NOTE: to answer the guest who posted in the comments on , I *do* have an AO3 account, also Zathara001. I've posted on both platforms since I found out about AO3 in 2014/15 and have moved many (but not all) of the works originally posted on over to AO3 as well.

Tony stared at Sirius Black, momentarily at a loss for words at the revelation that he hadn't had a trial. Even the worst mass murderers had trials, so how was it he hadn't?

But that revelation raised a more pressing question. "Why now?"

The others at the table stared at him, but it was Black who said, "Why now what?"

"You say you didn't have a trial - and I'll believe you, for now, at least," Tony said. "So you've been in Azzastan or wherever -"

"Azkaban," Black said.

"Right, that. You'd been in there twelve years. Why escape now?"

"Because of this." Black reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out what looked like a folded piece of paper. He passed it across the table toward Tony.

Tony took it and unfolded it to see the Daily Prophet logo and a headline in large type: MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE. But what really caught his attention was the photograph beneath the headline - the moving photograph, which Tony shouldn't find as interesting as he did. It was basically a .gif file in print, after all.

The showed nine people, all redheads, presumably the employee referenced in the headline and his or her family. Seven children, six of them boys. Tony winced in unwilling sympathy. That many kids had to be a challenge for anyone, and he'd bet the little girl was spoiled rotten by her family.

He looked up, but before he could ask the question on his mind, Black jerked his chin toward the clipping. "See the rat the youngest boy has?"

Tony flicked a glance back at the photo and shrugged. "So the kid has weird taste in pets. Not seeing how that justifies a prison break."

"That rat is Peter Pettigrew," Black declared flatly. "He learned to become an animagus with me and James - that's transforming into an animal - and his form is a rat."

"Scabbers?" Harry looked completely gobsmacked. "You think Scabbers is this Peter person?"

"How do you know for sure this rat is him?" Steve asked, sliding the newspaper clipping away from Tony to study it more closely.

"Look at his front paw," Black said.

Harry craned his neck to see the picture, and Steve frowned. "He's missing a toe."

"The largest piece of Pettigrew anyone ever found was a finger," Black said. "Rat bastard cut it off before he ran away, the better to frame me with. Anyway, I saw that picture, recognized Pettigrew, and knew that he's at Hogwarts. He's the only chance I have of clearing my name. On top of that, he betrayed James and Lily and deserves to face justice for that."

"That wasn't all, was it?" Steve asked, and Tony blinked at his gentle tone.

"He served Voldemort," Black said. "And Harry - well, at the very least, Harry's the only person to survive being attacked by Voldemort. I couldn't be sure Pettigrew wouldn't try to hurt Harry himself. I had to escape. I had to protect Harry."

Black's words were punctuated by the sound of a chair scraping along the floor as Harry shot to his feet. "I could've done with that kind of protection before!"

Harry ran out of the dining room, and Tony blew out a breath. What the hell was he supposed to do with an angsty, pissed-off teenager?

Still, he had to try, so he levered himself to his feet - or started to, as Steve's hand landed on his shoulder. "Let him get over the worst of the anger first. Then we can talk to him."

Tony debated briefly, but since he really didn't know what to do with an angsty, pissed-off teenager, it wasn't much of a debate. He sank back into his chair.

Black cleared his throat. "I've answered all of your questions. Time for you to answer some of mine."

"Just some?" Tony asked, more focused on where Harry had run - at least he ran toward his bedroom, not the elevator - than the table.

Black barked a laugh. "The most important. Starting with, who are you, exactly, and what's your interest in Harry? Not that I'm at all opposed to you taking him away from Petunia's house."

"Yeah, about that." Tony steeled himself and met Black's gaze evenly. "I'm Harry's biological father."

Black's fork slipped from his fingers to clatter against his plate. "How is that-" Then he glared at Tony. "Did you and Lily-!"

Tony held up a hand. "No. I wanted to, but no. My sperm donation involved my hand and a cup."

