Chapter Text
TAPE: September 4 1976 - Wind
ROLLING…
“Should we shake her?”
“What if she doesn’t want us to?”
“She’ll be late for breakfast…”
It was to these whispers Marlene awoke, groggily sitting up and blinking the sleep from her eyes. As she adjusted to the light, she could see her dorm mates not-so-discreetly glancing back at her warily, like she was some sort of rabid stray. It was early in the morning and Marlene, being cranky, was not having it.
“You done discussing me?” Marlene called sarcastically.
“We just didn’t know if you’d mind us waking you up,” Lily said, tentatively avoiding eye contact. She tried to look at the others for backup, but they were far too interested in the details of the floorboard.
It irritated Marlene, but in her dreary state of mind she couldn’t think of an argument, and frankly she wasn’t bothered to have one - so she promptly got up and walked to the bathroom to get ready.
Struggling on the uniform was uncomfortable, especially the jumper, but it was too cold a day to not wear it. The blazer, on the other hand, was a few sizes too big - so Marlene really did look like she walked out of a circus. At least she wasn’t Lily, though. Her head girl uniform looked horrid: its jumper had stripes! Marlene almost felt bad.
She didn’t go with the others to breakfast (which, by the way, was absolutely mind-boggling. Marlene had never seen so much food in her life, it was nearly ridiculous) or her classes, despite her limited knowledge of the school. Instead, she made some bullshit excuse to speed off and get to class on her own. She couldn’t bear suffering another minute of awkward silence.
It turns out, attending a school as big as Hogwarts was its own torturous endeavour.
If Marlene put aside the endless spiralling staircases that led to the same place she was five minutes ago, as well as the giant hallways with hundreds of doors which led to more hallways with more doors, and the fact that she swore the portraits were mocking her as she walked past the same corridor the fifth time in a row, then maybe Marlene could consider that the architecture of the building was, in Mr Binns’ words, ‘intelligent and thoughtful in its labyrinthine design to keep out the threat and to protect the familiar’. But to its students in the present day, it was a cruel challenge of running to and fro just to avoid a late detention.
Luckily, Marlene, being new, had gotten the benefit of the doubt with tardiness. It got to the point where she could purposefully stroll down the corridor and be late to class without any repercussions: except, that is, by her English teacher, who marked out the exact route on her map to ensure her punctuality. And now, after having Psychology first period (which mostly consisted of trying to avoid talking to Dorcas whenever possible), she was running late for English.
“Stupid old…” she muttered bitterly after Ms Nida gave her a scolding and sent her to her seat at the back of the room.
There was another irritating thing - Barty, being a year younger, was in none of her classes; and although some people were kind enough to invite her to their tables, Marlene didn’t particularly feel like exchanging awkward conversations with random people.
No one bothered her much, anyway.
“Open your books, everyone!” Ms Nida announced, that unsettling grin etched onto her face. “The story we shall be studying is on page 34.”
Inwardly groaning, Marlene flicked open her copy of 19th Century Short Stories. When she began to read, a boy burst into the classroom - and quite literally, too, as the door almost flew off its hinges - and blurted, “Sorry I’m late!”
His cheeks were flushed and he was panting heavily, his hair a blond mess atop his head. Chewing on his lip nervously, the boy approached Ms Nida, who, with an amused look, handed him a blue slip: late detention.
With a dejected sigh, he sat down on the only available seat left - next to Marlene. Marlene, on her part, had been squinting at him since he entered the room. For some odd reason, the boy looked vaguely familiar, but she didn’t have a clue where that feeling was from.
She pitied him slightly - everyone seemed to be silently laughing at him, which made him go even redder. Feeling sorry for him, Marlene murmured, “That’s rough. Ms Nida’s a right hag, isn’t she?”
“Yeah…” The boy looked at her, then did a double take. “Wait-… Marlene?”
“Yes…? How did you-“
“I’m Peter!” he beamed. “You know, Peter Pettigrew? Your old neighbour-“
“Mr Pettigrew, we don’t need an introduction,” Ms Nida interrupted. “I’m sure we all know who you are.”
Peter mumbled a sorry, but returned to grinning at Marlene. Now that she got a closer look, Peter’s pudgy cheeks and excited gaze did look familiar. She could remember notions of spending afternoons in forests and skipping stones across lakes, back when she used to go over to her grandmother’s house in the summer. She had been young, so the memories were faded and distant, but still she was so fond of them. She could distinctly remember Peter’s home; a quaint little cottage by the stream where the rabbits would come and lay their kits. The home was a warm one. Marlene wondered if it had changed now, as hers did.
