September 1st, 1975
Lily smiled as she watched another first year approach the high stool in front of the Great Hall. He looked out at them all, face bright red. The hat drooped over his ears, nearly obscuring his eyes. Her heart twinged. She could still retrace her steps up to that seat, with hundreds of other students watching her, most of them much older. She was the first and only of her family to go to Hogwarts – there had been no stories of floating candles and a starry ceiling passed down for generations. Little Lily had to find out on her own. Between Professor McGonagall's speech, and the murmurs when a 'Black, Sirius', had become the first Gryffindor, it had quickly been impressed upon her just how important your house was. The tiny boy on the stool became a Hufflepuff, and Lily joined in the clapping, as she did for every new student, even the Slytherins, which was what the next little girl became. Marlene made a face at her.
"Why cheer?" Marlene asked. "She's probably some pureblood brat."
"She's eleven, Marl," Lily said softly, taking extra care to give the tiny blonde an encouraging smile. "They don't sort people based on blood status."
"They do if it's Slytherin," Marlene snorted.
"Need I remind you, she's eleven," Lily replied. "Nobody's whole life is decided at eleven, Marl."
"She's right, but," Mary piped up, chewing her lip. Her fingers were caught in curled strands of her blonde hair. "There isn't a single good person in Slytherin."
"That's a gross generalisation," Lily said. "Stereotyping makes us no better than them. Sev's in Slytherin."
"Snape is your shining example?" Marlene asked, wrinkling her nose. "I don't reckon you'd think so highly of him if you hadn't know him since day dot."
"I like to think I can see the good in anyone," Lily said, jutting her chin out. Marlene and Mary sounded as if they'd read one too many fairy tales.
"Tell me what's good about Wilkes, then. He's a prefect and he's horrible. He's one of them," Mary said, eyes wide. "He thinks all us muggleborns are scum."
"Yes, he's rude, but that hardly makes him a Death Eater, Mary, or Potter'd be joined up in a heartbeat. I don't deny that some Slytherins do bad things, but to say every Slytherin is evil is like saying every Gryffindor pulls pranks. It's ridiculous." Lily stared both of them down. The school year had barely started, and they were already getting their knickers in a knot about the Slytherins. Marlene rested her cheek in one hand, and Mary began fiddling with a pink ribbon in her hair.
"I'm starving," Marlene groaned, picking up a fork and twisting it between her fingers. "Where's the food?"
"We're only up to Lockhart," Lily retorted. "Halfway through the alphabet."
"Gilderoy." Marlene rolled her eyes. "Poor kid. Couldn't they have called him 'Roy' and been done with it?"
"I like the name," Mary chipped in, blushing. "It's old fashioned."
"Course you do, Mary. But some of us have taste. If I have kids, I'm calling them something cool. Like Lennon, or Butterfly."
"Butterfly?" Lily nearly choked. "Marl, with all due respect, you cannot call your child 'Butterfly'. I'd prefer Gilderoy."
"Did somebody say James Potter?" James leaned over the table, slamming his elbows into the wood, eyes nearly popping out through his glasses. His hair was a mess, his tie loose, his collar standing up. Lily narrowed her eyes at him. Two minutes into term, and he'd found a way to look like he'd fought a bear.
"Potter. Haven't you got candy to be stealing?" she asked. "Nobody said your name."
"I heard a strange name," he insisted. "So you had to be talking about me." Sirius wrinkled his nose, cocking his head to one side.
"Mate, your name is James. It's hardly weird," Sirius said, shaking his head. Lily smiled slightly. 'James' was certainly nothing when compared to names like 'Sirius' and 'Gilderoy'.
"We're talking about some of the bogus names people give their kids," Marlene cut in. "Like fucking Gilderoy."
"I thought I had a shitty name," Black laughed. "Gilderoy. Fuck. Sounds like something from St. Mungo's."
"Probably a vaginal disease," Peter added, cheeks red. The conversation paused for a moment, everyone's eyes falling on him.
"Uh, what the fuck, Peter?" Marlene asked.
"Oi! Don't talk to my mate like that," Sirius said, before turning to Peter. "What the fuck, Peter?"
"I like my name," Remus shrugged. "It's not plain, like James or Peter - no offence, your names are nice - and it's not downright strange, like Ludovic."
"I think my dad had to give me a normal name," Potter said. "He's called Fleamont. But that's my middle name."
"Have none of you wizarding lot considered using more muggle names?" Lily frowned. "Ludovic. Gilderoy. Fleamont. They're okay, but what's wrong with Nick or Harry or Scott or Christopher?"
"Be fair, Lily," Marlene said. "Can you imagine it? 'Wassup, I'm Scott, I do magic. Wanna see my wand, baby?' No wizard can be called Scott. He'd be a burnout at best. "
"She has a point," Potter agreed. "We can't go calling ourselves Josh or Shane."
