"Maybe it'll be a mansion. With enough grounds for Buckbeak to wander through."
"Nah, I doubt it's going to be anything so flashy. Besides, people who live in mansions are always colossal arseholes. You're right about Buckbeak, though. He'll need somewhere to hang out."
"Do you think we'll get our own rooms?"
"No, I think he's going to make us sleep in bunkbeds."
Harry laughed at Winona's deadpan response, stuffing the last bit of his chocolate chip cookie into his mouth. "These cookies are great, by the way!" he said, happily picking up another one from the basket. "And the rest looks amazing too – you didn't have to go through all this trouble for me."
"Did I go a little overboard?" she wondered, eyeing the boxes and boxes full of baked goods she'd spent the better part of the last three days preparing.
"A little," he laughed happily, biting down on his chewy cookie – made just the way he liked them.
"Well, I couldn't exactly afford a proper present, and what with the news of Dudley's diet, I wanted to make sure you had enough to last you," she replied with a tiny smile.
"I love it, really," he assured her. "Just as well, because Hagrid's rock cakes aren't exactly…"
"Edible?"
"Be nice," he said, even as he laughed.
"You should try the red velvet cupcakes!" she said eagerly, reaching into one of the many boxes and pulling out a small, Gryffindor-red cupcake. "I actually went to a library to find the recipe."
"Wow, and it didn't kill you?"
Winona threw her head back and laughed. She tossed him the cupcake and he snatched it out of the air with his Seeker's reflexes, taking a healthy bite. Winona watched him, took note of the happiness that clung to his face, the lightness in his eyes that was a relatively new addition.
"You seem happy," she said, leaning her head back against the edge of his bed. They were splayed across the floor in his bedroom.
It was Harry's fourteenth birthday, and the Dursley's had gone out for the day. Knowing this, Harry had invited Winona over and she'd readily agreed, coming armed with at least seven boxes full of her delicious, homemade treats for them to eat.
"I guess I am," Harry told her with a small smile, idly peeling away at the paper around the bottom of his cupcake. "I mean, being here is never fun – but it's been more bearable than usual."
"The threat of Sirius coming to murder them all still keeping them in line?" she asked with a smirk.
"Works like a charm."
Winona grinned, but before she could say anything there were a low tapping at the window. Both teens glanced up at the big, colourful bird flapping its wings to hover before the glass. "Speak of the wizard," she drawled, watching as Harry sprung to his feet, quickly opening the window to let the bird through. It was huge, struggling to fit through the gap, but eventually it squeezed through, landing on Harry's desk with a low squawk.
It had been carrying a small box in its long talons, which now sat beside it.
Harry tore open the note attached, scanning it with a growing smile. Then, like instinct, he handed it off for Winona to read it too.
It was indeed from Sirius, just a quick note wishing him a happy birthday, saying that he hoped he enjoyed his cake and that the Dursley's weren't too unbearable, then telling him to give her his love when he next saw her before signing off with his name.
Winona smiled, putting down the letter and looking over at the cake. It was red and gold, looking exceptionally fancy, like he'd gotten it done professionally, with the words 'Happy Birthday Harry' written in black icing across the top.
"Wanna have a slice?" asked Harry eagerly.
"I'll go smuggle a knife from the kitchen," she grinned, slipping out of the room and hurrying down the stairs. The house remained empty, for which she was thankful. There wasn't much the three Muggles could have done to her – even if she didn't have her wand on her, she was faster than all three combined – but it was nice not to have to worry.
She grabbed a knife from the holder and scurried up the stairs, slipping back into her cousin's room and wandering back over to the desk where the cake awaited.
"That Errol?" she asked with raised eyebrows, eyeing the raggedy owl, which puffed with exhaustion on the windowsill.
"Ron sent me a card," he explained, putting it down and opening the box along with it, revealing yet another cake, this one unmistakably done by Mrs Weasley.
"Cool, double cake!" she grinned, moving over to Sirius' one and beginning to cut it into slivers. They'd eaten two slices of each when Winona decided to launch into her next topic. "So Fred and George invited me to the Burrow this summer," she began carefully.
"Cool. When?" he asked, cutting himself yet another slice of cake, making her grin.
"They invited me to come tomorrow," she told him, and the piece of cake paused where it was on its journey towards his mouth. "It means I won't be able to come visit you anymore this month," she explained, although she was sure he'd already figured that part out.
"Oh," he said, putting down his cake with a frown.
"The guys know how much I hate it at my foster place, and so they got their mum to agree to let me go finish the summer with them. The World Cup is only in a couple of weeks anyway." Harry was still frowning. "But if you want, I can stay until then instead," she hurried to say. "I don't mind putting it off for a few weeks, if it means you're not alone."
"No, don't do that," he told her quickly, the frown disappearing. "I'm sure I'll be heading there soon myself. That's what Ron said last term, anyway."
"Once I'm there, I'll tell him to hurry up and let you know?" she offered. She didn't want to leave Harry, didn't want him to think she was abandoning him, but at the same time she really, really wanted to go spend the rest of her summer at the Burrow.
"Don't feel bad," he told her with a roll of his eyes, seeming to almost read her mind. "Go, have fun with the twins – you deserve it," he said sincerely, and she swallowed back the urge to gather him in a hug so tight he lost feeling in his arms.
"You're the best – you know that?" she asked with a large, sappy grin.
"Yeah, yeah."
"Come on then, Boy-Wonder," she said, reaching into her back pocket and pulling out a pack of familiar, secondhand cards. "Up for a game of Exploding Snap?"
She left Harry's place that evening, a half hour before the Dursley's were due to arrive home. She made sure all his boxes of treats were hidden away, where his uncle wouldn't see them. They parted with a warm hug, and she pecked him affectionately on the head, right beside his famous scar, making his cheeks turn pink, before heading for the train station.
She spent the next day packing her things and preparing for her trip to the Burrow. The twins were coming by Floo, and she'd arranged for her foster parents to be out of the way when they arrived. They were both workaholics anyway, so it wasn't uncommon for them to be at work all the time.
She had the house to herself, and was reclined on the couch watching an old rerun of Bewitched on the television when the fireplace flared to life, spitting out a very familiar, tall, lanky redhead.
"Win!" he crowed with delight upon seeing her.
"Fred!" she crowed right back, catapulting off the sofa and throwing herself into his arms. She gripped him fiercely, reminded of exactly how much she'd missed him this past month. He still smelt exactly the same, she found, squeezing tighter, his skin so warm it was nearly hot against hers.
The fireplace flared green again and an identical wizard appeared in the living room beside them. "Save some of her lovin' for the rest of us, Freddie," George drawled. Winona laughed, extracting herself from Fred's grasp to hug her other best friend.
