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After dinner, the two exchange students followed Erwan Shafiq, their 6th-year prefect, all the way to the dungeons. Miles followed at a more sedated pace, content to let himself be slowed down by his group. The younger years were diligently walking just behind the two new Slytherins, excitedly whispering about the boys in question.
Once inside the common room, Shafiq led the new Slytherins to their dorms. He enjoined them to come back to the common when they would be done, and let them unpack their stuff.
When he went back downstairs – later than Miles expected- Erwan made a beeline for Miles and his friends.
“I don’t know what in Merlin’s name happened in that school of theirs, but those kids are traumatised,” he let out as soon as he got close to him.
Miles caught Marcus’ frown but ignored it for the time being and leaned forward instead. He wasn’t one to gossip (who was he kidding? He loved gossip), but everyone was curious about the exchange students, especially considering the place they came from.
“How so?”
Shafiq pursed his lips, glancing around to make sure no one else was eavesdropping on them. Unlike Miles, he wasn’t usually one to gossip, so his talking must be more out of need and concern than just a thirst for gossip.
“They looked reluctant when I informed them that the dorms were divided by year and that they wouldn’t bunk together.”
Graham raised a brow.
“Really, Erwan? If they’re shagging it’s not surp-”
“It’s not that,” the prefect hissed quietly, interrupting both Graham and Adrian, the latter having opened his mouth to scold his fellow Chaser.
“Also, they asked about… I’m not sure. They called it ‘behavioural limitation gear’.”
Shafiq hurriedly continued when he saw more than one frown.
“When I asked about it… they made it sound like they are usually restrained to bed? With… I don’t know. Some kind of sleep restraints?”
He sounded hesitant and horrified, and honestly, Miles couldn’t blame him. He grabbed Miles when he felt him trip and stopped him before he could faceplant.
Seeing the look on their faces, Shafiq shrugged, but the movement required energy he didn’t seem to possess.
“Don’t ask me. They seemed both apprehensive and relieved when I told them we didn’t have that stuff here.”
Well, it seemed that, for once, the Daily Prophet hadn’t lied when it had reported that the school exercised a ‘long-term conditioning to accept abuse’. That certainly sounded like abuse, if you asked him.
(Miles had no idea that from this day on, he would note worrying patterns when it comes to their new Housemates.)
He knew his face was making weird expressions, but he couldn’t help it. It seems like his friends were in the same boat because they couldn’t keep the disturbed look from their faces. Miles couldn’t imagine sleeping while restrained, and he couldn’t imagine just being okay with being restrained.
“Listen, I know this is not how we normally do this, but I put Potter and Gauthier in the same dorm, with the 5th years.”
Cassius raised a disbelieving brow.
“Why would you do that?”
Shafiq sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Miles noted the exhaustion on his face and felt momentarily bad for him.
“Look, none of us was briefed on how to deal with traumatised, most certainly abused children. I know we deal with our fair share of abused kids in this house, but this feels… different.”
Because those kids may not have been abused by their families (as far as they knew – and… well, that is to say they had no idea), but they had been systematically hurt by their teachers. Maybe not all of them, but that didn’t excuse anything.
“I’ve been told by Madam Pomfrey to avoid crossing boundaries and to make the new students feel as comfortable and welcome as possible. So, yes, I put them in the same dorm. They were really relieved when I told them that. Besides, you’ve heard them; Potter is going to have some classes with the older years.”
True. Both Gauthier and Potter would take classes with the years above them. They were even done with some subjects if he had heard correctly. At least, Potter wouldn’t have to deal with Snape. Miles envied him this. He would love nothing more than to drop Potions, but he didn’t. He had no idea what he wanted to do later, and you never know. He might wake up one day and suddenly know what Path he wanted to follow. He didn’t want to realise that he should have kept studying Potions, because that would mean having to retake the subject after graduating.
“Anything else we should take note of?” Adrian questioned.
Erwan grimaced, and Miles had to prepare himself.
“They have marks on their wrists. Restraints marks.”