"Hey! I have a cousin called Shane." Dale was the other boy in the dorm that James, Sirius, Remus and Peter shared. You would be forgiven for thinking that he was in his mid-twenties, given the fact that he had refused to shave his facial hair since it came in, preferring detentions, and now had a small amount of fuzz covering his face. His moustache was significantly darker than the rest of his blond hair, and his father was an American, giving him odd turns of phrase. It was unanimously agreed that, if anyone was to reveal the wizarding world to muggles, it would be him. Every house hated him for some reason or another. Slytherin because he saw tradition and took an axe to it, Ravenclaw because he was completely lacking in wit, intellect, or any kind of upstairs activity, Hufflepuff because he would attempt to cheat, lie, and laze about wherever possible, and Gryffindor because he had a habit of hogging the nicest couch by the fire, achieved by refusing to move for several days. He wasn't the sort to care about missing classes. Or about anything, it seemed. Not Quidditch, not pranks, not even fighting or cards or his parents' opinions. The only useful thing he'd ever done had been a complete, weird fluke that none of them could figure out.
"Your name is Dale," Marlene replied. "You're a weirdo."
"Anomaly," Remus corrected mildly.
"Yeah, that."
Dale shrugged, and slid between James and Sirius. God only knew where he had came from, and why he hadn't been there for most of the Sorting Ceremony. "Well, my parents just like, needed a way to tell their girl kids from their boy kids, so I guess they were like, 'let's give our girl kids prissy names, like Elizabeth and Catherine, and give our boy kids names to make 'em the smoothest dude-ests like Keith and Dale'. Seems smart to me."
"Isn't Betty's name actually Betty? Not Elizabeth?" Lily asked, eyebrows darting upwards.
"Well - like, yeah, but they meant to call her Elizabeth. They just said Betty, and like, thought the doctor people would know what they meant. Not their fault they were turkeys. What were they meant to say?"
"I don't know. How about, 'our daughter's name is Elizabeth'?" Lily said.
"Huh?"
"Don't be too hard on him, Lily," Remus said. "Daughter's an awfully big word for him." Peter laughed, whilst Dale shook his head and scrunched up his nose. A few more names were called, and a handful of first years were split into their houses. Lily turned her attention to the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, who approached the lectern. He opened with words of welcome, including 'greetings', and 'salutations'. He then moved on to wishing them a good holiday – all the generic things. It was only in the third part of his speech that Lily's ears really pricked up.
"...As you may know, from the assortment of stories in the newspapers, to no doubt your own very interesting, and highly accurate gossip," he said, "there has been anti-muggle sentiment rising in the greater wizarding community. This extends to those of muggle heritage. I would like to remind you," he continued, "that there is no place for hatred here at Hogwarts. Every student that passes through these halls is one and the same in terms of their amounts of magic. They only differ in their talents, of which we all possess. Bigotry will not be tolerated for as long as I am the Headmaster of this school. I would advise that certain groups of students reflect very carefully on their actions, before their choices are no longer theirs to make. Thank you."
The applause was slow, and scattered. Lily clapped her hands together as quickly and as loudly as she could, long past the point of stinging. The other Gryffindors joined her, for the most part, along with the majority of the other houses. As much as she loathed to admit it, the Slytherin table was the quietest. A couple of first and second years clapped, but by the time it came to the seventh years, there was a stony silence. She turned her head. Marlene was giving her one of those looks. Lily's eyes darted away, back to her plate.
"Now, without further ado, let us eat!" Professor Dumbledore said. With a wave of his hands, the candles on the tables glowed brighter, and food began to pop up on the trays running down the centre. Before Lily could even take stock of what was on offer, Marlene reached her hands in and retrieved half a dozen things at once, assisted greatly by James and Peter.
"Were you raised by wolves?" she asked, shaking her head.
"I was, actually," Remus said dryly. "And even I know better." Sirius snorted into his cup, and Lily exhaled in a half-chuckle, eyebrows darting upwards.
"What?" Mary said. "No you weren't, I saw your parents on the platform." Remus smiled, eyes downcast. Lily rolled her eyes, and turned to Mary.
"It's a pun on his name, Mary. Remus and Romulus were the founders of Rome, and they suckled on a wolf," she explained, eyeing Remus out of the corner of her eye. He shrugged.
One of the best things about Hogwarts was that no matter how much of a guts your classmates were, the house-elves would be working away tirelessly to have more food sent up to you. She suspected that sometimes they knew what would be quick to go. Another bowl of bread rolls appeared quickly, and she grabbed one as James scoffed down a large helping of pasta. "You're going to make yourself sick," she said.
