The letter lay on his nightstand, a piece of parchment that seemed both ordinary and impossibly potent. For the first time since he had reclaimed his memories, Loki felt disarmed. Magic, as he knew it, was an extension of his will, a raw force he could command and shape effortlessly. There were no wands, no cauldrons, no hierarchy or rituals. This letter, with its list of supplies and its cryptic words, was a riddle he couldn't solve. He felt small, and the discomfort of this vulnerability was something he was ashamed to admit even to himself.
Then, on a rainy afternoon, he saw a man arrive at the orphanage. He was tall and thin, dressed in a sweeping violet robe and a pointed hat. A long white beard stretched down his chest, and he wore half-moon spectacles that gave his eyes a mischievous glint. To a mortal, he might have looked ridiculous, but Loki could feel the power radiating from him, an ancient magic that smelled of wisdom and earth. A slow, calculating smile spread across his face, a smile that had nothing to do with the boy from the orphanage. The game was about to begin.
The man introduced himself as Professor Dumbledore. The name immediately struck a chord in Loki's mind. It was a name that smelled of magic, wisdom, and secrets. Dumbledore sat in the orphanage parlor and looked at Loki, not with the pity adults reserved for orphans, but with a palpable curiosity. His eyes twinkled with a malicious glint, and Loki felt a shiver down his spine. This was the first time he had met a worthy opponent.
"Loki Laufeyson," Dumbledore said in a soft voice that sounded like a crackling fire. "We have a letter for you."
Loki raised an eyebrow, the gesture of a god. "I already have one," he said. "It's under my mattress. It's fine. I'm just having a little trouble understanding what it is." He played the part of the intelligent but confused child, one who was not yet privy to the truth.
Dumbledore smiled. It was a smile that seemed to know more than it let on. "Ah, I see. I apologize; my dear friends sometimes have a habit of ensuring their messages are delivered. I am a teacher at Hogwarts, the school where you have been accepted."
Loki lowered his head, a mask of feigned confusion. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand. Hogwarts? The school of magic?" The last sentence was spoken with a tone of suspicion and disbelief, a lie that had the appearance of truth. He was a master of disguise, and this role was one of his favorites.
Dumbledore continued. "Yes, a school of magic. As you may have noticed, you are... different. You have a certain power within you. Have you ever done something you couldn't explain?"
Loki nodded. "Once, a spoon disappeared. And another time, the keys to the warehouse. I never knew how." He let a silence hang in the air, waiting for the professor to fill in the blanks. This was the core of his game: letting others reveal their cards while he kept all of his close to his chest.
Dumbledore laughed, a gentle and reassuring sound. "That's magic, Loki. That's the magic inside of you. You are a wizard. A Muggle-born wizard, in fact. That means your parents were not wizards." He let the sentence hang. Loki did not respond. He wasn't going to tell him about Laufey, the king of the Frost Giants, or his own heritage as a foundling left to die in the cold. He played the part of the lonely orphan, eager for information.
He then pulled out his wand. It was a simple piece of yew wood, but at his command, a small, shimmering bird of light appeared. The bird, made of light and dust, flew in circles above their heads, the sound of an unknown melody filling the room. Dumbledore looked at Loki, his eyes twinkling, and said: "The wand is only a channel, Loki. The power is in you. As you can see, magic can be used to create beauty. But it can also be used to create chaos." The bird disappeared, leaving golden dust to fall on the table.
Dumbledore continued. He explained Hogwarts, the list of supplies, and the need to go to Diagon Alley. He pulled out a small pouch and placed it on the table, the sound of metal echoing in the silence. Loki looked at the pouch. It was gold. The color of his home, of his past life. He looked at it with a feeling that was a mixture of nostalgia and disgust. He was a prince who now had to receive alms from a man disguised as a harmless old man. It was a humiliation. But he took it without a word.
"These are Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts," Dumbledore explained. "The currency of the wizarding world. It is for your school supplies. And it's a bit of a rainy day fund. Make good use of it." He smiled, and his twinkling eyes looked at Loki, as if he knew he was judging the god he thought was a wizard. Loki felt his heart clench. He didn't like being the object of judgment. But he played his part, that of a child who found it hard to believe in his luck.
Dumbledore then extended his hand to Loki, a gesture of trust. "It's time for you to see the world that awaits you," he said softly. The professor took his hand, and a whirlwind suddenly enveloped Loki, an unpleasant sensation of nausea and pressure, as if he were being sucked into a black hole. It was Apparition. The world blurred into a wash of colors and sounds, and in an instant, they were standing in front of a run-down brick pub with broken windows. A small sign above the door read: The Leaky Cauldron.
Loki looked around. They were in a dark alley, in a city he had never seen. He released Dumbledore's hand, his face once again a mask of impassivity. The professor smiled, a glint in his eyes. He tapped a brick wall behind the pub with his wand. The bricks began to twist and turn, opening to reveal a cobbled street. Behind the door, there was a world he could never have imagined. Loki saw wizards, witches, robes, wands. He saw a world entirely different from his own, yet one that contained magic. The air was filled with the smells of potions and old books. There were shops that sold cauldrons, shops that sold owls, shops that sold jokes. He heard laughter, joyful shouts, and the sound of cheerful conversations. The wizarding world was vibrant, chaotic, and full of life. It was his new home. A home he would soon conquer.