. Over an hour with the cheery bloke named Severus Snape. Oh, joy.

The morning had changed in the hour and a half they had spent in Transfiguration. Margaret noticed that a slight mist had fallen over the courtyard, making the people huddled outside seem blurred at the edges, and the air was colder.

Ron and Hermione were once again bickering about something. House-elves, to be specific. They kept on squabbling all the way down to the dungeon and seeing as it filled the silence, Harry and Margaret didn't bother to make small talk even as they joined the queue lining up outside Snape's classroom door.

Margaret walked into the said classroom with the trio, noticing the cold stares that Harry was getting from the students. Their own classmates shot Harry looks of suspicions, some of them even stopped talking abruptly, indicating that they were likely talking about him.

Harry seemed unaware of it all for the time being, which was good, but it bothered her to no end.

As Margaret fisted her hands in annoyance, she suddenly heard a wolf whistle from the front. She did not turn her head to look at them, squaring her shoulders as chuckles followed the vulgar whistle which was obviously aimed at her.

Hermione looked up to glare at whoever it was, gripping Margaret's arm and pulling her down to sit on their usual table at the back, quickly forgetting her argument with Ron. Harry and Ron, oblivious to what had just happened, took seats on the bench in front of the two girls.

"Bloody brilliant, Theo," Pansy commented, her sharp eyes glaring at Margaret. As if feeling the gaze, she looked up, causing Pansy to shoot the girl a self-satisfied smirk.

The group of Slytherins watched as, much to their surprise and Pansy's annoyance, Margaret raised a brow as if saying 'is that the best you can do?'

Then her eyes shifted to Draco who was sat beside Theo and she smirked at him challengingly, instead of at Pansy, knowing very well that it would burn her more.

Without waiting to see their reaction, she turned back to the front.

"That... bitch," sneered Pansy, her hand wrapped tightly around the handle of her wand.

"Pansy, it's okay, she's probably a mudblood. Not worth our time," Daphne tried to reason.

"Exactly why she would pay for that!" Pansy snaps, turning on her friend instead. "Why? Do you want to take her place?"

Daphne flinched, looking down at her lap and shaking her head. "No, no. I'm just saying that... you- we shouldn't get in trouble in class... you can- we can outside..."

"She hasn't done anything to us," Blaise speaks up.

"And she's hot," says Theo, looking towards Draco, hoping he'd agree.

Draco Malfoy still had his eyes trained on the girl but he had zoned out. He always liked a challenge and Margaret had just given him one. Not to mention, he was still supposed to find out her blood status, as useless as he thought it was, because he knew his mother would not stop pestering him about it.

He was yet to receive a letter from her but he knew he would receive one by the end of this week and she would question him about it. He did not understand why her bloodline mattered but with everything that was going on, he didn't question it.

No other word was exchanged between the Slytherins as the door closed and a quiet fell over the classroom, indicating that Snape had just walked into the classroom. Draco turned back to the front.

Margaret listened to Snape as he gave a short speech on scrapping up an 'Acceptable' in Potions, and sighed. She had noticed his glare lingering on poor Neville before he had turned his beady eyes on her as if daring her to go against him.

"Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. If you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy, and sometimes irreversible, sleep; so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing," Snape flicks his wand and the instructions on how the said potion was to be made appeared on the blackboard.

That's when Hermione sat up straighter in her seat, leaning slightly to her right to whisper:

"Just follow what I'm doing."

Margaret had never been more thankful for Hermione Granger.

"Everything you need," Snape flicks his wand again and a cupboard sprung open, "can be found in the cupboard."

Margaret was a good cook. At least, she considered herself capable enough to not burn down the kitchen while trying to make a pot of soup. However, cooking food was rather different than brewing a potion even though she had a steady hand. It was her first time making one and she was already sweating by the time she finished stirring it clockwise after adding the ingredients in the right order.

Snape breathing down everyone's necks did not help whatsoever.

At one point, someone's potion in the front started fuming, blocking the instructions on the blackboard and sending the students into a nervous frenzy. Some who just tried to nick it got sniffs of disapproval from Snape before their potion turned bad; by which, it meant that it either turned into concrete or quite literally came to life.

"Harry, you look like you're having a panic attack," Margaret whispers.

"Yes, well, because I am," he responds from her right, craning his neck to see the instructions on the board while trying to keep stirring his potion at the same time.

"Here, Hermione and I copied them down before starting," Margaret shifts the parchment of the written recipe slightly towards him with her left hand while her right hand stirred the potion anti-clockwise.

"Ron was right, you are a lifesaver," Harry breathes.

She scoffed but wondered how literal that sentence would become in the future if she succeeds in her given task.

"A light silver vapour should now be rising from your potion," calls Snape, with ten minutes left to go.

Most of the class was now filled with a haze of multicolour steam from different disastrous potions, one of them being Ron's, which had started spitting green sparks. However, the surface of Hermione's potion was a shimmering mist of silver vapour. Margaret's was a light grey, similar to Harry's.

