Archive of Our Own ^beta

Hell was a landscape that rarely changed.

To the living, this would be an unbearable. To Hel, who called the Underworld her home for some few eons, it was a surprising comfort.

When she had first gotten here and was saddled with the curse Odin so generously put her under, to guard Niflheim, also known as the Underworld, she had rather spent a century or three crying her eyes out.

But over time, the desolate landscape with its bone-white rictus trees, fanged skeletal-bat swarms and hordes of silent undead which upkept her many manors and palaces, has somewhat grown on her.

The only thing she truly misses these days… well.

It is rather silly, but… she rather misses having a pet.

Her father Loki, whom she still remembers fondly, had often shapeshifted to entertain her when she had been but a small child.

Hel hadn’t had many friends growing up, in part because she was an extraordinarily beautiful child with snow white hair and big silver eyes, but also perhaps because she was just a little bit… well, blue.

She wasn’t nearly as blue as her father was. Her skin was that of someone who had perhaps been aiming for a snow white, but missed its mark by a few shades when they created her. Her father often used to call her his blue-moon child when she has still been little enough to sit on his broad shoulders…

Recognizing that her thoughts had wandered some, she decides to go to her meadow for a stroll.

Normally, nothing living can exist in her Underworld, but Frigga – whom sometimes Hel thought of as the only decent Godhood in all the celestial spheres – had broken the rules of both the Underworld and Odin’s orders, and had – somehow, no one is exactly sure how – created a living meadow in Hel’s kingdom. Odin had only not objected because it showed off Frigga’s – and therefor Asgard and his power over even Niflheim – The meadow bloomed with pure white flowers of all kinds which practically glowed in the dark landscape, but despite the flowers being all white – always – they were still somehow living. Hel treasures the gift more than almost any other because it gives her such comfort when the loneliness and lack of life became too much for her that she contemplats putting herself into an Eternal Sleep in order to escape it.

These thoughts are from many millennia ago, and these days, Hel just enjoys her daily walks in her meadow, her long white hair blending perfectly with the white flowers as she walks.

Today however, somethings is wrong.

A niggling sensation at the edge of her senses that she can’t place, but instead, she follows it slowly towards the center of the – admittedly – large meadow.

There, what she sees makes her stop suddenly in her tracks.

Among the beautiful white blossoms, is a tiny lump of something dark.

Approaching it, Hel realizes to her astonishment that it is a child.

In all the hundreds of thousands of years that Hel has lived in the Underworld, she has never seen anyone get inside her meadow without her knowledge.

She carefully crouches down, to take a closer look. The child has messy dark hair and looks very small. An elf perhaps? Or a mortal? The child looks too skinny to be a dwarf child…

Then to her astonishment, the child stirs!  

She is half expecting the child’s body to become translucent as most souls inevitably do shortly after death when entering her domain, and a part of her is only wondering how this little soul got lost. They are rather far from the Gjöll after all…

She reaches out and touches the child’s unruly black hair, noticing a sōwilō rune on the child’s forehead as she moves the hair out of his face to better identify his species, and idly wonders what Seiðr this is…

When she notices the child is stirring, she pulls her hand back, just in time.

The little child carefully sits up and Hel gets the second shock of the day.

The child’s eyes are green!

Brilliantly, vibrantly, green.

Nothing in Niflheim has color, only shades of white, grey, and black. Not even Frigga could add color to her otherwise-miraculous meadow.

Hel must have made a noise at her discovery because the child turns those luminous green eyes on her and visibly starts in surprise.

“Oh! I am… sorry. I didn’t… know I wasn’t alone.” Then the child looks around, perplexed, “um, sorry but… where am I?”

The child speaks softly, as if he isn’t really wishing to be heard so much as he feels he should say something.

Gathering her wits about her, Hel tells him, “You are in my Kingdom, Niflheim. Also known as the Underworld.”

He looks at her and blinks. Then sighs a little.

He looks surprisingly unperturbed to he told he is in the Underworld, Hel notes, a bit worried now.

She looks at him again. He can’t be more than 4 or 5 years old, if he had been a mortal. His ears are rounded, so he isn’t an elf. If he is a godling however, Hel isn’t so sure…

“Underworld. That is where dead people go, right? So, I am dead?” the child asks, expression flickering from resigned to a little bit sad, but nothing as dramatic as Hel has been expecting.

“Usually yes, but there is something a little bit odd here. For one, this isn’t where you are supposed to arrive… tell me child, which planet are you from? What is your name?”

“Um?” the child asks, confused. “Sorry but, did you say ‘planet’? and my name is… Harry, I think.” The child’s big green eyes show great confusion at her question.

Frowning a little, Hel asks him, “You think? You do not know your own name?”

“Well, no one calls me by it, do they? My aunt and uncle call me boy or freak more often than not…” the child trails off and quickly stops speaking. That’s when Hel realizes she has started outright scowling at the child and no doubt frightening him.

She stops that.

“Harry. I have never heard of such a name. What is your species call, little Harry?”

“Er, species?” little Harry says, sounding out the word as if he has never said it out loud before. Maybe he hasn’t. Hel wonders if he is from one of the primitive branches of the Yggdrasill. “I think my ‘species’ is called human? That’s what the encyclopedia said anyway.”

Human. That means the child is from Midgard. The shortest-lived of the Yggdrasill’s planets.

She tries to remember what she knows of the Midgardians. It has been a long, long time since she has been on Midgard. At least a few thousand years now, though she couldn’t exactly be sure because time moves differently on Niflheim. She does remember that while Midgard also went through time-cycles, they are a lot shorter than those of the other realms.

Stranger yet, Midgardians have their own arrival point in the Underworld, which usually isn’t anywhere near her meadow. She has no idea how this little mortal boy’s soul came to be in her garden.

She crouches down so she isn’t looming over the poor child who really – it seems – is barely a toddler, and on instinct, she runs her hand gently through the boy’s unruly hair, taking a closer look at his forehead-rune.

This is when Hel experienced her third shock of the day.

Little Harry is warm.

Hel draws in a sharp breath, and the boy flinches from her instinctively.

She must feel like ice to him.

“You are alive.” She says, and her voice sounds confused even to her.

“Um. I am?” little Harry asks her, looking as confused as she feels. “You are really cold! You shouldn’t be so cold, it’s dangerous! What if you got sick? Maybe we can find you some warmer clothes or –“

She smiles then, a little helplessly, because this child is less worried about himself and the possibility that he might be in Hel’s domain and somehow alive in it, and instead is more worried for her wellbeing.

It has been a long time since someone has shown concern for Hel’s wellbeing.

Just for that, Hel decides to take this little one under her wing.

“Do not worry for me, little Harry. I am a goddess. Goddess of Death actually, so it is natural for me to feel a little cold to the living. I promise, I won’t get sick. Now, how about you? Can you tell me how you came to be in my meadow?” she tries to keep her voice gentle and coaxing.

Normally, her aura and presence would have scared most mortals. She knows her aura generally feels terrifying to the living, and most mortals, regardless of which realms they came from, instinctively try to run from her. Little Harry is showing no signs of distress in her presence however, which confuses her even more.

He is clearly alive, both based on the fact that he is still warm, and the color of his eyes are not grey but green.

But he is also most definitely in her meadow, in the land of the dead.

What a puzzle she has on her hands!

Harry’s small face is scrunching up in thought, then says, “I don’t really know. I mean, um, all I remember is… dusting Aunt Petunia’s living room and Dudley shoving me. Right into the side table, which hurt! Aunt Petunia’s vase got knocked over, then… Uncle Vernon shouting and…”

Little Harry trails off and Hel gets a sinking feeling. Instead of saying anything, she gives the child her father’s eyebrow in question, and he blushes, and looks away.

“He grabbed me and… um. Hit me a few times. I must have cried out because he hates that. He threw me against the wall, and I remember my head hitting it hard and then… I was here.”

Hel makes herself keep looking at the child without changing her expression and asks, “Vernon?”

Little Harry blinks at her, and says, “yeah, that’s um, Uncle Vernon? Vernon Dursley.”

Hel makes a mental note of the name, and immediately reserves Dursley a spot in the special section of Niflheim which she set aside for punishing the truly vile. Right next to Odin if he managed to die anywhere outside of battle.

A goddess can hope.

When Midgardian Christians, Buddhists and other such religions first started to convert Midgardian lands, Hel was skeptical about the notion of dedicating portions of her kingdom to punish evildoers, but now, a few thousand years later, she is starting to see the benefits. She has a special place set aside for child abusers after all, inspired by Odin no less.

Plus, it really disturbed the faithful spirits to not find what they expected to see in her Kingdom when they died that she briefly wondered if she got a complex out of it and caved to peer pressure.

Now she is rather glad she did.

“It seems you come from Manna-Heim. Midgard. Usually, your dead never make it this far into my kingdom. They are immediately sent for judgement once they cross Gjöll. Somehow, you ended up in my meadow instead, and more importantly, you aren’t yet dead.” Hel tells him contemplatively. Then asks:

“Just to be sure, you didn’t… cross a bridge before you woke up here? With a big, white river under it?”

“I don’t think so? What bridge?” The child’s brow is furrowed and he sounds as tentative and as confused as he looks.

“Gajallarbrú, the bridge that all dead must cross to reach Niflheim. You clearly did not come from there, so where, exactly, did you come from?” She asks him, equally puzzled now.

“I don’t know, ma’am.” Harry tells her, finally looking a little worried.

“That’s alright. I am sure we will figure it out. But to do that, I must check my Book.” Saying this, she summons the Niflheim Registry, where every soul that enters her domain – dead or very-occasionally alive – is recorded.

Some of the souls that came through her lands had given her Book a rather fanciful name, such as The Book of Judgement or The Book of All the Dead, which Hel supposes is at least accurate but… the Registry was so much more than that.

“Hm. You said your name is Harry? Harry what exactly?” Hel asks, flipping to the section on Midgardian souls.

“I don’t know, ma’am.” Harry whispers, and Hel looks down at him sharply.

“You… don’t know your full name, child?”

“They never call me by it. No one does” the child tells her quietly, looking rather ashamed.

Hel pursed her lips, then making sure she catches his eyes and holds them, says “Alright, that is unfortunate, but we still have many options, don’t you worry. I will just take a drop of your blood and check who you are.”  

Saying this, she looks down at him and tries to smile reassuringly, while adding another note to roast Vernon and the child’s aunt which she thinks the child called ‘Petunia’, for an extra century or two.

The little boy looks a little frightened hearing she needs his blood, but extends his hand just the same.

She smiles at him again reassuringly and touches his finger with her own. Her Seiðr immediately draws the child’s blood without any injury or pain.

Death took many things away, but gave many gifts too. 

Little Harry looks astonished that a few drops of his blood are leaving his finger without it being injured in any way. She carefully collects it, opens the Book on the testing page and drop the blood onto it.

It immediately flashed with the Book’s Seiðr, and she looks down to see the writing which is steadily spreading on her page.

She then immediately has to fight her instinct to go down to Midgard and summarily murder quite a few mortals.

It is clear that little Harry is a Seiðmaðr. It is also clear…

Little Harry has been abused and used almost since the moment he was a year old.

Sadly, even the child’s ‘protectors’ from his Seiðr ancestry seem to want him dead. She adds this ‘Dumbledore’ to the list of people who will be joining Odin in her special child-abusers hell, and keeps reading.

Then her eyebrows go up, and… up.

The symbols above the child’s name…

“Hm! I think I know why you are here. In my meadow, that is.”

“Why?” Little Harry says, clearly curious. Then, “It’s pretty here.”

Hel looks around, at the meadow covered in flowers and the white trees everywhere, the night sky full of silver and white auroras with their trillions of stars.

“There is a beauty here, yes. I am surprised however. Most people don’t usually see it.” Usually because they are too terrified that they are dead and about to be roasted for a few dozen years for past wrongs, but she isn’t about to tell a child that.

He is an innocent after all. 

Well. Not completely. He has already been touched by Death, but his soul is still –

Wait a minute.

“Harry, would you mind if I took a look at that interesting scar of yours?” Hel asks the child, hoping he wouldn’t mind too much. There is something inside that scar she is very suspicious of...

The child blinks at her, and surprisingly, blushes, “yeah okay. Um, you… don’t… find it ugly?” the child asks, shame clearly coloring his tone.

Hel frowns, and then smiles at him, “Of course not! Scars are very interesting, and I rather think they make a person look distinguished! One of my brothers is absolutely covered in scars, but then, he is more often than not in the shape of a wolf, so maybe that’s not the best example.” She says, thinking out loud.

Little Harry giggles and she smiles down at him again, pleased that she has managed to change his opinion that he might not be ugly.

“Do you know, that is not just a scar. It is a futhorc rune called sōwilō. It represents the sun, or in some cases, light-chasing-away-the-darkness. I always thought of it as a symbol of hope, myself.”

Little Harry’s green eyes are suddenly very wide, “Really?”

“Really. So, you see? When some people see a scar, others see something else entirely.”

Little Harry thinks about this, and nods. “Different people will look at it differently. That’s what you are saying, right?”

“Yes. For us Asgardians, for example, scars are the symbol of battles won and enemies defeated. Of survival! My people always wore them with pride and told great stories in the Mead Halls, boasting of their prowess.” She smiles at him, pleased to remember those long-ago days.  

But then the child’s face falls and he looks down, and away, “But I didn’t get my scar in battle. I got it cuz… cuz… my aunt said it was cuz my…” then he mutters something which Hel can’t hear.

“What was that?” Hel asks him, a little amused.

“She said.. she said that it was cuz my dad was a drunk and killed both himself and my mum in a car crash, and I got my scar that way. That’s nothing to be proud of.” The child blurts, miserably.

“That is a lie!” Hel says, a little louder than she meant and all of Niflheim quiets for their Queen’s anger. Little Harry is thankfully too surprised to cringe from the power of her Voice.

She takes a deep breath and says again, “That is a lie someone told you. Here, look. It says so in the Book very clearly. Your parents died in battle, and they are likely in the Halls of Valhalla now. Look here: Your full name is Hadrian James Potter. That is a very powerful name, by the way. Your parents must have thought about it very carefully before naming you.” She tells him, thoughtfully, then continues:

“A mad Wizard – see the rune here next to his name? It indicates the curse of madness. Be wary of seeing this symbol. It never bodes well. But I was saying… a madman killed both your parents.” Hel tells him, showing him the Book which no soul save those who belong in Niflheim can actually read. Harry doesn’t seem to be having any trouble, which just confirms Hel’s theory about the child.

Harry himself looks completely shocked and wide-eyed. Maybe it’s because the book comes with illustrations? It was the only other thing in Niflheim with color… Is this the first time the child has seen how his mother and father looked? Surely not... even Hel knew the faces of her parents. But the child’s eyes are fixed on the image of the black-haired man and red-headed woman on the opposite page.

“Ah, see here? The madman was called Tom. Tom Riddle, and later I suppose he adopted the name… Voldemort?” Hel snorts and tries not to laugh. What hubris this mortal has to try and imply he could overcome death with his name!

“Your mother Lily is listed as the one who killed him, and… oh dear. Yes, I see. See here? Above her name? Your mother used blood Seiðr against him. Seiðr is called Magic on Midgard I believe… She sacrificed herself to fuel the spell. Clearly, she loved you a great deal! She stole his power and gave it to you. See the rune here and this rune also? This one is Teiws and it stands for Victory. This one on the other hand, is Algs or Ezec – I know it’s hard to pronounce, it is the language of Seiðr so of course it’s hard – it stands for Power. Combined with the rune for Enemy, it indicates your mother defeated this Tom Riddle Voldemort person, but she was not satisfied with just defeating him, oh no, like a Valkyrie of Asgard, she defeated him and then stole all his power, and gave it to you. Everything this Tom had, she took from him and gave it to her biggest love, her most beloved treasure – this rune here you, see? – you. You were her greatest love. She is definitely in Valhalla, your mother. She was clearly a formidable warrior. You should be very proud of them both, Harry.”

Little Harry had tears running down his face now, the poor nugget. He was barely a sprout of a soul, and already it was so heavy with History and Fate.

“and.. and my dad?” Harry asks, hastily whipping his face when he sees her looking, “What’s Valhalla?”

“Valhalla is… the afterlife for all warriors. It is a beautiful place, and all who die in battle – unless they are chosen by Destiney for something else, like I was – go to Valhalla, to spend eternity drinking, eating and telling stories of their battles! Or I suppose they could also go to Fólkvangr – those are Freya’s Heavenly Fields which are breathtakingly beautiful also. Your father James is listed as dying for defending those he loved. He too is worthy of Valhalla and had a warrior’s death. He died moments before your mother, so I suspect he stood in front of Tom Voldemort and defied him before he was killed fighting. The Seiðr your mother used – the protection she put on you – saved you when Tom tried to kill you. I suspect your sōwilō scar comes from the spell he cast which then rebounded on him and killed him, taking all his power and putting it inside you. But let me look that scar over, please? There is something strange about it…”

Harry obligingly lifts his bangs to show her his scar, his eyes still tearing a little. When she touches it however, she almost hisses in distaste.

That stupid mortal madman!

Well, she supposes she knows now why he was mad.

“Harry, I think something a little… unfortunate got lodged in your scar together with all of Tom’s power, by accident. It is doing some bad things to you, and I need to take it out so that it doesn’t affect you as you grow up. Do not worry however, I will not remove the power your mother claimed as her wergild – that means payment – now let me see… yes, a tiny shard indeed, but enough to cause trouble –”

Saying this, she places her fingers on Harry’s scar, and with a flex of her Seiðr, a black oily substance which is trying to scream – except she isn’t letting it past a little whine, least it scares the child – comes out of the scar.

Harry looks wide-eyed and horrified just the same.

“What is that?” he asks, sounding disgusted, as he should. He must be able to feel how wrong it is.

“That is a piece of broken soul. Tom seems to have lost a piece of himself on the night your mother killed him. Judging by how small it is, he likely tore his soul into a number of pieces on purpose before this – seven or eight more I think based on this size – which is what drove him mad.”

“He… tore his soul? Wait, on purpose?! Why?!” Harry sounds absolutely revolted.

As. He. Should.

“Because he was trying to escape Death. Instead, all it did was ensure he will never be able to reincarnate even after his soul-sins are laid to rest. Stupid, ignorant mortal. He thought it would keep him alive even if he died, and it would, except… remember this Harry, there are some fates worse than death, and this is definitely one of them. He will never be whole again. Never feel happiness, and only feel rage and hate. He will also never be sane again. Your mother did right to kill that stain.”

Hel held the little shard of a tainted soul between two of her fingers, and frowned. What to do with this piece of homeless soul… hm.

She puts it into a small container she carries with her, and contemplates giving it to the River.

The River will claim it, and destroy the taint, and everything else that made this soul Tom Riddle Voldemort. The stupid mortal frankly deserves it.

“I am glad I met you today, Harry. If that shard had remained in you, there would have been few ways to remove it from you, at least not by mortal human Seiðr. You would have had to die in order to be rid of it, or to kill Tom. Now, it is out of you, and your scar should disappear when you wake up. Tom’s power however, will always be yours, thanks to your mother.”

Harry looks very happy to hear this, and no wonder. No one wants someone else living in their head after all.

She opens her Book, just to check whether the shard has been fully removed, and there, right under Tom Riddle Voldemort’s name, the eighth shard’s location says ‘Niflheim’. Once she gives it to the River, it won’t even say that. Tom will just be listed as ‘soulless, incomplete’.

A fate worse than death indeed.

Harry looks at the Book with her.

“What does this rune here mean?” the child asks her, pointing about his own name at the first rune listed.

The God rune. Ansus.

Hel has to pause before answering because … “That one means you are a child claimed by a God. In this case, Death claimed you as their own.” Hel tells him, her voice miraculously not wavering.

Harry’s eyes widen, and he looks absolutely terrified. “I thought you said my mum and dad were mortals? And that I am not dead?”

“Yes, they are, and you are their son. And you are not dead. This I am sure of. But you also belong to Death. But don’t worry, I promise it isn’t as scary as it sounds. After all, you aren’t scared of me, are you? I am one of Death’s Chosen too.”

At Harry’s surprised look, and then hasty and shy headshake she continues,

“Although I am the Goddess of Death, I am not Death itself. I am Death’s Goddess. Death itself is a primordial entity, older than the cosmos. Once, long ago, there was Ginnungagap and nothing else existed. From this, two realms were made, Niflheim and Muspelheim – The worlds of Ice and Fire. This was before the birth of Ymir and before there was a world for Ymir’s body to make. Ice became Death, and Death from then on, represented the passage of Time or Entropy. Death… the entity I mean, has marked you, little Harry, as one of Its Own. Just like me. You can say that we are siblings. Death cannot bear children of its own, so when a bargain to trade Death is struck, or when a special child is touched by Prophecy like I was, Death will mark the child. Then one day, in the future, Death will come and claim their child, and the child will be forever taken out of Time, and death – true death – will never touch them because they are Death's Chosen. You, it seems, based on my Book, will hold the title of Master of Death one day. This title is a boon only given to mortals, never gods like myself. It is a worthy title for one of your race.” She tells him, hoping it won’t scare him too much. He was only a little nugget after all right now. A lost little nugget no less.

Harry stares at her.

“…. I only hit my head a little.” The child mutters, sounding a touch bewildered.

Hel laughs.

It has been a long time since she’s laughed.

She has a brother. A little, tiny, messy-haired, green-eyed waif of a little brother. He is nothing like her other blood-brothers, no. He isn’t a warrior yet. But he will be. The fingers of the Norns are clear on this one. Hel almost pities him. It is never good when the Norns meddle.

“You are my little brother Harry. We will be family one day.” Hel tells him, and sees the moment the orphaned child realizes what that means.

“Really? You… are my big Sister? Wait, do I… um, do I have to die for you to be my Sister? I… it’s okay if I do. I would rather come live with you, honestly, even if that means dying.” The brave little boy tells her and it’s all she can do not to scoop him up into her arms. Which reminds her that she kept getting side tracked. Now that she knows Harry is one of her family, this changes everything. Hel can feel herself smiling widely and the child smiles back at her, looking hopeful.

“Oh no, little brother, you don’t have to die. You will never have to die. I will tell you more in just a bit, but first I need to finish checking your scar. It won’t take a moment and then we can talk some more. Lift up your hair again for me please?”

Harry does so, even if he looks a little apprehensive about it.

Hel picks up his surface thoughts of wondering if she will remove his scar so she won’t have to be his Sister.

“Stop that. I am extremely happy to have a little brother. How could I not when you are this adorable?”

The child gives her a very shy but happy smile. He clearly hasn’t been complimented much in his life.

Making sure the scar isn’t doing anything else odd, she checks her Book again.

Then frowns.

“Something you should know, Harry. It says here, in your Edda – that means your life story – that the Seiðr community will ‘hail Harry Potter as their savior’ which… might not be so pleasant to live with. My Uncle Thor and Balðir and even my Father Loki were all born with Prophecy, by different Entities as well as the Norns. I can tell you, that life is never pleasant when you have a Prophecy on your head. We might be able to avoid that, if you like?” Hel tells him, thinking it through at speed.

Sometimes it really helps to be a Goddess.

Coming to a conclusion, she offers, “If you wish to avoid this kind of life and you don’t wish to use your last name because of it, I would be pleased if you would claim me as kin.”

“Kin? You mean family? Like, officially? How do I do that?” Harry asks her, hope followed by confusion bleeding into his tone.

“Simple. You claim your future-name now, here, in this realm where everywhere is a sacred site but especially this meadow which was blessed by Frigga herself. You will then be known as Hadrian Helbróðir, instead of Harry Potter. Then, the Seiðr of Niflheim and your adoptive Parent-god Death, will make it so that Seiðr itself recognizes you as Hadrian Helbróðir officially. You would still be Harry Potter of course; you would just be claiming another title in addition to Potter.” Hel tells him, rather hoping he would claim her as family, but also silently chiding herself that she is likely pressuring the child who only just learned that his last name is Potter.

“I would… really like that. To have family.” The child says a little shyly, but his eyes are sincere, and she wants to coo at him so badly it’s a little unseemly.

“Are you sure? A lot has happened to you in a very short amount of time. You might wish to take some time to think about it?” She makes herself ask him, since mortals did not process information at godly speeds after all.

“It would mean you and I could be family, right? Real family?” the child asks, tone so hopeful it tears something inside Hel’s ancient chest.

“Yes, but we will be family no matter what. This would just make it sooner.” She tells him, thinking she would claim him right away even if he wanted to keep his mortal name. She has sorely missed having her family after all.

“I want to be your family. Right away if that’s okay?” He tells her shyly but determinedly. There is no hesitation in those green eyes.

“Wonderful! Then it is settled. Come, come. We will do two things now.” Hel bent down and placed her finger on Harry’s chest – Hadrian soon – to show the child the feel of his Seiðr, since he will need to tap into it in order to make the Claim.

Much to her little brother’s astonishment, his chest begins to glow.

“This here, is your Seiðr. Both your parents had Seiðr in them. I think the term mortals use for people like you is ‘warlock’ or maybe ‘mage’? but it’s been a few millennia so don’t quote me on it. Most of your brethren humans don’t have Seiðr, so be careful not to show it to them until you are more powerful so they don’t kill you out of jealousy. It is a trait unfortunately not limited to mortals.” She tells him seriously, since she remembers this about many races but especially mortals. “Do you feel how warm it feels? This is where your Seiðr core is. Normally you wouldn’t be able to feel it when you are this young, but with a bit of my help… well. What are older Sisters for, right?” Hel tells him, smiling, and the smile he gives her is a very happy one. Hel makes a mental note to stress their relationship… often, if it makes him smile like that.

“Now, all you have to do, is focus on the warmth, here, where I am touching you, and say, “I, Hadrian James Potter, take on a new name, as I am claimed by Hel Lokidóttir as kin and Bróðir. From this day forth, I will be known as Hadrian Helbróðir, as I am claimed and blessed by the Goddess of Death, my older Sister, Hel. So, mote it be.” Hel tells him, feeling just a touch emotional.

She sneakily added the blessed part, even though that really isn’t the norm, since she fully plans to bless this little brother of hers. Considering he is clearly hit hard enough to enter her Kingdom’s gates; she figures he can use it.

She would feel guilty tricking him like this, but Hadrian isn’t a normal child, and he is claimed by Death, so she doesn’t feel too bad about it.

Harry repeats her words carefully, stumbling a bit on the Norse pronunciations… which reminds her, she didn’t miss the fact that one of the abilities Harry’s mother stole from Tom was parselspeak. Mortals of quite a few realms, she remembers, can be prejudiced about such things but maybe if… she thinks she has a plan on how to fix that.

When Harry says “So mote it be” his whole little body lights up with Seiðr, and Hel has a moment to hold her breath, because such a display hasn’t been seen in her Kingdom for a long, long time.

The Norns and Death both approve of this choice!

“Oh little brother, I am so proud of you. We were always destined to be kin, but now, we get to do it a lifetime sooner!” Hel would feel a bit ashamed at her absolute exuberance, but she is too happy to care.

It is clearly the right thing to say, because Harry gives her his widest, happiest smile yet, and because he is so open to her in this moment, she picks up his surface thoughts which are running rampant in that little head of his, someone actually wants me! I am not a burden. Over and over again.

