but Madam Pince was already glaring at her.

It was a bright early morning of the last weekend of September and Margaret had made her way to the library before going to breakfast.

She was a fairly curious person, the anticipation of finding out what book Dumbledore wanted her to read had almost brought her to the library after dinner the previous night. However, she had managed to drag her feet back to the common room, telling herself that she could always go the next day as Dumbledore had told her to do.

"Headmaster Dumbledore has asked me to read this book," Margaret says in a low voice, not wanting to piss off the strict librarian even more.

Madam Pince narrowed her eyes and took the sealed parchment. She got her wand out of her robes and pointed at it, and the envelope opened itself up in front of her. She then brought it closer to her face and examined thoroughly, making sure it wasn't forged.

"Hmm... The book mentioned, Les Contes D'Animaux Fumés, can be found in the Restricted Section," says Madam Pince in a business-like tone. Margaret's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You have the permission to go retrieve it, according to Headmaster... You'll find it on the third shelf to the left, at the very end near the closed window."

"Thank you, Madam Pince," Margaret says, eager to find the book even more now since it was from the sacred Restricted Section. She had half-turned around when Pince called her name. "Yes?"

"Do NOT," says the librarian sharply, "as much as blink at any other book; is that clear?"

Margaret nodded, eyes wide. "Crystal."

"Good then. Go now, before I change my mind."

Margaret turned on her heel and stalked towards the far end of the fairly empty library without a glance back. She reached the wooden-framed glass door and stopped, looking up at the engraved bronze sign that read Restricted Section. Hesitantly, she reached forward and tilted the horizontal handle downwards. The door unlocked with a click.

Heart thumping in anticipation, Margaret slowly pushed the creaky door forward and took small steps inside. Once she was inside the boundaries of the closed-off section, she pushed the door behind her, not shutting it completely but enough for the lock to touch the door frame.

The Restricted Section didn't look much different from the rest of the library. It contained a long aisle of about seven shelves on each side - so about fourteen shelves in total.

The only difference was that the place was only lit up by yellow balls of floating light in the middle of the aisle ceiling. Even though it was morning and the sun shone outside, all windows were closed, stopping any natural light from pouring in. After the continuous rain in the past few days, the place had a cold and damp atmosphere that made it seem far older than the rest of the library.

Margaret rubbed her arms that, despite concealed by the sleeves of her blue hoodie, were covered in goosebumps. She shivered involuntarily, not liking the place much. She knew that many books related to dark arts were present here as well as books on subjects that were not taught at Hogwarts. Her previous excitement was replaced by slight nervousness.

Taking a deep breath, Margaret sauntered down the aisle, counting the shelves and finding the third one on the left quickly. Madam Pince had mentioned that the book would be near the end of the shelf, beside the closed window; however, it was so dark, Margaret had no choice but to use Lumos to find the book.

Thankfully, she found it quickly. Les Contes D'Animaux Fumés was huge as if an encyclopedia. So huge, in fact, that it was cemented between two books on its either side. Margaret sighed, then transferred her wand to hold her teeth, and used both her hands and all her might to pull out the stubborn book.

It didn't budge.

"Oh come on, you," Margaret mumbles incoherently, trying again, harder this time with her feet planted against the shelf's base.

She should've realised that this was particularly a bad idea because the large book did slip out; however, Margaret stumbled back from the force. By some miracle, she regained her balance but the two books on the sides had crashed to the floor with two large thumps that echoed in the damp place.

Margaret shot a look a panic towards the end of the shelf, worried that Madam Pince would strut in, wielding her wand and handing out detentions to her. She quickly heaved up the heavy book into her arms and crouched to pick the two books. One of them was half the size of Les Contes D'Animaux Fumés, not nearly as heavy but enough for her to struggle with the combined weight of the two. She shoved it hastily back into its shelve and crouched again to pick up the second book.

It all happened so quickly. With her wand still between her teeth as the Lumos still shined brightly, Margaret caught a single glimpse at the circular symbol that rippled as her fingertips brushed the tattered cover.

Suddenly the room disappeared. Margaret felt as though a bucket of ice-cold water was emptied on her. A whisper of voices spoke in her head...

"Alfie! Alfie, my friend!"

"I cannot stay. Do you have it? I need you to do me a favour-"

"I have the potion you asked for, Alfie. Calm down. Will you stay if I help-"

"NO! You cannot- You must not stop me... Here. Take this. Bring this to Albus Dumbledore. He would understand."

"Albus Dumbledore? The Transfiguration professor at-"

"-at Hogwarts, yes. He will know. I must go now. I trust you to hand this over to him. Keep it away from... Gellert... at all costs."

"W-where will you go?! Everything is here!"

"You don't understand. This world... it is not... we are not... There was a reason why my ancestors moved away - a very good reason-"

"What are you trying to say, Alfie?"

"Ignatius, my friend. I am sorry. Please, remember me. Remember our friendship... Tell Lucretia I'm truly sorry... and take care of her..."

