The boardroom felt as stale as the people sitting in it.
As Tony Stark walked in, the atmosphere shifted — just a little.His sunglasses stayed on until he reached the table. Then he removed them with slow purpose, revealing eyes not tired, but calculating. Sharp.
The room was a sea of old faces wrapped in smug entitlement, peppered with a few newer ones — the kind that were too fresh to know when to speak and too ambitious to stay quiet for long. Either way, Tony knew them all by their background checks and bank statements. These people had been walking the line for a long time. Some had crossed it.
Tony took his seat at the head of the long table, spun the chair just once — slowly — and then leaned forward.
"Good morning," he said, voice velvet and steel. "Let's not waste time. I've got a very full day of not being manipulated."
A few board members stiffened. One cleared his throat. "Mr. Stark, this is a quarterly—"
Tony held up a hand.
"Save it. First things first: I'm going to say some things, and you're going to listen. You may even cry. Emotionally or financially, that's up to you."
He clap his hand, and Jarvis projected files midair — legal ownership, defense contracts, tax dependencies, tech patents, and buried clauses from Howard Stark's era that not even S.H.I.E.L.D. dared to bring up.
"I know some of you think you run this place. I know others of you think you think you run this place. But let me say this clearly and loudly for the people in the back: No one controls a Stark."
The silence was deafening.
"This company bears my name. My blood. My intellect. And as of now, my unfiltered attention. You've misused resources. You've weaponized public trust. You've invited shadow agencies into decisions that should've stayed in-house."
He paused, stood slowly. "So we're going to clean house. Starting today."
Pepper who stood besides Tony's chair hide her smile very well, Finally, it is happening.
He pointed without hesitation. "Kinsey, out. Miriam Shaw? Gone. Alan Berkman, I never liked your cologne, and your off-shore laundering attempt few years ago? Sloppy. Security will escort you."
People were already rising, protesting, arguing.
"You can scream if you want. Doesn't change anything." Tony smiled without warmth. "Pepper, begin onboarding replacements. You know who I picked."
Pepper nodded as legal teams began triggering contracts in real-time.
Tony clapped his hands once. "Meeting adjourned. Go enjoy your golden parachutes while they last."
And just like that, the gods of the boardroom had been dethroned.
After the boardroom fireworks, Tony had one more meeting — a low-priority follow-up with an old project member from years ago. Pepper reminded him it was just a formality, but Tony's mind was already shifting gears. Maybe he'd let them back in, maybe not.
He strolled down the hall, loosening his tie, feeling a little smug. That didn't last long.
The private conference room was dimly lit. The windows let in the gold of the setting sun, casting warm rays across the polished floor.
"Hey there," Tony called casually as he opened the door. "Let's make this fast. I've got an appointment with a scotch bottle."
But as he stepped in, he froze mid-stride.
A man was already inside. Tall. Elegant. Blond hair slicked back with precision. Dressed in a sleek suit that probably cost more than most cars, he leaned slightly on a silver crane-shaped cane. But what caught Tony off guard were his eyes — one icy blue, the other storm gray — both gleaming with an intelligence that felt... old.
Tony glanced back at the room number.
Nope. Right room.
He raised a brow. "Uh… Do I know you?"
The man smiled, charming and calm. "Not yet. But I know you, Mr. Stark."
There was something in that voice — smooth, aristocratic, dangerous. Like a knife wrapped in silk. Not only that extremely attractive, No one would miss a guy like this for voice industry.
Tony's internal alarms went off. "I'm sorry, who are you exactly?"
The man gave a slight bow of the head. "Apologies. I tend to forget my name doesn't carry the weight it used to in these parts."
He extended a gloved hand. "Gellert Grindelwald."
Tony blinked. His mouth dropped slightly.
"Wait. Wait, wait— Grindelwald? Gellert Grindelwald? As in… Dark Wizard. Ancient history. Prison escapee. The wizarding Hitler with better cheekbones?"
The man tilted his head modestly. "A bit dramatic, but accurate enough."
Tony looked him up and down. He was expecting some dusty old corpse with a hunch and evil glowing eyes. Instead, he was greeted with someone who looked like he stepped out of a Bond villain photoshoot.
He blinked again.
"No. Nope. This is wrong. You're supposed to be old. Wrinkled. Balding. Creepy. Maybe wearing a skull for a hat. Not… whatever this is."
Grindelwald raised a curious brow.
Tony turned, looking up at the ceiling. "Okay, seriously, what is it with villains being stupidly hot? is this cosmic punishment? Are you trolling me?"
Grindelwald smiled faintly, amused.
Tony rubbed his face. "You know, some warning would've been nice. Like, 'Hey Tony, you might get surprise-visited by an international magical war criminal with a GQ jawline.'"
The smile on Grindelwald's face twitched — not smug, not mocking — but something more enigmatic.
"I'm not here to fight, Mr. Stark. Not yet. I came… to talk."
Tony folded his arms, not dropping his guard for a second. "Okay. Talk fast. Because if this is some 'join me, and together we'll rule the worlds' pitch, I'm gonna have to put a coffee mug through your face."
Grindelwald chuckled softly. "No, Mr. Stark. I'm not asking you to join anything."
He took a step forward, the cane clicking softly against the floor. "I came to warn you."
Tony's eyes narrowed. "Warn me? About what?"
Grindelwald's smile faded — just a little.
"Because you are at the center of something far older, far deeper, than you can imagine. Your legacy is not just science and weapons. It's woven into the roots of magic itself."
