Harry Potter: The Iron Magician
prologue: Beginnings
15th of May, 1998
London, England
Harry Potter was a wizard. Not a wizard who wore a top hat and entertained children by pulling a rabbit from a hat. Not a wizard who performed tricks with cards. No, Harry was a true wizard, capable of real magic. He had discovered this at the age of eleven, and spent six years from that point attending Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry to learn his craft and hone his skills. It was there he'd become embroiled in a war for the freedom of magical Britain – perhaps even the future of the magical world.
The dark wizard, Tom Marvolo Riddle, who preferred to go by 'Lord Voldemort' had killed Harry's Parents before he could even remember them. He had then attempted – obviously unsuccessfully – to kill Harry himself. After many years of trials and tribulations, Harry had recently less then a fortnight ago defeated Voldemort. Life in the magical world since that day had changed drastically. And not entirely in ways he liked. Since killing the dark lord, he'd been mobbed by reporters and supporters. Of course, there were also those who refused to support him regardless of what he did. Like Ron. He let out a sad sigh as he walked through the streets of muggle London.
Consumed by Grief at the loss of not only his brother Fred, but also his baby sister Ginny, who had been killed by Voldemort himself, and unable to accept that Harry and their other best friend, Hermione Granger, shared no romantic feelings for one another, Ron retreated inwards, stating he no longer wished to see his best friend or girlfriend again. The loss of Ron and Fred, his brothers in all but blood and name, and of Ginny, whom he had thought one day to marry had cut him to the core. In losing Ginny however, he had gained a friend, one who understood the pain. He had grown much closer to fellow Gryffindor, Dean Thomas. In addition to Dean, Harry and Hermione had found themselves developing closer ties with their friends Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood.
A need to get away from the wizarding world him – had found all of them – buying a small country house just on the outskirts of London. Driven to an almost insane grief by loss, and tired of the obsessed media, and the near silent whispers that he had vanquished Voldemort only to take his place, had left. He was tired of the betrayal. Tired of the ministry and its garbage, tired of fighting their battles. That was how he found himself today walking through the city of London.
On any other day, things might have changed. On any other day, the world could have been very different. On any other day, Harry potter would have been in another place, and fate would have taken a vastly different turn. And perhaps, on any other day, Howard Stark would not have been speeding with his son in the car.
It came out of nowhere. He was walking down a small deserted street, back towards the house, in fact, he was opening the gate to their estate as it happened. A yellow sports car bearing the proud Ferrari stallion came roaring around the corner, speeding towards him with each passing second. As a reflexive action, he turned on the spot, apparating to the side. Without warning the car slammed into the high steel fence. Pieces of metal pierced the windscreen, and the front half of the car was destroyed. He heard loud voices and footsteps coming from the house, and taking deep breaths rushed towards the totalled car. He tore off the passenger side door. There was a young man with dark hair, of an age with harry by the way he looked lying in the seat. He was dead. A voice croaked out from the driver's side seat.
"An- Anthony" Harry's head snapped up, and he glanced over at the old man lying in the driver's seat. A piece of metal was embedded in the man's chest. Harry had seen enough war to know he did not have long to live. He rushed around to help the man as best he could. The old man gripped his hand as tightly as he could.
"Tony?" he whispered. Harry lowered his gaze sadly, before answering softly.
"Dead". The old man sighed, and a few tears built up in his eyes. He gripped Harry's hand even tighter. "Stark. Stark enterprises – A mole – Please. Find the mole, save my legacy. Please. Help". Harry stared at the old man as he died. He took several deep breaths. He heard his name shrieked from the distance and glanced up. Hermione was running across the grass. She was halfway across the yard, and would be there in a few minutes. Whatever he decided, he had to do it now. He needed answers.
He stepped determinedly around the car once more, flicking out his wand, and pointing it at Tony Stark's head. The young man was dead, but his brain would still – at least partially – maintain his memories. He cast the necessary spells, and found him falling in a notion not dissimilar to a pensive.
There was so much knowledge in Tony Stark's head. So much the boy knew. And so much pain. What was clear was his need to make Howard proud. There were so many memories. Obie. Maria – mother, dead a year prior. Edwin. Dum-E. His first Circuit Board. MIT. Howard's dismissal. Steve Rodgers, the man's shadow. The shadow of captain America.
Harry took a step back, taking several deep breaths as he did so. Hermione reached him, out of breath as she did so. Gently she placed a hand on his shoulder, asking if he was alright. Warily, he nodded slowly. He took a deep breath, decision made.
"I have to go to America," he told her, whispering softly. Howard Stark was dead. But Tony Stark would live his life. And he would find a way to make Howard Stark proud.
After he'd told his friends where he was going, it hadn't been hard to convince them to come with him state side. The real difficulty had been in convincing him to let them come. He wasn't sure what was happening at Stark Enterprises, but Tony and Howard's memories had told him one thing. This was going to be difficult. And dangerous. He hadn't wanted them involved in that.
In response, Hermione had slapped him across the face. The others had shook their head, and it was settled. They were going with him. It took a few weeks for them all to get fake IDs and backstories, but soon enough, he Hermione, Luna and Neville were on a plane to the US. Dean would follow them over later.
