as i remember the warnings, i will reiterate it just about once more: isolation, imprisonment, physical and mental abuse - some described in great detail, some only hinted, unlawful discrimination and God knows what else i decide to put in last minute.

just as a second note, the abuse plotline is there for a reason. it is not just randomly there and is part of a much bigger plot.

there is something to be left desired in this chapter but i don't really know how to change it or what to do with it.

i want to take the time to mention that every single bit of feedback that is posted on this story actually makes my day.

now, replies to any inquiries:

Ya0iLover: i tend to update around Thursday or Friday every week, though this will probably be more frequent once my exams are over at the 12th of May.

Chapter Eighteen

The first thing that Percy thought when he woke up after being hit with a Bludger was: where in Merlin's name am I? The second thing he thought, as a congregation of extremely vivid (and highly humiliating) memories suddenly filled his head, was: just brilliant. I don't even play Quidditch and I still got hit by those bloody Bludgers. He ran his hand through his wet red curls. The infirmary was set to a temperature where Percy's body could only react to by sweating profusely to the point where it dampened his hair. At the moment, he was fantasising about taking a long dip in a pool made entire out of frozen pumpkin juice (a concoction that Bill introduced Percy to a few years ago. It was just about the best thing in the world, right next to a fresh copy of Giledory Lockhart's Break with a Banshee.) Percy managed to get his wand enough to call out a cooling charm, which was highly ineffective. He felt a sneaking coolness for a second and then it just disintegrated soon on after. This may be because of the fact that his hand was so clammy and sweaty that it was hard to grip his wand.

"Quite a nasty fall you took there, Mr Weasley," Nurse Pomfrey expressed, sneaking up behind him and noticing how his body was so sweaty that Percy's skin stuck to the sheets. "Do you have a fever? Let me check your vitals..." she took her wand from beside a desk and a hazy cloud formed just above his body.

"No," Percy murmured. "This room is fairly hot."

"That's not true," the woman was old as time, and had probably went through menopause. Of course, she wouldn't find this room hot by any means. She probably could travel to the sun and still want to turn up the bleeding heater. Percy tried to keep these thoughts to himself for a number of reasons, but honestly, it was how he felt. "That's odd. You don't have a fever."

"It's hot as basilisk balls here!" a voice sounded out, making Nurse Pomfrey look up with an agitated expression over towards Marcus Flint, who himself put Percy's sweating to shame. There were large patches of dampness underneath his armpits, and his pale cheeks were huffed with redness. He looked like he would just about to have a sunstroke.

Pomfrey sighed deeply. "It's these potions that I've been taking for this lewd ringing in my ear. I'll turn down the temperature now."

She disappeared for a few moments, as Marcus walked beside Percy, glaring at him as if he was the reason for why it was so hot. Adrian was slumped against Terence, looking close to fainting and muttering things about how disgustingly wet his hair was. On the other side of Terence, Miles buried his head into Terence's shoulder. This actually was funnier than it seemed because Terence was short and slightly smaller than average. Adrian and Terence were tall—still relatively short compared to Marcus, whom towered over them and was built like a brick wall.

Percy's eyes were on Adrian before. He had never really noticed but Adrian was uncannily a young version of Snape – long jet-black hair, paler than snow, tall and nearly too thin. It didn't happen that Adrian had a direct aversion to anything that wasn't black. The realisation made Percy's cheeks colour in and he looked away for a few seconds.

The temperature seemed to drop down enough that Percy no longer was bathing in his own sweat. Thank Merlin for that!

"The things I do for you!" Adrian exclaimed, walking towards Percy. "Look at this!" he grabbed a fistful of hair. "How am I supposed to fix this? It's horrid. Marc, I—"

"How many bleeding times am I supposed to tell you not to call me Marc?" Marcus raised an eyebrow. He obviously seemed annoyed. Percy kept his eyes on Marcus' face for the first few seconds before he pulled his hand down to his pockets, where he felt the ball of paper. He couldn't wait until they could go away just so that he could read it. It was still dry and somehow unaffected by Percy's wetness. "How are you feeling, Weasel? That's one fall you took there. If you plan on doing that again, make sure to let us know before so we make sure to get the cameras ready, alright?"

