Theft of the Forbidden Book
Chapter One:
Theft of the Forbidden Book
Reginald Dennison stood in his father’s study, in front of the book case. His face reflected in the glass showed a young boy with light brown hair and keen dark eyes. On the other side of the glass was the forbidden book, just inches from his face. It sat wedged between larger, more ornate volumes, a narrow strip of black leather. There were no letters on the spine proclaiming author or title. It was anonymous save for a thin crack in the spine.
Covering the bookcase was a glass case with delicate French doors which opened with slender wooden pulls. It looked like such an easy thing to open the doors and take the book, but Reginald knew stealing this book would not be a simple task.
He had been planning for this moment all summer. He had studied the routine of his parents and his House-elf to select a day and time when he would have this room entirely to himself. At his feet were crucial items he purchased during a recent trip to Diagon Alley: his Introduction to Arithmantic Concepts textbook; a red and white striped funnel; and a leather-bound student notebook.
A shiver of anticipation ran through him. In his mind’s eye, he could see the pictures in the forbidden book. There were several hand drawn pictures, all of naked women, all with expressions of anguish and pain. It had been the pictures that first drew his attention. Years ago, he had come to his father’s study when no one was around, and he discovered the book. As a young boy, the pictures held no fascination for him. They had repulsed and embarrassed him. Yet, he remembered them, and when he was twelve, after his first year at Hogwarts, he had come to the study and taken the book.
He had looked at all the pictures in his room and then showed it to Jason Carter. Then, his father had come home and discovered the theft. His father was furious with him, and for the first time in his life Reginald had been spanked. After that, his father had set some magical defenses around the bookcase.
The spanking was not enough to deter him. Reginald only redoubled his efforts. He would have this book, and this time, his father would not know he had stolen it.
Father never looks at these books, Reginald reasoned. He only wants them because they’re rare collectibles. He wouldn’t look at this book anyway. Mum wouldn’t like all those pictures.
Months passed however, before Reginald had a revelation. Those drawings are only illustrations. It’s the writing that’s important. Those are spells. Powerful Dark Magic curses.
I’ll never learn Dark Magic from anyone at Hogwarts. No one is going to teach it to me, so I’m going to teach myself. And I’m starting with this book.
I’m not going to be just any normal boy. I’m going to become the Dark Lord Mahglin.
He had found the name in his Ancient History of Wizards textbook. Mahglin was a fearsome and dreaded wizard. He was so hated and reviled that no other wizard over the centuries had claimed his title. Reginald was determined to rise to the challenge and become the new Lord Mahglin.
For Reginald’s first two years at Hogwarts, he had kept his title a secret known only to his closest associates. He was eager to learn some Dark Magic, so he could reveal his ambitions, daunt his enemies and gather followers to his side.
Reaching out, he gave the glass door’s pull a gentle tug. The door stayed closed. Drawing his wand, he tried “Alohomora!” As expected, the lock held. His father’s defenses would not be defeated by such a simple spell. Reginald preferred it this way. The greater the challenge, the greater his sense of accomplishment would be.
Squatting down on the den’s glossy hardwood floor, Reginald opened his Introduction to Arithmantic Concepts textbook to a section about three-quarters of the way in. There was a challenge activity set in a red box in the corner of page 254: How to reveal an arithmantic lock. He reviewed the instructions once more, then stood and faced the bookcase.
With a stern, commanding voice, he called out the incantation. A blue shimmer crossed over the glass doors. Then, shining faintly white, some numbers and symbols appeared: 6 / 3 * 1. It was an arithmantic expression. Reginald would have to solve it with no help and no training, with just his book to guide him.
Since obtaining his Arithmancy textbook, Reginald had pored over the early chapters learning the basics about the magical powers of numbers. With care and concentration, he deciphered the expression. Six was a volatile, ethereal number that could be concentrated down into a potent Three. He was then to add a forceful, dominant One. The result would be a delicate 4, accompanied by a burst of magical energy which would release the lock on the cabinet.
