Chapter Text
“I don’t understand,” Harry said as he looked at the parchment laying on the table in front of him. An intricate and ancient looking dagger sat beside it, the hilt’s gems glinting in the candlelight. A speck of blood rested on the tip of the metal and Harry wanted to wipe it away to hide the evidence of the great betrayal that was revealed to him in only a few words.
Maybe if he hadn’t stolen a dragon right out of the goblins' noses less than a week before, Griphook would be more understanding. Maybe if Harry actually had any business being in this bank right now, Griphook wouldn’t look at him like he was complete and utter dirt.
But Harry didn’t have business with Gringotts. Because he didn’t have a fortune or a family will. Because James Potter was not his father.
Harry was good at going through the motions. He had to be adaptable since everything he’d ever been through had never been his choice. He hadn’t wanted to be born, he hadn’t wanted to be abandoned by his parents on the night he’d just barely escaped his own murder, he hadn’t wanted to return back to the Dursley’s after he found out said parents had been alive, and he hadn’t wanted to sacrifice himself after his brother had already been killed.
But he never had a choice, so he had to swallow down his fear and confusion, and instead adapt. He touched the edges of the parchment with the tips of his fingers and nodded resolutely.
“Sirius Black?” he asked in a voice just above a whisper. Afternoons by the Black Lake with a shaggy black dog who had been his first and only friend entered his mind and he pushed it away as Griphook grumbled, “took you out of his will four years ago.”
He wasn’t surprised. Paddy- Sirius had promised to write to him before he flew off on Buckbeak, but he never did.
Harry stared at the parchment for a little longer, just to make sure that there had been a reason he had been sent to the Dursleys. But, yep, there was Lily Evans-Potter right where his maternal line should be. But the name next to it was not a name he recognized: Anthony Stark.
Finding out that his parentage was different was not the betraying aspect that he was so flummoxed by. No, it was actually kind of relieving to actually have a reason why James and Lily Potter had hated him so much.
No, what was surprising was that he was not in fact seventeen going on eighteen like he had thought. Instead, he was sixteen going on seventeen. He did the maths in his head. That meant that he had only been a few months old when Voldemort had tried to kill him. He absently touched his lightning bolt scar that ran down the left side of his face. His mum must’ve had an affair right after Monty had been born and then she’d hidden the pregnancy.
It must’ve been easy to declare to everyone that she’d had twins since they were in war. He just didn’t know why nobody told him. Maybe nobody cared enough. Maybe they thought that since he was shipped off to the Dursley’s and was effectively a squib that it wouldn’t matter anyway. Who cared what little Harry Potter was getting up to? He was absolutely nothing!
“Now that we’ve discussed your lack of funds, I have another issue to bring up with you,” Griphook said. Harry slowly brought his eyes up to the distinguished goblin. He pushed another piece of parchment towards him.
“This says I owe you ten thousand galleons,” Harry said. “What for?”
“Theft,” Griphook said shortly. Oh, yeah. The dragon. Harry slumped in his chair and sighed.
“The thing is, sir,” Harry said as he ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t really have that kind of money anymore.” Or ever, Harry thought. He’d always been the kid in Hogwarts who had to rummage through bins and storage rooms to get supplies. He’d only ever owned two sets of textbooks his entire education. The rest of the time he’d had to borrow books from the library to get by.
“Until you do, this will accrue considerable interest. If you do not pay us your debt within a year, you will be sentenced to Azkaban.”
He’d only narrowingly escaped a sentence to Azkaban the day before when he was put before the entire Wizengamot for murder of his brother. Or, half-brother, actually. Strange thing to go from twin to older half-brother. Narcissa Malfoy actually got him out of that one, surprisingly enough. She’d given the jury a memory of Voldemort killing him and then Harry arriving to be killed himself. But he didn’t think she’d have anything to give Griphook to get him out of this. Especially since she’d been sentenced to Azkaban herself just twenty minutes later.
“A year from now or at the end of the calendar year?” Harry asked, not that it mattered.
