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Post by Curse Kameren on Jun 23, 2011 2:14:17 GMT -5
Time to get to work. Though the school semester was finished and the students were out for the summer, Curse was just getting started. Echo still wasn't freed, but he was confident he could get her out without Daksmer getting his hands on her. Curse was stabilizing physically and mentally, his change in poison antidote having knocked him about for a while. Now, he needed to focus. Though all these elements were important, there was something else that had been stuck in his mind. Some memory that wouldn't leave him alone, kept nagging at him. There was something wrong with the Minister for Magic, and Curse had a good idea at what it was. The fingers on the professor's right hand glowed as he moved through the dungeons of Hogwarts, getting to his office. He needed to install a link between his office at Hogwarts and his home at Godric's Hollow; this would get bothersome very quickly if he had to navigate the school whenever he came back. His office was a place of peace and quiet, however. It was rare he found a place this quiet, but with the students gone and Max at home he had a place to go. He needed to think. He knew Mosrael was back. The Black Watch had informed him as much. Curse still felt guilty about his absence from the first call of the Watch, but he had been mentally unable to attend. There would be no use for him if he couldn't recognize which enemy was real. They had taken care of it relatively well without him, so there wasn't a need to worry. Now they needed to know the next attack, and Curse had a feeling the attack was already in motion. He'd been watching Harkness since the day he and Tynan ran into him, and the symptoms were overwhelming. How would he prove it, though? How could he describe the symptoms of Mosrael's curse to his friends? Could he help Harkness himself, if he was called upon? Questions ran rampant through Curse's head as he opened his classroom door, crossing it and climbing the few stairs to his office. Suddenly Curse stopped, the light in his fingers flickering out as he lost his grip on the spell. Something was wrong. Curse's papers were splayed everywhere across his office, books pulled off the shelf and bottles knocked over to let the potions spill. The only part of the room that seemed untouched was the professor's desk. It was clean, the various objects he'd left there were in the same condition he left them, plus one new object: a lantern. The wrought-iron object sat in the center of his desk, a small flame flickering inside on a home-made wick. The fire gave the room a sickly, uncomfortable smell, one Curse knew. It was the smell of burning flesh. But where was it from? The professor approached his desk with caution, his mind prepping for the spells he would need to defend himself if his opposer was still present. A small green spark blinked between his eyes for a moment; his spells had checked out. He was alone. He inspected the lantern on his desk carefully, long pale fingers gingerly touching it in case it was a portkey. Nothing. It was only a lantern. A lantern that burned flesh? He picked it up. A small phrase was carved into his desk under the lantern. Curse recognized the ornate script as his reading in parseltongue. Watch your step. Thnk. Curse's head snapped up at the sound of someone out in his classroom, his hands bursting into a bright stunning-spell red if he needed to defend himself. His emerald eyes searched out the cracked door, finding a figure in the dark. He hissed in Parseltongue, assuming it to be his opposer. 'Who'ssss out there? Hello?'ooc: The first part of the plot I mentioned in this thread. I'm not sure who's at the door, someone who would take an interest in this first clue. We'll see where it goes.
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Post by Cain on Jun 23, 2011 11:41:21 GMT -5
((Is it ok if I join? Someone’s on the lam. )) 'Who'ssss out there? Hello?' “You know I don’t speak that rubbish.” Cain said, entering the room cautiously. He was well familiar with Curse’s traps and spells, and the fact that he’d proceeded so far into the ex-auror’s domain without encountering one made him suspicious. He looked around, taking in and cataloguing the mess with the unconscious ease of someone who had made such observances second nature. “Neat trick.” He nodded towards Curse’s glowing fingers. “I’m a little rusty, myself.” He held up a hand that flickered briefly. “Don’t tell Ms Callahan I’m here.” He added, “I’m on the lam.” The shorter cursebreaker wandered around the room, his hands hovering briefly over a pile of shattered glass, a stack of scattered papers. There was a hint of the old Cain in his movements, large and room-filling, a deft familiarity with his work that never left. “Did they leave a message, or is this the message?” He asked, careful not to breath in the fumes of the mixed potions he was leaning over as he examined something on the shelf. It was lying on its side, but otherwise had not been disturbed. I wouldn’t have thought it. “You do know what this is, right?” He asked, ghosting green-blue fingers over it. He frowned as the reading came back. He left the object, next focusing on the lantern. It was even more curious, the light flickering despite being encased in glass. He ran the same test on the lantern. He glanced up at Curse, pulling away so he could see the man’s face better. “Who have you ticked off this time?”
