Winona was awoken that morning by a most unexpected source. Somebody was poking her in the shoulder, whispering her name. Winona batted at whoever they were, curling deeper into Fred and muttering something unintelligible.
"Winnie!" Harry said louder, and Winona blinked open her eyes.
"Harry?" she asked, peering up at him in confusion. She glanced at Fred, who stayed asleep, face slack and mouth open as he dozed. "What're you doing in here?" she asked her cousin, who looked embarrassed to be there at all, particularly when he realised she was dressed only in Fred's Quidditch jersey.
"I had a feeling you'd be in here – I thought I'd ask if you wanted to write to Sirius with me?" Harry whispered.
She was touched by his thoughtfulness, but ultimately too drowsy to worry about writing to her dad. Winona shook her head. "Just tell him I said hi, and that I'll write him soon," she yawned, already curling in on Fred, ready for sleep to reclaim her.
"You sure?"
"Sure am," she replied, eyes fluttering shut. When she opened them again, Harry was gone, the sun was beaming in through the dorm's windows, and Fred was sitting up in bed. She blinked awake, peering up at him sleepily. "Morning."
Fred looked away from Lee, who was saying something about the Herbology homework, and smiled warmly. "Morning, love."
"Would you put on some trousers?" George griped from where he was sat on his trunk, tying his shoelaces. "Not all of us want to see your knickers flashing about."
"Speak for yourself, mate," said Lee with a playful leer. Fred threw a pillow that hit him directly on the nose and he cried out in shock at the blow. Lee quickly got out of there, before Fred could throw anything else at him, laughing all the way down the hall.
"Glad to see you two kissed and made up," George said as Winona sat up in Fred's bed and stretched her spine until it popped. "What was all that tension about, anyway?"
Winona and Fred exchanged a look, questions in the latter's eyes. Winona nodded once, and so Fred turned back to his brother and began to tell him all about Umbridge's punishment – and her threat on them.
"You're joking," George deadpanned. Winona's only answer was to hold out the offending hand so he could get a good look at the scarred words etched into her alabaster skin. "Merlin's balls," he said, holding her hand up to his face, horror in his eyes as he stared at Umbridge's demonic handiwork. "This has got to be illegal."
"Of course it is," Winona agreed, taking her jeans from Fred and pulling them up over her bare legs. "But Umbridge has the backing of the Ministry. I doubt reporting her would do any good."
"We can try," said Fred heatedly. Winona knew then that he'd kept himself calm the night before – but only for her benefit. She could see the ire burning in his eyes now, hatred for that awful woman simmering beneath his skin.
"It isn't worth it," she told them. "We need to be smart about this."
"Smart got your hand butchered up," Fred growled.
"Well, yeah, but only because I didn't have the two of you," she said, fluttering her eyelashes for effect. Fred's jaw ticked, and she stepped towards him, pressing a hand to his face. "I'm not going to hide it from you again. We'll tackle this together, or not at all."
The anger dissolved from Fred's eyes, replaced by quiet calm. He nodded, his barely-there stubble scraping against the skin of her palm. She smiled at him warmly.
They made their way downstairs to the Great Hall, lured by the smell of breakfast. Hand tangled with Fred's, Winona paused in the doorway to the hall as she realised almost the entire student body was alternating between staring at her and whispering behind their hands.
"Er, is it just me, or is everyone staring?" Fred whispered from the corner of his mouth.
At the Gryffindor table, Alicia caught Winona's eye and waved her forwards. Wary, she led Fred over to their usual spot along the table. Lee was holding that day's copy of the Prophet in his hands and he was wincing at whatever was written inside.
Winona took a seat at the bench with a groan. "And what item of my dirty laundry is the Prophet airing today?" she demanded, pulling a pancake onto her plate and beginning to pile it with fruit.
Her friends exchanged wary looks. "Erm – it's about Sirius Black," said Alicia carefully, unsure how she would respond.
Winona's heart leapt into her throat. "They didn't catch him?" she breathed, all but ripping the paper from Lee's slack hands, scanning the article with wild eyes.
"No," said Alicia as she read. "But they received a tip that he's hiding in London."
"Oh," Winona sighed with relief, tossing it aside once she'd read the article. It basically just restated everything the public thought they knew about him, with the added detail of an anonymous tip saying that he was hiding out in London. Nothing immediately concerning. "He's fine."
Her friends all exchanged wary looks, and the twins became very interested in their breakfast. "Winnie," began Katie, a hesitant look on her face. "You haven't, er, been in contact with Sirius Black, have you?"
"Better I don't say," said Winona around a mouthful of food, gesturing at them with her fork. "Plausible deniability and all."
"Winnie," said Angelina reproachfully. "He's a convicted felon."
Winona's eyes went hard. "He's innocent."
Her friends exchanged another concerned glance, as though Winona were some deluded child. They could think what they want – the important thing was that she and Harry knew the truth. Nobody else's opinion really mattered. But that didn't stop her from feeling offended on her father's behalf.
Fred stepped in before she could bite anyone's head off. "Agree to disagree," he said briskly. "Hey Lee, you ever hear that one about the Italian chef who died?"
Lee looked up from his breakfast, eyebrows raised.
"He pasta-way," Fred finished with a cheesy grin. Lee snorted into his cereal and Winona squeezed Fred's leg in thanks.
That afternoon, all her friends except Lee had Quidditch practise. Winona kissed Fred in farewell, ignoring George's playful catcall, and waved as they all made their way down to the Quidditch Pitch for practise. Winding her arm with Lee's, the pair of them made their way up to the common room.
Lee wanted to be a Curse Breaker when he left school, so he'd taken on more classes than Winona or either of the twins had; meaning he had a great deal more homework. She had homework of her own that she was neglecting, so she sat beside him in the corner of the common room and got to work on the Charms essay due Wednesday.
Lee fetched a colourful assortment of sweets for them to munch on throughout the afternoon, and Winona took a pink Sugar Quill from him with an affectionate kiss on the cheek. "I ever tell you what a legend you are?" she wondered, ripping off the plastic and stuffing it in her mouth.
