Sixth Year, Winter Break
Thursday December 23rd 1976
Hanging rather precariously out of her bedroom window, Lily watched her owl depart; the bird flapped its majestic wings languidly, bracing them against the wind - a parcel attached securely to its claw with a piece of twine. The streetlights had already been lit - weeping small puddles of tangerine light onto the snow-covered sidewalks. The last remnants of the day were still peeking out from behind the townhouses on the far end of the yard, setting the roofs on fire with luminescence – making the sky blush and bruise.
Lily felt the tip of her nose start to tingle from the cold; she retracted her head, closed her window, and wrung her hands to warm them. Her desk was still littered with the lavender coloured paper she`d used to wrap her Christmas presents; it even smelled ever so faintly of lavender – pleasantly sweet and aromatic.
Over the last couple of weeks, she`d worked tirelessly on her presents. It had become a tradition of sorts to knit her friends something for the holidays. After so many scarfs and hats, she`d decided to try and fashion something a little bit more intricate. However, knitting all the individual fingers of a glove had proved to be quite the task. It had indeed crossed her mind to make them into mittens – four less fingers to worry about. Nonetheless, Lily wasn’t a quitter; she`d persevered – albeit with the help of a little bit of magic.
Their party had been rather diminished on the train back to King`s Cross. Remus and Sirius had boded their farewells on the platform – both staying at Hogwarts over the break; Peter had been off with Desdemona; and Mary had joined Roman and his friends. Consequently, it had just been Lily, Marlene, and James in their usual carriage.
A mere couple of months ago, Lily would`ve detested having to spend an entire train ride in such close and sole proximity to James. However, the time they`d spend together as prefects had softened her attitude towards him; she`d grown accustomed to his company. His brazen manner wasn`t merely a front, but his general outlook on life. He was indeed somewhat of a conceited show-off, but never to make anyone else feel less than he was.
During those few hours on the train, it had become apparent why Marlene had never detested James in the same way as Lily had; the two of them bantered and joked as brother and sister - he treated her no different than he treated any one of the marauders. It was rare to see Marlene relaxed; more often than not she was fidgety and quiet – drawn into herself and insecure to speak her mind.
The three of them had pleasantly talked and laughed about their classes, discussed their holiday plans, and complained about the bitter cold.
Halfway through the journey, Marlene had drifted off into sleep – slumped against the window, hand tucked underneath her cheek. Lily had urged James not to talk too loud to avoid rousing Marlene. Whilst James had indeed lowered his voice, he had consistently tried to make Lily laugh and break her composure - wriggling his eyebrows and flaring his nostrils on command. Surprisingly enough, it had worked; Lily had burst into a fit of giggles, rudely waking a rather discombobulated Marlene.
When they`d pulled into the station and had said their goodbyes, Lily had realised that it probably would be proper to send James a Christmas present of his own. They had spent so much time together as prefects; he would probably be expecting it.
Back at home she hadn`t been able to get the thought out of her head. She didn`t want to make a bad figure by not sending him something. It would be the right thing to do; this didn`t mean that they were friends or anything. The thought alone: absurd! She was only being civil. Yes: civil, polite.
Lily started tidying her desk, feeling satisfied with her decision to send James a pair of gloves as well. She hoped they would fit him; his hands were far bigger than hers, so she`d had to guesstimate the size by memory.
*
Saturday December 25th 1976
The doorbell rang, reverberating shrilly in the narrow carpeted hallway.
`Remember,` Petunia tugged forcefully on Lily`s sleeve – almost pinching her skin. `Best behaviour - don`tyou dare embarrass me.`
`Of course.` Lily nodded, quickly smoothing her dress.
`Vernon is a very level-headed sort of man – we can`t be dealing with your…well…` Petunia pulled a sour face – pursing her thin lips and making a peculiar sort of huffing sound. `You know.`
Since the beginning September, Petunia had been living in London, where she shared a flat with three other girls who all attended the same typing course. Aside from her classes, Petunia had a clerical job at Grunnings - a company that manufactured drills. On insistence of their parents, Petunia had come back home for the holidays. Though, on one condition: she would be allowed to bring her new boyfriend to Christmas dinner. Petunia had met Vernon at Grunnings, where he was a junior executive. It was quite saying something that he was making the commute all the way down from London.
