The Last Laugh
She woke up to Goose’s yellow-eyed glare. They were almost like headlamps, the way his eyes shone in the dark of her four-poster, emanating a faint, ghoulish glow. Marlene guessed it had to be about six o'clock in the morning. She contemplated trying to go back to sleep, but couldn’t see the use in it. She was wide awake already, thanks to Goose’s interruption.
It was Wednesday morning. James had posted the Quidditch team list in the common room the day before, and Marlene had been almost shocked out of her mind to see her name next to the position of beater, so convinced was she that she’d messed it all up.
“Marlene, all you did was demonstrate to everyone else what they should be aiming for!” James had told her. “It was exactly the kind of thing a beater needs to be doing. Whacking bludgers with inhuman strength. You know that.”
Marlene didn’t think she’d ever been so grateful for James Potter. He wouldn’t hear a word of her apology, although she had made sure to go out to fix the stands. It was their warm-up match in a week and a half, and she didn’t want to compromise the game.
She shifted the blankets to start moving out of her bed, and narrowly avoided a swipe from Goose’s razor claws. She swore, almost falling to the floor. What that cat’s problem was, Marlene didn’t even want to know.
“Piss off, Goose.”
Goose hissed and leaped through her bed curtains like the ridiculous drama queen he was. Someone let out a yelp from within the room, and Marlene heard scuffling. She pushed aside her curtains to see Goose strutting away from Sash, who was standing in the centre of the room, fully dressed for the day. Claw marks trailed down the side of Sash’s tights, and Marlene was momentarily distracted from the fact that they were face-to-face for the first time in a week.
“You need to get your cat sorted out,” Sash bit out, and then turned and strode out of the room.
Well, then.
Marlene chewed at her lip as she tried to push down the same old rising tide of frustration and hurt that reared its ugly head, begging to let itself run its course through her bloodstream. She took a deep breath as it slowly ebbed away.
She’d had to sit herself down after Sunday and decide enough really was enough this time. Losing her cool was a terrible idea, especially in the middle of Quidditch. She couldn’t bear to throw a game like that, or the guilt that would come after at letting everyone down. She still couldn’t understand why Sash had even been there at the tryouts, but decided it simply didn’t, couldn’t matter anymore. Sash was nothing but a reminder of a ruined friendship, and that was why Marlene couldn’t stand to be near her.
It didn’t matter if seeing her made Marlene want to dive headfirst into the Great Lake and drag Sash down with her: there were more important things, like Quidditch, and even more importantly, winning. And that was final. She couldn’t afford to think otherwise anymore.
That was why, instead of stomping into the bathroom, Marlene stood up with forced calm, and tiptoed her way around the morning. It was for the best. She didn’t want to face Mary’s wrath at being woken up so early.
She was on her way out when Lily poked her head around her own bed curtains.
“Oi, wait for me? I’ll be two seconds,” she whispered. Marlene traipsed back to her bed and sat down as Lily hurried about as quietly as she could, in and out of the bathroom. They’d learned very early on that Mary was not a morning person.
“Come on, then.”
The Great Hall was already alive with chatter when they wandered down.
Remus and Sirius were sitting alone, heads bent together over something on the table, Sirius’s eyes sparkling and Remus looking like he was trying very hard not to smile. Lily grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop.
“Hang on.” She was grinning as she pulled something out of her robes. Marlene was surprised to see it was a muggle camera; one of those polaroids. Holding it up to her eye, Lily snapped a picture of the two of them. At Marlene’s questioning look, she said, shrugging, “It’s our last year! I brought this with me to capture it. I want to remember it all. I actually got one of you and James at the tryouts, too, but it’s in the room.”
“Wish I’d thought of that,” Marlene said as they carried on walking. She linked her arm through Lily’s. There was no one quite like her. “You’re lovely, Evans.”
“You sound like James,” Lily replied, but she seemed happy.