"I'm so glad you baboons are here!" she exclaimed, letting go of George and moving immediately over to her trunk and bag.
"Who're you calling baboons?" Fred demanded playfully.
She didn't bother answering the question. "You two gonna help me with my stuff or what?" she asked, and they hurried to pick up her things for her. She grinned at them happily, feeling almost like a missing piece of herself had slotted back into place with their arrival.
George tossed her the bag of Floo Powder, and she didn't even glance back as she ran into the fire, headed directly to the Burrow.
The living room was empty when she arrived, and she stepped out of the way just in time for George to appear, dragging her trunk after him with a low squeak.
Fred materialised a moment later, and then the fire died back down to a low, dull crackling. "Come on," said George, already heading for the stairs. "Let's get this stuff up to Ginny's room, then we can go play some Quidditch-"
"George – she only just got here. Let the poor girl settle in," Mrs Weasley's sharp voice cut through the air, and Winona turned with a smile.
"Hi, Mrs Weasley," she said politely, and the Weasley matriarch shuffled forwards to scoop the tiny Winona into a big, warm embrace. "How've you been?" she asked once she was free, able to breathe once again.
"Just fine, thank you, dear," Mrs Weasley smiled. "Now, I've got something to show you," she said, arm wrapped around her warmly, guiding her through to the kitchen. "Boys, go put away Winnie's things for her, will you?"
"She's our friend, you know. Not yours," Fred grumbled petulantly, but neither woman paid him any attention.
Winona grinned to herself, the expression widening even more when she got into the kitchen and saw what was on the table.
"I found this in an old box of books I had stored up in the attic," Mrs Weasley began, tugging her to a stop beside the kitchen table, where a medium-sized book lay.
Its cover was pink and brown, proclaiming: The Young Witch's Guide to Experimental Recipes…by Emily Emblem.
It looked well used, and Winona knew it meant a lot to Mrs Weasley when she pressed a hand lovingly against the cover. "It was given to me by my mother – it helps you learn how to build your own recipes, how to discover your own special flare for baking."
"And you want to give it to me?" Winona asked, understandably confused.
"Well, Ginny isn't really one for the culinary arts," she said quietly, as though it were a secret and not something anyone would notice within a minute of meeting the girl. "I think it'll be of much more use in your capable hands, dear."
"I – I don't know what to say…" Winona trailed off, humbled by the unexpected gift.
"Say you'll put it to good use."
"I'll put it to good use," Winona promised, and Mrs Weasley dragged her into yet another hug that reminded Winona strangely of Christmas morning. All hope and gingerbread.
She wandered up to Ginny's room a few minutes later, greeting the younger girl with a quick hug, asking her how her summer had been so far.
"It's been okay," she replied, reclining back on her bed and picking up the quill she'd been using to scribble on some parchment. "Mum's making me do my homework now, though. Said I was spending too much time playing Quidditch."
"That sucks," Winona said sympathetically.
"Have you done your homework yet?"
Winona snorted. "Fat chance."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "The twins haven't either. No wonder Percy hates you."
"Percy hates me?"
"Thinks you're a bad influence on the twins," she replied. "Mum's told him off for saying it – in her eyes, you can do no wrong," she said, but the words weren't in any way bitter. They were playfully teasing, and Winona had to laugh.
"Winnie!"
When Fred's voice floated down from above them, Winona met Ginny's eyes, both of them exasperated. "Can't go three minutes on their own, I swear," Ginny muttered. Winona snorted in amusement, leaving the room with a wave and making her way up the stairs to the twins' room.
They were hovering over a cauldron, George stirring it carefully anticlockwise. "Good, you're here," George said without looking up from his task. "Can you help Fred design these order forms? We've got to figure out prices, and you're the only one of us who took Arithmancy."
"Do you even know what Arithmancy is?" she asked, sly and knowing.
"That's not the point," Fred waved her off.
"I've barely been here ten minutes and already you want to put me to work," she muttered, throwing her hands up in the air. "Unbelievable."
"Could be worse," Fred told her solemnly. "You could be talking about cauldron thickness with Percy. That's his newest assignment from the Ministry. You want me to take you to his room? I'm sure he'd love to regale you with talks of day-to-day Ministry life and his work with the Department of International Magical Cooperation," he said in a single breath.
Winona narrowed her eyes at him dangerously. "You play dirty, Fred."
He grinned, wide and charming as he winked at her, and it made her stomach do weird things, so she turned to the stack of parchment sitting in front of him, swiped the feathered quill from his fingers and got to work.
She was great with numbers, and something the twins had trouble with was pricing. They were right to come to her, because at this point they were just looking at their products and picking out a value that seemed fair.
Winona had to sit them both down and explain that their prices had to be dictated by the production and labor cost of each product, otherwise they were either losing revenue or overcharging to the point of callousness.
"How d'you know all this?" asked Fred a good several hours later, Mrs Weasley having called them all down for dinner. "Did you take a course on business while we weren't paying attention?"
She didn't, technically, but it was sorta close to the truth. She decided not to hold back – besides, as embarrassing as it kinda was, she'd done it to help them.
"Went to the library at the start of summer, looking for cookbooks to make Harry some extra food," she began to explain, hand gripping the railing as they made their way down the stairs, George a landing in front of them, hollering something down to Ron about not using up all the apple sauce again. "And while I was there, I took out a book or two about business," she shrugged, trying to convey that it was not a big deal.
"You read a book for us?" Fred asked slowly, like he thought the words might have been in the wrong order.
"I know you guys are focused on the production side of things, I just thought I'd read up a bit, learn some more so I could teach you guys when you needed it," she explained. "I'm no expert, but I did learn at least enough to help you guys out now."
Fred was silent, he didn't say anything at all. She glanced over at him and he wasn't even looking at her, staring down at the stairs before them with his face pulled into a frown. She didn't want to interrupt whatever was going on in his head, so she let him think it through, speeding up to pounce playfully on George's back. He nearly tripped down the remaining flight of stairs, Winona's delighted laughter ringing after them like an echo.
The days passed quickly, and the trio of friends mostly stayed holed up in the twins' room, George and Fred hovering over cauldrons while Winona pored over the order forms, trying to make them perfect. When she wasn't working, she was curled in the corner, listening to them chatter as she sketched – and then occasionally she'd wander down to the kitchen to help Mrs Weasley prepare meals, or bake delicious treats for the family to enjoy after dinner.
The days passed quickly, and before she knew it she'd been there five days. She'd written to Sirius once and Harry twice, telling them how good of a time she'd been having. On the twins' orders she hadn't mentioned anything about WWW – they wanted it kept under wraps, mostly just so their mother didn't find out.
She'd had three visions in her time there so far. One had been of Harry, he was sitting on his bed, sad as he stared off into space. That wasn't uncommon, she usually had visions of Harry looking forlorn – she usually took it to mean he was lonely, and she'd written to him straight after.
