Winona was so distracted by her own hatred for Umbridge, that up until she found out from a fuming Angelina, she somehow missed the fact that Harry had earned himself another week's worth of detention from the High Inquisitor.

Harry yelped when she grabbed him by the ear at lunchtime on Wednesday, hauling him up and across the Great Hall. People stopped talking and stared, but when they received only Winona's fearsome glare in response, they quickly turned back to whatever they were doing.

"Winnie – what – ouch, Win-" Harry was muttered as she dragged him out to the entrance hall, not letting him go until they were out of earshot of the rest of the student body.

"What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?" she demanded. "Getting another week's detention with Umbridge? Why, Harry? Didn't you learn your lesson enough during the first week? To punctuate her point she thrust her scarred hand into his face. Harry winced at the sight of it.

"I can't help it," he argued stubbornly. "It's like I can't say anything without her seeing it as a punishable offence-"

"Then don't say anything," she hissed. Harry scowled at her, looking most unhappy, and Winona forced herself to sigh, the tension slowly leaving her body as she exhaled – even if her heart continued to race. "I don't mean to shout – but Harry, why didn't you tell me? I had to find out from Angelina."

Harry shrugged. "I knew you'd react like this," he mumbled. She could tell he felt at least a little bad about it. "Besides, I didn't wanna worry you."

Winona took a deep, steadying breath, gripping her cousin by the shoulders and ducking her head to catch his eye. "You have to be careful, Harry. You're already a target. Don't go giving her any more reasons to be hard on you."

Harry glanced down at his own hand, which Winona saw now was wrapped in a small scarf in lieu of a bandage. "Yeah," he whispered, the look in his eyes haunted. "I know."

Sighing again, this time in exhaustion, Winona threw an arm over her cousin's shoulders and pulled him into her side. "Just play it smart," she said as she led the way back into the Great Hall. "Don't do anything I would do."

"I think the saying is 'don't do anything I wouldn't do'."

"I know what I said," she sniffed, then bumped her hip against his. "Fred gave me some Essence of Dittany for my hand last week. It healed it pretty quickly."

"Hermione's been helping me," Harry assured her. "I'm doing fine."

"You keep going to those detentions, it's only going to get worse," she warned him.

Harry set his jaw. "I can take it."

When she looked at him now, it was sadly. "I know," she said, so soft he nearly missed it as they made their way into the Hall, "but I just wish you didn't have to."

They parted at the Gryffindor table, where Winona took a seat between the twins while Harry continued further down the aisle to where Ron and Hermione were eating lunch with Neville and Ginny.

"So, any tips on how to get away with murder?" she asked her friends casually, spooning apple pie onto her plate. It was an indulgent sort of a day – pie for lunch was about the only thing she could think of that might make her feel even infinitesimally better.

"Use an icicle as a weapon," said Lee around a mouthful of ham. "It'll melt and then there's nothing linking you to the murder."

"You should wear a larger shoe size," said Alicia eagerly. "The shoe size is how they always get them on those crime shows my dad watches. Oh, and wear a different perfume. I once saw an episode where that was how the whole case was solved."

"Sorry, who are we murdering?" asked Angelina in confusion.

"I think the better question is, what in Merlin's name is a crime show?" asked Fred, frowning at the term he didn't understand.

"Umbridge, obviously," Winona told Angelina before turning to Fred. "It's a form of Muggle entertainment, like a play you can watch from home, all about police officers solving crimes."

"Huh," said Fred, stirring his coffee as he considered it.

"My favourite's Law & Order," said George, and everyone turned to stare at him in surprise. "It was an assignment for Muggle studies," he explained, spooning fruit salad onto his plate. "I'm allowed to have hobbies," he added defensively when they wouldn't stop staring.

"Why're we killing Umbridge today?" Angelina asked, looking away from George.

"No specific reason," Winona said. "I just hate her more than I've ever hated anyone in my life and want her to die a terrible, horrible, painful death."

"That's a good enough reason for me," said Fred, slinging an arm over her shoulders, a cheesy grin on his lips despite the violence of her words. Not exactly the kind of thing to make someone smile; but Fred had never just been anyone. "I'll be your partner in crime. Hey, we should get matching shirts."

"If we intend to get away with the crime, announcing our partnership on tee-shirts probably isn't the way to go," she said, smiling up at him fondly.

Fred nodded solemnly. "Good point."

Days passed, and Winona fell into a rhythm. Homework was piling up like crazy, and she spent more time than ever before working on it. Her NEWTs weren't particularly important to her, but if she was going to sit for them, she figured the least she could do was put in a little effort in. Otherwise why stay at Hogwarts at all?

She was in the library, legs slung over Fred's lap as she halfheartedly read over a passage on the process of making a portkey, when the vision hit her like a freight train.

She wasn't sure how long it took her to come out of it, but it couldn't have been long, because Fred was still reading his Herbology textbook with that little crease between his brows that only appeared when he was concentrating really hard. He hadn't even noticed she'd slipped away.

Glancing down at her sketchbook, Winona found a rough, graphite sketch of Harry on the page. He was grinning widely – possibly the happiest she'd ever seen him look – and behind him stood Ron and Hermione, all of them cheerful in a way the school seemed to have forgotten how to be, what with Umbridge hovering over their shoulders and Cedric's death still somewhat fresh in their minds.

"I've gotta go," Winona said to Fred, who glanced up from his textbook, twirling his quill between nimble fingers.

"Everything all right?"

"Gotta find Harry," she told him, shutting her book with a muted thud and shoving it deep into her satchel. "See you later?"

"Got Quidditch practise this afternoon."

Winona was quick to nod. "I'll meet you down at the pitch after lunch."

She parted from him with a kiss on the cheek, then left to find her cousin. Harry wasn't difficult to find. He was just as swamped with homework – what with it being his OWL year and all – so after she couldn't see him anywhere in the library, she went down to the courtyard, where plenty of students were taking advantage of the nice weather to study in the sunshine.

Harry was sat with Ron and Hermione under the shade of a tree. Winona watched them a moment, considering her options carefully, before finally approaching them. Harry looked up from the essay he was writing as she appeared above him.

"Hey Winnie," said Hermione in distant greeting.

"You got a distraction for us in that bag of yours?" Ron asked hopefully. "I'd kill for a good distraction right about now."

"Ron, you've misspelled 'Acromantula'," said Hermione, leaning over his shoulder to glance at the title of his essay.

Ron didn't look impressed. "See what I mean?"

"Actually, can I borrow Harry?" she asked.

Harry didn't hesitate to leap to his feet, just as eager for a distraction, and Winona heard Ron mutter, "Lucky bastard," under his breath, followed by a thump as Hermione smacked him for it.

"What's wrong?" he asked as they began to make their way across the courtyard, towards the lawn where even more students were sprawled in the grass, soaking up the last of the year's warmth.

"Why does something have to be wrong?" she wondered.

