Fic: Agents of W.A.N.D.
Harry Potter snagged another ginger newt biscuit from the tartan plate on the Headmistress’s desk, watching Head Auror Robards pace the room in agitation as portraits of former Heads of Hogwarts looked on in curiosity.
“As soon as Headmistress McGonagall returns from the Hallowe’en feast we’ll be able to brief you, Mr Potter. I appreciate you being available to consult on this situation at such short notice.”
Harry nodded in acknowledgement, used to DMLE officials and their reticence in discussing ongoing cases. Ron was dreadfully tightlipped about his Auror caseload until you got a few drinks in him. Then he and Hermione usually had trouble shutting him up.
Harry had only been in the Auror training programme for a couple of months when he’d become so fed up with the fawning of his fellow trainees (and occasionally his trainers) that he’d decided to leave the Ministry and specialize in magical artifacts instead. His experience with the Horcruxes had stood him in good stead during his time at the Unseen University. Ron had thought he was crazy and wasn’t happy when Hermione joined him as a researcher after they both graduated from UU, but he’d got over it eventually. Just a few short years later, Harry was now considered one of the foremost experts in the field and his company frequently operated as a consultant for the Ministry. Hermione was currently on maternity leave with Harry’s goddaughter, Rose, otherwise she would have been there with him.
Harry and Robards looked up at the sound of stone grinding on stone as the door opened to reveal Headmistress McGonagall and the slowly-circling staircase behind her.
“Ah, gentlemen, thank you for coming. Apologies for the wait - the children are always more excitable with all the sugar of the Hallowe’en Feast and it took some time to get them all safely off to bed.”
“Not a problem, Headmistress. Perhaps you can explain why we’re here - Mr Potter hasn’t been briefed yet.”
“Of course, Auror Robards. Harry, I do hope you’ll be patient with me - I’ve invited another consultant in on this situation, as I suspect it may be related to his area of expertise. He should be here any min…”
The Headmistress broke off as the flames in the fireplace flared blue, indicating an international floo call, and a distantly familiar voice drawled a request for the wards to be raised. Minerva promptly lifted her wand and a tall, fit, male body spun gracefully out of the fireplace. Harry’s jaw dropped as he stared, mesmerised, as an elegant hand brushed soot off a perfectly delicious arse encased in the tightest outfit he’d ever seen (including that time Hermione had dragged him to London Pride and he’d nearly had palpitations at the sheer amount of lycra, leather, glitter, feathers and skin on display in Trafalgar Square on a Saturday afternoon).
“Malfoy?! What the hell are you doing here?” Robards exclaimed with a frown, causing Harry to drag his eyes swiftly up the beautiful body before him to a familiar smirk and a pair of grey eyes that winked at his blatant perusal. Harry blushed.
“Head Auror Robards, Potter, I am here at the Headmistress’s invitation,” Draco Malfoy nodded in acknowledgement before smiling widely (smiling!) at Headmistress McGonagall, clasping her hand and bowing over it. “Minerva, a delight as always. How may W.A.N.D. be of assistance?”
“Welcome back, Draco. We’ve had a bit of an incident and I think it might be related to your lot.”
“Oh?”
“We’ve had three students disappear from the middle of the Gryffindor common room earlier today. Their parents have been informed and we called the DMLE immediately.” McGonagall indicated Robards impatiently, who was grumbling unhappily about a Malfoy being on British soil.
“And Potter and I are here because…?”
“According to witnesses, the students were arguing over the Sword of Gryffindor when they disappeared.”
“Ah, I see. Bloody Sif.”
Harry, who had been distracted by the way the deep navy colour of Malfoy’s outfit highlighted his hair and seemed to make his pale skin glow, frowned at the strange curse.
“What’s a sif?”
“Not what, who. Sif, Potter, is someone who is going to get yelled at rather a lot, if what I think has happened is what has actually happened. Minerva, how reliable are these witnesses? And how likely is it that this was the real sword and not the replica?”
“The students were able to describe the sword in detail and I’ve already checked with Gringotts - the replica is still in their vaults.” McGonagall sighed. “To be honest, considering who the missing students are, I am not in the least surprised if they somehow managed to obtain the actual sword. They are more trouble than Harry and his compatriots combined were when they were here.”
“Who are they?” Harry asked, feeling slightly embarrassed at being considered one of the school’s standards against which troublemakers were measured.
