1,444In Harry Potts' ten years with his Aunt Pepper she had never been the best caregiver in the universe. She was apologetic about it, and tried her best, but admitted that from about the time he was five he was the more self-sufficient of her two charges. Tony Stark just required more of her attention, basically all the time.
Raising Harry had, thus, taken a village, or at least a Fortune 500 technology company. After a few years toddling around the Stark Industries offices, he'd begun to spend the days in school, but still wound up doing his homework there while waiting for his aunt to finally finish up work and go home to 5730 Encino Avenue. Since the job of a billionaire's personal assistant didn't really allow for weekends, it was just as common for him to have the run of Tony's high-tech cliffside Malibu mansion. He even had his own code to get into the private areas of the house.
He was not supposed to be there for Tony's birthday party. The yearly extravaganzas tended to be extremely debaucherous for a very-close-to-11-year-old. Pepper had really excellent intentions of taking Harry straight home after school that Thursday. Then she had very good intentions of just stopping by the mansion to check a few things on the way, then dropping him after. Then she had slightly laudable intentions of asking Happy to do it after he drove Tony from work to the party. Then she got completely engrossed in organizing the catering and the DJ and forgot completely.
It was fine. Harry was used to it. And Tony's personal living room off his bedroom and out of the way of the rest of the party had a truly impressive video game setup and a friend-of-the-creators months-early beta release of Gears of War 2.
Harry Potts was never going to be a super genius like Tony. Even after the man took an interest in the boy and got him into a fancy private school that would be more willing to work around Pepper's schedule, Harry stayed merely accelerated rather than gifted. He steadfastly failed to be a savant in any scientific discipline. But what he had was reflexes that nobody at the company could believe. He was pretty good at sports (not that a building full of technology nerds with time management issues had encouraged him to go out for that), but for any video game anyone put in front of him, he would quickly become the office champion.
Pepper had eventually put her foot down about Tony and his business partner planning to Ender's Game Harry to fly their prototype remote military drones while thinking he was just playing a flight simulator. Tony's best friend, James "Rhodey" Rhodes, an Air Force colonel who was the only one who could come close to beating Harry at a video game, quietly expected to sign the boy up for his branch of the service the very moment he was eligible.
When the weird thing with the snake happened, Rhodey was enjoying a co-op campaign of Gears with Harry, having quickly exhausted his own interest in the debauchery. Pilfered snacks were strewn across the coffee table and the thumping beat of the party downstairs was barely audible over the TV's sound system.
"Guys on your left," Harry warned, taking out a few enemies from cover.
"Couldn't miss them," Rhodey agreed, moving between chest-high-walls and lining up his shot. "Guess they haven't added real textures for these guys yet."
"I thought they were just supposed to be white? Like, for snow camouflage," Harry frowned.
Rhodey chuckled, "Do we need to get your glasses prescription checked again?"
"Maybe," the boy admitted. "How long until I can get laser surgery?"
"When you're 18. Same as when you can go to the Air Force academy," Rhodey explained, for the fifth time that year. "And it still doesn't mean actually being able to shoot lasers out of your eyes."
Harry grinned, "Maybe by the time I'm 18, Tony will have figured out how to give me laser eyes."
"That's… actually a really good point," the colonel acknowledged with a smirk, momentarily distracted from the game. "I could probably sell my bosses on funding that."
With a surge of music, the door into the suite opened and the master of the house, Tony Stark, drunkenly half-staggered into the room, his arm across the shoulders of a dark-haired young woman in a very tight green party dress. The handsome young genius' expensive tuxedo was rumpled, tie undone. His goatee was, as always, immaculately sculpted.
"And that's my entertainment center, my best friend, and… my assistant's nephew. Who is definitely not supposed to be here tonight," Tony yelled, his inside voice drowned in alcohol and excessive party volume. "I will have to talk to– dear God, what is crawling on me? Is that your arm?"
"It's my snake," simpered the young woman, retrieving the large Brazilian boa constrictor from where it'd started to twine around Tony's leg on the way to the ground.
"Right. I thought that was a scarf. Did seem a weird choice for the season," he said, giving Rhodey and Harry an exaggerated 'can you believe this?' look. "Do you need the snake? Is it for bedroom games? Then why don't we let the two of them," he gingerly grabbed the snake with both hands, stumbled over, and laid it across the back of the couch, "babysit it for a while?"
The girl looked a little worried, making sure to shut the door to keep it in the suite and reducing, once again, the party noise. "Is it alright?" she asked.