Casting one last severe look over her shoulder, Petunia opened the door. Lily rolled her eyes; she wasn`t of legal age yet; she couldn`t even use magic if she wanted to.
`Vernon!` Petunia squealed, launching herself at the man standing on the doorstep.
Vernon Dursley was a very large man - in all directions. He had a mop of blond hair and a matching moustache. It was hard to determine his age; he was certainly older than Petunia, but not by a lot - despite his preference to dress like he was nearing forty. Petunia had shown her some photographs of him; Lily had yet to see him smile in a single one of them.
Petunia held firmly onto Vernon`s arm as she pulled him over the threshold - desperately clinging to his side like a barnacle to a ship. They exchanged some quick and rather uncomfortable pleasantries prior to Petunia sweeping them into the living room - showing him off to their parents. It was odd seeing their father, who was no small bloke himself, standing next to this man – yes he was indeed a man – who was supposedly her sister’s boyfriend. When had Petunia gotten this much of a grownup? It was still hard to wrap her head around the fact that they weren`t even living in the same home anymore – technically speaking.
`So, tell me,` Vernon asked later that evening as Petunia fussed over his plate. `Where do you go to school?`
`Oh, erm,` Lily swallowed and answered, smiling politely. `I attend a boarding school. It`s-`
Petunia broke her off by kicking hard against her shin - all the while keeping a scarily poised smile plastered to her face. `It`s a special school,` she said, turning to Vernon. `For special children, who are just a little different.`
`Oh. I see.` Vernon nodded, casting a condescending glance at Lily - his already red face taking on a new shade. It was apparent that he disapproved of all things different or out of the ordinary. He, himself, was the definition of normal.
`Where did you attend your education, Vernon?` their father asked civilly, spooning some peas onto his plate.
`Ah,` Vernon puffed out his burly chest. `I am a Smeltings man through and through. In my opinion the best – and only – way to do it.`
Petunia smiled proudly at this proclamation and rubbed her boyfriend’s arm; Lily chewed on her bread roll as she surveyed the couple – a feeling of disgust bubbling up in the pit of her stomach. What on earth did her sister see in this absolute dishtowel of a man?
For the remainder of Christmas dinner, Vernon wouldn`t stop talking about Smeltings Academy and his job as junior executive at the firm – boasting proudly. Lily had to stifle a couple of yawns; even their parents looked positively bored by his presence. She felt utterly relieved when the seemingly never-ending evening finally came to an end, and she could retire to her room - the monotonous drone of Vernon`s voice still reverberating in her ears as she pulled up the duvet.
Despite her absolute loathing of Vernon – or maybe even because of it – she wouldn`t be surprised if Petunia ended up marrying him. He was everything Lily wasn`t - and vice versa.
***
Sunday December 26th 1976
On boxing day, Marlene awoke to an earie quiet. It was as if the wind had ceased to blow against the half-timbered walls of Hollyhock. The sea looked practically undisturbed as she glanced through the curtains – glaucous and flat. It hadn`t stopped snowing for days and the sand reeds stuck out timidly above the vast white expanse.
The floorboards in the landing croaked and she heard the soft padding of footsteps edge towards her room.
There was a knock on the door. `Marlene,` it was her mother – her voice sounded hoarse. `Marlene, are ye awake?`
`Aye, mammy,` Marlene called back cautiously, sliding out of bed.
`I think ye better come down.`
Not even a minute later, she was bounding down the stairs towards the kitchen - quickly having donned a thick woollen jumper against the cold. The Daily Prophet was laying on top of the table - a gargantuan headline calling out to her. Marlene felt her heart sink to her stomach. This could only mean one thing: trouble. She edged towards it. Even though she knew that it wouldn`t bring her any good, she felt lured in by it - as by a movement seen underneath the water surface.
