Marauders
Monday 4th October
Marlene felt exceptionally calm, for the first time in months. In the summer, she was worried about getting her acceptance letter to Hogwarts, then it was the organisation. A bit after that, she realised that she’d have to make new friends—since her muggle friends weren’t going to be around for it—and there was also the deal of having to give her muggle father the news. But now that she was confident she was on Lily’s good side now, and Mary seemed high as a kite, things seemed to slip seamlessly into place without much thought.
She was doing so well, in fact, that on Monday she was the first out of her dorm to be awake. Including Lily. The October sun was still rising over the peaks of the hills and the deep ochre beams shone in razor stripes over the unpleasantly cold floor as she crept down into the common room. Marlene inhaled for a moment, breathing in the woody common room air. The smell of the woodsmoke and parchment, and the stillness of it all. The emptiness is what reminded her of home the most. There was only four of them in the house: four noble McKinnons, all of whom made an extra effort to tiptoe around each other so as not to disturb anyone’s peace, and heavily disliked loud noises and conflict. The latter people often found hard to believe; Marlene had been told before at least a dozen times that she was truthful—almost too truthful—and that she shouldn’t speak her mind so much. But it wasn’t as though she was loud, nothing of the sort. The girl was known for being the shyest in the family, and she couldn’t see how she was abrupt yet almost mute all at once.
A floorboard creaked and spiralled down one of the staircases, difficult to tell which, and Marlene braced herself for having to share her solitude with someone else. Shoving her hands into the inside pocket of her cloak, she pulled out a quill and a scrappy piece of parchment, placed in there last night as a reminder to write back to her mother. What should she tell her? About the rosehips? Or would that make her worried? Sinking down into the best sofa, she swivelled around so her feet were on the sofa too, and her knees were bent upwards like a desk.
To Mama,
I got into Gryffindor—thanks to you and Danny I suppose. I’m not feeling that brave yet, but I’ve still got seven years to go! Things are going extremely well. Lily has warmed to me and Mary after an incident involving rosehips which had been given to the boys in Slytherin, and Lily’s friend was a victim. She was upset, but I’m not sure that her friend was completely undeserving (that is between you, me, Danny and Father).
Lots of love,
Marlene.
Reading the note back, her insides felt heavy like churning cement. Scotland was a long way from home, and she’d forgotten how far. It had been over a month since she’d felt that horrible scratchy living room carpet beneath her bare feet, or the house’s newly painted smell it always had that you could only catch when you’d been out of the house for a while, even though the paint wasn’t new at all. And then she unrolled the rest of the parchment, and started writing:
To Danny,
I’ve safely made it into Gryffindor house
“Marlene?” The unmistakeable voice of Lily Evans hissed through the weak light.
“Lily?” she whispered back.
“Yes! I just woke up. You weren’t in your bed. Normally I’m the first up!” Lily came over and sat down next to Marlene.
“I know,” Marlene said. Privately she felt a bit disappointed that she didn’t get longer on her own to write to Danny. “I was just writing to my mum and my brother.” She forced a tired smile at Lily.
“That’s nice,” Lily smiled back. Marlene thought she saw a distinct sadness in her eyes, but Lily didn’t give her any time to ponder. “I’ve just spoken to Mary, and she says that we should just leave her to sleep in.”
“Won’t she get into trouble?” Marlene began to worry.
“That’s what I was thinking,” Lily nodded, “but she doesn’t seem like the type that we can stop.”
“No,” Marlene began to laugh. “No, she isn’t.”
Lily smiled back awkwardly, and suddenly a large group of fourth and fifth years made their way down the steps from the boys’ dormitories. They were awfully raucous for this time in the morning, Marlene thought, as she winced at the shouting and a particularly loud boy who was talking someone through some kind of Quidditch technique. More people filed in, and Marlene’s precious moment disappeared into the past as though it had never happened.
Lily slapped her knees and got up. “Shall we get going?”
“Yes,” Marlene said. “Wait, I just need to get my bag.”
