Life's too short to even care at all.
Oh, I'm losing my mind, losing my mind, losing control.
-Cough Syrup
August 29, 1977:
It's a Monday.
I should have known the world would decide to turn upside-down on a Monday.
Let me explain, dear journal. I am now a brunette. That's right. Marlene McKinnon, the brown-haired twit. My beautiful blonde hair, gone, thanks to a certain rubbish Head Boy.
Wait. I'm getting ahead of myself. I told mum I'm a horrid writer...
Anyway. This morning started as any old Summer morning. I woke up and headed down the stairs into the family room. And that's about where the normality ends.
James Potter was in my living room.
Knowing James since I was born has it's own set of challenges, but for one thing, I'm not surprised when he suddenly shows up in my living room. At least he's past the point of caring when my (still gloriously blonde) hair looks like it was attacked by a couple of homeless birds. However, him in my house this early was a bit unorthodox.
"What's-" (yawn) "-wrong? Why're you here?" I asked while in the midst of rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.
"It's Monday." he replied with his signature smirk.
I frowned at him. "Lovely. That's explains a lot, thank you."
"Lord, Marlene, no need to get snippy." He clucked his tongue at me and smiled from the chair he was sprawled in. "It's Monday the twenty-ninth, we're stealing you."
I let out a huge sigh. Ever since James and I started school together, my parents think it's an absolutely grand idea to have me spend the first few days before school with James. I'm not against it, I mean, James is like my brother. But it makes me feel like I'm, you know, unwanted. I feel like they're trying to push me away quicker.
Too busy frowning, I hadn't noticed James had gotten up out of his chair and started to detangle my hair. He had started blabbing on about Quidditch and I tried to pay attention, but my mind was elsewhere. Something about James had changed, but I couldn't put my finger on it.
It didn't have anything to do with his looks, oh no. Nothing had changed that I knew of. Puberty hadn't taken away the gift bestowed on the boy, I'll say that much without feeling incestuous. But really, it's no wonder he has his own group of fangirls. I mean, his messy black hair that annoys the shit out of me because it defies gravity stayed the same. He still the same skinny build with the wiry-muscles. But none of that had changed. He was just... different.
"Marlene, did you even hear me?" James asked, yanking me out of my thoughts.
"Er... No."
He poked me hard in the ribs. "Pay attention. This is amazing for me!"
I turned around and looked at him. "What is?"
You see, James and I never get to finish a conversation. Like, never ever. I really should have expected Mrs. Potter and my mum to walk in at that exact moment and hustle me along.
"Marlene! Why aren't you dressed yet?" my mum 'yelled'. Mum doesn't yell, she just talks louder. It's impossible for her to be intimidating. It's kind of like a kitten trying to bite you. "Go get dressed!" she tried. "Mrs. Potter is waiting!"
So I (somewhat) obeyed her like the good daughter I am.
Have you ever just stared at yourself in the mirror? That's what I did. I am the queen of procrastination, so I stared at myself in the mirror.
Unlike most girls my age, I'm actually happy with the way I look. I love my shoulder-length blond hair. My eyes aren't too small. For a girl of seventeen, I look older than I should, but I honestly don't mind. I'm not too chubby and my Quidditch skills have gotten me plenty of muscles.
Soon my mother talked loud some more and I stopped looking at myself and we were off to the Potter's.
Cue dramatic music.
He's where things get upside-down.
So once all my stuff is in one of the Potter's guest rooms and I'm finally ready to fall back asleep, James dragged me out the door.
"C'mon Marlene," he whined, pulling me to the front of the house. "I've been trying to play Quidditch as much as possible this Summer so we'll beat Ravenclaw in the first match. I need to train you up."
"Is that why I'm here? So you can point out everything I'm doing wrong?" I stepped over to James as he handed me my broom. Had he gotten that out of my shed before we left?
"Get going, McKinnon." he yelled behind him as he sped off on his broom, not waiting for me to mount my own.
I love Quidditch. I mean, I have been on Gryffindor's Quidditch team since third year and if I may say so myself, I'm a pretty great chaser. Well, not as good as Captain Potter, as he insists we call him, but you get the point. I'm good.
Good enough, at least, that I shouldn't have fallen. But you can't blame me. I'll get to that soon enough.
"Heads up, McKinnon!" James shouted, tossing a quaffle at my head.
Balancing precariously on my broom I caught it and tossed it back quicker than usual. Hm. Mum's excersize tape must have worked.
"So, James, what is the 'amazing thing' you wanted to tell me?" I shouted across the pitch as he lobbed the funny little red ball back toward me.
"Oh! I'm Head Boy!"
I wasn't prepared for that answer and you really can't blame me, now can you. I thought is was going to be something more James-like, such as "oh, Marlene! I bought something with muggle money!" or "Sirius found a toenail shaped like Merlin's beard!"
But, "I'm Head Boy" caught me way off guard.
With a squeal I lost my balance on my broom and toppled off. Next thing I know I'm on the ground staring up at the clouds. I didn't feel hurt. Just... tingly. And floaty. If that's a word.
James came running up to me, worried to the point of hyperventilating. "Marlene! Are you okay?" suddenly his face went pale, "Oh no, you're not."
I tilted my head up to look at my limp body. My arms were okay. My right leg, not so much. I felt queasy looking at it. Gross. I don't think it's supposed to bend that way.
James adjusted his glasses and started mumbling incoherently. Occasionally reaching for one of my arms then decided against it.
"Oh for Merlin's sake, James! Help me up!" I hissed.
"Er... Okay, ready?" He grabbed my arms and in one swift movement, my arm was slung over his shoulder and I was standing.
But then the pain decided to start.