Miles stood up, gulping for air. Terence seemed unaffected by the heat.

"That was bloody brilliant!" Miles exclaimed. "People wouldn't stop talking about it afterwards. That brother of yours, the big old lug that he is, stopped the whole thing and insisted that we do it another day. You seemed to have worried Charles greatly, you know. His eyes must've jumped out of his sockets—"

"Ahem," Charlie's voice broke Miles out of his narrative. He was standing by the door, still dressed in his scarlet Quidditch robes. "Get out, Bletchley. Also, ten points from Slytherin for being a pain in the arse."

Miles offered a weak smile. Adrian walked alongside Terence, immediately starting to rant about something. Marcus hadn't left yet, keeping his eyes on Charlie for a while. There was some sort of silent communication going on there that Percy did not follow understand. They seemed to be staring at each other intensely.

"Weasel," Marcus sounded dangerously cold.

Charlie stared over at Marcus with a soft expression. "It doesn't have to be like this, Flint."

Marcus didn't say anything to that and just left, oddly he was pissed but he didn't result to physical violence. Somehow, Percy had just realised that Marcus rarely ever used physical force on anyone. He saved it was for times where it was more warranted (in Marcus' opinion. Percy did not believe violence was ever warranted in any situation) than not. It oddly made him feel safe around the dark-haired part-troll.

"What was that about?" Percy asked, raising an eyebrow. His heart beating loudly into his chest, because he could guess what it was about. He remembered the bruises around Marcus' neck, the ones he was trying to hide with his turtleneck (in November. That should've tipped someone off, shouldn't it?)

Charlie's cheeks coloured in. "It's nothing. You-you have to rest up, you know? That Bludger must've—"

"He has finger-shaped bruises," Percy suddenly mentioned, his voice throaty. "On his neck. I saw."

Charlie seemed surprised. "Perce—"

"I saw them, Charlie," Percy's voice was softer now. "If something or someone is hurting Marcus, I have to know because Marcus is my mate. They all are, and I don't want anything to happen to them."

Charlie rubbed his neck. "Percy, you just got hit by a Bludger. You need to rest."

Percy's eyes were burning and were watery.

"Why didn't you see me when I had that-that seizure?" he suddenly blurted out, his voice was low when he said this, and he could feel his eyes becoming watery.

Charlie sat down beside Percy, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Percy, I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

"I'm sorry too," Percy suddenly mentioned, his eyes wide with pain. "I'm sorry too," he repeated.

Percy slowly nodded his head and looked back up at Charlie with a softened expression and pain throbbing in his chest. They had both made mistakes. He'd made Charlie angry with how he was treating them after the hospital and he knew that much. For the next few seconds, all Percy could think about was the throbbing in his dodgy leg and the feeling of neglect burning into his chest.

"I didn't throw it," Percy suddenly mentioned, his voice soft.

"I know, Perce," Charlie insisted, running his hand through Percy's still damp curls. "I know."

Charlie's eyes were so soft that they were nearly liquid chocolate. Percy melted right in. He didn't know why but he could tell that Charlie was genuinely sorry and apologetic for what had happened. It had been a month since he'd left the house—just a little over. It didn't have to be this way anymore. "Let's just put this all behind us... we're-we're family, Perce."

Percy nodded his head and looked down at the ground. He thought back to those bruises on Marcus' neck. How could someone do that to him? To an eleven-year-old? Even if it was Marcus Flint, it was disgusting.

"How do you get bruises like that?" Percy suddenly mentioned again, his voice resolute. "Like Marcus?"

"I can think of one particular way but you wouldn't want to hear it," Charlie noticed Percy's determined-looking expression and an eyebrow raise as if to say Go on. "Just go to sleep, Perce. You've had a long day and Merlin knows how hard that Bludger hit you—"

"Marcus is my friend," Percy cut Charlie off, eyes looking dangerously solid. "How did he get those marks on his neck, Charlie? Because you know. I know you know who did this to Marcus. I know you know how. Please just let me—"

"He was strangled," Charlie expressed in a whisper.

