Chapter 1: Meet Harry Anthony Evans
Chapter Text
Full Timeline
Tony Stark
- Born: 5/29/1975
- Graduate MIT: 1992 (age 17)
- Visiting the UK: Sept-Oct 1997 (age 22)
- Parents died: Oct 1997 (age 22)
- Takes over SI: December 1997 (age 22)
- Afghanistan Capture/Iron Man #1: Feb-Apr 2009 (age 34)
- Iron Man#2: May 2010 (age 34-35)
- Avengers #1 (NY): May 2012 (age 37)
- Current: July 2013 (age 38)
Lily Potter
- Born: 1978
- Left Hogwarts: 1996 (age 18)
- Met TS: Oct 1997 (age 19)
- Has Harry: 7/31/1998 (age 20)
- Marry James: Dec/Jan 1998/1999
- Death: 10/31/1999
Harry Evans
- Born: 7/31/1998
- Mother died: 10/31/1999
- Dursleys: 11/1/1999-7/2013
- Hogwarts years:
- First: 2009-2010 (11)
- Second: 2010-2011 (12)
- Third: 2011-2012 (13)
- Fourth: 2012-2013 (14)
Sirius Black never planned on returning to his ancestral home, 12 Grimmauld Place, when he ran away at only sixteen years old. He moved in with the Potters on that very night and never once looked back or regretted his decision to leave his toxic family, with their prejudiced beliefs, behind him. Sure, over the years he had thought about them more often than he would have liked. After all, it was hard not to when he saw some portion of his extended family tree as he dueled against the Death Eaters or heard his insane cousin ranting down the halls of Azkaban. But he never regretted upholding his beliefs against them and he never intended on returning to any part of his former life.
As he walked into the house for the first time in almost two decades, the irony of his situation wasn't lost on him. Once again, he would be a prisoner in the home; although this time, he at least deserved it. Anyone who betrayed their friends, as he once had, deserved this imprisonment.
Sirius ignored the stinging remnants of dark magic whirling around him as he made his way up the rickety old stairs on his way to his old bedroom. This particular spell threatened harm to anyone who entered the premises with malicious intentions. It would also be the first enchantment, out of many, that Sirius suggested Moody remove to use the home as "Headquarters". They certainly would have their hands, and wands, busy with cleaning out the dangerous curses embedded deep inside its structure. No one wanted to live in a house constantly trying to curse them, and according to his former family's "values", every single person who entered the next few years would qualify as having "malicious intent".
Nothing, however, could be done about the permanent sticking charm on his mother's portrait over the stairway, where she was currently screaming insults at him as he passed by it. It was no secret how much she despised him on the day he ran away, and how she continued to despise him until her death. Now, her insults did not affect him as much as one might think. Not only had he given up trying to win her approval long ago, but the constant reminder of failing his best friends thirteen years ago hurt him far more than anything she could say to him. Still, before making the last turn to his bedroom, he conjured a curtain to cover the old hag and ordered Kreacher not to remove it. Despite his own growth regarding his mother, he doubted the Order members wanted to hear Walburga's relentless venom throughout the day.
When he had offered Albus his home to use as the Order of the Phoenix's Headquarters, it had seemed like a solid, logical idea. As an escaped convict with a lucrative reward on his head — dead or alive — he couldn't exactly go out to rally new supporters like Hagrid and Remus were currently out doing, he couldn't watch over Harry at Privet Drive like the rotating guards assigned this duty throughout the summer, and he couldn't gather intel across enemy lines like Snape; even though Sirius didn't trust the man any further than he could throw him. No, Sirius could only remove the old wards on Grimmauld Place and provide his approval — as the sole heir of the Black Estate — for Albus to set a new Fidelius Charm around it. So, outside of playing host to whatever group of members who happened to be staying at Headquarters over the summer, Sirius's existence served no meaningful purpose; at least until Albus allowed Harry to arrive.
Harry. Sirius absolutely hated how Albus forced his Godson to return to his muggle relatives, particularly this summer. Sirius couldn't care for Harry while was hiding last year — even though the teen would have gladly joined him in the Hogsmeade cave — but staying at Grimmauld Place changed that, and after the Triwizard Tournament, Sirius begged Albus to let Harry stay at "Headquarters" right from the start. Harry had witnessed his classmate's murder, saw the dark wizard responsible for his parent's death resurrected, was tortured, and then barely made it out of a duel against the evil bastard. The least they could do was to allow him to stay in a place where he was surrounded by people who cared about him. But no. For reasons Albus refused to reveal, Harry needed to stay with his Aunt, at least at first. It made no difference how many ways Sirius demanded, going as far as threatening to revoke the use of Grimmauld Place, the older wizard wouldn't reconsider.
Sirius's rage came to a halt as he approached his locked bedroom door, forcing him to put Harry's injustices on hold in order to confront whatever mess lay beyond the solid wood door. Had his mother burned everything in the room, as she had to his face on the family tapestry, and he would walk in to see piles of ash scattered around it? Perhaps she rearranged the room to make space to store their growing collection of dark artifacts? It felt like just the spiteful, yet ironic, thing she'd do as soon as her disgrace of a son abandoned their family values. He briefly considered simply vanishing whatever was inside as soon as he entered, not even looking at anything that might be in there before sending it all out to the rubbish. A fresh start in the home without having to confront his past might be exactly what he needed.
In the end, after shifting his weight between his feet — as if moving would cure all of his troubles —in the dreary corridor for far too long, he gathered up his Gryffindor courage and opened the door. His mother would not control him any longer.
The bedroom was exactly as he remembered it, which genuinely caught him by surprise. The bed on the far wall remained half made and the top drawer to his dresser clumsily closed, leaving one side sticking out as if he had woken up there that morning and gotten dressed in a hurry. All of his Gryffindor banners, quidditch pictures, and posters of muggle motorcycles and ladies still hung on the walls throughout the room — whether his parents could not remove his own sticking charm or just didn't see them, he'd never know; everyone who could tell him was dead. The bed linens, duvet, and tassels were all covered with a thick layer of dust, which also settled into the exquisite mahogany wood of the closet, bedside table, and bookcases. As familiar as the room should have felt given its untouched state, walking into it felt as foreign to him as walking through the front door had been less than an hour ago. Further proof of how this place was never his home.
For reasons Sirius would later attribute to Lily's remarkable Charms talent, an old envelope leaning against a book on his bedside table immediately caught Sirius's attention. Covered in slightly less dust than everything else in the room, Sirius hesitated touching it, fearing it was Regulus who had left for him. Who else would have risked Walburga's wrath by entering the forbidden bedroom? Tapping his fingers lightly on his leg, Sirius debated if he had the strength to read his brother's last thoughts about him. But what if the letter contained Regulus's remorse for joining the Death Eaters, and he requested to follow Sirius instead? What if it didn't? Sirius liked to believe that his younger brother eventually regretted his life choices, so by opening this letter he could immediately shatter the illusion he had created about his brother's fate.
For better or worse, any hope he had of reading Regulus's final words vanished as soon as Sirius wiped the dust off the front of the envelope and saw his name written not in Reg's blocked scribbles but in Lily's elegant script as if she had handwritten each of the letters with the utmost warmth and affection.
His hands moved almost on their own to break Lily's red monogram wax seal, and pulled out more pieces of yellowed parchment than should have logically fit in an envelope of this size; another demonstration of Lily's magical abilities. Sirius didn't want to read it — in fear that Lily somehow knew from the afterlife how deep he'd failed her son — but he owed James and Lily a debt he could never repay in his lifetime, and he deserved Lily's words, no matter how harsh they were.
Dear Sirius,
It breaks my heart to know that if you're reading this it means James and I are gone. If you're reading this, it should also mean that Harry, my precious baby boy, is now in your care. You shouldn't have any trouble transferring custody of Harry or accessing the Potter vaults and properties. We've left all the necessary legal papers in a red file in our vault. This folder also contains Harry's original birth certificate, which brings me to the real reason I am writing this letter to you. You see, James is not Harry's biological father, and Harry's real name is Harry Anthony Evans.
Knowing you, the first part won't be a complete shock. I know you've had your doubts about how James and I went from close (almost best) friends to pregnant with Harry seemingly out of nowhere, but I also want you to know that James is Harry's father in every way besides blood. Please never doubt his love for Harry and my love for James, even if I had to grow into that love. James is truly our hero and I would not have married him unless I loved him with all of my heart.
Why am I telling you this? Apart from the fact that you'll see Harry's birth certificate and question what you're reading, we never planned on keeping it a secret from anyone, definitely not from Harry. After the war, James wants to officially adopt Harry, making him the Harry Potter you were all first introduced to. If you're reading this, though, it means we've died in the war with no one knowing the truth and I cannot let Harry's past simply disappear. He deserves to know where he came from and the decisions I made to keep him safe.
The story begins in early October 1997, on the night we learned that the Death Eaters were on their way to attack the muggle music festival. Do you remember it? I'm pretty sure we all thought we were going to die at some point during the night and we were equally surprised by our victory. The muggles were left none-the-wiser, and we all disapparated to London to celebrate. Or, at least you, James, Peter, Remus, Frank and Alice, and Marlene went to celebrate without me because I turned down the invitation. I think I said I was tired from the battle and was heading home to sleep.
I lied. I wasn't tired, but I also didn't feel like celebrating either, so I wandered around London until I found this small, rundown pub… the perfect place where I could do whatever I needed to do to forget that I had just seen Severus at the other end of my wand. I'm sure it wasn't the first time Severus and I had fought against each other at a raid, but with their stupid masks, I never had to think about it. That night I was putting my all into these spells, wanting to hurt or kill the person across from me when his mask slipped just enough for me to recognize him. It startled me for a second, and suddenly I realized he had never used a single offensive spell on me during our duel. He was only defending himself against me, obviously not wanting to actually harm me. I know you hate him, so you can't understand, but Imagine if, one day, James agreed with your family's morals and you now had to fight him. It'd be easier to do without seeing his face.
So there I was at the pub, three or four drinks in, doing my best to ignore everyone around me when a man sat down in the chair next to me. I'm sure he was attempting to pick me up, except after the night I had, that was the last thing on my mind. Only he didn't leave. This man was arrogant in a way that would have made James seem humble in his early Hogwarts years, yet somehow we ended up talking at the bar until it closed. Several times throughout the night, he tried to persuade me to go back to his hotel with him. Of course, I said no (really, Sirius, you think I'd do that?!) and he walked me "home" instead… or to a house I randomly chose so I could safely disapparate. He introduced himself to me as Anthony Rhodes, a name I would much later discover was fake. He was an American muggle in London taking some type of advanced science class. I got the feeling it bored him out of his mind. Honestly, I can't remember what we talked about all night. He did a lot of rambling about projects and things I had no hope of following, but he said all of it with a passion I had never seen in a person before. I guess that's why two or three days later, I found myself back at the bar searching for him. We met up there almost every night for the next two weeks. Each night he had a following of women watching and waiting for him, and each night he sat at my table listening to me as if nothing else mattered. And each night he walked me "home".
The last night I saw him was at the end of October. I had spent the day healing Order members after the attack at Bristol . Frank had nearly died , and I seriously contemplated skipping the pub altogether, not in the mood for company. At the last minute, though, I decided Anthony's energy and enthusiasm would help to turn my somber day around. And he did. Somehow, he was more boisterous than ever, and we both drank more than we usually did. Looking back, I should have known something wasn't right, or maybe I did and simply didn't care. I followed him back to his hotel room after the last call. I'll spare you the more intimate details of what happened. All you need to know is that it was consensual on both sides, and he was gone by the time I woke up the next morning. I'd never felt so ashamed leaving the hotel alone. It felt like once he had gotten exactly what he had wanted from day one, he had no other "use" for me. He never showed up at the bar again, and a week or so later I stopped going back too. Anthony was long gone.
After Anthony disappeared, James started visiting my flat more often. I think he picked up on me feeling down about it all, and what began as a close friend being there for another evolved into casual dating. We hung out at my place, went sightseeing around London, and had a dinner date here or there.
I discovered I was pregnant with Harry in the middle of December. Deep down, I think I knew earlier and hoped that if I ignored it, it might be some sort of dream. I'm embarrassed to say that now. Harry is my world. I couldn't imagine my life without him, or James, and I'd give up anything to keep him safe.
I told James in mid-January. He found me crying on my bedroom floor surrounded by pieces of a torn-up muggle magazine. I'm going to blame my outburst on pregnancy hormones and feeling alone. See, as I was leaving my first healer appointment at St Mungo's, feeling excited for the first time since the pregnancy potion turned pink, I noticed Anthony's face plastered on the front page of a muggle magazine on one of those street stands. I'll never forget the headline, "Tony Stark takes the reign at 22", with an article inside about him taking over his family company — a company successful for making some of the muggle world's most dangerous weapons. I realized then that my child could be in danger, both from You-Know-Who )for being born to a muggleborn and a muggle), and from the American muggle world for having a father as well-known as Tony Stark. The more I learned about Tony Stark, a man best known as the genius playboy with an unhealthy history with alcohol, sex, and drugs, the worse my situation became.
Claiming Harry as James's son was originally James's idea. Once I shared my concerns about the baby's biological father, he explained how, as a prominent pureblooded family, if the baby were a Potter it would balance my muggleborn status while preventing anyone from connecting him to the Stark legacy. Not wanting to use James in the same way I felt used by Anthony, I didn't agree right away. However, as the weeks passed, James was always there for me and my baby. On days (and nights) when the morning sickness became unbearable, he brought me potions. He accompanied me to almost every healer appointment (missing at least one Order raid for it) and bought the first baby gift: the little red blanket I used to bring Harry home from St. Mungo's. So, when Alice took me aside one day to ask if I was pregnant (guessing me to be about as far along as she), telling her James was the father just felt right. James offered me the greatest gift — a way to keep my child safe, which became more desperately needed as the power of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named grew.
The rest of the story is history. We announced Harry as James's son, Harry was born, and six months later James and I got married in a wedding filled with genuine love and gratitude for each other and our small, unorthodox family. I didn't leave Hogwarts ever thinking I'd marry James Potter, but I would do it all again… even as we prepare to go into hiding for reasons we don't exactly understand… and I hope he feels the same way.
I officially used Anthony as Harry's middle name. Call it hormones again, but considering I didn't list a father on his birth certificate, it seemed wrong not to give him some connection to his biological father. As for his last name, I didn't want to use Stark (that defeated the entire purpose of leaving Tony out of it) so I went with Evans. This way if James changed his mind, he was legally free to go. I didn't want him to feel trapped. Little did I know he was already planning to propose to me later in the year and then adopt Harry.
So, there it is. It's everything I know leading up to this moment. Please don't think ill of me (remember, I am dead after all), and don't take it out on Harry. I ask that you tell him as soon as you believe he's ready and will be safe. I don't know what kind of man Tony Stark may turn into over the years, if he could ever be someone Harry could trust, but if Harry wants to find him someday, please let him.
And, thank you, Sirius, for loving and caring for our boy when we can't be there for him. I know you'll give Harry the life he deserves.
~Lily
Sirius would never deny the stream of tears pouring down his cheeks as he sat in a heap on the floor beside his bed rereading the last sentences of Lily's astonishing letter. He had not been there for Harry. Not only had he not been there to provide the toddler the love he deserved, but he hadn't been there because he had gotten himself locked away in Azkaban for allowing his own grief and rage to take control of him on the night Harry's parents — or rather his mother and step-father — were murdered. He had failed them. He had failed them all.
Sirius rested his head on his knees, recalling the night of the muggle music festival and the absolute bloodbath it had been for the Death Eaters. Their group of friends — minus Lily — had gone to the Hog's Head Inn to celebrate and had gotten so drunk while comparing dueling stories and battle wounds they all had to spend the night there. Nobody mentioned anything about Lily's absence and Sirius thought nothing unusual about her not being present. As a healer-in-training, she often opted for an early night over partying with the others.
Despite Lily's assumption of Sirius's potential reaction — his suspicion of her throughout her pregnancy — learning Harry had a different father came as a complete shock to him. After hearing the rumor about Lily's pregnancy, he remembered interrogating James about why he hadn't told Sirius about getting together with Lily Evans. The last any of them had heard, Lily and James's single date at the end of Sixth Year had been a spectacular failure, and they eventually decided they made better friends than lovers. Since then, the two had been practically inseparable; James had almost seamlessly replaced Snape in Lily's life. Sirius should have known something odd was going on surrounding Lily's pregnancy when James refused to give him any information on the subject. Back then, he assumed getting pregnant so quickly had embarrassed James and he didn't want to spotlight the taboo subject. Sirius had stopped badgering him about it and he fell in love with his Godson from the moment he laid on the next-generation Marauder.
I ask that you tell him as soon as you believe he's ready and will be safe.
His eyes flickered up to the last request Lily asked of him. Lily had trusted Sirius — someone hardly connected to her son — to give Harry a family if she and James died in the war, and she also trusted him to decide when Harry should learn that his father wasn't the man who died protecting him, but a man who fled from his mother. Except Lily didn't know what Harry had been through in the years since her letter, and she wasn't here to witness how much this information would hurt Harry inside. Like it or not, Harry's identity as James Potter's son was already set and to pull it away from him… well, Sirius hated to imagine what it might do to him, especially after such a rough year for the teen.
So, Sirius made a plan. Sitting on his old bedroom floor, he vowed to finally keep his promise to protect Harry — even if it meant going against Lily's last wish — by taking this information to his grave. However, the best-laid plans sometimes failed and, just as Sirius had never planned on returning to Grimmauld Place, Sirius would abandon his plan less than a fortnight later for the exact same reason Lily started all of this: to protect Harry.
Chapter 2: The Concerned Spy
Chapter Text
If anyone were to ask Severus Snape what the worst part of life as an Order of the Phoenix spay was, they would never guess his answer since it wasn't what most people expected: risking his life every single time he stood in front of one of the most powerful wizards by purposefully lying to him. It also wouldn't be the substantial loss of personal time and privacy caused by having to serve two "masters" simultaneously; bouncing from one side to the other without first taking care of his own needs. And it wouldn't be his inability to concentrate on any of the other half-dozen professional projects he'd prefer to work on than teaching uninspired, mediocre students year after year.
No. For Severus, the worst part of being a spy, more than any of the tedious life-threatening tasks, was Order meetings. Sitting through updates that rarely pertained to him, and then being interrogated by his supposed colleagues on the accuracy or insufficiency of his own update always threatened to send him into a cursing rage by the end. During the first war, he was fortunate that his identity had been classified as "need to know" information — meaning he met with as few people as possible — and therefore he wasn't required to attend the majority of the meetings. But the few meetings he had attended? He despised every single second of them.
So, while being revealed as a spy during the first trials might have saved him from a life in Azkaban, it also meant he was no longer excused from the meetings. In the end, he had traded one source of hell for another.
In Severus's extremely biased opinion, Albus's choice of the Black Estate as their Headquarters added insult to injury. Such thick layers of dust coated every surface, he doubted a simple scourgify would be close enough to clean it, and the levels of ancient dark magic made even Severus shudder as he walked through the corridors. If Albus wanted to constantly remind the members of the forces they were battling against, he surely succeeded. On the other hand, anyone who stayed for more than a day or two risked losing their minds, and aside from Black's requirement to stay in the house, Severus had heard the Weasleys were planning to spend the rest of the summer here, inevitably bringing Granger and Potter with them.
As if they need to muddle their feeble brains any more than they already are.
Those reasons, combined with crossing paths with Sirius Black during the meetings, were enough to make him purposefully avoid Headquarters. Yet today's meeting was unavoidable because, by some sick twist of fate, Severus was the one who called it. The information the Dark Lord had given him at the unusual summons he'd just left simply could not wait until their next scheduled meeting. Plus, loathe as he was to admit it, Severus needed at least Molly Weasley, if not Sirius, in attendance to support his proposed reaction. While he trusted Albus with his life, quite literally in many events, his handling in the aftermath of the Triwizard Tournament put Severus on edge, and he refused to take any needless risk, especially when Potter's life was at stake.
For Lily.
The Order always met in the dining room of Grimmauld Place. What started as daily meetings as soon as let out had dwindled down to weekly check-ins. The last meeting was three days ago, highlighting the urgency of this one. If this had been a regular meeting, Severus would have been met by dishes floating heading to a stock pot where Molly Weasley would fill the bowls of stew and place buttered slices of freshly baked bread on them before sending them off to the table, on the way to feed a group one might call rebels. More often than not, as of late, the meal served at the Order meetings was the only freshly made meal Severus got. He would never acknowledge that fact to anyone who attended despite his own suspicions that this was also the case for most of the other members.
No food soared through the air tonight, though, and the kitchen was calm; something Severus had never seen before, as he was usually the last to arrive for a meeting, not the first. Three tea kettles sat alone on the stove. Molly Weasley was standing with her back to Severus, placing teacups and saucers at each table setting. Her modest dressing gown drew attention to the past midnight hour of the sudden meeting; leave it to Molly Weasley to prioritize tea over readying herself.
"Tea is hardly necessary," Severus remarked. A little harsh, yes, but he wasn't known for his compassion.
Obviously not expecting anyone else to be there yet — least of all Severus Snape — she dropped a cup as she turned around and clutched her hand to her chest. The cup appeared to fall in slow motion, but it was still too fast for Severus to save it from shattering on the floor.
"Severus!" She exclaimed, flicking her wand at the floor to repair the broken cup. One piece must have been beyond repair because the cup had a little chip on the lip. "Sorry, I didn't expect anyone yet. Is Albus h—"
"No," Severus interrupted, levitating the remaining cups before summoning the tea leaves, milk, and lemon to the center of the table.
She didn't blink at his curtness or appear uncomfortable as the stillness between them deepened. Molly Weasley never backed down in the face of adversity, a trait Severus fully intended to use tonight if the necessity arose.
"Thank you, Severus." She also had the tendency to address him by his given name, rather than 'Professor' or 'Snape' like the other members, as if they were casual friends who regularly met up for afternoon tea. "I'll just go upstairs to freshen up."
Severus didn't respond. He didn't need to, nor did she expect him to. No sooner than taking his seat at the far end of the table, the sound of animated voices poured into the room, announcing the arrival of the other members. Tired greetings were exchanged, with most ignoring Severus entirely. Molly reappeared just as the kettles whistled; so perfectly timed Severus wondered whether she planned it that way. Sirius and Remus slowly sauntered in right behind Molly. They both showed signs of recently waking, irritating Severus who had spent the past several hours by the Dark Lord's side while they slept blissfully upstairs.
Notably, Albus arrived last, entering the kitchen dressed in a set of dark blue robes and hurrying to the front of the room to ceremoniously start the meeting.
" 'ey Albus, what's so urgent that you called us in here at two in the morning?" Mundungus Fletcher complained from the spot beside Severus. His voice made Severus cringe inside. "Some of us 'ave to be in Little Whinging at dawn."
True to form, Albus handled the complaint like a seasoned politician: with a feigned apology and deferring the matter to someone else. In this case, to Severus.
"I apologize for the inconvenience you may have endured," Albus remarked, declining the tea Molly offered to him. "Severus has alerted me of a situation that must be addressed promptly and by the entirety of the Order. I appreciate everyone's urgency in the matter, and with that, I'll hand it over to you, Severus."
Albus opened his arms, silently encouraging Severus to join him in front of his loyal followers. Severus did not walk to the head of the table, instead opting to stand and remain in his position in the back. Since subtly was never his strong suit, he took a direct approach, beginning with the actions he needed done and hoping no one would question his reasoning for such an enormous demand.
"We need to devise a plan to move Potter out of Little Whinging as quickly, efficiently, and discreetly, as possible." He paused, waiting for everyone to either spew out questions for him or accuse him of arranging this strictly to allow the Death Eaters to easily capture the boy. He didn't expect to see a sea of empty faces staring back at him as if he'd given them instructions in Mandarin. To make his point, he looked directly into Molly's tired eyes and clarified, "We should consider Potter no longer safe at this relative's home, and the Dark Lord will get to him if we do not move him first."
"A-are you certain?" Molly's voice broke halfway through the question. When Severus didn't appease her with a reply, she added, "Albus said he'll be here in a few weeks—"
"It will be too late by then," Severus interrupted her for the second time, but unlike before she flinched; whether it was because of his forceful tone or the implications of his words, he did not know and did not care.
"How can you be so sure?"
To Severus's surprise, the inquiry came from Nymphadora Tonks, who sat next to Kingsley Shacklebolt near the center of the table. As the newest and youngest member of the group, Severus had no personal interactions with her, but in Severus's limited assessment of her, she appeared to be riding Kingsley's coattails. Therefore, her straightforward challenge caused him to second-guess her value to the Order.
"I'm sorry, did I miss any of you at the Dark Lord's summons tonight?" Severus's lips twisted up in a sinister smile. "I didn't think so."
"Drop the dramatics, Snape," Sirius demanded. He stood, flinging his chair behind him with such force that the floor beneath Severus's feet vibrated. Slamming his palms on the table, he leaned towards Severus. "If you think we're going to move Harry on your word alone, you might as well scamper back to your first master with your tail between your legs for failing. Because how else are we supposed to know you aren't just trying to get us to move him so you can take him yourself? On your oh-so-honest word?"
"There it is," Severus muttered at the same time Remus pulled Sirius down into his freshly upright chair.
Kingsley, the typical voice of reason at these meetings and someone who had earned Severus's mutual regard stood next. "I believe we can discuss this as adults, without throwing around unsubstantiated accusations. Now, Albus has assured us that Harry is the safest at his relative's house, and we have a member of the Order outside the premises at all times as an extra security measure. Are you saying this is no longer the case? And–" his eyes moved down to Nymphadora, silencing her right as she opened her mouth to speak again, "—why do you believe he is no longer safe there?"
Severus resisted the temptation to sigh; he would not give them the satisfaction. "The Dark Lord summoned me and four others tonight… Lucius Malfoy, Yaxley, Mulciber, and Dolohov… for a rather unique meeting."
"What made it so different?" Remus asked. To his credit, he appeared alert and engaged in what Severus was saying, however, regularly providing the werewolf an expensive and rare potion might have had some influence on his attitude towards Severus.
"For one, we were in a safe house I did not recognize. The Dark Lord typically uses a new safe house when more… unique… company is in attendance. Therefore, to call only five followers of our caliber, with no prisoner in sight, made it unusual from the start. He then proceeded not into any action, but to assign us all individual tasks." He waved his wand to conjure a chalkboard behind him and noted the tasks as he spoke them, "As the only one able to enter the wards, I've been tasked with monitoring the Dursley house, paying particularly close attention to Petunia Dursley's schedule to and from the residence. No, the Dark Lord does not share his rationale behind these plans, therefore I do not know the exact purpose. It is not unreasonable, though, to extrapolate it into a plan to eliminate Petunia Dursley and force any protective wards on the residence to fall."
That certainly got their attention and a roar of people talking, one over another, filled the room.
"What about the others' tasks?" Kingsley asked or yelled to speak above the others. "I assume you have some kind of idea what the others are doing and how it might play out."
"Of course." Severus gave a smug smile. "Lucius is to locate and prepare a holding cell with a set of precise enchantments the Dark Lord provided on a parchment. Dolohov and Yaxley were given a list of magical artifacts to secure, and Mulciber was tasked with creating a distraction that could be deployed at a moment's notice. The Dark Lord also handed him a parchment, which I believe contained the parameters for this 'distraction'. All of this together leads me to believe that he intends to kill Petunia Dursley, capture Potter, and detain him for a significant amount of time rather than kill him outright."
"And the list of items?" Kingsley nodded towards Yaxley and Dolohov's names on the board.
"That is my next job to figure out," Severus stated. "I glanced at Yaxley's, but not close enough to analyze and it wouldn't surprise me if he included items as a red herring… a way to divert attention away from their true purpose. In the meantime, you need to keep Potter safe. We should not assume the Dark Lord will wait for Yaxley and Dolohov to finish their shopping before capturing Potter. Whatever he is preparing, he feels it will force the Order's hand and win him the war, more so than getting to the prophecy, hence my recommendation to adjust our tactics."
Nymohadora lifted her hand, then sheepishly lowered it. "Won't moving him now look suspicious… and draw attention to your… uh… role there?"
"Why do you think I said to do it discreetly?" Severus grumbled. "Send them all on vacation, or place Potter with a different relative, anyone or anywhere far away from Surrey will suffice. We must presume they can break the blood wards at any moment, and regrettably, he will move fast to get to Potter the instant they fall."
Out of the corner of his eye, Severus noticed Sirius perked up during his last instruction; over which part, he didn't know.
The discussion lasted until early dawn, but little progress was made in formulating any meaningful action plan for the Boy-Savior. Albus persuaded the majority of them to apply extra layers of protective enchantments to the premises — ones that did not require Petunia breathing to remain intact — until the boy arrived next month. Severus figured it was the best he would get from the Order, and after being awake for nearly thirty hours and knowing he was expected to start monitoring Petunia Dursley immediately, he was too mentally and physically tired to argue it any further.
After Albus closed the meeting, he was halfway out the door when the leader called him back.
"We need to know Tom's intent for Harry," Albus told him once the room cleared. "That he believes this will win him the war is concerning."
Severus tensed, ready to stand his ground on moving Potter. "Obviously. It's precisely why I want to move the boy somewhere safe."
"I stand by my assessment that Harry is safest at Privet Drive, at least for now," Albus replied, quietly. "There are portions of this you do not understand–"
"Then tell me!" Severus demanded. He slammed his fist on the table, releasing the fury and rage he'd kept tightly wound inside of him. "I have spied for you and lied for you, putting myself in mortal danger for you. Everything is supposed to be to keep Lily Potter's son safe. I am the one who vowed to protect him and I am telling you he is in mortal danger. I should be the one to make this decision, not you… or, worse, a vote from people who wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice Potter if required to defeat the Dark Lord!"
Albus peered intensely at Severus, bright blue eyes against his gloomy black, eventually prompting Severus to raise his Occlumency shields as a precaution. Albus rarely used Legilimency without Severus's consent, however, Severus didn't exactly trust him in their current situation.
Albus broke the heavy silence first, a minor victory in Severus's eyes. "Any place we move Harry to will require the same enchantments I am proposing for Privet Drive, therefore making moving him no more safe. On top of the extra enchantments, I shall inform Harry and the guards not to leave the grounds of Privet Drive until further notice."
Severus scoffed. "Like you forbade him from entering the third-floor corridor in his first year? He'd be better off locked up here! At least then he'd have his mutt, Weasley, and Granger to keep him occupied. He's a ticking time bomb in Surrey!"
Albus raised his hand to put an end to Severus's tirade. "He will be here soon, Severus. Until then, though, this is the best I can do."
"And if Petunia Dursley has a preventable… accident… before then?"
Albus's eyes softened as if his next words physically pained him to say. "As our spy, I expect you to tell Tom whatever it takes to prevent such a tragedy."
Severus said nothing back. What could he, really? It was his responsibility to play both sides and, therefore, to prevent this exact scenario from occurring. So admitting he might fail… well, it simply wasn't an option, even if he feared the real possibility in this case. Truth be told, the more Severus attempted to balance the line between the Dark Lord and Albus, the more he saw his inevitable demise. He only hoped Potter — Lily's son — wouldn't become collateral damage, or worse, used as a weapon for the Order. To avoid such a catastrophe he'd have to be more diligent and stay one step ahead of both his masters going forward.
Albus moved to leave but hesitated at the edge of the kitchen. "Your top priority is to find the list of supplies for our analysis," he instructed over his shoulder. "We need to uncover whatever ritual Tom is expecting to use on Harry. Leave me to handle the Privet Drive situation from here. I promise you, we will keep Harry safe."
Albus didn't wait for Severus to agree to take his leave, and Severus didn't move until he heard the front door softly close.
"Snape?"
Giving in to his exhaustion, the professor dropped his head, taking three long cleansing breaths, at the sound of Sirius Black calling his name.
"What do you want, Black?" He snarled. With his back to the Gryffindor, Severus's hand instinctively reached down for his wand, itching for Sirius to give him any reason at all to use it. "Some of us have to be useful and don't have the luxury to laze about the house all day."
The low growl he earned from Sirius was well worth his delay in getting home to bed. Unfortunately, the insult did not deter the other wizard from whatever he stopped Severus for, and Sirius came around to face him; close enough for Severus to reach him without even stretching.
"I heard your conversation with Albus," Sirius said, his voice just above a whisper, explaining his proximity. Whatever the Gryffindor had to say, he wanted to keep it quiet.
Severus waved his wand — causing a satisfying flinch from Sirius — with a whispered Muffliato.
"If you think for a moment I didn't notice you lurking in the corridor, you are much more of an imbecile than I ever gave you credit for," Severus replied, taking two steps backward. "I will ask you once again, what… do… you… want?"
Sirius's lips curved into a half-sneer as he shifted his weight between his feet, clearly debating to himself whether this endeavor was worthwhile. It was Severus's luck that he chose not to drop the mysterious subject.
"Are you loyal to the order?" He eventually asked, and Severus detected a touch of regret in his voice.
Severus clenched his teeth at the accusation, trying to prevent himself from outright hexing Sirius for it. Why else did he think Severus spent the last two hours arguing with the Order members, after spending several hours at the Dark Lord's side, and the day brewing potions for both sides before that?
Fortunately for Sirius, he didn't wait for Severus's response and instead slowly asked, "Or are you loyal to Harry? Because it sounded like you were actually worried about Harry back there. Or perhaps it's Lily?"
Severus froze. In an unexpected turn of events he never saw coming, Sirius caught him off-guard. "Go on."
"I've got to be losing my mind to come to you on this," Sirius whispered, running his hand unsuccessfully through his hair. "I swear, Snape, I will hunt you down and dismember you limb by limb if you use this against Harry. Understood?"
"I would like to see you try," Severus countered. "In an effort to get to the point of this conversation, yes, I understand."
"If you're sure about everything you said…" Sirius trailed off, waiting for Severus to refute the statement, which naturally he wouldn't. "... then I know where Harry can go to hide."
Sirius had delivered the second part so rapidly, that Severus had to focus on each individual word to determine its meaning. "And do you care to share with me where this secret place is?"
Sirius released a deep exhale. "He has… um… a relative… in the United States."
Against his will, Severus's eyebrow rose up his forehead as he worked to keep the rest of his face neutral and not show the absolute astonishment he felt inside. A relative? In the United States? How?
"I did not know Lily or James had family over there," Severus replied, proud of his indifferent tone.
"That's sort of the point, right? For him to hide," Sirius mocked at the same time an envelope he summoned raced into his waiting hand. With a small shake in his hands, Sirius offered it to Severus. "Here, read this."
A deep sense of dread crept into Severus when he recognized Lily's handwriting on the outside. And if he thought Sirius Black approaching him for assistance was the strangest part of his day, it didn't even come close to what he read in Lily's letter. He almost couldn't believe it: a muggle, or no-maj given he lived in America, was Potter's biological father? And not just any no-maj; one who appeared to be as famous in the no-maj world as Potter was in the British wizarding world. It seemed impossible, yet he doubted Sirius would come to him, of all people, with this information unless it was at least somewhat true.
"Why me?" Severus needed to understand his presumed role in this. "Assuming this is true—" he held up his hand to stop Sirius's approaching argument, "—and I'm not saying it isn't, why not have Lupin or anyone else in the Order handle it? Surely, Potter is more likely to follow literally anyone other than me."
And wasn't that the truth? If they were to pull this off, Potter would need to have complete trust in Severus to transport him — by muggle methods — across the ocean and throughout the largest city in the country. Severus purposefully pushed Potter away. Granted, it was for the sins of a man who he now knew wasn't his real father, but it didn't change the fact that Potter would never trust him.
"You'd have to be at least a decent Occlumens to lie to You-Know-Who," Sirius explained, the pseudo-complement seeming to literally hurt him to say. "You can hide Harry and lie about it. Lie to You-Know-Who… and… and then to Albus."
With a wave of his ebony wand, Severus conjured a chair a split second before falling down into it.
"Let me make certain I understand this," Severus slowly said, enunciating every syllable, "you want me, Severus Snape, to kidnap Harry Potter —"
"Harry Evans."
"—take him to America, and leave him with a man no one knows anything about? And you want all of this done with no one in the Order to know about it?"
"Yes."
"You are more insane than we all thought." Severus rubbed the small muscles in his brow which were threatening a headache. "You realize that Potter's absence will not go unnoticed? By the Dark Lord and by the Order."
"Yes."
"And that I, as the person the Dark Lord assigned to monitor Potter, and the person who spent the last few hours lobbying for Potter's removal, will likely be assumed the culprit by both sides?"
"Yes." Sometime during their banter, the Gryffindor conjured his own chair and now sat directly across from Severus, their knees almost touching. "You're the only Occlumens—"
"Flattery will get you nowhere when you're asking me to potentially face suicide," Severus snapped. "Why would you think—"
"Because you're right!" Sirius exclaimed. "You're a fucking git but the longer you went on during the meeting, the more I realized that if you're concerned about whatever dark ritual You-Know-Who is planning for Harry… and we all know it's a dark ritual… then we should too. The Ministry sure isn't going to help him. They're calling him a liar and are practically blaming Harry for Cedric's death. And the more Albus stood there claiming Harry was safe, the less I believed him. We both know he's not safe inside that house and he sure as fuck isn't safe at Hogwarts. And then… and then what you said to Albus just now… about vowing to protect Harry. You did?"
Severus huffed in annoyance. Nobody was meant to know his direct involvement in Potter's life. Still, he nodded. "Not an official vow. Merely an… agreement… to keep him safe. For Lily."
Sirius's eyes never left Severus's. "And you think he's in danger where he is?"
"Yes," Severus agreed. He wouldn't be there if he didn't. "Given the Dark Lord's obsession with killing the boy, his decision to alter directions is significant. And the specifications for the holding cell… let's just say we won't get to him once he's in the Dark Lord's clutches. At least not without losing your spy."
Sirius nodded, absentmindedly. "And his aunt? Petunia?"
"Depending on the specific wards," Severus explained, carefully selecting his words, "if they killed her, theoretically the Death Eaters, or the Dark Lord himself — although I doubt he'd do such a task himself — could then enter the premises."
"How soon–"
"Immediately." Severus held his nemeses' gaze to highlight the gravity of the situation. "If I were in Mulciber's position, I would coordinate the Order's distraction, Petunia's murder, and Potter's abduction down to the second. This way, the Order could not react."
"Fuck." Sirius stood, kicking his chair to the side and allowing himself room to pace. "Can you do it? Give me a yes or no."
Severus, as he did in all aspects of his life, took a moment to consider the question. Could he get Harry Potter out of the country and hidden in America? A better question was: what would it take to get Harry Potter out of the country and hidden in America without Albus or the Dark Lord's knowledge? A possible death sentence. A probable Azkaban sentence given the number of spells he'd have to cast on muggles and no-majs to get the paperwork through; at the very least, Confundus and Obliviate, perhaps Imperious depending on the situation they ended up in. He'd have to make it appear as if Potter fled on his own accord, so getting Potter's buy-in on the entire fiasco would be the most important, and arguably hardest, part especially without Sirius leaving Headquarters.
"Snape!" Sirius yelled, jolting Severus out of his thoughts. "Can you–"
"Yes," Severus replied without a hint of doubt in his voice, ignoring the pride that welled up inside of him at Sirius's relieved breath. "But you are overlooking a crucial point, Black. This Star—man… he's a well-known public figure, correct?" Sirius gave a clipped nod. "And Lily literally hid her son from his no-maj father, going through with a farce of a marriage, to keep the boy safe. Why do you believe dropping him on this man's doorstep is a smart idea?"
"We have to do something!" He spun around with an almost feral look in his eyes. "Is it ideal? No. But these things rarely are. Besides, I highly doubt any of your associates follow the American muggle press."
Unfortunately, Severus could not dispute any of that. He lived with a foot in both worlds and only became aware of Tony Stark when the attack on New York last year made it all the way to the London muggle papers. But it didn't mean the Dark Lord knew of him, and Severus had a few ideas for keeping Potter out of any media coverage that might find its way on this side of the pond. Easy? Definitely not. Dangerous? Absolutely. But doable, and he owed it to Lily — more than ever — to do whatever it took to keep her son safe.
Severus stood and vanished his chair to begin his own pacing, his hands tightly gripped behind his back.
"I assume you did not know Potter had a different father?" He questioned Sirius, his movements never slowing.
"No." Sirius sounded defeated, as if Potter senior's hiding this secret deeply wounded him. "I'm not sure how much you know about them, but James and Lily never officially dated. They were… uh… friends… close friends after we left Hogwarts. When he told us she was pregnant, I found the timing odd, but James just said they had gotten together to… erm… burn off some steam after an Order mission."
Severus gave a sad, cynical chuckle at the irony of him spending the past four years berating Potter for the sins of his father when Severus, himself, had unintentionally triggered the events leading to the child's conception. He remembered vividly his first duel with Lily. He had no recollection of the muggle festival they were going to attack or the hundreds of lives they would have claimed there, but he would remember their duel until his last breath. Despite Lily's belief expressed in her letter, they had never dueled one-on-one before that night. Although his mask concealed his identity at the start, he found himself unable to attack his first true friend and only used defensive spells with little regard for the outcome. He never expected her to dislodge his mask, nor did he expect her to take his identity to heart; inadvertently pushing her into a no-maj's unsuspecting path. Had it not been for that slip-up… had he fought harder to end their duel quickly… she would have gone out to celebrate their victory, never met this Tony Stark, and—
The Dark Lord would have killed Neville Longbottom on Halloween of 1999 and who knows where we would all be today.
"Have you shown this to anyone?" Severus asked, shaking the letter up in front of Sirius's face.
"No."
Not trusting his life in this man's hands, he insisted, "You are absolutely certain? Not to Lupin or Molly? Kretcher or a portrait didn't overhear you at all about it?"
Sirius swatted Severus's hand down, a bold move if Severus said so. "Not a soul. I found it the other week and wasn't even going to tell Harry. The poor kid has been through hell, and I didn't want to upend his life again. But now… can you help him or not?"
"Yes, I will handle getting Potter to the no-maj," Severus firmly answered, nodding his head as an extra confirmation of his commitment. "Can you get me his birth certificate? I could obtain a counterfeit, however the original will make it more difficult for anyone to track him down. The fewer holes we make in this story, the longer Potter… or, I guess, Evans… will be safe."
Because what he didn't tell Sirius was that they would inevitably find Potter. Severus just hoped this would buy enough time for him to get a better idea of how to put a stop to the Dark Lord's plans.
"Yeah, I'll get it for you." Sirius's head shook frantically. "Uh… how… How are you going to do it? Get him out of here."
Uncomfortable with the emotion emanating from the Gryffindor across from him, Severus craned his neck to look out towards the front entrance, pretending to verify that they were still alone.
"If you wish to stay plausibly deniable," he warned, "I suggest you leave the details to me."
Sirius's hands balled up at his sides. He clearly didn't like, or trust, Severus's answer. He'd have to get over it. He initiated this entire ordeal and, as such, would have to play by the spy's rules. Raised by the Black family, Severus could presume Sirius had been taught Occlumency to sufficiently deter any of Albus's high-level searches, so by asking Severus to take on the task, he'd all but admitted he might not handle a deep dive into his subconscious — the years spent in Azkaban surely didn't help — and the last thing they needed after all of this work, and high risk on Severus's part, was to be discovered because Black's messy subconscious.
"Fine." Sirius gritted out. "Anything else you need?"
A vat of liquid luck.
Severus was about to decline any more aid from the man — having already spent more time with him than he ever wanted to — but stopped himself as he thought of one final, and potentially mission-ending, hurdle. "Any ideas on how I can convince Potter this is true? I'll admit, I am not high on his list of trustworthy adults."
"That's a short, practically non-existent list." Sirius sneered, sighed, and rubbed his hand exhaustedly down his face. "It'll help if he hears it from me."
Another impossible task to overcome. "And how do you propose doing so without leaving this hellhole?"
Sirius smiled, the same mischievous one Severus remembered from their Hogwarts years. The one he wanted to hex right off the Gryffindor every time he saw it. "I think I have just the tool you need."
Let the games begin.
Chapter 3: Escape from Privet Drive
Chapter Text
At the 4 Privet Drive kitchen sink, Harry Potter stood with his hands in the hot, soapy water, running the tattered sponge in his right hand over the chef's knife he held in his left. His hands worked seemingly on their own to remove the leftover bits of food in a methodical almost thoughtless manner, while his eyes stared unseeingly at the ugly pink flowered tile in front of him. His body might have been in Little Whinging, but his mind was hundreds of kilometers away in the Little Hangleton graveyard.
Kill the spare!
A mental image of Cedric's lifeless face flashed before Harry's eyes. Harry could see every detail, down to Cedric's open gray eyes, expressionless and blank, and his half-open mouth, slightly surprised, as if he had also been off guard by Pettigrew. Harry's hands sped up, haphazardly sliding the sponge faster along the knife's edge.
Bow to death, Harry… I said bow.
Weeks after that horrible night, and far from the graveyard, Harry felt the same unnerving curvature in his spine, as if the evil wizard's hands were physically manipulating him like a doll.
He was going to die like Cedric. He was going to die and there was nothing he could do about it…
Sudden, searing pain in the middle of Harry's right palm pulled him out of his memories and back into his aunt and uncle's kitchen.
"Shit!"
He flung the knife into the sink to grab the tea towel off the counter. It hit the partially filled basin with a splash, sending a spray of dirty dishwasher onto his now-bleeding a few slow breaths, he bandaged the wound with the towel and pulled it snugly to help stop the bleeding, muttering "Fuck!" under his breath at the fire that ran from his hand up to his elbow.
"Boy!" His uncle's furious voice echoed from the sitting room where the family — everyone except for Harry — sat watching their evening television show. "What's all that racket in there?!"
'Racket'... Sure.
"It's, n-nothing, Uncle Vernon." Harry looked down at his wounded palm, face twisted in concern. "Just dropped a knife."
"Well, Boy, finish up, then!" Harry had no doubt that his uncle hadn't even bothered to turn his head in Harry's direction as he made his demand. "And do it quietly, or we'll lock you up straight away after dinner."
Harry rolled his eyes at the empty threat. Uncle Vernon liked to believe he was doing Harry a favor by not sending him to his room immediately after dinner, but they both knew how much Aunt Petunia hated cleaning up the dinner dishes. Therefore, realistically and regardless of what Uncle Vernon said, Harry would do the dishes every single night until he left; even if he would actually prefer to be locked in his room instead.
With his teeth clenched tight, Harry cautiously raised the edge of the towel to evaluate the damage. The blood had mostly stopped, and a quick wiggle of his fingers assured him it would not slow him down significantly. He gently re-wrapped the towel around his hand and used his good hand to retrieve the sponge — now cut in half — and knife from the sink. Since the knife had fallen into the dirty dishwater, Harry gave it a light pat down with the sponge and then deeming it clean enough, placed it onto the drying rack and proceeded to clean Dudley's plate; identifiable by the large globs of ketchup smeared across the entire surface.
"Disgusting," Harry complained to the empty room.
To make the situation more disgusting, Dudley had a habit of leaving his plate on the counter, allowing the ketchup to dry and stick so bad that not even the sponge could dislodge it and Harry had to use his nail to loosen it. He assumed Dudley did it on purpose, knowing that Harry wouldn't get gloves and would have to scrape it off. Not that confronting his cousin on it would do a damn thing to stop it.
Just as Harry was about to finish rinsing off the last of the dried ketchup, a tremor shot up his arm — remnants of the Cruciatus curse and a physical reminder of the terrifying events he had escaped, besides the lingering memories of them. As Harry struggled to hold on to the plate, the uncontrollable shaking caused him to lose his grip, and the plate fell to the floor. Holding his breath, Harry prayed to God and Merlin that Aunt Petunia didn't hear it shattering on the tile floor.
It seemed tonight was not his night.
"Potter!" His aunt's shrill voice became louder as she reached the kitchen. "What the devil is going on in–"
Harry slowly turned around, coming face-to-face with an angry Aunt Petunia. Between her pursed lips and her fists so firmly planted on her hip she probably had bruises, Harry was sure she was about to hand down a summer's worth of punishments for his inconsideration during their precious "family time". But the punishment never came because almost as soon as Harry saw, her eyes went wide; as if she was actually concerned about him. Which was completely ridiculous because Aunt Petunia never cared about him. Never. Not once. Not when he twisted his ankle running from Dudley and Pierce. Not when the creeper followed him home from the park when he was seven, asking if his name was Harry Potter. And not even when he sat up sick with a fever so high he thought he was hearing the spider in the corner of his closet whispering to him.
So why now?
He followed her gaze to the floor and found his answer: juggling the plate had the fresh cut, resulting in a rather impressive steady flow of dripping blood all over the floor, creating a stark contrast of vibrant red against the bright white shards of the ceramic plate.
"I… uh…" Harry stuttered, unsure how to explain both the cut and the broken plate.
Thankfully, he didn't need an explanation.
"Grab a towel and go get cleaned up," she curtly instructed, flinging her outstretched finger directly towards the stairs. "There are bandages in the medicine cupboard you can use."
Harry hesitated. Was this some kind of trick? Didn't she expect him to clean up the mess first?
As if understanding Harry's hesitation, Aunt Petunia impatiently shook her still outstretched hand again. Harry half-covered the dishwasher and blood-soaked towels with a second one quickly, and darted out of the kitchen, taking care to avoid stepping his bare feet on the bits of broken plate scattered around. He didn't really need to add a cut-up foot to his list of injuries for the night.
He cleared the sitting room with no movement out of Uncle Vernon or Dudley, then rushed up the stairs to the bathroom he shared with Dudley; slamming the door and locking it behind him. He wouldn't have much time before Dudley's show ended, so he made fast work of finding the box of small bandages and antibiotic cream. He'd be lucky if two bandages covered the width of his palm, but figured it only had to get him by for a day or two until his magic helped heal it and the antibiotic cream would do most of the work, anyway.
While nervously peeling back the layers of towels, Harry bit his bottom lip more with each pass. The cut was deeper than he initially realized, and an annoying voice inside his thoughts — one that sounded suspiciously like Hermione — wondered whether it needed stitches. Of course, that was easy for Hermione to say. Her parents would have taken one look at her and whisked her off to the hospital. It went for Ron too. Mrs. Weasley could heal Ron up on the spot with either a spell or potion; both of which Madam Pomfrey had used on Harry's many Quidditch injuries. Here, Harry had just been happy that Aunt Petunia didn't make him finish the dishes first, so asking to get the cut looked at was not even a remote possibility; something his friends couldn't understand.
In the end, Harry compromised and wrapped it with a roll of old gauze he found lying in the cupboard instead of trying to get the two small finger bandages to cover his entire palm. He hurried through the rest of his nighttime routine, more than ready to put the impossibly long day behind him. At the end of each day, he reminded himself that he was one day closer to returning to Hogwarts, and one day closer to seeing his friends. He just had to take the summer one rough day at a time.
A soft clunk from the wall behind him, the one shared with his bedroom, made him pause. Who was inside his bedroom? The first two summers after Hogwarts, he'd caught Dudley rummaging through it, looking for any of Harry's stuff to destroy, but stopped after failing to find the loose floorboard. Apparently, it wasn't much fun when your victim had nothing worth stealing or breaking.
Harry jumped at the sound of another thud. Instinctively, his hand reached for his wand… the wand he kept stored in his bedroom… the same room his cousin may, or may not, be searching through. Sneaking out of the bathroom — avoiding the well-known creaking floorboards — Harry wrapped a fresh towel around his injured hand in case needed to protect himself from Dudley's fist. The downstairs TV was blaring some commercial for the latest electronics, and as soon as Harry heard Dudley's whiny voice demanding the object, his blood ran cold.
If Dudley isn't in my room, then who is?
As Harry made his way down the corridor to his door, he noticed nothing looked out of place. The door was securely closed, and the locks were still folded in place, a habit he'd developed to alert him if someone had entered while he was not inside. Standing there, with his hand hovering over the knob, he mentally ran down the short list of people who could enter without going through the house: Hedwig, Dobby, or someone coming to bring him to The Burrow, as promised in Hermione's last letter — It's not much, but this afternoon I overheard Professor Dumbledore tell Mrs. Weasley that you'd be arriving here later this summer. Hedwig was still in her cage for the day, leaving either Dobby or someone there to rescue him.
"Please don't be Dobby… Please don't be Dobby," Harry chanted in a whisper as he unlatched the locks and pushed the door.
His face fell, along with any hope of leaving Privet Drive that night. Dobby wasn't bouncing on his bed or going through his wardrobe, but there also wasn't anyone waiting to tell him to pack his truck. In fact, the quiet and empty room was worse than if he walked in on Dudley tearing his Gryffindor posters off the wall or burning Hermione's letters stuffed in his top desk drawer because the room appeared to be completely empty.
That being said, it certainly didn't feel as normal as it seemed at first glance. Besides hearing what definitely sounded like someone in it, when he took a lap around the room, something about the air made him feel uneasy: it was heavier, warmer, and with a hint of a familiar scent… one he couldn't immediately place. Nothing was missing from the wardrobe, closet, and under the end — his few hiding places — and his shabby, half-made bed under the still closed window looked the same as he'd left it early that morning. His desk chair was still pushed all the way in with three of his Gryffindor ties hanging off the back from when he unpacked his first day "home", and all his most prized possessions — his wand, photo album, invisibility cloak, and the Marauders map — were still safely hidden in the undisturbed loose floorboard beside his bed.
"Maybe I am actually losing my mind," Harry admitted to himself. It wouldn't be the first time he heard noises no one else did, even if there had been a reason for it in Second Year all along.
After weeks of nightmares sleeping him awake at night, Harry finally gave in to his exhaustion and collapsed onto his bed, still dressed in his sweaty clothes. His worn-out pajamas weren't much better, after all, making changing them simply not worth the effort. He cracked the window slightly, thankful for the nighttime breeze to ease the hot, stuffy air in his room from the recent heat wave. Leaning his head against the wall behind him, he studied the cracks in his ceiling, memorizing each jagged edge to avoid shutting his eyes and falling asleep.
Memories of his parents at the graveyard came to his mind, and he fought back tears as he admitted how much he had wanted to go with them, no matter where they were or what he had to do to get there. When he'd finally gotten away and returned to Hogwarts, he was careful not to share those particular thoughts with anybody for fear of how his friends would react. What normal person wanted to see their dead parents so badly that they'd do anything to do it? And, once again, Ron and Hermione could not understand. How could they? Only another orphan could understand the hollow void in his chest, the spot left for the love by his parents… one that could never, ever, be filled.
Harry did not know how long he lay there, consumed by those horrible thoughts; it could have been twenty minutes or three hours. Eventually, though, he heard the locks clicking into place on the other side of his door, followed by his uncle's heavy footsteps and the sound of a door at the end of the hall, which belonged to his aunt and uncle, being almost slammed. With a hunch, Harry leaned across his desk to see the time — 10:52. He'd have to stay awake at least until midnight to make sure his nightmares didn't wake his relatives.
To help pass the time, Harry grabbed the letter he received from Hermione during their first week of summer. It was in this letter that she mentioned Dumbledore promising to retrieve him "sometime" and how they were keeping a close watch on him in Little Whinging. Harry did not know who "they" were, and she had written nothing else but he guessed it explained the weird rustling of leaves he'd hear in the garden, as well as the random feeling he'd get of being watched. It was why he had expected someone to be in his room when he'd entered and was disappointed to find no one there for him. Despite replying to Hermione twice, she had yet to answer back, forcing Harry to push his worry aside each night he went without a letter.
Suddenly, another tremor shot through his arm, sending Hermione's letters tumbling to the floor and he heard the phantom sound of Voldemort gleefully yelling, "Crucio!"
He started counting to himself, "One... two... three..." to calm himself down and to allow the uncontrolled movement to flow through him. The shaking subsided as he reached thirty-seven, and he curled up on his side facing the window. Shifting himself into as comfortable a position as he could, he let out a loud groan, "Bloody hell."
"I take it Madam Pomfrey did not administer an anti-Cruciatus potion after you returned from the maze," a familiar, and unnerving — considering it was in his bedroom — drawl came from near his bedroom door, interrupting his attempt at rest. "I'm sure you assumed you'd be immune to the aftereffects of it and chose not to tell her you were cursed… What was it?... Three times in less than a quarter of an hour?"
Harry sighed and closed his eyes, silently pleading, "Please don't be Snape in my bedroom. Please, don't be Snape in my bedroom," knowing it was pointless. Nonetheless, even though he expected it, the sight of Severus Snape standing in the middle of his tiny embarrassingly drab bedroom, dressed in what Harry thought to be the muggle version of his school robes, a black muggle long-sleeved shirt over a pair of black pants and black boots — does he even own any color other than black?! — shocked him to his core.
He wanted to be angry. He wanted to scream at the man to leave, but as quickly as it came, the rage dissipated. "How did you get in here?" He simply asked, his tone emotionless. "You can't be in here… my aunt–"
"Your aunt, what?" The professor challenged, stepping out of the shadow of his closet and towards the bed. His hands were clasped behind his back, giving Harry a better look at him. He looked about as worn out as Harry felt, making the professor appear more human and possibly explaining the slight worry in his dark, usually furious eyes. "Do you honestly believe I cannot disappear before she removes the five locks I heard them fasten on the outside of your door? Anything you'd like to say about that?"
"No, not really." Harry's eyes flickered between the door where Snape gestured and back. "You never answered my question. What are you doing here?"
"Your question was how did I get in here, not what am I doing here." Snape removed Harry's chair from the desk and straddled it backward in a single smooth, swift motion. "Neither of which would be any help if someone with less nefarious intentions had surprised you-"
"I wasn't surprised."
"Your first instinct should have been to grab your wand to defend yourself."
Snape reached for the Holly wand on the desk, but Harry moved faster than he had in days and snatched it first. Holding it out in front of him with his uninjured, non-dominant hand, he asked, "How do I know you're not here to kidnap me or kill me?"
"We never would have had the opportunity for this conversation if I were here to harm you, now would we? Because we both know you'd either be dead or halfway to wherever you think I'd be taking you, which the protective enchantments surrounding this house would not allow." Even though Snape's explanation was reasonable, Harry still refused to lower his wand because Neither wizard budged as the seconds passed, until at long last, Snape caved; a move Harry would relish for days. "I entered through your window and Sirius Black sent me."
Harry's heart dropped. "Sirius–"
"–is an impulsive, dimwitted, vile human being and safe with Albus in a location I cannot disclose even if I wanted to," the professor spat. "You, however, are not safe here and Black has asked me to remedy it."
Harry gripped the handle of his wand against the build-up of sweat on his palm. Snape didn't so much as flinch at the movement, nor did he reach for his wand. In fact, Harry couldn't help but notice how at ease the man appeared as he sat at the desk in his most despised student's bedroom, and the ugly sight of fake Moody transforming back into Crouch Jr sprung into his mind. If Crouch Jr pretended to be someone else for an entire year at Hogwarts, this man could be anyone.
Harry steadied his wobbling arm. "How do I know you're Professor Snape?"
"I suppose you're not such an idiot, after all, are you?" The older wizard clicked his tongue. "In your first Quidditch game, I used the counter curse to keep Quirrell from slamming your broom, and you, to the ground like a paper airplane. I would have likely succeeded too if not for Miss Granger setting fire to my robes."
Although Harry racked his brain on who else might know the details about that incident, Snape's frustrated voice, and dark expression, told Harry all he needed to know. He lowered his wand and rubbed his sore left arm, not used to using it as his wand arm.
"Not safe from who?" Harry warily asked, peering around his room as if someone might jump out of the walls. Snape had, after all. "And why isn't Dumbledore here?"
"Whom," Snape corrected with a sigh, an act that Harry never thought he'd see from the normally stoic man. "Albus believes you are safe here–"
"Well, there you go!"
"But you are not," Snape finished. "I am the one who attended the Dark Lord's summons where he all but outlined his plans to kill your aunt, capture you, and use you in another ritual. One he believes will win him the war."
Harry traced his fingers lightly on the spot where Pettigrew cut him. The movement unintentionally drew the professor's attention to his most recent injury.
"What did you do to your hand?"
Before Harry could answer, Snape grabbed his wrist, nearly yanking the young wizard off the bed in the process. His long fingers wrapped around his wrist and tightened as Harry attempted to pull away. Recognizing he wasn't going anywhere, Harry half turned towards the window as the professor unwound the towel, which was now soiled again with two large splotches of red — most likely from his rapid movements — to examine his injury.
"It's a cut," Harry unhelpfully supplied. "From doing dishes… I lost my grip and my hand slipped on a knife."
"Accidentally?" The dark eyes that peered up at him dared him to lie.
Harry nodded, not trusting his voice to sound stable. Whether Snape believed him, Harry didn't care, but the professor pulled a small vial from a duffle bag near his feet that Harry hadn't noticed.
"Essence of Dittany," Snape offered. Never releasing or lightening his grip on Harry, Snape opened the bottle single-handedly and drew up the liquid. Hovering the dropper over the cut, he looked at Harry and added, "This may sting a bit."
"A bit" wasn't anywhere close to how Harry would describe the sharp, stinging pain as his skin literally knitted itself back together with each drop. Magic, especially potions — not that he'd admit it in his current company — continued to amaze him every single year.
"Thank you," he muttered when the last of the skin fused, leaving a small line where the cut had been. Focusing on his hand brushing over the new skin on his palm, he asked, "Is that true? About his plans for me and Sirius not thinking I'm safe?"
Snape cleared his throat, another too-human thing for him to do. "Do you think I'd be here otherwise?"
Harry's head snapped up. "Why can't you ever just answer my fucking question instead of answering it with another question?! I don't know what to think right now!"
The air between them grew heavy, but Harry held his ground, refusing to be intimidated by his professor in his own bedroom.
"Yes. However, I do not expect you to believe me," Snape eventually replied. He bent down to return the potion bottle to the bag and came back up with what appeared to be a small mirror in his hands. "Sirius gave me this mirror so that he could tell you himself. Hold the mirror–" Snape placed the object in Harry's outstretched hands, "–and say his name. He's waiting for you now."
The mirror felt far heavier than it should have given its size, and a large part of Harry feared he'd see Sirius dead on the other side. He never heard himself whisper "Sirius Black" but he must have because the next thing Harry knew, Sirius's unharmed — although ragged-looking — face replaced his reflection.
"Harry! It's me, Sirius… Padfoot… Snuffles," his Godfather exclaimed. Based on the room in the background, wherever Dumbledore had him hiding away, it looked better than the cave he had been living in. "I was afraid… I'm glad you got the mirror. How are you?"
Harry shook his head to clear away the fuzziness from the odd situation he found himself in. "I'm good. A little… erm… I'm confused, Sirius. I thought someone was coming to get me. Bring me to wherever you and Ron and Hermione are. Snape showed up… he says I'm not safe. Is he bringing me to you?"
The pain in Sirius's eyes showed clearly through the glass, and Harry knew the answer before Sirius started talking again. "You can't come here right now, Harry. Albus wants you to stay there and I know he has his reasons, and I can't get into the details now, but he may have other priorities that I am not willing to test. Snape–."
"But Sirius–"
"I need you to listen to me, Harry," Sirius said in a panicked voice Harry hadn't heard him use before. "I know this is going to sound far-fetched, but your life may depend on it."
And so Harry pulled his feet up onto the bed and listened to the most outrageous story he had ever heard; each part sounding more unbelievable than the last. James and his mother had faked their marriage to protect him, but they actually fell in love in the end. As soon as the war ended, James had planned to officially adopt Harry, only they both had sacrificed themselves to save him as a baby. His biological father was a muggle — or no-maj, as Sirius called him — living in the United States and Snape was going to smuggle him over there. His real name, the one given to him by his mother, was Harry Anthony Evans. He'd never been a Potter.
As if sensing Harry's doubt, Snape handed him a duplicate of the letter his mother left for Sirius; not that it helped him believe any of it as he didn't recognize her handwriting. He'd have to trust Sirius and Snape — was he really friends with my mum?! — that it was, indeed, Lily Evans'... or Potter, he didn't know… words.
At first, Harry was furious. Furious at his mother for hiding his biological father, this Tony Stark man, away from him, and leaving him to be raised with the Dursleys. Then his anger shifted to Sirius, and how if he had not gone after Peter Pettigrew the night they died, he would have gotten custody of Harry, read the letter, and who knew where he'd be today. Definitely not sitting in a bedroom of old, tattered hand-me-downs, getting two small meals a day, and treated like a House Elf.
The next part of Sirius's story sounded just as outlandish as the rest. They — Sirius, the Weasleys, Hermione, and occasionally others who passed through, like Snape — were all living in a place Sirius couldn't say. A few nights ago Snape had come to them in the middle of the night demanding Dumbledore put Harry into deeper hiding, something like the level his parents had been in on the night Voldemort killed them. Dumbledore had refused. That he wouldn't put Harry's best interests first hit Harry the hardest, having practically idolized the man throughout the years. Sirius made sure to state that he didn't think Dumbledore had bad intentions, and that it was more that he trusted his magic over Voldemort's and truly believed Harry would be safest at Privet Drive, then at "Headquarters" until he went to Hogwarts in September.
Harry wasn't sure what to believe. On the one hand, he liked to believe that a powerful wizard like Dumbledore had good reasons for wanting Harry here. Dumbledore, on the other hand, oversaw Hogwarts and Harry hadn't really been safe there. Every one of his four years had been filled with more danger than one should experience at a boarding school, even being the famed Harry Potter. And if Snape was right, if Voldemort's ritual would win him the war, Harry needed to stay as far away from him as possible.
Sirius ended the magic mirror call by telling him to trust Snape with the next steps — a feat in and of itself — and to always keep the mirror with him so Harry could contact him or Snape in an emergency. Beyond that, Sirius warned Harry that he couldn't contact anyone, including his friends and relatives. Harry almost argued that it wasn't worth it, but he got too choked up when Sirius told him he loved him. If Harry had any reservations about joining this "scheme", they had gone straight out the window at those three words. If he and Sirius wanted to be a family someday, Harry needed to be alive and Voldemort had to be defeated first.
Clutching the mirror to his chest, already wanting to see Sirius again, Harry asked his professor, "So what do we do now?"
Snape, who had primarily sat in the room's corner while Harry and Sirius talked, seemed to have a weight lifted off his shoulders as Harry reluctantly agreed.
"Here." He reached into his bag of tricks and handed Harry a backpack. "Pack just the essentials, including your invisibility cloak–" Harry sent him a harsh glare, "-yes I know about the blasted thing… it may be useful later. We need to make it appear as if you ran away on your own accord."
"What about Hedwig?" Harry tossed his best clothes into the bag, watching each article disappear into the seemingly endless bottom. "And my school stuff?"
"Would you take your school supplies if you ran away and didn't have a bag enchanted with a featherlight and extension charm?" Harry shook his head, although the extension charm explained why his clothes weren't visible in the bag. "Then leave it all. And send Hedwig to the Burrow. We'll be traveling exclusively by muggle means and an owl will attack the wrong sort of attention. Arthur is still living there, plus I have a feeling that is where you'd send her if you ran away."
"Right." For the second time that night, Harry got choked up as he said goodbye to his first friend. "Head to the Borrow, girl. I'll be alright and I'll see you soon."
Hedwig nipped at his hand, preened the hair on his fringe, and then took off into the dark night. Harry remained at the window, feeling Snapes gaze upon his back.
"What about the guard outside?" Harry asked, not seeing any of the witches or wizards supposedly assigned to guard his home. "Won't they see me leaving with you?"
The window in front of him suddenly shut, courtesy of Snape hiding behind the curtain.
"And you know about this guard, how?"
Harry shrugged. "Hermione told me in her letter. She overheard Sirius mentioning it to Remus. About the only helpful thing she's sent me."
"Yes, well, Miss Granger has the habit of putting her nose where it doesn't belong." Snape glared at Harry out of the corner of his eyes. "All I can say is that I suppose we are fortunate that Mundungus Fletcher, the member assigned to babysit you today, is a thief who conveniently discovered a set of rare cauldrons… available… for his side business, leaving your home currently unattended. Now finish packing so we can be long gone before he returns."
With a deep, sad sigh, Harry packed everything in the floorboard; all of it considered irreplaceable and what he'd bring if running away. Then he moved to his closet only to realize it just held his wrinkled school robes.
"What about school?" He bluntly asked. "Will it be safe for me to go back in September? How else am I going to finish my magical classes?"
Harry was pretty sure he saw Snape actually roll his eyes. "You don't think more than a day ahead throughout the entire school year and now you want a drawn-out plan? Your first concern should be to survive to see next month. We'll solve next month's problem when you make it there!"
"Fine!" Harry snapped. He plopped himself onto his bed to pull on his trainers. Once he finished, he stood in front of Snape, not realizing how much he'd grown in the last few years, now almost eye-to-eye with the man. "Can you at least tell me where we're going?"
Snape smiled, a terrifying, ugly smile if Harry had ever seen one, and handed him a small burgundy booklet with "EUROPEAN UNION. UNITED KINGDOM OF GREAT BRITAIN AND NORTHERN IRELAND" written in gold on the cover. Harry didn't need Snape to tell him that the book was a passport, and even if Harry should have expected it, he couldn't hold back his gasp when he opened the cover and saw a picture of his face next to the name HARRY ANTHONY EVANS.
"We are going to New York."
Chapter 4: Welcome to New York
Notes:
I'd like to thank everyone for the comments, kudos, and likes for the first few chapters of the fic!
Chapter Text
Ironically, magical flying — specifically on his broomstick — became Harry's preferred form of transportation in both of his worlds since he soon discovered he hated muggle flying just as much as he hated magical floos and portkeys. The muggle airplane, where Harry spent most of the eight-hour journey actively avoiding the image of him trapped in a metal tube tens of thousands of feet in the air, turned out to be only one aspect of a long string of stressful muggle traveling that started the moment they left 4 Privet Drive by jumping out of Harry's second-floor window followed by an unbelievably long hike into the night.
Harry's steps were more sluggish with each passing mile, and when they came to a stop in front of an old abandoned warehouse, rather than the airport where he believed they were going, he immediately regretted accompanying the man. It'd be just his luck that this was all part of some elaborate plan to draw him away and kill him outright. However, rather than confront Voldemort or any other combination of Death Eaters, Snape simply led Harry to a small tattered mattress covered in a red blanket, gave him an Anti-Cruciatus potion to help reduce his tremors — "only time can fully heal them," Snape had snapped at him — and instructed him to sleep, not so subtly telling him he looked like death rolled over.
The wall across from Harry's held Snape's bed, a mattress in the same condition as Harry's, but with a Slytherin green blanket. Harry was at least relieved to see they both had new, bright white pillows that had to have been conjured as nothing transfigured from the room would be nearly that clean. Crumpled bags and food wrappers alongside documents scattered around the other wizard's bed led Harry to believe he'd used the dingy, moldy space in the last few days as his own little "headquarters" to plan his escape; an idea which equally terrified and warmed Harry. His name on a birth certificate drew Harry's attention to a pile of paperwork as tall as Harry's Monster Book of Monster Textbook several magazines — muggle one based on the lack of moving pictures —, a map of New York, and an array of photographs of himself, as a baby and teenager, and of his mother. He desperately wanted to ask to at least see the photos, and possibly find out where he'd gotten them, except Snape sorted through them as soon as Harry saw them and despite whatever Snape said about him, he wasn't actually dumb enough to interrupt that process.
Harry tossed and turned most of that first night and from what he could tell Snape didn't sleep at all. Each time Harry cracked his eyes open, the man was sitting hunched over the folders, running his hands through his hair, and his worry lines deep as if he were preparing for war. After catching Snape's obviously anxious expression for the third time, Harry worried they might be heading into a war zone, and upon reaching the chaotic airport, he realized Snape was correct; something he had never admitted, even just to himself.
At first, Harry figured they'd want to pass by as few people as possible, and therefore was confused when they left for the airport at dawn rather than waiting for the evening. But he quickly picked up on the benefit of anonymity by blending into the chaos of morning flights as they got on the plane and made it to New York with no one questioning them. Harry suspected Snape confounded at least a dozen muggles on their way to the plane — from the gate agent to the flight attendants, and even the nice, older couple who sat beside them on the long flight after they wouldn't stop asking questions about their "father-son trip" to the States — and possibly an Imperious or two, most notably on the customs agent in New York, which probably also helped get them there relatively easily.
If Harry thought the London airport was crazy, he wasn't prepared for New York. Similar to how he felt walking through Diagon Alley with Hagrid, the corridors were so packed with people and luggage that they had to swerve this way and that to avoid them all. While most of the travelers passing through Laguardia were happy to ignore the man in all black guiding an uneasy teen with only a backpack slung over one shoulder, there were plenty of others who watched them closely as they skipped baggage claim and headed for the exit. One woman even trailed Harry until they reached the taxi that was waiting for them, catching up with him whenever Harry slipped a little bit behind Snape and backing off again when he caught up to the professor. Surely the woman thought Snape had kidnapped Harry, and Harry gave a humorless laugh to himself at how close to the truth she would have been.
In the same way that Harry believed they were going to the London airport straight from Privet Drive, Harry foolishly believed they would go straight to Stark Tower — renamed Avengers Tower last year according to the magazines Snape had given him to study on the flight — from the New York airport. Instead, Snape asked the taxi driver to take them to a rundown hotel in a place called Queens, a place which didn't look like any picture of New York Harry had ever seen. He then left Harry magically locked in their shared room for hours, taking the invisibility cloak with him, and stayed out all day; returning only for lunch, dinner, and finally at bedtime.
All of that happened three days ago, and after the whirlwind of his escape followed by the days of idly waiting it out, allowing him too much time to rethink the situation he found himself in, Harry felt as if he had officially gone mad.
"What if I don't want to meet him?" Harry grumbled sullenly, balling up the wrapper of the greasy burger he'd just finished for dinner. He tossed the wrapper towards the small rubbish bin on the other side of the room, smiling smugly as he watched it effortlessly sink to the bottom. "Being a sperm" – he grimaced at having to say the word to Snape of all people – "donor doesn't automatically make him my father, you know."
"Actually, according to the genetic definition, his donated sperm is precisely what makes him your father," Snape responded, seemingly unfazed by the awkward subject.
Not wanting to get into a biological debate, Harry ignored the comment in favor of fueling his increasing frustration. "Right now he doesn't even know I exist. I can just go hide in muggle New York until you and Dumbledore take down You-Know-Who and he would stay completely oblivious to me." Harry wiped his hands dramatically against each other. "Problem solved."
"Do you honestly believe you'd survive one night in New York on your own?" Snape rhetorically asked. Unlike Harry, he ate his dinner at the table directly in front of Harry's bed while he read through papers Harry wasn't allowed to see; papers the spy went as far as taking with him whenever he left the room to go on his 'missions'. Without so much as turning around, he added, "My goal here is to not get you killed and, as tempting as it might be, leaving you to the streets of New York is counterproductive to that endeavor."
Harry let out a loud, exaggerated, hmph.
The next few minutes passed in uncomfortable silence, or uncomfortable for Harry as it seemed Snape could sit almost anywhere and appear at ease, so he dumped the bag of magazines and news articles about Tony Stark, Stark Industries, and the Avengers across his small bed. Like his mother had, as Harry read about his biological father he was drawn to Stark Industries' former legacy of building weapons. Not that Tony Stark's "party" legacy was much better, but Harry's entire existence was composed of violence, and he didn't particularly like the idea of his father's fame coming from killing others. And the more he read about Tony Stark's early years, the same information his mother would have had, the less Harry liked him and the more he understood her decision.
But then some terrorist group kidnapped Tony in Afghanistan, as part of a conspiracy Harry didn't claim to understand anything about, and turned his business and himself around. Four years and an Iron Man suit later, Stark Industries was making a name for itself in advanced tech and sustainable energy — two more topics Harry knew nothing about, but Hermione would probably love to spend a day with Tony Stark, or better yet Pepper Potts, to discuss them. The attack on New York last May brought together an odd group of people to protect the city, and the Earth if Harry believed half of the journalists, with Tony practically leading the way. Coming from the world of magic, it shouldn't seem so unusual, but Harry sat on his bed debating if the photo of his alleged father flying a weapon into a hole in the sky was real. One major advantage of wizarding photographs was that they moved, making them significantly more believable. Surely someone had a video of the event somewhere, however, Harry wasn't too sure he wanted to see the man who was supposed to protect him voluntarily sacrifice himself.
Harry noticed a small inset photo of Tony Stark presenting at the Stark Expo a few years ago. He was standing on a lit stage, looking well put together in a smart suit with a carefree enthusiasm that Harry had never really seen in another adult.
"We sort of look alike… in a generic way." Harry shuddered at the deep layer of sadness laced into his voice. He kept his eyes fixed on the image, mentally taking in every minor detail of Tony Stark's features, as he asked, "Why do you think everyone always said I look just like James if we're not blood-related? Did my mum get lucky? O-or she had a type?"
He heard papers rustling and a zipper opening, then closing immediately afterward; Snape preparing to leave again.
