Margaret was up at the crack of dawn.

As she saw Ginny and Hermione in their respective beds fast asleep, she wondered why couldn't she be more like a normal teenager who slept like a baby until someone woke them up. Wide awake now, she had no other option but to stretch and sit up in her bed.

Margaret's usual crow's nest of bed hair wasn't present at the moment. Instead, it was tied into two perfect french braids, courtesy of Ginny.

She took out the scrunchies and used her fingers to undo them as she walked to the adjoined washroom. She looked at herself in the mirror, ignoring how sick she actually looked and admired the beach waves in her hair.

If everything else wasn't perfect, at least her hair could be.

Last night, the three girls were up long after Hermione came back and filled them in on all that the Order members had said, and speculated on what they didn't say. Margaret only felt slightly guilty for withholding information they so desperately wanted but reminded herself that the adults have not told them everything for a reason.

The two Gryffindor girls were kind enough to then spend some time sorting out their clothes and keeping aside some day-wears and some pyjamas that they thought would look great on Margaret. The only problem was that she towered over both of them by solid three inches.

Either way, a pair of Ginny's brand new pyjamas and an oversized t-shirt fit her good enough to sleep in. She borrowed a pair of Hermione's lose jeans and a white blouse for a go-to outfit until she was able to go buy her own clothes.

While changing into the said outfit for the day after taking a shower, Margaret wondered how she was going to pay for her stuff here. Whoever sent her here doesn't seem to have thought about it.

The telekinetic girl left the room as quietly as possible, her schoolbag over her shoulder, the only belonging she had with her in this strange place. Silent as a snake, she descended down the staircase, ignoring the house-elf heads on the wall.

Everything seemed to be going perfectly until she passed by those long-moth eaten curtains and Mrs Black suddenly decided that 6 AM would be an excellent time to wake the whole house.

The curtains opened dramatically and the painting started yelling.

"STAINS OF DISHONOUR! FILTHY HALF-BREEDS IN THE NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK! MUDBLOODS, CHILDREN OF FILTH!"

"Holy Jesus," Margaret says quietly, a hand on her chest due to the fright the bloody talking painting gave her. She looked closely at the picture, wondering if that was a high-definition television or an actually moving painting.

"What are you looking at?!"

Margaret jumped back as the previously raging painted lady suddenly narrowed her artistically realistic eyes at the girl.

She couldn't help but ask. "Are you talking to me?"

"Do you see anyone else around, girl?" the painting snaps before narrowing her eyes again, seemingly trying to come closer to the other-worldly girl. "It's not possible..."

"What?"

"What's your name, girl?"

Margaret tilted her head slightly wondering why this painting lady was still acknowledging her in a normal tone rather than trying to tear her eardrums apart.

"My name is Margaret," she replies after a moment, quite taken aback when the painting lady gave her a dumb look.

"What is your last name, you fool," shouts another painting down the hall that Margaret hadn't notice before. She glares at the old dude in it.

"Xenakis."

Mrs Black's eyes, if they could, would've fallen out of the painting with the way they widen. Margaret wasn't sure she wanted that mental image in her head, so she shook it off, left to wonder why the lady seemed so startled to hear her last name.

"Xenakis? As in Alfred Xenakis?" the lady in the painting breathes. Not literally, of course.

"Uh-"

"Margaret!" A voice lidded with sleep speaks loudly from the top of the stairs. She recognises it to be Sirius.

"Oh, good morning," she replies kindly as makes his way down the stairs. "Just having a chat with your mother."

The Azkaban escapee gave her an odd look, now standing beside her.

"My mother doesn't 'chat' with anyone, she prefers to shriek in front of large audiences."

"YOU! DISHONOUR TO OUR FAMILY! BLOOD-TRAITOR-"

"Shut up, you old hag!"

With that, he closes the curtains across the painting, albeit with a lot of effort as Mrs Black continues to scream obscenities at him. Margaret would've helped, had Sirius not forbidden her to do so.

