Day 5: Dog Day

Her mouth full of the taste of blood, Margaret eagerly sucked on her self inflicted wound as she descended from the Headmistress' office.
"How embarrassing, I shouldn't have let myself get caught..." she thought, as she glanced at her reddened fingertips.
She remembered the look on her teachers' faces, that disgusting mix of concern and pity. It made her sick, it reminded her of the muggles, of the nuns.
Sucking harder on her lip, she stepped out of the enchanted staircase, and briskly walked towards her dormitories— only to be interrupted by a familiar voice and the sound of a pair of footsteps.
"Ah! Miss M... Margaret!" said Professor Longbottom.
She turned around without a word.
"I didn't expect you to be out so fast, I only just fetched Miss Grey." he added, scratching the back of his head with one hand, and pointing at the familiar girl with the other.
Neither of the girls reacted.
"I hope you're feeling better..." he half mumbled.
She nodded, Abigail looked at the both of them slightly concerned.
"Can you... Show Miss Grey to her new room? We'll have her things delivered soon." he winked at the grimacing white haired girl.
"Ssssssssssure." her voice trailed as she stole a glance at the familiar girl, who was staring at her.
"Wonderful, I'll leave you to it, then." he clapped joyfully before entering the Headmistress' office, no longer hiding his worry as soon as he was out of sight.
"Why did Professor Longbottom call you by your first name?" mumbled Abigail.
"My last name embarrasses him." replied Margaret confidently. "At least I think it does..."
"Why? What is it."
"Megamelons."
Abigail bursted out laughing, loudly, her hilarity echoing through the empty corridors.
"I can totally picture him blushing while taking attendance!" she wiped her tears on the ragged sleeve of her robes.
"I don't know, I didn't look at him when he did." answered Margaret bluntly. "Shall we?" she asked, as she gestured towards their destination; Abigail nodded.

"You know, it's the first time I've talked to you." said the red haired girl, beaming.
"You seem a lot more comfortable than back then."
"I am!"
"It must be from watching me so much." shrugged Margaret, matter-of-factly.
Abigail suddenly stopped in her tracks, blushing profusely as she hid her face with her scarf.
"I really don't care, let's keep going." said the tall girl.
"Y-you saw that..?"
"Mhm"
As if suddenly hit by Silencio, Abigail kept following her classmate in complete silence, though were she a wolf her tail would have been wagging all the way to the common room.

"After you." said Margaret as she gently pushed the door to her room open; her classmate stepped inside, eyes wide open in amazement.
It was a fairly standard Gryffindor dorm room, but it felt much cleaner, more pure, better illuminated and fresher than her old one, three of the beds were furnished, but only two of them looked lived in.
"Did your roommate... Leave?" she asked, as she pointed at the more desolate corner of the room: furnished with the standard Gryffindor bedsheets, it looked like the person who occupied the bed was expecting to leave at any time, the only way to tell someone used it was because it had furnishing in the first place: no supplies, no decorations, only a single trunk on top of the bed and a sheet of paper stuck to the top of the ceiling.
She looked around in confusion after a short moment of silence, only to realize her classmate wasn't next to her but instead helping an irate House Elf furnish the formerly empty corner of the room.
"This will be your bed. I take care of the plants so you don't have to worry about them."
"Oh, so they don't come with the good rooms?" asked Abigail, slightly embarrassed.
"I assume you won't be using the bed tonight, please don't make too much noise when you come in." added Margaret; her companion's smile faded from her face.
She nodded quietly.
"Good luck, then." she jumped out of the window.
"HUH?!" screamed Abigail, terrified, only to see a black and white shape blast off on a broom.
"I have to do something about the smell..." thought Margaret as she finally enjoyed fresh, untained air filling her lungs