That won’t do at all!

“Of course, I want you! You are Death’s Chosen, and it is very clear that you are a kind, generous, brave and thoughtful boy! Whomever didn’t want you is a fool, and I would know since I am a Goddess!” the ‘so there’ isn’t said but Hel is very sure her little brother hears it just the same, and that’s why he is grinning like a lunatic.

It’s ridiculously cute.

“Now! No little brother of mine would ever be defenseless, or have no access to me. So, I think this is what we should do…” Hel says, then bends down, and with one swift move, tears a piece off of her dress, much to Hadrian’s surprise.

Holding the piece of torn fabric, which wiggles a little in her hand like a kitten. She waves her hand at it, and it lengthens, and darkens, becoming a cloak. She leans down, and she knows her eyes are glowing bright silver now, as she channels her Power and breathes out her Seiðr into it, “Piece of my own, grow and become. Shadows of the Dead, as I command you, so you will obey. You are made anew, and given purpose. Shadows of Niflheim which now live inside you, protect my little brother from this day forth, for all days. As you are made, so shall you never die and disintegrate. So shall you not be vulnerable to Time, Fire, Light, Seiðr or Will. So shall you guard and protect, never allowing harm to touch my chosen kin. You will hide him in your shadows, you will make the paths of the worlds for him, and above all, you will keep him safe. I declare it so, with my Power and my Breath. So mote it be.”

Hel admits she might be a touch excited, as she didn’t exactly plan to make a minor god-artifact but well, her brother is destined for a fraught life. It will be best if he has as much protection as Hel can give him.

The fabric lights up with a dark, black light, and shivers. Hel reaches up, and removes one of her hair ornaments – a black Uru clip – and puts it on the cloak. The cloak immediately changes it into a clasp in the shape of a black wolf, the symbol Hel most prefers as her own. It isn’t a big piece of Uru, but it still is Uru, and Uru loves Seiðr. It will serve Hadrian well.

She crouches down, and fastens it around Hadrian’s slim little shoulders.

The child really is tiny, and the cloak practically engulfs him. Hel then picks up one of Hadrian’s hands, and just like before, draws four drops of blood from it, and puts one on the wolf’s head and three on the collar of the cloak, which immediately drinks it in.

“There. Now no one can take it away from you. You will forever be able to call it to you with merely a thought.”

The cloak vibrates a little in excitement, happy to be given a Purpose and a Master. It wraps itself around Hadrian in the approximation of a hug and shakes the boy back and forth a little, gently.

Hadrian giggles and pets the cloak reverently, which makes the thing shiver even more and clutch at Hadrian even tighter.

“it’s beautiful! Thank you. What is its name?” Harry asks, still petting the cloak gently.

Hel can tell the cloak is changing its texture using shadows, trying to figure out what Hadrian likes best.

“It is made of the Shadows and its purpose is to guard, so her name is Skugga Vǫrðr. Or Shadow Warden in your language. Normally shadows are the domain of my half-brother Höd but I do not think he would mind truly.” She winks at him, and Hadrian grins at her. Hel is really starting to adore this nugget of a child she just claimed as her own. He isn’t meant for an easy life, neither was Hel, but with her help, at least he won’t be alone, the way she had been when Death claimed her.

Still petting the cloak – Hadrian doesn’t seem to be able to stop, and the cloak is soaking it up clearly. – he says, “Skugga Vo… Vo… um. I am not sure I can pronounce that.” He tells them both apologetically.

Which brings Hel to the second thing she plans to do, now that she has a little brother to spoil.

Hel will never have children of her own, so Hadrian is going to get both the Sister treatment and the Mother treatment. It helps that he doesn’t have a mother to object to it.

“That brings me to the next part of my blessing. Come with me please.” She holds out her hand, and he clasps it without a moment of hesitation despite how cold it must feel to him. Hadrian doesn’t even realize how many gifts he has given her today, but just because he is ignorant of it, doesn’t mean she won’t treasure them.

She moves them at speed through her realm, and within a blink of an eye, they are standing by the Hvergelmir, the First Waters from which all Rivers flow.

“This is Hvergelmir, the First Waters. All the lakes and rivers come from Hvergelmir. Not many know, that anyone who touches Hvergelmir directly, will be reabsorbed, their soul scrubbed of all Self and their essence scattered back into the Yggdrasill, never to be made into that form again.”

Hadrian was starting to lean forward towards the waters to see it better, but hearing that he quickly backs up a bit, staring at the waters a bit fearfully.

She smiles down at him reassuringly, and says, “Anyone, but not those Chosen of Death. We are the custodians of the realms of the Dead, as such, we can touch and use all things in these realms. While you have not been fully transitioned into a member of the Realm yet, and won’t for a few years yet, I am going to help the process along a little, so that you can always be welcomed here.”

Saying that, she leans down, and puts her hand into the waters, speaking in the tongue of Seiðr, she tells the First Waters about Hadrian, tells them of his being, that he is a Death’s Chosen and of her own choice and asks them to accept him, and grant him the privilege of the Water’s Seiðrs.

The Waters shimmer a deep silver, and she knows her petition has been heard and accepted.

“It is safe now. Lean forward and cup a bit of the water, and drink it. It will grant you many boons.” Hel tells him.

Hadrian, Loki bless him, only glances at her once as if to say ‘you’re sure?’ and at her encouraging smile, he immediately drops to his knees and scoops a bit of the icy water into his hands.

He shivers a little, as no water is as cold as those of the First Waters, but he doesn’t hesitate to drink.  

As soon as he swallows, he throws his head back and his eyes light up silver-white as if they are lanterns guiding the dead on the path.

His body ripples, and Hel can see his fingers reforming, his body stretching a little. His feet and hands stretch, and Hel quickly waves her hand, changing the boys’ shoes to be bigger least his feet get squashed.

The First Waters grant many boons, but Hel isn’t sure what they would choose for her little brother. The Waters can see all things, Before, Now and After, and will know everything Hadrian has experienced, is experiencing and will experience one day, and decide the boons based on that. Hel just hopes they are merciful and grant him many good gifts.

It takes some time, but Hel is patient.

Time has little meaning in Niflheim after all.

After some unknown time, Hadrian’s eyes finally stop glowing, and he slumps a little. Skugga hugging him and holding him up a little.

“Wow.” Hadrian says, and Hel laughs.

--

Harry – Hadrian now, he supposes, has never felt like this before. Not even that one time Dudley dropped his entire pizza on the floor and aunt Petunia made him throw it out. Harry had snuck out that night and eaten the whole thing, very nearly making himself sick in the process but he had never felt that full in his life.

Until now.

He feels like he is about to burst from all the energy inside him!

His whole body feels… amazing! Even his fingers on his right hand don’t twinge like usual, since Dudley closed the car door on them that one time.

He feels his shoes growing but then he also feels his hands and feet and the rest of him growing!

Hadrian barely manages to open his eyes and then almost immediately panics because he can’t see! Everything is blurry!

At first, he thinks it’s because he must have lost his glasses somewhere, but when he instinctively touches his face, his glasses are sitting on the bridge of his nose as usual, though… all around the glasses it looks clear…?

He tentatively takes his glasses off and oh wow! He can see… he can see everything super clear!

The freakily beautiful waters have cured his eyes!!!

His new cloak – Skugga V – hugs him again. He must have swayed on his knees and he immediately pets her to reassure her. He had no idea that items can be male or female, but now that he knows he will pay more attention.

He feels… he can’t get over how amazing everything feels. Nothing hurts and he feels like he’s been eating full meals his whole life and never starved!

He looks at Hel in amazement, because he has heard before that gods and goddess were all-powerful but he hadn’t understood what that meant.

Hel – his new older Sister, and how awesome was that!!! – is smiling down at him, and he has a moment to think how lucky he is to have hit his head today and gotten to meet her.

She scowls, clearly having heard his thoughts – and how amazing is that? She can read his thoughts! – but he is pretty sure she is scowling about Uncle Vernon and not about meeting him.

“That man is no relation to you. Nor that horse of a woman. Now that the First Waters have judged you and deemed you worthy and ours, you will always be able to visit this realm, and even live here if you so wish. Though I recommend living on one of the other spheres while you haven’t fully crossed over. Once you collect all three of the Hallows – that is the task Death set out for you, as stated in my Book –  you will have even more freedom to come and go. While I have changed a little of the tapestry of your Fate – you won’t need to die to get rid of the soul shard which is no longer in your scar, as an example – I have not changed so much of it that you will not still be collecting the Hallows. Once you have them, make sure to drop a few drops of blood on the Stone, Cloak and Wand, and they will forevermore be yours, as Death planned.”

Hadrian looks at her quizzically, but memorizes her instructions just the same. She gives him an approving look which makes something warm swell up inside Harry the way his Seiðr had before.

“I speak about the Deathly Hallows, which reside on Earth. Now that you have been claimed by me, and with the mark of the First Waters in you, they will be drawn to you a lot more than they normally would. If you are close enough, they will find a way to come to you. As soon as you can, claim them. They will grant you powers. Though… I should probably tell you, that the First Waters grant many boons for their Chosen, and judging by the light-show you put on just now, I’d say the Waters definitely chose you. While you are not a God or even a Godling, the Waters have changed you. They would have corrected your growth deficiency, and broken bones or injuries you sustained and as you probably noticed, your eyesight. They also likely gave you All-Speak, since this is considered a minor blessing for most Gods and is one of the easiest to grant as a boon. Which is good for you, as parselspeak – the language and ability to speak to snakes – is considered a dark gift and you would likely face some prejudice for having it. I am afraid my Father is to blame for this, as he is a pareselmouth also and his favorite form is that of a snake. So much so that one of my brothers is Jörmungandr, the World Serpent. But with All-Speak, you will be able to understand every kind of language, and they you. This includes animals and creatures, aliens and gods of course. Hence the ‘All’ in the title.”

Hadrian can’t help staring her in astonishment, and then laughing a little in amazed shock. Hel – his big Sister! He has a big Sister! He isn’t alone anymore!! – keeps giving him this warm look whenever he smiled or laughed or giggled, and he makes a point in doing it more around her. His relatives – no, Hel said they were no kin of his anymore – the Dursley’s never like it when he was happy.

He wants to make Hel happy.

And that is just what he will do.

--

Hel thinks about it a bit, and then tries to explain.

“The Waters also allow you to stay in Niflheim without adverse effects to your physical body. Normally this is a privilege only reserved for those of us who serve Death in some capacity. When I was first sent here, I did not know that my physical body would be affected because I was Æsir, and when half my body started to rot away like any other corpse… I was rather horrified. It took the First Water’s healing ability to restore me to my former look, else I fear I would be a lot more disturbing to look at.”

Hadrian looked alarmed, so she tries to look reassuring, but then he asks, “What are the Æsir? And you said, ‘was’, does that mean we have become something else now?”

That was surprisingly intuitive for a child so young, and Hel gives him an approving nod. Asgardians might not have valued cunning but Hel is Loki’s daughter first.

“Technically, since we have both consumed the First Waters, we belong to Niflheim now. You are still Midgardian, and I am still Æsir, but both Midgardians and Æsir age, albeit at different rates. However, as we are of Niflheim now, we would not be affected by Time or Entropy anymore.”

Hadrian shot her a very alarmed look which confused her for a moment till she figured out what is bothering her little brother.

“Oh, do not worry, you will still age to full adulthood. But once you finish your final growth, your body will stop aging. Since it is your first life, and your body hasn’t completed the transition from the Living world to the service of Death, you will have until your 60^th year to produce progeny, after which, your body will complete the transition and you won’t be able to procreate afterwards, so if you plan to have a family, best do it earlier than not. Also, your children will not have Niflheim blessings, so they will age like normal mortals. Unless you chose to pledge any of your future children to Death also, of course.” Then Hel thinks about it for a second and add, “Or you feed them one of Idun’s apples.”

This is usually the hardest for most beings to accept. Balance must be maintained, so a bargain was struck long ago that Death servants can have children until they commit themselves fully to Death’s service. Afterwards, while they can visit their family, due to the changes of their bodies, their aura will get more disturbing and colder as times passes and mortals simply aren’t designed to spent too much time around the death auras of Niflheim residents. Those who try… well. Their families tend to get sick and die very quickly.

It isn’t fair, but it is still a mercy to be able to leave future generations, no matter how many limitations there are.

Hel herself has never had this opportunity because Odin banished her to Niflheim when she was quite young, and she lost her mortal self very quickly afterwards. Now, all she is, is a denizen and Queen of Niflheim. There are other beings who serve Death also of course, and they all managed their own domains which are connected to her own, but she doesn’t get the opportunity to see them often.

She is rather looking forward to Hadrian joining her.

…in a few years.

But the child also seems… happy to be here, with her. She has never met any mortal who was not either terrified of her, or wishing to get away from her as fast as possible. It is possible that the Waters have changed Hadrian a little, but she doesn’t think so, since he hasn’t shown even a bit of fear before, and even offered to die so he could live with her.

That is a boon she will not soon forget that he offered.

Yes, Hadrian Helbróðir deserves every bit of blessing Hel Lokidóttir will give him.

--

His new Sister Hel is amazing!

She is so beautiful, and so kind, and very funny and gentle too!

She gave him a home, and family and a beautiful cloak, and Waters that healed him and –

Hel is just amazing. Hadrian wishes he could stay here with her forever.

She tells him he can’t stay this time, but she promised to teach him how he can always come back when he wants.

Then she feeds the yucky thing in his head into the Waters. It actually lets out a kind of strangled scream but the Waters claim the shard very quickly, and suddenly it is no more.

Hadrian is glad, it did feel really yucky and Hel said it was hurting him.

Hel also showed him her palace, pure white and gleaming, and Hadrian has never seen anywhere more beautiful in his life! There are elegant arches and huge vaulted ceilings, gleaming banisters and so many, many new things for him to see! She also shows him all her servant-souls – souls that have earned the privilege of being so good in their life that they are chosen to serve her – and she even tells him that the entire West wing is his! Hadrian has never so much as had a room to his name, let alone an entire wing of a castle!

She shows him many rooms in the West wing, but suggests the biggest one she calls the Master Suite but which will be called Hadrian’s Suite from now on.

He doesn’t know what a Suite is but thinks it means a very-very-big-bedroom-which-is-really-an-apartment.

She also assigns a number of ghosts, spirits and undead as his personal ‘servants’. He doesn’t really know how he feels about having servants but she tells him that while he is away, they will make sure his rooms are kept clean and such, and if he ever needs anything he must only call them and they will help him. She also tells him he can call Ganglati and Ganglöt, who are her personal servants until he choses some of his own to ‘bestow the privilege on’ the way she has.

His older Sister is clearly even more amazing than he thought because she then shows him how to travel using his Skugga-V, and shows him the cracks between realities where shadows live and travel through. When Hadrian tries it, and lands exactly in the center of Hel’s living room in her private quarters, he knows his Wing won’t be too big if he can go visit her with just a thought.

She also shows him her library, which is so big Hadrian can’t see the end of the room at all. She tells him, that the library, in addition to books on every subject, has every book on Death Seiðr available in all the many spheres and realms. There are ‘of course’ books also on souls, spirits, all varieties of undead creatures, necromancy and even forbidden god-Seiðrs of creation and destruction.

Hel tells him that since she doesn’t exactly have a great deal of company to entertain her in Niflheim, she makes up for it by collecting all the knowledge from all the various worlds she collects souls from. Hadrian is welcome to read all of them, but he has to call her when he is working on anything Death-Seiðr-related in case it backfires on him. The First Waters have made him quite a bit sturdier than he would have otherwise been, so Hel is less worried about him now than she would have been when he first arrived, she tells him, but still it was best to be safe.

Though she cautions him not to try any of the god-Seiðrs until he is fully Death’s servant.

Considering he hasn’t even known he had Seiðrs until today, he promises her he will call her when he does anything like that, and gets one of those nice smiles from her again. She even pets his hair a bit as a reward! She doesn’t even feel all that cold any more to him, so he thinks maybe the First Waters changed him more than he realized.

She also shows him how to put his Seiðr on things so he can bring them to Niflheim, and they won’t just disintegrate after being here for a while.

A part of him still can’t believe all of this isn’t some kind of elaborate hallucination caused by the bump on his head, but considering Hel tells him she will be coming with him to ‘meet’ his relatives when he goes back today, he thinks maybe it isn’t just in his head.

He hopes it isn’t.

It’s literally everything he’s ever wanted.

Well, no, alright, he hadn’t exactly planned to die in order to get a family and a room and such, but death doesn’t seem so bad! Everyone always says death is super scary, but Hadrian doesn’t think that’s true at all!

He doesn’t think he will ever be able to fear Death again, at least not while his Sister is the Queen of the Underworld.

Hel also tells him that he isn’t likely to ever actually meet Death, as Death is a primordial entity, but that he will definitely feel Death’s touch from time to time. However, instead of making him feel weak, old and frail like everyone else around him, he will feel stronger and full of power.

This is rather interesting, and unexpected. And really, really, nifty.

He is a bit surprised when Hel looks so surprised when she asks him how old he actually is and he tells her he turned 6 a few months ago. Apparently, he is short for his age.

Or rather, he was.

Hel goes with him back to ‘reality’ or maybe he should call it ‘earth’? or, or! Midgard!

Right, so she goes back with him to Midgard.

It seems only a few minutes passed since he was knocked out since everyone looks to be in slow motion somehow.

Vernon has just turned around to go sit down, somehow not noticing that the boy he has just nearly killed wasn’t there anymore. Petunia has just stepped out of the kitchen and Dudley behind her when Hel manifests with him, right next to where his body had been, one of her hands holding him firmly by the shoulder.

She seems a bit ticked off, because she is somehow… flexing? Her aura, something Hadrian noticed she doesn’t really do around him. He can feel the unnatural chill emanating from her again, but notices that’s all he feels from her. The Waters have maybe given him immunity, as she doesn’t really feel all that cold to him anymore?

Vernon, Petunia and Dudley however seem to feel a great deal more, judging by how white they have all turned, and how much they are all trembling suddenly.

Then his Sister speaks:

“I am Hel, Goddess of Death. This is my little brother, Hadrian Helbróðir. You know him as Harry Potter. You have done him wrong, and I am here to make sure you never do so again. If you do not comply, I will collect your souls before their time. I normally don’t do this, but as the Goddess of the Underworld, I have that right if I deem a soul or a few, to be… irredeemable.”

Hel stares first at Vernon then at Petunia and then finally at Dudley who actually pisses himself!

Hadrian can’t really tell, but he thinks Hel is doing something with her aura because all three of the Dudley’s are on the floor suddenly. They don’t seem to be able to stand up from how afraid they are, so Hadrian thinks Hel is allowing them to feel, well, how ‘death’ feels.

He wonders if he will be able to get that ability when he grows up and goes to serve Death, like his Sister Hel.

He hopes so.

Hadrian realizes, distantly, that the Waters have grown him so much he is nearly as tall as Dudley now, if not as fat.

“Tha-tha-that’s no-no-no-not H-Harry!” Dudley whispers through his chattering teeth.

Hel turns a glare on him and Dudley actually tries to hide behind his mother, squealing in fear.

“This is how Hadrian would have looked if you had actually taken care of him the way you did your own son.” She then scoffs and says, “Though perhaps not, I see that I will be seeing this one sooner than not, considering how fat he is. I give him no more than 10 years before he is in my Kingdom.”

Petunia screams again and clutches Dudley, while he just tries to hide himself behind his mother, but his huge bulk is making that somewhat challenging.

Vernon looks like he wants to say something, until his Sister turns her silver eyes on him and then he promptly shuts up, shaking his head back and forth as if in denial.

Hel gives him a contemptuous look, and waves her hand again, and the Dursley’s – all three of them – suddenly pass out. Right there on the floor.

“Now that there are no more interruptions, let us go find you some suitable accommodations, shall we?” Hel says, while taking his hand and starting to walk towards the stairs.

Hadrian stops her, a bit embarrassed and points to the cupboard. “This is my room.”

Hel looks at the closet door, the large deadbolt on it, then looks at Hadrian as if to ask if he isn’t kidding. Hadrian thinks his face is going to catch on fire from how hot it is, but he manages to shake his head no, not kidding.

Hel purses her lips in a way Hadrian thinks means the Dursley’s might be getting their souls collected early anyway, and then waves her hand at the door, which flies open.

She leans down to peer into his cupboard, and promptly straightens up.

Glancing at Hadrian, she asks, “Is there anything in… there, which you wish to keep?”

Hadrian thinks about it, and considering he has never owned anything of his own, he shakes his head no.

If anything, Hel’s mouth gets thinner, and then she smiles down at him – still just as warm as before – and takes his hand, starting to lead him upstairs.

In the end, he gets Dudley’s second bedroom. Hel seems to have considered kicking the Dursley’s out of their own master bedroom, but Hadrian quickly tells her he would honestly feel weird sleeping on a bed they have slept in.

Hel considers it, and decides he is probably right. Instead, she puts her hand on the second bedroom door, and immediately the doorframe flashes a bright silver for a moment before going dark.

“Now no one who has not drank the First Waters can come inside.” She winks at him conspiratorially and Hadrian has to laugh and laugh because it will be amazing to have his own room no one except his Sister can follow him into.

Going into the room, Hadrian’s heart sinks a little. The room is bigger than his cupboard but the bed had one broken leg and the shelf is missing two of the lower shelves entirely. There is nothing else in there besides those two pieces of furniture.

Hel looks around, and then says, “Mind if I spruce it up a bit?”

Hadrian can’t nod fast enough.

Hel waves her hand, and suddenly, the room is a LOT bigger.

To Hadrian’s delight and astonishment, another three rooms grow out of it.

His bedroom is now big enough to consider kicking a ball around or possibly riding a bike in.

Hel nods to herself, and asks him, “Since we aren’t in Niflheim, I think we should decorate in some color, what do you think? What color would you prefer?”

Hadrian has never had the opportunity to choose a color before, so it takes him a while. In the end, he chooses a cross between blue and green. Hel shows it to him, calling it ‘aqua’ which means water apparently, and tells him it was her favorite color before she was sent to Niflheim. Hadrian then insists she uses it, and he can tell it really pleases her that her little brother likes the same color as she did. It is such a small thing, but Hadrian can tell it means something to his Sister, and immediately vows to himself to discover everything that pleases her and then to find a way to give it to her.

She makes him a massive canopy bed, exactly the same as the ones he has in Niflheim which he hasn’t even slept in – he has not one but two actual beds now! All in one day!

The detailing is the same, as are the heavy curtains, except they are a beautiful and bright aqua. Hel also enlarged his windows to reach the floor and adds a reading nook there, complete with matching pillows in various shades of blue.

A wave of her hand, and a huge bookshelf suddenly springs up directly out of the floorboards on the far wall.

Hel makes a hm-ing sound, and then walks up to the shelf, and places her hand on it. She says something to the bookshelf that Hadrian can’t quite hear and just like the door, the shelf flashes a bright silver for a moment before the Seiðr settles into the wood.

Hel waves him over, and says, “This shelf is now tied to my library. Place your hand on the wood here, and tell it either what you are looking for, the author or the name of the book, and that book or books will appear here.”

Hadrian is so excited he wants to jump up and down like he has seem Dudley do before in excitement! He can read any book he wants now!

She cautions him that the books on his shelves are all replicas of the originals, since the originals cannot leave Niflheim, but since that doesn’t mean much to Hadrian because it still means he can read anything he wants, especially with the First Waters giving him All-speak, so he can even read the dead languages!

“Now, let’s take care of the rest, shall we?”

20 minutes later, Hadrian has a bathroom – the toilet doesn’t use water at all, but er, vanishes things instead, and the bathtub is more of a swimming pool than a tub. Hel apparently tells the various pipes in the neighborhood to come help, and they all did.

He has a sitting area, complete with sofa and guest chairs, in matching Aqua. Considering only Hel can come in, Hadrian wonders why she bothers with them but it’s not like he will complain.

Hel even makes him a kitchen, where he doesn’t have to cook so much as place his hand on a rune circle and food just sort of… appears for him. He has no idea where it’s coming from, but Hel assures him that whatever he asks for will show up.

She casually tells him that since he has ingested the First Waters, he won’t ever starve to death anyway, since the Seiðr in the Waters is so potent, that it is unlikely his human body would ever use it up in one or several lifetimes. Hadrian is astonished to learn that he apparently will feel hungry, for a short while, then even the hunger pangs will go away, because his body has been completely infused in the First Waters from just that one sip, and their Seiðr is enough to sustain him completely, even while he grows up.  

Hel still advises him to eat when he can, because it is a mortal pleasure he won’t have forever, and because it will save up the Seiðr for other ‘more interesting things’, according to her, but she does tell him he doesn’t have to worry about it too much.

After all, she tells him, he isn’t entirely mortal anymore.

Hadrian considers panicking about this, but when he thinks about it, being mortal really just means he could get hurt before, and now he can’t. So, he supposes it was alright to not be mortal any more. A little while ago he was willing to die, so losing some of his mortality really isn’t such a big deal, now that he is thinking about it.

Hel also gives him a pouch, no bigger than his hand, which once he thumbs the black bead keeping the bag closed, opens a lip wide enough to fit him into it.

His Sister explains that every world which dies – meaning all its citizens have died off – its belongings, riches and dead go to the Underworld, and depending on where the planet in question was located, her various colleagues and herself get to split the riches. She informs him that since she had extremely little use for material wealth, she has taken the liberty of giving him some of her share. When he looks, he feels a bit faint, because his pouch contains gems the size of fists – and not even Hadrian’s fists, but his former-uncles! – unrefined gold ingots, delicate jewelry that looks like it might break if Hadrian so much as sneezes, precious woods, ingredients he has never seen before and the like. All the items are nicely organized with little flaps to divide the items so the gems, for example, don’t get scratched up by the various metals he finds in his pouch.

Hel tells him that while his parents have likely left him an inheritance – which is news to him – he will first have to figure out where they left it, and with whom.

Hadrian does remember to ask her if she happens to know how to get to the Seiðr community she mentioned existing in England, since he has no idea where it is, but Hel tells him that she hasn’t been back on Midgard for ‘some time’, which Hadrian understands as ‘a very long time, likely before you had ancestors’, so she isn’t completely sure. However, it will be easy enough to find with the concentration of Seiðr.

Once she has finished summoning the various carpets, cutlery, furniture pieces, curtains, night lights, vases, shelves, decorations, paintings, furniture and the like, she tells him that only the ceiling is left. Hadrian is confused why the ceiling is not considered ready, when she waves her hand over the plain white ceiling, and to Hadrian’s astonishment, it turns into the night sky, except without any pollution, and there are so many stars.

Hel tells him that she enchanted it, to show him the sky every day, if he wants; or it can stay set on ‘night’ so he can learn all the constellations visible from his planet and hemisphere. Hadrian then asks if she can make it so he can see the night sky from Niflheim also. She beams at him, and waves her hand again, and suddenly a whole different set of stars appear together with the silver auroras waving like huge ethereal curtains across the sky. She shows him how to control it with intent, and Hadrian has to hug her for a good few minutes because she changed his life so much in just one day that he can barely even process it.