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Post by Curse Kameren on Jun 23, 2011 12:37:31 GMT -5
“You know I don’t speak that rubbish.”
Curse's brow furrowed when he heard the familiar voice. How the hell did Cain Pierce get into Hogwarts, let along out of St. Mungo's? He supposed Elle could only be watching so long, and her work had been stretched thin between the both of them through the last few weeks. But then, why would Cain come to Curse's office, of all places? Then again, Cain may not know about Curse's move to Godric's Hollow. He picked a good night to come, then.
"Your magic will get better when you get better." The professor's eyes glanced up at Cain from his desk. He levitated the objects on his desk, searching the wood for any other carved messages. Nothing, just the parseltongue. "And I won't tell Elle, but when we leave here you're going back. You need to be there so they can help you." His emerald eyes flashed into his animagus form, checking the desk under a new lens. He stood up straight, looking around the room for any more clues. He didn't find any.
“Did they leave a message, or is this the message? You do know what this is, right?”
"Yes, I know what that is, that's mine." It was a bottle of White Death Poison, his killer and also an ingredient in his antidote. A touch could kill, so obviously it was left closed on his shelf. It was the only poison Curse kept in his office, out of reach from Max and the students. "This is the message, here." Curse's eyes changed back as he beckoned Cain closer. The carving would only look like meaningless lines to him, but Curse could read them. "Watch your step, it says."
“Who have you ticked off this time?”
"There are too many to tell," Curse frowned. He focussed on the lamp, his other clue. The fire was obviously causing that smell; there was nothing different about it from any other lantern, besides one thing. With a wave of his hand Curse lit the rest of the room, looking at Cain before he blew out the lantern. The fire seemed to crackle as he snuffed it out, the wick withering under his breath. "There's something about this wick," the wick still had enough left for him to test. He opened the lantern, pulling the hot wick out of its housing and laying it on the desk. His analytical eyes sparked with recognition. It's hair, obviously. Braided. Brown. Hmm," Curse turned on his heel, grabbing the nearest Cauldron and starting a fire under it. "Better find out whose it is. That could lead us to the bottom of this."
A filing cabinet on the far corner of the room was entirely untouched by the offenders. Curse knew why: it was his ingredients cabinet, containing some of the rarest and most powerful potions and poison ingredients in the country. Curse kept it under double-guard, more protected than his office or his classroom. Only he could open it. He wrenched a drawer open, taking out several ingredients from one drawer and dropping them on his desk before going at another drawer. "Aguamenti," He muttered, causing the cauldron to fill halfway with water.
The ingredients were all summoned by the time the water reached a boil. Curse started his procedure, placing the ingredients in in the way the ritual required. He took the polished stick he used for potions in replacement of a wand, stirring the cauldron carefully as he glanced over at Cain. "This is an identification potion, simple forensic potions. It should tell us whose hair that is." Curse pulled the stick out an dried it off, the potion pulsing a soft white to signify that it was ready. The Potions Master took a strand of hair off the wick, dropping it carefully into the center of the cauldron.
The potion turned a light blue: blue for male, light for young. It started to bubble upwards, the wisps of steam moving together to form an image, a face. It was a young boy, possibly a little older than Max's age. He had curly hair and a round face, with freckles peppering his cheeks. His small, piggish eyes gleamed playfully, and he smiled. This boy wasn't Curse's attacker, he was another victim. And Curse knew him.
"No, how can that..." He examined the cauldron once again, but nothing was faltering in his potion-crafting. It was the boy's hair. "But, how?" His emerald eyes seemed to see through the steamed face, looking past him into the real face of the child in a memory. Many, many years ago.