An oversized book resting on her chest, Margaret stared at the ceiling, the wretched note taunting her, as her thought drifted around, dragging her between melancholy, disgust and loneliness.
The full moon bathed the room with its soft light, it was bright enough to see, but dark enough for her roommates to sleep soundly.
She sighed and rubbed her eyes, sucking gently on her lip, no blood came out, only sharp pain.
"Good enough." she thought.
Right as she was about to close her eyes, a quiet tapping slowly crept closer to the door, she deftly switched to a crouching position, holding her sword and wand as she stared through the curtains.
Nothing.
She waited for what felt like an eternity before the door slowly opened with a quiet squeak, a scarfless Abigail shambled inside, looking lost, trembling, face red from having cried. The girl stumbled to the left and reached for the curtains only to feel an intense chill crawl up her spine with deadly intent, she fell down on her butt and hid her face in her arms, too exhausted, both mentally and physically to put up any resistance.
Margaret stared in silence until the werewolf stopped moving, and the birds started singing.
Quietly, she stepped out of her bed, and with a flick of her wand lifted the now asleep child into her bed.
"Ugh, the smell is even worse..." she gagged silently, covering her nose with her shirt, as she closed the curtains.
"I ended up not getting any sleep..." she sighed as she looked out of the adjacent window "Should I..?" she wondered, as she slowly walked to her bed "Surely..." she slid between her sheets "I won't oversleep..."

"M-Margot..." mumbled the girl in a daze as she woke up to a throbbing headache.
"...Nevermind..." she mumbled when she realized when she was. "This feels disgusting... How long did I sleep..?"
She slowly and painfully opened the curtains only to face Abigail, who was sitting at the table in the middle of the room, staring at her; the half asleep girl looked away hurriedly and mumbled: "Lemmegetdressed..."
"Thanks for yesterday." said the werewolf.
"I mean... For welcoming me and everything... And for putting me in bed... S-sorry you had to... At least I think it was you..?"
"Pardon?" asked Margaret, only her head popping out of the bed's curtains.
"N-nothing!" replied Abigail, a beaming smile on her face "Phew, she didn't hear that..." she thought.
"Don't take this the wrong way..." said the white haired girl "But you reek. It's not your fault, you probably don't know how to get rid of it. Follow me."
"W-what?!" stammered the young werewolf as she followed her classmate, blushing.
Still not used to how fast her new friend walked, Abigail followed her downstairs, wondering how she knew the place so well already, until they stopped in front of a mysterious room at the bottom of the common room.
"There. Bathroom." Margaret reached into her bag a produced a strange looking bar of soap "This should do the trick, get behind the partition and I'll take care of your clothes."
"I don't smell anything though..." she slowly grabbed the lavender scented soap. "This is nice..." she whispered as she huffed it.
"Does she know how dog-like she looks..?" wondered her classmate.
"Okay, I'll do it."
"Why are you saying it like that? Don't you bathe daily?"
"I haven't yet, that's why I'll do it!" she grinned.
"Good." Margaret pointed towards an isolated bathtub with a partition. "Clothes." Abigail nodded and complied.
"Where's your scarf?"
No answer.
"I... Lost it... In the woods... Yesterday..." she mumbled, her voice sounded emotional.
"We'll look for it after your bath. No class today. Be right back, I'll help with your hair."
"REALLY?!" exclaimed the red haired girl, surprisingly loudly.
"Ow... Yes. Please don't be so loud, I'm behind the partition."
"Ah... Sorry..."
"Don't be sorry, be clean, I don't hear the water moving."
"YES MA'M!"
Margaret chuckled.
Carefully, she waved her wand, mending and refreshing the ragged clothes, all the while Abigail scrubed, only pausing to sniff the oddly familiar fragrance coming from the soap.
"This smells familiar... Do you bathe with it here?"
"No, I have my own... Place. Near the lake. Sometimes sleep there."
"Really? McGonagall lets you?"
"I don't think she knows, doesn't really matter. I was raised there for a bit, I'm told."
"You were raised at Hogwarts?!"
"For a bit." she paused for a while "And conceived."
"HUH?!"
"Hide your privates, I'm done with your clothes, I'll help with your hair now."
"O-oh, sure... I'll just..." she splashed around loudly, forming a thick layer of bubbles in front of her. "All good!"
"Relax." said the monotone voice behind her, a hand straightened her back and another pushed her head forward.
Gently, Margaret combed, brushed, and waved her wand, slowly untangling the girl's messy red hair.
"Take a deep breath." she whispered, waited for the girl, then pushed her head under the water, she waved her wand, then pulled her out.
"Sorry. Hope that didn't scare you."
Red to her ears, Abigail was at a loss for words. "So gentle..." she thought.
"Applying... Soap, or something... Don't be scared." whispered the white haired girl, before gently massaging her classmate's scalp, frowning.
Were she a cat instead of a dog, she'd be purring.
"Alright, deep breath again." she waited, pushed, swished, pulled.
"Almost done." slowly, she brushed, not once hitting a knot with either brush or comb; she sniffed her tools to confirm a job well done and stood up.
"There we go."
"T-thanks..." mumbled the beet red Abigail; she slowly turned around, expecting to see the emotionless face behind the monotone whispering only to find herself alone, the sound of water from a nearby sink filling the room.
"I'll wait for you outside."
She was almost disappointed.
"Check yourself in the mirror and tell me if something is wrong." said Margaret as she left the room.