“A year from now. You will receive a warning letter three months from now and then three months after that if you do not pay. At the end of twelve months from now, a warrant for your arrest will be issued. Do you understand?” Griphook said. He was shockingly bureaucratic about it all. Good for him for not letting emotions get the better of him. Harry had always been bad at that.
“Guess so,” Harry mumbled. But it was apparently enough because Griphook nodded and stood up. The chamber door opened and Harry was ushered out so the goblin could meet with actual members of the bank.
Harry stood outside the bank in the tattered remains of Diagon Alley surrounded by various witches and wizards trying to clean up the mess that the Death Eaters had left. He’d kind of banked on getting a ridiculously large fortune to settle down, but that was out the window. Not for the first time, he was regretting not staying dead. So, with his head held high, he strided out of the shopping district with that resolution in mind.
*
“I don’t understand,” Harry said as he looked at the parchment laying on the table in front of him. His wand was sitting next to him, which the mediwizards had only just returned to him. His wrist itched but he couldn’t do anything about it because it was heavily bandaged. It reminded him of fourth year. Ah, good times. Nothing like slitting one’s wrists by a lake only for the only crush he’d ever had to find him and then get murdered in front of his eyes just a few weeks later.
“You owe St. Mungo’s five hundred galleons for the medical assistance we provided you,” a witch said. Harry looked at the parchment, and yeah, that’s exactly what it said. He pushed up his glasses absently.
“But doesn’t England have, like, universal healthcare?” he asked. The witch gave him a long suffering look. Good to know the end of the war hadn’t gotten rid of muggleborn prejudice.
“Wizarding Britain has no such laws. You owe the hospital five hundred galleons that will accrue interest the longer you don’t pay us.”
“What if I try to kill myself again?”
“Then you’ll owe the hospital a thousand galleons.”
Well, fuck.
But he wasn’t really all that surprised. The Wizarding World didn’t take kindly to poor people. And Harry was dirt poor. It’d been obvious throughout Hogwarts that he didn’t have as much as everyone else (which certainly wasn’t helped by the people who destroyed his belongings) but no one had helped. Well, except…
Harry sighed and stood up. He signed his discharge papers and got his wand and other belongings back and then he was in the busy London streets with absolutely nowhere to go. If he went back to Hogwarts he’d have to deal with all the stares and whispers that he committed fratricide, which was the story that the Daily Prophet was adamant on printing. But also the thought of just going back to Hogwarts like nothing had happened at all in the past couple of days wasn’t appealing.
He ended up back in the Forest of Dean, hiding away in their large magical tent with its extended bedrooms and half bath. He found himself in Monty and Ron’s room. Their belongings were strewn around the room in their haste to get the goblet and then hurry to Hogwarts. Harry picked up the hoodie Monty had liked to wear and he put it on over his jumper. It was too big, but most things were.
He spotted Ron’s comics laying in a corner and thought about what his family must be thinking right about now. He and Ron hadn’t even been close. Hell, he and Monty hadn’t even been close. But the sight of all of their belongings in this room was blinding. He grabbed Ron’s suitcase and put all of his belongings in it and apparated away to the one place he had never been invited, but knew the location of anyway.
The sun was scorching in the sky and Harry had to shield his eyes to really take in the lopsided mess that Monty had once affectionately called The Burrow. He took a deep breath, ignored the maddening itch of his wrist, and walked to the door and knocked.
The girl answered. Harry knew her name, of course. It was rude not to know the name of the only other person who’d been possessed by Tom Riddle. But he also knew who she was because they could’ve been family, once. If Monty had survived and considered Harry his brother after everything.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. Her eyes were red. She was clutching the door like it was a shield. He gestured to the suitcase in his hand.
“I have some of Ron’s stuff. I thought you’d want them.”
She looked at him before her eyes widened. She was looking at his jacket. It was red and had golden snitches on them, and Harry knew he should be a good person and give it to his brother’s mourning ex-girlfriend, but the thought of giving up yet another thing made him want to break. So he set the suitcase on the ground and stepped back.
“Um, so, yeah. I’ll send anything else I find, but I’m pretty sure this is everything,” Harry said. He turned on his heel but stopped when she called out to him.
