appeared down the dimly lit corridor. Margaret approached it, knocked soundly and waited; feeling nervous but a bit excited.

The lock on the door turned and it opened with a creaking sound that bounced off the empty corridor. On the other side appeared the Head of Gryffindor House, Professor Minerva McGonagall, in the most informal wear Margaret had ever seen her in - a light coloured dressing gown with a grey sweater, her hair falling over her shoulders - her form lit by the light of her wand.

"Miss Xenakis, what are you doing here?" Professor McGonagall asks; her voice as stern as it was in classes with no indication of sleep in it, but if Margaret paid close attention, there was a hint of concern. McGonagall glanced over her head towards where the Fat Lady portrait was. "Is everyone all right?"

"Everyone is fine, Professor," Margaret says reassuringly, now realising how out of breath she sounded. Perhaps she was more nervous than she believed. "It's me... something weird happened."

"Was it so 'weird' that it could not have waited until the morning?" asks McGonagall, her lips pressing into a thin line. Margaret could tell that her presence was rather unnerving for the old professor, likely due to all her knowledge.

"It could've waited, but I didn't think it should," Margaret replies determinedly.

"Well then, Miss Xenakis, what happened?" McGonagall questions; opening the door a little wider so that she could look at her properly.

"Er," Margaret was now realising how odd this was going to sound, "I think I Apparated - well, I prefer the term teleported - but I think that happened and I appeared back inside the castle."

That was not as good of an explanation as she had hoped it to be, and McGonagall merely raised an eyebrow. The hint of concern was gone, apparently she had dealt with imaginary claims of young students for far too long.

"Are you certain it wasn't a dream?" asks the Professor, a bit exasperated.

"I am sure, Professor," Margaret says confidently. "We were outside in Hagrid's hut-"

"'We'?

Colour rose up Margaret cheeks and she mentally apologised to the trio. "Er, Harry, Ron, Hermione and I..." she says quietly.

"And what, may I ask, were you four doing outside the castle at this ungodly hour?" Professor McGonagall reprimands, causing Margaret to gulp dryly. No adult had ever intimidated her in this way.

"That's not the point, Professor," Margaret drags on boldly, "We went there after dinner and lost track of time, that's all. But the point is, Ron and Hermione started arguing and I had this horrible headache since I told off old toad-face-"

"Do not refer to Professor Umbridge as 'old toad-face', Miss Xenakis," interrupts McGonagall critically.

"I could've meant Pansy Parkinson, Professor," Margaret says before she could stop herself. There was not a single hint of amusement on McGonagall's face, so Margaret clears her throat awkwardly before continuing, "Well, you see, I had this headache so bad I thought I was going to faint and Ron and Hermione weren't helping - not that I blame them! So I closed my eyes and pictured my dorm room like I had left it this morning and how much I wanted to be there and... I felt this strange pull... and then all sounds disappeared. When I opened my eyes, I was sitting at the desk in my room."

Professor McGonagall was frowning, the only sign that showed that she had listened. She hums quietly, "Perhaps you were too tired, Miss Xenakis, and did not remember coming back up to the castle-"

"I'm not forgetting anything!" Margaret says desperately. "You can ask Hagrid, or Harry or Hermione or Ron; they were there, they saw me vanish!"

"We shall discuss this matter when the four of them are awake then," McGonagall tells her, although Margaret could tell that she did not believe her one bit. It was confirmed when McGonagall continues in a softer tone, "It seems like you could use some sleep, dear,"

"But Professor-"

"Miss Xenakis, this castle has been protected against Apparition since it was built ten centuries ago," McGonagall informs austerely. "Only the Headmaster or Headmistress can, and give the permission to, Apparate or Disapparate within these walls."

"I can prove it," the words burst out before Margaret could think them through. From her own unsure expression, it was no surprise that McGonagall looked reasonably disbelieved and exasperated.