Huh. He'd expected Steve to blush - 1940s propriety if nothing else - but Black blushed almost as much as Steve did.

After a long moment, Black cleared his throat and picked up his fork again. "Why?"

"They told me at the time that James had some kind of on-the-job exposure that made it so he couldn't have kids," Tony said, adding, "You might know more about that than I do?"

Black took another bite of frittata and chewed, his expression thoughtful. After a moment, his expression cleared. He swallowed and said, "James and I were Aurors - Lily called us magical … coppers, I think?"

"Close enough," Steve said.

"We were investigating an illegal potions supplier, and James took a curse in the ensuing firefight," Black explained. "It wasn't a curse either of us recognized, and James didn't seem to have any immediate effects. We got checked over after, and James said the healer couldn't identify anything wrong with him." Black blew out a breath. "We went on with our lives, and James never said anything else about it. But now - looking back, and in light of what you just said - maybe that curse made him sterile. It was almost a year after that when Lily got pregnant."

"I've had DNA tests done that prove it," Tony said, and then wasn't sure whether to laugh or sigh at Black's confused expression. "It's a test that determines how closely related you are to someone. There's no doubt Harry's my son."

"So why were you at Petunia's?" Black asked. "Why was Harry at Petunia's? His scent was strong, as though he … lived there?"

"That's a conversation best had with whiskey, and it's way too early for whiskey," Tony said. "But I'll give you the Reader's Digest version. Condensed," he added before either Black or Steve could ask.

Even the condensed version took nearly half an hour, thanks to Black's guilt-ridden anger - or, maybe, anger-ridden guilt - but when Tony finally finished, Black sat apparently deep in thought, tapping the fingers of one hand against the table.

Finally, he looked up at Tony. "So what now?"

"Now, I need to find the meanest, most vicious attorneys - solicitors, whatever - the magical world has to offer," Tony said. "Because whoever screwed over Harry's life and yours is going to pay for it in ways they can't even begin to imagine."

Black's evil grin was a thing of terrible beauty. "We're going to get along just fine."

Harry closed the door to his bedroom behind him - just closed it, not slammed it. Twelve years of the Dursleys had conditioned him to choose his battles, and slamming a door in a fit of pique was not a battle he'd chosen frequently. It certainly wasn't a battle he'd choose two days after meeting his father, let alone two hours after meeting a godfather he hadn't known he had.

And that wasn't even taking into account the letter from his parents.

Oh, there was nothing bad in the letter - mostly a recounting of things he already knew. Things like Tony Stark being his biological father, and Sirius Black being his godfather, though the bit about Alice Longbottom being his godmother was new. Harry wondered if she was related to Neville, somehow, and resolved to send a letter asking about that as soon as he calmed a bit.

The worst part of his parents' letter was their expressed hope that if anything happened to them during the war with Voldemort, that the three of them together - Tony, Sirius, and Alice - could raise Harry.

That hadn't happened, and it was more because of the sense of absolute betrayal than anything else that Harry had exploded at Mr. Black this morning.

He'd apologize, the next time he saw Mr. Black. He'd also, per the postscript in his father's - James' - handwriting, ask Mr. Black about a map.

For now, though, he needed time - time alone, time to deal with all that had happened and with his new knowledge. Was he still Harry Potter? Or would he be Harry Stark? Potter-Stark? Stark-Potter?

Harry really wanted to talk it over with his friends. Or, well, really … with Hermione. Ron wouldn't just be glad that Harry had a family now. He'd be ten shades of green with jealousy and envy at Tony's wealth, and never see the, to Harry, better part of the deal - a family who wanted him and, he hoped, would grow to love him just as he'd grow to love them.

He looked at the cell phone lying on his nightstand, debating whether to call Hermione. But she was on vacation. He'd never been on vacation, but he doubted he'd want his friends to call him up for anything that couldn't wait until he was back home. His news, however important to him, could wait a couple more weeks until Hermione was back in Britain.

