Professor McGonagall
Dear Mary,
Petunia is finishing her A-levels at the end of this year, and won’t quit prattling on about how her and Vernon are going to school in Dublin together. I’m sick of the whole thing, and mostly sick of hearing about how she has it all figured out. Getting my Hogwarts letter, I didn’t think about the fact that even magical people need to find a career. I wish I was a pureblood, like James or Sirius. They have it good, don’t they? Magic and a never ending inheritance. Still, I suppose it’s not like I’m completely clueless, Professor Sprout set me up with much to think about this summer. Who knew Herbology was so viable!
Now, my master plan is to turn the Mandrakes on odious Vernon.
(P.S. I hate myself for turning into one of those future oriented people.)
(P.P.S I swear it happened by accident, like it came upon me all by itself.)
Wishing to be eleven,
Lily Evans
---
Dear Lily,
I remember the first spell we learned in Charms (something about levitation, or along those lines) being the most mind blowing thing I ever could imagine. It made everything I know suddenly not real. Now, it’s my biggest question why money wasn’t a part of that whole deal. I’m sorry you’re stuck with Petunia though, dear. No one in Brixton knows who they are, or who they’re going to be. In all probability, they’re going to be exactly who they are at this moment, just like I’ll probably be the same old Mary in ten years time. Still writing you letters, still living in the city, still wondering where I’m supposed to be cashing checks from.
The Mandrakes do introduce an interesting idea, though. Herbal warfare! I’m going to become a hitman.
(P.S. At least you’re not Marlene and her Holyhead Harpies obsession!)
(P.P.S. I love her for it, but Christ it can be a lot.)
Time traveling alongside you,
Mary Macdonald
Chapter 15
Mary and Lily were keen on their trips to the owlery together, always to ship off letters to home. Places where mail was sent were like an altar. After all, letters had started them talking, hadn’t they?
They nearly always went together now, ever since Mary had told, though Lily still didn’t know where the money was coming from. For now, she stayed under the same impression as Dumbledore, that Mary was so good at gossipping she got paid for it, though she could probably tell that wasn’t true.
Regardless, Lily still came with her loyally, and on this particular night, it was under the threat of bodily harm. A big, beastly owl was circling them insistently the whole time she attempted to wrangle one of the school birds for her own use. It was a huge and ugly thing, probably owned by some Slytherin who was equally odious.
For most of the time, it was just that: a particularly disgusting bird. That is, all the way up until it dive bombed poor Lily, slicing a divet out of her hand and partially up the backside of her exposed arm.
Mary didn’t panic, though. She had three little sisters and lived in a neighborhood too broke to go to the doctor. She’d seen cuts far worse than this one, and wasn’t phased by them. Letter forgotten, she refused the hospital wing and took them back to the dorm.
“Shouldn’t I see Madame Pomfrey, really?” Lily understandably implored as blood dripped down her hand, but Mary had an idea in her.
“Nonsense dear, she’ll have you out for the whole night. I’ll fix it,” Mary resolutely told her. Something inside of her needed to be right.
Something inside of Lily seemed to understand that. She nodded, and took a seat on her bed to be patched up.
Mary took first aid supplies from her trunk and laid them out on the mattress, kneeling in front of her friend with delicate care. She took one of Lily’s hands in each of her own and told her that this was going to hurt, but needed to be done just the same.
“When you use this hand to invent some cure or cast some spell, you’ll thank me!” She joked as Lily winced through the pain of cleaning out the wound.
“Magic really does make things painless,” Lily giggled back, her voice halfway breaking until Mary was finally done.
“Ah, don’t I make things painless enough?” She leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to the tips of her fingers, to each outstretched point where warmth or a pulse might be able to press its way through.
“You have no idea,” was the whisper she got back.
Mary took that as a sign, as a good one. She wrapped Lily’s cut in white bandages with slow, careful movements. She made sure that everything was right, that nothing ached or was uncomfortable in the slightest bit. She made sure of it, and felt the most useful she had in years. It was the first time Mary had ever fixed something all by herself. Saving the greatest step for last, she pressed a gentle kiss to the bandage.
“All better,” she murmured.
“You’re amazing,” Lily hummed.
“I can teach you, if-”
“You should do this forever,” Lily cut her off with complete awe in her voice. Something beautiful, like she was feeling her heartbeat stronger, ran through Mary’s body.
“Well we don’t want you getting hurt again, so hopefully that isn’t likely!” Mary was too caught up to understand what any words meant.
“I mean, you should be a healer, Mary.”
She rose to a standing position and sat down on the bed, her hand tracing the white bandage that protected Lily’s wound.
“I’m not-” She thought of her sisters. She thought of what she’d left behind. If she was a healer, she could save them.
“But you are,” Lily looked right at her. “You just healed me.”
She looked down, looked up, and smiled. Those green eyes were proof of some kind. They meant something, even when she hated to admit it.
“Where do you get off being a career counselor, eh?”
“Only for you.”
Mary never wanted to kiss anyone as badly as she did at that moment. She nearly would’ve, every inch of her body screaming for it, if Lily hadn’t done it first. One kiss turned to two, two kisses turned to three, and they did not stop until Marlene came thundering up the steps, until all they could do was hole up bed together, whispering of what they would do in London. Mary at St. Mungo’s, Lily opening her flower shop. They would share a flat and split the rent, with her sisters coming by on the weekends. Lily would sell her odd plants, and Mary would heal.