Without waiting for a reply, Margaret turned away, facing the high-arch window diagonal from the door and shutting her eyes. She wondered where this boldness had come from and what it would lead her to given she failed; but surely if she can reappear within the castle walls, she can disappear from inside too, right? She hoped she would find out soon as this was already quite a hopeless case. Nobody would believe her even if her friends and Hagrid gave their words.

So, she pictured her desired destination and thought of her two weeks long practice that may not have been enough to master her powers, but were at least a start to understanding them.

Margaret heard Professor McGonagall start to reprimand her for disrupting both their sleep this late at night, but she kept her focus on the mental image of her room, her eyes tightly shut.

The window slightly open, the light above dim, the bed comfortably soft, the desk properly arranged, the bathroom door shut, the school uniform laying haphazardly on the floor from which she had changed out of... That was where she wanted to be. That was where she needed to be.

"Miss Xenakis, if you do not return to bed this instance, you will not only have one detention with Professor Umbridge tomorrow but-"

A sheer determination to prove herself filled her very being, her heart pounding against her ribcage, feeling like it would burst out at any moment. She had to prove herself, she had to.

There was a slight hammering pain in her temples in sync with her thudding heart and an odd pull that started from her navel to the small of her back and then... And then there was nothing.

"-with me as well for... Miss Xenakis?"

But Margaret was nowhere in sight. In the place she was standing a blink of an eye before, lit up by Professor McGonagall's Lumos, were wisps of red smoke that vanished into thin air a split second later.

Professor McGonagall froze on her doorstep as though she had been stunned. Quite stably, she outstretched her hand and the light grew brighter. "Homenum Revelio."

The corridor remained silent and utterly empty of any soul, unwilling to dwell into the depths of unknown.

Professor McGonagall stood quite still. Precisely two minutes later came a figure stumbling down the hallway, huffing and puffing.

"Professor-"

"Get inside," says McGonagall shortly, stepping aside to let the strange girl in. As soon as Margaret had stepped inside, the door was shut behind them.

Professor McGonagall waved her wand and the crystal chandelier on the high ceiling lit up, illuminating a room that seemed to be a lounge was very similar in furnishings to the Gryffindor common room. The surfaces were archaic brown, walls a royal red, and other decor objects golden as a Galleon. The wall on the left of the door was entirely covered from floor to ceiling with in a wide bookcase filled with numerous books. Past this wall were wooden stairs that seemed to spiral up to a level above. The silence of the night was filled by the tick-tock of the grandmother clock above the mantel of the fireplace which was next to a line of glass windows.

"Are you absolutely certain you are all right? Any Splinches? Any dizziness?" asks Professor McGonagall, leading her to the dark red L-shaped couch in the centre of the room.

"No, nothing, I'm fine," Margaret shakes her head, and then noticing the fatigue in her voice, adds, "Well, I'm a bit tired..."

"Sit," McGonagall commands, pouring a glass of water from the jug and materialising a plate of cookies out of nowhere. "Have a cookie, you look rather pale, Miss Xenakis. Then I want you to tell me everything."

Margaret silently obeyed the request since she did feel as exhausted as she probably looked. A weakness had spread though her, making her thoughts fuzzy and distracted even as she ate. For some reason, she felt less tired than she had while in Hagrid's cabin and wondered if her powers were bothering her because they needed a release, as she had not succumbed to their desire to lose control in front of Umbridge.

Even though they had acted impulsively before, Margaret realised with a start that they had actually obeyed her for the first time in a while to do something important when she was trying to prove to Professor McGonagall that she had vanished and reappeared inside the castle.

Putting down the glass of water, Margaret turned to the Head of House gratefully. "Thank you, Professor."

"Don't mention it, Xenakis," says McGonagall dismissively, but not unkindly. "Now, if you're feeling all right, I would like you to tell me if this has ever happened before."

"It has; once when I was in Canada and then an hour ago, and both times I had no control over it. However, I did have full control when I teleported to my bedroom in front of you," Margaret replies, wringing her hands together in her lap.

"I hear you were training with Professor Dumbledore. Is he aware of this?" McGonagall asks.

