And So It Begins ...
Jolene Strange & The War of the Worlds
Disclaimer: As always, see previous chapters.
Rating: T
Genre: Family | Drama | Hurt/Comfort | Emotional Hurt/Comfort | Romance | Action/Adventure
Pairings: IronStrange | Romione | PotterStrange (Harry/Jolene)
Lyrics Used: Gabby Barrett – “The Good Ones” (Wedding Version)
And So It Begins...
“Who’s that?” Stephen Strange gave a voice to the question on his mind as he watched an older-looking gentleman walk toward the Burrow.
“Bloody hell.” George Weasley muttered as he turned away from the tent they’d just set up for the reception. “What’s the Minister of Magic doing here?” He wondered aloud.
Stephen watched the man walk up to the house, knocking on the door. The sorcerer couldn’t put his finger on it but something about the man just made him suspicious. Whatever it was, he knew one thing with absolute certainty: he was not letting that man anywhere near his daughter without being present.
“To what do we owe the pleasure, Minister?” Jolene asked as she, Harry, Hermione, and Ron walked into the kitchen at the Burrow. To anyone who didn’t know her, the greeting sounded perfectly polite. But her friends could hear the carefully guarded tone in her voice. Stephen heard it, too, as he followed the Minister in the door.
“I think we both know the answer to that question, Ms. Strange.” The Minister of Magic drawled, cryptically. Stephen eyed the man suspiciously as the Minister walked toward the teens.
“I’m sorry.” Stephen cut in, cordially. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.” He added, moving to stand in front of his daughter, protectively.
“Rufus Scrimgeour.” The Minister of Magic introduced himself, cordially, extending his hand to the sorcerer. “Minister of Magic. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister…“
“Doctor Stephen Strange.” Stephen introduced himself, shaking Scrimgeour’s proffered hand as he not-so-subtly corrected the Minster’s choice of title.
“My apologies, Doctor.” Scrimgeour corrected himself. “Pleasure.”
“Likewise, Mr. Scrimgeour.” Stephen replied.
“That’s Minister Scrimgeour to you.” Scrimgeour corrected Stephen, sharply.
“My apologies, Minister Scrimgeour.” Stephen amended.
“Now, if you’ll excuse us, Dr. Strange…” Scrimgeour cut in. “…I have some business to attend to that does not concern you.” He added, gesturing toward the teens.
“Perhaps you misunderstand, Minister–“ Stephen was about to educate the wizard on just how much his ‘business matters’ very much didindeed concern him when Jolene cut in.
“Dr. Strange is my father, Minister.” Jolene interjected, completing her father’s thought. “Anything you have to me you can say in front of him.” She added, sharing a small smile with her father.
“Very well, then.” Scrimgeour decided after a moment of silent contemplation. As he looked at the father and daughter, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to separate them.
The six of them moved to the living room. Stephen seated himself in a chair he’d pulled over from the dining room next to the end of the couch that Jolene occupied. Scrimgeour seated himself across from the couch on the other side of the coffee table. Harry wedged himself between Jolene and Hermione with Ron seated on the other side of Hermione. Harry watched as Scrimgeour unfolded a leather pouch on the coffee table. The whole group eyed the pouch, curiously.
“And this is…” Harry trailed off, curiously.
Scrimgeour reacted by pulling a piece of parchment out of his briefcase. The parchment then levitated to hover just to the right of the Minister. They all watched the parchment unfold itself. “Herein is set forth the last will and testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.” Scrimgeour proceeded to read from the parchment. “First, to Ronald Bilius Weasley, I leave my deluminator, a device of my own making, in the hope that, when things seem most dark, it will show him the light.” Scrimgeour paused to hand Ron the aforementioned device.
Ron cautiously took the item from Scrimgeour’s hand. “Dumbledore left this for me?” He wondered, aloud, as he unwrapped the cloth ensconcing the deluminator.
“Yeah.” Scrimgeour replied.
“Brilliant!” Ron admired, quietly. Stephen watched, curiously, as the young wizard flipped the device open, the glowing lights of all the light fixtures in the room floating into the device as it clicked closed. “What is it?” Ron asked, chuckling as the glows flew back out to their original fixtures as he reopened the device. “Wicked!” Ron grinned.
“To Hermione Jean Granger…” Scrimgeour continued on with the reading of Dumbledore’s will. “ … I leave my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, in the hope that she find it entertaining and instructive.” He added, suggestively, as he passed the book to the young witch.
“Mum used to read me those!” Ron smiled, fondly, as he recalled all the times his mother’d read him all the various stories in the book. “’The Wizard and the Hopping Pot’ … ‘Babbitty Rabbitty and the Cackling Stump’!” He grinned. “Oh, come on…” He urged, when nobody else seemed to know what he was talking about. “’Babbitty Rabbitty’!’” Ron repeated, though he still seemed to be the only one familiar with the story. “No?”
After an awkward silence, Scrimgeour continued. “To Harry James Potter … I leave the snitch he caught in his first quidditch game at Hogwarts as a reminder of the rewards of perseverance…” He paused as he unwrapped the cloth ensconcing the snitch. “…and skill.” He finished the thought as he carefully handed the snitch to Harry.
Harry cautiously reached out to take the snitch. Everyone watched with curious fascination as he took the snitch into his hand. Even Scrimgeour seemed to be watching intently which had drawn Stephen’s attention.
Jolene watched Scrimgeour visibly deflate when nothing seemed to happen as Harry touched the cold metal of the snitch. Okay … That was weird. She thought to herself, suspiciously. Why would Scrimgeour care what happened when Harry touched the snitch? She wondered, silently.
“Is that it, then?” Harry finally asked, curiously, when Scrimgeour didn’t pick up where he’d left off as he had done before.
“Not quite.” Scrimgeour replied cryptically. “Dumbledore also left a bequest for Ms. Strange. The Sword of Godric Gryffindor. Unfortunately, the Sword of Gryffindor was not Dumbledore’s to give away.” He advised, gravely. “The Sword may present itself to any worthy Gryffindor. That does not make it that wizard – or witch’s – property.”
“Now just wait a minute.” Stephen interjected. He knew how much Dumbledore had meant to his daughter and he knew what it would mean to her to inherit something from the man. “If Dumbledore left it to Jolene, then, she should be entitled to it!”
“Dad. It’s okay.” Jolene assured her father with a pointed look. “Scrimgeour’s right. The Sword of Gryffindor is sorta like the relics you teach about at Kamar-Taj. It doesn’t actually belong to any one individual. It can and does present itself to any true Gryffindor in a time of great need.” Giving her father a knowing look, she added “But don’t worry … The fact that Dumbledore saw fit to put that in his will tells me everything I need to know.”