Hadrian also notices that Hel clings a little to him when he hugs her, and figures that like him, not many people have ever hugged Hel. Or if they had, it has been some times since they last did, and makes a note to hug her as often as possible even though he isn’t use to it himself.

It must be okay to have this if it would make her happy.

They go back downstairs, and Hel revives the Dursley’s, who continue to whimper the moment they see her. She then proceeds to set the law down:

Hadrian is not allowed to do chores. He now lives in the second bedroom, and none of the Dursley’s can go into his room. They are not allowed to take his stuff or hurt him in any way. They are not allowed to verbally abuse him or call him anything besides ‘Hadrian’. They are to give him food if he asks for it, and they are not to interfere with him in any way otherwise.

His Sister is clearly allowing her aura to put the fear of Death into the Dursley’s, and they are so terrified they can’t even speak, only sit on the floor and quiver.

She also informs them that they are very fortunate, because mortals don’t usually get the opportunity to know what happens after death, but Hel is ‘generous enough to tell them’. She then proceeds to inform them that mortals who abuse children and younglings have a special hell waiting for them, and that they will not be allowed to reincarnate until they have paid their debt for their crimes. Hel lets the Dursley’s know that they already have to pay for 6 years’ worth of child neglect and abuse, and it would be ‘wise’ for them to change their ways at speed if they did not wish to spend longer than one lifetime suffering as spirits.

Dudley pisses himself again, and the Dursley’s both nod frantically when Hel asks if she has been clear enough.

Hadrian thinks they would agree to anything so long as she left and never came back.

“Hadrian is a Chosen of Death. He is going to be there when you die. I suggest you reevaluate your life choices, but in case you decide not to, I will be but a breath away from him, and I will be most displeased if I have to come back because of your poor behavior.”

When Hel says the words ‘most displeased’, she infuses her Voice with her Godhead so that the words are imbued with her power. Hadrian isn’t completely sure, but he thinks if the Dursely’s so much as have an ill thought towards him, they will likely suffer the sensation of Death breathing down their necks immediately.

Hadrian really can’t help feeling this is a form of just desert for them.

--

Rather than making the Dursley’s crawl back to their rooms – a feat Hadrian isn’t even sure Dudley is capable of, considering the stairs – Hel simply places her hand on his shoulder, and Hadrian’s vision is obscured by shadows until they are standing on a street somewhere, outside.

Hadrian looks around, and then has to stop himself from gaping, because…

The street is unlike any he has ever seen, and the only reason he knows he is still somewhere on Earth is because the smell of car exhaust can still be detected, even though Hadrian can’t see or hear a single car anywhere.

What he does see however are many people all dressed in some kind of laboratory robe… except the robes aren’t white but every color of the rainbow. Some of the people are wearing pointy hats as if –

“Where are we?” Hadrian can’t help ask his Sister.

“This is one of the two places on this Island which had a large Seiðr signature. It was closer than the other one, so I brought us here. It seems there are many sorcerers living here.” Hel says, as she too looks around in curiosity.

She is clearly seeing more than he is, because she mutters, “Fascinating, the wards exclude all those with no Seiðr in them. Rather clever…”

Hadrian glances at her, and she adds, “They have wards up, around this area. Anyone with no Seiðr cannot see it and will reflexively leave the area if they accidentally walk into it. I sense many different species of Seiðr users here…”

She says this, as she glances at a woman slips into a dark alley Hadrian hasn’t even noticed. Her face is covered in warts and her clothes are rather filthy also.

Is she ill?

“I do believe that was a hag.” Hel says, still looking at the direction the wart-woman has disappeared in.

Hadrian blinks, then asks, “Hag. Like in the story books? They are real?”

“One must always keep an open mind, Hadrian.” She tells him without answering, and starts to walk them down the wider, brighter street.

All around Hadrian, there are things he has never seen before, so he has to ask, “We… are really on Earth? I mean, Midgard?”

Hel seems to actually check, and then nods, “We are. Unless those three despicable creatures we left behind aren’t on Midgard, and I have somehow been duped.”

Considering the chances of anything ‘duping’ a Goddess of Death is highly unlikely in Hadrian’s opinion, he decides they definitely are on his home planet.

“So, this place was just… hidden? All this time?” Hadrian asks in wonder, because wow that must have taken them a lot of effort.

Hel looks down at him, and then gets a thoughtful expression on her face, “I think we need some information. Let us go find a place of knowledge, shall we?”

‘A place of knowledge’ turns out to be a bookstore, and Hadrian is never calling it anything but A Place of Knowledge from now on.

Inside, they discover they need an entirely different currency, judging by the strange golden and silver coins the people paying at the front are handing over.

Hel shrugs, and simply walks them deeper into the bookstore, seemingly unconcerned.

Since she isn’t, Hadrian figures he doesn’t need to be either.

She leads them towards the History section, and there, after a good hour of reading, they discover that there is something called the Statue of Secrecy, which hides the Seiðr people – all of them, including some Hadrian never honestly imagined existed – from the rest of the not-Seiðr people.

This was done because the not-Seiðr people burned or killed the Seiðr people. Hel doesn’t look surprised in the least, and Hadrian figures this is a regular thing she has seen many times.

There have been a few wars about it since, though more wars with something called Goblins. The book helpfully has an illustration – one that moves and very nearly makes Hadrian drop his book – of a rather vicious and scary looking creature. Until he realizes it is about his height, and then they become a little less scary.

The thing which catches Hadrian’s attention however is small tidbit on the bottom of the page which says, almost like an afterthought, that Goblins now control the monetary system in the Wizarding World.

Hadrian blinks, and flips back a few pages to check…

“What is it?” Hel asks him, having picked up a book on recent Wizarding events.

“It says here that in the last Wizarding/Goblin war, the Wizards won, but then in the same chapter, it also says the Goblins control all the money in the Wizarding World…” Hadrian says, sounding rather confused even to his own ears.

Wizards… couldn’t be that stupid, could they?

Hel blinks down at him, and makes a ‘gimme’ gesture to his book. Hadrian obligingly hands it to her.

After a few minutes of reading, she says, “Hm.”

Hadrian looks at her, hoping she would make it all make sense, but instead she just says, “I do believe we will need to… supplement your education, if this is a leading example of Wizarding logic, self-delusion and a supreme lack of general common sense.”

Hadrian stares at her, and sighing, nods.

Wizards are no better than not-Seiðr people it seems.

--

They discover in another book that the Goblin-run banks are called Gringotts and that there is one in the district they are in. The district they are in is called Diagon Alley, and there is an entrance to it, through a pub called The Leaky Cauldron. This district also has a bunch of shops Hadrian is eager to check out, until Hel passes him the book on recent Wizarding events and he learns that he is in the book.

He feels a little faint, because there, in an Earth – Midgard? Midgardian? Midgardese? – book, is everything Hel has told him earlier. His parents are war heroes. He is a celebrity, even though it was his mother who killed Tom Voldie, not him. Hadrian supposes there was no one there who saw it, so people just made up their own story.

He wonders briefly who brought him to his former-family.

After some time, which Hadrian honestly lost track of, Hel decides they have spent enough time in the Place of Knowledge, and walks them up to the front where the cashier is.

Hadrian trails behind her, because he has a feeling…

Hel is not projecting her aura, but the young man at the checkout immediately stills when he sees her, and starts swallowing convulsively.

Hadrian is completely sure he has no idea why he suddenly feels so scared but somehow, maybe an animal instinct everyone still possesses, the young man knows that something absolutely terrifying is standing right in front of him.

Hel smiles at him, and the young man actually makes a nngh sound at the back of his throat.

“I wish a copy of every book in your establishment. We will be back in two hours for them, have them ready.” Saying this, she turns to go.

Hadrian glances at the poor young man, who looks ready to pass out, and has his mouth open as if he wishes to speak but somehow fear is making it impossible.

“Thank you.” Hadrian says, and hurries to join Hel outside.

“How will we pay for those books? I don’t have any of the currency they use here.” Hadrian thinks to ask her once they are outside and walking down the cobbled road again.

“We shall barter. I will add fortune to the last ten years of his life, and a peaceful death, in exchange for the books. It is more than generous.” She tells him confidently, and Hadrian has a moment to think, ‘Huh! Did not know that was a possibility!’ but since he has suspended his disbelief when he drank the First Waters, he doesn’t dwell on it too much, only wonders how long it will take him to learn how to grant that also.

“Normally, I would pay with gemstones, as I have more of those than I know what to do with – you would be amazed how many bury their dead with jewelry and precious items – but books are knowledge, and thus I generally value them higher than mere items or goods.” She tells him casually, while her eyes glance and dismiss a storefront that seems to be selling cleaning equipment, judging by the number of brooms displayed.

Hadrian realizes they are walking toward a tall white building, and wonders if this is Gringotts.

When they get close enough, Hadrian realizes the two creatures on each side of the large door must be Goblins, since they look like the creatures in the book. They are in full armor, and each hold a spear, one which they suddenly point at them but… Hadrian can tell, it is more a self-defense gesture than a threat towards them. The Goblins must have sensed his Sister and simply reacted.

Hadrian belatedly remembers reading that they are a warrior race. He feels a bit silly not having realized this before, considering how many wars with Wizards and other creatures they have had but he blames it on information overload.

Hel did tell him it might happen for the next few months, and that he should simply take it in and not think too hard about anything until he has had time to process everything.

Hadrian really likes his big Sister.

She has not only changed his life; she continues to do it with her knowledge and her insights and Hadrian swears again to himself that he will follow wherever she leads him. So far, it has only been the best thing that has ever happened to him, and he is completely convinced it will only continue to be so.

The two Goblins who point spears at them don’t actually try to stop them from entering, so they do.

Inside, it is a lot darker and cooler, despite the white-marble-with-gold-veins-everywhere, and Hadrian can see a lot of teller-boots with Goblins working away in them.

As soon as they walk in however, everyone in the bank freezes. Or more accurately, the Goblins freeze. Noticing their distraction, the Wizards and Witches turn towards them, and then suddenly they too freeze.

An old looking Goblin breaks the freezing stalemate, by saying something in a harsh, guttural language which takes Hadrian a moment to comprehend even with the All-Speak translating it.

“Code Black! Activate the Wards!”

A Goblin next to him jumps, clearly startled, but immediately places his palm on a sigil.

Suddenly, all the gold veins inside the white marble light up, and from one blink to the next, every Witch and Wizard disappear from the bank.

Judging by the sudden commotion outside, they have been kicked out of the bank.

All the Goblins are standing, still frozen, except the old Goblin who walks up to them slowly.

He bows his head in greeting, more a sign of respect than a gesture of submission, Hadrian notices, and asks, this time in English, “Blessings be on you, Dea Mortis. Has Death come for Gringotts, my lady, or for me personally, this day?”

Hel looks at the old Goblin, maybe admiring his lack of fear, and smiles, saying, “Not today. Today, I am escorting my little brother, and we came to barter.”

Hadrian has never seen so many people – creatures? Er. – all slump in relief at once. Only the old Goblin in front of them closes his eyes, in his own version of a slump maybe, but showed no other outward sign of relief.

Hadrian rather admired his poise and makes a note to emulate it if at all possible.

He thinks Hel approves too, since her smile only gets wider.

The old Goblin doesn’t let them down, gathering his composure in under a breath, and gesturing them deeper into the bank, with a “Of course, Dea. Please, follow me.”

Hadrian then gets to admire the amount of courage this old Goblin has because he turns his back to them, in order to better lead them forward. It must be a great show of trust, because all the Goblins bow as they pass.

Hadrian still notes that no one actually breaths till they turn down a hallway.

The old Goblin leads them to an office, and immediately offers them seating at a plush red sofa. A cold drink appears as they sit down for both of them.

Hel doesn’t touch hers, but Hadrian is thirsty, and figures with Hel there, it should be safe enough, so he takes a sip.

Lemonade.

Hadrian’s only had it once before, and he had absolutely loved it, so he takes another sip.

The old Goblin seems to want to smile at him, so Hadrian thinks maybe he is pleased Hadrian is drinking his drink? Why, though?

Once they are seated, the Goblin takes a seat opposite of them, but Hadrian notices that he is practically kneeling, his butt is barely touching the sofa, and his body language makes Hadrian think he is ready to fall to his knees at any time.

“Dea, how may I be of service to you?” he asks, sounding… apprehensive? Eager? Hadrian doesn’t think he knows enough about Goblins to tell honestly.

“As I said earlier, I am here escorting my little brother, through his discovery of his Seiðr heritage. He learned he is a Wizard, but he is also a Chosen. He has already started his transition. His name is Hadrian Helbróðir, but he has another name in your world. This name, only you and I will know, and no third shall know while you draw breath. I am understood, am I not?” Hel sounds relaxed, like a Queen who is used to being obeyed, and who is used to issuing orders.

Hadrian supposes she is that. 

The old Goblin swallows, but immediately says, “Yes, Dea.”

“His other name is Harry Potter, and he was indeed, Marked. I have removed that mark, as he is Chosen by Death.” Hel pauses here, for a second only but it’s enough for the old Goblin to lean forward just a fraction more, as if he can’t help himself. “He is my little brother, and you will always call him Hadrian Helbróðir.”

“Yes, Dea.” The old Goblin says, his eyes never leaving Hel’s own.

Maybe he can’t. Maybe he is that brave.

“Good. Now, you will convert these gems, at a fair rate – this I insist – and deposit it in my little brother’s new vault. Then, you will show us how to operate this world’s currency and provide some recommendations on where to obtain clothing for my brother, and other useful items which you think a young man who just discovered he is a Wizard should have.” Hel tells him, suddenly sounding a lot more friendly, which immediately had the old Goblin relaxing.

“Yes, Dea. It would be Ragnock’s pleasure to serve you and your brother. I will guard his secrets with my life, this I swear.” The old Goblin says, holding up three fingers, which suddenly glow, and Hadrian wonders if he just made some kind of Seiðr vow.

Hel smiles truly then, looking pleased.

---

Hadrian learns that ‘Ragnock’ is actually King Ragnock, which then makes him realize he has somehow become Cinderella.

…he even has the new clothes to prove it.

Hel, thanks to the list from a very helpful Ragnock – Hadrian supposes anyone would want to be helpful to Death, after being told they still had a long time to go before Death came for them as it must for everyone. – they spent the rest of the afternoon shopping and terrifying absolutely everyone with Hel’s presence.

On the plus side, no one so much as suspected he is Harry Potter.

No wonder too, the books all say he has a lightning-bolt scar, round glasses and messy black hair.

Considering he only has the messy hair, and considering most people are physically incapable of looking away from Hel to even notice him – sometimes even when Hel points straight at him, they sort of have to force their eyes to follow her hand and consequently look at him. It’s almost funny. – which admittedly makes clothes shopping somewhat challenging.

The other issue is that his clothing isn’t normal.

Well. He supposes it is normal in the Wizarding World, but…

Everything comes with a cape, for one.

A great many of the designs on his new clothes move, for two.

Sometimes, they even blink all manner of lights, other times they reflect light in such a way to practically come off the cloth, or sparkle, or –

But on the plus side, Hel has a cape, and she looks awesome in it, so maybe Hadrian can try it also? Plus, he has Skugga so he doesn’t really need any other cape.

Sensing that he isn’t exactly decided, the poor Madam Malkin immediately summons a thick book of designs and offers it to them to choose, after which everything goes a lot smoother.

Since Hadrian has no sense or concept of fashion, having always worn what was given to him, he asked Hel for help right away.

Hel looks rather pleased that he asks her opinion, and they spend a companionable twenty minutes choosing and discarding designs.

They chose mostly blues and greens for him, due to his eyes, and Hadrian insists on some pants. He has no idea what they have against pants, these Wizards.

Apparently, the Scottish Wizards didn’t wear knickers same as the non-Seiðr.

So weird.

Even Hel says so, but she says it is also a longtime tradition in some parts of the Mediterranean and Indus world as well.

Hadrian can only shake his head.

He asks the Madam to make him some normal pants and shirts, in various colors, and then asks her to Wizard-it-up with cloaks, capes and other such things which make one blend in.

The Madam clearly takes her task very seriously, maybe because she always does but also maybe because Death is literally sitting opposite of her and that seems to motivate people, because she personally does the Seiðr to make his clothes. She also choses the highest quality material she has, both for his clothes and his uniform. It is evident in the stitching and in all the detailed finishes too.

She also sells him shoes in something called Dragonhide, which Hel assures him is good quality leather.

Hel insists he get several pairs for various occasions, and duplicates for his apartment in her realm.

She insists the same for his clothes, and swallows up the mounds and mounds that Madam Malkin produces directly into her long dress-sleeve.

Hadrian has a moment to wonder if it is like a pocket universe inside, because that’s what the sci-fi books would have said, but he honestly doesn’t know.

The Madam is shaking from stress by the time they are done, despite Hel having assured her she was not collecting her soul today, multiple times.

For some interesting reason, the Seiðr folk seems to be able to immediately identify Hel’s Godhood, without her needing to say anything.

It could be the extremely worrying and oppressive aura which Hel seems to naturally exude even when she isn’t really trying.

She feels… terrifying, is what she says when Hadrian asks her. To every person they encounter. Some outright run from them, others freeze.

Most freeze.

Hadrian wonders why he has never feared her, even before she was his Sister.

Before the First Waters which muted everything that once scared him. He knows now it has the power to grant that kind of confidence.

He remembers feeling the aura but… Hel’s eyes, had been warm and curious when she first looked at him.

Hadrian was perhaps too used to being terrified, so instead he had focused on the eyes which would tell him more than his terror would.

-- The Madam’s eager waving of goodbye snaps him out of his memories.

Hel glances at him in concern, and he smiles up at her, reassuring her with his happiness that everything is okay now that she is with him.

She smiles back at him and glances down at the list Ragnock provided, likely wondering what else they need to get Hadrian. Considering she doesn’t really know how Eart – Midgard works, Hadrian suggests they try to find some toiletries for him, which seems to cheer Hel up a lot for some strange reason.

Turns out, Hel is rather enamored with Midgard perfumes, and she spends a good long time sniffing every bottle available, while the proprietress stands by their sides and trembles.

She is a young blond Witch by the name of Hazel, and she has a propensity to babble when she is nervous. Hadrian learns more than he ever wants to know about how to extract the purest form of perfume from Fire lilies and how to collect the fragrant dew from Centaur’s Bane.

Hazel also calms down some once Hel casually comments that she isn’t sure which hair tonic would suite Hadrian best, and it seems the girl’s professionalism and love for all things beauty-care actually helps her overcome her fear of Hel for a little while to help Hadrian find both a body wash and a hair shampoo. She also insists he takes some Sleekeazy and a new product she swears will help his hair be tamer called Silkfall.

Hel is fascinated, but she is a Goddess, her hair is always perfect, so she doesn’t bother buying any for herself.

She does insist Hadrian get all the potions for teeth-care, and at first, Hadrian is surprised Wizards don’t brush their teeth at all, but Hazel tells him the teeth-potions come in several different flavors of mint, chocolate, caramel and butterbeer and just swishing them in one’s mouth three times is more than enough to take care of any cavities.

Hel suggests he buys some of each kind, even the beer one, which he has never heard of, so he can try it.

She also buys him everything else she thinks he might need, even things he won’t need for years yet, such as facial hair removing potions and some kind of face perfume she tells him he might want to use after the hair removing potion.

Hazel is happy to make such a large order but starts to shake again when Hel smiles at her and tells her she has a pretty soul.

There are quite a few items when it is all said and done, but Hel simply puts it all in her sleeve again while Hazel gapes at them.

Hel then takes them into a candy store, much to Hadrian’s surprise, and insists they get a ridiculous amount of candy and chocolates.

She privately confesses to him that her Father has a huge sweet tooth, and that Hel has very fond memories of him bringing her all types of sweets and pastries from his travels.

Hadrian having read between the lines, figures out this is a way for her to feel close to her dad, so he helps her with buying half the store, despite knowing he likely won’t be able to eat that many sweets by himself. This is also when he learns that while Hel doesn’t need to eat, same as him now, she does really enjoy it still when she visits other realms, so Hadrian convinces her that they should stop and have lunch somewhere. However, as they look around, they realize that besides a rather dingy looking pub called the Leaky Cauldron, there is nowhere really to eat there, except maybe ice-cream.

Hel purses her lips a bit but then suggests they try the other concentration of Seiðr. Hadrian wants to ask how far it is, till she takes his hand, and from one blink to another, they have crossed through the shadows to come out on a surprisingly similar cobbled street. Hadrian looks around and sees a sign that proudly proclaims this to be ‘Hogsmeade’.

They see a pub called the Three Broomsticks, right opposite of where they came out of the shadows, and head towards it. Hadrian is excited and tells his Sister that this way, they can try out the strange foods the Seiðr world has to offer.

Hel is clearly in the mood to indulge him, because she agrees easily enough, but when they arrive at the Broomstick, they realize it is rather packed.

Or well, it was, for a few moments, because as soon as they walk in, everyone does the freeze-whimper-scramble thing, and suddenly, the pub is a lot emptier than it was a moment ago. Some people have apparently literally popped out of existence as soon as they laid eyes on Hel.

Hel gives him a chagrined smile, but Hadrian just gives her his own reassuring one and they sit themselves down in a booth furthest from the door.

There is a bit of a pause when they sit down, because the few patrons who have frozen in fear seem to snap out of it, and quickly leave money on their table before exiting at speed. One of the patrons hasn’t even eaten a bite of his food before he ran.

Hadrian would feel bad, but Hel can’t help being what she is, so he doesn’t. Instead, he looks around and spots a middle-aged Witch with long curly hair looking like she is trying to strangle the menus in her hand and clearly trying to work up the nerve to approach them.

Somehow, making eye contact with Hadrian seems to bolster her courage, and she takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders, turn around to grab something from the counter, and when she turns back, she plasters on a smile which looks only a little strained and approaches their table with a ladened tray.

“My lady,” she curtsies and surprisingly, and rather reverently, she places a large goblet of red wine in front of Hel, as well as a rather dark black bread, almost like an offering, then quickly looks down again.

Hadrian, with a start, realizes it might actually be an offering, because the gesture makes Hel smile, and turn to the woman.

“My thanks. It is appreciated.” Hel tells her kindly. The lady tries to smile, but it is still quite nervous, so Hel says, “My brother and I are here to partake in some lunch, nothing more. No one here is in any danger today.” And Hadrian can see the lady swallow but also relax a fraction.

“It is a great honor, my lady. We at the Three Broomsticks always offer our Blót on all the appropriate holidays, to you, and the other Gods. We pride ourselves in following the Olde Ways you have set before us.” The woman says, eyes still cast down, in deference.

Hel looks interested now, and stares at the bowed woman’s head, more closely this time. It is clear to Hadrian that his Sister has sucked in her aura as much as she can. It is still emanating from her, but considerably less than before. “What is your name, Seiðrkona?”

The woman glanced up quickly and then down again, “I am called Rosmerta. Rosmerta Blackwood, my lady.”  

“Rosmerta. Named after the Goddess of fertility and abundance. A good name for a Seiðrkona.” Hel then looks around the pub, and her eyes go a little distant, then she says, “I like this place, Rosmerta. It is open to all creatures. Something I do not see often on Midgard. For that, and for your piety, no death shall visit here while my brother lives among you. This is my gift to you.”

Rosmerta’s green eyes widen rather dramatically, and she drops into an even deeper curtsy, head bowed in respect, saying, “Thank you, my Lady! I am most grateful!” 

Hadrian gives Hel a look after the happy Rosmerta has left, and says, “That was really nice of you.” The ‘but why?’ goes unsaid but Hel definitely hears it.

She laughs a little, and reaches over to ruffle his hair, something she has been doing all day on and off, much to Hadrian’s delight, saying, “Of course. I want my little brother to have a good place to go to eat when he visits this Seiðrthwaite.” And for others not to fear him, goes unsaid.

Hadrian cocks his head, and asks, “Seiðr village? Is that what this is?”

“It does look to be so.” Hel tells him, “I sense a larger amount of Seiðr not far from here, so I think perhaps there is a larger settlement further north from here.”

Rosmerta comes back then, a bit pink in the cheeks, probably because she forgot to give them the menus when she was here, but she quickly offers her recommendations to them both, and they both order the wild rabbit strew. Hel orders them both mead, which she is very pleased to learn the Three Broomstick is apparently well known for, and Hadrian thinks they might be coming back here again soon just for that if nothing else.

Rosmerta looks besides herself with happiness to be able to please Hel, and quickly brings them huge tankards of the stuff. Hadrian notices that the tankards left abandoned on the tables are half the size of theirs, but doesn’t say anything.

Hadrian is a little apprehensive to be drinking alcohol, but when he takes a sip, he is surprised to find the drink both thick and sweet. He is also surprised that he feels very little of the alcohol at all.

“Your body will process it very quickly, because you drank the First Waters. No toxins can survive in you for any length of time. The more toxic or poisonous, the faster your body will burn through it. A bit of a shame, since mortal drinks will never be able to intoxicate you, but I have it on good authority that there are still a few alcohols in the cosmos which will work on even us, at least for a short time. My Father used to make a cider from Idunn’s apples which he would regularly steal as a young God, and that drink, according to Uncle Thor, does pack a serious punch.” Hel tells him while drinking half her mead in one go.

She also waves her hand over the goblet of red wine and black bread, and her eyes flash silver for a moment, as the items disappear as if they had never been there.

Hadrian gives her a quizzical look, so she tells him, “While as Death’s Goddess, I no longer need offerings and prayer to maintain my power, it is always very nice to receive some, as it gives us a nice boost just the same. Plus, my worshippers would be upset if I did not take their sincere offerings.”

“Will this happen to me too?” Hadrian wonders aloud.

“Hard to say, since you were not born a God or a Godling. You will instead grow into who you need to be, so I am not sure. It has been long and long since a mortal held the title ‘Master’. We will just have to wait and see what Death has in store for you.” She tells him, and he has to nod, because it’s not like he can do anything about it. He isn’t a god after all.

Their stew is incredible, and Hadrian practically licks his plate clean, much to Rosmerta’s obvious pleasure.

Hel doesn’t so much eat her food, as she sort of sniffs it very, very hard, and the stew vanishes as it was eaten.

“Eating can be…messy. Thus, most gods absorb the essence of the food directly. It allows us to taste all of it, without having… waste products later.”

Hadrian blanches while picturing gods trying to use the toilet, and quickly asks Hel to teach him how to do this as soon as possible. Hel laughs and tells him to wait a few more years, as mortal years are meant for mortal pleasure which Hadrian should enjoy while he can.

He can see her point, but still wishes he never had to use the bathroom again. It would be so much cleaner.

He does notice she eats the candies outright though.

--

After they finish their meal, Hel debates taking them to the northern concentration of Seiðr, but something makes her pause, so instead, she takes them to the edges of a forest, and there Hadrian gets a good look at a… castle?

Hel says the concentration of Seiðr comes from this place, but Hadrian isn’t sure he wants to go up there and see what that is about. There is no one in the large yard in front of the castle, though Hadrian does notice a small wooden cabin showing signs of smoke coming out of the chimney, so clearly, there are people living here. Maybe the caretaker?

