Chapter 22
Magnus left the shadows of the corridor when Camille emerged from the Slytherin common room. As always, her entourage was hot on her heels. Alexei de Quincey and Ralf Scott exchanged grim looks as soon as they spotted Magnus. In combination with Camille, their blond hair made them look like members of a ‘70s cult. Both were still under the illusion that they had a chance with her. The presence of the other only made them more determined to be chosen by their queen. Unfortunately, Magnus knew only too well what it felt like to beg for Camille's attention. A condescending smile was enough to make him surrender his heart on a silver platter.
Now that Magnus had finally accepted that her feelings had never been as sincere as his, it was easier for him to face her. The dark eye shadow and the heavy foundation on his neck made him come across as more assertive than he actually was. A tiger had its stripes and Magnus Bane had his eyeliner. He would show no weakness in front of her. He would have preferred to avoid her altogether, but he had to find out what had happened to Alexander.
As soon as Camille noticed him, her red lips curved to an almost imperceptible smile. “Magnus, my love. I've been expecting you.” Impatiently, she shooed Alexei and Ralf towards the grand staircase. “You go ahead. I'll be along shortly.”
The two Slytherins were not pleased with this instruction. But as expected, they obeyed without hesitation. If Camille detested one thing, it was being questioned.
Magnus had to force himself to keep his relaxed composure as Camille strode over to him at a deliberately slow pace. He did his best to maintain a disinterested expression.
Before he could open his mouth, Camille began to speak again. “You're not still upset about that little incident with Alexei, are you?”
“Upset? No. I stopped having feelings for you a long time ago. I've not come here for me,” Magnus replied curtly.
“Oh come on, Magnus. Feelings, love...?” She laughed out loud. “We're still young, much too young to settle down. There's nothing wrong with wanting to have a little fun. I know for a fact that you feel the same. What does the Lightwood boy have to offer besides a pair of broad shoulders and a pretty smile? In twenty years he'll have a receding hairline and a beer belly. Do you really want to tie yourself down like that?”
“I didn't come here to have a conversation about the past and I think I've had enough of your advice.” Magnus sighed deeply. Alexander had rubbed off on him, without a doubt.
The thought of Alexander was enough to make his stomach contract in pain. But Magnus couldn't afford to be distracted now. “Why do I have to find out that you're trying to sabotage my relationship with Alexander? That's really beneath you.”
Camille smiled like a predator, having lured its prey into a dead end after a long chase. “Magnus, Magnus, Magnus.” She twirled a strand of blonde hair around her finger feigning deep thought. ‘“One would think that you would be a tad more polite to me if you wanted something from me. If you ask me nicely, I might tell you.” The cold sparkle in her green eyes took on an almost amused air.
Magnus swallowed his pride. As so often in conversations with Camille, she was trying to unsettle him. As long as she held all the cards, he couldn't hurt her. “I would be most grateful if you could enlighten me as to what you have done.”
Camille pressed her index finger into his chest. “What's the magic word?”
Magnus was impressed by his self-control as he withstood her touch. He would not back down. It was almost amusing to see Camille in her element, making her puppets dance and slowly wrapping her victims in a web of empty threats and promises. But Magnus had learned from his mistakes. Camille wanted to see him grovel at her feet. Magnus would only do what was necessary to coax the information he needed out of her. “Please, Camille.”
“Now that's more like it. Your lover-boy has much worse manners. I don't know how you stand him.” Camille wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“You've been talking to Alexander?” Magnus asked incredulously.
Her eyes lit up. Knowing more than he did filled her with great satisfaction. “He probably didn't tell you. Yesterday he dragged me into a secluded corridor and threatened me. I had to fear for my life.”
Magnus raised a sceptical eyebrow. That really didn't sound like Alexander. However, he had come to know a different side of the Hufflepuff last night. Cold-blooded determination and fierce desperation seemed to flow seamlessly into each other. “And how did this come about?”
