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Chapter Text

The Hogwarts Express whistled to a stop and the sounds of students leaving their compartments, hauling their trunks and saying farewell to their friends already filled the atmosphere. James Potter remained seated and took a deep breath. His friends' eyes were trained on him. Peter looked nervous, like always, Remus was worried and Sirius looked angry.

"We'll fight them, Prongs. I don't care. We can run and hide somewhere." James didn't have to look at Sirius to know that he meant every word.

James shook his head. "It's not that bad." He stood up and forced a smile. "You are to have fun this summer, Sirius. You deserve to have one good summer."

Sirius closed his hands into a fist. "Yeah but we were supposed to spend the summer together, mate."

"Next one." James wiped out his wand and levitated his trunk down. "My parents are probably down there and I want to say goodbye to them before I go." He turned to Peter and patted him on the back. "See you in a few months, Wormtail." He then turned to Remus and hugged him. "Keep an eye on Padfoot," he whispered before letting go.

Sirius had already taken his trunk down as well and followed James out the door. They walked in silence but before they exited the train James stopped and turned to look at Sirius. He took his wand from his pocket and offered it to his friend.

Sirius glared at the wand and didn't make a move to take it.

"They won't let me take it with me," James explained. "Hang on to it for me, mate."

"This is bollocks!" Sirius said, frustrated, but took the wand and placed it carefully in his pocket.

James grinned before he exited the train. His parents were easy to spot. They were standing on the platform looking anxiously at the train. Two ministry officials were standing behind them. James lifted his chin and walked towards them.

His mother soon had him in an embrace. She was smiling at him. His father gave him a quick hug. His eyes were sad but they weren’t accusing at all. Both of his parents had told James last Christmas that they were proud of him and that hadn't changed with the decision of the ministry either.

"How are you, James?" his mother asked.

James gave her his best confident smile. "Don't worry, mum."

She spared a glare to the men standing behind her. "I wish we had more time."

"I'll write," James assured her.

"Mr. Potter…" one of the men said.

"We'll see you in a couple of months, James." His father put a hand on James shoulder and locked eyes with his son. Be strong, the looked said. James nodded once and then turned to Sirius again.

"Don't destroy my room," he said with a grin.

Sirius' grin was forced. "I make no promises."

"Wouldn't expect you too." James smiled and gave Sirius a quick hug. "Check up on Remus now and then," he said before he turned for the ministry men. "And have fun."

James let go of his truck, which Sirius took instantly, and approached the men. He wouldn't need it.

One of them produced a soda can from his robes and held it for James. "If you would touch this, Mr. Potter, we'll be on our way."

James gave Sirius and his family one last look before he placed his hand on the portkey.

* * *

Siberia was cold. James should have really be worrying about other things given his current predicament but the fact that he was freezing his balls off seemed to be the most important thing at the moment. He had been given a uniform, ugly gray robes, a pair of boots and a winter cloak to keep warm but he hadn't been given the chance to change into those yet and the clothes he was wearing were too light for the harsh Siberian climate, even in the Summer.

"We will be requiring your wand, Mr. Potter." The director of Rowell School for Unruly Wizards, Arvel Mizirov, gave James a hard look. He was tall and heavy. His eyes were brown and he was going bald. His voice was deep and accented but not so much that James couldn't understand what was being said.

England didn't have a facility like this. Azkaban was the only option for lawbreakers and there were very few underage wizards getting in serious trouble with the law and usually the threat of expulsion from school was enough, but not all wizards had the privilege to attend Hogwarts and they needed to be sanctioned in a different way. James was hardly the first English wizard to be sent to spend some time at Rowell.

"I left it home," James answered easily. Mizirov frowned, clearly not believing him, and then made a summoning spell which produced no wands.

"We have rules here, Mr. Potter," Mizirov continued. "We expect you to follow them. They exist for your own good and to ensure that the time you spend with us is fruitful." The man faked a smile. "You obey your teachers and instructors. You are to respect your fellow students and all the personnel here. There will be no questioning or defying our instructions. Any disobedience will lead to punishment. You are here to learn and we intend to make you a law abiding wizard."

James' eyes narrowed. Mizirov's gaze was superior, he was looking at James as if he was no more than a bug. James didn't drop his eyes. There was no way that he would give into this man, no matter what his position in this detention center was. He had his pride and he wasn't about to give that up.

Mizirov smiled. "Carwin will take you to the dorms."

A tall man that had been standing by the wall took a step forward. He was middle aged with a long neck and a fine nose. His lips were thin and he looked at James up and down. "Follow me, Potter."

If there was any doubt that Carwin was English before, they dissipated when he spoke. The accent was clearly English, maybe from Liverpool, James thought. Gathering his new uniform and other toiletries James followed Carwin out of Mizirov's office and down some ugly gray corridors.

"Not exactly your daddy's manor, uh Potter?" Carwin didn't turn to look at him. "Your family's influence might have convinced the ministry to lessen your punishment but I'll make sure you get the message loud and clear here."

