Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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Christmas flew by like a breeze and nothing special happened that day to commit to Tony's memory. Well, there's one. Aside from giving Harry the toy he worked hard on, Tony received a candy. He wasn't actually expecting something in return, really, since he concluded that his caretaker was having financial crisis if working for this family was anything to go by. But he should have known that his friend wouldn't accept whatsoever without paying it back. 'An eye for an eye', Harry said, an unnecessary quote – a bit inhumane if used in the wrong situation – yet it stuck a firm impression on the child genius. But then again, Tony should have known Harry was a one-of-a-kind, Jack of all Trades and a master oddball of weirdness with a habit of spouting nonsense.

What Tony got was a packet of colorfully jelly beans. It looked mundane outside and harmless inside, but boy, he was awfully wrong. Harry had him learn the value of a person's character; what they present themselves with doesn't reflect their inner self. To say he was embarrassed was an understatement. Tony can clearly remember the taste of it and he hated how Harry took delight in his suffering. That lesson was obviously for him not to judge easily.

It was horrible. The candymaker must've replaced chocolate with corpse-flavored mixture added with toenails for an extra kick. Seriously, who made these things? Bertie? That person must've been insane! Oh… If he has the chance, he will sue whatever company owns this treat. It tasted terrible like death personified into an innocent jelly bean enough to cause a major tragedy on his poor taste buds. They would have stayed dead if Harry didn't take pity on his charge ('Well, he should', Tony thought to himself indignantly) and picked a blue colored one, promised that this time it was blueberry not the flavor of a blue ink Tony assumed.

Tony woke up at the crack of dawn, even before the sunlight could reach his eyelids he was already sitting by his twin-sized bed sluggishly wiping any traces of sleep. It was hours earlier before Harry would come to his bedroom and wake him up for breakfast. At this hour, Tony doubt Harry was awake and performing his daily chores. Nevermind that, Tony was having none of it, he still haven't forgotten about that incident and while the six year old was happy to receive a Christmas gift from Harry, that did not stop him from swearing revenge on the raven-haired man. He doesn't care what his caretaker was doing right now because Tony was going to kill time and plan the perfect payback to set upon Harry.

Throwing the blankets away, Tony, in his pajamas, leaped out of his bed, his feet touching the cold floor.

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"What is this?" Harry said, his face portraying curiosity (with a hint of pride, Tony could see) as he observed the kitchen floor. Tony can't tell why on earth Harry haven't started on lecturing him how it was improper for a child of an important – and let's not forget, rich – man to behave such way: pranking. As of now, Tony was seated on one of the stool facing the counter, and facing Harry who was trapped on the maze of glasses.

"Hah!" Tony huffed, his chubby hands counting the remaining jelly beans scattered on the pristine tabletop. "That's what you get for having me taste these! Bertie is crazy for making an earwax flavored candy!"

He saw Harry raise a single eyebrow before the said man was a laughing mess to where he was standing and tried to ask, "So you haven't tasted the dead skin one?"

Dear Lord, that must have been what he had eaten yesterday. The unfathomable sensation it left on his tongue brought shivers up to his spine. It made him want to go to the nearest bathroom and puke whatever food sitting in his tummy, but even before he could stand and leave Harry was cackling up again with that annoying laughter of his. "Quit over reacting Tony. There's no dead-skin flavored ones in there. Just the usual: blood, snot, tears."

That didn't exactly help the matters.

At all!

Tony stuck his tongue out. It was childish but he felt like doing it. "Let's see if you can cross without spilling water everywhere." Around the kitchen floor were glasses of water, half full and upside down. Tony specifically spaced each one of it far enough for his small feet to cross that Harry would have a hard time traversing without getting himself wet.

"Are you mad? It seems to me you polished the floor with oil so I would slip."

Tony nodded in agreement and cheerfully added, "And spill water everywhere." There was no really other choice but to gather Tony's mess and start cleaning them up. It would be a slow process for Harry but who cares? Tony certainly didn't as he cackled internally. He felt as if he was a super villain in his super evil lair with lightning raining down on earth for additional background as he witness Harry looking like a grumpy old man scolded by his mother.

One of Harry's hands reached for the back of his neck massaging it for relief. A low grumble escaped his lips and Tony smirked as he heard it.

"Where's my magic when I need it?"

