AN: Hey everyone! It's been a little while since the last update, and I really appreciate your patience! Between exams and life, writing took a backseat, but I'm so excited to finally share Chapter 3 with you all. I can't promise super fast updates going forward, but I swear this story is far from over.
As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts! If you catch any errors or things that seem off, feel free to point them out. I'm working hard on the plot, and your feedback helps keep everything moving smoothly. Thanks so much for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Chapter 3
Harry wandered down the bustling streets of the city, his green eyes scanning the windows of shops and restaurants. His jeans and simple t-shirt helped him blend in, though the faint hum of magic in his core kept him feeling like an outsider. The soft scent of freshly baked bread caught his attention as he passed a small, inviting bakery nestled between two larger stores. The warm golden light spilling from its windows seemed to beckon him.
A handwritten poster taped to the door read: "Help Wanted: Looking for enthusiastic workers! Experience preferred but not necessary. Inquire within." Harry smiled to himself. He pushed the door open, and the small bell above jingled, announcing his arrival. The aroma of cinnamon and vanilla filled the air, making his stomach rumble despite his earlier breakfast.
Behind the counter stood an older man with a kind, weathered face and a white apron. Beside him, a cheerful woman in her sixties was arranging pastries in the display case. Both looked up as Harry entered.
"Good morning! Here about the job?" the man asked, wiping his hands on a towel.
Harry nodded. "Yes, I saw the sign outside. I'd like to apply."
The woman smiled warmly. "Wonderful! We could use an extra pair of hands. I'm Margaret, and this is my husband, George. Do you have any experience?"
Harry hesitated but decided honesty was best. "Not formally, but I've cooked and baked a lot on my own. I'm willing to learn."
George chuckled. "We're not running a Michelin-star kitchen here, lad. If you've got the basics, we can teach you the rest. How about a quick test?"
Margaret gestured to the back of the bakery. "Come on, let's see what you can do."
In the cozy kitchen, Margaret handed Harry an apron and pointed him to a small workstation. "Let's see what you can do," she said, her eyes twinkling. "Bake a batch of scones, prepare a sandwich platter, and bake a simple sponge cake. Ingredients are over there," she said, motioning to a shelf laden with jars and spices.
Harry rolled up his sleeves and got to work. He weighed out the flour and butter for the scones with practiced precision, his movements quick and confident. As he kneaded the dough, he discreetly flicked his wand under the counter, casting a silent Frigus to keep the butter from melting too quickly in the warm kitchen. He shaped the scones and slid them into the oven, setting the timer.
Next, he turned his attention to the sandwiches. With a quick Diffindo to ensure perfectly even slices, he layered meats, cheeses, and vegetables in a neat, artistic arrangement. He even used a quick Reparo when he accidentally tore a lettuce leaf, making it look as good as new. By the time the scones were golden and fragrant, the sandwiches were ready to serve.
Finally, he tackled the cake. He gathered the ingredients for a classic Victoria sponge: flour, sugar, eggs, butter, and vanilla extract. As he mixed the batter, he subtly used a Ventus to ensure everything was perfectly combined, creating a light and airy mixture. He poured the batter into a greased and floured tin and placed it in the oven alongside the scones. He used a Tempus to precisely monitor the baking time, ensuring both the scones and the cake were cooked to perfection.
George and Margaret sampled his work. Margaret's eyes lit up as she bit into a scone. "These are delicious! Light and fluffy, just the way I like them." She then took a slice of the cake. Her eyes widened. "And this cake! It's so light and moist! How did you…?"
George nodded approvingly, taking a bite of a sandwich. "And the sandwiches look like something out of a catering catalog. You're hired, Harry. When can you start?"
Harry smiled, a rare moment of genuine pride warming him. "Tomorrow, if that works."
"Perfect," Margaret said. "Welcome to the team."
The next morning, Harry woke up early in his modest home. After a quick shower, he prepared a simple breakfast of eggs and toast, savoring the quiet moments before the day began. He carefully tucked his wand into a specially designed holster beneath his left sleeve, ensuring it was accessible but discreet. With a final check in the mirror, he set out for the bakery.
The little shop was already buzzing with activity when he arrived. Margaret greeted him with a steaming cup of tea. "Morning, Harry! Ready for the breakfast rush?"
Harry grinned. "Always."
