Day 4: Inspection

Eyes still closed but by now wide awake, Margaret sighed deeply. She felt a surprisingly gentle breeze caress her cheeks, and soft sunlight slowly warmed the almost empty room.
She sighed again, and again, in vain; as if no air could fill her lungs.
Finally opening her eyes, she glared at the note stuck to the bed's canopy and stretched. The girl looked around the dormitory and realized she was alone: her augurey must have went for its morning flight, and her last remaining roommate, she barely ever saw.
A splash and a drink of water, a handful of fruits, more stretches, hair combed and teeth brushed, she grabbed her bag and walked towards the beach.

Rather than jump into the water, she sat down on the pier and stared at her hands, fidgeting. Her head was full of thoughts, none of them useful or even meaningful; she bit her lip, drew blood and sucked hungrily, all the while pinching her fingers harder and harder.
The lake was in front of her, but she didn't want to swim, she couldn't bring herself to move. The idea that her current form was reaching its limit crossed her mind but didn't stick.
Every breath she took felt like choking. She was drowning on dry land, and couldn't do anything except bite harder, suck out more blood and pinch harder.

The hands on Margaret's pocketwatch slowly moved. One minute. Two minutes. Ten minutes.
She didn't care.
Fifteen minutes.
She didn't care.
"Margaret?" asked an unfamiliar voice behind her.
She didn't care.
"Are you ignoring me? Aren't you supposed to be in class right now?" scolded the man.
She didn't care.
He grabbed the girl's shoulder, who jumped at the touch but kept staring emptily.
"A-are you alright?" he asked, kneeling down to look at her face.
Her green eyes shifted between her hands and the lake, and her jaw moved strangely, a bit of blood dripping from her lips.
"I have to get her to the Headmistress... This isn't just a regular case of skipping class..." thought Professor Longbottom.
"Come on, give me your hand." he asked gently.
She didn't react.
"Margaret, please." he pleaded, increasingly worried.
"Don't." she whispered.
"What did you say?"
"Leave me alone." he could barely hear her.
The man felt powerless, he couldn't help but fear she had been attacked by a dementor; remembering his student days, he offered the child a piece of chocolate wordlessly.
She sighed and didn't take it.
"There's no escaping what's coming, is there?" she asked, turning around to face the worried man, her gaze never stopping on him.
"You're not in trouble." he said gently.
"That's the problem." she thought.

Quietly following Professor Longbottom, Margaret walked like a prisoner on death row, fully expecting what was going to happen. The concerned man kept turning around to shoot a concerned glance at her, expecting her to run away.
The pair made its way towards the Headmistress' office slowly, their steps echoing through the empty hallways, until the two of them stopped in front of a familiar gargoyle.
"Can you wait for me here?" he asked, smiling gently.
She sat down without a word.
"Th-thank... you." he mumbled as he went up the stairs.
Rather than a gentle knock, a panicked thump rang through the office; Minerva McGonagall hurriedly dropped her piece of parchment to open the door.
"Professor Longbottom?!" she asked.
"Headmistress... It's Megamelons, there's something very wrong with her." she could read the severity of the claim on his face.
"I found her at the lake, skipping class, but it's like she wasn't skipping class, like she had... Given up. She didn't react to me, even asking me to leave her."
"Bring her here." she nodded, the man ran back downstairs, then back up with the child.
"Why didn't you bring her with you in the first place?" she hissed, whispering.

The Headmistress quietly approached the girl who still stood at the door, staring at the floor.
"How are you my dear?" she asked quietly, taking Margaret's hand and gently leading her towards a couch deeper in the office.
"Miserable." she smiled weakly.
"Should I fetch Madam Pomfrey?" mouthed Professor Longbottom, the lady shook her head and gestured him to leave. He obliged, still visibly worried.
Taking a seat next to the girl, the kind lady poured two cups of fragrant and fruity tea, and offered a plate of lemon candies.
She didn't react.
"That's a no, then?" she asked; the girl nodded.

Minerva McGonagall quietly sipped on her tea to the sound of the previous Headmasters' snoring, and the tower's mechanical clicking; her piercing gaze observed the child next to her.
Margaret was like a statue, her chest barely moved as she breathed softly, her gaze fixated on her hands, only her mouth moved as she kept sucking on her self-inflicted wound.
"Are you unhappy, Margaret?" asked the lady out of the blue.
"Don't say my name." she thought, "I don't know." she whispered, as the woman squinted, trying to read anything on her face.
"Why weren't you in class?"
The girl sighed.
"I couldn't move."
"But you did, you are here, now." remarked the Headmistress.
"Not like that."
"Tell me, then."
"I don't know."
The experienced witch rubbed her temples in frustration.
"I'm sorry." whispered the girl.
"You're not in trouble." insisted the woman, smiling warmly.
Margaret's stomach rumbled.
"Are you hungry?"
"No."
"But your body told me you are."
"I can't eat."
"Are you sure?" the Headmistress placed a bowl of grapes on the table.
The girl sighed, plucked a single fruit and painfully swallowed.
"A happy stomach is the first step." remarked Albus Dumbledore's portrait.
She wasn't happy.