Either way, Hel doesn’t let them linger long there, and takes them back to the Diagonal Alley. … no, she said it was called Diagon Alley.

There, they go back to the bookstore to pick up her large order, and the young man at the store looks frazzled and stressed when he sees them again.

He has however followed Hel’s instruction and gotten them a copy of each book, which he has shrunk down to the size of a marble. Hadrian is grateful because no matter how big Hel’s sleeve is, hundreds of thousands of books cannot be easy to carry.

The poor young man looks like he might get a heart attack when Hel deposits a virtual mound of those golden galleon on his counter. It is taller than the boy himself and for a moment Hadrian wonders how the bloke will carry all those coins, but that isn’t really his problem. They take their purchase and leave the bloke to figure it out, who simply flips the sign on the door to ‘closed’, so Hadrian assumes he will be sorting that out soon.

Hadrian wonders why Hel decided not to give him a boon but pay with gold instead, and she explains to him that boons are not to be given out lightly as they can sometimes cause ripples in reality which might disrupt the Norns plans and they tend to get very cross about that.

Once they are done, they simply stroll around Diagon for a bit.

They pass by a branch-off to their left, and the street there looks a lot darker and considerably less well-kept.

Hadrian sees a figure – a man, he thinks – with glowing eyes, who immediately bows deeply when Hel looks at him.

At Hadrian’s inquiring look, she tells him very quietly, “Vampire. They are one of Death’s minions, neither dead nor alive, but permanently stuck in the in-between.”

Hadrian feels his eyes widen a bit, and glances back at the man, who smiles a little at him and bows again, more shallowly, but still.

“If Vampires are real, are werewolves and giants and dragons real too?” Hadrian thinks to ask her.

“They are. However, werewolves are not one of Death’s. Neither are giants – I assume you mean the kind you have on Midgard, yes? Green, stupid and generally barely sentient? They are considerably smaller than real giants who reside on Jötunheim or those of Muspelheim.”

Hadrian is regretting asking a bit, but also not, because if all of those were real then –

“And yes, dragons exist also. Dragons have existed for as long as the Yggdrasill has existed.”

“Really??”

“Yes. One of the most famous of dragons’ lives on Niflheim. I am actually surprised we didn’t see him today; he must have been roaming. He is usually by the First Waters, by Hvergelmir’s shores actually. You can often see him chewing on the roots of the Yggdrasill. His name is Niðhǫggr. Next time you come to Niflheim, I’ll take you to meet him. Niðhǫggr has a taste for the truly evil, as his Seiðr is thus that by devour evil things, he grows stronger. You will like him.” Hel tells him indulgently.

“Awesome!”

Hel laughs, “You are still very young, little brother. I promise, I will teach you all that you need to know.”

Hadrian wants to say something but he doesn’t have the words, so instead, he just carefully reaches his hand over and picks up hers, holding it the way he has seen children hold their mother’s hand. She is icy cold as usual, but a look of such surprise comes over her when she looks down at him that he can’t help smile at her, and suddenly he can speak.

“I am so glad, that I met you. It is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I used to wish for someone to come and save me from… you know.” He waves his other hand, the one not holding hers, to indicate his life and the world maybe, “but I never imagined it would be this… wonderful.” He has to pause then because he fears he will cry, but he still manages to say again, “I am so glad I met you.”

Hel’s whole face goes from surprised to soft in a heartbeat, and she stops walking, just to bend down and hug him.

He clutches her, as tightly as he can, because she is his now. She claimed him and he is never ever ever ever letting her go.

“I am glad to, little brother. We would always have met, but this way, I get to have your childhood too, and for that, I will be offering many gifts to the Norns.”

“I will too. What do they like?” Hadrian asks, and Hel has to laugh.

All the Witches and Wizards around them who were walking down the street freeze at hearing her laugh, but they quickly look away, as if the sight of her hugging a child is somehow unseemly.

Then Hadrian realizes they think she is taking a child onto Death which is why they are looking away. Maybe they think if she sees them looking, she will take them too.

Fools.

Hadrian will happily go with her any day!

“The Nornir I am referring to are from Jötunheim, as they are giantesses. Many have tried to ascertain what would please them, but so far, no one has much succeeded. The other Norns are easier, while they do not control the fates of man, they have other responsibilities and powers.”

“Oh! I hadn’t realized there were more than three ladies who were called Norns. Those were the only ones I found in the encyclopedia Dudley threw away…”

“There are. Some are Æsir, some elves and some dwarves. Though as far as I know, the dwarven descendants are only from Dvalin’s daughters.”

“That… can get a little confusing. Do the Norns who wrote my fate in your Book have names? Because how else can I say thanks, if I don’t even know their names? Maybe the other Norns will hear me and think I am thanking them –”

Hel laughs again, and squeezes his hand a little, saying, “Yes, everyone has names, even when they themselves do not know them. The three ladies you are referring to are called Urð, Verðandi and Skuld. Be very careful when you invoke their names, as these three Norns are known to have strange temperaments. Giving thanks should, however, be alright, especially if you make the right blót.”

“Blót… that’s blood sacrifice? I need to bleed to make the offering?” Hadrian asks her, because that is a bit… morbid maybe? But surely there is a reason for it, right?

“It can be a blood sacrifice, but it can also just be an offering, a worship with a sacrifice of some sort, these days the Gods aren’t that picky. If you wanted to say a big thank you, then offer them a big bowl of pure white salt, and then your own blood. It does not need to be a lot, since blood is life, and the blood of a Seiðr wielder such as yourself has real value to them. Normally I would caution you more when dealing with those Norns, but they made you someone Death decided to Choose, so I think it is safe enough.” Hel tells him a little pensively, even getting a far-away look in her eyes as she says this. Then almost as an afterthought, she adds, “And maybe some of that mead we had earlier today. All the Nine love mead, it is the one constant.”

“Um, do I need to make a shrine for them? Or … just a bowl full of salt, then I say their name and say my thanks and bleed on it?”

“I will show you when we go back. Knowing how to give thanks in a way which can be heard is important, especially since you aren’t exactly an ordinary mortal boy.”

“No, I am not. I am your brother.” Hadrian tells her, a little forcefully, gripping her hand as hard as he can.

She smiles down at him, and says “That you are.” Gripping his hand right back.

--

When they finally came back to Hadrian’s new place, they do so through shadows. Hadrian is starting to see how his life will be from now on. He doesn’t need to interact with the Dursley’s almost at all any more. Which is probably for the best, considering Hadrian isn’t even sure they have recovered from their last meeting with Hel.

Hel helps him unpack everything with a wave of her hand, and Hadrian watches in amazement as his clothes fly towards his new wardrobes.

She doesn’t stay long, but it is more than enough, especially since she reminds him again how he can come to her at any time with his cloak. Hadrian can’t help hugging her tightly one more time, something she seems to love as much as he does, and then she is gone.

Hadrian stands there for a bit, looking around his new apartment – his new reality really, and then he can’t help himself, he lets out a shout of pure joy.

Maybe he should give Vernon a thank-you gift also?

Shaking his head, he goes to look up how to make a proper shrine in thanks to the Norns.

--

It takes him until late evening to figure it out, and he asks his cloak to take him to a place where he can buy the relevant things mentioned in the books he looked through.

From the simple cloth bag he bought, he pulled out a cloth he had found – or rather, his cloak had found at a flea market. Hadrian had been very confused why his cloak had brought them there when he had requested for it to take him somewhere where he could buy the items for his shrine. At first, he wondered if maybe the cloak was simply too young? It was only created today after all, but… he shouldn’t have worried. Just a few stalls down, Hadrian finds a beautiful light-grey cloth with silver embroidery of the Yggdrasill, and right next to it, an-honest-to-Hel chalice.

The nice lady selling the things was a bit concerned why he wanted it, but he told her it was a present for his Sister who was really into Norse mythology, and she smiled at him kindly after that, suggesting he might wish to also pick up some silver bowls to go with it, for snacks and such. He did as she advised and was pretty happy with his purchases, considering he was a little kid, even with his added growth, and she was still willing to sell to him.

Hadrian decides he likes the way the cloth with the World Tree looks on his new corner table, next to the bookcase. There was a bit of an alcove, as if Hel knew he wanted a place for a shrine… well, she was a Goddess, maybe she did know.

Next, he pulls out the chalice and carefully poured some of the mead he had went back to Rosmerta to get. She didn’t look at him like a little kid at least. That might be because he drank an entire flagon of mead earlier in the day and looked like he was drinking water, so she probably thinks he is older than he looks. He makes a note to never dissuade her from this idea.

In the two bowls he bought, he places the salt in one, and in an impulse, he puts some of the Wizarding candy he bought today with Hel. Because he figures, everyone likely gave them meat and food and such, but likely no one remembered snack! Everyone likes candy, right?

Hadrian then carefully carves the Web of Wyrd, also known as Skuld’s Net, into a piece of wood which he then props up like a figurine. He does it carefully, since the knife he purchased is a little big in his hands, and he is not yet used to being considerably bigger than he was even 24 hours ago.

He doesn’t manage to find any figurines he could use to represent the Norns, but he figures, with the Web, they should know his thanks is for them.

Lastly, he pulls out the large beeswax candle he found at the stall next to the nice lady’s. The older man who sold it to him warned him that it burned really hot, and suggested he buy a candle extinguisher, which he did. He lit the candle with a lighter he found a few days ago between the coach cushions and put it to the side alter.

Then came the hardest part, and the part he is a bit unsure about, the bloodletting.

Hadrian found a knife in his new kitchen. It looks wicked sharp, which made him a bit nervous since he has to use it to cut himself. He figures better sharp then dull, right? Carrying it back to the alter, he paused for a moment, not really sure what he should actually say in his thanks.

From his reading, he understood that no one ever prayed to the Norns, which he honestly found odd. Wouldn’t you want to at least say thanks to the people who chose your fate? Or well, maybe not if it wasn’t a good one but… Hadrian shrugs, dismissing the thought.

Thinking for a bit more, he begins:

“Dear Norns, those three whose names are Urð, Verðandi and Skuld, I make this offering to you three. I know you are not normally worshipped, but I am not asking for anything! I just want to say thank you to you three. I know my life is not meant to be easy, and that’s okay, I guess, someone has to have the harder lives, right? But I want to say thank you, for giving me the chance to meet my Sister Hel today. I know now that I was always meant to meet her, but… but it’s not the same! You allowed it to happen sooner and I just really, really, REALLY want to thank you for doing that. You didn’t have to do that, but you did, and I just want to tell you how much that means to me, to have family finally. So, this is for you, for giving me light while everything was really kind of dark, you know? That was really kind of you guys. Please accept my blót in your name.”

Hadrian says this as sincerely as he could, while feeling for that part of himself where Hel showed him his Seiðr lives, he carefully slices his arm, not too deeply, but enough that blood flows immediately down it, and into the bowl with the salt in it. After a few minutes where all the blood was covered in red, he pinched the wound a bit, and as if it was a signal to his body, the wound starts to heal in front of his eyes. To his surprise, it leaves a shallow scar, but Hadrian figures that should be okay so long as it isn’t bleeding any more.

When he asked Hel why salt, she reminded him they were Jötuns and liked salt in everything, so their blood wouldn’t freeze in the harsh climate of Jötunheim, they even liked a little in their mead! So, Hadrian had added a small pinch of it to the mead he is offering, without blood, since he didn’t know if they liked that or not.

“Please accept my offering, if it pleases you. I am really sorry if I made any mistakes since I only learned about all this today, but I really wanted to say thank you, so yeah…” he trails off a little uncertainly, but then suddenly he feels a bit of a wind, and a sound of rustling from somewhere, and right in front of his eyes, the salt starts to sink into the bowl.

Hadrian glances around, then glances surreptitiously under the table. Nothing there, unsurprisingly, but then he glances at the chalice and realizes it is already empty. Should he have bought two more?

He quickly goes to refill the chalice, adding a clean pinch of salt from another container quickly, and holds his breath.

It empties again!

He fills it one more time, and adds the salt, and once again it empties.

He breathes a sign of relief, then remembers to glance down.

The salt and his blood are no more.

Surprisingly, the candy is gone too.

His blót has been accepted!

--

Hel cannot believe the surprising day she had!

She feels… happy, for the first time in a long, long time.

Hadrian has that effect on her. Already.

Hel always loved having brothers, but she never gets to see them much anymore. Hadrian promises to be with her for long and long, which is a gift she cannot underestimate.

It makes her almost wish to offer her own thanks to the Norns.

Almost.

They still stuck her in the Underworld after all.

Still, this was an unexpected generosity from them. She checks her Book again and again, to make sure there are no… hidden sufferings. She doesn’t find new ones, but she does find some which she wonders if she would be allowed to interfere with.

Dumbledore is old, as an example. Would they be offended if she reaped his soul earlier than she should?

She debates this for some time, but the decides to look through her Book about him, and oh the things she finds!

One Albus Percival Wulfric Brain Dumbledore has been a very naughty little mortal indeed!

His own Sister, Ariana, died from Dumbledore’s spell.

Reading through his section carefully, she considers everything she has learned.

Accidentally killing his Sister, estranged brother, failed ambition which later fulfilled themself by his own machinations… quite a bit of dilution of grandeur, as is to be expected from a profile like this, homosexual and in love with… oh dear, yes, the man he turned on in the end…

It still makes a part of Hel want to murder something when she reaches the part where baby Hadrian is alone, and Dumbledore takes him, but does not provide him the care he deserves. Instead, he places them with the likes of the Dursley’s. For that negligence alone, Dumbledore will get to experience the special treatment she has planned for Odin, if she is ever lucky enough for him soul to show up in her Realm. It is unlikely but a Goddess can hope.

Perhaps some cosmic entity will hear the multitudes that Odin has wronged, and decide to be merciful.

Stranger things have happened.

Dumbledore’s death is rather pointless, so maybe Hel will do something about it a bit sooner.

Ah, how lovely it is to have plans to make and family to involve oneself in again.

She wonders if she should get an avatar, so she doesn’t horrify every Seiðr wielder around her, but then decides against it. Hel hasn’t wanted to leave Niflheim in ages, and now that she does, she is going to enjoy it!

Even Death would approve of her caring for her little brother, so she plans to fully enjoy this experience!

-- 

The first morning he wakes up, he has to check that he hasn’t dreamed it all even though he isn’t in his cupboard, and is in fact, in the world’s most comfortable bed.

The furs on the bed had thrown him at first, but as soon as he touches them, he immediately knows why Hel gave them to him.

They are the softest, most amazing-feeling things he has ever touched.

It takes him ages to get up because he can’t stop rubbing himself all over those furs.

When he finally manages, he discovers that Hel also bought him house slippers, and a robe, because it suddenly comes flying towards him and lands gently into his arms.

Hadrian doesn’t know how Hel is doing it, but it’s almost as if the house is alive or… there is an invisible servant…

Wait.

He looks around, but he doesn’t see anything. He knows he doesn’t need glasses anymore because everything in the room is still crystal clear but… he doesn’t see anything.

Shrugging it off for now, he heads to his new bathroom to brush.

The choses the mint potion to try first, since he isn’t sure how it will feel, but it turns out to feel a lot like getting a mouthful of toothpaste, and it takes him a second to figure out how not to choke on the taste.

When he spits it out, his mouth does feel quite refreshed and his teeth don’t feel like there is any sleep left on them, so he figures it worked.

He decides to take a shower, and after a few false starts, he simply tells it when to stop getting hotter and it does.

So maybe the house is sentient. Would Hel have given him a sentient house without telling him? Is it maybe… normal from where she comes from?

Not having an immediate answer, he goes to put on some of his new clothes. Hel has taken a great deal of pleasure in snapping his old clothes out of existence and into a pile of ash which she then vanished, and he admits he rather enjoyed it too, but now, when he opens his closet, he has so many choices he doesn’t know where to start.

He grabs a blue shirt and a pair of black pants, and puts them on, feeling fancier than he ever felt, and a bit ridiculous, since he doesn’t plan to go out. But then he remembers that he is now Hel’s little brother and he can’t embarrass her by wearing rags, so he allows himself to enjoy the feel of clothes that actually fit him, then goes back to the bathroom to try and tame his hair some.

He has marginal success, much to his surprise, with a great deal of Silkfall and a lot of brushing, but his hair stays miraculously less bird-nest-like, and he feels a bit proud that he accomplished that.

The kitchen serves him a glass of not-milk-from-a-cow, and a kind of thick, sweet porridge which is full of weird but delicious fruit and he digs in without hesitation. The milk is stronger tasting than any milk he has ever had, but he finds he rather likes it.

After breakfast, he settles himself on the reading-sofa Hel has made for him, conveniently by the Bookcase, which is forevermore going to be in capitals in Hadrian’s head, because it’s that awesome, and starts to make his way through the stack of books they had acquired yesterday.

It is going to be an awesome day!

--

Having made it through the majority of the books they had acquired yesterday, with a little Seiðr, Hel immediately realizes a few things.

• She will need more books from this new Midgard Seiðr realm. The Seiðr was rudimentary, of course, but she needed to catch up on the things which might affect Hadrian.
• Hadrian needed quite serious supplemental materials to study if this was the level Midgard was still on. There are almost no mentions of the Nine, none of its Seiðrs’, peoples or cultures, which as a denizen of Niflheim, and Death’s Chosen, Hadrian will need to know.
• Hogwarts should no longer be called an Institution of Learning, at least not by her understanding, thanks to Dumbledore. Hel decides to add another fifty years to his sentences just for that alone.

One of the books has helpfully listed all the other Seiðrbeuf around Midgard, so Hel makes tentative plans to visit them all, in order to acquire more knowledge. Some are quite close by, like the one in the principality of ‘France’. She isn’t quite sure yet how the landmasses are divided but she figures she can always just do what she did last time and focus on the concentration of Seiðr.

Death has always been very understanding towards her need for books, and has never interfered with her need to acquire evermore. Even if that meant walking among the other Nine or beyond.

Besides that, she also spends some time in her own library, building a curriculum for her new little brother. That he was not well raised was evident by the neglect his former guardians inflicted on him. Somehow Hadrian has come out a kind, sweet boy who is perhaps a little soft but only inasmuch as he isn’t trained.

Hel, before she was forcibly made Queen, was an Æsir princess raised under the loving hands of her Father Loki, in the Palace of Odin, with all its resources and wise counselors.

She doesn’t have that now, but she has her lessons both in governance, Seiðr, and all other things pertaining to the Nine, and she will pass those down to Hadrian.

Norns willing, it will be enough.

…then again, the soul-shard which was formerly Tom is currently lost somewhere in the wilds of Midgard…

She grabs a stack of her Seiðr books on soul Seiðr to give to Hadrian. They are a bit advanced but she will guide him through it personally.

After all, it makes perfect sense for Hel, the Goddess of Death to give her little brother, the future Master of Death, lessons on soul Seiðr, right?

Norns will have to understand.

--

Interestingly, Hadrian doesn’t feel cold anymore. He doesn’t seem to feel temperature at all. He can tell when something is hot or cold enough to damage normal people but he himself doesn’t exactly feel any damage from it. He does notice that he can still be burned, but he heals so quickly, that he barely feels any pain at all. Maybe if he was covered in fire from head to toe, he might feel some discomfort, but he is pretty sure that he can heal quickly enough from that also to make it not matter.

He supposes having the iciest waters in existence living in your belly and cells makes a difference on how much fire can affect him.

It also makes cooking a lot easier.

Not that he has to do a great deal of that any more anyway. 

Hel made sure he could cook if he wanted to, but the meals that she provides him via her Seiðr – because Hadrian has no idea where else it could be coming from – is delicious but very weird. There are fruits and vegetables he has never seen before. And meat. Lots and… lots of meat.

Of all kinds!

Some animals which were roasted whole look like nothing he has ever seen.

He discovers he really likes the taste of a six-legged creature which is the size of a large rabbit or possibly a very fat cat. It has little antlers on its head, three eyes and very sharp teeth. At first, Hadrian has no idea what it is or where it comes from but he enjoys its gamy taste just the same. It is only later, at the end of the meal that he notices a small tag under the plate which says ‘Wa-Wa beast in honeyed wine and Aronia berries’, and realizes that all his dishes have some kind of description on them if he just took the time to look. The other meats he discovers he really enjoys is deer and boar, which show up a lot. What he rarely gets to eat, oddly enough, is chicken. Yet pheasant, quail and other wild birds show up with regularity.

The variety of vegetables is also strange, not as many as he would think. He hasn’t seen a melon or squash pretty much ever, but every single meal has some kind of berry with it. His favorite so far, is a berry called the moon berry that is the size of a large walnut but tasted like a peach, despite being blue.

Hadrian never knows what he will get, but he always enjoys it. What he does know, even after the weirdness that is the Wizarding World, is that his food definitely doesn’t come from Midgard.

A part of Hadrian wants to pinch himself, because he is growing up on alien food! In his Seiðr-expanded bedroom. While his Sister is Death’s Goddess.

Honestly, learning he has Seiðr after all that is almost a letdown.

Almost.

Because Seiðr is amazing, and the only reason he isn’t running in circles in his room and screaming in joy is because he has completely used up his shock-and-excitement quota for like, years.

It’s awesome and amazing and Hadrian can’t even convince himself by continuously pinching himself because every single bruise caused by the pinches heals immediately.

He is literally wow-ed out, and coming out the other end.

His Sister laughs at him all the time about it too, saying that if he becomes jaded now, what will he do when she shows him other planets?

Hadrian can’t even imagine that, and actually has to call a time out to just sit there and breath for a while because… other planets! Hel knows so many things!

He is starting to learn not to sweat the small things, mostly because the small things don’t even make a blip on his radar anymore.

He spends a great deal of time devouring every book on Norse history and mythology. Thankfully Hel’s own library allows him to know which story is pure fiction and which is based on facts, but he still reads everything he can get his hands on. He figures it will help him understand where other people’s misconceptions come from.

Hel is a diligent teacher, and often leaves books or notes or other such discoveries for him to find on his bed, which always makes Hadrian smile because she clearly cares about him!

She tells him about the alien races and of the Primordial Gods, and some few individuals who are Other. She also tells him about the various cosmic Powers out there, and Hadrian spends a great deal of time feeling very small, and very weak when he considers them in any depth.

Hel seems to not believe in hiding knowledge from him, and so he doesn’t hesitate to devour it all. She tells him that the education she is giving him is the same one her Father gave her when she was younger. It seems the Æsir do not believe in age-appropriate knowledge, and Hel privately admits to him that since he is mortal, she worries he will ‘die’ of old age before she can complete his education.

Hadrian wants to laugh except he also doesn’t because Hel is thousands of years old, and was already thousands of years old when she arrived on Niflheim, so maybe she does have a point. Hadrian however reminds her that even if his mortal life ended before she could complete her lessons, she would always continue them when he joined her permanently on Niflheim.

That does seem to calm Hel down some, and the frantic pace she is feeding him information slows down a bit. Hadrian is grateful because Hel was a princess of Asgard before she became Queen of Niflheim, and it seems the curriculum she is teaching him is that of an Asgardian prince. While that in itself is pretty awesome – him! Getting a princely education! Him who used to live under the stairs and was nobody. – it is still really intense.

Some of the lessons are frightening, at least they are until Hel reminds him that no matter how scary someone is now, sooner or later, they will be in Her kingdom and at Her mercy.

That knowledge does go a long way in calming Hadrian down. He still has a few nightmares about Celestials destroying an entire planet while they are born, or about Ragnarök since both the Völuspá and Gylfaginning mention Hel fighting during Ragnarök, but Hel assures him that was just Christian monks being poetic, and has nothing to do with the prophecy of Ragnarök at all.

She points out the many, many, many legions of discrepancies from the various Edda’s that survive to this day, and then shows him her Book.

It isn’t until he reads about her fate and assure himself that no, the Book is never wrong and yes Hel won’t die even during Ragnarök, that he can sleep peacefully at night.

Hel still stays with him for several months, petting his hair as he falls asleep, just to make him feel better.

Hadrian supposes that having one of Death’s hands tucking him to sleep and petting his hair might not be very restful for normal people, but Hadrian, after having read Hel’s Book about his own fate, has made peace that he was never even meant to be normal, so striving for that was a fool’s errand, as Hel said.

Hel assures him that her own Father has always taught her that ‘normal was a punishment from the Norns’, since normal was boring. Loki, Hel’s Father, apparently wouldn’t allow any of his kids to be normal.

It is a new way of seeing the world, and a part of Hadrian honestly… relaxes a little after realizing all of this. Hadrian is not normal, and he never will be. Wishing for things which the Norns have deemed Not For Him is stupid, so he makes an agreement with himself, that he will be Hadrian, youngest brother of Hel, Goddess of Death, and he will be himself.

Hel’s dad is right, normal is boring.

--

Hel concludes that Hadrian’s biggest challenge set by the Norns is annihilation of one Tom Marvolo Riddle self-styled Lord Voldemort – which still makes Hel laugh like a banshee because the gall of the mortal!

She does add another hundred years of suffering to Dumbledore’s sentences since he threw Tom under the bus simply because the boy belonged to a different house than himself.

Hel doesn’t quite understand this house thing this school all the human Seiðr wielders attend on Hadrian’s home island, but she plans to very soon, with the help of the books she has acquired this afternoon. She had not been paying much attention to Midgard in the past few thousand years, only sometimes glancing in its direction, but mostly focused on others, more long-lived races. Mortals meant they died too fast to create any trouble for the other Eight, and in such numbers that she has long since stopped paying them any mind.

More fool she, it seems.

Because if the mortals can create something as wonderful as Hadrian, and manage to get the attention of Death itself, then clearly, they have something worthy of notice.

She also notices that the Book gets considerably thicker when she asks it for Midgardian souls of note.

Well.

No one can say the Norns aren’t creative.

She makes a promise to herself to read through this new world she has discovered. Some of their notions are quite progressive, and others are completely baffling, but she is a Goddess, and her Father has always taught her that knowledge is power.

She with a snap of her fingers, a few hundred of the tomes fly towards her, opening their covers invitingly.

She has work to do.

--

Hadrian very nearly forgets all about the Dursley’s, since he hasn’t seen them for a few months, until he hears a knock one afternoon, and it takes him two full minutes to figure out where it is coming from.

When he does open his bedroom door, something he hasn’t bothered to do since he mastered Shadow walking with his Skugga Vǫrðr, he is surprised to find his aun – Petunia on the other side of the door.

She looks decided uncomfortable standing there, as Hadrian blinks at her, but squares her shoulders and asks, in a much nicer voice than Hadrian is used to hearing from her, if they could maybe talk.

Hadrian is completely mystified, but agrees since he isn’t in the middle of anything important.

They go down to the kitchen, and Hadrian notices no one else is in the house. She offers him a seat at the dining table, and sits down opposite of him. She is quiet however, and Hadrian is starting to wonder if she didn’t just want to sit there, staring at her hands, so he says, “What is this about?”

Petunia glances up at him, and then back down to her hands, and finally deigns to tell him what she wants.

Dudley apparently collapsed at school, when his PE teacher had forced him to run a few extra laps because he had slacked off, and had to be rushed to the hospital. There, Petunia and Vernon were told that Dudley is severely obese and must lose weight because his heart cannot handle the strain any more.

