Heiress of the Curse

Chapter Three - Revelations and Complications

As the month of July plodded along, Marian slowly attempted to re-immerse herself into her old, familiar summer routine. That is, she spent plenty of time hanging out with her Muggle friends from the neighborhood, took long bicycle rides through town, enjoyed an occasional trip to the movie theatre or ice cream shop, and spent evenings curled up in a cozy armchair with a book. Her mum stopped fussing constantly over her injuries within a week after her return. She was glad for that, and glad that her health had seemed to improve nearly back to a state of normality as the moon waned. The day of the new moon came, later in the month, and she almost felt as if she had managed to recover the pleasant life that had been stolen from her.

Almost.

Deep down inside, however, lurked the persistent reminder that things could never truly be the same again... and would definitely worsen in the second week of next month. Every night as she lay in bed, with the busyness of the daytime having surrendered its occupation of her mind, her thoughts would invariably return to the slowly approaching horror of her first transformation. Granted, it was still weeks away, but she wasn't fooling herself. It would come, like death, taxes, and homework assignments.

Also troubling her nocturnal musings--aside from the future--was the past. The night of the attack replayed itself on her mental TV set like a perpetual horror movie rerun. And if those images weren't in her mind (the wolf, the darkness) then the "commercial breaks" featured the moon and the bite scar on her leg. The bite was still there as a physical reminder, too, although it had sealed itself up nicely and no longer needed the bandages. She had taken to wearing long pants, to keep it out of her parents' sight... and her own sight. She could hide and ignore things in the daytime fairly well. It was the dark of night that stripped off the veil to illumine her anxieties once more.

But one sunny afternoon, two days after the new moon, a reminder did come, in the form of an owl from Professor Dumbledore. It was a reply to the letter she'd sent him from the Lupins' home.

The headmaster's note confirmed that he would gladly let her return to Hogwarts, and arrangements would be made with Madam Pomfrey just as they had been for Remus Lupin long ago. Dumbledore also mentioned that he was proud to be of assistance to another young victim of lycanthropy, although he certainly felt sorrowful that she had been afflicted with the curse. He finished by reassuring her that no one besides Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall, her head of house, would be told her secret.

By the time she was done reading the letter, tears had definitely begun to form in Marian's eyes. She wasn't sure if they were tears of sorrow or of joy--perhaps both mingled together. Grief at the remembrance of her condition was tempered by a surge of delight that at least Hogwarts had not been stolen out of her grasp. If there was one thing she wanted more than anything else now, it was just to finish school and become a fully trained witch.

Slowly she set the letter back down on her desk, where she had seated herself to read. It was just after lunchtime, and her parents were both at work, which was a good thing, because they wouldn't notice that she had gotten an owl post, and so they wouldn't ask her whom the letter was from. She had still not uttered a word to them about what had really attacked her two weeks ago; neither had she attempted to discover how her father felt about werewolves.

You had better do that soon, Marian Caldwell, she chided herself. But the fear... the fear was always there, and she had chickened out of several opportunities to broach the subject with him.

Standing up from her desk, she decided that she had better burn Dumbledore's letter now, just to make sure it wouldn't fall into anyone else's hands. She went downstairs to the living room where the fireplace was, glanced around and made sure that Kevin was nowhere to be seen, and tossed the letter into the grate. Remembering that she couldn't just perform the Incendio charm since it was summer, she headed for the kitchen to retrieve a pack of matches. She returned to the fireplace and set the note ablaze, watching until it was completely reduced to ashes.

Now the room smelled faintly of smoke, and she hoped that the scent would go away before her family members noticed it and asked what she had been burning. No need for a fire's warmth in the sweltering heat of July. But she was sure that the smell would clear away before her mum got home from work... it would be all right. She scooped up the ashes of the letter, once they had cooled a bit, and disposed of them in the dustbin.

A bit paranoid, are we? she asked herself wryly. Destroying all the evidence? Honestly, you're acting as if this is some sort of spy game. Disgruntled, she returned to her room.

Late that evening she found herself back in the living room, alone with her father after dinner. Her mum had remembered a few things she needed to pick up from the store, and her brother was spending the night at a friend's house. How much more of an opportunity do you need dropped into your lap to talk to him, now, Marian? she realized. Just go for it before you lose your nerve again!

