When she slipped back into the boys' dorm, it was to find everything exactly as she'd left it. Fred and George were using a spare scrap of parchment to do the sums for their newest order and Lee was snoring pleasantly from across the room. Nothing had changed, and yet she was struck with the unfair knowledge that everything was about to.

"What'd Harry want?" Fred asked, looking up from the math that she knew made him want to swan-dive off the astronomy tower.

"Girl advice," she told him distractedly.

That surprised him. "Really? So he came to you?"

She looked up, an eyebrow cocked. "As opposed to who? You?"

"Well, you'd think it's obvious I know what I'm talking about," he said with a confident shrug. "I got you to fall in love with me, didn't I? I reckon I deserve at least some credit for that. I mean, you're like a vault," he said, then at her stony expression seemed to reconsider. "A very beautiful, lovely, kind, talented vault. The best vault. The shiniest vault. One not even Gringotts could afford…"

"So now I'm for sale?"

"No… I, uh, I'm gonna shut up now," he mumbled. George snorted a laugh and clapped him sympathetically on the shoulder.

They went to bed soon after that, George snoring away happily in his bed while Winona curled herself around Fred while also trying to keep him from feeling her racing heart. But they were pressed together, their chests touching, and he felt it anyway.

"Your heart's racing," he murmured. She couldn't see his expression – the curtains were drawn, blocking out the light – but his breath was warm and minty, and she could feel his concern like it were some tangible thing. "What's the matter?"

She thought about how to reply – both what she should say and what she could – but in the end all that came out was, "I couldn't shield Harry from the pain."

She felt Fred's confusion even if he did hide it well, brushing his lips over her hairline, fingertips dancing across the exposed skin at her waist. "What pain?"

She shut her eyes and focused on the feel of his touch. "The pain that's coming; the pain that can't be stopped."

Fred was quiet a minute, letting the words sit between them, ringing loud in the silence of the room. "Do you need to go see Dumbledore?" he finally asked, so soft it was practically just a breath.

Behind her shut lids Winona could see Dumbledore's face, creased and folded in frustration and panic, and she already knew the answer. "I'll see him soon enough."

Fred's hand stilled against her, long fingers curling around the jut of her hip as if for traction. "Win, you're worrying me," he told her, unusually solemn.

"I know," she sighed, nuzzling into the hollow of his throat. "I'm sorry. I wish I could say more. I wish I knew more."

"More about what?"

She swallowed around the lump that had at some point appeared in her throat. "Something terrible's about to happen, but someone's figured out how to hide it from me," she confessed, knowing she could say that much, at least.

Fred went still beside her. "How d'you know?" he asked, barely a whisper, like anything louder might summon an evil wizard to his dorm just to kill them both for daring to mention him in their pillow talk.

"I just do," she whispered back. "I can't explain it."

Her eyes began to burn with tears, and when she spoke again, her voice was thick with them.

"Harry's going to have a dream, and it's going to tell us what we need to know."

Fred considered it. "Should I be worried?"

She swallowed again. "I really don't know."

Eventually Fred managed to drift off to sleep, his large, warm, capable hand curled around her hip. Her heart wouldn't stop racing, like a horse's hooves galloping against the inside of her chest. She felt like she were standing on a ledge, eyes shut tight, waiting for somebody to shove her over the edge.

When the shouts finally came, they were muffled and distant. She might have even dismissed them if she hadn't been waiting, every fibre of her being tense in anticipation of this disturbance in the night.

The hour was late, the sky pitch black, barely a star to be seen. She pulled herself gently and carefully out of Fred's sleepy grip. He reached for her, mumbling nonsense under his breath, but she kissed him sweetly on the forehead and whispered, "I'll be right back."

With another mumble he burrowed back into the warmth of his covers and fell back asleep. Winona tiptoed to the door, easing out of the gap then shutting it silently behind her before jogging down the hall on cold, bare feet. She didn't bother knocking on the fifth years' door; she simply threw it wide open.

Seamus, Neville and Dean were stood at the end of Harry's bed, while Ron was stood over him, gripping his shoulders, trying and failing to wake him. The boys at the end of the bed flinched when she burst into the room, and Seamus even squeaked like a startled guinea pig, grabbing a nearby jumper to hold up over his bare chest. Winona ignored them, all but shoving her way through their wall and climbing onto Harry's bed.