"Power of suggestion, most likely," Snape eventually answered. He sat on the edge of his bed to pull on his boots, in a normal, human act Harry would never get used to seeing from his professor — still not anywhere close to the horror of seeing Snape, the evil git, brush his teeth. Harry shivered at the domesticity of it. "The glasses don't certainly help. They are the same round wire frames James used to wear. Therefore, when the child assumed to be his was seen, and he had similar, albeit common, features… dark hair, pale skin… the mind fills in the rest."
It seemed as good of an answer as any. Looking at his pictures of James Potter, Harry couldn't say they shared any single defined feature solely with each other. His brown messy hair could have come from anyone, not even necessarily Tony Stark, and his smaller stature… Well, he never knew James or Lily so he couldn't really say whom he got it from. But his eyes were all Lily's and, looking into Tony's brown ones, Harry loved how he still had this unique connection to his mother.
"You're off to follow him again?" Harry complained as Snape pulled on his black overcoat. The only information Snape gave him about these mysterious outings was that he was observing Tony to find the right way to approach him, and he needed Harry's invisibility cloak to do so; something about Stark technology being able to read his heat signature if he used a Disillusionment Charm alone. "How many times do you need to see him walking down the street? Can't we just show up at the tower? It's not like he can turn us away."
"First, I am doing significantly more than simply watching him walk down the street," Snape lectured, clearly annoyed at having to deal with Harry's angsty mood, "There are hundreds, quite possibly thousands, of people who enter or get close enough to his ivory tower to be of concern, not to mention the type of people who also reside in said tower and who you will inevitably come into contact with and frustrate enough to lose control."
"I will not—"
"Second," he said, interrupting Harry's rebuttal to defend himself, "I am trying to keep you hidden as well as alive. What do you think will happen if we stroll up to the reception desk and demand a paternity test? I guarantee you any of those hundreds of people in or around the lobby will sell your identity to the highest bidder."
Based on the harsh glare from the professor sent towards him, the question, apparently, was not rhetorical, despite Snape already answering it. But rather than provide his own answer, Harry pulled a page out of Snape's book and answered his questions with a question. "But he's famous, right? Doesn't exactly seem like a good hiding spot, now does it?"
If they were back at Hogwarts, down in the dungeons during a Potions class, Harry would have been proud of the dark angry red creeping up Snape's pale cheeks; not so much being stuck sharing a hotel with the man. There were some lines he didn't want to cross or get close to at all, and he was already toeing it.
"Have you heard the phrase 'hiding in plain sight'?" He asked through clenched teeth. Harry nodded. "It's a phrase for a reason. Now leave the rest to me."
He didn't give Harry a chance to respond before turning on his heels and storming out the door, although it didn't slam nearly as hard as Snape had probably wanted.
"I am so screwed," Harry muttered to himself as he went back to reading the magazine, and unsuccessfully trying to sort out his feelings surrounding his newfound father.
ooOoo
Tony Stark was having a fabulous night. While Pepper spent the day hopping from meetings with the board and regulatory committees, Tony spent his morning checking in on his latest communication devices, the software upgrade for the last StarkPhone camera, and Clint's new arrowhead prototype — fixing the new laser he added to the previous prototype which had been so strong it cut through the test bow — effectively opening up his afternoon to plan the perfect date for him and Pepper.
Dinner and a movie, or in their case a movie and dinner, followed by a stroll through Central Park. Yes, it might have lacked any sense of originality, but it checked off all the boxes Pepper had been looking for: a classic, normal date night out. And keeping Pepper happy was at the top of his priorities because he fully realized that he couldn't live without her, especially after the attack on New York last year.
"I really think I nailed date night this week," Tony smoothly said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She wore the sleeveless black dress Tony loved and with her walking next to him, he felt like he had everything in the world. "Dinner at your favorite Italian restaurant," he counted on his fingers, "a movie out in an actual movie theater, not our living room or the Towers theater, and now this beautiful night stroll… it doesn't get more normal than this, am I right?"
Because normal had been the word she used after date night last week when they stayed in for the third date night in a row, and when he suggested they fly back to Chicago to see Hamilton. But since nothing about Tony Stark's life screamed normal, he asked JARVIS for the most common dates and he thought he hit every single one of them.
"Well," Pepper emphasized the word as she leaned into his shoulder, "technically normal people don't buy out a theater to play a decade-old movie or have the popcorn machine sitting in the back row of the theater. Dinner, however, was delicious and spot on."
"You're mocking me," Tony feigned insult by moving away from her and walking backward in front of her. He pointed his finger at her, accusingly. "Next date night I'll send you to refill the popcorn bucket and you can miss the best parts of the movie. As for the twelve-year-old thing… Yesterday you specifically mentioned you wanted to go out, then turned down every movie playing tonight, so that one is sort of on you."
"Oh, really?" She gently grabbed for his arm, slowing them down on their path. With a smile on her face, she softly kissed his lips, a move he'd never take for granted.
"Do I at least get credit for knowing your favorite movie is Kate and Leopold? A movie almost no one knows about, I might add," He asked, speaking into her smile. "You have to admit, it's an improvement from the vague, and misguided, connection I made between you and the strawberries."
"That depends." She kissed the side of each cheek with the words, then whispered, "Did JARVIS suggest it?"
"Absolutely not," he proclaimed, holding his hands up in innocence, even though it pushed them further apart than he liked. "And I'm not going to lie, I'm a little insulted you'd think that. Ok, maybe it is a move I'd do, but tonight… that was all me. JARVIS?" His head swayed side-to-side. "He helped with the heavy lifting… reservations and such."
"I had a lovely night, Tony," Pepper said in a way that made Tony wish they weren't standing in the middle of the park blocks away from home.
"What do you say we cut this walk a little short?" Naturally assuming her answer, he pivoted them around and walked — ok, partially pulled — them in the opposite direction. "I have a perfect bottle of…"
The sound of footsteps to his left and the rustling of the bushes took his attention away from his thoughts. Every muscle in his body automatically tightened as if, like Peter, he could sense some type of incoming danger, and he stepped in front of Pepper, using his body to shield her. A quick check toward the sound revealed nothing out of the ordinary, though the reassurance did little to ease his anxiety. This was the fifth time he noticed something unusual in the last three days.
"Tony?" Pepper grabbed onto his arm, trying to get around him, but he didn't budge. "What's going on?"
After scanning for any movement or odd objects in the immediate vicinity, he moved outward, at last acknowledging no one was there. But that fact didn't help him relax. Something inside of him screamed for them to return to the Tower right now, that he wouldn't be able to rest until they were safe there.
"Tony!"
"I heard something," he finally explained with an edginess to his voice he hated using with Pepper. "Like someone walking near us."
"It's probably a cat or something."
She didn't believe her own words, Tony could tell even before she sped up her walking, neither slowing down until they reached their personal entrance in the back of the Tower leading them directly to the backside of their personal elevator.
Waiting for the elevator, Tony swallowed the lump forming in his throat. "JARVIS, I need all the video footage from around Central Park in the last hour… emphasis on the route Pepper and I took. Identify all known possible assailants and include everything in a block radius of the theater and restaurant going back the hour before we arrived through a half-hour after we left."
"Of course, Sir," his AI loyally replied. "Would you like it sent to your phone or upstairs?"
Tony peered up at the floor numbers; it'd be there any second. "Upstairs, Jay."
Pepper squeezed his hand tighter. "There goes our bottle of wine tonight. Do I at least get to know what's occupying your mind this time?
The elevator dinged, and Tony released his anxious breath as they stepped inside, feeling like the band around his chest had snapped and allowed him to breathe easy again. The Tower protection officially started at their elevator. No one could get to them from here without JARVIS knowing, and acting accordingly to prevent any danger.
"I've had this feeling of being watched lately, except JARVIS hasn't been able to find anything there. No thermal signatures, no people without a reasonable purpose for being near, not even anyone with more than a speeding ticket lately. And just now… I swear I heard footsteps out there too heavy to be a cat. And it felt like someone moved when we did… maybe ending up in the trees."
Pepper pulled her hand from his and snaked it up his arm to wrap it around the top, both of them focusing on the increasing floor numbers.
"Are you sure you want to stay in New York? The building is done, and everyone is settled here. We could fly back to Malibu in the morning and get far away from all the… stress… I know the city brings you."
The lack of tension in her voice at the suggestion told Tony she'd been thinking about this for a while now. And why wouldn't she? Everything about the city sent him right back into that wormhole. But things hadn't been easier in Malibu; it was why they moved into the Tower during the rebuild in the first place.
"No," Tony refused. Ready to get started on his search, and distract him from the conversation at hand, he pulled his phone from his pocket to access the Tower camera from the last three days. Then, he could run a comparison to check if any person shows up on multiple feeds without reason; "reason" being limited to: they lived in the fucking Tower. He spoke as he typed, never losing track of his work or his words to Pepper, "You love New York, Pep. And I love you. And it's good for me to be here to work on the Team's tech, build morale, that sort of stuff. I'm making progress, you know."
"I know you are."
Pepper laid a soft kiss on his cheek just as the elevator doors slid open into the new vestibule that separated the elevator from their penthouse door. As much as Tony loved the grandiosity of walking straight into their home before, he appreciated the added security the vestibule provided, even if it now divided his living space into two distinct sections — their primary home through the door on the left and their guest quarters through the door to the right. Aside from the small decorative table on the wall across from the elevator, the vestibule contained only two additional features: a door to the emergency set of stairs beside the elevator and a second glass-encased stairway leading down to his personal workshop. To help him keep his work and home separate, he had agreed with Pepper to keep the latter set of stairs outside of their official residence — as if opening one more door would make him think twice about spending hours down there during one of his work benders.
Pepper had designed almost entirely their newest home on the 80th floor of the Avengers, and Tony wouldn't have had it any other way. He wanted her to feel like it was her home as well — not twelve percent, or any other odd percentage. Plus, she honestly knew more about Tony's taste in furniture, paint colors, and artwork than he did. So how much of the design was her personal preferences versus her choosing what they both liked, he'd never really know. His workshop on the floor below them, though… that was all him.
Despite the lavish, high-end decorating and the high-ceiling, expansive space, Tony's favorite aspect of their New York home was the view he had when he walked straight into the living room from the entryway. With floor-to-ceiling windows encircling the entire outside wall, the three bedrooms and entire living area literally had the best views of New York City, the city that truly never slept. And while it differed completely from the ocean view in Malibu, watching the life of the city… the lives of people he literally saved… helped keep him sane throughout all of his struggles in the past year.
Pepper immediately headed for their master bedroom on the left side of the penthouse, unfortunately, to change out of her dress, while Tony merely loosened the blue tie around his neck and waved his hand over the set of three clear screens at his small workstation opposite their sofa and entertainment center, bringing them, and JARVIS, to life.
"Sir, I've analyzed the footage you requested, using the hours proceeding yours and Miss Potts' whereabouts in Central Park."
Dozens of small windows of videos filled the transparent screen, with colored coded circles pointing out people of interest and lines connecting those people from one video feed to the next. A quick tap of the circles brought up any potentially relevant details on the person — tickets, arrest records, and any reason for their location nearby, such as dinner reservations or work location. He lifted his phone up to the screen on his right and with a quick flick of his wrist, the videos he'd been watching in the elevator jumped to the screen and immediately began connecting anyone from the Tower over the last few days to the videos JARVIS found.
His fingers danced over the keyboard, already knowing the answer to the question he was about to ask. It'd be the same as every other event he'd asked JARVIS to explore.
"And what'd you find?"
"There is no evidence of any human life in the vicinity related to the event you experienced."
"I heard something, Jay," he argued. In an almost inaudible mumble, he added, "And I felt… the air moved. Too quickly. Almost… unexpected."
He might be onto something. What had they done right beforehand? They had turned around, suddenly. If someone had been following them… Well, that person wouldn't have expected Tony to about-face out of nowhere. That person would have had to move out of their way or risk being discovered. However, that person also didn't exist on any camera, radar, or thermal scan he'd run. And as far as he knew, not even SHIELD knew of anyone enhanced with invisibility, at least not yet. Surely, they'd eventually face it in the future.
Several dozen more clicks on his screen later, the door to their bedroom closed and Pepper joined him in the living room. Now dressed in a casual, and significantly less sexy, set of jogging pants, a fitted green T-shirt, and bare feet, she sat down in her reading spot, on the corner of the couch, with a book laid open across her lifted knees. She was preparing for a long night, and he was determined to prove her wrong, just as soon as he eased his mind enough to allow him to rest.
"Sir?" JARVIS interrupted. His clicking on the screen halted when a large window popped up of a live feed of their lobby, effectively covering the other areas Tony had been investigating. "A guest code for your elevator was generated thirty seconds ago, requested and entered by Miss. Braden in reception. As I do not have any guests on your schedule, I've stopped the elevator between floors thirty-five and thirty-six. I cannot detect any lifeform inside of it."
"Thanks, Jay," he murmured. Swiping his finger over the live feed to rewind the footage, he was shocked to watch as his overnight receptionist typed out the request for the code, walked to the elevator, and entered it into the keypad completely alone and with no verbal request to do so. Miss. Braden never stepped into the elevator, so when it closed, it appeared completely empty.
"Bring up the elevator feed." He demanded, but he knew what he'd see. Or in this case, not see.
"Tony?" Pepper met him at the screens, watching the events of the receptionist unfold again from over his shoulder. "She has a clean record–"
"I don't think you didn't do your job, Pep," he said forcefully and paused the screen at the moment she went to request the guest code, zooming in on her face. "Look at her eyes. A frame or two ago she was reading on the screen and now they look unfocused. Why?
"And then…" he fast forwarded the video from the hallway pointing to the elevator doors closing, and brought up the same timestamp from the elevator camera so they had one viewpoint looking straight into the elevator and the other as a bird-eye view inside of it, "look, right there. I swear I see a ripple of black. But it's quick and not picked up inside the elevator."
Pepper's eyebrows scrunched, giving her full attention to the two observations Tony made. "I see something, but can't tell what it is."
In the screen's corner, the live footage of the elevator still showed nothing inside. Then it hit him.
"JARVIS," Tony called out, "compare the weight of elevator car five in the minute proceeding Miss. Braden opening it to its current weight."
"Good idea," Pepper muttered.
Two numbers flashed on the screen with a bright red "182 lbs" circled between them; the amount of added weight in the car.
"Got you!" Tony exclaimed. He had no clue how to explain it, but someone — likely an adult male based on the average weights JARVIS listed beside it — was hiding in the elevator car.
"Send it down, JARVIS," Pepper stated, and the numbers in the elevator decreased.
"No!" Tony cried out. "Stop it there Jay." Like a good AI, the elevator stopped between floors twenty-seven and twenty-eight. He turned to Pepper. "Here me out."
"Why do I feel I won't like this?"
"Obviously some real weird shit is going on here," Tony went on, completely ignoring her rhetorical question. "Sure, we can send that car back down and lock it for the night, but what's stopping whoever this is from coming again tomorrow? Right now, we have whoever… whatever… has been following us locked in that car and it can only go up here. I say you go upstairs for a bit, I grab my suit and have JARVIS send the car up. The door opens and—"
"You blast at nothing because you can't see what's in there," Pepper deadpanned, deflating the building excitement Tony has over getting this guy.
"I was going to say blast him into next week," he argued. "You make a fair point but it's better than letting this guy roam free."
They spent the next ten minutes debating how to handle the situation — Pepper all but demanding they get other resources involved and Tony pushing to let him take a go at it. In the end, Tony won and less than five minutes later Pepper was safe upstairs on Thor and Steve's currently unoccupied floor with the instructions for JARVIS to call Bruce — the only other Avenger in the building that night — as an absolute last resort if things went south. In his full Iron Man suit, Tony stood directly in front of the elevator with the door to his private floor securely locked behind him.
With all his scanners targeted on the elevator and his arms out ready to fight, he whispered to JARVIS, "Send him up."
The numbers seemed to crawl from twenty-seven to eighty, and when the ding finally sounded Tony's heart was beating hard against the metal suit, because although he refused to say it out loud to Pepper, Miss. Braden's reaction reminded him too much of Clint being under the control of Loki's scepter, and Iron Man had little to protect against it.
As expected, the door opened to an empty car, and instead of waiting for his tech to confirm that it also detected nothing, Tony moved to blast at the middle of the floor, hoping to hit anything or at least shock the being into showing itself. That wasn't what happened, however. Despite assuming he had the upper hand, in what seemed like a blink of an eye he found his limbs frozen, JARVIS and all of his displays fried, and plummeting to the floor, hitting it with a loud thud he hoped Pepper didn't hear.
Tony, unable to move inside his suit, continued to stare up at the ceiling as an ugly man with a hooked nose and awful greasy hair clutching a sleek black stick, of all things, appeared.
"You have been petrified. Any attempt to move will be futile until I release you," the new man stated, and Tony was taken aback by his English accent. "I do not wish to harm you, but there are at least a half dozen ways for me to do so in this situation. I have information you will be interested in hearing. My name is Severus Snape and I am the good friend of a woman you met about fifteen years ago. She needs your help… Your son needs your help."
The words, specifically the mention of a son, sucked all the air right out of Tony's lungs.
"I'm going to let you up now," the man said, calmly. "Call off whatever backup you might have coming so we can discuss where to go from here."
Tony wanted to yell fuck no, but even if he could move his lips to say it, the thought simply vanished. So after his suit powered back up and the hold this man had on him ended, he told JARVIS, "Tell Pepper to stay put."
"But, sir–"
"Do it, Jay!"
As the cloudiness in Tony's head cleared and he regained his footing, he was ready to slam the man to the ground when he held out a picture in front of Tony's face. It was of a woman with dark auburn hair and vibrant green eyes, the brightest green he had ever seen and had never seen on anyone since. He fell to the floor once again, staring up at the picture clutched by the mysterious man.
It took a moment, longer than he would have liked, for his brain to supply him with her name. "Lily… Lily… I don't remember her last name."
"Evans." The man, Severus was it, stated, his disapproval of Tony clear in his tone. "Her name was Lily Evans, and you met her in London in October 1997 under the alias Anthony Rhodes."
"I was taking a robotics class… thought it would teach something up and upcoming. I was sorely disappointed," Tony offered to help jog his memory. He removed his face plate to get a better look. Yes, it was Lily. "She didn't recognize me. I threw the name out hoping to mess with her and catch her in the lie, but she really had no clue who I was."
Lost in the fragments of the memories, Tony jumped at the sound of the stairwell door flying open where Pepper stood there panting for breath. Naturally, she ignored JARVIS's — and by extension his — instructions to stay upstairs.
"Tony Stark, what is–" she started, and screamed at the sight of the vampire-looking man kneeling in front of Tony.
"It's fine, Pep," he said, although he didn't entirely believe it himself. "Let's, um… why don't we all go upstairs to talk this through?"
Not wanting this person on his private floor, he figured the communal lounge was as good of a place as any. Plus, it had the most angles for him to recover the recordings of this conversation later seeing as he had no doubts he'd want to fully examine what the hell was about to happen.
The Party floor, as they appropriately named it, was where they hosted large gatherings, like the Grand Opening party for the Tower and once to celebrate the last contract Stark Industries scored; much to his lawyers' displeasure as they continuously cautioned him to keep the SI side and Avengers side of his life separate. It had a wide open space, glass walls, a fully stocked bar — his drinking might have slowed since Afghanistan, but he had a feeling he'd need something by the end of this little rendezvous — and several well-hidden weapon spots, for extra security measures. Although Tony removed his suit, he kept it close by. Not knowing how Dracula incapacitated him out of nowhere, he wasn't taking any chances.
"Are you sure you wouldn't prefer we had this conversation alone?" Severus asked, sending Pepper a glare that would have earned him a quick blast if he still had his suit on.
"She knows my history." Tony gestured to the sofa to show the man where to sit. He and Pepper took the one directly across from him, positioning the glass coffee table between them; a potential weapon should he need it. "She had the unfortunate position of cleaning up most of it, actually. This… uh… Lily… she was a bit before Pepper's time."
He picked up the picture Severus tossed on the table between them. It had to be an older picture, taken not long after she and Tony met. For this purpose, Tony guessed it made sense to bring one closest to the age Tony would have known her.
"How is Lily these days?" He asked. It felt safest to start with Lily than use the word he wanted to avoid. Son. "I take it she's looking for money?"
Because wasn't that what every single one of the other bogus paternity claims had been after. None of those were real, a simple and efficient DNA test snuffed those real quick, but as he stared into Lily's eyes something about this felt different. Almost right.
"She's dead, actually," the man said, averting his eyes down to his clasped hands.
"I'm sorry," Tony replied. What else could he say? Like it or not, it didn't take Tony's genius-mind to see the writing on the wall and where this conversation was headed. She got pregnant and now that she's dead, the boy in question — the one presumed to be his — had to go somewhere. "It happened recently then?"
"No. She died roughly fourteen years ago."
"No shit?" Tony did not see that coming. "Must have happened a few years after we met."
"So, you remember her?" Pepper asked, which somehow coming from his girlfriend made Tony feel worse about the whole thing.
He nodded. "Hard to forget when I got the call about my parents' death the morning after we…" he looked at Pepper in a silent apology, "... Uh, got together. But it wasn't just one night… I mean, it was only one night, but we had seen each other for a week or two before then. Another part that made her unique outside of the whole not knowing who I was thing."
Pepper gently grabbed the picture out of Tony's hand. "If she died, why are you here? Did Tony… do you think he had something to do with it?"
Tony cringed at Pepper's perfectly reasonable question. He'd purposely been tip-toeing the elephant in the room, the one about to be spotlighted.
"She had a son," the man stated, delivering the news like ripping off a bandaid. "She had your son."
Tony felt, more than saw, Pepper's head snap up to look at him. Needing to move, otherwise he might explode, he stood and paced to help work through his thoughts on it all.
"Allegedly," Tony snapped, whipping around and pointing at the man, who looked nothing like the other money-hungry women who loudly proclaimed him to be the father of their infants; all in the very public Stark Tower lobby. Those few years had been wild ones and had thankfully declined rapidly after Afghanistan, alongside his Playboy days, and all but stopped once he officially started dating Pepper. No, instead sitting there was a rather scary-looking vampire — dressed similar to Fury, Clint, or Natasha in all black with a shifty look on his face… so like a spy — trying to sell him a story of a woman who kept his child a secret for the last fifteen years.
"What's the deal, here?" Tony snapped his fingers as he said it. "Let's get to the point, Mystery Man. If she died that long ago why wasn't I notified then? What happened to… the kid… and why come out of the shadows now?"
"Harry," Severus offered. "His name is Harry, and he went to live with Lily's sister- and brother-in-law. Recently, they have become… unable… to care for him."
"They died too?" Pepper asked, and Tony hated the grief he heard in her tone. They absolutely could not get attached to an orphan story with no evidence to it.
"How convenient," Tony counted with. "He lost two sets of guardians before turning eighteen."
Severus gritted his teeth. "Some might say unfortunate, rather than convenient."
Tony stopped his pacing and leaned his side against the couch directly behind Pepper. "So why wasn't I notified when Lily died?"
"Lily heavily implied her future husband to be Harry's father. Your identity only recently came to light in a letter found in Lily's estate." Severus pulled another sheet of paper from his coat pocket — how did he fit it in there? — and stretched it out towards Tony.
"I'll take that," Pepper said automatically as Tony said "I don't like being handed things" and grabbed the paper to then offer it to Tony.
A birth certificate for one Harry Anthony Evans, born on July 31, 1998, in England to Lily Evans. No father was listed.
"This doesn't tell me a damn thing besides a boy was born to a woman I knew for a hot second. Anyone with a computer can doctor that up with their eyes closed, seal and all," he argued, allowing his frustration to build. He needed this charade to end, and to end now. "So where is this secret kid? Why didn't you bring him here for a simple DNA test? That'd clear this all up real fast."
Again, Severus drew another item from his coat pocket, but he didn't offer it to either him or Pepper. He dropped it on the table for Pepper to pick up, which she did, and none of them missed her sharp inhale at the sight of a boy looking a lot like Tony did as a teenager, but with Lily's beautiful green eyes, staring back at him. Tony closed his eyes and turned around; he'd seen enough for the night.
"I thought it best for us to meet before bringing him into the equation," Severus told them. He clasped his hands together on his knee and casually leaned back, having laid all of his cards on the table.
Pepper gave a slight nod, answering Tony's unasked request for her to handle the details of this. She was always good at handling the details of Tony's messes.
"Can you bring him here tomorrow at eleven?" She requested, handing the two photos and the birth certificate back to Severus, and seamlessly slipping into her business mode. She stood to show the end of the impromptu meeting. "We'll have someone on our staff–"
"Bruce," Tony demanded. He didn't care if Bruce claimed he wasn't 'that kind of doctor', Tony trusted no one else with this information. "It has to be Bruce."
"Bruce," Pepper corrected, "will run the necessary paternity test and we'll figure out where to go from there. I'm sure you can understand that we need more than a couple of pictures and a half-completed birth certificate."
"Understood."
Severus mirrored Pepper's stance; all professional as if two people's lives weren't about to potentially and drastically change by lunchtime tomorrow. Tony, on the other hand, wanted to either throw the man out the window or lock him up.
Thankfully, Pepper handled the salutations — she requested they "please enter through the front lobby and ask for Pepper Potts" and Severus told them to keep the photographs, confident that this child from Tony's former fling would be a permanent addition to their life. Tony's sole contribution to the end of it all was yelling that he'd find out how Mystery Man snuck onto their floor and all about the voodoo magic he'd done; a comment which thoroughly confused Pepper.
Later, when Tony and Pepper were finally in bed neither could sleep but for very different reasons than the wormholes and aliens usually keeping Tony awake. He wrapped his arms around her, softly kissed up her bare shoulder, and whispered into her neck, "I'm sorry, Pep. I don't know what to think right now. There's the invisible thing, the frozen thing, how he got the guest codes, and then the…"
He trailed off. If he didn't say it, it might not be true.
"We'll figure it all out in the morning, Tony," she tried, unsuccessfully, to reassure him. "Nothing you do or don't do tonight will change the results tomorrow. You need to sleep."
"I know that. But God, Pep… a kid? I can't have a kid." He pushed himself up and rested against the plush silver headboard. "And I probably don't! A middle name and looking vaguely like me doesn't mean he's mine. So this… vampire… is going to drag a teenage kid through this mess for what?"
"I know you're scared, Tony," she stated, confident like only she could, "but try to remember… this boy… Harry… he didn't ask to be born, and he didn't get to choose his parents. And if what this man says is true, it sounds like he's had a pretty rough ordeal lately."
She was right. Pepper was always right and listening to her would make Tony a better person. But he couldn't let go of the feeling that something didn't add up. Where were the lawyers? Why the clandestine meeting?
"What if he's a Trojan horse?" Tony spat out, already hating himself for suggesting it, but in for a penny in for a pound. "For all we know he's part of some organization to get inside."
Pepper patted his pillow, convincing Tony to lie down. "I've already arranged extra security for tomorrow and they'll be limited to the reinforced room in the biological laboratory on floor sixty-two. Bruce is going to move all the equipment there in the morning. I've also canceled everything after ten, so no one will be in the building who shouldn't be."
Tony nodded, exhaling a half-relieved sigh. She really had taken care of everything. Everything besides…
"I want the lawyers on standby," he added, refusing to look away from the spot on the ceiling he was currently fixated on. "On the off chance that… that Count Dracula is right, and a middle name and a familiar-looking face ends up meaning something, then I want the kid in my custody by the end of the day."
He could feel Pepper's smile. "Absolutely. They've confirmed their calendars have already been cleared too."
Tony rolled over, pulling Pepper close to him. With her having all this part of the mess under control, and the kid and his bodyguard not arriving until eleven, Tony had all morning to reexamine the footage of the mysterious man's arrival. He had to get ahead of the powers — or tech — the man used and, if nothing else, it served as a worthwhile distraction from his personal life.
"I don't deserve you, you know," he whispered into Pepper's ear.
Her body relaxed and, with a grin, she said over her shoulder, "No, you really don't."
Chapter 5: Avengers Tower
Notes:
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(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
That night, Harry didn't sleep. He couldn't after Snape stormed into their motel room well after midnight and announced that they'd be meeting Tony Stark and Pepper Potts in the morning before heading off to the bathroom without saying a word about what had happened during his 'mission'; why the sudden change in plans, or what to expect at Avengers Tower? A moment later, Harry heard the shower start — yet another too human act of Snape's that Harry pretended not to notice — and knew not to ask questions when the man emerged roughly thirty minutes later.
So, unable to settle his mind enough to sleep, Harry resigned himself to tossing and turning in his bed all night. Snape didn't seem to have the same problem. Apparently, whatever he refused to talk about had worn the man down and, for the first time since they arrived in the dodgy motel, as soon as his head hit the pillow, his quiet, rhythmic breathing filled their small room.
Each hour brought a fresh wave of emotions that Harry tried to bury under the surface. First was his friends. He missed them, and even if he only received one letter from Hermione, being deliberately cut off from them for the first time since they met was more difficult than he anticipated. Then there was Sirius… As the first adult who actually prioritized Harry above his own needs, deep down, Harry understood why his godfather sent him away. And so regardless of how badly Harry wanted to be in London with him — and fight Voldemort alongside him — Harry also knew that if they had any hope of being a family, he had to survive first.
His feelings surrounding Snape fell into their own increasingly complicated category. Questions like 'why does he really want to help me' and 'how do I know I can trust him' were constantly plaguing him. Sure, the letter from his mum mentioned they'd been friends in school, but something still felt off about the whole thing. He felt like he was missing something… something vital.
Finally, there was the hippogriff in the room, his biological father. That topic immediately sent Harry's stomach churning; so much so that until then, he deliberately avoided the subject altogether. But now that he knew he would meet the man in less than twelve hours, he forced himself to confront the situation and his emotions about it. Emotions never were Harry's strong suit. He blamed it on living with the Dursleys. It would have been so easy for Harry to sink into a pit of despair at living in the cupboard, but rather than pitying himself, he ignored it all. It was simply the hand he'd been dealt — nothing more, nothing less. Except laying there on his rock-hard bed, staring at the stained ceiling as the minutes ticked by, he wished he knew how to deal with all the questions, and their accompanying feelings, swimming around in his head.
What will the meeting be like? It was easy to assume they'd do some sort of paternity test. Someone like Tony Stark wouldn't accept their word without verifying it himself. What if their test revealed his mother had made a mistake? Would Tony Stark sigh with relief as he shoved them out the door? Where would Harry go after that? Certainly not back to the Dursleys.
But what if they were right? What would his father say to him? Would he be excited about having a teenage son? Or would he feel disappointed at being weighed down with the burden of a child? Not that Harry had high expectations of the man. Or really any expectations at all. Harry had been caring for himself since he could walk. If he managed without a father for all those years, he didn't need one now. No. He merely needed a safe place to stay while Dumbledore, Sirius, and Snape worked out Voldemort's mysterious plans. He had no reason to become attached or attempt to form any semblance of a bond because the moment Sirius deemed Harry safe, he would be on his way back to London. This was all only temporary. Sirius was Harry's family, the only one he needed. Those were the exact phrases Harry told himself whenever he considered the ridiculous idea of actually starting a life with his biological father.
After falling asleep around four in the morning, Harry awoke to the smells of breakfast: a styrofoam container filled with cold eggs, sausage, and thick American pancakes. Since the day they arrived, Snape insisted on using as little magic as possible, so Harry didn't bother asking for a warming charm and ate his breakfast cold; even though he was sure he had seen Snape reheat his tea the other day.
"When are we leaving?" Harry asked Snape, who, yet again, sat at the rickety table to eat. This time he was sorting papers into three separate piles. By Harry's count, they seemed evenly distributed until he placed one out of every five into a folder on his right.
"As soon as you memorize your cover story," Snape grumbled at him and tossed a different folder from the other side of the table directly at Harry's feet on the bed.
By now, Harry was well familiar with the folder. It contained all the details about Harry's new life. Some were genuine, like his original birth certificate and his new passport, and others fabricated by Snape, such as his school records at a boarding school not named Hogwarts. He'd been studying the stupid thing for days and could confidently recite almost everything in it by heart.
"I have memorized it." Harry tossed the folder back at the professor, ducking his head when it caused one of Snape's paper piles to nearly fall over. "My name is Harry Anthony Evans, and I was born on 31 July 1998. I lived with my mum, Lily Evans, and my step-father, James Potter, in Chard, England until they died on Halloween of 1999. From there, I then went to live with my mum's sister's family, the Dursleys, in Little Whinging. No one had any reason to believe James Potter was not my biological father. I go to Stirlingshire Academy, an exclusive boarding school in Scotland where I've been going since I was accepted at age eleven. Oh… and there is absolutely nothing freakish about me."
"Potter!"
"Sorry, sir." Harry grinned, satisfied to have gotten the reaction he wanted out of Snape. "You're a bit uptight today, don't you think?"
Snape turned and gave Harry a seething gaze that clearly said 'you are only alive because I vowed not to kill you'. Harry wondered how deep that vow went. There had to be a breaking point somewhere, but he didn't exactly want to find out where that was. Get close to it, yes… but not cross the line.
"You seem to forget how my life depends on you telling this story convincingly," Snape pointed out. "The details matter, big and small."
Harry had not, in fact, forgotten it; not with how often Snape reminded him. Sure, Snape had done most of the work while Harry sat in a warehouse, then on a plane, and now in a smelly motel room. But Harry had just as much to lose if Voldemort found him. Therefore, Snape really should trust him taking it over from here.
Packing up his belongings had been quick, more so than leaving Privet Drive, seeing as he didn't bother to unpack. All he needed to do was throw his toothbrush into his bag and demand his cloak from Snape, who took way too long in Harry's opinion to return it. He shoved it safely at the bottom of his bag when a thought popped into his mind.
"What about magic?" Harry asked. Snape was also packing his things up, probably to stay at the Tower with Harry for at least a few days to make sure he didn't drop the Boy-Who-Lived off with a bunch of murderers; which, technically, the Avengers were… just sanctioned ones.
"Simple. Don't do it."
Harry rolled his eyes, thankful to be facing away from Snape as he did it. "Obviously. But can Tony know about it? Hermione's parents do, so there has to be some kind of exception for parents, right? How does that work in the United States? Am I supposed to be registered or something? If I'm not, will they even know if I do magic here? Can they report it back to the British–"
"It is safer for you if no one knows about magic and you do not do magic," Snape said, putting an end to Harry's anxious rant. "For transparency purposes, I had a minor… incident… last night that required a silent Petrificus."
"You petrified him?!" Harry shouted. In his shock, his filled backpack slid off his shoulder with an umph. "How do I explain that?"
"You don't."
Snape heaved his duffle beside Harry's and gave the room a thorough once-over. Satisfied they weren't leaving anything behind, he opened the door and gestured for Harry to leave. Harry didn't move. If he was about to waltz into a disaster, he deserved to know it.
"I will remedy the issue today," Snape sharply stated. "You will not be responsible for my oversight."
Snape's oversight? No wonder he was so grumpy last night.
"Are you going to obliviate him?!" Harry asked, anxious on behalf of the biological father he hadn't even met yet. "You can't do that!"
Snape let out a hard sigh and slammed the door shut. "Do you really think I am stupid enough to use magic to cover up magic use?" Harry took the question as rhetorical. The correct decision as Snape continued his lecture, "I have a sufficient potion to do the job—higher classification of the forgetfulness potion you learned in first year—and the intelligence to know how to use it properly. Now grab your bag and get your arse out the door!"
Seeing the 'do not cross' line approaching, Harry slung his suddenly much heavier bag over his shoulder and walked out the door.
The journey to Avengers Tower, in a place called Midtown and Manhattan, was an adventure in and of itself. In keeping with their muggle transportation plans, Snape arranged for a car to pick them up down the street from their motel. Harry spent most of the nearly hour-long ride equally terrified of the driving and in awe of the New York skyline as they crossed the bridge into Manhattan. Manhattan, unlike Queens, looked just like Harry had seen on the telly, and for that portion of the drive, his excitement drowned his fears out. Excitement for what? He didn't really know. Aside from school, this was his first trip anywhere, and the buzz of the city made the entire experience feel like an adventure.
All of that changed as the car dropped them off near the entrance to the tallest, nicest, and most futuristic structure Harry had ever seen. Looming high into the sky, it was made mostly of glass and featured a large A toward the top, next to what appeared to be a landing pad. It was more intimidating than any of the pictures Harry had seen of it in the magazines. Suddenly, between the impending meeting of one of his parents — a literal dream he used to have as a child and had long abandoned — and the idea of real-life superheroes living in this building, his feet refused to work.
"Evans," Snape grumbled at him, but Harry was frozen in place on the sidewalk, his neck craned up towards the sky. "Evans, get moving…. Evans…. Evans!"
"I heard you the first time," Harry snapped, a lump in his throat quickly forming. "I just… I need a minute."
Snape let out a harsh groan, which did not go unnoticed and was unappreciated. "What is the issue now? Not that you care, however, we are about to be late."
"I do care!" Harry yelled at him, and once those words left his lips, more began spilling out, completely bypassing his brain's warning of how bad of an idea it was to share with Snape. "I just… I… what if he doesn't like me? He's a genius…. And he's a superhero. He flew a bomb into outer space! Through a hole in the sky that he didn't know a single thing about before he did it. And here I am, running away from my problems… hiding."
With a muttered 'I can't deal with this' under his breath, Snape aggressively yanked Harry by the upper arm to the side of the building's entrance. Standing above Harry, he made the teenager feel even smaller next to the massive building.
"The stone," Snape whispered to him with his jaw tightly clenched. Ignoring Harry's confused expression, he continued to count each event on his fingers as he spoke. "The chamber. The bloody basilisk. Black, then a werewolf, then a hoard of dementors. The entire tournament last year that you could have likely gotten away with simply refusing to take part in. Trust me, you are certainly not a genius–" Harry opened his mouth to defend himself, but Snape instantly cut him off, "–however, you do share this man's propensity for running into dangerous situations without a lick of self-preservation.
"Yes, you are choosing to remove yourself from this battle. This one is not yours to fight. If you can live long enough, I am sure you will find plenty more in your life. Now, get in the damn door or I will shove you through it."
Taken aback by Snape's somewhat insulting speech, Harry wasted no time in rushing into the building and to the security checkpoint with Snape's hand firmly clutching his shoulder the entire way. Snape made a small motion with his head to tell Harry to place his backpack on the conveyor belt, just as they had done at the airport in London. Although Harry breezed through the metal detector with no issues, the archway sounded at Snape, forcing the security guard to sweep a separate wand across his chest, over his arms, and between his legs. Snape's deathly glare was the only thing keeping Harry from bursting out laughing.
Any humor Harry might have found at the sight of the security agent patting down Snape vanished when he finally saw the lobby. Harry couldn't take his eyes away from the spectacular four-story interior, which was covered in glass on almost every surface and walkway. The same wall of windows that had reflected like a mirror from the outside was now broadcasting a variety of close-captioned news and sports channels. There were white and black leather couches and chairs set in different arrangements throughout the room; some faced the television windows, while others formed smaller circles across the waiting area. A table in the center of the room held a stack of current magazines, including titles covering topics from women's interests, international news, celebrity gossip, and even a few kids' activity books and crayons. Three large glass chandeliers hung above the immaculately tiled floor, making the room feel more like a futuristic Gringotts than anyone's home — certainly not Harry's.
A short corridor to Harry's right led past a long reception desk that divided the public areas from the network of glass walkways to a row of white lifts with red numbers illuminated above them. Each door also had an exterior keypad, ensuring no one entered or exited the building undetected. Contrary to its recent name change, according to the massive Stark Industries logo on the wall behind the registration desk, the Avengers Tower contained at least some part of the Stark Industries offices.
"Welcome to Stark Industries," the redheaded woman behind the desk said. She was typing on a keyboard slimmer than any Dudley had, and until he heard the soft clicking sounds as she typed, Harry figured it was just lights on the desk. "Do you have an appointment today?" she inquired, her gaze remained fixed on the screen.
Snape cleared his throat. "Yes. My name is Severus. This is Harry Evans. We have an appointment with Pepper Potts."
One of their names must have caught her attention because her eyes snapped up to them and she gave Snape a slow once over before repeating the action with Harry. Looking around the room, Harry had to admit they looked out of place: a man dressed in a long black coat over a black plain shirt, jeans, and a pair of boots with a teenager dressed in an ill-fitted, nearly threadbare gray T-shirt and jeans with a hole in the knees, both carrying bags over their shoulders. In the pristine atmosphere of Stark Industries, asking for the person he knew was the CEO, Harry would not have believed them either.
If she noticed anything out of the ordinary about them, she said nothing. She simply pushed a few keys on the keyboard, paused, and clicked a bunch more before waving to a row of chairs, informing them to take a seat and that someone would be right with them. Whether this 'someone' was Pepper Potts or security escorting them out, she didn't say.
Harry attempted to sit in a chair facing the outer windows, to pretend to watch the baseball game playing on the screen, but Snape redirected him to a set of unoccupied chairs perpendicular to the lifts and windows. A strategic choice, obviously, to allow Snape to see nearly every area of the room
Harry passed the time aimlessly flipping through a sports magazine, wishing it was the Quidditch Times with the latest news on the Chudley Cannons upset that Ron had scribbled in at the end of Hermione's letter. Harry knew very little about American Sports other than they referred to football as soccer. He hoped Tony wouldn't ask him too many questions about them. Or, if he did, he blamed Harry's poor knowledge on his British heritage.
Given Stark Industries' prominence to the city, and apparently the country and world, their lobby felt unusually quiet. Based on the number of chairs and the seven workstations at the reception desk, he expected to see a slew of people coming and going — employees arriving for work on any of the tens of floors, deliveries to this department or that, and visitors for any number of reasons — yet Harry and Snape were the only ones waiting there. How come two people who had no business being anywhere near this place until yesterday were the only ones visiting at this exact moment? Had they intentionally cleared the building? Did Tony Stark or Pepper Potts think they were dangerous?
"Mr. Snape?"
A woman's voice coming from the lift corridor interrupted Harry's thoughts before he had the chance to answer himself. Probably for the best.
Miss Potts appeared just as Harry expected based on the news report he read on the airplane all about her promotion to CEO of Stark Industries. She had the perfect balance of being a serious and down-to-earth businesswoman, with her long red hair tied in a loose twist at the nape of her neck. She wore a short-sleeved white blouse over a sophisticated gray skirt, paired with black heels that Harry couldn't fathom walking in. Stopping short of approaching them in the waiting area, she offered them a polite handshake as they met her between the lifts and the front desk. Notably, the woman who had checked them in was no longer there.
"Severus, please," Snape replied, shaking her hand as he spoke.
"Severus, then."
Harry, standing alongside Snape, tried to lighten the tension by shrugging one shoulder up and joking, "You're lucky. He makes me call him Professor or Sir."
"You must be Harry. The boy of the hour. It's a pleasure to meet you," she said, her gentle smile sending the same warm, pleasant feeling through Harry as Mrs. Weasley's and reassuring him he could trust her. "I'm Virginia Potts, but everyone calls me Pepper."
While waiting for the lift, Pepper informed them they would be in Bio-Lab 12 on the 62nd floor, where a doctor named Bruce Banner had already set up for the paternity test. Harry wondered why they needed a medical doctor on staff, but the lift doors opened at the swipe of Pepper's card and they were on their way. Harry had never been in a building this high before, and his stomach sank watching the number rise.
"How high up does this go?" Harry nervously asked as they passed the 30th floor.
Pepper clasped her hands in front of her, turning slightly to face Harry. "The Tower has 93 floors, plus a garage and multiple subfloors underground. Up to floor 78 are all for Stark Industries, however, any floor above 55 is private and therefore requires a code to access. Dr. Banner's personal lab is on floor 75 and is only accessible to him and Tony.
"This bank of elevators goes up to the 78th floor, serving all the floors of Stark Industries. Additionally, we have several freight elevators that can go to specific floors to make it easier to deliver parts, supplies, and equipment. There is another set of elevators on the East side of the building for floors 81 to 93," she rattled off, all the while holding herself steady and professional. The only slip in her CEO demeanor occurred when she spoke to Snape, accusingly stating, "The elevator you managed to use last night is only for Tony and me to access our private floors."
Even though she didn't explicitly say which floors were their private ones, through the process of elimination, Harry figured out those were 79 and 80. Hopefully, if Pepper had been regurgitating information found in any public database, she realized the flaw in their security.
They traveled faster than Harry thought it would take to go up sixty-two floors and suddenly, whether or not Harry felt ready, they came to a halt. The walls of the Biological Laboratory floor, designed in the same futurist style as the rest of the tower he had seen so far, were mostly clear glass, which Pepper assured him could become opaque for privacy at the touch of a button. At the very least, no one could spy on Harry from the windows throughout this entire ordeal; not that he saw a single soul as they navigated the maze of corridors to reach Bio-Lab Number 12.
Despite what Harry had imagined all night, it was not like any doctor's office he had seen as a child. For starters, the room was enormous; it could easily fit the entire bottom floor of the Dursleys' house. There was a patient table for Harry to sit on and a chair for Snape, but that was where the similarities ended. Beyond the patient table, there were three additional metal tables filled with computers, technology and equipment Harry didn't recognize, and a variety of tubes, bottles, vials, and medical supplies. It appeared as a perfectly organized mess, without a single scrap of paper anywhere, with everything computerized. Harry sat at a table facing a giant mirror on the right wall, where he could see himself, Snape in the chair in front of him, and Pepper typing on her phone behind him.
As soon as Harry scooted himself up on the table, the outside door swung open, and two men entered — one stockier in a black suit and the other looking timid in a white lab coat. Without waiting for the door to close, the first man flipped a switch next to it, making the window panel opaque and blocking the view of the corridor and, by extension, Harry.
"Harry Evans?" the man in the lab coat asked. He placed the clipboard he brought onto the small cart to Harry's left and offered his hand out. "My name is Dr. Banner. You can call me Bruce. I'll be taking your samples today."
Harry was about to introduce himself when the man in the suit interrupted him. "Happy Hogan. Security."
Harry smiled at the irony of a man named Happy who, second to Snape, had the world's grumpiest face.
"Happy, is this really necessary?" Pepper argued, but Happy merely nodded and stood, his hands clasped in front of him, motionless between Snape and the mirror.
"So, Harry," Dr. Banner said, officially kicking off the meeting — or appointment, Harry wasn't sure what it was exactly. His tone was calm, but more unsure than Pepper's. Still, Harry took an instant liking to him. "Did anyone explain what we're going to be doing today?"
Four pairs of eyes blinked at him like he was some kind of experiment they were watching; waiting to see if he'd explode or something.
"Erm, not really," Harry admitted. "I know my mum had a letter and in it she said Mr. Stark and her… uh… that he… they…"
Fortunately, Bruce didn't make him finish his uncomfortable explanation, stopping him by explaining how they would use Harry's DNA and compare it to Tony's to determine whether Tony was his father. To be sure, they would use two different methods: first by swabbing Harry's cheek and then by drawing his blood. To Harry's surprise, Bruce asked for his consent for the procedure. While Harry wasn't keen on giving his blood, he nodded after a brief glance at Snape sitting in the corner with his arms securely crossed over his chest. Once they had the samples, the computer would do all the work and give them a "yes or no" answer. That was really all Harry needed to know about it; not any of the complicated science Bruce described.
"I know I dumped a lot of information on you," Bruce ended with. "Do you have any questions before I take the samples?"
Again, four pairs of eyes waited for Harry to say something. "Uh, just one I guess?"
Snape's eyes narrowed at him, a silent do not screw this up shared between them.
Bruce pulled on a pair of dark purple gloves. "Of course. What is it?
"Erm…" Harry's face flushed. "Where is Mr. Stark?"
Three out of the four sets of eyes turned towards the mirror. Apparently, he'd been watching them this whole time.
The guard — Happy, Harry's brain helpfully supplied — responded first, "For security reasons–"
Out of nowhere, a secret door on the mirror's side swung open, and the man Harry had been obsessively studying for days strutted out, the door softly closing behind him.
The man who was approaching him with caution, though, was not the well-put-together man Harry had seen in the photos. Gone were the crisp high-end business suit and tie, the bright eyes, and the perfectly sculpted facial hair, replaced by a man roughly Harry's height wearing a pair of well-loved blue jeans and a tight plain black t-shirt over a long-sleeved white shirt; the black color drawing Harry's attention to the circle of intense blue light emanating from the center of his chest. He appeared fit compared to Harry's scrawny body, but he needed to be in order to fight aliens and other bad guys. It seemed he slept as little as Harry last night with the shows under each eye and his facial hair overgrown by at least a day or so.
"Here I am. But, please, call me Tony. Harry, I take it?" Tony spoke a little too confidently, in Harry's opinion, but earned a chuckle from the teen when he gave a sideways glance at Snape and muttered, "Nice to see you again, Count."
Harry sat up taller. "Yes, Mr… erm… Tony. I'm Harry Evans."
Tony stood in front of him, eyes locked. And if Harry had expected some kind of soothing words, he was gravely mistaken. "You're big."
"Tony!" Pepper gave a small shake of her head.
Taken aback, Harry frowned. This wasn't really the first impression he'd hoped for. "Well, I am almost fifteen, you know. Not five."
Tony chuckled. "And you're British, too." He picked up the clipboard Bruce brought in and began flipping through the sheets of paper too fast to actually read anything on them. "Which I knew, of course, and somehow the accent still caught me off guard. It's one of the nice ones, though. Because as I'm sure you know, there are a lot of different versions of the accent over there. Not unlike this side of the pond. I hear Minnesota is a fun accent to follow if you've never heard it before… and then the Southern one has an excellent reputation as long as it doesn't cross the redneck line. There's New York, naturally, which you'll hear a lot if our little experiment–"
"Tony!" Pepper exclaimed, proverbially putting her foot down. "I think that's enough."
The more he talked, though, the more Harry thought he was brilliant and his chattiness eased any lingering anxiety he had about meeting Tony Stark. Perhaps that was something they had in common.
Unfazed by Pepper's reprimanding, Tony asked Bruce, "So when is this party starting? Grab some samples and put my tech to work."
"Your tech?" Harry asked, his interest piqued, as Bruce rolled the cart with two swabs, two tubes with yellow tops, what looked like an empty syringe, and a giant rubber band wrap to Harry's side. "You have a medical department?"
Harry opened his mouth when instructed, allowing Bruce to run the two swabs along the inside of both of his cheeks. The simple part was done.
"Of course we do. There's an entire division devoted to medical research. Everything from monitoring devices to equipment. No pharmacy though. Biochem was never my thing," Tony said. Using his foot, he rolled a stool to sit on Harry's right, drawing Harry's attention away from the blood draw prep on his left arm. "My tech runs most of this building, and the percentage is growing every year. Even the electricity comes from my reactor in one of the subfloors."
"Sounds like you have some trust issues." Harry winced at the small prick on the inside of his elbow. "What if you need something you don't have built already?"
"Then I don't see him for weeks at a time," Pepper answered for him, her tone serious.
Tony smiled up at her. "Days, yes… maybe a week… at most. There's a reason my workshop is close to home." Returning to Harry, he added, "And I said almost everything was mine. Obviously, there are some exceptions, but this is not one of them."
Bruce secured a small cotton ball in the crook of Harry's arm with a bandage. Harry's part was officially done. They had his DNA; now it was Tony's turn, and they would leave the rest to the computers. Except Bruce began cleaning up the medical supplies, not prepping for Tony's samples, and Tony whispered something into Pepper's ear.
"Wait, what about Tony?" Harry blurted out. "Aren't you going to swab his cheek and draw his blood? You said the computer needed something to compare mine to, right?"
Bruce's eyes shifted between Harry and Tony and back. "Oh, uh… the computer already has Tony's DNA on file."
"It does? Why?" Harry asked. "Do you get this a lot? People trying to pawn their children onto you?"
Tony scoffed. "Not as often as you'd think, given my history of–"
Pepper's loud, and obviously fake, cough changed his direction.
"Oh, right," Tony corrected himself. Harry figured he'd drop the subject and was surprised when Tony continued, "Well, you see… I'm kind of a high-profile person with a unique and dangerous job. Mine's not the only one in the database. All the Avengers have our DNA on file on the slightly higher chance they may need to identify–"
"Tony!" Pepper yelled. Clearly Tony had crossed Pepper's invisible line.
Snape finally spoke up. "How do we know you're using the correct comparison and not switching them on the computer? You took two samples from Harry to be satisfied, but we are to believe the DNA you claim is on file is correct?"
"You know what? Dracula has a point." Tony pointed at Snape a second before promptly sitting down on the stool. He rolled up his white shirt sleeve and held his arm out to Bruce. "C'mon on, Brucie, I'll give another sample. Satisfy all parties here. Then we'll order lunch while we wait. I hope you all like Thai because there's an amazing little place around the corner where we order from a lot."
For the first time since meeting Tony, Harry got the impression he expected the results to be positive, and possibly even be happy about it. His demeanor seamlessly shifted from an anxious giddiness to a composed and collected calmness as they discussed the latest project in the medical division — an upgraded piece of equipment to help expedite blood culturing in septic patients. The installation in the first round of hospitals was happening next month. Between the passion in Tony's eyes as he spoke and the fire in his eyes, Harry knew it would be the stepping stone to something life-changing. If the paternity results were positive, he desperately wished he could tell Hermione, if only to tell her all about the great things that Stark Industries was capable of.
Unlike Harry, Tony refused to let Bruce bandage up the cotton ball. Instead, he tossed the fluffy ball into the red biohazard bin after dabbing it only twice on the pinprick hole and didn't bother to even check the area again before leading them upstairs to a conference room on the 76th floor, which appeared rather ordinary — or boring, in Tony's quite outspoken opinion — compared to the rest of the building.
In the center of the room, a massive wooden table was surrounded by at least thirty padded rolling chairs. A row of windows overlooking Central Park ran the length of the outside wall. Harry took a seat in the middle of the table to look out the window. It seemed strange to be so high in the air while confined inside; not as liberating as flying, but also not as scary as the lift ride to the Bio-Lab. Snape took the seat on Harry's right, while Tony and Pepper sat across from them, creating an intimate space in the large, impersonal room. Despite being invited to join them, Happy remained at the end of the table closest to the door, whether for privacy or security reasons, Harry couldn't tell from their brief conversation.
When Harry said he had never tried Thai food, Tony went crazy and ordered at least one of everything on the menu. The food arrived directly at the conference room, and it was more than enough to feed all of Gryffindor. They settled into a nice cadence of passing around boxes filled with names of dishes Harry had no possibility of remembering, although he genuinely enjoyed most of them.
The memorization of Harry's cover story was put to the test as they ate and waited for the results. Given that the story was mostly based on his real life, Harry hadn't been too concerned about remembering it; the most significant changes being the name of his boarding school and his surname. Snape had been adamant about not mentioning the name Potter at all and was convinced Tony wouldn't be interested in his mother's marriage now that they were both deceased.
Unfortunately, Harry's nervousness took over as question after question was thrown at him and, much to his dismay, he found himself turning to Snape as he answered them. They began with lighter topics, mostly asked by Pepper, like Harry's favorite color — red and gold, coincidentally or not, the same color scheme as Iron Man —, his favorite sports, and his favorite school subject, and gradually progressed to more serious topics such as who he lived with before becoming Snape's ward, how his parents had died, and whether he remembered his them at all. Right as the questioning veered into interrogation territory — why does he call Snape 'professor', followed immediately by why didn't Harry know about his mother's 'good friend' until he went to school? — a voice above Harry startled him, nearly knocking him out of his chair.
"Sir, Dr. Banner has asked me to inform you that the results are ready," the mystery voice announced. "Would you like me to send them to you?"
Harry looked up and around him, confused about where the British voice was coming from.
"That's JARVIS," Tony explained, and to Harry's still baffled expression, he added, "it stands for Just A Rather Very Intelligent System. He's my AI and controls almost everything in the building, including sections of Stark Industries. He's available anywhere within these walls, and after you get to know him, you'll wonder how you ever lived without him.
"And yet you ignore so many of my disclaimers, sir."
"Kind of cheeky for a computer," Harry stated.
Tony's brows raised. "Don't insult him like that. JARVIS is so much more than just a computer. He's… well, you'll have to see for yourself." He nodded toward the screen at the end of the table. "Jay, pull up the results on screen three in conference room ten."
Nothing happened. The transparent screen remained empty.
"Jay?" Tony prodded. "Results. Screen three. Conference room ten."
Another thirty seconds passed with nothing changing before JARVIS cautioned, "Dr. Banner has suggested you review the results first."
Without warning, Harry's heart rate spiked. What had they discovered that prevented them from sharing the results? From Harry's, albeit limited, understanding, the answer should either be yes or no. They could probably even simplify it more with a green check for yes and a red "X" for no, for all Harry cared. What if it could detect his magic in his DNA? Why hadn't they thought of that before now?
"Put 'em up," Tony commanded his invisible assistant. "I don't want any barriers."
After a few seconds, the screen came to life, revealing a rather confusing chart with Harry's name at the top of one column and Tony's above the other. There were numbers under each of their names. Since none of them meant anything to Harry, his eyes traveled straight to the bottom and landed on the little bold text that read:
"Probably of Paternity 99.998%"
Notes:
Finally brought father and son together, but it'll take a few more chapters for them to warm up to each other.
A/N: I'm going to try to update once/month or post a chapter after I write a chapter (whichever comes first). The polish/editing process is long without a beta, but I'm going to try to be diligent with it and stay motivated to edit.
Chapter 6: Welcome Home
Notes:
Thank you everyone for the comments, favorites/subscribes, and kudos! Here we see Harry get a little more settled.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
As he stared at the text on the screen in front of him, Harry's entire world appeared to spin around it. According to those words, Tony Stark was his father. His flesh and blood. Harry was no longer an orphan and had never truly been one. A million thoughts raced through his mind. What exactly did it mean to have a living parent? Did this give Tony complete control over Harry's life? Could Tony prevent him from returning to London to live with Sirius? Could he stop him from attending Hogwarts in the fall? And Harry had never been a son before. What if he didn't live up to Tony's expectations for his son? What if he messed up? How would Tony punish him if he made a mistake, which was inevitable? What if Tony turned out to be worse than Uncle Vernon?
Nobody at the table had the answer to those searing questions. And even if they did, Harry didn't dare to ask them. He'd keep his head down, stay out of Voldemort's reach, and deal with Hogwarts and Sirius later. That was what Snape had told him, anyway. Living here had been the plan all along, so he should be pleased with the results on the screen. Except he found himself more confused about how he felt than happy.
"Well, there we go." Tony pointed his phone at the screen and, with a tiny wave, the report jumped — for lack of a better word — onto the device. Almost like magic. "We will, of course, make sure you get a copy of the final results," he added, turning to Snape. "Is there somewhere for me to send it? Or would you prefer it printed?"
Tony's casual tone took Harry aback, sounding almost bored, as if the outcome did not matter to him at all. As if the results hadn't just changed both of their lives forever. How could he simply… move on like business as usual? Snape, on the other hand, looked at Harry with an expression on his face that Harry had never seen before. Relief, perhaps? This made sense. The professor was finally getting rid of Harry for an undefined, but potentially significant, period of time. Not counting the whole double spy component, Snape's life was about to get easier.
"Printed, please. I have also prepared the papers to transfer custody," the professor said. The lack of emotion in his words practically confirmed that he considered Harry as nothing more than a duty he was happy to pass on. That life was easier without Harry.
"Perfect." Tony stretched his arms, cracking the knuckles in his hands as they moved. "Let's get this ball rolling."
Harry, who had yet to say anything, watched Snape retrieve one of the folders he was shoveling papers into at the hotel. This whole time he'd been preparing for Harry's what? Adoption? Could someone be adopted by his biological father?
"Harry?" Pepper's voice jolted the teen out of his anxious thoughts, and when he blinked, the suddenly claustrophobic conference room appeared. Her sympathetic smile helped his brain regain oxygen, allowing him to hear her ask, "What do you say we go get you settled upstairs while Tony and Severus meet with the lawyers? Trust me, it'll be better than sitting through the boring paperwork. Tony and Severus can meet us there when they're done. Does that sound alright?
Harry nodded, coming to his senses. "Yeah, that sounds great." Turning to Snape, he asked, "Is there anything I need to be there for?"
Harry, unable to make any big decisions in his current state, let out a deep, grateful breath as Snape's head shook from side to side.
Unfortunately, his relief was cut short when Tony scanned the documents and said, "Your name. The papers ask if a name change is being requested."
Harry swallowed down the burning bile threatening to rise up his throat. Were they expecting him to walk out of there as Harry Stark? Or was he supposed to say Harry Evans? And would whichever name he chose erase Harry Potter? Was he ever Harry Potter? Seeing Harry Evans on his birth certificate and new passport was one thing. He pretended those documents belonged to someone else entirely. Even introducing himself as Harry Evans hadn't necessarily felt wrong, either. It was almost like he was playing a game, and he knew his identity was still Harry Potter. But now they were waiting for him to decide his identity: Harry James Potter, Harry Anthony Evans, or, he supposed, Harry Anthony Stark if he wanted it.
Misunderstanding Harry's silence, Tony said, "Listen, kid, I'd love nothing more than for you to be a Stark. Really. I know that a lot of shit has happened in not a lot of time and we both… we probably need a moment to adjust… talk… see a therapist… but I want you to know if you want to take the Stark last name, I want that too.
"And if you want to stay Harry Evans, that's cool too," he hurriedly added. "I get it. It's the name you grew up with, it connects you to your mother. I won't be offended. And if you want to think about it more, that's another option. We can keep things as they are and see how you feel in a few months, a year, or never. There is no pressure from me on this. Got it?"
No, Harry didn't think he got it. He didn't want to change his name to either of those options. In his heart, he wanted to remain Harry James Potter — how else did they expect him to honor the man who died protecting him knowing they were not related? — but one glance at Snape told him there was a right answer, and Harry James Potter was not it. He was in hiding, after all. This also meant Stark was a bad idea too, leaving him with the pseudonym he walked into all of this mess with.
"Harry Evans," he finally said. Clearing his throat, he repeated louder, "I want to stay Harry Anthony Evans… for now."
Despite Tony's promise to accept whatever name Harry selected, the hurt in his brown eyes was clear. Did he really expect Harry to change his name because a piece of paper said they were related? If Snape said Voldemort would instantly die if Harry changed his name to Dursley, he would still refuse, choosing to die rather than take their last name. They were horrible people, and how could Harry know Tony would not be like them? The circumstances were disturbingly similar: a child being dumped at his doorstep. Did it matter whether the kid was almost an adult? Or his son? Harry didn't think so.
Nobody asked him for his input on anything else, so Harry gratefully followed Pepper out of the conference room. They passed the lifts they had used when leaving the Bio-Lab — where they now saw three men and two women exiting, all carrying briefcases and walking towards the conference room — and proceeded to a single lift on the far outside wall.
Pepper scanned her badge and pressed her thumb onto the keypad to the right of the lift door. "This goes up to our apartment and the Avengers floors. Happy will set you up with your credentials, which he will code to the precise floors you're permitted to be on. Sorry, only the places appropriate for a fourteen-year-old."
Almost fifteen, Harry thought to himself. Not that it really mattered. Given what, and who, else the Tower housed, he assumed the type of floors she referred to were confidential, dangerous, or both.
Throughout the short ride up to the eightieth floor, Pepper did all the talking. She stated that most of the other full-time occupants of the tower were out "working". They had been gone for about a week but were due home any day. Harry didn't ask what "working" entailed, and Pepper didn't elaborate.
Unlike the other corridors where the lifts dropped Harry off, each of which had at least two halls branching from it, this lift opened to a small landing. With simply a mirror and a tiny table directly in front of the lifts and four doors, one on each side of the lift and one at either end of the landing, it was far from the luxuriousness Harry imagined after seeing what he considered were the more boring areas of the Tower.
"Tony added the vestibule in the rebuild," Pepper offered, as if reading his mind. "He's very security conscious and didn't like the elevator opening up straight into our home. It took some deliberation about how to design it all, and in the end, it cut the space in our home almost in half," she pointed to the plain door on the right side of the landing — whatever lay beyond it also belonged to them, "but it's worth it for his peace of mind."
Harry remained silent as he followed her to the right-hand door, where a wreath of white and yellow daisies hung as a welcome sign. Another biometric keypad sat on the side of the door, and Pepper opened it with a tap of her finger, again promising Harry his own codes soon.
If the blandness of the vestibule had underwhelmed Harry, then their actual home more than made up for it. Harry entered his new home in awe, much as he had when he first walked into Hogwarts' Great Hall, feeling a little out of place in his worn sneakers, thinned-out jeans, and too-large shirt. A guest bathroom and laundry room were located at the beginning of a long corridor off the entrance, but Harry was too captivated by the floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall windows directly in front of him to notice them. Enamored by the sight, he walked straight to the living room windows, stopping only inches away to take in the breathtaking views of the city. From here, watching the impossibly tiny cars below him, he could almost forget about everything else in his equally impossibly chaotic life.
"It's such a gorgeous city," Pepper said, startling him, for which she quickly apologized. "The sunset is beautiful from here, but there's a spot upstairs that, in my opinion, beats it with little competition."
Harry gave her a sideways glance. "You're a little biased, don't you think?"
Pepper smirked. "Maybe a bit."
The rest of the living room was as impressive as the view. With so much natural light streaming in through the wall of glass windows, he easily forgot they were within a tower rather than a house on the ground. An extravagant fireplace on one wall had a television above it that would make Dudley cry. According to Pepper, it had "pretty much any movie or video game available" because Tony enjoyed watching movies on the big screen on the weekends and always had the video games on hand for when Rhodey — Tony's best friend, whom Harry would meet soon — visited. All Harry had to do was tell JARVIS the name of the movie or game he wanted, and the AI would make it happen. Harry didn't play video games or watch movies, but Pepper seemed excited about it, so he let her believe whatever she wanted.
Two remarkably comfortable looking cream-colored sofas were perpendicular to the fireplace, with a dark wooden coffee table between them, all on top of a rug that looked like it'd be soft on bare feet. The coffee table held a series of books on the lowest shelf, along with a few puzzle boxes Pepper mentioned she did occasionally. Across from the sofas and fireplace was a workstation with computer screens on a large desk and a small rolling chair. Pepper claimed that was where Tony worked on his "I can't stop thinking about this project, but I need to be home" projects. Based on her clipped tone, it sounded like Tony worked there more than Pepper liked, possibly explaining the readily available puzzle boxes.
A glass dining table with ten red plush seats separated the living area from the large open kitchen opposite the wall of windows. Oddly enough, the table was already set for three, complete with ceramic white plates, silverware, and glass goblets. Beyond the table, an island made of a white and dark gray speckled countertop held the sink and five high-backed black stools on one side, creating a more casual eating spot. Along the back wall sat the stainless-steel refrigerator, stove, and oven, and the white cabinetry throughout gave it a professional appearance. Although Pepper mentioned they usually either ordered in food or ate in the Avenger's shared kitchen upstairs, when she pushed on the cabinet at the end of the kitchen, it opened to reveal a pantry stocked full of snacks and other foods. All of it, Pepper emphatically told him, Harry was welcome to any time. Already, life in New York seemed better than it had with Dursleys. At least they didn't expect him to cook every meal — and if he chose to cook, it'd be on the awesome professional cooktop — and he'd have more than one meal a day, plus permission to snack.
Pepper showed Harry the doors to her office and the master bedroom, both on the other side of the fireplace, before leading him to the other side of the living room towards his bedroom. Besides Harry's bedroom, this part of the house included two more guest rooms and a linen closet. Pepper said they had chosen the larger room of the three for Harry in the center of the corridor, but he could change to one of the other if he wished. Harry didn't care what room he dumped his backpack in and "claimed" as his own. A bedroom was just a place to sleep.
Like everything else lately, he was wrong.
If Harry had to guess, he'd say his new bedroom was larger than all the Dursleys' bedrooms combined. It even had a sitting area to the right with a modest sofa, two bookcases, a desk, and a television. Two doors across from the queen-size bed led to his private walk-in closet and bathroom. Having never had a private bathroom before, going from sharing with Dudley to the Gryffindor boys — the bathroom was almost better than the bedroom. Almost.
Continuing from the living room, the outer wall had floor-to-ceiling windows and a long padded bench ran along the windows, the length of the room. From his bed, he'd be able to wake up to the sight of the sky, as if he were flying, or sit on the bench at night to watch the busy city below him. A set of heavy navy blue curtains framed the windows, connecting the colors of the room together. Pepper showed him the blackout feature for sleeping, but Harry had no intention of using it for any extended amount of time; the view was too amazing to cover up.
But what struck Harry more than the lavishness and size, the thing that had him brushing away a stray tear from his cheek, were the minor things that had clearly been added recently to transform the room from an adult guest room into a teenage boy's bedroom. The scent of fresh paint highlighted the tasteful light blue color on the walls with a dark blue accent wall behind the queen-sized bed. The crisp gray and white striped linens on the bed, alongside more pillows than Harry needed, appeared to have never been slept on. Small baskets containing pencils, markers, pens, and several notebooks were placed on top of the desk, perfect for a no-maj teenager to work on his summer assignments.
Pepper cleared her throat from the doorway behind him. "Tony was adamant that he wanted you to feel welcomed… feel at home. So we painted and replaced the old guest room furniture with newer, younger pieces. We didn't know your favorite colors were red and gold when we chose the paint colors. Trust me, Tony would have been all over that last night if he knew. So, if you want to change anything—"
"It's perfect, thank you." Harry turned in a circle to take it all in before facing Pepper. "But Tony didn't know… the truth… until less than an hour ago. What if the test had been negative?"
Pepper gave him a slight shrug. "Two things you'll discover about Tony – he works fast, and he makes what he wants happen, whatever the cost. And today, if that test was positive, he wanted you to come home to an actual bedroom… not a guest room… even if it meant tearing it all out tomorrow to convert it back."
Harry nodded, unsure how to express the deep level of gratitude welling up in his chest. His last bedroom was more or less forcibly given to him, and the one before it was under the stairs. So having a bedroom to call his own was already an improvement, even without adding in any of the personal touches.
"Thank you," he said again; the best he could do.
"You are welcome, Harry." She gestured to the bag he had placed at the foot of the bed, and stated, "There are some basic clothes in the dresser in the closet. A few pairs of jeans, several shirts, and a set of pajamas. We weren't sure what you'd be bringing from England or how long it'd take to get the rest of your belongings over."
"Erm…" Harry clenched his teeth, embarrassed at the answer. "This is pretty much it."
"Ok," she said, no trace of judgment in her voice or question about why he didn't have any other belongings, something Harry greatly appreciated. "We can go out tomorrow to pick up whatever else you might need."
Nothing about going shopping sounded enjoyable. Still, Harry nodded. The phone in Pepper's pocket ran, saving them from the awkwardness growing between them.
"I'm sorry. I really need to take this." She raised her phone to reiterate the call coming in. "Why don't you get settled and we'll come find you once Tony is home? There are fresh towels under the bathroom sink and the shower is stocked with toiletries if you'd like to freshen up a bit. There is soap, shampoo, toothpaste, and a toothbrush in there."
Showering sounded like the best idea in the world. Harry had tried to avoid using the disgusting one at the motel as much as possible. While his standards were rather low, he drew the line at the mold spots and blood-like substance coating the wall, so only took two showers in the four days they were there, each lasting no more than five minutes. How Snape used it every night, Harry didn't want to know, assuming he was actually in the shower whenever it ran.
His new bathroom, decorated in various gray and white with marble floors, a sleek straight-lined gray vanity, and a glass-enclosed shower, was bright and clean, in a very different way than Aunt Petunia's sterile one. A faint citrus aroma around the room and natural light coming in through the long window over the shower completed the pleasant atmosphere, making it by far the fanciest bathroom Harry had ever stepped foot in. He stayed in the shower longer than he intended to for no other reason than he could. No one was standing outside the door waiting to barge in if he went one second over his allotted time, and he didn't have to worry about Seamus or Ron taking his towels for their "prank of the week". The shampoo and body soap on the tiled inset had the same citrus fragrance as the rest of the room, and Harry washed his hair twice to ensure he removed any grime from the previous five days.
Rather than digging into the clothes Tony and Pepper bought for him, Harry chose his second best pair of jeans from Ron — a just-a-little-too-short three-time hand-me-down — and a basic gray short-sleeved shirt. After a quick comb of his unmanageable hair, he felt prepared to face the rest of his weird day.
Walking out of the bathroom to Snape standing at the window waiting for him was not part of the plan.
"You should have knocked," Harry muttered. Grabbing his backpack, he began unpacking his few belongings, mostly to give him something to do other than stare at the professor. He quickly realized there was no loose floorboard in his room's tile flooring to hide his magical items, so he was forced to leave his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map in the bag for now. Sirius's mirror and his wand went in the top bedside table drawer to keep nearby. Since Snape had paused his moving picture album — promising the charm was reversible — Harry placed it on the top of the bedside table.
"Would you have heard me from the shower?"
Harry didn't humor him with an answer. They both knew he would not have, nor would have rushed out either. Instead, Harry moved on to filling his desk; using the thin upper drawer to store the letters he received from his friends throughout the previous summers, and then placing the now innocuous-looking books — once again thanks to Snape charming them to appear muggle before they leaving the abandoned warehouse — along the top edge. There were also new books there, too, from Tony and Pepper. A few on cars called 'Hot Rods', American sports, and three mystery novels Harry would probably never read.
While working with his back to the professor, so he wouldn't have to see his reaction, Harry asked, "Did my sale go well? Nothing surprising popped up?"
"No funds were exchanged. Ergo, you were not sold as you dramatically make it sound," Snape smoothly replied. "Everything is set, however. Most importantly, I have assured your privacy here and Stark will keep you safe."
Harry whipped around. "How did you 'assure my privacy'? That sounds suspicious."
Harry shuddered at Snape's cunning grin. Definitely suspicious. "As I anticipated, there were several non-disclosure agreements, each preventing me from speaking about any of this to the press. Therefore, adding my own similar agreement — with emphasis on how Lily purposely kept her son away from him and the proverbial spotlight — was not out of line. I also verbally informed Mr. Stark of the consequences should I find you in even the background of a magazine picture."
Harry let out a humorless laugh. "And he went for it? Said, sure ok?"
Snape's head swayed a bit, feigning contemplation. "Not entirely. But we have an understanding with one another."
"Whatever." Ultimately, Harry didn't care about those details either and he went to resume unpacking when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Snape's duffle bag was at the professor's feet. Harry jutted his chin at the bag. "Aren't you going to go unpack? I think you're staying in the room next door."
Snape did not move. Not to pick up his bag or open the door to check on the room Harry was sure the man would stay in. He just continued to gaze at Harry, not even blinking his impossibly black eyes.
"Absolutely not," Harry exclaimed, having concluded that the professor expected to spend the night in Harry's bedroom. "You can't stay here! There are at least a hundred different rooms in the Tower besides the other two guest rooms next to mine. Pick any of those! I am done sharing a room with you!"
When Snape eventually bent down and gently placed his duffle bag over his shoulder, Harry beamed with pride, but his stomach fell as soon as Snape said, "I have a portkey to catch."
"What?!" Did that mean he wasn't going to stay at all? The news should have made Harry ecstatic inside; he had already spent enough one-on-one time with the man to last him a lifetime, so he should have been celebrating being rid himself of him so soon. But all Harry felt was panic. "You're leaving me here?"
A fire in Snape's previously empty eyes caused Harry to take a step backwards. "Do you have a better alternative? The Dark Lord will have surely noticed my absence by now. And if he does not notice that it coincides a bit too closely with yours, I guarantee you that one of my colleagues certainly will."
"But you can… like… fly there, right?" Harry sat down on the edge of his bed facing Snape. "It's how everyone showed up at the graveyard."
The graveyard. One advantage to the craziness of the previous five days was that he'd been so preoccupied he had not had the capacity to think about the graveyard. Eventually, that would end, and he dreaded that day.
"It's called apparition and international apparition has an incredibly high risk of splinching," Snape snapped as if Harry had asked the most ridiculous question in the world. "I don't care what Dumbledore or Black thinks, you are not worth the loss of a limb."
Although he had never heard the term 'splinching', based on the context, it didn't sound pleasant.
"What am I supposed to do here?" Harry argued. "Sit on my arse and wait?"
"Precisely," Snape replied, in a somewhat calmer tone. "Live your life here. I will return periodically to check in on you, especially if it looks to continue into the school year." Harry went to argue about returning to Hogwarts, but Snape interrupted him by holding up a mirror similar to the one Sirius gave Harry. "Sirius modified the enchantments of your mirror to include me. If you need either of us in an emergency, all you need to do is say either of our names."
Harry's lips pressed into a thin line. "Is it Snape? O-or Sever–"
"Snape will suffice," he said. "Merlin forbid you need it and get confused about which name to use."
There were no goodbyes, good luck, or see you laters exchanged between them. It would have been awkward if they had. Snape just strolled out the door, leaving Harry in the hands of people neither of them knew, without so much as looking back.