"I'm surprised he hasn't been already," Remus said. "He ate four sandwiches on the train, and far more in the way of licorice wands than any person should have in a lifetime." James opened his mouth to protest, pasta clearly visible.
"Ew," Mary said, shielding her eyes, and Lily screwed up her face. James promptly shut his mouth.
The food was filling, as was to be expected. After twenty or so minutes, Alice Rhysfield stood up. A brand new 'Head Girl' badge was pinned to her chest, shimmering in the bright candlelight. She cleared her throat and rose a finger to her lips, eyes wide, and nose scrunching in Lily's direction. "Guys, shush," she said. "Alice wants to speak, and you know she'll do her nut if we don't shut up." With a lot of poking and prodding, the Gryffindor table fell as close to silent as it was likely to get, given the student makeup.
"I will keep this brief, because I know all of you have the self-restraint of a jack-in-the-box," Alice began. "To our new first years; welcome to Hogwarts, and, more importantly, to Gryffindor. As you may have already seen, we're the loudest table, and probably the most fun, but that doesn't mean we're slackers, okay? Whatever you do, and I am begging, do not, I repeat, do not agree to be part of any of Connor O'Neill's research projects, on pain of expulsion. He doesn't need encouragement!"
"You can't expel us!" one of the younger students said. "Only Professors can!"
"Oh?" Alice said. "Are you sure? Blythe Parkin, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Right. Blythe, do not participate in one of Connor O'Neill's research projects, or you will find out if I can expel you. Anyways," she clasped her hands together. "We have some activities for you up in the common room, and we'll go back there after dessert, which should be soon. Now, I'm going to introduce our house prefects, these are the people you want if you're having trouble with anything. I'm Alice, I'm a seventh year, obviously, and Head Girl," she gestured to her badge. "This is Frank - Frank, stand up - and he's our other seventh year prefect. From the sixth years, we have Laura Vickers, she's one of our chasers, if you give a damn about Quidditch, and Marcus McLaggen - he's open for tutoring! And welcoming our newest prefects, Remus Lupin, who isn't as scary as he looks, and Lily Evans, potioneer extraordinaire. Stand up!" Lily got to her feet, doing all she could to stop her cheeks from blooming bright red. She shot Remus a shaky smile. Finally, Alice gestured that they could sit down. "Now, here's how it goes when we head up. First years with me, second years with Frank, third years with Marcus, fourth years with Laura. Fifth and above, you know the gig, Lily and Remus will be among you, bully them for the password. Enjoy your dessert." Alice sat down, grinning.
Lily glanced around at the other tables, and the other prefects seemed to be finishing up their speeches, too.
"I can't believe they made Alice Head Girl," Marlene said, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.
"Well, it isn't as though anyone listens to poor Nancy Corner," Lily said. "Alice is always very firm. Authoritative."
"She always looks like she's about to go mental, though," Marlene says. "Don't you remember when she was doing her O. ? I thought she was going to kill us!"
"She only threatened that twice," Lily pointed out, barely concealing a smile. "And she wouldn't have if you weren't intent on flicking dungbombs."
"I was experimenting!" Marlene protested, jaw dropped in mock-outrage.
"I agree with Marlene," Mary piped up. "If I were a first year, I'd be too scared to ask Alice for help. I'd go to you, but, Lily."
"Me?" Lily said, giving her a weird look. "It's my first day."
"It's their very first day," Mary said, shrugging. "I'm just saying. That's all."
In a flourish of sparks, their dinner was vanquished and their dessert appeared. Warm, melted chocolate bubbled in small silver cauldrons, with pieces of fruit and bread impaled on small sticks; lemon meringues adorned white plates; a large apple pie took the platter in the centre of the tables, nearby a custard tart pyramid. The cups alternated in filling with hot chocolate and butterbeer; Marlene and Lily swapped, sharing cups in much the same way as they shared hairties, tubes of toothpaste, shoes and sweets.
"I wish Kreacher would do this," Sirius was saying. "His food never tastes as good as this, and it's never this artfully displayed, either. Mother has to do it all herself. She says she doesn't mind, that she's a perfectionist, but Aunt Druella's elf does it and she'd kill to have that one." It was still funny to her, knowing that people went home from Hogwarts and had more of the same, more of this. It felt unfair. She went home and had to catch up on nearly a year's worth of technology, politics, music, and fashion, whereas the purebloods, and even some of the half-bloods, went home and carried on the same.
"Do you think you'd have a house-elf, Sirius?" Lily asked after swallowing a bite of tart. "When you're older?"
He shrugged. "Mother and Father want me to inherit the house, so I'll probably inherit whatever elf we have when they die. I hope it's not bloody Kreacher, though. I'd smother him." Lily laughed slightly in surprise.
