Goose Turns Traitor
Everywhere Marlene went, she heard chatting and speculation and gossiping about one thing: the bet. The Slytherin-Hufflepuff game was in two weeks, and Marlene, James and the rest of them had been overrun with people coming up and asking them how they could get involved. After a day that had all but faded into a frantic blur of trying to sort it all out - people, objects and money alike - they were all flopped down in front of the fireplace in the common room. Well, everyone else was. Marlene was on the floor, drowning in Potions textbooks.
“Reg hasn’t been able to wipe that smug little grin off his face since the warm-up match,” Sirius was saying darkly.
Mary considered this, frowning. “I don’t think I’ve ever even seen him smile.”
“Oh, this isn’t a smile. It’s a glint in his eye. It’s a state of mind. It’s the slightest raise of an eyebrow in the hallway when he sees me.” Sirius was glaring into the fire, lost in competition with his brother. James nodded his head glumly next to him.
“Smug bastard. We’ll get him next time.”
Remus caught Marlene’s eye and she was a goner. It was an especially cruel little trait of Remus’s, being able to send you to the verge of a manic fit of laughter at the worst possible moment, and still he sat there with a straight face. Wanker.
Marlene tried to cough it away, unsuccessfully.
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” she spluttered, looking anywhere but Remus. One more look and she might really lose it. Lily shook her head knowingly.
“Is the Potions giving you a bad reaction?” she asked, eyes twinkling.
As she composed herself, Peter said, “Yeah, why are you doing Potions? It’s a Sunday night, and you hate it.”
“I do not,” she scoffed. (She hated it. She hated it ever since it had anything to do with Dorcas). “I’m having some trouble with it, that’s all. Trying to do better.”
“Admirable,” Sirius said dryly, still affronted from Marlene’s poorly hid laughter.
“Oi, you haven’t had to deal with Slughorn looking at you like he’s given up all hope,” Marlene countered, indignant.
“Sounds horrifying.”
She reached for a pillow and chucked it at him. It hit James instead, knocking his glasses askew.
“Hey!” He chucked it back, frisbee style. Unfortunately for Marlene, it hurtled straight into the path of her ink pot, open from where she’d been writing notes. It toppled and spilled all over her sheets of parchment, spreading over her carefully composed notes like its contents were on a solo mission to destroy everything she’d spent the past two hours writing.
She made to grab it, but there was nothing she could do. Her notes and a quarter of the textbook were dripping with dark ink, stained beyond salvation. She stared at the sight, and tipped her head forward into her hands, the exhaustion of the day taking over. She wouldn’t lose it, not here, not now. It was just a minor inconvenience. But she could. She really felt she could.
James was already on his feet, pulling apart the pages, trying to save what he could.
“Oh Merlin, I’m so sorry, Marls. I was aiming for you, not the bloody ink pot. All your notes…”
She patted his arm, forcing a smile. “It’s okay. I was getting sick of staring at those bloody pages anyway. Really, James, don’t worry about it.” Inside, Marlene's heart sank to her stomach. Their first topic test of the term was tomorrow, and she didn’t know if she could bear to watch Dorcas’s face settle into a triumphant smirk. It was fine. She could probably still remember it all. It would all be fine.
It was in fact, not fine. Marlene was sitting in the classroom, staring at the test in front of her and feeling like she wanted to drown in her freshly refilled ink pot. She read the question again and sighed, looking around the room. Slughorn was quite content on his chair, fiddling with a rusty cauldron. Lily was scribbling away, subconsciously poking the edge of her tongue out. And Dorcas was sitting there, perfectly composed, the corners of her lips upturned in a marginal grin as she wrote, like she already knew she’d won.
Marlene almost snapped her quill in frustration. She looked at the clock, gauging the short time she had left as the seconds slipped away.
A renewed wave of determination rolled over her, and she slammed her quill into the ink pot and began to write furiously, knowing that even if she lost, she’d at least have tried her damn best to make it otherwise.
Half an hour later, it was over, and Marlene was doing her best to accept defeat. She didn’t even know their scores yet, but she did know with a dreadful certainty that it hadn’t exactly gone excellently. She didn’t look in Dorcas’s direction as she rammed her things into her bag and stood outside the classroom to wait for Lily.
Dorcas walked out before Lily did. She stopped in front of Marlene, eyebrows raised.
“Well?”
“Stand back, would you? I can't think over the stench of your ego.”
Dorcas just narrowed her eyes and leaned in by a millimetre. The minuscule movement made Marlene’s blood boil. “Can’t even admit you lost already? Pathetic, McKinnon.”
