PART ONE: Point Coquille
Summary
In Divination there is a common saying among seers: "A shell's energy brings about harmony even to the roughest seas." Point Coquille plays host to upper-class wizards every summer and with them, a society with its own complications. A stray dog, a family of uneasy Ravenclaws caught in the crossfire, a temperamental witch, and a community tearing at the seams of various ideologies. On the seashell lined shores of Point Coquille, Sirius Black has to make peace with being disowned. To Marlene McKinnon, Sirius Black has come to disturb her own inner peace.
A summer at Point Coquille merely marked the beginning.
Chapter One
Point Coquille
In Divination there is a common saying among seers: "A shell's energy brings about harmony even to the roughest seas."
July 4th, 1976
Dear Most Incorrigible Padfoot,
All is well on the Potter Front (for now). The weather has been absolutely rotten since we've gotten back to Chester so Mum's made a right fuss about it being this way when we're down at St. Ives. We're leaving tomorrow evening so Mum's made me owl you and ask when we could be expecting your grand entrance at the holiday home. I trust you remember very well where it is. And if after six years you can't remember, don't bother showing up.
Don't be shy to Floo in, although I know you won't be.
Mum's on my case about my packing (I've apparently haven't packed a chock-full of jumpers that she'd be pleased with). I'm off to ready a wardrobe of jumpers I won't be wearing. I swear, the first day back I'm Jamesie, by the second day I'm Franky First Year around here.
Write back soon!
Your warm and weather equipped friend,
Prongs
P.S.: Don't bring jumpers.
P.P.S.: Stop feeding Sicra treats, she's looking more like a Fwooper every time she gets back from yours.
—
The summer nights of July 1976 were all around stiff and silent in southern England. Nestled between theprickling seashell-lined shores of Porthminster and the rich green highlands of Cornwall were a constellation of upscale and charming holiday homes. From the exterior, Point Coquille's brown brick summer homes appeared docile and proper.
—
July 5th, 1976
Dear Warm and Offensive Prongs,
First of all, I'll have you know that the incorrigible part was uncalled for. True. But uncalled for, none the less. The weather in London has been nothing but dreadfully warm, though I can't say I envy your conditions, but I rest well at night knowing you'll be warm throughout the rain in your many jumpers.
I'm not sure when exactly I'll be planting the Devil Snare seed of an idea in the old hag that I'll be escaping to yours soon. But as soon as the shrilling screams have died down I'll be right over. I take it by the time you receive my reply you're already in the humble home surrounded in the warmth of the high-class aristocrats of the wizarding community. I'll make sure to post this to you at Point Coquille with Sicra's table manners up to par.
Let me know how it goes on the Potter Front now that you've got the Ravenclaw Front in your company. I promise I'm not laughing.
Your Bored Friend Who Should Be Allowed To Find Pleasures In the Little Things,
Padfoot
P.S.: If I bring any they'll be just for you, because that's how much of a good friend I am.
P.P.S.: Sicra is a curvy owl and she likes it.
—
The blanket of silence and stillness that swept across the community that evening may have been owed to the heat. The summer's warmth was pounding against the bricks of homes and seeping through cracks. Regardless of the hour of the evening, the stiff air remained unforgiving and preyed on the families that hoped to wind down over roast and potatoes.
—
July 5th, 1976
Dear Benjy,
To make this letter far less dramatic than how I'm feeling I'm going summarize the beginning of my summer in one sentence: Guess whose come back home?
You probably guessed right with that fantastic Ravenclaw foresight of yours. To which I have to pose the next question. When are you getting here? I'm not sure how I'm going to last all summer with the Dense Duo and perfect Edmund McKinnon.
I'm not sure how much I'm allowed to tell you, but he announced at dinner he was leaving his post with the Curse Breakers in Egypt and coming to fill in a Ministry position he got offered. Did you know he said it was boring? BORING breaking into thousands of year old tombs. Only Edmund McKinnon would say such a pompous thing with that smile of his.
Did you know all that Egyptian sun has just made his teeth look whiter? I didn't think it were possible.
I'm going mad already. Tell me you and your family will be in Point Coquille shortly? I know you're due to be in Greece at the beginning of August, but I feel you owe me tad after that stint in Charms Club.
Please please please write back soon with good news.
Earnestly waiting to hear from you!
-Marlene
P.S.: The weather is splendid here! Have I persuaded you enough?
