Thank you everyone for the comments, favorites/subscribes, and kudos! Here we see Harry get a little more settled.

As he stared at the text on the screen in front of him, Harry's entire world appeared to spin around it. According to those words, Tony Stark was his father. His flesh and blood. Harry was no longer an orphan and had never truly been one. A million thoughts raced through his mind. What exactly did it mean to have a living parent? Did this give Tony complete control over Harry's life? Could Tony prevent him from returning to London to live with Sirius? Could he stop him from attending Hogwarts in the fall? And Harry had never been a son before. What if he didn't live up to Tony's expectations for his son? What if he messed up? How would Tony punish him if he made a mistake, which was inevitable? What if Tony turned out to be worse than Uncle Vernon?

Nobody at the table had the answer to those searing questions. And even if they did, Harry didn't dare to ask them. He'd keep his head down, stay out of Voldemort's reach, and deal with Hogwarts and Sirius later. That was what Snape had told him, anyway. Living here had been the plan all along, so he should be pleased with the results on the screen. Except he found himself more confused about how he felt than happy.

"Well, there we go." Tony pointed his phone at the screen and, with a tiny wave, the report jumped — for lack of a better word — onto the device. Almost like magic. "We will, of course, make sure you get a copy of the final results," he added, turning to Snape. "Is there somewhere for me to send it? Or would you prefer it printed?"

Tony's casual tone took Harry aback, sounding almost bored, as if the outcome did not matter to him at all. As if the results hadn't just changed both of their lives forever. How could he simply… move on like business as usual? Snape, on the other hand, looked at Harry with an expression on his face that Harry had never seen before. Relief, perhaps? This made sense. The professor was finally getting rid of Harry for an undefined, but potentially significant, period of time. Not counting the whole double spy component, Snape's life was about to get easier.

"Printed, please. I have also prepared the papers to transfer custody," the professor said. The lack of emotion in his words practically confirmed that he considered Harry as nothing more than a duty he was happy to pass on. That life was easier without Harry.

"Perfect." Tony stretched his arms, cracking the knuckles in his hands as they moved. "Let's get this ball rolling."

Harry, who had yet to say anything, watched Snape retrieve one of the folders he was shoveling papers into at the hotel. This whole time he'd been preparing for Harry's what? Adoption? Could someone be adopted by his biological father?

"Harry?" Pepper's voice jolted the teen out of his anxious thoughts, and when he blinked, the suddenly claustrophobic conference room appeared. Her sympathetic smile helped his brain regain oxygen, allowing him to hear her ask, "What do you say we go get you settled upstairs while Tony and Severus meet with the lawyers? Trust me, it'll be better than sitting through the boring paperwork. Tony and Severus can meet us there when they're done. Does that sound alright?

Harry nodded, coming to his senses. "Yeah, that sounds great." Turning to Snape, he asked, "Is there anything I need to be there for?"

Harry, unable to make any big decisions in his current state, let out a deep, grateful breath as Snape's head shook from side to side.

Unfortunately, his relief was cut short when Tony scanned the documents and said, "Your name. The papers ask if a name change is being requested."

Harry swallowed down the burning bile threatening to rise up his throat. Were they expecting him to walk out of there as Harry Stark? Or was he supposed to say Harry Evans? And would whichever name he chose erase Harry Potter? Was he ever Harry Potter? Seeing Harry Evans on his birth certificate and new passport was one thing. He pretended those documents belonged to someone else entirely. Even introducing himself as Harry Evans hadn't necessarily felt wrong, either. It was almost like he was playing a game, and he knew his identity was still Harry Potter. But now they were waiting for him to decide his identity: Harry James Potter, Harry Anthony Evans, or, he supposed, Harry Anthony Stark if he wanted it.

Misunderstanding Harry's silence, Tony said, "Listen, kid, I'd love nothing more than for you to be a Stark. Really. I know that a lot of shit has happened in not a lot of time and we both… we probably need a moment to adjust… talk… see a therapist… but I want you to know if you want to take the Stark last name, I want that too.