"He is aware of what my powers are - or at least what I am able to do. I spoke to him about this but it hasn't happened yet in front of him... Oh and he did mention that magical wards may not be capable of stopping my magic," Margaret tells her.

As she spoke she sounded more nervous than pleased about her extraordinary magic. Her eyes moved from one spot to another on the coffee table anxiously, rather than gleaming with merriment and narcissism. These facts alone spoke volumes to McGonagall than anything Margaret could verbalise.

Professor McGonagall looked thoughtful, an expression of concern constantly etched to her face. A moment later, she sighed decidedly.

"Students who have attended Hogwarts have done extraordinary feats, as I am sure you already know," begins McGonagall. "Every one of them has had diverse ideas of greatness. What you just did, furthermore all that you are able to do, Miss Xenakis, is something I have never seen in my entire career here at Hogwarts. Although Professor Dumbledore mentioned that you are unquestionably an able witch, I did not expect such powers to show themselves so soon... Alas, it seems magic would never fail to surprise me."

Professor McGonagall gave Margaret a small but warm smile, her intelligent brown eyes twinkling in a way similar to Dumbledore's but with a less of the knowing glint that Dumbledore's blue ones always held, and instead with a bit more of understanding. It relaxed Margaret a little.

"I do believe it would be best if you go and get a good night's rest, for the time being," says McGonagall, waving her wand. The plate of cookies and the glass of water disappeared. "I will not be incorrect to believe that Professor Dumbledore would like to be told about what happened first thing tomorrow morning."

"Professor, would Harry, Hermione and Ron... be in trouble for staying out too late?" Margaret asks sheepishly after a beat of silence.

"Potter, Granger and Weasley are prone to get into trouble without my interference," states Professor McGonagall. The clever professor deliberately pretended to ignore Margaret's grin and glanced at the clock. "Although they must be told the risks of the time we live in, as they seem to have forgotten; as has Hagrid. Now, off you go. And, oh - Miss Xenakis, I would like you to meet me after breakfast tomorrow."

"Okay... All right," Margaret breathes, getting to her feet. "Happy Halloween-"

"Just a moment," says McGonagall suddenly, now standing with her hand clasped in front of her. Margaret paused in her tracks and turned around fully to face her.

"Yes, Professor?"

Professor McGonagall gave the girl an earnest smile. "Happy birthday, dear."

streamed through the balcony, lighting up the circular office of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore as the three occupants in the room discussed the happenings of the previous night.

Professor McGonagall had brought her there before Margaret could even wish good morning to Harry, Ron and Hermione; the three of whom looked very confused to see her leaving with the Head of House after she had barely had a cup of coffee.

McGonagall had let Margaret explain what had happened in Hagrid's cabin (there was, again, a knowing glint in Dumbledore's eyes), only adding to confirm that she had seen the girl vanish into thin air within the walls of the castle - at which point, Margaret wondered if Dumbledore's silver eyebrows could rise any further up his forehead.

Margaret contemplated whether Dumbledore would be happy with her sort-of achievement or disappointed that she failed at controlling her powers to this magnitude after all the training they had gone through.

There was a long silence before Dumbledore speaks up. What he says, however, has Margaret entirely dumbfounded.

"Do you think, Margaret, whether you would be able to travel to a destination further than Hogwarts? Say, perhaps, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place?"

"Go where?!"

"Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place," repeats Dumbledore with a pleasant smile on his face.

Margaret slumped in her chair in disbelief. Meanwhile, Fawkes the phoenix sang a lovely melody in the background, a rather contrasting sound to the sudden shift of atmosphere in the office.

Never the one to doubt Albus Dumbledore it would have been truly amusing to see Professor McGonagall look like she doubted whether the Headmaster had even spoken English, but Margaret was too busy reeling from shock to notice.

"But Albus, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place is in London! It could be severely dangerous," says Professor McGonagall, for once looking as taken aback as Margaret did. "She has no real experience in Apparation. She could be hurt - she could die!"

