The Great Hall was already alive with the clatter of cutlery, the murmur of conversation, and the occasional burst of laughter as students tucked into breakfast. Golden morning light streamed through the enchanted ceiling, which mimicked the clear blue sky outside. At the Gryffindor table, Haraldr and his friends entered together, moving with the casual confidence of warriors who had trained together since childhood.
Heads turned. Whispers followed. The Asgardians were already the talk of the school, and now, sitting among the other students, their presence was even more pronounced.
Ron Weasley, halfway through stuffing his face with toast, barely waited to swallow before blurting out, "So, you're really from Asgard?"
Haraldr chuckled, nodding as he reached for a goblet of pumpkin juice. "Yes, we are."
Ron swallowed hastily. "Blimey. What's it like?"
"Magnificent," Skadi interjected, her piercing blue eyes flickering with amusement as she snagged a piece of bacon. "Golden palaces, vast halls filled with warriors, magic woven into every part of life. It makes Midgard seem… quaint."
Draco Malfoy, who sat across from Ron, smirked. "Understatement of the century, Skadi. Midgard is like a petting zoo compared to Asgard." His blond hair was perfectly styled, and he carried himself with an aristocratic air—except his version of nobility involved battle-hardened training rather than merely sneering from atop a throne.
Before Ron could protest, Hermione Granger leaned in, her brown eyes wide with curiosity. "I'm Hermione Granger. Is it true that Asgardians have advanced magic and technology? How do you integrate both? What's your schooling system like? And what exactly is an Einherjar?"
Haraldr blinked, slightly overwhelmed by the barrage of questions, but Susan Bones laughed—her melodic voice filled with warmth. "Slow down, Granger," she teased, her auburn hair catching the light. "Give him a moment to breathe."
"But those are excellent questions!" Hannah Abbott added, bright-eyed and eager. She always had an open, inviting energy—like the first bloom of spring. "I'd love to hear about your training, too."
Haraldr set his goblet down, exchanging a glance with Viggo, who smirked and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. The Asgardians were used to explaining their world to newcomers, but Hogwarts had already proven to be full of surprises.
"Asgard's magic and technology aren't separate the way they are here," Haraldr explained. "We don't just enchant objects—we forge spells directly into our weapons and armor. A sword isn't just a sword; it might hold the power of a storm or cut through the fabric of reality itself."
Leif, always the brawler, grinned as he cracked his knuckles. "And schooling? Think of it like Hogwarts—but every class is Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions combined. If you don't know how to wield magic and a weapon by the time you're fifteen, you're dead weight."
Hermione's eyes gleamed with interest, but Ron looked half-horrified. "Blimey. That sounds mental."
"To you, maybe," Bjorn rumbled, his deep voice carrying a thick Asgardian accent. His red hair made him stand out even more, though his sheer size and warrior's build would have been enough on their own. "To us, it's just how we live."
Neville Longbottom, who had been quietly listening, nudged Haraldr and pointed toward a golden-brown pastry. "Try this," he suggested with a small, encouraging smile. "Treacle tart. One of my favorites."
Haraldr took a bite and raised his eyebrows in appreciation. "Delicious. Thank you, Neville."
Susan grinned at Neville. "See? You're already helping them adjust."
Ron, eager to steer the conversation to something he understood, piped up again. "Do you have Quidditch in Asgard?"
Draco's smirk returned. "Of course. But we play it… differently."
"How different are we talking?" Ron asked warily.
Leif chuckled. "Imagine regular Quidditch, but the bludgers explode, the snitch can teleport, and every player is expected to be able to duel midair."
Ron turned pale. "Bloody hell."
"You should see the training accidents," Sigrun added, grinning. Her fiery red hair made her look even more mischievous. "Lost count of how many times we've had to scrape someone off the field and throw them into the healing pools."
Ron looked like he wanted to say something else, but wisely shoved another piece of toast into his mouth instead.
As breakfast continued, more students joined in, eager to hear about Asgard and its wonders. The initial wariness that had surrounded the Asgardians' arrival was quickly being replaced by genuine interest, laughter, and the beginnings of unexpected friendships.
