Chapter 4 – A Conversation Overdue

No, I have not forgotten this fanfic and have no intention of giving it up. But updates will be slow due to several reasons, as unfortunate as that is. However, I'm honoured by the reviews this story has received so far and I thank you all for your continued interest in it.

Many thanks to Katsy17, mattcun, god of all, Le Diablo Blanc2, cilia-chan, Clay19, Sevvus, Von, doubledamn, Darkan89, Nerfhearder69, ANGEL FALLEN FROM HEAVEN, and E4mj for your reviews.

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The thick book landed with a loud thump on the dark green carpet that lined the stone floors of the vast library. Its most recent reader slumped in his chair, arms hanging over the arm rests, head thrown back and eyes closed. A ragged sigh echoed in the still air of the room, carrying further in the silence broken only by a gentle, quiet rustling from the garden in the inner courtyard.

No one disturbed the silence, contemplative and frustrating though it was in equal measure. For all that one could choose to learn from the wisdom in these halls, there would always be something that could only be learnt through personal experience. A hushed chuckle broke the stillness as the reader remembered, a fond smile curving his lips, his eyes glowing with long remembered mirth. Lost in his memories, he did not notice the entrance of another being until a hand touched his shoulder.

In a flash the limb's owner found himself landing with a thump on the carpet covered floor, looking up into hard green eyes, offending arm confined painfully beneath him, while a hard knee dug a bruising groove into his stomach. He struggled to draw a breath and wheezed, "Harry!"

Green eyes blinked, cleared and widened in surprise and shock a split second before Harry jolted into motion, getting off his brother and helping Thor sit up. "Sorry. You surprised me. Does anything hurt?"

"Other than my pride, you mean?" Thor asked ruefully.

"Ah, never fear, Thor. You know that never lasts long. Your pride has always had an excellent rate of recovery," Harry grinned, rising and holding out a hand to his brother.

Thor took the hand extended in aid and pulled himself up off the floor looking none the worse for wear. "I had come to see if you would like to spar for a while as the day is almost gone and you have been in here for hours. But I think I would rather get some practice in myself. I have not had so hard a fall since Hogun first started sparring with me."

Harry clapped a broad shoulder and walked alongside the blond. "I've just returned from a war, Thor. My reflexes are still attuned to danger. Don't worry about it. I'm sure you'll be defeating me in the arena again in no time." Green eyes flashed with sly amusement as he continued, "Or at least, I'll let you defeat me sometimes."

Thor sighed. "Aye, that may well be true. But in the meantime, you will accompany me to see Father. He has called for you."

Harry sobered. "Has anything happened?"

"I have not been told. Though it promises to be a quest since the Warriors Three have also been called. I hope to be able to take part in it."

"Let us see what the King has to say first." With that Harry grabbed Thor's arm and apparated them to the corridor just around from Odin's audience chamber.

"It would not kill you to give me some warning of your intention to do that! You know I hate that form of travel."

"It is useful though." They walked around the corner, knocked once on the great doors and entered.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"You remember how I saved your head from being skewered right off your shoulders by that wild boar by this exact maneuver? And that time when you decided that antagonizing Tyr by making off with his favourite sword would be a smart move? If it wasn't for me, you'd be fighting all your battles with your left hand and no shield. And that time when you slipped eels into Volstagg's bed? Such a thrashing you…"

"Yes, yes, alright. Now do be silent, we're here."

As they approached the Seat of the King, they saw Odin pouring over a thick tome. Its leather jacket was cracked with age, but the edges were trimmed in gold. Harry coughed slightly, alerting the Allfather to their presence. Together they knelt on bended knee as the King turned to acknowledge them.

"Welcome, my sons. Rise."

Odin gently closed the book and put it away on a nearby desk, rising to stand. "I have asked you to come today on a matter of some importance. Thor, I would task you with leading the Warriors Three and a small contingent of our Einherjar and making a tour of the other realms we hold peace with. There have been rumors of unrest and I would rather they be resolved and put to rest as soon as possible."

"Yes, Father. Do we leave at once?"

"In the morning at first light, and you will inform your friends as they seem to have lost their way. Though you may, of course, make an exception of Midgard," said Odin with a smile towards Harry. "You must remember to be courteous and calm your temper, Thor. The battle for peace is not always won with swords and power, but with gentle words and calm diplomacy. This you must keep in mind. I would not have this mission turn sour for us later."

