Harry Potter and the Unexpected Family

Harry was an idiot.

As he pulled his legs closer to his chest where he sat in the corner of the (too large) cupboard, Harry tried to even out his ragged breaths and admonished himself. Here he was with two new parents and a whole mess of uncles and family friends, every orphan's secret dream, and what had he done on very his first day with them? Oh that's right, he attacked everyone, ran away to a closet of all places, and sent James and Tony away when they came to … what, take care of him? The whole scenario was beyond mortifying and completely pathetic.

Harry was pissed at himself for getting spooked in the first place. Normally it wouldn't have been an issue; he wasn't a fan of unsolicited touches and the word freak did raise his hackles a bit, but he'd handled both before without losing his cool like that. This time though, Harry had been in a room with highly trained and unfamiliar adults while he sat and ate a meal. Harry hated himself for being so anxious about such a basic action, but he'd always had trouble eating in front of people. It just put him on edge, like he was waiting for someone to come knock him around for "wasting good food on ungrateful brats like him", even if he knew that most people weren't like the Dursleys and they were supposed to feed him no matter their feelings about him. He couldn't help the fear though, and in new situations it was hard to overcome. The first time he'd stayed at the Burrow, poor Molly thought he was ill for days because he couldn't stomach more than a few bites at family meals. It was just pitiable, honestly. Harry was almost an adult now, he should be able to eat in a room with others without his pulse picking up speed. 

Not to mention his underlying anxiety that these people would realize at some point that he was a freak. He was pretty embarrassed about his overly dramatic reaction to that word specifically. The Dursleys had screwed him up in a bunch of ways, he knew, but it wasn't anything Harry couldn't manage so his panic attack felt like a sort of failure, like he'd disappointed James and Tony somehow with his weakness. Petunia was rarely one to get physical with him, but her words had always been dripping with disdain, and ever since his first bit of accidental magic she has used that word liberally against him. It wouldn't have been anything special considering the many taunts and insults thrown at him daily that he ignored, but when Petunia started shrieking that Harry was a freak, Vernon always came running to beat the freakishness out of him. Without fail, like clockwork. He just associated the term with pain.

But that was what had Harry so pissed at himself. If he'd been at the Dursleys, he wouldn't have reacted like that, he would have expected it and braced for it. He'd never give Vernon the satisfaction of seeing him afraid, hadn't since he was a little kid, so why did he flip out so hard here? Was it the fact that these people were all fighters, fit and the best in their fields? Or that he didn't know them so he didn't know what to expect? Whatever it was, it was stupid. Harry knew logically that these people didn't want to hurt him, they'd said so under veritaserum, and even if they did, pain was something Harry knew how to handle. He shouldn't have lost the plot so easily, even if he could still hear Petunia's voice ringing in his head.

The worst part about all of this, though, wasn't his panicked fleeing and attacking everyone (though that was all horrifying). Harry felt positively sick when he remembered what happened when Tony and James followed him. He'd been so lost in memories of his aunt and uncle that he'd been truly afraid of them. How messed up was that? They had come to help him. They wanted to come and comfort him but they stopped when he said no. They helped him calm down so he could breathe, and how did he thank them? He flinched away in fear, and when he’d settled a bit he sent them away out of mortification and anxious vulnerability. Like a selfish, ungrateful coward.

How could he do this if he was so broken?

Abruptly, Harry stood on shaky legs and stumbled out of the closet. It was embarrassing and pathetic to go in there in the first place. He glared at it as he left, pissed at the reminder that he was strange for seeking safety in the little room, before he went and sat in one of the armchairs by the glass wall overlooking the city. Harry figured that the others would be angry with him for his unprovoked violence so he decided to spare them his company and stay in the room he'd been assigned. It was much nicer than the tiny spaces he'd been banished to at Privet Drive, so it didn't feel like much of a sacrifice even if there was a tight ball of pain in Harry's stomach at the thought of what Tony and James must think of him now. He clasped his trembling hands together so he could try to calm down.