Next was an image of a massive crowd in a looming stadium – and in the centre were two Quidditch teams. She'd drawn the World Cup.
"Don't happen to know the outcome, by any chance, Win?" George had asked her slyly, eyeing the piece carefully.
"Why would you want me to tell you the score?" she asked, bewildered. "That ruins all the excitement. It's bad enough that it's spoiled for me – you two are spared. Keep it that way."
They'd pouted and bemoaned for a full day, but she still didn't crack, and so eventually they gave up.
Her third vision was done while she was sketching anyway. She was halfheartedly listening to the twins, Ron, and Ginny play a game of Exploding Snap when it hit her. She dove under it for seemingly only a brief second, came back out to the present with a blink, nobody any the wiser.
She glanced down, knowing what she would see. She'd obviously been gone for a long while, because the sketch in her book was detailed and well-done, plus the group had moved onto Gobstones.
She looked up, hearing the sound of footsteps on the ceiling above her, and quickly slammed her sketchbook shut, drawing the attention of the others.
"Fred," she hissed at them sharply, "George." The urgent tone in her voice made them glance up immediately.
"What?" Fred asked, alarmed by the look on her face.
"Empty your pockets right now," she ordered them, keeping quiet so Mrs Weasley wouldn't overhear, her footsteps still creaking against the floor/ceiling.
"Empty our pockets?" repeated George in sheer bemusement.
"And give them to me, now," she hissed.
"Are you having us on?" Ron asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"I'm not talking to you, Ron," she hissed again, growing anxious. The footsteps above them only seemed to be getting louder – they were running out of time! "Boys, now."
Relenting, the twins began to empty their pockets, handing over all sorts of crazy junk that they'd collected. She tossed aside all the unimportant things, ignoring their shouts of indignation, but when she got to the small stashes of their Skiving Snackbox range, she hastily tried to stuff them in her pockets, only to realise the stupid shorts she was wearing didn't have any.
With a low curse, she began to jam the sweets deep into her bra. The group of Weasleys watched on like they thought she'd just gone completely insane.
Then, from above them, there was a loud, piercing shriek of, "FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY!"
"Sorry, boys," Winona told them, sympathy in her eyes. "This isn't gonna be pretty."
The twins paled, along with Ron and Ginny, both of whom began scrambling away to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.
"She found them?" George asked, fear in his voice.
"She found them," Winona confirmed grimly.
"Found what?!" Ginny demanded, but nobody answered. The sound of heavy, angry footsteps slamming against the stairs was enough to have the twins standing to their feet, just so they'd be prepared if she attacked.
Mrs Weasley thundered into the room with all the force of an enraged hurricane, and Winona winced even before she'd opened her mouth to begin shouting.
"What in Merlin's name are these?! Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?!" she snarled, like the very name itself offended her.
"They're order forms, mum," replied Fred, keeping his cool better than Winona had expected him to. "For our joke shop."
"Your what?!"
"Our joke shop," George repeated, even and sincere. "The one we're opening after we finish school. Clever name, don't you think?" he attempted a friendly smile, but his mother responded only with a withering glare. She seemed to turn red, while the twins only grew more pale.
"You will not be opening a joke shop – I've never heard such nonsense before in my life," she spat at them, and the sheer revulsion in her voice was enough to make their cool facades begin to crack.
"What, I s'pose you expect us to go into work in the Ministry, like dad and Percy?" asked Fred with a disgusted scowl, showing how much he loathed the idea.
"That's exactly what I expect!" she shrieked at him. "You have no business making order forms," she cried, waving the forms in the air to punctuate her statement. "You will not be asking anyone for any money for these silly little…gimmicks."
The twins looked rightly hurt by her words. "Well, you can't stop us!" shouted George, standing his ground. Winona's eyes flickered between the three of them, watching on warily. Would wands be drawn? The twins couldn't technically do magic outside of school, but they'd found ways around the rule before.
"OH, CAN'T I?" Mrs Weasley screeched, stomping over to the roaring fire and tossing the order forms into the flames without so much as a moment of hesitation. Winona winced again.
"Mum!" Fred cried, betrayal thick on his face. "Winnie and I spent days on those!"
"Oh, so Winona's involved?!" she hissed, spinning around to fix her furious eyes onto Winona. But she refused to break under the pressure. Mrs Weasley meant a great deal to her – but any loyalty she felt to her paled in comparison to that of the twins'. If it came down to choosing sides, well, it wasn't much of a choice at all.
"Yeah, I helped," she said evenly, tilting her chin up defiantly as she climbed to her feet. She didn't think Mrs Weasley would hit her – but it was better to be safe than sorry. She'd endured enough of this in the past to know when to be ready to make a run for it.
"What do you think you're doing, indulging them?!" Mrs Weasley shouted at her, eyes like those of a dragon. "You're meant to be a good influence on them! You should want the best for them!"
"I do!" she shouted back. "That's why I'm supporting them, Mrs Weasley! They can do this!"
"I won't have you humouring them!"
"I'm not humouring them! They're following their passion! They're going to have the best shop in Diagon Alley, and you're just pulling them down!"
"EXCUSE ME?"
"Mum!" Fred shouted, stepping between his best friend and his mother, like a human shield to deflect her spiteful words. "Don't talk to her that way!" he yelled, scowling sternly at his irate mother. "At least she cares about what we want. You just want us all to be like Percy."
"I want nothing of the sort!" she snarled back, taking offence. "I will not allow you to throw your lives down the drain chasing some…some daydream!"
"It isn't a daydream!"
"Only three OWLs each?! I expected better from the both of you!"
Fred and George groaned as one. Ginny and Ron had snuck off, leaving before things could turn out badly for either of them, too. Winona was still standing, heart racing in her chest. "Will you drop it, mum?" George begged her. "We got enough OWLS to open the shop – that's all that matters!"
"IT IS NOT ALL THAT MATTERS!" Mrs Weasley hollered, pointing a single, crooked finger at them in threat. "YOU'LL END UP JOBLESS AND HOMELESS AT THIS RATE!"
"Why can't you just believe in us for once?!" Fred shouted back. "Is it really such a stretch to actually believe we'll make something of ourselves?!"
"You won't make anything of yourselves chasing this foolish dream," she hissed dangerously, hair seeming to crackle with rage. "I'm trying to help you!"
"No, you're trying to control us!" George bellowed back. "We're doing this, and you can't stop us!"
"That's it! I'm destroying everything!" she shouted, producing her wand and flicking it at them. The few paperclips and sticks of gum still left in their pockets flew into her hands, but nothing else. She didn't think to turn and try the summoning charm on Winona, just as she'd known she wouldn't. Mrs Weasley turned and stomped up the stairs, the twins rushing after her, begging her to stop, and to listen.