Her mother was pacing back and forth; there were dark lilac rings underneath her eyes, and her always so neat bun was slightly dishevelled – little tufts of fair hair peeking out of the top.
`MUGGLES ATTACKED IN CHRISTMAS CRISIS!` the headline blasted.
Gingerly, Marlene sat down and pulled the newspaper further towards her – the coarse paper scraping over the wood. Her mother read along over her shoulder – her breathing audible in the otherwise deathly silence of the kitchen.
`Last night, while thousands slept safely in their beds on Christmas night, over one hundred muggles all over Britain were attacked in their homes. The Auror`s office confirmed this morning that the attacks were magical in nature, and intended to cause harm.`
Marlene inhaled sharply and flipped to the next page – her fingers trembling.
`The attacks took place in a number of locations, apparently targeting families with ties to the wizarding world – those with magical relatives or a history of muggle-magical relations. Offences range from minor jinxes to – in some cases – the use of some unforgivable curses. There are no suspects at the present. The minister of Magic is expected to make a statement later today.`
Silently, Marlene closed the paper; she didn`t need to read more.
Her mother scraped her throat, sitting down on the opposite of the kitchen table, folding her hands on top of eachother – the blue veins crisscrossing like a roadmap underneath her translucent skin. It was evident that she didn`t know what to say, though it cut her deeply.
Bending over the table, Marlene dug her fingers deep into her eye sockets, fighting back the tears. The ticking of the clock was the only audible sound in the room – along with the oddly loud rushing of the blood in her veins.
`Nobody is safe anymore, are they?` Marlene asked, lifting her head.
`I`m afraid not,` her mother spoke, shaking her head resignedly, lips pressed tightly together.
Marlene sucked her teeth in sickening loathing. `I just don`t understand why people would do that! Why would someone actively go out of their way to cause another person harm? I just don`t understand.` Tears had started to flow over her cheeks; she wiped them away.
`Of course ye wouldn`t,` her mother replied. `It is incomprehensible.`
`And still this Voldemort,` Marlene swallowed - feeling herself get ill at the name. `Keeps gaining supporters – these death eaters. I don`t… I don`t understand.`
Her mother inhaled sharply. `A lot of fowk seem to think that this Dark Lord can give them a sense of security - a way back to the way things used to be - before the magical world and the muggle world started to mingle.`
`Och.` Marlene tore at her nails; she saw her mother eyeing her hands, though, she didn`t say anything about it.
*
Everyone seemed to cope differently with the news about the attacks. While Marlene`s first instinct had been to contact her brother and her friends to make sure they were alright – keep the line of communication as tight as possible – her stepdad appeared to have vanished off the face of the earth.
It wasn`t unusual for him to go on a bender - withdraw for a day or two, only to come back reeking of booze. These lapses had only gotten more frequent since he`d lost his job at The Ministry. When he was at home, Andrew and her mother were fighting more often than not; they argued about the war, about his drinking, about money, and - although Marlene knew her mother tried to hide it - about her and Danny.
A plate shattered in the kitchen; Marlene halted halfway down the stairs - cowering in the dimly lit stairwell. There were raised voices in the kitchen; nobody had put a silencing charm on the door this time. By the sounds of it Andrew had returned.
`It`s yer fecking responsibility! Nae mines.`
Someone slammed a cabinet; the cups clattered brutally.
`I ne`er sighed up to be their faither! So don`t ye try to haud me accountable, woman – there`s nothing to be accounted for!`
The door flung ajar and Marlene came to stand eye to eye with her mother; both their eyes widened at the same time.
`I`m sorry,` Marlene mumbled, trying to edge back up the stairs. `I didn`t mean to overhear. I`ll be up in my room.`
Her mother blinked, as if she had to return from someplace else. `Nay, we`re going outside.`
Not much later, Marlene and her mother were trotting down the narrow pathway down to the beach - their boots leaving deep imprints in the snow. Her mother walked out in front; by the way her back was bent, and her billowing robes, she looked much older than she really was. The air bit at their faces – smelling of ozone and salt. Being so close to the sea whilst the beach was covered in snow was quite a surreal experience.
