gildcdmind

[gildcdmind]

WHO marlene mckinnon & OPEN WHEN 25.12.30 (christmas with the order) WHERE outside 12 grimmauld place

She's going to hurl. In typical Marlene fashion, she had drank and drank and drank if only to just show off that she could hold her liquor as well as everyone else seemed to. But all of that and she still didn't quite understand how she was standing here. Bloodied crescent-moons dug into her palms, her own reminder to herself that she was in fact standing here. She was standing here.

Sunset-flushed, with ruffled hair, and breath panting out in small, burning clouds against the night air, she stumbles her way away from the party and to a quieter part of the street. She can barely see straight when she bends over, her stomach starting to bubble and boil its way past her tongue and straight into the bushes, the sounds of retching the only thing cutting through the silence. She hated it—hated the weakness in it—but she could not stop. The goblet remains clenched in her grip, as though it alone could tether her to this world, this moment, this fleeting shred of something resembling life. But even as her stomach writhes, her fingers tighten around the chalice with desperate conviction.

Her hands are shaking when she straightened back up and out of the corner of her eye she sees – in her spinning, fluorescent world – a figure standing opposite her. Another gulp of her drink seemed necessary, and she doesn't even care that her mouth was still coated with the thick taste of vomit. Her eyes flicker up to theirs, the back of her hand dragging across her mouth in a half-assed attempt to seem decent.

Her lips twitch into something that resembled a grin, “Ah, well. A second chance at life and this is what I do with it—big surprise.” Her voice cracks slightly, but she brushes it off. She takes another swig from her goblet, almost as if to prove a point.

“I should probably start charging admission for the entertainment, don’t you think? I’ve got all the drama and none of the dignity.” The words coming out more challenge than apology. A short bark of laughter passing through her lips, the sound brittle and unfamiliar. She tries to steady herself, and then gave a little shrug before allowing the wall beside her to take her weight. It was an offer of nothing—no excuse, no reason. Just her, standing in the hollow silence of the street, still wearing the remnants of the life she no longer knew how to live.

[gildcdmind]

WHO electra lestrange & OPEN WHEN 01.01.31 (feast at lestrange manor) WHERE lestrange manor

There’s the soft glow of flickering candlelight bathing Lestrange Manor, its warm light dancing like the last breath of a fading dream. In the foyer outside the grand hall, the silence is heavy, broken only by the hushed sound of servants moving about, their footsteps muffled on the black-tiled floors. Electra stands poised before the foyer mirror, her reflection a perfect study in controlled elegance—each strand of dark hair arranged with precision, every crease in her robes smoothed to immaculate perfection.

Her fingers brush the silver pendant nestled against her collarbone—a piece of her family’s history, a chain of both pride and poison. It’s cold against her skin, and with each passing day, she feels its weight more keenly.

Recent events have cast a pall over her carefully constructed world. The dead have returned, the veil has shattered, and the air hums with the sharp thrum of inevitability. There’s unrest in the wind, but what unsettles her more is the restless churn within herself. The Wraiths have grown more powerful, but their unity is delicate, and with it, so are the thin threads of her control.

Her gaze lingers on her reflection, searching for something—some flicker of the woman she used to be, perhaps, or the woman she could have been. The woman before the poison had fully taken root. Her lips twist into a tight smile reflexively. But there’s no going back now, is there?

It’s then, from the edges of the room, where the shadows are thickest, that she feels it. A presence. A movement—subtle, fleeting, yet undeniable. Her gaze flickers, sharp as a dagger's edge, catching the figure that lurks just beyond the periphery of the candlelight. Electra’s lips quirk into a smile, one that’s at once a challenge and a beckoning. Her voice, when it emerges, is rich with languid mockery as she catches their gaze in the mirror.

"You know, it’s rude to lurk, darling. If you’re waiting for an invitation, I’m afraid you’ve missed your chance," she purrs, her tone languorous, the words heavy in the air between them. "If you wanted to be invisible, you should’ve stayed home."