***
Lily was nice to talk to, once you managed to get her talking, which for Marlene was difficult at the start. On their way to charms, Marlene told Lily about Danny and what position he played in Quidditch, but Lily didn’t know how Quidditch worked at all, much less each player in a given team and the Chudley Cannons. Lily was talking about her older sister, called Petunia, when there broke out some commotion in the hallway ahead of them.
“Watch it, half-blood!”
Lily inhaled sharply and Marlene felt her own heart thud hard. The voice was slimy: Severus’ for sure.
And whoever the half-blood in question was responded without hesitation, “Watch yourself, Snivellus.” Lupin, maybe. Or James. Maybe Sirius Black. Without thinking, Marlene grabbed Lily’s hand and wrapped her fingers around her shaking hand. Marlene was taller than Lily anyway, for it to be awkward, she told herself. And besides, Mary would’ve done the same. Lily smiled at Marlene in thanks and they carried on walking as the feud continued.
“I know it was you that broke into our dorms the other night,” Severus said. “All of you.”
Lily squeezed Marlene’s hand, hard.
“Yeah?” another of the boys piped up. “Prove it.”
“I can’t, yet. But I will. I’ll get you back too, I promise.”
“Do you want to go to the toilet?” Marlene whispered to Lily, who shook her head in response and stared straight ahead at the charms classroom door.
“Your idea, was it, Black?” Severus said again, louder still. “Or yours, Potter? Had to have been one of you. Pettigrew doesn’t have the guts and dear Lupin here clearly hasn’t got the brains…” There it was again. That snide way he would go on about muggle-borns and half-bloods. In a way, Marlene thought, Severus was complimenting James Potter by accident, the stupid git. The pit in her stomach grew deeper, and Lily continued to cling onto her tightly.
“Move along now, gentlemen,” Professor Flitwick said, appearing from his classroom. There was a release in Marlene’s lungs. “Severus, you’re clogging up the halls, and you four are supposed to be in my class. Come along.”
Lily held Marlene’s hand all the way into the lesson, and didn’t let go until they sat down in their seats and had to get their books out. It felt strange, someone not letting go. It was nice, having someone who trusted you enough in situations like that, but Marlene couldn’t help but feel self-conscious—just a little bit—as they walked into the classroom together, joined at the hip, especially when Severus cast his eyes over Lily with that greasy sneer that was supposed to be a smile.
During charms, Marlene couldn’t concentrate. Mary still hadn’t made an appearance, and she was beginning to get stressed about her attendance record. What if she got into trouble? Lily seemed concerned, too, but Marlene guessed that it was because of Severus. But what was most interesting about the argument was Severus’ theory; it wouldn’t have been completely far-fetched to believe that whoever put the rosehips in the Slytherins’ rooms was in fact Sirius Black, Pettigrew, James Potter and Lupin. Besides—they’d caused enough trouble already. What would be stopping them from going further and sneaking around like that, causing medical problems, even if everyone did think it was warranted.
The bell for the end of the lesson rang, and Marlene and Lily placed their things into their bags in silence and headed for their room. They both had the same thing on their minds: Mary. Marlene began to worry that Lily liked Mary more than her—or a worse possibility, which she tried her very best to shove to the back of her mind—that Mary might like Lily more.
“Mary!” Marlene trilled, when they stepped into their room and put their things down. Mary was still a heap beneath her duvet—asleep or awake was anyone’s guess, as the girl lay still and breathing steadily.
Mary groaned in response, and Marlene invited herself to sit on the end of her bed, whilst Lily carefully searched her books for One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.
“You’ve missed charms,” Marlene said to Mary’s duvet. “Also, um,” she looked in Lily’s direction for a moment, before turning back to Mary, “Severus and James Potter’s friends had a row, and Severus thinks it was them who gave them the rosehips.”
“Oh my god,” Mary’s voice came from her bed, muffled and laboured. “He’s not blaming them because he’s obsessed with muggle-borns and stuff?”
