Chapter Text
Peter really never thought this day would come.
King's Cross Station is extremely crowded this early in the morning, quite packed with Muggles. His trunk is loaded on a cart, his new Burmese kitten curled up and snoozing on top. Books are stacked one on top of the other; his wand, an eleven-and-a-half inch Cherrywood with unicorn tail hair, sits on the top book. Several sets of Hogwarts robes are stuffed somewhere on the pile, along with lots of Bertie Botts and pumpkin pasties.
"This way, Peter!" exclaims his dad, Tony. And, oh, Peter swore he told him not to wear his Slytherin scarf from twenty years ago. But there he is, in the middle of the busiest train station in London, his green and white (more like brown at this point) scarf sticking out like a sore thumb among the neutral blacks and grays of business suits.
Peter rolls his eyes, looking up to his other father, Stephen. "Tell me again why I couldn't just Floo in with you and Dad? Isn't that the point of having professors for parents?"
Stephen laughs, a low yet cheerful sound. “You need to have the Hogwarts Express experience at least once,” he says. “And who knows? Next year you might be begging us to take the train.”
“I doubt that.” Peter looks around at the people around him. Are all the Muggles confused by the kids pushing owls on trolleys or the women donning witches hats? Muggles will see what they want to see, so there’s no way they see that pink Pygmy Puff on that girl’s shoulder, or the picture frame with a photo of a waving family. Peter wonders how many of these kids will be in his year, how many will be in his House.
Speaking of that…
“Here it is, Pete!” Tony says, motioning with his arm to a brick wall between Platform 9 and Platform 10. Peter glances up just in time to see a teenage girl run into the wall with her parents. Looks easy enough…
Stephen leans down close to Peter’s ear. “Shall we do it together?” he asks with a smile.
“Obviously,” Tony says matter-of-factly, planting a quick kiss to Stephen’s cheek. They each place a hand on Peter’s trolley, prompting a smile from the young boy. “On three? One…”
“Two…”
“Three!” Peter takes off running, almost leaving his dads behind. The wall gets closer and closer, then there’s darkness for a just a second. Suddenly, Peter is greeted by a bright light, lots of chitter-chatter, a train’s whistle, the smell of sweets. His dads pull him out of the way of oncoming traffic, finding a nice little empty spot by a brown brick column. Peter’s eyes follow the trail of smoke to find a colossal black train with red finish, the golden words Hogwarts Express glinting in the morning sunlight.
Tony circles around to sit on Peter’s trunk, picking up his cat, May, and setting her on his lap. “In case you didn’t guess, kid, that’s the Hogwarts Express. A few ground rules,” he starts, giving May some head scratches, “One, don’t sit near the back of the train because that’s where all the older kids make out. Two, don’t sit near the front of the train if you don’t want to be labeled a geek. Three, make sure to—”
“Tony, stop it,” Stephen sighs. “He’s eleven. He can do what he wants.”
“Yeah, Dad,” says Peter, straightening up. “I can do what I want.”
Stephen grins down at his son, giving his hair a quick ruffle. “Do you have any last-minute questions before you board, son?”
Should he say the thoughts that plagued him in the days leading up to this moment? The thoughts that have invaded his mind since he began discovering who he is? No. Not now. He doesn’t even know what will happen that night. So, he goes with, “No, Papa. I think I’m good.” Peter shrugs and adds, “And either way, even if I’m not, it’s not like I can’t just go to one of your offices and ask.”
“Ah, great point.” Tony stands, placing May inside her small crate. (He had to reassure Peter several times that, yes, she will be waiting in his dormitory with the rest of his things following the Sorting.) “Now remember, tonight is the most important night of your educational career. Tonight, you get Sorted. You get to pick your House.”
“Tony, you know that’s not how it works,” Stephen laughs.
“Right! You get to tell an ancient hat which House you want, and it considers that choice before it Sorts you. And which House will you be saying you want?” Tony puts an exaggerated smile on his face and points to his green and white scarf.
Peter shrugs. “Slytherin. It’s my family’s house.”
“That’s right,” says Tony. “It was your Papa’s house, and it was your Dad’s house. Not only that, but your Papa is Head of Slytherin House, after all.”