"And if you want to stay Harry Evans, that's cool too," he hurriedly added. "I get it. It's the name you grew up with, it connects you to your mother. I won't be offended. And if you want to think about it more, that's another option. We can keep things as they are and see how you feel in a few months, a year, or never. There is no pressure from me on this. Got it?"

No, Harry didn't think he got it. He didn't want to change his name to either of those options. In his heart, he wanted to remain Harry James Potter — how else did they expect him to honor the man who died protecting him knowing they were not related? — but one glance at Snape told him there was a right answer, and Harry James Potter was not it. He was in hiding, after all. This also meant Stark was a bad idea too, leaving him with the pseudonym he walked into all of this mess with.

"Harry Evans," he finally said. Clearing his throat, he repeated louder, "I want to stay Harry Anthony Evans… for now."

Despite Tony's promise to accept whatever name Harry selected, the hurt in his brown eyes was clear. Did he really expect Harry to change his name because a piece of paper said they were related? If Snape said Voldemort would instantly die if Harry changed his name to Dursley, he would still refuse, choosing to die rather than take their last name. They were horrible people, and how could Harry know Tony would not be like them? The circumstances were disturbingly similar: a child being dumped at his doorstep. Did it matter whether the kid was almost an adult? Or his son? Harry didn't think so.

Nobody asked him for his input on anything else, so Harry gratefully followed Pepper out of the conference room. They passed the lifts they had used when leaving the Bio-Lab — where they now saw three men and two women exiting, all carrying briefcases and walking towards the conference room — and proceeded to a single lift on the far outside wall.

Pepper scanned her badge and pressed her thumb onto the keypad to the right of the lift door. "This goes up to our apartment and the Avengers floors. Happy will set you up with your credentials, which he will code to the precise floors you're permitted to be on. Sorry, only the places appropriate for a fourteen-year-old."

Almost fifteen, Harry thought to himself. Not that it really mattered. Given what, and who, else the Tower housed, he assumed the type of floors she referred to were confidential, dangerous, or both.

Throughout the short ride up to the eightieth floor, Pepper did all the talking. She stated that most of the other full-time occupants of the tower were out "working". They had been gone for about a week but were due home any day. Harry didn't ask what "working" entailed, and Pepper didn't elaborate.

Unlike the other corridors where the lifts dropped Harry off, each of which had at least two halls branching from it, this lift opened to a small landing. With simply a mirror and a tiny table directly in front of the lifts and four doors, one on each side of the lift and one at either end of the landing, it was far from the luxuriousness Harry imagined after seeing what he considered were the more boring areas of the Tower.

"Tony added the vestibule in the rebuild," Pepper offered, as if reading his mind. "He's very security conscious and didn't like the elevator opening up straight into our home. It took some deliberation about how to design it all, and in the end, it cut the space in our home almost in half," she pointed to the plain door on the right side of the landing — whatever lay beyond it also belonged to them, "but it's worth it for his peace of mind."

Harry remained silent as he followed her to the right-hand door, where a wreath of white and yellow daisies hung as a welcome sign. Another biometric keypad sat on the side of the door, and Pepper opened it with a tap of her finger, again promising Harry his own codes soon.

If the blandness of the vestibule had underwhelmed Harry, then their actual home more than made up for it. Harry entered his new home in awe, much as he had when he first walked into Hogwarts' Great Hall, feeling a little out of place in his worn sneakers, thinned-out jeans, and too-large shirt. A guest bathroom and laundry room were located at the beginning of a long corridor off the entrance, but Harry was too captivated by the floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall windows directly in front of him to notice them. Enamored by the sight, he walked straight to the living room windows, stopping only inches away to take in the breathtaking views of the city. From here, watching the impossibly tiny cars below him, he could almost forget about everything else in his equally impossibly chaotic life.

"It's such a gorgeous city," Pepper said, startling him, for which she quickly apologized. "The sunset is beautiful from here, but there's a spot upstairs that, in my opinion, beats it with little competition."

Harry gave her a sideways glance. "You're a little biased, don't you think?"

Pepper smirked. "Maybe a bit."

