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"What are you going to do, Mulciber? Hex us? Mess with our minds like your daddy did?"
"They probably all teach their kids curses. Bet mummy's a Death Eater too."
"Maybe he'll wind up in Azkaban with daddy. We can hope."
Two years into his Hogwarts education and the bullying hadn't stopped. Not a bit. No matter how much he fights back, bullies back, snaps back. There's always somebody new to it, thinking they can try their luck with him. He doesn't think they even know the difference between him and his brother. Two years doesn't matter to them. Mulcibers are the same, aren't they?
Worse, they're in Hufflepuff. Who ever heard of a Death Eater in Hufflepuff?
Sullivan knows there have been a few. He might not be a Death Eater, but as far as the rest of his classmates care, the kids of Death Eaters are just as bad. In his year, there are three Hufflepuffs - an Avery (except nobody knows about a Death Eater called Avery, really), a Dolohova (his cousin and, even according to himself, probably just as bad as Antonin Dolohov), and a Mulciber (himself) - and a Slytherin. Laramie Lestrange isn't much of a threat to them though, no matter what atrocities his dad committed with his aunt and uncle. And nobody wants to pick on Sidra Dolohova, not really, because she sends everybody who tries to the hospital wing. Josie's her best friend too, so Avery's safe.
Which leaves him.
And as much as his uncle reminds him to rise above them, to ignore them, he never forgets each time some gang corners him in a courtyard. How many times he's gone to his older sister to help him heal... until he learned to do it himself. If he'd known it would be this bad, he would have asked his aunt to home-school him. But it's too late now. His third year's started, and his little brother just got Sorted. Hufflepuff, like him.
He's proud and scared at the same time.
The first time Evander tells him he's having a hard time, he tries to give advice. Parroting advice from their uncle. But the second time, when he says about the Weasley twins pulling a prank on him, Sullivan gets angry.
Percy's bad enough - pompous and nosy, always sticking into business that isn't his. They share so many lessons and he's sick of him. Having two of those blood-traitors in his year would be torture. So he decides he's got to help Evander out. Even the playing field, and make sure they don't think any Mulciber can be pushed around.
His older cousins have always looked out for him. Verena has too. And he isn't going to let anybody mess his brother about. Not now, not ever.
"Hey, Weasley!" he calls down the corridor. One of them's on their own. Lucky chance, really. He'd been prepared to body-bind one, not because he can't take care of two first-years on his own, but to make it fair. Eye for an eye.
The ginger kid turns around, perplexed. "Yeah?"
"Need a word. Head back in," he tells him.
Clearly reluctant, Weasley hesitates, but he doesn't have much choice. Sullivan grabs his arm and shoves him back into the bathroom. It's not an ideal place, but they'd humiliated his brother, hadn't they? He has to repay that.
"What's this about?" Weasley asks.
He lets go of him and locks the bathroom door. Once, his uncle told him about how they used to deal with mudbloods when he was at school. The three of them - Lucius, Maksim, Rabastan - would grab whoever they wanted and get them inside a room, lock the door, and do whatever they liked until it was time for class or dinner. Either the mudblood wouldn't speak or, later, they'd fix their memories.
"Keeping them alive and well meant we'd get to play for longer."
They'd got the idea from their dads too. Abraxas, Antonin, and Marquise had all done the same. Except they'd been following the directions of somebody else. Somebody who could keep them out of trouble even if they slipped up. But Sullivan doesn't have the Dark Lord to keep him safe. If anything, His lack of presence just exacerbates the treatment he and his relatives receive.
"You know Evander Mulciber, yeah?" He gets a nod in response. "Do you think it's smart, trying to make out a fool out of him? Bullying him?"
Weasley blinks. "Bullying him? He was bullying us."
If that's true, then he's only proud of his brother. "You pulled some stupid practical joke on him, didn't you?"
The blood-traitor's defensive. "Yeah, and?"
He pulls out his wand, pointing it at the boy's chest. "So you think you're smart, picking on him."
"He deserved it. Calling people names. He--"
"I don't give a shit, blood-traitor," Sullivan snaps. "You want to pick on Evander, you get me. Understood?"
"My name's George."
"Blood-traitors don't deserve names."
Weasley shakes his head, looking at him incredulously. "Do you even hear yourself?"
It sounds so much like Percy it makes him want to outright punch the kid. Instead, he casts the stinging spell. The bulbous red mark springs up immediately on Weasley's nose, swelling as the boy cries out and backs off from him.
"Understood?" he repeats.
Whimpering, Weasley clutches at his stung nose. "Sure - understood."
"No practical jokes. No laughs. No bullying. I can do a lot worse." To prove it, because the feeling of watching him snivel is electrifying, Sullivan hits him with a sneezing jinx. The combination elicits cries of pain with each sneezing fit. "Run along, blood-traitor." He flicks his wand, unlocking the door, and the boy immediately runs out. No doubt to cry to one of his brothers.
It'll be worth it, even if the Head Boy comes to find him. Next time he'll find a way to do as his uncle did. If he needs to.
"Mulciber's getting aggressive now."
"Did you hear what he did to George Weasley?"
"They're all the same, those kids. One of the Mulcibers'll be in Azkaban as soon as they graduate. I'd bet on it."