Chapter 10
Harry's 10th birthday was spent in London. He'd been so curious about the place he was from - the place his parents were from - that he'd finally asked to take a family trip for his birthday. They'd all been so shocked that he asked for anything at all that they'd been happy to give him that. Despite the fact that Harry had lived with them all for 4 years, he still never asked for anything - never had to really - but they'd all wished at some point that he would. That wasn't to say he wasn't vocal about things he enjoyed. He loved going to the movies and always spent hours talking about any film they saw at length. He loved theme parks too, and then loved the rollercoasters the best. He enjoyed swimming though wasn't overly fond of it and loved taking airplanes where he would sit plastered against the window taking everything in. He loved pumpkin pie but not pumpkin seeds, and despite the fact that he always ate all his vegetables he really didn't like peas. He also really loved to run. It had taken a while to discover that one fact, but the day Clint had been able to coax Harry into playing a game of tag was the day they all discovered that not only did he like to run, but he was fast. He'd only needed a single compliment on his speed to announce why he was so fast - needing to run away from Dudley and his friends had been hard work - and though none of them liked the words, none of them could deny the enjoyment he got from being able to run. But now Harry was turning 10 and he finally asked if something big and they left for England before Harry could even consider what he'd asked. They rented a house - not wanting the in and out a hotel plus with all of them travelling together, the privacy of a home was better for their purposes. They booked all of the tourist attractions - went on all the tours; following the footsteps of Jack the Ripper, all the ghost tours, Buckingham Palace, the Tower of London; and Harry clearly loved every minute of it.
They were out for lunch, just Clint, Steve, and Harry since the others were planning something of a surprise for Harry. It was two weeks into their trip and Harry was approached by a middle aged man in robes, who bustled forward from who knew where and shook Harry’s hand profusely.
“Such a pleasure, such a pleasure to meet you Mr. Potter! Welcome back to London. Welcome back!” And before either Steve or Clint could protest or say a word, the man bustled off and disappeared back to wherever he’d appeared from.
“He knew my name.” Harry mused, earning a frown from both adults. “Kind of like how everyone knows your name, wasn’t it uncle Steve?” He added, and Steve nodded though he gave a smile, ruffling Harry’s hair in a gesture to ease them both of any worry.
“It was kind of like that, wasn't it?” He shrugged, taking Harry’s hand now, and Harry took Clint’s hand in his others, glint in his eyes. It earned a laugh from Clint.
“Wanna see how high we can get those feet?” He asked, and Harry laughed, getting ready to swing between them, and they swung him the rest of the way to the that didn’t shake the odd feeling the man knowing Harry had given both adults, nor had it escaped their notice that it really had been like when people saw Steve, or Tony; a form of hero worship, and it made both of them uncomfortable to think people were approaching their 10 year old nephew with something akin to that.
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Harry loved London. He loved the fact that he was getting to see where he was from in a whole new light. He loved the fact that his whole family was here with him, and nobody had been pulled away on a mission or anything aside from consulting that could be done over the phone or video calls. Despite the fact that they’d always treated him very well, perfectly in fact, he’d still been stunned by the fact that they’d agreed so easily to a trip for his birthday, though he supposed that was a bit silly. They travelled all the time, he’d been all over the world with his family, but he’d never requested it, and he thinks that was the major difference. He’d asked for something so important, and there had been no hesitation, no moment of maybe, and he was ever so grateful. However, there were some things he found odd; more than once when they’d gone out, people had recognized him, and they were always people dressed up in funny robes and hats. Not that he minded if they wanted to wear strange clothes, after all, his way of dressing was strange in some places too he imagined. But that didn’t change the fact that people seemed to know him; waving, shaking his hand, a wink or two, as if they were sharing a secret. He realized there must have been a secret of some sort, and it somehow involved him, but then, how could it? The Dursleys had always pretended he’d never existed so it couldn’t involve them, and his parents, well they’d never been able to find any real information on his parents. And even if that were true, his family now was full of incredible and unusual people; super spies and super soldiers, a Hulk, Iron man, and a literal god of thunder. So what sort of thing could possibly be so important to have all these people recognizing him? People he was sure he’d never met before in his life. But then, he supposed a lot of people probably knew of him, considering once again who his family was. He’d been homeschooled ever since he moved in with his aunts and uncles, and he knew that was partly to keep him away from the public. The incident in the park when he’d been 8 only proved that point. And he didn’t mind the homeschooling - he supposed it made his education quite eclectic, but he was certain that between all of his aunts and uncles they’d made sure he had a well rounded knowledge base. And that sounded rather adult. The one downside, he thought, was that he didn’t know any other children his own age, and as much as he loved his family, and considered them all his best friends, it wasn’t quite the same. All the same, he had a wonderful birthday trip, and when they arrived home, he was thrilled to share all of his stories with his uncle Phil, aunt Pepper, and uncle Sam, who hadn’t been able to come with.
