Chapter Three:
Harsh Punishments

✶

Wednesday,
September 7th,
1977.

Alright, hear him out. It wasn't exactly Archer's intention to be late—and to Defence Against the Dark Arts no less!—but he had accidentally slept in... it was becoming a habit. And like, alright, maybe he should be a bit more aware of the time, but still. Mistakes happen, right? And he was sure that Dhruv would have woken him up if they had first period together, but since Dhruv didn't take DADA, he had a free period, so he was still sound asleep whilst Archer was scrambling to get himself organised.

     Archer just hoped that the new professor, Professor Kingston, would be lenient. Granted, they had been back at school for little under a week now, so maybe he wouldn't let it slide...

     Ah, well—guess he would just have to find out!

     His footsteps were heavy as they thumped rhythmically against the floor, echoing slightly against the stone walls around him. He practically ran—though not fast enough to draw suspicion from any surrounding classrooms.

     "I am so sorry for being late—" Archer managed to get out as he skidded into the classroom. Almost all eyes were on him. Red faced, he tried to control his breathing so that it didn't look like he had just run a marathon. It didn't work that well.

     However, Professor Kingston barely paid him any attention. In fact, it didn't even seem like Kingtson had noticed him at all. The man had his back facing Archer, and he continued to wave wand at the large blackboard in front of the room, magically using chalk to write on it. Once he had finished writing on it, he slowly turned around to face Archer. His eyes narrowed, and he warned, "Be late again and face the consequences, Mr. Reyes."

     Archer gulped, and then nodded. He looked around and tried to see if he could find any empty desks.

     "Don't bother sitting down just yet, Mr. Reyes," Kingston said, amused, watching as Archer tried to find a seat. The man leant against the front of his desk, his hands positioned behind him for support. His icy blue eyes swept across the entire room. And then, after a moment of dramatic silence, he announced, "I have deemed it necessary to impose a seating arrangement."

     The classroom was filled with annoyed groans almost immediately, but Kingston only sat there patiently and waited until the class became silent again. It didn't take long, because everyone was wondering why he had decided to do this. Archer stared at him inquisitively. Kingston's expression had darkened, and it was like a blanket of tense silence had suddenly fallen over the class.

     "Memento mori." He let the words sink in for a few moments, but the entire class just blinked at him, and Kingston refrained from rolling his eyes. "Anyone?"

     "Remember you will die."

     The words came from a girl in the back row, who had long brown hair which rested against her Hufflepuff robes. All heads turned to her, and her lazy posture disappeared as she straightened up in her seat. Her cheeks turned a little red. "What? I can be smart without being in Ravenclaw, you know."

     Kingston nodded, the ghost of a smile on his face. "That is correct... Miss Martinez, right?"

     She nodded.

     Archer knew Riley Martinez. Kind of. They had never actually had a conversation, but he had gone to school with her for around seven years now, so he had seen her around the place. Truth be told, he didn't know much about her.

     Kingston snatched away the class' attention again, clearing his throat loudly. "These are dark times," he said, a sombre tone to his voice. He waited a few moments before speaking again, ensuring he had the class' full attention. "Lord Voldemort—" almost everyone in the room flinched at the name, "—is at large. You don't know who his supporters are; who's working for him and who isn't. You don't know who you can trust. It's times like these where you need to trust your friends, now more than ever..."

     Archer found himself suddenly wishing that Dhruv took this class too, because then at least they'd be standing there together.

     "But... you also need to know who your enemies are," Kingston said. "Know their strengths. Their weaknesses. Because any battle could be your last. Like Miss Martinez said... Remember you will die."

     A still silence settled across the class. There was this captivating charm to how he spoke, like he was telling a forbidden secret of which no one could know. Delicate and precise like he was stepping on eggshells. There was an underlying tone in his voice that was deadly serious...

     "So!" Kingston clapped his hands loudly, startling everyone, including Archer. "That is why we are going to have a seating plan. Your partners are on the board—sit with them."

     As he launched into a monologue about how there would be no swapping and no idiotic wand waving (just the usual!), everyone began to move their books to go sit with their partner. Archer wasn't sure if it was just him, or perhaps it was simply because he was too far away, but he was having a hard time trying to read Kingston's messy handwriting. After a few seconds, once he found his name, his eyes drifted to the name next to his.

