Son of the Storm

Changes

Harry, rather belatedly, finally filled Ron and Hermione in on the full events of his trip to Asgard, then spent most of the rest of the morning answering questions about it.

For instance, yes, his uncle had given him superstrength. No, he didn't still have it. And bloody hell, Ron, of course he didn't have a bloody harem. What would he do with it, anyway?

"I'd have a few ideas," Ron had said, tone wistful. Hermione had given him an icy glare and then launched into a diatribe about how harems were symptoms of the overall culture of objectification and subjugation of women by patriarchal society throughout the ages, followed by an unabridged history of feminism. Ron looked half defensive, half completely at sea.

Harry, meanwhile, tuned her out. While he understood the gist of what she was saying, and agreed very strongly with it, that didn't mean he particularly felt the need to listen to it. He'd already got the full history when he'd asked the room at large in Avengers Tower. Darcy, revealing her carefully hidden depths, had sat him down and explained it to him.

The explanation had been concise, interesting and most importantly, easily understandable to a complete beginner such as Harry, who felt that he was very much in favour of feminism, if only because he regarded discrimination as both evil and utterly bemusing. He simply didn't understand it. When he'd voiced this thought to Darcy, she'd given him a sad smile and ruffled his hair. "You don't understand it because you're a rare kind of innocent, kid," she'd said. "People have always hated other people because they're different. Because they're frightened. And I'm willing to bet that you know that part as well as anyone."

"I've come across it," Harry had acknowledged, remembering the Dursleys. He shook his head. "But it's so stupid!"

"Preaching to the choir, kid. Preaching to the choir," Darcy had sighed.

Harry had then asked where that phrase came from and they'd moved on to less depressing topics of conversation. Afterwards, he'd suggested that she go into teaching. While she'd turned this idea down flat (her exact words were, "Oh, hell no. I don't do well with kids, you excepted.") Harry thought that having Darcy for a teacher would be cool. Though there was the risk that she'd taser students instead of giving them detentions. Which, admittedly, could be considered a bonus.

Darcy was much like Fandral. She only looked shallow. And taking her at face value was a very bad mistake.

So Harry therefore felt quite justified in tuning Hermione out. Her harangue – the diatribe had stepped up several gears and Ron was now looking rather browbeaten. Harry inwardly debated rescuing him, then decided against it. He valued his skin – was aimed at Ron, after all. That said, it had acquired an audience and Harry could have sworn he heard a female voice say, in a tone that might or might not have been serious, 'Preach it, sister!'

Freki and Geri, on the other hand, seemed to be quite interested for whatever reason. Harry felt that it was perhaps best not to speculate.

"Um… Hermione?"

Harry glanced to his left and saw Ron's little sister, Ginny, hovering awkwardly. "Hi Ginny," he said, giving her a friendly smile.

Ginny went red, and Harry inwardly sighed. So, she still had a crush on him. He thought she'd got over that.

"Hi," she managed.

"How are you?"

"Fine. Um… and you?"

"Not bad."

There was a long, awkward silence. "It's a nice day," Ginny ventured.

Harry looked up at Hogwarts' famous ceiling. It was raining. A lightning bolt flashed across the sky. Clearly his father was either in a bad mood, or not paying attention to the weather. Or, Harry supposed, he could be showing off.