, before the arrival of Hogwarts Express at the Hogsmeade Station, students rushed to get into their uniforms.

Margaret and Hermione took their backpacks that contained their robes to the lavatories. Ginny had ventured off with another girl from her year a few minutes ago.

Harry worked on waking Ron up. He started to mumble profanities under his breath as soon as he became conscious, for being woken up in the middle of a good nap after the long patrols around the train. Harry pursed his lips to stifle a grin at his friend's behaviour, promptly dragging him to the lavatories to change.

Luna and Neville had already been wearing theirs from the start of the journey, so they stayed behind.

Margaret took off her necklace as it kept getting stuck in her medium length hair, choosing to safely keep it in the small chain in her backpack as she put on the uniform white shirt that she tucked in a grey pleated skirt that ended just above her knees. She pulled on a grey knitted v-neck jumper on top before tugging on the matching grey socks that ended right below her calf, finished with plain black ballet pumps. She'd get her tie, her scarf and the strips on her sweater according to the house she got sorted into.

For the sake of herself, she hoped it would be Gryffindor.

Margaret carried her open black robe in her bag to wear if necessary. She did not want to be overdressed and decided that she'd ask Hermione about it. Folding her jeans and t-shirt that she was previously wearing, she placed them inside her bag neatly, taking out her necklace again.

With that, she left the cubicle, spotting Hermione fixing her hair in the mirror.

Margaret tried but for some reason, couldn't find the latch of the necklace. She huffed before turning to Hermione.

"Hey, Hermione? Could you help me with this necklace, please?"

The witch nodded, approaching Margaret and taking the accessory from her. Margaret moved her hair to the side and it only took her a second to put the necklace on, securing it properly.

"There you go," Hermione says.

"Thanks. It kept getting stuck in my hair."

"That's okay. It's a pretty necklace you've got."

Margaret held up the star-shaped pendant for her to see, the emerald in the middle glinting under the lights. She smiled as she reminisced quietly. "Yeah, it's an heirloom. Both my brother and I got matching ones on our tenth birthday, seven years ago."

"It's beautiful," Hermione compliments. "Is that a locket?"

"It is, actually," she replies, opening it with ease and turning it around for her friend to see. "It's a picture of my brother and me. On the left, we had just turned ten and on the right, it was our first day of high school."

The frizzy-haired witch smiled at the sight of the two photos. Despite their small sizes, they were fairly visible, the identical siblings grinning in the muggle photographs.

Something nudged in the back of Hermione's mind and she frowned as Margaret closed the locket and placed it under her collar. Exactly at that moment, a group of three second years walked into the lavatories.

Both Hermione and Margaret were fairly early to arrive, having had the whole place to themselves until now. By the time the girls finished their hushed talks, giggling to themselves and disappearing into separate cubicles, Margaret had combed her hair and tied it into a high braid whilst Hermione had packed her clothes into her bag.

"You saw it, didn't you?" Margaret questions, breaking the silence that had fallen over them. She had opened her mind, not entirely on purpose, and had heard Hermione's thoughts about the ink. "The tattoo on the back of my neck?"

Hermione gave her a small smile. "I didn't want to seem nosy."

"Nonsense. I don't think of you as nosy," says Margaret earnestly. "I got it when I turned sixteen."

"Does it have a meaning?" Hermione asks as the two of them leave the lavatories.

The excitement of the train had decreased a great extent. It was still filled with conversations, the sound of the tracks beneath and the choo-choo of the horn once in a while, but the atmosphere was no longer rowdy. It was clear that with the sun having set a while ago, everyone was waiting to get to Hogwarts so that they can have dinner and get some needed rest.

"The semicolon between the arrow signifies suicide awareness," Margaret responds simply as if she was talking about a house plant, eying the compartment from where loud snores echoed.

Hermione's brows shot up as she fiddled with her tie. "I've never heard of something like that. Why a semicolon?"

"Because," Margaret drags, "semicolons are used when a writer wants to end a sentence but decides against it. It's a continuation after a brief pause. Just like that, when a person wants to end their life but decides against it."

