Fight or Flight
CHAPTER 3: FIGHT OR FLIGHT
Pepper worked very fast. The very next day, Tony had the papers deeming him the father of one Harry James Stark. She wasn’t above using money and power to grant them, specifically Tony custodial rights. In her defense, she had been waiting for this moment for quite some time. She wasn’t always aware of Harry’s existence— only ever finding out her boss has a son when she discovered Tony drunk and depressed during Harry’s first birthday. It pains her knowing how much Tony would have loved being a father to Harry if it weren’t for Obie hanging over his shoulder. She really thought Tony would reach out to the Potters after Obie’s death. When he didn’t, Pepper hadn’t questioned him. Maybe she should have. Maybe then Harry wouldn’t be left an orphan.
While Pepper had the legal matters in order, Tony looked into every news and material he can find regarding the Potters, their deaths, and Harry’s living situation. He wondered why he hadn’t heard the news of Lily and James’s deaths before, especially when he remembers putting an alert on Harry’s name. And then he wondered whether Obie had something to do with their deaths, but quickly dismissed the thought. Lily and James’s deaths weren’t in any way helpful to Obie’s plan.
In a small town of Godric’s Hollow where the Potters used to live, road accidents such as the one that killed Lily and James weren’t often reported in their national news. The most Tony could find from their accident was two newspaper articles, a local tv station report, and an obituary. It wasn’t much but it painted a picture of tragedy and loss. Harry wasn’t mentioned in any of the articles considering he’s a minor, which was possibly why Tony wasn’t alerted in the first place.
It was easy tracking Harry’s whereabouts. For four years, the little boy had been living with the Dursleys. From what he and JARVIS discovered, Harry was either a very picky and sickly kid or he was neglected. The few pictures he could find of Harry were a far cry from the chubby, giggling mess of a 1-year-old in his wallet. His son was abnormally thin, sporting bags under his tired young eyes, and wearing shirts three times his size the least at every photo. It took everything in Tony not to fly to England in his suit and pulverize the people that hurt his son.
He hadn’t spoken to the team since Steve came down to his lab yesterday. Clint tried to crawl his way through the vents a couple of times but he was constantly blocked by JARVIS. Steve probably came knocking on his door more times than he can count. JARVIS told him Steve informed the team that Tony wasn’t feeling well but didn’t say anything beyond that. It was almost enough for Tony to open the door for Steve.
Almost.
He couldn’t afford to waste time right now. He can very well talk to his friends after all these are pushed through. The jet is prepped for his flight in a few hours and he needed every bit of detail and documents to make sure nothing goes wrong. He didn’t need kidnapping a child added to his long file.
Amidst all the chaos in his lab, the 5-year-old stuffed lion is staring at him from the desk. He had to dig it up from his office-turned-sleeping-quarters last night. It was the one thing he bought for Harry’s first birthday, and he never got to send it.
Happy arrived around ten but Tony was already packed and ready to go by nine. He’s got all the documents in one case, a change of clothing and toiletries in another, and Harry’s stuffed animal neatly wrapped up inside a gift bag. It was time to go.
The long flight granted him a moment to dwell on the recent events. This time yesterday, Tony’s biggest worry was not having enough coffee left on his third cup of the morning. Everything happened so fast and all Tony could think about was bringing Harry home. He didn’t have the luxury to second-guess his capability to take care of a child. He always knew he had a son—but it’s different knowing it and actually doing something about it. Tony probably played this exact scene a thousand times before in his mind. Back when he first thought of reaching out to the Potters, he wondered if Harry would recognize him. Will he like Tony? Will Lily and James allow him to be a part of their family’s lives? Will he be like some sort of fun uncle to Harry?
Those queries all seemed shallow now. Instead of worrying whether Harry will like him or not, Tony worried whether Harry had eaten anything during the day. Instead of worrying about how many expensive gifts he should bring, Tony thought about the possibility that his son never even received one for the past 4 years. The guilt at the back of his mind banged and banged against the wall he built around it. It wasn’t the right time to think about himself and his zero self-worth.
The plane landed only minutes after eight UK-time. Tony and Happy quickly checked into the best hotel in Surrey and drove off to the town of Little Whinging. He didn’t want to waste any more minute, because each passing second might mean another second of pain and hunger to his son.
The houses in Privet Drive depicted the horrors of smalltown suburbia. All the houses look exactly alike, dull and boring. The lawns and the hedges are maintained well enough to be shown off to neighbors but distasteful when one really looks at them. He shudders when he realized this is where Harry lived for years. Suburbia is no place for a Stark.
Despite his impatience to take his son home once and for all, Tony allowed Happy to do the initial talking. It might be a small town in England, but even in a small town like Little Whinging can recognize the face of one of the richest men in America. That, and Tony barely had the capacity to resist punching first then ask later.
Instead, he listened to Happy introduce himself as the representative of the biological father of one Harry James Potter, and that no, he didn’t believe Lily Potter was a common “whore”. The woman, Petunia Dursley, screamed at Happy to leave at once before yelling for her husband for backup. The man was almost twice bigger than Happy but it seemed to concentrate more on his stomach than any other part of his body. He kept insisting they have no such boy living within their perfect home— that whoever he worked for must have been tricked by her horrid dead sister-in-law, and Tony just about had enough that he stepped into view from the side and smashed the door open.
But even the banging of the door couldn’t prevent Tony from hearing the muffled gasp and thump from inside the small space under the stairs. He wished, Christ, he wished he misheard it. Because if he didn’t then that meant Harry was inside that dead-bolted space equipped with a barred hole like some sort of prison.
One look at the Dursley’s frightened expressions, he knew. All the blood in his veins turned cold as he remembered the times his own father locked him inside the storage rooms of the mansion because he made too much noise. The very thing that scared Tony he’ll do to his son was happening regardless.
It was all his fault.
For all his bravado and determination, nothing prepared Tony Stark for the sight of his son crying silently, crouched inside a tiny cupboard. It wasn’t hard to figure out it was Harry’s room, judging by the small, threadbare mattress on the floor, the few neatly folded clothes on the shelf mixed with random things, and most especially, the crayon-written cardboard sign hanging above the shelf saying “HarRy’s RoOm”. It was difficult for Tony to comprehend how his son had spent years living under a small closet space under the stairs, when he deserved the biggest room inside the most expensive penthouse in New York. Tony’s already broken heart broke again exponentially. Behind him, Happy had Mr. and Mrs. Dursley scared enough to remain quiet. He was hyperaware of everything that is happening around him but at the same time couldn’t focus on anything apart from the little boy in front of him.
And with a croaked voice, he called, “Harry…”
A pair of eyes snapped wide open, revealing a majestic shade of emerald green.
“W-who’r you?” Harry asked in a small voice as if fearing the possible repercussions for talking in the first place.
That’s the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? Who was he?
A billionaire? Yes.
A superhero? Sometimes.
An asshole who people love to hate? Most days.
But a father? He wishes he can be.
He didn’t have enough time to explain— not with the Dursleys only a few feet away. He needed to get Harry out of here.
“My name is Tony,” he responded just as softly, even though the rage inside him was bubbling. “I’m here to take you home.”
Green eyes peered at him wider now. The fear in there slowly turned to curiosity. The tiny arms that wrapped around equally tiny folded legs loosened up considerably. “Home?” Harry asked. “Where?”
Tony nodded once. “Home. In New York. I promise to keep you safe. Do you want to come with me?”
“Yes.”