“And in any event…” Scrimgeour carried on. “…the Sword is missing.”
“Uh, excuse you?!” Jolene interjected, sounding incensed.
“I don’t know what you’re up to, Mr. Potter, but you can’t fight this war on your own.” Scrimgeour warned, grimly. “He’s too strong.” There was no need to explain who he meant. The look in his eyes and the tone of his voice spoke volumes more than his words.
Even Stephen seemed to know what Scrimgeour was talking about as he turned to the Minister of Magic with a pointed gaze. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing Harry has so many stronger witches and wizards backing him.”
Later That Night
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” Jolene greeted the guests at Bill and Fleur’s wedding reception. “Now, I know you guys didn’t come all this way just to hear me talk. So, I’ll be brief.” Stephen and the crowd all chuckled at the joke.
She really did inherit Tony’s stage presence. Stephen thought to himself as he watched his daughter on the stage. The way she carried herself, her confidence … It was almost like watching her father up there.
“Please join me in welcoming – for the very first time – Mr. and Mrs. Bill Weasley!” The guests all cheered as the bride and groom proceeded to the center of the dance floor. “Now, the bride and groom have – very bravely, I might add – asked me to perform the song they’ve chosen for their first dance as husband and wife.” Jolene smirked, settling herself onto a bench at a piano. “I have no pressure!” The crowd rumbled with chuckles again. “In all seriousness folks, I could not have chosen a more appropriate song for this beautiful couple!” She smiled at Bill and Fleur. “Bill … Fleur … I sincerely hope I can do justice to both you and the beautiful song you’ve chosen!” With that, she began to play a soft, country, melody.
“He’s a phone call to his parents, he’s a Bible by the bed. He’s the t-shirt that I’m wearing, he’s the song stuck in my head. He’s solid and he’s steady like the Allegheny runs. He knows just where he’s goin’ and he’s proud of where he’s from.
One of the good ones. … He’s one of the good ones.”
Stephen watched his daughter singing while the soft piano music filled the air. He’d always loved listening to her sing. Even though the song made him think of Tony, he still smiled as he absently fondled his wedding ring.
Hermione and Ron exchanged anxious, awkward, looks while they listened to the music. Hermione couldn’t help wondering why Ron wasn’t saying anything. Ron was still trying to remember how to breathe after seeing how beautiful she looked.
“A love me like he should one, like he wrote the book one. The kind you find when you don’t even look one. Anybody can be good once. But he’s good all the time. He’s one of the good ones. And he’s all mine.
He’s one of the good ones.”
Harry stood outside the tent as the music floated out toward him. He’d always loved Jolene’s music, too. The snitch Dumbledore had left him hovered over his shoulder. Pocketing the snitch, he drew a steadying breath as he walked into the tent.
“You’ll know him when you see him by the way he looks at me. You’d say he hung the moon, I’d say he hung the galaxy. Nobody does it better, oh, the way he pulls me in. I’ve known a couple bad ones, but they all led me to him. He’s one of the good ones.”
Fleur smiled, warmly, at her husband as he spun her around the dance floor. The war may be raging on all around them. But they would always have this one, perfect, magical, moment where absolutely nothing else mattered. The rest of the world faded away as they swayed to the music.
“A love me like he should one, like he wrote the book one. The kind you find when you don’t even look one. Anybody can be good, once. But he’s good all the time. He’s one of the good ones. And he’s all mine. He’s one of the good ones.”
“She’s quite talented.” Molly told Stephen as she moved to stand next to the sorcerer.
“Yes, she is.” Stephen smiled, proudly, up at his daughter. “She must have gotten it from Tony. At least that’s where she got her creativity.” He shrugged, as his self-deprecation came out to play.
Molly could see the wistful look in Stephen’s eyes as he spoke of his husband and her heart went out to the sorcerer. She couldn’t imagine being separated from Arthur like Stephen was from Tony. “I think she takes after you far more than you realize.” She replied, kindly.
“Yeah.” Stephen scoffed, sadly. “She certainly got my pension for self-sacrifice.” He added bluntly.
Molly sighed empathetically. “She also has a true love and passion for magic.” She offered. “And a true drive to protect and look after others.” She added. “From what I gather … I’d say all those came from you.”
Stephen smirked despite himself. He had to admit the Weasley matriarch had him there … He knew what a complicated relationship Tony had with magic. Although, to be fair, the passion for protecting and looking after others could easily have come from either of them.
“We should all … find us one …”
Hermione and Ron shared an anxious glance as they drifted closer together. Very cautiously, Ron tentatively slipped his hand into Hermione’s, relieved when he felt her hand close around his own. Meanwhile, Harry remained completely oblivious to their interaction as his eyes remained fixated on Jolene. Were she not on stage, singing, he liked to think he would have asked her to dance. At least it was a nice fantasy.
“They’re out there … minus one … Some of the good ones.”
As she sang, Jolene couldn’t help thinking of Harry. But she knew she had to quash those thoughts. She knew no good could ever come of those kinds of thoughts if they were to ever have a shot at defeating Voldemort once and for all.
“Yeah, I got a good one.”
If Jolene noticed the way her eyes locked onto Harry’s she would never say anything about it. Neither would Harry. The crowd all watched the bride and groom twirl around the dance floor as the song played on. No one could deny the love the young couple shared. It was palpable in the air all around them. In a world being ravaged and torn apart by war and hate and violence … Maybe it was good to take this moment to celebrate love.
“A love me like he should one, like he wrote the book one. The kind you find when you don’t even look one. Anybody can be good once. But he’s good all the time. He’s one of the good ones … And he’s all mine.
He’s one of the good ones. … And he’s all mine.”
As the song came to a close, the crowd cheered. “Thanks, you guys! Now … At this time … Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would like to invite the rest of you to join them on the dance floor.” She announced, warmly, before stepping down, off the stage.
“That was beautiful, honey.” Stephen beamed, embracing his daughter, tightly.
“Bloody brilliant!” cheered Ron.
“It was so perfect and beautiful!” added Hermione.
“Absolutely brilliant.” Harry praised.
“Thanks.” Jolene smiled, sheepishly, as she released her father’s embrace.
The guests all danced, and music played as Harry stood alone at the reception. “Hello, Harry!” Luna Lovegood greeted her friend, airily. “I’ve interrupted a deep thought, haven’t I? I can see it growing smaller in your eyes.” She replied, seeing the startled look on his face.
