PART ONE: IN VITAM
Chapter XVI: Six of Swords Reversed
Snape received one month's worth of detentions for hexing me in the corridor. I lied that he'd used a Leg-Locker Curse on me. Despite my protests, Sirius had reported the situation to James. Getting detention from the Head Boy and Girl probably added salt to Snape's wounds.
"What did you tell Snape so he wouldn't hex me?" I asked the following Tuesday in Divination class. Snape had yet to throw any curses at my unsuspecting back, but I'd spent the last few days on edge.
"Wouldn't you like to know," said Rosier. "Are you hoping I'll give you more ideas on how to win him over?"
"No. That ship has sailed." I tried to hide the anger and annoyance in my expression, but judging from Rosier's faint smile, I probably failed. At last, I asked, "Why did you tell your housemates to leave Marl—me alone? Wouldn't they be suspicious of our relationship?"
"It's inconvenient to have my Divination partner hexed by my fellow Slytherins," said Rosier. "Makes for unpleasant classes."
"Do you also stay away from your friends' classroom partners?" I asked.
"Well, for most classes, we're partnered with other Slytherins," said Rosier. His voice remained nonchalant, as if we simply discussed the weather. "Everyone knows to stay away from Elise's Herbology partner as well."
I mulled over this new information. I couldn't hold back the wave of disgust I felt as I imagined the Slytherin students in their common room, discussing who they could and couldn't curse in the corridors. Things probably didn't go down in such an orderly fashion, but the image stuck with me.
"Why didn't you meet me this Saturday?" asked Rosier as he picked up the deck of tarot cards and started to shuffle.
I'd anticipated his question from the moment I'd decided to remain in the Room of Requirement rather than visit that forsaken broom cupboard. I'd spent Sunday and Monday trying to come up with a good explanation.
I flipped through the pages of my textbook without seeing the words as I said, "My friends are going to get suspicious. Stebbins and Johnson probably spread rumors in the Ravenclaw common room, and my friends already caught us together twice."
"They won't be suspicious if we restrict our meetings to the broom cupboard," said Rosier.
"I'd believe that if you didn't have a habit of cornering me in empty corridors."
Surprisingly, Rosier didn't press the matter. He simply accepted my explanation and let it go. We read one another's career fortunes without exchanging a single unnecessary word and parted ways at the end of Divination with only short goodbyes.
My primary reason for avoiding Rosier was to reduce my friend's suspicions. I couldn't risk them thinking that Rosier had me under the Imperius Curse.
But another reason lurked beneath the surface. A sort of anger burned inside of me, though I couldn't exactly explain why I was upset with Rosier. I knew he had his own reasons for wanting to keep Snape on his side. I knew he'd helped spread the rumors about Lily and James to further his own goals. And I knew that if my goals didn't align with his, Rosier wouldn't hesitate to ruin my plans. I knew that about him. I even respected that about him, because I would've done the same if I'd been in his position.
Still, the anger burned in my chest. I wasn't ready to put words to the reason why his betrayal stung, and I was happy to have a legitimate excuse to avoid our meetings in the broom cupboard.
I spent that time with my friends instead. I wish I could say it was out of love and friendship and all that. But the truth was that the fear of being discovered hung over my head like a specter. I clung to them, desperate to prove that I was the real Marlene.
During Wednesday's free period, I went for a walk along the Great Lake with Dorcas and Jenn. Dorcas brought pastries from the kitchen, and we spent the afternoon on the grassy slopes. Dorcas and I puzzled over Transfiguration homework, while Jenn read a book about magical creatures.
Lily and James had stopped hiding their relationship. Which was both a blessing and a curse, I supposed. They no longer avoided addressing each other directly when with other people, but now we had to deal with the moments where their gazes would meet and they'd start smiling stupidly at one another.
When Mary and I pointed this out during our study group, Lily turned bright pink before insisting that she was late for Head Girl duties and fleeing the library.
"Oh to be in the honeymoon stages of a relationship," said Sirius with a dramatic sigh once Lily was out of earshot.
"Give them a couple more days," said Remus. "James is sure to do something pigheaded, and Lily will give him a right scolding."
"I can't wait," said Mary cheerfully.
Once, while Lily and James were on their Head Girl and Boy date, Peter had tricked me into joining Sirius and his girlfriend for a game of Exploding Snap. This resulted in a good fifteen minutes of horror as I tried to hide the fact that I had no clue how to play the game. Sirius had roared with laughter when the explosion card went off like a firecracker during my turn, and I had the overwhelming urge to drag Rosier to the broom cupboard, so he could explain how the damned game worked.
Thankfully, my disastrous play was overshadowed by the fact that Sirius's girlfriend, Louisa Pickering, was actually a genius at Exploding Snap. By the end of the game, she sat with the full deck of cards in front of her, while the rest of us had slightly singed eyebrows and ash smudges on our faces.
On Friday, I came across Mary and Remus sitting beneath a stained-glass window on the seventh floor. Tears stained Mary's cheeks as she clutched what appeared to be a copy of the Daily Prophet. Despite his face bearing signs of exhaustion from the approaching full moon, Remus sat beside Mary on the stone windowsill. He spoke comforting words, but even though she nodded her head in response, Mary seemed not to hear a word he said.
I froze halfway down the corridor. They hadn't noticed me yet. Perhaps I could turn around and take the long route to the Room of Requirement. But then, Remus's tired eyes lifted to meet mine, and I knew there was no way out of this.
I tried to add as much concern to my voice as possible as I asked, "Is there anything I can do to help?"
Mary looked up at me with red, puffy eyes. Then, without saying a word, she lifted up the newspaper so that I could read the article title: "Dark Mark Seen in Night Sky Over Sandbach."
The location meant nothing to me beyond the knowledge that Sandbach was a town in northwest England. However, judging by Mary's actions, I was supposed to understand why this upset her. I managed a weak, "Damn."
"She hasn't heard anything from Reggie yet," explained Remus. He sent a worried glance in Mary's direction before adding, "He was probably working at the Ministry when this happened."
"It says 'night sky.'" Mary's voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "He would have been home by then."
"Is there any way you can contact him without waiting for an owl?" I asked, thinking of the fireplace communication Harry and Sirius had used in the Goblet of Fire.