The cell phone rang, jarring him from his thoughts, and he reached for it with a frown. He'd had the phone less than a day; the telephone marketers couldn't have got his number already, could they?

Another thought occurred to him. Would JARVIS even allow a marketing call to get through?

He'd have to ask JARVIS another time. For now, he checked the phone's display and couldn't help grinning when he saw that it read Hermione.

He answered with a swipe of his finger and was still grinning when he said, "Hi, Hermione!"

"Hello, Harry," came his best female friend's voice, clearly and without the static and skips Uncle Vernon sometimes complained of. "Sorry it took so long to call."

"Long?" Harry blinked. "Hedwig just left last night."

"And she got here just before we were going to bed," Hermione replied. Then she laughed. "And of course, once Dad saw the phone, he kept us up another hour or so raving about it."

"Raving?" It had been a long time since Harry felt so wrong-footed in a conversation with Hermione. "What do you mean? Is there something wrong with it?"

"Oh, no, nothing's wrong with it," Hermione replied. "It's just not going to be available for sale until October."

"Oh." Harry hadn't even thought about that - he knew that Stark Industries made cellular telephones called StarkPhones, but since the chances of him ever owning one were almost into negative numbers, at least until he graduated and had a job, he'd never paid attention to them.

"So I guess your father works for Stark Industries?" Hermione said, then he heard her breath catch. "I'm sorry, Harry - that was incredibly insensitive. I'm sorry about your aunt."

Harry shrugged, even though she wouldn't see it. "It's - not all right, really, but - it doesn't hurt that much."

"Some, though," Hermione said quietly.

He'd thought Aunt Petunia was his last link to his parents, so, "Some," he said by way of agreement.

But then he forced that sadness aside. He had a father now, and a godfather, and that was more than he'd ever expected.

"So - I can ask, then? About your biological father?"

Harry laughed quietly. "You can ask."

"Does he work at Stark Industries? Dad really wants to know."

Harry laughed a little more. "You could say that."

He heard Hermione say, though her voice sounded farther away than it had before, "You're right, Dad - he works for Stark Industries." Then she spoke again, and her voice sounded normal. "What department? Dad and I have a bet - I think marketing, he thinks engineering."

Harry couldn't help it - he laughed, loud and hard, and kept laughing even when he figured he should probably stop before Hermione got impatient.

"Harry!"

Apparently, he'd misjudged.

He got his laughter under control, though he was still huffing little chuckles when he said, "Sorry, Hermione. It's just - I think you're both right."

"What? That doesn't make sense - how can both of us be right about where he works?"

Harry frowned at the question. While he supposed it was true that Tony marketed the company, just by being himself, it was more true that he designed the things the company sold.

"Actually, thinking about it, I think your dad's closer - Tony designs things more than he sells them," Harry said.

Hermione wasn't called the brightest witch of the age for nothing. "Tony - Stark? Really?"

"Really," Harry said.

"Wow." Hermione was quiet for almost a full minute before, "I want to hear the whole story."

"The long version or the short version?"

"Short version for now, long version when we get back," Hermione said. "Maybe you can come over the day before we go to Diagon Alley?"

Harry winced a little. "I've already been. Tony wanted to see something magical, so I took him. He … went a little crazy buying things."

"He - knows? About magic?" Hermione sounded - well, if Harry had to put a name to it, he'd say she sounded scandalized.

"He does," Harry said. "But really, he just found out a few days early. Professor McGonagall's coming tomorrow."

"Well …" Hermione trailed off dubiously. "I guess if she's coming … But I still want to hear all about it, so you'd better come over when we get back!"

Harry laughed helplessly. "And I haven't even told you the latest news, because I didn't know it until this morning."

"Should I be sitting down?" She asked with a laugh.

"…Maybe?" Harry said. "It's - well, it's both good and kind of horrible at the same time."