“What have you got there then?” Marlene asked as the two of them plonked themselves down next to their friends. Remus snatched what Marlene now saw was a piece of parchment off of the table and folded it away hurriedly.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Sirius answered, leaning back languidly. He and Remus shared a look that seemed far too mischievous for Marlene’s liking. Whatever they were up to, it couldn’t be good.
Marlene zoned out from the chatter as she scanned the Hall almost subconsciously. She found Sash and looked away quickly, frowning at herself. Without meaning to, her eyes landed on the Slytherin table; specifically on Regulus Black.
He was looking over at them, at Sirius, more exactly, face completely unreadable. Sirius didn’t appear to notice, but Marlene knew that might not have been the case. She wasn’t an expert on their relationship at all, but she knew it was still rocky. Regulus was still living in the Black family home, and sometimes, Sirius made comments under his breath about what he thought about that. She knew they still talked at school, but couldn’t even begin to understand the complexity of it all. All Marlene really knew was that she wanted Regulus to be okay and content, because then so Sirius would be.
As she watched, Regulus’s attention was turned to the doors of the Great Hall. Marlene followed his gaze to see James walk in, side by side with Peter and Mary, but when she turned to look back at Regulus, he was talking to his friend, quite engaged.
Marlene realised she had been staring and made to turn away, only to make direct eye contact with the girl to Regulus’s left. The intensity of her glare almost made Marlene’s blood run hot. She wanted to look away, but something about her expression made Marlene pause. She had never seen anyone look so… hostile. But that couldn’t be true. She only seemed slightly familiar - Marlene had never spoken to her in her life. Unless —
James Potter sank down into the seat directly opposite from Marlene, and her eye contact with the girl was broken.
“Alright?” James was louder than life when he wanted to be. Marlene wasn’t sure if his voice was what made her jump, or the fact that she hadn’t realised how still she’d gone when that girl had caught her gaze.
Nonetheless, when she sneaked a glance back over, the girl was stalking out the Hall. Marlene shook her head of it.
“Yeah, you?” she replied, directing her attention back to the table.
“I was thinking,” he began.
“Always risky.”
“That we - hey.” He paused, digesting her comment. She grinned.
“Carry on.”
“Right. That we should make this whole bet thing, well, a thing.”
“A thing?”
“Yes! Spread the word to as many people as we can, especially to the different houses, and turn it into a student thing, too. Everyone can get involved.”
“Hm.” Marlene paused to think about it. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Easy; maximum chaos and excitement. It’s our last year, Marls! We can start something here. I mean, if the teachers get to do it, why can’t we? We’ll turn it into a legacy: McKinnon and Potter’s Secret Student Quidditch Cup Betting Pool.”
“Rolls right off the tongue,” Marlene agreed.
“It is seven o'clock in the morning, Marlene! Please, enough with the sarcasm.” He put his head in his hands.
“Okay, sorry, sorry.” She patted his head where it lay on the table. “For what it’s worth, I love the idea.”
He stayed where he was, voice muffled. “Really?”
“Really. I’m always up for spreading the Quidditch agenda.”
He sat up, beaming. “You, McKinnon, are my favourite person here.”
“Oh, here we go…” She grabbed her toast and made to leave as Sirius’s head snapped up, face disbelieving. “Talk at lunch?”
“You’re on.” He threw her a thumbs up. She turned away with a finger salute.
Chewing on her toast as she made her way to the library, Marlene wondered how big she and James could make the betting. Obviously, the Gryffindors would be all in, and the Slytherins wouldn’t want the Gryffindors to get the best of them, so she could imagine they’d be up for it. The Ravenclaws, she liked to think, were pretty open-minded, and she could think of a few who would love to get stuck into the probability and statistics part of it. Die-hard maths lovers, she supposed, could come in pretty handy even in the Wizarding world. As for the Hufflepuffs, Marlene guessed that they would be in if there was a good enough reason for them to be.
