Eternal Recurrence

November 3rd, 1976

Mary Macdonald spent the next two days in the Hospital Wing. The first one she was drugged heavily with a sleeping potion, as her body worked overtime to recover from the ordeal. Once she properly woke, the questions didn’t seem like they would ever stop coming.

“Do you remember anything before you were cursed?” McGonagall asked, for what felt like the hundredth time. 

Mary shook her head, biting down on the annoyance she felt. If she remembered who cursed her, wouldn’t she have said something? Dorcas, too, seemed unable to recall who had attacked her, although, in her case, Madame Pomfrey strongly suspected a memory charm had been used.

Mary had the honor of being the victim of the Imperius Curse. 

They had confirmed it through magical means, but Mary had known the truth since she’d woken up. She could remember the final incident clearly like it was burned into her mind–but the build-up was foggy. She had been sneaking through the halls after hours, after having set up a deal with a Hufflepuff seventh-year student to procure her favorite muggle sweets to share with her friends. They’d intended on meeting near the kitchens, but she hadn’t even made it to the Entrance Hall when it happened.

At first, Mary just froze, feeling the strange sensation that she was underwater, despite standing on the cold stone floor of the hallway. She was floating, somehow, in her own body. There were voices, but she couldn’t recognize them. She barely even heard them. Somehow, their wants became hers. She didn’t need to know who was speaking, because she agreed with them so completely they were practically an extension of herself. 

She had a vague memory of Dorcas Meadowes being slammed against a wall, but she couldn’t see her attacker. Whenever she tried, a cloud of smoke appeared instead of a person. No, maybe two clouds. They shifted between each other, hiding anything that she might be able to cling onto. 

She could remember pulling her wand out. She could remember seeing James and Lily burst into the Hall. She could remember casting the spell to slice. She could remember how much it had hurt. 

But she couldn’t remember who did it. And McGonagall’s questioning was making it worse. 

“Why don’t you just take my memories?” Mary asked, finally. “Isn’t that a thing? See who did it to me?” 

McGonagall sighed, gravely. “If your attackers made it part of their curse that you wouldn’t remember them, it would affect even your memory. Aside from finding physical clues or a confession, the odds of finding them are becoming slimmer.”

Mary let that knowledge nestle down within her. She cloaked it with slow burning anger and the strange humiliation of the last few days. They weren’t even going to do anything about this.

“So they’ll just go free? They’re just wandering around the school, even now?”

McGonagall looked pained but nodded. 

“What if they do it again?” Mary wished she’d sounded as angry as she felt at that moment. But she just sounded scared. 

“We’re going to enforce a partner system when it comes to traveling around the castle and grounds, so, hopefully, it will be impossible for anyone to be caught unawares. I strongly encourage any muggleborn students to stay in larger groups, and to avoid going anywhere at night.” She sighed. “The curfew will be lowered further, and I’ve asked prefects to perform nightly attendance checks in their houses.” 

Mary didn’t think that would stop them from hurting her if they still wanted to. She didn’t even think McGonagall believed it would.

“And if I want to leave? School, that is?” Mary asked, voicing the question she’d been considering all year. 

Professor McGonagall hesitated for a long moment. “You’re a talented witch, Mary. If none of this was happening, I’d be grieved by the mere idea of you abandoning your education. But,” she said, sighing again, “I would understand it, in this case. I truly believe you will be safer the more magic you know, but if you no longer feel safe at this school, I will support that. I can send a chaperone home with you to place protective charms on your home for added security.”

Mary nodded, looking down at her wrists. She had a faint, white scar on them now. The only mark of the attack. The only physical one, at least. 

“I am going to take some time to think about it, Professor.” 

*** In some ways, Mary Macdonald might have had a happier life

 if she’d left Hogwarts right then. But this is not a story about happy endings. ***

The current climate of Hogwarts Castle greatly overshadowed the fact of Sirius Black’s seventeenth birthday, and though he might have denied it, there was a large part of him who preferred it this way. Estranged as he was from his family, there would be no heirlooms gifted to him. No precious watches. No feeling as if he was finally coming into his own within his family.

Instead, he very much expected it to be a day like any other. And perhaps it would have been, were it not for the eternal overcompensation of James Potter. 