The rest of the living room was as impressive as the view. With so much natural light streaming in through the wall of glass windows, he easily forgot they were within a tower rather than a house on the ground. An extravagant fireplace on one wall had a television above it that would make Dudley cry. According to Pepper, it had "pretty much any movie or video game available" because Tony enjoyed watching movies on the big screen on the weekends and always had the video games on hand for when Rhodey — Tony's best friend, whom Harry would meet soon — visited. All Harry had to do was tell JARVIS the name of the movie or game he wanted, and the AI would make it happen. Harry didn't play video games or watch movies, but Pepper seemed excited about it, so he let her believe whatever she wanted.

Two remarkably comfortable looking cream-colored sofas were perpendicular to the fireplace, with a dark wooden coffee table between them, all on top of a rug that looked like it'd be soft on bare feet. The coffee table held a series of books on the lowest shelf, along with a few puzzle boxes Pepper mentioned she did occasionally. Across from the sofas and fireplace was a workstation with computer screens on a large desk and a small rolling chair. Pepper claimed that was where Tony worked on his "I can't stop thinking about this project, but I need to be home" projects. Based on her clipped tone, it sounded like Tony worked there more than Pepper liked, possibly explaining the readily available puzzle boxes.

A glass dining table with ten red plush seats separated the living area from the large open kitchen opposite the wall of windows. Oddly enough, the table was already set for three, complete with ceramic white plates, silverware, and glass goblets. Beyond the table, an island made of a white and dark gray speckled countertop held the sink and five high-backed black stools on one side, creating a more casual eating spot. Along the back wall sat the stainless-steel refrigerator, stove, and oven, and the white cabinetry throughout gave it a professional appearance. Although Pepper mentioned they usually either ordered in food or ate in the Avenger's shared kitchen upstairs, when she pushed on the cabinet at the end of the kitchen, it opened to reveal a pantry stocked full of snacks and other foods. All of it, Pepper emphatically told him, Harry was welcome to any time. Already, life in New York seemed better than it had with Dursleys. At least they didn't expect him to cook every meal — and if he chose to cook, it'd be on the awesome professional cooktop — and he'd have more than one meal a day, plus permission to snack.

Pepper showed Harry the doors to her office and the master bedroom, both on the other side of the fireplace, before leading him to the other side of the living room towards his bedroom. Besides Harry's bedroom, this part of the house included two more guest rooms and a linen closet. Pepper said they had chosen the larger room of the three for Harry in the center of the corridor, but he could change to one of the other if he wished. Harry didn't care what room he dumped his backpack in and "claimed" as his own. A bedroom was just a place to sleep.

Like everything else lately, he was wrong.

If Harry had to guess, he'd say his new bedroom was larger than all the Dursleys' bedrooms combined. It even had a sitting area to the right with a modest sofa, two bookcases, a desk, and a television. Two doors across from the queen-size bed led to his private walk-in closet and bathroom. Having never had a private bathroom before, going from sharing with Dudley to the Gryffindor boys — the bathroom was almost better than the bedroom. Almost.

Continuing from the living room, the outer wall had floor-to-ceiling windows and a long padded bench ran along the windows, the length of the room. From his bed, he'd be able to wake up to the sight of the sky, as if he were flying, or sit on the bench at night to watch the busy city below him. A set of heavy navy blue curtains framed the windows, connecting the colors of the room together. Pepper showed him the blackout feature for sleeping, but Harry had no intention of using it for any extended amount of time; the view was too amazing to cover up.

But what struck Harry more than the lavishness and size, the thing that had him brushing away a stray tear from his cheek, were the minor things that had clearly been added recently to transform the room from an adult guest room into a teenage boy's bedroom. The scent of fresh paint highlighted the tasteful light blue color on the walls with a dark blue accent wall behind the queen-sized bed. The crisp gray and white striped linens on the bed, alongside more pillows than Harry needed, appeared to have never been slept on. Small baskets containing pencils, markers, pens, and several notebooks were placed on top of the desk, perfect for a no-maj teenager to work on his summer assignments.

Pepper cleared her throat from the doorway behind him. "Tony was adamant that he wanted you to feel welcomed… feel at home. So we painted and replaced the old guest room furniture with newer, younger pieces. We didn't know your favorite colors were red and gold when we chose the paint colors. Trust me, Tony would have been all over that last night if he knew. So, if you want to change anything—"

"It's perfect, thank you." Harry turned in a circle to take it all in before facing Pepper. "But Tony didn't know… the truth… until less than an hour ago. What if the test had been negative?"