Stephen smiles and adds, “You know you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. But, it would be super cool if you got Slytherin.”
The train whistles again, its shrill squeak piercing the air. “That’s ten minutes.” Tony grabs the handle of the trolley. “Time to load your things.”
With the help of his dads, Peter loads his luggage into the train’s lower compartments. Stephen explains that he doesn’t need to worry about picking it up because it’ll be waiting for him in his dormitory, wherever that may be. (“Hopefully the Dungeons,” Stephen adds with a grin.) When everything is loaded in, Peter’s dads take him aside.
“Do we really need to say goodbye when we’ll see you tonight at the Start-of-Term Feast?” Tony asks.
“Of course.” Stephen crouches and engulfs his son in a massive hug. He feels Tony join in and smiles. “You’re going to have so much fun, Peter.”
“I promise not to go too hard on you in Flying Class,” Tony adds. He lets go and Stephen steps away, giving Peter’s shoulders a squeeze. “Let us know if you ever need anything.”
Peter nods. “I will.” Peter steps toward the train, taking the first step up before turning back to his parents.
Stephen has his arm around Tony’s shoulders, Tony absentmindedly stroking Stephen’s fingers; they give him a subtle wave. “We love you, Peter!” Tony shouts. Peter looks back up and ascends the steps.
“Watch out, kid!” Peter steps back as someone whizzes by him, clearly chasing something. “Josh, grab his tail!”
The train is much more different than Peter expected. It looks a lot smaller on the inside, but the reds and blues of the walls and décor makes it very comfortable. Each train compartment has a narrow hall and a small room with doors and curtains for privacy. As he walks, he notices that most of the rooms are already full of students. Some are dozing off; others are full on snogging. (Turns out his dad was right.) He steps around an elderly lady pushing a trolley full of a variety of sweets, everything from licorice wands to chocolate frogs and pumpkin juice. After narrowly avoiding an older girl making a sprint for the loo, he finally finds a compartment with an empty seat.
There are two kids inside who look to be around his age. One of them is a large boy with black hair and dark eyes. The other is a girl with bronze skin and brown hair falling around her head in waves. Peter knocks on the outer wall of the room and says, “Is this seat taken?”
“Yes,” says the girl, her face void of emotion. After a beat, she smiles. “Nah, I’m just kidding, come on in.” Peter steps inside, thanking her and tossing his robes and snacks in the overhead bin before sitting beside her. “I’m Michelle, but everyone calls me MJ.”
“I’m Ned,” says the boy.
“Peter Stark-Strange. Nice to meet you.”
MJ’s eyes light up. “Wait, Stark-Strange? Like Professor Stark and Professor Strange?”
Peter nods. “I’m their son. Only child, I might add.”
“So, you’re a pureblood?” asks MJ.
“Well, obviously I’m adopted. But according to them, my biological parents were both purebloods.” Peter feels himself smile. “I was adopted.”
MJ reaches into her bag, grabbing a bottle of water. “I’m a half-blood, myself. My parents are both magical, but my dad had Muggle parents.”
Ned shrugs. “Guess that makes me the only Muggleborn. You should’ve seen the looks on my parents’ faces when I got my letter.” He laughs to himself, eyes bright as he recalls the memory. “Classic.”
Peter stands and pulls three pumpkin pasties from his things. “Well, take it from MJ and me, you need to try the best treat in the world.”
The train lurches forward, pulling away from the station and on to the best wizarding school in the world. Peter is so caught up in talking to his new friends, he doesn’t even remember to wave goodbye to his parents. As he learns about them, about their families and their backgrounds, he knows this may be the beginning of the best seven years of his life.
Stephen stands on the platform with his husband, their fingers intertwined, waving to the train as it pulls out of the station and out of sight. Once it’s out of view, many of the parents around them Apparate away, while others begin pulling out Sickles and Knuts so they can use the public Floo network to Floo home with their young kids.
“We did it,” Tony says, giving Stephen’s hand a squeeze. “Proper send-off.”
“You can’t really call it a ‘send-off’ when we’ll be in the same castle as him,” Stephen mentions.
“We won’t be able to go home and see him every night, though,” Tony says with a hint of sorrow and longing.