"That's Sage Vivians. He died back in 2012. He was my first auror case." Disbelief crossed the ex-auror's face as he watched the boy's face smile.
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Post by Cain on Jun 23, 2011 19:44:01 GMT -5
Cain shrugged, once more prowling around the room. This was his first time in Curse’s Hogwarts HQ; but it had been easy to discover. They did share mutual friends, after all. Mutual family members. Cain frowned, staring at a pile of books as though it contained the answer to the question that had flashed through his mind.
"Yes, I know what that is, that's mine.” He raised an eyebrow, forcefully distracting himself from his own mind, bringing him into the here and now. How could he have forgotten? Of course the white death would be bottled on the man’s shelf. A necessary evil.
"Watch your step, it says."
“I can read.” Cain said, peering closer. “Its hard going, and it hurts my eyes, but it’s proved useful in the past.” He shuddered, pulling away. He had once put forth the effort to learn the language, but his mouth and throat weren’t cooperative, and the teacher’s words had sounded like nothing less nor more than the unintelligible mutterings of any other snake. He had had more success with the written language, though it was still a chore.
Curse went through the steps of a potion, Cain sat on the corner of the desk, holding the wick in a pair of tweezers, not daring trust his magic to levitate it between his hands as he might once have. He had to settle for more mundane ways of study. He muttered something in response to Curse’s comments and explanations. Cain was a cursebreaker. He’d worked with the aurors for years, and had done plenty of forensics and research himself, but he didn’t mention this to Curse. The aurors liked to talk, liked to explain their actions as they did them. It was habit he could ignore.
"That's Sage Vivians. He died back in 2012. He was my first auror case." Disbelief crossed the ex-auror's face as he watched the boy's face smile.
“Well, obviously,” Cain’s fingers sparked as he twined them in the air about the hair wick, tracing shapes and protective runes, a thin white fire following the traces his fingers left, the wick floating in the center. It floated in the air for three point four seconds (Cain had counted, once) before dropping into his cupped palm. “Someone got into the evidence locker. No one dug that up from any grave.” He offered the octagonal crystal to Curse. “Crack that open when you need. Until then, it will stay untainted.”
He folded his hands and looked down at them. Perhaps some little bit of good could be given back to the world. Perhaps he could stave off impending retribution by trying to give the world something in return. He said the next though that occurred to him, foregoing his own personal strife and offering another thought for Curse to think on. “Or they had the boy before he died.”
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Post by Curse Kameren on Jun 24, 2011 1:05:48 GMT -5
“I can read.” Cain said, peering closer. “Its hard going, and it hurts my eyes, but it’s proved useful in the past.”
Curse grunted in reply, his emerald eyes not moving from the intricate carving. Parseltongue wasn't an ability Curse greatly advertised, whoever had set this warning for him knew him far too well. Far too well. He hadn't even been listed as prosecuting auror on Vivians' case; he had only been a junior, Caulfield's name was the one attached to the case. Someone was paying close attention to him, studying him. But who, and why? Most of his enemies wouldn't warn him, they would take their opportunity to kill him without giving him a chance. Most of his enemies couldn't spare that chance. One who actually threatened him was both a little more fearful, and a lot more intriguing.
“Someone got into the evidence locker. No one dug that up from any grave.”
"'Course not, he was cremated," Curse replied without thinking about it, his eyes still watching the child's face as the potion lost effect and he faded away. He always went to the funerals of his murder cases. He felt connected to those people. A respectful ceremony was needed, after going through the grisly details of their end. Sage had been forcefully drowned, Curse remembered, by his mum. She was still in Azkaban, and would be for a very long time: she couldn't have done this. Either way, she wouldn't know to write in parseltongue. It would have to be someone smarter, or someone who also spoke it. Or someone with minions who could do it for them. He was still lost in the memory when Cain dropped the crystallized hair into his hand.
“Crack that open when you need. Until then, it will stay untainted.”