Her stomach clenched in knots, and she almost started to rationalize the thought away... but she had been doing that for too long already. How on earth was she supposed to casually bring up the subject, though? "So, Dad, tell me all of your inmost thoughts and feelings about werewolves. This just happened to pop into my mind for no reason whatsoever." Chuckle, chuckle.

Don't be stupid, she thought. What would bring the topic to mind? ...Perhaps a Defense Against the Dark Arts homework assignment? Although she had no such summer assignment, she decided to use that story anyway.

"Er, Dad?" she began.

He looked up from the magazine he was reading and answered, "Yes?"

"I was just thinking... well, I was doing some summer homework earlier today for Defense Against the Dark Arts, and we're supposed to be reading about the treatment of werewolves--laws passed to control them, and all that. I'm a bit unsure of how I should feel toward them... I mean, it's not exactly their fault that they received that curse, is it? What do you think about their treatment?"

To her utter chagrin, her dad's face suddenly became a stony mask. "Well, Marian," he said gravely, "whether it's their fault or not, werewolves are a great danger to society. We can't just have them taking any liberties they want and growing careless about their situation. If you mean laws about them being around children, I perfectly agree with those. As for the jobs they can hold... those might be a bit strictly regulated, especially by Umbridge's legislation, but I do think that the reasoning behind them is sound."

"Oh." Marian felt as if a brick had just been dropped upon her heart. Struggling to keep her expression calm, she pressed, "But werewolves are people, too... most of the time. Shouldn't they be treated with more respect in general?"

Her father didn't answer for a moment. When he finally did speak again, he said, "I just don't know, Marian. I just don't know. To us they may look and act human, except on the full moons, but how do we really know if they are? Currently the Ministry is classifying them under 'beasts'. I wouldn't sign any petitions to get that changed."

"So--so if you met one... how would you feel?"

He frowned. "I do hope I would never be put in that situation." His tone of voice sounded almost... repulsed, or disgusted.

Marian fought back the tears. Her own father. Her very own father. And those bigoted words had just come out of his mouth. She could hardly think or breathe now, and all she wanted to do was to run from the room and hide herself somewhere, anywhere, deep down in a dark place, away from the world, away from its cruelty.

She found herself standing up from her chair and muttering something about having to use the bathroom. Stumbling into that room and shutting the door behind her, she collapsed onto the toilet. A slight dizziness took her, and she felt as if she almost might throw up.

Eventually the sensation passed, but the emotional anguish remained. My very own father. He hates them, too. He hates us... he hates me, too. For that was what it boiled down to, wasn't it? If he knew about her... what would he do? I certainly can't tell him now!

But even if he never did find out, she would still have to live with the knowledge of his double mindedness. She was not whom he thought she was--far from it. He said he loved his daughter, but he had no sympathy for what she had now become. She was not even human to him. She was a beast, or a monster to keep locked up in a cage.

So maybe you are, a nagging voice whispered in her head. Your dear, sweet dad seems to think so, and you've always trusted his judgment in the past. Looked up to him a lot, didn't you? So wise, so smart, so logical in his reasoning. Surely he couldn't be wrong about this?

She buried her face in her hands. Make it go away, make it go away... She couldn't believe this was happening to her. What had possessed her to ask her dad's opinion, anyway? She should have known she would get this kind of response, should have just made up her mind in the first place not even to think about revealing her secret. Look where it had gotten her.

Maybe I would be better off if... if I had... No! she thought, gritting her teeth. I made up my mind back at the Lupins' that lying down and giving up would be the cowardly thing to do, and would not solve anything. I made up my mind... but it's so much easier to say than actually to believe. How can I live with the knowledge that my father will probably disown me if he guesses my secret? The hot tears finally poured down her cheeks.

Soon a wave of exhaustion swept across her, too. All of this grief and confusion was wearing her out, and she suddenly wanted no more than to fall into her bed and sleep, sleep for days, sleep all her problems away.

She dried her eyes and stood up from the toilet, flushing it for good measure to keep up the appearance that she really had been using the bathroom. She ran water in the sink for a minute as well, and at last emerged from the room. Stepping softly through the hallway and skirting the living room, she climbed the stairs to the second floor and locked herself in her bedroom.

That night her feelings of anxiety and dread were worse than ever.

* * *

"Well, it's the first of August, kids. One more month till you're back in school," said Marian's mother cheerfully the very next week. Golden morning sunrays streamed in through the kitchen windows, providing a physical atmosphere to accompany Mrs. Caldwell's words; but Marian sat at the table glumly, barely touching her breakfast.