"Can I go?" whispered Margaret.
"No, you can't."
She sighed.
"Something is clearly bothering you. I have no reason to keep you but I cannot and will not not help you." insisted the Headmistress. "Is there something you miss from... Your time?"
The child stayed silent for a long while before answering. "My... Matagot."
"Have you made any friends?"
She shook her head.
"Are you bored in class?"
She shook her head.
The woman placed her bony hands on the girl's forehead, making her jump, she then felt her cheeks. "You're colder than I am, and pale. Are you sick?"
"I don't think so. Maybe?"
"Arms, please."
Margaret stretched out her arms towards the woman.
"I meant bare."
She rolled up her sleeves and presented her arms again.
A slender finger ran down her veins gently under the Headmistress' piercing gaze, as she checked for scars; she sighed with relief upon finding none.
"Madam Pomfrey will be happy if she ever has to treat you." she remarked, as she traced along the blue veins along the girl's arms. "Pardon my asking... But... Are you... Human?"
"It would be easier if I wasn't, wouldn't it?" thought Margaret, as she nodded.
"You have such perfect skin I thought you might not be." she explained, still sour she had to ask. "I suppose you're healthy, and would assume you do not wish to be examined by Madam Pomfrey."
"Or by you." replied the girl, bluntly.
"You're not talking to me, dear." smiled the woman.

"Perhaps it is not something she has but something she doesn't." suddenly said Dumbledore's portrait.
"Albus?" asked the Headmistress.
"Margaret."
"Don't say my name." she thought.
"Have you been feeling... Perhaps... Hollow? Aimless?"
She nodded.
"And do you feel powerless against it?"
She nodded.
"It's... Like" she paused for a while.
"I fell from... A ship." she paused again.
"In the middle of the ocean... And no one noticed. And I'm sinking. Slowly. But it feels like sand, not water."
The old witch opened her mouth, and closed it as the girl spoke again.
"And anytime I breathe, I choke, anytime I eat, I feel hungrier..."
McGonagall's hand reached for her shoulder, trembling, in an attempt to comfort her.
"I'm sorry." she blurted out "For making you and Professor Longbottom worry."
"You have nothing to apologize for, my dear." she was taken aback when the girl moved out of the way of her hand as she tried to hold her.
"I shouldn't even be here in the first place..." whispered Margaret.
"But you are here, my child, and I can assure you it's not a punishment. Not for you, not for us." smiled the Headmistress.
"I know..." she whispered, staring at the floor. "But it doesn't matter." she thought.

"Minerva..." said Dumbledore's portrait. "Perhaps...What she needs is purpose? Or even... The ability to read her own heart."
"Don't tell me you're about to bring up this accursed mirror..." grumbled the Headmistress in her head.
"Something the Mirror of Erised should be able to provide her." he added, much to the lady's displeasure.
"Out of the question." she hissed, before approaching the portrait and whispering. "She's troubled enough as is."
"For once, I am enclined... To agree." declared Dumbledore's neighbour, a pale, black haired man. "It is in this very room, after all."
The Headmistress' glance alternated between the statue sitting in the couch, the two portraits and the draped mirror.
"Is this a tradition?" asked the girl, much to the surprise of the three Headmasters.
"I... Think..." she paused "It might help."
"Are you sure?" asked Headmistress, clearly worried and trying to dissuade her.
"It can't make me feel worse than I already do." she smiled.
McGonagall wasn't happy, quite the opposite, but her student was clearly showing signs of opening up, a stark contrast compared to earlier.
"Very well." she hissed.

Waving her impressive wand, the Headmistress removed the large drape from the ornate mirror in the corner of her office and beckoned the troubled student closer.
Unimpressed, Margaret walked in front of it and stared ahead, pleasantly surprised that she didn't have to avoid looking at herself: she wasn't reflected at all.
"You do not have to answer, child, but what do you see? What does your heart show you?" asked Dumbledore's portrait.
"Nothing." she quickly answered.
"Nothing?" asked McGonagall. "Do you see nothing, or don't you see anything?"
"I see everything behind me, but not myself."
"...Are you a vampire..?" asked Dumbledore.
"Of course not." she rolled her eyes.
"Does it mean..?" whispered Snape's portrait, he was interrupted by a gesture from the Headmistress; all three of them having come to the same conclusion.
"This mirror, how does it work exactly?" asked Margaret.
None of the teachers could bring themselves to explain it, fearing what twisted conclusion the troubled child could come to if she knew.
"I show not your face but your heart's desire." she read out loud. "I suppose it makes sense... What I want most... Is to not be" she thought.
"This doesn't help." she thought, as she walked back to the couch, under the Headmasters' concerned gaze.
"I suppose it doesn't work because I'm not supposed to be here." she smiled at the Headmistress.
She hated lies, but she hated being a burden and worrying others even more.

"Can I go now?" she asked. "I feel better."
"A-are you sure?" asked the Headmistress.
"Yes." she sighed, the lady didn't believe her.
McGonagall suddenly approached and grabbed her hands.
"Margaret. I insist. Please do not let yourself be devoured. You are loved, you are cherished, and Hogwarts was, is and will be your home, and we, your family. Do not shut your heart closed."
"I will, professor. I just... Prefer being... Alone. For this. I can... Deal with it. Most of the time. It's not that bad."
The Headmistress looked at her over her glasses.
"Would you feel... Happier, if Miss Grey was transfered to your dormitories?"
"I don't know."
"You do know."
"I wouldn't be happier."
"But would you dislike it?" asked Dumbledore.
"No."
"Someone told me you are aware of her... Condition."
"Who did?" asked Margaret.
"Her."
"Oh."
"Professor Snape will surely agree with me, that a strong bond can help you endure through the darkest of times."
The gloomy man's painting almost looked like it blushed.
"Don't tease him." smiled Dumbledore.
"Miss Grey has, in fact, been looking for dormmates, and I hear your room isn't full."
"You can get to the point, I don't need the all this." interrupted Margaret.
Snape's portrait bursted out laughing.
"I didn't mean it in a rude way, I'm sorry." hurriedly added Margaret, after seeing the three Headmasters' reaction. "I just meant... That I don't need convincing or anything... Or..."
"I admit I was taken by surprise." smiled McGonagall. "Make sure she fells at home, this is us, and her, reaching out to you."
"I will." replied the girl. "Try..." she added.