A Stark Request
The first rays of dawn crept through the towering windows of Stark Industries, painting the sleek office in shades of orange and pink. Tony Stark, already in his iconic suit, sat at his desk, surrounded by the silent hum of technology. He squinted at the ever-growing mountain of paperwork, contemplating the futility of his existence. Or at least, the futility of his administrative duties. With a sigh, he swiped at the holographic screen before him, sending emails and virtual documents flying into neat little piles.
"Jarvis," he called out to his AI, "find me someone who can organize chaos into order."
"Certainly, Mr. Stark," the soothing British voice responded. "I shall begin the search for a suitable candidate immediately."
The following week, a series of interviews commenced, with a lineup of eager Muggle applicants, each one more overwhelmed than the last by the prospect of working for the legendary Tony Stark. Most were star-struck, fumbling over their words as they tried to impress him with their organizational skills and knowledge of office software. Tony nodded along, his mind elsewhere, until the final candidate of the day walked in.
This young man was different. He had a quiet confidence that didn't need to be announced, and an air of mystery that had nothing to do with his plain black-framed glasses. He introduced himself as Harry Potter, and Tony couldn't help but feel a flicker of interest. Harry's resume was unassuming, but something about his demeanor suggested that he was capable of handling much more than the average Joe.
"Mr. Stark," Harry began, his voice steady, "I understand that your life is... unconventional. I assure you, my organizational skills are top-notch, and I am quite adept at dealing with the unexpected."
Tony studied him for a moment, then leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "Let's just say, Mr. Potter, that if you can handle what I throw at you, you might just survive."