This is an EXTREME AU!
This takes place in 2013 with all the events of Iron Man and Avengers having taken place.
Harry was born in 2000 rather than 1980, he is 13 at the start of this fic. Kurt is 17. Tony is still 43.
In this world, magic users focus mostly on transfiguration, healing, and charms. Wands are not needed but there will be further explanation of that later in the story. Every child is tested for magical ability at 8 and then put into a school to teach them how to harness their magic.
Lily and James never met, Harry is Tony Stark's son.
Work title inspired by Mötley Crüe.
Chapter title inspired by Led Zeppelin.

All societies have a beginning and an end. Some rise out of the ashes of a fallen comrade, or a defeated enemy. Some quietly disappear into the night, never to be seen again. Some are forgotten, their existence dismissed to be myths. History was full of the stories of societies that had come before, of how the world had been formed. Despite that, no history book, no philosopher could have foretold what would happen when the entire world faced destruction and fear together, when all of the societies that had been so carefully hidden from each other were revealed. When a war ravished Europe set out to rebuild, a completely new society, one forged out of common suffering, was born.

It's amazing how one small flaw in a system can cause the entire thing to unravel, how one person overlooking a miniscule detail can cause the crumbling of a society. Every society likes to believe that they are impervious to destruction, that everything will go on like it has for hundreds of years, that nothing will ever change for them. Every society has been wrong. It is not possible for a perfect society to exist; there will always be the flaw of human error there to expose whatever was meant to stay hidden. In the case of the Wizarding World, their flaw was in believing themselves superior to the rest of humanity, in setting themselves apart and likening themselves to being an entirely different species simply sharing the same space.

In the aftermath of World War II, the destruction of London left gaping holes in the infrastructure of the city, exposing things that had long been forgotten by the majority of the population. The rebuilding of London was both a devastating trial and an exciting adventure of discovery. Because of the nature of their seclusion, the Wizarding World failed to realize that they had been exposed until it was too late and the British Government came knocking. Determined to present a united front to the rest of the world, the Prime Minister and King proposed an integration of the magical and mundane peoples of Great Britain. Seeing a chance to silence the building uproar between Purebloods, Halfbloods, and Muggleborns, the Minister of Magic agreed. As the 1950s began, Great Britain became the first country to unite both their magical and mundane governments. Throughout the decade, many other countries would join them in uniting their peoples, determined to bring about a peace that would make the devastation of World War II something that would never happen again.

The scientific community, baffled by the existence of magic and magical humans, set out to find an explanation for them. The research being done on magicals rivaled the research focused on mutants and the Super Soldier Serum that had created Captain America. While most people were watching the Space Race with fascination, wizards and their very existence boggled molecular biologists, neuroscientists, and doctors worldwide. When it was discovered that magicals used the energy of the world around them to manipulate nature, it explained so many of the old myths of witches and wizards that everyone had grown up hearing. Without nature, without some small tie to the earth, a magical was as vulnerable as a mundane. It was the breath of like in a wooden wand, the tie to the earth, that allowed the magical people to change the ways of the world to fit with what their minds envisioned.

It wasn't quite clear what made magic users like wizards capable of accessing the magic of the world around them and harnessing it. Unlike mutants, there was no gene that differed from other humans, mundane humans. There was no reason, biologically speaking, for the magic that wizards were capable of doing. Neuroscience suggested that it wasn't in their blood, as so many of the old wizarding families liked to believe, but rather it was in their brains. Wizards, according to neuroscientists, were capable of accessing 3 times as much of their brain as mundane humans. It was believed that the increased access led to an increased understanding of the magic that the world possessed. The increased brain space did not, according to science, mean that wizards were automatically smarter than mundanes. In fact, in most cases, wizards focused so heavily on magic that they neglected to pay attention to all the other aspects of knowledge available to them. When a wizard did care enough to study the other things that the academic world had to offer, he or she was almost always brilliantly successful. When one of these wizards, usually labeled as a scholarly mage, reproduced with a mundane of genius intelligence, the child was almost always exceptionally brilliant.

It stands to reason that, with three different types of humans living at least somewhat peacefully, that at some point the three would combine, would be embodied in one person. As fate would have it, that was exactly what happened when one little boy was born on July 31st, 2000. Harry Anthony Evans, born to Lily Evans as evidence of her one wild night in Malibu, was born with the increased brain capacity of a wizard, the intelligence of a mundane genius, and unbeknownst to his mother, the x-gene that set mutants apart from the rest of humanity. Had his mother raised him, he surely would have been given every chance available to her to thrive and learn about the things that set him apart, made him special. Unfortunately, Lily Evans fell ill shortly after Harry's first birthday and did not survive the illness. A lack of information about his paternity meant that the state did the only thing they could and sent Harry to live with his mother's rather average, rather bitter, mundane sister. It was the start of what would become a very difficult and challenging life for the little boy.