“Of course not.” Harry assured her. “How are you, Luna?”
“Very well.” Luna beamed, holding up her index finger. “Got bitten by a garden gnome only moments ago.” She added as Jolene and Stephen wandered over to join them.
“Uh, gnome saliva’s very beneficial.” Luna’s father chuckled, softly, as he pressed a kiss to his daughter’s head.
“Oh, yeah!” Jolene agreed, eagerly. “I read about that!” She smiled, extending her hand. “I’m Jolene, by the way. Jolene Strange.”
“Xenophilius Lovegood!” Mr. Lovegood smiled as he accepted the proffered hand.
“Gesúndheit!” Stephen smirked.
“Dad!” Jolene interjected, smacking her father’s chest. “Unless you want me to portal you back home, you’re gonna have play nicely with the other parents!” She scolded him, only half-joking. “Please excuse my father’s behavior.” She turned, apologetically, to the Lovegoods. “He’s … for all intents and purposes … a muggle. He’s not as familiar with the wizarding world.”
“A muggle!? How fascinating!” Mr. Lovegood beamed. “Is this your first time in the wizarding world!?”
“While my dad may not have been born a wizard … He’s hardly a stranger to magic.” Jolene jumped in to stop her father from saying anything else that could come across as offensive. “A traumatic car accident years ago ended his career in neurosurgery and forced him to make several major lifestyle changes – including a trip to muggle Kathmandu, where he discovered the mystic arts, and he ultimately became known as The Sorcerer Supreme: one of the muggle world’s greatest defenders.” She elaborated, proudly.
“Very impressive, Mr. Strange!” Xenophilius admired.
“Doctor Strange.” Stephen corrected.
After a brief, awkward, silence, Xenophilius shook his head slightly before turning back to Harry. “We live just over the hill.” He told Harry, trying to change the subject.
“Pleasure to meet you, sir.” Harry smiled, politely, shaking Mr. Lovegood’s hand.
“I trust you know, Mr. Potter, that we at The Quibbler fully supported Dumbledore in his lifetime and, in his death, support you just as fully.” Jolene and Stephen shared strange looks while Xenophilius stepped into Harry’s personal space to whisper in his ear. Though Jolene’s attention was captured by Mr. Lovegood’s unique pendant – a triangle with a straight line down the center with a circle around the line within the triangle. Harry was studying the pendant as well as it was all but shoved into his face while Mr. Lovegood whispered in his ear.
“Thank you.” Harry muttered, awkwardly.
“Come, Daddy.” Luna told her father. “Harry doesn’t want to talk to us, right now. He’s just too polite to say so.” She explained, ushering her father away from the group.
“It was lovely meeting you, Dr. Strange.” Xenophilius bid his farewells as his daughter led him away.
Stephen couldn’t help smiling at the young witch as she smiled at him while walking away. “Likewise, Mr. Lovegood.” He nodded to her father. “Good to know hippies are universal.” He muttered, earning himself another smack from Jolene.
“Dad … Luna’s a friend, okay? She may be a little … different.” Jolene told her father acknowledging her friend’s uniqueness. “But she is very sweet, and a very good friend and it would be very much appreciated if you could not offend her or her father.” She elaborated.
Meanwhile, Harry stepped away to find a table where he could sit for a spell. “Excuse me, sir? May I sit down?” He asked the table only occupant.
“Mr. Potter! By all means!” The elder wizard replied, excitedly. “Here!” He chuckled, gesturing to an empty seat.
Harry sighed, softly, as he sat down. “Uh, I-I found what you wrote in The Daily Prophet really moving!” He added, admiringly. “You obviously knew Dumbledore well.”
“Who’s Harry talking to, over there?” Stephen asked, curiously, looking over at the table where Harry’d just taken a seat.
“He wrote an article about Dumbledore for The Daily Prophet after his death.” Jolene replied, walking over to the table as her father followed behind her.
“Well, I certainly knew him the longest.” The older wizard replied. “That is, if you don’t count his brother, Aberforth, and, somehow, people never do seem to count Aberforth.” He elaborated, sadly.
“I didn’t even know he had a brother.” Harry replied, looking up at Jolene and Stephen as they joined the table.
“Neither did I.” Jolene shrugged as she sat down with Harry.
“Ah, well, Dumbledore was always very private – even as a boy.” The older wizard replied.
“Don’t despair, Elphias.” A strange elder witch interjected. “I’m told he’s been thoroughly unriddled by Rita Skeeter, in eight hundred pages, no less.” She added, with a strange twinkle to her eyes. “Word has it that someone talked to her, someone who knew the Dumbledore family well.”
Harry, Jolene, and Stephen all watched intently as the woman spoke. They didn’t know who she was, but they knew they definitely needed to hear what she had to say.
“Both you and I know who that is, Elphias.” The strange witch added, knowingly.
“A monstrous betrayal.” Elphias countered, darkly.
“Uh, who are – who are we talking about?” Harry stuttered, curiously.
“Bathilda Bagshot.” The strange witch replied. Harry, Jolene, and Stephen all looked to each other in confusion.
“Who?” Harry probed.
“My God, boy, she’s only the most celebrated magical historian of the last century.” The witch explained as though it should have been obvious. “She was as close to the Dumbledores as anyone. Oh, I’m sure Rita Skeeter thought it well worth the trip to Godric’s Hollow to take a peek into that old bird’s rattled cage.” She smirked.
“Godric’s Hollow?” Harry repeated. He couldn’t understand how the town of his birth had anything to do with Albus Dumbledore. “Bathilda Bagshot lives in Godric’s Hollow?”
“Well, that’s where she first met Dumbledore.” The elder witch explained. Jolene couldn’t believe how little they’d known about the man they’d all looked up to for the last six years.”
“W-You don’t mean to say he lived there, too?” Harry replied, shocked.
“The family moved there after his father killed those three muggles.” Jolene’s eyes nearly bulged out of her skull as she shook her head in disbelief, jumping at the shock of what she’d just heard. “Oh, it was quite the scandal.” The elder witch rambled on as if she hadn’t even seen the three shocked reactions. “Honestly, my boy, are you sure you knew him at all?”
Well, now, I’m not so sure. Jolene thought herself as she realized just how precious little they’d known about the man.
Harry, for his part, truly had no answer for the elder witch’s question. He’d always believed he’d known Dumbledore better than most. But, in light of the new information he’d just been given, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever really known the man at all.