It nearly broke Winona's heart, hearing their desperate cries. This was everything they'd ever wanted, everything they'd worked for, burned in three seconds flat. Winona stomped up to Ginny's bedroom, letting the door slam after her, she threw herself into bed, the old bedsprings squeaking under her weight.
She didn't go down to dinner, but Mrs Weasley didn't call her to anyway, so she figured she probably wasn't welcome. She fell into a fitful sleep, only woken by Ginny as she quietly crept back into her bedroom.
"She hates me," Winona said, startling the younger girl. Ginny jumped, thinking she'd been asleep.
"She doesn't hate you," Ginny assured her as she quickly got changed for bed. "She already regrets blowing her top like that, I can tell."
"She hates me," Winona moaned again, sullen and petulant.
Ginny tutted her impatiently. "Win, mum loves you, she thinks the world of you – she's not going to shun you just because you had one disagreement."
"Yeah," she muttered, pressing her face harder into her pillow, her voice muffled from the feathers. "I guess you're right."
"She has fights like that with people all the time," Ginny told her as she climbed into her own bed. "Just go downstairs tomorrow like normal," she suggested. "It'll blow over in no time."
She wondered, suddenly, if Mrs Weasley knew that she was Sirius Black's daughter. Was that something she'd been allowed to know, back during the first war? She couldn't imagine it wasn't. And the way Mr and Mrs Weasley had looked at her at the beginning of last year…
Winona couldn't sleep – but that was hardly unusual. She tossed and turned well into the early hours of the morning, until eventually she just gave up, climbing silently out of bed so as to not wake Ginny and padding barefoot down the stairs to the kitchen.
She lit the fireplace and tried to read the cookbook Mrs Weasley had given her, but she struggled to read it without feeling guilty or paranoid – like Mrs Weasley would appear in front of her and snatch it back at any moment. She felt like something was coming, like something bad were on its way even in that very moment; like a train she couldn't stop.
She shook off the spooky feeling despite knowing that her feelings were rarely ever just feelings. Putting the book aside, she wandered through to the kitchen just as the sun began to rise, and quickly set about making breakfast.
It was busywork, but she liked it, enjoyed getting flour up her arms and chocolate under her fingernails. Baking was a lot like art, she'd found. They were both creative forms of self-expression. They both took hard work and persistence. By the time Mrs Weasley was meandering down the stairs she was just finishing up the first batch of pancake batter, focusing on heating up the stove to begin cooking them.
Winona's heart was in her stomach. She was scared about what Mrs Weasley would say. Would she ask her to leave? Tell her to get out of the house? It seemed extreme, but foster parents had said and done worse things to her in the past.
"Winona!" Mrs Weasley said, shrill in her surprise at seeing her standing there at the stove with batter on her cheek. "What're you doing?"
"Making breakfast," she answered, struggling to remain at ease, like she thought Mrs Weasley could maybe smell her fear.
"But…why?" the older witch asked, genuinely perplexed.
"I woke up early," she shrugged. It may have been a lie, but she considered it a white one. "Had an itch to cook and a craving for chocolate chip pancakes. Thought I'd kill too birds with one stone." She paused when Mrs Weasley didn't say anything. "I hope that's okay…" she said, suddenly wondering if she'd overstepped and this was when she'd get tossed out and she'd never be allowed back and oh Merlin where would she go––
"Not at all, sweetheart," Mrs Weasley assured her with a kind smile that instantly made her wary. "I'll set about making some orange juice," she said, and the pair worked in silence for a few long, tense minutes.
Winona knew she should have been talking about the night before, hashing out what had happened and keeping things from building up and becoming awkward – but she couldn't put the thought out of her mind that maybe Mrs Weasley knew. She knew who Winona was, where she'd come from.
Had she been lying to her this entire time? Dumbledore's deceit, she could handle – the old warlock had a hand in everything, always playing an angle – but she thought that Mrs Weasley's might just be enough to break her.
She stopped mixing the batter, turning to look at Mrs Weasley so sharply that the older witch paused too, turning to meet her eyes cautiously. "Do you know who my parents are?" Winona asked, blunt as could be.
Mrs Weasley's eyes went wide, and she seemed to flush red under the pressure of the question. "Uh – I don't –" she stammered.
"It's okay, take your time," Winona drawled, aware that she was being condescending, but unable to help herself. It was rather a sensitive issue.
"Jessica and Orion Andrews were their names, right dear?" Mrs Weasley asked, trying a little too hard to sound casual. Winona felt the mortifying urge to cry, but she bit down on the inside of her cheek until it went away.
"Right," she murmured, disappointed by the answer. She should have known hoping for the truth would only lead to more disappointment. Mrs Weasley made a small sound of acknowledgement, turning back to her work. "So you didn't know their real names were Jessica Potter and Sirius Black?" she asked, deadpan and even – a challenge.
Mrs Weasley dropped the knife she'd been slicing oranges with, and it landed in the sink with a loud clatter. Winona felt a curl of victory, but didn't take the time to bask in it.
"Why did you lie to me?" Winona asked Mrs Weasley gently, a genuine curiosity in her voice, and a mild pain that was always there, simmering just under the surface. "Nearly five years I've known you, and not once did you think it fair to tell me, oh, by the way, I know who your parents are – and one of them isn't dead!" she blurted, unable to help herself. She put down the bowl of pancake batter with a thump, resting her hands on the lip of the countertop. "I would have appreciated some honesty," she said, no fight left in her voice. "From you of all people; the only mum I've ever known."
Mrs Weasley sniffled from where she was stood, and guilt trickled into Winona's gut like a poison. She bit back a groan. Here she was, intending to patch things up with the woman, and instead she was making her cry!
"I'm sorry, Mrs Weasley, I didn't mean to make you…" she trailed off awkwardly. This wasn't really her area.
"No, no," Mrs Weasley dabbed at her eyes with a tea towel. "It's okay, Winona. You're right. I thought about telling you so many times – particularly after Black escaped. But – I'm not making excuses – but, Dumbledore asked us not to. It was for your own good, he said. And I thought, well – what you didn't know couldn't hurt you."
Anger raged in her veins for a moment of scorching heat before it evaporated, replaced by only grim acceptance and hazy exhaustion.
"You're nothing like him," Mrs Weasley told her, the words were meant to be comforting, but they were empty. She'd been told by people who knew him well that they were incredibly alike. Still, she half-appreciated the effort.
"He's innocent, y'know?" she tried halfheartedly.
Mrs Weasley was stunned into silence for a few moments. "I – I'm sure that's what you'd like to believe, Winona, but-"
"It's okay," she said, lifted her shoulders in a shrug, a weak smile on her lips. "Agree to disagree."
