Day 14: Strange Occurrence

"18:58..."
Margaret placed her watch back in her pocket and looked around the room from her desk, making sure everything was in order for the dance; being her first hosted event, she had spent a lot of time and energy making sure everything would be perfect: six tables overflowing with a wide variety of dishes ranging from appetizers to deserts; house themed décor on a rotating pattern, clockwise from the Hogwarts crest changing every day, four guests for students without a dancing partner, singing toads, enchanted instruments and a lot of spellcasting and elbow grease to turn the club room in a welcoming dancehall.
Looking down at the roster on her desk, she took a bite off a marzipan pig and sighed: 50 potential attendees.
The thought of so many people dancing, chatting, eating, the music... She shivered at the thought.
Holding both her watch and her wand, she looked carefully at the smallest hand for the clock to hit exactly 19:00 to open the door.
She sighed one last time and waved her wand: the large doors opened and the enchanted instruments animated into a quiet ambient waltz, reminding her of the ballet lessons with her mother, how she had to dance with an animated doll because of her "static"; part of her hated it but she somehow missed it.

Setting the alarm for 10 minutes, Margaret sat behind her desk next to the door to take attendance, wishing for no-one to show up.
One minute...
Two minutes...
Eight minutes...
Slowly, a few students entered the room, a puzzled look on their face. "The sign says to write our name in the log to our Rig-AH!" the girl yelped at the sight of Margaret sat straight and staring at the table.
As if others were waiting to see if it was a trap, more and more students followed, including an overly affectionate couple which made Margaret wonder just how fast relationships grew these days.
"Aha! I finally made it!" said a voice "Me too!" said another one: a duo, no, a trio of floating uniforms gestured enthusiastically in front of her.
"Invisibility potion?" she thought; the group walked past her without signing in, she asked them to sign their names in a barely audible voice.
"My name? I'm me!"
"Yeah! you should know me, I'm me!"
"I can't believe you can't tell it's me!"
Rolling her eyes, she waved them away with her hand and clicked her tongue.
"19:09."

Holding her head and staring at her desk, Margaret waited for the dance to be over, she didn't expect to be offered a dance but not being asked was somehow unpleasant; losing herself in her thoughts she gritted her teeth, thinking about how awful she was for being annoyed she got what she wanted, wishing time would pass faster, thinking about the upcoming quiz she had to host right after the dance despite how tired she was from cooking and casting and lugging furniture around.
At least the feast was successful: the students seemed to appreciate the exotic dishes, the drinks not so much.
Sitting still and staring ahead emptily, she waited.
Students got on and off the stage in pairs, walked around, indulged in the food, pestered the toads, laughed, hugged.
She stared ahead.
They lined up for a group picture, she packed her things and left the room, waiting for them to follow her.

Wand and watch at the ready, Margaret stared at the large double doors while enunciating the incantation in her head repeatedly; she was taught the club room was very similar to the Room of Requirement though much easier to deal with: a simple spell would allow her to replicate the state of the room, which would prove helpful considering she was to host events every day.
Finally, the students emerged from the dancehall loudly, she grimaced at the noise, waited for the last student to get out of the way and waved her wand: once to close the doors, a second time to switch the room, a third time to open the room.
She entered wordlessly and set her alarm for 10 minutes again.

Feeling the exhaustion catching up, Margaret rested her head in her arms on her desk, her thoughts and dreams blurring in a half-sleeping daze. At least nobody sat next to her.
Unsure whether it was real or not, the girl was overcome by an intense feeling of impending doom, as if her heart was pierced, as if a freezing blanket covered her, held her.
Jolted awake, she looked around for the source of her distress: nothing, only students gossiping loudly, probably unaware that she was even in the room with them.
"That must have been a ghost..." she thought "But they avoid me..."
Rubbing her eyes, she stood up from the desk quietly and left the room: she did her part and sleeping felt a lot more important than "club crests".