They halted on the surf, gazing out over the concrete expanse of the sea.
Her mother sighed tiredly. `Sometimes I wonder if it was all worth my fowk`s approval.`
`Was what worth it?` Marlene asked, squinting her eyes against the breeze.
`Marrying him.`
Marlene`s eyes almost dropped out of her skull, gawking at her mother.
Her mother gave a humourless snort. `I thought ye knew,` she turned her head. `Why did ye think yer grandparents and the rest of my fowk suddenly started coming to Hogmanay again when we moved in with Andrew at the Loch?`
`I didn`t really think about.`
`Ye were probably too wee to realise.`
`Probably.` Marlene shrugged.
`If there was one thing my fowk hated more than me getting knocked up, it was me running around wild caring for two weans.` She rubbed her forehead. `All I`ve ever wanted was to get their approval and now I`ve got it…and I don`t know if it`s really what I actually want - it`s certainly not how I expected it to be.`
Marlene felt her heart hammer anxiously against her ribs. `Do you ever regret having us?`
`Do I regret having ye?` Her mother`s grey eyes sought out her own.
`Aye.` Marlene nodded.
`I ne`er regret having ye.`
`You don`t?`
`Of course I don`t.` Her mother reached out a hesitant arm and draped it around her back, pulling Marlene into her side. The wind roared around them, ruffling their hair and robes. `Yerself and yer brother are the two best things that ever happened to me,` she sighed.
`My, when did ye get to be much a big lass,` her mother sniffled, pushing her nose into Marlene`s short hair.
***
Late-December 1976
Despite of the vibrant fairy lights, which were strung flaccidly along the façades of the buildings, the street appeared bleak and wan in the dull winter light – as if someone had taken a rubber to the surroundings and wiped out all of the colours. The previously white snow had turned to grey slush – adding to the lugubrious feeling that mushroomed into existence on those lost days between Christmas and the New Year.
Mary had been invited to a party down the block by a boy her age named Ly. His parents would be out of town for a couple of days, therefore he`d taken advantage of the situation by inviting almost the entire neighbourhood. The invitation had come as music to her ears. When it felt like rhyme had lost all its reason, she could always loose herself in the company of others.
It had been an odd Christmas. Neither one of Mary`s older siblings had been at the flat; Jayden was still hauled up in his dingy flat with his mates, and Gabi had travelled out of London to meet her fiancé`s extended family.
Regardless of the constant ruckus provided by her younger siblings, Mary had felt oddly isolated ever since being at back home. There appeared to be a certain disconnect between her and her once so familiar surroundings – the contrast between boarding at Hogwarts and being in Peckham being far too stark.
Somehow, Mary couldn`t shake the nagging sensation that she`d missed too much in her time away. She felt like an intruder in their flat. She felt guilty for her parent`s affection; she didn`t feel like she deserved their care; she felt like she needed to take care of them instead.
In-between her cleaning job and her multiple responsibilities at the church, Mary`s mother had been out of the flat a lot. The cleaning job was something that she`d picked up the previous spring - when it had become apparent that their family wouldn`t have enough money to pay their rent.
A little over two years ago, Mary`s father had been laid off at his job - fired along with so many others in the bowels of the first worldwide economic recession since the end of the second world war.
He`d worked an office job at a plumbing and electricity company up in central London; the pay had been less than ideal, still, he`d been able to bring in enough money to take care of them - with the added bonus of a car, which he`d been able to lease. Beside the loss of his job, they`d lost that car as well.
Ever since, her father had been trying to find a new job - going on endless interviews – fruitlessly so. The job market in London was brutal – certainly for people with an immigration background. Only the thankless jobs were up for grabs.