Going home, however, hadn’t gotten rid of the nagging feeling that there had been more going on in London than he or his family had been aware of. Nor did it change that slowly growing desire to have more experiences, and hopefully some with others his own age.
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Harry was nearly 11 when he got his first letter. It wasn't that he hadn't received mail before – his family had been sure to send him postcards whenever they travelled somewhere new and always mailed them despite the fact that they'd see him first because everyone loved receiving things in the mail – but he was nearly 11 when he received his first handwritten letter. He was sitting in the window seat in his bedroom reading a book about pirate adventures when the sound of tapping met his ears and he looked up to see an owl perching on the windowsill, letter in it's beak. Harry could immediately see that the letter was addressed to him, and curiosity peaked he set down his book and opened the window, inviting the owl in and accepting the letter. The owl just looked at him, waiting for something, and so Harry looked around his room, spotting the chocolate bar he'd been nibbling at. Breaking off a square he offered it to the bird who accepted it happily before swooping off back out the window. Harry watched until he couldn't see the owl anymore and then turned his attention back to the letter. It was heavier than a normal letter and the paper felt thick. The address was handwritten and addressed as such;
Mr. H Potter
North-facing Bedroom on the 27th Floor
200 Park Avenue
New York, NY.
On the reverse, the letter was sealed with red wax with a crest pressed into it, the symbol of the place where the letter had come from, but Harry didn't know what it could mean. Curious, Harry tentatively began to pull at the seal of the letter before hesitating. He knew his aunt would likely wish to see the letter first – to make sure it wasn't dangerous – but Harry had never had a letter addressed to himself before and it did seem a bit curious that the letter knew exactly where he was – without being able to help himself he broke the seal and pulled out the letter. His surprise only grew as he read what the envelope had contained.
The letter read as follows;
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
If that wasn't strange enough, the list that accompanied the letter confused Harry even further.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Uniform
First year students will require:
Three sets of plain work robes (black)
One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
one winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry nametags.
Set Books
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamader
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble
Other Equipment
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS
Harry reread the contents of the envelope three times before finally making for the door, papers in hand.
“Jarvis, could you please tell me where my aunt Tasha is?”
“Of course, sir. Your aunt is currently located in your private kitchen with agent Barton. They appear to be making grilled cheeses.” the thought had Harry hurrying his steps excitedly even as he thanked Jarvis, and he found the two adults in the kitchen as promised. The smell of food had Harry's stomach grumbling and his aunt turned as he entered, an affectionate smile on her face. Then her eyes narrowed in on the papers in Harry's hand.
“What's that, Harry?” Remembering his purpose, Harry dutifully held up the letter for his aunts inspection.
“I received a letter. An owl brought it to my bedroom window. It says I've been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but I didn't know there was such a thing.” Harry told her even as she read the letter for herself, tilting the paper so Clint could read it over her shoulder.
“Jarvis?” Clint asked, and the AI didn't need to be directed further.
“Though there are no official records of any school under the name of Hogwarts, there is sufficient evidence that schools serving the same purpose could exist.” Natasha nodded and since it was obvious the letter wasn't harmful returned it to Harry's eager hands. She watched her nephew read the letter over again, eyes wide with childlike joy, and Natasha just exchanged a look with Clint.
