Black Eyes and Books

[Soren Sedridor]

Soren couldn't see through the tears welling up in his eyes, his vision reduced to a watery blur as he scrambled hurriedly through the fourth floor corridor, barely able to make out the doors he was passing. He knew his common room was nearby, but he couldn't bring himself to be around people, or have any more attention drawn to him than he'd already had. Usually, if he wasn't with the very few friends he had, the Hufflepuff avoided talking to people and kept to himself, afraid of being rejected or bullied like he had been in the years prior to attending Hogwarts. There was the odd teasing every now and again, from those people who realised he could barely speak, let alone perform spells properly. It was to be expected. But it had never been anything serious.

Until now. Soren had passed by a group of older students, his head down as it usually was, just trying to get from one place to the other. One of the boys stopped him and asked where he thought he was going. When Soren tried to stutter out a response, the boy and his friend thought he was trying to insult them. As he tried to explain himself, he'd only managed to infuriate them further. He could barely remember what had happened, but without warning, Soren had been grabbed by the shoulders and pulled into an empty classroom, one of them holding his arms back as the other layed into his stomach and face. He couldn't understand what he'd done wrong, he never had been able to. It wasn't the first time he'd been beaten up for stuttering, whether it be people thinking he was a freak or that he was mocking them. The beatings had always seemed to last a lifetime as well, he never got used to it.

Eventually, he'd been left alone with one final punch to the stomach that had dropped him in a sobbing heap on the floor. His mind pounded angrily against his skull, sending spikes of pain throughout his head. One eye was red and irritated from the tears, while the other darkened into a large circle of blue and black. Blood trickled from the right side of his nose where he'd taken most of the force; One of the boys had favoured his left hand, it seemed. The wind had been knocked out of him too, leaving him gasping for air, but as soon as he'd regained his breath and calmed his breathing down, the Hufflepuff had gotten back up to his feet and wiped away the scarlet liquid trickling down his face with the back of his sleeve. It hurt, everything hurt, but nothing was broken and he didn't want to be seen by people walking down to the Hospital Wing. The only real damage done to him was one that not even a potion could fix. Despite his speech impediment, he'd tried to communicate more in the last year than he ever had, with the help of Desideratus and Kris, but this had set him back. He didn't want to have to open his mouth again, try pathetically to stumble over letters. It never ended well for him.

Fearing students could burst into the empty classroom at any moment and with his attackers nowhere in sight, Soren had crept out of the room and hurried along the hallway, vision blurred by the tears constantly flooding his vision. He had to rely on his memory to figure out where he was going. He wanted to be alone, or as alone as he could be. He was thankful that the corridor was seemingly empty, with what little he could make out. The boy reached a door he was familiar with and pushed it open, lowering his head and dropping his eyes to the floor as he entered. A tear drop trickled down his chin and splashed silently against the toe of his shoes. He pressed on, walking deeper into the expansive room containing the school's library. It was perfect for him to hide away in, few people were around and it was a quiet place. He could be alone. Grabbing the largest tome he could find from a nearby shelf, Soren crept away into a dark corner and tried to hide his bruised face behind its leather binding. He struggled to bite back the sobs tearing at his throat, trying to escape him, and waited for the heavy throbbing in his head to subside. He just wanted it to be over.
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[James Adams]

James had seen the younger boy enter the library just ahead of him. He could see that the boy was badly hurt, and he wondered who could have done it. He knew that there were several older boys in the school who liked to bully children. But he hoped, although it was an unlikely hope, that the boy had merely fallen over or something.

But as a prefect, he was expected to overlook the well being of the pupils at Hogwarts, even if he was in a different house. After all, Hufflepuff was the friendliest house to Gryffindor, even if they were in opposition technically.

