of the motto her maternal grandfather had given her when she was young - 'Early to wake, a fortune to make. Early to sleep, a fortune to keep.'

So, she was not all that surprised when she was up at the first chirping of the morning bird.

Quick to get her uniform out she only paused to eye the red and yellow robe lines and tie weirdly for a second as the two things had materialised themselves out of nowhere. Nonetheless, she spread out her uniform on her bed that she had just made without the help of her wand.

The shower gave her a challenge, however, putting up a fight against the Gryffindor girl and not spilling warm water - only ice cold. Angrily, she almost missed the instructions carved into one of the tiles on the wall:

Stand under and think of what you want.

She did so, imagining herself standing under a drizzling lukewarm waterfall, and to her surprise and satisfaction, it materialised out of the ceiling.

After the satisfying shower, Margaret got dressed, leaving her hair open after running a brush through it before looking over herself in the full-length mirror on the wardrobe door that she hadn't seen last night. Then, she proceeded to go through her day's schedule, packing her navy blue shoulder bag with books, parchment, quills and ink.

She did not forget her journal, holding it in her hand because she felt closer to home with it.

With that, Margaret was ready for her first day at Hogwarts. She tried not to feel giddy at the fact that she was actually going to be attending a supposedly fictional school that many in her world would kill to see.

However, the girl knew that her duties here were much more important and given that she had already met most people of whom she had the knowledge of their ends, she understood the severity of this situation well.

When Margaret reached the common room, it was empty. Even the fire had long snuffed out. She had heard some mumbling in some female dorms that she passed on her way but it was all mostly silent.

She found a day old Daily Prophet on one of the tables and picked it up. Margaret would've been happy at the prospect of reading while having breakfast had it not been for the annoying and completely untrue headline above the front-page article.

Still, she took it with her to the Great Hall, frowning when she was the first one to arrive for breakfast. With nothing better to do, she put her diary on the Gryffindor table and turned her plate over as food started appearing along the length of the long table.

Margaret buttered a toast and poured herself some coffee, taking a sip before unfolding the newspaper to read it. A scowl almost instantly graced her features when she caught sight of the article again. Curious as ever, she couldn't help but read it when she saw Harry's nervous self in a moving picture under the heading.

The Lies of the Boy Who Lived

Harry Potter, famous since birth for 'killing' He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had been receiving a lot less attention lately. Hence, he has come up with another clever idea to gain popularity.

After getting into the Triwizard Tournament last year, illegally, might I add, since he was underage; Harry Potter, son of James and Lily Potter (both deceased) has come up with another lie that almost got him expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!

Not only is he saying that You-Know-Who is back and he killed Cedric Diggory, original Hogwarts Champion, but Harry Potter is blurting lies after lies about how he was attacked by Dementors and that was his reason to use his wand in front of muggles.

We all know that Dementors do not leave their posting in Azkaban.

Albus Dumbledore is well on his toes to support Harry Potter through every lie. However, not all are as blind as the old Headmaster. Perhaps, he should take a break and handover Hogwarts to someone younger and with the capability to distinguish between what is true and what is untrue.

As of now, Harry Potter has returned to Hogwarts, but we shall inform you and keep you up to date with his next lies. Shouldn't take long now.

Written by Rita Skeeter.

Margaret glared at the journalist's name.

Rita Skeeter knew that Harry didn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire; she knew about Barty Crouch Jr. and his trial; she knew that Cedric Diggory couldn't just drop dead on the ground; she knew that Albus Dumbledore was thousand times a better wizard than she would ever be. Yet still, the woman wrote articles like these, spreading negative hatred around for Harry for absolutely no reason.

Margaret huffed, wanting nothing more than to scrunch up the paper and hurl it into one of the lit flambeaux of flames on the wall. Perhaps do that with the writer of the article herself. Maybe she could give this Skeeter some nightmares with her telepathy.

However, Margaret would die before she lets someone see her lose her composure like that.

And so, ever so calmly, she folded up the newspaper even though there was no one around to see her take out her aggression, and put it to the side.