Restraint marks…? Why hadn’t they faded? Surely, with the Academy under investigation, the suspected teachers hadn’t been allowed to stay inside the school, right? Surely, they weren’t allowed near the children they were suspected of abusing?
And if the marks weren’t that recent, then why hadn’t they faded? Were those marks related to the sleep restraints, or were their origins completely unrelated?
“I suggest you keep Malfoy and the most excitable ones away from them. I almost lost an eye to Gauthier because I startled him.”
H – Huh?
Miles wouldn’t be so calm if that had happened to him, and he knew the guy was serious. Shafiq wasn’t the kind of person to exaggerate. If Shafiq said that he nearly lost an eye to Gauthier because he surprised him, then that was the truth.
“Also, Potter got real quiet.”
Oh, because there was a time Potter talked more? Miles didn’t mean that in a mean way, but the kid had barely said anything during dinner. He was polite, but saying that he got ‘real quiet’ didn’t mean much when he didn’t really talk to begin with.
“Gauthier mentioned that Potter tends to go non-verbal when tired or overwhelmed.”
No surprise there.
“Well,” Lucian sighed. “I guess we can only hope for the best.”
Right. Miles gave it a night before someone (probably Malfoy) said something or did something stupid. They couldn’t eternally keep the idiots at bay.
Miles hoped it wouldn’t turn out too badly anyway. It was probably hopeless. Potter and Gauthier might be traumatised and asocial (the jury is still out there), but they had been trained, and trained well. It was obvious in the way they moved.
“Please, keep an eye on them if you can.”
Shafiq may have been good at keeping composure, but he couldn’t keep the concern out of his voice. He wasn’t the type to worry over strangers, but it seemed that even this Lozac case concerned him. Then again…
.
After they settled into their respective dorms, the two students went back into the common room with their dormmates. Miles tried his best, but he couldn’t stop staring. The thing was, no one had known where the Boy-Who-Lived had disappeared to when they finally realised that he wasn’t where he had been left. See, the Headmaster, in his infinite wisdom, decided that the best choice of guardians for the baby Saviour was to turn him to the only family he had left; his Muggle relatives on his mother’s side. Listen, Miles didn’t know much because everyone who had worked on the Boy-Who-Lived case had remained annoyingly tight-lipped when it came to the press, but there had been hints at the boy’s less-than-ideal homelife before his disappearance. So, no, Miles wasn’t impressed with Dumbledore’s decision. Sure, the only hints referring to that were that his relatives never reported him missing, but that said everything, right? What kind of family doesn’t report a missing child?
Dumbledore didn’t even realise that something was wrong until the school didn’t receive a reply to their letters. Even then, he apparently didn’t think much of it, because he apparently sent the groundskeeper to investigate instead of going himself. That was the start of everything unravelling, and the start of the countdown when it comes to Wizarding Britain finding out that they couldn’t get a location on their Boy-Who-Lived. No matter how many people worked on the case, no one ever found out what had happened to the kid. Or if they did, nothing was leaked to the press.
To find out that the boy had been alive all this time was a relief. To find out that all this time he had been at Lozac? Less of a relief, but then again, Hogwarts hadn’t been a good example of a ‘fine school of magic’ lately. While it may have been for the best that the kid didn’t go to Hogwarts, Miles didn’t envy him because Lozac sounded like a nightmare. It sure gave results when it came to the kids’ school performance, but that it come from damaging the children’s psyche and well-being? Not good. Not to mention that it also damaged any relationship those kids would have with any and all adults from now on. Miles didn’t know how they could even trust the Lozac teacher accompanying them. He didn’t think he’d be able to trust someone working for the same Institution that had continually abused them.
If anything, he was certain to keep an annoyingly close eye on that man. Even if his name had been cleared by the Wizengamot and the ICW. You never know.
The Slytherin turned around to glance at the pair of newcomers who were frantically whispering about something.
“[…] like a pack of wolves,” he heard Potter whisper to his friend.
Apparently, Gauthier, Max, he had said to call him, was trying to encourage his friend to talk to his yearmates. By yearmates, Miles meant his actual yearmates, the ones he would be with most of the time, his fellow 4th-year Slytherins.