Eyes wide in surprise, Abigail excitedly put on her clothes: they felt freshly ironed, smelled of lavender, just like her hair and looked brand new, she excitedly but anxiously looked at her reflection in the mirror, a wide smile uncontrollably spreading across her face.
"Is this really me?!"
Though she still looked famished, with large black circles around her eyes, her hair looked full and shiny, like a lion's mane from a muggle story book, and her clothes— and shoes, looked brand new and fitted to her frame while still being loose and comfortable, just how she liked them.
She hurried out of the bathroom, almost breaking into a sprint to meet her classmate.
"Margaret! How did you do this?!" she barked loudly even before opening the door.
"Don't run in a bathroom." answered the girl, leaning against the opposing wall, looking straight at the door.
"HOW DID YOU DO THIS?"
"M-magic..?"
Abigail bursted out laughing, loudly.
"Ow..."
"Are you a stylist or do your parents work at a salon, or..." she asked excitedly.
"N-no." the white haired girl sounded slightly embarrassed.
"Do you... Do this often..?"
"N-no..."
"But how?!"
"M-my... Cat."
"YOUR CAT?!"
"Ow."
"Sorry."
"It's fine." she grimaced "Yes, my cat. She's... This big." she gestured, her classmate's eyes widened in surprise. "Well, not a cat, a matagot. She often comes back home full of sap or goop or slugs..."
"Rrrrreaally..?"
"And my mother can't really do charms, and because my father isn't home often I've had to do it. Uh... For clothes. And fabrics."
"Are you, like, a genius?"
"I don't think so. Magic makes sense."
"Is that Grey?!" interrupted a girl from the other side of the corridor, baffled.
"Let's go." said Margaret, serious.
Grabbing her classmate's robes, the werewolf struggled to follow along as they walked (too) fast through the common room, dodging students and furniture.

Back into their dormitories, the white haired girl sat down and rubbed her temples. "One moment..." she whispered.
"Are you okay..?"
"Just one moment, sorry." she exhaled deeply.
Abigail stared, concerned.
"I'm fine, sorry." finally said Margaret after a few minutes. "Let's get your scarf." she said as she opened the window.
"Oh no, no, no, no, no!" she shook her head, visibly panicked.
"What's wrong?"
"We haven't even had our first flying class!"
"You don't trust me?"
"I don't trust ME!"
Unaware of the rustling in what she thought was an unoccupied but closed bed, Abigail slowly approached the window with trembling legs.
The room suddenly darkened, a bright orange glow coming from behind the curtains.
Abigail turned around, primed to pounce.
"Hhhhhhhhh..."
"Haaaaaaah..."
The strange voice came from the light.
"H A L L O W E E N!" the curtains flew open with a burst of orange smoke and light as a pumpkin headed girl in a fancy dress floated out.
"HALLOWEEN!" she repeated, over and over. "HALLOWEEN!"
She flew out of the room, repeating the words louder and louder as she floated through the common room, making a huge commotion.
"WHAT WAS THAT?!" the girl shook like a leaf.
"Mercy, she's alright." answered Margaret, looking positively bored. "I guess we can walk, she most likely cleared out the common room by now."