"Why must you leave?! Grindel-"

"DO NOT SAY HIS NAME! I should have never returned... My family will never be safe here... They understood that; my ancestors did... I must go now... It deeply saddens me. But this is a farewell, my friend. Remember... Toujours Pur La Terre!"

A scream gradually filled the still air.

A sharp pain erupted in Margaret's knees as she collapsed hard without realising it, and dropped both the books as well as her wand in the process. She was back in the Restricted Section, holding her head in her hands, as a scream tore through her throat at the splitting ache she felt in the centre of her skull.

A heartbeat passed where Margaret was mentally incapable of thinking rationally. She did not know what had just happened and she did not have the guts to comprehend it so quickly.

Then she realised she was holding her breath.

Suddenly gasping for air, Margaret shut her eyes, feeling like the shelves were closing in on her. She took time catching her breath, and when her heartbeat wasn't loud in her ears anymore, she blinked heavily. Glancing at the book that had done this to her, she moved away from it fearfully.

Her surroundings were darker than they were before and she understood that her powers were helping her see before even with her Lumos. Margaret grabbed her wand and lit it again, surprised to feel her hand shaking and her arms feeling like lead.

Grabbing the big book assigned to her, she struggled to pick it up and spared a glimpse towards the other blasted book. The circular symbol on it had stopped rippling and the medium-sized book, size of a handbook, lay there as if a harmless muggle object.

But that did not explain why she had heard those voices and why a man named Alfie was leaving. She squinted at it, moving so that the light from her wand fell on the cover of the book. On top of it, in French, was written Toujours Pur: La Terre. However, it was the author's name that took Margaret by surprise.

It said Alfréd Xenakis.

Margaret was broken out of her reverie when a door squeaked open and a set of fast-approaching footsteps neared her.

She hurriedly got to her feet and kicked the smaller book lightly under the shelf and pretended to be struggling to carry the heavy book that Dumbledore had assigned her, which wasn't as much of an act because she was still suffering through the aftereffects of that visage.

Madam Pince let out a piercingly sharp noise. "What are you doing, Miss Xenakis?!"

Margaret looks up with faux innocence and begins to stammer, "M-madam Pince, I'm so sorry. So very sorry... I didn't expect the book to be this large. I'm so sorry, I fell to catch it. I promise it has no damage to it!"

"I heard a scream," Pince narrows her eyes at the girl, staring at her figure in the near-darkness only alight by Margaret's Lumos.

"That was when I fell," she lies smoothly.

Madam Pince stared at her suspiciously, then came closer to examine the shelf from which Margaret at taken the book and misplaced another. Margaret's eyes widened, knowing that Pince knew the library like the back of her hand and would notice the second book gone without much difficulty.

This was it. She was done. Pince would give her detentions and would no doubt spread this to the teachers, and that included Umbridge, who'd ask what book Dumbledore wanted Margaret to find and then ask why she was meeting with him anyway.

Oh no... She was done. Margaret was absolutely done... She should've been more careful, she shouldn't have let her guard down like that... She should've never let Pince find out.

She could not let Pince find out.

Madam Pince gasped and Margaret noticed that the third book she had shoved in hastily was not only upside-down but was also half out of the shelf.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Pince screeches, face contorted with rage. "How dare you go around reading-"

Once again, the room faded away as if made of smoke.

However, this time it wasn't an unfamiliar cold feeling for Margaret even though it was happening out of her control. Margaret's powers had shined through to protect her without her consent...

She watched, as though in a trance, as Madam Pince fell silent, her lips parted and her shoulders dropped. A strange scarlet light flickered in the woman's eyes, swirling like a single wisp between her irises. Margaret's vision had tinted slightly red on the corners and in her head were thoughts of rage that weren't related to her current situation, memories of a faraway scream she had never heard, and images of setting books into shelves of a well-lit part of the library she could not remember coming across.

Lastly, Margaret looked at herself - but it was not from her own eyes, no - where she stood shell-shocked next to the shelf.

As soon as it had come, it was gone. Margaret was back in her own body. She blinked, and then Pince was frowning at her disapprovingly.

"What took you so long?" asks Madam Pince, her tone calmer than the shrieks she was talking in just moments before.

Margaret stared at her, dumbstruck. She could feel the sudden exhaustion crashing over her like a tremendous wave as the hints of red disappeared from her sight. She looked deeply into Pince's eyes, blinking slowly as she did so, but could not find the scarlet reflection she was so sure was there before.

"Are you listening, Miss Xenakis?" Madam Pince snaps her fingers in front of Margaret's face. "Come on, then. You do not have permission to stay here and read. I've made an entry on your library card for you to borrow this book and then return it to the Headmaster when you're done."

As Pince turned her back to her, Margaret straightened the book in the bookcase and shot a fleeting glance to the bottom of the shelf under which she had kicked Toujours Pur: La Terre which she didn't have time to pick up. Not that she wanted to touch it again...

She numbly followed Pince out of the Restricted Section as she scolded her about something. When they reached the front desk, Pince sat down behind the desk and handed Margaret a yellow card that had her name and year on the top and Les Contes D'Animaux Fumés scribbled next to serial number 1.

