So... How do I explain this? First of all, I love Harry Potter, and second of all, I am absolutely obsessed with Stranger Things, so basically, the only logical thing to do was to mix them up, right?

Anyway, this story was created after long hours of staring at the ceiling and imagining the ST kids in various settings, until suddenly — bam! I saw them walking around Hogwarts wearing school robes and jinxing James and Troy, and I thought, I'd pay to see that. So I wrote that scene, then another one, and another one, and then fuck, I should probably write an entire story now, should I?

Bummer.

So without further ado, here's the HP/ST crossover AU that nobody asked for. (PS. This is fanfiction, so Hawkins, Indiana could be in England. Fight me.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Stranger Things, Star Wars, and Eggos.

CHAPTER ONE: RAIN, PROPECHIES, AND JANE IVES

June 1982

JIM Hopper was pacing across the living room of his cabin at Hawkins, Indiana, his wet cloak dripping water onto the wooden floorboards, which creaked and bent under his weight. He blew smoke from his long, black pipe, hoping that it would give him some kind of relief, but when his lifelong habit didn't seem to help alleviate the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach, he threw the thing away and settled at glaring daggers on the lamplight instead.

"Calm down, Jim."

Hopper looked at the woman sitting on the huge armchair in the middle of the room. "Calm down? You want me to calm down?"

Joyce Byers sighed. Like Hopper, her cloak had been soaked from the heavy rain, but unlike him, she had sense enough to take it off and drape it over a chair near the fireplace.

She was exhausted; they had just literally come out of a storm, and here he was, walking back and forth across the room with such speed and ferocity that it was making her dizzy. He had been doing it for the last thirty minutes or so, and if he doesn't stop soon, Joyce was fairly certain that she was going to get a headache. Knowing that there was only one way to make him stop, she took her wand out and flicked it — and a silver pocket watch slowly spilled from its tip.

"It's only been an hour since Professor Clarke and the others left," she informed him. Hopper glanced at the pocket watch in her hand; the silver pendant was open, revealing a smooth, glass face. The hands read 9:25 pm. "If things go according to plan, then they should probably be here by midnight."

With the way Hopper had been scowling, she was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to last until midnight. Joyce looked up at the ceiling. She wondered how Will and Jonathan — her boys — were doing. She hoped they were already in bed and weren't staying up late again, huddled on the couch, waiting for her.

"Tsk," Hopper finally said, because apparently, that's all he could think of at the moment.

"Hop," she said softly. "Everything's going to be fine."

He didn't seem to hear her.

"Clarke's a skillful wizard, and so is Callahan and the others. Stop worrying."

"Maybe I should go follow them," he said slowly. He fingered his wand, which was securely tucked under his belt. "Storm's pretty bad. I should go after them just in case —"

"You can't do that." Joyce cut him off.

"Why not?"

"You know why."

Hopper bowed his head. Joyce noticed that his hands had turned into fists, and she hoped that he would listen to her and not do anything reckless — like getting on a broom and going after Clarke and his group in the middle of a goddamn storm. Instead she watched as the retired Auror sighed and finally — thank Merlin — took off his cloak, unceremoniously throwing it to the floor to dry or rot or whatever. She wasn't sure.

Hopper sat down on the stool next to the door.

"It's just..." he started to say. He ran a hand through his damp hair. "I can't believe it. You know, that Terry's at St. Mungo's now and that my niece would actually be living with me from now on. A niece, Joyce. A kid. Living with me. Could you believe that?"

Joyce gave him a small smile. "What I can't believe is the fact that you didn't even know you had a niece until today."

"Yeah. Well." Hopper said as he leaned forward in his chair. The bloody stool wasn't giving his back any favors. "I lost contact with Terry after she left the family. My sister...well, you know the story. She ran away from home, didn't send us any message for years. I actually thought she'd died or something, and then suddenly — wham! I receive news that she was admitted at St. Mungo's, and that my niece is going to be delivered to me at this very moment."

Joyce didn't reply, so Hopper added,

"Jesus, I make her sound like she's some sort of express mail or something."

The fire crackled loudly, and Hopper turned his eyes to it, as if he was exoexting Terry's face to suddenly pop out of the flames. A few years after she had left, Hopper checked his fireplace every night, just in case she tried to contact him. He could remember his pain and disappointment after many years of waiting, when he realized that she would never give him, or their parents, a call.