“Wait,” she said. Her eyes were glinting. “How long did you know?”
Well, wasn’t that the million dollar question. They’d asked during the trial, of course. How long had he known that he was actually the Boy Who Lived. Some had thought he had known all along, like everything that happened was exactly his plan. He hadn’t known how to tell them that he had just been a pawn in a much more powerful wizard’s chess game.
“Since fourth year. After the maze.” After Cedric, was what Harry wanted to say. When his entire life had changed. When all his hope had been torn away from him. When he had begged Dumbledore to let him die just so all the pain could stop. Oh, but Dumbledore promised him that and more. If only he just stuck it out just a little bit longer.
“And you never told anyone. Why?”
Why had he let Dumbledore manipulate him so? Why had he let his brother take the life that was supposed to be his? Why had he kept his promise to sacrifice himself a secret until the very end?
“I’m sorry for your loss, Ginny.”
Her eyes hardened. She looked at the suitcase with a twisted expression. “Which one?”
*
He stared at his still healing scar while laying in Monty’s bed. His sheets were much softer than his own. He didn’t know who to give all of Monty’s possessions to. There wasn’t anyone left, really. Maybe Ginny would like them, but the thought of going back there made his stomach knot.
He traced the scar with his finger. It wasn’t his best work. Granger had been the one to find him in his dorm at Hogwarts, bleeding out in his sheets. She still had that stupid map that Monty apparently had since third year. Apparently his name had been flickering in and out on the map and she’d gone up to see why, ever the curious Gryffindor.
She hadn’t visited him in hospital. Neither had anyone else, for that matter. He didn’t know why it hadn’t worked. It never did. And now he had a ridiculous bill to pay on top of the other ridiculous bill. He couldn’t stay in this tent for an entire year. There wasn’t enough food, and there wasn’t any money to get more food, and Harry didn’t like the idea of camping any longer than he had to.
But he couldn’t exactly risk attempting to kill himself again. He honestly didn’t think it would take. He ignored thoughts of ancient wands, cloaks, and stones and got up. He rebandaged his wrist and ran a hand through his hair. There was really only one thing left to do, much as he despised it. But what other choice did he have?
*
He ended up obliviating several security agents at the airport just so he could get on a plane to New York. He’d left the tent back in Gloucestershire for Granger to find, but he’d kept Monty’s hoodie, which was what he was currently wearing. He hadn’t ever been on a plane before, but he couldn’t imagine that it was like a train where they checked his ticket to make sure he belonged.
He didn’t have any suitcases like everyone else, just the one bag and satchel, so he didn’t need to stick around afterwards in the airport. He spent a lot of the first couple of hours worrying about how he was going to get in contact with his biological father. He’d done some research before leaving, and apparently Harry had the worst fucking luck in fathers because this one also just so happened to be some kind of hero.
As though Harry needed yet another person to be disappointed in him. Being good didn’t come easily to him. All he’d known growing up was how to lie, cheat, and steal in order to survive. He had to learn at a young age how to manipulate people’s greatest fears and hopes just so he could eat or get out of a beating. Good people didn’t do that.
Harry scratched his wrist. He’d taken the bandage off but apparently that was the wrong choice because little beads of blood appeared at the surface and he cursed under his breath. He pressed his sleeve to it and wished that he had just slit it deep enough so he wouldn’t have to deal with all this bullshit.
“That doesn’t look too good,” the man sitting next to him said. He was wearing sunglasses and a hat inside the plane like a creep, and Harry scooted closer to the window. The man was big enough that some of his muscles were spilling into the next seat.
“It’s fine,” Harry said absently as he pressed harder. He should’ve packed gauze in his bag but he was an idiot. He unstuck his sleeve and hissed as it pulled on the skin.
“Here,” the man said, holding out a roll of gauze. He’d taken off his sunglasses but kept the hat on. His eyes were narrowed in concern. “What happened?”
Harry took the gauze and wrapped his wrist. “I slit my fucking wrist, what does it look like?” He tore the gauze with his teeth and tucked the ends in. He looked at the screen on the back of the seats and saw that they still had five hours until they’d arrive in New York. He passed the gauze back to the stranger, who took it gingerly.
