NOTE: Second chapter today because I'm planning to focus tomorrow on finishing the last couple of chapters. Wish me luck and a Muse in a good mood!
After confirming that his phone and, by extension, JARVIS, were still functional, Tony gave himself over to the tour. The Quidditch pitch was impressive, but not more so than Harry flying.
His son sat his broom confidently, soaring and banking, and Tony paid far more attention to that than McGonagall's explanation of the rules.
"It seems very lopsided," Steve observed, "that one move is worth so many points."
"It doesn't always decide the game," McGonagall replied. "It only ends the game."
Whatever Steve might have said in response was lost in the blood suddenly pounding in Tony's ears. Harry had gone into a near-vertical dive headfirst toward the ground. Every instinct Tony had screamed at him to save his son.
He was about to give the command that would activate the Iron Man armor when Harry pulled up suddenly, and even from this distance Tony could see both the smile on Harry's face and that he had something clenched in his fist.
"He caught it," Steve murmured.
"Indeed," McGonagall said, more than a hint of pride in her voice. "He's caught the snitch - and, incidentally won the match - every game he's played."
While Tony could have watched Harry fly all day - his son's expression mirrored his own joy at simply flying - and resolved to join him as soon as he finished with the business of the day, said business had to take precedence, so he reluctantly turned away.
McGonagall led them past a vast lake and to the greenhouses where Herbology was taught. Steve appeared to be fascinated by all of it, and years of practice let Tony make appropriate appreciative comments while otherwise focusing on remembering everything he saw.
After the greenhouses, a short walk led to the main entrance and the great hall on the ground floor. Four tables ran the length of the hall, and on the far, shorter, wall, another table ran horizontally with a - throne? Certainly a more elaborate chair - in the center position.
"Does Her Majesty dine at Hogwarts often?" Tony asked.
"Her Majesty is a Muggle," McGonagall replied. "To my knowledge, she has never dined at Hogwarts."
"Huh."
"Why do you ask?"
"I couldn't think of any other reason for a throne to be there," Tony said.
"That is the headmaster's chair," McGonagall replied.
Wow. Pretentious, much?
Tony kept the thought to himself, barely, though he wasn't sure what his expression might be conveying. Instead, he said, "Don't the long tables make it hard for students to mingle?"
"Each house has its own table," McGonagall replied.
"So they don't mingle?" Steve asked. "How can they make friends with anyone outside their own house? Unless there are other common areas?"
"Each house has its own common room," McGonagall said.
"And how many times do students from one house go to the common room of another house?" Tony asked.
"It's not prohibited, nor is it something I believe anyone keeps track of."
Then she was moving on, showing them classrooms, the library, the hospital wing - which he tried to convince himself was the same as a school nurse's office, just with a different name - where they spoke briefly with Pomfrey, and finally to the entrance to Gryffindor tower.
Along the way, they encountered suits of armor that snapped to attention as they passed and portraits that moved and even spoke to them.
Steve seemed decidedly uncomfortable at the portraits, less so at the suits of armor, and Tony resolved to ask him about that once they were safely back at SI.
"Mind your step," McGonagall said as they came to a flight of stairs - that somehow moved out of its path just as the party approached. She leapt nimbly from the corridor where they were and onto the moving staircase.
Tony followed, and Steve followed behind him.
"Do you have a problem with students being late to class?" Steve asked while Tony was making a note to teach the magical world that just because you can doesn't mean you should. Stairs were dangerous enough without adding movement to them.
"Mostly during the first week of the school year," McGonagall replied. "Until they've had the chance to learn the correct routes."
"And how many students are injured as a result of the moving staircases every year?" Tony asked.
"One or two. But as you've seen for yourself, Mr. Stark, they can be healed rather quickly."
"Uh-huh." Tony leaned over the railing and looked down at the floor. "Unless they land awkwardly and break their necks. … Unless magic can heal that, too?"