Susan leaned toward Haraldr, whispering with a knowing smile, "I think we're going to like it here."
Haraldr glanced around the table—at his friends, at the Hogwarts students, at the grand hall that was so different from the halls of Asgard but just as full of life—and smiled.
"I think you're right."
—l
The morning air buzzed with conversations, laughter, and the occasional clatter of cutlery. At the Ravenclaw table, Fleur Delacour sat with the effortless grace of a queen at court, her silver-blonde hair cascading over her shoulders like liquid moonlight. She barely touched her food, instead sipping delicately at a goblet of juice, her sapphire eyes flickering across the room.
To the untrained observer, she seemed simply poised and aloof, a foreign beauty calmly enjoying her breakfast. But beneath the surface, Fleur was doing what came naturally to her kind—sensing, feeling, understanding.
Veela magic was more than just allure; it was perception, a heightened awareness of emotions, attractions, and unspoken connections. And as Fleur attuned herself to the energies of the Great Hall, her focus inevitably landed on Haraldr.
He was impossible to ignore.
Seated at the Gryffindor table, surrounded by his Asgardian companions and an ever-growing circle of admirers, Haraldr exuded the presence of a born leader. His laugh was deep and warm, his posture relaxed but commanding. But what truly caught Fleur's attention was the glow—subtle to most, but glaringly obvious to her.
There was a strong, undeniable bond between Haraldr and Susan Bones. Fleur could see it as if it were written in golden light. The way Susan leaned toward him, the way his gaze softened when she spoke—this was no passing infatuation. It was deep, rooted, and powerful.
Yet, there was something else.
A second connection. Not as strong, not yet, but growing—Skadi.
Fleur's eyes narrowed slightly. She hadn't noticed it before, but now that she had, it was impossible to ignore. There was a charge between Haraldr and the ice-eyed warrior woman. Not mere friendship, something more.
And then, to her surprise, Fleur sensed something faint but undeniable—a thread leading to herself.
Her breath hitched for just a fraction of a second. What? That should not be possible. Connections like this only formed when both parties held some measure of attraction. Did this mean—?
Fleur glanced back at Haraldr, who was currently grinning at something Neville Longbottom had said. He hadn't even looked at her this morning.
So why did the bond exist?
Fleur was still deep in thought when an annoyingly familiar presence entered her space.
"Uh—Fleur. Hi. Good morning. Or, uh—bonjour?"
She looked up, arching a perfect eyebrow as Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, stood before her, fidgeting like a first-year in front of Dumbledore. Tall, broad-shouldered, and undeniably handsome, Roger should have had no trouble speaking to any girl. But, as always, her Veela magic rendered him utterly useless.
Fleur sighed inwardly. Not again.
"Bonjour, Roger," she greeted smoothly, her French accent curling around the syllables like silk. She rested her chin on her hand, already predicting where this was going.
Roger, already flushed, gulped audibly. "So, um. You're really… uh… beautiful."
Fleur's lips curled into a faint smirk. How original.
"Merci," she said, sipping her juice as if this conversation was the least interesting thing in the world.
Roger fidgeted, struggling against the pull of her magic. His usual cocky demeanor was nowhere to be found. "I, uh—was wondering if maybe… if you're not busy… if you'd want to, you know, go to Hogsmeade? With me?"
Fleur tilted her head, letting a calculated pause stretch out just long enough for Roger to squirm.
"Roger," she said smoothly, "I theenk you should sit down and enjoy your breakfast."
Roger blinked, dazed. "Wait—what?"
She gave him a charming smile. "Before eet gets cold, non?"
For a second, he looked as if he wanted to argue. Then, as if under an unspoken command, he nodded vigorously, stumbling backward to his seat. His mates at the Ravenclaw table snickered, some patting him on the back while others shook their heads at his tragic attempt.
Fleur, unfazed, turned her attention back to her plate. Ridiculous boys.