Miles stifled a chuckle. That comparison wasn’t far off. Greengrass and her entourage – consisting of Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Lily Moon and Tracey Davis- were gathered on the far right of the common room, discussing heatedly, probably about the exchange students, judging by their frequent glances. No surprise there; most Slytherins were doing the same thing. Malfoy and his clique were also discussing the same topic from the other side of the room, while Millicent Bulstrode was conversing with some older years.
Shafiq, sitting next to him on one of the couches, kept a close eye on the new students. Erwan wouldn’t say anything out loud, but he was glad they had made those inquiries to him instead of anyone else. Less charitable people (and he wasn’t charitable to begin with, but he wasn’t completely heartless either) would have used their trauma and conditioning to play a mean prank on them. He hadn’t known what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t for them to ask him about those Behavioural Limitation Gear (: sleeping restraints). Erwan still felt a bit sick just thinking about it. They acted so normal about it, as if it was just the way of life. Erwan could not imagine being restrained during his sleep.
Potter, Erwan noted, was still wearing his strange gloves. Could they even be considered gloves? Erwan had never seen anything like that, and he wondered what they used. They only protected his fingertips.
The prefect observed them from the corner of his eye. They weren’t completely tense, but they were skittish, looking around with cautiousness bordering on suspicion. They didn’t naively trust their new surroundings, and Erwan couldn't begrudge them for that. It would have been stupid, even without their history.
From the other side of the room, he saw a couple of younger snakes shift. They obviously wanted to start questioning the exchange students, but the older ones were smarter. The newcomers were probably overwhelmed. They likely wouldn’t get anything from badgering them so early on. They would have time to get to know their new Housemates later on, surely. After all, they would be here for the whole year.
Thankfully, it only took one movement from Flint to stop even Malfoy from making a fool of himself. Erwan would like to think Malfoy was smart enough not to act as rashly as a Gryffindor, but the kid had proved to him time and time again that he didn’t have what it takes to take on a leading role in the Court. He would be part of the Court when the time came, of course, he would, but Erwan would rather bet on Nott, Greengrass or even Zabini to take on the leadership. Maybe even Flora Carrow. She had a knack for House politics. They were well-organised enough. The Bulstrode girl was very good at information gathering. She tended to blend in; nobody paid attention to her when she didn’t want to. She rarely wanted to. Erwan wouldn’t be surprised if she even had dirt on her fellow Slytherins. Zabini was a smooth talker, a charmer, good at making alliances. He was even on good enough terms with the Weasley twins, from what he had heard.
Each individual in their year brought a little something to their group. It was just a shame the group in question was so fractured.
When it was time to go to bed, Miles excused himself and headed to his dorm. He entered the room without knocking (that would have been weird) and almost walked back out when he caught sight of Potter and Gauthier’s shirtless figures. Now, nothing untoward was happening, but Miles… Miles froze at the sight of them. It wasn’t the marks that caught his attention first. Well, they did; he couldn’t not have noticed them, but he didn’t immediately put his attention on them. The first thing he really, consciously noticed was the scars. He saw the scars first because both boys were facing him. They didn’t try to hide from him, even when they noticed his straying gaze.
A squeak escaped him, and he closed his eyes, feeling embarrassed for such a childish reaction.
“Oh, sorry. We’re almost done,” Potter said.
What were they almost done with? He wondered. Unlike Miles, the Boy-Who-Lived didn’t sound embarrassed.
Miles frowned and cautiously opened one eye, then the other. Both boys were still shirtless, but now, Miles took note of the band-aid Gauthier… Max was holding. Oh. They were bandaging each other.
Miles tried not to stare at the recent wounds they had acquired. Whether they came from harsh training or punishment, Miles had no idea, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
The Keeper caught sight of odd… symbols, glyphs on both boys’ torsos, but it wasn’t until they turned around – or at least until Potter turned around- that he realised what he was looking at.
The boys were covered in Runes. Glowing runes that seemed almost engraved in the skin - and perhaps they were, for all he knew. Miles had no idea what those Runes meant, although he recognised a few for protection and one for resilience.