Kevin, by contrast, was bouncing in his chair. "I can't wait to be a second year! No more getting picked on by every single kid in school! I can boss around the new little firsties now!" he piped gleefully.

Mrs. Caldwell frowned, but she spoke lightly. "I hope that you won't, Kevin Matthew. You're barely out of their position, and you should remember what it felt like."

Her sandy-haired son scrunched up his small nose. "Yeah, yeah... you don't have to rub it in, Mum. But at least I can bring my broomstick to school now! And try out for the Quidditch team!"

Hearing this, Marian couldn't help but snort. "You'll never make it, Kev. You can't even fly around the pitch one time."

Now her little brother scowled. "You just wait, Marian," he said. "I'll show you and everybody else that I can make the team! At least by third year..."

"Whatever," muttered Marian, pushing her spoon listlessly through her cereal. It was soggy already, and she hadn't eaten half the bowl.

"Marian, are you all right?" asked her mother concernedly. "You usually eat a lot more than this, and you've been grumpy for days."

Marian shrugged off the words. "I'm okay... just not hungry right now, that's all. My stomach kind of hurts." (And it was beginning to.) Standing up from the table, she went over and dumped her bowl in the sink. Then she left the kitchen in search of some kind of diversion to take her mind off of... everything.

Well, mostly the fact that the full moon was approaching. Just one more week and it would be upon her. Seven more days. Today was a Saturday; that day would be a Saturday. Blasted Saturday. It's supposed to be a good day.

She climbed the stairs up to her room, legs trembling and stomach churning with trepidation. She had to push this growing feeling of terror out of her head before it took complete control of her body. She must not think about next week. Must distract herself.

Entering her room, she found herself wandering over to her bookcase. All right, she thought, maybe a book or magazine will help me feel better. She scanned the shelves, trying to find a lighthearted piece of literature to read, but stopped as she realized something. She had been turning into a bit of a hermit recently, hiding away in her bedroom and reading for the past few afternoons. Her parents might start to ask more questions if she kept that up, since she was usually far more active. The last thing she needed right now was more questions. You have to behave normally, she urged herself. Even if you don't feel like it.

She decided to abandon the prospect of reading. Now what should she do? As she headed reluctantly back downstairs, a solution was fortunately provided.

"Marian, you've got some owl post," her mother called.

Owl post? Looked like she would be reading after all.

I wonder who it's from... she mused as she headed back into the kitchen. Not Dumbledore again? But no, it wasn't a Hogwarts owl that she saw just soaring out the open kitchen window; it was a large, familiar snowy one. "That's Jacinda's bird, Snibbles," she murmured aloud.

"Oh, Jacinda your roommate?" Mrs. Caldwell asked, handing her the envelope the owl had delivered.

Marian nodded. "The tall, outgoing blonde," she elaborated. "You've met her at King's Cross Station a couple times." Taking her friend's letter into the living room, she plopped down onto the sofa to read it.

"Dear Marian, I hope your summer is going well. I was glad to hear from you last month, and I'm sorry I haven't written you since then! Things have been busy and FUN for me, though, and I hope they have been for you, too!"

Marian stopped reading for a moment. "Busy and fun"--this was typical Jacinda, she mused wryly. But as for herself... I wouldn't call my summer exactly 'fun.' Not since... the bite. Her thoughts turned bitter. How little her friend knew about her real circumstances; it was terribly ironic.

But she continued reading the letter. "Have you heard from any of the other girls lately?" (By this Jacinda meant their other three roommates.) "I got an owl from Alyssa two days ago, and she's been in touch with the others more than I have, of course, and she's been talking about wanting to get together soon at Diagon Alley when we go to purchase our supplies. So far the other girls are all agreed that next Saturday would be the best date, and I think so, too. Would that work for you?"

Again, Marian stopped reading, and this time she felt a sickening lurch in her stomach. Not next Saturday... she would have agreed to any date except next Saturday! She really wanted to see her friends, but there was no way it could happen that day.

I'll just have to make up an excuse about why I can't go then, she told herself. It shouldn't be too hard... something about a family event or weekend trip that we've been planning. Yeah. And maybe the girls can find another date when we're all able to meet up. If not, I'll see them at Hogwarts soon enough.

Quickly scanning the rest of the letter, which mostly contained excited accounts of Jacinda's recent summer activities, she folded it back up and replaced it in the envelope. Then she sat there on the couch for a few moments longer, contemplating how she would respond. It was a shame to lie to her best friends, but... it had to be done. And this was only the first deception of many.

