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Post by Alex Kameren on Jun 26, 2011 1:24:40 GMT -5
It was a missive with many different connotations. Nothing came without strings of some kind, and to Alex, the message that his father was ill in Azkaban came with plenty of strings attached. Emotions, memories, things he’d thought long buried or gone. More recent events, fire that traced its path in his skin, his father cringing and vanishing as the blood curse rebounded. Madness that tainted the Kameren line.
He arrived at the wizarding prison by floo, not trusting Apparition after his recent mishap. He emerged in the small, cramped atrium. It was clearly designed for function, not beauty as the one at the Ministry. Alex had been here rarely. He brought the criminals in to the ministry-- he tried to avoid Azkaban. Fortunately, there was no shortage of other aurors and hitwizards willing to provide the final escort.
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Post by Curse Kameren on Jun 26, 2011 15:13:47 GMT -5
Warden Ezekiel Black sat in his quarters inside Azkaban, an old lantern flickering on the table next to him. He was an ancient man, having watched over the prison and its prisoners for nearly a century. Time passed by him: three wars, generations of witches and wizards living and losing their lives, all under his watchful gaze. Ezekiel watched as his own family thrived, then fell. Today, he was serving another family as old as his own. They were the end of an era, the very last. Cedric Kameren and his son were the last purebloods of their line. History of that magnitude deserved Ezekiel's attention, and Cedric's last request. The old wizard turned his leathery face to the doorway as he heard the Atrium's fire roar. Their visitor had come. Ezekiel bunched up his warm robes, taking his walking stick in hand as he moved to greet the young wizard. Alecsander Kameren, though to most he was a great auror, he was only a child in old Warden Black's eyes. "Detective Kameren." Black rasped in curt greeting, holding up his lantern as he looked up at the taller wizard. All of the Kamerens looked the same, with their green eyes and tall, sturdy builds. They had always been that way, for generations. Black had known Alecsander's grandfather, and his great-grandfather before him. "The night is cold, we'll need the patronus to keep us safe. The Dementors have been restless, in light of these new demons." Black tapped his walking stick on the ground, a great white light emerging from the contact. that light manifested into a lion, standing dutifully next to its ancient master as the man shuffled towards the entrance to the cells of Azkaban. As the two wizards moved towards the brick hallways of the prison, the pain could be felt of the inhabitants. It wasn't the dementors, as they had been banished by the patroni. No, it was the inmates, their moans and screams for freedom, their pleads and threats towards Black as he stalked past them. But Black was nearly a prisoner himself, standing watch over the darkest souls of their world. "Cedric has been very ill of late, but has refused to be moved to the infirmary cells. If he doesn't move, he will not survive. We have determined that he wishes to die. He has requested your presence as his last wish." Black spoke plainly as he stepped ahead of the younger wizard, finally coming to a stop at the cell in question: The cell of inmate number 22541 and 22542, Cedric Kameren. A gaunt face poked up from the darkness into the light of the patroni, but didn't speak. Wide, grey eyes looked the two men up and down, his eyes lingering on Alex. This man was 22541, Cedric's cellmate. "You're looking for granda'," He said simply, his words as hollow as his eyes. The strange man cocked his head over, a grimy hand pushing at the other body in the cell, curled up on the floor in the far corner. "Granda', wake up. Oi." "Fuck off, Weston," The deep, once commanding voice of Cedric Kameren was now faint, a shudder going through the man at Weston's touch. He hated the nickname Weston had given him. Word had reached even Azkaban that Cedric's bastard son had fathered a bastard of his own. A pureblood wizard couldn't be more proud. Cedric buried his head in his robes, rolling back over apparently without noticing the men behind the bars. "Cedric." Black called to the prisoner. Cedric looked up from his robes, flinching at the light of the patroni and the Warden's lamp. Being locked away in Azkaban meant most men would never see the light again, until their time came and the ancient Warden granted them their very last request, their only freedom. He didn't bother trying to sit up; he knew he couldn't, he was near death and far too weak. His murky eyes examined the figure the Warden had with him, his eyes falling on the young wizard's patronus. It was the figure of a young man he had seen in many memories, one he had cried out for in his darkest hours under the Dementors. Cedric's mouth fell open, a tear escaping him and falling down his dirtied face. "A-Alecsander."