"And what message would that be?" James asked, his voice cold and polite.

Carwin stopped walking and turned back to give James a sadistic smile. "It's not wise to cross the Blacks."

* * *

The other boys gave him unfriendly looks as soon as he walked through the double doors of the dormitory. It was a large room with rows of narrow single beds on each side, leaving a corridor down the middle. The beds were nothing like Hogwarts'. They had metallic frames, some even looked rusted, the mattresses were thin and over them gray sheets completed the beds. At the foot of each bed was a small metallic trunk for the boys to put in their belongings.

Carwin directed James to the last bunk on the right side and gave him a warning look before walking out of the dorms. There was a thick silence before five of the boys, about James' age or older, walked up to him.

"So you are the new guy," one of them said. They were all staring down at James. "Not quite what I expected."

James raised an eyebrow. "Sorry to disappoint. Have a name?"

"Curtis," the boy answered. He was taller than James, heavy looking with small brown eyes and dark brown hair. "You'll do well to remember that name."

"Yeah?" James placed his uniform and toiletries on top of his bed. "Why is that?"

"I run things here," Curtis glanced down at James' uniform and settled on the small nametag stitched on the breast pocket of his robes. "Potter. They say you go to Hogwarts." There was a sneer when Curtis pronounced the school's name.

James nodded casually.

"This isn't Hogwarts." Curtis' voice was clearly threatening. "I run things here. You do as I say or face the consequences and believe me," he glanced back at his friends, "you won't like those."

James looked at Curtis straight in the eye. "I've never been good at following orders," he said casually and even chanced a cocky grin.

There were five in Curtis gang and granted James hadn't been in that many fistfights, usually preferring to duel. The odds were certainly against him but he wasn't one to give in to anyone.

With one gesture from Curtis the five of them launched at James. Immediately James closed his fists and held his arms in front of his face. He managed to strike one good punch at Curtis before the five boys tackled him to the ground and someone landed a hard kick to his ribs.

An expulsion of wandless magic threw Curtis and his friends against the opposite wall. James stood up, careful not to wince and raised his chin. "As I said, I don't follow orders and you'll do well to remember that, Curtis."

He hadn't exactly meant for that to happen. He knew he had very strong wandless magic but the instances in which he had a chance to use them were so short and in between that he couldn't really control it. It wasn't exactly fair to use magic against wizards who probably had so little magic they hadn't received a letter to Hogwarts but he wasn't about to take a beating for it either.

The other boys in the dorm who had remained on the sidelines during the whole confrontation were looking at James with open mouths. Curtis and his friends stood up slowly. Curtis glared at James but didn't move towards him. Apparently James had made his point.

Dismissing the bully with a look, James put his toiletries inside his trunk, took his uniform and headed for the bathroom adjoining the dorms. He changed clothes quickly. The uniform was an ugly gray but warm enough so he wasn't shaking anymore. A bruise was already forming on his side but he'd had worst before. One night with a playful Moony usually left him in a lot worse shape.

He washed his face and looked at his reflection on the mirror above the sink. This was just the first day and he had a whole summer to go. James shook his head and forbade himself to feel any kind of pity for his situation. It was worth it and knowing full well the consequences he would still have acted the same way. Closing his eyes for a moment he wondered what Sirius was doing right now. He hoped his friend was having a good summer.

* * *

Sirius looked around the room and then sprawled in bed. It was too quiet. It wasn't right for the Potter's house to be this quiet. He understood why James always said he hated having an empty house. It was too big, too lonely. The Potters had sat up talking with him for hours, always reassuring Sirius and themselves that James would be okay. The summer will be over before you know it, Mrs. Potter had said.

It wouldn't. Sirius knew it would be a long, boring summer and though he was grateful he didn't have to be in Grimmauld Place anymore this wasn't exactly what he had pictured as a dream summer. No, James was supposed to be here and they were supposed to cause havoc all summer long, plan pranks, transform and play in the forest, go visit Remus during the full moons and maybe even go cruise for birds so James would forget about his recent obsession with Evans. And then the ministry had to go and mess up all their plans.

Sirius wasn't naïve. He could see his father's hand at work. He couldn't get Sirius back so he would make the Potters pay, make James pay for straying his son away for the path laid out for him. When James' sentence had been read it was as if it had come from the mouth of Orion Black himself. Sirius could hear the words as clearly as if they had been spoken by his father.

Orion Black hadn't been content, though. He wanted Sirius back, wanted his heir back, but the Potters weren't without influence and at least that had been prevented. He had then taken his rage on James. The summer to be spent at Rowell School for Unruly Wizards and then a weekend a month during the school year until next summer, plus Christmas and Easter breaks. The sentence had been for a whole year but the Potters and Dumbledore's influence had assured that James wouldn't lose a year of schooling for an incident of underage use of magic and the Ministry had come to accept this arrangement where, as they said, James would be properly disciplined without hurting his education.