“Go talk to Stark. I'm going to call Coulson, see if he knows anything.” she turned to Harry then who at her words looked markedly less excited.
“Are you angry with me? For opening the letter?”
“A bit worried it might have been dangerous, but no, I'm not angry. It must have been really exciting to have a letter delivered by an owl.” Harry's excitement returned full force.
“May I have an owl to send letters with, aunt Tasha? The list says I could bring one – then I can write to you everyday!” the words had Natasha blinking in shock.
“You want to go?” Harry was nodding before he could even help himself.
“It will be so exciting! Everyone there will know magic too and it would be quite fun, I would think, to have friends my own age.” then he flushed, embarrassed. “Not to say you aren't wonderful company aunt Tasha.” He hastily added and Natasha smiled though her chest felt tight with anxiety. If by some strange chance this school was real and was safe – was she ready to let Harry go off to school? Even as she had the thought the excitement on Harry's face was enough to sway her. If this was real and it was something he really wanted, she wouldn't deny it from him. Before she could help herself she found herself nodding.
“Well I better call Coulson then. We have to find the school first before you can go.”
It took only took them 2 days to find out the truth about the school but it didn't come in the form of any research done by the team or their outside sources, instead it came in the form of a hulking giant of a man riding a motorbike that appeared out of thin air to land on the helicarier pad. Harry was drawing with Steve when the man arrived and they both found themselves staring in shock as the giant man got off his bike and caught sight of them through the window. Then he was waving cheerfully, big grin visible even through his bushy beard. The two exchanged glances before Steve got up, Harry right behind him, opening the door that lead outside.
“Yeh must be Harry. Mind, yeh were a tiny little thing when I last saws yeh.” the man said cheerfully. “Who are you?” the man said next, looking at Steve, and Harry piped up, fascinated by this giant man.
“This is my uncle, Steve.”
“Well then, it sure is a pleasure, let me introduce meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts, but yeh can call me Hagrid, everyone does.”
“So it is a real place then?” Harry asked, unable to believe his luck, but Steve was frowning.
“Harry, don't you think your aunt would like to meet Hagrid?” Steve said carefully, and Harry nodded so hard it looked like his head might roll right from his shoulders.
“Jarvis? Could you please call my aunt and tell her that a man from Hogwarts has arrived?”
“She is already on her way, sir.” Jarvis replied, but unlike most people Hagrid didn't startle at the disembodied voice.
“Well then, Harry. Dumbledore, that's professor Dumbledore, mind, he sent me to make sure ye'd read and understood yer letter – he was very surprised yeh were able to open it at all!”
“Why's that?” Harry asked, and Steve frowned again, wondering just how it was this Dumbledore character – the Headmaster if he remembered correctly – knew that Harry had opened his letter. Of course, if the letter was true, he supposed it was magic. Before Hagrid could answer Harry's question, the elevator dinged and Natasha appeared, moving right over to stand beside Harry. At the sight of her though, Hagrid looked as surprised as Harry thought he should have upon hearing Jarvis.
“Blimey, yeh look an awful lot like 'er.” Natasha's eyes narrowed but Harry found himself looking up at his aunt curiously.
“Like who?”
“Like yer mum.” At those words Harry stilled and Natasha reached for him, placing a soothing hand on his shoulder. Realizing what he'd said Hagrid shifted awkwardly, looking around before his eyes settled on Steve and he seemed to realize what he was there for. With a cough, he started again. “Right then, well it would only be right, you going to Hogwarts – following in their footsteps.”
“My parents went to Hogwarts?” Hagrid nodded eagerly.
“Where did yeh think they learnt it all?”
“All what?” Hagrid just stared, and seemed to notice that all three faces were looking back at him in confusion.
“Well, magic of course.” It took a moment but then Harry was grinning wide, looking up at his aunt with that same thrilled expression.
