Sirius' sadness was not overlooked by Margaret, or by the boy who lived, for that matter.

As promised, she had visited Buckbeak the hippogriff with Sirius there to guide her. The majestic creature seemed even bigger being cooped up in the small room. It was proud, however, that much Margaret could tell.

She reached forward, nearly losing her hand, but with the Azkaban escapee gently stroking the hippogriff's wing, the creature calmed down enough to accept the dead fish from Margaret's hand. He devoured it in one go, looking almost expectantly at her. She threw the bag of fishes forward causing him to turn to it.

"A big baby is what he is," Sirius says, shaking his head at his pet.

Halfway through eating, Buckbeak suddenly turned to Margaret before stepping forward hesitantly towards her still outstretched hand to nuzzle into it - a sign of trust.

A peal of giddy laughter left her when the giant animal befriended her.

From that day onward, both Margaret and Buckbeak seemed to enjoy each other's company enough to spend hours with one another. It gave Sirius some reason to laugh, usually finding the time-traveller in his mother's old room, either talking to Buckbeak or cleaning to make the place more suitable for the proud creature to stay in.

"I didn't think he'd have liked to be read to," Sirius comments one rainy afternoon, glancing down at the book in Margaret's lap.

The girl herself looked up with a smile, pausing her reading. "Yes, me neither. Then I tried it last night and he seemed to enjoy it."

As if on cue, Buckbeak made a sound and shook his wings gently, a sign for her to read again. When she didn't he repeated the actions and Sirius understood that Buckbeak was actually interested in listening to the story.

"What story are you reading?" Sirius asks conversationally, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. He sat down in front of the hippogriff and petted his beak affectionately.

"It's a muggle fantasy book called Alice's Adventures in Wonderland."

"Oh, I've heard of that one. I think I read it at some point because Lily let me borrow her copy, but I can't really recall it..." Sirius reminisces and it surprises Margaret a bit. She had forgotten that Lily Evans was a muggle-born.

"Um... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... you know," Margaret begins unsurely but Sirius shook his head.

"No, no. It's not your fault. Well then, go on, we don't want an impatient hippogriff," says he with a good-natured smile, not looking as creepy as he did when Margaret had first seen him.

Margaret continued reading, now not just to a hippogriff but also an Azkaban escapee who got suddenly excited when he recalled reading certain parts. Conversations lead to conversations and Margaret found out more about the adventures of the Marauders and Lily Evans.

She was glad that she could distract Sirius Black from the fact that he was about to be alone again in a few days.

She would often spend time with him after that, talking about Buckbeak and even Sirius's Animagus form. A few days later, Harry started to join them too, but both Margaret and he wouldn't speak with each other too much. It wasn't unfriendly, just a little uncomfortable. But the silence was filled with Sirius recounting the moments from the Marauders Era, one that interested both of them enough to forget about the real world outside for a while.

In midst of that, Margaret had gotten to go to Diagon Alley with Ginny, Hermione and Tonks to buy clothes. She had arrived there before them to make a pitstop at Gringotts to open a new vault for herself that did not require her to nearly lose her life while trying to withdraw some money.

Then she had also made a small stop in Quality Quidditch Supplies when she had remembered something that was soon going to happen. She could collect the parcel later...

Margaret had later dragged Ginny, Hermione and Tonks to the shops in Muggle London to find something that she'd actually prefer wearing, appropriate for the time she was in but also something that represented her taste, and Jennifer Anniston's taste because come on, it was the 90's.

She did end up getting denim shorts that earned her looks from some passing customers.

"Where could you possibly wear that? I mean, it would look good on a vacation, but what about school?" Hermione asks, curiously eying the shorts.

"I don't know, I had a similar pair back home. Nostalgia's sake, I guess," Margaret replies, looking down at the ripped shorts that ended a few inches above her knees. "Anyway, I need to get hoodies, I am really not a sweater person."

Margaret also got a bunch of tees and all kinds of sweats and jeans she could find. Not much but just enough to last her a couple of years. She did not want to run out of things in the middle of a war.

