The elevator gave a soft chime as it reached the main floor of Stark Tower, the doors sliding open to reveal the elegantly lit living space.
There nestled into one of the armchairs, his posture perfectly straight and composed, sat Percival Graves.
He looked entirely out of place in the ultra-modern setting — the sharp cut of his dark coat, the faint silver trimming of his vest, and the glint in his calculating eyes made him look more like a portrait out of an old wizarding painting than a guest here.
Tony entered, a smirk already forming on his face as he strolled across the room with his hands in his pockets. "Graves," he greeted casually, nodding once. "So, how can I help you? Or are you here for a date? Because I gotta warn you — my calendar's full until next Tuesday, and I only kiss on the second dinner."
Percival let out a slow breath, amusement flickering at the corners of his mouth but never quite forming into a smile. "I wish I were," he said dryly. "But this is not a social visit. I'm here about something far more serious."
Tony's brows lifted. "Color me intrigued."
"Gellert Grindelwald," Percival said, his voice dropping to a quieter, heavier register. "He's escaped."
Tony's casual stance didn't shift, but his eyes narrowed just slightly. "Grindel-who-now?" He moved to the couch and dropped into it, spreading out with his usual relaxed bravado. "That supposed to mean something to me?"
"He's one of the darkest wizards in modern history," Percival explained, crossing one leg over the other with precise control. "Predecessor to Voldemort in terms of ideology, far more dangerous in terms of charisma. He started a war that nearly bled the magical world dry before Dumbledore stopped him. He was imprisoned in Nurmengard, a prison he built for his enemies."
Tony gave a low whistle, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "Sounds like a charming lunatic."
Percival's jaw tensed. "He's not just a lunatic. He's a strategist. Everything he does is deliberate."
"And you're telling me this why?" Tony asked, though his voice had already lost some of its earlier humor. "I mean, I'm flattered you think I'm important, but last I checked, I didn't make any hit lists in magical Europe."
"That's where it gets… complicated." Percival reached into his coat and withdrew a slim leather folder — official and old. Worn creases lined the edges, and it carried the faint scent of old parchment and enchantment.
Tony took it, raising a brow as he flipped it open.
Inside were clippings, pieces of aged newspapers, faded ink, and black-and-white photos enchanted to move subtly. Each one had a Stark in it — mostly Howard Stark, some with other unfamiliar relatives, but a few — more recent — showed Tony himself at press events, at Stark Expo, even a few blurry surveillance shots.
"What the hell…" Tony muttered, flipping through the file. "Why the hell does an ancient evil wizard have a scrapbook of my family? This guy got a Stark obsession? You think he's a fan?"
"I'm not joking," Percival said quietly. "And neither is he."
Tony leaned back, letting the folder rest on his lap as he ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, walk me through this. Why the stalker board?"
"My great-granduncle — Percival Graves — was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," he began, tone stiffening with pain barely masked. "Grindelwald kidnapped him. Took his place. Manipulated the Ministry from the inside for months before he was discovered."
Tony frowned. "You're his namesake."
Percival nodded. "I grew up cleaning the wreckage he left behind. And now he's free again — and he left behind this." He gestured to the file. "Hidden beneath his cell, behind layers of dark enchantments. He wasn't just obsessed with power. He was obsessed with legacy. Influence. And your family… has always straddled two worlds. Science and magic."
Tony went quiet, flipping through one of the old articles again. A young Howard Stark at a diplomatic event. Something written in German in the corner. "My dad never mentioned this. Hell, I didn't even know we had a magical lineage until recently."
"It's buried. Intentionally," Percival said. "I believe Grindelwald knew something. Something about your family that ties into his goals. That makes you… a potential target."
Tony chuckled dryly, but it wasn't amused. "Add him to the list. I've government agents and some idiots jealous petty people trying to kill me. What's one more?"
"I'm not here to scare you," Percival said firmly. "I'm here because I want to help. I want to station myself here, in New York, with your permission. Keep an eye on things. If Grindelwald is watching… we'll be watching back."
Tony looked at him long and hard, tapping a finger against the edge of the folder. "You're not telling me everything. This isn't just about protection, is it?"
Percival didn't answer immediately. Then, after a moment of silence, he said quietly, "No. It's not."
Tony leaned back, eyes narrowing.
"There's something more, isn't there?"
Percival's gaze met his, sharp and unreadable. "Yes. And I'll tell you. But not here. Not yet. Because what I know… if it's true… it could change everything. About your family. About your future. About what Grindelwald really wants."
Tony exhaled slowly and closed the folder. "Well then. Looks like I better clear my schedule."
Fuck, No one is gonna like this news at all.
———
The holographic call connected, and the smirking face of Sirius Black appeared mid-yawn.
"Merlin, you really like calling at the weirdest hours," Sirius grumbled, scratching his chin. "What is it this time, Tony? Miss me?"
