On Punching Gods and Absentee Dads

Enigmaris

Chapter 19: How many wizards does it take to run a washing machine?

Summary:

Four, but one of them has to have more than one brain cell.

Notes:

Hey everyone! Thanks for all the wholesome comments last chapter. I enjoyed reading all of them!

Chapter Text

Living with the Avengers was…weird. In fact, living with Remus and Sirius was weird but at least Harry had some sort of idea of how those two acted. At least Harry had thought he'd had an idea. He hadn't. Sirius and Remus had been put under a strict 'Do not use magic at all' rule. The same rule that his dad was under. This was because the tower could only handle so much magic before all of the electronics burst into a shower of sparks. At least that's what Tony claimed.

Harry was allowed to use magic. Tony had put his hands on his shoulders and said in a very grave tone that Harry had given him the greatest gift of all when he'd punched his dad in such a spectacular fashion.

"Kid. You're allowed to do whatever the hell you want in my tower. Want to have a rave? We can have a rave."

"What's a rave?"

"Oh kid."

Of course, Loki and Sirius still used magic. They had to during the first few days to help Remus with his transformations. But if the magic didn't fall under the 'absolutely have to do' category then magic was outlawed until Tony could magic proof his Jarvis and his arc reactor. Which meant that Sirius and Remus were both…rather helpless. They'd both been raised in fully magic households. Granted apparently Remus' mother had been a muggle, a nice Welsh woman Harry learnt, Remus had still spent his entire adult life living as a magic user. Neither man knew how to go totally muggle.

No matter what Sirius claimed.

This resulted in Tony Stark almost pulling out his hair trying to explain basic concepts to wizards whose general understanding of the world could be melted down to 'have a problem, point your wand at it, and will it better'. Sirius wanted tea but didn't know how to use an electric kettle, he also didn't like having to wait the few minutes it took to heat the tea when Tony had explained how to use it. This resulted in a very dramatic (and funny) monologue about how much suffering muggles must live through. Sirius had similar problems with Tony's fancy shower, the tv, the electronic doors that opened on their own but didn't require pleasantries like the doors at Hogwarts did, and much more.

He and Jarvis did not get along.

Remus had destroyed the little Roomba robots that had been vacuuming his floor because he'd thought they were some strange spy device. Harry almost wanted to forgive Remus that but watching Remus endure Tony's 'lecture' with a small smile on his face and Harry began to suspect that Remus deserved whatever he had coming to him. Remus also blatantly refused to use the elevator alone, claimed it was too dodgy. Which was probably another blatant lie because the ministry used elevators. When Harry had pointed that out, Remus had said that the ministry elevators ran on magic which was far more trustworthy.

Right.

In the end it was hard to tell how much Remus actually knew some days.

Harry's dad had similar problems. Apparently before Harry's arrival, the man had been using magic to get away with most daily tasks. This was how Harry found out his dad didn't know how to do laundry. Really. The man didn't even know where the laundry room in the tower was. (Granted neither did Remus or Sirius but they hadn't been living here for months.) His dad also didn't know how to use a non-magical oven or the coffee machine. Even though it was one of the really fancy ones that just required you to press a button or two to get a perfectly pressed cup.

So, all of that was weird. Harry had found out his dad didn't know how to do laundry about the time that he realized he needed to do his. Which is to say the day after they got back from their trip to Asgard. Harry didn't have that many muggle clothes that actually fit him and so he needed to do laundry pretty quickly. It had been simple to ask his dad who had looked a little sheepish and explained that he rather…didn't know.

Harry had then asked Thor who also looked sheepish and admitted that he'd been putting his dirty clothes with Steve who had either not noticed the extra load or was doing Thor's laundry for him out of the kindness of his heart.

Honestly.

Harry had then asked Steve who had given him directions to the laundry room a few floors down. Then when Harry had gotten his wad of dirty clothing ready his dad had appeared holding his own pile with a blush on his face. Harry had brought the man down there and proceeded to teach him how to use the machines and how much detergent to put in. It wasn't complicated but his dad had the same look on his face that Harry normally had in Snape's class.