As the customers trickled in, Harry moved seamlessly between tasks. He took orders, prepared pastries, and brewed coffee, using small bursts of magic to keep things running smoothly. A quick Calefacio ensured the ovens stayed at the perfect temperature, while a silent Tergeo kept the counters spotless. He made sure to pace himself, never drawing too much attention to his unusual efficiency. He even used a subtle Sonorus charm when the bakery got too loud, not to amplify his own voice, but to subtly dampen the overall noise, creating a more pleasant atmosphere.
By mid-morning, the bakery was packed with regulars and new faces alike. Harry's friendly demeanor and natural ease quickly made him a favorite among the patrons. Between serving customers, he chatted with George about the city and listened to Margaret's stories about the bakery's early days. He learned that the bakery had been in their family for generations, a small, comforting piece of history in this overwhelming city.
During a lull, George leaned against the counter, watching Harry efficiently clean a table. "You know, Harry," he said, a thoughtful look on his face, "you're a natural at this. You pick things up so quickly. It's like you've been doing this for years."
Harry chuckled nervously. "I've always been a quick learner," he replied, avoiding eye contact. He hoped his slight hesitation went unnoticed.
Just then, a news report blared from a small television in the corner of the bakery. The screen showed images of a damaged Humvee and a press conference. "…Tony Stark, CEO of Stark Industries, remains missing after an attack in Afghanistan… The US military confirms that a convoy carrying Mr. Stark was ambushed… Search and rescue operations are ongoing, but so far there has been no sign of the industrialist…"
George shook his head. "Terrible business. Stark's a smart man, shame what happened to him."
Harry paused, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. He had read about Stark Industries during his internet research. They were a major player in this world's technology and weapons manufacturing. He filed the information away, realizing the importance of staying informed about current events. He also noted the general public's reaction; there was a genuine concern for Stark's well-being, suggesting he was a respected figure.
The news report faded into a commercial, and the bakery's usual hum of activity resumed. Harry continued his work, but the news had planted a seed of curiosity. This world was full of unexpected events, and he was beginning to understand that even without Dark Lords and magical battles, there were still significant events shaping its course.
(Time Skip - A Few Weeks Later)
Harry had settled into a comfortable routine at the bakery. He enjoyed the work, the simple interactions with customers, and the sense of normalcy it provided. He continued to explore the city in his free time, learning its layout, its customs, and its rhythms. He had even purchased a few more modern conveniences: a better phone, a small portable music player, and a few sets of clothes that were more in line with current fashion. He was still the Master of Death, but he was also learning to be Harry, the New Yorker.
One afternoon, as he was walking home from the bakery, he passed a large storefront with a wall of televisions displaying various news channels. As he glanced at the screens, one particular broadcast caught his eye. It showed Tony Stark standing at a press conference, his expression serious. He looked different, thinner, and with a more intense look in his eyes than the images Harry had seen before.
"…It's become clear to me that this company has to change. So, effective immediately, I am shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Stark Industries…"
The crowd erupted in a mix of gasps and murmurs. Harry watched, intrigued. This was a significant development. A major weapons manufacturer suddenly ceasing production would undoubtedly have ripple effects throughout this world. It also gave him a clearer picture of Tony Stark: a man capable of making drastic decisions, even if they were controversial. The change in Stark's appearance suggested that he had been through something significant.
Harry continued his walk, his mind buzzing with the information he had absorbed. The news about Stark, combined with his observations of the city, solidified his understanding that this world was complex and dynamic. It was a world of technology, information, and rapid change, a world where even seemingly ordinary events could have far-reaching consequences. He realized that simply blending in wouldn't be enough; he needed to understand the underlying currents that drove this world.
(Time Skip)
Harry had just finished his shift at the bakery and was walking through the bustling streets of Los Angeles, the evening air cool against his skin. His mind was occupied with thoughts of the day's work, but a sudden blast of noise snapped him from his reverie. The ground shook beneath him, and the distant sound of screams echoed down the streets. He turned toward the source, his green eyes narrowing in the growing darkness.
A man stood atop a nearby building, his hands raised as another blast of destructive energy surged from his palms. It was Obadiah Stane, the CEO of Stark Industries. Harry had heard whispers about the man, but this was something entirely different. His face was twisted in a maniacal grin, and he was wreaking havoc on the city with no apparent care for the destruction.
"Pathetic humans," Stane sneered, his voice booming across the chaos. "You thought you could control the future of weaponry, but now it's time for me to take it all."
