“You’re my hero.”
Monday, September 17
“You swear you’ll be here in the morning?” Harry asked again.
Sirius laughed before he flipped the footrest of his recliner up and gave Harry a cheeky salute.
“Kiddo, I’ve got no where else I’d rather be,” he said.
Harry grinned against his will at the earnest smile on Sirius’ face and the light in his eyes that Harry had never seen before.
“No murders, no running off to London,” Harry warned him as he backed out of Sirius’ relatively unfurnished sitting room toward the lifts. “Swear it, Padfoot.”
Sirius had his hands behind his head and his eyes closed, the perfect image of a content and free man.
“Goodnight, Harry,” he sang. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Harry’s grin grew to a full blown smile as he moved from the flat Sirius was sharing with Thor back up to his and Tony’s flat.
Free.
Sirius was free.
He didn’t have to use Polyjuice or hide as a dog anymore, not as long as he stayed in America and didn’t commit any crimes.
Free.
Harry’s smile slipped a bit when he saw Tony’s lab door closed and the light on beneath it. He shrugged it off easily though and went to call Ron and Hermione.
Free.
“That’s brilliant!” Hermione squealed. “Ooh, Harry! I’m so happy for you!”
“Thanks,” Harry was beaming after filling Hermione in. “Where’s Ron?”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Quidditch,” she said shortly. “Angelina has them training every day for their first match.”
“Oh.” Harry’s stomach clenched uncomfortably, but he pushed past it to keep his cheer up. He’d rather have Sirius than Quidditch anyway. “Well what else is new? Have they found a new Professor for defense?”
“Yes and oh my god, guess who it is? The real Professor Moody!” Hermione said in a rush. “And he’s insane, Harry!” Hermione lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned closer to her phone screen, “I don’t think Crouch really had to act much! They’re both entirely mad!”
Harry forced a laugh, but the reminder of the professor that entered him in the tournament, delivered him to Voldemort, and then tried to kill Harry himself was an unpleasant topic.
“What do you think this means for the Order?” Hermione asked quickly, spotting the lines forming between Harry’s eyebrows.
Harry scoffed, “I don’t think Sirius gives a damn. Tony and his team’ll probably find Voldemort before Dumbledore does.”
Tony had been able to clear Sirius’ name in a single day, something Dumbledore hadn’t been able to do in the two years Sirius had been loose for. Once they caught Tony’s odd evil robot bloke, Harry was certain they’d find Voldemort and then Harry could help vanquish him and everything would work out fine.
Harry could be the son that Tony deserved, Sirius could be free, they’d all live together and Azkaban and Voldemort and evil robots would be a problem in the past.
Hermione smiled at Harry’s swift confidence in his dad’s abilities.
As soon as they hung up, with Hermione promising to fill Ron in as soon as he got back from quidditch, Harry text Peter.
Google needs an update.
Oh yeah?
It should say ‘Sirius Black, wrongfully convicted and officially pardoned’.
LOL! That’s awesome!
Harry chewed his lower lip and tried to find a tactful and subtle way to ask if Peter wanted to do something the next day… Peter swore he hadn’t been avoiding Harry before, when Harry first got home. And since Peter had a tendency for sneaking out, Harry was inclined to believe him.
It didn’t hurt that Peter came over the instant Harry called him the other night either.
Got plans tomorrow?
Nope. I’m as free as your hot god dad is.
Harry rolled his eyes, it was a gross joke that didn’t get any funnier the more he heard it. Gwen had shit taste in blokes if she found Sirius and Tony attractive.
Maybe we could do something? Harry typed hopefully. He held his breath while Peter replied, mentally begging him to not brush him off.
Cool, will you be at school in the morning?
No idea. Maybe.
If so, tell your dad we’ll study together after school. If not, tell him we’re studying anyway and we’ll meet up.
Harry wondered if his day could get any better.
Cool.
Harry faffed around in his room a bit. He carefully laid out an outfit - Tony’s Metallica shirt, the leather jacket that looked like Sirius’, a pair of black trainers, and a pair of jeans - to wear the next day, just in case he did start school. He sent Pepper a photo, asking what she thought.