He paused.
"And others — far more dangerous than I — are beginning to realize it too."
The silence falls in the room, Tony stare long. "Right, Whiskey, I order that"
————
The soft clink of glass echoed through the room as Tony slid the whiskey toward Grindelwald, fingers tapping the table rhythmically. The lighting had dimmed, flickering just enough to cast long shadows across the marble floor. Outside, the city sparkled, unaware that one of the most dangerous wizards in history was sitting calmly in a billionaire's Stark company— sipping scotch.
Tony kept his posture relaxed, though his mind was already calculating Jarvis' scanning patterns, defensive protocols and emergency escape routes.
Still… he didn't press it.
Not yet.
Something about Grindelwald wasn't screaming immediate threat — not in the way Tony had expected. It was unnerving. Calculated. This was a man who knew exactly how to dance the line between war and conversation.
"So…" Tony began, his tone casual but his eyes sharp, "...wanna tell me how the hell you look like you just stepped off a runway in Milan instead of, I don't know, decomposing in a tomb? You're supposed to be — what? Over a hundred? You look like an elf from a high-budget fantasy series."
Grindelwald chuckled with genuine amusement, swirling the scotch in his glass. "Flattery, from a Stark. Now I've seen everything."
Tony leaned in slightly. "Cut the charm act. I want the truth, or at least the part of it you're willing to dress up and spoon-feed me."
The wizard nodded thoughtfully. "Fair enough. The truth is… this—" he gestured to himself "—was entirely unplanned."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "So what? You slipped, fell into a fountain of youth, and came out looking like a Bond villain?"
Grindelwald smirked, eyes glinting. "Not quite. After my… imprisonment, there were wards, ancient ones, tied to my magic. I had crafted them decades ago, in the event of death or magical suppression. Insurance policies. I didn't think they would ever activate — but time is a cruel storyteller."
He sat back, the amber liquid in his glass catching the light. "Somewhere between the collapse of Nurmengard and the ripples in time from the war against Voldemort, one of those failsafes activated. Instead of dying… I was pulled back. Younger. Restored. But not as I was. Changed. Marked by what I saw."
There was something, Pervical had mentioned, Tony narrowed his eyes. "Let me guess. Because you're a… Seer."
"Ah," Grindelwald gave a pleased nod, "so you were listening."
"I listen when people start casually rewriting the laws of physics and mortality. It's kind of my thing."
Grindelwald leaned forward. "A Seer is more than a prophet. We don't just see the future. We feel the tremors of time, like echoes in our bones. Some visions are clear. Others are fragmented, disjointed, half-metaphor, half-warning. I've seen worlds burn, Tony. I've seen towers fall. Heroes rise. And… you."
Tony stared at him, the name hanging in the air like smoke.
"You've seen me?"
"Long before you put on that suit," Grindelwald said softly. "You've always been a fixed point in the web of fate."
Tony scoffed, taking another sip. "Well, that's creepy."
"I agree," Grindelwald said with a dry smile. "But that's not why I came."
Tony's brow furrowed. "Then why—?"
Grindelwald interrupted calmly. "Because we're family."
Spfft! Tony spat out his drink with an impressive spray, choking violently as he coughed and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
"What?!"
Grindelwald didn't flinch. In fact, he looked rather pleased with the reaction.
Tony stood halfway from his chair, pointing at the wizard like he'd just told him he was also a unicorn. "Back up! Rewind. What the hell do you mean family?"
Grindelwald steepled his fingers, his voice quiet but firm. "I had an adoptive sibling. A sister. Her name was Julia Grindelwald. A witch of quiet talent but fierce conviction. She rejected everything — our name, our politics, our magic. She fell in love with a Muggle man. William Stark. Your great-grandfather."
Tony sat back down hard, the weight of those words crashing into him like one of his own repulsor blasts. "You're telling me… Julia Grindelwald… is my great-grandmother?"
Grindelwald nodded. "She chose exile. Love over legacy. She married William in secret, erased all magical records, and bound her bloodline to the Muggle world to protect it."
Tony blinked rapidly. "But— that would mean—" He ran both hands through his hair, visibly overwhelmed. "—that the Stark bloodline has magic in it." Of course, Tony is aware of this, But still holy shit, what a bomb.
"Dormant, suppressed… but yes," Grindelwald said. "You carry both legacies. Magic and machine. You are the crossroad, Tony. The bridge between two worlds that have long remained divided."
Tony stared at his glass, then at his hands, as if seeing them for the first time. "That explains a lot"
"Exactly," Grindelwald said softly. "Your magic may be sleeping… but it remembers."
Tony looked up slowly, eyes narrowed. "Why now? Why come to me with this now?"
Grindelwald met his gaze. "Because the world is changing. Magic is stirring. The veil between realms is thinning. And whether you like it or not, you are going to be part of what comes next. One way… or another."
The silence in the room grew thick.
Finally, Tony exhaled and leaned back again, trying to regain his cool.
"God," he muttered, glancing upward. "Why do you keep making the villains hot?"
Grindelwald actually laughed — a real, amused laugh. "That's the first compliment I've received in decades."
Tony sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "Alright, Cousin Wizard. You dropped the bomb. Now give me a minute to process before I freak out, build a magical Iron Man suit, and fly to Scotland to scream at my ancestors."
Grindelwald simply raised his glass in salute. "Take all the time you need, Anthony Stark. The past is patient… but the future? Not so much."