Loki Odinson and the Chamber of Secrets

Chapter 1; Summer's End

(Told from Loki's Point of View)

I've been writing letter after letter to Harry Potter all this year, and I haven't received a single one back from him.

At first I assumed he had thought he was too good for me, but when I had received my first letter from Hermione, she told me she wasn't getting any letters from him either. Ron sent the exact same message to me. Maybe he just thought that all of us weren't good enough for him. It's a shame, though, because I had just started to feel like he was treating me like an equal.

Thor hadn't changed at all, despite my long absence. He continued to pester me, and he asked me multiple times why I hadn't visited him during Christmas time. I told him the same thing over and over again, "I didn't feel like it."

He seemed to think that my answer would change every time he asked me.

Other than that, Odin hadn't changed either. He still didn't really pay any attention to me, and he didn't stop Thor from being a pain in the ass when I wanted to be alone.

Frigga was the only person who addressed the fact that I had been gone for the majority of the year. She first wanted me to show her what I had learned, but I told her about the note that we all received at the end of the year, telling us that we weren't allowed to use magic over the summer. I supposed that it didn't include Asgardian magic, but she said not to use it just in case they happened to be tracking us. Otherwise they might find it strange that one of their students was on an alien planet in outer space. I found it unsettling that some mortal ministry could be tracking my whereabouts, and preventing me from using the magic I already knew.

Still, I kept that thought to myself.

There wasn't a whole lot to do this summer, and you might be thinking "how bored could I possibly be," but the answer is very. Yes, Asgard has a very elegant swimming pool, and yes, I'm allowed in it, but I don't like to swim with others watching, especially Thor, who takes up the pool half the time.

Apart from that, I've occupied my time rereading some of my school books, reading some of the Asgardian books that Frigga picked out for me, and sneaking out in the middle of the night just to get a little bit of swimming practice in.

I visited Midgard sometimes, and went to Diagon Alley for some reading, mostly about recent history, so I wouldn't be completely useless when it came to that subject. I would have spent all my time in Flourish and Blotts, but Frigga didn't think it was wise to spend all my time in there, and Heimdall wouldn't let me stay for more than an hour a week, which I thought was outrageous.

I begged my mother to buy me a broom, but she seemed very skeptical at the idea. In the end she told me no, but I still wanted to practice on a broom, just to see If I could make it on the Quidditch team somehow, maybe when a spot cleared up.

Near the end of the summer, my letters actually started to get interesting.

I was laying on my back in my bathtub, bubbles all the way up at my chin, when a large gray owl flew through the window, and landed face down on the floor.

Errol. He was the Weasley's family owl, and he was a mess. Every time he landed in my room, his feathers scattered everywhere. The first time I met him, I was eating breakfast, and Odin was there for a change. It just so happened to be the first time that Errol would visit me. He landed spectacularly on our breakfast table, spewing feathers everywhere, and everyone's eyes snapped toward him, lying splayed on the table.

My face had went beet red, and I stood up abruptly, smiling awkwardly. I grabbed Errol, and left the scene.

So yeah. That was my first encounter with Errol. I think you can see why I'm not a huge fan of him.

Errol popped up off the floor and stared at me in the bathtub. I looked at him over the side of the tub and he hooted cheerfully.

I had barely moved an inch when yet another owl swooped inside and landed with much more accuracy and balance than Errol. He had a neatly tied envelope attached to his leg.

I sighed, annoyed, as this clearly wasn't the best time to receive a letter. I heaved myself out of the bathtub, dripping water all over the floor. I wrapped a towel around my waist and walked over to Errol and the other Owl. I untied both letters with slippery fingers, and the other Owl flew out the window. Errol, however, fell back flat on his face. I could tell he needed food.

"In a second, be patient." I told him. He hooted indignantly.

I opened the more pristine looking letter first, and recognized the list on the parchment paper.

They were the list of items that I would need for second year. I didn't need anything apart from new books, and nearly all of them were written by a man named Gilderoy Lockhart, and all of his books had titles that were alliterations. Gadding with Ghouls, Travels with Trolls, and Year with the Yeti were all some of the titles in question.

I set the list on the edge of the bathtub, as the water continued to drain. I opened the other letter as well, and noted Ron's untidy scrawl.

Hi, Loki.

Harry's at my house now, we brought him in a flying car. It's a long story, but to summarize it, Harry's letters that he's been writing to us have been being intercepted by someone, a house elf named Dobby. So don't blame Harry for anything, he wasn't getting your letters, you weren't getting his.

Anyway, that's all. I hope to see you in Diagon Alley, we're leaving for it tomorrow morning. You don't need to write back if you're coming to buy books, so don't feel the need to.

See you at Flourish and Blotts, and if not, on the Hogwarts Express!

~Ron

I fold up that letter and set it next to the list of books. I walk across the room and grab some food for Errol, and in a few minutes, he's gone too.

I stow the letter away, and set the list on my bedside table. I get dressed into my normal Asgardian garb, and set aside a mental note to tell Frigga that I'll be picking up my books tomorrow.

I comb my hair and tend to it nicely, and return to my bed where I wait patiently for Frigga to call me for supper.