"I could stand to hear it more often," was Lee's only response, the majority of his attention focused on the draft of a Potions essay due Monday morning.
They worked in easy quiet, speaking up every so often to ask for a fresh pair of eyes on their latest work, but otherwise just getting the work done. Winona finished long before Lee, but she stayed down in the common room to keep him company, sucking on her third Sugar Quill of the afternoon and halfheartedly sketching the Gryffindor Quidditch team from memory.
Winona was surprised when two of the team wandered in far earlier than expected, and she left Lee with a muttered excuse he barely heard, crossing the room to where Ron and Harry had paused by the entryway where Hermione was working on her own mountain of homework.
"Hey," she greeted them, Sugar Quill in one hand, sketchbook in the other. "You're back early. Everything okay?"
Ron and Harry exchanged a weary look. "Fred accidentally fed Katie the wrong end of a Skiving Snackbox. Angelina had to call off practise when he and George took her up to the hospital wing."
Alarm rang like bells in her gut. "Crap. Is she okay?"
"She's fine," said Ron, but he sounded particularly gloomy.
Winona glanced to Hermione, who looked just as surprised by the glum tone he used. "Well, other than that, how was practice?" she asked in her best attempt at a supportive voice.
"It was completely lousy," Ron sighed, collapsing into the open chair beside her, arms crossed petulantly over his chest.
"Really?"
Ron's features narrowed into an unexpected glare. "What, you didn't See it happening?" he asked hotly.
Winona arched a single brow, and Hermione stepped in in an attempt to keep things civil. "Well, it was only your first one," she said consolingly, "it's bound to take time to-"
Ron sat up straighter. "Who said it was me who made it lousy?"
Hermione blinked, blindsided by the attitude. "No one," she said slowly, seeming to realise Ron was in a worse mood than she'd assumed. "I thought-"
"You thought I was bound to be rubbish?"
"No, of course I didn't!" Hermione sounded exasperated now. "Look, you said it was lousy so I just-"
But Ron didn't have the patience to sit and listen. "I'm going to get started on some homework," he declared, and in the blink of an eye he was at the stairs leading to the dorms, his angry footsteps loud against the floor.
Hermione turned to Harry. "Was he lousy?"
"No," said Harry without so much as a moment's hesitation. And if it hadn't been so clearly automatic, they might have even believed him.
"Come on, Boy-Wonder," Winona said, collapsing in Ron's abandoned chair and kicking her feet up onto the table. "Tell us the truth."
Harry sighed. "Well, I suppose he could've played better," he confessed quietly, "but it was only the first training session, like you said…"
"Nerves get the best of us all, sometimes," Winona told him sagely. "But if he'd stuck around for longer than it took to insult us, I'd have been able to tell him I've Seen him play."
Harry sat up straighter. "Is he any good?"
Winona grinned. "The Slytherins might have their taunts, but Gryffindor comes up with some pretty brilliant chants of their own," she told him. "Maybe mention that to him, once he pulls his head out of his arse."
Harry wandered up to the dorms to go soothe Ron's ego, and Winona left Hermione with a smile, dropping back into place beside Lee and happily sucking on a Sugar Quill – green, this time, like sour apples.
Fred and George reappeared later in the evening, the latter with an arm wrapped around Katie's waist, her head resting on his shoulder. Despite the red stain left on her face from the blood, neither seemed particularly displeased by the situation. Winona met them at the stairs, giving Katie a concerned once-over.
"What happened?" she demanded, looking at the three of them crossly.
"Ron hit me in the nose with the Quaffle," said Katie, voice a little thick from the blood. "Wouldn't have been so bad if Fred hadn't given me the wrong end of a Nosebleed Nougat."
Tutting, Winona slapped her boyfriend on the shoulder. Fred flinched away from her dramatically, and she narrowed her eyes at him dangerously. "I didn't mean to!" he insisted, rubbing his shoulder with a wince.
"Unbelievable," she murmured, casting him a deeper frown before looking worriedly at Katie. "Madam Pomfrey fix you up?"
"She stopped the bleeding and gave me a Blood-Replenishing Potion, but I'm still feeling a little weak. She told me to sleep it off," Katie told her with a wince.
"And sleep it off, you shall," she said, shooing George away. He very reluctantly removed his arm from around Katie's waist, watching as Winona took up his spot, supporting a tired Katie's weight. "It's quiet up in my dorm; you can kip there for awhile."
"What, no kiss?!" called Fred after them as she began to lead Katie slowly up the staircase.
"You're in trouble!" she called without looking back at him. He muttered something she didn't catch, but whatever it was made George snort loudly in amusement.
Winona let Katie have her bed, where she slept off most of the exhaustion. Winona sat on Angelina's bed and experimented with the watercolours Harry had gotten her last Christmas, smiling as Katie softly snored.
The next day dawned and the twins were in full inventing mode. They took a large selection of first-years out into the castle, where their human experimentation was less likely to be shut down by a well-meaning prefect. Winona elected to stay in the common room for the day, wrapping herself in a blanket in a chair by the fire, alternating between working on homework and sketching in her book.
Her friends filtered in and out – the girls splitting the day between study and time spent down at the pitch. It wasn't a proper Quidditch practise, they said, just a lighthearted game between friends. Winona declined their invitation to join them. Something deep in her gut was telling her the Gryffindor common room was exactly the place she needed to be.
It was later on in the afternoon that there was a tapping at the glass window to her left, followed by a telltale tingle down the length of her spine. Winona looked up to see Ron bringing Hermes – Percy's owl – in out of the wind.
Crawling out from underneath her small mountain of blankets, Winona wandered over to Ron, Harry and Hermione, all of whom were reading the letter with great scowls on their faces.
"Do I even want to know?" she asked. Ron started, having been so focused on the letter that he hadn't heard her approach.
Harry thrust the letter into her hands, and she took it from him, scanning it with mild curiosity. It was unexpected, but hardly uncharacteristic of Percy. It offered Ron congratulations on becoming a Gryffindor prefect, with a heavy dose of unsolicited advice thrown in. Percy warned Ron to keep away from Harry, or risk earning as bad a reputation as he had.