James pushed open the door and stepped inside. He loved working in the library, with the familiar musty smell of the scrolls and parchments, and he half smiled in appreciation. The collection of books never ceased to astound him, the library offering variety that never seemed to run out. Reminding himself that he was here with a purpose, he looked around for where he may find the boy. At this time in the day, where most people were in lessons, there were few tables occupied, and he quickly noticed the boy hiding behind a large leather book. From personal experience, he suspected the boy wanted to be left alone, but he also knew that, deep down, he would have wanted somebody to care for him. A maternal presence, even if his mother wasn't here in person.

James walked over to the boy and took the seat next to him. He'd taken down a Transfiguration book that he needed to read for his classes anyway, and flicked it to the correct section. He began to read, hoping that the boy would soon realise that he wasn't here to harm him any further. "Are you ok? What happened?" he asked the boy after a while.

 

[Soren Sedridor]

The tears flooding his vision did not seem to be at all close to ceasing any time soon. Soren couldn't understand how his eyes weren't drier than a desert by now. Each time he blinked the water away, he had only a brief moment of clarity before the blurriness washed over the world once more. He couldn't talk, he couldn't see. What was next? Would he somehow lose his hearing too? He wouldn't have been surprised with his poor luck. Nothing was going right today. He tried to distract himself, to block out the throbbing pain that had invaded taken hold of every inch of his body, but even when he had a spare second to make out the writings in the tome, all he could read were numbers and English words he hadn't even learned yet. His eyes found the top of the page. Arithmancy. He hadn't a single idea as to what it was. Mathematics? It was the only thing related to numbers he knew of. Whatever it contained, it wasn't helping his attempt at a distraction.

A figure in the corner of his eye approached him, and the Hufflepuff couldn't help but flinch involuntarily, not after what he'd just been through. Thankfully, it simply sat down by his side and did nothing more. His vision was clearing by now, his tear reservoir starting to empty. He could see, and spared a quick glance to his right to see who had joined him. It was an older boy, in Gryffindor colours. Soren let his shoulders relax, breathing an inaudible sigh of relief. Their house traits were one of the more positive ones. Despite initially wishing to be left alone, the boy's presence was a small comfort. Though they didn't know each other, he felt safe having someone at his side.

It wasn't long before their silence was broken, with the Gryffindor asking if he was alright. Soren slowly raised his tear-streaked face from the tome he held and gazed at the older boy, one eye stinging and red, the other black and aching. He must have looked awful. He didn't want to open his mouth, to try and respond. It was the last thing he ever wanted to do again. But there was concern in this strangers voice. He didn't think he'd want to hurt him, like the others had. The Hufflepuff swallowed, his throat feeling raw and obstructed from the sobs he'd forced back. "I, I-" He began, voice trembling with the repeated letter. He had a feeling that even without his severe impediment he'd have difficulty getting his words out. He couldn't describe what had happened, tell him how he felt. It wasn't fair. Nothing was fair. Instead, he shook his head to convey that no, he was definitely not okay, while the last few drops of tears fell from his chin and onto the pages of the book he held. He covered his face with his hands while his shoulders shook uncontrollably, the boy trying his best to suppress becoming a blubbering mess.
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[James Adams]

James highly doubted that the boy sitting beside him was actually reading at all, but he thought it would be nicer for him if he pretended that he was disturbing him from some work he had to do, so he tried to act as if he were. He hoped the boy would cotton on and play the other part so he didn't look like a fool. Not that the boy appeared to be doing much looking with all his tears. James let the boy have time to answer, not wanting to rush him on what was sure to be a delicate subject; he tried not to think of the boy as the delicate subject himself, but he kept finding himself drawn back to the one fact: this boy appeared to be vulnerable, weak, and needing protection. By now, he'd established that this was clearly the work of pupils at Hogwarts, rather than some kind of accident that had gone wrong. After all, rogue spells didn't punch people up - at least not the ones that he knew of.

