Darcy Prince was every bully’s wet dream. Avery had known this with his head for basically as long as he had known the Princes. He’d seen it from the moment he’d laid eyes on the kid, as a three year old, crying over a scraped knee. He was quiet, shy, and cried easily, had enough of a spine to resist bullying just long enough to whet a sadist’s appetite before cracking. Avery knew that the boy was stronger than he looked, and a kind person whose company he actually enjoyed well enough, but an easy target was an easy target. Only thing was he’d never been around Darcy when the kid was being bullied before. He’d never seen them during school, or for that matter at any time besides vacations.
So he hadn’t been fully prepared the first time he’d seen signs Darcy was getting bullied. He recognized it instantly, the fake smile, the near tears, the tenderness in places only people couldn’t see, the excuses. Although he said nothing to Stella about these observations, the minute he noticed them, he put Darcy under watch, and by Darcy’s second month in school, the thirteen year old caught sight of it in progress.
A few boys were working together, verbally and physically picking on the Prince boy. One made a move to hex Darcy, but Avery appeared in front of it and deflected the spell with a quick swish of his wand and a whispered Protego. The other kids didn’t know who this upperclassman was, but they also happened not to care, since Avery was only a few inches taller, was skinny, and was smiling politely as if he had not just deflected a harmful spell from a kid he cared very much about. One of them opened his mouth as if to say something, but then the smile dropped off of Avery’s face. It didn’t turn into a scowl, a frown, or a glare. It turned into an expression of cold apathy, the dangerous expression of someone willing to cut down anything in his way without hesitation. It was the first time Avery had ever made that face, and quite honestly he wasn’t aware of it, either. He pocketed his wand calmly and said, “Please turn around and step away, now.” His words were quiet, but they somehow reverberated through the hallway, each word precise and distinct.
One of the bullies grit his teeth and lifted his wand to yell a spell, thinking Avery wouldn’t be a threat since he had put his wand away. In a display of sheer violence Darcy is quite convinced Sebastian would have loved to see (and therefore must never encounter), Avery darted forward easily dodging the clumsy spell, grabbed the boy’s wand hand with both of his own, and with a sharp flash of movement snapped the boy’s wrist. The kid howled in pain, tears bubbling out of his eyes, collapsing onto his knees. Avery stood there, looming coldly, waiting until the brat had quieted his blubbering just enough to make his next words land clear, and this time he did speak loudly. Loudly enough that no one present could claim they hadn’t heard the warning. “If any of you touch Darcy Prince again, I will break every bone in your body.” He didn’t bother saying anything more. He didn’t bother looking menacing, or even sticking around to make sure nothing further happened. He turned around and walked away, his point made in full. Darcy has never been bullied since. But though Darcy has always been protected by his other two siblings, and had always thought they were stronger than the Trevelyan boy, that moment imprinted on his mind. He had seen a different side of Avery, a cool ferocity that instantly made him aware that his fellow Slytherin was more dangerous than either of the other Prince’s could ever be. And though he has never told anyone about it, Stella and Sebastian included, he has also never dared forget it.