Later in the days, she got to finally practice magic with Tonks, Sirius and Remus outside in one of the many rooms of Grimmauld Place that they cleared out. The auror went tough on the rookie witch from the beginning and Snuffles was only interested in playing fetch, which caused in Remus kicking them both out from Margaret's training.

The twins wanted to help her too, but knowing their mischievous nature, their mother had forbidden them from doing so, threatening to take away their wands if they tried.

"You can't do that!" Fred exclaims, looking horrified that his mother would even suggest that.

"We're of age!" George adds, an identical expression on his face.

"Watch me," glared Mrs Weasley. For once, Mr Weasley seemed to agree with his wife regarding this.

"Your mother is right. Perhaps you should wait until Margaret gets a bit of a hang on magic before pulling her into a duel."

The two groaned but did not argue. Margaret felt slightly bad for her two favourite Weasleys and offered to help them with coming up with ideas for the products for their joke shop. They agreed after she suggested creating some spell-checking quills and a few ideas for a pack of candy that was still work-in-progress.

Remus Lupin had gone full-on D.A.D.A professor mode on her. In the span of the few weeks of summer, he had managed to teach Margaret all the basic spells she'd need.

"It's OWLs year," Remus says one evening, handing Margaret her wand after he'd disarmed her for the umpteenth time. "You need as much practice as you can get.

"I know," she breathes, grabbing her wand. She knew very well that they were going to have the most horrid Defense teacher in the history of Hogwarts, so she trained all the time when she wasn't busy hanging out with Ginny and Hermione or Buckbeak or writing down pointers for the upcoming year. "Okay, I'm ready. Let's go again."

Remus was by far the best professor Hogwarts had ever had, and if Margaret was being honest, he was also the best professor she had ever had. She could not have asked for anyone better.

Now she just had to make sure that he would be fine by the end of this...

the last day of summer break rolled around, the book lists arrived, along with two brand new, shining Prefect badges; one for Hermione and another for Ron. Which confused the heck out of the rest of the kids, although Margaret knew this would happen.

Harry seemed a bit upset after finding out that most of them expected him to get the badge, what with him being the Triwizard Champion and all the other things.

"Prefect... ickle Ronnie the Prefect..." Fred couldn't seem to stop mumbling.

"Ginny said the booklists have arrived. If you give them to me, I'll take them over to the Diagon Alley this afternoon and get your books while you're packing," Mrs Weasley offers as she entered the room and set down the freshly washed laundry on the bed. "Ron, I'll have to get you more pyjamas, these are inches too short, I can't believe how fast you're growing. What colour would you like?"

"Get him red and gold to match his badge," George perks up, smirking.

"Match his what?" asks Mrs Weasley absently.

"His badge," says Fred. "His lovely shiny new Prefect's badge."

Fred's words took a moment to penetrate Mrs Weasley's preoccupation about pyjamas.

"His... but- Ron, you're not...?"

Ron held up his badge.

Mrs Weasley lets out a shriek just like Hermione's when who had first seen the badge in Harry's hand, mistaking him to be the Prefect. But no misunderstandings this time as Mrs Weasley started flocking around her youngest son like a mother hen.

"I don't believe it! I don't believe it! Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A Prefect! That's everyone in the family!"

"What are Fred and I, your next-door neighbours?" says George indignantly, as his mother pushed him aside and flung her arms around Ron.

Margaret snorted at George's words, causing Fred, now standing next to her, to give her an incredulous look like he could not believe his own mother. She rolled her eyes at him playfully, moving to her own laundry pile that Mrs Weasley had kindly offered to wash.

Fred and George were both making loud retching noises behind her back but Mrs Weasley did not notice, her arms tight around Ron's neck as she kissed him all over his face which had turned a brighter scarlet than his badge.

"Mum- don't... mum, get a grip," he mumbles, trying to push her away.

"You've got to have a reward for this! How about a new cauldron? The old one's gotten rusty. Or dress robes?" Mrs Weasley gushes, mind whirling over things she could buy for her youngest son.

"We already got him some," says Fred, looking like he seriously regretted the generosity.

"Mum," begins Ron hopefully, "can I have a new broom?"

Mrs Weasley's face fell slightly; broomsticks were expensive.

"Not a really good one!" Ron hastened to add. "Just... just a new one for a change..."