Yeah, Stephen supposes that’ll be hard. They adopted Peter when they were 26. Stephen had been working at Hogwarts for two years at that point as the Charms professor. Tony was playing Quidditch professionally as a Chaser for the Chudley Cannons, having played for the Slytherin team for six years during his time at Hogwarts (yes, he lost against Harry Potter a few times, but look who went pro). Luckily, Tony could stay home during off season and days when he didn’t have practice; Stephen would Floo home from school every day. When Peter was about five years old, Tony was in the middle of an intense match with the Montrose Magpies when two other players collided with him, knocking him off his broom in the process. Thank Merlin, he only came away with a broken arm and a few fractured ribs. However, when he healed, his throwing arm was never the same again. He saw several Healers about his arm but discovered that nothing could be done, and the Cannons ultimately let him go. He stayed home as a full-time dad with Peter for a few years before Stephen heard from Professor Trelawney that Madam Hooch was retiring. He discussed the matter with Headmistress McGonagall, dropping Tony’s name in the pool of candidates, and two weeks later, Tony was hired as the new Flying professor and Quidditch referee. Their parents switched days caring for Peter during the day, until now.
It was always fun being able to Floo back home to find Peter waiting there with his grandparents, a wide-toothed grin on his face while he told them about the misadventures that he had with them, from shopping at Weasley’s Wizard Whizzes in Diagon Alley to flying around the countryside on his Junior Firebolt broomstick. Now, they’d Floo back in the evenings to an empty home since Peter will obviously be staying in his dormitory.
If, excuse him, when, Peter is Sorted into Slytherin, he’ll likely see Peter a bit more than Tony will. Heads of Houses are required to meet with Prefects bi-weekly to discuss any issues or concerns that may have come up. Stephen, though, usually goes one step further and tries to talk to a couple of students in each year to get a good idea of the happenings in the House. Perhaps he’ll get to hear all the latest Hogwarts gossip from his son.
“It’ll definitely take some getting used to,” Stephen says. “Now then, it’s time for us to get ready for the Start-of-Term Feast, and I am dying to see you in those dark red dress robes again.”
“Those?” Tony rolls his eyes as they navigate through the crowd, trying to find an empty space to Apparate. “But they’re so Gryffindor-y.” He says the House name as if it puts a bad taste in his mouth.
“But they make that arse of yours look fantastic,” Stephen responds, a bit of lust in his lowered voice. “Maybe you should slip them on for me again, just for looks.”
“Maybe I will.” They find a fairly empty spot on the platform and quickly Apparate home, the breeze from the English countryside welcoming them back. Their house is in a small, rural Wizarding village about 30 miles west of London. “But only if you help me change into them.”
Stephen laughs, giving Tony’s bum an affectionate pinch. “No need to tell me twice.” They take off running toward the house, giggling like teenagers as they go.
And if they take a little longer than normal to get ready for the Start-of-Term Feast, who will really notice?
Lots of kisses (and maybe more than kisses) and several hours later, Stephen and Tony are ready to head back to Hogwarts. They chose to dress simple. Stephen is donning a dark gray set of robes with dark green trim. Tony decided on a similar robe set, except his are black.
“Make sure it’s straight,” Tony says as Stephen clips a small Slytherin pin over his heart. "I want all of Hogwarts to know that the Stark-Strange’s are a Slytherin family.” Stephen finishes his work with another quick kiss as Tony quickly clips an identical pin to his husband’s robes.
The Hogwarts Express likely has at least another hour before it arrives at Hogsmeade Station. As per usual, Stephen and Tony have been asked to assist the other professors in escorting older students to the Great Hall. It’s usually about a fifteen-minute wait after the other students are seated that the first years arrive.
“We’ll have to tell Peter all about the secrets of the Slytherin common room sometime after classes start,” Stephen says. He quickly checks around the house to make sure all the lights are off (except for the lamp in the living room that is always kept on) while Tony lets Fury, their three-year-old Goldendoodle, into the house and locks all the doors.
“I think that’s everything.” Following one final onceover, they head to the Floo fireplace. “Your office or mine?” Tony asks.
