The Curse of Mahglin, Part 2

It was late June 2010. The sky above was heavy with clouds, but the rain had yet to fall. Tall buildings on either side cast deep shadows over Knockturn Alley. The narrow alleyway seemed devoid of life. Professor Gregor strode down the cobblestone street, looking neither left nor right, heading swiftly towards his intended destination.

Eyes watched him from store windows. A hostile, suspicious aura pulsed towards him from all sides. He did not belong here. Gregor represented Authority, Progress, and all that was good and proper. The denizens of Knockturn Alley preferred privacy, independence, and devotion to the ancient occult.

Gregor stopped at the door of a storefront. The marquee, a carved wooden sign with painted letters that were badly faded, read Book Shoppe. He opened the door and was greeted by conflicting sensations: the musty smell of old books, as warm and welcoming as a library; and the cold dread that emanated in warning from Dark Magic artifacts.

The shopkeeper, thinning hair, wire rimmed glasses, gazed at Gregor with a cold, shrewd glare before greeting him with deference and surprise. “Professor! What do I owe the honour?”

“Good afternoon,” said Gregor, solemnly. “I am looking for a book.”

“I am pleased to be of service. What can I help you find?”

“I’m looking for a Dark Magic book called Wicked Vengeance.”

The shopkeeper laughed a soft, malevolent cackle. “Wicked Vengeance is a rare book. Quite out of the fashion, you might say. I may be able to track down one of the later editions for you.”

“I’m not interested in buying it,” said Gregor. “I wish to confiscate it. From a student,” he added, seeing the look of alarm on the shopkeeper’s face.

“A student. Intriguing.” The shopkeeper’s smile became wide and thin. “Incidentally, that’s how this particular book came to be. It was a student project – unauthorized, of course. These were Hogwarts students, Seventh-Year Slytherins, I believe. The Class of 1925 if I’m not mistaken. They did not invent any of the curses in their book. They merely collected them from older sources.

“One member of the group was a talented artist. He illustrated the effects the curses were to have on their victims. The book was an underground success in the 30’s and 40’s, but it has been out of print for several decades now. Many found the pictures and the curses to be, shall we say, in poor taste.

“I did here a rumour that the illustrator is still alive, having prolonged his life through some unnatural means. A horcrux, I suppose. The others of course are long dead, it being over a hundred years since their birth.

“The printed books pay homage to their origins as a student project. It looks very much like a leather-bound notebook, for that is where these intrepid boys collected their curses. It will have black leather, unadorned, no writing on cover or spine. Only when you open it do you see the frontispiece and the words, Wicked Vengeance.”

Gregor felt a chill ran down his spine. It was one of Dennison’s notebooks!

The shopkeeper continued. “The books that were mass-produced had black and white illustrations. A few of the original manuscripts, however, have colour illustrations, hand painted by the artist himself. Those editions are exceedingly rare and incredibly valuable.”

“Indeed. Thank you. You have been most helpful.”

Gregor turned to the door when the shopkeeper called out to him. “Professor! If you happen to confiscate one of the editions with colour illustrations … I would be willing to make a generous donation to the school fund ….” Greed lit the man’s eyes. His desire was palpable.

Gregor smiled and nodded. “I will take that under advisement.” He swept from the store and strode back up the shadowy street.

He was now deeply troubled. The book was right there on the stone floor, in front of McGonagall and the prefects. Had I been there, would I have spotted it? Early in the Autumn Term, Dennison had bragged to some First-Year boys that he knew some Dark Magic. Gregor had arranged a two-prong attack against Dennison, hoping to catch the boy with a Dark Magic book or artifact.

Gregor’s team had raided Dennison’s dorm room, while McGonagall and some prefects searched his school bag. The prefects found three black leather notebooks in Dennison’s bag, but they only inspected one of them. Wicked Vengeance had been right there, and they had missed it.

Gregor assumed Dennison had stolen an ornate book or scroll from his father’s collection. Only after Dennison’s attack on Gillian Roycester did Gregor discover what book Dennison had stolen.

Two Hufflepuff prefects, Lara Guishar and Liam Wren, had performed first aid on Roycester and managed to exorcise the curse, but what they described matched no curse Gregor had ever studied – an intense magical cold that targeted Roycester’s genitals.

When he researched the symptoms in The Encyclopedia of Dark Magic, he found an entry, The Frigidity Curse, and a reference to the book Wicked Vengeance.