Harry had tried the same explanation with Sirius and Remus and found that both of them were dubious that the machine would actually clean anything at all. But at least they agreed to try it out for themselves. This resulted in Sirius pranking the machines to dye clothing into new and often painfully vibrant colors. (The permanent banning of magic for everyone but Harry followed closely after and was not a coincidence.) This also resulted in all magic users but Harry being banned from the laundry room.

Harry in his infinite kindness then volunteered to do their laundry for them. But they were folding it themselves and Harry extracted a promise of exemptions from any future pranks. Harry was not the only person non-gratis when it came to the mischief that was going on in the tower. And boy was there mischief. Even without magic those three men would stop at nothing to cause trouble.

So yeah. His dad didn't know how to do laundry and was unlikely to learn anytime soon. Sirius and Remus were both different kinds of helpless in the muggle world which only worsened with time. Thor got being helpless by playing the 'I'm an alien' card which Harry thought was rather ridiculous. He'd learnt how to cook, clean, and do laundry by the time he was five, Thor had no excuse.

Maybe he wasn't the best example.

If Harry had hoped that the Avengers would be easier to live with then he would have been very disappointed. Because as it turned out all of the Avengers were just as helpless as the other adults in his life. Steve was still trying to catch up on over 70 years of history, along with pretty much all pop culture which left him in much the same boat as the magic users who were unfamiliar with the muggle world. Bruce and Tony both had the worst sleeping schedules Harry had ever seen, and Harry had a scar that gave him painful blood-filled visions when he slept. Both men practically lived off of their preferred caffeinated drinks and sheer stubbornness.

Clint was just a kid in an adults body and had the outlook and self-control as such. Natasha seemed like she could have been the adult of the group but Harry quickly discovered she was pretty much just like Remus. A cool, mature exterior, hiding a mess underneath.

And none of them. Not a single one of them, knew how to cook.

That wasn't exactly true. Steve still had his great grandmother's famous apple pie recipe memorized. Bruce knew how to cook curry but it was too spicy for anyone but him to want to eat. Tony knew how to boil noodles, not that he could do anything with them once they were done, but still. It was knowledge. Harry assumed they all had the skill to put a sandwich together but hadn't checked for confirmation because he feared being wrong.

Thor was a prince who'd had his meals prepared by servants for his entire life. Clint preferred to live off of things that only required the ability to open a package to eat. The magic users had all used magic to cook. Harry had asked if Natasha knew how to cook and she'd told him 'only things that will kill you'.

Harry had found out that none of them knew how to cook when he'd asked Jarvis if he was allowed to use the well-stocked kitchen. Tony had stocked it with everything a chef could want under the assumption that someone on the team would know or want to use it. He'd been wrong and the entire team had begun to live off of food deliveries and packaged products like savages.

"You wish to use the kitchen?" Jarvis asked.

"Yeah. Its breakfast, and I'm feeling hungry. Is it free for me to use?"

"Yes, would you like me to pull up some recipes or perhaps instructional videos for you to use?" Jarvis asked. "I could also order you whatever foods you would like."

"No thanks." Harry said, unaware of the havoc he would be bringing into his life. "I've got it."

So he went to the kitchen. He grabbed flour and sugar and eggs and milk and measuring cups and placed them on a gleaming (and never before used) granite countertop. Harry's newly discovered godly appetite meant that he planned on making a lot of food. He paused a moment wondering if he should make enough for his dad and then decided he might as well. His dad would probably even be nice about his less than stellar cooking skills.

Harry knew he wasn't much of a cook. The Dursleys had made that clear. He knew that they ate it still but he'd always imagined it was because they were too lazy to do anything else. So, Harry knew he wasn't a good cook, but he believed himself to be passable. (Why Harry still believed anything the Dursleys told him would remain a mystery for some time yet but the misunderstanding about his cooking proficiency was about to be cleared up very quickly.)

Harry had done some quick math in his head and determined that most people in this tower could probably eat as much, if not more than a Dudley sized portion. A Dudley-celebrating-something-vile sized portion was about what Harry ate now a few times a day to keep up with his appetite, after all. So if Harry made enough food to feed Dudley five times then there should be enough for himself, his dad, Remus, Sirius, and even Thor.