She instead resorted to cross-checking the events this year, bullet-wise in her diary, and all that she needed to do. Charming the diary open which would only happen with her telekinesis, she proceeded to read what she had written over the summer.

Margaret had finished her breakfast long before any of the 'early risers' even arrived. By the time they did, they looked shocked out of their sleep-heavy minds when they spotted the new girl writing in her notebook with a quill, as her empty plate vanished back to the kitchens.

After a while, she closed her diary, not feeling safe with students filing into the hall. She waited where she was getting so engrossed in her Potions textbook, reading the recipes and trying to find out what each ingredient meant, that she hardly noticed the Golden Trio arriving. She only looked up when she felt someone taking a seat beside her.

"How long have you been here?" Hermione asks in surprise, looking at the open textbook in front of the girl with a small smile.

"A while," Margaret says, frowning. She looked around, noticing that the sun had risen in the sky and the Great Hall was bustling with life. Except the enchanted ceiling was covered in grey clouds. "I'm not sure how long it has been."

"It's too early for textbooks," Ron complains. He had already turned over his plate and served himself all the food he desired.

"I was bored," Margaret shrugs. She turned to look at Harry, wondering why he hadn't said a word, but the saw him eying the article on the front page of The Daily Prophet that Margaret had long forgotten about.

She folded the paper slowly, giving him an apologetic smile when he looked up.

"Don't pay attention to them, Harry. They are in denial. It's not you that they hate, it's the fact that they don't want to believe what you say is true."

"Yeah, I know," he tells her defensively, turning over his plate.

"It'll pass," she mutters, not feeling entirely comfortable speaking about or even possibly defending the people who called Harry a liar.

Thankfully, she was saved when presumably a second year Gryffindor student tapped her on her shoulder.

"Um, excuse me, are you Margaret-" he breaks off, looking down at the parchment in his hand. "Ze-Zenis? Zenkis?"

"Xenakis," she corrects, barely holding back a smile. It was about time someone mispronounced her name. The boy turned bright red.

"Uh- er, yes. That. Um, it's Professor McGonagall. She said... that she wanted to see you in her office before classes started. Okay, bye."

The boy bustled away from her as if he suspected her to take her wand out and curse him.

"Well," she began, not knowing how to continue, looking after the boy with her brows raised.

"Do you want one of us to come with you? I'm not too hungry," Hermione offered, raising the cup of her coffee.

"No, it's fine. What's your schedule?"

Hermione put down her coffee mug and rummaged through her pocket before pulling out a piece of parchment.

"We have Transfiguration first, then double Potions, lunch, then... last is double Defense Against the Dark Arts," she replies. "Have you taken Ancient Runes or Divination?"

"Divination," Margaret says.

"It will be after lunch. You've got Harry and Ron in that class too," Hermione says.

"Double Potions? And double Defense? Bloody hell... McGonagall, Snape, Trelawney, and that Umbridge woman all in one day! I wish Fred and George'd hurry up and get those Skiving Snackboxes sorted," groans Ron.

"Do mine ears deceive me?" Fred says rather dramatically, arriving with George and squeezing onto the bench beside Harry. "Hogwarts prefects surely don't wish to skive off lessons?"

"Look what we've got today," says Ron grumpily, shoving his schedule under Fred's nose. "That's the worst Monday I've ever seen."

"Fair point, little bro," Fred says, scanning the column.

"Speaking of your Skiving Snackboxes," said Hermione, eyeing Fred and George hawkishly, "you can't advertise for testers on the Gryffindor notice board."

"Says who?" George asks, eyes narrowing challengingly.

"Says me," Hermione points a thumb at herself then at Ron. "And Ron."

"Leave me out of it," Ron speaks hurriedly.

Hermione glared at him. Fred and George sniggered.

"You'll be singing a different tune soon enough, Hermione," says Fred, thickly buttering a crumpet.

George adds, "You're starting your fifth year, you'll be begging us for a Snackbox before long."

