Chapter 13
“Excellent work, as always, Mr Lightwood.” Professor Starkweather nodded in approval after having skimmed Alec's essay with a trained eye. When he pushed the sheets of parchment across the smooth surface of the oak desk, they rustled softly. “Your knowledge of disillusionment charms is very advanced. I'm impressed.” A fatherly smile spread across the professor's face. His weather-beaten skin tightened, making the silver scar more prominent than usual. “You have a bright future ahead of you, I'm sure.”
“Thank you, sir,” Alexander said with visible relief. He forced himself to release the tight grip on the armrests of the chair and wiped his damp palms on his trouser legs. As the chilled fog seeped through the cracked window, he shivered, longing for the warmth of the banquet in the great hall.
His muscles ached with weariness, his thoughts sluggish. He had spent the entire Sunday in the library, trying desperately to catch up on his homework and readings. Despite the throbbing headache that had plagued him since the victory party after the Quidditch game, he had dragged himself out of bed in the early hours of the morning. It seemed that his efforts had at least paid off in the defence against Dark Arts.
Professor Starkweather adjusted his rectangular glasses and gave Alexander a piercing look. His grey eyes bore an intensity that Alec had never seen before. Though it couldn't have lasted more than a few seconds, it felt like an eternity to him. With a heavy sigh, Professor Starkweather cleared his throat and rose from his seat. Instead of his usual tweed suit, he wore a formal dark brown robe the seams of which were embroidered with ancient runes.
Alec got up as well and had almost reached the door as a hand settled on his shoulder. Startled, Alec jerked away from the touch. A sinking feeling spread in his stomach.
“Did I ever tell you that I was very good friends with your parents when I was at school? I see a lot of your mother in you. The same ambition, the same unwavering loyalty. Take care that it does not become your undoing. Hogwarts is not as safe as you might think. Keep your eyes open.”
Alec felt his breath catch in his throat, his stomach clenching as the room seemed to constrict around them. “Thank you for your advice, Professor,” he managed, surprised at the confidence in his voice.
A smile played around Starkweather's lips, but his eyes remained vigilant and cold. Almost as if he had peered into his soul revealing all his darkest secrets. A shiver ran down his spine.
“Don't let me keep you. These are just the words of a bitter old man. Enjoy the feast in the great hall.” With these words, Professor Stalkweater reached around his student, holding the door for him. “Take care, Mr Lightwood. It would be a shame if you didn't use your potential.”
Even after the Hufflepuff had left the second-floor office far behind him, his thoughts still revolved around his professor's mysterious words. What did all this mean? Was Professor Starkweather in contact with his parents? But that wouldn't make sense. Why else would he have warned Alec? His mind swam with looming thoughts, threatening to overwhelm him. He paused briefly, leaning against the wooden banister of the deserted staircase, exhausted. Most of the others would have gathered in the great hall by now.
I see a lot of your mother in you. The same ambition, the same unwavering loyalty. Take care that it does not become your undoing.
The words pierced him like a knife through the back. He hated being compared to his mother so overtly, even more so by a teacher whom he had come to trust. But of course only few people knew how his parents carried on behind the scenes, when the façade of a perfect family no longer needed to be upheld. Not even his siblings were aware of the full extent. For as long as it was in Alec's control, it would remain that way. At least he could relieve them of this burden as their big brother.
For the moment, all he could do was wait and see. Perhaps his mother had only asked Professor Starkweather to keep an eye on her son to prevent further academic missteps. If his parents had something to criticise him for, he would surely find out soon. After all, they never missed an opportunity to let him know.
“Alexander.” His mother's voice was thick with disappointment. “Another Acceptable in Potions? Why do we even send you to school if you never improve?” She sighed, giving her son a stern look. “Your father and I have discussed it and hired a tutor for the summer holidays.I don't care what you have to do, even if you have to spend every minute studying in your room. You will improve. We will knock some sense into you yet."
Realising that he couldn't afford to lose himself in his worries, Alec hurried down the stairs to the great hall, leaping over several steps with each stride. When he finally reached the bottom, his pulse was racing. An uncomfortable warmth had settled under the skin, small beads of sweat running down his forehead. He would have to add a few more hours to his training schedule.