Workers had been putting pressure on the new Labour government for years now; they were urging them to find a proper solution for the concerning rise in unemployment and the constant deteriorating living standards – trying to get them to reform. Conversely, at the same time, big employers had also been putting strain on the government. In the end, counter-reformations had been made by the government - reducing living conditions even further.
It was evident that her parents were trying to conceal their monetary struggles from her and her siblings. Nevertheless, Mary had noticed. They were scrimping wherever there could be scrimped.
This, in combination with another round of racist propaganda brought down by the ruling class, had contributed to a definitive heating of the kettle. It was becoming increasingly harder - not only to find labour - but to be a black person existing in London.
All throughout the year, the National Front had been organizing provocative marches through primarily black neighbourhoods – filing through the streets whilst fully protected by the police. Black people were not safe, and the armed forces let it be known.
`We`re on the forefront of a revolution,` Jayden had said, not long before the Notting Hill Carnival. `We`re the voice of a new generation. They don`t know the force of our anger. We`ve been silent long enough. I know I won`t take it anymore, and I know enough people who feel the same way.`
The absolute dauntlessness with which her brother had stated this had made Mary feel oddly young and naive. He seemed to have such a clear understanding of what he wanted his future to look like. Of all of her siblings, Jayden was the one who was truly paving a path of his own.
After their conversation, Mary had been too wrapped up in her personal misery to pay any real attention to what had happened that day in Augustus. Coming back to the remnants of it, she felt incredibly guilty.
The Notting Hill Carnival, an annual celebration of Caribbean culture, had turned from a festivity to a riot. Thousands of young black people had clashed with the police – angered by their continuous mistreatment.
An anger, which had been brewing and bubbling away beneath the surface, had started to steep over the edge. Everything that the older generation had been trying to contain and conceal was starting to show – slipping away between the crevices and gaps. A fuse had been lit and there was no extinguisher to be found.
Mary didn`t know how to talk to her parents about any of this; they weren`t people who talked about their feelings; they stowed them away and trotted on despite of them – complaining had never been a viable option. She dearly wished that Gabi was there to talk to. Jayden was only a phone call away, but his answers were always slightly less nuanced; Mary didn`t feel like she could actually talk to him.
On top of all these very tangible concerns, there were the magical attacks to hold into consideration. The attacks as a whole weren`t new, however, the victims had never been muggles before; it was an extremely disturbing development. Suddenly, the chance of her family being attacked - solely on the grounds of them being related to her - had been laid wide open on the table.
Mary had considered warning her parents – trying to explain it to them. However, she`d decided against it. Over the years, she`d tried to keep her family as separated from the magical world as humanly possible. Her parents knew there was friction, yet they didn`t know the extend of it. Mary liked it that way; she liked the thought of them thinking she was safe; she didn`t want them to worry. They worried too much as it was already, and the last thing she wanted to do was to ruin their Christmas by bringing down this absolute bomb of information.
In the end, it didn`t matter whether they did or didn`t know; there was very little she could do about it. They could hardly go into hiding as a family; it would only complicate matters.
So, to say it had been an odd Christmas was stating it rather lightly. It hadn`t even properly felt like Christmas, and it was hard to believe that the calendar was edging awfully close to the New Year.
When she was sure her parents would be sound asleep, Mary snuck out of her bedroom - clutching her heels in her hand, absolutely terrified to make a sound. Her mother would have an aneurism if she knew where she was going, what she was wearing, and what she was up to.
The street was deserted as she crossed it. Mary was greeted at the door by a girl whom she vaguely recognised and who instantly pulled her further into the flat.
`God, s`been ages since I last saw your face, love. How good of you to come!` The girl, who might have been called Neena, kissed her on both cheeks. `Ly will be chuffed you`re here.`
The music was obnoxiously loud, and the whole place smelled like fags, beer, and teenage sweat – not too different from the average Gryffindor common room shindig. While some of the partygoers were sitting to the sides, the majority was up and dancing; Mary joined them gladly – sliding between the throng of moving bodies.
When rhyme had lost all its reason and anger was what drove the soul to depths of desperation, there was always the comfort of the masses of those who felt the same.
///