Mrs Weasley clearly wanted to unpack that a little more, but Winona was closed on the subject, and she could sense it.
"I really thought I was doing what was best for you," she whispered, watching carefully as Winona began to tip more chocolate chips into her batter.
"What was best for me would have been to let me know Harry's my family," she said, the words hard. She wasn't mad at Mrs Weasley, or anyone, really. She was just mad at life, and the way it had screwed her – the way it had screwed both her and Harry. "Anyway," she said with another shrug. "What's done is done. All we can do is move forwards."
Mrs Weasley sniffled again. "I'm sorry about the other night, Winnie," she apologised quietly. "I don't want anything to come between us…I'm just doing what's in the twins' best interest."
Winona smiled, finding the dark humour in it all. "So am I," she said, and that was that.
People idled their way down to breakfast, the twins stiff and grumpy and refusing to talk to their mother. Winona sat between them, offering them second helpings and carrying on a conversation with Mr Weasley about Muggle music, and how it differed from the magical kind.
The days passed quickly after that. The tension between the twins and their mother remained, but things between her and Winona had cooled, and they were back to cooking together as normal.
About a week passed, filled with the same routine as before. The twins had to be more secretive about what they were making, how they were making it, and where they were storing it – but they still kept inventing, never once being deterred.
Late one Friday afternoon, Winona was holed up with the twins as they tried to sort out some new order forms when Mr Weasley shouted, "Ron, Ginny – everyone! Come look who's arrived!"
The twins looked up, bright eyed and happy as they clamoured to their feet, practically tripping over one another in their race to the door. Bemused, Winona wandered down after them, stepping into the sitting room to see two taller redheads standing by the fireplace, both of them being embraced by various members of the family.
She recognised one of them and lit up herself, beaming brightly as she hurried over to his side. He saw her coming – the only blonde in a sea of red – and opened his arms for a hug.
"Charlie!" she called happily, gripping him tightly and laughing loudly as he hefted her up off her feet. "What're you doing here?!" she asked once he'd put her back on solid ground.
"As if I'd miss the Quidditch World Cup!" he scoffed. "So, you got pretty but lost the brains – well, it was a noble sacrifice to make–"
"Charlie!" Mrs Weasley gasped, smacking her son's shoulder in reprimand.
But Charlie and Winona both just laughed, and he ruffled her hair playfully.
"You must be Winona," said a new voice, this one deeper and just a little rougher than his brothers'. He was tall, with long hair and a fang hanging from one of his ears. He was dressed in clothes that someone at a rock concert might wear – and she was definitely digging it. "My brothers all seem to be quite taken with you," he added slyly.
"Good to know," Winona replied with an impish grin. "You must be Bill."
"That's I am," he grinned, shaking her hand politely.
"Come on then, everyone!" called Mrs Weasley to her small army of children. "Everybody wash up for dinner! Especially you, Charlie. You look like you've been wrestling pigs."
"More like dragons, Mum, but yeah," Charlie grinned. The kids all laughed, taking their brothers up the stairs while Winona wandered through to the kitchen where she was quickly put to work taking things out of the oven and mixing up some fresh lemonade for everyone to have with dinner.
Bill was the first one back, and he collapsed in a chair at the dinner table, grinning at Winona roguishly.
"So then," he began the moment his mother had flitted form the room, muttering something about needing to fetch more parsley, "which one of us are you going to marry?"
Choking on thin air, Winona turned away from the jug of lemonade she was mixing and raised her brows at his gall. "Sorry?" she asked, uncharacteristically squeaky.
"I mean, statistically speaking, you're probably going to marry one of us," Bill told her coyly.
"Show me these statistics you speak of," she replied once she'd recovered, rolling her eyes as him and moving over to begin cutting some more lemons for the drink.
"Well, we know it can't be me," he said casually. "No offence, but I think I'm a tad old for you-"
"Stop-" she tried to say with a gasp, her hands suddenly freezing, knife clattering to the floor.
"I didn't mean to offend you-"
"Get me some thing to draw with!" she hissed at him, black spots appearing in her vision.
Bill looked startled. "What?" he asked, eyeing her with mounting alarm.
"Parchment, a quill – anything!" she ordered, gripping onto the edge of the counter as the world swayed beneath her.
Bill was beyond confused, but he was also a wizard, and he knew when not to ask questions.
A moment passed and something was pressed into her hands, and so she let the current of time envelop her.
Music, bright and happy. People were dancing – they were having fun. A redhead, tall and scruffy – and a blonde girl, more beautiful than words could describe. It was all happening so fast. Laughter, the sound of champagne being opened, the scrape of forks against plates ––
Winona jolted back to the present to find she was sat on the floor, her back against the counter. In her hand was a piece of parchment, a letter of some kind that she'd used the back of. In her other hand was a quill. On the parchment itself were two people, stood at the end of an isle, both staring deeply into one another's eyes.
"Winona?" Bill's voice invaded her senses, and she blinked, glancing up at him in surprise. She'd forgotten he was there. "Are you okay?" he asked, holding out a hand to pull her up off the floor.
"Sometimes I call them episodes," she told him mildly, not wanting to say what they really were – visions. "Here," she said. It was his future, and something told her he deserved – he needed – to see it. "This is for you."
He'd never looked more perplexed in his life. He took the parchment, eyeing the sketch carefully. "Is this…a drawing of you and I…getting married?" he asked with a single, cocked brow.
"What?" she hissed, cheeks warming up. "No!" She snatching it back, holding it up to the light properly. "It's your future wedding. You're going to get married to someone blonde. She'll be beautiful; too beautiful to believe. And the wedding is going to be stunning."
"Uh-huh," he hummed, processing it all slowly. "And what's this scar running across my face?"
She considered the question, but couldn't seem to conjure an answer. "I dunno," she shrugged helplessly. "Watch out for that one, I guess."
Bill was staring at her like she were a puzzle he were trying hard to solve. "You're a wannabe Seer, then?"
"Less wannabe, more actually-am," she replied. She wasn't sure why she was telling him, but she got the feeling that he could be trusted – that he would have to be trusted sometime in the distant future. Him knowing this was meant to be.
"And you're telling me because…" he trailed off pointedly.
"I'm at the whim of the aether, Bill," she told him matter-of-factly, "I'm just doing what I'm told." He looked even more curious now. "In return for me telling you who you're gonna marry, and all – do me a favour and don't tell anyone I can do this," she told him with a hopeful smile. "The twins know – and Harry, Ron and Hermione – and Dumbledore. But that's it, and it needs to stay that way."
"Yeah," he said, turning his warm eyes back to the rough sketch she'd just done. "Yeah, if it's real – and I'm not saying it is – then I'd say you'd have a pretty high price on your head," he murmured thoughtfully.
