For the first time in his eleven years, Harry James Potter got to open proper presents at Christmas, all because Ron Weasley wrote home and told his own parents that Harry wasn’t expecting anything. What the Weasleys lacked in galleons, they more than made up for in heart.
can you imagine though, jarvis all alone in tony’s malibu house? jarvis who of course doesn’t have any physical form at all, jarvis who at this point occupies just the house and tony’s phone—jarvis, who is dependent on tony for everything, who lives essentially in tony’s pocket, suddenly being completely alone for the first time in his silicon life.
and every ten minutes on the dot for days and days and days he accesses the latest news reports, re-calculating and re-calculating tony’s chances at survival, endlessly running the numbers. and nobody told him to do that. tony’s house was empty and dark and nobody told jarvis to keep an eye on the news but he did. jarvis could have just spun down his hard drives and gone into hibernate mode, but he didn’t.
no, he watched the news. he stood vigil. he waited and he hoped that his calculations were wrong. that one day he would be able to say welcome home, sir once more.