September 10th, 1976: Marlene McKinnon

(sixth year)

She gets her internship results at lunch: she made it through combat training with flying colors but is rejected from the program because of her character assessment. Somehow, she's not surprised.

At least she's not the only one who's less than happy about her results. "My bloody dad, I'll bet anything," Sirius hisses as he reads through his own rejection letter. "The Ministry's right in the Blacks' pockets…"

"It's okay, Sirius," sighs Remus. "I didn't get in, either."

"But you're such a good student, and you're a prefect—why on earth would they reject you?" asks Alice. Marlene doesn't miss the significant looks the boys exchange, but none of them comments on this.

"Tough luck, Sirius, Remus," says James bracingly, skimming a rather thick information packet. "Why the hell did they put me in Accidents and Catastrophes? I signed up for Games and Sports!"

"The Department of Magical Games and Sports had the most applicants, after the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Alice adds, flipping through the pages of her own packet. "I'm so excited—I made the Auror program!"

"That's wonderful, Alice—did you get in, Marlene?" asks Lily, glancing between the two girls. Marlene shakes her head and stuffs her letter into her bag.

Emmeline tosses her rejection letter into her pumpkin juice and slips Peter's letter out of his hands—he's too afraid to open it. Neatly slitting open the envelope, she reads the first lines of his packet silently and hands it back to him, saying, "Congratulations—Department of Magical Games and Sports. You'll be helping to set up the 1978 Quidditch World Cup."

James stabs moodily at his pork chops. "I'm supposed to report to some junior minister, Cornelius Fudge—what kind of a name is Fudge, anyway? He heads the bloody Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee, for god's sake!" Mary tries and fails to comfort him, as she's more preoccupied with her acceptance not into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures like she wanted but the Department of Magical Transportation.

"What's yours in, Lily?" asks Remus politely.

"Oh—I got into International Magical Cooperation," she replies, smiling. "I'm shadowing a junior ambassador to France."

"If you run into any of my distant cousins, tell them I say hullo," Sirius says moodily. Lily winces.

The next few days pass fairly uneventfully. James is back to following Lily around like a lost puppy to the extent that she allows it, though with more determination, humor, and occasional sexual innuendo than a dog could ever convey. And then there are the rumors—do people ever tire of them? Thanks to Marlene's common room row with Sirius, the entire castle knows about more than she would like: Maggie starting the rumors, both of them leaving home, the shagging. At least word hasn't gotten out that they've been doing it since fourth year; in the wizarding world, that would be the kind of scandal that Marlene doesn't have the patience to put up with (it's bad enough that they're only sixteen—younger than the legal age).

Then, of course, there's the fact that she didn't pass Auror testing, always a fun thing to hear discussed throughout the corridors.

Alice has been trying to act normal since her outburst, refusing to explain herself whenever Marlene brings it up, and Mary, surprisingly, is hanging around the Gryffindors a lot more than the Hufflepuffs—Marlene reckons Veronica Smethley's finally gone too far with something or another. In exchange for Mary's company, though, Em's started spending most of her time with Maggie. Marlene doesn't blame her for what Maggie did, but Lily, apparently, does. It must have been something she said—there's always something Em said.

The boys are just as close-knit as ever—so much so, in fact, that they won't give Sirius one moment to get away. Marlene reckons she's supposed to be grateful for that, but she's not.

Wednesday, though, breaks the routine they've fallen into. Herbology is a pain, of course—but instead of Catchlove and Smethley, Mary wants them to work with Alice and Cattermole, a nice change. Marlene can't say she's fond of Cattermole—he's a little, well, wimpy—but he's still much better than the likes of Smethley. And Alice, though something of an annoying goody-goody at times, is still a Gryffindor—almost like family, not that Marlene can say much for her real one.