Harry hadn't realized he had fallen asleep until a noise from somewhere above his head startled him awake.
"Master Harry?"
Harry sat up in his bed, confused at the sight of the strange room — too bright to be Hogwarts, too big to be Dudley's old room, and definitely not the cupboard. Then, all of a sudden, the events of the last few hours came crashing down on him. New York… Avengers Tower… Tony Stark… his real father… Snape left.
"Master Harry?" The voice above Harry repeated, startling him so badly he rolled right off the edge.
Right. JARVIS.
"Master–"
"I'm here!" Harry yelled from the floor, feeling a bit stupid for answering when no one was physically in his room. He sat up and shook his head to clear it.
"Oh, good." The disembodied voice sounded relieved. Could a computer program be worried? "I've been asked to tell you dinner is ready and your presence is requested in the kitchen."
"Uh, sure," he replied, only half comprehending the message.
"Thank you. I will let Sir know to expect you."
As he slowly stood, taking his time to appreciate the darkened, not quite dusk, sight outside his window, a terrible conclusion dawned on him. If JARVIS could hear him, and possibly see him, then he heard everything Harry and Snape talked about a few hours ago. If he heard it, it wouldn't be a hard jump to assume he'd tell Tony about Harry having to hide here or about some Dark Lor and things called apparition and splinching.
"Erm, JARVIS?"
"Yes, Master Harry."
He grimaced. He'd have to address the "Master" part later. "I didn't realize you were in my bedroom."
"I am accessible everywhere, save the restrooms. However, I am restricted to audio-only in all the bedrooms."
"Great," Harry grumbled. Unsure what to do, and not wanting to call Snape so soon, he cradled his head in his hands to think through his options: either he had to hope Tony didn't question the odd conversation, or he'd have to let the cat out of the bag before he heard them.
Thankfully, the solution came a few seconds into his panic attack when JARVIS added, "You should also know the privacy protocols in place for all the bedrooms in the Tower. These protocols prohibit me from sharing the audio recordings, unless under specific life-threatening conditions."
His head snapped up. "Really? You can't share anything you hear?"
"Unless there is a life-threatening condition, that is correct, Master Harry."
Reading, or in this case listening, between the lines, he was safe for now. Tony could change the protocol anytime, so going forward, Harry would need to be careful. Not that he had any reason to talk about magic.
"Thank you, JARVIS."
Finally ready to meet Tony and Pepper for dinner, Harry opened his bedroom door and followed the scent of pizza towards the kitchen. Seven boxes of pizza sat on the island, and the three formal place settings that Harry had seen on his tour had been replaced with paper plates and red plastic cups. Tony was seated at the head of the table, closest to Harry, with Pepper beside him, leaving Harry's chair facing the window across from her.
"There he is! The fruit of my loins," Tony too loudly announced, jumping from his seat to greet Harry. He exaggeratedly showcased the large boxes of pizza lined up. "We ordered pizza for dinner tonight. I swear we'll try to cook some actual meals… healthy things with broccoli and shit. That's what kids are supposed to eat, right?"
"I don't think I'd know." Harry grabbed the offered plate and peeked into the first box. "Pizza is fine."
Tony fidgeted uncomfortably next to him. "I wasn't sure what you liked, so I got a few different options–"
"Too many," Pepper added, still at the table.
"From closest to furthest we have plain cheese, veggie… that's Pepper's favorite… meat lovers, supreme, Hawaiian, barbecue chicken, and a bacon one. That's my favorite." He lifted the lid to each box as he listed them, then seamlessly added over his shoulder to Pepper, "And I figured with a teenage boy hanging around, having leftover pizza in the fridge is a requirement now. Ok?"
Harry grabbed a slice of cheese, veggie, and Hawaiian — he had never tried a Hawaiian pizza —, pausing in front of the last box before adding a slice of bacon to the top.
"Bacon is my favorite, too. Well, bacon and green olives," Harry said, joining Pepper at the table followed shortly by Tony, who gave Pepper a not-so-quiet 'ha' at them sharing something as trivial as their favorite pizza toppings. "You could've just asked me what kind I like, you know? It probably would've saved you at least three pizzas worth."
Tony brushed off his concern. "You were fast asleep on your bed when I got to your room and I didn't want to disturb you. Any of the pizza you don't like, I'll send upstairs. Steve and Bruce are basically goats. They'll eat practically anything."
Pepper rolled her eyes, hard, and just like that, the ice between them broke.
During dinner, Tony appeared calmer than when Harry last saw him in the conference room. They talked about Tony attending MIT at Harry's age — comparing his experience to Harry's boarding school they both agreed it was cooler to live with kids his own age —, Tony's recent decision to move from his Malibu beach house to New York, and what he actually does for Stark Industries, which seemed like a lot of random things to Harry. Tony answered all of Harry's questions including, what were his parents like, how it felt to fly in a metal tube, and whether he had returned to London since meeting Lily Evans. As far as Harry could tell, he answered all of them honestly, though Harry wasn't sure he would know if he had lied. The hardest part was when Tony turned the conversation around and asked Harry a few of his own questions. Had he ever traveled outside of the UK before? Did he have a girlfriend… or a boyfriend when Harry denied the girlfriend question? How attached was he to his Scotland boarding school?
None of them mentioned any of the serious topics. Nothing about Harry's childhood, or how this was literally the second family he'd been dropped into, nothing about Snape or their strange relationship, and nothing about his mother, which Harry didn't really want to know about; some things were best left alone. He wasn't naïve enough to believe certain things would never come up, but he was glad they saved them for later. They needed a chance to get to know each other before diving into the complicated mess of a relationship they found themselves in. But if Harry had it his way, and he rarely did in life, they'd never discuss anything more than 'When did Pepper move in?'.
As the sun sank below the horizon, the lights in the room automatically changed to offer the ideal evening lighting, much like the lanterns around Hogwarts. In fact, the entire penthouse reminded Harry of a different kind of magic. Here, the lights adjusted depending on the time of day and who was in the room. At Hogwarts, the lanterns turned themselves on and off during the day and night, inwardly laughing at the image of McGonagall or Snape strolling about the castle, lighting them all and then extinguishing them at curfew. At Hogwarts, there were ghosts, talking portraits, and moving armor, but here he had an all-seeing AI that Harry still did not fully understand what he could or couldn't do, moving robotics he saw in labs as they passed that appeared to be working independently, and a group of superheroes who lived somewhere in the building. Hogwarts had moving staircases to transport students to different parts of the castle, while Avengers Tower had a series of different lifts programmed to allow specific personnel to access specified floors depending on their badges and biometrics. The irony — that magic and technology didn't work together — wasn't lost on Harry and he could only imagine the possibilities if they did.
Midway through a rather hilarious conversation comparing British words to their American counterparts — a windscreen to windshield, boot of the car to the trunk, which almost hurt Harry's mouth to say, and Pepper's favorite, rubbish bin for trash can — Harry let slip a big yawn.
"Well, I believe that's our cue, Tony," Pepper said. She started collecting the plates, but Harry did not give his plate or cup to her. Nobody had to clean up after him. He was just stratified by not being forced to clean up after everyone else.
"Shit," Tony muttered, dramatically checking his watch. "Am I supposed to set a bedtime or something? Teenagers don't have bedtimes, do they?"
"No, not really a bedtime," Harry replied. Technically, he had a curfew at school and a time to be locked in his room at the Dursley, but neither dictated a time to go to sleep in his bed. To avoid going into the details of his previous home life, he stated, "We have a curfew at school to be in our houses… erm… those are the different dormitories connected to a common room where we can hang out after curfew. The younger kids might have a time they need to be in the dorms, but usually it's in the house by ten."
"Ten it is!" Tony exclaimed, rather proud of himself. "Then, so long as you can get up for whatever we have going on the next day, I am the last person to tell you how much sleep to get. Most nights, I'm lucky to catch more than two or three."
Pepper's lack of laugh, at what Harry took as a joke, did not go unnoticed.
As Harry followed Pepper to the rubbish bin, which she swore she'd be calling it from now on, a fiery tremor shot straight down Harry's right arm. Caught by surprise, the teen lost control of the plate in his hand and dropped it to the floor, where a half-eaten slice of pizza landed face down on the rug. Then suddenly, Harry's legs felt as if they had turned to jelly and he found himself on his knees next to the pizza, clutching his right arm to his check. Voldemort's phantom voice taunted him, yelling "Cruico!" in his ear, threatening to drag his mind back to the graveyard until a set of hands on his shoulders grounded him there… in New York… with his father.
Words spoken rapidly above his head sounded like they were underwater, but Harry gathered himself enough to stammer out, "M'o-ok." When he eventually opened his eyes, he was met by the pizza on the floor, soaking the cream-colored rung in crimson pizza sauce. He hastily picked up the pizza and tried to grab a napkin to clean up his mess, but the hands on his shoulders tightened, preventing him from standing up. "I-I'm so sorry. Let me fix it. I can fix it…"
"Hold it right there." The twinge of concern in Tony's voice prompted Harry to actually listen. "We can clean the rug. Trust me. Not a problem. All I need to know is what happened to your arm. Has it done that before?"
"It's fine." With the tremor done, Harry stretched his arm out and squeezed his hand into a fist to show that everything was fine. Unfortunately, the gesture did not soothe the two pairs of worried eyes watching him. Thinking quickly, Harry lied, "I… erm… got hurt playing rugby with some friends right before I left Surrey. The doctor said it might tingle if I move it the wrong way, but it'll get better. I promise."
Neither Tony nor Pepper looked convinced. Still, Tony wrapped his arm around Harry's waist to help him stand, bringing them closer together than they had been all day; an awkward moment for both of them.
"I promise, I'm fine," Harry repeated to reassure them again. "If it's alright with you, I'm going to head to sleep. It's been… a long day after a long few days."
It seemed as if Pepper was going to argue with him, but Tony spoke ahead of her, nervously saying, "Absolutely. Uh, if you need anything, our room is on the other side of that wall." He extended his hand toward the living room fireplace. "You can just… y'know… come get us. You should probably knock first unless it's an emergency-emergency. Or you can always ask JARVIS to get us for you. Uh, we keep a stocked first aid kit somewhere in here–"
"There's one in the first kitchen drawer to the right of the refrigerator," Pepper offered, and Harry didn't miss the way she snaked her hand down Tony's fidgeting arm to calm it.
"Yes," Tony said more confidently. "And there's some basic medicine in the cabinet above that drawer. Standard home care stuff, Tylenol… or Paracetamol, as you Brits call it. But we have a whole med wing upstairs if anything–" Pepper's cough got Tony back on track. "As the real adult in the household, Pepper's usually up early. I don't have much planned for tomorrow, so get some good rest and, uh, I'll see you in the morning."
"G'night," Harry respectively murmured, and made his way to his room, pretending he didn't hear Tony's sigh of relief as soon as he was out of view.
Harry grabbed his pajamas from his backpack and discovered a little bag of Anti-Cruciatus potions, enchanted silent so nobody would hear the bottles clinking, hidden beneath them. A note written in Snape's all too familiar script fell out of the bag when he pulled the potion out to drink.
Take two potions every three days (one before breakfast, one before bed) until the tremors subside. This should get you through until I visit again.
"Funny how he didn't mention this," Harry grumbled to himself, popping the cork and downing the thick liquid. The taste of the syrupy potion wasn't the worst he'd ever had — that honor went to the Skele-gro in his second year — but he still grimaced at the black licorice aftertaste.
Now he had to figure out where to store it. Knowing JARVIS had no visuals in the room and the bag spelled quiet, he only needed to hide the contents out of obvious sight from any visitors to his room. That removed his desk, bedside table, and bathroom, leaving him his closet or dresser. Pepper, or someone, had already filled his drawers with clothing, so he eliminated the dresser and he decided to store it in his backpack on the highest shelf he could reach. Nobody would have any reason to open it, so no one would come across it by accident.
About ten minutes later, Harry slid into the most comfortable bed he'd ever slept on, ready to put the events of the day behind him. He fell asleep on that first night completely unaware of Tony's developing suspicions of Harry and his circumstances, and certainly unaware that over 3000 miles away Severus Snape lay at the feet of Voldemort, suffering through yet another round of the Cruciatus Curse as his punishment for losing Harry Potter.
Notes:
I know Tony is still a little distant. I promise he will eventually come around. Being a year out from the New York invasion, he still has a lot that he has to work through. It's a bit of a slow-burn to get there though. I wanted to give Harry and Tony separate chapters on how they handle the news, so next up will be Tony's POV (continuing on from this chapter, not going backwards) where he starts to see that some of Harry's story and history don't make a lot of sense.
Chapter 7: Something's Not Right
Notes:
A look into Tony's point of view of recent events. Even though I wrote all the chapters in order, this one was in my head from the moment I decided to write this fic. Technically, chapters 6, 7, and 8 all go together but they would have been too much in a single chapter, so I'll try to get the next chapter out quickly.
Thank you to all the comments, kudos, and favorites!
Chapter Text
"JARVIS, find me everything on Harry Anthony Evans from Little Whinging… or Chard England. Born to a Lily Evans on July 31st, 1998."
The moment Tony saw the scrawny, couldn't-be-over-twelve-year-old, kid sitting on the table in Bio-Lab 12, he knew the kid was his. No, he didn't feel any biological connection drawing him to the kid. Tony didn't have a paternal bone in his body. Simply put, in person the kid looked more like a green-eyed version of Tony in his early teen years than he had in the picture. Of course, expecting the paternity test to be positive and actually seeing it displayed in all its glory on the big screen of his best conference room were two entirely different monsters. Thank God for Pepper and her ability to stay in control under pressure because Tony wouldn't have been able to function with the lawyers had the kid… his kid… Harry… stayed there while they signed the transfer of custody papers.
Which, in itself, was strange. This man, Severus, a supposed friend of Lily's but whom her son referred to as "Professor" or "Snape" had everything primed and ready for them; as much as Tony's lawyers had, making the whole thing rather simple. Suddenly, with a few signed agreements for privacy on all accounts, and an odd pseudo-threat not to capitalize on Harry's identity, he had a son. An almost fifteen-year-old son who grew up with his aunt and uncle until their mysterious death landed him on Tony's doorstep.
Dinner had been an interesting affair. Tony and Harry shared their love of bacon on pizza, Tony told stories about his old boarding school and college days, and they all had a few good laughs at British lingo. By the end, Harry seemed at ease for the first time since Tony saw him through the Bio-Lab mirror, proving, as always, that Pepper was right in her suggestion to hold off on any serious "getting to know him" talk had paid off. That was what tonight was for because, in Tony's extensive experience, people withhold the most vital information, anyway. A fact he, unfortunately, believed relevant to Harry after seeing whatever attack he had at the end of dinner.
Tony had wanted to follow Harry into his room, but Pepper stopped him. Whatever had happened, Harry didn't seem surprised by it nor did he want to discuss it. At least, not yet. At some point, if Harry didn't offer the information first, Tony would have to nudge him about it. That was what fathers did, right? Except for his, of course. When Tony broke his arm after falling off his "self-improved" bicycle, Howard Stark barely looked up from his notebook. He simply muttered something about learning how to fix the problem for his next prototype. Tony had never wanted to become a father for fear of becoming Howard, so taking an interest in his son's mysterious medical condition seemed as good of a place to start as any.
Which was how he found himself down in his workshop at one o'clock in the morning asking JARVIS to find whatever he could about Harry. And to Tony's surprise, JARVIS delivered the request at record speed.
"I've placed all the files found for Harry Anthony Evans born to Lily Evans on July 31 1998 in London, England onto monitor three."
"That was quick." Tony spun his chair to face the monitor and physically startled at the whooping three images on his screen: Harry's birth certificate filed on August 14th, 1998, his passport application and subsequent passport issued last week, and a one-way flight he boarded from Heathrow to LaGuardia — including security footage of him and the Professor at the airport and then at outside some shitty hotel in Queens. "Uh, Jay? Why are there only these three?"
"That is all there is, Sir."
"Not suspicious at all." Tony ran his hand down his tired face. "This might be more complicated than I expected."
"You know?" Pepper said from behind him right as Tony was about to expand his search parameters. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, looking at the screen over his head. "When I said you should wait to get to know Harry, this isn't what I had in mind. And yet, I am more surprised than I should be."
"I couldn't sleep–"
"Obviously."
"–so I came down here to tinker a bit. Figured I'd work on fixing the trajectory issue on the propulsion system of my new suit. It was off by a smidge in testing last week." He twisted the chair to face her. She had her rose gold robe tied around her and a glorious cup of coffee in her hand, which she placed on his desk. "But it just so happens that tinkering doesn't help when the distraction is my long-lost fourteen-year-old son sleeping on the other side of our home."
A chair slowly rolled up to Pepper. She sat down with a whispered "Thanks" to DUM-E.
"And all this–" she referenced the documents on the screen, "–will help you sleep?"
Unable to ignore the judgment written clearly on her face and the disappointment in her voice, he broke down, falling into his typical pattern of swift — borderline manic — talking.
"Don't you find it all a little too convenient, Pep?" He practically spat at her, his mind moving a thousand miles per second. "This creep shows up… after lurking around us for days, breaks into our floor–which by the way should be impossible and I can't find any explanation for. But he shows up with a kid… a kid he says is mine… whose mother I hardly remember and she didn't want me to have, by the way… and he has an answer for literally everything. The birth certificate, pictures, custody paperwork, all wrapped up in a nice little package, and off we go." He snapped his fingers for emphasis. "Just like that. Happy family. Done."
Pepper's head swayed from side to side, but Tony knew better than to assume he had convinced her. "I mean, yeah, it was cleaner than I would have thought. He didn't seem to want anything like the others did, except for Harry to be with you."
"A bit too altruistic for my liking. No one does something for nothing."
"But Tony," There was the voice… the voice where Tony knew he'd lost her, "the circumstances don't change the results. Unless you think he somehow hacked into your network–"
"Impossible."
"Then Harry is your son, regardless of how he got here or why." Her hand resting on his knee tightened. "He's here now, in a foreign country without a soul in his corner. He needs you."
"And I get that," Tony reasoned because he did understand. Even for his level of skepticism, it seemed hard to believe a fourteen-year-old was behind something nefarious. And yet… "I can't shake the feeling he's hiding something. You saw him today at lunch. He paused to think before almost every answer. Then he looked over at Dracula half the time when he spoke. And then the Count just, what, leaves? Doesn't wait to make sure the kid of his 'good childhood friend' is safe?
"Something's not right with them. I thought maybe Harry ran away, but there aren't any missing persons reports matching his description. Actually, there's nothing on him at all, which further supports my suspicion." Feeling himself slipping, Tony took a deep breath. "I can't help him if I don't know all parts of the equation. I just… I need to know either what's going on or to find the proof that nothing is."
Pepper nodded. Not her 'you make a good point' nod, it was more of an 'I see I won't change your mind so I'm going to step away' kind of nod. To Tony, it felt like a half-win, and he'd take whatever he could get.
"Just remember what I said last night. Innocent until proven guilty. Don't forget he's a fourteen-year-old, probably scared but too proud to admit it, kid who didn't ask for any of this. You're all he has, Tony, and you know what that feels like." She stood and tucked the chair beneath the table before leaning over to place a soft kiss on his cheek. "Don't stay up too late."
God, he hated how Pepper knew exactly the right thing to say to force him to question his actions. Sitting at the desk, reading over his kid's birth certificate for the umpteenth time, he debated closing it all down for the night and doing it the old-fashioned way by actually talking to his son. All he knew was Harry had lived with his aunt and uncle, who recently died too, after Lily had died in a car accident — at least that was what Harry told them over lunch. Yes, he seemed hesitant to talk about it, but to Pepper's point, the kid had been through a lot in a short few days.
Except Tony knew himself well enough to know he wouldn't sleep until JARVIS told him Harry had nothing to hide.
"JARVIS?"
"I take you will not heed Miss. Potts advice?"
Tony ignored the sass he'd gotten used to years ago. "Try Lily Evans in the UK. Use her picture as a reference for facial recognition to narrow the scope down."
Lily's search took JARVIS longer to compile, and after he transferred the information to Tony's computers, Tony had to adjust the criteria until he found Lily Evans of Cokeworth, born on January 30th, 1978. Using her information, he discovered her birth certificate, primary school records, Harry's birth certificate, and a marriage certificate to someone named James Potter dated January 15, 1999, around six months after Harry was born. There were no secondary or postsecondary school documents and no work history. The final document associated with her was her death certificate, which listed a house gas explosion as the cause of death on Halloween 1999. A completely different story than the car accident Harry described, and if the boy and professor lied about one thing, there was almost certainly more to find.
"Jay?" Tony questioned his partner-in-crime. "Anything about a gas explosion in Chard?"
"One, Sir, but it does not provide any other information on the cause. Two were deceased, James and Lily Potter, and one minor child survived. His name is not listed."
Talking out loud to himself as much as to JARVIS he asked, "So why does Harry think his parents died in a car accident when Lily's cause of death is a gas explosion? And what are the odds a toddler survives something like that?"
Tony stood and began making digital notes on the screen with his StarkPen, connecting lines between documents in a vain attempt to connect the pieces.
"Ok." He took a step to review his work, albeit limited, thus far. "Check out the husband. Uh… James Fleamont Potter. Who the fuck gives their kid the name Fleamont? You know what? That's unique enough, put Fleamont in as a parameter too. All in the UK."
"Working on it, Sir."
With a sigh, Tony took a sip of the warm coffee. The gesture basically proved Pepper's acceptance of his research. Why else would she bring him caffeine to keep him awake and fuel his mind?
"James Fleamont Potter has pulled up no new results," JARVIS announced, and even he sounded confused by the revelation. "Merely the same article on the home explosion in Lily Potter's file and the marriage certificate."
"That's impossible," Tony muttered. "Birth certificate?"
"No, nothing, Sir," JARVIS responded. "Nor did I find anything on Fleamont plus Potter."
"How does someone without a government-issued birth certificate get a marriage certificate?"
He crossed James Potter off his list and began summarizing what little he had to go on, primarily Lily Evans' sufficient records until the summer after she turned eleven. There was nothing else until Harry was born, followed by her marriage to a ghost and their strange deaths. Somehow, Harry's side of the board was worse. But Tony kept returning to the names Lily Potter neé Evans, James Potter, and Harry Evans.
"For fun," Tony eventually said out loud, "try searching Harry Potter and add facial recognition from every ATM, traffic camera, and museum in England using the picture the Count brought us."
With no adoption papers, it seemed like a long shot at first, but Tony remembered how the Professor mentioned Lily heavily implied Harry was her future husband's child — not boyfriend, he noted. She obviously used her maiden name on Harry's official birth certificate, however, it didn't mean she didn't parade him around as a Potter.
This time, JARVIS did not disappoint. "I found a Harry James Potter from Little Whinging, Surrey, also born July 31, 1998. He matches a reverse age rendering of Master Harry."
"Bingo."
Pages of documentation popped up onto his screen at the same time JARVIS summarized them, "There are custody papers for Harry Potter filed under the guardianship of a Mr. Vernon Dursley and Mrs. Petunia Dursley neé Evans beginning on November 2nd, 1998 and ending on July 2nd of this year when the guardianship was dissolved."
Tony listened intently as he virtually flipped through the birth certificate, primary school records, a few police records he shuffled to the side to review later, and several videos from security cameras showing a small child vaguely matching Harry's description. All the while something nagged at the back of his mind.
"There's definitely some odd shit going on here, Jay," he said to kick-start his problem-solving mode. "For one, Harry Potter's birth certificate was issued on November 1st, the day after his par — Lily died, and the day before his aunt and uncle took custody of him. Yet none of these alarming police records are for a toddler in their care on that day, and there are no hospital records at all. Where was he on the day between the gas leak and showing up at his aunt's house? And who generated the certificate under Harry Potter on that day?
"Moving onto his childhood, where are his records after elementary school? That's the UK equivalent to what we have here, right? So where did he go to school after age eleven? I doubt it's a coincidence that age matches when Lily's records end."
"There are no other school records, Sir. Public or private." JARVIS responded, mistaking his rhetorical question as Tony pointing out a potential mistake on JARVIS's end.
"What about the boarding school in Scotland?" Tony asked, pulling the printed records from the large folder his lawyers left him. "How come they aren't up here?"
JARVIS practically sighed. "It is possible they were not filed electronically."
Tony didn't believe that for a second. Like all records nowadays, these were typed, not handwritten, and anything on a computer had the potential for JARVIS to access.
"Let's switch gears for a second," Tony shook his head, preparing for the shift. "Give me all you have on the Dursleys' death. The aunt, uncle… and did the cousin die too? Lemme guess, a car accident? Because it's always a car accident used as a cover-up."
"Actually, Sir, there are no records of their deaths."
"Too soon?" Tony guessed. Despite what Tony liked to believe, JARVIS had his limits. He couldn't find what didn't exist yet.
"You misunderstood, Sir," JARVIS corrected him. "There are likely no death records because Vernon Dursley's security badge was used to enter Grunnings Drills this morning. I confirmed his identity on the security cameras outside of the building."
All the blood instantly drained out of Tony's face as a giant picture of Vernon Dursley's pudgy face appeared on Tony's screen; a perfect match to the security badge flashing right beside it. "What an ugly human being. Things are getting worse here, Jay. How is this possible? Seriously, I'm out of ideas here… tell me something good."
"It's worth mentioning that you were told the Dursleys could no longer care for Master Harry, not that they were deceased," JARVIS explained and played the audio recording of his conversation with the vampire the night before. On it, the professor said, clear as day, that they could not care for Harry any longer and it was Pepper who made the assumption they had died. Notably, Severus Snape did not correct them.
Tony paced because if he didn't move he was likely to jump in his suit and fly to England to talk to — or hold hostage — these Dursleys. With each pass by his workstation, he rapidly fired questions to absolutely no one, "So what's the deal here? Was my kid kidnapped? Because I'm having a hard time connecting dots that don't lead straight to that conclusion.
"And if he was kidnapped, by whom? The not-dead aunt and uncle? It certainly might explain why they haven't reported him missing yet. You can't exactly file a missing persons report for the kid you kidnapped thirteen years ago. Or did Dracula kidnap him from them? But, again, why no missing persons report? Not to mention, how would he get through customs with a kid not his own? And who kidnaps a kid and then drops him off with his father? Seems excessive to me."
Once again, JARVIS answered the rhetorical question, "Perhaps a friend of said child's mother who wishes to ensure her son is with his recently discovered father?"
"Obviously."
"I don't think I have to point out the condition of Master Harry in these pictures?"
"And yet you just did."
Tony halted his frantic movements to examine the picture JARVIS highlighted on his screen, followed by three more in the background. The first picture looked like it was taken outside of a library. Harry couldn't be more than seven or eight years old in it. The picture showed him walking in alone, wearing a shirt at least four sizes too big — making his thin frame appear even thinner — and sporting bruises at the fringe of his shirt cuff, near his neck of all places, that looked suspiciously like fingertips when Tony enhanced it the best he could. The other two pictures, one from outside his school and the other at the public zoo, weren't any better.
Not needing to see anymore, he swiped those away in favor of the police records, which held the report of the Dursleys finding Harry at their doorstep the morning of November 2nd — who leaves a toddler at a doorstep in November ? — followed by four separate reports filed on behalf of Harry's school for suspicious injuries; two at the age of eight, and one each at the ages of nine and ten. The first report included a note of future random inspections; Tony found no evidence that any had actually occurred. The second and third cases went frustratedly uninvestigated, and the last investigation was ruled "caused by typical brotherly conduct" between a smaller Harry and his same-aged, but substantially larger, cousin. The police gave the cousin a warning and no further reports were received. Tony, of course, did not miss the convenient correlation between no additional reports being filed and Harry's school records abruptly ending. Because the reports came from Harry's primary school, if Harry stopped attending school, the reports would stop as well.
What none of this explained was why Harry seemingly vanished in the summer of 2009 — if Tony discovered those people had locked him in a cellar, no one could keep him from flying there and ripping their limbs apart — or how he showed up at Tony's doorstep this morning.
Ultimately, he came to the only conclusion that made sense.
"OK, so here's what I have. This 'good friend' somehow discovers that Harry is being mistreated by his aunt and uncle. At best, they were neglecting him—those clothes look like damaged hand-me-downs from his whale of a cousin and he's definitely underfed or possibly even being withheld food—and at worst, they were abusing him, based on the school's documentation of consistent injuries. So… the good friend decides to take him to the father he somehow just uncovered.
"He fills out all the papers ahead of time without the Dursleys' explicit knowledge. Or perhaps he bribed them into voluntarily giving up their custody. They didn't seem to particularly care much about Harry, so passing the buck wouldn't bother them too much. Or maybe he blackmailed them. I'm sure we can find some dirt on them that anyone can use to keep them quiet. I probably wouldn't break a sweat looking for something." He pinched his tired eyes closed to think. "You know what? Search for the vampire. Severus Snape, was it? And add facial recognition if you need to… that nose is unique enough, it's bound to pull up something good."
But if this 'good friend' suspected abuse, why didn't he go to the authorities? Where was he all these years while the abuse was happening? And if this friend wanted Harry safe, why wait until after Harry went missing, for all intents and purposes, for the last four years to finally take action? Did nobody notice when the kid fell off the radar? Did anyone care enough to check?
"I found several records for a Mr. Severus Tobias Snape of Cokeworth, England confirmed by facial recognition," JARVIS reported. "I'm sending them to screen four."
Tony swiped his hand across the data on Lily Evans to copy it down to the set of screens on the other end of the workbench and rolled his chair over there to review the new information JARVIS found. Cokeworth came up as Lily's hometown too — a wretched place based on the satellite images Tony pulled up alongside the information — and according to the files, Severus and Lily went to school together.
"Well, at least that checks out," he muttered. "The first thing that does."
Except, similar to Lily and Harry's records, Severus Snape became a ghost the fall after turning eleven. Tony did not believe in coincidences, and if he did, this would have to be the largest coincidence in the galaxy for it to not be related in some way. The rest of Severus Snape's records revealed nothing to help him. He had a birth certificate for a home birth in Cokeworth to Tobias and Eileen Snape on January 9th, 1978. Like Lily, he had no employment records, not even as a "professor" at the school Harry claimed to attend.
"Sir," JARVIS interrupted his rambling thoughts, a welcome interruption, or so Tony assumed a bit too soon. "I have a partial match on a newspaper image from March 1998 suggesting Severus Snape was involved in an explosion of an unknown source at school in Guildford."
"Bring it up, Jay," he demanded just as the article appeared on his screen. The headline called it a domestic terrorist attack with an explosion on a science building killing a teacher and seven students, and injuring twelve others. He didn't read the news article. He didn't have to when a picture said a thousand words, and the picture beneath the headline depicted the side of a demolished building with students, teachers, firefighters, and paramedics standing in front of it. And there in the back, slightly out of focus, watching from the tree line was a younger-looking Severus Snape in an all-black dress — dress being the best term Tony could think of to describe the garment — partially hiding behind a tree; not unlike someone sticking around to watch the outcome of his handiwork.
"What the fuck is my kid a part of?!" Tony exclaimed.
Trying his hardest to put the pieces together, he kept coming up blank. None of them fit snugly enough to explain the situation in any logical manner besides his kid being kidnapped by a man who belonged to some sort of domestic terrorist group. A man who was with Harry this afternoon… in his bedroom… all alone.
"I need to know what they talked about this afternoon," he concluded. "JARVIS, give me the audio from Harry's room starting right before his esteemed professor went to say bye-bye."
"My bedroom privacy protocol–"
Tony slammed his hand into the desk so hard the screens shook. "Override, on my authority, JARVIS. Consider this a life-threatening emergency."
"Ok, Sir."
Tony fell, more than sat, into his chair and closed his eyes, rolling his neck and taking pleasure in the cracks and pops that came from the action.
"I'm sorry, Sir," JARVIS eventually broke the heavy silence. "I'm afraid I've encountered an error in retrieving the recordings."
His eyes snapped open. "Error? What kind of error?"
"The recording file does not exist."
"That's impossible," Tony said, clicking away at the keyboard to access the raw files himself. But JARVIS was right. No recordings were taken after Harry entered his room with Pepper. Baffled, Tony pressed back in his chair trying to figure out what he was experiencing. "Do you know what I need?"
JARVIS didn't miss a beat in replying, "To speak with Master Harry regarding his history?"
"No," Tony turned down JARVIS's perfectly logical reasoning. "I need Rhodey."
Using his feet to propel him, Tony found his phone and urgently typed out a message — you have a fourteen-year-old nephew and I need a favor . Come ASAP — to the person he could always count on to help him solve his middle-of-the-night queries; even if the other man pretended to hate his role.
"Sir?" If JARVIS had a human body, Tony knew he'd look nervous as he called for Tony's attention again.
"What is it, Jay?"
"I think you should know that Master Harry is wandering the private floor and I do not have a protocol for your teenage child wandering in the middle of the night. Might I suggest–"
"That we have a middle-of-the-night chat?" Tony asked, excitedly, knowing good and well it wasn't anywhere near what JARVIS wanted to suggest. Still, he sent Rhodey his message, cleared the data on his screen by placing it into a secured private folder on his private server, and reopened the work he'd been trying to do before his impromptu research project started. "I think that's an excellent idea, Jay."
Chapter 8: A Nighttime Chat
Summary:
Enter: hand waving engineering. My background is in biology, not physics. While I'm not as lost as Harry is here, please don't expect this to make much actual sense. Since Iron Man 3 didn't happen in this timeline, Tony is working on the Mark 42 here.
Chapter Text
New York was called "The City That Never Sleeps" and on his first night in the Tower, Harry understood why.
While Harry had heard the phrase used plenty of times on the television — and more than a few times from Piers as he bragged to Dudley all about his holiday trip to the States last year — living in a sleepy little town where most of the shops closed by eight, then in a boarding school with a strict bedtime curfew, it took seeing it for himself to fully comprehend its meaning. Looking down through the windows in the living room, it seemed unbelievable that the roads were still filled with the red glow of brake lights and many of the surrounding buildings' windows were still illuminated. He was too high in the Tower to see individual people on the walkway or hear any of the hustle and bustle below him, but if there were even half as many people down there as when Harry and Snape had arrived, it certainly qualified as "never sleeps."
The irony of how Harry stood there at two in the morning watching the city that never slept, when he desperately wanted to sleep yet couldn't wasn't lost on him. After the adrenaline rush from his tremor episode wore off, he had fallen asleep fairly easily until a dream about Uncle Vernon locking him in his cupboard just as the house caught fire jolted him out of bed. Somehow, it never occurred to him that what most people would consider a nightmare, no longer qualified as one to Harry. For Harry, if it didn't involve Voldemort, dementors, or the graveyard, he called it a dream. Meaning, anything about his childhood or Uncle Vernon fell into the same category as dreaming about his friends or Quidditch. A horrible reality he avoided putting too much thought into.
Regardless of how he categorized the dream, Harry tossed and turned in bed unable to fall back asleep; reminding himself that the smell of charred wood filling his nostrils was all in his head. Frustrated, he went to his desk to read the old letters from friends. Less than a week ago, reading all about Hermione's family trip to France after first year or Ron's hatred for degnoming the garden would have helped to quiet his jumbled racing thoughts. Tonight it had the opposite effect, instead leading Harry's thoughts down a twisting, anxiety-ridden path. Did they realize he was gone yet, or were they still waiting for Dumbledore to bring him to the hidden place where they were spending the summer? No matter how hard Dumbledore tried to prevent it, as soon as the guards outside Privet Drive reported him missing, the news would spread like wildfire, so if the adults knew, his friends would too. Harry swore he could feel their concern for him deep inside his chest, and he had to resist the impulse to write to them, even though he did not know where or how to send it.
By the time he returned the last letter to his desk drawer, his grief over missing his friends and his rage over Sirius and Snape's ridiculous plan had him kicking his desk chair onto its side hoping to ease the mounting pressure building inside of him. Giving up on the idea of getting any decent sleep, he threw a pair of sweatpants over the boxer shorts he had worn to bed and headed to the living room — because he could actually leave his bedroom anytime he pleased and thinking a change in scenery would help him relax a bit.
"Still fighting jet lag?"
Harry jumped in surprise at Tony's voice behind him, as he stood memorized by the city life going on hundreds of feet below him. Tony and Pepper's bedroom door had been shut when Harry passed it, so he hadn't expected either of them to be awake in the middle of the night. But now Tony was casually leaning against the barstool side of the kitchen counter, nowhere near his bedroom door. Between Tony's strange location, the loose dark gray MIT shirt he wore over a pair of faded jeans — far from any pajamas Harry had seen —, and Harry not hearing the bedroom door open or close, he easily assumed the man had not been sleeping either. But where had he been this whole time?
"It takes longer to adjust than most people think. A couple of days at least, sometimes up to a week, depending on what you're doing during the day," Tony said, his hands unnervingly motionless at his side as he spoke. "It'd be, what? Almost seven in the morning in London? Are you usually an early riser?"
"Something like that," Harry mumbled in reply. It didn't matter whether Tony interpreted it as jet lag or being an early riser seeing as neither was the actual reason for him being awake.
Tony smoothly sauntered to the window directly to Harry's right and peered out at the city. "Guess it's another thing we have in common, huh? Bacon on pizza and rough sleepers. Sounds like you hit the jackpot, kid."
Harry's forehead creased as he frowned. "I didn't say–"
"I like to tinker," Tony abruptly interrupted. He shifted his body, squaring his shoulders to face Harry straight-on. Seeing Harry's confusion, he clarified, "When I can't sleep, I like to tinker. It keeps my hands moving and my mind focused on something productive. Want to give it a try?"
Not once in his four years of knowing Snape had Harry ever wanted to be anything like the man, but at that moment he really wished he could read people as easily as the professor could. There was something in Tony's eyes — a hint of distrust, perhaps — as he waited for Harry to make the next move that made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand straight up.
"Erm, sure?" Harry said. As if any other answer would be acceptable given how Tony had already taken off towards the front door.
Since Tony's workshop took up the entire floor under the penthouse, getting there was as simple as going through the door to the left of the lift and down the glass staircase. Unlike every other area Harry had seen in the Tower so far, the workshop was an absolute mess… an organized mess and Harry loved it. Although a system surely existed in Tony's head, random mechanical parts covered nearly every table with no obvious rhyme or reason. The screens were filled with various diagrams, equations, and schematics; all foreign to Harry, who technically only had a primary school education in Maths. The deeper he walked into the room, the more he thought the space likely mirrored the chaos in Tony's mind when no one forced him to rein it in for the more structured aspects of his life.
Tony led the way past a table holding a dozen cellphone-like devices, another with a rack of arrows, and one with pipes connected by a white stringy material. Harry slowed down as they approached a robotic arm that was sweeping fine metallic dust into a dustbin. It reminded Harry of the summer he spent at the Burrow, specifically Mrs. Weasley's enchanted broom, where he had first learned how magic could be incorporated into a home. Watching the robot move autonomously further supported his growing belief that technology was simply muggle magic. After all, Tony had invented alternatives to a lot of the things Harry could do using magic, such as programmable robots for mundane tasks, automated systems to control everything from the lights to temperature settings to unlocking doors using a fingerprint, and flying in a metal suit with blasters was not unlike flying a broom while using the stupefy spell. And that was only what Harry had seen in the last half-day.
"Sorry about the mess. I would say it's a work in progress, but this is the best it's looked in for a while. This area of the lab is my sandbox, where all the ideas are born. The ones that don't explode then head off to their respective paths, an area for the SI public work, one for the SI business segments, Avengers, or just my own shit," he rattled off ahead of Harry. When Harry didn't respond, he noticed Harry's curiosity in the robot and flashed a proud smile. "This is DUM-E. I made him during my MIT days and he helps with just about everything down here. DUM-E–" he waved his hand in a circle toward the corner of a well-loved sofa behind the robot, "–you missed a spot right there."
With no extra information on where the missing dust was or how much, the robotic arm whirled around and promptly scooped up a bundle of discarded wires into the bin. Harry had no idea how Tony did it. He wouldn't even know where to begin such a process; yet another thing his biological father had over him.
"You really are a genius, aren't you?" The question slipped out before Harry could stop himself. "I mean, I read all about your history on the plane from London–"
"Hold up," Tony came to a halt, placing his hand firmly on Harry's chest, practically catching Harry who almost ran into him. "What do you mean you read about me on the plane? Are you saying you had never heard of me, as a person not as your… um… not as a relative, before coming here?"
The accusatory tone, more than Tony's inability to speak the word 'father', caused Harry to take a step back. "A little narcissistic, don't you think?"
"Eh." Tony shrugged. "Par for the course for me."
"Well, I'm only fourteen and until this week I lived in the UK. Excuse me for not keeping up with the American news on weapons and energy."
"And technology," Tony added, making Harry believe his reasoning has been logical enough to accept. The feeling was short-lived, however, as Tony had his own equally logical rebuttal, "Except I'm pretty sure the alien invasion on New York last year made worldwide news. Then, of course, the whole superhero aftermath thing was kind of hard to miss."
Harry sighed. The attack on New York must have been broadcast live during the event. It was probably on the telly for weeks afterward, too, but Harry wouldn't have seen it because he had been living in a castle with no electricity. So, no, he hadn't heard about it.
"I was… busy this past year," Harry lamely said. He really needed to think faster if he had any hope of successfully hiding from Voldemort.
"Busy?" Tony repeated, his head nodding. "Ok."
Harry knew Tony didn't believe his half-truth, but Tony dropped the subject to show off the bench in front of them filled with pieces of the Iron Man suit in various stages of development, a range of tools, strips of metal, and half-striped wires covering the bench in front of them. Harry couldn't tell top from bottom and wouldn't even attempt to guess what all the different colored wires meant, if they meant anything at all.
Clearly in his element, Tony jumped right into explaining the parts and justifying his decision to choose one material over another. The portion of the suit he was currently working on controlled the propulsion system, that much Harry had understood. Tony had changed the design so that individual parts of the suit could self-propel to him on demand, similar to the Accio Harry used in the first task to summon his broom. Once again, Tony's world of engineering aligned with Harry's magical one and so long as Harry made these small connections, substituting magic for energy, he felt he stood a decent chance of keeping up with Tony's fast-talking.
Creating a suit to allow the navigation of individual sections required creating a miniature power source and maneuvering system for each section. All of this used a series of math formulas with as many letters as numbers for things like weight, forces, and a few other parameters that Harry lost track of less than halfway through. After tweaking the equation to his liking, Tony spent no less than five minutes searching his drawers for a pair of safety glasses to teach Harry how to solder, a tool Tony said he used to love using as a kid. Harry didn't follow how those two were related. Not taking Harry's terrified "no, thank you" as an answer, Tony handed over the tool to Harry and set up a practice station using scrap metal and random wires DUM-E gave him, and then patiently walked Harry through the steps of basic soldering. While Tony assured Harry he had done a 'stand-up job for his first go', Harry flat-out refused to do any work on the actual power unit beyond holding the parts in place to prevent any shifting.
"This must be weird for you, huh?" Tony briefly glanced up at Harry as he asked.
Harry understood what he meant, but didn't want to talk about his feelings surrounding the last week; preferring to bury them and move on, just like he was trying to do with the graveyard. And if everyone left him alone, he'd have a better chance of succeeding, or so he thought. "I don't know," he drew out the words, feigning his misunderstanding, "the soldering part is pretty straightforward… the maths on the other hand…"
He trailed off, hoping Tony would get the hint and move on. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect, and the man merely continued working, perfectly content to let the awkwardness of their silence build while waiting for Harry to give him a serious answer. He succeeded, too, because by the third minute, the silence had become too much for Harry, and he gave in.
"It's weird," he amended his answer. "I've never really been anyone's son before. I mean, I don't remember having a real parent, and my aunt… well…"
What could Harry possibly say about Aunt Petunia without raising at least a dozen red flags? He couldn't tell Tony how much she hated him and how, as a result, his bedroom for most of his life had been the cupboard under the stairs. He couldn't tell him how often she misdirected her anger at Lily towards Lily's son, how Harry had learned at a young age to remain just out of their grasp, or about the unfair chores and the horrible things she'd say to him for no reason other than his existence. No, Harry would never tell Tony any of those things.
"Your aunt, what?" Tony prodded, spotlighting how long Harry had sat muddled in his thoughts. "You never considered her as your parent?"
"No, not really." That was as close to the truth as he would get.
Tony doubled down on his notes, giving Harry the impression he had moved on. Again, Harry was mistaken. "You mentioned a cousin, right? Were you two close at all?"
"In age, yes," Harry carefully said. "We were in the same grade and classes until I went to boarding school."
"So, then how'd you end up at different schools?"
The question was innocent and one Snape had grilled Harry about during their stay at the motel, so he felt sure of his response, "It's a by-invitation-only school. My mum was the first of her family to get invited and attend. As her son, I automatically had a spot. Guess I'm doing pretty well there, because they let me back every year."
"You sound relieved," Tony said, and Harry feared explaining himself until Tony gave him the out he needed. "I suppose most kids are thrilled to leave home. I might have too if my parents hadn't celebrated the day they shipped me off. Well, my dad mostly."
Harry stopped himself from disagreeing. If Hogwarts wasn't a magical school, the Dursleys likely would have gladly shipped him off, and Harry still would have been relieved to go. They also might have forbidden him from attending just to torture him. They took too much joy in depriving Harry of anything positive in his life.
Deciding to change the subject, one Harry had more control over, he not so innocently asked, "Do you remember her? My mum, I mean."
The sharp inhale next to him told Harry that he had successfully thrown Tony off. A feat, really. Taking a play out of Tony's and Snape's book, the teen waited patiently for the answer, refusing to speak first no matter how awkward the quiet dragged on. Tony did a better job of putting himself back together than Harry did, and in less than a minute, he gently set the tools aside to properly address Harry's question.
"Listen, Harry," he began with sincerity, "over the next few days you're gonna hear a lot of stories about my… wilder years. You're going to hear about a lot of alcohol, a lot of drugs, and a lot of different women. And you should know that everything you hear is the truth. Back then… I didn't– I didn't care about anyone or anything but myself and maybe who I'd take home from one party to the next.
"I remember Lily." He let out a nervous breath. "I can't say I would have remembered her by just her name if I hadn't seen her picture too, but I remember going back to that little bar night after night hoping she'd be there. She had fascinated me, and not just because she turned me down on the first night, and then again on the second night. She was smart, witty, and confident, unlike any of the other women I surrounded myself with during those years. In fact, Pepper is the only other woman who has fit that bill since Lily. And I think… I think under different circumstances… had my parents not died when they did, and I hadn't been forced into running SI right afterward…. I think things might have worked out differently between us.
"I hated I had to leave," Tony continued, almost trance-like, and Harry hung on every word, eagerly soaking up the brief glimpse of his parents' life together. "Even worse, I did it in such a cowardly way. I just… I got the call, and I acted. You'll learn I do that a lot, act before I think."
"Me too," Harry responded. A gentle smile passed between them. "My friend, uh, she tells me all the time how I need to do a better job at planning first. It just never seems to work out. She says I'm a magnet for trouble."
Tony's shoulder bumped against Harry's. "I really hope you got some of my outstanding traits too. I promise, there are at least one or two of them. If not, well, I'm sorry. You're going to have a rough go ahead of you."
The warmth in Harry's chest grew, helping him feel a little lighter. "Did you ever try to find her?"
"Yes!" Tony exclaimed unequivocally, leaving no room for Harry to doubt him. "Once the dust had settled around here, I looked for her but kept coming up empty-handed. At one point I thought maybe she didn't exist at all. That I made it all up. Given the drug and copious amounts of alcohol, it wouldn't have been as far-fetched as it sounds today. Obviously, that wasn't the case, though, because here you are."
"Right." He really didn't want any more details on that particular subject.
They settled into a rhythm of Tony adjusting some wire or knob on the power unit, as Harry took to calling it, then he'd explain to Harry what he had done, why, and what he planned next. As Tony delved into topics Harry had no hope of understanding, the teenager examined a tablet that appeared to be a digital notebook filled with Tony's indecipherable scribbling. Apparently, terrible handwriting was yet another similarity they shared, even in electronic form.
"You actually understand this stuff?"
"More or less." Tony turned his attention to the tablet and swiped through the 'pages'. A few screen taps brought up an expanded version of the notes from the tablet onto the monitor. The equation had been the foundation for the work laid out on the bench. "Some of it is my rambling in writing form and occasionally…. I get lucky and stumble on something right."
"You sometimes get lucky, huh?" Harry cast a skeptical glance at him. Nothing Tony created seemed based on luck. To prove his point, Harry pointed at the bright blue circle in the center of Tony's chest. "Like that?"
"With the benefit of hindsight, I think I got pretty damn lucky. Just don't tell anyone else I said so," Tony replied, surprising Harry with his honesty. "When I think about the months I spent in the cave, I have a hard time believing I'd be here without a healthy dose of luck… luck that someone skilled enough was there to keep the shrapnel from killing me on the spot, luck that I had the right amount of Palladium available to pull it off, luck that Yinsen… I got lucky, that's all."
A heaviness fell between them which Harry immediately recognized as grief and guilt pouring off of Tony. The name Yinsen didn't sound familiar from any of Harry's limited research, but Harry knew about grief and guilt. Every day, he battled the same demons concerning Cedric, often wondering why Cedric had to die if Voldemort had been after Harry, why Harry had insisted on taking the cup together, and why Harry didn't die instead or, or at least with, Cedric. It was unfair for Harry to have survived when Cedric, an innocent bystander caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, had stood a chance. In Harry's eyes, Cedric's death fell on his shoulders just as much as Voldemort's and he refused to believe otherwise.
"Why do you wear it all the time?" Harry had wondered about it when Tony first entered the lab, but it hadn't exactly been the right time to ask. "If it powers the suit, can't you just put it on when you need it?"
"It's not just for the suit," Tony mumbled, dropping the work he'd been staring at the moment before. Their eyes locked, and Harry almost took back the question at Tony's stern expression. "Well, I got hit by an explosive in Afghanistan. It's how they captured me… everyone knows that part. Remember the shrapnel I mentioned? The only way Yinsen could think to save me was to find some way to stop the shrapnel from entering my heart. The shrapnel is metal and the arc reactor powers the magnet that's preventing them from going anywhere they shouldn't be. Just don't give anyone else that information."
Tony stated it so casually that, if not for the creases tugging at the corners of his eyes, Harry would have second-guessed himself on how serious the situation actually was. A million questions flooded Harry's mind. Could his magic disable the device? Will it eventually quit on its own someday? Would Tony have enough time to react if that happened? Could his magic remove the shrapnel for him, making the reactor unnecessary?
In the end, Harry went with, "It's keeping you alive?"
"More or less."
"Is it dangerous?"
"Dangerous? Not anymore," Tony scoffed. At Harry's unsure expression, he added, "It had a… ah… malfunction, a few years back, but it's all good now. This baby will run for more than my lifetime and as long as it is, the shrapnel will stay away from my heart."
Harry's head bobbed, sorting through what he'd been told. "Does it hurt?"
"Never." Tony sharply answered. "Ok, not much anymore. Sometimes if I move at an odd angle."
Harry grinned. "So, which is it?"
Tony's brows lifted. "Depends on whom I'm talking to. To Pepper? Never. To myself? Occasionally. Nothing more than I can handle, though. Don't you worry, I'm not going anywhere, anytime soon."
"What about yours?" Thrown off by Tony's question, Harry touched his chest, as if expecting to have grown his own mini light there. But as soon as he looked up at Tony, he groaned because Tony had his finger aimed directly at Harry's forehead, almost touching his scar. "Something unique like that has to have a good story behind it. I bet it's cooler than a giant magnet in your chest."
Harry let out a sad, sarcastic laugh and combed his fringe down to cover the scar. "Sorry to disappoint you. I don't remember getting it. It happened the night of… the… erm…"
"You mean in the car accident?"
"Yeah, in the car accident," Harry said, playing along with the story his aunt and uncle had told him as a child; one Snape kept for simplicity's sake. "I really hate the bloody thing."
"Of course you do. Having a visual reminder of our darkest days is tough." Tony lightly tapped the arc reactor. The solid clink surprised Harry; proof it wasn't a tangible object and not just a circle of light. "At least for me, it also reminds me of how good can come from bad. For you, I imagine every time you look in the mirror you're reminded of losing your parents–"
"My mum," Harry automatically corrected, unsure why he'd done it and wishing he hadn't.
"It's fine, Harry," Tony waved off with a shake of his hand. "You spent fourteen years believing one thing… That this man was your father. It's become a part of who you are, part of your identity, and I don't expect you to forget him. I hope you know that. Trust me, I understand it takes more than blood to make someone a father. Hell, he probably changed your little diapers and I haven't done shit yet. He–" Tony rapidly snapped his finger with a slight hum as he thought, "–James! His name was James, right? I found a marriage certificate shortly after you were born for Lily Evans to James Potter."
James Potter .
Suddenly, all of Harry's blood drained from his face, and his palms sweat so much that he laid them palm-side down on the workbench, silently pleading the cool metal to calm him down. But it couldn't change how Tony had connected him to James Potter. The very name Snape had been adamant that Harry keep hidden for as long as possible, and he found it on the very first night. As his heart rate rose dramatically, his head got cloudy, making it impossible for him to think clearly enough to get himself out of this situation.
A loud pop and a bright yellow spark caused both of them to jump. Tony moved quickly to shield Harry as a second pop, followed by a larger spark, filled the air, forcing them and Harry's chair clear to the workbench behind them. Although he didn't feel any of the usual static associated with his accidental magic, Harry shut his eyes to concentrate on his breathing just in case: a deep breath in, hold, a deep breath out, repeat. He held his eyes closed for an entire minute until he heard Tony's footsteps heading away to assess the damage. Cracking his eyes, for fear of the damage he'd caused, he saw the formerly transparent screen they'd been working from — to build on the equation, with Tony adding notes along the way — had turned completely black with streams of black smoke spewing out from the side.
Oh , this is bad … This is very , very bad .
"Hey, JARVIS?" Tony asked, pure curiosity in his tone. "What the hell happened? How did… Why is my screen black?"
"Sir, there has been an electronic malfunction," the voice said. "Reboot has been unsuccessful."
"No shit," Tony muttered more to himself than Harry or JARVIS. "Any idea of what caused it?"
Harry thought he knew exactly what caused it. What else could it have been besides his magic? He swallowed hard, trying to keep himself calm waiting for JARVIS's assessment.
"I am still analyzing the environment," JARVIS dutifully replied. "This might take some time, Sir."
Tony frowned, clearly not liking the reply. He turned to Harry. "Are you alright? Nothing burned you?"
"No," Harry said quickly. "I mean, I'm alright."
"You sure? We've got a whole med-floor upstairs with burn cream, bandages, scanners–"
"I'm ok," Harry emphasized, to get his father's attention from his near-panicked rambling. "Really. Nothing got me."
"Oh, thank God."
Tony ran his hand over his chest, his face relaxing. In that moment, as he saw his father recover from his panic, Harry realized Tony had assumed his technology had caused the mini-explosion, and his relief came from knowing he hadn't hurt his son, not the other way around, as Harry knew had happened.
"JARVIS," Tony's gaze never left Harry as he spat out the instructions, "recover everything you can from the drives and reopen it on monitor twelve. I'll validate it tomorrow when I look through the incident report. We're done for tonight."
"That's an excellent idea, Sir. I would have recommended the same thing had you not."
Tony's dramatic eye roll made it difficult for Harry to hold a grin and a small laugh even escaped his lips.
"What do you say we go upstairs and fall asleep watching a movie?" Tony asked, wrapping his arm around Harry's shoulders to lead them towards the door. "Better yet. I have the best place to watch a movie in all of New York."
"There's a 'best place' to watch movies? Better than your living room?"
This was news to Harry, whose movie-watching came solely from either cracking the cupboard door or sitting on the third stair — close enough to peek down at the telly, but far enough up to be unnoticed and make a quick getaway when he heard his uncle or Dudley walking up the stairs. All he needed was a screen and film to be happy, but Tony's enthusiasm about it filled Harry with a childish delight, which he had to admit felt great.
"Ab-sol-utely," Tony exclaimed, drawing out each syllable. "We have a kickass theater designed and outfitted by yours truly that has the most comfortable recliners known to man. Seriously, even Steve falls asleep in them, although that might have more to do with the black-and-white films I tracked down for him than the comfort. It has the whole deal… blankets, pillows, snacks, popcorn… although if we're aiming to catch some sleep we may want to skip the food."
"Fine by me."
They paused near the lift, choosing to take that rather than go up several flights of stairs, and Tony's hands moved flippantly while they waited for the lift, "Now besides the theater room, that's where our place shines. Bruce's is a close second, but Pepper went heavy on a relaxing space for him so it's more about comfort than the optimal movie-watching experience."
Tony's casual remark of 'our place', with no hesitation at including Harry in his small family, sent a comforting feeling into Harry's heart.
The lift beeped, rather than dinged, and opened but Tony did not follow him inside. Tony pressed a few buttons on the inside panel and then said, "I'm going to walk upstairs to leave a note for Pepper. She'll worry if she wakes up and I'm not there and I'm not down here. JARVIS will let you into the theater and give you directions to the blankets and shit. Go pick your favorite seat, get settled and I promise I'll be right there."
Curious about Tony's insistence on taking the stairs instead of the lift with Harry, but not wanting to cause any more problems on the first night, Harry simply told him he'd see him up there.
The lift opened up to a bank of windows with the most spectacular view. At close to half-past three in the morning, the sky was dark except for the yellow glow of the city lights. And while he had no chance of seeing the stars through the light pollution like he could from Hogwarts' more remote location, it was stunning in a whole new, modern way to him, much like this new life he was embarking on.
In addition to the theater, JARVIS informed him that this floor also housed a gym with a hand-to-hand combat arena — a separate weapons area was on the floor above them —, a library, a communal kitchen, and a lounge. To guide Harry through the maze, small twinkling lights on the floor led him away from the welcoming windows and to a closet just outside two big double doors. A tiny click when Harry grabbed the handle unlocked the cabinet, which held a variety of blankets and pillows. The pillows were mostly the same, with minor variations of sizes and firmness, but the blankets were all unique, made of different fabrics, sizes, and thicknesses. There were several made of a cooling silk, suggesting that was a favorite among the residents, with a few in a plush soft fabric reminding him of the rabbit he occasionally saw while working in the Dursleys' garden, an old quilt neatly folded on the top shelf, and a thick comforter wedged along the side. Harry chose a thinner square pillow and a red, white, and black checkered blanket before following JARVIS's lights through the double doors and into the theater.
Harry had never been to the cinema. The Dursleys never took him and the Wizarding World hadn't progressed past the wireless. The theater in the Tower, however, surpassed anything he could have expected from a classic cinema. Five tiered rows of seating were each distinctive, just like the blankets and pillows. The row furthest from the screen — not a television like he expected to see — consisted of sofas and plush couches. Some were fabric, some were leather, and they could seat two to four people; more if they squished and less if they sprawled out. The next row was all powered recliners, and like everything else, there was more than one kind. Because Tony specifically said they were the most comfortable recliners known to man, Harry assumed this row was Tony's favorite. He tested three different chairs, deciding on an overstuffed beige microfiber one near the middle of the row and between a white leather and red velvet one. The final three rows in front of him were a mix of sofas, recliners, and chaises.
Settling into the recliner, Harry placed his pillow behind his neck, pleased with the size and shape he had chosen, and arranged the blanket just as a ray of light from the doors announced Tony's arrival. He had a full-sized rectangle pillow under one arm and a silky red blanket folded over the other, which he tossed onto the white leather recliner to Harry's right before plopping himself into the seat.
It took several minutes for Tony to accept that Harry hadn't seen a lot of movies, and after a frustrating game of "how about this or that" transitioning into "have you seen this or that" Tony selected the original Star Wars — strangely starting on Episode 4 — as their inaugural movie night; the first of many, Tony assured him. Harry, though, had no chance of seeing the end. Between his nightmare, potential accidental magic frying Tony's computer, and the extravagant accommodations of the theater room, he fell fast asleep less than fifteen minutes into the film.
Chapter Text
"Wait a second, you were serious about the kid thing?!"
"Oh, I'm sorry. How else did you interpret my middle-of-the-night 'you have a fourteen-year-old nephew, and I need a favor' message?"
Seeing Rhodey, Tony's best friend in the world, sitting across from him on the sofa in his living room and staring at the holograph of Harry still fast asleep in the theater upstairs, calmed Tony's fraying nerves in a way no one else could. Pepper may have been the ray of optimism in the churning sea of uncertainty, but in all the years Tony and Rhodey had known each other, Tony had yet to encounter a situation in which talking to Rhodey couldn't fix. And right now the mystery surrounding Harry was the largest problem plaguing Tony's mind.
After Harry's odd tremor episode at the end of dinner, whatever had woken him up in the middle of the night — Tony was pretty sure it wasn't just jet lag, though the real reason remained a mystery — and the unusual computer incident in the workshop, Harry seemed completely drained when the elevator doors closed to take him to the theater. So it came as no surprise that Harry fell asleep less than thirty minutes into the movie. That had been Tony's plan when he suggested watching a movie. And since Tony did most of his best work with little to no sleep, much to the dismay of Pepper and JARVIS, he asked JARVIS to play soft music in the room as soon as the movie ended and went back to his workshop to investigate what could have fried his systems.
Unfortunately, his investigation ended before it began, as JARVIS informed him that there were no reports of the event at all. Skeptical at believing another anomaly had occurred, Tony asked JARVIS to provide him whatever data he had regarding the event so he could analyze it himself. Everything in the room seemed perfectly normal while Tony and Pepper were there chatting, and continued that way when Tony came back with Harry about an hour later. Things were steady until they started working on his suit, and then there was a surge of energy JARVIS couldn't quantify or trace back to any known source. The report ended just moments before his screens blew up, but leading up to it there were no signs of this unknown energy growing or shifting. Lost for any logical explanation, Tony turned his attention to validating the data JARVIS thankfully recovered, wrapped up the final touches on his suit, and closed everything down right as JARVIS notified him of Rhodey's arrival.
Finally!
Rhodey ran into Tony as he was leaving his lab, and by the time they got back to Tony's floor, Pepper had already left, although she had a pot of coffee ready for Tony and a note letting him know she'd return soon with breakfast. As they settled into their favorite spots on the couches, Tony brought up the live feed of Harry in the theater, completely unaware that Rhodey had assumed his urgent message had been some sort of practical joke. How could he have known his best friend in the world didn't believe his frantic middle-of-the-night message?
"Well, I don't know, Tony, it certainly wouldn't be the most outrageous lie you've told me to get my attention," Rhodey argued.
Tony couldn't really blame him. After all, he had once called Rhodey claiming a swarm of bees had taken residence in his lab when in reality he'd just needed an opinion on what to wear to the Maria Stark Foundation dinner. Thankfully, Rhodey had been on his way, anyway. Still, Rhodey had given him a stern lecture on not using his allergy in that way again and had since refused to let Tony live it down.
"You make a solid point," Tony conceded. Nodding towards the holographic image projected on the table of Harry still asleep in the theater, Tony asked, "So what do you think?"
"I mean, he does look a lot like you. Not that dark hair and sharp jawline are considered defining features," he replied, which felt more than a bit patronizing. Rhodey grabbed the tablet with the paternity results and took his time reading through each line. "I can't say I'm shocked. In those days you were pushing the limit on condom stats by sheer quantity, so a kid was bound to show up. I just kind of thought it'd be sooner and the kid to be a touch younger. Are you sure the mother doesn't want anything? She just dropped him off and peaced out?"
Tony grimaced involuntarily, more for Harry's sake than his own. The deeper he dug into Harry's past, the less Tony liked what he read. The kid's history was filled with death, abandonment, neglect and abuse, and inevitably there would come a day when Harry put two-and-two together and blamed Tony for it — for not being there to take him in after his parents' death. Not that Tony should have been responsible for a goldfish in those days, let alone a toddler, or knew anything about his existence at all, but teenagers weren't known for their top-notch critical thinking skills. Even as a genius, if Tony had lived what little he knew of Harry's life, he would have easily blamed his dad for it. Finally, he answered, "She died in a home gas explosion when he was only fifteen months old."
Swapping the tablet for his coffee mug, Rhodey asked, "So, where's he been all this time? Why now?"
Tony sighed as he reclined against the cushion behind him, trying to conceal how unsettled his nerves were from the entire situation. "Until yesterday he lived with his aunt and uncle in England who, for reasons I have yet to uncover, had their rights revoked last week."
Tony spent the next few minutes sharing with Rhodey his brief history in Cambridge, how he met Lily Evans right before his parents died, and catching him up on the events of the past two days, cutting the story off at dinner last night. As expected, Rhodey interrupted him to ask how the hell someone unauthorized had accessed his floor — a valid question Tony still had no definitive answer for — yet for the most part he listened intently, keeping himself busy by watching Harry's sleeping form hovering above the coffee table, taking several too long sips of coffee, and feigning interest in test results for the umpteenth time, as if searching for some hidden mistake deep within them.
"You have a kid, Tones," Rhodey stated, filling the silent stretch once Tony finished his story as he rotated the three-dimensional hologram of Harry around.
Tony groaned. Rodney really needed to get past that tiny detail so they could move on to the more serious issues at hand. "Yeah, I kind of got that part of it all, thanks."
"No, I'm not sure you do. If I know you, and we both know I do, then you've kept yourself busy and you haven't taken a second to process any of this."
Sometimes Tony hated having a best friend. To avoid confirming Rhodey's suspicion, Tony casually countered with, "You're not my shrink, Rhodey."
"This is serious, Tony!" He pushed Tony's phone with the projection and the tablet aside, effectively clearing the table of any distractions between them. The coffee remained untouched. Even upset, he knew Tony would skin him alive for touching his much needed caffeine. "If you're going to keep him–"
"Keep him? Like a lost puppy?"
"–it's not something you can half-ass your way through. You know you have to parent him, right? And not just for the next few weeks while this is all shiny, new, and fun. You are this kid's–"
"Harry. His name is Harry," Tony argued at the same time Rhodey finished with, "-parent for the rest of your life."
"Dammit!" Tony slammed his palm onto the table, taking pleasure in his friend's slight jump. It took a lot to startle James Rhodes and pushing Tony to his limit had done just that. "Thank you for mentioning it because I knew I was forgetting something. Do you happen to know the return policy on teenagers? Because you're right, I should just take him back… you know, seeing as he has so many better options to choose from."
Rhodey's expression remained serious through Tony's small tantrum. Obviously, Rhodey was panicking over this more than Tony, and he didn't even know half the shit Tony had — or hadn't — found.
"Yeah, parenting… I got that part too," Tony said, barely keeping his anger in check. "Thanks for the confidence in me not screwing the kid up, though, it's been a real treat to hear."
"Ok, then, what about school?" Rhodey challenged, his arms tightly bound around his chest, as if school, of all things, was the biggest worry at the moment. Peter's school was currently on summer break, so Tony figured he had at least a couple of weeks to work out the hidden school issue. But Rhodey didn't budge. "Have you thought about where to send him?"
"Done. A super-secret boarding school," Tony stated, curtly. If Rhodey wanted an honest answer, Tony would give it to him.
"Tony!"
Lifting his hands up, Tony laughed. "I'm actually serious on that one! And, trust me, the kid's got bigger problems than where to go to school. Hence the favor I need… or it's more help to decipher up from down than a favor."
Rhodey scoffed. "Yeah, well with your genes, I wouldn't expect anything less."
"Now who's the one not being serious?"
Releasing a frustrated breath, Rhodey pinched his eyes closed momentarily, his head softly shaking. "Fine, I'll bite. What kind of problems are we talking about? Drugs?"
"Unlikely." At least Tony didn't get the impression Harry had any kind of hidden drug habit, however, to cover his bases he added it to his mental list to investigate. In fact, he also added getting a full physical from Tony's on-staff physician. Parents were supposed to take their kids to the doctor, for vaccines and stuff, and none of that was listed in Harry's scarce medical records. For all he knew, on top of whatever caused Harry's shaking last night, the kid also had some serious allergy and one unknown meal would put him into anaphylactic shock.
Oblivious to Tony's mental tangent, Rhodey guessed, "Psychotic?"
"No."
"Delusional?"
"Not likely."
"A gang?"
Tony swayed his head side-to-side, trying to determine if, and how, the newspaper image of the professor and the school explosion fit into all of this. Hesitantly he replied, "Possibly."
"Jesus, Tony!" Reaching his limit, Rhodey pushed off the couch and paced the area in front of it. "How bad are we talking?"
"I don't know, exactly. That's the problem. He's… he's got a sketchy past–"
"How sketchy?"
"Like practically non-existent." Tony rested his elbows on his knees and let the story unfold off his chest. "Yes, I was putting off thinking about all this… mess… so I figured I'd do some research on him. Except I couldn't find anything under his legal name, Harry Anthony Evans. Instead, I found the shitty life of Harry Potter… Potter being Lily's husband married after Harry was born. They go through elementary school and then nothing. He went completely off the grid in the fall after he turned eleven. And his mom? Lily Evans? Same story. Literally the same post-elementary school poof." His hands sprung in the air to visually show the two disappearing. "I don't know what to think, Rhodey. I've got this kid I know nothing about, who lost two sets of guardians in almost fifteen years, and who I can't help but think sounds like he's reading off a script whenever we talk. I can't find any history on him, and the little I found looks bad… really bad."
"Maybe a cult?" Rhodey offered, and Tony appreciated his non-judgemental tone in his suggestion. Leave it to Tony Stark to have a son born into some secret cult life that stole kids at eleven.
"Maybe," Tony admitted, although he didn't like the sound of a cult any better than the terrorist group he was already considering. "It would fit the glaring gaps in his and his mother's history, at least.
"And there's definitely some form of abuse going on," he added reluctantly. He swapped the tablet screen from the paternity test to the images JARVIS found of an elementary-aged Harry in worn clothes and bruising and handed it to Rhodey to examine. "I doubt Harry will admit to any of it, but I found pictures and a few police reports suggesting someone was hitting and neglecting him. My bet is the aunt, uncle, and cousin. Naturally, the reports stopped when he went off to boarding school, which I wasn't exaggerating when I said it's super-secret because I also can't find any record of him attending it despite him providing me with the physical copies of his school records."
"Yeah, this isn't looking promising, Tony," Rhodey agreed with a low hum, scanning the few documents Tony showed him. "Are you sure this is legitimate, and he's not some kind of Trojan horse? It wouldn't be the wildest thing we've seen here."
"I considered it." And to his core, Tony hated hearing himself admit to it. Now having actually met Harry, if the kid was some kind of weapon, Tony was sure he didn't know about it. "Bruce ran the test four times, twice each on his blood and cheek swab. All four had the same result. We also had JARVIS discreetly check the coding for any breaches or tampering. Nothing. Regardless of the reason for him showing up, it doesn't change the fact that he is my son. "
"I can do some digging on my end, see what I can find," Rhodey offered. "You said his alias is Harry Potter?"
Tony let out a long hiss at the term 'alias'. The words made it sound like they were putting Harry in the same class of people the team was currently out hunting. Still, he gave his friend the information he needed for the request, providing Harry's full pseudonym, Harry James Potter, his birthday, Lily and her husband's — Harry's stepfather's — names, and the circumstances of Harry arriving in his aunt's care, being found at their doorstep, of all things, and the issued a birth certificate under his new name the day prior. While he also sent over the files of Harry's potential abuse, he kept everything on the professor for himself. Some pieces he needed to handle on his own, and that was one of them.
"Like I said," Tony reiterated, bringing them full circle, "there's nothing else there. Sure, on the surface, it looks like this perfectly logical, albeit sad, story of an orphaned kid, yet as soon as I try to dig for anything tangible, I keep coming up empty-handed."
Rhodey paused his reading to glare up at Tony from his phone. "You realize there are places your bots can't hack."
"First off, no one says hack anymore. I don't know how many times I have to tell you," Tony pointed out, heading to the kitchen to refill his coffee and taking comfort in the warmth of his first sip. Making the solid decision that he needed something in his stomach besides coffee, he grabbed the leftover cheese pizza box out of the fridge. Cold pizza was a necessity for problem-solving at this level. Mouth full of pizza, he added, "And two, JARVIS is not a bot."
"Oh, excuse me," Rhodey dramatically draped his hand across his chest, "I meant your firstborn… or is he technically your second born now?"
Tony screwed his eyes up to think about the timeline of JARVIS's conception. Which level of the code's completion considered him to be born? If it had to be his most current form, then he definitely shifted to the secondborn, however, Tony had started the concept of JARVIS in his MIT days; long before Lily Evans walked into the picture.
"Don't hurt yourself thinking that through," Rhodey sarcastically said, suddenly standing in front of him and yanking the pizza box out of Tony's hands to get his own slice. "What does Pepper think of all of this? You were enough to handle on your own without becoming a step-mom to a shady teenager."
Tony winced as he nervously tapped his left fingers on the counter. He had intentionally avoided the step-mother term when he and Pepper finally had the chance to discuss the situation yesterday, between the lawyer meeting and dinner; while Harry and the possible terrorist professor said their mysterious goodbyes. Not once had Pepper mentioned leaving, or stepping aside to give Tony and Harry space. That was a good sign. Throughout the custody meeting, he'd been terrified she would try to remove herself and he didn't know what he'd do if she had. On the other hand, while she had been warm and welcoming towards Harry, to Tony she fell into her assistant mode, focusing on tasks they needed to do to help Harry settle in, so they actually hadn't had a real conversation about it all yet. What they needed to talk about were things like: how Harry would fit into their lives, what impact it would have on Tony's role in Stark Industries, and, the one sure to be on the top of Pepper's mind, how would this change role with the Avengers. Could Tony really go out with the team knowing he could very well orphan his son for the second — or technically third — time on any given mission? To Pepper's credit, she didn't jump right into it as he assumed she would, but they also needed to address it sooner rather than later.
Thankfully, he never had to answer on Pepper's behalf because she walked into the kitchen balancing bags of food from the SI kitchen along her arms.
"Speak of the—"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Tony," she warned, placing the bags on the bar side of the counter and setting out boxes of French toast, sausage, scrambled eggs, toast, and a basket of assorted pastries. Handing him a tall smoothie he loved to start his morning with on the days he actually showed up to the office, she let out an annoyed sigh at the sight of the pizza box behind Tony. "My note literally said I was bringing breakfast."
"We didn't see it," Tony quipped, charmingly.
"Interesting, so where did you get your coffee?" she countered. A small smile crept up the corners of her lips and made Tony's heart flutter.
As if reading his mind, she rounded the corner and wrapped her arms around his neck. Not giving Rhodey a second glance, she placed small, soft kisses down the side of his neck, making his lie all the harder to convincingly stammer. "The… coffee… uh… downstairs… uh… Rhodey brought it."
Tony shrugged at Rhodey's scowl.
"Of course, he did. Good thing JARVIS warned me he was on his way. There's plenty extra to go around." Pepper swung around to grab an extra plate from the cabinet and set it with the other three at the breakfast bar, only then noticing Harry's absence. "Wait, where's Harry?"
With his hands on Pepper's shoulders, he led her to the living room and gestured to the holographic image of Harry displayed from the phone sitting on the coffee table. "Still asleep in the theater."
"You left him alone?" Pepper exclaimed as a small, yet firm, slap landed on his chest. "He can't even use the elevator to get onto our floor yet."
"Hey, now! JARVIS will get him up here when he's awake."
Sitting back at the breakfast bar, they divided out the food and placed Harry's in the microwave for later. Tony frowned at Pepper's almost empty plate, a single croissant and a small helping of eggs. She didn't even sit to eat, merely took a bite here or there while gathering books and notepads from around the living room or their bedroom. It perfectly demonstrated how they really were the quintessential big city 'business couple', always on the go and hardly an ideal lifestyle to raise a teenager, particularly one who was thrust into this lifestyle randomly, not born into it. Tony may have hated having a nanny past the age of eight, but he kind of — if he squinted hard and turned his head slightly — understood why his parents had kept one around.
"I can't stay this morning," Pepper said, unknowingly confirming Tony's turmoil about their busy schedules. "I double booked everything from yesterday into today hoping I can slip out of a few meetings a touch early. Doing it this way I'll be caught up by dinner. I'm also trying to lighten the schedule for the next two weeks."
"Lightening is good," Tony said, between a sip of his drink and a bite of egg. He could do a lighter schedule temporarily… until they learned the dynamics of Harry. "We've got the R thing at noon, right?"
Pepper shook her head. "You're not going. I completely cleared your schedule for today… and don't even pretend to be sad, we both know you weren't going to show up to half of it, anyway."