"Joyce," he called out. She nodded her head to him to indicate that she was listening. "What exactly happened?"

She pursed her lips. She knew that he had the right to know, knew that he would be demanding an explanation the moment she pulled him out of the Three Broomsticks and zoomed off into into the stormy night in their brooms. She had given him a brief rundown of what had happened, of course — it would be impossible not to — but she still hadn't told him the complete details.

"Like I said earlier, Terry was found at home by her neighbor, who happened to be a wizard, lying on the kitchen floor and unconscious. It hasn't been confirmed yet — we still have to wait for the hospital's report — but we assumed that she was subjected to the Cruciatus curse." She peered at Hopper to see his reaction. When he didn't move, she continued: "Her wand was found, but it was broken in half. Her daughter, Jane, fortunately enough, wasn't home at the time of the attack."

"Awfully convenient, don't you think?" Hopper raised his wand and said, "Accio!"

His pipe flew into his outstretched hand.

Joyce narrowed her eyes. "What are you trying to say?"

"The attack happened, at, I don't know, 8 pm? Why would Jane, a ten year old girl, be out of her house at that time?" he twirled the pipe over in his fingers.

"You think Terry sent her away on purpose," Joyce stated.

Hopper shrugged. "Just a thought."

The witch made no comments.

"Say, Joyce..." She turned to him. His voice had suddenly turned dangerously low. "You wouldn't happen to know who did this, would you?"

She looked away. Know? She didn't just know — she had foreseen it. She saw the whole thing, for chrissake.

Yes, eleven years ago, when she had been toying with a crystal ball at her Divinity classroom. The glass sphere showed her that he was back, that he was out there, that he was looking for Terry Ives and her daughter Jane...

Martin Brenner, a wizard who a few years ago had struck terror in the wizarding world, and whom Happer had also happen to fought on several occassions, was back.

Joyce closed her eyes. Should she tell him?

Hopper was her best friend. She remembered the days when she and him would sneak around the castle, making sure to avoid Peeves, and sit at the grass near the edge of the forbidden forest, watching the stars as they shared the food they stole from the kitchens. They drank their first butterbeers together, were sent to detention after they were caught jinxing the brooms of the Slytherin quidditch team, watched over each other when one was at the infirmary — in short, they were inseparable.

She knew how devastated he was when he found out that his sister had left home. She recalled opening her door one night and seeing him standing there, in the rain, babbling incoherently abouy his lost sister. She had comforted him. And then, finally Joyce saw her, in a vision, and she didn't tell Hopper, didn't tell her best friend that his sister was alive and was probably in grave danger.

Joyce wondered whether things would have been better if she had told Hopper what she saw in the crystal ball that night. Maybe they could have saved Terry from Brenner and his allies, and poor little Jane wouldn't be an orphan. Still, she knew why she hadn't told him in the first place; a prophecy was not something to be meddled with.

There was only one person she had told about it: the Hogwarts Headmaster, Professor Owens. He was on the agreement that the prophecy shall be left untouched, and for that to happen, they had to withold infrmation from Hopper.

"I'm sorry, Hop," she told him, and she felt like the words were not enough to convey the extent of her apology. "I don't know who did this."

He was silent for a few seconds, then with a sigh, he said, "I see."

"That is exactly why we need Jane to be transferred here," she said, and her voice was now loud and clear. "We need to secure a place for her to stay in, somewhere unknown. We also need someone to protect her, and as her uncle and Auror, you'd do well on the job."

"Uh-huh," said Hopper, unconvinced.

"That is also why you can't come to retrieve her tonight," Joyce went on. "The men who did this could still be there, spying, and they might recognize you."

"I'm that famous, huh."

"Half of Azkaban is filled because of you."

"You give me too much credit."

Joyce raised her eyebrows. "Maybe I am. Considering you were such a lazy ass back in the day, I'm surprised you managed to capture a lot of dark wizards."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm a natural, I guess."

She could feel the atmosphere lightening with his mood, so she continued: "Naturally stubborn, you mean."

"Yeah, yeah. Same difference. You do know those dark wizards are a pain, right? They're nothing if not persistent. I had to take several curses before I could lock them up in Azkaban."

"You were a nice looking hamster, though."

"That wasn't the work of a dark wizard; that was Callahan's wand going wild."

They both laughed. Hopper put his pipe between his lips, about to inhale a healthy amount of smoke, when a series of loud knocks suddenly reverberated around the cabin, startling him and Joyce.