“How old are you, son?” the stranger asked. Harry pushed up his glasses.
“Old enough to know not to talk to weird guys who wear hats indoors.”
The man chuckled. Harry pulled up a knee towards his chest and angled his body towards the window but kept an eye out so he could see if the man tried to grab at him.
“Fair enough,” the man said. He held a hand out. “I’m Steve.”
Harry didn’t take his hand. Instead, he scooted closer to the window and drew up his other leg.
“I’m not in the mood to talk,” he said. The man shrugged and retreated.
He found himself dozing off, much to his chagrin. But when he woke up when the flight attendant stopped by his and Steve’s seats, he found that he was in the same position. Steve hadn’t tried anything while he was sleeping.
He rubbed his eyes and tried to focus on what the flight attendant was saying, but he yawned instead. The flight attendant left but soon returned with two sodas. Steve held one out to him.
“I don’t have any money,” Harry said gruffly. Steve waved it away, but Harry wasn’t too sure. “I’m good, thanks.” He didn’t want to be in his debt, not for something as stupid as a drink.
“Well if you change your mind, it’ll be here,” Steve said, placing it on his tray. Harry didn’t respond and instead looked out the window.
“You remind me of my friend, you know,” Steve said. “He doesn’t take kindly to strangers, either. Or people, for that matter.”
“Your friend sounds smart,” Harry mumbled. He played with a loose thread on Monty’s hoodie.
“Oh, he is. Always has been. Much smarter than me, I can promise you that,” Steve chuckled. He looked at Harry. “Interesting jacket. What’re those gold things?”
Harry flattened out his hoodie sleeve to look at the embroidered snitches. “I don’t know,” he lied. “It was my brother’s.”
“Yeah? Older or younger?”
Harry bit his lip. “Well, I thought we were twins. But, uh, turns out he was older by almost an entire year. And that he wasn’t actually my brother, just half.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Steve said. He sounded like he’d intimately known grief as well. Harry looked at him and saw sincerity swirling in his eyes. Harry swallowed and looked away.
“Whatever. We weren’t close,” Harry mumbled. He went back to the loose thread. “I didn’t even grow up with him. Only knew he existed when we ended up at the same school when we were eleven- or, I guess, I was ten and he was eleven. Fuck, that’s gonna do me in.”
“Doesn’t make it hurt any less,” Steve told him. Harry bit his lip again. He didn’t want to think about Monty’s corpse lying in front of Voldemort, proof that Harry had failed in every single infinite way.
“Whatever,” Harry evaded. Steve gave him an indulgent smile.
“So what brings you to New York?” he asked. Harry scowled.
“What is this? Twenty questions?”
Steve chuckled again. “Forgive me, I’m an old man. I can’t help but be curious.”
He didn’t look old. He looked like he was in his late twenties or early thirties, and his body was like a fucking Michelangelo statue. But Harry just sighed and complied anyways.
“Uh, I found out a few days ago that the bloke I thought was my dad actually wasn’t my dad, hence the half-brother debacle. My actual father lives in New York so I’m gonna… I don’t know.” Swindle him, was what he wasn’t saying. But Stark was rich, so he could handle a few thousand dollars.
Steve studied him. “What do your parents think about this? You’re a bit young to be traveling by yourself.”
“Oh, they’re dead too. Besides, I ran away from my aunt and uncle when I was six- fifteen, Jesus. I’ve been on my own for a while.”
He’d begged Sirius that one July night when he showed up to Potter Manor bloodied and bruised. But Sirius had turned him away, saying that he hadn’t belonged with them. Now he knew why. He had thought- well, maybe it was good that it had to do with blood instead of just pure hatred.
Harry remembered begging Sirius to let him in, reminding him that he had run away at his age and he’d been welcomed. But Sirius was adamant. He ended up obliviating a bed and breakfast hostess and warding off one of the rooms. It’d been a lonely summer. But what else was new?
“-kid?” Steve said. Harry blinked a couple of times and he looked at Steve hazily.