Although Pepper might know Tony better than anyone on the planet, she clearly didn't know him well enough if she thought he'd find an excuse to skip out of the monthly R showcase luncheon. Out of all his SI duties it was the only one he liked because he got to deal directly with the people building the tech, rather than the board of directors, marketing, and sales side of the business. Preferring more of the hands-on work, meetings involving a bunch of numbers and charts instantly put him to sleep. Plus, Tony enjoyed talking to the R guys. They were like Bruce for the SI side of his life, and by the end, what was usually a two-hour update on the projects in their pipeline ended up being four hours and dissolved into brainstorming one ridiculously impossible idea after another. Or so the R department thought. Tony kept all the notes from their meetings for future work. Occasionally they popped up at a future meeting, tweaked by Tony to have some chance of success and fully funded.
"They're the only department I can tolerate," Tony argued knowing full well he'd already lost the battle. "Maybe Harry should come? See how his old man handles the ropes."
Harry's future with SI was yet another topic Tony was actively avoiding and thankfully Pepper hadn't brought it up. As a family-owned business, as soon as they introduced Harry to the world, he'd be expected to follow in Tony and Howard's footsteps. Having long given up on the notion of a child successor, nothing would honestly make Tony prouder. Except, Harry's little interest in Tony's lab — and frankly his lack of knowledge at fourteen — didn't give Tony much confidence in him taking the reins someday. Of course, given last night's little field trip had been at two o'clock in the morning on day number one, he supposed he could give the kid a break and leave the decision of SI's future for another day.
As Tony knew she would, Pepper flat-out refused his suggestion. "No, we can't go parading him around before we've announced him as your son."
"Heir," Rhodey spoke up. "Isn't that the term you people use?"
Tony balled up a triangle of toast and tossed it at his friend two chairs down. "You're not helping."
Rhodey tossed the bread back, and Tony plopped it in his mouth. "Besides," Rhodey said through a satisfyingly disgusted grimace, "don't those meetings take forever? I think Steve, Natasha, and Clint are due back this afternoon. You should plan to be pulled in for the debrief."
Tony swiveled his chair to look at Pepper, his eyebrows lifted in silent question. Although Tony usually placed Avengers debriefs somewhere near accounting and board meetings, Tony added a stronger magnet on Cap's shield last week. So despite how interesting chasing down their lead on the two missing teenagers from Sokovia sounded to Steve, Tony really only wanted to go to hear how the upgrade did in the field.
Not realizing how badly Tony wanted to go, Pepper stated, "That one you can do."
Perfect. Now he only had to fill in a few hours of the day with… well, he wasn't entirely sure what to do with Harry. "So what else do you have for me today?"
She exhaled her exhausted 'Tony I cannot continue to micromanage your life while running your company, but secretly enjoy it' sigh. "Yesterday afternoon, I told Harry we'd take him shopping. His backpack is the only thing he brought with him. I asked about other things from England and he said there wasn't anything else waiting to come over."
Rhodey and Tony shared a concerned look, and without breaking it Tony answered Pepper with a peppy, "I love shopping. Got it."
"Given the situation, I think you should do it all online," Pepper advised, seriously. "And sensible clothes, Tony. Remember, he's fourteen."
Formulating a plan in his head of what the afternoon could look like, Tony chose his next words carefully to avoid lying later. "Sensible, teenage clothes… check. Anything else?"
Pepper packed up her SI bag, silently telling Tony their conversation was pretty much over. "Happy needs his biometrics to set up his security access. Beyond that, I'm sure you'll figure something out. Now I have to go… I'm late for PR to strategize how to get ahead of all this."
Focused on their plans for the day, they all missed the door opening until Harry appeared at the entrance of the kitchen. His shabby oversized shirt and sweatpants were wrinkled, he had thick dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was literally standing up in all different directions — reminiscent of Tony's hair in the years before he learned proper styling for the mess.
With confusion in the same bright green, kind eyes Tony remembered as Lily's, their son looked around the kitchen and gently asked, "Ahead of what?"
ooOoo
Three pairs of eyes were staring, uneasily, at Harry as he stood at the entrance of the kitchen waiting for one of them to answer him. The first two sets belonged to Tony and Pepper. Tony was sitting at the breakfast bar — actually eating breakfast, hence the name he supposed — with Pepper standing behind him and picking food from a plate on the corner of the bar while simultaneously packing a leather messenger-style bag. Unlike Tony who was still dressed in the clothes he had on last night, Pepper's gray and white smart business suit highlighted her CEO position at Stark Industries; where she was obviously heading off to soon.
The last pair of eyes came from a man seated on Tony's left, an empty chair between them, casually eating bites of eggy toast that he dipped in syrup before eating them. He looked vaguely familiar to Harry, but Harry couldn't place where they might have crossed paths, and his blue military uniform gave little to go on in identifying him.
"Who are you?" Harry boldly asked the new man.
Tony's face lit up and waved Harry around the breakfast bar, excitedly introducing them, "Harry, this is your Uncle Rhodey. Honey Bear, meet my son, Harry Evans."
Apparently, Tony's animosity at titles was more about the term father than son, and all at once a rush of unexpected emotions hit Harry at hearing Tony call him his son. Harry had no memories of anyone calling him their son. To keep his cool in front of the man he safely assumed was a "friend uncle" like Sirius and Remus rather than a blood relative like Aunt Petunia or a married relative like Uncle Vernon, Harry swallowed back those rising emotions.
Rhodey — Harry refused to jump to referring to him as Uncle — stood up from his chair, rim-rod straight in front of Harry, and held his hand to his forehead, in salute. "Colonel James Rhodes, US Air Force," he said sharply and froze like he was waiting for Harry to do something.
What that was, Harry had no clue. And worse, he wanted to turn right around and go to his bedroom. Figuring doing so would be a bad first impression, Harry stuttered out, "Uh-u-umm…" hoping Tony or Pepper, supposedly the sensible one of the couple Harry now lived with, would put him out of his misery. Neither of them did, though. Instead, they continued to watch him for the ten excruciatingly long and uncomfortable seconds Rhodey let it continue.
"I'm just kidding," Rhodey said with a side smile, and then patted Harry on the shoulder. "It's Uncle Rhodey to you. Welcome to Casa de Stark. Maybe you being around will keep Tony in line and give me and Pepper a break from it."
"Good luck on that," Pepper muttered. Turning to Tony she added, "I really have to go. I'll text you about plans tonight. It's not a bad idea to send out for some decent groceries and cook tonight."
Tony winked at Harry, then turned to Pepper. "Don't worry about it, I'll handle it. I'll even throw in the beets and peanuts you like for a salad."
"They're chickpeas, Tony, not peanuts," Pepper corrected. Sounding more amused than frustrated, Harry gathered they had this conversation often.
Less than a second after the door closed behind Pepper, Tony clapped his hands, startling Harry's attention to him. "Ok! Let's get this day started. First, breakfast. Harry, you have a plate of breakfast in the microwave. JARVIS, warm it up for him."
A soft hum from the microwave confirmed the AI did as Tony asked. No numbers came up on the screen, so Harry didn't know how long JARVIS set it for or how he knew how long to set it for. But when it dinged, the food on the plate — more than Harry could actually eat — was at the perfect temperature.
"Cups and glasses are in that cabinet," Tony pointed to the one above the coffee maker next to the refrigerator. "Juice is in the fridge and coffee is in the pot. Or actually, you're British. So do you drink tea? Pepper has an entire basket of tea in the pantry, fancy flavors and all too. Help yourself to it. The coffee maker dispenses hot water from the little knob on the side."
Rhodey beat Harry in responding, "Just so you know, they drink coffee in England too."
"Thank God for that. You'll learn I literally can't function without coffee," Tony exclaimed to Harry. "So pick your poison. I think the juice of the week is some combination of orange, mango, and banana, and we have plain orange too with lots of pulp because Pepper thinks there's some magic in it or something like that for your body."
Half-listening to Tony and Rhodey argue about the benefits of juice pulp, Harry opened one of the nicest refrigerators he'd ever seen. And also one of the emptiest. Three cartons of juice sat on the middle shelf, beneath the four leftover pizza boxes from dinner. A variety of condiments, ranging from soy sauce to three different salad dressings, packed the door shelves. The fruit drawer had a half-full container of blueberries and a few stray oranges and apples, while the vegetable drawer held only a bag of salad and a few stalks of celery. It was no surprise that Pepper made the comment about buying groceries since not a single meal could be made from the current contents of the fridge.
"Got any pumpkin juice?" Harry asked to see Tony's reaction to such an odd request.
"Pumpkin juice?" Tony whispered to Rhodey. "That's a new one. Another British thing?"
"We always have that with breakfast at school," Harry said with a shrug.
Harry poured himself a glass of the chunky orange juice — Tony's rather accurate description of it — and took a seat at the end of the breakfast bar, where Pepper had been sitting, rather than the seat sandwiched between them they had clearly left open for him. If either of them noticed Harry's strategic choice, they didn't comment on it. Harry picked at his breakfast while listening to Rhodey tell him about meeting Tony at MIT, and later working with him as a liaison for the US Air Force and Stark Industries, back when SI's primary focus was building weapons. To Harry, appointing the best friend of their manufacturer as their liaison made the US no-maj government sound as biased as the Wizarding Ministry in Britain, giving him little hope that the Magical Congress of the United States would be any better than Minister Fudge. With any luck, Harry would never cross paths with MACUSA, making it a moot point.
Rhodey continued by explaining how he became the icon "War Machine" — an excessively violent name, not that anyone asked Harry's opinion on it — by stealing one of Tony's suits and fighting Tony, in his own house, then refusing to return it. Neither of them mentioned anything about it, but Harry saw the story as evidence of Tony's value in their friendship. Harry didn't think he'd be as willing to forgive Ron if he had stolen Harry's invisibility cloak to hex Harry in the Great Hall. Then again, even though Ron only apologized after seeing how utterly disadvantaged Harry was against the dragon, and not trusting Harry's word from the start, Harry never considered not forgiving Ron for throwing away their friendship simply because he believed Harry had entered the bloody tournament. So Harry mentally added 'forgives easily' to the growing list of traits he and Tony shared.
Harry attempted to slip away to his room several times, but whenever he stood, Tony would dive into another exciting story from his and Rhodey's adventures, leaving Harry no choice but to stay and listen. As the stories flowed one after another, Harry eventually found himself hanging on every word. By the end, Harry was convinced of two things: for better or worse, Tony was a Gryffindor through and through, much like himself, with little regard for self-preservation, and that Tony and Rhodey were truly more like brothers than just best friends. In fact, they reminded Harry a lot of Fred and George.
Unfortunately, the superhero stories stopped right around the time Harry finished his breakfast, a coincidence that did not go unnoticed by Harry.
"So here's the deal for today," Tony stated as he grabbed Harry's empty plate before Harry got the chance to go wash it. He tossed it, almost defiantly, to his other side where it wobbled around before settling on the countertop, thankfully still in one piece. "I heard you can use a few more clothes and stuff… nope, you don't get a say in this one," he rattled off, stopping Harry's incoming rebuttal, "Pepper suggested online–"
"Tony…" Rhodey tried to warn, but Tony ignored it.
"–but I'm going to guess that the most you've seen of New York is wherever you stayed in Queens before coming here yesterday. And since Queens is not Manhattan, I think we need to get out and see the city, do some shopping, have some lunch, and grab a few groceries so I can attempt to cook you something that passes as healthy. Trust me, there is no better way to tour than with yours truly. What do you say? We'll leave the wet blanket-" his thumb jutted out to Rhodey, "-here and make it just the two of us. And Happy because the one thing I hate about New York, and desperately miss about Malibu, is driving in the city. Plus, this way I can show you all the cool kid spots."
Putting aside the embarrassment of needing clothes, what Harry really wanted was to head to his room and maybe write a letter to his friends — one he knew he could never actually send. But between the excitement pouring off Tony in waves and Rhodey sending Harry a look like he was silently begging him to be the sensible one, Harry really didn't want to say no. It didn't help that Harry knew if he spent the day locked away in his room he would be tempted to use his mirror to contact Sirius, and Snape had made it absolutely clear that he couldn't contact anyone unless it was an emergency. Plus, he'd have to leave the Tower eventually, so as long as he covered his scar — just in case the American magical community knew about him — he might as well get it over with.
"Yeah," Harry replied, although not as confidently as he would have liked to appear. "Can I shower quickly first?"
"Absolutely." Tony gave Harry's knee a slap. "You get ready, I've got a few calls to make and I'll ask Happy to get the car ready. You're going to love it. And Rhodey… you…"
"Oh, don't worry about me. I'll be hanging around to watch the fireworks when Pepper finds out."
Notes:
Unfortunately, my real life has taken some unexpected twists (and a few fires to put out) which has taken me away from writing :( Since I have close to 70k words written (through chatper 20), I'm going to focus on editing for the next few chapters to give me time to catch up on the writing side so hopefully there won't be as much time to wait for the next chapter.
Chapter 10: Let's Go Shopping
Notes:
I took some liberties in this chapter with Tony's background. It's just a little add-on that doesn't really impact the plots/storyline all that much. Thank you to everyone reading/subscribing/commenting! Enjoy :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Harry knew nothing about cars, something Tony quickly promised they'd fix during their summer together. Harry couldn't even remember the car Uncle Vernon drove despite the endless boring hours he'd spent staring at the logo on the bloody steering wheel whenever the Dursleys left him in the car to do their shopping "in peace". Tony Stark, on the other hand, obviously loved cars. Fast cars, luxurious cars, foreign cars, it didn't seem to matter what type, the man could name the brand and year of almost any car, as well as rattle off a list of stats and engine types. But Harry didn't need to know a single thing about cars, hot rods, or any other vehicle to know that all of Tony's cars — or at least the half-dozen he saw in the garage on their way to the black Audi waiting for them where Happy stood beside open the rear driver's door — were luxurious and very expensive; two qualities that made Harry nervous as he stepped carefully into the back seat.
"Where to, Boss?" Happy asked from the driver's seat once Tony unexpectedly slid into the rear passenger seat next to Harry. It left Harry feeling more claustrophobic than sharing the back with Dudley, and no one in the front with Happy.
Clicking away on his phone, Tony never looked up as he answered, "I scheduled an appointment with Suzanne. Figured we'd knock out the clothing and bedroom stuff first. They'll be discreet and, with any luck, it'll be a one stop shop for everything Harry needs."
Harry looked down at his clothing choices for the day, more embarrassed than anything about his options. Except for his torn up shoes, under any other circumstances the new loose-fitting blue jeans — Pepper must have underestimated how below average Harry was compared to a typical British fifteen-year-old — Harry picked with his better quality dark red t-shirt would have been perfect for a casual day in New York City. After putting on the black Stark Industries ball cap and the pair of dark sunglasses designed to fit over his glasses, which Tony gave him on their way out the door, Harry actually thought he looked pretty decent. However, when he compared himself to Tony and Happy, he felt wildly underdressed. Happy wore clothes almost identical to yesterday, an all-black suit with a simple white shirt, just as a driver or bodyguard would wear in any movie, and given the type of vehicle they were sitting in, it made sense. Tony had swapped his casual morning clothing for a crisp suit that Harry estimated cost more than all of Harry's belongings put together. He didn't think he'd ever be comfortable in his father's world.
"Then we're going to Josephine's for lunch," Tony went on. To Happy or Harry? Harry did not know, and Tony didn't seem to care. "She's expecting us around one-thirty and for Josephine, I'd actually like to be in the ballpark of that time. On our way home from lunch, we'll grab some groceries. Just enough to get us through the weekend until I can come up with a better plan. I might be a bit late for the team's debriefing, but they can wait for me. Trust me, none of us want to meet before they've gotten cleaned up, anyway."
An awkward silence passed between the three people in the car, with Tony's constant clicking of the keys on his phone and the traffic — oddly quieter than Harry would have guessed — the only sounds to break it up. When the silence became too much, and thinking maybe Tony was waiting for Harry to weigh in on their plans, Harry said, "Erm, I don't think shopping should take that long. I have enough clothes to get through the summer, especially if I do the washing every few days. And then my school uses uniforms. You can't buy those from a regular store, but most of mine from last year still fit."
At best, both of Harry's arguments stretched the truth; at worst, they were outright lies. In reality, while a few of Dudley's shirts were decent so long as he didn't leave their floor, none of his jeans were acceptable. It left him with the two from Pepper, both a touch too big in the waist and length but nothing a belt and rolled up cuffs couldn't fix, and one decent pair from Ron. His shirts were looking better. He bought a few muggle style t-shirts from Diagon Alley last summer, and they were in good condition and fit. School would be a whole different obstacle to tackle. For starters, all of his school things were still at Privet Drive, and Uncle Vernon had most likely burned everything when they discovered he had left. So, other than the few books he brought with him and his wand, he'd have to get creative in replacing everything. A problem for another day.
Harry's response must have caught only off guard. His head snapped up from his phone, surprised, and just stared at Harry, slowly putting together who he'd actually been talking to.
"Oh shit," Tony exclaimed, his brows knitted together in confusion. "Did I just information-dump on you? You see, I do that sometimes. I'll get in the zone as I'm typing and forget I'm not talking to Pepper. And I shouldn't even be dealing with any of this anyway while I'm here." He shook his phone in front of Harry, making a big show of him sleeping it into his pocket. "Gone. No more distractions. I promise, only Pepper calls for the rest of the day.
"It's fine. I don't mind."
Harry, of course, had become used to the Dursleys ignoring him throughout the summer, he actually meant what he said. One year, they went four days without saying a single word to him, relying instead on snapping and pointing to get his attention. Just in case it was supposed to be a punishment, Harry never mentioned how wonderful those four quiet days were. So, no, Harry didn't care if Tony needed to work here or there. At least was present and hadn't kicked Harry out. Besides, based on what he'd seen of the company and in Tony's private workshop, Harry saw how essential his new father was to his business and to the United States government — both of which were more important than Harry. He also had the feeling Tony looked for excuses to ignore phone calls he didn't want to take, and Harry wouldn't mind him using their day out as that excuse.
"But, that means you too, though," Tony added, shaking a finger at Harry. "Phone off."
"Erm…" Harry's face heated up. How could he admit to the tech genius he landed with as a father that he doesn't have a phone?
Misinterpreting Harry's hesitation, Tony lifted his eyebrows and asked, "Waiting on a girl to call?"
"No!"
His hands lifted in innocence. "A boy? That's totally cool too."
"No, that's not what I meant. There's no girl… or boy," Harry stammered. He wanted to stay far away from the topic of his dating life, or lack thereof. "It's that… erm… I don't… I don't have a phone."
"What?" Tony snapped at him. "What do you mean you don't have a phone? You go to a boarding school hundreds of miles from home and you don't have a phone? How do you contact anyone at home? Email from a computer? That's inconvenient."
Harry almost laughed at the irony. He'd known his father a whole day, and he already thought about Harry contacting home, whereas his relatives were perfectly fine never hearing from him during the school year. It was an oddly good problem to face for once.
"I just don't have one," Harry answered. "I write letters if I need to contact anyone."
"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that." Tony gave his head a small shake in disbelief as he pulled his phone out one more time and began typing. "Last message, I promise… there… you'll have the latest StarkPhone waiting for you by the time we get home. It's a US phone number, but you'll be able to call out internationally if any of your friends back in England have a phone."
"Some do and some don't," Harry said, confident that Hermione had a mobile, or at least a landline. Ron didn't even have a landline so he definitely wouldn't have one. Not that he could contact either of them under the current circumstances.
Maybe someday.
As they drove on, Harry listened to Tony point out all the interesting sites from behind the tinted car window. They drove by Rockefeller Center, Times Square, a collection of museums and theaters that Harry probably would never remember, and Central Park, which surprised him to see such a vast green space surrounded by concrete. Having never left the United Kingdom, known for its quaint villages, peaceful cobblestone streets, and hundreds of years old historic buildings, Harry gazed up at the skyscrapers of Manhattan with the same awe as he had on his first trip to Diagon Alley. In New York, technology replaced magic in so many ways. The billboards and signs he saw in Times Square advertising the latest movies or foods moved in a similar — and some might argue better — manner as the displays in the windows of Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon Alley showing off the latest brooms and practice Snitches. And while New York City's streets were congested with people and cars at every turn, at eleven years old, Diagon Alley felt just as crowded and loud; likely because of the narrow streets, outdoor market stands, and swarms of students gathering school supplies at the limited shops available.
Unlike the morning's superhero stories, where Tony and Rhodey were one-upping the other over their abilities, Tony didn't bring up anything about the attack on New York or the wormhole he flew the bomb into. Harry had watched the footage of the battle, the wormhole opening up over the very Tower he now lived in, and the damage that followed. He knew it had happened in his backyard, and was curious about what had been destroyed, but Tony never mentioned "that was where…" used to be, and somehow Harry knew better than to mention it.
Just Like everything else Harry was discovering about life with Tony Stark, shopping ended up being a lot more complicated than it really needed to be. To start, the whole place had been closed when they arrived and only opened after Tony made a call to say they were waiting in the Audi outside. Then, entering the department store was like going through a portal to another world. The whole multi-floor store was completely empty, with only a handful of employees left restocking the shelves, the older woman named Suzanne who reminded Harry of McGonagall with her stern face and gray bun topped high upon her head, and Suzanne's assistant Claire, a younger woman there to help make suggestions to keep Harry's new wardrobe "simple and fresh" for a soon-to-be British fifteen-year-old new to Manhattan. Tony introduced him to them as James — he figured it was after Rhodey, but the reminder of Tony finding out about James Potter made Harry's hands sweaty — and he didn't say anything else about why Harry was there or why he needed as many clothes as Tony apparently planned to buy him, and the two women assisting them never asked.
Next came the actual shopping part. In Harry's mind, they were going to grab a few pairs of jeans and trousers from the men's department, and maybe another set or two of pajamas and a bag of socks and pants, and then be on their way. But, no. Suzanne began with taking Harry's measurements, a process a lot like Madam Malkin did for his first Hogwarts robes; however, without a magical measuring tape her hands ended up in places Harry would rather they didn't. With his measurements in hand, they walked the whole store, where Tony told Harry to try on whatever he picked, and he defined "pick" as anything Harry's hand touched, even if accidentally.
In the end, it took way longer than Harry expected to pick out clothes, but once he got over the awkwardness of the situation, he had a little fun with it. For every three outfits they settled on, Tony would toss in some ridiculously absurd piece that neither of them would ever be caught dead wearing; a hideous pea green button-down shirt covered in bright yellow and orange circles or a pair of skin-tight trousers that matched Harry's skin tone so perfectly he might as well have been naked from the waist down. With each one worse than the last, they fell into fits of laughter, especially before Suzanne and Claire caught onto their jokes and were struggling to politely tell Tony Stark how horrible his suggestions were.
Things were going great until Harry tried on his last pair of trousers, which Tony added at the last minute to "make sure we got it all". He turned around on the small platform in front of the three-part mirror to give himself, Tony, and their two personal shoppers a good view of the well-fitted chinos when Suzanne lifted the new Polo shirt a little too high to check the waistband — muttering something about needing a belt — revealing a half-healed bruise; one of three Madam Pomfrey had missed during his stay in the hospital wing following the tournament. Unfortunately, didn't pull the shirt down fast enough to conceal the yellowing mark on his ribs from Tony's keen eye.
"Woah, hold it," Tony exclaimed, springing out of his chair in the corner to study the mark. Without thinking, Tony grabbed the corner of the shirt right out of Suzanne's unsuspecting grasp and pulled it higher.- His other hand floated above the bruise as if he suddenly decided at the last second not to touch it. "Uh, what happened here?"
Harry, infuriated by his newfound lack of privacy, tugged the shirt down and fled to the dressing room to change back into his clothes. He tried to sound casual as he yelled over the door, "It's nothing. You really don't need to make a big deal about it."
"Don't make a big…" Tony spoke, then asked Suzanne and Claire to give him a moment, assuring them he'd be out in a minute to finish the purchase. Once the door to the dressing area closed, Tony — sounding like he was just outside Harry's dressing room door — said, "Sure doesn't look like nothing, kid. Is that from… was it football you said you played?"
Desperate for the conversation to end as quickly as possible, Harry gave a half-hearted, "Yeah, it's from football."
"Or did you say rugby?"
Shit. Harry's stomach dropped. He had used rugby to cover up his Cruciatus tremors, hadn't he?
"Both. This one is from a football tournament at school. I won," Harry answered, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. "The rugby thing was last week in Surrey."
Halfway through putting on his shirt, Harry stopped to check out the injury. He didn't blame Madam Pomfrey. With everything going on — Cedric's death, Harry's bleeding arm from Pettigrew's knife, healing Fleur's and Krum's many injuries, the Minister issuing the Dementor's Kiss to Crouch Jr — she really had done her best, even if she didn't catch that the salve hadn't fully healed the bruise below his rib cage after fixing his ribs. Now, the faded yellow looked way worse than it actually felt, and Harry had almost forgotten about it. But when he pressed on the spot, it still made him wince.
"At school?" Tony confirmed as Harry swung open the dressing room door, holding his chinos and Polo shirt over one arm and his old shoes hooked in the fingers of his other. "A football… or I guess it's soccer here… tournament you won at school?"
Harry nodded, but he could tell Tony wasn't buying it; he saw the concern in Tony's brown eyes, which he had only seen in an adult once when Mrs. Weasley visited him in the hospital wing the night he got the bruise. However, Tony did not call him out on his lie. He simply grabbed the clothing from Harry's arms and motioned for Harry to sit on the bench and put on his shoes while he took care of everything else.
As he waited by the exit for Tony to finish up, Harry's guilt over lying to Tony grew. Having practically raised himself, no one had ever paid attention to his "adventures" — if one considered his accidental entry into a deadly tournament to resurrect an evil wizard an adventure — so it took some time for him to recognize his shame. But once he did, he considered telling Tony everything; about magic, the many times Voldemort tried to kill him, life at the Dursleys, and how he was hiding from his imminent death… because Harry had zero confidence in his ability to defeat Voldemort and survive the experience in the end.
"All set, bambino?" Tony asked, wrapping his arm around Harry's shoulders and leading him out to the waiting car. If Tony held any animosity towards Harry, he hid it well. "We don't want to be late for the best lunch in Manhattan."
"And where exactly is that?"
Tony opened the back passenger door so that Harry could get in before him. "Josephine's place, of course."
Josephine wasn't the name of the restaurant, as Harry originally assumed, but the name of the owner of a little Italian restaurant a short drive from the department store, appropriately called Little Italy. Judging by the hours posted on the door, they weren't open for lunch on weekdays, yet the door was unlocked and a small jingle from the bell above them announced their arrival. Josephine, a small woman in her seventies, greeted Tony with her arms wide open, saying something in Italian to him. Tony, much to Harry's surprise, happily walked right into her hug and answered whatever she'd said to him in flawless Italian; right down to the accent. Not sure what he was supposed to do while they talked, Harry stepped half a step to the right to position himself squarely behind Tony, out of Josephine's view.
Unfortunately, it didn't save him from whatever reunion was taking place, and if anything, it drew more attention to his presence.
"This is Harry?" Although she addressed the question to Tony, she not-so-kindly shoved him out of the way so she could see Harry. Then, without waiting for an answer, she clutched her hands to her chest and squealed, "Oh, he has Maria's eyes. Not the color, obviously, but the shape is entirely her's."
"Yeah, I thought so too." Tony's expression softened as his gaze skimmed Harry's face. Proudly, he waved Harry forward. "Harry, this is Josephine, my mother's… your grandmother's… favorite cousin and my Godmother. Her family owns Little Italy."
In all the chaos of the last few days, Harry had never considered the possibility of having an extended family through this biological father, and the obvious joy his presence brought this woman, who was virtually a stranger to him, made him ashamed for not realizing it. He'd read about Tony's parents dying in a car accident — a real one this time. With no siblings, Tony had taken over the family company at a young age and settled into a very solo bachelor lifestyle, painting the image of living a life as far from a family man as one could get. Throughout all of his research, Harry had read nothing, nor really cared much, about Howard, Maria, or their families.
"It's nice to meet you, ma'am," Harry politely said, triggering her to pull him into a hug rivaling any of Mrs. Weasley's.
Josephine jumped right into oohing and ahhing at Harry's British accent, which Tony had already warned Harry to get used hearing now that he lived in the States, identified every one of Harry's features he got from Tony's side of the family — his dark messy hair, sharp jawline, medium height and stature, everything Harry had grown up believing he'd gotten from James Potter — and finally led them to the only table that didn't have chairs stacked on top of it. The four-person table in the corner, partially hidden from the front window, had a red and white checkered faux leather tablecloth with two sets of plain white plates sat across from each other. Tony took the seat facing the front of the building, looking almost comically out of place in his pressed suit in the extremely casual atmosphere, especially when he unrolled his set of utensils to place the paper napkin across his leg. Sitting across from Tony meant Harry had to sit with his back to the front door, but at least Josephine chose the chair on Tony's side of the table so Harry didn't feel boxed in.
Josephine hung around to catch up with Tony about the family he was no longer in touch with and to ask Harry a few friendly questions to get to know him better — things like how old he was, about his mother, and what he thought about New York compared to where he grew up. Harry couldn't help but laugh at the last one. Comparing New York City to Little Whinging was like muggle London compared to Hogwarts; they're literally and figuratively worlds apart. The more Harry talked to Josephine, the more relaxed he felt and understood why Tony liked her so much. She was easy to talk to, had an infectious laugh that went along with her kind eyes, and listened to everything he said like he was the most important thing at the moment.
Even though they never placed an order, their lunch arrived — a variety of Italian dishes all smelling amazing — and Josephine gave them some space to enjoy it. But in the face of their new privacy, Harry appeared to have lost his appetite, instead just poking at his plate with his fork.
"You could have given me a heads up we'd be visiting family," Harry said, finally taking a bite of the warm roll. The fluffy buttery garlic bite melted in his mouth, unlike anything he'd ever gotten from the Dursleys or the Hogwarts' kitchen. "I would have been better prepared… better dressed."
"She doesn't mind."
"But I do," Harry argued. "The only experience I have of meeting family was my uncle's sister and let's just say that was always going to be hopeless. Maybe I wanted to make sure I made a good impression this time around."
Tony took a long sip of his sparkling water, and for a split second Harry feared he'd be dismissed.
"You're right." Harry nearly choked on his own soda, taken aback by Tony's admission and respectful tone. "I should have at least warned you that Josephine is a relative and ultimately asked your opinion on it. I mentioned I have an impulse problem, right?"
Harry chuckled. "Yeah, you might have mentioned it once or twice."
"Just keep that in mind over these next few weeks," Tony said. He took a bite of his pasta and when Harry thought that was the end, he added, "See, Josephine took Mom's death almost as hard as I did. As my Godmother, she constantly harped on me about settling down, almost as much as Dad did… though she'd never admit to agreeing with him on anything. All she wanted was to see me happy, and while I thought I was happy at the time, looking back, it was more of a… misguided happiness. Needless to say, when Pepper and I got together… God, she was ecstatic, and now getting to meet you… my son… I wanted to see her smile like that again, particularly after the rough few years she's had."
"I don't care!" Harry was all set to release his frustration over every adult making decisions for him, but he hesitated when he thought about meeting Bill and Charlie at The Burrow last summer. Almost every night, Mrs. Weasley would casually bring up the topic of any girlfriends they might have on the horizon. Mrs. Weasley never got a solid answer from either of them. Was this another family thing that felt unfamiliar to Harry since he never really had a family? "Alright," he finally said, after his anger faded away. "I understand. Just… let me know next time, ok?"
"You got it. I'll make sure you're well aware of any future visits. Prometto." Tony crossed his finger over his heart. "That means I promise in Italian."
During lunch, Harry found out that, besides Italian, Tony was also fluent in French and Spanish. He was pretty good in German and Mandarin too, and was just picking up Thai and Tagalog. Just like with the cars, he swore he'd teach Harry Italian, even if it was the last thing he did because Maria would definitely come back to haunt him if he didn't teach her grandson their language. Harry also learned about Maria and Josephine growing up together and how they stayed close even after a feud ripped Josephine's family limbs away from the Carbonell family tree — something neither girl was really involved in, more victims of the situation than anything. Therefore, Maria picking someone from her forbidden family to be Tony's Godmother was definitely a bold choice. Harry was certain his Grandmother did it out of spite for her family, a fact Harry found admirable. By the end of the history lesson, Harry felt crazy for worrying about the Sorting Hat placing him in Slytherin considering his whole family were true Gryffindors… and perhaps a touch of Hufflepuff with a bit of — mainly Tony — Ravenclaw.
"Alright, kid, I've got to ask," Tony said. Having paid their bill and said their goodbyes and thank you's to Josephine, Harry thought they were going to head out, but Tony just stayed put, resting his clasped hands on the table. "It's been on my mind, and we both know I don't do subtle any better than I resist my impulses. Hell, until last year, I had my name plastered on the side of the Tower for crying out loud. So, I'm just going to call it as I see it, and I need you to be honest with me."
No matter what angle Harry tried to spin it in his head, nothing about that statement sounded good at all and he wanted nothing more than to run out the exit, find Happy, and meet Tony back at the Tower.
"O-ok," he said, pretending he wasn't terrified by what might come out of Tony's questioning. "I'll try."
"Guess it's the best I can ask for." Tony took a deep breath, looked Harry in the eye, and said, "Your aunt and uncle aren't dead."
Surprised by the statement, not a question, Harry quickly replied, "I never said they were."
"No. No, you didn't. You get that… evasiveness… from me too." Tony's head shook with a small, almost proud grin. "Then tell me why didn't they accompany you here. Why did your professor… Lily's childhood friend, I understand that part of it… bring you instead? On that note, how the hell did he get you out of the country with no issues whatsoever? I didn't find any temporary custody papers under his name and you are definitely a minor. It's possible they hadn't processed through the system yet, but something seems off about this. Did he help you run away?"
Uncomfortable with how close Tony was to the truth on the last question, and not wanting to outright lie more than he had to, Harry opted to ignore it; it hadn't seemed like a serious one, anyway. Of course, Harry also wasn't naïve enough to believe he could distract someone like Tony Stark with smoke and mirrors. If he really wanted to sell his story, and if believed Snape and Sirius, then his life literally depended on it, he'd have to shed light on a few, very specific, shadows.
"My aunt and uncle never liked me."
To help sell this as his deep dark secret, Harry swiftly shifted his eyes up and down, feigning shame. Far from embarrassed, confessing the truth about his relatives out loud actually lifted a heavy burden off his shoulders he hadn't realized he'd been carrying for all these years. The Dursleys didn't simply "not like him", they detested him, but he didn't have to go that far to convince Tony, whose hands were now clenched in fists on the table, tightening and relaxing in time with his flaring nostrils, attempting to keep himself under control.
"Did they hurt you?"
Harry's heart rate sped up, and he felt the thumping in his neck. How could he respond honestly when hurt had such a broad definition? Yes, they had hit him. How else would he have learned to stay out of their reach or run away so quickly? And Tony might consider the work they forced him to do for hours on end as "hurting him". However, nothing they physically did to him hurt him as much as being forced to live in the cupboard under the stairs or the horrible things they called him over the years. It took seeing how Mr. and Mrs. Weasley interacted with their children for Harry to realize how wrong his childhood had been, and he had long given up wishing for a family like Ron's, making this conversation with Tony even more sensitive.
"They didn't cause those bruises," Harry said, choosing his words carefully. "I promise those came from the tournament at school."
"You see?" Tony shook a finger at him as he grimaced. "That's not what I asked. Did they ever hit you?"
"Not really." The answers seemed innocent enough until he remembered the school reports from his primary school teachers and nurse had filed. Tony had probably found them, or if not he certainly had the means to find them. "Ok, maybe a bit when I was little, but nothing recent–"
"Harry…"
"It doesn't matter anymore." Harry stared at his hands as he said, "I live here now. What difference will it make?"
"I can have them arrested for child abuse for one, make sure they'll live the foreseeable future in prison."
Harry scowled. "It won't change what happened. You'll just feel better about not being there to stop it." The words left his mouth long before his brain could stop them. "I didn't mean… I'm sorry-"
"Don't apologize for the truth, Harry," Tony interrupted, firmly. "Would I feel better if they were held accountable for their actions? Absolutely. And we can cross that bridge later. For now, I gotta know the story behind your aunt. What happened there last week?"
If he had to lie, Harry learned the best type was based on a kernel of the truth. It certainly wasn't difficult for him to picture Aunt Petunia's reaction to discovering Harry had someone else to live with, so that's where he started. "I don't know how they did it… legally and stuff… you'd have to ask one of them. I just know that when my aunt found out about you, she was more than happy to get rid of me. Make me your problem, I guess."
"My problem? God. She didn't check… or…." Tony muttered more to himself than to Harry as he scrubbed his hand down his face. "Fine. We'll… ah…" Like a flip of a switch, he pulled himself together and tilted his head towards the door. "You know what, let's get home."
Still a little anxious, Harry trailed behind Tony as they hopped into the car, which was once again perfectly timed waiting for them. It turned out they didn't need to stop by the store because Happy had already picked up the groceries Tony ordered before they left that morning. It was a good thing, too, since the traffic had grown so bad it took them forever to finally pull into the Tower garage. They took a detour to Happy's office on the fifth floor to sort out Harry's new security access and then gave it a test run in their private lift on the way home. Home. Harry had always reserved that word just for Hogwarts, but the Tower and his life with Tony were quickly catching up.
For the second time that day, they put aside their tension, and they fell into hysterical laughter over one of the ridiculous outfits Suzanne had tried to persuade Tony to buy for himself; one far wilder than anything Tony admitted to owning even in his craziest of clothing years. If Harry could hit the pause button on time, he would have frozen it right there in the lift, just as they were heading up to the penthouse, before stepping through their door and into Pepper's furious red face coming at them.
She shoved her StarkTablet into Tony's unsuspecting hands, nearly making him drop it, and sounding more exasperated than angry, asked, "Tony, what did you do?"
Trying to match Tony's cool demeanor, Harry leaned in and caught a glimpse of what made Pepper so upset. His face paled when he saw a picture of himself and Tony at the department store. Images of Snape looking more enraged than ever — even more than the time he thought Harry had stolen from him — danced across Harry's eyes. This was not good at all.
Notes:
The figurative dumpster fire that is my real-life is still burning strong. Hopefully the next chapter will be edited and posted in about two weeks. I'm going to try to hold myself to that timeframe.
Chapter 11: The Mission
Notes:
Apparently, I overestimated my ability to focus during the holidays to get this chapter out on time. Thank you to everyone who has read/favorited/commented. I read every one of them and in the chaos that has become real life (at the moment), they definitely keep me going!
When I started this fic, I really wanted to incorporate a Harry Potter plot within an Avengers plot, rather than focusing on one or the other. This chapter sets up the Avengers side of the plot and it's intentially vauge at this point of the story. The two plots will eventually overlap and become one big plot point.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Tony let his eyes drift close as he reclined on the conference room chair just enough to get comfortable while giving the impression he wasn't sleeping. Half-listening to Steve recount the mission through the holographic images projected on the table in front of them from their mission — a series of photos taken in what appeared to be a dungeon-like torture chamber — Tony wanted nothing more than to go back downstairs and climb into his bed, confident he'd finally get some half-way decent sleep after the wildly insane day he'd had.
While Pepper's panic over the photo of Tony and Harry hadn't been entirely unwarranted, it turned out not to be an issue; having already been handled expertly by Pepper and his ironclad legal team who were certainly earning their retainer checks this week. Fortunately for him — but not so much the employee who snapped the photo, a young woman working the register on a different floor than Tony reserved —, the woman chose to blackmail them rather than sell it to the highest bidding tabloid. Tony was almost embarrassed for her. Sure, they had probably paid her more than any of the tabloids for the overly grainy photo, but it cost her job and she'd been hit with at least a dozen different legal suits and non-disclosure agreements, preventing her from so much as whispering a sentence with the words Tony Stark, Harry, or son together. Tony also knew that Stark Industries' public relations team would monitor her online activity until whenever he and Harry announced the story first. Most importantly, Tony put JARVIS on high alert for any relevant postings.
The worst part of it ended up being Tony promising not to take Harry out on any more unplanned outings before they went public with the news; a decision Harry hated as much as Tony based on his grumbling about always being locked in. Tony had almost argued that, by definition, their brief shopping and lunch excursion hadn't been unplanned. He'd arranged for a private showing at the department store and Little Italy wasn't usually open for lunch during the week, so they should have been safe. However, Tony also knew when not to argue with Pepper, especially when they had the same goal of keeping Harry out of the media, and this had been one of those moments. What he would do to keep Harry occupied in the Tower when he inevitably returned to work, or else risk going crazy, Tony hadn't figured out yet. Maria Hill pulled Tony straight from Pepper's lecture to the conference room on the Avengers' common floor for the team debrief… a debrief he was excited to attend, for once, until Cap mentioned he didn't have to use his damn shield. From then on, Tony zoned out a bit on the details.
A few months after Thor returned to Asgard with Loki, an energy signature eerily similar to Loki's scepter appeared on their radar and since Fury insisted the scepter remained safely locked away in a super-secret SHIELD facility, the team had been hunting it down for the past year. Thanks to some tweaking Tony did on the original tracker for Loki's scepter, they quickly isolated the signature out in the middle of Bosnia, of all places. Tony had gone with them to the bunker, fully expecting to see the scepter not in the secured SHIELD facility, only to find the place completely empty. Whoever they were chasing was a step ahead of them.
When they found the second bunker empty, Maria Hill refocused the operations to reconnaissance only with Steve, Nat, and Clint taking the lead and pulling in Tony and Bruce only if combat support was required, which had yet to happen. So today, it took all of Rogers' four opening words, "we missed them again", for Tony to effectively tune out the meeting, not really interested in hearing about their failed five-day-long wild goose chase through Morocco.
"Stark!"
The sensation of plummeting backward towards the ground as the back of his chair fell before straightening itself a split second later startled Tony awake.
"Dammit, Nat! I wasn't asleep!" Swiveling his chair around, he turned to face Natasha. Ever the perfect agent, she didn't flinch at his motion, only raised a single eyebrow as a challenge, which he would have gladly accepted on any other day. A day when he didn't have his kid show up on his doorstep with a bizarre, gaping hole in his history and who had lived with an abusive aunt and uncle for the past thirteen years.
With a smirk, she replied, "Just checking."
She didn't see his scowl as he redirected his attention to the images hovering above the table, skillfully using his hands to manipulate them virtually so he could examine every detail of the dungeon. Two rusted cages, for lack of a better word, sat in opposite corners of the room and a table similar to the one Harry sat on yesterday for the paternity test was directly in the center. Except where Tony's medical bay was state-of-the-art, this table resembled something from the medieval era, and none of Tony's tables had thick leather straps to hold patients down. A collection of tools lay strewn about the base of the table, suggesting that the last person to use them had left in a hurry, likely after detecting the team's arrival. It reminded Tony too much of Afghanistan, a place he actively avoided thinking about at all costs.
Spotting a computer monitor in the background, Tony tapped to zoom in on it, circling the obvious surveillance image from around the compound. "So they have high-tech surveillance around the area, sensitive enough to detect the spies-" he gestured to Clint and Natasha, "-but whatever they did to the person in that chair was done using middle-ages era practices. Why?"
Steve cleared his throat. "We noticed that discrepancy too."
Tony chose not to mention how noticing it didn't answer his question. "And this… cave—bunker… is, by far, the worst conditions we've seen from these guys yet. Dirt floors… rusted cages… None of these matches the MO of the other places we've raided. It's almost like a completely different group. Or maybe they have a different purpose now. You're sure you saw no one lurking around?"
Steve shook his head. "No. By the time we breached the perimeter, they were gone. Is it possible the tables have turned?"
"Go on," Tony prompted, not entirely following his train of thought, but willing to hear him out.
"We've been assuming the enhanced individuals were the ones locked up, that they've been on the receiving end of all the experimentation," Steve said, and Tony pulled up the photos from their first mission in the Bosnian bunker. The advanced security surrounding two particular cells tipped them off they might be dealing with some sort of enhanced individuals. Side-by-side, the significant difference between the two contraptions was glaringly obvious. "But what if they aren't the victims anymore?"
"The captives become the captors," Tony clarified. "Bad guy enhances person, newly enhanced person grows strong enough to escape, and rather than using this newfound power to leave their prison in the rearview mirror, he or she takes revenge on the bad guy. It's not a totally novel idea."
"But then why pick up and leave when we got there?" Hill questioned.
Tony scoffed, clicking away on his phone as he answered her rhetorical question, "Uh, not wanting to get caught tends to be a pretty compelling reason to flee."
"Sure, for the enhanced. I doubt they'd want to go from one prison to another," Hill argued. "But why not leave their captors for us to take them in?"
"I didn't say I disagreed with you, it just becomes a moot point if you had bothered to check the area nearby," Tony stated, and with a swipe of his hand over his phone, he projected a video feed from the village near the cave showing three men shoving two teenagers into an unmarked van, the same girl and boy — Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, two orphaned Sokovians if Tony's research was correct — whose rescue had been added as a mission objective when they were seen being removed from the cave on the footage from their second mission. Their exact purpose was still unknown, but the odds of them not being enhanced decreased with each mission. "As you can see, they-" he pointed to the kids, "-do not appear to be in control. And if I'm right, and I usually am, the guys manhandling them are not the same people we've been after for half a year. JARVIS?"
"Scanning for facial recognition," the AI announced. Less than ten seconds later, three red boxes appeared over the video feed filled with the equally grainy faces of the first group they chased. JARVIS confirmed Tony's suspicion a second later, "The three individuals seen in Morocco do not match any of the others you've seen to date."
"There you go." Tony clasped his hands together."It looks different because they are different. Now, what happened to our original baddies? I guess that's on the spies to figure out. And while I don't want to step on anyone's toes here, I would also suggest you find out who was watching you guys tear the place apart."
With a swipe, Tony returned to the first batch of still photographs and zoomed in on a window on the room's left side. It took a second for the image to render, but as soon as it did Tony could feel Steve's tension from across the table. Although it was too dark identify any distinguishing traits — at least without getting JARVIS involved — the fact that this individual watched the team undetected was an obvious oversight.
"Did you even bother checking for any heat signatures?" Tony asked, taking a bit too much pleasure in getting to harass Steve Rogers in his leadership role. "I would have expected better from you. I literally sent you off with the best of the best recon equipment and JARVIS is a simple word away."
"Of course we did," Steve snapped. "JARVIS confirmed the base was clear."
"Then someone returned while you were distracted. And if I were you, I'd spend some time looking into why." Tony spun his chair around. His job here was done. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm needed elsewhere."
The sounds of footsteps following Tony out of the room didn't come as a surprise, and he slowed his pace to let his best friend catch up. Tony scanned his fingerprint into the pad at the elevator and entered the code giving him access to his private floors. Coming from the Avengers' area, he didn't need to use the private elevator, except it would put him on the other side of the hallway, but since he planned to stop by his workshop first, he could enter through the backdoor.
"Why do you do that to them?" Rhodey asked, stepping up next to Tony to wait for the elevator.
"Do what? Challenge them? Force them to think a little sharper?" He retorted and finally faced Rhodey with his arms across his chest. "If you ask me… which by the way you did… missing details like someone watching them work the fucking crime scene leaves us all vulnerable."
When the elevator arrived, Tony hit the button for his lab, the seventy-ninth floor, and then the lobby for Rhodey; making it clear Tony wasn't up for company tonight.
"It leaves you vulnerable? What kind of bullshit excuse is that?" Rhodey exclaimed. He rolled his eyes before hitting the button for the eightieth floor, literally sending Tony home. "You have a huge ass 'A' illuminated on the front of the building acting as a beacon and announcing 'you are here'. Seriously, Tony."
Tony knew Rhodey was trying to rile him up, but it didn't stop him from slamming his palm onto the STOP button. The elevator immediately lurched to a stop and Tony tapped in his override code to end the alarm and blinking red light.
"JARVIS, start a file on our mystery man. Enhance the shadow and find me anything and everything you can on him," Tony instructed. "I want identities on matches as low as thirty percent."
"Sir, I'm sure you know that using a percentage that low on a top dark image will give you almost useless results," JARVIS dutifully responded.
Yes, Tony knew that. He also knew he had a lot of spare time coming up to sort through the people. Still, seeing the benefit of having some sort of organization, he added, "Prioritize the list based on known HYDRA associates and then work your way down to anyone with over two arrests."
"Beginning the search now, sir," JARVIS obediently replied. "Shall I place it on your private server too?"
"You shouldn't have to ask, Jay."
"How silly of me," JARVIS said. "You're usually such a team player, it must have slipped my mind."
"I have no one to blame, but myself for his sarcasm," Tony muttered. Ignoring everything Rhodey had said about him and his huge ass Tower, he asked, "Do you have something for me or not? Because it's been an incredibly long day."
"Is that why you want to go to your lab instead of going home to your family?"
"That does have a nice ring to it," Tony said. "A bit scary, I'll admit."
It was as close to the truth as he would say out loud. They both knew Tony sought distractions from the things he didn't want to think about, and this new subject was just the thing he needed.
With a heavy sigh, Rhodey acknowledged his defeat. "I hit the same roadblocks as you did." Tony glared at him as if to say 'I told you so'. "I uncovered documentation from November 1999, when his aunt took guardianship of him. The name Harry Evan is not mentioned anywhere on it, so it seems she thought his name was Harry Potter, and the birth certificate created for him the day before confirmed her assumption. No one had any reason to doubt it, plus at fifteen months old, Harry couldn't exactly correct her on it."
It was something, at least. So his kid came out of nowhere and then disappeared at age eleven.
"How about giving up guardianship?" He asked, hoping Rhodey had a better answer than JARVIS had found.
Unfortunately, Rhodey shook his head. "The paper trail is accurate, in that they legally revoked their guardianship. It means your taking custody is legitimate. It's a light trail… meaning there was absolutely nothing leading up to it. No additional abuse reports, no inspections, no aid requests, no court orders. Just one day they had him and the next they didn't. No sign of lawyers, law enforcement, nothing."
"That sounds a lot like a legal way to run away," he said, tapping the screen on the elevator to restart it. No need to stay in the cramped space when nothing else would come from their conversation.
"Maybe," Rhodey agreed. "But again, most fourteen-year-olds would just run away and hope no one reports him missing. They don't usually think about the legal guardianship side of the equation."
"I would have at that age," Tony said. "And he has half of my genes."
The elevator chimed as it reached the eightieth floor, revealing a simple white hallway on the guest side of his floor, opposite his home. Just as Tony was about to close the door to continue down to his workshop, Rhodey shoved him out, stepping out right behind him. Reluctantly deciding to go home, he made a sharp turn to navigate through the guest quarters — a space rarely used since Tony had an official party floor upstairs and a much calmer lifestyle.
Trailing half a step behind Tony, Rhody finally broke the silence less than a minute into their awkward walk, "I expected you to tell the team about him. Don't forget, they live here too. Unless you plan on keeping Harry in the penthouse, they may cross paths. It would also be a friendly gesture of trust toward them. Like it or not, they're part of your family now."
"Yeah, well, my business is my business," Tony said with a huff. "Plus, I learned the hard way that Harry doesn't like surprises. Ironic for a kid who showed up at my doorstep."
Rhodey caught up so they walked side-by-side. "Listen, I'm no expert, but I imagine years of abuse would make surprises not so enjoyable. Particularly surprises involving other people."
Rhodey certainly had a valid point, one which Tony had also considered and dismissed because they were only seeing Josephine. While he had mentioned the other residents in the Tower to Harry over dinner yesterday, they had yet to discuss when, and how, to introduce them. Harry had already met Bruce, leaving Steve, Clint — at least part-time, where he spent the rest of his days Tony didn't care — and Natasha. The three most intimidating people in the building for a small stature kid; not counting Hulk since an appearance from the Hulk meant there were more important things happening in the Tower.
They arrived at Tony's door, and Tony, making it crystal clear that he wasn't inviting Rhodey inside, leaned against the wall beside the keypad and waited. Fortunately, Rhodey wasn't prepared to wait as long as Tony.
"I don't have to help you out, y'know?" Rhodey said. "I could just let you lock yourself away for who knows what number night in a row–"
"Only the second. We had date night this week," Tony interjected, pretending he hadn't been down in his shop the three nights prior to his and Pepper's date. This distraction, though, felt different; more necessary. He wasn't tweaking his suit — going against Pepper's direct request for him to end Iron Man entirely — and he wasn't outfitting out his team with the latest and greatest tech gadgets. He wasn't even focusing on any of the dozen SI departments waiting for his approval on the backlog of blueprints stacked high on his office desk. If someone was following the team, it wouldn't be a far jump to think any of them could be in danger… and if the team was in danger, then so were Pepper and Harry.
"I'll handle it," Tony eventually conceded; a remark with more than one meaning. He'd handle Harry's sketchy past, he'd handle the team, and he'd handle whatever threat he felt deep in his soul was imminent. Unwilling to get into it anymore, Tony unlocked the door, slipped in through a crack just wide enough for himself, and yelled "G'night, Honey Bear," over his shoulder before he physically locked the door behind him.
The overwhelming stillness of the house immediately set Tony on edge, and he could almost feel Harry's extra presence in his home; as if there was a disturbance in the familiar aura of the place. As much as he hated to admit it, Rhodey had been spot on about Tony avoiding the reality of being a father, or, more specifically, his failing to be one. It didn't matter if his kid's expectations of a parent were lower than Tony's thanks to his likely horrendous childhood and potential indoctrination into some kind of cult. How could Tony teach his son to be a capable, functioning adult when Tony hardly qualified as one himself? Where was he supposed to get this parenting wisdom? Not his old man, obviously. And where physics, engineering, and mechanics came easily to Tony, being someone's father… someone this teenager might come to depend on… well that was completely out of his league.
Walking slowly into the living room, the lights automatically brightened from the modest setting Pepper used whenever Tony worked late, all but confirming he'd missed the rest of their night. Pepper and Harry most likely had dinner together — one of the many Tony expected to miss because of an upcoming deadline, a team meeting, or simply Tony's brain stuck on his latest muse — and then went their separate ways. He stopped briefly at the kitchen, debating whether to grab himself some food, but his stomach was in knots so he continued on, allowing his feet to take him almost autonomously to his workstation in the living room.
"JARVIS," he quietly requested, "fire up the home computer and load everything you've found so far on the mystery man."
The transparent screens in front of him came to life, displaying the Tower and Central Park footage from the night the Professor showed up; the last project he had worked on at that station. "Get rid of it," he muttered and swiped his hand across the screen to send it to the trash. When nothing else appeared, he looked up at the ceiling and asked, "JARVIS? My files?"
Instantly, a single folder with the date as a title popped up on the screen. Nothing else opened; no videos, no photographs, no government or SHIELD reports. "Jay?"
"Sir," the AI computer said, "while Miss Potts has already gone off to bed, her vitals suggest growing anxiety, likely related to you and the situation. Might I suggest holding off on your research tonight?"
He ran his hand down his face. How bad of a situation did he have to be in for JARVIS to warn him off work, particularly without the typical sarcastic tone Tony was used to hearing during his lectures. While JARVIS would ultimately obey him since Tony had written his code to do so, JARVIS had also evolved into almost a guardian to Tony; more so than almost anyone except Pepper.
Decision made, Tony waved his hand over the screen. "Shut it down," he demanded, and the screen reacted faster to that command than it did to load the information; expressing JARVIS' approval of Tony's choice.
Once again, Tony let his feet lead the way, this time past his bedroom door and down the hallway to Harry's room. Light spilled out under the closed door, so Tony delicately tapped his knuckles on it to respect his kid's privacy. The door did not open, and Tony heard no rustling on the other side or running water, implying Harry might be in the shower. Without thinking twice, he twisted the knob, supposed to find Harry had left it unlocked; Tony had always locked his door growing up.
The small table lamp on the nightstand was on, and with the large picture windows uncovered the room felt quite warm and inviting. Tony hadn't seen the room since they transformed it from a gray guest room into a teenage boy's room, so he took a moment to appreciate the work Pepper had done. She nailed it, as she always did, from the light blue paint to the less lavish, but definitely more welcoming, linens and furniture. It could have easily been a bedroom found in any suburban home, not a multi-million dollar superhero tower in the largest metropolis in the United States.
He discovered Harry passed out on his bed, dressed in one of the new pairs of short-sleeved red pajamas they purchased that afternoon, with an open notebook and blue pen beside him. He looked so completely at peace while asleep that Tony wondered how he had missed the teen's constant cautious and guarded signs throughout the last two days. Even last night, when they were supposedly relaxed at dinner, laughing as they ate their way through an enormous amount of pizza, he didn't look as calm as he did sleeping there. They'd have to work on that — Tony would have to work on that; on helping his son adjust to his new life.
Tony moved to leave, unsure why he had come in at all, until he realized Harry's glasses were sitting crooked on his face. In a move more paternal than he thought he was ready to think about, Tony bent down to gently remove them. Harry moved when the tips got stuck momentarily behind his ears, and Tony held his breath hoping he hadn't woken Harry up by the slight tugging action. Thankfully, Harry settled back down, but Tony's breath hitched when he saw several scars on Harry's now exposed right arm. The one closest to this wrist looked like a large, circular puncture wound; by what, Tony couldn't fathom based on its wide diameter. It looked to be a few years old, which was better than the long, thin scar near his elbow. Though mostly healed, the fresh skin led Tony to believe it was at most a few months old. Its depth and likely source, however, troubled him; he had seen plenty of knife wounds over the years to recognize one, and as far as he knew, knives weren't used in soccer or rugby. These injuries shot to the top of his list of concerns about his new son.
As if sensing Tony's close proximity, Harry rolled away from him, removing his arm from view but now putting his notebook fully on display. Tony was about to walk away, thoughts of privacy racing through his mind — all said in Pepper's lecturing voice — when the writing on the top page caught his attention. There were three columns connected by a horizontal line: the first contained a list of words — Accio, Lumos, Stupefy, Focillo, Scourgify — none of which meant anything to Tony other than sharing a possible Latin root; he guessed the second column was small description for each — summoning, light, blasting, warming, cleaning —; and the last one was mostly blank, with only computer written beside the Lumos and Stupefy rows. The bottom half of the page was packed with swirls and what looked like the beginning sketch of a handle, and Tony did not know what any of it signified.
It took every ounce of his willpower to resist the urge to snap a picture of the strange list, adding it to the growing mysteries surrounding Harry. Instead, he left it untouched, in fear Harry would notice. Despite not being against the idea of recreating it from memory later, he prided himself on not crossing that privacy line. Pepper would remind him how progress was still progress, no matter how insignificant it seemed.
For the third time, Tony's feet took over. This time he meandered — as much as Tony Stark could meander — into his bedroom; right where he should have gone in the first place, straight from the Avengers' meeting.
Sitting against the headboard with a book resting on her bent knees, Pepper flipped the page and continued to read as she acknowledged him, "Earlier than I expected."
"Yeah… well…" Tony stood at the edge of the bed, his hand rubbing along the back of his neck, reluctant to reveal that it had been his last choice. He needed to, however, as part of his commitment to her. "I had a little help from Rhodey and JARVIS."
Close enough.
To make up for the implication of his words, Tony skipped changing out of his jeans and long-sleeved shirt and into something resembling pajamas. He just plopped down next to her, which got him a familiar, yet teasing, grumble as her book swayed from his exaggerated move. He could change later. Right now, he needed Pepper more than ever. Understanding his hint, she set her book down on the nightstand behind her. Then, turning onto her side, she draped her arm across his chest. The last time they had been this close was the night of The Professor, and that night he had felt just as uncertain about himself.
"Want to tell me what's going on?" She asked. She ran her hand down his cheek, tickling him on its path down, before placing a light kiss on it. "I can see the wheels turning and I want to help, Tony… we all do… but you have to let us."
"I think Harry's into LARP-ing," he blurted out and as any normal person would under the circumstances he felt Pepper startle at the abruptness of his statement.
"And you think this because…"
Tony turned in the bed to face her, taking comfort in the familiarity of her kind, and very attractive features. "He had this notebook out with a bunch of… words for… I don't know what they were for. They were in Latin, maybe. It looks like magic shit. A-and I don't know what to do with that."
Pepper's eyes squinted, and Tony knew where this was heading before she said, "So you were snooping?"
"I wasn't!" He half-lied. Just because the notebook might not have been out in public, and Harry not awake to consent to Tony seeing, didn't mean he snooped. "I was going to check in on him… you know, the fatherly thing, right? And he was asleep. I caught a glimpse of the notebook next to him when I took his glasses off so he wouldn't wake up with a headache. I was doing a good thing… thinking of others… you should be proud, really."
Pepper gave one of her condescending nods, large and slow. "So, naturally, you had to read the notebook. I'm pretty sure that's still called snooping."
"It's not like I took a picture," he stated, in a failed attempt to make the situation look better for him. Suddenly, he remembered the other, more important, oddity of his brief visit with Harry. "He's got scars too, Pep. Two on his right arm and I can't imagine what could have naturally caused them. The kid is becoming a collection of bruises and scars. You saw the one on his forehead right?"
More alert on this topic, Pepper sadly said, "Yeah, I did."
"He told me he got it in the car crash his parents didn't die in… which is an entirely separate problem… but it's too clean-cut to be an accident and I'm having a hard time finding a probable cause that isn't someone carving it into his head." Frustrated at having more questions than answers, Tony ran his hand through his hair, frowning when he realized his last decent shower had been before date night. "Christ, Pep, what have I gotten myself into?"
"That's one way of looking at it–"
"And Rhodey's search came up empty-handed too," he continued, on too much of a roll to stop spewing out his anxieties to the one person who always fixed his life, even if it was no longer her role anymore. "He found how Harry's aunt legally abandoned him… because what else could that be called… but why? And without a single social worker visit? Who approved the damn Vampire to take him?"
Pepper's hand brushed along his upper arm, reeling him in and back to her. "Have you considered asking him about it?"
"Who's side are you on here?"
"Yours, of course." She gave his arm a little squeeze. "I just think you'll find he's willing to talk about more than you think."
Tony's head snapped towards Pepper. "Did he say something to you? It's drugs, isn't it? Because, you know, as his… father… I should know about it."
Pepper laughed at his reaction, and he couldn't blame her. He sounded as crazy and out of control as he felt inside. Tony liked...no he needed… to be in control of everything. It was one reason he — not even a full-fledged member, merely a consultant — insisted on turning Stark Tower into Avengers Tower. Having them here, he could monitor their actions better than if they were on whatever shitty base SHIELD planned.
Pepper shared with him all the details of the evening she spent with Harry and Tony listened attentively to every word his son had offered Pepper during their short time together. Unfortunately, Tony already knew much of the information. Still, he metaphorically tucked the names of Harry's best friends — Ron, the youngest of six brothers, and Hermione, the daughter of two dentists — into his memory for later. Similar to Severus, Hermione had to be unique enough to locate in a database, and in the coming days, he could try to get the last name of Ron. After Tony took a quick shower and got ready for bed, they finally discussed what it would mean to add a teenager into their already hectic lives. Pepper said all the right things, assuring him she would neither interfere with his relationship with Harry nor abandon him during what was bound to be an awkward transition period. She simply asked Tony not to isolate himself in his lab or garage; that he make an effort to get to know Harry. To anyone other than Tony Stark, it would have sounded like a reasonable request, and while Tony agreed, he also knew a mystery like the one he was entangled in was difficult to let go of.
"What am I going to do with him locked up here?" Tony murmured quietly, more to himself than to Pepper, as they were slipping off to sleep.
Still, she answered with a mutter, "I'm sure you think of something, so long as it's not destructive and doesn't draw attention to him."
Tony gazed down at her half-sleeping form and chuckled. "So no making a suit for Harry? What would that make him? Iron Boy?"
"No."
"Harry doesn't seem like the superhero type," he admitted. "Maybe we should get a dog?"
"Because more responsibility is exactly what you need." Her tone was filled with the sarcasm Tony loved about her.
"What about a cat? They pretty much take care of themselves, don't they?"
"No pets, Tony."
As they drifted off to sleep, Pepper's head resting gently on his chest, just shy of his arc reactor, he contemplated the days ahead. He needed to introduce Harry to the team, he had two deadlines fast approaching that threatened to fill up most of his day, and he needed to get with Steve and Clint to test their upgraded armor; all while attempting to bond with his new son with no idea of how to actually be a father. And as much as Tony wanted to believe he could push past his discomfort about the whole situation and step up for the teen the way he'd once hoped his father would have, it also didn't surprise him when he ended up retreating to his lab, effectively isolating himself for the entire week.
Notes:
This is the last chapter of what I've called the first arc. The next chapter will start to see Harry settling into the tower and introducing the Avengers to the mix. Unfortunately, the next chapter won't be posted until after the New Year. This gives me plenty of time to write chapter 22 and edit 12.
Chapter 12: Meet the Team
Notes:
Please let me know if there are any formatting issues with this chapter. For some reason this one had issues uploading. I think I manually fixed the errors I saw.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Without a doubt, if someone were to ask Harry to summarize his first week at the Tower in a single word, he would say “boring”, at least mostly.
The relaxed rhythm of the weekend, with Tony or Pepper taking obvious shifts to stay by Harry, ended on Monday morning when they both left for work, leaving Harry all alone. Having spent most of his childhood alone, it surprised Harry how quickly he missed their company. He spent the weekend racing from one activity to another, passing the time faster than Harry had ever experienced; because Tony's mind truly did work at tens of miles per minute. In contrast to Tony’s organized chaos, Pepper had a collected calm air around her, putting Harry at ease when they sat side by side watching a movie, worked on a puzzle, or read — technically Pepper read and Harry secretly strategized new quidditch plays — every night waiting for Tony to finish in his workshop.
Without set chores for him to work on, and being confined to their private floor, the daytime hours Harry spent alone dragged on. The first two workdays, he used to catch up on watching movies from a fantastic list Tony set up for him through JARVIS, writing letters to his friends he'd never get to mail, learning to play billiards on the pool table he discovered while exploring the other side of their floor — an entire guest wing the size of the penthouse that JARVIS told him Tony rarely used anymore —, and working on the list he began the other day comparing his magic to Tony's technology. One day, he hoped to talk to Hermione about his ideas on the subject, but without knowing how long his hiding would last he figured writing out his mixed-up thoughts and observations was as good of a place as any to start. Plus, it was probably what Hermione would recommend he do, anyway.
On his third day, Harry moved into the kitchen, deciding it'd be a courteous gesture to make dinner. Tony and Pepper never asked or expected Harry to cook for them — and Harry wasn't about to tell them about his cooking history —, but cooking had been one of his favorite chores at the Dursleys so he didn't mind doing it. After asking JARVIS and Happy for help with a grocery delivery order, and navigating the steep learning curve of Tony's smart appliances, Harry enjoyed the afternoon preparing a traditional Shepherd's Pie with a fresh salad, rolls, and chocolate chip cookies for dessert. Without his aunt breathing down his neck, cooking passed the time quickly, and before he knew it Tony and Pepper arrived home just as Harry was finishing up. Harry wasn't used to having a relative proud of him, so the immense pride on Tony's face when he saw the meal Harry made sent a rush of happiness through Harry's body, unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Undoubtedly enough to fuel a full-fledged Patronus in a second.
Over dinner that night, Tony finally brought up the topic of their Tower-mates, as Tony liked to call them. He recommended their dedicated monthly “team night” on Friday for Harry to officially meet the team; an event started by Steve to help the team bond in their new Avenger roles. Aside from their excellent company, Tony pitched the gathering as an excuse to order too much food and play video games or other “activities” — all of which Tony assured Pepper would be teen-friendly this week, mainly no gambling. Harry readily agreed, not hearing what Friday night would entail because he was too preoccupied with Tony not only remembering what Harry said about wanting to make a good impression when meeting people but also taking his concern seriously by asking Harry's opinion on it first.
Naturally, Harry spent Thursday researching each member of the Avengers and watching all the news footage JARVIS had on them.
Bruce, who Harry had not realized was a member of the team during the paternity test, reminded Harry of Remus in more ways than one; a gentle and rather soft-spoken human form to balance his destructively wild inhuman one. Unlike Remus, though, Bruce couldn’t predict his transformations by checking the calendar. The thought of the Hulk sleeping a few floors above him made Harry seriously consider sleeping with his wand under his pillow at the idea. But, Tony seemed unconcerned about the man and always spoke fondly of the other scientist, so Harry decided not to worry about it either… Even if, after watching him tear apart the side of a skyscraper, Harry knew the Hulk could tear through their door like it was tissue paper.
Captain America's story grabbed Harry's interest the most, probably because waking up decades into the future reminded Harry of first entering the Wizarding World. He literally woke up to a whole different world than what he was used to living in. Although Captain Rogers’ fighting style was nowhere near as explosive as Iron Man, as skillful as Black Widow or Hawkeye — the two spies Harry noted to keep a close eye on —, or as destructive as Hulk, Harry spent a lot of time debating if he'd win in a fight against a witch like McGonagall or wizard like Snape. If the Vibranium in his shield wasn't resistant to magic — something Harry figured he should research sooner rather than later — he could easily see McGonagall transfiguring the shield into a feather and then incinerating it. Then Snape would probably stalk in and use some obscure dark curse and Captain America would be done.
The Avenger who posed the greatest risk to Harry was Thor, and it had nothing to do with his magic hammer. What Harry saw Loki do in the Battle of New York too closely resembled the magic Harry knew, and the fewer ties to magic around him, the better off he'd be. To anyone else, he was just another no-maj. Loki, on the other hand, might be able to sense his magic and therefore it wasn't too much of a stretch to assume Thor could too. According to Tony, despite sharing a floor with Steve, the God of Thunder technically didn't live in the tower and rarely attended their team nights. With Harry's luck, however, this would be the week Tony was wrong about Thor skipping out. Just in case, Harry tried to brainstorm at least one contingency plan. Unfortunately, every idea ended with Snape skinning him alive for calling him on his magic mirror, something Harry planned to avoid at all costs.
Heading into Friday, Harry wanted to be excited because life in the Tower as Harry Evans should have been perfectly fine. Except, Harry's nights hadn't been nearly as uneventful as his days.
Harry's nightmares not only returned but worsened the more he settled into his new life with Tony and Pepper, threatening to ruin it all. Early in the week, the dreams were snippets of the Graveyard — a flash of green and Cedric's empty eyes, the sound of Voldemort's vicious curses, or the returning tremble waking him up — yet as the week progressed, then they became longer and more detailed, leading up his worst one Thursday night when Harry dreamed he wasn't able to escape the graveyard and was used in whatever ritual Snape said the evil wizard was planning for him. It didn't matter that Harry knew nothing specific about what the ritual entailed, his mind was more than happy to fill in the blanks with things like removing various body parts from Harry while strapped to the tombstone, still very much alive. Every time he awoke in a cold sweat JARVIS asked if he needed help. The first two nights it took Harry a solid minute to remember where the disembodied voice came from, and why he was asking. By the third night, he preventively told JARVIS to assume he never needed help from a nightmare. JARVIS had hesitated — could an AI sound conflicted? — but eventually agreed.
One night Harry had actually debated telling Pepper about his nightmares when they were working on a puzzle of the Seine River. Tony had gone down to his private lab for the night and in casual conversation, Pepper had asked him how he was sleeping at the Tower. Not thinking, Harry almost answered honestly but changed his mind at the last second. Instead, he told her how his bed was the most comfortable he'd ever had; not a total lie, since it felt as close to sleeping on a cloud as Harry could imagine getting.
After the close call of telling his new father's girlfriend that he had nightmares as a teenager, Harry tried to control them. Just like he did at the Dursleys when he returned there after school, he slept in shorter spurts throughout the night and stayed awake if he had multiple nightmares. The downfall was that it left him exhausted to his core, making the idea of spending Friday night meeting the Avengers feel more like a job he wanted to avoid than the fun game night he had been looking forward to. And that was only the mental side of the nightmares. Physically, despite using Snape’s potion consistently, his tremors worsened too, forcing him to get creative in hiding the issue from his new guardians. The combination made the end of his week significantly more stressful than the beginning and left him irritable and tense coming into Friday evening.
“Harry?”
A warm hand touched Harry's arm, startling the teen almost right out of the living room chair. He'd been looking out the window as he listened — or thought he was listening — to Tony contemplating a change of plans for Harry's introduction to “the team” for the fifth time in three days. Originally, Tony wanted to sit them down to explain the situation first, and then have Pepper escort Harry upstairs afterwards. That changed to Harry just showing up with Tony and pretending as if Harry had always been there, leaving the others to guess what was going on. Thankfully, Pepper reminded Tony how having a surprise person in a group of superheroes and assassins wasn't necessarily the smartest idea so Harry didn't have rain on whatever parade Tony had worked up in his head by telling him he didn't fancy being introduced as a “surprise”. The last Harry heard of the plan, they settled on Tony telling the team while Harry hung out near the lifts waiting on Tony's signal to enter. That one was decided on during breakfast that morning but apparently Tony wanted to make yet another change to the agenda; one Harry didn't hear because of his utter exhaustion.
“Whoa, Bambino!” Tony exclaimed. After helping Harry back into the chair, he remained standing close, almost alarmingly too close, to Harry's side. Desperate for some space, Harry pulled away to sit on the other side of the small chair. It wasn't much, but it'd have to do. “Are you sure you're alright? We can totally skip out on team night if you're too knackered. It'd be the perfect Stark move to do.”
“Knackered?” Harry asked with a grimace. Although the word accurately described him, hearing it in Tony's full-fledged American accent sounded too weird.
“It means tired.”
“Yeah, I know what it means,” the teen snapped. In a slightly softer tone, aiming for sassy-sarcasm, he added, “What I don't know is why you used it.”
If Tony had a problem with Harry's latest attitude, he hid it well, standing a little taller and squaring his shoulders, almost in a sense of pride. “I’m trying to help you feel more acclimated… at home… in your new casa. Wait until you see the spread of fish and chips tonight.” Unable to resist, Harry smirked as he rolled his eyes. “And it's clearly working if you're joking around with me like that rather than all the walking on eggshells crap you've been doing all week.”
Harry frowned. “I have not been walking on eggshells–”
“Whatever you say, kid,” Tony retorted in a very toddler-like fashion. “Because teenage boys do every little thing they're told as soon as they’re asked.”
“Or,” Harry said, emphasizing the word, “maybe I'm just too knackered to care anymore.”
“I see what you did there.” Tony’s hand fell awkwardly on Harry's shoulder, as if he intended to reach up to mess with Harry's unmanageable hair but changed his mind at the last second. He gave it a small, awkward squeeze. “Now, about tonight…”
It took Harry making three more requests and insulting the man by calling him a helicopter parent before he persuaded Tony that he had no problems meeting the team that night. In fact, he looked forward to it for no other reason than to use their common areas next week to help pass the boring time. While the private floor had plenty of areas for Harry to roam, it still felt a lot like being locked up at Privet Drive… a very, very large version of Privet Drive, but locked up nonetheless. Harry hated feeling trapped more than anything. It made him antsy and gave him the urge to leave immediately; counterproductive to what Sirius and Snape spent a lot of energy on. However, once the rest of the Tower knew about Harry's existence, Tony promised Harry he could wander into the non-residential floors above them, including the theater, gym, and indoor pool. Harry fully intended to use them.
In the end, they went with the same plan they previously agreed on: Harry waiting for Tony to give him a signal after Tony explained the situation about Harry to his tower-mates. What none of them expected was Natasha being late. So as Harry paced the area in front of the lift, listening to Tony on the other side of the door drone on about her tardiness, refusing to tell them his “big news” without her, and eventually threatening to put her new weapon projects at the bottom of his to-do list, the spy managed successfully sneaked up behind Harry.
“You're Tony's big news, huh?”
Harry froze at the sound of her crisp voice behind him, the worst position to be caught in. Knowing exactly who to expect standing there when he turned around didn't help to stop the hair on Harry's neck from standing up at the sight of the Black Widow scrutinizing him suspiciously, her finely sculpted single eyebrow arched, waiting for his answer.
“I don't know what you're talking about,” Harry replied in the same false confident tone he often used when confronting Snape.
“Ah, you’re British too. Well, that certainly explains Tony's choice of food tonight.” Her eyes scanned him head to toe and jutted her chin at the door behind. “Do you really think you'd be standing here if you weren't supposed to be here? C’mon kid it doesn't take a spy to put two and two together.”
“Erm…”
Before Harry could ask what she meant by that, her arm tightened around his shoulders. “Let's go have some fun, shall we?”
Once again, she didn't let Harry respond, she simply dragged him into the Avengers' version of a common room; his protest stuck in his throat.
The room was one huge open space, around the size of Tony's place if they removed all the bedroom walls, yet somehow had a more inviting feeling to it. Posters of bands and movies Harry didn’t recognize covered its neutral cream walls, and plush rugs with wild, unmatching geometric patterns offset the dark hardwood floors running the length of the room. At first glance, Harry could make out three distinct areas of the room: the main lounge section in the middle, a gaming area to the left, and a television spot to the right.