As Snape swept by he looked down his nose at Hermione's work without comment before narrowing his eyes at the other two.

"A bit less of powdered moonstone, Xenakis, Potter," he hissed before moving past them.

Margaret let out a breath she didn't realise she was holding. Her head was starting to throb. It was not easy trying to make a potion, keep up with Hermione's actions and keep her mind empty at the same time. She did not want to take any risks around Snape, in case he decided to intrude her mind again and catch her off guard.

"For those of you who have managed to not bring your potions to life, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name, and bring it up to my desk for testing," says Snape. "Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday."

The four of them filled the flagons with their respective potions, with Ron gagging as his potion started smelling of bad eggs. After they cleared up their work, they slumped on their chairs, waiting for the bell.

Once the long bell sounded, Margaret was first out of the class, snaking her way through the crowd of students with experienced perfection and had already started her lunch by the time the Trio arrived in the Great Hall.

The dungeons, especially with Snape there, made her feel trapped and it was suffocating if she was being honest.

. It was about the dullest lecture of Margaret's life and she caught herself yawning more than twice. She did like Trelawney, her peculiarness was always Margaret's favourite.

In her defence, she did not think she would ever dislike anyone here, for the most part. They were all a huge part of her childhood and all of them taught her something.

However, studying, in general, was quite boring.

As Ron Weasley had complained in the morning, there were double Defense Against The Dark Arts Class on Mondays.

The class that just so happened to be with the pink toad.

While walking to class, Margaret recalled reading something about some tentacle juice that helped with the pain that came with blood quills. She did not know what tentacles they were so she would have no choice but to consult Hermione Granger, hoping that she wouldn't question it.

She also needed to ask the Headmaster if Snape would be willing to help her in finding a potion that would remove all kinds of scars made with dark magic; if there was such a potion or could be developed. Seeing the purpose of her mission, she didn't think it would raise that many questions. As much as she did not like spending time around Snape, she had no other option.

Then she also had to start her work on healing spells and potions, another thing that Snape could help with, but Madam Pomfrey too. Margaret prefers the latter, for obvious reasons.

Margaret, Harry and Ron reached the D.A.D.A. class together along with a few other students of their year. The two boys took seats on the third bench, turning on their chairs slightly as to not ignore Margaret's presence. She appreciated the small gesture even though she was only paying slight attention to their conversation about quidditch.

She was quite busy going through the first-grade-like textbook already present on the table.

"Is this seat taken?" Hermione asks politely as she approaches Margaret.

"It would be, only if you sit. Otherwise, it would remain empty," Margaret smirks. Rolling her eyes, Hermione sat down, a smile on her face. It turned into a frown, however, when she saw her copy of the new textbook.

"New book? But we have already bought ours..."

"Ministry-approved," replies Margaret, gesturing at the open one in front of her. "Too much theory. Too less practical. "

"What do you mean?" Hermione was quick to open her own copy, flipping through pages to see that Margaret was correct. Her face scrunches up more by the passing minute as her eyes fly over the lengthy text. "Where are the practice spells? What about using spells?"

"Not with her," Margaret shakes her head. "You'll see."

Hermione huffed in annoyance, her hair blowing out of her face as she did.

"Hem Hem," came the infamous sound, causing everyone to fall silent.

Margaret was slightly impressed at the fact that the rowdy class had actually heard it. But then she saw it - the paper bird that Parvati Patil had enchanted to fly, burnt into a crisp as the ashes floated down to the girl's desk. The class hadn't fallen silent at the 'hem hem' but at the unexpectedly rude spell sent towards the fun little craft.

Margaret sighed. This was going to be a long day.

"Good morning children," begins the toad with a beaming smile on her face. "Ordinary Wizarding Level Examinations. Also known as - O.W.Ls."

She flicked her wand and the words appeared on the blackboard.

"Study hard, and you will be rewarded. Fail, and the consequences may be severe."

The class was deadly silent as everyone wondered how someone could sound so sweet yet so threatening at the same time.

"Your previous instructions in this subject has been disturbingly uneven. But from this moment onwards, you will be following a carefully structured, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic," Umbridge concludes, a glint in her eye as she grinned.

Hermione's hand was already shooting up before Margaret leaned forward to tap Harry on the shoulder. She had to try to save him from getting detentions with this horrid bitch. Whether or not she would be successful would be another story, seeing as Harry couldn't really control his anger at this point in time.

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin, before realising she was trying to tell him something. He contemplated ignoring her but decided against it. He leaned back slightly in his seat, still facing front.

She knew she couldn't speak aloud, because even though Umbridge was utterly stupid, she was still sharp. So Margaret had one option and she hoped Harry wouldn't notice the difference.

"Keep your cool, Harry," Margaret warns in a low voice that echos in Harry's head, confusing him. "Remember, some people aren't worth wasting your breath on."

With that she sat back and pretended as if nothing happened, leaving Harry to scratch his ear, wondering what had just happened. Luckily, he did not realise that she had just directly spoken in his mind.