Pepper gave him a slight shrug. "Two things you'll discover about Tony – he works fast, and he makes what he wants happen, whatever the cost. And today, if that test was positive, he wanted you to come home to an actual bedroom… not a guest room… even if it meant tearing it all out tomorrow to convert it back."

Harry nodded, unsure how to express the deep level of gratitude welling up in his chest. His last bedroom was more or less forcibly given to him, and the one before it was under the stairs. So having a bedroom to call his own was already an improvement, even without adding in any of the personal touches.

"Thank you," he said again; the best he could do.

"You are welcome, Harry." She gestured to the bag he had placed at the foot of the bed, and stated, "There are some basic clothes in the dresser in the closet. A few pairs of jeans, several shirts, and a set of pajamas. We weren't sure what you'd be bringing from England or how long it'd take to get the rest of your belongings over."

"Erm…" Harry clenched his teeth, embarrassed at the answer. "This is pretty much it."

"Ok," she said, no trace of judgment in her voice or question about why he didn't have any other belongings, something Harry greatly appreciated. "We can go out tomorrow to pick up whatever else you might need."

Nothing about going shopping sounded enjoyable. Still, Harry nodded. The phone in Pepper's pocket ran, saving them from the awkwardness growing between them.

"I'm sorry. I really need to take this." She raised her phone to reiterate the call coming in. "Why don't you get settled and we'll come find you once Tony is home? There are fresh towels under the bathroom sink and the shower is stocked with toiletries if you'd like to freshen up a bit. There is soap, shampoo, toothpaste, and a toothbrush in there."

Showering sounded like the best idea in the world. Harry had tried to avoid using the disgusting one at the motel as much as possible. While his standards were rather low, he drew the line at the mold spots and blood-like substance coating the wall, so only took two showers in the four days they were there, each lasting no more than five minutes. How Snape used it every night, Harry didn't want to know, assuming he was actually in the shower whenever it ran.

His new bathroom, decorated in various gray and white with marble floors, a sleek straight-lined gray vanity, and a glass-enclosed shower, was bright and clean, in a very different way than Aunt Petunia's sterile one. A faint citrus aroma around the room and natural light coming in through the long window over the shower completed the pleasant atmosphere, making it by far the fanciest bathroom Harry had ever stepped foot in. He stayed in the shower longer than he intended to for no other reason than he could. No one was standing outside the door waiting to barge in if he went one second over his allotted time, and he didn't have to worry about Seamus or Ron taking his towels for their "prank of the week". The shampoo and body soap on the tiled inset had the same citrus fragrance as the rest of the room, and Harry washed his hair twice to ensure he removed any grime from the previous five days.

Rather than digging into the clothes Tony and Pepper bought for him, Harry chose his second best pair of jeans from Ron — a just-a-little-too-short three-time hand-me-down — and a basic gray short-sleeved shirt. After a quick comb of his unmanageable hair, he felt prepared to face the rest of his weird day.

Walking out of the bathroom to Snape standing at the window waiting for him was not part of the plan.

"You should have knocked," Harry muttered. Grabbing his backpack, he began unpacking his few belongings, mostly to give him something to do other than stare at the professor. He quickly realized there was no loose floorboard in his room's tile flooring to hide his magical items, so he was forced to leave his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map in the bag for now. Sirius's mirror and his wand went in the top bedside table drawer to keep nearby. Since Snape had paused his moving picture album — promising the charm was reversible — Harry placed it on the top of the bedside table.

"Would you have heard me from the shower?"

Harry didn't humor him with an answer. They both knew he would not have, nor would have rushed out either. Instead, Harry moved on to filling his desk; using the thin upper drawer to store the letters he received from his friends throughout the previous summers, and then placing the now innocuous-looking books — once again thanks to Snape charming them to appear muggle before they leaving the abandoned warehouse — along the top edge. There were also new books there, too, from Tony and Pepper. A few on cars called 'Hot Rods', American sports, and three mystery novels Harry would probably never read.