Stephen had to admit that he’d never known Albus Dumbledore, personally. But, based on everything he’d heard about the man through his daughter and her friends, he’d always held him in a high regard – even when others questioned him. Stephen knew that Jolene’s respect was not easily won. So, if Dumbledore had earned it, Stephen knew well enough to give the man the benefit of the doubt. But he could see that now, even Jolene was beginning to question herself. And that was an equally difficult feat. He couldn’t even begin to wrap his mind around the mystery surrounding the man his daughter had looked up to for so long.
Stephen and Jolene both tensed as people around them all started chattering as the energy in the tent suddenly shifted. Harry, Hermione, and Ron all gathered around them as Stephen instinctively moved in front of them, protectively, as an orb of pale blue light glowed in the center of the tent while all other light was mysteriously snuffed out. The sorcerer and all other guests in attendance all watched as the orb glowed and danced while a disembodied voice began to speak.
“The Ministry has fallen.”
Jolene, Harry, Hermione, and Ron all recognized the voice as that of Kingsley Shacklebolt.
“The Minister of Magic … is dead. They are coming.”
Not liking the sound of the warning, Stephen and Jolene readied their shields. The voice continued to repeat the last words over and over again. Finally, the orb flashed and then disappeared as people all around them began to panic.
“Nice meeting you, Mr. Potter.” Elphias bid the group farewell before disapparating out of the tent.
Flames began appearing out of nowhere as the tent seemed to be coming under attack. Wedding guests were all screaming and shouting and disapparating all around them. Stephen, Jolene, Harry, Hermione, and Ron all remained calm and calculating as they scanned the area for threats. Soon, strange witches and wizards all stormed the tent, firing green blasts out of their wands as they destroyed everything in sight and set fire to the tent.
“Ginny!” Jolene shouted, moving to help the youngest of the Weasley clan, only to be halted by her father’s cape.
“Jolene, we have to go!” Stephen ordered. “NOW!” He bellowed, as the cloak pulled Jolene back to the group.
In a moment of quick thinking, Hermione and Jolene shared a glance before nodding to one another. Jolene grabbed Harry and her father by the arm while Hermione simultaneously grabbed Harry’s other arm while grabbing Ron’s as well. Before any of the men knew what was happening, the five of them were standing in the middle of a street in London.
Before Stephen’s mind could process what had just happened, a car horn blared at them as he reflexively herded the teens to the sidewalk moments before a double-decker bus whizzed by, narrowly avoiding hitting any of them. “What the hell just happened?!” Stephen demanded, breathlessly, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.
“Well, Death Eaters were attacking the wedding so Hermione apparated us out.” Jolene replied, trying to figure out if she knew where they were.
“I think I’m gonna be sick.” Stephen mused, surprised by the wave of nausea washing over him.
“Yeah, that’s just because it was your first time apparating.” Jolene replied, dismissively. “The fact that you haven’t vomited, already, is impressive in and of itself.”
“Thanks.” Stephen scoffed, lightly. “Where, exactly, are we?” He wondered, as they navigated their way down the sidewalk.
“Shaftesbury Avenue.” Hermione replied as they wove their way through the crowd. “I used to come to the theatre here with mum and dad.” She elaborated. “I don’t know why I thought it. It just popped into my head.” She shrugged as she paused. “This way.”
The rest of their group followed as she seemed to know where she was going. Eventually, they found themselves alone in a dark alley. Stephen kept watch over the teenagers as they collected themselves.
“We should probably change.” Jolene suggested as she and Hermione pulled small bags out of nowhere. Jolene reached into her bag while Stephen’s eyes widened as her arm disappeared up to her elbow into a bag that looked scarcely large enough to hold a wallet. Stephen continued to be amazed as he watched her pull out shirts and jeans for all of them. She must have seen the way he was looking at her.
“Don’t worry, Dad.” Jolene grinned as she handed him a hoodie and jeans. “Ever since you insisted on tagging along, I packed the essentials for you, just like I did everyone else.”
“Wow.” Harry muttered, taking the proffered clothes. “You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”
“You keep forgetting, Harry.” Jolene teased, gently. “This is far from my first epic war rodeo. I am the daughter of two Avengers, after all. I have a go-bag ready at all times.”
“I don’t know whether to be proud … ” Stephen mused. “ … or concerned.”
“A ‘go-bag’?” Ron questioned, confused, as he ducked behind a dumpster to change, alongside Harry and Stephen.
“It’s a bag packed with all of the essentials one might need in any foreseeable situation that sits ready for one to grab and take on the go at a moment’s notice.” Hermione called out from behind the privacy screen Jolene had conjured around the two of them as they changed.
Once they had all finished changing, Jolene collected the wedding outfits. From there, they continued down the sidewalk in search of a safe place to figure out their next play. That was how they found themselves gathered in an empty coffeeshop.
“What about all the people at the wedding?” Harry asked, his voice reflecting his urgent concern. “Do you think we should go back?”
“They were after you, mate.” Ron replied.
“Ron’s right, Harry.” Jolene chimed in. “You’re the target. We’d only be putting everyone in more danger by going back. As far as I’m concerned, the search for the horcruxes has begun. I think that has to be our next move.” She explained. “The way I see it … Voldemort just declared war on us. If we’re gonna put an end to it, we have to find the damn things.”
“Question.” Stephen interjected, with a raised index finger. “Exactly, what the hell is a horcrux?!”
“A horcrux is an object in which a person conceals a piece of their soul.” Hermione explained.
“They’re meant to be used as a manor of protection.” Jolene elaborated. “Even if your physical body is destroyed, the piece of your soul concealed inside the horcrux lives on. So … you can’t die.”
“Wait – what?!” Stephen exclaimed. “You’re saying a person can live forever if they hide a piece of their soul in some random object?!” The very idea boggled the mind. “How the hell does that even work?!
Jolene, Harry, Hermione, and Ron all shared grim expressions. Finally, Jolene spoke up to answer her father’s question. “In order to break off a piece of your soul to hide inside the horcrux … you have to commit a murder.”
“Jesus.” Stephen breathed, unprepared for the grim, blunt, response to his question. “And just how many of these … horcruxes … has Voldemort made?”
“Seven.” Harry replied, bluntly, missing the sad glance Jolene threw his way.
“And how do we find them?” Stephen asked.
“It won’t be easy.” Jolene sighed. “A horcrux can literally be anything … a pen, a cup, a spoon … literally any object can be made into a horcrux. And, knowing Voldemort … he’ll stop at nothing to keep them hidden.”