He did not, however, understand what she meant and nor did he understand why he should listen to her. But he remembered what Sirius had told him the day Margaret had gone to Diagon Alley:

"Keep her close, Harry, she can be of great help in the future," Sirius said, uncharacteristically serious.

"She knows, doesn't she? That Voldemort is back and how that is going to affect our futures?" Harry asked, causing Sirius to grab his shoulder, looking around to see if there is anyone who could've heard before proceeding to steer his godson into one of the empty rooms in the Black household.

"Don't talk about this in front of that wretched house-elf. I don't trust him," muttered Sirius. "But yes, she knows. And you must not ask her. None of us can, Dumbledore's orders. He says she's smart enough to know what she can tell you and what she can't, so if she does say something, take it seriously."

And so, Harry tried to.

"Yes, Miss..."

"Hermione Granger. These course aims don't mention actually using spells?" Hermione asks, getting straight to the point.

"Why I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom where you would require to do so, Miss Granger," Umbridge chirps.

"We're not going to be using magic?" Ron voices the confusion.

"Isn't the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells, isn't it?" Hermione adds.

Margaret noticed many students nod their heads in agreement.

"I don't think you are qualified enough to decide the 'whole point' of my class, Miss Granger. Wizards much older and cleverer than you are have devised our new curriculum of studies. You will be learning defence in a careful, risk-free manner-"

"And what's the point of that?" Harry interjects, causing Margaret to exhale a breath of annoyance. "If we're going to be attacked, it's not going to be in a risk-free way."

Margaret saw many more students nod in agreement again. She folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes to observe the scene as the gears in her head turned. She had thought that they didn't agree with Harry...

"Students will raise their hands if they wish to speak," Umbridge orders as she turns her back towards Harry, obviously knowing he was. She tried to continue as if Harry hadn't interrupted her but now several other people had their hands up too. "And your name is?"

"Dean Thomas."

"Yes, Mister Thomas?"

"Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it?" asks Dean. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free-"

"I repeat," presses Professor Umbridge, "do you expect to be attacked during my classes?"

"No, but-"

Professor Umbridge talked over him.

"I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school," she continues, an unconvincing sympathetic smile stretching across her face, "but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed - not to mention... extremely dangerous half-breeds."

Even though Margaret had a hitch that this was coming, it still didn't stop her from scowling at the vile woman.

"If you mean Professor Lupin," Dean Thomas snaps angrily, "he was the best we ever-"

"Hand, Mister Thomas! As I was saying, you have been introduced to spells that have been complex and inappropriate to your age group, not to mention potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark wizards every other day-"

"No we haven't," interrupts Hermione, "we just-"

"Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!"

Hermione put up her hand and Umbridge promptly turned away from her.

Margaret, seeing this, raised her own hand as something popped up in her head. Umbridge stared at her.

"Yes, Miss?"

"Margaret," she replies bluntly. "It certainly cannot be expected of us to perform spells for the first time during our exams. School's supposed to prepare us for the real world, whether you believe we're in danger or act oblivious to it has no effect on the fact that we are less than three years away from graduating. Correct me if I'm wrong, but it certainly would look bad of Hogwarts students to be utterly clueless about holding a wand simply because we weren't allowed to practice."

Margaret did not know why she said all that but Hermione's astounded and proud expression that she could see from her peripheral, and the murmurs of agreements that arose from around the class, made her feel satisfied with it.

When she mentioned how she couldn't really dislike anyone in this world, Umbridge was undoubtedly excluded from that criterion.

Umbridge raised a brow. Her sweetened smile had dropped.

"It is my understanding that you are new, Miss Xenakis, which is why your foolhardiness will be overlooked for now. However, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination. Surely, the Ministry does not need to take into consideration the opinions of mere children, much less foreigner children, into account."

Umbridge smiled sweetly once again, causing Margaret to stare back unblinking and tilt her head to the side.

Umbridge continues, addressing the whole class. "I understand that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you-"

"I don't have a good feeling about her," Daphne whispers to Blaise, beside whom she had sat seeing as Pansy was keen to sit beside Draco. The only indication that Blaise had heard her was his eye twitching slightly while the rest of his face remained blank. Theodore Nott, however, had leaned forward from the last bench behind the two.

"You know, for being someone who was present during Crouch Junior's trial, she's very... ignorant," Theo comments lowly.

The blonde leaned back on her seat. "She was there?"

"She came back with my father for dinner afterwards; yes, she was there," confirms Theo.

"You think she's... one?" Daphne frowns, trying to see Theo's reaction from the corner of her eye. He only frowned and looked down at his desk.

"Not now," Blaise whispers sharply, effectively cutting the conversation short.

At the front of the class, Umbridge took a great breath and stared at Parvati whose hand had just shot up.

"Parvati Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the counter-curses and things?"

"I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough-"

"And what good is 'theory' in the real world?" Harry interrupts loudly, thrusting his fist in the air.