Chapter 41 – Grandma Lola, Garlic Rice, and Selective Omission
Ned Leeds had spent the entire car ride home vibrating.
Not metaphorically.
Not poetically.
Actually vibrating.
Happy Hogan kept one hand on the wheel, the other loosely braced near the gearshift, and stared at the road with the long-suffering expression of a man who had driven Avengers, teenagers, and once, briefly, an actual Norse god, and still considered this among the more exhausting assignments.
Ned sat in the back seat with his bag in his lap and the kind of barely-contained energy usually associated with unstable particles or caffeinated squirrels.
Happy glanced at him in the mirror.
"You good back there?"
Ned looked up so fast he practically snapped into a new frame.
"Yes. No. I mean, yes, physically, but emotionally I'm having a lot of thoughts."
"That sounds exhausting."
"It is," Ned admitted. "But also amazing."
Happy grunted.
That tracked.
Because in the span of one week, Ned Leeds had:
helped survive Stark Tower chaos
watched Harley Kenner blow a wall apart
been shoved into Stephen Strange's weekend
attended Midtown with a princess
corrected an astral being
discovered he was apparently very good at magic
and spent most of Saturday getting insulted by beginner runes under the supervision of a master who could probably kill with eye contact alone
Which, to Ned, had been the best week of his life.
Happy pulled up outside the Leeds house just as the sky turned golden at the edges.
The house glowed warmly from the inside. The scent of food was already drifting through the cracked kitchen window.
Ned unbuckled with reverence.
"Okay," he said, mostly to himself. "I have to tell this story in the right order."
Happy leaned back slightly.
"Maybe leave out anything that sounds illegal."
Ned paused halfway out the door.
"…How illegal?"
Happy gave him a look.
"Ned."
"Right. Okay. Family-safe version."
He scrambled out of the car, slung his bag over his shoulder, and waved.
"Thanks, Happy!"
"Be back on time tomorrow."
"I will!"
Happy watched him bound up the steps with a smile he'd deny under oath.
Then he drove off before the kid could remember one more thing and come sprinting back with it.
The front door opened before Ned could knock.
His mother stood there in an apron, one hand on the handle, already smiling in that knowing way mothers had when they could hear their child's excitement from across dimensions.
"Ned."
"Hi, Ma!"
She barely had time to brace before he hugged her.
"Okay," she laughed, wrapping her arms around him. "That's either a very good week or a very bad one."
"It was a very good one."
From deeper in the house came a warm, familiar voice.
"Did my apo arrive yet, or is that just the sound of him trying to explode through the front door?"
Ned pulled back immediately, lighting up.
"Grandma Lola!"
He dropped his bag by the stairs and bolted toward the kitchen.
The kitchen was alive in the way only kitchens built around family ever were.
Steam curled from pots on the stove.
Garlic and onion sizzled in oil.
There was rice, something rich and savory bubbling on low heat, a plate of lumpia already cooling, and Grandma Lola standing at the counter like a general commanding a delicious army.
She opened her arms just in time for Ned to crash into her.
"There's my boy," she said, kissing the top of his head. "You look too happy. What happened?"
Ned pulled back, eyes huge.
"So many things."
Grandma Lola narrowed her eyes fondly.
"Wash your hands first. Then tell me your many things."
That was fair.
Ned washed up at record speed and was seated at the kitchen table less than two minutes later, bouncing one knee under it while his mother served food and Grandma Lola sat across from him with the calm, prepared patience of someone about to receive a full verbal avalanche.
His mother set down his plate.
"Alright," she said. "Start talking."
Ned did.
Immediately.
All at once.
"There's a new student at school, but he's not really new because Mr. Stark already knew him and his name is Harley Kenner and he's from Tennessee and he's exactly like if bad ideas learned engineering and also Princess Shuri is at Midtown now and she destroyed Flash Thompson psychologically in under thirty seconds and then after school Happy drove us to the Sanctum and the doors opened when I touched them and I swear I didn't do anything and then Dr. Strange caught us reading books we definitely were not supposed to read and he put Harley and Peter and Shuri in magic bubbles—"
His mother held up one hand.
"Ned."
He stopped.
Barely.
She blinked slowly.
"Eat," she said. "Then continue in human language."
Grandma Lola was already laughing.
"Leave the boy alone. He's been storing all this up in his cheeks like a chipmunk."
Ned stuffed a forkful of rice into his mouth and made an involuntary sound of happiness.
"Oh wow."
His mother gave him a soft smile.
"You thought magic and billionaires meant I'd stop feeding you?"
Ned swallowed, pointed at the food, and then at her.
"I respect you so much."
"I know."
Grandma Lola leaned forward, interested.
"Now. Start again. Slowly. Who is Harley?"
That, at least, was easier.
Ned launched into a more coherent version of events.
Harley's arrival.
The instant alliance between Harley, Peter, and Shuri.
The explosive lab incident, though he cleaned up the details enough to sound less like a criminal accessory and more like a witness to advanced stupidity.
Tony outsourcing discipline to Doctor Strange.
Stephen taking them all to school.
The first day at Midtown.
Meeting Shuri properly outside the chaos.
MJ instantly fitting in with Harley and Shuri like it had been inevitable.
Flash Thompson getting verbally turned into dust at lunch.
At this, Grandma Lola actually set down her fork.
"Who is Flash?"
"The worst," Ned and his mother said at the same time.
They looked at each other.
His mother sighed. "Ah. One of those."
"Yes," Ned said grimly. "One of those."