Mary sniffled as she said, "I already asked. Professor McGonagall said we're only allowed to use the Floo Network for emergencies." She stared down at the newspaper in her hands. "The Dark Mark wouldn't appear for no reason. But the article says they've found no casualties. How can they find no casualties? There are always casualties when a Dark Mark appears. How could they not know— What if Reggie was taken? They can't find any dead, because there are no bodies—" Her voice became more frantic with each word until she could no longer speak and burst into tears.
Remus looked at me, as if I might know what to do.
I threw a longing look down the corridor, wondering if I could make a mad dash for the Room of Requirement. I had no clue how to comfort a crying person. However, the real Marlene would probably be hugging Mary and saying the right things to calm her down.
You don't really think she's under the Imperius Curse, do you?
The memory of standing at the classroom door, listening to Marlene's friends discuss whether I was under the Imperius Curse or not, burned away my thoughts of fleeing. This was another test that I couldn't afford to fail.
Not noticing my inner turmoil, Remus said, gently, "Reggie wouldn't want you to worry like this, Mary."
"That's right," I said quickly. "Don't get caught up in your own fears. We don't know what happened yet."
Remus nodded as he placed as comforting hand on Mary's shoulder. "We can't tell you not to be afraid, but if you let your fear of the unknown consume you, you'll never be able to take a step forward."
"I know." Mary's voice came out small and frail. "I know nothing is confirmed. He might be all right, and I'm worrying for nothing. But Reggie… Whenever I think of the future, of my life after Hogwarts, Reggie's always there. Waking up in the morning beside him, making a pot of tea for us, sharing my stories with him, coming home from work to his smile… What happens if… What do I do… What becomes of me if he's not there?"
Remus opened his mouth, but it seemed he had no words with which to comfort her.
I sat down on the windowsill and wrapped my arms around Mary's shoulders. It was what I imagined the real Marlene would have done. Mary grabbed hold of my robes, as if I was the only thing saving her from downing. I patted the top of her head, because I didn't know what else to do. As I did so, I met Remus's gaze. He gave an approving nod, so I figured I'd done the right thing.
When I saw Mary the next day, she seemed to have put her fears aside for the time being. She smiled and laughed during breakfast, and she went for a walk about the grounds with Lily and me. A couple days later, she received an owl from Reggie, saying that he and his family were unharmed. Mary hadn't cried, but her eyes had turned a little red after reading his letter.
Of course, even as I tried to convince Marlene's friends that I wasn't under the Imperius Curse or conspiring with future Death Eaters, I didn't forget about the diadem. I continued going to the Room of Requirement whenever I had a free moment. I finished learning fourth year spells and made my way through a good chunk of the fifth-year textbooks.
Once I had learned the foundations to potion-making, I let the third-, fourth-, and fifth-year coursework fall to the side, forgotten, as I realized I could pass NEWT Potions class without needing to know how to make Weedosoros or Hair-Raising brews.
Ancient Runes and Divination turned out to be the easiest subjects to master, mainly because they focused heavily on memorization. All I needed to do was slip on the diadem, read through the textbooks, and I had most of the material learned by heart. Herbology required memorization too, but knowing the theory and confronting the plants in the greenhouses were two different matters entirely.
Most my time in the Room of Requirement was spent preparing for upcoming classes and filling in the gap in my learning for Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Every evening, Helena would drift through and fill me in on what she'd observed. The reports on Regulus Black were the same each day. Black continued hanging out with his dreadful friends, he attended Quidditch practices on a regular basis, and occasionally he sat with Rosier and the other seventh years during dinner. As far as Helena could tell, Regulus made no move to interact with Bottlebrush, and thankfully, the other sixth year Slytherins seemed to have left the boy alone as well.
"Snape continues to sulk and scowl," said Helena one night. "He follows those friends of his around like an abandoned pet. I would not say that all is forgiven, but he will not part ways with his friends any time soon."
"Does he spend more time with Dovetail and Avery than the others?" I asked.
Helena frowned. "Not that I have observed."
"What about Rosier?"
"Snape spends no extra time with anyone in particular. When he is not in class or trailing after his friends, he is on the south side of the grounds, practicing his spells."
I drummed my fingers on the brim of the baseball cap. "What spells do you think he's working on? Could you see anything?"
"Snape is careful," said Helena. "He has become even more so after your little mishap outside the Great Hall. He places all sorts of warding spells around him, so that not even a ghost such as myself can approach."
Did Snape need to be that cautious if he was only inventing spiteful hexes and jinxes? Had he become more cautious because he and Rosier had let slip that Dovetail needed Snape for something? But what could it be? Were Dovetail and Avery planning to do something terrible here at Hogwarts? Did they want another repeat of the raid on Hogsmeade?
"Perhaps Rosier wanted to mislead you," said Helena as she drifted in front of me. Her long brows were furrowed as she remained deep in thought. "You have said yourself that he enjoys his tricks."
"Well, we shouldn't rule that possibility out," I admitted. I leaned back in the overstuffed armchair and stared at the open copy of Intermediate Transfiguration. "But when Rosier mentioned Dovetail and Avery, he been trying to calm Snape down. I don't think a lie would have worked in that situation. Of course, Rosier wouldn't have said anything he thought was a serious risk. Likely, he decided I couldn't do any harm with that little piece of information."
"He does not know that you have me," said Helena proudly.
A wry smile crossed my face. "No, he does not."
"Do not worry," said Helena. "I will continue to follow Snape. These Slytherins may be cautious, but no one can maintain their guard forever."
A feeling of warmth burrowed its way into my chest, and I couldn't help but smile up at the proud ghost. "Thank you, Helena."
I meant it. She didn't have to go this far to help me… or rather, to help Marlene. I could only imagine how boring it would be for her to follow two teenage boys around all day, but Helena still did as I asked. I knew she did it out of loyalty to the real Marlene, but I appreciated her efforts all the same. I also found something akin to comfort in speaking to someone who didn't expect me to act like the kind, generous, brave Marlene. Even if that someone was a ghost. I couldn't put the depths of my gratitude to Helena into words, so for now, a simple "thank you" would have to do.
That was how time passed. Classes, friends, diadem. Repeat.
