Chapter Text
1967
The concept of soulmates is odd.
In Judaism, it is believed that before a male child is born, his soulmate is announced by a voice in heaven—a match made in heaven—and describes husbands and wives as two halves of a whole, brought together again in holy matrimony.
In Greek mythology, humans were originally androgynous, with four arms, four legs, and two faces. Zeus split them in half, and from then on, humans searched their whole lives for their other half.
In Hinduism, a person has seven chakras, energy centers, which, when in tune and in harmony with those of a woman, creates a sense of completeness.
Of course, this is all bullshit.
Marlene McKinnon had made this discovery while digging through her mother’s cabinets as a nosy seven-year-old. At the bottom of the drawer, just where Marlene knew she would find them, were a plethora of books. Any subject, any religion, any myth, any poem—anything her mother could get her hands on—would end up in those bottomless drawers. Her mother had what one could call... “phases.” This could be traced back to when Marlene was four, and her mother would go to the Muggle theater every day. She’d sit there in the dark for hours, utterly entranced by the film. She would come home every day, gushing about how some Avenger had gruesomely died or how some wizard had narrowly escaped. Eventually, Marlene’s father grew tired of her mother’s whims and took a liking to his secretary’s cleavage. Rather typical, if you had asked Marlene. But no one cared about the snotty seven-year-old, so there she was.
In her mother’s office.
At the bottom of her mother’s drawer.
Looking into her mother’s current obsession then—Muggle literature.
"Daniel, I can’t believe you don’t have moving pictures, it’s amazing!”
"Daniel, look at how this book describes wizards, marvelous, isn’t it?”
“Daniel, who is this silly character, Jesus?”
(That, in fact, may have been Dad’s breaking point, considering he was a devout Christian.)
But all of that was beside the point. The conclusions Marlene had come to, as a cynical seven-year-old, were that if soulmates were real, it would mean a couple of things:
Marlene’s parents weren’t meant for each other, which made Marlene less of a miracle, and more of a…miscalculation.
Marlene’s purpose was to spend her life searching for something she most likely would never find.
Marlene would need someone else to make her feel whole.
Yeah, absolutely not.
So, right there, at the ripe age of seven, Marlene vowed to never believe in soulmates. She wouldn’t let any book, any story, any myth, or any poem ever convince her of such a despicable concept.
No one ever told her how fucking difficult it would come to be.
* * *
April 1969
Marlene strongly believed that girls and boys could be friends without it being weird, no matter what Angelina Trowley from her choir class said. This was made very clear when a foul boy with mud-covered glasses and atrocious manners had knocked on her front door for water while she was snipping flower petals off her mother’s roses.
Honestly, who in the world does that?
James Potter, everybody! The boy who knocked on Marlene McKinnon’s front door when he was nine, wooed her mother with his puppy-dog eyes, and eternally damned Marlene with his presence for the rest of her life.
With both her nagging mother and a persistent creature in her life, she had no choice but to inevitably relent to their incredibly bothersome tendencies and endure their long, painful conversations, which went something like this:
“Soooo, what’s your name?” (It took him some time to learn Marlene’s name.)
“Marlene.”
“Wow! That’s so pretty—[insert voice trailing off due to withering glare]... or not?”
“Hm.”
“Soooo, what do you like to do for fun?”
“Scoop roadkill off the side of the road and rip out their ribs to make toothpicks.”
“Oh.”
[Insert Marlene enjoying a second of peace.]
“Sooo—”
Yeah, that was pretty much the gist of it.
Eventually, he learned Marlene’s name, learned to not call anything about her pretty, and learned, most importantly, that she did not, in fact, rip out the bones of dead creatures. Though, she had to admit, she might just have made an exception for James.
* * *
December 1970
“Oh, thank Merlin,” Marlene groaned, flopping onto the beanbag. Her dark hair spilled over the edges, snaking down to the floor.
Her mother seemed to have made it her life’s goal to scare away her children, because from the second the owl arrived bearing her invitation to Hogwarts, Marlene’s mother had not had the sense to leave her alone. To be clear, the letter had arrived at midnight.
It was now two in the afternoon. She was tired.