Stephen takes a handful of green Floo powder and tosses it into the flames, causing them to turn a bright shade of green and rendering them completely harmless. “Mine because it’s bigger.” He grabs another handful and steps into the flames, feeling a bit of a faint tickle as they flicker around him. “I’ll see you there, hubby.” He winks, earning a grin from Tony in return. “Stephen Strange’s office, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!” Stephen throws down the powder as hard as he can; the flames shoot up higher, and his home vanishes. He makes sure to stay still as green light engulfs him before he is spit out of the fireplace in his office, landing hard on his bum. He stands quickly, knowing Tony is right behind him. On cue, ten seconds later, his husband appears. Stephen helps him to his feet and, after one last check for soot or ash on their clothes, they head off toward the Great Hall.
On the way, they hear a loud, booming voice coming from near the staircase leading down to the Hufflepuff common room. The turn the corner, the smells of the night’s meal filling the air, and see a broad, red-headed man having a conversation with who looks to be Professor Longbottom.
“Hey Quill!” Tony shouts. “Up to no good already?”
The two men turn, Neville rolling his eyes and Quill grinning. “Hey, good to see you!” He shakes his head. “I wasn’t doing anything that I haven’t done before.”
“Okay, for one thing, switching the heads of the suits of armor is one of the oldest pranks in the book,” Neville says. “Two, you’re a professor! You shouldn’t be the one pulling stunts like this.”
“Neville, have you met Quill?” Stephen asks. “You should be lucky you got here before he switched the—”
“Whoa, okay, spare us the details, Strange!” Quill laughs, holding his hands up in mock innocence. Neville just rolls his eyes and walks off, muttering something about responsibility and reprimands.
Once he’s out of earshot, the three of them burst out laughing. This is typical Quill behavior; causing mischief and having fun have always been two of his specialties. While most classes at Hogwarts are very serious, Quill took his role as Muggle Studies professor very lightly; laughter can usually be heard emitting from his classroom on most given days. It also helps that Quill was a Muggleborn, and he and his wife (also a Muggleborn) still use a lot of Muggle technology. However, he does still complain about Hogwarts’ lack of electricity and how it limits his teaching abilities. (“How am I supposed to teach these kids about Twitter and Vine? I can’t just skip over those Muggle trends!”)
“It’s good to see you, Quill,” Stephen says, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “How was your summer?”
“It was great! Went by too quickly, if you ask me.” They start walking toward the Great Hall. Stephen and Tony lock hands as they tell Quill about their summer holiday, about shopping in Diagon Alley for Peter’s school supplies, about how they took him to the Quidditch World Cup in France. “Are you excited about your boy starting school here?”
Tony nods, maybe a little too enthusiastically. “He’s been talking about it for years. We all know he’s going to take after his dads and go Slytherin.” With a laugh, Tony adds, “It’ll be fun to compare his Slytherin experience to ours.”
“But, what if he ends up in Hufflepuff?” Quill asks, pointing to the Hufflepuff pin on his navy robes. “Then we'll be the ones with secrets,” he says with a smirk.
“Don’t even joke,” Stephen says as they arrive at the Great Hall, where Headmistress McGonagall is waiting for the professors to give them their assignments. “This is a Slytherin family, Peter knows that.”
They continue to chatter quietly, waiting for the rest of the professors to arrive. Bruce Banner, Hogwarts’ Arithmancy professor, is locked in a deep conversation with the Transfiguration professor, Steve Rogers. Sybill Trelawney is chatting off the ears of Wanda Maximoff, the Potions professor, and Natasha Romanov, the newest Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
Stephen briefly remembers a conversation he had with Tony where they pondered how long the new DADA professor would stay in the position. It had come out after the Battle of Hogwarts so many years ago that Voldemort has cursed the position; no professor would stay longer than a school year before they either quit, died, or went mad. It’s odd that even now that curse is long-broken, it still gives people the creeps. In recent times, DADA professors would leave the position after just a few years.
The last couple of professors straggle into the room. McGonagall raises her hands, catching the attention of the Hogwarts staff and sending a wave of silence through the room.