Margaret did not look up, knowing very well what her new friend's reaction would be. Had she not known Hermione Granger as well as she did, she would've never told her the meaning behind her tattoo. Looking up, expecting pity, and getting just that, Margaret sent the witch a small smile.

"I never wanted to end my life. It's just something my brother wanted to get on his neck. But he couldn't, so I did," she explains softly.

Hermione gave the girl a smile and a nod for sharing this with her.

She hoped that Margaret would end up in Gryffindor, seeing the potential friendship forming between them. Margaret hadn't judged Hermione for her curiousness or being 'too uptight'. Over the past month, they had grown closer, finding similar interests like reading and relating to having been raised by muggles. She seemed to get along with the Weasleys quite well too, Harry, even; despite the fact that they did not talk as much.

"You and your brother seem close," Hermione says thoughtfully after a moment as they came nearer to their compartment.

"Yeah," Margaret breathes. "Yeah, we were. It was hard not to be close. We spent every waking moment together. Perks of being twins, I guess."

"You are a twin?" Hermione asks excitedly, "Like Fred and George?"

"Yep. Fun stuff," she grins as they enter the compartment.

Ron and Harry had arrived already, changed into their school robes and having combed their hair for once. Ginny was there too, and she smiled brightly at the sight of Margaret's braid that she had taught her how to do. Margaret winked at her.

"What are we talking about?" Ron asks, looking between the two girls.

"Nothing," Margaret says quickly. "Just that now we'd have to walk the whole platform because this is the last carriage."

Ron looked utterly horrified, just having realised the fact. His stomach grumbled at the precise moment and he groaned as everyone laughed.

"Carry me, Harry," whines Ron, slumping into his best friend's side who promptly pushed him away.

"It's also the last compartment..." Margaret adds slowly, watching in amusement as Ron scrunches up his face in distaste.

"I hate everything," he mumbles, moodily kicking away a wrapper on the floor.

"He's just hungry," Ginny explains. "I don't know how you eat so much, Ron."

"I have been asking the same question for four years," Harry teases.

"Now that is just bullying!" Ron exclaims in distraught.

The train could be felt slowing down as the company of six laughed at Ron's peculiar ways of whining when he was hungry. Even Luna looked around with a dreamy smile on her face. Everyone was in good spirit as they got nearer to Hogwarts. Outside the compartment, the commotion began again as students no doubt tried to race to the doors to be the first ones to get off the train.

Harry peaked outside the window, smiling at whatever he saw before he turned to Margaret.

"Margaret, come here. Quickly, you shouldn't miss this, it's your first year," he says to her. She got to her feet swiftly and took two steps towards Harry's seat as he shifted to make space for her.

Sitting down next to the window once again, she gazed out of it, briefly wondering what it was that got Harry so excited. Her mouth fell open as the train moved forward, the gap between the large pine trees appeared and the castle of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry became visible.

Standing tall in all it's glory, the ancient castle was lit up with yellow lights in every window. From where she was, Margaret could clearly see the one large looming tower that was taller than the others, and where she knew the Headmaster's office to be. The castle itself seemed to be standing out in the darkness as a beacon of light and hope, glimmering in the magic that held it up, cooped up between valleys and at the bank of the enormous Black lake. Up in the sky, the moonlight diffused through the scene, reflecting off of the stone walls of the castle, giving it an eternal silvery glow.

"That is incredible," she breathes.

The Hogwarts Express skidded to a stop not long after, the castle disappearing from sight. Some nervous giddiness bubbled in Margaret's gut and she grabbed her wand tightly in her skirt's pocket. The familiar handle of the mahogany wood provided some much-needed comfort as the Golden Trio plus one scaled the Hogsmeade platform.

Luna had disappeared off somewhere when they exited the compartment, Ginny had spotted her friends and bid her goodbye for now and Neville had shyly told them that he'd see them during the Great Feast.

Harry noticed Hagrid's absence and commented on it, but no one knew where the half-giant was, so they have no choice but to walk up the hill towards the carriages. Margaret knew he'd be alright and she couldn't wait to meet him. She knew it would be a while before she would get a chance to.

A goblin-like man stood with what seemed to be a checklist at the end of the Hogsmeade Station compound.