The tremors, though less intense than they had been at the start of this mess, were unlikely to stop completely for another half hour or so, which Harry had learned the hard way after the third task. It was his first time being held under a crucio, and it was a powerful one cast by a magically strong and emotionally deranged psychopath, meaning it was probably the most destructive version of the spell a person could experience, while retaining their life and sanity. All together he'd suffered under the spell for about 12 minutes that night. The healer Sirius had hired (via Remus, because his godfather was still a wanted man at the time) had told him that his exposure far exceeded the average time of just under two minutes, so he should expect some lasting side effects despite the potion she prescribed him to help treat the aftermath. The spell itself targeted the nervous system, lighting it up like a live wire to put the victim in unspeakable pain, so Harry’s nerves had a few residual effects. He'd lost a bit of sensation in his hands and feet, not very noticeable most of the time but it did make him fumble with things every once in a while. He also got the occasional shooting, fiery pain, something that happened at random and usually ended quickly, so it was just something he grit his teeth and bore. It was worse when his nervous system was under strain (like when he was ill or especially tense). The spell had also blown out some of his pain receptors, so his already skewed tolerance was even more off balance, which Harry didn't particularly care about. All of this got worse if he was malnourished (he could thank the Dursleys for that knowledge), especially the lack of sensation in his hands and his fine motor functions, which was the most annoying thing about all of this except for the tremors. Harry couldn't stop his hands from shaking sometimes, and it got much worse when he was stressed, scared, angry, or anxious. Like right now, of course.

All of this had become much more prevalent in the last two weeks because Dumbledore had refused to send Harry to St. Mungo's after the ministry attack, where Voldemort had crucio'ed Harry for another four minutes while possessing him. The headmaster had reasoned that Harry was safer at the castle, but Madam Pomphrey wasn't qualified to administer a cruciatus treatment and Harry was too busy wallowing in his shame over killing Sirius to push for a healer. 

Hermione and Ron surely would have done so if they had known any details about what Harry experienced after they were separated that night, but Harry wouldn't have been able to take the pity in their eyes if they knew, so he never told them. Thus, without a qualified professional seeing to him, the effects were exacerbated. Any treatment he got now would be ineffective as well, since the window for administering the potion was 48 hours after exposure. Essentially, Harry was stuck like this. It wasn't that big of a deal in the scheme of things, but did annoy him a bit in moments like this when he needed to get the tremors under control.

Not that he had any right to complain. Cedric had died by Voldemort's hand. The Longbottoms had been held under the curse so long they went mad. All things considered, Harry knew he was relatively lucky to just have some shakiness and a couple twinges now and then.

None of that was really important right now, though. Harry had used his annoyance at his shaking hands to distract himself and get control of his panic, and now he was calm enough that the trembling had slowed to a stop. He looked up from where he'd been staring at his hands and spoke, voice scratchy from his pained breathing and the hour of disuse.

"JARVIS?'

"How can I help, little brother?"

Harry looked down sharply at the claiming term. Harry didn't have any right to JARVIS's gentle tone and endearment when he'd put Tony in harm's way just over an hour ago.

He cleared his throat. "Um, is everyone else alright?"

JARVIS was silent for a moment before answering, still in that softer tone like Harry was something fragile and dangerous, like a shard of glass or a bomb. "From what I have observed, I would say that the other Tower residents are unharmed and calm, although worried about your well-being. This anxiety is especially present in Sir, Mr. Odinson the younger, and Mr. Lupin."

Harry stiffened at that, unsure how to respond. He attacked them and they were worried about him? 

“Is there anything I can do to help put you at ease, Harry?”

The teen tensed further, clenching his hands tightly together before shaking his head. “Please just keep everyone away, JARVIS. I’d rather not hurt anyone else.”

“Very well, Harry. Please call on me if that changes.”

Harry nodded, the best response he could offer before he slumped, resting his forehead in his hands and just letting his thoughts overwhelm him.

He’d been sitting that way for about half an hour when his spiraling self-degradation was sharply interrupted by a scratching sort of noise on the other side of the thick glass. Harry was instantly alert, whipping his gaze over to the source of the sound. 

He was scrambling toward the window when he caught sight of what was outside.

Hedwig was flapping aggressively outside, pecking and scratching the glass in agitation as she searched for a way into the room, all while letting out angry barks of annoyance at her Harry. The boy was quick to begin searching for some kind of latch or sliding track on any of the window panes.

“JARVIS, can you open these at all?”

“Of course, Harry, though there is a high probability that doing so will result in the presence of a snowy owl in your room. Is that what you wish?”

“Yes, please!” He spoke loudly, hoping his friend could hear him through the glass. “Go up, Hedwig!”

A narrow panel near the ceiling slid open, and Hedwig essentially dive bombed the room. As JARVIS returned the window to its previous position, the irritated owl landed on Harry’s outstretched arm and immediately began barking pointedly at Harry. The teen winced at the very obvious agitation and the clear scolding he was receiving, even as he felt something in him ease at being close with his dear friend again. He spoke gently, letting the remorse shine through his tone and eyes.

“I’m so sorry I left without you girl, I wouldn’t have done it if there was another option.”

More sharp hoots and beak clicks were her response.