He put together a meal in his head based on what he saw was available to him and got to work. Harry was up rather early that morning which meant that when he first started there was no one awake to notice what he was doing, or more importantly smell it. However soon enough Harry had filled the kitchen and subsequently the entire open area of the penthouse of the tower with the delicious smells of omelets, bacon, sausages, and pancakes. Harry was, at this point in his life, quite an expert at multitasking in the kitchen. When his relatives weren't breathing down his neck or outright sabotaging him, he was capable of doing quite a bit at once in the name of a meal.

The smell alerted the person living in the penthouse first. Harry lived in a lower floor with the other magic users and Thor. Only Tony Stark lived in the master suite on the top floor. Which meant that Tony Stark was the first being to waft into the kitchen, led there by a breeze of warm scents. The man, messy haired and oil stained from a night in his lab, stumbled in and paused at the sight Harry presented.

"What?"

"Jarvis said it was okay for me to use the kitchen."

"That's not it…kid you know how to cook?" Tony asked as Harry reached out and put a pinch of salt into the egg mixture he was stirring up for his omelet.

"Umm. Yeah." Harry said. "I'm not very good but…"

"At this point you could be the worst cook in existence and I wouldn't care, I am so tired of frozen waffles in the morning." The man said. "Can I have some?"

Harry motioned freely to the food he'd already made that was still steaming on the various plates he'd pulled out. Tony walked forward and pulled one of the plates, this one with a large golden fluffy omelet on it with a side of bacon. Harry produced a fork for him and pretended not to watch as the man took his first bite. He expected to see that look of disdain that always accompanied his aunt and uncle.

Instead the man froze, his brown eyes widening as he chewed. Harry winced.

"It's awful isn't it? Oh this was a terrible idea I shouldn't have even…"

"Kid." Tony said, his voice hushed. "Please give up on the hero business."

"What?"

"I will pay you any amount of money if you will live here and make me food like this for the rest of my life."

"I don't…"

"This is delicious! You should have mentioned this way earlier! Are the demi-god of food or something? Never mind. Doesn't matter. Jarvis! Tell Clint to get his ass up here and try this."

Harry allowed himself to be bewildered by Tony Stark for a moment longer before he turned back to his cooking. In the meantime Tony continued to eat his breakfast. Clint did indeed come up and when he was there, Tony just shoved another full plate at him. Clint had nearly the same reaction as Tony had. Which was highly unexpected. In all honesty he wasn't sure how to deal with it. Except by making more food whenever a new Avenger wandered in.

One by one they all appeared and as they did, they all got a plate. Harry managed to sneak his own meal in as he cooked and he found he didn't mind. Thor and his dad had both been very loud and proud in their compliments of his cooking. As had Sirius and Remus. Sirius had even gone so far as to ruffle his hair and call him gifted. There was a warmth bursting in his heart as he watched everyone enjoy his cooking. All the adults in the room were settled around the penthouse in whatever chairs they could scrounge up, laughing and joking. They were all so excited and happy and Harry liked that.

At least he did until he learnt the truth.

"None of you know how to cook?!"

He'd never been so disappointed in his life.

They were the Avengers and heroes, not to mention grown adults. How did none of them know how to take care of themselves? Harry listened to their justifications and defenses in a stupor. He couldn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it.

And yet it was true. It was a startling comparison to the Dursleys. The only difference being that Aunt Petunia knew how to cook and just refused to when Harry was around. Tony had not been the only person to ask him to cook more often for the group. His mind abruptly created an image of him chained to the oven constantly pushing out mountains of food for the gods and super-soldiers of the team. Inwardly he shook himself.

"I dunno." Harry said. "That's a lot of work…"

"Obviously we'd help out." Clint said. "Anytime you feel like cooking just let us know and a couple of us will help with the prep and the rest of us will do clean up. Right guys?"

"Only when I feel like it?" Harry asked dubiously. He didn't fail to notice the looks some of the Avengers exchanged with each other.

"Course kid." Tony said. "We're not going to make you do anything you don't want to."

And that was the weirdest part about living with the Avengers. When they said things like that, they meant it.