Alone in her room, Margaret took off her clothes and changed into her sleeping robes, wondering how long it would take her to fall asleep despite her exhaustion.
Not long at all.
Everything was pitch black.
She felt herself floating, sitting in the air cross-legged, in a familiar beach town, in Belgium.
She flew around at high speed, steering with her knees.
The dread and the cold returned, she opened her eyes, a sudden weight on her chest.
"A lucid dream?!" she thought, excited "No, calm down, you'll wake yourself up."
Attempting to move, she felt the weight shift, a tickling against her face and a hard push. A fluffy hard push.
"Oh! Ma petite fifille..." she thought, smiling uncontrollably as her matagot pushed her head against hers.
Feeling her caresses, Margot purred loudly, her claws kneading in her dear friend's clavicles.
"Ow." Margaret giggled, grabbing the creature's pawpads with her thumbs and repeatedly kissing the cat's forehead.
Cuddling for a while, she lost track of time and strained her cheeks from smiling.

Satisfied, the matagot jumped off the bed and into Margaret's chair.
Stretching with a satisfied sigh, the girl checked her watch: all was well.
Her morning routine done, her cat's murder cleaned up, she left the common room with a spring in her step; she felt alive, as if she had woken up from a long nightmare.
"Oh my! Miss M...Margaret! You're up early!" said Professor Fig, coming down from the faculty tower. "Well, since you're up, you have the day to yourself today, I hope you enjoy yourself, hm?" he winked and smiled.
"Thank you professor, have a nice day."
"A whole day." she thought, her mind picturing all kinds of things she could do with her free time; fidgeting in her pockets, she felt her key: she knew what she wanted to do.

Satisfied with her morning workout, she walked back to her room and laid down in bed, grasping her key; she stood up suddenly, placed her key on her bed and changed into a pretty black dress with a frilly white shirt and laid back down, focusing on the portkey in her palm: she pictured her home, inhaled, felt herself spinning, exhaled and a loud crack filled the now empty dormitory.

The musical chime of enchanted bells softly announced her arrival in the Landing Room; standing up, Margaret scanned the room: she clicked her tongue at the sight of bloody rags, hoping her father didn't mess up too bad.
Designed by her mother, the Landing Room was a place where portkeys and apparitions were redirected to, it contained emergency supplies, first aid and plumbing fixtures; the apparition zone was clearly marked on the ground and was to be cleared as fast as possible. Unlike the rest of the house, it was a pale beige room without windows, its only exit only unlocked with a key like Margaret was carrying.
Moving the "bathroom" blinds aside, she checked herself in the mirror just in case and left the room.

Margaret's home was empty and quiet, assuming she was alone since she wasn't welcomed, she walked to the living room and slumped down in the leather couch with a sigh; glancing to her right, she noticed one of her cats sleeping in her father's chair and smiled.
"I can't hear the finches." she thought, frowning.
Standing up, she checked the conservatory: the birds were nowhere to be found.
"Maybe the greenhouse?"
Passing through the kitchen, she heard a soft rustling. "Which one of you rascals is there?" said Margaret dramatically, stepping exaggeratedly like a cartoon villain towards the source of the noise.
Pressing down, she carefully approached the pantry and looked underneath: a fluffy yellow niffler was holding a spoon and... Struggling?
Gasping at the adorable and surprising sight, Margaret felt around her pockets for something shiny, she held a galleon between her fingers and wiggled it in front of the creature.
Looking around and sniffing weakly, the creature struggled to locate what its instinct was telling it to get ahold of.

"Oh! Kitten! When did you get home?" a warm voice exclaimed behind her.
"Mother! Quick, there's a cute niffler under the pantry!" Margaret answered, still on all fours, staring at the suspect and wiggling the coin.
Focusing at the cabinet, the caramel haired lady lifted it slightly, enough for her daughter to gently grab the creature.
"Maggie, that's not a niffler, that's a duckling." said Elise, smiling widely.
"I think it's dull, it's struggling to... Niffle? Can that happen?"
"Oh I've heard about that, they rarely venture out and instead guard the hoard." answered her mother.
Looking up from the creature, she stared at her daughter, reading her like an open book.
"Yes we can keep it... Her. You gave her a name already, I assume?"
"...Snoop. She was snooping around."