"You can't do that, Sirius," Mary said, leaning forwards. "He's just doing his job."
"Yeah, well, I wish it wasn't his job to rattle around my room and spy on me," Sirius said, lips turning downwards. His eyes darkened.
Lily had barely finished her tart when Professor Dumbledore once again came to the lectern, closing the feast, and wishing them goodnight. Alice then stood and ushered groups of children in every direction, with the other prefects standing up.
"That's us," Lily said, scooting over the bench. Remus set down his chocolate pudding with a longing glance, and stood.
"I've always thought we ought to have smaller tables," he said. "If you want to get to the other side, you have to walk the length of the Great Hall or close enough."
"I just duck under," said James. "It works for me."
"Come on," Lily said. "You have to stay with us if you want to know the password."
"I thought we had to bully you," Peter said. "Maybe full-on duel."
"Galleon on Lily," Marlene said.
"Against Remus?" James asked. "He's been training in Defence shit since he was four!"
"What?" Lily asked, her voice turning flat. "I've only had a magical education since I was eleven, so he's set to beat me?" James' eyes widened, and he stood, scrambling. She knew he hadn't intended it that way - he had a habit of blurting out whatever first came to his head - but it didn't hurt to make him sweat and reconsider next time.
"I didn't mean-"
"I meant Peter," Marlene said, "for what it's worth."
"I just - his dad -"
"Are you a Potions expert, James?" she asked, making her face as serious as she could. He ran his fingers through his hair, grimacing.
"No - my dad didn't give me lessons - Lily, I -"
She drew her wand, and pointed it at his neck. James tilted his chin upwards, eyes bulging. It was all she could do to keep her face deadly serious. "I'm messing with you," she said.
He exhaled, and looked at her straight on, blinking. Then he laughed, his mates joining him, and Marlene clapped her on the shoulder. "Come on now, I mean it, or the first years will beat us," she said, catching the fierce eye of Alice Rhysfield.
In hindsight, it didn't seem very fair to leave the two brand new prefects to manage three year levels on their very first day. Maybe it was some sort of rite of passage. It was chaotic. At least most of the first years would listen.
"Yes, everyone has to help set up the games," she told Joey Jenkins as they marched up the stairs. "It's not overly difficult, I'm sure you'll manage."
She and Remus agreed to split up, with Remus rounding up the stragglers; they'd left well before any of the other groups, but with their sluggish pace, Lily worried they wouldn't be able to get everything up in time. Hufflepuff wouldn't have that problem, she thought. Perhaps she should've asked to be in the house of hard workers.
"Initium," Lily said. The Fat Lady raised her glass in a toast.
"Welcome back," she said, and the portrait swung forwards, revealing the hole. Lily turned back to the gaggle of fifth, sixth, and seventh years, and swallowed. She couldn't imagine taking orders from a third year, and she guessed that the seventh years probably felt the same way about her. Alice truly was tormenting her.
"Alright, everybody, come in, the password's 'initium', please remember it. Don't go up to your rooms for a shag yet, we need to set up for the younger kids."
Between her and Remus, they managed to herd at least four-fifths of the older years into the common room, and convinced them to start decorating. Remus amplified the sound of the wireless, and music quickly got them into the swing of things. Lily levitated golden banners and Marlene stood on a chair, tying them to stay upwards. John Brown stuck a large poster to the noticeboard, advertising that no, first years were not allowed to try out, and that the only spots open were for the reserve positions. Connor O'Neill had a new brew that he said was open for anyone to try, from any year, and Lily made a mental note to herd the first, second, and third years away from it. If the fourth years were stupid enough to drink that crap because they weren't deemed old enough to try the real thing, that was on them.
The younger year levels began to arrive, and the addition of three extra years turned things immediately chaotic. Alice was red-faced by the time she arrived with the first years, two of whom looked like they might've burst into tears. Alice climbed up on one of the tables, and Lily saw her tap her wand at her throat.
"Quiet!" Alice shouted, voice magnified. The house obeyed, for the most part, but the music still played. "Alright, welcome, to our new first years, and welcome back to everyone else! If you missed it, the password is 'initium', it changes every month or so, depending on how much the other houses hate us, but remember that for now! First years - this is your new home! This is the common room, where everybody hangs out, if you get a migraine, you can go to your dorms, where your stuff will already be. Boys up the left staircase, girls up the right, don't try to go into each other's rooms, you're eleven. Classes start tomorrow - this goes for everyone - be at breakfast before eight, because the timetables are getting handed out then. If you miss it, you miss it. Ask your friends. If I see anyone under fifth year drinking, I'll report you to McGonagall. If any of you report any of the fifth, sixth, or seventh years for drinking, I take no responsibility for the drinkers, or for what happens to you. Two reminders, now: firstly, Gryffindor does not condone vigilante justice, so make sure it can't be traced back to us, and secondly, do not under any circumstances consume anything Connor O'Neill offers you. Also, don't bully the first years. Happy seventy-five, everyone."