Harry hesitated. "I mean, I suppose it doesn't have to – but, historically speaking…"

Winona rolled her eyes before winding her arm through his and beginning to drag him in the general direction of Hagrid's Hut, where she knew they weren't likely to be overheard. "I had a vision," she began in undertone, pulling free her sketchbook and cracking it open to her prediction.

Harry stared down at the hastily sketched picture of himself, grinning from ear to ear. "Sometime soon, I'm going to be…happy?" he asked. "Well, that's certainly a nice change of pace."

"It's not so much about what's on the page," she explained. "Lately, my visions have been less about what I draw and more about what I see. Trelawney said something about my mind being able to process what it's Seeing as I grow older… Anyway, that's besides the point."

"Which is?"

"You're going to teach a Defence Against the Dark Arts class," she said bluntly. Harry's eyes went wide, and Winona rolled her own. "Are you really so surprised I know?"

Harry exhaled in a rush, turning his eyes to the bottom of the hill where Hagrid's Hut lay, dark and undisturbed. Its owner wasn't home, and hadn't been in a long while. Winona felt the half-giant's absence suddenly, like a candle missing when there had always been one lit. She wasn't terribly close with Hagrid, but Harry cared about him a lot. She wished she could tell Harry what Hagrid was really doing – where he was and who he was with – but Dumbledore's gag order remained in full effect.

"Hermione brought up the idea a few days ago," Harry confessed quietly, bringing her from her thoughts of Hagrid. "I've been thinking about it…but I wasn't sure… Well, I guess this settles it."

"What settles it?" she asked.

"Your vision."

"Harry, my visions aren't set in stone," she reminded him. "I probably had this vision because for a brief few moments, you'd decided to teach this class. It's only one possible future. You still have every right – every ability – to say no and change the future."

Harry sighed again, and she found he didn't look any less burdened than he had before. "What did you See, exactly?"

"I saw you teaching the class in a big, cavernous room, to a bunch of students from all different Houses. I saw you smiling – you were really happy," she told him warmly, letting him know exactly how much she enjoyed Seeing him that way.

"Do you think it's a good idea?" Harry wondered, still staring down the hill at Hagrid's Hut.

Winona stared at his profile, lingering on his pale skin and the purple bags under his eyes. "What is the idea, exactly?" she asked. He glanced back to her in surprise, and she laughed quietly. "I got a glimpse at a sliver of a possible future. I didn't suddenly get the answers to all my questions."

"Hermione came up with the idea," he began, crossing his arms over his chest and staring off over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest. "With everything that's happening at the moment, with the Death Eaters and Voldemort, she thinks we should be teaching ourselves defence techniques – since Umbridge isn't doing it for us."

"And she thinks you should be the one to lead the class?"

Harry's cheeks went splotchy with colour. "I know it's stupid-"

"No it isn't," she argued immediately. "It's a brilliant idea. You've fought more than all of us combined. If anyone can prepare us for what's out there – it's you."

"But, I mean, it was always luck, or circumstance. I'm not actually some expert-"

"No, you're not," she agreed. "But you're experienced. There's a difference. And right now I think what we need is someone with experience."

Harry still wasn't convinced. "But, I mean, who'd wanna learn from me? I'm just some crackpot kid with a desperate need for attention," he said bitterly. Winona reached out, slapping him lightly upside the head in reprimand.

"You are not," she said sternly.

"Well, they all think I am-"

"So what?" she countered. "So maybe a bunch of people think you're a mental attention-seeker; but I can think of at least eight people off the top of my head who'd be happy to sign up."

"I'm not going to let you convince your friends to join out of pity-"

"It wouldn't be out of pity, you stubborn prat," she argued. "Not everything's about you, y'know?"

At that, Harry looked chastised. It was nearly enough to make her laugh.

"They'd join because they're not going to be in school forever. Sooner or later we all have to go out into the real world, and the horrors it holds. If Umbridge won't teach us how to defend ourselves, then we might as well learn from someone who's faced Voldemort," she told him, a rare passion igniting in her voice. Harry seemed surprised she hadn't edged around the damned name. "Fear of the name…something or other, right? I'm not so good with the words. That's Hermione's gig."

Her cousin smiled, and Winona counted it was a win.

"You must have decided to do it, even if it was just for a moment," she continued softly. "Otherwise I wouldn't have been able to see it."

"I don't know if I…" Harry trailed off. Clearly the trouble with words was hereditary through the Potter gene. He huffed, frustrated, and Winona nudged him gently. The silent encouragement worked, and Harry seemed to find some sense in his thoughts. "If I agree to do it, if I own up to knowing about this stuff; being good at this stuff, is that…I dunno…arrogant of me?"

Winona's instinct was to laugh, but she didn't want to hurt his feelings. "Harry, you don't have an arrogant bone in your body."

"I can think of a few people who'd disagree," he muttered, toeing at a stone on the ground.

"Are those people's opinions actually worth anything to you?"

That made him pause. "Well, I s'pose not…" he said, blinking in surprise at the realisation.

"Agreeing to do this isn't arrogant, Harry," she told him fervently. "It's kind."

He looked unsure of that, staring at her with a furrowed brow, trying to understand where she was coming from. "What do you mean?"

"You'd be facing the horrors of your past just so that your friends might stand a better chance should they ever find themselves in danger. That's brave, and it's selfless, and it's kind."

Harry looked away again, taking a moment to consider it. "You were wrong," he finally murmured, still staring down at Hagrid's empty cabin.

Winona's eyebrows shot upwards. "Was I?"

But instead of arguing, Harry surprised her by turning to her with a tiny, barely-there smile, green eyes lit like the fire beneath a bubbling cauldron. "You are pretty good with the words."

This time she let herself laugh, ruffling her cousin's hair affectionately. "Whatever you decide, I'll support you," she promised him. "But let me just say this; don't let fear dictate your choice. Do what you feel is right, and damn everything else."

Harry nodded slowly. "If I decide to do it, you'll be with me?"

"Couldn't get rid of me if you tried, Boy-Wonder," she vowed. "Come on, your essay for Professor Grubbly-Plank isn't going to write itself."

Given her vision and conversation with Harry, Winona was unsurprised when Ron approached she and the twins one evening while they sat in the corner of the common room. She was halfheartedly working on her Herbology essay while the twins were writing back to the broker they were using to look for a premises for the shop. There was a promising one in Diagon Alley they'd just heard about, but the process of contacting the owner and buying it from him was a lengthy one – particularly when they were stuck at Hogwarts and couldn't meet in person.

"Winnie?" said Ron, tentative and unsure. Winona looked up from her essay, an eyebrow arched. Ron looked nervous, and Fred noticed it too.

"You're not going to ask Winnie on a date, are you?" Fred asked, loud and obnoxious so that everyone within earshot overheard. Ron's ears went bright red, and he glowered at Fred who just grinned back with ease. "I'm afraid she's spoken for, Ron. I will, however, duel you for her."

