Author's Note:
This may feel slightly confusing at first, but it will gradually get clear at the end.
I will be really thankful to whoever who comments, so please do!
"Marlene McKinnon, she was killed two weeks after this was taken, they got her whole family."
~Alastor Moody
"Marley McKinnon, head design witch of Twilfitt and Tattings."
"Marley McKinnon, owner of Honeydukes."
Tomorrow she is starting Hogwarts. She lies on the grassy slope outside of the house, where she can hear the voices of her siblings inside. She is the first of them all to start Hogwarts, and they will be enviously waving good bye tomorrow, but in the meantime, she can dream about all the possibilities of the magical world that she will soon be entering.
"Marlene McKinnon, Broom Maker."
"Marlene McKinnon, Chaser of the Holyhead Harpies"
The Gryffindor common room is quite unordinary empty. First year had consisted of the ordinary mishaps of misplaced homework and the familiar strain of exams, along with the novelty of waving a wand and harnessing magic. Second year, and exams haven't started yet, so along with the other members of Hogwarts house, her friends had deserted her to enjoy the outside while they could. That was how she found herself sinking in a stuffed armchair celebrating by herself. The childlike game had come back to her, now influenced by the image of her name written next 'Gryffindor Chaser' on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team notice still jumping giddily in her mind.
"Marlene McKinnon, International Director of Sports."
"Marlene McKinnon, Head of Department of Magical Sports."
There might not even be a Ministry in a few years.
Newspapers that had once been filled with lighthearted news of celebrities and boring political agreements now are literary graveyards.
Some of her friends have been pulled from school, and even the teachers have become affected, leaving her time in the afternoons to dream a life she will most likely never have.
When she had barely started Hogwarts, her dreams had been brightly tinted with the colors of candy wrappers. Now they are the musty grey with a few slivers of their original color.
Voldemort has taken friends, youth, and security away from her, but as long as she has a heartbeat, there is still time for her to dream.
She doesn't truly yet know how much her time is limited.
"Marlene McKinnon, Auror."
"Marlene McKinnon, Order member."
Those words aren't dreams anymore. They are reality; they are what she introduces herself by, what others need her for, and the reason others would kill her for.
Those are the words that an eleven, twelve, and sixteen year-old Marlene would never have dreamed of herself even thinking about, let alone introduced by, and the nineteen year-old Marlene condoles herself that maybe when this war is over, the real her will come out, unscathed.
As it turns out, the only resulting part of her unscathed at the end is her Patronus.
"Marlene McKinnon, the little blood-traitor witch."
Her parents are dead, struck down with killing curses before they could even turn around. Upstairs in the shared bedroom, Marlene McKinnon can feel the trembling of her twelve year-old younger sister, one of the sole surviving members, as Marlene keeps a steady wand trained at Antonin Dolohov, unfazed by his words.
Her abilities are limited, so Marlene does the only thing she can.
The shield she has cast around her sister will hold until reinforcements arrive, and that is Marlene's only hope as she removes her wand pointed at Dolohov's chest, thinks of her happiest memory, and screams, "Expecto Patronum!"
It will not work.
She is dying.
Marlene has never successfully cast a patronus in her life.
The only thing left to do is dream.
But it does work.
Miraculously, her wand tip bursts with light, but before she can see the distinct shape, the whole room is illuminated by green light as the curse hits her squarely on the chest, ending her dreams once and for all.
Marlene McKinnon never was a robe designer, she was never was a chaser of an international team, and she was never was the Head of a Sports Department.
She was an Auror, using her magical abilities to defend, to fight, to kill.
Had Marleen been conscious somewhere, she would have thought it ironic that her last spell was a successful patronus, the spell that alerted the Order Members to the Dark Mark over the house, the spell that wasn't quick enough to save her sister before the shield charm caved, and the spell that brought all her unfulfilled yearnings to her mind before she fell for the last time.
If someone had told Marlene nine years ago that all her dreams would amount to nothing, she would have tossed her head and laughed, joking that they were just jealous that she would be attending Hogwarts in a year. Marley McKinnon believed in fairytales where dreams came true, and life where good always triumphed over evil. Marlene McKinnon was cynical, able to let her wand go on autopilot when she cast deadly curses against masked people. The only similarity left at the end was their hope. Marley McKinnon looked forward to the future, where anyone could amount to anything. Marlene McKinnon looked back on the past, wondering when it all went wrong, and hoping that tomorrow would be different from today.
"If You Still Have a Heartbeat, There Is Still Time For You To Dream"
Author's Note:
Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)
Assignment #9: Religious Education: Forms of Worship, Task 8
Task 8 - Totems - Write about someone's first time producing a Patronus. (Restriction: cannot be Harry or any member of Dumbledore's Army)
Word count: 793
Also written for Insane 1000 prompt challenge:
865. Plot Point- Chanting Your Own Name