The same floor-to-ceiling windows Harry had seen on every exterior wall in the Tower gave a great backdrop to the room. It even had a set of doors leading onto a large balcony area, surely giving the better view Pepper promised him the other day. Five long tables sat near the wall beside the door, each filled with an absurd amount of food and bottles of soda. It reminded Harry of the Great Hall if it had a buffet instead of the family-style tables. While there were no official tables and chairs to sit and dine at, several sofas, loungers, and recliners were scattered about the center of the room, with side tables nearby to create a casual eating area. A blue felted pool table, more worn-in than the one Harry used in Tony's guest suite, was in the gaming area along with a ping-pong table directly behind it. A few paddles and balls balanced in the center, as if someone had recently played. Opposite the ping-pong table, a large flat-screen television covered most of the wall. With no apparent cables or hardware, if Harry didn't know better he would have assumed a strong sticking charm held it in place. Finally, rounding out the room was the gaming area with a large sectional couch in front of the television and a coffee table in the center covered with a box of video games and four controllers.
The door closed softly behind them but any hope Harry had of a quiet entrance disappeared by Natasha exclaiming, “Hey Tony! I found your kid wandering in the hallway. What kind of father leaves a teenage boy to roam a place with easy access to weapons?”
The air in the room stilled for a few seconds as the group processed what Natasha said, everyone glancing back and forth between Tony and Harry. As soon as it sank in. though, they began asking questions at breakneck speed and shouting over one another. Harry's eyes bounced from person to person but it was impossible for him to keep up with the banter.
“–He doesn't have access to any weapons!”
“Who would give you a kid–”
“–No one gave me him! Jesus Christ, Barton do I have to give you the birds and the bees talk?!”
“–Is this really a surprise? Knowing a fraction of his history, it was bound to happen–”
“–When did he show up?”
“About a week ago–”
“–Is this why you've been hiding out on your floor?”
“We haven't been hiding–”
“Why do I feel you knew about this and didn't tell us?”
The last question came from Steve to Bruce. That Bruce was the only one of the group who remained seated on one of the most comfortable looking plush chairs Harry had ever seen, with a dumbfounded expression on his face, probably gave his secret away. With the attention now on the doctor, the entire room went eerily silent waiting for his answer.
“What was I supposed to do? It wasn't my place to say anything,” Bruce eventually blurted out to defend himself. He pointed at Natasha, who had dropped Harry off next to Tony, and continued on to sit beside Clint. “How did you even find out?”
“Yeah, Natasha,” Tony whipped around to face her. “Care to explain?”
“Lucky guess?” She offered, giving a nonchalant shrug of her shoulder. “It wasn't hard to figure out. You’ve locked yourself away all week–and not in your shop–you call us all here, telling us you have some big news and the kid waiting outside looks like a younger, scrawnier version of you.” She winked at Harry. “Sorry kid, it's true. You need to put some muscle in those bones if you're gonna survive here.”
“I'm sure it was more than luck, Romanoff.”
She gave another shrug, but this time didn't provide any extra commentary.
Releasing a sad sigh at his big moment lost, Tony motioned Harry forward until they stood side-by-side. “Everyone, I'd like to introduce you to my son, Harry Evans. Harry, from left to right you have Maria Hill, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff… you know Bruce and Rhodey already… and that's Steve Rogers. Like I mentioned the other day, Thor doesn't regularly show up around here unless we need some extra power on a mission, which usually means I'm there too.”
The group collectively groaned, and Clint muttered, “Get over yourself, Stark.” True to form, Tony ignored every negative comment made about him.
“Now with Harry here tonight,” he went on, pointing his finger at them as he spoke, “every single one of you better be on your best behavior. If Pepper catches any word of gambling or life- or limb-threatening stunts, I'm kicking you all out of my Tower.”
“Wait a minute,” Clint said, pointing his finger into the air. “Just to make sure I understand correctly, are you saying we can't do any of that stuff, or Pepper can't know about it?”
“Interpret it how you'd like, just know you've been warned.” Tony held his hands up in innocence. “Now let's get this party started.”
And “party” was definitely the best word to describe it.
Loud music poured out from hidden speakers around the room, the same ones he assumed were everywhere for access to JARVIS, as they made their way over to the food. Natasha — “Baby Stark can call me Nat” — had been right about dinner. From the common Fish and Chips and Banger and Mash to a bite-sized version of Steak and Kidney Pie and Scotch Eggs, Tony indulged in ordering every British dish he could think of in the Manhattan area. If anyone cared about the food selection, they kept their complaints to themselves and piled mounds of different dishes onto their plates.
Harry added a small salad, a few pieces of fish and some chips to his plate, then followed Clint to the middle part and dropped on the couch. He took a peek at the adults surrounding him to see how they arranged their plates before placing his plate on the coffee table in front of him. Growing up, Dudley could occasionally eat in the living room — the only rule Aunt Petunia truly enforced was dining at the table or in the kitchen — but Harry wasn’t allowed to. At Hogwarts, they ate all of their meals in the Great Hall and only had snacks in the common room, so seeing a group of men and women settling around the sofa or even sitting on the floor, plates of food balanced on their laps, made him smile. But it was comfortable, and it reminded him of his first meal at The Burrow.
Unlike at the Burrow and everywhere else in the Wizarding World, the Avengers knew nothing about him, while he knew quite a lot about them. Throughout dinner, Harry patiently answered their questions about himself and his life in England. He limited the details of his mum’s and James's death to “a car accident” when asked how he ended up living with the Dursleys, and then changed the subject to attending an exclusive boarding school in Scotland, his friends, and his love of sports, all of which he said with such conviction that they didn't seem to doubt any of it.
The conversation took a bizarre turn when they started interrogating Tony about how much he learned about Harry in the week he’d been living there. By then, the adults had finished several rounds of their "adults only" beverages, as Tony immaturely referred to it, and they started yelling out things for Tony to answer. What started easy with his favorite color, food, and class subject, ended at where Harry's was born and how Tony had met Lily.
“I was invited to take a class on robotics in London.” Tony swirled the amber liquid in his glass tumbler and took a long sip from it. “It ended up being a colossal waste of time and by the third session I was positive the only reason I got the invite was so they could use my name in their marketing materials.” He spread his hands across his face, like displaying a sign. “Come here and get a mediocre engineering education! Why? You know… because the great Tony Stark attended!”
“So, did you meet in class?” Bruce thoughtfully asked. “Was she a student there?”
“No–” Tony exaggerated the end of the word. “We met at a little rundown dive bar.”
“Of course, you did.” Steve shook his head in disappointment and after everything Harry had seen and heard about his father's history, Steve really shouldn’t have sounded so disappointed.
“Lily was studying to be a nurse,” Tony said, turning serious. “She told me she was there looking for a way to forget an awful day at work and I was there trying to hide from my destiny. Worked too because somehow I was attracted to the only woman who had no clue who I was. Even on the day I left, I still couldn't tell if she was lying about it or not.”
“Why would she have lied?” Harry blurted out, unable to stay quiet when the topic of his mother took a turn in a possibly unfavorable direction for his mother.
Nat let out a loud sarcastic laugh, “You'd be surprised, kid. The number of women who throw themselves at your dad is crazy. I've gotten the unfortunate chance to see it firsthand, and let's just say that if I wanted to catch his attention, and set myself apart from them, I'd play dumb about who he is… the nurse card would be an added benefit.”
Another round of ruckus laughter passed through the adults, followed by various jokes about Tony playing patient for the new nurse. Except Harry didn't find it funny at all. The mere idea of his existence coming from his mother playing into his father's Playboy lifestyle made Harry's stomach churn. Not that anyone noticed Harry's reaction as the teasing and jokes continued to get worse and worse.
“Hey, guys!” Steve finally yelled over everyone talking. “Cool it down, will you?”
Everyone turned to Harry, staring at him, making his face darken at least three more shades of red.
“Oh, shit!” Tony exclaimed with a sinister chuckle. “I'm sorry, Harry. That was wildly inappropriate and not what you need to hear about you old man and… and your mother who I have no doubt loved you very much. I… uh… God, Pepper was right to say I’d screw this up… I barely made it through dinner.”
Harry resisted the urge to tell him he didn't mind, to keep the peace. But it wasn't fine. The veiled insults to his mother — a woman who protected him by choosing to go through with an unplanned pregnancy and then literally died for him against Voldemort — stung deep in his soul. The silence built up in the room, broken only by the continued music and Clint crunching away at a handful of crisps.
Maria eventually saved them all and broke the awkward silence by asking, “When is his birthday?”
Like a light switch, Tony's face shifted from heavy guilt to light-hearted. “You know I have his official birth certificate, right?” He scoffed, flashing the woman a cocky smirk. “And practically a photogenic memory, it's almost too easy to answer.”
“Having the certificate doesn't mean you read it, and it wasn't like you were there for the event,” Clint countered, without missing a beat. Nat slapped his arm when a puff of crumbs fell from his mouth as he spoke.
“Fine, fine,” Tony grumbled. He lifted his hand in the air, drawing more of their attention towards him and not to Harry. Not realizing it, Harry watched him with bated breath, equally expecting him to get it and miss it. “It's July…” Tony paused, his brown eyes met Harry's green, “... 31st… 1998. And for those of you who can't do mental math–ahem, Clint–he'll be turning fifteenin a week and a half, and, no, gifts are not optional.”
Harry fought back the lump instantaneously forming in his throat. Many people knew his birthday… most complete strangers to him. Yet the simple fact of his father knowing it meant more than all of them. None of his relatives had remembered or even cared. Now he had one.
“Well happy early birthday, Harry,” Maria said to him. “Any birthday traditions Tony should know about from home?”
Harry opened his mouth to tell them they didn't need to celebrate it, but quickly closed it. They didn't need to know how the closest he'd ever come to celebrating the day had been Hagrid bringing him a birthday cake with his Hogwarts letter on his eleventh birthday. Or how the Dursleys ignored every single birthday before then, and the ones since then included him getting locked away on his twelfth birthday for the Dobby debacle, blowing up Aunt Marge on his thirteenth — living at The Leaky Cauldron afterward could be considered a positive but no one really acknowledged his birthday — and then last year he spent it in his room eating the treats his friends sent him. Overall, his threshold for birthdays was set embarrassingly low.
Fortunately, he didn't have to think of a better answer than the truth because Tony jumped in. “Just say the word and we'll arrange it. Since Pepper won't let me throw him a party–”
“For good reason,” Rhodey interrupted. “He's fifteen, Tones, and your parties are notoriously not teenager-appropriate.”
“Hey! I can cool it down to a solid fifteen-year-old level,” Tony pouted. He turned to Harry and said, “I promise, I'll work on that for next year. For this year, what do you think about taking a trip out to the Malibu house?”
Harry had just taken a sip of his soda and coughed at the absurd suggestion. Immediately, Maria clapped her hand on his back to help, until he regained enough composure to wave her off.
And, of course, amid some of the brightest and most famous people in the country, Harry asked the first thing that came to his mind, “Erm, would we have to fly there?”
“Yeah, kid. California is kind of on the other side of the country,” Tony snorted, making Harry feel even more embarrassed for asking it. “Which, as the crow flies, would be like going from London to…” he screwed his eye doing some mental math, “... somewhere in the middle of Russia. Definitely past Moscow. To give some better perspective on it, flying still takes somewhere around six hours from here, about the same time it took you to fly to New York from London.”
“Oh.” Harry obviously knew the United States was big, but he hadn't realized it was ‘across the ocean’ big.
Picking up on Harry's apprehension, Tony casually asked, “Is that a problem? Because you said the other day, you've never been to a beach and we have the best spot on the Pacific for your first beach experience. You're going to love it.”
“It's n-nothing,” Harry stuttered, struggling to think of any excuse to stay put. “I really didn't enjoy flying here much. The plane… it-it kind of freaked me out.”
“I mean, sitting in the cramped economy seats will freak anyone out,” Tony joked. “You’ll feel better in the jet, trust me. Besides, the trip isn’t totally altruistic. I have to head out there anyway to close up the house and Pepper already agreed to attend a fundraiser out there. I didn’t plan on attending but it’d be a cool trip for me, you, and Pep to take together. And you'd get to see another of your many homes.”
Harry's eyes widened. “Many?”
“We’ve places all over the world, Bambino.” Tony took a long sip of his drink from the tumbler, hiding a sly smile behind the glass. “Anywhere you want to go, I'm sure I've got somewhere for us to stay. No matter where we go, we'll travel there in style. What’d you say we get you some extra-strength sunscreen so your pasty ass doesn't burn and we spend your birthday at the ocean?”
How could Harry say no to that? Especially considering he didn't want to say no. Almost already able to feel the warm sand between his toes, he wanted to spend his birthday there with Tony and Pepper, to get to know them away from Stark Industries and the Avengers, and he really, really wanted to see the ocean. The Dursleys took a trip to the ocean every other summer which Harry never got to go, making the “family” pictures Aunt Petunia framed from their trips the closest Harry came to seeing it.
The only potential issue was Snape. Since Snape had made it crystal clear Harry wasn't worth risking international disapparation, he probably wouldn't be dropping in randomly. It wouldn't stop Harry either way; annoying Snape was a pastime Harry enjoyed. Getting caught and ruining his chances of living with Sirius impacted his decision more than Snape, but if California was further from London than New York, then Harry could argue that putting extra distance between him and the Death Eaters searching for him was a good thing.
“Sounds awesome,” Harry finally answered, relishing in the warmth growing inside of him at Tony's elevation; another new experience for Harry — actually wanting to make an adult happy.
As soon as Tony heard Harry's approval, he eagerly told Harry and the rest of the group about life in Malibu. In the amount of detail he provided, Harry could basically smell the salt water as he imagined the cliff-side mansion — shivering slightly at the term because it reminded him too much of Malfoy — with as many windows overlooking the ocean as the Tower had overlooking New York. And because it was sitting on the west coast, Harry could watch the sunset over the water, which the teen did not know how badly he wanted to see it until Tony described it.
“As exciting as this has been, I believe it's time to begin the fun half of the night." Nat stood and extended her arm, inviting Harry to join her. "C'mon, Baby Stark–”
“Don't call me that.”
Nat pretended not to hear him, but her smirk suggested otherwise. "You need to get to know the team away from Daddy Stark.”
"Oh, you definitely don't want to call me that," Tony warned. "Pepper would take offense to that and she can be downright scary sometimes.”
“Gross.” Harry grimaced, his expression certainly resembling when he took Skele-Gro in his second year. He definitely didn't need to know that information.
Tony jabbed his finger at her, scolding her like a child. “Don't go corrupting my kid, Romanoff. He's an innocent one. I'd like him to stay that way.”
“Oh, don't you worry, Tony, I'm sure you'll handle that all on your own.” She threw her arm tightly around his shoulders and guided him towards the game room. Then after giving Harry a mischievous wink, she called over her shoulder, “Besides he's almost fifteen, and no fifteen-year-old boy is innocent.”
Notes:
AN: I really wanted to expand on the end, specifically another scene with Harry and the Avengers beyond what was originally written but lately I'm having a hard time connecting with Harry's character. He needs to be angsty for a bit longer and I need less angst in my real life. So we're not meshing well. In order to not delay this chapter, I decided not to include more. I might either split the POV next chapter to start with Harry and Avengers or add it as a one-shot later. While it doesn't really add anything to the story plots, I have extra room on the next one for it. We'll see.
Chapter 13: Tony's Teammate Troubles
Notes:
Thank you to everyone who is taking their time to read this and commenting/reviewing! I read and appreciate every one of them :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
"Does Fury know about him?"
Tony stood at the small bar in the back of the room, near the door leading out to the balcony, watching Harry like a hawk while pretending he didn't see Maria Hill in his peripheral vision or hear the personal question she posed to him.
For the most part, his teammates' activities with Harry had been relatively tame by the Avengers standards. Clint kicked the kid's ass at darts, they were all decently bad at billiards, but it was playing ping-pong that had Tony's head spinning. Of all the awesome stuff he filled their common area with, the damn ping-pong table was the one thing Steve requested and Tony grudgingly added. Who played ping-pong anymore? Harry apparently, because even across the room, Tony could see the talent of his son's swift reflexes, almost looking like he was consistently a step ahead of Steve. Wherever the ball sprang to Harry's paddle always made it the right place to return it.
Harry's downfall, however, came to controlling the ball. Every fifth hit or so, Harry slammed the ball way too hard, sending it soaring somewhere off Steve's shoulder. It was a move Tony pulled often too, but in his case, it usually came from him losing his temper at the boring game, whereas Harry seemed so focused on the ball he simply forgot what game he was playing. Naturally, Steve caught every single wayward ball, sent Harry one of his signature understanding smiles, and they carried right on their way. It made for a rather fascinating game to watch if Tony had ever considered ping-pong fascinating.
Plus, watching Harry give Steve a run for his money at his own game would have been a perfect way to ignore Maria's question until her face blocked his view and once again asked, "Did you tell Fury about Harry?"
Tony downed the last bit of his Coke and made an exaggerated move to place the cup in the sink on the other side of the empty bar. Clint was on clean-up duty this week and Tony loved to hear him complain about the extra dishes he intentionally used.
"Why do I need to tell Fury anything?" He asked, his arms crossed firmly over his chest and eyes squinted warily at her. He had every intention to make the conversation as outwardly uncomfortable for her as he felt inside and had zero guilt over it. "I don't report to him… never had and never will if I have it my way, and I usually do… meaning he has no right to know shit about my personal, private life. So tell me, why does he need to know?"
Maria pulled out the barstool next to him and sat down with her back to the bar and her elbows casually propped over the top of the chair. She leaned towards Tony and said in a low voice, "I'm sure you've already thought about the potential danger that being your son puts him in. If certain people find out…"
She trailed off allowing Tony's imagination to take over, and it did without fail, flashing images of Harry trapped in an Afghanistan cave and Tony anxiously searching for him. The one advantage of having no personal relationships in the past — specifically a girlfriend or a child — was that it meant that Tony's enemies had no leverage to use against him. It forced groups like the Ten Rings to capture Tony alone in order for him to build their damn missile rather than targeting Pepper, and now Harry, as an added incentive; things would have turned out quite differently if they had. For one, Iron Man wouldn't exist because Tony wouldn't have risked fighting his way out of the cave for fear of losing one of them. Despite all the good that came out of Iron Man's creation, Tony would always carry the guilt over Yinsen's death. If someone were to murder Harry just to get to Tony? Well… he might have just learned of his son's existence a week ago, but he already knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if his enemies targeted Harry.
"Yeah, I get the picture," Tony snapped, whipping around and slamming his hand on the bar right beside her arm. Of course, Maria didn't flinch at his aggressive movement or the noise it made, dampened a bit by the surrounding music.
"Fury can help protect Harry. Keep him off the wrong kind of radar."
"I think you're forgetting who you're talking to," Tony warned her through his clenched teeth. "I'm the one who got into SHIELD's supposedly secure system right under your own damn noses with absolutely no one aware of it, so excuse me if I don't trust Fury to do the job right. If I choose to tell Fury anything–and that's a big if–it will be on my terms and not because I'm afraid I can't protect him. I'm fucking Iron Man, if I can't keep my kid safe then we might as well give it all up–" he swept his hands around the room, "–now and throw the towel in."
Maria didn't respond to his rant, not that Tony expected her to because everything he stated had been true. Although accessing SHIELD's database hadn't even been difficult for him to do, he had to accept that few others had the
resources — financially, intelligently, and technologically speaking — to do so. Still, the small number of people out there who could do it concerned him, and after last week's shopping fiasco, he wasn't taking any unnecessary chances.
Tony scanned the room, desperate to avoid any further conversation about the subject, and landed on Rhodey sitting on the couch playing the new sniper game Tony downloaded specifically for him last week. Their eyes met and Rhodey subtly tilted his head, silently recognizing Tony's need and inviting him to interrupt.
"Well, there's my ride. I'll keep your suggestion in mind. Enjoy the bar and remember to use a few extra cups this week," Tony rudely said, dramatically pushing himself off the bar. Right before he left her earshot, he yelled over his shoulder, "And I better not find out you said anything to him first. Believe me, you don't want to flirt with that line."
He didn't wait to see her reaction or stay close enough to hear her response. Slowly making his way over to his friend, he surveyed the team around the room. Everyone besides Rhodey, and now Tony, were mingling in what had to be considered a record-breaking amount of time at one of these events, proving the merits of Steve's little social experiment. Granted, they were all huddled around the ping-pong table, cheering on Harry against Steve in their umpteenth game so Tony gave himself at least half-credit for the success of the night. He waved a hand at Harry and gave him a thumbs up for how awesome his son appeared to be at ping-pong, of all things, before falling down hard beside Rhodey and grabbing the extra remote the other offered to him.
In silence, Tony chose his character and weapon at random, not caring how he played against his friend. For a former weapons manufacturer, Tony recognized the irony of shooting games ranking near the bottom of his video game list. The top spot used to go to any racing game; the faster he could drive the better and he was damn good at them. However, they lost their luster following the events in Monaco two years ago, and he could not get as excited about them since. Now, he usually let Rhodey choose their game, and to no one's surprise, he always picked the war games.
Once all set and ready to start, providing him the perfect veil for his upcoming compliment, Tony muttered, "Thanks for saving me over there."
"Anytime, Tones," Rhodey replied without glancing away from the screen. "Looked like a riveting conversation between you and Hill, anything worth sharing?"
"I think Fury's hiding someone," he said, and with a tilt of his head he added, "or possibly a lot of someones."
"That's a pretty big accusation."
"I don't care." Tony snorted. "And it being Fury, I sure hope whoever he's hiding has a contingency plan from whomever they're hiding from." Under the familiarity of smashing down buttons and watching his targets fall, hitting more frequently than missing, Tony told Rhodey the highlights of Maria's unsolicited idea to include Fury, and by extension SHIELD, in his baby announcement. When he got to the end, he didn't wait to hear Rhodey's opinion on whether he should tell Fury about Harry — it didn't matter to Tony either way — before jumping into his accusation of Fury hiding people. "Hill sounded pretty damn convinced he could keep Harry off the radar of any potentially interested parties. You don't sound that confident if you haven't seen it done before. It wouldn't surprise me if Hill had a hand in it too, which would have been a slightly more compelling justification to include Harry."
Rhodey whispered 'yes' under his breath as his avatar took down two hiding enemies simultaneously. "So what are you going to do about it?"
"Not a fucking thing right now. I have my own mysteries to solve. This will have to take a backseat for a while." Tony clicked his tongue in annoyance, hating to admit he had reached his limit. Taking a brief glance over his shoulder to check Harry was still playing against Cap, he slid closer to Rhodey and whispered, "Want to hear the latest on Bambino?"
Rhodey shot him a sideways glare, and Tony scooted over until their legs were no longer touching. "You know he physically cringes every time you call him that, right?"
"He does?" No, Tony hadn't noticed the action. How many times had he called his kid by the Italian nickname in the last week? Too many, apparently.
"But go on," Rhodey interrupted Tony's train of thought. "What'd you illegally find on him?"
Ignoring the jab at his less than stellar ethics, seeing as obtaining years worth of video surveillance around the UK in the manner he did certainly wouldn't be considered legal even in Tony's loose interpretation of the word, Tony explained the newest conundrum he discovered two days ago, "I have to assume Harry physically went to some kind of boarding school somewhere in the UK, right? Otherwise, that's a big lie to keep straight for as often as he's talked about it. So assuming that's correct, I then asked myself 'how does he get there?' and it turns out he takes a train. Or at least I think he does. I found a video of a pathetic-looking eleven-year-old Harry being dropped off at Kings Cross Station in London by his shitty relatives. They didn't even help him with his luggage. Or made sure he got onto the right train. Which, as it turns out, he didn't."
"You mean he got on the wrong train?" Rhodey asked. Tony winced at the small tinge of hope in his voice that he hadn't misheard the statement.
"Worse." Tony aimed his scope and shot at an enemy soldier hiding in the warehouse across from his avatar soldier. "He never made it onto any train." The game suddenly stopped, right as Tony was aiming at a different guy throwing grenades at him. "What the hell? I was just about to kill him! Now it's going to lag, and he's going to blow me up as soon as you restart it!"
"We both know you were going to miss the shot," Rhodey retorted. "Now, what do you mean he didn't get on any train? Did he leave the station?"
"Turn it back on and I'll tell you," Tony taunted. The two men stared at each other for a second until finally Rhodey resumed the game with a small huff and muttering something about Tony acting like a child. "No, he didn't leave the station and unless there are specific trains not monitored… a whole separate security issue… he didn't board a single train that day. Before you ask, I couldn't track him on the platforms because from ten until noon the cameras on all the platforms were mysteriously down. Total blackout throughout the entire area and not a single service bulletin about it.
"In fact, I can't find any footage of him at all until the following June when he loaded his stuff into his relatives' car. Between those two dates, I can't find him on any camera in London, Surrey, or anywhere in Scotland. But I uncovered a document from his Aunt dis-enrolling him from Stonewall High. On the form, she wrote he would attend St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys–"
"Jesus, Tony!"
"Yeah, I know," he sighed in defeat. The story kept getting worse the more Tony dug into it, and he hadn't even mentioned the possible owl — yes, owl — in the cage he thought he saw Harry carrying on his luggage cart. Deep down he wanted to just lock it away in a drawer to focus on Harry's present, not his past, except he was never good at putting down a problem until he found the solution. And there was always a solution somewhere. "Thankfully, St. Brutus also has no record of him there and honestly that's one dead end I'm not sure I want to go into any further."
"Then where'd he go for ten months? And how'd he get there?" Rhodey asked the million dollar questions; questions Tony would give double, or triple, to have answered for him. "Maybe Pepper's right, Tones, and you need to flat-out ask him about it. Just do it in a way so you don't look like the creepy stalker parent you're being."
Obviously, Harry knew where he had spent the previous four years of school, so asking him about it directly made the most sense… as a last resort and Tony wasn't sure he was there yet. He tried to subtly ask the teen three different ways about his schooling last week, and each time Harry parroted a version of it being an exclusive boarding school — Tony noted how Harry repeatedly used the term exclusive whenever he described it — in Scotland, he had decent grades, and he played sports there. Although Tony had to say that for having played British football for at least four years, Harry's extremely limited knowledge of the sport claimed otherwise. The same went for his classroom knowledge not aligning with the grades he received in basic math and science. Based on the school reports the professor brought him, Harry was a decent student, earning mostly the British equivalent of B's with a few A's scattered in. Yet he knew basically nothing about geometry or early algebra; two subjects he should have known to have earned the grades on his report cards.
Tony ended up reaching one conclusion which he absolutely hated himself for considering. It made far more sense for Harry to be attending St. Brutus's or a comparable institution than some super-secret boarding school: it was exclusive, didn't stress standard school subjects, and explained the bruises — as well as the strange scars on his arms — Tony saw better than soccer. As an added bonus, if Harry had a violent or criminal background, it could explain why he went missing for a few years as juvenile records were significantly harder to access, why his relatives were eager to ship him off to Tony sight unseen, and why someone, likely the mysterious professor, went out of their way to hide it from Tony, including mocking up a few fake school records to divert his attention away from the true issues. It meant that his two prime contenders were his son being in a cult or violent criminal. Less than ideal options.
Luckily, Tony noticed Harry approaching them before he spewed any of this to Rhodey within Harry's earshot.
"What's up, kiddo," Tony said loudly, emphasizing the last word both to tell Rhodey their investigation had to end and his use of a different moniker. He glanced at Harry out of the corner of his eyes, keeping most of his attention on his avatar's latest target. "I saw you kicking Steve's ass. Didn't realize you had such great reflexes. Like a cat. Seriously, you totally could've hustled him."
"Remember, no gambling, Tones," Rhodey tsked at him, then gave a few grunts at his avatar, and paused the game again.
Tony didn't argue this time, instead directed his focus to his son, taking notice of the obvious shifting of his weight between his feet, on top of the awkward way he cradled his right arm in his left, as if he was attempting to conceal an injury. "You alright there? Did Steve—"
"Oh, it's fine," Harry quickly interrupted, straightening his arm out and flexing his fingers. "See? I'm just feeling a bit… knackered… and wanted to let you know I'm going to head off to bed."
Tony craned his neck to check the clock on the wall. Damn, barely after eleven. What happened to teenagers staying up all hours of the night?
"Sure thing. Let me go tell–" He moved to put his controller down, but Harry stopped him.
"No, you can stay," the teen urged. "I can get back downstairs on my own. Promise."
Tony eyed him skeptically, the recent reminder of his potential stay at St. Brutus's fresh on his mind. JARVIS would watch him the entire way, though, and alert Tony if he went off course, so there wasn't too much trouble the kid could get into.
"Sure thing," he leaned against the sofa, crossing his ankle over his knee to appear calmer about it than he felt. "Go downstairs and get some rest. No offense but you look like you need it. If you see Pepper, can you let her know I'll be down in about an hour? If she's not there, don't wake her up to tell her. Trust me, you won't want to endure her wrath for ruining her precious sleep. But she's probably reading in the living room waiting for us, right JARVIS?"
"Miss Potts is currently working on the puzzle of the Seine River and has three hundred and twelve pieces left to go."
Tony held his hands out as if to say 'there you go'. Honestly, Pepper was a godsend and the guilt of leaving Pepper to deal with Harry every night this past week continuously ate away at him. Not for the first time he told himself he really didn't deserve her and he needed to do better for both her and Harry. Next week. He'd be home more next week… definitely before they left for Malibu at the end of the month.
Harry didn't smile at the joke about Pepper's sleep or comment about her waiting up for them. He simply nodded his head, bid Rhodey good night, and told Tony he'd probably be asleep when he returned. Tony watched him leave, noticing small nuances in the teen he half-hoped he was imagining; a slight limp to his right and a small sway as he waited for the elevator. Tony continued to stare at the empty space long after Harry entered the elevator and JARVIS informed him of Harry's return home, therefore he didn't see Steve come up to them from behind. A dangerous move on the super-soldier's part given their company.
"Rhodes?" Steve asked when neither Rhodey nor Tony greeted him. "Mind giving us a minute?"
Against his will, Tony stiffened at the request, his intuition screaming that Steve's appearance just as Harry left couldn't be a coincidence. Tony clapped Rhodey on the back. "All good here, Platypus. Are you heading back to DC tomorrow?"
"Yeah, in the morning," Rhodey replied, his furrowed face revealing his shared displeasure with Caps' appearance. They may have all come a long way in bonding as a team since they first met on the helicarrier, tracking Loki down, but Rhodey hadn't been there through that and he had experienced, firsthand, Tony living in Captain America's shadow. "Unless, of course, you need me–"
"Nope," Tony emphatically stated, popping the 'p' at the end of the word. Well aware of Tony's true feelings, Tony fully expected a call from the man by tomorrow afternoon or as soon as he settled down in DC.
Tony abruptly stood. "Hope you can walk and talk," he said half over his shoulder. Walking to the food table, he filled two small bowls with popcorn in one and chips — or crisps as Harry had called them — in the other and took them to the same chair where he ate his dinner. Steve faithfully followed and sat down in the seat next to him.
Steve examined the two bowls. "I know I shouldn't ask…"
"And yet you're going to anyway," Tony retorted. He took a handful of popcorn and made a dramatic motion of dropping a few pieces onto the chair on the way to his mouth. The crisps would remain untouched, a full bowl left on the side of the chair. "Clint's on clean-up tonight and I know you know he left an excessive amount of napkins hidden around here on my cleaning night, so I'm returning the favor."
"Very mature of you."
"I aim to please." Tony plopped another few kernels into his mouth. "You and Harry seemed to hit it off nicely tonight. He's a great kid, isn't he? Cooks too. Must have inherited it from Mom's side… those Italians love a good meal. He looked like he was about to kick your ass—"
"How much time have you actually spent with him this week?"
Perfect. He struck a nerve close enough to reveal the true purpose of Steve's little meeting.
"You mean in the single week he's been here? Yeah, I've spent time with him. Certainly more than you have," Tony quipped. Sure, it wasn't nearly as much as he wanted, but he wouldn't tell Mr. Family-Values that. "Who said I didn't? Did Harry say something to you or are you–"
"No one said anything, and there's no need to get defensive–"
"I'm not getting defensive." Tony lied. His guy was telling him Steve meant no harm, but there was something infuriating about the man Tony grew up being compared to — for all intents and purposes, Howard's first son — critiquing his parenting skills; skills Tony already doubted himself on. "I simply think you're forgetting how some of us have to actually work around here and that I have a multi-faceted company to run. Or who do you suppose foots the bills for all this? Not you. And yet you met the kid… my kid… for what? A few hours and suddenly you think you have the right to tell me what I'm doing wrong?" He hesitated, waiting for the other man to respond. Nothing came. Steve simply sat there, his judgemental blue eyes staring a hole into Tony's fractured soul. "Go ahead, Cap. You started all this. Spit it out."
The challenge wouldn't be ignored, which Tony counted on.
Steve pursed his lips. "I think you're in over your head."
"God," Tony chortled. "Because you're such an expert on teenagers? Modern teenagers, nonetheless?"
"No," Steve said, some of the steam leaving his voice. "No, I'm not an expert, but I am observant."
"And what did you observe?"
Steve released a frustrated groan. "He's on edge, Tony… Fidgety. And who could blame the kid? He got ripped from his life and dragged halfway around the world to meet his father whom he thought was dead for the past decade. But… but more than that, he's jittery as in, raced to the side of the table facing the door and then asked Clint to swap with him when we rotated players so he didn't end up with his back to everyone."
"Ok, he likes to face the doorway." A shrug of Tony's shoulder helped him appear less invested in the story than he was. "Many people do. Hell, I can't sleep unless my bed faces North."
"And he constantly scanned the room," Steve continued, unfazed by Tony's attempt to lighten the conversation. "Even as he was actively hitting the ball, his eyes were always roaming around. It made his reflexes even more impressive, but a fourteen-year-old–"
"Almost fifteen," Tony corrected.
"-doesn't naturally have those instincts. It makes me wonder where he learned them, and why."
Tony bit the inside of his cheek to prevent adding his own commentary to the situation. For obvious reasons, he had shared nothing about Harry's sketchy past, the cult, or his probable stay at some criminal institution, and he certainly didn't want to tell Steve Rogers, of all people, about it now. None of it would make this conversation any better. What he felt comfortable sharing was how Harry's relatives were not always the nicest people to him. Not giving any details — those were Harry's to share, or not, if he wanted — Tony disclosed his opinion of Harry being neglected and abused most of his life, logically explaining his reactions; while also showing Steve that he had spoken with his son during the week despite what the man might think.
Reaching the end of his story and his patience, Tony finished with, "So there you have it. Anything else you'd like to bring up while we're chatting?"
The question had been rhetorical, his nicest way of saying 'You don't know shit, now leave me the hell alone', and yet Steve smiled at him. The same better-than-thou smile Tony wanted to wipe off his face using every weapon in his gauntlet.
"Well, since you asked–"
"I really didn't. You're just awful at picking up on context clues… guess you aren't perfect after all."
"Did you notice the tremors?"
Tony grimaced. His arm. Harry holding his arm and claiming it was fine clearly had been a thing… a thing Tony, a better father than Howard Stark, should have noticed. A thing that Steve fucking Rogers did.
"His hand?" Tony dares to admit, and Steve confirmed with a low mhmm. "He had… ah… an issue… on his first night here. Said it was from a sports accident and I had no reason to doubt him. I haven't noticed any problems with it since and figured it healed. What happened? Perhaps the ping-pong flared it up?"
"No, I don't think so."
To his credit, Steve didn't gloat at Tony's disadvantaged position, which was exactly what Tony would have done if their roles were reversed. Instead, he sounded genuinely concerned for Harry, mentioning how shortly after Natasha swapped out with Harry the teen dropped his cup of Coke and then fell straight to the ground… almost exactly the same actions after pizza the first night. Also similar to the first incident, it took Harry nearly a minute on the floor to collect himself. Bruce tried to look at it, but Harry refused, assuring everyone he was just tired, and then calling it a night. According to Steve, Harry appeared in good spirits beforehand, even shit-talking — Tony's interpretation of Steve's account — alongside Clint, and nothing unusual occurred leading up to the event. A few focused questions later, Tony found no glaring physical cause to trigger it, something Steve had apparently already discovered.
Let's add it to the growing list of things surrounding the boy.
"I'll ask him about it," Tony agreed, fully expecting the conversation to end there, but of course Steve persisted.
"I think he'd benefit from seeing someone… like a therapist," Steve offered and Tony was glad he hadn't stood up yet; sitting made it impossible to hit the man for sticking his nose where it wasn't wanted. "Outside of all the changes in living here, he-he reminds me of the guys at the VA."
As the tension between them exponentially intensified, Tony became conscious of the audience they were attracting. He pinched his eyes tightly closed, teetering on the verge of his patience and feeling himself itching to vent all of his pent-up frustrations onto the other man. It was the only justification Tony could fathom for why rather than shutting down the conversation immediately he asked, "And what does that mean, exactly?"
"Like he's seen…or maybe experienced… something..." Steve trailed off, hoping Tony would fill in the blank, and he might have had he not unconsciously made the decision that he wanted to see how far Steve would take it; how deep he'd dig the hole. So when Tony didn't respond, or show any outward notion of understanding, Steve sealed his fate by predictably elaborating, "Like he's experienced trauma, Tony. Something serious too. If you need help, I know a guy—"
In a split second, his eyes snapped open, and he swore he saw red creep into the edges of his vision. Steve crossed the invisible line Tony had set, giving Tony all the rationalization he needed to let go. "Let me stop you right there, Cap. If we… being me, Harry, or Pepper and not a single other person… decide there's a problem then we will handle it however we see fit.
"Give him a break! He's been here for a fucking week! A single week. All I wanted was for you to meet him, so you know what the hell is going on in the Tower. At least let him… let us… settle in before you tear him apart, will you? "
"Tony, I didn't mean–"
"Oh, no, I think you said exactly what you meant. And even if you end up being right, you are way out of line in how you handled it," Tony argued, standing up to effectively end their little impromptu meeting. "And just so there's no confusion here," Tony waved his hand between them, "I'm going to go downstairs, now. Do not follow me."
Notes:
Chapter 12-16 were all written together and separated as best to avoid being one huge chapter. I feel like separating it left this chapter a little weak on its own, so since I'm actually ahead of schedule on the writing side, chapter 14 is already mostly edited and I'm hoping to get it out in the next few days.
Chapter 14: The Family Man Protocol
Notes:
I loved hearing the opinions on if Steve was crossing a line in telling Tony or not. It's definitely a gray area situation, especially because in the timeframe of this fic, they are really only just starting to become a team. Thank you all for reading/favoriting/commenting!
Note: Just a reminder that Snape "froze" the pictures in Harry's photo album. I don't know if there's a canon way to do it but if they can hide Hogwarts there must be some way for the Statute purposes.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It took Tony less than half a day to see what Steve saw in Harry immediately, but another full day to admit his teammate was right. Whatever was happening with Harry was more than an adjustment period, and it seemed to get worse as the days went on. Before his eyes, the easy-going kid from those first few days, the boy who had listened attentively to Tony in the lab on his first night in the Tower, disappeared, leaving behind a quiet, anxious, borderline morose teenage boy. Worst of all, Tony recognized the same haunted expression on Harry that Tony had in the months following the New York invasion.
Naturally, Tony turned to his tech to figure out what was happening. Since JARVIS still couldn't retrieve any audio recording when Harry was in his bedroom — a glitch that Tony bumped up on his "to-do" list — he had to get a bit more creative than usual. He found himself in the lab on Sunday night, going through every bio-systems report he could find related to Harry's bedroom. He looked at everything, from water usage in the ensuite bathroom to any movement detected by the sensors, trying to piece together what Harry was up to in his bedroom each night. He was about to throw in the towel when he spotted the timestamps on the energy consumption report, which prompted him to specifically dig into Harry's bedroom light usage. That was when Tony discovered the first problem: either Harry had suddenly taken to sleeping with the lights on last week, or assuming he was awake while the lights were on, he wasn't getting any semblance of decent sleep. Tony knew all about how insomnia could mess with someone, and it definitely could explain Harry's less-than-stellar disposition lately. Hell, Tony could get downright insufferable if he strung too many late night work-benders in a row, and he was a professional at running on little sleep.
This discovery led Tony to the question, "why wasn't Harry sleeping?" and it didn't take a genius to narrow it down to either nightmares or insomnia. Genetics certainly could explain the latter. Tony had faced several bouts of insomnia throughout the years, and it wouldn't be the worst training he could hand down to his son. But Steve's uninvited opinion on the matter just wouldn't leave him alone, inevitably tipping the scale in favor of nightmares. So, this led him right to the next big question: what caused such intense nightmares that had the teenager waking up in the middle of the night and more often than not, staying awake afterward? None of his currently functional technology could answer this, but as he crawled into bed just before dawn on Monday, images of Harry spending most of the last four years in a juvenile detention center flashed through his mind.
The gravity of the situation hit him over breakfast on Monday morning, prompting Tony to design and activate the "Family Man" protocol. Under this protocol, JARVIS disabled all of Tony's devices and muted any non-urgent notifications at noon. This would stop Tony from hiding away in his lab, forcing him to be home with Harry every afternoon unless someone triggered the "Shit Hit the Fan" protocol. Next, Tony canceled all his work sessions with Peter for the week. Peter, of course, wasn't happy about it, and gave Tony a myriad of valuable reasons — he'd returned home from Genius Camp and had to hand in his essay about what he'd learned there to fulfill the requirement for the scholarship SI awarded him, he needed to make more web fluid before the weekend, they were right at the end of the news web shooter upgrade, he thought he solved the issue Tony had with the voltage of Nat's Bites. In the end, Tony stood his ground. He had one chance to get this parenting thing right, and he was already feeling like he was on the brink of failing.
Of course, Tony's entire plan depended on Harry opening up to him now that he was physically present, but as he quickly realized, that was not the case. He hardly saw the kid during his first two afternoons home, and by the third day, he was used to entering the silent penthouse, checking on Harry in his bedroom, and then spending the rest of the time in the living room trying to go insane from boredom until their takeout dinner arrived. Tonight, Tony chose Josephine's Italian, and not even the delicious aroma of lasagna and garlic rolls warming in the oven could draw Harry out of his bedroom. Tony's mother, and his grandmother, would be disappointed in both of them.
Tony took two wine glasses from the bar, placed them at his and Pepper's settings, and asked JARVIS to place an anonymous ad for a personal chef.
"Giving up on the recipes folder so soon, sir?" JARVIS replied.
"Hey, I have a growing, slightly malnourished teen to think about," Tony retorted. It really had been unrealistic of him yesterday to start meal planning. "We all know Pepper and I don't have time to cook dinner every night, I'm not asking Harry to cook for us no matter how amazing the meal was, and I don't need to be some superstar parent to know that living off the amount of takeout we eat would be frowned upon by every single pediatrician in existence. Ergo, a Stark Family chef is the best option I have."
"What days and meals would you like me to include?"
"Uh, let's go with dinner only on Mondays through Thursdays. I can discreetly have lunch sent up from the SI kitchens," he replied. As he heard the front door close he hastily added, "And upload all the resumes to my home server."
JARVIS had confirmed everything by the time Pepper appeared in the kitchen, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning in for a kiss.
"Look at you being all domestic house dad," she whispered into his smile. "I think it's a good change of pace for you."
"Well, don't get used to it." He dropped his hands from her shoulder in defeat. "I'll probably be throwing in the towel tomorrow."
"Still no luck with Harry?"
"Nope," he said, giving a nod toward Harry's bedroom to show just how frustrated he was. "It feels like he doesn't care if I'm around or not. In the last three days, all I've accomplished is driving myself crazy with nothing productive to do here."
She swept her hands over their perfectly set table. "Dinner is productive."
"Oh yeah," he huffed and gave such a hard eye roll he was surprised he didn't see the inside of his skull. "Telling JARVIS what to order and setting the table was a real workout. It took me hours to finish."
She playfully slapped his chest, expertly avoiding his arc reactor by just a hair, and then reached for the bottle of wine Tony had perfectly matched with their dinner.
"Give him some space. Remember, this is all new for him too." She poured the red wine into the decanter placed in the middle of the table. "If his aunt, uncle, and cousin didn't like him, he probably isn't used to having someone around who actually cares about him or what he's going through. Remember, you did the same thing with Jim."
He rubbed the back of his neck, deep in thought about what she said. As true as it might be, he'd repeated, and promptly ignored, the same story to himself again and again over the last three days, yet it just didn't seem to make him feel any better. He definitely preferred to be on Harry's side in this type of situation instead of being the adult in it.
"How was your day?" He asked, expertly deflecting the conversation away from him. Leaning nonchalantly against the breakfast bar, he watched her nervously fiddle with the plates and utensils on the table, shifting them around before returning them to the same places they started. Believe it or not, Tony knew how to properly set a table. "You look a bit frustrated. Anyone you need me to fire for you? Pretty sure I can still fire someone and I'm in a fiery mood this week. Pun intended."
"No, not yet anyway," she said, releasing a tired breath. "And, yes, you can say it was a rough day. Someone broke into the upstate facility last night."
"What?!" Tony pushed himself off the counter and in two fast strides approached her at the table. A break-in certainly qualified as 'shit hitting the fan' in his book, meaning no one — specifically, his girlfriend CEO — had officially notified him of it. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"This is me telling you."
"I kind of meant this morning, y'know, when I was actually at work," he argued, craning his head to make eye contact while she unnecessarily refolded Harry's napkin. "Why am I only finding out about it now, Pep?!"
She threw down the napkin, ignoring it tumbling into Harry's chair, and stood straight, practically towering over him in her heels. Pepper never cowered from anyone, least of all Tony, and that fearlessness was one reason he trusted her as the CEO of Stark Enterprises. Occasionally, Tony found it oddly sexy to be on the other side of her fury, but not when she kept something this big from him.
"What would you have done, Tony? Gone up there to help Mary-Ellen inventory the place?" She demanded, pausing for him to reply knowing he wouldn't have gone. After all, he hadn't done so for any of the prior break-ins. "Exactly. You would have used it as a distraction from what you need to be focused on here. It's why you made me CEO–to handle these situations–and I am handling it."
"Fine," he conceded. "Just…" he ran his hand through his hair, messing it up in the process, "we're a tech company, Pepper, how can this happen?"
"They don't have any information on that yet, Tony. At least not that the police have shared," she said, sadly. "As soon as I know, you'll know."
Her tired sign made Tony's stomach instantly knot. How many times had she answered that same question? And how many more times would she answer it once the media found out? He never wanted to add to her grief, at least not any more than usual.
"Any idea of what kind of damage we're talking about, here?" He asked gently, implying that he would drop the subject if she wanted to. At the same time, most of the facility upstate was a warehouse with only a small manufacturing area in the rest. He needed to know how bad the situation could be.
Pepper threw her hand up in the air. "A lot of vandalism. Whoever these people are, they clearly dislike you judging from the graffiti in the pictures. So far the only thing Mary-Ellen reported stolen was boxes of stationary–stationary, Tony! I could have given them whole pallets of pens, notebooks, and stickers… all of it for a fraction of what it's going to cost to clean the facility and change all locks and codes."
Tony didn't soften the blow. A full security system overhaul would be hell, and not just for Pepper to manage. Codes and badges had to be renewed for every department and regular visitors who entered the building. Honestly, it would almost be easier if —
"We'll close it." He announced, and the more he went through the details of the plan he had literally just formed in his head, the more he loved the idea.
Pepper scowled and mumbled, "I believe I may have missed the station for your train of thought. Close what?"
"The whole place!" He exclaimed. He started to pace, his feet and hands moving as fast as his brain as he spoke. "We can find another location for the manufacturing… you're great at finding those places… and I've been wanting to move the Avengers out, anyway. After a few renovations–in the form of a full makeover–upstate would make the perfect new compound for them. You have to agree, we're outgrowing this place, and this was what? The third break in this year that building's seen?" Pepper gave a hesitant, thoughtful nod. "Yeah… Well, I doubt anyone will mess with it if we plop the Avengers there, especially if any combination of them live there full time."
It made so much sense now that he mentioned it that he mentally kicked himself for using the Tower first. Sure, the Tower had the upscale chic atmosphere in the middle of the biggest city, but the blueprint drafts he was forming in his head for the Compound building would be comfortable — an actual home the Avengers could settle down in. Plus, the upstate facility sat on acres of land in the middle of nowhere. While it made the recent break-ins even more alarming, they could use the wooded landscape for outdoor training, walking and running paths, and a place to go to refresh.
Pepper reached out and stopped him in the middle of his fourth lap between the breakfast bar and the couch, muttering to himself about the potential plans and schedules. She moved in closer until they were standing eye to eye, and Tony could have stayed there forever, looking into the face that always made him feel like everything would work out just as it was meant to. She kept her gaze locked on him as she bent down to slip off her heels. They landed in the living room with a clatter, and Pepper shrank down to that familiar height, just right for Tony to wrap his arms around her.
"How about I finish getting the food on the table and you go call Harry for dinner?" She whispered into his ear. "The rest we will figure out later."
Later. In the years he called his "pre-Pepper days", later wouldn't be an option for Tony. Now, he could see how self-centered he had been in those days. He was working on improving his behavior by teaching himself to put things on the back burner for later instead of obsessively dwelling on them all the time.
Harry, Tony found out, was like any stereotypical teenager who valued his privacy, so Tony wasn't shocked to find his door closed when he got to the kid's bedroom. Tony remembered feeling like Harry every time he came home from school, but now that he was the adult in the situation, he really hated the idea of his child sitting on the other side doing who knew what. And given the Stark genes he inherited, Tony seriously reconsidered evaluating the bedroom door rules, especially until he figured out the issue with JARVIS's recording.
When Tony lightly tapped on the door's frame and didn't get a response, he gave it a firmer knock in the middle. The second, and more innocent, reason Tony hated the closed-door thing was because he never knew whether to just walk in if Harry didn't give his permission. That he could ask JARVIS to call Harry to dinner wasn't lost on him. But knowing Tony's luck, Harry would storm out right into Tony's chest as he awkwardly asked his AI to talk to his son for him. Definitely not the impression he wanted to leave, and the kid needed to learn to answer Tony, not only JARVIS.
Tony gave Harry another minute before finally deciding to go in.
It turned out he didn't have to worry about walking in on Harry unexpectedly because Harry wasn't even in his bedroom. He had a brief — and also unnecessary — panic until he heard the shower running in the bathroom next door, making it clear where he was; though it left Tony unsure of what to do next. He could just turn around and leave, telling JARVIS to let Harry know about dinner as soon as he was out of the shower, but standing alone in his room felt like a missed opportunity after Tony had spent the last three days literally waiting for Harry to open up to him. As long as he stuck to looking at things that were out in the open, avoiding opening drawers or digging through the closet, it didn't really count as snooping, did it? Not that he'd be against snooping in the right circumstances, he just didn't think it was that urgent… yet.
As Tony looked around the room, the first thing he noticed was how clean and tidy Harry kept it; rather impressive for a teenage boy. The sheets and blankets were neatly pulled up to the pillow, making the bed look more put together than Tony managed at his age. There were no piles of laundry in the corner — Harry insisted on doing his own when Tony offered to combine his with Tony and Pepper's for Theresa, Tony's private house cleaner, to do — and no stinky shoes haphazardly kicked off by the side of the bed, but there also no knickknacks collected over the years of his childhood sitting out on display on the shelves. In fact, taking another look around the room, if it weren't for the random pencils and loose leaf papers scattered on the desk, a couple of books and a tiny gold ball sitting on the bench overlooking the window, and the tall glass of water on the nightstand, it looked like no one actually lived there. Tony first assumed it meant Harry wasn't comfortable living there, or that the Tower was just a temporary home until he remembered the single backpack Harry showed up with. Considering he grew up with relatives who neglected him, Harry likely didn't have a lot of personal keepsakes to bring from home. Or, more accurately, from his old house to his new home.
Tony promised himself he'd change that — as soon as he figured out what was up with the kid — and he was already brainstorming a list of things to buy: Legos, comic books, anything else Harry mentioned he liked, plus a lot of pictures to brighten up the blue walls… starting with Malibu and possibly Harry and his friends around New York once he got around to inviting them to
With no other personal items in sight, Tony started with the books. There were two books sitting in the middle of the bench: The Next Chess Master and a rudimentary Chemistry textbook. Tony made a mental note of the chess book for later, but finding the Chemistry book a strange pick for a permanent overseas trip, he flipped through it, hoping to uncover some hidden meaning in the pages. Sadly, nothing really stood out to him.
The last book resting on the bench was near the far edge of the window like Harry had been reading it while leaning against the wall and looking outside. Tony's breath caught in his throat the moment he turned it over. This one was different from the other two; it wasn't an instructional book or a textbook. It wasn't an actual book at all. It was a photo album featuring a child on the cover — his child, his mind supplied — sandwiched between the somewhat familiar Lily Evans and a man Tony figured had to be James Potter. Harry seemed to be around a year old, but to be honest, Tony wasn't the best at gauging kid's ages. Logically, though, Harry couldn't be older than a year and a half. At that point, both adults in the photo had passed away, and based on the cheerful couple, caught mid-wave with their equally cheerful toddler, none of them knew of the tragic fate that awaited them.
As Tony flipped through the album, he gained more insight into his son. The first few pages were filled with baby or toddler Harry and Lily's wedding to James Potter. Then they jumped in time to a pre-teen Harry sitting on a train — confirming he took a train to and from school — nestled between a girl with the thickest hair Tony had ever seen and a boy with matching red hair and freckles. Hermione and Ron, Tony recalled. Harry's two best friends. Noticeably absent were any photographs connecting these two eras of Harry's life. They either didn't exist or Harry didn't see them as important enough to put in the album. The heavy lump growing in Tony's stomach led him to believe it was the former.
The sudden sound of the shower turning off pulled Tony out of his brief journey through Harry's photo album. Regardless of how tempting the glimpse into Harry's school life was, he absolutely could not be caught red-headed — literally with the book in his hands… a book of pictures that Harry had never once mentioned in the weeks he'd been living there.
A shimmer of golden light reflecting off the small ball next to the window grabbed his attention as he leaned down to set the album on its back in the same spot he had found it. The metal object, around the size of a ping-pong ball, had no branding or other distinguishing marks on it, and with so few belongings around Harry's room, Tony was curious about what made this little thing so special it was sitting alongside his family photo album. Without really thinking, he reached out to grab it–
"You don't want to touch that."
Tony spun around and found himself face-to-face with a shirtless Harry. With his jeans hanging off his hips, glasses half fogged up, and a towel in hand, trying to dry his messy hair, he simultaneously looked at least a year younger than his nearly fifteen years and far wiser than those. He also looked so much like James Potter in those pictures, Tony finally understood why no one ever doubted his paternity until Lily's letter surfaced; especially considering Harry was now closer in age to Potter when he died than to Tony's current thirty-eight. Back then, nobody had any reason to question it in England, and Tony had no reason to go searching for him, which left Harry slipping through the cracks and ending up in his aunt's abusive home. A fate Tony would spend the rest of his life trying to correct.
"Ooh, then you don't know me too well yet," Tony warned with a sly grin. "As soon as you say I shouldn't do something, it immediately makes me really want to do it."
"Alright," Harry challenged. He crossed his arms around his chest in a show of defiance that had Tony doing a double take, feeling as if he were staring through a window at his younger, slender, paler, and more British self. Unaware of Tony's momentary distraction, Harry jutted his chin toward the ball and said, "Go ahead."
Tony paused. "You know, if it's something legitimately dangerous, I really should know about it. I'll probably have to tell you that you can't have it."
Harry laughed, a sound that took Tony back to their afternoon shopping trip. He hadn't heard much of it since then and it filled him with hope that his efforts to get through Harry's hardening outer shell might actually work.
"Are you scared of it?"
"Absolutely not!" Tony stated, only half-feigning his insult. "I'm Iron Man."
He hung back for just a moment longer before lunging forward to grab the little thing. But as soon as his fingertips brushed against the icy metal, delicate thin wings popped out for the side, and it flitted about an inch above his hand. Tony examined the ball, confused about how it hovered with no wind or audible motor noises. Right as Tony was closing his hands around it, the little ball shot up into the air, leaving Tony's hand grasping at nothing.
"What the hell? Where'd it go?" Tony exclaimed. He looked all around Harry's room, but it was nowhere to be found. If not for the buzzing sound zipping by his ear every couple of seconds, he would have assumed it had somehow vanished.
Harry, however, had a very different reaction than Tony. While Tony's head aimlessly searched around the room, Harry's eyes locked onto something Tony couldn't see. His muscles tensed in time with his flickering eyes until he reached out above his head and, suddenly, the little ball appeared in his hand, almost out of thin air.
Impressed didn't even come close to describing Tony's feelings as he watched his son do whatever one called what he just did. "God, how did you get such good reflexes? I barely saw the damn thing… and you just… plucked it out of the air like it was nothing."
Settling into the palm of Harry's hand, the wings retracted into the sides, leaving it completely smooth with no evidence they were there at all. Harry returned it to a little box on the nightstand beside his glass of water.
"It's a practice tool," Harry finally told Tony, pulling a plain gray shirt on. "It's to help focus my attention, and yeah I guess it helps with reflexes."
Reflexes for what, Tony never got to go ask because Harry pointed towards the door, reminding Tony why he had been there to begin with.
"Someday," Tony said, placing his arm around the teen's shoulders on their way to the table following the aroma of their lasagna and garlic bread down the hall, "we'll let that thing loose in the training arena and see who can catch it faster, you, Clint, or Iron Man."
"What is it you're planning on releasing into the training area?" Pepper asked. She was already at the table as Tony and Harry rounded the corner, serving large portions of salad onto each plate. At least they were getting some vegetables with their takeout tonight.
Tony didn't give Harry a chance to answer, taking his seat as he explained to Pepper, "Harry, here, has this nifty little object that flew so fast it disappeared right in front of me. I literally couldn't see it, but you should've seen him, Pep… Harry's eyes locked right onto it and he just plucked it right out of the air."
"Wow! That's really cool, Harry."
Although Pepper said it in a more patronizing tone than Tony would have used given Harry's frigid exterior lately, Harry perked up at the compliment.
"Thanks," he replied, serving himself lasagna next to his little mound of salad before passing the tray to Tony and then taking a bite. "We use them at school… for fun, mostly. It's a good way to pass the time."
Well, if that wasn't something someone incarcerated would say, then Tony didn't know what was. Fortunately, he had enough sense to bite his tongue, figuratively and physically, before he said so out loud and ruined whatever camaraderie they had fallen into. Unfortunately, Tony had no way of knowing how quickly all of it was about to change.
"And Tony wanted to race this thing with you and Clint?" Pepper asked Harry in her best can-you-really-be-any-less-mature voice.
"No," Tony answered for Harry. "I want to race it between Harry, Clint, and Iron Man."
"That's cheating," Harry huffed. He pushed his salad around on his plate, avoiding eye contact as he made his accusation.
"How do you figure?"
Again like looking in a mirror, the glare Tony finally received nearly made him choke on the piece of garlic bread he'd just taken.
"You have thrusters. And trackers that can find it for you," Harry argued, rapidly. "Basically, all you have to do is tell JARVIS to lock onto it and he'll do the rest. I don't even have my…"
"Yes?" Tony urged when it seemed Harry wasn't going to finish his sentence. Between sounding as if Tony killed his best friend and the deep reddening in the kid's ears Tony really wanted to know what he was about to say.
"I–I can't fly."
"Pfft, neither can Clint," Tony aptly pointed out, missing the tension building in Harry's clenched jaw. "The name Hawkeye is strictly regarding his vision and attack accuracy. There are no wings involved. But for you," Tony winked quickly, "I'm sure I can make you fly someday."
"Tony!" Pepper half-admonished.
From there, the night went from halfway decent to downright terrible faster than Tony thought humanly possible. One minute it felt like they were on the verge of bonding and then the next Harry answered Pepper's question about how it worked with a sarcastic "by magic".
Pepper pretended to be unfazed by Harry's sudden shift of attitude. She asked if he was excited about the upcoming trip to Malibu or if he needed anything for it. Tony knew the answer long before Harry mumbled, 'I don't need anything' because Harry never needed anything. It was obvious his aunt and uncle had taught him to expect nothing, whether he needed or just wanted it. For the trip, Tony would either have to guess what Harry might need — like an extra set of swim trunks or two and sandals — or creatively find a way to slip Harry up to talk.
After a tense dinner, Harry jumped up to help Pepper with the dishes like he had done every night, except tonight they worked in complete silence. Harry usually sounded less guarded talking to Pepper, surely a result of him spending his first week mostly with her, but tonight he stood beside her with only the sound of the running water as he rinsed the sauce off the plates and the shuffling of ceramic coming from Pepper arranging them in the dishwasher. If she noticed Harry's cold shoulder — and Tony knew she did — she made no outward gesture of his silence bothering her.
Tony wasn't as patient as Pepper, and remembering the chess book in Harry's room, Tony invited the teen to a game the second he handed off the last dish before he could sneak away to his bedroom. He couldn't stand another day at home, bored out of his mind, so he counted on sneakily getting some information from him while they played together. If not, he might end up having to ask Natasha for help, and just thinking about him owing her a favor made his skin absolutely crawl. Not to mention, he could already picture Clint teasing him about it when she inevitably told him. He'd never hear the end of it… how Tony Stark needed a spy to extract information from his own kid.
Nope. Chess had to work. Except by the third move, Tony began to seriously question if the book he found in Harry's room actually belonged to him or was given to him as some kind of joke because unless his strategy depended on random chaos, the kid was terrible at chess… and Tony never claimed to be any good at it. Somehow, Tony stayed patient during the long pauses between his and Harry's moves, only offering him advice twice — one which Harry took, and the other he didn't acknowledge hearing at all.
A couple of frustrated grunts from the teen made Pepper glance up from her tablet, catching Tony's eye from the couch where she had been working until the detective in charge of the facility break-in called. Tony took a chance that Harry would abandon the rest of the night to excuse himself to speak with Pepper about the call in her office. They needed downstairs to review the official report, and although Tony never liked Pepper in the offices alone at night, ultimately he understood she had to be there.
The disruption ended up giving Tony the break he needed to start his own investigation when he returned to the chessboard. And with the photo album from Harry's room fresh in his mind, Tony knew exactly where to start–
"You know what was missing in the 'pacchetto di Harry Evans' your professor left with me?" He asked in what he hoped was a curious, and not accusatory, voice. Harry hummed in response, barely glancing up from scrutinizing the board. "Baby pictures."
That got Harry's attention fast, based on how his muscles instantly stiffened, leaving his hand floating precariously over one of his last two remaining pawns.
"Yeah, I don't have a single baby picture of my kid to put in my wallet," Tony continued, pretending not to notice Harry's odd reaction. "Do you have any idea how many board meetings I've sat through where I had to look at baby pictures in those little wallet plastic holders? I think I've more than earned my turn. Are you sure there isn't anything from Surrey we should get? I can fly out there and talk to your aunt and uncle–"
The prospect of speaking to Harry's relatives shook the kid out of his reverie. "Sorry to disappoint you, There aren't any pictures of me there," he practically spat out and slid his pawn up a space; a completely random move if Tony ever saw one. "I told you they didn't like me much."
Tony moved his knight to help protect his remaining Bishop. "Surely your mom and James had some. A new mom always has pictures."
"I'm sure they did," Harry muttered rather grudgingly. "They–" he sighed, releasing what sounded like a relieved breath, "-they left me a… storage unit… of sorts… with everything from the house after they died. I'm sure there's stuff there. I haven't… really had time to explore it."
"I can take you there sometime," Tony offered. "Wherever you're ready, of course."
"Sure, whatever."
Another uncomfortable silence enveloped them, with Harry and Tony taking turns to move. Tony got Harry's two pawns and Harry took the knight Tony fully expected to have to sacrifice.
Fed up at the lingering silence, Tony slid his bishop in place to eventually take Harry's rook, folded his arms on the table, and then said, "Listen, kid. We gotta stop doing this… whatever this even is. I need you to tell me what's going on."
Harry's head snapped up, a combination of betrayal and fear written all over his tired face. "Like what? I already told you about my aunt and uncle."
"Ok, then let's skip them for now," Tony tersely replied. "Let's start on the other end. Where have you been for the last four years? The school in Scotland has no record of you. In fact, I couldn't find anything on Harry Evans at all, and you didn't physically board any train at King's Cross Station in September–"
"Are you spying on me?"
"Technically spying implies being currently watched. I would call this research."
Harry scoffed and stood up from the table, once again crossing his arms in the same way Tony did when he was angry and hurt, and trying hard to keep himself together. "You don't trust me?"
Tony knew the question was a trap. He knew it, and yet he didn't stop himself from answering it honesty. "Can you blame me?"
"Thanks for that!"
Harry moved to leave, but to get to his bedroom he had to pass Tony, who in one swift move, stood and grabbed Harry's arm to stop him from going anywhere.
"C'mon, Harry, what do you expect?" He tried to reason. "A kid shows up here under suspicious circumstances–no lawyer, no social worker, just a creepy ass professor at a school who has no employment information on him–claiming to be mine from a woman I hardly remember? And you think I wouldn't want to verify the information on my own?"
"But the test–"
"Was absolutely correct. You're right! You are my son and, whether you like it or not, nothing is going to change that." His hands were moving as fast as he spoke, trying to convey his concern and worry to his son. "But I also think I have the right to know what I'm walking into. Especially if there are any issues or messes I might have to clean up…"
Harry scowled at the insinuation he made. "There's nothing you need to know."
"Nothing? Nothing at all?" Tony asked, giving Harry one more chance to fill in the blanks himself. He didn't move a muscle. "What about how you went by the name Harry Potter for most of your life, possibly all of your life? Because that's where I found your actual school records—the ones from St. Grogery's. I still can't find anything, under either name, from any boarding school in the UK."
"My aunt probably didn't know my name," Harry replied, a small waver to his quick words. "I told you she and my mum hated each other. They probably didn't talk much before they died and everyone thought James Potter was my father. It's not much of a stretch that she thought I was a Potter. She definitely wasn't making me a Dursley."
"How do you think she enrolled you in school?" Tony challenged, more than asked. He knew the answer, but he hoped Harry would get there himself.
"I–I don't…"
"She used the birth certificate that someone issued the day before you showed up on her doorstep under the name Harry Potter, not Harry Evans!" His voice raised with each word until he was yelling. "Then Harry Potter's records mysteriously end with your dear aunt's letter to Stonewall High dis-enrolling you and stating you'd be attending St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. C'mon, kid! I've turned my life upside down for you, I don't think I'm asking much for a little bit of honestly about where you were for the last four years!"
"Sorry I've been such an inconvenience to you! Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get your precious life back real soon!" Harry yelled back at him.
"Yeah, that's not how this parenting thing works with me," Tony retorted. "Although I'm beginning to understand why my old man celebrated the day he shipped me off to boarding school."
He hadn't meant to say it, not the way it came out, anyway. But as Tony knew all too well, he couldn't take back the words, and standing there, his face frozen as if the words physically slapped him, Tony knew Harry understood the meaning of them too.
"You don't have to take me, you know. Just say the word and I'll be gone," he growled — Tony almost preferred the yelling — and in full teenage fashion, stormed out down the hallway to his room, slamming the door behind him.
Like any other challenge Tony faced in his life, and driven by his own disappointment, Harry's blatant disrespect, and his still unanswered question, Tony acted impulsively and took off after his son. The problem was unlike those other challenges, there was no magic formula for extracting information from Harry… at least none he wanted to personally use… making the solution to his Palladium poisoning seem almost easier than talking to Harry. Even if the right formula miraculously came to him during the short trip from the living room to Harry's bedroom, it wouldn't have prepared him for the sound of Harry's crying echoing into the hallway from under the closed door. He froze, his hand unsteadily hovering above the doorknob, once again unsure of how to proceed.
Should he storm in there and demand respect? Or give Harry space? Or was standing outside and talking through the door a better compromise?
Tony tucked his shoulders up and slowly slid down the opposite wall, wishing Pepper was there. She would know what to do and what to say to make things right. She always knew what to do. Tony wasn't Pepper, and as much as he wanted to believe he wasn't Howard Stark either, he felt dangerously close to crossing the line he'd promised himself he'd never do.
Finally releasing a frustrated sigh, and feeling more unsteady than he had in years, Tony retreated towards the kitchen, fully intending on cleaning up the chessboard and strategizing his next real-life move. But as he passed by the front door, he realized that what he really needed was some space… a lot of fucking space to get his head back in the game.
"JARVIS, tell me if Harry leaves the Penthouse, and let Pepper know I went out for a bit," he snapped, barely hearing the AI's response as he rushed to the elevator.
He wanted to go down to his lab, to tinker away the stress building up in his body, and having limited himself to half-days gave him plenty of projects he could lose himself into. Regardless of what he wanted, though, his thumb continuously pressed itself onto the UP button mid-debate.
Guess I'm going to the gym instead.
After almost a minute of impatiently waiting for the elevator, he pounded his fist onto the UP button for the sixth, seventh, and eighth time, desperate to create a physical space between himself and Harry. It finally opened on the ninth hit, and in his haste to enter, he ran directly into Pepper, returning from meeting the investigator. She had obviously been the reason for the elevator delay.
"Tony!" She exclaimed, holding onto him as they both now exited the elevator and the doors closed behind them. "Are you alright? What happened? Where's Harry?"
"Harry's in his room. Actually, will you check on him for me? We kind of…" he shifted his weight awkwardly between his feet, "we… uh… we had an argument just now and I just… I can't be there. I'm going to go up to the gym for a bit, work off this extra energy I have pouring out of me."
"Yes, of course, I'll check in on him." She lightly grabbed his arm, giving him a slight squeeze and drawing all of his attention to her. "Do you need anything?"
He shook his head, not because she wouldn't give him good advice, but because he needed answers, and those he had to find himself. "How did things go with the detective?"
She waved off his concern. "We'll talk about it tomorrow. Nothing will get fixed tonight." She leaned in and planted a kiss on his cheeks. "Don't stay up all night, alright?"
"I'll try not to wake you coming to bed." He nodded, and with his fist pressed the UP button once again. This time the door opened right away, as the only other user of it stood in front of him.
The Avengers gym was on the floor with the theater, kitchen, library, and small lounge, and had all the bells and whistles one would expect from a superhero team. Each person had helped design his or her own preferred area. Steve liked to use the punching bags, and Tony had a recurring monthly order to replenish them at the rate the super-soldier damaged them. Clint and Natasha usually choose the hand-to-hand combat or the weapons practice arena on the floor above the combat arena, accessible via the glass stairway connecting the two venues. Bruce rarely visited the official gym, not that anyone would ever say so to him, and instead got his exercise swimming laps in the pool upstairs or on the indoor walking path around the top floor. Tony had built a similar path on the twentieth floor for SI employees, to keep the Avengers and SI work completely separate.
Tony's area?
After a quick visit to the locker room to change into the gym clothes he kept stored there, Tony headed straight to the weights. Despite how easy it might look to the casual observer, controlling his Iron Man suit took a lot more muscle strength than most people would think. The titanium alloy and his state-of-the-art hydraulics couldn't fully make up for the sheer weight of the mechanics and artillery — albeit limited compared to Rhodey's suit — he carried hidden within it, so while reducing the weight was a continuous priority for him, realistically he'd never get it to a level where he wouldn't need to be physically fit to wear it.
He was hardly ten minutes into his workout when thoughts of Harry's drama crept back in. The less Harry confided in Tony, the more probable it became that he would have to pay a visit to the family who had abused his son, despite Tony's best efforts to avoid making the trip across the pond. Unless, of course, Harry had run away and was now trying to hide from his aunt because either he was a juvenile delinquent — he never denied attending St. Brutus's —, she was part of some cult, or he just wanted to get away from her abusive nature. If any of those were the case, then Tony didn't want to reveal Harry's whereabouts to her by showing up. Even if the documents formally ending their guardianship were legal, she could cause him trouble. All Harry had to do was tell the truth and Tony would do whatever it took to help him. He'd make sure Harry never had to see the Dursleys again.
Still, none of his theories felt completely right, and he suspected he was missing one or two crucial pieces that would finally bring the puzzle together.
By the time he completed his weight rotations and walked to the treadmill to cool down, the convoluted thoughts about Harry made Tony's brain ache worse than when he arrived at the gym. He booted up the treadmill's screen and attached the specialized sensors designed to monitor his heart during all of his cardio workouts. Monitoring his heart during his workouts was the one piece of advice Tony took seriously from his doctor post-arc-reactor, so he programmed the treadmill not to start up unless he had the sensors attached. This way, the machine could react to his readings in real-time, like not speeding up, or even braking abruptly, if anything seemed off.
The screen in front of him not only showed him all of his health data while he ran, but it also provided him access to his servers to work. Needing a distraction from his family issues downstairs, Tony pulled up the police report on the upstate facility's break-in to search for any clues of who might have done it. Two sentences in, he noticed something concerning. Unlike the other break-ins, the culprit in this instance had actually gotten inside the building, meaning the vandalism covered the entire structure instead of just the outside walls. The security footage, too, was perplexing because, while having some of the best frame rates available, it showed no faces and, in one instance, a blur of a person rushing by.
The last page of the document held the inventory report, compiled by the facility manager, Mary-Ellen, listing all the items that were missing. As Pepper had mentioned earlier, most of the items were marketing materials — SI pens, notepads, mugs, and shirts — except for the stickers. The ones on this list were not his marketing "let's give these out to prospective clients or visiting school groups" stickers, but their official manufacturing labels primarily used on the product boxes. This further complicated matters, and he made a mental note to ask Pepper whether she notified the lawyers in case of any potential counterfeit claims. He had no doubt that whoever broke into the facility knew exactly what they were doing and hoped to disguise their prize by stealing other "innocuous" things.
A set of four consecutive loud beeps from the treadmill alerted Tony that his rising, off-beat heart rate triggered the automated slowdown. Good, he was about to slow down, anyway; probably wasn't the best idea to study police documents while running.
Just as she promised, Pepper was still awake when Tony walked into their bedroom a few hours after he had cowardly abandoned Harry, and she was still awake when he finally collapsed into bed after showering. They didn't talk about what happened that evening, whether Harry said anything to her, or what Tony discovered about the break-in. He just wrapped his arms around her, pulling her as close as he could. He let himself go, pouring all of his raw emotions into loving Pepper. For once, he just gave in to the sleep that was creeping up on him. He let his body, still naked and entwined with Pepper's, succumb to the blissful sleep, hoping it would mend his inner wounds and prepare him to face the trials that the next day would inevitably bring.
Deep asleep, he dreamed about Pepper… of their secluded lake house — they really should visit there more often — where they lived a simple life. No board meetings. No Avenging. Nothing besides the two of them, Harry, and their little girl. In his dream, he had just tucked his daughter into bed when an alarm went off around him.
Back in the Tower, Tony bolted up in bed at the sound of the perimeter alarm blaring from the ceiling and JARVIS informing him, "I've detected a breach in Master Harry's bedroom window."
Notes:
Horrible cliffhanger, I know. I usually don't like to leave ones like this because I hate when I read them but I'm not sure if I'll be able to squeeze the next chapter out before I go out of town soon. Just know that the next several chapters are already written so it should be pretty quick to update once I'm back.
Chapter 15: Sleeping on a Bed of Lies
Notes:
I post this chapter with a few remarks:
1. I'm still struggling with Harry's POV so it took me a little longer to edit than I had hoped and I'm not completely sure it's where I want it to be but the best it's going to get at this point
2. This chapter is Harry's side of the night, which starts just a touch backwards. I try to swap POVs seamlessly in the timeline but sometimes I need to go back a bit.
3. Given how many Hedwig guesses I received after the last chapter this could either get an awesome reaction or a really bad one. Please be gentle in the comments, my dumpster fire of life right now just (figuratively) burst up in flames again.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
When Harry slammed his bedroom door behind him, he had every intention of packing his belongings — only the things he had brought with him from Privet Drive and nothing Tony had given to him — and use his invisibility cloak to sneak out of what was probably the most secure building in the city. He knew it had been a huge mistake to come to the Tower, and New York for that matter. Had he taken a second to logically think about the plan when Snape had first told it to him, he would have told Snape where to shove the idea and gone out on his own. At least Surry would have been familiar to him. He could have taken care of himself there.
But no. As soon as he'd heard that James Potter wasn't his real father and that his real dad was still alive, Harry had wanted to travel around the world to see him. He wanted to believe the man could keep him — and by extension, everyone else — safe. Harry had only himself to blame for this mess and had only one remaining option left: disappear and hope he could survive the crowded streets of New York. It had to work. If not, Tony, Pepper, Sirius, and all his friends would become collateral damage… just like Cedric.
Kill the spare!
Although the idea sounded great in his head, it failed before it started because he never made it inside his closet to get his backpack. In a race to beat whatever monitoring Tony had on the Tower, Harry's hand slipped as he pulled the closet's door knob, sending him face-first into the closed door. The pain in his forehead, and embarrassment from it, brought back all of his anger from the night. Instead of simply trying to open it again, as any sensible person would do, he allowed his emotions to take control and kicked his desk chair repeatedly until his foot went numb.