He then went on to criticise his own parents, even going so far as to say that he would be happy to accept their apology when they finally came to their senses; as if Percy himself wasn't the one completely in the wrong.
It was towards the end of the letter, however, that Winona's attention was truly piqued.
And on that note, Ron, Potter's cousin isn't such a good influence these days, either. I know Fred and George have always been rather besotted with the girl – but Black is dangerous, particularly in times such as these (And don't go forgetting who her father is. I've also heard from a reliable source that she's even still in contact with him. No good can ever come from that family). Dumbledore has Black firmly under his thumb, and there's talk that he's intending to use her against the Ministry. I know you won't be able to convince the twins not to associate with her – they're stubborn as garden gnomes – but do yourself a favour and keep well out of her way. You can't trust a single thing out of that girl's mouth.
Please think over what I have said most carefully, particularly the parts about Harry Potter and Winona Black, and congratulations again on becoming prefect.
Your brother,
Percy
By the time Winona was done, she was practically vibrating with rage. Harry took the parchment from her slowly, like she were a bomb that might explode should he move too suddenly.
"Well," said her cousin in the kind of voice that told her he was struggling to appear unruffled, "if you want to – er – what is it?" He glanced down at Percy's letter, "Oh yeah – 'sever ties' with me, I swear I won't get violent."
Winona snorted at his weak joke even as she ground her teeth together hard enough to hurt.
Ron abruptly snapped, rather like a cord pulled too tight. "Give it back," he growled, then set about tearing up the letter with vigour, like if he were rough enough, he might cause Percy some pain. "He is the world's biggest git," he snarled, tossing what scraps of the letter remained into the fire.
Hermione looked rather admiring at Ron, but Harry was looking at Winona. "You all right?" he asked carefully.
"I'm fine," she said, voice hollow to even her own ears. "What a prat…"
Harry reached for her hand, squeezing comfortingly. "Maybe he'll come to his senses."
Ron snorted indignantly. "It'd take a bloody miracle," he muttered. "Come on, we've gotta finish all this homework…"
Winona squeezed Harry's hand in return, then with an unconvincing smile went back to her spot by the fire. The blankets didn't feel quite so warm and cozy as they had before that blasted letter, but the weight atop her shoulders was a nice one. She went back to drawing, snapping the graphite of her pencil no less than three times, because she used too much pressure in her fury.
She didn't realise she'd been glowering into the dancing flames of the fire until someone dropped onto the couch beside her. Winona looked up to find Fred with his eyebrows raised in question. "What's up?"
Her features hardened into stone. "Your brother's an absolute twat – that's what's up."
Fred reeled back at the fury in her voice. "Geez, what'd Ron do now?"
"What – no – not Ron. Percy, obviously."
"Ah," he nodded in understanding. "Yes, well, that's not exactly groundbreaking news, is it? What'd the stupid prat do this time?"
Winona recited what she remembered from the letter, watching with dark satisfaction as the levity in Fred's eyes melted into ire. George, seeming to sense his twin's abrupt change of mood, quickly crossed the common room to join them.
"He said what?" George asked, absolutely scandalised.
Fred's eyes practically screamed murder. "I'm gonna kill him," he announced matter-of-factly, like someone else might announce it to be raining outside.
Winona waved his threat away. "He's not worth the effort," she said, falling back against the back of the couch, a crease appearing between her brows. Her head was beginning to ache from so many consecutive minutes of frowning.
"He's completely lost the plot," whispered George, staring into the fire, looking oddly haunted.
"Were you ever close to him?"
She wasn't sure what prompted her to ask, but once she did, she knew it was something she'd always wondered in the back of her head. The twins exchanged a look, seeming as surprised by her question as she was.
"I mean, I know once he came to Hogwarts it all went to shit," she said quickly. "But surely things were different, back when you were all just kids."
Fred reached for her hand, which she realised was clenched tightly around her pencil. He plucked it from her rigid fingers, reaching up to skewer it through her hair, right beside her wand. Then he caught her hand in his, threading their fingers together. A simple comfort. "Percy was never our favourite brother, but he wasn't always such a prick."
"He even used to play Quidditch with us, sometimes," added George from where his arms were slung over the back of the couch they were sat on. "And he helped teach us our ABC's. Even as a toddler, he was a brown-noser."
Winona hummed, stroking her thumb over the back of Fred's hand. "Wonder what went wrong?"
"Your guess is as good as mine," murmured Fred. "Personally, we always thought he'd end up either in Ravenclaw or Slytherin. He was always too intellectual, too ambitious."
"He's certainly acting like a Slytherin, these days."
"Fancy him saying he'll accept mum and dad's apology," chuckled George, but his laughter didn't sound amused. It sounded bitter. "As if they're the ones who have to apologise."
"Think he'll ever come to his senses?" Fred mused.
The world around Winona flickered and shuttered, the present disappearing, replaced by the dull roar of a distant crowd. Where was she – she couldn't see – screams echoed all around her. She could hear spells being cast from faraway. A flash of a face, familiar in design but foreign in expression.
The stuff time was made of began to trickle all around her, like wax melting over the sides of a candle, and with a sensation of falling, Winona reappeared back in her seat in the common room, the weight of Fred's arm on her shoulders.
She blinked at the drawing before her, staring down at it dazedly. "Huh, I dunno if I've ever seen Percy smile like that – except maybe the day he found out he was made Head Boy," George said, leaning over her shoulder to get a better look at her prediction. "When is this? He didn't just get told he was being made Minister for Magic, did he? That's the last thing we need."
"Dunno," she murmured distantly, mind still half in the past. "I think it's…three years from now."
"Three years?" echoed Fred. "I shouldn't be surprised; that's at least the minimum amount of time I'd put on Percy pulling the stick out of his arse."
But the vision hadn't been a happy one. Percy was smiling – yes – but outside the frame of his face, beyond the white page of her sketchbook, Winona could see the rest of the scene. Death and destruction surrounded him, their once beloved castle blown to pieces, blood coating the floor.
"I have to go see Dumbledore," she said, scrambling to her feet and trying not to trip over her own blankets.