“Augustus Pylle, Eleanor Lydford and Clementine Friggle. Best friends and, unfortunately for us, a Slytherin, a Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor. Combined they are far too eager to use their brains and cunning before thinking all the consequences through, as many of the teachers can attest to. More than once has the school suffered as a result of their ‘experiments’ - last year the Quidditch pitch nearly sank into a crater they accidentally created when trying to amplify a displacement hex. Unfortunately detention just seems to give them time to come up with new ideas, even when we discipline them separately.”
Malfoy was frowning.
”Minerva, you know I’ll do all I can to help but I need to be sure this is related - Director Peters won’t appreciate resources being wasted unnecessarily. Could we perhaps go to the Common Room? I can run some diagnostics to check.”
“Of course. Right this way, gentlemen.” McGonagall strode towards the staircase with Robards hot on her heels, glaring back at Malfoy regularly as he no doubt complained to the Headmistress about his presence. Malfoy smirked at him in response.
“What’s W.A.N.D.?” Harry enquired, as they moved to follow the Headmistress and the agitated Head Auror.
“Mmmm? Oh, it’s the Wizardry, Alchemy and Necromancy Department of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. That’s S.H.I.E.L.D. - you might have heard of them in the wake of the events in New York a couple of years ago.”
“Oh! Wow, really? You work for them? What do you do?”
“A bit of everything. They recruited me straight out of Eighth-year and I was nothing more than a glorified tea boy for the first six months. Better than anything that would have been offered to me here, though, and I worked my way up soon enough. It helps that they think I can’t make a decent cup to save my life - I was promoted to save their taste buds.” He smirked secretively and Harry couldn’t help but laugh at this mischievous, confident (hot!) version of the Malfoy he remembered.
“Have you met Captain America then? Is he…?” Harry asked eagerly.
“Yes. And before you ask - yes, he really is as hot as he looks on the news. Just don’t let Stark hear you say that - man is like a jealous, petulant 5-year-old with a new toy.”
Harry grinned in response as they caught up with the others as they reached the Gryffindor Tower entrance.
*****
Harry had been watching Malfoy in fascination for the past ten minutes as he’d cast an unending series of non-verbal spells that he couldn’t identify from the wand movements. He was beginning to wonder why he was here, as Malfoy was clearly very competent and in comparison, Harry was feeling a little redundant without an actual magical artifact to work with.
McGonagall was also watching the Agent work and apparently successfully ignoring the continued grumbles of Robards, who was scowling in the corner. She was also keeping a sharp eye on the staircases, to ensure no curious Gryffindors emerged to investigate, despite the sound barrier she’d erected in front of the dormitories.
They all straightened up as Malfoy made a small sound of surprise and abruptly stopped casting.
“It’s definitely the sword, Minerva - those little…idiots managed to trigger one of its original properties.” Draco was clearly biting back some harsher invectives.
“Original properties?”
“Oh dear.”
“Why are we even listening to this Death Eater?!”
Harry struggled to not hex the Head Auror as Malfoy flushed but ignored the insult and answered Harry.
“What do you know about the Sword of Gryffindor, Potter?”
“Umm. Belonged to Godric Gryffindor, said to be created in about 990AD by Ragnuk the First, King of the Goblins, at Gryffindor’s request. It’s made of silver and rubies and, since my second year, is infused with basilisk venom. There’s an ongoing dispute between wizards and goblins over the ownership and it supposedly appears to true Gryffindors at times of great need - it’s definitely appeared to a couple of them in the past few years anyway. I…I think that’s all we know about it?”
“Yes, that’s the publicly available story. What you don’t know, because she was too embarrassed to make it known, is that it’s not entirely true. Ragnuk the First didn’t create the sword and it wasn’t originally Gryffindor’s. The sword belonged to the Lady Sif of Asgard, who gave it as a gift to a certain Hogwarts’ Founder after a…a night of passion, shall we say. The sword was made by dwarves, the Sons of Ivaldi, during a bet with Loki - it was made at the same time as Sif’s headpiece to replace the golden hair Loki had cut off in a fit of jealousy, Odin's spear, Gungnir, the ship Skíðblaðnir, the boar Gullinbursti for Freyr, the multiplying ring, Draupnir, for Odin, and the mighty hammer, Mjöllnir, for Thor. These are all precious possessions of the Asgardian realm and Sif’s sword, Valinir, was chief among them as it possessed the ability to cleave open portals to the other realms. She apparently intended to reclaim the sword after Gryffindor’s death but, when she went to do so, realized the narcissistic bastard had enchanted it, got the goblins to encrust a load of gaudy rubies all over it and inscribed his name on the hilt. Sif was too embarrassed to take it back to the dwarves to get it restored, not least because her brother Heimdall would have taken the piss for the rest of eternity, so she just used her own magic to mask the sword’s true purpose and left it behind to be a Midgardian magical relic.”
