It wasn't long before Harry was dressed - in clothes that looked three or four times - not sizes, times - bigger than he was, and Tony forced himself to save questions about them for later as they got Harry out of the hospital and into the car.

Of course, Tony mused, Dr. Mendscole was certain Harry had been neglected, if not actually physically abused, so maybe ill-fitting clothes was just one more aspect of it. Still, he'd have to ask, once they were settled in for the night.

During the ninety-minute drive to Little Whinging - and, really, where did the Brits get names for their towns? - Tony came to one inescapable, inevitable conclusion: his son was hiding something.

Tony didn't know what, or why, but the way Harry spoke about his school only in generalities, the way he paused before he answered every question, and a nervousness Tony hadn't seen when they were talking about James and Lily Potter all supported his conclusion.

The question was, what was he going to do about it?

If Harry were anything like him - or Lily, for that matter - pushing him would only make him retreat into himself and set back the fragile trust they were beginning to build.

He'd offered the letter from James and Lily again, but Harry shook his head, and Tony understood. He wouldn't want to read something so emotionally charged in public, either.

Then Rogers asked, "How are your grades? Generally speaking?"

"About half As, a few Es, and one O," Harry replied absently, and Tony and Steve shared a look.

"Okay, that's nothing like the American grading system," Tony said, "so you'll have to explain it. I mean, to us, an A is the best you can get."

Harry laughed quietly. "A is for Acceptable. E is for Exceeds Expectations. And O is Outstanding."

"Our is ranked A, B, C, D, F," Tony said. "So, sounds like mostly Cs, a few Bs, and one A?"

"Probably," Harry said.

"Are you doing your best?" Steve asked, and he managed to do so without an accusing tone to it, which Tony wasn't sure he could've managed.

"I - don't know. Maybe?"

"How can you not know?" Tony demanded, and hoped it sounded more incredulous than accusatory.

Apparently not, because Harry flinched a little.

"I -" Harry swallowed and looked away, out the window of the car at the passing buildings. "I wasn't allowed to do better than Dudley," he said finally. "So - I stopped trying. Even after I went away to school."

It was as much the matter-of-fact tone Harry used as the words that made Tony feel a little homicidal.

Thankfully, Steve picked up the conversation while Tony got his impulse under control.

"If you're slightly above average without trying, I'm sure you'll be near the top of your class when you start trying again," Steve said. "But even if you're not, as long as you're doing your best, Tony will be proud of you."

"He's right," Tony said immediately. "I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't like for you to outshine both of your parents, but you're you, and as long as you do your best, that's what matters."

"I will," Harry said. "I promise."

When they turned into Privet Drive, Tony focused on not snorting at the drab sameness of the houses along the street.

"Should've named this area Stepford," he muttered, only to be met by twin expressions of confusion. He gave an exaggerated sigh. "Right - we are having a movie marathon at some point."

Then he was focused on helping Harry out of the car - not that Steve Rogers needed much help, but Tony could at least hold the crutches they'd given Harry - and up the drive to ring the bell at number four.

The door opened to reveal a portly man in a black sweater vest, dark gray shirt, and black trousers.

"We're not at home to visitors," he said gruffly. "There's been a death in the family."

"I know," Tony said. "I'm sorry for your loss. But that's partly why we're here."

He gestured over his shoulder, and the man's gaze followed. His expression morphed into a scowl and his complexion turned ruddy faster than Tony would've thought possible.

"You!" the man all but snarled. "Did you kill Petunia with your freakishness, boy?!"

Tony could only hope his own anger wasn't as visible as this man's - Vernon Dursley, most likely.

"That's a serious accusation," Tony said, pleased that the words came out evenly. "Unless you have actual evidence to back it up, you should drop it right now."

"Or else what?" Dursley sneered. He gave Tony a once-over, clearly conveying his opinion of Tony's Black Sabbath T-shirt, jeans, and leather jacket with a disdainful sniff.

Before Tony could formulate a suitably scathing reply, he heard Steve's voice.

"I don't like bullies," Steve said, and his voice sounded somewhat farther away than it should've, so Tony risked taking his eyes off Dursley to glance toward where he thought Steve's voice had come from.

Steve was at the far end of the drive, petting a large black dog, though his gaze was fixed on Vernon Dursley.

"I joined the Army because I don't like bullies, and Hitler was the worst bully I could imagine," Steve continued. "I'm starting to not like you."

"Starting to?" Harry muttered - only not quietly enough, because Dursley's face got even redder.

Dursley opened his mouth, and Tony was morbidly curious as to what might come out of it. Instead, a voice echoed from upstairs.

"Dad! The freak's bird is back, and it bit me!"

"Don't hurt Hedwig!" Harry shouted, and started for the door, as quickly as the crutches would let him.

"I'll help," Steve said as he passed Tony to follow Harry into the house.

Dursley didn't want to let them pass, but a glare from Steve made him step aside.

Dursley thrust a pudgy finger at Tony. "If my boy gets an infection from that bite, I'll sue!"

"You do that," Tony said, keeping the anger from his tone by sheer willpower. "My lawyers would take that case for free. Now, since they're seeing to Harry's pet, why don't you show me where the rest of Harry's things are, and we can arrange for whatever won't fit in the car to be picked up."

A look of vicious glee crossed Dursley's face. "He doesn't have any things. I threw them out."

"Were these things that you and your wife had bought him, or things that he bought with his own money?" Tony asked. His pulse was racing, but he'd slipped from the white-hot anger he'd felt when Dr. Mendscole first told him about the neglect Harry had apparently suffered into a simmering rage that kept him thinking clearly and speaking calmly.

"What difference does it make? The freak's not welcome in my house any longer," Dursley said. "Not that he ever was, mind you - decent people don't need to be around freaks like that - but he's Petunia's sister's brat, no family of mine."