"They're fine! You're fine, right? Is that the new Gears of War? I need to find time for that. We're fine! To the bedroom!" Tony explained, staccato, grabbing the girl's hand and leading her through the other door, and closing it behind them.
"The things that happen at these parties," Rhodey just shook his head at his best friend's antics. "Do you think that thing is housebroken?"
"You alright in here?" Harry asked the snake, bemused and playing along.
"It'sss okay, I'm usssed to being her prop," the snake answered, to the boy's surprise. "It's lesss dissstracting in here at leasst. Can I warm myssself on you?"
"Sure… thing. Just be careful. You're almost as big as I am," the boy offered, too polite to object.
"Thanksss, amigo," the boa said, slithering down and coiling up between Harry and the end of the couch.
Rhodey, for his part, did not speak snake, and squinted his eyes at the boy hissing like he was having a conversation with it. "You know that's not right, right?" he chuckled, then looked back at the screen and unpaused the game.
'What's not right?' Harry wondered, absently, before, himself, getting engrossed.
A couple of hours later, Pepper finally got ahead of the stage managing she'd been doing all night and remembered that Harry had never gone home. She found him napping on Tony's couch, snuggled up with a boa constrictor, a way-too-violent video game paused on the TV, and very inappropriate sounds coming from Tony's bedroom (now audible with the video game silent and the party winding down). Rhodey had at least found a blanket for the boy before wandering off. She wanted to be mad at Tony and Rhodey, but couldn't be.
While Pepper Potts was spending the next couple of months overcompensating for forgetting about Harry at the party, someone else was making plans.
Rhodey had been embellishing the story of Tony's liaison to anyone who'd listen and laugh, and he'd finish off with, "And there's poor Harry, hissing at the snake to make sure it would be cool hanging out with us playing video games, completely unaware of what's going on in the other room."
At one of these retellings was Obadiah "Obie" Stane, Tony's business partner and Chief Operating Officer for the company. The large older man made up for the lack of hair on his head with a full bristling gray beard. Of all the Stark Industries employees who'd happily made Harry the company mascot, unworried about having the tyke underfoot, Obie had initially been the one to complain about how they were a weapons manufacturer, not a daycare. However, the objections had gradually dropped over the years. Everyone else assumed their sometimes-prickly COO was finally warming to Harry. What had actually happened was that he'd noticed the strangeness that followed the boy.
In times of stress, weird things happened around young Harry Potts. TVs turned themselves on when he was told he couldn't watch. Lights burned out when he was angry. Sometimes he got into rooms he'd been deliberately kept out of, the door still locked. And now he was talking to snakes.
The rest of the highly-rational scientific minds of Stark Industries would never make the connection in their heads between the boy and the occurrences. It wouldn't be logical to assume they were anything but scientific (probably bugs in the over-designed "smart" technology systems that ran the office). Obie, who'd been privy to much of what Tony's father had gotten up to, was more willing to believe. He'd run an even deeper background check on the Potts family than Edwin Jarvis had over a decade previously, and noted the interesting inconsistencies (but also that Pepper, herself, didn't similarly serve as a source of the inexplicable). No, there was something supernatural about Harry Potts, and it could be a huge advantage for Obadiah Stane.
Since Pepper had revealed at the last management meeting that Harry was going to his parents' boarding school in the fall and would no longer be something they needed to schedule around during the school year, Obie had a bit of a ticking clock if he wanted to do anything about it anytime soon.
Back at 5730 Encino Avenue in late July, the Potts family was making plans of their own, for that particular school experience.
"Your Hogwarts letter's here," Pepper called to her nephew on Saturday morning the weekend before his eleventh birthday, letting the large barn owl in through the kitchen window.
"Neat!" Harry said, racing into the kitchen. "How'd they get an owl to deliver mail?"
"They're Frigga's favorite bird," Pepper explained, putting out a cup of water for the owl and gesturing for Harry to take the letter attached to its leg. "So they can be enchanted to be smarter and to travel between realms." While Pepper hadn't concealed anything about the magical world from Harry, she hadn't made time to thoroughly educate him either, mostly explaining things as he had questions or she remembered a fun story about his father. A particular gap in his knowledge was anything she completely took for granted, like the post.
"That's cool," Harry admitted, carefully untying the cord securing the letter to the owl but wary of its beak and talons. "Seems like email would be easier, though."
"You figure that out without telling Tony and you may be even more famous on Vanaheim than you already are," Pepper smiled.