"Would you shut up?" Ron hissed, embarrassed by the attention they were garnering.

"You'll duel him for me?" Winona sniffed. "Am I worth so little to you?"

"It's okay, love, I know all his weakness," Fred assured her dramatically. Lavender and Parvati were sat nearby, and they giggled loudly at Ron's humiliation.

"You know what, never mind," snarled Ron, turning on his heel to storm off.

Winona caught his wrist before he could leave. "No, stay," she said, "ignore him. You wanted to ask me something?"

Ron seemed to weigh the pros and cons of continuing down this path, before glancing across the room at Hermione, who made a hardly subtle shooing motion with her hand. With a deep sigh, Ron turned back to them warily.

"We're organising the meeting for Harry's thing," he told her in an undertone that nobody would overhear. "First weekend of October, down at the Hog's Head. We wanted to know if you were in?"

Winona opened her mouth to answer, but George beat her to the punch. "Have you two developed some sort of secret code?" he wondered. "What's Harry's thing, and why do you want to go look at it down at the Hog's Head?"

Winona slapped him hard upside the head, and George glared as he rubbed the sore spot. "We'll be there," Winona promised Ron. "What time?"

"Around lunch?"

She nodded. "Want me to put my own feelers out? I can get a few of our friends on board, as well as the seventh years in the other Houses."

"Sure, but no-"

"Slytherins," she finished briskly. "I know the drill."

Ron nodded, looking grateful. "Thanks."

She waved him off, and with a final, distrustful glance at his brothers, Ron hurried back across the common room to Hermione. Winona turned to the twins, who were staring at her with varying degrees of confusion.

"And what, pray tell, was that all about?" George asked curiously.

Winona pushed aside her essay, turning her full attention to the two of them. "We've decided Umbridge is an incompetent hag, so Harry's teaching a defence class in secret so that we're all up to scratch when everything inevitably goes to shit and we have Death Eaters showing up to kill us all."

Neither Fred nor George seemed to know how to respond to that. They stared at her a moment, and she could tell they were wondering whether this was a joke or not. When she didn't smile, they realised she was serious.

"A defence class?" asked Fred, dropping his quill and leaning against the back of his chair.

"An illegal defence class," Winona told him with a wag of her eyebrows, knowing it would sway him.

"Okay," he said simply. "I'm sold."

And they were; the following weekend was the first Hogsmeade visit of the year, and the three of them made their way down to the village, where they met up with Lee outside Zonko's. "Just five minutes," said George as he led the way into the joke shop.

Winona knew it wasn't only going to be five minutes, but she also knew better than to argue. She stood outside the store, leant under the awning as she sketched in her book, drawing a Niffler from memory.

Harry, Ron and Hermione wandered past, and Harry muttered something to his friends before making his way towards her. She greeted him with a smile.

"You're coming to the meeting?" he asked in an undertone.

"We'll be there," she confirmed, glancing back into the store where Fred and George were haggling for some fireworks with the wizard behind the counter. "Lee too, and the girls when they get themselves down here. They're all really keen to hear you out."

Harry looked unsure, like he didn't quite believe her, and she frowned at him.

"Remember what I said, Harry," she told him gently. "This isn't really about you. They want to learn; they have to learn. They have to be ready."

The words were more foreboding than she'd meant them to be, but she couldn't deny they were true. The things she knew to be coming… She wanted to friends to have all the skills they needed to survive the coming war. Because that was exactly what it was; a war.

"Harry?" called Hermione from where she was stood with Ron a few metres away.

Harry waved a hand in acknowledgement. "See you there?" he asked Winona quickly.

"Wouldn't miss it."

Harry wandered off towards the Hog's Head with Ron and Hermione, and Winona went back to her lazy sketching, waiting for Lee and the twins to reappear. Finally they did, each hauling paper bags bursting at the seams with their purchases.

"Right, is it time?" Fred wondered, struggling to glance down at his watch from around his bulging bag.

Winona led the way to the Hog's Head. It quickly became apparent that they weren't the only people on their way to Harry's meeting. She saw Angelina, Katie and Alicia up ahead and called out to them so they could walk together. She spotted a healthy assortment of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs among the growing crowd. There were at least twenty people all heading for the Hog's Head. Not even Winona had expected so many people to be interested.

The last time she'd been at the Hog's Head, it had been to shag Jeremiah for the first time. The dingy bar was just as unpleasant now as it had been the two years before. The scent of dust and grime and moonshine swirled around her, and for a moment she remembered fleeting pain and skin against skin, the sharp taste of Jeremiah on her tongue. A shudder of disgust shot down her spine, but before she could lose herself to the dark memories, a warm hand pressed to the small of her back.

Fred guided her into the pub, looking cheerful and happy, oblivious to the dark path her thoughts had taken. She liked that, though. She didn't want him to share her misery. Not now, not ever.

"Hi," her boyfriend said to the man behind the bar. "Could we have…twenty-six butterbeers, please?"

Instead of looking pleased for the business, the bartender only seemed annoyed as he leant beneath the bar to produce the requested butterbeer.

"Cheers," Fred grinned, handing off his bulging bag to George and beginning to pass out the bottles. "Cough up, everyone, I haven't got enough gold for all of these." Winona began to dig in her pocket, only for Fred to grab her by the wrist. "Don't be ridiculous, love," he said warmly. "I've got yours."

Warmth flickered to life in her heart and began to spread out throughout her body. She smiled up at him, pushing up onto her toes to kiss him swiftly before dropping back to the flats of her feet. It was such a drastic change, being here with Fred now as opposed to that day with Jeremiah back in fifth year.

The students gathered around them muttered unhappily, but nobody argued as they dug out the Sickles for their drinks. They began to take seats around the dingy pub, and Winona quickly snagged the group of chairs closest to Harry, slouching comfortably in the seat between Fred and George and sipping her butterbeer.

Once everyone was sat down, chatter slowly began to die out, until eventually the room was silent but for the two hooded figures in the corner muttering something in a language Winona didn't recognise. Harry looked about as terrified as a deer in the headlights, and Winona smiled at him to try and soothe his nerves, but it didn't work. He looked about ready to throw up.

"Er," said Hermione awkwardly. It surprised Winona that she didn't have a speech already prepared. It seemed like the sort of thing she'd do. "Well – er – hi."

Everyone's eyes flickered to her, and her cheeks went pink under their attention.

"Well … erm … well, you know why you're here. Erm … well, Harry here had the idea – I mean I had the idea – that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defence Against the Dark Arts –and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us – because nobody could call that Defence Against the Dark Arts-"

"Hear, hear," cried Goldstein from Ravenclaw, holding up his butterbeer in cheers. A few people copied him, and Hermione looked heartened.