Sirius punched his bed in frustration. It was his fault his best friend was spending his summer in juvenile detention. He could have sucked it up for another week, if he had done that then… Sirius growled and forced himself to stop that train of thought. James had slugged him, actually punched him in the face, when he heard Sirius talking like that. Sirius wondered if James would feel the same way at the end of the summer.

Chapter Text

James forced himself not to flinch as the matron hit his palm with the ruler three times. He noticed the eyes of the other boys looking at him, some sympathetic, Curtis and his friends with glee. After she moved to the next bed, James flexed his fingers a couple of times to ease the sting. This didn't bode well for him. He had been prepared for physical punishment, the Ministry had been very clear that it was one of the correctives used in Rowell, 'while no magic will be used on the students, physical punishment is a possibility for grave infractions,' the leaflet had said. If not making his bed well enough was considered a grave infraction James wasn't sure he wanted to know what other correctives they used in Rowell.

When everyone had woken up that morning one of the other students, a fifteen year old boy named Marcus Fletcher had told James that they needed to get ready for class and have their beds perfectly made. It wasn't James' fault that he had never made a bed before. He didn't need to in Hogwarts and he had house elves at home. He had thought he had made a passable effort, but the matron, a middle aged plump woman named Agnes, hadn't thought so.

Three swats for sloppiness, she had declared and just like that James had his formal introduction to Rowell.

"Someone always gets hit," whispered Marcus when they were headed for the dining room.

"Really charming place this is," James muttered under his breath. "Very homey."

Instead of the laugh he was expecting, Marcus sighed. "You'll see…"

It wasn't until he was sitting in a six people table, looking at his breakfast with equal parts of curiosity and disgust, that he understood what Marcus had meant. Carwin was back. He walked through the tables, looking at the students and hitting them in the back of the head now and then. James' eyes narrowed.

"Eyes on your food, Potter, unless you rather go hungry," said Carwin as soon as he noticed James looking at him.

"Well," James said, feeling that this would be one of his, as Moony called them, 'misguided self destructive moments'. "The gruel is more pleasant to look at than you."

He wasn't surprised by the hit to the back of his head or by the threatening look Carwin gave him. He had tried to place that name last night, as he was trying to fall asleep on the uncomfortable thin mattress. There were only two Carwin families he could recall. One of them was a small family that owned a parchment shop near Devon and the other had been moderately wealthy but had disappeared in the beginnings of the 20th century. Sirius would be better at recalling names, at least of the old families, but even though his parents hadn't been as obsessed with family trees and lineages, James also had to endure the dull hours of memorizing names and relations in his childhood.

Carwin was probably part of the second family. James couldn't be sure but he didn't think the humble people from Devon would associate very much with Orion Black, while the other Carwins had been high enough in the social circles to at least be deemed acceptable.

James turned back to his food and took a bit of the dry oatmeal in front of him. He had tasted worst. Once. And he didn't like to recall that particular hex that had everything he ate turn to mud in his mouth. He was in the middle of convincing himself to take another bite when he noticed that the two boys in his table were looking intently at him. He returned the look calmly and waited.

"That wasn't very smart," one of the boys said. He was pudgy and short and had big brownish eyes. James thought his name was Gunther. He wasn't one of the British students and his words were heavily accented.

"Figure I'll be getting in trouble for that?" asked James, casually.

"Carwin can make your life very difficult," said the other boy. James didn't know his name.

"I figure he would be doing that regardless." He shrugged. The little warning last night was enough for James to know that Orion Black hadn't been conformed with his sentence and was ready to use his own means to get his revenge on James and damn if James was going to hang his head and take that quietly.

The other boys didn't make further conversation and James went back to his food and forced himself to eat half of it before he gave up. He wasn't that hungry anyway.

After breakfast James was introduced to one of Rowell's all time honored traditions, one James learned very quickly he didn't much care for.

Balk, the highest ranked guard, in charge of keeping the boys disciplined, called it exercise time. Balk handled it, which meant that him and two other guards guided the students to the yard outside and made them run laps in the freezing cold.

"It's good for your health," Balk said in his heavily accented voice. "Keeps you boys active."

Eventually James found out no one knew Balk's first name and they all referred to him respectfully as Sir. James hadn't seen anyone as far away from a Sir in his life, except maybe Filch and he at least was British. Disgusting, annoying, dumb and ugly but British. Balk wasn't really tall but he had a wide back and strong arms. He was a man used to be feared, James could see, used to getting his way.

"How about fifteen laps this morning," Balk said cheerfully in English. His accent wasn't heavy and he then repeated the order in Russian, though James could see all the students understood him the first time.

As soon as he finished talking the boys started running. James noticed that Curtis and his friends were taking the lead and everyone was pushing themselves to run faster. James was nothing if not competitive and he took great pleasure in passing Curtis and widening the gap between them. James liked running and even if the air was cold, he liked the freedom of pushing his legs to move faster and faster. Of course, he liked it more when he could change into Prongs, running seemed more natural then, almost a need, but James had always been an active boy and running, even if it was on two legs instead of four, was one of his favorite activities.