While working with his back to the professor, so he wouldn't have to see his reaction, Harry asked, "Did my sale go well? Nothing surprising popped up?"

"No funds were exchanged. Ergo, you were not sold as you dramatically make it sound," Snape smoothly replied. "Everything is set, however. Most importantly, I have assured your privacy here and Stark will keep you safe."

Harry whipped around. "How did you 'assure my privacy'? That sounds suspicious."

Harry shuddered at Snape's cunning grin. Definitely suspicious. "As I anticipated, there were several non-disclosure agreements, each preventing me from speaking about any of this to the press. Therefore, adding my own similar agreement — with emphasis on how Lily purposely kept her son away from him and the proverbial spotlight — was not out of line. I also verbally informed Mr. Stark of the consequences should I find you in even the background of a magazine picture."

Harry let out a humorless laugh. "And he went for it? Said, sure ok?"

Snape's head swayed a bit, feigning contemplation. "Not entirely. But we have an understanding with one another."

"Whatever." Ultimately, Harry didn't care about those details either and he went to resume unpacking when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Snape's duffle bag was at the professor's feet. Harry jutted his chin at the bag. "Aren't you going to go unpack? I think you're staying in the room next door."

Snape did not move. Not to pick up his bag or open the door to check on the room Harry was sure the man would stay in. He just continued to gaze at Harry, not even blinking his impossibly black eyes.

"Absolutely not," Harry exclaimed, having concluded that the professor expected to spend the night in Harry's bedroom. "You can't stay here! There are at least a hundred different rooms in the Tower besides the other two guest rooms next to mine. Pick any of those! I am done sharing a room with you!"

When Snape eventually bent down and gently placed his duffle bag over his shoulder, Harry beamed with pride, but his stomach fell as soon as Snape said, "I have a portkey to catch."

"What?!" Did that mean he wasn't going to stay at all? The news should have made Harry ecstatic inside; he had already spent enough one-on-one time with the man to last him a lifetime, so he should have been celebrating being rid himself of him so soon. But all Harry felt was panic. "You're leaving me here?"

A fire in Snape's previously empty eyes caused Harry to take a step backwards. "Do you have a better alternative? The Dark Lord will have surely noticed my absence by now. And if he does not notice that it coincides a bit too closely with yours, I guarantee you that one of my colleagues certainly will."

"But you can… like… fly there, right?" Harry sat down on the edge of his bed facing Snape. "It's how everyone showed up at the graveyard."

The graveyard. One advantage to the craziness of the previous five days was that he'd been so preoccupied he had not had the capacity to think about the graveyard. Eventually, that would end, and he dreaded that day.

"It's called apparition and international apparition has an incredibly high risk of splinching," Snape snapped as if Harry had asked the most ridiculous question in the world. "I don't care what Dumbledore or Black thinks, you are not worth the loss of a limb."

Although he had never heard the term 'splinching', based on the context, it didn't sound pleasant.

"What am I supposed to do here?" Harry argued. "Sit on my arse and wait?"

"Precisely," Snape replied, in a somewhat calmer tone. "Live your life here. I will return periodically to check in on you, especially if it looks to continue into the school year." Harry went to argue about returning to Hogwarts, but Snape interrupted him by holding up a mirror similar to the one Sirius gave Harry. "Sirius modified the enchantments of your mirror to include me. If you need either of us in an emergency, all you need to do is say either of our names."

Harry's lips pressed into a thin line. "Is it Snape? O-or Sever–"

"Snape will suffice," he said. "Merlin forbid you need it and get confused about which name to use."

There were no goodbyes, good luck, or see you laters exchanged between them. It would have been awkward if they had. Snape just strolled out the door, leaving Harry in the hands of people neither of them knew, without so much as looking back.

Harry hadn't realized he had fallen asleep until a noise from somewhere above his head startled him awake.

"Master Harry?"

Harry sat up in his bed, confused at the sight of the strange room — too bright to be Hogwarts, too big to be Dudley's old room, and definitely not the cupboard. Then, all of a sudden, the events of the last few hours came crashing down on him. New York… Avengers Tower… Tony Stark… his real father… Snape left.

