everything seemed to be even more chaotic to Margaret.

Everyone had started fretting over Harry's trial after she had informed Dumbledore and the others of the change in timing and location. It was already 7 AM, causing everyone but especially Harry to rush getting ready to get to the Ministry on time.

A few people, especially Bill, were wary of the sudden information. However, it was all forgotten when Mr Weasley declared that reaching early never did anyone any harm.

Margaret had locked herself up in her shared room, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep and hopefully wake up back in her room. Unfortunately, sleep did not come, and neither was she able to teleport back to her room. Her powers refused to work.

"Margaret," Ginny drawls. "You can't hide in there forever! Come on out!"

"Go away Ginerva!"

"Don't call me Ginerva!"

"You sound like Tonks, you know that?"

"Don't drift off topic! Come on out, please. We won't ask any questions if you don't want us to, promise," the girl tried to bargain.

Margaret shifted on the bed to stare up at the ceiling with a frown on her face. "It's not that Ginny, I just want to be alone right now."

For a moment, no reply came. Then she heard a sigh from the other side of the door.

"Alright, fine. But if you need anything, we... well, it's not like we're going anywhere. It's like we're bloody quarantined in this horror house..."

Margaret chuckled a little at the young Weasley's description. It was true, they were on lockdown here. For a good reason too - it was better to stay inside than risk running into Death Eaters at a time like this.

After hearing Ginny's footsteps disappearing down the stairs, Margaret decided to be more productive without actually having to leave the room.

She took out her one of the school notebooks that she had in her bag (the only possessions she had) and started jotting down notes about the events of the year. She wrote in codes that only she would understand, just some pointers. She was wondering if would be able to buy a charmed journal that only she could open and a pot of invisible ink from Diagon Alley.

She made a mental note and continued to write down pointers to then later copy into the proper book.

Margaret did end up going downstairs just in time for dinner, and incidentally when Harry returned from Wizengamot with all charges cleared. Mrs Weasley realised that she had gone overboard with stress cooking and they ended up having a mini party, complete with Fred, George and Ginny's chanting of 'he got off, he got off, he got-'

You get the point.

The very next morning, at the crack of dawn, Mrs Weasley bellowed from the kitchen that Margaret's Hogwarts letter had arrived. For a moment, everyone thought that Walburga Black had woken up from her slumber again with how loud the excited shriek of the woman was. Margaret was too happy to care.

It had been a while since she had felt the motherly love and let Mrs Weasley wrap her into a bear hug.

Everyone congratulated her and Fred and George took every opportunity to make sure she knew that every house except Gryffindor was a big 'no-no'.

Harry Potter still seemed to be intent on avoiding her as much as he could. Once again, Margaret let it go, knowing he was going through a lot at the moment and it was only going to get worse.

What bothered Margaret more than Harry's odd behaviour were her own feelings. Anyone from her world would be over the moon to be attending Hogwarts with the Golden Trio. However, due to the knowledge that she had, all she really felt was this incredible weight on her shoulders which caused her to get anxious, something that she wasn't really used to feeling.

Worried? Yes. Stressed? Definitely. But anxious? Margaret doesn't remember ever feeling so.

Mrs Weasley, on the other hand, was keen on going to the Diagon Alley and without further ado, rushed Margaret to get ready in another one of Hermione's outfits after breakfast and quickly handed her a fistful of floo powder before pushing her into the fireplace.

Using the floor network, however, was another level of disaster for the time-traveller.

She ended up saying Diagonally instead of Diagon Alley, and just as soon, everything took off in green nothingness, making her feel like she was being forced through a pipe that was too small for her. She was lost until suddenly finding herself on solid ground. Winded, she fell forwards, covered in soot.

It was stupid really, knowing that Harry Potter had made the same mistake once upon a time and now she had just repeated it like a proper idiot.

Margaret coughed but she didn't expect someone to suddenly pull her to her feet, nearly making her stumble on the edge of the fireplace; she hastily dusted herself off of soot and pulled the white turtleneck collar in place to hide her wound.

She looked up with narrowed eyes to find a face graced with a scowl, the boy's hair a pale shade of blonde, his grey silver eyes judging, and thin pink lips upturned...

Her breath caught in her throat.

Malfoy.

"What? Said the name wrong, did you?" he sneers. "They always end up in Knockturn Alley."

"I'm in Knockturn Alley? What are you doing in Knockturn Alley?" Margaret asks, sounding a little slurred from the odd experience of the floo. She eyed her surroundings warily, knowing well about the reputation of Knockturn Alley.

It looked like a pub and since it was still quite early in the morning, there weren't many people around except for Draco, Margaret, the bartender that was sluggishly rubbing the tables, and a man in worn-out robes drooling on one of the booths. The place itself seemed like it hadn't been cleaned in centuries, what with the cobwebs on the high ceiling and the broken furniture. It reeked of cigarettes and whiskey, and Margaret took short breaths in order to not smell it for too long.

"That's none of your business," he sneers again. "Who even are you? You don't sound British."

"Margaret Xenakis. I moved here this summer from Canada," she lies without a second thought, not holding out her hand out because she knew that he wouldn't ever shake it.

"Xenakis? Never heard of that. Mudblood, are you?"

"I wouldn't know, Malfoy," she spits back.

He narrowed his eyes at this and Margaret didn't miss when his hand inched towards the wand in his right pocket. He wasn't very subtle. But she had a feeling that he wanted her to feel intimidated, even though he still couldn't use magic outside of school.

"How do you know my name?" he asks in a low threatening tone. It didn't scare her, though. She knew him more than he knew himself.