Though they're at times distracted by the looks James and Peter intermittently give them from across the room (their partner, Benjy Fenwick, is clearly not amused), Alice keeps the four of them on task—and thank bloody god for that, since Marlene probably couldn't survive class without her. However, it's the end of class that catches her interest, a lot more than Cattermole's meek ramblings or staring at Mary—as they pack up to leave after the bell rings, Sprout holds Marlene back, specifically sending Mary and Alice on without her. "McKinnon," she says unceremoniously (is that a hint of pity in her voice?), "the Headmaster asked me to send you to his office after class. Password's 'Cauldron Cake.'"

Marlene is startled for a moment—Dumbledore couldn't possibly have heard…? "But what—"

"Well, go on, then, don't keep Professor Dumbledore waiting," instructs Sprout, waving Marlene out of the greenhouse. "Go on!"

She shoves the curious Veronica Smethley out of her way as she catches up to Alice and Mary (Peter and James have gone on ahead to find the other two boys). "Dumbledore wants to see me," Marlene says in a low voice, fully aware that the Hufflepuff girls are trying to eavesdrop.

"Dumbledore?" repeats Mary, stricken. "But not about…"

"Maybe. I dunno," Marlene snaps, suddenly touchy. "I'd better go on my own; it must be personal, if Sprout didn't want anyone to know I'm going to see him. Don't wait for me, yeah? Could be a while."

Quickening her pace, Marlene leaves them behind as they reach the castle and directs a hasty "shove off" to Smethley—she doesn't have the patience to deal with her just now. She hardly feels herself rising the stairs to the second floor and approaching the stone gargoyle that guards Dumbledore's office: her attention is more concerned with the looks she attracts as she pushes her way through the corridors. Damned Sirius.

Thankfully, the hall outside the Headmaster's office is a safe haven—students, for obvious reasons, tend to avoid it. "Cauldron Cake," Marlene snarls, panting—the gargoyle lets her in, but not without grazing her shoulder as she brushes past it.

She hesitates before knocking—she can hear voices from outside the door. "—don't see why you think this is any different," says Dumbledore's guest—male, from the sounds of it. "Not even Slytherin respects her authority—how can you expect the rest of the school to?"

"Perhaps, Mr. Prewett, the problem lies not with Miss Meadowes's views but with the rest of the school's," answers, unmistakably, Dumbledore. "Your brother, I have heard, has gotten along quite well with her—I suggest you learn to do the same."

Gideon Prewett, then, apparently complaining about Dorcas Meadowes. No surprises there. "But Professor—"

Marlene chooses this moment to knock, loudly enough that they'll have to notice. There's a brief stretch of silence, then the sound of footsteps—Gideon flings the door open and leaves in a huff, leaving her alone with the Headmaster. "Good morning, Miss McKinnon," he greets her, indicating a squashy armchair opposite his desk that Gideon must have been sitting in. "Please, take a seat."

She remembers her anxiety and takes slow steps across the office. "Good morning, sir," Marlene replies, cringing inside at the hard note in her voice. "You wanted to see me?"

"Ah, yes," says Dumbledore with a small sigh. "I don't mean to pry, Miss McKinnon, but please, tell me—what reasons did your Healer cite for rejecting you from the Auror training program after your character assessment?"

Deflating a little—Marlene should have known it wouldn't be about Sirius—she says sullenly, "She said I'm too rash to make effective decisions, and my distrust of my peers and condescension of my presumed inferiors hinders my ability to cooperate for a common goal."

He just smiles again, and she adds in a muttered rush, "And I lack the confidence and self-esteem necessary to be a proper leader."

Dumbledore's smile, at least, falters at this. "Though many a rumor has reached the staff room about your personal affairs," he admits (to her surprise), "I will not ask you to change yourself or your doings for the good of the Ministry. What was it about the Auror program that allured you?"

