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Chapter Text

(Excerpt from Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire, Chapter Seventeen)

Ron was lying on his bed in the otherwise empty dormitory, still fully dressed. He looked up when Harry slammed the door behind him.

 

“Where’ve you been?” Harry said. 

 

“Oh hello,” said Ron. 

 

He was grinning, but it was a very odd, strained sort of grin. 

 

Harry suddenly became aware that he was still wearing the scarlet Gryffindor banner that Lee had tied around him. He hastened to take it off, but it was knotted very tightly. Ron lay on the bed without moving, watching Harry struggle to remove it. 

 

“So,” he said, when Harry had finally removed the banner and thrown it into a corner.  

“You never get a break, do you?”

“What d’you mean?” said Harry, staring at Ron. There was definitely something wrong with the way Ron was smiling: It was more like a grimace.

“Well… I was kind of hoping we’d have a bit of a more relaxed year,” said Ron. “With the troll, Quirrell, the petrifications, the basilisk, Pettigrew, and your godfather…”

Ron sighed, faux forlornly. “I suppose yearly thrills and scares are a certified given. Now, who’d you reckon put you in?”

For a moment, Harry is stunned. 

“You... you actually believe me,” said Harry slowly. 

Ron raised his eyebrows. 

“Mate, I’ve known you since first year. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I dunno,” said Harry. “Rest of Gryffindor seems to think otherwise and they’ve known me since first year too.”

“But they’re not your best mate, now are they?” Ron smiled, genuinely this time. “C’mon, have a little more faith in me. We’ve already gone through, like, a lifetime’s worth of trauma together!”

Harry gave a small smile back, eventually chuckling, and felt a weight pushed off his chest knowing that one of the few people he cares about is on his side. It’s silly that he ever doubted Ron. 

“Let’s get some sleep, Harry. It’ll be hell to deal with tomorrow without some proper rest.”

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“Harry, mate, wake up.”

Harry groaned and rolled over to the bleary sight of Ron. He put on his glasses and, blinking rapidly, saw that the sun had barely risen.

“Wha’ time issit?” 

“Really early,” said Ron sheepishly. “We thought you’d want to avoid the majority of the crowd for breakfast.”

That – is a very good idea.

Harry is up and ready to come down in record speed. They tiptoed down the spiral staircase and into the common room where Hermione was impatiently standing. 

“Come on, hurry up, there are students who get down to the Great Hall at this hour too!” She whispered, pulling them through the portrait hole. 

“Wait, ‘Mione, you believe me too?” asked Harry as they quietly rushed around the castle. 

“Of course, I do. The look on your face –”

“Let’s talk about it more after we get some food, yeah?” Ron interrupted. 

“Right,” said Harry. He had a dazed look in his eyes that had Ron and Hermione sharing a brief concerned glance. 

“Right,” Hermione said reluctantly. “I don’t think we should eat there, lest we choke on our food in our haste.”

“Picnic?” asked Ron excitedly. “Let’s do it!”

As if sensing that they were in a rush and on the go, a large picnic basket and a folded blanket appeared at the end of the Gryffindor table upon their arrival. Surprised, but not questioning it to waste time, the trio grabbed them and took off again. Not even glancing at the few people in the Great Hall that looked on curiously. 

In no time, they had found a reasonable spot by the Black Lake to set up their breakfast. Ron was especially enthusiastic in arranging everything to what he deemed was ‘peak picnic-ky-ness’. They were halfway through their assortment of sandwiches, pastries, and fruits when Ron also deemed that it was time to continue talking. 

“To pick up where we left off, the look on your face when your name was announced was all the proof I needed that you hadn’t entered yourself,” said Hermione in one breath. 

“Did I look that terrified?” asked Harry, prompting Ron to wince.

“You looked like someone just told you when and how you’d die.”

“Isn’t too far from what the tournament is, is it?” 

Ron nodded solemnly. Hermione huffed.

“The more important question is; who did it ? Who put your name in?”

“Someone who wants to kill me, I reckon,” said Harry drily. “Not the most surprising thing in the world. I do seem to have a whole bunch of people who want a go at it.”

“Harry,” Hermione said despairingly. “Could you… please tell us what happened after you left the table?” 

After Harry had finished explaining, his two friends remained silent. Feeling a bit awkward, Harry munched on a few apple slices as Ron and Hermione pondered over what he revealed. 

“No student could have fooled the Goblet, nor Dumbledore’s age line, which means –”

“It’s You-Know-Who.”

“...I think that’s a bit far-fetched, Ron,” said Hermione.

“Is it?” retorted Ron. “Every year, the chaos is always connected to him. Maybe the tournament’s our customary Be-Tormented-By-The-Dark-Lord?”

“He’s got a point, Hermione,” agreed Harry. 

“But – but how?” Hermione sputtered. “ Why ? If it’s a tournament that can get Harry seriously injured or, worse, killed, then why have him entered?”

“I dunno, weaken him for their eventual showdown?”

Ron raised his hands at Harry and Hermione’s matching incredulous looks. “Oi, I’m no dark lord. I’ve no idea how they think.”

“It does make some sense,” Hermione relented. “Whenever something unexplainable but geared to badly hurt Harry has always been traced back to You-Know-Who. Which means –”

“There’s no way out and I’m going to have to compete,” Harry sighed. “Fantastic.”

Harry can see it now. Gryffindor amassing expectations on his shoulders, Hufflepuffs loathing him for stealing Diggory’s spotlight, and the rest of Hogwarts and the visiting schools ridiculing him. What a year it’s going to be. Oh, and the tournament that can potentially kill him. What’s new?

“Which means that we’re going to be on your side no matter what,” corrected Ron. “We’re going to figure a way out of this, mate. And if not, then I guess we’ll help you at least keep all your limbs by the time summer comes.”

Hermione stopped nodding along and shot Ron a look. “Why settle for just keeping his limbs?”

“It’s a joke. Merlin knows Harry needs to loosen up a bit –”

More weight is pushed off his chest. Harry grinned. He looked back and forth between his two best friends (and their incessant bickering) who have and will continue to stick by him through the craziest of schemes and life-threatening situations. 

A mismatched trio against the rest of the Wizarding World.

What’s new?

Chapter Text

The rest of the day was spent in a secluded corner of the library. Hermione had somehow gotten her hands on every book that so much as mentioned the Tri-Wizard Tournament and they ended up with piles and piles of them. The trio made quick work of perusing the table of contents and flipping to the necessary pages. There was no clear deadline, but there was an urgency to have a way out as soon as possible. 

Ron snuck sandwiches past Madam Pince for lunch. Hermione’s lack of protest at the blatant rule-breaking was proof of her focus. Harry barely ate. They only exited the library to pick up another picnic basket for dinner and ascended to the Astronomy Tower with four borrowed books each.

“A lot of the books aren’t even centered on the tournament. They just happen to mention them,” Hermione concluded after each of them recounted what they’ve read. “Oh, I wish we can get our hands on the rulebook itself but there’s no copy of it in the library!”

Harry glanced at their pile of twelve books and thought about the rest that they left behind in their little corner. Was it worth it to go through each one for any hint or mention of a rule they could use? Maybe they should just give this up and focus on finding a way to survive the first task. 

Noticing Harry’s shoulders deflating, Hermione quickly added, “But we’ll keep searching, of course.”

“Course we will,” said Ron, bumping his shoulder against Harry. “We still have some time and a lot more books.”

Harry had a sinking feeling that none of it would help at all. 

They could no longer ignore the student population the next day. Ron became Harry’s permanent bodyguard and never left his side, deflecting jinxes and overriding insults with his own assurances. It was a personal challenge for Ron not to explode on the other students. 

Hermione took charge of taking notes for all of them in classes they happened to share. She went as far as asking for copies from anyone in the ones that she didn’t, citing curiosity as a reason. 

It didn’t get better by the third day and the fourth. By the fifth day, Harry was conscious only because of Ron’s strictly enforced naps. Ron persevered through sheer determination and the fear that someone would get to Harry if he dawdled. Hermione fared a bit better, being used to hunting knowledge for days.

Ron’s fear manifested on the sixth day. In his haze of exhaustion, he went straight to the library after a bathroom break without returning to the hallway where he left Harry. It took Hermione an embarrassing few minutes to realize his absence.

“Ron?”

Ron glanced up, annoyed at his perusing being interrupted. “What?”

“Where’s Harry?” 

They stared at each other for a moment before scrambling to get up. Madam Pince yelled after their sprinting forms, even louder when she heard Ron cursing as he passed.

In the hallway near the boys’ bathroom, Draco Malfoy happened upon Harry, head down, leaning against the wall without his two friends.  

"Potter," He called, excited to finally get some entertainment. 

Harry made no reaction.

“Potter!” He called again, annoyance settling in.

Still no response.

Fed-up, he marched to Harry and roughly pulled his fringes up. With a start, Draco realized that The Harry Potter was asleep. Against the wall. In the hallway. 

What in Merlin’s name?  

“Oi!” Draco shook him slightly.  

In Harry’s sleep-addled state, the sound registered as ‘boy’ .

Harry stiffened up, back ramrod straight. “Yes, Uncle Vernon?”

Draco watched Harry’s eyes not even meet his, watched them zoom left to right like he was in some kind of trance. Harry, meanwhile, was trying to figure out what Vernon was calling him for this time. Did he oversleep? Is it time for dinner? Has he cooked yet? Oh no. He’s not getting food today, is he?

That’s how Ron and Hermione found them both; a panicking Harry and a perplexed Draco.

"What did you do?" Ron growled, roughly pushing Draco away from Harry. 

Draco stepped back, surprised at the strength, but managed to fixed a sneer on his face. “Nothing, Weasley. He was asleep against the wall like some freak when I found him.”

Freak .

Harry started to shake. Ron, alarmed, blocked Harry from Draco’s startled gaze. Hermione stepped in front of them both, right hand clenched tightly. 

“Leave, Malfoy” Her voice was ice cold. 

“Harry, Harry, mate, calm down –”

Hermione raised her fist threateningly. “Now.”

Draco Malfoy walked away from a perfect opportunity to mess with his rival, confused, intimidated, and immensely curious. He still heard Weasley assuring Potter that he was still in Hogwarts as he rounded a corner. A weirdly familiar tabby cat passes by his legs. In Draco’s hurry to write a letter of the encounter to his father, he gave it no second thought.

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

The trio was gathered in the common room way past curfew, Harry wrapped tightly in a blanket. Exhausted but still determined to find something. Hermione, in particular, was debating making a search engine for all wizardry knowledge. Closing a book, she reached for another one and began to open it when she caught sight of the title.

Tri-Wizard Tournament Rule Book

Wasting no time, she opened the table of contents and scanned it so fast that her finger burned from dragging it. 

There!

Rules: in relation to entering a potential champion’s name.......  p.394

Ron took notice of her quick breathing and too-harsh flicking of the pages. “Hermione? Did you find something?”

“Rule book, rules, entering, name,” was her only response, effectively catching Harry’s attention.

He and Ron abandoned their respective books and sat on either side of Hermione as she continued to flick so fast that her fingers were just a blur. She abruptly slammed both palms on two pages that Harry and Ron jumped. 

“The minimum age requirement… enforced by headmasters…” Hermione muttered, then gasped. “Here!”

All three of them leaned forward.

“In the occasion that a student’s name is entered outside their control, such as by another individual, and without their explicit consent,” started Hermione excitedly, but her voice grew quieter as her eyes read the next words. “The student may be withdrawn by…” 

Cold – freezing – dread washed over Harry like a towering wave. 

“... a blood relative of legal age.” 

Silence. 

A silence so heavy, Harry wondered if they heard his heart drop to the pits of his stomach. 

“Well,” said a hesitant Hermione. “Maybe… maybe –”

Ron shook his head and mimed zipping his mouth. Hermione shut her mouth with an audible click. Harry, with great effort, smiled shakily at his speechless friends.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “For trying.”

Harry reached out and squeezed Hermione’s hand with his left and Ron’s with his right. Then he stood up, turned around, and disappeared up the stairs. 

Ron bowed his head and put it in his hands. 

“But Ron, surely, they’re his relatives –”

“They barred his windows in second year,” Ron seethed. “They starve him, Hermione. There’s bruises on Harry that I’m sure aren’t from Quidditch or from our misadventures!”

“But –”

“Hermione,” Ron begged. “You were there!”

She was. 

She was there when Ron tried to calm Harry down from a panic attack. She had never seen Harry like that before, Hermione suspected it was due to the lack of proper rest. And so, not knowing what to do, she watched helplessly as Ron slowly convinced Harry that he was in Hogwarts. Not Privet Drive. 

“Then…then there has to be – has to be something else – other than this,” Hermione resumed flicking the pages, eyes wide and frantic. 

“‘Mione,” said Ron brokenly. “Hermione, stop.”

“Has to be, there has to be,” pleaded Hermione, tears falling down her cheeks and her hands nearly tearing the book’s pages. “Please, please –”

“Hermione, stop!” Ron her fingers off the pages. 

“We can’t give up. We can’t!” 

“We aren’t,” agreed Ron. 

“We’re not giving up!” Hermione insisted.

“We’re not,” repeated Ron, voice softening. “But no amount of books is going to help us now.”

Ron breathed deeply. “We have to… have to switch our focus in helping Harry… pass the tasks.”

They can’t withdraw him.

“There’s nothing else we can do.”

Hermione buried her face in the useless, damned book and cried. Cried until she was choking on her sobs in an effort to not wake the entire house. She didn’t care if it soaked the pages. One of her best friends is going to have to compete in a bloody death tournament, a wet book is at the bottom of her priority list. 

Ron, knowing that she will care about a wet book later, gently pulled it from her. If there were tears leaking from his eyes too, only the empty fireplace would know.

Up in the boys’ dorm, the words boy and freak bounced around a quietly crying Harry’s mind.

Chapter Text

“Ronnikins!”

Ron woke up with a jolt. He blinked blearily at two identical fi – oh no.

“What do you want, you two?” He asked the twins and cleared his dry throat. 

Fred and George glanced at each other and seemed to have an entire conversation in a single moment. Ron groaned openly. He hated it when they did that. It either meant trouble or Trouble with a capital T. For once, the twins didn’t have their scheming faces on. Ron prayed those wouldn’t make an appearance at all.

“Look, I don’t have time for any of your mischief, alright?” said Ron as he stood up. “I got things to do.”

“That’s exactly what we–”

“ – want to talk to you about.”

Ron looked back and forth between them in confusion. “Why are you suddenly interested in sticking your noses into my business?” 

They narrowed their eyes at him and said in unison, “We want to know what’s going on.”

Trouble with the capital T it is. 

“Nothing’s going on,” said Ron a little too quickly. 

“Oh yeah, sure. Nothing’s going on.”

“That ‘nothing’ wouldn’t have anything to do with your heavy eyebags?”

“The fact that you spend most of your time at the library?”

“Or that you never leave Harry’s side?”

“Or that you’ve only been eating the bare minimum?”

“What about how you and Hermione haven’t been arguing?”

“Seems almost as if you two are working –”

“ – towards a common goal.”

“Must be serious.”

“Very serious.”

“Considering that you –”

“ – and her –”

“ – fell –”

“ – asleep –”

“ – in the common room,” Fred and George finished, giving Ron a glare that was very much like Bill’s when he caught any of them in the act of doing something questionable. 

Ron spotted Hermione not too far away, still asleep on the couch and wrapped in the blanket he threw over her last night. Maybe if he wished hard enough, his accidental magic would wake her up. Fred or George (he never could tell them apart) snapped a finger in front of his face. 

“We’re –”

“ – waiting.”

Ron had to think of something fast. He can’t lie to their face, they’ll end up snooping around instead. He’s unsure if Harry wants the twins to know, especially because they were part of the party the house threw in his honor for getting picked. Speaking of Harry…

“You might want to rethink your belief that Harry entered himself in the tournament,” he said lowly, before realizing they were the only ones in the common room. “Wait, what time is it?”

“Way past breakfast.”

“Not quite near lunch.”

“Anyway –”

“ – carry on.”

“Like I said, you might want to rethink that, and…” memories of last night resurfaced. “I’m not in the position to tell you everything so maybe –”

“Ask Harry?”

“No!” Ron yelled and rubbed his face. “He’s… he’s not in the best place right now. So don’t ask him. But just… be there for him? I guess?”

They eyed him suspiciously. 

“Are you saying we should –”

“ – cheer him up?”

“... yeah,” said Ron, a plan formulating in his head. “Hermione and I need to do some things and I doubt he’ll be in the mood to join us today. He didn’t come down for breakfast, did he?”

Fred and George glance at each other again. “No, he didn’t.”

If Ron offered his comforts to Harry, they would only be empty. He and Hermione needed to do something, find something. Fred and George can guard and entertain Harry for now. The weekend is too precious for them to waste. 

“Alright, we’ll accompany Harry.”

“But Ron –”

“Hm?” 

There was a distinctly conflicted look on the twins. 

“Take care of yourself.”

Second year. Ginny. Possessed. Because they didn’t pay attention.  

Ron gave them his best reassuring smile. 

Hermione woke shortly after Fred and George left the common room. They decided to have brunch at the Great Hall and then… do something after.

“So here’s what I’m thinking.” Despite the good sleep, Hermione still looked a little out of it. 

“There’s no way the Dursleys are his last and only remaining family,” Hermione fiddled with her fingers. “It’s simply impossible. He has to have some other relatives, however distant.” 

“Maybe he’s related to some other wizarding families,” wondered Ron. 

“Tracing Potter’s bloodline? Why ever would you be doing that, Weasley?”

Suppressing a scream of frustration, Ron turned his head to a sneering Draco Malfoy. 

“And why ever should we be telling you?” Hermione asked back icily and, in a complete turn of mood that Ron did not expect, looked at Malfoy with open curiosity. “You would know a lot of things about wizarding families. Wouldn’t you, Malfoy?”

… Oh!

“Bet you learned all of it really young,” Ron goaded. “Though I doubt you’d know much about Harry’s family. Him being half, and all.”

Predictably, Draco took offense. 

“I’ll have you know, Weasley, that I do,” He said pompously.  “Everybody from proper families knows the Potters only had one son each in the past four generations. They either married women from extinct, unimportant lines or (insert sneer here) muggles. Idiotic.”

Ron was a hair’s width away from jumping off any open window. Hermione suddenly dug her fingers into Ron’s arm so hard that it hurt. He barely contained a wince.

“Thank you so much for that enlightening piece of information, Malfoy,” she said, voice sickeningly sweet. “I’m afraid Ron and I must be off now. We have important things to do.”

She pulled Ron away and Malfoy, always wanting to have the last word, yelled something about blood traitors and mudbloods. Ron couldn’t hear it from the pain of Hermione’s grip on him. 

“Hermione –”

“I have an uncle who’s a geneticist.”

“A ge-what?”

“A muggle medi-wizard who specializes in the study of genetics, er, blood. Point is, he can trace blood relations,” explains Hermione, eyes alight with renewed hope. “You heard Malfoy. The Potters either married women from extinct lines or –”

“Muggles,” Ron finished, finding himself grinning alongside her. “Whoever those women’s families are can withdraw Harry. Brilliant!”

“I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of this earlier,” Hermione said in disbelief. “My uncle lives in Edinburgh and was there when Professor McGonagall gave me my letter. It shouldn’t be too hard to explain things to him and get a quick reply.”

“This can work,” Ron said breathlessly. 

“It can,” nodded Hermione. “It has to.”

“... Can you let go of my arm now?”

“Sorry.”

They procured a quill and parchment from someone Ron didn’t bother to remember the name of. He fed himself and Hermione while she made quick work of the letter. In no time, they were running to the owlery where Hedwig swooped down in front of them. She stuck her leg out as if sensing the letter was to help Harry. Not seeing the harm in it, they let her deliver it to Hermione’s uncle. 

They watched her fly away and couldn’t find it in themselves to move. So they sat there, in nervous anticipation. 

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Harry had woken up by the Black Lake and promptly freaked out. 

Fred and George were on either side of him in an instant. On their arms were a bunch of food and beverages and there were three brooms not far from them. 

“You’ve been too cooped up, Harry!”

“Thought you might like some time outside!”

And Harry, feeling like if he asked where Ron and Hermione were would bring up unwanted questions (and memories), went along with it. And that’s how he spent the entire day eating, flying over the lake, napping, and exchanging jokes with the twins. They never brought up anything that could be related to the tournament. It was the most peaceful and relaxed Harry had been in days. 

From time to time, he would catch Fred and George exchanging looks when they think they were out of his field of vision. 

The sun was setting and they were just lying down on the shore in comfortable silence. And the twins’ silent communication. Having enough of it, Harry sat up and faced them both.

“Alright, fess up.” He crossed his arms. “What was this really about?”

They wouldn’t meet his eyes. 

“Come on, guys,” said Harry. “Just tell me.”

“We’re sorry,” Fred – because Harry is sure that one’s Fred – said, finally meeting his gaze. 

“For what?” asked Harry.

“For believing you entered yourself,” explained George.

Harry kept silent for a few moments. “What made you change your mind?”

“Cleared our head.”

“Thought back to the past few days”

“Remembered how miserable you looked.”

“Remembered how protective Ron and Hermione were.”

“Mate, you lost weight.”

“You looked like you didn’t sleep a blink.”

“It didn’t scream triumphant to us.”

“It didn’t seem right at all.”

“Yeah, what reason could you possibly even have –”

“ – to enter the Tri-Wizard Tournament in the first place?”

“If I wanted a sure way to die,” Harry mumbled without thinking, earning identical looks of horror. 

“But you don’t,” said Fred. 

“Right?” asked George. 

I don’t know . 

Harry thought he probably shouldn’t say that. “I forgive you two.”

The change of topic was a whiplash to them. 

“What?”

“But Harry –”

“But nothing,” Harry interrupted. “You noticed what was going on and pieced together the truth. And asked me for forgiveness. It’s much more than anyone else has done. I forgive you.”

Fred and George looked mighty ready to argue but a shout caught their attention.

“Harry!”

Ron and Hermione were running to them, Hermione with a package in her hands. 

“Er, hullo,” Harry said once they arrived at their spot and panted for breath. “What’s that?”

Hermione’s wide grin was blinding in the night. “A DNA test kit!”

Harry blinked at it as Hermione continued to hold it out to him in excitement, Ron wheezing beside her. 

“A what?”

Chapter Text

When Hedwig came flying in the next morning with a letter tied to her feet, Fred and George set off growing slime in the Great Hall the moment the trio got hold of it and scampered out. The prank will give them enough time up in the Astronomy Tower. They sat on its cold floor in a triangle. Nearly a minute had passed and Hermione was still staring at the test results in her hand and hadn’t said a word. 

“Hermione?” Ron prompted.

“Right, erm.” Hermione took a deep breath. “I don’t know how to put this.”

“Just say it!” Harry, whose stomach had been twisting with anxiety the whole time, said a little too loudly. 

“Do you know who Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne are?”

Harry’s thoughts and anxiety came to a screeching halt. 

Hermione mistook his silence for a negative answer and she raised her eyebrows at him. “You really don’t know them?”

"I've heard of them from the telly but I don't see why you're bringing up two billionaires," said Harry incredulously. "I thought that test was going to tell us about any distant relatives." 

“Harry.” Hermione swallowed. “They are the distant relatives.”

He was on his feet in a heartbeat and snatching the paper from Hermione’s hands in two. 

Anthony Edward Stark. Paternal. 

Bruce Thomas Wayne. Maternal.

Harry tore his eyes away from the paper and looked out to the sky, thinking –

This is it. My life’s officially insane. If it weren’t already insane before, it definitely is now . 

Ron kept a concerned eye on Harry while asking, “Who’re they, exactly?”

“Like Harry said, billionaires,” Hermione explained, also looking at Harry in worry. “American billionaires, they’re philanthropists too and, uh, notorious playboys.”

Ron winced at the whispered last two words. “What do philanthropists do?”

Alright, recap. What do I know about Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne?  

Stark’s an American hero or something. He wears a metal suit, right? Well, he’s a hero. So maybe he’ll see helping me as the good thing to do. But he also likes throwing parties and has about three girls on each arm every time I saw him –

Ron felt the jealousy creeping up on his chest before he recognized it as Hermione explained the term to him. Because wow . Billionaires so rich they give away money to help strangers? 

“I’m guessing Stark is from a squib line of the Potters who immigrated to the Americas. We don’t know much about the Evans so there’s that about Wayne,” Hermione rambled. “That would mean they’re quite very, very distantly related but the fact that Uncle Paul still connected them both to… Harry?”

What about Wayne? He has kids! That’s a good sign, yeah? His kids have neat black hair and blue eyes and are handsome as hell. I’m like the opposite of all those three. He’s also from Gotham which is a big red flag on its own –

He felt this before, Ron realized. When Harry’s name flew out of the goblet and he hadn’t seen his reaction yet. And every other time when he was overshadowed by Harry. 

“Harry?”

It’s done. I’m done for. What’s there left to do? Compete in the tournament? Ha! I’m not even legal to do magic outside of school yet. What’re the odds I come out of that unscathed? Or even alive?

Ron’s face started to sour at Hermione’s repeated calling of Harry’s (it’s always Harry Harry Harry Harry Harry) name. 

What if he just…

“Harry!”

Slap .

Harry’s head snapped to the side. Ron gaped at Hermione.

“I’m sorry!” she said immediately. “You weren’t blinking and it seemed like you… like you were…”

Harry’s stunned face is all the reminder Ron needed to push the jealousy back down to the depths where it belonged. This is his best mate. And he didn’t ask for any of this. He doesn’t even want any of this. Ron took another deep breath to ground himself.

“So, this is it?” Harry’s voice is devoid of anything.

“Huh?”

Harry’s blank eyes don’t meet theirs. “I’m going to have to compete and there’s no way out of it.”

“What are you talking about?” Hermione asked, picking up the neglected test result from the ground. “This is the way out –”

“ That is a joke!”

Hermione reeled back. Ron gaped again, this time at Harry.

“Are you saying my Uncle’s incapable?” Hermione yelled in indignation.

“No!” Harry yelled back. “I’m saying that reaching out to them is a joke –”

“How is it a joke?”

Harry barked out a laugh that was uncomfortably close to Sirius’ when his main goal was still to kill Pettigrew. “Do you honestly think they’ll pay attention to some random, nobody kid from England who claims to be their relative? They probably get at least five of those on the daily.”

“You are not just some random, nobody kid!” Ron shouted. “You heard ‘Mione, they seem like good men –”

“I don’t bloody matter in the muggle world, especially to adults!” Harry bellowed. “They’re all the same! They promise to help and then do nothing! They say they care and then don’t listen! All I am to them is a Frea –”

Bang . 