Ahead of him, he noticed other tardy students scurrying through the open door. Instead of floating candles, enormous glowing pumpkins illuminated the ancient walls, casting a dim light on the rows of students gathered at the tables. The enchanted ceiling showed the night sky, shrouded in mist, the occasional bat gliding by. An expectant silence lay over the room. All eyes rested on headmaster Fell, who was about to initiate the festivities.
Quietly, Alexander crept through the great hall, letting himself slump onto his usual seat next to Andrew. His eyes immediately scanned the Slytherin table for Magnus, but to his disappointment, he couldn't spot him anywhere. Alec was a little surprised to discover that Pangborn was wearing a heavy wool cap, which he adjusted every few seconds. If looks could kill, the goblet in front of him would have most certainly detonated.
For the second time that day, a hand was placed on his shoulder. Alec stiffened at the unexpected touch, his mouth going dry.
“Don't worry, Alexander,” whispered a now all-too-familiar voice. “It's only me. Didn't mean to startle you like that.” Magnus slid into the gap between Simon and Alec before crossing his long legs casually. A slight tingle spread along the spot where their legs touched. “I thought I'd join you today. The mood at the Slytherin table is a bit tense.”
Alec shot him a questioning glance. “What did you do?” Magnus' eyelids glistened in a dark orange tone, matching the occasion and perfectly accentuating the shade of his eyes. The Slytherin lowered his eyelashes whilst maintaining an innocent expression. “A gentleman never reveals his trade secrets, Alexander. Surely you know that by now.”
Professor Fell had just finished his speech and clapped his hands enthusiastically. ‘Let the feast begin. Enjoy, everyone. The long wooden tables in the great hall were instantly laden with all manner of food and drink. The house-elves had truly outdone themselves this year. Sweets and pastries piled up in pumpkins and cauldrons, exuding a heavenly scent. A large tin of Shepherd's pie had appeared right in front of Alec, its golden crust crackling enticingly as Simon scooped a large portion onto his plate.
Alec turned his attention back to Magnus. “You won't get away with this, Bane. You forget that Jace is my brother. I know for a fact that you are up to something. And you –” He pointed his finger at Andrew, who immediately bowed his head in shame. “You had a hand in it, too. Don't try to lie to me, it's no use.”
Magnus raised his hands in defence, winking conspiratorially at Alec. “Easy there, Mr Detective. No need to launch an interrogation.” He leaned over to Alec, his lips almost touching Alexander's ear. His warm breath brushed across Alec's skin, sending electric shockwaves through his nervous system. “There may have been a potion in Pangborn's shampoo to touch up his hair colour a little.”
“And every time he tries to dye his hair back, it'll get worse,” Andrew readily interjected, his initial embarrassment having now completely evaporated.
“I'm pretty sure Pangborn has guessed as much. But don't worry, I can take care of myself.” Magnus leaned back, relaxed, but not without planting a quick kiss on Alec's cheek. Neither of them noticed the faint click nearby.
The Hufflepuff eyed them both in resignation. “I told you to stay out of it. It's no use. And I don't want anything to happen to you. I've definitely heard more original insults than Emil Pangborn's.”
“But he really had it coming, Alec,” Underhill protested, genuinely outraged. “We can't just stand by and watch someone talk about you like that. I think we did the world a favour.”
“And besides, the effect only lasts for two or three days. So there's no lasting damage done.” Magnus explained, stroking Alexander's shoulder reassuringly. “Nothing to worry about, darling.”
“Merlin, give me strength.” Alec muttered, shaking his head. A small smile stole onto his lips. He had never been good at staying angry at his family for long. “You're really impossible: Because of you, I'II end up going grey soon.”
Magnus grinned, shoving a gooey toffee into his mouth. “I've always had a thing for a silver fox.”
*****
The pale dawn of the early morning hours crept through the thin crack between the heavy velvet curtains. Otherwise, the spacious room was illuminated only by the embers of the fireplace and the fading light of an antique candelabra at the edge of the desk. Robert Lightwood let himself sink into his leather armchair, feeling the fatigue deep in his bones.
The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures held a meeting well into the early hours of the morning regarding a series of mysterious werewolf attacks. They had at last begun to consider his demands for stricter regulations. It wouldn't be long before they were eating out of his hand, he was sure of it. A few galleons in the right pockets could go a long way.