Marlene could’ve strangled her. Before she could even retaliate, Dorcas was stalking away, falling into step with the blond Slytherin whose seat Marlene had inadvertently stolen that day. She watched them go, seething.
“That wasn’t too bad,” Lily said, as she finally came out, bag swinging. They began making their way up the stairs.
“Speak for yourself,” Marlene grumbled. “Question six was ridiculous. How would anyone explain three differences between Billywig wings and Billywig sting slime?”
“Ah, yes, the great Billywig dilemma,” Mary declared, appearing from a stream of students in the corridor to join them. “Just what I was pondering myself.”
“Don’t be a Billywig,” Lily scolded.
“Me? Never.”
“Who’s Billy?” Peter asked, joining them too, which made Mary and Lily fall apart giggling like second years. Marlene shook her head fondly.
“Save me, Pete, they’re maniacs.”
He patted her arm. “Stick with me, Marls.”
“My saviour.”
“Always.”
Lily and Mary were still chortling, and almost without meaning to, Marlene’s thoughts returned to Potions and Dorcas and the test. The thought of returning to the library to read more textbooks made her good mood melt away like a chocolate frog over a furnace. She made a decision as Lily and Mary carried on ahead, oblivious.
“Pete, would you tell those two I’ve gone to the pitch? I wanted to get some Quidditch practice in today.”
“‘Course,” he said. “I’d come, but I still haven’t mastered the bloody Cheering charm.”
“You’re my favourite, you know,” she said, grinning. She blew him a kiss as she walked away and he pretended to catch it, pinning it to his heart.
The pitch was empty by the time she got there. She hadn’t bothered changing into her kit, not wanting to waste the limited time she had. Her broom in her hand, she shrugged off her cloak and bag and chucked them into the changing rooms, and then she was off.
Time became as easily left behind as the air she cut through. Her worries were just the whispers in the wind that brushed past her ears; they weren’t a part of her here. She set up a target practice and grabbed a bat, aiming and hitting again and again. It became easier as she gradually loosened her arms and then her mind, gripping the wood of the bat like it was a lifeline. Built-up frustration in her bones was just fuel, the irritation, the hurt, the struck nerves, they were all just tinder to the spark of her bat.
She was a good forty minutes in when she was interrupted.
The easy flow of her practice was broken at the sound of a girl’s voice. She almost laughed at the way that specific noise, her specific presence, could turn Marlene’s emotions around so quickly.
“Nice shot. Shame you miss when it actually matters.”
Marlene wanted to ignore her, she really did, but Dorcas was already flying up to meet her in the air.
“Stalking me or something?” Marlene asked. “The pitch is occupied, Meadowes.”
Dorcas glared. “I’m here to practise, whether you’re hogging the place or not. Make room or leave.”
“How about you leave?” Not her best retort, but she was still trying to get her breath back. It was worth a try.
“As we’ve just established, that’s not going to happen.”
Of course it wasn’t. They both shot angry looks at each other, neither of them willing to stand down. Marlene’s blood was still thrumming from hitting bludgers, and she was just itching for a fight.
“Fine, we’ll compete. Winner gets the pitch,” Dorcas bit out.
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
They both glared at each other again. Marlene was warmed up and ready, and if that gave her an unfair advantage, she didn’t care. It was Dorcas’s stupid idea.
“Two laps around the pitch. Whoever makes it back through the west middle hoop first, wins.”
“Excellent.”
“Wonderful.”
Marlene resisted the ridiculous urge to just shove Dorcas off her broom now as they made their way to the hoop to begin.
“Who’s gonna say when - ?” she was saying as they readied, but was cut off as Dorcas abruptly shot off on her first lap. That snake.
Marlene wasted no time in catching her up, leaning forward so she was horizontal on the broom, bracing herself against the rush of cool air that whipped at her face, relentless.
It was stupid, to compete for the whole bloody pitch like this, but Marlene was past the point of caring. She wasn’t going to let Dorcas win this one. She pushed her legs further back behind her, making herself as aerodynamic as possible, and flew until she was neck-and-neck with Dorcas. In retaliation, Dorcas shoved into her shoulder. Or, she tried to. Marlene anticipated the move and ducked down and under Dorcas to pop up on her inside as they rounded the corner, cutting across her path as she took advantage of Dorcas’s surprise and surged ahead.
She heard Dorcas let out a hiss of air as she veered to the side slightly, and smiled. They were coming up to their second lap when things started deteriorating.