The trio whipped their heads to see Fred, his wand raised in the air, and George. The three of them were panting, the fight and the anger bled out of them the more the twins stared them down. 

It’s George who spoke up. “What in Merlin’s name is going on?”

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George made them apologize to each other like they were preschoolers. The apologies were sincere though. Hermione recapped everything; the rule, the plan, the DNA test, the results, a summary of who Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne are, Harry’s reaction, and a rundown of their screaming match. The trio, with heads bowed in shame and embarrassment, awaited the twins’ reaction and input.

“First of all,” said Fred. “We believe the situation could have been handled better.”

“But,” said George. “We understand that emotions were running high and you’re all going through your emotional teen years phase.”

The twins snickered as the three scrunched up their noses in near unison. 

“Second of all,” continued Fred, looking at Harry seriously. “Why are you so against the idea of reaching out to this Wark and Stayne?”

“They may be playboys but they seem to be pretty decent blokes in the other departments. Wark has a bunch of kids and Stayne’s a hero. And they both love charity.” George peered at Harry. “What’s this really about, Harrikins?”

Harry mumbled something they didn’t catch.

“Can you repeat that?” George asked kindly. 

“Would they even care?” Harry repeated. “They’re busy with their own complicated, very high-profile lives.”

“If they don’t, then to hell with them.” Fred shrugged, holding up a finger to cut off Ron and Hermione’s baffled exclamations. 

“Yeah,” agreed George. “Wasn’t the backup plan to assist you through the tournament?”

“I would prefer it if Harry keeps all of his limbs attached by summer,” Hermione near growls. “Alive and breathing too.”

Fred gave her a flat look. “He’s not going to die.”

George mirrored his brother. “Dumbledore wouldn’t allow it.”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest and… nothing. They’re right. Dumbledore wouldn’t. That calmed Harry a little. If there’s one adult he still has some belief in, it’s Dumbledore. 

“See?”

“There you have it!”

“And they’re back at it,” Ron grumbled. 

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t –”

“ – worth a shot though.”

“Who knows, maybe one of them will adopt you.” Ron wiggled his eyebrows. 

Hermione saw it again. The way his eyes dulled and his shoulders curled in on themselves. 

“We should start writing the letter!” She piped up. “Then we’ll send it to my uncle who can then forward it to Mr. Stark and Mr. Wayne faster than owls can. His credentials will support Harry’s claim and we can get some form of a reply maybe three days at most?”

Fred and George snuck out to get some ink and parchment. Hermione stood back and let Harry write drafts of the letter himself. She figured that he needs to do something that he feels he has control over. The wording of the letter is a small thing but she hoped it was enough for now. 

Hermione replayed the two most severe cases of Harry reacting negatively to anything remotely family related since researching the tournament rules. She thought back to watching helplessly as Harry slid down the wall, eyes looking nowhere and everywhere at once. She recalled the shallow breaths, the way he clutched at his chest. 

“Touch the floor, Harry. What do you feel?”

“St– stone?”

“That’s right. Do the Dursleys have stone floors?”

“... no.”

“That’s because you’re not with them. You’re not in Privet Drive. Can you say that with me?”

And just earlier. She saw how his muscles started to relax, how all traces of emotion disappeared from his face. She remembered how his entire body started to shut off.

Like he was giving up.

She slapped him in her panic. Her only thought was that a lifeless blank Harry is something she never wants to see.  If she has to fly across the pond and give a superhero and a child collector a piece of her mind, then so be it. 

“Hermione! Listen to this!” Harry cleared his throat dramatically. “Hi. My name’s Harry Potter and I just found out that I’m your distant nephew or cousin, depending on how you look at it. My name was entered in a dangerous competition without my knowing and now everyone expects and is forcing me to compete against my will. The official rules require a blood relative to formally withdraw me but my parents died when I was a baby and my other relatives would gladly see me die. I would really appreciate it if you could help. Thanks.”

Ron and the twins howled with laughter. Harry grinned in that lopsided way Hermione had come to associate him with. 

“What do you think? Enough to convince two Billionaire-Playboy-Philanthropists?”

Hermione laughed and swatted at him with no real heat. 

“ My other relatives would gladly see me die. ”

She caught Ron’s gaze, and then the twins’, and she knew she wasn’t alone in her newfound goal.

The world will have to burn first before they let Harry Potter return to Number four Privet Drive. 

Chapter Text

When Dr. Paul Granger received a request from his favorite niece for a DNA test kit, he thought nothing of it and tied one to the snowy owl. He got the used kit back at midnight together with a detailed explanation.

He was not impressed. 

Yes, he did remember Harry. He remembered Hermione ranting for hours on end at how ridiculous it was to defeat a Dark Lord as an infant and that it can’t be possibly true. When he saw her again after her first year, she had a mighty lot more things to say about him. Very heartwarming and also worrying things. 

Poor lad couldn’t seem to catch a break. 

He tamped down the urge to withdraw his niece from that sorry excuse of a school, got out of his bed, drove to his clinic, and worked. Paul knew how important Harry Potter was to Hermione. He hadn’t met the boy personally but he firmly believed that nobody – especially a child – deserved to go through a bloody death tournament against their will. 

Seven cups of coffee (as black as the black eye he would like to give to whoever thought the tournament was a good idea) later, Paul blinked blearily at the screen that held the results. He made and downed another cup of coffee (this time as black as the black eye he would love to give to a certain Headmaster who let a three-headed dog, the ghost of a serial murderer, a snake that petrifies with one look, and a mass murderer in the school where his niece studied in) and read the results again. 

They had not changed. 

As if in a trance, Paul printed said results, quickly scribbled a letter and tied it to the snowy owl perched calmly on a chair as if nothing was wrong in the world. The owl – Ludwig? – hooted at him as if to say ‘welcome to the circus’ and flew away. 

He stood there for a few moments, blinking drowsily. Then he called his secretary and told her that he would be taking a week off. 

Paul made quick work of encoding Harry’s letter when the owl returned the next day at noon. It was a concerning experience in itself and raised more questions than he liked. Once the emails were sent, he placed the calls that would ensure Stark and Wayne saw them as soon as possible. 

All that was left to do was wait. For Harry’s sake, he hoped it wouldn’t be too long.

‘To Mr. Stark/Mr. Wayne,

 

My name is Harry James Potter and I’ve recently discovered that we share a blood relation. Attached with this email is the DNA test result I took with Dr. Paul Granger from the Grangers’ Genetics Clinic in Edinburgh, Scotland. I reach out to you with an admittedly unique request. 

 

There’s much about me and my circumstances that I cannot reveal due to laws in place. What I can state is that my name was entered into a dangerous inter-school competition without my knowledge and consent. According to the official rules, a blood relative is required to formally withdraw me. My parents passed more than a decade ago and my closest relatives are not very cooperative. I am willing to pay for any expenses needed such as tickets, accommodations, and whatever additional amount you would require to make up for the hassle. 

 

Should you accept, thank you for being willing to help, it is deeply appreciated. Please contact Dr. Granger as soon as possible, he will be the one to arrange a meeting for further details and explanations. Should you not, thank you for taking the time to read this and I apologize for the bother. 

 

Sincerely,

Harry James Potter.’

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Pepper Potts held her tablet tightly as she made her way to Tony’s workshop. The email had shocked her, and the call even more. The moment she entered the workshop, an arrow whizzed past her and cracked the glass four inches to her right. 

“Oh,” Tony said, bow in hand and about dozens of more arrows on the table beside him. “What do you think, Pep? Good enough damage for our dear Hawkeye?”

 “There’s something you need to read.”

Tony made a face. “It better not be another tabloid that warrants a press conference.” 

“It’s important, Tony.”

Her worry must have been clear in her expression because Tony took the offered tablet.

After reading, Tony opened his mouth and then closed it. He repeated this a few more times before finally settling on “How dangerous is this inter-school competition that the kid resorted to taking a DNA test?” 

“And considering the fact that he already has relatives.” Pepper worried her lip. “What level of ‘not very cooperative’ could they be if he went this far?”

“He’s willing to give financial compensation? He knows that I’m a billionaire, right? Who is this kid?” Tony started to pace. “Jarvis, look up the records of a Harry James Potter.”

A few seconds passed. A few seconds too long. 

“Sir, I have found enrollment forms, grade reports, and one school report from St. Grogory's Primary School in Little Whinging, Surrey, England.”

The files appeared beside Tony in a hologram. Tony and Pepper waited.

“That’s… all sir.” Jarvis sounded as surprised as they felt. 

“Jarvis, buddy, you’re serious?” Tony swiped through the meager amount of information they have. “Nothing else?”

“None, sir.”

“That’s…” Pepper trailed off.

“Weird,” Tony finished. “Very, very weird. So where does he study now? What’s the name of this shitty ass school?”

“I’m sorry, sir. But I have nothing.”

“Don’t apologize, bud,” said Tony, not liking how frustrated Jarvis sounded. “But I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.”

“Are you declining?” asked Pepper. 

“I’m not declining!” Tony pushed aside the prototype arrows. “The DNA test results are legit – they are legit right?”

“Yes, sir. I have verified them.”

“Thank you. And the kid’s desperate. The lack of records is just… unsettling.”

“Might I suggest getting in contact with Dr. Granger?” 

Files, more thorough ones, on Dr. Paul Granger appeared beside Harry Potter’s. Tony’s eyes briefly brushed through them. Single. Has an older brother who’s a dentist who also married a fellow dentist and had one daughter. Details on his schooling and mastery. A clinic in Edinburgh, Scotland. 

“Good idea, Jarvis,” Tony clapped his hand and turned to Pepper. “Schedule me a flight to Edinburgh.”

“Sure – what ?” Pepper chased after him as he started to leave. “You’re flying there? Getting in contact doesn’t exactly mean going to the person physically, Tony. Phones exist if you forgot!”

“Of course, I didn’t,” Tony said as if Pepper was the idiot in this situation. “But wherever this Dr. Granger is, the kid is sure to be nearby. So the faster I can get him out of his mess and figure out what the hell is going on.”

Pepper considered reminding him of the meetings he had in the following days but relented. Knowing Tony, there was no stopping him when he already set his mind on something. She canceled and rescheduled them with her tablet. 

“How soon do you want to leave?” She asked in resignation. 

“This is why you’re the best, Pep,” Tony smirked at her. “And the earliest you can get a pilot.”

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Around the same time, Alfred Pennyworth descended into the Batcave with the foreboding feeling of something messy coming. He positioned himself behind Bruce typing away at the Batcomputer and cleared his throat. Bruce grunted in acknowledgment. 

“Sir, I believe there is something you should read.”

Bruce’s eyebrows pinched momentarily. “Is it important?”

Alfred gave him a look that said ‘as if I would bother you if it was not’.

Bruce opened his work email and read in silence. Alfred knew he was finished when he leaned on the table and folded his hands in that dramatic detective pose. Bruce’s eyes kept trailing back to ‘circumstances that I cannot reveal due to laws in place’ and ‘my closest relatives are not very cooperative’. He wordlessly started a search for any traces of a Harry James Potter. 

Enrollment forms, grade reports, and one school report from St. Grogory's Primary School in Little Whinging, Surrey, England. 

Bruce blinked and searched further, but the trail ended there. 

“That better not be a second Damian, B.”

“Good evening, Master Tim,” Alfred said cordially. 

“Evening, Alfred,” Tim smiled a bit then glared at Bruce. “Seriously. Protection – ever heard of it?”

“He’s not my son.”

“Are you sure? There’s no birth certificate to prove that.”

“... How long have you been listening in?”

“Long enough,” Tim shrugged, waving his phone and showing Bruce that he did his own research too. “Can’t find anything else either.”

Bruce’s eyebrows metaphorically raised at that. If even Tim can’t find more about this Harry Potter, then how trustworthy is this letter?

“I’ve verified the validity of the test results and Dr. Granger’s credentials,” Alfred said out loud, sensing his question. “If there’s someone we can talk to further about this concerning matter, it would be him.” 

Bruce said nothing and stared at the one picture – a standard two by two – of the boy that they have. Messy black hair, startling green eyes, alarmingly thin face, and round glasses that looked ready to fall apart if it weren’t for the sellotape. His eyes trailed back again to those same two lines.

“There’s something more going on,” said Bruce. “I doubt a couple of emails or call exchanges with Dr. Granger will be enough.”

“So, what? You’re flying there?”

Bruce grunted. 

“You’re actually flying there. To Scotland. Why am I surprised?” Tim threw up his hands and walked away. 

“Dr. Granger’s most likely to be near wherever Harry is,” Bruce explained. “That way, I can get answers and assist Harry with his situation.”

Alfred nodded. “I shall make the necessary preparations then.”

Bruce eyed Tim who was typing away at his phone. 

“Tim –”

“Too late, I pressed send.”

Heads up

New kid 

Coming soon to a Wayne Manor near you 

Bruce sighed a long-suffering sigh. “Can you at least hold them off long enough until I meet Harry?”

Dick said he was already packing his things. Jason was cursing up a storm and throwing threats left and right. Cass was quiet. And Tim’s sure he can feel Damian stomping down towards the cave. Maybe Tim should stay out of the manor for a while. 

“Nope!” Tim smiled. 

“I will take care of the children, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, taking pity at his constipated look. “You prepare for your flight and I shall do the rest.”

“Whatever will I be without you, Alfred?”

“Dead, I would assume.”

Tim cackled at the same time Damian’s voice echoed throughout the cave.

“Father! I demand an explanation!”

Chapter Text

“Pepper,” Tony switched his camera to point it at the locked door. “We got a problem.”

Closed until further notice. Please re/schedule appointments through this email xxxxx or this number xxxxx.

“Shit. Sorry, Tony,” Pepper apologized. “There weren’t any indications that his clinic would be closed.”

“Hello? Is this Dr. Granger’s secretary?”

Tony turned at the familiar voice. Just a few feet away is Bruce Wayne in all his suited up glory, looking out to the street, phone to his ear.

“Yes, I have an important matter to discuss with Dr. Granger. It’s of utmost priority.”

Tony rolled his eyes at the choice of words. He bid goodbye to Pepper and ended the call to walk closer to Bruce. By the sounds of it, the secretary was giving him Granger’s address. That’s one problem out of the way. 

“Brucie!” He yelled. 

Bruce turned around and grinned a paparazzi grin. “Tony! What a surprise!”

It was not. Bruce was aware Tony was there. Meanwhile, Tony let his own paparazzi grin slip to his face. If that’s how Bruce wanted to play this, then he can spare some time.

“What brings you here? All the way across the pond?”

“Flew all the way here for my geneticist and his clinic closed without prior warnings!”

“Everything alright with your kids? What’s the geneticist for?”

“The kids are wonderful, but it’s a… private matter. How about you?”

“Here for Doc Granger too.”

“Private matter too?”

“Yep.”

“The secretary gave me his address. Here, I’ll forward it to you.”

And that concluded the obligatory polite small talk. 

“Eight new cars.”

“Three. Twelve politicians pissed off.”

“Around fifteen. Businessmen?”

“Uncountable.”

“Me too. Estates?”

Bruce smirked. “Seven.”

“... Four. What do you need so many for?”

“For whenever me or the kids are traveling, we don’t need a hotel,” Bruce shrugged. “And to annoy you. That’s a point for me for estates.”

“Two points to me for cars and businessmen though.”

“Should we count ‘paparazzi messed with’ next time?”

Tony can hear Pepper screaming. “Absolutely. Ridiculous tabloids?”

Bruce laughed long and hard. “Can I please include my kids’ tabloids?”

“Why not?”

“Is that Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne?”

Tony and Bruce glanced at each other before shoving themselves in their respective expensive cars and driving away from the crowd they had attracted. 

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Paul was growing worried. A full day had passed, and still, he hadn’t heard back from both men. By noon, he pulled out some paper to tell Hermione to make another plan. He was already on his second draft – because how do you tell your niece that her friend has to risk his life and compete? – when there was a knock on his door. He was still in his pajamas, not expecting anyone and having no plans to go to work. 

“Please wait for just a moment!” He shouted, quickly putting on a robe and fixing his hair. 

He opened the door.

“... Professor McGonagall?”

Hermione’s Head of House and the professor that appeared at his brother’s doorstep three years ago to introduce them to magic nodded at him. 

“Good noon, Dr. Paul,” she said. “I apologize for coming without notice but there is something urgent I wish to discuss with you.”

“Er, right, uhm, come in?”

He led McGonagall to his dining room. Her wizarding robes in his modern flat looked pretty out of place. They exchanged a few more pleasantries before he embarrassingly realized he hadn’t prepared lunch yet. She waved off his concerns, proceeded to unshrink a picnic basket, and floated plates of food onto his table. 

“Hermione has filled you in on the problem regarding Mr. Potter.” It wasn’t a question. 

“Yes,” Paul said hesitantly. 

“Good. We can proceed with discussing how the relative can withdraw him.”

Paul’s eyes bulged. “How did you –”

Another set of knocks. 

Sighing, he excused himself and went for the door. 

“How may I help –”

Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne greeted his sight. 

“ – you…?”

The three men stood there awkwardly for a solid ten seconds. 

“Your clinic was closed,” Stark said simply as if it explained why they were now in his flat. 

“And your secretary gave us your address,” Bruce added. He flashed Paul that signature paparazzi smile and held out his hand. “Bruce Wayne, nice to meet you.”

“I’m pretty sure he already knows who we are, Brucie.”

“Yes, I do.” Paul shook the offered hand in a slight daze. “Though I must confess that I was expecting a reply, not a visit.”

Wayne had enough shame to look abashed. “The letter was very concerning and I wanted to offer my help immediately.” 

Stark narrowed his eyes. “Wait, you’re here for the Harry kid?”

Wayne turned to him slowly with equally narrowed eyes. “You’re here for him too?” 

“The more the better!” McGonagall crowed from inside. 

Paul held in a hysterical laugh. “Why don’t you two come in?”

Two of the world’s richest and most famous men looked hilariously out of place with their sharp, expensive suits in Paul’s humble flat. Much more beside a calm McGonagall. They were all seated at his circular dining table. Stark and Wayne glared at each other as they sipped the chamomile tea he served. Paul figured they’d all need its calming effects. 

Despite the incoming shitstorm, he found the entire situation somewhat fun. Who knew Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne are somewhat friends?  

“I believe introductions are in order, Dr. Paul,” McGonagall said. 

“Of course.” Paul should really get a grip. “Professor McGonagall, these two gentlemen are Mr. Tony Stark and Mr. Bruce Wayne, Harry’s distant relatives. Gentlemen, this is Professor and Deputy Headmistress McGonagall. She’s also Harry’s Head of House.”

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Stark gestured to Wayne. “Why’s he here?”

Bruce’s polite smile grew a touch bit strained. “I could ask the same of you.”

“I sent the same letter to you both in hopes that one of you would be willing to assist,” answered Paul. 

“That settles it then.” Stark made a shooing motion at Wayne. “You can leave now.” 

Wayne crossed his arms. “Just because I already have children –”

“It’s exactly because of that!”

“What about Parker?”

“He’s just an intern –”

“ Just an intern . Oh, drop it. Everyone knows –”

“He’s one kid compared to your five –”

Oh goodie, they’re both children . Paul thought sardonically.

“The rules have nothing against two relatives participating in the formal withdrawal,” McGonagall said placatingly. “In fact, I think it would make your case much stronger.” 

Both men calmed a little at that, though there was still some tension in the air. Paul had never witnessed this much entertainment in his whole life. The paparazzi would kill to be in his place.

“I would like to know what kind of school would let its student be entered into an allegedly dangerous competition without his consent,” Bruce said smoothly. 

“You’re from the school I couldn’t get any records of? Ma’am just what and where is this school?” Tony demanded.

Paul drowned his laugh with his tea. 

“Gentlemen –” She put down her cup. “ – do you believe in magic?”

Tony looked like he ate a particularly nasty lemon. “Don’t remind me.”

“My nephew has magic?” Bruce leaned in with curiosity. “Really?”

“You mean our nephew.”

“No.”

“Wow –”

McGonagall cut in before they could have another squabble. She gave them the Magic Is Real speech together with the demonstration. Word by word and action by action to how Paul remembered it. He was disappointed to see that the two men showed less enthusiasm or wonder. It was expected of Stark, he supposed, being a part of the Avengers and the Battle of New York fiasco and all. Wayne was a bit suspicious. He heard he funds the Justice League so maybe it’s that?

“And as for Mr. Potter,” McGonagall sighed. 

Paul stood up to brew more chamomile. 

“That bad?” Tony shifted in his seat, frowning heavily.

“Please, Professor,” Bruce urged. “Continue.”

“I beg of you, for my… our sake, hold off your questions and exclamations until I finish.”

Paul only vaguely knew about the tragedy of Harry’s parents and the dangerous going-ons in Hogwarts. So hearing it all in detail was a painful and shocking experience. McGonagall told them about the war, the prophecy, the betrayal, the murder of Lily and James Potter, the Dursleys, brief overview of the Hogwarts misadventures from first to third year, and the issue with the tournament. By the end of it, Paul was ready to call his brother and force him to withdraw Hermione from the school permanently this very instant . 

Stark stood up and left to pace the length of his hallway. Paul noticed how his entire body seemed to shake with whatever emotions he was keeping at bay. Wayne fared a bit better though there was clear tension in his shoulders. 

“Why?” he asked.

Why Harry? Why are these things happening to him? Why haven’t the staff done anything? Why was he entered? Why is he reaching out to us instead of his guardians?

“Why are you doing something about it now?” All traces of Brucie Wayne disappeared, in its place is a distinctly concerned and suspicious father look that Paul often teased his brother for having. 

McGonagall sat up straighter. There were tears that refused to fall on the corners of her eyes. 

“I am tired of watching him be thrown to danger repeatedly.” Her voice wavered but her conviction was strong. “This has gone far enough. I will not – I refuse to fail him again.”

Stark sat back down with a loud exhale. The determination on his face mirrored everyone’s. And so they plotted, they schemed, and they planned. When Paul’s guests finally left at around four in the afternoon, he could finally breathe easy. He wished he could tell Hermione that everything will turn out okay. 

They’d make sure of it. 

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Tony and Bruce found themselves in a conjoined suite at the nearest luxury hotel they could find. No words were exchanged from booking, moving in their luggage, and ordering the strongest alcohol they could get their hands on. 

One could call them friends in the lightest sense. Though all there was to their friendship was a rivalry, they usually kept the other company when they’re both invited to the same parties. Tony once called them the Billionaire-Playboy-Philanthropist-Orphans Duo. Now, the revelations and the discussion at Dr. Paul’s flat established some kind of bond or camaraderie between them. 

Here they were; Bruce sat on a sofa and Tony leaned against the tall glass windows to look out of the city. There was a somber silence between them, broken only by clinks when they occasionally refilled their glasses.

“Did you see how gaunt he looked?” Bruce quietly asked and took a sip of his drink. 

“Bones,” Tony replied just as quietly. “Skin and bones.”

Bruce’s hand clenched so hard that his glass began to crack. “Everything he went through…”

Tony gritted his teeth. He downed his drink in one go and threw the glass across the room. Neither men flinched. Neither men cared. A few more silent moments passed before Tony slowly turned to Bruce.

“Truce,” he proposed. “Let’s get the kid out of that fucked up school.”

“Truce,” Bruce raised his still-cracking glass. “And raise hell on those bastards.”

Without a glass to raise, Tony grabbed the bottle. 

“To Harry Potter-Stark-Wayne!”

“Harry Potter-Wayne-Stark.”

“The truce ends when it comes to the custody.”

“Obviously.”

“Speaking of custody, the Dursleys –”

“Oh, yes .”

They spent the rest of the night compiling every little thing they could use against ‘Vermin and Pisstunia’ – as they have fondly nicknamed them – at court.

Chapter Text

A day or three have passed, Harry’s not sure. The days have either blended together or he stopped caring after he got hexed on his way to the owlery. 

He wanted to check if a reply was already delivered but scolded himself for hoping.

The bullying (and hero worship from the Gryffindors) got progressively worse. Harry’s sanity was held together by a fragile thread. The thread being Hermione’s constant chant of ‘ignore them’, Ron’s shoulder squeezes, and the twins’ joke products. He pretended he never found out that the four held meetings behind his back. He pretended not to see the glances they threw at each other, each with a different meaning Harry could never decipher without giving himself away. And he pretended not to notice the hand motion system they somehow came up with. In Harry’s private opinion, their antics are both silly and endearing. He should tell them to stop wasting their effort but it feels nice to be looked after for a change.

It’s criminally selfish and the guilt gnawed at him for hours on end.

The more time that passed and Hermione’s uncle didn’t send a letter back, the more Harry got himself used to the reality that he would need to compete. When his friends held their nightly meetings to discuss his wellbeing (completely unnecessary), he snuck out with his cloak to train. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was training for, the general goal is To Not Die. Though somewhere down the line the goal changed into Don’t Completely Suck because he didn’t have enough motivation with that other one.

He considered writing to Sirius and ask to be kidnapped but Sirius has his own problems and Harry’s bothering enough people as is.

With a pleasantly numb feeling on his chest, the Slytherins’ insults didn’t hurt as much when they descended to the dungeons. Harry barely felt the time pass as Potions Class droned on. He only snapped out of it because Colin had arrived and said something about wands and photos. Harry was hyper-focused on the fact that it was for the tournament. Hermione and Ron looked reluctant to let him go alone but there was nothing they could do that didn't involve landing detention. He passed by Malfoy’s table and braced himself for a trip, an insult, a hex, anything. 

Harry realized Draco hadn’t done or said anything to him after the Hallway Incident and he isn’t sure if he should be suspicious, embarrassed, or relieved.

Colin talked but the words didn’t process in his brain no matter how hard he tried to pay attention. It was just… sound. After a walk that seemed like an eternity and a second all at once, Harry was left alone in front of some doors he can’t remember having passed by before. Perhaps he had. Doors were the least of his priority after the things he had to deal with in previous years after all. Resigned and determined to get it over with, Harry didn’t bother knocking and entered the room. 

The first thing Harry comprehended is Bagman who was purple with rage and Professor McGonagall screaming right back at him. The second thing Harry comprehended is two men in muggle suits who had a canny resemblance to men he had seen on the telly –

Oh. 

Oh .

… Oh shit .

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

“The rules are the rules! He must compete!”

“The rules say a blood relative is allowed to withdraw a champion should he wish not to compete!”

“I have never heard of that rule in my entire bloody life!”

With a raise of her wand, a copy of what Tony and Bruce assumed to be the rule book appeared right in between Minerva and the shit-excuse of a Minister. Minerva jammed her wand on a page. 

