Chapter 93

Harry nodded and began to dispel his illusions. He stepped into an alcove and pulled on his necklace. He felt as it layered different, more powerful illusions over him, which not only changed his face, elongated his hair and made it blond, but made his build bulkier.

His clothes shimmered, changing colour but retaining their rough form.

A mirror materialised in front of Harry and he flashed himself a charming grin, making sure that everything was in place.

A few minutes later, he was arriving at the doors of Odin's chambers. He casually walked past the guards, who parted to allow him through, with mutters of "my prince."

Harry nodded at them and strode into Odin's chambers. The first room was grand, with wide, warder windows and an ornate fountain in the middle. Beyond that were two doors, one leading into Odin's study, and the other into his bedroom.

Without pause, Harry walked onwards, and knocked on the study's door.

"Come in," came Odin's reply, a few moments later.

Harry felt the enchantments on the door disengage, and pushed it open.

Odin stood as he entered the room.

"Father," Harry said. "I need to talk to you."

With a sigh, Odin moved over to a table with a few bottles of alcohol on. "Not pertaining Loki, again? I've told you, Thor, that—"

"No, no. As fantastic of a topic Loki is, I've come here to discuss something else."

Odin's back was turned. He didn't even see Harry move before his wand was embedded a few inches in his back, firing off a dozen spells. Limply, he collapsed to the floor, smashing his face into the table as he did so.

Harry scratched his head. "Man, I have a weird definition of 'discuss.'"

He took the liquor from the table and began to pour it over Odin.

'What are you doing?'

Harry paused. 'We're not setting him on fire, then?'

'I told you that we're not killing him yet.'

'Well, we wouldn't kill him—the fire would.'

'Harry…'

'Fine, I'll get on with the framing.'

"Thor!" Harry bellowed, his voice replicating Odin's. "What are—"

He swung his wand around, bringing a table smashing against a wall and flinging fake blood around the room. After causing a bit more destruction, and ensuring that the guards were rushing towards him, Harry slung Odin over his shoulder and leapt through the window, escaping into the night.

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The knife wobbled precariously, balancing on Harry's fingertip on the point of its blade.

Harry's concentration—and his utter stillness—was disrupted as the door at the end of the room began to open. The knife began to topple and Harry grasped it between his fingers before it could fall. A moment later, it was in motion, flying end over end.

Instead of stabbing into the neck of the one entering the room, it was batted away by a pulse of invisible force.

"Oh, hello, Loki," Harry said. "I thought you were someone else."

"You thought I was someone else? Someone else entering my bedroom? My bedroom, in my quarters, in my personal tower, which is warded against everyone except me?"

"I got in, didn't I?"

"You helped set up the wards in the first place."

"Exactly."

"The other day you were bragging about how powerful your castle's wards are, and how you plan to use the Tesseract to create the most powerful ward ever."

Harry shook his head. "I'm not saying they're bad because of my input—I'm saying they're bad because I only helped make them, instead of making them on my own."

"If I'd let you make them, you would have probably made them kill me, or something."

"What, so I can take the throne? That sounds like a lot of work, and you know I don't do anything that requires substantial effort unless it's funny." Harry summoned the knife back to his hand. "Anyway, how did your coronation go?"

"Quite well, I think. I wasn't assassinated."

"I wouldn't have guessed." Harry stood from Loki-Two's bed. "Now, you only have a few minor things to sort out, like half the population hating you, and Midgard's governments having a grudge against you for your crappy attempted conquering of their world."

Loki-Two raised an eyebrow. "Will Midgard hating me be much of a problem?"


"They have nukes and wizards. I'm pretty sure that those could be pretty bad for Asgard." Harry paused. "Well, they could be if the Midgardians ever figured out how to open portals to Asgard, which they probably won't. Anyway, it's better to be safe than sorry."

"That doesn't sound like you, at all."

Harry waved his hand dismissively. "I don't have to be cautious most of the time—not beyond what I normally do, anyway. Most things can't threaten me. Nukes, however, can."

"Even when they're on another realm?"

"I spend most of my time on Midgard, and happen to look a lot like you—if far more attractive," Harry said. "But to be honest, I just want an excuse to go and talk to the sci-fi pirate. I'll leave you to stamp out any rebellion, and to become an evil dictator."

And without further ado, Harry left the room.

"You know, for what's supposed to be a secret base, this isn't very stealthy."

Fury spun around in his chair, reaching for his gun and finding only an empty holster.

Harry continued to spin the gun around his finger as Fury dove behind his desk, reaching for another gun. "Relax, I'm not here to kill you." He paused. "Well, that depends on how that meeting goes."

Fury popped around the side of his desk, gun roaring. All six bullets froze a few inches from Harry, two in front of his heart, two in front of his neck, and two in front of his face.

"This isn't off to a good start, is it?" With a wave of his hand, Harry sent the desk crashing into the wall, and levitated Fury into the air, wrenching the gun from his hand.

Harry's face shimmered and resumed his old, blond disguise. "See, I'm not Loki. I'm the guy who was helping you track him down, and who accused you of being a Somalian space pirate. Are you one, by the way?"

Fury continued to angrily and silently levitate.

"Stop being silent."

Fury stayed silent.