"Master Harry?" The voice above Harry repeated, startling him so badly he rolled right off the edge.

Right. JARVIS.

"Master–"

"I'm here!" Harry yelled from the floor, feeling a bit stupid for answering when no one was physically in his room. He sat up and shook his head to clear it.

"Oh, good." The disembodied voice sounded relieved. Could a computer program be worried? "I've been asked to tell you dinner is ready and your presence is requested in the kitchen."

"Uh, sure," he replied, only half comprehending the message.

"Thank you. I will let Sir know to expect you."

As he slowly stood, taking his time to appreciate the darkened, not quite dusk, sight outside his window, a terrible conclusion dawned on him. If JARVIS could hear him, and possibly see him, then he heard everything Harry and Snape talked about a few hours ago. If he heard it, it wouldn't be a hard jump to assume he'd tell Tony about Harry having to hide here or about some Dark Lor and things called apparition and splinching.

"Erm, JARVIS?"

"Yes, Master Harry."

He grimaced. He'd have to address the "Master" part later. "I didn't realize you were in my bedroom."

"I am accessible everywhere, save the restrooms. However, I am restricted to audio-only in all the bedrooms."

"Great," Harry grumbled. Unsure what to do, and not wanting to call Snape so soon, he cradled his head in his hands to think through his options: either he had to hope Tony didn't question the odd conversation, or he'd have to let the cat out of the bag before he heard them.

Thankfully, the solution came a few seconds into his panic attack when JARVIS added, "You should also know the privacy protocols in place for all the bedrooms in the Tower. These protocols prohibit me from sharing the audio recordings, unless under specific life-threatening conditions."

His head snapped up. "Really? You can't share anything you hear?"

"Unless there is a life-threatening condition, that is correct, Master Harry."

Reading, or in this case listening, between the lines, he was safe for now. Tony could change the protocol anytime, so going forward, Harry would need to be careful. Not that he had any reason to talk about magic.

"Thank you, JARVIS."

Finally ready to meet Tony and Pepper for dinner, Harry opened his bedroom door and followed the scent of pizza towards the kitchen. Seven boxes of pizza sat on the island, and the three formal place settings that Harry had seen on his tour had been replaced with paper plates and red plastic cups. Tony was seated at the head of the table, closest to Harry, with Pepper beside him, leaving Harry's chair facing the window across from her.

"There he is! The fruit of my loins," Tony too loudly announced, jumping from his seat to greet Harry. He exaggeratedly showcased the large boxes of pizza lined up. "We ordered pizza for dinner tonight. I swear we'll try to cook some actual meals… healthy things with broccoli and shit. That's what kids are supposed to eat, right?"

"I don't think I'd know." Harry grabbed the offered plate and peeked into the first box. "Pizza is fine."

Tony fidgeted uncomfortably next to him. "I wasn't sure what you liked, so I got a few different options–"

"Too many," Pepper added, still at the table.

"From closest to furthest we have plain cheese, veggie… that's Pepper's favorite… meat lovers, supreme, Hawaiian, barbecue chicken, and a bacon one. That's my favorite." He lifted the lid to each box as he listed them, then seamlessly added over his shoulder to Pepper, "And I figured with a teenage boy hanging around, having leftover pizza in the fridge is a requirement now. Ok?"

Harry grabbed a slice of cheese, veggie, and Hawaiian — he had never tried a Hawaiian pizza —, pausing in front of the last box before adding a slice of bacon to the top.

"Bacon is my favorite, too. Well, bacon and green olives," Harry said, joining Pepper at the table followed shortly by Tony, who gave Pepper a not-so-quiet 'ha' at them sharing something as trivial as their favorite pizza toppings. "You could've just asked me what kind I like, you know? It probably would've saved you at least three pizzas worth."

Tony brushed off his concern. "You were fast asleep on your bed when I got to your room and I didn't want to disturb you. Any of the pizza you don't like, I'll send upstairs. Steve and Bruce are basically goats. They'll eat practically anything."

Pepper rolled her eyes, hard, and just like that, the ice between them broke.