“I know, you must have been angry and worried and a bunch of other things. But there just wasn’t any time to waste. I knew that Dumbledore would have arrived soon and stopped me from leaving, so I had to move quickly.” Harry gave a hopeful sort of smile, filled with honest admiration and fondness. “Besides, if any owl could find someone across an ocean in under a day, it’s you, Hedwig. You always know when and where I need you.”

Hedwig tilted her head, clearly giving off a disapproving air before she started puffing out her feathers, taking the praise as her due. Harry’s shoulders released their tension when the proud bird allowed him to stroke her feathers, clearly forgiving him when she moved to preen his hair.

“I missed you too, girl. You were off hunting for a while this time.”

When the Dursleys had left days ago, Harry gave the owl his blessing to roam free and hunt to her heart's content. He knew that she suffered more than she ought to, what with being locked in that house just to keep him company during the miserable months he was forced to reside there, and he was glad to offer her the chance to stretch her wings and truly feel full for a change. He’d missed her as he always does, but he had only been mildly worried when leaving England without her. Hedwig was smarter than him, Harry was convinced, and he knew that she would come to find him. 

Grateful to have her back with him now, Harry moved to sit back in the armchair and gently settled Hedwig in his lap. After hearing his sincere apology, she stepped closer, rubbing her head on his chest in an obvious attempt to comfort her ridiculous wizard. It was only when she moved back and Harry heard the sound of parchment rubbing on fabric that he noticed the letter rolled up and tied to Hedwig’s leg.

“Not just hunting, then, Hedwig? Do you mind if I take a look?”

Hedwig gave an affirmative head bob and presented her leg for Harry to untie the attached note. When he did, she settled on the back of the armchair and went back to preening his hair while he unrolled the paper and went to read it, squinting at what he found.

Ah. A letter from Hermione and Ron. 

Last summer when Dumbledore had tried to prevent them from communicating with him, Ron and Hermione had spent their first week together at Grimmauld Place devising a way for Harry to receive their letters without interference. Seeing as how the old wizard had lost the Golden Trio’s trust with the compulsion candies, Harry’s friends had no qualms undermining his authority and staying loyal to their brother; how dare that man ask them to abandon him after the year he'd been through? What they devised was a two step system.

First, the letter would be placed under a tricky little charm that Hermione herself had invented at Ron's suggestion - she'd taken a simple concealing charm and adapted it so that it could be applied specifically to written language. When in use, the charm disfigured any words on the paper into scribbles with no discernible meaning. The spell allowed for the words to be keyed into a select person's ambient magic, specifically their fingertip, therefore requiring no wand to access the message under the charm (Hermione knew that when Harry was intently focused, he tended to follow along with whatever he was reading using a finger so he wouldn't skip lines or lose his place. She designed the spell accordingly so that Harry, who would set down his finger before noticing the scribbles in his haste to see what had been written, would observe the change in lettering when he interacted with the penned greeting). It had worked marvelously, and the first letter only detailed who was corresponding, what the spell was, and that Harry should respond on the pre-spelled blank parchment included in the note to let the other two know he'd received it. Once Hermione and Ron knew that Harry both got and deciphered their message, they began sending him every scrap of information and encouragement that they could.

The second layer of protection on their correspondence was actually quite simple. Most owls can only deliver a letter to the person specifically noted on the parchment’s exterior. They didn't need a physical address, but the paper had to be clearly marked with the intended recipient's name in order for the owl to know where to go. A select few owls, the illustrious Hedwig included, could ignore that in favor of spoken instructions. Harry hadn't known that other owls weren't capable of this until he mentioned sending Hedwig after Sirius with a letter labeled "Snuffles", but Ron had explained the concept to him and Hermione with a handful of tales about the antics of Errol, the Weasley family owl. Seeing the value in the misdirection, Ron had been the one to have Hermione address the outside of the letters carried by Hedwig to Dr. and Dr. Granger while providing different verbal instructions to the bird, meaning that Dumbledore would have no inclination to review the contents and find the concealing charm inside that would arouse suspicion. Quite a simple diversion, but one that worked splendidly. 

As far as the three of them could tell, he never suspected anything. As he sat in the Tower, feeling both eager and anxious at what the note would contain, Harry rested his finger on the parchment and watched the words unravel.

Harry felt a flood of warmth in his chest. He hated to worry them but having friends who wrote to him, not because their savior had disappeared but because their brother might not be safe, was a deeply treasured feeling for Harry. He hadn’t had that sort of care and connection for much of his life, and he would never take it for granted.

That sensation was quickly followed by a rush of bitter realization when Hermione’s words hit him. Dumbledore had said the protections had fallen at some point during Harry’s interaction with the Avengers in the Dursley’s house. That meant Privet Drive and its occupants were being monitored, at least in some measure, which reaffirmed Harry’s conclusion that the man knew about the treatment he endured and chose to do nothing.