She smiled at him, wide and happy. Another person knew – but instead of terrified she found herself feeling relieved. He was a Weasley – and if there was someone she could always trust, it was a Weasley. (Except Percy; he didn't count.)
Dinner was a fun affair, littered with Charlie and Bill's exciting stories from abroad. Mrs Weasley spent half of it trying to convince Bill to cut his hair, and the other half trying not to cry at how dangerous Charlie's job was.
After they'd finished the last of the strawberry tarts that Winona had made for dessert, she and the twins hurried up to their room, cleaning it out for their brothers to stay in instead.
"Not fair that Percy gets his own room and we have to share with Ron," Fred muttered with a groan of irritation.
"So, I told Bill I was a Seer," Winona blurted from where she was reclined in the corner, making no move to help them strip their beds.
"You what?!" the twins asked as one, whipping around to gape at Winona in shock.
"Bit hard not to when I had a vision right in front of him," she said in her defence. "Besides, the vision was about him – and I didn't actually use the word 'Seer'. Let him think what he wants. But he won't run off telling anyone."
Fred and George continued to stare, and Winona rolled her eyes. "What was the vision?" George finally asked, curious to know.
"I saw his wedding," she shrugged.
"His wedding," Fred echoed in sheer surprise.
"Yup."
"Why?"
"Why does any of this happen, Fred?" she asked, rolling her eyes again. "Come on."
"I don't think it was a good idea," he said, frowning deeply. "You only just met him."
Winona swallowed back the laughter that came bubbling up. "He's your brother," she reminded him, staring into his eyes for the words to sink in. The tips of his ears slowly turned an embarrassed scarlet. Winona smirked at the familiar sight. "Come on," she said, taking pity. "Let's move the stash of products somewhere else – last thing we need is your mum stumbling across them again."
Having Charlie and Bill there was heaps of fun. She'd never thought of the Weasley family as incomplete before, but suddenly she could see the holes that had lingered when they'd left, by seeing what they looked like now, filled.
They played a lot of Quidditch, mixing up the teams often. One person always had to play umpire, because Percy refused to play and otherwise the teams were uneven. Fred and George tried to argue that Winona wasn't even that good, so it really evened out in the end, but despite their efforts (which were, in all honesty, a tiny bit hurtful) everyone still insisted that someone sit out as umpire. But they played so often that it didn't matter, and everybody had a good time.
Hermione arrived the day before they were due to go get Harry. She greeted them all with a bright smile, sparing the women hugs before they ushered her up to their room. Then they went down and helped with dinner together while they talked about their summers.
Ron, Fred and George moaned they were being boring, but Winona shooed them away with the threat of pepper to the eyes and they scurried out to de-gnome the garden instead.
"What about you, Winnie?" Hermione asked once she'd finished recounting a story where a boy bit her father on the finger while in the dentist's chair. She'd snorted, more at how amusing Hermione found this little anecdote than anything else. "What did you get up to this summer?"
"Until I came here, I was really just hanging out with Harry," she replied distractedly, scanning the recipe for how much cinnamon to add to her snickerdoodles before tripling it in her head to feed all the people crammed into the Burrow.
"He told me in his letters that he really loved having you spend time with him," Hermione told her with a gentle smile, and Winona grinned over her shoulder as she shook the contents spice jar into the batter.
"I love spending time with him too," she replied, picking up the spoon to begin mixing. "I've always felt connected to him – at first just because of my visions, I guess – but now that I know he's my family…" she trailed off, a smile on her face. "It makes me really happy that we get on so well. I always thought that was what family should be like, y'know, in a perfect world."
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked politely, taking another sip of the tea Winona had made for them both.
"Well, I grew up in foster care, and ironically, nobody in foster care actually cares," she explained. She'd gotten to a point where saying this to someone was easier. Not easy, exactly, but easier. She trusted Hermione, they were friends, and Winona knew she wasn't going to judge her for her upbringing. "I kinda grew up thinking love didn't exist. Thinking that real families didn't exist – they were just something movies made up to make like seem better than it really was."
"What changed?" Hermione asked, curious.
Winona began to roll the dough into little balls, squishing them down, one by one, onto the baking tray. "Hogwarts; the twins," she replied with a small, happy smile.
"The twins are…great," Hermione said unconvincingly. Winona had to laugh. "They are!" she insisted, but Winona saw through her like glass. "I guess I just can't imagine them being the reason anyone would start to believe in love and families again," Hermione admitted. "Do you want some help with that?"
"Sure," Winona said, nodding for her to wash her hands before showing her how to do it and moving over so they both had room to work. "I can definitely see where you're coming from," she continued once they'd fallen into a steady rhythm. "They put on a front; a loud, silly, boisterous kind of front. But they can be serious too, you know?"
Hermione didn't look convinced.
"They can," she insisted with another laugh. "They can be sincere, and gentle. When I come to them with something serious, they don't play it off as a joke. They talk to me about it. They help me, more than anyone else ever has."
"Why aren't they like that with anyone else, though?"
"I guess you just have to earn it," she shrugged.
"How did you earn it?" she asked, a tiny smile on her lips.
Winona considered it, pursing her lips as she worked. "I dunno, actually," she said. "I guess, like I told you early last term – they're my people," she told her honestly. "It's just how it works with your people. A two-way bond. Or, three-way, in our case – ha ha, three-way," she chortled slyly.
"How old are you, again?" Hermione asked wryly.
"The jury's out," Winona grinned. "But back to the point – suddenly I've got this family. This huge, ethnically mixed, multi-cultural family. It's strange for someone like me to get something this good. And now Harry's a huge part of that."
"It's the same for Harry," Hermione told her. "As far as blood-relations go, you're all he has."
"No pressure," Winona joked with a soft laugh. Hermione smiled, but otherwise didn't comment. "Anyways, do you think we're going to have a good year at Hogwarts?" she asked, growing tired of talking about the boys. "You dropped a few classes, right? No more time turner?"
"Shh!" Hermione hushed her sharply, nearly dropping a ball of dough in the process. "Not so loud."
"Sorry. So, what'd you drop?"
"Divination and Muggle Studies," she revealed with a disappointed sigh. "I would have loved to stay in Muggle Studies, but it really is the least important subject I'm taking. I'm not even learning anything, I got three hundred and twenty percent on my final exam––"
"How is that even possible?" Winona interjected, but she went ignored.
"But it was just too much to take on, I admit that now. And of course Divination is out of the question. I couldn't waste another minute on that ridiculous subject-" Winona cleared her throat pointedly and Hermione's cheeks went pink. "I mean…sorry," she apologised, embarrassed.
Grinning wickedly, Winona merely changed the subject, telling her that she thought she'd like Arithmancy a lot this coming year, and the conversation faded into talk of numbers and school subjects, and things were easy.