***
Days later, McGonagall spent much of Transfiguration discussing the trials and tribulations of performing magic while ill, due to the fact that half the class was wheezing through her lecture, down and out with a bad case of Hogwarts flu, and Peter nearly turned his hands into hankies. (They still couldn’t figure out who he’d kissed, as poor Pettigrew would go red in the face any time someone tried to mention his sickness.)
Even Mary herself was suffering, though Sirius wasn’t sick, so neither could she be. Only the girls, particularly Marlene, teased her mercilessly, hounding her for who the lucky bloke was getting some on the side. Even Lily, through her own sniffles (James was sick, so she was allowed), managed to get a few jabs in. The fact that they were the ones exchanging spit, however, went unsaid.
Though she’d started the term quite poorly, she was intent on doing better from now on. Healing courses were demanding. Helping people had never been so impossible. Still, she set to studying harder.
With Lily’s help, too, she’d set an appointment with Professor McGonagall, something she had not done since the OWL’s in fifth year. During that meeting she’d spent a lot of time staring blankly at a career packet and wondering what the hell she was good for, but she had a more well off idea now.
That idea sparked in a large part, or entirely, by Lily Evans and the giant owl that had taken a slice out of her arm. Mary decided, with the most intense sincerity she could at the time, that she was going to become a healer. She’d fixed something for someone, which she’d been doing her whole life, but it had taken this long to realize it was what she wanted to do forever. That was Lily, though. She brought out things inside Mary that she did not know even existed.
As the bell rang her classmates gathered their things to hustle out of the room, glad to be done with a classic McGonagall speech. She stuck around to wait for the Professor to give her the signal, trying to put her quills away in a nonchalant manner.
“You’re going to do amazing!” Lily murmured around her ear as she left with Marlene. Mary hadn’t wanted to tell too many people about the meeting. It felt stupid, like that would only invite trouble.
“See you at lunch!” Marlene called back to her as they exited. For all she knew, Mary was staying back for much needed extra practice.
The classroom became all too quiet, the last of her peers filing out, until it was only her and the Professor in that little room. Everything became suddenly very eerie, throwing her back to grand telling offs she’d gotten back in London.
“I was glad to hear you wanted to meet, Miss Macdonald. You’re one of the most promising students in my class, especially in the gossipping department.” McGonagall took a seat at her desk with a small, knowing smile. Mary felt slightly put at ease, in an odd sense. It was the type of sly comment she might make herself, the kind of thing that made her understand how McGonagall saw her.
“My OWL counseling session wasn’t very good,” she rambled. “I- I wanted to ask you more questions with a clearer mind.”
“Lovely,” Professor McGonagall replied sincerely. She motioned Mary to sit at the chair closest to her desk and folded her hands neatly into a stack.
The two of them were silent save for Mary’s overlarged blinking until the Professor coughed slightly, “What is it you wanted to ask me?”
“I’m interested in a career in, well, in healing.” She’d never been so disjointed in herself.
“Ah yes, a sound goal.” McGonagall replied seriously. She produced a small pamphlet with the wave of her wand. “This is the information for the Saint Mungo’s training program, if that is what you are interested in.”
“Thank you, Pro-”
McGonagall cut her off.
“It lists prerequisites you’ll take here at Hogwarts, as well as necessary scores.” She opened the pages to a little checklist and dipped her quill into ink simultaneously, crossing out every box.
“Prerequisites?” That wasn’t thrown into her vocabulary very often.
“Don’t fear, Miss Macdonald. You are in excellent shape in all required courses. It’s only a matter of achieving proper NEWTS scores, which should only be a mild trouble.”
“Mild?” Apparently, she was only currently capable of one word answers. She was in fact more shocked that it wouldn’t be a great trouble, and nearly laughed at the fact that McGonagall thought that much of her.
“You are a bright witch, Miss Macdonald. There is no doubting that, though many will try.”
“Thank you, Professor.”
“I don’t mince my words, so no thank you! Any help you need, it is my duty to be here.” The old hag was startlingly serious, looking Mary right in the eyes.
“Can I say thank you for that, Professor?” She smiled, and McGonagall smiled back.
“Not in the slightest,” she took a deep breath, like something was wracking its way through her chest. “You’d shudder at the amount of students coming through here to be Aurors, to go into the Ministry. We need more people like you, more than ever, to heal.”
For once, in all her misunderstanding of wizard politics, Mary understood that. They needed muggleborns to do more than disappear into Hogwarts as another student. They needed those students, who knew first hand what hate felt like, to do more than just assimilate. They needed, undeniably, students like her, students like Lily. She just couldn’t tell what they needed them for.
“I appreciate that, Professor,” she stood up confidently, feeling like her chest was puffed out and stronger. “Really, really, I do.”
“Of course, Miss Macdonald. I care about my students a great deal, and your year is something. It is no displeasure at all.”
With the most genuine smile she’d ever seen on her face, McGonagall led Mary out of the room, leaving her confused, sure, and worried all at the same time. Whatever the tail end of their meeting had meant, she was at least glad that things were more figured out. This was something her mother could be proud about, and her sisters could be fed on.
Hogwarts, with its faults, offered something more than unfamiliar, hostile walls. She made for the Great Hall, ready to tell Marlene what was going on, and even more ready to fill Lily in.