“Sorry, what?” he asked. Steve shook his head.
“I only asked if your biological father knew you were coming. You spaced out for a bit. Are you okay?”
Harry couldn’t help himself; he scoffed. “Me? Don’t worry about me, Steve. I’m just fine. To answer your question: no. I don’t even know if he knows about me. He’s in for a rude awakening in” he looked at the screen, “four hours.”
Steve rustled through his jean pockets. He took out a piece of paper and a pen and scribbled something down. “Well, just in case it doesn’t work out, you’re welcome to give me a call.”
Harry looked at Steve’s outstretched hand. He couldn’t help but think of soft jumpers and the scent of warm tea. He took the paper. He drew himself in a tighter ball and looked back at the window.
They didn’t talk for the rest of the flight.
*
He’d planned on obliviating a cabbie so he could get to Stark Industries, but it wasn’t needed as right as Harry was leaving the gate, Steve stopped him.
“I hope everything works out, kid,” Steve said. He was extremely large compared to Harry, who had to look up and shield his eyes just so he could look at him without being blinded by the sun. Steve reached in his pocket. “Do you have money for a cab?”
Without answering, Steve placed a fifty dollar bill in Harry’s hand. “Remember to call, yeah?”
Harry watched him walk off towards the baggage area before being ushered off the tarmac.
It didn’t take too long to get to Stark Industries, and he didn’t even have to curse the cabbie. Apparently Steve had given way too much money, because he had plenty left over. There was a bit of a wait to talk to the receptionist. Apparently there were people in line waiting for a tour or something.
But he finally was able to talk to the receptionist but he found that he really had nothing to say. Did he really think he could just show up at the receptionist and claim to be Stark’s long lost son?
“Are you with the school?” the receptionist asked. Harry nodded, deciding what the hell, and was handed a visitor badge. Perks of looking young, he guessed. He walked towards the elevators and flashed the badge at the ID screen.
“Weird,” he mumbled as he was given access. He wondered if Stark would be offended that Harry knew fuck all about technology. He’d never been given permission to use Dudley’s computer or even the landline that his aunt had been adamant about keeping. Sometimes he used the radio, but that was only when Petunia was out and couldn’t harp on him about listening to provocative tunes.
Sure, he went to the library and used the computer to find out about Stark, but he’d had to ask one of the librarians for help. She thought he was doing a project on superheroes.
About less than a quarter of the buttons in the elevator were lit up, and Harry assumed those were the floors he was able to go to. He pressed the highest one and waited as his stomach swooped with the movement.
He got out on the fourth floor and was met with a sea of students. A teacher was in the front talking animatedly with a blonde woman wearing a black pantsuit.
Harry hovered towards the back and toyed with the badge. A bundle of students near the back were whispering conspicuously.
“I’m just saying, what if Thor, like, showed up with his hammer?” a brown skinned kid asked.
“Thor’s in New Asgard,” another kid said. He had mousy brown hair and was leaning against a dark skinned girl. She had her nose in a book that Harry couldn’t make out the title of.
“Do you think he’ll move back here?” the original kid asked. The other boy sighed.
“I mean, it’s not exactly Avengers Tower anymore. Even if Mr Stark decided to halt on selling it after everything that happened with the Accords and everyone was pardoned,” he added with a shrug.
“Good thing the Accords were nullified,” the girl said as she turned a page.
The teacher at the front clapped his hands. “Alright, it’s lunch time! Everyone give a big round of applause to Pepper Potts.”
Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets and stayed close to the wall away from the elevator, keeping his head down so the teacher wouldn’t see him and freak out that some random kid had followed them. As he was waiting for everyone to climb the elevator and leave the floor, he looked at the visitor badge. He’d been hoping that the name of the school would be on it, just so he could save face if anyone asked, but alas it just said visitor in blocky red letters.
Much to his confusion, the kids who had stayed in the back were now in the very front talking with Potts. Harry remembered her name from looking up Tony Stark. There had been a number of tabloids regarding their assumed nuptials. Although, Harry wasn’t one to listen to those kinds of things. He’d been through the ringer enough times to know not to trust gossip labeled as news. Hell, if he went to Diagon Alley right now, there’d probably be storefronts filled with newspapers labeling him as a fratriciding dark lord out to kick puppies and steal candy from babies.