* * *

The next few days flew by much too rapidly for Marian. (Of course, time always did that when you were dreading the approach of something.) She sent a reply to Jacinda the day after receiving her friend's letter, saying that her family had already made plans to go camping next weekend, and asking if her roommates would be able to change the date of their get-together. Four days later the response arrived that no, the rest of the girls' schedules could not be coordinated to fit any other day. Marian resigned herself to being left out, as she was pretty sure the others would still be meeting without her.

And then came August seventh, the day before the full moon. Which meant that tonight would be her last night before... she could only think of it as all hell breaking loose. She'd been watching the moon out her window every night for the past week, as it waxed ominously fuller and rounder, and her fear and apprehension emulated its progress. It became such a blinding terror to her that it almost didn't seem real at all. She would sometimes catch herself thinking, Maybe the transformation really isn't going to happen to me. It just doesn't seem like it could. It's so... completely foreign and out of my grasp to understand... maybe my feverish imagination is only making up this werewolf business after all.

But if her imagination was trying to fool her, her body was not. This morning she had woken up feeling weak and nauseated, with a slight but persistent headache as well. She almost never got headaches, and no potion or Muggle remedy she tried would relieve it. Her face in the mirror, formerly quite rosy in complexion, now appeared pale and peaky. It didn't help that she had such dark hair, which emphasized her pallid skin even more.

She opted to spend most of the day in her room, avoiding her parents and Kevin, not wanting any interrogations about her health. (She'd already been distancing herself from her father, ever since the fateful night of their werewolf discussion. She could hardly even look him in the eyes anymore, and mostly spoke to him when he was the one to initiate it.)

As she lay in her bed that afternoon, trying unsuccessfully to doze off for a nap, memories of her time at the Lupin home came drifting back to her. Waking up, fearful and disoriented, in the room with no doors... her initial meeting of the kind but quirky Rhiannon... struggling to accept the terrible revelation of her lycanthropy... seeing Professor Lupin the next morning, and their whole discussion of her situation... The memories were too vivid to have been a dream. But now I've found myself living inside a perpetual nightmare.

She felt a white-hot burst of anger. Why did all this extreme crap have to happen to her?! Why her?! It wasn't fair, it wasn't her fault, it just wasn't FAIR! She wanted to grab the heaviest object she could find and hurl it across the room with all her might, but she was now growing too tired to follow through on the impulse. It wasn't a sleepy kind of tired--her mind was wide awake--but it was an exhaustion that reached deep down inside her body, to the very marrow of her bones.

The effects of the curse.

Her thoughts returned, as they had many times, to pondering over the human identity of the monster that had attacked her. She wanted to believe the Lupins' claim that it was not her former professor who'd bitten her--he was too wise, too careful, too nice of a person to let his alter ego loose on the full moon... right? Marian had adored him the year she'd had him for Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Dumbledore obviously trusted the man as well, to hire him. Besides, he had his wife's help to make sure the wolf was contained. So it couldn't be him...

Then who was her malefactor? She supposed she would never know, because how on earth could she even go about searching, anyway? Werewolves looked exactly the same as everybody else most of the time, except generally more pale and sickly.

Which is how I'm going to be now... How will my friends not notice that? What can I tell them? I must be crazy, thinking I can simply return to Hogwarts and pretend like nothing has happened, and expect my secret to remain undetected. Am I losing it completely? Maybe I shouldn't return at all-- and then she caught herself. Marian Caldwell, if you don't return to Hogwarts, what are you going to do? Be a bum on the street? Get some awful, low-paying job and struggle to make ends meet for the rest of your life? There's no way you can live like that. You are not a quitter! You have to return to school.

She sighed. She'd known that all along, but it would be hard... and she was scared--so scared right now.

As the day progressed, her anxiety only increased. Remaining unable to take a nap, she finally decided to get out of the house and go on a bike ride through town. She returned home just in time for dinner, and thankfully as she washed up in the bathroom she saw that her pale cheeks were flushed pink again from the exertion of the ride. Her parents didn't seem to notice that anything was wrong with their daughter, or at least they didn't question her about it if they did. That was a small relief to her.