Despite the leaden heaviness in his limbs, his work for today was not yet done. Bradley had left the mail on a silver platter for his master, true to form. He flipped through some business documents and petitions with little interest until he came across an unassuming white envelope. Written in a hasty hand, it was addressed to Robert Lightwood, like the last time. His tiredness vanished in an instant. Robert's heart quickened and a vein in his temple began to throb. How long could he stand by and watch before Alexander utterly lost his mind? It was time someone set that boy straight.
“What has my wayward son gotten himself into now?” he murmured to himself, opening the letter with a snarl. A single black and white photograph fell onto the tabletop.
*****
November arrived with a mountain of homework and a steady, sluggish downpour that transformed Hogwarts' green lawn into a muddy quagmire. So Alec had to spend his spare time in the library or at quidditch training. When he stumbled into the dark common room late at night and dragged himself to his bed, he wondered how he would survive the rest of the school year.
Outside of potions class and his tutoring sessions, he hardly saw Magnus at all. He appeared to be just as ambitious as Alec and had set his mind on passing his N.E.W.T.s with straight Outstandings . He was rarely seen without a stack of heavy textbooks, his expression one of intense focus. Not that Alec could blame him; after all, he had set himself the same goal. To be accepted as an Auror, he would need to have a flawless academic record.
The bags under his eyes darkened, the nights grew shorter, and soon he was only keeping his head above water with coffee and stamina potions from Magnus. He ignored Andrews' and Simon's worried looks.
When Underhill finally took him aside and insisted that Alec accompany him to Hogsmeade the next weekend to go Christmas shopping, he couldn't refuse. He definitely deserved a little break after the last few weeks. And resisting Andrew was not one of his strong suits.
*****
“Look, Alec.” Andrew pointed at a miserable heap of withered stalks, wilting on the frozen ground. “That's grass, in case you've forgotten what it looks like.” They had fallen a little behind the crowd of students, eagerly rushing towards the cheerfully decorated wizarding village.
“Really? I thought that was your herbology homework,” Alec muttered half-heartedly and pulled his cloak tighter to shield himself from the cold. “I'm fine by the way, thank you for asking!”
Andrew merely raised a mocking eyebrow. Alec, being the adult he was, stuck out his tongue. He made a sweeping hand movement: “As you can see, I'm still alive, and that's all that matters. I can sleep when I'm dead.”
“If you keep this up, you won't have to wait much longer. And believe me, if you die on me now, I'll personally make sure that a colony of spiders moves into your grave,” the Hufflepuff threatened, wagging his index finger in warning.
Alec put his hand to his chest, feigning shock. “How dare you? Betrayed by my best friend, and I thought I could trust you. I will haunt you as a ghost for the rest of your life.”
“I don't mind. At least then I won't be alone,” Andrew replied with a satisfied grin. He pushed his blue wool cap farther down so only the ends of his blonde curls were visible. The temperature had dropped rapidly in the last few days, causing their breath to form white trails in front of them.
Alec couldn't help but grin back. He felt much more at ease with himself than he had in a while. He hadn't spent time with Andrew in far too long. “I'm honoured.”
They finally entered the winding cobblestone street that nestled against the quaint sandstone cottages and small shops with colourfully decorated facades. The bare trees were draped with strings of enchanted lanterns, the doors hung with wreaths of holly.
The first snow could not be far off, judging by the thin layer of frost on the rooftops. The streets were bustling with students and locals, all eager to soak up the festive atmosphere. Warm light and loud voices poured out of the open door of the Three Broomsticks. A large pint of butterbeer would certainly hit the spot right now.
When Andrew noticed his wistful look, he gave him a consoling pat on the shoulder. “Work before pleasure. We still have a lot to do. We didn't come here for fun, remember. Christmas shopping is a serious undertaking.”
Alec couldn't help but agree with him as they pushed their way through the tightly packed shelves of the Honey Pot, always careful to avoid elbows and stray shopping bags. Even the irresistible scent of chocolate, caramel toffees and homemade fudge couldn't distract Alec from the relentless crowds.
The stuffy, warm air left a hoarse scratchiness in his throat as he began to sweat under his thick cloak. Why on earth did he subject himself to this every year? He glanced over his shoulder to check that Andrew was momentarily distracted and bought a large bag of his favourite fudge flavour, dark chocolate with raspberry. Alec could still remember the blissful expression on his best friend's face when they had discovered it on their first trip to Hogsmeade during their third year.