Gregor had spent the last few weeks researching. He reviewed the Dennison’s security measures, as they were recorded by the Ministry of Magic. Gregor found them to be adequate but hardly impenetrable. It should have been enough to deter a Third-Year boy, but it is not inconceivable that Reginald could have undone the protective spells, stolen the book and re-established the measures. He had very good marks last year, particularly in Arithmancy. He was both capable and motivated enough to defeat the traps and steal the book.

Gregor had also researched the book itself. Much of what the shopkeeper told him he already knew. (He too had heard the rumour that the illustrator was kept alive by use of a horcrux.) The curses collected in Wicked Vengeance chilled him to the bone. Out of fashion … in poor taste … Indeed!

There were 24 curses in Wicked Vengeance, and they were vicious, cruel beyond Gregor’s darkest imagining. The curses had little or no effect on men, but female victims faced disfiguration and lasting physical and psychological pain. Many despaired and died shortly after being cursed. It was the worst sort of misogyny, a deep hatred Gregor struggled to comprehend.

Only good luck had saved Roycester. Dennison, a young and inexperienced wizard, had cast too weak a curse; the prefects had stumbled upon just the right remedy and quickly exorcised it. Gregor feared that, if Dennison attacked another girl, she would not be so lucky.

None of the notes in the encyclopedia had told him what Wicket Vengeance looked like. Gregor found a brief reference to it in another book, Misogyny in Slytherin Culture. The author described it as “a narrow and unobtrusive volume.”

The author had only seen black and white illustrations, but she described them as depraved, obscene. A male colleague had to hold Wicked Vengeance open for her, for they had been warned that a woman could be cursed by merely touching the book.

Gregor did not know an edition with colour illustrations existed. But the shopkeeper knew. How much did the man guess? There are only so many families who might possess such a book, and fewer still with children at Hogwarts. A man like that would make it his business to know who owned which valuable collectibles. Was he thinking of the Dennisons when he guessed that the book in question had colour illustrations?

Colour pictures were much more likely to catch and hold a young boy’s eye, mused Gregor. How those drawings must have twisted young Reginald’s mind, giving sustenance to the seeds of misogyny planted there by his father, grandfather and uncles!

Gregor was convinced that Dennison had hidden the book somewhere in the castle. Now, at last, Gregor knew what to look for. I must find this book before more harm is done by it. Before he curses another girl! Before a girl finds it, touches it innocently, and comes to violent harm!

There was one more interview he needed to conduct prior to organising his search party. He needed to travel to the small village of Druid’s Grove, to speak with Aiden Thompson.

He arrived at the Thompsons just before four o’clock in the afternoon. The mother, Genevieve, answered the door. “Professor! How nice to see you. Please come in. May I get you some tea?”

“Tea would be much appreciated, madam.”

“What brings you to Druid’s Gove?”

“I wish to speak to your son about a few things. Is there a space where he and I could meet privately?”

“Of course. Gerald is in town this afternoon. Why don’t you two meet in his study. Aiden! Come downstairs, please.”

Aiden was already at the bottom step, his hand on the banister rail. “Hello Professor,” he said, “What can we do for you?” The boy’s voice was calm but there was nervousness and unease in his eyes.

“Good afternoon, Aiden,” said Gregor, amiably. “Are you enjoying your summer break?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your mother was going to bring us some tea. She suggested you and I could talk in your father’s study.”

Aiden nodded. “This way.”

Aiden led the professor down a hallway and through a door to a small, wood-paneled room. It looked to be at once an office and a library. There was a desk, cluttered with papers, with a rolling desk chair. Several bookcases stood against the walls, full to the brim with books stacked every which way, so that some volumes peeked out from behind others. The hardwood floor was dark and freshly waxed so that it shined.

Between two of the bookcases was a small sofa covered with a wool tweed, a mix of greens and browns. Professor Gregor sat down on the sofa. The voices of Genevieve and the older daughter, Sadie, carried down the hallway.

“Why is Professor Gregor here? Aiden’s not in trouble, is he?”

“Of course not!” said Genevieve. “Why would you think so?”

“Why else would a Deputy Headmaster make house calls?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing of the sort.”

Aiden sat down in the desk chair. He looked indeed like a child who expected to be punished. “I think we can dispel that question straight away,” said Gregor firmly. “I am not here to dole out punishments or criticisms, Thompson, but I do need to speak to you. I thought a home visit would be more private. It is so difficult to have private conversations at school, especially around other Slytherins. We are an inquisitive house, are we not? Especially around one another.”