The duo slowly walked through the castle in silence, Margaret took her classmate through twists and turns she didn't know existed to reach the courtyard unhindered and unbothered.
"How do you know the castle so well?"
"Been here a while. And I like to explore."
"A while..?" thought the confused werewolf.
"So where did you lose it?"
"Lose what?"
"Your scarf."
"O-oh...I don't really remember... The potion was... Kind of defective..." she kicked her foot bashfully 'I KNOW I didn't do anything wrong, I was in control, I just don't remember!" she added, hurriedly. "I swear I wouldn't!"
"Mhm."
They walked through the courtyard side by side, Abigail craved something more, she felt frustrated by how cold her new friend was. "Why isn't she smiling, or hugging me, or holding my hand?" she thought, thinking about all of her classmates who did do it.
"Does she really not think of me as her friend..?" she stole a glance.
Almost as pale as a ghost, Margaret piercing green eyes darted around fast, her white silken hair flowed gently with the wind without ever obscuring her eyes.
"What's wrong?" she asked without looking at her.
"N-nothing..."
"Ask, I don't bite. Unlike you." her deadpan joke almost didn't register.
"Are you... Okay?"
"What does that mean?"
"N-nothing, I just..."
"No, I mean, what does okay mean."
"O-oh it's... Huh? You don't know?"
"There are a lot of things I don't know."
"You don't look like it."
"How does one... Look like it?" she stopped in her tracks, looking puzzled.
"I'm just saying, I don't mean, like, looking..." Abigail scratched her hair.
"You'll get it tangled again." she pointed at her head, before producing a brush.
"I DON'T GET IT! Would she do this if she didn't care?!" thought Abigail as she let herself be brushed.
"I'm not really... From here." said Margaret. " There's a lot I don't know. I barely understand anyone."
"Are you not from the yookay?"
"What is that?"
"The United Kingdom, here."
"That's... Not what I mean. But also, no, I'm from Belgium."
"You are?! That's so... Awesome?"
"You don't sound as impressed as you seem to want to be."
"I am! I just... Don't know much about it."
"It's like here. Except we speak French. Or Walloon. Or Flemish. Or German...."
"You speak French?" she asked, surprised. "I don't even know the other two..."
"Bien évidemment, c'est ma langue maternelle." she answered bluntly. (Of course, It's my first language.)
"Woah that sounds so weird..! How did you do that? Where's your accent?"
"My parents studied at Hogwarts, my mother is from... here." she gestured vaguely. "So I inherited her accent even though we speak French at home."
"Your parents sound amazing!"
"I haven't told you anything about them, though. What about yours?"
She didn't answer.
"I see."
"What's Hello weens, by the way?"
"YOU DON'T KNOW HALLOWEEN?!"
"That perked her up right back..." thought Margaret.
"It's the spooky season! Pumpkins, skeletons, witches..."
"That... Doesn't really sound... Seasonal."
"It's more of a Muggle thing."
"I see."
"W-well, maybe it's more for witches and wizards but I don't really know... I'm half blood."
"Pureblood." she reached out her hand.
"...Really? With that name..?"
"Only a half blood would utter such ignorant balderdash." she answered spitefully, frowning at her.
Taken by surprise, Abigail stammered. "I-I didn't mean..!" visibly panicked, she looked around, as if looking for an escape.
"I was joking. We like being secretive."
"Y-you..!" the werewolf held back from punching her arm.
"Isn't that your scarf?" Margaret pointed at the Whomping Willow, standing proudly in front of the Forbidden Forest.
"It is!" she exclaimed, half happy, half worried. "How are we getting it back..?"
"Have you tried asking?"
"Is this another one of your jokes? I don't want to get whomped!"
"No..?" the white haired girl stared quizzically.
"Do you... Not know what a whomping willow is? Or does?"
"It's a willow, that whomps."
"Exactly."
"So?"
"So?!"
"It's a tree."