“So when you say the idiots triggered it…”
“Yep. They’ve bloody well opened a portal to one of the other realms. Personally, I’m hoping it was to Jotunheim - I’m sure being squished like ants by a few Frost Giants will do their obedience levels a world of good.”
“Agent Malfoy!”
“Apologies, Minerva - I’m just a little irritated. I don’t actually want your students to have frozen to death.” He sighed heavily. “I’m going to have to call in reinforcements on this one - I can identify a portal was opened, but not where to. There are nine realms and multiple dimensions - I suspect only an Asgardian will be able to pinpoint their ultimate destination, which means Thor and…ugh, Thor. I hope that the house elves have a large supply of Pop Tarts®.”
*****
Harry was currently sitting on the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall and attempting to hide his growing excitement, He was going to meet an Avenger. He was going to meet a deity. He was glad he’d put on clean underwear this morning.
Malfoy, having earlier made an exasperated Floo call to Director Pandora Peters of W.A.N.D., was now pacing in agitation around the end of the Hufflepuff table, where the house elves had placed a positively enormous basket of Pop Tarts® to welcome their guests. Harry had had no idea house elves even knew what Pop Tarts® were. Malfoy was muttering dire warnings under his breath, as he apparently didn’t think much of Thor’s ability to not destroy Hogwarts by accident while he was there. Robards, thankfully, had been recalled to the Ministry.
They both turned towards the entrance hall as a great voice boomed out genially,
“Greetings, Draco! The Son of Coul informs me that you need our assistance! AH, POP TARTS®!”
As the beefy blond guy who was apparently a God dived nearly headfirst into the basket on the table, Malfoy rolled his eyes at Harry and stalked forward to greet the arrivals who weren’t already scoffing their faces.
“Agent Coulson, Agent Barton - thank you for coming so quickly. I’m glad that you didn’t bring the whole team.”
“Agent Malfoy,” a handsome middle-aged man in a smart suit greeted. “We thought it wise not to bring Banner in case he hulked out, you know he doesn’t deal well with your sarcasm, stinging hexes or magic generally - Widow stayed behind to keep him company, as Director Fury has been reminiscing about how he lost his eye because of a rogue wand recently and she didn’t want to suffer the same fate. Stark was going to come until it was pointed out that, due to the interference of the magical fields here, the Iron Man suit would be little better than a very heavy metal coffin - he was sulking when we took off in the Quinjet.”
“But I’m sure that Cap has ways to keep him distracted while we’re away,” snickered the guy next to him in purple leather with a bow and quiver on his back, and Coulson smirked in agreement.
“Aye! My Jane assures me that Captain Rogers has many charms to entertain a Man of Iron! Only today I heard him mentioning a game involving a swing!” Thor stated, emerging from a pile of crumbs. Purple leather guy choked.
Harry, who had been rather busy admiring the beautiful biceps of the archer, was abruptly elbowed by Malfoy.
“This is a colleague, Harry Potter, and the Headmistress of the school, Minerva McGonagall. This is Agent Phil Coulson, Agent Clint Barton and, of course, Thor, God of Thunder.”
As the others shook hands, Thor clapped Harry heavily on the shoulder, causing his knees to wobble.
“Greetings, Harry Potter! Draco has told me much of your exploits! You were victorious in your battle against one of the descendants of Jormungand, he has said!”
“Errr,” Harry responded uncertainly.
“He means the basilisk, Potter.”
“Oh, yes! Very lucky with that one - nearly didn’t survive the venom.”
“I myself was fated to die after defeating Jormungand! Only through the trickery of the Allfather Odin did I succeed! We are brethren, Harry Potter! Victors in the war against Serpents!”
“Uh, sure. Sounds go-ood.” The end of Harry’s sentence was rather strangled as he was picked up in Thor’s enormous arms and squeezed thoroughly.
“Put him down, Thor, before you break him.” Clint grinned, poking the god in the ribs.
“You okay?” murmured Malfoy, as Harry staggered once back on the ground.
“Fine!” Harry wheezed.