If anyone cared about Harry’s clothes, it was Pepper. She wouldn’t laugh at his need for reassurance, Pepper thought clothes were a top priority.
You dress like a punk.
Harry smirked and tapped back a quick reply.
Am I a good looking punk though?
Pepper sent back a laughing face and a thumbs up.
A Stark for sure. I miss you, I can’t wait to be back. Tell your dad to stay out of the liquor.
Harry text back a quick agreement, but when he went to check, Tony was still in his lab.
“Er… Jarvis?”
“Yes, Harry?”
Harry hovered uncertainly in the kitchen, tapping the counter in agitation.
“What’s Tony’s favorite food?”
“He orders from Mario’s the most often.”
Harry tried to remember which place that was, Italian, he thought. It sounded Italian, anyway.
“Can you order food from there?” Harry asked Jarvis. “Just whatever he usually gets and I’ll just take the same thing. Oh,” Harry paused, unsure if Thor had any food in his flat, “can you make it like three orders of whatever? So I can bring Sirius some?”
Jarvis sounded upbeat when he agreed and Harry nodded decisively to himself. Everyone liked food. And if Tony was busy, then Harry could just do something nice for him like Tony did for Sirius.
Not that ordering dinner was really the same as clearing away a wrongful conviction, but Harry would figure out a way to do something better later.
Except Tony still hadn’t left his lab by the time food was delivered and Harry dropped some off for Sirius.
Harry sat at the kitchen counter and poked at his food rather than eating it as nerves seized him. Jarvis had said he told Tony that dinner was done, but he never came out. And Harry knew his work was important, Tony was a fucking superhero on top of owning a business so huge that Harry couldn’t properly wrap his mind around it. But… but before Harry went to Hogwarts it had been a sort of rule that Harry ate meals with Tony. And when it was just the two of them, they weren’t even bad times.
Clearly something had changed.
Maybe Tony was too busy? Or he didn’t want to? He could have realized that Harry wasn’t a great person to call a son. He hadn’t seemed mad about the mess over the weekend, and Peter and Pietro helped Harry clean up quickly after Tony returned, but… maybe he was pissed?
Or… Harry’s stomach lurched and he thought he might truly be sick… or now that Sirius was free, maybe Tony didn’t want to bother with Harry. Maybe he figured Harry would go back to being Sirius’ burden.
Maybe he hoped Harry would get the hint and leave him alone.
Harry swallowed harshly and pushed his food away. He got up and carefully stuck Tony’s food in the fridge and made sure he cleaned up after himself, not leaving so much as a crumb behind him.
Sure, Tony had talked about Harry staying forever and them being a family, but that was before. Before he knew Harry was a wizard, before he got to know Harry, before he felt Harry had to be rescued from school, and before he’d seen that Harry had gotten himself scarred by his teacher.
It made sense that Tony would be ready to sign Harry over to Sirius. Dumbledore signed Harry over to Aunt Petunia, Aunt Petunia signed Harry over to Tony. What was another surprise relocation? At least Sirius would want Harry around.
Sirius sent you here in the first place, a nasty voice reminded Harry when he finished cleaning up and began debating what to do. He’d been close to going back to Sirius’ flat and bothering him, but that reminder of Sirius shipping Harry away was like a cold knife in his heart.
Harry could have laughed.
Nobody wanted him. And why would they? Harry failed as a wizard, he was failing as a son, he was just… just fucking failing.
The flat suddenly felt suffocating in its silence and its isolation.
Harry snagged a jacket and his earbuds quickly and then clipped Joey on his lead and slipped away, desperately needing air.
Harry hummed along to a song as he wandered around the city aimlessly. He could get as lost as he wanted, really, because Jarvis had never failed Harry on directions home before.
Was it still Harry’s home though? Tony had talked about spending the holidays together, but had that changed since he surely knew what kind of person Harry was now?
It had probably been a mistake on Harry’s part to get so attached to their home and Tony himself. Who knew better than Harry how quickly people could change their minds about someone?
Harry tried to not think about it. There was nothing he could do if Tony didn’t want Harry around anymore, Harry couldn’t force people to be around him and he didn’t blame them if they didn’t want to.