[gildcdmind]

❥     𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒    [   𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂    ]   .

headcanon prompts with questions based on plants   &   what they represent in flower language .  happy roleplaying !!  ♡

abatina :   is there anything in life your muse has changed their mind about over time   (   due to becoming more educated on the topic ,   certain experiences  ,   etc .   ) ,    or that they   would   change their mind about under certain circumstances ?  

acanthus :   is your muse deceptive ,   or willing to lie or deceive to achieve certain means ?   why or why not ?   

aloe :   how does your muse handle grief ?

amaryllis :   what is something or someone that your muse takes pride in ?   how do they express that pride ?   

anemone :   how does your muse view the world ;   as a cruel   &   unforgiving place ,   a land full of wonders ,   or something in - between ?  where does that world view come from   (   what experiences ,   life lessons ,   etc .   ) ?  

angelica :   where does your muse draw inspiration in life ?   what motivates them ?

apple blossom :   how does your muse go about expressing or not expressing their sexuality ?  

bachelor’s button :   does your muse actively seek romantic companionship ,   or cherish the liberties of being single ? 

basil :   does your muse have a love - hate relationship with anyone or anything ?

bay tree :   does your muse seek glory   &   accolades ,   or do they favour a simpler ,   more personal life ?  

begonia :   how cautious is your muse ?   are they prone to noticing red flags ,   or paranoid to the point of untrusting most everyone ?   why or why not ?  

belladonna :   how does your muse respond to silence ?   do they take comfort in soundlessness ,   or seek to fill the void with noise ?   

bluebell :   does your muse learn from their past ,   or are they prone to repeating the same mistakes ?  

carnation :   what is your muse’s relationship with their gender ?   how do they express or not express this relationship ?  

chamomile :   what is your muse likely to take away from a painful experience ?   are they one to be haunted by adversity ,   or to use what they’ve gone through to become stronger ?  

chrysanthemum :   how does your muse express romantic love ?  how do they feel about love as a concept ?  

daffodil :   is your muse one to be loyal in relationships ,   or are they likely to quickly move from one bond to another ?

daisy :   did your muse ever feel as though their innocence had been lost ?   what moment in their life could be described as the end of their innocence ?  

edelweiss :   what was the bravest moment in your muse’s life ?  are they known to be courageous from then on ?  

fern :   does your muse believe in magic or cosmic forces ,   or are they more likely to think their life is ultimately a matter of their own control ?  

forget - me - not :   has your muse ever forgotten something that is or was important to them ?   are they afraid of forgetting things like that ?  

gardenia :   is your muse one to confess romantic feelings early on ,   or to conceal them for long periods of time ?  

gladiolus :   describe a moment from your muse’s life that they will never forget .

goldenrod :   does your muse believe in luck or fortune ?  why or why not ?   where do they believe these things come from ?  

heliotrope :   does your muse believe in soulmates ?

hibiscus :   how does your muse view the gentler ,   daintier things in life ?   as things worth preserving   &   caring for ,   or things only bound to wither   &   disappear ?  

holly :   how strong is your muse’s sense of intuition ?  are they aware of it ?   do they ever fear that it is only paranoia ?  

hollyhock :   how strong is your muse’s sense of ambition ?  what’s something they strive for in life ?  

hyacinth :   is your muse athletic ?   does it come naturally to them ,   or have they had to work for their physique and/or skill ?  

hydrangea :   how much does your muse value communication in their relationships with others ?  are they prone to being misunderstood ?

iris :   if your muse could convey one last message to someone they have lost or left behind ,   what would it be ?  

ivy :   what are your muse’s views on marriage ?   do they believe it is something strictly for love ,   or an institution rooted in business   &   social benefits ?   do they desire or have they desired to be married ?

lavender :   how easy is it to gain your muse’s trust ?  once their trust is broken ,   how might one go about mending it ?  

lilac :   what was your muse’s childhood like ?   how has their upbringing affected them as they’ve aged ? 

lily :   how does your muse view their mother ?  

lotus :   has your muse ever felt as though they’ve been reborn ?  have they ever desired the feeling of a fresh start ,   or a better understanding of themself and/or the world around them ?  

magnolia :   describe your muse’s relationship with nature   &   the natural world .  

marigold :   is your muse prone to jealousy ?  how might they handle envious feelings ?  

mint :   does your muse view themself as virtuous   &   moral ?  what do these words mean to them ?

nasturtium :   describe your muse’s relationship with their birthplace ,   or homeland .  

oak :   who would your muse consider the strongest person they know ?  