—
July 6th, 1976
Dear Misguided Marlene,
Great to hear from you too, Marlene! I'm doing swell, thank you for asking so persistently! It's always great to receive an owl from your best friend, open it, and see the time and care they took into writing it. Now, I don't want to take too much time talking about myself. I wouldn't want to seem rude.
You know I'm only joking. Slightly.
But straight to it because I'm shameless and just as curious. He's BACK? But he's been gone for three years, why come back now? I would scold you and remind you about sibling love and all, but I'm a little shocked to be fair. After all the fuss the Prophet made about him being the "youngest curse breaker in decades" you'd think he'd finally found the recognition he's always sought after. I didn't think there would be any going downwards from there. I actually thought he'd end up making some profound discovery that we'd eventually end up reading about in History of Magic.
Aside from that, the Fenwicks are all packed up and ready to head out to the shore by next weekend, so hold on tight. I'll be on my way so I can get a first-hand look at the blinding smile myself.
I would also like to remind you that it happened one time. "Shrink" and "Stink" sound very similar when you're half asleep because you were up half the night helping a certain nervous someone with the History of Magic test that day.
Looking forward to seeing your delighted expression when I Floo in!
-Benjy, Your Saviour.
P.S.: How did your parents react? Well, I mean. Which little emotion did they choose to show?
—
Two families in particular were managing as they gathered in the warm dining room. It was no surprise to the upper-class wizarding community that the Potters and McKinnons chose to vacation together each summer at Point Coquille. Their notorious family tie linked as far back before the boyish days of both Egbert McKinnon and Fleamont Potter. Their fathers had met when they both served in the Wizengamot alongside eachother. It wasn't until after Henry Potter publicly denounced the then-Minster for Magic's decision to forbid wizards and witches from helping Muggles during the First World War that Edward McKinnon approached the Gryffindor. Edward found profound admiration for Henry's nobility and courage and decided to discuss his own views and debates he had been chronicling in journals about the Statute of Secrecy.
The wizard community took note of the blossoming friendship, Cantankerus Nott especially. After a verbal-spat in which Nott warned Edward if he continued to associate himself with an "extremist like Potter", his entire lineage would suffer being crossed off the Sacred Twenty-Eight of the Pureblood Directory. To which Edward scavenged the little audacious courage his Ravenclaw gut could muster and spat on the Wizengamot floor next to Nott: "That's what I think of your directory." It was then Henry's turn to find profound admiration for the stately Ravenclaw's loyalty and stance, who so rarely showed uncouth behaviour.
It was then, in their views and newly outcast status, did the Potters and McKinnons form a bond.
Until recently.
—
July 6th, 2015
Dear Useless Padfoot,
I assumed when Sicra came back empty-clawed it was because either she lost your letter or you didn't write back. Which is impossible because who can shut you up?
Day one has barely begun and I'm about to tear my hair out. Last night we got in and all was well. Lots of unpacking to do and cleaning up the dust and such… except throughout the entire process McKilljoy did nothing but ask question after question to dad about the Potions O.W.L. She was walking him through the practical like she was trying to get her results through him. I asked mum if I could take care of the garden work because I was about to lose it. But I kept quiet. Mostly because it was pitch black outside and mum gave me a look.
Now, you know I'm not the type to beg. And I will not beg you of all people, but tell me you're getting here soon? The unpacking and cleanings all done, since that's probably what you've been scheduling around.
Floo in soon, you mangy mutt.
-Prongs
July 7th, 1976
Benjy,
Yes, just "Benjy" because I am at my wits of how frustrated I am right now and how I'm trying very hard to hide how annoyed I am. This morning at breakfast all Potter could do was drone on and on about his Quidditch team. Apparently they're playing later on this month. Puddle of Mud or something they're called. Point is, that during the entire rant there were specks of his muesli flying across the table onto my plate. Needless to say I was not having anything aside from tea this morning.
Don't even get me started on Edmund. If I have to hear the story about the bloke who got his foot stuck in a tomb one more time I'm going to vanish him back to Egypt. I rather hear McGonagall scratch her paws down her chalk board over and over.
Do you know what he said to me the other day? I was going through Mr. Potter's collection (he's got the first edition of "Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes"! I'll show you when you get here) when Edmund waltzes in. He sees me reading and says in that pompous tone "Enjoy your reading, Marlene?" so I go ahead and try to be civil and mutter "'sFine." I think if I ignore him maybe he'll get the point and move along.
No.
Instead he continued to make conversation. Or more like his version of conversation.
"Not having trouble reading such a large fancy book, are you?" he says.
"Smart, Gryffindor girl like yourself should be having no trouble. I remember reading it in during my third year summer."