"As you will, Father. I shall be careful. We shall take your leave now and go to prepare for the journey."

"You mistake me, Thor. Harry will not be accompanying you on this journey. I have another task for him. Make your farewells now."

Though Harry had expected something of this nature from the beginning, Thor was surprised. But he did not say anything in the presence of their King. Turning to the raven-haired man beside him, he clapped a hand on his shoulder and pulled him into an embrace. "It seems we are to be parted, my brother. But I shall complete my duties and see you again very soon.

Harry smiled. "Watch your back, Thor, now that I shall not be at hand to pull you out of danger, or hold back your arm."

Thumping each other on the back, they let go and stepped back. With a bow to Odin, Thor turned and walked away, making for his room to pack and prepare for the journey. Then he would look for the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif and inform them of his father's instructions.

At the god of thunder stepped out of the vast hall, Odin and Harry faced each other. "Well, Father, what command do you have for me?"

With a sigh the King of Asgard took his seat again. "Harry, from the moment you first came here, we have loved you, taught you, sheltered you and guided you. But through the long years you have grown up into a strong young man and have grown too into your own power. Even though we cannot compare your wizardry with our forms of magic, the power you now hold is something different altogether. I would like to know where you gained it."

"I see. Am I being treated as a threat then?" Harry asked plainly.

"Not by myself or our family. We took you in as our son and such you remain in our hearts. You are to be respected as a Prince of Asgard though you will never take the throne, unless in dire need or by my command. But for our public support of you to hold water, we must know the truth from you. Will you place your trust in us, my son?"

Harry looked at the old man before him for a long while, lost in quiet contemplation and thoughts of a time not too long ago when another old man had asked him the same question. Then, the people wanted only confirmation of the extent of his power; now, Harry knew, the concerns were much more important. He nodded.

With a quick snap of his fingers, he brought a comfortable sofa chair into existence and took a seat. An off-hand gesture of his hand summoned a pair of small tables already laid with a plate of light snacks, a flagon of wine and a goblet each. When Odin did nothing more than to reach for a cream wafer, Harry relaxed into his chair and began.

"A few years into the second phase of the war after our Headmaster Albus Dumbledore had passed away, I, along with an ally, was following a lead that we hoped would bring the end of the war much closer. Dumbledore had left me a bequest in his Will, and a request to track down and destroy the Soul Shards of the Dark Lord. Voldemort had rent his own soul into seven parts, using very dark magic, in a bid to gain immortality. All that really happened was that the more of his soul he lost and more time passed by, the more his insanity grew. Towards the end, he was a maddened creature of primal rage and fear and instinct, a mere shade of his soul remaining in his body. Very rarely did his cruel intelligence shine through, and it was in one of these moments that I was able to destroy him. Anyway, what happened was…"

What followed was a long tale of war, hardship and an unusual alliance. It had taken many many years of searching and tracking to retrieve every single Horcrux, and the years of darkness only increased apace. War makes strange bedfellows, and there was nothing that Harry could have expected less than the alliance with Severus Snape. Chased away from Hogwarts grounds, Snape remained in contact with Harry through the communication mirrors, that Remus taught Harry to enchant.

The Potions Master had become an invaluable ally and the two had finally been able to bury the hatchet between them to make a formidable team. Together they'd sought out Voldemort's Horcruxes, working from the extensive notes Dumbledore had left Harry. Although the specific articles that may have been used as soul containers were not mentioned, the notes were detailed enough to give them as idea of what to look for. Plus, Harry had already known what a Horcrux felt like, thanks to his second year foray into the Chamber of Secrets.

By the end of his seventh year, the DA had become Harry's own private army, a network of informers and warriors, of analysts and enchanters, of spies and infiltrators that answered to him and his own inner circle – the Golden Trio, Severus, Luna, Susan Bones, Daphne Greengrass, Bill Weasley and Draco Malfoy.

At the end of his seventh year, right after the graduation ceremony, Harry had chosen to leave Hogwarts and even England to train under various masters, building up both knowledge and strength, even at times visiting Asgard for his training. But he never failed to keep in touch with the current events back home. Snape left with him, ostensibly under Dumbledore's orders to keep Harry safe, but they both knew their ties of friendship and dependence went much deeper than mere orders.

It had been with a sense of satisfaction that Harry finally did rend Voldemort's divided soul from this plane of life. With his plans for immortality scuppered, Tom Marvolo Riddle hadn't stood a chance against the Boy-Who-Lived.