“Then read, Minister.” Minerva’s voice dropped into a very low hiss. “And be educated .” 

Tony let out a snort. Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Not the time,” Bruce whispered through gritted teeth.

“You have to admit, that was good.”

The minister sputtered and then sputtered some more. 

“This is a waste of time.” Bruce tried hard not to glower, earning a chuckle from Tony.

“Patience, Brucie. We’re getting there.”

The minister seemed to have found his footing again because he puffed up his chest at Minerva. “How are you so sure the boy doesn’t want to compete?”

“Okay, I take that back. Maybe we should just raze this place –”

Before Minerva could erupt like a bomb, a quiet voice sliced through the chaos. 

“You never listened, did you?”

All heads turned to the boy by the door. An older version of the one picture Tony and Bruce repeatedly looked at for the past few days. 

“Is that…?” Tony trailed off, breathless.

Bruce nodded once. “It’s him.”

The atmosphere of the room changed. A not-so-subtle shift in temperature, as if they were squeezed into a freezer. 

“I told you – everyone – repeatedly.” 

Tony and Bruce had expected a broken, weary, and angry teen. Harry Potter was all that and more. In a good way or bad way, they couldn’t tell yet. 

“I never wanted to enter myself into the tournament, –” he walked menacingly towards the Minister “ – I didn’t enter myself for the tournament, –” and stopped a few feet away to glare at him with a fury that no fourteen-year-old should be allowed to have “ – and I don’t want to compete in your bloody tournament! ”

The minister was blasted off his feet and slammed into a wall. He slid down the slight dent his body made, ending up as a heap on the floor, unconscious. All eyes slowly went back to Harry who looked just as surprised as they felt. Then he hurried to the Minister.

“Oh – shoot – shit . I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to – I didn’t even –”

“I think that pretty much sums him up, don’t you think?” Tony said to Bruce. 

Bruce resisted pinching the bridge of his nose again in favor of passively watching the rest of the wizards snap into action to help the Minister. He was eventually put into a floating stretcher and pulled out of the room by who he can only assume is this world's version of a school nurse. Minerva was saying rapid assurances to a panicked Harry that he ‘wasn’t in trouble for some accidental magic’. 

“That was quite a surprise.”

Minerva’s face soured. Tony and Bruce instantly knew who it was. 

“Dumbledore!” One of the foreign headmasters yelled in relief. 

A myriad of other people attacked the Headmaster with their exclamations. Dumbledore seemed to get the gist of the situation based on scattered bits and pieces of information from their yelling. 

“I never knew that there was a rule that could help withdraw a champion,” he said (infuriatingly) calmly. 

Minerva stood up to her full height and Harry hesitantly followed her. She put her hands on his shoulders and Bruce could see the way she squeezed them and the way Harry relaxed by half an inch. 

“I imagine you don’t have the time to read through all of the rules, being the Headmaster and all,” replied Minerva with a little hint of sarcasm. “I imagine Mr. Crouch was just as busy for telling us that fateful night that Harry had no other choice –”

“Don’t you go pointing your finger on me, Professor,” Crouch growled. “I was aware of the rule and how useless it was –”

“Useless?” Harry exclaimed incredulously. 

“It is widely known that Mr. Potter has living blood relatives!” Minerva argued.

“They’re muggles!” Crouch pointed at Tony and Bruce with his wand for emphasis. “What can they do? They shouldn’t be allowed to be here in the first place!”

"A stick," said Tony, unimpressed. "Should I be scared?"

"I think so," replied Bruce blandly. "Try shaking your knees a little."

Someone tried to cover their laugh with a cough. 

“There’s nothing in the rule that says anything about if the relatives should be magical or not,” Bruce said a bit louder, slipping fully into his Wayne Enterprise persona. “Tony and I’s lack of magic matters little in the process of withdrawing Harry from the tournament he was entered, might I remind you, against his will.”

Tony raised an eyebrow and whispered, “You’re letting me be the bad cop?” 

Bruce raised an eyebrow right back at him. “You always are. Though between us both it’s more of a calm cop, wild cop.”

“Fair.”

Bruce watched Tony’s posture change and immediately regretted what he said. 

“We don’t need some fucking wand to be allowed to rescue our nephew from this fucked up shit he’s in. Shit of which your ass said ‘whatever, guess this underaged kid has to risk his goddamn life, nothing I can do about it’ and called it a day – you shut the fuck up, I am not done .” 

Crouch closed his mouth. Bruce only slightly regretted what he said.

“Kid’s been through enough already and it’s fucking disgusting that you assholes just let this happen without a single damn care in the world. Is this what the so-called Magical World is? Huh? A bunch of literal grown-up adults who should be thrown into jail for child neglect?”

“Harry has been perfectly safe within Hogwarts walls,” Dumbledore said genially. “He has been protected and –”

“Absolute fucking bullshit!” Tony interrupted viciously. “I can’t believe this. Are you hearing this, Brucie? Perfectly safe and protected . Can you believe this?”

“If by perfectly safe and protected , Headmaster, do you mean that the misadventures in the previous years were… what? Accidents?” Bruce asked, voice still retaining a smoothness Tony was appalled he could still achieve.

“They were exactly as you say; misadventures.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “There were no lasting serious injuries inflicted on dear Harry.”

Bruce grabbed Tony’s arm before he could summon some of his armor. 

“I believe your statements, actions, and inactions should be addressed on another day.” Bruce tightened his hold on a fuming Tony to keep him (and himself) from leaping at the old man. “For now, Tony and I would like to proceed with what we came here for.”

“Of course,” Dumbledore agreed readily. “Though I admit I am curious. I hope you don’t mind me inquiring about why you and Mr. Tony are here today instead of Harry’s aunt –”

“ Another day , Headmaster.” Bruce’s patience was thinning but one of them had to keep a level head if they wanted to get out of this castle murder-free. “The withdrawal, if you please.”

“I have with me copies of what you both will need to say, Mr. Wayne, Mr. Stark,” said Minerva, holding out two sheets of parchment. “They will need to be said in the presence of the Goblet.”

Bruce’s glance flickered momentarily to a shell-shocked Harry before he nodded with a strained smile. “Lead the way, Professor.”

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Nothing was processing in Harry’s brain. He saw and heard everything but it still wasn’t comprehending. It wasn’t that much so why was he being so slow? Okay, maybe it was a bit much.

Who was he kidding? It was a lot . 

His brain must be overheating. Yeah, that’s it. Because one second he was in that unused classroom and the next he was in the Great Hall and the Goblet of Fire (that bloody thing) is in front of him and Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne have parchment on their hands and – why are there so many people? When did they arrive? Why are they here? Are they going to watch? But that’s a good thing, right? They’d know the truth. But they’re staring at him. They’re all staring at him –

Dumbledore tapped on the Goblet. “Request of Withdrawal.”

The Goblet lit up again the same way it did that fateful night. Stark and Wayne began to talk and Harry focused on their voices. 

“I, Anthony Edward Stark –”

“ – and I, Bruce Thomas Wayne –”

“ – blood relatives of one Harry James Potter –” gasps rang throughout the hall “ – request to withdraw him from the Tri-Wizard Tournament –” even more gasps “ – on the grounds that he was entered without his knowledge and against his will.”

Murmurs attacked Harry’s hearing and he tuned them out in fear of what they said. He focused on the tendrils of blue fiery something (he can’t find it in himself to be in awe nor to care about what it is) reaching out and wrapping around Stark, Wayne, and himself. It felt warm and it probed at his chest like it was seeing if what Stark and Wayne said was true. Then it pulled back and disappeared into the Goblet’s blue flames. 

Out shot a blue tendril and attached itself to Harry. It snapped in and something in Harry snapped as well. The tendril fizzled into nothing and the Goblet’s fire went out. 

“The Magical Contract between you and the Goblet is broken,” Professor McGonagall said softly beside him.

Harry turned to her and she answered him with a watery smile. “You’re free.”

Free.

The word echoed in his mind but didn’t really settle. 

Free .

Two bodies slammed into him and he only needed to see the vague heads of red and brown to know who it was. He hugged his two best friends close and buried his head in between their chests. 

Free .

“I’m free,” Harry mumbled. “I’m free.”

“You’re free, Harry!”

“Yes, you are, mate!”

The floor disappeared and he looked up to see Fred and George carrying-spinning them around.

"It's done, Harrykins!"

"It's done, it's done, it's done!"

Those endless hours of reading books, and finding answers. Those sleepless nights. Those hexes and bullying he had to endure. They were worth it. 

“I’m free,” Harry repeated with a sob.

“ I’m free .”

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Tony and Bruce watched on with smiles and grins that were happy yet dangerous. This may be the end of the tournament mess but it was only the beginning of the rest. 

“Ready, Brucie?” Tony asked cheerfully as they walked side-by-side towards the group. 

Bruce smirked. “Phase 1.”

Get the kid out of this fucked up school .

Chapter Text

Harry felt like he was floating. 

He’s out of the tournament, out of their yearly brush with Voldemort, and he could finally have a relaxing year. Maybe he could focus on his studies for once. He could play more quidditch too. Oh! Maybe he could help Sirius find a way to be declared innocent –

“Ehem.”

And suddenly, Harry’s reminded that his life will never be peaceful no matter how hard he tried. 

His friends slowly unwound their arms from around him and they faced Stark and Wayne as a group. Ron and Hermione stood at either side of him, the twins right behind them. It felt like he was being guarded. He didn’t mind it as much as he thought he would. It blocked the stares from the rest of the student population, at least. 

“Mr. Stark, Mr. Wayne,” said Hermione, ever a diplomat. “Would you prefer a more private space?”

“It would be much appreciated,” answered Wayne politely. “Am I correct to assume that you’re Ms. Hermione Granger?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your uncle has told us a lot about you.”

“Oh! Um. All good things, I hope!”

Hermione led the group out. Once the Great Hall’s doors closed, loud chattering erupted. Harry looked up to the ceiling in resignation, already anticipating the level of ridiculous the rumor mill will be in an hour. Hands carefully wrapped around his arms. Harry looked up to the twins questioningly. The three of them were now a few feet away from where Stark and Wayne were passive-aggressively arguing and Ron and Hermione looked on in exasperation. 

“What d’you reckon they’ll come up with this time, Gred?”

“I may have a couple of ideas, Forge.”

“Care to share with me and Harrikins?”

“For one, I think a few will still see it as a plot to be even more famous.”

“As if our dear Harrikins would need more fame.”

“Oh, I know that. But people who aren’t us are quite lacking in the upstairs department.”

Despite himself, Harry chuckled.

“How about you, Forge? Any ideas?”

“Nothing. My upstairs department refuses to waste time thinking about it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier not to do it? Now I’ve wasted a whole three seconds of my life!”

Harry’s laughs must have been too loud because the two billionaires and his two best friends finally noticed he and the twins were lagging behind. Harry caught the look of approval from Hermione and the look of gratitude from Ron that they threw at the twins. Harry’s privately smug he could decipher most of their looks now. 

Hermione pushed open a door and lead Stark and Wayne in. Harry made a move to follow but noticed that Ron had stayed still.

“Ron?”

“We think this is a conversation just between you and them, mate.”

Panic seized his chest. “You’re going to leave me alone with them?”

Ron quickly put his hands on Harry’s shoulders and breathed deeply. As Harry started to copy his breathing patterns and calmed down, he wanted to swat at Ron for such a manipulative tactic. 

“They’re not going to hurt you,” assured Ron. “They’re just going to talk to you about the ‘circumstances’ we vaguely mentioned in your letter and maybe keep in touch with you after this.”

“But why would they want to keep in touch with me?” Harry asked. “They already withdrew me, their job’s done. Don’t they have bigger things to do like running their companies or throwing parties or something?”

Ron stared at him long and hard. “... I think I’ll let them answer those questions.”

Hermione popped up in his field of vision and motioned for Harry to get in. Ron gave his shoulders another squeeze and let go. With one final look of encouragement from the twins, Harry entered the room. 

“We’re just going to be outside to make sure nobody listens in,” Hermione told him. 

She took his hand and squeezed it once. 

It’ll be okay .

Harry’s of the opinion that it most likely won’t be but nodded anyway. 

The door closed and he was left in an abandoned classroom with two of the richest men alive. How exciting. 

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Tony thought this was so immensely awkward but he didn’t trust himself to do something about it. Knowing him, he would make it worse. Thank God for Bruce and his high society breeding. Tony had it too but he lost it around high school. 

“I don’t believe we were properly introduced.”

“We weren’t, sir.”

The kid was too tense. 

“We apologize, we wanted to meet you before the whole …debacle. But the Wand Weighing started and we hadn’t been informed it would be today.”

“It’s okay. People around here tend to do things on a whim,” he said with a completely straight face.

 “I can imagine.” A corner of Bruce’s lips quirked as he held out his hand. “Bruce Wayne.”

The kid shook his hand and turned to Tony to shake his already held-out hand as well. 

“Tony Stark.”

“And I’m Harry Potter but I guess you already knew that.”

He said his name very sarcastically as if he hated being who he was. 

“Why don’t we cut right into the chase, hm?” Tony proposed, happily ignoring another of Bruce’s glares. 

“Alright,” the kid agreed. “How much do you want?”

What?

“What?” Tony repeated, out loud this time. 

The kid looked just as confused as he and Bruce were.

“The payment? I understand you went through a lot of hassle to be here. I can pay you whatever amount.”

Tony faced Bruce and tried to communicate ‘Is this kid serious?’

Bruce’s eyebrows furrowed by half a centimeter as if to say ‘I think he is?’

“Harry, we don’t need financial compensation,” Bruce said slowly. 

“Oh,” the kid said. “Right. You’re billionaires. I can work for you if you want.”

“Work… for us?” 

“Yeah, I can do a lot of chores.”

Tony could almost hear both his and Bruce’s hearts break. The kid went on to list what he could do and how fast he could do them as if it was normal . As if offering himself up for servitude after asking them to do something as little as withdrawing him from a tournament was normal .

“Kid.” Tony’s voice had never sounded this pained before. “You don’t need to do those. Ever.”

He had the most helpless look in his eyes. “Then what do you want?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing,” affirmed Bruce sternly. “You don’t need to offer us any compensation whatsoever.”

“Well, you must want something ,” the kid insisted. “You flew all the way here just to deal with my mess!”

“We flew all the way here because we wanted to help.”

“So I’m repaying your help!”

“No!”

“Why?”

“Because we care, kid!” Tony yelled, stunning the kid and Bruce to silence. “We care, so we came here and helped you. We still want to help you. Because we care .”

It did the opposite effect. Instead of gratitude or understanding, what Tony and Bruce got was even more confusion.

“But why would you?”

Tony didn’t understand how Bruce was still standing upright when all Tony wanted to do at that very moment was gather the kid in his arms, blast his repulsors at all the professors in this damned school (except Minerva), fly back to New York, and wrap him with all the blankets in the world. Tony didn’t trust himself to speak. He’s sure that one singular sound escaped his mouth and it was a cross between disbelief and anguish. 

Phase 1 shouldn’t be to get him out of this fucked up school. They should change it to get him off of this fucking continent because there was no damn way that that kind of mentality was developed in the three years he was in Hogwarts. 

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Bruce had three options. 

Option 1. Diffuse the situation, finish the talk with Harry, and stop Tony from going on a rampage.

Option 2. Diffuse the situation, finish the talk with Harry, put him on a plane bound to Edinburgh, and join Tony on his rampage.

Option 3. Pull out the adoption papers, call the Batplane, and set his kids free to do a rampage while he wraps Harry with every blanket he can buy.

Realistically, he knew Option 1 was the only sensible and logical option. No matter how tempting Options 2 and 3 were. 

And so with great effort and utilizing years of honing his emotion-repressing skills to their full extent, he knelt to Harry’s height. He spoke as softly as someone as furious as he could. 

“We’re your relatives, Harry. We’re your cousins. You’re family. It doesn’t matter if we only met you today or only knew about you for a week. You need our help and we can help, that’s all there is to it.”

Bruce could see that his words had trouble sinking into Harry’s brain. The teen continued to stare at him, gauging if what he said was true. The fact that Harry had to think about if it was true was a painful thought in itself. 

“But you already helped. What else are you here for?” He asked.

Here comes the hard part. 

“We wanted to talk to you about your schooling.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Uh, okay. Like my grades?”

Here it goes.

“It’s more like… the steps we want to take to ensure your safety for the rest of your education.”

The inquiring look was quickly replaced with fury. “You want to withdraw me from Hogwarts?”

Bruce short-circuited. How did Harry get to that part so fast? He was planning to slowly steer the conversation that way while convincing him it was the best course of action. Quickly disregarding that plan, his brain went on hyperdrive to think of a new one.

“We know this isn’t the first time your life was threatened during your stay here,” Bruce said, making sure he didn’t sound as panicked as he felt. “We were given the brief overviews of the previous years’ events and the school’s failure to suitably –”

“My friends and I handled them –”

“Which you shouldn’t have had needed to. In fact, that further proves that the staff here –”

“Are bollocks at being staff, I know, I get it! But there’s nothing we can do about it –”

“Yes, there is! There are other schools outside of just Hogwarts as proof of this tournament. You don’t have to stay –”

“I want to stay!”

Alright, not the best plan. Bruce should diffuse this quick before –

“You want to stay in a fucking school where nobody gives a fuck about your life?”

– Tony joined in. 

“It’s not any different from where I live, not much of a bloody difference at all!”

Hm.

Bruce really should have gone for Option 3.

“Besides, at least here I got my friends and my magic with me. I…” Harry’s voice died off, now realizing what he just said. “It doesn’t matter. I’m thankful and I will be forever grateful that you got me out of the tournament but that doesn’t mean you get to just decide you’re in control of my life now.”

The fury that was aimed at Bagman was now aimed at them.

“I’m sure Professor McGonagall will see you out. Goodbye.”

Harry stomped away and slammed the door shut, leaving Bruce and Tony to look on with increasing regret and with tattered plans. 

Bruce really should have gone for Option 3.

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

“Treacle tart,” Minerva told the gargoyle and she was given entrance. 

She found Dumbledore on his chair, stroking his beard and thinking intensely.

"I don't understand how this could have happened."

Minerva gawked at him. "You're worrying about that of all things?"

"Minerva, you know the importance of Harry staying at the Dursleys," Dumbledore said in a tone that implied Minerva was the one being ridiculous. "This is getting out of hand."

"How is it getting out of hand?" Minerva demanded. "Stark and Wayne are his blood relatives!"

"They're too distant, both in relation and dwelling." Dumbledore shook his head. "We must find a way to return Harry to his aunt."

His relatives, who neglected and abused him. Not putting in more measures to ensure Harry wouldn’t go to the third-floor corridor. Not closing the school and putting in more effort to solve the mystery of the basilisk. Not verifying if Sirius Black was truly innocent. Not doing anything, not even an attempt , to get Harry out of the tournament.

"No."

Dumbledore looked at her in surprise. "No?"

"No," Minerva repeated firmly. "I have had enough entrusting his wellbeing to you when you so clearly don’t care for it.”

“Minerva, you know that is not true –”

“Harry finally has a chance at receiving the familial love he deserves,” Minerva interrupted heatedly. “I will not take it away from him."

She started to turn around and leave when Dumbledore stood up.

"... There are only two copies of the rule book here in Hogwarts," Dumbledore muttered. "Mine and yours."

Smug satisfaction curled in her. "Yes."

“Only you and I can bring muggles beyond the Muggle-Repelling wards.” 

“ Yes .”

Dumbledore looked decidedly stunned and horrified. "What have you done?"

Minerva finally turned and strutted away, head high. She cast one last scathing look at the man she once considered to be her dearest friend.

"What I should have all those years ago."

Chapter Text

Harry emerged from the room, still fuming. Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George all jumped back from him in shock. He stomped past them, ignoring their alarmed questions, and turned a corner sharply. 

“Ow! Watch where you’re going, you – Potter?”

Harry ignored whoever it was (and the slight pain from the impact) and continued speed walking to… He didn’t know where, just anywhere far away from Stark and Wayne. He luckily didn’t encounter anybody else as he let his feet lead him. Harry shouldn’t have been surprised when he found himself by the Black Lake. 

He was hot, he realized. Like his skin was a steadily increasing fire. He dipped a hand in the water and let its cool caresses soothe him. He wasn’t sure how long he just sat there, a hand moving around in the water, simply watching the little waves it made. Harry had never really swam before. He was never allowed to go to pools or beaches. He’s sure he hadn’t been to either. He wondered what it would be like. 

Soft, deliberate footsteps grew closer but Harry couldn’t be bothered to raise his head. Two people sat on either side of him. Hermione leaned her head on his shoulder while Ron opted to put his hand. They didn’t say anything for a while, just stayed like that.

“Where are the twins?” Harry finally asked, voice hoarse. 

“Stayed back to keep… them occupied,” answered Hermione.

They lapsed into another silence. Then Harry sighed and told them everything. 

Ron and Hermione still didn’t say anything for a few more minutes after he’d finished. Harry knew now it was because they were thinking things through before saying anything instead of judging him or not caring like he used to assume.

“They care about you,” said Ron and quickly followed it up at Harry’s groan. “Shut up and stop questioning that for a moment. Let us talk.”

Harry begrudgingly complied. Ron rewarded him with a smile. 

“They approached it the wrong way but they really do care, Harry. Think about it,” He urged. “If they didn’t, they wouldn’t have bothered to fly across the ocean to help, then stay and put in the effort to get to know you.” 

“And offer more of their help,” Hermione added absentmindedly.

“Yes, that too,” Ron nodded. “They’re two of the richest men alive and probably also the busiest. They made the time and effort for you. Trust me when I say they do care.”

Harry still looked a little dubious. 

“Take it from someone who actually knows what love and care from a relative look like.”

Harry flushed and looked down. 

“I didn’t mean for that to sound so harsh, mate –”

“No, no, I get it,” Harry assured him. “But just… why? I just want to know why . Why would they bother to care?”

“You’re family to them, that should be reason enough.”

“The Dursleys are supposed to be my family too.”

Ron’s face darkened. 

“They don’t count,” Ron spat. “Stark and Wayne are loads more decent than they ever will be… even if they fucked up your conversation earlier.”

“Ronald!” Hermione exclaimed, scandalized. “Watch your language!”

“Sorry,” he said, though his tone said otherwise. “Though you can’t deny it’s true.”

Harry turned to Hermione. “What do you think? You’ve been awfully quiet.”

“I suppose I got too focused repeating your account,” she smiled sheepishly then turned serious. “I think I have a grasp as to what they were planning and still could be planning.”

That caught Harry’s attention, not wanting to hurt his brain over the whys. He motioned for Hermione to start.

“Stark’s a genius and Wayne has a history of dealing with children who had less-than-stellar childhoods. I’ve no doubt they have their suspicions about your home life, Harry. Your appearance and attitude could also have further confirmed it for them.”

Harry caught the implications. He squashed the tiny inkling of hope that rose from his chest before it could grow, reminding himself of what hoping had done with Sirius.

“Someone must have filled them in on our past adventures. I have a feeling it was either my Uncle or he brought in someone who was more,” – Hermione looked away, embarrassed — “close to the source.”

Harry cocked his head at her. “Like a professor?”

Hermione giggled a bit. “My uncle may or may not have a way to contact Professor McGonagall. He insisted in case of any more incidents.”

“McGonagall,” Ron said dubiously. “You’re sure?”

“Someone had to have guided Stark and Wayne through the wards,” Hermione explained. “Wouldn’t it be a safety risk if all the professors could bend the wards? That authority must be with the Headmaster and Deputy only.”

“Everything about Hogwarts is a safety risk,” Harry said drily. “But you’re right. And what are the odds it would be Dumbledore?”

“None,” Ron agreed. “He’s too busy.”

“Naturally, as a hero and a philanthropist, they would want to remove Harry from the direct line of fire,” Hermione continued. “And as an orphan and a father…”

“They would want to remove me from other things that they think threaten me too,” Harry finished with understanding. “Like Hogwarts.”

“I don’t think it extends to just Hogwarts,” Hermione said softly. “It’s likely just a stepping stone to also remove you from –”

“Don’t say it,” Harry said through gritted teeth. “Just don’t.”

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione frowned, eyes glassy. “You know it’s different. Sirius may still be considered an escaped convict, but Stark and Wayne –”

“ – are muggles. They’re powerful in the muggle world , Hermione. They mean bloody nothing here.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Ron said slowly. “About ¾ of the Great Hall reacted when they said their names.”

“Obviously all the muggleborns and most halfbloods,” Harry rolled his eyes. “Purebloods, though? And their parents make up most of the seating powers in the Wizarding World.”

Ron averted his gaze in that obvious kind of way that said he knew something.

“Spit it out,” Hermione glared.

Ron folded easily. “Malfoy.”

“Malfoy?” It was Hermione’s turn to be incredulous. “Why would someone like Malfoy know Stark and Wayne?”

“You honestly don’t believe they got all their money from just the Wizarding World, do you?” Ron said distastefully. “Aunt Tessie always did say that there was no way they keep earning so much from just Magical businesses. Hypocritical bastards.”

“Muggle investments.” Hermione ran a hand through her wild hair. “That certainly makes a lot of sense. Stark Industries and Wayne Enterprises are two of the biggest companies in the world. There’s no way the Malfoys wouldn’t hear of them if they did dabble in the muggle world.”

Malfoy never mocked Harry for the accident in the hallway. Malfoy hadn’t thrown him any insults at all after that. And when he walked passed him during Potions… nothing.

“Malfoy hadn’t been targeting us recently,” Harry said in realization. “Have you noticed?”

Ron opened his mouth to deny it then promptly closed it, looking at the distance to probably review his memories. Then his jaw dropped and his face screwed up in a weird mix of confusion and disbelief.

“Yeah! He hasn’t!” Ron exclaimed. “Well except that one time where Hermione and I bumped into him for breakfast. Other than being a typical git, it wasn’t his usual… you know, it just wasn’t the usual.”

“It felt lacking,” Hermione agreed. “But back to the topic at hand.”

“Don’t make me hope,” Harry tried to sound angry but it came out more like a beg. “ Don’t .”

Hermione pursed her lips, clearly against it. She relented with a huff and pointedly looked away with crossed arms. Ron lightly bumped his shoulder with Harry’s. 

“You don’t have to get adopted, but wouldn’t it be nice to have some relatives who’d genuinely care about you?” He asked.

“What difference would it make?” Harry asked back heatedly. 

Ron stared at him again like how he did earlier before he had The Talk. Like Harry’s question physically pained him to the point he’d gone speechless.