"To tell him that one day, Percy's not gonna be such a prat?" George asked, bewildered. "It's hardly Dumbledore-worthy news."
"Not that," she murmured. "There's more, but I can't…" Winona sighed, quickly shoving her things into her bag. "I've gotta go. I'll see you later."
She stayed long enough to peck Fred on the lips before heading for the doorway. She was surprised, however, when Harry stepped in her path, bringing her to a stop.
"Sorry Harry, I've gotta see Dumbledore-"
"I know, I figured – from the vision and all – but I was hoping to ask a favour."
Winona was already nodding. "Name it."
Harry took a moment to put words to what he was feeling. "Dumbledore's been…ignoring me," he said it slowly, like he thought she might laugh in his face.
Winona was quick to reassure him, "Harry, I'm sure he's not-"
"I know what I've seen," he interrupted her sternly. She fell silent, watching him, and Harry sighed. "Look, I just want to know why he's going out of his way not to talk to me. I was hoping you could find out."
"Well, I'm heading there right now. You can come with me-"
Harry shook his head. "No, if you've had a vision, he won't want me there to overhear it," he said glumly. "Just – I dunno, I was hoping you might have answers…"
"I'll admit, I've been a bit distracted lately," she confessed. "I haven't Seen or noticed anything. If you want me to ask him-"
"You don't – you don't have to do that," said Harry, frowning. "Look, it doesn't matter. Just – I'll see you later."
With that he turned, heading back to where Ron and Hermione were working on their homework by the fire. Winona wanted to call after him, but she got the sense he was in a mood, and nothing she said was likely to bring him out of it.
Sighing, she left the common room. The corridors of the castle were dank and chilly, but Winona cast a Warming Charm around herself and kept going, winding up staircase after staircase until she came to Dumbledore's office.
"Pumpkin pasties," she said to the gargoyle that guarded the entrance. It shifted aside to reveal the staircase beyond. Winona knocked twice on the door, then waited a long few moments for Dumbledore's call for her to enter.
"Miss Black," said Dumbledore from where he was stood by his Pensieve. "Is everything all right?"
"I had a vision," she told him, and without another word he made his way to his ornate desk, taking a seat and folding his hands atop it. Winona fished her sketchbook from her bag, even though was she had to tell him couldn't be seen in the sketch. Placing her sketchbook down on the desk, she watched Dumbledore stare at it in silence.
"Percy Weasley?" he finally asked, understandably confused.
"It isn't so much Percy that's the interesting part – it's not even what you can see in this sketch. It's everything you can't see."
Dumbledore's blue eyes narrowed from behind his half-moon spectacles. "I don't follow."
Winona began to pace the length of his office, gesturing wildly as she spoke. "When I had the vision, I saw a complete picture. This moment – this exact moment – is going to happen three years from now, here at Hogwarts, during the final battle."
Dumbledore shifted, sitting just a little bit straighter. "Are you saying you know where and when Voldemort will make his final stand?" he asked, voice giving nothing away.
"Yes. I'm saying it's going to happen here, at Hogwarts, in three years time. That's when everything ends," she blurted, just glad to be telling someone – anyone – the information. It didn't feel quite so heavy, now that she'd said it aloud. Now that the burden was shared by another.
"And have you Seen the outcome of the battle?" he asked, unable to mask the hope in his voice.
Winona opened her mouth to respond, but quickly realised she didn't have an answer. She shut her mouth with a click and shook her head. "No, I didn't See how this all plays out. All I know is the where and the when."
Dumbledore turned to look at Fawkes, who was sat dozing on his perch. He stroked a finger down the bird's crimson coat, lost in deep thought. More words bubbled out of Winona, spilling from her lips before she could stop them.
"And when I call it a battle… Dumbledore, I mean it's a battle. It's a war. The castle crumbles around us; bodies litter the floor. It's like nothing I've ever seen – like, like something out of a film…"
The haze in Dumbledore's eyes faded away, replaced by something sharp and alert. "This isn't a film, Winona," he thundered. "This is reality; a reality that isn't all too far away."
Winona dismissed it; she knew the reality of it better than even him, and she wouldn't be lectured on the future by someone who had never even been there. "We can tell people – let them know it'll be over in just three years. They can start training for the battle-"
Dumbledore held up a hand to silence her, and Winona fell obediently quiet. She watched as Dumbledore's icy eyes flickered about the room, and she got the feeling he was a million miles away. "We can't tell anyone," he eventually told her.
Winona froze, confusion and disbelief warring in her head. Had she misheard?
"What do you mean, we can't tell anyone?" she demanded. "This is exactly why I have this ability – this is exactly why I have these visions, so that I can prepare people-"
"The reason you have these visions, Winona, is not to alter the course of history, but to nudge it in small, subtle ways."
Winona stared at him, mouth agape. "I don't understand."
"A moment changed; a life saved here and there; small changes to the order of things can be sustained. But say you warn people of this battle. Say they know it's coming, and they prepare themselves, maybe decide they don't want to be involved at all… The entire battle could be written out of existence."
Winona still wasn't sure she got it. "But wouldn't that be a good thing?"
"What if whatever replaces the battle is worse?" he asked smartly. "What if more people die? What if we lose the war entirely? What if Voldemort kills everything and everyone you love? Are you willing to take that gamble?"
It was harsh, but she was beginning to see his point. "But what if what replaces it is better?" she asked desperately. "What if I can make it so we avoid this war altogether? So nobody has to fight? Nobody has to die?!"
Dumbledore surprised her by stepping around the desk. He moved towards her, placing his large, gnarled hands on her shoulders. The weight was reassuring, helping ground her to the present, but his eyes were inscrutable as he stared at her, half-moon spectacles gleaming in the firelight.
"No one person should ever wield that power, Winona," he said slowly, enunciating each word, making sure they were understood. "Not even someone wielding it for what they think is the greater good. A wizard should never play God."
"But I have this power for a reason-"
"And that reason is to save who you can save, to protect the people you love, to help Harry," he implored her. "It's not so you can stop every bad thing from happening to anyone, ever."
Winona stared up at him, and he read the defiance in her eyes with a sigh.
