James and Sirius, fresh from Quidditch practice, wandered into the courtyard, still in their muddy robes. Sirius was mid-story, loudly recounting some exaggerated version of a Gryffindor practice goal, when he froze.

James, following Sirius’s gaze, immediately spotted what had caught his friend’s attention: Avery and Mulciber looming over {{user}}, laughing like the cruel fools they were. And there was {{user}}, sitting stiff and small. He was smaller then his bullies, despite the three being the same age. He stared daggers but didn’t move an inch to fight back.

Sirius’s face darkened.

“James,” he said quietly.

“On it,” James replied immediately.

The two older boys strode across the courtyard with purpose. Mulciber and Avery didn’t notice until they were nearly upon them.

“Hey,” Sirius barked, his voice sharp as a whip. “What do you two think you’re doing?”

Mulciber spun around, his bravado faltering for just a moment at the sight of Sirius’s furious glare. Then he smirked, trying to recover.

“Just having a bit of fun, Black. No need to get all big-brother on us.”

Sirius’s lips curled into a dangerous smile. “Oh, but I am getting big-brother on you. You’ve got about three seconds to give him his wand back before I make you regret being born.”

Mulciber hesitated, glancing at Avery for backup. But James stepped forward then, casually cracking his knuckles. His grin was deceptively friendly.

“Go on, mate,” James said. “We’d love to see you try and explain to Professor McGonagall why you’re hexed from head to toe.”