Chapter Text
Eddie was a late bloomer. He was a little more eccentric than the other trailer park kids, but they generally didn’t mind his dramatics, his loud emotions, or his music that they all called “screeching noise.” They were a little rat-pack that stuck together at a school divided by wealth and privilege, and Eddie considered them his friends. He’d gotten into a couple scuffles over the years for a few of them, and they had done the same for him. Eddie had been happy how he was.
But the summer after he turned thirteen, right before he and a couple others from their rat-pack started eighth grade, Eddie had made a dead potted plant explode with a wave of his hand. He’d been trying to learn a Black Sabbath guitar riff, and he kept messing up this one cord sequence. In frustration, he’d thrown his pick in the direction of the plant, and, just as Wayne had entered the room, the plant and its hand-painted blue polka dot pot burst into a cloud of dirt and pieces of ceramic.
They’d both stared at the debris littering half the room with their jaws dropped open in identical expressions of confusion and disbelief.
“What the fuck,” Eddie had said, and Wayne had grunted and shook his head before grabbing the broom and the dustpan and chucking them at Eddie’s feet.
“You break it you bought it,” he said before turning and letting the door snap closed behind him. He needed a smoke.
Not even two weeks later, similar exploding incidents had kept occurring that left Eddie and Wayne on edge—especially after Eddie made a flickering streetlight shatter in a loud pop and shower of sparks—an owl with downy brown feathers and note tied to its leg with red ribbon appeared.
They’d shooed the owl away after tossing the ridiculous note into the trash. A school for wizards and witches? Bullshit.
Another owl came, and another, and another, and at least three more before the owls stopped after Wayne chased the last one off with a couple shots from his pistol. Their neighbors started looking at them funny after that.
Three days later, a brown tabby cat showed up on their doorstep at midnight. It had scurried into the trailer as soon as Eddie swung the door open to the persistent scratching. He’d yelled as it weaved through his legs, and again, like that first potted-plant incident, Wayne walked into the room right as the cat turned into a woman with dark robes, warm brown eyes, and a witch’s hat. It was just the icing on the cake that she had a fucking British accent.
A month later Eddie and Wayne were getting on a plane to England to find some mystical train station that would take Eddie to his new home for the next five years or more. He was apparently two years behind in his magic studies, and if he worked hard he’d be able to catch up, but Eddie was never the best student, so he didn’t have much hope for that. He’d barely been squeaking by with Cs in English and Math, and he’d been taking those types of classes forever. How was he supposed to excel in Charms and Potions when he’d thought magic was just a fantasy?
Eddie thought he was fucked.
Despite how cynical and skeptical he was about the whole magical-studies and castle-school, Eddie couldn’t help but be excited. He was apparently magic. Magic! A bonafide wizard from D&D—admittedly a level 1 wizard but still, a wizard! It was fucking metal. He’d be able to throw actual fireballs and cast curses and make healing droughts. What nerdy kid wouldn’t think that was a dream come true?
He and Wayne had hugged and slapped each other hard on the back, and Wayne had scrubbed his hand over Eddie’s long curls. Laughing, Eddie had pushed him off and scrubbed the back of his hand over his eyes before any tears could fall on the train platform, and then he ran full speed at a wall and came out the other side in a completely different world. Fucking metal.
Eddie spent his train ride with his nose pressed to the glass of his little private compartment. He heard the chatter of kids from other groups in different little rooms. A tall lanky boy with dark greasy hair, a green striped tie, and a brown bag of some type of crunchy snacks that Eddie couldn’t identify just ignored him for the entire ride. He just shoved his way into the compartment and refused to even make eye contact when Eddie had tried. Well, fuck him. Eddie didn’t mind not getting along with everyone. He was used to that shit from the rich pricks back home.
Boy, if only he knew the type of greeting he was going to get from the rest of the snobs of Hogwarts.
Steve was twelve and going into his second year at Hogwarts when he met his platonic soulmate, although he didn’t know it yet, and when he first laid eyes on Eddie Munson.
Steve Harrington was the first of his family to not be sorted into Slytherin in generations. His father had told him multiple times that the Sorting Hat had barely touched the tips of his hair before it was belting out “Slytherin” quicker and louder than any other first year student that year. He had expected no less from his son, his heir, and was decidedly not pleased when Steve had reported back that he had been sorted into Hufflepuff. His father held a fierce distaste for Gryffindors, but he abhorred the lily-livered snot-nosed bratty badgers. They were whiny scum to his father.
Steve decided not to tell his parents that the Sorting Hat had deliberated and hemmed and hawed for almost two full minutes between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff before finally sorting him. He knew it would just make his father angrier and his mother more disappointed.
They didn’t send him more than two letters the rest of the year. One was to tell him that they wouldn’t be able to pick him up for winter break and he’d have to use the Floo system home. He only saw his parents for two days during that break. The other letter told him the same thing for summer break except that his parents wouldn’t be returning to the Harrington estate that summer, and that he was left in charge of the house and the servants.