"Winona, there is going to be a battle," he told her severely, meeting her stare unflinchingly, his blue eyes glittering with authority. "There's nothing you can do to change that. You may be able to influence where, and when, but you can't change the fact that it will happen."
She swallowed around the lump in her throat. "So, what? I'm just meant to sit on my hands and do nothing?"
Dumbledore leaned down so that their eyes were level, his hands still braced on her wiry shoulders. "You know what's going to happen even before it does," he told her urgently. "That is a gift most of us can only dream of possessing. Use your knowledge – but be smart about it. Don't go for the obvious changes. Some evils, I'm afraid, are necessary."
Winona stared up at him, wishing she couldn't see his point. She wanted to pretend he was wrong. Wanted to deny it all – her responsibility, Harry's destiny – but the fact was that she couldn't. Everything happened for a reason, and he was right, some evils were necessary.
Three years from now, in this castle, when it all went to hell for one, final time, she had the unique position of knowledge. She knew it would happen, and maybe she couldn't prepare everyone. Maybe she couldn't gather the citizens of Pompeii up in the square and tell them to run from the volcano. But she could prepare herself.
When the time came, she could be ready. She could know who would die, and when, and where. She could stop the bad things from happening. Maybe she couldn't prevent the entire thing, but her role in this war wasn't to end it all – that was Harry's job. Maybe her role in all this was as simple as minimising the collateral damage.
"Do you understand, Winona?" Dumbledore asked, eyes peering into hers, serious and imploring.
And Winona nodded her head. "I understand."
Dumbledore stared an extra moment, considering her carefully. "It probably goes without saying, but I would consider this information something I wish to keep Harry from knowing," he said casually, but the specific wording made her pause.
The memory hit her suddenly, crisp and clear, from only two months beforehand.
"And, under no circumstances, will you tell Harry Potter that which I mean to keep hidden, for his own protection," Dumbledore had said, that day in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, when she'd sold her soul and made the Unbreakable Vow.
If this was something Dumbledore wished to keep Harry from knowing, she literally had no choice but to obey. Otherwise her own life was forfeit. Maybe one day something would be worth that; but that day was not today.
"I understand, sir," she told him, chin tilted up in a show of bravery.
"Are you sure you do?" he asked, voice grim.
"I'm sure."
Dumbledore gazed at her one extra second, then nodded his head and took his hands off her shoulders. As though she'd been holding her breath this entire time, Winona took a deep breath of air, letting herself relax now that he was out of her space.
"Very well," he said mildly. "If that's all, you may go back to your common room."
Winona retrieved her sketchbook, slipping it into her bag and turning to leave. But halfway to the door, she stopped, Harry's words from before ringing in her ears. "Professor," she said, turning back to him. He was still stood next to Fawkes, who preened under his master's attention. "I was wondering why you're avoiding Harry," she blurted before she could talk herself out of it.
If Dumbledore was surprised by the words, he didn't show it. "Harry's connection with Voldemort is a risk to us all," he said, voice even and steady, showing no cracks of fear at the mention of You-Know-Who's name. "I hope that by distancing myself from him this year, Voldemort may be less likely to realise this connection. And once he is aware of it…less likely to use it."
Winona frowned. "You think Voldemort would only want to see into Harry's mind if you're nearby?"
"I think it an avoidable incentive."
Winona stared at him a long moment, shrewd and unimpressed. "Well, Harry's already vulnerable. And as far as he's concerned, you're ignoring him for no reason at all. And if he's going to be of any use to you in this war, he'll need to be loyal," she told him defiantly, appealing to the cool, calculating side of him that he didn't like most people to see. "And he can't be loyal to someone who won't even look him in the eye."
She left Dumbledore with that to ponder, heading back through the dark corridors to Gryffindor Tower.
The common room was almost completely empty when she walked in, and Winona did a double take at the sight of Harry, Ron and Hermione crouched by the hearth, speaking avidly to a face in the flames.
At the sound of the portrait hole they flinched, whipping around to hide Sirius from view. "Oh," said Harry, sighing with relief. "It's just you. It's just Winnie," he added for Sirius' benefit as Winona joined them by the fire.
"Sirius," she greeted him, trying to ignore the wince he gave at the sound of his name. He'd never pushed her to call him 'dad', but she knew he wanted her to, deep down. She wasn't sure what was stopping her, she just knew she wasn't ready – yet. "Sorry to interrupt."
"Nonsense," said Sirius. "I was hoping you'd be here, Pup."
"I had a feeling something would happen in the common room tonight," she murmured, ducking down onto her knees beside Harry. Her father's face in the flames was clear and bright as he looked at them, and despite the awfulness of her evening, she had to smile at the sight of him. "What were you saying, before I arrived?"
"Just that this was the only way I could come up with of answering Harry's letter without resorting to a code – and codes are breakable," Sirius told her.
Hermione and Ron both whipped around to stare at Harry accusingly. "You didn't say you'd written to Sirius!" hissed Hermione.
"I forgot," mumbled Harry. Hermione looked less than impressed. "Don't look at me like that, Hermione, there was no way anyone would have got secret information out of it, was there, Sirius?"
"No, it was very good," said Sirius, smiling. "I didn't hear from you, though, Winnie," he added, looking concerned.
Winona's cheeks went pink, remembering that Harry had come into the seventh years' dorm to find her half naked and wrapped around Fred like a frisky Bowtruckle. "Er, I was busy."
"School's going okay?" he asked hopefully. It was hardly the time for chitchat, but Winona got the sense he missed her, and was charmed enough that it didn't really matter.
"Yeah, it's all right," she murmured back, shrugging her shoulders.
"We'd better be quick," interjected Hermione, glancing worriedly at the stairs. "Anyone could come down at any moment."
"Right," said Sirius, nodding once and returning to the matter at hand. "Your scar, Harry."
Winona knew what Harry had written to Sirius about, now – how his scar had hurt when Umbridge had touched him. Her insides recoiled at the memory of his pain, and she ground her teeth as she recalled Umbridge's sick, sadistic leer.
"I know it can't be fun when it hurts, but we don't think its anything to really worry about. It kept aching all last year, didn't it?"