"Well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands," she finished, a sure nod punctuating statement. "And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just in theory, but doing the real spells-"

"You want to pass your Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL too, though, I bet?" Michael Corner spoke up, making it sound as if it were some damnable offence. Winona glared at him but he didn't seem to notice.

"Of course I do," said Hermione without so much as a blink. "But more than that, I want to be properly trained in defence because … because…" she took a deep breath and said in a rush, like the words seared her tongue as they touched it, "because Lord Voldemort is back."

Several people yelped, others shuddered, and someone even shrieked, spilling butterbeer down her top. Winona slouched further in her seat and once she met Harry's eyes, she rolled her own. It wasn't quite enough to make him smile, but he didn't look quite so stricken as he had a moment ago.

Everyone was staring at Harry eagerly, practically on the edge of their seats waiting to hear more. Winona wondered if this had been the draw for them; to hear Harry's story from his own mouth. It was stupid and petty of them, but Winona didn't want to disrupt the flow by hexing anyone without reason.

"Well…that's the plan, anyway," Hermione continued as if nobody had reacted. "If you want to join us, we need to decide how we're going to-"

"Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?" demanded a kid from the back of the group, awfully aggressive for a Hufflepuff.

Hermione straightened her spine. "Well, Dumbledore believes it-"

"You mean, Dumbledore believes him," said the blond boy, nodding at Harry, confrontation in his eyes.

"Who are you?" demanded Ron.

"Zacharias Smith," said the boy, "and I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes him say You-Know-Who's back."

"Look," said Hermione stiffly, "that's really not what this meeting was supposed to be about-"

"It's okay, Hermione," said Harry, taking Winona by surprise. He sounded calmer than she'd expected, and she wondered how long it would last. Because it surely wouldn't be very long.

"What makes me say You-Know-Who's back?" he repeated, looking Smith boldly in the eye. "I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you won't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."

Nobody moved, nobody even so much as breathed, all staring at Harry, eager to hear the details of that night. Winona thought it was sick, but she didn't want to undermine Harry by defending him. He was a big boy, and he could defend himself. Or at least, she'd give him the chance to do so before swooping in like the over-protective mama-bear people claimed her to be.

"All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who," said Smith dismissively, "and that you brought Diggory's body back to Hogwarts. He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we'd all like to know-"

"If you've come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can't help you," Harry snapped, and Winona took a deep sip of butterbeer to hide her growing smirk. "I don't want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that's what you're here for, you might as well clear out."

Harry looked genuinely frustrated now – not that Winona blamed him in the slightest – and the room was silent as everyone waited to see if anyone would get up to leave. But nobody moved. Everyone stayed exactly where they were, staring at her cousin expectantly. Like he was their leader.

"So," said Hermione bracingly, "like I was saying … if you want to learn some defence, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet and where we're going to-"

"Is it true," interjected an unfamiliar girl, "that you can produce a Patronus?"

People began to mutter amongst themselves, either skeptical or interested, and Harry sat up straighter. "Yeah," he said defensively, looking ready to fight anyone who called him a liar.

"A corporeal Patronus?"

Harry blinked. "Er – you don't know Madam Bones, do you?"

"She's my auntie," the girl smiled. "I'm Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So – is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?"

Harry hesitated only a moment, and Winona watched him closely. She knew the answer, of course, but she wasn't sure Harry felt comfortable giving it. Dementors were one of his worst fears, and the only reason he'd learned how to cast a Patronus at all was because of that fear. But Harry was – unsurprisingly – brave, and he tilted his chin up as he said, "Yes."

"Blimey, Harry!" said Lee from where he sat on Fred's right. He sounded deeply impressed, and when Winona smirked this time, it was with pride. "I never knew that!"

"Mum told Ron not to spread it around," added Fred, grinning at Harry. "She said you got enough attention as it was."

"She's not wrong," mumbled Harry, bitter, but a couple of people still laughed.

"And did you kill a Basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?" demanded Terry Boot. "That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year…"

"Er – yeah, I did, yeah," said Harry.

Everyone looked properly impressed now, and Winona felt stupidly like a proud parent, staring at her cousin, his cheeks pink from all the attention. Clearly he hadn't expected this to turn into a recounting of his greatest triumphs. But Winona knew that reminding everyone of exactly how experienced Harry was was exactly the way to convince them he was the right man for the job.

"And in our first year," said Neville eagerly, "he saved that Philosopher's Stone from You-Know-Who."

"And that's not to mention," added Cho, smiling at Harry sweetly, "all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year – getting past dragons and merpeople and Acromantula and things…"

Harry looked like he was trying not to squirm, and Winona pressed her face into Fred's shoulder for a moment, just to hide her giggles. Fred slung his arm over her shoulder, but his attention was on Harry. Everyone's was.

"Look," her cousin said, and everyone fell silent at once, "I … I don't want to sound like I'm trying to be modest or anything, but … I had a lot of help with all that stuff."

"Not with the dragon, you didn't," said Michael Corner at once. "That was a seriously cool bit of flying…"

"Yeah, well-"

"And nobody helped you get rid of those dementors this summer," added Susan Bones.

"No," said Harry, taking a deep breath, "no, okay, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I'm trying to make is-"

"Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?" demanded Smith.

Winona turned on him, but Ron spoke up before she got the chance to hex anyone.

"Here's an idea," he said loudly, "why don't you shut your mouth?"

But Smith wasn't done being a prat. "Well, we've all turned up to learn from him and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it."

Fred whirled around on him. "That's not what he said," he snarled, and Winona felt a bubble of love appear in her chest.

"Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?" asked George, pulling a long, metal instrument of some sort from one of the Zonko's bags he had pushed underneath the legs of his chair.

"Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this," finished Fred. Winona smirked at Smith smugly from where she sat in between the seething twins, and the guy looked just a tad more pale as his eyes flickered to the pointy thing in George's hand.

"Yes, well," said Hermione hastily, eager to prevent a brawl from breaking out, "the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?"

There was a murmur of general agreement. Smith said nothing, but Winona didn't particularly care. She reached for Fred's hand, dangling over her shoulder. She gripped it and squeezed three times. He squeezed back, eyes still on Harry but a smile flickering at his pale lips.

"Right," said Hermione with a sigh of relief. "Well, then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don't think there's any point in meeting less than once a week-"

"Hang on," Angelina spoke up from where she was sat a few rows back between Katie and Alicia, "we need to make sure this doesn't clash with our Quidditch practice."

"No," agreed Cho, "nor with ours."

"Nor ours," added Smith.

"I'm sure we can find a night that suits everyone,' said Hermione, just a tad impatient, "but you know, this is rather important, we're talking about learning to defend ourselves against V-Voldemort's Death Eaters-"

"Well said!" cried Ernie Macmillan. "Personally, I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we'll do this year, even with our OWLs coming up! I, personally, am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher on us at this critical period. Obviously, they are in denial about the return of You-Know-Who, but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells-"

"We think the reason Umbridge doesn't want us trained in Defence Against the Dark Arts," interjected Hermione, "is that she's got some … some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private army. She thinks he'd mobilise us against the Ministry."