“My mum and dad knew magic.” Harry murmured, awed, and she managed a smile for him before she turned her gaze back on the giant.
“How do we know you're telling the truth?” Natasha asked, and Hagrid frowned as if he'd never considered that they wouldn't believe him. Then he just looked at Harry.
“Haven't yeh ever done somethin', somethin' that nobody else could do?” Harry could only nod, and even Natasha and Steve couldn't argue with that.
“But I don't understand.” Harry said after a pause, and despite having all eyes on him now it didn't dissuade him from speaking as it once would have. “If my parents could use magic – how could something as normal as a car crash kill them?” Steve looked like Harry had just stomped on his heart and Natasha felt him take her hand even as she felt the throb of regret in her chest. She never had been able to figure out what did actually happen to her late-sister and her husband, and she wished she could've found a way for the question to never be asked.
“Car crash?” Hagrid repeated, obviously seeming shocked, and then he just shook his head, hands all but wringing with unease. He looked at Natasha but she could only shake her head, admitting to knowing nothing. The giant seemed to sigh and glanced back at the bike almost as if he was considering running, but then he heaved another sigh and spoke. “Yer parents didn't die in a car crash, Harry.”
>>>
Murdered. The word crashed around in Harry's skull like a car wreck of it's own, and Harry wondered how on earth the Dursleys could keep such a thing from him. Hagrid had told him, his aunt Tasha, and his uncle Steve the story – how a dark wizard named Voldemort had gone after his family intent on killing them, but after having killed his parents, when he went to finally kill Harry the spell rebounded and killed him instead, leaving Harry with the lightning bolt scar on his forehead and no parents to speak of. After telling the story, his aunt had politely but firmly ordered Hagrid to leave and Harry supposed even magical giants could be afraid of his aunt because with an apologetic dip of his head the man had climbed back on his motorcycle and flown off. Curled up in his hiding spot on the roof Harry wondered briefly when his uncle Clint would be home because despite his joking exterior, Harry always found it easiest to talk to uncle Clint about his family – or perhaps, better put, the Dursleys and the Potters. It wasn't that he didn't talk to his aunt Tasha – he talked to her about a whole number of things, and often the same things he spoke of with his uncle Clint, but sometimes it was easier to go to his uncle with them first. It didn't help that ever since he'd heard the story he kept remembering the same flash of green light that always lived in his nightmares, but this time it was paired with a high, cold, and cruel laugh. He curled up smaller in his hiding place, wondering now if his aunt was still with his uncle Steve in the common room, and wondered if they were talking about what Hagrid had told them.
“So I hear you're famous.” his uncle Clint's voice cut through his thoughts and his head shot up, smile coming to his face despite the turmoil in his thoughts. Then he realized just what his uncle had said and his smile dropped.
“He said my scar is the mark of a dark curse.” Harry finally replied, and Clint shrugged, dropping down on the roof next to Harry's hiding spot, unfurling his legs so he could lounge against the side of the building.
“Do you believe him?”
“I don't disbelieve him. After all, it does hurt whenever I have nightmares.” Clint just shrugged.
“Cursed or not, it's just a scar. Not you.” the words made him feel better before he'd even realized he was looking for them, and he managed another smile.
“Does this mean the school is real then?” Harry asked, and Clint just tilted his gaze in Harry's direction.
“Seems likely. Still wanna go?”
“I wouldn't mind. I haven't been to school since I lived with the Dursleys. I think I would enjoy it.”
“Plus you could learn how to hex your way out of being grounded.” at the words Harry's smile widened, sparkle of mischief gleaming in his eyes. It made Clint happy to see the light there, when in his younger years there had mostly been fear and anxiety. The mischief disappeared behind worry though and a shadow of the old anxiety returned.
“I don't think aunt Tasha wants me to go. She's never seen it before, and I know how she feels about strange places she's neither seen nor heard of.”
“Your aunt Tasha just wants what's best for you. Even if it means going off to a magical school she knows nothing about.” Clint paused. “I would've liked to meet that Hagrid guy, though. I want to know where we're supposed to find all the stuff on that list of yours.”