"That's … different," Hermione said finally. "But I was already sitting down, so spill."

And Harry told her about the dog that was actually his wrongfully-imprisoned godfather, and how he should've been raised with both Sirius and Tony, except for a series of clerical mistakes.

Hermione was quiet for a long time, and when she finally spoke, her voice was more hesitant than he remembered hearing it before. "I'm not so sure they were mistakes, Harry."

"What?"

"I could be wrong," she said quickly, "and I really hope I am, but it's something I'd like to think about before we discuss it in detail, okay?"

"I really wish you'd keep things you want to think about before we discuss it to yourself," Harry said, grumbling mostly with good humor. "Now I won't be able to think of anything besides your not-so-veiled hints."

"I'm sorry," she said. "But sometimes I talk faster than I think."

"And given how fast you think, that's saying something," Harry quipped. "I'll have to check with Tony, but - maybe you and your parents can come here? I'm sure he'll appreciate talking to someone in the same situation as him."

"Hold on a minute."

There were sounds of muffled conversation - punctuated by a few startled exclamations - and then a few seconds of silence before Hermione came back on the line.

"That sounds good, Harry," she said. "The only question appears to be when we'll actually get back."

"I thought it was the week before classes start?" Harry asked, bemused by her words.

"That was before Dad knew your new dad is Tony Stark," Hermione said drolly, and Harry could see the roll of her eyes in his mind.

"Why does that matter?" Harry asked. Ron was the one of the three with money envy, not Hermione. So why-?

"Dad's a geek," Hermione replied. "Or, as he calls it, a gadget guy. I practically had to pry my phone from his hands - my phone - so I could call you this morning. The chance to meet Tony Stark … well. Dad's half-tempted to just drive to the airport and hop the next flight home."

Harry chuckled. "Tell your dad that Tony will be here for a while. We're still, well, talking things over."

"I can imagine," Hermione said seriously. "I'll tell Dad we can come whenever, if that's okay?"

"Should be," Harry replied. "And if that changes, I'll call."

"Or text," Hermione suggested. "Either one."

"I'll get JARVIS to show me how to text," Harry promised. He could feel Hermione itching to ask who JARVIS was, but continued before she had the chance to speak, "But you should go do whatever you do on vacation. I have to go apologize to my godfather."

"For what?" Hermione asked, clearly baffled. Then Harry could almost feel the shake of her head. "Sorry, not my business."

"I kind of yelled at him, and I shouldn't have," Harry said. "To be fair, it's been a rough few days."

"Oh, Harry." Hermione's voice somehow conveyed a hug that Harry was sure would bruise his ribs if she were close enough to administer it physically. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Enjoy the rest of your vacation," Harry told her and ended the call.

When he got back to the dining room, Tony had disappeared, but Steve and Black - or should Harry call him Sirius, since he was his godfather? - lingered over coffee.

"Where's Tony?" he asked as he came further into the room.

"His workshop," Steve replied, and smiled at what Harry was sure had to be the look of complete bafflement on his face. "He's like his father - when he needs to think things through, he … tinkers. Putters. Does something physical that keeps part of his mind busy while the other part works."

"Like I go flying, sometimes," Harry said. Then he took a deep breath, summoned his Gryffindor courage and turned to his godfather.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," Harry said.

Sirius - yes, that felt much better in Harry's mind - offered him the start of a smile. "I get it, Harry. Steve told me what happened to Petunia, and how they treated you. You've had quite the time of it, haven't you?"

"It's gotten better the last couple of days," Harry told him honestly. "And having you here just makes it…" he trailed off and finished lamely, "more better?"

Steve chuckled, but Sirius let out a guffaw. "I like that! More better it is!" Then he sobered and met Harry's gaze evenly. "I'm really glad Tony found you."

Harry blinked. "Huh? Why?"