Marlene made to round the corner, but Dorcas grabbed the end of her broom and pulled, hard. She spun out, fighting to gain control of the broom (and her temper) as Dorcas raced ahead. When she finally managed to get back on track again, Dorcas was almost at the far end of the pitch, and Marlene urged her broom forward in anger.
If Dorcas wanted to play dirty, that was just fucking fine.
Marlene waited until Dorcas was coming up to the turn, and muttered a spell under her breath. With no time to get her wand out, she relied on the unadulterated force of her anger directed at Dorcas to guide the charm towards her. Almost to her surprise, it worked. Dorcas’s cloak flew up around her, flapping like mad in the wind and slowing Dorcas down really quite effectively, Marlene thought with grim satisfaction.
She ducked forward even more if it was possible, and came up to the final turn. Dorcas was trying to whip her cloak off, realising what Marlene had done, but gave up as Marlene sped past her, instead just trying to beat her despite it.
Marlene knew Dorcas would try a spell on her now, and tried to get herself as best a head start as she could, eyes on the hoop. It was so close. Sure enough, with metres to spare, Dorcas’s magic caught up to her; a Confundus charm. But it was weak. Without their wands, neither of their spellwork was as strong as it could’ve been, and despite the fog clouding Marlene’s brain, attempting to confuse her mind, making her hesitate once, twice, she kept her eyes on the west middle hoop, the final goal.
She bit down a wide grin as she shot through it, almost a metre clear of Dorcas. She shook her head clear of the charm.
“You cheated.” Dorcas pulled her broom to a stop in front of her.
“We both cheated. In fact, you cheated twice.” Marlene couldn’t help it. She grinned in exhilaration at the race, at the win.
“Whatever,” Dorcas fumed. She shook out her cloak, which was still sticking up, almost comically. “What the hell did you do to my cloak?”
Marlene shrugged. “Don’t know, a spur of the moment thing. It’ll wear off. Probably.” She added, trying very hard not to laugh as Dorcas visibly got angrier.
The stupidity of the situation crept up on them both, but Dorcas just rolled her eyes again, something Marlene was coming to realise she did a lot. Or at least, she did when Marlene was around.
“See you around, McKinnon.”
To Marlene’s surprise, Dorcas held out her hand, and she eyed it wearily, half expecting her to send her plummeting face-first to the earth. Her touch was warmer than Marlene had been expecting, she’d almost anticipated the cold skin of a reptilian-like thing, absurd as it was.
Before Marlene could even begin to reevaluate her thoughts about Dorcas, though, she looked over her shoulder and said with a tone cold enough to put ice to shame, “Don’t think this means you’re a better player than me. We’ll see who wins the next match.”
Marlene really could've shoved her off her broom then. She just had to have the last word, didn’t she?
She grabbed her bat and didn’t watch Dorcas leave, not even to laugh at her ridiculous cloak. The next bludger she hit had her face on it.
————————————
The week passed pretty slowly, as though October was reluctant to arrive. But arrive it did, and the leaves of the Whomping Willow started to fold in on themselves, stained orange and red in places like an over-enthusiastic hand had dropped its paintbrush right beside them. There was a level of chill in the air that hadn’t been there a few days ago, and Marlene relished in it.
As much as she loved the summer and its warmth, the turning of the season brought a thrill to her bones that spoke of hot drinks and Quidditch games and Halloween parties, roast dinners and Charms homework and sitting by the fireplace. Autumn at Hogwarts was unlike anything else, she thought.
“So, you think I should just… ask her to Hogsmeade? Just like that?” Peter was asking Mary. He, Mary and Marlene were sitting on a squashy sofa in the common room. Remus and Sirius were in their dorm, probably listening to that new Bowie single again, and Lily and James were off doing Head Girl and Boy duties together.
“Look, I don’t pretend to be an expert on all the romantic goings-on at Hogwarts, but I can say I’ve seen the way she looks at you.” Mary smiled knowingly.
Peter still looked unsure. “I don’t know…”
“Pete, the worst that’s going to happen is that she’ll say no. And would that really be that bad?”
“Easy for you to say. No one’s ever said no to you.”
“And have they ever said it to you?”
Peter paused. “Well, I guess not, but - ”
“But nothing!” Mary interrupted. “Some things you just have to do. No thinking allowed. Go and ask her if she wants to maybe… pop into Hogsmeade next week-end, have a look in the shops, tell her drinks are on you. Then report back to me immediately.”
Peter still looked uncertain, but there was nothing to be done in the face of Mary’s will when it came to match-making. He stood slowly, and said, “Alright, then. Here goes nothing.”