Nobody had any idea what to say to that, stunned by the news.

"Well, that makes sense," came a dreamy voice. Winona looked over at Luna, who was sat beside Ginny, the rim of her butterbeer bottle pressed to the dimple in her chin. "After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army."

"Here we go," Winona murmured, collapsing against Fred's side and casting an exasperated look at George. Luna and Hermione bickered for a few minutes, everyone's heads shifting between the two like they were at a tennis match.

Finally – mercifully – Ginny broke their time-wasting bickering.

"Hem, hem," she coughed in a perfect imitation of Umbridge. Everyone fell silent, thinking for one terrifying moment that the demon herself had found them, and that this was all over before it could even begin. But people quickly realised it was just Ginny, and a few even laughed. "Weren't we trying to decide how often we're going to meet and have defence lessons?"

"Yes," said Hermione with a nod, "yes, we were. You're right, Ginny."

"Well, once a week sounds cool," chirped Lee eagerly.

Angelina sat forwards. "As long as-"

"Yes, yes, we know about the Quidditch," tutted Hermione. "Well, the other thing to decide is where we're going to meet…" To that, nobody had an answer. "Winnie," said Hermione, and Winona looked up with wide eyes as the attention flew to her. "Where were we in that vision you had the other week? That should tell us the location."

"You had a vision about this?" demanded Smith, as though it were a damnable offence.

Winona happily ignored him. "I didn't recognise the room," she told Hermione with a shrug. "I'd know it if I saw it again, though."

"We could use the library?" suggested Katie.

Harry shook his head. "I can't see Madam Pince being too chuffed with us doing jinxes in the library."

"Maybe an unused classroom?"

"Yeah," said Ron, "McGonagall might let us have hers. She did when Harry was practising for the Triwizard."

"Right, well, we'll try to find somewhere," said Hermione with an air of dismissal. "We'll send a message round to everybody when we've got a time and a place for the first meeting."

She rummaged in her bag and produced parchment and a quill.

"I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here. But I also think that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we're doing. So if you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Umbridge or anybody else what we're up to."

Fred didn't so much as hesitate. He snatched the parchment and quill from her hand and cheerfully scribbled down his signature. He passed it to Winona, who did the same, shooting Harry a smile as she did, trying to tell him without words how well she thought this had gone. She passed it on to George, who wrote his name before handing it to Smith, who Winona noticed refused to take it.

"Er …" he murmured unsurely, "well … I'm sure Ernie will tell me when the meeting is."

"I – well, we're prefects," Ernie himself said. "And if this list was found … well, I mean to say … you said yourself, if Umbridge finds out-"

"You just said this group was the most important thing you'd do this year," Harry reminded him.

"I – yes, I do believe that, it's just-"

"Ernie, do you really think I'd leave that list just lying around?" Hermione demanded, sounding offended by the insinuation.

"No, of course not," Ernie hurried to say. "I – yes, of course I'll sign."

Nobody else raised any objections to signing, and Winona felt pride warm her body as the parchment was handed back to Hermione, who tucked it back into her bag with a nod.

"Well, time's ticking on," said Fred briskly, standing to his feet. "The four of us have got some items of a sensitive nature to go purchase, we'll be seeing you all later."

Before leaving with her friends, Winona shuffled closer to Harry, smiling at him gently. "You did good, Cuz," she told him warmly.

Harry looked relieved that it was over, and also distracted. Winona followed his stare, glancing over her shoulder to find Cho Chang stood only a few metres away, shyly fiddling with the strap of her bag. A smirk bloomed on Winona's face and she pressed her lips together to try to smother it.

"See you later, Boy-Wonder," she told her cousin fondly.

"Yeah, sure," said Harry, eyes still glued to Cho, distracted.

Winona grinned, clapping him on the shoulder before waving at Ron and Hermione and grabbing Fred's outstretched hand, letting him drag her eagerly out of the Hog's Head. It was nice to know her memories of the Hog's Head were no longer only bad ones; and she had so many people to thank for it.

"What's the freaky smile for?" George asked her as they made their way through the village in the general direction of Honeydukes.

The smile fell from her face. "Freaky?"

"Well, usually when you smile like that, somebody's about to embarrass themselves terribly."

Winona rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, George, I think that time you threw up into your cauldron in Potions class was a one-time thing."

George's ears went red as both Fred and Lee snickered with laughter. "You swore to never bring that up again," George hissed.

"That's what you get for calling my smile freaky," she sniped. "I'm beautiful and enchanting at all times and I'll hex anyone who says otherwise," she added, tipping her nose up into the sky in playful pride.

"Bloody right," agreed Fred, smacking a loud kiss to her cheek.

George rolled his eyes, and Winona caved, throwing him a bone. "I'm grinning because my baby cousin has a crush," she told him. The twins stood straighter, wicked amusement in their eyes, while Lee looked more interested in the display in the window at Honeydukes, practically salivating over their colourful selection of Jelly Slugs.

"Who?" Fred asked eagerly.

Winona mimed zipping her lips shut. "A cousin never tells."

"That's not a thing," argued George. "Don't pretend that's a thing. C'mon, tell us!"

"No. You'll only tease him."

"Winnie's right, it's Harry's business," said Fred in a haughty sort of voice that told Winona it was anything but sincere. "She has every right not to tell you. Me, on the other hand…" he turned his puppy-dog eyes onto her, and she couldn't help but laugh.

"No," she said again, bumping his hip with hers as she pushed her way into the sweets shop. She made a beeline for the Sugar Quills display, swiping up a generous hoard of all her favourite flavours and ignoring the twins' matching pouts.

"It's not Granger, is it?" George asked when it became clear she had no intention of telling them.

Winona snorted. "Of course not, you idiot," she said fondly, casually perusing the Sugared Butterfly Wings and halfheartedly counting the coins she had stuffed in her pocket. Her father had given her an unexpected pile of gold a few nights before they'd made their way to King's Cross for the start of term.

"For spending money in Hogsmeade," he'd told her, handing over a none-too-light sack of Galleons.

"What? No, I'm fine, I don't need any money," she'd argued, trying to hand it back.

"Consider it over a decade's worth of allowances," he'd argued back.

"Sirius-"

"Pup, please," he'd begged her. She'd folded, reluctantly taking the sack from him, feeling oddly dirty until he'd smiled, all wickedly canine. "Besides, I found the gold in my dear old mum's sock draw. So really, it's not even my money at all."

She'd laughed, but Sirius became unusually sombre.

"You know, Win, that the Black fortune isn't at all…insignificant," he'd told her slowly.

She'd blinked in surprise. "The Black fortune?"

He'd sat her down, then, and explained the Black family's wealth. She'd known he was loaded, but… Winona stared silently as he told her she was the sole heir to the entire fortune, and that – basically – she never had to worry about money again.