pansy :   does your muse often reflect on their own actions ?   do they ever think a lot about the past ,   and what they could have done differently ?

parsley :   describe a holiday your muse enjoys ,   and why they enjoy it .

peony :   what would a   ‘  happy life  ’   look like in your muse’s eyes ?

poppy :   what comforts your muse ?

rhododendron :   is your muse receptive to warnings   &   advice given by others ?

rose :   how much does your muse value other people ?   do they wish to have many friends ,   lovers ,   and/or associates ?   are they an easy person to love ?

sage :   what is your muse’s legacy ?   what do they want to be remembered for   &   what might they actually be remembered for ?  

salvia :   is your muse possessive over people or things that matter a lot to them ?  how do they express that possessiveness ,   or lack thereof ? 

snapdragon :   is your muse merciful ?  why or why not ?

southernwood :   how seriously does your muse take themself ?   do they prefer a solemn   &   intellectual atmosphere or do they delight in jokes   &   banter ?  

sunflower :   what brings your muse the most joy in life ?  

tulip :   how does your muse view people in general ?  

violet :   how does your muse respond to betrayal ?

willow :   how does your muse handle sadness   &   depression ?

zinnia :   how has the loss of fallen comrades and/or loved ones affected your muse ?   has it taught them anything or given them any new perspectives ?

[gildcdmind]

about electra.

call me medusa for my monstrosity is not mine to bear, but yours to fear.

personal. name: electra lestrange age and birthday: twenty-seven, august 28 gender: cis female sexuality: openly bisexual occupation: university student, studying alchemy allegiance: the wraiths family: father; birthplace: london, england residence: london, england languages known: english, french, latin, italian

physical. faceclaim: ella purnell style preference: clothes made of silk and satins, expensive jewellery and sky-high heels, red lipstick and perfectly curled hair tattoos: na

personality. zodiac: virgo mbti: intj-a alignment: neutral evil enneagram: the challenger good: articulate, confident, independent, charismatic, methodical bad: aloof, emotional, delusional, patronising, exploitative neutral: ambitious, intelligent, reserved, calculating, extravagant fears: losing control of both herself or the situation, death self-esteem: electra radiates a quiet confidence and generous amounts of self-assurance. she has a very grandiose sense of self-worth, believing her abilities are infinite. she will never admit being wrong about something or apologize for her actions because knowing she’s wrong and accepting she’s wrong or two completely different things.

personality, a deep dive. silent venom, deadly charm; electra’s words are carefully chosen, calculated to strike where it hurts most. her charm is a weapon—sweet, almost intoxicating at first, but laced with poison the moment you drink it in. she’s learned to manipulate with a smile, to bend others to her will with the softest touch, all while hiding the venom beneath. behind her alluring beauty and measured grace lies a mind that never stops calculating, a strategist always thinking five moves ahead. she’s a master of the subtle art of control, using charm not just to win, but to dominate, without ever seeming to break a sweat. yet, for all her mastery over others, electra remains distant, a queen in her own kingdom of shadows, never fully allowing herself to be known.

calculating empathy; electra may seem cold and ruthless, but her ability to empathize with others is one of her greatest tools. she’s not driven by compassion, but she has a keen understanding of what makes people tick. she can read a person’s needs, fears, and desires with uncanny accuracy, and she uses this knowledge to manipulate and control. in her mind, empathy is a currency—something to be spent strategically. she may not feel for others the way most would expect, but she knows when to use empathy to her advantage, knowing how to soothe or stir others’ emotions to get what she wants. her capacity to understand others, despite her attempt at emotional detachment, makes her even more dangerous—because she knows how to push all the right buttons to turn people into pawns on her chessboard.

haunted by the past; there’s a part of electra that quietly mourns the relationships she’s lost in her climb to power. her connection with iphigenia, once filled with warmth and understanding, now seems like a distant dream. even her rivalry with orestes has turned into something darker—an estranged relationship where the bonds of family have been broken. deep down, electra yearns for real connection, the kind of unconditional love she once shared with her sister. she doesn’t know how to repair these bonds, and part of her is too proud to admit she needs to. yet, a small part of her still longs to reconcile, to find some redemption in the broken pieces of her relationships. but she keeps that part buried, too afraid of what it would mean to let someone in again.