He scratched his wrist as he shuffled closer to the gaggle of kids at the front and his potential step-mum. The thought made him snicker to himself. Could he be any more of a Disney princess? He could even speak to animals.
“-I’m just surprised it’s going so smoothly,” the mousy brown haired kid said. Potts looked down at him with an amused smile.
“Of course it is. What? Did you think all of the Avengers would come here and wreak havoc?” Potts laughed warmly. The kid shrugged. His friend grabbed his arm.
“That would be so insanely cool!”
“No, it wouldn’t,” the girl said. She wasn’t looking at her book anymore. In fact, she kept stealing glances at Potts with what looked like admiration in her eyes. “Besides, Peter, do you even know all of the Avengers?”
“Uh,” Peter said, scratching his hair. “No, not really. The ones who were part of the, uh, the whole thing,” he said with weight to the word, “I only met the one time in Berlin. But they’re back now, yeah? So maybe, we’ll see. But it just depends if-” he trailed off. He cocked his head as if he was listening for something and he turned to Harry, much to his surprise.
Harry was good at blending into the background. It was required with the kind of environment he’d grown up in. He’d never really had an issue making himself as small as possible so people would overlook him. He was completely fine with it; in fact, he relished it. He hated attention. He hated the sneers and stares that would often accompany him after a vicious attack in the Daily Prophet, or when the rumor mill at Hogwarts was especially dull.
Peter looked at him with curious but guarded eyes, but it was the girl who spoke first.
“Who are you? You’re not in our class.”
The others were staring at him with equally guarded expressions. He gave them the benefit of the doubt; he was a dangerous person. Well, as dangerous as a person who kept trying to kill himself because his life was utter shit could be. He had a mini panic attack in the cab and he expected the cabbie had lowered the price out of pity. Good bloke, that cabbie. Harry couldn’t believe he thought about obliviating him.
“Yeah, I am,” Harry said after a moment, licking his lips. “Come on, Peter, we’ve known each other for years.”
Alright, this was embarrassing even for him. He sighed and waved an arm about.
“Okay, yeah, no.” He turned to Potts. “You should check on that receptionist of yours. She thought I was part of the school tour.”
Peter had stepped in front of all of them, even as Potts gave him an indulgent smile.
“Is that right? What exactly is your business here, mister-”
“Harry,” he introduced himself.
“Um, maybe you guys should go on ahead to lunch,” Peter said, looking at his friends. The girl only rolled her eyes, and the guy shook his head vehemently.
“No way, dude! I’m your guy in the chair!”
Harry looked at them in confusion before making an ‘o’ shape with his mouth. “You guys think I’m a threat.”
The others continued to look at him and he noticed Potts smiling placidly and touching her watch. Oh, that’s probably not good.
“Okay, I’ll keep it short. You know Tony Stark, yeah?” he asked Potts. She only continued to smile.
“What do you want with Mister Stark?” Peter asked.
“Do you guys really think I’m such a big threat? What am I going to do? Go to the third floor offices and annoy the interns to death? Well,” he trailed off, considering it. He probably could. He heard the elevator doors open and he grit his teeth. “I need to talk to Tony Stark. It’s… a family matter.”
“A family matter,” Potts echoed. Her smile wiped off her face and she narrowed her eyes at him.
The dorky kid gasped loudly as Harry heard heavy steps fill the hall.
“Oh my God, it’s Captain America!” the kid exclaimed, pointing beyond Harry. Potts’s expression became warm.
“Queens,” a familiar voice said jovially. Peter waved to him sheepishly. “What’s going on here?”
Harry finally turned around and froze when he saw Steve, sans cap and sunglasses smile down at them all, because fucking hell, he was big. Then Steve saw Harry and froze as well before a wide smile filled his face.
“Kid, it’s you!”
“You two know each other?” Potts asked, disbelief in her voice. Steve walked up to Harry and looked like he wanted to put his arm around him, but decided better, which was for the best. Harry was already on edge, he didn’t think he could handle another panic attack.