“Well, gentlemen,” McGonagall interrupted stridently, “Now that we’ve all been introduced, we should probably get on with things before I have any more parents hammering on my door demanding answers. It seems that three of our students have used the Lady Sif’s sword to open a portal to another place. We are hoping that you will be able to identify where they ended up and retrieve them before they, or the realm they’re in, end up damaged. Shall we proceed?”
*****
“So what you’re saying is…dwarves?” clarified Harry, as they stood in a loose circle in the middle of the Gryffindor Common Room.
“Aye! Or Rock Trolls! The conflicting magic caused the sword to return to its origin, the realm of Nidavellir! We must hope that the sword took them to its creator, Sindri, or his brothers! If they were found by the Rock Trolls, they are likely dead or enslaved!”
“No need to sound quite so cheery about the death of my students, Mr Thor.”
“Oh, he’s not happy about it - that’s just the way he speaks, Headmistress.” McGonagall looked a little appeased by Malfoy’s statement, but a worried frown remained.
“Is it possible to get them back safely, do you think?”
“Aye! As long as they’re with the dwarves! Draco and I…”
“And Potter. He’s had experience with the sword before so it might be safest in his hands,” Malfoy interrupted quickly. Thor nodded.
“Draco, Harry Potter and I will go to Asgard and from there to Nidavellir and invoke the assistance of the Sons of Ivaldi. If they have the little Midgardians with them, they will surrender them to me immediately.”
Harry, who was both nervous and excited about travelling to other realms, thought that this plan rather lacked detail. He refrained from commenting however, aware that McGonagall might point out that at least they had a plan, which is more than could be said of some of Harry’s past exploits.
*****
“There was no need to be quite so flirtatious, Potter. I’m sure Heimdall would have helped us get here anyway, if only because we were accompanying Thor. No need to offer to handle his ‘magical artifacts’ in recompense.”
Malfoy had been going on in this vein for quite some time and Harry was rather glad they were finally approaching the mountain settlement of the dwarves on Nidavellir.
“He has beautiful eyes though, doesn’t he?” Harry said, amused.
“Well! Bit over the top, if you ask me! Not all of us need magical, glowing eyes, golden armour and the ability to see for a hundred leagues just to be attractive.”
“Indeed you don’t,” murmured Harry, whose eyes had again been drawn to the way Draco’s backside moved in his jumpsuit as he strode along.
“What? Oh. Oh!” Draco peered at Harry as he raised his gaze back up to his face. “Well, then. Stop flirting with every half-decent man and/or alien you see and ask me out, you moron. After this mission is complete, obviously. Idiotic schoolchildren must take priority over our social lives. Sadly.”
Harry grinned.
*****
Thankfully the dwarves had been rather delighted by their Midgardian guests and not sold them off to the Rock Trolls. In fact, Augustus and Clementine appeared to have spent their captivity teaching Brokkr and Eitri a new version of Rock, Paper, Scissors entitled ‘Ore, Parchment, Hammer’. Meanwhile, Eleanor and Sindri had been ‘repairing’ the sword by removing all the garish rubies and reworking the enchantments. Harry ended up working with them as the Valinir still seemed to recognize him as a True Gryffindor and kept reappearing in his hands every time he put it down. The children had been reluctant to leave, in all honesty, until they realized they would get to travel home via the Bifröst with the God of Thunder. They would have bragging rights at Hogwarts for eons.
After returning the children safely to Hogwarts, for thorough scoldings from their parents and as many detentions as McGonagall could legitimately devise, Malfoy saw Thor off the premises with many thanks for his assistance and a gift basket of Pop Tarts®. Agents Barton and Coulson accompanied him, though reluctantly in Barton’s case as he had had a great time practicing his archery by playing with the Giant Squid. Coulson had needed to whisper some sort of promise into the other man’s ear that had made him grin wickedly before he had agreed to leave.
Once everyone else had left, Draco and Harry remained in the Entrance Hall smiling at each other.
“Well, I’d better head back to Switzerland to make my report to Director Peters or there will be hell to pay.”
“Okay, sure. Would…er, would you like to come to mine for dinner on Saturday? 7 o’clock?”
“Definitely,” Draco grinned, “Just let me have your Floo address?”
Harry wrote it down quickly on a piece of parchment and handed it over.
“See you then, Potter.” Draco turned and started to climb the stairs back to McGonagall’s office and her Floo.