If search parties were being sent out, then Harry felt fairly certain that Dumbledore didn't know who took him or where they'd gone, which in turn meant that the monitoring didn't give any sort of live viewing inside the house. However, he knew that charms existed that could act as alarms for failing wards, bodily harm to an occupant, unexpected magical surges, someone crossing a boundary, and a dozen other things. It should have occurred to him that Dumbledore would have set up a failsafe to alert him if Vernon went too far or Harry decided to leave his prison.

Harry was used to being disappointed by adults, but this one has cut deeper than most other failures of role models and authority figures. For years, Harry had seen Dumbledore as a mentor, almost like a grandfather. Someone wise, sharply intelligent, eccentric and slightly indulgent. Someone to turn to for answers, someone who was there in his most intense moments in the wizarding world. Harry had cherished the attention and praise the man had given him, so coming to the conclusion that the man had used the boy’s search for a parental figure to manipulate a potential weapon after willfully ignoring his ongoing abuse? That hurt more than Harry would have expected.

Harry tried to convince himself that there was no use dwelling on it (which totally worked, he was absolutely fine with it after a moment, if he ignored that tension in his gut and the traitorous pressure of building tears). Harry understood the headmaster's goals and tactics now, and he wouldn’t fall victim to them again. This all just meant that another bit of his quickly waning innocence and faith had died, and the walls he’d built to protect himself from harm were a little higher. Harry mourned it. Here he was in the home of a father he’d just discovered, reunited with one believed to be dead, and having his trust broken by those charged with his safety were making him more distant and wary even from an ocean away. Paired with his disastrous morning with Tony and James, the whole situation just made Harry feel incredibly isolated and miserable.

Maybe he was just destined to move through life alone.

Harry sighed where he sat in the armchair, running a hand over his face as he let the parchment fall to the coffee table as he turned to run his fingers through Hedwig’s feathers the way she enjoyed.

“What am I going to do, girl?”

In his peripheral vision from where he looked down at the tablet he was holding, Tony could see Loki’s increasingly agitated pacing across the length of the room. Loki’s emotional mask was much more effective than it had been in the last day or so since their reunion, his expression looking like the very definition of calm neutrality, but Tony knew his tells. The man’s tightly held muscles, the sharp exhales interspersed with his otherwise measured breathing, the muscle in his jaw that flexed when he glanced toward their son’s room - all of this was just screaming apprehension.

Not that Tony was any better. Once they’d sat down in the living room to give Harry some space, Tony had obviously been unable to escape to the safe haven that was his personal lab. He may be a new parent that was famous for impulsive self-centeredness, but even Tony knew that his kid needed to see that they weren’t angry with him or scared of his outburst. So, Tony had settled into the living room couch and pulled out his StarkTab to try and keep his mind occupied. Ideally, giving his hands something to do and his mind something simple to fiddle with would prevent him from chewing a hole in his cheek as he spiraled into a bunch of uselessly anxious thoughts. He hoped to stay relatively calm while they waited for Harry to decide to talk to them (which he had very little hope for at the moment - despite being a futurist, Tony was never one for optimism), and that meant trying to distract himself from the worry and guilt of the current situation.

Despite the distraction, however, Tony’s mind was firmly situated in the room down the hall, so he was unsurprised that his brain had detoured into designing something for his kid. He ended up sketching a smartwatch that was fashioned to look like a classic analog timepiece. It was, of course, gorgeous and better made than anything else in the world, as one would expect considering who it was designed by (honestly, was it even a brag if it was true? Tony didn’t think so.). The band was on the slimmer side for men’s styles with a moderately sized round clock face. The entire thing was made of anodized titanium colored to shine a warm gold. The face was actual white quartz with simple roman numerals around the edge; Tony had had fun designing a new type of display system that projected onto the clear glass instead of making the whole thing a digital screen; that way the watch could look as elegant and subtle as possible. It looked almost basic by Tony’s standards, even if the materials, mechanisms, and craftsmanship would be superb, but the style would suit his son much better than Tony’s own modernist aesthetic. Besides, the really impressive features were on the inside. 

Tony planned to equip the watch with a tiny microphone and speaker that would enable a connection to JARVIS, who would also have access to the integrated laser projection display on the glass of the watch face. The AI would be able to show information like texts, images, and other data whenever Harry needed it. The watch would also house a tracking device, vital monitors, and a small taser that could knock an average sized adult unconscious. (He thought about making something like his own portable wrist repulsor, because he was positive that the kid would love making things go boom as much as he did, but he didn’t think James would go for it. He was always such a mother hen when it came to Tony’s more explosive ideas, even if he admitted they were brilliant.) Tony knew that the watch would likely be ruined if the kid experienced any loss of magical control or had to do any heavy spell casting, but he was a fixer. He had to do something, so until he figured out a more permanent solution to this magic-electricity situation, he’d just provide as many protections as he could as many times as necessary. It would be easy to make a few watches for Harry to burn through while Tony tinkered with a more compatible energy source. Seriously, what good was being a billionaire if he didn’t get to make a bunch of cool shit whenever he needed to?

