Chapter 82: Side-Effect!
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Finally, he turned his clothes into a black business suit, conjured himself a pair of sunglasses, and cast an illusion that would age him slightly, so he appeared to be in his mid-twenties.
They were a backup plan; he didn't plan on being seen at all.
He buried his broomstick under a foot of sand and made towards the crash site, going over his plan.
He had an idea as to what he might do to Mjolnir as to prevent Thor from getting it, but he knew he couldn't do it now.
No, that would mess up the timeline: Loki knew that Thor would manage to get back to Asgard with the hammer, so that he could destroy the Bifrost with it, thusly condemning Loki to his current—or future, if one looked at it like that—state.
Still, he could ensure that he got the hammer a bit later, when he no longer knew what was going to happen and therefore could do whatever he wanted…probably.
Harry reached the chain link fence that had been hastily erected around the crash site. With a flick of his wand, he separated a few of the bindings, making a hole big enough for him to move to the other side.
He crouched through the gap and fixed it once on the other side. Once he had reinforced his spells, he moved through, cautious and slow.
He wished he could've waited until night, but he knew that wasn't an option: Thor would be there, and it would be raining—his footsteps would show up in the mud.
And so he persevered, moving through an entrance into the maze of white tents and slinking forward.
Two male voices sounded ahead of him, and he froze at the corner, praying to himself that his spell would hold. It did. The two men moved on past without as much as a glance in his direction.
Harry let out a breath he had been holding and continued onwards, keeping his footsteps as quiet as possible.
With how slow he was moving, it took him a few minutes to get through the maze of tents, even though he could sense exactly where the hammer was.
Upon reaching it, he smiled. 'Think I'm worthy?'
'Yes,' said Loki, 'of course you are. Much like Odin, you are a self-obsessed psychopath who cares for no one but himself.'
'Yes, but it's Thor's hammer, not Odin's, even if created it.'
Loki snorted. 'Odin probably stole it from the Vanir or somebody. And you're like Thor as well: arrogant, rash and idiotic.'
'Wait, so you're jealous of me and Thor?'
'That's not quite what I was—'
'The Loki doth protest too much, methinks.'
'Oh no,' Loki deadpanned. 'You have seen straight through me. Because of my childhood trauma, I am not as arrogant, rash and idiotic as I would've liked to be. Also, I am not blond, which I wish I could be.'
Harry grinned. 'Don't worry, Loki. You are an idiot. That was a tautology, you see. You already said you wanted to be idiotic.'
'Alas, you have seen through me once more. You are truly a genius.'
'Surprising, isn't it? You know, seeing as though you were the one who raised me.'
'Will this torrent of insults never end? I have already been burnt to cinder, by your spoon-sharp wit.'
Harry frowned. 'Spoons aren't that dull. I could probably stab someone to death with one—like that time I stabbed someone with a baseball bat to see if it counted as a stake and killed vampires.'
'A side-effect of super-strength,' Loki said. The room was now clear of people. 'Now, speaking of super-strength, let's get back to hammer.'
Harry nodded and made his way forward; it might not be long until someone came in. He put up a few muggle-repelling charms just be sure that no one did.
Still, with how good SHIELD's reputation was, someone here would be enough of a genius to figure out they were being mind-controlled; he would have to work fast.
Luckily, this plan had been in the works for a while—stealing Thor's hammer was possibly the best prank that one could ever play; it would also make it easier to defeat him should it ever be needed.
The plan had been quite a bit of work, involving Harry learning from Dumbledore how to make Portkeys, refining his ability to create portals and almost blowing himself up on multiple occasions.
Resisting the urge to touch the hammer—who knew what affect its magic might have on Harry's chameleon spell?—he removed a small magnetic strip, laden with spells, from his pocket and stuck it to the bottom of the hammer, near the handle.
It was almost invisible; you could only see it if you knew what you were looking for. That might not be enough, though, so Harry melted the edges until it was completely flush with the metal.
With a wave of his wand, Harry short-circuited all of the room's cameras. And then he placed his finger on the now-melted metal strip and reinforced the spells which had been damaged by the hammer's magic and his own. A few seconds later, it was done, and he was collapsing backwards, invisibility dispelled.
Boots pounded in the corridor outside, rushing to see what had caused the cameras to go out.
Harry smiled and apparated away. A moment later, he reappeared on the hill in which he had buried his broom. He took a second to fight back rising vomit, before digging up his broom and climbing astride it. Now, all he had to do was wait until the next day.
Twenty-six hours and forty-three minutes later, Harry sat in a ritual circle on an island a few thousand kilometres south of Japan.
Runes were carved into the dirt all around him, and he sat cross-legged, eyes closed, and jaw clenched in concentration.
He and Loki worked in tandem, weaving intricate threads as they steeled their will and used it to force their magic upon an item so far away that the distance was incalculable. Perhaps it was trillions of kilometres, or perhaps it was infinity.
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