Finally, in a quiet voice, he said, “I think it would make all the difference.”

Beside him, Hermione sniffed. Harry nearly snapped his neck to look at her. She was crying. Why was she crying? Hermione wiped at her eyes furiously before facing Harry. Her face had a hard time deciding between being livid and devastated. 

“Harry James Potter, you have no idea how much it hurts us the way you think so little of your happiness.”

Harry winced, moving to pull her into a hug. “Hermione… I’m not worth your tears.”

Hermione reeled back and hit his chest with closed fists. 

“That’s exactly the type of behavior that upsets us! Why do you – how could you think so little of… of yourself?” She cried. 

Harry couldn’t think of an answer.

That made Hermione wail and she threw herself in his arms again. Harry could do nothing but hold her close, his vision getting blurry with tears of his own. Ron encircled his arms around them both. 

“What did they do to you?” Ron’s voice cracked and he buried his face into Harry’s shoulder. 

Harry held them close and mourned the life he could have gotten – no. His life would always be insane no matter what happened or changed. Instead, he mourned over the boy he could have been if he hadn’t been sent to live with Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley Dursley. 

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

As they walked back to the castle, Ron and Hermione gripping each of Harry’s hands tightly, Harry took the time to think. Because, really, how bad would it be to have some relatives who do care about him? Even if it’s in their weird way? There’s not much harm in it. 

Other than the constant, painful reminder that he could live with someone and somewhere else.

But he already has that reminder every time he thinks of Sirius. What’s one more, right?

Besides, it would be interesting to get to know the two men. Now that Harry was no longer experiencing fury and shock at the Wand Weighing, he could recall and dissect Stark and Wayne’s words and actions. And they were very entertaining. He could still meet the other people they know even if they wouldn’t adopt him. Like the Avengers and Wayne’s kids, they seem like a pretty interesting lot too. That would be cool. Maybe summers wouldn’t be so bad if he can stay in contact with them. 

“Okay,” Harry said as they neared the entrance where a worried McGonagall was conversing with a panicked Stark and Wayne, Fred and George whispering to each other some feet away. 

“What do you mean ‘okay’?” Ron raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay to wha – Harry!”

Harry let go of their hands and surged forward before his courage could waver. Ron’s shout caught the three adults’ attention. Good, one less thing to worry about. He passed Fred and George who gave him identical encouraging grins and thumbs-ups. He smiled weakly at them and walked on. Harry couldn’t bear to meet their eyes so he kept his gaze resolutely to the ground. 

“Mr. Potter,” McGonagall started but didn’t seem to know what to say next. 

“I apologize for my outburst, Mr. Stark, Mr. Wayne,” Harry said sincerely. “It was rude and ungrateful, especially after everything you’ve done.”

Before they could say a thing, he continued. “I would like to stay in Hogwarts, it’s like my home. But I’d also like to stay in contact with you if you both would like that as well. If you don’t, I wouldn’t blame you. After our conversation and all that –”

“Harry,” Wayne’s voice was exasperated and Harry reddened. “Would you please look at us?”

As slowly as humanely possible, Harry raised his head to meet their gazes. They were both smiling down at him the way an adult would at a baby. Harry’s not sure how to feel about that.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Bruce said. “If anything, we should. We now realize it wasn’t the best course of action to take.”

“As much as we don’t like it, you did spend most of your time here for the past few years.” Tony sighed. “We didn’t stop to think about how suddenly pulling you away from your second home would make you feel.”

“And we’d love to keep in contact with you,” Bruce added brightly. “We were hoping to ask you about that.”

Tony frowned a bit. “Owls are too slow, no offense, and we live across the pond. We have to figure out a way around that.”

“How long will you be staying in England?” McGonagall asked. 

Bruce looked at her curiously. “Why do you ask?”  

“I can arrange for the three of you to meet up on the weekends,” McGonagall explained then peered at Harry over her spectacles. “That is if Mr. Potter can find a way to manage his studies and assignments on the weekdays only.”

With Quidditch and the tournament out of the picture, Harry has no doubt he can with a bit of self-control. Well, a lot of self-control.

“I’ll do my best,” he promised earnestly. 

“Then we’ll stay for as long as we can,” Stark promised too. “If not, we both can always hop on our jets to go and then hop on it to get back.”

"Sounds like a plan," Wayne grinned.

The casual mention of using their jets like it was just a car driven at short distances made Harry internally squirm with discomfort. He pushed it aside and focused on the warmth that spread in his chest that they were willing to do all of that just to meet with him. 

Together, they threatened convinced the minister into allowing it. Harry, against his conscious will, had hope.

He prayed it won’t backfire on him.

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Down in the Slytherin dungeons, Draco Malfoy dipped his quill into some ink and began to write. 

Father,

Potter's other guardians have arrived. Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne have successfully withdrawn him from the tournament. 

I wasn’t able to listen in on their private conversation after but, whatever it was, made Potter furious. As of writing this letter, they seemed to have eased up some of the tension and I caught word that the minister has allowed Potter to meet his guardians on the weekends. 

I understand that their identity complicates our plans. Though, if anything, this could be an advantage for us. I will slowly transition from neutral to cordial as I have no doubt you will expect me to now, though I still await your and mother’s input and advice.

I hope to hear from you soon. I would hate for another to make a move and get ahead of me.

Your son,

Draco.

Chapter Text

The twins were the ones who woke Harry up; it was the first bad sign. The common room chatter stopped when he appeared; it was the second. Neville shot him a sympathetic glance; it was the third. 

Whispers, mutters, mumbles, pointing, looking, staring – the whole package. Nothing new, of course. But this time, they were apologetic, curious, and jealous. Harry kept his gaze firmly ahead. Fred and George’s warning glares were so strong that people turned away. 

“Two-faced tossers,” Fred grumbled.

“The whole lot of them,” George agreed, scaring off two third-year girls from approaching. 

They were near the Great Hall when they noticed that students were getting out of it instead of getting in. They were all headed towards the Entrance Hall. 

Fred and George shared a glance, and Harry swore they had an entire conversation. Fred walked on ahead, maneuvering around the students while George slung an arm around Harry and led him aside. 

“Since when were you two my bodyguards?” Harry asked jokingly. 

George didn’t return the sentiment. “Since we got our heads out of our arses and realized the amount of danger you’re in.”

Harry frowned. “I’m out of the tournament, aren’t I?”

“And we still don’t know who put your name in, do we?”

“Oi, you two!” Fred called. 

Harry saw his mildly constipated face and knew he was doomed. 

He and George reluctantly followed Fred through the crowd that parted for them. Harry spotted Ron and Hermione at the doors facing –

A jet. 

It was a white jet with black and blue stripes. It’s got a pointy nose and everything, just like the ones from the shows Aunt Petunia always watched on the telly. They were usually owned by immensely wealthy men with black sunglasses and crisp suits.

Harry saw Stark and Wayne, in front of his two best friends, with black sunglasses and crisp suits, and started to turn around.

“Alright, I’m not feeling very well today. So I’ll just –”

“Harry!”

Narrowly stopping himself from curling up on the floor and screaming, Harry faced his two relatives with what he hoped was an okay smile.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark, Mr. Wayne.”

“We hope you don’t mind us picking you up this early,” Wayne said, taking off his sunglasses, and Harry’s sure he heard some girls swoon. 

“The weekend’s too short,” Stark added with a grin. “And there’s a lot of getting-to-know we gotta do.”

“Right.” 

He hesitantly walked forward and immediately felt exposed without having the twins on either side of him. People thankfully didn’t stop him but their eyes following his every move were somehow worse. Nearing the two men, Harry started to become very aware of the Dudley-oversized shirt and pants he was wearing. He’d look like a common beggar next to them.

“There goes our picnic plans,” commented Ron grumpily once Harry reached him. “I already picked a new spot and planned the menu.”

Harry tried to telepathically convey how apologetic and horrified he was by this turn of events. “M’sorry, Ron. I didn’t – I don’t –”

“I know.” Ron smiled understandingly. “Don’t think I didn’t see how you nearly made a run for it.” 

“Sod off,” Harry muttered. “Why’d they have to do… whatever the bloody hell this is supposed to be?”

Hermione glared disapprovingly at his choice of words while Ron chuckled wryly.

“If you want to think about it more while the entire school goggles, go ahead.”

“We’ll talk about it later, Harry.” Hermione pushed him towards Stark and Wayne who were already headed to the jet. “Don’t give them more reason to mortify you. Just go!”

Stumbling after them was like signing his insanity warrant. 

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

He had never felt so out of place in his entire life. 

Everything looked like they were worth more than at least fifty thousand pounds and Harry didn’t want to touch any of it. He would have gladly stayed standing if they didn’t insist on him sitting between them on a too-huge round table as they had breakfast. The food was delicious, don’t get Harry wrong. But he thought he would have enjoyed it more if he wasn’t eating it out of fine china that Aunt Petunia would have killed someone to own.  

He held the utensils as if they were going to combust at any second.

“So, Harry,” Stark started.

Oh no, not the small talk. 

“How would you like to be called, by the way? Is Harry fine?”

“Harry’s fine,” Harry replied. “But, uh, how should I call you?”

“First name basis,” Stark said as if it was obvious. “We’re distant cousins anyway.”

“Or you can call us uncle,” Wayne suggested, probably catching Harry’s discomfort at the thought of calling them both just Tony and Bruce.

Stark made a face. “That makes me sound old.”

“Your son calls you Mr. Stark.”

“No, he’s my intern and he’s as stubborn as vibranium. He doesn’t count.”

“Uncle Tony and Uncle Bruce,” Harry quietly tested it out. 

Not quietly enough because both men beamed at him. By beam, Uncle Bruce’s eyes and Uncle Tony’s brows were doing most of the expressing. Merlin, it felt weird to call them that way, even in his thoughts.

“Fine. I’ll make an exception for you, kid.”

“Where… are we going?” 

“Wherever you want to go,” Uncle Bruce replied.

What?

“But where are we headed?”

“Nowhere.” Uncle Tony went back to eating his eggs. “The jet’s just circling ‘till we figure out the plans for the day.”

What?

“Where do you want to go, Harry?” Uncle Bruce asked.

Harry’s mind blanked. Then he remembered yesterday and the Black Lake.

“A beach,” he blurted out before shrinking and hurriedly explaining, “I’ve never been to a beach but anywhere’s fine, really.”

Uncle Tony stared at him in that eerie sort of way Ron does.

“The press are already aware we’re here so we have to choose a more secluded spot,” Uncle Bruce whipped out his phone and started typing. “Preferably somewhere with a private resort too.”

“I didn’t bring my beach essentials, we have to stop over somewhere to shop.” Tony pulled out his own phone. “Jarvis, where’s the best and nearest place we can shop?”

“I thought we aren’t supposed to be seen much in public?” Harry would like to cry at the very thought of entering a mall sandwiched between these two. 

“Might I suggest, sir, to get the sirs’ measurements and shop online instead? And have it prepared for pick up at wherever is convenient?” 

“Sure, that’s better,” Tony said. “Oh! Harry, meet Jarvis, my A.I.”

“A.I.?” 

“Artificial Intelligence. A pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Potter.”

Wait, so that’s not his butler on the phone –

“Er, a pleasure to meet you too? Mr. Jarvis?”

“Jarvis will do, Mr. Potter,” the voice sounded amused.

“Only if you call me Harry,” Harry said cheekily. 

“Very well, Harry. I hope you don’t mind me taking your measurements.”

“Anything to avoid the crowds. Should I stand up and raise my arms or something?”

“Simply standing will do.”

Harry stood up a bit awkwardly as Uncle Tony pointed his phone and a fond smile at him. Uncle Bruce stood up next and let himself be scanned for measurements too before going back to his phone.

“What would you like to do at the beach?” Uncle Bruce peered up at him. “Maybe there are some specific things you want to do that can help narrow down my search.”

“You mean, like, other than swimming?”

Uncle Tony’s smile grew a little pained. “Private villa where we can get stuff like paraglides and jetskis and shit.”

Harry’s not exactly sure what those are but stayed silent in hopes of not offending them further than he probably already had. 

“Any preference for swimwear, Harry?” Jarvis asked.

“Er, just anything that works best, I suppose.”

Uncle Tony snorted. “If you wanted Jarvis to pick the best swimwear for you, then I should have let him scan your skin too.”

The scars and bruises on his skin suddenly felt blazing hot. 

“No!”

Uncle Tony leaned back and raised his hands, wide-eyed. Embarrassment surged through Harry, he felt Uncle Bruce’s concerned gaze on him too. 

“Just – just some standard swimming trunks and shirt is fine with me, I promise!” Harry’s voice rose the more he talked and he bit his tongue to prevent any more words from escaping. 

A stewardess entered, took one look at their tension, then promptly left. Uncle Bruce put down his phone and approached Harry with slow, deliberate steps. When he placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder, he made sure that it was in plain view the entire time. 

“Harry, chum, I’m sure Tony didn’t mean it in whatever way you thought it meant,” he said.

That snapped Uncle Tony out of his stupor and he stood up as well to put a hand on his opposite shoulder. 

“Kiddo, a skin scan, would just tell Jarvis how sensitive your skin is against heat and water,” he explained.  “He would only use that info to match you with the type of swimwear that fits what your skin needs. That’s all there is to it.”

“Oh.” 

Someone get him out of here, he didn’t think he could bear the mortification any longer. 

“We can browse some catalogs instead, of course,” Uncle Tony suggested. “What color do you think suits him best, Brucie?”

Uncle Bruce’s eyes grew sharp before literally scanning Harry from head to toe. “Green.”

Green .

Green like the killing spell that mercilessly ended his parents and countless others. Green like the Dark Mark that tainted the sky during the world cup.

Harry swallowed down his rising bile. 

“Like your eyes,” Uncle Bruce said. “They’re an exquisite shade of green.”

“It is,” Uncle Tony agreed with something like awe in his voice. “Never saw that shade of green on anyone. From your mom, Harry?”

That… That filled him with indescribable warmth. 

“Yeah,” Harry breathed. “Yeah. From mum.”

They both gave him a knowing look and a bit of his conversation with Ron and Hermione came back to him. Orphans. They were both orphans. That made three of them, now.

“Does –” Harry hesitated. 

Uncle Tony squeezed his shoulder with assurance. 

“It’s alright,” Uncle Bruce encouraged. “Go ahead.”

“Does it get easier?” Harry felt impossibly small. 

It was a bit weird to see them both sigh at the same time and look at each other with sad smiles. 

“No, it doesn’t,” Uncle Bruce said, brushing a bit of Harry’s hair away. “But you learn to cope with it.”

“And you have us now,” Uncle Tony added. “You can talk to us about it, okay?”

For a moment, Harry let himself truly believe in them. His chest hurt with how tight it was to stop himself from crying on the spot. How long has it been since someone other than his friends offered comfort like this? 

“Okay,” Harry finally said. “And, um, I don’t mind getting a skin scan.”

For today, for however long this trip lasts, he’ll let himself enjoy this dream. 

Uncle Tony and Uncle Bruce helped him shop for beach items. They bickered over petty things like what shade of black would best compliment whose hair and what designs fit whose ‘aesthetic’. 

“Hold on, I’m paying!”

“No, I am.”

“It’s my phone we’re ordering on, I’m paying!”

“That hardly matters. It’s your jet we’re using.”

“I thought you had a jet too?”

“He beat me in rock, paper, scissors.”

“Seriously?”

“It was a stroke of luck.”

“I beat you fair and square, grumpy old bat. And I bet you already paid for the resort.”

“...”

“Uncle Bruce!”

“It was on my phone, it was convenient.”

“Ha! Exactly! And because this is my phone, I get to pay for the shopping!”

“Uncle To – you know what? Just tell me my share of the costs, shopping and resort. I’ll pay you both back.”

“No.”

“No!”

“... Jarvis, how much –”

“Don’t you dare answer him, Jarvis!”

“... Uncle Bru – wha – don’t run! Give me your phone!”

Harry’s voice was hoarse and tired from all the arguing and laughing by lunch. When he started to drift off to sleep (because shopping, even online and with those two, is draining), he thought of the color green.

Green. Like the eyes of his mum.

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

The Hogwarts population grated on their nerves so Ron, Hermione, and the twins spent most of the day by the Black Lake. Hermione occasionally left to get a refill of their picnic baskets. She came back after picking up their lunch with a bunch of rolled-up papers clenched tightly in her hand. Hermione threw it on Ron’s lap and the twins crowded around him.

They gaped at the Daily Prophet.

HARRY POTTER WITHDRAWN FROM THE TRI-WIZARD TOURNAMENT BY AMERICAN MUGGLES

‘Not only are they American muggles, but notorious playboy billionaires! Yes, you read that right, dear readers!’

The article painted Stark, Wayne, and Harry in a very negative light. And nobody missed the implications on what Lily Potter’s relationship with the two men could be. Hermione turned green with disgust when she got to that part. If looks could set things on fire, Fred and George’s glares could have reduced the paper into ashes ages ago. 

‘Could this be the reason Harry Potter was never spotted before he arrived at Hogwarts? Was he whisked away into the arms of his mother’s –’

“Incendio.”

“Hermione!” Ron dropped the flaming papers and rushed backward. “You couldn’t have set it on fire after I wasn’t holding it?”

“That woman!” Hermione yelled shrilly. “Just wait ‘till I get my hands on her! Oh, the things I’ll do!”

Ron watched, torn between concern and pride, as Hermione furiously paced and muttered about snapping necks and cutting hands. Fred and George seemed to be in their own world, plotting in hushed one-word whispers and eyebrow raises. 

And so, Ron was the only person to notice Draco sodding Malfoy heading towards them. He was unsure what to do, recalling the lack of animosity recently. He decided to stay silent but kept a hand on his wand pocket in case of an attack. 

“She can be sued, you know,” Malfoy said blandly.

Hermione and the twins finally took notice of him.

“Who?” Hermione demanded.

“Rita Skeeter, the writer.” Draco’s face remained impassive. “With jabs like that, you think Stark and Wayne would let it slide? Or even Potter with those insults on his mother?”

Hermione’s face lit up with malicious glee. 

Merlin help Rita Skeeter. 

The twins stood and loomed at Malfoy threateningly, eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

“What’s in it for you, Malfoy?” 

“Looking for a share of the spotlight?” 

Malfoy only smirked. “More like offering my services.”

Their eyebrows all raised to their hairlines.

“I have a proposition.”

Chapter Text

Harry felt it right away when somebody picked him up and carried him off the jet. He was never fully asleep in the first place. He hadn’t been on a jet before, what if it crashed and he drowned because his dumb arse was asleep? He was sure it was Uncle Bruce who held him too, he could hear Uncle Tony talking to who he assumed was resort staff. He continued to fake his unconsciousness until he was settled down on something soft. Then three things attacked his senses.

A cool breeze, water splashing, and warm sun. 

Harry couldn’t take it anymore. He blinked his eyes open and was met with the sight of gorgeous, endless blue. He rolled off the – what is that, some kind of couch? – and stumbled forward, utterly transfixed. 

“Okay, kid.” Uncle Tony chuckled and gently held his shoulders to steer him back inside. “Let’s get you your swimwear and sunscreen before you walk off the plank.”

Harry took the opportunity to scan where he was. It was a fairly open, one-room kind of thing made mostly out of wood. What did Uncle Tony call it at the jet again? A veela? Is this the muggle world’s version of a veela? A one-room house thing in the middle of the ocean?

Uncle Bruce handed him a small package and led him to a little changing room. Harry’s not sure if his little smirk was because he found it funny that Harry nearly walked off the floating house thing or because he knew Harry was faking his sleep earlier. If it was the latter then Uncle Bruce thankfully said nothing. Harry changed into a deep green, rubbery, long-sleeved shirt and black, rubbery shorts. 

Huh. So this is what swimwear felt like. 

Cool.

Suddenly very excited, he exited the changing room with a grin and a hop to his steps. “Done! Can I go now?”

“Sunscreen,” Uncle Tony reminded, holding his package of clothes. “I’ve never actually applied on someone other than myself. Brucie?”

An already shirtless and swimming-shorts-clad Uncle Bruce appeared in Harry’s plane of view. Buzzing in his skin, Harry didn't bother asking how he got changed so fast and let him apply the sunscreen on him. He couldn’t help but notice the sheer amount of muscles. Does being a Billionaire-Playboy-Philanthropist include working out extensively? Doesn’t he have kids and a company? Where does he find the time?

“Alright.” Uncle Bruce finished rubbing at his face and stepped back. “Can you wait long enough for Tony to finish changing?”

“Depends.” Harry shifted his weight from one foot to another.

“You better wait! I still got an entire skin routine to do!”

“Uncle Tony!” Harry whined, very much ready to just run and jump. 

Uncle Tony emerged, laughing, also shirtless and wearing swimming shorts. He had muscle too. Seriously, Harry should ask Hermione about this. 

They walked down the wooden stairs together, Uncle Tony leading the way. Harry’s eyes stared at the beautiful, light blue as if in a trance. Uncle Bruce lightly nudged him from behind and he realized that he hadn’t taken the final step that would emerge his right foot in the water. 

“Harry?” 

Uncle Tony turned around to look at his frozen state. “It’s just water and a bunch of sand, kid. It’s not gonna hurt you.”

“There aren’t any sharks or anything, right?” It was a ridiculous thing to ask, but Harry just wanted to make sure because what if there were and – great, now he felt like a child –

“Not in these parts,” Uncle Bruce replied. “There isn’t even much fish.”

“And the sand will feel great on your feet.” Uncle Tony held out his hands and motioned for Harry to take hold of them. “Come on, it’s okay.”

After taking a few more deep breaths, he told his brain to shut up, held on to Uncle Tony, and jumped before his brain could comprehend what was happening. When it did, the first thing it comprehended was the loud splash. Then the warm water, then the sand, and –

“Bloody hell.” Harry curled his toes and watched as his feet start to get buried in the white sand. “This is… amazing!”

He took an experimental step forward, and then another. Until he was stomping and splashing around in the shallow water. 

Wait.

“Why is it so short?” He asked, noticing that the water only reached a bit below his knees. 

Uncle Bruce laughed. “It’ll get deeper as we go farther.” 

And go farther they did, Harry getting giddier the more submerged his body got. He took great pleasure in swirling his arms around and alternate splashing on both his Uncles. 

"Don't splash me back, I have glasses!" He quickly said when they made a move to take revenge.

Uncle Tony plucked his glasses from his face and Uncle Bruce made a big wave that got his fringes sticking on top of his eyes.

Harry made a show of clutching at his chest. "Wow. This betrayal. Such pain." 

"He gets the drama from your side, Tony."

Harry splashed them back until a full-on battle commenced and concluded with all of them soaking wet without even going under. He hadn't noticed that the water was level to his chest already and he couldn't quite stop the panic that surged through him. The most logical thing to do would be to slowly walk back to the shallower parts. But, you see, sometimes when faced with panic, your brain doesn't exactly function well.

So, naturally, Harry froze up. And, unfortunately for him, his two idiot uncles were bickering again.

"The sun's gonna be gone soon. We have to take him paragliding first."

"You don't have to rush, the day's been exciting for him as is. He even fell asleep after shopping."

"But we only have him for a few more hours!"

"We can do it tomorrow, there's still some time."

“But what about the cues? We’re going to have to do a lot of damage control –”

"Why don't we ask hi– Harry?"

Harry’s breaths came in short pants. They rushed to his side at once. 

"What is it?"

"What's wrong?"

"Jellyfish?"

"Urchin?"

"Talk to us, kid!"

"Deep," Harry croaked out.

"Deep what?"

"It's too deep."

"... Oh!"

"Do we grab him or like…?"

"Harry, chum, do you want us to carry you back or do you want us to guide you?"

As tempting as being carried again is, Harry was more appalled at the fact that they were asking what he wanted them to do. He was glad for the choice anyway, he probably would have fainted from pure embarrassment at being seen carried by the two. 

After a quick scan, Harry discovered that there weren't any other people around. 

Momentarily forgetting his panic, he scowled. "Did you buy out the entire bloody resort?" 

Uncle Bruce's smile was too sweet to be real. “Do you want to be carried or guided?”

"You rented out the entire fucking resort? You couldn't have said that earlier?" Uncle Tony sniped. 

"Would it have mattered?"

"Yes! I was thinking about how there were going to be people around and –"

Well, if nobody was around… 

"Can I be carried, please?" Harry asked quietly. 

Both of them melted.

"Of course, chum."

"Come here, kid."

"No, I'm carrying him."

"You already did it earlier, it's my turn!"

As a compromise, they ended up carrying Harry like a sack. Uncle Bruce held his hands and Uncle Tony held his feet. He wasn’t annoyed with them for long because the way they swung him was kind of fun. Harry did yell at them when they dropped him once they got to the shallows though. It started another splash battle and the sun was setting by the time they were finally inside the one-room house thing.

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Uncle Tony insisted on towel-drying Harry’s hair and he couldn’t find it in himself to be embarrassed, it felt nice. They gave him brown shorts of a really light material and an even lighter white button-down shirt. They felt comforting on his skin. Not to mention satisfying because they actually fit.

“What do you want for dinner, Harry?” Uncle Bruce asked, handing him a menu.

A menu with food Harry had never seen nor heard of before. Oh, look, chicken. Chicken… cordon blue?

“Er,” Harry squinted at the names. “Can you order for me? Whatever tastes good?”

“Alright,” Uncle Bruce took the menu again and scanned it. “Any allergies?”

“Uh, none that I know of.”

Uncle Tony’s hands paused momentarily. “When was the last time you got a check-up, kid?”

“At school or with a doctor?”

The hands that were once massaging his hair softly tightened. “A hospital.”

Harry couldn’t remember. And that was answer enough. 

He could feel Uncle Tony try to relax and saw Uncle Bruce turn around to hide whatever he was feeling or thinking. 

“We can arrange an appointment one of these days if you want,” Uncle Tony said, voice carefully neutral. “It’s to check if you have any hereditary diseases we should look out for, allergies you haven’t discovered, lingering untreated injuries…”

Lingering untreated injuries.

“Maybe not anytime soon?” Harry should get the majority of his injuries fixed before then. “I mean, I still have school.”

Uncle Tony hummed and finished off drying his hair. “Your hair’s a nest.”

“Can we do something about that?”

“I don’t see why not. I know someone.”

“Dinner will be here in about half an hour,” Uncle Bruce said. “Do you want to lie down and rest while we wait or sit out by the water?”

Again with the asking him what he wanted and letting him choose.

“Sitting by the water sounds nice,” Harry smiled at the thought of it. “Can we eat there too?”

