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“But the person who stepped out of the front door was tall and thin, with short, spiky dark hair. he was wearing a gold mesh vest and a pair of silk pajama pants. He regarded Clary with mild interest, puffing gently on a fantastically large pipe as he did so. Though he looked nothing at all like a Viking, he was instantly and totally familiar.
Magnus Bane”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Glass

“What - what - what are you doing?" he demanded.
"I am almost six hundred years old," Magnus claimed, and Ragnor snorted, since Magnus changed his age to suit himself every few weeks. Magnus swept on. "It does seem about time to learn a musical instrument." He flourished his new prize, a little stringed instrument that looked like a cousin of the lute that the lute was embarrassed to be related to. "It's called a charango. I am planning to become a charanguista!"
"I wouldn't call that an instrument of music," Ragnor observed sourly. "An instrument of torture, perhaps."
Magnus cradled the charango in his arms as if it were an easily offended baby. "It's a beautiful and very unique instrument! The sound box is made from an armadillo. Well, a dried armadillo shell."
"That explains the sound you're making," said Ragnor. "Like a lost, hungry armadillo."
"You are just jealous," Magnus remarked calmly. "Because you do not have the soul of a true artiste like myself."
"Oh, I am positively green with envy," Ragnor snapped.
"Come now, Ragnor. That's not fair," said Magnus. "You know I love it when you make jokes about your complexion."
Magnus refused to be affected by Ragnor's cruel judgments. He regarded his fellow warlock with a lofty stare of superb indifference, raised his charango, and began to play again his defiant, beautiful tune.
They both heard the staccato thump of frantically running feet from within the house, the swish of skirts, and then Catarina came rushing out into the courtyard. Her white hair was falling loose about her shoulders, and her face was the picture of alarm.
"Magnus, Ragnor, I heard a cat making a most unearthly noise," she exclaimed. "From the sound of it, the poor creature must be direly sick. You have to help me find it!"
Ragnor immediately collapsed with hysterical laughter on his windowsill. Magnus stared at Catarina for a moment, until he saw her lips twitch.
"You are conspiring against me and my art," he declared. "You are a pack of conspirators."
He began to play again. Catarina stopped him by putting a hand on his arm.
"No, but seriously, Magnus," she said. "That noise is appalling."
Magnus sighed. "Every warlock's a critic."
"Why are you doing this?"
"I have already explained myself to Ragnor. I wish to become proficient with a musical instrument. I have decided to devote myself to the art of the charanguista, and I wish to hear no more petty objections."
"If we are all making lists of things we wish to hear no more . . . ," Ragnor murmured.
Catarina, however, was smiling.
"I see," she said.
"Madam, you do not see."
"I do. I see it all most clearly," Catarina assured him. "What is her name?"
"I resent your implication," Magnus said. "There is no woman in the case. I am married to my music!"
"Oh, all right," Catarina said. "What's his name, then?"
His name was Imasu Morales, and he was gorgeous.”
― Cassandra Clare, The Bane Chronicles

“He carefully maintained the blasé air of one who had been here before and had been incredibly well dressed that time too”
― Cassandra Clare, The Bane Chronicles

“Whatever," said Ragnor. "Raphael would never date a Shadowhunter."
"Of course, why would he, when you two are in looove?" Magnus asked. "'Oooh, Raphael is always so professional.' 'Oooh, Raphael brought up the most interesting points in the meeting you forgot to attend.' 'Oooh, Rapheal and I are planning a June wedding.' Besides, Raphael would never date a Shadowhunter because Raphael has a policy of never doing anything that is awesome.”
― Cassandra Clare, What to Buy the Shadowhunter Who Has Everything

“Raphael calls me every month,�� said Ragnor. “Raphael knows that it is important to preserve good relations and maintain regular communication between the different Downworlder factions. I might add, Raphael always remembers important occasions in my life.��
“I forgot your birthday one time sixty years ago!�� said Magnus. “You need to let that go.��
“It was fifty-eight years ago, for the record. And Raphael knows we need to maintain a united front against the Nephilim and not, for instance, sneak around with their underage sons,�� Ragnor continued.
“Alec is eighteen!��
“Whatever,�� said Ragnor. “Raphael would never date a Shadowhunter.��
“Of course, why would he, when you two are in loooove?�� Magnus asked. “‘Oooh, Raphael is
always so professional.�� ‘Oooh, Raphael brought up the most interesting points in that meeting you forgot to attend.�� ‘Oooh, Raphael and I are planning a June wedding.�� Besides, Raphael would never date a Shadowhunter because Raphael has a policy of never doing anything that is awesome.”
― Cassandra Clare, What to Buy the Shadowhunter Who Has Everything