The twins knew she had money now, too, but she hadn't told them exactly how much. She wasn't so much keeping it secret as she was just…avoiding telling them. If they asked her outright, of course she wouldn't lie, but she knew they could get sensitive about money – all of the Weasleys did, having grown up with as little as they had. She felt curiously guilty, and she said nothing to Fred because some part of her was afraid of what he might think.

They'd both grown up poor, and thus they'd been equals. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel…inadequate in any way, because of the money she'd suddenly come into.

She was thinking all this as she stared at the jars of Sugared Butterfly Wings, lost in thought – and without warning, a vision hit her. The current of time surged around her – soon, soon, soon, it seemed to sing – and there were flashes of beige, like parchment under firelight.

She was brought back to the present by the familiar weight of Fred's fingertips on her hips. She blinked, glancing down at her own hands.

She'd dropped her small hoard of Sugar Quills in her haze, and they now littered the floor around her feet. In her hands was her sketchbook and a stick of broken charcoal, and on the page of her book lay a clearly written proclamation.

EDUCATIONAL DECREE it read in perfect a typewriter's font. The whole thing was a nightmare, but one passage in particular caught her eye.

No student organisation, society, team, group or club may exist

without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor.

Any student found to have formed, or to belong to, an organisation,

society, team, group or club that has not been approved by

the High Inquisitor will be expelled.

"She knows," she said to Fred, who was staring down at the drawing over her shoulder, fingers tight on her hips. "How could she already know?"

There was a mumbling sound from nearby, and Winona glanced over her shoulder to find half the shop whispering behind their hands as they stared at her like she were an exhibit in a zoo. Winona shut her sketchbook with a snap and bent to retrieve the Sugar Quills she'd dropped.

"Let's pay for these and get out of here," she muttered to the twins who quickly agreed, stepping up to the counter to buy their sweets. The aging witch behind the counter stared at Winona suspiciously as she paid, as though she expected her to somehow use her Sight to steal from the shop. Winona made a face at the woman and stepped out into the village with a scowl on her lips.

That evening, Winona found Harry sitting in the far corner of the common room with his friends, and she pulled up a chair, interjecting herself into their mumbled conversation. They looked up in surprise that turned to confusion when they saw who it was.

"Winnie?" asked Harry, looking wary, so clearly her expression spoke volumes.

"She knows."

The trio exchanged a frown. "Who knows what?" asked Ron, the words coming out muffled around a mouthful of chocolate. Hermione scowled at him in disgust, but it went unnoticed.

"Umbridge," she elaborated. "She knows about the defence class."

Harry was horrified. "How do you know?" he asked breathlessly. Winona and Hermione's combined, flat stares made heat creep along the lines of her cousin's cheekbones. "Right," he muttered, clearing his throat and looking away.

"She's going to put out another Educational Decree on Monday morning," Winona continued, "henceforth banning student organisations, clubs, societies and the like."

Ron swallowed the chocolate in his mouth with a great gulp. "But, what are we going to-"

"It doesn't matter," said Harry, strangely impassioned.

Hermione's expression pinched, but she said nothing. Ron just gaped. "Doesn't matter-?"

"Not one bit," Harry nodded once, punctuation to his statement. "We're still going to do it."

"We'll have to be extra careful about it now," whispered Hermione, eyeing a nearby group of third years with unearned suspicion. "But Harry's right – if anything, this just gives us all the more reason to continue."

Ron looked gobsmacked. "Who are you, and what have you done with Hermione?"

Hermione rolled her eyes impatiently. "She doesn't want us doing this – it isn't anything we didn't know before."

Harry looked particularly impressed by his friend's bravado. "We still have no idea where we're going to hold the class, you realise," he said mildly.

Hermione waved her hand as if to bat away their worries. "We'll figure it out," she said surely, then she abruptly pulled out a thick, dusty tome and slammed it onto the table between them, beginning to study as if she hadn't a care in the world.

Winona looked to the boys, who seemed just as bewildered, and Harry turned to her. "Um, if you have a vision on anything to do with-"

"You'll be my first stop," she promised.

"Even before Dumbledore?" he asked, not petulant or bitter, but simply matter-of-fact.

Winona couldn't help but smile. "Even before Dumbledore."

And when Monday morning dawned, Harry and his friends weren't at all surprised to find the Educational Decree hanging on the notice board in the Gryffindor common room. Angelina, however, was another story altogether.

"How dare she?" Angelina seethed when Winona made her way down the stairs, yawning and scrubbing at her tired eyes after another sleepless night – and not of the fun variety.

"How dare who what?" Winona mumbled, gripping the strap of her bag as she caught up to the girls, who were just now making their way through the portrait hole in the direction of breakfast.

"Umbridge!" hissed Angelina, fire crackling in her eyes. "How dare she suspend the Quidditch team?"

Winona blinked, blindsided. "She suspended the Quidditch team?"

"She suspended all teams," her friend snarled, looking particularly wild. "You didn't See this happening?"

Winona stared at her a moment, confused and foggy from lack of sleep, only to abruptly realise what she was on about. "The Educational Decree," she murmured, thumping herself on the forehead. "Of course."

"You knew?!" Angelina seethed.

Feeling very much like the honest answer wasn't the right one, Winona warily said, "Well, I knew she was going to band clubs – but I didn't for a moment think she'd actually ban Quidditch-"

Angelina's jaw was tight, brown eyes hot as she glowered hatefully at her own feet. Katie wrapped an arm around Angelina's waist. "It's okay, Ange," she said softly. "You've just gotta go see her and get permission to reform. There's no reason she'll say no."

"Well, Harry sure as hell had better not give her a reason," Angelina muttered.

Winona wanted to snap at her for the tone, but she held her tongue. It would do nobody any good to start an argument with Angelina. Besides, Winona knew she was under a lot of stress, being Quidditch Captain and all.

They made it to the Great Hall without incident, and Winona left the girls to go meet Fred and George, who were sat by Harry, Ron and Hermione, talking in low tones.

"Morning Winnie. Did you see the notice?" asked Neville politely as she took a seat opposite him, between Fred and Ginny.

"See it? Not physically," she replied. Neville looked confused, but Winona just reached for the crêpes and began to pile them with fruit. Fred squeezed her thigh in hello, and she pressed a sugary kiss to his cheek in reply.

"Did you know the Decree applies to Quidditch, as well?" George asked her, aghast.

"Ange told me," she nodded, swiping Fred's goblet of apple juice to drink from. "I didn't even think about it. Umbridge is officially the worst."

"Can you tell us if she'll let us play again?" Fred asked hopefully.

Winona shrugged. "Haven't Seen anything, but I'll tell you if I do."

It wasn't until George had Potions and Winona was enjoying her free period with Harry that there were any other interruptions to her day. They were in a random hall of the castle, Winona perched beside Fred on a stone bench, her legs thrown over his lap and her back pressed against the wall. The pair of them were talking in low, intimate tones about nothing in particular, Fred pulling stupid poses while Winona sketched him with a pencil.