A week passed, and then two. The Halloween Feast came and went. The table spread of puff pastries, cheese pumpkins, autumn squash soup, chicken pot pie, and sausage stuffed peppers left my mouth watering, and for once, I ate until my stomach was full to bursting.
October turned into November, and with it came shorter days and chillier weather. I openly swore at James every time we woke up in the black morning to go for a run. But my words seemed to go in one ear and out the other. With each passing day, James grew more nervous and agitated. After all, the opening match of the Quidditch season took place on the first Saturday of November.
Gryffindor versus Slytherin. A legendary rivalry to open the Hogwarts Inter-House Quidditch Season. And also, a match to make Captain James Potter want to throw up his morning crumpet.
"It'll be fine," I told him during our Thursday morning run. "Didn't you say the Slytherin Quidditch team are a bunch of wankers this year?"
James looked unusually pale beneath his glasses. "Did I say that? I must've been out of my mind. No wonder Lily calls me a braggart. Sure, their Keeper isn't much to talk about, but Talkalot is a smart captain, and Sirius's younger brother is a damn good Seeker, mind."
"Well then, there's nothing to be embarrassed about if you do lose."
With the look James gave me, I might as well have suggested murder. Actually, he probably would have been less offended if I'd proposed assassinating the Slytherin captain.
"I'm kidding," I said. "But really, no one is going to blame you if Gryffindor doesn't win the match. Your friends will still be your friends, Lily will still snog you when she thinks no one's looking, your fellow Gryffindors will still think you're the best Chaser to ever walk Hogwarts's halls."
"That's ridiculous," said James immediately. "Do you know how many generations of the Parkin family have attended Hogwarts? They have moves named after them."
"Yes, yes, they founded the Wigtown Wanderers, they invented Parkin's Pincer, Parkin's Pass, and Parkin's Push." I let flow the Quidditch knowledge, gained through hours of poring over history books and newspaper articles.
"Don't forget the Parkin's Parallel Play—a work of art, that one."
"Why do all these moves have alliterative names?"
James's eyes lit up at that. "It's about the showmanship, Marle! The razzle-dazzle!"
I stared at him with his manic hand gestures and bright hazel eyes. Then, I let out a long sigh and said, "It's too early in the morning for razzle-dazzle. I need another crumpet."
Our conversation about the nuanced art of naming Quidditch maneuvers lasted for duration of the walk back to the castle. For that short amount of time, at least, I managed to distract James from the looming Quidditch match.
Of course, there was no way to escape it. Everywhere I went that week, I overheard students talking about the opening match. The Gryffindors loudly proclaimed that this was their year to win, while the Slytherins hyped up their captain, Lucinda Talkalot. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had no personal stake in the game, but it seemed most everyone wanted to see Slytherin lose. I overheard Persephone Rowle condemning the Slytherin Quidditch team as a bunch of cheaters, and I wondered just how thorough her deception was.
I, for one, was thrilled: a Gryffindor Quidditch match meant I wouldn't have to get up early to go running with James. On Saturday, I managed a whole extra two hours of nightmare-free sleep before Dorcas woke me with a cry of, "You'll miss the match if you sleep any longer, you lump!"
I opened one eye and saw Dorcas dressed like a red and gold Christmas ornament. Her hair was held back with red headband, while she'd woven golden ribbons through her tight, black curls. She wore a bright red winter cloak over a gold-threaded sweater and a maroon skirt. She'd even done her makeup with glittering gold eyeshadow.
"Morn." I rolled out of bed, barely managing to get the word out.
"Don't be a prat," said Dorcas. "Smile, be happy, wear your best reds."
"It's just a bunch of dobbers on broomsticks," I muttered as I rummaged through Marlene's closet. I blinked the sleep from my eyes, barely able to tell one shirt from another. Then, I remembered that I was supposed to be ex-Quidditch player Marlene McKinnon, and I quickly said, "I'm getting ready. You know I wouldn't miss a Quidditch match."
"It's our last year!" cried Dorcas. "Besides, James will cry if his retired Quidditch rival isn't there to watch."
"But that would certainly add some entertainment to the match," said Jenn in her usual airy voice. She wore a red scarf and the same golden eyeshadow as Dorcas.
I found a scarlet sweater and figured that would have to do. Of course, it then got covered by a navy winter coat. My lack of Gryffindor colors upset Dorcas, and she cast a Color-Changing Charm on my Hufflepuff scarf.
Once I had an appropriate level of red and gold in my outfit, the three of us made our way to the Great Hall for a quick breakfast. The Quidditch teams had already left for the pitch, so we found our friend group minus James sitting at the Gryffindor table. I had time to grab a couple pieces of toast before Peter and Mary dragged me away.
Remus summoned a small flame to keep us warm as we made our way down the winding path. A wind blew across the Great Lake, disturbing Remus's flame and causing us to snuggle into out coats. After we passed the lake and started down the slope, the Quidditch pitch came into full view.
The high walls of the oval stadium and the colored banners hanging from the four towers weren't surprising to me at this point; I passed by the Hogwarts's Quidditch pitch on my runs with James. However, I'd never actually been inside the stadium before. It was a difficult task to look as though I was familiar with the place as I followed Lily and Sirius into one of the towers, up the narrow wooden steps, and then back out into the cold air.
I pulled my red scarf up over my ears to keep them warm and huddled as close to Dorcas as I could.
Up close, the pitch seemed massive. Despite seeing the outside of the stadium on a regular basis, I hadn't quite comprehended the expanse of green grass and the golden posts that stretched even higher than the stands. The large golden rings on top of each post, glittering in a morning sun.
Four towers divided the stands into equal parts, with each segment bearing colors of a different house. From what I'd gathered, the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students generally didn't care where they watched the matches from, while the Gryffindor and Slytherins refused to enter in one another's sections on principle.
We stood in the red and gold cheering section today, surrounded by other Gryffindor students. I recognized some of them from classes and returned their greetings with chattering teeth. Lily, Mary, and Remus talked animatedly with some of their younger housemates, while Sirius and Jenn, from what I could tell, were having some abstract conversation about the laws of Transfiguration. Both Dorcas and I exchanged looks of disgust. Some people just naturally understood complex magic, it seemed.
Peering around the preoccupied Lily, I noticed Peter looking through a very large, complicated pair of binoculars.