Still, her thoughts drifted once more to the connections she had sensed. To Haraldr. To Susan. To Skadi.
And to herself.
She wasn't sure what it meant yet, but she intended to find out.
—
The usual morning buzz of the Great Hall was interrupted as the massive wooden doors swung open with a resounding thud. The sound echoed through the vast chamber, bringing conversations to an abrupt halt as heads turned in unison.
Standing in the threshold, Loki of Asgard made his entrance, draped in emerald-green and black, his regal bearing unmistakable. He strode forward with effortless grace, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of his lips, as if he had orchestrated the silence itself. But even Loki, god of mischief and theatrics, was momentarily upstaged by the two figures padding powerfully at his side.
Freki and Geri.
The massive Asgardian wolves, once Odin's trusted companions, had long since bonded with Haraldr. Their thick silver fur gleamed under the floating candles, and their piercing golden eyes scanned the room with quiet intelligence and authority. As they moved, their presence commanded absolute respect, their sheer size and elegance turning awe into reverence.
Silence stretched for a heartbeat longer—then came the whispers.
"Are those wolves?"
"Real wolves? That big?"
"Why are they with Loki?"
"They look like they could eat a Hippogriff."
Loki let the suspense hang, savoring the attention before he finally spoke. His voice was smooth, rich with amusement, and carried effortlessly through the hall.
"Good morning." A pause. "I trust you all are finding Hogwarts as enchanting as we do?"
His eyes gleamed with mischief as he took in the stunned faces of the students. At the Gryffindor table, Haraldr leaned back lazily, watching with clear amusement as his wolves casually trotted over to him.
Freki reached him first, nuzzling into his side, while Geri gave a deep, satisfied huff before settling beside him.
Haraldr chuckled, scratching behind their ears. "Missed me already?"
The wolves responded with deep, rumbling growls that weren't threatening—more akin to massive, furry thunderclouds purring. The students nearest to him leaned away slightly, unsure whether to be terrified or envious.
Loki clasped his hands behind his back, his expression the very picture of princely charm. "As we prepare for the Triwizard Tournament," he continued, "let us remember the importance of bonds—the friendships we forge and the lessons we take from one another. This is a time of unity."
The silence broke as the hall erupted into applause.
Loki inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, then, with a final glance at Haraldr, made his way toward the staff table. Freki and Geri followed closely, though not before casting one last protective glance at their true master.
But just as the applause began to die down, a new wave of theatricality swept through the hall.
From the Gryffindor table, Fred and George Weasley shot up from their seats with exaggerated reverence.
With identical, sweeping bows, Fred threw out his arms dramatically. "Oh, mighty Loki!" he intoned, his voice filled with mock worship.
George clasped his hands together, adding in perfect unison, "We are Fred and George Weasley, humble tricksters in the presence of a divine master!"
Fred sighed, looking skyward as if seeking divine intervention. "We beseech thee, O Lord of Mischief, bless us with your infinite wisdom."
George smirked. "Or at the very least, a few good pranks."
The Great Hall burst into laughter, and even some of the professors—Flitwick, in particular—tried to stifle their amusement.
Loki tilted his head, regarding the twins with that infuriating, knowing smirk. "I see the spirit of mischief is alive and well at Hogwarts," he mused. "It pleases me."
But before Fred or George could respond, the doors swung open again.
This time, the reaction was immediate.
Gasps. Whispers. The kind of hushed awe that could only come from seeing legends in the flesh.
For striding into the Great Hall, looking like they owned the place, were none other than—
James Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin.
And they weren't alone.
The Asgardian adults followed behind them, but all eyes remained locked on the three Marauders.
James—tall, impossibly confident, his messy dark hair only adding to his charm—grinned as he strolled alongside his brothers in arms, hands tucked casually into his pockets.
Sirius—lean, effortlessly cool, his sharp cheekbones and devil-may-care smirk making girls across the hall swoon—let out a soft chuckle as he took in the stunned faces around them.
And Remus—rueful, amused, his sharp, intelligent eyes scanning the room with that ever-present hint of mischief—shook his head at the reaction they were getting.