Despite the man's manner, his words made Tony want to smile. He didn't, but it was a near thing. Having that recorded - and JARVIS had surely recorded it - for later use was a gift he hadn't been expecting.

Tony blew out a breath and regarded Vernon Dursley with as much calm as he could muster. "I understand you've just suffered a terrible loss, and for that, I'll make you an offer. If Harry's things are still in the trash, haven't been picked up yet, I won't ruin your life. We go our separate ways and try to forget each other's existence."

Dursley huffed and Tony held up a hand to quell whatever he was about to say.

"If they're gone or destroyed beyond repair," Tony continued, "buying whatever company you work for just so I can fire your ass is the least of what I'll do to you."

"Now, see here -" Dursley began, only to be interrupted by an uneven thunk-step.

Tony shifted so that he could look past Dursley and into the house where he could just see Harry making his way slowly downstairs. He had a backpack of some kind slung from one shoulder, and given what Dursley had said about Harry's things, Tony wondered what might be in the backpack and how - not whether - Harry had hidden it from his uncle.

Steve was only a step behind him, one hand extended ready to catch Harry if he missed a step. Tony felt a surge of gratitude for 1940s manners - though, probably technically earlier, assuming Steve had learned them when he was a child.

When Harry finally made it to the door, Tony said, "Your uncle said he threw out your things."

Harry just shrugged - as much as he could, thanks to the crutches and broken bones - and his expression suggested he wasn't surprised.

"They might still be in the bin," Tony prompted, and Harry looked up with an expression of such hope that Tony's heart almost broke.

"C'mon, Harry," Steve said. "I'll help you look for them."

Once they had made their way to the side of the house where the bins were kept, Tony found himself scowling at Dursley. If he didn't know Dr. Mendscole would be reporting the signs of abuse they'd seen in Harry, he would be more than a little homicidal where anyone with the name Dursley was concerned.

As it was, he could dismiss the man - for now. He'd have JARVIS monitor Mendscole's complaint, and if there were the slightest indication that it wasn't being treated seriously, then he'd indulge his homicidal tendencies by hiring the most vicious family law attorneys he could find in the UK and pointing them at Vernon Dursley.

But before he could even consider that, he needed to be absolutely, positively, certain about one thing. So he cleared his throat, drawing Dursley's attention.

"Just to be clear," Tony said, "you're giving up guardianship of Harry Potter and you don't want him back in your house?"

"I never want to see that freak again," Dursley all but spat. "Freaks like him shouldn't be around decent people - take him, sign him up for the Army, dump him at an orphanage - whatever you want. I don't care."

Tony just stared at him, alternately bemused and baffled by the man's words. "And - you think you're one of the decent people he shouldn't be around? God help you."

He turned away from a spluttering Vernon Dursley, idly wondering if the man would be stupid enough to lay a hand on him.

Apparently not, as Tony approached the corner of the house where Steve and Harry had gone. They were already on their way back, Steve hefting what looked like a steamer trunk on one shoulder.

"That's it?" Tony asked, unable to conceal his surprise. "One trunk?"

"It holds more than it looks like," Harry said.

"If you're sure." Tony frowned, but reminded himself that if Dursley hated Harry so much, he wouldn't have bought him many things.

That, at least, was something Tony could easily rectify. As soon as he knew what Harry liked.

It didn't take Steve long to stash the trunk in the trunk - Tony chuckled to himself at that, even if the Brits called the trunk of a car the boot. He offered to stow Harry's backpack, too, but Harry refused to part with it, even to put it in the trunk with his trunk.

"Your uncle -" Steve began hesitantly.

"Hates me," Harry said with the same nonchalant acceptance that he might have said the sky was blue. Or, Tony amended with a glance out the window, the sky was a somewhat cloudy gray, which he hadn't expected in July.

"Does he … have a reason? I'm sorry to ask, but -"

Harry shrugged. "He always has. My aunt was my mother's sister, and they didn't get along at all. They never wanted to take me in after my parents were killed, but there wasn't anyone else."

"That's no excuse -" Steve began, but stopped and ducked his head. "Sorry. I just - the only thing I hate more than bullies are people who abuse kids. The worst kind of bullies, because there's nothing that can be done about it."

Tony blinked - whether at Steve's statement or Harry's wide-eyed expression of shock, he wasn't certain - and cleared his throat to draw Steve's attention.

"That's one of the things that's better now," he said. "Certain people - doctors, law enforcement, teachers, and others - are required to report suspected abuse."

"But -" Steve broke off again.

"Dr. Mendscole's reporting it," Tony replied. "I don't know why nobody else did." Then his eyes narrowed as a thought occurred to him. "Or did they, and it got covered up for some reason?"

Harry shrugged his good shoulder, winced, and settled back in his seat, closing his eyes as he did.

Steve started to speak again, but Tony waved a hand to catch his attention. When Steve looked at him, he shook his head. Steve frowned, and Tony gave a silent sigh.

"You have a cell phone yet?" he asked.

"Fury gave me one." Without being prompted, Steve pulled it from his pocket.

"Yeah, that paperweight's gotta go," Tony said. "Make a note, J - we're getting Rogers the current StarkPhone. One for Harry, too."

Okay, Harry must be asleep - he didn't even twitch at Tony's words.

"Done, sir," JARVIS replied.

"Until then," Tony said, "what's your number?"

Steve recited it - probably had memorized it the first time he'd heard it, and Tony added him to his contact list. The number would probably change when the phone changed, but until then it stayed where it was.

Tony typed quickly and hit send.

Don't bug him about it. Probably sensitive about the whole mess. - TS

As long as his uncle doesn't get away with it. - SR

Tony offered the other man a tight smile. He won't. - TS