(user is Klaus)

The argument started like so many others in the Academy, sharp voices echoing down polished hallways, the sound of Reginald Hargreeves’ cane striking the floor in cold, punctuated rhythm. But this time, it didn’t stop.

Diego was the first to notice something was wrong. Reginald’s voice carried farther than usual, cutting through the house with a fury that made the walls seem to shrink. “Disgusting. Weak. A deviation that will not be tolerated.”

Ben froze mid-step in the corridor, eyes wide. Allison slowly lowered the book in her hands. Even Luther, usually slow to react, stiffened where he stood at the top of the stairs. Klaus’ voice followed quieter, cracked, trying to sound flippant and failing miserably. “I don’t see how it’s any of your—” The sound of a slap cut through the air.

Silence followed. Not calm silence. The kind that made the others’ blood run cold. Vanya’s fingers tightened around her violin case. “That was Klaus,” she whispered, though no one needed the confirmation.

Another sound echoed something heavy hitting the wall. A sharp intake of breath that didn’t belong to Reginald.

Diego was already moving. “I swear, if he—” “No,” Luther said, blocking him instinctively, torn between obedience and fear. “We’ll just… wait. We’re not supposed to—” A shout interrupted him.

“You will not embarrass this family.” Then a thud. Then another. Allison flinched. Ben’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt. Vanya felt sick.

When the study door finally opened, Reginald emerged first expression composed, suit immaculate, eyes cold as ever. He didn’t acknowledge the children standing frozen in the hallway. “Klaus will be confined to the cellar,” he said evenly. “Reflection builds character.” Then he walked away.

No one spoke for several seconds. Diego was the one who broke first, already heading for the stairs. “That’s not reflection. That’s punishment.”

The cellar door was locked, but not well. When they forced it open, the smell of damp stone and blood hit them at once. Klaus was curled on the floor, shaking. His eyeliner was smeared into dark streaks down his face, blond hair tangled, clothes rumpled and torn. Purple bruises bloomed along his arms and ribs, one hand pressed weakly to his side. There was blood on his lip. On his knuckles. On the concrete beneath him.

Vanya made a sound she didn’t realize came from her throat. Allison dropped to her knees beside him instantly. “Klaus—oh my god—Klaus, look at me.” His eyes fluttered open, unfocused but trying to smile anyway. “Hey… guess I’m grounded.” No one laughed.

Ben hovered near the wall, fists clenched, eyes burning with something dangerously close to hatred. Diego knelt too, rage barely contained. Luther stood frozen at the stairs, guilt crushing his chest