"Excited for the match, Peter?" I tugged my scarf down from my mouth as I spoke. The stands had filled with students now, and the air had warmed up somewhat.
Peter looked up at me, the binoculars still pressed against his eyes. He grinned and said, "Of course! James was pacing the dorm room all last night. You should've seen it!"
I shook my head. "Are you kidding? I had to listen to his fretting all week. He'd make me dizzy with all that walking in circles."
Peter laughed as he lowered the binoculars. Then, he glanced in the direction of the pitch with what might have been a longing look. "James always worries beforehand, but he does well during the matches."
"It's good to see James anxious," I said. "It reminds me that he's human like the rest of us."
"You're right," said Peter with a wicked grin. "James should feel uncomfortable every now and again. To keep his over-inflated head in check."
"Don't worry. I think Lily can keep his head down to size."
We both glanced at Lily, who at that moment was scolding a younger student for bringing a Fanged Frisbee to the Quidditch match. Dressed all in red, strands of her auburn hair fluttering in the wind, she looked fearsome indeed.
"Can I borrow those binoculars for a minute?" I asked.
"They're quadoculars," said Peter proudly. "Want to see?"
He held out the pair of brass binoculars, and I saw that little knobs covered the metal sides. Vaguely, I remembered Harry Potter buying something called omnioculars in the fourth book. Perhaps this was an early version.
I held the quadoculars up to my eyes, and immediately my vision was filled with a sea of green. Peter reached over and twisted one of the knobs. The image sprung back, giving me a much wider view of the pitch. I lifted my finger to the knob Peter had used and zoomed the lens in on the cluster of students in the far cheering section.
"You can speed up and slow down time," said Peter eagerly. "Of course, it does come with the side effect of splitting headaches if you use them for too long. Some wizards reported having time distortion after using them during a Quidditch match that lasted a whole day!"
Some of the students in the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw sections wore red, but most had opted for their own house colors. I noticed a few fans wearing green and silver, but most of Slytherin house remained in their own cheering section.
"They're really nice," I told Peter. "I can see so clearly."
"My ma got them for me for me this summer. For my birthday. I didn't expect her to remember I wanted them."
"It was a good birthday present."
I spotted Snape standing between Dovetail and Proudfoot. While chatting with Proudfoot, Snape wore what seemed to be a sulky expression on his pale face. As I moved my vision along the stands, I saw that Dovetail had her back turned towards Snape and seemed absorbed in her conversation with Rosier.
My eyes narrowed behind the quadoculars. In my imagination, Rosier and Dovetail weren't capable of holding a conversation that didn't involve scheming. Logically, I knew they had known each other since childhood and had even dated for a time, so they had to have other interests in common. Still, I could only see them as being up to no good.
"Up first, Gryffindor!" A female voice rang through the stands, magnified by what seemed to be magic. "Potter, Kelly, Cooke, McLaughlin, Scrimgeour, Prewett, and Prewett!"
"Here they come!" cried Lily.
The quadoculars were still zoomed in one the green and silver flags of the stands. I wrenched my face away from lenses in time to see seven figures in scarlet robes race through the air.
"There's James!" Lily pointed wildly at a dark-haired figure on the pitch.
I squinted, unable to make one person out from the other, as I handed the quadoculars back to Peter. I thought I spotted two red-heads amongst the players, and the name Scrimgeour sounded familiar, though I couldn't place it right then. Most of the Gryffindor players were strangers to me, and I had little knowledge beyond the few times James had mentioned them in conversation.
"And here comes the Slytherin team!" The announcer sat in one of the high boxes, dressed in a very neutral black. "Talkalot, Avery, Flint, Hatch, Auburn, Greengrass, and Black!"
I watched the black-haired Regulus race out from the doorway at the bottom of the pitch. As the Seeker, he was last in the lineup as the Sytherin team flew in a circle around the pitch. I noticed Avery's hulking figure trailing behind Talkalot and Flint's small frames. It was a little odd that I recognized more of the Slytherin team than the Gryffindor one, but I supposed that came from listening to Helena's reports on a regular basis.
The two teams, blurs of red and green to me, got into position to start the match. Lily and Peter leaned forward, peering down at the grass below. I followed suit and saw that Madam Hooch, in her black referee robes, stood over a large, brown chest. She gave it a sharp kick, the lid leapt open, and out flew three balls: the two dark Bludgers and the flickering golden Snitch. Then, Madam Hooch threw the bright red Quaffle into the air, and the game began.
Red and green figures zipped about. I assumed one of the Gryffindor Chasers was James, but both Kelly and Cooke had their dark hair tied back, so it was hard to tell one Chaser from the other.
Lily seemed to have no problem, however. She gasped and grabbed hold of my shoulder whenever James did something dangerous—which was often, apparently.
"Our Chasers and Slytherin's are evenly matched," said Peter, the quadoculars still pressed against his eyes. His left thumb was in constant motion as he adjusted the lenses for what I assumed was optimal Quidditch viewing.
I would've thought that after reading books about Quidditch and discussing it at length with James, I'd develop some sort of appreciation for the sport.
But no. Quidditch still held zero interest for me.
To be honest, I'd always had little care for sports. In my previous life, my ex-boyfriend had loved football and had followed the SFL religiously. He'd even played on a local team for fun on weekends. I could still remember the chilly mornings where, bleary eyed and aching head, I stood on the sidelines of the football field. I'd tried to look enthusiastic like the other spectators, but I couldn't muster up the energy unless I spiked my coffee with a shot of whiskey. But it made my ex happy, so I'd gone to his matches without fail.
It seemed foolish in hindsight, the desperate things I did to keep him. In the end, it hadn't mattered. His eyes had never stopped wandering, and I'd been the one left alone and hurting.
I smiled at the bitter memory just as James scored another goal.
"Did you see that?" cried Lily. "We took the lead!"
I glanced up at the tower where the scoreboard was kept. In metallic, golden letters I could see the score: 120-130.
How much of the game had I missed while lost in my memories?
Jenn apparently cared about Quidditch just as much as I did, because mid-way through the match, she made some excuse about forgetting her sketchbook in the Great Hall and slipped away. Most likely, she didn't forget squat and went to draw bowtruckles.