Because that was the thing, she mused to herself. It didn’t have to be money that people were betting with. It could be anything: from Honeydukes stashes to prized magical items. As long as it wasn’t Dark magic. They would have to draw a line somewhere… Perhaps come up with some magic to stop just anyone entering just anything into the betting…
“Oh! Sorry, let me…” Marlene trailed off as she and the girl she’d crashed into as she’d rounded the corner bent to pick up their spilled books. She was a sixth year Marlene just about recognised, but what made her pause was the strange thing she appeared to be doing with her hands. She made a horrified face as she appeared to pick things out of the air surrounding Marlene, twirling invisible tendrils between her fingertips and muttering to herself.
Marlene thought she heard her say, “Oh, this is just terrible.”
After a few moments, she thought it might be best to interrupt. “Er, sorry, I really should get going. Here are your books…” The girl’s gaze focused on her eyes. They were the palest blue Marlene had ever seen; she didn’t know whether to be impressed or intimidated.
“Oh yes, thank you.” She didn’t move to take them. Marlene put them down on the floor next to where she knelt still, as she made to stand. Who was this girl? “Pandora Lovegood.”
Marlene paused, pretty certain she hadn’t said anything out loud.
“My name,” the girl continued, “as you were wondering.”
“Oh. I’m Marlene. Marlene McKinnon,” she ventured.
“I know.”
“Oh,” Marlene said again, uncertain what to do next. “Well, I’ll see you around, then.”
She began to walk away, and made it a few metres before she heard Pandora murmur to herself. “Dorcas was right .” Marlene paused and turned back around, a hazy memory wriggling in the corner of her brain.
“Sorry, did you say - ?” she began, but Pandora Lovegood was gone, a pile of books left on the floor of the corridor. Marlene frowned and walked back up to where she’d left them for her. She knelt and opened the front cover of the top one, and read, Property of Patrick Ringard.
They weren’t even her books.
Utterly confounded, Marlene turned back to the library. Ravenclaws were the most confusing of the lot, she thought to herself, wondering whether the whole thing had been staged, and why in Merlin’s scraggly beard that would have happened. That said, it was Hogwarts, after all. She supposed you could never know what would happen next.
She had Potions after lunch, during which she and James had debated the theoretical logistics of the betting idea between stuffing sandwiches in their mouths. He had been all for spreading the word as soon as possible, but they’d decided it would be better to figure out exactly how they were going to organise and sort everything before trying to get people into it. She was practically buzzing as she headed to the dungeons, head filled with images of Quidditch matches that exceeded the excitement of any she’d experienced before.
“You’ve got a spring in your step,” Lily observed, as she caught her up. “What were you and James talking about?”
“Just Quidditch stuff.” Marlene linked their arms. “How would you feel about helping us come up with some magic that could start a betting war for the Cup this year?”
“I’d say that sounds crazy. Why not?”
“Knew I could count on you.”
Lily smiled as they walked into the Potions classroom. “Just don’t brew any more dodgy potions, okay?”
“You’ve got it.” Marlene winked as they parted ways to get to their seats.
As she sat down, she caught a glimpse of the girl she’d seen at breakfast walk into the room. Marlene turned away before she could get caught looking, before the girl could glare at her again with that piercing expression. Her gaze landed on a pot of pickled toads sitting on one of the shelves dotted around the walls; a glazed eye stared at her wearily from within the jar. She tilted her head slightly to peer at it as it floated around. How lovely.
To her relief, which turned to rapid wariness, the girl broke Marlene’s eye contact by sitting herself down directly in front of the jar of toads, pulling books out of her bag. Marlene took the chance to observe her quickly, trying to place the faint familiarity she felt at seeing her again. It was no use. She decided she must have just recognised her from seeing her around the school.
“Afternoon, afternoon,” Slughorn announced, toddling into the classroom with purpose. “It’ll be theory for the first half I’m afraid, followed by concocting the Alihotsy Draught, a quick but tricky little thing. Can anyone tell me its purpose?”