"The war," Marlene says immediately—she doesn't need to think this one out. "I want to fight. My best friend's a Muggle-born—"

"Miss Macdonald, I presume?" She nods but doesn't trust herself to speak. He heaves another sigh and leans in from across the desk. "Miss McKinnon, I have not brought this to your attention until today because I believe that students here at Hogwarts should not be exposed to the battlefronts of war, but given what would have been expected of you in your internship, I feel that this conversation is not much of a stretch. Aurors are not the only wizards equipped and ready to defend their beliefs, and to that end, I have spent the past few months constructing a small group of friends and colleagues to aid the war effort against Lord Voldemort. Now, you must understand that you would not be allowed to join until after your graduation from Hogwarts—"

There's a flash of recognition at his words. A small group of friends and colleagues to aid the war effort… it's something Doc let slip over the summer, something he kept rushing off to assist with. "I'll do it," Marlene says simply. "I want to start now."

Dumbledore clasps his hands together and pulls back. "I'd like to give you the next two years to consider my offer and know that your skill can still be put to use. Until you receive your diploma, though, I'm afraid my offer is inactive."

He rises—Marlene's bursting to say more, but he's made it clear that the discussion is over. "If you could not mention this conversation to anyone…"

"Right," she complies, nodding and turning to go. "Right, of course."

xx

She works with Lily again during their next Defense class. They're just reading today, so Marlene casts a quick Muffliato and takes her chance to talk to her privately. "What's Sirius's deal with Tonks, anyway?" Lily mutters as they're settling in. "He always seems to be in a foul mood every time we have this class. I know they're cousins, but I thought she was supposed to be the one cousin he actually liked?"

"They've got some baggage," sighs Marlene. "I don't know a lot of details, but apparently, he wanted her to take custody of him and maybe his brother a few years ago when things were getting really bad with his parents, and she wouldn't do it—said she was afraid they'd win in a custody battle and take it out on him for trying. The ironic thing is that he did eventually run away from home to move in with James, and his parents were more than happy when he did to burn him off the family tree and never speak to him again."

Lily winces. "That's terrible."

"Yeah. I understand where she was coming from, but he's got some sore feelings about it, especially because she told him she took this job mostly because she was worried about him and wanted to keep an eye on him." Marlene hesitates. "Speaking of keeping an eye on people, how have you been holding up through all the gossip about us?"

Lily puts a hand to her temple and closes her eyes, resting her elbow on the desk. "I'm all right," she says finally, starting to read. "Starting school was rough—all those rumors… but it's sunken in, all of it. My parents—" she swallows thickly "—I miss them, but they'd want me to move on with my life."

"You're making a brilliant effort," Marlene encourages her, smiling a little. "People have been all right to you? Apart from Maggie and the Hufflepuffs, the prats…"

Laughing, Lily reads another paragraph or two before answering—always on task, that one. "It's not just the Hufflepuffs—Dana Madley and Pol Patil are Ravenclaws, you know. And some of the Hufflepuffs are decent; Elisabeth Clearwater and Benjy Fenwick are all right, and your own brother—"

"I maintain that they're all prats," Marlene says airily, turning a page but not really reading. "As are the Slytherins, and some of the Ravenclaws—everyone but us, really."

"And you wonder why people don't like you," Lily mutters, grinning at Marlene.

Sirius brushes past her on his way out the door after class and says in her ear, "Fifteen minutes, ground floor closet." Like a puppet on a string, Marlene nods and meets him there.

Maggie finds Marlene by chance, after, and collects her—the whole ordeal feels more clinical than sisterly. She Vanishes the broken bottles and heaves Marlene onto her shoulder and helps her into the Ravenclaw common room, then into her empty dormitory. "This one's my bed," she directs, not that Marlene needs her to tell her after so many times, and she curls up on the mattress and cries into the pillow and wishes that she were back home with her cot and crowded bedroom, squeezing herself into an eight-person, four-bedroom ranch, not living in a castle with luxury bedding and spending holidays on the couch in her secret father's bachelor pad and sneaking off to James and Sirius's manor and its silk sheets…

"I said what I said to Dana Madley," professes Maggie through Marlene's drunken haze, "because I'm sick of the secrecy. Mum may act like you're second-rate, but you're not, and someone needs to show you why you're not—that's not going to happen if you keep acting like everyone's fine at home. You're not, Doc's not, Lily's not—"

"You should have left Lily out of this," Marlene sniffs—apart from the staggering and tears, she's holding her Firewhiskey well. "If you want to destroy me, that's one thing."