Stephen had begun to say something else when a young waitress came to take their orders. “Coffee?” She asked after clearing her throat to get their attention.
“Chai tea.” Stephen muttered, quietly
“Same.” Jolene agreed. “With a touch of honey.”
“A cappuccino, please.” Hermione added.
“Same.” Harry echoed.
“What she said.” Ron added.
The waitress nodded before returning to the kitchen to prepare the drinks. Once they were alone, again, Ron spoke up. “So where do we go from here?” He asked. “The Leaky Cauldron?”
“The what?” Stephen asked.
“It’s too dangerous.” Hermione replied, ignoring Stephen’s question.
“Hermione’s right.” Jolene agreed. “We need somewhere quiet and inconspicuous. If Voldemort really has taken over the Ministry, then we have to assume none of the old haunts are safe.”
Loathe as Stephen was to admit it, Jolene was impressively calm in their current situation. She was keeping a level head and shared his and Tony’s strategic thinking. Damn it! The sorcerer cursed himself. Why does she have to be so damn good at this?!
“Everyone from the wedding will have gone underground, into hiding.” Hermione added.
“Oh my God! My rucksack with all my things. I’ve left it at The Burrow!” Harry groaned.
The group fell silent, again, as a buzzer sounded. They all turned to see two men in denim coveralls walk in. As they passed the table, Stephen kept his eyes on them as they approached the counter. He didn’t know what it was, but he knew something was off about them.
Meanwhile, Jolene just gave Harry a smug, knowing look. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to.
“You’re joking.” Harry scoffed.
“Hermione and I have had all the essentials packed for days … just in case.” Jolene replied.
“By the way, these jeans – not my favorite.” Ron whined.
As Hermione and Ron bickered among themselves, Jolene noticed her father and Harry watching the men in coveralls. As she followed their gazes, something about the men set off warning bells in her mind. Watching the men, carefully, she subconsciously reached for her wand. “GET DOWN!” She screamed, as the two men whirled around and began firing blasts of magic at them.
In that same moment, Stephen and the group of teenagers all dove under nearby tables for cover. “Jolene?!” Stephen called out for his daughter, frantically.
“I’m good!” Jolene called back over the magic fire. All around them, glass shattered, and debris flew as various blasts destroyed the small coffee shop
Stephen caught his daughter’s gaze as they shared a nod. Stephen conjured his shields as they all went on the offensive. Stephen deflected shot after shot as Jolene threw out a few shots of her own.
One of her shots sent one of the men flying into the wall. The other fired a shot in retaliation at Jolene which she easily dodged behind a shield of her own. Scanning the room, she looked for Harry, Hermione, and Ron. The momentary distraction was enough for one of her attackers to hit her in the back. Collapsing to the floor, she heard her father scream her name. “I’m okay.” She ground out as she struggled back to a standing position. “What about you guys?” She asked, breathlessly.
A pained grunt caught her attention as Jolene saw Harry fall to the floor after taking a hit to the leg. “Harry!” She cried out, jumping over the table between them. Kneeling down next to the young wizard, she made sure to check him for injuries.
“I’m fine.” Harry muttered, allowing Jolene to help him up.
Scanning the room, Jolene saw that Hermione and Ron were helping her dad hold off the attackers. She watched as her dad conjured whips which he wrapped around the ankles of one of the attackers – effectively taking to the floor as he used the other rope to snatch the wizard’s wand out of his hand, tossing it across the room.
“Petrificus totalis!” Jolene declared, pointing her own wand at the fallen attacker.
“Jolene! Look out!” Harry called out.
Jolene turned just in time to disarm the other attacker just as he attempted to blast her. Just as the dust began to settle, she rolled her eyes as the door to the kitchen area opened and the waitress emerged.
Stephen watched the young waitress freeze in horrified shock as the tray in her hands crashed to the floor. After watching her take in the sight of what was left of the shop, Stephen finally took mercy on her. “You might wanna get outta here.” He suggested. “Now would be a good time.” He prompted, snarkily, when she still didn’t move. Finally, the young woman snapped out of her trance as she scrambled out the back door.
As Jolene used a levitation charm to gather the attackers together behind the counter, the rest of the group gathered together behind her. Bending over one of them, she relieved them of their wands before pocketing her own and gripping each end of the attackers’ wands in each hand and smashing it against her knee – effectively snapping them in two. She then turned as Harry spoke.
“Lock the door.” He instructed. “Get the lights.”
Stephen made quick work of locking the doors as Ron flipped open the deluminator and collected the light all around then-m. As they all came together behind the counter, Stephen couldn’t help feeling disturbed as he by the looks of the attackers’ faces. “What did you do to them?” He asked.
“Just petrified them.” Jolene shrugged. “They’re perfectly fine, they just can’t move.”
“Interesting.” Stephen hummed. “And is the paralysis permanent?” The neurosurgeon in him was always curious.
“Of course not!” Jolene couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped her lips at her father’s question. “It’ll wear off in – probably – a couple hours.” She shrugged. “Whenever Voldemort decides to come fetch them.” She added, off-handedly. “Which means we need to decide what we’re gonna do with them.”
“Okay, who are you and what have you done with my daughter?!” Stephen demanded, shocked by his daughter’s mentality. Sure, intellectually, he knew she was right. That didn’t mean he was ready to hear those words from his baby girl’s mouth.
“Dad.” Jolene replied, flatly. “You’ve been in countless interdimensional battles. You’re intimately familiar with the art of war. You know better than I do that – unless we do something – they will come after us, again.” Stephen couldn’t deny the logic.
“Jolene’s right.” Hermione agreed, coming to stand next to her behind the counter.
“This one’s name’s Rowle.” Harry interjected, pointing to the blonde attacker. “He was on the Astronomy Tower the night Snape killed Dumbledore.” He added by way of explanation.
“This is Dolohov.” Ron added, gesturing to the other assailant. “I recognize him from the wanted posters.” He explained. “So, what are we gonna do with you, eh? Kill us if it was turned ‘round, wouldn’t you?” He sneered, darkly.
“That’s not why we’re here and you know it.” Jolene admonished her friend. “We’re trying to stop senseless murders! Not commit them!” Stephen had to admit, he was proud of his daughter’s resolve.
“Jolene’s right.” Harry agreed, rising in defense of the young witch. “Besides, if we kill them, they’ll know we were here.”
“Ron.” Hermione interjected, softly, worried about the dark behavior he was exhibiting.
“S’pose he attacked Mad Eye!” Ron snapped, rounding on his friends. “How would you feel then?”