Luna was travelling under the guise of the doctor who had been appointed to fly with 'Mr. Stark' to ensure he was healthy during the journey. Hermione, her hair spelled a strawberry blonde colour, had become Virginia 'Pepper' Potts, the young woman Stark had met in England, and taken a shine too, hiring her as a PA. and Neville? Neville was Happy Hogan, the bystander who had pulled Tony from the wreckage, and earned a position as head of security.
The plane landed on the strip, taxing slowly to the end. Harry allowed Luna to push the clutches into his hands, and step out ahead of him. He followed her down, making sure to take it slowly, using the clutches as best he could. Waiting for them at the bottom were two men. One was a well-built man with no hair, and a jovial grin on his face as he waved in Harry's direction; Obie.
The other couldn't be more different, thin and distinguished, standing in front of the limo was a man with grey hair cropped short and glasses. His face was kind, though there was something in his eyes; a quiet, soft spoken intelligence. Jarvis, spoke the voice in his mind softly. Harry stepped down onto the tarmac and looked, limping ever so slightly towards Obie. Jarvis raised his eyebrow slightly as he stepped towards them.
Obie Pulled him into a one-armed hug, and Harry had to remind himself to wince slightly as he did so. Stane whispered his condolences, assuring the young Stark heir that he would look after the company until he was ready. Warily, he nodded. Jarvis placed a hand on his shoulder, leading him to the limousine.
Howard Stark was cremated a month to the day after his death. His son stood silently at the front of the service, giving a short simple speech when called upon. After the ceremony, the ashes were laid to rest in the Stark Mausoleum on the New York Property. Stark himself settled in to the manor quietly, living with his new PA, the doctor that had come with him, the Stark butler, and the new head of security.
No one in the media got anywhere with the new Stark of Stark Enterprises.
Harry sat in the lab, tinkering as best he could. Obie had assured him it didn't matter, that he didn't need to invent. The board would understand if he was still grieving. He could take all the time he needed. But he needed to learn. He had to know this if he was going to become Tony Stark. Hermione knew some of it already, and had started buying up books on the subject, but it wouldn't do for Tony Stark's Assistant to know how to do his job better than he did.
More importantly, Harry wanted to learn it. He wanted to know all of this, because it seemed fascinating. Living as Tony Stark, as much as it would help Howard if he found the mole, was also for his own benefit. This was his second chance. A chance to matter to the world based on his own merit. A chance to be someone other then Harry Potter. A chance to prove the hat right that he had "not a bad mind".
So often at Hogwarts, he had let quidditch – and Ron – ruin him. He hadn't applied himself at school half as well as he could have done. Shamefully, too often, he had coasted by off of Hermione's hard work. Years of letting the Dursleys drill into him the need to be worse then Dudley hadn't helped either.
In a rage, as the droid refused once more to work, he tossed the wrench across the floor. He slammed his head against the work bench, tore at his hair, and let out a voiceless scream, muffled by the bench.
"You aren't really Tony, Are you?" Came the calm voice from behind him, he spun around in the chair, staring at Edwin Jarvis standing in the doorway, watching him intently. Jarvis leant against the frame, the weight of his years and the knowledge he had just revealed to harry clearly weighing against him. For a moment, Harry considered lying, before thinking better of it. Perhaps – just perhaps – the old butler might be able to help him. He ran a hand through his hair, and slowly shook his head, standing up with his palms raised defensively.
Edwin sighed slowly, moving into the room. The old man ran a hand along the materials, smiling sadly, unshed tears bubbling in his eyes. He took a deep breath, and standing in front of harry, gazed carefully at the younger man. Harry waited, feeling a breath catch in his throat.
"From what I've come to know of you and your friends, you did not kill him, or Howard," he said slowly, still looking into Harry's eyes, "or at least I don't think you did. Did you?" the old man asked, staring imploringly into Harry's eyes. Harry shook his head.
"No," he replied, tears building in his own eyes, as he sat back down, Jarvis sitting beside him. "There was an accident", he explained, proceeding to reveal everything to the older man. How he had fought in the war, how he was tired of his world. He told him how Howard and Tony had died, told him how Howard had revealed the mole within Stark enterprises to him, and how he and his friends had decided to help. Throughout it all, Edwin had just sat and listened. When he was done, he stood, nodded once and clapped his hands together.
"Right then," he declared, walking towards the front of the lab and pulling one of the white boards towards him. "we had better get started then, hadn't we?" Harry frowned slightly. "Get started?" he asked, frowning slightly.
Jarvis looked at him, smiling slightly, "Well, if you're going to be Tony Stark, the first thing you need is to know what Tony Stark knew. We'll start with general knowledge, and go from there".
"Thank you, Edwin", Harry said gratefully.
"Oh No, sir", Jarvis Replied, "Thank me when the sixty hours a week classes and study is done, after they pay off". Harry gulped, but nodded slowly, determined to see it through. If this was what it took, he would do it.
A/N: Hey All, I've read a few of these before, so this is my take on the MCU with Harry as Iron Man. Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it. BTW, Edwin is portrayed by Jeremy Irons.