After that, the party quickly delved into wild territory. Marlene and Alisha Chaise, another girl in their year, practically raced each other to line up for small bottles of what looked like lolly drinks with a dash of alcohol mixed in. "Remus Lupin," Lily said, sidling up to him as he waited with his mates in the line, "you can't abandon me tonight."
"I'm not," he promised. "I'm on babysitting duty."
"For the whole house, not just them," Lily reminded him. "You know that just because you can, doesn't mean you should, right?"
"This is going to be way better than Connor's stuff," Peter said. Lily laughed.
"You had Connor's stuff? I'm surprised you didn't end up in the Hospital Wing," she said, folding her arms across her chest.
"No, James just puked for three days," Sirius shrugged, and reached out to pat James' head. James swatted at his hand. "Can't hold his liquor."
"Connor's shit would make anyone sick," James insisted, cheeks light red. Lily gave Remus a look and left them to it.
After an hour or so, as the older students get increasingly drunk, Lily tracked Remus down to a corner in which James, Sirius, and Peter were attempting to play three-person chess, which they had apparently invented about fifteen minutes before. "We need to get the first years to bed," she told him. "This is going to be a shitshow."
September 2nd, 1975
Mary stared at the ceiling, absent-mindedly stroking Berlioz. His soft, dark paws kneaded her pyjamas.
"You're a good boy," she whispered, rubbing a finger against his head. "Waking me up for school. Yes, you are. You're the best boy." Berlioz purred, butting his head against her hand. It was with great difficulty that she slid him off, and he looked up at her with big eyes, giving an inquisitive "mraow?".
"I have to go to class, Berly-whirly," she told him. "I can't miss my first day." She opened the burgundy curtains around her bed, and saw that Lily was fresh out of the shower, hair wet. Mary's face fell slightly. Even after all these years, she'd never really acclimated to the whole getting-changed-in-front-of-other-people scenario. She didn't need to see Lily in a towel to know that she was probably the prettiest of them, all slender with gorgeous red hair and sparkling green eyes. God knew the boys were obvious enough about it.
"Morning, Mary," Lily said. "The shower's free. I think I'll try to find a way to wake them up."
"I still can't believe they had that much," Mary said in a small voice, bending down to open her trunk. "It's illegal."
"It was a stupid decision to make the night before school starts. They'll pay for it today," Lily said, tossing her towel onto her bed. Mary focused on her trunk, pulling out her uniform. It even just looked bigger than Lily's. Mary's looked like a sail, where Lily's could've fit a doll's, in her opinion. Mary hugged the clothes to her chest, and shut her trunk, before delving into the shower.
She dressed in the steam-filled bathroom, ignoring that her socks were damp, and re-emerged into their dormitory. Amy was up, and nearly pushed her out of the way in her haste for a shower. Alisha had pulled the blankets over her head, and Marlene sat cross-legged.
"You can get my timetable for me," Marlene said. "Maybe we even had a spare this morning."
"I doubt that," Lily said, tugging her hand. "Come on, it's your first day. You don't want to miss it."
"Maybe I do," Marlene said, jutting her chin out. "Maybe I'm going to drop out after I do my O. , and go work in a shop."
Mary frowned, and continued brushing her hair. She couldn't imagine her parents letting her do that - they were worried enough that she was doing magical schooling rather than her A-Levels. When she'd first come to Hogwarts, they'd agreed that she could only go if she followed it all the way through. If she wanted to work in a shop or as a hairdresser or at a school, she could do it the usual way, not at a boarding school in Scotland.
Eventually, all of them woke, and they made it down to breakfast only fifteen minutes or so after it had begun. Alisha took to the coffee immediately, while Mary poured herself and Marlene some tea, and helped Lily to coax Marlene into eating some toast.
"I feel like I'm going to be sick," Marlene said, clutching at her stomach. "Has food...always...tasted this awful?"
Professor McGonagall came round with their timetables, and as it turned out, they were not lucky enough to have a free period that morning. They half-dragged Marlene to Charms and hunted down three seats next to each other in the second row. Professor Flitwick checked uniforms for once (start as you mean to go on, Mary thought) and docked a point for each violation, leaving Alisha and Amy to stumble off to wash off their make-up, and James and Peter hurriedly tucking their shirts in and fixing their ties. As Lily had said, much of the hour was spent scribbling down notes for what to expect, and they got a lecture on the importance of their O. and how Charms was a nice, versatile subject that would help them for both university entry and going to work. Mary's head spun. She'd never even really considered what she might've wanted to do in the future; Charms wasn't her best subject, but at least she passed.