Smart Gryffindor girl like myself? Benjy. What does he mean? I know what he means. It means, if he makes another jab at me being sorted into Gryffindor I'm going to vanish him into one of the tombs in Egypt. But that'll just give him another ruddy fantastic story to tell at dinner when he manages to escape.
Benjy. Help. I don't know if I can handle it if half of the Dense Duo hasn't even arrived yet.
-Marlene
—
Because in culmination with Marlene's uptight attitude and James Potter's knack for troublemaking, there was a very slim chance in the durability of the McKinnon-Potter tie. There had been no tight-knit friendship created over the years between Marlene and James, and Edmund was at least three years his senior. On the contrary Marlene and James could hardly remember ever having a substantial conversation. Possibly in their youth there might have been childish exchanges and arguments over frivolous matters.
Truth was, Marlene could not stand James Potter and his band of havoc-reeking friends. And James chose not to endure Marlene's serious attitude. Aside from Remus, Marlene didn't interact much with the remaining three obnoxious Gryffindors. There has been a growing bitter animosity between Marlene and James and Sirius the moment they stepped on the Hogwarts grounds.
Marlene liked order.
Direction.
And achievement.
It's why it made her such an easy target for teasing by the boys.
They enjoyed chaos.
Impulsiveness.
And freedom.
Sirius enjoyed hexing Marlene's Arithmancy charts and the fury that would bubble over on her once expressionless face.
Marlene relished biting comments about James and Sirius not belonging at Hogwarts.
James took too much pleasure in rolling his eyes when Marlene's hand shot up in class, but left the dirty work to Sirius with a simple nudge.
Remus felt sorry for Marlene after every Arithmancy lesson as they'd walk out together. Sirius and James always seemed to be waiting, leaning languidly on the opposite wall, snickering to themselves at the two emerging Gryffindors.
Marlene savoured walking past Sirius polishing trophies during his detention and smirking to herself.
And Sirius enjoyed holding up an award and reading her brother's name out loud: "Edmund, Edmund, Edmund. So many Edmund McKinnons, but no. No, Marlene McKinnon in here." And watching her storm off.
In hushed tones in the Great Hall they were the "Dense Duo" to Marlene.
In letters and notes in class she was "McKilljoy" to James and Sirius.
But in every other occasion they managed to stay out of each other's way. They were background noise. A bland comment on the weather.
Unless provoked.
—
July 8th, 1976
Padfoot,
Where are you mate? You'd normally be here by now eating everything out of the pantries. Think I might finally be gaining weight since you're not here eating the extra. Mum's been bothering me to owl and ask again. She wants to know how many tickets to get to the Puddlemore match next week! Mr. McKinnon got two tickets close to the top box, but he can't go because he's got some "prior engagement". Dad and I reckon he just doesn't care much for Quidditch. Dad says he was like that at Hogwarts too, only used to come out to watch dad play and even then he was lost. One time he came out cheering when Ravenclaw lost and dad had to come to his rescue. Since it's only two tickets so mum needs to know if you'll be here by then (which you will, but formalities for dear mum) because then she'll know if she should get one more.
Really good spots so get excited! I'll tell mom to get it anyway, no way are you missing if Craig Davidson's finally breaks Jocelind Wadcock's record!
-Prongs
July 9th, 1976
Padfoot,
Mum placed the order on the ticket so we're set to go. I know! I know! You're not as excited for Quidditch, but I am not giving up the chance of seeing them beat the Catapults in the playoffs for a spot in the League Cup.
Also, went downstairs after a kip this afternoon and found the McKinnons in the living room all reading. They looked at me from behind their books and it was eerie. I swore I was looking at one of those statues in dad's Muggle Art History books. You'd think they'd know a different expression apart from "stoic". You have to see it for yourself so get your flea ridden arse here!
-Prongs
July 10th, 1976
Sirius,
Where are you?
-James.
—
Marlene found her mind had drifted off in midst of the warm dining room. Maybe it was the heat playing tricks on her mind, but she was finding it hard to concentrate on Edmund's story, even if she did care to listen. Marlene wasn't sure why, maybe it had to do with her staring at the seashell pattern stitched into the mantle. Her mind traced back to something she had learned in Divination in her third year.
Seashells were meant to represent tranquillity and peace.
They were used in Divination for this purpose; because they radiated the soothing energy from the water. So why at Point Coquille, which was known for its abundance of seashells, was Marlene not feeling 'tranquil' or at 'peace'.