He finished his laps before everyone and he was walking to cool off when Balk came towards him and slapped him lightly on the back. "Looks like we have a new winner. What is your name?"

"James Potter."

The others arrived moments later. Gunther, the pudgy boy from breakfast arrived last. He was breathing heavily and sweat slid down the side of his face. He looked pale and James wondered if he was sick as well as out of shape.

"Kushner," Balk sneered, "what a surprise." The false friendliness that had been on the guard's voice when he'd talked to James was gone and all that was left was disdain. "Fat and slow," Balk continued. "I had thought that by now you would be tired of the strap but you keep asking back for it."

Gunther lowered his head. He seemed petrified and just stood on his spot while Balk glared at him.

"Potter, as the winner you get the honors," Balk said and took a leather strap from his belt and held it out for James.

James glared at the object. "What?"

"Three strikes on the back of each hand," Balk explained. "You may apply as much force as you want. He will also to take your punishments at the end of the day." He gave James a sadistic smile. "Hands up, Kushner, or you want me to double it?"

Gunther raised his arms in front of him, much like James had done that morning for the Matron, but his palms weren't turned up.

Balk made an impatient gesture. "What are you waiting for?"

James shook his head. "I'm not hitting him."

There was a heavy silence and Balk looked at him for a long moment before he said loudly, "Curtis, explain to Potter how this works."

"The loser gets six swats of the strap applied by the winner," said Curtis. "The loser also has to take the winner's punishments for the day." He sneered at this. "So whatever trouble you earn today, Potter, it won't be off your back."

James eyes narrowed. "And you usually win," James said, directing a vile look at Curtis.

"Usually." The word was spoken through gritted teeth. James liked him less and less.

"I'm not doing that," James said firmly. "I'm not hitting anyone and I'm not letting him be punished instead of me." He crossed his arms in front of his chest and fixed Balk with his most insolent stare.

"You don't want to get on my bad side, boy." Balk wasn't smiling anymore.

"I won't do it," James said, firmly.

Balk grabbed him by the collar of his heavy jacket. "Are you disobeying?"

"I suppose I am," James answered. Seconds later he was on the ground and his cheek throbbed. Balk had backhanded him. James resisted the urge to bring his hand to his cheek and just glared at the guard.

"Last chance, Potter," Balk said menacing.

"No," James stated and stood up.

"Gunther, it’s your lucky day," Balk said, not even turning to look at the pudgy boy. "Potter here just volunteered to take your place as today's looser. Curtis, I think you arrived second."

"Yes, Sir," Curtis said, straightening up and giving James an evil look.

"Then you get the honors." Balk handed Curtis the strap. "I can't encourage you to get in trouble but Potter needs an attitude adjustment. Anything you do towards that end will be appreciated."

"Yes, Sir!" Curtis replied enthusiastically and walked towards James.

"Present your hands, Potter," Balk ordered him, "and remember you brought this on yourself."

He had, James thought with a bit of amusement and remembered Remus once telling him about being "too Gryffindor for his own good". At least Moony wasn't here to lecture him but then again, Moony would be raising his hands right along with him. He was also too Gryffindor.

* * *

"Why did you do that?"

James turned to look ad Ghunter who had taken the seat beside him in lunch.

"I wasn't going to hit you," said James simply, without even turning to look at the boy. He had his eyes trained on Curtis who was just coming out of line with his tray of food. Just a couple more steps and…

Curtis went sprawling on the floor, the food scattered all around him. The room erupted in laughter and James was no exception. It wasn't just the fact that Curtis was now covered in what passed as mashed potatoes here but also that he had managed to trip him without having a wand. It wasn't the effect the spell was supposed to have but it had worked just the same. He would just have to keep trying, and probably a lot, before he was able to cast a good wandless Levicorpus. It would probably be better if he started with a verbal spell just to learn control.

"Mr. Curtis, explain this mess," said Carwin, walking slowly towards him.

"I tripped, Sir."

"And you wasted all your food, do you think that's acceptable?" Carwin looked down at him.

"No, Sir."

"I'll write you up for ten swats and since you can't take care of your lunch, you can skip it." With a flick of his wand, Carwin cleaned the mess on the floor. "Go stand in the line."

"Sir," Curtis spoke, his lips turning into a smirk. "Potter was ordered to take my punishments today."

"Is that so?" Carwin asked and gave James a slow satisfied smile. "Potter, stand!"

James let his fork fall on his plate and stood up. He had a feeling that he wouldn't like this.

"Curtis, you can take his meal," Carwin said. "Potter, go stand on the line."

James spared Curtis a hostile look and walked to the right side of the dinning hall, where Curtis had gestured with his head, and soon noticed a bright red line painted on the floor. He stood there, crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared directly at Carwin.