Joyce narrowed her eyes at the source of the sound. Hopper stood up from his seat and quietly made hia way over to her. She glanced at her pocket watch: 11:00. They stood side-by-side, and silently, with no words exchanged, raised their wands towards the front door.

"Hello?"

"What's the password?" asked Joyce seriously.

"Tweedledums!"

They both gave a sigh of relief. They eyed the door, waiting for Professor Clarke to enter. They both trusted him, but nevertheless Hopper kept his wand up, because if there was anything he learned from being an Auror, it was to never let your guard down.

The door opened, and Professor Clarke walked in. He was dripping wet; his black cloak clung to his body, and his moustache stuck to his upper lip at odd angles. His goggles dangled on one ear and a few leaves had stuck to his hair. He looled tired and cold, but otherwise, he was unharmed.

He was even smiling slightly.

"Professor Joyce, Mr. Hopper," he nodded to them. He picked a tiny twig off his hair. "I already sent Callahan and the others to St. Mungo's to get a follow up on Terry'a condition."

"Oh," said Joyce. "Good."

"So I gather everything went smoothly?" asked Hopper.

The professor bobbed his head. "Yes. The house was a mess, so we had to fix it before the Muggle police could come. We also had to obliviate some Muggles who witnessed what had happened, but other than that, everything went according to plan."

Hopper grunted in approval. "So, where is she?"

Professor Clarke beamed. "Joyce, Hopper — I'd like you to meet Jane Ives."

From behind him peered a girl with wide, brown eyes. She shifted her gaze between Hopper and Joyce, studying them warily, and when Professor Clarke gave her a nudge, she took a tentative step forward. Hopper finally had a good look at his long lost niece.

Jane had curly brown hair that went just past her ears, high cheekbones, and an upturned nose that clearly resembled Terry's. She wore an oversided cloak over a white shirt and overalls, and she was pale as a sheet. She looked terrified, confused, and curious at the same time. Jane looked so small in her large clothing that for some unknown reason, Hopper had the urge to hug her.

He didn't, though.

"Hey kid," he said, trying to be gentle as possible. Merlin knows what she had gone through. "I'm Jim. I'm your uncle. So, um..." he turned to Joyce, who gave him an encouraging smile, "You'd be living with me from now on. Is that okay with you?"

Jane nodded slowly. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"Mr. Clarke said you'd take care of me until Mama's okay."

Hopper felt a lump in his throat. "Yes, that's right. I'll take care of you while we wait for Terry, your mom, to recover."

"When is that?" she asked quietly.

Hopper glanced at Joyce and Professor Clarke before answering: "Soon."

She seemed to be struggling to say something, because she squirmed on her spot and bit her lip. Hopper hoped that she wasn't suddenly going to cry; he was pretty sure that he'd panic if she did. But all Jane did was slump her shoulders and look up at him, almost like she was giving up.

"Do you have any eggos?"

Joyce smiled at her. "Of course. Do you want some, dear? Are you hungry?"

She nodded wordlessly, and Joyce lead her to the kitchen, leaving Hopper and Professor Clarke standing alone in the living room. The professor pointed his wand at his face — a funnel of wind shot off of it, plastering his damp hair and moustache to his skin. Bad idea. He quickly put it down.

"Thank you," Hopper told him sincerely.

He smiled. "No big deal. It wasn't really that difficult," he glanced at his wristwatch. "I have to go. Please take care of her."

Hopper followed him to the door. He stepped over the threshold, and turning to go, he said, "I can't wait to have her in my class next year. I'm sure Jane would be thrilled to go there, and I'll make sure she feels welcomed at Hogwarts."

"Thank you," repeated Hopper. Although knowing that she grew up in the Muggle world, Hopper would have to do a fair amount of explaining before Jane could attend the wizarding school. "I bet she'll love it there."

"Goodnight, Hopper." A swish of a cloak, and Professor Clarke was gone.

Hopper raised his eyes to the night sky. The rain has stopped. Thoughts swirled in his mind, mixing and overlapping so fast that he was having a hard time sorting them all out. Who attacked Terry? Why did those people want her? And more importantly, Why are they after Jane?

He could hear voices drifting from the kitchen, where he knew Joyce was whipping up some kind of food to comfort the kid, and he fingered his wand, as if anticipating an attack.

What the hell was he supposed to do now?

He closed his eyes. He did not have answers to any of his questions.

At least not yet, anyway.