“Oh, and Draco,” Harry called. Draco turned to look back at him and Harry gave him a top-to-toe leer that made him shiver in anticipation,
“Wear the jumpsuit.”
The End
“As soon as Headmistress McGonagall returns from the Hallowe’en feast we’ll be able to brief you, Mr Potter. I appreciate you being available to consult on this situation at such short notice.”
Harry nodded in acknowledgement, used to DMLE officials and their reticence in discussing ongoing cases. Ron was dreadfully tightlipped about his Auror caseload until you got a few drinks in him. Then he and Hermione usually had trouble shutting him up.
Harry had only been in the Auror training programme for a couple of months when he’d become so fed up with the fawning of his fellow trainees (and occasionally his trainers) that he’d decided to leave the Ministry and specialize in magical artifacts instead. His experience with the Horcruxes had stood him in good stead during his time at the Unseen University. Ron had thought he was crazy and wasn’t happy when Hermione joined him as a researcher after they both graduated from UU, but he’d got over it eventually. Just a few short years later, Harry was now considered one of the foremost experts in the field and his company frequently operated as a consultant for the Ministry. Hermione was currently on maternity leave with Harry’s goddaughter, Rose, otherwise she would have been there with him.
Harry and Robards looked up at the sound of stone grinding on stone as the door opened to reveal Headmistress McGonagall and the slowly-circling staircase behind her.
“Ah, gentlemen, thank you for coming. Apologies for the wait - the children are always more excitable with all the sugar of the Hallowe’en Feast and it took some time to get them all safely off to bed.”
“Not a problem, Headmistress. Perhaps you can explain why we’re here - Mr Potter hasn’t been briefed yet.”
“Of course, Auror Robards. Harry, I do hope you’ll be patient with me - I’ve invited another consultant in on this situation, as I suspect it may be related to his area of expertise. He should be here any min…”
The Headmistress broke off as the flames in the fireplace flared blue, indicating an international floo call, and a distantly familiar voice drawled a request for the wards to be raised. Minerva promptly lifted her wand and a tall, fit, male body spun gracefully out of the fireplace. Harry’s jaw dropped as he stared, mesmerised, as an elegant hand brushed soot off a perfectly delicious arse encased in the tightest outfit he’d ever seen (including that time Hermione had dragged him to London Pride and he’d nearly had palpitations at the sheer amount of lycra, leather, glitter, feathers and skin on display in Trafalgar Square on a Saturday afternoon).
“Malfoy?! What the hell are you doing here?” Robards exclaimed with a frown, causing Harry to drag his eyes swiftly up the beautiful body before him to a familiar smirk and a pair of grey eyes that winked at his blatant perusal. Harry blushed.
“Head Auror Robards, Potter, I am here at the Headmistress’s invitation,” Draco Malfoy nodded in acknowledgement before smiling widely (smiling!) at Headmistress McGonagall, clasping her hand and bowing over it. “Minerva, a delight as always. How may W.A.N.D. be of assistance?”
“Welcome back, Draco. We’ve had a bit of an incident and I think it might be related to your lot.”
“Oh?”
“We’ve had three students disappear from the middle of the Gryffindor common room earlier today. Their parents have been informed and we called the DMLE immediately.” McGonagall indicated Robards impatiently, who was grumbling unhappily about a Malfoy being on British soil.
“And Potter and I are here because…?”
“According to witnesses, the students were arguing over the Sword of Gryffindor when they disappeared.”
“Ah, I see. Bloody Sif.”
Harry, who had been distracted by the way the deep navy colour of Malfoy’s outfit highlighted his hair and seemed to make his pale skin glow, frowned at the strange curse.
“What’s a sif?”
“Not what, who. Sif, Potter, is someone who is going to get yelled at rather a lot, if what I think has happened is what has actually happened. Minerva, how reliable are these witnesses? And how likely is it that this was the real sword and not the replica?”
“The students were able to describe the sword in detail and I’ve already checked with Gringotts - the replica is still in their vaults.” McGonagall sighed. “To be honest, considering who the missing students are, I am not in the least surprised if they somehow managed to obtain the actual sword. They are more trouble than Harry and his compatriots combined were when they were here.”
“Who are they?” Harry asked, feeling slightly embarrassed at being considered one of the school’s standards against which troublemakers were measured.