     You've got to be kidding me, he thought in disbelief.

     That was when a familiar voice sounded from behind him: "So... I guess we're together, then."

     Sirius Black. Of course.

     Archer huffed in response. "Yeah... great. I can't wait." His tone was half-hearted and rather sarcastic. He couldn't believe the odds—out of anyone in this class, anyone, his partner just happened to be Sirius. But he wasn't going to argue; he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not since Kingston had just delivered to them a whole fucking speech about how serious this war was... Archer just couldn't. He could last until the end of the period, he decided. And he did... well, almost.

     The bell went, signalling the end of class. Archer sighed in relief and bagun to put his books away. Hopefully in the next DADA class he would have a different partner. Perhaps one he actually liked... Now that would be ideal!

     Alas, it was as though Kingston could hear his thoughts, for when he said, "Class dismissed!" He also added: "Oh, and you all best get used to your partner, because that is who you're going to be stuck with for the entire year!" And then he chuckled. For someone that talked a lot about the severity of war, Archer thought that Kingston was acting like this was all just a fun game. It infuriated him.

     "The entire year?" Archer protested, eyes widening. "You're kidding."

     Luckily, most of the class had already left, so almost no one got to see his little outburst. The only people left were himself, Sirius, and Kingston, as well as Riley and her friend, Heather Finch, who had lagged behind—now they seemed mildly interested in whatever was about to go down. Like with Riley, Archer had little to do with Heather, despite attending school with her for about seven years. They were in different houses, too, with Heather being in Slytherin and Archer being in Ravenclaw, so that certainly didn't help the matter.

     Kingston raised an eyebrow. "No, Mr. Reyes, I am not kidding," he said, tilting his head in faux curiosity. He challenged, "Why? Is there something wrong with that?"

     "No, erm, of course not," Archer said, scrambling for an excuse. He wasn't the one to go against his teachers' directions often, if at all. Usually he agreed with them, but not in this instance. "But, erm, sir... This is our N.E.W.T's that we're talking about. Wouldn't it be more beneficial for us to, erm, have different partners... occasionally...?"

     He was pulling this right out of his ass. Nevertheless, he just hoped it sounded legitimate enough.

     Kingston sighed. Then he shrugged, an expression on his face that screamed, I thought about what you said, but I don't really care! He said, "You may be right—" then his eyes turned as hard as steel, "—but I don't care. This is my classroom and I'll do whatever I please. And you'll be with whoever I want you to be with. In this case, It's Mr. Black."

     Archer had almost forgotten that Sirius was still standing next to him. He glanced over at the boy. Sirius had a frown plastered on his face, directed right at Kingston. He said, "Well, hang on just a second—"

     "Speak another word and you'll get detention," Kingston interrupted Sirius. "I don't want to continue discussing this."

     Bloody hell, Archer thought. He's fucking mental.

     Sirius, on the other hand, didn't think that, he actually said it under his breath: "Bloody hell..."

     About to walk away, Kingston suddenly stopped in his tracks. Archer and Sirius—and even Riley and Heather, who were still watching on from the side—waited with bated breath. The man slowly turned back around, a spark in his eye. Archer couldn't decide if it was mischief or excitement or anger or what. That man was hard to read.

     Kingston tilted his head, seemingly calm. "Detention it is, then. For the both of you."

     "What the fuck—?!"

     Sirius was quick to cut off Archer's words with some complaints of his own. "A detention? That is totally unfair!" In frustration, strands of black hair fell into his eyes. He brushed them aside.

     Kingston's expression remained mysterious, and it infuriated Archer to no end. The man's blue eyes flickered between Archer and Sirius for a moment, then his gaze floated briefly to Riley and Heather, who were still there, awaiting the finale. Kingston almost smirked. "Alright. Make that Friday night detentions for the rest of the year, until Christmas break."

     Archer's mouth flew wide open. He was speechless. There were months left until then—it was only September, for crying out loud!

     "You can't do that!" Sirius protested.

     Kingston challenged, "Can't I?"

     Archer was practically fuming, though there was this sense of helplessness seeping through as the revelation struck him: there was nothing he could do. Kingston was the professor, him and Sirius were merely students.