People were scrambling, running in all directions, but the blasts were too powerful. Harry's instincts kicked in. He couldn't stand by and let this go on.
He reached for his wand, hidden beneath his sleeve, but before he revealed his identity, he grabbed his hood and pulled it low over his face. It was time to conceal who he was—he wasn't here to make a name for himself, just to protect the innocent. The green glow of his magical shield flickered around him as he stepped into action.
A woman screamed as a blast from Stane's hands hurtled toward a group of people standing frozen in shock. Harry acted quickly, raising his hand and casting a shield with a swift flick of his wand. The green magical barrier absorbed the blast, dissipating it harmlessly into the air.
"Run!" Harry shouted to the group, urging them to move to safety.
Stane turned, his eyes narrowing at the mysterious figure. He hadn't seen the shield, nor did he sense any technological interference. "What the hell?" he muttered to himself. "Some kind of magician?" His grin widened. "Let's see what you're made of."
With a furious gesture, Stane launched another barrage of blasts, this time targeting Harry directly. The duel between the two was intense, with Harry dodging and deflecting the incoming energy with swift swirls of his wand, conjuring shields and barriers with a mastery that left Stane momentarily stunned.
"Impressive," Stane grunted, pausing for a moment. "But that won't be enough to stop me."
Harry's expression was calm, his movements fluid. He fired back with a series of offensive spells, his wand movements precise and deadly. He sent a blast of fire toward Stane, but the explosion did little more than scorch the ground beneath him. Stane laughed maniacally, his voice cutting through the chaos.
"You really think that will do anything to me?" Stane taunted. "Stark's arc reactor is the future of weapons. It will be the face of all warfare from now on." He gestured grandly to the chaos around them, a maniacal glint in his eye. "You're playing in a league you can't possibly understand."
Harry narrowed his eyes, his mind spinning. His instincts told him there was more to this—something crucial.
Suddenly, a loud roar filled the air as a sleek figure descended from the sky. It was Iron Man, his suit battered but still gleaming with the power of the arc reactor. But something was off—it looked weakened, the suit flickering as if struggling to stay powered.
"About time you showed up," Harry muttered under his breath. He had expected Iron Man to arrive sooner, but the sight of him only added to the tension in the air. Stane turned toward Iron Man, his expression twisting with disdain.
"You're too late," Stane sneered, his voice dripping with malice. "You've already lost. I'm in control now."
A robotic voice crackled through the suit's speaker. "You think this ends with you?" His words were strained, and Harry could tell the figure wasn't at full strength.
Harry's brow furrowed as he pieced together the implications of this. Stane wasn't just a CEO—he was wielding the stolen technology, and now, he was causing mass destruction in a bid for control.
"Stark's little toy is impressive, but it's nothing compared to the power I have now," Stane said, laughing louder as he gestured toward the chaos he'd wrought. "The face of weaponry has changed forever. This world will bow to me."
The battle wasn't over, and Harry knew he would need to step in again. The fight with Stane was far from finished, but now that he knew the truth about the arc reactor, it was clear this was just the beginning. Harry steadied his stance, prepared for whatever came next, knowing he might be the key to turning the tide before it was too late.
As Harry stood to the side, observing the chaos, his mind remained focused on the people around him. The battle between Stane and the red-armored hero was intense, a rapid exchange of energy blasts and fiery explosions, shaking the streets with every strike. The armored figure, though clearly weakened, still managed to get in a few powerful shots. But Stane was relentless, his stolen arc reactor giving him the upper hand. Each blast from Stane's hands seemed to land with devastating force, while the red suit flickered and stuttered as it struggled to keep up.
"Come on, Tony, give up already," Stane taunted, sending a barrage of energy blasts that the figure barely managed to evade. "You're finished."
The armored figure tried to get to his feet but was hit by another blast, this one knocking him to the ground with a resounding crash.
"I've never really had a taste for this kind of thing, but I must admit I'm deeply enjoying the suit!" Stane boasted, standing tall, his hands crackling with energy. "You finally outdid yourself, Tony. You made your father proud."
Harry's eyes widened.Tony? He had been so caught up in the chaos that he hadn't made the connection until just now. The suit—he knew it. He'd seen it in the news about the suit saving villagers from terrorists in Afghanistan. He knew now that the man in the suit had to be Tony Stark.
Tony, struggling to rise from the wreckage, gritted his teeth. "Not... yet," he muttered, attempting to lift himself, his suit flickering in and out of power.