He turned and walked out of the portrait hole, presumably to look for the mystery girl.
“Did you really ‘see the way she looked at him’?” Marlene asked, curious.
“Hm. That depends on whether she says yes.”
“You’re a harsh person, MacDonald.”
“Also depends on whether she says yes.”
Marlene snorted and turned her face to the flames, watching them dance.
“Marlene?”
“Mm-hm?”
Mary hesitated, which was unlike her. Marlene stole a glance at her, suddenly wary of what Mary was about to say.
“What… what happened between - ”
“Marlene?” A third voice. One Marlene hadn’t heard in weeks. She faltered, but sat up to face her, caught like a deer in headlights. She glanced at Mary again, who was in shock, mouth open by a millimetre. Mary looked back at Marlene, her thoughts clear in her expression, Want me to say something?
A slight shake of her head had Mary slowly sinking back into her seat, glaring all the while at Sash, who stood behind the sofa they sat on.
“Can we talk?” she asked Marlene. “Please.”
She had half a mind to say no. She stared into Sash’s face, at her hazel eyes, the freckles on her nose, her lower lip which was thicker than her top one, unable to believe she was asking to talk. Now, after everything.
“Okay.”
Sash indicated to their room, and Marlene followed, arms tightly crossed across her chest, fists clenched where no one could see them. She threw one last glance at Mary who watched them go like she wanted to snatch Marlene back and give Sash an earful. She didn’t.
In the room, Sash sat on her bed. Marlene stayed standing.
“What is it?” she asked.
Sash didn’t say anything for a while. The longer she stood there, the more stupid she felt. Like always, she’d just let Sash have her way, let her lead her where she wanted to go. Marlene uncrossed her arms and straightened her shoulders a bit.
“If you’ve brought me here to stare at the floor, I think I’ll leave you to it.” Marlene turned to go, but Sash stood and grabbed her arm.
“No. Please, Mars.”
“Don’t call me that.” Marlene blanched at the old nickname. She yanked her arm away and was reminded of a time she’d done the same not too long ago, when a certain Slytherin had started on her about Potions. She was amazed to find she would rather live a thousand arguments with Dorcas than be in this moment any longer.
“Sash, either say something or let me leave,” Marlene said with a forced calm. She wouldn’t do this anymore. She wouldn’t let Sash mould her into who she wanted her to be, not again, not ever. Enough was enough, and Marlene was finally drawing a line. She wouldn’t just bend to Sash’s will and let her back break for it.
Sash drew back as though Marlene had slapped her. Then she sneered.
“Fine, leave then. I only wanted to tell you I regret it all. Every bit.” She spat the last words with force, her face twisted and scornful all at once. Marlene almost reeled at how quickly she’d switched it all up. She couldn’t believe she’d put up with it for years.
She was finished. She turned and left without another word, not giving Sash the reaction, the drama she so clearly craved. She didn’t feel any better to know that for once she hadn’t risen to it as she walked back into the common room. If anything, she was just tired. Tired of it all.
She made it back to the common room at the same time as Peter did. He was bouncing as he walked.
“Well?” Mary demanded enthusiastically.
Peter was grinning from ear to ear. “You’ll never believe what she said.”
Marlene flopped onto the sofa and pointedly did not look at Mary, or at Sash as she stalked out of the portrait hole. She listened to Peter as he rambled about Sara Lozenge and their planned trip to Hogsmeade, and said a silent, grateful thanks to her for saying yes.
————————
“Welcome, yes, welcome all.” Slughorn ushered them all in. “Congratulations are in order for the lot of you.” He began sending out the exam papers with his wand, levitating them to each student respectfully. “You all passed.” He chuckled then, like he’d told a good joke, or like he was just surprised to hear himself say the words.
Marlene’s first thought was, Thank god, but it quickly switched to, Oh, no, as she stared at her score. She looked up at Dorcas, who was already watching her. The corners of her lips quirked as though the look on Marlene’s face was enough to secure her victory. Dorcas pulled out a scrap of parchment and wrote something on it, before discreetly sending it her way with her wand.
Slughorn’s voice droned on in the background as Marlene caught the note. It read, in ridiculously spidery handwriting, 92%, E. Please tell me you got at least 80.
Marlene gritted her teeth and briefly considered ignoring the note, but there was no point. Dorcas had seen her read it. Wanting to rip it up into shreds, she scrawled, 78%, still E. Shame you couldn’t even get a grade above me.
