That morning, Arlis had just made her first trip to Diagon Alley for the purpose of getting her school supplies. She still couldn't wrap her head around the whole idea. Magic was real! She was going to go to a magical school. How crazy was that?! It would be a true adventure, and Arlis loved adventures of any sort. She was currently heading inside with her friends, as they had all been out playing in the street like they normally did. They were talking amongst themselves, joking around and doing some planning for the next time they were together (which would likely be tomorrow morning). Arlis paused for a moment and glanced behind them, looking down the street.

She did not expect to see what she did. The door of one of the houses flung open – belonging to the batty, cranky old folks at the end of the lane that nobody dared to bother. A girl emerged, wearing… wizarding robes. Arlis recognized them from the shop. But surely she was wrong… it couldn't be. With a mumbled “I'll see you tomorrow, guys” she made her way over to the girl. She stared at her blankly, unbothered by the fact that staring could be considered rude. If the girl hadn't noticed her, Arlis would tug on the sleeve of her robe. “'Oo are yeh?” she asked, wide-eyed, not totally wanting to mention magic until she was sure that this girl was a member of Hogwarts. She was quite a bit taller than Arlis – which wasn't unusual, as she was rather short – but she seemed to be older, yet without a huge gap in age. She wanted to know more about this girl and why she was here. It was also an opportunity for a new friend! Perhaps even someone who could tell her more about the magical world.

Green flames licked at the hem of Margo's robes as she stepped into the fireplace. She smiled slightly at the familiar tickling sensation and brushed the remaining floo powder off of her palms. Opening her mouth to speak, she failed to see the cloak flying through the air until it landed on her head, muffling the words she spoke. She scowled into the fabric, but the damage was already done. There wasn't enough time to jump out of the flames now. 

The last thing Margo heard before she was whisked into darkness was her brother's voice. "Don't forget this, it's raining at Grandma and Grandpa's." She opened her mouth to retort, or perhaps throw back the cloak, but instead swallowed a mouthful of ash as the fireplaces stared whizzing past. Spluttering, Margo shut her eyes and tucked in her elbows, resigning herself to the fact that she would not be met with the smiling face of her mother's parents at the end of her journey. 

Thankfully, it wasn't very long until Margo landed in an unfamiliar room. She gazed curiously out of one of the windows, wondering where on earth she was. A small woman with grey hair and a stern face came bustling into the room, staring at the ash covered girl in the fireplace. 

"Er hello." Margo coughed slightly, trying to rid the black powder from her throat. When the woman continued to stare, the girl had a sudden flash of inspiration. There was no way that it was ever this sunny in the UK, she thought, especially not with her experience growing up in the depths of the Scottish Cairngorms. 

"Ah bonjour." Margo corrected herself, very satisfied with her quick deductions. "Je suis... désolé pour mon... mess?" She definitely needed to learn more French, something she wasn't opposed to doing, especially if something like this ever happened again. 

"Get out." The woman said, her English perfect, gesturing for Margo to follow her towards the door.

"Could you just tell me where the nearest phone is?" Margo pleaded, but the frowning woman just shook her head, holding open the door. Margo only just refrained from sticking her tongue out at the probably English lady. The people in Aviemore weren't nearly as opposed to French as they were here, she thought. This woman had seemed mortally offended at her foreign words. 

However, as Margo walked onto the road she realised that this town's possible aversion to French was the least of her worries. She was wearing bottle green witches robes in the middle of a muggle street. Or at least, mostly muggle street. Even if there were more magical folk living on this road, she had no interest in meeting them if they were anything like that other witch. Honestly, flooing did go wrong sometimes, it was part of life, and if anyone was opposed to that they didn't deserve to be on the network in the first place.

It was then that Margo decided that she should stop judging the woman. She wouldn't let this rather unfortunate turn of events ruin her day. She was currently exploring a nice sunny location. There was no need to be upset. Besides, she wasn't breaking the Statue of Secrecy by just wearing wizards robes. It must happen all the time.

Just as she had come to her conclusion, Margo was jerked out of her reverie by a tug on her sleeve and a voice questioning her identity. It was a girl with curly blond hair much lighter than her own who was dressed in muggle attire. 

"People can wear clothes like this if they want." She said mildly. Why not show her beliefs about being different to the wider world? "Do you know anyone else who might wear clothes like mine around here? Or maybe just a phone would work." Margo thought aloud, thankful she'd memorised the number of her brother's mobile. Both of her parents refused to have one. Her mother because of her lack of knowledge about muggle technology and her father because of his old fashioned ways. It was lucky that Toby didn't share their views.

"I'm Margo, by the way." she added, smiling. The sun felt so nice on her face in comparison to the rain that was falling at home.

Arlis's blue eyes were widened as she stared at the girl. Surely she was magical, or why would she be wearing that? She had said that people could wear clothes like that, though, so maybe she was just different to most… Arlis decided to just take her chances. “Are yeh a witch then?” she said bluntly, keeping her voice hushed. Her eyes were still slightly wide. If she wasn't, then it was fine and Arlis could be dismissed as being childish, imaginative, and possibly crazy. No worries. If she was, though, then any confusion from being vague would be cleared up! Arlis silently congratulated herself on her awesome plan and conclusion.

“Oh, an' yeh can come in fer sure!” she said quickly as an afterthought in response to the thing about the phone, attempting to tug the girl by the sleeve in the direction of Arlis's house. She released it for a moment to bounce around the taller girl excitedly. “Yeh can see me cat! An' me parents'll be fine wiv it, we 'ave me mates over a lot.” Her eyes were shining as she looked up at the girl eagerly.

She had said that her name was Margo, but as she hadn't given her last name, Arlis would have to be giving her a nickname when she got to know her better.

“A witch?” Margo questioned the bouncy blond girl, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Who’s asking? And say if I did know a thing or two about the magical arts, would we have a problem?” She smirked, drawing her wand out of her pocket and twirling a strand of her short hair around it for effect.  

This young girl with the very non Scottish accent was very enthusiastic, she thought. Perhaps she would have a more enjoyable trip to this strange accented town if she joined the girls optimistic antics. Honestly, Margo couldn’t tell whether this girl was a muggle pretending to be a witch or a witch pretending to be a muggle pretending to be a witch. Maybe she actually was an innocent child who had recently received a Hogwarts letter, but Margo had already been assaulted with a cloak and tossed out of a possibly French woman’s house in just ten minutes, so she wasn’t really in an innocent sort of mood. Either way, her blond conversation partner seemed like somebody who it couldn’t hurt to have a fun conversation with. “How about I take a guess at the name of this town, and you can ask me anything you want about warts, toads, cauldrons or broomsticks?” Margo’s eye’s glinted with mischief. 

“Hmm, so tell me, am I in Westfrance, or Magicalresidentsareweird-ville? Actually, is that a sea breeze I smell? Is this the Isle of Flootoblondies?” 

But when the girl spoke, Margo was a little taken aback at the blondie’s kind offer. On second thoughts, she probably should have waited a little until unleashing her full spiky, crazy personality on this poor victim. Oh well, she thought, at least they were being honest with each other. This girl didn’t seem like she had a lying bone in her body, and now that everything, including her witchiness, was out in the open, their relationship could roll on smoothly. 

“I’d love to come inside.” She grinned, not really caring if she looked like a maniac as her robes fanned out in a nice cool breeze and her eyes glinted a few shades darker than the sunshine. “What’s the name of your lovely helldemon?  Whoops, I meant feline.”