Chapter Text
The non-magical world knew of a Lord Peverell.
They heard of his deeds, his charities, orphanages, disaster relief, international accords. While World leaders spoke of him with friendliness and some caution, none of the outside world had ever seen him.
And that was how Harry James Potter wanted it.
The war had been bigger than anyone realized.
At first, Voldemort had been a British problem, A dark wizard terrorizing a single country. But power and fear were never so easily contained.
As the war in Britain escalated however, dark forces across the world had begun rising in Voldemort’s shadow. Death Eater cells formed in Europe, Asia, and the Americas, all waiting for their chance to strike. The Statute of Secrecy had barely managed to keep most of it hidden, but the entire world had been at risk. So when Harry Potter finally ended it, He hadn’t just saved Britain, He had saved the world. And so By fifteen, Harry Potter was more than just The Boy Who Lived.
He was Lord of the houses Potter, Black, Peverell and Gryffindor. He was a war hero, a knight- personally knighted by the queen, a commander even. Some whispered he was the second coming of Merlin.Others feared him as a kingmaker, a man whose influence had reshaped magical governments across the globe.
But Harry didn’t care about any of that. To him what mattered was rebuilding.
For a year after Voldemort’s fall, Harry had dedicated himself to cleaning up the mess. The British Ministry was a disaster, corrupt officials scrambling for power or escape, old laws designed to suppress Muggle-borns still in place, Death Eater sympathizers trying to weasel their way back into society.
Harry had burned it all down with the help of Ron, Hermione, Neville, Daphne Greengrass, Draco Malfoy( he's still a prick– but they became colleagues of a sort , dare say friends, family even) and other like-minded witches and wizards, he had torn through the old guard. Laws were rewritten, Corruption was rooted out, Magical Britain was forced, kicking and screaming, into a new age.
But power had its price. Harry is so so TIRED DAMNIT.
And so it is.
By sixteen, Harry was an enigma, He appeared when necessary, at Ministry meetings, international summits, or as a consultant for the Aurors. Otherwise, he disappeared from public life.
Rumors swirled. ( OFCOURSE!!! Won't they always? *Scoffs*)
Some believed he had ascended into some higher magical existence. (Ha!!)
Others thought he had left Earth entirely.
(Harry: It's actually a good idea, can we do it Her—
Hermione: NO!!!)
The truth was, He was raising a child.
Teddy Lupin was only a 2 year baby when the war ended, orphaned before he could even say his parents’ names.
Harry helped raising him from a baby with Andy but she soon died of grief. Harry refused to let him grow up alone.
By law magical or not, Harry would have been too young to formally adopt him, but at sixteen, and as a noble lord at that, he had every right to take Teddy in as his own, afterall he emancipated himself as soon as he turned 13 to protect himself from those who wanted to use him, using old laws and last of line as a loophole.
Teddy was his son in all the ways it matters. And so, when Harry had finally set everything in order, when Britain no longer needed him… (There were objections but he has long learnt to ignore them.)
He left. He took Teddy and moved across the ocean, settling in New York, America.
New York was different from Britain. The magical world here was stricter, more hidden, woven carefully around the edges of a city that never slept.MACUSA enforced the Statute of Secrecy with ruthless precision, and unlike the old families of Europe, American wizards long had learned how to blend in with Muggle society.
It was the perfect place for Harry to disappear and raise his son.
But just because he was out of the spotlight didn’t mean he was idle after all he had a son to rise and in a way that's more stressful.
Before leaving Britain, Harry had already completed his magical education along on the side. But unlike most wizards who stopped at standard NEWTs, Harry had pursued knowledge in multiple subjects.
By the time he turned sixteen, he had officially earned Masteries in: Healing, cause he didn't want be helpless again, Runes because.. well..it's like coding, which he loved before magic came into his life , Defense Against the Dark Arts because he doesn't want to die, thank you very much. Charms and Potions, cause from the moment he heard that his mum excelled in it, he decided he would master it as a tribute to his mum even if he hated his potions professor. Transfiguration, for the same reason except it's for his dad.
Apart from those he has extensive knowledge in Magical laws and Care of Magical Creatures.
His magical expertise was unmatched for his age, and even among older wizards, few could rival him. Over the years the countless nights he spent learning from the moment he realised that the magic world is not so safe, to both protect himself and his loved ones made sure of that fact.
(Thank goodness he inherited his father's intellect and not his playboy tendencies.)
But there was one area he had neglected —his non- magical education.
Harry had grown up in the Dursleys’ home, attending regular school as a child, but his academic studies had ended the moment he entered Hogwarts.
He was years behind in subjects like mathematics, science, and modern technology.
So, in his free time after the war and in- between being a father or in nights where he simply couldn't sleep, Harry dedicated himself to catching up. He read textbooks, studied basic history, learned about current politics and economics. He refused to be ignorant of the world he and most importantly- his only other direct bloodline - his father was part.
One day, Teddy would grow up in both the magical and Muggle worlds, and Harry refused to be unprepared for that.
Harry gets hives whenever he thought of Teddy asking a question about society, be it magical or not, and him acting as ignorant as Arthur Weasley is about muggle world.
The Potter townhouse in Queens was a safe haven. From the outside, it was an ordinary brick home, blending perfectly into the neighborhood. To the magical eye, it was a fortress, protected by the strongest wards and concealments magic could offer at date. The townhouse wasn't large or extravagant, but it was perfect. A quiet neighborhood, a decent-sized backyard, a place where no one knew him. To the outside world, he was just Harry Evans, an young consultant for law enforcement—a job and identity he'd created to protect Teddy in the Muggle world. He got a lot of weird looks for it, but he ignored them with practiced ease.