Six was a tricky number to conjure, whereas Three was featured in one of the book’s early lessons. Why do I have to start with Six and then go to Three? he wondered. Why don’t I just start with Three?
He tried it that way first. He summoned a Three and then tried to mix in the One. The cabinet stayed locked. After repeated attempts, he cast a reveal spell and saw that in the end, he had conjured a Seven. The force of magic was too potent.
It can’t be that hard to conjure a Six, he reasoned. When Reginald had told his mother about his elective choices, she had said, “Don’t ask your father for help in Arithmancy. That was his worst subject.” If Dad is terrible at Arithmancy, he’s not going to pick a combination that’s difficult or complicated. He loves showing these books off to his friends. He wouldn’t want to embarrass himself by being unable to open the cabinet.
Still, without tutoring and with only the textbook to guide him, conjuring a Six was a trial. It would hover in the air for only a moment, dissipating before he could concentrate it down into a Three. A quarter of an hour passed before he managed to make one that he could sustain long enough to concentrate it.
The resulting Three was quite different. It shimmered yellow-orange in the air in front of him, full of latent magical energies. As gently as he could, Reginald added the One. There was a sudden flash of light. The yellow-orange aura became lavender. With a click, the lock on the cabinet released.
His eyes wide, his hands trembling with anticipation, Reginald gave a gentle pull on the cabinet door. It swung open. He bent down and took the red and white striped cone into his left hand.
Over the Christmas Holidays, Reginald’s father had entertained some guests. He had shown off his collection of Dark Magic books, and one of the men had asked to see one - not the slender, plain leather volume Reginald coveted, but one of the larger books with an ornate brown and gold cover.
As his father lifted the book off the shelf, the cabinet had let out a shriek, as if it had been stabbed. The House-Elf, Hiccup, had come running into the room. Reginald’s father laughed it off. “Just a bit of security,” he told his guests.
If I grab one of these books now, Hiccup will come running in here. I’ll be caught and punished. He’ll double the security on the cabinet and I’ll never get this book.
He grinned in satisfaction. That’s what the cone is for.
During his trip to Diagon Alley, after his books and school supplies were purchased, Reginald had begged his mother to take him to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezees. The store was garish and cluttered with magical pranks and toys. Reginald’s mother tuttered her tongue about how the Weasley’s were Muggle-loving Blood Traitors, but Reginald was undeterred. The Weasley’s magical toys were top notch. Reginald had purchased some Peruvian Darkness powder, invisible ink and the red cone - the Cone of Silence.
Reginald reached into the cabinet with his right hand and carefully pried the slim leather volume from its spot on the shelf. As expected, the cabinet let out a scream, but the sound was quickly sucked into the cone. Reginald listened for the frantic patter of the House-Elf’s feet, but he heard nothing. The cone had done its job.
Reginald picked up the leather-bound notebook, lying on the floor beside him. He held it side by side with the forbidden book. The two were remarkably similar: the same dimensions, the same soft black leather cover, roughly the same number of pages. There had been gold foil writing on the notebook cover and spine, but Reginald had removed it magically.
There was even a narrow yellow crack in the notebook that corresponded directly to the one in the forbidden book. This had taken repeated attempts. Every time he had placed the crack in the wrong spot, he had had to repair the book and try again. Finally, he set it in just the right place.
With care, Reginald slipped the imposter notebook onto the bookshelf right where the forbidden book had been. It fit perfectly into the space. Gently, he closed the cabinet.
A final challenge: he had to re-engage the arithmantic lock. The instructions were in his textbook, in a challenge box towards the back of the volume. Again, it took more than one attempt. Finally, he heard the lock slide into place. Reginald cast the reveal spell to verify that the arithmantic expression had not changed.
This last task done, he gathered up his things. He even cast a bit of shiny wax on the spot where he was standing to wipe away his footprints. Dad will never know I was here.