"He's going to figure it out eventually, Aunt Pepper," Harry insisted, fully aware of how smart Tony was, and continuing to ignore her warnings about how famous he was for not dying as a baby. Of all the things he could accept about her stories about their homeworld, that he was a celebrity there was the one that was hardest to swallow.
"You'd be surprised what that man can ignore," she shrugged. "But most people find it easy not to believe in magic, and Earth's wizards like to keep it that way."
Showing off the small envelope made of fine parchment, Harry noticed that it was addressed to: Mr. H. Potter, The South Bedroom, 5730 Encino Avenue, Los Angeles, California, Midgard. He asked, "Am I going to have to go by 'Potter' at school? Sounds weird."
"You'll get used to it," she ruffled his messy black hair, briefly revealing the scar on his forehead that still refused to fully heal up. Turning to the owl, she asked, "Can you stay for a response?"
The owl nodded like it understood, so they proceeded to look through the invitation letter and materials list. "Where am I going to get most of this stuff?" he asked, marveling at requirements for robes, potions ingredients, and a magic wand.
"We can get more than you expect locally. But, you're right, we should ask if they can send some help for the things we can't get in Santa Monica. I'll start writing that letter. You fill out your acceptance."
The two took care of it, tying the return post to the owl and sending it on its way. The private investigator that Stane had hired to watch the house noted this and followed discretely as they hit the various new age shops around town for the rest of the day, relaying all of this to his employer.
That Thursday, Harry's birthday, Obie made his move. Loading Pepper down with work that would hopefully take her all day and coaching his own assistant with excuses about someone taking Harry for lunch if his aunt asked, the large, calculating man wandered down to the Stark Industries game room (of course Stark Industries had a game room) where Harry had spent most of his summer already. Waiting for the boy to hit a point he could pause, Obie casually suggested, "Hey, Champ, you ready for your birthday celebration?" Harry raised a quizzical brow, having heard of no such thing. "Wouldn't have been a surprise if you knew about it early, would it?"
The boy shrugged, saved his game, and grabbed his bag. "Where's Aunt Pepper?"
"You know Tony," the big man sighed theatrically. "She'll meet us once she's got him handled."
Since that was a normal weekday for Harry, and even though Obadiah Stane had never really had that much of a conversation with him, it wasn't exactly the stranger danger he'd been warned about. So the two of them wandered out of the office (express elevator down to the parking deck) and were soon squeezed into Obie's trendy red Prius. The unrepentant arms manufacturer loved to signal his social consciousness.
"Plane or speedboat?" he asked the boy as they were heading west on the 10.
Beginning to wonder where the hell they were going, Harry was, nonetheless, distracted by being allowed such an exciting choice. "Plane!"
Nodding, Obie turned the car into a private Stark Industries tarmac off the LA airport, and pulled up to a small hanger where he had a prototype Cirrus Vision SF50 fueled up and ready to go (Tony wasn't the only one happy to pull strings to get new toys months earlier than the public). "Go get set up as the co-pilot."
Once again he stayed just ahead of the boy's suspicion by giving him such a big privilege, and they were airborne without Harry once questioning why it was just the two of them flying the small private jet. Less than half an hour in flight over the Pacific and they were descending toward an airstrip on a barren island. "Where are we?" Harry finally asked.
"San Nicholas," Obie allowed before radioing down to the naval base that they were landing. It had taken a few strings pulled to make sure people who owed him were on the tower that day, so the logs would be buried. And hopefully any traces he left wouldn't be obvious to US Air Force Colonel James Rhodes, due to the famous rivalries between branches of the military. "Don't worry, it's way cooler than it looks from the air."
It was only after they taxied the jet into a small hangar that Harry started to really note that things were off. "We're having a party on a navy base?" he asked.
"We have a weapons contract with the navy," Obie insisted. "This is where we keep the best toys. Come see." He gestured to a door next to the hangar, which seemed to lead into an underground bunker. "It's got the biggest ladder you've probably ever seen."
One thing you had to say for Obadiah Stane was that he was persuasive, even if his motives were suspect. After all, he'd managed to get two generations of Starks to rely on him. He opened the door and started climbing down the ladder like he had no expectation that the boy wouldn't follow. The part of Harry's brain that was starting to wonder if this was a kidnapping couldn't believe Obie would just leave him alone and start climbing down, because Harry could now easily run off and find a soldier. Completely confused by the mixed signals, and never really betrayed by anyone in authority, he went ahead and started climbing down.
It was a very long ladder.