After a detour to Gladrags Wizardwear and Spintwitch's Sporting Needs, he had purchased a broom polishing kit for Jace and a pair of hideous socks for Simon that sang off-key Christmas carols when they got wet. In a dusty corner of Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop , he even found a watercolour palette for Clary. Jace's redheaded girlfriend tested his patience more often than not, but he didn't want her to feel like she wasn't part of the family.
He had picked up a book for Isabelle from Flourish & Blotts over the summer: Muggle Cooking: A Course for Beginners . He only hoped that his sister would refrain from killing him. But he didn't want to risk another omelette with the consistency of mucus. Some of his tension dissolved as he slipped a tin of premium salmon for the Chairman into his shopping bag. Only one more present to go.
It was already growing dark when Alexander and Andrew stepped back onto the street. Soon the Thestral-drawn carriages would be returning to Hogwarts. A quiet panic rose in him. His mouth felt dry all of a sudden and the fabric of his turtleneck felt rough against his sweaty skin. What could he get Magnus? It had to be something special, something that expressed his feelings. Nothing he had seen so far seemed good enough. What do you give to someone like Magnus Bane?
“Alec, I can hear your wheels turning from here. Could you maybe try thinking a little more quietly?” Despite his words, Andrew's voice was gentle. “Magnus would be delighted with any gift you get for him. I bought Lorenzo a mug with a funny lizard picture on it. Don't put yourself under too much pressure.”
Alec sighed, nervously running a hand through his windswept hair. “But I want it to be perfect for him, Andrew. Magnus...he's really important to me.”
Andrew's face took on a determined expression. He grabbed his best friend's arm and pulled him towards a tiny shop whose dark blue facade was embellished with silver vines. “Don't worry. I promise we'll find something for Magnus. Trust me, I'm an expert in this kind of thing.”
The tinkling of the doorbell tore Alec out of his gloomy thoughts and he stepped across the uneven doorstep. The gleam of polished gold and silver assured the Hufflepuff that they had come to the right place.
*****
Exhausted, Alec collapsed onto the worn leather seat of the carriage. The rapidly approaching darkness was accompanied by piercing cold, creeping through the seams of the windows and door. Even the leathery wings of the Thestrals were covered with a thin layer of frost. Rubbing his numb hands together, the Hufflepuff shuddered.
He took a quick look into his shopping bag to make sure that Magnus‘ present was still in the right place. He could only hope that the contents of the small velvet bag suited Magnus’ taste. “Thank you for making me come with you, Andrew. I don't know what I would do without you,” Alec said, a timid smile on his lips.
Andrew was about to respond, when the door opened just a crack. None other than Raphael Santiago poked his head into the carriage and nodded satisfied.
“Just who I was looking for, Lightwood. I'm sure you don't mind if I join you.” Without waiting for an answer, Raphael closed the creaking door behind him. A green wool cap covered most of his black curls, drawn low on his forehead.
The carriage started to move, rocking gently as the Slytherin sat down next to Alec. Despite his small stature, Raphael radiated more authority than many adults Alec had met. His face seemed almost indifferent, but his dark eyes were fixated on Alec.
“What do you have planned for tomorrow?” Raphael asked in a monotone voice.
Alec looked at the Slytherin, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“What...do...you...have...planned...for...tomorrow?” Raphael repeated slowly and with exaggerated clarity. He raised his eyebrows mockingly. “Don't tell me you haven't made any preparations?”
“Ermm…” Alec said, trying to come up with something, but to no avail. He shot Andrew a pleading look, but he just shrugged. It seemed he was on his own. “Could you please tell me what's going on tomorrow?”
“You really haven't got a clue, have you? Dios mío! ” Raphael sighed, annoyed, and looked up as if asking the heavens for patience. “I thought someone like you would remember such things, Lightwood. You seem like the type. It's Magnus’ birthday tomorrow and Lily is planning a surprise party for him. He always says not to make a big deal about it, but you know him. When has Magnus ever been able to say no to a party? And just so you know, I'm not here of my own free will. Lily forced me to talk to you.”
Alec's jaw dropped as he stared at Raphael, his mouth agape. He was so stunned that no sound passed his lips.
Magnus's birthday was tomorrow.
Magnus's birthday was TOMORROW.
MAGNUS'S BIRTHDAY WAS TOMORROW.