She leaned forward as if to tell him the latest gossip from the wizarding world. The heavy scent of vanilla and sweet flowers enveloped him. “Your Alec has some major daddy issues,” she whispered eagerly. “Well, his mother isn't much better. Parent issues, then? He's just so emotionally stunted that he can't suppress his violent fantasies. That's why he attacked me in broad daylight.” She imitated a deeper voice. “You have sullied the honour of the Lightwood name, my son. You are a disgrace to our family.”
“What have you done, Camille?’ Magnus spat out, his anger barely suppressed. The way she spoke of Alexander was enough to make him see red.
“I hardly had to do anything, my dear. A little push was enough to enlighten the honourable Mr Lightwood about the scandalous activities of his firstborn. He was so grateful to me, Magnus,” she purred. “It just wasn't right for Alec to hide you from his parents.”
Robert Lightwood.
A cold shiver ran down his spine. He had been sure just moments before that he had escaped Camille's web. Even now she still had enough power over him to make him feel horribly helpless. “Why would you do such a thing?” Magnus looked at her in disbelief. “They are forcing him to get married. That's going too far, even for you.’
“My plan worked out even better than I thought.” She shrugged indifferently. “Don't look so glum, Magnus. I actually did you a big favour. Believe me, it wouldn't have ended well for you if Robert Lightwood had found out about you later. I had to convince him that you have no long-term interest in his son. Otherwise, he would certainly have gotten rid of you long ago. The man is completely insane.”
Magnus could not find the right words to express his mounting rage. So he remained silent, gritted his teeth and stared at Camille in disbelief. He could feel a surge of wild, destructive energy at his fingertips, just waiting to be released. Part of him wanted to give in to his instincts, but Camille wanted him to lose control. He would not give her that satisfaction. He dug his nails into the soft skin of his palms with determination. He couldn't give up now.
“Oh, come on, Magnus. You're better off without him anyway. You could show some appreciation for me saving your future.” Camille took another step towards him. She tilted her head back slightly, locking eyes with him. Her lips were blood red, one of her favourite colours. “Stop this nonsense and come back to me. I'm bored without you. You're the only one who ever understood me. I never needed anyone. But I miss you.” She sounded almost sincere. It was only when she raised her hand to pull him forward that he realised what she was about to do.
Magnus staggered back in panic. He crashed into the dungeon wall, but that was the least of his problems. She couldn't be serious. After everything she had done to him, to Alexander? Did she seriously think he would give her another chance? “Perhaps I wasn't clear enough earlier: keep your hands off me! And if you don't leave Alexander alone, I won't be so forgiving.”
Camille clicked her tongue in contempt. “So many empty threats. We both know that you wouldn't have the heart to hurt me. But I have no problem waiting for you to come to your senses. You know where to find me.” With a triumphant smile, she left Magnus standing, trembling, in the dark corridor.
Only now did Magnus realise that he had made a huge mistake. He had underestimated Camille. Again. And even worse, he had let Alexander fall into her trap without realising. Perhaps he could have warned him if he hadn't been so wrapped up in his own problems. Magnus tore at his hair in frustration. A glistening shimmer remained where he wiped his hands on his trouser leg. It was time to bring in the big guns.
*****
Alec knew that they were all trying to give him space. As if his problems would magically disappear in a few days. He snorted in annoyance. Maybe his words to Isabelle and Jace had been too harsh, that much he acknowledged. But the worried looks they had been giving him for days were starting to drive him mad. Even Andrew had begun to eye him with concern.
He had finally managed to get hold of a few bottles of dreamless sleep potion. Since he couldn't ask Magnus to brew him some and the hospital wing would ask too many questions, he had to resort to other sources. Despite his steady improvement, brewing the potion himself was far too risky. Being poisoned was the last thing he needed right now.
It turned out that there were quite a few people at Hogwarts who sold self-brewed potions on the side. One of them was Helen Blackthorn, a Hufflepuff a year below him. He was sure she would keep his secret. There was something reassuring about her friendly smile. Recently she had made her relationship with Aline Penhallow official. The realisation that others found happiness where he longed for it, hurt. Maybe one day...