After Charms, she and Lily practically carried Marlene to Muggle Studies, dumping her at the door and Lily worded up Remus on adding her to his brood of hungover children to look after.
"Lily Evans," James said, squinting in spite of his glasses. "Angel."
"Potter," she replied, lips pressed together. Mary glanced down at herself. She was more like a cherub than an angel.
They ended up running into Snape, and Lily discussed Charms with him in depth, on account of that being what he had next. Mary leaned against the stone wall and picked at her nails, and then fiddled with the ties in her hair. "Angel," James had said. There was a little stab beneath Mary's heart. The only people who called her pretty were her friends in her dormitory. Even Alisha, for all that she was a bedraggled mess at times, and Amy, who could kill someone with a glance, had gotten whispers from the boys before. Mary had never even kissed someone. She touched her fingers to her lips, which were slightly chapped. Lily kept talking.
"We've got Transfiguration now," Lily said, glancing at her watch. "We should get going. But meet me in the library at five, alright? Have fun in Charms."
"Bye, Lily," Snape said quietly. His eyes landed on Mary, and she bristled slightly, pulling at her jumper.
"Bye," she said, giving him a weak smile, and then hurrying after Lily. She would've sworn she could feel his eyes on her the whole way down the corridor.
Professor McGonagall's O.W.L lecture was worse than Professor Flitwick's, and they were given homework on the very first day. Mary hated theory, and the new equations for the spells they'd be learning almost gave her hives. Marlene made a shabby appearance, half-asleep, while Alisha had turned in for the day after their spare period. All the boys were still going, barring Dale, who hadn't even turned up to breakfast. Mary frowned over her Transfiguration homework for a while, and then they ate lunch. Marlene promptly ran off to the bathrooms to vomit, and her number was up, and Mary found herself agreeing to share her notes because they weren't as 'complicated' as Lily's. Mary's stomach twinged. For all it might've been a compliment, it didn't make her feel very nice.
Ancient Runes was next, and Mary smiled and nodded and dotted her parchment with question marks. Then they had more free time, in which they trudged back up the several flights of stairs to Gryffindor Tower to find Marlene laying on the floor and playing Exploding Snap with Sirius Black, who looked as if he'd sucked on a lemon. A barrage of first years shot questions at Lily, and Mary combed out Marlene's hair.
"What do we have next?" Sirius asked, putting down a hippogriff card.
"Um, Herbology, I think," Mary said. "You're missing Care of Magical Creatures at the moment."
"I'll be alright," Sirius said, leaning back on his elbows. "I've never failed it before."
It was a long walk down the greenhouses, but most of the Hufflepuffs were bright-eyed, and Paul Smith wryly pointed out the Gryffindors' dwindling numbers; for their second-last class of the day, they were down to just Mary, Lily, Remus, and Peter, all working at one bench.
"What happened to James?" Lily asked.
"He threw up in one of the feed containers in Care of Magical Creatures," Peter said.
"It was rainbow," Remus added.
"I'm the only one who's ever heard of moderation, apparently," Peter said, shaking his head.
"You had more than James," Remus said. "James just can't handle himself."
"I saw that," Lily said, grinning down at her plant. Mary was glad that Professor Sprout had started them off with some practical revision; if there'd been another lecture, she might've fallen asleep. She hadn't a drop of alcohol, either.
Defence was with the Hufflepuffs too, and her hand cramped terribly. Then Lily was off to the library and Mary ducked into the bathrooms, locking herself in one of the stalls. She pulled her knees up to her chest and sat on the lids of the loo, listening as others flittered in and out, catching snippets of conversations and complaints. She put one hand on her wrist, and tried to reach around, to touch her fingers. There was a gap of what looked like an inch, or probably five, given how fat she was. She went down to dinner and kept prodding Marlene awake, and didn't touch any of the food herself on account of an unsettled stomach. They were in bed before the first years and she collapsed onto the covers, hardly wanting to bother with a shower. Berlioz jumped up and sat on her chest, kneading once more, and looking down at her.
"Did you have a good day?" she asked the cat, patting him lightly. "I'm so tired I could sleep forever." He said nothing back, and she hugged him close. "You're a good listener."
September 3rd, 1975
Dorcas grunted as she pulled herself up through the trapdoor. Thick, smoky, purple incense wafted under her nose. The tables were set up in pairs at the back of the classroom, and the few students that had already arrived sat cross-legged on the carpet. Professor Nicholl was sitting at her desk, rifling through the drawers furiously. Dorcas made her way over to the group and sat down next to Mary Macdonald, a blonde girl from Gryffindor. A couple more students drifted in, and finally, their professor seemed to find whatever she'd been looking for.
