Day 3: The Flower

Margaret was exhausted; barely conscious under her covers she could barely process her own thoughts as she traveled back and forth into dreamland, as if on a swing.
Her body was fine, aching for exertion in fact, but her mind and her heart were screaming at her to make it all stop, to get away from everything.
A soft croon soon accompanied by loud crunching sounds brought the girl back to her senses; the comforting smell of wood, fire and familiar fabrics filled her nostrils, the oh so distinct air and warmth of her cherished dormitories she had grown so fond of and more importantly her dear friend, unfortunately feasting on a poor creature.
There was nothing she could do about it, she was too out of it to properly react to the murder that just took place on a towel in the corner of the room; slowly becoming fully aware, a sense of dread filled her heart at the thought of the many birds and rodents roaming the Castle.
Jumping out of bed with her wand in hand, she bolted towards Margot to appease her mind, she felt slightly ill as she approached the still feasting creature as thoughts buzzed around loudly in her head: "I'm home!" "Margot doesn't roam the Castle, she couldn't have killed anything... Or... Anyone." "I'm tall! Fast!" "But what if..?"
Holding her breath, she illuminated the fluffy feline and her bloodstained towel: a half eaten grey mouse and a very proud matagot welcomed her light, the big green eyes flashing back at her with a sweet mix of a purr and a meow. She smiled.
"Poor thing..." she thought, as her friend resumed her meal.
Returning to her bed with a long sigh, she reminded herself to clean up the mess before the elves were met with the unpleasant sight. The comforting atmosphere, fatigue and especially relief quickly lulled her back into drowsiness; a sudden heavy weight on her chest and powerful, loud vibrations dealt the finishing blow as she fell asleep, her right hand deep in her matagot's fur and a smile on her face.

Margaret was cold, light and unfortunately awake.
A loud buzzing in her ears and a splitting headache accompanied the disappointing sight of the "new" dormitories; she slowly caressed her chest, lamenting the disappearance of her cat while annoyed that she couldn't clean up her own mess.
Stretching her limbs with a satisfied sigh, she smiled at her augurey and looked out of the window, the one thing she did enjoy in this otherwise drab room.
The foggy valley was illuminated by the rising sun in a spectacular way, making it look like a warm and welcoming cup of tea, it made her all the more eager to exercise despite her headache.

The cold morning wind contrasted heavily against the previously pictured cup of tea, biting her face like Licorice Snaps, still, the feeling of her lungs filling with fresh air was unlike anything else and an excited smile spread across her face as she indulged her daily ritual.
Slowly setting foot in the water to get her body accustomed to its temperature, the girl shivered, down to her prized swimsuit she could feel the sharp lick of the wind against her whole body; she closed her eyes, focusing on the feelings and unaware of the water she was unconsciously levitating around her.
Exhaling with a satisfied shiver, she opened her eyes to a surprising but welcome sight: a dark green creature approached her from the depth of the lake; crouching and extending her hand, she waited for the creature to get closer, a warm smile on her face as she whispered. "Good morning little lady."
She knew kelpies were supposed to be dangerous but she couldn't resist the adorable and curious creature; filled with anticipation, Margaret wiggled her fingers as the horse-shaped kelp creature crept closer and closer.
It rubbed its face against her hand, she smiled and returned the affection, gently caressing the creature's head.
"Do you want to swim with me?" she asked, smiling, even though her thoughts were filled with a mix disgust at the creature's texture and sogginess; and affection for the beautiful and apparently kind Fantastic Beast™.

A previously cynical observer smiled gently at the sight of the odd duo swimming across the lake, he expected a bloodbath but he was proven wrong: the water demon had made a friend.
Lost in thought, he observed the two of them for a while, before slowly walking towards the castle, his mind filled with ideas; thoughts, surprising thoughts.

Giving the kelpie one last rub, Margaret left the cold lake water and donned her warm clothes, enjoying the difference in temperature she closed her eyes and basked in the feeling for a moment before checking her watch: she still had plenty of time.
Not only did she exercise every morning, but she had taken the habit of gathering herbs and meeting critters around the Castle grounds; a lot had changed around the valley and she greatly enjoyed finding out exactly how.
Most students would picture themselves walking around with a basket, maybe sitting down for a meal, but Margaret wasn't like most students, she was in fact sprinting around the grounds at dawn, with surprising respect for the rules as she avoided trespassing.
It could have made an interesting subject of gossip if her appearance wasn't so unique: a mysterious figure, running across the valley at dawn; the figure wasn't so mysterious as only she and Ivy had white hair and she towered over her fellow Gryffindor; the figure was also known for stopping to pet the wild matagots, toads, butterflies, it talked to mushrooms, inspected sticks; its behaviour was surprisingly childish for what was unmistakably Margaret.