Nodding, the professor popped the crystal into his pocket. "Thanks." He sighed, his hands in his pockets as he looked around the sabotaged office. There was no explanation for this; Curse had been keeping his head down lately, doing everything in secret. How was he still getting noticed? He just wanted to live peacefully, live out the rest of his life with his son. If this warning turned into threats, he wasn't sure what he would do. Even Daksmer's empty threat had panicked him. Any threats against Max would set him off.
"I don't know what this is about, really. Someone's been waiting a while to do this. They've been doing their research." He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he sat down in his chair. He popped a cigarette in his mouth; due to his friends' and family's constant chiding, he had been avoiding smoking lately, but now he needed to think. Smoking helped him think, so he did it. He blew smoke out of his mouth as he thought, dissipating the second-hand substance for Cain's sake. "Watch your step. Watch my step... That's all I've bloody been doing lately, watching my bloody step..."
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Post by Cain on Jul 10, 2011 13:41:20 GMT -5
“'Course not, he was cremated,"
“You don’t say.” Cain hummed, taking another stroll around the room. He found it helped him concentrate. He also found he was tired of feeling sorry for himself. He was the best cursebreaker the ministry had seen in centuries, his knowledge of dark magic was extensive. If he couldn’t find a solution for this-- and maybe keep her out of his mind while he was at it --then who could?
After all, he had created this mess.
"Watch your step. Watch my step... That's all I've bloody been doing lately, watching my bloody step..."
Cain plucked a cigarette from the box before Curse could pull it away. “I think you forgot that I smoke, old man.” He leaned against the desk and breathed in appreciably. It had been long months since he’d had one. Now that he intended to stay out of the hospital, he would pick the habit straight back up.
“Bloody rotten.” He agreed with Curse’s muttering. “You’ll never get peace, til you’re dead.” He lifted the cigarette in a sort of salute towards the other man. “By the way, I never did get the chance. How’d that little tussle with whats-her-face turn out for you? She stay out of your mind?”
He’d been there, but shortly after the curse had been lifted from the Kameren’s mind, Cain and Cal had been kidnapped. And really, when you’re on your deathbed and trying to get through death’s doorway, it wasn’t the type of thing one asked the man who insisted on mot letting you do just that.
Cain smirked, taking a slow drag, breathing in the smoke. “You Kamerens have a hell of a protective streak.”
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Post by Curse Kameren on Jul 10, 2011 17:20:15 GMT -5
“Bloody rotten.” He agreed with Curse’s muttering. “You’ll never get peace, til you’re dead.”
"I'm not worried about my peace..." Curse flicked his thumb like a lighter, the tip of it igniting in an Incendio spell as he did. He held it up for Cain to light his as well. He had forgotten that Cain smoked. What was worrying about this to Curse was Max. If this had happened to him three years ago, before he knew his son, this would be fascinating. He would be excited to have an old enemy singling him out. Now he was worried how the repercussions would affect his family. He couldn't put himself on the line like he used to, as now there was another life depending on his. He couldn't afford to make the same mistakes he used to.
“By the way, I never did get the chance. How’d that little tussle with whats-her-face turn out for you? She stay out of your mind?”
Mosrael. Could this have been her? It was entirely possible, writing in parseltongue would be her style. She liked to hearken back to the wars of their fathers. What had he done to get her attention? He knew about her, he knew Daniel. He was powerful again, and he had noticed the Minister. That could be enough for her to warn him. She was one of the few people whose threats he might heed. If these threats advanced any further, though, they would only provoke him.
Curse's eyes stayed steady on the desk, taking a pull from his cigarette as he lost himself in thought. "Some days are better than others." Sometimes, he would see Mosrael, hear her. He could feel the pain her curse had brought him at times, when he thought about her. He tried to keep those memories away. It wasn't good to dwell on that past, or he would be lost to it again.
“You Kamerens have a hell of a protective streak.”
Curse smiled crookedly, rubbing his jaw as he came out of the fog of his own thoughts. "Where would we be without it? No one would've been around to keep your ass out or trouble." The Kameren's protectiveness was notorious, but he was sure Cain got it doubly, from both brothers. Alex didn't show it as much, but Curse knew someday he would. When he had loved ones of his own who needed protecting, he would show it. Merlin, how was this going to affect Max? Curse needed to find out who this was and put an end to the threats as soon as possible. If his Hogwarts office wasn't safe, then his home couldn't be much safer.