When he finally felt absolutely empty inside, and a little childish, he collapsed to a heap on the floor, leaning against the wall. Sitting there in a room not quite his own — belonging to the father who, in some sick twist of irony, was actually trying to get to know him — Harry laid his forehead on his bent knees.
He took a few deep breaths trying his best to stay strong, just like he had during his awful childhood and every summer after Hogwarts. But despite his efforts, tears rolled down his cheeks, finally letting go of all the bottled-up emotions he had been keeping inside of him. What began as a few sniffles quickly turned into overwhelming sobs as he poured out his grief. He missed the parents who had died for him — the ones he still felt were truly his parents in his heart — and Sirius, and his friends. He ached at the memory of Cedric's death, haunting him and keeping him awake more nights than he cared to admit. On top of that, he carried the weight of guilt about his role in Voldemort's return. No matter what anyone said to him, if it weren't for that night, none of this would have happened… If Harry hadn't taken the cup in the maze, Voldemort wouldn't be a threat at all. If he hadn't grabbed that cup, he'd be hanging out with Ron and Hermione at the Burrow, enjoying the rest of the summer by degnoming the garden and playing pickup games of quidditch with Fred, George, and Ginny.
Harry sat on the floor, hugging his legs to his chest, for what felt like hours. Twice, Pepper knocked on his door checking in to see if he was okay or if he needed anything. Even though she seemed unsure about his "m'fine" answer, she thankfully didn't ask to come in. Harry didn't know how he'd face her if she had. Tony had made it crystal clear how much they had changed their lives around for him. They welcomed him into their home, and how did he show his gratitude? By lying straight to Tony's face… and apparently doing a bloody terrible job at it too.
What a great son he was turning out to be.
When all his emotions were spent, his tears long dried, and he was as physically exhausted as he felt mentally, Harry dragged himself off the floor and flopped onto his bed, not even bothering to change into his pajamas or brush his teeth. As his eyes fluttered closed, he couldn't help but think about Tony and Pepper, and how much he wanted to share his world with them. If only he knew everyone would be safe, life with them might actually be perfect.
Suddenly, a loud crack from somewhere outside his window made Harry spring out of bed in a frantic panic. The crack sounded oddly familiar, and something inside of him warned him to be wary of it, maybe even get as far away as possible, but still half-asleep, standing in the dark bedroom — when did I turn off the lights? — he couldn't remember where he'd heard the sound before, or why he should be afraid of it.
When a second, louder crack sounded, way closer to this window this time, Harry nervously moved over and looked outside. His heart pounded harder than in any quidditch game he could remember. At first, nothing looked out of place. The sky was as clear as it could get in the city, no storm clouds were in sight, and down below, the streets were the same mess of red and white from the almost comically tiny cars filling the streets. Harry turned around, ready to crawl back into bed while muttering that he was getting as paranoid as Mad-Eye Moody's reputation when a bright orange light on the other side of the window came flying directly at him. He had no time to react before it slammed into the window with a loud smack, startling Harry and sending him tumbling backward onto his bed.
What the bloody hell was that?!
His mind screamed for him to leave immediately — that light was too close to a curse for his liking — but instead of rushing out the door, he sat frozen on his bed watching as a series of orange lights began pounding against the glass. Bolts of lights collided with the window, one after another, leaving spider web cracks covering the entire pane. Harry had barely covered his head before the window inevitably burst into what seemed like a million pieces, enveloping him and his bed in shards of glass.
Crisp, icy air flooded into the room through the now open wall where his window had once been, jolting Harry out of shock and into action. He leaped out of bed again, this time going to the door to get as far away from whoever broke into his bedroom as possible. Except as he reached for the doorknob, it vanished before his eyes, leaving him unable to escape — just like how his earlier plan to run away ended. His hands scoured the door in a desperate search for the missing knob, but they came to a halt when a horrific, evil yet familiar laugh echoed all around him, confirming his equally horrifying reality: Voldemort had found him. Pushing through his rising panic, Harry mustered up the last of his Gryffindor courage to turn around. The lights flashed back on all on their own, and Harry found himself standing face to face with Voldemort and the same group of Death Eaters he had seen in the Graveyard.
"Harry Potter," Voldemort gleefully stated. "Going so soon? We have only just begun."
Before Harry could blink, a thick pair of ropes wrapped around his body binding his arms behind him and bringing his handles so close that they touched. Although his arms tingled from how tightly the ropes were tied and he swore he couldn't feel his feet anymore, somehow Harry remained upright, standing directly in front of Voldemort. With a hideous, malicious grin, Voldemort levitated Harry, dropping him uncomfortably close to the ledge now leading outside. Harry screamed in pain as his right ankle twisted at an unnatural angle as he fell, not that anyone in his current company cared.
"It's a good thing I didn't kill you at the graveyard after all," Voldemort taunted, jabbing the tip of his wand into Harry's chest. "We aren't anywhere near done with you yet."
The masked Death Eaters surrounded Harry and Voldemort, making any escape impossible. Pettigrew stepped forward and conjured a splintery wooden table and a massive cauldron opposite Harry. An uncontrollable chill ran down Harry's spine.
With spots of dried blood and thick leather shackles that Harry knew he'd be strapped into, it looked like something right out of a torture chamber.
I have to find a way out of here!
Voldemort waved his ivory wand, and the table stood up and the strap's buckles unfastened. Harry twisted and turned, trying to get a part of himself free to grab his wand in the bedside table's drawer. But as he continued to move, the rope gradually tightened and before he was anywhere near free, his body became rigid. Now unable to move a muscle, the ropes unceremoniously dropped to the floor and Voldemort levitated him onto the table, fastening the buckles on his wrists and ankles so securely that Harry felt blood trickle down his hands.
"I should leave you Petrified," Voldemort threatened, "but then I'd lose the joy of hearing you scream. And I will make you scream, Harry Potter."
Harry did scream. As soon as Voldemort released the Petrificus spell, Harry screamed at the top of his lungs, "Tony! Tony, help!"
In what felt like the blink of an eye, Tony appeared, one of his hands covered by his Iron Man gauntlet and the door broke at his feet. Pepper stepped in after him, treading carefully across the shattered wood, showing no signs of pain in her bare feet. Harry blinked again, and Tony and Pepper were Petrified on the floor.
"Let us play, shall we?" Voldemort sauntered up to Tony and Pepper, his wand pointed at Pepper's chest. "Blood of thy mother… close enough. Diffindo!"
A flick of Voldemort's pale wrist sent a pink line racing to Pepper, landing on her collarbone. He slowly dragged his wand down her chest to her bellybutton, flaying her open right there in front of everyone. Harry pulled against the binding, bruises and cuts forming underneath the raw leather, desperate to get to her. His struggles were in vain, though. In seconds, Pepper was gone and tears poured down Harry's cheeks.
"Now for the bone of thy father," Voldemort announced, walking in his bare feet up to Tony. Another Diffindo, pointed at Tony's shoulder, and removed it from his body. One by one, Voldemort swiped his wand at Tony's other arm and both his legs before taking one last swipe across the neck. And just like Pepper, Tony was gone.
Voldemort snapped his fingers, sending the waiting Death Eaters, who Harry had almost forgotten about until now, onto the bodies. They filled up phials upon phials of Pepper's blood and broke apart Tony's arms and legs to fit into the giant cauldron sitting on Harry's bed.
"Don't touch them!" Harry yelled, or he tried to but his throat was so raw from screaming it came out as a small croak. "Leave them alone!"
"Harry!"
"I said leave them alone!" The young wizard cried again. "Please, it's me you want…"
"Harry, get up! Everything's ok…"
"What's that?" Harry asked. He could have sworn he heard Tony's voice saying his name. "What's going on?"
"Harry! Wake up!" Tony's scared voice rang throughout the air. "You're having a nightmare!"
With a gasp, Harry bolted upright, his forehead missing Tony's by a hair.
"Harry!" Tony said again. Tony gently took Harry's left hand and placed it on his chest; right beside the blue glowing spot of his arc reactor. "Take slow breaths, ok? Focus on your hand… in and out… good job, just like that."
As his breathing synchronized with Tony's, the fuzzy feeling inside of his head faded and the surrounding room became clearer; a strange feeling since he rarely fell asleep in his glasses. Although the lights were now dimmed, Harry could see Tony sitting halfway on the left side of the bed, with his leg tucked beneath him, and Pepper standing off to the side behind him, both looking equally terrified. In contrast to Harry wearing his clothes from dinner, both of the adults were in pajamas — Pepper's a flowery shirt, solid blue shorts, and slippers, and Tony in a pair of black gym shorts under a gray T-shirt. Obviously, he had woken them up at whatever ungodly hour of the morning it was.
"Harry… Harry, kid, look at me," Tony instructed. Harry listened, and the pit in his stomach grew at the deep worry he saw in Tony's hazel eyes. "You're alright, Harry. I think you were having a nightmare."
"A nightmare?"
An icy breeze hit the right side of Harry's face, making him turn towards the shattered window. Unlike in his nightmare, only a moderate area closest to his bed was missing. Dread filled him up. If he had a nightmare, his magic had likely caused the hole.
"We'll figure out what happened later, honey," Pepper said reassuringly, following his gaze to the window. She handed him a tall glass of water. "We need to make sure you're not hurt, first."
"M' fine," Harry lied. He was so far from fine, he couldn't even see it. He stared down at the glass in his hand. "I-I have nightmares sometimes. It's not a big deal."
"I wouldn't exactly call what I walked into 'not a big deal', kiddo," Tony said. "You were in a full-blown night terror. And the window… let's just say they should be unbreakable… So when JARVIS said there was a breach, and you were screaming, I fully expected…"
He trailed off, clearly as shaken as Harry.
The other side of his bed dipped down as Pepper sandwiched Harry between the two adults. Never in his life had he had this much attention from adults and it made him extremely uncomfortable.
"Are you hurt anywhere?" Pepper asked. Searching for some kind of injury, Pepper lightly touched his arm in several places. Harry half expected her to find bruises on his wrists from him pulling at the cuffs holding him to the table or cuts on the back of his arms from the rough table. But, of course, nothing was there. That had only been in his nightmare.
"No, I don't think so," Harry replied, attempting to resist the urge to pull his arm away. He'd seen Mrs. Weasley would do this to Ron and Aunt Petunia to Dudley — although in a much more dramatic way. It's what mum's… or at least caring adults… did for kids. "It was just a dream. A really, really bad dream. I promise."
"There's no glass here," Tony abruptly stated, searching around the floor and the top of Harry's bedspread. "Nothing around you, either. How about your side, Pepper? Any glass?"
"No," she answered, just as confused by his train of thought as Harry. "Why–"
"If the window broke open," Tony rushed to the window to examine it, "then where did shards of glass go? JARVIS?"
"I am detecting objects on the ledge outside of Master Harry's window."
Tony craned his head carefully out of the window, shining a flashlight Harry hadn't noticed before at the small cement ledge right outside. "Huh," he said. "So the glass blew out? Not in?"
Understanding the meaning of his findings, Harry swallowed hard. "I swear I didn't do anything to the window."
"I know."
Harry frowned. "You do?"
"Pretty sure… yeah," Tony said with a chuckle. "These windows won't break if you throw something at them. I'll have to pull the sensor data to see what caused the failure though. No one got in, and that's all that matters right now."
Tony continued to study the window, muttering numbers to himself and plans for a temporary repair, which by the sound of it, was something he planned for Iron Man to do. Pepper scurried Harry to his bathroom with explicit instructions to check for any glass, emphasizing that just because the glass blew out didn't mean none of it was sucked inward during whatever event had caused it. Harry knew he wouldn't find anything. Besides not feeling any physical injuries — being fully awake now — his accidental magic would have made sure not to harm him. His magic never harmed him, and if anything the window blowing out was probably a reaction from his magic to protect him from the Voldemort of his nightmare.
What about MACUSA? Harry thought. A tremor ran through his right as the panicked thought of the Magical Government of America hit Harry midway through brushing his teeth. Was he supposed to have registered when he arrived in New York? Could they detect his magic here? He didn't even know if they tracked magic here, and if so, how. Maybe he should contact Snape in the morning? Would Snape consider an exploding window an emergency worth contacting him over? He really should have gotten a more defined set of rules about contacting him or Sirius.
He took his time washing his face and changing into the fresh set of pajamas Pepper had handed him on his way into the bathroom, so by the time he returned to his room Pepper was gone and Tony was securing a metal sheet over the missing window pane using some kind of heat from his Iron Man gauntlet to secure it in place. Where Tony had gotten the materials or how he had gotten them in, Harry wasn't sure he cared to know; probably some scrap metal from his workshop or something.
"It's not pretty, but it'll hold," Tony announced, jumping off the chair and placing his gauntlet down on it before meeting Harry at his bed. He took the spot Pepper had sat in earlier. "Once I download all the sensor data from the outside wall, I'll call my contractor to get it fixed. I doubt they have this specific glass in stock, meaning you might be stuck with the ugly metal for a few days."
"I don't mind." Harry shrugged. At least it was better than bars, or the implication of those bars. "Where's Pepper?"
Tony peered towards the closed door. "I sent her off to grab a few more hours of sleep. I hope that's alright. She had a hell of a day yesterday and I doubt today is looking any better for her."
Harry checked his watch — almost four in the morning. How long had he been asleep, stuck in that awful nightmare? Watching Voldemort kill and dismember two of his only family left somehow felt like it took an eternity and a matter of minutes.
"Do you think you'll be able to get back to sleep?" The question caught Harry so off-guard he didn't know how to answer it, and taking his silence as his answer, Tony offered, "If not we can go do something to help get your mind off of things. I told you I like to tinker if I can't sleep. What do you like to do?"
That was a good question. What did Harry do on the nights he couldn't sleep? At the Dursleys, he'd write his friends a letter. Here, he had mostly sat up and read. He got the feeling Tony wanted to go do something, so Harry suggested the one activity he enjoyed and knew would keep his mind and hands busy, "We can make breakfast for Pepper."
Tony puffed out his cheeks, and Harry saw the wheels in his head turning. "Breakfast? I love breakfast and it'll give Pepper a good start to her day." He nodded his head towards the hallway, "Let's do it."
They decided on scrambled eggs, breakfast potatoes, sausage patties, banana pancakes — Tony told him they couldn't do the strawberry banana Harry had originally suggested since Pepper was allergic to strawberries — and blueberry scones. Despite Tony's insistence on making Harry home-cooked meals, they still mostly ordered takeaway from Tony's favorite restaurants or from the SI cafeteria, leaving the kitchen with only four eggs, a half container of flour, salt, sugar, bananas, and blueberries. Not enough to cover even half of the times on Tony's list. Harry was about to give up, tell Tony they'd do something later, and then go sit in bed until Tony asked JARVIS to create a shopping list using the Avengers' common kitchen as the primary source and the SI cafeteria pantry as the secondary source. Between the two, they found the rest of the ingredients needed, plus the field trip gave Harry a cool behind-the-scenes look at parts of the Tower he hadn't seen yet.
"You realize that the SI kitchens will be open by the time we finish all this, and they could make it for us, right?" Tony jokingly asked as he set out the newly collected ingredients beside the bowls Harry already had ready on the counter for their 'prep stations'; one area each for pancakes, scones, and eggs. The sausage and potatoes didn't need any prepping, so they'd go from their packages to their pans.
"But it's not as fun when someone else makes it," Harry aptly pointed out. "Besides, I hate to brag, but I've been told that I make the best scones in Surrey. At least according to the ladies in Aunt Petunia's book club."
Not that his aunt relayed any of the compliments Harry had overheard from his cupboard to him. Harry wasn't about to share that part with Tony though.
"All of Surrey, huh?" Tony clasped his hand onto Harry's shoulder. "Well, now I have to have them."
With a smile, Harry separated the ingredients Tony brought into their respective stations and measured the flour for the scone before handing the measuring scoop to Tony, instructing him to do the same for the pancakes. Using JARVIS, Harry recorded the instructions for the pancake recipe he'd learned to make when he was only seven. The steps were straightforward enough for Tony to follow that Harry hoped it'd give him some encouragement in the hobby Harry enjoyed.
"What would you do if you didn't have all this? Like if you were forced to start over?" Harry asked. He had meant it to be a lighthearted question, simply asking Tony how he would eat if he didn't have people to do it for him or seemingly unlimited wealth to buy takeaway every day.
Tony, probably rightly so, interrupted them differently.
"Is that what you think this is? That there's some magic wall separating your life 'before New York' and after?" He asked firmly. Harry didn't tell him how close he was to Harry's reality. Again, Tony took his lack of answer as his answer. A hand on Harry's forearm made him meet Tony's gaze. "That's not it all, kid. Trust me, if there's anything from England you need… or want… you just say the word. I want you to be comfortable here. You mentioned friends from school, right? Well, they can visit anytime. I can send a plane to pick them up tomorrow if it'd help you."
As tempting as the offer was — he wanted to see Ron and Hermione so badly — he needed to keep everyone safe and to do that, he needed to stay hidden. They all needed to believe he'd run away on his own.
Harry shook his head, for Tony and himself. "It's complicated."
"Then uncomplicated it for me."
Harry didn't answer him. How could he without earning him the wrath of Snape?
"First, I'd be a mechanic," Tony eventually said, his rough voice sounding loud in the quiet kitchen. "If I woke up tomorrow and had to start all over… if I didn't have someone forty floors down to make me breakfast every day, or a multi-million dollar company and a team of superheroes to help run… I'd be a mechanic."
"A mechanic? Like work in a grease shop fixing cars?"
"That's the one," Tony stated as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a man with a closet full of Armani suits to do. "While the media loves to focus on my genius engineering side, at my core, I love to fix things. Cars, motorcycles, if it has a motor I'll work on it. Plus, it'd be a simpler life–no board meetings, no shareholders, and no one else to answer to. Just me, Pepper to actually run the shop, and whatever I want to work on.
"Does it mean I'd give up all of this tomorrow for my own shop and more autonomy? Hell no, because I can fix bigger problems in this position. All the philanthropy I do isn't just for the tax breaks. Don't get me wrong, it's a nice perk. Ultimately, though, I sleep better at night knowing I'm helping someone less fortunate. Pepper says it's my guilt talking, and she's probably right. The way I see it, the people benefitting from my donations and shit don't care about that side of the equation."
Harry thought hard about what Tony said, mentally adding "fixing things" to the list of ways they were alike. Just like Tony, Harry was giving up what he loved — magic, his friends, and possibly Hogwarts if Snape didn't figure this whole situation out by September — to protect the greater good; even if he didn't really know how, or why, he fit into Voldemort's plans when he was a baby or now.
"To answer your actual question," Tony went on, "my mother was a fantastic cook. If I didn't have the Stark Legacy to fall back on, I'm sure I would have learned to cook from her. I'm not saying I'd be anywhere near her level, but I like to think she could teach me to make more than grilled cheese. Hell, that's probably where you get your affinity for culinary arts from."
Harry had never thought about his love for cooking being part of his family history. He'd always assumed it was because he'd been forced to do it from a young age. That he could have a quality from a relative, a link so to say, to his paternal line, warmed him more than he'd ever admit to anyone. Sure, had his mother's vibrant green eyes and his father's messy hair, but those were just features of Harry. They weren't part of who he was, as a person.
Deep in thought about Harry's place in his father's family tree, they fell into comfortable silence, more so than any others since he moved in, while they worked on their respective breakfast dishes. Harry poured his bowl of wet ingredients into the bowl of dry and focused on mixing the dough. Tossing a few handfuls of flour onto the countertop he dumped the dough onto it, all the while feeling Tony's watchful eye over his shoulder. His hands went to work almost on their own, kneading the dough, and adding flour as he felt necessary until he had perfectly sized balls laid out on a baking sheet ready for the oven.
"Ok, Harry, here's the deal," Tony declared solemnly, his rough voice sounding oddly loud in the quiet kitchen. He faced Harry, a serious look up his face that Harry hadn't seen on him yet; somewhere between concerned and cautious. "I care about you–"
"You didn't know I existed until two weeks ago," Harry replied, half jokingly and half seriously.
Tony's head jerked back as if Harry had hit him. A hot flush crept up Harry's face; he hadn't meant for it to come out so harshly, but he didn't take it back either. Blood didn't automatically mean you were required to like someone. His aunt and uncle had known him for years and they despised him.
"So, what?" Tony retorted, folding his flour-coated arms over his chest. "You're my son… we both agreed on that much last night… and I can tell something's going on. We can start with you haven't gotten a decent night's sleep in weeks–"
"So you are spying on me."
Tony's hands raised in defeat. At least he didn't deny it. "I'm trying to help you. But I can't do that if I don't know what's going on. And if you don't let me in, then I'm forced to find creative ways to get the information."
Harry prepped the griddle on the stove and immediately took over ladling the pancake batter onto the hot griddle to give himself something to do during what was bound to be a tough conversation. Because he knew he had to give the man something or else he would never move on.
Thankfully, Tony seemed to understand and didn't stop him.
"A f-friend died at the end of the school year last year. Sometimes I dream about it," Harry admitted. Voldemort might be off limits, but Cedric's death wasn't as long as he changed the circumstances behind it.
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Tony run his hand down his face and muttered a curse under his hand. "Clearly, I went about asking this the wrong way last night, and I am truly sorry about that, but I need you to be honest with me here. Were you away at some institution… maybe juvie, or whatever the British equivalent of it is, o-or rehab–"
"No!" Harry exclaimed, dropping the spatula as he turned. "Why would you–"
"The bruises, the scars." In one smooth move, Tony reached for Harry's forearm and revealed the long scar from Pettigrew's knife above the circular one from the Basilisk fang. Harry yanked his arms out of Tony's light grasp and pulled his sleeves down. With a raised eyebrow, Tony challenged Harry to dispute his claim and when Harry remained silent, he went on, "A kid died at your school… tragic enough to give you nightmares like the one I walked into tonight. Let's face it. You have half of my genes and if I didn't have my father as a father I probably would have been in jail or rehab at your age. So if you don't tell me anything then I have to make my own assumptions and, frankly, it's not looking promising. You gotta give me something here. Anything, please."
"I wasn't locked away in some institution, I promise," Harry said, although he wished he sounded more sure of himself.
"Ok." Tony nodded. "And your friend? What happened there? Most kids don't die at private boarding schools."
Images of Cedric's dead body sprawled on the grassy ground flashed in front of Harry's eyes. He closed them, hoping to push the images away, only they didn't disappear. Of course they wouldn't, his mind was making them and it wasn't ready to let Cedric go, or to ease any of the deep-seated guilt of Harry's role in Cedric's death.
"He… Cedric, my friend's name was Cedric. He died in an accident of sorts." Harry ignored his wavering voice because saying Cedric's name out loud, for the first time since leaving school — since the nightmares started — opened the floodgates inside of him and he actually wanted to tell Tony about it, or as much as he safely could tell. "We had this… competition… between our houses at school. More like a dare, or series of dares, really. The last one… it came down to me versus Cedric. We were… climbing… the wall outside of the school, up into the girls' dormitory window."
Tony scoffed, and Harry let him think what he wanted about the made-up accident. The details didn't matter in the long run, anyway.
"We were neck and neck reaching the end and Cedric… he slipped." Swallowing hard, and staring out at the rising sun, Harry continued slowly, in a trance-like state making up the best substitute possible off the top of his head. "Cedric was two years older than me, so his fumbling gave me the perfect chance to get ahead of him. I thought about it too… leaving him hanging there however high above the ground we were, I would have won. I ended up shuffling down to help him."
Tony slowly removed the spatula Harry had been holding in his right hand and only then did Harry notice the tremble running through it. The trembling lessened when he squeezed his fist but didn't stop completely. It wouldn't stop until Harry finished his half-true story.
"W-we reached the t-top together," the teen stuttered, "and he told me to go in first. I guess it made sense because if I hadn't gone back for him, I would have gotten there first. B–but I, erm, I ended up climbing too far to the side of the window to get a good grasp of the ledge, so I told him to go and I'd race him when I got in. The ledge, though… as soon as he put all of his weight onto it, it crumbled and he fell. One minute we were talking about what a crazy event it was and next… he was gone… and I killed him."
"Whoa, kid, hold it there. You didn't push him, right?" Harry shook his head no, even if he still blamed himself for urging Cedric to take the cup… to take the ledge. "You didn't force him into this competition, right? To take the dare?" Another shake of his head. "Ok, then, you did nothing to him. This boy–Cedric–was older than you, he knew the risk of climbing the outside of a building. For the record, it's not the brightest idea for either of you… unsupervised teenage boys really don't make the best decisions… but you didn't push him or coerce him to climb it. This isn't on you."
"It should have been me," Harry argued, getting louder as he spoke. "I got to the ledge first, so I should have been the one on it. He'd still be alive if I hadn't told him to go first."
"Shit," Tony whispered and then mumbled something under his breath about survivor's guilt and Rogers being right. He released a loud exhale and surprised Harry by asking, "So, what about the scars on your arms?"
"Uh." Frowning, Harry lifted his sleeves again. He pointed to the Basilisk scar. "This one is from a snake bite. It was kind of my fault. I went after it. The other one I got when Cedric died."
"Do you mean you got it from climbing down the wall?"
"Yeah," Harry nodded too quickly, averting his gaze anywhere besides Tony's, "from the wall."
"It healed fast." Tony's finger trailed down the long scar. Harry couldn't feel the touch of his fingertips following the same path as the dagger had a month ago. Another permanent change in him from the night. "Thank you for telling me the truth. Watching a classmate–a friend–die is a traumatic event without being involved. That your school did nothing… you know what, forget it. Now that I know what's going on, there are things we can do to at least curb the nightmares."
"Thanks," Harry said, as guilt swelled up inside of him at the genuine relief in Tony's words. He truly believed Harry had poured out his demons when, in reality, he'd hardly scratched the surface, and what he had told the man had been a complete lie; aside from Cedric dying and Harry's active role in it.
The beeping of the scone timer reset the atmosphere in the kitchen by reminding them they hadn't finished making breakfast yet. Harry didn't argue when Tony insisted on trying a scone while they were warm and fresh, and the smile from Tony's moan of approval motivated him all the way through the rest of the cooking.
Pepper woke up right as Harry took the last sausage out of the pan and Tony finished setting the table. Opposite to the pajamas she wore a few hours ago in Harry's bedroom, Pepper was dressed in the same outfit she wore the first day Harry arrived at the Tower, and she carried herself just as tall and confident as she had then. Much to Tony's feigned chagrin, she complimented Harry on the amazing breakfast; a bit of an exaggeration if anyone asked Harry, but after years of preparing breakfast for his ungrateful relatives, he basked in the praise.
Sitting between Tony and Pepper at the table eating breakfast felt so normal, like he was actually part of a family. Tony told Pepper he planned on having a slow morning, prompting Pepper to reschedule two meetings, and he invited Harry to the lab for the afternoon. Although Harry felt overwhelmed next to his father in his element, specifically whenever he was building something, he agreed. Tony must have felt similarly while they were cooking breakfast, yet besides his comment about getting food from the SI kitchen, he didn't complain once. In fact, he actively listened to Harry walk him through making pancakes — how to measure the dry versus wet ingredients, the benefits of lumpy batter, and adding the banana chunks on the flip instead of at the start — as if Harry's instructions held the meaning of life.
He was trying to get to know me.
The thought of Tony — someone best known for his boisterous, strong, and selfish personality — stepping so far outside of his comfort zone almost made Harry forget the nightmare and lying to Tony about Cedric's death.
"Sir," JARVIS interrupted Tony's explanation of the latest communication system he was working on for the team, "Director Fury is requesting access to your floor."
"Tell him he can go fu–"
"Tony!" Pepper scolded, shifting her eyes between Harry and Tony.
"Fine," Tony pouted and took a slow sip of his coffee intentionally delaying his response to JARVIS. "Tell him… Tell him to meet me in the briefing room upstairs. Tell him to get comfortable, too, I'm feeling a little sluggish this morning."
Suddenly, the door to the corridor swung open.
"No need to get yourself fancied up for me, Stark." A man looking scarily like Mad-Eye Moody, from his black leather coat and boots to his eye patch, stomped into the kitchen. Grabbing a scone from the plate on the breakfast bar, he took a bite and said, "Now isn't this the most domestic scene I've ever seen. Never took you for a family man, Stark, yet here you are. And if I hadn't seen it with my own eye, I'm not sure I'd believe it."
"You are a few floors short from where the vermin stay," Tony snapped, casually standing to place himself between Harry and the new Mystery Man. "What happened to requesting access? Clearly, someone needs to get you a dictionary. How did you get up here? Actually, scratch that, I don't care, you just need to leave. I'll meet you upstairs when my official office hours begin, which today is–" he pretended to examine his watch, "–sometime between one and four. Why are you here? Cap already sent you the boring details of the wasted mission in Morocco."
The man, Harry assumed the Director Fury guy JARVIS mentioned, completely ignored Tony in favor of leaning around him to nod his head at Harry as he casually made Harry's world come crashing down in a single sentence, "You know? If I squint, I can sort of see why you chose not to notify us about your offspring appearing out of nowhere–as if we didn't already know–but I kind of thought having the Wizarding Jesus as a son might at least trigger an email."
Notes:
Here we go! There's no hiding it now.
After all the guesses of it being Hedwig at the window, you have no idea how badly I wanted to add her in. Hedwig is a hard character to keep up with (like remembering Harry's glasses despite me wearing glasses my whole life) and I really don't like the idea of me forgetting to have Harry feed her or him accidentally keeping her locked up, so we won't see her until near the end of the story.
Chapter 16: Do You Believe in Magic?
Notes:
This chapter was planned out in my head from the moment I decided to write this story. I hope it lives up to the expectations because I loved writing it!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
"Did he just call you Jesus?!" Tony exclaimed, then swung around to face Harry. "Why did he call you Jesus? How the hell does Fury know a single thing about you?"
Tony must have heard Fury wrong; no other explanation made sense. Otherwise, he'd have to admit how a reference to Jesus led nowhere good. Suddenly, images of cult members bowing to his kid, or worse Harry being sacrificed, forced their way into his head. Had someone tried to sacrifice the son he'd only recently discovered? Were there people out there looking for him, itching to finish the job? Over Tony's dead body.
"Really, Stark? That's the part you focused on?" Fury taunted him. "Jesus?"
"Stop calling me that!" Harry spat, running his hands nervously through his mop of dark hair. "I am not Jesus!"
Fury let out a sarcastic laugh, and Tony wished he had his gauntlet to blast the asshole out of his kitchen. How dare the man burst into his home and put his kid through whatever mental breakdown Harry looked to be having over this information. Despite how badly Tony wanted to hear it, knowing deep in his gut that it was the last piece of the Harry Evans-Potter puzzle, it killed him to see Harry in such emotional pain.
"The Savior of your people who came back to life?" Fury took two lumbering steps toward Harry. "Sounds a lot like Jesus to me."
"I knew it was a cult," Tony muttered as his mind raced at a million miles per hour. Getting away from a cult was difficult, and if they — whomever they were — looked at the fourteen-year-old as their Savior, it'd be damn near impossible to stop them. But Tony had nearly infinite resources at his disposal and he damn well planned to use anything necessary to keep his son out of their reach.
"I didn't come back to life!" Harry yelled back, his voice now the loudest Tony had ever heard it before it fell again. "I just didn't die… there's a difference."
If Tony were wearing the treadmill monitors, he was certain they'd show his heart skipping several beats while he struggled to rationalize Harry's words… on top of the fact that he'd said them to Fury, of all people. For two damn weeks, Tony had been working to get the kid to open up to him, then Fury strolled right in, knew exactly which buttons to push, and poof… less than two minutes later he learned his kid either pulled a resurrection — implying he died at some point in this story — or had been in a position to almost die. Neither option was good and neither of which Tony knew anything about.
"What about being used to resurrect the dark wizard who plans to eliminate all no-majs?"
"T-that part is true," Harry replied so quietly, Tony wasn't sure he'd said it out loud until Fury condescendingly nodded, the silent 'I told you so' expression meant for Tony. "It wasn't my fault, though! I t-tried to get away. I swear!"
Head spinning, and torn between grilling the super-spy who barged into their home with a clear agenda that should have gone through Tony first, demanding Harry tell him what the fuck was going on, or just leaving for his lab to help calm the tightening in his chest, Tony paced. Pacing wouldn't help his chest at all, but it'd help his brain process the information that had, almost literally, been thrown at it. To their credit, no one bothered him as he sorted through what he'd heard: wizard, Jesus, gnome-maj… whatever the hell that meant.
At last, he paused and looked around the room, his expression changing from scowl to soft as soon as he laid eyes on Harry. With a paler complexion than usual, even for a Brit, two heavy dark circles under his eyes, and perspiration forming on his forehead, Harry looked far worse than Tony felt. Not wanting to be the one to send Harry over the edge, especially considering he seemed to be one bad move away from permanently disappearing from Tony's life, Tony pulled up a chair close enough to Harry's that their knees were touching, effectively blocking Harry's line of sight to Fury.
Clearing his throat to ensure he sounded more stable than he felt inside, Tony asked, "What is he talking about, Harry? No more lies or half-truths, ok? So don't say it's nothing because, for one, I have ears and heard a lot of new shit thrown around. For two, the very large man who broke into our house obviously knows whatever it is you're trying to hide, anyway. So if you think you're going to get out of this without him saying anything, you are absolutely wrong. And if you don't tell me, I guarantee you he will.
"But most importantly," Tony let out a shaky breath, proud of himself for keeping his composure so far, "it sounds like whatever you're hiding is as dangerous as it is important. Like I've said from day one, I want to help but I can't help you if I don't know what I'm up against… what you're up against. Because whatever it is… a cult, your relatives, those majie things, a wizard… I'll do whatever I need to do to keep you safe."
No one moved while they waited with bated breath for Harry to decide what he was going to do, and Tony continued to stare into those bright green eyes — Lily's eyes that he hated himself for forgetting throughout the years — practically willing the kid to say something. But Harry remained silent, unwilling, or unable if a cult was actually involved, to speak. A tapping behind him reminded them of Fury's presence. Tony tried not to let it affect him, he wanted to give Harry as much time as he needed, however at some point Fury would grow impatient and the last thing Tony wanted was to leave his son in the Director's grasp.
"I'm going to go out on a limb here… are you enhanced?" Tony offered in a low, calm voice. It was the only conclusion that made any semblance of sense. "That's the wizard part of the 'wizarding Jesus' comment, isn't it?"
"Enhanced?" Harry asked, his brows knitted together in confusion. "What exactly does that mean?"
"Someone with special abilities. Like Steve Rogers," Pepper said, from behind Tony. She had a deep sympathy laced in her voice, like she couldn't imagine a kid going through what Rogers or Banner did, and not for the first time Tony appreciated her help. If anyone could get the kid to talk, it'd be Pepper. "Did someone, or something, enhance you?" She softly asked. "It's alright if the answer is yes, we won't think any differently of you. We just need to know how to help you with it."
Harry shook his head, although to Tony he seemed to be trying to convince himself more than any of the adults watching his every move, or lack thereof. When he looked up again, Fury had approached them without Tony realizing it.
"No," Fury began, no longer waiting for Harry to spill the beans, "it's nothing like Rog–"
"Don't," Harry pleaded, bravely interrupting the man. "I-I'll tell you everything. Can you just give me a minute? I need to make a quick call to someone."
"Yes," Tony firmly answered for Fury. He refused to hold Harry hostage in his own home, which was exactly what it sounded like Fury wanted to do. Plus, he fully planned on tapping into the hallway speakers and having JARVIS listen in. So once he heard Harry's door close, Tony pulled out his phone and said, "JARVIS, amplify the hallway microphone to reach into Harry's room. Transcribe everything you can to my phone. If you can hear the other person on the line and Harry hasn't identified him or her, use Caller Two as the identifier."
At his command, his screen darkened, and lines of white text appeared across it. Harry hadn't made the call yet. Instead, he was debating with himself out loud on who to call, Snape — the professor Tony regrettably would never forget — or someone named Serious. Tony assumed the name had to either be a misunderstanding from JARVIS listening through the door, or an error caused by Harry's accent, because who in their right mind named their kid Serious; not that the name Severus Snape was any better. Whoever he was, Harry was clearly trying to justify calling the Serious guy because he thought Snape would 'skin him alive for calling'.
Who the fuck threatens to skin a student alive?
It took a few more pros and cons thrown around, and a long pause where Tony could almost see Harry holding his new cellphone in his hands while debating which numbers to push, before Harry decided that, verbatim, "Serious probably wouldn't be much help here."
As soon as the word "Snape" popped up on his screen, Tony settled into his chair, finally ready to get to the juicy stuff. Except nothing else followed. He waited a full minute, just in case Harry had mis-dialed, but still, nothing came up on his screen. A quick mental calculation confirmed that it was, in fact, evening in London, the place Harry likely called, and yet Harry neither left a message, called the Serious guy or anyone else, nor abandoned the idea altogether to return to the living room.
"Stark?" Fury warned. His heavy footsteps got louder as he came up to Tony from behind. "What's going on?"
Whipping around, Tony raised his hand at Fury, stopping him in track. "Let's be clear here. The only reason you're still here is because you intimidate Harry, and I'm using that to my advantage. The moment you cross a line, I will not hesitate to blast you out that door!"
The two men stared off at each other for a moment longer than Tony wanted to keep his attention off his phone and only when Tony felt comfortable he'd gotten his message through he mumbled to JARVIS, "Gimme something here, Jay. There's nothing on the transcript. Did he go to the bathroom or something?"
"Master Harry is talking to the professor." Definitely not what he expected to hear. Before he could ask the next obvious question, the AI added, "The transcription is failing."
"Connect the audio through my phone."
"An error of unknown origin occurred." JARVIS sounded as confused about the situation as Tony. "All outgoing functions around Master Harry's room have been disabled."
Fuck.
Without a word to Fury or Pepper, Tony darted down the hall. The click-clacking of Pepper's heels following him slowed before Tony reached Harry's bedroom and he heard her stern voice talking to Fury. Good. She could handle Fury's bullshit and keep him at bay while Tony figured out what was going on.
Of course, of all the things Tony had mentally prepared himself for, walking in on Harry talking to a small, square mirror he was holding tightly in his hands with the vampire's angry face reflected back, wouldn't have made the top thousand — and Tony flew a nuclear warhead through a wormhole into space a year ago. Instinctively, Tony slammed the door behind him, locked it, and leaned against it for extra security and support.
"That… is not… your cellphone," he stammered like an idiot. "What… uh… what is it? I mean. I can see it's a mirror but how is Dracula's ugly face talking to you through it?"
Harry's obvious panic at seeing Tony burst into his bedroom vanished with the insults hurled at the professor and replaced with a smile. Given their chaotic morning, Tony considered it a win, albeit a small one.
"It's… a long story." Harry exhaled in defeat. "Just… give me five minutes? I promise I'll meet you in the living room and answer every question you have."
"You bet your ass you will," Tony snapped, regretting it immediately.. His aggression wouldn't get him anywhere, no matter how badly he wanted it to. "You get two minutes and the door stays open."
Unsurprisingly, Pepper met him as he crossed the threshold of the living room.
"Is Harry okay?" She asked, concerned. Peeking over her shoulder at Fury watching them from the breakfast bar, she scowled. "I almost had to call security. Not sure how much longer he'll wait."
"God, can this day get any worse?" Tony sighed. "You know what, don't answer that."
"I wasn't going to."
Wrapping his arm around Pepper's waist, Tony led them past Fury on their way to the living room — not so much as glancing at the man in the process — and deposited them both on the couch.
"I gave him two minutes to talk with his professor," Tony said directly to Pepper, although loud enough for Fury to hear. "He was, uh, video chatting with him when I walked in…" he hesitated, briefly debating on how to deliver the next part. Then, figuring it didn't matter much, he said "...using a mirror."
"Did you say a mirror?" Pepper asked in disbelief. Her forehead crinkled in concern; for his sanity or Harry's, Tony wasn't sure.
"Yeah," Tony replied, unfazed by her reaction. After all, if the roles were reversed he wouldn't have believed it either. It was the definition of a 'see it to believe it' situation. "I know it sounds crazy—"
A loud cracking noise from the direction of Harry's room had Tony up on his feet in an instant.
"What was–" he asked until Fury cut him off.
"Speak of the devil," the director stated, nodding to the hallway where Harry came into view with the professor — who had not been in Harry's room — trailing behind him.
"What the hell is this?" Tony yelled, no longer even trying to keep himself calm. "You were in London… the security breach alone…it's impossible… how did you…"
"He apparated," Fury offered, in a far too casual way, for the shit going on, almost like he were telling Tony the score of the last baseball game.
"Appa, what?"
Looking at Harry Fury said, "As your biological parent, you know he's allowed to know, right? I'm sure it would have saved you a lot of grief this past week or so." He didn't wait for Harry's answer before gesturing to the couch. "You all should sit down for this."
Tony wanted to refuse, both on the principle of being ordered in his own damn home — one that obviously had several security holes to plug — and that he hated sitting still with a ball of nervous energy building inside of him. He hated it during long briefings and board meetings, and even interviews saw him finding some odd reason or another to wander the stage. Like a shark, Tony Stark had to stay moving to survive. Nevertheless, Harry led the Professor to the far end of the sofa so Tony and Pepper followed suit, sitting on the opposite end and leaving Fury to stand in the center.
"There is a small subset of the population where magic exists," Fury started, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. While his words — specifically magic — sent an icy chill throughout Tony's body, it was nothing compared to what followed. "Your son is a wizard. A rather famous one too. In fact, he's as famous in his world as you are in this one."
For the first time in his adult life, Tony listened in total silence — not once interrupting to ask a question or give some witty comment — as Fury and the Evil Professor took turns telling him all about a hidden community of magical beings and how SHIELD created a small, equally hidden, division within them when the magical community began targeting the non-magical people during a war that ended shortly after Harry was born.
Unfortunately for Harry, though, the concept of magic users wasn't an unfamiliar concept for Tony, and the mere thought of Loki triggered a twitch in his eye. Now he had a son with magic… who was magical, since as he understood it someone was born with magic rather than acquiring it. As much as Tony wanted to be cool with the situation, in reality, it terrified him to his core. Having seen the path of destruction Loki caused, the thought of the things Harry could do — the things someone evil would do — scared him. To help balance his increasing fear, Tony focused on how this new knowledge filled in many of the blanks Tony had been searching for in these last two weeks. Tony hated having unsolved problems and a secret world meant secret records, records Tony eventually planned to unearth using any means possible.
Harry remained quiet throughout the entire explanation. His gaze remained firmly locked on his feet while the other two men spoke until they reached the parts about the war. At the first mention of the war, the teen became physically uncomfortable; shifting his weight between his sides and picking at his nail bed, almost as if he'd been personally involved in it. Tony was just about to scoff at the notion when the professor told them how Harry Potter, a toddler child who did not know what the hell was even going on around him, somehow defeated the leader of the war against the non-magicals, earning the title of–
"Wizarding Jesus," Tony supplied, seeing exactly where the story was headed, and feeling physically sick from it. A kid hailed a hero because he didn't die? Then he got dropped off at relatives his mother never spoke with? Tony was already not a fan of these people.
"Actually, no," Fury corrected him. "I called him the Wizarding Jesus. He became known as The-Boy-Who-Lived."
Harry physically flinched at the moniker.
"As if that's any better," Tony grumbled, massaging his temples.
"Sorry if this is a stupid question, or you were eventually going to get there, but why are you here now?" Pepper asked Fury. "I mean, Harry's lived here for two weeks and no one seemed to care."
"That was the plan," Snape muttered.
Pepper ignored him. "Did something happen recently? O-or is Harry in danger?"
"Yes," Fury and Snape answered together. Tony suspected they were answering separate questions, and he didn't particularly like that both of them were yes.
"Usually," Fury jumped in to tell his side first, "the magical division of SHIELD works deep in the shadows. As long as the wizards stay on their side, we stay on ours. It's why they didn't step in to help with the Chitauri attack and why we aren't getting involved in their war.
"However, I received a concerned call from the Magical Congress of the United States this morning notifying me of a disturbance of the magical variety in the Tower. You see, Thor's hammer emits a similar signature as a Wizard's everyday magic, so the Tower is exempt from any continuous monitoring. But whatever happened here reached a Loki-esque level. They asked me to check it out–to make sure we had no unexpected visitors. Imagine my surprise walking in and seeing the Savior of the British Wizarding World, who went missing two weeks ago, having breakfast with Iron Man."
"Hold up! Did you say he's missing?!" Tony's head whipped over to Harry. Whether or not the kid liked it, the time had come for him to come clean. No more secrets. "You specifically told me you did not run away!"
"It's complicated," Harry retorted.
"That excuse isn't cutting anymore. Uncomplicate it for me."
Harry glanced up at the professor, now standing behind the couch with his arms tightly crossed over his chest. The man gave a subtle nod of his head; the permission Harry had been waiting for.
"Ok. So technically I ran away because my aunt and uncle didn't know I was leaving. You have to believe me, though, it was the only way," Harry's voice cracked and Pepper got up to hand him his glass of orange juice from the table.
"Why don't you start from the beginning," Pepper suggested.
Harry passed the glass between his hands before taking a tentative sip.
"I guess I was born Harry Evans, but until a few weeks ago I thought I was only Harry Potter…"
If Fury's story of the hidden wizarding community and civil war blew Tony's mind away, Harry's life story was almost flat-out unbelievable. Including things like giants, a magical castle, and soul-sucking demons, Tony's heart sank further and further into the couch as his kid's life went from bad (living with his unloving and neglectful family) to worse (a deadly tournament with his friend's death and Harry resurrecting the dark wizard who killed Lily and James), and somehow even worse with Harry learning of Tony's existence and choosing to hide from the dark wizard who planned to use him in some other awful ritual. The whole thing felt like a fever dream, except whenever Tony pinched himself it hurt and he remained planted on the sofa.
When Harry finally finished, the room fell into an odd, somber silence. Tony struggled to keep his raging emotions in check. If he understood at least half of it correctly, his son was essentially being used as a tool for both sides of a war he literally had nothing to do with. As far as Tony was concerned, he needed to keep him from the entire community. He was midway through a list of remote islands to buy — why the fuck didn't he own an island already?! — so they could chill on a beach while the wizards figured their shit out, when the professor finally broke the silence… going somewhere Tony was not prepared for.
"I should have known you'd blow this whole thing in a matter of days," the professor snapped. "I don't know why I dared to expect so much from you."
Faster than Tony had seen him move, Harry was out of his seat, prepared to stand his ground, face-to-face against the other wizard. "I can't help it if I did accidental magic in my sleep!"
"You are a fifth year!" Snape shouted, entering a yelling match he'd instigated. "No fifth-year wizard of any decent caliber still has accidental magic incidents. I'm willing to bet even pathetic little Longbottom doesn't."
Tony didn't have to understand a word of what the professor said to know he had insulted Harry; the teen lunging at him more than showed it.
"Whoa, back up there Merlin," Tony said to Snape as he physically separated Harry and the professor. Obviously, the whole 'please take care of my dead friend's son' had been some sort of facade and they both literally hated each other. "Someone care to tell me what accidental magic is?"
He expected the professor to walk him through it like he had with the magical history, but Harry spoke up first, "It's magic that's done unintentionally." He shot a glare at the professor which made Tony proud. "Usually by kids before they learn how to control their magic, but it can happen during any large emotional event."
Ah. Things were becoming much clearer now.
"Like a nightmare?" Tony offered, and Harry confirmed his suspicion with a slow nod. Feeling he had enough of a handle on things, Tony took Harry's place to confront Snape — the only adult in the room who had enough information to have actually helped Harry. "So you're telling me you expected a not yet fully trained, traumatized–because, just so we're clear, that's what happens when a child is forced to confront and fight against his parents' murderer right after watching his friend get killed in front of him–wizard not to have slip ups? Hey, that's on you buddy, not Harry.
"You know what could have prevented this?" Tony rhetorically asked in a low, threatening voice. "Telling me the truth when you dropped Harry off here like a sack of groceries! Imagine how difficult these last few weeks had to be on him? He sees all that shit at school, a place he's supposed to feel safe and protected, then he learns he has a father still alive on the other side of the world, and… oh yeah… the madman he faced is now trying to kidnap him for God knows what heinous purpose so he needs to hide! He has to completely upend his life, not talk to his friends or new family about it all, and pretend everything is hunky-dory. Oh, and not do any accidental magic in the process."
"We couldn't tell you," Harry blurted out.
"And why the hell not?"
Fury let out a humorless chuckle. "The magical community has strict rules on who can and who can't know about magic. As I mentioned before, parents are exempt from it."
"Told you. Like a cult." Tony lifted his hands in feigned celebration.
"No!" Harry and Snape replied at the same time Fury said, "Yeah, kind of."
For the next ten minutes, they bickered back and forth, alliances changing depending on the current topic. Tony and Fury teamed up against Harry and Snape about the derogatory terms used for non-magical people — no-maj was the word Fury had used, although Harry said they're called Muggles in the UK. Both sounded equally degrading to Tony. Then Tony sided with Harry in trying to convince Snape to let Harry contact his friends again. Fury agreed with Snape forbidding Harry from using magic even though the tower wasn't being closely monitored. Harry tried saying he needed to practice over the summer; a solid attempt on the kid's part that Tony would have outright supported until then Snape corrected him about the official 'no magic outside of school' policy, then Tony just figured they'd have to do it with no one knowing. Pepper took no one's side in any of it, and midway through kindly excused herself from the mess to deal with the fallout from yesterday's break-ins.
They ended this part of the discussion with Snape explaining a mind-reading magic called Legilimency. It sounded too close to Loki's magic for Tony's liking but he finally, albeit grudgingly, understood why Snape and Harry's Godfather, Sirius — a marginally better name, having come from the constellation — had chosen to literally hide Harry away in the non-magical world and not tell Tony anything. According to Snape, the evil, highly prejudiced, maniac wizard was one of the best at this mind-reading magic and he would literally tear apart all of wizarding Britain to find Harry. Since the professor was supposedly the best at protecting his mind, having him be the one to hide Harry in a place the evil bastard wouldn't think to look was the ultimate way to protect Harry.
But just because it made sense didn't mean Tony had to like it.
"Ok, so let me make sure I understand the most relevant part of all of this," Tony said, snapping his fingers as he spoke. "Harry, who is a young wizard, needs protection from a very bad wizard trying to kill him?"
"An oversimplification if I've ever heard one," Snape scoffed.
"Yeah." Harry shot another glare at his professor. "That's basically it."
"Done." Tony pretended to wipe his hands clean as if it were that easy of a task. When had Tony turned down a hard project? Never. "Now that that's solved, what's next? Deciding on a school, maybe, because after all the stories I've heard of giant killer snakes, imposter werewolf teachers, and poltergeists, I'm not sold on sending you to this Hogwarts place. Pretty sure I can do better protecting you with my eyes closed, right here."
A snort from the professor's direction had them all glaring his way. It took all of Tony's willpower not to send his fist through the man's crooked-tooth, sinister grin. "I see I was right about your arrogance coming from your father, despite having the wrong father."
"Oh, I'm not even close to done with you yet," Tony spat out at the other man. Without realizing he'd moved, they were face-to-face with Tony's finger pressed into his chest with his next words, "It takes a very special sort of asshole to just leave a vulnerable teenager in need of protection without disclosing the situation to the person who can actually protect him! Were you hoping he'd get attacked here? Was it all part of your grand plan?"
Harry pulled at Tony's arm, separating him from the professor in the same fashion Tony had done for him earlier.
"I hate to say it but Snape has a point," Harry said with a grimace. "Magic… I-it doesn't mix well with technology. Or at all, really–"
"Guess that explains JARVIS' issue in your bedroom."
"–And Vold– You-Know-Who–" Tony rolled his eyes at the ridiculous nickname Harry used, "–is the most powerful wizard alive right now."
"So?"
"Your tech can't stop him."
"Harry." Tony gently placed his hand on Harry's shoulder, removing the distraction of Fury and Snape away from the teen. "You will learn quickly that can't is not part of my vocabulary. As long as I know all the variables, I will find a way."
"What about Loki?"
Harry had unknowingly hit Tony's one weakness regarding magic. As much as he'd love to never encounter another magical being in his life, that ship sailed when he unknowingly had personal relations with a witch over fifteen years ago. So Tony refused to let his anxiety about the situation show. He didn't want Harry to doubt him and he refused to let his kid down in the first month. He had years ahead of him for that.
"We beat Loki," Tony pointed out.
"You had to fly a nuke into space."
"Semantics," Tony flippantly stated, then turned his tone more serious. "That was with no time to study or prepare for Loki's attack. If you give me the rundown of your magic–books I can read, places we can work and practice, the whole shebang–trust me, I'll take him and his army of clowns down. I'll keep you safe here, I promise."
"Alright," Harry eventually conceded, although he didn't sound at all convinced. Tony would just have to show him how much he could fix if given the right motivation. And, despite only knowing his kid existed for two weeks, he was more motivated than ever before.
Fury, of all people, brought up a magical district in New York where Tony could find the resources he'd need to start his planning. Snape aptly pointed out how being a muggle, Tony couldn't actually access the district and Harry immediately offered to take him. That started yet another argument about Harry needing to stay out of the public's eye, and who else could help Tony. Harry mentioned some kind of juice to help hide his identity, which was the moment Tony stopped listening. It was all too much to take in. After the early wake-up call, making breakfast, and the revelations he'd learned, Tony figured he'd let them sort out the details — where and how he got the materials he needed didn't matter to him — and snuck into Pepper's office to clear his head. Unlike Tony, who couldn't deny how he'd constantly be in his lab if it were literally next to their bedroom, Pepper seldomly worked at her home office; preferring to do any of her late-night work on her tablet or laptop in the living room, or going downstairs to her actual office rather than hide away here. She mostly used this office to take international conference calls at odd hours of the night and to store her books and other files she was currently working on.
Tony passed by the tall bookcase lining the right and left walls and scooted around the sleek white desk holding her computer and a few files on the properties they were vetting to pilot the new Arc Reactor sustainable energy program — a program still in its infancy requiring both his and Pepper's hand holding — until he stopped in front of the floor to ceiling windows. With his forearms folded against the glass, he leaned forward, resting his forehead on top of them, and peered straight down the side of the building.
In moments like this, Tony missed Malibu. He missed the vast openness and calm quiet the ocean provided to help him make some sense out of the chaotic mess of thoughts in his head. With the wide-scale launch of their sustainable energy project Pepper needed to be in New York, and the Avengers and Peter were in New York. Tony had poured himself into the repairs to the Tower, expanding the tech for the team, and mentoring Peter as a new superhero, using them as the perfect distractions from dealing with the Battle of New York, where he had been forced to come to terms with his own mortality and was introduced to aliens and Gods and magic; all things impossible to rationalize in his science-driven brain.
The distractions had worked, at least for a little while.
He had just about felt grounded and normal again when Harry showed up. And although Pepper… and Rhodey… and Steve — not that his opinion mattered — thought he hadn't been taking the whole "parenting a teen" thing well, he thought he had been doing alright. He'd be the first to admit he never wanted to be a father. He never wanted to risk becoming Howard or passing down the generational trauma to an innocent kid. But once he learned about Harry, he stepped up to the plate, at least in the best way he knew how, and took responsibility for the kid. For his kid. Now… learning about the magical world of Earth, and how his kid played into it all, seemed to dig up a bunch of emotions Tony had worked hard to bury.
"Tony?"
Tony spun around, ready to bury Fury in insults for entering the very private room. Thankfully, for once he had enough sense not to say the first thing that came to his mind because Fury wasn't the one standing halfway into the room already. It was Harry, looking every bit of nearly fifteen he tried his best not to seem.
"Sorry if I interrupted," Harry went on before giving Tony a chance to answer. He reminded Tony of Peter in that way. "That Fury guy got a call, so Professor Snape left. Then I was just standing there and Fury gave me a look that clearly said I'd regret it if I didn't bugger off out of listening range. JARVIS said you were in here. I hope it's alright I came to find you."
Tony hummed his response and gestured to Pepper's empty seat chair behind her desk. Harry shook his head, turning down the silent offer, and met Tony at the window. The duo stood side-by-side, pretending to take in the New York atmosphere, for what felt like minutes, but was probably closer to only one.
Harry finally broke the silence. "He fixed the window, by the way." His eyes remained on the horizon as he spoke, not once turning to Tony's face. "Professor Snape, I mean. He repaired it before he left, seeing as they don't really track magic here."
Of course, the other man fixed it. If Tony learned nothing else in the last six hours, he learned how easily magic could crumble his world; such as breaking apart an unbreakable window and entering an impenetrable Tower like it was a public library. Therefore, fixing a structure almost a hundred stories in the air with a wiggle of a nose… or a wave of a wand in this case… felt totally reasonable.
Tony didn't say any of that out loud. He couldn't unless he wanted to push Harry away, so he simply nodded and absentmindedly ran his finger around the edge of his arc reactor as he continued to watch the world outside, wishing he could go back to yesterday. Maybe if he had tried harder to get through to Harry, he wouldn't have had the nightmare and the awful morning wouldn't have occurred.
"So, you're a wizard. That's…" he trailed off, unsure of the proper word to use for a moment like this.
"You know?" Harry whispered beside Tony. "You're taking this really well, considering."
That got a small laugh from Tony, breaking some of the forming ice between them.
"Glad you think so, kid, because I'm actually freaking out inside right now."
He'd meant it as a joke, but the way Harry stiffened and his eyes widened with fear told him he didn't see it as one.
"Relax! It was an ill-timed, semi-serious, joke. What did you expect? For me to pull a Quasimodo and expect you to stay in the bell tower?" He wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulder, hoping the move would ease his kid. Except the teen didn't relax, and it suddenly dawned on him. Harry's relatives hated magic, so his abuse… As a literal genius, he really should have connected the dots much sooner.
"That's why they abused you."
"I wasn't abused," Harry quickly refuted.
"We already talked about that, remember?" Tony rhetorically asked. He lightly gripped Harry's shoulders and turned to face him. "Neglect is abuse."
Harry shrugged. "Semantics."
Tony let the comment slide. "Choice of wording aside, did they treat you… negatively… because of your magic?"
Harry nodded. Now they were getting somewhere.
"Did they physically hurt you?"
Another shrug. Tony resisted the powerful urge to push for a solid yes or no answer. He already knew he'd hate it.
"Is there anything else I need to know about them?" He asked, instead.
"Like what?"
"Oh, I don't know…" Tony waved his hand, pretending he didn't already know the example he planned to use. "Say like… locking you in your bedroom."
His suspicion was confirmed as soon as Harry's cheeks flushed bright red. Those bastards had actually locked his kid up for something he had zero control over. It'd be like Tony hiding him away for having green eyes. Sure, perhaps he had done something similar by keeping Harry in the Tower these past two weeks, however that felt different. It was for Harry's personal safety, not Tony's embarrassment of him, and would, hopefully, be temporary. Or whenever they figured out how to keep him away from this new wizarding threat.
"They locked you in your room, got it." Tony curtly commented, trying to sound as casual about it as possible. "And they…"
He trailed off hoping Harry would pick it up and fill in more of the blanks; both for Tony's knowledge and Harry's benefit of getting it off his chest. Likely not the most mentally sound path to take, but when was Tony known as a mentally sound person?
Tony repeated, "And they..." with greater intensity when the teen failed to reply.
"They made me do all the chores," Harry finally spit out almost in a single breath. "I had to do everything. It's where I learned to cook. I actually enjoyed that part and it's become like a hobby, especially when I don't have the Dursleys breathing over my shoulder doing it. I wasn't allowed to eat a lot, either. And my room…"
Tony watched with intrigue as Harry paused, clenching his jaw in the same way Tony did in difficult situations, and waited for him to collect himself. Just when he was about to open the window, preferring the distant sound of the city to Harry's nervous breathing, the teen spoke.
"And yeah, they put bars on my window one summer," he admitted with a hint of embarrassment in his voice. "At least, I had a window by then. It was loads better than the cupboard I used to sleep in."
"What did you say?!" Tony's head snapped up. His vision filled with images of a small boy living in a linen closet, covered by blankets, and his nostrils flared trying to keep his emotions in check. No kid, especially his kid, deserved to sleep in a cabinet, regardless of what they did. "They put you in a cupboard?!"
"It was under the stairs," Harry quickly added, as if that somehow made it better. "It's not a big deal."
"It's not a big–" Tony pinched his eyes closed and focused on his breathing — in, hold, out — to prevent him from grabbing his suit and flying all the way to Surrey. Once semi-in-control of his rage, he peered down at Harry. "It is a big deal. It's an enormous deal and one I'll be taking care of from here. Is this why you've basically locked yourself in your room while I've been home? You know what–" He held his hand up to stop Harry from answering, "-don't answer that. I think I can confidently assume you'd say no, and you'd be lying."
"You know what they say when you assume."
A small smile tugged at the edge of Tony's lips, simultaneously wanting to laugh at how alike they were and admonish Harry for making light of a serious situation. Tony lucked out, he wouldn't have to choose which reaction to use because the door burst open revealing a pissed-off-looking Fury standing at the threshold.
"As much as I hate to break up this little getting-to-know-you moment, I was actually on my way here for an entirely different reason when MACUSA called," the director said, sauntering into Pepper's private office, not looking at all regretful for interrupting them. He looked right at Tony. "It's time to suit up. Captain Rogers will brief you on the Quinjet."
"Now?!" Tony exclaimed. Whatever needed his attention — and Tony had a few educated guesses — it seriously could not have come at a worse time. He tilted his head toward Harry. "Can't you see I'm a little busy? Isn't paternity leave a thing now? You and Hill better get on that. If you need a place to start, SI has one of the leading paternity policies in the country. I'm sure Pep can walk you through it."
Fury didn't take the bait, not that Tony expected the man to.
"I understand it may be a new concept to you, Stark, but the world does not, in fact, revolve around you," he said. "Nor does it stop for family matters and this requires your immediate attention."
Notes:
I know it might seem like we're moving on from this topic quickly, but I promise it ties into the overall plot. Tony needs to be in a more fragile mental state, with Harry top of mind, as we move into the next few chapters. Harry and Tony have another heart-to-heart (or as much as either of them can) in the next chapter before Tony is shipped off on his mission.
Also, Chapter 17 won't be posted for another 2-3 weeks because Chapter 18 is not done yet. I got some serious writer's block writing the action sequence in the first draft, so I skipped it. Now I have to finish it and that needs to be done before the end of Chapter 17 can be posted just in case any subtle changes need to be made. If I get that done quicker than expected, then I'll post sooner - just giving myself some extra time one it.
Chapter 17: From Bad to Worse
Notes:
This starts in Harry's POV and then changes to Tony's. I try to limit one POV per chapter but sometimes I have to change it up.
Even though chapter 18 isn't done yet, it's far enough along to release this one out. Thank you everyone for your comments/kudos! I'm going through a rough time in my real life right now and they truly mean so much.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
"You told me you were done with all of this!"
"No, I what believe I said was—"
"Emergencies only… so what happened?"
"Uh… this is an emergency?"
"Are you asking me or telling me, Tony? Because I can't tell which one."
For an entire hour — starting when Tony didn't immediately kick him out after Fury said "your son is a wizard" until Fury interrupted them in Pepper's office with his Official Superhero Business — Harry thought his luck was finally changing. Tony had sounded confident, possibly arrogantly so, that he could keep Harry safe from Voldemort, and aside from the sheer panic on his face in those first few minutes after Fury mentioned magic being real, he seemed open to not only living with a wizard, but his son being one. And, of course, watching Tony put Snape and the no-maj version of Moody in their places, something no one adult had ever truly done for him, had Harry feeling on top of the world.
Then Pepper came home in a fiery rush searching for Tony. She found him in their bedroom, where he'd been getting ready after Fury left him with strict orders to "have his shit together and on the jet by the time Barton arrived". They'd been in there for the last half hour, mostly arguing about Tony going wherever Fury wanted to send him, as Harry cleaned up the breakfast dishes. Was he eavesdropping by slowly washing each bowl, plate, and fork by hand instead of rinsing and loading them into the dishwasher? Absolutely. In his defense, though, adults rarely told him the whole truth about potentially dangerous situations and after having to take care of himself most of his life, he liked to know what was going on.
So far, Tony and Pepper's heated discussion had been mostly about Tony's alleged promise to Pepper that he would retire from Iron Man missions; something that, based on the small waver in Tony's voice, Tony either didn't recall doing or now regretted promising. Harry suspected the latter.
He had just finished drying the last plate when he heard his name in Pepper's next question —
"And what about Harry?"
Harry softly crept, with bated breath, until he was standing at the entrance of the corridor leading to their bedroom, waiting to hear how he fit into his father's life plans; if his luck in the family department had, indeed, taken a positive turn.
"What about him?!" Tony asked, the sudden change of direction clearly confusing him as much as it had to Harry. "Like Fury oh-so-helpfully pointed out, bad guys don't pause for newly reunited families! And reading between the lines, here, I got the feeling they found more than just a lingering signature at this place and—
"He's only fourteen, Tony, and I leave for Baltimore tonight," Pepper said, her voice rising at the end, hoping Tony would pick up her point. He didn't, and with a frustrated sigh Harry could hear clear through the door she added, "This is literally a foreign country to him, do you really think it's a good idea to leave him here alone?"
The momentary lapse on Tony's side of the argument told Harry that Tony hadn't thought about someone having to stay with him. Harry couldn't blame him. He wasn't exactly used to keeping track of a kid at home. But fourteen wasn't four, and Harry wanted to bust in there and tell them about the weeks he'd stayed home alone, at a much younger age, when the Dursleys went on vacation without him and Mrs. Figg wasn't available to babysit. However, something told him Tony wouldn't appreciate hearing it. He'd been all over the Dursleys' treatment of him, and while the sentiment was nice, it was also too late. Harry stopped waiting for someone to rescue him after the second report of his bruises in primary school went unnoticed. If the school nurse couldn't rescue him, no one would.
"Shit…" Tony eventually said. "That's right… you're going for the… uh…"
"Negotiations on the—"
"Hopkins' trials... Got it." Another hard sigh from Tony. Harry grimaced, his cheeks burning at the mess he had caused them by simply existing. "Listen, I'm doing my best to balance everything here, alright. I even canceled Pete—"
"JARVIS, silence the master bedroom."
Harry startled at the voice from behind him, and all the sound from the bedroom suddenly stopped; like it had been broadcasting on a speaker and someone unplugged the speaker. Harry sheepishly turned to see James Rhodes standing by the kitchen.
"Eavesdropping is a bad habit kid," he said, tilting his head for Harry to move away from the bedroom door.
When had he gotten that close to it?
"Erm…" Harry nervously said as he slowly approached the Colonel. "I, uh, didn't realize JARVIS could do that."
The excuse sounded lame as soon as he said it, but he let it stand. Who would honestly blame him for wanting insight into his new father's feelings about him living there?
Rhodey pulled out a chair at the breakfast bar and gestured for Harry to take it before sitting in the one beside him. "Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure Tony had an entirely different purpose in mind when he created it."
Harry laughed. "You mean he didn't expect to ever have to worry about his teenage son listening to him fight with his girlfriend about who will watch him while they both leave the state for work?"
"Probably the country in Tony's case," Rhodey corrected. He pulled a deck of cards out from his pocket and shook them to get Harry's attention.
Even though he'd rather be in his room if he couldn't listen in on Tony and Pepper anymore, Harry gave a slight nod, otherwise Rhodey would know for sure he'd been eavesdropping on purpose.
"Did Tony call you to babysit me?" Harry asked as soon as he dealt the cards and they were a few, awkwardly silent rounds into a game of War. "Because I don't need a babysitter."
"Nah. Nat called me early this morning after Fury gave her the order. Figured it's the perfect opportunity to fulfill my uncle duties." Rhodey slapped his hand down on the pair of cards right before Harry's hand accidentally went to grab them, losing his three to Rhodey's five. "Ah! No cheating."
"A three with a five? Nothing to get so excited over," Harry commented, then lost the next four battles just as bad. "She's really mad at him. I kind of thought she'd be proud of what he does… saving people."
Rhodey placed his cards on the table, effectively pausing their game. "Yeah, well, after almost sacrificing himself with the nuke last year, they both had a rough go for a while. Then a few clean-up missions turned south, and she threatened to leave if he didn't make his life a priority. I'm pretty sure he said he'd hang up the suit for her but Tony claims they agreed to him being more selective on the missions he went on."
"Emergencies only," Harry repeated the words he'd heard Tony say to Pepper.
Rhodey grinned. "He pulled that again on her, huh?" Harry nodded. "To be fair, your dad has scaled back significantly from the front lines. In the weeks after New York he was gone almost every week. Then he went back to Malibu for a bit hoping the change of scenery would help, but Pepper said he locked himself in the garage working on suits…"
Rhodey trailed off, his eyes peering through Harry, not at him, remembering those days. To Harry, it seemed impossible to imagine confident, boisterous Tony holed up in his garage trying to forget his own demons… not unlike what Harry was trying to do lately.
"They came back here as a compromise," Rhodey continued. "Tony poured his energy into supporting the team's artillery and tech and stayed out of any unnecessary battles. Not sure it's working so well, honestly. I think he just exchanged one obsession with another."
Harry wondered exactly where, and how, he fell into Tony and Pepper's timeline. Had he shown up while they were still adjusting to life in the city without Tony going out as Iron Man at SHIELD's every beck and call? Most of the team had been out on a mission the week Harry arrived here. Would Tony have been with them if not for Pepper? Then possibly the biggest piece weighing on Harry's mind about it all: was Pepper somehow going to use Harry to convince Tony to finally stop? Harry was already being used in too many other people's agendas, he didn't want to add Pepper as another one.
"I think she's being too hard on him," Harry said. Rhodey had taken his silence to restart the game and in some statistically improbable way, Harry had lost about half of his cards.
"You do?"
Harry shrugged. "I can see where Tony's coming from, that's all. I want to be a… erm… police officer… or, well… I want to be the one who finds the bad guys and puts them away. He wants to keep the world and the people around him safe. I don't think that's such a bad thing."
Rhodey sighed. "You and your dad are a lot alike, you know? Don't let Pepper hear you say that."
Although Harry had been keeping his own mental tally of all the ways he and Tony were similar, hearing Rhodey say it warmed him from the inside.
Rhodey asked Harry about his plans of wanting to become a police officer. Harry did his best to answer them in the most muggle way possible. He didn't know what level of position an Auror would equal in either the British or American police force, so he simply reiterated the fact that he wanted to hunt down the bad guys, not hand out parking and speeding tickets. Rhodey said he understood the fundamental need to fight for innocent people and, naturally, suggested Harry consider joining the military, which Harry had actually thought about before Hagrid told him he was a wizard. The British Wizarding World didn't have an official military, or else Harry probably would join, leaving Auror the next closest thing.
The conversation hit a lull and Harry remembered something Tony said to Pepper as JARVIS muted their room: "Listen, I'm doing my best to balance everything here, alright. I even canceled Pete—"
"Hey, Rhodey, who is Pete?" Harry casually asked. Something inside told him that this might be a controversial subject. "O-or maybe Peter? Do I have a half-brother wandering around the country somewhere?"
Rhodey didn't have time to answer before the door behind them opened and Tony came out dressed in a tight black short-sleeved shirt with a gray long-sleeved undershirt, his hair styled, and beard nicely trimmed; looking a lot nicer than Harry would have for going out on a mission in a few hours.
"I would say no, but then again you showed up here out of left field so never say never, I guess," Tony quipped, sending a quick wink to Harry. "Hey Honeybear, aren't you supposed to be in DC this week?"
"Next week. And Nat called," Rhodey said. Tony winced in response. "I figured you might need a hand and I have fourteen years to make up with my new nephew. We were just getting to know each other. Did you know he wants to be a police officer?"
"No, I'm not sure I did." Tony frowned. His eyes squinted as he pointed between Harry and Rhodey. "You're not trying to recruit him, are you? Because I thought glasses were a no-no in the Air Force."
"No," Rhodey shook his head. "That's not true."
"Huh," Tony hummed. "In that case, I'm sure we'll come up with some other disqualifying reasons."
"Like not being a US citizen?" Harry offered.
"Exactly like that!" Tony exclaimed, letting out a relieved sigh and a glare at Rhodey that all but screamed 'take that'.
Harry's lip curled as he looked at Rhodey. "You know, I'm probably eligible for the Royal Air Force. Anyone you know there?"
"Oh, no you don't." Tony clipped Harry on the shoulder, then tilted his head to the front door. "C'mon, kid, I need to lay down the house rules. We're going to have to walk and talk if I'm going to get my suit ready while being only casually late."
Rhodey dramatically rolled his eyes as Harry followed Tony to the door.
"Oh hey, Tones?" The Colonel called right before they left. Tony turned, putting Harry standing awkwardly between them. "You're going to need to unmute your bedroom."
Harry could almost see the wheels in Tony's head turning as he deciphered the meaning of Rhodey's warning. For a second Tony's eyes narrowed and then widened as he looked at Harry, then to Rhodey, and back again, like they were having a silent conversation between them. So much for his eavesdropping staying a secret; apparently best friend status was above new uncle status.
Tony clicked his tongue and said over his shoulder, "Thanks for the heads up. See you in a couple of days. Don't try getting in my lab while I'm gone. I'll know if you do."
The walk down to Tony's lab was quiet and stressful for Harry. He'd rarely been caught listening in on places he shouldn't, and honestly, even if he had, he wouldn't have cared much. The worst punishment he'd get was detention at school and more chores at the Dursleys. Yet somehow, with each step he took towards their destination, more dread filled up Harry's stomach, slowing him down until he was a solid two steps behind Tony. Just like the warm feeling in his chest — the one that grew whenever Tony said or did something kind for Harry and he was slowly getting used to — the guilt he had at disappointing Tony by spying on him was an entirely new experience for Harry.
Tony led him past the work benches they had been at on Harry's first night there and through another biometrically locked door, revealing an even larger workshop filled with holographic schematics on two of the walls, tables with various parts of Iron Man, and a set of clear cupboards along the far wall with five different Iron Man suits. They stopped in front of a table holding a hand gauntlet for his right hand. Tony picked it up and put it down, more like he was giving himself something to do rather than following a plan in his head.
"This is where I keep the combat-ready suits and do all the repairs. I like to keep the work side of my job separate from the innovation side," Tony answered one of Harry's many unasked questions.
"How many workshops do you need?"
It had been rhetorical. Over the last two weeks, Tony had walked him through all of them, but with a small chuckle, Tony answered, "I have one downstairs for my official SI work. I've been told to keep those separate for legal purposes." He rolled his eyes dramatically, making Harry laugh. "Then I have this lab closest to the penthouse and it's split with this side for Iron Man repairs and the other being a more like R where I start projects for both SI and the team–half of which never officially leave the room–and then hobby projects, things for my cars, and a small chemistry area for… erm… chemistry."
"Very profound."
"I share the upstairs lab with Bruce," Tony went on, only acknowledging Harry's sarcasm with a sideways glance and a slight twitch of his lip. "I won't pretend I have any clue of what he does there all day, but that's also where all of my official Avengers projects happen, once they're vetted out down here, and any repairs for anyone else. I'm also working on a legion of suits to help us out on missions. That's still a few years out from being ready. They'll handle things like crowd control to help keep civilians out of harm's way. With any luck, should another New York happen, they can help to keep the casualties down. Too many people died in the panic that day."
"My friend, Hermione, would love all of this. She's not really into mechanics, that's more Ron's dad, but she loves learning about… well, about everything," Harry replied, instantly regretting bringing up his friends.
"We'll have to find a way to get them out here sometime, then. Your friend's dad too," Tony casually said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. And maybe for Tony Stark it could be, not that Harry would put much hope in him being able to do so. Pulling a screwdriver out of a drawer, Tony made an change on the side of the gauntlet, put his hand inside, and wiggled the fingers around, like Harry did after he cut his hand the night he ran away. Focused on the movements, Tony said, "As you heard, it looks like I'll be gone for a few days. Rhodey will be here until Pepper's home from Baltimore. I'm still not exactly sure what I'm walking into on this mission, but I'll try to check in as often as I'm able to. I'll be calling you on your new phone, not the mirror, so try to keep it on."
"Yes, sir," Harry replied. Since he hadn't used the phone yet, and didn't have one at the Dursleys or want to tell Tony he did not know how it worked, he'd have to ask Rhodey to help him. Somehow it felt less embarrassing to ask him rather than Tony, the literal tech genius.
"And don't think we're done with this whole magic thing," Tony warned, still focused on tweaking his gauntlet. "When I get back, we'll get you some help for the survivor's guilt and do a deep dive into this whole 'death theft' guy—"
"Death theft?" Harry asked.
Tony put the screwdriver and gauntlet down. "Voldemort is French. Vol is theft or flight… de is of… and mort means death. Therefore, your villain named himself "Theft of Death". I'd say it's a bit cliche for my liking, however, my suit isn't iron, so who am I to judge?"
A laugh slipped from Harry's throat, lightening the air in the workshop. He'd have to remember to tell Ron about it.
"This whole evil wizard, dark ritual thing will also change our tactic in announcing you as the Stark Heir," Tony casually added. "Probably in your favor, though."