“Candle-lit dinner at the beach, classic.” Uncle Tony helped him stand up, still tired from all the playing earlier. “Look at us checking off all the cliches.”

Uncle Bruce huffed out what was most likely a short laugh. “Should we go to an amusement park next?” 

An amusement park doesn’t sound so bad.

“By the look on Harry’s face, it’s a no,” Uncle Tony teased. 

Harry glared at him with no real heat. “Yes! It’s a yes!”

They sat on cushions and dipped their feet into the water, surrounded by comfortable silence. The sun sunk lower and lower into the horizon, and the sky was a magical swirl of oranges and pinks. But still dominantly blue, reflected by the water.

“I don’t see a lot of blue,” Harry admitted.

One of them hummed, encouraging him to continue.

“There’s the sky, obviously, but with the things that happen to me on the yearly…” Harry trailed off. “I don’t usually find the time to just lie down and stare at the sky.”

“I’ve only recently started to visit the Black Lake and it’s never this blue.” Harry reached down to dip his hand in the water, reminiscent of when he did the same thing at the lake. “Never this calming.”

“It’s fitting that you like blue,” Uncle Bruce said gently. 

“It is?”

“Color symbolism,” Uncle Tony piped up. “Blue means trust, loyalty, intuition, bravery, dedication, and a bunch of other things.”

“Blue also means honesty,” Uncle Bruce eyed him knowingly. 

“And freedom,” Uncle Tony added, lips twisting. 

Harry determinedly did not look at them both. “Don’t start.”

They relented. 

Harry appreciated that.

“You have very interesting friends.”

“Yes, how did you come to get close to them?”

And just like that, Harry spent the rest of the night talking non-stop about his friends. And he would have gone longer if he hadn’t gotten the idea to buy them some gifts as a thank you. He shopped with Jarvis’ help as they ate dinner, browsing holograms of various things he thought they would enjoy. The conversation ended up going to his so called ‘cousins’ once Harry mentioned the twins’ troublemaking tendencies.

“You told your kids about me?”

“He’s not my kid –”

“Tony, zip it. And no, we didn’t.”

“Then how?” Harry demanded. “You’ve only known about me for, what, a week?”

“Tim has access to my business accounts and he saw Dr. Granger’s email.”

“You have six kids.”

“They have a group chat and he spared no time in telling the rest.”

“Fair. How about you, Uncle Tony?”

“First of all, he’s not my kid, he’s my intern. Second of all, Happy told him because he wouldn’t stop pestering him about it.”

“Who’s Happy?”

Which opened the door to Get To Know The Rest Of His Crazy Extended Family. Happy’s apparently the not-so-happy chauffeur and bodyguard. Pepper was the true mastermind behind S.I. If Pepper was the reason Tony was still somewhat sane, Alfred was the reason Bruce was even alive. Harry laughed so hard when Tony revealed that Bruce didn’t even know what a carton of milk cost. 

“As if you know.” Uncle Bruce defended.

“Oh yeah?” Uncle Tony challenged. “... Jarvis, how much does a –”

Harry nearly fell into the water, howling.

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

“Will I meet your kids?” 

Dinner ended with lots of jabs and laughter. They retired back into the room where his uncles argued over letting him wear Iron Man or Batman pajamas. Harry, the eternal mediator, wore an Iron Man shirt and Batman joggers. 

“Only if you want to,” Uncle Tony answered, no longer denying how he really saw his intern .

“My kids can be a lot, so take your time in deciding when you want to meet them,” Uncle Bruce said, tone fond and exasperated, as he tucked Harry into bed.

He felt like a toddler, but he didn’t complain.

“What if they don’t like me?” Harry frowned. “What if they think I’m boring or they find out I do something that pisses them off to no end or –”

“You haven’t even met them yet,” Uncle Bruce cut him off.

“Stop overthinking it,” Uncle Tony ruffled his hair. “Go to sleep. We got a lot to do tomorrow before we bring you back to HogShit.”

The corners of Harry’s mouth twitched. “Hogwarts.”

“I said what I said.”

Uncle Bruce shook his head and smiled down at Harry. “Good night, chum.”

“Good night, Uncle Bruce. Good night, Uncle Tony.”

“Good night, kid.”

And Harry was out like a light. 

No blinding green or high-pitched screams haunted him that night. 

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

At the same time, Dumbledore reread the letter he just penned, lit by the sunlight pouring into his office.

‘Dear Sirius,

I am unsure if you’ve heard, but there has been a recent development regarding young Harry…’

Chapter Text

Ron and Hermione walked side by side down the path to the Black Lake where they saw a familiar jet land. They let the twins do Distraction Duty again and quickly left when they started pulling out handfuls of questionable-looking candy from their pockets. 

“Are we sure about this?” Ron asked as they neared the jet whose doors started to open. “Can we really trust him?”

“To answer both of your questions, I don’t know,” Hermione sighed. “But what I do know is that Harry needs to know.”

They stopped a good few feet away and watched Harry descend the stair with Stark and Wayne, grinning and seeming to be exchanging jokes with them. Ron’s shoulders, which he hadn’t noticed were tense, relaxed and a smile slipped into his face. Beside him, Hermione gasped quietly. 

“Ron, look at him,” she whispered excitedly.

“I am looking.”

It had only been less than two days but Harry looked different. He wasn’t as slouchy, his face not as dark and gaunt, his mouth no longer stuck in an eternal frown, and his eyes – previously downcast and haunted – were wide and glowing. 

“What did they do?” wondered Ron. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Ron! ‘Mione!” Harry exclaimed, throwing himself at them for a big hug. “I missed you!”

Ron and Hermione shared a brief, surprised look at that but hugged him back.  

“We missed you too, Harry.” Hermione grinned, pulling back to take a better look at him. 

“Where are the twins?” Harry asked.

“Poisoning the Hogwarts population,” Ron immediately answered.

Wayne stopped short from approaching them, with a mildly concerned look on his face. Stark didn’t even falter and raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him.

“They including the teachers too?”

“I fucking hope they are,” Ron grumbled under his breath, earning an elbow to the side from Hermione.

“They’re just pranks, they’re not lethal,” Hermione assured the two men. 

Ron coughed out something that suspiciously sounded like ‘yet’.

Harry laughed, loud and hard, surprising his friends yet again. “I’d love to see what they did. Oh! And before I forget –”

He rushed back into the jet, leaving his two friends and two relatives in awkward silence, then rushing back down with six shopping bags on each arm. Ron glanced, confused, at Hermione when a strangled squeal came out of her mouth. Harry dropped three bags in front of each of them and then put his hands on his hips like he just did a job well done.

“Mate… what are these, exactly?”

“I’m glad you asked, Mr. Weasley,” said Harry in an imitation of Lockhart. “These right here are tokens of my gratitude for all the trouble you both went through for my sake and all the other times you were pulled into it simply for being my friends.”

“Harry, that’s –” Hermione gulped, staring wide-eyed at a particular bag. “Those are so expensive! Why did you – you shouldn’t have – didn’t need to –”

“I wanted to,” asserted Harry. “You guys have done so much for me, you deserve these.”

“Wait, you went shopping?” Ron stepped back a little, already fearing the rising jealousy in his chest. “Mate, you know how I feel about –”

“They’re gifts, Ron,” Harry took hold of Ron’s hand and gently pulled him forward. “Gifts.”

Not charity went unsaid. Ron understood anyway and in his head, he repeated the words best mate, best friend until the ugly feeling of jealousy disappeared. He ignored Wayne’s stare.

“We should go inside before anybody else notices I’m back,” said Harry. “Can you give me a few moments to say my goodbyes?”

“Oh, of course!” Hermione replied, carefully gathering up the bags as if they were made up of glass and motioning for Ron to do the same. 

They watched from a farther distance, far enough to not hear what was being said but close enough to infer what they were talking about. Hilariously, to Ron and Hermione, Stark and Wayne looked more upset at being separated from Harry than Harry was. 

“Honestly, it’s as if Harry was the estranged uncle and they the eager nephews,” Hermione had remarked which threw Ron into a fit of snorts and chuckles.

They were even more amused when they could tell that Harry was trying his best to comfort them, judging by the way he was gesturing wildly with an exasperated face. After literally pushing them back into the jet, Harry finally managed to get them to leave. Ron was delirious with laughter when they spotted the two men flattening their faces against the windows and waving sadly at Harry. Hermione was red with the effort of staying upright.

They snuck up to the Astronomy Tower where the twins pounced on Harry and spun him around the room.

“Little Harrykins –”

“ – has finally returned –”

“ – to his very bored friends –”

“ – who missed him very much!”

“I missed you both too!” Harry laughed as he was passed from one twin to another in a sloppy recreation of a waltz. “And I brought gifts!”

Hermione gulped and looked at Ron, fiddling with her hands. 

“Don’t look at me, it’s your idea,” Ron glared.

“Fine,” Hermione groaned then took a few deep breaths. “Er, Harry? There’s something we need to tell you.”

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

“No.”

“But –”

“No.”

Harry was stony faced as Hermione explained Draco’s proposition. Aside from looking furious when they showed him the article by Skeeter, he remained quiet until Hermione asked him if he wanted to accept Malfoy ‘offering his services’. 

“You have to admit, Harry, that he does provide a tempting offer,” Hermione reasoned. “I dislike Mr. Malfoy as much as you do but he does have undeniable power that can help put that horrid woman in her place!”

“Why can’t Unc– Stark and Wayne do it without his help?” 

“Don’t see why we should trust Malfoy Senior and his wannabe junior at all,” said Fred with a frown.

George nodded. “They’re a slippery lot, who knows what reasons they’ve got to stick their stiff pureblood noses into this.”

“Knowing Malfoy, they probably caused this situation in the first place,” groused Harry. “I can’t trust them to have planned this purely out of the goodness of their hearts. There’s got to be a catch.”

Hermione huffed but didn’t argue. “Ron, help me”

Ron took too long to answer which made the twins look at him with shock.

“Ickle Ronnikins, you aren’t actually –”

“ – seriously thinking about this –”

“Are you?” Fred and George accused.

Ron gulped though he stood his ground. “Turn off your Harry Protectiveness for a quick moment and let’s talk.”

Fred and George closed their eyes. Harry raised his eyebrows.

“You’re actually serious.”

The twins held up a finger.

“Hush, Harrykins.”

“We’re turning off our Harry Protectiveness.”

“Oh, Merlin.”

“Good idea, Ron,” Hermione praised. “They don’t think clearly when their H.P. is on.”

Ron snickered. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“We are not calling it anything,” Harry crossed his arms.

“Our H.P. is off,” Fred declared.

“Carry on, Ron,” George encouraged. 

“I’m slightly regretting returning this early to see you,” said Harry with a slight pout. 

“Draco offered his and his father’s help to Harry with an obvious ulterior motive, so what?” Ron said quickly to get back on track. “I’d be more surprised if they offered purely because they wanted to help.”

“How about you repeat that first sentence,” Fred said.

“I know what I said,” replied Ron defensively. “My point is, it’s the best we can get from someone who’s actually in the Wizarding World to help Stark and Wayne.”

George gasped, mouth forming an o. “I see!”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Fred grinned unbelievingly.

“Malfoy presented it to us as a deal,” Ron shrugged, feeling a bit self-conscious. “So why don’t we approach it as a deal?”

“A business deal,” Hermione added. “Accepting his proposition thinking that it’s out of kindness will only land us in trouble down the line. Why don’t we think of it as a business deal, then? That’s what the Malfoys are good at, business and –”

“Politics,” George answered, grinning at both of them. “You two thought of this in advance, didn’t you? That’s quite impressive!”

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked, struggling to follow their conversation. “Why are the Malfoys the ‘best we can get from someone who’s actually in the Wizarding World’ to help my Uncles? What about Dumbledore?”

Ron, Hermione, and the twins looked at each other uneasily. 

“What?” Harry pressed. “What happened while I was gone?”

“We had free time,” answered Hermione. “And we hunted for answers.”

“We asked Cedric what happened,” clarified Ron. “During that night.”

“Okay and what did he tell you?”

“Well pretty much everything from an unbiased perspective –” Fred started. 

“How could you even say his name?” 

All eyes turned to George, fists shaking, and a stormy expression on his face.

“Forge…?” 

“He’s the reason for most of your pain. How could you even say his name? ” He thundered.

Fred pushed his twin back from advancing on Harry. “George! What’s gotten into you?”

“Voldemort is the reason of my pain, what’s Dumbledore got to do with it?” Harry yelled back at him, anger rising. 

“That was one night while you were a baby. He was supposed to be the one responsible for your childhood, your upbringing, your bloody fucking safety while in this Merlin-damned school!”

“And he has kept me safe!”

“Has he?” George challenged. “Have you felt completely safe in Hogwarts since your first few days before the cerberus incident, Harry? Have you?”

“That’s enough, George!” Fred pushed him harder. “That’s out of line!”

“How have you not thought about this yet?” George shouted, then looked at a shaken Ron and Hermione. “How have you two not connected this yet?”

“He wouldn’t,” Hermione protested. “He wouldn’t do that. He’s helped us so much, he’s our headmaster –”

“He wouldn’t what?” Harry looked between them, frustrated and confused. “Wouldn’t do what?”

“What are you on about, George?” Ron stood protectively in front of Harry and Hermione. 

George pinned Hermione with an icy stare. “Just because someone’s in a position of power doesn’t mean all actions and decisions were made for the good of the people they’re responsible for.”

Hermione fell silent. 

“George,” Fred held his brother’s face to look at him. “Walk me through your thoughts. Help me understand. Help us understand.”

“All muggleborns are automatically under the Hogwarts Headmaster’s magical guardianship when they start school,” Hermione was the one to explain, voice shaky yet clear. “And if they fall into trouble before that, the Headmaster is still their representative in any legal matters if their name was already on the list.”

“Harry has no other magical relatives and his only godparent was in prison,” George grabbed Fred’s shoulders and shook them. “What does that tell you?”

Fred’s face melted from confused shock to the same stormy expression Fred initially had. If possible, even stormier. 

Harry himself felt like the floor was removed from under him and he was free falling down to the ground. 

“No,” he shook his head, backing away from them. “No…”

“Bloody hell,” Ron croaked. 

A wall on the tower exploded into smithereens. Harry flinched violently and scurried backwards, losing sight of Ron and Hermione.

“Bastard!” Fred roared. “That blasted – bloody – fucking –”

It was George’s turn to restrain his twin. “Calm down, calm down –”

“Calm down? Calm dow – how can you say that to me?” Fred screamed.

“You’ll wreck the entire place and get us all expelled if you don’t bury us all in rubble. Now calm down!” George screamed back.

Ringing filled Harry’s ears. His vision blurred, his chest was suffocating itself, and he could focus on nothing but the door that led down the stairs. Somehow he was abale to get out of the tower and found himself staggering and stumbling to Dumbledore’s office. George and Hermione’s implications are loud in his mind. He did not entertain them. He had to know, he had to be sure. 

He had to know for sure.

“Harry?”

How did he get there so fast? How did he manage to even get there?

“Harry, my boy, what’s the matter?”

“How did I end up with the Dursleys, sir?” 

Dumbledore blinked down at him over his glasses. “I’m sure you’ve realized, Harry, that they were the only family you had left.”

“But they’re not.” How Harry managed to remain normal on the outside was a question to him as well. “I have Un– Mr. Stark and Mr. Wayne now.”

“Ah, yes.” Dumbledore gestured for Harry to take a seat. “This is a conversation I wanted to have with you for quite a few days now.”

“I’m in a bit of a hurry, Professor.”

I don’t think I can stand being so close to you with all these accusations.

“I just wanted to ask if I could move in with one of them.”

I just wanted to know if you’d let me escape the Dursleys.

“That… is a bit of a problem, my boy,” Dumbledore said carefully. “Mr. Stark and Mr. Wayne live quite far and have nobody magical to protect their homes from potential threats should you move in with either of them.”

“Then what about Sirius? Can’t we find a way to clear his name so I could move in with him?”

What about my godfather? An innocent man wrongfully imprisoned and still on the run?

“Clearing Sirius’ name is not an easy task –”

Harry didn’t listen to the other words he said. All he could think of were George and Hermione’s words. 

“Professor?” Everything in Harry protested to ask the question but he had to know . “Did you deliver me to the Dursleys?”

Dumbledore trailed off from his explanation that Harry hadn’t heard a word of then smiled genially. 

“I did, my boy!” he said with cheer. “I couldn’t very well leave you out in the open. I knew Lily’s sister would take care of you as she would of her own son.”

Numb. Everything in Harry went numb.

“Why?” he asked, voice barely above the quietest of whispers. 

“Why?” Dumbledore repeated, confused. “Because she’s your family, of course! She and her lovely husband has taken care of you since –”

Oh, of course. Because Petunia Dursley is family. Vernon Dursley is family. Dudley Dursley is family. They were family . So, obviously, they had to care about him.

Harry wanted to be livid the way George was. He wanted to scream the way Fred did. He wanted to cry like Hermione had. He wanted to be shocked like how Ron was.

But all he felt was numbness. 

“ – and they always will. Right, my boy?”

“Right,” Harry answered robotically. “I don’t know why I bothered to ask, professor.”

I don’t know why I bothered to clarify with you what should have been obvious from the start. George was right. How could I not have realized this?

“Sometimes we forget the love others have for us when faced with a new kind of love,” Dumbledore said in that wise-old-man voice of his. “I hope you never forget the love the Dursleys have for you, Harry. Even with Misters Stark and Wayne in the picture.”

Their love .

“Oh, don’t worry, professor,” Harry said as bile rose in his throat. “I’ll never forget.”

He turned on his heel and walked out of the room. As the door shut behind him, the lenses on his glasses cracked.

When he returned to the still wrecked Astronomy Tower, the words that came out his mouth were:

“What’s the plan?”

Chapter Text

"Is that...?"

"Veritaserum."

"How the bloody hell–"

"Oh! Is that why you wanted to borrow my cloak?"

"How are you so relaxed about this? She stole Veritaserum!"

"She also brewed polyjuice potions in an abandoned bathroom when we were twelve. Keep up."

"Hermione, you're fucking insane."

"Ron! Watch your language!"

"Are you bloody hearing this, Harry? She just stole Veritaserum and she's telling me to watch my fucking language!"

"Announce it for the whole school to know, why don't you."

"Sure." Ron turned around to face the empty hall, cupped his hands, and yelled. “Hermione Jean Granger is fucking insane!”

"Mr. Weasley!"

The three of them snapped their heads to their right and saw a flabbergasted Professor McGonagall.

"Oh, crap."

Harry grabbed Ron and Hermione’s hands and booked it. 

“Come on!” He hissed urgently, biting back cackles at the horror on Ron’s face. 

They sprinted and took sharp turns at random corners, running down multiple flights of stairs. They didn’t stop until Hermione tugged harshly at Harry’s hand.

“I can’t – no more – please,” she managed to say between huffs.

Harry skidded to a halt, tugging back Ron. With the sudden stop, he stumbled and latched onto Harry for support. Unfortunately, Harry hadn’t found his balance yet and ended up falling. Hermione cried out before she, too, was pulled with them and they all ended up in a pile on the ground. 

“Oomph!”

“Ow!”

“Ugh!”

They laid there, catching their breaths. Harry caught sight of Ron’s face, nearly as red as his hair, and started snickering. Ron glared and moved to shove at Harry but accidentally pulled on some of Hermione’s hair. She shrieked then whacked blindly at what she hoped to be some part of Ron. It ended up being Harry’s face. He yelped as his glasses were forced into a weird position. It was Ron’s turn to snort delightedly and Harry’s turn to move and try to get back at him. Except his hand ended up unintentionally tickling Hermione’s sides. 

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Draco Malfoy watched, perplexed, as the supposedly Golden Trio – currently a pile of limbs on the floor – laughed until legitimate tears were running down from their eyes. He cleared his throat to catch their attention but to no avail. He cleared it again, yet they still continued to laugh uproariously in the Slytherin Dungeons where anyone can walk in on them .

They’re lucky he’s the only Slytherin in these particular halls at this hour. 

Propriety be damned. Draco mentally apologized to his father; he can’t let these fools be seen as more foolish than they probably already are if they are to be his allies.

“Oi!” He yelled as loud as he possibly could in the very public setting. 

That caught Potter’s attention. It took some shoving, head jerking towards Draco’s direction, and helping each other up for their ugly laughing to die down. It took some more time for them to fix each other’s appearances. Granger fixed Potter’s – why are they broken? – glasses who in turn fixed Weasley’s hair. Weasley raised his hand, as if to fix Potter’s hair too, then made a face and dropped it. Granger, for some reason, giggled. Potter merely shrugged and faced Draco with atrociously horrid locks.

“Hullo, Malfoy.”

Sweet Merlin, he can’t even talk properly. 

“Good morning, Potter,” Draco replied, somewhat stiffly. “Granger, Weasley.”

“Good morning,” Granger said politely enough.

“Mornin’,” Weasley mumbled. 

“Am I correct to assume that you’re here to discuss the specifics of my proposition?”

Potter opened and closed his mouth like a gaping fish. “Yeah, we were planning to do that but not right now…?”

“What do you mean?” Draco asked. “Why else would you be in the Slytherin Dungeons?”

The three of them looked around as if they had just realized that.

Patience, patience, patience .

“Oh,” said Potter dumbly then just shrugged. “Might as well get it over it then.”

Draco withheld the urge to simply turn around and walk away from such a heavy abundance of sheer stupidity and ignorance. He reminded himself that this was crucial. 

“Alright, where should we have this conversation?”

They took him up to the Astronomy Tower. He protested at first when he sensed where they were going. He heard through the rumor mill about how an explosion of some sort happened there the previous day. The trio waved off his concerns.

It made him even more concerned. 

When they reached the end of the stairs and he spotted the Weasley Twins floating around rubble, he officially had serious doubts. They turned around in synch and immediately pinned their gazes on him. Their grins were sharp and their eyes were narrowed. It took everything in Draco not to shrink back.

“Oh, lookie! Gred, it’s Malfoy Junior!”

“I see it, Forge! Hullo there!”

There’s an edge to their cheery tone which, in Draco’s private opinion, put some of his father’s political acquaintances to shame.

Draco gulped. “Good morning.”

“Don’t mind us, just fixing a little mess!”

“We promise not to bother!”

And they proceeded to float a particularly large piece of rubble near him. Draco was no fool, he knew a threat when he was given one. And he’d heard rumors of how vicious the twins were to the students who were unlucky enough to be heard speaking nastily of Potter. So he nodded, if a bit shakily, and they were satisfied enough to turn back to their repairs. 

Draco caught Weasley throwing him a begrudgingly impressed look and he knew he had done something right. Whatever it was. 

Granger led him to a spot near the balcony overlooking the Black Lake. She pulled Weasley and Potter back to have a hushed conversation. As a show of respect, though it pained him not to eavesdrop, he turned and purposefully walked to the balcony to be out of hearing range. Draco settled on staring out to the horizon and desperately tried not to succumb to his thoughts. With every passing moment in which the trio made no indication that he could turn around, it got harder.

What if they changed their minds? What if this was all a trick? Maybe they lured him here to push him off the balcony to his death. They’re Dumbledore’s favorites, they surely could get away with murder –

“Malfoy.”

Draco sighed, mentally of course, and turned to face Potter. 

“I’m sure you understand that we can’t exactly trust your words alone.”

Fair.

“But we can with Veritaserum.”

Draco choked on his saliva and what little bit of propriety he was holding onto flew out the balcony. 

Coughing, he asked, “How in the name of Merlin did you get your hands on Veritaserum?”

Granger smiled, and there was no politeness or friendliness to it. 

“Better not ask,” Weasley said, looking everywhere but at her. “It’ll only be a drop and we’ll agree on limits before we do the actual questioning.”

“How will I be sure that you wouldn’t ask any more than our agreed list?” Draco pressed.

“That’s a risk on your part,” Potter said and there was a challenge in his eyes that Draco had only seen previously in their Quidditch matches. “Will you take it?”

And oh, he’s not sure if he should be impressed that his soon-to-be allies have some brain cells after all or be terrified out of his mind that their test required him to take Veritaserum . Potter’s damn right it’s a risk. To let himself be so vulnerable to them... 

“Scared, Malfoy?”

That shocked Draco out of worrying over the thousands of secrets he held. 

How can he back down from that?

“You wish.”

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Harry gave Ron and Hermione a look that screamed ‘I told you that would work’ as Malfoy pulled out parchment and a quill out of nowhere to start deciding the limitations. 

After a lot of arguing, negotiating, and Fred and George stepping in to act as mediators, they finally settled on five questions – one for each of them. By then, the air between the five of them was so tense that Harry actually thought Malfoy would just up and leave. He didn’t. Hermione was reluctantly impressed at his resolve.

The twins set up the strongest wards and silencing charms they could because everyone’s pretty sure what they’re doing is illegal.

As a gesture to show that they kind of appreciated his cooperation, they let Malfoy administer the drops. Hermione told him to take just one. Malfoy surprised them by taking two.

“Right, erm,” Harry floundered, still appalled at his boldness. “What’s your complete name?”

“Draco Lucius Malfoy,” Malfoy answered monotonously. 

“It’s working then,” Harry said lamely. “First question, Ron?”

Ron cleared his throat and asked, “If Harry agrees to it, what is the plan to ‘help’ him?”

“Prove Sirius Black’s innocence, have him secure Potter’s magical guardianship, spread word on the muggles’ treatment of him, have either Stark or Wayne secure Potter’s muggle guardianship –” Malfoy cut off and forcefully bit his lips. 

Ron frowned at that.

“That’s four steps you’re willing to share with us,” said Hermione diplomatically. “What are the specifics of those steps?”

“I am not aware of the specific details for I was only tasked to ally myself with Potter and act as a messenger, but I do know that my parents will be using their influence and connections to pull the strings in the Ministry.”

Hermione nodded, satisfied. They had all expected that answer. 

Fred asked next. “How will you deal with Dumbledore?”

Even with the influence of the potion, Draco’s face slightly twisted in displeasure.

“Father plans to arrange all information and any confrontations to be in public. We have no doubt that the old coot is not afraid to get his hands dirty. The solution would be to put him in the public’s eye and trap him between trying to keep Potter under his hold or keeping his meticulously crafted reputation pristine.”

“And you’ll do it with the Daily Prophet,” Fred chuckled darkly at Malfoy’s slight twitch. “We did the digging, Malfoy. Tell me, was Skeeter an old friend of your Auntie?”

Malfoy’s bottom lip bled. 

“That’s enough,” George softly scolded. “Why did you and your parents decide to offer this proposition?”

Malfoy took a bit longer to answer, probably carefully selecting his words.

