Name: Chris

Title: that old black magic

Fandom: Wizards of Waverly Place

Genre: General

Rating: T

Summary: There’s more to magic than they’ll ever know. [Justin/Alex] Post movie.

This one’s going to be a bit on the short side, three or four chapters tops. It started as a one shot but if I kept it that way, it’d be massive. This is easier.

……

all I need is a holiday, from my vocation as a saint
hearts are beating fast; we're the same (in every way)
saints - city drive

……

Justin learns, when he is young, that the link between magic and religion is an invisible bond that no one ever sees, yet it’s presence cannot ever be discounted.

Witchcraft, witch trials. Catholicism, heresy, Inquisition, excommunication. Druids. Voodoo. All ancient and powerful and tangible in that way that love, life, is tangible, touchable, untouchable.

Prayers and worship, all in their own way.

He studies Salem when he’s 9, asks his dad about being burned at the stake and if being a wizard is the same thing as being a witch. No, he’s told. Being a wizard, having powers, is something he was born with. Witchcraft is a practice, a belief, and choosing so is not the same thing.

But, as Justin finds out, that’s not exactly true at all.

……

Alex almost causes them to miss their plane home from the Caribbean. Naturally. A little old lady has a cart set up outside the hotel selling cheap jewelry and candles and what look like voodoo dolls, and she lures her in with her wide smile and promises of good deals.

Justin rolls his eyes, pulling his sister away from the table. The last thing he needs is Alex getting it in her head to make a doll of him. She’s inflicts enough on him as it is. She jerks her elbow back out of his grasp and runs beads and chains through her fingers, a look of wonder on her face that he recognizes from anytime she sets foot in the mall back home, and demands he gives her ten dollars for a cheap looking silver charm on a thread thin chain.

He does. Of course. It’s easier than the fallout from refusing.

And it’s easier to convince himself, when she pushes her hair to one side, that the clasp of the chain isn’t hot.

……

“Alex!”

It starts, as so many things do, with a yell.

She whirls, her conversation with Harper that he’s been pulled into by force stopping abruptly.

Abigail Archer has never particularly liked Alex, and vice versa. The two of them have clashed since the first time they laid eyes on each other in fifth grade. But unlike Gigi, she’s gone out of her way to avoid his sister ever since.

Until now.

“What,” Abigail demands, “is that?” Justin follows the line of her finger directly to the necklace Alex is wearing, the necklace she (he) bought on vacation.

Rolling her eyes, Alex turns back to Harper, ignoring Abigail and the dark scowl twisting her pretty face.

Justin sucks in a breath when Abigail puts a hand on Alex’s shoulder and pushes at her. “Excuse me, I was talking to you.”

He can see the fury ignite in his sister’s eyes and he steps between the girls to keep the situation from escalating. They’ve already drawn a little attention from the people standing close by. If a crowd forms, then teachers will get involved.

“Listen, Abigail,” he says slowly. “You and I both know Alex isn’t the most polite person on the planet-”

“I’m standing right here,” his sister protests, shoving at him.

He ignores her, keeping his attention on the other girl. She seems to be even more upset than Alex is, so she’s the priority for the moment. “What’s wrong?”

Still scowling, Abigail looks at Alex beyond her brother’s elbow. “Where did you get that charm?”

She picks at the charm around her neck. “This? I got it while I was on vacation.” She cocks her hip out and crosses her arms over her chest. “What do you care?”

“Do you have any idea what that symbol even means?”

At this he, Alex, and even Harper snort. Alex knowing what something means is, well, its snort worthy.

“All I know is cost ten bucks and it goes with everything,” Alex states flatly. “What else is there?”

Sputtering in indignation on Abigail’s part turns into slack jawed disbelief. “You didn’t even ask?”

“Ask what?” Alex demands. “When this conversation is going to be over?”

Abigail turns to Justin, a more resigned and calm look on her face. She takes a deep breath, and begins speaking slowly. “Justin, unlike your sister, I know you are a thoughtful, respectful person, and you understand the meaning of tradition.”

He nods. Behind him, Alex snorts.

“That symbol,” she says with all the venom of a king cobra, “is an ancient voodoo veve. Wearing it when you have no idea of its significance is just plain insulting.”

“How do you know I don’t practice voodoo?” Alex shoots at her.

Abigail scoffs. “You’re Catholic, Alex. My family knows yours, remember?”

Justin can all but feel the dirty look Alex must be giving her. He doesn’t even need to turn around and see for himself. He steps away from his sister and Harper, guiding Abigail along with him. “Listen, Abigail, you and I both know my sister and she didn’t mean any disrespect. She just…has no control when it comes to shopping.”

Fishing a small leather bound book out of her overly large, overly fashionable bag and hands it to him. “Do your sister a favor and try to teach her something. Something beyond questionable fashion choices.”

With a final look of disdain, Abigail stalks off, the heels of her shoes clacking angrily in her wake. Justin has to throw an arm out to keep Alex from going after her.

He eyes the book in his hand and sighs. His work is never done.

……

Later that day Justin understands why Abigail was so upset. He’s spent the last few hours reading the book she gave him, all about the traditions and practices of voodoo and he realizes that, without meaning to, Alex had made a major mistake.

Typical.

When she walks into the lair, Justin fights against rolling his eyes at seeing the silver charm still laying flat against her collarbone. He can see, sort of, why she liked it. It looks good on her, suits her, and fits in with all the other ostentatious and unusual things she wears.

Alex hadn’t meant any harm, unlike so many other times in her life when situations like this have popped up. Then he thinks about the bad taste that rose in his mouth when he saw Brian Grayson, who’s parents were stout and vocal Atheists, wearing a rosary to school one day. He dressed entirely Goth back then, and he probably just looked at the beads and cross as just some piece of jewelry that complemented his outfit.

It didn’t feel that way to Justin. To him, it felt like a slap in the face against everything he’s been raised to believe his whole life.

And he doesn’t really know Abigail (family hate strikes again) that well, but he has heard around school that her grandmother and her aunt are big in the Brooklyn voodoo community. Seeing Alex wearing that charm was most likely just as sickening to her and seeing Brian with that rosary had been to him.

Setting the book down on the table, he runs his eyes over the curves of the charm; a heart at it’s center, the swirls coming down from the bottom, the cross like top. It is pretty, and yes, it does look good on her, but it means something to other people, and she should know that. “Alex, maybe you should take that off.”

“Justin, you’re talking again. Please stop.” She rolls her eyes and picks the book off the table. He’s marked the page that describes the specific charm causing the problem and she flips to it, making a disbelieving noise in the back of her throat. “Voodoo spirit of love? Oh come on, don’t tell me you buy all this garbage?”

Anger flares up in his chest. “It’s not garbage, Alex,” he tells her. “This is serious to some people. You should show a little more respect for other people’s beliefs.”

“People like Abigail?”

He’s silent for a few minutes, letting it all process. Justin knows his sister, knows her better than he knows anyone. And he can feel it in his bones that she’s not going to listen to him. She’s hates Abigail, as much as she hates anyone or anything, and now that Alex knows that her wearing a voodoo charm bothers her, she’s going to keep doing it, just for spite.

“Why do I ever expect anything more from you?”

Leaving the lair, he barely, just barely, catches sight of her face as it crumples.

……

They don’t speak the rest of the night, but he feels Alex’s eyes on him, heavy, all through dinner and as he walks up the stairs to do his homework.

Abigail’s book is lying on his bed when he gets upstairs, page still marked.

He wonders.

……