“As the carriage rolled under the Institute’s gates, James saw his parents standing in the courtyard.
“And where have you been?�� Will demanded as James clambered out of the carriage. The others leaped down behind him, the girls, being in gear, needing no help to dismount. “You stole our carriage.��
James wished he could tell his father the truth, but that would be breaking their sworn promise to Ragnor.
“It’s only the second-best carriage,�� James protested.
“Remember when Papa stole Uncle Gabriel’s carriage? It’s a proud family tradition,�� said Lucie, as the group of them approached the Institute steps.
“I did not raise you to be horse thieves and scallywags,�� said Will. “And I recall very clearly that I told you—��
“Thank you for letting them borrow the carriage to come and get me,�� said Cordelia. Her eyes were wide, and she looked entirely innocent. James felt an amused stab of surprise: she was an interestingly skilful liar. “I had very much wanted to come to the Institute and see what I could do to help.��
Will softened immediately. “Of course. You are always welcome here, Cordelia.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

“Our fathers were demons,' Catarina said. 'Our mothers were heroes.”
― cassandra clare, What Really Happened in Peru

“You're the shape-changer aren't you?" he said. "Magnus Bane told me about you. No mark on you at all, they say."
Tessa swallowed and looked him straight in the eye. They were discordantly human eyes, ordinary in his extraordinary face. "No. No mark."
He grinned around his fork. "I do suppose they've looked everywhere?"
"I'm sure Will's tryed," said Jessamine in a bored tone. Tessa's silverware clattered to the plate. Jessamine, who had been mashing her peas to the side of the plate with her knife, looked out when Charlotte let out an aghast, "Jessamine!”
― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Prince

“In one hallway, the floor gleaming parquet and the ceiling festooned with golden cherubs, there was a boy in a grumpy cat mask and biker boots, not involved in any sexual activity, legs crossed and leaning against the wall. As a bevy of faeries passed the boy, giggling and groping, the boy scooted away.
Alec remembered being younger, and how overwhelming large groups of people had seemed. He came over and leaned against the wall beside the boy. He saw the boy texting, PARTIES WERE INVENTED TO ANNOY ME. THEY FEATURE MY LEAST FAVORITE THING: PEOPLE, ALL INTENT ON MY LEAST FAVORITE ACTIVITY: SOCIAL INTERACTION.
“I don’t really like parties either,�� Alec said sympathetically.
“No hablo italiano,�� the boy mumbled without looking up.
“Er,�� said Alec. “This conversation is happening in English.��
“No hablo ingles,�� he said without missing a beat.
“Oh, come on. Really?��
“Worth a shot,�� said the boy.
Alec considered going away. The boy wrote another text to a contact he had saved as RF. Alec could not help but notice that the conversation was entirely one-sided, the boy sending text after text with no response. The last text read VENICE SMELLS LIKE A TOILET. AS A NEW YORKER, I DO NOT SAY THIS LIGHTLY.
The weird coincidence emboldened Alec to try again.
“I get shy when there are strangers too,�� Alec told the kid.
“I’m not shy,�� the boy sneered. “I just hate everyone around me and everything that is happening.��
“Well.�� Alec shrugged. “Those feel like similar things sometimes.��
The boy lifted his curly head, pushing the grumpy cat mask off his face, and froze. Alec froze too, at the twin shock of fangs and familiarity. This was a vampire, and Alec knew him.
“Raphael?�� he asked. “Raphael Santiago?��
He wondered what the second-in-command of the New York clan was doing here. Downworlders might be flooding in from all over the world, but Raphael had never struck Alec as a party animal.
Of course, he was not exactly coming off as a party animal now.
“Oh no, it’s you,�� said Raphael. “The twelve-year-old idiot.��
Alec was not keen on vampires. They were, after all, people who had died. Alec had seen too much death to want reminders of it.
He understood that they were immortal, but there was no need to show off about it.
“We just fought a war together. I was with you in the graveyard when Simon came back as a vampire. You’ve seen me multiple times since I was twelve.��
“The thought of you at twelve haunts me,�� Raphael said darkly.
“Okay,�� Alec said, humoring him. “So have you seen a guy called Mori Shu anywhere around here?��
“I am trying not to make eye contact with anyone here,�� said Raphael. “And I’m not a snitch for Shadowhunters. Or a fan of talking to people, of any kind, in any place.��
Alec rolled his eyes.”
― Cassandra Clare, The Red Scrolls of Magic