True to their word they did not ask him to cook, they did not bother him about it. They didn't even subtly bring up anything. Harry watched them around meal times with hawk eyes looking for any sort of resentment or frustration, but there was nothing. It was weird. It was incomprehensible. For three days Harry watched and wondered, trying to understand this odd turn of events. The Avengers treated him as they always had. Inviting him to play video games, or to train his strength with them. Sirius, Remus, and his dad still researched his scar and other magic things for him and invited him to help if he wanted. They all smiled at him and greeted him with friendliness. They did all this despite the fact that Harry wasn't giving them what they wanted.

They had wanted his food, right? Harry couldn't have possibly misinterpreted their appreciation of that breakfast. They'd even asked him to cook again and Harry had deferred. They didn't even complain about it. Harry even went so far as to ask Jarvis if any of the Avengers had been heard talking about his lack of cooking behind his back. Jarvis told him that they hadn't complained.

It was unfathomable.

In the end he decided to test it. He decided to cook dinner, when he walked into the kitchen with a purpose it only took three minutes for Thor and Steve to show up. Both men insisted that they be allowed to help.

"Just tell us what to do, Harry."

And Harry, unable to argue with them, did exactly that. He watched, mystified, as the god of thunder learned how to mince and Captain America tried his hand and peeling onions and garlic. Harry took pity on the captain eventually and showed him the trick of how to peel garlic quickly by pressing on it with the flat part of the knife to break the skin. The desired part of the garlic would slide right out free of it's confines. Steve had looked at him like he was some sort of wizard. Which he was but this was different.

Neither of them complained about the tasks they were given, they just did them as best they could and took correction from Harry when necessary.

It was sort of freaking Harry out.

"So Harry." Steve asked. "Where did you learn to cook?"

"Taught myself mostly." Harry shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. "Picked up a few cookbooks from the library and did my best."

"Really? That's interesting." Steve said without a hint of condescension. "What caused all the interest in it?"

His uncle had slapped him upside the head one too many times for burning breakfast and Harry had decided to do something about it. Not that Harry was going to say that out loud. He licked his lips and side-stepped the question.

"It was just…something I thought I should know."

"Right." Steve said. "Well either way you should be proud, you're really good at this."

Harry hummed in a way that implied he agreed without him actually having to agree with anything. The conversation moved on from there to Thor talking about his favorite Asgardian foods. Some of which Harry had actually had, some of which he'd not yet tried. Steve added on talking about his favorite foods, things that had since fallen out of style in the past 70 years or had changed so drastically it wasn't fair to call them the same at all.

When dinner was ready and served Harry wasn't allowed to do any of the clean up, instead Clint, Natasha, and Remus did it while Tony set up a movie for them all to watch. Tony had made the executive decision to educate the magic users in modern muggle media, and he was doing it with movies. Harry found himself snuggled up on a couch, his dad's arm around him and Sirius as a dog with his head in Harry's lap receiving head scratches with an action movie he'd never seen playing on the screen.

It became a tradition after that. Anytime Harry decided to make a dinner they'd have a movie night after. It was nice if worryingly impossible to understand. Harry explained this all to Hermione who was busy helping her parents pack and get ready to move to New York. She told him that it seemed normal to her. Her parents never made her do things she didn't want to do, unless it was something like getting her vaccines. Ron gave a similar answer although he also thought it was sort of weird that Harry didn't have any chores at all.

There was a strange feeling in the air for him now. He was afraid to ask any questions because what if that destroyed the peaceful balance? So he didn't ask. He just cooked whenever he felt like it and spent his days learning to control his strength and learning some interesting magic from his family. He did his best not to bring up the war or the prophecy. The knowledge of it hung around him like a fog. He did his best to ignore it, even when his scar twinged in pain or someone asked about Death Eaters.

Harry knew that this moment of peace would end soon enough. Hermione was on her way and she was never one to let things rest. Once she was here it would be time to work. Beyond that Remus needed to return to the Order and begin the plan to get one over Dumbledore. And yet he found himself trying his best to revel in what his dad called pockets of joy. Things like learning how to play Mario Kart or watching Sirius and Remus prank Thor's things.

He wondered how long he'd have before Voldemort would rear his ugly head again. He wondered if he'd be ready. But whenever he wondered about it too hard his dad would throw his arm around his shoulders and tell him how proud he was, and the thoughts would fade.

It was weird here. But Harry could get used to weird.