“Augustus Pylle, Eleanor Lydford and Clementine Friggle. Best friends and, unfortunately for us, a Slytherin, a Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor. Combined they are far too eager to use their brains and cunning before thinking all the consequences through, as many of the teachers can attest to. More than once has the school suffered as a result of their ‘experiments’ - last year the Quidditch pitch nearly sank into a crater they accidentally created when trying to amplify a displacement hex. Unfortunately detention just seems to give them time to come up with new ideas, even when we discipline them separately.”
Malfoy was frowning.
”Minerva, you know I’ll do all I can to help but I need to be sure this is related - Director Peters won’t appreciate resources being wasted unnecessarily. Could we perhaps go to the Common Room? I can run some diagnostics to check.”
“Of course. Right this way, gentlemen.” McGonagall strode towards the staircase with Robards hot on her heels, glaring back at Malfoy regularly as he no doubt complained to the Headmistress about his presence. Malfoy smirked at him in response.
“What’s W.A.N.D.?” Harry enquired, as they moved to follow the Headmistress and the agitated Head Auror.
“Mmmm? Oh, it’s the Wizardry, Alchemy and Necromancy Department of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. That’s S.H.I.E.L.D. - you might have heard of them in the wake of the events in New York a couple of years ago.”
“Oh! Wow, really? You work for them? What do you do?”
“A bit of everything. They recruited me straight out of Eighth-year and I was nothing more than a glorified tea boy for the first six months. Better than anything that would have been offered to me here, though, and I worked my way up soon enough. It helps that they think I can’t make a decent cup to save my life - I was promoted to save their taste buds.” He smirked secretively and Harry couldn’t help but laugh at this mischievous, confident (hot!) version of the Malfoy he remembered.
“Have you met Captain America then? Is he…?” Harry asked eagerly.
“Yes. And before you ask - yes, he really is as hot as he looks on the news. Just don’t let Stark hear you say that - man is like a jealous, petulant 5-year-old with a new toy.”
Harry grinned in response as they caught up with the others as they reached the Gryffindor Tower entrance.
*****
Harry had been watching Malfoy in fascination for the past ten minutes as he’d cast an unending series of non-verbal spells that he couldn’t identify from the wand movements. He was beginning to wonder why he was here, as Malfoy was clearly very competent and in comparison, Harry was feeling a little redundant without an actual magical artifact to work with.
McGonagall was also watching the Agent work and apparently successfully ignoring the continued grumbles of Robards, who was scowling in the corner. She was also keeping a sharp eye on the staircases, to ensure no curious Gryffindors emerged to investigate, despite the sound barrier she’d erected in front of the dormitories.
They all straightened up as Malfoy made a small sound of surprise and abruptly stopped casting.
“It’s definitely the sword, Minerva - those little…idiots managed to trigger one of its original properties.” Draco was clearly biting back some harsher invectives.
“Original properties?”
“Oh dear.”
“Why are we even listening to this Death Eater?!”
Harry struggled to not hex the Head Auror as Malfoy flushed but ignored the insult and answered Harry.
“What do you know about the Sword of Gryffindor, Potter?”
“Umm. Belonged to Godric Gryffindor, said to be created in about 990AD by Ragnuk the First, King of the Goblins, at Gryffindor’s request. It’s made of silver and rubies and, since my second year, is infused with basilisk venom. There’s an ongoing dispute between wizards and goblins over the ownership and it supposedly appears to true Gryffindors at times of great need - it’s definitely appeared to a couple of them in the past few years anyway. I…I think that’s all we know about it?”
“Yes, that’s the publicly available story. What you don’t know, because she was too embarrassed to make it known, is that it’s not entirely true. Ragnuk the First didn’t create the sword and it wasn’t originally Gryffindor’s. The sword belonged to the Lady Sif of Asgard, who gave it as a gift to a certain Hogwarts’ Founder after a…a night of passion, shall we say. The sword was made by dwarves, the Sons of Ivaldi, during a bet with Loki - it was made at the same time as Sif’s headpiece to replace the golden hair Loki had cut off in a fit of jealousy, Odin's spear, Gungnir, the ship Skíðblaðnir, the boar Gullinbursti for Freyr, the multiplying ring, Draupnir, for Odin, and the mighty hammer, Mjöllnir, for Thor. These are all precious possessions of the Asgardian realm and Sif’s sword, Valinir, was chief among them as it possessed the ability to cleave open portals to the other realms. She apparently intended to reclaim the sword after Gryffindor’s death but, when she went to do so, realized the narcissistic bastard had enchanted it, got the goblins to encrust a load of gaudy rubies all over it and inscribed his name on the hilt. Sif was too embarrassed to take it back to the dwarves to get it restored, not least because her brother Heimdall would have taken the piss for the rest of eternity, so she just used her own magic to mask the sword’s true purpose and left it behind to be a Midgardian magical relic.”