He had recovered reasonably well from the incident on Halloween, even if that recovery hinged on quite a lot of denial. After they’d recounted what happened to Dumbledore, the three of them had walked in utter silence back to Gryffindor Tower, too weighed down by the night to think of anything else. He hadn’t seen Lily much, since it had happened. He knew she’d been by the Hospital Wing several times, visiting both Mary and Dorcas. He hadn’t even known she was friends with Meadowes. 

The rest of Gryffindor Tower had been all over him since the story began to circulate the next day. Wanting every detail of Halloween, including why he’d raced after Lily Evans without a second thought, abandoning his own party. But James Potter had no desire to give them those details and no compunctions about hexing the next person who asked. 

Luckily, he’d had the rest of the Marauders at his side, glowering at anyone who attempted to sensationalize the event for their own self-interest. The only people he’d actually spoken to properly about Halloween had been the other boys in his dorm, satisfied as he was that Evans would do the same for her dorm.

If he was honest, he’d been avoiding Lily. The rumours varied on what exactly he and Lily had been doing in the Great Hall when they’d found Mary, but they hadn’t all been overly appropriate. He supposed it was partially his fault. He’d asked her out in some incredibly public ways over the years. But chasing after Lily Evans was a thing of the past.

Well, figuratively. Literally, it seemed he was very much chasing after Lily Evans, at least when she was insane enough to run alone into a Death Eater attack. That’s what he believed had been the root of what had happened on Halloween. Death Eaters. Whether they were full-blown or simply modeling their behaviour on the rest of the sick monsters out there, he didn’t know. But the thought of it made his blood boil.

However, today was not about him. Today was about his best friend. And he would ensure it was as good as it possibly could be. 

“Padfoot!” He shouted, ignoring the groans from various different beds around him. “Wake up! Presents!” He threw a wrapped box at Sirius’s bed and it landed with a satisfying thump.

“I hope you die a painful death, Prongs,” Remus grumbled, pulling open his curtains with a slow exhaustion. 

*** James’s death would be quick. 

But it would be exceptionally painful, to Remus at least. ***

“Wot’s happening?” Jack mumbled, struggling with his own curtains. Peter was also up, yawning profusely. Sirius was the last to open his curtains and looked genuinely shocked at the small pile of presents that had appeared on the foot of his bed. 

“Is this all from you lot?” He asked, gesturing to them. He held the box James had thrown in his lap, still blinking blearily.

James shook his head. “Nah, not all of them. I reckon they got sent to McGonagall and she passed them on.” 

“Who would send me presents?” Sirius mused, pulling the pile closer with his blanket and inspecting the labels. “Oh. Fleamont and Euphemia Potter.” He eyed James. “Why did you tell them?”

“I didn’t tell them anything,” he said, honestly. “They know everything. They probably still have your Daily Prophet birth announcement somewhere.” 

“My mum sent something, too,” Peter said, wrapping a blanket tightly around his own shoulders. “She’s been experimenting with muggle baking, so it’s probably shit, but still.” He shrugged, self-deprecatingly. 

Sirius Black looked at the last few packages on his bed. There was one from Remus and Peter, too. A little, poorly wrapped gift from Marlene. A box that likely contained chocolates from Ted and Andromeda. And an elegant box with a label written in fine, black ink from his Uncle Alphard. 

“Happy Birthday, Sirius,” Jack said, yawning. “Sorry, I didn’t get you anything. I’ll get a drink in you the next time we’re in Hogsmeade.” 

“I’ll hold you to that, Danes,” Sirius said, still staring at the label in front of him. It wasn’t long until all five of them were sitting on the floor of their dorm, as Sirius unwrapped his unexpected gifts one by one. 

He’d opened Andromeda’s first, and the chocolates were already half gone by the time he got to the next one, each of the boys happily munching away. Marlene had gotten him an enchanted penknife that could open any lock and untie any knot, even if the lock had been charmed. He flicked the blade in and out a few times, reveling in the feeling of it. 

