Chapter 4
”But Professor, you can't-” Magnus protested furiously, throwing his hands into the air and gesticulating wildly. His dark eyes flashed dangerously. Alec didn't know how much he should take this outburst to heart.
But Professor Morgenstern would not be dissuaded. “I can, Mr Bane. There's no point in getting your hopes up.” He began to arrange his files, putting them in a neat pile. Magnus' objection didn't faze him in the slightest. “Look at it this way: I'll compensate you for your trouble, of course. But if you refuse, I'll make sure you don't leave this class without an O.” The rustling of the parchment reminded the Hufflepuff of hissing snakes. Professor Morgenstern conducted himself like a tyrant, reigning over his subjects with an iron fist. Alec didn't quite know how to react. Was there a protocol for situations like this? An appropriate behaviour, when someone who couldn't stand him was forced to tutor him?
Magnus remained silent. His stiff posture, though, radiated tense hostility. The Slytherin's squared shoulders and clenched fists suggested that he would not mind taking a swing at Professor Morgenstern. “All right.” he finally replied, bowing to his teacher's will.
“Very good.” Professor Morgenstern smirked, self-satisfied, and stood up. “Since everything has been settled, you may go. You won't believe it, but even a teacher needs a lunch break. You can work out the details among yourselves. I expect great things from you, Mr Bane. Don't disappoint me.” With these words, he grabbed his bag and disappeared from the room – like a storm cloud carried away by the winds of a thunderstorm.
Once Professor Morgenstern was out of earshot, Alec turned to Magnus. The air in the dungeon suddenly felt much more stifling than it had a few minutes ago. Icy coldness crept beneath the soft fabric of his school uniform, sending shivers down his spine. “I'm so sorry about that.” the Hufflepuff said sheepishly. He tried to force down the blush that threatened to spread from his neck.
“Oh, spare me your apology, Lightwood,” Magnus grumbled, running his hands through his sparkling hair in frustration. This seemed to unnerve him deeply, if he risked ruining his hairdo. “It's hardly your fault this time. Professor Morgenstern can't stand me since first year, despite the fact that I'm one of his best students. Apparently, my blood isn't pure enough for Slytherin. No wonder he's making me tutor you.”
Alec just nodded, dazed, and fumbled with his soiled bandage. He would have to change it soon if he didn't want to risk an infection. But that was beside the point, considering the situation. “You don't have to tutor me if you don't want to,” Alexander uttered, a little uncertain. “Morgenstern never has to find out.”
Magnus's mouth twitched upwards. He could have graced the front page of a fashion magazine easily. Those dark, mysterious eyes, the straight nose, the pronounced jaw: Magnus Bane was a work of art, made to be worshipped. “Didn't think a Hufflepuff had it in him,” he replied with a slight, lopsided grin. “But that would be too noticeable. It'll reflect badly on me if you don't make progress. Maybe I can get you up to speed quickly. That way we can get out of this as fast as possible.”
“All right,” Alec agreed firmly and clasped his arms behind his back. It had become second nature to him to fall into a parade rest, when he was nervous. He was expected to stand up straight when entering his father's office. Now he was grateful for the experience, because Magnus could not see his hands shaking. How was he supposed to stop being useless in such a short time frame? Alec had spent years trying to improve in potions, without much success. “When are you free?” the Hufflepuff asked, pulling his timetable out of his bag. “I have Quidditch on Monday and Friday after school. Wednesday I've got potions club in the greenhouse, so I'll be doing my homework there,” Alec explained, holding out the carefully folded paper for Magnus to see.
“Potions Club, huh? Doesn't seem particularly helpful.” He deliberated for a moment, biting his full lower lip. Damn. This should definitely be forbidden. “Wednesday, I'm free. I'm fairly sure we could meet up here. Professor Morgenstern won't have any objections to that, at least, I don't think so.”
Alec acknowledged the offer with a brief nod. “That should work,” he added, scratching his neck awkwardly. “So, here after school on Wednesday?”