Peter scribbled something down on a scrap piece of paper, before handing it to her discreetly under the table.
It’s been so long. How have you been? it read, his handwriting messy and almost illegible. Marlene wasn’tone to judge, however. Hers was almost as bad.
It’s been fine. Haven’t seen you in forever.
Why don’t you visit more often?
Haven’t been allowed back after I broke the swing.
Peter smiled, but quickly put the paper away when their teacher’s leering gaze peered over their shoulders.
After English, they walked together to go to their common room (apparently, Peter was also in Gryffindor) and he told Marlene he picked art for one of his A-levels, which didn’t surprise her in the slightest. With all the doodles around his notes, someone could’ve thought it was a sketchbook.
“You should join a club, you know,” Peter said.
“A club? What for?”
“It’s good for getting you points - and the teachers like you better. Like, I go art club. But you could go to a debate club!”
Marlene’s face contorted into one of disgust. “Yeah, no thanks.”
“No, really, it’s fun! Even Dorcas goes-“
“Miss McKinnon?” chirped a man’s voice, gentle and wise. Marlene quickly registered it to be the headmaster of the school, Professor Dumbledore. The bumbling old idiot had been blabbering about something during his welcoming speech, of which Marlene did not listen to a single word.
“Headmaster Dumbledore,” greeted Marlene politely, as Peter inched away sheepishly.
The bearded man approached them slowly, his large, billowing cloak making it seem like he glided across the floor more than anything. “If I could please have a word in my office - we’ll only be a minute, Mister Pettigrew.”
Without another word, Dumbledore turned on his heel and led Marlene down the hall as Peter followed behind them. Whilst the headmaster seemed to be the epitome of calm, Marlene was freaking out. What had she done for him to want to speak with her? Surely she hadn’t gotten herself kicked out already… Peter flashed her a frantic look, to which Marlene could only mouth, panicked, ‘I don’t know!’
They walked around the large gargoyle statue that was bronzing at the beak to a great grand door standing behind it. Dumbledore pushed it open for Marlene to walk inside, gesturing for Peter to stay outside. The boy lingered at the doorway for a moment, but was chased out by a giant, grey, squawking owl. The door shut behind them and Marlene walked inside.
The office was so eccentrically decorated, it distracted her from her internal distress. There were a vast number of portraits from all the previous headteachers, mirroring the school’s own halls, but the wallpaper was an unearthly sort of purple, with broad, twining swirls curling and dancing in a way where it was almost hypnotising. There was no pattern to it, no symmetry or repetition, just an artful abundance of swirling lines. At times, the lines would come out of the wallpaper like branches - these, the headmaster’s colourful birds perched upon.
“Uh… will Peter be okay?” asked Marlene, hesitant.
“Hm? Oh, yes, Gowllert won’t hurt him. Take a seat, my dear,” Dumbledore urged, sitting himself down at his desk. He pushed a bowl of sweets towards her. “Would you like one?”
Marlene took one gratefully - a sherbet lemon - and popped it in her mouth. She watched as the headmaster began to rifle through some files on his desk.
“Let’s see, let’s see…” he murmured. Adjusting his crescent-moon spectacles, he pulled out a document with Marlene’s face on it. “Ah, there you are. Six O-Levels? I’m impressed.”
Flushing slightly, Marlene mumbled a small thanks.
“You should be proud, Miss McKinnon. Now, what did I need to speak to you about? Ah, yes - as you know, you are being provided benefits.”
She froze. Marlene did not know that.
Dumbledore straightened a stack of files, before leaning forward with his elbows on the desk. “You, my dear, have been performing very well so far. I ask you to continue with this effort. Otherwise…”
He trailed off, but Marlene didn’t need him to continue. “I’ll be expelled,” she said simply.
A nearby parrot mocked, “I’ll be expelled!” Dumbledore quickly clamped its beak shut, and Marlene couldn’t help but snort.
“I’m terribly sorry, excuse him… Ahem, but you are right. Of course, I don’t want to put pressure on you, though I have records from your previous schools. You are a bright student, Marlene, but your behaviour is apparently lacking at times.” He fixed her with a firm stare. Stubbornly, Marlene held his gaze. “If you need them, we have councillors at this school, and you can always talk to one of our staff members…”
“I’ll think I’ll be okay,” Marlene interrupted, trying not to let the utter repulsion show on her face. She'd had enough of school counselling for a lifetime to come.
Dumbledore chuckled, even as a parakeet began nibbling on his ear. “Of course. But the offer is still out there. Sweet?”
As she took another delicacy from the bowl (this time, she landed on a lime-flavoured jelly bean), Marlene asked, her voice quieter than she would’ve liked, “What if my scores slip?”