*** Sirius Black later gifts this knife to Harry Potter in 1994. 

The knife breaks in the Department of Mysteries in 1996. ***

Remus had given him a history book on famous British duellists, with a few blank pages at the end to add on Sirius’s own achievements in that field. Peter had gotten him a new pack of Exploding Snap, which was really a poorly concealed brag given that Peter had not lost a game of Exploding Snap since their second year. Peter’s mother had sent an ugly-looking fruitcake that he suspected would remain uneaten unless they became really desperate. Euphemia and Fleamont had sent a full care package of snacks, sweets and a pair of thick, red socks monogrammed with S.B. 

When he opened his uncle’s gift, it was the first time he rather wished he had been alone. It was a small, leather box with a buckle, but he opened the attached scroll first. 

Dear Sirius,

 

I regret my lack of involvement in your life since you left my sister’s household. To be frank, she hid that knowledge from me quite effectively. I understand you have found sanctuary with the Potters, and am grateful for that. If you need another place to go, my home is open to you, and your mother need never hear of it, if you wish her not to. I made the same offer to dear Andromeda when she married Ted. 

 

Turning seventeen is an important milestone for any young wizard, and I do not wish for your coming of age to be overshadowed by your parents. So, I have enclosed a traditional gift for any young wizard. It is not a family heirloom, I’m afraid, as I’m rather short on those myself, but I did have it made for you especially. 

 

I hope to see you over the holidays, if that can be arranged. Happy birthday.

 

Love,

Alphard Black

 

Inside the box was a stunning silver watch, engraved with both his initials and an elegant rendition of the constellation for which he was named. Sirius turned it over in his hands, in a shocked kind of silence. James whistled. 

“That’s a nice bit of kit you got there, Pads.” 

“I’ll say,” Jack said, shaking his head. “I’m always forgetting how loaded you lot are.”

“Hey!” Peter argued, while James just laughed. Sirius remained looking at his new watch, a small part of him wondering what he might have received if he were still a part of the Black family proper. Wondered what his brother would receive in a couple of years. 

It was James’s voice, as it often was, that pulled him from his reverie.

“Oi!” He said, pointing to the remaining present. “You haven’t opened mine yet.”

Sirius rolled his eyes but unwrapped the cardboard box revealing… a stack of parchment. He looked up at James, incredulously, while both Remus and Peter started chuckling. 

“Uh, thanks, mate?” He said, checking the paper to ensure there was nothing written on it. “Really… useful?” There were a few quills at the bottom of the box, too. “Are you trying to get me to do more homework?” 

“No,” James said, annoyingly slowly. “It’s a project, of sorts. Something that I think you’ll get a kick out of.”

“Oh,” Sirius said, still baffled. “Can I… know what it is?”

James huffed as if it should all be obvious. “We are going to make a map.”

There were a few beats of silence, except for Remus and Peter’s muffled laughter. 

“Okay?” Sirius said, feeling rather like he was being pranked. 

“Of Hogwarts!” James said, almost irritated at the lack of response. “And everything in it. I’ve been looking into it for a while, but here,” he ruffled through the pages and pulled out one, seemingly at random. “I’ve only managed to do this much so far.” He tapped the paper with his wand, and a hand-drawn map appeared, filled with tiny, moving dots. All five boys shifted closer. 

“That’s… Gryffindor Tower.” Remus said, slowly. 

“That’s us!” Peter pointed to the five dots on the map representing them. 

“That’s mental,” Jack said, sitting back and shaking his head. Jack had decided a long time ago that it would be better not to get too involved in the adventures of his dormmates. 

“How did you do this?” Sirius asked, impressed. James preened.

“I’ll show you. We’ll do the whole school, then figure out a way to bind it together.” 

“And lock it,” Sirius said, his voice speeding up to match James. “We can’t have just anyone looking at it.” 

James grinned. “Happy Birthday, Padfoot.”

*** They will, eventually, be successful in creating a map that 

shows the entirety of Hogwarts. That map will be confiscated

 a few months later. It will then be stolen by Fred and George 

Weasley in 1989, before they gave it to Harry Potter in 1993. 

It is one of the only connections Harry has to his father. ***

Dorcas Meadowes may not have been able to remember who attacked her, but that didn’t stop her well-earned suspicion of her housemates. She’d been intending on following Mulciber and Snape around as much as she could, could remember watching them that afternoon in the library. Then, nothing. 

She was glad she’d been able to get a Patronus out to Lily and McGonagall before they attacked her. Both she and Mary’d probably be dead, otherwise. 