magical. status: pureblood house: slytherin wand: 11.5″, vine wood, dragon heartstring, hard boggart: herself, dead. cassandra considers herself invincible so the mere concept of her dying – something so out of her control – frightens her. rune: mental enhancement rune; this rune grants extraordinary powers of legilimency and the imperius curse, making electra an even more effective manipulator. amortentia: aftershave, a smoky wine, roses best discipline: transfiguration / nonverbal magic / necromancy worst discipline: wandmaking / herbology

backstory.

chapter one: the first drop

Electra Lestrange’s life began with poison—not the kind that kills quickly, but the kind that seeps into the bloodline. The Lestranges were masters of it: their legacy a potent brew of power, pride, and manipulation. From the moment Electra drew her first breath within the cold, shadowed halls of Lestrange Manor, she was marked by it.

As the second-born, she was not the heir, but her father saw in her an untamed potential. “You will be my greatest work,” he once said, a chilling promise that shaped her existence. Her mother was more subtle, planting seeds of doubt and ambition in equal measure. “Strength lies in silence,” she would whisper, pressing a cold hand to Electra’s cheek. “A woman who speaks too freely invites others to poison her words.”

Electra’s childhood was both a gilded cage and a crucible. Her older brother, Orestes, was the golden son. She, on the other hand, was the experiment—a child whose sharp mind and sharper tongue fascinated and frustrated her parents. Their praise was rare and always barbed: a reward laced with expectation. In the rare moments of solace, Electra found herself drawn to her younger sister, Iphigenia, whose warmth and sincerity seemed untouched by their family’s toxicity. But even as a child, Electra felt the poison in her veins: a simmering ambition, a hunger for validation, and a sense that love could never be freely given or received.

chapter two: absorption

As Electra grew, her parents’ lessons became more exacting. Every day was a refinement of her skills: in dueling, diplomacy, and deceit. “The world is a game of venom and antidote,” her mother told her once, brushing Electra’s hair. “You must be both to survive.”

Her father took her under his wing, teaching her the politics of pureblood alliances. He believed in power through control, and Electra learned quickly that love, like power, was a tool best wielded sparingly. With every triumph—a flawless hex, a masterful negotiation—she felt his pride, but it came with a cost: the further alienation of her siblings.

Hogwarts was the perfect crucible for her, a place where she could hone her skills of manipulation and control while slowly, almost imperceptibly, drifting away from the possibility of ever forming genuine human connections. She was too focused on her studies, her power, her ambition—too absorbed by her own world to allow anyone inside. But deep down, buried beneath her calculated exterior, a small, tender part of her still yearned for something more—a connection, perhaps, that wasn’t built on manipulation. Yet, she quickly learned to stifle that longing. After all, power and control were the only things that mattered.

chapter three: paralysis

By her seventeenth year, Electra was no longer a girl but a weapon sharpened by her parents’ ambitions. When she failed to secure an alliance her father had carefully cultivated, his disappointment was like a toxin in her bloodstream, paralyzing and inescapable.

This failure was a turning point. Electra vowed never to falter again. She immersed herself in her studies, mastering the arts of manipulation and charm. She learned to read people as one reads potion ingredients: discerning their weaknesses, their desires, and the precise formula needed to bend them to her will.

But the cost of her ambition became evident in her relationship with Orestes. Their father’s attention was a prize that neither was willing to relinquish, and their once-innocent sibling rivalry curdled into something darker. Orestes accused her of embodying the worst of their family’s legacy, and Electra, wounded, retaliated with the only weapon she had left: her words. “You hate me because I’m what you could never be,” she hissed. “Strong enough to survive.”

chapter four: a poisoned heart

By twenty-five, Electra had transformed herself into a force to be reckoned with. As a key strategist for the Wraiths, a clandestine collective of pureblood elites led by her cousin Orion, she wielded influence like a toxin—subtle, deadly, and inescapable.

Her beauty became her most potent weapon, her charm the sweet taste that masked the poison beneath. Yet the very skills that elevated her left her isolated. Relationships were transactions, alliances mere calculations. Even Iphigenia, ever forgiving, seemed distant, her warmth dimmed by Electra’s growing coldness. Orestes had become her rival in all but name, their battles playing out in political maneuverings and whispered threats. Though she would never admit it, Electra missed the simpler days of their childhood, when the only poison between them was an innocent rivalry.

