Amelia stood by the door waiting for Tony and Rhodey gathered their things. "We need to visit Gringotts," Amelia said as they were done.
Tony blinked. "Grin—what now? Is that some new startup? Because I'm all for meeting new investors."
Amelia raised an eyebrow. "Gringotts is the goblin bank. It's not exactly a startup—more like the oldest and most secure bank in the wizarding world."
Tony's jaw dropped slightly. "Hold up. A goblin runs a bank? Like... little pointy-eared guys with gold teeth? That's your idea of a financial institution?"
Rhodey chuckled. "Apparently, goblins have been running the wizard economy for centuries. Strict security, vaults deep underground, and apparently, a bit of magical flair."
Tony shook his head, still trying to process it all. "Okay, so why are we going to their bank?" Then he points at Rohedy. "How did you know? And why never told me?? Betrayal!"
Rohedy did felt guilty, he usually tells Tony everything but this one, he kept It a secret. "Sorry tones, didn't wanted to keep it a secret but being part of military somethings needs to be private... As for knowing about them, American wizard told me, No, I cannot reveal their name, classified"
Tony pouts, however he doesn't asked any further. Besides, he can't guilt trip his honey bear, Rohedy never hides anything unless absolute necessary.
Amelia clasped her hands. "We need to find out who's been putting money into Harry's name. Every magical child has a guardian—someone responsible for their safety and well-being."
Rhodey nodded. "That's where I get suspicious about the payments Vernon Dursley's been receiving. We've traced funds coming into his accounts but never found the source."
Tony frowned. "So Harry's got a secret bank account, and his uncle's cashing checks? That doesn't sound like a coincidence."
Amelia nod. "Exactly. Whoever is watching over Harry from the magical world has been trying to help, in their own way."
Tony crossed his arms. "You said every child has a magical guardian? What does that even mean?"
Amelia looked at him thoughtfully. "Think of it as a protector assigned to ensure the child's safety—especially important in cases like Harry's. They're legally bound to intervene if the child's in danger."
Tony's eyes narrowed. "And what about Harry's parents? What happened to them? You called Harry 'the Chosen One' and 'the Boy Who Lived.' What's that about?" It has been bothering him a lot when Amelia said that, it rubs him in a wrong way.
Amelia's expression grew somber. "Harry's parents, James and Lily Potter, were killed protecting him from a dark wizard known as Voldemort. Harry survived an attack that should have killed him, which is why he's known as 'the Boy Who Lived.' The 'Chosen One' because he's destined to face and defeat that evil."
Tony exhaled slowly, the weight of the story sinking in.
"So... this kid's my half-brother, survived some magical apocalypse, living with terrible people, and now there's goblin banks, magical guardians, and dark wizards involved?"
Amelia nodded. "Welcome to the magical world, Mr. Stark."
Tony ran a hand through his hair. "I'm going to need a drink."
Rhodey smiled. "I think you're going to need a lot more than that."
Later that afternoon — just outside a peculiar-looking building in London
Amelia stopped in front of an old, crooked-looking pub nestled between a bookstore and a record shop.
Tony tilted his head. "That it?"
Amelia nodded. "The Leaky Cauldron."
Rhodey squinted. "What?"
Tony frowned, looking at him. "You don't see it?"
Rhodey glanced back at the space between the two shops. "All I see is a brick wall, man."
Tony's eyes narrowed. "But I see it—clear as day. Old pub, flickering sign, door barely hanging on... smells like ashtray and stew." How odd.
Amelia folded her arms, almost expectantly. "If what you told me is true, then I'm not surprised. You may not be a wizard, Mr. Stark, but with magical blood in your veins, you're not quite Muggle either." It is possibility maybe Stark could be related to Potter family.
"Muggle?" Tony raised an eyebrow. "That sounds... vaguely insulting." She had said it before and it slipped his head to ask her about the story of said word.
"It's just what we call non-magical people. No offense intended," she said with a faint smile. "Anyway, You put your hand on his shoulder"
Rhodey stepped closer to Tony and put a hand on his shoulder. The moment he did, the building shimmered into view for him. He blinked. "Okay. That's new."
"It's a perception charm," Amelia explained. "Your connection to Tony lets you bypass it temporarily."
They walked inside, and Tony instantly took in the scene—witches and wizards huddled over butterbeer, a floating broom in the corner, and a few wide-eyed children watching said floating broom with awed. Probably Muggleborn, Amelia noted.
The barkeep, a hunched and toothless man, looked up. "Madam Bones! Been a while."
"Hello, Tom," she greeted. "Just passing through. We're heading to Diagon Alley."
Tom gave a crooked grin and nodded.
Tony leaned in, muttering to Rhodey. "This feels like walking into a fantasy-themed speakeasy."
Amelia led them out the back door into a small brick courtyard.
Tony stared at the brick wall in front of them. "So... is this the part where we say a secret password? Maybe rub a lamp? 'Open Sesame'?"
Amelia gave him a look. "Not quite." She pulled out her wand and tapped several bricks in a precise pattern.
With a low rumble, the bricks retracted and spiraled open like a mechanical puzzle. A narrow passageway unfolded into a breathtaking scene.
Diagon Alley.
The cobblestone street was lined with shops of every shape and color, each stranger than the last. A cauldron shop bubbled ominously. Owls hooted in a towering post office. A robe store had mannequins that moved on their own. And further down, more.
Tony stared, mouth slightly open. "You have got to be kidding me."