Tony had been distracted from James’ fretful motions as he placed the final touches on his schematic, so he startled a bit when James turned to him and spoke in a quiet, tight voice. 

“He barely ate anything this morning, and that was hours ago.” He met Tony’s eyes. There were so many layers of worry and guilt in James’ eyes despite the way he held his features in check. “I can’t let him be hungry.”

Tony tensed, noting the (now quite familiar) way the rope around his heart tightened into a brief stranglehold at the words before checking the time and setting the tablet down.

“I’m all for having a Family Feelings Hour right now, but I doubt the kid is gonna willingly interact with anyone after everything that went down this morning.” 

Rhodey, who had set down his phone where he sat beside Tony on the couch, heard the subtly anxious edge in his best friend's tone and casually rested his arm behind Tony, squeezing the shoulder gently in reassurance (which Tony was desperately grateful for, even if he could never say it in as many words) before speaking. 

“JARVIS, order us some lunch. Get the most popular dishes from a few restaurants nearby.” He turned to Remus. “Is there anything Harry especially enjoys?”

The man sighed. “He’s never been picky about what he eats, at least not that I’ve noticed. It’s now painfully clear why that is.” Remus grimaced and gave an apologetic glance to James when his friend flinched before he continued. “The only thing I know for certain that he favors is treacle tart.”

Tony nodded, and made a careless hand gesture toward the corner where the closest camera was. “Make it happen, J. Tip them whatever it takes to get the food here in under 20 minutes.”

“Of course, sir. Shall I alert Harry that a meal is imminent?”

Tony shook his head. “We’ll see if he’s willing to join us when the food is here. No need to give him time to get worked up.”

No one spoke after that, choosing to sit in tense silence as they each got lost in their own thoughts. Rhodey kept his arm around Tony, remembering the way Tony’s walls had been up just like Harry’s when he met the man in college; considering that they hadn’t met before yesterday, Rhodey was surprised at how alike the kid and his friend were based on what he’d seen and heard so far. Tony had taken to bouncing his leg aggressively while he silently listed all the things he’d need to learn about parenting exceptional, traumatized wizard kids in order to support Harry correctly; his planning was interspersed with lovely spikes of regret, self loathing, and bitterness toward those who necessitated this research. Remus was sitting at a barstool by the kitchen island, looking exhausted as he ruminated on all the signs he’d missed in Harry, and Loki had returned to his pacing, throwing intense gazes filled with repressed panic and longing down the hall toward his son every 15 to 20 seconds. His thoughts still had the slightly sharp edges of abating madness that he’d wrestled into submission throughout the night, and it took a great deal of self restraint to keep himself from violating Harry’s boundaries in a misguided attempt to help.

After 22 minutes, JARVIS announced the arrival of the food deliveries in the elevator, which opened to reveal several bags. Tony jumped up and started grabbing everything, and was met by the other three men when he got back to his kitchen island. They all silently unloaded the food. 

“Okay,” Tony finally said on an exhale, locking eyes with James across the countertop. "You ready?"

James gave a tight, rueful smile. "No. Let's do it."

Tony snorted half-heartedly before he nodded to JARVIS's camera. "J? Could you ask Harry if he'd be willing to come eat with us? Let him know what’s available and that he's welcome to whatever he wants."

All four men stood in silent stillness, waiting for the response. 

Finally, JARVIS disrupted the quiet. "Harry expresses his gratitude for the offer, but believes others in the tower will be more comfortable if he remains isolated."

Tony sucked in a hard breath and let it out slowly, grabbing James' arm when he began turning toward the hall like he intended to go to their kid. He couldn’t really blame the man for the urgency, since it’s not like he hadn’t stopped himself from following at the last second. But they had enough evidence from this morning to tell Tony that flying in blind wasn’t the move here. God damn, when the fuck did he become the cautious one?

"Wait. We promised we'd think things through, remember?"

Meeting James' eyes, Tony slid his fingers down the arm he’d grabbed to clasp the other’s hand tightly. He could feel the way the man's muscles had locked up, and easily saw the slightly out of control pain that was raging in his eyes. After a moment, James closed them and took a deep breath, nodding as he gave Tony's hand a squeeze.