"What's she doing here!" asked Neville, sounding terribly alarmed by her sudden appearance.

"She probably had a vision," Dean hissed back.

"She's on his bed!" said Seamus, disgusted. "That's not allowed."

"They're cousins, you dolt," Ron snapped, but Winona wasn't paying them any attention. She knelt over Harry, knocking Ron's hands out of the way and gripping his shoulders tight.

He was the exact image of her vision, sweaty and twisted in his sheets, face screwed up in unimaginable pain. Winona's gut wrenched with guilt and panic, and she could hear her own pulse in her ears.

"Harry, you have to wake up!" she called, then looked over her shoulder at the boys. "Someone go get McGonagall!" she ordered them, and then when nobody moved, she screamed, "Now!"

Neville squeaked and ran from the room, tripping twice on the way to the door. Winona shook her cousin again.

"Harry!" she cried, and finally Harry opened his eyes, only to sit upright, roll over and vomit over the edge of his mattress. Winona was already curled next to him, smoothing his hair back from his burning forehead and murmuring soothing words over his retches. "Harry, what did you see?" she asked him once he finished throwing up. "What's happened?"

But Harry wasn't looking at her. "Your dad," he panted at Ron. "Your dad's … been attacked…"

Ron didn't look alarmed, only confused. "What?" he asked flatly. Winona had stopped breathing, staring at Harry with simmering terror. Mr Weasley was in trouble. Mr Weasley could very well be dead. And she hadn't Seen it. Hadn't been able to stop it.

"Your dad!" Harry shouted shakily. "He's been bitten – it's serious, there was blood everywhere-"

"Harry, mate," said Ron slowly, warily, "you…you were just dreaming-"

"No!" cried Harry, trembling from head to toe. "It wasn't a dream … not an ordinary dream … I was there, I saw it … I did it…"

Seamus and Dean were muttering between themselves at the end of the bed, something about being sure Harry had gone completely over the edge, and Winona turned on them with a growl. "If you're not going to be any help, then kindly fuck off," she snarled, and the poor kids looked about ready to dive from the window if it meant she wouldn't snarl at them ever again.

Harry leant over the edge of his bed again, causing Ron to leap out of the way of the vomit that would have otherwise hit his bare feet.

"Harry, you're not well," he said shakily. "Neville's gone to get McGonagall – you're gonna be okay-"

"I'm fine!" Harry choked, wiping his mouth on his pyjamas and shaking uncontrollably. "There's nothing wrong with me, it's your dad you've got to worry about – we need to find out where he is – he's bleeding like mad – I was – it was a huge snake."

He was shaking so hard he seemed to vibrate, and Winona wrapped an arm around him, pulling his clammy form in against hers. "It's okay, you're okay," she whispered, not sure whose sake she was saying it for. "You're all right."

"Did you," Harry coughed once, wiping his mouth again. "Did you know?"

It took Winona a moment to realise he was asking her. She held him tighter. "No, only that you would. Voldemort's figured out a way to hide from me."

Everyone else in the room flinched at her use of the name, but she ignored them. "How?" Harry rasped.

"I don't know yet," she said, aware she was rocking him like a baby, but utterly uncaring. "I dunno, but we'll figure it out. You're gonna be okay. Everyone's gonna be okay."

McGonagall finally arrived. Winona had never seen her move so fast, practically sprinting across the room to come to a stop by Harry's bed. It said a lot about the severity of the situation that she didn't so much as bat an eyelid at the sight of Winona tangled up beside her cousin in the boys' dorms, a clear disregard of the castle's rules.

"What is it, Potter? Where does it hurt?" McGonagall demanded anxiously.

"It's Ron's dad," said Harry, pushing Winona away from him so he could sit up. "He's been attacked by a snake and it's serious, I saw it happen."

McGonagall frowned. "What do you mean, you saw it happen?"

"I don't know … I was asleep and then I was there…"

"You mean you dreamed this?"

"No!" snapped Harry angrily. "I was having a dream at first about something completely different, something stupid … and then this interrupted it. It was real, I didn't imagine it. Mr. Weasley was asleep on the floor and he was attacked by a gigantic snake, there was a load of blood, he collapsed, someone's got to find out where he is…"

Slowly, McGonagall turned her eyes to Winona, who was sure she looked just as pale. "Is this true, Black?" she asked, voice trembling.