Tony leaned back in his chair, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. "Trust me, if I was calling because I missed you, I'd at least put on a shirt and some champagne music in the background."
Sirius rolled his eyes. "Charming."
The teasing faded as Tony's expression turned more serious. "I have a new bodyguard now, his name's Percival Graves — and he dropped a bomb on me.Like something that shouldn't ever exist..." Tony rubs his face. "Grindelwald... This uhh dark old dude is after me"
Sirius's face fell, eyebrows drawing together. "Bloody hell… You're sure?"
"Positive." Tony grabbed a folder from his desk and opened it. "Guy had a whole Grindelwald-themed scrapbook. Guess who starred in it?"
Sirius's brow furrowed. "You?"
"Me. And my old man. Mostly Howard. Dozens of clippings. Notes. Photos. Some even enchanted to move." Tony leaned forward. "Percival thinks Grindelwald's got a bigger plan — something that ties into my family."
Sirius exhaled slowly, visibly shaken. "That's… disturbing. What are you gonna do?"
"That's the thing," Tony said, rubbing his temples. "If I move too openly, he could come after me… and worse — Harry. You. Everyone."
Sirius nodded, the old soldier behind his humor surfacing. "Then lay low. For now. We've got things handled here. Grindelwald's no fool — he wouldn't move rashly either. We'll handle things on this side. You handle your end. Just… be careful. Merlin... I thought it was rumors! Prophet doing some nonsense but holy shit... You better be careful"
"I hate hiding," Tony muttered. "Feels like cowardice."
"It's not cowardice," Sirius said quietly. "It's strategy. And it's protecting the people who matter."
Tony gave a reluctant nod, then changed the topic. "So how's the cottage rebuild going?"
Sirius brightened. "It's coming along well, surprisingly. Goblins are efficient — when you pay them properly, of course. They've been reconstructing the foundations using the original magical blueprint. Remus and I insisted the nursery be left exactly as it was — just restored, not changed."
Tony smiled faintly. "Harry will like that."
"I hope so," Sirius murmured, then added, "We'll have it ready by Christmas. You'll see."
"Good." Tony smiled. "We'll talk soon."
"Stay alive, genius," Sirius smirked, then ended the call.
Tony closed the connection and sighed, leaning back in his chair, staring at the ceiling for a moment. The silence lingered — until it was broken by the click of heels and the familiar sound of a door sliding open.
Pepper Potts strode in, tablet in hand, radiating her usual efficiency with a hint of impatience. "Tony, you've got a meeting in thirty minutes. Board-related. It's important."
Tony groaned. "I'd rather rebuild current board again."
"I'm not joking," she said, raising an eyebrow.
Tony rubbed his face but then suddenly paused, an idea forming in that brilliant mind of his. He stood up abruptly and walked over to the old stack of dusty boxes in the corner. Pepper watched him, confused.
"What are you doing?"
Tony didn't answer right away. He rummaged through the boxes, throwing out old manuals, project logs, half-melted circuit diagrams until finally — he froze. "Found it."
He pulled out a faded manila folder marked with his father's name and the Stark seal. Inside were typed reports, memos, and — more importantly — classified documents stamped with the S.H.I.E.L.D. insignia.
Tony flipped through it, eyes widening with each page until a grin split his face. A short, sharp laugh escaped him.
Pepper blinked. "What's so funny?"
Tony looked up, still chuckling. "My old man, Howard Stark… owned a secret intelligence division. Guess which one?"
Pepper frowned. "S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Remembering what Tony told her about Howard's brand group he made with Peggy who is Tony's god mother.
"Ding ding ding." Tony slapped the folder. "It's all here — signatures, ownership agreements, even his original foundation orders. Technically speaking, the Stark name still has authority over it. I've got inherited rights they never revoked."
Pepper raised a brow. "Wait. Are you saying… you can control S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
Tony beamed. "Exactly. They've been using our tech, our patents, our strategies. And Jarvis just reminded me — we own 70% of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s shares, and their tax structure still runs through Stark subsidiary networks. So…"
He spun and pointed at her. "We can sue the hell out of them for every unauthorized use of Stark property. Even retroactively."
Pepper looked stunned. "What does that have to do with the meeting?"
Tony's grin widened. "Those meetings? They were setups. Little PR traps laid by S.H.I.E.L.D. or their wannabe controlling partners to box me in, provoke me, or leak something juicy. They want me to make a mistake."
Pepper's jaw dropped. "You're kidding. You've had me sit through hours of those ridiculous meetings—!"
"I know, I know, I'm sorry," Tony said quickly, holding up his hands. "I'll make it up to you. I'll buy you those Italian heels you liked — the ones with the red sole."
Pepper narrowed her eyes. "I'm going to hit you with those shoes."
Tony winced. "Fair."
Pepper crossed her arms. "So… what now?"
Tony smiled, eyes gleaming with mischief and purpose. "Now? I go to this meeting. And for once, I don't play defense"
He should had done this before but it's never too late, This ends here.