The first time Sungjong sees him is at the Sorting Ceremony during his first year. 

“Kim Myungsoo,” Professor McGonagall calls off the scroll of parchment.

A boy standing towards the back of the cluster of first years starts to make his way towards the headmistress. 

After a second’s glance, Sungjong already doesn’t like him. 

The way Myungsoo carefully avoids bumping into anyone instead of nudging people out of his way. The way he stumbles up the stairs. The way he ducks his head in embarrassment as he takes a seat on the wooden stool. The way he’s basically the polar opposite of the cool and confident students sitting around Sungjong. 

Myungsoo’s weak. And Sungjong doesn’t like weak. 

The Sorting Hat is placed on Myungsoo’s head, making his already small presence seem even more minute as he glances up at the brown brim looming over his face.

The Sorting Hat comes to life. “Ah, what do we have here?” 

Myungsoo flinches slightly at the ominous voice. Sungjong rolls his eyes. 

“Yes, yes, I see. Muggle born and the first wizard in the family,” the Hat hums. “Your parents were hesitant about sending you to Hogwarts, too, hmm? But you insisted, fought them even. Now you have a lot to prove.” 

That catches Sungjong’s attention. Maybe this kid isn’t so soft after all.

“You have nerve, but are not very daring.” The Sorting Hat nods to itself. “I see a lot of wit and a knack for knowledge, so maybe Ravenclaw.” 

Murmurs ring from the right side of the hall as students clad in blue and silver ties anticipate adding another new member to their house. 

“But the intelligence you have is not natural. You’re a hard worker, compassionate and loyal too.” 

The whole Hufflepuff table sits up straight and watches silently with anticipation. 

“Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff? Ravenclaw … or Hufflepuff,” the Sorting Hat muses before glancing down at Myungsoo, “What do you think?” 

At that moment, the whole Hall erupts into a buzz of whispers and hushed voices. Students hide their mouths behind their hands as they speak into each other’s ears, eyes on the boy sitting at the head of the Hall. 

Sungjong glances around at his new housemates, confused. He manages to pick up a bit of their conversations.

“Is the Sorting Hat really letting him choose his house?” 

“I guess so. But you never know with that thing.” 

“Why is this such a big deal?” Sungjong asks the older years.

“Because the last time someone got to choose their house was, like, 20 years ago,” one of the explains. “And I’m sure you know who that is.” 

Sungjong rolls his eye at his housemate’s failure of an attempt to be ominous and cryptic and turns back towards the front.

Myungsoo is glancing around the sea of students in front of him. And judging by the way he is gnawing on his bottom lip and twisting his hands in his lap, he probably doesn’t like the attention he’s receiving. Sungjong almost feels sorry for him. Almost.

But Myungsoo’s darting eyes suddenly stop, blinking at something (or someone) for a few moments before mumbling something Sungjong can’t hear or make out. 

“I see, I see.” The Sorting Hat’s voice quiets the room in an instant. “Are you sure?”

Myungsoo nods.

The folds and creases in the magical hat form a smirk. “Well, then it must be …”

A tense pause. A moment of pure silence before --

“HUFFLEPUFF!” 

The Hufflepuff table explodes into cheers and hoots and hollers. Myungsoo’s shoulders relax with relief and he hops off the stool, running over to join his new housemates. The members welcome him to their house, clapping him on his back and patting his shoulders with warm grins, as he takes a seat. (One Hufflepuff, a rather small one, Sungjong observes, jumps up and engulfs Myungsoo a hug so tight, he thinks the boy might just snap in half.) 

But even from his seat at the Gryffindor table, Sungjong can clearly see Myungsoo’s blinding smile among the myriad of other emotions painted across the other boy’s face. The excitement, the sincerity, the happiness. Myungsoo’s emotions are genuine. Myungsoo is genuine. And Sungjong appreciates that. 

But he still doesn’t like him.
  -- -- -- --

The first time Sungjong hears his voice is a few weeks later. 

He’s walking down the Transfiguration corridor on his way to lunch. He scratches the back of his head in frustration, still clearly not over the fact that he wasn’t able to turn his match into a needle. Why are transformation spells so hard? Why did he even have to take Transfiguration in the first place? The only useful spells that he’s learned so far were in Herbology. Sungjong likes Herbology. 