“You’re the shape-changer, aren’t you?�� Ragnor said. “Magnus Bane told me about you. No mark on you at all, they say.��"No. No mark."He grinned around his fork. “I do suppose they’ve looked everywhere?”“I’m sure Will’s tried,�� said Jessamine.”
― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Prince

“Coaxing drunken Shadowhunters into making fools of themselves was a favorite occupation among the Downworlders, and this performance had been a tremendous success.”
― Cassandra Clare, The Midnight Heir

“Magnus threw the monkey a fig. The monkey took the fig.
"There," said Magnus. "Let us consider the matter settled."
The monkey advanced, chewing in a menacing fashion.
"I rather wonder what I am doing here. I enjoy city life, you know," Magnus observed. "The glittering lights, the constant companionship, the liquid entertainment. The lack of sudden monkeys."
He ignored Giuliana's advice and took a smart step back, and also threw another piece of fruit. The monkey did not take the bait this time. He coiled and rattled out a growl, and Magnus took several more steps back and into a tree.
Magnus flailed on impact, was briefly grateful that nobody was watching him and expecting him to be a sophisticated warlock, and had a monkey assault launched directly to his face.
He shouted, spun, and sprinted through the rain forest. He did not even think to drop the fruit. It fell one by one in a bright cascade as he ran for his life from the simian menace. He heard it in hot pursuit and fled faster, until all his fruit was gone and he ran right into Ragnor.
"Have a care!" Ragnor snapped.
He detailed his terrible monkey adventure twice.
"But of course you should have retreated at once from the dominant male," Giuliana said. "Are you an idiot? You are extremely lucky he was distracted from ripping out your throat by the fruit. He thought you were trying to steal his females."

"Pardon me, but we did not have the time to exchange that kind of personal information," Magnus said. "I could not have known! Moreover, I wish to assure both of you that I did not make any amorous advances on female monkeys." He paused and winked. "I didn't actually see any, so I never got the chance."
Ragnor looked very regretful about all the choices that had led to his being in this place and especially in this company. Later he stooped and hissed, low enough so Giuliana could not hear and in a way that reminded Magnus horribly of his monkey nemesis: "Did you forget that you can do magic?"
Magnus spared a moment to toss a disdainful look over his shoulder.
"I am not going to ensorcel a monkey! Honestly, Ragnor. What do you take me for?”
― Cassandra Clare, The Bane Chronicles

“Wait,�� said Ragnor, and he started to snigger. “Is this about your Nephilim boyfriend?��
“Our relationship is as yet undefined,�� said Magnus with dignity. Then he clutched the phone and hissed, “And how do you know private details about my personal life with Alexander?��
“Ooooh, Alexander,�� Ragnor said in a singsong voice. “I know all about it. Raphael called and told me.��
“Raphael Santiago,�� said Magnus, thinking darkly of the current leader of the New York vampire clan, “has a black ungrateful heart, and one day he will be punished for this treachery.”
― Cassandra Clare, What to Buy the Shadowhunter Who Has Everything

“I would leave at once, but it would be cruel to abandon a lady in a foreign land with a maniac.”
― Cassandra Clare, What Really Happened in Peru

“I wouldn't call that an instrument of music," Ragnor observed sourly. "An instrument of torture, perhaps.”
― Cassandra Clare, What Really Happened in Peru

“Ragnor looked very regretful about all the choices that had led him to his being in this place and especially in this company”
― Cassandra Clare, What Really Happened in Peru