Maggie retorts, flaring up, "I don't want to destroy you. But you needed a wake-up call, both of you did—now just you, I bet." Marlene tries to argue, but Maggie cuts her off: "Be honest, Marlene; how many times have you slept with Black since school started?"

"One… two… three…" she tallies, counting blurrily on her fingers, "four… five… Five. Maybe—maybe six? Five or six."

"That's five or six too many times," Maggie informs her frankly, scooting in a little closer (Marlene doesn't notice until now that Maggie's sitting at the foot of the bed). "Are you trying to get pregnant or something?"

Marlene rolls her eyes—it's exaggerated from the liquor. "There's spells to prevent—"

"Save it. I don't want to know," interrupts Maggie, holding up a hand in a clear message to stop. "My sister is—"

"Half-sister," Marlene reminds her drowsily—the room starts spinning; the alcohol is sinking in.

"My half-sister is better than this, so you'd better start acting like it," she says strictly, leaning in close.

Marlene smiles and limply grabs her hand. "You're bossy," she says lucidly, just before she nods off to sleep.

The next thing she knows, someone's taken her back to Gryffindor Tower, and she has a massive headache and an empty stomach, which is a blessing in that she doesn't have to worry about possible effects of her nausea. She moans and sits up—she's haphazardly strewn beneath one thin sheet, the others stripped down and fallen around the bed.

"Welcome back," comes a serene voice—Em's. "Lie down. Margaret brought you to me," she explains when Marlene starts to ask.

Oh, Maggie—she always means well but has funny ways of showing it. "Did I miss lunch?"

"Yes." It's clean and direct, no-nonsense—not much empathy, either, much like Em herself. "Mary is getting something from the kitchens for you."

"I'm not hungry." Marlene's stomach chooses this moment to roar indignantly. "At least, I don't think I can hold anything down."

"You're within your rights to wait before eating," Em informs her. She's perusing Unfogging the Future again—her love of (and talent at) Divination is more than a little unnerving.

Marlene says, as coolly as she can while feeling this ill, "I'll wait, then."

The waiting is longer than she thought—by the time Mary comes up with a plate of lunch, Marlene's more than ready to scarf it down, nausea forgotten. "Thanks, Mare," she says, gulping down water.

"No problem," Mary replies, shrugging. "How do you feel?"

"Bad," Marlene mumbles through a mouthful of salad. "Where is everyone?"

"Oh, erm… Alice is, like, waiting for Cresswell to get out of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and James is chasing after Lily again," says Mary, handing Marlene a napkin.

Marlene nods, then furrows her brows as she glances around the background: "Where'd Em go?"

She's nowhere to be found—Mary seems just as surprised as Marlene is. "Yeah, well, Em's always a little, like, out there," she dismisses, closing the hangings around Marlene's bed and brushing a bit of hair from her forehead. "It's weird, isn't it? We include Em in things she doesn't even care about, but like, Lily was always the one we didn't like—"

"I always liked Lily," Marlene says stoutly—thanks to something Mary must have slipped into the salad dressing, her headache is fast dissipating. "It's Snape that was the problem, and Lily was never seen without him—"

"We saw her without him," murmurs Mary, shaking her head; her straggly hair whips at her face with the movement. "In classes, in the dorm. I know you, like, think she's your best mate now—"

Marlene spews (potentially spiked) salad back out onto the plate. "We went through shit together last summer, that's all! Even before that, I was mates with her—I invited her to stay the summer with me, didn't I?"

