#fyeahloki

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“I won’t need ink? What exactly, then, will I be writing?” Loki’s voice, smooth as silk though it was, seemed restrained. He regarded the bright pink office with derision, and the toad-like woman behind the desk in front of him with barely-concealed cold hatred. Outwardly, he was calm. Save for a small twitch next to his left eye, you couldn’t tell that he was angry.

“’I must not tell lies’ should suffice, I believe,” Umbridge said. Her tone was saccharine, and she took a sip from the kitten-printed teacup she held in one hand.

Loki sat back in his chair, brows rising as he regarded the woman with a skeptical gaze. “Which lie does this refer to, if I may ask?” he inquired.

“Oh, I think you know,” the woman gave him a patronizing look over the rim of her teacup, and the seventh-year bristled.

“What, that I believe Potter when he says He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back? For once in my life I’m telling the truth when I say that,” Loki let the ghost of a sneer play at his lips, directed fully at the horrific woman he currently served detention with. “You know, I almost think I shouldn’t be the one writing lines here. Maybe you should; something in the vein of ‘I must not keep my head so far up-

A blinding, white hot pain burst into the Slytherin’s mind as he spoke. His face felt as though it were on fire, blistering and stabbing like a thousand pierces of a needle into his skin. He tried to cry out, gripping at his shaggy black bangs with white knuckles, and found that he couldn’t open his mouth. The pain quickly dulled to a deep and terrible burn, flaring up again every time Loki tried to open his mouth. His fingers brushed across his lips, and his green eyes widened as he felt crisscrossing twine all across his mouth.

“I think that’s quite enough out of you, Mr. Odinson. If you could write your lines, I will remove the spell when you feel the message has sufficiently sunk in,” Umbridge looked smug behind her kitten-printed teacup, which she sipped at daintily as though she hadn’t just sewn a seventh year’s mouth shut. “I honestly expect a bit more from Slytherin house, you know,” she continued, either unaware or unaffected by the horrifically dirty look Loki gave her.

Picking up the black feather quill, the seventeen-year-old began to write in a nigh-unreadable sanguine cursive.

I will always tell lies. I will always tell lies. I will always tell lies. I will always tell lies…

Quietly (but not without matching, scheming grins) the two identical redheaded boys waited their turn to sit under the Sorting Hat. They wore pointed black caps and matching black robes; the uniform pants underneath them rolled up and hemmed several times over. In unison they turned to the boy next to them, still grinning. The boy’s dark eyebrows drew together in confusion at the looks.

“What?” the boy asked.

“I’m Fred,” one of the redheads said, holding out a hand to shake. His brother elbowed him, sticking out his tongue.

“You’re not Fred, I am!” he said, proffering his own hand to the other boy in lieu of his brother’s. “Don’t mind George, he’s not all there if y’know what I mean,” this second part was whispered conspiratorially, though loud enough for the other twin to hear. The two boys shook hands, the black-haired boy smiling happily and giving a small laugh.

“Odinson, Loki,” Professor McGonagall called out from her scroll. The black haired boy gave another smile to the twins, gesturing to the stool and the hat that the woman held.

“That’s me, then,” he said, and headed up the steps.

When the boy’s face fell as the hat called out “Slytherin!” before it even touched his head, Fred and George Weasley decided that they really didn’t care what house he happened to be in.

~~~~~

A crowd of students, teachers, ghosts and Inquisitors surrounded the three boys. Above them, circling one of the grand light fixtures of the hall while cackling madly, was Peeves. Loki’s hand clenched tightly around his wand (seventeen inches, Tilia, whippy, with a dragon heartstring core), wary of the triumphant looks on the faces of the Inquisitors around them. Fred and George stood on either side of him, and the three boys seemed to be very much cornered.

“So… You think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?” Several steps up the stairs from where they stood, a vision of pink and ugly by the name of Dolores Umbridge stood. She regarded the three boys with a disdainful look down her squashed nose.

“Pretty amusing, yeah,” Fred was the first of the three to speak. He and his twin looked completely without fear; despite facing down what they knew would be a very harsh punishment if they ever got caught after this little jaunt.

“I was pushing for shaving the first years’ heads, personally,” Loki said with a smile and a shrug. “But in the end it was a unanimous decision to test the Portable Swamp instead.” Umbridge fixed the dark-haired Slytherin with a heavy glare and crossed her arms. She didn’t even uncross them or acknowledge Filch as he elbowed his way to her side through the crowd, waving a few papers and yelling about whippings.

“You three are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school,” Umbridge ground out. Beside Loki, Fred took a half-step forward and smiled.

“You know what? I don’t think we are,” he turned to his twin and their (against all unspoken house rules) Slytherin best friend. “Gentlemen, I believe we’ve outgrown full-time education,” he said.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Loki nodded.

“Yeah, I’ve been feeling that way myself,” George agreed.

“I say we take our leave of this particular institution,” Loki added.

“Test our talents in the real world?” Fred asked of the two of them.

“Most certainly,” both Loki and George answered.

And before Umbridge or anyone else could do anything about it, the three seventh-year boys raised their wands above their heads and said in unison, “Accio Brooms!”

~~~~~

As the shield went up around the school, turning the night sky into a web of beautiful light and shimmering spots, three men stood on the parapet of the roof of the castle. They leaned on the stone wall in front of them, surveying the grounds and the forest beyond them with small half-smiles on their faces.

“Never thought I’d end up back here,” Loki was the first to speak. His wand was shoved behind his ear and his shaggy black hair tied into a small low ponytail. His bangs were still free, though, and they whipped about in the small breezes that the early May night provided. “Especially not with Snape in charge and Death Eaters all over.”

“True enough,” George nodded. “This may very well be the end of it though, you know.”

“I do know,” Loki said. “It won’t be too much longer before we’re up to our ears in Dark Wizards and other such unsavory creatures.” He paused a moment before he looked over at George. “You should fare better than me and Fred though; you’ve only got one ear for them to get up to.”

“I ‘ear ya!” George laughed, shoving at his friend’s shoulder with one hand. Their laughter petered out into a comfortable silence. As it continued on, George turned to his uncharacteristically quiet twin.

“Y’alright, Freddie?” he asked. Fred turned and looked at him, flashing a small half-smile.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he nodded.

“Good,” George affirmed.

The three wizards, without much else to say, lapsed back into silence. This time it was heavy, weighing at their chests and minds like a curse. As the first magical lights began to shoot towards the dome protecting the school, Loki reached up and pulled his wand out from behind his ear.