I let out a scream so awful I didn't know I could even make that kind of sound. Or that any human could, actually. I tried holding back tears but honestly, I was in a fragile state, so no judging allowed.
I cried like a baby.
"That's it!" I started bumbling. "I'm dead! I'll never walk again! Peeves will have to fly me to all my classes, occasionally giving everyone in the corridor below a view of my knickers!"
"Calm down, McKinnon." James said, taking a weary look at my leg.
Every step we took (well, he took. I was sort of clinging to him as he walked. I jiggled, though.) brought a new shock of pain and more bumbling. I'm such an idiot when I'm in pain.
After what seemed like a mile of walking we finally made it into the house. And then James stepped on my foot.
"OW! Bloody hell, James!" I shouted tears still running down my cheeks.
"Sorry, sorry." he seemed to be looking around for something. Although I barely gave it much thought then because of the excruciating pain coming from my leg. But, dear journal, remind me to be more observant.
James decided to drag me into the family room and set me on the couch while he looked for whatever. I wouldn't have had a problem with that if he had set me down. But no. He thew me onto the couch with another scream escaping from my mouth.
"Just stay here." James said, peering around for something to somehow make the situation better.
"Like I'm going anywhere." I retorted.
He ran out of the room and I shut my eyes. I needed to focus on the positive things. Maybe I won't have to do Charms homework for the first week. Maybe I'll get to spend the first week of school with Pomfrey. She loves me.
"McKinnon!" a boy with long black hair and an elegant face boomed, looking surprised.
Instantly my thoughts came to a halt. I knew that voice. Why was he here? I mean, he had more of a right to be here than I did- he bloody lived here, after all, but still. It's surprising he hadn't heard me howling in pain a few minutes ago and decided to investigate. I peeked an eye open and my heart dropped.
"Bloody hell, what did you do?" he asked, strolling in calmly, though his eyes told a different story. Sure, put an injured girl in front of him, that's fine, but if she's crying, he'd be looking for an escape route. I learned this when Emma Vance was crying because she'd gotten a Dreadful on her Potions O.W.L. and was sobbing during breakfast when we got our timetables last year because she couldn't be an Auror. I've never seen Sirius bolt from breakfast without eating at least a plate of something unhealthy before in my life.
"Nothing, Sirius. Why would you think something was wrong?" I snapped back to reality.
"Oh I don't know, Maybe it's the fact that you're crying and you leg is practically up your ass!"
My eyes shot open to glare at him, "Why are you even here?" I retorted, before realizing the answer a second later. Duh. Blimey, I'm daft.
"I live here! Why are you here?"
Only then did I notice he wasn't wearing a shirt and I quickly shut my eyes again. Not that I didn't need a distraction. Just not that much of one, please.
Okay, shush. I don't fancy him. Not in the slightest. Anyone would find him shirtless a distraction. Hmph.
"Okay, Marley, you ready?" I heard Sirius say.
I opened my eyes again quickly, "What? Ready for what?" I was so panicked at this point that I didn't even bother to yell at Sirius for calling me Marley.
But before I could inquire more from the shirtless Marauder, Sirius quickly said some sort of spell I didn't catch and a brand new sort of pain shot up my leg.
"Ow! Sirius! Bloody hell!" I bit my lip to keep from screaming "Where's Mrs. Potter?!" I whined behind tears.
"Work." James muttered. "Move over, Padfoot. Let me try." he shoved Sirius out of the way and pulled out his wand.
I groaned. "No! I am not your test dummy! If neither of you morons know how to fix my bloody leg take me to St. Mungos!"
"Let's try once more okay, McKinnon?" Sirius sighed, looking impatient before shooting me a smile.
The way that black-haired boy was smiling you'd think everything was going to be okay. So, as panicked as I was, I didn't think twice about taking Sirius's hand.
Another incoherent spell and more pain shot up my leg. I let out a little squeak but it wasn't as bad this time. I honestly thought it might've been fixed until James bloody Potter said two words one never wants to hear when he's on the other side of a wand.
"Oh, shit."
My hand unclenched from Sirius's and I gave him a fearful look. "What?" I asked, "What happened?"
"Erm..." was the boy's reply.
"What did you do? Is my leg still there?" I yelled at James
Very calmly for a boy about to be punched, James took a clump of my hair and pulled it across my face so I could see it.
This time I had a valid reason to sound like I was being murdered. (Not really, but, you know. A reason's a reason.)
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY HAIR?"
"I don't know! But on the bright side, your leg looks fixed!" James smiled innocently.
"How did you bloody manage to do that?!" I squealed taking random clumps of hair and pulling them to my face, still disbelieving that my hair had turned brown. Brown, as in the same color as dirt. As in, brown.
"Um. Luck?"
With a huff I swung my legs across the couch and tried to stand up. I was going to beat the life out of him. Dumbledore will have to find a new Head Boy. This one is dead meat.
But as soon as my leg had to support my weight I fell over in a whirl of new brown hair and squeals.
"Marlene. Sit back down." Sirius said picking me up and setting me back on the couch, "I don't think he fixed it. Remus is coming tomorrow, he'll know what to do."
I tossed a scowl in his direction. And told him to go get my journal.
And now I'm sitting here with an unusable leg and dirt hair. This must be karma or something. I didn't do anything wrong! Why, karma, why? Are you punishing me for staring at a shirtless Sirius? Because I don't fancy him.
You know, I never found out why he was shirtless. I'm going to assume he was hot. Not... hot hot. Warm hot. I never said he was hot hot. I don't think that. And now he's jumping on the bed. He's like an overgrown five-year-old. A not hot hot five-year-old. I mean, I don't generally find five-year-olds hot hot.
Ugh. I need a nap.
Over and out,
Marlene McKinnon