Professor McGonagall had asked surprisingly few questions of her after she’d woken up. She seemed confident that Dorcas had been the victim of a stunning spell and memory charm, and that it would be difficult for her to remember much of anything useful. She complimented her patronus and thanked her for looking out for her fellow students while reminding Dorcas to avoid involving herself in anything that could lead to her getting hurt again.

Professor Slughorn, her head of house, had been horrified by her condition when he’d visited her in the Hospital Wing, even if she wasn’t the one who had almost bled out. He’d promised, emphatically, to do whatever he could to find those responsible. 

She didn’t believe him. 

She’d stayed in the Hospital Wing as long as they had let her, dreading going back to the Slytherin Common Room. She may not remember what had happened, but someone there did. And likely still held it against her. 

A suspicion that was confirmed when she slipped through the common room and up the stairs to her dorm, hoping to finally get some quiet. 

Her bed was gone. In its place, was a torched pile of burned blankets on the charcoal skeleton of her four-poster bed. Her trunk had been smashed open, her clothes and books burned alongside her bed, fragments peaking through the ash. 

She could see the back cover of A History of Magic in the pile. The sleeve of her favourite sweater remained somehow unburned, the rest of it mangled beyond repair. The photos of her family, her Hogwarts letters, a small model broomstick, everything she owned. It was all gone.

She swallowed hard, looking around the room. It appeared empty, but she hardly knew anymore. Blinking back tears, she sifted through the remains of her life for anything worth saving. 

After a few minutes of searching, she found something. A small carved Hippogriff she’d bought for herself in Diagon Alley over the summer. It was charred, but still solid. She rubbed some of the soot away, her hands already filthy with it. Then, with a sniff, she turned and left the Slytherin dormitory for what she hoped would be the last time. 

*** It would not be. But more on that later. ***

Lily wanted to believe that if Dorcas had gone to Professor Slughorn, he would have punished those responsible for destroying her possessions. He would have ensured that the Slytherin dorms could be a safe place for her, allowing her to finish her schooling in the house the hat had chosen for her. 

However, she didn’t believe that. Not really.

This meant when Dorcas found her, her hands covered in soot, looking stricken, Lily did not encourage her to go to her Head of House. Instead, she led Dorcas into the Gryffindor dorms, sat her down on Lily’s own bed, and pulled out her wand. 

Within minutes, she’d shuffled the six existing beds closer together, creating a small gap between Lily and Marlene’s. Then, grabbing a pile of extra blankets from the wardrobe, she transfigured them into a skinny cot, complete with thick, soft blankets and a floating curtain for privacy. 

She turned back to Dorcas, who was watching her with an unreadable expression.

“You’re not going back there,” Lily said, with no room for argument. 

Dorcas shook her head, then stared at the bed Lily had made. “You… you want me to stay here?”

“Where else?” She asked. Then sat next to Dorcas, wiping some of the soot off her hands with a damp towel. “You’re a target in your own House. You’ll be safe here.” She looked at the bed she’d made. “It won’t be as comfortable as some other options, but–”

She stopped mid-sentence as Dorcas hugged her. Dorcas hadn’t hugged anyone besides her mother in a very long time. Lily squeezed her back, and they sat like that for a long time. 

Eventually, Dorcas got up, and sat on the edge of her new bed, awkwardly. That, of course, was when the rest of the dorm, minus Mary, flooded in, then paused in surprise. 

“What… Happened to our dorm?” Adelaide asked, clearly trying to be reasonable.

“Is that a Slytherin?” Connie asked, clearly not trying to be anything of the sort. 

“Hi Dorcas,” Marlene smiled, then sat on the new bed with her. Lily was grateful that at least one person seemed to be unbothered. 

“Dorcas is going to stay here,” Lily said, in her best prefect voice. “She’s not safe in her own dorm, and she’s our friend.”

“She’s not my friend,” Connie said, and Lily had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. 

“Perhaps not yet,” she said, gritting her teeth together. “But she’s needing somewhere to stay, and this is where it’s going to be.” 

“So we get even less room?” Connie asked, looking around their admittedly cramped dorm. “We were already pushed to the limit, and you want a whole extra person in here. What about the bathroom? It will be a nightmare.”

