* * * *

D U E L

Press Play.

Words stab him with the sole purpose of quenching his anger. He ignores their meaning; allows for them to pass through, leaving his brain to process the scenario.

He has three options and he opts for the second one.

A hand pulls on his robes. He doesn’t care. Continues to press the tip of his wand into the cheek of the boy he has pressed against the wall.

“Say. It. Again,” he commands.

Whimpering. The boy’s lips tremble. Hyperventilation.

“James.”

He comes to; gently releasing his hold against the portly boy.

Sirius. “It’s not worth it mate, leave him be.”