Despite her triumphs, Electra felt the toll of her choices. The poison she wielded so expertly had seeped into her soul, leaving her hollow.

chapter five: lethal dose

At twenty-seven, Electra stood at the height of her power, but the victory felt bitter. The Wraiths revered her, and her name was whispered with both fear and admiration, yet she was more alone than ever. Her cousin Orion, whose ambitions mirrored her own, became a reflection of everything she despised and desired. The Wraiths, like her family, thrived on secrets and betrayals. Electra began to see herself in their machinations, a queen presiding over a kingdom of shadows.

In rare, unguarded moments, she allowed herself to dream of another life—a life where Iphigenia’s hope wasn’t a distant memory, where Orestes wasn’t her enemy, and where her parents’ expectations didn’t weigh on her every breath. But these dreams were fleeting, banished as quickly as they arose. Electra had chosen her path, and she knew there was no antidote. The poison that had shaped her was no longer a curse but a part of her identity. To abandon it would be to abandon herself.

And so, she raised the poisoned chalice to her lips, drinking deeply of her own legacy. She was a Lestrange, after all, and poison was both her burden and her power.

wanted plots.

"You’re so busy trying to be my hero, you never stop to think that maybe you’re the villain." ; a mirror. electra crosses paths with someone from her past (or a new individual) who has been shaped by the same values, but in a more extreme or toxic manner. this person could be a former mentor or a peer from her youth, someone whose obsession with power, control, or cruelty has gone even further than electra’s own. This figure could push her to confront what she could become if she continues down her path of ruthlessness, making her realize that her coldness might lead to her eventual isolation and destruction. their relationship could begin as admiration or fascination, with electra feeling intrigued by the person’s confidence or power, but over time, it reveals the true cost of embracing complete emotional detachment.

"I loved you, but I loved myself more" ; a previous relationship, potential betrothal? electra’s past is likely filled with brief, transactional relationships, where love is a tool rather than an emotion. however, a former lover who might have known her before she became fully consumed by power could re-enter her life, forcing electra to confront the part of her that still longs for genuine connection. this lover might have been someone electra genuinely cared for at one point—maybe someone who was destroyed by her ambition or left because they couldn’t endure her coldness. the ex-lover might return seeking revenge or closure, confronting electra with the consequences of her calculated manipulation. or there could be an emotional tug-of-war, with electra feeling the pull of the past while trying to keep her guard up, fearing that letting someone in would weaken her.

"The higher you build your barriers, the taller I become" ; an adversary in the ranks. a charismatic and ambitious new member of the wraiths rises through the ranks, challenging electra's control over the group. this individual is sharp, manipulative, and knows how to turn electra’s own tricks against her, potentially becoming a threat to her influence. they might even attempt to manipulate electra emotionally, possibly by using her vulnerabilities or by showing interest in a romantic or intellectual capacity.

"We are all monsters, but only some of us wear masks." ; a ghost from the past. someone from electra’s past—perhaps a childhood friend or even a former ally—returns, someone who has been silently observing her rise to power, waiting for the right moment to make their move. this individual could know all of electra’s secrets, including the more tender parts of her past, and holds a certain amount of power over her. at first, electra views them as a mere threat, but over time, their connection becomes more complicated. this person could either serve as a rival or a potential ally—someone who challenges her in ways she doesn’t expect.

[gildcdmind]

about marlene.

if only the stars contained me. if only everything kept happening in such a way that the so-called world opposed the so-called flesh.

personal. name: marlene ai mckinnon age and birthday: twenty-four, march 30 gender: cis female sexuality: openly bisexual occupation: university student, studying care of magical creatures allegiance: the order of the stag family: father; douglas mckinnon - world war ii veteran, now dragonologist [deceased] | mother; meilin mckinnon (nee tcheng) - diplomatic envoy at french ministry of magic [deceased] | siblings; angus mckinnon [deceased], alastair mckinnon [deceased], rowan mckinnon [deceased] birthplace: killin, scotland residence: in childhood, killin, scotland & marseille, france; now london, england languages known: english, french