"Your father is quite well known. Pale hair, grey eyes; it wasn't that hard to figure out," she tells him, and he looks slightly less reproachful after. Glancing at their surroundings sceptically, she continues, "So... Can you tell me how can I get to Gringotts?"

He scowls. "Like hell, I'd help a Mudblood such as yourself."

"You don't even know if I am one," she retorts in irritation.

"Then what are you?" he asks.

"Does it matter? You wouldn't really leave a girl in an unfamiliar dangerous surrounding, would you?"

"Yes. Yes, I would."

"Whatever Malfoy, I'll find my own way," she grits out, glaring at him before moving past him.

Draco was infuriating her at a wrong time - Margaret was already pissed that she didn't say the name of the place correctly and she had no intentions of running into any stray Death Eaters at this point in time. She did not trust her powers enough to save her butt if she ran into a powerful dark wizard.

She does notice when Draco followed her out, however. She hadn't even taken ten steps from the blasted pub when he yelled from behind her:

"You're going the wrong way!"

Margaret turned around with a scowl, folding her arms across her chest. "I wouldn't belive a snake such as yourself."

"Two seconds ago, you wanted my help woman!"

She opened her mouth to reply but realised that he was right. How was it, that two minutes of talking to Malfoy and she was already speechless?

Truthfully, she could have just read his thoughts but Margaret wanted to see what he did next. Although he was undoubtedly a prick, he really was an interesting character, always having one way or another to cause trouble.

"You're definitely a Mudblood. How else can someone be so daft?" Draco mutters in irritation when she doesn't reply, before walking past her.

"I thought that was the wrong way?" she asks, finally opening her mind, and hearing that this was, in fact, the right way; but Malfoy wouldn't be admitting that anytime soon.

She followed him and he didn't speak anymore; just kept scowling to himself. When some sunlight managed to make past the narrow paths and looming dark buildings, Draco's face was more visible and surprisingly his pale cheeks were tainted pink. Margaret didn't point it out, worried that he'd dump her here and leave.

After God knew how many twists and turns through the dingy place, every turn making her think it would be the last before they ended up in another darker alley, the unlikely duo finally escaped the labyrinth and came towards a brighter area - the Diagon Alley.

Margaret could hear the chatter of people in the morning air and the chirping of birds, and she could finally walk without having to look over her shoulder every other second. A smile makes its way to her face when she spots Mrs Weasley standing outside Gringotts, presumably waiting for her while craning her neck to look around in concern.

"That will be all," says the time traveller, stopping just a few shops down from the wizarding bank. Draco paused too and looked over her. She had to refrain herself from pointing out the fact that he was blatantly checking her out.

He was an inch or two taller than her but the way he held himself with pride, and the ego oozing from him like it was his heat signature, made Margaret feel as if she was far smaller. But she knew Draco Malfoy better than even himself and so she knew that he had been taught etiquette before he had even started to walk.

She knew firsthand how that felt like.

Damned pureblood families.

"Thank you," she says when he didn't speak and instead gazed off into space. Draco looked up suddenly, eyes widening as if snapping out of a trance, his cheeks visibly growing warmer as he cleared his throat. Nodding, he averted his eyes before walking away speedily.

Margaret stared at his retreating figure with a conflicted smile. It was a wonder why he thought of her as attractive when she could have potentially been a muggle-born.

She turned her back when he disappeared from sight, not seeing when he approached a middle-aged woman with a pale blonde streak running through her dark hair.

Narcissa Malfoy had watched the entire scene play out from the moment the two stepped into Diagon Alley.

"Draco," she greets her son. "Did you find him?"

"He didn't show up," Draco replies with a glare to the ground. Mundungus Fletcher was useless.

"As we had predicted. Who was that?"

"Said the name wrong, ended up in a random pub. I happened to be there," he says as the two walked towards Leaky Cauldron. "I suppose I've been raised better than to leave a girl alone in a dark alley."

"What was her name? Was she a pureblood?" Narcissa questions.

"Her name was Margaret Xenakis. Said she didn't know her blood status. Never heard-"

"Xenakis?" Narcissa pauses, turning on her heel to face her son who gave her a confused look.

"Yes? That's what she said at least. Why? Is she important? I thought she was a Mudblood, sure acted like one too."

"No, the Xenakis family is a pureblooded family," replies Narcissa in her low soft tone. "Or at least, they were..."

"What do you mean?" Draco questions, letting his mother drag him to the side near the fireplace in Leaky Cauldron.

"They were very rich a long time ago, but then disappeared without a trace. Some say their surname disappeared over generations but no records were found to prove so. However, no records were found to prove otherwise," she explains in a hushed tone and Draco frowns.

"Maybe they moved to another country? She said she moved here this summer from Canada."

"I have never heard of a strong English pureblood family in Canada... It could be possible that she is a muggle-born witch, sharing the same surname. However, that is extremely rare," says Narcissa.

"We can ask father about it," Draco suggests.

"No, do not mention this to your father right now. He has got a lot to deal with. Keep a close eye on this Margaret if she attends Hogwarts. Find out more about her, if or not she is a pureblood," Narcissa replies, smiling at a passing pureblood witch. She waited, making sure they were out of hearing range before speaking again.

"She could be of great use to the Dark Lord if she is..."

~ author's ramblings ~

well, that escalated quickly, didn't it?

sorry if the first bit was a bit of a filler. I want to get all the informative parts out of the way so that we can ease into the original timeline.

also, Narcissa wasn't the only one who recognised the Xenakis last name. Walburga Black's painting did too. just a little reminder :)

okay, have a nice rest of the day/night wherever you are! stay home and stay safe!

- April.

PS: expect another update tomorrow :)