This story begins on a Saturday
It had been a peaceful day up until a point (one we will touch on in a minute or so); one of those days where everyone woke up late, but happy and well rested. A day where it was most certainly too hot to go outside, and nearly too hot to be inside. So, the Dursleys laid around in the living room that fine Saturday, pretending there wasn't a boy locked up in his room upstairs, pretending that he wasn't there at all, and even, had never been there to begin with.
But yet, Harry Potter sat in his locked room, pushing his glasses up the sweaty bridge of his nose, wishing he were nearly anywhere else in the world. Harry Potter was, to say the least, very unhappy. He wasn't having the nice Saturday everyone else was having with the cool air and the television, but rather a sweltering day, bent over the homework he'd been assigned over the summer holidays.
Now, when the mail arrived on this fine Saturday is when the day became . . . not so fine.
Among the bills and catalogs, was a thick envelope addressed to Mrs. Petunia Dursley, written in emerald ink. The envelope was thick, for the paper inside wasn't the typical copy paper or loose-leaf notebook paper, but instead parchment, yellow and rather old looking. But the choice of stationary wasn't the truly extra-ordinary thing about this letter, but the fact that the letter had been written by a very dead woman by the name of Lily Potter. The letter written by the dead woman got stranger, however, as the contents revealed that her son was not her husband's son, but rather a bastard of Tony Stark. Upon reading this letter, Petunia Dursley, who was Mrs. Potter's sister, nearly fainted. She and her husband had raised the bastard son of one of the wealthiest men alive. Shock turned to anger, however, due to the fact that the man who had so willingly left the boy on her doorstep had claimed that she, Petunia Dursley, was the only and closest living relative the boy had left. This fact was one of the main reasons that she hadn’t taken the child to an orphanage, as the wards she had been told protected her house did so because she was the closest relative the boy had. The anger stemmed from the fact that no wards had ever been on her house to protect her family, and therefore, Petunia had kept the boy for thirteen years for no reason at all.
After showing the letter to her husband, who had been reduced to a purple-faced mask of anger, they jointly agreed to book a trip to New York, primarily to pay Mr. Stark a visit and to, hopefully, rid themselves of the child.
The boy in question, Harry Potter, did not know of this plan. If he had known, he might not have been doing his homework, but perhaps laying on his bed, wondering what his father would think of him, and how his life would dramatically change over the next few days.
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The trip to New York had been extremely uneventful. Other than passengers complaining under their breath about how both Vernon and Dudley should be forced to purchase two seats, nothing out of the ordinary happened. Harry had been seated next to a quiet man who seemed very uneasy. After confiding in the man that this was his first time on a plane, and that he too was nervous, the man had smiled and introduced himself as Bruce. Bruce still didn’t talk much throughout the flight, but did curiously glance at Harry every now and again, as if they had met somewhere and he couldn’t quite place him.
After a rather boring eight hour flight and finding their luggage, Vernon ushered them out the door and into a cab that would take them to their hotel. While the suite they were staying in had two bedrooms, Harry was forced to sleep on the sofa as Dudley had demanded he have a room to himself. Harry was perfectly fine with this arrangement as Dudley tended to snore quite loudly, gladly taking the creaky sofa away from both of the bedrooms and sleeping soundly through the night.
The next morning was an affair in itself.
It was on this morning that Vernon and Petunia planned to take Harry to Stark Tower, claim he was Stark’s son, and hopefully, make a profit. The family had packed the finest clothes they owned for the occasion, Petunia even purchasing a few items for Harry that actually fit. It was not a surprise, to say the least, that the boy was both quite shocked and intrigued by her sudden generosity. The clothes were obviously not as expensive and nice looking as the others, but they fit, and frankly, that was all Harry cared about.
Once again taking a cab, the Dursley family arrived at Stark Tower at exactly 9:00 a.m.. Immediately after entering the building, Vernon Dursley walked straight to the front desk and demanded in his thundering voice that he see Stark personally to discuss “A matter of great importance.”
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“Sir, I’ve already told you, you may not speak to Mister Stark directly. I am, however, more than eager to relay your message to him,” the redheaded woman-who had introduced herself as Pepper-spoke through a strained smile. This seemed to do nothing but make Mr. Dursley angrier, if possible.
“Well, if I can’t see Stark personally, then I’d like to talk with someone of importance. Perhaps his lawyer?” The man spat out.
Pepper then dropped her smile and pressed her lips into a thin line, “Well, sir, as it so happens, you’re speaking to the CEO of his company. Am I important enough for your time?”
Vernon paled, but didn’t lose the anger in his voice, “I suppose.” He cleared his throat and pointed a large finger to Harry, “That, is Tony Stark’s son, and I would like him to be returned to his father, as soon as possible.”
Pepper stared curiously at the boy before lacing her fingers together as she spoke, “Mr. Dursley, we get numerous claims of Stark’s children a year. I do hope you realize we can’t just take your word, we’ll need him to take a paternity test, and even then, we might have to do some digging.”
“THEN DO IT NOW!” he exclaimed, making the art on the walls shake. “I just want him gone.”
Frowning, Pepper turned to Harry and gave him a once over. She couldn’t deny it, the boy certainly had many of Tony’s features. Sighing deeply, she stood and motioned for Harry to follow her, “Come on, let’s take you to the labs.”
Harry obediently followed her to the elevator, and remained quiet and sullen the entire ride. The doors slid open to reveal a lab that seemed to come straight from a movie screen. Holograms lit the room and occasionally bounced from screen to screen. His eyes widened as he recognized a familiar face, “Bruce?”
Both the man and Pepper turned to him, both of them surprised. Bruce smiled at the pair and waved them in, “Hello, Harry. I didn’t expect to see you this soon, or even again, actually.”
Harry gave an amused grin while Pepper spoke, “We need a paternity test done. Tony back yet?”
Bruce shook his head as he guided Harry to a medical table, “No, not yet. He told me he wouldn’t be back until the end of the week.”
Pepper shook her head, “Of course. I’m assuming you can handle this? I need to go keep a close eye on his . . . family.” Receiving a nod, she turned on her heel and was back into the elevator in a flash.
Bruce turned around and grabbed a swab from the cabinet counter, “I’m going to swab the inside of your cheek, Harry. Open up.”
The swabbing was very quick and once seemed satisfied, he placed the swab into a strange machine. Catching Harry’s confused look, Bruce clarified for him, “This machine is run by JARVIS. It’s going to compare your DNA to Tony’s and tell us if you’re actually his child.”
Harry nodded thoughtfully and Bruce smiled at him, “So, did your parents bring you or . . ?”
“My aunt and uncle. I never knew my parents, they died when I was young. Or, my mom did, I suppose, if my dad’s really Mr. Stark,” Harry explained, not meeting Bruce’s eyes.
The man frowned and the next few minutes were spent in silence. It was broken, however, by a voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, “The boy is a match to Master Stark’s, DNA, sir. Might I suggest calling Master Stark in on this matter?”
“No,” Bruce said hurriedly, “Don’t call him, he’s working for once. Would you inform Pepper, though, and have the paperwork ready for her when it’s needed?”
“Of course, sir.”
“Thank you, JARVIS.” Bruce glanced at the child next to him and gently put a hand on his shoulder, “Well, Harry, welcome home.”