The Dursley family of Number Four Privet Drive was a perfectly normal mundane family. He went to work in an office every day from 9 to 5; she was a member of all the local women's clubs and a volunteer at the local hospital. Their son was an average student, a star wrestler, and the most popular boy in the neighborhood. Not a single one of the neighbors could find a bad word to say about the perfectly pleasant and respectable inhabitants of the little white house. They lived within their means, they socialized, and they kept a clean house and a lovely lawn. If their precious Dudley did manage to get into trouble every once in a while, it was only because he was being mischievous, as boys were wont to do. The only blight on the family's sparkling record was their bastard nephew, Harry Anthony Evans.

No one in the neighborhood would openly admit to disliking little Harry, after all he could hardly control the fact that his mother was both promiscuous and magical. It wasn't until the boy showed his higher intelligence that the neighbors could find a reason to dislike the boy for something he himself had done. It just wasn't right, they claimed, that a four year old had managed to build a robot lawn mower from scraps in the garage. No one mentioned how convenient it was to use a lawn mower that they didn't have to push, or how gracious the boy was to mow their lawns for a mere five pence. No, they would only speak of how odd young Harry was because he'd been creating robots rather than playing at the park like other boys his age. When their children came home from school the day of magical testing, talking about how Harry Evans had managed to create a garden in his test, the neighbors knew that they'd been right to dislike the boy. Magicals didn't belong in their normal, mundane neighborhood, after all. By the time young Harry's mutation made itself known, the neighbors and Dursleys had all come to a conclusion: the boy must go.

It wasn't that they had anything against magicals or mutants; both groups had benefitted society in one way or another. It was just the idea of one of them living in their neighborhood, causing destruction and disturbances that they could not abide. Theirs was a quiet neighborhood with no history of disturbances and they wanted very desperately to keep it that way. Despite the fact that Harry had no history of being a disruptive child, all the neighbors just knew that that would change because he was both magical and a mutant. They were just waiting for the day that it did.

Harry had always known he was different. When he-at two- could successfully disassemble the VCR and remove the army man Dudley had shoved in there before putting it back together and making sure that it worked, he knew there was something different about him. He'd used his ability to build things to his advantage, creating the lawn mower that allowed him to make a pittance of money that he stored away, just in case he ever needed it. His affinity for all things technological allowed Harry to push far ahead of his peers in math and science, his general genius spurred him to higher levels in all other subjects of knowledge. Before he'd turned eight, Harry was already finished with all the material the primary school could offer him and had started studying the secondary school materials at the library every day.

When the government people had come to test everyone at school so they could send the magicals to a school that would help them learn, he knew he was different. He'd thought, for a short time, that being in a school with other magicals, he'd find a place to fit in. When he'd advanced leaps and bounds ahead of the other students, mastering the control they were being taught and easily manipulating the magic in the world around them, he knew that he stood out even among other people who were like him, he was still incredibly different. It wasn't until he was thirteen that he knew how different he really was.

He hadn't meant to be here this late. Usually Harry tried to leave the library at least two hours before closing time so he could avoid running into Dudley and his gang. Today Harry had lost himself in several engineering journals, reading about how Tony Stark had miniaturized the arc reactor that powered his tower so that it could be used in the commercial field. It was all rather fascinating, reading about the physics and engineering feats that had been accomplished just to reproduce the arc reactor on a smaller scale. Harry was taking notes, making suggestions to himself for potential improvement on the project. If he could build his own arc reactor, he would be able to do all of his experiments without Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon complaining about the amount of electricity they used.

When he left the library, Harry was surprised at how dark it was. Usually the sun was just barely starting to set when he was ready to leave but today the streetlights had already been turned on for the night. Harry huddled into the sweatshirt he was wearing, doing his best to disappear as he walked back towards Privet Drive. Dudley and his gang were always skulking about at dusk, looking for magicals and mutants to attack, resorting to other –smaller- mundanes if they had to. Harry had always been one of their favorite targets.

"Oh look, it's the freak. Come to tell us how awesome it is to be magical, freak?" Piers pushed Harry towards Nameless Thug Number 4, a recent addition to Dudley's crew. The thug grabbed Harry's biceps in his meaty hands, forcing Harry's shoulders back with his grip.

"Let me go!" Harry spat in Piers' direction, sucking in a breath when the taller boy slammed his fist into his stomach.

"Let you go? Why would we do that? Can't you use your 'magic' to defend you?" Piers laughed and landed a few more blows before stepping aside and gesturing for Dudley to take his place. "He's all yours, D. Let him have it."

Harry closed his eyes as his cousin stepped forward, forcing his body to relax as much as possible. If he remained tense, he knew his injuries would be twice as bad. Focusing on his breathing, Harry forced himself to clear his mind and ignore the fists sinking into his stomach and chest.

So focused was he on his breathing, Harry failed to notice as electric blue swirls appeared on the exposed skin of his face and hands. The vice-like grip on his arms disappeared as a nearby streetlight sent sparks everywhere. When harry opened his eyes so he could see as he stumbled from being released, Dudley's entire crew took a step back. Eyes that were usually emerald green pools now shown in the dusk light, electric blue rings around his irises.