physical. faceclaim: natasha liu bordizzo style preference: very “effortless indie rock” mixed with "hippie lovechild", long skirts and doc martens, oversized denim jackets and daisy dukes, no makeup and unstyled hair tattoos: a small "a" on her wrist, a rising sun on her bicep scars/beauty marks: many, many scars ranging from quidditch practice when she was younger to much darker battles as part of the order

personality. zodiac: aries mbti: estp-t alignment: chaotic neutral enneagram: the challenger good: determined, strategic, loyal, adventurous, humorous bad: scathing, insulting, impulsive, emotionally-detached, envious neutral: daring, ambitious, intense, straight-forward, fearless fears: losing those close to her, never being good enough self-esteem: marlene projects confidence and is shamelessly herself, rough edges and all. insecurity settles in her blind spots in the form of jealousy and the feeling of never being enough. she struggles with dissecting her emotions and properly understanding them. to make up for this, she’s constantly on the defense, putting up a wall of fire to prevent anyone, including herself from reading too deeply into her.

personality, a deep dive. sharp tongue, sharper insight; marlene’s humor is quick and often scathing—her sharp tongue a weapon as dangerous as any spell. but beneath that biting sarcasm and bravado is a mind that picks up on everything. she’s perceptive, able to read between the lines and catch the things others try to hide. her sharpness doesn’t just come from her words; it’s also in her ability to see right through a person, to understand their motives, desires, and weaknesses without them ever saying a word. while she often uses this insight as a shield, marlene isn’t blind to her own contradictions. she knows when she’s pushing people away with her words, and she does it anyway, because allowing herself to be vulnerable feels like a weakness she can’t afford.

pride and shame: the unseen tug-of-war; marlene’s pride runs deep. she doesn’t ever want to admit she’s wrong or that she needs help. admitting vulnerability feels like admitting failure—a weakness that she cannot bear. this is a constant internal struggle for her, as the emotions she tries so desperately to ignore—shame, guilt, sadness—are always knocking at the door. her pride makes it hard for her to accept help, even when she’s drowning. but when she finally does, it’s not because she’s learned to ask for it—it’s because she’s been broken open. sometimes, the cracks she fights so hard to keep closed are the only things that allow her to grow.

unyielding love; despite her walls and her sharp edges, marlene’s heart is enormous. it’s raw, untamed, and it burns with a fierce desire to love, to protect, and to fight for what is right. she may not always show it, but marlene feels things deeply. she’s not one for soft words, but the care she shows is no less profound. when she chooses to let someone in, they get the whole of her. her affection may come in the form of a joke, an insult, or a challenge, but underneath it all, there’s a burning desire to give all of herself. for those she loves, marlene would set the world on fire just to see them smile.

magical. status: pureblood house: gryffindor wand: 10.5" cherry wood, phoenix tail feather, unyielding boggart: herself, struggling against invisible bonds, alone, screaming for help. one of her greatest fears is being abandoned by everyone she loves and left for dead. patronus: tiger. a very strong, independent patronus. they have a fierce personality to them that they show openly, and have no problem doing it. however, there is more to them than just an impression, they have parts of their past that are a bit dark, and that has caused them to grow a bit cynical. they don’t like to show their feelings to others, as they like to maintain the impression for themselves and for others that they are unbreakable. they are not fast to warm up to anyone, but once they do they will protect you with all that they have. amortentia: fresh dirt, campfires, her mother’s perfume best discipline: offensive magic / transfiguration / potions worst discipline: medi-magic / astronomy

backstory. (tw child death) chapter one: ignition

From the moment she was born, Marlene McKinnon was a spark, a restless flicker in the dark. she was the darling daughter her family was praying for. Her parents, so vastly different in nature, met in the blaze of war—her father, a war hero who fought alongside Muggles in WWII, and her mother, a French diplomat whose elegance and wit were admired throughout the nation.

Theirs was a love forged in the fires of war, a collision of steel and silk that burned brightly enough to defy the odds. When Marlene was born, she became the living embodiment of their passion—a tempestuous child whose spirit seemed to promise something greater. Her father, ever steadfast and visionary, looked at her and saw the fire that would one day carve her path. Her mother, though full of dreams for Marlene’s grace, elegance, and refinement, could only watch as her daughter’s spirit raged against those confines. She was a tempest in the making—always too much, always too wild.