"I didn't realize you need a tactic," Harry muttered.
Tony scoffed. "These things have to be meticulously outlined. I was already asking for the maximum anonymity possible, like your mother wanted. As a minor, the press can't print your name. My team of lawyers have assured me that a few targeted reminders of the consequences of violating the law should be sufficient, but I'm not totally convinced. So this new information of you… hiding… gives me a solid reason to scrap the whole thing and push it off until we're back from Malibu. If that's ok with you, of course."
"Ok with me?" Harry clarified. No adult ever cared what he wanted.
"Yeah, it's your privacy too." Tony tapped his shoulder against Harry's.
"Why do you have to announce it at all? Who cares if you have a kid?" Harry, possibly naively, asked. If it were up to him — and it sounded like Tony wanted his opinion on the matter — he'd keep the press as far away from him. The "news" Rita Skeeter wrote about him last year was enough to last a lifetime.
"Harry, you're the heir to Stark Industries, the soon-to-be leading tech company in the world," Tony stated rather solemnly. "Plus, given my rather exuberant past, everyone will want to know about you and even if they can't legally print any details about you, they'll do anything to dig up whatever they can. People can't be trusted with any information, so if we let the cat out of the bag that I have a kid we have some kind of chance at controlling the narrative. From there, any violation of that request is fair game for my team of lawyers and the public relations team to obliterate them."
Logically, Harry knew Tony was famous, probably more famous than Harry in the wizarding world, yet he couldn't imagine people wanting to know him strictly for being Tony's son. His whole Playboy era made a little sense — it's why Skeeter's articles about Harry's love triangle did so well — but the whole Stark Industries Heir part sounded far-fetched. Harry had to be the least qualified person to run the company. Plus, James Potter had left plenty in his vault for Harry to live off of. Harry technically wasn't even a Potter, and the man gave up his life for Harry and arranged it for Harry to be his heir, making the whole situation of learning his true parentage even more heartbreaking. He did nothing to deserve it.
"I don't need to be your heir," Harry blurted out with a hint of disdain in his voice, not caring how selfish it made him sound. Lost in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed Tony returned to his work until the man practically dropped the screwdriver at Harry's words, eyeing him and waiting for Harry to explain. "I don't know anything about your company and… my parents… they… I can live comfortably on what they left me."
The last part came out as a jumbled mess. Even if Tony knew the details about Harry being there for protection, he didn't want Tony to think that he was there for the man's money.
"Let's save the details of the company for another day," Tony suggested. "Maybe one where I didn't learn all your secret life and someone out there actively trying to kill you, and me with one foot out the door heading to Europe. As for the rest of it, whether or not you need it, if I were to die tomorrow–" he winced at his choice of words, "–bad timing, I know, just understand that in that event you, Peter, and Pepper will be well cared for. It's already set in stone. Papers signed and all that."
Harry audibly gulped. All his life he just wanted to be "Harry". Now it looked like being Harry Anthony Evans, heir to Stark Industries, would be just as daunting as Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, had been. He didn't want either of them.
"It's not a big deal," Tony said, placing his hand on Harry's shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "We'll get through it together. I won't leave you to handle it alone. Not the media circus and not the evil wizard hunting you down. Which reminds me, did Gandalf say he'd bring some books for me to read?"
"Gandalf?"
Tony smirked. "It's a Lord of the Rings ref—"
"Oh, I know what it is," Harry said, giving his head a little shake. "If you think Professor Snape is Gandalf, wait until you see Dumbledore. He's the headmaster at my school."
"You mean the same person who dropped you off at your aunt's in the middle of the night and faked your birth certificate to hide you even further from me?" Tony sarcastically asked with a wave of his hand. He didn't wait for Harry to answer. "Trust me, you don't want me meeting him anytime soon. I have way too many questions he probably doesn't want to answer. He can start with forcing a fourteen-year-old to compete in a deadly tournament when he was three years under the minimum age, then work backwards from there. Something every year was it?"
"Something like that," Harry whispered. If not for the triumphant hmph from Tony, Harry would have assumed he'd said it too quietly for Tony to hear.
"The books?"
"Yeah, he told me he'd bring a few to get you started and a way for us to visit the marketplace," Harry finally answered.
After Tony had left him, Snape, and Fury to their discussion on what books to get and how to get them, Snape had offered to bring a few and Polyjuice Potion for a trip to the New York wizarding market. He'd also be bringing a stronger calming draught — something Harry did not tell Tony — for the tremors after his diagnostic charm determined the tremors were psycho-something… a fancy word for 'in his head'. Snape had actually used the phrase, 'physical manifestation of his mental trauma' but it sounded like 'in your head' to Harry. Regardless of what he called it, Harry would do whatever it took to stop them.
"Perfect." Tony tapped a few keys on his phone, pulling up a holographic image Harry had no hope of deciphering and swiping a few of the lines to the left, almost at random. "I'm going to need everything I can get my hands on about magic if I'm going to set up the right protection."
"It won't work."
Suddenly, the screen disappeared, and Tony turned to face Harry directly. Placing both of his hands on Harry's shoulder — Harry barely suppressed his flinch from the action — he looked into Harry's eyes and said, "Let me deal with the logistics, alright? I told you, I fix things. It's what I do and I will fix this for you."
Harry never responded. He didn't want to lie by saying he trusted Tony, but he didn't want to drag it out any further.
He stayed in the workshop with Tony while he updated configurations of his suit for their mission until they said the most awkward goodbye of Harry's life, and Tony went upstairs to the Avengers briefing room, leaving Harry to make his way back home with two things lingering on his mind: could Tony truly keep him safe from Voldemort and he never found out who that Peter guy was.
ooOoo
In a very uncharacteristic move, Tony's fingers nervously tapped against his thigh as he stood in the elevator taking him up to the Avengers business floor, a journey of only four floors that today felt forever away. The business floor was where all the mundane, boring, but required, Avengers stuff happened so they could continue to do the fun exciting missions. It was where they briefed and debriefed about those missions, discussed topics like training schedules, threat assessments, and budgets, and a bunch of other rooms Tony hardly cared about. It also held their artillery room, where Tony was headed.
For the first time in a year, really since New York, Tony felt torn about leaving on the mission. Sure, he had argued all the reasons he needed to go to Pepper, but then he walked out of his room and saw Harry… and, well, he'd be lying if he said he didn't get thrown back into any of his many memories listening to his own parents fight over his father's last-minute business trips. Knowing Harry had overheard him and Pepper made all the energy Tony put into being a better father than Howard Stark feel worthless. He had so much he still wanted to tell Harry, from how he was feeling about the whole magic ordeal to his feelings about having a son. Regardless of what the teen had said while in the workshop, Harry didn't trust him against the death wizard… and the more Tony thought about the situation the less confident he became too.
All the magic and Howard memories aside, Tony had to go on this mission. A big part of him liked how it gave him a solid reason to put off the anxious thoughts threatening him, but another part said this was the mission they'd been preparing for and that it went deeper than rescuing a pair of potentially enhanced twins. The last time he had such a feeling, he became Iron Man, so ignoring it was futile.
But Harry.
Tony shook the creeping doubt out of his head when the elevator dinged, pushing aside any doubts and getting himself into full Iron Man mode as soon as he stepped foot onto the floor. Slowly, he made his way through the labyrinth of halls to the Artillery room; assuming everyone was now prepping their gear. As usual, his hunch was right.
"You're late, Stark," Natasha greeted him with a smirk as he entered the artillery room. Natasha pushed the upgraded Widow Bites into their holsters. "Clint got here over an hour ago."
"In my defense, Fury didn't say exactly how long it'd take Merida to get his ass ready." With nothing for him to do, having already sent his suit to the Quinjet, Tony wandered around the room closely watching Nat and Clint pack, trying to find out some kind of information about what they might be walking into. Based on his required presence, he figured there would be heavy fire and their choice and quantity of weapons all but confirmed it. "Could've gone without me."
"Our orders were to go as a full team," Steve answered from behind Tony.
Tony whipped around, frustrated that he'd missed Steve already here too. "Full team?" he demanded. "Banner and Thor too?"
Steve nodded. "Bruce is already on the jet. Thor's going to meet us in Sokovia. You're last to arrive."
Sokovia. At least he knew where they'd been deployed to, however Bruce and Thor upped the threat analysis. No one wanted Hulk there on a rescue mission, least of all Bruce. What did they say to get him to agree?
"You'd know that if you were on time," Steve lectured.
"It's been an impossibly long day already, plus punctuality isn't really my thing," Tony said with a wink as he went to the cabinet where he'd put the upgraded comms he finished two weeks ago. Pulling the small box off the shelf he handed it to Steve, and they made their way to the Quinjet; his olive branch. "I'm here now, what'd I miss?"
"Nothing," Clint said from the Captain's seat of the jet. "Hill said she'd send us the file as soon as she could."
Tony sent a satisfying glare at Steve that clearly said look at that in the snarkiest tone he could convey through his face.
If the lack of briefing at the Tower was Tony's second clue that whatever they were walking into was going to be bad, then the third came when they were told they wouldn't get those details until they were well over the Atlantic.
Tony spent the ride wandering the jet, simultaneously avoiding thinking about Harry or his predicament. He rubbed slow circles around the arc in his chest to calm him down as he made his rounds throughout the jet, pretending to review the teams' gear for updates. The day had gone from bad to worse and he wondered if Pepper had been onto something. What if this time he didn't come home at the end? Any of these missions could be his last and the best he gave Harry was a handshake and an awkward goodbye.
"Hurry up, Barton! I programmed JARVIS to fly this bird better than anyone. He doesn't need a babysitter!" Tony snapped at Clint, who was told to fly the Quinjet until they reached a designated waypoint — a point which had come and gone — where JARVIS'S new autopilot program would take over. They were waiting for him to join the rest of them at the holoscreen because according to Hill, whatever they were walking into had to be done "as a team" and therefore they needed to brief "as a team".
Whatever number clue that was, Tony didn't like it.
"I'm sorry if I like to make sure that we won't crash as soon as I pass the controls," the other man grumbled. He took the last seat at their makeshift table around the holoscreen, knocking Tony's shoulder on his way there. "Not all of us have flying suits, you know."
"Or can survive a fall from thirty-thousand feet," Nat quipped, her eyebrow arched as she gestured towards Steve and Bruce.
Sometimes Tony forgot how Clint and Natasha weren't enhanced like Steve and Hulk, weren't Gods like Thor, and didn't have any armor to protect them like Tony. They also weren't magical, like Harry, although he doubted he'd know about it if they were sworn to secrecy. No, they were just two very skilled humans doing this for reasons Tony probably didn't want to know, and somehow that was more terrifying than Gods, super serum, or magic.
Tony shifted his chair to allow Clint room to tuck in, as Steve handed out a manila folder to everyone.
"Oh, sure, Rogers got the briefing materials," Tony complained. He went to open the folder, but Clint slammed his hand down to close it, almost getting Tony's hand in the process.
"That's because we could trust him not to peek at it before you were all assembled," Hill's hologram deadpanned.
Unfortunately, Tony couldn't argue against her on that. He would have looked at it the moment she turned to leave and not batted an eye. Bruce was out too since Tony could convince his science-bro to do the same if she'd given it to him. That left Clint and Nat, and for the right price they could be swayed, but Tony wanted to owe the two as few favors as possible. Being in debt to a Russian spy, even a reformed one working for SHIELD, wasn't high on his bucket list. Therefore, Steve was the only logical choice. Nothing could convince him to abandon his morals, although not from lack of effort on Tony's part. Hopefully, Harry being fourteen already meant he wouldn't pick up that specific less-than-stellar trait of Tony's.
The folder under Tony's hands practically burned as he listened to Hill walk them through the latest intel — the signature and their twins had been on the move, finally settling into Sokovia where it continued to amplify over the last two days. The reconnaissance team, a group Tony didn't realize existed until right then, reported heavy security. Hill did not specify what they were guarding, but Tony got the impression it was more than the imprisoned twins. He got his answer when she finally allowed them to open the folder. Tony's stomach might as well have dropped through the jet's floor, straight into the ocean below them, and his blood instantly boiled at the sight staring up at him.
God, sometimes he really hated being right.
With his eyes locked on the picture in front of him, Tony spat out, "Are you telling me we've been hunting this the whole time?"
No one answered him — the rest of the team likely as shocked as him at the news and Hill unwilling to admit to the farce they'd set up. That was as good of an answer for Tony as he needed.
Nat finally looked up at the holoscreen, her flared nostrils the only outward sign of her fury. "Where did we get the Intel from?"
"It's classified," Hill replied.
Tony let out a frustrated hmph. Wasn't he the one who said Fury's secrets had secrets? And really, this wasn't much different from finding the Tesseract to save SHIELD's super secret weapons manufacturing, so it shouldn't have surprised any of them now to hear that they had been led down a deceptive path once again. Tony doubted any of them, even Steve, would trust Fury after this.
Hill's lack of answers kick-started a flurry of conversations, each person speaking over the other, with Hill answering them the best she could
"You know what this is? Bullshit!" Tony yelled after the third 'that's classified' answer they received. "I'm not leaving this jet until someone tells me how the hell something like this" –he slammed his hand down on the grainy picture of Loki's scepter being brought into some dingy bunker– "just goes missing from a locked down SHIELD facility! And I don't want to hear it's classified!"
Notes:
I hope this didn't end too much on a cliffhanger because as I mentioned above, chapter 18 still isn't finished and I don't know when it'll be done/ready to post. I've been dealing with some legal issues at home from a close family member harassing me and my family, and it's taken me more away from writing than I want. At the bare minimum, I might just throw it together as a "good enough" chapter just to push the story through to the next arc. We'll see how everything flows over the next week or so in my life.
Chapter 18: Avengers Assemble
Notes:
So this chapter has been the bane of my existence since the first draft but I think it came out pretty well. Apparently I hate writing rewrites of canon as much as I hate reading them because this chapter is pretty much my version of the opening battle in Age of Ultron. You'll start to see that this story is going to pick up part of the plot from Age of Ultron and it made sense to use this scene as the bridge for it.
On a personal note, things in my real life are hopefully starting to settle. In the last two months I've gotten an up close look at how little the justice system will do to prevent crimes (because it's not enough to know that someone has a history of violence to keep them away from you, even if you have the violence on a security camera footage) and I fell into a deep depression (to where I could hardly get out of bed). But I finally was able to get a help for harassment/stalking and am doing all the right things to help my depression from this horrible situation. All in all, this difficult chapter couldn't have come at a worse mental health time for me and I'm so happy it's finally posted. Please be gentle with it :)
Thank you all for the comments/reviews/kudos! I can't believe how quickly this story has grown and there's a whole lot more coming down the pipeline.
Chapter Text
"I'm not leaving this jet until someone tells me how the hell something like this" –Tony slammed his hand down on the grainy picture of Loki's scepter being brought into some dingy bunker– "just goes missing from a locked down SHIELD facility! And don't you dare say it's classified!"
ooOoo
"We'd like to know that too," Maria Hill said, breaking the long, tense silence that had everyone on the jet feeling uneasy. "I swear, when we first found the signature Fury, himself, confirmed the scepter was secure."
"Well, it sounds like you have a security problem, Agent," Tony snapped.
Another painful pause. "We're looking into it."
Tony assumed she knew more than she was sharing, but didn't press the issue when he saw the last photograph in the file. Taken in the same compound where Loki's scepter was located, sat a box filled with Phase 2 weapons — the weapons SHIELD used the Tesseract to make last year. Evidently, their third objective on the mission, ranked between retrieving Loki's scepter and rescuing the captive twins, was to secure the stolen weapons.
Because everything always comes down to weapons.
Tony started doing some back-of-the-napkin calculations to figure out precisely how dangerous the weapons could be with the Tesseract still stored in Asgard. Nothing on Earth could compare to the power of the Tesseract, so there wasn't much to worry about if these guys couldn't actually operate the weapons without the energy from it. Unfortunately, according to Tony's calculations, as well as Agent Hill's refusal to refute them, the situation wasn't looking promising.
Tony turned a deaf ear as soon as Steve and Clint turned the subject from the tech into a half-hour rant on the ethics of using children in political agendas. Once again, Hill claimed she didn't know about the scepter or weapons until after they had identified the twins. Partway through, Nat suggested they abort altogether, arguing that they weren't properly prepared for the mission given the new information. At some point, Bruce calmly left the call and ended up in the back of the jet wearing a pair of headphones for the rest of the trip. No one needed to ask why, nor dared to interrupt him.
And Tony? He actually stayed quiet, trying to concentrate on the weapons while convincing himself not to take his suit to fly straight to SHIELD and take everything they had with whatever force he deemed necessary. His anger, though, kept circling to the twins, and he eventually found himself agreeing with Steve, for the first time since they met, that SHIELD had crossed a line by using the kids. A year ago, hell, even a month ago, Tony would have scoffed at Cap's all too perfect moral compass. He might have even made some snarky comment about Steve's need to save everyone. Now all Tony could think of was Harry; of learning how his son was being used by both sides in a magical war, and how eerily similar to the situation these twins — someone else's son and daughter — were in. First, their captors used them for reasons Tony still hadn't discovered, then SHIELD used them to motivate the Avengers to find the scepter and weapons.
What were the Avengers supposed to do now? Turn a blind eye as they run past the twins' locked cells? There was no way Tony, or any of them, could do that. Not that Tony would say as much in his current company. He had a reputation to uphold.
The rest of the flight to Sokovia was a somber affair. Being up since three in the morning with Harry — did the strange window thing seriously happen less than twenty-four hours ago?! — meant Tony had no chance of staying awake throughout the second half of the trip if he intended to be on his game for the mission. And he fully intended to be on his A-game because if he wanted to get home to clean up the mess he left, he definitely needed to bring his best on this mission. Fortunately, everyone knew better than to bother him, meaning Tony got a few hours of semi-decent sleep by the time they picked up Thor in Berlin. Most people wouldn't consider it an ideal amount of rest, but Tony had worked harder on less. It was the story of his life, and he was thinking Pepper was right — something needed to change there.
With Thor in tow, they suited up, and before they knew it, Clint was landing the jet on the outskirts of a remote forest a few miles from the compound in question. They'd walk the rest of the way on foot, including Tony, to avoid tipping off the camp with the sound of his thrusters.
"I have heard there is a new young Stark in the ranks," Thor jubilantly said to Tony as they exited the Quinjet together. Steve and Bruce were already out planning their route with JARVIS on the handheld holomap, and the spy twins were following behind Tony and Thor, a place he didn't feel entirely comfortable with them being.
"Y'know," Tony said loud enough for the rest of the team to hear, "for a piece of need-to-know intelligence, it sure reached Europe fast."
As a gambling man, Tony would have put his bet on Natasha as the leak and not second-guessed himself at all. He would have lost every penny of that bet.
"I called him last week," Steve replied. With a wave of his hand, the holomap closed. Steve pointed north for them to head out. "Thor is part of this team. The team deserves to know about any potential distractions—"
"Distraction?!" Tony abruptly stopped walking. Behind him, Bruce shifted to the left to avoid running into him. "Who thinks my kid is a distraction? He hasn't even been here a month yet."
"Fury's words, not mine. I'm just following orders," Steve said, as if that made it any better. Steve would follow orders off a cliff; a fatal flaw Tony would never do. Hell, had Fury and Tony followed orders a year ago, Midtown would be nothing but a crater.
"All kids are a distraction, Stark," Clint added, jogging up beside him. Taking the lead, he called over his shoulder, "You'll learn."
Thor clapped Tony on the shoulder of his armor, giving him a slight push to restart their hike. "Don't listen to any of them. In Asgard, the birth of an offspring is a momentous occasion, one we celebrate for the entire month afterwards. We shall start the festivities when we return to New York."
"You know I'm always up for a party. In this case, you're about fifteen years too late." Tony stepped onto an old log, satisfied by the way it broke under his foot like nothing.
"Hey, at least you got to skip the diaper phase and terrible twos," Clint teased. Tony wanted to ask how the hell someone like him would know, but Clint kept on joking, "Could you just imagine a twenty-something Tony Stark in the men's room changing a diaper? Or dealing with a screaming kid because he doesn't want to leave the park? All while dressed in a Tom Ford suit and nursing a hangover."
"Laugh it up, Birdbrain." Tony scowled because, no matter how much he wanted to laugh it off and say Clint was exaggerating, Barton actually understated the mess Tony had been during Harry's toddler year. "Let's see how much help from the air you get today. Oh, don't worry, I won't let any fatal shots get by, just a stray one or two. Enough to rough you up a bit."
In the way only a well-trained team could do, they dropped the banter as soon as the Quinjet was out of view and the dense forest surrounded them on all sides. This was a scenario they'd trained well for throughout the year. They all fell into their respective roles — Steve setting the pace and navigation, Nat and Clint, weapons at the ready, scanning the canopy for any incoming danger, Thor and Bruce taking the rear for reinforcement should a fight break out. Tony usually flew ahead, giving Captain America the lay of the land, but given their goal of secrecy, he stayed in step with the spies; his gauntlet ready to fire should the need arise.
A little more than halfway to the compound, Steve signaled to stop. Tony scanned the area in front of them. An outline of a stone bunker appeared on his HUD, so he asked JARVIS to check for people. Empty, yet Steve still wanted to verify for himself. To no one's surprise, the "all clear" message came through their comms less than a minute later.
The hike seemed to go on forever. All the trees looked the same and with no official paths or roads through the area Tony really had no way of knowing if they were moving anywhere. In fact, had it not been for the terrain map of their progress continually updating their location, he might have accused Steve of leading them in circles.
More than once, Tony almost said "screw it" and took to the skies. They didn't really need the element of surprise for this. It wasn't like it helped them on any of the other five missions the team had been on this year, so it wouldn't take much to convince himself that a more direct approach would be better. Then Pepper's voice came into his head, warning him how alerting the enemy of their arrival by starting a fight among the team would probably get the twins killed and the weapons further hidden, so he passed the time brainstorming ways to add soundless thrusters to his next suit.
He had scrapped his third idea when Cap's voice came through his comm, instructing them to proceed with caution as they approached the top of a hill. His instructions, though firm, were with good intentions since the forest on the other side had been cleared out to make room for the four-structure compound; three ancient stone buildings and a large tent, just like they had briefed on in the Quinjet. If Tony remembered the pictures correctly, two of the structures held the scepter and weapons, and the tent probably held their supplies, ammunition, food, and water. No doubt they weren't getting regular deliveries out here.
As small and easy of a job as it first appeared, Tony didn't like it. Something felt odd about the entire scene, starting with the layout of the area. Unless they discovered a complex network of tunnels and bunkers beneath the three stone structures, the entire camp appeared too simplistic to hold anything of real value, especially compared to the previous locations the Avengers had been deployed in search of the scepter. Except for the people. JARVIS identified no less than four dozen people on or about the compound, far more than the tiny tent center could support. Finally, on top of the abnormally large team, the people he saw outside the structures were… wandering… around. Because that was the most accurate description of the chicken dances he saw them doing, simultaneously moving in a random and a scheduled cadence, unlike any guard watch he'd ever seen. Based on Captain Rogers' intrigued expression, the legitimate military soldier agreed.
"Alright, listen up, team," Steve announced in his trademark motivational speaking voice, the one saying he knew they were basically screwed, but had a job to get done. "By the looks of it, I think we all agree we're about to be outgunned down there–"
"Why, thank you, Captain Obvious." Tony gave the best salute possible in his clunky suit.
The speech ended up being more strategic and far less rallying than Tony expected.
They started with a layout of the compound, going through the potential places where their objectives — the scepter, the SHIELD-made weapons, and the twins, in that order — might be. They unanimously agreed that the building on the Northeast end of the compound most likely held Loki's Scepter. Most of the robotic-acting soldiers were guarding it, narrowly avoiding each other with each short pass, and of the three, they concluded the Scepter would be the most guarded. The weapon location came next, easily identifying the Southside building near the tent. As the only two-story building, it best resembled the building they saw in the photographs where the crates of weapons were delivered. This left the small, reddish structure to the East for the twins, assuming they weren't being held with the Scepter or the weapons. Sending a separate group to check it out was risky, but one they all thought necessary to avoid unintentionally leaving the two kids behind.
"We'll do this in teams," Steve commanded as they finished the briefing on the compound. "Clint, you and Nat find the twins. Get 'em out and to the bunker we passed on the way in. We'll meet you there."
Clint secured his bow and gave a nod.
"Thor and I will handle the weapons. We'll grab and go as many as we can and transport them up here in as few trips as possible. If we have time, we'll start moving them to the bunker with Clint and Nat." Steve turned to Tony. "Can you still track the scepter here?"
"I'm going to assume that's a rhetorical question." Tony scoffed. "Jay, pull up the signature and lock it on the map." At his command, a blinking blue dot appeared on a map of the compound JARVIS compiled during their briefing. Being within a half-mile of the object, the signal was weaker than it should have been. However, it confirmed their suspicion of it being somewhere inside the Northeast building. Tony shrunk the map to the corner of the HUD. "Anything else?"
"As soon as you have it, fly it directly to the jet and get back here for air support," Steve unhelpfully instructed. Tony would have done that without being ordered to, anyway.
"I'll handle ground support out here," Bruce quietly added from the edge of the hill, peering down at the camp. "Unfortunately, the Big Guy will do more harm than good down there, so I'll protect the weapons and the area between here and the bunker after Clint, Nat, and the twins make it there."
With the "teams" — a loose term in Tony's mind since he was working solo — all set, they moved on to timing. Ideally, they wanted to maintain the element of surprise; it was the reason they landed the Quinjet so far away and took the trip on foot. To do so, Steve suggested Tony fly out and around the forest to enter the camp from the North. This would allow the others to enter as discreetly as possible. Which, in itself, would be difficult coming from the top of a ridge with little tree cover leading into the camp. Nat planned out a route they could take on foot to keep them as covered as possible. Finally, if they stayed hidden throughout all of it, they had to synchronize Tony's exit to the Quinjet perfectly, and therefore Tony was given strict instructions not to fly out with the Scepter until the last of the weapons were secured.
Of course, as with most of the well-laid plans in Tony's life, all hell broke loose as soon as they stepped down the hill. Tony barely made it into the forest when dozens of angry men stormed out from the treeline around the camp.
"So much for the element of surprise," Tony grumbled, taking a sharp turn to soar into the fight by sending off a targeted charge right into the line of people heading straight into Nat and Clint. In the distance, the sound of Hulk roaring, followed by trees snapping and short-lived yelling, vibrated through Tony's armor. "Change of plans, Cap. Might I suggest we do this as efficiently as possible? I'll clear you landlubbers a path on my way to the Scepter, but then you gotta take it from there."
"Copy that," Nat answered for their leader as she and Clint worked in tandem on a group of guards swinging through the trees, attempting to engage in a hand-to-hand fight against which they had no idea how badly they'd lose. "Get the guys in first. They have more to move."
Agreeing with Nat, Tony hovered above Steve and Thor, ready to help if needed. Thor used the force of his hammer to take large, sweeping blows, sending enemies flying off into the distance, while Steve threw his shield, expertly banking it off the trees like a pinball and colliding with at least three people along its path. Just as the shield was losing momentum, Tony saw Steve touch the button on the inside of his glove, instantly recalling the shield and taking another half-dozen people down along the way.
"Hell yeah!" Tony exclaimed, unable to hide his excitement at seeing his latest creation in action. "You are so welcome, Captain America. Now let's get you guys into the camp and kick some ass in the process!"
"Language," Steve admonished.
"Oh, c'mon, old man," Tony teased, a friendly smirk hidden behind his mask, "you can't say we haven't rubbed off on you over the last year."
"You'll be happy for the reminder when your kid doesn't have the mouth of a sailor," Steve said. He lined up next to Thor and securely held out his shield to the God of Thunder. Like they had practiced countless times in the Tower, Thor slammed his hammer onto the shield, sending a wave out to knock down another set of incoming soldiers. Unfortunately, another set came in right behind them.
Despite Steve's disapproval of Tony's choice of words, 'kick some ass' was precisely what they did. In fact, if Tony wasn't so busy gloating over their victory, he might have noticed how easily the opposition went down. One swing of the hammer and Thor took out another group. Then Tony flew past a set hiding out in the trees and knocked them out with little effort. But all Tony could focus on was getting Steve and Thor to those weapons and being the one soaring through, he had the best position to get them there.
Upon finally reaching the stone two-story building, Steve and Thor stopped short of the heavily guarded door to take cover behind a boulder. Tony was about to fly in to take down the guards and blast the door off until bolts of lightning came crashing down to the Earth, causing everyone blocking the duo to fall to the ground. At the same time, an open-air vehicle with two large firearms mounted on the top came driving in behind the boulder, engaging Tony in a blast-for-blast battle while Thor and Steve headed for the building.
"Thor! Watch out!" Steve called through their comms. "RPG on the roof!"
"Of course there is." Tony sighed at the sight of the enormous weapon perched on the roof. He lifted his arm to fire at the two soldiers running to it, but stopped as Steve's shield soared into the sky, effectively taking down one man. With only half the job completed before the shield returned to Steve's arm, Thor's hammer came slamming into the RPG hard enough to knock it down, but unfortunately, not before the grenade deployed.
"Heads up," Tony warned his teammates on the ground. Without time to think, Tony locked his arm missile onto the moving weapon and sent it off, breathing a sigh of relief as he watched it explode far enough above Thor and Cap that they hardly felt it. "Get in there and secure those weapons. Time for me to check on the spy twins. See if they need help with their twins."
Navigating across the camp brought its fair share of obstacles. Tony dodged gunfire and explosions from every direction, engaging only with the few enemies who stood directly in his way. By the time he reached the East end of the camp, he saw Nat and Clint standing back-to-back, surrounded by incoming soldiers. At first glance, Tony couldn't tell whether they had the situation completely under control or if they were just trying to stay afloat. With a steady barrage of gunfire from Nat and a variety of arrows from Clint, they held their own, but made little headway in getting into the building.
"Need a hand?" Not waiting for an answer, Tony shot at the line of people on Clint's side, knocking them straight to the ground. "No need to thank me."
"Good," Clink chuckled. "I wasn't going to."
The small reprieve was short-lived as another round of people came filling in behind the fallen.
"We got the weapons." Steve's voice said through their comms. "Thor and Hulk are going to clear the way for me to get them back up to the ridge. I think I can get them all in one round."
"Copy that," Tony replied. He blasted a line in the ground between Nat and the group shooting at her. "At this rate, you'll be long gone before we find the twins or the scepter."
"Hey, boys," Nat said, grabbing Tony's attention and nodding at a 50-gallon oil drum sitting off to the side of the building they were attempting to infiltrate, "you thinking what I'm thinking?"
Without a word spoken between them, Tony and Clint shifted their plan to redirect the approaching group to the left side of the structure. Once they had everyone on the same side, Nat kicked the oil drum, sending it rolling into the middle of the group and taking down another few in its path. Clint then fired an exploding arrow into the oil drum, causing the whole thing to immediately explode with an impressive fireball.
As soon as the dust cleared, Clint and Nat ran into the building, leaving Tony hovering above, ready to shoot down any survivors. Confirming there were none, Tony pulled up the scepter beacon on his HUD and took off into the sky.
"I'm heading to the scepter," Tony announced over the comm.
Ignoring the chattering that came in reply — Thor reassuring them he and Hulk were handling the perimeter, Steve saying how he was taking the weapons to the bunker, and Clint giving a play-by-play of the containment cells they were searching and, so far, coming up empty-handed — Tony slowed down as he approached the building. Something about the sight in front of him felt very, very wrong, and it took two laps around the building to figure out what it was.
"Uh, guys," Tony said skeptically, "either we scared the guards off the scepter or something fishy is going on because it's a ghost town over here."
Tony flew around the building again, paying closer attention to the signature blinking on the HUD map during the trip. "Hey Jay, are we sure the scepter is in there? Based on the map, the thing should be on the outside."
"I can confirm that the signature you identified is correctly marked," JARVIS answered. "Whether it is the scepter, I cannot tell."
Tony groaned. There wasn't much else he could do besides check it out himself. "And is there anyone waiting for me on the other side of this door?"
"I detect no lifeforms."
"Yeah… that's not suspicious at all," Tony muttered. "Who would think to guard something as powerful as the magic death stick? Well, here goes nothing."
If Tony thought no one guarding the scepter was suspicious, the scene he walked into when he blasted down the door was flat out unbelievable. True to JARVIS's word, there were no lifeforms in the cramped, dusty computer room. Instead, he walked into seven bodies still sitting at their respective stations, like the ambush had been too fast to even move a muscle. With his hand raised, ready to fire if the assailant suddenly returned, Tony walked by each body, confirming through his HUD that they were dead.
Tony lifted the head of the last soldier. "Talk to me, Jay," he said, warily. "What happened here?"
"Based on their temperature and the ambient temperature of the room, I estimate they were killed over three hours ago," JARVIS said. "There is no sign of a struggle. With no obvious wounds, an exact cause of death is impossible to ascertain."
"Well, that's comforting." Tony felt anything but comfortable.
Tony inspected the room, waiting long enough in each corner and air shaft to look for hidden people or weapons that might have killed seven supposedly highly trained HYDRA troops in a matter of seconds without time to respond. After confirming that he was alone and the air was free of any hazardous chemicals, he exited his suit and practically ran to the nearest empty computer desk. To his surprise, it started up with a touch of the screen. Tony acted quickly, gaining access to the database to give JARVIS full rein to copy it all to headquarters.
Distracted by his coding, Tony startled at the sound of Natasha in his ear, "We've found no sign of the Maximoff twins anywhere on the premises. It's your call, Cap, but I don't think they were ever here."
There was a long pause while the reality of the situation passed through the team. They'd be returning without the one, or two, people they had come for.
"Meet us at the ship," Steve finally replied, solemnly. "How about you, Tony? Have you found the scepter?"
"I have a room of corpses but no scepter yet," Tony answered. He turned his attention to the room. "Supposedly, it's–"
"Sir," JARVIS interrupted mid-scan of the room, "I'm detecting an air draft along the North wall."
Tony slowly stepped up to the wall in question and ran his hands down its edges. Please be a secret door. Please be a secret door. His left hand crossed a ridge in the corner, triggering, as he'd hoped, the entire wall to slide sideways. Through the darkness in front of him, Tony could only see a rusted metal staircase leading underground and away from the main room — unironically in the same direction as the signal on his map.
"Standby, I think I found something," Tony whispered, more to himself than his teammates.
He didn't hesitate to enter the stairway, and the temperature seemed to plummet as soon as Tony took the first step down, practically pulling him down the steps towards where he knew he'd find the scepter. The stone walls on each side of the staircase made it narrow and claustrophobic, and each step he took creaked beneath his boots, sending flakes of rust into the darkness below. As he approached the bottom, the air had become thick with the smell of damp stone and something metallic.
"JARVIS?" he asked into his earpiece. "You there, buddy?"
But all he got was static.
At the bottom of the stairs, a passageway led to a long, curved corridor. Fluorescent lights flickered half-heartedly in their casings, casting irregular shadows along the concrete walls. Tony continued down the corridor, staying close to the wall in case he encountered any unexpected visitors, until he reached an old, thick metal door. It hung half-open, not enough to see what it protected, but Tony was confident he'd find the scepter there.
Tony stepped through, breath catching at the cavern in front of him.
The room was circular and wrong. Wrong proportions, wrong lighting—too dark in some places, too bright in others. The walls were lined with archaic-looking consoles that were almost too obviously hastily wired together and blinking with an outdated code. But it was the center that captured Tony's attention. The scepter stood on a steel pedestal, propped upright like an offering, like it was waiting for him to retrieve it. The gem atop it pulsed with slow, deliberate light, which he couldn't seem to stop staring at despite knowing exactly how much damage it could do.
Tony approached the scepter slowly, unconsciously, holding his breath the entire way. Every logical part of him screamed, 'this is a trap'. He knew what a trap looked like. He'd walked into plenty with and without the Avengers. There were no guns. No guards. No defenses. Just a scepter, waiting in the darkness for him.
"It feels like this thing is watching me."
His hand trembled, reaching out, unsure if he should touch it or not. The moment his fingertips brushed the scepter, the world around him began to unravel. The air thickened, and the cavern's echoing sounds dulled, muffled as if he'd been submerged underwater. Red bled into the edges of his vision, pulsating in sync with the pounding in his chest, quickening until something cracked inside his skull. Tony collapsed to his knees on the cold stone floor, the breath knocked out of him by a force that didn't touch his body but shot straight through his mind. When he looked up, the scepter room was gone.
He was in the Tower's conference room, sitting across from Harry. Everything looked as it had the first day he'd met Harry. The table was spotless, the light from the windows warm and golden. Tony opened his mouth to ask what the hell was going on, but before he could get the words out, a sharp red light flashed across his vision. In a blink, the scene shifted. Now he was in the kitchen, cooking breakfast beside Harry. He watched Harry's hands fold the dough like a pro. It was all so vivid, Tony swore he could reach out and touch him.
This wasn't real. He knew it wasn't, no matter how much he wanted it to be.
Another crack split his skull, sharper this time, and the red light flared again — hotter, angrier.
Suddenly, he was outside his house in Malibu, standing shoulder to shoulder with Harry. The salty breeze curled around them, warm and clean. Malibu still felt more like home to Tony than New York, and the idea of sharing it with Harry filled Tony's chest with quiet hope.
Then the world fell apart. A blast rang out from somewhere deep inside the house. The sky flickered. Windows shattered. The ground beneath them shook violently as the perfect vision buckled and broke apart. His house was crumbling; the walls caving in, concrete crashing down in thick clouds of dust.
Tony stood unharmed in the chaos, but Harry wasn't. He was pinned beneath a heavy beam, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. His eyes locked onto Tony's — wide with betrayal, with pain. "You said you'd keep me safe, Dad," he rasped.
"Tony?"
A firm grip on Tony's shoulder shook him out of whatever trance he'd been forced into and back to the present. Steve stood directly in front of him, his icy blue eyes almost staring through Tony into his soul. Past Steve, Tony saw his Iron Man suit, Natasha, and Clint standing guard around the scepter, both simultaneously keeping watch for any invaders and observing Tony from a distance.
"What the fuck happened?!" Tony jumped to his feet. He grabbed hold of Steve's outstretched arm to steady himself when his head felt dizzy from the movement. "Did you see… How is it possible… When did you get here?"
Steve's face contorted into at least a dozen different expressions of concern, more than Tony thought was possible. "We lost you on comms about ten minutes ago. I sent Clint and Nat to check it out. They called me when they saw the suit upstairs downloading data without you anywhere around. We found you in a–I don't know how to explain it. You looked far away from here, if you get what I mean. Are you alright?"
"Peachy keen, Cap," Tony dusted the dirt from his pants and walked to his suit, breathing easier once it enveloped around him. He strolled up to the scepter, hoping he looked more confident about the damn thing after whatever he'd experienced. Tony half expected the world to disappear again when he grabbed the scepter with his suit on too. Thankfully, nothing happened this time. "Let's get this bad boy to Thor. I think we all agree it's safer in Asgard than in SHIELD's so called safe custody."
Natasha slyly grinned. "Fury's going to absolutely love hearing that."
"I've never given a damn what Fury thinks and I'm not about to start now," Tony scoffed. If anyone saw how rattled he still was from his ordeal, they said nothing. They all simply followed behind him up the rickety metal staircase, passed the sitting morgue, and on all the way to the Quinjet.
On the way through the forest to the jet, they talked about the debrief plan – how they'd send Thor to Asgard with the Scepter before any of them contacted Hill or Fury. By then, it'd be too far out of SHIELD's reach for either of them to do anything about it. They talked about how the entire mission seemed odd, from the robotic guards to the dead bodies in the computer room, and agreed they all needed a hot shower and a good night's rest before returning to New York. Tony knew the perfect place they could go.
What none of them knew was that two people had been watching them in the scepter room and were still there, plotting their next move.
"You let him go?!" Pietro stormed out from the shadows up to his sister's face. "What was the point of me setting all of this up if you were just going to let him walk out?!"
Wanda slowly shook her head. "I got what I needed from him," she answered confidently.
Pietro wasn't so convinced. He had stood there, alone, right in front of them, exactly what they'd wanted. They had spent months after escaping Strucker's lab, working out different ways to draw Tony Stark out of his Ivory Tower. And Wanda let him stroll right out from them.
"Fine," Pietro conceded. "What did you learn?"
Her hands glowed red as a sinister grin crawled up her cheeks. "He has a son."
Chapter 19: A Small Detour
Notes:
First, thank you everyone for the support. It's been a crazy few weeks for me but I'm surviving.
Second, in case it wasn't obvious in the last chapter the Avengers have decided to send the scepter with Thor so there won't actually be Ultron here. The Age of Ultron plot is kind of merging with a Harry Potter plot through Wanda.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Sometimes Tony hated being a genius. It had its perks, of course. His genius mind saved him on more occasions than should have ever been necessary. And he made a lot of people exceedingly rich, himself included, from his top-of-the-line innovative tech. However, most people — particularly those who profited from it — didn't really understand how Tony's ADHD brain worked; how, for better or worse, once an idea popped into his head he had to see it through to its success, or in more cases than not its failure.
One of those nagging ideas was pushing the limit on how much extra power he could add to Clint's set of exploding arrows. It ended up being one of the bad ones, proven by Clint nearly blowing his right ear off when it prematurely exploded mid-shot; a test they both vowed never to talk about again. Another was suggesting the move to New York. The idea had been planted early in the Tower's rebuild but it took Tony four agonizing months to finally admit it to Pepper. Jury was still out on how that decision would work out; definitely better than Clint's arrows.
So after staying up most of the night trying to unravel the vision… for lack of a better word… he had of Harry dying, he shouldn't have been surprised where it led him: questioning how close Surrey was to Obidiah's London penthouse — a place Tony inherited in his godfather's untimely death and the team agreed to use as their overnight stop before heading home. At first, Tony reminded himself of all the reasons a surprise visit to the Dursleys' was a bad idea. It'd likely embarrass Harry, he'd promised Harry to leave them alone, and he didn't want to draw unwanted attention to the potentially missing child in either the magical or non-magical community. But anyone who knew Tony also knew how much he hated sitting idly on the sidelines so, in the end, his deep-rooted desire to keep his son safe won out and he concluded that finding the abusive relatives to make sure they got the message to never see the teen again was much easier than hunting down a dark wizard in a hidden magical society.
That was exactly how he found himself sitting on the living room sofa at six in the morning, drinking his first of many cups of coffee, and plugging 4 Privet Drive into his phone. He almost dropped his cup when the milage appeared on the screen. Thirty miles. Just thirty miles. Being so close, how could he not drop in for a quick visit? Deep in thought, Tony walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the room and stared out towards the horizon. Could he see their cookie-cutter home from there? He squinted at the horizon. Technically, on a clear day he should be able to see thirty miles from the penthouse suite. He'd definitely be able to see it if he hovered above the building in his suit. Hell, he could probably get JARVIS to target the boring house on his HUD, and then it'd only take one small missile–
"Have we heard from Thor yet?"
Tony whipped around at the question and relaxed at the sight of Steve standing in the open kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee. With everything going on in his head, he forgot the others were staying there too. The sound of the shower down the hall meant Steve wasn't the only one of them awake and soon Tony would be overwhelmed by people. He wasn't used to more than one — now two — people living with him. He hadn't even really settled in with Pepper when Harry showed up.
"I didn't mean to startle you."
"You didn't," Tony stated confidently, unwilling to show any weakness in front of Captain America despite his internal promise to get along better. And they had been, really. Downing the last sip or two of his own coffee in one go, he headed to the kitchen for a refill. Steve eyed him warily, no doubt judging Tony for his caffeine addiction, as the rich liquid filled his plain red mug. "He contacted me around four this morning. The Scepter is safe in Asgard," Tony reassured him.
If Steve noticed the early morning hour of the message, he didn't mention it and Tony wasn't going to offer any explanation for his lack of sleep. Instead, Steve made breakfast for the team before returning to New York; yet another decision they vetoed Tony on. Tony wanted to take off at dawn, but the team argued that if they were already staying the night in London, they might as well take advantage of the time by resting and refueling. Refueling apparently meant making a feast, at least for those who had an enhanced metabolism.
Tony grabbed himself a blueberry yogurt from the fridge and leaned against the counter watching Steve toast the frozen waffles, courtesy of JARVIS's shopping ahead of their arrival, and scramble a large bowl of eggs. The image reminded him of cooking breakfast with Harry and sent an unfamiliar feeling straight to Tony's gut; longing and a loneliness bordering grief, which was ridiculous seeing as he'd only known about his son for two weeks. Yet no matter how he tried to justify it, watching Steve turn the liquid eggs into fluffy mounds of scrambled breakfast made Tony miss his son so much he almost considered ignoring the Dursleys and taking the jet to New York without the team. Almost. Tony might be impulsive but he also valued security, and suddenly, keeping Harry safe became his top priority in life; above his company, above Iron Man, and even above Pepper.
"Did Thor say if he'll be meeting us in New York for the debrief?" Steve asked, drawing Tony out of his thoughts and into the kitchen where he could no longer ignore the sweet smell of bacon. "I think even Fury's planning on attending this one."
Of course Fury will be there.
"Hope you don't mind, I told him he could stay with Jane… wherever she is now." Tossing his empty container of yogurt into the recycling bin, Tony casually plucked a piece of bacon from the plate, satisfied at the side-eye glare Steve sent him. "Jane seems reasonable, though. I'm sure she'll have no problem with you calling her to break up their little Honeymoon phase. Tell her to come along, too. Pepper can show her around the Tower during our little pow-wow."
"It's fine," Steve said, although his sigh afterward sent a very different message. "I'll ask Agent Hill to handle it."
"You do that, Cap." Tony took another piece of bacon, this time narrowly missing the spatula Steve sent his way. Tony let it slide, taking a stack of plates to the long table, too similar to his and Pepper's for his liking, to set the table while the others were starting to stir. Under the guise of helping, and while Steve finished the breakfast, Tony took the opportunity to reveal his slight change of plans. "While we're on the topic of disappointments, I'll be a little late to the debrief. I need to make a small pit stop while we're in London. Nothing major, just need to tie up some loose strings. You guys can take the Quinjet. I'll have JARVIS schedule the SI plane to pick me up and I'll be right behind you guys."
"Sir," JARVIS said from Tony's phone as Tony had no reason to set the AI up in Obadiah's penthouse; classic 'hindsight is 20/20' situation if he had ever seen one. The things JARVIS might have known long before Tony took off for Afghanistan could have had life-changing effects. "Miss. Potts still has the plane. It won't be available for another twelve hours."
Twelve hours? Plus the eight-hour flight from New York meant he wouldn't be leaving until tomorrow morning at the earliest. That wouldn't do.
"Why do we need SI's plane? I didn't think the Quinjet took any damage yesterday?" Natasha asked, sauntering into the kitchen to pour herself a black coffee. Clint and Bruce were on her heels, all three showered, dressed, and looking significantly more rested than Tony felt on any given day throughout the last year. "Actually, I don't remember seeing a single person on our way outta there. It was easier to leave than the whole hike to the compound."
"Maybe we flew over a group of hostiles?" Bruce suggested. "We can always review the exterior cameras to see if–
"There's nothing's wrong with the jet," Steve interrupted, sternly. Balancing two trays stacked with food, he gestured for everyone to follow him to the table where they settled into the same seating arrangements they used in the Tower's common dining room. "Tony is just trying to get out of the debrief tomorrow by making up a fake errand to run in London."
"I don't need your permission," Tony snapped, ignoring Natasha who was quick to laugh about Tony's not-so-subtle aversion to briefings and debriefings. "I told you. One quick detour and I'll be right behind you guys."
The air in the room instantly stilled at Tony and Steve's metaphorical standoff.
"So, Natasha," Steve eventually said, "you noticed the odd behavior yesterday too…"
Tony would never know if the abrupt change of subject meant he had won their little spat. Still, he appreciated it and gave Steve the smallest of nods to ensure it was recognized.
Despite having no intention of eating anything from the meal he had protested, once everyone started passing dishes while analyzing the oddities they encountered during the mission — things none of them would bring up to Hill or Fury, at least not as casually — his plate quickly filled up. Nat started the conversation by asking if anyone thought the hostile' bark felt worse than their bite, triggering Tony to pull up the holographic video from his suit. Together they watched as Tony shot down one enemy after another, noting how each one hardly fought back or used the bare minimum to show some level of effort. They paused the video at Tony's entrance to the building hiding the scepter, all agreeing at the odd sight of the dead soldiers and the scepter being left unguarded. Why would there be soldiers everywhere besides guarding the one irreplaceable, priceless artifact on the grounds?
The reality hit him hard and sent the rest of the team into a brainstorming session on what they thought happened out there. Clint suggested that perhaps they were being tested by SHIELD, which really made the most sense to the team. It certainly explained why the Maximoff twins weren't on the compound. Plus, until yesterday they all presumed SHIELD had the scepter and weapons under lockdown, therefore setting them up for a test target wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility. Natasha also pointed out that it could be why Fury would be at the debrief; to assess their teamwork during the test mission.
The theory didn't sit completely well with Tony, but if nothing else, it was better than the agency losing two valuable artifacts or manipulating the team with the lives of two innocent kids. It also meant his attendance at the debrief was not only not required but they probably wouldn't want him there if Hill and Fury admitted to manipulating them once again. Tony didn't mind a good field test once in a while, except he had more important things waiting for him at home; things Fury was well aware of before sending him halfway across the world.
Tony was helping dry the dishes after breakfast — his first mistake, he should have bolted out of there after the last bite of waffle —, antsy to sneak out to Surrey, when Natasha threw a wrench in his afternoon plans.
"Is no one going to mention the elephant in the room?" She asked. The random bouts of chatter throughout the stopped, leaving the space so silent Tony was sure they could all hear the offbeat whir of his arc reactor.
Clint eventually took the bait. "What elephant, Nat?"
Eyeing Tony, Natasha wrapped her arms over her chest and said, "The coincidence between Harry being British and Tony's sudden, mysterious, errand now that we're in London?"
All eyes were on Tony, waiting for him to either confirm or deny the spy's accusation.
"It's not really any of our business," Bruce replied before anyone else could. Tony made a mental note to get him a great Christmas present this year. "Maybe he wants to get Harry something from home."
"Not in a million years," Tony blurted out, unable to allow them to call the place Harry spent thirteen years being abused 'home'. "I'd bet… and I'd win… a lot of money that Harry would celebrate if I told him the place burned to the ground. Preferably with the residents inside it."
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Steve's jaw clench. "So, you're not visiting his childhood home?"
He could lie. He should lie. Like Bruce said, Harry was none of their business and while denying it might prove them right, it was fully in his rights to do so. Except he didn't want to lie. If he learned anything in the year after New York, he learned — with the help of a few very pricy therapists and almost losing Pepper — the damage he caused himself, and those around him, by bottling things up. He wanted them there with him, both figuratively and physically.
"I didn't say that," He replied carefully. Turning to face the people who had somehow gone from co-workers to friends to family, he steeled his nerves to tell the truth, or as much of it as he could handle. "Harry didn't have the best life growing up. That's all I'll say on the subject. The rest of the story is his to tell. But yesterday… before you all showed up I saw… I don't even know how to explain it. I spent most of the night trying to figure it out and have no scientific reason for–"
"Tony," Bruce said to help put an end to his rambling. Bruce knew him well enough to know once he started down a scientific theory, they'd lose him in it.
"Sorry." Tony shook his head to clear it. There wasn't any better way to tell them besides ripping it off like a bandaid. "I saw someone kill Harry."
"But he wasn't there," Clint not so helpfully pointed out.
"No, shit Birdbrain. Why do you think I spent all night analyzing it?" Tony shot a glare at him, one he hoped conveyed how idiotic he thought Clint's statement truly was. "Obviously no one killed him in the basement of a shady-ass building in the middle of Eastern Europe… I called Rhodey just in case. And Harry hasn't left the tower. What I don't know is why I saw Harry dying in front of me and however it happened, it made it so damn real because God"- he ran his hand down his tired face "-I swear I felt his cold skin when I kneeled down to grab him. It seriously could have been him laying there and I just…"
They didn't finish his sentence when he trailed off, unable to put the churning mess of emotions swimming inside of him into any other words. Clint, of all people, was the first to react by placing his hand on Tony's shoulder, giving a squeeze as if he understood what Tony might be going through. As much as Tony wished he had someone to lean on, someone who might understand and help, he was — not for the first time and certainly not the last — utterly alone in this.
"Let's set the reason for this… vision.. aside," Steve said, getting them all back on track. "What does any of it have to do with London? You said Harry's still at the Tower and he doesn't want anything from his Aunt's house, so why are you going there?"
Tony's jaw clenched so tightly he swore he broke a molar. The vulnerability that came with opening up to others had always been the hardest hurdle for Tony to overcome. He hated the feeling of appearing less than the confident genius his father groomed him to become. It was also why he'd avoided any meaningful friendships. Rhodey was the sole exception until Pepper came around, however both of them had wormed their way into his life through necessity more than choice. Tony was confident he wouldn't be alive today without Rhodey's and Pepper's interventions.
"Because I'm pretty sure I saw a man the size of a whale standing behind him. And his uncle… let's just say we could all fit inside the bastard's shirt with room to spare," Tony spat out before he could change his mind. He might not have been able to tell them about the dark-cloaked figure alongside the whale man. Fury made it clear that side of Harry's life was under wraps and although he enjoyed messing with the professor, he didn't exactly want Dracula out to get him. "Like I said, the story is Harry's to tell to whomever and whenever he chooses. All I can say is that it's not a good one… and I'm sure I only know the tip of the iceberg."
There. Pepper would be proud of him.
He didn't need to see the moment the group made the connection between Harry's rough childhood, the vision, and Vernon Dursley because he heard it instead. Steve, the righter of all wrongs, immediately began pacing while Clint and Nat murmured to each other in the corner; sharp words Tony didn't care to hear slinging from one to the other. Bruce was the only one who had some sort of composure to it, but given the Other Guy, Tony suspected he learned how to handle disturbing news better than most.
"What exactly were you planning on doing this afternoon?" Bruce slowly asked. "Just pay his uncle a friendly visit?"
"Friendly," Tony humorlessly chucked under his breath. "Hardly friendly, but just to give him a warning. Make sure he never tries to find Harry again. Whatever it takes to keep… whatever I saw… from happening to Harry. I need to keep him safe."
"Then it's settled," Clint said, nodding his head to the elevator — the first security change Tony made if he lived in London part-time, a reality he hated to consider, would block the elevator from the main home. Everyone turned to stare at the archer. "We're all going with you. Fury and his debrief can wait. It's not like he can start without us."
Getting everyone on board for an impromptu trip to Surrey was surprisingly easy. Not a single person argued against Clint. They simply changed into their civilian clothes, gathered their gear, and followed Tony to the private garage. Pepper would tell him it was a testament to their growing friendship. Tony didn't think so. Bruce was really the only one Tony had formed some sort of growing friendship with. He was probably tagging along for Tony's moral support. For the rest of the team, he figured Steve wanted to keep an eye on him, Natasha was obsessed with fast cars and was banking on Tony having something she could drive, and Clint likely suggested this whole thing out of his own morbid curiosity. So in Tony's warped mind, outside of Bruce, those were all perfectly normal, non-friendship reasons for them all to pile into the SUV and take off for Surrey together.
The bright day that the early morning had promised was gone by the time they exited the garage. Every inch of the blue sky Tony had seen from the Penthouse window was covered by a sheet of gray clouds that were getting darker by the minute. A soft rain started not far after they left London. Thankfully, Tony had no issues driving on the other side of the road and they were turning onto Privet Drive in record time; much to Steve's displeasure, who spent the entire trip staring at his feet while holding onto the handle above the door like his last lifeline. With all the research Tony did on Harry's past living with the Dursleys, the line of identical houses did not come as a surprise to him. From what he read about Petunia Dursley, she prided herself on living the perfect life with a perfectly manicured lawn and beautiful flower beds, so the fact that they lived in a house that looked like it came from a bad Sims tutorial only made Tony dislike the couple even more. Because as first an orphan and then a wizard, Harry wouldn't have fit into the perfect little family picture Petunia had worked so hard to build here.
"Uh, that doesn't look good." From the back seat, Bruce pointed to a house with a "Lawn of the Month" sign prominently displayed beside the driveway.
Tony didn't have to ask what he meant. None of them did. The lights of at least a half dozen emergency vehicles parked outside the front of a house with a metal number 4 dangling above the empty space where the front would have been if it hadn't been blown to pieces. Three ambulances were swarming with people and they watched as a set of paramedics loaded a stretcher carrying a black body bag into the back of the furthest one. Tony stopped the SUV short of the police blockage to get a good look at what was going on: besides the broken door, every single window was completely shattered, and the right side of the roof collapsed allowing rain to enter the second floor. It was obvious whatever happened here, and whoever did it, had been intentionally violent.
A police officer eventually approached the passenger side of the car and knocked on Natasha's window. As soon as Nat rolled it down, he instructed, "Do you folks live down this way?"
"Actually–" Tony started what he imagined would have been some brilliant excuse to get them access to the house, but Natasha cut him off.
"We're here on official business." All business-like, she pulled a black wallet out of her inside coat pocket and flashed it to the officer. Inside it had a badge Tony didn't recognize opposite an ID with Natasha's picture under an alias Tony didn't recognize. "We were asked to stop by and have a look. I promise we'll be out of your hair as quickly as we can."
The officer scrutinized the ID for longer than Tony felt comfortable. Tony didn't recognize the organization she was supposedly employed by, and he was sure the Officer would see straight through them. To her credit, Natasha didn't break a drop of sweat or give any other outward sign of nerves. Of course, she was a fully trained assassin spy. Tony suspected she could lie at the drop of a hat without a single lie detector test on the planet able to detect it.
After what felt like an hour, the officer returned her wallet. "Our crime scene guys are just finishing up," he explained, "but it's still considered an active crime scene so don't go touching anything."
Nat nodded her head. "Anything we should know about it?"
"An obvious break-in with no apparent motive yet." The man outside gravely shook his head. "Two fatalities – both owners of the home. Cause of death is unknown. There was one injured minor. He's not been much help, unfortunately. Keeps going on about some kind of magic. Probably a bit of PTSD after the event. We're still waiting for a social worker to arrive."
"We'll steer clear of the kid," Natasha calmly said and elbowed Tony to drive when he missed a second officer waving them through the blockade. "Thank you, officer."
Once the window was securely in place, Steve grabbed the wallet from the center console and asked, "What was that?"
Nat shrugged. "I thought I should grab my UK credentials, just in case. Thought we could use it to scare them a bit." Looking over her shoulder at Steve, she added, "You're welcome, by the way. Now we can see what the hell happened here."
Two of the ambulances were just leaving, probably on their way to the morgue, giving Tony a perfect parking spot across the street from number 4 and a better view of the situation they faced. Somehow it looked worse up close than it did from the blocked-off perimeter. For one, soot and ash coated the frame of where the door used to be. The door sat at the bottom of the walkway in what seemed like at least a million splintery pieces. Underneath the pile were patches of scorched grass leading into the home. Whoever broke in used some kind of explosion to do so, which seemed extreme for a quiet neighborhood in the small town of Little Whinging. Then there was the giant hole in the roof they were attempting to cover with a tarp. Upon closer inspection, it wasn't caving in as Tony originally assumed, but pushed outward as if something burst out, trying to leave. Who would leave through the roof? What was in the room below that area? Tony had a feeling it was Harry's room.
Tony recalled what the officer had said about the injured minor, surely Harry's cousin: keeps going on about some kind of magic. In his very limited experience with magic, it seemed possible magicians — or were they wizards — could cause this damage. It certainly aligned with what he'd seen done to Lily Evan's home the night she and James Potter were killed. And it also matched the classroom attack the professor had possibly been involved in. Did the same dark wizards Harry was hiding from kill his aunt and uncle? But why if Harry wasn't even here? Unless they didn't know he'd left; and wasn't that the goal of Harry's plan?
As if reading some limited part of Tony's mind, Bruce broke the heavy silence first, "Do you think whoever did this was looking for Harry? They somehow know he's related to you?"
"I don't see how." Tony continued to stare at the house his son had miserably grown up in trying to find some empathy for the former residents. He came up empty. "Stranger things have happened, though. I spent three months in an Afghanistan cave because my Godfather put a bounty on my head. All it takes is one person in a rough patch of life to talk."
He couldn't tell them about the dark wizards or even the war Harry's mother and stepfather had been a part of; not when they were out in the open as they were. He'd let them believe a leak was possible on his side of the equation even if everyone who knew about Harry being his son — his legal team, Fury, Pepper — or had seen him arrive at the Towers, like security or the reception team, also knew he was still there. They had no reason to visit the Dursleys looking for him.
"I have to see what's in there. You guys can stay here if you have any issues with it," Tony muttered, throwing his door open.
He didn't wait to hear if any of them followed as he walked up across the street, acting like he belonged there. In his life, he'd quickly learned that attitude was more than half the battle. Most often, if he acted like he belonged wherever he was trying to get into, people were more likely to leave him alone. Here, he made it past the last ambulance, pausing for a second to hear the boy inside groaning about the men in robes using wands, before he got stopped by an officer coming out of the door.
"Excuse me, sir," the man called out to him. His voice reminded Tony of Jarvis, making his heart ache for his old butler. If only Tony could talk to him now. He always knew exactly what to do. Fortunately, Tony didn't have to deal with the wayward officer because the team had followed him, and Natasha quickly took the lead in showing the officer her credentials at the same time she all but demanded he fill her in on everything they knew about the Dursleys. The officer hesitated, but eventually pulled out his notes, at which point Natasha sent Tony a subtle nod; giving him the all-clear to explore.
The two men securing a tarp over the open doorway didn't give Tony a second glance when he slipped through them, officially entering the Dursley residence. The place his son had been living until a few weeks ago. Like the outside of the house, nothing inside immediately screamed 'a child was being neglected here'. It was a small home, but aside from the horrendous decor, consisting of large printed floral wallpaper and more paneling than Tony had ever seen in his life, it seemed like a pleasant home to raise a small family in. The stairs leading up to the second floor were covered in the same soot as the casing of the front door. Drops of blood coated the carpet on the stairs, leading all the way up — or down, depending on where the Dursleys were when the break-in occurred, however the lack of blood between the stairs and the missing front door suggested they were taken upstairs.
Every part of Tony wanted to follow the trail to see where the blood led and he probably would have had he not seen the gold door handle sticking out on the door leading to the space under the stairs. Harry's voice filled his ears, recalling what his son had said during one of their last conversations: It was loads better than the cupboard I used to sleep in… it was under the stairs. His kid had slept in a cupboard… that exact cupboard. His feet moved almost on their own and suddenly Tony was standing in front of a door shorter than Tony with a slight slant to match the angle of the staircase above and a grate — for fresh air, his mind unhelpfully supplied — in the center. Ignoring the small tremble in his hand he pulled the door open, instantly regretting his decision. A thin tattered mattress took up most of the floor space, covered by an equally tattered blanket. Against his better judgment, he pulled the cord for the light, illuminating the space. On the left side wall was a set of wooden shelves holding everything from bleach to cleaning rags, everything someone would expect to find in a cleaning cupboard. But it was the picture on the far wall that sent his stomach straight to his feet. The picture showed a crayon-drawn stick figure lying on the mattress in that very cupboard with three small spiders hanging overhead. In handwriting from a child no older than six or seven, the words "Harry's Room" were written at the top. Tony slammed the door closed, focusing on not vomiting his breakfast right there on the floor; he probably would be asked to leave the crime scene, and he still had places to go.
The kitchen, dining room, and living room looked normal enough for someone who made what Vernon Dursley had, even if something Tony couldn't put his finger on nagged in the back of his head as wrong. It took until he was in the upstairs hallway that it hit him: the walls downstairs and the hallway were filled with pictures of the family — the whale of a man he knew to be Vernon, his horse-like wife Petunia, and their equally large son, Dudley. Harry did not appear in any of the pictures out on display, and worse, something inside of him knew none existed. If he hadn't already known, nothing around the home suggested that the Dursley's nephew lived with them.
The upstairs housed a moderate master bedroom, decorated as gaudy as the rest of the house, with an ensuite bathroom and a decent-sized guest room next to them considering the size of the home on the right side of the hallway. A room filled to the brim with a large television, computer, and enough video games to fill three bookshelves he determined was Dudley's was the first room on the other side of the hallway with a small bathroom between it and the last room on the floor — Harry's room and where the trail of blood spatter led into. Like the rest of the rooms on the floor, the door to the room was closed but unlike the other, this room had three padlocks and two sliding locks on the outside of the door. They had locked their nephew, Tony's son, in his bedroom. If there had been a fire in the house, his kid would have been trapped inside because he had no doubt they'd leave him locked in while they rushed out to safety. Feeling his anger growing, Tony had to count to ten before opening the door.
The first thing he noticed about the room was that the entire ceiling was gone and a slight scent of electricity filled the air. The trail of blood that he followed up the stairs ended in the center of the room and even though there wasn't any extra blood, he knew the Dursleys were killed there. How and why weren't his concern; he'd leave that to the authorities. Looking around the room, the second thing he noticed was the dismal condition of everything in the bedroom. From the mattress no better than the one in the cupboard to the rickety desk and lopsided chair, it looked worse than hand-me-downs; like they had intentionally found the worst furniture to give to Harry. Out of nowhere, Tony badly wanted a drink. Something strong to help him forget the conditions his son had been left in while he had been busy throwing his riches for the best; the best parties, the best clothes, the best liquor.
There wasn't a lot of personalization to the room, not that Tony blamed the teen. If he were forced to live here, he'd want to avoid personally connecting to it in any way possible. But there were little things here or there that showed a teenage boy had once lived in it. The wall above the headboard of the bed had a hand-drawn sketch of an owl — random, but maybe owls were Harry's favorite animal — and one of a house so lopsided it couldn't actually exist, in a field filled with small little creatures scattered through the grass. Two figures hovered on what looked like common brooms with a ball floating, or perhaps thrown, between them. He also found a wardrobe along the side still filled with exactly two pairs of torn jeans and four threadbare shirts rolled up on the bottom, two black robe-like coats with a red emblem hanging up, and a drawer filled with a red and gold scarf and matching ties. Finally, opposite of the closet was a small bookcase filled with novels and textbooks, including a few upper-level science and math books. Perhaps Harry wasn't as far off from Tony's intelligence as he'd first thought and the kid simply needed some direction and support. Between whatever little help Harry would have gotten from his aunt and uncle and then being thrown into a medieval magical school, Harry had little hope of succeeding in traditional schooling.
"Tony?" Startled, Tony turned to find Clint standing at the doorway, his eyes wide probably thinking the same evil thoughts Tony was. "I think Nat's reaching the end she can with the guy downstairs. They're ready to wrap up and he mentioned one last walkthrough."
Tony nodded, unable to express his gratitude for his teammate looking out for him.
Clint took two steps in, meeting Tony in the center. "So this is… it's uh…"
"My kid was sleeping here, Clint. In a room barely qualifying as bedroom and five… five… locks on the outside!" Tony spat out, the disdain for the situation laced thickly in his voice. He looked down at his feet where the drops of blood ended, but no other sign of any other violence in the room. They weren't tortured or bled out. In fact, given the rest of the room, Tony had to assume they had been knocked unconscious somehow and simply… died. He looked back at Clint, his rage-filled eyes meeting the other man's. "God, Clint, I wish… I wish…" What did he wish? "I wish I could bring those fuckers back to life so I can kill them all over again."
Of all things he expected, never did he expect Clint to clasp his hand on Tony's shoulder and say, "Me too… Me too. We should get outta here before we draw the wrong kind of attention."
It would be the smart move. At some point, someone would recognize one of them, and Tony didn't need them snooping around some random crime scene wondering what the Avengers were doing there. But he hesitated like he was about to forget something important.
"Hold on."
He scanned the room again, and when his eyes landed on the drawings on the wall he casually pulled them down. He grabbed as many books as he could hold, then went to the wardrobe and, skipping over the ratty clothing, grabbed the scarf and robes. Whatever they were, they looked important.
Continuing in the Oz-like world he'd somehow found himself in, Tony allowed Clint to lead him downstairs, through the tarp, and out to the front lawn where Nat, Steve, and Bruce were waiting for them. A heavier rain had started during his tour of Harry's former life but if it bothered his teammates, none of them complained about it.
Nat was the first to meet them at the walkway, primed and ready to give an update on what she'd learned. "From the sounds of it, there's still a lot of speculation of what happened last night, but I guess a piece of good news is that throughout the entire conversation, Harry's name never came up. In fact, they didn't even mention a nephew or another boy living here."
"That's because they literally locked him away! Five locks to be exact, not counting whatever might have been on the crawlspace he lived in before the bedroom!" Tony yelled at his team. He should have been grateful, breathing easier knowing his son wouldn't be pulled through this mess. Yet all he felt was a deep, dark rage. Rage at the people who did this to a child… to his child… people who were now dead. "As far as I'm concerned, whatever happened to them couldn't have happened to two more deserving people."
He went to take off, needing to get away from the house and anything reminding him of those people, but Bruce caught his arm. "You alright, Tony?"
"I'm fine, Brucie," he lied. He yanked his arm out of the man's grasp, balancing himself to prevent the stack of Harry's measly belongings from tumbling to the muddy ground. Fury had said Harry might be a distraction, and he was right. Seeing where Harry lived for thirteen years because Tony didn't know about him had been a kick in the gut. And now, standing there in the rain, Tony vowed to never put his son in that position again. He'd leave the Avengers behind if he had to. With a look of pure determination on his face and more sure than anything he'd ever been in his life, he looked at his team and said, "Let's go. I need to get home to my son."
Notes:
When I started this fic, I had no intention of following up with the Dursleys but they were kind of this lingering plot line I wanted to tie up. Since Tony was in Europe anyway, it made sense to do it now.
Chapter 20: Peter Parker
Notes:
I changed Peter's history so he's turning 16 in this fic, right after Harry turns 15. Since Civil war and Homecoming didn't happen, Spider-Man got Tony's attention after patrolling around the clean-up sites from the Battle of New York and began a mentorship.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The first punch came flying in from his right, barely grazing the side of Harry's cheek as he ducked and dove around his opponent in one fluid movement. Ignoring the small tongue from the small contact, Harry shook his head and whipped around to face the other man just in time to block a series of swings from his right, then his left, and then his right again, dodging all of them with the same swift movements he used to chase down the snitch from his broom. He was just starting to feel confident enough to take a swing of his own when, suddenly, his legs were swept out from underneath him, sending the teen falling on his back with a hard umph.
"You did great," Rhodey's voice called out from above Harry's head, right as his face came into view. A wide smile was on his face as he stared down Harry, who had just knocked the wind out of him for what felt like the dozenth time since they started training two days ago.
When Pepper first told Harry that her trip was turning out more complicated than she originally expected, pushing her one-night trip to three, Harry had been nervous at the thought of spending those nights with James Rhodes. Despite being Tony's best friend, Tony had first referred to the man as Harry's uncle, and the only real uncle Harry knew was Uncle Vernon.
It turned out he had been worried for almost nothing.
Admittedly, the first night had been rough. They ordered cheeseburgers, then sat awkwardly on the sofa in silence and pretended to watch a movie together. Harry didn't recognize the title and couldn't recall anything about it. Things changed the next morning when Rhodey offered to give Harry a fighting lesson after breakfast. Harry didn't immediately agree to it, but the thought of repeating the night on the sofa pushed him to do it. Plus, considering he actually had people out there trying to kill him, having a non-magical way to protect himself wouldn't be a bad thing.
They started in the gym. Rhodey explained all the machines to Harry, how to safely use each of them, and the best schedule for an effective workout — some combination of legs, arms, core, and cardio to follow. After lunch, they moved into the mats for the actual sparring, as Rhodey called it. Harry was absolutely horrible. So much so, he thought Rhodey would eventually give up on him. Except, he didn't, and Harry not only improved throughout the day, but he ended up enjoying it so much, he convinced Rhodey to do one more lesson that morning, even though Pepper had gotten home a few hours ago.
"You have some amazing natural reflexes, which you definitely didn't get from Tony. He was an absolute mess when we started sparring. Don't believe him if he tries to tell you otherwise. I have video evidence I know he'd like buried, and I have no problems digging up," Rhodey said, holding his hand out to help Harry stand. "Now you just got to practice keeping track of your feet. You were so focused on where my hands went, you forgot about the entire lower half of your body."
"I'll keep that in mind." Harry twisted his shoulder to crack his tight back.
"No hard feelings?" Rhodey bent to look Harry in the eye as he asked it. Harry shook his head, earning him a clap on his shoulder. "Good. It'll give you something to work on before my next visit. Nat or Clint can definitely help you there. Just watch out for Nat, she doesn't understand the term 'beginner' and likes to teach through immersion."
A foreign feeling filled Harry's chest at the reminder of Rhodey leaving. With Pepper home, it made sense for Rhodey to return to his own life. Still, Harry enjoyed getting to know his pseudo-uncle. He reminded Harry of what his relationship with Sirius might have been like if Sirius had stayed with Harry rather than gone after Pettigrew.
Picking up on Harry's sudden change of mood, Rhodey wrapped his arm around Harry and led him towards the glass door separating the mats from the weight room. "Let's head over to the gym for a bit. I'll walk you through all the machines. Maybe you can build some muscle on your scrawny ass."
Unfortunately, their time in the gym was cut short by Rhodey's cell phone ringing after the second machine. Although there were plenty of instances where the Muggle world surpassed the Wizarding World, especially in technology, the constant availability with cellphones didn't appeal to Harry. In the few weeks of living in the Tower, he'd seen plenty of examples of Pepper or Tony being interrupted by their phone, usually for work. Pepper took at least one call at dinner every night, then another two between dinner and bed. On the nights Tony didn't hide away in his lab, he usually paced around Pepper's office, talking firmly to whoever had the displeasure of bothering him. Harry, on the other hand, had hardly touched his new phone; outside of Tony's frantic-sounding call last night, where he assured Harry was fine and would be home 'soon'. Of course, Harry didn't have anyone to casually call. It might be different if he could contact Hermione, or if Ron used a muggle telephone.
"Ah, shit," Rhodey said, looking at the caller ID on his phone. He sounded as disappointed at the interruption as Harry felt, further proving Harry's point on inconvenient technology. "Sorry, I really have to take this. How about I meet you at the Penthouse for lunch with Pepper?"
"Yeah, it's fine," Harry lied. "I can use a quick shower first, anyway."
Distracted by his thoughts on his changing relationship with his pseudo-Uncle, Harry made his way down the now familiar lift, unaware he'd pressed the wrong button until he walked out to the sight of Tony's lab through the glass walls instead of the vestibule to the penthouse. He'd gone one floor too far.
"JARVIS, aren't you supposed to know where I'm going?" Harry complained to the empty space. "You could have selected the right one for me."
If JARVIS answered, Harry didn't hear because just as he was headed to the stairs, a clunk coming from somewhere in the workshop caught his attention. If Tony was still wherever he'd gone, no one else should be down there.
"Is Tony home yet?" Harry asked in a whisper. Instinctively, he grabbed for his wand and silently cursed when he felt nothing besides the empty pocket of his new gym shorts.
"Mr. Stark's location is not available at the moment," JARVIS cryptically replied.
Harry quietly stepped up to the door. His hand hovered over the knob, ready to enter, as he debated whether to check it out. "Do I have access down here? It won't lock down or something if I try to open it, right?"
"You may enter the main area of the laboratory; however, there are areas you are not permitted to enter," JARVIS explained. "I have temporarily muted the alarms for you, and anything restricted will simply not open. I record any unauthorized attempts, which are available to Mr. Stark to review."
Deciding it wouldn't be the first time he got caught somewhere he shouldn't, he pulled the main door open, eyes scanning deep into the separate workspaces for any movement. It didn't take long for him to find the intruder hunched over a set of glassware on a workbench tucked in the far corner near the office area with a sign above it that read "Kiddie Korner". At least half a dozen amber bottles were scattered on the bench top, between three hot plates, each holding a large glass container filled with a white, possibly sticky substance, and two balances.
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, incredulously.
Harry had been hoping to sneak up on the mystery man, but he must have made some kind of noise approaching because the intruder turned around before Harry actually said anything. The man — or boy, now that Harry got a better look at him — was about Harry's age, tall and lanky, but more fit. His mop of curly brown hair matched his brown eyes, and he was wearing jeans and a red t-shirt with smudges of black across it. The boy eyed Harry with the same skepticism, and the more they watched each other, the more Harry thought he looked like a younger version of Tony. So much so, if Harry's existence hadn't legitimately surprised Tony, Harry would have guessed he had a secret brother. Clearly, whoever the kid was, he'd been there enough to know his way around.
"Oh!" The boy exclaimed in the least threatening tone Harry had ever heard. "I was working on… ah… well, you see, Mr. Stark lets me… Who are you, again? You must know Mr. Stark pretty well to have access here."