Lily raised her hand.
“Ah, yes. Miss Evans, do tell.” Slughorn’s voice grew cheery as he addressed Lily.
“It causes hysterical laughter,” Lily informed the class. “Invented on a whim by the intoxicated Liza Varela, who diffused it through the air of her joke shop to trick customers into finding everything more hilarious than it actually was.”
“Excellent, five points to Gryffindor. Quite a superb idea if you ask me,” Slughorn said, chortling. “Of course, she got shut down for drugging the customers… Quite a shame, quite a shame…”
The class dragged on at a cloud’s place on a still day until the practical section, which Marlene grew more and more restless for. She desperately wanted something to do with her hands, fidgeting as she wondered mindlessly about the Slytherin girl and her cold stare.
When it finally came around, Marlene stuck herself into it, intent on absorbing herself in the measuring and stirring and chopping. Time passed behind her back as her focus grew on getting the potion spot on, rather than paying attention to anything or anyone around her. Ten minutes before the end of the lesson, she stood back and watched with satisfaction as it began to turn a bright, searing yellow colour that burned her eyes if she looked at it for too long.
“Excellent work, Miss McKinnon!” Slughorn congratulated her as he made his way around the classroom. Marlene was almost surprised at how well it had turned out. Normally, she found it fairly difficult to concentrate: more concerned with comparing her potion with everyone else’s and tending to just evade the small, pernickety parts. But now, she stood behind the cauldron unable to keep the grin off her face. She’d really done it.
“No fear, everyone, this potion’s fumes are harmless. It only affects you in its liquid form, or when deliberately evaporated for inhalation, as demonstrated by Miss Liza Varela,” Slughorn reassured everyone, still making his way around the classroom. “A true Potions Master as usual, Miss Evans,” he told Lily, who positively glowed.
Marlene turned around to mouth, Well done! and stuck her thumbs up to Lily. She replied, You too!
Marlene was just turning back around to her potion when everything went wrong. She should’ve known something like this was bound to happen, she supposed. Everything had been running almost too smoothly. Well, too smoothly for her standards.
Just as her cauldron came into view, its contents erupted seemingly of their own accord. They splattered all over her face and robes, drenching her in a blinding yellow burst of brewed glee. Too late, she registered some of the potion flying into her mouth, still open from when she’d grinned at Lily. Before she could try to spit any out, she gasped on instinct, and to her horror, felt the potion make its way down her throat.
Marlene gave herself about three seconds of peace before the effects began to kick in. Three seconds where the class took in what happened and started to giggle. Two seconds where she turned to Lily, incredulous. One second where she found the Slytherin girl from this morning, who caught her eye and, as if she’d orchestrated the whole damn thing, let out the smallest, most malicious smile Marlene had ever seen.
After that, no matter how much she didn’t want to, how much she wanted to storm up to the girl and demand whether she was to blame, she began to laugh.
“Madame Pomfrey said there was nothing to do but let it wear off,” Lily was telling the boys, as Marlene sat on a sofa in the common room, head in her hands, shoulders shaking.
To passersby, it would probably look like she was sobbing her eyes out, but at a closer look, it was clear that mirth had control of her body, not sorrow. Inside her head, between the bouts of laughter, Marlene was raging. It had already been forty five minutes and it still hadn’t worn off. She knew in her bones that the Slytherin girl was probably to blame, although she couldn’t figure out the bloody reason why. She’d changed into clean clothes as she’d cackled and giggled and chuckled at absolutely nothing. It was a strange sensation; during the fits of uncontrollable laughter, a joyful haze would cloud her mind, and she would find it all very funny, until it wore off for ten seconds, and then the fury would kick in. It was a vicious cycle.
“Can’t believe this! It’s outrageous! I’m going to kill he-ha ha ha ha-her!” She gave into another bout and threw her hands in the air as she collapsed back onto the sofa.
“It’s been like this for almost an hour,” Lily whispered as Mary sat down near them, eyes wide.
