Unnatural

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The Killing Curse.

One of the unforgivables, and if you have similar inclinations as a certain noseless somewhat (extremely) hypocritical dark lord, the most terrifying one of the three.

'He must've enjoyed himself, using the very thing he fears as a toy.' Magnus thought, more than a little disturbed.

The Room of Requirements was following his somber mood, a result of the less than savory texts had been studying this time. Unlike the other morally ambiguous literature he had enjoyed, however, this one truly gave him the creeps.

Finding a book on the unforgivables was complicated, there weren't that many of them casually laying around for his magic room to copy, and those it did bring him were really old.

Crumbling parchments written in old Latin if he was lucky, or straight up Aramaic kind of old.

That meant he could either spend a lot of time slaving around trying to translate them (The translation spells he knew would probably pulverize the poor things.), or acquire a modern version at the cost of many galleons, which he didn't lack, and his privacy which he valued greatly.

The Black library should've had such tomes, but a very much drunk Sirius once burned them down along with his late father's correspondence.

So being justifiably paranoid by nature, he summoned his inner Ravenclaw and resigned himself.

It took time, it was boring, and the results were more than mildly disturbing.

'And people say they were created to help people.' Magnus frowned, he was pretty shook after reading such a great amount of unfiltered sadistic bullshit.

The Unforgivables weren't related to each other beyond a piece of relatively modern legislation and their innate twisted nature, the latter of which made them particularly loved by the less creative sort of dark wizards.

Imperio was a simple spell of command, the likes of which roman wizards loved almost as much as their war magics.

Crucio was an attempt at healing gone wrong, or corrupted along the way, Magnus didn't know which one as the accounts contradicted themselves. It was made to jumpstart the nervous system, which it did too well, burning it along the way.

And Avada Kedavra, Harry would know about this one. Some people, who were usually from old and powerful families with both a vested interest in the dark arts and seemingly infinite money, have taken to calling it a spell of painless death because of its immediate nature. An act of mercy, when used correctly.

It was as merciful as force-feeding death to somebody could ever be.

If you ever wondered whether or not it hurts, just try it on a chair or something.

The killing curse was an impossibility, it was as simple as that. There should be no way a spell so devastating could be cast on a whim, by a single wizard who didn't take days of preparation and many sacrifices.

It went against the very laws of magic.

Any random schmuck with enough hatred and above average magical power could pull his wand and cast instant death on his enemies, balance? What's that? Is it tasty?

Yes, it was more taxing than a bombarda. Yes, it took a special kind of person to wish death on somebody hard enough to actualize it in the real world.

But it wasn't nearly enough to justify tossing around the concept of death like a freaking potato, or else Nicholas Flamel would be a total nobody.

Unnatural, that's what it was, quoting Vernon Dursley. Of course, it wouldn't be funny if it had an obvious counter, no sir. You had to be aware of everything around you, and be quick enough to transfigure some shit between you and the green beam of death or else...game over.

Even then, you could either make some living being and hope it catches the soul raping spell, or make something solid and become very well acquainted with the lovely concept behind fragmentation grenades.

That was nonoptimal, too risky, it just wouldn't do.

If there was no known counterspell to the killing curse, then it just meant Magnus had to make one. It couldn't be that hard could it? Not to suck his own horn, but he was pretty damn good at what he did.

…

After multiple days brainstorming concepts, checking up the arithmancy behind them and whether or not he could do them without tapping into a Merlin damned leyline, Magnus finally came to a conclusion.

It was indeed, that hard.

'Just makes things more fun.' He thought, smirking, before throwing himself back into his work.

It was absolutely not because Madam Maxime finally heard about the three giant murder lizards in the forest, and basically forced Fleur into a training regime to 'prepare' her for this mighty and 'unexpected' challenge.

No, Magnus wasn't that taken with her.