“We’ll have leniency, of course, if there are other pressing matters. But if there is not, your marks should stay at least passing,” he told her. “Now, off you pop! I suspect Mister Pettigrew is trying to hold onto his bladder, from what the birds tell me.”
“What was he talking about?” Peter asked eagerly as soon as he came out of the toilets. Then, seeing the look on Marlene’s face, he raised his hands in surrender. “Only if you want to tell me, obviously…”
Needless to say, she didn’t want to tell him the whole truth - the look of pity was undoubtedly the worst mixture of embarrassment and shame one could experience - so Marlene decided to only tell Peter about the behaviour issues from her past. Peter listened earnestly, stars in his eyes.
“So you’re like a trouble-maker?” he asked as they walked through to the common room.
Marlene huffed. “No, I’m not. I just get into trouble.”
“Is that Pete talkin’ to a girl?” a boy suddenly hollered from the sofa of the common room, followed by a chorus of “Oooooooh”s.
Marlene cringed as Peter quickly tried to defend himself, crying, “She’s just a friend! You lot are weird!”
“She’s the new girl, isn’t she?” asked another, adjusting his glasses. His smile reminded Marlene greatly of Delphina, and was infused with the same kindness. “I’m James. That’s Sirius, and he’s Remus.”
She faltered. Sirius and James? Barty told her to stay away from those two. She couldn’t imagine why; they seemed pretty friendly. And, well, Peter was friends with them.
She was led over to the beanbag, where she sat next to Sirius, who was on the floor.
In truth, Marlene wanted to leave. She was surrounded by a group of boys, each of vastly different aesthetics and yet similarly as intimidating as the next. Perhaps except for Peter…
“I’m Marlene,” she spoke, eyes mostly on the aforementioned boy, who encouraged her to speak up. “I picked English, Psychology, and History.”
Sirius, leaning back on Remus’ legs, grinned, “That’s cool! I picked mostly the same, except I chose Music instead of Psychology.”
“Music?” said Marlene, surprised. She looked over his figure. Shirt untucked, tie loosened, hair out, nails painted black: the exact aesthetic of a textbook rockstar. Barty had told her that Sirius had strict parents, so she couldn’t imagine they would be pleased with such a rebellious attire. It made her respect him enough to bite back a burning question about his probably sensitive past.
“Moony picked music too,” Sirius bragged. Remus, who had been playing with his hair, tugged on it.
“Stop calling me that in front of other people.”
“Ow!”
Marlene looked at them curiously, yet she couldn’t help but laugh. “Moony?”
“Moony is Remus’ nickname,” Peter quickly explained. “James is Prongs, Sirius is Padfoot, and I’m Wormtail.”
“We’re the Marauders,” James said proudly.
“…Right.” She looked at all four of them, and tried not to judge. Barty had warned her that they were all strange characters, and she’d met weirder people before, but seeing a group of supposedly well-brought-up rich kids act anything less than royalty felt a little… off. In fact, it had been a recent discovery to her that, despite their wealth and prestige, the students at Hogwarts weren’t much different to the kids she was used to hanging around.
“We’re making a band, we are,” Sirius grinned. “Well, Prongs and Pete, they didn’t pick music, but we’ll still be a band.”
“We are a band already, aren’t we?” James chimed, nudging Sirius, who just beamed at him.
“The best band, actually.”
“Because of you…”
“Aww, Jamie… No, because of us…”
Remus rolled his eyes, giving Marlene a look that said: Get a load of these guys. She chuckled, sweeping a look over his figure. He had scars all over him, and brown fluffy hair which curled over his ears. He was kind of cute in an ugly way.
Immediately after having that thought, Marlene grimaced inwardly - she sounded like Ezra.
She stood abruptly, unable to watch James and Sirius passionately air make-out anymore. “I think… I should go. Goodnight.”
Marlene left the room before anyone could protest (“You scared her away, Sirius!” “Not my fault she can’t handle a bit of intimacy…”) hurrying up the stairs to her dorm and throwing the door open. As she walked inside, however, she spotted her three roommates huddling on one bed, muttering to each other. Marlene could hardly catch any of it, but she could just about hear her name amidst the whispering.
They were talking about her. Again.
Marlene’s jaw clenched so hard her gums began to ache. She felt like she needed to hit something, so she pinched herself before there would be a victim.
“I don’t know how you talk so much shit about me when I've been here only a day,” she said, announcing her presence. Lily, Dorcas, and Mary simultaneously swivelled their heads around to look at her, their faces presenting various levels of wariness.