Lily couldn’t help but feel like Connie was being the slightest bit dramatic. “Well, given that I will be giving you all the password to the Prefect’s Bathroom in return for sharing your space, I don’t think it will be much of an issue.”

Adelaide and Connie shared a look. The Prefect’s Bathroom was nice. 

More than that, they both realized that they were now arguing with a resolute Lily Evans. Which as Petunia Evans, Severus Snape, and James Potter would all tell you, was an entirely lost cause. 

“Welcome to Gryffindor,” Adelaide said, with a touch of irony, as she went to her own bed and dumped her bag. “Where are all your things?” 

Dorcas shrugged. “They burned them. I… I don't know who. I came back after the Hospital Wing and it was all gone.”

The girls sobered at this, and not only at the reminder of Dorcas’s aid in saving Mary. They’d all spent years packing their lives into their trunks, and the idea of losing it all was chilling. 

“We’ll get you some clothes and supplies,” Lily said, sounding more confident than she felt. She didn’t even have the galleons to replace her own ripped tights. “The older girls are always getting rid of things, and we’ll tailor them to fit you.”

“Alice has a whole box she wants me to pick through,” Marlene yawned, not bothering to cover her mouth. “We can start there.”

Dorcas tried for a smile, but it looked strained. Lily could understand that. 

“You might want to try for a rest,” she said, getting to her feet and grabbing her school bag. “We’ve got a couple of hours until dinner. We’ll wake you for it.” 

The girls filtered out, each grabbing whatever they’d come in for, and Lily waved goodbye as Dorcas remained sitting on her new bed. 

*** Dorcas Meadowes will continue to cast protective enchantments around 

her while she sleeps for the rest of her life. But, even so, she will never feel 

more safe than she did in the Gryffindor girls' dorm on the cot transfigured by Lily Evans. ***

A few hours later, the Gryffindor sixth-year boys dormitory was packed to the absolute brim. 

All five boys were present, each wearing party hats that periodically shouted birthday wishes to whoever was closest. Frank Longbottom was lounging on a hastily transfigured sofa in the corner, chatting with Peter while Alice Selwyn threw scrunched-up bits of paper into a floating goal hoop, cheering loudly whenever she managed to land one. 

Adelaide and Connie sat on James’s bed, which had been awkwardly pushed against the wall to create more room. James was distracted by Sirius and Marlene, who were arguing about whether Sirius was ready to leave school now that he was of age. James was decidedly on the side of Marlene, which was the side of absolutely-fucking-not. 

Remus, who had graciously offered up his own stash of snacks and sweets for the impromptu birthday party, was nursing a beer while he spoke with Lily Evans, the two lamenting their new responsibilities of counting every single resident of the dorm each night. 

They’d only been missing one name on their report that evening, Mary Macdonald. One that would be missing no longer as she poked her head through the half-open door to the boys’ room, an uncomfortable-looking Dorcas Meadowes in tow.

“Mary!” Marlene shouted, jumping up and hugging her tightly. The rest of the room cheered incoherently, and Mary blushed as she surveyed them.

“Pomfrey released me about an hour ago!” She said, brightly. “And I came back to find our new roommate,” she gestured to Dorcas, who was now the focal point of everyone’s attention, “so I thought we’d come wish Sirius a happy birthday.”

Sirius hugged Mary next and secured an extra birthday hat to her head. “Nearly died and still thinking about me. What a romantic.”

Mary shook her head and began to mingle, while Dorcas attempted to cross the room to get to Lily. 

“Inviting Slytherins to these things now?” Jack asked, confused.

“Apparently,” Connie replied, with more bitterness than was warranted. 

Dorcas stalled, looking like she was biting back a response, but before she or Lily could say anything, Marlene threw a pillow soundly at Connie’s head. Most of the room began laughing, except Adelaide, who loyally remained silent. 

“She saved Mary’s life, you know,” Marlene said, this time to Jack, who likely hadn’t known. “She’s staying with us so the rest of her psychotic housemates don’t try to even the score.” 

“Right,” Jack said quickly, blushing. “Sorry, Meadowes.”

Dorcas shot Marlene a furtive smile, then joined her next to James, the three of them immediately beginning to talk about Quidditch. 

