Loki Odinson

Title: Wicked Stepmother 13. Loki Odinson

Author: ExcentrykeMuse

Pairing: Harry Potter / Loki Odinson

Fandom(s): Harry Potter Series / Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG13

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: mpreg, age discrepancy (3k/15), evil!Lily, cheating, hidden identity

Prompt: for Cas : I would love a Harry Potter/Loki like Perfect Illusion. I just adore that story and reread it all the time.

Howard Anthony Stark could not believe that he was not actually Harry Potter.  It all came as quite a shock.  He was eleven years old, in the line to get sorted, and the Sorting Hat was put on his head when it spent one second ontop of his messy black hair before screaming, “Stolen Child!”

Immediately, everyone went into action.

The Headmaster—Harry thought he was the Headmaster—was befuddled.  A professor with greasy black hair looked shocked and came up to him and took him away down to the dungeons where he waited until the police wizards—or Aurors came.  Someone might have screamed.

The next three days were long and hard.

Charts were checked.  He was, in fact, on the Potter Family Tree as ‘Harry James Potter.’  They couldn’t check the Evans family tree because she was a Muggleborn.  Aunt Petunia was brought in and rigorously interviewed.

Then they resorted to blood magic.

Harry’s left forearm was cut and then the blood was dripped into a smooth gold bowl.  He had to be given four blood replenishing potions before there was enough blood.  Then, his wand was rolled in the blood and then rolled over a special parchment. 

That’s when they found out—that James Potter wasn’t his father.  Instead, it was an American wizard named Anthony Stark, who had been looking for Harry for the past twelve years when ‘Lily,’ the witch he knew as his fiancée, had disappeared, pregnant.

Tony Stark looked exactly like Harry. He was tall, with messy black hair, and brown eyes.  Harry was his exact copy except he had his mother’s green eyes and glasses.  Then Tony put on large glasses to get a better look at Harry.  “You can’t like those spectacles.  That can’t be an actual fashion choice.”

Harry blinked.  “No.  Aunt Petunia got them for me when I was eight.”

“Eight?” he asked.  “Well, we’ll get you some new ones, and contacts if you’re old enough.”  He smiled.  “I’ve been looking for you, Howard, for a very long time.”

Harry blinked again.  “My name is Harry.”

“Harry?” Tony asked in shock as he stood up and accepted a file from an Auror, flipping through it.  “I see your mother didn’t use the name we agreed on.  We’ll fix that.  But I can call you ‘Harry’ if you want to be ‘Harry.’  ‘Harry’ can be short for Howard—sort of.”  He shrugged and bent down to Harry’s level.  “How do you feel about coming to California?”

Harry shrugged.  “I never thought about it.”

“Well, then, you’re in for an adventure.”  He reached out his hand and Harry hesitantly took it.  “Now, watch out, I have a Muggle staff.”  They had Harry’s trunk wheeled around and out into the sunlight where there was a limo waiting.  There was immediately a driver waiting to take the trunk and Tony opened the door for Harry who slipped in and was immediately startled with a woman with red hair and blue eyes.

“Harry, meet Pepper Potts, my personal assistant.  She’s here to help you.  Pepper, my son, Howard.  He’s been going by ‘Harry’ the past eleven years.”

She smiled kindly at Harry.  “Nice to meet you, Harry.”  She reached into her bag and handed him a box.  “This is your Starkphone.  My number and your father’s are programmed into it.”

“I get a phone?” Harry asked in confusion.

“Keep it on you at all times,” Tony told him.  “We don’t want to lose you again.”

And that’s how his entire life started….

…. Harry ended up not attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  Tony didn’t hold with it.  He was very mistrustful of anything that had to do with Lily and her background.  Not only had she been his fiancée and disappeared when she was pregnant into the war back in England, but she was also simultaneously engaged and then married James Potter.

Tony wanted Harry to go to Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft of Wizardry at Mount Greylock in Massachusetts.  Harry embraced his heritage there and befriended Aldric Weathercrest, the youngest son of the American Minister for Magic.

Aldric was several years ahead of Harry, but Harry was in the same year in Runes.  They were meeting to get their Runes textbook in New York for Harry’s fifth year and Aldric’s seventh, when Aldric was over an hour late.

“You seem bored with the financial times.”

Harry looked up to see a handsome wizard in green with black hair that came to his shoulders looking at him.  He was dressed to the height of British fashion, in a black turtleneck, a green wizard’s coat, black slacks, and black boots, all topped off with black dragon hide gloves.  All he needed was a black top hat, though even Harry would concede that would be too much.