"Yes, and bring your homework,” Magnus confirmed and headed for the door. “See you around, Lightwood.” He strode across the room and left without turning back.
Alexander's posture loosened at once, forcing him to lean on Professor Morgenstern's desk for support. A sigh of relief escaped his lips. Now that all the tension had left his body, he felt as if he had been devoured and regurgitated by a Lethifold. The magical beast, also known as living shroud, encased its sleeping victim a black cloak, which tightened around the body until its victim suffocated. It was not a particularly pleasant thought. His knees seemed to be made of jelly, making it rather difficult for him to stand up. At the prospect of being late for lunch, his stomach protested loudly. So the Hufflepuff surrendered to his fate and shouldered the brown leather satchel.
“It'll be fine,” he assured himself and closed the door behind him. His voice sounded uncertain and strained to his own ears. “It'll be fine.” To his relief, the corridors were fairly empty on this floor. At least he no longer had to wade through a sea of confused first-years. Most of the students had either gathered in the great hall or were taking advantage of the pleasant weather. Occasionally, he encountered a few familiar faces, who preferred to eat their lunch undisturbed in dark corners of the school corridors. Ignoring the wary looks, Alec began the ascent. He almost stepped into one of the trick steps again, but managed to avoid it at the last moment.
Finally arriving in the great hall, Alec was instantly hit by a flurry of noise. The scent of roasted food wafted towards the Hufflepuff and made his mouth water. Alec headed straight for the Gryffindor table, chosen as today's meeting point. On his way, he waved to Underhill. He was letting Lorenzo Rey, a greasy Ravenclaw, help him with his homework. At least that's what he called it. Occasionally, Lorenzo leaned over to Andrew, brushing his hand against him. An amused grin crept across the Hufflepuff's face. Although Alec sometimes found him a little shady, he was sure that Lorenzo harboured a huge crush on Andrew. And who was to say if something was going on between them?
“Hey, Alec!” called Simon in a horribly enthusiastic voice and waved one arm above his head as soon as he spotted Alec. His other arm was wrapped around Isabelle, who was apparently gossiping with Clary. “We are over here!,” the weasel-faced Hufflepuff added. Maybe Alec was being a bit too hard on him. Still, this was his only sister. This guy would have to prove to him that he was trustworthy. Isabelle could undoubtedly take care of herself, but he saw it as his duty to keep any kind of misfortune away from his siblings. Getting along with Clary had also been very difficult for him at first, because she infuriated him with her impulsive and careless attitude. Maintaining his dislike had taken too much energy.
‘’As if I hadn't noticed.‘’ Alec grumbled irritably, finally reaching the Gryffindor table. With a heavy sigh, he plopped down on the bench next to his brother, who was about to wolf down a plate of spaghetti bolognese. A dollop of tomato sauce had gotten caught in a golden lock hanging dangerously low in his bowl. With nimble fingers, he fished the strand out of Jace's lunch and tucked it behind his ear. Alec just chuckled when the Gryffindor shot him a dark look.
“You're late.” Isabelle observed, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow. Her raven hair swept over her shoulders as she propped her chin in the heels of her hands. “Are you alright?” she enquired in a conversational tone. It would have sounded like a polite question to anyone else, but Alec knew his sister like no other. She knew something had happened. Sooner or later she would probably pry the details out of him.
Alec dismissed her with a shrug. “Professor Morgenstern,” he replied as if that answered Isabelle's question. In a way, it did. But of course she wasn't about to give up that easily.
“What has he done this time?” Isabelle asked curiously, giving him a scrutinising look. His resistance melted into a pitiful puddle under his little sister's stern gaze. Triumphantly, she took a hearty bite of her cheese sandwich.
Driven into a corner, Alec's fingers drummed restlessly on the smooth wood of the table. “Well... Actually, to put it that way... I…”He looked around for help, but no one seemed interested in rescuing him. ”Professor Morgenstern assigned me a tutor.”