Harry didn’t want to be around himself most of the time, why should he force his presence on others?
Walking around was a decent enough distraction anyway. Harry and Peter had tended to avoid the busier section when they were on their skateboards, but that was the direction Harry and Joey walked.
The sky was dark, but the city was so lit up that Harry didn’t have any trouble navigating the sidewalks. Joey kept barking and chasing after stray cats and pigeons, but Harry kept a firm hold on his leash. Or, he had, until Joey yanked especially hard and Harry stumbled and the leash slipped from his hand.
“Joey!” Harry yelled at his dog and began running down the sidewalk, weaving in and out of the people still out and about. Joey ignored Harry, his ears standing straight up as he pursued the mangy looking cat with singleminded focus.
Harry swore and put a burst of speed forward, desperate to keep Joey from becoming just another one of the many ‘Missing Dog’ posters that littered the light posts.
Joey turned right, chasing the cat in an alley, and Harry let out a relieved breath when the alley had a dead end. The cat leapt up on the dumpster at the end of the alley, hissing at Joey out of his reach, and Harry lunged for the leash.
“Gotcha!” he cried. Harry scowled down at Joey and pointed at him seriously. “Don’t do that again,” he scolded him. “You could have been hit by a car.”
Joey whined and tucked his tail between his legs until Harry scratched his ears.
“I’m not mad,” he murmured. “Just- just be smarter, buddy.”
As much as everyone swore Joey couldn’t understand Harry, he did bark softly in a way that sounded like an agreement. And he stayed right beside Harry’s legs when Harry got to his feet and turned to get out of the filthy and gross smelling alley they’d been in.
Except… Harry straightened up and ground his back teeth together… there were a few blokes standing around the mouth of the alleyway that weren’t talking, just standing there, watching him.
The hairs on the back of Harry’s neck stood up and he adopted a carefully blank and passive face. It was his ‘please don’t notice me’ face most used in potions.
Joey stayed obediently beside Harry as they slowly moved to exit the alley and Harry cursed himself silently for not grabbing his little silver weapon or one of the knives Clint and Psycho got him for his birthday. He’d been so desperate to escape the house, to get some air, he didn’t even consider the danger of wandering about the city with only a dog and a cell phone for back up.
Nothing for it, Harry kept his shoulders square and tried to look ten years older than he was as he approached the blokes blocking his exit.
“Excuse me,” Harry said clearly and politely, averting his eyes from the faces of the much older blokes.
“Where’s the rush?” One of them shifted, purposefully blocking Harry’s escape, and smiled sharply. He was older, probably about thirty, and smelled like the sweat staining his shirt collar and something stale. His mates shifted and Harry didn’t have to look to know that he was surrounded. Joey started growling and the fur was standing straight up on his neck.
Harry shifted to the left, the bloke mirrored him.
“My friends are waiting for me,” Harry lied smoothly.
One of the men behind Harry chuckled.
“You looked alone to us,” he jeered in an oily voice that had Harry cringing.
“That’s a nice watch,” another one said abruptly from Harry’s right hand side. Harry glanced at the watch and scowled. It was one Bruce got him for his birthday, maybe it was worth bargaining with.
“Brilliant, you can have it if you get the fuck out of my way,” Harry said with a dismissive glance toward the bloke who mentioned it.
“Mm, no…” The one in front of Harry stepped closer and Harry backed up, only to bump into the one behind him who shoved him forward and had Joey barking.
“You look familiar,” the man said. He reached up for Harry’s face and Harry reared his head back and bared his teeth in a snarl.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” he snapped. Harry’s blood was racing along to the speed of which his heart hammered. He was such an idiot, every bit as impulsive and stupid as everyone had always accused him of being. Why would he go wandering around without anything more than a cell phone he couldn't even grab without being seen?
Joey had apparently become infected with Harry’s impulsivity because when the man lifted his hand again, a sneer twisting his features, Joey leapt forward with teeth snapping and clamped down hard on the man’s legs.