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Post by Alex Kameren on Jun 26, 2011 16:01:28 GMT -5
"Detective Kameren."
“Warden.” Alex greeted the old man respectfully. Warden Black had been here a lifetime, and beyond. Hid away up here, far away from most of the Wizarding world, he was a forgotten relic, a remnant of times gone past, the living emblem of an old family name that had nearly died out. Nearly, but for this one wizened old man.
"The night is cold, we'll need the patronus to keep us safe. The Dementors have been restless, in light of these new demons."
Alex summoned his own patronus, the large raven flew above the men’s heads, throwing the shadows of light in crazy shapes around them. Alex limped slightly on his new foot, the hesitation so slight as to be unnoticeable to all but him. Soon, the limp would go away. He hoped. That was what he had been told, at least.
"You're looking for granda'," He said simply, his words as hollow as his eyes. The strange man cocked his head over, a grimy hand pushing at the other body in the cell, curled up on the floor in the far corner. "Granda', wake up. Oi."
"Fuck off, Weston,"
It was a voice that was familiar to Alex, and at the same time, unfamiliar. The man had raised him, and he looked at his early years through the rosy eyes of childhood. Then he had been a prisoner, and he had renounced his own family, turning away as his father was tried for murder and kidnapping. The Kameren insanity.
They had duelled once, in his early days as an auror. He had sent Cedric back to prison, doing his best to ignore the man he’d once nearly idolized. How naïve children can be.
"A-Alecsander."
Alecsander stepped closer to the bars, his eyes on Cedric’s face. He felt hollow. “I came.”
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Post by Curse Kameren on Jun 26, 2011 22:37:40 GMT -5
A smile broke across Cedric's face as his son came closer. It had been so long since he had had good memories, but they came flooding back now. His boy was here. Before, he had been naive, stupid. Azkaban made him realize what he'd missed. Alecsander was his only family he had left, and he had taken him for granted his whole life. Living in his foulest memories, Cedric knew that now. It was too late. "Thank you." The elder Kameren tried to push himself up but once again failed. His strength had long since left him, but he wished he still had it. He wanted to be up, eye-to-eye with his son like he could be. He hadn't seen him in years, since Alex was the one to lock him back up. The scar along his shoulder seemed to twinge at the thought. "I..." Cedric tried to say something, his mind drifting off as he spoke. He had fallen into a memory, the night in the alley where Alecsander had caught him. It wasn't his son that fired the spell that scarred him, it was Cedric. He had attacked him, the Kameren blood curses working their magic to make sure Cedric knew the mistake he'd made. His breathing grew ragged as he got lost, his hand clutching at his shoulder as if the cut were new. The ragged breathing turned suddenly to coughing, forcing Cedric out of the memory as the coughs wracked his body. When it finally subsided he laid back, exhausted from the episode. He wiped blood away from his lips, his hollow green eyes staring straight at the roof of the cell. "I'm dying."
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Post by Alex Kameren on Jul 5, 2011 11:35:56 GMT -5
Alex’s gaze was fixed on Cedric’s face. It never failed, despite his self-determined hatred for the man, he always felt some sort of pity for him, some remnants of his old love and respect. For a moment his face lightened, his expression and posture became more open. He almost smiled when Cedric thanked him for coming. Almost. He caught himself, and the crack he had shown in his armour closed, he stared at the pitiful man laying on the floor and saw him as he had for the last decade. Nothing special. No one to look up to.
Alex had conditioned himself pretty well.
"I..." […] "I'm dying."
“So I can see.” Alex said dryly, his voice clipped. He turned to the warden. “May I have a moment alone with Cedric, sir?” He looked back at Cedric, his gaze measuring. "He'll be here when you return."
