*** the good ol' disclaimer: i do not own Disney and have no rights over their material. the law says i'm allowed to write fanfic, so that's what i do.***

AN: I don't want to turn this into an angst-filled teen drama. This a story of redemption and a search for peace. Friendships will be kindled and fortified. If you couldn't tell, this is an AU.

All my ships will be CANON. Make sure to leave feedback!

Chapter 1

Harry P.: Hullo, Pepper. I'm looking for an apartment to stay at in two weeks. December 12th to January 1st. Is yours still available?

Pepper P.: Hi Harry. Yes, it is still open. Will you be traveling alone?

Harry P.: Yes. How much for a night?

Pepper P.: Well, you seem to be staying for a long time, so we're prepared to give it to you for $230 per night. I personally got to warn you, though. It's a small studio at the top floor.

Harry P.: That's alright. Amenities?

Pepper P.: Bathroom with toiletries, towels, laundry room is downstairs. Small kitchen with stove and sink. Microwave in closet. Couch folds out into a bed. Swimming center nearby.

Harry P.: Sounds good, thank you. I'll check in at around 12:00 AM.

Pepper P.: Great. When you arrive, please ask for Pepper.

His bag is packed with nothing but wrinkled clothes and his favourite novel. A pad of paper and a pencil are also stuffed into the side pocket. From Harry's memory, the pad is blank, having been bought on a whim at the London City Airport's stationary store.

The bacon and eggs he had that morning are a reminder of his new foreignness. America is a strange country. Harry Potter walks cautiously on the bustling New York street; he'd never been somewhere this busy. The people here are different than the Londoners he is used to. New Yorkers are brisk. Efficient. Scary. A bearded man in sunglasses had yelled at Harry when he bumped into him at the cafe: "Watch where you're going, kid," he had said. "Or you're going to get lost."

Harry consults his phone's GPS, hoping he is going the right way. The time is 11:20 AM - 40 minutes until check-in. According to the map, he is only five blocks away from his destination. Satisfied, Harry puts away his phone and continues moving.

The foggy New York storefronts are decorated with Santa Clauses and tacky gift boxes. Bright Christmas colours adorn the windows cheerfully. Harry watches the clouded window version of himself walking down the sidewalk. The young man reflected has a mouth turned down in concentration, a slight stubble covering his chin. Black hair kept a bit long on his head. Long purple scarf wrapped around his neck.

Harry keeps moving, looking down and refusing to make eye contact with any of the strangers shoving past him. He is part of the crowd. He is a fish swimming in the stream, with the current. And he likes it.

No one recognises him here, in this New York. No one points to the faded scar on his forehead. From what Harry can remember, people did that all the time in London.

Finally, Harry reaches the tall apartment indicated on his GPS. It is a dark red building with glossy windows and floors that seem to go on forever. As Harry observes, a group of children exit through the double doors, talking excitedly over lollipops staining their mouths purple. Pigeons peck rapidly at crumbs in front of a dark green bench.

Swallowing his insecurity, Harry clutches to his black backpack and walks through the doors. He is looking for a Pepper, he tells himself. Pepper Potts.

The blonde lady at the front desk smiles at him. "How can I help you, dear?" She asks, looking up from her computer. "I don't think I've seen you around here before. Are you lost?" Her smile appears almost patronising in Harry's opinion.

Harry clears his throat in what he thinks is a manful manner. "I'm looking for a Pepper Potts."

The desk phone rings suddenly, and the lady picks it up quickly, losing attention in Harry immediately. Harry takes it as a signal to seat himself in the lobby. He clamps his hands around the squishy seat foam, suddenly nervous. He watches the rush of people exiting and entering the otherwise quiet room. He can hear the lady whispering animatedly, running her fingers through her shiny hair.

"Harry Potter?" Harry turns his head sharply and spies a man standing aways at the front doors. Making eye contact with Harry, the man waves one large hand in the air, the other shoved casually in his jean pocket.

Grabbing his backpack, Harry jogs with long legs to the man, nodding coldly at the receptionist as he passes her. "Yes, I'm Harry Potter," he says carefully. "Who are you?"

The man tilts his head as if assessing him and smirks arrogantly. "Name's Tony. The Miss Potts sent me." He pauses. "You're a lot younger than I thought you would be. Your family got a lot of money or something?"

Harry folds his arms across his thin chest. "I just need a place to stay. I'm legally an adult."

The man shrugs his shoulders. "Guess you're right. Follow me."