“She’s a fierce one,” Her father had said the day Marlene first wrapped her tiny fingers around his thumb. His voice, weathered but warm, held a note of pride. “A spark, just like her mother.”

Her mother had smiled softly, her gaze never leaving Marlene. “She’s more than that, mon amour. She’s a flame—one that will burn brighter than either of us could dream.”

chapter two: kindling

As a child, Marlene was always surrounded by the warmth of family. She had two older brothers—Alastair and Rowan— who, though older, were her entire world. The trio were an unstoppable force, united in their defiance of authority and their endless curiosity. They ran wild through the countryside, their laughter echoing like embers crackling in a hearth. Yet, even in their mischief, there was a silent understanding: Marlene was the spark, and they were the sturdy kindling that fed her flames.

Then, when she was three, her youngest brother, Angus, was born. The soft, smiling boy with his innocent wonder seemed to calm her spirit. From the moment she held him, her heart swelled with fierce love, a vow imprinted on the back of her heart to protect him from the world's storms. But not even that could stave off the inevitable. She was twelve when Angus fell ill with dragon pox. When his chest fell for the last time, there began a smolder behind her ribcage with a kind of agony she'd never felt before.

chapter three: inferno

Her brother's death was a strike of lightning, sudden and shattering. The spark in Marlene that had once burned with youthful defiance now became an all-consuming inferno, churning with grief, guilt, and anger. Her parents, whose marriage had once been a testament to love’s endurance, crumbled under the weight of their loss. Her mother retreated, locking herself away in sorrow, and her father, the stalwart soldier, drowned his pain in silence. There was a chasm that opened between her and her brothers, keeping them all stranded lonely and yearning in their own circles of Hell.

By now, the world had known her—reckless, bold, and full of laughter that could shake the walls of Hogwarts. She made her name not just through her wit but through the sheer intensity of her spirit, always charging headfirst into life’s chaos. Her words were as fiery as her heart, and her temper could ignite a room, but beneath that wild energy was an unshakable loyalty to those she loved. But it all changed after the incident. Detentions and fights, where you found trouble, you found Marlene.

It wasn’t until the summer after her third year that the walls began to close in. Her parents received countless owls from the school, urging them to guide their daughter before she threw her life away. Marlene’s rebellion, once a source of pride, began to feel like a burden, a fire that consumed her and left nothing but ash behind.

chapter four: smolder

The weight of her future, and the worry it stirred, pulled the family from their collective grief, forcing them to confront the unraveling threads of their lives. Her father, despite his sorrows, took her to work with him caring for magical creatures—teaching her patience, discipline, and the importance of control. Her mother, whose love had always been fierce and tender, took her to her own motherland of France, where strong women with their own stories of defiance and rebellion breathed new life into her.

“Strength isn’t just about burning brightly,” Her mother had told her over tea one afternoon. “It’s about knowing when to smolder and when to ignite.”

In the chaos of it all, Marlene found her brothers once again, their bond solidified by shared loss, their laughter a reminder of the strength they still carried. For the first time in her life, Marlene understood that the fire within her didn’t need to burn everything to the ground—she learned that to live was to burn.

chapter five: ashes

It seemed that life had already dealt her so many blows, yet it was still unrelenting, still cruel in ways she couldn't have foreseen. Her parents and older brothers were taken by a curse—struck down in a brutal, merciless attack, their lives extinguished in an instant. She had been miles away, too far removed from the storm she had felt whispering in the air. Her heart had sensed it, a creeping dread that gnawed at her edges, but she had been too absorbed in her own business heed the warning. Marlene was left alone to carry their names and their legacy, the weight of their absence heavier than anything she could bear.

But she would not let their death be the end of her. Marlene had always been a flame—a bright, unpredictable, and sometimes dangerous force. Now, with the last embers of her family smoldering in her chest, she realized that her fire was no longer just her own. It was theirs too. And she would burn brighter, fiercer, for them.

Her loss had forged something different in her. It had tempered the rage she had once known into a quiet, determined fury. She no longer shouted at the world, demanding it bend to her will. She was more deliberate now. More strategic. But beneath it all, that same untamable fire still burned. It was quiet at times, subdued, but never fully extinguished.