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Pressing his ears on the cold door, Tony listened at the sounds of water raining down to tiled floor of the bathroom. After Harry crossed the kitchen, sliding and tumbling at each step he took, he looked like a stray cat who had a misfortune to bathe in the sewer and Tony gleefully stared at Harry while his caretaker frowned, preparing his breakfast – blueberry pancakes, just like what he wanted. But his games were far from over. Christmas vacation of doing nothing even if his mother adamantly corrected him how this week was meant for relaxing… brought Tony agony. The child would rather spend it on activities but his parents refused.

So Tony ended up bothering Harry instead.

Harry immediately went to the showers after he cleaned the mess his charge made and after telling Tony to behave himself while he was gone for a few minutes. Yeah, right. Like the word 'behave' coincides with a six-year old as Tony rolled his eyes. His hands reached for a clear tape he pocketed and pulled a long string of it, careful not to create any sounds that might get Harry's attention, and stuck it across the door. He made sure there was enough tape to catch Harry's foot or at least half of his leg before hiding.

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It didn't take Tony that long to wait for Harry to exit the bathroom and fall onto his trap. He saw Harry trip and land on the floor he covered with tomato sauce.

"ANTHONY!"

The said person cackled. He feared that if he approached Harry, the man would attack him with hugs to spread more sauce, so he stayed hiding from under the couch his mother favored among others and laughed while gripping his stomach.

"Bloody hell child."

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"Anthony, what are you doing down there? You should know by now that the floor is anything but clean no matter how much the maids spent their time cleaning it." said Howard who knelt down just to frown at his son's hunched form beneath the sofa he was supposed to sit on. "Get away from there. Your mother wouldn't like it seeing you with colds especially when her friends invited the three of us to this… show." That certainly sparked an interest to Tony, hearing the obvious distain at the show they were to attend. And the fact that he was included – Howard only allowed Tony to come along when it was important or when it could benefit his child's future but those conferences were usually what his father consider as fun.

So what show could possibly earn his father's ire but would let Tony join?

Despite what Tony found an intriguing situation, he pushed his thoughts aside and asked his father, "Can Harry come?" Howard, taken aback with Tony's question, opened his mouth to explain only to close it again as Tony appealed with a barrage of words.

"I know you have plenty of guards to protect and stalk us if we need anything, but I really want Harry to come dad. Just this time, please? I promise to behave and impress your friends and play nice with the other kids and obey your rules so I wouldn't end up in danger. So please?"

The stare Tony received weighted heavy as if his father was analyzing his sentence similar on how he would treat a mathematical equation. He gulped, not knowing how his father will react, and hastily added, "YousaidsoyourselfHarryismycaretaker!" Now, Tony can't be quite sure if Howard got what he said since the look he has been giving hasn't changed.

"And I remember saying you're somewhat a handful." Howard sighed (in amusement) and shook his head (in disbelief), "Is that really the reason why you wanted him to come?"

"Yeah!" Tony nodded, at this moment, he was already preparing for the dreaded 'no' and come up with extra excuses to bother his father with. If there was anything he'd learned from his mother it is that: the more he annoyed Howard, the more his father would relent.

But Howard surprised him by asking another question "Is this really what you want?" Tony's mouth dropped open, thrown off the balance at their reversed situation. Never before has his father asked what Tony wanted, it was always the younger Stark asking for this and that, for more of this and less of that. And with Howard wordlessly granting whatever his son's requests were.

With his eyebrows raised, Howard repeated his query, "Is this really what you want Anthony?"

Why was it important again for his old man to know what his motives? Tony thought, it wasn't like he's up to anything bad. The child just wanted for his friend come and join with him being tormented by the dullness of his father's show, what was wrong with that?

So Tony answered, "Yeah!" nodding more vigorously.

"Okay, alright Tony." Howard said, surrendering. "As long as you're true with your promise Harry can come."

"Yeah!

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It wasn't a conference with other old businessmen like what Tony had in mind. They weren't in a stuffy well-polished room served with cinnamon rolls and coffee, or in a theater-esque area for his father's presentations. Instead, the place they were dropped by his chauffer filled the area with tents of bright colors, rides for children and stalls that served foods the duo have never seen before.

Music was being played when someone shriek, followed by silly laughter and a dozen little boys chasing a pig… in a tutu?