To say that Steve was happy to be back at Hogwarts was an understatement—not that he didn’t appreciate and like the servants at home, but he didn’t like being called “Young Master” one bit, and no matter how many times he told them to just call him Steve, the servants refused.
Steve was jittery with excitement. He thought the Sorting Ceremony was still a novelty, excited for his new potential housemates. Early on in the ceremony, a young girl with hair so tousled it looked like she’d been in a wind storm up until the very moment she stepped up to be sorted was placed in Hufflepuff. She tripped down the stairs and careened into the table at Steve’s side.
“Oh, jeez! I didn’t mean to just ram into you like that!” she exclaimed, freckled cheeks flushing in embarrassment. Steve laughed good-naturedly.
“It’s okay. I kept stepping on my robe for months last year. I’m surprised I only ran face first into two walls,” he said. She giggled and relaxed slightly as she scooted away from him a bit.
“I’m Robin!” she said.
“Steve. Nice to meet you,” he said as he stuck out his hand for her to shake. She was cute, in a mousy way, Steve thought before he turned his attention back to the ceremony to cheer for the new students.
Jonathan Byers, son of Professor Byers who taught arithmancy, was sorted into Ravenclaw, and Steve watched was Professor Byers cheered along with the Ravenclaws for her son even though she was from Gryffindor. Steve felt a lump in the back of his throat, and he took a sip from his goblet to hopefully clear it. It didn’t help.
A small girl with wide chocolate eyes and pretty dark curls named Nancy Wheeler was also sorted into Ravenclaw, and Steve thought she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.
As the line of students dwindled, Steve and the rest of the students were growing antsy. They were so close to the feast, and students were gradually murmuring more and more between raucous cheers.
A hush fell over the room as Professor Bauman announced that they had a late-starter, a rare phenomenon that happened when a muggle-born presented late. Steve craned his head around to try to get a glimpse of the last student.
The boy had long dark curls, almost molten in the candlelight, and he was pale with equally dark eyes. He looked around the hall with wide eyes filled with awe. Steve remembered feeling like that too. Hogwarts was a lot, especially the Great Hall.
“Eddie Munson, late-starter from Indiana,” Professor Bauman intoned before placing the Sorting Hat on top of the boy’s head. It seemed like the room held its breath to see who would get this new odd commodity.
Eddie theoretically understood what the Sorting Hat was as he watched kid after kid get put into one of the four subdivisions this weird boarding school had. Theoretically was a hell of a lot different than actually experiencing it.
“Oh, how interesting,” the croaky voice echoed in Eddie’s head.
“Jesus H. Christ!” He hissed, jolting on the stool. He’d heard the hat talk and yell out the house names, but it felt different with it sitting on his head. It felt like the piece of cloth was in his head, parsing through his thoughts and memories like flipping through a large heavy book.
“Hm, yes. Your world’s about to expand exponentially, little muggle-born. I see you were quite loyal to your friends, hm? And viciously spiteful to those who weren’t. Yes, so interesting. A difficult little puzzle,” the hat said. Eddie scrunched his nose up at the squirmy feeling of being seen too clearly.
“Just get on with it, shit,” he whispered. The hat chuckled.
“Loyal, cunning, creative, and even a little brave. I can see it now. Yes, you’ll be an intriguing student. Really shake things up, won’t you? Only one place for you then. Yes,” the hat paused. Eddie swore he could feel it breathing on his head. He shuddered. So fucking creepy.
“Well? Get the fuck on with it!” Eddie growled. He was tapping his fingers erratically on the stool, nails bitten down to the quick.
“Slytherin!”
Unlike after every new student’s assignment prior, when Eddie rose to go to his table the hall remained eerily quiet.
He glanced around at the other tables. Some followed him with wide curious eyes while others turned away to talk to their own. When Eddie finally faced the people he was going to be lumped with for the foreseeable future, all he saw was disdain, disgust, and distrust written clearly on every grimacing and squinty-eyed face. Fantastic.
The thing about being a Hufflepuff that Steve liked the most was that they mainly escaped stupid house rivalries. They could talk to Ravenclaws about obscure wizarding history or new magical instruments being invented without people batting an eye. Gryffindors loved to include them in their games and let them sit at their table in the Great Hall. Hell, even Slytherins liked Hufflepuffs and gave them pointers for Potions class and taught them small curses to put off the rare person that wanted to bully a badger.
Steve liked that he could be friends with anybody in any house without being judged. All they would say would be “Oh, it’s just a Hufflepuff being friendly.”
So when Tommy Hagan, a Slytherin, came up to Steve in Flying class during their first year and helped explain how to get the broom to fly, well, Steve decided that Tommy would make a great friend, one even his serpent-pride father would approve. They’d been practically attached at the hip most days since.
