Lily
Sunday 5th September 1971
The past week had been spent mostly in the library or in lessons. And if Mary and Marlene weren’t doing that, they were in the hall eating or in their beds sleeping.
Mary groaned from under her duvet.
“What?” Marlene smirked, toothbrush in mouth. She looked over to Lily’s bed: it was empty, the duvet flattened perfectly over the top of it, the corners folded in neatly. If she hadn’t known better, Marlene would have thought that no one was sleeping in that bed at all.
Mary pushed the linen from over her head, revealing a pair of puffy eyes, and despite her fatigue, a wide grin. “When does it end? All this work. Week one and they’re already torturing us.”
“I don’t think it’s so bad,” Marlene shrugged, going back into the bathroom to spit out her toothpaste. She could still hear Mary prattling on even in another room.
“I think it’s cruel,” she was saying. “It’s not like I’ve grown up in a wizard household. Getting to grips with using a wand was one thing”—she was now reeling off the list with her fingers—"having to dip my pen—oh sorry,” she said in mock sympathy, “my quill in a bottle of ink, remembering the most ridiculous passwords for portraits which are actually doors, and those bloody moving staircases, just to top it all off.” She fell back onto her bed and sighed.
Marlene opened her cupboard and reached for her jumper, shivering.
“Where’s Lily?” Mary asked, after a thoughtful pause.
“I don’t know.” Marlene pulled the jumper over her head.
“She must be hanging around with someone else.”
“Maybe. Maybe she doesn’t like us very much.” Marlene said, plainly.
“Let’s go downstairs for breakfast,” Mary declared, getting up from her bed and putting a clean top on. Marlene busied herself, putting her books back into a vaguely neat pile.
“I don’t think that’s happening, mate,” Marlene said, the smirk creeping back onto her face.
“Why?” Mary said, distracted.
“Look at the time. More like we’ll be going downstairs for lunch. I just hope there will be some bread left.”
“I’m so tired. I think they should extend breakfast time until at least two p.m. so that us late-risers are equal with everyone else.”
“Or give us way less work?” Marlene suggested.
“Way less,” Mary agreed, opening the door and holding it for Marlene.
“Thank you,” Marlene said, passing through.
“Don’t worry,” Mary chuckled, bearing a slightly quizzical look.
Mary, who had informed Marlene this just Friday morning, found Marlene’s “over-politeness”—as she liked to put it—oddly endearing. “Why?” Marlene had wheedled. And Mary had only shrugged in response. Always doing little gestures for people, letting them pass through doorways first, or taking extra care to say goodnight to Marlene and Lily, or pouring tea into other people’s mugs before her own, Mary carried herself with an exuberant attitude. Always smiling, always patient, always gentle, Marlene couldn’t help but feel easy around her. Too easy, Marlene had started to tell herself yesterday, for Mary had a way of making you talk. And now, even though she had known Mary for little over a few days, she already knew Marlene’s most embarrassing, most obscure secrets. She did not feel shy around Mary. And, although she didn’t want to admit it, it wasn’t quite the same with Lily around. Mary, really, was the only person she was herself around.
The cold air of the stone-grey corridor bit Marlene’s face. A shiver ran down her spine, almost ticklish, and she sobered. That was stupid, thinking like that, she told herself. Mary wasn’t any different from anyone else. You’re just soft, Marlene thought.
“Which staircase is it?” Mary said, tapping Marlene on the shoulder. “Or do we have to wait for it to swing round again?”
“Um,” Marlene hesitated. She looked at the floor for a moment and bit her lip. “It’s this one. On the right.”
***
“Okay, we need to make a gameplan,” Mary said, leaning over the table to pour some juice into her cup. Marlene had been right: breakfast had passed, and people were now filing in, during what was their middle of the day. She had to stifle a smug smile as she realised she was right. “I still have piles of questions I need to do. And I think Professor McGonagall wants us to do an extra reading about small rodents; I don’t know anymore.”
“Not doing a reading about yourself, are you? That would be waste of time,” Marlene said, spooning beans onto her toast.
“Yes, Marlene. But I’ve heard we’re talking about cockroaches next week, so you might want to be prepared that people will be saying some nasty things about you,” Mary laughed, rolling her eyes as she took the beans off Marlene. “Ah, a British delicacy. Never gets old. Tell me, why does beans on toast work for breakfast, lunch and tea?”
“I don’t know,” Marlene said, grimly cutting the slice of toast. “It tastes good, until you really think about it and you realise what it really is.” Swallowing hard, she stared at the meal. The smell of the tomatoey sauce reminded her of her dad, back when he was still around.
“Like eggs and cheese,” Mary said. Promptly, she reached into her bag and produced a book.