"Unfortunately not," McGonagall said. "But no student has died at Hogwarts since 1943."
That seemed like a pretty good record - and Steve's unease had faded, as far as Tony could tell - but before either of them could ask more questions, McGonagall paused at a large portrait of a … well, Tony supposed the polite term these days was plus-sized lady in a pink dress.
"Cor leonis," McGonagall said.
"Now, Professor," the portrait-lady replied. "You know Heads of House need no passwords."
"I'm demonstrating internal security here at Hogwarts for my guests," McGonagall replied.
"Not very secure to tell us the password, though," Tony observed.
"It will, of course, be changed upon your departure," McGonagall replied stiffly. Then again, most of her manner seemed stiff, upper lip or otherwise.
The portrait frame swung away from the wall to reveal a round hole.
"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit," Steve murmured.
"Remind me to show you those movies," Tony said. "At least The Lord of the Rings trilogy. The Hobbit just started last year, so jury's out on that one."
"This leads into the common room for Gryffindor House," McGonagall said, and led the way inside.
Tony followed and emerged into a round many-windowed room, cozy with squashy armchairs and a large fireplace that, given Scottish weather, likely held a burning fire most of the year when students were in residence.
"That staircase," McGonagall pointed to her right, "leads to the girls' dormitories. The staircase is charmed so that if a boy starts up it, a klaxon goes off and the stairs become a stone slide."
"Teachers are exempt, of course," Tony murmured. "Have to be, in case of emergency."
"Quite. Over here," she led the way across the room to her left, "are the stairs to the boys' dorms. If you'll follow me?"
Tony started up the stairs behind her. "No security system on these stairs?"
"The founders believed girls to be more trustworthy than boys," McGonagall replied, "so, no."
"I'm not sure I agree," Steve said. "Though in my day, most girls did want to preserve at least their reputations."
There didn't seem to be anything to say to that, so the rest of the trip was conducted in silence. McGonagall opened a door leading off the second-floor landing.
"This was Mr. Potter's dorm last year," she said. "There is a dorm for each year."
Tony looked past her to see five four-poster beds hung with red velvet curtains. "Only five boys in Harry's year?"
"Unfortunately," McGonagall said. "Harry's yearmates were all born during the Wizarding War - you can understand there wouldn't be many children born during wartime."
"But the years after should see an increase, right?" Tony asked. "I mean, if wizards act like we did after the Second World War."
"The Baby Boom," Steve said, and grinned when Tony shot him a look. "I started reading up on this new world before we came to England."
"Right." But Steve's serious expression prompted Tony to add, "Don't like the décor?"
"No, it's fine," Steve replied. "I just - it doesn't seem like there's any place for someone to study quietly."
"Most students study in the library," McGonagall said. "Some sit outside when the weather is fine."
Steve nodded, and McGonagall turned to lead them back down the stairway. Tony thought he understood Steve's point, though. The library and outside might be fine, as the professor put it, but they were also public, and sometimes, Tony just wanted to be alone and comfortable. Those didn't seem to be options at Hogwarts.
"I thought I'd show you the library after tea," McGonagall said. "Given your penchant for reading Mr. Potter's textbooks."
"Can I borrow books from the library?" Tony asked.
"They are for student and staff use only."
"Then I'll pass. No sense looking if I can't borrow."
"You could make a list of books to buy," Steve pointed out.
"No sense buying until I know where I'm going to put them," Tony said. McGonagall must've taken that as a not-so-oblique reminder that whether he and, by extension, Harry, would stay in Britain was still an open question. At least technically it was an open question. For now. "Where are we headed now?"
"The staff meeting room for tea," she replied. "We've taken the liberty of inviting the four Heads of House, who are also core subject instructors, to join us."
Tony flicked a glance at Steve, saw his own concern mirrored in the other man's eyes. They'd planned for one or two magicals, assuming Tony's armor and Steve's enhancements would keep them on a mostly even footing. But five? If worse came to worst, five to two odds might be overwhelming.