Bloody hell. Were all those kids the same, or was it just those two? What the fuck happened to those kids in that school?
“Do you, err… need help?”
He tried not to feel offended by the suspicion leaking from them. He would be too if he were in their shoes.
“It’s fine. We’re nearly done,” Potter (no wait, he said to call him by his first name too, didn’t he?) said.
“Are you going to bed?” Max added after a second of awkward silence.
Miles blinked.
“Err, not yet. I just wanted to take a shower… Are you?”
“Yes. We’ll take a shower after you and go to bed. It’s been a long day.”
It was – Miles glanced at his pocket watch, barely 10 p.m. Well, to each their own, he supposed as he made his way to the bathroom attached to their dorms. Besides, it certainly had been a long day for them. Terence and Cassius wouldn’t come until 11 p.m or later, but they were quiet and wouldn’t risk waking them up.
When he was done, he bid his new roommates a good night and went back downstairs to work on a Potion Essays he had been avoiding for a while. He knew he should have done it before, but he had procrastinated, and here he was.
He did his best not to think about the scars, the wounds, or the glowing glyphs ornamenting their torso and backs. It wasn’t his business. It was not. Miles refused to make an ass of himself.
As soon as Bletchley left the room, the boys didn’t waste time. They climbed into one of the two beds belonging to them and closed the curtains around it. That done, Max fetched some sort of journal from his satchel bag, enlarged it a bit, and opened it. He put it down between Harry and himself, and tapped it three times, murmuring familiar names under his breath.
The air shimmered, and before long, small frames appeared in the air between them. Their fellow Lozac students were staring back at them.
“Thank fuck, you guys called,” Sara started as soon as the journals’ connection was established. “Those kids are so damn loud.”
A bit hypocritical considerable how loud and temperamental she was, but Max understood. He was considered one of the most social students among their group, yet even he was exhausted by the constant surroundings and conversation around them, the noise, everything. There weren’t nearly as many students in Lozac Academy. Hogwarts welcomed around a thousand kids, whereas Lozac had only a few hundred students. Maybe 400, if even that.
“I like my space,” Linda said. “It’s very cosy. I think you’d like it a lot here, Harry.”
Harry looked up. It’s true that he tended to love cosy spaces. On a good day, he’d like nothing more than to bury himself in soft fabrics, with a good book and a cup of tea (or some other drinks – he wasn’t picky). They didn’t usually get to relax a lot, but when they could, Harry loved to find a quiet, comfy corner and get lost in a good story.
“Sounds good,” he said with a slight grin.
He cleared his throat, itchy from lack of use. He wasn’t the most talkative person around, so his voice throat tended to betray him in times like that, when he had to speak up. A hand patted his knee, and when he looked up, Max was staring at him in concern.
Flushing slightly, Harry ducked his head with a sheepish grin, showing that it was nothing to worry about.
“Did anyone get news from those who stayed?” he asked softly.
And by ‘anyone’, he meant ‘everyone’. Just because there was an investigation and some teachers were arrested didn’t mean that everything was magically better. For instance, Professor Belanger, their Senior School Administrator, was still a free man. There was no telling whether or not he would be arrested, but Harry allowed himself a moment to pray he would. That man was vile and twisted.
“I got a little bird from Mavie,” Linda said, showing a somewhat large origami bird. “I’m surprised it made it to Britain. It had to fly across a storm in the Atlantic. It was a little wet, but Mavie’s charm held the little thing together.”
Mavie was a year older than Harry, but they were close friends. As close friends as you can get in a school like Lozac. Fortunately for Harry, he got really good friends. When things get particularly tough and rough, he could always lean on them (and vice versa).
“They’re doing okay – somewhat. Ross was arrested just after we left for Hogwarts,” she read.
Good. Ross wasn’t as bad as Belanger, but he was a sadist. Harry had once believed that the man did what he did to help them become better. That mindset had changed when Max and the others had finally managed to break through his defences and convince him that there was something really off about their school’s teachings.