Regulus Black seemed bored as he hovered above the rest of the game. One of the Gryffindor Beaters sent a Bludger his way for good measure, but Black dodged it with an appearance of nonchalance.
My gaze drifted over to the Slytherin stands. Snape stared up at the match, his mouth twisted into a scowl—perhaps because James had just scored another goal. I tried to find Rosier's arrogant face amongst the crowd, though it was hard to make out details without the quadoculars. I spotted him still standing next to Dovetail, though her attention was on the Quidditch match rather than him. Well, her current boyfriend was on the team.
"Black is diving!" shouted the announcer, her voice rising with her excitement. "So is Prewett! They've spotted the Snitch!"
I looked away from the Slytherin stands to see two figures, one green and one red, plummeting towards the ground.
Lily let out a screech, and her hands flew up to her hair. "No! The scores are too close!"
"Regulus has the lead," said Sirius grimly. He stood on the other side of Peter, his expression stony as if he wasn't talking about his younger brother. "Gideon can't catch him."
The two Seekers veered to the right, racing parallel to the ground now. I couldn't see the Snitch, but I figured it must be there if they were chasing so determinedly.
"Come on, Gideon!" shouted Peter.
"Gideon," I repeated the name. My gaze slid over from the red-headed Seeker to the red-headed Keeper. Gideon Prewett and Fabian Prewett. Of course. They were Molly Weasley's brothers. Twins who had been members of the Order of the Phoenix. They'd died fighting, outnumbered by Death Eaters, if I remembered correctly.
Gideon Prewett rammed his shoulder into the tail end of Regulus's broom. The broom tilted to the side, and Regulus ducked his head as he struggled to maintain control. That was all the opening Gideon needed to catch up. They dove downward, arms outstretched towards the tiny glimmer of gold that hovered above the grass. A grasping of hands— And they both pulled up and flew off in opposite directions.
"Who got it?" asked Lily.
Both she and Sirius glanced at Peter, who had zoomed in with his quadoculars.
"Gideon!" Peter voice squeaked with excitement. "I can see the wings!"
A second after Peter said that, Gideon held his fist high in the air. The announcer's voice boomed through stadium: "Prewett has caught the Snitch! One-hundred-and-fifty points to Gryffindor! Gryffindor wins the first match of the season with three-hundred-points to one-hundred-and-forty!"
A thunderous roar sounded from all around me. A board grin spread across Sirius's face, while Peter jumped out and down with excitement. Remus laughed as his fellow Gryffindors stomped their feet and shouted. Dorcas and Mary shared gleeful smiles, and Lily threw her arms around my shoulders in a tight hug.
I glanced across the pitch to see the slump in Regulus Black's shoulders as he descended onto the grass. Fabian Prewett had flown over to congratulate his twin brother, and James came hurtling towards them like rocket, almost knocking them off their brooms with his bear-like hug.
It was then, in the middle of the celebration, that Dumbledore's voice boomed over the Quidditch pitch. His voice had been magically magnified, taking on an overwhelming, commanding tone as it spread through the stadium.
"Attention. All students are to return to the dormitories immediately."
With each word, a hush fell over the stands. The cheers stopped, and the smiles fell from the students' faces. No one uttered a word as Dumbledore continued his announcement.
"All students must return to the dormitories immediately. Remain on the main path and proceed in an orderly fashion back to the castle. All students are expected to return to their respective common rooms without delay. Prefects will take roll upon the hour and report to their Head of House. All students should remain in their dormitories until further notice."
Dumbledore stood in the tower on the opposite side of the pitch, holding a wand to his throat. I couldn't see his expression, but his shoulders were stiff. Most of the teachers had already left the stands, and only the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Shafiq, remained.
"What happened?" asked Lily. She hadn't let go of my shoulders, but her grip had tightened with fear.
"Why do we have to return to our dorms?" asked Mary.
"I'm sure we'll find out soon enough," said Remus. He had taken on a serious expression as he look over the crowd of Gryffindor students. "We should follow Dumbledore's instructions."
"You're right," said Lily, releasing me from her embrace. She drew herself to her full height and said, "All students proceed back to the castle without delay. No pushing or shoving!"
Lily went to the doorway that led to the stairwell and started directing students to the stairs. Remus quickly followed suit, moving to the doorway on the opposite side. Lily's words seemed to work, and the students began moving out of the stands. Our group was the last to leave, making sure that the Gryffindor cheering section was empty before making our way, along with Lily and Remus, down to the main path.
Students poured out of the stands, all congregating in a long line that led from the Quidditch stadium back to Hogwarts castle. I could see professors standing along the path, their faces shadowed and their eyes constantly scanning the surrounding area. I listed off the professors in my head as we walked by them: Sprout, Roswell, Vablatsky, Entwhistle, Kettleburn… Dumbledore and Shafiq were probably still at the Quidditch stadium, making certain all the students had left. Binns was a ghost and never left the castle. Which meant only McGonagall, Slughorn, and Chen were unaccounted for. The three Heads of Houses. Perhaps they were all in the dormitories, waiting to take roll of the students.
Lily and Remus kept their heads high so that they could keep an eye on any unruly students who weren't following directions. Peter had gone as pale as a ghost as he listened to Sirius speculating if the Slytherins had hurt another student. Mary kept fidgeting, twisting her fingers together, as she said comforting words to Dorcas.
All around us, conversation buzzed. The same questions were asked over and over again: Had something happened? What was going on? Was someone hurt? Why would they send us back to the dorms? Were we in danger? Had the Death Eaters attacked?
"In the sky! I saw the Dark Mark!" cried one Hufflepuff boy who walked some few meters in front of us. His voice carried over the heads of the students.
Lily frowned. "He shouldn't spread rumors."
"On the south side of the grounds," continued the boy, unaware that he'd caught the attention of the Head Girl. "In the middle of the Quidditch match, I saw a ghostly skull with a hideous snake crawling out of its mouth."
"Where is it now?" sneered an older student. He waved a hand in the direction of the south side of the grounds. "Dark Marks don't just disappear."
"I-I-I don't know," stammered the Hufflepuff boy. "But it was there."
"Dumbledore probably vanished it," said a small, Gryffindor girl. She walked behind me and kept her head down as she whispered to her friend. "I saw him leave mid-way through the match."