Andrew kicked him hard in the ankle. He just managed to stifle a surprised yelp as a sharp pain shot through his leg. “Alec,” hissed Andrew between his teeth. “What unforgivable curses are there?” He tilted his head in the direction of Professor Starkweather.
Merlin, he hadn't even noticed that almost half the class had passed. The empty parchment in front of him looked back at him accusingly. He hadn't even taken any notes. Instead, his mind was circling around totally irrelevant topics. Why was it so hard for him to stay focused lately?
Still half absorbed in his thoughts, Alec glanced up at his teacher, who was watching him with anticipation. Fortunately, he had internalised most of the subject matter in his preparation for the N.E.W.T.'s. So it didn't take him long to catch up. “The Imperius Curse, the Cruciatus Curse and the Killing Curse, Sir.”
“Very good, Mr Lightwood. I was starting to think my class was boring you.” Professor Starkweather examined him through his rectangular glasses. Alec's blood rushed to his cheeks immediately. He could feel the curious glances of the entire class on his skin. He had probably stared blankly into space for the first half of the lesson. Compared to his usual participation, his behaviour was very unusual. “Can you also tell me since when the Ministry of Magic has classified these curses as unforgivable?”
This was the moment when the long evenings in the library paid off, brooding over his notes with deep concentration. An O in Defence Against the Dark Arts didn't just fall from the sky. “1717. Ten years after the Ministry was founded,” he answered, feeling confident.
“Five points to Hufflepuff.” Professor Starkweather nodded contentedly and used his wand to direct the chalk, recording the key dates on the board. “You may wonder why we are dealing with the Unforgivable Curses at all, when they are obviously not taught at Hogwarts. In the previous part of the lesson, we looked at a variety of dark magic that can have similarly devastating effects . A well-placed Lacero or Impulsum can be just as deadly as the Killing Curse.” He absently stroked the scarred skin of his cheek. “Somnum Exterreri induces extreme fear and despair, which in many cases leads to suicide. There are a number of curses that can and have been used for torture, but I don't want to dwell on those now. Now, I wonder why we only chose these three curses as unforgivable?”
Professor Starkweather let his gaze wander over his pupils, his hands on the wooden desk. No one moved. No one seemed to quite know what he was getting at. “Go on, there are no wrong answers.”
A tall Gryffindor girl hesitantly raised her hand. “Because they would need greater intent?”
“That's a good guess,” Professor Starkweather confirmed encouragingly. “If you all aimed your wands at me, I doubt you'd be able to cause much more than a slight nosebleed with the killing curse. At least, not before I returned your marked essays.” A general chuckle ran through the classroom. “But I'm trying to get at something else. In most textbooks and legal texts, you will be able to read that to carry out one of the unforgivable curses, one needs to derive an almost sadistic pleasure from the pain of another person. As you all know, a certain mental focus is necessary for all spells. So this is more of a philosophical question, as to what is considered…”
Cold dread began to settle in Alec's stomach, slowly seeping up through his ribcage. He had already known that his mother had wanted to hurt him in a moment of blind rage. He had realised a while ago that it couldn't have been an accident. But to be told so bluntly what she had felt then, still felt like a punch to the gut.
Could he forgive something unforgivable?
Was it even relevant what he could do, when his future was already set in stone? Alec would have to learn to live with it, like so many things before.
And Max...
His gaze slid to the hands of the clock on the wall, seemingly in constant motion. Thank Merlin, Professor Starkweather continued his monologue on the philosophical implications of unforgivable curses, a monotonous drone in Alec's ears.
Cold sweat caused the fabric of his shirt to cling to his skin. He tried to loosen his collar without attracting too much attention. He wouldn't have to hold out much longer. Just a few more minutes and he could get out of the classroom. No matter how much he shifted his weight on the chair, the stifling feeling just wouldn't go away.