“The MACUSA got Goodwin this afternoon.”
Harry breathed through his nose. One could say that Miss Goodwin was unfortunate to carry this name. She wasn’t good, beloved or a protector. If anything, she was a persecutor.
She was the headmaster’s assistant.
She was a bitch.
Harry wouldn’t cry if she were never let go by the MACUSA.
“What about Belanger? Did they get him?”
Judging by the others’ expressions, that was a flat ‘no’. Still, he didn’t lose that thread of hope until Linda gave him a pitying look.
“Not yet.”
Not yet. He wouldn’t face justice yet. Maybe he never would. If there was anyone in this school that Harry was terrified of – although every emotion he felt was either muted or multiplied depending on the day- it was Belanger. The others… Well, they had been conditioned to accept it, Martha, one of the Aurors on the case, had said, to accept that they needed their lessons to get stronger, to survive and win. As bad as it might sound, they had grown stronger, but Belanger? Belanger was nothing like that. Harry hadn’t even known who he was, at first. He would often see him in the school library. It was Mr Belanger who had come to him, and Harry, naive as he was in his first year, had smiled shyly and learned to trust him. A terrible mistake.
It took him a couple of months to find out that Belanger was a former History of Magic teacher, who had been promoted as their School administrator a few years before Harry entered Lozac.
One of the first things you learn at Lozac - whether you’re ready to admit it or not- is never to trust the teachers or any adults working here. Of course, not everyone on the staff was as bad as the ones listed earlier, but… Well, no one was really innocent. Even Zoran, their dorm dad, wasn’t completely innocent. He was a Lozac alumnus, after all. He, too, had grown in that environment. Harry had seen him flinch the one time Zoran argued against Ross. He, too, had faced violence when he was a student here. He never told anyone what happened in that school. Not until the MACUSA opened a case against Lozac. Not until the Aurors proved that they were serious about investigating the Academy.
Some would say that his silence was complicity. Harry… wasn’t quite sure what he thought of Zoran and others’ continued silence, but he thought it might have been survival instincts. He was complicit by omission, but he was also considered a victim.
That was one of the school’s goals, after all. They trained them to become elite fighters, winners, survivors. They didn’t accept mediocrity. If someone – student or other- wasn’t good enough, they taught them until exhaustion, until they became good enough. No, better than good enough. They trained them until they became the best.
“Do you think they’ll get him?” Sara questioned.
“I hope so,” Lochris replied, from his small frame at the bottom of the larger screen-like space floating over the journal.
Harry hummed but didn’t reply. It was unnecessary; they already knew of his troubles with the older man.
Professor Belanger (as he liked to be called, even though he rarely ever taught now) was in his fifties, and usually dressed like your typical English butler. He had seemed… nicer than most teachers around here, and Harry, naively, had fallen into his trap. It didn’t take long to realise that Belanger wasn’t as kind as he let on, but by then, the trap had already closed around him, just like it had for others before him.
The long-haired boy felt Max nod in his back, and relaxed slightly. He wasn’t big on physical touch from people he didn’t know, but he knew Max. Max was the person he trusted the most, and the reverse was also true.
Pietro, who had been quiet up until now, tilted his head to the side;
“Do you think this whole investigation will… help?”
The atmosphere darkened slightly. It was the question they all wondered without ever wanting to say out loud. Would this help? Logically, they knew that it should. The magical world had methods of extracting the truth that no-majs simply didn’t have. They knew the investigation would get things done, but… Would that change anything? And what would happen to them? They’d been raised to become fighters, warriors. They’d gone through gruesome training to achieve the best result possible.
If the investigation led to arrests and changes… would all of that training be for nothing? Would they be told to ‘just be children’ and let the grown-ups do their thing?
Long ago, Harry might have cried tears of relief, knowing that the truth about their school would become known and they might be ‘saved’, but that was a long time ago. He had changed. They all had. He knew his friends felt the same way. They had worked too hard to watch their effort turn into ashes.
They might need some saving, but they didn’t want to be saved. Not anymore.
Nobody answered Pierrot’s question. Nobody knew how to.