“Marlene, you’re going to get yourself banned from Potions,” Mary said, as she began to laugh at her state.
James and Sirius were in hysterics about the whole thing. They’d taken to saying the most ridiculous, blatantly unfunny things when they knew Marlene was about to start laughing again, and then inevitably when she did, would fall apart themselves. At least they were having fun. Remus was doing a bad job of keeping the smile off his face as he helped Peter with some Defence Against the Dark Arts work, and Lily was watching it all, switching between looking concerned and giggling herself.
“Hey Marlene, what do you call Minerva McGonagall without her hat?” James called as Marlene came to her senses. “Your mum!” He delivered the awful punchline as she began to laugh again, and he and Sirius clung to each other, shaking with silent laughter.
“Oh, this is the best day of my life.” Mary hugged Lily.
Lily got out her camera and snapped a picture, and even Peter began to smile from where he sat struggling with the homework.
Twenty minutes later, though, when the potion had worn off, Marlene knew without a single doubt that she would not let that girl have the last laugh (metaphorically speaking).
She would find out what the hell her problem was, and get her back if it was the last thing she did.
———————————
“Alright, everyone listen up! I know it’s only the warm up match, but this may as well set the tone for the whole tournament this year, so I want you to give it all you’ve got!’ James’s voice was loud and victorious as though they’d already won.
The Quidditch team stood rapt and attentive, every player listening to their captain. Seeing James’s relentless determination was all the motivation Marlene needed, and she suspected they all felt that way. James had a way about him that made you feel as though he wasn’t talking to the team as a whole, but rather speaking to you and you alone. She had seen him giving attention to every single person on the team during practices, handing out advice, tips and tactics to each of them as if it was that person’s individual playing skills that would make the winning move.
Marlene had no doubt he would lead the nation’s team one day.
“Let’s go win some bloody Quidditch!” he roared, and they all roared back, triumphant and brimming with anticipation as they stepped out onto the pitch.
Every year, the Quidditch Cup kicked off with one warm-up match for each team, two in total, to get the players back into the drill and ramp up the school’s excitement for when the real tournament would begin. Which House played who was a decision that changed annually, completely at random; the names drawn out of a hat.
This year, Gryffindor were opening against Slytherin.
It was a Saturday morning in late September. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw would play in the afternoon, the whole day given over to Quidditch. She and James had worked through some kinks in the plan and decided they would spread the betting idea after these matches had been played, riding the high of the inevitable excitement that would grow after, as the rush of anticipation for the real matches would begin.
But for now, Marlene was determined to make this a good game. She felt like her body was waking up as they strode onto the pitch, the crowd’s cheers sending thrills along her skin, the drumming of feet on the stands matching her every heartbeat. She saw James throw up his hands to rile them up even more, and they responded, sending up a huge cheer. Marlene couldn’t make out any individual faces in the crowd of spectators, but preferred it this way, knowing her friends were there whooping for them, knowing there was no possibility of catching a glimpse of Sash.
The commentator announced the Slytherin team, and there they were, marching onto the pitch amidst cheers and yells. It would be a close match. They strode closer and Marlene made out their captain, Lei Hopkins, followed by three chasers, the beaters, the keeper, and Regulus Black, their seeker. Marlene watched as he walked, holding himself with surety and grace, shoulders poised and chin level. It reminded her all too well of Sirius.
She stole a glance at him, standing opposite her in Gryffindor’s formation as the other beater, and they nodded to each other. They were as attuned to each other on the pitch as a leaf to the breeze on a windy day.
Marlene observed the opposing team one last time as they mounted their broomsticks, but what she saw made her pause. It was one of the chasers. She was looking at Marlene with an expression she recognised now, one of pure malice. It was that Slytherin girl: the one who seemed so familiar, who had glared at her over breakfast, who Marlene was sure had made her potion explode. She didn’t look away this time, as her temper flared. She’d vowed to give this girl what was coming to her, and what better time to do it than now?