A part of Hadrian wants to remind her that Hel did tell them that, but they clearly haven’t listened, but he refrains.

Just.

It is clear that having this conversation is killing Petunia a little. Hadrian wouldn’t care much, but Dudley is his cousin, even if he is a bully and a terror to most, so he decides to hear her out.

After some stammering, Petunia finally asks if there is anything he can do to ‘save her baby’.

Hadrian sits back in the chair, and considers her for a bit.

He knows he doesn’t have the ability to make Dudley lose weight instantly, nor can he repair the damage his heart has likely already sustained from years of obesity, but maybe…

“Dudley is not of Seiðr. You probably already know from growing up with mom that non-Seiðr people cannot be helped with Seiðr potions as those potions require a Seiðr core to connect to in order to work. However, there is a chance Dudley is a Squib, like you. If he is, then a healing potion should be able to help him. It won’t be a complete cure, as Dudley still has to lose the excess weight which is causing the damage in the first place, but you are his mother, so you can help him with that. Change his diet and make him work out some, that kind of thing. Vernon can probably benefit from that too, considering. I will get a healing potion for you, and you can give it to Dudley. It should help at least some. Was that all?” Hadrian asks her, thinking he could probably pick up a strong healing potion from Knockturn even if the apothecary at Diagon won’t sell it to him directly, since he isn’t a licensed healer.

Petunia blinks at him, and her face goes through a few emotions which Hadrian doesn’t bother paying attention to. What she does say is, “You have changed. You speak differently now… more like Her.”

Then it is Hadrian’s turn to blink at her, because while he knows that, it is still good to know it is obvious to someone who has known him since he was a baby.

Hel has that influence on people.

So instead, he just nods, and gets up to go back to his room, debating if he should go to Niflheim now to tell Hel about this so they could go together or if he shouldn’t bother since Hel is a Queen and quite busy. He decides he can tell her later tonight when she visits and goes to pick up the potion now.

Decision made, he releases his Skugga Vǫrðr to its full length, which never leaves him, but can shrink to hide when he is in muggle clothes, and considering it was Petunia who asked for this, he doesn’t bother hiding that one minute he is in her kitchen, and the next he hears a small shriek and knows the shadows have swallowed him.

He comes out next to Knockturn, but decides to try the apothecary instead first anyway.

Considering quite a few people in Diagon have seen him with Hel, and felt her aura, the apothecary manager – a Mr. Mulpeppers - doesn’t so much as blink at his age before he is offering him 6 different types of healing potions.

He does blink a little when Hadrian asks which one of those would work best on a Squib, but Mr. Mulpeppers is a professional and immediately removes 5 of the vials, while offering him a 50% discount if he wanted to purchase a set of 3.

Hadrian does take him up on it, since Dudley isn’t likely to lose weight very quickly, and on a whim, asks if there is any potion that can help a Squib lose weight.

Mr. Mulpepper breaks out into a bit of a sweat, but has to admit that no, no such potion is available for Squibs. Wizards and Witches with strong cores certainly but Squibs had minimal results with weight loss potions. He does caution Hadrian that such potions should never be given to children in any case as that can seriously harm the child in question who is still developing.

Thinking back, Hadrian does remember seeing quite a few chubbier kids at Diagon but not that many chubby adults, and realizes this must be why.

He thanks the manager much to the man’s relief and pays for his purchase.

He stops by to pick up a few of the fresh bezoars while he is there, but then heads home since he still has the book on Dwarven rituals to finish before Hel checks his work tonight.

Hadrian materializes in Petunia’s kitchen and she shrieks again, but thankfully stops when she sees its him and then her eyes immediately zero in on the vials he is holding.

He passes them to her, but also asks her to touch an opaque glass ball which he unwraps from a cloth, being careful not to touch it himself. It is a Remembrall, and according to Mr. Mulpepper is one of the lowest Seiðr-needing items in the Wizarding world. He asks his aunt to touch it with her fingertips and thankfully it does produce a small faint glow, red mist starting to move inside indicating Petunia forgot something.

Petunia looks like she dearly wants to wipe her hands on something, but Hadrian tells her that this proves she does have Seiðr, just not enough of it to use a wand. While Petunia does make a rather horrified face, Hadrian reminds her that this also likely means Dudley is a Squib as well and the potion should work for him which makes Petunia get a very complicated look instead.

The safety of her child ends up being more important, so she does finally look relieved and asks Hadrian about the doses of the potions.

He warns her to save the rest for the next time Dudley has a life-threatening injury, and to feed him one full vial no matter how much he protests that it tastes nasty.

Petunia goes silent for a bit, and Hadrian is just considering going back to his apartments, when she says quietly, “Thank you Harry. Hadrian, I mean.”

Hadrian looks at her then, but she still looks the same to him, so he just nods, and goes back to his rooms.

Hel willing, he won’t see Dudley in Niflheim too soon.

--

Hel knows Niflheim’s time moves differently, but Hadrian loves spending time here, which makes Hel both pleased and worried.

He should be spending time with mortals while he still can. He will have eternity to spend with her after all.

Hadrian however doesn’t seem to see it that way, and explains to her quite calmly that while he appreciates having options, he doesn’t actually have mortal people who care about him. Hel is his only family, which never fails to make Hel both happy and sad all at once.

Hadrian is only six. He should have more people who care for him than just her!

However, it is also painfully evident that he does not, in fact, have anyone, so Hel makes a promise to herself to fill Hadrian’s life with wonder, so he can grow up healthy and hale.

Since Niflheim doesn’t have any concept of time per se, she makes a note to teach Hadrian as much as she can when he is with her. She takes him to the Nine realms, even though she keeps them both invisible to not panic the populace.

First, they explore Midgard since Hel herself no longer knows much about it. They visit the various principalities which Hadrian tells her are actually countries in their own right, despite being very tiny indeed.

Hel feels more comfortable taking him to all the Seiðr places first and Hadrian loses his mind over some of the places they visit.

A country called ‘Egypt’ is a great hit. The local people called Bedouins still worship Death and strangely enough, the Sun God as well. Considering they live in a desert, Hel supposes Death and the Sun are two frequent icons to them, so it makes sense. They discover the ‘lost’ Library of Alexandria is actually in a temple deep within the sand-sea, and not lost even a little. At least not to the Bedouin in any case. The Bedouin, ecstatic that a True Goddess is walking among them again, even if she is the Goddess of Death, show them without hesitation.

Hel is well pleased by the large selections of tomes they have carefully preserved, and promises them that she will keep Death out of the Great Library as much as she can, since Time will take all one day anyway, but the Bedouin are so pleased at her proclamation and favor they throw a seven-day-and-seven-night feast in her and her brother’s honor.

Hadrian is both happy and confused why he is being included, but the oldest of the Bedouin, a man of only 80 Midgardian years, tells her brother that the ones who are Chosen by the Gods are meant for Great Things, and that he has come to them for learning is the highest and greatest honor of all. That Death herself has brought him to them to learn… well.

Hel is certain the Bedouin will not stop worshipping Death any time soon.

On the 5^th day of Feasting, something Hel has rather missed since leaving Asgard, the old man whose name turns out to be Marwan, leads them deeper into the Great Library. There, on a back wall, Hel is startled to see and image of herself, and by her side, an image of Hadrian carved into the thick walls of the library.

Hadrian is equally shocked and looks to her for guidance. She in turn looks at Marwan, who bows low to her, and says, “A First Goddess has graced us with her favor, bringing one she cherishes and trusted us to share our wisdom and knowledge, and promises us that the Library which we have dedicated our lives to will live on until the end of all things… we cannot overlook such a blessing.”

Hadrian grips her hand instinctively, but she squeezes it back, and tells them, “You have honored not just me but my still-mortal brother too. I will not forget this. Thus, I grant another blessing: That all those who dedicate themselves to the Library will have peace and happiness in their end-days. They will die honorably, with no suffering, and will see their loved ones on the other side, so long as they too have been honorable. This I vow.” Her silver Seiðr immediately swirling around her, making her hair lift off a little, before it settles, making the library flash silver for a moment.

Marwan lets out a cry of joy, and drops to his old knees, bowing his head low to her, and uttering thanks in the old tongue most of the people of his lands no longer spoke.

Hel knows Osiris hasn’t paid much attention to this land for some time, so she doesn’t think he will mind overmuch. She is expanding her Seiðr after all to bless his people, so he shouldn’t complain.

Hadrian looks uncomfortable to have the man kneeling to him, and Hel realizes with a jolt, the child was not raised a prince, so he wouldn’t be accustomed to the gratitude Hel and her extended family is generally used to and consider their due.

Thus, she touches the soul that is Marwan’s, and places a small marker of Scholar on it. It will ensure that Marwan soul, upon his death, can come serve at her library when he finally passes into her lands. While Sekhet-Aaru – the Field of Reeds – is fitting for a soul like Marwan’s, who has dedicated his entire life to the pursuit of Knowledge and the protection of it, Hel figures she can give the mortal soul a choice, to spend some time in her Library studying before he entered rebirth’s cycle. She figures that too would be a blessing to one such as him.

She then tells him what she has done.

The old man is beyond grateful, happy tears streaking down his brown wrinkled face, and small wonder. Hel has insured he will not suffer for his death, and that death itself will hold no fear for him.

Hadrian can’t help be curious of course, so she tells him what she did.

He is quite for a bit, and then says, “That was really nice of you.”

Hel knows there is a lesson here so she tells him, “It isn’t about being nice, not truly. I am known in your Midgardian mythology books as a cruel and heartless ruler, but as you can see, that is not exactly true, at least I do not think so anyway. Every soul is sent at a specific time, and a specific place, in order to add to the Tapestry of Fate which the Norns weave.” She tells him as they stand there admiring the carving of herself and her brother, carved into the walls. Marwan has left them, still bowing and expressing his gratitude.

“If a soul has been productive in the life it was sent to experience, following all the teachings it should, and learning the wisdoms it was sent to learn in order to enhance the Tapestry? Then they deserve the Gods indulgence. Similarly, if they have been cruel, selfish and other such behaviors which does not bring anything to the Tapestry but only dulls and diminishes it, then those souls must be taught the error of their ways. Unless of course they were born to such a Fate, and their cruelty serves a purpose that also enhances the Tapestry. It is not a mercy or a decision done via sheer whim, but our duty to uphold these principles.” She pauses then, touching the image of her own face with her fingertips, marveling at the lovely craftsmanship.

“The Book guides us, but the final judgement is ours. This is why we are the Chosen. It is not because we are somehow better, but because our souls have accumulated wisdom which was learned so well, that it carried forth into this existence. The cosmos needs people like us as much as it needs people like Marwan. Each soul has a purpose, each soul something to contribute, even if its entire purpose for living, was to die. You might dislike the deference mortals and other races will show us, but it is nothing but what is ours by right. Not because we especially deserve it, but because the soul showing us this deference are learning by doing so. Every action has a purpose. Some are wasteful, some are not, but they are all part of the Tapestry. Existence has its own plans, at least until Ragnarök, where the cycle starts over again.” She starts to lead him slowly away from the lovely carvings, a little regretful it will vanish so soon, as all things on Midgard do.

“Energy is never destroyed, only changed, remember this Hadrian. We have been Chosen to be the checks for the Tapestry, and to keep the Great Balance of Existence, and thus have been removed from the normal Weaves, but we are still an integral part of the Tapestry. When you grant favors, or allow worship, these things are done to enrich and reward the soul which is learning on its journey. It is done more for the soul committing the act, then for your own ego or pleasure.”

Hadrian listens attentively, and she can only hope he will understand her meaning.

“So, you are saying, we are basically servants. Very important servants, but our job is to… serve Existence?” Hadrian asks her after a short while of thinking.

She thinks about it for a bit. It isn’t a nice way to look at their life’s purpose, but it is also not inaccurate. They are servants, in as much as all souls are servants. Gods, Primordials, even the Others are servants to the Tapestry.

“You can understand it that way if you wish. However, if you understand it that way, then understand that all souls – no matter how powerful – are servants. Some are set in their Nature, which has been written by the Norns for them, others have other purposes, but all of them – us – serve a greater purpose, it is only that some know it and others do not.”

Hadrian is quite for a while again, then says, “I like that. The idea that everyone is working on making something better somehow.”

Hel smiles down at him. He is only six. Practically still in swaddling. If he has been an Æsir child, he would still be nursing on his mother’s tit, but he is a mortal child and Hel knows from her studies and her own experiences from thousands of years ago, that Midgardian children have to grow up very fast indeed. She makes a note to get Hadrian to play as much as is possible while he grows up. She knows that children who don’t have time for this grow up with their souls a little twisted, and she hopes she can prevent Hadrian from experiencing that.

--

Hadrian still feels like he is living in a dream.

Hel takes him absolutely everywhere.

It doesn’t matter how far it is, or how fantastical, she is able to take them there with only a thought, and Hadrian has a moment to think that if the first six years of life had to be sacrificed to be able to have this, then he thinks he is okay with it, and he would definitely do it again if given the choice.

Hel takes him to the Seiðr section of China, where foreigners like himself are usually not welcome. She changes their appearance to better blend in, and Hadrian gets to experience having long hair for 12 whole hours. He likes it so much, he asks Hel to let him keep it even though he knows the Dursley’s would not like it, but since he no longer has to care what they think, he doesn’t.

The Chinese also show him how to keep long hair elegant-looking at all time, and Hel buys him a virtual store of hair ornaments and potions to keep it nice and glossy.

When they hit the Amazon regions however, Hadrian has to acknowledge that not all mortals have forgotten the worship of Death. The Aztecs who apparently are very much alive and still a culture, same as the Mayans, Incans and other such peoples whom everyone else thought have died out have only been hiding their lands from the mortals since before Columbus’s times.

Hadrian has to revise all the history he knows – which admittedly isn’t all that much, everything he learned, he learned from reading the encyclopedia since he hasn’t started school yet –

But… he also feels like he may as well be living in a whole new world.

Surprisingly, he is okay with that.

--

Hel is a little concerned.

Her little brother is thriving, which gladdens her heart, but he is also spending more and more time on Niflheim, allegedly studying, but she knows it is because he wishes to spend time with her.

That in itself isn’t the issue.

The issue is Niflheim’s time moves differently from all the Nine, and Hadrian is mentally aging a lot faster than he should, even though his physical body isn’t.

He still looks 6 years old, but by Hel’s estimations, he should be closer to 8 or 9 now mentally. The First Waters have boosted every aspect of Hadrian’s body, Seiðr and mind, but he would still have been 6 mentally if he hasn’t been spending so much time here.

He is also picking up the Death Aura faster than he should. Hel worries briefly what that will do to his mortal body, and makes him drink a little more of the First Waters, just to be certain but nothing else seems to change for him. Still, better safe than sorry. It would not be good if his body started rotting.

The mortals he walks amongst, haven’t yet noticed the aura. Partially because if Hel is with him, they notice her before him, but also because he hasn’t been on Niflheim long enough. In a few years however, that aura will be noticeable to most but especially to those sensitive in Seiðr, which might make it harder for Hadrian to make mortal friends, let alone find himself a mate.

She frets for a while, and checks her Book often, but whatever side effect this is having on him, doesn’t seem to be affecting his Fate, so Hel allows herself to not worry about it overmuch, yet. Instead, she simply takes them traveling more often around the Nine as well as outside the Nine.

That will hopefully counteract some of the discrepancies.

She hopes.

--

The first time his Sister takes him to meet her brother, Hadrian is rather nervous.

Jörmungandr is a bit… big. So that might be part of it. But mostly it’s the idea of meeting someone who was Hel’s real family – and she gives him a disapproving look for that thought but Hadrian can’t really help it – and he worries what would happen if the great serpent doesn’t approve of him.

Considering one of Jörmungandr’s eyes is the side of 8 of Hadrian’s body, and when he stares at Hadrian, he admits to feeling completely naked. But, he has also been raised by Hel, so he squares his shoulders, looks Jörmungandr in one of his eyes, and says, :: Hello Mr. Jörmungandr, I am Hadrian Helbróðir, Hel’s little brother from… er, Death’s side. it is a pleasure to meet you. :: Except he must have said something wrong, because Hel glances at him, a bit surprised and he glances back at her with a ‘what did I say?’ look, because he doesn’t know what he did wrong.

Jörmungandr blinks once at him, and opens his great mouth to speak, and wow okay those are some seriously sharp fangs which are the size of a four-story house.

:: Well met, little Hadrian. It gladdens my heart that Hel has another brother to keep her company in her realm. She has been alone even longer than the rest of us. And I see she has retained her good taste by picking a parselspeaker too! I would say how fortuitous but nothing really is when the Norns are concerned, so instead I will simply say, welcome to the family, Hadrian Helbróðir. ::

Hadrian smiles at Jörmungandr with more than a bit of relief, then realizes what the great snake said.

“Wait, I spoke in Parseltongue? I didn’t notice at all!” 

Hel gives him a look for that, but then both Jörmungandr and Hel look pensive.

:: It could be the All-Speak’s interference? He did ingest the First Waters as a mortal… ::

“I have never heard of such a side effect…” Hel says worriedly.

“Or maybe I never could tell? When I was little, I found a garden snake which spoke to me, and Dudley made fun of me for hissing at it, but I thought I was speaking English then.” Hadrian tells them both, in case Hel decides she is to blame for something like this for giving him the First Waters too soon.

:: I know it is not a common gift among Midgardians. The land of India has the biggest concentration of those who can speak with me, even if they constantly ask me if I am the representation of Shiva or a Manasa. I do not get offended as they do not know any better, and it frightens them more if I tell them who I truly am, but aside from that, they are quite pleasant company most of the time. :: Jörmungandr tells them thoughtfully.

“No, that is not it. It is not the First Waters. Nor was Hadrian born with the gift. The Book did state this. His mother demanded it as wergild from the man who murdered her and her mate. She took her vengeance on him by taking all his power from him before causing his own actions to be his death.” Hel tells Jörmungandr gleefully, and Hadrian discovers that serpents that big are absolutely terrifying when they smile that bloodthirstily.

::A worthy death, one of a warrior. They are no doubt in Valhalla now, enjoying the Feasting Halls.:: Jörmungandr tells Hadrian.

It has taken Hadrian a few years to understand the Æsir value system, but once he did, he gladly threw out his own for theirs. Humans seemed to value very little, or very frivolous things, in Hadrian’s opinion. He’d much rather think about gallant warriors fighting the injustice of the world.

Of course, Hel had also told Hadrian all the various ways those same Æsir warriors weren’t so gallant, or noble, or even good sometimes. Otherwise, she reasoned, she would not have ended up being the Queen of Niflheim forcibly. Hadrian however figures that just because they failed to do what’s right, did not make a Warrior’s Path wrong. He could always try to do it better.

Hel has started his sword training a few months after they met, after being shocked to learn that Midgardians no longer taught Warrior Arts to their children.

Hadrian was then subject to an hour of muttering and cursing in various languages, all which were translated to him thanks to his All-Speak.

Hel’s older brother speaking brought him back to himself.

:: Since as Hel’s little brother, you are also my little brother – and I am sure Fenrir will say the same – what kind of big brother would I be, if I didn’t even give you a Greeting Gift, mm? Here, come closer to me. :: saying this, the gargantuan serpent leans forward.

Hadrian can feel himself blushing, but obligingly walks up to Jörmungandr great head.

Jörmungandr flicks out his tongue, and the very tip touches Hadrian’s forehead. There is a strange sensation where his tongue touches Hadrian’s forehead, but when Hadrian reaches up to touch the spot, there is nothing there.

:: As my family, I grant you the gift of serpents. No serpent from any of the Nine will ever attack you now, and they will wish to aid you if you ever ask it of them. This is my Greeting Gift to you, little Hadrian, brother of my Sister. :: says Jörmungandr smugly, clearly well pleased with this gift.

Hadrian gapes at him for a beat, then beams, :: Thank you so much! That is an awesome Greeting Gift. ::

:: I am glad you like it. :: Jörmungandr tells him, clearly pleased that he is pleased.

“But, I don’t have anything to give you.” Hadrian says, crestfallen.

“That is not how it works. The older siblings gift the younger ones Gifts. That is the tradition.” Hel tells him, laughing.

“Oh but that doesn’t seem fair!” then he gets an idea. He isn’t sure it would work, but he wants to try… :: There is a bit of Seiðr I want to try, though I am not sure it will work since I might still be too young to do it. You won’t… be mad if it doesn’t work, right? ::

Jörmungandr looks intrigued, and promises he won’t laugh or be mad.

Hel warns him that Jörmungandr is a lot bigger than he looks, but Hadrian, a bit cheekily, admits to her that it’s okay, at worst he will pass out and then she will have to spend some more time catching up with her big brother till Hadrian wakes up.

She gives him a Look, but Hadrian doesn’t let that stop him. He puts both of his hands on Jörmungandr lower jaw, the only place he can reach really, closes his eyes and wishes with all his might.

He notices that everything under his closed eyelids is suddenly a bit bright, so he assumes he is glowing, but then he feels a … huge whooshing feeling come out of his body and into Jörmungandr, and he thinks he might have managed it.

He slowly opens his eyes, and the look of pure surprise on Jörmungandr face – even on a snake it is obvious – tells him it worked.

He smiles and steps back, only to immediately have to sit back down, because the world is spinning. Jörmungandr really is huge!

“What did you do, Hadrian?” Hel asks, intrigued expression waring with her worried one.

:: I know humans have been polluting a lot, so I figured Jörmungandr’s scales must feel really grimy all the time with all that stuff in the water, what with the oil spills and waste dumping. If that was me, I know I would feel itchy all the time, so I asked my Seiðr to make Jörmungandr’s scales impervious to getting dirty! Now he won’t ever feel uncomfortable no matter what he has to swim through. ::

Both Hel and Jörmungandr look stunned for a minute, and then Hel throws her head back and laughs while Jörmungandr just studies him closely and says, :: Sister, we are keeping him. Forever. ::

Hadrian smiles at them and then lies back down on the sandy shore. He’s just gonna close his eyes for a bit.

Only for a –

--

Fenrir, having long since gotten out of his prison with Hel and Jörmungandr’s help, is living in the wilds of the Scandinavian forests. It’s a bit marshy in Hadrian’s opinion, but he supposes if he was a wolf, especially a super large one, this is not a bad place to live. Lots of places to run around and a lot of fog to hide a large wolf.

Hel gets pounced on as soon as they arrive, and Hadrian actually had to stop himself from crying out in fear that the giant wolf has hurt Hel. But of course, that’s silly. Hel is a Goddess and her own brother would not hurt her.

After about ten dozen happy greeting licks from Fenrir all over Hel’s face – who is just as giant as giant can be, the stories didn’t exaggerate with him either – Hadrian gets to experience the feeling of being sniffed by a beast the size of a redwood tree and burning amber eyes.

Hel thankfully speaks up before Fenrir can decide he doesn’t smell nice or something, and decides to eat him, “Fenrir, brother, this is my new little brother Hadrian. He is a Midgardian Seiðr wielder, and a Chosen of Death. I wanted to bring him so you could meet. I am rather fond of him.” That last bit is said almost as a warning, and Hadrian shoots her a quick look, before turning back to Fenrir.

“Hello Mr. Fenrir, it’s really nice to meet you.” Hadrian tells the giant wolf sincerely, because as scary-looking as he is, he is still Hel’s big brother!

“A mortal boy?” Fenrir says, as if he has human mouth to speak. Then he snorts air out of his nose, and says, “He smells like Niflheim and the First Waters.”

Hadrian blinks, and remember the books all saying Fenrir can both speak as a wolf and as a man.

“That is because Norns have allowed us to meet early.”

Fenrir turns to look at Hel, and says, “Unusual for them.” It almost isn’t a question.

“I thought so too, but it does seem to be a blessing, however unexpected.” Hel says, shrugging one shoulder elegantly.

Fenrir turns back to him, and takes another deep sniff of him, “You went to see Jörmungandr?”

Hadrian can’t help it, he beams just thinking about it, “We did! He is awesome! He called me little brother and let me clean his scales!”

Fenrir laughs a little, clearly amused, “Yes, I can see this. But why did he need his scales cleaned?”

“Because humans pollute the waters he swims in. So, I thought maybe he’s like it if his scales didn’t get dirty again.”  

Fenrir blinks, as if this human logic is somehow surprising, and like his Sister, he throws his head back and laughs.

“I bet he liked that.”

“Well, I think so? He said he was keeping me anyway.” Hadrian tells him, only a little jokingly.

“Is that so?” Fenrir says, and takes another sniff, “Well, let us have another look at you then.”

Hadrian stands a little straighter because Fenrir is the oldest, and his approval is important.

“What did Jor give you then? He is a rather odd one when it comes to gifts.”

At that Hadrian perks up and tells Mr. Fenrir excitedly, “Big Brother Jor was amazing! He found out I can speak to snakes, so he gave me the gift of serpents, so that they will all be my friends now! Isn’t that great, Mr. Fenrir?”

Mr. Fenrir blinked at him in surprise, and glances at Hel who only smiles a little and offers a small nod. “His mother was a great warrior, and demanded a high wergild in exchange for her life.”

“Well then. That is a mighty fine gift indeed and one Jor has never given to another, that I know of. You must be very special little Hadrian, to have won the allegiance of both my kin.” Fenrir says, sitting down on his hunches. He takes another sniff of the air, but it’s almost as its thoughtful this time. “However, as the oldest of Loki’s blood, I will not be outdone. Very well, Hadrian, brother of my Sister and littlest brother of mine, this is my Greeting Gift to you then.”

Fenrir saying this, pierces his tongue with his sharp tooth. Keeping the tooth in the blood, he leans over Hadrian, and says, “Stay very still, new brother mine.”

Hadrian swallows quickly, and nods, holding as still as he knows how.

Fenrir allows one very large drop of his blood to drip onto Hadrian’s head, just then.

The old Harry would have been completely grossed out by having the equivalent of a bucket of blood dumped on him, but Hadrian-who-is-Hel’s-and-Jor’s little brother knows what blood is, and knows the power of a God’s blood even more. He nearly cries a little because his emotions get the better of him, because he knows –

— Just as he expects, as soon as the blood from Fenrir’s tooth drops down on his head and slides down his body, it is immediately absorbed into his skin.

Fenrir doesn’t stop till Hadrian is covered in his blood completely, even asks him to lift his feet, so the soles of his feet would be covered too. Hadrian’s body in turn is drinking Fenrir’s blood as if it is the First Waters all over again. His Seiðr pulses and Hadrian can feel his body – his lifeforce, in truth – get stronger.

More permanent.

His Seiðr core is expanding with every breath he takes, and he can feel his skin sort of… ripple.

He thinks about being alarmed, but… this is Hel’s older brother. Hadrian can trust him. So instead, he looks down at his hands in fascination, wondering what such a huge boon as the Gift of a Gods Blood, willingly given, would grant him.

He already knows it will be spectacular.

He looks up at Fenrir, his older brother now, and can’t help noticing Fenrir’s smug look.

Something really good then. One things Hadrian knows…

Æsir loved outdoing each other.

“Now, you are blood kin to all wolves. As I am their God, so you are my kin too. They will obey you always first, as you are of my blood now, and only I can countermand it.”