Loki turned smoothly to the twins, his smile widening. "Ah, perfect timing."
He gestured toward the newcomers. "Fred, George—allow me to introduce you to some legendary figures from Hogwarts' past."
The twins blinked.
Loki's smirk widened. "James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black—known, once upon a time, as the Marauders."
Fred and George froze.
Then, in perfect synchronization, they turned to stare at the three men before them.
George's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. "Wait. The Marauders?"
Fred finally managed to exhale. "You mean—THE Marauders?"
James grinned, ruffling his already wild hair. "All true, I'm sure," he said, voice rich with humor.
Remus chuckled. "We did have a bit of a reputation."
Sirius, ever the showman, draped an arm around each twin's shoulders, smirking as he leaned in. "I hear you two are quite the troublemakers."
Fred and George looked utterly starstruck.
George fumbled for words. "We… uh, we do our best."
Fred, eyes still wide, nodded. "Yeah. We—uh—try."
Sirius tilted his head. "'Try'?" he echoed, as if personally offended by the lack of confidence. "No, no, no, lads. If you're going to cause trouble, you don't 'try'—you commit."
Remus sighed, though his eyes twinkled. "And accept the consequences."
Sirius scoffed. "Consequences are just an inconvenience to be outsmarted."
James grinned. "Though we did have our fair share."
Fred and George exchanged a look—one of pure, unfiltered admiration.
Fred, still dazed, blurted out, "Do you… uh… have any tips?"
Sirius laughed, clapping him on the back. "Oh, do we."
Loki, watching the interaction unfold, chuckled. "I daresay you may have just met your mentors."
As laughter and conversation filled the Great Hall once more, the students around them leaned in eagerly, whispering about the unexpected meeting of two generations of mischief-makers.
Haraldr, watching from his seat, shook his head with an amused smirk. He had a feeling Hogwarts was about to get a lot more interesting.
—
The Great Hall was still buzzing with excitement when the Asgardians rose from their seats, led by Loki, who had a distinct air of mischief and grandeur about him. He adjusted the lapels of his emerald-green Asgardian robes, his smirk growing as he caught sight of the eager faces around him.
"Come along, my dear warriors," Loki drawled, striding toward the grand doors of the castle with his usual effortless grace. "I believe it is time you see what true hospitality looks like."
Freki and Geri padded alongside him, their sleek forms commanding instant respect. Haraldr exchanged a glance with Susan Bones, who looked skeptical but intrigued, her fiery red hair catching the morning sunlight.
"If this is anything like what he did with that prank on Snape," Susan muttered to Hannah Abbott, "I'm bracing for something… excessive."
"Excessive is kind of Loki's thing," Hannah replied, tucking a loose blonde strand behind her ear. "But I won't complain if it means an actual decent bed."
Draco Malfoy, walking nearby with his usual aristocratic stride, huffed. "I swear, if this place looks like something straight out of Odin's treasury, I will—"
Luna Lovegood interrupted dreamily, twirling a strand of her long golden hair. "Oh, I hope there's a hidden portal to another realm in there. That would make things far more interesting."
Neville Longbottom chuckled at Luna's whimsical remark, his once-shy demeanor long gone. "Just as long as there aren't any more sentient plants in this one. I'm still getting over that thing in Herbology last week."
Tonks, ever the chaotic energy in any group, grinned. "If there isn't at least one booby-trapped hallway, I'll be severely disappointed. Loki, you better have installed some secret passageways or something cool like that."
Loki merely gave her a sly glance over his shoulder. "Oh, my dear Nymphadora—"
"Don't call me that," Tonks grumbled.
"—I would never let you down."
The group crossed the vast castle grounds, approaching a secluded section near the Forbidden Forest. Before them, rising out of the very earth as if it had always belonged, stood a towering, ornate gate of Asgardian design. The gold-and-ebony metal shimmered under the morning sun, intricate runes and Norse symbols pulsating with latent magic.