The day came for them to go get Harry, and Winona was so excited to see him she was practically bouncing on her toes. "All right," said Mr Weasley after a long day of waiting and anticipation. "Ron, it's time to go fetch Harry. Are you coming?"
"Yeah! Let me just find some shoes..." he scurried away, and Mr Weasley glanced down at his watch.
"Can I come too, Mr Weasley?" Winona asked, seemingly appearing out of thin air in her eagerness.
Mr Weasley blinked at her in surprise, but then nodded his head. "Of course," he smiled. "Harry'll be happy to see you again."
"And us, dad!" Fred and George had appeared, grinning in a way that just spelled trouble. "We're coming too!"
Now Mr Weasley looked unsure. "Uh, I don't know, boys…don't want to overcrowd the Muggles."
"We just wanna see the inside of a Muggle house, dad," said George innocently, both with wide, pleading eyes focused on their father.
"Yeah, we wanna learn more about Muggles," Fred agreed.
And with that their father melted like butter. "Oh, all right then," he caved. "Put some shoes on, we want to make a good impression on these Muggles – they're Harry's family, after all."
Winona wasn't sure that statement was entirely true, but she didn't speak up, moving over to the fireplace and waiting.
Once the boys had all arrived back, shoes firmly on their feet, Mr Weasley went first, shouting Harry's address and disappearing into the flames. "Guess what," Fred began with a large, wicked grin.
"What?" Winona asked, careful and wary.
"We've got a surprise for you," he singsonged to her, and she cocked a single eyebrow at him curiously.
"Am I going to love it or hate it?" she asked warily, watching as he sauntered towards the fire.
"I guess we're about to find out," he said, disappearing into the flames. George followed, and once George he gone, Winona took a pinch herself, turning to look at Ron with a grin before she too shouted her destination and stepped into the flames.
Like being sucked down a tube, she was startled when she was spat out the other end, only to smack into something warm and hard.
"Ouch! What the hell?!" she exclaimed, shoved against what felt like a hard, grimy wall by another body. "Ouch – Fred, get off my foot!"
"It's pitch black, how do you even know it's me?!"
"How do you think, pea-brain?" she hissed back, yelping again when George's elbow rammed her in the stomach. "Ouch! Guys, come on."
"Everybody stay calm," Mr Weasley's voice ordered from somewhere close by. What had happened? Why were they locked in a tiny room?
"Maybe Harry can hear us, Dad — maybe he'll be able to let us out —" Fred suggested, and as one all the Weasleys, plus Winona, began to call out for the Boy-Who-Lived to help them.
"Mr Weasley? Can you hear me?" Harry's voice was muffled but still there.
"Shh!" she hushed the boys, leaning around Mr Weasley to better hear.
"Mr Weasley, it's Harry…the fireplace has been blocked up. You won't be able to get through there."
"Damn!" Mr Weasley swore, and Winona snickered at the preposterous situation they'd found themselves in.
"Why didn't you know that?" George asked her.
"I've never exactly come round for tea!" she exclaimed in reply, irritated by the accusation. "How was I meant to know the fireplace had been blocked up?!"
"They've got an electric fire," Harry called through the wall, hearing their bickering.
"Really?" Mr Weasley asked, suddenly less concerned and more eager for details. "Eclectic, you say? With a plug? Gracious, I must see that… Let's think – ouch, Ron!"
Winona grunted as Ron's bony elbow knocked her clear across the head. She let out a curse that was far from ladylike and made the twins snort.
"What are we doing here? Has something gone wrong?" Ron asked in sheer bewilderment.
"Oh no, Ron," Fred replied, utterly sarcastic. "No, this is exactly where we wanted to end up."
"Yeah, we're having the time of our lives here," added George dryly.
Ron twitched and nearly jabbed Winona in the eye with his elbow. "If you hit me with your elbow one more time –" she threatened him dangerously.
"Boys, Winona," said Mr. Weasley, calm and just the tiniest hint exasperated. "I'm trying to think what to do… Yes … only way … Stand back, Harry." There was a beat, and from the other side of the wall she heard Vernon Dursley's voice shout out in protest, but it was too late, Mr Weasley had already drawn his wand, muttering, "Bombarda."
The wall exploded outwards, chippings and rubble flying everywhere. Winona brought her sleeve up to cover her mouth, coughing as she inhaled some of the dust.
Blinking it from her eyes, she saw they were in the Dursley's living room. She supposed it had once been immaculate, but now it might as well have been a war zone. Dust and debris covered everything, and the Muggles were staring at them in pure, unadulterated horror.
Unsure how to handle the situation, Winona just elected to ignore them and move over to Harry. Both of them were covered in a thick layer of white dust, but neither cared as she brought him in for a quick but warm hug.
"Was that the funniest thing ever, or what?" she whispered into his ear as they embraced, and he snorted loudly into her shoulder, covering it with an unconvincing cough as she pulled away.
"Er — yes — sorry about that," Mr Weasley was saying from behind them. "It's all my fault. It just didn't occur to me that we wouldn't be able to get out at the other end. I had your fireplace connected to the Floo Network, you see — just for an afternoon, you know, so we could get Harry. Muggle fireplaces aren't supposed to be connected, strictly speaking — but I've got a useful contact at the Floo Regulation Panel and he fixed it for me. I can put it right in a jiffy, though, don't worry. I'll light a fire to send Winnie and the boys back, and then I can repair your fireplace before I Disapparate."
"Winnie and the boys," Winona said to Fred and George with a large, shit-eating grin. "We should start a band."
They snickered.
"Hello, Harry!" said Mr Weasley brightly, turning to look at her cousin with a smile. "Got your trunk ready?"
"It's upstairs," Harry replied, grinning back happily.
"We'll get it," said Fred quickly, before anybody else could offer. He turned to wink in Winona and Harry's direction, and she bit her lip to stifle a smirk as they disappeared up the stairs.
"Well," said Mr. Weasley, swinging his arms slightly, while he tried to find words to break the very nasty silence. "Very — erm — very nice place you've got here." Winona laughed silently, the whole thing beyond hilarious, and judging by the looks on Ron and Harry's faces, they were trying very hard not to break out into laughter too.
Mr Weasley was sweet, continuing to try and make smalltalk with the Dursley's, all of whom looked ready to lay an egg. Dudley shuffled into the room, and Winona couldn't help but mutter, "it is me, or has he grown?" to Harry and Ron, both of whom could no longer contain their laughter.
A few tense, awkward and hilarious minutes later, the twins had reappeared, carrying Harry's trunk between them.
"Ah, right," said Mr. Weasley, suddenly seeming just as relieved to get going. "Better get cracking then." He lit the fire, which crackled healthily, then said, "off you go then, Fred."