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Post by Curse Kameren on Jul 7, 2011 8:12:52 GMT -5
The statement of Cedric's death was less for Alex's benefit than Cedric's. Nothing changed in Azkkaban, besides the prisoners; the prison itself was stoic, unchanged for hundreds of years, but the prisoners inside deteriorated and wore away. Cedric didn't realize now was his time; he called for Alecsander because he always called for Alecsander. The change was that now Alecsander had come.
The warden had given Cedric his last request.
The small group stood still in the loneliness of the prison, Cedric squinting into the light of Black's patronus. His son was here, like some sort of angel of death. The fulfillment of his wish meant the end of his life was near. What was he supposed to say?
“May I have a moment alone with Cedric, sir? He'll be here when you return."
The ancient Warden's pale eyes took measure of the Kameren child before him. There was much to the young wizard, Ezekiel could tell. There was a nostalgia, a longing for an old happiness long since lost. That nostalgia was restrained, however, by a determined justice. HIs sense of right and wrong dulled what affection he may have had for the man behind the bars, no matter what their connection. Alecsander Kameren had his mother's moral compass. Ah, Rosaline. She was a Black, Ezekiel's great-grand niece. Her vindications were notorious, and they showed through in her son. Funny how the children of a generation would show the triumphs and failures of their parents before them.
Alecsander Kameren could be trusted. He would not set his father free.
The Warden nodded slowly, leaving the wizards to their discussion with a toss of his robes, his patronus fading out behind him. A silence fell after the Warden's departure, Cedric's emerald eyes observing his son closely. He had been in Azkaban most of Alecsander's life; beyond their duel, he had never experienced his adult son before.
"Weston! You useless lump, help me up!" Cedric mimicked the voice of his late cousin Draco, ordering his cellmate around. Weston obliged with a whimper; the man had been bullied by the disgraceful Malfloy son in school, but the scarring moments still haunted Weston in his Dementor's dreams. Weston letting Cedric know this was a mistake; the most important thing about Azkaban was keeping your weaknesses safe, lest they be exploited by the other inmates. Unfortunately for Cedric, his main weakness had been an inmate, briefly. Weston helped pull the dying wizard up by the shoulder, leaning him stiffly against the opposite wall, facing his son. Cedric didn't speak, just sat upright with his hands folded in his lap. He watched his son, his face blank as he took the younger wizard in.
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Post by Alex Kameren on Jul 23, 2011 2:17:08 GMT -5
"Weston! You useless lump, help me up!"
Alecsander’s lip twisted in a smirk as he recognized his father’s tactic. Playing on another’s fears and insecurities, a strategy that invoked the Kameren superiority. It was amazing what a few simple words could do. He arched a brow at his father, unintentionally speaking a little slowly.
“Well, Cedric? What is it?” I know you didn’t call me out here for old time’s sake. There’s no such thing. We-- us. Our family. There is no old times. We’re not happy, and we’re not a family. Both stopped a long time ago. Why couldn’t you just accept what you had?
He moved marginally closer to the bars, his patronus swooping down the hall, chasing off a dementor that got too close. They would find that even though the Warden was absent, they wouldn’t find easy prey here. Not while Alex was able to lift his wand.
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Post by Curse Kameren on Jul 23, 2011 11:03:01 GMT -5
Cedric took his time, studying his son. Though he looked like a Kameren, someone who knew Rosaline could see a lot of her in their son, much more than Cedric. Alecsander was Cedric's only in looks. Hardly even that, as the boy became a man and Azkaban took its toll on Cedric. Was this even his son he was looking at? He couldn't tell any longer. The Alecsander he knew was only a child. Alecsander used to trust him. They used to be family, before the accident with Rosaline. The older man's face darkened at the thought: it was all the bastard's fault. The fall of the Kameren Bloodline was on his shoulders, not Cedric's.
“Well, Cedric? What is it?”
That was a good question. It was difficult for Cedric to keep his mind on any one thing, he had been lost to the prison so long. It was almost painful, how clear his mind was with the boy's patronus chasing the dementors away. He coughed again, this time briefly. He wiped the blood off his sleeve; it wouldn't be long now. He opened his mouth and let his words come without thinking about them. For this one dark wizard, Azkaban had actually done what it was intended. At the end of his life, after long years in prison, Cedric was repentant of his crime. He had been repentant since the beginning, but no one would believe him. No one believed him now either.