“I’m afraid I’ve read it three times,” Harry confessed, folding it and putting it under his arm.  “My friend Aldric is over an hour late.”

“And he hasn’t sent an owl?”  He tsked.  “Shame on him.”

“Something must have happened,” Harry surmised, his eyes following the crowd.  “I can’t imagine what, though.  We’ve been talking about this trip for over a week.”

The wizard held out his hand.  “Loki Odinson.”

The name stuck in Harry’s head, connecting to an idea, before it slid away again.  Harry just smiled instead.  “You must have gone to Hogwarts.”

“I’m afraid I did.”

“I was at Hogwarts for all of two seconds before I was declared a stolen child and transferred to the Ministry of Magic.  I haven’t been back to Britain since.”

“That would explain the roundness to your vowels,” Loki mused, leaning forward.  “Your accent has otherwise softened.”  He looked Harry over.

Harry knew he looked the quintessential pureblood wizard, although he was technically a half-blood.  He was wearing black jeans, black dragonhide boots, black dragonhide gloves, the black turtleneck and black tie, with a dark blue coat with oversized buttons.

“Shall we assume Aldric is not coming?” Loki suggested, “Master—”

“Howard Stark.”

“Stark,” Loki repeated, clearly impressed.  It was an old American wizarding name.  Like Odinson meant that Loki was—his mind skated over the answer and wandered off somewhere again.

Loki was looking at his watch, which didn’t tell the time.  “It’s well past lunch.  I assume you’ve been waiting for Aldric through it unless you ate quickly before coming here.”  He looked up with expressive blue eyes.  “Would you be my guest, Master Howard, for a late bite to eat?”

Harry looked at Loki for a long moment, a sense of suspicion at his name—Loki—Loki—trickster—but then the suspicion quickly disappeared.  “Thank you, Lord Loki.”  He hopped off the brick wall he was sitting on and allowed Loki to lead the way.

They walked past the three large fireplaces that allowed patrons to floo in and out of the alley.  They walked past the graffiti including the one of round glasses with a scar over the bridge. 

Harry hated such graffiti.  When he had arrived in America, Tony was true to his word and had gotten him a current prescription and he had contacts, which he was wearing today.  Tony had also hired the best plastic surgeon on the West Coast to resculpture Harry’s forehead and he now had nothing but smooth skin.  He was hardly recognizable as Harry Potter now that he had three regular meals per day.

They came to an ornate door in a brick building, unmarked, and Loki opened it for him.  Inside there were witches and wizards lying on couches, plates hovering above them where they could take pastries and grapes.  There were murals on the walls of unicorns bleeding and manticores spearing Muggles.  It was slightly disturbing.

Loki led him forward up to the maître d’, who was a short plump woman dressed in pale blue.

“Table for two?” she asked as Loki slipped a membership card forward.  It was a pure forest green.

“Yes, thank you,” Loki answered.

The card was registered and handed back before they were led back behind a curtain to where witches and wizards were drinking various teas and eating pastries.

“The luncheon menu, please,” Loki requested.

“The kitchen is open for half an hour longer,” the maître d’ informed him, and Loki thanked her.

Fire chicken.  Acramantula eggs.  Duck.

“Acramantula eggs,” Harry decided, setting aside the menu.  “You can’t get that in the Muggle world.”

“You cultivate the Muggle world?” Loki asked, setting his menu aside before setting his wand in a ring and placing their order.

“My father, though a pureblood, lives seamlessly in both the Muggle and the wizarding worlds.  He’s quite well known in the Muggle world, in fact.”

“How fascinating,” Loki mused, as he took a sip of his sparkling water.  “It’s difficult to switch back and forth.”

“I don’t think so,” Harry argued.  “You just have to remember where you are.”

Loki leaned forward.  “Is that how you find it?”

Something tugged on Harry’s mind.  “Don’t you—also—”  The thought slipped away from him.  “You have to be careful with what you wear.”

“That’s just fashion choice,” Loki agreed.  He smiled at Harry.  “Tell me, Master Howard, I can’t remember the latest study I recently read on the subject,” his eyes flashed green, “how far has potions come with enabling male pregnancy?”

Harry startled.  “I—”  He cleared his throat.  “Well, the Gnascum potion makes it possible.  It’s extremely expensive and they recommend you take it under the care of a healer.  You have to also both wish for a child for the potion to be activated.”