Comfortable and satisfied in a pile of duplicated galleons, Snoop napped peacefully under the warm gaze of the Megamelons girls.
"Is father well? There was blood in the Landing Room." asked Margaret.
Elise sighed.
"It's not his."
"Oh."
They shared a weak smile, and worried thoughts about Leonard's dangerous occupation.
"Let's have some tea, shall we?" declared the mother with a warm smile, showing the way with her hand.
Margaret nodded and lead the way, only to jump when her mother patted her bottom with smirk and a giggle.
"My baby girl."

Sitting in the couch again, this time with her mother staring and smiling at her and sipping a warm cup of rooibos tea, Margaret enjoyed being home, her odd adventures made her feel like it had been an eternity since she was last home.
"So? How is school? Why are you here on a Thursday?" asked her mother, before presenting a box of tea biscuits and chocolates.
"I... Don't know." she grabbed a piece of praline white chocolate. "Our carriage was attacked by a Hebridean Black, it killed George, I found out I can use Ancient Magic, I found a lost toad and a swan, I spent the night in a thestral's nest and cast Endoloris on a boy."
Her mother hugged her tight. Margaret jumped and stood still.
"How can you tell me all this with a straight face!" her voice quavered and she sniffled.
"I'm fine." said the girl, uncomfortable.
"Oh Margaret..." the woman stood up and blew her nose "Kitten... Why did you cast that spell..?"
"Ah. We were trapped in some kind of... Dark magic crypt. It was the only way out and... I wanted him to know what the Dark Arts really are... Because... He's getting too... cocky. He wants to cure his sister's curse but he's... Brash. Bold. Kind of dumb."
Elise smiled.
"Why did I even doubt you?" she hugged her daughter again.
"And Ancient Magic? What's that?"
"No idea. I see glowing magic other people can't."
Elise giggled.
"See? You were jealous of my telekinesis but you have something of your own."
Margaret felt her mother's "mind hands" pulling her cheeks, patting her head and massaging her shoulders as the woman approached her and kissed her forehead.
Seeing her daughter grimacing, she giggled "Not even your static could stop me!"

Chatting for a while over tea, Elise told Margaret about her father, the pets and the shop while she gathered the cups and pot and moved them to the sink.
"Oh, we have enchanted dish washing?" wondered Margaret out loud at the sight of enthusiastic utensils.
"Yes! I finally did it!" exclaimed her mother from the living room, hurriedly joining her.
"Nice."
"Are...You staying the day? The night?" asked Elise.
"I'll miss Margot but... Yes. I missed home."
"We all missed you." her mother hugged her again.
"Where are the finches?" asked Margaret, limp in her mother's embrace.
"Oh! Your father built an aviary in the Greenhouse!"
"Oh. I liked hearing them sing..."
"Give him an earful tonight, kitten." she winked, glanced at the clock and moaned. "I have to get back to the shop..."
"I can-"
"You can stay home and study young lady, the shop is off limit for the likes of you!" she cut Margaret with a playful scolding.
"Have a nice day."
"You too, kitten."
The girl watched her mother leave for the Landing Room, her beautiful green robe flowing with her graceful stride as one of their kneazles nuzzled against her own leg.

Having fed Hubert, the grey kneazle, Margaret climbed the stairs holding a bottle of spring water; she entered her room, clicked her tongue at the disturbed but cleaned room and placed the bottle and her bag on the desk. "Thanks..." she thought, grateful.
Looking out of the window, she observed the large garden, the fields, the greenhouse, the woods and the beautiful clear sky. "I'm home."
She felt a tingling in her eyes.
Stretching with a satisfied sigh, she undressed, placed her clothes in the laundry basket and entered the bathroom.
Full of natural light, the white room had large windows with white blinds and a glass ceiling, wooden furniture and bronze plumbing; the sun was illuminating the room beautifully and promised her a very enjoyable shower.
Staring at her nude body in the mirror, she smiled at the scars Margot left her, flexed her muscles and inspected herself, feeling as if it had been an eternity since she had been her; she felt strong, fast, tall. Not once did she look at her face before stepping into the shower.

Margaret left the bathroom wearing sleeping robes feeling refreshed and happy, she sat down in her bed with her book and wand, clicked her tongue when she realized her bottle was still on the desk and smiled at the thought of not needing to stand up to grab it.
She would have to fight with all her might to not nap in this overwhelmingly comfortable atmosphere.