"Can you vanish a Dark Mark?" asked the girl's friend.
"Dumbledore probably can."
"There's no need to spread rumors," said Lily, her voice loud and commanding. She didn't focus on anyone in particular, but let her words carry over the crowd, momentarily pausing the frantic conversation. "We will learn what happened in time. Right now, we should focus on everyone returning to the dormitories safely."
"There's not much use in trying to stop it," said Sirius, once Lily had finished. "People love to talk."
"They'll only work themselves into frenzy," said Lily. "Then, there'll be no calming them down.
As we entered the castle, I spotted Rosier and the other seventh year Slytherins standing to the side. As I watched, I realized that they were escorting their younger housemates to the Slytherin Dungeons as the students entered the castle. I scanned the faces of Dovetail, Goyle, and Proudfoot, expecting to see glee or malice in their expressions, but they only looked wary.
Proudfoot glanced over at Rosier and asked him something, but Rosier seemed to barely hear his housemate. Instead, his dark eyes scanned the faces of the incoming students.
What was Rosier looking for? His brows were furrowed, and his jaw was tense. That was how he looked whenever he tried to read my expression… Was Rosier searching for guilt on the faces of the incoming students?
Suddenly, Rosier's gaze snapped to mine. My shoulders stiffened slightly, but I kept my expression neutral. There was a good amount of distance as well as a crowd of students between Rosier and me. My friends wouldn't know who I was looking at.
Ever so slightly, Rosier shook his head.
I jerked my head slightly to the side. I probably didn't need to gesture; Rosier could read the confusion in my expression.
If neither of us was responsible, then who was? And what had they done exactly? Had the Hufflepuff boy been telling the truth? Had someone really cast the Dark Mark over the south side of the grounds? If so, then what had the professors found beneath the mark?
Dorcas and I parted ways with the rest of our friend group, and we led several of our younger housemates back to the common room. By the time we entered the cozy Hufflepuff Basement, the room was already packed to the brim with students. The tables, chairs, and sofas were all occupied by wide-eyed, nervous students.
Dorcas was too distracted to even think about finding a seat, so I led her across the common room to a long, yellow sofa where some of the other seventh year Hufflepuffs sat. Davey Gudgeon scooted over to make room for me, but I let Dorcas take the spot instead.
She remained seated for a whole thirty seconds before getting to her feet again, saying, "I didn't see Jenn when we walked in. Did I miss her? Are you sure she isn't here? She's here, right? She has to be."
I peered over the students' heads, taking advantage of my height, but I couldn't spot Jenn's white-blonde hair anywhere. I glanced down at Dorcas's panicked expression and said, as gently as I could, "She wasn't at the Quidditch stadium when they gave the announcement, so she may not have heard that she needs to return to our dormitory yet."
"They mentioned the Dark Mark," whispered Dorcas. "On the south side of the grounds. It'd be near the Forbidden Forest. What if Jenn went to sketch the bowtruckles?"
Davey Gudgeon glanced at her and then up at me before saying, kindly, "The Dark Mark rumors are just rumors. We don't know what happened yet."
I sent Davey a grateful smile.
We managed to get Dorcas to sit down again. Jon Dawlish and Basil Smith had enough common sense not to start speculating about murder with Dorcas looking as though she might pass out from nerves at any minute. Instead, they discussed the Quidditch match, though their words rang hollow.
I didn't even pretend to join the conversation, instead scanning the common room for any sign of a tall boy with auburn hair and broad face. He should have been easy to spot, but somehow, I couldn't find Hartley.
My throat tightened. He had to be here. The books hadn't said anything about Marlene's brother dying at Hogwarts. Of course, the books hadn't said much of anything about Marlene and her family. But surely something as important as that wouldn't be glossed over. Right?
Greta Catchlove and Charlton Macmillan, our two seventh year prefects, ran about the common room, trying to keep track of everyone. The fifth- and sixth- year prefects scurried in and out of the dorm rooms, making sure that no one hand wandered off without checking in.
"Still missing students?" asked Basil when Charlton walked by our corner of the common room.
Dorcas stared up at Charlton with desperate eyes.
"We're still missing a few," said Charlton. His brown eyes were shadowed with worry. "We need to report to Professor Sprout soon."
As Charlton walked away, I heard someone call out my name. "Marlene!"
I twisted around and saw a tall, auburn-haired boy making his way towards me. Hartley's expression was filled with relief as he said, "I didn't see you in the corner."
Relief filled my chest. Before I could even think about what I was doing, I stepped forward and pulled Hartley into a hug. "You're here."
"You too," said Hartley.
I could feel the tension drain from his shoulders, and only when we both seemed calm, did I let go of him.
It was all right. Everything was all right. Hartley was here. He was alive. I hadn't broken my promise to the real Marlene.
"I heard Professor Shafiq mention the Forbidden Forest," a fourth year was saying in a high-pitched voice.
"The Forbidden Forest?" asked one girl. "Didn't someone see the Dark Mark over the south side of the grounds?"
"Over the headless wizard statue," added someone else.
I glanced down at Dorcas. She might have well have been a statue herself for all the life she showed. I wished she didn't have to hear these rumors. All these stories would make their way into her head and have her imaging all sorts of things. I could feel the panic radiating from her each time someone mentioned the Forbidden Forest.
"Is she aye right?" asked Hartley when he noticed Dorcas's stony expression.
"She's worried," I said. I chose my words carefully, wondering if other people might find Dorcas's reaction unusually strong. "Our friend, Jenn, hasn't reported in yet."
Professor Sprout arrived not long after that. Greta and Charlton were soon deep in conversation with her. Professor Sprout looked over the list of names and then out at the common room. Her usually cheerful face was grave.
"Marlene!" Greta called out my name as she made her way across the common room. Her brows were furrowed, and her lips pursed in concern.
"Is everyone here?" I asked.
Greta shook her head and said, "Jenn's the only one missing."
Dorcas's head jerked up, and her lips moved soundlessly over her words.
"Have any of you seen her?" asked Greta.
I glanced at Dorcas before answering on her behalf. "The last we saw Jenn was in the Quidditch stands during the match. Midway through, she said she left her sketchbook in the Great Hall and she left to get it."
