felt as though she'd been through hell, Arizona and back.

She stiffened and stopped breathing when a familiar spark ignited in her muscles, making her feel as if her muscles were on fire and she was going to burn from inside out.

A moan of protest left her pale lips at the same moment the glass of water on the bedside table next to her shattered into tiny pieces.

But the girl paid no mind, as in a few moments, thankfully, the ringing in her ears subsided.

One of the first things she heard was a gasp and footsteps then a door being pulled open. A girl, she assumed, yelled at the top of her lungs which made Margaret want to chuck something large and heavy at her.

"MUM! SHE'S AWAKE! SHE'S AWAKE!"

Margaret's senses were going haywire as they had back when she had first got her powers, but there was an odd sting on the side of her neck that was making her left shoulder and left arm twitch.

Her breathing was ragged and she groaned again as the house shuddered with thunderous footsteps.

A moment later, there were soft voices around the room, coming closer and closer to where she laid. It was followed by a soft hand that caressed Margaret's forehead, tucking back some stray strands of her dark hair behind her ear.

Margaret tried to get a grip on herself, wondering since when had her father become so darn caring. She tried to pry her eyes open but it was as if they were glued shut.

"Oh, move back you all! Give her some space," says a woman who did not sound like her father in a bit. She might be saying it softly but each syllable seemed like a bullet to the girl's head.

Margaret exhaled softly, turning her face away from the general direction of the woman's voice and nuzzled into the soft pillow under her head but felt slightly guilty when the kind touch retracted.

Someone suddenly gasps, "Her neck! Harry, look at her-"

"I see it, I see it," mutters Harry, whoever that was, though his voice is laced with obvious fear. "Who is she? Can someone tell me what is-"

"Shhh!"

Thankfully, the people stopped talking and Margaret tried her best to gather her wits to deduce where the heck she was and what the heck were these people doing here. Trying to calm her breathing and racing heartbeat, she flinched slightly when the bed dipped, indicating that someone had sat down on her left.

There were voices in her head that are not her own thoughts, but those of the people that surrounded her. She tried to block them out and shut the walls of her brain, succeeding for the most part due to her self-training, just occasionally hearing 'how is this possible?' and 'who in Merlin's saggy pants is she?'

The latter confused Margaret enough to finally force her eyes open. Everything was bright and blurry and just as quickly she shut her eyes again.

No one said anything but she could hear their softest moments and smallest whispers due to her heightened senses. She ignored it and tried her best to remember when and where she had passed out.

The last thing that Margaret recalled was having dinner alone at night... then she went to bed. Yes, she did go to sleep. Though this didn't seem like her bed, the comforter didn't smell the same and neither was her bed so darn soft.

Shifting to her right and away from the person sitting next to her, the girl stiffened, expecting to feel the pain shoot down her spine but frowned when nothing came.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to continue her thought process, knowing that she had to open her eyes sooner or later and she really didn't want to ask these strangers how she ended up here.

Okay so, she went to bed at night, then did she wake up?

Yes, she did, she broke her stupid alarm again out of pure panic. Then what did she do? Everything seemed blurry...

"Margaret?" a soft unfamiliar voice speaks and the said girl realizes that it is the same lady sitting beside her. She stiffened but this time the movement made her left shoulder to twitch and her face scrunched up as sharp pain flares up her neck.

However, she did not let the distraction break her train of fuzzy thoughts and tried to remember what she did this morning. If it was this morning. Her eyebrows drew closer in concentration.

So, while making breakfast, Margaret noticed the thunderstorm outside and the heavy downpour but she had school so she had no choice but to leave. And after leaving some lunch for her father in the microwave, she did just that...

Perking up suddenly when her thoughts became more coherent by the passing second, Margaret found the courage to blink open her eyes. Not looking at anyone, she stared at the ceiling for a moment, seeing tinges of red on her still foggy peripheral.

And that's it!

She left her house with her schoolbag and an umbrella, planning to take the bus but before she could make it to the stop, she got struck by lightning.