As he rounds the corner, he stops short when he notices three older years crowding around a boy who looks quite familiar. Normally, he would keep his head down and continue walking. Everyone should be able to handle their own fights. But this time, he hesitates. No, it’s not because of the barely audible “Please give it back,” from Myungsoo or the way that Myungsoo’s voice cracks slightly is higher than he expected or a sudden change of heart towards the Hufflepuff (Sungjong still doesn’t really like the kid for some reason). 

It’s because Sungjong spots one of the older boys wearing a scarlet and gold tie. 

One of Slytherins, the shorter of the two, gauffs a laugh. “What did you say?” 

Myungsoo swallows and tries to square his shoulders in an attempt to seem intimidating (he fails). “I said, give it back.” 

“What? Ordering fifth years around? When you’re a little first year?” The other Slytherin mocks as he twirls a light brown wand, one Sungjong assumes to be Myungsoo’s, around his fingers. “You think you’re special just because the Sorting Hat let you pick your house?” 

“N-No, I --” Myungsoo flinches, his words getting cut off as he receivings degrading taps on the top of his head with the hilt of his wand. 

Sungjong tightens his grip on his textbook as he watches Myungsoo attempt to grab his wand. But the Slytherin pulls it out of reach every time, the older boys laughing like all of this is some sort of joke, like they don’t see the tears forming in Myungsoo’s eyes or the frustration on his face. 

Do something. Sungjong stares at Myungsoo as the other first year stares at the ground.Punch him, kick him, bite him, do something. 

“And out of all the houses you picked the lamest one.” The older Gryffindor scoffs. “What a waste of an opportunity, stupid Mudblood.”

And that’s when something in Sungjong snaps. 

He throws his books to the side and charges toward the Gryffindor, punching the older boy square in the eye and falling to the ground. He ignores the shocked and confused looks he’s receiving (the taller Slytherin drops Myungsoo’s wand to the ground with a clatter) and kneels over the fallen boy, glaring straight into his housemate’s eyes. He clutches the older year’s shirt collar with tight fists. 

“Take it back,” Sungjong growls lowly. “Take it back or I swear I’ll --”

Before he can finish, he’s pulled from the ground and thrown against the nearest wall, a wand pointed at his throat. 

“You better watch what you say,” the taller Slytherin says lowly as the shorter one jabs the end of his wand further into the base of Sungjong’s throat, “or we’re going to have to teach you some manners, just like your Mudblood friend.”

“Stop calling me that!” Myungsoo yells and grabs his wand off of the ground. With a flick of his wrist, the taller Slytherin is quickly transformed into a tiny mouse with so much precision and accuracy Sungjong is honestly impressed. 

Maybe Myungsoo isn’t as weak as he originally thought (and maybe he would also be willing to tutor him in Transfiguration, too). 

The Hufflepuff points his wand at the shorter Slytherin who immediately holds his hands up in surrender. 

Seeing a moment of weakness, Sungjong draws his arm back and punches the only unharmed older year, making contact with the Slytherin’s cheek. He smirks, mildly shaking out his hand, and stares at the sprawled out older boy with satisfaction. 

But the satisfied smirk falls of his face when at the sound of a throat clearing at his side. 

Sungjong takes a slow, deep breath and folds his hands behind his back. (Myungsoo just bites his bottom lip and glances around warily.) He trains his face into one of innocence amidst the slight destruction surrounding him. 

“Hello, Professor McGonagall. How are you?” He gives the Headmaster a sweet smile. It has worked on all of his past teachers and professors, so it should work this time too, right?

It doesn’t. 
  -- -- -- --

When Sungjong walks out of McGonagall’s office, he almost doesn’t notice Myungsoo leaning against the wall opposite of the gargoyle and spiral staircase. He notes the way Myungsoo scuffs his foot against the dusty floor, his lips in a pout. It makes him seem younger, almost childlike. But in a good way. Kind of. Not really. But maybe a little. Whatever. 