“Wait,” Harry said. “Captain America? Isn’t that, like, one of those Avengers or whatever?”
Steve’s smile crinkled his eyes. “Yeah. I’m surprised you’ve heard of me. You didn’t recognize me at all in the airport.”
“Airport?” Potts asked. “You two met at the airport?”
“Yeah, just coming back from London. Fury had an assignment down there. Nothing big, just checking in on some things. We were seat mates, which is odd because I could’ve sworn I bought the entire row.”
Harry sucked in a breath and shifted from one foot to the other. He forgot that people could do that. Fucking rich people.
“And now we’re the best of friends,” Harry mumbled. He turned to Steve. “So if you’re some superhero or whatever, do you think you could do me a favor?”
Steve looked down at him with an earnest expression. “I gave you my card, didn’t I?”
Oh, his face was heating up. He hadn’t had anyone look at him that wasn’t filled with suspicion or anger or deep burning hatred in… well, fuck, he didn’t know how long. Even the fucking ghost of Rowena Ravenclaw had looked at him with suspicion. “Right, but… do you remember what we talked about on the plane? Why I’m in New York?”
Steve looked confused until Potts said, “he’s looking for Tony Stark.”
Steve stilled for a long time before he threw his head back and a deep chuckle escaped his lips. He looked at Harry with disbelieved eyes. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, kid. That makes a lot of sense, actually.”
He sobered and spared a glance at Harry’s bandaged wrist, which Harry couldn’t help but scratch.
“Steve, do you mind clarifying?” Potts asked. The kids were whispering to each other, but Harry couldn’t be bothered to try to listen in. But before Steve could say anything, Harry swooped in with his usual amount of tact and grace.
“Congratulations! It’s a boy!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands out. Potts looked at him with an indiscernible expression. Harry swallowed his already dry mouth. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat. “I’m every parent’s and step-parent’s wet dream, believe you me. Tell her, Steve. Tell her how brilliant I am.”
They’d find out. Everything Harry was trying to hide from. How much of a fucked up mess he was. How he ruined everything he touched. How he’d never had a single person care about him in any meaningful way, not for long at least. Not enough for an ancient goblet that determined who would be a triwizard champion to recognize someone close enough to him that they’d miss him and vice versa. No, instead he’d fulfilled every Ravenclaw cliche and had a book as his most treasured relationship. Granted, it was a really good fucking book.
“Harry’s a good kid, really, Pepper. I think the attitude and looks speak for themselves. We should get Tony.”
Potts blinked a couple of times in shock. Peter was all but glaring at him.
“Steve, do you know how often I get paternity claims that turn out to be false? What kid with a passing resemblance to Tony wouldn’t want Iron Man to be his dad? Any mother would want to have a billionaire’s child support checks. Not to mention, these claims are usually through lawyers, not random kids who show up out of nowhere,” Potts reasoned.
“I can vouch for him!” Steve said. Harry looked at him with suspicion. Maybe it wasn’t fair of him to pass judgement on this blonde stranger, but why else would he want to help Harry? He didn’t need to be in anybody’s debt… well, other than Gringotts and St Mungo’s.
Suddenly, everything was catching up to him. He leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. He ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t know what he had been thinking. Get someone as influential as Tony Stark to be convinced that he was his kid just so he could pay off his debts? And what would happen after he had fulfilled those debts? Where would he go? What life did he really have?
He should’ve stayed back in the Forest of Dean, surrounded by items that belonged to dead people. He honestly just wanted to lay down. Well, no. But what he really wanted was something he didn’t think he could ever have again.
Those few minutes in the afterlife had been blissful. Even if the only companions he’d had was a horcrux demon baby and a book that asked him whether or not he wanted to stay dead or continue on.
“I should’ve stayed dead,” Harry mumbled to himself. He heard a strangled noise coming from the kids but he ignored it.
“Alright, Steve. But we’re not involving Tony. Not until the test is confirmed. We can have one of our on staff doctors administer the test. If you’ll follow me, Harry.”