Her brother, Sam, protested, “No, nope, get the hell out of my room. I don’t want Mum coming in here to disrupt the nice environment—”
“You’ve built for yourself, yeah, yeah, cut the crap, and let me hide out,” Marlene rolled her eyes.
“Absolutely not, get out. Marlene, I’m serious. She’s not coming in here.”
“Quit being such a worrywart. You haven’t even wished me a happy birthday yet,” Marlene said gleefully, turning over on the beanbag.
“I’ll do it once I know Mum won’t come barging in here.”
Honestly, Sam was the most stubborn person on the planet. Marlene couldn’t fathom how they came from the same family, because she was nothing like him.
“Let me stay.”
“Or what?”
Marlene grinned cheekily. “Or I’m going to yell at the top of my lungs for Mum, and we’ll both be in hell.”
“Bloody hell, Marlene!” Sam fell back against his pillow dramatically, as if it were the end of the world. Bloody drama queen.
“Three,” Marlene jeered.
“You’re too scared,” he said confidently.
“Two.”
Sam muttered, a little less confidently, “Coward.”
“One.”
“You wouldn’t,” he whispered, in utter fear.
“MU—”
“Alright, fine, stay, just shut up!” Sam snapped, finally giving in.
“Wow, thanks for offering, Sammy!” She said cheerfully.
“I’ll curse you.”
“Still haven’t wished me.” She put her head in her hands, looking up at her brother.
After a long pause, Sammy sighed.
“Birthday.”
* * *
September 1971
"Alright, my dearies, goodbye! Marlene—have fun at Hogwarts, I’ll see you during the holidays, alright? Sam—don’t kill anyone. And for Merlin’s sake, stay with your sister on the train."
They dutifully answered, "Yes, Mum."
Both of them glanced at each other, silently agreeing that they absolutely would not be doing that. Marlene’s mother kissed them each on the head and shooed them toward the train, which was blowing its last whistle, signaling its near departure.
Out of earshot, Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever you do, stay away from me, Marlene. I don’t want my friends seeing you."
Marlene huffed. "Yeah, well, I don’t want to see any of those tossers anyway—"
"Bye, Marlene,” he sang teasingly. “Don’t die."
"That’s not funny!" she called after him, suddenly feeling a little lonely.
She looked around, already feeling smaller without an older presence nearby. Alone, she was just a sticky eleven-year-old whose mum had chosen Muggle yoga over staying until the train actually left. No other kid stood alone—either being smothered by their parents or laughing with friends. All except one girl, who seemed to be trying to kill everyone with just her withering glare.
Is this what everyone here's like?
Just as her feet began to consider turning back, she heard a familiar voice shout her name.
"Marlene!" James called from behind, and she spun around, relief crashing through her.
She squealed in every way except dignified. “James!”
"Hiya, tosser," he greeted, ruffling her perfectly pinned hair.
She groaned, slapping his hand away. "Keep your slimy hands off me or I'll—"
"—End my entire bloodline, yeah, yeah,” James grinned, exceptionally cheerful for a dead guy.
James hooked her arm through his and began dragging Marlene toward the train, shouting his goodbyes to his mum before pulling them into a compartment. They slumped into their seats and sat in silence. James, usually so self-assured, picked at his fingernails.
He finally spoke, eyes trained on his feet. “Sooo, are you ready for Hogwarts?”
“No,” Marlene muttered, but for once, she appreciated the break in silence.
She was in a foul mood because of…well, she couldn’t exactly say. But there was always a reason.
“Well, I’m excited, so I’ll be excited enough for both of us. Ladoo?”
If there was one good thing about James Potter, it was his mum. Euphemia Potter made the most delicious sweets—ladoo, halva, and Marlene’s favorite: kheer. Her mouth watered just thinking about it. Just as she reached out to grab the sweet, she was interrupted—more like collided into—by a sweaty, slightly panicked boy bursting into their cabin.
"Er... mate, you alright?" Marlene asked, not unkindly. If someone was panting like a beast was after him, she figured it was worth checking in.
James added, "Yeah, you look like you’ve seen a ghost."
The boy looked thoroughly disturbed, voice trembling. "Not a ghost. A Black."
Marlene had no clue what that meant, but she matched his horrified look anyway. James, however, wasn’t buying it.