Then it was all black.

She knew the feeling very well because she had felt it once when she was fourteen, and before losing consciousness, she was sure she heard the crackling roar above and maybe her own scream.

"Margaret?" asks the woman again, gently as ever, and Margaret turns her head slowly to look at her while blinking in an attempt to clear her eyesight.

The lady seemed to have a shade of ginger hair that Margaret had never seen before. She smiled at her warmly reaching out to take her shaking hand from her side.

However, as soon as their skin met, the woman yelped and pulled away, holding her hand close to her chest and looking down at it with wide eyes.

A moment behind her caught Margaret's attention as a couple of people - most of them with similar red hair - came closer to the bed with worry and confusion etched on their faces.

One of them, a girl shorter than the rest, asks concernedly, "Mum?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Just some defensive magic," she says dismissively but not unkindly.

Facing Margaret again, she gave her the same warm smile. Her foggy mind does not understand what the woman had just said but she instantly felt guilty.

Stupid powers. They rarely show up when she needed them to but always appeared to scare people away.

"S-sorry," the girl croaks, her throat dry as a desert.

Fisting her hands, she rested them on top of her abdomen, taking the moment to scan the other occupants of the room.

Her eyes linger on the only two non-redheads, one of them being a bushy-haired girl who was holding a thick book to her chest, frowning back at the strange girl with what seemed to be worry and curiosity; and another being a boy with round glasses and messy raven hair.

As soon as their eyes meet, he looked away, rubbing his calmly hands on his trousers before glancing at her neck briefly and averting his gaze again.

"Reparo. Aguamenti," the lady mutters causing Margaret to look back at her.

To her horror, the shards of the glass pieced themselves together and the container filled itself with water.

OH no. No, no, no, no, no.

Margaret Xenakis recognizes a spell when she hears one and for the life of her, she did not think that these people were Potterheads.

Almost choking on her own gasp, she sat up swiftly in panic and moved away from the strange lady, pressing herself closer to the headboard behind her to put as much distance between them. She blinked rapidly when the world tilted due to her quick moments.

The woman's eyebrows drew closer in confusion at the girls actions.

"Uh I- W-where... w-what was t-that?!" Margaret struggles to ask in her groggy voice, pointing at the glass of water in her hand.

"Oh," the woman mutters in realization, "A simple repairing and water spell, really. It is for you, darling."

She extended it towards the shaking girl but retracted unsurely when she shifted away again.

"S-spell?" she croaks, her voice getting higher with each syllable. "The hell? W-what spell? Where in the world a-am I? Who- who even are y-you?!"

"It's okay, I know this must be confusing for you but you're safe now. Drink some water, dear. You'll feel much better. And then we can answer all the questions, is that alright?" the lady says reassuringly.

Margaret forced herself to look at the others behind the red-head woman before she could believe her. Unlike the woman, most of them seemed uncomfortable, wary or curious by both her glimmering red eyes and weird demeanour.

"No," she shakes her head, still looking at the raven-haired boy who appeared as if he would very much like the floor to open up and swallow him rather than meet her eyes again.

Moving her gaze back to the woman she speaks sternly even as a knot forms in her throat. "Where am I?"

The woman sighed, setting the glass down at the bedside table. She then gave Margaret a sympathetic smile.

"My name is Molly Weasley and these are my children. You are in England, still. At Number Twelve Grimmauld Place."

All fight leaves her, shoulders slumping as she shot this 'Molly Weasley' a look of incredulity.

"Sure..." she drags. "Right, you all are really rude for playing a practical joke on a sick girl, you know? Where are the cameras?"

And as her eyes searched for the video cameras on the dressers, on the floor and even on the ceiling, she saw nothing except everyone glancing at each other in confusion and then at the strange girl as if she had grown two horns out of her skull.

"Practical joke?" the set of twins standing near the dresser, say in unison, their lips turned up disbelievingly.