"Coming," said Fred, entirely too innocent. "Oh no — hang on —"
Winona watched as Fred 'accidentally' dropped a small pouch full of toffees, all of them brightly coloured in all the shades she'd suggested for the shop. She struggled to keep her expression calm. Whatever they were planning, it was going to be brilliant, and the last thing she wanted was to ruin it by giving it away too early with her excitement.
He knelt down to gather up all the sweets, then turned for the fire, shouting, "the Burrow!" and disappearing in a flare of green flame.
"Right then, George," said Mr. Weasley briskly, "you and the trunk."
George left, followed quickly by Ron, then it was just Harry, Winona and Mr. Weasley who remained.
"Well … bye, then," Harry said to the Dursleys, utterly unbothered. He tried to turn away, but Mr Weasley stopped him.
"Harry said good-bye to you," the head of the Weasley house said, brow furrowed in confusion. "Didn't you hear him?"
"It doesn't matter," Harry muttered, head ducked. "Honestly, I don't care."
But Mr Weasley didn't move. "You aren't going to see your nephew till next summer," he said, staring at the Dursleys in indignation. "Surely you're going to say good-bye?"
They looked like the very last thing they were interested in doing was saying goodbye, but they glanced warily at Mr Weasley's wand and muttered, "goodbye, then."
"See you," Harry responded with the same lack of enthusiasm, turning to step into the fire. Only before he could, there was a loud choking sound. Everyone quickly turned to look at the source. Dudley was clutching at his throat, barely able to breathe because out of his mouth, growing larger and thicker with every tick of the clock, was his great, slimy, swelling tongue.
Winona let out a squeak of surprise that very quickly turned into a laugh. She was near hysterical, watching Petunia yank desperately at her son's tongue, not seeming to realise it was attached to his body. Harry chortled from beside her.
The small family wouldn't listen to Mr Weasley's apologies and reassurances, Vernon even began to toss china figurines at them, as though it might in any way help. It was pure chaos, and Winona was utterly delighted.
"Winnie – just go!" Mr Weasley shouted over the mayhem. "You too, Harry! I'll sort this out!"
The cousins met one another's eye, then when a figurine flew so close to them they felt it brush their skin, they nodded in agreement. Harry pushed her towards the fire first and she relented, stepping into it, shouting, "the Burrow!" and gladly disappearing from the bedlam.
She tripped out into the Weasley's kitchen to find hands grasping her by the waist, keeping her from face-planting into the floor. "What happened? Did he eat it?" Fred was asking her eagerly.
But Winona was still laughing. She hadn't stopped.
A beat later Harry tripped out too, and sensing he wasn't going to get any answers from her, Fred turned to help her cousin to his feet, asking eagerly, "did he eat it?"
"Yeah," Harry told him, seemingly dazed. "What was it?"
"Ton-Tongue Toffee," said Fred brightly, turning to look at Winona, whose hysterical laughter had slowed, replaced with low chuckling and a wide, proud smile. "George and I invented them, and we've been looking for someone to test them on all summer…"
"Because no one in this house is stupid enough to eat anything these lumps offer them," Winona explained, and the tiny kitchen exploded with laughter.
It was then that Harry seemed to noticed Bill and Charlie, blinking at them in surprise. He greeted them both, shaking their hands politely. Before they could offer any proper introductions there was the soft pop of someone apparating and Mr Weasley appeared beside George, literally out of thin air.
"That wasn't funny, Fred!" he was shouting before he'd even fully appeared. "What on earth did you give that Muggle boy?"
"I didn't give him anything," said Fred, with an evil grin that made Winona need to smother another laugh. "I just dropped it… It was his fault he went and ate it, I never told him to."
"You dropped it on purpose!" roared Mr. Weasley. "You knew he'd eat it, you knew he was on a diet —"
"How big did his tongue get?" George asked his dad eagerly, practically dancing on the spot in his glee.
"It was four feet long before his parents would let me shrink it!" Mr Weasley said, furious at his sons.
The kitchen roared with laughter, and Winona hopped up onto the tabletop, letting her legs swing under her as she watched the show with a grin.
"It isn't funny!" Mr Weasley shouted desperately. "That sort of behaviour seriously undermines wizard–Muggle relations! I spend half my life campaigning against the mistreatment of Muggles, and my own sons —"
"We didn't give it to him because he's a Muggle!" cried Fred indignantly. The thought of him being a supremacist was an insulting one.
"No, we gave it to him because he's a great, bullying git," added George primly. "Isn't he, Harry?"
"Yeah, he is, Mr Weasley," Harry supplied earnestly.
"That's not the point!" shouted Mr Weasley. "You wait until I tell your mother —"
"Tell me what?" a new voice spoke, and everybody in the kitchen practically froze at the sound of it. "Oh hello, Harry, dear," she said, spotting the young boy and smiling at him kindly. "Tell me what, Arthur?" she pressed, turning to her husband expectantly.
Mr Weasley didn't speak, staring at his wife and doing a brilliant impression of a frog who'd just been hit with a Stunning Spell.
"Tell me what, Arthur?" Mrs Weasley repeated, voice now low and dangerous. Winona was already looking for a casual way to escape the oncoming disaster.
"It's nothing, Molly," mumbled Mr Weasley, "Fred and George just — but I've had words with them —"
"What have they done this time?" demanded Mrs Weasley in a dark voice. Scolding them already, without even knowing what had happened. "If it's got anything to do with Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes —"
"Why don't you show Harry where he's sleeping, Ron?" said Hermione from the doorway, loud and obvious. She had the right idea, but she just wasn't sticking the landing.
"He knows where he's sleeping," said Ron obliviously, "in my room, he slept there last —"
"We can all go," Hermione hissed, eyes flickering to the doorway pointedly.
"Oh," said Ron, finally getting it. "Right."
"Yeah, we'll come too," said George hopefully.
"You stay right where you are!" snarled Mrs. Weasley. Winona clicked her tongue uncomfortably. The last thing she wanted was to get caught in the crossfire once again.
Harry and Ron carefully edged out of the kitchen, and with a teasing salute to the twins, Winona happily followed them to safety.
A/N: Hey guys, hope you enjoyed this chapter. It's currently Christmas Eve where I am, so I guess you could call this one a Christmas present – if you celebrate the holiday, that is. Personally I love the holidays – it's boiling hot in Australia and I'm planning to eat my weight in seafood tomorrow with my family and spend half the day in the pool; how do you guys celebrate the holidays where you live?
Happy Holidays – I'll see you soon with another new chapter!
This week's review mention goes to the guest reviewer "Vanessa". Thanks so much for your review! I can't believe you've read all my stuff – I'm both humbled and amazed. I'm glad you like my characters, it's always the hope when you're writing OC fanfiction. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and the many, many to come.