Without a care in the world, the girl approached the menacing tree. Abigail looked around in a panic, hoping to find a professor or an older student, only to be surprised by the sight of her classmate sitting peacefully against the tree.
"H-how..?" she stared, mouth wide open.
Margaret rested her cheek gently against the massive trunk and gently caressed it, whispering, and waving her wand with her other hand. The tree bent over sligthly, and rather than lashing her body with its whip like branches, it softly brushed against her, allowing her to take the scarf unharmed.
She stood up, gently embraced the trunk and walked away, looking as unimpressed as ever.
"HOW?!"
"Ow."
"Sorry." she giggled at the familiarity of the situation.
"How did you do it?"
"How do you usually do it?"
"How..?"
"It's obvious there's a passage under it, and what better place to hide a werewolf, you don't need to be a niffler to sniff that one out." she shrugged.
"...Fair enough. I guess it's not such a big secret." she giggled "Hmm... Let me think... I don't... Care?"
"Exactly."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't care."
"That's crazy!"
"It's a TREE." she held out her hand.
Abigail took a deep breath, trying to focus on the excitement of being offered a hand over the fear of getting whomped.
"Plants want two things, peace, and love." she whispered as she slowly walked towards the tree, grasping her classmate's wrist instead of her hand (much to her disappointment)
"Like hippies?"
"I don'tk now what those are. Walk carefully, slowly, and don't feel any strong emotion."
The two of them crept closer and closer towards the tree's massive trunk.
"Once you get close enough to touch it... Don't, and wait for it to ask for it."
"How do you tell?" she whispered.
"You'll know. Close your eyes." Margaret's monotone voice went from low to a whisper. "Can you feel it? The quiet, the peace, the wind?"
Eyes closed, she felt her wrist being moved, she jerked her hand back as she felt the bark against her fingers.
"Shh... It's fine." whispered her classmate. "You're allowed to."
Her muscles relaxed and she slowly traced along the wood's grain.
"It's a bit gross, I'll admit." said Margaret bluntly, at a normal volume.
Abigail giggled and opened her eyes.
"See? It's a good tree." a rare smile appeared on the girl "All of them are, really..." she added, as she caressed a root.
"Isn't this great? We're having an early Autumn." she gestured towards the Forbidden Forest's trees, whose foliage had started to turn yellow.
"This feels so... Peaceful."
"It is, the willow will whomp anyone who tries to bother us."
"How did you learn to do this?"
"Winged it."
"Do you know what that means?"
"I think so? I heard it from my mentor. It means to improvise, correct?"
Abigail nodded.
"Your mentor... Is that the one who brought you to Hogsmeade?"
Margaret nodded.
"He makes me wear this flower." she pointed at her hair "In my hair."
"Makes you? Is he some kind of weirdo?"
"Not like that, sorry. He gifted it to me, I don't really care but I would feel bad for the flower if I didn't wear it...I can't really plant it back..."
"She doesn't care..?" thought Abigail, shocked.
She cleared her throat, and like a true Gryffindor, dared.
"Am I your friend?"
"Excuse me..?" asked Margaret.
"What I said."
She didn't answer.
For a while.

"...Y-yes..?"
"Why did you hesitate for so long?" asked Abigail, stirred, and visibily red, whether from anger or bashfulness, neither could tell. "Is it because of what I am?!"
The whomping willow's peace disturbed, it slowly woke up from its slumber, getting more agitated by the minute.
She didn't answer.
Shaking, Margaret slowly turned around, trying to face the girl.
"No. It's... Because of what I... Am."
Overwhelmed, Abigail fell to her knees and hugged her, in tears. She had no clue what she meant.