“We are no stranger to the world of Muggle business –”

Ron and Fred fist-bumped.

“ – and my parents are confident that with Stark and Wayne in the picture, the odds will change.”

“To be in your favor?” Ron scoffed.

“Yes.”

“Oh,” said Hermione in realization. “ Oh . Because if your family publicly helps rescue Harry from his… home life, Harry and his guardians will owe you!”

“Is that what it is?” Fred asked.

“Yes,” Malfoy answered.

“And how will we be so sure that you and your parents will help Harry to the best of your abilities?” Ron crossed his arms.

Malfoy clenched his fists.

“You two already asked one question each!” Hermione exclaimed, irritated. 

“It’s a beneficial exchange,” Malfoy bit out through clenched teeth, unable to fight the potion without an immediate other question he could answer instead. “It would be foolish of us to give less than what is best if we want Potter and his guardians to do the same for us.”

“It’s my turn,” Harry declared, effectively shutting up whoever had something else to say. 

Harry stepped forward until he was the only one in front of Malfoy. He was breathing harsher now as if he was anxious of what Harry was going to ask him. He didn’t need to be. It’s simple, really.

“What’s in it for you?”

Malfoy’s whole body twitched. “As I’ve said, it’s a beneficial exchange –”

“That would benefit your parents’ social standing,” Harry interrupted. “You have been nothing but antagonistic to us for years. Surely, this whole ‘playing nice’ thing hurts your ego. Your parents could’ve found another way and you wouldn’t have had to go this far to be friendly with us.”

Malfoy tensed up, brows furrowed and forehead sweating.

“I’ll ask again, Malfoy,” Harry said slowly. “What’s in it for you?”

Malfoy visibly fought against the Veritaserum. 

Harry recalled a conversation from their huddle earlier.

“Malfoy has got to have some kind of mental defense mechanism,” Hermione whispered. “He’s got to. His family’s too political not to have one, he has to have some kind of thing to protect his family’s secrets.”

Ron’s face fell. “Will it hold up against a drop of Veritaserum?”

“I’ve read that Veritaserum is most effective if the drinker’s not aware but… with Malfoy already knowing and all…”

“It’s just a drop,” Harry said. “Besides, I don’t want him to spill all his secrets. Maybe his defense mechanism will help him hold off on the ones unrelated to our questions and all?”

Hermione thumbed the vial thoughtfully. “A drop should be enough to weaken it enough, I suppose.”

But the bloody idiot had taken two. Harry could tell that Malfoy was regretting that too. 

“I –” Malfoy grunted, clenching his fists so tight that his knuckles were already white. 

Guilt pooled in his stomach. Before Harry could say some other question to save Malfoy, though, he had already blurted out his answer.

“I don’t trust the Dark Lord to keep us safe!”

Malfoy panted, seemingly relieved it had finally got out but mortified that it got out in the first place. 

Everyone but Malfoy and Harry was stunned into silence.

“Why not?” 

Malfoy glared again at the obvious breach of their one-question-per-person agreement but answered, “He killed your father.”

… Okay? What’s that got to do with anything?

He must have said it out loud because Malfoy rolled his eyes. 

“Your father’s a pureblood and, sure he was a blood traitor, yet the Dark Lord got rid of him pretty easily, like all the others who got in his way. Not even a little bit of remorse,” Malfoy snapped then looked down, his voice growing quiet. “I don’t want to put our safety, our lives , in the hands of someone who has no problems ki– getting rid of people who so much as annoys him.”

They stood there for who knows how long before Harry held out his hand to Hermione. She wordlessly handed him a vial of the antidote, looking a bit disappointed that Harry knew she had it too. Harry smirked at her before uncorking the vial and giving it to Malfoy. 

“There are still some things we need to agree on… but I accept your proposition, Malfoy.”

Malfoy stared at him, stunned. Harry turned around to let him drink the antidote privately, as a show of trust,  and smiled reassuringly to his friends. They still looked a bit doubtful and Harry couldn’t blame them.

“Potter.”

Harry turned again and a pale hand was outstretched towards him.

“To an alliance?” 

Harry stared at Malfoy’s perfect posture, pressed uniform, and a blank face. He looked into Malfoy’s eyes – ah, there. Fear, uncertainty... and hope.

Harry shook the hand firmly. 

“To an alliance.”

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

“Did you hear? Apparently, Potter and Malfoy are on civil terms now.”

“Shove off! Are you serious?”

“Yeah! I heard from the fourth years at the dorm that they actually had small talk !”

“Merlin’s beard… Quick, look outside! Is the world finally ending?”

Minerva McGonagall listened as the two sets of footsteps disappeared down the hallway. The pair of gossipers was not the first she had heard talking about how Potter and Malfoy were now, mysteriously, cordial with each other. Not many people took it well, especially those from their respective houses. But it seems, to Minerva, that the two boys frankly didn’t care. 

With a twitch of her lips, she descended to Severus’ office, intent to tease him of this new development. Her lions (because of course Potter’s friends were included) and his snake were allies. Oh, the chaos .

And the headache this will bring to a certain old man.

Chapter Text

Dear Tony and Bruce,

We gained an ally of sorts. Writing it down on paper will take up too much parchment space, so it’s better to talk about it in person.

I’m really sorry I kept you from going home for so long. I hope you have fun being reunited with your families. Speaking of which, will I be meeting some of them next weekend? If you’ll be available for a meet-up, that is. No pressure, take your time! I’ve kept you from your families long enough.

Sincerely,

Harry

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

“Where is he?”

Bruce blinked at all five of his children sitting in the living room – not fighting, for once – and looking at him expectantly.

“Where’s who?” Bruce asked Dick.

“The new club member?” Jason crossed his arms. “Why do you think we’re all here? We’re ready to initiate him –”

Bruce was beyond confused now. “Harry?”

“I hope the trip did not compromise your comprehension, Father,” Damian narrowed his eyes at him. “There is only one black-haired orphan Timothy has informed us of. Is there another you came upon?”

Tim looked down at his phone. “I’m sure there was just one…”

Cass popped up silently beside Bruce. “New baby brother, where?”

“Didn’t I say I was coming home? As in alone ?” Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.

“No, sir,” came Alfred’s voice from behind him. “Your message said ‘ we ’re coming home’.”

“Tony,” Bruce muttered tiredly. “I meant Tony and I were coming home – to the states.”

A pause. 

Jason stood up and started to leave. “This was a waste of time.”

“Why not bring?” Cass frowned, catching Jason by the collar and pushing him back to land on top of Dick and Damian.

“Oomph!”

“Get off!”

“Yeah, B, why not?” Tim asked.

The corners of Alfred’s lips twitched downwards. “A shame. I had already prepared a room.”

“It’s complicated and –” Bruce paused. “Why did everyone expect me to come home with Harry?”

“You brought Jason home after he literally stole your tires,” Dick replied with a shrug. 

“It was a logical assumption,” Damian nodded.

Bruce sighed. “How much did you tell them, Tim?”

“Harry James Potter, very distant relative, stuck in a tournament he considered to be such a threat that he went as far as taking a DNA test and contacting you, practically doesn’t exist records-wise,” Tim listed off. “Oh, and looks like he wasn’t fed a proper meal his entire life.”

“To be clear, he’s not my son.”

“Not yet,” they said in unison but Bruce chose to ignore that.

“Right,” Bruce sat on a chair because he might as well be sitting for the discussion about to happen. “When I reached Dr. Granger’s clinic in Edinburgh…”

His children immediately leaned forward.

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

“Welco - oh!”

Tony stared at Peter who stared at him back.

“You have school today.”

“I do.”

“And you’re here.”

“I am.”

“...”

“... In my defense, I thought your distantly-related orphaned cousin was going to be with you and I wanted to welcome him.”

“And,” Tony gestured to the dozens of pizza boxes on the counter, “you bought the entire pizza menu for the occasion?”

Peter shifted sheepishly. “I don’t know what flavor he likes. Or if he even had pizza at all. Wait, that’s horrible! I read some of your files – don’t look at me like that, Jarvis let me – and he doesn’t look all too good. But I wanted to help him feel welcomed, y’know, and –”

“I get it, Pete,” Tony cut him off with an exasperated huff. “But I didn’t bring him with me.”

“What do you mean you didn’t bring him with you?”

Tony slowly turned to face a disappointed Pepper.

“Pep –”

“We arranged a room, shopped clothes, and everything. I also cleared up your schedule!”

“He’s not here?” Happy walked in with at least twelve shopping bags in both hands. “Why not?”

“There’s so much fucked up shit mixed into this mess!” Tony exclaimed, then sighed deeply while wiping a hand down his face. “It’s not damn easy.”

Peter, Pepper, and Happy exchanged looks. Happy slipped away to put the bags into Not-Yet-Harry’s room and Peter moved to slice the pizza. Pepper gently led Tony to a seat, rubbing his shoulders comfortingly.

“Why don’t you tell us what you know? Maybe we can help,” she said.

Tony stared at her for a few moments before slowly nodding. “Yeah, I can do that. Happy and Peter –”

“Know just as much as I do.” Pepper smiled. “I filled them in.”

Peter handed him a slice of pizza, looking very eager to hear Tony’s no doubt very long storytelling. 

“Don’t start without me!” yelled Happy’s voice from down the hall.

“Then hurry up!” Tony yelled back and was about to take a bite out of his pizza when his eyes widened. “You’ll never guess who I bumped into when I got to the clinic.”

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

“Tony? Tony Stark? As in your polar opposite?”

“I don’t think they’re that opposite.”

“Well, you do know what they say about opposites –”

“Will you kids listen or not?”

“Not a kid.”

“If you cease talking about the flamboyant excuse of a hero, we will.”

“... I’m telling him you said that.”

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

“Oh! How’s Bruce?”

“You know Bruce Wayne?”

“Yeah? We go way back.”

“They’re a nightmare together in one event.”

“Pep! I got more cars than him! And pissed off more business bastards!”

“That’s great, Tony. But let’s get back on topic.”

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

“Oh, no.”

“Ugh!”

“Magic? Really? How resistant is it to technology?”

“Mess.”

“Tt. I agree with Cassandra. This complicates things.”

“Thank you, Damian! This is exactly what I meant –”

“Jason, we must adjust our plans accordingly.”

“Bet their magic can’t fight off bombs.”

“What –”

“ No bombing –”

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

“Fuck’s sake.”

“Woah, Happy! There’s a kid in here!”

“Is it Mr. Loki’s kind of magic? Also, I’m a teen.”

“Still a kid. And no, they need Latin words and a stick to do the deeds.”

“Should I call Thor and asks for necessary adjustments to his room or something? Any additional things we need to know about magic?”

“That’s… hm, not a horrible idea.”

“Isn’t Mr. Loki the person we should be asking –”

“No.”

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Jason jumped up, eyes livid. “And you did nothing after all of that?”

“You should have brought him here the moment you exited that flat, Father!” Damian yelled. “The legal proceedings should have already started!”

Tim side-eyed him, fingers flying on a tablet he whipped out. “Look at you being protective of someone you haven’t met.”

“He is of my blood! I refuse to let him be treated like – what are you doing?”

“Starting the lawsuits.”

“B,” Dick murmured, looking heartbroken and distraught. “And you left him behind?”

“No! It’s just that –”

“I will get,” Cass announced determinedly, standing up. “Little brother home here now.”

“You are not flying to England, young lady,” said Bruce firmly. “I couldn’t bring him with me because it’s not that simple –”

“None of us were simple!” Jason motioned aggressively to him and his siblings.

“None of you were involved in the magical world,” Bruce pointed out.

Jason screamed in frustration before storming out.

“I will make sure Master Jason does not do anything reckless,” Alfred said then gave Bruce a pointed look. “But I expect to be filled in with the concrete plan that you will come up with to help the young lad after you have finished sharing everything you know.”

“There’s more?” Dick croaked. 

Bruce looked down, guilty of the stress that the rest of his ‘sharing’ will bring to his kids. “That’s just the tip of it.”

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Peter had gone deathly still. 

Happy went out to get some air while Pepper’s fingers were flying on her laptop.

“Peter.” Tony didn’t dare blink from their stare down.

“I know you have a reason for leaving him behind,” Peter said, deceptively soft. 

“I do,” Tony assured.

“Then it better be a fucking good one , Mr. Stark.” 

Tony’s eyebrows climbed.

“I’m sure it is, Peter,” Pepper said, glaring at Tony over her screen. “It has to be.”

“Listen to the rest of the story before you kill me, please.”

“What they did to him has got to be illegal, right?” Peter asked, opening his twenty-third pizza box. “Child neglect?”

“It’s downright child abuse,” Pepper frowned. “How thin was he last time you saw him, Tony?”

Tony looked away, taking in a shuddering breath. 

Peter clenched the box in his hand so hard that they crumbled. He tossed it to the side, no longer hungry. Pepper briefly closed her eyes before resuming work on her laptop.

Happy walked back in. 

“You wouldn’t have left him behind if you had something to do with it, right?” he asked, posture stiff as a metal beam. 

“Of course, I wouldn’t!” Tony exclaimed in frustration. “There’s just so many other fucking factors in this – I’m not even done telling you everything!”

“Everything?” Peter repeated in disbelief. “That wasn't everything?”

Tony took a few more deep breaths before asking Happy for the strongest bottle of alcohol. 

Pepper put her hands on her mouth and choked down a sound of horror.

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

“Domestic,” Jason spat, having returned a while ago after cooling down. “Has got to have started in whatever hell hole he was dumped into.”

Tim looked manic with his wide eyes and fast fingers. “The Dursleys live in number four, Privet Drive – sit your ass down, brat.” 

Damian scowled. “I did not stand.”

“You were about to.”

“Jason,” Dick warned, not looking away from staring at Tim’s tablet.

Cass pushed a halfway-standing Jason back into his seat. “We fight together. Stay.”

“Hell yeah!”

“No fighting anyone,” Bruce said tiredly, then whispered to himself, “Yet.”

“Neglect, abuse,” Tim hummed thoughtfully. “I’m willing to bet the Dursley son did some bullying too.”

“Physical violence,” Dick agreed. “It’ll be hard to check which injuries on him were inflicted from those… people or from the incidents.”

“We must sue the school,” Damian grumbled. “If it still counts as one.”

“Highest authority,” Cass chimed in.

“The Headmaster?”

“Oh, yes .”

“Hey!” Jason yelled from where Cass has him pinned down. “Pick a prison where we can visit .”

“We took him to a beach in our first weekend together,” said Bruce, desperate to distract them. 

His kids paused.

“A beach?” drawled Damian. “Why a beach?”

“He said he had never been to one.”

Bruce was met with silence. Okay, maybe not the best distraction.

“We took him to Bali. The beaches there are wonderful, we should go for a vacation sometime.”

“Bali?” Alfred asked, finally speaking up. “Did the paparazzi not see you, sir?”

“Oh, we used Tony’s jet to pick him up from school and get there,” Bruce smiled. “I rented out the entire resort so nobody else would be there.”

The silence was ringing. His children stared at him with varying levels of disbelief and judgement.

“Sir,” Alfred cleared his throat. “Perhaps you should confer with me first before you make any decisions regarding young Master Harry from now on.”

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Peter was legitimately crying . He also couldn’t decide between immensely sad and intensely angry. So, he was stuck in a weird situation of floating between both.

A frazzled Tony switched between comforting him in his sad outbursts where he curled up into a ball and calming him down in the angry ones where he looked seconds away from breaking a window and swinging across the ocean to get Harry.

In other words, Tony alternated between; 

“It’s going to be okay, Peter. It’s going to get better. We will make it better.”

and

“Peter, for the love of everything holy, please get off the glass.”

Pepper was another story all together. Crumpled-up tissues surrounded her little workplace, a new one appeared every other minute or so. She wiped and blew on one furiously yet still continued to work on a very long list that Tony thought better than read.

Happy finished about two bottles of alcohol already, face set on a pinched expression.

“Look, how about I tell you instead about our trip to the beach? Hm? We bonded there!” Tony said with fake cheer.

Pepper and Peter lit up. Happy was too far out of it to make a proper reaction.

“We picked him up at Hogshit on my private jet really early in the morning and –”

“You what?” Peter yelled.

“You what?” Pepper shrieked.

“You wha?” Happy slurred.

“I what?” Tony asked, confused.

“You picked him up… with your private jet…” Peter’s shoulders sank more and more. “In front of everyone at his school?”

“Yes…?”

Peter’s face scrunched up like he thought Tony was an intensely idiotic person. 

Pepper’s tears dried up fast. “You are not going back to that kid without me, Tony.”

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

“When are you seeing him again?”

“This weekend.”

Damian whipped his head to Tim. “I have a fieldtrip this Saturday.”

“Cancelled,” Tim said after a few taps. “Shit, the W.E. meetings.”

“I’m driving back to Bludhaven, my favorite shirts are there,” Dick said, jumping up and jogging out the room. “Wait for me. See you tomorrow!”

“I guess I’m picking up my things too,” Jason gruffed as Cass let him stand. “Try leaving without me, old man. I dare you.”

“I pack,” Cass said simply and glided out with Jason.

“I must make the necessary arrangements for my pets.” Damian rushed after them. 

Tim followed not long after, phone already on his ear. “I’ll reschedule the meetings.”

“I shall pack you new sets of clothing, sir,” Alfred told him, tone amused. “And a set for me.”

Bruce stayed sitting, resigned. 

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

“So what? You coming with me this weekend?”

“You’re seeing him again this weekend?” Peter jumped up and scrambled to find his phone. "There’s not much of a time difference, right? So our weekend is still their weekend?”

“Uh –”

“This meeting… not urgent. That one… unimportant. This… we can do that on Tuesday… What else…” Pepper trailed off.

“Wait –”

“I can do all my school work before then, tell Aunt May I’m going on an internship thing fieldtrip. Where exactly in England, Mr. Stark? Are we stopping by Edinburgh first or are we going straight to his school?”

“But –”

“I’ll – hng – handle the accommodations,” Happy said, pulling himself up and stumbling down the hallway. 

“I better start my homework now,” Peter haphazardly packed up his things and ran across the room. “Bye, Mr. Stark! Bye, Ms. Potts! Bye, Happy!”

“I’ll have everything adjusted and prepared tomorrow, Tony,” Pepper said absentmindedly, and walked off down the hallway still holding and typing on her laptop.

Tony put his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes in resignation.

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Harry dodged another hex. That was the seventh one this morning and he had just entered the Great Hall.

“What are they mad about me now?” He asked Ron and Hermione, irritated. 

“I dunno, mate. Was it because we invited Malfoy to our picnic yesterday? Or maybe because he helped you with Potions the day before?” Ron stroke an imaginary beard. 

“Or it could be because you told him good night after dinner?” Hermione played along with a small smile.

“Ah! Right you are, ‘Mione. It must be that!”

Irritation ebbing away, Harry snickered. “Or maybe because I looked at him for more than three seconds without exploding.”

They laughed loudly at that, uncaring of the mixture of resentment and suspicion from the other students. They sat down and started heaping food on their plates when the morning mail came in. Hedwig dropped two distinctly muggle envelopes on Harry. He smiled and opened them up eagerly.

Then promptly choked on his eggs.

“Mate!” Ron patted urgently on Harry’s back until his coughing receded.

“Harry? What is it?” Hermione asked.

Harry read the two letters in his hands and then read them both again. He made a vague sound, a cross between a groan and a squawk. 

“Their families want to meet me.”

Chapter Text

Harry was uneasy for the rest of the week after those letters. Sure, he offered to meet them but still! He couldn’t shake the worry about leaving a bad impression on his extended family. His friends, and even Malfoy , tried to distract him from or stop his overthinking. It sort of worked.

But then Friday came. 

Harry was the first to arrive at their breakfast spot by the Black Lake. He was unpacking the food when a smiling, muscular, black-haired, blue-eyed guy dressed in a muggle shirt and jeans plopped down in front of him. 

“Hi!”

“Wah!” Harry scrambled back.

“Oh, sorry for scaring you!” The stranger scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “I swear I didn’t mean to! ”

Harry looked around, trying to understand where the bloody hell he came from and how he hadn’t noticed. 

“Right, introductions! How rude of me.” Mr. Grayson shook his head dramatically and then held a hand out to Harry. “Dick Grayson. It’s great to finally meet you, Harry!”

And that’s how Harry met cousin number one.

“I hope you don’t mind me arriving here a bit early, I just couldn’t wait any longer!”

How did he even – never mind. Harry figured that he might as well make use of the opportunity. 

He took a deep breath to ease his anxiety and replied, “It’s okay! I’m glad to finally meet you too!”

Dick chatted with him as he helped with the picnic. He shared a bit about himself (gymnast and police officer, what an odd pairing) and asked Harry about his hobbies. He didn’t have many. Dick offered to help him try out different things though, which Harry thought was really sweet of him. 

“So, Dick… how did you –”

“Harry,” Dick interrupted him and winked. “Don’t question it. Just let us bond with you.”

They heard nearing footsteps and Harry spotted the unmistakable hair of Hermione. He turned to invite Dick to join them for breakfast. 

Dick was nowhere to be seen.

Hermione did her best to calm him down from the brief panic of possibly hallucinating all of what had happened. 

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Harry had convinced the twins to go on ahead of him to their picnic spot for lunch – the Astronomy Tower. A bad idea. He now had a limp courtesy of rolling out of the way of a hex and hurting his ankle in the process. Harry had just arrived at the foot of the stairs when a strong hand plucked him off the ground like he was a piece of paper and he was pulled into a chest that could have belonged to a wrestler.

“Really? You were gonna walk up those stairs with that fucking limp?”

Harry looked up and – blue eyes, black hair with a tuft of white, and muggle clothing.

Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “Why not? I’ve faced worse odds.”

Cousin number two drew back a little, surprised. Then he laughed.

“Name’s Jason.” He grinned. “You’ll fit right in with us, Harrison.”

“Harry. It’s just Harry.”

“Alright, Harold.” The easy grin morphed into something a little sharper. “Who gave you that limp, hm?”

Oh, Merlin .

Harry refused to give up the name because he didn’t actually have one. Jason’s lucky there were no other people around or Harry would have screamed bloody murder for being bridal carried all the way up to the tower. Harry obviously hadn’t given up without a fight but he’s nothing against someone with Jason’s build and he couldn’t reach his wand.

The red on his cheeks was because of righteous indignation. Not embarrassment, not at all.

Once Harry accepted that Jason wouldn’t let him go, they talked about interests. Jason was pretty scandalized that Harry doesn’t read much literature or listen to any kind of music and vowed to ‘introduce him to the cultures’ later on. They had a bit of a sarcasm battle too which Harry enjoyed very much. 

Jason put him down gently once they reached the top. And when Harry turned to thank him, he was gone.

“Don’t question it. Just let us bond with you.”

The twins found him standing just outside the door like a ghost and gently coaxed him into the tower.

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

It was a long day of classes and dealing with part of the school population’s hate. He and Malfoy agreed to meet up at an abandoned classroom on the seventh floor to discuss Sirius’ situation more. Harry braved the moving staircases slowly.

“Do these move on random?” A guy beside him asked.

Harry squinted as the stairs he was climbing started to move. “They move solely to mess up my already messed up life.”

The guy – Harry’s not sure what school he’s from – nodded solemnly, sipping on a cup. 

“But what if they did move on a specific pattern?”

“Why would you want to know?”

“Why not?” The guy raised an eyebrow at him. “Wouldn’t you want to know how to navigate these staircases?”

Harry was in dire need of a distraction, and maybe a bit curious. He eagerly followed Mr. Foreigner back down to the ground floor and they spent the next hour or so keeping track of staircase movements on ripped notebook papers. 

In between waiting for action, Mr. Foreigner asked about the different rooms of the castle. Harry suspected he was from one of the foreign schools and indulged him. He couldn’t help but slip in a few anecdotes here and there, especially about the Astronomy Tower and the Black Lake.

The challenge of catching which ones moved and rapidly writing down the directions was… fun. He swapped notes in the end with Mr. Foreigner and if they had different findings on some staircases, they observed again. The victorious yelling of ‘I told you so!’ always had Harry cackling no matter if he was in the right or not.

As it turned out, there really was a pattern to how the staircases moved.

Harry was so busy being in awe of that conclusion that he barely heard what Mr. Foreigner said.

“I’m Tim, by the way. This was really fun, Harry. Let’s figure out the duration next time.”

When it finally registered in Harry’s brain that he was another cousin, Tim was already gone.

Malfoy found him some minutes later, staring unblinkingly at the two sheets of ripped notebook paper – the only proof of Tim’s existence. He sighed and told him that they’ll talk on another day when Harry’s in his right mind .

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

That night, Harry didn’t feel like eating. 

Even his friends’ company didn’t settle right on his skin so he slipped away and sequestered himself into the farthest corner of the library. Besides, he had to do this week’s load before Saturday came around. It’s the thought of seeing his uncles again that motivated him to finish two essays. 

Halfway through his third, a plate of dinner appeared in his field of vision. 

His eyes traced the hand that pushed it to him and came face-to-face with (again) a blue-eyed, black-haired, muggle-clothes-wearing… girl? 

“I suppose you’re another of my cousins?” Harry asked, not in the mood to question how the bloody hell she was here.

“Cass.” She smiled a little then frowned. “You no dinner.”

Blinking past the slightly bizarre way she spoke, Harry shook his head. “I’m not really hungry.”

Cass tilted her head at him. She pulled another plate of food seemingly out of thin air and sat across him. 

“I hungry.”

“I’m pretty sure food isn’t allowed here, but I won’t tell?” Harry tried.

Cass wasn’t satisfied.

“I bring for you.” She pointed at his plate, at Harry, at her plate, then at herself. “Eat together.”

“But –”

Cass pouted. “ Together .”

Harry relented.

His stomach grumbled after the first bite as if it really was hungry all along. Cass smirked at him knowingly over her spoonful of mashed potatoes. They ate in a weirdly comfortable silence. When Cass left with their empty plates and returned with new ones filled with deserts, Harry didn’t question it. She watched him work, occasionally handing him treacle tarts or slices of fruits. Harry found that he didn’t mind her presence, she was… calm and soothing. 

Then Ron’s head popped up from behind a bookshelf. Harry froze while he was talking about curfews, trying to see from the corners of his eyes where Cass was.

She was no longer there and neither were any proof of food being eaten at the spot. 

Treacle tart crumbs on his parchment assured him that it was all real. A dazed Harry latched onto Ron as they went up to Gryffindor Tower to retire for the night.