She might have lost by a pretty abysmal amount, but she wasn’t going to let Dorcas off that easily. She sent the note back with a sweet smile. Dorcas read it and shook her head, writing something again. It flew towards Marlene with an anger of its own.
A whole 14% difference, it’s embarrassing for both of us. I should have chosen someone who’d give me an actual competition.
Marlene wrote, Please, do. And sort out your handwriting, it’s a wonder Slughorn can even read it.
I would, but I like watching you lose. Too easy for you to back out now.
She wasn’t surprised. She supposed she was in this for the long run, or at least until Dorcas got bored.
As if I would, she replied.
After Potions, Marlene was heading back to her room, silently cursing Dorcas and her 92%, when she was ambushed by Goose. He was running straight at her, making a yowling sound that made heads turn in the corridors to look for the source of the horrific noise. It was a well-known rule that pets shouldn’t really be running around the castle during the day, and especially in between lessons, for fear of them being trampled.
“Goose,” Marlene hissed, as he ran straight past her. What he was running from, Marlene didn’t even want to know, but she had no choice but to take off after her cat in the hopes of bringing him back to the common room, or just to chuck him outside. She swore under her breath as she dodged unsuspecting students, trying to keep his bushy ginger tail in sight. Where could he possibly be going?
She followed him all the way down to the entrance hall, the chatter of students having lunch in the Great Hall growing louder with each step. To her relief, he dodged those doors and took a left turn down to the dungeons.
Of course this is where he likes to spend his time, Marlene thought to herself.
She was about to call his name again when a swell of voices from around the corner made her pause.
She thought she recognised a girl’s voice, its light, airy tone, but it was the one who answered her that made Marlene sure she didn’t want to turn the corner.
“Maybe she was just testing you,” the first girl was musing. Her voice wasn’t getting any closer, so Marlene assumed they were just standing in the corridor. Strange.
“No, I think she’s just really dim,” Dorcas replied, contemptuous as ever.
“She was a bit odd when I spoke to her,” the other girl reflected. “Terrible aura, like I said. So moody.” Marlene recognised her with a start. It was Pandora... Pandora Lovegood. The one who’d spilled ‘her’ books in the corridor that day.
“Moody’s the word for it. You should’ve seen her under the Draught of Living Death, though. Giggling like an idiot.”
Hang on, were they talking about her? She was not a moody person, thank you very much, and had Dorcas just called her dim?
She heard a gasp that she assumed was Pandora’s.
“Look who it is!”
To her absolute dismay, she heard the unmistakable sound of a cat purring. That traitor.
“He keeps finding us,” Pandora murmured. Then, “Not fair. He likes you far more than the rest of us.”
She heard Dorcas laugh. She hadn’t known that was possible.
“My favourite cat in the castle,” she said, her tone lighter than Marlene had ever heard it. She almost couldn’t believe her ears; Goose was a bloody delinquent who didn’t like anyone, everyone knew that. Marlene felt indignant.
She was debating whether or not she should just walk around the corner and snatch Goose back, or if Goose would just embarrass her by hissing and scratching like he always did, but she was saved from making the decision by the arrival of new voices.
Boys, by the sound of it, fussing over Goose. She realised then that they must be standing by the entrance to the Slytherin common room.
“Can we keep him?” one of them said. “He clearly loves us.”
Marlene could feel her mood darkening.
“You’ll have to find a new room, Crouch. I’m not living with a rodent.” That was undeniably Regulus Black’s voice.
“A rodent! How could you say such a thing, and in the face of such beauty?”
“He looks like a rat.”
Marlene couldn’t help but agree a bit. But still, he was her rat.
“He’s an angel. Come on, Angel, let’s go to lunch.” Pandora’s teasing voice was getting closer, as did the chatter of the group that followed. Marlene panicked. They would round the corner soon and find her standing there, eavesdropping on their conversation.
She looked around quickly, and spotted a broom cupboard a few metres away. Without hesitating, she plunged in, pulling the doors shut behind her as quietly as she could. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying they hadn’t heard her.
The chatter grew until it was right next to her. They passed without pausing.
She exhaled, then bit back a laugh. That was ridiculous. And she still didn’t even have her cat back.
A loud meow from outside the closet proved otherwise. Their voices long gone, Marlene ducked out of the closet and scooped Goose up from where he preened as though he’d known she was there the entire time, ignoring his complaining. He didn’t even try to scratch her, which she took as a win.
“You’re never to go near them again, okay? That was bad, Goose, very bad. No treats tonight.”
His crafty yellow eyes just laughed at her.