As the boy shook his head to confirm that he wasn't alright, James felt his heart well up inside him and the state of him. Clearly he wasn't in any mood to talk right then, but he knew he had to press the student now, before he forgot - or tried to forget - who and what had happened. Understandably James thought, his words were stuttering, and he didn't make it past the first letter, but some kind of inner feeling made him realise that this might just be the kid he'd heard about: the rumours going around were that a young Hufflepuff had a speech impediment and could barely talk. He'd certainly heard Slytherins talking about him in not so kind ways, and he suspected that they may have been the cause of the present misfortune.

James put his arm around the boy's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him, hoping that he was doing alright. It was one thing pretending to be certain about what he was doing, quite another knowing. "Do you know who did this? Or why? As for your bruises, I think perhaps we should take you to the Hospital Wing. After that, I'm going to find your Head of House and tell her all that has happened. I'm not going to take no for answer, so don't bother. This needs to be sorted out now, rather than later. You just have to trust me." His manner might have appeared brusque, but he thought that this might knock the boy out of his pain a little, if only to beg with James not to.

Out of Character:

Sorry this took so long

 

[Soren Sedridor]

With his face buried into his hands, the arm around his shoulder had come as a completely sudden and unexpected surprise. The boy immediately froze at the touch, the shaking caused by long held back sobs ceasing, replaced by an involuntary flash of fear. His chest caught and he let in a sharp intake of breath, holding it in, until his reasoning finally caught up with his initial reflex. He wasn't in any danger, he knew that. Or at least he hoped he did. Yet his body was on the defensive, his instincts assuming the worst and reacting accordingly. But the Hufflepuff quickly saw the gesture for what it was. Comfort. It wasn't something he was too familiar with as he rarely received comfort from other people. Even Desideratus had yet to see him in such a state as he was now, and they'd been friends for a year. It made him feel safe. He let out the held breath, tensed body relaxing once more.

The Gryffindor prefect spoke to him, and Soren realised he still didn't know his name, but wasn't even able to ask. Instead he listened quietly, which was all he could do, and shook his head when asked if he knew who had harmed him. He didn't, and though he'd be able to easily recognise them if they passed by in the corridor, he didn't want to make matters worse by telling on them. Who knew what they'd do if he did. He shook his head once more at the mention of the Hospital Wing, as much as he wanted to be healed and have the pain and aching that coursed through his body stop, he wasn't ready to be walking around in public just yet.

The shaking became more vigorous as the Gryffindor continued, going on about how he'd tell the Head of House what had happened. No no no. That couldn't happen. He didn't want to cause any trouble. Finding the students responsible would be difficult enough without any names to go by. It was narrowed down to their appearance and houses. He knew they were older too, but not a definite year. There were hundreds of students to look through. Besides, what would happen? How could he prove it was them? Chances were they wouldn't get into trouble and would come after him again. He wanted to explain that, express his fears, but his tongue wouldn't let him. All he could manage was to stutter out a terrified "N-n-no." He looked up at the older boy, eyes fearful, mouth miming a silent please. He wished he had his bag with him, containing parchment and a quill, which was the way he communicated with Des a lot. But he'd left his writing equipment in his dorm, not expecting to use it. The boy ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, the dark brown strands already tousled from before. He didn't know how to tell him what he was afraid would happen, why he didn't want to go. They'll hurt me. He tried to say it, opening his mouth and repeating the th sound of the first word, but it was no use. His tongue was working against him more than usual.

No pictures necessary ​

 

[James Adams]