"I didn't See it," Winona said. "Voldemort's blocking me somehow – letting other people make his decisions for him. I don't know – I can't explain it. But I knew Harry would see tonight, only I didn't know what; just that it would be bad-"

McGonagall looked spooked, which in and of itself was alarming. "Put on your dressing gowns – we're going to see the Headmaster," she ordered Harry and Winona in her usual, no-nonsense tone. "Weasley, you ought to come too."

"I'll get the twins," said Winona.

McGonagall wanted to argue, Winona could tell, but by some miracle she didn't. She nodded once, a hard, sharp gesture. As Harry and Ron pulled dressing gowns on over their pyjamas, Winona shoved past a shocked looking Seamus and Dean and booked it to the seventh years' dorm. She burst through the door with enough force to wake both twins from their sleep; but not Lee, who predictably snored on, blissfully oblivious to the chaos around him.

"Win…?" murmured Fred, blinking in the muted light and patting the empty bed beside him sleepily, searching for her even half-asleep.

"You have to get up. Now. Both of you," she barked, already ripping their dressing gowns off their hooks and throwing one at each of them.

"Wha's 'appening?" George slurred.

"It's your dad."

"Dad?" echoed Fred, sitting up slowly. "What d'you mean?"

"I mean he's in trouble. Get up, we have to go now."

"You had a vision?" asked George, climbing to his feet and sloppily pulling on his holey old dressing gown. Across from him, Fred did the same.

"No. Harry did," she said shortly.

"Harry had a vision?" Fred blinked, mind and body both moving much too slow for Winona's liking. "I didn't know he could-"

"Fred, there's no time. It's bad, okay? Your dad, I dunno…" she trailed off, heart in her throat, eyes burning with tears. "We need to leave. Now."

This time the twins didn't hesitate to follow her out of the room, although they looked rather gobsmacked by the sight of McGonagall in her nightgown and rollers, storming her way down the corridor.

"Where're we going?" George asked as they blindly followed her down the stairs and across the common room to the portrait hole.

"Dumbledore," said Winona succinctly. Fred tried to catch up to her, probably to ask more questions, but she barely noticed, threading an arm around Harry's shoulders and huddling close to him. He was still trembling all over and she gripped him tight, as if the harder she squeezed, the better he might feel. Or, at the very least, the less alone he'd think he was.

The walk to Dumbledore's office seemed to take hours as it was happening, but by the time they reached the giant gargoyle that stood guard to the staircase leading to the Headmaster's study, Winona found she suddenly couldn't remember any of it, as if they'd simply stepped from the common room and appeared here by magic.

McGonagall gave the gargoyle the password and it obediently leapt out of the way, letting the six of them all crowd onto the tight, circular staircase. Winona was so close to McGonagall that she could smell the professor's breath – some kind of herbal, minty tea – and so she shuffled closer to Harry, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her heart that told her every second was a waste of time Mr Weasley didn't have.

There was enthusiastic conversation coming from inside Dumbledore's office, but it fell forebodingly silent the moment McGonagall rapped the brass knocker. Without any verbal command the door swung open to reveal Dumbledore, alone in his office, clad in a dressing gown, his snowy hair wilder than usual.

"Oh, it's you, Minerva…" he began, sounding relieved, only to trail off in wary concern when he spied the small troupe of students trailing behind her.

"Professor Dumbledore, Potter has had a .… well, a nightmare," said McGonagall, slow and uncertain, like she wasn't totally sure she believed it. Winona tightened the arm around Harry's shoulders, trying to keep the nerves from showing on her face.

"It wasn't a nightmare," said Harry quickly.

"Very well, then, Potter," McGonagall sighed, "you tell the Headmaster about it."

"I … well, I was asleep…" said Harry, frustration and pain in his voice. Winona held him tighter. Dumbledore didn't look up at him, but rather stared down at his own hands, and it irritated Winona just as much as she imagined it bothered Harry. "But it wasn't an ordinary dream … it was real … I saw it happen…"

"Harry," Winona whispered, nudging him pointedly.

Harry gulped, the sound loud in the otherwise silent room. "Ron's dad – Mr Weasley – has been attacked by a giant snake."

For a long moment Dumbledore didn't say anything, then his crystal eyes flickered from a white-faced Harry to a somber Winona. "It's true, sir," she told him quickly. "And it's urgent. He needs to be found as soon as possible."

But Dumbledore said nothing, staring between the cousins, calculations sparkling in his eyes.