Hadrian can feel his jaw drop for a moment and then he can’t help beam at Fenrir because that’s just – So. AWESOME!

“Fenrisúlfr, big brother. That’s a… very generous Greeting Gift. I am in your debt, as is Hadrian.” Hel says, sounding a little shocked.

Fenrir snorts air at her, as if to say ‘Tsk!’ “You are family. What is your family is mine. That is as it should be. Were Father not imprisoned by Odin, he would be here also to do the same.” Fenrir tells her, while looking down at Hadrian.

“Come little brother, try out your shapeshifting. You are a wolf-kin now, after all.”

Hadrian can feel his eyes boggle because… does that mean – could he turn into a wolf now?

Immediately he closed his eyes, and tried to focus on his Seiðr.

Which… is a whole lot easier to do now all of a sudden.

Before, when he thought about accessing large amounts of Seiðr, he always felt an instinctive twinge which made him know his body wasn’t strong enough – or old enough maybe – for that. Developed enough? Something anyway. It felt… dangerous. Truly unwise to attempt. 

But this… now..

That sensation is mostly gone.

Feeling for his Seiðr, he focuses on thinking himself into a wolf, his Seiðr leaps to him immediately and he –

Hot.

He feels really hot all of a sudden, but not too hot? Like his muscles feel when he has been sprinting at full tilt for a while and –

Suddenly the ground is a lot closer, and he is crouched somehow –

He has fur. His hands do. Except those aren’t hand! He has paws!

He looks up and feels the oddest sensation of his suddenly too-long ears flopping and then he opens his mouth to say something but –

He is suddenly completely overwhelmed by all the thousands of smells which, oh Hel, are everywhere --!!!

“Breath little brother. You will adjust in a few minutes. Let the smells penetrate your senses. They carry information within them, and you will understand them soon.”

Hadrian hears him. He hears Fenrir, but he can’t yet focus on him completely because he is still drowning in all the smells!

He cannot comprehend how he is supposed to let more in, and still stay conscious, but just as he thinks this, the smells start to settle, start to make sense –

The interesting thing is they all had taste as well, these smells, and meanings. Fenrir is right, he is starting to understand –

Fenrir’s smell is the strongest. He smells like Leader, and like Big Brother, and like Wolf. Hel smells like Death and Home and Family. The forest they are in smells like… life and hunt and food.

Hadrian both wants to stay with Fenrir and Hel, and wants to run off into those woods.

He shakes his head to try and clear it some, and finally feels a little more like himself.

Wolf… is intense.

“There you are. You found your footing quite quickly for one who is still a pup.”

Hadrian opens his mouth, and starts to say, but has to stop because his voice is weird in this mouth!

“Thank you, Big brother! I …am most honored. Hel is right, I am in your debt.”

“Do you accept me as your big brother then?”

“Of course!” Hadrian all but shouts, because how could he think --?!

“Then you are not in my debt.”

Hadrian snaps his mouth shut and swallows. And then very quietly says, “Yes, Big brother.”

“Good. Then it is settled.” Fenrir says, and wags his tail twice. “Besides, what kind of Death’s Chosen doesn’t have a proper Grim?”

Hel laughs in delight. “It’s true. I have Garmr after all.”

Then, still smiling, she bends down, and waves a mirror into existence, and Hadrian is so surprised he feels his butt sit suddenly on the grassy floor.

In front of him is a green-eyed black wolf-pup. He is a bit embarrassed how tiny he is, and how clumsy-looking, but he is most definitely also a wolf-pup.

“I am so small.” Hadrian tells them both mournfully, and they both laugh at him.

“Of course, you are! You are still a pup after all. But when you grow up, you will be mighty, fear not!”

“You really think so?” Hadrian asks hopefully, looking up at Fenrir, who is so much bigger, a bit shyly.

“I know so! You are our little brother after all.” Fenrir tells him confidently, and Hadrian thinks it must be so if Fenrir believes it.

Never mind that he can’t see it yet.

After trying to figure out his legs for a bit, and giving himself a very satisfying full-body shake, he turns back to his human form with only a little bit of effort.

His clothes are still perfectly on him. Neat!

“Big brother, let me give you a gift back?”

Fenrir looks down at him quietly, and then says, “That is not how this works, little brother.”

“I know, but it seems unfair. My Seiðr is still weak, till I grow up, but I can do a bit. Please?”

Fenrir stares at him for a moment more, and lowers his head down where Hadrian can touch his snout.

Hadrian beams at him, and quickly places his hands on Fenrir’s black nose. Before he releases his Seiðr, he remembers to say to Hel, “This time you will definitely get to catch up.” And before Hel can stop him, he reaches deep into his Seiðr, all the way down where he starts to feel the strain, and wills his Seiðr at Fenrir.

He can feel his Seiðr swell, trying to do his bidding. It is a large thing he has asked it to do, and he isn’t sure he can manage it, but just when he feels his core start to strain dangerous, the spell forms and releases into Fenrir.

Nothing will ever be able to keep Fenrir bound and restrained again.

He has no idea what spell it is he used. He simply willed it as hard as he knew how, imprinting in it the ability to wiggle out of anything. Maybe using a touch of Jor’s gift, he isn’t sure but he knows Jor gave him the knowledge of how that feels so his Seiðr obeys.

He feels it lock into Fenrir just as he blacks out, smiling.

--

Hel is not best pleased with him when he wakes up, but hugs him hard enough that his newly enhanced ribs creek.

Fenrir looks like he wants to lick Hadrian.

A lot.

Literally.

That is when Hadrian realizes he can turn into his wolf-pup even when his Seiðr is very depleted as it seems to be a natural form and instinctual now.

Probably for the best since Fenrir spends a long time grooming him with his tongue afterwards.

Scent marking, a part of his wolf-brain says.

Hadrian ignores that part and tries not to purr out loud in contentment.

It wouldn’t be wolf-like. 

--

While living on Midgard is… okay now. It still isn’t as fun as visiting Hel.

He knows she wants him to spend more time on Midgard, but he prefers hanging out with her. Sometimes Ganglati and Ganglöt join them, but mostly it’s the two of them.

They spend a lot of time reading and discussing Seiðr. Hel also spends a lot of time teaching him about the other realms and its peoples.

She also regals him with stories she heard as a little girl in Asgard, as well as around the other various realms. 

Those are some of Hadrian’s favorite.

Though not as much as when Hel just sits down with him and talks to him. They discuss all kinds of things… sometimes moral conundrums, other times something that Hadrian learned which he didn’t quite understand or… sometimes about how he feels. Or how she feels.

Hadrian learns that communicating his feelings is sometimes liberating, when there is someone who cares to listen that is.

His big brothers also often ask him things, but never as much or as perceptively as Hel does.

Midgard is okay now, but… it isn’t really home anymore. Wherever Hel is, is home now.

And Hadrian is perfectly okay with that.

---

Hadrian’s teachers are Kings and Queens.

Not all of them, of course, but… many.

At first this weirds him out, but Hel very reasonably explains that he is in essence going to be helping her rule this world, and meet out Death to those whose times has come.

This is especially true here, since Hel’s people all die by being wicked, catching disease, or simply having the ‘misfortune’ to die of old age, as opposed to in battle.

Just Harry’s luck that his parents died fighting.

But the point is, that Hadrian’s teachers are Kings and Queens.

King Dyggvi, who is a large man of 50 or so years when he died, is Swedish, and from the House of Ynglings. He was a King during peace times, and he teaches Hadrian governance through peace.

Hadrian isn’t very fond of these lessons as they are usually administration-heavy, instead of sword-fighting heavy, or strategy or Seiðr or… but Dyggvi is alright. Despite All-Speak not being able to get rid of his accent.

His other teacher, Queen Victoria, teaches him about Power.

He always feels vaguely ill after those.

Hel assures him that is quite normal also.

Master Attila teaches him about Sword fighting and courage. Hadrian never asked how he died, since even a hint of that subject has Master Attila turning red while looking oddly proud.

Hadrian thinks it might have a little something to do with procreation and blood pressure but never actually wants to know more than that.

Death-by-sex is apparently also Hel’s domain.

That list of characters would be enough to give anyone pause really, except how some of his other teachers, aren’t Kings and Queens.

No.

They are the wicked.

Thankfully, Hel is there for those lessons. Every time.

She explains and breaks down what the wicked do. How they become this. How they thrive on it. What motivates them.  

And at first, Hadrian is completely and utterly horrified.

Thankfully, Hel explains this is also a normal and natural response. Then she walks him through seeing things from a neutral perspective.

At first Hadrian really doesn’t want to… understand. But Hel explains it is important to understand the sources of such things, as it is also important to accept them as part of the Fabric of People and the Tapestry.

They existed and still do exist. Denying their existence is helping them exist.

They also seemed to be – at least currently – what the Norns need in order to move the Tapestry onwards.

While none of them are obligated to assist the Norns in anything, ever, it is also dangerous to be ignorant of it.

Understanding this goes a long way in bringing Hadrian some sense of balance.

The other-other kinds of teachers he has? The ones who died old.

Here, he learns their fears. He learns the things that mattered to them in the end. And just how many things are distractions and forked roads.

He spends a lot of time with his teachers. Time moves strangely at his new home. He rather likes it, as he can feel like he has spent hours talking and discussing ideas with his teachers or practicing his sword, while truly little time would have passed on Midgard.  

Physically, he doesn’t age when he is on Nifleheim, but he does learn.

He also feels like a part of him starts to work through his time with the Dursley’s.

He still doesn’t understand how they could hate someone related to them. Especially someone who has never done them harm, but Hel helps him see how much jealousy could twist a soul, and it helps Hadrian understand that it has never even been about him, per se.

It doesn’t exactly give him peace, but it does help him sort a lot of the hidden pain within himself.

Hel insists that before he can lead others, let alone a world, he must first face his own hurts and put them in their place.

He does cry.

He cries kind of a lot actually, but Hel is always there. She helps him past his pain and his embarrassment and his eventual anger.

Until there is something like peace inside him.

He shudders to think how he would have been without her, and thanks the Norns every day that Vernon hit him hard enough that day to send him to her prematurely.

The Norns, Hel has assured him, have always worked in very strange ways.

Blessings aren’t always blessings, and curses aren’t always curses either.

Only the Tapestry knows.

Hadrian thinks no matter what, he is alright with the outcome.

--

On the day Hadrian turns 11, his letter arrives via a barn owl.

Having been expecting it for some time, thanks to his and his Sister’s reading, he is prepared for it.

His stuff has been purchased some time ago. The bookstore was very helpful in getting him his books even though the booklist had not been sent yet. That might have something to do with his Sister and her previous purchase of every copy there, but if it gets Hadrian out of shopping with the entire school, then he will count it as the blessing is it.

They don’t bother taking the express. Hel simply has him shadowwalk right into the castle, where the main entrance is.

Since he sees a bunch of kids his physical age going in through a large Feasting Hall door, he follows them, figuring he should be at the right place.

No one much notices him, except a dusky-skinned boy with wavy black hair, who’s eyes widen when Hadrian just is suddenly standing next to him.

Hadrian offers him a small smile, but then they are moving into the Feasting Hall.

On first impression, Hadrian thinks it is a little small, and not nearly as grand as the Feasting Hall in Nifleheim. Granted, only the honored dead are invited to Hel’s Halls, but usually there are a few hundred thousand people at those.

Hadrian supposes the Seiðr community just isn’t so big to need that large a Hall.

Still, the ceiling is cute if a bit modest with candles floating in mid-air. Hadrian at least finds the night sky being reflected familiar, and thinks that some things are the same as back home at least.

As per their reading, Hadrian and Hel learned that Hogwarts has four houses, as it had four founders. He is a little surprised that it is a Legilimency hat that sorts them, but shrugs a little. It won’t be able to read anything from him he doesn’t want it to. The First Waters and his family have made sure of that.

His scar has been gone for some years now, so no one really recognizes him with his long hair, no-glasses and no-scar face. Hadrian has seen the books, and both him and Hel have wondered who has been spying on him that they managed to draw a Harry so accurately, but Hel theorized that they might have just taken a childhood image of his father after all and changed the eye color.

However, they did it, they haven’t come check up on him for some time, since it is clear no one has updated the books with his new look, and those changes happened when he was 6 going on 9.

When the H’s are read out, Hadrian wonders if the professor even realizes that ‘Potter’ will not be on the list.

“Hel… Helbróðir, Hadrian.”

The stern looking professor butchers his name a little, but he gives her points for making a valiant effort. He steps forward and when the Hat is put on his head, he realizes a few things.

The silence is deafening.

Well? Are you going to ask me anything, Hat? Hadrian thinks at it.

“I… I don’t dare. Where… that is… where do you wish to be placed?”

Hadrian feels his eyebrows furrow, You will not try to look into my head?

“Your mind has the marking of a God. It is completely closed to me. I don’t know who or… what you are, but I do not dare attempt a reading. Instead, you will tell me where you want to go, and I will put you there. Unless… you are not here to take over the school, are you?”

Not that I am aware of, no. Hadrian tells it, somewhat amused.

“Oh good. Had to check, you understand. Now, where do you wish to be placed?” the Hat asks him, and Hadrian can almost detect a plaintiveness to its tone.

Hadrian thinks about it, but really, there is only one House which his mother has claimed as her wergild.

Slytherin please.

“Somehow, I thought you might say that. Best of luck, child touched by a God.” The hat tells him, then suddenly shouts, “SLYTHERIN”

Hadrian takes off the hat, and places it back on the chair. He makes his way to the green-colored table to a smattering of polite clapping, and looks up as he passes the Teacher’s table.

A dark-haired man with sallow skin nods at him, and he nods back. This must be his Head of House then.

He slides into the chair opposite a large blond girl with long hair, and gives her a nod. She starts to nod, then does a double take and really looks at him. Then she swallows, and nods back, looking a lot twitchier than before.

Several of the second and third years also stare at him.

But Hadrian has been expecting that.

--

“Helbróðir. You… claim Hel as your kin?” Nott asks him, very quietly, careful that no one overhears them.

Nott has immediately taken the seat next to him, as soon as he was sorted, much to Hadrian’s surprise since the majority of Slytherin has been a little… wary of him, and his admittedly still-forming aura.

Hadrian knows they can’t tell why they feel wary, aside from their instincts telling them there is something dangerous here. But Nott does not hesitate to sit by him, and Hadrian can’t help respecting his courage. Master Attila would like Nott, he thinks.

“I do.” Hadrian tells him, smiling a little.

Nott stares at him, and then bows his head in a not-exactly-shallow bow, and says, “It is a privilege to know you, Kin of a Goddess.”

Hadrian can’t really help himself, he is curious, so he raises an eyebrow at Nott in question.

Nott flushes a little, but looks him in the eye when he answers the unasked question, “My family is Norse. We still worship the Old Ways.” Then he pauses, as if debating if he should say it aloud, “Our family is especially devoted to Njord.”

Hadrian nods slowly, and privately wonders just how many people still worship the Pagan gods instead of the Christian one which their Headmaster seems to favor.

Zabini – who turns out to be the dusky-skinned, dark, curly haired, boy he was standing next to – asks him a similar question not a few hours later, when they are in their dormitories, and Hadrian discovers that the Zabini’s worship the Roman gods, especially Mars, as the Zabini’s were descended from the founders of Rome, namely Romulus and Remus.

Hadrian assumes that means Romulus not Remus, considering.

Perhaps it is the admittance of Pegan worship, but both Nott and Zabini stick by his side from then on, even above just sharing a dorm with him.

Draco Malfoy who is sharing a dorm with Crabbe and Goyle looks very surprised and puzzled at this turn of events, but does not confront them for it.

Surprisingly, neither does anyone else in Slytherin.

Bulstrode – the large blond girl from the Feast sitting opposite of him – also attaches herself to their little group, much to Hadrian’s amusement, but Nott tells him that the Bulstrodes are devout worshipper of Viðarr, the Silent God of Vengeance.

It seems that everyone knows that Hadrian’s dorm has shrines set up to the Pagan gods. It isn’t forbidden per se, as Hadrian learns quite a few of his classmates have shrines set up, but it is apparently frowned upon by the rest of the school – which Hadrian understands to be ‘Dumbledore and his lot’.

Hadrian couldn’t care less what the Headmaster thinks, since no one will get in the way of him expressing his love for his Sister, but he does notice that while both Nott and Zabini have a main God they worship, they also have additional shrines for other gods they offer prayer and Blót to.

Hadrian only has Hel as his shrine. While there are two figurines for Fenrir and Jor, his shrine is to his Sister.

He is also one of the few who offers his blood to her.

Perhaps it is the Seiðr of the First Waters, but those are the only scars which take a full day to heal for him. Perhaps in deference to the fact that they are offerings and not injuries.

Hadrian knows that his worship of blood makes Nott and Zabini pause, but he also knows they notice that his previous scars disappear, and while they have never said so, they seem to consider this a sign of favor from Hel.

Of course, Hadrian is favored by Hel, just by being her littlest brother, but they don’t know that and always look so impressed when his offering of blood immediately vanishes from his offering-bowl.

It could also just be the fact that out of all of his classmates, Hadrian is the only one who only worships the Goddess of Death.

This, combined with his sinister aura, makes quite a few Slytherins wary to mess with him in any way.

Hadrian is actually rather amused that when he does ask for help, in any way, no one from Slytherin turns him down or gives him a hard time about it. Not even Malfoy whom Hadrian considered a potential problem.

It seems the Scion of House Malfoy might have considered fighting him for the top spot of Year One Slytherin, but an incident a few days into the term changed his mind.

Namely, Hadrian had been walking to his Transfigurations class when he heard a cry from a classroom whose door was slightly ajar.

Curious, Hadrian poked his head to see what was going on, and what he saw immediately made him tense.

Inside the classroom, a Ravenclaw first year, was trying to stop a bunch of other Ravenclaw first year girls from tossing around what seems to be… a toad?

Hadrian blinked, but yes it was an actual-to-Hel toad.

The upset first year girl, who was desperately trying to stop them from tossing the unfortunate toad between them, was jumping up and down trying to catch it, her wild curls flying everywhere, while the other girls laughed and jeered.

The distressed girl kept saying “Stop it! Stop it! That’s Neville’s toad, please!” but the others clearly weren’t listening.

In her desperation, she rushed one of the girls and tried to tackle her, but the others just yanked her off. The girl who was holding the toad, and whom the wild-hair girl tried to tackle got angry and said, “You want it? Fine! Here!” and she hurled the poor toad, hard, against the opposite wall.

The poor toad didn’t stand a chance, and made a rather loud splat sound when it hit the wall, dropping onto it’s back, seemingly dead.

The wild-haired girl let out an anguished cry, and maybe it is that or the seemingly thoughtless cruelty which has Hadrian opening the door to step inside.

These girls, if they died, would go to his home, for sure.

Nott, Zabini, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle who had been walking with him stopped outside the door but did not follow him in, instead, they stood at the door, observing.

Hadrian realized suddenly that he was angry. Very angry.

He hated bullies, and watching that toad made him remember the garden snake he found when he was younger, which Dudley thoughtlessly stepped on and killed, only because Harry had liked it and had spoken to it.

Hadrian at first does not notice that his aura had started to spread, until the first bully-girl started to shiver, and turned to look at him, wide-eyed.

The wild-haired girl was still cradling the poor toad in her hand, crying over it, so she doesn’t see him enter but the others do.

Hadrian knows his eyes are glowing with power – his Sister had warned him this would happen when he felt a strong emotion, but he doesn’t care. He is too angry, so he doesn’t hold in his aura, instead he allowed it to reach for the 3 girls who have been bullying one of their own.

All three girls immediately paled and started to shiver, rooted to the spot in fear which they cannot understand but cannot fight either.

Once he was sure those three would not make a run, he walked over to the wild-hair girl, and crouched down, “Here, let me look at him. He might only be dazed.”

Knowing that wasn’t the case, because he could see the little toad’s soul barely holding on to its body with his mind’s eye, he carefully took it from wild-hair girl, who seemed to have finally noticed him but seemed to be too distressed to be afraid. She carefully handed the toad to him, and he focused his Seiðr on it.

Slowly, carefully, using the methods his Sister taught him, he proceeded to reattach the barely tethered soul back to the toad’s body. Hel had been VERY explicit that he was not allowed to do that if the soul had already been severed, but so long as even one tendril hung on, Hadrian could re-attach it back to the body with no adverse effect to the creature. Hel told him that as Death’s People, they alone possess the ability to do this, and if anyone else tries it, they would be Upsetting Death A Great Deal.

But as Death’s Chosen, they were allowed to use their judgement to save a soul which was still fighting for its life.

This toad, definitely wanted to live, so Hadrian obliged it.

When he was done, the toad stirred a little, since it was still injured, but Hadrian handed it back to the girl and told her, “Okay, I have done what I can, it won’t die yet. Take him to the Healing Hall and mediWitch should be able to heal all his injuries without him dying on you on the way there.”

The girl looked at him with huge, tear-streaked brown eyes, but nodded quickly and gratefully. She might not have any idea what he did but she felt his Seiðr working on the toad. She carefully scoops the amphibian up, and with a quick, but very heartfelt “Thank you!” she ran, with the toad, out of the classroom.

Hadrian watched her run out, and his classmates’ part for her with little fuss, then slowly turned his now-glowing-again eyes on the three frozen girls.

“That was cruel, thoughtless and very nearly, evil.” He told them, using some of his Sister’s bearing, he stood up, and leveled them with Hel’s most disapproving expression. “If you are not careful, you will continue to grow into cruel, thoughtless and likely evil people. That is your prerogative, but I can tell you that if you do go down that path, I will be what is waiting for you at the end of that road.”

He let another pulse of his aura out, something he very rarely did around anyone, but these three deserved it.

One of the girl’s legs folded under her, the same way the Dursley’s had so long ago.

The other two girls were covered in sweat, and trembling.

He looked at them for a beat more, knowing his glowing eyes were probably freaking them completely out, then he turned and walked out of the room. His Slytherin classmates and friends’ part for him to pass.

Zabini glanced one more time at the three girls, leveling them with a rather disgusted look, him and Nott follow him.

Hadrian remembers now, thinking back on the incident, that Malfoy had waited a full 3 minutes before saying, very evenly, “You know, sometimes, you can be really terrifying.”

Hadrian remembers throwing him a smile over his shoulder, his eyes still glowing a little but slowly subsiding back to their normal green, and saying a bit tightly, “Bullies bring that out of me.”

Malfoy has been very careful to never bully anyone in front of Hadrian from that day onwards.

It probably has something to do with the Ravenclaw bullies being sent to the infirmary a week later because one of them collapsed from not sleeping for a week due to nightmares.

One good thing did come from that incident however, the wild-hair girl whose name turned out to be Hermione Granger, did bring the toad to the infirmary, and the toad made a full recovery as Hadrian had hoped.

Hadrian later learned from Pansy Parkinson who had a habit of acting mean but was actually a colossal gossip with a rather good heart, that Neville Longbottom had actually cried when he learned what happened.

That might be why a few days later, both Granger and Longbottom shuffle their way to the Slytherin table during breakfast, simply to say thank you for saving Trevor, which turns out to the toad’s name.

Hadrian nods and accepts their gratitude and he thinks that would be the end of that, but it isn’t.

Granger seems to have decided that he is a Good Guy, despite his aura occasionally making her shiver, and now, whenever she has the opportunity, she sits with him, either in class or in the library when he is studying. Helping him out whenever he gets stuck on a Wizard-logic problem.

It amuses Hadrian, but he doesn’t mind it. Rather admires her for not running for the hills really.

Nott and Zabini only pause once to stare at her, for which she gives them a defiant look, daring them to challenge her right to be there.

Both boys just look at him, and since he doesn’t express a desire for her to leave, they shrug and settle around him, incorporating her into their group.

Bulstrode has more hesitancy until Granger notices the book she is reading and suddenly they are chatting a mile a minute about some detective series they both seems to like.

Malfoy sneers when he sees her sitting next to Hadrian in class, but one steady look from Hadrian, and he backs off, muttering something about “adopting lost causes” and something else about “bleeding Gryffindor heart inside a Slytherin”

Parkinson sniffs, but considering Granger is very helpful with both homework and spellwork, and does not mind sharing that help with anyone in their study group, nor demands payment for it like any other Slytherin, no one really minds her too much.

Hadrian does hear a few “mudblood” comments, but all it takes to shut that down is a comment from him that when they die, they all go to the same place anyway, so blood status matters very little.

Considering he is the only one who worships Hel, and clearly has the Goddesses favor, none of the purebloods question it again.

--

Classes overall are fairly easy for Hadrian, for all that he doesn’t go out of his way to draw attention to himself. His teachers notice, but since he adopted Hermione, a known muggleborn, the Gryffindor professor, McGonagall seems marginally fonder of him than the rest of his Slytherin classmates. Hadrian wouldn’t say she is purposefully mean to any Slytherin, she just … isn’t very generous. Snape on the other hand, their own Head of House, is blatantly discriminatory towards Gryffindors. He isn’t terribly fond of Hufflepuffs, and he just barely tolerated Ravenclaws.

Still, since Granger seems to be the exception more or less embraced by most first year Slytherins, she gets a pass and Snape even occasionally awards her a few points for knowing something.

Hadrian is just glad he only shares 3 classes with Gryffindors, and History barely counts since everyone sleeps through that one.

He visits Hel every night when everyone goes to bed, since he only seems to need 2 hours of sleep a night to be perfectly rested, he prefers to sleep at home anyway.

Hel does spend a bit of time observing Nott, Zabini and Granger, and consulting her Book, but whatever she finds about them seems to please her, so she suggests he allows them to befriend him.

Hadrian has that in mind anyway, but it is always good to have his Sister approve and confirmation they are alright.

Harry Potter, according to the rumor mill, has vanished.

Hadrian finds out from Malfoy that Potter’s relatives have been unable to yield any information on where Potter went. Dumbledore has interrogated them, but thanks to Hel’s mark on them, he wasn’t able to read their minds at all. Hadrian also learns later that he even tried to break into Hadrian’s room but no matter what spell he tried, he couldn’t get in. He was only able to confirm that Potter wasn’t there, and the Dudley’s didn’t know when he has last been there.

Malfoy tells everyone it has to be some kind of powerful confudus spell, but Dumbledore has officially lost The-Boy-Who-Lived.

Hadrian thinks that belief might be for the best. After all, it would leave him free to tackle the task Death has set for him.

As Hel warned him, being in proximity of his aura definitely summons the Hallows. The day he discovers where the Headmaster’s office is, that same evening he goes to bed and wakes up with a cloak covering his blanket.

He notes that his blanket is suddenly invisible, and immediately realizes what it is.

One of the Hallows has found him.

He can’t help the giant grin that splits his face.

---

The second Hallow finds him, surprisingly, after he finds a mirror in an abandoned classroom.

He takes the wrong staircase and winds up in a hallway he has never been in before. There is only one door at the end of the hall, so he opens it and finds the mirror.

He feels Legilimency Seiðr touching him.

He lets it, more out of curiosity than anything else and it shows him his Sister, and his brothers all standing behind him, smiling.

So, Hadrian assumes it is a mirror that shows the people you love or family, or something similar. Ultimately harmless and he figures it’s just one of those Hogwart’s things.