Astrid, her blonde hair whipping in the wind, exhaled in awe. "It's beautiful."
"That's an understatement," Viggo murmured, arms crossed, taking in the sheer scale of it.
Skadi, standing beside him, raised an eyebrow. "Trust Loki to go overboard."
Loki, clearly relishing their reactions, simply lifted his hand, and with a flick of his wrist, the grand gates swung open.
Inside was nothing short of breathtaking.
A palace stood at the center of the grounds, built from the finest Asgardian stone, its walls adorned with celestial gold and silver inlays. The structure blended the grandeur of Asgard with the raw beauty of Hogwarts, its towering spires and intricate carvings glowing with an otherworldly light. Waterfalls cascaded into crystal-clear pools, and enchanted torches flickered with soft blue fire. Majestic tapestries depicting legendary Asgardian battles and heroes adorned the courtyard.
Leif let out a low whistle. "Now this is a home fit for warriors."
Bjorn, his red hair a striking contrast against the golden backdrop, smirked. "Finally, somewhere that doesn't look like it was designed by frail little wizards with no taste."
Sigrun, standing beside him, nudged his ribs. "You mean somewhere that has a proper drinking hall."
Bjorn shrugged. "That too."
Luna, utterly fascinated, tilted her head. "I wonder if the walls whisper at night?"
Neville gave her a look. "Do walls do that often?"
"Only if they have something important to say."
Loki turned to face them, his smile one of pure satisfaction. "Each of you has a private suite, complete with all the luxuries you might require. There are also training halls, a library that rivals the one in Asgard, and—" he glanced meaningfully at Fred and George, who had tagged along purely out of curiosity, "—some very entertaining hidden surprises, should you be daring enough to find them."
Fred and George exchanged delighted grins.
"You mean—"
"We get to—"
Loki simply smirked. "Who am I to deny young mischief-makers their fun?"
Susan, eyeing the grand palace, crossed her arms. "This feels a bit much for a temporary stay."
"Oh, dear Susan," Loki drawled, stepping closer and flashing a grin. "Why settle for mediocrity when excellence is within reach?"
She huffed but couldn't quite hide the smile tugging at her lips.
Hannah peeked inside the nearest doorway, where an elegantly decorated lounge awaited. "I could get used to this."
Astrid gave a small, approving nod. "It does feel like home."
Tonks, inspecting one of the intricate Asgardian carvings on a pillar, snorted. "If this place isn't the setting for at least one ridiculous prank war, I'll be disappointed in all of us."
Draco, stepping up beside her, smirked. "You do realize who we're living with, right? Between Loki, the Marauders, and Haraldr? This place is practically a warzone waiting to happen."
Neville sighed. "I just hope we all make it out alive."
Loki, overhearing, clapped his hands together. "That, dear friends, is what makes life exciting."
And with that, the Asgardians—along with their new Hogwarts allies—stepped inside their new sanctuary, fully aware that whatever lay ahead in the Triwizard Tournament, they would be facing it together.
—
As Haraldr entered his private suite, he took a moment to admire the grandeur of the room. The walls were adorned with soft tapestries that blended the celestial gold of Asgard with the earthy tones of Hogwarts, and the windows offered a stunning view of the grounds. It felt like a sanctuary, a place to escape from the world outside.
Before he could fully settle, the door clicked softly behind him, and he turned to find Susan standing there, a playful grin on her face. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, her gaze warm and inviting.
"Hey, Haraldr," she said, her voice light but carrying an unmistakable hint of intent.
Haraldr's lips curled into a smile, glad to see her. "Susan, I didn't hear you come in. What brings you here?"
She moved toward him, her steps graceful and confident. "I thought we could enjoy the moment. After all, we've been through a lot lately, haven't we?" Her words were teasing, but there was an undercurrent of tenderness in her tone, one that Haraldr could feel.
He stepped closer, his heart picking up its pace. "I couldn't agree more." He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. "It's good to have some time like this—away from everything."
Susan stepped into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck, her warmth enveloping him. "Exactly," she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear. "Sometimes, we just need to take a breath and enjoy the people who matter."