“Magnus, his silver mask pushed back into his hair, intercepted the New York vampires before they could fully depart. Alec heard Magnus pitch his voice low.
Alec felt guilty for listening in, but he couldn’t just turn off his Shadowhunter instincts.
“How are you, Raphael?�� asked Magnus.
“Annoyed,�� said Raphael. “As usual.��
“I’m familiar with the emotion,�� said Magnus. “I experience it whenever we speak. What I meant was, I know that you and Ragnor were often in contact.��
There was a beat, in which Magnus studied Raphael with an expression of concern, and Raphael regarded Magnus with obvious scorn.
“Oh, you’re asking if I am prostrate with grief over the warlock that the Shadowhunters killed?��
Alec opened his mouth to point out the evil Shadowhunter Sebastian Morgenstern had killed the warlock Ragnor Fell in the recent war, as he had killed Alec’s own brother.
Then he remembered Raphael sitting alone and texting a number saved as RF, and never getting any texts back.
Ragnor Fell.
Alec felt a sudden and unexpected pang of sympathy for Raphael, recognizing his loneliness. He was at a party surrounded by hundreds of people, and there he sat texting a dead man over and over, knowing he’d never get a message back.
There must have been very few people in Raphael’s life he’d ever counted as friends.
“I do not like it,�� said Raphael, “when Shadowhunters murder my colleagues, but it’s not as if that hasn’t happened before. It happens all the time. It’s their hobby. Thank you for asking. Of course one wishes to break down on a heart-shaped sofa and weep into one’s lace handkerchief, but I am somehow managing to hold it together. After all, I still have a warlock contact.��
Magnus inclined his head with a slight smile.
“Tessa Gray,�� said Raphael. “Very dignified lady. Very well-read. I think you know her?��
Magnus made a face at him. “It’s not being a sass-monkey that I object to. That I like. It’s the joyless attitude. One of the chief pleasures of life is mocking others, so occasionally show some glee about doing it. Have some joie de vivre.��
“I’m undead,�� said Raphael.
“What about joie de unvivre?��
Raphael eyed him coldly. Magnus gestured his own question aside, his rings and trails of leftover magic leaving a sweep of sparks in the night air, and sighed.
“Tessa,�� Magnus said with a long exhale. “She is a harbinger of ill news and I will be annoyed with her for dumping this problem in my lap for weeks. At least.��
“What problem? Are you in trouble?�� asked Raphael.
“Nothing I can’t handle,�� said Magnus.
“Pity,�� said Raphael. “I was planning to point and laugh. Well, time to go. I’d say good luck with your dead-body bad-news thing, but . . . I don’t care.��
“Take care of yourself, Raphael,�� said Magnus.
Raphael waved a dismissive hand over his shoulder. “I always do.”
― Cassandra Clare, The Red Scrolls of Magic

“Ragnor [was] always happy to see chaos, but not be involved in it.”
― Cassandra Clare, The Midnight Heir

“By the name of Lilith," he drawled. "Hide the breakables. Hide the whole house. Christopher Lightwood is here.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

“Pardon me, but we did not have the time to exchange that kind of personal information," Magnus said. "I could not have known! Moreover, I wish to assure both of you that I did not make any amorous advances on female monkeys." he paused and winked. "I didn't actually see any, so I never got the chance.”
― Cassandra Clare

“Catarina hooked her hand around Magnus’s elbow and hauled him away, like a schoolteacher with a misbehaving student. They entered a narrow alcove around the corner, where the music and noise of the party was muffled. She rounded on him.
“I recently treated Tessa for wounds she said were inflicted on her by members of a demon-worshipping cult,�� Catarina said. “She told me you were, and I quote, ‘handling�� the cult. What’s going on? Explain.��
Magnus made a face. “I may have had a hand in founding it.��
“How much of a hand?��
“Well, both.��
Catarina bristled. “I specifically told you not to do that!��
“You did?�� Magnus said. A bubble of hope grew within him. “You remember what happened?��
She gave him a look of distress. “You don’t?��
“Someone took all my memories around the subject of this cult,�� said Magnus. “I don’t know who, or why.��
He sounded more desperate than he would’ve liked, more desperate than he wanted to be. His old friend’s face was full of sympathy.
“I don’t know anything about it,�� she said. “I met up with you and Ragnor for a brief vacation. You seemed troubled, but you were trying to laugh it off, the way you always do. You and Ragnor said you had a brilliant idea to start a joke cult. I told you not to do it. That’s it.��
He, Catarina, and Ragnor had taken many trips together, over the centuries. One memorable trip had gotten Magnus banished from Peru. He had always enjoyed those adventures more than any others. Being with his friends almost felt like having a home.
He did not know if there would ever be another trip. Ragnor was dead, and Magnus might have done something terrible.
“Why didn’t you stop me?�� he asked. “You usually stop me!��
“I had to take an orphan child across an ocean to save his life.��
“Right,�� said Magnus. “That’s a good reason.��
Catarina shook her head. “I took my eyes off you for one second.��
She had worked in mundane hospitals in New York for decades. She saved orphans. She healed the sick. She’d always been the voice of reason in the trio that was Ragnor, Catarina, and Magnus.
“So I planned with Ragnor to start a joke cult, and I guess I did it. Now the joke cult is a real cult, and they have a new leader. It sounds like they’re mixed up with a Greater Demon.��
Even to Catarina, he wouldn’t say the name of his father.
“Sounds like the joke has gotten a little out of hand,�� Catarina said dryly.
“Sounds like I’m the punch line.”
― Cassandra Clare, The Red Scrolls of Magic

“He lifted a glass. Ragnor and Catarina did not join him, but Magnus was happy to make the toast on his own.
"To adventure," he said, and drank.”
― Cassandra Clare, The Bane Chronicles

“Have you been drinking" Magnus said.
"All my life,"Ragnor said.”
― Cassandra Clare, The Lost Book of the White