Their moment of peace was interrupted by fast footfalls on the floor, followed by a panting Harry, who muttered, "Mischief managed," at a familiar piece of parchment and shoved it into his back pocket.

"Harry?" Winona asked, sitting up straight. "What's wrong?"

"Hedwig just arrived in my History of Magic class, with a note from Snuffles," he told her briskly. "I think she'd been intercepted. Her wing was all mangled."

"Is she okay?!" she asked in alarm, already shoving her supplies back into her satchel. Harry's hands gripped her wrists, stopping her frantic movement.

"She's fine," he assured her, calmer now that he realised his panic was scaring her. "Professor Grubbly-Plank is taking care of her; says she'll be fine in a few days. There's nothing you can do to help."

And he was right – where was she planning to go, exactly? Off to find the person who hurt Hedwig and hex them? Some things were impossible, even for her.

"What'd Snuffles say?" she asked instead, relaxing back against the stone wall of the castle, still half strewn over Fred's lap. Her boyfriend was toying halfheartedly with the laces of her trainers, and she batted his hands away when he began to playfully tie them together.

When Harry handed her the small note, she unrolled it.

Today. Same time, same place. Tell pup.

That was all it said, written in Sirius' familiar calligraphy. She looked up at Harry, who nodded once, and she rolled it back up before handing it back. "And you think someone intercepted it?" she asked quietly, distractedly pulling her loose hair up into a ponytail.

"They must have; Hedwig's never been injured on a flight before," Harry told her hastily. "It can't be a coincidence."

She agreed, and she didn't have to say as much for him to know it.

"If someone read this, they wouldn't know anything, right?" he asked. He looked painfully hopeful, and Winona frowned.

"I dunno," she murmured. "They'd have to know the last place we all spoke – and who 'pup' is."

"But there's no way to tie it to us, is there?"

"None I can see," she assured him. "But maybe we should tell him not to come."

"How?" he asked smartly, pulling her up short. He was right again. There was no way to get a message to Sirius in time, and certainly not without risk of it being intercepted again. There was no solution but to let Sirius Floo them, and pray to Merlin nobody arrived to stop them – or to arrest their guardian, the only family either of them had left.

That night the twins were celebrating – the day before they'd finally perfected the Puking Pastilles from their Skiving Snackbox range – and they were doing so by giving demonstrations in the common room.

One would eat half the pastille, puke their guts up into a bucket, then force the other half down their retching throat to stop the sick. They'd gathered a crowd of overexcited students, all practically throwing their gold in the twins' faces to buy the product.

Winona was bottomlessly proud of them, even if she was disgusted by the graphic display. She chose to sat nearer to Harry and his friends, trying not to wrinkle her nose in the disgust every time she had to listen to Fred or George gagging into a bucket.

"Seriously, Win, how can you snog the bloke?" Ron asked, doing nothing to hide his own disgust as Fred projectile-vomited across the room, George catching it in their bucket to the cheers of approval from the first-years.

"I won't be for a long while, I can tell you that," she muttered, pointedly keeping her attention on the essay she was writing for Professor Sprout.

Eventually the crowd began to disperse, the twins' disgusting exhibition coming to an end. Fred made his way towards her as George and Lee counted up their earnings at a table in the back of the common room.

"Twenty-six Galleons," said Fred proudly, ducking down to press his lips to her cheek.

She flinched out of the way just before he could make contact, pushing him stubbornly away from her. "I love you, and I'm beyond proud, but if you kiss me right now, I'm going to throw up," she warned him, grimacing at his breath.

Fred laughed and settled for squeezing her hand instead. "We're gonna get back up to the dorm," he told her. "We did so well today – we wanna work on the Fever Fudge before bed, since we're on such a roll."

"I'm gonna stay down here," she replied. "I'll see you in the morning?"

"Night," he said, swooping down just quickly enough to press a cheeky kiss to the crown of her head, then laughing giddily when she made a gagging sound and shoved him away. He waved at Harry, Hermione and Ron, who all waved back, then he, George and Lee made their way up the stairs to the dorm.

Winona watched the clock, waiting for the hours to tick by, until finally – blessedly – it was two minutes passed midnight, and her father's head materialised in the fireplace. "Sirius!" yelped Ron, who had nearly fallen asleep while they waited.

"Hi," said her dad, grinning at them widely. Winona was the first to leave her spot, kneeling in the hearth and replying in kind. "How're things?" he asked once Harry, Hermione and Ron had all greeted him, joining her on the rug by the fire.

"Not that good," said Harry as Hermione pulled Crookshanks back to stop him singeing his whiskers. "The Ministry's forced through another decree, which means we're not allowed to have Quidditch teams-"

"Or secret Defence Against the Dark Arts groups?" finished Sirius, a wicked look on his fiery face.

Even Winona was surprised by that one. "How did you know about that?" Harry demanded, panic lighting up his emerald eyes.

"You want to choose your meeting places more carefully," said Sirius, grinning still more broadly. "The Hog's Head, I ask you? Pup, I thought you'd know better, at least," he added cheekily. The words were playful, rather than scolding, and Winona rolled her eyes.

"Well, it was better than the Three Broomsticks!" Hermione argued defensively. "That's always packed with people-"

"Which means you'd have been harder to overhear," Sirius told her calmly. "You've got a lot to learn, Hermione."

Hermione pouted like she'd been told she was getting a T on an essay, and Winona had to smirk. "Who overheard us?" Harry asked tersely.

"Mundungus, of course," said Sirius, and when they all looked puzzled, he laughed. It was a bark of a sound, and Winona felt something in her chest melt. That sound reminded her of home in a way she couldn't quite explain, and it made her feel uncomfortably homesick. For the first time in a long time, she couldn't wait for the end of the school year to come. "He was the witch under the veil."

"That was Mundungus?" Harry said, stunned. "What was he doing in the Hog's Head?"

"What do you think he was doing?" Sirius asked impatiently. "Keeping an eye on you two, of course."

Winona and Harry exchanged a dark look. "We're still being followed?" he demanded, sounding less than pleased.

"Yeah, you are," Sirius told them freely, "and just as well, isn't it, if the first thing you're going to do on your weekend off is organise an illegal defence group."

But instead of looking angry with them, or disappointed in any way, Sirius looked rather proud. Winona grinned at him, holding back easy laughter. Sirius was more predictable than he thought – but she liked that about him. Maybe it was the Seer in her, but she liked predictable things.

Maybe that was why she loved Fred so much; he was utterly predictable. After all, you could always count on him to be unpredictable, and it was essentially the same thing.

"Why was Dung hiding from us?" Ron wondered. "We'd've liked to've seen him."

"He was banned from the Hog's Head twenty years ago," said Sirius.