That night in bed, she was once again unable to tear her gaze away from the menacing silvery moon. Like the eye of a vast, shadowy creature that had stretched itself across the sky to block out all daylight (and with it all hope), the moon watched her. They were two enemies staring each other down on the eve before battle--and this was one fight that Marian hopelessly knew she could not win. Once her foe had attained its complete strength and fullness...

Come to think of it, the moon appeared almost full already. It was so close to a perfect circle that she began to grow nervous and tremble all over. What if the calendar was wrong, and it was really tonight...? Just the thought of that made her whole body tense up; and she lay there, rigid, for quite some time. At last she realized that if the transformation was going to happen tonight, it would have already taken place. She forced herself to relax and to close her eyes. Just don't think about the moon, she told herself. Forget about the moon. Go to sleep... forget the moon...

Yeah, right.

* * *

"Honey, are you okay? You don't look very well," said her mother concernedly the next afternoon.

Marian glanced up from the sofa where she was lounging and watching TV, and said for the millionth time, "I'm just tired, Mum; and I've got a bit of a headache, that's all. I took some aspirin for it; I'm sure it'll go away eventually."

Scrutinizing her daughter's wan face, Mrs. Caldwell pressed a hand to Marian's forehead to check her temperature. For a moment she looked as if she might make some further protestation, but at last she shrugged. "Well, you don't seem to have a fever... though you do feel a bit clammy. Don't overtax yourself today, poppet; and if you feel any worse, go lie down in bed. You can call me at the office if you need anything. I'm just going in for a few hours to finish typing up some reports."

Obediently Marian nodded, and she watched as her mother collected her purse and headed out the front door. After she'd heard the car drive away, Marian turned off the TV, which she hadn't been able to concentrate on anyway. It was a huge relief to have the house all to herself now; both parents were gone to work, and Kevin was at a friend's house again.

Her illness was getting harder and harder to hide from them, or to ignore. If she'd thought her headache was bad yesterday, today it had grown tenfold to a sharp, throbbing pitch. She felt vaguely dizzy whenever she stood up, and a general sense of nausea and weakness pervaded her body. But she knew that those symptoms would be nothing compared to...

Tonight. It's tonight. The miserable thought played over and over in her head. Tonight the curse would have its way, for the very first time, but it would only be the first of many, many to come--and there was nothing she could do. Nowhere to run... how could she escape an invisible foe that dwelt inside her own body? Looking down at herself, there was no visible sign that she could discern that made her any different from anyone else. No outward evidence to show that she carried such a terrible curse, and no foreshadowing of what was to come in a few short hours... Except maybe the bite mark on my leg, and the paleness of my face if I looked in the mirror.

She didn't care to do that. I'm still Marian, she asserted. Still Marian Rose Caldwell, same as I've always been, basically. I'm a person, not a beast or a monster! She couldn't bear to think of herself in those degrading terms, ever.

But your father can, a snide voice reminded her.

She fought back the tears. She was done crying over that issue. There was no way she was going to tell her parents her secret now, and she needed to focus her thoughts and energy on what was important: how to escape from the house this evening before moonrise. I have to come up with an excuse, and I'd better do it quick! I know I'll be going to the Lupins' place, but I can't tell Mum and Dad that, of course. I guess I could say that I'm going to sleep over at a friend's house. Like Jeannie, maybe. She lives the farthest away of my Muggle friends, but I can still ride my bike there with no problem. Hopefully Mum won't ask to talk to Jeannie's parents about this...

Well, she would just have to take that risk. What other choice did she have?

Slowly and carefully standing up from the sofa, Marian made her way toward the kitchen and the telephone. Her first thought was to call her mother and arrange the "sleepover" as soon as possible. But then another thought occurred to her, and she paused in her tracks. I should probably contact Rhiannon or Professor Lupin, too, and let them know that I'm coming, ahead of time. That would be the polite thing to do. And she decided to do it first. She headed back through the living room and over to the fireplace.

On a corner of the mantelpiece sat a discreet jar of Floo powder; and to any visiting Muggles it would simply appear to be an urn, a vase, or the like. She drew a small handful of the glittering powder from this container and reluctantly knelt down in front of the hearth. This was going to make her feel very dizzy, she knew, and she already had a headache... but she took a deep breath and tossed the Floo powder into the fireplace. Green flames sprang up immediately. Sticking her head right into them and feeling a warm, tickling sensation, she called out, "Lupins' Lair!" Then the whole world began to spin around her head, while her body remained firmly planted where she knelt on the hearth.

