The Girl Who Saw Tomorrow II » Harry Potter

2.53 | Destination, Determination, Deliberation

Fifteen minutes later, Margaret had turned her and Harry's hair blond and transfigured his glasses into rimless rectangle frames that were charmed to make his eyes appear brown. Soon enough, they were sitting in a corner of the darkened Hog's Head.

Despite how murky and filthy the pub appeared to be, it was filled with odd witches and wizards this late in the evening. There was a female house-elf singing rather nicely in the make-shift open mic set up near the bar. The place was not as well-lit as the Three Broomsticks, but it served in their favour as everyone present was either too drunk to see or simply ignored the two blonds.

"You're a bad influence, you are," says Harry, face still scrunched up from tasting Margaret's firewhisky a moment ago.

"That's what I told Fred when he introduced me to the wonders of wizarding alcohol," she says, snatching her glass back.

Sometimes it was easy to forget that Harry was younger than her. She would never encourage a minor to drink alcohol, just one sip was fine. Hence why, he was stuck with butterbeer while Margaret had gotten herself firewhisky. He looked appreciative of the fact.

"And what did he say?" Harry asks, smirking teasingly.

"'Oh come on, live a little!'" she answers, clinking her glass with his bottle. "Which applies to this situation too. But honestly, I just did not want to be at Hogwarts right now."

"Why?" asks Harry.

Margaret exhaled. How could she explain that since the moment she had left her brother in Dumbledore's study, the visions of the future had plagued her at every corner?

It started on the corner of the topmost floor that looked down at the Grand Staircase. The marble structures were crumbling, shrouded in an almost impenetrable darkness. Then today, in Charms lesson, one second she was sniggering with the rest of the class when Seamus accidentally knocked Professor Flitwick off his chair with a jet of water, the next she was quite alone in the classroom. Tables and benches had been toppled over; there was an enormous hole where the blackboard should be and the night sky outside was alight with flashes of hexes and curses.

Then during lunch, she had looked up at the enchanted ceiling while drinking pumpkin juice and quite literally choked on it when half of the roof appeared like it was about to collapse at any second.

Afterwards, her potion had been so abysmal because she had felt the stone walls shake under the battle that was going on above. She had separated rather abruptly from her friends once the class ended, storming off to the courtyard to get a little respite before enduring Snape's class. But the courtyard showed her more crumbling pillars, lethal spells and faceless friends and foes duelling.

The visions only lasted a few seconds but they appeared far more frequently. By the time Snape's class ended (thank heavens they had to do theory) she had had two more visions. The only time she didn't see the future today was when she was in Dumbledore's office.

"Margie...? Margie!"

Margaret blinked. "Sorry," she mutters. "Head's filled with thoughts."

Harry waited for her to elaborate, but when she didn't, he reached into his pocket and dropped a few sickles on the table between them.

"Sickles for your thoughts?"

"You're so lame," says Margaret, but she was smiling. She cast the Muffliato charm around them and took a long swing of her drink before finally looking at blond Harry. "I can see the future."

"Really?" says Harry, raising a brow. "I had no idea."

"No." Margaret shook her head. "It's one thing knowing the future because you're from the future; it's a whole another thing to See the future. As in, using your Inner Eye and whatnot that Trelawney and Firenze went on about in Divination last year."