"I loved your mother," He rasped, meeting his son's eyes evenly. He wondered how this would affect Alecsander, finally getting an apology and an explanation after so many long years. How many years had it been? They blurred together in the prison. "I loved her very much. It didn't look like it at times, but I did. I never meant to hurt her, that night was a terrible accident." Cedric's usually authoritative frown turned to one of true sorrow. He had had to repeatedly live through the scene of killing his wife, see where he went wrong, what he could have done to save the woman he had once loved. He couldn't close his eyes without seeing her face. Now he shrank under the same judgmental glare of Rosaline's child. "She found the muggle woman and confronted me about it. I... I panicked." He looked down at his hands, the scene playing out in his mind as he spoke of it. Even now, it overwhelmed him.
"I failed you, Alecsander. I failed Rosaline. I failed my duty as head of the Kameren bloodline." Cedric brought himself out of the fog and straightened, setting his jaw. This conclusion had taken him all of his life in Azkaban to reach, and took all his strength to admit now. He wouldn't have a second chance to speak it. "I hope, with time, you realize your duties and complete them more readily than I did. You are a Kameren. The very last."
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Post by Alex Kameren on Aug 2, 2011 22:43:34 GMT -5
"I loved your mother,"
Alex met his father’s eyes evenly, trying not to give the man a window into the turmoil within. He’d often been weak enough to dream of this as a child. An apology would fix things, and the ministry would release his father and they’d come home and all live happily ever after. Now, as an adult, he put his childish, naïve dreams in sardonic, mocking phrase. There had even been times he’d wished it had all been a horrible nightmare. Mum would return from her business trip, and things would go on as before.
"I failed you, Alecsander. I failed Rosaline. I failed my duty as head of the Kameren bloodline."
“Yes.” Alex’s soft tone was worse than any harshness. He’d turned his gaze away from his father to hide his turmoil. Now he turned his eyes back, hard and demanding. “Yes. You failed. You had so much Cedric.” It was a rare moment of openness, and he gave it to Cedric. An admission of his emotions and thoughts. “You had so much, and you wasted it.” His voice stilled on the last words, making them a condemnation.
"I hope, with time, you realize your duties and complete them more readily than I did. You are a Kameren. The very last."
He’d bowed his head, but now he brought it up again, his eyes blazing, his body tense, his words under terse control. “No. No, I’m not.” He gripped the bars, keeping part of his attention on Weston, in case the man got any ideas. Snatching his wand, for instance. It would do him no good.
“No, I have a brother,” he drove the words home, staring at his father. “I have a brother, and a nephew. A family, which is all I ever wanted.” His emotions cracked, his voice broke on the last sentence.
“You threw us away, Cedric.”
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Post by Curse Kameren on Aug 5, 2011 1:49:47 GMT -5
“You threw us away, Cedric.”
"I was protecting you." Cedric's emerald eyes shot poison at his son's words. Those were the words of a blood traitor, and the Kameren bloodline could not fall into that. Cedric's son was a disgrace to the family name, but he was all that was left. He was all that was left; that accursed muggle-born bastard who claimed Kameren parentage could not truly be. There were blood curses in place to stop such a thing. It could not be true. It couldn't.
"How dare you. How dare you call that mud-blooded bastard a Kameren." Cedric practically spat at his son's words, his weak body tensing with anger. He had been protecting his son and his wife by killing the muggle woman. Muggles were dangerous animals. The American woman's words and her child could have ruined them. It was only a shame he had gotten caught before he could take care of her son as well. Now he was grown, making a mockery of the Kameren name alongside Cedric's rightful son.
Cedric's anger set off another coughing fit, and it took a few minutes of hacking and heaving before he was able to breathe normally again. His face was gaunt, as if he was about to lose consciousness. He couldn't get upset like that, it quickened the pace. "I was doing what I had to do to protect my family. One day, you will understand that."