Stane laughed darkly, his hands glowing brighter with each passing second. "How ironic, Tony! Trying to rid the world of weapons, you gave it its best one ever! And now, I'm going to kill you with it!"
With a roar of triumph, Stane sent a massive blast toward the red-suited figure, hitting him directly. Sparks flew from the suit, and the armored hero collapsed again. Tony gritted his teeth and pushed himself up. Despite the weakening suit, he wasn't finished.
Harry couldn't believe it. Tony Stark—the Tony Stark—was the one inside the suit. His mind quickly shifted into survival mode as he continued to protect the civilians, his magical shields glowing green as they absorbed the blasts. But the realization changed things for him. The stakes were much higher than he had originally thought.
Harry moved swiftly through the streets, ushering bystanders into safe areas and using his magic to shield them from the blasts and debris. He had to keep people out of harm's way, and that was his focus now. As the battle raged on, he noticed people in formal suits positioned on the far side of the street. Several of them had pistols tucked inside their jackets, their presence adding to the tension.
Meanwhile, Tony and Stane were still at it, each unleashing devastating attacks. Stane's laughter echoed through the streets, his voice filled with smug satisfaction.
"You're not going to win this time, Stark," Stane sneered, powering up another blast.
Tony's response was a defiant punch to Stane's chest, sending him stumbling back. "I'm not done yet."
The two continued to clash, but Tony's suit was clearly on its last legs. With every strike, it flickered and sputtered, and Harry could sense the danger growing. He had to make sure no one else got caught in the crossfire. The battle between Stark and Stane might be the headline story for tomorrow, but today, Harry had to keep the city safe.
As the fight raged on, Harry knew one thing for certain: this wasn't just any battle. This was a fight for the future, and the man in the suit was someone Harry never expected to meet today. Tony Stark, he thought, still processing the magnitude of the situation. He had a feeling that this encounter would change everything.
As the battle between Stane and Stark raged on, Harry could see the weariness in Tony's movements. The red armor flickered erratically, struggling to keep up with the force of Stane's relentless attacks. Stark, however, wasn't backing down. He was calculating, trying to find a way to turn the tide of the battle.
Through the chaos, Harry noticed Tony's eyes narrow with sudden realization, as though he had figured something out.
The red suit, still barely standing, barely responded as Tony maneuvered it upward, steadily climbing into the sky, gaining altitude at a rapid pace. Stane, ever the predator, followed closely behind, determined to bring Stark down.
Harry's instincts told him something was about to happen. He couldn't ignore the sense of urgency that grew as Stark soared higher, pushing the limits of his damaged suit. The green magical shield around him shimmered as he braced for whatever would come next.
Sure enough, moments later, Stane's Iron Monger suit was in hot pursuit, chasing the red suit into the sky. The higher Stark climbed, the more unstable his suit became, flickering with each burst of power. Harry watched with bated breath as Stane's suit, now barely able to keep up, struggled to maintain its chase.
Then it happened.
Tony's suit suddenly slowed, seemingly running out of fuel, and Harry caught the moment of realization in his eyes. Tony's theory had been right. He had anticipated that, just like the Mark II, the Iron Monger suit would suffer from the icing problem at high altitudes. Tony had lured Stane into a trap, pulling him up far enough to exceed the suit's limits.
Stane, oblivious to the impending failure, charged forward, a maniacal grin plastered across his face. "You can't escape me, Stark!" he yelled, eyes locked on the retreating red armor.
But Tony was already in motion. As the distance between them grew, Stane's suit began to sputter and stutter, the energy blasts becoming weaker and less frequent. The freezing effects took hold. Stane's face twisted in disbelief as his suit's systems began to fail, and with a deafening roar, Iron Monger spiraled out of control.
The massive suit crashed into the Stark Industries headquarters building, sending debris flying in all directions. The shockwave from the impact rocked the street, and Harry braced himself against the force of the explosion that followed.
For a moment, everything went still.
Stane's Iron Monger was a crumpled mess of metal, smoke rising from the wreckage. The building where it had crashed was now nothing but a shattered shell. Harry could see the fire, the twisted metal, and the blackened remnants of what had once been a symbol of power.
Meanwhile, Tony's suit was rapidly losing power. Harry watched as the red armor's systems blinked off one by one. The suit flickered once more before Tony's voice—faint and strained—came through the suit's comms, but Harry could not hear the words. Tony's face behind the helmet showed a mixture of exhaustion and concentration. The suit was coming apart, and it was clear that Tony's flight capabilities were dwindling fast.