“Mad Eye is alive and recovering thanks to my dad.” Jolene reminded the young wizard.
“Well … you helped, too.” Stephen smirked. “Really couldn’t have done it without you.” He added, with a warm smile.
“Team effort.” Jolene decided. “But, Ron, vengeance is not what we’re about and you know that!”
“It’s better we wipe their memories.” Harry suggested.
“Runes of Kof-Kol?” Stephen suggested, turning to Jolene. “We haven’t done that one in a while.”
Harry and Ron just looked at Stephen as though he’d suddenly started speaking another language while Hermione chuckled at their befuddled countenances. “Easy, Tiger.” Jolene smirked. “We don’t need anything quite that … extra.” She added. “A simple memory charm will suffice for this.”
“You’re the boss.” Ron sighed, petulantly. “Hermione … You’re the best at spells.”
Hermione slowly pulled out her wand. As she approached the petrified wizards. Raising her wand, she spoke the incantation. “Obliviate.” She whispered, willing away the memory of using the same charm on her own parents. Stephen watched as pale blue and bright white light poured forth from the end of her wand toward the petrified wizards. The light seemed to be pulling something toward her wand.
Once the spell was complete and both wizards’ memories had been erased, they knew they had to get out of there. That was how they found themselves back out in the crowd. “How is it they knew we were there?” Harry asked, quietly.
“Maybe you still have the trace on you?” Hermione suggested.
“No.” Jolene argued. “Trace lifts once you turn seventeen. It’s Wizarding Law.”
Just then, Hermione stopped as she seemed to have suddenly remembered something important. “What?” Ron asked.
“We didn’t celebrate your birthday, Harry!” Hermione gasped, quietly. “Jolene and I … We prepared a cake. We were going to bring it out at the end of the wedding!”
“Look, Hermione.” Harry began, gently. “Honestly … I appreciate the thought but – really – given the fact that we were almost killed by Death Eaters, just now?”
“Right.” Hermione sighed. “Perspective!”
Jolene could feel Harry’s tension radiating off of him. With a gentle, feather-light, touch of his hand, she whispered something in his ear. “Happy birthday, anyway.” She grinned, ever-so-slightly as she watched him relax a bit as he offered her a slight smile.
“We need to get off the streets.” Ron added. “Get somewhere safe.”
“Look, Tony.” Rhodey told his best friend. “We know you’re worried – God knows any of us would be going out of our minds, right now, in your position – but, you have got to calm down!” He urged, watching the scared father almost pacing a hole in the floor.
“It’s been two days, Rhodes!” Tony snapped. “I haven’t heard from my daughter – or my husband – in two days!”
“At least Jolene isn’t alone.” Wanda offered, gently.
“Wanda’s right, Tony.” Bruce boomed. “I mean, we all know Stephen would never let anything happen to Jolene.”
Tony just sighed, heavily. Deep down, he knew they were right. But not knowing where his husband and daughter were and what may or may not be happening to them was steadily driving him insane.
“We’re all worried about them.” Wanda assured him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “But Jolene did say that they would be in touch whenever they could.” She reasoned. “All we can do is just trust them and wait.”
“I know you’re right.” Tony sighed. “It Just doesn’t make it any easier.”
“It never is easy.” Sam reasoned.
“But we’re all here for you.” Rhodey added.
“And when the time comes … we’ll be ready.” Wong assured him.
“Where are we, exactly?” Stephen asked, curiously looking up at the large apartment building before them.
“You’ll see.” The sorcerer’s daughter smirked. As she raised her hands and her wand, Stephen watched as the two buildings began to split in two. His eyes widened a tall, narrow, house seemed to appear out of nowhere – wedged between the two buildings.
As they walked inside the house, Stephen took in the dusty, old, appearance. It looked as though nobody had lived there in quite some time and the house had been abandoned. Truthfully, it reminded him of something he’d expect to see in a horror movie. It was old and dated and the décor seemed very dark. However, before he could think about it too much, they all noticed sand and dust swirling together into a pillar about Stephen’s height. Unsure of what was happening, Stephen and Jolene both raised their shields, simultaneously, as the sand and dust took the form of an old man’s face with a long beard. Suddenly, it looked as though the man was reaching out as it charged straight at them. Hermione screamed as it blew across them. “What … the hell … was that?!” Stephen demanded.
“My guess?” Jolene began, lowering her shields. “Probably some sort of security system to keep out unwanted visitors.” She surmised.
“Probably Mad Eye’s idea.” Hermione agreed. “In case Snape decided to come snooping.”
Seeming satisfied with the explanation, Stephen lowered his shields, as well. However, they all tensed as a soft banging noise could be heard in the distance. After exchanging glances, they all seemed to agree upon investigating.
Cautiously, Hermione raised her wand as she spoke quietly. “Homenum Revelio.” Stephen was curious when nothing seemed to happen. But Hermione answered his question before he could even ask. “We’re alone.”
“I BELIE-I BELIEVED -ANO-ANOTHER WAND!” Ollivander screamed in terror as he fell for what felt like an eternity in an abyss where blinding golden lights surrounded him. “IT D-DOESN’T MAKE SENSE!” Grunting, he finally hit the floor as the lights all faded. Rising to his feet, he found himself standing before The Dark Lord, himself. “I-I believed a different wand would work! I swear!” The wand-maker stammered as Voldemort wrapped a hand around his throat. “There must be another way!”
Harry woke with a start. The sound of his heavy breathing seemed to have woken Jolene who had been sleeping on the floor next to the sofa where he’d slept. Rolling over, she quietly sat up to check on him.
“Hey.” Jolene asked, quietly, so as to avoid waking the others who were still asleep – which surprised her as she had expected her father to be the first one up. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Harry lied, quietly. “I’m fine.”
“Another nightmare?” Jolene asked, quietly.
Before Harry could reply, they both startled as Stephen interrupted. “What’s going on?” He whispered, snarkily.
“Damn it.” Jolene swore in a hushed tone while Harry just stared in wide-eyed shock at Stephen’s translucent form floating next to them. “Enough with the astral projection!” She hissed. “If you’re going to join the conversation, get back in your body and wake yourself up!” She whispered, harshly.
“Bloody hell!” Ron declared, having woken from his own spot on the floor between Harry and Hermione’s couches. “What is that?!” He asked, pointing to Stephens’ floating figure.
“I didn’t know you could astral project.” Hermione spoke, clearly impressed, as Ron had woken her. “That’s rather impressive.”
“Please. Do not encourage him.” Jolene just rolled her eyes.