Sungjong shakes his head and heads down the hall in the direction of Gryffindor Tower, not missing a step when a voice calls out for him to wait up.

“Hey, you’re Sungjong right?” Myungsoo asks, falling in step with him.

He nods and glances at the Hufflepuff for a brief moment, not even turning his head. “Yeah, and you’re Myungsoo.”

“Yeah. Right. Ummm.” Myungsoo appears to be struggling to connect his thoughts to words. 

Sungjong rolls his eyes, ready to tell this kid that “really, it’s okay, it’s not a big deal” and “punching out older years and getting detention for it is his speciality and that he actually finds joy in it so don’t have an aneurism about it”.

But Myungsoo speaks up before he gets the chance. 

“Thank you. For helping me back there and I’m really sorry you get detention because of me.”

Sungjong turns towards the boy and finds Myungsoo rubbing the back of his neck, head ducked towards the ground. 

Nervous habit, Sungjong notes. Cute. (Hey, it’s true. He honestly can’t be the only one who thinks so, right?) 

“It’s okay.” He shrugs casually, like he didn’t just receive his first detention at Hogwarts, like he isn’t going to have bruised knuckles for the next few days, like it’s no big deal. (It really isn’t though.) “On the plus side, McGonagall thinks I should try out for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. I don’t know if you noticed, but I tend to have a bit of a temper, so being a beater might be good for me.” He throws Myungsoo a haughty smirk. 

Sungjong doesn’t know what reaction he was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t anywhere near the explosion of laughter that erupts from Myungsoo. The Hufflepuff laughs as if he just made the joke of the century or something. But even though Myungsoo clutches his stomach and claps his hands like a seal and laughs harder than humanly possible, Sungjong is strangely okay with it. 

When he calms himself down, Myungsoo straightens out his robes and flattens out his hair. “Is there anything that I can do to make it up to you? I really do feel bad for getting you in trouble.” 

“Well, I do need some help with transforming a match into a needle …” Sungjong trails off, thinking about how easily Myungsoo transformed that Slytherin into a mouse. 

“I can teach you,” Myungsoo’s eyes are lit up like they were in the Great Hall after the Sorting Ceremony. 

“And I also have this Potions essay due tomorrow that I didn’t start yet …” 
He means it as a joke, but naive Myungsoo replies eagerly once again.

“I can help you with that too!” 

The Hufflepuff clears his throat awkwardly when Sungjong raises his eyebrows at him. 

“I, um, I mean, I really like Potions.” 

Myungsoo’s back to rubbing the back of his neck, shrugging sheepishly and Sungjong decides at that moment that he’s changed his mind. He likes Myungsoo. The boy’s innocent and sweet and has good intentions, kind of like a puppy. (Not to mention, he laughs at Sungjong’s jokes which scores him major points in the Gryffindor’s book.)

He throws an arm around the Hufflepuff’s shoulders. “I think this is going to be the start of a beautiful relationship, my friend.” 

Myungsoo pauses.

“Friend?”

The look on Myungsoo’s face, one of actual shock and awe, causes Sungjong to drop his hand back to his side, leaving him speechless for a moment. 

He’s made a lot of friends at Hogwarts already, making friends was always easy for him. It never occurred to him that it’s not always easy for others, especially someone quiet like Myungsoo. 

“Well, yeah.” Sungjong smiles. “I mean, I punched a fifth year in the nose for you, you turned a guy into a mouse for me.”

“I was actually a gerbil,” Myungsoo corrects with a small laugh. 

Sungjong waves a hand. “Nuance. But I think that constitutes us as friends, don’t you think?”

“I guess so?” He’s not sure if it’s intentional, but Myungsoo’s response comes out as a question more than anything. 

Sungjong nods once, ending the discussion of the status of their friendship. “So how are we going to get revenge on those jerks?” 

“Revenge?” Myungsoo asks, confused. “But ... didn’t you already punched him? And I turned that guy into a gerbil?”

“Oh, Myungsoo, Myungsoo, Myungsoo.” Sungjong chuckles and slings his arm back around the other boy’s shoulders. “It’s a good thing we’re friends because I have a lot to teach you.”