Panic flashed across Greta's face, but she managed to quickly get her expression under control. She nodded once and said, "I'll speak to Professor Sprout."
As Greta walked away, Dorcas started speaking a low voice. "You don't think… Professor Shafiq mentioned the Forbidden Forest, and then the Dark Mark in the sky. What if Jenn wandered down there? You know how she likes the bowtruckles. What if—"
"Don't panic," I said quickly. "We don't know what's happened yet. The Forbidden Forest and the Dark Mark are all rumors."
"But Jenn…"
"Will be upset if she knows you've worried yourself into such a state over her."
There wasn't much I could say to calm Dorcas. She grabbed hold of my hand, but beyond a mumbled, "thank you," she remained silent.
I watched Professor Sprout leave after giving instructions to Greta and Charlton. She hadn't shared any news about what had happened, so as the hours passed, the rumors were growing wildly out of control. Some people had started claiming werewolves from the Forbidden Forest were attacking, while other people thought an army of Death Eaters had begun their assault on Hogwarts. One second year even speculated that Voldemort himself had rigged the Quidditch match.
One hour turned into two and then into three. Greta and Charlton gave us permission to return to our respective rooms. Dorcas and I sat alone in the seventh-year girls' dorm, on opposite sides of the room. Dorcas kept her head down, her gaze fixed on the floor. I didn't know what words could comfort her, so I remained silent as well.
It was sometime in the late afternoon when the door swung open to reveal a thin girl with silvery-blonde hair.
"Jenn!" I said, getting to my feet. "Are you aye right?"
All the color had drained from Jenn's face. She didn't even seem to hear my words. Instead, her blue eyes scanned the room until they came to rest on Dorcas. The two stared at one another, an unspoken emotion filling the air between them.
I felt distinctly like an outsider, peering into something private.
"Dory." Jenn's voice came out as little more than a whisper.
Snapping out her trace, Dorcas raced across the room and grabbed Jenn by the hands. "Jenn, what happened? Where were you? You weren't near the Forbidden Forest again, were you?"
"Dory." Jenn gripped Dorcas's hands so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
"What's wrong?" asked Dorcas. "Did something happen? Did someone hurt you?"
Guided by Dorcas, Jenn managed to sit down on the end of her bed. She seemed disconnected from the world around her, and her gaze remained out of focus. She stared down at the dark hands held in her pale ones, as if drawing strength from that connection.
Then, in a faint, fragile voice, Jenn said, "Christine Loughty is dead."
I had never met Christine Loughty. I couldn't even have picked her out of a crowd. In fact, I'd bet most Hogwarts students had never heard of her.
Until she died, of course.
By the end of that dreadful Saturday, every student at Hogwarts knew of Christine Loughty: third year, Ravenclaw, quiet but friendly, member of the gobstones club, muggleborn.
I supposed I must have been one of the first students to know that she'd died. That afternoon, in the quiet of our dorm room, Jenn recounted what had happened as best she could:
"I went to Great Hall to get my sketchbook. I was on my way back to the stadium, but then, I saw the Forbidden Forest, and I thought that it'd be nice to see the bowtruckles." Jenn's eyes were already red. "I'd only just said hello to them when the bowtruckles screeched and fled back into their trees. I didn't know what had upset them, but when I looked back…" Her voice faltered. "The Dark Mark was in the sky."
Dorcas and I exchanged glances, but neither of us interrupted. I wasn't sure Jenn could keep going if she stopped for even a moment.
"It was horrible." That was all Jenn had to say about the Dark Mark. Those three simple words. "Then, I saw a figure walking towards me. She came from the south side of the grounds, from where the Dark Mark loomed overhead. She was small, dark-haired, and dressed in muggle clothing. She wore a pink jumper."
For some reason, that particular piece of information seemed important to Jenn. I didn't ask why, only nodded my head as if it was only natural that we should know what color Christine Loughty's jumper was.
"I didn't know her," Jenn had said. "But she looked familiar. I called out to her, told her to be careful, there was a Dark Mark in the sky. But she didn't hear me. She looked…odd. She walked sideways, her hands to her throat. I—" Jenn stared down at where she held Dorcas's hand in hers. She tried to say what happened next, but her words failed her. She only managed on the third try: "The girl strangled herself."
"What?" I couldn't stop the word from slipping out.
Tears welled in the corners of Jenn's eyes. "I didn't know what to do. I should have stopped her. I should have— But she collapsed before I could move. And then, and then…I ran into the Forbidden Forest." Jenn stared down at the floor. "I should have stayed with her. I should have helped. But the Dark Mark…"
"It's all right," said Dorcas gently. "There was nothing you could have done. You're safe. That's what matters."
A couple hours later, Professors Kettleburn and Chen had found Jenn in the Forbidden Forest. She'd recounted everything she'd seen to Dumbledore, spoken at length with Sprout, received care from Madam Pomfrey, and only when she asked to be allowed to see her friends, did Professor Sprout escort her back to the Hufflepuff Basement.
Jenn cried herself to sleep in Dorcas's arms. I hadn't wanted to return to the common room, worried that I might face an onslaught of questions from other students, so I'd sat in my bed, doing my readings for Transfiguration class. Dorcas remained beside Jenn, ready to comfort her if the nightmares came.
Greta returned late into the night with shadows under her eyes. She paused long enough to ask how Jenn was doing before collapsing into her frilly, pink bed. When I awoke the next morning, Greta had already left.
We were allowed out of our dormitories on Sunday only to go to the Great Hall for meals. The prefects and professors kept us under surveillance, ensuring that no rebellious students wandered off. I went down to breakfast alone, since Jenn wasn't feeling up to eating yet, and Dorcas didn't want to leave her by herself. Mary waved me over the Gryffindor table, and I found only her, Sirius, and Peter sitting together.
"The others are on duty," explained Sirius as I took the empty seat beside him.
"James and Remus barely slept last night," added Peter.
"Lily too. She didn't get in until past midnight." Mary glanced at me. "Are they saying the same thing in the Hufflepuff common room? About Christine Loughty?"
Poor Christine Loughty went from being an unknown third year to the most talked about student in Hogwarts. Her name could be heard all throughout the Great Hall that morning. Sometimes in whispers, sometimes in loud, unrestrained voices. To think, she only had to die to be this famous.