"That is a punishment line, which you'll get to know better later this evening," Carwin said as he walked towards him. "You are to stay there during lunch," he added with a sneer and then walked away to where Curtis was sitting, eating James meal, to converse quietly with him. They were probably speaking of how much trouble they could get James into.

After their morning run the students had classes, mostly theory of magic but the English students also had a Russian class. During those, Curtis had gotten into trouble on purpose, getting in late, not answering when he was called upon, and he had been written up three times. James wasn't quite sure what that meant but by the looks some of the other boys gave him James was sure he wouldn't like it.

And now his prank had backfired. Granted, it wasn't the greatest prank and Sirius would probably laugh his arse off if he ever found out about it but James just wanted to get back at Curtis somehow. Next time it would need a bit more planning and James spent the rest of his time standing thinking of possible prank ideas.

When lunch was over the boys walked to their classrooms again. This time they had Latin, which James had studied a bit in the process of becoming an Animagus and he had used it to modify a few spells. The teacher was a plump man that spoke slowly and had the dual effect of making James want to fall asleep and stab himself in the ear.

Curtis did fall asleep and got written up again for it.

After the mind-numbing two hours of Latin, they were allowed Library time. Two hours to do their homework and have access to the small dusty library of Rowell. Even though there were a lot English students, most of the books were in Russian. James looked through the shelves, searching for possible interesting or useful books. He got tired quickly enough and went to sit at a table with Marcus and a few other boys.

They gave him a weary look when he sat down and then went back to their work. James took out his quill and parchment but instead or writing he leaned to the boy beside him and asked, "So, what am I in for?"

The boy, a blond with brown eyes turned to him. "What do you mean?"

"Tonight. Punishment," James explained. "It would be good to know beforehand. Not that I haven't been enjoying the lovely surprises throughout the day but this time I'd rather know."

The boy's face turned somber. "They use a strap," he said quietly.

By now the other boys had stopped their work and were paying attention to the conversation.

"Something tells me it's not exactly like this morning," James said.

"They use a heavier one," Marcus said. "Ten across the bare back for every write up."

James swallowed. "Right," he said slowly. Curtis had gotten written up five times already. "Anything else?"

"They do it after supper," explained the blond. "They read a list of those who had been written up and we have to kneel on that stupid red line until they get to us. The others have to stand and watch, at least the first two and then they are sent to bed."

"Don't forget the rice, Roger," said Marcus.

"Rice?" James asked, pretty sure that he didn't want to know.

"They put rice on the floor," Roger said. "We have to kneel on it while we wait and the last to be strapped has to pick it all up before he can go to bed."

"Lovely," said James, sighting.

"I guess you won't be doing stupid things like this morning anymore." Roger gave him a condescending look.

"I don't know," said James, trying to sound casual. "I have a friend who insist I don't know how to quit for my own good."

"You will after tonight," Roger stated.

James shrugged. "I don't know… My friend says I have a thick head."

"Hope you have a thick back," commented Marcus.

"I guess we'll see," James replied and turned his eyes to his parchment, not really sure what else to do.

Chapter Text

Sirius:

Apparently the nice people here at Rowell only send mail out and get it once a week. I know you must be fretting but this is the reason why this is late. I got settled here with no trouble. We have classes every day that I'm sure will help me improve my work next year. We help out with chores and exercise regularly.

I've met interesting people here and I have already gotten settled to the routine. I'm sorry this is short but you know me, prying myself away from my studies is proving to be difficult.

Say hi to Remus and Peter for me.

James

"What the fuck!?" Sirius yelled loudly and threw the letter angrily to the side of the room. He fumed for a moment before he got the letter and headed straight for the floo.

"Moony!" He yelled into the fire. "Moony, get here right now."

It was a moment before a sleepy looking Remus entered the living room and gave Sirius' head in the fire a confused look. "It's seven in the morning, you know?"

"I do, now get over here, we need to talk."

"I'm in my pajam--."

"I don't care!"

A look of alarm passed Remus face before he got some floo. Sirius stepped away from the fireplace and moments later it lit green and Remus, covered in sooth and wearing his well-worn orange pajamas, walked out.

"What is the trouble, Padfoot? You look upset."

"This is the trouble," Sirius said, handing the crumpled piece of paper to Remus.

Remus took it, unfolded it and read it. Then he raised his eyes from the letter, gave Sirius a look and read it again. "This can't be good," he said finally.

"Of course it isn't good!" Sirius snatched the letter back. "He wrote Sirius, see?" he asked, pointing to where his name was written. "He didn't put Padfoot or Pads or Putty Footy or anything. He wrote my name and he signed his. Not J or Prongs or your best mate, or Quidditch God Extraordinaire… James."

"I know," Remus said, trying to sound reasonable. "I think it would be fair to say they are reading his mail. He wanted us to be careful what we write him."

"I know," Sirius said, collapsing on a chair. "I didn't write him anything telling because we wanted to make sure and besides, we never put anything too incriminatory in writing, you know?"