Grandma Lola nodded like she understood completely.
"Then he deserved it."
Ned grinned.
He told them about the Sanctum library.
This part he edited carefully.
Not a lie, exactly.
Just… strategic omission.
He did not mention certain restricted texts, magical near-disasters, or anything that might make his mother call Tony Stark directly and demand a child safety review for all interdimensional structures.
Instead he said, "There were a lot of books."
Which was true.
And, "Dr. Strange made us do homework."
Also true.
And then, because he could not physically hold it in any longer, he got to the best part.
"Then on Saturday we went to actual training."
Grandma Lola's eyes widened.
"Training?"
"Magic training," Ned clarified, already smiling too hard. "Like real beginner classes with sorcerers and everything."
His mother paused in the act of reaching for the water pitcher.
"…Magic."
Ned pointed at her with his fork.
"Yes. And before you say anything, I know how that sounds."
"How does that sound?" his mother asked.
"Insane," Ned said cheerfully. "But accurate."
Grandma Lola, unlike most people, absorbed this without much visible surprise.
She had lived too long and loved too many family members to be thrown by the sentence my son has weekend magic lessons with Doctor Strange.
She simply nodded once and asked, "And how did you do?"
Ned sat up straighter.
Very straight.
Trying and failing not to beam.
"…Really good."
His mother softened instantly.
"Oh, honey."
"No, I mean, like, actually good." He looked at both of them, almost shy now underneath the excitement. "Dr. Strange had us grow plants and do control work and structured casting and stuff, and Peter set his on fire a little, but I made flowers."
Grandma Lola smiled.
"Flowers?"
"Six," Ned said with quiet, impossible pride. "And then later this astral envoy asked me about a binding matrix and I knew the answer."
Both women went still.
His mother blinked.
"An astral what?"
Ned froze.
Tiny mistake.
Recover.
Grandma Lola watched him over steepled fingers, deeply amused.
Ned coughed.
"Like… a magical being. In a meeting. Dr. Strange had meetings."
His mother stared at him.
"He took you to meetings."
"Yes."
"With magical beings."
"Yes."
"And let you speak."
"Well," Ned said carefully, "to be fair I was not supposed to."
Grandma Lola laughed so hard she had to put down her spoon.
"That's my grandson."
His mother pressed a hand to her forehead.
"I don't know whether to be proud or terrified."
"Both," Ned said honestly.
That seemed right.
Because he still couldn't fully explain what it felt like.
To be in a room full of things bigger than himself.
Older than himself.
Stranger than anything he'd imagined.
And not feel small.
Scared, yes.
Overwhelmed, definitely.
But not small.
Needed.
Seen.
Useful.
Grandma Lola's eyes, always sharper than people expected, rested on him a little more carefully now.
"And Dr. Strange?" she asked. "How is he with all of you?"
Ned nearly laughed into his drink.
"Oh my God, Grandma, he is so stressed."
His mother gave him a look.
"Ned."
"No, I mean it respectfully," he said. "He's trying really hard to be all mysterious and stern and Sorcerer Supreme, but then Peter burns a seed and suddenly he starts saying stuff like you adjust and try again and then realizes he sounds like a parent and gets weird about it."
Grandma Lola looked delighted.
"Does he now?"
"Yes! And all the other sorcerers think Peter and Harley and I are his kids."
His mother almost choked.
"What?"
Ned, now fully committed, nodded furiously.
"They won't say it directly, but they all act like it's obviously true. One of them called me his offspring in a meeting. Harley almost died laughing."
Grandma Lola laughed again, louder this time.
"Oh, I like this place already."
His mother sat down slowly.
"So let me understand this. You spent the week at school with a princess, got supervised by a wizard, attended magic class, and accidentally got adopted by the mystical community."
Ned thought about it.
"…Yeah, that's about right."
His mother covered her face with one hand and laughed helplessly into it.
Grandma Lola reached over and patted Ned's wrist.
"Well," she said, warm and matter-of-fact, "it sounds like you had a very good week."
Ned looked down at his plate for a second.
Then back up.
"Yeah," he said softly. "I did."
The kitchen quieted a little after that.
Not silent.
Never silent.
Just softer.
The kind of warmth that settled after the best stories had been told and the people hearing them understood more than the words themselves.
His mother reached over and smoothed back a bit of his hair.
"You're happy."
Ned's face went pink.
"A little."
Grandma Lola snorted.
"A little? You are glowing."
He laughed.
Maybe he was.
Maybe because for all the chaos, all the weirdness, all the danger of books and runes and floating entities and sarcastic robot cats and Doctor Strange pretending not to care too much, something about the whole week had felt right.
Like the world had gotten bigger.
And instead of being lost in it, he'd found a place in it.
His mother stood and started gathering plates.
"Good," she said, kissing the top of his head as she passed. "You deserve happy."
Grandma Lola squeezed his shoulder.
"And next week," she said, "you tell me if this Doctor Strange fellow finally admits he likes having you all around."
Ned laughed into his drink.
"That may take a while."
Grandma Lola gave him a knowing look.
"No," she said. "I don't think it will."
And somewhere across the city, in a tower full of secrets the children didn't know and a Sanctum full of magical problems they absolutely did, the adults were carrying burdens too heavy for kids.
But here, in a warm kitchen over dinner and garlic rice and Grandma Lola's certainty, Ned got to be what he still was beneath all the genius and wonder and impossible things.
A kid with a full heart.
A story to tell.
And a family waiting to hear it.