I wondered if people talked about me like that after I died. Had people who barely spoke to me, or people who only knew me by sight, suddenly started acting as if we were old friends? Unlike Loughty, they probably didn't have nice things to say about me.
I shoved my scrambled eggs around my plate with a fork as I listened to my friends' conversation. There was even more to the story than what I'd heard from Jenn: A couple of the professors had noticed the Dark Mark during the Quidditch match; the stands in the tower must have given them a better view. Professors Shafiq and Chen had gone to investigate, and they'd found Christine Loughty's body beneath the Mark. Her wand had been discarded near the headless wizard statue, and dark bruises had covered her neck.
"I heard one third year speculating that a muggle did it," said Sirius dryly. "Never mind that a muggle wouldn't be able to cast the Dark Mark."
"How could a muggle even enter Hogwarts grounds?" asked Mary. "Aren't there warding spells that turn muggles around if they wander too close?"
"Those spells only work on the unaware," said Sirius. "A muggle who knows about Hogwarts would be unaffected."
"Some muggles are naturally immune," I added. I'd read about such warding spells in the fifth year Charms textbook just last week. "But a muggle wandering into Hogwarts grounds and murdering a student wouldn't explain how the Dark Mark ended up in the sky."
"Maybe one of the Slytherins came across her body and thought it would give everyone a right scare if they cast the Dark Mark in the sky," suggested Mary.
Both Sirius and I frowned at that, and Sirius said, "That seems like too many coincidences."
"I don't think it was a muggle," I said. "A wizard can kill using muggle methods." I glanced around the Gryffindor table, making sure that no other students were listening in, and then I said, "I heard that Christine Loughty strangled herself to death."
"What?" Peter's voice was slightly too loud, and people glanced in our direction, curiosity burning in their stares. Peter hunched his shoulders and said in a whisper, "Sorry."
"She strangled herself?" asked Mary.
"You think she was under the Imperius Curse?" asked Sirius.
I blinked. The Imperius Curse. Such an obvious answer, yet it hadn't occurred to me. If Christine Loughty had tried to strangle herself with her own two hands, she should have passed out from lack of air and lost her grip before doing any real damage. But what if she had been under the Imperius Curse? Was it possible for the curse to override the mind and body's natural inclinations?
"But who would put Christine Loughty under the Imperius Curse and order her to kill herself?" I asked the question aloud without meaning to.
"Is it that difficult to guess?" asked Mary with a slight sneer. "It's not like they haven't tried to cast the Imperius Curse on other students before."
I glanced in the direction of the Slytherin table. Christine Loughty had died on the south side of Hogwarts grounds, near the statue of the headless wizard. Wasn't that where Snape usually experimented with his spells? If my suspicions were correct, he was working on something for Dovetail and Avery there. Had Loughty stumbled on a secret that she needed to die for?
But Snape had been at the Quidditch match. I'd seen him standing beside Dovetail and Proudfoot. If Loughty had stumbled on something during the match, then Snape wouldn't have known.
Whoever murdered Loughty had planned in advance. Having her die where Snape created his spells seemed like a sloppy decision if he, Dovetail, and Avery were behind this. I didn't consider them geniuses by any means, but I did think they were smart enough to avoid such a simple blunder.
And, of course, the image of Rosier's face as he scanned the incoming crowd of students stuck in my mind. Surely Rosier would have noticed if one of his fellow classmates was the culprit. Though, perhaps I was putting too much faith in Rosier,
"I don't think it was the Slytherins," I said.
Mary sent me an incredulous stare. "I know you don't like to think the worst of people, but who else would murder a muggleborn student?"
I didn't have a good answer, but I didn't think the culprit was as straight-forward as Mary made it seem.
They must have a rat in Hogwarts if they knew what day the Hogsmeade visit would take place.
The words rang in my head, bringing back the memory of a cramped broom cupboard. Rosier had spoken in his usual perfect, posh accent even as we discussed the horrors of the attack on Hogsmeade. His expression had been cold, but there'd been a hint of sorrow in his tone as he speculated that Voldemort had a spy in Hogwarts.
Over the next couple days, I listened carefully to the rumors spreading about the school. The most popular theory was that Death Eaters had infiltrated Hogwarts grounds and killed an unwary student to cause panic. However, a number of students had come to the same conclusion as Mary: a muggleborn had been murdered and the Dark Mark sent into the sky, so the Slytherins must be responsible.
Helena didn't have much to add either, once I'd recounted all I knew to her. She'd been following Snape that day, and he hadn't done anything to make her suspicious. He and the rest of his friends had been confused when Dumbledore first made the announcement, and they'd been shocked to hear about Christine Loughty's death.
"Dovetail had some comments that I would rather not repeat," said Helena grimly. "But I do not think any one of them is the guilty party either." She paused and then added, "Your friend also does not seem to know. He asks a lot of questions, but no one has answers for him."
When I met Rosier in Divination class that Tuesday, we didn't exchange a sinlge word about Christine Loughty. We greeted each other perfunctorily, pretending to be little more than acquaintances, and continued on with the lesson. We had finished our unit on the tarot deck and had moved onto the much more difficult practice of scrying. Rosier and I spent the lesson peering into shallow bowls of water in an attempt to see visions in the reflections.
After class had ended, Rosier hurried out of the room in such a rush that he bumped into me. He threw a smug glance in my direction as he said, "Sorry, Marlene," and then he disappeared down the staircase.
It wasn't until I entered the Room of Requirement later that day and reached into my pocket to use my wand that I noticed the delicately painted tarot card that had been slipped into my robes' pocket.
I stared down at the tarot card in my hand. In bold colors of blues and reds, a woman had been painted sitting on throne. In her left hand, she held a set of scales and in her right, a double-edged sword.
The words from my Divination textbook rang clear in my mind: If the querent has been wronged, the card may hint at relief to their suffering. If the querent has wronged others, this card serves as a warning.
Rosier had given me the Justice card.
In pale ink that seemed to shimmer and disappear before my eyes, he had written a single word: Wednesday.
A/N: This chapter ended up way longer than I intended it. I probably should have broken it up into two parts, but it's really meant to be read as one.
So, what do you think? Who's the culprit? What does Rosier want?
Please leave a review!