"Don't worry, I got this - SHUT UP FOR MERLIN'S SAKE - you can go to the kitchen-"

She didn't leave, waiting for him to be done fighting with the curtains. When all fell quiet again except the occasional muffled complains of the other members in the house, Sirius motioned Margaret to follow him to the kitchen. He spotted the bag on her shoulder and looked at her meaningfully with a hint of mischief.

"Hope you weren't considering running away," he teases.

Margaret snorts. "You think I didn't see the deadbolts on the door? Besides, even if I manage to escape, where would I even go? I don't fancy running into some Death Eaters."

"I guess that's true. So we're both stuck here, essentially," mutters Sirius gloomily.

"Maybe," she replies but the idea of being stuck in this house for god knows how long scares her very soul.

She doesn't understand what it is but it always seems as if something is watching her, something lurking in the shadows. She hasn't even been consciously here for 24 hours but the eery feeling keeps making her look over her shoulder and her powers start buzzing beneath her skin.

"Well, I'm not the best cook, so we'd have to wait till Molly wakes up and makes breakfast," Sirius announces as the two of them take seats on the table, Margaret taking the head seat near the door. He gave her a tired smile. "Do what you want kiddo. I'm going to read the newspaper and feed my stolen hippogriff in a bit."

"Wait; Buckbeak?" Margaret perks up suddenly.

"Yes," Sirius frowns. "You know about him?"

"Yeah. Do you think I can meet him later?"

"Sure! None of the kids here want to. Except for Harry, of course. Gets lonely sometimes, that hippogriff does," says Sirius.

"I would love to meet him," she confirms.

Half an hour later, Sirius was gone, the Daily Prophet abandoned carelessly after he said something about rubbish news. Margaret sat there idly for the first few minutes but then she took one of her notebooks out, doodling meaninglessly whilst her mind was elsewhere.

Margaret was starting to realise why she could've been brought here. Her powers were useless in her own world. She couldn't have done anything without the government hunting her down even if she tried to do the good kid, superhero, mysterious crime-fighting thing. What she could do was so unusual in her world, especially when special effects and CGI weren't involved.

If she was where she thought she was because Sirius was still alive then the year was 1995, and if she could get out and confirm that she was, in fact, in England, then she'd be able to tell whether or not the time frame was correct.

In another fifteen minutes, the house goes from eerily quiet to entirely chaotic.

Mrs Weasley came into the kitchen with her husband and oldest son Bill, who still eyed Margaret warily, while the other two greeted her kindly asking her how she was feeling. Soon enough, pots and pans started working on their own.

Margaret watched them in fascination and she realised how the companionship of Mr and Mrs Weasley was so underrated. They worked together so well even if the task was as mundane as making breakfast.

The twins Apparated again, giving Margaret another fright and this time the two of them laughed at her. She rolled her eyes and got back to her doodling. Ginny and Hermione came in only a few minutes later and took seats on Margaret's right.

"Good morning, Margaret. The outfit looks great on you," Hermione compliments.

"I see your hair has been curled," Ginny teases.

"Thanks, you guys," says Margaret with an earnest smile, before they fall into a casual conversation about what they're planning to do for the rest of the holidays. Harry and Ron soon join them, sitting across the table, giving inputs.

Harry, for some reason, seemed as if he was keen on avoiding Margaret's eyes. She let it slide, for now, knowing he had a lot on his mind.

It was then when the doorbell rang, and Mrs Black took the opportunity to announce her part-existence to the world again, causing groans of annoyance sound across the house.

It stopped a few minutes later, and soon Remus and Sirius walked into the room along with four other people who held an air of importance that made the room fall completely silent.

Margaret sat up straighter on her chair, as did Harry.

"Oh, Professor Dumbledore," greeted Mrs Weasley. "I presumed you'd be here for lunch."

Margaret glanced at the tall and thin elderly man with silver hair and beard so long that both can be tucked into his belt. His glassy wise eyes behind his half-moon spectacles met Margaret's dark ones for a split second, already aware of her presence.