Margaret snorts. "Yes, Fred and George. Now, it would be nice if I could go now. My father would be worried. Thanks for, um... your help."

Her father wouldn't care less but she had to get out of this strange place.

"Uh, Margaret?" the frizzy-haired witch speaks up, her brown eyes switching between the equally wide-eyed twins and the girl on the bed. "How do you know their names?"

Margaret's hands shook slightly as she pushed the comforter away, slightly relieved to find that she was still wearing the same jeans and black Cold Play tee that she had put on in the morning. Taking a deep breath to control her racing thoughts, she looked back at the twins and pointed them out.

"They're Fred and George?" Margaret questions, eyebrows rising upwards in fake interest. The girl nodded hesitantly causing her to scoff before sneering, "Yeah, right. Are Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort also going to pop up now or are the Weasleys the only ones at my service?"

Growing irritated by their obvious prank and unsettled by the unfamiliar surroundings, Margaret tried to find a way to get off of the bed, not noticing everyone's simultaneous winces at the name of the Dark Lord or how their faces paled as they stared at her with looks of utter shock.

Some brave ones also glanced at the raven-haired boy near the door concernedly when he looked like he might as well just faint from confusion with the way he leaned on the doorframe.

Sliding off the other side of the bed and trying to stand up tall at her 5'6 height, Margaret stumbled a little when her knees nearly buckled. She towered at least an inch over almost everyone in the room except the twins, the ginger-haired boy near the door and another man who seemed to be the older brother and looked like he wanted to rip her head from her shoulders.

That was almost what he did too with a stick that Margaret thought he wanted her to believe was a wand. However, just as he was about to make a move forward, two sets of footsteps interrupted him.

Knowing that she could easily defeat them all with a flick of her wrist, Margaret was not all that worried.

All she really cared about was why did these people think that they could fool her? And was she really in England? Last she remembered she was in her town in Canada...

The footsteps sound closer now and soon enough two more people entered the surprisingly big room - one of them had ruffled brown hair, a moustache, and shadows underneath his eyes that only enhanced the white scars on his already pale face; the other man had shoulder-length curly black hair and beard that framed his slightly wrinkled face with shiny but haunted dark eyes.

The latter put his hand on the raven-haired boy's shoulder and stood closer to him while the other stepped in further and inspected the new girl from afar.

"She doesn't believe us," states the redhead standing next to the bushy-haired girl exasperatedly.

"Well, of course, she doesn't. Dumbledore told us she'd be surprised-"

"There's a Dumbledore too?" Margaret can't help but ask, interrupting the brown-haired man. Her eyebrows shot up in wonder. She realised that she needs to know their names - their real names - for she can't keep referring to them by their hair colours.

"Yes," he replies calmly. "If you're feeling well, we could go downstairs. Dumbledore would like to have a word with you but he cannot be here at this time. There's good dinner to eat though, right, Molly?"

The woman got up from the bed, nodding. "Yes, yes. There is. I can even make anything you would like to have, dear."

These people seemed to be great actors. They didn't seem threatening at all even though there was something cautious about their approach.

"How do I believe you? You all... can't possibly... exist," she reasons, shaking her head almost to herself.

"Well, we are physically here, aren't we?" says one of the twins.

"How do I know you are who you claim to be? And with that stick too, if it really even works, that is!"

"Ah, would you believe us if we actually do magic?" the black-haired man standing beside the bespectacled boy pipes up, looking more excited than he should be. "We'd need to go out for that. I can show you."

"Sirius, no," Molly says sternly with her hands on her hips.

"Sirius, yes," the man mutters to himself, smiling brightly, looking creepier than Margaret could've ever imagined.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she declares in an instant, not sounding as scared as she was feeling, and watching as the man's shoulders slump.

"Sirius, no..." he mutters to himself again.

"Besides, if you really are Sirius Black, then you are under Dumbledore's orders to not leave your family's home," Margaret concludes, narrowing her eyes at him. "You'd never suggest that."