James felt the boy stiffen under his touch, and if it was even possible to do so, he felt his heart well up more for the boy. He'd clearly been through a lot that James knew nothing about, and this latest event was unlikely to have comforted him any. Over the couple of minutes that he'd been with the boy, he'd come to realise the similarities between the two of them. For one, the boy had obviously been through a lot of trauma in his life, like James, and was unwilling to speak about it to anyone else. From personal experience, he knew that talking would ultimately be the best course of action, but that would take time to heal. In the meantime, his reading in the library had taught him a nifty spell for healing small broken bones and other, similar injuries. So he pulled out his wand and pointed it at the boy, before realising that this was more likely to terrify the kid further than heal him. He quickly lowered his wand and started reassuring the boy, hoping he'd be able to stop the extra drama from increasing the boy's woes. "It's alright, I'm not going to hurt you, don't worry. I'm here to protect you, nothing's going to happen to you now. There's nothing to worry about, trust me." He hoped that he was soothing the boy, rather than terrorising him even further. He hoped his inexperience in helping others' in situations like this wasn't obvious. He hoped the boy would be ok. Hopes upon hopes. James had kept murmuring to the boy even through his thoughts, keeping up a reassuring tone. "I'm a Prefect, I'm going to help you. Nothing bad is going to happen to you now. James is here to protect you. Don't think about them. In the meantime, do you want those bruises healed? I can do that here if you want. We don't have to go to the Hospital Wing yet, you're safe here. James will tend to you here."

From the body actions of the boy, it was clear that talking about who had done it was painful to him, so James kept from touching on that subject again. There'd be plenty of time when the boy afterwards to gather names. For he was determined to get the names, whether the boy told him himself, or he found out. He'd ask around and see if anyone had seen other people around the same time. It was likely to be older Slytherins, so that narrowed down the suspects immediately. This boy was now under his care, and he was not going to stop protecting him now. He could guess that the boy feared the bullies, but a thought suddenly clicked in his mind: if the people were punished, they'd just go after the boy again. So he decided to go after the boys himself, not trusting the teachers to be able to see this and therefore not punish them. He couldn't risk it, he'd have to talk them out of hurting this boy. He hoped the boy would accept his offer of help so he could make the pain go away. Seeing him like this distressed him slightly, and ne squeezed the boy's shoulders slightly to reassure him that he was there, and wasn't going to leave him to the bullies.

 

[Soren Sedridor]

When the older boy who had only been trying to help so far withdrew his wand, Soren froze like a wild deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. His heart skipped a beat and he caught his breath, the air feeling like a solid rock in his throat. He stared at the length of wood, a simple object capable of so much more power than a punch could ever do, before logic finally kicked back into his system. He knew it was stupid of him to react so suddenly to a person who had so far only tried to care but he couldn't help his initial instincts. The boy had been stabbed in the back before, mislead by strangers who pretended to be his friend at his expense. But not everyone was like that, he had to remind himself. He had friends now. Desideratus was a good person and he was in Gryffindor so from what he knew they had to be okay. Though he couldn't judge an entire house based on one person, even if they all seemed to have such positive traits.

The Hufflepuff listened as the older boy reassured him and sucked in a deep breath, the impression of solid air lodged in his throat dissipating. His words calmed him down and he let his body relax once more. He tried to shift in his position to something more comfortable, and winced as the slight adjustment brought back more minor pangs of pain. He bit his lip and ignored it, instead looking back up at the Gryffindor, who explained that he was a prefect. That brought the youth even more relief. Surely he couldn't be a prefect if he were in any way a bad person. Soren felt safe, which was a rare occurrence since he started attending the school. He was never safe, but right now, he felt like there was a protective bubble cast around them. He nodded meekly at the offer to be healed from the boy, who he now knew to be called James. Everything ached and he just wanted it all to stop. He looked forward to finally crawling into bed and simply falling into a lengthy sleep but for now he was happy to just have the physical pain taken away, or at the very least reduced. It was better than having to struggle toward the hospital Wing looking like a battered mess in front of everyone else.
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[James Adams]