Tony wasn't ready to take him back fully yet. Really, he had no idea what the future looked like for him and James and their teenage savior son. However, it was clear in that moment that for all his selfish-asshole ways, Tony didn't have the capacity to sit and watch the man he still loved suffer alone.

Still holding James' hand, he turned to Remus. "Do you think he'd let me and James go to him with some food?"

Remus seemed to think it over. "I think so. I would avoid mentioning this morning’s events at first, and wait until he brings them up himself. If you can show him that he is not alone in responding that way to triggers, then he may be more willing to talk to you." Remus met Tony's anxious gaze. "Am I correct in assuming that you can identify with this incident?"

Ha. What a nice, discreet way of saying “you obviously have panic attacks and poor mental health yourself". Whatever, it did help that he had firsthand knowledge of all this shit, it meant he could help Harry better. Tony quirked an eyebrow but nodded at Remus, squeezing James's hand when he felt the man's thumb rubbing soothingly over his knuckles. 

Remus nodded as well. "Then offer your thoughts and your own relevant experiences and sit with him while he thinks it over. And try not to observe him too much while he eats. Harry hates being watched while eating."

Of course he did. Stupid fuckers who raised him made him think that everyone wanted him to starve to death, why wouldn’t the kid be nervous when someone sees him eating?

He couldn’t sit there waiting anymore or he might explode, so Tony sighed and then addressed JARVIS. “See if the kid will let me and James bring him something, J.”

Another eternity stretched in the two minutes and twenty seconds it took JARVIS to respond. "Harry will allow you entrance."

Releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, Tony nodded and grabbed a plate, putting a decent amount of everything on it for the kid, and a sandwich and two street tacos for himself on another. James made his own plate and grabbed the entirety of the treacle tart (Tony wondered where JARVIS had found that) before they both started down the hall.

Tony had no idea how to be comforting. He was a snarky ass with everyone, and even if he let his guard down with a couple of people, he still went out of his way to avoid emotional moments. How could he help right now? Tony was more fucked up than anyone he knew, what use would he be to his clearly traumatized and understandably guarded kid?

This was probably gonna be a shitshow. Hopefully, he didn’t lose Harry when he inevitably messed this up.

When they finally reached the door, Tony only gave himself a split second to glance back at James’ anxious face before knocking, not allowing himself time to spiral too hard.

“Harry? Can we come in?”

There was a pause, before both men heard a throat clearing and a soft “yeah”. Relieved that the kid hadn’t changed his mind, Tony opened the door and barely kept himself from freezing in surprise.

Harry was sitting on one of the armchairs by the large windows, socked feet tucked cross-legged underneath him as he sat up straight, nerves, shame, and guilt brewing just underneath his calm veneer. What had shocked Tony, however, was the owl sitting on the back of the chair, staring almost … aggressively? at him and James once they’d both stepped into the room and let the door fall shut behind them.

They stared at each other for a moment before Tony spoke.

“So. What's with the bird?”

Harry somehow sat up even straighter, feet coming to rest on the floor as he subtly angled his tense body to be between Tony and the owl.

“This is Hedwig. She followed me here.”

Before Tony could ask more questions (because what? Did the kid think that was a sufficient explanation?) James stepped forward and set down the food he carried on the coffee table in front of Harry. “She followed you all the way from England? She must be very intelligent.” James turned to the ever vigilant owl and spoke directly to her, like the animal could understand. “You’re quite beautiful Hedwig. I’m glad to see my son has such a loyal and capable companion.”

The bird leaned forward and stepped onto Harry’s shoulder as she stared intensely at James. The man waited patiently, seemingly unbothered by what was unquestionably (but bafflingly) an evaluation by a bird. After a moment, Hedwig straightened and gave a soft bark before flying down to rest in Harry’s lap, who kept his tense posture even as he absently began stroking the bird's chest.

James smiled a bit, clearly pleased to have passed the bizarre test and seated himself on the couch nearest to Harry. Tony followed, still eying the bird in confusion as he settled his own plate and offered Harry’s to him.

“So, we brought lunch, but now I’m curious if anyone is going to explain the owl in the room that can understand what we’re saying.”

Seeing that Harry was still extremely uncomfortable, James turned to Tony and explained. 

“Owls are used in the wizarding world to send mail. They have a sensitivity to magic and can find the intended recipients even without an address, and the stronger birds can form deep connections to a wizard or witch they are fond of. Thus, many are kept as pets by wizarding families. Some are more capable than others of course, and it is extremely impressive that Hedwig was able to find Harry across the Atlantic.” Here, he turned to face their son, his expression softly pleased. “I can sense your connection in your magic, Harry. You two seem very well matched.”