Rhodey just gawked, taking it all in. "This... is something else."
"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Amelia said with a calm smile, as the sounds of the magical world buzzed around them.
Tony glanced sideways at Rhodey. "Okay, this is definitely not Vegas."
As they made their way down Diagon Alley, Tony couldn't help but glance into every window they passed—quills writing on their own, strange creatures in cages, floating books and candy that changed colors mid-air. His eyes sparkled like a kid in a toy store.
"I need... like… at least five of these," Tony muttered, pointing at enchanted goggles floating mid-air in a display.
Rhodey laughed. "Don't touch anything, man. You don't even know what half this stuff does."
"That's exactly why I need it. For science," Tony replied.
Amelia chuckled under her breath. "Curiosity like that is what usually lands Muggle-borns in potions accidents."
Tony raised a brow. "Okay, you said 'Muggle' again. What do you call someone who can't do magic but can see it?"
Amelia considered it. "There's no official term for that—it's rare. Sometimes we refer to them as Squib-sensitives or just say they have magical ancestry. The Ministry isn't fond of defining it strictly."
Tony scoffed. "Of course not. That'd be too convenient."
As they turned a corner, the towering white structure of Gringotts Wizarding Bank loomed ahead. The marble gleamed under the enchanted daylight, and goblin guards stood by the doors with razor-sharp armor and grim expressions.
Tony stopped dead in his tracks. "Real goblins," he whispered. "That one just blinked at me."
Rhodey eyed the guards warily. "They don't look like they're here for customer service."
"They're not," Amelia said as she approached. "Don't disrespect them, and they won't take offense."
Tony leaned toward Rhodey. "She says that like they won't rip our arms off if we say something wrong."
Inside the bank, the massive vaulted ceiling stretched over rows of goblins scribbling furiously with quills, coins clinking and enchanted carts zipping across rails overhead.
Tony spun in place like he was at a Stark Expo. "This place makes Wall Street look like a lemonade stand."
Amelia stepped up to one of the counters, where a particularly aged goblin with spectacles was writing something in an ancient-looking ledger.
"I'm here to speak to my family manager," she said calmly. "Mr. Skullbrine. The Bones account."
The goblin didn't even glance up. He kept writing.
Tony tilted his head. "Is he ignoring you, or is he—"
"He hears me," Amelia said without irritation. "They're... particular."
"Is he deaf?"
"No."
Tony looked back and forth. "Then is this a power move or—"
Before he could finish, the goblin suddenly muttered something in a language Tony didn't recognize—guttural, and sharp. Is this guy sick? Throat infection maybe?
A younger goblin appeared from behind and gave a polite, if stiff, nod. "This way. Mr. Skullbrine will see you now."
Tony and Rhodey exchanged looks before following Amelia down a private corridor, flanked by stone walls carved with runes and glowing faintly. Tony whispered to Rhodey, "This is the most terrifyingly cool bank I've ever been in."
Rhodey nodded. "I feel like we're either going to meet a wizard accountant or a Goblin King"
The trio stepped into an ornate office lit by crystal sconces and enchanted candles floating above a desk carved from black obsidian. A goblin sat behind it—aged, sharp-eyed, and cloaked in dark green robes lined with silver. He looked up, his long fingers steepled, eyes gleaming like molten gold.
"Manager Skullbrine," Amelia said respectfully. "Thank you for seeing us on short notice."
The goblin inclined his head ever so slightly. "Your account is always a priority, Madam Bones. And these are...?"
She gestured. "Colonel James Rhodes—Muggle military. And Tony Stark."
Skullbrine's expression twitched slightly. "Ah. Stark Industries."
Tony gave a modest smile. "Still got brand recognition in goblin territory. I'm flattered."
"Not many does" Skullbrine replied dryly. "Why have you come?"
Amelia stepped forward and placed the documents on his desk—Howard Stark's private will, Henry West's findings, and copies of the evidence they gathered from Harry's supposed guardians.
"I need verification on the Potter inheritance and guardian filings. There's been a breach in magical law, and I believe someone interfered with the guardianship contract of Harry James Potter."
Skullbrine's eyes narrowed. He reached forward with clawed fingers, flipping through the documents with practiced efficiency. Tony noticed his nostrils flare at the scent of the parchment, almost like he was verifying authenticity by instinct alone.
Tony leaned toward Rhodey. "Why do I feel like I'm in front of magical IRS?"
"Because you probably are," Rhodey muttered.
Skullbrine paused, then looked up. "This is... deeply troubling. A magical guardian must be declared upon the death of magical parents. The Ministry is notified immediately. If this was tampered with..."
He didn't finish the sentence, but his tone made the implication clear.
Tony crossed his arms. "So, you're saying this wasn't just bureaucratic oversight?"
"I am saying, Mr. Stark," Skullbrine said coldly, "that someone may have used ancient blood seals or forged contracts to place the boy with a non-magical family without proper magical oversight."
Amelia frowned. "Then you'll investigate?"
"I already am." Skullbrine turned to a crystal on his desk, touched it, and murmured something. The crystal pulsed.
Moments later, another goblin entered—younger, lean, and alert.
"You summoned, Manager Skullbrine?"
"Fetch the Potter account manager. Immediately."
The goblin nodded and left swiftly.
Tony let out a low breath. "So what happens now?"
"We see," Skullbrine said with a gleam in his eye, "who has dared to misplace the heir of two ancient families—and tamper with Gringotts' records."