“And?” Isabelle asked, who apparently had a sixth sense for uncomfortable questions.
“Well, the tutor is…” Alec took a deep breath. “Magnus Bane.”
*****
After an inevitable euphoric fit from Isabelle and a lengthy double period of charms, Alec made his way to the Quidditch field, which he had reserved for the afternoon. Although the tryouts were not scheduled until the following Friday, he couldn't wait to get back on his broom.
Underhill strode along beside him cheerfully, complaining half-heartedly about homework. Which, according to him, was completely pointless. Alec had shouldered his polished Firebolt, the first present from his parents that he truly appreciated. Underhill, on the other hand, swore by his sleek Cleansweep Eleven, considering it his personal lucky charm. His black and yellow tie was crooked and the top buttons of his dress shirt were undone. Without thinking, Alec adjusted his best friend's tie and smiled at the sour expression on his face.
“Stop it!" Andrew complained and crossed his arms, pouting. “It's part of my bad boy look.”
Alec couldn't stop himself from bursting out laughing. "If you say so," he replied grinning and patted the other Hufflepuff on the shoulder. With his friendly face, rosy cheeks and blond curls, he was as far from a bad boy as Alec was from an O in potions. “The way Lorenzo is looking at you, I'd say you have no need of that.”
“You're just jealous,” Underhill huffed, disgruntled, playfully punching Alec's arm. His blue-grey eyes were narrowed in feigned offence. But he couldn't stop the corners of his mouth twitching. Was he blushing? Alec inwardly patted himself on the back, pleased that his suspicions had finally been confirmed.
“Exactly.” Alec admitted and looked down at his friend, who was a good head shorter than him. “I have to say, I've taken a liking to Lorenzo Rey. You'll have to watch out so I don't snatch away your man.” Chuckling, he ruffled Andrew's golden locks, who hadn't reacted quickly enough to stop him.
“Oh, shut up.” Underhill grumbled and raised his chin haughtily, looking even more like a sulking golden retriever. “Just because you're a bloody giant doesn't mean you have to talk down to me.”
“All right, kiddo.” Alec teased, immediately quickening his pace. He was grateful to escape the crowded corridors for a while. The students' voices reflected off the high ceilings, reinforcing the impression of being trapped inside a beehive.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he stepped outside and was greeted by fresh air. Towering walls, crowned by armed statues, surrounded the grounds where the flying lessons took place. A cool breeze ruffled Alec's jet-black hair and gently tugged at Andrew's cloak. Scattered rays of sunlight broke through the grey cloud cover and bathed small patches of the lawn in soft light. To Alec they looked like isolated islands in an ocean of perfectly trimmed grass.
“You know, sometimes I really hate you, Lightwood,” Andrew called after him, barely able to keep up with him. Alec's long legs allowed him to move at an unsettling pace.
“Love you too,” he replied and slowed down a little, allowing Andrew to catch up. By now they had reached the perimeter wall and were stepping through the arched gateway. Alec could already see the goal posts and tribunes of the Quidditch pitch in the distance. A surge of excitement flooded his heart. The familiar flutter spread through his stomach and a smile slowly crept across Alec's face.
“I missed this.” Underhill sighed, eyeing his broom longingly. His fingers carefully ran over the shiny wood as they approached the tribunes, strung with brightly coloured banners, and the changing rooms.
“Me too,” Alec admitted, thinking of the countless hours he had spent wishing that the summer holidays would pass quickly. He had spent a lot of time with his siblings and had even organised one or two Quidditch matches, but the presence of his parents had overshadowed each of his supposedly carefree days.
Underhill nodded sympathetically and raised his hand in greeting when he spotted the other members of the Quidditch team on the field. “My father still looks at me like I'm mad when I tell him I want to fly on a broom,” he confessed. “I think having a wizard for a son is too much for him to handle.” Andrew was muggle-born, his parents the proud owners of a vacuum cleaner company that he was supposed to take over one day. Those plans were ruined by a certain notorious letter, though.