Neither of them knew then that Harry was also the Master of Death when he faced off against Voldemort, his Lordship having activated the minute he'd used the Resurrection Stone to talk to his parents and Sirius. The night Snape granted Dumbledore freedom from a painful life, he had gained the allegiance of the Deathstick. He had later allowed Harry to Disarm him and gain its allegiance. The Stone Harry had already received from Dumbledore's bequest.

Apparently, so long as a single individual held the allegiance of the Hallows Three, that person would be considered the Master of Death. A circumstance that Harry later allowed had worked out quite well for all concerned. Death would never allow its Master to die, or at least, to remain in the realm of the dead. So Harry had returned to the land of the living even after being hit by Voldemort's Death Curse. And slain Tom Riddle for the last time, winning the war and the Battle for Hogwarts.

There was a long silence when Harry was finally done with the telling of his tale. The young man sat with his elbows resting on his knees, the empty goblet spinning idly between hands hanging from limp wrists. The elder was uncharacteristically slumped in his golden throne, drawing short harsh breaths, a hand over his face as he tried to compose himself. This was no King taking a report from a soldier; but instead a father listening to the wars his son had been through and what effect they had had on him. Slowly, as the silence deepened, the old man pulled himself together.

Making his way down to kneel before his adopted son's chair, he said softly, "Harry?"

When the young man raised cautious dead eyes to his own, Odin's heart smote him, and with actions faster than thought, he pulled the boy into his arms, encircling the slight frame with a powerful warmth. The pain he felt in his chest eased when the stiff form of his son relaxed into their embrace and a pair of wiry arms twined about his waist. They held each other without words, giving and taking comfort in equal measure, until a loud rumble announced that one of them had missed their noontime meal.

Harry laughed and pushed against his foster-father. "Mother will be most annoyed with you if you do not eat at once."

"Frigga always tries to make me eat when I'm in the middle of work. I'm the King, I have to work! Besides, I can always have food sent up from the kitchens. Although by the time it gets here, I'm busy with something else and it gets cold," he mumbled, then shot a sharp look at the wizard. "But not a word of that to Frigga, or you won't be allowed in the library for a fortnight."

Theatrically, Harry laid a hand on his chest and gasped in mock sorrow, "But Father! Am I not your favourite son!?"

Odin made the hall echo with laughter. "Don't let either of the other lads hear you say that. Now, let's see about getting something to eat, shall we? We can join your mother in the gardens. That will please her, no doubt."

The young man winked at his father and replied cheekily, "Indeed. It will also let her know that you admit you forgot to eat at the proper time and are now trying to get back into her good graces."

"Young brat. Begone with you and see that you meet us in the gardens with a sumptuous repast. And find your brothers and bring them along too. I know your mother has spoken with you. I shall be along momentarily."

Harry did not reply, only bowed to the Allfather and made his way swiftly from the room, vanishing the chair and tables as he left. He knew their conversation wasn't over yet, but he was grateful that it would not be now. For all his power, he'd often felt quite alone even as he'd worked in the post-war world to rebuild and remake the Wizarding World. There had been little time for leisure, and not much more for grief or introspection. He was grateful to the Allfather for accepting him as he was and not treating him in any way different than usual. Perhaps things would be alright now.

Odin watched the gilded doors close behind Harry's slight form and let out a tired sigh. Often had he spent immeasurable time in these vast halls, working or thinking; there was always something to be resolved in the kingdom. As he looked around the vaulted ceilings held up upon gracefully fluted pillars, his thoughts rested upon the young man who had just left. "Once before was a similar power seen in Asgard, though never within these halls. I banished that wielder then; but this is my son. How then shall I be just?"

With this wisp of thought floating through his mind, as on the feathers of Huginn, Odin made his way to his wife's gardens. It was a place where he could always find a measure of peace. Yet today, as he watched his wife and three sons talk and laugh among themselves with a carefree air, he felt the weight of magic in the air and the heavy hands of the Norns upon his family.

Lost in thought, he did not notice when Harry approached him. But a firm hand on his shoulder brought his head up and he looked into warm green eyes. "The time that will come to pass is not yet here, Odin Allfather. Put aside your worries and find peace here with your family. But do not forget the ties that bind us, for they will soon be sorely tested."

With a smile Harry returned to the table, setting it up for a small feast, leaving Odin to stare after him in wonderment, a fond smile curving his lips and hope lighting his heart.