She took it absentmindedly and almost stumbled out of the library, following the usual path to the Grand Staircase.

What in the glorious bananas just happened?

One moment she was ecstatic to find the book that Dumbledore himself wanted her to read, the next she was having a strange vision that was not related to the future whatsoever, and then she was wishing Pince hadn't seen her blunder.

But then, Pince had stopped telling her off for reading something she was not permitted to. She only looked completely distracted by Margaret's eyes and when she snapped out of it, it was almost like she had... forgotten about the whole conversation, even about Margaret's scream that she had heard.

"Hey, Margie! What're you up to this fine Saturday morning?"

A heavy arm dropped around her shoulders when she was descending down the second-floor staircase that had just secured to the platform she had reached. However, Margaret barely processed the boy's words, only turning to the redheaded figure mindlessly.

"Huh?"

"Yoohoo! Jupiter to Margie?"

A hand moved in front of her face, too close for comfort, and she flinched out of her trance to find George on her right with his arm around her shoulders and Fred walking on her left staring at her with his eyebrows furrowed.

"What?" Margaret snaps, removing his heavy arm and increasing her pace to get rid of the two.

"You alright, Margie?" asks George, sounding slightly surprised and a bit concerned. He exchanged a look with his twin who stayed untypically quiet. "You look rather pale. Have you seen a ghost?"

"Just leave me alone," she tells them, not realising how annoyed she sounded. "I've got better things to do."

Neither took the comment to heart although it did surprise them even more.

George ignores her remark and continues on, "Ghosts aren't uncommon at Hogwarts. Was it Peeves? Bloke's got a reputation for pranks, y'know-"

Margaret stopped abruptly and turned on them menacingly, seething at the two. "Listen; go find something to waste your time on as usual and leave me the hell alone."

This time, the twins looked utterly taken aback. Before Margaret could realise that she had never spoken to the pair of them in such a venomous tone, loud laughter bellowed from the door on her left that led to the dungeon steps and out came Draco Malfoy along with his usual gorillas and Theodore Nott.

"Well, well, well... if it isn't our resident beast with her blood-traitor friends," Draco smirks, his silver eyes meeting Margaret, who's brows furrowed in confusion. "Taking my advice, I see?"

"Why don't you scurry off to daddy, Malfoy?" Fred snarls before Margaret could open her mouth. Not that she had any response for once. Things were happening far too quickly for her to catch up today.

"Told you off good, didn't she," Draco sneers, glaring at Fred. "Go waste your time as usual. Only thing the pair of you are good at."

She frowned as he repeated her words. Her words... Margaret's eyes widened and she looked back up at Fred and George who stayed uncharacteristically silent to Malfoy's jab.

"Wait, guys, I didn't mean it like that," Margaret begins desperately but the two of them give her identical looks of disappointment and slight disgust. Fred lingered, opening his mouth to say something but took a single look at Malfoy and decided against it. The two brushed past her continuing on toward the entrance hall.

She gaped at their retreating figures until they disappeared and took a moment to blink before remembering that Draco was still there, her back facing him. She turned around, not having the energy to muster up a threatening glare, but tried to anyway because of the anger that was bubbling up.

"Why you pompous little cockroach," she grits out, realising that her wand was still in her hand and promptly pointed it at him. Immediately, a wand was pointed back at her by Goyle as Crabbe cracked his knuckles threateningly. Theodore leaned against the wall, watching them all in amusement.

"Oh ho ho," Draco says in a bored tone, rolling his eyes, "you were the one who pissed off those prats anyway."

Draco was determined to prove to his friends that he had seen her eyes glow the other night as the four of them stared intently at her eyes that were still very brown. However, he couldn't help but notice how pale and tired she looked, much like she did that night. She had told the Weasels to leave her alone too, as she had told him.

For a fleeting moment, he paused and looked at her. Really looked at her. Something was wrong, something he hadn't seen before...

"You ruined it though!" Margaret shouts, her wand trembling in her hand.

Draco felt a surge of déjà vu threatening to crash over him with the way she spoke; as if he had been spoken to like that before - as if it wasn't the first time he was living this moment. But the feeling didn't last long because she briskly turned away.

Margaret realised that there was no way she'd win this argument with the state she was in. So, she turned on her heel and climbed down the rest of the marble staircase as quickly as could.

"Wait- Mag- Xenakis!"

But she did not look back at Draco.

when it came to talking to the twins. Tired and miserable, she had retreated to her dorm for the rest of the day, wishing to just disappear.

The book that she had got from the Restricted Section, Les Contes D'Animaux Fumés, was, much to her chagrin, a book written entirely in French about The Tales of Smoke Animals. Or, Patronus, to be more specific. It had this certain feature on its cover where the 'smoke animal' took the form of the Patronus of the person holding the book if they knew what their Patronus was.

Margaret had never produced one in her life and didn't know what animal represented her inner self so the cover remained an image of a moving wisp of milky light - a non-corporeal Patronus. The book gave instructions and a lot of unnecessary history on the spell and its uses, claiming to make the reader perfectly capable of producing one by the time they had reached the end.