Excitedly approaching the "Toad Zone", Margaret spotted a figure squatting in the middle of the knot: a green haired girl, Hufflepuffing her cheeks like a frog in front of the judgmental gaze of grumpy toads.
They were obviously busy, and even though she lamented not being able to hear them sing the white haired girl chuckled at the unique sight.
Though the girl called out to her, Margaret gritted her teeth and walked away towards the Castle.
"There you are." said a familiar voice: Elliot Evers.
She clicked her tongue and turned to face him, not quite looking his way. He waited for her to say something; she didn't.
Rolling his eyes in annoyance, the boy reached into his pocket and produced a Moly flower.
"A gift." he said, as he approached her to attach it to her lapel; she jumped at the touch.
"Did I prick you?" he smiled.
She shook her head, looking at the lake.
"There." he said proudly "It suits you, makes you stand out, as it should be."
She frowned quizzically, still looking at the water.
"A reward for your efforts, the Headmistress asked me to fetch you, and she didn't sound angry." said the boy with a toothy grin. "The better you do, the better I do." he added.
"Understood." replied the girl before walking away.
Elliot was annoyed: Advanced spells? Quidditch? Girls his age? All of these he understood, mastered, but this one child stumped him. What kind of girl doesn't smile when her handsome mentor offers her a flower? Clicking his tongue he grabbed his training Snitch and observed the sphere for a moment.

Already on edge from waking up on the wrong foot, today's classes worsened Margaret's mood even more: How did the kind of sweater a potter received for Christmas on his first year at Hogwarts relate in any way to History of Magic? Why did everyone know that one specific potter and what kind of pots did he craft to become so famous?
It didn't feel like a class: it felt like a fanclub meeting, and most of the facts they were asked to memorize were oddly specific and completely anecdotic; the name of the potter's friend's cat; what kind of game his friend enjoyed, and after displaying Margaret's shocking obliviousness in front of the whole class, the professor simply gave up on the girl and left her to her own devices, utterly confused.
Thankfully she excelled at the relevant subjects and salvaged her marks for displaying excellent knowledge of somewhat obscure facts, getting confused again when she was praised for not mixing up two wizards with completely different names.

Fidgeting with her hands, Margaret traversed the corridors briskly towards the Headmistress' office, followed by a poltergeist greatly enjoying her reaction to loud noises; the paintings and ghosts avoided her but Peeves certainly didn't care that she was roaming the castle once more; did he even notice?
No matter how many times in a row, no matter the sound, she jumped; the poltergeist tried everything: dropping vases, plates, yelling, whistling; he would've died of laughter if he was alive.
With deep marks in her palms left by her nails, Margaret finally reached the Headmistress' office, free from Peeves who had left to pester another poor soul.

"Wronski Feint." she said, a little quieter than she expected, her voice croaking slightly.
The office was almost as she remembered; her mind reeled back "I've never been here, why do I know this room..?" she thought.
Looking up, she observed the paintings: most of them were familiar faces, with only a few she didn't recognize; noting the absence of her own Headmaster she concluded the current Headmistress really liked Quidditch.
Sitting on the desk was a tabby cat, strikingly similar to the one she encountered previously; smiling gently, she approached the animal and whispered gently "Hello, there..."
Perhaps unwilling to lose herself to her student's attention, the Headmistress jumped down her desk and turned into her human form, to the exasperation of the young Gryffindor who was now sighing and rolling her eyes.
"Good evening, dear."
"You could have told me." bluntly cut the child "Good evening Professor"
"One tends to forget such thing when old age catches up." smiled and winked the lady, before sneaking a glance towards her predecessor's portrait, hoping he didn't hear that.
Margaret stayed silent.
"Matching flowers?" she remarked "It seems your mentor is quite fond of you."
"Matching?"
"Mhm" nodded the Headmistress.
Another silence.
"I called you here for a reason, would you care to guess?" said the lady, looking above her glasses.
"No." answered the child. "I didn't mean to sound rude..." she thought.
Taken aback, the Headmistress chuckled.
"Fascinating, isn't she?" said a voice from the wall: an elderly wizard, the one from the Chocolate Frog Card.
Margaret looked at the portrait, turned back towards the Headmistress and guessed "Professor... Humble Door?"
The portrait erupted in laughter. "Wonderful!"
The girl faced the Headmistress again. "Is it about electives? I wasn't asked... I'd like... Alchemy... And Wandlore."
The professors chuckled warmly, proud of the eager Gryffindor.
"All in due time." answered McGonagall.

"May I, Minerva?" asked the portrait, the woman answered with her hand towards the child.
"You remind me of a witch, my dear... A true Lioness, Gryffindor Head Girl, and though she appeared cold as ice, she cared very much for her fellow students, no matter the house."
Margaret pointed at herself, quizzically, the portrait nodded.
"However." Dumbledore smiled "For some reason, I only remembered her from a dusty vial that accidentally fell in my pensieve... Odd, isn't it?"
"I'm... Not sure what you're talking about... Professor." answered the confused student.
"That girl was unmistakably you, my dear." interrupted Professor McGonagall "The Sorting Hat, the Book of Admittance, the portraits, the ghosts, even the Castle itself, all of them remember you."
"But I'm not... I was not Head Girl." she felt a shiver down her spine, her predicament had taken a turn she didn't want it to: she was in the future.
"You will be." answered Professor Dumbledore, calmly, as he was stuck in a portrait and couldn't rush at her and grab her shoulders.
"Please do not tell me about my future." interrupted Margaret.
The two professors shared a smile.