Winona knew they didn't have the time for Dumbledore's usual, careful planning. "I'm not kidding, Dumbledore," she snapped, uncaring that the careful respect had disappeared from her voice, leaving her sounding sharp and harsh. "Send your portraits now. It's imperative the Order finds Mr Weasley first."

Dumbledore steepled his fingers, thoughtful for one more long, tense moment, before he stood upright so suddenly that Harry flinched back against Winona in surprise. "Everard?" the Headmaster said sharply. "And you too, Dilys!"

The two closest portraits snapped awake.

"You were listening?"

"Naturally," said the witch, and Winona suddenly wondered if their sleeping was always a ruse; if they were always listening. There had certainly been enough said in this office that could be used to blackmail more people than Winona cared to count. She wondered if every one of these portraits was loyal to Dumbledore, then whether it was possible for a portrait to even have a sense of loyalty at all.

"The man has red hair and glasses," Dumbledore told the wizard on the left, who now looked wide awake and terribly concerned. "Everard, you will need to raise the alarm, make sure he is found by the right people-"

The two figures stepped out of their frames into the aether, disappearing from sight. The twins were eyeing the portraits with interest, but Winona didn't have time to fret about that now. They had bigger things to worry about now.

Dumbledore, however, had noticed their stares. "Everard and Dilys were two of Hogwarts' most celebrated Heads," Dumbledore said, gesturing for the six of them to approach his desk. They did as they were told, taking the small flight of steps up to his podium and coming to a stop near to Fawkes. "Their renown is such that both have portraits hanging in other important wizarding institutions. As they are free to move between their own portraits, they can tell us what may be happening elsewhere…"

"But Mr. Weasley could be anywhere!" exclaimed Harry.

Dumbledore was calm, turning to look expectantly at Winona. She knew what he wanted to know, and she even knew the answer to his question. But then again, so did he. "We both know where Mr Weasley is," she said without flinching, meeting the Headmaster's stare across the empty expanse of his desk.

Dumbledore leant back in his chair. "Indeed," he said mildly. Winona ground her teeth together in frustration.

"What do you mean?!" Fred demanded, frustration of his own pouring off him in waves. "Where is he?"

"Is he going to be all right?" George added, eyes darting between Winona and Dumbledore as if he couldn't decide who was more likely to know.

Dumbledore calmly retook his seat. "Please sit down, all of you," he said patiently, sweeping a hand to the space in front of his desk. "Everard and Dilys may not be back for several minutes. Professor McGonagall, if you could draw up extra chairs…"

McGonagall waved her wand over the bare stretch of floor and six wooden chairs appeared from thin air. Winona led Harry over to the closest one, sitting him down. He was still shaking all over, but she didn't think it was because he was cold.

Dumbledore was now stroking Fawkes's plumed golden head with one finger. The phoenix awoke and stretched his beautiful head high, observing Dumbledore through bright, dark eyes.

"We will need," Dumbledore said very softly, so softly that Winona almost missed it entirely, "a warning."

There was a flash of fire and the phoenix was gone, leaving the room somehow colder than it had been before.

"How did you see this, Harry?" Dumbledore suddenly asked. He still wasn't looking at Harry, even as he addressed him.

Harry shifted next to her, anger coming off him in waves. "Well – I don't know. Inside my head, I suppose-"

"You misunderstand me," said Dumbledore with maddening patience. "I mean … can you remember where you were positioned as you watched this attack happen? Were you perhaps standing beside the victim, or else looking down on the scene from above?"

Until that moment, Winona hadn't realised that was important to know. She turned in her chair to look at Harry, who was gaping at the Headmaster in shock. Something she knew didn't bode well for her peace of mind.

"I was the snake," Harry finally revealed, seeming to get paler and paler the longer this terrible night went on. "I saw it all from the snake's point of view."

Winona turned her head away, too afraid of what Harry might see in her eyes if he glanced at her. She hadn't noticed before now, but Fred and George had opted not to sit down. They remained standing, hovering to her left, their blue eyes hard and full of a fear they would never admit to.

Dumbledore stood to his feet and made his way over to the table of small silver instruments along the far wall, but Winona barely noticed. She was watching the twins, who were communicating in that silent way only they could.

But when Dumbledore said nothing they seemed to realise her attention had drifted and turned their focus to her. "What's happening?" George asked in a rush. "Is dad okay? Why didn't you have a vision?"