It baffled Margaret how good they were at their jobs of trying to fool her. Sharing surprised looks with each other when she says that and eying her suspiciously and what not.

"We don't have to go anywhere to do magic. Sirius here just hasn't seen daylight in a month and is eager to go out. Don't mind him," the scar-faced man tries to cover up, causing Margaret to shuffle back slightly when he removes his wand from his pocket. "Don't worry this won't hurt you."

"Yeah, okay," she replies, taking another step back and bracing herself to create a shield if he resorts to chucking the fancy stick at her.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

When all the furniture started floating, Margaret did not seem amused at all. That was probably one of the most predictable things she had ever seen.

She gave the man a no-nonsense look and his face fell at the sight of it. He charmed the furniture to settle back down. A moment later, Molly flicked her own stick and all the stray items set themselves on their proper places.

"Right... impressive. Can I leave now?"

"Not yet!" Sirius exclaims, a stick of his own in hand. "I have a trick or two."

As he was doing his thing, blabbering spells to materialise a chair out of thin air, then some flowers, and then for some reason, a bag of dead rats; it occurred to Margaret that she might be amid hooligans but she could use her powers to hear their thoughts to at least find out why they were doing this and on who's orders.

So she emptied her mind of thoughts and focused.

First, she heard the thoughts of the brown-haired man with scars- 'this is not going to work... why did Dumbledore have to leave us with no instructions at all? Alright, what are other spells that would prove we are wizards, good wizards, and not scare the girl at all?'

Then the lady named Molly - 'Oh dear, that smells terrible... I feel bad for the poor girl. She's gone through enough as it is... Now, if only we could get her downstairs and feed her up... she looks like she could use some homemade pie...'

The tall man with long red hair who nearly attacked her seemed to have his mind elsewhere though - 'We have better things to do than convince a sick girl of who we are. The question here is how she knew about Harry, Dumbledore and You-Know-Who but still doesn't believe us of who we are. She even knew Fred and George, and Sirius. But she didn't seem to be scared of him, just wary. She didn't call him a murderer like most people would... Something about her is strange...'

By now, Margaret was unsure if these people were actors or not. People can alter their expressions and hide their emotions. But they can never, never, think 'in character.' Because no one can hear their thoughts and so they are at little to zero risk of blowing their covers.

For some reason, the twins had odd coincident thoughts that fascinated Margaret enough to stare at them as if in a daze, ignoring when Sirius and Molly start bickering back and forth about what spells were safe enough to perform indoors.

One of the twins caught her eye and nudged his brother in the side. The two of them then shared a look and a smirk before unexpectedly vanishing altogether.

Like literally. Poof.

Now, there were very few things in the world that scared Margaret, but it was safe to say that she jumped out of her skin - soul and all - when she felt the physical presence of the both of them appear out of thin air on either side of her, with a large crack.

"ARGH!" she yelps and manages to trip, falling unceremoniously on the bed before shifting back to press herself to the headboard. Her shaking hands grabbed the pillow to shield herself as she stared at the two wide-eyed.

So much for making a force shield to protect herself.

Margaret knew very well that they had just Apparated because there was no way they could've walked from the other side of the room in the blink of an eye.

The twins- no, Fred and George, they really were Fred and George - seemed like they wanted to laugh but calmed down quickly and glance rather worriedly at Margaret.

Multiple people start talking at once, cursing at the two and calling them out for scaring her.

"Fred - George! That was absolutely unnecessary! Leave the poor girl alone! Out. Everyone, out now!" Molly's voice booms loudly as she ushers everyone to leave the room.

Margaret couldn't help but look at each of them with wide eyes, now having absolutely no doubt that she was not amidst hooligans but living breathing fictional characters.

Living breathing fictional characters?

Oh, what had the forces of nature gotten her into...

When the room was finally empty after a series of protests from the Weasley children, Molly turned to look at the girl with a sympathetic smile.

"It is alright, dear. You can rest now. Professor Dumbledore will arrive tomorrow morning and further explain the situation. I'm sorry if we scared you-"