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Even in the next morning, Harry hadn’t told any of his friends about the encounters with his cousins. He felt that they should be kept private somehow. They still thought he was nervous about today and they weren’t exactly wrong. He only met four out of the six cousins and zero of the three adults. Even if he already had met Dick, Jason, Tim, and Cass, what if he messed up later and they’d end up disliking him?

So, really, Harry had no problem listening to Hermione’s assurances, following Ron’s breathing exercises, and watching the twins make fools of themselves. 

In no time, they were headed down to Hogsmeade with Harry wearing a knitted emerald sweater and a pair of black jeans that actually fit him (bloody hell, they actually fit ). Once there, he asked his friends to let him go to the pick-up spot – at the edge of the village where no stores or people were around – alone. They fretted over him until he assured them that he just wanted to have some time alone with his thoughts for a while. They eventually let him go and Harry started his solo trek down Hogsmeade.

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

The Christmas decorations entertained him for a few minutes before his thoughts began spiraling again. 

What if his remaining two cousins hate him? What if the three adults decide that he’s not worth their attention? What if they convince Uncle Tony and Uncle Bruce to ignore him for the rest of his life? What if –

Someone slammed into his back and Harry started falling forward. Before the snow could hit his face, hands grabbed him by the waist and pulled him back.

“Oh, gosh! I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going!” 

Harry righted himself, not really affected by the near fall, and studied the guy. Brown hair and brown eyes. Therefore, Harry concluded, not a cousin. 

“It’s alright, you caught me anyway,” he assured the teen who still had apologies falling out of his mouth.

“Are you sure? You’re not hurt or anything? I’m not usually this clumsy – no, I kind of am. It’s probably worse ‘cause I’m pretty nervous right now, I’m about to meet the nephew of someone who’s really important to me –”

Aha! An opening. “You’re meeting family today too?” 

“Uh, I guess he can count as family? Wait, ‘too’? You’re meeting family too?”

“Yeah! I’m also pretty nervous.”

“Why is there so much anxiety about meeting new relatives?”

“I know!”

They chatted as they walked, Harry no longer overthinking. They jumped from one random topic to the next. The conversation carried on from snakes to teachers who shouldn’t be teaching and bullshit educational systems until they reached the edge of the village.

“Where are you meeting your relatives?” The guy asked.

Oh, right. That.

“They said they’d pick me up here.”

“We can wait together! I’m supposed to be on the lookout for that important person’s nephew.”

“Sure!”

They stood there together for a while and then –

“Wait –”

“Hold on –”

“You…?”

“Are you…?”

The stranger squinted at him. “... Harry Potter?”

Harry squinted at him as well. “...Uncle Tony’s not-son?”

A jet materialized beside them like it was camouflaged this whole time. Uncle Tony opened the hatch door thing and waved at them as the stairs unfolded.

“There you are, kid! And you met Peter!”

Harry and Peter looked at each other and dissolved into laughter.

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

It took a while for them to board the jet without erupting into giggles and being unable to move for the next fifteen seconds. Once there, Uncle Tony, Uncle Bruce, and his children just looked at them with amusement. Except for the littlest one who looked vaguely irritated.  

“Harry, I’d like you to meet my children –”

“Is your limp gone?” Jason asked.

“Er, yeah,” answered Harry. “My friends took me to the infirmary.”

Dick, Tim, and Cass were on him in an instant.

“You were hurt?”

“I didn’t notice you were limping!”

Cass prodded at his ankles.

“Don’t worry, Dick, it’s healed. And it was before we met, Tim – Cass, that tickles!”

“You’ve met.” Uncle Bruce accused Jason who just shrugged at him. “You’ve all met!”

“We couldn’t wait,” Dick said, all the explanation he had to offer.

“And we knew how to find the castle so…” Tim trailed off.

“How did you get past –”

Cass blocked Uncle Bruce from advancing on his sons and pouted. “No blame. Excited. Wanted to meet him a lot.”

Uncle Bruce’s face did a weird thing where it couldn’t decide on what to be. Before it settled on exasperated resignation.

“What’s done is done.”

“This is unacceptable, father!” The cousin he had yet to be introduced to complained. “They met him before I could!”

“You can meet him now. Harry, this my youngest, Damian.”

Damian scowled at his siblings. “How dare you.”

“You were still in school, brat. Were we supposed to kidnap you?”

“I could have faked chicken pox!”

Peter looked at Harry as if to ask ‘How do you fake chicken pox?’

Damian made some sort of clicking noise and approached Harry with an air that reminded him of Malfoy. His hands were behind a ramrod straight back, his chin tilted up, and his lips pressed on a firm line. 

“Harry James Potter, I am your only blood cousin and as such, the duty to teach you the proper procedures of laying waste to your enemies befalls on me. Rest assured, it is a responsibility I am willing to oblige.”

“Er, you don’t really need to do that,” Harry said slowly, nervous that he might have offended him.

Damian looked contemplative. “I suppose that you do not possess the training necessary to dispose of bodies in an efficient manner. Very well, I shall do it myself as a welcoming gift. Shall I include your filthy excuses of relati–”

Uncle Bruce covered Damian’s mouth and gave a forced laugh. 

“He’s only joking, chum.”

“I am not – mmf!”

Uncle Tony saved him from having to think of an appropriate reaction to that by motioning him over to a seat. Harry walked to it, determinedly ignoring Dick lecturing Damian about how he shouldn’t offer up murder as a welcoming gift to a cousin. 

“I thought I was also meeting Pepper, Happy, and Alfred.” Harry fidgeted.

“They’re preparing the house we rented.”

“... You rented a house?”

“There’s a lot of us,” Uncle Tony defended. “The sweater looks great on you.”

Harry reddened. “Thanks.”

Peter dropped down beside him and leaned over.

“So,” he drawled. “Any particular things you wanna do with me and the kinda-scary-sneaky bunch over there?”

“Nothing, really,” Harry replied. “As long as I get to hang out with you all, it’s enough for me.”

Silence.

Then Harry’s face was squished by at least two pairs of hands and he was being cooed over by Merlin-knows-how-many voices. 

Why does he get the feeling that it’s only going to go downhill from here?

Chapter Text

“Hello, everyone,” Dick greeted. “We gather here today for the first-ever gathering of the Council of Concerned Cousins.”

They were all in the outdoor area of the penthouse Tony and Bruce rented. A circular table with various snacks laid out on it sat in the center of the members of the CoCC – Dick, Jason, Cass, Tim, Peter, and Damian – who all looked as somber as Dick sounded.

“Per the rules of age, I assume the role of Cousin Senior and I shall oversee today’s meeting.” Dick pulled out some papers and put on fake glasses he bought just for the occasion. “First order of business is the Initial Assumptions.”

Peter jumped up to hand a folder of papers to Dick with a flourish.

“As the first one to encounter the CoC – Cousin of Concern – I present to you my Initial Assumptions.”

Dick opened the folder and put on glasses without lenses. He cleared his throat. 

“CoC was either isolated or given too many chores to the point that he was deprived of a normal childhood experience.”

═══════════════════

“I did gymnastics since I was a kid, I performed in a circus,” Dick said as he unpacked a plate of apple slices from the never-ending picnic basket. “I’ve tried other things, of course, but I love it best. Still do it today.”

“While being a police officer?” Harry asked, eyes wide.

“I don’t perform anymore but I do find the time to practice every once in a while.”

Nightly.

“How about you? Is there something you really love doing?”

“Um,” Harry stalled. “I haven’t found something like that yet.”

“That’s okay, you’re still young. Maybe you’ll find it at a later time,” said Dick, unbothered. “What are things you’ve tried?”

Harry took a bit too long to answer. “I guess I can tolerate gardening if it’s not too hot out or there aren’t many thorns. Cooking too if I like the dish.”

Domestic , Dick noted. Not exactly a bad thing.

Though considering the context of his home life, it could be.

“Anything else?”

Harry shrugged. Dick was bothered now.

“What about drawing? Singing? Sports?”

Harry brightened up at that last one. “Oh, I love flying!”

That made two of them.

Dick listened to him happily explaining Quidditch until he had to slink away to avoid his friend. The sinking feeling in his gut sank lower the farther away he walked.

═══════════════════

Dick pulled Harry into his room, excited and determined to help him find new hobbies. They had to be quick about it because of the time limit (the other cousins would strangle him if he messed up their own allotted hours for Harry) and there were so many things he wanted his baby-cousin-probably-new-brother to try out.

Harry looked very overwhelmed at the items Dick had laid out on his bed and – okay, maybe he had gone a bit overboard with the shopping –

“Is… is that a sword?”

– but it was Bruce’s credit card so it’s fine and he wanted to give Harry as many options as he could get.

Dick sheepishly explained how he wanted Harry to try out all possible things Dick could get his hands on because he wasn’t sure what hobby he might end up leaning to. Harry looked so astonished and grateful but confused and wary –

The Dursley-respect-o-meter plummeted down to the negatives.

═══════════════════

“I’m happy to report that he enjoys the calmness of drawing,” Dick smiled proudly. “He prefers to doodle for now but he did express interest in continuing this hobby.”

Damian perked up from his seat. “I shall gift him the finest supplies.”

“Thank you, Dami.”

Damian preened.

“Jason?” Dick bowed. “Take the floor.”

Jason stood up and bowed even lower. “My pleasure.”

The folder and lens-less glasses exchanged hands. Dick took Jason’s seat.

“CoC has repeatedly put up with physical injuries, both minor and major.”

═══════════════════

Jason followed from afar. He had seen who cast a spell at Harry that inadvertently caused his injury. The little rascal ran for it before Jason could go after him and he was more concerned with Harry.

Harry. Who wasn’t even the least bothered and just continued on his way with a very slight, unnoticeable-unless-you-stared-for-half-a-minute limp.

Jason committed the perpetrator’s face to memory right before red flags, alarms, and sirens went off in his head. It pained him to not be able to swoop down and cradle the kid that very instant, McGonagall made it very clear that they were not to be seen. Harry was unfortunately walking down a hall with other students. After some agonizing minutes wherein Jason winced every time Harry stopped on his bad foot, Harry ended up at the foot of deserted staircases.

Jason swooped in and noted that the ankle had started to swell. When he carried Harry, he weighed nothing. Jason was aware of his strength and carrying Harry felt like carrying a toddler no older than ten. It felt like carrying Damian and Harry was fourteen already .

Harry predictably didn’t give up the rascal’s name (Jason doubted he saw who it was anyway). Jason instead asked about his interests, more for his own benefit to calm down than anything.

Harry had basically nothing –

═══════════════════

“He’s fourteen and just met you,” Tim pointed out. “Maybe he just didn’t want to share?”

“No, Tim, you don’t understand,” Jason stressed. “I asked him about bands, books, and movies that teens his age might know. He didn’t recognize any of them!”

“Again, he’s a teenager and you’re a stranger –”

“He doesn’t even know ABBA!”

If a single strand of hair dropped, they would have heard it.

"Not even...?" Peter trailed off.

Jason shook his head and clutched at his chest. His face scrunched up like he was in intense pain.

"Not even Dancing Queen."

A horrified gasp left Dick's mouth. Peter threw his body at him and wailed.

Tim shared a flat look with Damian. Cass giggled.

═══════════════════

Naturally, Jason’s allotted time with Harry was spent introducing him to dozens of songs, books, and movies. He waited outside Dick’s room five minutes before Dick’s time even finished and made quick work of transporting Harry to his room once it was. They obviously couldn’t go through all the media due to the little time. Jason went as far as planning a timetable for all the important ones he just had to show Harry.

They went with books first, Jason presented Harry with a PowerPoint of their blurbs. Next, the movies. Jason compiled together a playlist of trailers and let Harry write down what he wanted to watch. Music went last because Jason let each one blast through the speakers.

To his delight, Harry regarded every single one with complete seriousness. Jason knew he still complimented the pieces he obviously had no interest in. But when Harry found something he liked? 

The sight of sparkling green eyes and a lopsided grin was committed to Jason’s memory.

═══════════════════

“Consider him educated,” Jason smirked.

Five faces stared back at him expectantly. Jason raised an eyebrow at them.

“I’m not telling you! Ask him yourself next time we see him.”

A few groans and complaints but they let it go.

“Timbo, take the wheel.” Jason pulled out a red and yellow steering wheel from under the table with the biggest shit-eating grin.

Tim looked at the wheel, at Jason, back at the wheel, then took it with a resigned sigh. He refused to wear the fake glasses. 

Jason took Tim’s seat, quietly laughing with Dick and Peter.

“And they’re supposed to be older than me,” Tim grumbled to himself before slipping into Serious Mode.

“CoC has the humor we expected of a teen who went through what he did and is also a keen observer.”

═══════════════════

Honestly? Tim was surprised Harry just went with it. Did it work in Tim’s favor? Yes. Was it a weird, impulsive, questionable decision on Harry’s part anyway? Also yes. 

Tim took note of that.

He already memorized the staircase movements earlier in the day. He just needed an excuse for Harry to be occupied while he subtly dug around for more details of his school life. And it was an experience .

“There used to be a three-headed dog on the third floor.”

“... Cool.” 

“Did anyone tell you about the giant squid in the Black Lake?”

“... No.” And God forbid anyone tells Damian about that.

“The hallways are big enough to fit a troll.”

“... That’s… neat.”

He talked about these concerning anecdotes like they were funny or a mild inconvenience or whatever. Worse, he sounded nostalgic .

So, as Tim said, an experience . He rated it a 2/10, don’t recommend. Unless you’re an apathetic, heartless, kind of bastard with no regard for children’s safety.

Which said a lot about the staff in charge of the school.

On a brighter note, Harry was pretty observant. Not vigilante-level, but enough that Tim was impressed at his skill. Harry’s eyes were quick to catch even the smallest of movements and simultaneously scribbling down notes on his paper. 

On a less than brighter note, he flinched a lot. Whenever Tim talked a bit too loudly or interrupted Harry when he was in deep focus.

And Tim took note of those too.

═══════════════════

“Have you tried playing tennis?”

Tim knew Dick and Jason spent their time getting to know Harry and helping him discover new things. Tim was more interested in getting to know him through testing him. There was an indoor tennis court just across the street where Tim practically carried Harry into the moment he finished with Jason.

Tennis involved keeping track of a small ball, utilized hand-eye coordination, and can be played by two people. It was like their staircase-watching but more active. Its uniform consisted of a short-sleeved shirt and shorts – barely enough to cover old scars. 

Harry didn’t seem to notice despite his observation skills, likely too caught up with the day’s excitement to care.

Tim mentally cataloged every visible scar.

After a quick rundown of the rules and some trials to let Harry get used to the racket and the weight of the tennis ball, they started. Tim couldn’t keep the satisfied grin off his face the entire time.

═══════════════════

“He’s light on his feet, quick to react, and knows how to control his swing,” Tim reported, lips slightly quirking. “It was a fun game.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’.” Dick raised an eyebrow.

“But how he developed those skills of his is up for debate.”

“We know that he didn’t play many sports except that Qui-something he loves so much,” Jason mused. “Which he should’ve only started after he enrolled in the school.”

“It’s unlikely he developed such skills to a level that Timothy would be impressed by in such a short time,” Damian added. “Considering the numerous… misadventures and his school work, the development must have started beforehand.”

“I’m just glad that, despite what happened for him to develop those, he has no problems using it for fun.” Dick shrugged.

“Wait,” Peter perked up. “He has a cousin at home, right?” 

Tim tilted his head at him. “Yeah?”

“We had this debate at school and – like, kids tend to follow what they see from the people around them, y’know? So, like, let’s say Harry’s aunt and uncle are openly – uh – antagonistic to him.” Peter worried his lip. “If his cousin saw that on the daily, then…”

Oh. 

Their heavy silence was broken by Cass who stood up for her tern and gently nudged Tim to her seat. 

“Me next,” she said. “Little cousin not take care of self. Forget. Avoid. Not sure.”

═══════════════════

There were three words Cass could describe Harry as she tailed him that night. 

Guarded . 

He wouldn’t look anyone in the eye, even if they were looking at him and talking about him. He kept his head down the entire journey to big, heavy doors. The little cousin didn’t look up once until he reached a very secluded spot at the library. 

Hopeful .

He wrote long things on long papers non-stop. He would have a little smile every once in a while and chuckle as if he was a funny thought. Like he was looking forward to something.

Sad . 

He frowned more than he smiled. Pausing in his writing to scratch what he wrote and start over, probably distracted. Cass heard his tummy grumble more than twice. He didn’t hear or he didn’t care. After the third grumble, she slipped out of her hiding place from afar to find food when a small, funny-looking, pale Mickey Mouse appeared in front of her.

“Is you a friend of Harry Potter?” Mickey Mouse asked her.

“Family,” Cass replied. “I, Cass.”

“I, Dobby,” Dobby clapped his little hands silently. “Such an honor to meet Harry Potter’s family!”

Hm.

“Harry Potter not eat dinner yet,” Cass said.

Dobby gasped and exclaimed some things Cass couldn’t quite catch before he disappeared in a soft pop and returned with a plate full of food. Cass smiled toothily as it was passed to her. 

“Has you eaten too, Ms. Potter?” Dobby asked.

“Not Potter, and no.”

Two more soft pops later and a second plate of food was handed to her. 

Hm . Alfred would like Dobby.

═══════════════════

Her time with Harry was spent tasting various kinds and styles of food, some of which she helped Alfred cook and most of which they just ordered. Harry had sputtered at the big amount of food at first.

“Try all, find favorite,” Cass told him. 

Alfred had prepared the food in little sample plates with labels of their name, origin, and ingredients. Cass borrowed a notebook from Bruce where she wrote down Harry’s favorites (and some of her own). They made a little game of covering the labels and trying to guess the names, making up wacky words and throwing in terms that shouldn’t be referring to food at all. 

Cass called the Lobster a l'Americaine a ‘red pinchy turtle soup’ and Harry laughed so hard, his mango shake spurted out of his nose.  

═══════════════════

“We took some food for dinner,” Cass said. “Rest, we give to orphanages and shelters.”

The boys clapped. 

“That was really nice, Cass.”

“Woo!”

“It was a great idea!”

“Must’ve been fun too.”

“Someone find that list. I need that list.”

Dick stood up as Cass bowed then slid gracefully into his seat. 

“That was what happened on our first day with him, as well as how the first four spent the Saturday with him,” Dick said as he put on the lens-less glasses. “Let’s take a short break to write down our thoughts, hypotheses, suspicions –”

“And eat snacks!” Peter interrupted, already opening one of the many packs of junk food on the table.

“That too.” Dick swiped a pack of cookies that Jason was reaching for.

“Hey!”

“We’ll proceed with the reports of Peter and Damian in half an hour.”

═══════════════════

“What the hell are they doing?” Tony asked in amused horror, sneaking a look at the kids behind a glass window from the second floor. 

Bruce grunted, not bothering to look up from his paperwork. “Is anything on fire?”

The kids were bent over papers, scribbling furiously as they nibbled on snacks. In big, capital letters on the PowerPoint presentation were; 

COUNCIL OF CONCERNED COUSINS

FIRST EVER MEETING

EVER

“No?”

“Then don’t bother them.”

Chapter Text

With everyone’s bellies full and several pages of written-out thoughts gathered in front of each, their meeting resumed. Peter put on the lens-less glasses and made a show of arranging his papers. 

“I hope you don't mind me leaving out some things.”

═══════════════════

Out of all the cousins, Peter was probably closest to Harry in terms of relatability. By relatability, he meant that they were both once-normal teens in school who occasionally encountered near-death experiences and had to do some heroic work. 

Peter suspected there was one easy way of getting Harry to open up without even knowing. Pull him into a pretty low brain cell activity, get him to relax, and read between the jokes. 

“What is all of this?” Harry asked, looking around at the makeshift workshop in awe.

“This is stuff that’ll – uh – hopefully be enough to make you a phone that works in your school.”

Dick had mentioned how his phone literally died once he got in contact with the school wards and it horrified Peter. How were they going to have late-night chats with Harry and send him memes or video call him for pointless reasons?

“It needs to be compatible with your magic at least and –”

“I can’t use it out of school, I almost got expelled that one time I ‘did’.”

“Nah, Ms. Minnie said she had it covered.”

Harry had looked at him weird. “Ms. Minnie ?”

As a certified 21st Century Stressed Teen, Peter could multi-task pretty well. Example;

“Did you notice that our last names kind of match and make sense? Turn on your magic.”

“Lumos,” Harry said, the tip of his wand lighting up a bit. “And what do you mean?”

StarkPhone number 7 stayed on but its screen started blinking rapidly. It eventually died after about 11 seconds. 

“Hmm, okay that had a bigger battery than the fourth one so maybe… wonder if it’s the metals or actual magic needs to be weaved into it.” Peter tossed StarkPhone 7 into the Reject Box and got out StarkPhone number 8. 

“As far as I know, metals don’t really, er, matter? If we need magic to put into the phone, I’ve got no idea how to do that. I mean, I just found out that magic even existed when I got my letter.”

So his relatives never told him. For a decade .

“Mr. Stark knows some people who practice magic,” Peter said easily. “And about the name thing, Parker and Potter? I park, you pot?”

Harry snorted. “Are you old enough to park?”

“Hey, I can park a bicycle!”

“If taking care of Aunt Petunia’s plants is considered potting, sure. I guess our last names do make sense.”

So he takes care of his aunt’s garden despite being a kid.

“You said Mr. Stark knows some people who practice magic?”

“Yeah? You wanna meet them?”

“Sure! Think they can give me tips on defeating Dark Lords?” 

Defeating?

“Well, Mr. Loki had a whole army once –”

═══════════════════

“Beginning the foundations of a magic-resistant phone all the while getting to know Harry and finding more about his situation.” Tim stared at Peter for a bit longer. “How would you like to be my new best friend?”

“I kind of already have a best friend,” Peter said sheepishly. 

“We’ll duel for the right to be your bestest friend.”

“Going back on topic,” Dick sang. 

“Right, so other than that, he kind of implied that he faces a lot of bullying in school?” Peter rubbed the back of his neck. “And there were lots of comments telling me he doesn’t trust adults all that much.”

“Most of the adults around him aren’t exactly competent,” Jason scoffed. “Who can blame him?”

Arms wrapped around Peter from behind and he looked to find Cass hugging him. “Sad.”

“I – yeah.” Peter sighed, shoulders drooping. “I underestimated how hard it would be to act calm and cool while he joked about – you know.”

“Oh, Peter.” Dick stood to wrap him in a hug too. 

Damian followed but opted to stiffly pat Peter’s arm. 

“You have adequate self-control, Parker,” he said. 

Jason and Tim stayed in their seats for a few awkward moments before Dick motioned them over with a glare. 

“It’s just,” Peter blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay. “The way he’s so okay just joking about it – I mean, I guess it shows that he’s strong and all but – oh god .”

Peter would rather not think about a few particular jokes that had his alarm bells screeching.

“He shouldn’t have had to go through it?” Jason completed with a knowing tone.

Peter nodded weakly. And they all stood together in silence for a few more minutes.

═══════════════════

Impromptu hugging session over, Damian took the stand and everyone else took their seats. He did not put on the lens-less glasses nor held the folders filled with blank papers. Nevertheless, he poised himself like a spy ready to report.

“Before I present to you my conclusions –”

“Initial Assumptions,” Tim corrected.

Damian stared him down and repeated, “Before I present to you my conclusions , I would like to assure you that most of the problems that will arise from my presentation were already taken care of.”

“... What?” Dick furrowed his eyebrows.

“I shall now begin.”

“ Damian .”

“The Cousin of Concern must be removed from his summer residence immediately for his wellbeing is at great risk and his potential immensely held back in such a restrictive environment.”

“Holy shit,” Jason covered his grin with a hand and held on to a wheezing Tim.

“Why?” Peter asked. 

“This is exactly how he does his speeches when– oh my god, Jason he even has the frown! – when he wants to bring an animal ho–home,” Tim replied before biting his fist to hold back his laugh.

Cass was openly smiling, edging Damian on with thumb-ups. 

“His relatives who serve as his guardians are utterly incompetent in giving him his basic needs. It is not for the lack of knowledge or resources, the Dursley son is well-provided for. It is a relief that Harry is as well-adjusted as he is but this gross domestic mistreatment must be ceased as soon as possible.”

Dick had the entire bottom half of his face covered by both hands, his eyes were squinted with either mirth or exasperation. Probably both.

“What happened during your time with him that led you to this conclusion?” Tim asked diplomatically, somewhat recovered.

Damian tensed. “That is between me and Harry.”

Huh.

Tim shared a look with Peter who shared a look with Jason who shared a look with Dick who shared a look with Cass who jerked her head minutely to the right. 

“Okay, Dames,” Dick replied softly. “But what did you mean by ‘taken care of’?”

Damian untensed, whipped out the projector’s remote and turned to the next slide.

HOW TO WIN A CUSTODY BATTLE AGAINST VERNON AND PETUNIA DURSLEY

A COMPREHENSIVE PLAN MADE BY DAMIAN WAYNE

“Holy shit,” Jason whispered, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. “ Holy shit .”

“I have completely and thoroughly formulated Plans A through P, Plans Q to W need some polishing, and I have yet to make Plans X to Z.”

Tim buried his red face into a dumbfounded Peter’s shoulder.

“After careful deliberation, the most effective plans are Plans D, I, and E. They involve some maiming though not to the point of breaking Father’s code and potentially scarring Parker.” Damian paused. “And the maiming is only focused on Mr. and Mrs. Dursley.”

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t ,” Jason sunk down his chair as he repeatedly slapped Tim’s arm.

“You do know that you’re related to the Dursleys, right?” Dick asked slowly. “You’re related to Harry on his mother’s side, remember?”

The growing horror on Damian’s face was comical. 

“ Father! ”

Jason and Tim descended into loud fits of laughter, pulling Peter with them as they fell off their chairs and Damian stomped back inside. 

═══════════════════

“It is a disgrace and embarrassment! Nobody must ever know of our relation to them –”

Bruce tuned out Damian’s scathing words in favor of glaring at a silently chuckling Tony who had no right to find this situation amusing. 

“Can we send them to another planet?”

Bruce startled. “No!”

“I refuse for them to be on the same soil as Harry and I!” Damian screeched.

“They’re technically not –”

“ You know what I mean. ”

“I know a Norse God,” Tony said mischievously. “Pretty sure Asgard has their own special prisons.”

Damian’s eyes gleamed. 

“Tony, no ,” Bruce half-seethed, half-begged.

Before anything else could happen, a translucent, blue cat materialized and stopped at the center of the three. It opened its mouth and the voice that came out was unmistakable Minerva McGonagall’s.

“Harry Potter has been kidnapped. He was last seen being dragged into the Forbidden Forest by a black figure. A search and rescue is underway and I strongly suggest you stay put .”