"Oh, come off it! They can’t be that scary."
"Bloody hell, mate, he looked like he was going to rip my eyes out and feed them to me! He was chasing me—screaming and everything!"
Marlene was as confused as James looked. "Are you sure—"
It was almost comedic, what happened next.
The boy who stepped into the cabin was, without exaggeration, the most beautiful person Marlene had ever seen. Dark curls hair falling to his shoulders, sharp grey eyes scanning the room, and a wide, toothy grin. His gaze landed on Sweaty—Marlene had officially named him that—and lit up.
"Mate, your laces are untied! I don’t think you heard me, since you started running like a bloody hound dog!" he laughed, though it was a little stilted.
Marlene bit back a snort as Sweaty mouthed laces to himself, still bewildered.
"Hah...Sorry about that, Black," Sweaty stammered.
Black shrugged and held out his hand. "It’s fine. I’m used to it. I’m Sirius, by the way."
James, never one to let attention pass him by, burst out before Sweaty could even respond. “Hi! I’m James Potter! This is Marlene McKinnon!”
Marlene managed a grimace, wondering how in the bloody hell she’d gotten herself into this situation. She gritted her teeth—James. It was always James. She was going to kill the spawn of Satan himself when they got out of the compartment.
“Hi,” she said weakly, giving them a small wave.
Sweaty scratched the back of his neck. “I’m Peter.”
Sirius squinted at James, as if he was going to bite. “Potter, you said?”
“Er…yes?” James looked confused, glancing at Marlene for help, who just shrugged. It wasn't her problem that the bloody moron couldn’t stay away from trouble for more than five seconds.
After a few moments of awkward silence, Marlene had had enough.
“Well. Sirius. Peter.” She gave James a withering look. “Potter. Lovely meeting you all, but I think I heard something about a candy trolley? Yes, I think I'm going to go check that out.”
“No, Marlene, I think it’s more toward the middle of the train ride—”
“Hm, nooo, pretty sure it’s early,” she said, forcing the biggest smile she could manage, and bolted from the compartment—ignoring James’s protests and Peter’s call for Chocolate Frogs.
She walked quickly down the hall, brushing past a tall and lanky boy, whose face was covered in scars and dead set in an intimidating glare. Her stomach dropped, and she flung herself into the nearest compartment, praying to Merlin that it wasn’t anyone weird, or older, or judgy, or smelly, or of the lesser sex, or—wow, that was a long list of the possible people that could be at Hogwarts.
It’s not like she was completely unaware of Hogwarts. Her mother, when she was in a good mood, would go on long rants and tangents about how the school itself was magical without even needing magic (whatever that meant), how it was a place that brought people together (doubt it), and how it was the best place on Earth for a young witch or wizard to live (her mother said a lot of questionable things).
Marlene knew about the Houses. She knew basic spells. She knew some magical history. But for the most part, she was as blind as a Muggleborn walking into Hogwarts for the first time. Her mother had been tight-lipped about how the school actually worked, preferring instead to go on about mystical nonsense and magical hogwash that never made any real sense.
But it was fine. She could fend for herself. She didn’t need help from her mum. Or James. Or—
“Hiya! Do you need help? Are you looking for someone?”
—Or this random, stunningly beautiful girl.
Merlin, why is everyone here so pretty?
Another girl—red hair, green eyes, and an alarming number of freckles—looked up at her earnestly. “Yeah, we could help you!”
“I—yeah...” They seemed okay. “Can I sit with you guys?”
The first girl beamed, curls bouncing. “Yes, of course! Lily and I—That’s Lily,” she added, nodding at the redhead, “We were just talking about how excited we are to start Hogwarts. I mean, we’d never even heard about it, and then a witch shows up at our door saying we’re magic—isn’t that wild?”
Oh god.
Marlene smiled, resigning herself to the next seven hours. “Sure is.”
After one train ride and a disgusting number of chocolate frogs, Marlene knew a couple of things about them.
First, their names were Mary and Lily.
Mary talked a lot, and Lily nodded a lot.
They were both Muggleborns. They didn’t know anything about Hogwarts and expected Marlene to tell them everything.
And most importantly—
They weren’t all too bad.