“Oh, Marlene!” Lily tried to smile, but Marlene wasn’t having any of it.
“Don’t ‘Oh, Marlene’ me,” she sneered. “Don’t act like you’re some perfect saint. You’re nothing but a two-faced bitch - all of you are.”
There was a tense silence, before Dorcas stepped forward. “It’s not our fault we don’t know how to talk to you. You’re not exactly sociable.”
“Maybe if you bothered to ask-“
“How would we ask if you’re always running away from us?” she interrupted, her gaze infuriatingly steady.
Marlene scoffed. “I’m not running away, I just don’t want to talk to you if you’re going to act like I’m some fragile ornament you’re afraid to touch.”
“And your insecurities are our fault?”
“Weren’t you the one that laughed at me when I fell first day in?”
Dorcas snorted. “Well, that was pretty funny.”
In a bout of rage, before anyone could stop her, Marlene shoved Dorcas back into the bedpost. The smack of wood against skin was deafening - Mary gasped loud enough for all four of them, and Lily immediately ran to go get someone for help.
Dorcas retaliated by yanking at Marlene’s hair, to which Marlene grabbed a hold of her braids.
“Don’t fucking touch me!”
“Let go of me, you cunt!”
All Marlene could feel was the flaring pain on her head, and so she yanked and tugged and pulled and heaved - until she felt no resistance, and fell back. That’s strange, she could still feel Dorcas’ braids…
Silence held. Then, Mary screamed.
“You ripped her braids out!”
The cry alerted the people outside and they crowded around the dorm, trying to peek in at the mention of a fight, but Lily came back with Aurora Rosmerta, a beefy, muscular girl, who pushed through the mob and managed to shut the door behind them.
However, Marlene didn’t notice any of it, not when her blood was still rushing in her ears and her heart was still pounding at her ribcage. Rather, she was solely focused on Dorcas’ distress. Marlene thought that seeing her normally docile face contort into something of despair would satisfy her, but it only deepened that swirling pit of anxiety in her gut. She stumbled to her feet, lips murmuring around the edge of an apology, but Marlene couldn’t say it.
How could she? After what she did, with such intent of harm, how could she apologise?
“Dorcas, I…”
“How dare you!” Mary erupted. “Braids are expensive, you know?! I should rip out your hair, you-“
“Mary-“
“-And you ripped the roots out as well! She has to live with a bald spot-“
“MARY!” Lily snapped. “You’re not making things any better!”
She gestured to Dorcas, who, in the light of new attention, ran into the bathroom and locked herself in.
“Well, this is just great,” Aurora sighed, folding her arms. “Look what you did, girl.”
Marlene looked down at the braids in her hand, until Mary snatched them from her with a glare. Her and Lily began calling out for Dorcas through the bathroom door, although it was a fruitless effort.
Marlene took it as her cue to leave, turning towards the door and swinging it open - instantly, she was swarmed with an army of nosy students, asking countless questions. Aurora made sure no one could get in and told everyone to either return to their dorms or leave. Reluctantly, the crowd dispersed.
Marlene wanted to thank her but she was too busy sulking about the events from before. Aurora was probably marching her off to Dumbledore’s office to report her, anyway.
“You’re lucky it wasn’t Maya who caught you,” Aurora huffed as they found solace in the quiet. “She would’ve given you a shit-ton of detentions.”
“Is she a prefect, then?” Marlene asked. Maya must’ve been the girl she saw with the prefect badge speed-walking down the corridor that morning, with her ponytail bouncing vigorously behind her.
Aurora sighed, scratching her cheek. “Yeah… but she takes it too far sometimes. Even Miss McGonagall has told her off for being too uptight.”
“Oh… Are you a prefect, too?”
“Only when Remus isn’t doing his job - like today.”
That caused Marlene’s eyebrows to raise. “Remus is a prefect?”
“He doesn’t look it, does he?” smirked Aurora. She led her towards the common room, which was now empty after everyone had sped up at news of a fight. “He never wears his badge unless he gets told off. He had to be one after Lily was elected Head Girl.”
“Head Girl, huh?” mused Marlene. “Who’s Head Boy?”
“James Potter. You’ve seen him around? Glasses… Football team captain…”
She nodded. “Pretty hard to miss.”
They walked in silence again, until they ended up at the forest’s edge, to which Marlene raised a quizzical brow at Aurora. The girl smirked, nudging Marlene right on her trouser pocket, where she kept her cigarettes.
“I’m not stupid, McKinnon. You’re clearly in need of a smoke break. Be quick, and be inconspicuous. The others probably don’t want you in their dorm for a bit, anyway.”