Haraldr smiled, feeling her heart beat softly against his chest. "You matter, Susan. More than you know."
She pulled back slightly, her gaze searching his eyes. "And you matter to me too, Haraldr." Her hands slid down to rest on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her touch. "I'm glad you're here. I'm glad we're here."
He leaned down to kiss her forehead, savoring the simplicity of the moment. "I'm glad too."
They stayed close, lost in the shared silence, each finding comfort in the presence of the other. Susan's hand traced small circles on his chest, a soft smile playing on her lips.
"You know," she said after a beat, her voice thoughtful, "I've been thinking about something."
Haraldr pulled back slightly, giving her a quizzical look. "What's on your mind?"
Susan hesitated, as if weighing her words carefully. "Haraldr… I know how much you care for Skadi."
His expression faltered for a moment, but he quickly masked his concern with a soft smile. "Susan, it's not like that. You know you're the one I care about. You're everything to me."
She gave him a reassuring smile, her fingers gently brushing the side of his face. "I know, Haraldr. I trust you." Her eyes softened. "But I also know that feelings are complicated. And I'm not blind to the way you look at Skadi."
Haraldr's heart skipped a beat. "Susan, I… I didn't mean for anything to come between us."
She raised a hand, her smile kind but understanding. "It's okay, Haraldr. Really. I just needed to say it." Her eyes held his, sincere and open. "I'm not jealous, if that's what you're worried about. In fact, I think I feel the same way."
Haraldr blinked, trying to process her words. "Wait, you—what?"
Susan nodded, her expression a mix of affection and surprise. "I've noticed it too. There's something about Skadi—her strength, her presence—that's magnetic. I didn't expect it, but it's there."
Haraldr let out a long breath, relief flooding through him. "I didn't expect this either. But it makes sense. Skadi is remarkable, and I've felt that pull too. I guess I was just trying to figure it all out."
Susan chuckled softly, brushing a hand through her hair. "It's a lot to unpack, isn't it? But we can figure it out together." Her voice grew softer, her hand slipping into his. "We've always been open with each other, and that's what matters."
Haraldr smiled, his heart light with the understanding between them. "You're right. We'll figure this out—whatever it is. Together."
Susan leaned in, her lips brushing his in a tender kiss. "That's all I need to hear." She pulled back slightly, her eyes warm with affection. "I love you, Haraldr. And I'm excited to see where this all goes."
Haraldr gazed at her with a feeling of peace settling over him. "I love you too, Susan. Whatever happens, we'll always have each other."
They curled up together on the bed, comforted by their openness and the trust they shared. For now, they had each other—and that was all they needed.
—
The dimly lit, oppressive halls of Riddle Manor seemed to grow darker as the candlelight flickered ominously against the stone walls. The shadows cast by the flames seemed to writhe, as though alive, and an unsettling sense of dread hung thick in the air. The silence was broken only by the soft shuffle of footsteps echoing down the long corridor, where a lone figure—a low-ranking Death Eater named Travers—approached the throne-like chair at the far end of the room.
In the chair, nearly obscured by the darkness, sat a grotesque figure, a twisted parody of life, its infantile form barely resembling a man. The shrunken, deformed homunculus was the embodiment of Voldemort—pale, pitiless, and unnervingly still. His red eyes gleamed from the depths of the shadowy room, fixated on the figure before him, waiting.
Travers, sweat beading on his forehead, tried to steady his shaking hands as he approached. His breath was shallow, his heart racing with fear. He had heard the stories—the whispered rumors of the Dark Lord's temper—and he had no desire to feel the wrath of the most powerful dark wizard in existence.
With a deep bow, he stammered, "My Lord, I bring... news from Hogwarts."
Voldemort's eyes narrowed, glowing brighter in the darkness as he regarded the trembling Death Eater. His voice, when it came, was a hiss, sharp and menacing, echoing through the cold chamber. "Speak, Travers. Do not waste my time with your pathetic pleasantries."