“Good evening, professors. I am glad you all made it back safe and sound.” She smiles, a rare action for the strict headmistress. “As you all are aware, the Start-of-Term Feast will be held tonight. We have 64 new students who are eager to join in our ranks and become the next generation of young witches and wizards. I trust that, as always, none of you will be biased toward which students are Sorted into which House.” Her eyes linger for a few moments on the two of them; Stephen glances at Tony, who gives his hand an affectionate squeeze. “Head of Houses, following the ceremony, I would like for you all to address the new students in their respective common rooms in regard to your services to them. Let them know if you have any additional rules about common rooms or the like.” She presses her hands together in front of her chest, another smile crossing her lips. “This will be another excellent year, professors!”
Once her speech is done, McGonagall begins directing professors to different spots around the area for monitoring purposes. (“We can’t have the older students sneaking off to do who knows what, after all.”) Stephen and the other Heads of Houses are asked to greet and direct students to their House table. Every other day of the year, save for a few other feasts, it is perfectly okay to mingle amongst other House tables; during feasts, it is prohibited. Tony is asked to be one of the two greeters at the main entrance into the castle, which does not surprise Stephen one bit. He’s always had that kind of personality.
Stephen takes his place at the end of the Slytherin table closest to the door. He glances over at the other Heads of Houses: Neville Longbottom for Gryffindor, Bruce Banner for Ravenclaw, and Peter Quill for Hufflepuff. They all make brief chatter from across the room until the older students begin to file into the room. As far as Stephen knows, all of his students like him, so greetings are done in the form of high fives, fist bumps, and lots of smiles. Luckily, there’s only one Gryffindor girl who tries to sit with her Slytherin boyfriend, so his policing duties are very easy. Quill, he notices as he escorts the girl to Neville, is scolding an entire group of Hufflepuff students for trying to sit at the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables.
The last few straggling students walk inside, Tony and the other greeter right behind. Once all the students are seated, Stephen, Tony, and the other professors take their places at the faculty table. Of course, the two of them sit together, locking fingers under the table. Professor McGonagall stands and addresses the students, lecturing them about proper behavior during a Sorting Ceremony.
“She really has a thing about behavior this year, doesn’t she?” Tony whispers.
“Can you blame her? Remember last year when a student shot off a firework after their sibling was Sorted? Or when those horny teens started full-on snogging during the Christmas Festival?”
Tony huffs. “Kids are such rebels these days.”
“And now, the moment we’ve all been anticipating, please join me in welcoming our newest students!”
At that moment, the doors are thrown open, and in walks Hagrid, a huge smile on his face. He steps to the side and makes his way to the front while the students behind him quickly file in. As with most first-year students, they all look slightly terrified, staring in awe at the floating candles in the ceiling, glancing nervously at the older kids sitting at the tables around them. They finally reach the front of the Great Hall, gawking at the Sorting Hat sitting on the stool in front of them.
McGonagall welcomes the students, explaining the process of the Sorting Ceremony to them and pointing out where each of the Houses’ corresponding tables in the room are.
“Oh look, there he is!” Stephen whispers excitedly. Peter stands in the middle of the group, looking handsome in his Hogwarts robes.
“Already making friends, too,” Tony mutters. They watch as Peter says something under his breath to another boy and girl, who try hard not to giggle too loudly. “And causing trouble already, of course.”
The Sorting Hat sings its song, the entire room silent as to respect the ancient hat. As it finishes, Wanda steps toward it, a long piece of parchment in her hand. “Students, I will now begin calling you up here one by one. The Sorting Hat will be placed on your head, and you will be Sorted. Afterward, please make your way to your House table.” Clearing her throat, she picks up the hat and says, “Adams, Charles!” A dark-skinned boy walks up to the stool, taking a seat. Wanda barely has to place the hat on his head before it shouts, “Gryffindor!” The Gryffindor table erupts in cheers as Charles makes his way over there.
“Damn,” utters Stephen. “It always feels good when Slytherin gets the first student of the ceremony." One by one, the students approach the hat and are Sorted. Though professors are not supposed to be biased, Stephen can’t help but clap a little louder when a Slytherin is Sorted (also, none of them look like troublemakers, unlike a couple of Gryffindors he saw). While watching the ceremony, he also has his eyes on Peter. He notices him flash the girl a “thumbs up” when she is Sorted into Ravenclaw; the same thing happens when the boy receives the same House.