"Because I'm not myself," Sirius replied. "Nobody would be, after twelve years in Azkaban. Those Dementors-" he broke off with a visible shudder. "Staying in my dog form helped, but I need healing - mind and body - before I can be a big part of your life."

"But you want to be?" Harry hated how small his voice was when he asked.

"Oh, pup - of course I do!" Sirius glanced at Steve. "I really want to hug him."

Steve glared at him, but Harry thought it had less heat than it had before. "If you do anything other than hug him, I'll do it to you twice over."

Sirius just grinned at the other man, a little maniacally, then reached out his arms for a hug. Harry forced himself to step forward and accept his godfather's hug. He was getting better about it, but touching people or having people touch him, still made him feel uncomfortable.

Sirius' arms came around him and held him firmly, but not as tightly as Hermione had done. Harry felt Sirius' head resting against his own.

"I thought I was doing the right thing, going after Pettigrew," Sirius said quietly. "I'm so sorry."

Harry risked hugging him back. "I forgive you."

He was surprised to feel Sirius trembling. He heard a sniffle, and Sirius' voice was rough when he said, "Thank you, Harry. I don't deserve it, but thank you."

That seemed to be enough for both of them, because Sirius started pulling back in the same instant Harry did. Harry cast about for something to say before the moment could turn awkward.

The best he could come up with on short notice was, "What were you talking about?"

"How to catch Pettigrew," Steve replied, and his expression showed that he, too, was relieved to have something to talk about.

"Scabbers?" Harry said, suddenly remembering what they'd been talking about before he … well … ran off in a fit of pique, as Hermione would say.

"You called him that before," Steve said. "Do you know him?"

"Ron - the one holding the rat - he's my best friend," Harry said.

Sirius' eyes gleamed as he sat forward. "We need the rat," he said. "He's got to pay for what he did to James and Lily, and you, and me."

"We need him alive for that," Steve said. "Just showing a body and telling your side of the story won't answer all the questions people will have. The people," he added in a stern tone as Sirius started to speak, "that will be dealing with your case."

Sirius huffed a breath and sat back, crossing his arms over his chest in an exaggeratedly petulant manner. "Fine. We take him alive. But I'm going to ask to throw his arse through the Veil of Death personally. After a Dementor sucks out his soul."

"I," Steve began, then stopped, frowning. "There are so many bothersome things included in that statement that I don't even know where to start asking about them."

"I know where to start with the questions," Sirius said, straightening to regard Harry closely. "How soon can we get the rat from the ginger?"

Harry blinked, surprised by the question. "Er - um." He cleared his throat and started again. "They won't be back from Egypt until the week before school starts. But he asked me to meet up with them to do my school shopping."

"Which you already did, but will agree to go anyway?" Steve asked, and Harry nodded.

"Then what?" Sirius asked. "You meet at the Leaky? And …?"

Harry slumped into a chair. "I don't know. Ask to hold him? I've never done before, but I could."

"And once you have him, how will you keep him?" Sirius pressed. "He's a rat, remember."

"Stun him?" Harry suggested. "Lots of stunners?"

"Tony can come up with something," Steve put in, and Harry was sure his wide-eyed stare at Steve was outclassed only by Sirius' gaping expression. "What?"

"You expect a muggle - no offense - to contain a wizard who can turn into a rat?" Sirius said.

Steve shrugged. "Why not?"

"It's impossible!" Sirius declared.

"Then it'll just take him a little longer," Steve replied, and Sirius' expression turned into a puzzled frown.

"I don't understand," he said.

"I worked with some guys from the Ordnance Department of the Army, once," Steve said. "They had a slogan - the difficult we do immediately. The impossible takes a little longer. Howard - Tony's father - was like that, and he is, too."

It was Steve's absolute nonchalance about the matter that soothed Harry's concerns. If Captain America could be that blasé about it, then Harry didn't have to worry.

Sirius, of course, didn't have the same assurance, and settled for sitting back in his chair with a huff. "I'll believe it when I see it."