Tony forced himself to continue as though he weren't alternately terrified and plotting. "And you're Harry's Head of House, right? Gryffindor?"
"Yes."
Tony nodded and fell silent until they reached what appeared to be more of a break room than a meeting room.
Five other people awaited them inside. McGonagall introduced a squat woman with flyaway gray hair as Pomona Sprout, professor of Herbology and Head of Hufflepuff House. Sprout accepted Tony's and Steve's offered hands with a smile that seemed to fill her whole face.
After her came a quite short man named Filius Flitwick, professor of Charms, former dueling master, and Head of Ravenclaw House. His smile wasn't as bright as Sprout's but seemed genuine enough and his grip was almost as firm as Steve's.
Then came a scowling, sallow-complected man with greasy-looking hair and a large hooked nose who turned out to be Severus Snape, professor of Potions and Head of Slytherin House. The one who tried to humiliate Harry on the first day of class. Nonetheless, Tony offered his hand. Snape shook it perfunctorily.
The final person in the room was a wizard with Gandalf-gray hair and beard, each of which fell to his waist wearing a set of robes in vivid periwinkle blue with animated orange firebirds darting and diving all over them.
"Headmaster." McGonagall's voice brought him out of his momentary reverie. "Mr. Anthony Stark and Captain Steven Rogers. Gentlemen, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore."
"Tony, please," Tony said to the man, offering his hand.
But Dumbledore wasn't looking at him. Instead, his gaze was fixed on Steve.
"Hello, Albus," Steve said, and Tony's brain shut down.
At least, he thought wildly, McGonagall and the others looked equally shocked.
"Captain," Dumbledore said, and he sounded only somewhat less stunned than the others. "Forgive me - you're the last person I expected to see."
"Likewise," Steve said with a grin.
"The years have been kind to you."
"I spent seventy of them in suspended animation."
Dumbledore frowned. "Suspended animation? I'm not familiar with the term."
"Think of it like a really deep sleep," Tony said. "But your body doesn't age, or starve, or anything else like that."
"It sounds rather like the Draught of the Living Death," McGonagall said, and that wasn't an ominous name at all.
"Ah," Dumbledore said. "Well, Captain - I'm quite glad to see you looking hale and hearty. Shall we sit for tea?"
The table was set for seven, and Tony took the one nearest him, offering a silent thanks that the headmaster didn't require a throne at this table, too.
"Without meaning to be rude, Mr. Stark," Flitwick said as place settings appeared before each of them, "how is it that you're Mr. Potter's father? James and Lily were quite devoted to each other."
"I know," Tony said, smiling as memories floated briefly into his awareness before fading again. "But devotion can't overcome a curse."
"A curse?" Sprout asked. "What do you mean?"
"They told me that James had an injury or accident of some kind while at work," Tony said. "I've since concluded that he was cursed, somehow, and therefore couldn't have children. They approached me to be a sperm donor."
"Why you?" Snape asked. "Or more precisely, why a Muggle?"
"No clue as to why she chose a non-magical," Tony said. "But as for me? She wanted someone at least as smart as she was and who looked similar to James."
"It's a shame he didn't take after his parents in intelligence," Snape said with a sneer, and Tony's eyebrows flew up even as Steve went rigid beside him.
"Harry is quite intelligent, Severus," Dumbledore said. "If a bit … lax in his studies."
"Yeah, that's gonna change," Tony said. "I don't expect him to be as smart as me, but I do expect him to do his best."
"That's all any of us can do," Sprout agreed. "While I'm sure you have questions for us, I hope you'll indulge us in asking a few about you."
Tony gave her one of his less-practiced smiles. "Honestly? I didn't expect anything else."
"What kind of work do you do in the Muggle world, Mr. Stark?" Flitwick asked.