“You think going to Hogwarts is what's best for me?” Harry asked, and Clint turned his head to regard the boy, seeing in the open curiosity just how much the boy had grown into himself. He was proud to have been a part of it, he realized, proud that Harry cared enough for his opinion to ask for it sincerely, and proud that they'd been able to raise him to no longer be afraid to speak his mind.
“I do, kid.” was the reply he gave, watching Harry's face carefully for his reaction. “I think it'll be good for you to mingle with kids your own age, get into some trouble, spend some time away from home. We'll be here if you need us. In fact, I wouldn't mind travelling to wherever this school was to visit.”
“It sounds like a boarding school, uncle Clint. I don't think we're allowed visitors really.”
“Not even on weekends?” at that Harry rolled his eyes.
“Well, maybe on weekends.” Clint grinned, climbing to his feet and ruffling Harry's hair.
“That's the spirit. Come on. Time for dinner, then I think we're going to play capture the flag. Thor, Jane, and Darcy are coming. I heard even Parker might show up.” Harry grinned, climbing to his feet to follow his uncle inside and wondering just when he'd find out more about the school he was more and more desperate to attend.
Harry's wishes were answered even sooner than the last time when another owl appeared with another letter attached to it's leg. He was with his aunt this time, and she watched, bemused, as Harry retrieved the letter, giving the bird a treat before watching it fly off. With a glance at his aunt who offered a nod, he opened the letter.
Dear Mr. Potter,
Due to your unusual circumstances, it has been agreed upon that a representative of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will be sent to meet with you and your family to discuss your enrolment into our school.
Our representative will arrive before dusk tomorrow evening.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Once read, he passed the letter to his aunt for her inspection, watching her surprise in the way her eyebrows rose ever so slightly. Then she looked up at him, and he didn't know what she saw, but whatever it was had her smiling, an expression he returned happily.
“We should tell everyone else. They'll want to meet whoever it is too.” Harry said, and his aunt nodded.
“You're right. Let's find them all.”
The moment dusk fell the next day, a middle aged woman with sharp features and rectangular glasses appeared in the lobby. It was an improvement to Hagrid's appearance on the balcony, but her dark emerald robes still drew much attention. Upon her request for an audience with Mr. Potter, she was met in the lobby by Tony and Clint, and upon confirming that she was indeed from Hogwarts, was escorted upstairs to where Harry, his aunt, and the rest were waiting. Her eyes passed over the group, resting on Natasha and Harry, and nobody missed how her eyes lingered on Natasha before falling on the boy.
“Hello Mr. Potter. I'm deputy headmistress Minerva McGonagall, and professor of transfiguration at Hogwarts.”
Harry offered her a slight smile.
"It's a pleasure to meet you." Harry offered, gratified at the small smile he received in return. Then her expression grew stern and Harry realized it was an expression he'd probably see a lot of.
"Now then. Before I begin, do any of you have any questions?"
"Where is this school?" Natasha asked first, and the professor didn't even hesitate.
"Scotland. Though it is protected by hundreds of spells to make it impossible to find if you don't already know where it is." Clint and Natasha exchanged glances, taking it more as a challenge than a warning before turning their attention back to the professor who seemed to be watching them with something akin to amusement.
"What currency do they use in your world? Is it the euro or do you have your own monetary system?" Tony asked, and McGonagall's look was appraising as she looked at the billionaire over her glasses.
"We do have our own form of currency, but Mr. Potter needn't worry about that - his parents left him enough to live comfortably in our world alone." The words were said gently, but that didn't take away the reminder that his parents were dead and this was their world he was stepping into.
"Does everyone really know me?"
The look in McGonagall's eyes softened further.
"They know of you, Mr. Potter. The only people who know you will be the ones who care enough to befriend you all on their own." That earned her a smile from not only Harry but the rest as well, and so with a wave of her hand she conjured up a chair, enjoying the awe at the show of magic before settling in. "Now. In regards to your books and classes."