Travers swallowed hard, the words barely escaping his lips. "It's... it's about the Triwizard Tournament, my Lord. At the Halloween feast... something unexpected happened."
Voldemort leaned forward, his narrow, snake-like face twisting into a semblance of interest. "Something unexpected, you say?" he asked, his tone laced with venom. "What could be so unexpected that it would drag your worthless hide before me?"
Travers flinched, but pressed on, desperate to please. "The Asgardians, my Lord... they revealed themselves. The contingent from Asgard appeared during the feast. And... Prince Haraldr of Asgard's name—"
"—Haraldr?" Voldemort interrupted, his voice rising with a strange, cruel curiosity. "Did you say Haraldr?" His red eyes flared with recognition. "You mean... Harry Potter?"
Travers' breath caught in his throat, but he nodded. "Yes, my Lord. The name that came out of the Goblet of Fire was Haraldr. It seems... it seems that Potter is working with the Asgardians. They... they must have known our plans."
Voldemort's lip curled into a sneer. "Foolish child." His voice was thick with disdain, but there was an undercurrent of something far darker—a hint of calculating rage. "And what of our dear Barty Crouch Jr.? The boy you sent to infiltrate the tournament...?"
"Captured, my Lord," Travers said quickly, his voice trembling. "Crouch Jr. was taken by the Asgardians and the Aurors. He is now in their custody."
A cold, seething fury radiated from Voldemort, his eyes narrowing to slits as a dangerous, serpentine hiss escaped his lips. The air grew colder, heavier. Travers could feel the pressure building, the weight of his failure settling around him like a suffocating blanket.
"You fool!" Voldemort spat, his voice low and venomous. "I trusted you with this—this—and you let it slip through your fingers like sand." He rose slowly from the throne-like chair, his spindly, skeletal hands gripping the armrests. "I will not tolerate failure, Travers. You will pay for this, understand?"
Travers stiffened, but dared not raise his eyes to meet Voldemort's. He was already preparing himself for the inevitable punishment. "I-I will do anything to fix this, my Lord. Anything."
Voldemort slowly circled him, his form a spectral shadow. "You have done enough. But your incompetence has complicated matters." He spoke each word with slow, deliberate malice, savoring the fear that emanated from his servant. "Potter... Haraldr... and the Asgardians, meddling in my affairs." His lips twisted into a cruel smile. "Perhaps it is time I show them the true price of their interference."
The air was thick with Voldemort's presence, and for a long, suffocating moment, the only sound was the crackling of the flames, the candlelight dancing across Voldemort's pale features like a death mask.
Finally, he spoke again, his voice a chilling whisper. "You will leave me now. Go and make yourself useful. Find another way—any way—to rectify your failure. I will not tolerate further delays."
Travers nodded quickly, his mind reeling. "Yes, my Lord," he muttered, barely above a whisper. "I will not fail again."
"See that you don't," Voldemort hissed, his voice dripping with contempt. "Now leave."
With trembling hands, Travers bowed deeply before stumbling backward. He dared not make eye contact with the Dark Lord again as he retreated, his heart pounding, already plotting his next move. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Voldemort in the silence of his own fury.
Voldemort returned to his throne-like chair, sinking into it with an eerie calm. His red eyes flickered with rage, but also with something else—something darker and more calculating. He had faced setbacks before. Potter had always been a thorn in his side, but this time, the game would be different.
The Asgardians, the Aurors... the interference of these unpredictable forces could be useful. Voldemort's lips curled into a thin smile. He would find a way to turn this to his advantage. He always did.
But first, he would make sure that those who had failed him paid.
---
Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!
If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!
Click the link below to join the conversation:
https://discord.com/invite/HHHwRsB6wd
Can't wait to see you there!
If you appreciate my work and want to support me, consider buying me a cup of coffee. Your support helps me keep writing and bringing more stories to you. You can do so via PayPal here:
https://www.paypal.me/VikrantUtekar007
Or through my Buy Me a Coffee page:
https://www.buymeacoffee.com/vikired001s
Thank you for your support!