.
Tony slapped on his most charming grin and headed straight to the bar where a young man was currently serving. It was Mrs. Hannah last night, this had to be her employee Leonard. He had had fun painting a story of how he and his companions hadn’t been back in Wizarding Britain in years, and just as they had planned to return they got marooned in muggle America for the duration of the war. Then it was just too much of a mess to come back until family and business matters could be ironed out. Mrs. Hannah and the sleepy bar patrons had been more than interested to hear his tales of non-wizarding Manhattan. It seemed wizards didn’t often travel out-of-country if it wasn’t for big events, let alone visit normal civilization.
Tony glanced over as Clint was suddenly grabbed to a table by a gaggle of women. What was that about?
Hawkeye wanted to know what was going on too as he allowed the ladies to sit him down at a large table seating a few more women. They were all wearing expensive-looking hairstyles and robes with accessories that sparkled in the fire light. “We’re so happy we were able to catch you this time,” one trilled.
“Yes, us wives have to stick together,” said another. The sharpshooter smiled, he could work with this.
“Like a sett of badgers,” he agreed.
“Looks like your spouse has been pulled into the Wives Club,” commented a man to Stark’s left. Like the ladies, his robes and accessories looked expensive. He raised his mug in greeting. “Alden MacNair, we were visiting family in Scotland when travel was banned. My wife Madeline.” He motioned to one of the witches at the Wives Club table.
“Tony Stark,” and like Alden he motioned to his supposed spouse, “my honeybun Clint.”
“Pleasant to meet your acquaintance, Stark.” MacNair’s grin seemed genuine, which surprised the brunet. He was used to the bullshit grins that never touched the eyes, but Alden’s gaze was sparkling. “This chap is Gauge Graham, that’s Baron Brooks, Sheldon Sherwin, Edward Todd, and Tucker Villads.”
Gauge was a thin, tall man with slicked back hair, and he seemed especially eager to talk to Tony. “We heard your fortune is in the United States, even though you were born here?” Mister Graham was less sincere than MacNair by a football field, but the curiosity was real enough.
“Yes, father’s side. His family is of course from England, but they moved to the Americas a while back. Mother’s family is still here, and I was born in her ancestral home.”
Tony knew to hit all of the keywords and he kept his own movements languid. He’d have these men dancing to his tune and telling him anything he wanted soon enough. And from the look of it, Barton was doing pretty well himself in the Wives Club. They looked like they were all having a good rant about something.
Tucker sidled up to the brunet next. He was short and squat, he made the CEO think of an overfed corgi. “They’re probably complaining about us menfolk, if you ask me,” he laughed.
At that moment, Stark happened to meet eyes with Clint. He gave the bowman a wink, the blond pursed his lips and snorted then he looked back to the lady to his right. He made a remark that caused the table to laugh. “Yeah, they definitely are talking about us.”
“We don’t normally get a lot of new faces this time of year, or old faces in your case,” Alden chuckled. “The other day there was a Slytherin that was as tall as a carriage. Pale bloke, he may have been a potion master. He reminded me of Professor Snape come to think of it.” Tony perked up.
“Do tell.”
~*~
The God of Thunder was displeased. Three of his cherished companions had gone off to track down Loki in an unknown land without him. He saw no reason why he had to be excluded from a mission involving his wayward brother. Ultimately, Loki was his responsibility and it was wrong to place the bulk of that burden on his friends.
The golden Asgardian ran both powerful hands through his gorgeous tresses. For a moment the action made him think of how Loki’s hair had also become long over the centuries. The raven male kept it shorter when they were younger, Thor assumed it was to keep from catching on fire during his magic lessons.
He sighed to himself and looked around the roof of the Avengers Tower for the hundredth time. The only other person outside with him was Falcon, who was reading on his tablet and enjoying the sunlight. Thor would seek Hulk out for an invigorating spar, but his green friend had disappeared to do whatever it was he liked to do in his own time (perhaps he went to trade fists or cards with Thing of the Fantastic Four?). Captain America was similarly unavailable because he was in a meeting with Fury.
He spun Mjolnir then shot into the air, passing the lowest clouds. It was not in his nature to remain idle, he would find a way to the secret land his friends had infiltrated.