"Do you not have faith in the abilities of Miss Xenakis, Minerva," says Dumbledore, looking at the Transfiguration professor over his half-moon spectacles.

"Is that the point?" McGonagall retorts back.

"Indeed," Dumbledore nods, looking back at Margaret in front of him. "Although only if you feel capable enough to - teleport, is it? - to Sirius Black's house."

"Sir, it's not that I don't feel capable to do it," says Margaret slowly, trying to wrap her head around the turn of events. "It's just... I don't know how far my powers could take me."

"I agree, we do not know the limitations of your magic," Dumbledore hums. "Nevertheless, I do not believe your magic should harm you in any manner if you fail to reach your desired destination. It has always worked in order to protect you instinctively even at times you did not want it to, has it not?"

Margaret opened her mouth to argue but closed it again, realising that Dumbledore was right. Even times where she had 'lost control' of her powers, they were merely acting to protect her, and more often than not they had just shown up when she had not realised that she needed them.

"I guess I can try," Margaret mutters unsurely.

Headmaster Dumbledore smiled. "Marvellous. I will write to Sirius to let him know that you might be arriving."

With that, Dumbledore waved his hand and a parchment appeared.

Margaret paid no more mind to her surroundings and closed her eyes, trying her best to relax in her seat as Professor McGonagall's voice drowned out behind her - questions about how would they know where she ended up if she does not reach Grimmauld Place, about what would happen if she died or ended up Splinching herself; all the answers that Dumbledore gave, the answers Margaret needed to know as well, but she felt strangely at ease.

If she was being honest, she had only ever felt this confused when at the age of 14 random objects started floating around her at her command. She wondered now, as she had then, if she was going crazy for thinking it was natural. First and foremost, she was willingly testing the limits of her magic - something she had never done, neither in her world nor in the wizarding world - secondly, McGonagall was correct about this might being potentially fatal, and Margaret asked herself why she had agreed to it so quickly.

Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, why was she keeping blind faith in Dumbledore? Something she had pleaded herself not to do for so long, knowing very well how well with weaving words the old wizard was...

The answer came from within her, a voice that spoke subconsciously, 'It is not Dumbledore you have faith in, but yourself.'

It spoke the truth that Margaret had not yet realised. She was beginning to trust her powers and letting them free instead of dictating them. They did not have to fight for control; they had never tried to possess her. As Dumbledore said - they had only ever tried to protect her. It was she who viewed them as an exterior, as a bother, whereas they only arose when she felt strong emotions, knowing that she needed them.

Teleporting last night in front of McGonagall was the only time she had ever been in control or worked along with her powers. It felt different than it normally did; they did not tingle underneath her skin, warningly itching up her neck. They simply... flowed. And it felt right.

For now, at least for the purpose of trying, Margaret had to trust them and focus on one place within the dark walls of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. The first thing that came to her mind was the ancient long table in the kitchen where she had been welcomed into the Wizarding World by Albus too-many-middle-names Dumbledore.

A small smile graced her face at the same time she felt a series of tingles in her fingertips and tiptoes, as well as a pull around her navel.

"Ah well," says Dumbledore pleasantly, looking up from the rustling red wisps of smoke on the empty seat in front of him to a very angry McGonagall, "looks as though Miss Xenakis beat us. Fawkes?"

The red and gold bird came swooping in front of the Headmaster and picked up the scroll. There was a whoosh as Fawkes disappeared and reappeared within a moment, leaving behind just a burst of flame. The phoenix then proceeded to the balcony railing to sing his peaceful melody.

"Are you certain-?"

"When have I ever been wrong, Minerva," asks Dumbledore, a hint of amusement in his tone.

"Very modest, Albus," replies Professor McGonagall valiantly. Dumbledore merely chuckles. "What about the Fidelius Charm around the house?"

"As she has already been to Grimmauld Place, she now has the capability to appear inside it at will. It is truly interesting to see how her magic differs from ours. I have faith in Margaret's abilities; I would not have suggested this had I not been confident in my observations in these past two weeks... And perhaps, she could use some likely company today."