"Obviously," Remus said, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

"It's not what worries me. Moony, this is as if it was written by someone imperioused. He says nothing, it's so plain and the talk about classes."

"Prongs is just writing what they want to read."

"Exactly! And he wouldn't do that," Sirius argued. "That time Filch made us write a letter apologizing James used it as an excuse to name all examples of Filch's stupidity. He wouldn't just do what they want him to."

Remus was quiet for a moment. "What do you know about that place?"

"James said it was a school. They are supposed to teach magic theory, things like that since they're not allowed wands. It's in Siberia so they have students from all over and a large group of brits. They gave James some leaflets about it, I think."

"Do you have it?" Remus asked, looking down at the paper again with a frown.

"No… I don't know." Sirius darted upstairs and heard Remus following him. He headed straight for James' bedroom and then proceeded to turn James' trunk upside-down and go through every scrap or spare piece of parchment he could see.

It took a moment but eventually Remus joined him, opening all the books to look between the pages. It was a few minutes before Remus said, "I think this is it."

Sirius dropped another parchment filled with scribbles and turned to Remus.

"It's a list of rules for Rowell School students," Remus said, frowning. "No wands, no clothing other than the uniform, no floo calls, monitored mail, no magical devices of any kind, no sweets…" Remus trailed off, his eyes scanning the rest of the information quickly. "I didn't know it would be this bad. He made it sound like just school."

Sirius took the parchment from Remus hands and began skimming it himself. James had told him about the wand and other restrictions but the more he read the more Sirius realized that there was a lot James had left out. He glared at each page as it described the classes, rooming, the fees the parents were supposed to cover until he reached a section called discipline. At first he didn't pay much attention but a sentence caught his eye: "magic against the students is strictly forbidden, however, correctives such as physical punishment may be used…"

The parchment fell from his hands. Sirius could feel an intense rush of anger, at James, at the Ministry, at his father, at himself, building up inside. He closed his hands into fists and tried to keep himself from yelling. James had lied to him, he had made it seem as it wasn't a big deal and it was. He was locked up in bloody Siberia with people hurting him so badly that he wasn't risking punishment for writing anything out of line. And it was the Ministry that sent him there, the Ministry, his father and Sirius himself for being weak, for letting James take care of him when Sirius should have been stronger than that and now—

The window of the room shattered with a loud crack. Grass flew everywhere, the floor, the bed, the walls. A stray piece cut his arm and Sirius blinked, letting his anger melt down into a dull rumble.

Remus was crouching on the floor, his arms covering his head. He stood up slowly and gave Sirius a long look. "You're hurt," he said, eyes fixed on Sirius arm.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Sirius asked, ignoring his cut. He hated when he lost control like this. His magic was too strong, too volatile and when he let himself get lost in strong emotions, anger especially, things tended to explode around him.

"I'm fine," Remus said calmly and walked towards Sirius. He got his wand from his pants pocket and pointed it at the cut in Sirius' arm, healing it with a quick movement of his wrist and a whispered incantation.

Sirius let himself fall and sat down on the floor with a thump, legs crossed and head hanging down. He felt Remus sit beside him and they just stayed like that for a while, in silence with the shards of glass all around them.

Remus took the papers from Sirius hand and a sharp intake of breath was the sign that he had read the same words Sirius had. "He'll be fine," Remus said after a moment but it sounded as if he was trying to convince himself as well as Sirius.

Sirius remained quiet. He couldn't find anything at all to say.

* * *

When the Potters came home at night Sirius had already cleaned the mess but the window was still missing and no matter how many times he had tried to conjure a new one all he got was a thin sort of glass that shimmered and disappeared minutes after the spell had been cast.

James would have managed, Sirius thought bitterly.

He had remained in a foul mood all day. Remus had stayed for a couple of hours but he had left afterwards, saying that his mother was expecting him for lunch. He invited Sirius to come but Sirius declined. He didn't feel like lunch.

When the House elves had come with a tray and begged Master Sirius to please have something to eat it had taken every bit of his self control not to lash at them. He was never really comfortable with House Elves and no matter how different Windy and Pixie were from Kreacher, Sirius could never completely ignore that feeling of suspicion and resentment for the creatures.

He left the tray untouched and a few hours later Pixie came for it and took it away silently. He had read the bloody rules of that school carefully. It was a lot of bollocks. It was a prison, there was no doubt about it. There were classes, magical theory, Latin, Russian for all the foreigners and English for the natives and something called ethics, to help the unruly wizards straighten their paths. Rubbish, all of it!

There wasn't an exhaustive description of the disciplinary methods and the leaflet made it sound like physical punishments were only handed out in serious cases. Remus had spent almost two hours telling Sirius how it was probably a rare occurrence and all James would have to deal with was scrubbing toilets and polishing bedpans, nothing out of the ordinary.

Sirius wanted to believe it and he kept telling himself that a few brush induced blisters would be James' worse complains but Sirius had lived in Grimmauld Place for sixteen years, he knew things weren't always what they seemed.