The man yelled and Harry had to wrench his arms away when the bloke behind him grabbed them. Harry lunged for Joey, but the man kicked him and sent him flying into the cement wall with droplets of his own blood following. Joey hit the wall and slumped with a whine and Harry hissed beneath his breath at their god damned audacity.
“Stupid fucking dog,” the man growled before refocusing on Harry. He shoved Harry hard in the chest, sending him to the ground in a huff. Harry went to jump up, refusing to take a beating from the ground, but the one from the left kicked Harry hard in the ribs and knocked the wind from his lungs.
Harry struggled to snatch his watch off his wrist and toss it as far as he could, hoping one of them would take the bait. “Take it,” he rasped. “Just fucking take it.”
“Nah.” The man chuckled while Harry rolled on his side pushing himself up as best he could.
“I remember where I saw you before,” the man chuckled as he peered in Harry’s eyes with his own hazy and dark ones. “You were in the papers, Tony Stark’s kid, right?”
Harry debated on which way it could go - on the one hand, Iron Man was a deadly muggle machine. On the other hand, these blokes might think Harry was worth a lot more money than he was.
“Mm, we’re on the outs,” Harry said evasively. His eyes darted around, trying to find an opening as the men crowded him. “Afraid I’m not worth much ransom, you see.”
“Yeah?” The muggle smiled again, his teeth looking yellowed and crooked in the dim alley. “I find that hard to believe.”
Harry wasn’t able to so much as duck before the bloke’s hand came flying at his face, backhanding him and sending him to the side.
“I said don’t fucking touch me!” Harry swung wildly at the bloke, aiming for his face and hitting his shoulder. One of them grabbed Harry’s wrist and Harry made the mistake of kicking out behind him and got knocked back to the ground for his efforts.
Harry spat a mouthful of blood and saliva at one of them and grunted at the force of which he got kicked in the hip. He fell on his side and someone kicked Harry in the head hard enough that he saw stars and everything was swimming in slow motion.
He was pretty sure he was going to be murdered, or beaten pretty close to death anyway, but then one of the top oddest things to happen to Harry occurred.
Just as one bloke yanked Harry’s hair, pulling his face up, with a fist poised to strike- something shot down from the sky and yanked the man flying through the air and over to the rooftop of the building beside them.
“What the f—”
Something else, something white and rope-like, flew through the air and yanked another man away.
Harry glanced toward where Joey lay in a pathetic slump, his breath freezing in his throat until he saw Joey’s chest move, and by the time he turned back, only the leader of the gang of men remained. He had both his fists raised and was yelling names that Harry couldn’t make out through the ringing in his ears.
Then, suddenly, something - someone - did a spectacular flip from the rooftop where the men had been yanked to and landed directly between Harry and the man.
“You picked a real bad time to pick a fight,” the new guy said in a raspy and deep voice that was either fake or a horrible genetic curse.
“Who the fuck are you?” the man asked. He didn’t seem to want to wait for an answer because he pulled a fist back to swing at the new guy and Harry couldn’t even try to get on his feet before the new guy shot something at him, the same weird white rope thing, and encased his fist in it.
“Whoops, try the other fist,” the new guy said mockingly. He had a black stocking cap covering his head and all Harry could make out from the back was a dark jacket and a pair of equally dark jeans.
Harry tried to push up and get to his feet, but his head spun and he fell right back down.
The new guy turned to look at Harry and Harry suddenly wondered if he’d been knocked hard enough to begin seeing things…
Was this bloke wearing a red mask or did he have red skin?
“Oh, you look like shit,” the guy said softly. He didn’t even look when the other bloke decided to swing at him with his free hand, he just pointed over his shoulder and smacked his hand with the rope thing hard enough to stick him to the opposite wall. One more shot covered the bloke’s mouth, masking his shouts into utter silence.
Harry blinked and used the brick wall behind him to grasp on to, dragging himself on unsteady feet, and shook his spinning head while he and the new bloke stared at each other.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” Harry blurted after having no idea what was going on. It was a red mask of some sort with the black stocking cap on top of it, then paired with pitch black sunglasses even though it was dark outside. If it weren’t for the jeans and jacket, Harry would almost take the mask as some superhero thing like Tony’s friends wore, but…
But what the fuck was going on?