During dinner, Tony appeared calmer than when Harry last saw him in the conference room. They talked about Tony attending MIT at Harry's age — comparing his experience to Harry's boarding school they both agreed it was cooler to live with kids his own age —, Tony's recent decision to move from his Malibu beach house to New York, and what he actually does for Stark Industries, which seemed like a lot of random things to Harry. Tony answered all of Harry's questions including, what were his parents like, how it felt to fly in a metal tube, and whether he had returned to London since meeting Lily Evans. As far as Harry could tell, he answered all of them honestly, though Harry wasn't sure he would know if he had lied. The hardest part was when Tony turned the conversation around and asked Harry a few of his own questions. Had he ever traveled outside of the UK before? Did he have a girlfriend… or a boyfriend when Harry denied the girlfriend question? How attached was he to his Scotland boarding school?

None of them mentioned any of the serious topics. Nothing about Harry's childhood, or how this was literally the second family he'd been dropped into, nothing about Snape or their strange relationship, and nothing about his mother, which Harry didn't really want to know about; some things were best left alone. He wasn't naïve enough to believe certain things would never come up, but he was glad they saved them for later. They needed a chance to get to know each other before diving into the complicated mess of a relationship they found themselves in. But if Harry had it his way, and he rarely did in life, they'd never discuss anything more than 'When did Pepper move in?'.

As the sun sank below the horizon, the lights in the room automatically changed to offer the ideal evening lighting, much like the lanterns around Hogwarts. In fact, the entire penthouse reminded Harry of a different kind of magic. Here, the lights adjusted depending on the time of day and who was in the room. At Hogwarts, the lanterns turned themselves on and off during the day and night, inwardly laughing at the image of McGonagall or Snape strolling about the castle, lighting them all and then extinguishing them at curfew. At Hogwarts, there were ghosts, talking portraits, and moving armor, but here he had an all-seeing AI that Harry still did not fully understand what he could or couldn't do, moving robotics he saw in labs as they passed that appeared to be working independently, and a group of superheroes who lived somewhere in the building. Hogwarts had moving staircases to transport students to different parts of the castle, while Avengers Tower had a series of different lifts programmed to allow specific personnel to access specified floors depending on their badges and biometrics. The irony — that magic and technology didn't work together — wasn't lost on Harry and he could only imagine the possibilities if they did.

Midway through a rather hilarious conversation comparing British words to their American counterparts — a windscreen to windshield, boot of the car to the trunk, which almost hurt Harry's mouth to say, and Pepper's favorite, rubbish bin for trash can — Harry let slip a big yawn.

"Well, I believe that's our cue, Tony," Pepper said. She started collecting the plates, but Harry did not give his plate or cup to her. Nobody had to clean up after him. He was just stratified by not being forced to clean up after everyone else.

"Shit," Tony muttered, dramatically checking his watch. "Am I supposed to set a bedtime or something? Teenagers don't have bedtimes, do they?"

"No, not really a bedtime," Harry replied. Technically, he had a curfew at school and a time to be locked in his room at the Dursley, but neither dictated a time to go to sleep in his bed. To avoid going into the details of his previous home life, he stated, "We have a curfew at school to be in our houses… erm… those are the different dormitories connected to a common room where we can hang out after curfew. The younger kids might have a time they need to be in the dorms, but usually it's in the house by ten."

"Ten it is!" Tony exclaimed, rather proud of himself. "Then, so long as you can get up for whatever we have going on the next day, I am the last person to tell you how much sleep to get. Most nights, I'm lucky to catch more than two or three."

Pepper's lack of laugh, at what Harry took as a joke, did not go unnoticed.

As Harry followed Pepper to the rubbish bin, which she swore she'd be calling it from now on, a fiery tremor shot straight down Harry's right arm. Caught by surprise, the teen lost control of the plate in his hand and dropped it to the floor, where a half-eaten slice of pizza landed face down on the rug. Then suddenly, Harry's legs felt as if they had turned to jelly and he found himself on his knees next to the pizza, clutching his right arm to his check. Voldemort's phantom voice taunted him, yelling "Cruico!" in his ear, threatening to drag his mind back to the graveyard until a set of hands on his shoulders grounded him there… in New York… with his father.

