Work Text:
By the time the boys were ten, things had calmed down between Harry and Dudley as each found their own passions in their newfound family. Dudley focused more on learning and kept mostly to the lab with his dad and Uncle Bruce. He would never be as smart as they were, but he put more effort into it than Harry had ever seen him do. On days when their pop was out doing work, Harry snuck in and settled in a corner to draw.
Aside from art, Harry took to fighting ("It isn't fighting, it's defending yourself, son.") and would spend his days with their pop in the gym. Aunt Tasha and Uncle Clint came by often, but usually only with a slightly unwilling Dudley behind them. They insisted the two needed to learn how to fight along aide each other, two separate parts of the same machine. They had yet to beat their family, but they were at least strong enough to hold their own for a short time.
Harry knew Dudley was still a little uneasy about his magic, so he tried his hardest not to use it and only speak of it while alone with Uncle Thor. He had gotten really good at bottling it up, and Aunt Tasha approved, insisting it was better to be underestimated anyway. Thor would offer to have his brother come and teach Harry, but the entire tower vetoed that idea.
In the evening of Harry's eleventh birthday, Jarvis paused the festivities to inform them of an unidentified visitor on the Iron Man landing pad. The family was already moving before he finished and Harry let himself and Dudley be herded to Uncle Bruce's lab by Pepper and Happy. Because of the Hulk, it was the safest place in the building. Jarvis already had the video feed up and running, the sound muted just in case.
An old man dressed in the strangest bathrobe stood surrounded by the Avengers, his hands up in surrender and a smile on his face. Their pop was speaking and Harry frowned. He wanted to hear.
"Sound, Jarvis."
"…will ask you one more time before I let any one of them fire at you." Harry always did like when Pop became Captain. His protective Captain.
"I told you… I come from England. I wish to deliver a letter to Harry and explain a few things. As his guardians, I'm sure you will have questions."
More weapons came out of the Iron Man suit. "How about you give us the letter and leave my boy out of it."
The man looked around the group before focusing on their dad. Harry reached back to take Dudley's hand. "Are you Mister Rogers?"
"I am."
Behind them, Pepper snorted. "He loves saying that. You'd think he'd change his name already."
"Shh," Dudley hissed. "I wanna hear."
The old man had taken a step toward their dad. "Then it is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Albus Dumbledore and I am the Headmaster—"
"That's a crappy villain name," Clint said. Harry and Dudley grinned, as did their pop and Thor.
Dumbledore barely paused. "…Headmaster of Hogwarts. It is where Harry's biological parents attended their schooling."
"They're home-schooled," their pop said. "They don't need to go anywhere else."
"I'm sorry… They?"
Harry tensed and clutched tighter to Dudley's hand. "We should have said…"
"No, it doesn't matter." Dudley pulled Harry close, arms wrapping around the thinner frame. "It doesn't matter."
"Our sons," their pop continued. "They are home-schooled."
"Ah, forgive me, but this is an opportunity for Harry only. Your own children would not be accepted."
Thor spoke before their dad or pop could get in a word. "How dare you try to separate brothers as such! If Harry is worthy, then so is Dudley."
Dumbledore's eyes widened and Harry sighed. "Dudley? Dudley Dursley?"
"Rogers," the Avengers answered as one. Harry and Dudley grinned a little.
Dumbledore frowned, slowly turning to look at all of them. "I think you might be confused, gentlemen… and lady. Dudley Dursley and Harry Potter are related through their mothers. They are cousins."
Behind them, Pepper took in a sharp breath. Harry tried not to tense, glad that Dudley's arms still shielded him.
"My school is for the magically gifted," Dumbledore continued. "Harry is a wizard and he shall be trained well there."
"Do you have proof of your claims?" their pop asked. Harry could hear the heartbreak in his voice.
Dumbledore folded his hands in front of him. "Why don't we ask Harry?"
Their dad's voice suddenly filled the lab. "Harry? Dudley? Are you okay?"
Harry took a breath and pushed away from Dudley a little. "Are you mad at us, dad?"
"No, never. I just need to ask you a question…"
"You made us brothers," Dudley cut in, pulling Harry back against him with a glare. He knew their dad was watching them, but he didn't know from where. He glared across the room. "You made us brothers, dad, and we're brothers now."
On the screen, Iron Man lowered his weapons. It was a signal to the others, who lowered their as well. Only Aunt Tasha still had her gun trained on the back of Dumbledore's head.
"Living room," their dad said, echoing the command in the lab. "We have things to discuss, it seems."
Their dad didn't take off the suit once everyone arrived in the living room and Harry immediately ran to him. No offense to his pop, but he would rather have the option to fly away if needed. Dudley seemed to understand because he said nothing and simply sat as close to their pop as he could.
Dumbledore was alone on the biggest couch, sitting in the middle of it with a wide smile as he ignored the Avengers, who fanned out around the family of four. Harry hoped the old man was intimated.
"Speak," his dad commanded, and the old man did.
He told them of Harry's birth and a Prophecy. He explained to a crying Harry that his parents had died protecting him from an evil wizard. He spoke of leaving them with the Dursleys because they could offer protection (he got an hour lecture from Clint, of all people, after that comment – something about dragons). Chastised, he slowly continued about how Hogwarts was waiting for him to return and how the wizarding world missed their hero.
He barely got that word out before his dad leveled him with an outstretched, glowing hand. "You're telling us that you put him on a fucking—"
"Language," someone said.
"—f…freaking pedestal? A child no older than a year?"
"Mister Rogers, I can assure you that I—"
"Will get out of my house right now." A few weapons came out of the outstretched arm, adding to the threat. "And you will leave my family alone."
Dumbledore frowned. "I thought this building belonged to Tony Stark…"
"And right now, Tony Stark-Rogers is threatening you. Get out."
Dumbledore's eyes widened. "But—"
Their pop stood, Dudley in his arms. "The Mister Rogers you were probably looking for is me. I would appreciate it if you heed my husband's warning and leave. We would like to make sure our sons are not traumatized by your presence."
Beside them, Aunt Tasha smirked and Harry tried not to grin. Their dad mentioned once that Pop could never be rude, and he was sure Aunt Tasha had worked hard to turn that around.
"At least give the boy a choice." Dumbledore frowned and left a few packets on the table in front of him. "This is his acceptance letter and list of supplies for school. The Hogwarts Express leaves from Platform nine and three-quarters on September first. I do hope you allow him to attend."
Before they could say anything else, Dumbledore disappeared with a crack. Harry half-fell off his dad as the suit shut down. The cursing of technology and magic echoing inside the metal was the only reason they didn't tear it off of him to make sure his dad was still alive.
The packets stayed on the table for the next few days.