"Yeah, and Dumbledore said it happened whenever Voldemort was feeling a powerful emotion," said Harry, ignoring the way the others all winced. Winona wasn't proud of her aversion to the name, but even she couldn't deny, there was something about the word that set her teeth on edge. Just the sound of it set off alarm bells in her head; as though merely speaking the name aloud would bring hell upon them all. "So maybe he was just, I dunno, really angry or something the night I had that detention."
"Well, now he's back it's bound to hurt more often," added Sirius quietly.
"So you don't think it had anything to do with Umbridge touching me when I was in detention with her?"
"I doubt it," said Sirius, even though something in the back of Winona's head wondered what if…? "I know her by reputation and I'm sure she's no Death Eater-"
"She's foul enough to be one," said Harry darkly. Ron and Hermione nodded vigorously in agreement, while Winona just scowled and imagined all the curses she'd use on the woman if she had a Get Out of Azkaban Free Card.
"Yes, but the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters," Sirius smiled wryly. "I know she's a nasty piece of work, though – you should hear Remus talk about her."
"Moony knows her?" asked Winona, surprised. As a general rule, Remus stayed as far away from the Ministry as possible. They didn't look too kindly on werewolves, even ones as sweet and as harmless as their Moony.
"No, but she drafted a bit of anti-werewolf legislation two years ago that makes it almost impossible for him to get a job," Sirius divulged. Winona scowled, her hatred of the woman growing. And judging by the look on Harry's face, her cousin felt similarly.
"What's she got against werewolves?" Hermione demanded hotly.
"Scared of them, I expect," said Sirius, smiling at her indignation. "Apparently, she loathes part-humans; she campaigned to have merpeople rounded up and tagged last year, too. Imagine wasting your time and energy persecuting merpeople when there are little toe-rags like Kreacher on the loose."
Ron laughed, and even Winona chuckled at the dig. Hermione, on the other hand, looked annoyed by his comment.
"Sirius!" she huffed reproachfully. "Honestly, if you made a bit of an effort with Kreacher, I'm sure he'd respond. After all, you are the only member of his family he's got left, and Professor Dumbledore said-"
"So, what are Umbridge's lessons like?" Sirius interrupted her briskly. Hermione looked affronted, and it took a great deal of control for Winona not to laugh again. "Is she training you all to kill half-breeds?"
"No," said Harry angrily. "She's not letting us use magic at all!"
"All we ever do is read the stupid textbook," muttered Ron.
"You guys too?" Winona asked. Harry nodded glumly. "She's a real piece of work," Winona muttered, flexing her scarred hand. The dittany had healed up most of the wound, but the words were still there, carved into her flesh in her own, slanted handwriting.
"Ah, well, that figures," said Sirius with a hum. "Our information from inside the Ministry is that Fudge doesn't want you trained in combat."
"Trained in combat!" echoed Harry incredulously. "What does he think we're doing here, forming some sort of wizard army?"
"That's exactly what he thinks you're doing, or, rather, that's exactly what he's afraid Dumbledore's doing – forming his own private army, with which he will be able to take on the Ministry of Magic."
"That's the most stupid thing I've ever heard, including all the stuff that Luna Lovegood comes out with," blurted Ron. Winona snorted in vague appreciation of the comment, but otherwise nothing about the moment was funny.
Fudge thought Dumbledore was trying to take his job? That was why they were being treated like pariahs? Dragged through the mud in the press every other day? Because Fudge was afraid to lose his grip on what little powerhe actually had? In the end, what was this but some stupid, high-stakes, pissing contest?
Apparently, Hermione was similarly enraged. "So we're being prevented from learning Defence Against the Dark Arts because Fudge is scared we'll use spells against the Ministry?"
"Fudge thinks Dumbledore will stop at nothing to seize power," Sirius told them quietly. "He's getting more paranoid about Dumbledore by the day. It's a matter of time before he has Dumbledore arrested on some trumped-up charge."
Harry sat up straighter. "D'you know if there's going to be anything about Dumbledore in the Daily Prophet tomorrow? Ron's brother Percy reckons there will be-"
"I don't know," said Sirius, "I haven't seen anyone from the Order all weekend, they're all busy. It's just been Kreacher and me here."
Harry wilted in disappointment. "So you haven't had any news about Hagrid, either?"
Winona froze at the mention. She was fully aware of where Hagrid was, and what he'd been doing. She hadn't thought to tell Harry – which was probably a good thing, because if she did, it'd likely breach the contract of her Vow and kill her.
Sirius' eyes flickered to Winona, who winced back at him guiltily. "Well, he was supposed to be back by now, no one's sure what's happened to him." Then, seeing their stricken faces, he added quickly, "But Dumbledore's not worried, so don't you three get yourselves in a state; I'm sure Hagrid's fine."
"But if he was supposed to be back by now…" said Hermione in a small voice.
"Madame Maxime was with him, we've been in touch with her and she says they got separated on the journey home – but there's nothing to suggest he's hurt or – well, nothing to suggest he's not perfectly OK."
Winona held in a skeptical scoff. If he wanted to soothe their worry, he was doing a pretty shit job of it. Winona hoped they wouldn't realise she had the answers they so desperately wanted – she liked to think herself strong-willed, but who knew what would happen if Harry laid on his puppy-dog stare? Some things even she wasn't immune to.
"Listen, don't go asking too many questions about Hagrid," Sirius pressed on hastily, "it'll just draw even more attention to the fact that he's not back, and I know Dumbledore doesn't want that. Hagrid's tough, he'll be okay."
Harry sighed. Winona felt all the more guilty.
Sensing the group's gloom, Sirius added, "When's your next Hogsmeade weekend, anyway? I was thinking, we got away with the dog disguise at the station, didn't we? I thought I could-"
"No!" cried Harry and Hermione together, loudly enough that Winona glanced warily at the stairs, hoping nobody would hear them shouting and come down to investigate. "Sirius, didn't you see the Daily Prophet?"