"Tony, we're in a carnival." Harry scratched the side of his head as if he was questioning himself or his charge or if what he said wasn't an inquiry at all.

Tony, who's equally confused with whatever is happening, replied, "I know. I really thought the show dad said would be one of his…"

"Machines? Another flying car of his? Plots for the future?"

Rolling his eyes, Tony grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him forward, moving on quite fast from the confusion, "You know what I mean, Harry. But we're already in a carnival, so let's play! I say go to that one!" The booth Tony pointed had tiny balloons of different colors pinned by the wall and large, teddy bears hanged to the ceiling.

A middle aged man patiently waited for the duo to approach before saying, "Ahh customers! Well if it isn't the littlest Stark, care for a game or two for the prize of this panther?" No prizes caught Tony's eyes but when the man grabbed a black toy cat from under the table, he thought that perhaps this was what he could play with. It wasn't cuddly like the other toys and nowhere near fluffy like those teddy bears. In fact, the toy was made of blocks.

A puzzle!

"What should I do to get that?" Tony asked eying the toy and then at the balloons and then back at the toy.

Harry had his eyebrows raised at his charge's questions, but kept his mouth shut as the worker brought out eight darts. "Pop eight balloons and you can get whatever you like. Five for the smaller toys and three for candies."

The steel was sharp and glinted when Tony turned it on an angle. That was good he supposed because if it's dull then he has less chance of winning the toy he wanted. "That should be easy." The small boy said arrogantly for he had his brain to think of the simple way to win, his father said so himself 'You just have to come up with a rather good strategy'. Placing the required amount of money to play at the counter, Tony immediately grabbed one dart and thought how much force he needed to pop one balloon at a distance of X.

He even started imagining dots for the trajectory, with his one eye closed.

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"I don't get it Harry! I've used forty seven darts already, one of them should be able to pop a balloon! Even just a single one!" Tony ranted as he held his forty-eighth dart in his trembling hand – trembling, because in rage not because he's already crying in frustration. Big boys don't cry, he thought.

Beside them, a blonde little girl in pigtails played and let her dart fly. It hit her fifth balloon in the process to which the man manning the booth whistled, "Well, little miss here has more luck that this fellow." He laughed good heartedly at Tony's pouting red face (and his "Don't you dare give her my panther) and gave the girl what she wanted, a gray stuffed whale.

"Maybe I'm just more talented than him."

Tony spluttered, and if possible it looked like his blush got further intense, glared at the girl's retreating back. "Do you even know who I am brat!"

She paused and stuck her tongue at Tony, "You're the brat, midget!" and left.

Harry smiled at the childish exchange and asked, "Tony. Are you sure you want to waste your money on this? There are more games for you to try on like that one." It was a tall structure with a bell on top and Harry had seen people try to hit the circular machine-like thing he had no idea what it was called.

"Harry." His charge started, still holding onto his last dart, and rolled his eyes heavenward, "That's a strength test. You'll damage your confidence."

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"The games are a challenge young man and it is for you to have fun." They had their chance on many other games with Harry helping whenever Tony losses his cool as the former pity his charge each and every time they left empty-handed.

"But how am I supposed to have fun when I'm not winning?" He grunted while uncovering the last candy, they (actually it was Harry) won at the ring toss.

It's hard to explain something so simple to someone so intelligent, Harry concluded that apart from Tony's mental power his age caused him to be more stubborn – or maybe it was just a trait he got from one of his parents? – that he's unwilling to change his outlook unless elaborated in diagrams, charts, equations.

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The pair stood at the overly bright entrance the show the Starks is invited to come and they couldn't help to hide a grimace at the sight of clowns parading beside them – smiling, laughing and clapping – all together happy like the sunshines they are. Their enthusiasm clearly isn't shared with Tony partly because he is a man of science and he decided from here on that he dislike clowns simply due to the animated way they act. And apparently, it also isn't shared with Harry based on how the corner of his lips dip into a frown and minutely rolling his emerald eyes whenever they wave at him.

How on earth can his father agree to come at a magic show when the two knew full well that magic is just a gimmick, a carefully planned situation that involves mirrors, smokes, strings and other devices? Point is, it is fabricated to entertain people. No, Tony believed that the better question is "Why we here?"