"You told me the night after you asked her that it was, like—it was only out of pity," she reminds Marlene, not meeting her eyes. "That day at the café, at Alice's house—you weren't very interested in her then."

"So you're jealous, then?" Marlene accuses, her voice rising.

"That's not even the half of it, Lene," says Mary—as unnervingly quiet as before. "Yeah, it was a shock when you came back to Hogwarts attached at the hip to a girl you never even liked, but like, you won't even admit that you used to be anything but best mates. That's selective memory for you."

"So what are you saying?" Marlene demands, lunch forgotten.

Mary looks melancholy enough to make her nervous. "I'm saying that if you were as close to Lily as you act, then, like, you'd at least be honest about what you used to think of her. God, Lene, does anyone at all mean enough to you for you to be honest with them? Do I?"

Something hot and shameful starts to bubble up in the pit of Marlene's stomach. "C'mon, Mare, you know it's not like that."

"Sure it's not," says Mary—she's gone starkly emotionless, rising from her perch on my bed. "And you think I'm more than just a shallow gossip to get your news from, and, like, you don't judge me by my mates in Hufflepuff, and you don't care that I dye my hair blonde or talk like I'm thick or…"

Marlene doesn't know what to say to this, so she scrutinizes her for a moment and chews tastelessly on some lettuce. "Your roots are getting a bit long," she says finally, for lack of anything better.

Mary twirls a lock of hair around her finger, her eyes hardening. "Let them get long," she decides, opening the hangings to leave. "Or would you feel better about yourself if I didn't?"

xx

When she finds out, it's not from Mum or Neil or even the Ministry—it's from a three-day-old copy of the Daily Prophet that Alice is reading up in the common room the next Monday evening. "Anything worth mentioning?" asks Mary absently, blowing on the fingernails Marlene has just finished painting for her.

"More deaths," says Alice, like that's normal or something, which Marlene supposes (after a moment's thought) it probably is, now. "Two families, both with children. Plus an Auror has gone missing."

"Anyone we know?" asks Peter.

"Probably not. The families were all Muggles, and the Auror is a Muggle-born guy. Caradoc Dearborn?"

Shit. Marlene can feel herself turning pale, her mouth hanging open. "Doc?" she croaks. Her voice sounds like it hasn't been used in years.

Alice frowns. "Wait, you…?"

Lily's mouth has fallen open, too, but she closes it to explain, "Doc is Marlene's uncle. The one who dropped us off at King's Cross on the first? We stayed with him over the summer."

Doc isn't Marlene's uncle, of course—Doc is Marlene's father. Not that anybody here but Lily and Mary knows this.

She's aware that their "uncle-niece" relationship doesn't hold up under scrutiny. Doc is single, which means that he didn't marry into either side of Marlene's family. Doc and Marlene's stepfather, Neil, don't share a last name, so most people wouldn't think that they could be brothers. And Doc is white as a sheet, while Marlene's mum is of black and Indian descent, so they probably wouldn't be siblings, either. She usually passes him off as a distant cousin if anybody asks precisely how they're related, but that doesn't quite explain it, either, unless he's got a grandparent who's a Squib or something.

But nobody dares press her about her family tree, not when Doc is missing and Marlene can—she can't breathe. She can't. Before she realizes what she's doing, she's up on her feet and taking long strides toward the portrait hole, ignoring the sound of Mary's voice calling after her.

She's halfway down the corridor heading for the staircase by the time Lily catches up with her. "Marlene—"

"How dare he!" hisses Marlene. Her cheeks are wet, but she doesn't care. She doesn't care about anything at all.

"Doc?"

"Dumbledore!" she thunders. "Either Doc went missing on Auror duties, in which case Dumbledore would have noticed Doc not showing up for Order business, or he went missing as a direct result of his work for the Order. Either way, Dumbledore must have known he had disappeared! He knew! And he didn't even bother to tell me? He let me find out from a newspaper, Lily! A goddamn three-day-old newspaper!"