Percy's heart was racing. "They did...asphyxiate...?" he repeated, breathlessly. "You have to be joking."

Charlie looked away from Percy's face for a few seconds, and Percy's eyes were burning with tears. The thought of someone choking Marcus to near death was horrifying. It was more terrible than the thought of being hit by a Whomping Willow, or being chased down a stream by a band of Aurors. It was more terrifying than seeing a manticore. It was just terrible, because it happened. It happened and everyone else was somehow going about their way, as if it didn't happen—as if it didn't matter that Marcus must've been terrified for his life before because someone obviously hated him enough to smother him.

Percy grabbed Charlie's arm, tugging at his robes. "Who did it, Charlie? Who hurt him?"

"Percy," Charlie called out in a soft voice. "Please, rest."

"Who did it?" Percy's voice was higher this time, and his eyes were big and blue. He knew that Charlie knew. Charlie told Marcus that it didn't have to be this way. "Who hurt my friend, Charlie? Who did it?"

Charlie bit down his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood.

"His father, Percy," Charlie admitted with a sigh. "It was his father."

Percy felt his head pound as he stared down at his long legs. The throb in his leg seemed to be insignificant. He sunk down to the infirmary cot, letting out a weak cry as tears ran down his pale cheeks. He wrapped the blanket around his small frame and turned to his side.

"Perce..." Charlie placed his hand on Percy's arm.

"This isn't fair," Percy suddenly spat out. It wasn't. He didn't know what on earth an eleven-year-old could do that was so bad that he ended up with that kind of trouble.

"No, it isn't," Charlie said before he bit down his lower lip. "But Marcus doesn't want any help."

Percy's head suddenly shot up. He'd wiped away his tears, and felt his blood sit still. Marcus didn't want to let anyone know that his father was so despicable as to try and asphyxiate his own flesh and blood?

"What?" Percy's voice was soft. "What do you mean that he doesn't want any help?"

"He wants to protect his father," Charlie shrugged his shoulder and then pursed his lower lip tightly. "Snape had a talk with him recently, but I don't think he's budging. He was pretty verbal about how it was none of our business. The Slytherin prefect and I tried to talk him into it in the beginning of the year. I noticed there were bruises on his shoulders. He'd admitted his father had been a little forceful in makings sure he didn't do anything doing anything particularly stupid this year. He'd been forcefully restraining Flint."

Percy felt a pang in his chest.

"Perce, don't get involved into this," Charlie begged. It was a big old mess and Percy knew that much but he'd die before anything bad happened to Marcus.

Percy just shook his head. "He's my friend," by default, he was already involved.

Charlie looked like he wanted to continue to discourage him but he also had given up entirely on telling him not to be involved. Instead, he said, "I'm sorry about not visiting you after the seizure. I really am... I talked to Snape about it if it makes any difference. I did ask about you, even if I didn't exactly visit. I know it might not mean much, but at least you'll know that I didn't completely ignore the fact that you had another fit."

Percy slowly nodded his head. He didn't think he harboured any anger towards Charlie at the moment.

Charlie's face lit up. "You promise you'll rest up? I can get you a ham and cheese toastie if you want."

Percy nodded his head slowly. "Thank you," he repeated. He knew under normal circumstances, Charlie probably wouldn't have told him any of this about Marcus.

A determination brewed into Percy. He was not going to let this old man hurt Marcus like this. Strangulation and forceful restrain on an eleven-year-old. He brainwashed Marcus into thinking that it was fine, but it was not. Percy's hands were clutched so tightly they'd turned white. For the next few minutes, he tried to get himself to calm down. A few seconds later, the door opened. Percy was about to quip to Charlie that he was back abnormally quick for someone that hadn't yet taken his apparition test but instead, he saw Penelope Clearwater standing there, grinning wildly as she stared at him.

"Charlie came by?" she seemed excited. She must've seen him leave. "About time! I told you he didn't hate you because you were in Slytherin!"

She paused, and then anger made its way into Penelope's blue eyes. "What were you bloody thinking?! Interrupting that Quidditch practice like that? How many times are you going to be sent into the infirmary? Merlin, I should lock you up in a room for the rest of eternity before you get yourself decapitated! I firmly believe that your so-called mates are going to land you in Azkaban at the end of this year!"