Andrew's warm hand settled on his forearm. Instinctively, Alec flinched, his heart almost bursting in his chest.
At once, Andrew withdrew his hand, an unreadable expression on his round face. “Are you alright, Alec?” he whispered urgently. “You look like you're about to faint. Would you like me to take you to the infirmary?”
“I'll be alright,” Alec forced out. “I just didn't eat enough.” A very poor excuse. After all, Andrew had been sitting next to him at breakfast. Although Alec hadn't had much of an appetite lately, he knew he had to keep his strength up. Not just for Quidditch, but also to survive the next few months.
Andrew shot a sceptical glance at him. “If you're not better by the end of the lesson, we'll go and see Madam Ross. Even if I have to tow you behind me.” He hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to add something, but then remained silent.
Alec knew there was no point in arguing with him. When Andrew had made up his mind, he was not to be dissuaded. Alec tried to compose himself, to regulate his heartbeat. He forced himself to breathe in a calm and even rhythm. He almost succeeded.
But then Professor Starkweather started talking about the mental and physical consequences of unforgivable curses. Alec just had to hold out for another five minutes. He just needed to get his act together. It was almost impossible for him to tune out his teacher's words. He couldn't help but listen in.
“There is a segment in the training of Aurors that deals specifically with the Unforgivable Curses.” He cleared his throat. “It is not widely known, but it is possible to resist the Imperius Curse. However, it takes a lot of practice and a strong will. Once the Cruciatus Curse has been cast, there is no way to counter it. There are some techniques for distraction that are taught. But anyone who has experienced it will tell you that there is no worse pain. With prolonged use, psychological and physical damage is more or less inevitable. Even with short-term exposure, the subject should be observed in the hospital for a few days. Many physical complications such as heart defects or nerve damage can only manifest themselves later.” Professor Starkweather looked at his watch and clapped his hands. “I'll let you off a little earlier today. We'll pick up where we left off next week. Before you leave, come to my desk to collect your assignments.”
Alec's hands felt stiff and clumsy as he tightened the lid on his inkwell and put away his quill. By the time he'd packed his books into his bag, most of the room had already emptied.
Andrew stood next to him, arms crossed, his light eyebrows drawn together in a frown. His eyes remained fixed on Alec the whole time.
Alec didn't say a word as he pushed past him and made his way to the teacher's desk. His knees felt unstable, the way they did after a particularly exhausting workout.
“Mr Lightwood.” Professor Starkweather pulled a parchment scroll out of his stack. With a fatherly smile, he handed him his essay. “Excellent. As always.” If Alec hadn't known better, he thought he saw something like guilt flash in the professor's grey eyes. “Stay here for a moment, please, I have something I want to discuss with you.” He smoothed his tweed suit and gave Andrew a knowing look. “Mr Underhill, you're welcome to wait outside. I shouldn't be long.”
Reluctantly, Andrew took his essay and left the room. Not, of course, without another worried glance over his shoulder before he closed the heavy door behind him.
Once they were alone, his teacher slumped down a little. It was barely noticeable, but his otherwise upright posture now seemed exhausted. The scar on his cheek stood out more than usual against his pale skin. “How are you?”
“Um...fine?” Alec paused. Did he really look so terrible that his teacher was worried? “Is that why you wanted to see me? There's a lot to be done for the exams, but I've got it all under control.”
“You don't have to lie to me.” Professor Starkweather sighed deeply and ran his hands through his greying hair. “It's obvious that our topic today has stirred up a lot of emotions for you. I don't talk about this often, but in a previous life, I was an auror. I know the signs all too well.”
The feeling of unease in his stomach immediately turned into a deafening alarm. “It's really nothing. I'm fine.” He tightened his grip on the strap of his satchel in desperation.
Professor Starkweather smiled wearily. “They've told you, haven't they?”
Alec's breath caught in his throat. “What are you talking about?”
“You see, I was on duty that night. I know what happened to your brother.”