“Actually,” Lily said in her clear fact-giving voice which she normally reserved for lessons when teachers asked her a question, “he told me yesterday. He makes a good point, doesn’t he? It’s just a question of how they did it.”
“I won’t put it past them,” Marlene added.
“And,” Lily said more pointedly, “McGonagall and Slughorn both think the same too. I overheard them the other day when I went down to see Slughorn about Sev’s detention; they said it’s a gang of marauders.”
“We,” Mary said, her head popping out from the tangle of sheets and blankets, and propping herself up on her elbow, “have got a gang on the loose.”
This was an interesting prospect. Marlene even went as far as thinking they were cool. If there was a gang around to play a few innocent tricks on people that deserved it, who was she to argue? Justice was justice. Lily was just bitter because she liked Severus, and the more Marlene learned about him, the more she wondered how he had any friends at all, let alone Lily Evans.
“I’ll say,” Lily said, taking a book out of her bag and sliding in the herbology one in its place. “They’re quite arrogant, don’t you think? Severus hates them.”
“Severus hates a lot of people, Lily,” Mary chimed.
Lily smiled back at Mary politely, but her nose didn’t crease, like the times when she’d found something seriously funny.
“Are you coming to herbology?” Marlene said, hoping that she didn’t sound too urgent for Lily’s sake.
“I’m not feeling well,” Mary stated. “How many points do you think I’d lose the house if I just stayed here?”
“You’re meant to go to the hospital wing if you’re sick,” Lily said, coming over to Mary’s bed. “You do look ill. We can take you down now?”
“I feel fine.”
Marlene looked at Mary very carefully. She was talking fine. Although, Marlene thought, Mary would still be talking in her grave. “No,” Marlene said. “If you’re unwell, you’re unwell. Madame Pomfrey will fix you in minutes.”
Mary rolled her eyes and grinned. “You’re like my mother, you.”
***
That evening, with Mary safely tucked into bed in the hospital wing (she had pretended to be more ill than she actually was when she saw Madame Pomfrey give a bowl of sponge and custard to someone else with a similar ailment), Marlene and Lily were sitting in the common room making their way slowly through the homework Professor Sprout had given them that afternoon. Lily pulled a certain face when she was concentrating—her lips pouted and sometimes she furrowed her brow when something was very complicated—but her big green eyes remained youthful and inquisitive, even when she was upset and there were tears welling in them. And a certain question was boiling in Marlene’s brain. It got to the point where she couldn’t concentrate anymore.
“Lily?” she said, unsurely, as a group of older girls burst into squeals at the opposite table, watching their chess set destroy itself.
“Hmm?” Lily said, scribbling away.
“How do you know Severus?” Marlene cringed inside at the question.
“Oh!” Lily said, looking up and grinning. “I’ve known him as long as I can remember. We grew up in the same village and everything.”
“Was he—is he nice?” Marlene said as casually as she could.
“Yes,” Lily answered. “Of course he is.”
The conversation seemed to stop there. Marlene looked back at her text and cursed herself for being so crude.
“I know he’s a snob,” Lily said quickly, tracing her un-inked quill over the outline of the big letters on a hardcover. “It’s just how he was raised.” She flicked back her hair abruptly—Marlene couldn’t help but wince; it looked like it hurt—and picked up her quill again, dipping it into the ink. “He’s never said anything like that to me.”
“Okay,” Marlene nodded, trying to make Lily think she was unbothered by this. But it was strange to be so selective about that kind of thing. Some wizards don’t think we should mix, she remembered Mama telling her one time, but that’s silly, Marlene. And your parents don’t have anything to do with magical ability. The most powerful wizard I know is muggle-born. It was true. Lily was one of the first to make her pinecone levitate, and managed to make her cushion float up so gracefully she forgot a person was even in control of it like that. “If he’s your friend, then he's my friend too. And Mary’s.”
“That is so kind, Marlene,” Lily said, smiling, that sad twinkle in her eye again.