In Bloom ━━ Harry Potter

i. MARGUERITE IN THE MIDDLE

But, odd name preferences aside, Marguerite's parents are absolutely the bee's knees. ( And that's something she doesn't say lightly because she thinks bees are the fucking best; the entire planet owes those funky little pollinators their lives. ) If there was a recipe for practically perfect parenting, her parents could probably patent it. And though some might argue that it's just good genetics, there's a reason her older brother Basil is on his way to becoming an Auror and her older sister Violet is Head Girl and her other older sister Primrose is the most beloved girl in school and her younger brother Aster can achieve anything he puts his mind to and her younger sister Poppy is a future quidditch prodigy and even little Daisy might be magically gifted because at four years-old she can enchant her stuffies to put on fully-choreographed shows ... which perhaps leads to the question of why Marguerite would say her parents are practically perfect instead of perfectly perfect in every way.

The short answer is: it's because of her.

To be fair, it's not her mum and dad's fault that she is so incredibly ordinary in a family full of extraordinary people. And raising six incredible kids out of seven is certainly nothing to be ashamed of. It was simply as if the universe decided that no, that's enough exceptionalism for one family when Marguerite was born and decided that there needed to be one boring Blumenthal to make up for all the others. It's why her grades are so average ( except for Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology, but that's mostly 'cause she likes living things and her mum is so good with flowers, so Marguerite has been gardening since she learned to walk ) and she doesn't play quidditch or have as many friends as her other siblings.

Marguerite thinks that it's sort of like when you plant all your flowers too close together. If there are too many of them in the same spot at the same time, only so many of them will be able to blossom when it's blooming season. Some sprouts stay small forever. They don't get to grow tall and bask in the sunlight like the others. Marguerite would say that she is that little sprout in her family — the one that will never bloom. Her mum and dad don't agree with that philosophy, though. They just think she's a late bloomer ( "... and in the garden of life, Maggie, the late blooms are especially beautiful!" ) and that eventually someday she'll blossom just as brilliantly as the rest of her siblings.

Margeurite isn't so convinced. For a long time, everyone thought she was a squib until she hit six years-old and finally started showing signs of magic. Her life might have been better if she was a squib, though. At least she'd have had a reason for being unremarkable. And she wouldn't have had to go to a magic school. Instead, she could have gone to Muggle school, lived at home with her parents year-round, and found non-magical hobbies to practice like geocaching or interpretive dance or slam poetry ... But life has never been that simple, so Marguerite Blumenthal is headed back to Hogwarts for her fourth year of school and that's that! No further discussion.

"Marguerite! Where are my Mary Janes? I can't find them anywhere —" her bedroom door comes flying open, revealing her sister Primrose, whose hair is only half-curled and makeup is only half-done despite the fact that they're meant to leave for the train to school in twenty minutes.

"I don't have them!" Marguerite replies indignantly, sitting up from the spot on her bed where she'd been lying down and staring up at her ceiling. Her dad had painted it himself when she was a little girl, imitating the swirling blues and yellows of Van Gogh's Starry Night before charming it to move. It's one of Marguerite's most favorite things in the whole wide world. "Have you checked Poppy's room?"

Primrose stomps her foot. "It's impossible to find anything in there," she whines. "That place is a black hole!" Her bottom lip juts out in a pout. "Could you look for me? Poppy likes you more."