"Pretty much whatever I want," Tony replied without thinking. The slight furrowing of Steve's forehead made him review his words, and he chuckled in self-deprecation. "That could mean almost anything. But my father built Stark Industries into a leading manufacturer of weapons during World War Two. I carried on that legacy for a while, until … well. Let's just say that while I still design and manufacture armor and defensive equipment for the military, I've shifted focus into providing clean energy and other beneficial services."
"I understood all of that except clean energy," McGonagall said.
"Energy - the thing that powers our equipment and technology," Tony said, and sought a simple explanation. "Until recently, most energy was created by burning fossil fuels or coal, both of which produce large amounts of toxic by-products - gases, pollution, things like that. Clean energy sources don't pollute. Or at least, they don't pollute as much."
Conversation flowed relatively easily after that, covering a range of both magical and non-magical topics. Tony noted that Snape rarely participated, only responding when asked a direct question, and while he couldn't find it in himself to fault the man too much for that - not everyone was socially adept, after all - he did wonder how Snape's taciturn nature translated to the classroom.
It was well over an hour later when the house elf - Daffy? No, Taffy - popped into view. "Taffy is sorry to be interrupting," she said, "but governor be here to see Professor Snapey."
"Bring him," Snape said. "We will adjourn to my office from here."
"You know which governor, Severus?" Dumbledore asked.
"Lucius Malfoy said he would stop by today or tomorrow," Snape replied. "I assume it to be him."
"Mr. Malfoy is a member of the Board of Governors of Hogwarts," McGonagall offered, though Tony was sure his expression hadn't conveyed a question. Maybe she was just being politely thorough?
Tony nodded an acknowledgment, but before he could say anything, a tall man with blond hair almost as pale as his pointed face strode into the room, pausing only briefly when he saw the assembled group.
"Forgive my intrusion," he said, his accent very clearly upper-crust. "Headmaster, Professors, and … guests."
The man's arrogant manner pushed all of Tony's buttons in all the wrong ways. Still, it never hurt to be polite, so he rose to his feet and offered his hand. "Tony Stark."
The man looked down his nose at Tony's hand, but ultimately took it briefly. "Stark? It's not a name I'm familiar with."
Tony just smirked as Steve rose and offered his own hand. "Steve Rogers."
"Lucius Malfoy," the man replied, then frowned. "Americans?"
"Mr. Stark is Harry Potter's natural father," Dumbledore said.
Malfoy's eyes narrowed as he gave Tony a quick, mostly discreet, once-over and obviously dismissed him as no one of importance. He offered a thin smile. "I - see. And what brings you to Hogwarts, Mr. Stark?"
"Just checking out where my son goes to school," Tony replied. "It's the responsible thing to do."
"Quite," Malfoy said. "Though Muggles don't usually come to Hogwarts."
Tony grinned. "I'm not a usual Muggle."
"If you'll come with me," Snape said. "We can conduct our business in my office."
"What business might that be?" McGonagall demanded. "Buying new brooms for Slytherin again?"
Tony was preparing to be bored while various people in the room traded barbs when the impact of her words hit him. "Wait, what?" Tony demanded. "You're telling me this man bought new brooms for only one house?"
"For all the good it did them," Sprout replied. "His Nimbus 2001s weren't a match for Potter and his Nimbus 2000."
"The Inter-House Quidditch Cup was cancelled last year," Malfoy said, as though it was only that fact that prevented Slytherin from winning.
"But Gryffindor defeated Slytherin in the one match that was played," Flitwick pointed out.
"Luck is an element in every game," Malfoy said, clearly implying it was luck rather than any skill on Harry's part that led to the victory.
Tony's hackles were rising, and just as he was about to tear into Lucius Malfoy, Steve spoke.
"That's very true, and it sounds wise to say," Steve said, fixing Malfoy with a stern look. "But cheating isn't the same as luck." Then he turned that same look at McGonagall. "And it wasn't when Harry received a Nimbus 2000, the then-fastest broom on the market, when everyone else was playing with whatever they could afford or the school had."