Her body fell amidst the chaos, but her spirit—unyielding, unbroken—was carried on the winds of memory. Marlene's sacrifice, though a quiet one, was no less profound, a silent testament to the indomitable will of a soul that refused to bend beneath the weight of war. Her name became another whispered legend of the First Wizarding War, a story told not with fanfare, but with reverence, a reminder that some flames, no matter how fleeting, are destined to burn brighter in the hearts of those they leave behind.

chapter six: the phoenix

But fate, it seemed, was not done with her. Death itself had a different plan. The veil, already gossamer-thin, trembled at the call of the Hallows, and in that tremor, Marlene found herself drawn back. Not reborn in the way the living would understand, but resurrected—her body, once broken, now remade, her soul returned to a world she had left behind. In her eyes, the world had changed, yet it was she who had changed the most. Her heart beat still, but it beat in a silence broken only by the whispers of the dead, and the faintest, most haunting echo of a fire that could never burn as brightly again.

For as the returned, Marlene was no longer a woman of flesh and bone, but a tool of fate, her existence bound to the whims of those who controlled the boundary between life and death. And yet, within her, the ember of defiance remained, waiting. Because though death had its grip on her, she had never been one to surrender. Not then, not now. And perhaps, just perhaps, the fire that had once given her life could be used to take it back.

wanted connections. “the devil’s voice speaks in the language of the heart” ; a member of the erinyes drawing her in. i think marlene could find herself torn between her loyalty to the order of the stag and the allure of the erinyes and this individual sees the darkness in marlene—her pain, her rage—and subtly encourages her to embrace it. they might offer her a way to use her grief as power, challenging her to throw away the moral constraints of her family’s legacy. the temptation they represent is dangerous because they understand her struggles better than anyone else, and they offer a solution to her frustration with justice. this could be someone who fought alongside her in the original Order or as part of the resistance, but who has since embraced the darker side

“I will find a way, or I will make one" ; a fellow grief survivor. this person could relate to marlene’s grief on a profound level, and their bond is built on mutual understanding and shared pain. they don’t need to speak much to each other to communicate their inner turmoil, yet they find solace in each other’s presence. their shared grief could lead to an unhealthy co-dependence, where both of them rely too heavily on each other to cope with their losses, hindering their emotional healing. alternatively, this relationship could evolve into something of a redemption arc for marlene, where she helps the other person find peace, thus healing a part of herself in the process.

"we could be heroes, just for one day” ; rival order member. in my head, this is someone who is from a different era than her. this person might challenge marlene’s views and decision-making, often questioning her recklessness or her approach to leadership. They could be an ally on the surface, but with a strong rivalry underneath. an initial thought was marlene could unexpectedly left in charge during a crucial mission when senior members are incapacitated. perhaps her decisions spark tension with the current leaders of the order once they return. while marlene proves her ability to lead under pressure, the aftermath reveals deep-rooted frustrations and differing philosophies about the order’s direction.

“Some sins cannot be washed away, but I will keep trying" ; the death eater that killed her. this would have been the last face marlene saw before she died. this could be an interesting relationship to build out whether the death eater that killed her was part of the resurrection and chose to defect or stayed aligned with the wraiths OR an relationship to build out with a child of her killer.

“the stories we grow up with are only the shadows of the real things that lived" ; an ally in a future generation. this could be interesting to explore with a character who was born after marlene's death, perhaps the child of one of her friends from the order or a young member of the resistance who only knows marlene as a figure of myth and legend. this person might look to her for guidance, but also be hesitant about the idea of befriending someone who has been returned from the dead.

“I lost you once, and now you’ve returned—but not in the way I imagined ” ; a soulmate lost in the veil. this could be someone who shared a deep, profound connection with marlene before her death—someone who might or might not have been a romantic partner, but in general, someone whose bond with her transcended typical friendship or family.

[gildcdmind]

gilcdmind. a dependant blog for @nobodyssoldier. penned by scar. featuring:

marlene mckinnon ; “It was not desire, not even its barest scrapings. It was a sort of rage, a knife I used upon myself. I did it to prove my skin was still my own. And did I like the answer I found?” intro and wanted connections, musings, threads

electra lestrange ; “I will always be the virgin-prostitute, the perverse angel, the two-faced sinister and saintly woman.” intro and wanted connections, musings, threads