“Stacy, Gwen!”
A girl with white-blonde hair walks up to the stool, and Stephen can barely hear her get Sorted into Hufflepuff because Tony grips his hand suddenly. That must mean it’s time for—
“Stark-Strange, Peter!”
Now it’s Stephen’s turn to squeeze Tony’s hand with a death grip.
Peter walks to the stool, giving Stephen and Tony a small grin and a wink. Stephen feels the anticipation in the room rise; not only do the other professors know that the two of them were Slytherins in their youth, but so do all of the current Slytherin students. Everyone knows it’s only right that the kid follows in his parents’ footsteps.
Wanda places the hat on Peter’s head. Stephen can hear Tony muttering, “Please be Slytherin, please be Slytherin,” over and over again.
“Ah!” the hat shouts, causing Peter to jump. “Clearly your family has a history here at Hogwarts!” It pauses for a second. “Oh, interesting! Very peculiar.” Another pause. “Ah, of course! I know just where to place you!”
Another pause. Stephen can feel his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He thinks he’ll have to have Madam Pomfrey check his hand for broken bones because Tony is squeezing it so hard.
“Ravenclaw!”
Stephen begins to cheer as loudly as he can when—
Wait. Did it say… Ravenclaw?
Stephen freezes, his jaw drops. The Ravenclaw table erupts in applause, so loud and thunderous it feels like the room is shaking. Or maybe that’s just Tony’s shaking hands. Whispers echo around the tables, both faculty and student.
Ravenclaw?
“No way,” Tony finally says. “There has to be a mistake.”
Stephen shakes his head. “The Sorting Hat doesn’t make mistakes.”
He glances to his left. Several of the professors look completely shocked. Even Bruce, the fucking Head of Ravenclaw House, looks absolutely shocked. He doesn’t even hear Wanda call the next name. The Hat just Sorted their son, their Peter, their little boy, into fucking Ravenclaw.
Stephen knows he should be excited for him. He knows it. Peter was Sorted into a House with his two new friends. He found his home.
But, it’s not his home. It’s not the home that Stephen grew up in, the home that Stephen loves.
As the next students is placed in Gryffindor, Stephen glances over at the Ravenclaw table, at his son. Peter is staring right at them, his brown eyes filled with confusion and a hint of sorrow.
And that’s when it hits Stephen. He’s a horrible parent. His son was just Sorted. Most parents only dream of having the opportunity to see their child Sorted. He had that chance. But, he was so dead-set on Peter being a Slytherin, he couldn’t even cheer for him when he didn’t get his way.
Shit.
Stephen steps into his office, closing the door behind him and flicking the lock. Speaking to the new students in the Slytherin common room was a complete blur to him. He kept thinking about Peter, about the sad look in his eyes as he stared at his parents. How could he have been so conceited, so caught up in his own dreams for his son that he was blinded by them?
Tony sits in Stephen’s chair, his feet propped up and crossed on the desk. “I’m going to have a word with McGonagall tomorrow,” Tony says. “There has to be a mistake.”
The blood in Stephen’s veins boils. “I cannot believe that’s what you’re most concerned about right now.”
Tony’s brows crease. “What do you—”
“Did you not see the way h-he looked at us?” Stephen scoffs, pacing across the room. “Anthony, we were so concerned about him being a Slytherin that we couldn’t even be happy when he was Sorted!” Stephen runs his hands through his hair, leaning against the closest wall and shutting his eyes. “What kind of parent isn’t happy for their own child?” he whispers, sliding down the stone until his bum hits the floor. “How could we be so selfish?”
Silence fills the space between them. Neither of them speaks for a few minutes. It is so quiet, one could hear a quill drop. Stephen hasn’t moved, but he wishes he could read Tony’s mind, so he could know what his husband is thinking. He hears movement across the room, coming toward him; he can feel the heat radiating from Tony’s skin as he sits on the floor beside him.
“Stephen, darling, there’s no such thing as a perfect parent,” Tony says. “Every other parent I know has made mistakes with their kids. We’re not any different. And, if I am being one hundred percent honest, this is not the worst thing we’ve ever done. Remember that time we went to that Muggle zoo with Quill and his family, and Peter wandered away from us? Or that time when we were teaching Peter to fly on his Junior Firebolt broomstick and we looked away for one second and he fell off his broom and broke his wrist? Or even when he was a baby and we put peanut butter on his vegetables so he would eat them, and we discovered he was very allergic?”