Despite his persistent discomfort, Harry gave a small, tight smile at the comment. “She’s been with me ever since Hagrid gave her to me on my eleventh birthday. She was my first friend.”

Tony blew out a breath at that, keeping his expression the same but internally mourning his son’s childhood without a single friend. The noise drew the attention of both child and bird, however, and Harry gained a bit more tension in his face.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you before, but would it be alright if she stayed here?" He was talking almost in a rush, despite clearly trying to appear in control. "She’s quite self sufficient and tidy, and I’ll clean her cage regularly. She can hunt for her own food and she never has to leave this room if you’d prefer.” He gave an apologetic glance down at the creature as she nuzzled his hand, mumbling the next part. “She’s used to spending her summers locked up with me.”

Goddamnit, this kid was trying to kill him with the (unintentional, but no less powerful) puppy dog eyes, wasn't he?

Tony crossed one leg over the other, giving the kid a bright smile to hopefully ease his anxiety. "Of course she can stay, kid." He turned to the owl. He'd done weirder things than speak to a bird, he supposed. "I never was one for pets, but you seem smart and not likely to tear up my furniture. Besides, it'll be good for Birdbrain out there to have a friend." Looking back at Harry, he let some of the cavalier attitude drop. It was important that Harry knew the truth in his next words. "I wouldn't separate you from someone you love."

Harry’s eyes widened, surprise dominating the emotions swirling there before he ducked his head, nodding and offering a quiet "thank you" as he continued petting Hedwig's plumage.

After a moment, Tony leaned forward and grabbed his plate. "I wasn't sure what you liked, other than treacle tart, so we got you a bit of everything." He took a bite of his sandwich, settling back in his seat and trying not to glance over at Harry when he heard the kid slowly reach out for the plate that had been left on the coffee table in front of him.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, James obviously trying to keep himself from staring at their son just as much as Tony was, and nibbled at their food. Tony didn’t really taste what he was eating as he tried to sneak a look to see what Harry chose to snack on. He knew that Remus told them to wait for Harry to start the conversation, but god, Tony hated the quiet. Finally, right before Tony went absolutely crazy from the rigid silence, the tension in the air was shattered by Harry’s guarded, wary voice.

"I'm sorry."

James seemed ready to burst with how quickly he leaned forward to respond, but Tony beat him to it.

"Why are you sorry, kiddo?"

Harry braced himself a bit more as he put down his plate, the apprehensive confusion clear in his drawn brows.

"For earlier." His tone made it clear he thought the answer was obvious. "I overreacted, lost control of my magic, and put everyone in danger."

Jeez, was this how Rhodey and Pepper felt when they tried to tell him that shit wasn't always his fault? Tony was pretty sure he owed them each a sports car if he was causing them this much heartache. He made sure his face was open and calm before speaking.

"You didn't hurt anyone, Harry. You have nothing to apologize for."

“You aren't angry?”

James met their son’s eyes with a strange combination of gentle affection and intense earnestness. “No Harry, we aren’t upset with you. Just worried about how you’re feeling, and what we can do to help.”

The kid’s brow furrowed, gaze flicking toward Tony like he expected him to make sense of this.

“He’s right, cucciolino, no harm done. Besides, I’m all for a dramatic exit.”

Fucking hell. Tony knew he was going to fuck this up because he couldn’t think before speaking. Why the fuck would he say that?

Harry cringed a bit, not backing down from their gaze but clearly bracing himself from some sort of reprisal. "I could have seriously hurt someone. I held you all immobile against your will. I drew a knife on your friend. I kicked you out when you tried to help me." He shook his head, and gave a bitter, self-loathing sort of grin that made the rope he had around Tony’s heart pull taut. "You don't need to lie and tell me that it's okay to do any of that. I know what I am. I was born to be a weapon against Voldemort. It's why everyone has been so afraid of me my whole life. And a weapon that can think for itself is dangerous, but a weapon with a broken mind is a disaster waiting to happen." Here, Harry lost his look of dark humor. His shoulders curled inward a little bit even as his eyes gained a sort of resigned determination. "Don't feel like you need to keep me here out of pity or obligation. You didn't sign on for this. I understand if you'd rather I left."

Tony was almost surprised by the rage that Harry's sentiment inspired in him. It took every ounce of self control he had not to start screaming, even as he spoke through clenched teeth. James had stilled completely outside of the clenching and unclenching of the fist he had settled on the couch cushion, hidden from Harry’s view by his leg.

"You are not a weapon, Harry. Whoever made you think so is a stupid asshole." He took a deep breath, trying to calm down so he didn't make Harry think he was upset with him. "You are a kid, Harry. A kid who's been through a shitload of trauma and understandably has some strong reactions to things that remind you of past pain."