Winona snorted. "Why am I not surprised?" she wondered, and when her dad grinned, it was wolfish.

"That barman's got a long memory. We lost Moody's spare Invisibility Cloak when Sturgis was arrested, so Dung's been dressing as a witch a lot lately … anyway … first of all, Ron – I've sworn to pass on a message from your mother."

Ron immediately looked apprehensive, as if some sixth sense was telling him it wasn't going to be pleasant. "Oh yeah?"

"She says on no account whatsoever are you to take part in an illegal secret Defence Against the Dark Arts group. She says you'll be expelled for sure and your future will be ruined. She says there will be plenty of time to learn how to defend yourself later and that you are too young to be worrying about that right now. She also advises you two not to proceed with the group," he added, glancing at Harry and Hermione, "though she accepts that she has no authority over either of you and simply begs you to remember that she has your best interests at heart."

"She didn't mention me?" Winona asked curiously.

Sirius laughed. "She wanted to; I could see it in her eyes. But I think after the summer you've just had, she didn't want to rock the boat, as it were," he told her honestly. "Besides, I think she knew I'd take offence if she tried ordering you about like you were her own."

It made her strangely warm to hear him say that, but Winona wasn't quite sure why.

"She couldn't have written to say this herself?" asked Ron with a frown.

"Well, if the owl had been intercepted, you'd all have been in real trouble," Sirius reminded him tartly, and Ron's ears went red, "and she can't say it for herself because she's on duty tonight."

"On duty doing what?"

"Never you mind, just stuff for the Order," said Sirius. Ron automatically turned in Winona's direction. "And don't you go asking Winnie a thing," he ordered in a bark. Ron immediately fell still. "She couldn't tell you even if she wanted to."

"Yes, sir," said Ron, looking meek.

Sirius didn't acknowledge that he'd spoken, looking at them others easily. "So it's fallen to me to be the messenger – and make sure you tell her I passed it all on, because I don't think she trusts me to," he told them in a murmur.

There was a moment of silence, but Winona had questions burning like fire on her tongue. "You're okay with Harry and I doing this, right?" she asked Sirius hopefully. She didn't need his permission, but his blessing would have certainly been nice. She didn't want anything to put a rift between them – but she'd be doing this, no matter Sirius' opinion.

"Me? Of course!" he said, looking surprised that she'd even had to ask. "I think it's an excellent idea!"

Harry and Winona exchanged a look. "You do?" asked Harry, hope clinging to his voice.

"Of course I do! Harry, d'you think your father and I would've lain down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge? And Winnie, your mother would have been the one to come up with the whole idea, were she around," he assured them.

Harry remained unconvinced. "But last term all you did was tell me to be careful and not take risks-"

"Last year, all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you, Harry," Sirius reminded him. "This year, we know there's someone outside Hogwarts who'd like to kill us all, so I think learning to defend yourselves properly is a very good idea!"

Hermione spoke up then. "And if we do get expelled?"

Harry looked aghast. "Hermione, this whole thing was your idea!"

"I know it was. I just wondered what Sirius thought."

They couldn't see Sirius' body, and Winona could tell he'd shrugged. "Well, better expelled and able to defend yourselves than sitting safely in school without a clue," he said simply.

"Hear, hear," Harry and Ron cheered enthusiastically.

Winona smiled wryly. "You're pretty cool, you know that?"

Sirius preened in amongst the flames. "Ah, the words every dad dreams to hear his kid say," he mused, looking mightily pleased with himself. Winona rolled her eyes but even as she grinned. "So," he continued quickly, "how are you organising this group? Where are you meeting?"

"Well, that's a bit of a problem now," said Harry. "Dunno where we're going to be able to go."

Sirius' eyes lit up with an idea – but Winona knew what it was before he'd even spoken. "We can't use the Shrieking Shack," she told him with a shake of her head. "It's much too small for what we need. Besides, imagine sneaking thirty kids out there every night? It's not worth the trouble."

"Fair point," said her dad, looking slightly crestfallen. "Well, I'm sure you'll come up with somewhere. There used to be a pretty roomy secret passageway behind that big mirror on the fourth floor, you might have enough space to practise jinxes in there."

"Fred and George told me it's blocked," said Harry, shaking his head. "Caved in or something."

"Oh…" murmured Sirius, frowning. Winona got the sense that he suddenly wished he were there with them. She wondered if she'd feel the same, years from now, after she'd graduated and left Hogwarts in the past. "Well, I'll have a think and get back to-"

But Sirius broke off with a small gasp, turning to the left to stare at the brick wall. Winona knew he was seeing something none of them could, and panic twisted painfully in her gut.

"Sirius?" whispered Harry in alarm.

But in a flash Sirius was gone, leaving nothing but the crackling flames and glowing embers of a fire that felt colder than it had a moment ago.

Hermione suddenly gave a horrified gasp and leapt to her feet, staring into the fire with horror on her face. A hand had appeared amongst the flames, groping as though to catch hold of something; a stubby, short-fingered hand covered in ugly, old-fashioned rings.

Winona sucked in a sharp breath of air. "Go!" she hissed at the trio, who didn't hesitate for a moment to leap to their feet and book it back up to the dorms. Winona was close behind Hermione, pushing her hurriedly up the stairs. Her heart didn't stop hammering until long after she'd safely shut her dormitory's door behind her and pulled the curtains of her four-poster bed shut around her, sealing her within.

But even then she didn't feel safe. Even then she felt Umbridge's presence like a mould in her school. And for once she felt completely and utterly helpless. To take on Umbridge was to take on the entire Ministry – to take on the Minister himself.

Could they do it, she wondered as she lay awake, staring unseeingly up at the shadowed ceiling? She wasn't sure, and something in her gut told her she wasn't going to like where that path led them – but she also knew, better than anything else, that she was helpless to do anything but try.


A/N: Hey guys, I hope you enjoyed this one.

As an aside, I'm working on another story in my free time, and I was curious about whether anyone would be interested in it. It's a Dean Winchester/OC from Supernatural. I've never really seen any Dean/OC fics that I've thoroughly enjoyed – so why not write my own? - and with the recent finale, it's gotten me back into the spirit of the show (and making me think of all the things I'd change if given the chance).

So, are there any Supernatural fans reading this? Would any of you be interested in a Dean/OC story? It would be mostly original content, with a little bit of canon mixed in – if you've read my Doctor Who story, it will be a lot like that as far as design goes. If you would be interested, I'm always looking for people to bounce ideas off, so shoot me a message and we can collab!

(Or, alternatively, find me at "arrianereads" on both insta and twitter.)

Review of the week goes to: homelybiscuit – you stayed up late to read this? Absolutely love that for you. Seriously, the nighttime hours I've spent reading fanfic when I should have been sleeping… it's ridiculous. Glad to see the tradition is sticking firm. Hope you enjoyed!

I'll see you guys in a week or so with another new chapter.