Which left Tony wondering just how much Harry had told Steve that he hadn't told him, and whether he should be jealous of Harry's apparent rapport with Steve.
"Surely you don't expect one to outfit one's opponents to win?" Malfoy said, and that was an opening Tony could capitalize on.
"Opponents?" Tony repeated. "No. Everyone? Yes. So I'm left to wonder if you intended to favor one house or if you couldn't afford brooms for all four houses?"
"Do you have any idea how much quality brooms cost?" Malfoy demanded.
"Not a clue," Tony replied cheerfully. "But I do know that four brooms, one for each Seeker, would be cheaper than seven brooms for one team."
His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out to look at the screen. A text from JARVIS conveyed that the newest, top-of-the-line broom just out this summer, the Firebolt, was about G1,500. A little mental arithmetic told him that he could outfit all four teams with Firebolts for less than three hundred thousand U.S. Another hundred thousand or so would provide enough second- or third-tier brooms for the introductory flying classes.
"That is true," Malfoy said, "but House loyalty does count for something. I was sorted Slytherin, so naturally I favor them."
"Favoring is fine," Steve retorted. "Stacking the deck in their favor is not."
Before that discussion could turn into an argument that came to blows, Tony said, "There's a simple solution."
"And what's that?" Malfoy and McGonagall demanded, almost in chorus, and clearly that thought was distasteful to both of them if their expressions were anything to go by.
"I'll buy brooms for all four Houses," Tony said. "And enough other brooms for the flying classes. Plus whatever practice equipment the teams need, and a professional-grade set of equipment for the school, to be used in the matches themselves."
Malfoy spluttered. "That's more than seventy-five thousand Galleons!"
"A little less than half a million dollars," Tony agreed before turning to McGonagall. "Who should I send them to?"
McGonagall recovered quickly. "Madame Rolanda Hooch is our Quidditch referee and flying instructor."
"Hooch?" Tony repeated, grinning widely. "Really?"
"I fail to see what's so amusing about her name," McGonagall said sternly.
"It's just that hooch is American slang for alcohol, especially the illegally made or obtained variety," Tony said.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled again. "Indeed? I didn't know that. I daresay Rolanda will be as amused as we are by that information."
But Malfoy was sneering at him. "You really think that you can outfit the entire Hogwarts Quidditch and flying programs with brooms? Just like that?"
"Pretty much," Tony said. "J, have Bear order twenty-eight Firebolt brooms, four professional grade Quidditch practice sets, and one Quidditch competition set. Then order standard brooms until you've reached half a million U.S. or eighty thousand Galleons, whichever comes first. Have them all delivered to Rolanda Hooch at Hogwarts."
JARVIS' acknowledgment came via a slight vibration in his phone, and Tony tapped it once to confirm receipt - then looked up and found Lucius Malfoy staring at him with his mouth agape and a completely dumbfounded expression on his face.
"Problem?" Tony asked as innocently as he knew how. Which wasn't very.
"Updating the school's equipment is never a problem, Mr. Stark," Dumbledore answered, and his eyes were twinkling so much Tony wanted to ask if he had a condition. "Don't you agree, Mr. Malfoy?"
Malfoy collected himself somewhat, though his tone was barely civil when he replied, "Of course. Hogwarts students deserve the best."
"Happy to help," Tony said carelessly - mostly because he knew it would annoy the other man. He might not know Lucius Malfoy personally, but he certainly knew his type. Tony'd been pissing off his type for years and saw no reason to stop now.
"Thank you," Malfoy said through gritted teeth before turning his gaze to Snape. "I've intruded enough. Perhaps you can join us at the Manor for dinner tomorrow night? We can conclude our business then."
"Of course," Snape replied, and he appeared almost as flabbergasted as Malfoy.
Tony watched as Malfoy swept from the room and turned back to find five people staring at him in various degrees of shock, and Steve just gave him a smile and nod.
"What?" Tony asked the magicals.