“Well, thank you, Hermione.” Stephen smirked, smugly, before returning to his physical body and waking himself. “Great. Now … Can someone please tell me exactly where we are?” He asked, stretching his limbs.
“We call it Grimmauld Place.” Jolene replied. “The house belonged to Harry’s godfather, Sirius Black, and the Black family. The Order of the Phoenix uses it to meet in secret, away from Voldemort and his Death Eaters.” She added, by way of explanation. “We should be safe here, at least for the time being.”
Before any more could be said, a soft banging noise caught their attention. Against Stephen’s better judgment, they split up to investigate. “It’s not that big of a house and if it makes you feel any better, you can come with me.” Jolene had argued. They spread themselves out throughout the house. Everything seemed pretty quiet. They hadn’t found anything, yet. Then, Ron called out.
“Harry?!” Ron called out. The rest of the group perked up, as well. He didn’t sound like he was in distress. But they were all curious, nonetheless. “Hermione?! Jolene?! Doctor Strange?! Where are you?! I think I’ve found something!”
The rest of the group all hurried out from their locations around the house. Collectively, they all made their ways toward where they heard Ron’s voice emanating from.
Hermione was the first arrive. Stepping into the room, she took in the unkempt space. “Lovely.” She muttered, sarcastically, not seeing why Ron had called them all here. Then, Ron pulled the door closer and pointed to the sign on the wood. “Regulus Arcturus Black.” Hermione read aloud.
“R-A-B.” Ron agreed.
“Somebody wanna clue me in, here?” Stephen asked, half-curious-half-sarcastic.
“Before Dumbledore was killed, he and Harry found a locket.” Jolene replied. “At first, we thought it was one of Voldemort’s horcruxes. But then we found a note inside, simply signed ‘R.A.B.’.” She explained.
Pulling out the aforementioned note and locket, Harry gathered everyone into the kitchen, around an island, as he began to read. “I know I will be dead long before you read this. I have stolen the real horcrux and intend to destroy it.”
“R.A.B. is Sirius’s brother.” Ron spoke in quiet disbelief.
“Yes.” Hermione agreed.
“The question remaining … ” Jolene began. “Is did he ever actually succeed in destroying the real horcrux?” Just then, more banging and clattering caught their attention. Slowly, they all rose from the table and cautiously approached a strange-looking door with a key sticking out of the lock.
“Be careful.” Stephen warned, moving closer to Harry who slowly reached out and turned the knob. Before he knew what was happening, Harry had grabbed a strange and hideous creature and shoved it toward the group. Looks like something straight outta Lord of the Rings … Stephen thought to himself as the creature grunted and huffed at being manhandled. “What the hell is that thing?!”
“It’s just Kreacher.” Jolene groaned, as the tension bled out of her body.
“I can see that! Thank you!” Stephen snarked. “But what kind of creature is it?!”
“No. Not a creature … His name is Kreacher – K-r-e-a-c-h-e-r.” Jolene corrected her father. “He’s a house elf.”
“A what?” Stephen asked.
“In the wizarding world – where some wealthy families in the muggle world have maids or butlers or housekeepers – wealthier, well-to-do, wizarding families sometimes have house elves to serve them.” She explained before humming, thoughtfully. “Although, if you ask me – maids and butlers and housekeepers in the muggle world are treated way better. They get paid … They get real clothes … and they always have the option of quitting whereas house elves are bound to serve one family forever.”
“So … They’re slaves?” Stephen surmised.
“I keep tellin’ ya … The wizarding world may be exceedingly enlightened in some areas … But in others … It is nowhere near as forward-thinking as the muggle world.” Shaking her head, she added “But I digress … ”
“Been spying on us, have you?!” Harry growled in accusation.
“Kreacher has been … watching …” The house elf drawled, evasively.
“Hm! An honest spy! How refreshing!” Jolene sneered, sarcastically.
“Maybe he knows where the real locket is.” Hermione accused.
Harry grabbed the locket off the table and held it out to Kreacher. “Have you ever seen this before?!” He demanded. The house elf only gasped in response. “Kreacher!” Harry growled, impatiently.
“Uh, uh, it is Master Regulus’s locket.” Kreacher stammered, clearly unnerved by presence of the locket and the line of questioning.
“But there were two, weren’t there?!” Jolene snapped, watching the house elf closely. Stephen had to admit that he was definitely proud of the new side he was seeing of his daughter. “Where’s the other one?!”
Kreacher just groaned as he looked up at the group surrounding him. “Kreacher doesn’t know where the other locket is!” He replied, attempting to sound innocent.
“Yes, but did you ever see it?!” Hermione demanded. “Was it in this house?!”
“You filthy mudblood!” Kreacher roared, hatefully. “Death eaters are coming–”
“Oh, that is it!” Jolene snarled, slipping her sling ring onto her fingers. “This is your only warning, you hateful little shit!”
“Jolene!” Stephen warned, sternly. Though his daughter seemed unphased as she continued onward.
“I will not tolerate that foul-mouthed, vulgar, disrespectful, tone from anyone! Least of all, the likes of you! You will learn your place and mind your damn manners, or I will banish your ass to a dimension that will leave you begging for death!” She snarled, with a fire in her eyes like nothing Stephen had ever seen.
“Jolene, that is enough!” Stephen barked, crossly, grabbing his daughter’s shoulder. “I need to have a word with you! Now!” The rest of the group and even Kreacher just stood – frozen with shock at the display Jolene and her father had just made. They all just looked at each other, awkwardly, as the father-daughter duo stepped out of the room.
“You wanna tell me what the hell that was all about?!” Stephen demanded, once they were alone. “I mean, that’s just not like you! I’ve never seen you act like that!” He reasoned, genuinely confused by his daughter’s outburst.
With a heavy sigh, Jolene pinched the bridge of her nose as she replied “I know. I’m sorry, dad.” She apologized. “It’s just … that word … ” She spat, as if she had just tasted something vile. “It just triggered me … I hate it.”
Stephen just furrowed his brow as he tried to make sense of the situation. “What word? Mudblood?” Jolene just nodded in confirmation. “What does it even mean?” He asked, gently.
“It means ‘dirty blood’.” Jolene sighed as she put her hands together behind her back while she began pacing back and forth. “You see, dad … Just like in the muggle world … racism is alive and well, here, in the wizarding world … But it works a little differently. Instead of whites versus blacks … It’s purebloods versus muggleborns.”
“Okay, I’m lost here, sweetie.” Stephen replied, softly. “What are you talking about?!”