"The question is still stuck on your mind Tony? I thought we already solved the problem." Guests are being ushered inside the expansive, multicolored canopy shelter where the supposed magic happens and the two followed the crowd. They didn't have to wait for Tony's parents as the couple is inside ahead of time to avoid mundane discussions with reporters and fans.

Tony wanted to see clearly the magician's performance, hence, why Harry is profusely apologizing to anyone the boy pushed just to be in the front row. Really, he doesn't have to do that because they already have seats reserved for them.

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"How did Henley escaped the tank!" Tony asked wildly at no one in particular. He's too engrossed at the trick (he still refuses to say magic) the infamous escape artist did.

Beside him, Harry muttered to himself, "She apparated maybe?"

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"I don't buy any of this mentalism act. There's no logic behind. No explanation. No science." Tony pouted, his cheeks always got fatter when he does that. "I bet that baldie is bluffing and doesn't know what he's doing."

Beside him, Harry had his chin resting onto the knuckles of his hand in deep thought as he muttered words Tony couldn't understand. His caretaker is being weird again. "The Imperious Curse? Impossible. He's a muggle… or disguising to be one?"

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"There's a cheat behind that I'm sure of it." Tony grumbled unhappily, rather tired from commenting at every performance they got. Thankfully, this is the last as it is getting late.

People watched the woman, who excitedly volunteered for the charming magician, nodded and answered every question Daniel asked – about the usual 'is this your card?' trick but to everyone's surprise…

…she smiled, shook her pretty blonde hair and said, "No, I'm afraid it isn't."

"Oh? No?" He started shuffling his cards again in fast rhythm as if it was to distract himself from his failed magic, but Harry can visibly the charming personality fading gradually to show a hint overconfidence enough to convince the wizard that this is just what the man wanted. "Well. What did I tell you from the very beginning? That the closer you think you are –"

"– the less you actually see." Tony and Harry intoned amongst others from the crowd while the magician threw all of his cards in air. It flew, in large impossibly large amounts as though his standard 52 cards deck is multiplied into thousands.

Every single one of them landed on the maroon colored floor, facing up.

"Is this your card?"

Suddenly, there were cheers all over the place, people standing up, and cameras flashing at the crudely made collage of the card the woman had: ace of hearts.

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Have you seen NYSM2?! Finding Dory?! Central Intelligence?! Tell me 'it's hella awesome, you're gonna watch it again' or don't talk to me at all.

No, haha just kidding I love reviews. As I've said from the previous chapter, I don't really intend for this to be a serious fic and updates come only when inspired or when someone suggested an interesting event because honestly… I don't really have a concrete idea where this story is going.

But! Since it took me so long to update... Here. Enjoy my drabble gift.

The second the Starks' family limousine arrived at the front, Howard immediately raced inside separating his being from his wife, his child and Harry to their own as he took three (even four) steps up the stairs muttering towards his lab.

His left hand held tissues, full of numbers and illegible writing while his other hand held a pen (it has a unicorn on top) he borrowed from Anthony.

He had a new breakthrough apparently and his need to write all of the information he'd seen and gathered at the magic show is eating him alive. Every single detail must be recorded. Any glaring mistakes must be written and corrected. Howard couldn't afford to lose any data and his brain, no matter how brilliant it is, isn't helping at all with it piling science after science…leaving what he wanted to remember buried.

A leather bounded notebook, innocently seating on his table was snatched from a giddy scientist as he started to scribble away his breakthrough.

He faintly heard the head butler calling him for dinner.

But food can wait. So will sleep.

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[The Next Day]

"Where are my notes!" Howard screamed in panic, his trembling hands flipping the pages of his notebook in mad search for his breakthrough. However, to Stark's surprise it was gone – EVERYTHING WAS GONE – the moment his eyes fluttered open at the mornings rays of sun.

His notebook is blank.

His research paper is clean.

The charts, the model he drew…vanished!

"Who! Was in my lab?!"

"It can't be gone… it can't be gone."

"What did I do wrong?"

"Am I forgetting something?"

"Did I lose it!"

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Harry heard all of Howard Stark's furious rambling, even the sounds of paper rustling as the elder man vigorously hunt his elusive from the mess he created.

And the wizard has inkling on what the problem is as he approached his charge's spacious bedroom.

"Tony, you sadist. I'm sure you're absolutely pleased tricking your father with invisible ink."