"The pensieve... I'm sorry. For what I did. To you." blurted the young witch.
"It's quite alright my dear." answered the wizard with a gentle look. "Quite a few things started making sense after I realized what you did."
"I'm sorry..." she whispered.
"Now, now." Professor McGonagall attempted to comfort her student, patting her hand, which only made her jump at the touch, to the lady's surprise.
"My dear..." said Dumbledore "Do you have any idea why this is happening to you?"
"No."
"Can you tell me how it feels, are you doing something?"
"I can go back and forth. It's... Like... Reading two books at the same time. I have been... Here for... Three days? But I've been waking up in the same night... Back home. I check every time." answered Margaret, fidgeting with her hands.
"Fascinating." Dumblebore rubbed his beard. "This rules out time-turners." he added with a chuckle.
"That shall be all for today... Albus?" interrupted Professor McGonagall, worried about her student's wellbeing.
The portrait was asleep, or at least pretending to be.
Margaret was staring at the ground, filled with remorse for something she had not yet done to the Headmaster.
"My dear?" inquired the lady.
"...I hate the Memory Charm..." she whispered.
The Headmistress opened her mouth;
"Good night, Professor."
"...Good night, dear."

Her mood having worsened even more, Margaret walked briskly towards her dormitories, still unfamiliar with the slightly different layout she took a lot longer than she expected and ended up in places she didn't want to, or even expected to; she wasn't quite lost but it was a long detour.
It was a relief that the discovery of her predicament didn't cause any issues yet but she was puzzled: Did her father do something? She did notice shadowy figures observing her from time to time, or was it another unexpected Ancient Magic turn of events? Maybe it was giving her another chance?
Feeling the pain in her temples, she realized she had yet to eat today and it was already dark out, reaching inside her bag for her sandwiches, she sat down on a stone bench, lamenting how utterly devoid of wood the castle had become.
Enjoying the snack in the quiet corridor, her mind wandered towards the actual meal she would cook once she would get to the kitchen, a necessary detour now that she had realized supper was overdue.
Her thoughts of gyoza were interrupted by loud voices nearby.
Peeking from a corner, wand in one hand, sandwich in the other, she noticed two groups of students facing each other: the snooty blonde witch, her two goons and an oddly familiar fellow were berating Lottie and her friends.
She couldn't make out much of their surprisingly loud whispers, nor did she care very much, until Ivy pointed her wand at the Slytherin witch.
Quickly flicking her wand, Margaret disarmed her and swiftly went back to her bench, grinning at the precise shot she achieved and picturing the confusion behind the corner.
The loud sound of two groups running away confirmed that the situation was resolved and she could enjoy her sandwich in the dark again.

Or so she thought.
"Well, if it isn't my saviour!" said the blonde witch in a mocking tone.
"Aye, she thinks she's Batman!" said Fischer, or Colby, one of the two, probably the other one.
"Who?" said Margaret and the familiar boy in unisson.
"Don't bore us with your Muggle heroes." snapped Cassandra.
Squinting at the boy, Margaret asked. "...Blackmoon..?"
Mouth agape, the boy froze for a second.
"Show some manners, or perhaps I should find a mask for you to hide your embarrassing face?"
Hiding his blushing face, the boy mumbled something; Cassandra harrumphed and left with her entourage, leaving Margaret with a puzzled look.

"Margaret! whispered a voice, loudly. She turned towards the sound: Lottie was waving at her; she approached the girl, sandwich in hand.
"It's past curfew! We should go back! Filch cannot catch us here!" whispered the painter.
"You...Don't...Say..." a sinister voice spoke behind them. Lottie squeaked; Ms Norris meowed.
"Hello little lady..." whispered Margaret, completely focused on Filch's cat, which surprisingly returned the affection, forcing a smile on the grumpy man's face. "Oh... Good evening Professor Finch."
"Professor Finch?" mouthed Lottie.

Escorted back to the Headmistress' office, Margaret rolled her eyes as her evening was effectively wasted.
"'Found a Ravenclaw and Gryffindor loitering about, Professor." said Mr Filch.
"Miss Turner, Miss Megamelons?" asked the Headmistress expectantly, looking above her glasses.
"I got lost. I was eating a sandwich. I just want to go to bed." answered Margaret; the Headmistress looked at the Ravenclaw.
"We were going back together." added the Gryffindor.
"I suppose it should be expected considering your circumstances..." observing the duo, an idea flashed in the Professor's mind. "Argus, would you mind having these two arounds while you tend to the paintings tomorrow? One evening in detention should be enough for such a minor incident."
"Ahh s'pose..." answered the Caretaker, observing Ms Norris having the time of her life under Margaret's caresses. Lottie, next to her was positively beaming at the prospect of having painting detention.