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"It's been far too long, Tony. Surely you're familiar with wizarding portraits?" Maria asked from within the painting, her smile radiant with maternal warmth.
"I haven't encountered many yet," Tony admitted, his words tumbling over each other in barely controlled excitement. "I've only mastered a handful of spells so far. Mom, what exactly is happening here? What does this involve—your soul? Some form of consciousness transfer?"
"The explanation is rather complex, darling," Maria replied with gentle amusement. "In your father's terms, I suppose I'm now an 'intelligent recording' of sorts. You should research the specifics yourself—I know how brilliant you are."
Tony dragged a nearby chair closer and settled into it, leaning forward intently. "Where's the old man? Aren't you two together?"
Maria's radiant expression flickered momentarily. She set down her delicate teacup, lifted a silver-framed photograph from the painted table, and turned it toward him with reverent care. "Look here—he's with me always. We've been watching over you constantly, Tony."
Tony studied the photograph within the portrait, falling silent before asking quietly, "So only wizards can become animated portraits?"
Maria nodded approvingly. "That's my Tony—straight to the heart of the matter. Though your father did leave you extensive recordings. I wonder how many you've discovered? From the moment I sensed we'd be leaving you, he recorded obsessively. I counted at least thirty videotapes."
"What?!" Tony shot upright, genuine shock replacing his earlier wonder. "Where did he hide them? I've never found a single tape!" This was absolutely true—after Howard and Maria's deaths, with Jarvis still alive to help, he'd torn the Stark estate apart searching for any trace of his parents. There had been no videotapes whatsoever.
Maria rose abruptly from her painted chair, alarm creasing her features. "Gone? But he stored them in the old mansion! How could they simply vanish?"
"Sir, Obadiah Stane is here to see you," FRIDAY's voice interrupted their urgent conversation.
"What brings him here now?" Tony frowned, preparing to have FRIDAY deny entry when the AI continued: "Sir, Mr. Stane possesses Level One clearance. He's already ascending the stairs."
Tony looked helplessly at Maria's portrait. "I'm afraid we'll need to pause this conversation, Mom."
Maria composed herself with practiced elegance, whispering urgently, "Tony, conceal your wand immediately. I'll masquerade as an ordinary portrait."
Tony glanced at his casual t-shirt, then at his conspicuous arm-length wand. Panic rising, he frantically searched for concealment just as Obadiah's footsteps echoed in the corridor. In desperation, he shoved the wand into a gap between his workbench sections. He could swear the usually gentle Maria was glaring at him with maternal fury, but Obadiah had already appeared in the doorway. Tony managed only an apologetic smile toward the portrait before approaching his unexpected visitor.
"Tony! There you are!" Obadiah boomed with theatrical enthusiasm, spreading his arms wide. "You missed last night's charity gala—I was genuinely concerned something had happened!" After their brief embrace, Tony replied smoothly, "Yesterday presented some unavoidable complications. You understand—if Stark Industries is abandoning weapons manufacturing, I must identify our new trajectory."
Obadiah's expression shifted almost imperceptibly before his smile returned. "So you're truly proceeding with the shutdown?"
"Absolutely," Tony declared, turning his back to Obadiah while discretely repositioning Maria's portrait to safety. He picked up random components, affecting casual preoccupation. "Uncle Obadiah, the weapons division has been terminated, correct? My authority still carries weight within the company?"
Behind Tony's back, Obadiah's face cycled through a series of complex emotions before settling on forced joviality. "Naturally, though these transitions require... adjustment periods. I'm coordinating with the board of directors."
"I control over forty percent of Stark Industries shares," Tony stated with growing irritation. "I am the primary shareholder. I demand immediate cessation, not gradual transitions requiring 'adjustment periods.'"
Obadiah studied Tony's eyes for several tense moments before his smile broadened. "Of course, of course—exactly as you wish. You troublesome boy, always creating complications for me. I'll handle everything immediately. Focus on discovering Stark Industries' future direction—leave the board politics to me."
He clapped Tony's shoulder with paternal affection before departing the laboratory.
"Sir, Mr. Stane has left the premises," FRIDAY announced. Tony immediately spun back to his workbench, bringing Maria's portrait close while extracting his wand from its improvised hiding place. He wiped it frantically with his shirt. "Look, Mom! My wand is perfectly fine!"
The maternal lecture that followed was both thorough and devastating. Having never experienced his mother's legendary temper, Tony finally understood why Howard had always maintained such respectful deference around Maria.
The following morning, Tony arrived at the All-Purpose Shop with Maria's portrait, practically glowing with pride as he showed her off to Gemini. His enthusiasm nearly provoked Gemini into summoning Professor Snape's portrait for a competitive display.
With Maria's gracious permission, Gemini commissioned a complementary landscape painting, establishing a magical connection between the two artworks. This allowed Maria to travel freely between locations—a welcome change after twenty-plus years confined to her tea room setting.
With the portrait's supervision available, Gemini decisively sent Tony home. Maria could oversee his magical self-study perfectly well, and if problems arose, the Floo Network provided immediate access to assistance. This arrangement suited Tony completely—ever since Afghanistan, a particular project had been consuming his thoughts, and magical studies had delayed it far too long.
After extensive discussion with Maria, they established a perfect schedule: magical education during daylight hours, then after the All-Purpose Shop closed each evening, Ethan would travel via fireplace to collaborate on Tony's scientific endeavors. Neither pursuit would compromise the other.
Time accelerated remarkably. Within a single week, Tony's spellwork had reached fourth-year Hogwarts standards, while his Transfiguration skills approached third-year proficiency. Only Potions remained stubbornly at first-year Boil-Cure level—not due to inability, but because examining the grotesque ingredients had convinced Tony to abandon the subject entirely. He'd sworn never to consume magical potions unless facing imminent death.
"Systems ready?" Tony stood confidently on the circular platform dominating his laboratory's center, flashing Ethan an enthusiastic thumbs-up. "Let's make history!"
Ethan scrutinized the cascading data streams across multiple monitors, his finger hovering over the central activation control. With careful precision, he engaged the sequence. Mechanical arms emerged from concealed housings, moving with balletic coordination as they assembled gleaming armor components around Tony's frame. Each piece locked into position with satisfying precision—joints sealed automatically, power systems synchronized, and finally the chest-mounted arc reactor blazed to brilliant life. The faceplate descended with a soft hiss, and twin eye-slits ignited with technological fire.
"Audio check, Tony—how are you feeling?" Ethan spoke into his communication array, tension evident in every syllable.
"All systems nominal," Tony's voice emerged from the suit's speakers, slightly distorted but unmistakably excited. "Vitals are perfect—heartrate, temperature, everything's green. Let me test basic mobility."
Tony lifted one armored foot and stepped forward with confident determination.
The resulting crash shook the entire laboratory as both man and machine collapsed in a spectacular tangle of metal and embarrassment directly at Ethan's feet.
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