The cat fizzled out.

A moment of horrified silence. Then chaos broke loose because like hell were they going to 'stay put'.

Damian ran back out. “He’s been kidnapped!”

“My jet," Bruce said firmly.

Tony didn’t fight him, only nodded and said, “My back-up.”

They went their separate ways. Increasingly distressing what-if’s ran through their brains as they prepared to speed to Hogwarts.

(Bruce thumbed his JL communicator.)

═══════════════════

“You are so bloody dramatic.”

Harry had his arms crossed as Padfoot dragged him across the forest floor by the scruff of his shirt. 

Padfoot huffed as if to say, “You went along with it.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Harry griped. “Run away and let everyone see you?”

Padfoot continued to drag him and Harry continued to whine for the sake of annoying him.

“You do know you’re still a wanted criminal, right? Like, have you forgotten? Has living on the run caused you some sort of selective amnesia? I bloody bet it has.”

Padfoot growled and switched back to being Sirius. “Really, Harry? Are you a child?”

“Yes! I technically still am!” Harry exclaimed. “What’s your excuse?”

Sirius opened his mouth then closed it.

“That was a good one.”

“Thanks –” Harry frowned. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” Sirius asked with a smirk.

“Distracting me, I’m still annoyed at you.”

“Are you, though?”

“Yes, very much.”

“Sure?”

“ Yes. ”

“Are you really sure?” Sirius batted his eyelashes and pouted, looking so ridiculous that giggles escaped Harry’s mouth. “Doesn’t sound you’re too upset.”

“Sirius!” Harry tried to sound stern but it came out strained.

“You don’t seem to be Sirius-ly annoyed at all!”

Harry gave up and wrapped his arms around his godfather’s neck, delighted laughter pouring out of him. Sirius hugged him back just as tight.

“I missed you,” Harry murmured.

“I missed you too, Harry.” Sirius ran his fingers through the messy mop of hair. 

“Though I heard that you’ve kept yourself occupied without me.”

It was at that moment that Harry realized he hadn’t told Sirius anything . He slowly detached himself from the no-longer warm-feeling embrace. Harry tried to wrack his brain for something to say but came up with nothing. 

“I’m going to be honest,” Sirius started calmly. “I was immensely put off and angry and maybe a little hurt that I had to hear from Dumbledore of all people about your relatives.”

Harry mentally shelved away that information and tampered down on the frustration that revelation brought up.

“Remus stopped me before I could do anything stupid and locked me up in my room until I could think clearly.” Sirius breathed deeply. “Again, I admit that I’m a bit hurt but I recognize that there could’ve been other factors included into this and it’s not just about me.”

“Harry… I know we aren’t that close yet considering… everything,” Sirius’ voice wobbled a bit and he cleared his throat to fix that. “But may I know the reason why you didn’t tell me?”

“I – Sirius, I’m sorry,” Harry whispered, terrified. “A lot was happening and – and it was happening so fast , it was overwhelming and then there was Draco and the plan and it got me occupied – I kept worrying about my new relatives and I just – I didn’t – I – I –”

“Shh, Harry, breathe.” Sirius pulled him back into a hug, a looser one to give Harry space. “Okay, I understand. It’s alright.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Harry repeated meekly. 

“You don’t need to be,” Sirius assured. “I was being self-centered and didn’t think about how you felt amidst all of this.”

“But you deserved to know,” Harry protested.

"No, I don’t.”

Harry lifted his head to protest again but Sirius shushed him.

“I haven’t been all that present in your life, Harry.” His smile was sad. “Despite being your godfather.”

“You’re here now,” Harry said fiercely. “It means more to me than you realize.”

Sirius hummed. “Even with your new relatives in the picture?”

Harry gawked. “What?”

“If you want to move with them to America, I get it. Stark and Wayne are more than able to provide and care for you,” Sirius said. “It’s loads more than what I can give you with my current situation.”

Harry couldn’t piece his severely confused thoughts into a sensible order.

“I hope they’d let me visit you. That is, if you’d still want me to.” Sirius’ smile was barely holding it together. “But I completely understand that being with your new relatives is for your greater good.”

Greater good.

The frustration he had tamped down rose into scathing fury.

“Don’t you ever, ever say those words to me again. ”

Sirius flinched. “Harry?”

“He doesn’t get to fucking decide what is for my greater good!” Harry yelled, voice cracking. “He doesn’t get to decide shit! Not when he left me at the Dursley’s doorstep and left me there for a decade! Not when he did nothing after everything!”

“Harry –”

“It’s my life and I get to decide! My life! Mine !”

“Harry!”

Something snapped through the air and Harry heard a rush of wind against his ears.

He was free-falling.  

That was weird. He didn’t remember being on his broom.

Arms caught him before he could hit the ground and he realized it was Sirius’ voice that kept talking to him in panic. Harry couldn’t make out his words. 

“All muggleborns are automatically under the Hogwarts Headmaster’s magical guardianship when they start school.” 

Tears flowed down his cheeks. It’s been a while since he’d cried.

“And if they fall into trouble before that, the Headmaster is still their representative in any legal matters if their name was already on the list.”

Memories, each one worse than the last, attacked his thoughts at every direction.

“What does that tell you?”

Harry curled around Sirius, fisting his lose robes, and swallowed back a whimper. Sirius quieted.

“He was supposed to protect me,” Harry said brokenly. 

“He was supposed to protect me.”

═══════════════════

Sirius didn’t exactly understand what he meant by that, he didn’t completely understand the rest of Harry's outburst too. Especially not why his godson was floating in midair surrounded by pure rage-induced magic. But one thing he understood perfectly was that he was heavily and deliberately misinformed. 

That needed to be remedied immediately. 

“Tell me everything.”

And Harry did.

Chapter Text

Sirius paced. And paced. Then he paced some more. 

Harry let him, contentedly giving him the space to process the shitstorm he just revealed. Sirius already underwent a complete meltdown wherein he yelled, cursed, cried, and apologized. But he couldn’t waste any more time on emotions. No, he had to plan.

“I want in,” Sirius declared. “I don’t care about the specifics, I want in.”

“Of course –”

“A visit to dear Cissy and Lucy should be on the agenda. I want them to make it clear once and for all where their allegiance lies and make it clear to them the repercussions if they fuck up.”

“Okay –”

“They can give me access to a mind healer if that means it speeds up the process of claiming the Black title. Its political sway will surely be a lot of help.”

“Uh –”

“I want to meet your uncles, have a talk with them. If the Malfoys succeed in stripping the Dursleys as your guardians, I want to be there to negotiate my godfatherly right to visits.”

“Hold on –”

“I can be their magical representative of sorts. Especially when your case reaches the Wizengamot. I can provide funds too –”

“Sirius!”

Sirius shut up. Harry sighed at him in exasperation.

“Let’s take this slowly, yeah?” Harry ran a hand through his hair. “I need to go back to the castle to talk to Draco then he’ll need to owl his parents about it. I need to owl Uncle Tony and Uncle Bruce too and that’s going to take a while –”

“Why do you need to owl them?”

“What d’ya mean?” Harry questioned. “They’re somewhere in London –”

“If they’re every inch the concerned relatives you paint them to be, they should already be on Hogwarts grounds if they were informed,” Sirius said. “And knowing Minnie, they were informed. I bet I can walk in as Padfoot right now and bump into them.”

“Pads, they don’t just jump at every chance to see me.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow at him.

“... don’t hold me against that –  That’s not the point!”

“Then what is your point?”

“My point is, it’s going to take some time. You can’t rush into it,” Harry said tiredly. “There’s no use running yourself ragged about it right now, especially not when you’re still considered a bloody criminal!”

Sirius opened his mouth to argue when it hit him.

“You’re concerned I’d either get hurt or get caught while running around to try and help you with your situation.”

Harry looked away.

“Oh, Harry.” Sirius pulled his godson in for a hug. “I’m not ‘rushing into it’, that would mean me apparating to the edge of the Malfoy Manor wards five minutes ago with no semblance of a plan.”

Harry snorted softly at that.

“I’ll be careful, I swear,” Sirius assured. “I just don’t want to waste any more time than I already have, okay?”

“Okay…” Harry conceded.

They stay like that for a couple more, peaceful moments.

“You’re still taking me with you as Padfoot.”

“Fine, but what will I say?”

Sirius hummed, another plan already forming in his mind.

═══════════════════

“A Forbidden Forest? A Forbidden Fore- and there’s no fucking safety measures to keep students safe from a forest filled with creatures that can kill them ?” 

Harry grimaced. He and Padfoot were both standing outside Dumbledore's door yet could still hear Uncle Tony’s enraged voice. Uncle Bruce’s was too low for Harry to catch what he was saying but loud enough that he could hear the poison that laced them. 

“Huh,” Harry said dumbly. “You were right.”

Padfoot scoffed as if to say ‘obviously’.

“I hope this’ll work,” Harry mumbled.

More shouting.

“We should probably get in there before they end up throttling Dumbledore,” Harry said.

Padfoot tilted his head at him.

Harry tilted his head right back then smirked. “You’re right, let’s leave them be for a few more minutes.”

Padfoot wagged his tail.

But then there was the sound of a crash and the distinct voices of Dick and Peter yelling ‘No!’.

“Or not.” 

Harry banged on the door. “It’s me! I’m alive! Stop killing each other!”

Padfoot barked something that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

The commotion inside stopped before a barrage of footsteps approached the door. It swung open and Harry was met with the faces of his Uncles and cousins looking frazzled.

“Harry!” Several voices exclaimed and he was promptly buried in hugs.

“You’re okay!”

“How’d you come back?”

“We should probably call off the missiles.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Who took you?”

“We should not. The culprit is still out there.”

“You are okay, yes?”

“Please tell me you aren’t hurt!”

Harry had to, quite literally, climb out of their tight embraces. “I’m okay! Stop suffocating me –”

They immediately backed away. Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall come out too. There’s a glint in Dumbledore’s eyes that, if Harry was still doubting that he had something to do with Sirius being misinformed, was all the proof of his involvement.

Harry took a few moments to gather himself before gesturing to Padfoot and announcing, “This is Snuffles.”

Professor McGonagall gave him a flat look that said, ‘Really?’

“He saved me from the creature that wanted to drag me deep into the woods.” Harry scratched Padfoot’s head. “It’s thanks to him that I’m okay.”

His uncles exchanged a glance. 

“How did he save you, chum?” Uncle Bruce settled on asking.

“I’m not entirely sure, I couldn’t see it,” Harry replied. “It was dragging me by my neck. Next thing I knew, there was barking and growling then I was let go and Snuffles came into view.”

Uncle Tony, who Harry knew had his share of weird stuff happening to him as a superhero, took the explanation in a stride. 

“That’s great, Emeralds. But don’t you think he has to go back to the Forbidden Forest ?” He said, saying Forbidden Forest like he was saying something silly.

Here goes nothing .

“But Uncle Tony,” Harry protested with wide eyes. “Snuffles doesn’t have a home! Can’t you see how thin he is?”

For extra effect, Padfoot whimpered and angled his body in a way that would show his ribs.

Damian inhaled sharply and clutched at Uncle Bruce’s shirt. Peter’s hands flew to his mouth.

“He saved my life!” Harry added in a voice crack. “Can’t I take care of him in exchange?”

“Kiddo –”

Harry switched gears and, in a blink, his pout and puppy-dog eyes were in full swing. Padfoot whined pitifully.

“Father,” Damian hissed.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter pleaded.

“Uncle Bruce, Uncle Tony.” Harry sunk down to his knees and wrapped his arms around Padfoot’s neck. “ Please .”

And the two Billionaire-Playboy-Philanthropists caved in.

Harry could see from the corner of his eyes that his other cousins weren't as convinced with his performance. Nevertheless, they didn't show it on their faces nor said anything to ruin the plan and for that, he was grateful.

“I have a few classes I can still catch up on. I don’t want to miss any more lessons.” Harry peered up at them. “Can you look after him for a bit?”

Dumbledore beamed. 

“I believe special considerations can be granted,” he said in that holier-than-thou voice of his. “After all, it is Snuffles we should thank for dear Harry’s safe return.”

“And what would those be?” Professor McGonagall asked, resigned to Harry’s shenanigans if the lack of a scowl on her face was anything to go by.

“I am sure there are many empty classrooms nearby for our guests and Snuffles to occupy as they wait for Harry’s classes to end.”

“Won’t it be a stressful environment for Snuffles?”

Harry caught Tim’s eyebrow twitch. Good. He expected him to catch on first.

“There will be no need to disturb the student populace,” Tim said. “Our jet is not far out, and it’s pet-friendly.”

Dick and Jason side-eyed Tim but they were missing something Harry hadn’t given them. Cass walked forward and crouched in front of Padfoot and Harry, staring at them intently. She must have found whatever she was looking for because she stood up, turned to her brothers, and gave them a look.

“I think we still have dog food from when we used to bring Ace with us on our travels,” Dick mused.

“And shampoo,” Jason added. “I hope they aren’t expired. Do dog shampoos expire?”

“But, surely, it’ll be quite a walk,” Dumbledore tried to reason

“We don’t mind a walk,” Uncle Bruce replied frostily. 

Whatever they fought about, it must have been bad enough for his tone to still be so angry.

“Harry will know where it is and he can come join us after his classes.” Uncle Bruce’s voice softened once he addressed Harry. “It’s at the same spot as last time.”

“Okay,” said Harry cheerily.

He skipped out into the hallways, giddy and relieved that it actually worked. He noticed that there aren’t any students around.

═══════════════════

“He mentioned a huge black dog when we were staircase watching,” Tim explained to the others. “Said there was only one like it far as he knew, very distinctive with its size and all.”

They all glanced at Snuffles who continued to happily trot alongside them as they head back to the jet

“Harry seemed to be so familiar with Snuffles already,” Tim continued. “My confirmation was when Dumbledore immediately offered for us to stay.”

“Whatever the deal with this dog is, both Harry and Dumbledore know,” Dick deduced. “Dumbledore wanted whatever it is he wanted to happen to occur within the school walls.”

“But Harry knew Dumbledore would have some way of listening in.” Jason continued. “That’s why he dropped the hint and trusted Tim would catch on.”

“You’re sure that he didn’t just fall for whatever Dumbledore had planned?” Tony asked from where he and Bruce walked a bit behind the group.

“That pout was too exaggerated to be real.”

The group turned to Peter in surprise. 

“What?”

“You’d know about exaggerated pouts, wouldn’t you?” Tony huffed, a little miffed.

Peter made his own ‘exaggerated pout’. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dick choked on air while Jason cackled and slung an arm over Peter. “We have corrupted him!”

“When did our kids get this smart?” Tony murmured.

“They were always smart,” Bruce said. “Putting them together just amplified it, I suppose.”

“Why do your kids have detective skills?” Tony pressed as they walked up the stairs of the jet.

“They like Sherlock Holmes.”

Tony doubted that but let it go in favor of looking at where Damian and Cass kept the dog in between them, staring at it unblinkingly. Bruce followed his gaze and sighed. 

“Snuffles won’t suddenly attack us.”

“He won’t,” Damian said. “Because we will not let him out of our sight.”

“No blink,” Cass agreed.

Bruce found no point in arguing. 

The moment the doors of the jet close, Damian unsheathed his hidden katana while Peter screamed in horror. Snuffles had deformed and grew until it changed into the shape of a pale man with long black hair. He stretched and several sounds of bones popping could be heard by the audience still in shocked silence.

“Hullo,” the man greeted. 

He was down in an instant, Cass’ legs wound around him and Damian’s katana held against his neck.

The man was unruffled, he looked like he expected it. “I’m the Harry dogfather and I’m here to give you three bones.”

Bewildered silence.

“Are you serious?” Jason asked.

He grinned. “Yes, Sirius Black. Glad you know me.”

“... what?”

“Harry’s godfather,” Bruce remembered from when Minerva had given him and Tony the rundown of Harry’s background. “A close friend of his parents’.”

Cass and Damian reluctantly back off to let Sirius sit. 

“That I am,” he confirmed. “Now, for my three bones.”

═══════════════════

To their credit, the Worthy Relatives – as Sirius has started referring to them in his mind – took all of his demands in a stride. Even though he never let them introduce themselves and there wasn't much of a getting-to-know-you involved. He was impressed.

“The Dursleys need to go jail.”

They tell him that they already have lawsuits drafted up, several lawyers already hired and working on them, and a comprehensive battle plan.

“He needs a better home.”

They list off their experiences and qualifications as adoptive fathers. Not to mention, the sheer amount of money they have that can be used to provide Harry with everything he could possibly need.

“I want visitation rights.”

They assure him that of course, he has visitation rights, he was Harry’s godfather after all. They can arrange something for summers, holidays, and birthdays.

“We need to schedule a meeting with the Malfoys.”

They agree. They want to know more about the intricacies of their plans and possibly collaborate when it comes to taking Harry’s situation to muggle and wizarding courts.

“I’ll be Harry’s Magical Guardian.”

They’re glad, they worried about who would fill in the role once they removed Dumbledore. They need someone to represent Harry in the magical world that they know will care about him the way they do.

“Who gets custody of him?”

That one caused a bit of an argument between Wayne and Stark and Sirius delighted in witnessing it. 

“We talked about this.”

“No, we have not. You have enough kids –”

“Which makes me more qualified –”

“Quality over quantity, you selfish, greedy –”

“Experience over intent, you spoiled, incompetent –”

‘You’re in good hands, Harry,’ thought Sirius delightedly, relieved to his core. 

He’s not an idiot to know he can’t be the father figure Harry needs, not with his mental health still reeling from his time in Azkaban. 

“You live in New York, didn’t you just have that alien attack ? Do you honestly think that it’s a safe place for Harry to recover and live in?”

“You live in fucking crime capital of the world !”

The knowledge of having failed Harry, and consequently James and Lily, countless times will forever stay with Sirius until he dies.

“At least I have people to call on when worse comes to worst!”

“I have the Justice League on speed dial. Try again.”

But these two grown, adult, immensely wealthy men fighting over who gets to adopt and spoil Harry? Sirius knew that this was not a failure.

(He’ll make sure of it if he has to.)

═══════════════════

It was the First Task. How had Harry forgotten? He was at the edge of the Forbidden Forest in the first place because Hagrid had wanted him to see the dragons. 

The whole ordeal, watching as a spectator, was terrifying enough. With every fiery breath and snap of sharp teeth, Harry couldn’t help but wonder what he would’ve done had Uncle Tony and Uncle Bruce refused to withdraw him. 

With how tight Ron and Hermione were gripping his hands on either side of him, they were thinking it too. Fred and George hadn’t joined in on all the excited shouting and betting. Anything that has something to do with the tournament just leaves a sour taste on their tongues knowing that their honorary little brother could’ve been in on that, they had said.

Krum was finally done. Harry didn’t bother to look at the scores, too busy calming himself down from the anxiety Krum’s actions caused. All of their actions, really. In fact, he was so busy doing breathing exercises that he hadn’t registered the screaming and scrambling until he was manhandled backward.

“Harry, we have to move!”

Harry’s vision cleared and he could see that the dragon was no longer chained. And it was advancing towards Harry at break-neck speed.

Uh oh.

Chapter Text

Two sets of hands pulled Harry to his feet. 

“Come on!” George – or Fred? Harry can’t really see – bellowed into his ears. 

Fred – or George – let him go to haul up a terrified Ron and Hermione. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

Bodies, running bodies, slammed into him in all directions. Panicked screams and desperate shouting mixed with the dragon’s roars. George – he’s sure it’s him – tried to pull him away but Harry was not going to leave without the others. 

“Ron! Hermione!” Harry yelled, holding out his free hand to them. 

Ron’s foot caught between the seats but recovered enough to grab Hermione’s hand and Harry’s with the other. Harry gripped Ron’s hand tightly to help them up faster. In Fred’s haste of moving Ron and Hermione, he lost his balance and began falling backward. 

Right towards the seats they had vacated, aflame. 

“Fred!” Ron screamed, letting go of Harry’s hand to reach out to Fred’s flailing arm.

And Harry couldn’t focus on anything except the licks of dragon fire that began to touch the red of Fred’s hair. 

Then Harry could only see red.

═══════════════════

The portraits that lined Hogwarts' old walls watched as the same group of people stormed down its halls for the second time in less than 24 hours. Although the group is not magical and they are merely portraits, they could almost feel the sheer fury the group radiated. Growling menacingly alongside them is one huge, black grim. 

Thus began the intense game of telephone. Who exactly were these muggles? Why have they come again? 

Whispers of the First Task spread throughout. Something went wrong, they said. Something about losing control of the dragon and attacking the students. The questions changed. 

Why had that happened? Is that what the muggles are here for?

Speculation. Some portraits have heard of students speaking about two bizarre but influential muggle men who had recently claimed relation to one of their students. Harry Potter, of course. Because this sort of oddity only happened to him.

Are they here for him? For Harry Potter?

That’s no good, some portraits worried. His group had been rushed to the Infirmary, some of them saw. Nobody could get a good look at who had gotten hurt though. And nobody could know for sure, Madame Pomfrey allowed no portraits there.

The group split into two. The younger ones went down the hall towards the Infirmary, led by the only girl. The two eldest-looking men and the grim continued on. They marched up the path to the Headmaster’s office.

The game of telephone expanded, to the house elves, to the ghosts, to the portraits that hung on the walls of the office. The previous headmasters whispered to each other in hushed tones and conspiratorial glances. Unlike the outside portraits, the house elves, and the ghosts, they knew this group of muggles.

And they were going to bear witness to a very entertaining confrontation.

The door burst open, guarding gargoyle be damned. 

Stark started shouting before Dumbledore could even stand up. 

“Old man you are so goddamn lucky I don’t have my suit with me right now. Because if I did, there’d be a giant hole on your long-ass Santa Claus beard and through your brittle old chest!”

“Mr. Stark,” Dumbledore said placatingly. “The dragon was a little accident by the handlers. I had no control over –”

“By fucking hell you didn’t!” Tony cut in heatedly. “This is your school, your grounds, you could have – should have disagreed to letting dragons so near to children !”

“It is the Tri-Wizard Tournament, after all. Naturally, with so many foreign presences, the Ministry wanted a bit of a show –”

“Fuck the Ministry. It’s your job as Headmaster to always have the children’s interests in mind, That was supposed to be your fucking responsibility!”

The grim transformed – the portraits gasped – into a man. They stared, wide-eyed. Because even dressed in rags, looking older and worse-for-wear, they’d recognize this man simply due to the many times he had visited this office before.

“Oh, believe me, this old man’s had a lot of responsibilities he’s fucked up at,” Sirius Black glowered.

“Sirius, my boy –”

Black’s face twisted with disgust. “Don’t you ‘my boy’ me.”

He invaded Dumbledore’s personal space, jabbing fingers into his chest and beard with every accusation, his magic so wild and uncontrollable that they upturned various trinkets around the office.

“You never gave me a second glance when they threw me to Azkaban without a trial. You let me rot there for twelve years when you knew that I would rather die than sell Lily and James to Voldemort – rather die than sell my own godson to that monster!”

“Sirius,” Dumbledore pleaded, face pained. “It was war –”

“And what did you do after I escaped? After you obviously knew of my innocence?”

Dumbledore looked away.

“Exactly. Nothing .”

“What could I have done?” Dumbledore reasoned. “Pettigrew escaped and then there was Remus –”

“You have immense power in the Wizengamot, they would have listened to you if you had said a word but you didn’t do a damned thing !” Sirius roared.

Stark and Wayne reared back at that, seemingly finding out about this for the first time.

“And so here I am, still a wanted fugitive,” Black said bitterly. “Can’t even visit my friends and my godson in peace.”

Stark angled himself away from Dumbledore. His face was stormier with these new revelations. Black panted heavily, head lowered and hand running a shaking hand through his long, matted hair.

Wayne stayed as silent and still as a statue. The only way anyone would know he wasn’t one was the clenching of his fists. His steely, narrowed-eyed gaze followed Dumbledore’s every move. The portraits were of the opinion that he resembled a Dementor.

“But do you know what’s worse, Professor?” Black asked, voice lower but cracking.

The headmasters in the portraits leaned as forward as they possibly could. 

Black looked up, eyes wet with unshed tears. Pain, sadness, anger, or a mix of all three, the portraits weren’t sure.

“You completely  left Harry – sweet, kind, Harry – in the care of a woman who you knew would rather kill herself than accept any child of Lily’s as her own.”

The portraits erupted in horrified exclamations.

They knew of Harry Potter. They had seen how alarmingly thin and frail the young boy always seemed to be. Signs of a prolonged struggle that was impossible to have happened in Hogwarts. Signs that pointed toward what he must be facing at home. And to know that their successor willingly put him in such an environment –

“He is her family!” Dumbledore protested. “Surely, Petunia – the blood wards needed –”

“Minerva warned you how they were and there are protections far stronger than blood wards,” Black interrupted calmly. “What other excuses do you have, Albus? Too busy to check up on him even after his acceptance letter’s address was the cupboard under the stairs ?”

They screamed. They cursed. 

How dare he. How dare he! To willingly neglect a child –

Wayne finally moved. He stalked forward menacingly. The portraits fell silent as he passed, his wrath clear in the stiff way he held himself. As if he was physically holding back from throttling Dumbledore.

“If there is even one scratch on him,” Wayne said quietly. “I suggest you start settling your affairs, Headmaster.”

Some of them shivered at the icy poison in his tone.

“And no matter where you go, how much you run –” Wayne leaned on the desk, glaring down at Dumbledore. “ – we will find you.”

“And we’ll bring our friends with us,” Stark added with faux cheeriness.

Black, catching onto something the portraits couldn’t, barked out a loud, deranged cackle. 

The previous headmasters exchanged glances. They best start talking about potential candidates for a successor soon.

═══════════════════

Someone’s fingers were carding through his air and a voice shushed him. “Relax, it’s okay, you’re safe.”

No, he wasn’t. The dragons, the fires – Fred!

“I’m right here, Harrikins,” Fred’s voice said. “Still kickin’!”

“Really?” deadpanned Ron’s voice.

“Right, well… my skin’s still raw?”

“Just stop,” Hermione’s voice pleaded.

Harry sighed in relief, leaning more into the soft caresses. 

“Ready to wake up yet?”

Harry hesitated but forced his eyes open. He blinked up blearily at the blobs hovering over him, three red and one brown.

“Oh, here,” said Hermione as she gently pushed his glasses onto his face.

Vision clearing, Harry could now see that his friends, though a bit tousled up, were okay. 

“Hi,” Harry croaked. 

They smiled down at him in varying levels of softness, gratitude, and concern. Harry sighed.