Mrs Weasley hesitated for a second, just enough for Margaret to interrupt.

"I've already got you one."

She was met with confused gazes of the room's occupants, so she swallowed and made her way towards the small broom cupboard on the side while explaining further.

"Look, I don't want to be the all-knowing time-traveller; that's bound to get annoying soon enough. But I had an inkling that this would happen, so um... I asked Ginny for a bit of help since I knew nothing about brooms," Margaret strains, struggling for a moment to take out the shining new Nimbus 1500, wrapped in thick brown paper that was slightly longer than the door of the cupboard. She tore it carefully so the rest of them could see it.

She smiled sheepishly when everyone gasped at the sight of it.

"Margaret! I- oh! You should not have! I will not allow this, these are expensive!" Mrs Weasley scolds, looking distraught at the sight of the broom.

"I'm sorry Mrs Weasley, it was the least I could do. I don't want you to feel as if I'm repaying you for letting me stay you your family this summer, that is not my intention. I just genuinely wanted to do something, being made a Prefect is a big deal," she replies, looking down at her feet, slightly guilty about not consulting Ron's parents beforehand. "I'm sorry I should have told you before..."

Mrs Weasley sighs after a moment. "No, it is alright. But you are not to buy any of us anything from now on, do you understand?"

Margaret perks up, nodding at the older woman. "Absolutely. You're not mad?"

The red-haired woman looks at the guilty expression of the girl and smiles. "No, I'm not. Come here, darling, you look so nervous."

Mrs Weasley envelops Margaret in a hug, thankfully not as tight. Margaret pats the woman's back slightly before she lets her go.

"Well... okay then. Here you go, Ron. Congratulations!"

The boy in question stares at the broom, then up at Margaret, then at his mum, and then back at the broom.

"Are you sure?" he breathes.

"Uh, for one, I can't fly a broom, and... it has your name on it," says Margaret turning the handle so he could see Ron W. engraved on the mahogany wood in gold behind where the name of the broom was written.

"That's brilliant!" he exclaims, no longer hesitant as he takes it from Margaret, examining it from the top where his name was inscribed to the tail of neat, straight twigs; admiring every inch of the sleek broom.

"Well, I'd better get going if I've got to buy all your books on time," declares Mrs Weasley. "I'll see you all later... Thank you, Margaret, for this, darling. But remember, no more surprises."

"Yes ma'am," Margaret salutes her, smiling cheekily.

"Little Ronnie, a Prefect!" She gave Ron yet another kiss on the cheek. "And don't forget to pack your trunks... A Prefect!"

Mrs Weasley sniffed loudly and hurried from the room.

Fred and George exchanged looks.

"Looks like ickle Ronnie hit the jackpot today, eh?" says Fred, eyeing the broom then looking at Margaret who shook her head at him and moved back to the laundry.

"I wanna try this. Margaret thank you so, so much!" Ron exclaims suddenly, looking goofy as if he was under the effects of a love potion.

He probably was because he threw his arms around her right after, making the twins snigger. It was awkward because he pinned her arms straight to her sides when he haphazardly hugged her, but Margaret just laughed and patted his back before he let go.

If he noticed Margaret's amused expression or Hermione gaping or Harry looking at him weirdly, then he didn't show it, going back to admiring his new broomstick.

"I can't ever repay you for this."

"Actually, you might want to teach me how to ride one of those sometime. As much as I hate heights, I've heard it is a useful skill," she bargains and Ron nods his head excitedly.

"You'll love it, I'm sure!"

"You don't mind if we don't kiss you like mum did, do you?" George asks in a mockingly anxious voice.

"We can curtsy if you like?" Fred adds.

"Oh, shut up, you two," Ron mutters, a grin on his face still, throwing a pillow closest to him at the twins but the pair smirk simultaneously and Disapparate before the pillow could hit them.

"Don't listen to them, Ron. They're just jealous," Hermione says reassuringly in a small voice before she smiles at his enthusiasm. "Well then? Are you going to try that or not?"

"Obviously! You coming?"

"No, I have to write to my parents about being made the Prefect," she tells him, turning her back to him to face Harry, who had almost been forgotten, just as Ron turned to Margaret.