Tony's suit plummeted toward the ground, a trail of sparks and smoke trailing behind it. The height was too great, and the suit couldn't save itself.
Harry's heart raced as he watched the suit fall. He couldn't let Stark crash. With a quick thought, Harry apparated in a flash, reappearing instantly in front of the Stark Industries building, his eyes scanning the sky for Tony's descent.
Just as Tony's suit neared the ground, Harry flicked his wrist. "Wingardium Leviosa!" he whispered urgently. The red suit of armor was lifted into the air by the levitation charm, but it was still heading toward the ground with immense speed. Reacting fast, Harry applied a cushioning charm. A magical aura enveloped the suit, softening its fall and ensuring it didn't crash with deadly force.
The combination of levitation and cushioning magic slowed Tony's descent enough to prevent severe injury. Tony's suit gently touched the ground, landing with a soft thud. Harry quickly rushed over to the now-downed armor, his green shield still shimmering around him. He moved to help Tony, who was still conscious but clearly dazed.
"Not exactly the smoothest landing," Tony said with a groan, his helmet hissing as it opened. His face was pale, and his eyes were sharp, even if they looked a bit clouded. "Thanks for the assist."
Harry gave him a wry smile. "Wouldn't leave you to crash and burn."
But the victory wasn't complete yet. As Harry moved closer to help Tony out of the suit, they both heard a faint groan coming from the wreckage. It was the unmistakable sound of movement.
Stane wasn't done.
From the twisted remains of the Iron Monger, Obadiah Stane emerged, battered but alive. His suit was heavily damaged, but not entirely destroyed. Smoke billowed from the broken parts of the suit, but Stane, covered in cuts and bruises, was still standing.
"Nice try, Stark," Stane spat, wiping blood from his lip as he stood. "But you're going to regret this."
Harry felt his grip tighten on his wand, preparing for whatever Stane would throw at them next. Tony's suit may have been down for the count, but Stane was still a threat.
And Harry wasn't going to let him get away.
Stark, bloodied and battered, struggled to stay on his feet as he faced off against Obadiah Stane, the hulking Iron Monger suit looming before him. The Iron Man suit was almost out of power, the wear and tear evident from the vicious battle that had raged on. Stark was desperate, his mind racing for a solution.
"Pepper, I need you to overload the Arc Reactor," Tony's voice crackled through the comms, exhaustion lacing his tone. "I need a shockwave strong enough to knock out the Iron Monger suit. You've got to do it now!"
On the ground, Pepper Potts hesitated. The task was dangerous, and she feared for Tony's safety. But Tony's voice came through again, strained but firm. "Pepper, I'm running out of options. I need you to do this. Trust me."
As Tony waited for Pepper's response, he focused on Stane. The targeting system on the Iron Monger was locked onto him, but Tony, weakened and running low on power, couldn't make it out. Then, with a sudden flash of inspiration, Tony started launching blasts at the Iron Monger's chest, aiming for the suit's targeting system. Sparks flew as each blast hit its mark, and Stane's targeting system sputtered.
"You ripped out my targeting system. Hold still, you little prick!" Stane yelled, enraged as his suit struggled to adjust. He swung a massive fist, but Tony dodged just in time, using the last of his suit's power to evade the strike.
Meanwhile, Harry, who had been watching the fight from the sidelines, saw an opportunity. He raised his wand, sending out a barrage of energy blasts at the Iron Monger, each one striking with pinpoint accuracy. The blasts were designed to cause as much distraction as possible, giving Tony the breathing room he needed to disable Stane's suit.
Stane howled in frustration as the blasts kept hitting him. "You think this little wizard can stop me?" he sneered, but Harry didn't stop. He sent another barrage of spells at the massive suit, forcing Stane to turn and face him briefly.
"Stand down, Stane," Harry muttered under his breath, his green shield flickering faintly as he concentrated.
On the roof of the building, with the Iron Monger's targeting system damaged, Tony found himself cornered. The Iron Monger's hands closed around him, but Tony managed to break free, using every bit of strength he had left. His helmet was gone, and the exposure to the elements left him more vulnerable than ever. With a quick glance, he saw his opening. He dodged out of the way as Stane took a shot, the targeting system malfunctioning from the damage Tony had inflicted.