“So when you say the idiots triggered it…”
“Yep. They’ve bloody well opened a portal to one of the other realms. Personally, I’m hoping it was to Jotunheim - I’m sure being squished like ants by a few Frost Giants will do their obedience levels a world of good.”
“Agent Malfoy!”
“Apologies, Minerva - I’m just a little irritated. I don’t actually want your students to have frozen to death.” He sighed heavily. “I’m going to have to call in reinforcements on this one - I can identify a portal was opened, but not where to. There are nine realms and multiple dimensions - I suspect only an Asgardian will be able to pinpoint their ultimate destination, which means Thor and…ugh, Thor. I hope that the house elves have a large supply of Pop Tarts®.”
*****
Harry was currently sitting on the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall and attempting to hide his growing excitement, He was going to meet an Avenger. He was going to meet a deity. He was glad he’d put on clean underwear this morning.
Malfoy, having earlier made an exasperated Floo call to Director Pandora Peters of W.A.N.D., was now pacing in agitation around the end of the Hufflepuff table, where the house elves had placed a positively enormous basket of Pop Tarts® to welcome their guests. Harry had had no idea house elves even knew what Pop Tarts® were. Malfoy was muttering dire warnings under his breath, as he apparently didn’t think much of Thor’s ability to not destroy Hogwarts by accident while he was there. Robards, thankfully, had been recalled to the Ministry.
They both turned towards the entrance hall as a great voice boomed out genially,
“Greetings, Draco! The Son of Coul informs me that you need our assistance! AH, POP TARTS®!”
As the beefy blond guy who was apparently a God dived nearly headfirst into the basket on the table, Malfoy rolled his eyes at Harry and stalked forward to greet the arrivals who weren’t already scoffing their faces.
“Agent Coulson, Agent Barton - thank you for coming so quickly. I’m glad that you didn’t bring the whole team.”
“Agent Malfoy,” a handsome middle-aged man in a smart suit greeted. “We thought it wise not to bring Banner in case he hulked out, you know he doesn’t deal well with your sarcasm, stinging hexes or magic generally - Widow stayed behind to keep him company, as Director Fury has been reminiscing about how he lost his eye because of a rogue wand recently and she didn’t want to suffer the same fate. Stark was going to come until it was pointed out that, due to the interference of the magical fields here, the Iron Man suit would be little better than a very heavy metal coffin - he was sulking when we took off in the Quinjet.”
“But I’m sure that Cap has ways to keep him distracted while we’re away,” snickered the guy next to him in purple leather with a bow and quiver on his back, and Coulson smirked in agreement.
“Aye! My Jane assures me that Captain Rogers has many charms to entertain a Man of Iron! Only today I heard him mentioning a game involving a swing!” Thor stated, emerging from a pile of crumbs. Purple leather guy choked.
Harry, who had been rather busy admiring the beautiful biceps of the archer, was abruptly elbowed by Malfoy.
“This is a colleague, Harry Potter, and the Headmistress of the school, Minerva McGonagall. This is Agent Phil Coulson, Agent Clint Barton and, of course, Thor, God of Thunder.”
As the others shook hands, Thor clapped Harry heavily on the shoulder, causing his knees to wobble.
“Greetings, Harry Potter! Draco has told me much of your exploits! You were victorious in your battle against one of the descendants of Jormungand, he has said!”
“Errr,” Harry responded uncertainly.
“He means the basilisk, Potter.”
“Oh, yes! Very lucky with that one - nearly didn’t survive the venom.”
“I myself was fated to die after defeating Jormungand! Only through the trickery of the Allfather Odin did I succeed! We are brethren, Harry Potter! Victors in the war against Serpents!”
“Uh, sure. Sounds go-ood.” The end of Harry’s sentence was rather strangled as he was picked up in Thor’s enormous arms and squeezed thoroughly.
“Put him down, Thor, before you break him.” Clint grinned, poking the god in the ribs.
“You okay?” murmured Malfoy, as Harry staggered once back on the ground.
“Fine!” Harry wheezed.