     Sirius turned toward him, smiling tentatively. Then he shrugged, as if to say, Ah, well! That's life. What can you do?

✶

Monday,
July 11th,
1977.

Archer had absolutely no plans for the summer. It was borderline upsetting, he knew.

     It had only been a few weeks since the start of summer break, and Archer was almost bored out of his mind already. Harvey had gone off to work at the Ministry of Magic that morning, so it wasn't like he could hang out with him, which is what he would usually do. In fact, seeing Sirius yesterday was just about the most eventful thing to have happened so far. His initial plans were to hang out with Dhruv, but he had gotten a letter earlier that day to which Dhruv informed him of how he and his family were taking a last-minute trip to the beach.

     So... Archer had no plans. Which only led to one option, and it wasn't something Archer looked forward to: homework.

     It wasn't very Ravenclaw-like of him, was it? To hate homework, that was. Truth be told, he didn't mind the homework that came from classes he excelled in, like Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology, but Potions homework? Now that was another matter entirely.

     The truth was, Archer wasn't exactly sure how he had managed to scrape an Exceeds Expectations on his O.W.L., but he had and now he found himself little under two months away from his final year at Hogwarts, and the N.E.W.T level Potions class. With that in mind, Professor Slughorn had told him that if he wanted to do well in that class, then he would need to do some additional work during the holidays, to practice and to learn, and so he had issued an essay for Archer. How fun!

     And sure, Archer didn't have to take the N.E.W.T level class, but he thought that it would be better to be safe than sorry. After graduating, he wanted to be a Mazioologist, or something along those lines, and he thought that it would probably be helpful to be able to brew Doxycide, or Dragon Tonic, or even a fucking antidote, which was exactly what he was trying to learn about now.

     Key word: trying.

     The essay that Slughorn had given him was on Golpalott's Third Law, and it was confusing as fuck. Archer ran his hands through his hair in frustration, letting out an irritated groan. The textbook was difficult to read, and it used lots of complicated words he didn't know the meaning of. He found himself reading the same sentence over and over. He found himself reading the same sentence over and over. He found himself reading the same sentence over and over. But right when Archer was about to throw in the towel, right when he was about to give up and try again later, a light tapping noise came from behind him.

     Archer knew exactly what it was. Spinning around, his heart leapt in his chest. He smiled.

     "Is this going to become a habit?" Archer said as soon as he opened the window.

     "Hey, Arch," Sirius said. He smiled at him, a dazzling smile that blinded Archer for a moment. "Wanna get out of here?"

     Sparing a quick glance over at the Potions essay he was supposed to be writing, Archer hesitated. But his uncertainty was short-lived, and he turned back to Sirius and said, "Do I ever!"

     Much to his rotten luck, Sirius' eyes had followed his line of sight right to where the just about blank piece of parchment sat along with his textbook. He furrowed his brow. "Whatcha doing?"

     "Erm, just a Potions essay that Slughorn wants me to do," Archer said. "I don't really understand the topic, though..."

     "What's it on?"

     Archer screwed up his nose at the very thought of it. He said, "Golpalott's Third Law."

     "Huh..." Sirius frowned as he tried to remember what that was. He lifted himself into the bedroom, and then he walked over to the desk where Archer had left his open textbook sitting. "Erm... 'The antidote for a blended poison will be equal to more than the sum of the antidotes for each of the separate components...'" He read aloud, and his eyes sparkled with recognition. "Oh! I know this."

     Archer stared at him with bewilderment. "I'm sorry, but that made you remember? That made no sense!"

     Sirius let out a snort. "C'mon, I'll teach it to you."

     He let out a quiet groan. Alright, sure, he knew that he should just get it over and done with, but you couldn't blame him for being a little disappointed—he had been rather excited to do something spontaneous with Sirius.

     "Alright, we're going to stay here until you understand it," Sirius said, a light-hearted edge to his voice. Archer made a face. "Think of it like... a reward system! Once you do this, it's done, and then you'll be able to have fun."

     Archer huffed. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

     Sirius eyed him playfully, and then he said, "Unless, you know, this is your idea of fun... in which case—"

     "No! Oh, my God," Archer said, laughing. "I think I would rather jump into the Black Lake than do this."