"Good morning!" she said, coming over to them. Dorcas looked up at her, legs starting to ache. "You're probably all wondering why I've got you sitting down, and in this spot.
"The floor?" someone whispered, and laughs broke out. Dorcas raised her hand reluctantly.
"Yes?"
"A carpet, Professor." Professor Nicholl beamed, and clapped her hands together.
"Precisely," she nodded. "Does everyone know what happened with carpets over the summer?" The class was silent once more.
"There was an accident in Hull," someone said.
"Two people died in Shrewsbury."
"There was this massive collision between two of the brand-new Axminsters! Thirty-six people involved! My nan saw it happen, and she said there were people falling from the sky!" Professor Nicholl raised her hands for silence, but the chatter only died down to a few gurgling bubbles. Dorcas sighed, and raised her hand once more.
"They banned flying carpets in the United Kingdom, and it's going through the Irish Ministry now," she said.
"Someone keeps up with the Prophet," Professor Nicholl smiled. Dorcas put her hand down.
"The wireless, actually," she said. Professor Nicholl raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
"Anyways, the carpet belonged to my grandmother, but it's now been disenchanted and is unable to fly. Just an exciting tidbit to get us into the lesson. Now; good morning, welcome back. Welcome to O.W.L Divination. I have a syllabus for you, if you want, you can get it off my desk after class, but it's not strictly necessary." Dorcas eyed the desk, and noticed there were approximately four sheets available. If nothing else, Professor Nicholl knew what her class was like.
"Anyways, the carpet belonged to my grandmother, but it's now been disenchanted and is unable to fly. Just an exciting tidbit to get us into the lesson. Now; good morning, welcome back. Welcome to O.W.L Divination. I have a syllabus for you, if you want, you can get it off my desk after class, but it's not strictly necessary." Dorcas eyed the desk, and noticed there were approximately four sheets available. If nothing else, Professor Nicholl knew what her class was like. A lengthy anecdote was recalled, until their legs all started to turn numb, and finally the point came out. "I'm supposing all of you have watched or played Quidditch?" There was a general chorus of agreement. "Yes, well, good. So you can name this?" She reached into her pocket, and retrieved a golden snitch, wings wrapped tightly round. Students that had never once passed (in Dorcas' best guesses) were suddenly shouting 'snitch! It's a snitch!', and Professor Nicholl smiled.
"Spot on, again," she said. "Now, can anyone tell me why snitches can only be used once?" The chatter dove into silence. For once, everyone seemed to actually be thinking. Dorcas gave credit where credit was due. Any ability to get more than half the students to concentrate at once in a Divination classroom was impressive. After more silence than the room had ever heard before, Professor Nicholl continued. "Snitches have a flesh memory. Once they've been caught, they close forever – with an 'unless'. They remember who caught them, and the manner in which they were caught, until their destruction, and will open once again when the person repeats that exact motion. Now, of course, they're usually used as memorabilia, but for those of us with the Eye – or who are training as diviners – we can use these snitches in a very special way." For once, the class' attention was rapt. Despite her general disinterest in Quidditch, even Dorcas was leaning forward. It was a magic beyond the usual strokes of Charms or Defence or Transfiguration. It taunted her with the notion of older spellwork, before things had been classified so neatly.
As it turned out, their task for today would be to attempt to feel another emotions, by reading a personal object of theirs. "Remember," Professor Nicholl said. "Divination is not simply about the future, but the past. And they often inform one another." They were told to get into pairs and begin. Dorcas turned her head to look at Mary next to her. They'd paired up a handful of times before, but Dorcas never bothered much with making conversation, and Mary stumbled over every word. At least Mary did the work, which was more than could be said for the majority of the class. "Do you want to work together?" Dorcas asked. Mary blinked up at her, eyes large and round, and nodded silently.
Her legs complained as she stood up, slinging her satchel over one shoulder, and beelining for a table at the back of the classroom. An obtrusive, lemon yellow cloth was draped over the little round table, but that was all for today – no crystal ball or teacups or cards. Dorcas slid into her seat, and Mary copied, pulling her chair in until she looked a bit squished.
"Do you want me to read first?" Dorcas asked. Mary's eyes dropped, and a hand went to her hair. She handed Dorcas a pink ribbon. A small tuft of blonde hair was still caught in the fraying threads. She ignored that. "We have to do the questions on the board." She glanced over, reading. "What is your name?"
"Mary Elizabeth Macdonald," Mary said, not looking at her. Dorcas exhaled through her nose. It was usually easier to practice Divination with someone when you could look them in the eyes. At least she wasn't jumping about like some of the others.