He had given it no real thought before now. Magnus had never mentioned it, but neither had he asked. The date was etched into his mind once and for all, at this very moment. He would certainly not make that mistake again. Cold sweat formed on Alec's brow, his cheeks burning with shame.
“Lightwood?” Raphael snapped his fingers in front of Alec's face. “Are you still in there? The last thing I need is a medical emergency.”
“I think you broke him, Santiago,” Andrew interjected, looking concerned.
“I..Magnus..tomorrow?” Alec stammered, trying to remember how to breathe. The Hufflepuff cleared his throat in panic. “This is the first time I've been told about this.” There was a distinct note of desperation in his words.
He had bought a Christmas present for Magnus today, but it would feel wrong to use it for any other purpose. How was it possible that he failed every time he set out to do something? Couldn't he get just one thing right? A horrible feeling of guilt and doubt welled up inside him leaving him with a lump in his throat. How would Magnus react when he found out that Alec had forgotten his birthday?
Raphael leaned his head against the carriage's wooden panel, lost in thought. “Magnus must have forgotten to mention it, typical. Can you bake, Lightwood?”
Alec scratched the back of his neck absentmindedly. He still hadn't recovered from his shock. “Depends. Not very well, I guess.”
Andrew suppressed a giggle. He could just about conceal his laughter under a feigned cough. Raphael shot him an icy look and Underhill fell silent at once. “We could do with a pie. Magnus loves apple pie."
Alec couldn't manage more than a silent nod. He had never been particularly talented in the culinary arts, but if he asked the house-elves for a recipe, he was sure he could come up with an edible apple pie. He squared his shoulders and sat up straight. He would make the best of this situation. He would bake the absolutely best birthday pie Magnus had ever seen.
“Very well, then I'll see you tomorrow at 11 o'clock in front of the Slytherin common room. Be on time, I won't wait a second longer than necessary.” It seemed that the conversation had ended for Raphael, as he extracted a book from his bag and began to read.
*****
After a moment's thought, Alec raised his arm to tickle the pear on the still life that hid the entrance to the kitchen. A moment later, a green door knob appeared in its place, which Alec pushed down immediately. The painting swung to the side, revealing a vast room that mirrored the great hall above. The four long wooden tables for the houses and the teacher's table were polished to a shine, glistening in the light of the innumerable candles.
The dinner must have been served some time ago, as the worktops and stoves had been cleaned already. Piles of drying pots, pans and plates were stacked against the walls. The massive brick fireplace above the entrance was also dying down. Alec promptly felt bad about interrupting the house-elves' time off.
Since Ragnor Fell had taken up the post of headmaster, they had been paid the same wages as all the other staff. Alec's parents had been on the verge of instigating a revolt when the headmaster had introduced work uniforms and thus the freedom of the house-elves of Hogwarts. They had even formed a Union that went on strike, when they wanted their pay to be raised. Due to the regulations of the Ministry, they were still not allowed to carry a wand, but Alec hoped that this was only a matter of time. The argument that house-elves did not want rights for themselves and preferred a life in the service of pure-blood families was barbaric, yet still common in the Lightwood household.
As soon as Alec entered the room, dozens of tennis ball-sized eyes looked up at him. A small figure in a white jacket and matching apron hurried towards him. “Alec, my boy, how nice to see you again. Look at you, the time flies. I could swear you grew a few centimetres during the summer holidays.” Toppie's excited, high-pitched voice filled him with a sense of warmth that he had missed in the last few months. Especially in his first year at school, when his siblings had not yet been to Hogwarts, he had often snuck into the school kitchen to escape the disapproving glances of his classmates.
Alec smiled apologetically. “I'm sorry I didn't come by sooner. Unfortunately, this time, I am not here for tea. I need to ask a favour of you.“ He cleared his throat. ”How do I bake a pie without burning it?’
Toppie let out a cackle and looked at him with mischief in her eyes. “You, baking a pie? I never thought I'd live to see the day... Don't worry, my boy, you're in the right hands. Unlike your sister, there's still hope for you.” She pointed at a row of aprons hanging on hooks on the wall. “Put one on.”
Alec saluted crisply. “Yes, ma’ am.” Making a pie for Magnus couldn’t be that difficult.
*****
Later, when Alec snuck into the common room, exhausted and covered in flour, albeit in possession of a homemade apple pie, he couldn't help but feel proud of himself.