"You've made an enemy," Snape said. "Lucius Malfoy is no one to be trifled with."
"He's a bully," Tony shot back. "I'm not as allergic to bullies as Rogers, but bullies have no place in school. Speaking of which-" he turned to Dumbledore. "Why do you let him," he nodded at Snape, "bully the students?"
"Professor Snape is one of the top Potions Masters in Europe," Dumbledore replied.
"And I'm one of the top engineers in the world," Tony said. "Doesn't mean I can teach."
"It's not my fault the students are too dunderheaded to learn," Snape said with a truly impressive sneer.
Tony blinked, and beside him, Steve stared at the Potions Master in horror.
"With that attitude," Steve said, "why on Earth do you teach? I don't know how things work in the magical world, but if you're that skilled with potions, aren't people falling all over themselves to hire you?"
"The headmaster offered me more freedom than any of the others," Snape said.
"Freedom's great," Tony said. "Americans, right? Freedom is our thing. But," he deliberately hardened his tone, "that does not give you the right to bully or humiliate your students."
Snape's lip curled. "I don't know what Potter's been telling you-"
"That on his first day of class, you called him a celebrity in a very insulting manner, and then, when he didn't know answers to questions that weren't in the first chapter of the assigned text, you dismissed him with fame isn't everything."
Tony had never thought Harry had lied to him about that, but now he saw confirmation in Snape's eyes, if not his otherwise expressionless face.
"And to really put a cherry on the top of the sundae of his first class," Tony continued, "when another student made a mistake with his potion, you blamed Harry for not preventing it, when Harry was focused on his own potion. Where you do get off treating any student like that?"
"Potter is an arrogant, spoilt brat-"
"Like hell he is!" Tony cut him off. "I met him for the first time last week while he was lying in a hospital recovering from a car accident that killed his aunt. His doctor told me he'd been physically abused. Having met his uncle, I expect there was emotional abuse in there, too. Harry may be arrogant - I haven't seen it - but I guarantee you, he was never spoilt."
"And even if he were," Steve put in, "that still doesn't give you the right to be a bully."
"And the rest of you," Tony added, "are complicit in letting it happen. Don't any of you give a damn about your students?"
"I don't appreciate your implication," Flitwick began, but Tony cut him off.
"Not an implication, a statement of fact. You let this man bully students - multiple, because I'm sure Harry's not the only one - and by letting him, you encouraged him. Every single one of you ought to be ashamed of yourselves."
And just when did I start sounding like my father?
Since I became a father myself.
The realization was humbling, amusing, and horrifying all at once, and Tony forced it aside to deal with it later. Right now, he had to deal with five magic-users he'd just pissed off.
"I am."
The admission came from McGonagall, and when Tony glanced at her, he saw tears forming in her eyes. "I am doubly ashamed because I saw how the Dursley boy treated his mother, and I protested Harry being left there. Clearly I didn't do enough. I apologize. I know it's not enough," she added, "but it's true."
"No more, Severus," Flitwick said. "You will not bully our students anymore."
"Now, Filius," Dumbledore began.
"No, Albus," Sprout declared. "You've let it go unchecked long enough. We've let it go unchecked long enough. Do better, Severus."
"Or else what?" Snape asked with another of his trademark sneers.
"Or else you'll be meeting me on the dueling stage," Flitwick said. Coming from such a short man, the threat should've been funny, but Flitwick's expression would make even Tony think twice about crossing him.
"Severus has my complete trust," Dumbledore put in.
"It's not about trust, Albus." The quiet declaration came from Steve, who looked grimmer than Tony had ever seen him - and Tony had seen him in the middle of an alien invasion.
"Kind of is," Tony argued. "Only it's not about your trust in him. It's about the students' trust that they'll have a safe learning environment. And I gotta say, the headmaster defending a bullying professor? Not a good look."
"Indeed not," McGonagall gave the headmaster a stern look. "And we will discuss how to handle such incidents going forward after this meeting concludes."