Tricksters and Gods

Chapter 1

Loki looked around him without any mirth. He had failed to destroy those meddlesome humans that his brother so loved, and he had failed to keep the Tesseract. He had little doubt his crimes would earn imprisonment...Odin could never bear to lose his youngest son.

"Loki, since you show no remorse towards your actions against the humans or your family, I sentence you to banishment until you learn to repent for your crimes. You shall not be welcomed on Asgard, or any worlds known until your majority, or your memories are restored to you. Your magic shall be bound to mortal limits, and your status as Prince of Asgard withheld until you are fit to return among us," said Odin, slamming his staff onto the floor.

He used a little too much energy, and ended up turning Loki into an infant child in 1978...in Britain.

~

Harry James Potter was not your average child. For one thing, he was able to create doubles of himself the fourth time he burned his hand cooking his 'family' a meal. After that he tended to roam around the neighborhoods to avoid his own home.

For another he was a wizard. Not just any wizard though, but the Boy-Who-Lived.

And he hated that nickname.

Harry had long since made a point that anyone who seeks to use that damnable nickname would have to pay a fine of three knuts. The goblins, when told of his plan to make that name one that they hated as much as he did, laughed openly at the trick.

Part of the reason why the Weasley family were 'in the red' so to speak, was because of that stunt when he was seven. No one had told them that the goblins automatically deducted the fine from anyone not cleared to use it by Harry himself.

When he was twelve, Harry set a Fidelius Charm around the damn nickname once he found it. Now the only ones who could talk about it were those who were in the know by the secret keeper...in this case, Harry.

He loved watching them try to talk about him behind his back when they couldn't utter certain words or phrases. The people were such sheep that they didn't even realize what he had done.

At age fifteen, Harry had enough of their foolishness. He was ready to leave the magical world of Britain at any time, should he be given reason to do so.

He looked past the identical copies of Privet Drive and sneered. He had high hopes to be made prefect this year over Draco, considering it was his fault Draco was disliked by their housemates.

The little fool didn't even realize he was being played by Harry the entire time, and neither did that pig Ronald.

Harry had been locked inside his room yet again, though unknown to Petunia and Vernon he had long since worked out a way out of the room itself by popping the bolts holding the hinges in and replacing them with convincing fakes that would open when he wanted a few days into his 'new' room when he first got his letter.

He would have starved very quickly if he hadn't thought of that trick, though the multiple locks he later had to jam in such a way that he could pop them back into place made it harder. Harry had always been good at manipulating locks and doors. Hedwig, his beloved companion, hooted in boredom and irritation. She hated cages far more than he did, and they had shared many an evening just flying around Hogwarts.

While he was terrified of lightning, and rightly so after an incident when his cousin had locked him out when he was seven and he had been struck not once, but twice, flying was another matter.

Harry peered across the street where the wizard had fallen asleep and smirked. He had noticed those foolish watchers ever since the second day, and had noted an increase of Ms. Figg showing up far too often to ask him for tea.