The light faded, and with it went the hum that had held the world still. The sky folded back into its gray shell, the mist drifting once more across the soaked fields.
Loki stood where he had landed, straightening his cloak with his hands.
"Well," he said, calm and pleased, "the letters reached his desk. They should be on their way by now."
Beside him, Angrboda turned, giving him that look, questioning the 'Old man?'
She didn't speak of course.
She thought better of it.
But I will.
Old man?
This god was so old, even dinosaurs would have felt like toddlers beside him.
And here he is, talking as if Dumbledore is the one living for eternity.
Maybe it's the appearance that matters.
Maybe, with Idunn's apples keeping them young, they can afford to toss the word "old" around however they like.
So perhaps, just perhaps, Loki has a point.
Loki ignored her stare, raising a hand to test the air.
The air trembled for a second, then snapped back to stillness.
A faint hum came from the golden cuffs at his wrists. It was barely audible, but enough to make him lower his hand with irritation and resignation.
Angrboda's eyes flicked to the cuffs. "He still doesn't trust you."
"He never did.' Loki brushed an invisible speck from his sleeve. "Odin likes his toys with limits."
Angrboda's gaze lingered on the spot. "Then he will be watching."
He looked down at the faint glimmer still fading from his wrist and gave a short laugh. "Well, yes he will," Loki said. "It's no fun if we went all out anyways."
Angrboda's brow lifted slightly. "So that's why you put a lock on me too?"
"Indeed," he said smoothly. "We don't want you wrecking things around, do we? Besides- " he looked up, that familiar grin finding its way back " -fun, darling. Half the charm is restraint."
Angrboda shook her head, "You are enjoying this too much."
Loki tilted his head, eyes glinting faintly. "You make it sound like you weren't in on it. I told you, this is supposed to be a holiday."
"A holiday," she repeated flatly.
"A second honeymoon, if you like." He gestured lazily toward the gray horizon. "Different realm, new scenery, a little chaos for spice. Perfect dish."
Angrboda folded her arms, trying but failing to hide the faint curve of her smile. "Most couples go to warmer places."
He smiled wider. "Ah, but... " He paused, his eyes looking directly into hers, " most couples aren't us."
He's hot a point, you know.
Angrboda nodded, "That's true. By the way, what address did you put for us?"
He blinked, expression almost innocent immediately. "A random street. But they will reach us. You shouldn't worry abou- "
A sharp crack split the air.
A burst of green light flared beside him, lighting the mist from within.
Two envelopes materialized, perfectly sealed, and drifted down into his palm.
Loki grinned, tilting his head. "See? Right on schedule."
Angrboda's gaze landed on the letters.
Loki turned his head, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. "He wanted new students. I gave him two."
Her expression didn't change, but the smallest hint of a sigh escaped her. "You meddled with the Headmaster of Midgard's most guarded institution."
Loki's tone was mockingly innocent. "Meddled? I call it talent." He continued, " and it's just Midgard. "
Loki turned the envelopes over in his hand, studying the wax seal and admiring the forgery.
Angrboda watched him for a moment before reaching for hers. The parchment felt unnaturally clean, the seal unbroken and dry despite the rain.
She brushed her thumb across the crest... lion, serpent, eagle, and badger circling a bold H.
Her brow creased. "This is… mortal craftsmanship?"
Loki smiled. "Mortals with very good taste."
She broke the seal and unfolded the letter. Her eyes scanned the lines, voice soft as she read aloud:
> Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore…
She paused, looking at him sideways. He gestured for her to continue, clearly enjoying himself.
> Dear Miss Boda,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September first. We await your owl by no later than July thirty first.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress.
When she finished, the letter hung loosely in her hand. "You have got to be joking," she said flatly.
Loki broke his own seal and skimmed his letter. "No, they are very thorough. Look " he pointed in the latter, " we await your owl. Imagine the panic when no owl arrives."
Angrboda blinked, expression unreadable. "You really sent these yourself?"
"I just adjusted the delivery system a bit," Loki said with a light shrug.
She folded the letter sharply. "You used trickery to join a mortal school."
He slipped his hand into his cloak. "It's called blending in."
"Blending in," she repeated slowly. "On a continent where people worship Aesir on a daily basis."
Loki's grin widened. He put a finger on his lips, and spoke softly, " shhh ". His voice, barely audible, "We don't talk about that."
She lowered the parchment slowly, the corners still crisp from the fold. Her eyes flicked from the seal to the signature and then, finally, again to the names.
"Miss Andra Boda," she read aloud, voice flat. Then she glanced at the second letter still in Loki's hand. "And Loken Vale."
"What's with the names?"
Loki arched an eyebrow, "What? You wanted to go with the real ones?"
Angrboda's silence said enough.
He smiled, flicking a speck of dust from the corner of his letter. "We can't have the mortals choking on Angrboda, Mother of Monsters, in their morning roll call, can we?"
She didn't respond right away. The mist shifted between them, soft and thin, and for a moment they simply stood in it.
Then Angrboda's eyes drifted to the letters still in his hand. "And I suppose this is your idea of interesting?"
"Now you're catching on."
She folded the letter neatly and tucked it under her arm. "Feels stupid."
"Precisely," Loki said, satisfied. "We will fit right in."