Curse glanced up at Cain, a question coming to him. It was something he had been thinking about for a while, one of the leads on the case he knew was too sensitive to explore. But Cain seemed strong enough now. "You summoned the demons, didn't you?"
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Post by Cain on Jul 10, 2011 22:13:25 GMT -5
"Some days are better than others."
“Memories? Or the curse?” Cain pinned the man with a shrewd stare. He pilfered another cigarette and lit it from the old one.
“You Kamerens have a hell of a protective streak.”
Curse smiled crookedly, rubbing his jaw as he came out of the fog of his own thoughts. "Where would we be without it? No one would've been around to keep your ass out or trouble."
“Don’t chide me.” Cain waved the cigarette at Curse, a now-rare grin on his face. “Without my protective streak, you likely wouldn’t have met your brother.” He closed his eyes, blowing smoke into the air as he relaxed, his amused expression softening as he slipped into remembrances of times past. Back when life was good, when times were simple. When he was young, and things made sense.
"You summoned the demons, didn't you?"
Cain stiffened, his expression now grim and silent. He’d known this was coming. The only mystery had been when one of the Kamerens would break that tentative peace, burst his fragile bubble and expose him to the world.
It only happened that Curse said it first.
His lips moved, the words-near silent, and gradually his voice grew, the mutterings of a mad man now loud enough to hear. His face was drawn, the eyelids pinched shut. He recited, as if a bit of fable from times past.
“Cursebreaker, they had named him. Brother, they had called him. Breaker of Curses, Destroyer of Darkness. Scion of the House. These things he was, this was what he laid claim to. Once, but no longer.
He lived to his name. The Betrayer. Murderer. Son of Darkness. Sunderer. Heir to the Broken World.”
He opened his eyes, the grey-blue dark as he continued.
“Cain.”
He looked up at the tall Kameren, his face hard. “I lived my story, Kameren. I betrayed those I loved, and I brought a scourge on the land.” He put a hand up to forestall any interrupting. “Not looking for pity, or empathy, or any crap. I know what I did.” His eyes burned with fierce determination. “It wouldn’t have been done without me. Or at least,”
“it wouldn’t have been done for long eons after our bones turn to dust, without me.”
One long finger pointed at his forehead. “She’s in my mind, Kameren. And unlike your demon, there is no way to get her out. She’s almost symbiotic, in her need for those she connects with.” So you see, letting me die might have been best after all. The secret could have died with us. He let that last bit lay silently in his mind.
He puffed the last bit of smoke in slowly. “Nice little bit there, isn’t it? The Stone told it to me.”
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Post by Curse Kameren on Jul 11, 2011 10:21:39 GMT -5
"Some days are better than others."
“Memories? Or the curse?”
Curse sighed, taking a long, tired pull from his cigarette. He knew of all people, he should be able to discuss this with Cain. Cain knew what he'd been through, as he was going through it now. It wasn't quite the same, but he could understand. It didn't change the fact that Curse hated the weakness in him, and talking about it meant admitting its existence.
"Both, I suppose. The side effects of the curse keep the memories fresh." Something was broken inside Curse after Mosrael's attack on him. Some days it was like he was living with a dementor inside of him, and he was unable to escape his memories. Paranoia and delusions would take hold, keeping him in the dark for days before finally letting go. The doctors diagnosed it as Post-Traumatic Stress, but it was something different. Curse hadn't been the same man since the attack, and he wasn't sure if he ever would be.
Curse stayed quiet through Cain's mutterings, waiting him out. There had been an assumption between Cain, Alex and Curse that this was the truth, but no one was willing to say it. Cain had been too weak, and Curse and Alex had been too kind. But the time had come, and if this attack had something to do with the demons, he needed to put a stop to it. He wouldn't force Alex to ask the question; Cain and Alex were like brothers. Alex didn't need to see his other brother in this state, just after he'd help Curse through his troubles.