The Hadrian in the mirror then does something interesting, and smiles at him while holding a red stone in his hand. The image then puts it in his pocket, and Hadrian feels a corresponding weight in his own pocket.

Interesting!

He is just about to pull it out to examine it, when Dumbledore of all people walks into the room.

The old man looks around the classroom for a moment, seemingly confused, then spots Hadrian.

Since he is still facing the mirror, Hadrian can see him walking towards him. But then, the Dumbledore in the image does something just as image-Hadrian did. He is holding a knobby, black wand, and then puts it in Harian’s pocket.

Once again, Hadrian feels the weight of the wand settle in his other pocket.

Suddenly he is glad Hel has charmed all his pockets to be able to fit whatever he wants, same as on her dress and cloak, otherwise the wand would have surely fallen out.

Dumbledore seems to not have seen any of this, and asks Hadrian what he sees in the mirror. Hadrian decides there is no harm in telling him, so he says he sees his family together and happy forever. He smiles a little when he says it, thinking ‘forever’ really is just that in their case. Well. Till Ragnarök anyway. But even then, he has the comfort of knowing the cycle just starts again, and he will see them again one day, as long as he is patient. In the meantime, he will still have Hel.

That answer seems to please Dumbledore, and he tells him it is best he doesn’t come back.

Hadrian shrugs, and promises him he won’t.

It’s just a wishing-mirror anyway. His reality is a lot better.

That evening, Hel congratulates him for finding the second Hallow as soon as he comes through the shadows.

Hadrian is a little shocked, since it is the wand that is the Hallow. He has to get Hel to confirm three times that the red stone isn’t the resurrection stone, since it feels really full of Seiðr to his touch, but Hel has to disappoint him.

It is a useless Philosopher stone.

Hadrian supposes the ability to turn lead into gold might be useful someday, but mostly, he leaves it in his room in Niflheim and forgets about it.

He actually goes back to the room with the mirror, half hoping the resurrection stone will also pop into his pocket like the other two did, but he is rather disappointed, because…

The mirror isn’t in the room any more.

Figures.

The Norns wouldn’t make it that easy for him.

--

After he gets the wand, his vision changes a bit.

Suddenly, he can see in a lot more detail than he could before. Souls, spirits, ghost… all become detectable to him within a rather large radius.

Seiðr becomes even easier than it used to.

Oh, not the weird Wizards Seiðr – thought that gets easier too – but Niflheim Seiðr. He wills it, and it manifests. Sometimes he has to be firm still, or coaxing, but it is definitely easier and doesn’t drain him as much as it used to.

He makes Hel a pair of glasses which color the flowers in her meadow with a riot of colors. It doesn’t change the flowers – nothing really could that Hadrian knows of – but when she is wearing them, the Seiðr allows her to see them in a multitude of colors.

She absolutely loves her gift and gives him a long, long hug and even a kiss on the forehead for it!

Hadrian feels warm, both in his Seiðr and inside for several weeks after.

Unfortunately, his new power-up also allows him to see a black… something on the back of his defense teacher’s head.

He tells Hel about it, and she decides to investigate by the expediency of simply showing up from one moment to the next when Hadrian’s class finishes and everyone else leaves the room. Hadrian stays also, with the excuse of wishing to speak to Professor Quirrell, knowing his Sister is right there.

Hadrian feels the classroom suddenly lock, and Hel’s aura announces her louder than any sound could.

To Quirrell’s credit, he whirls around at an impressive speed and starts to point his wand at Hadrian, before he registers the terrifying entity that is Hel.

Within a few moments, Hel has him paralyzed. Hadrian steps closer to try and show her where he saw the black anomaly, but his finger accidentally brushes the back of Quirrell’s neck and immediately starts to smoke.

Hadrian has a moment to panic that from now onwards, his touch will burn people – something not even Hel does, though her touch is frighteningly cold – but then Hel makes a hissing noise – one of her distaste noises Hadrian knows well – and waves her hand.

Quirrell’s turban falls away, and Hadrian nearly takes a step back in surprise when a face of all things is revealed on the back of the head.

“Ew.” Is all Hadrian can really say because… ew.

“Quite. This is another piece of the shard. I will take it now.” Hel says, and the face tries to scream but Hel’s Seiðr just yanks at it, and it comes out like a wriggling worm.

She deftly puts it into a container. Hadrian knows it will be fed to the First Waters as soon as she is back home.

Quirrell jerks, and starts to sort of… crumble like he is turning into dust and…

Hadrian is surprised Hel has condemned him to be bodyless, but then realizes that the removal of the soul shard is what is causing – oh Hel, the idiot must have drunk unicorn blood.

He kind of wants to ask Hel if maybe Tom Voldie doesn’t recruit only the egregiously stupid or infect people with idiocy, and if there is such a spell because it seems his followers have as little common sense as Voldie himself does.

What a waste of a soul, never able to go anywhere. Trapped and cursed for killing and consuming something so pure.

Hadrian shakes his head, and watches Quirrell’s spirit sort of… dissipate into Midgard.

Forever conscious, never able to reform again or effect anything.

Cursed indeed.

--

His summer ends up being pretty great because Hel takes him to visit Nidavellir.

The dwarves are really interesting, and not just because they aren’t afraid of Hel or her aura.

Hel tells him that dwarven spirits, upon death, become part of the stone of their planet, their souls merging in a seamless cycle or creation and reabsorption.

Only the ones who have lost their way and became out of sync with the Stone are condemned to wandering, and that is rare for their species.

When they first arrive, Hadrian has a moment to think it reminds him a lot of home, since it is so dark with only the cosmos above providing any kind of light, but that is until they go underground.

They are welcomed into the Golden Halls of Sindri, and all that gold veins in the stone above and below them really light up the place.

Hel tells him their two worlds are rather close together, and there are several shortcuts to get to here if Hadrian ever wants to visit again. She cautions him not to do so before he becomes fully the Master, but shows him just the same.

She even tells him that Niðhöggr can show him as well, since one passage is right around where he hangs out.

Hadrian makes a note to bribe the dragon with some particularly-evil corpse, one of the dragon’s favorite snacks. As it is, Niðhöggr is rather fond of Hadrian, and lets him ride on his back when he flies around Yggdrasill’s many branches.

The dwarves are the most welcoming of Hel that he has seen so far, and that immediately endears them to Hadrian.

Clearly, they have good taste.

Their Seiðr is entirely focused on creation, and Hadrian is completely in awe of their ability to harness the energy from collapsing celestial bodies in order to fire up their enormous forges.

Since Hel introduces him as her new little brother, and the future Master of Death, the dwarves welcome him as if he is Hel’s family and deserving of the same respect.

Hel tells him that Idunn, who grows the golden apples of immortality, is a Sister of the famous smiths, the Sons of Ivaldi, who seem to be some combination of dwarf and dark elf.

But the point is? Great smiths.

Hel promises him that one day, she will commission them to make him a weapon worthy of Death’s Chosen.

When he grows up a little more.

Hadrian huffs, but in the end, understands.

He is 11 after all, physically. Still a child, even by Æsir standards.

--

Second year, he finds one of the items which will one day be in his dwarven weapon.

Or rather, it calls to him.

He hears the hisses of Master Master Master long before he can figure out where it is coming from.

He follows the call to a flooded bathroom, but the sound stops there.

Looking around, he notices a … void by one of the sinks. The sink is there, but there is no stone behind it, at least not to his senses.

After examining it closely, he sees a little snake and tells it to show him what’s there.

To his surprise, the sink slides away revealing a dark hole below.

He isn’t stupid enough to jump down. He is still – somewhat – mortal after all. But instead, he hisses into the hole, :: I am here, come to me. ::

A moment later, a head half the size of Jörmungandr pokes through the hole. Its eyes are milky and Hadrian realizes it is a very large snake, and it has its eyes closed.

:: You are not… my first, or my second Master. But you… feel like Master. :: Is what is says to him, sounding very confused, and Hadrian has a moment to wonder how long it has lived down there by itself.

:: I am not. I am Hadrian, brother of Jörmungandr, Hel and Fenrir. Due to my brother’s blessing, I am friend of all snakes. ::

The snake seems to relax somehow, Hadrian isn’t sure how he knows this, but he does.

:: That is good. You feel like friend but also like Master. I was worried you were the second Master who wished to control me with his magics, and make me kill more of the hatchlings I am sworn to protect. :: it tells him, sounding relieved.

Hadrian recoils a little, because that’s just… not right, :: No, I am definitely not him. What was his name? I will want to eliminate him if he wishes harm on hatchlings. ::

:: He was called Tom. :: and really, Hadrian really should have known.

:: Good news, he is currently dead. I will be collecting the rest of his soul soon too, and sending it to my Sister to deal with. :: Hadrian tells it with more than a little satisfaction.

:: Good! He was a bad egg. :: the large snake tells him, sounding both pleased and relieved.

:: What is your name? Why do you have your eyes closed? :: Hadrian asks it, because it was kind of confusing him.

:: I….do not remember it any more. My Salazar used to call me by it but… it has been a long time since I thought of it. Even longer since anyone called me by it. The second one – Tom – never asked. ::

Hadrian sucks in a breath. He remembers how it felt not remember his own name, until Hel gave him a new one.

:: Should I give you a new name then? I also did not know my full name before my Sister found me. Everyone should have a name. :: Hadrian tells it.

:: I think I would like to have a name again, yes. :: the large serpent seems to think for a bit and then nods.

:: How about Ormr ? It means serpent in Norse. I am afraid it’s not terribly original… :: He tells it, blushing a little.

:: Ormr. I like it. I am the little king of snakes so it is fitting. Only the God of snakes is more powerful than me. :: Ormr tells him proudly.

Hadrian just laughs.

He bet Jor will love this serpent.

--

In the end, Hadrian suggests to Ormr to move to Niflheim with him, since there isn’t much left for him here.

Ormr agrees, seems he’s been quite lonely these past 1000 years, and he says it would be nice to have someone to speak to. Hadrian explains to him that in Niflheim, he can keep his eyes open, since those touched by the First Waters can’t die anyway, and he would be free to roam around.

Privately, Hadrian thinks he would get along with Niðhöggr, since both of them are immortal and one-of-a-kind.

He worries a little about Ormr, since he is technically not of Niflheim, but Hel promises that with just a touch of her Seiðr, he would be just fine there. Basilisks also loved the taste of evil, same as Niðhöggr, as Hadrian suspected, so it should work out.

Plus, no roosters in Niflheim, so there is that.

Ormr is very pleased with his new home, so much so that he gifts Hadrian one of his large fangs which he shed, full of his venom, as a thank you gift. It is this tooth that the dwarves later make into a sword for Hadrian, calling it God Killer, since Basilisk venom is one of the few things that did work on Gods. Hadrian who had ingested the First Waters is perfectly safe from it himself, as is Hel, but the same could not be said for any other Gods. Hadrian makes a note to one day introduce Odin to it.

Ormr also couldn’t stop being happy that that he doesn’t feel the cold any more. That might have something to do with the fact that Niðhöggr loves cuddling with Ormr, and both Hel and Hadrian have to restrain themselves from their aw’s because those two looked nothing more like two giant housecats cuddling. Fluffy, who Hadrian has also ‘liberated’ in first year, joins them sometimes, but he prefers to stay by the bridge, mostly because he gets to chase the evil souls around.

Fluffy had been another surprise, since it was so obviously clear that a Cerberus didn’t belong on Midgard. As soon as Hadrian found him, in an abandoned classroom no less, he had immediately called Hel.

It had taken some doing, but considering Hadrian smells like Fluffy’s home planet, the dog had practically turned into a puppy, desperately trying to sniff and lick him. Considering he also smells like Fenrir, Fluffy had immediately deferred to him in everything, despite not being a wolf himself.

It had taken him and Hel a bit to figure out how they even got such a large dog through such a small door, but ultimately, they hadn’t bothered to overthink it, just lead Fluffy into their shadows and taken him home.

Hadrian wouldn’t have even known his name, had Fluffy not been wearing a clearly home-made collar on all three of his heads proclaiming him Fluffy proudly. Personally, Hadrian thought someone had a sense of humor to call a Hell-dog ‘Fluffy’ but considering how much he enjoyed belly rubs, ear scratches and playing fetch, Hadrian could kind of see it.

All in all, Niflheim was livelier for their addition, and Sister finally got her wish to have pets.

--

Hadrian also finds another piece of Tom Voldie in the diary he finds in the flooded bathroom.

He has no idea why the Norns favor him so obviously. Maybe because he had continued to offer them candy with every Blót – and this might be the best guarded secret of the Nine, that the Norns seem to love mead and candy, especially the salted caramel kind, but Hadrian isn’t complaining if they decide to make his life easier and simply hand him Tom Voldie’s soul every so often to destroy.

Honestly, maybe they also find Tom offensive. Who wouldn’t really?

Hel is very amused that he finds Voldie’ soul shard in a flooded lady’s bathroom, but promises to dump the entire book into the First Waters right away.

Hel had previously told him just how many soul-shards Tom had made but seeing it was still… unsettling.

He makes a point in warning both Theo and Blaise to never split their souls, no matter what their books say, because it is a fate worse than death.

The two boys exchange looks at the non-sequitur, but considering their Death-worshipping roommate is saying this, Hadrian thinks their fervent nods are sincere.

--

That summer, before Hel takes them on another jaunt across the cosmos, they stop at Gringotts so Hadrian can finally claim the Potter vault now that various curious entities have stops sniffing around for him.

Dumbledore clearly hasn’t given up, but he has at least stopped bothering the Goblins about it, so Hel feels it is safe enough for him to claim it finally.

Hadrian also reminds her that one of the Voldie soul-shard’s location had been listed as Gringotts in her Book, which admittedly, they had both overlooked.

King Ragnock is understandably horrified when told, and immediately offers them full access to Gringotts so they can remove such an offensive thing from his Bank.

Normally, a Goblin would rather die than allow someone unauthorized access to a vault, but the Gods and Goddesses are clearly exempt from this rule.

A great many Goblins are disturbed by Hel and Hadrian’s presence but considering Hel has assured them up-front she is here for a non-Goblin soul, they all relax and become very helpful in searching the Bank top to bottom.

It takes them a few hours, and the Goblins identify a great many items which could potentially hold Tom’s soul shard and Hadrian goes through all of them meticulously.

When he does find it, he is very confused why the Hel Voldie would put his soul into a goblet of all things, but considering he did, Hadrian just shrugs and hands it over to Hel to feed to the First Waters.

The Waters themselves seem very pleased every time Hadrian feeds them a piece of Tom, and he always feels ridiculously powerful for months afterwards, the Seiðr inside his blood practically singing from the power-up. Considering Hadrian barely touches the Waters when he drops the Goblet in – okay so he got splashed a bit – it is obvious he has the Favor of the Waters.

Plus, Niðhöggr tells him so, and he should know.

--

This time, Hel takes him to Álfheimr, and he gets to meet the ljósálfar, the Light Elves.

Considering they are the palest people Hadrian has ever met – even more than Lovegood and Malfoy by a large margin – that is saying a lot. Their hair is white-gold, and their skins is practically translucent it is so white. Their faces and ears are a bit…pointy, and their Seiðr is like them, golden-white.

They also have a completely unique way of using Seiðr because instead of casting it, they sing things into existence.

Hel tells him it is one of the original Seiðrs, formed at the very beginning of the world, and that the Yggdrasill responds to their Seiðr vibrations as if it is Creation Seiðr.

Completely different from the dwarves’ Seiðr which Hadrian saw the summer before this one, but still of creation, and thus beautiful.

Hadrian finds a kind of peace among the Álfheimr ljósálfar which he never felt before, and they end up staying almost till the start of term, longer than they had planned.

Their god-king, Freyr, gifts Hadrian a glass ball, which reminds him a lot of Longbottom’s Remembrall. The king tells him inside is a piece of the World Song – Yggdrasill’s Song  – and when activated, a song of such beauty plays that Hadrian immediately feels himself completely relaxing and can only sway with the tune helplessly.

The god-king is very surprised when he sees tears in Hadrian’s eyes, but then smiles at him warmly, and tells him he now understands why he is family of Death. No one who could appreciate Yggdrasill’s Song could be anything but inherently In Balance.

Hadrian leaves Álfheimr reluctantly and promises to return soon.

If he wasn’t already sworn to Niflheim, he would likely move there.

--

In third year, Hadrian finally starts to understand what it meant to be a sort-of Prince of Niflheim, or as close to it as was possible to be a Prince of the Underworld.

It happens during a Quidditch game, which he had been watching with mild interest. He had been asked to join the Quidditch team, but while he loved flying, he didn’t feel like being restrained by a training schedules.

Plus, after flying on Niðhöggr since he was a kid, flying on a broom just isn’t as fun.

They are watching the Slytherin vs Gryffindor game, when suddenly, there is what looks to be a dark cloud heading for them, and some of the younger kids scream and fall down in fear.

It takes Hadrian a second to understand what he is seeing and when he does, a lot of the screaming makes sense.

The dementors have arrived.

They swoop down and they are moments from reaching him and then –

…

Well.

This is… a bit unexpected.

Not only are the Dementors not attacking him, he also doesn’t feel anything coming off of them the way everyone else seems to, but…

They are kneeling.

All of them.

All of the Dementors are kneeing in front of him.

They don’t exactly have legs, but they are crouched and looking down, hooded cloaks bowed, and not one of them is trying to attack him.

Then Hadrian realizes what is happening.

Dementors are creatures of Niflheim. They are soul-eaters, and creatures which belonged to Death.

The kneeling abruptly makes a lot more sense.

“Why are you here?” Hadrian asks them, already suspecting the answer.

We were promised a soul, Chosen-by-Death. We are hungry.  The creature in the front hisses into his mind, the All-Speak making it possible for him to understand them, and for his brain not to bleed out hearing their language.

“The soul promised to you is under my protection. But as you are owed a soul, I will grant you one. Take the soul of the one who ordered you to eat the soul I am protecting. I will tell my Sister I allowed it.”

Yes, Chosen. Thank you, Chosen. The Dementors hissed as one, seemingly pleased.

“Oh, before I forget. Voldemort is an abomination and my Sister has plans for him. He will be given to the River. Do not assist him anymore.”

There is a hiss, and Hadrian realizes they are giggling.

Yes, Chosen. It will be as you command.

He is about to dismiss them, except the Dementor at the very front, who seems to be the spokesperson gives off a sense of hesitation.

“What is it?” Hadrian asks, curious now.

…Chosen, can we go home? Is our punishment complete yet?

The creature sounds almost plaintive, and Hadrian notices the rest of the Dementors are deathly quiet.

Hadrian cocks his head in thought.

“I don’t know. I was not the one who sentenced you to this atonement. But tell you what, since you have been so cooperative, I will ask my Sister. If your time is up, I will ask her to grant you passage back home, to Niflheim. Would that suit?”

Thank you, Chosen. We are most grateful. We… thought the Gods had forgotten us.  

“That is unlikely, unless the God that sentenced you has Fallen and joined the stars. Which is always possible. I will check next time I go home, which should be soon. I will send you a signal when I have an answer. In the meantime, don’t eat any of the children from this school. They too are under my protection, at least until I revoke it.”

The Dementors all bow even lower, in acceptance, and Hadrian nods, and walks away.

People are staring at him. Everyone is, actually. But that isn’t his problem.

Theo and Blaise join him shortly afterwards, and Theo gives him a look under his lashes.

“The Dementors… they don’t affect you.” It is less a question than a statement.

Hadrian just smiles at him.

“You… call the Underworld your home.” This time it is more a statement, than a question, so Hadrian doesn’t bother nodding, but he thinks Theo and Blaise get it.

---

The next morning the Daily Prophet headlines scream:

MINSTER OF MAGIC KISSED! Are any of us safe?!

The article goes on in a semi-panicked and semi-excited tone to describe how Fudge was ‘ambushed’ on his way from the store and kissed on the spot last night without any fanfare and before anyone could so much as react to stop it. The author speculates why the dementors suddenly turned on the man they were supposedly working for, and why they left Hogwarts without so much as a by-your-leave and more importantly, where they might be now?!

Hadrian knows they all went back to Azkaban to wait for word from him, but doesn’t feel the need to share that with any of the kids reading their own copies of the Prophet and speculating in excitement.

The article also wonders why no one else was attacked, only the Minister himself. It happened so quickly that the people who were nearby never even felt the Dementor aura before the Minister was dropping to the floor, his soul having been sucked out faster than anyone could blink.

Hadrian folds his copy with satisfaction, and makes a note to tell Hel how well behaved the Dementors have been. It will surely please her.   

--

After The Dementor Incident, as Hadrian has started to call it in his head, the Slytherins, collectively, start acting differently around him.

For one, Theo and Blaise are now constant shadows by his side. They were there since first year, but now they don’t leave him.

The other older Slytherins defer to him, if he chooses to speak. Even Malfoy, who normally isn’t his biggest fan, defers to him now. Without trying, Hadrian has become Someone Very Important in Slytherin.

He briefly wonders how this will affect him in the long run, then shrugs it off. He is still Hadrian, and his future isn’t on Midgard anyway.

Kingsley Shacklebolt is made interim Minister, something that both Slytherin and Gryffindor seem pleased with.

Draco Malfoy later shares with the whole common room, that Fudge had planned to put a ministry mole – some woman called Umbitch or Umbatch or something – into Hogwarts but with his death, Kingsley had put a stop to it.

Instead, all the Hogwarts professors take turns teaching them defense that year, and Hadrian makes a note to tell the Dementors to come visit the school’s wards sometimes, so they can eat the Death curse on the defense position. It will feed them, and maybe they can stop the yearly defense position shuffle.

Honestly. Voldie was such a child sometimes.

--

The other interesting thing he learns that year, is what it really means to be Fenrir’s littlest brother.

Namely, his defense teacher that year is a werewolf.

He discovers this pretty much the moment he meets the man, and the man – one Remus Lupin – is forced to dismiss the first class he has, prematurely, because his eyes refuse to stop flashing yellow every time he turns them towards Hadrian, which is pretty much every chance he can.

Hadrian stays after the class clears out, as do Theo and Blaise, but Professor Lupin can’t seem to help himself when he drops to one knee in front of Hadrian seemingly as soon as the classroom door closes and in a broken voice, says, “Master.”

Hadrian can see Theo and Blaise startle, but he can’t focus on them right now because Remus is desperately fighting his instincts and Hadrian knows he will hurt himself if he continues. Hel had looked up Remus Lupin when Hadrian had told her he was the new professor, in case he was somehow relevant to Hadrian’s God-quest, and they were both surprised to find out who Remus’s sire was. Hel had been quite ticked off, and promised to let Fenrir know about it as soon as possible, as feral werewolves are a menace generally, and Fenrir does not tolerate them usually. But the currently-fighting Remus does not know any of this, so instead, he leans down and whispers into Lupin’s ear:

“I am the kin of the real Fenrir – the first Wolf. The abomination that uses my brother’s name which has done this to you, had no right to call himself by my brother’s name and will be punished. He is already lost to his blood-lust, and my brother would not allow him to live once he knows of him, nor would I. You are not required to submit to me, only not hurt me or mine, or any other innocent. I can feel that you have killed at least one human but I do not know if he had deserved it. Did he?” Because it is best to know if he was dealing with another feral werewolf right away.

“He deserved it!” Lupin finally looks up, seemingly only so he could show Hadrian his sincerity. “He betrayed the Potters, and me and my brother Sirius went after him. Sirius… Sirius died by his wand, I wasn’t fast enough to save him, but I ripped out the traitor’s throat before he could turn into the rat he was and run away. The Ministry was told Sirius was the traitor and never believed him dead - the Ministry even regularly sent Dementors to Hogsmead and Diagon just in case he showed up - but… Sirius wasn’t the traitor. I couldn’t save him. Pettigrew blew him up together with the muggles. I wasn’t fast enough, because of that stain we once called friend.” Lupin tells him, voice full of anguish and pain but also conviction, and with a start, Hadrian realizes Lupin was his birth parent’s friend! He knew that his godfather had been murdered – all the history books said so – but they also said both of his parents’ friends had died, leaving only one of them alive. This must be that friend!

Remus Lupin cannot betray him because Fenrir’s gift prevented him from doing so, but no one else in the Wizarding world save for King Ragnock knew Hadrian was Harry Potter, and while Hadrian has the sudden impulse to tell him the truth, he hesitates and decides to consult his Sister instead, least he does something unwise.

So instead, he says, still whispering, “I believe you. You will come with me to meet my Sister’s brother, the real Fenrir. He will override the mongrels bite and free you from him. In the meantime, tell no one of this.”

Lupin – Hadrian supposes he should think of him as Remus now – looks up with such hope in his eyes, and nods very firmly, seemingly unable to speak from the emotion gripping him, so Hadrian simply offers him a hand.

Remus grasps it, and if Hadrian had been fully mortal, Remus likely would have yanked him to the ground, but instead, Hadrian simply yanks him up from the stone floor and smiles at him reassuringly.

After they leave, Theo and Blaise’s silence is a little deafening, but they know better than to ask. If Hadrian wants them to know, they know he will tell them.

He will tell them later. After he speaks to Hel.

--

Hel is very interested in this turn of events and agrees to speak to Fenrir about it right away.

Fenrir in turns sends a Grim, which tells him to bring Remus to him.

When Remus sees the Grim however, he very nearly goes weak-kneed. Hadrian has a moment to wonder if Remus isn’t afraid of death or something, but then Remus stemmers that Sirius’s Animagus form had been a Grim, which makes Hadrian’s face quirk a little. 

Seems his entire life has been touched by signs of death since the beginning.

Hadrian takes Remus through his shadows, and doesn’t answer his many questions on how he does this. Instead, he leads him to Fenrir, who is just as big as the first time Hadrian saw him.

When Remus sees him, he immediately exposes his belly, seemingly instinctively and drops to his knees.

Fenrir sniffs him carefully, but then snorts air out of his snout, saying Remus tastes of a mad wolf and makes Hadrian tell him all about the other wolf calling himself by his namesake. They all agree to call that wolf Greyback from then on, and Fenrir promises Remus that he will be dealt with in short order.

Fenrir then shrinks down to a smaller size – which Hadrian hadn’t even known he could do – and takes care of Remus’s Sire Mark by simply biting over top of it.

Remus’s body ripples, and he cries out, but a moment later, a tan wolf is standing where Remus used to be.

Fenrir releases his bite from Remus’s neck and spits the black blood from his mouth – Greyback’s taint hitting the dirt and vanishing.

Remus then does something which leaves him wide-eyed, and changes back into a human.

His face is streaked with tears and he stares at Fenrir with such naked gratitude, Hadrian almost feels uncomfortable.

When Hadrian looks at Fenrir, Fenrir huffs, and tells him that in addition to removing Greyback’s taint, he also gave Remus the ability to control his shift, so that Remus is no longer beholden to the full moon and could change – or not change – whenever he wanted. His wolf would also never go feral during the change, and Remus would be fully conscious and in control in his wolf-form.

He does caution Remus that he still is a werewolf, so he has to let his wolf out to run frequently, or he won’t feel too good, but he could have a normal life from now on.

Remus cries for quite a long time after that, especially since both Fenrir and Hadrian assure him that Sirius died a warrior’s death and was likely with the Potter’s now in Valhalla.