"Pepper, now!" Tony shouted, his voice strained but urgent.
Pepper, standing in the control room, hesitated for a heartbeat, her eyes locked on the screens, but there was no time left. Tony's voice broke through her fear. "Pepper, do it now!"
Reluctantly, Pepper hit the master button, causing the Arc Reactor in the building to overload. A powerful shockwave of energy blasted through the building, knocking Iron Monger back and sending Stane into a brief but fatal moment of vulnerability.
Stane's suit staggered, and for a brief moment, it seemed like the battle was over. But the shockwave didn't come without consequences. As the energy from the reactor burst forth, Tony's chest cavity flared with a surge of power. He gasped, feeling a sharp twinge in his arc reactor, which was already malfunctioning. But the blast wasn't aimed just at Stane. The energy from the Arc Reactor's pulse surged through the air, and as it crashed into Iron Monger, a surge of electricity flowed directly toward Tony's chest.
Harry, seeing the massive surge of energy coming toward Stark, acted quickly. He leaped forward, his green magical shield expanding to cover Tony. At the last second, Harry deflected most of the blast with his magic, sending the excess energy ricocheting harmlessly into the walls of the building. But a small fraction of the energy still made its way into Stark's arc reactor, recharging it just enough to keep it functioning.
Stane, meanwhile, had been knocked back by the shockwave, and his Iron Monger suit was now badly damaged. As the energy continued to pulse, the reactor's core erupted with blinding light, and the shockwave slammed into Stane's suit, causing it to overload. The suit's power systems screamed in protest as the energy wave tore through it.
Sensing the opportunity, Tony and Harry powered a combined blast at the same time. Tony's repulsors charged, and Harry, his wand raised, sent a forceful bolt of green energy to join the attack. The two blasts collided in mid-air, sending a concentrated wave of energy straight at Stane. The blast hit the Iron Monger directly in the chest, and Stane's suit was pushed backward with immense force.
Before Stane could react, he was driven straight into the explosion of the Arc Reactor, the blast consuming him and his suit. The building erupted in a violent explosion as the Arc Reactor reached its peak. The shockwave of the blast sent debris flying in every direction, shaking the entire city.
For a brief moment, everything went silent.
Harry stumbled slightly, the effects of the blast still rippling through his body, but he maintained his footing. As the dust settled, Harry moved toward Tony, who had collapsed beside his suit, the Arc Reactor still glowing faintly in his chest. He was alive—barely—but his suit had taken a beating.
Tony gasped for air, his eyes wide as he tried to sit up, but he winced, clearly in pain. Harry knelt beside him, offering a hand to help him up.
"That was close," Stark said with a dry chuckle, clearly shaken but still trying to joke. "I owe you one, mate."
Harry gave him a wry smile. "Just doing my part, Stark."
Harry knelt beside Tony, his wand in hand, inspecting the injuries Stark had sustained. Blood seeped from a gash on his forehead, and bruises were already forming along his ribs. Tony groaned as he shifted, clearly in pain but alive.
"Stay still," Harry muttered. His tone was firm but not unkind. With a precise flick of his wand, he muttered, "Episkey." A faint glow surrounded Stark's wounds as the magic worked to close the deeper cuts and ease the pain. Harry followed it with a soft "Ferula" to conjure a temporary brace for what he suspected was a cracked rib.
Tony raised an eyebrow, watching Harry with mild disbelief. "Alright, Wizard... that's two saves in one night. You sure you're not here to audition for some superhero team?"
Harry ignored the comment, focusing instead on repairing the bruising on Tony's face. "You're lucky," Harry said, his voice calm but distant. "The reactor saved your life... barely."
Tony chuckled weakly, though the pain was still evident. "Barely seems to be my style. But seriously... those blasts you fired earlier—what were those? Repulsor tech? Plasma? Some kind of experimental energy weapon?"
Harry froze for a moment, then resumed his work as if he hadn't heard the question. Tony wasn't deterred. "Come on, you can't just ignore that! I mean, you don't exactly look like the 'weapons engineer' type, and last I checked, energy blasts don't come from a stick."
Harry finished healing Tony's bruises, stood up, and took a step back, his expression unreadable beneath the hood. "What you saw... doesn't concern you," he said quietly.
Tony scoffed, sitting up despite the pain. "Doesn't concern me? You fired glowing blasts out of thin air! I'm a little concerned, wizard guy."
Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair under the hood. "Stark, you've got enough on your plate without worrying about me. Focus on surviving your next board meeting."
Before Tony could respond, Pepper Potts appeared, rushing toward them. Her face was pale, panic written across her features. "Tony!" she called out, her voice trembling as she ran to his side.
"I'm okay," Tony reassured her, his tone softening as he saw her. "Just... had a bit of a rough night."
Pepper knelt beside him, her hands hovering as if unsure whether to touch him or not. She glanced at Harry, her eyes filled with both gratitude and confusion. "Thank you. I don't know how you—"
Harry cut her off with a slight shake of his head. "Take care of him," he said simply, his tone final. He turned, his cloak billowing slightly as he began walking away.
"Wait!" Tony called out, struggling to sit up. "You can't just— You've got to tell me something! What's the tech behind those blasts? Is it alien? A new Stark-level invention? Come on, give me something!"
Harry paused for a moment, his back still to them. Then, without turning around, he replied, "Some things, Stark, are beyond science."
With a quiet crack, Harry Disapparated, leaving behind nothing but a faint rush of air and the lingering tension of unanswered questions.
Tony stared at the empty space where Harry had stood, his mind racing. "Beyond science," he repeated, shaking his head. "Yeah, sure. Like magic's real."
Pepper gave him a stern look. "You almost died, and you're already making jokes?"
"Hey," Tony said with a smirk, "you should thank our mysterious wizard friend for that. If he hadn't been here..." His voice trailed off as he glanced at the ruins of the building and the faint glow of the destroyed Arc Reactor. "Guess I've got a lot to think about."
Pepper helped Tony to his feet, her mind equally filled with unanswered questions. As they made their way toward safety, she couldn't help but glance back, wondering about the man who had saved Tony's life and disappeared just as suddenly as he had arrived.
The soft glow of moonlight streamed through the curtains as Harry apparated into his modest home. The air was still, the quiet only broken by the faint rustle of leaves outside. Emerald, his green-scaled companion, was coiled comfortably near the fireplace, lifting her head to acknowledge his arrival.
"Long day, Emerald," Harry murmured, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He sank into a chair, letting out a long sigh. His mind raced with images of the battle—the blasts of magic and metal, the screams of civilians, and the cold, calculating menace of Obadiah Stane.
He shook his head and rose, making his way to the bathroom. A hot bath was exactly what he needed. The warmth of the water wrapped around him like a cocoon as he leaned back, closing his eyes. But peace eluded him.
Grindelwald's voice echoed in his memory, the old wizard's words heavy with a wisdom forged in fire and blood.
"A battle is not just a clash of strength or will, but a game of wit and resolve. To win is not always to overpower; it is to outlast, to outthink, and to seize the moment your foe underestimates you."
Harry's lips curled into a faint, sardonic smile. The Duel of Los Angeles had been a stark reminder of that truth. Stane's overconfidence, his belief in the invincibility of his suit, had blinded him to his vulnerabilities. And yet, Harry couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease.
"But at what cost?" Grindelwald's voice had continued in his memory. "Even the cleverest victory leaves scars—on the land, on the people, and within yourself."
Harry opened his eyes, staring at the faint ripples in the water. He thought of the civilians he'd shielded, the fear in their eyes as chaos erupted around them. He thought of Tony Stark—bold, reckless, brilliant—and the weight of the burden Stark now carried.
Was this what it meant to be a part of their world? To fight battles that left you questioning everything long after the dust had settled?
Harry exhaled slowly, letting the steam cloud his thoughts. There was no room for doubt, no place for hesitation. He had done what needed to be done. Yet, Grindelwald's wisdom lingered, a quiet reminder of the cost of power and the weight of responsibility.
As the water cooled, Harry stepped out, drying himself with a flick of his wand. He cast a quick look at the mirror, his hooded reflection staring back. For a moment, he thought of the hooded figure in the news clips—the one the world was now so eager to unmask.
With a soft scoff, Harry turned away, pulling on a fresh set of clothes. "Let them search," he muttered under his breath, his voice low. "They won't find me."
Emerald watched him from her perch as he returned to the main room, her serpentine eyes glowing faintly in the firelight.
"Perhaps Grindelwald was right," Harry said softly, more to himself than to her. "The scars aren't just on the outside."
The fire crackled in quiet agreement as Harry sank into his armchair, his mind still a whirlwind of thoughts. The night stretched on, but sleep did not come easily.