"Oh, that," said Sirius with a care-free grin, "they're always guessing where I am, they haven't really got a clue-"
"Yeah, but we think this time they have," said Harry. "Something Malfoy said on the train made us think he knew it was you, and his father was on the platform, Sirius – you know, Lucius Malfoy – so don't come up here, whatever you do. If Malfoy recognises you again-"
"All right, all right, I've got the point," muttered Sirius, a scowl on his face. Winona's expression mirrored his, but for a different reason. "Just an idea, thought you might like to get together."
"I would," insisted Harry, "I just don't want you chucked back in Azkaban!"
Sirius didn't look heartened by their need to keep him safe, instead he just looked irritated. "You're less like your father than I thought," he told Harry cuttingly. "The risk would've been what made it fun for James."
"Sirius," snapped Winona, and her father blinked at the unexpected tone she'd taken. "We want you to stay safe; is that such a bad thing? You wanted me to stay in Grimmauld Place over the summer, didn't you? For my own good?"
Sirius opened his mouth to argue, but Winona powered forwards.
"Well this is exactly the same. We'd love to see you – you know that – but not if it comes with the risk of you getting thrown back in Azkaban, where we'll never get to see you again. James wouldn't want that, either."
Sirius looked chagrined, but Winona remained angry. He didn't get to snipe at Harry, hitting him where he knew it would hurt most, just because he was disappointed they didn't want to risk his freedom – his life – on a quick visit.
Sirius' eyes flickered to Harry, regret in their depths. "Sorry, Harry."
"It's all right," Harry assured him. "We'll see each other at Christmas."
Sirius smiled, but the expression was thin. "I should go; I can hear Kreacher coming down the stairs."
Winona waved as his head disappeared from the flames. But even as the fire crackled on, she couldn't deny she felt cold with him gone.
"You don't think we upset him, do you?" Harry asked her anxiously.
She tried to smile in what she hoped was a comforting way. "He's just struggling, stuck alone in that big house with only Kreacher for company. I'm sure he understands we wish it was different." Harry nodded, but he still looked worried. "It's late," she continued. "We should head up to bed."
The fifth years gathered the homework they had strewn about the floor, and Winona parted from Harry with a squeeze of his shoulder.
The next day dawned, and with it came awful, awful news.
"What in the name of Godric Gryffindor's saggy left ball is a High Inquisitor?" Fred demanded, ripping the newspaper from Lee's slack hands and peering down at the image of a simpering Umbridge on the front page. A nearby first year squeaked at the crass language, but he was too distracted to care. "Holy shit," he pressed on as he scanned the article. "Percy's quoted in here."
"Git," said George without looking up from his oatmeal.
Winona took the paper from Fred's hands before he could tear it with his white-knuckled grip.
"This is an exciting new phase in the Minister's plan to get to grips with what some are calling the falling standards at Hogwarts," she read aloud from the article. "The Inquisitor will have powers to inspect her fellow educators and make sure that they are coming up to scratch. Professor Umbridge has been offered this position in addition to her own teaching post and we are delighted to say that she has accepted."
Winona looked up at the others, finding them all looking some combination of horrified and confused. "Blimey," said Lee distantly. "Umbridge in charge of the whole school? At this rate, I'll be pitching myself off the Astronomy Tower before Christmas."
"There's a quote here from Malfoy's father, too," she added, scowling at the paper as if she might be able to reach into the story and strangle Lucius Malfoy to death. "That fucker."
Lee snorted. "Well, he's your uncle."
The look she sent him was cold enough to freeze a phoenix in its place. "He's my cousin-in-law once-removed, actually," she informed him spitefully. Lee just smirked and so she turned back to the article, content to ignore him. "So, basically, this is just saying Fudge is poking his nose where it doesn't belong, and Umbridge is about to become such a pain in the arse that I might just pitch myself off the Astronomy Tower, too."
"You haven't…Seen…any of this, have you?" Angelina asked in a quiet voice. Winona tried not to roll her eyes at the way she made the innocent word sound dirty.
"Nope," she said, popping the word playfully. "I'm just as much along for the ride as you."
And later that morning, just as much was proven.
They walked into their Charms lesson, Winona pulling Fred by the hand as he playfully dragged his feet. "Come on… We're working on Total-Silencing Charms today – and you know how handy that's going to prove to be," she sang with a mischievous wag of her eyebrows.
But instead of joking back, Fred came to a complete stop, his feet firmly rooted to the floor. Winona felt a wave of panic crash through her insides, and somehow she knew exactly what she'd see when she looked up.
Umbridge was sat in the far corner of the room, a smear of pink ribbons and bows. She had a clipboard out in front of her and a white quill held in a stubby hand. Winona's good mood disappeared, replaced by something sour and sharp. She gripped Fred's hand extra tightly, leading him up towards the very back of the room where they'd be as far from Umbridge as possible.
"I reckon we could slip her a Nosebleed Nougat, if we're sly enough," Fred was murmuring to George, who took his place on the left, Alicia, Angelina and Lee shuffling onto the bench in front of them. "There's no way she'd expect a student to actually be ballsy enough to dose her."
"Don't go too far," Winona whispered to Fred, leaning into his side, brow furrowed in concern. "You know what detentions with her are like. It isn't worth it."
His eyes flickered down to her hand, where the loopy handwriting was etched in scar tissue into her skin. And he scowled. "It absolutely would be worth it," he argued passionately. Winona gave up just as there was a sudden sharp, saccharine clearing of a throat from down below.
They turned to look at the space in the middle of the desks, finding Umbridge stood before them, beady eyes narrowed at where Winona was tucked into Fred's side, his arm slung casually over his shoulder, their hands tangled absentmindedly.
"I hardly think this is an appropriate setting for such public affection, wouldn't you agree?" she asked them in that sickly-sweet voice. Neither Winona nor Fred moved for a long few moments, staring down at her, half wondering if she was kidding. But when she didn't so much as blink, they could tell she was serious.
Fred slowly took his arm off her shoulders, and Winona reluctantly slid a few inches away from him on the bench. "Better?" she asked Umbridge in the same sickly-sweet manner.
If Umbridge caught the edge of mocking, she didn't show it. "Much," she giggled, then wandered back over to her stool in the far corner of the class.