--

Remus is surprised that Fenrir makes him swear an unbreakable vow – a God-level one since it is to Fenrir himself – and is completely shocked to learn that Hadrian is Harry Potter, and immediately loses his composure again. The poor man seems to have experienced more emotions in one day than he has in the past decade, but he is beyond happy to know Hadrian is safe and has been growing up with such powerful parental figures, even if he is completely horrified that Hadrian is a Chosen of Death.

Hadrian himself has to spend a good few hours explaining that this is a good thing he swears and it is most definitely not a death sentences. The exact opposite in fact.

It takes Fenrir confirming it also to get Remus to calm down and start to accept that it just meant Hadrian had a lot more family, even if they are quite terrifying.

Once Hadrian tells him about the Horcruxes however, Remus gets a contemplative look on his face, and suggests that it is possible that Voldie gave his followers the various items containing them.

Considering Walburga Black was also a Volide follower – albeit not in the inner circle – Remus suggests they also check 12 Grimmauld’s Place since maybe there were some clues there also. If nothing else, the Black Library might hold some clues.

King Ragnock is more than happy to tell him the true location of the Black Manor, since Hadrian is the rightful owner now that Sirius has passed and left everything to his godson. Hadrian thinks it would be best if Hel joins them, but is a little worried how Remus would react.

Still, Hel is his Sister, so after Remus stops trying to shove Hadrian behind himself the moment she shows up and manages to override his protective instinct – something which makes Hel smile at him warmly and makes Remus want to shove Hadrian behind him some more – then all make it to the front door of 12 Grimmauld.

The blood wards allow Hadrian in with minimal fuss, but just to avoid any unpleasantness, he holds both Remus and Hel’s hand – much to Hel’s amusement – when he leads them past the threshold.

A particularly nasty painting starts to screech nearly immediately but one look from Hel, and it promptly shuts up so fast Hadrian has to wonder if he imagined it.

An old house elf then pops into existence in front of them, he takes one look at Remus, then Hadrian and starts to mutter darkly, but when his eyes land on Hel, he gasps, and immediately prostrates himself on the floor, saying, “Dea has finally come to take Kreacher away? Kreacher did not think he was worthy of such a blessing!”

Hel blinks at the creature for a moment, then says, “Rise.”

The house elf immediately does, his knobby knees popping with age.

“I am not here for you. Not yet. I am here for another purpose. There is one who has attempted to escape Death, and I am here to see if the House of Black has anything useful in finding this taint. If you know anything of it, you will tell me of it now.” His Sister says, every inch the commanding Queen that she is.

Kreacher shrinks back a little from her, and Hadrian notices that Remus does as well, seemingly on instinct but then Kreacher says, “Kreacher does not know if there is anything like that. But…” the old house elf wrings his old weathered hands, nervously, clearly frantically thinking.

“What is it?” His Sister asks it, since Kreacher seems to need permission.

“Kreacher is unsure if it is what Dea wants, but Kreacher’s little Master left something with Kreacher, and told Kreacher to find a way to destroy it. Little Master died to get it, and said the Mad Lord whom my dear Mistress followed had lied to the House of Black! He would not lead the House of Black to greatness like he promised! So Little Master stole something of his, and gave it to Kreacher, he said it was very important and that it would hurt the Mad Lord; but Kreacher is a wretched, useless elf, and has not been able to follow Little Master’s last orders!” The old elf wails a little, clearly despairing, and yanks on his ears harshly.

His Sister looks at the creature, but then says, “The Mad Lord… you mean Tom Voldemort, don’t you? Yes. Maybe it is the item I am looking for. Go bring it to me.” At her order, the elf stops mutilating his ears, and immediately pops away.

They wait for a moment, but Kreacher doesn’t have them wait long. He pops back with a loud crack and in his hands, he clutches an old locket.

Something black is inside it.

Something familiar.

His Sister smiles, and says, “Yes, I do believe this is the item. Who was your little Master? He did me a service when he stole this, and I shall be sure to reward his spirit.”

Kreacher suddenly has tears in his large bulbous eyes, and his voice trembles when he says, “Little Master was Regulus. Regulus Black, the rightful Lord of House Black. Dea will really reward little Master?”

“I am the Goddess of Death. If the dead did good in life, then it is my right to reward them. Give the locket to me. I will destroy it.”

Kreacher hastily gives her the locket, making sure to not touch his Sister in any way but his eyes never leave the locket in her hands.

“Let us see now.” saying this, Hadrian feels her Seiðr reach into the locket, and just as expected, a blood-curdling scream is heard as the now-familiar oily writhing mass leaves it as Hel yanks it out. His Sister isn’t muting the screams this time, maybe for Kreacher’s benefit, since the elf has a very weird expression on his face – both gleeful and revolted.

The locket crumbles in Hel’s hand as the soul shard leaves it, and Hel stuffs it into her little soul box after allowing it one last blood-curdling scream of rage.

“What… will you do with it, Dea? If Kreacher may know.” The old elf is trembling from some deep emotion, maybe for finally being able to fulfil his little master’s last orders.

His Sister looks at Hadrian, and then clearly makes a decision to tell him, “I will feed it to the First Waters, which will dissolve it, and it will no longer exist in this world or any other as it has forfeited its right to continue by trying to escape Death.”

Big fat tears fall from Kreacher’s eyes, but he only says, “Kreacher is grateful Dea, so grateful. Kreacher can die happy now.”

His Sister looks at him, and then, Looks at him, and says, “Soon. Soon you will move on. When you do, you will be at peace, as you have fulfilled your purpose in this life successfully.”

Kreacher hitches a breath, and bows low, saying, “Thank you Dea. Thank you.”

They leave soon after, though his Sister does collect all the books in the Black Library since all the Blacks are now dead, and Hadrian is technically the rightful owner of them anyway.

Kreacher even helps them by showing them some of the books hidden in other rooms for safe keeping.

Hel does ask him if he wants Kreacher to come serve him in their home, but after some thought, Hadrian decides the old elf has done enough, and tells her he thinks Kreacher would be happiest living out his last days in the Black House, depressing at it feels to Hadrian.

Remus agrees with him, saying Sirius always hated the elf who in turn hated him back, so maybe it was a good end for it.

Before leaving, Hadrian makes a point to release Kreacher and allow him to go or stay as he pleases. He doesn’t give him clothes as that would be cruel, but this way, Kreacher is not bound to stay in that molding house unless he chooses to do so. It is the only thanks Hadrian knows how to give, so he does that.

Three more soul shards remain somewhere but at least one more has been removed and for that Hadrian will always be grateful to both Kreacher and Regulus Black.

--

When he is 14, Dumbledore gets the bright idea to hold some kind of inter-school tournament.

Hadrian couldn’t care less, except the Goblet of Fire – some kind of Midgardian artifact – spits out Harry Potter’s name.

Considering he hasn’t even heard his other name in years, this is a bit of a surprise to Hadrian.

Dumbledore tries to call Harry Potter to come to the front of the Feasting Hall, but naturally, Hadrian doesn’t so much as twitch.

He can feel some kind of foreign Seiðr trying to bind him, but since he thinks of himself not as Harry Potter any more, it is weak at best.

That evening, Hel and him materialize by the Goblet which is still on Seiðr-fire. Hel looks at it for a moment, and then waves her hand over the flames and they freeze. She then yanks at a tendril inside it, and the part of Hadrian which is still Harry Potter feels a slight tugging sensation, then the Seiðr which tried to bind him breaks completely.

Whomever tried to bind him clearly did not know who he really was.

Hadrian and Hel leave the Goblet after unfreezing it, and Hadrian mostly forgets about it in the following months.

When the Tournament plays out, Hadrian is glad he has nothing to do with it. The dragon wouldn’t really have posed a danger to him, as he can speak to it, and explain what was happening. He doubts very much any nesting dragon would care for the deception anyway and would likely gladly evict the fake egg from their nest.

The same would have been the case with the Merpeople, since their Prince would have recognized the Mark on Hadrian from Death and would simply have stood out of his way, not wishing to antagonize death in any way.

The final challenge would also have been a breeze for him, but to his surprise, the Hogwarts Champion, a boy by the name of Cedric Diggory is murdered by an Avada from Barty Crouch Jr when his Polyjuice runs out and he is revealed to be Professor Mad-eye Moody.

Hadrian had felt something was wrong with the man as his Seiðr did not flow correctly whenever Hadrian looked at him, but he had assumed it was from having been cursed too much by dark Seiðr, and not because he was a Death Eater in disguise.

Considering no one knows he was Harry Potter, or even suspects that, he himself was never in any real danger, especially after removing his name from the Goblet, but sadly Cedric isn’t that lucky and tries to play hero by trying to stop Barty once the man changes in front of him.

Hel tells him later that Cedric was always destined to die that day, no matter what happened, so Hadrian doesn’t feel too bad since the Norns only gave the boy so long, but his girlfriend Cho Chang in rather inconsolable.

Barty is still apprehended by Snape who seemed to have suspected some kind of foul play. Minister Shaklebolt, after giving Barty a trial with Veritaserum, sentenced him to the Veil of Death, since the Dementors have indeed completed their sentences, and been relocated to Niflheim by Hel. Hadrian and Hel both give Anubis a bit of shit for forgetting about the poor creatures – his army of demons as the Midgardians called them way back when – but since he seems to feel a bit sheepish about it, and was generally considered quite a compassionate God of Death, he agrees to release them from their punishment as it’s been approximately 10,000 years since he sentenced them to this kind of existence anyway.

However, as they have been permanently changed and cannot simply reincarnate, Hel simply sighs, and agrees to allow them to live in her domain, stating some of the punishment areas in Niflheim needed some new tortures anyways, and making evil people relive their worst deeds maybe wasn’t such a bad idea. The Dementors are ecstatic. The Wizengamoth somewhat less so, but that they aren’t Hadrian’s problem.

It is also the first time Hadrian hears about the Veil, and makes sure to tell Hel about it.

After Barty’s execution, they shadow walk to the ministry that evening, and after some examination, Hel tells him it is a tear in spacetime, which she then closes. She informs him that it did indeed lead to Niflheim but that no mortal could ever have survived the journey, so it really was a death sentences.

She takes the frame with her as well, since it is made of Nifleheim wood and never should have been on Midgard anyway.

Hadrian can only shake his head in wonder at Wizard madness.

--

15 has Hadrian exploring Hogwarts out of sheer boredom, since his studies are going well, and Hel has started him on Seiðr crafting, so he wanders around Hogwarts in his spare time, hoping to figure out how the castles Seiðr were crafted in the first place.

He finds many secret passages – mostly because they light up to his eyes when they don’t for anyone else. He also finds the kitchens and any number of abandoned rooms.

He takes note that some paintings and armors have surveillance Seiðr linked to them, while others don’t, and he finds more snakes than he ever imagined possible scattered across every possible nook and cranny of Hogwarts.

He also finds the Room of Requirements.

Considering that area of the castle has one of the most unique Seiðrs he has seen thus far, he spends several weeks in front of the room trying to unravel how the Seiðr was cast.

It is while trying to figure this out one afternoon that he asks the room to show him its first room, or its original room, in the hopes that the Seiðr would be more straight-forward or maybe even show him their anchoring points.

He winds up in a large storage room full of unused junk collected over millennia. Several hours later, he isn’t any closer to unravelling the Seiðr that made the place, but he has also discovered a ton of interesting banned books, old paintings whose Seiðr has started to unravel and thus he could easily study how they were constructed as well as a bunch of old tapestries revealing old and likely long-dead genealogies on them.

He is about to leave when he suddenly picks up a very familiar sensation.

Something in the heap to his left is touching his Legilimency shields and trying to entice him.  

Curious, he gets closer to check it out, and finds a diadem with and obviously deteriorating-but-still-strong curse on it.

He is about to dismiss it when his eyes land on the center of the diadem and then he has to blink, and blink again because… no, surely not?

The Norns can’t favor him that much, can they?

Still, he picks up the diadem and sure enough, with physical contact, it immediately tries to make him put it on.

He swats the impulse away with practiced ease, and hardly daring to believe his luck, goes to bring it to his Sister, and the First Waters.

Apparently? The Norns do like him just that much.

The screaming from the diadem as he feeds the whole thing to the First Waters is as satisfying as the salted toffee he plans to give to the Norns that night.

--

When Hadrian is 16, his aura expands again. This time, he feels it before it happens, and has enough time to suck it into himself before it can affect any of his classmates.

It does have a strange side effect however, because it seems to be some kind of signal to all the creatures touched by Death in one way or another. Walking down Diagon at dusk, and past Knockturn, he notices that several known Vampires all bow to him when he walks past them.

The ghosts in Hogwarts, who have always been extremely respectful of him before, now also bow when he passes them. All of them listen to him and obey him without question. Even Peeves.

It would unnerve Hadrian but… it is also rather useful.

Namely, when the Bloody Baron suddenly glides into his dorm room, body all but shimmering with how much Seiðr he is using, Hadrian knows something is up.

“What is it?” Hadrian asks him because both Theo and Blaise are sitting up and paying attention.

“Master,” the Bloody Baron intones, and Hadrian can see his roommates’ eyebrows climb into their hairline, “The Headmaster has found the Stone. Its container has cursed him. He will die soon if it is not removed from him.”

Hadrian considers this, and then nods at the Baron. The ghost looks pleased that the information seems to be of use to him, and Hadrian makes a note to straighten the ghosts’ ties to the school.

Service must be rewarded after all.

He hops off his bed, and goes to find the Headmaster, wondering what the man has done this time.

Theo and Blaise fall in behind him like the two shadows he never asked for but got just the same.

When he reaches the Gargoyle, it considers stopping him, but he just stares at it, and it moves out of his way after only a moment’s hesitation.

He climbs the stairs, his two shadows close behind him, and knocks on the Headmaster’s door.

It is clear the man was not expecting him, by the hesitant “Enter” that he utters but Hadrian doesn’t let that bother him. Instead, he walks in, and goes straight to the desk which the Headmaster is sitting behind.

“Let me see it.” He demands, and to his credit, Albus doesn’t pretend he doesn’t know what Hadrian is speaking of. He glances over Hadrian’s shoulder, no doubt at Theo and Blaise, but then sighs and shows Hadrian his right hand.

It is a black and shriveled thing.

Hadrian can feel the death Seiðr on it.

The cursed Horcrux ring still adorning his middle finger.

“Fool. It was never meant for you. I warned you before, but you chose not to listen.” Hadrian says, and sighs. “Hold still. I will remove it and the Horcrux, but you will never be able to touch it again. It will kill you the next time you try.”

Albus looks like he wants to snatch his hand back but smartly doesn’t.

Hadrian carefully lays a finger on the stone – It is the Resurrection Stone, as he suspected and felt – and it immediately recognizes him and flashes the bonding Seiðr he has been expecting.

The ring holding it immediately melts into so much slag and falls with a small THUNK onto Albus’s desk, it’s cursed swallowed by the Stone.

The metal on the desk gains a black, oily quality and Hadrian knows the Horcrux is still inside it.

The Stone itself doesn’t fall, but hovers in mid-air, as if somehow glued to Hadrian’s finger which is still touching it.

“Move your hand. Don’t touch the metal on the desk.” Hadrian tells Albus, and he reluctantly does.

The Stone stays hovering, as if stuck to the tip of his finger.

Hadrian wraps his hand around it, and it glows for a moment, the binding having been completed.

This is the last item for him to find, and he supposes he should be grateful to Albus for finding it for him. He can feel his eyes flashing white, the First Waters inside him recognizing Death’s artifact, and Hadrian knows that he is fully of Niflheim now.

Nothing will separate him from his home again.

He smiles.

--

It takes a moment to draw out the Death curse in Albus’s hand.

Now that he has fulfilled Death’s task for him – to become one of Death’s Chosen for good – it is easy to remove the curse.

Death Seiðr no longer affects him in the way it does other people. The curse leaves Albus’s hand almost gratefully and is absorbed back into Hadrian’s Seiðr. It makes Hadrian feel like he ate a big meal somehow.

After it is absorbed, Hadrian flexes his hand, then focuses his still-mutating Seiðr, and using Death’s Seiðr which Hel has taught him years ago but which he wasn’t allowed to use till he was fully of Niflheim, reverses time on Albus’s hand until it looks the same as his left hand.

Before Albus can do more than suck in a pained breath – time reversal on flesh always hurts after all – Hadrian places his hand on the black metal slag still sitting on Albus’s desk, and using his newfound control as the Chosen, flexes his Death Seiðr.

The metal turns into a kind of oily liquid, and tries to escape, but Hadrian’s Seiðr has it now. Within a moment, the metal breaks down like it is being eaten by the world’s strongest acid and a black smoky thing leaves it with some haste, flying right past Hadrian’s shoulder and straight at Blaise.

Hadrian throws his Seiðr quickly, and the black thing hits a white dome, inches from Blaise’s nose.

Blaise’s eyes are wide, but to his credit, he never tried to move back or away. He just stands there, trusting Hadrian.

Hadrian sends him a grim little smile and grabs the smoky thing with the hand not holding the stone. Anyone else trying that, the shard would have surely possessed them, but Hadrian isn’t anyone else, especially anymore. He is Death’s Chosen, and the smoky thing is a piece of corrupted and tainted soul.

The thing is still wiggling and trying to get away when Hadrian stuffs it into the box his Sister gave him for just such an occasion.

It isn’t going anywhere except into the River to get recycled.

Albus’s eyes are very wide, when Hadrian looks back at him, and for the first time, there is a touch of fear in them.

“Next time you find one of these, call me.” He tells him.

“What… will you do with it?”

Hadrian considers him for a moment, and says, “Give it to my Sister. She has passed her Judgement, and this soul is not worthy of continuation. It will be recycled.”

Albus’s looks even more shocked, but after a moment, bows his head in acceptance.

It is the best solution and Albus knows it.

Not like he can stop Hadrian anyway.

On their way back from the Headmaster’s office, halfway to the dorms, Theo says, “Congratulations, Hadrian, for collecting all the Hallows.”

Blaise echoes him, both of them clearly meaning it.

Hadrian smiles.

He can’t wait to tell Hel.

Maybe she will make him a Tatumberry cake to celebrate.

He wonders if Death’s Chosen is allowed helpers.

---

Hel agrees with him that he definitely has the favor of at least one of the Norns.

Nothing else would explain why he had such an easy time uniting the Hallows. According to Hel, all the other godlings and chosen, always had to go through enormous efforts to achieve their God-set tasks. Hadrian meanwhile keeps having them deposited on his lap.

Hadrian tells her it is because the Norns likely never had anyone show them appreciation, only condemnation for their own cosmos-appointed tasks which they also likely had no choice in weaving.

Just the same, he goes and buys out all the salted toffee, and salted caramel candies in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley.

One could never be too sure with the Norns after all, it was best to err on the side of caution always.

That night, he makes one of the biggest offerings he has ever made to them.

The offerings vanish as they always have, but the warm wind which ruffles his hair stays for quite a while with him.

---

That summer, Hel focuses his education on the other Gods and Goddesses of Death.

She takes him to meet some of them, and Hadrian has a lot of mixed feelings about them, he has to admit.

For one, there are a lot of them.

Hadrian is at first confused how all the souls are divided, because now that he is thinking about it, Hel is a Norse goddess, so how did Hadrian, a Britton, wind up in Niflheim?

Hel chides him for only considering this now, years later, but concedes that he was still a child – and to her, still is – so it is rather understandable that he was distracted with other concerns till now.

She lets him know that there are trillions upon trillions of souls on Midgard alone – reminding him that time is not linear before he could protest that there aren’t that many people on earth – and that Time is really rather irrelevant to cosmic beings such as themselves.

As such, souls that ‘believe’ in a specific underworld, end up in the domain of the god or goddess that rule that underworld. While others, which don’t have one definitive belief but more a nebulous concept of death, end up divided into various domains, depending on who has more space and more servants to assist with assigning those souls for judgement, reincarnation, condemnation, eternal suffering etc., etc., etc.

This is also how Hel sometimes gets a pile of Christians who aren’t terribly devout per se, but still more or less expect to see hellfire and brimstone when they die.

Hadrian, having been a toddler when he first got hit hard enough to be sent to the realm of the dead, had thus come to her – though, likely due to the Norns – since she had room in her realm at the time, and because Hadrian himself had no real concept of what it meant to be dead or what to expect after dying since the Dursleys were non-religious.

Hel admits to him that some Death-realms are enormous – such as the Chinese ones for example, and they have veritable cities with hundreds of thousands of YeXunYou who’s job is to collect the dead, and bring them to the various Cheng Huang’s of their province, to be judged.

Hadrian asks her if they also look like ghost or spirits or what, but she tells him they look like men, except they all wear white masks with two horns on them, and no mouths, and chains wrapped around their forearms. Those chains, she tells him, are not decorative, as they are used to not only capture the reluctant dead, but also to capture any ‘impure mutations’ of Midgard – such as dark creatures born of war-death or rage-spirits created by unjust deaths and so on. She tells him that China, perhaps because they are a rather old Midgardian culture, has spawn some fascinating variations, and the nuances are quite interesting.

Then she gives him thirty dozen books to read, so he knows how to behave when they go visit their vast cities. She promises to introduce him to King Yan, the ruler of You Du – spirit city – just as soon as he learns how to bow and speak properly so they won’t take offence. She tells him that You Du is a fascinating place, since they have 136 different kinds of Hells, even though there really are only 18 but they are so meticulously divided that each level has different sub-levels and governing Gui Di deities…

Hadrian has to stop her there because… he thought the Norse were complicated. Clearly, he had no idea! He promises her he will read all the books, and agrees that they should probably wait to meet King Yan, since they seem to have a ton of rules, and he didn’t wish to offend anyone.

Hel agrees that the Chinese Midgardians pretty much always had a lot of rules.

Other Death-Gods and Goddesses are even weirder.

Kali coos at him. She seems to be very… maternal, for all that she wears children’s bodies as earrings, arms as her skirts and heads as a necklace. Still. Something about Hadrian appeals to her, maybe because he isn’t immediately drawn to her like seemingly everyone else seems to be. Hel tells him it is because he drank the First Waters when he was quite young, and because he was always rather stubborn, so mind-influencing Seiðr doesn’t do much to him. Still, she seems rather… moody, so he makes a note to be extra polite to her.

He met Anubis already of course, due to the whole Dementor Incident, but the guy actually isn’t half bad. He seems to mostly be helpful and not overly creepy so that’s something. Well, minus his love for mumification that is.

Mictlantecuhtil completely and totally creeps him out, and not in any endearing ways. The guy is frankly a sadist, and seems to take Hadrian’s reluctance to come any closer to him as a great compliment. Which Hadrian supposes is a good thing? But seriously. No. He clutches his Basilisk Dagger a little tighter and the crazy sadistic God actually smiles at him for it. Considering his Dagger is a God-Killer, Hadrian really thinks the bloke is not all-together-there upstairs.

Pana – the Inuit god who cares for the souls before they incarnate – totally agrees with him.

Ta’xet seems to like Mictlantecuhtil just fine, even if his counterpart Tia, really doesn’t. Small wonder since one is based on violent death and one peaceful. Hadrian rather likes that the Haida people differentiate Death in this way. Seems, to him at least, much more logical.

Hel reminds him, afterwards, that most civilizations divide death into various sub-categories, and as such, their representations can vastly vary. Each one has a place and a purpose, even when the purpose is simply to encompass all-things horrible.

That summer is definitely one of the more informative ones in any case.

--

With only one Horcrux left, and no clues left where to look, he leaves it be for now and focuses on his studies in Niflheim.

He is almost 17 and will be graduating in a few months. There has been no news about Voldie and his Death Eaters have mostly dispersed.

Theo tells him that his father’s Dark Mark has been steadily fading over the years and there was barely an outline left. Hadrian knows Theo would never normally share this with just anyone but Theo had grown to trust Hadrian and his Power and believes Hadrian has nothing to do with Voldie in any way.

Theo, has also been converting his father away from Death Eater thinking for years now, and having shown all obvious signs of joining Hadrian and his ilk, has been told by his father that as far as he knew, Voldie valued very few things while he had been in power. Mostly power itself. Using the Cruciatus and Avada liberally. And well, his snake Nagini.

Theo mentions this in passing one evening, not thinking much about it, and not feeling the need to hide this information from his two closest friends, it seems.

But it does make Hadrian pause and think. Seeing the look on his face, Theo asked him what he is thinking.

“You don’t happen to know where Nagini might be right now, do you?” Hadrian thinks to ask, meanwhile contemplating if Voldie really is crazy or stupid enough to put a Horcrux deliberately into a living host.

Theo looks confused, but admits that Nagini has been living on their lands since the Dark Lord’s fall, and has mostly gotten old and lazy in the last few years.

Scarcely daring to believe it, Hadrian suggests to Theo, to suggest to his father, that possibly killing Nagini might free him permanently of the mark on his arm.

Theo’s eyes get very large at that suggestion but he immediately goes to contact his father vis a two-way communication mirror.

His father is understandably skeptical, but curiosity – and likely desire for freedom – seems to overrule his skepticism, and he promises to try.

Hadrian then thinks to tell Theo before he can hang up to not use Avada but Fiendfyre, least the blasted shard gets away again or tries to possess Theo’s dad.

Hadrian spends a good 20 minutes debating if Mr. Nott would actually go through with it, since he was one of Voldie’s earliest Fateful, but Hadrian has to gamble that shattered-soul Voldie was obviously crazy and violent, even towards his most devout.

A few hours later, a very shaken Mr. Nott calls Theo back, and after spending 10 minutes cursing, finally thinks to inform Theo that yes, his Dark Mark is finally completely gone, and How did Theo know??

Theo wisely hangs up before he has to answer saying his roommates are back, but Hadrian knows his friend is shaken to the core also.

Tom Voldie is finally gone.

For good this time.

---

Graduating is rather anticlimactic, except how Hel comes to the graduation, which absolutely TERRIFIES every single person – except Theo and Blaise – at the graduation ceremony.

There is so much crying and screaming and bowing and whimpering that it is likely and forevermore counted as the Most Dramatic Graduation in the history of Hogwarts.

That might have been the presence of Hel.

Or maybe Fenrir in his full size.

Jor at least came as a human, even if he has a forked tongue and Dumbledore keeps muttering about possible Voldie incarnations.

Or maybe it is the Three Ladies who came – one young, one motherly, and one old – and who make the magic of Hogwarts practically tremble.

Still. Hadrian graduates. That is what matters.

Blaise and Theo still badger him into introducing them. Millicent politely requests an autograph in her book – Deities of Old and New, and Hermione just asks if there are librarians in the Underworld, to which Hel decided to grant her the mark of Scholar for when she does die.

Hermione’s parents are rather horrified but Hermione herself seems rather pleased.

All in all, Hel decides a proper Feast is in order, and that is also how Hogwarts has it’s first 10-day-graduation-celebration.

Hadrian decided maybe a proper shrine in the Feasting Hall to all the Gods might also be a good idea, since he suspects a revival of the worship of Old Gods is about to sweep across the Wizarding World after tonight.

Still.

Hadrian gradates.

Now, his new life can finally begin.

The End.