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It started as a class project.
Mary had groaned internally when it was assigned. Their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year was big on class projects, and he rarely let you pick your own partners. He was big on assigning them with “fluidity,” casting a spell and letting ribbons fly across the room and show you who your partner for the project would be.
That’s how Mary ended up spending two hours in the library with Mulciber. Working with him had been surprisingly unpleasant—not one jab at her blood status or comment about her house.
They were leaving the library, and Mulciber had an odd look on his face.
“Hey, MacDonald,” he said, not unkindly. “I’ve got a short cut to the Great Hall. I know it’s almost dinner, so I figured we could walk together. Would you like me to show it to you?”
Mary smiled. She suspected he might have a crush on her, and honestly, if he continued being as nice as he had been in the library, she thought she might give him a chance.
“Sure, why not,” she said, letting him lead her down a staircase. They walked together amicably, chatting about nothing in particular, when Mary noticed the lights begin to get dimmer. They’d reached the dungeons, and she was beginning to feel like this wasn’t a short cut after all.
“Are you having one on me?” she asked, smiling at him. “If you wanted to get me alone for a snog in the candlelight you could have just asked.”
His face was inscrutable, and Mary placed a hand on his shoulder, encouragingly.
“Get your hand off me, you filthy mudblood,” he sneered, shocking and surprising her as he pushed her away, against the wall.
Mary stared at him, confused, tears sparking to her eyes.
“Wha-what?”
“As if I would ever want to snog somebody like you,” he said, and then laughed derisively.
She heard footsteps in the shadows, and turned to see Avery emerging from them. Avery was a nasty boy… and Mulciber’s best friend. Her heart began to sink and fear bubbled up in her stomach as she realized what was happening.
This was a trap.
“Now, Mulciber, we were having such a nice time earlier,” she said, trying to smooth it over, trying to buy herself time as she slowly reached her hand toward her pocket, looking for her wand.
He noticed her movement and whipped out his own wand, pointing it at her throat.
“Not so fast, MacDonald,” he said, his smile lopsided and devilish. Avery was beside him now, laughing and goading him on.
“Yeah, not so fast, MacDonald,” he repeated, raising his own wand, twirling it in his fingers menacingly. His sleeve dropped down his arm a bit, and Mary could see the curl of a snake, just barely.
He had the dark mark. They likely both did. Her fear doubled.
Mulciber whispered a curse, and suddenly she felt invisible ropes binding her, crossing around her arms and legs so she couldn’t move, and across her face and mouth so she couldn’t call out.
It burned, it singed, and tears were streaming down her face. Mulciber and Avery were laughing.
“You’re such a stupid, naive little mudblood,” Mulciber said. “You really thought I liked you? It was hell getting through that project together in the library, pretending to be nice. Honestly the only thing that held me together was thinking about Avery and I’s plan to get you down here afterward.”
Her tears flowed more. The pain was unbearable, and she did feel naive. She felt like such an idiot. How could she trust him?
And then, all of a sudden, probably 30 seconds after it all began, but what felt like years to her, there was a storm of footsteps, a flash of red, and both Mulciber and Avery’s wands flew out of their hands. Mary felt the ropes disappear. The two scrambled to pick up their wands and flee, and Mary sunk to the floor, cradling her arms around her knees as her savior sunk down to the ground to help her.
It was an older Slytherin girl, Andromeda Black, whispering spells to soothe the pain. Mary couldn’t say anything, all she could do was cry.
“Hey, hey, look at me,” she said. “It’s alright, you’re okay. You’re alive. I’m going to take you to the Hospital Wing. Can you walk?”
Mary nodded, the tears still rolling down her face, singeing as they crossed over the wounds in her cheeks. She let Andromeda help her up, leaned against her as they made the long trek to the Hospital Wing.
Madam Pomphrey was horrified when she saw them enter, immediately working to get her into a bed, applying a salve, summoning water for her to drink.
“Who did this to you?”
Mary was mute. She couldn’t bring herself to open her mouth. Her lips still burned from the magical ropes that had been tied across them.
Pomphrey looked at Andromeda for answer, and she just shook her head.
“I didn’t see their faces,” she said. “They fled as soon as I disarmed them, and I was more concerned with helping MacDonald than chasing after them.“
Pomphrey nodded.
“As you should. I’m glad you showed up when you did. Otherwise this could have been much worse.”
Mary laid in that bed for three days. Despite everything Madam Pomphrey tried, the marks left from the invisible rope didn’t fade. They were dark red against her face, dark red against her arms. She hated them.
Her friends came and visited, and she didn’t even try to smile. Once so full of words, she had none to offer. Marlene McKinnon demanded to know who it was, vowing to curse whoever it was, but Mary just shook her head.
“I don’t want more trouble,” she said.
Dumbledore visited, and she shook her head again. She knew Mulciber and Avery had friends who would seek their revenge if she got them expelled for what they did to her. She didn’t want to risk it. She didn’t want to be targeted even more than she already was as a muggleborn.
Mary was released from the Hospital Wing, allowed to return to classes. The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher told her he’d give her and Mulciber a pass on their project, given the incident. Mulciber sneered and laughed under his breath in the corner of the room, and Mary just nodded quietly, looking at her desk and gripping Lily’s hand underneath the table.
Lily was the first person she told, walking together after that class ended. She slowly told her other friends as well, making them swear not to tell anyone in authority, giving her reasons about safety. Mary didn’t walk anywhere alone after that though. She always had a friend or two by her side when outside of Gryffindor Tower. It was the only way she felt safe.
There were whispers throughout the castle about who did it. It seemed it was no secret who’d attacked her within Slytherin house, and she had to deal with leers from all of the junior deatheaters, taunting her with laughter and comments under their breaths. Marlene told her that she’d curse them backwards sideways and forwards if she liked, but Mary simply shook her head. She didn’t want any more trouble coming back to her.
She quit the Quidditch team too. She actually yelled at James during practice one day for pushing them too hard. He looked humbled for once, apologizing, but Mary had had enough. She wished them luck on the finals and threw her broom on the ground, leaving the pitch. She’d made it halfway to the castle alone before she had a panic attack, realizing how vulnerable she was out in the open, alone. A touch on her shoulder made her scream, but thankfully it was just Marlene with Frankie Kubo, bats in hand, ready to walk her to the castle. She hugged them gratefully, and the two beaters apologized for not following her immediately. Marlene entertained her by saying all sorts of mean things about James as they walked back.
The year closed, Mary did surprisingly decent on her OWLs, and she went back home to her parents, a broken and changed girl. They worried over her and comforted her, and even offered to pull her out of school if she wanted. She shook her head again.
Shortly after the summer began, Mary started therapy. It was good to talk it out, even if she had to change a couple of the details for the muggle psychiatrist. She was lucky to find one of the only wizarding therapists in Hogsmeade with the help of Madam Pomphrey, and Mary began her sixth year.
She was different, irrevocably changed. But she was healing, and sometimes that’s all you can ask for.