He stole quickly up to his room and closed the door. Anticipation filled him. His throat was so tight he could hardly breathe. With care, he turned over the plain black leather cover to reveal the frontispiece, the title in ornate calligraphy: Wicked Vengeance, Curses upon Unfaithful Women.
Reginald made a slow survey of each full colour illustration, reveling in their sadism and obscenities. Finally, he turned his attention to his true object - the curses themselves. Each had a detailed description of what each spell did, the incantation and wand motions required, as well as the intent and mind-set needed to cast the most potent curse.
A few days later, Reginald led his friend Jason Carter across the wide lawn at the back of the Dennison’s estate. It was a startlingly warm day. The sky was clear and blue, and the sun high and bright. As they walked, Reginald said, “We’re going to have to do better this school year, keeping up with our homework. I can’t have Stainton sitting on me like he did last year. Every time he did that, Thompson snuck away for a secret meeting.”
“I heard he has a crush on Claire Quillan,” said Jason.
“That’s a ruse,” said Reginald confidently. “I think he was using that time to meet with Calais, to get instructions and to tell him all our secrets. We can’t have that this year. We’ll need to be on our guard. I have big plans that I don’t want meddled or disrupted.”
They reached a grove of trees at the very edge of the property. There was a shed that Reginald used as a fort. The shed had a heavy wooden door and two windows for ventilation. Inside, there were two chairs, a bookcase and a chest for Reginald’s toys. The wooden floor was covered in a dull brown, industrial strength carpet.
Reginald lifted the toy chest, which had long been stripped of his childhood toys. There, beneath some comic books and magazines was a soft leather pouch. Reginald pulled the pouch out of the chest and held it out for Jason to see.
“Check it out,” he said. Out of the pouch, he drew the forbidden book.
Jason recognized it immediately. “You took it again? You’re going to get in trouble!”
Reginald shook his head. “Dad doesn’t even know I stole it. No one knows, except you. I covered my tracks very well.” With a sly smile, he opened the book. “You wanna take a look?”
“Sure,” said Jason, blushing. The two boys gazed at the pictures for several minutes. Jason was the first to look away. “Man, those pictures are sick.”
Reginald closed the book. He had a smug look on his face. “The pictures are one thing. It’s the words that are the most important. It’s Dark Magic, and I’m learning it.”
“What? Are you going to do all that evil stuff to girls?”
“I doubt I’ll really need to. But they need to know that I can do it if I choose to.”
“How do you know if you are even doing the spell right? It’s not like you can practice. Who are you going to curse? Your mum?”
Reginald shot him a warning look. “Follow me,” he said solemnly. The two boys went outside. A grey rain was falling, but under the trees there was some shelter. Reginald pointed. There on the ground was a squirrel, curled into a ball. Reginald kicked it and it flipped over, as stiff as if it were plastic.
“It’s dead?” asked Jason. “You cursed it and it died?”
“Yes. So you see, I do get my practise in.”
Jason’s face went pale, then slightly green. He pulled in a deep breath to keep from vomiting. “But you wouldn’t use this spell on a girl at school, right?” he asked nervously. “Not on someone like Alyssa.”
“Not on Alyssa, no. Someday, Alyssa will understand that I’ve become very powerful, and that it is in her best interest to do as I say. For now, I’m being patient with her. But Mudbloods and Blood Traitors should beware. Lord Mahglin is growing in power.”
“Maybe we should try one of these on Thompson, just to see what it does!” laughed Jason. “He’s such a traitor. He deserves it.”
“Or on Took,” said Reginald, darkly. Benedict Took was his main rival for Alyssa’s affections.
“Or Patrick Wren,” suggested Jason. “That smug Mudblood has it coming.” The two boys laughed, and Jason began to relax. He truly did not believe that Reginald would ever cast one of those horrible curses on a girl from school.