Words spoken rapidly above his head sounded like they were underwater, but Harry gathered himself enough to stammer out, "M'o-ok." When he eventually opened his eyes, he was met by the pizza on the floor, soaking the cream-colored rung in crimson pizza sauce. He hastily picked up the pizza and tried to grab a napkin to clean up his mess, but the hands on his shoulders tightened, preventing him from standing up. "I-I'm so sorry. Let me fix it. I can fix it…"

"Hold it right there." The twinge of concern in Tony's voice prompted Harry to actually listen. "We can clean the rug. Trust me. Not a problem. All I need to know is what happened to your arm. Has it done that before?"

"It's fine." With the tremor done, Harry stretched his arm out and squeezed his hand into a fist to show that everything was fine. Unfortunately, the gesture did not soothe the two pairs of worried eyes watching him. Thinking quickly, Harry lied, "I… erm… got hurt playing rugby with some friends right before I left Surrey. The doctor said it might tingle if I move it the wrong way, but it'll get better. I promise."

Neither Tony nor Pepper looked convinced. Still, Tony wrapped his arm around Harry's waist to help him stand, bringing them closer together than they had been all day; an awkward moment for both of them.

"I promise, I'm fine," Harry repeated to reassure them again. "If it's alright with you, I'm going to head to sleep. It's been… a long day after a long few days."

It seemed as if Pepper was going to argue with him, but Tony spoke ahead of her, nervously saying, "Absolutely. Uh, if you need anything, our room is on the other side of that wall." He extended his hand toward the living room fireplace. "You can just… y'know… come get us. You should probably knock first unless it's an emergency-emergency. Or you can always ask JARVIS to get us for you. Uh, we keep a stocked first aid kit somewhere in here–"

"There's one in the first kitchen drawer to the right of the refrigerator," Pepper offered, and Harry didn't miss the way she snaked her hand down Tony's fidgeting arm to calm it.

"Yes," Tony said more confidently. "And there's some basic medicine in the cabinet above that drawer. Standard home care stuff, Tylenol… or Paracetamol, as you Brits call it. But we have a whole med wing upstairs if anything–" Pepper's cough got Tony back on track. "As the real adult in the household, Pepper's usually up early. I don't have much planned for tomorrow, so get some good rest and, uh, I'll see you in the morning."

"G'night," Harry respectively murmured, and made his way to his room, pretending he didn't hear Tony's sigh of relief as soon as he was out of view.

Harry grabbed his pajamas from his backpack and discovered a little bag of Anti-Cruciatus potions, enchanted silent so nobody would hear the bottles clinking, hidden beneath them. A note written in Snape's all too familiar script fell out of the bag when he pulled the potion out to drink.

Take two potions every three days (one before breakfast, one before bed) until the tremors subside. This should get you through until I visit again.

"Funny how he didn't mention this," Harry grumbled to himself, popping the cork and downing the thick liquid. The taste of the syrupy potion wasn't the worst he'd ever had — that honor went to the Skele-gro in his second year — but he still grimaced at the black licorice aftertaste.

Now he had to figure out where to store it. Knowing JARVIS had no visuals in the room and the bag spelled quiet, he only needed to hide the contents out of obvious sight from any visitors to his room. That removed his desk, bedside table, and bathroom, leaving him his closet or dresser. Pepper, or someone, had already filled his drawers with clothing, so he eliminated the dresser and he decided to store it in his backpack on the highest shelf he could reach. Nobody would have any reason to open it, so no one would come across it by accident.

About ten minutes later, Harry slid into the most comfortable bed he'd ever slept on, ready to put the events of the day behind him. He fell asleep on that first night completely unaware of Tony's developing suspicions of Harry and his circumstances, and certainly unaware that over 3000 miles away Severus Snape lay at the feet of Voldemort, suffering through yet another round of the Cruciatus Curse as his punishment for losing Harry Potter.

I know Tony is still a little distant. I promise he will eventually come around. Being a year out from the New York invasion, he still has a lot that he has to work through. It's a bit of a slow-burn to get there though. I wanted to give Harry and Tony separate chapters on how they handle the news, so next up will be Tony's POV (continuing on from this chapter, not going backwards) where he starts to see that some of Harry's story and history don't make a lot of sense.