“You can hardly blame him.” Alec said sympathetically and placed a gentle hand on Andrew's shoulder. “It would seem completely mental to me too, if I hadn't grown up with it. Especially if you can't take part yourself.”
Underhill just shrugged and gave Alec a small smile. “Yes, I am well aware of that. There's nothing I can do about it.” He cleared his throat and straightened his collar. “But that's not important right now.” In the distance, the wind swept over the lush grass and rustled through the gnarled branches of the Forbidden Forest. The crisp air whispered in anticipation, as if it were the bearer of a well-kept secret.
Finally, they had reached the rest of their teammates, who had already gathered on the Quidditch field. Adele Nightshade clambered to her feet and beamed at the newcomers. Next to Jordan Kyle, a muscular sixth-year, she looked even smaller than usual. He appeared to have grown a few inches over the summer holidays and was now almost as tall as Alec. Gone was the lanky, awkward teenager who had proven himself at the tryouts two years ago. His bronzed skin and shoulder-length dark hair certainly made many people swoon.
Laid out on the grass in front of them sat a chest made of dark wood, its sides adorned with ornate carvings in the school colours. The brass buckles gleamed in the afternoon light. Alec couldn't wait to open it. Once he let go of his broom, the Firebolt hovered patiently by his side, ready to return him to the skies.
Alec took a deep breath and looked around, his arms clasped behind his back. Seeing the others‘ eager expressions made him a little nervous. While it was easier for him to give confident instructions after years of practice, it usually took him a few weeks to recover from his parents’ influence. “It's good to see you all again,” he began. He could have slapped himself for sounding like someone inviting his grandchildren over for tea. “I hope you all had a pleasant summer.’”
After a collective nod and murmurs of agreement, he continued. “The tryouts are scheduled for this Friday. Since Lucy, Christopher and Thomas graduated last year, we need to find a new beater and two chasers. I would like to take your opinions into consideration, as we will need to form a strong team this year to win the Quidditch Cup. I have done some research over the summer holidays.” Alec winked at them. “Let's just say that I have a pretty good idea of the strengths of the Gryffindor team this year.” Alec had always been a strategic thinker and planner. He knew his siblings well. He knew their flying style, their weak points. “We have an advantage. This year, we will surprise them. Hufflepuff hasn't won the Quidditch Cup in the last five years. I'm sure we can do it. We have to be faster, better, and smarter than the other teams. We will work harder than ever before. If we stick together, we have a very good chance.” Alec could feel the thrill of anticipation shooting through his veins. This year would be different. This year they would win. “Who's with me?’
”Of course we are!” Adele exclaimed immediately, and Jordan and Andrew agreed. His own hope and determination were reflected on their faces.
Alec was overwhelmed with relief to have someone on his side. Maybe it seemed ridiculous: Of course the others wanted to win the Quidditch Cup. Still, it touched him that they trusted him to make the right decisions to lead them to their goal. “I'll announce the training schedule as soon as the tryouts are over. Prepare for some sore muscles. This year, the best is just good enough,” Alec declared, grinning crookedly. He knelt down in front of the box and carefully unlocked it. The heavy lid flipped back silently, revealing the elaborately decorated interior. Today he paid no attention to the golden snitch, which hid behind a small door bearing the Hogwarts crest. He also ignored the two bludgers and freed the dark red Quaffle from its restraints. The sleek leather felt cool and familiar under his slender fingers. ‘I guess that's enough talking for today.’
“Amen!” Underhill joked, his eyes sparkling mischievously.
Alec acknowledged this with a sharp look. He threw the Quaffle at Andrew, who promptly snatched it out of the air. "Butterbeer on me, for whoever takes the Quaffle from him.", he announced. At once, everyone scrambled to mount their brooms, Alec swinging himself onto his Firebolt in a flash. He pushed off hard from the ground and soared skywards. The wind whipped his face and yanked at his black hair as if it wanted to carry him away. But for the first time in months, he was overcome with a wonderful sense of liberation.