Sirius had dinner with the Potters but he couldn't bring himself to make small talk about his day, the weather or if the potatoes were crispy enough for his taste. Finally, Catrina Potter gave him a careful look and asked if there was something wrong.

"What do you really know about that school?" Sirius asked.

She sighed and shared a look with her husband.

"Sirius," Edward Potter said in an all too reasonable tone. "We didn't have much choice. There isn't any other sort of facility like that in Britain. The alternative would have been Azkaban."

"I know," replied Sirius bitterly. "I was at the hearing." He had watched his father from across the room and seen his satisfied smile as James was declared guilty. Azkaban for eight months, or ten months in Rowell. It had taken all the Potter's and Dumbledore's influences to reduce the sentence to summer, winter and Easter breaks and one weekend a month so James could go back to Hogwarts for his sixth year. Orion Black hadn't been satisfied.

Sirius had gotten a letter a week later, one with the Black family seal in the front. James had seen it and even though Sirius had wanted to open it alone James wouldn't go anywhere. It took Sirius three days to get the will to read it and when he did he threw it immediately to the fire. It was from his father. He would drop his complaint with the Wizengamonth and James wouldn't have to go to Rowell if only Sirius would come home.

He never told James.

"He sent a letter," Edward continued. "I'm sure he's not enjoying himself but he'll deal with it."

"He seems to be in good spirits considering," added Catrina, sadly. The old woman sounded tired, worried about her son but she was strong. Pureblooded women were all raised strong. "Did he write to you, Sirius? He said he did."

Sirius simply nodded. James' parents were wonderful, they were warm, they cared for his son, spoiled him, gave him everything he ever wanted. They were everything supporting parents were supposed to be. The loved their son but they didn't know James.

"They only allow him to send two letters a week so you'll have to forward his messages to Remus and Peter," Edward explained.

"Yes," answered Sirius, absentmindedly.

"It's only the summer. Next year all of this will be behind you."

Sirius wasn't so sure about that.

Chapter Text

The grains of rice wiggled on the floor and some of them levitated a few centimeters before they fell back down. The pressure of an oncoming headache intensified but James ignored it, focused on the rice littering the floor and tried again. This time some of the grains flew to the bag but most of them only stirred before laying still again.

James closed his eyes for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t getting it tonight, he knew it. He was tired, bruised, in pain and hungry and there was no way he would gather the necessary strength and focus to get the summoning spell to work correctly. He had thought becoming an Animagus was the hardest magical feat he would ever encounter. Well, wandless magic was worse. Much worse.

A tiny voice in his head pointed out that if he had been allowed to eat diner today or had more than four hours of sleep or hadn’t gotten the strap again he would be in a much better state. James ignored the voice. There was no use dwelling on what ifs. What would be useful would be mastering the bloody spell so he could summon all the stupid rice and go to bed.

He tried again, mimicking the hand movement without his wand and trying to direct all his frustration and rage in one single sentence, “accio rice!”.

Dozens of uncooked grains of rice flew directly at his face and then fell on the floor. James slumped down and closed his eyes. He guessed he could count that as progress but it really didn’t help with cleaning the floor and the charm on the door wouldn’t let him leave until every grain was back on the bag.

The first night it had taken him three hours. Finding the last stubborn grains had been a pain so the next night he had just said fuck it and climbed on top of a table to sleep there. That’s when he discovered the second part of the spell that would send what felt like a jolt of electricity to his back whenever he started to doze off.

Filch would love it here, with all the corporal punishments and seemingly endless torture methods. No chains, though. At least James hope there were no chains.

It had been two weeks and James had been put on rice gathering duty every single night. His back was in constant pain and his knees probably had permanent indents of rice grains, It would probably help if he just played along and used the strap on Gunther in the mornings and let him take his punishments but that would be giving up, giving in, and James was too much of a stubborn bastard to let that happen.

He wouldn’t lie, not to himself at least, but it was getting harder every day. Today he actually thought he could just not win. If he didn’t arrive first then it wouldn’t be on him to spare Gunther the strap and maybe he could get a break. But then he had glanced back and seen Curtis was behind him and he just wouldn’t give the git the satisfaction, so he pressed on.

Tomorrow he might lose for real. The missed meals (thank you Curtis) plus the lack of sleep (thank you Carwin) and his back (thank… yeah, mostly he can blame that on himself), meant that he wasn’t as fast as that first day.

He stretched his back and swallowed a wince as his welts made themselves painfully known. It was mostly bruising. Carwin had only managed to break the skin a few times but even though there wasn’t much blood, the strap was painful enough.

His first night there had been four boys written up for punishment, plus James. James had knelt on the line, in pain from the rice just seconds after his knees touched the floor, and watched a boy named Keith get strapped. He had only been written up once but by the sixth hit he was crying.

There were swallowed sobs and fat tears falling from the corner of his eyes and the boy couldn’t speak when the tenth hit fell and he was finally ordered to stand up and join the others.