“Blood status.” Jolene replied, simply. “That’s what it all comes down to. It’s all about blood status, in the wizarding world.” Stephen couldn’t help thinking about how much Jolene was reminding him of Tony in this moment. “Some witches and wizards think they’re better than everyone else just because they’re what people call ‘pureblood’.” She sneered as her pacing continued. “Meaning that they come from an all-magical family. Then, of course, you have witches and wizards that are mixed – one magical and one muggle or non-magical parent.” She continued to explain. “And, last but not least, you have those of us that possess magic in their blood despite coming from two muggle parents. Now, in civilized conversation, that would be labeled as muggleborn.”
“And in not-so-civilized conversation?” Stephen asked, suspecting that he already knew the answer.
That halted Jolene’s pacing as she froze – her entire body tense – before she slowly turned to face him. “Less civilized people would say ‘mudblood’.” The dark tone that spoke those words chilled Stephen to the core.
“And … when you say ‘those of us’, you mean … ” Stephen sighed, guiltily.
“I mean people like Hermione … and people like me.” Jolene sighed, heavily, before resuming her pacing. “I mean, I know you’re the Sorcerer Supreme and that you’re exceedingly powerful, yourself! But, in terms of this kinda thing – you’re a sorcerer, yes but – you’re not a wizard. So, technically, I’m a muggleborn witch.” She added apologetically. “I was being just as defensive of myself as I was Hermione and I know – ”
Stephen could tell that Jolene was beginning to spiral. Taking mercy on her, he closed the distance between them and wrapped her in a warm embrace. “I’m so sorry, honey.” He whispered to her, gently.
Clinging to her father, Jolene closed her eyes as she took a deep, cleansing, breath. “It’s okay, dad.” She muttered. “And I’m sorry, too. I know I shouldn’t have let Kreacher get to me like that.” She sighed, apologetically.
“Well … ” Stephen hummed, thoughtfully. “He was pretty outta line from the sounds of it.” He added. “Plus, he is kind of an ass.”
Jolene couldn’t help laughing at her father’s assessment, despite herself. Stephen just smiled at the reaction. “Thanks, dad.”
Once Jolene and Stephen left the room, Harry decided to get back on track. “Answer her!” He demanded, turning his attention back to Kreacher.
“Yes.” Kreacher breathed. “It was here … in this house. A most evil object.” He drawled, cryptically.
“How do you mean?” Harry questioned, carefully.
With a sigh, Kreacher replied. “Before Master Regulus died, he ordered Kreacher to destroy it, but no matter how hard Kreacher tried, he could not do it.” The miserable house elf explained with a gravelly drawl.
“Well, where is it now?” Harry prodded. “Did someone take it?
“He came in the night.” Kreacher drawled. “He took many things … including the locket.”
“Who did?” demanded Harry. “Who was it, Kreacher?” The young wizard growled impatiently.
“Mundungus.” Kreacher hissed. “Mundungus Fletcher.”
“Find him!” Harry ordered, curtly. Without another word, Kreacher disapparated.
Just as Stephen and Jolene were beginning to make their way back into the kitchen, Harry entered the room and approached them. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” He offered sheepishly.
“Not at all.” Stephen smiled, gently. “Jolene was just educating me on magical blood statuses.”
“For the record, none of us share those views.” Harry was quick to offer. “None of us care about blood status. More about who a person is as an individual – regardless of bloodlines. Muggles, Muggleborns, Halfbloods, Purebloods … We don’t care. All that matter is that you’re a good person.”
“Harry?” Jolene quipped, smirking playfully. “Relax. My dad knows you better than that.” She assured her friend as she wrapped an arm around her father. “Besides, we were just on our way to rejoin you guys. Were you able to get anything out of Kreacher?”
“He said Mundugs Fletcher broke in here and stole the real locket.” Harry explained.
“Figures.” Jolene rolled her eyes. “I always knew that guy was a weasel.”
“I’ve sent Kreacher to fetch Mundungus.” Harry elaborated. “We’ll see what we can get out of him.”
“All right.” Jolene nodded. “If you’ll all excuse me, I’m gonna go give Pops and the Avengers an update.”
Pops,
Where do I even begin? I know it’s been a minute since the last update. I wish I could promise to update you more frequently. But you know I can’t make that promise. And, if you don’t, just ask Rhodey or Rogers or I’m sure even Sam could relate. Anyway, a lot has happened since my last letter. We were attacked on our way to the safehouse. Dad and I are fine! The safehouse was hit, too. Again, dad and I are fine! Hermione apparated us out and we’ve since found another place to lay low for a while. I know you wanna know where. But it’s safer for everyone involved if you don’t. Just know that dad and I are still together and we’re both safe. We will keep you posted, and we will let you know when it’s time for you all to join the fight. Until then, just know that we love you and we miss you.
I love you 3,000
Jolene Rose Strange
Jolene looked over the letter she’d written to her father. She only hoped and prayed she had given him enough to assure him that they were safe without revealing any information that could make him a target. Sighing as she realized it would have to be good enough, she conjured a portal just wide enough to slip her letter through.
Meanwhile, back at the Avengers compound, Tony had been trying to busy himself with upgrading his suit. It had always been his coping mechanism. But, with his daughter and his husband involved, he needed to make damn sure this would be a war that they won. However, he was distracted when a small, flat, narrow, portal opened just above his work bench as a piece of parchment slipped through. The mechanic could have wept with relief at the sight of his daughter’s elegant handwriting as he unfolded the parchment. As he read the contents, he was relieved to know that his family was safe but, he still wanted to know where they were. However, he understood why she couldn’t reveal more.
“That from Jolene?” Rhodey asked, carefully, as he entered Tony’s workshop. They all knew how much was at stake for Tony and, for that reason, they had taken to taking turns checking on him, periodically, to make sure he still took care of himself.
“Yes.” Tony confirmed, quietly, before clearing his throat as he looked up at Rhodey. “She and Stephen are fine. They’ve been attacked a couple times.” Tony hated how helpless he felt. “But she says they’re both safe so, at least, there’s that.” He shrugged. “Says she can’t tell me where they are, though.” He finished, defeatedly.
“She’s trying to protect you, Tony.” Rhodey explained, gently. “You have to know that.”
“I do.” Tony sighed. “Just doesn’t make it any easier.”
“It never does.” Rhodey sighed, lightly, with a supportive grip on Tony’s shoulder. “But, hey … ” He offered, slinging an arm around his best friend’s shoulder. “If the job was easy, everyone would do it.”