The clacks of Potts’s heels filled the hall as she strode towards the elevator. Harry glanced at Steve but his words were caught in his throat. Steve only smiled warmly at him.
“It’ll work out, kid. I promise.”
Harry wasn’t too convinced, but he walked towards the elevator regardless. They made a stop at the ground floor so the kids could get out, much to their chagrin. But Potts hadn’t been convinced that they could offer anything. With a promise from Peter, Harry’s potential parentage had been guaranteed to be kept secret, and with that, they went up to the sixth floor where an infirmary was located.
It reminded him too much of the Hogwarts infirmary, with its sterile white walls and crisp bed sheets. It reminded him of Cedric’s worrying gaze as he stared down at him in fourth year.
Maybe the problem hadn’t been the fact that the goblet hadn’t found anyone to be considered Harry’s most precious. Maybe the problem was that the person had been another champion.
Harry twisted his wrist with his other hand and sighed a little at the pain. His wrists had been bandaged just like this that year. After Cedric had found him. While he had been on a date with Cho Chang.
He had no reason to be jealous. Cedric hadn’t- he and him hadn’t been- it wasn’t like he could’ve even-
He’d been the one to grab Cedric’s corpse towards the portkey. Monty had been busy dueling with Voldemort at the time, but Harry had only had eyes for the boy that could’ve been something to him. His body had been warm, he remembered. Even though he was dead, his body had still been warm.
He gasped as he felt his arm being grabbed. He blinked a few times and found that his expression was blurry even through his glasses. Steve was looking at him with wide eyes. Harry felt blood trickle down his hand, and he saw that the bandage had been pushed away and his wound had opened up. His fingers were bloody.
He didn’t remember doing that. He didn’t- he- he took a breath in, and another one, and another one until it felt like it was actually doing something. Steve guided him towards an empty bed and he all but collapsed into it. Potts was standing off to the side with a grimace on her face.
“You’re okay, it’s okay, kid,” Steve said softly. A woman with a lab coat was rushing towards him. She knelt on the ground and gave him a small smile.
“Hi there. I’m Doctor Shaw. What’s your name?”
She was smiling at him like he hadn’t just freaked out and clawed at his wrist like an animal. She was pretty and had a nice smile and it was directed at him even though he was a complete and utter idiot. He rubbed his bloody wrist against his knee, spreading the blood and upsetting the wound even further.
Doctor Shaw quickly grabbed his hand away from his jeans. Harry whimpered at the contact and shut his eyes, trying to dispel thoughts of Cedric, but images of Monty’s corpse replaced them.
“-ry? Harry, that’s your name, correct?” Doctor Shaw asked him. “Can you tell me how you got this wound?”
Both his arms were being firmly held. He’d never been to a muggle hospital before. Would it be like the movies where he’d be given a straight jacket? Was he really that crazy?
“It didn’t work,” he gasped out. His eyes were still pressed tightly shut and he saw stars blooming in them. “It never works.”
“What doesn’t, sweetie?” she asked softly. Harry shook his head. He felt tears trickle down his face.
“K-killing myself. It- it never works.”
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to freak out, like he always did. He just wanted- fuck, what did he want? He wanted a couple thousand dollars to give to the fucking goblins and medi-witches and then what? Burrow into the ground so he was nothing but sustenance for the worms? As if death would really allow that of him.
A laugh bubbled out of his throat. He was the supposed master but he couldn’t even master his own death? Another laugh escaped him, and more and more, until he couldn’t stop both laughing and sobbing.
Did he really think he’d be welcomed with open arms? Tony Stark had a life, one that didn’t deserve to be ruined by him. Because that was the crux of things, wasn’t it? He ruined everything he touched. That’s why Lupin had left, why Monty had hated him, why Sirius turned him away.
What had Sirius said to him after he begged to stay at the Potter Manor? You’re a stain on all of our lives. The day you were born was the day that Lily and James’s lives ended. That my life ended.
Maybe it hadn’t been a problem that his only precious person had been another champion. Maybe it was because it hadn’t been reciprocated.
He shut his eyes and then he knew no more.