“Is that it?” Loki asked, almost to himself.  He waved his hand over Harry.  “You are calm.”

Harry visibly relaxed and took a sip of his sparkling water.  “What brings you here from Norway?”

“There was a light.  It’s been growing and it was bright enough today for me to follow.”  Loki looked at Harry over his glass.  “I followed it.”

Harry blinked.  “What kind of light?”

“The magical kind.”

Their dishes came and Harry welcomed the distraction.  He picked up his spoon and was about to scoop his acramantula eggs when it clicked in his head, “You followed the light?  To me?  What kind of spell were you casting?”

Loki cut through his fire chicken.  “The kind you cast when you’ve been alone for a very long time.”

“You can’t have been alone for longer than thirty—”  Loki Odinson.  Harry put down his utensils.  It all clicked in his head.  “I need—I find I must—”  He stood and set down his napkin before leaving the way he came.  He could hear Loki calling out after him, but Harry was glad Loki didn’t follow him.  Harry knew he could.  Harry knew he would, but he had a few moments of space where he was trying to regulate his breathing.

Harry took the fireplaces home and was glad to find his dad there.

“Well?” Tony asked when he came out of his lab.  “Did you find your textbook?”

“Er—no.” Harry answered.  “Aldric never showed.”

“What?” Tony asked in confusion.  “That’s not like him.”

Harry hushed his father.  “You know the Norse myths.”

“Yes, Odin, Thor, Loki—”

“Loki Odinson found me today.  I think he wants me to be his mate or his consort or something—He let me leave when I realized what he was getting at—”  Harry ran a hand down his face. 

“Loki Odinson,” Tony checked as he sat down, taking this all in.  “What did he say?”

“That he followed the magic to me, that it had been getting brighter until today he could follow it.  That he didn’t want to be alone anymore.  He wanted to know about the Gnascum potion.”

“Fuck!” Tony swore, looking over at his son.  “We’re going under fidelius.”

“We can’t go under fidelius—”

“Of course, we can go under fidelius,” Tony argued.  “Pepper just won’t be able to find us.  So what?”

Harry breathed out through his nose.  “He’s going to find me.  At Ilvermorny, when I go out… something.”

Tony looked like he was thinking.  Like always he was in designer jeans and a band t-shirt.  Harry and Tony couldn’t look any different even though they were obviously father and son.  “We’ll stand on the beach and see if he finds us.”  He nodded.  “We’ll perform magic so you shine brighter.”

“But you just said—”

“I’ve negotiated contracts for decades,” Tony told Harry as he came up to him and put a hand on his shoulder.  “Surely I can negotiate with a Norse myth.”

Harry’s breath was little more than a rattle, but he nodded.

They went out to the beach and had a mock duel mainly with tickling hexes.  They were throwing sand at each other when Loki appeared at the far side of the beach and Tony stopped, pulling Harry toward him. 

“Loki Odinson,” he greeted, offering his hand.  “I’m Tony Stark.”

“Your reputation precedes you.”

“As does yours.”  The wizard and the god stared at each other.  Then Tony turned to Harry.  “You go inside, Harry.  This is a discussion between men.”

“It’s my life—”

“And I’ll seek your approval before I agree to anything.”  He tussled Harry’s hair and sent him back into the Malibu mansion.  Harry stood by the windows, watching the two figures on the beach, wondering what direction their conversation was taking.  They seemed to talk for hours, when finally one figure turned back to the house and the other disappeared in what seemed like a folding of air.

“Well,” Tony greeted, pouring himself a glass of bottled water.  “It’s like this.  Loki thinks you’re his soulmate.”

Harry swallowed.  How could he be a Norse god’s soulmate?

“Now, given this would make you a prince of Asgard, I agreed to marriage dates, where he gets to convince you without mind tricks and magic that you want to be a prince of Asgard.”

“Assuming I even want that, what about your heir?” Harry asked in confusion.

“They’re making a surrogacy potion.  I can get another heir,” Tony waved off.  “You will always be my firstborn son, but your happiness comes first.  If you’re really soulmates, I want you to have this.  Lily—the gods help me—was not my soulmate, but she sucked the life out of me.  I don’t want that for you.”  He came up to Harry and looked into his eyes.  “Now, do you want to give this a shot?  Or would you rather not?”

Harry looked up at his father and realized he honestly had no idea.

The End.