Behind him, walks in a slim man with shoulder-length dark, greasy hair, sallow skin and clad in dark robes. He seemed to be walking with purpose, looking at no one in particular.

The third woman was here last night too, Nymphadora Tonks in all her pink-hair glory. She winked at Margaret then proceeded to almost trip over the foot of a chair.

Lastly, a dark-skinned man dressed in blue robes and a matching cap followed Dumbledore and took a seat next to Arthur Weasley.

"Yes, I hope I'm not too much of a bother. I hoped to meet Miss Xenakis as early as possible," Dumbledore replies in his deep voice. "If you wouldn't mind, Molly, I'd like all the Order members to take a seat."

For some reason, Harry's shoulders slumped. Margaret's alert eyes did not miss this, but again, she knew that he would've felt that Dumbledore would be here to speak with him before his trial today.

"Yes, of course, Professor. Kids - could you please-"

"That wouldn't be required today," Dumbledore interrupts, not unkindly. "This is no matter for an official meeting, not yet. However, whatever that is discussed must stay within these walls. If anyone fails to keep this to themselves, the consequences would certainly be severe...I believe it is very important that everyone is properly aware of the situation with the unexpected arrival of Miss Xenakis."

A series of agreement chorus from the young members of the room, all seemingly excited at the prospect of being 'involved' for once. Some people have to adjust to smaller stools around the kitchen as there aren't enough chairs.

Margaret still hadn't moved her eyes from the said Dumbledore, even as he and everyone else took seats on the long table, the sounds of utensils stopping. She realized that she had accidentally taken the head chair near the door as Dumbledore takes a seat on the other head of the table.

She had no choice but to face him.

Her hand reached up to make sure that her hair still covered the nasty scar that spiked pain once in a while.

With all the eyes on her and the atmosphere suddenly tensed. She suddenly felt as if she was ten again and had just gotten back home from school to find unexpected guests at home - the relatives of her family that she never liked. But as she looked around, she only found reassuring expressions on the faces of the adults and teenagers alike, not the sugar-coated smiles of her family members. It eased her nerves a little.

"Miss Xenakis, I'm Professor Albus Dumbledore."

"Please, sir, call me Margaret," she requests, noticing that the Headmaster's eyes flickered briefly to her left.

Before she could figure out why something sharp prodded the inside of her head. The intrusion was so sudden that it made her gasp inaudibly as her ears ringed for a split second as if she was in a vacuum and the face of her brother flashed in front of her eyes.

Just like that, her guards were back up and her vision tinted red, powers surfacing on their own. Her eyes darted from one person to another, landing on the greasy-haired man to her left.

Margaret narrowed her eyes to meet his unblinking gaze before yelling in his head:

"STOP trying to poke my mind!"

His reaction was instantaneous. Obviously taken aback, he pressed back into his chair with such force that he would have toppled over had it not been for his quick instincts and wandless magic to set him back up straight.

Snickers erupted around the room, no one except the man, Dumbledore and Margaret knowing the reason behind his actions.

"Careful now, Snivellus. Don't want a senior citizen such as yourself to have a cardiac arrest," Sirius teases from a few chairs down, making the younger ones in the room laugh. However, Snape didn't move his scrutinising gaze from Margaret's glaring red-tinted eyes, not even to snap at Sirius.

She moved her gaze back to Dumbledore only when Snape narrowed his eyes and looked away. The old wizard had been observing everything from behind his half-moon spectacles, his face expressionless. He blinked and his smile was back.

That was when it dawned on Margaret that Snape - someone who she knew was (is?) skilled at Legilimency, someone who's supposedly fictional - just tried to invade her mind. Fear grips her heart in tight clutches and words tumble out of her mouth on their own accord.

"Where am I?" she questions, her normally emotionless voice now laced with slight panic.

The Headmaster gives the girl a good-natured smile.

"Miss Xenakis, welcome to the Wizarding World."