Madame Hooch blew the whistle, brown hair tucked away. Marlene shot up into the sky with unbridled resolve and newfound purpose, mixed in with a few drops of spite for good measure.
Oh, the game was on.
She soared over the match as the balls were released, watching them fly into the air, and let herself fall again in unison with the quaffle. It wasn’t in freefall for long. James snatched it up fast, and the Gryffindor chasers were off, racing up the pitch to their goal end. Before the Slytherin keeper was even properly positioned, James had chucked the quaffle into the middle hoop so hard Marlene could hear it whizz through the air from the other end of the pitch.
“And Gryffindor is ten points ahead already!” the commentator, an excitable Ravenclaw sixth year, enthused. “This may be a warm-up, but you can always count on James Potter to make the game interesting.”
Marlene groaned inwardly. She knew Potter wouldn’t let that one be easily forgotten.
But she had no time to waste. She forgot about the Gryffindor chasers and let them do their job, and zeroed in on the Slytherins instead, bat spinning. More specifically, she focused on a certain seventh year, who was swooping up on her left with increasing speed.
Seeing no bludgers around her, Marlene signaled to Sirius and he nodded, sending one her way with near perfect precision. Spinning around in the air, Marlene held on to her bat tightly and swung at the incoming bludger with all her might, sending it off at a different angle, one directed deliberately towards her.
The girl was too close to do much about it. It caught her on the arm, and although a satisfied weight settled in her stomach, Marlene didn’t stick around long to see her reaction. Sirius was already signaling her over for one of their more infamous moves, one which required impeccable timing.
The quaffle was in the hands of a Slytherin chaser, and they were gaining on the goalposts far too quickly. Marlene threw one last glance at Sirius, checking their positions, and pulled her broom to a stop. He did the same on the opposite side of the pitch. As one, they swung their bats, and chucked them across the gap at each other, successfully deterring the Slytherin from scoring, at risk of getting clubbed in the head.
Marlene caught Sirius’s bat with a grin. Technically, swapping bats wasn’t a foul, even mid-game. It was a risky move, but one that paid off well when done right.
“The Gryffindor beaters are not to be messed with!” the commentator was raving.
Marlene scanned the pitch for her next victim, already swooping close to one of the bludgers. One of the Slytherin beaters had aimed for their seeker, Jude, but she’d ducked away with ease, and now Marlene picked up on the bludger and aimed for the second Slytherin chaser about to receive a pass. It hit home, and the quaffle fell instead into the hands of Cobie, a Gryffindor chaser.
The crowd cheered.
She overheard the Slytherins shouting to each other, and tried to zone them out, intent on helping along her team. That said, one voice caught her attention.
“Oi, Dorcas, get on my left!”
“Only if you don’t drop the bloody quaffle next time, Crouch!”
Dorcas. She’d heard that name before, and recently.
She threw her mind back, searching. That was it, the strange encounter with Pandora Lovegood. What had she said? Something like, Dorcas was right.
Marlene threw one last glance over at the people she’d overheard, something in her brain sliding into place as she looked at the girl.
The girl from the exploding potion lesson, the girl from breakfast, the girl Pandora had mentioned. The girl Marlene remembered all too late had taken her to the hospital wing that day.
Dorcas. Dorcas Meadowes, she’d said, when Marlene had asked her name. Her eyes had flared because Marlene had inadvertently ruined her potion. And she’d been so bloody angry ever since, apparently.
Mind still reeling, Marlene almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. So this was what the glaring had been about. She shook her head. God, how petty did you have to be?
She was on the verge of calling her out right then and there, when she heard Sirius’s voice from a distance, shouting, “Oi, McKinnon, duck —!”
But it was too late. Even as Marlene lowered her head and directed her broom down, she felt a whizzing by her ear.
A millisecond later, the bludger came into contact with the side of her skull in a sickening crack, and the corners of her vision turned black.