Summary: Pepper decided to move to England to escape the insanity of New York press. Now living in London, Morgan Stark receives a letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She wants to explore this new world, a world where her name doesn't provoke a conversation about her late father's company or sacrifice. She wants to succeed on her own merit not just because of her last name.

A/N: I've basically ignored the technical years that everything happened in. Morgan is in the same year as Fred and George in this story. I hope you enjoy this story, I enjoy writing it. Granted, I'm fairly easily entertained.

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter or the Avengers. I own this laptop and a box of rice... and that's pretty much it.

Chapter One

Morgan Stark waited outside of the school building, holding her books as tightly to her chest as she could. The rain was coming down in sheets and Morgan didn't have an umbrella. School had been terrible, Happy was late to pick her up, and all she wanted was to curl up in bed under a warm blanket.

The rain was so cold and cut like a knife straight through the threads of Morgan's sweater. She knew that she would most likely catch a chill after standing out here for so long. And she knew that she was completely able to stand with the rest of the children up by the doors of the school building. Up there, by the doors, an outcropping ledge protected the children from the pouring London rain. But, Morgan would rather stand here in the rain than go stand by those monsters for another second.

Just when Morgan was beginning to think to call Happy and see where he was, the familiar black town car pulled up to the curb. Sighing with relief, Morgan practically ran towards the car. As she approached the car, Happy jumped out and met her halfway, his umbrella in hand and outstretched to cover Morgan's head.

"Hey Morgan," Happy greeted her. "Why are you soaking wet?"

"It's raining," Morgan said, briefly. She slid into the backseat as Happy opened the door for her. She didn't feel like talking about her day. Happy seemed to sense this from her curt response. Instead of prodding and poking for more information, he grabbed a warm, dry blanket out of the trunk of the car, passed it to Morgan, and began driving.

After wrapping herself in the blanket, Morgan leaned against the window of the car and watched as the buildings blurred together and the people flashed by faster than Morgan could identify any distinguishing features. It was easy to get swept up just watching the shapes and colors pass her by. It was easy to forget about her bad day and ignore the world.

Morgan was so swept up in watching the street pass by that she didn't pay attention to where Happy was driving her. She had assumed that they were just going back to the apartment, as they usually did. However, when the car stopped moving and as she looked out her window, things seemed to come into focus. Morgan realized that Happy had driven to a McDonalds. She felt her eyes moisten slightly with the beginnings of tears.

Years ago, at her dad's funeral Happy had promised her that he would get her all the cheeseburgers she wanted. Cheeseburgers had been one of her dad's favorite foods. And now, whenever Morgan got upset or when she missed her dad, Happy would bring her to the closest burger joint.

"How many do you want?" Happy asked, breaking the long silence.

"Just one, but can I get fries and a milkshake too?" Morgan asked, realizing that along with being upset, she also was famished.

"Of course," Happy replied. As the voice crackled through the drive through loudspeaker. Happy ordered Morgan's cheeseburger, fries, and shake along with a cheeseburger for himself. He pulled up to the window, paid and collected their order. As Happy passed Morgan her McDonald's bag and shake, he asked, "Do you feel like talking about it yet?"

"Happy, there really isn't anything to talk about," Morgan sighed. "Middle schoolers suck. And all the one's here are douchebags."

"Hey, young miss, I don't like that language," Happy reprimanded.

"Sorry, but it's true," Morgan argued. "And I know Mom's right when she says they're just intimidated by an eleven year-old being in 8th grade with them. But, I still can't help but think that these kids are more than the usual variety of idiotic douchebags. I… I just don't want to be in London anymore."

"You know what, Morgan? It sounds like there's a lot more than a couple douchebag kids bothering you," Happy observed. "You should talk to your mom about it. She said that this year in London was only if you're okay with it. She can always commute using the jet if it's easier."

"No," Morgan sighed. Her mom was always so stressed out about work, and her having to commute from New York to London would be more stressful than it already was. She didn't want to make things more difficult because she didn't like a few kids at school.

"Okay," Happy resigned. "What if I told your mom?"

Morgan glared at him, through the rearview mirror and replied, "If you told mom. I would lose all my trust in you and never tell you another thing about my life." She paused. "But, I mean, eventually I would realize that we've been through a lot together and come around to forgiving you and resume telling you all my dirty secrets. But, the process of that turnover would take years. I'm sure you would much rather avoid that tantrum by just letting me tell her when I'm ready to tell her."

By the wrinkles at the corners of Happy's eyes, Morgan could tell that the man was smiling. She sighed. Happy would never tell her mom if she didn't want him to. He was cool like that. Even when Morgan had punched the girl who had been bullying her, Happy just asked if the girl had deserved to be punched and if Morgan wanted any ice for her hand.

The pair fell back into silence as they made their way back towards the apartment. Morgan dipped some of the french fries into her shake and allowed herself to zone out again. They made it to the apartment fairly quickly, there wasn't much traffic at 2:30 on a Wednesday in August. As they pulled up to the apartment, Morgan slid to the door closest to the sidewalk. She opened the door before Happy had a chance to do it for her. But she did accept his hand in helping her out of the car.

"Hey, Happy," Morgan mumbled, "thanks for the cheeseburgers."

"Morgan," Happy replied, as he walked back to the car. "I'll get you all the cheeseburgers you want."

Morgan smiled, then ran up the steps and unlocked the door to the apartment. Since they were pretty self-sufficient, her mom and her had decided that the only house staff they wanted with them in London was Happy. So, until her mom got home, Morgan would be the only one in the apartment.

"Hey, Jarvis," Morgan called. "Play some AC/DC."

"Of course, Miss. Stark," the AI replied before the sound of Highway to Hell sounded from the apartment sound system drowned out all other noises.

"Morgan!" Pepper called as she walked into the apartment. "There's a letter for you! And I brought home some take-out for dinner. I didn't feel like cooking tonight."

Morgan made her way out of her room, glad to leave behind the tedious task of writing a book report on To Kill a Mockingbird. Although the essay was easy enough, considering the fairly obvious morals and motifs of the novel, Morgan found the process of explaining all of this to be incredibly boring. She would much rather be working on something that actually challenged her.

"Who' the letter from?" Morgan asked, confused. "I don't get letters from anyone. More importantly, who still uses the mail these days? Email is so much more efficient."

"I don't know who the letter is from, honey," Pepper replied. "It's over on the counter."

Pepper began to divide the fried rice into the two bowls. After a few moments of silence, she glanced over at Morgan. Morgan was staring, her mouth slightly agape, at the letter she had opened. It was a thick, yellowish parchment which Pepper found odd. But, this was London, there was a lot here that Pepper thought was strange.

"What does it say?" she asked Morgan.

"Apparently, I'm a wizard," Morgan replied.