Marlene's aware that she's not having an entirely rational reaction—firstly, that she's looking to make sense out of Doc's disappearance by placing blame, and secondly, that Dumbledore isn't necessarily the person she should be putting the blame on. Lily seems to be thinking the same thing. "You're not going to chase Dumbledore down over this, are you? Does he even know you two are related?"

"I'm sure he does. He worked with Doc all summer when the two of us were living with him, didn't he?"

"I just don't think that anything he could say or do is going to do anything to make you feel less… you know, afraid. Or sad."

"I'm not sad," spits Marlene. "Or scared." But Marlene knows that she's lying through her teeth, and she's pretty sure Lily knows it, too.

"Cauldron Cake," she tells the stone gargoyle, but it doesn't budge—Dumbledore must have changed the password. They stand there watching the gargoyle for a long minute, and then Marlene kicks it at its base, hard enough that she seizes one foot in pain and hops up and down on the other one, cursing.

They end up sitting down next to the statue, waiting for ten, twenty, thirty minutes in silence together. She wonders whether Doc went missing acting in his capacity as an Auror or as a member of the Order. She wonders whether it makes a difference.

Finally, the gargoyle leaps lightly to the side, pushing Lily and Marlene out of its way, and Marlene looks up to see Dumbledore standing on the bottom step looking surprised. "Miss McKinnon, Miss Evans," he says in a high pitch. "How can I help you?"

"My Uncle Doc is missing. What do you think I want?" Marlene demands.

"Ah," says Dumbledore. It only sets Marlene off more to see that Dumbledore knows exactly why she's so pissed off. "Perhaps you should come into my office for a few moments."

"Yeah, perhaps we should," says Marlene sullenly.

Lily looks like she isn't sure whether she's supposed to join her or not, but Marlene gives her a quizzical look when she gets to her feet, so Lily gets up, too. They ascend the circular staircase in silence. Once in the headmaster's office, Dumbledore waves his wand so that two squashy armchairs appear in front of his desk, but Marlene doesn't sit down, instead folding her arms over the back of one of the chairs and leaning forward onto it.

"You knew," says Marlene when Dumbledore doesn't speak again. It's not a question.

"I did," Dumbledore agrees. "To be entirely honest, I didn't realize you two were close enough that you would need to be immediately informed. I was aware you spent some time together over the summer, but I assumed your relation was a distant one—that your family would have told you about his disappearance if it was important that you know. Clearly, I was wrong."

Lily and Marlene exchange a look. Surely Dumbledore knows that Doc is Marlene's father… doesn't he?

Then again, how would he know? The only people besides Lily and Mary who know are Marlene's immediate family—Doc, her mother, her stepfather, and her siblings. Marlene would have thought that Dumbledore would have found out by nature of being in the Order with Doc, but if Doc kept it under wraps even from Dumbledore, how could he?

She's not planning on admitting to it—really, she's not—but she's sick of hiding, and she's tired of lying. She holds her head high. "Doc and I aren't distant cousins. Doc is my father."

To Dumbledore's credit, he doesn't look surprised. "I see," he says quietly, and then there's a big pause again. "I will keep your secret, of course," he adds finally. "And I will ensure that you are one of the first to know when we recover him safely."

"So he was captured working for you?"

Dumbledore nods. "I'm afraid I can't share the details of the mission he was on with you—"

"Why not? Huh? You were just telling me days ago how you want me to join you when I graduate—"

"And I meant it," says Dumbledore patiently, "but there are limitations on what I can and can't share with you. You are still, first and foremost, a minor and a student at this school, and it is my responsibility as your headmaster to protect you from the aspects of the Order that could threaten your safety."

Marlene shoots him a glare—a withering, betrayed glare. Then she sucks up her pride, spins on her heel, and makes to leave the room, Lily close on her heels.