(Time Skip)
The aroma of freshly baked bread and pastries filled the cozy bakery as Harry worked behind the counter, kneading dough with practiced ease. It was a quiet morning, and a few regular customers sat by the windows, sipping coffee and chatting softly. The small television mounted in the corner of the shop flickered to life, airing a live press conference.
Harry wiped his hands on his apron and glanced at the screen as he shaped another batch of rolls. His brow furrowed when he recognized Tony Stark standing confidently at a podium, flanked by reporters and cameras. Stark looked as smug as ever, despite the bandages visible on his cheek and a faint stiffness in his movements.
A reporter's voice echoed from the TV. "Mr. Stark, you've denied being the superhero known as Iron Man, but witnesses claim otherwise. Care to comment?"
Harry paused, his hands stilling as Stark smirked, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. Stark hesitated for a moment, then leaned into the microphone and declared, "The truth is... I am Iron Man."
Harry blinked, the words registering in his mind. Slowly, his hand rose to his face, and he groaned quietly. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered under his breath, dragging his palm down his face in exasperation. A couple of nearby customers glanced at him curiously, but Harry quickly turned his attention back to the dough, pretending to focus on his work.
The bakery erupted in gasps and murmurs as customers turned their attention to the television. Harry, however, shook his head and muttered, "Subtlety clearly isn't in his vocabulary." Despite his frustration, he couldn't help but smirk faintly at Stark's sheer audacity.
But the press conference wasn't the only thing grabbing attention. As the scene shifted, the news channel cut to footage from the aftermath of the Duel of Los Angeles. Grainy clips showed a hooded figure, surrounded by swirling green lights, fending off explosions and shielding civilians. Harry's heart sank as he realized they were talking about him.
The news anchor's voice filled the bakery. "Authorities are still searching for the mysterious individual who intervened during the attack involving Stark Industries' CEO, Tony Stark, and the Iron Monger. Witnesses describe him as a hooded man wielding strange powers, who not only protected civilians but also aided Stark during the battle. The public is now speculating about his identity and whether he poses a potential threat or is an unknown ally."
The screen cut to interviews with bystanders who had been at the scene. One woman said, "He saved my daughter and me when that giant metal thing fired at us. I don't know who he is, but we owe him our lives."
Another man added, "Whoever he was, he wasn't human. The way he fought, it wasn't normal. He's dangerous."
Harry scowled, turning back to his work as the customers buzzed with curiosity about the "mysterious hero." A young man sitting at the counter nudged his friend and said, "You think it's some kinda government experiment? Maybe another superhero in disguise?"
Harry kept his face neutral, though he could feel the tension in his shoulders. He didn't need this kind of attention. The last thing he wanted was for people to start asking questions he wasn't ready to answer.
George with a warm smile, walked in from the back and glanced at the TV. "What's the world coming to, huh?" he said, shaking his head. "First Iron Man, now this hooded guy. Feels like something out of a comic book."
Harry gave a noncommittal hum and focused on shaping the last roll. As the news channel switched to another story, he breathed a quiet sigh of relief, though he knew this wasn't the end of it. The world might have been captivated by Tony Stark's dramatic revelation, but Harry had no intention of sharing the spotlight.
Harry shook his head again, the weight of the situation lingering in his mind. He wasn't in this world for recognition or fame. If anything, he longed for simplicity, for quiet moments in a bakery or hidden from the world. But the universe seemed intent on throwing him into the spotlight, and he couldn't always control that.
Rowena's voice echoed in his thoughts: "Knowledge is power, Harry. But remember, the true power lies in knowing when to hide it."
Salazar's words followed, sharp and unyielding: "Power without purpose is nothing more than a burden. Use it wisely, or it will consume you."
He took a deep breath, turning away from the screen. No matter what the world thought or how many people chased after him, Harry knew one thing for sure: he was only here for the things that mattered. Helping those who needed it. Staying true to himself, and never letting anyone turn him into something he wasn't.
AN : Hey everyone! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. We got a bit of Harry's life before everything kicks into high gear with Tony Stark and Stane. There's some bakery magic (literally) and a peek into Harry finding his way in this world. Things are starting to heat up, but I promise, there's much more to come. This was the first battle scene I wrote, and it was quite a task, but I'm happy with how it turned out. Thanks for reading! Drop a comment if you're enjoying the journey so far.