After the second boy who had gotten twenty swats and cried (screamed and fallen from the kneel up position he had been forced to take), Carwin announced that tonight the students would have to stay for all the strappings. “So you can watch Potter here have his first time,” he added.

The next two boys had gotten twenty as well but hadn’t cried. They both were Russian and James hadn’t spoken to them before but he had noticed when they took off their shirts off that their backs were already bruised. It wasn’t their first time.

Carwin hadn’t tried to hide his smile when he beaconed James to the front. James steadied his hands, took off his shirt and knelt upright as he had seen the other boys do. There was no warning, just a sharp pain on his back that repeated again, and again and again.

He got fifty that first night.

He learnt later that apparently a student wasn’t supposed to get more than twenty swats a night. If he had more write ups the remaining licks would be delivered the next day and so forth until the tally was clean. Carwin had made an exception for his first time.

As it was, even after tonight’s punishment, James still had forty swats on his tally. He was always strapped last which meant that he always had to stay back for clean up. At least, after that first night, the other students weren’t required to stay and watch him get whipped.

“Orion Black sends his regards.” Carwin had said that line as a farewell every night except the first, when he had an audience. The man definitely made sure James got in as much trouble as possible and, with James doing the work for him and just refusing to let someone else take his punishments, Black was definitely getting his revenge.

James started picking up the rice into the cloth bag. The spell hand’t worked but at least he had managed to gather all the rice in one spot. Hopefully he hand’t missed any grains and he could get this done relatively quickly.

He missed getting more than four hours of sleep a night.

He also missed regular meals, his wand and Sirius. Just being able to talk to Sirius would make this more bearable but as it was he had to content himself with carefully worded letters that just let him know that Sirius was definitely worried about him.

Which wasn’t good because a worried Sirius was an impulsive Sirius and without James to be there to keep an eye on him (or let’s be honest, join him) there was no telling what Sirius would do.

So James had skipped one of the letters to his parents and wrote Remus instead.

Just make sure that mutt of yours doesn’t misbehave. I have a feeling he’s about to chew all the furniture. Keep him on a tight leash.

Okay, so no one ever accused James Potter of being subtle but he needed to make sure Moony understood the seriousness (snort) of the situation. He hand’t gotten Sirius out of the hell that was Grimmauld Place just to watch the git do something stupid that landed back at that place… or in Rowell with him.

James thought about it sometimes, how easier it would be with Sirius by his side (he would have this wandless summoning spell mastered by now) but then he remembered he wound’t wish this hell on anyone (okay, maybe Snape) and that he would actually kill Carwin before he stood back and watched Sirius get whipped.

So definitely good that Sirius wasn’t here and that Moony was Moony and level headed enough to keep his best friend in line.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

* *

“I really don’t want to say this but maybe you are right, Padfoot, and a rescue mission is in order.”

Remus stepped out of the floo holding a letter in his hand and frowning.

Sirius, who was just waking up and still in bed, sat up immediately and snatched the letter from Remus’ hand.

He felt that weight on his chest getting heavier with every work he read. “He’s worried about me.”

“About what you might do,” Remus clarified, “That’s not the bit that worries me, that’s just Prongs being Prongs, but look here,” he pointed a line over Sirius’ shoulder and read it out loud. “I miss my wand sometimes but it’s good that I get to focus my energy in the foundations of magic. I’m learning and getting better.” Remus sighed. “I don’t think he means magical theory.”

Sirius froze. “He’s gonna blow himself up.”

“Padfoot, no need to be so drama—“

“The first time we tried the euclidian focusing wandless magic spell for the animagus transformation he actually blew himself up, well, his hand. Remember the fobbleworm accident? There wasn’t really a fobbleworm accident.”

Remus sat down on Sirius’ bed, stunned. “That was Christmas break, third year. You told me you both fell in a fobbleworm pit and one bit James’ hand off and that’s why he had to stay in St. Mungos for three days!”

“Er… It turns out James has this really strong wandless magic that manifests in explosive ways? Kind of what happens when I’m mad and try for a shield charm.”

Remus visibly shuddered. “Don’t remind me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s going to blow himself up.”

“Or the school. I vote the school.”

“Why is he trying to do wandless magic?” Remus asked and he sounded like he really didn’t want to know the answer.

“I don’t know,” Sirius replied, frustrated. “But it can’t be good.”

“So rescue mission,” Remus said, resigned. “We need to learn more about that place before we even think of doing anything.”

“Yeah, about that…” Sirius bit his lip.

“What did you do, Padfoot?”

“I might have owled Catrina McEnthire. She works in the Prophet now, you know? I might have asked her if she could find anyone who had spent time in Rowell and she might have gotten me a name. I might have an appointment to talk to him this afternoon.”

“Of course you do,” Remus said. “I’m going with you. Prongs doesn’t want you out of my sight and whatever we find or end up doing, we are doing it together.”

Sirius grinned. Really, James… getting Moony to watch Sirius? One would think he didn’t know them at all.