"Name?" he shouted, looking up at Harry through his old glasses.

"Professor Flitwick, you've known me for years," Harry replies incredulously.

"No exceptions... Potter!" Professor Flitwick stammers, catching on his slip up quickly, but ignoring it. "Name?"

"Harry Potter..."

"I'm Ron Weasley."

"Hermione Granger."

"Off you go then," he tells them, checking their names off his list before turning to Margaret.

"Name?" he bellows once again.

"Margaret Xenakis," she says.

"I've never seen you before," he narrows his eyes.

"Yes, I moved here from Canada this summer," she lies with a smile and Professor Flitwick nods.

"Very well. Did you attend Ilvermorny then?" he questions while looking through his list.

"Yes," she lies again. She had not seen Ilvermorny, the Canadian Wizarding School, in her life, but at least that's what her application said; fake proofs created by Kingsley Shacklebolt on Dumbledore's orders.

"Ah, there it is. Alright, go on then. And welcome to Hogwarts, dear," he says kindly.

Margaret thanked him before hurrying off after the Golden Trio. Just as she approached them, Margaret was thoroughly surprised to see the pale-skinned, skeletal, horse-like creatures with long beaks. Harry seemed to be enamoured by the creatures too, staring up at them with a stupendous expression.

"Nothing's pulling the carriage, Harry... It's pulling itself, like always," Hermione says slowly in confusion.

Only then did Margaret realised that she had seen death, and hence, it made sense if she could see the creatures of death too.

"Thestrals," she whispers, causing Harry's head to snap towards her as she steps up next to him.

"Thestrals," a dreamy voice confirms from the carriage. Luna Lovegood had somehow found her way back to them by some coincidence. And by the looks of the boy sat next to her, clutching his toad still, Neville Longbottom had too.

"You are not going mad. I can see them too," she tells them. Her protuberant eyes follow them as they rounded around and climbed onto the carriage. Luna had her arms around a cage of an owl that hooted cheerfully.

"He's a sweet little owl, isn't he," she tells Ron.

"He's... um... yeah, he's alright," Ron replies, taking the cage from her as he sat down.

"You can see them too?" Harry turns to Margaret. She nodded, looking at the back of the horse-like creature with interest.

"Don't worry," Luna tells them, gazing off into the distance behind them. "You're just as sane as I am."

Odd looks were exchanged between the occupants as the last carriage creaked and swayed up the hills and past the gates of the Hogwarts castle. Hermione ran her hand through the ginger fur of her cat as it hissed at the hooting of Hedwig and Pigwidgeon.

If Margaret was in awe by Platform 9 ¾, then she was absolutely astounded by the view of the castle. From the distance, it looked beautiful, but closer now, the castle looked magnificent. Excitement bubbled in the pit of her stomach at the thought of attending such a prestigious school. Her inner learner squealed in delight at the prospect of all the new things this place would teach her.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Luna asks, not looking at Margaret but staring at the castle.

"Absolutely," she confirms.

But when her head turned to the right after passing the gates, and the Quidditch Pitch came into view, she saw fire.

Bright orange and red flames licked at the stands and smoke rose upwards into the darkened air. One of the three hoops broke right in front of her eyes and fell down the great height.

One of the stands broke off as the fire entirely consumed it...

She blinked, and it was gone.

The quidditch pitch was perfectly undamaged.

Margaret was quick to look away, her breath caught in her throat, and she wondered if she saw that due to her knowledge of the Battle of Hogwarts nearly three years from now, or if that was an actual visage.

No matter what, she did not have the grin plastered on her face anymore, overly aware of her mission than she was before. She no longer looked up at the castle, not wanting to see any gruesome sight again or she might not be able to keep her tears at bay.

For a moment there, she had forgotten why she was here in the first place. However, that was a harsh wake-up call.

Margaret's dampened mood lifted up slightly when she actually entered the castle's campus after descending from the carriage.

The iron gate was open and when standing right under it and looking up, Margaret could see the clockworks. Though it was as if there was a Silencio placed on it since she did not hear the metal cling-clangs, only the tick-tocks of Grand Clock.