As the boy stiffened, James knew instantly that his assumption that the wand might not be good for him was correct. He desperately wanted to help the sorry boy, but trust was something that had to be built up over time, and he'd barely known the kid for half an hour, and he was already pointing wands at him. Great friend he was, James thought. Still, as the boy gradually relaxed and then moved, wincing, James knew he could heal a lot of the hurt. So when he was granted assent, James once more lifted his wand and pointed it at the most prominent bruise on his head. "Episkey! How does that feel now, eh?" Hoping it was good, James moved onto the other obvious hurts that his simple spell could cure, but soon there wasn't anything else obvious left to heal. "Have I missed anything? Or have I got everything I can? Is it feeling better now?" But his earlier thoughts that this might be the boy who couldn't speak came back once more now the more pressing issues seemed to have been dealt with. Getting up, James walked to the desk at the front of the library and asked if he could borrow some paper and a quill. Prepared once more, he returned to the boy, offering them gently to him. But James was thinking once more of how to get him back to his common room. "You're a Hufflepuff right? After this we can get you back safe to there, but I can't come inside with you. I'm so sorry, will that be ok or not? Or is there anyone I can fetch who might be able to help you? I can still fetch the teachers if you want?

Out of Character:

Somewhere between OSW short and normal length. Sorry

 

[Soren Sedridor]

Sedridor instinctively closed his eyes when James cast his spell, used to the many years of his father's use of langlock, or other student's trip jinxes in the halls. When the moment had passed and he opened his eyes however, he found he could see more clearly. The throbbing pain around his blackened eye was gone, as was the raw redness of the other, which before had its tear reservoir dried up. If he had had access to a mirror, he would have look perfectly fine, aside from the tear streaked skin. The dull ache surrounding his bloodied nose and lip had disappeared too, followed by the cuts and bruises on his arms and other visible places. When asked if anything had been missed, Soren stretched out his arms and torso, feeling for anything that still twinged with discomfort. He became very aware of bruising still present on his chest, but refrained from making any motion to it. He wasn't comfortable lifting up his shirt in the middle of the library.

The prefect got up without much of an explanation and walked across the room. A little confused, Soren remained where he was, curling up and resting his chin on his knees. He'd never been healed by anyone who wasn't a nurse, he realised. Maybe the boy was practicing to be a healer? The Hufflepuff thought about it, unaware that Episkey was a standard spell for the higher years. Soren considered becoming a Healer when he graduated. He wanted to help make other people better, though he could barely help himself. He hoped that things would be different by the time he hit seventeen. The sound of approaching footsteps drew the boys eyes back up from his knees, and his face lit up at the sight of a sheet of parchment and quill. He took each, already quickly scrawling down words.

'Thank you.'

Sedridor nodded his head as James asked if he were a Hufflepuff, but followed it with a fast shake when questioned about having teachers involved. 'I don't want any professors, I just want to forget it happened.' He scribbled on the pages for James to see, after crossing out a few Dutch words he kept accidentally slipping into. Even though he was feeling better, he still wanted to just go back to his bed and lay down for a while. 'I'll be okay on my own when I reach my common room, I just don't want anyone to know. Please.' He was happy to have James take him back to Hufflepuff House, as long as he wasn't going to tell any staff he'd been attacked.
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[James Adams]

It seemed to James that the simple spell had brought much needed relief to the boy, and he was happy that he had successfully mastered the spell. He'd had a year where he knew the theory of it, but he simply hadn't had anything to practice on to see if he could use it in the feal world. It turned out that he could. He still didn't know what he wanted to do after graduating, although he was seriously considering a job related in Quidditch. During these few moments though, he wondered whether working at St. Mungo's Hospital was for him, before dismissing it based on his exam performances in Potions the previous year in his exams. He assumed that most jobs there would require some sort of reasonable grade in that subject, but he had yet to research the job at all. Yet another task he had to do this year.

When the boy started using the paper, James realised that he had been absolutely correct. He took to writing like a duck to water, and James felt his heart well up at the two words written across the page. Thank you. He hadn't even done anything he thought was special, and yet the boy obviously appreciated it. He smiled warmly down at him, wanting to know more about him, but unwilling to probe into matters that didn't concern him. He was correct also in assuming that the boy didn't want teachers involved, but he still thought that the matter should be referred to them for the future, if not the present. But he respected his wishes and decided to keep his mouth shut, not wanting to antagonise the boy to do something stupid. He may have been magical, but suicide was still hard to stop, and he had no idea how stable the boy actually was already.