The bunker at the bottom actually looked promising. Lots of machines with intriguingly blinking lights filled the space previously dedicated to surviving a nuclear explosion. Obie had even thought to hang up a 'Happy Birthday, Harry!' banner and set out some party hats and napkins. Getting all of that technology lowered into the space had been an undertaking all its own, but he'd been planning this kind of testing suite for quite some time. The first pieces had been put in place when he'd started hearing rumors of a woman who'd fallen from the sky into an LA Blockbuster video store a couple of years before Harry showed up. He'd actually been disappointed that there hadn't been any other anomalies for the company to investigate and weaponize since.
"Why don't you check out the flight simulator? I'll call and see how far behind everyone else is."
The genuine navy pilot training simulator rig was always going to be a big hit with an 11-year-old, so Harry was quickly engrossed. He didn't notice as Obie donned a couple of blue-glowing earplugs and flipped a switch. The sonic paralysis device Tony had cooked up a few years prior had short enough range and duration that the military hadn't decided to fund further development, but Obie's off-books team was still working on it and had found that similar frequencies were good at making people focus and lose track of time. He was thinking about licensing the tech to Las Vegas casinos. After that point, turning on the various energy monitors in the room and surreptitiously sticking electrode patches to Harry's temples without notice was simple.
Hours later, even Harry's electronically-induced focus was shattered by a cataclysmic BOOM from the door above. "What's going on?" Harry asked, suddenly realizing how hungry he was and that there was something stuck to his head.
BOOM. The knock came again. Obie stopped trying to make sense of the numbers on the screens in front of him (that he honestly hoped his team would have more luck interpreting) and opened a small gun safe, withdrawing a large semi-automatic pistol.
There was a pause, then SMASH! The door that should have held off an indirect nuclear strike ripped open, and fell to the bottom of the shaft with a deafening CLANG in the enclosed bunker. By the time either of them had recovered, another figure had slid down the ladder and was looming across the small room, bent slightly to fit. His eyes glimmered like black beetles from beneath his tangled mass of dark hair and beard.
"Ah, here's Harry!" said the giant.
Obie leveled the pistol at the enormous man, who didn't seem that concerned. Instead, he was taking in the half-hearted attempt at pretending this was a birthday party.
"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," he said as if he was not having a gun aimed at him by the second-largest man in the room. "Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mum's eyes."
"This is a secure facility," Obie explained, not sure why he wasn't more intimidating and wondering if the scanners in the room were getting this.
"Ah, shut up yeh great prune," said the giant. "This ain't Harry's birthday party. Weren't nobody invited nor knew he were here." He started to reach for the gun.
Realizing the jig was up, Obie started firing, nearly deafening himself in the enclosed bunker even through his high-tech earplugs as Harry hunched down and covered his ears. The relatively-large-caliber rounds flattened against their target with only a mild grunt of pain. Turning his reach for the gun into a swat, the giant backhanded Obie into the wall, where he collapsed insensate to the ground.
"Well this ain't too good," he opined, taking in the confusing array of lights. He called up the shaft, "Wong! Yah best get down here. It's gonna be a sticky one!"
Realizing the gunfire had stopped, Harry looked over and asked, "Who are you?"
The giant chucked. "True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Grounds at–" he glanced at Stane, unable to be sure he was completely unconscious, and showing a rare moment of common sense said, "yer new school. Everyone calls me Hagrid."
"Did you come to take me shopping?"
"Got it in one!" beamed Hagrid. "O' course, nobody could find yeh when I showed up, so your aunt got real scared and sent me lookin'. Good thin' I know a few folks." He nodded to the burly, shaven-headed Asian man descending the ladder behind him. "This is Master Wong."
Looking around, Wong frowned and sighed. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Hagrid. You wouldn't believe how many setups like this we have to deal with these days."
"He'll forget about this?" Hagrid stage whispered to his companion.
Wong nodded. "And this room will be cleaned. Can I see you two home?"
"That'd be great! Thanks! I'm sure his aunt is worried," boomed the keeper of the keys. "If yeh'll step over here, Harry, we should be gettin' back and get yeh some lunch and shoppin' done."
Still completely baffled by the whole situation, but feeling like the big man was distantly familiar and somehow safe, Harry nodded. "Wait a second, though," he remembered, and snapped a picture of the flight simulator screen with his phone's camera. "If I can figure out how to tell Rhodey about my high score on a real military simulator, he'll go nuts."
The other two men shared a confused look, but then Wong moved his arm in a circle, spinning a widening wheel of sparks and slicing open a portal between the room and the fenced-in backyard of 5730 Encino Avenue.
"Magic is so cool," Harry grinned, stepping through, Hagrid squeezing behind him.