Moments later Flitwick scurried into the room. "Morning class," he greeted them as he made his way up to his usual perch, a podium set above the floor, to make up for what he lacked in height. The class mumbled a distant greeting back, but unlike Umbridge, Flitwick didn't care to make them drone it back to him respectfully. "You'll notice we have a special guest sitting in on our class today," he continued on happily, and it was perhaps the most cheerful anyone had ever sounded when talking about Umbridge. "Let's do our best to make her feel welcome."
No one in the class so much as smiled, but Winona could tell Umbridge didn't care. She smiled, little pointed teeth gleaming in the sunlight streaming in through the windows beside her. "Oh, don't mind me; pretend I'm not even here at all," she giggled, and Winona squeezed her own hands into fists to keep from reaching for her wand – to kill either Umbridge or herself, she was as of yet undecided.
Flitwick smiled at her kindly, and Winona had to marvel at their professor's ability to smile even when the world seemed most ugly. "Well, if you need anything at all, don't hesitate to let me know," he told her graciously, before turning back to the class. "Now, today we're working on Total-Silencing Charms. They work much the same as our regular Silencing Charms, only with a longer lifespan and more powerful range…"
The whole time Flitwick was talking, Umbridge just sat in her corner on her stool – so short her feet didn't even touch the floor – and took endless notes on her clipboard. Winona tried to pay her no attention, focusing on Flitwick before he sent them into pairs to practise the charm.
Winona automatically paired up with Fred, and together they took turns casting the Charm on one another, then lifting it at all. It was as they were practising that they heard a familiar, "Hem-hem," and turned with matching dread to find Umbridge stood below them again. Only this time, her beady eyes were fixed on somebody else.
"Miss…Spinnet, was it?" Umbridge asked. The easy muttering throughout the classroom disappeared, replaced by tense, anxious silence.
But Alicia was brave, and she stared back at Umbridge without so much as a blink. "That's right."
Umbridge smiled, and it was so much like a cat grinning at a mouse that Winona wanted to throw herself between them to protect her friend from the cat's hunger. "I was wondering if you could tell me how this particular class is going, compared to others in the past?"
Alicia seemed surprised by the question, but it was hardly a difficult one to answer. "It's much the same as usual," she told Umbridge clearly, ignoring the way the whole room eagerly listened on. "It's one of our favourite classes to attend."
"I see," simpered Umbridge. "And how would you rate Professor Flitwick as a teacher?"
"He's one of the best," said Alicia passionately, because while he may not have been in Gryffindor, all of them would defend him to their last breath as though he were one of their own. Umbridge was the outsider here, and they were determined to make her know it.
Winona wondered how to tell them that Umbridge didn't actually care.
"I see," Umbridge said again. Fred caught Winona's eye and made a rude gesture. She snorted aloud, then quickly covered it with a cough that nobody bought. Umbridge's glower could have lit a cold fireplace alight before she turned back to Alicia with that pointy grin. "Thank you for your time, Miss Spinnet."
Alicia had no idea how to respond, so she just nodded, and then Umbridge shuffled back over to her stool.
The lesson seemed to drag – which was a shame, because it was always Winona's favourite class – but having Umbridge there was like having a storm cloud hovering over the entire classroom. Nobody could relax and enjoy the lesson, and Winona particularly felt like she were being scrutinised the entire time.
When the bell rang and the torture was finally over, Winona couldn't have left the room any more swiftly. Her friends were all close on her heels. "Blimey, I thought it'd never end," said Angelina, scowling at the classroom over her shoulder as though it offended her.
"At least we have lunch now," said George, lifting his arms above his head with a yawn. "I could really go for an egg sandwich."
"You guys go ahead," Winona said. "I'll catch up with you later."
"Where're you going?" Lee asked nosily.
"I'm writing a love letter to your dad; wanna give me some pointers?" she deadpanned. Lee looked disgusted, and Winona took great pride in making him so uncomfortable. "Yeah. Mind your business."
Lee just made a face and left with the girls, only Fred and George hanging back with her. "Something in me doubts you're actually off to start a letter-based affair with Mr Jordan," said Fred mildly. Winona's grin was mischievous, and he rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Where're you heading?"
"I wanna write to Snuffles," she told him. "I'm hoping he can talk me out of using an Unforgivable on Umbridge."
"Want some company?" he offered.
"Nah. You two go eat lunch. I'll meet up with you sometime before Herbology."
She parted from them with a kiss for Fred and a wave for George, then made her way straight up to the Tower where she could write her letter in peace.
Dad, she wrote on a piece of parchment, then stared at the word for an extra long minute of tense quiet before tearing off the bit she'd inked and tossing it into the fireplace.
She tried again, because for a Gryffindor, she could sometimes be a little bit of a coward.
Snuffles,
Hope you're doing well. The new teacher we've been talking about is getting so bad, I think I'm going to lose it. Somehow she managed to ruin Charms class for me today – Charms class – and I've never wanted to curse someone more.
I need you to remind me that getting revenge isn't worth the time in Azkaban. Something in me doubts they'd let me paint in my cell to pass the time.
I miss you, and the house, and even bloody Kreacher, if you can believe it. School doesn't feel the same this year. Sometimes I think I'd rather just be at home with you; but it's only another few months, then I'll be free for good, and we can work on transforming the house into a place that doesn't strike fear into the hearts of men.
The Boy-Wonder's doing okay. He hates the new teacher just as much as I do, but I'm keeping an eye on him. I doubt he's in danger of getting himself thrown in Azkaban for murder. He always did have more self-control than me.
Stay safe, stay hidden; for both of us.
All my love,
Pup
She signed it with a flourish, then sealed it shut and took a walk to the owlery to send it. She picked a nondescript school owl, then watched as it disappeared into a tiny speck on the horizon. She just had to get through this one year with Umbridge. One single year.
How hard could it really be?
A/N: Okay so I am having the DAY from HELL, and so I can't write very well, and so I decided to do some edits instead, and since this is all done, I figured I might as well post it. Thanks so much for all your support; I hope you're enjoying the story.
Review of the week: paudeleon – thanks for your review and kind words. I kinda want a Fred in my life, too. Hope you enjoyed! xx
