Tony hadn't said a word in a few minutes. The silence stretched as he stared at the boy's name on the page like it might come alive and explain itself.
Henry broke it gently.
"There's more, Tony."
Tony looked up, weary but attentive. "Because having a secret brother wasn't enough of a bombshell?"
Henry exhaled. "I managed to find out where he's living. With Lily's sister, Petunia Dursley. She and her husband took Harry in after… well, after what happened to his parents."
Tony's eyes narrowed slightly. "What happened?"
"Car crash. At least, that's the official story," Henry said, not entirely convinced himself. "Both Mr and Mrs Potter, Dead. The boy was just a baby when it happened."
Tony leaned forward, fingers steeped under his chin. "So this Petunia woman… She's raising him?"
"Using the word raising feels generous," Henry said, tone hardening. "I looked into it. The Dursleys live in a small neighborhood in Surrey. Number 4, Privet Drive. Nice and normal on the surface. Too normal."
Tony tilted his head. "You mean Stepford-wives normal or 'burying secrets in the backyard' normal?"
Henry gave a grim smile. "A little of both. I tried to look up school records, health records, anything that might give a clearer picture of the boy's life… and there's nothing. It's like he barely exists. He's not in any school yearbooks. No awards. No mentions. It's like he's a background character in his own story."
Tony's brow furrowed. "That doesn't happen naturally. Either someone's covering tracks… or nobody ever bothered to make any."
Henry nodded. "I drove out there once. Just to see for myself."
Tony blinked. "You went there?"
"Stayed in the car. I didn't want to spook anyone. But I saw the boy. Outside, in the front yard, tending to a flower bed. Maybe ten years old, maybe a little younger. He was working with this… weird sense of focus. No slouching. No complaining. Just methodical. Like a professional gardener in a kid's body."
Tony sat back slowly, unsettled. "That's not how kids act." No, definitely not normal.
"I know," Henry said quietly. "And it didn't sit right with me. Something's off about the whole picture, Tony. It feels like he's being… kept small. Controlled. Hidden, even."
Tony's gaze dropped back to the file. His fingers curled slightly around the edge. "No one hides a kid that well unless they're afraid of what happens if he's seen."
He stood up suddenly, pacing toward the window, his mind spinning faster than his mouth could keep up. Too many questions. Too many theory. And too many unanswered.
Happy folded his arms. "So what's the plan, Boss?"
Tony stared out the window for a long time.
"We pay a little visit to Privet Drive."
------------------------------------
The train ride from King's Cross back to reality always felt like waking from a dream he didn't want to end.
Harry Potter stood just outside Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, his trunk beside him and Hedwig hooting softly in her cage. The magical buzz of Hogwarts still clung to him, Ron's laughter, Hermione's books, the taste of pumpkin pasties, and the wild, impossible fact that he had faced down Voldemort and lived.
Again.
And now… he was going back there.
He saw them before they saw him—Uncle Vernon, arms crossed like a concrete wall, Aunt Petunia pursing her lips like she'd swallowed a lemon, and Dudley hiding behind them like Harry had grown fangs.
No hugs. No "How was school?" Just that familiar disapproval hanging in the air like mildew.
"There he is," Vernon muttered.
Harry clenched his jaw, dragging the trolley toward them.
"Let's go," Aunt Petunia said briskly, already turning.
Harry didn't reply. He just followed, quietly, fingers tightening on Hedwig's cage.
The car ride was silent, heavy with tension. When they pulled up to Number 4 Privet Drive, nothing had changed. Same neat lawn. Same trimmed hedges. Same feeling like the walls themselves were trying to box him in.
As soon as they got inside, Vernon barked, "Trunk in the cupboard, boy. And no funny business. No owl noise at night either."
"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry muttered, already wheeling the trunk toward the stairs. He knew the routine.
They weren't going to ask what he did this year. They weren't going to care that he faced death, or saved lives, or had friends who liked him.