Tony places a hand on Stephen’s leg. “We aren’t perfect, Stephen, and we both know it. Hell, even Peter might know it. All we can do is talk to him about it and apologize. If he’s mad, he can talk to us about that, as well. If he’s mad, he won’t stay that way forever.”
Stephen knows Tony is right. Eventually, he lifts his head, resting it on Tony’s shoulder. “I just feel so guilty,” he says.
“Well, thanks to you, the feeling is now mutual, sweetheart,” Tony responds. Stephen smirks, turn his head to kiss Tony on the cheek.
“You’re right. We just need to talk to him.” Stephen pulls out his wand. “Classes don’t start until Monday, so that gives us one day to do that.” He points his wand out and exclaims, “Expecto Patronum!” A small, white Labrador emerges from the tip of the wand, looking to him for instruction. “Hi Peter, it’s Papa. Meet your dad and me by my office at one o’clock tomorrow. We need to…apologize.” With a flick of his wand, the Lab pounces off.
They sit there for a moment, the last wisps of the Patronus fading into the air. Finally, Tony stands, helping Stephen to his feet. As Tony walks over to the fireplace to open a Floo portal back home, he can’t help but pray that their conversation with Peter tomorrow goes well.
Peter knocks on the door at five minutes ‘til one. Stephen smiles at that; he and Tony practically hammered it into Peter’s head that it was always better to arrive early to places rather than on time. Tony, who was sitting in a chair closer to the door, stands and opens it.
It’s not a school day, so Peter isn’t wearing his robes yet; instead he’s donning a pair of jeans and a gray T-shirt. Stephen knows it’ll be weird to see him in Charms wearing a blue tie instead of the green one he’d always envisioned his son wearing, but that doesn’t matter at the moment.
“What’s going on?” Peter asks, taking a seat in one of the two green chairs in front of Stephen’s desk. Tony sits in the other one and looks to Stephen; they’d discussed it last night and determined that Stephen should talk first.
“Um, Peter,” Stephen starts, “your father and I would like to apologize for our behavior last night at the Sorting Ceremony. It was very inappropriate.”
Peter suddenly becomes very interested in staring at his feet, and Stephen’s heart breaks a little at that. “You mean how you looked at me like I had cast an Unforgivable Curse? Yeah, I saw that.”
Stephen’s lips purse, and he looks to Tony, silently pleading for help. Tony nods and places a hand on the back of Peter’s chair. “Son, we know what it looked like. Okay? We know that. And we apologize sincerely for it.” He leans over, putting his thumb under Peter’s chin and tilting his head toward Tony. “What you have to understand is that when parents have a child, they envision their child’s future from start to finish. They daydream about every little detail. What will their child look like? What will their future career be? Who will they marry, and how many kids will they have?” He gestures to Stephen, then himself. “Your papa and I did the same thing. I’ll admit, it was a little shocking to me when you weren’t placed in Slytherin, but the only reason for that is because I pictured you being a Slytherin since the day we adopted you.”
“And Peter,” Stephen interrupts, smiling slightly when his son turns to look him in the eye, “we are so happy for you and so proud of you. And if I have to spend the entire seven years that you’re at Hogwarts wearing a Ravenclaw jumper under my robes to prove it to you, then I’ll do just that.”
After a moment, Peter laughs. “You don’t have to do that, Papa.”
Stephen smiles again, both because his son looks joyful again and because he won’t have to wear that disgusting blue every day.
“It did shock me a little that you two weren’t cheering,” Peter says, “but I know that you were just surprised. You’ve hyped up Slytherin my entire life, and one of the first thoughts I had after I was Sorted was, ‘Oh no, what will my dads think?’ I’m not mad. I was just a little confused. But either way, I forgive you.”
There’s another brief moment of silence, Tony and Stephen smiling at each other and silently knowing that they did the right thing. Tony breaks the silence by saying, “Okay Peter, humor me because I’m curious. Did you say anything to the Sorting Hat?”