"And why would starting fifth year mean I want a Skiving Snackbox?" asks Hermione.

"Fifth year's O.W.L. year," says George simply.

"And?"

"So you've got your exams coming up, haven't you?" smirks Fred.

"Half of our year had minor breakdowns coming up to O.W.L.s," continues George happily. "Tears and tantrums... Patty Kenedy fainted twice. Deepak Callahan couldn't stop vomiting. It's a nightmare of a year, the fifth."

"If you care about exam results, anyway," Fred goes on before taking a large bite out of his crumpet, his voice muffled as he continues, "Georgie and I managed to keep our spirits up somehow."

"Let me guess, you exceeded expectations by showing up for the exams, didn't you?" Margaret muses, raising a brow at the pair of them.

The two look up at her in sync and grin.

"Stole words right from our mouths, Margie," says George as Fred nods. "Don't worry, we will give you 50% off your purchases this year."

Fred adds, "Since you're a newbie. You need it more than anyone else."

"That is exactly why she should not skip classes," Hermione scolds, glancing at Margaret sideways and hoping she agrees.

"Don't worry, Hermione, I'm not going to. I do intend to pass the exams, but even I'm not that thrilled about studying. I've given exams before, you know. This was supposed to be my last year..."

"What do you mean?" Harry asks, speaking up for the first time.

Margaret hesitates before leaning forward and lowering her voice.

"Well, let's say I finished my schooling, technically, this year. Then I wanted to take a year off; I don't know, travel or whatever."

"Wow," Ron says dreamily. "I'd like a year off too..."

"I still had school though and I needed to get into a good college. And I took tuitions for some extra money..." She trails off, realizing that all the money she had saved up were left in her room and were no longer of any use to her. Shaking her head, she continues, "It's all new subjects. The theory should be easy since I'm used to writing. It's the practical part I'm worried about. Especially defence..."

"Lupin did a good job at teaching you the basics though," reminds Hermione. "You can do most fourth-year spells by now and that's good enough. We can practice if you like?"

"That would be great, yes."

"O.W.Ls are tough. Affects your future career or whatever," says Fred.

"You'll get career advice later this year too," George adds.

Ron hummed, his mouth full. "Bill told me."

Margaret was slightly surprised she understood what Ron has said considering his mouth was as full as it could possibly be. She didn't mind, she did grow up with a brother; on the other hand, Hermione looked repulsed.

"I don't even want to think about career right now," Margaret mutters, interrupting whatever Hermione was about to say to Ron. The witch instead turned to her.

"Don't worry, you'll have time. Dumbledore knows you're new-"

"That's not what I mean," Margaret intercepts again, an odd feeling spreading throughout her. She did not want to think about her duty here, not right now, not when these people whom she called her friends were looking at her in genuine confusion, unaware of the horrors heading their way.

For a brief moment, she looked away, towards the door.

There is rubble.

Near the grand double-doors of the Great Hall lay debris of the broken roof.

The tables are pushed to the side haphazardly, one cracked in half and toppled over.

There are people... they are hurt. Faceless. Faceless people are hurt...

Margaret's eyes widen and she turns her head away from the aftermath of the chaos, not being able to see it; when she sees him.

Fred.

"Margie?"

She blinked and it was gone.

The Great Hall was back in high spirits and filled with students of all four houses. Some complaining about lack of sleep or the long day of classes ahead, some laughing, some cracking jokes, some eating.

George was now talking to Dean, who waved at Margaret, not noticing her state before going back to his conversation. Ron was busy munching on another piece of toast and Harry had found The Daily Prophet again. Only Fred, who was sat opposite Margaret, and Hermione who was sat next to her, seemed to have noticed her face suddenly lose all colour.

The girl quickly cleared her throat, unable to meet their eyes, especially Fred's. She started gathering her things with her trembling hands, getting up from the bench way too quickly.

"Anyway, I don't want to keep McGonagall waiting. See ya later," she announces, sounding much more confident than she felt or looked. Without another word, she nearly bolted out of the doors.