At last her head stopped spinning--although it did continue throbbing--and she found herself looking up into the sitting room where a month ago she'd had her long chat with her former professor about lycanthropy. The room was currently empty, but as she tentatively called out, "Rhiannon? Professor?", the former soon entered the room.

"Marian," said Rhiannon, looking a bit surprised but smiling nonetheless, "how are you doing?" She crouched down in front of the fireplace.

Marian hesitated before saying, "Well...you might be able to guess how I'm doing, seeing as tonight is..." she couldn't finish her sentence.

Rhiannon nodded soberly. "Yes, pardon the question--I can see that you're feeling as ill as my husband is right now."

"Is he around?" Marian wondered.

"Sleeping in the bedroom," Rhiannon said, waving a hand in that general direction. "But what brings you here--or your head here, at least?"

Again Marian paused hesitantly before saying, "I was just wondering... would it be all right if I... if I came over tonight? I mean, because of--because I need to get away from home."

"I take it you haven't told your parents your secret, then," Rhiannon said shrewdly.

Marian nodded miserably and then related the story of her talk with her father.

When she had finished, Rhiannon said, "I see... I'm so sorry that it had to turn out that way. Of course you can come over here. Do you know what time moonrise is?"

"Not exactly," said Marian, and so Rhiannon told her it was eight o'clock.

"You'd better give yourself a good hour to get here," the woman advised. "You won't need all that time, to be sure, but it's best to take liberal precautions, you know?"

"Right," said Marian, swallowing a large lump in her throat. "Well, I'd better go call my mum now and make my excuse about going over a friend's house for the night. Do you think... do you think one night is all I'll need?"

Now Rhiannon's face appeared slightly pained, and she spoke slowly. "Well... as this is your first transformation, I'd say it might even take two or three days for you to properly recover."

"Two or three days?" Marian practically gasped. "If I'm going to be gone that long, Mum will definitely want to talk to somebody's parents or something." She groaned. "What am I going to do?"

Rhiannon bit her lip and looked as if she were thinking hard, like Marian now was. At last she said, "I don't suppose--well, I think I'm a bit too young to pose as one of your friends' mothers..."

Oh. Now Marian saw which direction the woman's thoughts were heading. I wonder how old she is, anyway? About thirty? she mused. But she did, indeed, look too youthful to have a teenaged child.

Then Marian remembered something. "Last week I got a letter from my friend asking if I could meet her in Diagon Alley today, and I had to make up an excuse why I couldn't go. I told her I was taking a weekend camping trip with my family. Maybe... maybe I could tell my parents I'm going camping with a friend's family this weekend."

"That's an idea," Rhiannon said, nodding slowly.

"But they're still going to want to talk to an adult," Marian continued. "They do know what most of my friends' parents look like, too, but what if... what if you said that you were my friend's aunt or something?" She could tell that a note of desperation had entered her voice, but she was past caring.

To her relief, Rhiannon Lupin agreed. "That might work," the woman said, "and I'm certainly willing to help you out. But, Marian, how is this all going to be done? In person? Over the telephone? The Floo network? You don't have a stand-in for a friend, either."

Now Marian's thoughts were rapidly churning, trying to formulate some kind of scheme to work the situation out--but her head was still aching, and her knees were beginning to as well, from kneeling on the hearthstone for so long. She was hardly in prime condition to be able to think up a plausible deception, and she berated herself for not doing it days earlier.

After several more minutes of tossing around a few different ideas and variations on them, she and Rhiannon together finally managed to devise a likely enough story to tell Marian's parents. Rhiannon, in her role of "Aunt Sarah", would use the fireplace to talk to Mrs. Caldwell when she returned home from work; and Marian would tell her mother that the camping trip was with one of her Wizarding friends' families--Jacinda's, to be precise (who did have an Aunt Sarah). That way, since her mum didn't fully understand the magical community and its ways, she would be more gullible and more likely to accept Marian's story and give her permission. Marian knew she was taking advantage of her mother's Muggle status, but at the same time she felt lucky that she could do this.

Once the plan was fully laid out, she thanked Rhiannon profusely and pulled her head back out of the fireplace. This time the spinning sensation was worse than ever, and she nearly collapsed on the hearth as she made to stand back up. Aching and queasy all over, she only hoped now that she could convince her mother that she was in good enough shape to go on a camping trip...

Time to break out the make-up and put some color back in my cheeks. And she headed off to the bathroom to prepare.