Here, Harry was just Harry Evans, a quiet young man raising a three-year-old, soon to be four.
No press. No expectations. No politics. Just peace. Because after everything, after war, politics, and being the center of global attention, Harry wanted a normal life. Or, at least, as normal as it could get.
(But peace never lasted.)
Because across the city, a fifteen-year-old named Peter Parker was swinging between buildings, fighting crime, and getting himself into far too much danger.
When he found out about Peter Parker, things became a little more complicated.
A teenager with enhanced abilities, swinging around Queens, trying to be a hero?
'It wasn’t his business'. That's what he kept telling himself from the moment he saw a kid changing into an onsie-slash-costume in a dark corner of a back ally and swinging away when he went out on a walk to clear his mind on a perticularly difficult night, a week after moving to Queens.
A while later, Harry saw the patterns of the said hero. young, Reckless, Inexperienced, And worst of all, He reminded Harry of himself. A boy who wanted to do the right thing no matter the cost, who would throw himself into danger without hesitation, who was too young to bear that weight all alone with no support system.
Luckily or unluckily, depending on how one looks at it, Harry didn't have to ignore that for long.
He had just picked up Teddy from daycare after work and was juggling a bag of groceries while the now four-year-old excitedly babbled about his day when someone crashed into him.
“Oh—uh—sorry about that!”
Harry steadied them both. He looked up. Peter Parker. Harry sighed internally. 'Of course.'
Parker looked up and exclaimed. “Hey! You’re new, right?”
Harry raised an eyebrow as if to say, 'Is it obvious?'/ 'How did you know?'
Peter shrugged. “Queens isn’t that big.” His eyes flickered to Teddy, who was staring intently.
Teddy let out adorable giggles spoke in baby tounge. “You are a clutz.”
Peter blushed slightly before laughing. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”
Harry smiled at the blush. 'He reminds me of a puppy.'
Parker looked at Harry and nodded toward Teddy. “Your little brother?”
Harry didn't pause for half a second before replying. “My son.”
Peter’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh." Before stammering out a "Cool."
Teddy beamed. “I know.”
Peter grinned some what strained . “Well—uh, welcome to Queens, I guess.”
Harry grinned at the least judgemental response. “Thanks.”
Peter hesitated, looking like he wanted to ask something, but a voice called from across the store.
“Parker! Get moving!”
Peter winced. “Right—uh, see you around?”
“Yeah,” Harry said. “See you around.”
Peter grinned, then jogged off.
As they continued shopping, Teddy tugged on Harry’s sleeve. “Is Peter our friend now?”
Harry smiled. “We’ll see, Teddy. We’ll see.”
It didn’t take long for Peter to notice him. Harry was, after all, hard to ignore. A sixteen-year-old single father, raising a toddler while working as a consultant? People talked and sue him, Peter was curious.
It was at the local café, where Teddy, the young charge of the single teen father had decided to make friends no matter the cost.
Peter had been sitting alone, reading over his school notes, when a small, giggling child ran up to him.
Teddy beamed. “Hi!”
Peter was surprised but beamed back and almost blinding Harry in the process, who watching what turned out to be a meeting of two blinding suns. "Hey!”
Teddy tugged at Harry’s sleeve. “Can I stay?”
Harry smiled while humming and nodded toward Peter. “That depends.”
Teddy turned to Peter with wide, hopeful eyes. “Can I?”
Peter, despite himself, grinned.
"Sure.”
A friendship began. After their first meeting, Peter Parker became a constant presence in Harry’s life. Teddy had simply taken a liking to him. That meant Peter was stuck with them.
Harry was… interesting. A sixteen-year-old raising a three-year-old while working a job? That wasn’t something you see everyday. And yet, somehow, Harry made it seem effortless sometimes. Peter wasn’t sure how, but the guy was calm, collected, and way too competent.
And after watching for a few weeks, for some reason, Peter wanted to impress him. Which was ridiculous. Because Harry wasn’t his teacher or mentor or anything. Just a guy in the neighborhood.
…Right?
Wrong.
Peter had once mentioned, offhandedly, that he wanted to get better at self-defense.
Harry had tilted his head thoughtfully and asked, “Do you want help with that?”
Peter exclaimed. “You know self-defense?”
Harry’s lips had curled slightly. “A little.”
(Draco: *rolls eyes and looks towards the sky* a little he says.)
That was how it started. Because Peter was too curious for his own good. Because Harry, despite being calm and friendly, had a sharp edge underneath. And because Peter, without realizing it, had been looking for guidance. Harry, for his part, had already decided to help him.
“Again.”
Peter groaned, rolling onto his back. “I hate this.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Then stop getting hit.”
Peter glared. “That’s your fault!”
Harry just grinned at him. They were training in Harry’s backyard for two months now, a space shielded from view where no one could see Peter get absolutely wrecked.
Peter had initially thought this would be easy. After all, he had enhanced strength and speed. How hard could it be?
Answer: Very.
Because Harry fast, Precise and Unpredictable. He didn’t waste a single movement. And worst of all, Peter had the distinct feeling that Harry was holding back.
“…Dude.” Peter sat up, breathless. “How the hell are you this fast?”
Harry just tilted his head which Peter thought was unfair to look that cute while kicking his ass and smirked. “Practice.”
Peter huffed. But even as he complained, he adjusted his stance, ready to try again.
Harry was impressed. Peter was learning and quick on the uptake.
Harry didn’t want Peter to be a good fighter; he wanted him to be a survivor. Every block, every parry, every lesson was a desperate hope, a silent plea to the universe.
'Don’t let him drown as a hero. Don’t let him lose everything. Just… let him always come back home.'