Fred stared behind her confusedly. He didn't understand why she had looked at him as if she'd seen a ghost.

Hermione saw that Fred had noticed Margaret's weird behaviour too. She was okay one second and then they started talking about careers...

Their eyes met, both equally confused, except Hermione was more concerned. They realised they were the only ones who had noticed. The frizzy-haired witch was mildly surprised to see an expression other than mischief on one of the twins' face.

The moment was broken before Fred could ask anything.

"Are you going to give me any discounts, then?" Ron asks, finally done with his breakfast, bringing both the twins' attention back to him.

"And why would we?" George asks, looking genuinely confused.

"I'm your brother!"

"So?" says Fred flatly.

"But-"

"Fine. You get 2% off every other product you buy," says George.

"That's not fair!"

"Life isn't fair, little bro," replies Fred before getting up and walking off with his twin, each carrying a stack of toast.

Ron turned to Harry with a disbelieving look, who looked like he was trying not to snicker.

"I'm their brother!"

Hermione shook her head to herself.

Margaret made her way out of the Great Hall, following the directions Harry had given her last night towards McGonagall's classroom, trying her hardest to not let that vision or whatever it was, bother her. As expected, she was the first to arrive.

"Good morning, Miss Xenakis," McGonagall greets. "You were quite early this morning."

"Good morning, Professor. I know, I had nothing else to do," she replies with a smile, waiting near the door, not wanting to seem rude by simply barging in.

"Come inside. I believe you deserve the first seat," Professor McGonagall says, nodding as Margaret walks in and takes the seat in front of the teacher's table.

"You wished to speak to me, Professor?"

"Yes. I did, yes. You must know Miss Xenakis," McGonagall begins in a low voice, prompting Margaret to frown, not sure about what was to come. "The Headmaster has told me about your past - regarding where you come from and why."

Margaret did not break eye contact but didn't say anything either. Why had this suddenly become the topic of conversation?

"As the Head of your house, if you ever require to speak to or warn somebody about anything, it would be best if you to come to find me first. Do you understand?"

Margaret had a sneaking suspicion that the look in the Professor's eye meant that there was a hidden meaning behind the words and she wasn't sure if she liked it or not.

Basically, she was to find McGonagall and tell her if any drastic event was approaching or if someone had to be warned about anything. She wasn't sure if McGonagall knew that Harry Potter and his friends knew about her past or not; either way if Margaret had to warn someone who was not aware of her roots, then she was to tell McGonagall, who would take care of it.

Margaret nodded confidently as if she wouldn't dare go against the Professor's wishes.

"I understand, thank you."

As McGonagall nodded back and looked down to whatever the large book in front of her was when something else occurred to Margaret.

"But, Professor, if I have to say something to the Headmaster, in case if it's something of high importance..."

She left it hanging, watching as McGonagall pondered over her words.

"In such circumstances, you may approach him directly."

No other words were exchanged, as at that moment another student walked into the classroom. Margaret heard the footsteps slow down as if the person was unsure about something.

"Good morning, Miss Greengrass. Why don't you take a seat beside your new classmate?" Professor McGonagall says and though it was a question, it was quite clear that there wasn't any other option.

The student - revealed to be a girl with pin straight-blonde hair, a straight pointed nose and sharp eyes - sat down as far as possible from Margaret, causing her to glance at the girl sideways.

Oh, yeah. Greengrass.

If she was in Margaret's year then this was Daphne Greengrass - a pure-blooded member of one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families, the older sister of Astoria Greengrass, and a Slytherin through & through.

At the current moment, however, miss perfect seemed to be having a battle with her rucksack.

"Hi," greets Margaret, suddenly turning in her spot. Daphne narrowed her eyes at her and paused her actions. "I'm Margaret Xenakis."

She didn't put her hand forward as she hadn't done with Draco. She knew that she was judged based on what house she was in and what her blood status was. Right now, she was only... mocking her new seat partner.

"So?" Daphne raises a brow, looking at Margaret cooly and shifting away a bit more.