"Does this object belong to you?" Mary made a little noise. "Can you speak up, please?"
"Yes," Mary said, tapping her fingers on the lemon tablecloth.
"What is this object?"
"Ribbon."
"Do you use this – do you wear the ribbon often?"
"Yes."
That was that, then. Mary was rocking a little. Dorcas laid out the ribbon so it crossed both her hands, and then closed fists around it. Her eyes shut.
At first, there was nothing, just the back of her eyelids. She could still hear the chatter from the rest of the class, including talk about Renee Walker that could in no way be construed as constructive or educational unless they were doing dream analysis. She steadied her breathing. In. Hold. Out. Hold. In. Hold. Out. Hold. She could hear Mary's chair creaking, and the incense was well up her nose. It was supposed to get them into the mood, but it never did much for her. Now wasn't the time to be complaining about the use of incense, however. She kept her breathing slow and consistent. Sight was the easiest sense to dull. Next, she imagined a gentle buzzing in her ears. She focused on the feeling of the pink ribbon on her palm, the coarseness of the curled hairs, the fraying edges. Her muscles slowly relaxed.
Her mind was empty. Blank. Slowly, the ribbon began to engrave itself into her sight, just an outline. She ran a finger over the fabric. A silk-like texture joined the image. She touched the tip to each fraying edge, and each one appeared. Slowly, the picture grew more and more complete in her mind.
The first thing she drew from it was cold. It began as a slight chill, so slight she wasn't sure if it was from the ribbon, or if there was a light breeze. A shiver nipped at the base of her spine, and then circled under her collar. Her toes wriggled in her shoes, a thousand miles away. It turned to a freeze, burning her nose, her fingertips.
"I'm starting to feel things," a voice said, her own. "Are you cold?"
"Yes." Pause. "Mostly always." Dorcas latched onto the ice. It seeped through her uniform, through her bones. The feeling was stronger than any images; it was still mostly black, with the occasional glimmer of something that looked like water. There was a pit in the base of her stomach where the cold nestled; the warmth of the breakfast Dorcas had earlier was gone. She wanted to crawl into bed, to curl up by the fire in the common room. Dorcas furrowed her brows. She tried to picture the common room; she'd never been in there. A sense of heat flickered, and there was red, but she could've been imagining it – it didn't take a genius to assume the Gryffindor common room had red in there somewhere.
The heat dwindled as quickly as it had come, and her feet were freezing again. Her mind turned white, and she felt weightless. Empty. She strained her ears, listening. The buzz was fading, duller. Somewhere, water was running steadily, like it was a waterfall, or coming from a tap. Dorcas tightened her grip around the ribbon. What was the feeling? Cold was fine, cold was okay, it was better than nothing, but there had to be more. The cold was turning bitter, the water grew louder. She felt so light. Like she was floating. As if someone had cast the Levitation Charm on her. She didn't want to come down. It was nice, being so light. Even with the cold.
Warmth reached her fingertips. Shaking rattled her bones. "Dorcas!" Her eyes flung open, and Mary Maconald was paler than Dorcas had ever seen her in all the years they'd shared classes.
"Mary," she said, blinking. Her hands were trembling. Professor Nicholl was standing at their table, palms flat on the clotch. "Professor."
"You weren't responding, dear. Mary was a little worried about you." Profesor Nicholl squeezed her shoulder. "You always go deep. Do you feel alright?" The cold was fleeing. Her breathing steadied. The noise of the class was coming back, with all their stupid debates and clearly made-up premonitions. Slowly, she nodded.
"I'll be alright. Sorry, Mary." Dorcas untangled the ribbon from her fingers, and gave it back. Mary took it quickly. "You can go next."
"How about I make you girls some tea?" Professor Nicholl asked, and then straightened up. "Tea, tea, would anyone like some tea? Not for reading, just for interest." She toddled away, making note of those in favour of a warm beverage. Dorcas turned her attention back to Mary, whose bottom lip was wobbling so much it looked as if it had been jinxed.
"What did you feel?" Mary askedfinally, voice sturdier than Dorcas would've thought. She smoothed down the creases of her jumper, and straightened.
"Not anything too personal," she admitted. "I was just cold. I felt light, and cold. You're not one of the ones who inject themselves with billywig stingers, are you?" she teased. Mary's face was blank.
"That's illegal," she said flatly, eyes down. "You aren't permitted to harvest billywigs or their stingers for recreational purposes." Dorcas said nothing, pursing her lips. For a few moments, they were silent. She looked up at the ceiling, and back at Mary, who was very determinedly staring at the yellow threads. Best to move on, Dorcas thought, quick smart.
"I'd best get something of mine for you to use. One second."