“Well, gentlemen,” McGonagall interrupted stridently, “Now that we’ve all been introduced, we should probably get on with things before I have any more parents hammering on my door demanding answers. It seems that three of our students have used the Lady Sif’s sword to open a portal to another place. We are hoping that you will be able to identify where they ended up and retrieve them before they, or the realm they’re in, end up damaged. Shall we proceed?”
*****
“So what you’re saying is…dwarves?” clarified Harry, as they stood in a loose circle in the middle of the Gryffindor Common Room.
“Aye! Or Rock Trolls! The conflicting magic caused the sword to return to its origin, the realm of Nidavellir! We must hope that the sword took them to its creator, Sindri, or his brothers! If they were found by the Rock Trolls, they are likely dead or enslaved!”
“No need to sound quite so cheery about the death of my students, Mr Thor.”
“Oh, he’s not happy about it - that’s just the way he speaks, Headmistress.” McGonagall looked a little appeased by Malfoy’s statement, but a worried frown remained.
“Is it possible to get them back safely, do you think?”
“Aye! As long as they’re with the dwarves! Draco and I…”
“And Potter. He’s had experience with the sword before so it might be safest in his hands,” Malfoy interrupted quickly. Thor nodded.
“Draco, Harry Potter and I will go to Asgard and from there to Nidavellir and invoke the assistance of the Sons of Ivaldi. If they have the little Midgardians with them, they will surrender them to me immediately.”
Harry, who was both nervous and excited about travelling to other realms, thought that this plan rather lacked detail. He refrained from commenting however, aware that McGonagall might point out that at least they had a plan, which is more than could be said of some of Harry’s past exploits.
*****
“There was no need to be quite so flirtatious, Potter. I’m sure Heimdall would have helped us get here anyway, if only because we were accompanying Thor. No need to offer to handle his ‘magical artifacts’ in recompense.”
Malfoy had been going on in this vein for quite some time and Harry was rather glad they were finally approaching the mountain settlement of the dwarves on Nidavellir.
“He has beautiful eyes though, doesn’t he?” Harry said, amused.
“Well! Bit over the top, if you ask me! Not all of us need magical, glowing eyes, golden armour and the ability to see for a hundred leagues just to be attractive.”
“Indeed you don’t,” murmured Harry, whose eyes had again been drawn to the way Draco’s backside moved in his jumpsuit as he strode along.
“What? Oh. Oh!” Draco peered at Harry as he raised his gaze back up to his face. “Well, then. Stop flirting with every half-decent man and/or alien you see and ask me out, you moron. After this mission is complete, obviously. Idiotic schoolchildren must take priority over our social lives. Sadly.”
Harry grinned.
*****
Thankfully the dwarves had been rather delighted by their Midgardian guests and not sold them off to the Rock Trolls. In fact, Augustus and Clementine appeared to have spent their captivity teaching Brokkr and Eitri a new version of Rock, Paper, Scissors entitled ‘Ore, Parchment, Hammer’. Meanwhile, Eleanor and Sindri had been ‘repairing’ the sword by removing all the garish rubies and reworking the enchantments. Harry ended up working with them as the Valinir still seemed to recognize him as a True Gryffindor and kept reappearing in his hands every time he put it down. The children had been reluctant to leave, in all honesty, until they realized they would get to travel home via the Bifröst with the God of Thunder. They would have bragging rights at Hogwarts for eons.
After returning the children safely to Hogwarts, for thorough scoldings from their parents and as many detentions as McGonagall could legitimately devise, Malfoy saw Thor off the premises with many thanks for his assistance and a gift basket of Pop Tarts®. Agents Barton and Coulson accompanied him, though reluctantly in Barton’s case as he had had a great time practicing his archery by playing with the Giant Squid. Coulson had needed to whisper some sort of promise into the other man’s ear that had made him grin wickedly before he had agreed to leave.
Once everyone else had left, Draco and Harry remained in the Entrance Hall smiling at each other.
“Well, I’d better head back to Switzerland to make my report to Director Peters or there will be hell to pay.”
“Okay, sure. Would…er, would you like to come to mine for dinner on Saturday? 7 o’clock?”
“Definitely,” Draco grinned, “Just let me have your Floo address?”
Harry wrote it down quickly on a piece of parchment and handed it over.
“See you then, Potter.” Draco turned and started to climb the stairs back to McGonagall’s office and her Floo.
“Oh, and Draco,” Harry called. Draco turned to look back at him and Harry gave him a top-to-toe leer that made him shiver in anticipation,
“Wear the jumpsuit.”
The End