Harry's hand twitched and another streetlight sent up sparks, sending most of the other boys running. Dudley glared at him, fist still posed to sink another blow to his stomach. "Figures you'd be a mutant too, freak. Just wait until I tell dad all about this."

Harry was staring down at the blue swirls on his hands, completely ignoring Dudley as his cousin cruelly grabbed his arm and led him home, ranting about what his father would do to the freak. Some part of Harry's mind noted that he was in shock but he couldn't manage to shake it off. Dimly, he registered them entering the house and Dudley telling his father what had happened. Harry knew that nothing good could come from this development, just as nothing good had come from the discovery that Harry was a magical, or that he was a genius.

Harry was broken out of his shock by Uncle Vernon's sweaty hand wrapping around his neck and pushing him into the wall. The meaty flesh of Vernon's palm constricted his windpipe, preventing Harry from taking anything more than the shallowest breath. Like this, Harry had calculated that he would retain consciousness for three minutes before black spots started appearing in his vision. Then he would be forced to struggle in hopes of setting Vernon off balance and catching a deeper breath.

"So you're a mutant too boy? You weren't already 'better' than the rest of us with your 'magic'? You just had to go and find another way to stand out, didn't you? There's no such thing as enough attention for freaks like you is there?" The part of Harry's mind that never knew when to shut up was busy comparing Vernon's rapidly purpling face to a baboon's arse, drowning out the vitriol that Vernon was spitting. "I've had enough of you, boy. I should have refused to take you in the day you were left on our porch, but I'm much too kind for that. I want you out of my house, tonight. Go get your freak things and leave. If I find out you've taken a single thing that belongs to my family, you'll regret it."

Vernon let go of Harry's neck; shoving him in the direction of the basement they'd moved him to when he'd gotten too tall for the cupboard. Stumbling a few steps, Harry hurried down the stairs, grabbing the small suitcase he'd bought a year ago. He'd started planning for the eventuality of being kicked out of the Dursley household three years ago, thanking the unseen deities that he'd been saving money since he started doing yard work for the neighbors when he was four.

Mowing lawns for five pence each hadn't really made him a lot of money, but using that money to place bets against the other kids at football matches had. The other kids all liked to believe that Harry knew nothing about sports because he was always studying or building something, but Harry knew more about football than any of them. It was all math and statistics, after all. It had taken him about five years to make any significant amount from betting against the other kids, but since he hardly ever spent any of his money, he'd managed to save up enough to buy himself a suitcase and a passport. If he could find a billiards hall that would let him in, he could probably hustle up enough money for the cheapest plane ticket to Los Angeles, the closest he could get to the bar his mother had met his father in.

A discovery of Lily Evans's diary when he was six had given Harry a goal for when he left the Dursley's house. She hadn't been able to describe the man she'd slept with beyond the basics and Harry had skipped over the details of their night together, but she'd given Harry a starting point for a search for his father. Now at thirteen, Harry knew there was almost no chance of his father wanting anything to do with a bastard result of a one-night stand, but he still wanted to know who the man was. He told himself that it was for purely practical reasons, medical history and the like, but the truth was that Harry wanted to know that he wasn't alone, that he wasn't the only one too smart, too brilliant, that there was someone else out there who saw the world in terms of things that could be invented to enhance it. Lily Evans had been a smart woman if the boxes of old essays and reports in the attic was any indication, but Harry didn't think his mother had been on the same level he was.

Harry packed up his small pile of clothes, mostly things that Dudley had outgrown, before turning to his inventions and plans. He would have enough room for the most important inventions, the robot he'd built when he was five and the computer he'd just recently built. The rest of them, mostly household robots to help with his chores, would have to stay. Quickly disabling them ensured that the Dursleys wouldn't be able to use them. Stuffing the blueprints for each of his robots into his backpack, Harry grabbed the bag of tools he'd salvaged from the Dursley's garage over the years. They weren't in the best condition, but they worked for his purposes. Buying new tools had never been a luxury Harry had.

Once his meager belongings had been packed into the suitcase and backpack, Harry climbed back up the stairs, stopping in front of Vernon and glancing up briefly to meet his eyes. The purple of rage had faded slightly, leaving the man red-cheeked and puffing heavily still. Vernon thrust a meaty fist out and dumped a wad of pounds into Harry's hand, glaring at him.

"Don't say we never did anything for you. If I ever see your face again, you'll regret it. Now get out of here. No one wants to see you around here anymore."

Harry nodded silently and left the house, walking towards the Surry Station. If he caught a train into London tonight he might be lucky enough to find a last minute seat on a flight to America. Shouldering his backpack, Harry pulled his hood up to hide the new blue swirls on his face. He would never have to come back to this neighborhood if he had anything to say about it. Now that he was out, he was going to get as far away from Surrey as he could. It was time for his life to finally begin.