Chapter Text
A small boy, much too small for an 11-year-old, nearly 12-year-old boy, sat in a train cart with two people. One of them was his best friend, Hermione Granger, a muggleborn girl who cared so much for him that she was the first, and only person (to his knowledge), to say that they loved him.
She was extremely intelligent, he thought she could even be at genius-level IQ! She had brown, bushy hair and barely visible buck teeth, though that was one thing everyone noticed about poor Hermione. The other thing, one thing she found extremely rude and horrible, was that she was black. In the Muggle World, where she was raised, she was mostly accepted though she did grow up hearing insults telling her to be a slave, for some reason those people always ended up hurt. She was accepted in the Wizarding World despite her skin color, though she wasn't because both of her parents were muggles, something that infuriated her.
The other person in the compartment was a tall, lanky red-haired boy with a thin nose and a face full of freckles. His name was Ronald Weasley, and no one else in the compartment could stand him except for himself. He was extremely selfish, which while the other two would have found understandable with such a big family as he had (and oh! Wasn't 7 kids in total a huge family?), it was all because he was 'best mates' with the Boy-Who-Lived that he stayed around. In fact, Ronald thought himself above the other two, thinking that they weren't worth much and that he should have been showered in gold.
That leaves everyone with the final boy, one that almost everyone could notice immediately, rather than in the Muggle or Wizarding World. In the Muggle World, he was known as the horrible nephew of Vernon and Petunia Dursley and the extra horrible cousin of Dudley Dursley. In the Wizarding World, however, he was one of, if not the, most famous people at all. He had been shocked to find out that when he had only been a year old, his parents didn't die in a car crash-no, they were murdered! And he, one Harry (Just Harry!) James Potter was the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry hated that name with a passion, it just reminded him of the fact he was raised with people who abused him out of fear that he had magic.
Unknown to the three was that while Harry was truly the Boy-Who-Lived, it wasn't for why they thought. However, that wouldn't be known until after the train ride. Speaking of, Hermione nearly sighed as she cast a look at her best friend, the boy who was truly a brother to her.
"We're nearly at the station. Ronald, you might want to finish packing your bag." She said, and Ronald grumbled to himself and walked out of the compartment, carrying all of his candy with him. She then turned to the other boy. "Harry, are you sure you don't want my parents to call DfE or the police to get your relatives arrested?" She asked, and Harry shook his head.
"Part of me really wants to, 'Mione. But I can't. Dumbledore wants me left there, you know that. And with him being so much older and having so much power, he could ruin my life without trying. I'll try to get away, I really will. I'll try to make it to your family's house. If I can't, and if I don't show up here in time for Hogwarts next year, report that I might be dead, alright?" Harry asked, and Hermione hugged him tightly, failing to keep tears from falling.
"I should be saying that I'll call regardless, but if this year has taught me anything it's that we can't be too cautious. Write me, or call me, alright?" She asked, and Harry nodded and kissed her cheek.
"I promise. After all, what's a guy gonna do without his sister?" Harry asked, causing her to smile and ruffle his hair.
The train slowed to a stop, and the two sighed and stood up. They both believed the summer would be horrible, for one due to the abuse he'd get and for the other, the worry of the abuse her brother would receive.
When they left the train, and then eventually Platform 9 3/4, both were shocked to find Vernon Dursley not looking his usual purple color but instead with a maniacal grin. Both held back winces and separated. When Harry got to his Uncle, he grabbed his shoulder tightly and marched the boy out to the car.
"Sit down and keep your mouth shut, boy. If you don't hold your tongue I'll kill that ruddy bird of yours and make you eat her." Vernon threatened, and Harry gulped before sitting in the back seat, his Aunt, Petunia Dursley, in the front. She shoved a letter at him with a smirk, and he took it with a slight feeling of dread.
He didn't expect what it said.
If anyone is reading this, that means that me and James are dead and that the secret has to come out before our child is left with my sister and her husband. My name is Lily Potter, nee Evans, and my husband is James Potter. If this is my son reading this, hello, dear Harry. We are so sorry.
For two years, James and I were trying to have a child. Both of us were infertile, James from his family history of inn-breeding and me from a curse I got while fighting for the Order. One day, Albus Dumbledore knocked on our door, a bundle of blanket's in his hands. According to him, the baby's parents had been killed by Death Eaters and he was saved. We believed him until today, October 29. 2001. James took him for a blood test and we found out that our baby isn't Harry James Potter, though we knew that. He's instead Haldar Anthony Odin Stark-Lokison, son of Anthony Stark and Loki Laufeyson, commonly known as Loki Odinson.
Whoever is reading this, take my baby to Tony Stark. Harry doesn't deserve the life he'd have with Petunia, he deserves so much more. He might not be ours bioloigcally, but he is ours in all that matters. First, take him to Gringotts, they need to take the glamour off. If not, and Prince Loki is there, request he does it.
Please, take care of my baby when I cannot. And tell him one thing for me. His parents love him so very much, both sets.
Lily Potter
Harry didn't yell, didn't ask any questions, instead, he blinked, sighed quietly, and set it down. He was left to stare out the window, trying to understand what it all meant.
I'm not Harry Potter, am I? No, I'm not. One of my parents is the literal god of mischief and the other is IRON MAN. Wait, the blood wards? The reason I have to stay with the Dursleys? For nothing? Oh well, no use getting angry. It wasn't worth it when dealing with Voldemort, it's certainly not worth it now. Harry reasoned with himself, missing the looks of anger on his relative's faces.
After a short car ride, and a very long plane ride (And wow, wasn't that a shock, Harry-or perhaps Haldar-'s first plane ride!), he was led out by Vernon and Petunia to a car.
They told the driver to take them to Stark Tower, which caused Harry to want to roll his eyes. After all, who built a tower named after themselves? Harry just thought during the ride there, where, after making their way inside, Vernon started demanding to talk to Tony Stark or someone he was personally connected to.
After nearly 10 minutes of yelling, a tall woman in red high-heel shoes and her copper-red hair in a bun walked over to them.
"My name is Pepper Potts, how may I assist you?" She asked, keeping her tone kind as she saw two children nearby. One reminded her vaguely of Tony, especially after he got back from Afghanistan.
"My name is Vernon Dursley. I need you to run a paternity test on the little fr-br-boy to prove he's Tony Stark's son. His and some Loki fellows." Vernon demanded, and Pepper felt her eye twitch.
"If you all will stay here, I will escort him to the lab and have him tested. Come along, little one." She said, holding her hand out. Harry rolled his eyes and took it, and she led him to an elevator.