*** This was the first night in a long time that Marlene 

hadn’t been thinking about Adelaide. It would be a 

while longer before she realized what had changed. ***

James had been, perhaps, less surprised than the others when Dorcas had shown up in his dorm room, thanks to Adelaide having already filled him in on much of the day’s events. She was less than thrilled by the situation. He, despite his desire to be an attentive and understanding partner, could not quite connect the dots to her displeasure. 

“It’s a good thing, isn’t it?” He said, not for the first time. “She needs a place to stay.”

“Yes,” Adelaide said, with a sigh, “but it’s not like we have an overwhelming amount of room to begin with. Why can’t she go to one of the Professors or something?” 

James shrugged. “They’d probably just make her go back to her dorm, and then one day she’d turn up dead. I can see why she’d avoid that.”

“James!” Adelaide admonished, looking shocked. “No need to be that graphic.”

James hadn’t felt like he was being graphic at all. In fact, he’d been censoring his true thoughts. “It’s true though, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Adelaide allowed. “But it’s going to interrupt all of our routines. Not to mention Lily has already started asking everyone for their old clothes, and we all have to give them to her or we feel inescapably guilty.” 

“Why does Evans need your old clothes?” James asked, not at all following her train of thought.

“Well, Dorcas’s things were destroyed, weren’t they?” She said, not sounding particularly sympathetic. “She doesn’t have any clothes or books or anything anymore. And she’s muggleborn, so I guess it’s harder to get supplies or something.”

James couldn’t help but feel uneasy about Adelaide’s callousness regarding Dorcas’s situation. He couldn’t imagine anything more horrible than being driven out of his home, everything special to him destroyed in the process. He thought that giving up some space or some old clothes seemed like a small price to pay to ensure Dorcas had a place to stay. 

He felt strangely proud of Evans, not that he’d ever admit it. She was impressively resolute. 

“Rumour has it that Mary might leave,” Adelaide went on, “so I suppose the space might free up. A lot of muggleborns are leaving, you know, after the attack.”

He did know. And he wished there was something he could do to stop it. 

*** James Potter was beginning to realize that Adelaide Carpenter 

would not be the person beside him in this war. 

It would take him longer to do anything about it.***

As the night progressed, even the horror of the last few days couldn’t truly damage the spirit of teenage revelry, which meant Lily Evans found herself scrunched between Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, the room feeling comfortably warm and fuzzy thanks to the beer in her hand. 

Sirius put one arm over her shoulders, ruffling Remus’s hair as he did so, then clinked his own bottle against hers. 

“You know, Evans, you didn’t get me anything for my birthday,” he said, tutting loudly. “I thought you were meant to be the nice one.”

“Aye, right,” Lily laughed. “Nice compared to who?” 

“McKinnon?” Sirius said, looking at the blonde who was now trying to beat Alice’s record in the scrunched-up-paper-through-the-hoop game.

“Marlene’s nice!” Lily said, loyally. They were then interrupted by a loud whoop as Marlene got another goal and Alice swore, loudly. “She’s competitive,” Lily allowed, “but nice.” 

“She’s not half as competitive as you,” Sirius snorted. 

“You’re still angry about the duel, are you?” She asked as Sirius slumped further down the sofa cushions. “God, you’ve got a drink in you, haven’t you?” 

“I’m of age,” Sirius said, petulantly, “I can drink as much as I want.”

“That you can,” Lily said, amiably. “You would have won that duel, Black,” she admitted. “I would have gotten a few punches in, but you would have won.”

Sirius, despite himself, glowed. “Is that your birthday present to me? Admitting my superiority?”

Lily flinched hard at the word choice, leaning further into Remus to create space between them. Sirius, after a few beats of alcohol-induced slowness, realized his mistake. 

“Fuck, Evans, I didn’t mean like that, I meant…” He spoke quickly and inelegantly. “I don’t think about you, you know that, right? About anyone!” He was getting more and more distressed which, oddly, comforted Lily.

“Relax, Black,” she said, shaking her head. “If you’d meant it like that, I’d already have hexed you.”

He smiled, with less casual ease than before. 

“I don’t doubt that.”

*** Sirius Black dies in 1996 falling through the Veil of Death 

in the Ministry of Magic. Molly Weasley avenges his death in 1998. ***