“Oh, hey, uh… don’t move,” the guy said quickly, offering Harry a hand that Harry leaned away from. “Man, you’re like… all busted.”
It took Harry a moment to realize that wasn’t an insult, but probably an accurate statement about his face.
“Fuck,” the guy swore loudly. He spun around and pointed at the guy stuck to the wall, “I’m going to fucking kill you!”
The man’s eyes widened, but Harry had a different and more pressing concern.
“My dog,” Harry said, once more looking toward Joey.
“Shit.” The guy jumped quickly over to Joey and Harry didn’t exactly want him to go grabbing him, but he wasn’t likely to win a fight with a guy shooting something from his wrists.
The guy was gentle when he grabbed Joey and cuddled him in his arms. He put his ear, or where his ear would be, against Joey’s back, and his shoulders relaxed at whatever he heard.
“I’m not a vet, but I think he’s alright,” the guy said. He carried Joey over to Harry and Harry was able to see Joey’s big sad eyes filled with tears.
Harry knew he was fucked up, his face stung and he wasn’t even able to breathe properly, but it wasn’t until he saw Joey’s eyes all watery - like Joey thought he let Harry down somehow - that Harry felt a burning sensation in his own eyes.
“Joey…” Harry said, his voice thick and raspy. He reached out for his dog and the masked bloke kept a hold of him while Harry tugged Joey in his own arms to pet him soothingly. “It’s okay, buddy,” he whispered. “You did good, real good.”
“Hey, you should call your dad or something,” the guy said in his deep voice. “Maybe go to the hospital, get checked out?”
Harry nodded absently as he held Joey against himself and pet his fur gently.
“Harry, hey.” Harry’s head snapped up at the use of his first name (apparently he was really recognizable as Tony’s son), and the mask guy seemed to be radiating a peculiar sense of concern.
“Call your dad,” the guy said quietly, his voice familiar for a moment. It was probably the concussion Harry was sure he had doing his thinking, but Harry thought that the guy probably had brown eyes.
Which was a mad thought and proof that Harry had been knocked about a bit too hard.
The guy sighed and held Joey with one arm as the other quickly and swiftly yanked Harry’s cell phone from his pocket.
“Sorry,” he said when Harry frowned at the invasion. “But you don’t really seem to understand what I’m saying.”
That was fair, because Harry had no idea what was going on. In fact, Harry couldn’t think of a real good reason why he was standing, and he slowly sunk back to the ground, pulling Joey and the masked guy with him.
“Hello? Mister Stark?”
Sounds were hard to understand and Harry leaned forward, resting his face in Joey’s fur with his eyes closed. The stars he’d seen earlier were back and he let them dance in the black space behind his eyelids freely.
“Hey! No, stay awake!”
Harry moaned disconcertedly when someone rapped on his shoulder, sending a small shiver down his back that jostled every bruise he was certain he’d have by morning.
“Harry, hey, your dad’s going to be here real soon. I- fuck… I shouldn’t be here when he gets here.”
Harry lifted his face and blinked away the tears blurring his vision, only to realize it was still blurred.
“My dad?” Harry repeated, the words not really making sense.
Where the guy’s mouth should be twitched, like he was smiling. He slid Harry’s phone back in his jacket pocket and his fingers lingered on Harry’s wrist for a moment.
“Yeah, and he sounded pissed, so I’m going to go deal with our new friends and you go home, okay?”
Harry felt like there was a disconnect between his brain and his tongue, because his tongue was working without Harry’s permission.
“You’re my hero,” Harry said, sounding slurred even to his own ears.
The guy didn’t laugh, but his missing mouth did another twitch.
“Tell me that when you’re not rocking a concussion,” he said. “See you later.”
Harry leaned back against the brick wall and kept his eyes open while the guy shot a rope thing at the bloke against the wall and then…
Then he climbed the wall with just his fingertips and drug the guy up with him, his head bouncing harshly against the wall all the while.
As soon as they disappeared, Harry groaned and bent his face forward, breathing in Joey’s dog scent and letting his fur hide his face.
It wasn’t Harry’s first concussion, but fuck if it didn’t feel shitty anyway.