Suddenly, two identical pair of faces appeared on either side of her. The Weasley twins each grabbed either of her arms and pulled her along.

"This is your chance, Margie," George muses mischievously from her left, waving his free hand in front of himself in artistic slow motion as if painting a picture. "Chance to do great things."

"Ignore my incompetent brother, I am the smarter twin," states Fred from her right, leaning to whisper in her ear, "Good luck for the sorting, don't fall into the snakepit."

Margaret rolled her eyes, trying to pull her arms from their grips but they didn't budge.

"Oh, quit dragging your feet, Margie," Fred says, before suddenly yelping when two scarlet wisps danced in front of his face and tickled his nose. He dropped her arm, just as his twin screamed in a similar fashion.

Margaret continued on, a skip in her step as she turned around and walked backwards, smiling innocently.

"Quit dragging your feet, Gred and Forge, or you'll be late."

She turned around once again, biting her lip to stop herself from laughing at their utterly baffled expressions.

"Freddie?"

"Yeah, Georgie?"

"She got us."

"She got us good."

They grinned in sync.

Margaret was distracted from her encounter with the twins - who had unknowingly cheered her up - when she reached the Great Hall. She entered with slow steps, wondering how many things in this world would leave her speechless before she got a hang of it.

The ceiling was bewitched to be a scene of the beautiful night sky, it seemed as if there was no ceiling at all, only an open roof. There were candles hanging in midair over four long tables, each one representing a student of Hogwarts.

Margaret discovered as she took a full turn, that on the walls beside the grand double doors were the tapestries of house colours and insignias that showed which table belonged to which house. On the sidewalls, were flambeaux alight with warm orange flames that did not seem threatening at all in comparison to the ones she saw in her vision outside. The light illuminated the silver ghosts that dotted around the hall and she watched them in fascination, waving at one when he yelled a cheery hello at her.

When she faced forward again, Margaret's eyes met the wise blue ones of Albus Dumbledore himself. He gave her a small nod, ever so kind.

Margaret looked at the four tables on which the excited students sat, eagerly exchanging summer news and shouting greetings at friends across the tables. The students closest to her stared at her then whispered to their friends, undoubtedly noticing her tie-less uniform and the lack of robe insignia. Their nosy glances and the manner of pointing out did not bother her. Some things never changed, she supposed, no matter what school.

Margaret simply clasped her hands behind her back, standing up straight right where she was, a few feet from the entrance of the Great Hall.

"Who's that?" Daphne Greengrass mutters curiously, nearly turning around on the bench after spotting the new figure over her shoulder.

"Who?" Blaise Zabini asks, looking up from Draco's side.

"That's Margaret Xenakis," Draco states, his lip turning at the thought of their last encounter. Pansy's hand around his arm tightened.

"You know her?" Pansy asks, sounding innocent but her gaze holding nothing but poison as she shifted a bit closer to him to get a clear look at the girl.

"She had the nerve to insult me on the train. She's friends with Potter and his pack of blood-traitors and mudbloods," he spits out.

"Is she one herself?" Theodore Nott questions, his eyes still trained over his shoulder at the attractive new girl. "A mudblood, I mean."

Draco opened his mouth to deny it, but then closed it. He knew he couldn't take longer than a moment to answer or his friends would get suspicious.

"How the hell would I know," he snaps at Theodore, who held his hands up in mock surrender.

"She doesn't seem like one," Blaise says casually.

Draco ignored Pansy as she shifted closer to him, making him wonder how she wasn't on his lap already, and instead focused his attention on the nonchalant look on Zabini's face.

"What do you mean?"

Blaise looked up, his dark eyes calculating and zeroed on Margaret. "Look at the way she is standing."

"What?" Daphne questions, wondering if she had heard him right.

"The way she's standing," he repeats, causing the pit of snakes to narrow their eyes at the girl simultaneously, wondering what exactly they were supposed to see. Blaise explains further, "Her pose, looking at everyone from below her nose, gritting her teeth. I'm surprised she's not sneering or hissing at the ones who are pointing at her."

"You noticed all of that in five seconds?" Theodore asks in disbelief.