Looking around, he saw a couple of people eyeing the scene over their studies, and he suspected that the boy didn't want to be around the staring faces, although they were too far away to hear what had been said. Deciding that now was as good a time as any, he began to ask whether they should move out of the public areas and towards the Hufflepuff common room. But something made him prepend to his statement: a need to know what the boy was actually called. "So what can I call you then? Or would you rather I didn't know? Anyway, perhaps we should make a move, it's getting late and we don't exactly want to run into the library rush that's likely to happen soon." As he said this, he checked the watch on his wrist and realised it was even later than he had thought. "Perhaps leaving now might be the best idea, eh?"

 

[Soren Sedridor]

The attention they were drawing from the few other students present in the library made being there uncomfortable for the Hufflepuff boy. It was difficult to find a single place in the castle that was devoid of any other people, he'd been quick to find. Rather than pay attention to the stares, Soren kept himself focused on the Gryffindor prefect, listening to his words and blocking out everything else. He was asking for his name. It wasn't a question the boy was often asked, aside from by the professors with each new class. 'Søren.' He responded on his piece of parchment. The accent wasn't necessary, but he'd always been taught to write it that way. It surprised some people to find he was Danish, as his lack of social capabilities meant his accent wasn't evident while stuttering out letters.

The Sedridor boy nodded at James' suggestion to leave the library. He didn't want to be around when the library reached its peak, and now that he had someone else with him he felt more confident to walk down the halls. He slowly got to his feet and rubbed at his tear-streaked face, hoping it was clear enough to step outside and not earn any second glances. He took a quick look toward the door and then turned back to James, scribbling down on his parchment for a moment. 'I'll be safe with you?' He wrote, knowing that being with the prefect was probably the safest he could be, but wanting that reassurance before they left.
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[James Adams]

James saw the word upon the page and smiled. It was clear that it was Scandinavian of some kind, but he wasn't naive enough to think he knew which one. There were so many variations that he would have to ask if he wanted to know more. He realised that it may not even have been Scandinavian proper, but rather from close by there. Realising that this wasn't something too important to know, James just nodded at his name, mouthing the word, trying to work out how to pronounce it. Deciding that a firm Sore-n was probably near enough, James once again nodded at the Soren's question. "You'll be as safe with me as you'll ever be, I'll get you back to Hufflepuff in no time, don't you fret. I know a few passages that might get us past a lot of the busy-bodies wondering what has gone on."

---

James had taken a few deserted passages on his way to the common room, and he was now standing outside the place where it was supposed to be. He didn't quite know how to access it properly, so he turned to Soren and crouched down to his level. "Soren, I don't care what you say, if this ever happens again, I'll be coming down hard on those wretches thinking this was funny. For now though, perhaps bed would be best. Farewell my friend."

Out of Character:

The timeshift should be ok, no? Make changes if you want.

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[Soren Sedridor]

Soren breathed a happy sigh, reassured by the prefects words. He took in another deep breath to prepare himself for leaving the sanctuary the library provided, and followed James into the corridor. He was surprised by the amount of turns they took down secluded passages. He was only vaguely aware of the fact that people knew shortcuts, some even through portraits, but he'd never found any himself. He rarely left his room to do so. It would have been handy to look, once he found the courage to brave the public.

In no time at all, they stood by a pile of average looking barrels stacked upon each other. He figured the Gryffindor had no idea how to get in, just as Soren wasn't entirely sure how to access just about any of the other common rooms. Still, he was as close as he could be to the safety of his room. From this point he was fine on his own. James spoke, and it brought a smile to Soren's lips. It was nice to know he had someone to help him out if he needed it, though he hoped it wouldn't have to come to that in future. The young boy leaned forward and gently hugged the older boy before he left, appreciative of what he'd done for him, before rapping on one of the barrels and slipping quietly into the common room.
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