Percy beamed at her. "I'm ecstatic to see you too, Penelope."

THAT afternoon, Percy had been told that he could go home. He hadn't sustained any true damage from the Bludger. He did hear that some had been injured by Bludgers to the point where they were out for weeks, but Percy was glad he was not the kind to. He had done some of his essay. Adrian Pucey was sitting with him and talking about how much he fancied a Gryffindor, but he was too scared to tell anyone else because he was afraid of being laughed at. Adrian's voice was very soft when he was nervous. Percy had never noticed this before. He talked about his mum. Her name was Adrianna. He talked about how his father seemed to have disappeared out of his life, becoming nothing more than thin air. He talked about how much he hated Exploding Snap, and mentioned he had a fear of anything that made a loud sound. It was very strange. Percy had pulled out Marcus' essay to read after he was done with his own essay. He was stunned by how bad it was, but had pushed that thought away. He'd noticed that most of the page was just doodles, particularly owl ones. His doodles were even worse than the essay because Percy had spent about twenty minutes trying to decipher what kind of creature that Marcus had drawn before realising that the head-to-body ratio and large eyes were indicating it was an owl. Well, he'd deduced owls, but it was still up for debate.

Adrian walked to their dormitories, paddling along with Percy. He was over enthusiastic and talked often about everything and anything. Apparently, Adrian and his family had a long history of loathing any semblance of colour. His baby clothing had been black. His robes growing up had been black. His room was painted black. All women in his family, whether or not they had black hair, had charmed it black at some point. Despite the fact that Adrian did not have any particular aversion to colour, he had gotten used to having an only-black attire that he even admitted that he pretended to like the Montrose Magpies, just because their merchandise was strictly black. This led to Adrian making Percy swear that he would not tell another human being on the face of this Earth about this Montrose-Magpie-black agenda.

Percy offered Adrian a smile, because that was more polite than saying: I don't really care about Quidditch.

Adrian and Percy incidentally met up with Terence and Miles. Percy noted that they should probably drag Marcus out of bed. They did not seem to think that this was a good idea particularly because they'd never disturbed Marcus when he mentioned that he was going to spend the whole day in the dormitory and did not want to be disturbed. However, there was that feeling of pain entwining in Percy's stomach, thinking about Marcus. Even though Marcus' father couldn't apparate into their dorms and finish the job, Percy was still stressed about the whole ordeal—for obvious reasons.

He wondered if this don't-bother-me-when-I-spend-the-whole-day-in-the-dormitory business had anything to do with what Percy had just known.

When they'd wandered to the boy's dormitories, Marcus had just come back from the showers. The bruising that was there this morning had disappeared. Marcus was sitting there, barrel-chested. He had an enormous bone frame. His chest was at least a few centimetres wider than even Miles' and if Adrian and Percy joined their bones together, it probably wouldn't make up the thickness of one of Marcus' long bones. Percy, however, did not expect to see that beyond a gigantic bone structure that Marcus had very little else. His thick skin was stretched over his bone, leaving gaps where bones were. His ribs stuck out prominently, and Percy could count every single vertebra on Marcus' spine. That... that couldn't be normal, could it?

"What are you looking at?" Marcus hissed over at a Terence that was gawking at him.

"You look like a thestral, mate," Miles suddenly mentioned. Percy had never seen one but from how they were described, he would say that this description was somewhat accurate.

Marcus' face fell. "I don't know how those look like, Bletchley but if I found it, it's something I wouldn't appreciate being compared to, I will find you and I will slowly kill you."

Percy watched Marcus change and he swore his heart dropped into his chest. Whenever Marcus inhaled, everything stuck out that much more. He didn't even bother wearing a pair of underpants before he wore his uniform and a pair of Slytherin robes. Suddenly, he just morphed from looking like starved and deathly skeletal to looking brawny and well built and... Marcus. Magic at its finest really.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, what are you all staring at?" Marcus raised an eyebrow.

"Aren't you going to put on some pants?" Miles joked, but it did nothing to quell the tension in the room.