     Sirius grinned at him, and Archer knew Sirius had won him over. The prospect of hanging out together again was too exciting for either boy to refuse. If all they had to do to hang out was one little essay, they'd do it. They'd do it over and over again if it meant they could be together.

     "Alright, so," Sirius said. "Golpalott's Third Law..."

✶

Wednesday,
September 7th,
1977.

"And—if you can believe it—he had the audacity to smile!" Archer huffed in annoyance as he relayed what had happened that morning to Dhruv, his best friend.

     The two boys were in the Great Hall for dinner. It was busy, as always. The room was filled with mindless chatter and the sound of knives and forks clattering against the golden plates as people ate their main courses.

     Archer continued, "What is up with that? Like, he had just got us detention—speaking of, what kind of teacher does that? We're only in the second week of classes. Christmas break is months away!"

     "Damn, Archie," Dhruv said, chuckling with disbelief. "I am so glad I don't have to take that class anymore."

     Still a little irritated, Archer hummed. "Yeah, lucky. Argh—" he loaded a piece of chicken onto his plate, "—It's so annoying, though... Kingston only seemed to target Sirius and I because we went against him. I mean, it makes sense, but still. It's so unfair. That's every single Friday night until Christmas—oh, God, I don't even want to think about how many detentions that is." Groaning miserably, he picked up his form and aggressively stabbed the piece of chicken, shoving it into his mouth.

     "Why do you hate him so much?"

     "Kingston?" Archer said, swallowing down the food in his mouth. He frowned at Dhruv. "Because he's a bloody git—"

     "No, no," Dhruv said, shaking his head. "Sirius. Why do you hate him?"

     Archer could've rolled his eyes. He looked at Dhruv as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. "Erm, maybe it was because he landed us in detention!?"

     Except Dhruv shook his head and rested his cutlery against his plate, and that was when Archer knew it was getting a little serious. Dhruv frowned. "That can't be the whole reason. I got both of us in detention in third year, and you don't hate me." Dhruv hesitated, then said, "Besides, the detentions seem like your fault as much as they are Sirius'... no offence, dude."

     There was a pause.

     "Well... I don't hate him."

     Dhruv said, "I know you two used to be friends—"

     "—But that was a long time ago," Archer said, cutting him off.

     He almost regretted bringing this subject up, because here was the truth: Archer didn't hate Sirius. He could never hate him. No matter the shit that they went through or the hurt Sirius had caused him, Archer couldn't hate him, even if he wanted to. When you really knew someone, you couldn't hate them, like how Archer knew Sirius and how Sirius knew Archer. It was nearly impossible.

     Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it—their conversation came to a halt when the man himself, Sirius Black, arrived at the Ravenclaw table. He was on the other side of the table where Archer sat, standing right next to Dhruv whose eyes were wide.

     "If you try to cut up any more of that chicken, well, I don't think it'll look much like chicken anymore," Sirius said, trying to diffuse the tension.

     Archer glanced at his plate, where the meat was in fact ripped to shreds and now barely recognisable. He frowned at Sirius. A little harshly, he said, "Do you need something?"

     Sirius didn't seem affected by Archer's standoffish front. "I just came to say that I talked to Kingston, and he agreed to shorten our detentions so that they're every second Friday until Christmas break," he said. "I know, it's still a lot, especially for the dumbest reason, that git... but it's less than before, only nine now."

     "Thank you..." Archer said, offering a small smile. The anger he had been feeling was suddenly replaced with an enormous amount of gratitude. "You didn't have to do that."

     "Of course I did," Sirius replied. It struck Archer that Sirius probably didn't want to spend every Friday night in detention either. "And... you're welcome."

     An awkward silence followed. Sirius was quick to excuse himself.

     "Huh," Dhruv said, "So, that's good, right?"

     Archer nodded, but he wasn't listening to Dhruv, not really. Watching as Sirius walked back to the Gryffindor table, he was lost in his thoughts, thinking about how Sirius didn't have to do what he did, yet he did it anyway. In addition—he was also trying not to think about how those stupid fucking butterflies in his stomach soared every time that Sirius was around. Argh.

     Goddamnit, Archer cursed internally. Sirius... Why do you make me feel like this?

word count: 3432
06.09.2021