He was back in the cupboard under the stairs—well, now the "smallest bedroom," but not much of an upgrade. Hedwig was the only company he had, and she knew better than anyone how lonely Harry got in this house. Perhaps he should had left her at Hogwarts or maybe ask his friends to keep her with them, however, he was uncomfortable to explain why.
He opened the window a crack, letting in the warm breeze, and sat on the bed, thinking about Hogwarts. About magic. The wonder.
And the family he'd never known.
James and Lily.
His parents.
They were still mostly shadows to him—flashes of green light, a laughing voice, a woman's scream. He thought about them every night. I wondered what kind of people they were.
He'd never felt more connected to them than this past year.
Still, something nagged at him tonight, a strange sensation like someone had tugged on a thread deep inside him. It was quiet, unexplainable. But it felt like someone out there was thinking about him.
Watching.
Maybe even… looking for him.
He didn't know it yet—but for the first time in years, Harry James Potter wasn't as alone as he believed.
-----------
Tony stepped into the hotel room, letting the door close quietly behind him. He didn't drop his usual sarcastic line about the décor, didn't comment on the weird art on the wall. For once, his mind wasn't spinning with tech upgrades or new arc reactor prototypes.
It was stuck on a boy.
A boy in oversized clothes, kneeling in a flowerbed, hands dirty with soil, moving like a soldier trained for chores.
Harry.
Tony exhaled slowly and tossed the room key on the dresser. He loosened his tie, then pulled out his phone and scrolled down to Pepper.
It only rang once.
"Tony," came her familiar voice, cautious but relieved. "You landed okay?"
"Yeah. Hotel's decent. The room smells like old money and lavender," he replied dryly, pacing a little. "But listen… something happened."
A pause. "What kind of something?"
"The kind that makes you rethink everything you thought you knew about your dad. And biology." He stopped near the window, staring out into the night. "Turns out I have a half-brother."
Silence.
Pepper finally said, "You're not joking."
"I wish I were," Tony muttered. "The kid's name is Harry. Harry James Potter. Lives with his aunt and uncle—real sunshine parade, those two. I saw him, Pep. He's maybe eleven. Outside doing gardening is like basic training. Something's off. Henry—our old lawyer—says the kid barely exists in the system. It's like someone's trying to erase him."
Pepper's voice was quiet now. "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know," he said honestly. "But he's mine. Not by choice. But now that I know… I can't walk away."
"You won't," she said with certainty. "Not when it matters." Ha! He knew she would aboard his express.
Tony smiled faintly. "Yeah. You're always right. It's both comforting and incredibly annoying."
They chat a bit longer before hang up telling her he's gonna call his teddy bear.
He hung up and scrolled again.
Rhodey.
The phone rang twice before his best friend answered.
"What kind of trouble are you in now, Tony?"
"Oh, I don't know, just the usual. Underground weapons deals, alien threats… secret siblings."
There was a pause. "What?"
Tony collapsed onto the hotel couch. "Long story short—my dad had a cousin named James Potter. He and his wife couldn't have a kid, so Howard pulled some strings. Made one. Conditions were: no contact, total secrecy. That kid? He's real. He's alive. And he's my half-brother."
"Are you serious?"
"Dead serious."
Rhodey didn't say anything for a beat. Then, "Where is he now?"
"With his aunt. And I gotta tell you, man… something's wrong there. The kid doesn't act like a kid. It's like he's been trained to stay small. Invisible. Obedient. And I know that look. It's the same one I used to see in the mirror when Howard forgot I existed."
Rhodey's voice dropped. "You're thinking of getting involved?"
"I am involved," Tony said quietly. "I didn't ask for this, but he's blood. That matters, right?"
"It does," Rhodey said. "And Tony—if you're doing this, I've got your back. Whatever you need."
Tony smiled faintly, for real this time. "Thanks, teddy bear. Might need you to punch a middle-aged lawnmower salesman named Vernon. You in?"
"Always."