Peter shakes his head. “I just thought, ‘Put me in the House where I can do the most good.’” And, wow, that’s a mature thought for a kid his age to have.
Stephen stands from his desk and walks around to Peter’s chair, crouching beside him and taking his hand. “You’re going to be the best Ravenclaw that Hogwarts has ever seen. I just know it.”
After a quick cup of afternoon tea with his dads (they brought his favorite chocolate biscuits, so he had to stay), Peter says goodbye and heads back to the Ravenclaw Tower. He’ll see Stephen again for Charms with Gryffindor on Monday and Wednesday, and he has Flying with Tony and the Hufflepuffs on Friday. It’s not a real goodbye, but Peter knows that once his homework starts piling up, he probably won’t see his dads as often. They’ll probably ask him to come by one of their offices at least once a week to let them know he’s not drowning in schoolwork; Peter enjoys his dads’ company though, so that definitely won’t be an issue.
He’s just passing the entrance to the dungeons when he hears someone from down there call his name. He turns toward the voice in time to see a boy with bronze skin and dark hair and eyes emerge from the staircase, a mischievous grin on his face. “The name’s Flash Thompson. Second year.”
“Peter Stark-Strange. First year.”
“Yeah, yeah, I obviously know who you are. You’re the Slytherin legacy everyone was talking about.” Flash crosses his arms, giving Peter a onceover. “Well, not much of a legacy, are you, considering you’ll be wearing blue tomorrow.” He laughs. “How do your Slytherin dads feel about that?”
Peter glances around in confusion, his brows furrowing. “Um, do you have a problem with me? If not, I’d really like to get back to—”
“Oh no, I don’t really have any issues with you, right now,” he scoffs. He starts walking closer to Peter, who finds himself subconsciously backing up in response. “Just stay away from anyone in Slytherin House, and you won’t have to worry about me.” Before Peter has a chance to ask why, Flash turns on his heel and walks off.
What the heck was that about?
Peter waits until he sees Flash round the corner before he continues to walk back to Ravenclaw Tower. What Flash said definitely sounded like an empty threat to him, so he decides not to worry about it. He doesn’t know anyone in Slytherin House yet, but what Flash said won’t stop him from making friends if the opportunity presents itself.
He quickly answers the riddle from the eagle door knocker and treks inside. The common room is packed full of students, all in varying forms of lounging positions. He’s not surprised to find that most of his fellow Ravenclaws are getting a head start on reading for their classes. Some older students are practicing spells in one corner of the room, while he spots a couple of others painting on some spare easels in the other corner. He spots MJ and Ned at one of the tables by the wall, locked in an intense game of wizard’s chess. He pulls up a chair and sits just in time to see one of MJ’s red knights take out its sword and cut one of Ned’s white bishops in half.
“Wow,” Ned says as he picks up the broken pieces. “This is the coolest game I’ve ever played.”
“You’ve obviously never played Gobstones,” Peter grins.
“Ew, you’d rather have a marble spray that disgusting liquid on you than watch inanimate objects beat each other up?” MJ supplies. “Also” —she turns to Ned— “check.”
Peter turns to her. “It’s all part of the experience! Though that vinegar smell always sticks in your clothes for days.” He scrunches up his nose as he thinks about the last time he played Gobstones. His favorite Chudley Cannons shirt had to be washed about five times before the smell wasn’t noticeable.
Ned makes his next move, but even Peter knows it’s in vain; MJ definitely has this game in the bag.
“I’ve heard that Exploding Snap is the best,” MJ says.
“Did someone say Exploding Snap?” a new voice pipes in. They all turn to see an older student, probably a fifth or sixth year, his eyes gleaming. “Exploding Snap is my favorite game, and”—he holds up a deck of blue cards—“I always carry a game with me. Fancy a round or two?”
“Absolutely,” Peter says.
He quickly puts his chair away, hearing MJ call “checkmate” behind them, and takes a spot on the couch beside the older student. As they all sit around the table, a few other students join them. While they sit there, learning more about each other, laughing when someone screams as a card explodes in their hand, Peter knows that this is his home. His dads work here. His friends and housemates are all bloody brilliant. This is where he belongs. And he cannot wait for his Hogwarts career to get started.