"You can say that," Harry replied, a little flustered at the kid's jumbled mess of an explanation. He shifted his body to get a better look at the work on the bench, but for each move Harry took, the kid immediately countered it. "And what about you? Do you often come here when no one else is around?"
"I'm Mr. Stark's intern. I'm here to… check on… a project. It can't wait until Wednesday." The kid practically puffed his chest out as he said it. "I'm Peter. Peter Parker."
It took a second for Harry to recognize the name Tony had mentioned the day he left. So, Peter was a teenager who looked more like Tony's kid than Harry, a kid who worked with him in the workshop… a place Tony obviously valued and left Harry feeling more stupid than studying with Hermione. The kid that Tony made clear to Pepper he had to cancel plans because Harry showed up on his front doorstep.
But Harry didn't want to talk about his insecurities, so instead he skeptically said, "Tony never mentioned having an intern."
"I just got home from camp." The kid shifted as Harry tried to get another look behind him. "You see, I got into this amazing robotics camp… but, uh, I… wasn't able to go at first, except at the last minute Mr. Stark sponsored me. Uh… anyway, I got back last Sunday."
"A robotics camp? So you're a genius too." Harry said. It had been a statement, not a question but Peter shrugged in response. "If you haven't already guessed, Tony's not here."
"I figured he was still gone." Peter chuckled and pointed to the 'Kiddie Korner' sign above the workbench. Up close, Harry could see Tony's hurried writing showing it had been a last-minute addition. "His text the other day said I wouldn't be able to miss my new workstation, and he'd know if I touched a single thing outside of this bench."
"Sounds like Tony."
Peter turned a split second before the contraptions he was working on beeped, giving Harry the perfect opportunity to check out the project. The white liquid inside the glass containers was bubbling, not unlike a potion in a cauldron over the fire and way too much like Snape's class for his liking. Peter, though, had no hesitation in moving from container to container, stirring each one with a glass rod just like Harry had in his Potions kit, in a controlled manner that would make Snape or Hermione proud, as he dispensed a clear liquid from one of the amber bottles into them. Watching him continue to stir the mixture, he once again reminded Harry of Tony. They both had the same expression while concentrating on their work. Harry refused to admit the jealousy growing in his stomach. At the end of what must have been the last step, Peter clicked off the hot plates and turned to Harry.
"These need to rest for a bit before I can store them," Peter told him as he grabbed his thumb over his shoulder.
"Congratulations," Harry sarcastically stated. He didn't know why Peter felt Harry needed to know such a thing.
"It's just…" he trailed off, a little jumpy as he said it. "I'm going upstairs to get some air while I wait. Want to come with?"
"Upstairs?" Harry asked, more intrigued than confused. The balcony off the party floor was the only place he'd seen that led outside, and Tony made it clear the door was locked and alarmed.
"You've been upstairs, right?' Peter grinned, amused at Harry's confusion.
"Since there are ten floors above us, you'll need to be more specific."
Peter nodded, determinedly. "I'll take that as a no. Follow me."
Peter took off in the opposite direction of the lift Harry usually used, rambling out loud about his robotics camp, as if he simply assumed Harry would follow him — which, of course, Harry did. They zig-zagged around the workbenches, computer stations, and a small area of more, mostly empty, offices, ending on the other side of the floor in front of a different set of lifts.
"These are mostly for deliveries or any other random visitors if Mr. Stark actually allowed random visitors," Peter said, practically reading Harry's mind.
Unlike the lifts Harry had been exclusively using, the scanner on the outside of this one read Peter's badge, not his fingerprint. Similar to private lifts, the buttons on the inside were connected to his badge access. Besides the lab, Peter had access to the ground floor, the cafeteria, and more SI floors than Harry thought any teenager should have. He couldn't get to the Penthouse, but all the Avengers floors above were available, except for the armory; an odd choice for an intern.
Peter selected the top floor, one of the few that Harry wasn't allowed onto. According to Pepper, that floor held Thor's quarters on one side and a pretty extensive storage facility on the other. Neither of which sounded like a place to get some air. Still, Harry went along, and Peter talked nonstop the entire trip. He didn't even stop when the lift opened up into the first darkened corridor Harry had seen in the Tower. A few twists and turns brought them past the locked door to Thor's side of the floor — easily identified by the giant hammer on the outer door; Tony certainly wasn't subtle — and then through the outer edge of the storage area of mostly old files, unused parts, and prototypes of things Harry had seen in the Avengers workshop. Peter didn't mention if he had worked on any of the projects they saw.
The nondescript metal door at the end of the corridor gave no sign telling them where it led, and by Harry's best estimate, there shouldn't be much of anything on the other side of it since most of the floor area seemed to be accounted for.
But Peter didn't slow down and, thankfully, Harry didn't mention his growing suspicion because the door opened up to a rooftop garden Aunt Petunia would have died for. The garden unfolded in layers. Wooden bridges arched across narrow streams that wound through the space like they'd always been there, their surfaces shimmering with sunlight filtering through the leaves of red maples and tall bamboo stands. There were orchids blooming from low, moss-covered stone beds. Wind chimes rang softly from the tucked-away corners, adding to the serenity of it all. Tiny lanterns lined the paths, unlit in the afternoon sun, yet somehow still seemed to illuminate his way through it all.
How they sustained such a vibrant space without the help of magic, Harry didn't know; probably more technology. Technology and magic were apparently two sides of the same coin.
As they wandered around, Harry learned Peter was almost sixteen and went to a high school for science geniuses. He was on the Academic Decathlon team, another genius thing Hermione would fall in love with doing, and began working as Tony's intern when Tony officially moved to New York. They usually spent Wednesdays and Fridays tinkering — and that was the exact word Peter used — in his lab or down in the garage. At least they had until Peter went off to the Robotics camp, returning only to be told Harry was taking up most of Tony's time. He didn't say how he gained access to the Avengers floors, and as much as Harry wanted to know, he didn't ask.
Things got a little too close to home when Peter told Harry how he lived with his aunt and uncle after his parents died in a plane crash, and then how his uncle died a little over a year ago. Unlike Harry's situation, Peter's aunt raised him like her own, and based on how Peter spoke of Aunt May, he loved her like his mother. They paused in the middle of the wooden bridge crossing over a small stream that ran throughout the gardens. Harry leaned his forearms on the bridge, taking in the freeing feeling of being outside, up in the air, and almost alone. Eventually, Peter came up to Harry's left, mirroring his position against the bridge.
"I'm Harry. Harry Evans," Harry said, surprised at how introducing himself under his new alias didn't feel nearly as wrong as he'd expected. A fact that equally terrified and calmed him.
"It's nice to meet you, Harry," Peter replied. "So, how do you know Mr. Stark?"
"I don't–"
"You see, at first I thought you knew Ms. Potts," Peter said, like knowing Harry's name had broken the wall holding his curiosity at bay. "I'm pretty sure Mr. Stark mentioned something about her having a cousin… or maybe an aunt… a relative of some sort in England, and it would explain the accent. But… to be in Mr. Stark's lab, you would have to know him pretty well, especially when he's not even in the country."
Harry frowned. "To be fair, JARVIS said I couldn't touch anything in there."
"Then I thought," Peter continued, if he heard Harry, he made no show of it, "maybe you're another intern, even though I don't think the SI interns have ever been in Mr. Stark's lab. But then you looked more than a little overwhelmed at my setup, and it wasn't even the most complex part of the process. Most of it was standard chemistry stuff… beakers, hot plates, and a few reagents."
"I'm not an intern," Harry snapped. The kid was like the no-maj version of Hermione. Once he started down a path, there was no stopping him. "Tony is… he's…" Harry turned to look over the bridge, hoping in vain it'd make admitting the truth out loud. "He's my dad."
"Really?" Peter said. His voice dripped with distrust of Harry's statement. "I didn't know he had a kid."
"Neither did he." Harry thought he had muttered the statement too low for Peter to hear him, but the sad way Peter looked at him, he had been wrong. "It's kind of… new… for both of us. He'll probably be mad at me for telling you."
"You can trust me," Peter said. At Harry's doubtful glare, he added, "I have a lot of NDAs signed. I'm sure one of them covers it."
"Tony sure does like his NDAs."
Harry pushed himself up off the bridge and turned to lean his back against it, crossing his arms firmly across his chest. Peter followed suit, matching Harry's posture.
"I bet Mr. Stark is a good dad."
Harry laughed. He hadn't meant to; it just slipped. "Funny. You're the only one who thinks so, Tony included. He says I was better off growing up without him."
Or at least it was what he'd said before he learned about magic; about Voldemort killing his parents as a baby and him living in the Dursleys' cupboard for ten years. However, Harry wouldn't tell Peter about any of that.
"Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trust a toddler with Mr. Stark," Peter emphatically said. "But you're, what? Thirteen?"
"Almost fifteen."
"Really?" Harry could almost see the calculations in Peter's head as the other boy gave him a once-over. Harry really hated how no one believed he was just shy of fifteen. "Yeah, you'll be fine. I bet he freaked out a bit at first."
Harry thought back to the awkward first week when he hardly saw Tony. Hopefully, with the whole magic secret behind them, things would improve.
"There you are. Lunch is ready," a female voice called from behind them. Pepper stood near the door in a casual set of blue jeans and a short-sleeved striped shirt; very different from her usual day wear. Her face softened when she noticed Peter beside him. "Hi, Peter. I didn't know you were here today. You're more than welcome to join us for lunch."
Peter beamed. "I'd love to!"
Lunch was interesting. Peter's reaction as they entered the penthouse — likely similar to Harry's first impression of it — made it clear he hadn't been there before. But as new as the setting was to Peter, he spoke to Pepper and Rhodey like they were old friends. Or maybe his ability to make friends with just about anyone was just Peter's personality. He had told Harry his entire life story less than thirty minutes after they met.
Peter talked all about his robotics camp, something Pepper knew Peter had recently returned from. Although Harry had little to add to the conversation, he found himself captivated by Peter's explanation of how he created a robot using a box of metal and wires. Hearing Harry's interest in the subject, Peter offered to ask Tony if Harry could spend some time in the lab during his next intern day.
The offer had finally broken whatever ice had been between them. By the end of lunch, they somehow wound up hanging out in the sitting area of Harry's bedroom after Pepper suggested Harry show Peter around. It reminded him of weekends spent with Ron and Hermione in Gryffindor common room, only instead of playing Wizard's Chess in a dark castle, Harry was learning how to play Mario Kart — something Harry had watched Dudley and Piers play all the time — in his bright airy bedroom high in a city skyscraper. The reminder of Ron made Harry miss his friends even more. Making a friend here wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, even if he didn't fully believe he'd be living there long term.
"As much as I love the retro console I repaired, this is seriously awesome. These graphics are amazing. Don't get me wrong, it's not the best on the market, but they've come a long way," Peter said, ramming his selected motorcycle into the computer player Princess Peach's car. In the short time they had been in Harry's room, Peter had admired the latest game system Tony had gotten him no less than five times. At least this time, he hadn't rattled off all the specs and looked at Harry like he had three heads for not understanding a word of it.
With his elbows out and moving them in the same direction he wanted his toad character to go, Harry let out a moan, urging his car around the banana in the road. "I'll have to take your word on it."
Peter let out a soft laugh. "Do they not have video games in England?"
"No, they do…" Harry trailed off, trying to find the best way to explain his situation without giving too much away and close enough to the truth that he wouldn't feel bad about lying. "My… erm… my aunt and uncle just didn't like me playing it."
"Ah, I get it." Peter bit his lip as his character — King Bowser, Harry had been told — dodged the red shell sent at him by Yoshi in second place and crossed the line first, followed closely by Yoshi, Mario, and Harry coming in second, third, and fourth, respectively. "My friend Ned has a cousin with parents like that. They think everything made in this century is pure evil and are not to be trusted. He has to spend two weeks with them every summer. His stories are both hilarious and horrifying."
If he could, Harry would have told him about living in a society still stuck in the Middle Ages. He couldn't, of course. He couldn't really tell Peter much of anything about his life before showing up in New York. Thankfully, a knock on Harry's door saved him from struggling to find something to say.
"Well, look at this," Tony announced from the doorway, taking both boys by surprise. Two heavy shadows under his eyes and the wildly unkempt facial hair growing between his usual gotten gave away the pure exhaustion radiating off of him. Despite this, he genuinely smiled when his gaze landed on Harry. "I'm gone for a few days, and you are conspiring with the other teenager in the Tower. Hey, Pete. I take it you found your way through the lab. Everything ok down there? You didn't blow anything up, did you?"
"Um. Yeah… I mean, no… I mean… everything went fine, Mr. Stark."
Tony slowly came into the room, his expression becoming more amused with each word Peter stuttered. Taking a seat on the reclining chair beside the television, he placed a duffle bag at his feet, leaned against the back of the chair, and slowly closed his eyes, looking more vulnerable than the infamous Tony Stark or the iconic Iron Man should.
Cracking an eye open, he asked Peter, "What do you say you come by tomorrow morning and we'll catch up on the work we missed this week? You can tell me all about camp."
They agreed on Peter stopping by after lunch, and all too soon Harry and Tony were alone in Harry's bedroom. Suddenly, the fact that his father had been mentoring another boy, completely oblivious to his own son suffering halfway across the world, hit Harry in his gut. It could have been him. It should have been him. Sitting there in an uncomfortable silence, Harry stared at the floor, running his bare feet across the soft blue rug.
"So," Tony eventually said. He lifted himself up to rest his hands on his thigh. The action seemed to take more energy for the man than it should have. "You met Peter. You told him about–" his hands shifted between them "–about us?"
"Yeah," Harry admitted, no point in trying to deny it. "It's kind of a long story."
Tony dismissively waved his hand. "Yeah, that's fine. I would've introduced you this week once you settled in a bit more."
After a bit of prodding and reassuring Harry that he did truly want to know about his last few days, Harry told Tony all about Rhodey's lessons, finding Peter, and the visit to the rooftop garden. Harry asked about his mission. Tony had gotten home not long after Pepper that morning but had been debriefing all day. He offered little else on it and changed the topic by asking if Harry had heard anything from Snape. Harry, who intended to avoid any talk of magic for as long as possible, was then forced to tell him about Snape's short visit last night to bring Harry a calming draught to help with his psychosomatic tremors — a bottle Tony took possession of to analyze and make sure Harry used —, a book on the history of magic, and directions to enter the American wizarding markets, which Tony said they'd be visiting before Malibu because he refused to wait another day ignorant of his son's world.
All-in-all, Tony's return wasn't nearly as nerve-wracking as Harry had been preparing himself for. There was no sudden declaration of refusing to house a magical kid in his home, or disowning Harry for it. If anything, it seemed Tony came home with more determination to get to know Harry and bond than before.
That alone should have served as some sort of clue what was coming — life for Harry always came with strings attached — yet he was taken by surprise when Tony shifted his weight awkwardly in his chair, then said, "Listen, Harry. There's one more thing I need to talk to you about."
"O-ok."
Tony picked up the duffle bag from his feet and held it for Harry. Considering he thought it held Tony's clothes from his mission, it was significantly lighter than Harry expected it to be.
"The team needed a place to crash the night after the mission. I took them to a place my godfather used to own. In some sick twist of fate, he left it to me in his will." Tony inhaled dramatically, as if preparing himself for battle. Harry knew they were about to fight again, so he mentally prepared himself for the other foot to drop. "It's in London."
"Oh." Harry averted his eyes down to the bag resting on his lap. Trying to hide the small tremble of his hands, he unzipped the bag to find the two drawings he used to keep above his bed and his school robes, tie, and scarf. "So you went…" he trailed off, unable to say the actual words out loud. The idea of Tony meeting with his aunt and uncle, seeing the house… the conditions… he grew up in was beyond embarrassing.
Had Uncle Vernon removed the locks from the outside of the door? If not, did Tony notice them in his tour of the house? Did he notice how Harry wasn't in any of the pictures on the walls? He'd made it clear how much the Dursleys hated him, so that shouldn't bother Harry, yet that fact didn't stop the heat from creeping up his neck and cheeks.
"Yeah," Tony confirmed. "I wasn't going to go, but you know me–" he held his hands out like 'what can you do with me,' "–ideas are hard to stop once the first flame is there."
"It's fine," Harry lied. "I'm sure my Aunt had nothing but great things to say about me being gone. Or did she just go straight to calling my mum a slag–"
"That's a new one."
"It means–"
"I know what it means, Harry. I just don't remember Lily having that vibe around her," Tony said, sadly. He reached out and placed his hand on Harry's knee. "But I didn't get to talk to your aunt."
Looking at the items clearly from his bedroom, Harry frowned. "Did you break in?"
"No," Tony replied, solemnly. "They're dead, Harry."
Before Harry had time to even breathe, Tony pulled up a holographic display using his phone, displaying the article with a picture of No. 4 Privet Drive practically blown apart. His eyes scanned the words but didn't really comprehend any of them — a possible burglary gone wrong, arson inspection, two adult fatalities.
"What about Dudley?" He asked warily.
"Your cousin?" Harry nodded. "The officers told Natasha he's alright… at least physically."
"Physically?"
It was Tony's turn to nod. "Uh, I'm assuming he'll be undergoing some sort of mental health counseling for rambling on about magic people hunting them down. There was no mention of you."
Knots instantly formed in Harry's stomach. Dudley had been orphaned because of him. And although they were far from a happy family, Harry hated adding blood to his hands. First his mum and James, then Quirrell and Cedric, and now his relatives.
"I take it they were looking for you?" Tony cautiously asked, almost begging Harry to say he had nothing to do with it. But rather than reassure Tony, his answer was only going to make it worse.
"No." Harry shook his head. "They'd been watching the house for a while and by now would've known I was long gone. It's a message for me."
"A message?"
"Mhmmm. A message that they'll kill whoever they need to get to me." The knot growing in Harry's stomach quickly turned to fire, transforming his guilt into anger. "The Dursleys today, the Grangers tomorrow — those are Hermione's muggle parents. If they could get Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, it's not a stretch to assume they'd go after Hermione's family. Lucius Malfoy was at the graveyard. His son, Draco, is our year, so I have to assume he told Voldemort we're friends. I need to–"
"I'll make sure she, and her parents are safe," Tony said, interrupting Harry's worried rambling. "Granger, was it? Hermione Granger? Yeah, it shouldn't be too hard to track down."
"You don't have to do this." The words left Harry's mouth so quickly he didn't have the chance to think of how they'd sound.
To his credit, Tony didn't wave him off or dismiss Harry's concern. Instead, he took a moment to think of his reply, then looked Harry squarely in the eyes and said, "I know you're used to taking care of things on your own, but you don't have to anymore. I am your father. What affects you is important to me. Now, given everything I've learned in the last few days, I know you won't take my word on it, so I'll have to show you with my actions. Trust me, this is unfamiliar territory for us both. I might not get it all right the first time, but I'm a certified genius and I learn fast. Leave Hermione Granger and her parents to me."
It took all of Harry's strength not to deny what Tony said. After all, Harry had years of examples showing how bad he was at depending on adults. Then again, he never really had an adult he felt he could rely on, and Tony just might be the person to break that streak.
"Thank you," Harry said, still unsure of himself but willing to give Tony a try. Hermione would certainly be proud of him for it.
Tony smiled; a genuine, radiant smile. "Well, don't thank me yet. I have a lot of catching up to do if we're going to get ahead of this."
Notes:
This one was a bit of a transition chapter, but I enjoyed getting to introduce Harry and Peter. Harry really does need a friend on this side and I have a specific purpose for Peter coming up. My muse has been towards writing lately, so I'm not sure when the next chapter will be edited to post. The arc I'm working on (chapters 27-30/31) is where the Avengers and HP plots merge so it's kind of important to write them as close together as I can. I'll try to get it in the next two-ish weeks, depending on how the writing side is going.
Chapter 21: Tony's Plan
Notes:
Two notes on this chapter:
1) Outside of MACUSA existing, I am ignoring the Fantastic Beasts series and making up my own American Wizarding World.
2) Since I've had to redo a lot of the current chapters I'm working on (this will make sense when they are eventually posted), I only read through this chapter twice. It went through my editors a few times so should be up to standards but please be gentle if it's not.
Chapter Text
Tony had a plan. His plans might rarely work as they should, but a plan was always a good place to start. It consisted of one goal — keeping Harry alive — accomplished in two parts: prevent whatever it was he saw on the mission from happening, and kill the evil wizard hunting down his son.
Telling Harry about his aunt and uncle had been harder than Tony expected it to be. Although he wanted to gloat over the bastards getting exactly what they deserved, Harry immediately asking about his cousin, then his concern about his non-magical friend, had stopped Tony from reacting inappropriately. He should have known Harry would take the higher ground; proof that he was a better person than Tony, despite his horrible upbringing, giving him every right not to be.
As he lay in bed that night, when Pepper asked about the mission, Tony surprised them both by telling her about the vision he had in the bunker. He tried to wave it off as some post-stress-induced hallucination, and while Pepper didn't outright disagree, she wasn't completely comfortable brushing the encounter under the rug of his mental instability either. Her best advice was to treat it as his subconscious showing him how much Harry meant to him, but given the other oddities of the mission and the realistic nature of the event — how he could feel the coldness of Harry's dead skin on his fingertips — he wanted to find a cause for the event regardless of the content of it. After all, living in a world with Gods, super soldier serum, radioactive spider bites, and now magic, anything was possible. The world had gotten very strange in a very short amount of time.
"Sir, the final report on the Morocco mission is ready. I've loaded it onto your private server."
"Pull it up on monitor four," Tony instructed.
He had spent most of his morning down in his lab putting the final touches on the new SI blood scanner as he waited for Peter, but with the scanner almost ready for testing, getting a head start on analyzing the intel SHIELD uncovered from Steve's failed mission would make for a worthy distraction. He wasn't prepared for what they found. Or more accurately, he wasn't prepared for what they didn't find.
"Jay, tell me I'm reading this wrong. There was no human blood at the scene?"
"You are correct, Sir." JARVIS somehow sounded as confused as Tony. "The recovered blood has been identified as porcine."
"Pig's blood?" He enlarged the photograph of the medieval torture table in the center of the main chamber, where they found most of the blood. "Were they trying to do a Carrie reenactment, or something?"
Thankfully, JARVIS picked up on the rhetorical nature of his question and simply pulled up the forensic reports on the blood profile. Sure enough, every single spot of blood from that cave — from the chamber area to the dripping spots throughout the passageway to the getaway vehicle location — was confirmed as pig blood; from various pig sources, if that mattered.
Tony frustratedly swiped the blood forensic report and accompanying photographs off this screen to bring up the next set in the folder. The new photographs were side-by-side still images from the recon video feed set up in the torture chamber — could he still call it that if no human was actually tortured there — highlighting the cloaked figure Tony previously identified appearing in one frame and then as a blurred shadow across the room in the next. The timestamps on both images were less than half a second apart and shortly before the team arrived. To confirm his suspicion, he asked JARVIS to calculate the approximate distance between the two figures and, just as he thought, not even Steve could make it in the impossibly short timeframe. He flipped past the images to read the SHIELD investigator's conclusion. Agent Harrell suggested a team revisit the chamber to look for any trapdoors in the floor, just in case there were two individuals in the chamber and one left via the hidden corridor.
"I'll give him creativity points for that one. Don't they think our surveillance equipment would've picked up a hidden room down there if one existed?" Tony complained. "I'm truly insulted. What kind of tech genius do they take me for? Justin Hammer?"
"I'm certain they knew it was a stretch when suggesting it."
Tony hummed a reply as he scanned the rest of the document, noting how the person in the chamber appeared near the time the twins were being forced into the getaway car. Why did whoever this was return? The next image was the one from the surveillance Tony saw the night of the debriefing, showing the cloaked figure hidden behind the chamber area as Steve and company tore through the place. Perhaps the person intended to fight Captain America? But if so, why didn't more of them show up for support? Surely one person didn't think they were going to take down the Avengers, regardless of who was sent there. Finding too many oddities to be insignificant, he copied the pictures to his local computer for further rendering.
The last page in the folder was an inventory list of items recovered after the team left. Based on this list, along with several witness statements, this group housed weapons for the local gangs. Two concerning statements, however, both said the site had been empty for nearly a year. Nothing in the area, nor from the residents of neighboring towns, connected the still missing Maximoff twins to the site. No one remembered seeing them around, and they weren't picked up on any of the, albeit limited, cameras outside of SHIELD's surveillance footage.
How much of it connected to the mission in Sokovia — outside of the Maximoff twins living there before they showed up in Germany — or to Tony's mysterious vision was anyone's guess. And something that weighed heavily on Tony's mind since they left Sokovia behind.
"Sir," JARVIS announced, pulling Tony out of his reverie, "Mister Parker has arrived."
In one swift move, Tony cleared his screen. The last thing he needed was to pique Peter's interest in something he had no business getting involved in. Depending on when Peter arrived on the floor from the service elevator, he might have already heard some of Tony's rambling as he read through SHIELD's reports, so it wasn't a stretch that he'd be on the lookout coming into the lab.
"Let him in, JARVIS."
Peter didn't mention anything about the mission, but Tony wasn't naïve enough to assume it meant he hadn't overheard him. Equally alarming, the kid jumped right to questions about Harry as soon as the new web shooter holographic schematics were between them. It might have been a distraction, but it gave Tony the perfect opportunity to launch into Phase One of his plan.
"You and Harry kicked it off well yesterday, huh?" Tony asked, feigning innocence. For Harry to have let Peter into his room and play video games, there had to be some sort of budding friendship, and Tony would work with whatever he could get.
"W-what?" The question caught Peter off guard, causing him to fumble with the screwdriver in his hand and drop it. DUM-E whirred to life to rush to pick it up from the ground before Peter had the chance to, and to Tony's astonishment, actually placed it next to Peter's hand. "Thanks, DUM-E. And, uh, I don't know. Harry was being polite. He didn't even say much. I did most of the talking. He probably wanted to tell me to get the hell out of there… but I showed him the rooftop garden… Were you really keeping him locked up in the Tower? Like Rapunzel?"
"Take a breath," Tony instructed, holding back a laugh. He secretly adored Peter's rambling nature, not that he'd ever say as much to the kid. "I'm not keeping him locked up here. He's just… not allowed to leave."
Peter gave him a sideways scowl. "Same thing, Mr. Stark. If he can't leave, and until yesterday he didn't know about the roof, then he hasn't gotten any fresh air in what, two weeks?"
"What are you, CPS?" Tony snapped back. "We had a rough start. Not that it's any of your business."
Peter shrugged nonchalantly. "Aunt May says fresh air is good for teenagers. Especially moody ones."
"Huh. I'll have to remember that."
Tony returned his focus to their project. He rotated the hologram to get a better view of the switch they were trying to replace — the new version would cut the reaction time in half and, combined with the new nozzle, would increase the web distance — and pretended not to care either way about Peter and Harry getting to know each other. Peter, to his credit, didn't seem at all suspicious of Tony's agenda. He simply followed Tony's instructions, making a few recommendations of his own, most of which were decent enough for Tony to accept.
They had just finished reconnecting the outer shell when Tony finally dropped the bombshell he'd been planning all along, "Any chance Aunt Hottie would let me steal you for a few days to go to Malibu?"
"Malibu?"
"Yeah," Tony exclaimed too emphatically to sound relaxed. "We have to close up the house for the winter, and it's Harry's birthday. He's never been to the beach before, so what better way to turn fifteen? Actually, I have a few better ways that Pepper said no to. Plus, there's some fundraiser thing Pepper wants me to attend in LA, making it a win-win-win all around. I thought maybe you'd also like to see a proper beach—with a palm tree and all—and it'll give you and Harry a better chance to get to know each other since you'll be around each other more often."
"I don't know, Mr. Stark," Peter said nervously. "Spying on people really isn't my thing."
"Spying? Who said anything about spying?"
Peter laughed, stopping when Tony didn't join in. "Well… you kind of implied it the way you said 'get to know him', like you're fishing for some kind of information."
"Well, that's not what I meant," Tony corrected, although he kept that option open if it turned out that being a wizard and on the run from a wizarding terrorist wasn't the only thing Harry was hiding. To emphasize his point, Tony clapped his hands on Peter's shoulder and said, "I was serious about the offer, Pete. You can even sneak your suit on the plane, and we'll work on some upgrades. What'd you say? I can call Aunt May for you if you think she'll need some convincing."
"I doubt that'd help at all," Peter replied. His face scrunched in thought for a minute, and eventually he caved. "I'll ask her. I make no promises, though. I was gone for most of July. I'm sure she wants to see me at some point this summer."
"Of course she does, Underoos. Who wouldn't want to see that sweet, innocent face of yours?" Tony joked, inwardly celebrating the success of the first step in Phase One. With Peter there, if things should get serious when Tony wasn't around, nothing could get to Harry on their trip. Spider-Man wouldn't allow it.
ooOoo
The start of Phase Two came a few days later, in the form of a visit to the American Wizarding Village. Begrudgingly, Tony accepted Fury's help to get there. Unlike Harry and Tony, Fury was familiar with both the magical world and New York City, and said he'd take them to the entrance location in Brooklyn; coincidentally, close to where Steve said he'd grown up.
Harry had been nervous about the outing all morning, and at one point all but demanded that Tony outright cancel the trip. Assuming his son was worried about either being recognized or embarrassed about bringing Tony into his magical life, Tony had done everything he could think of to reassure Harry that neither of those would happen; Fury promised to bring some sort of juice to disguise their identities, and Tony would never abandon Harry for being who he was.
Tony finally picked up on the real reason for the teens' jumpy nerves when Harry asked about his arc reactor for the third time: the technology keeping Tony alive might not function in the high magical environment. Admittedly, Tony hadn't made the connection of Tony's cameras not working around Harry and the arc reactor potentially failing. Unfortunately, Tony had no rationale for why that wouldn't happen, except to say none of the other magic done around him — or to him, when the professor admitted to freezing him — had affected the device, and it was a risk he was willing to take. Harry didn't seem so convinced. Still, they left for Brooklyn after breakfast, anyway.
Happy drove them to the rendezvous point. He did a horrible job of keeping his opinion of this whole thing off his face. He clearly didn't approve. However, one look at Tony's face as they pulled up to the dirty alley between an old record store and bookshop told him not to voice his opposition. Tony already knew going out with Harry was risky, and Tony's black baseball hat pulled low over his face did little to hide his identity should anyone take a long enough look. They'd just have to find Fury quickly to get whatever disguise contraption the man had.
"You're late," Fury greeted them. He was leaning against a not-so-subtle black SUV parked on the other side of the alley that he pushed off of to meet Tony and Harry.
"You know how it is, teenagers take forever to get ready, then there was traffic, a giant swarm of bees on Fifth," Tony said. He stayed close to Harry's side as they followed Fury to the wall at the end of the dirty alley. The whole situation smelled fishy, and not because of the dumpsters lining their destination. "Oh, this is great. Really great, and not at all like the start of every modern horror movie."
"That's kind of the point," Harry stated. "It needs to stay hidden so muggles don't accidentally find it."
"No-Maj," Fury corrected.
Tony still didn't know the difference. Harry must have because he shrugged and muttered, "Whatever."
They stopped at a small section of exposed brick in the left corner of the alley, sandwiched between an overflowing dumpster and the back wall.
Fury gestured to the area. "Here we are." He looked at Harry. "I take it, you know what to do here?"
"Yeah, I do," Harry responded. Tony watched how Harry's hands rubbed against the side of his jeans, the same movements Peter did when he was nervous. Also like Peter, he immediately stopped when he noticed Tony watching him. "You're really not going to like this, Tony."
As much as Tony believed him — visions of Loki's magic had plagued his few sleeping hours the last few nights — he refused to let Harry think he feared him. He needed to show Harry he was different from the Dursleys, no matter how uncomfortable it made him.
"Let's go." Tony had aimed for enthusiasm, yet it came off a little more dreadful than intended.
Fury stood in front of the wall, blocking it from both Tony's and Harry's view. "Hold on a second. You need to take these first."
He held out two large vials to them; one with TS written on the side and HE on the other. Tony grabbed the one with his initials and gave Harry the other.
"What is this?" He tentatively asked. The sludge inside had a sour smell to it. For once, Harry looked just as disgusted as Tony about it.
"Polyjuice potion," Harry answered, his face turning a green hue. "It'll turn us into other people. Not going to lie, it's a rather uncomfortable experience."
So, Harry has done this before.
Rather than jump down that rabbit hole — he probably wouldn't get the truth anyway — Tony instead asked, "Turn us into whom?"
"Doesn't matter. As long as you don't look like Iron Man and the Boy-Who-Lived, it'll do," Fury said. "Now drink up."
Throughout his years as the nation's leading form of entertainment as a party-boy, Tony had drunk plenty of sketchy things. None of them came close to whatever he had just poured into his mouth. The second the thick, slimy gunk touched his tongue, Tony was sure it would inevitably poison him. That percentage rapidly grew when the strangest sensation enveloped his body, a pulling and pulsating feeling from his head down to his toes. And if the taste of the potion and the feeling of his insides being ripped apart wasn't enough to bother him, the sight of Harry going through the same transformation beside him almost had him vomiting all over his second favorite shoes. The process was downright alarming and painful. Suddenly, he wanted to go straight to Bruce and apologize for all the Hulk transformation jokes he'd made throughout the year.
Just like with Hulk, the transformation took less than a minute — and Tony never planned on experiencing it again — and when it ended, Tony and Harry looked nothing like themselves. They both now had a completely different facial structure, blonde hair, blue eyes, and Harry was at least three inches taller than Tony. To the wizarding world's credit, it was significantly more effective than Tony's hat would have been, and by altering the actual person's body, it was even better than SHIELD's face masks because they couldn't accidentally be removed.
One would have thought that changing into another person would have been the hardest part for Tony to understand out of the entire process. Not even close. When Harry said they would have to run into the wall to get into the Wizarding Marketplace, Tony almost turned around and left. Although Harry didn't use the term, it sure reminded Tony of flying the nuke into the alien wormhole. It took a few false starts on Tony's end — sure he would slam into the wall no matter how much Harry assured him he wouldn't as long as he held onto Harry's arm — they finally arrived. Nothing in the books Tony dutifully read in the days leading up to this trip could have prepared him for his first step into the magical world.
"Welcome to Vellannail Cross," Fury said, ushering them out of the busy street, onto the sidewalk.
Tony Stark didn't gawk, but wearing another man's face meant he didn't have to hide his reaction to the sights around him. To his surprise, Harry had a similar expression on his new face, taking in the surrounding sights in awe.
The architecture of the buildings didn't look much different from the buildings in Brooklyn they'd just left behind. The magic came in everything surrounding them. It all defied every law of physics Tony lived by. On his right, hovering above a sign for Booze Brothers Apothecary, was a vial similar to the one the Polyjuice Potion had been in. In a continuous cycle, it filled up with a colored liquid and then emptied before refilling with a different color liquid. With each round of emptying, a poof of smoke came out of the top of the vial with a visual representation to identify the concoction. The first was a flushed face that turned blue – possibly a fever reducer – and then a pimpled face that cleared up instantly. Tony could easily explain the floating vial by science; less so the actions above it.
The store beside the apothecary sold brooms, just like in the old stories of witches. Like its neighbor, the sign had a broom above it, which flew around the roof, dodging the chimney, window ledges, and every single bird that flew in its vicinity. A group of young kids near the front windows of the building were throwing stones up towards it. Tony had no doubt the object would have avoided every single one of them if they hadn't fizzled off as they approached the roof.
"Little cliché, don't you think?" Tony said, pointing at the broom floating in the window, earning him a glare from Fury and Harry.
"Trust me, it's the best method of magical transportation."
A small tinge of anxiety in Harry's voice told Tony he didn't want to know the other forms.
Tony peered around at the other equally strange building as they walked straight ahead, following Fury. To where? Tony didn't have a clue. Hopefully, a place where Tony could learn how to combat magic. "So this is it. Does it remind you of home, Enrico?"
Harry had to pull his eyes away from the alley to Tony. "Not at all. This all looks so… modern… less wobbly buildings and everyone is dressed like muggles. Diagon Alley's buildings don't really have any straight lines, and we dress in robes."
Tony shook his head at the image he made. "That sounds disorienting and uncomfortable."
They paused by the front window of a sushi restaurant showcasing the various options available, all made with seafood names Tony had never heard of. The name might as well have been gibberish for all Tony knew. He was about to ask Harry if he recognized any of them until a set of floating chopsticks grabbed from the tray of pink and orange rolls right in the front, placing three onto the floating plate and then soaring off to the sea of tables in the back.
"I can create something to do that," Tony said, pointing to the action of the chopsticks serving the sushi to the person at the counter. "A set of magnets in the right spots–"
"It's magic, Tony," Harry interrupted him. "Everything here is magic. In fact, most of your tech won't work here."
Tony folded his arms across his chest, subconsciously blocking his still-working arc reactor, and rested his back against the window to glance up at Harry. "I'm just saying, it's not impossible to do most of this stuff."
"I know, I've been comparing your tech to the spells we can do here."
Harry pulled a notebook out of the backpack he brought to hold their future purchases. It was the same one Tony had seen on his second night, the one he had assumed Harry used for larping. Who knew he had been so close to the truth?
Unsurprisingly, the names of the spells were all in Latin. Since Tony had brushed up on some basic Latin after meeting Natasha, he recognized the base of a few of them.
Flipping through the notebook, his mind whirled, sending him down a path of questions, "Who makes all these spells? Can anyone just say some Latin and boom, there's a spell? And does someone have to certify the spells before they can be taught to students? I'm sure there are different levels. You wouldn't want a bunch of teenagers going around trying to burn the place to the ground because they learned Incendio in class the day before. How do they keep kids from slinging them in the halls at each other?"
Harry's laughing put an end to Tony's frantic questioning. "We can get expelled for dueling in the corridors," Harry answered one of the top questions on Tony's mind. However, Tony's skeptical expression had him sheepishly adding, "Assuming we get caught."
"Sounds about right."
"The spells are separated by level, too." Harry pointed to a few on the page to Tony. "Then there are different types, like these are all considered Charms that first or second-year students would learn."
"When do you learn the dangerous ones?"
It had originally been a joke, but a shadow fell over Harry's eyes, and his demeanor changed from light-hearted fun to almost haunted.
"That would be Defense Against the Dark Arts." He flipped the notebook three more pages ahead to a list of spells that aligned with Iron Man's weapons. "Obviously, these are taught so we can defend ourselves, but they can also be used for offense. We don't learn any of the true Dark Arts, except for the Unforgivable Curses we learned this year."
Tony's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "Unforgivable curses? What happens if you use those?"
"The person goes straight to Azkaban. That's our prison. No questions asked."
Tony slammed the notebook shut. "Glad to hear you have some sort of ethics system. Looks like I have a lot of things to catch up on."
And the list grew the more they walked towards the bookstore near the end of the street. Tony peeked into every single window and at every person they passed doing magic. Men and women were casting spells to lighten the weight of their bags, or in one case disappear entirely, floating trash to the bins along the roadside, and cleaning spilled coffee from a shirt, leaving it as crisp and white as if it were purchased new. Magical construction workers were repairing broken windows and painting entire buildings with a single wave of a wand. All of it was so simple and so quick that even if Tony could explain it by science, none of his explanations would account for the expediency of it all. Need to fix a crack in the road? Point your wand and it's done. And none of them were saying anything, so while all of Harry's spells had names, implying a vocal aspect, obviously there was a mental part to it, making the word or phrase unnecessary.
Across the street from the broom store, Tony watched a mother point her wand at her toddler's shoes, tying them without disturbing the infant sleeping on her shoulder. Magic certainly made parenting look simple. So much so, Tony wondered what raising Harry might have been like with Lily. Between his tech and her magic — no doubt he would have found a way for them to work together — it might have made the grimy parts of parenthood at least a little more tolerable; he might not have had to wipe any snotty noses or sticky hands. Plus Lily… despite the little he remembered of her, he knew she would have been an exceptional mother. With the benefit of hindsight, he really would have liked the chance to have raised Harry with her, assuming she had lived long enough to see his post-Afghanistan transformation and to tell him about their son.
By the time they entered the bookstore, any shock at the floating books or glowing writing across the ceiling detailing the latest best-selling wizarding novels was long gone. The growling book locked up in the corner, which Harry fondly laughed at with a muttered "a story for later", caused him a little concern, but overall the shop was tamer than any others they passed in the alley. Harry explained all about featherlight and extension charms when Fury piled books of various sizes in Harry's basket, yet he never once complained about the added weight nor made any outward appearance of noticing the number of texts he held. After solving Harry's dark wizard problem, Tony would take his newfound knowledge of charms and runes to add a few key improvements to his Iron Man suit.
"Wait a second, what is this?" Tony exclaimed, grabbing the last book Fury tossed into the basket. A pocket-sized paperback titled Magical Children for No-Maj Dummies. "This is more than a little insulting. I am a literal genius. Quite the antithesis to dummies."
Fury sent him a hard stare. "Not in magic, you're not. You're about to learn a lesson in humility and humbleness."
"Whatever," Tony mumbled, thumbing through the book as the other two debated between two books; something about the origins of magic and Merlin. He landed on a page with the headline: "Is your magical child reaching the cookies on the top shelf? and explained the typical accidental magic seen in growing witches and wizards. Apparently, things like lighting candles after bedtime and changing the color of their shirt were very common, and parents only needed to worry when the accidental magic crossed into a dangerous category — like hovering too high in the air or setting things on fire. Tony frowned at the last one. "Hey, this says children can experience accidental magic as early as age five. Some of these are kind of wild. Did you do anything fun growing up?"
The second Harry's face turned red, Tony knew he'd be in for something good. "Uh, yeah, you can say that. Once I… erm… grew my hair back. My aunt got fed up with my messy hair and gave me this awful haircut. It was all lopsided in places, but when I woke up the next morning it had all regrown."
"That doesn't seem too bad."
"Then there was the time I changed my teacher's hair color once. She embarrassed me in class, and I wanted everyone to stop laughing at me."
Tony smirked, pride welling up inside of him. "Guess that's one way to do it."
"A-And then one time I apparated… erm, what you saw the Professor do in my room the other day… to the roof of my primary school."
"The roof?!" Tony exclaimed. He ducked his head as the surrounding people turned towards the commotion. Tony did, in fact, remember what the term apparation meant; it was hard to forget after watching Dracula appear in front of him in his son's bedroom. What he wanted to know was what caused his kid to transport himself — an act the book assured wouldn't be possible until the wizard was in his teens — to the roof. Only after they turned around did he finally ask, "Do I want to know why you did it?"
Harry's eyes shifted to his feet. With a shrug, he said, "Dudley and his friends were chasing me, and I needed a safe place."
"Again… the roof?"
Harry didn't answer, and Tony didn't push any further. The Dursleys were officially a thing of Harry's past. Thankfully, Tony had seen the wreckage with his own eyes, so he didn't have to worry about them hurting his son ever again. Of course, abusive relatives were probably easier to handle than a megalomaniac dark wizard and some unknown threat Tony envisioned, but he'd take one hurdle at a time. With Peter now coming to California, Harry would always be protected in the no-maj world, and Tony had a library of books to read through to learn how he can use his tech to protect Harry should any of these evil wizards come knocking. Both phases of his plan had officially started. And although Tony's plans rarely worked as he expected them to, he vowed to find a way to keep Harry safe. He'd make one if he had to.
Chapter 22: Malibu
Notes:
Who is ready for some fluff? I think we deserve a small break in the chaos… at least for now. This chapter is entirely meant for some family time and is probably not accurate with the flight to Malibu. I took some creative liberties on the places/descriptions here, so please enjoy.
Fun fact: editing this chapter after finishing the chapter I just wrote was kind of wild. THere's just enough overlap in one section that I kept trying to change things, and had to remind myself that this chapter is the past. I may shorten the gap between what I'm writing and what I'm posting.
Thank you to everyone reading, and those commenting! Even though I'm horribly introverted and hardly (never) reply, I promise I read them all and they definitely help keep me motivated.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
"Rise and shine, kiddo. We have places to go, and people to see."
Groaning, Harry pulled his blanket tighter around his shoulders and covered his head with a pillow, hoping to drown out Tony's annoyingly chipper voice, especially considering they had been testing out Tony's tech to Harry's magic until two in the morning.
In the few days since their trip to Brooklyn, Tony had become obsessed with magic. According to Pepper, he spent that first night reading book after book and the next morning had suddenly become a Hermione-level expert on everything magic. Tony lasted a whole hour after breakfast before leading Harry into the training room to test out his theories; assuring him about how he had made it completely safe — how he'd done enough research to have a good idea of how the reaction would be, JARVIS had secured the room from everyone besides Pepper, and Fury had confirmed that any small magic detected from the Tower would essentially be ignored. His details on the armor he'd given Harry to protect him from the Iron Man blasts, however, had been less convincing. Although, since his Protego shield absorbed every blast, it was sort of a moot point.
Once they established the alarmingly high limitations of Tony's tech on Harry's magic, they reversed their roles: Harry got to try out his magic against Iron Man's defenses. This part of the trials had a very different, but more fun, outcome. Unlike when Tony was "attacking" Harry, Tony let Harry go wild on the magic he used. With Iron Man not able to block a single spell, Harry was having a lot of fun using him as a practice dummy until his final Stupify completely powered down the suit. Preparing for Tony to be angry with him, Harry was shocked at the laughter and pure joy on Tony's face at the prospect of a new project to work on, one he promised Harry he could help with, too.
"Seriously, Harry," Tony said again, this time with more emphasis as he nudged Harry's shoulder, "if you want any breakfast, you need to get out there before Happy gets here."
From under the blanket, Harry grabbed his wand off the bedside table and pushed himself into a sitting position. Taunting the wand innocently in front of Tony, he said, "You know there's at least one approved spell I can use to make you go away right now."
That was the absolute best part of the last few days. Not only could he probably get away with doing a little magic around the penthouse on his own, but Tony actually encouraged him to do it after setting up JARVIS to record any energy from Harry's spells. So, as long as no one else was around, he'd given Harry free rein to use innocuous magic; things from a list he and Tony had spent an hour over hot chocolate — and late night coffee for Tony, much to Pepper's chagrin — creating. Tony had also used that time to go on and on about algorithms and stuff Harry knew nothing about, but the message had been the same: he needed Harry to use his magic for research, and Harry had no objections to it.
The only downside to the whole situation was that he had to be in the Penthouse, and they were leaving for Malibu that afternoon. Which was the real reason Tony was there to wake him up.
Tony laughed, the complete opposite reaction Uncle Vernon would have had. "Hey, I got you up, and that's all that matters. Go ahead… do your thing, then get packed up. I'll see you out there." Tony turned to leave, but paused at the doorway to add, "I wasn't joking about Happy, though. If you don't eat before he gets back, there might not be any French toast left over."
Harry wouldn't normally care much about breakfast during the summer; however, he'd gotten pretty used to eating three full meals a day, even if breakfast with Tony usually was a bowl of oatmeal or cereal. Today, though, Pepper made her amazing vanilla and peach eggy bread, giving him more than enough motivation to get up and showered in record time.
Packing slowed him down. Since Harry had been nowhere with a climate remotely like Malibu's, he was lost in what type of clothing to pack. Pepper had mentioned that he wouldn't need any formal clothes for the week, except that didn't exactly help with what he should pack for the rest of the trip.
"Hey, JARVIS," Harry asked, suddenly remembering he had access to unlimited information.
"Yes, Master Harry?"
"Erm… Harry is fine. Master sounds a bit…" He wanted to say it sounded like something the Death Eaters would call Voldemort, but figured JARVIS probably knew nothing about Wizarding Britain, and he didn't want to explain it. "You can just call me Harry."
"Ok, Harry," JARVIS said. "What can I help you with?"
Harry looked around the piles of clothes he had pulled from the shelves as options to pack. "Any suggestions on what I should take for our trip to Malibu? I'm guessing my usual jeans are probably not the best option."
"The average temperature during your trip is a high of 89 degrees Fahrenheit, or approximately 32 degrees Celsius, during the day. The lows are approximately 66 degrees Fahrenheit, or 19 degrees Celsius at night. Given the climate you've grown up in, I would recommend sticking to short and short-sleeved shirts. You should also pack a few gym shorts, two swimsuits for the pool or beach, sandals and trainers, pajamas, and underwear. I also recommend including a few bottles of sunscreen and aloe. Would you like me to outline your pharmaceutical needs, such as a toothbrush—"
"No, JARVIS," Harry abruptly interrupted. "I'm good. Thanks."
"Anytime, Harry. I also recommend you use the suitcase Miss. Potts placed in the back corner of your closet rather than the duffel bag or backpack you brought with you. There are several packing cubes inside it to keep your clothing organized."
Harry frowned as he moved the hanging clothes aside, revealing a small, very nice, black roller suitcase, identical to the ones every single person at the airports used. Deciding to give his newfound approved magic a try, he nervously grasped his wand, pointed it at the suitcase, and with a flick and swish, whispered, "Wingardium leviosa." To his surprise — he hadn't even focused on the spell much — the bag levitated, following the movement of his wand until he landed it gently on the floor by his feet. With the help of Accio, he had all the clothes JARVIS suggested, plus an outfit for himself to travel in, a few school books, his new cellphone Peter helped him set up, and his photo album packed in his backpack for the trip. All in all, it was quick work, rewarding to get to use his magic to do it, and although he still didn't like wearing the cargo-style shorts under his red shirt, he was ready to go.
"You made it," Tony announced as Harry rounded the corner to the kitchen. He left his suitcase by the front door, next to Tony's identical-looking one and Pepper's white and brown one, and placed his backpack on the floor beside the bar stool where a plate of eggs, eggy bread, a banana, and a cup of orange juice waited for him. "I thought I was going to have to eat it all for you."
Harry took a large forkful of eggy toast and rolled his eyes. "And then Pepper would have harassed you about it all the way to California."
Tony shrugged. "That's par for the course for us. Between you and me, I think it's her way of flirting. And the way she gets all flustered when I'm not annoyed with it is rather endearing."
A warm flush ran up Harry's cheeks, just like it always did when he listened to the way Tony talked about Pepper. At first, Harry had been a little wary of their relationship; unsure how to react since Pepper still very much ran a lot of Tony's life. But the more he was with them, the more he felt how much they cared for each other in a very different, sometimes more intense, way than any other adult couple Harry had been around; certainly more than Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Tony and Pepper not only loved each other but they deeply appreciated each other too, even if they didn't always say it in words.
While Harry ate his breakfast, Tony pulled out yet another book he'd gotten from the bookstore about the magic behind brooms. Harry listened with fascination. As much as he loved and missed flying he never really thought about the mechanics — how the choice of bristles, the lacquer of the wood, and the shape of the handle all impacted how high or fast it flew, or how nimble it handled. The science behind it, as Tony called it, captivated Harry in every way, and that was all on top of the complicated weave of spells within each portion of the broom. Tony made notes in his phone when they started talking about different combinations of materials, commenting more than once at how wood wasn't his usual medium to work with, how he bet the same concepts could apply to other materials, and if they used the same magical concept for portkeys — since they can accidentally transport no-majs — he could make the new broom also work for no-majs. Harry didn't entirely agree with the last part; being magical was a unique part of him he didn't really want to share, but he enjoyed getting to brainstorm with Tony.
Lost in the blueprint they were creating for a new flying arena, neither of them noticed Pepper rounding the corner into the kitchen until she was standing directly behind them.
"What is that?" She asked, startling them both almost out of their seats. She leaned in closer to the screen. "Is that a– where do you plan on building something that big? We have nothing in the Tower available even close to those specs. "
Tony beamed with pride. "It's a new training center," Tony answered in a tone that very much implied Pepper should have been able to see it from the mess of lines and measurements on the screen. "It's going to go into the new Avengers' compound upstate, like we planned."
"Upstate?" Pepper covered her eyes with her hand at Tony's nod. "Just because we talk about something one–as in singular–time doesn't mean it's all planned out. There are at least a hundred things that have to move for that facility to be available, the first of which is figuring out where the manufacturing currently happening there is going to go. And find new positions for the employees there. Moving the Malibu headquarters here pushed our lay-off rates up more than I'd like."
"But it's perfect. You've been telling me for a year how I need to separate the Avengers and SI business, and it has plenty of room for everyone plus the new flying arena—"
"What flying arena?"
Tony flipped the tablet to show Pepper the rough outline. "The one for Harry to test out our new broom designs."
"Your new what?" Pepper asked, her gaze bouncing between him and Tony. "I thought you were working on all of this to help Harry's… evil wizard problem."
"Of course that's the first goal, but who says we can't have a little fun along the way?" Tony winked at Harry and snapped the cover of his StarkPad shut. He stood up to run his hands down Pepper's arms. "I always figure it out in the end, Pep," he told her calmly. "Trust me. It'll all work out better for everyone."
"You mean I always figure it out in the end," Pepper argued.
"Semantics. The point is, we have this all under control."
Tony leaned in for a kiss, but right before her lips touched, Pepper said, "Well, I was here to tell you, you're going to be late for your flight."
There was an air of annoyance in her voice, one that would have put Harry on edge a week ago, but now made him half smile despite actually worrying about missing their flight. Snape had been adamant — quite angrily so — that they arrived at the airport early, otherwise they risked being left behind.
Tony pulled back. "What is the point of having a private plane if it's going to leave with me? How many times have I told you that?"
"Too many," Pepper replied. "Which also means you've been late for too many flights. And while you're right that they won't leave without you, you also risk not leaving at all if your pilot has another flight to get to. Or just, you know, leaves."
Tony let out a half-annoyed hmph. "I pay him to wait."
"The FAA regulations don't care about that."
"It's not even ten in the morning, Pep, I doubt he's hit his max working hours yet. Unless, of course, he flew overnight. In that case, I don't want him flying us," Tony countered. "If not, then I think he can wait."
"Fine," Pepper stated, locking her arms tightly across her chest in a stance Harry would have taken as her admitting defeat if not for her sly smile. "But Peter is probably wondering where you guys are."
"Peter's coming too?" Harry asked, excitedly. No one had mentioned anything about guests coming along, and from the little time Harry spent with Peter, they'd gotten along rather well. He reminded Harry a little of himself, and with no friends around having another teenager to hang out with would make his imprisonment in the Tower more manageable.
Pepper glared at Tony, who lifted his hands in a 'caught me' gesture. "Pep said you guys hit it off when he was over. Plus, it'll give you someone to hang out with while the grown-ups are schmoozing at the fundraiser," Tony said with a half shrug. "You don't mind, do you?"
"Not at all," Harry said, jumping off his barstool and taking his plate to the sink to load into the dishwasher. "We should probably get going. Don't want to keep him waiting."
"Sure, I see how it is," Tony said, exaggeratedly as he and Pepper followed Harry to the front door. "Now that you've got a friend coming, your old man is chopped liver. Don't mind me, I'll just be sitting in the corner of the plane… all alone."
ooOoo
"Nervous flier?" Harry asked Peter, eyeing the other boy's bouncing knee as he settled into the seat next to Peter, one significantly nicer than the ones he and Snape sat in from London. Actually, the whole experience, from the private airport to the plane itself, was on a totally different level from the cramped flight to New York. And that this could be his life now — something Tony reminded him of at least three times during the drive to the airport — was crazy; almost as crazy, and as real, as being told he was a wizard.
"It's my first time flying. We drove to the robotics camp in Massachusetts. Outside of that, I haven't really had any reason to leave New York City," Peter admitted, obviously trying not to show how nervous he was about the whole thing. Harry wished he could give him one of the calming draughts Harry had been taking every morning for the tremors. It also helped Harry's growing wariness about the upcoming trip. "How about you? I mean, you had to fly here from England, but did you travel much before then?"
Harry had his own reasons for being worried about the trip. The actual flying part was near the bottom. Tony assured him no one would see them together at the private New York airport, and once they arrived in Malibu, no one would care. Still, Harry was convinced that Snape could track him somehow and would know the second Harry left the border of New York. Not that he could tell Peter any of that.
"Not at all," he said instead. "I mean, I take the train to school every year. Not sure if that counts. My boarding school is in Scotland, so it takes about half a day to get there from London."
"That's really cool. I've read about how efficient the railway is in Europe compared to the United States. It's like night and day there," Peter replied. His enthusiasm was a lot like Hermione's. Peter's hands gripped the armrests as the engines roared to life and the plane took off down the runway. They had lifted off the ground when he asked, "I guess you'll be flying there from now on, huh? Do you know if you can go straight there or will you have to fly to London to catch the train?"
He was about to say he wasn't sure, until Tony called from the seats behind them, "That's still to be determined."
Although things between them calmed down a lot after Tony learned about Harry's magic, school was still a taboo subject. Harry argued it would draw more attention if he didn't show up in September and could reveal his connection to Tony, and Tony didn't seem to care one bit. He kept digging his heels, claiming Harry's lack of safety in the past somehow meant he shouldn't go at all. To keep himself from starting an argument in their first hour of the trip, Harry clenched his jaw and pretended not to hear Tony's comment.
To his credit, Tony seemed to have picked up Harry's hint and dropped the subject, too. "Hey, Pete," he leaned over the seat, peering down at Peter. "Why don't you show Harry the handheld game system you designed. It'll help keep your mind busy on the flight too."
"You made a video game system?" Harry asked, more than a little impressed. He knew Peter was a genius like Tony — Tony wouldn't have a personal intern who wasn't — but he did not know the type of work he did.
Peter opened his backpack and took out a small red handheld device, sized somewhere between a phone and a tablet. "Mr. Stark is being generous. I just repaired it."
"You added a lot of features to it, Pete. Take credit where credit is due," Tony said and clapped him on the shoulder as he sat back down.
For the first few hours of the flight, Peter's video game system — which Harry learned how Peter both repaired from essentially a piece of garbage to a fully functional system and improved it — kept them occupied. Every so often, Harry caught a glance of Tony watching them as he talked to Pepper or Happy and worked on his tablet from the other side of the plane. They were served a lunch of creamy chicken with vegetables midway through the flight. It was a major upgrade from the meal served on Harry's first flight.
By the last few hours of their flight, Harry became restless. Peter had gotten involved in updating the summer project he was working on with his best friend for school, and Pepper had to abandon the puzzle they'd been working on to take a call, leaving Harry to mostly stare out the window. If this were any normal summer, he'd be used to sitting in one place for hours on end with nothing to do. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case anymore. Plus, what he really wanted to do was write to Ron and Hermione, but if he wrote a letter, it'd be too tempting to mail it. And that would mess with the whole stupid plan—
"You look bored," Tony's voice interrupted Harry's mental rant at just the right moment. He jutted his chin at Peter's now-empty seat. "Mind if I sit? Pete's using the lab in the back of the plane."
Harry nodded a split second before Tony sat, most likely meaning he would have sat regardless of Harry's answer.
"You have a lab on your plane?"
"It's a small thing, really." Tony chuckled. "More like a computer station. But it'll help him build whatever world-dominating robot he needs to build for school."
Something about the way Tony made the statement — in an almost parental way — made Harry's chest feel tight. Peter was clearly more than merely Tony's intern, and Harry couldn't help but think about how he had always lost when competing for parental attention in the past. At least he was the biological child here. Was Peter as worried — Harry refused to call himself jealous — about Harry's growing relationship with Tony? Did it make Harry become Peter's Dudley?
Absolutely not.
"We'll be landing soon," Tony said, once again pulling Harry out of his reverie. "There will be a car waiting for us on the tarmac when we land. Our security team has blocked off the tarmac. No one will see you or Peter. We'll head straight home from there. With the place being more or less empty for some time, someone is bound to see my car show up. We have a security gate and no visuals around the house from outside the property line, but to be safe, we'll hang out at home for the day."
As if on cue, one of the crew came over and told them to prepare for landing. Tony stayed in the aisle seat next to Harry, leaving Peter the window seat behind Harry.
The experience of flying into California from New York was as eye-opening as flying into New York from London, and thoroughly distracted Harry from any of his other worries. The little he saw out of the plane during their cross-country trip, outside of the city as they left, was mostly flat and unappealing. But as they landed in California, the very first thing Harry noticed was the blue water of the Pacific Ocean and a wide sandy beach lined with tall palm trees. It looked nothing like the ocean coming into New York. It looked warmer, more fun, and more inviting.
And Harry's awe didn't stop when the plane landed; Malibu was nothing like Harry had seen before.
As promised, a car was waiting for them on the tarmac, and while Happy drove them to Tony's house in Malibu, Harry and Peter spent the drive looking out the windows, taking it all in. The route Tony asked Happy to take took them by a boardwalk — where Pepper said had the best ice cream in Malibu —, a long stretch of beach, and through a small seaside town. Tony pointed out what remained of the Stark Industries campus, mostly R labs he said he'd take Peter to when he visited the facility, and a few manufacturing lines. Pepper not so subtly started typing away on her phone whenever they took a winding road right beside a steep cliff. The experience was magical in a very muggle way.
The car wound its way up the cliff-side road until 10880 Malibu Point came into view, jutting out over the Pacific like it had been carved into the rock itself. Sleek lines of glass and steel caught the sunlight, throwing it back in sharp gleams, while wide terraces seemed to spill right into the ocean below. To Harry, it didn't look like a home so much as something out of a film — part fortress, part palace, with the confidence that came from knowing it belonged to someone untouchable.
Harry's jaw literally dropped at the sight of the house; his new house, an idea that seemed as crazy as anything else in his life.
"Here we are, Dorothy," Tony announced once Harry stepped out into the almost blinding sun. "There's no place like home."
Standing there in the Malibu heat, listening to the sound of the crashing waves hitting the cliffs, and smelling the salty sea air, Harry didn't regret the decision to spend his birthday in Malibu. "You used to live here?" Harry blurted out. "Why'd you leave?"
Tony peered over his shoulder at Pepper, who was helping Happy organize their luggage. "Priorities changed, for one. Plus, the team needed me there, and it was good PR to have all of SI HQ in the brand new, fully sustainable building. And I had to be there."
Harry saw a familiar flash of wariness cross over Tony's face and knew there had to be more to the story his father didn't want to share. Hadn't Tony mentioned something about not sleeping well when he caught Harry up on his first night in the Tower?
"Well, we're definitely not in Kansas anymore, Mr. Stark," Peter said, effectively pushing any of Tony's lingering sadness away at his movie reference. "This is incredible!"
"This is nothing, Underoos. Wait until you see the view from your bedrooms," Tony said. He wrapped one arm around Harry and ushered them all inside. "Welcome to Malibu, boys."
Upon walking through the front door, his trainers echoing on the polished marble floors, Harry instantly felt torn. On the one hand, the sheer size of the place would amaze anyone, the sleek white curves of the glass walls, the floating staircase behind an actual flowing waterfall, of all things, and the panoramic view of the Pacific Ocean off the side of the cliff. It reminded him of a less creepy Gringotts.
On the other side, a part of Harry — the part who grew up in oversized hand-me-downs, sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs — was disgusted by the opulence of it all. Disgusted by an overt display of wealth he couldn't come close to comprehending, a wealth and lifestyle he was a part of whether he wanted to be or not, and whether or not he was comfortable with it.
"What do you think, Enrico?" Tony asked, staring straight at Harry like he needed Harry's approval of it all.
Harry spun around to take it all in. Sure, he could choose to dwell on mourning a life that could have been his had his mother been honest about Tony from the start. But then Harry wouldn't be Harry, would he? He would have gone to the magical school in the United States — Ilvermorny, if he remembered correctly. He would have never met Ron or Hermione, or Neville, Seamus, and Dean. He wouldn't have had to deal with Draco for the last four years, but would he have ended up more like the Slytherin instead? Harry internally shuddered thinking of that possibility.
Finally, Harry looked up at Tony with a smile and replied, "I think it's brilliant."
Relief flooded Tony's face, replacing the worried lines that had built up while Harry debated his moral dilemma, and Harry couldn't deny how good the sight made him feel. He'd done, or at least said, something to make his father happy. Harry had never made an adult happy before.
The moment lasted only a second, though, before being interrupted by Happy pushing through the door behind Harry, carrying Tony and Pepper's bags.
"The kitchen is fully stocked, Boss. And the towels and bedding have all been freshly cleaned," Happy announced, placing Tony and Pepper's bags near the stairs. Out of habit, Harry had brought his own bags in, and he noticed Peter did too. Maybe Peter was as out of place as Harry. "You should know that Miranda had literally just finished putting the last of the linens away in storage when I called to tell her to prep for house guests. I'll spare you the choice words she said to me, but I'm not making a call like that again. You can piss off the California crew yourself next time."
Tony let out a deep laugh. "What are you talking about? Miranda loves me."
"She loves Pepper. She tolerates you," Happy countered. "And I'm pretty sure she hates me to my core."
"It's because you insulted her Paella. I told you, there's no coming back from that," Tony said jokingly, then turned to Harry and Peer and clapped. The sound vibrated off the mostly empty house, so loudly that Peter practically jumped out of his skin. When he noticed Peter's reaction, he grimaced and pointed at his own ears.
"What'd you guys say? I give you the grand tour, then we cook up some burgers for dinner? You can probably get a quick swim in the infinity pool, too."
They began the tour downstairs, in the garage and Tony's workshop. With expensive cars lining one side, a display of Iron Man suits on the opposite, and cluttered workbenches between them, Harry might as well have been a fish out of water down there. Peter, however, took to it all like the giant squid in the Black Lake, so Harry purposefully stayed a few steps behind them, his hands clenched in his shorts pockets. Noticing Harry trailing behind, Tony tried his best to include Harry by explaining the projects he'd started there and what he would eventually move to the Tower and what he'd be leaving in Malibu, but it was like Harry had been transported to a whole new era — one set as far into the future as Hogwarts was set in the past.
After promising Peter a chance to explore all the different rooms and subfloors later, they returned to the ground floor. Harry had assumed he'd seen most of the main floor when he'd first entered, but he had been very wrong. Besides the open kitchen and living room, there was also a music room — complete with a grand piano Tony grudgingly admitted to being able to play —, a boxing ring and sauna, a movie room rivaling the Tower's, and a wine cellar. A white, winding balcony ran along the length of the house and ended at the infinity pool, which also included a full outdoor kitchen and lounge area.
They ended their tour upstairs.
Although Tony pointed out an elevator tucked behind the piano, they took the staircase up to the second floor to the bedrooms, each step illuminating beneath Harry's feet as he stepped on them. On one side of the house was Tony's and Pepper's bedroom, leaving the guest rooms on the other side. Harry had only peeked in their room at the Tower once or twice, but he could easily see Pepper's touch in their New York bedroom compared to this one.
The guest rooms were on the other side of the second floor, separated from the master suite by a spacious office Pepper and Tony shared, a library, and a comfortable loft. All the guest rooms had generic designs, all set up almost identical to the one next to Harry's bedroom at the Tower, implying Tony — or Pepper, or whoever they hired to decorate the place — had a specific style to follow for the guest bedrooms.
Peter and Harry were given two rooms next to each other, and Tony had been absolutely right about the view from them. The far wall was made of crystal clear, seamless glass and overlooked the back garden cliff, a sight so much better than the New York skyline in Harry's humble opinion. Then again, he'd take an isolated landscape like the mountains around Hogwarts over a busy city any day. A large balcony outside the window wall connected Harry and Peter's rooms, and had loungers and tables for them to enjoy the sounds of the ocean waves crashing into the cliff. The area was serene in a way Harry's life had never been.
Both of their bedrooms had a large attached bathroom, but where Peter's room was decorated like the other guest rooms, Harry's bedroom had obviously been fully redecorated for him. The three walls were painted in a warm light cream with posters of football and rugby covering them, and the room had red and gold accents throughout it, making it cozier than any of the other rooms in the home, including Tony's. It reminded Harry of a contemporary version of the Gryffindor common room, and he absolutely loved it.
"Why don't you get dressed and meet me downstairs?" Tony eventually suggested from the doorway. He leaned out to check the hall, then whispered, "Make sure you hide any of your…" he flourished his hand around, imitating Harry's wand, "If you catch my drift."
Harry did, in fact, understand. "I got it. I'm pretty good at keeping everything well hidden."
It turned out Harry's morning packing dilemma hadn't been nearly as worrisome as he'd made it out to be because the closet and dresser were filled with Malibu-style clothes: shirts of all different colors in a soft, breathable fabric, shorts, shoes and sandals to match every occasion, and a range of swimwear and athletic clothes. All of it was excessive and more than Harry could wear in an entire summer spent here, rather than a few days, but he recognized the gesture as Tony's way of accepting Harry into his life. And having lived his life in someone else's clothing, Harry appreciated it more than he could ever say to the man.
He changed into a set of red and black striped swim shorts and, heeding JARVIS's warning about the sun and Harry's British complexion, a matching swim shirt, and then followed the curving wall to the stairs. Tony and Peter were already in the living room reviewing some kind of formula on the digital screen near the balcony door. If Harry had to guess, the schematics were for some kind of shooting device, possibly for one of the Avengers, based on what Harry saw while talking to Tony in the upstairs lab.
Whatever image Harry had in his mind of an infinity pool was blown to pieces at the sight of Tony's pool. Sitting on the corner of the property, the edge appeared to blend right into the horizon, creating an illusion of the water extending into the ocean, even as high above the ground as the house sat. The patio had a large grilling kitchen off to the side, complete with a table for eight, and hanging lights and lanterns.
Despite Happy's complaints of the pool being cold, to Harry, the water felt refreshing in the overbearing California heat.
"Why don't you get in the damn pool?" Happy argued to Tony after the other man laughed at Happy's inability to tolerate anything outside of his comfort zone. To prove him wrong, Happy grudgingly entered the water, though he stayed by the stairs; clear on the other side from Peter and Harry, who were peering off the infinity ledge.
"Because I'm manning the grill tonight," Tony retorted. "Or would you prefer to skip dinner tonight?"
"Uh, I thought you can't cook?" Harry asked, his brows furrowed as he glanced concerningly at Tony. Tony had yet to actually cook a meal in the Tower, and Harry didn't want his first night in Malibu to include a visit from the fire department. "I can help you if you need me to. The Dursleys didn't have a grill, but it doesn't look much different from the griddle on the stovetop."
"Correction, my son," Tony said, holding one finger in the air at him. "I don't cook. There's a subtle difference–"
"Yeah," Pepper piped up from Tony's side, placing the bowl of salad she'd been working on at the table. "As long as it doesn't require an oven, stove, or big knives, you're perfectly capable."
"The point is, I can work a grill and I make a mean burger, too. I'm a natural born grillsman-" he turned to Pepper "-that's a word, right?"
Pepper gave a hard sigh, but reluctantly answered, "I think the term you're looking for is a Grill Master."
"Grill Master… Grill… Master," Tony said quietly to himself. A sly grin formed on his face. "I like it. You must all bow to the Grill Master or perish from hunger!"
"Oh, really?!" Pepper chucked. "Does this mean I can stop screening the personal chef applicants?"
"Uh… no."
Pepper smiled over her shoulder at Harry. "That's what I thought."
Harry and Peter stayed in the pool, mostly messing around with a basketball hoop Tony ordered for the trip and watching the sunset from the pool, until Pepper called them to set the table. Much to Harry's surprise, Tony's burgers were not only edible, but they were better than any of the takeaway burgers or the burgers they'd ordered from the SI cafeteria.
"Why don't you cook like this at home, Tony?" Harry asked, taking a bite of his second burger. "Cooking really isn't difficult if you can get some basics down. Who knows, you might not even need a chef at all then."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Tony said, swallowing back a sip of his cola, "but if you haven't noticed, I'm not home enough to consistently cook, not counting the time to learn. Plus, it's not something I particularly enjoy. I get bored a quarter of the way through a recipe."
Pepper nodded emphatically. "I can confirm."
"Trust me, you'll love who we pick for–Oh, fuck," Tony exclaimed. His tone turned serious as he stared, body completely frozen, off to the side of the patio. "Nobody move a muscle. There's a snake right over there. And it looks like a rattlesnake."
Their gaze followed Tony's, landing on a large brown and black snake coiled up on the sandy dirt near the walkway leading towards the patio. Happy moved first and grabbed a fire poker for the built-in fire pit they had running.
"Everyone, stay where you are," Happy instructed. As he carefully walked along the table towards the snake, he made a shooing noise, like how Mrs. Figg used to call her cats. Tony remained frozen, hardly breathing while watching Happy handle the snake. Harry wanted to step in, to do what he could to ease Tony's obvious discomfort, but didn't know how without Peter and Happy learning about his magic. He hoped the snake would get spooked by Happy's approach, except right as Happy's foot stepped off the walkway, and within striking distance of the snake, a loud rattle started.
"Stop!" Harry yelled to both Happy and the snake. Admittedly, he had no way of knowing if he was speaking Parseltongue or English. Harry held his hands out in front of him to appear less threatening as he gently stood out of his seat and came up behind Happy.
Looking directly at the snake, he said, "He doesn't want to hurt you. If you leave now, nothing will happen."
The snake's head turned to Harry, confirming he'd spoken in Parseltongue. "The air tastes yummy," the snake replied. As if to prove its point, its tongue flickered wildly. "I can win against the predator. I can get my prey."
The action startled Happy, and he shuffled forward, ready to strike. In response, the rattling sound increased.
"Hold it, Hap," Tony said from the table. "Give it some space."
Harry let out a breath of relief when Happy took a half step backwards. It was a start.
Licking his lips, Harry tried again to reason with the snake, "You might get this human, but there are more of us over there–" he glanced at the table to make his point, ignoring Tony's confused and panicked face. "One of them will get you. It's not safe to continue here."
Harry held his breath as he watched the snake's head shift from Harry to Happy, to the group at the table, then back to Harry, contemplating its next move. The seconds ticked on like minutes until the snake finally turned straight around and slithered down the hill, away from the patio and pool.
No one moved for a solid minute, and Harry spent every second trying to come up with a logical reason for his actions. If it hadn't been for the snake's odd behavior at the end, he would have said it was all a joke. But no, the intentional movements it made would be hard to laugh off.
Thankfully, Tony broke the silence first.
"O-ok," Tony said. Closing his eyes as he turned, Harry opened them to the sight of Tony watching him intently as he spoke, "I think that's our cue to head to bed. We have a big birthday to celebrate tomorrow, and I don't know about you guys, but jet lag is a bitch at my age."
More than ready to get out of there, Harry followed behind Happy and Peter, thinking he'd gotten away for the night. At least until Tony called out, "Ah, hang back a minute, Harry, will you?"
Harry's shoulder slumped. Even though he wanted nothing more than to hide in his room, he stopped short of the door. Pepper's soft steps came up next to him. Her blue eyes were filled with a compassion he couldn't place, as if he had done something heroic and not terrifying — because there was no hiding him talking to a snake, and normal people didn't talk to snakes — or strange. Her lips twitched up into a small smile as she rubbed her hand down his arm, gripping his forearm before going into the house, leaving Harry and Tony alone on the patio.
"I hate snakes. Living in Malibu for years, I didn't use to care. After Afghanistan… let's just say they remind me too much of my unplanned vacation there," Tony said, drawing Harry's attention to where he remained seated at the table. "So, thank you for doing-" he waved his hand where the snake had been, closer to Harry's feet than it seemed during the moment, "-whatever all that was. Want to sit down?"
Letting his feet take him, Harry plopped himself into his chair and stared at his folded hands in his lap instead of at Tony, too afraid of seeing the same fear in his father's eyes that had been in Uncle Vernon's on the day of the zoo incident.
"I'm sorry–"
"Just to make sure we're both on the same page," Tony interrupted, preventing Harry from offering to leave, "you were totally talking to that snake, weren't you?"
Harry's head snapped up at the sound of Tony's voice changing from skeptical to intrigued, possibly even excited. "Erm… uh-yeah."
Tony's face lit up. "I thought so."
"But it's not something everyone like me can do, though," Harry quickly added. "Very few… people… like me… are born able to. Hermione guessed I got it from my fath-from James's family, but I suppose that can't be true anymore. Might be an anomaly." Harry shrugged, pretending it wasn't a big deal instead of it being another thing making him different. But Tony's stare told Harry he understood every word Harry didn't say out loud.
"You can tell me these things, you know?" Tony said. "I mean, as long as we're talking in private. You don't have to hide yourself away from me."
Harry swallowed down the ball of emotion building in his throat. "I'll try to remember," he offered. It was the best he could do because, while deep down he wanted to trust his father with everything — he was already literally trusting him with Harry's life —, he still felt as if he could wake up tomorrow in Dudley's second bedroom to find it was all a dream. And if Harry had learned one thing growing up, it was to never get his hopes up, but sitting there with Tony under the warm California sky, he wanted nothing more than to believe in him.
Notes:
I didn't realize until the end of writing this that with Harry not being a horcrux at this moment and not being related to James Potter, he has lost his reasoning for speaking Parseltongue. But since I still have Chamber of Secrets (and the zoo event) happening as it did, he has to be able to speak it. So he just does.
And please forgive me if the characters act a tad fluffier than usual. I wrote this chapter during some of the lowest depths of my personal crisis and may have written the happy family I was wanting at that time.