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Post by Alex Kameren on Aug 15, 2011 0:42:59 GMT -5
If Alex had been more of a pompous ass, like the majority of his family, he would have looked down his nose coolly and informed Cedric of the error of his ways in derisive tones. Instead he clenched the bars tighter and glared at his father. It was a chance to say all the thoughts he’d had over all the years, to defend what he’d carved out for himself.
“If Muggles are such filth, if you really thought they were such a threat to your family Cedric,” He hissed, eyes like green fire, “What were you doing fucking one, Cedric? And by the sound of it, it wasn’t just a one-night stand, was it, Cedric?”
“How dare I call him a Kameren? Did you know, he looks more like you than I do? He actually tried to live up to his - heritage.” He twisted the words as they fell from his lips. He grew taller, paler, more scarred. Finally an image of Kristopher Curse Kameren stared at his father, mocking him. He stood and stared Cedric down. Eventually Alex returned to normal. He loosened his grip on the bars.
“You’re the disgrace, Cedric. You could have been great. Too bad! You’re nothing but a mad memory, something sad and forgotten in the annals of history. No one to remember you. No one to mourn.”
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Post by Curse Kameren on Aug 21, 2011 1:18:13 GMT -5
Cedric looked down his nose at Alecsander during his rant as if he were an errant child. It was foolish for Cedric to think Alecsander would understand him; whether or not his age, he was still a child. How old was he now? Around the age that Cedric was when Alecsander had been born, he guessed.
“If Muggles are such filth, if you really thought they were such a threat to your family Cedric,” He hissed, eyes like green fire, “What were you doing fucking one, Cedric? And by the sound of it, it wasn’t just a one-night stand, was it, Cedric?”
He turned a hard look on his son, but didn't deign to reply. Weston laughed, but a poisonous look from both Kamerens silenced his cellmate. It had been a dark time, his trip to America, one he didn't want to remember. The part of him fighting back insanity banished the memory from him, made it easier for him to deny his wrongdoing. the proof was undeniable, but the only part of Cedric's dignity he could hold onto hinged on his ability to deny Curse Kameren's existence.
"I was doing what I had to do to protect my family. One day, you will understand that."
“You’re the disgrace, Cedric. You could have been great. Too bad! You’re nothing but a mad memory, something sad and forgotten in the annals of history. No one to remember you. No one to mourn.”
Cedric stayed quiet, his arms crossed. He was closed off, in a similar way Alex seemed to exhibit in his emotions. This was his son, but they were not familiar to each other. There was no affection, not anymore. "It's a shame, that your mother and I didn't have another child. I could have had you die in some sort of horrible accident, leave a real Kameren to head the bloodline." Cedric didn't want a happy family. He didn't need his son to love him. What he wanted was a strong, victorious bloodline. Eventually, all of their names would fade. The blood was all they had, all that would stay.
"You cannot deny your blood, Alecsander. Try as you might, you're still a Kameren. You will always be one."
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Post by Alex Kameren on Aug 21, 2011 22:31:40 GMT -5
“You’re the disgrace, Cedric. You could have been great. Too bad! You’re nothing but a mad memory, something sad and forgotten in the annals of history. No one to remember you. No one to mourn.”
"It's a shame, that your mother and I didn't have another child. I could have had you die in some sort of horrible accident, leave a real Kameren to head the bloodline."
“The bloodline is full of insanity and inbreeding.” Alex took a step away from the bars, separating himself from his father. “There is no strength in following the well-worn tracks of previous failures-- such as you.” He felt cold, devoid of any feeling for this man, aside from a vague pity and disdain. His patronus landed on his shoulder, the bright glow casting one side of his face into deep shadow.
"You cannot deny your blood, Alecsander. Try as you might, you're still a Kameren. You will always be one."
“I’ve never denied my blood, father. Its always been you I’ve denied.” He took another step away, half turning. “I wish I could say good luck, Cedric, but we both know that won’t happen.” Alex walked away down the corridor, his words travelling over his shoulder to the sad old man in the cell.
“The Kamerens are strong. We don’t tolerate weakness or failure. Goodbye Cedric.”
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