"Are you coming?"

"I'd love to, but I've got to pack and then feed Buckbeak. I'll catch you later," she promises and Ron nodded and dashed out of the room.

"Harry?" asks Hermione tentatively.

"Well done," says he, so heartily that it did not sound like his voice at all. "Brilliant. Prefect. Great."

"Thanks," mutters Hermione. "Uh, Harry, could I borrow Hedwig so I can tell mum and dad? They'll be really pleased... I mean, Prefect is something they can understand-"

"Yeah, no problem," says Harry, still in the horrible hearty voice that did not belong to him. "Take her!"

The boy who lived ignored his best friend, rummaging through his trunk as she called Hedwig down from the top of the wardrobe. He remained like that even as he heard the door being closed. A few moments later, he straightened up and sighed, nearly jumping out of his skin when Margaret spoke.

"I can leave you alone if you want?"

"No! No, it's fine," he replies without thinking, sitting down at the edge of his bed. "Nimbus 1500, huh?"

"Yeah," she says unsurely, glancing at him once in a while, setting her clothes in her new trunk carefully.

Margaret had almost forgotten about Harry's jealousy, she was just hoping he'd realise it soon enough that feeling like that was mindless and he should be happy for his best friend. She knew he'd come to that conclusion himself soon enough, but that didn't mean it did not worry her.

"Aren't those expensive, though?" He questions almost rhetorically. He knew very well the Nimbus was always expensive, despite it not being the latest edition.

"Kind of," she shrugs.

"Kind of?"

"Well, when I went to Gringotts, I was surprised to find that my family left behind a huge sum of savings. Either way, all of it is simply too much for me. I don't want to waste it, but Ron's really good at quidditch. Think of it this way, this could mean more wins for Gryffindor..."

Margaret sat down on the spare bed in the room, on which she, Hermione and Ginny had kept their trunks following Mrs Weasley's orders. Something about laundry being at one place, and not to forget other important stuff.

She looked at Harry, noticing how this was the first actual conversation they were having in weeks.

If he had heard Margaret, he did not show it. Instead, he zoned out into his own world. She let him be, turning back towards her trunk and quietly keeping her books on her clothes.

The diary she had been writing the order of the events in felt like it was her own Horcrux, as dark as that sounded. It seemed like a part of her soul that she vowed to protect. No one could ever find out what was written in it. Once all of this was over, she would burn it and throw the ashes into the ocean if she could.

"On what basis, do you think, are Prefects chosen?" Harry asks suddenly, his voice seems far away as if he was asking himself. But then he looked at a confused Margaret who took that as a cue to answer.

"I'm not sure, really... But think about it, what do both Ron and Hermione have in common?"

Harry opens his mouth but then closes it, actually think about it.

"Uh, well, nothing? Oh, and me."

She gave him a flat look before frowning. "In a way that's correct, I guess... but that's not what I'm talking about. I'm not sure how Dumbledore chooses the Prefects, but it's probably not based on how many dangerous situations one could get themselves into."

"I didn't ask for any of them!" Harry shouts, his green eyes wide in disbelief.

"I know you didn't. And neither did Ron and Hermione. Think about it, they never really left you alone to deal with it all, and I don't think that they ever will," she responds, smiling at him before locking her fully packed trunk and silently leaving the room to let him consider her words.

As the door shuts after Margaret, Harry ponders over what she said.

Maybe Prefects weren't chosen based on how good they were at quidditch or if they had battled basilisks or how many times they had come face to face with the darkest wizard of all time. Maybe Ron was chosen because he had something Harry did not. Maybe it was because he blindly followed his best friend into trouble without a question; because how could he possibly leave him alone"

Harry realised that without Ron and Hermione and their support, he would've never been able to get to the Stone in the first year or figured out the Chamber of Secrets or freed Sirius or gotten through the Triwizard Tournament.

Ron had not asked Dumbledore to give him the Prefect badge. This was not his fault. Was he, Harry, Ron's best friend in the world, going to sulk because he didn't have a badge, laugh with the twins behind Ron's back, ruin this for Ron when, for the first time, he had beaten Harry at something?

No, says a small but truthful voice in his head.