The French doors of the villa were wide open to allow the scarce fresh air to circulate. Marlene had strategically sat in front of the gaping door hoping the wind would sweep across her face, but it only had done so mercilessly less than often. James must have had the same idea since he sat across from her, flushed, and closing his eyes when the occasional breeze brushed over his neck.
"Naturally, I couldn't leave him by himself."
The tinkering of laughter brought Marlene back to the brown and ivory marbled dining room. James and Marlene shared a knowing look, the only sad excuse of a conversation they seemed to share when it concerned Edmund.
"But somehow the chap managed to get his foot stuck inside again." Edmund finished coyly smiling into his wine glass. His dark brown hair was smartly parted with precision and his charming smile gleamed against his clean shaven and sun-bronzed face.
The seashells had failed Marlene once more. She scowled and pushed her vegetables around her plate.
"Marlene." Euphemia Potter chuckled lightly. Her kind hazel eyes regarded Marlene across the table with mirth, "I haven't seen you this upset over cauliflower since you were five."
Marlene felt a pressing warmth creep up her neck and it wasn't due to the heatwave. She could already feel Marta and Egbert McKinnon's disapproving glances from their end of the table. The sound of their faces setting in harsh stoic lines were almost audible. James, she was almost certain, was smirking into his own wine glass.
But proper witches did not kick shins under the table.
They merely waited for the opportune moment to strip them of their pride.
Edmund was unperturbed by the interruption as he placed his wine glass down before continuing with his story. He was recounting one of his many adventures in the tombs of Egypt. Marlene could only think of the poor 'clueless intern' who had taken centre stage in Edmund's monologues. From the amount of times she had heard the story she had choreographed all the right times to smile. But it was far too hot to feign interest.
She fidgeted with her silverware and once more made to drone out Edmund with little effort. She tried to focus on anything that wasn't his voice.
The heat generously aided to her cause.
Where was her peace and tranquillity, Professor Helenus?
With a silent exhale Marlene reached forward for her wine glass. But as she brought the glass to her lips, her eyes flickered upward, and the glass slipped from her hand— a loud gasp erupted from her throat.
The room's temperature dropped swiftly.
Or had that been her own pressure plummeting?
An icy chill had settled over her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention to the unfolding sight.
"Marlene! That's authentic Egyptian linen—" She heard it come from her mother's end of the table, but it sounded as if it were fighting its way up a deep tunnel.
Had she swallowed her tongue mid-gasp?
Say something!
But only a croak scratched out of her tight sandpaper throat.
Marlene hadn't noticed the tremble in her hands until they came up to clasp over her mouth as she clumsily took in the sight in front of her.
Everyone at the table had stared at Marlene in bemusement before looking over to the spot her troubled attention was fixated.
A pale, worn, and haggard Sirius Black took final shuffling steps. His movement was slow and sluggish, his step weighing him down further from the effort it took. He moved to lean all his weight against the open French doors and dropped exhausted against it. His bruised hands clutched onto the door for dear life. A pained and defeated expression etched the tired lines of his face. Ebony black hair, once so pristine, was tussled and pressed against his face from the sweat formed on his pale forehead. Or was that water? The contrast caused a drastic look to his pallor. Typically smug grey eyes were heavily lidded and unfocused as he winced and panted.
Was that sand heavily coating his shoes and cloak?
She stood up; lost at what to do. The immediate scratching of the chairs against the marbled floors, in any other occasion, would have called for a scolding. But this time they made a cry to aid. Marlene watched as James, without a second's hesitance, flocked to Sirius' side. He moved to drape Sirius' arm across his lanky and tall frame. Quickly, Euphemia followed suit with Fleamont on her heels to help Sirius inside. Egbert pushed the chairs and other menial objects out of the way as they moved quickly through the kitchen. Edmund and Marta had bustled through the chaos, leaving the scene in search for a MediWitch Aid kit.
Sirius' pallor was worsening. His head was bobbing involuntarily and his body was slacking heavier by the second against James.
Marlene felt a sick twist in her stomach as it clenched involuntarily. She stood glued to the spot in wine soaked robes as the wizard staggered past her—pale and wounded.
It was then that a thought occurred to Marlene in her shocked and useless trembling frame. Her third year in Divination had been a waste, because no amount of seashells surrounding them were enough to emanate energies of peace and tranquillity.
Where is the peace and tranquillity now, Professor Helenus?
There's snakes in the garden.
Blood on the vines.
Every time I slip away,
It feels like a crime.
(Hush)
Hush— Joy Williams & Matt Berninger