At this, Aiden raised his head and smiled. Genevieve entered with a cup of tea and a plate of cookies with pink frosting on them. Gregor sipped at the tea but left the cookies alone. He set down his cup and said, “As I’m sure you have guessed, I am here to speak to you about the attack on Gillian Roycester.”

Aiden’s cheeks flushed, and anger swept across it like a flash of lightning. “I didn’t have anything to do with it,” said Aiden. “Frankly, I’m furious about it.”

Gregor surveyed the boy a moment before continuing. “I have traced the curse Dennison used against Roycester to a Dark Magic book called Wicked Vengeance. This is a small, thin leather-bound book with some illustrations inside. Have you seen a book like that in Dennison’s possession?”

“No, sir. He never showed it to me. What Carter or Jones might know, I don’t know, but I never saw it. But I know this: Dennison used to read something at night with his curtains closed. Damned thing gave off an aura like a cold windy day. Chilled me to the bone.”

“Dark Magic books sometimes give off strong auras. I need to find this book.”

Aiden shook his head. “He hid it.”

“When? Where?”

“I don’t know where. Remember that really foggy day? It was a Hogsmeade weekend. Calais had Dennison under surveillance, but he gave them the slip. He and Carter disappeared into the fog. Wouldn’t say where they went. All we knew was that their pant legs were wet when they got back. After that, I never caught him reading. I never felt that dark cold again.”

“He must have returned to the school and hidden the book when there were few about to see him.”

“Are you sure he went all the way back to school?” asked Aiden. “What about the pant legs? He must have crossed a field or something. Is there someplace outside the castle where he could have hidden it?”

“Hogwarts is the safest place for a book like that. If he tried to hide it somewhere in Hogsmeade, he would have lost it for sure. Another wizard would have found it, drawn to the very magical spells he used to hide it.”

Gregor gazed steadily at Aiden and said, “Was there any particular reason Dennison attacked Gillian Roycester?”

“It’s my fault,” said Aiden, despondently.

“It is most assuredly not your fault,” said Gregor, kindly. “But please, continue.”

Aiden winced and turned his head towards the window. He looked to be on the verge of tears. “Jill and Sadie are friends. She’s here a lot. I . . . I guess I have a crush on her. Anyway, one time I smiled at her and she smiled back. And Dennison saw it and questioned me about it. I think he attacked her out of spite, because I like her.”

“Rest assured; she has come to no harm. She has completely recovered.”

Aiden snapped his head towards Gregor, his face pinched with anger. “Yeah, but he meant to hurt her. I swear to God, I will get him back for this.”

Gregor took another sip of tea while he considered how best to respond to the boy’s threat. “Some believe,” he began cautiously, “that the fulfillment of revenge is the so-called ‘a-ha’ moment. The moment when your opponent realizes that you are the source of all his misfortune. In reality, that moment is typically only the beginning of a long series of attacks and retaliations, a cycle that can span generations.

“The best revenge, in practice, is the one that is never discovered. There is no ‘a-ha’ moment. Your role in the misfortune, your motivations, must remain hidden. There is no climax – the sense of satisfaction must be derived from small moments spread out over many years. This method is subtle and slow, but it is by far the safest and most effective course of action.”

“I understand, sir. I promise not to do anything too rash.”

“Very good. Now, I must take my leave.” Aiden led him back to the entryway. Genevieve and Sadie came out from the kitchen. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Thompson.”

“Think nothing of it, Professor. It was our pleasure.”

“I may be borrowing both of your children in a few weeks. Before the next school term begins, I have a project for some of my most trusted students.” This made Genevieve beam with pride.

After Gregor left, Sadie asked Aiden, “What did Gregor want?”

“He thinks Dennison used a Dark Magic spell to attack Jill. He wants to find the book that it came from. I think Dennison stashed it someplace during a Hogsmeade trip. He wants to organize a group to go looking for it later this summer.”

“I hope I find it. If I do, I’ll burn it,” said Sadie.

You’re not the only one, thought Aiden. “He says Jill is better. She’s fully recovered.”

“That’s good,” said Sadie. A shadow crossed over her face, and she looked away.

“Do you think she’ll be around this summer?”

“I don’t know,” said Sadie. “We’re really not talking at the moment.”

Sadie turned and went up the stairs. Aiden watched her go. What’s going on between Sadie and Jill? he wondered. They’re best friends!