“She’s in my mind, Kameren. And unlike your demon, there is no way to get her out. She’s almost symbiotic, in her need for those she connects with.”
"Who?" Curse asked, arching a brow as he blew smoke with his question. Scarlet. It had to be, she was the only one who was a match; the demon attacks were motiveless, apparently coordinated simply for the detriment to society they would cause. There were few in the Wizarding underground that worked without a motive, even fewer who were women. Scarlet didn't want anything out of her attacks, just to cause suffering. Cain was an example of that suffering.
“Nice little bit there, isn’t it? The Stone told it to me.”
Curse's emerald eyes stayed steady on his friend, his expression hard. He had no sympathy for the man; Cain was younger than him, but the two had seen their equal shares of hardship. They understood each other, but they did not need to empathize with each other. Neither of them valued pity.
"We can stop it, you know. We can stop her from hurting anyone else."
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Post by Cain on Jul 22, 2011 20:02:42 GMT -5
“It would have been better to let me die. The Stone;” the word was obviously capitalized, one single word that meant so much more, “It was living off me, if I had died…” He frowned, uncertain.
“I’m not sure, actually, and I daren’t research it farther. I can keep no secrets from-- from her.” His words staggered. “Certainly It would have been gravely damaged, if not destroyed. She would be gone, we’re so connected now… as it is, I fear she’s looking for a new agent. Someone younger.”
His own hard gaze met Curse’s. “How? You tell me how I can get rid of Her, and I’ll tell you how you can get rid of your demon.”
Suddenly Cain’s face tilted in a smile. “So, I hear from our favorite auror that you have a son. Also, a little birdie told me you had a case.”
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Post by Curse Kameren on Jul 23, 2011 20:34:22 GMT -5
Curse sat in his desk chair, putting out the butt of his cigarette. He wondered briefly if it was time to bring Cain back to Mungo's; he was talking about death again, how his own end would have been better than living. He listened, but it was self-absorbed bullshit in his opinion. Curse knew from his own experiences, martyrdom wouldn't solve a damn thing. The Wizarding World needed Cain's cursebreaking prowess, and now his knowledge of the demons and the witch behind them. Taking that away would be selfish of him.
"She would be gone, we’re so connected now… as it is, I fear she’s looking for a new agent. Someone younger.”
The ex-auror straightened, meeting his friend's pale blue eyes. They knew each other better than most. At times, Curse thought he knew Cain better than he knew even his brother. They had had similar experiences, been through similar hardships and fought their way out. The mention of someone younger unsettled Curse slightly. How much younger? He thought of his son, the explosive power he already harnessed at only ten. If she was going to take a child, they would have to act quickly.
"We can stop it, you know. We can stop her from hurting anyone else."
“How? You tell me how I can get rid of Her, and I’ll tell you how you can get rid of your demon.”
Curse paused, his eyes falling back down on the desk with the parseltongue inscription. He had more faith in Pierce than the wizard himself did. Cain was hurt, yes. But he hadn't lost anything truly important yet. Cal and Alex were still there, they were still supporting him. He still had things to lose. That meant he would keep fighting.
“So, I hear from our favorite auror that you have a son. Also, a little birdie told me you had a case.”
"Max." Curse smiled tiredly, running his thumb over the carving with a faint smile as he caught the amusement in Cain's voice. Most of his mates from the Ministry had had similar reactions. They hadn't been able to picture the gruff auror taking care of a child. To be honest, at first Curse could hardly picture it either. "I hear he paid you a visit one day."
"I have a case? Never." Curse leaned back, a blunt tone coming into his voice. Whatever birdies were chirping about his work on Echo's freedom needed to be silenced. There were too many wronged Law Enforcement members breathing down his neck already. Cain would recognize the droll tone as blunt Kameren sarcasm, however. Alex never stopped with it. "She's a half-demon, some kind of cursed taint. Arianna Blackthorn has her hidden away in Mysteries until we can get her out, or cured, or both." He massaged his shoulder as he spoke, his eyes still on the parseltongue phrase. Though he spoke and communicated with his friend, his mind was still on the problem at hand.
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