His son was staring back at him, seeming almost angry.

"There is no excuse for hurting someone else. Losing control like that is not okay."

Tony sighed, still holding eye contact with his kid.

“You’re right.”

James whipped his head around to face him, shock and anger clear even at the edges of Tony’s gaze that hadn’t moved from Harry’s face. Before James could eviscerate him or Harry’s expression could close off even further than it had at the words, Tony continued.

“It’s not okay to lose control in a way that could hurt others. But the fact that it happened doesn’t mean you did something wrong.” He leaned forward, trying to put all of his understanding and empathy and reassurance in his gaze (the whole emotional honesty thing was super new to Tony, so he didn’t know if the expression came across right, but he hoped it did the trick).

Remembering Remus’s words, Tony braced himself internally for this next bit. There were some things he had always kept shoved deep that he’d have to bring out now to reassure the kid. But Harry was worth it, so he let out a breath and started again. “Look, I make jokes and quips and things, but I need you to know that I understand why you reacted like you did this morning.” It was a struggle to keep meeting the kid’s eyes while he shared this, but he couldn’t preach self-forgiveness and asking for help if he was wallowing in his own shame. “Once, after Afghanistan, I was sitting in the living room with Rhodey at my place in Malibu, and we were talking. It had been a bad day, I was super anxious after having some nightmares the night before, but I didn’t tell him. I just wanted to seem like I had it all together, you know? I didn’t want him to see the parts of me that felt like they’d been broken by everything that had happened.” He ached to see Harry’s hands still in his lap for a moment, no doubt understanding just what Tony meant. “Anyway, Rhodey went to get up, I forget why, but he tripped. He tried to catch himself and his hand landed on my chest, right next to the arc reactor.”

Tony cleared his throat, looking away briefly before he was able to force his gaze to Harry once again. He could see James’ expression screwed up into something that made his heart clench, but he couldn’t focus on that right then. “I didn’t even think before I swung a fist at him. I moved on instinct, and I broke his nose. When his hand hit my chest, I was convinced I was back in the cave and someone was digging around in my ribcage and I was scared and in pain and I just had to get them out.” 

Harry had leaned forward in his seat, his eyebrow furrow no longer conveying frustration and confusion, but concern. His hand made an aborted movement by his thigh, flicking forward for a moment like he wanted to reach out to Tony somehow. Like maybe he wanted to provide comfort but wasn’t sure how.

Tony had never related to anything more, and wasn’t that a fucked up inheritance to give his kid? Pain and uncertainty?

Tony gave a rueful smile. “I know how much it sucks being triggered like that, how it feels like you’re out of control and a danger to people, like you’re broken somehow and unfixable. At least, that’s what I felt.” He felt the intensity rising on his face as he continued. “But none of that was true, kiddo. Not for me and definitely not for you. That shit is just lies your brain tells you in the moment when you’re hurting and scared. You’re right that it’s not okay to hurt people, and I never ever wanted to cause my brother any more pain, so I finally put on my big boy pants and stopped avoiding all the shit I had gone through."

Harry’s eyes had gotten a bit wet, and his shoulders had tensed up so much that Tony's neck ached in sympathy. He tried to say the next part gently. “I didn’t start getting better until I started talking about it with someone I trusted.” Harry’s eyes widened, a bit of panic shining plainly there. He sucked in an inaudible breath while he stared at Tony, arms coming around Hedwig who had moved back to his lap as if sensing his need for comfort.

Tony felt like a pile of shit for how he was making the kid afraid, but the only way past all this shit was through it, right? Was he really doing the right thing? Tony reached out, grabbing James’ hand to ground himself as he glanced at the man.

James had fresh tears on his face, and the nearly crushing grip on Tony’s hand made his grief known. But there was pride and gratitude all over his face that made Tony let out a breath and untighten his shoulders a bit. He was so scared of fucking this up, when his kid needed so much help, but seeing James urge him on gave him a bit of confidence as he turned back to Harry.

“We both care about you so much, piccolino. We’re always here if you want to talk.”

James spoke up beside him, still clenching Tony’s hand but leaning toward Harry with that intensely soft openness from before. “Whatever you need, darling. Whenever you’re ready.”

Harry’s breath seemed to catch in his throat as he stared back at each of them. He hadn’t shed the tears that had gathered in his eyes, but his lips had pressed firmly together from the effort of holding back his emotions. Tony waited, feeling like he’d offered his son a hand as he dangled off the edge of a cliff. He could only hope the kid took it, because Tony would be damned if he ever let Harry fall like he had.

After what felt like an eternity, Harry forcefully let out a breath Tony hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Their brave kid looked them straight in the eye.

“Okay.”