“What’s that?” Marlene asked, mouth full.
“I’m gonna get ahead now. So we don’t have to stay up late in the library again. I fear we may get on Madam Pince’s bad side again.”
Last night, the stingy librarian had threatened to report them to Professor McGonagall if they stayed any later than midnight. So, naturally, Marlene and Mary had tried to hasten in finishing the first part of their potions work, only to look up the clock and realise that two more hours had passed. Just as they were leaving, Madam Pince had spotted them sneaking out from her desk, and taken away five points from Gryffindor.
“I don’t want to go back in there,” Marlene said, cutting up the toast into even smaller pieces.
“Nah, it’ll be fine,” Mary assured her. “We’ll just be gone by teatime.”
They sat in silence for a minute, eating and pushing food around the plate. The clock had just struck two, and the hall was getting louder with chatter, although most of the table space had been taken up with books and pieces of parchment anyway—Marlene and Mary certainly weren’t the only ones suffering with being overloaded with work.
“Marlene,” Mary said, chewing carefully and looking up at the ceiling as though deep in thought, “is there a way to stop my wrist hurting when I write? Like, is there a charm you could do on me to make it stop. Because it feels like my hand is going to fall off if I carry on like this.”
Marlene thought for a moment. Her left hand, rested on the table, felt sticky with sweat mixed with black ink stains from yesterday, and a pleasant smell of salty potatoes was wafting near to where they sat. A table behind them erupted with laugher, and several older kids were animatedly quizzing each other on things: “How do you spot the difference between fossils and Antipodean Opaleye eggs?” and “Where do Nundus live?”, and the clatter of cutlery echoed around her.
“What about self-writing quills? My mum bewitched one a few years ago so that she didn’t have to write so much. I don’t know how you get hold of one though.”
“Can’t we just find a charm for it? We could look in the library,” Mary suggested. And then, more begrudgingly, “When we have time.”
“I don’t think it’s that simple,” Marlene continued. “But, I could write to Danny. He could send us one.” Marlene felt a pang in her chest; she had forgotten to write to him. More than that, it had completely slipped her mind. She had barely thought of home at all, she was so preoccupied with turning in work on time and to a good standard, and Mary…
“Whatever,” Mary shrugged. “I think I can live with it for now. Although, what on Earth is going to happen when we get to O.W.L.s? I think I might die.”
“Now, now,” Marlene grinned, trying to cover up the grief which felt plainly displayed upon her face. Although Mary didn’t seem to have noticed anyway, as she was turning a page of her book. “What book is that?”
“Hogwarts: A History.”
“You’ve read that one before, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” Mary said. “But I’m feeling quite behind. Because I’m a Muggleborn and stuff. Can’t let people think I’m stupid.”
“Mary,” Marlene said, astounded. “People do not think you’re stupid. You’ve been answering questions correctly in every lesson.”
“Thanks,” Mary said, giving Marlene that same mischievous smile she’d been giving everyone who was nice to her all week. “Are you finished? Shall we just go up to the common room?”
***
The only seats left in the common room were the ones shoved into a corner by a draughty window which rattled in the wind. As for the chairs themselves, they appeared to have been used by cats as scratching posts for at least the past twenty years.
“How kind of them to have made a reservation for us,” Mary exclaimed as they dumped their things down, looking at the best chairs right in front of the fireplace.
Marlene looked around the common room. Everyone seemed busy, and she couldn’t recognise a single person. “Do you know where Lily could be? At all?”
“No,” Mary said, getting out her history of magic book and setting down the bottle of ink. “I really hope she’s not on her own. It would be such a shame, don’t you think?”
“What about that boy she told us about at The Sorting? The Slytherin boy?”
“I don’t really remember. I was so nervous I couldn’t tell you a thing about that night.”
“Never mind,” Marlene said, still concerned in spite of herself, and started looking at various diagrams of stars and planets. She couldn’t help it, but she kept thinking about that boy. Who was he?
***
Marlene was just about to draw the curtains of her bed, when the door cracked open.
“Hello,” a delicate voice said.
“Lily!” Mary said.
“Are you okay?” Marlene asked.
“Yes,” Lily smiled, turning her head to the side to take out an earring. “I’ve been doing work. We’ve got so much to do!”
“Yes, but where were you?”
“The library,” Lily stated.
Mary turned her head and made an indication with her eyes at Marlene. She’s lying.
“Okay.” Mary said. “Well, we’re glad you’re okay. We missed you today.”
“Oh,” Lily said, placing her hand over her heart. “That is so kind, Mary.” She climbed into her bed. “Goodnight, both of you. Marlene.” She eyed Marlene closely, smiling gently, and drew the curtains.