By the end of their first year, Steve and Tommy became Steve, Tommy, and Carol. Carol and Tommy were already gaining whispers of being the next Slytherin power-couple even though they had barely gotten through a few months of their second year. Steve was happy for them.
They ate lunch out in the courtyard most days when it was nice out. Steve liked the sunshine and the birdsong. He hated silence. Tommy and Carol liked that other people could see them outside and fuel the Hogwarts gossip rag some more.
“Did you understand anything Professor Bauman was saying today? I got lost when started talking about the difference between the House Ghosts and poltergeists and apparitions,” Steve said around a chunk of apple. “What does the Ministry of Magic have to do with a conspiracy to conceal the unconcealable? Like unconcealable because ghosts can just pass through walls or whatever?”
“Man, that guy’s drank too much Essence of Insanity. Definitely got a screw loose,” Tommy scoffed as he spun his index finger around his temple. Carol giggled from where she was leaning into Tommy’s side.
“They just hired him because he’s got so many N.E.W.Ts. Doesn’t mean he’s not crazy,” Carol said.
“Speaking of crazy,” Tommy said as he sat up straight and frowned, “that fucking mudblood’s at it again!”
Steve never understood the Slytherin obsession with purebloodedness. Nobody could choose who they were born to. It didn’t make sense.
“Ugh, I know! Munson just can’t get it through his thick skull to keep his head down! He totally lost us twenty house points in Muggle Studies by arguing about semantics again!” Carol groaned.
“What a freak. He fucks up the easiest spells half the time, but he still gets fast-tracked to higher level classes! No matter how many points he loses!” Tommy spat as he waved his hand around agitatedly.
“Maybe he’s just better at certain subjects than others. I know I’m shit at Potions, but Herbology makes sense to me,” Steve suggested. He took another bite of his apple as Tommy rolled his eyes.
“You say that ‘cause you’re a Puff. Puffs are too fucking naïve to see when people are freaks. No, Munson fucking blows in all his classes, but he just screws around like it’s some big joke. The house can’t stand him, and nobody else wants to deal with his mudblood weirdness either. Serves the fucker right,” Tommy said as he jammed half his ham and cheese sandwich in his mouth angrily.
“Yeah, he’s definitely gotten cursed a lot of times by some of our house fifth years for losing so many points. Maybe eventually the freak will learn to just keep to himself,” Carol sighed.
“Gods, I can’t wait to learn more Dark Arts spells! I’ll show that freak when I kick his ass in duels!” Tommy grinned. Carol patted him on the chest.
“You’ll throw some fireballs at him?” she said. Tommy laughed.
“I’ll obliterate him. Duels are what my dad liked the most,” Tommy said before he started regaling Carol with his father’s tales of his triumphs at school that Tommy was sure to excel in too. Steve tuned him out.
Steve wondered idly what it would be like to be so disliked by his own housemates and to be ignored by the rest of school because they didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire of Slytherins and their grudges, even if it was against one of their own. Steve shuddered. He thought that sounded incredibly lonely.
It took Eddie less than a week to realize that he wanted nothing to do with any of the snobbish student body at Hogwarts. It took him a month to figure out how to get around the school through hidden passageways and moving corridors to avoid most people. It took him three months to start believing Professor Byers when she said that he was doing really well, that he was actually a really competent wizarding student, that he had potential to be a really powerful wizard. It took him about four months to realize pretending to still flub basic spells and act like an idiot for the majority of the student body kept him out of the warpath. Even when he was doing well, he couldn’t do right by his house, so he took to warding himself against curses. It took him seven months to be branded Eddie “The Freak” Munson. It took him through summer break, when the castle was being run by a skeleton crew of staff, to realize the house elves and the dwarves that worked around the castle were super cool and had all sorts of tricks for magic. His little D&D brain was exploding.
By the time Eddie was starting his second year at Hogwarts, a mix of third and fourth year classes in his schedule, he had accepted that he’d spend most of his time at Hogwarts away from the other kids, working with the professors outside class, and hanging out with the elves and dwarves. He missed Wayne, but he knew his uncle was doing okay through their letters. Wayne had sent him his guitar late in the summer, and Eddie planned on reacquainting himself with his girl as fast as possible. He figured the dwarves wouldn’t mind a little metal mixing with the clanging and crashing of working on repairs around the castle. When he spent late nights down in the kitchens, he’d play some softer stuff for the elves while they prepped for the next day’s meals. They’d probably appreciate that more than his sorry attempts to help cook. The incident with the beetroots was evidence enough that cooking wasn’t going to be his forte.
As much as Eddie told himself that he was content, that he was doing okay, hell, that he was even excelling, he couldn’t shake the homesickness. He had a world full of magic and dragons and elves and unicorns and spiders the size of horses and he lived in a castle. He should be filled with wonder and excitement and ecstatic that his favorite fantasy lore was real, and he was to some extent.
It just so happened that he was pretty damn lonely too.