"Weasley," said McGonagall, aiming for stern but only hitting tired.

"It's our dad," Fred snapped. "I think we have a right to know."

And it said a lot about how concerned McGonagall was that she didn't even chide him for being rude. She looked pale in the light, and the inherent humour of seeing her in her dressing gown and rollers had long since faded, leaving it all feeling rather like a fever dream, or a forbidden glimpse behind the curtain at a show they'd never wanted to see.

Winona reached for Fred's hand, uncaring that McGonagall's watchful eyes were on them. His skin was cold and clammy against hers. It worried her, but she clutched him all the same, like if she could just hold on tightly enough, she might be able to force herself out of this nightmare and wake up in Fred's arms, ready for a day of boring classes and laughter with her friends.

But no matter how hard she gripped Fred's hand, or begged some faceless god to answer her prayers and make this all nothing but a bad dream, reality stayed as it was, and Winona's guilt threatened to swallow her whole.

"I don't know the answers," she whispered to the twins, eyes darting between them both, although it took no small degree of discipline to drag her gaze away from Fred's. "I wish I did. I wish there was more I could do. But – he's found my weakness. I did all I could."

Fred's brow pinched in concern. "Who found what weakness?"

Winona opened her mouth to reply, completely uncertain of what was going to come out of her mouth. However, before they got the chance to find out, Dumbledore reappeared, retaking his seat behind his ornate wooden desk and steepling his hands in front of him.

Winona expected him to ask Harry more, or maybe shift his attention to McGonagall, but instead he looked over to Winona, icy blue eyes hitting hers with a zap. "You had no warning?" he asked her calmly.

"None," she replied.

Dumbledore stroked his beard, and any other day it might have made her laugh. Now she just felt hollow. "And I assume the weakness you refer to is the loophole in the decisive nature of your visions-"

"Yes," she nodded once, and left it at that.

There came a shout from the top of the wall to their right as the portrait of the wizard named Everard reappeared from wherever he'd been sent. He was panting like any living human might after they had sprinted a great distance, but Winona couldn't marvel at the magic like she usually did. She didn't have the space in her brain.

"What news?" Dumbledore demanded before the portrait had even caught his breath.

"I yelled until someone came running. Said I'd heard something moving downstairs – they weren't sure whether to believe me but went down to check – you know there are no portraits down there to watch from. Anyway, they carried him up a few minutes later. He doesn't look good, he's covered in blood, I ran along to Elfrida Cragg's portrait to get a good view as they left-"

Ron had flinched at the words, moving in a heave like he were about to vomit, while Fred and George just stared at the Headmaster silently, growing more pale by the moment.

"Good," said Dumbledore when it became clear that to let him go on would only traumatise Mr Weasley's children more. "I take it Dilys will have seen him arrive, then-"

"Yes, they've taken him to St. Mungo's, Dumbledore," said the other portrait – a witch with silvery ringlets. "They carried him past my portrait … he looks bad…"

"Thank you," Dumbledore said briskly before turning his attention to McGonagall, who seemed torn between horror and shock that Harry hadn't only been suffering a terribly realistic night terror. "Minerva, I need you to go and wake Ginny Weasley – bring her here for me."

McGonagall got all the way to the door before she realised there was a missing piece to this puzzle. "And Dumbledore – what about Molly?"

"That will be a job for Fawkes when he has finished keeping a lookout for anybody approaching," Dumbledore told her calmly. McGonagall nodded and left the room with the quiet click of the door. "But she may already know, owing to that excellent clock of hers…"

"I doubt she's just sitting around, staring at the clock," snapped Fred, more on edge than ever before. Winona didn't doubt his heart was pounding with terror; she knew hers would be, if it were Sirius.

Dumbledore ignored him, summoning his kettle and casting a familiar charm over it before turning and waking a nearby portrait that Winona recognised from Grimmauld Place. During one of their long, late-night talks over the summer, Sirius had told her about the portrait in Harry's room that owned a matching frame in Hogwarts. It was the main way Sirius and Dumbledore communicated, although she'd heard the figure in the portrait itself wasn't particularly amenable.

"I need you to visit your other portrait again, Phineas," the Headmaster was saying urgently. "I've got another message."

"Visit my other portrait? Oh, no, Dumbledore, I'm far too tired tonight."

The other portraits gave a great outcry at his – quote, 'insubordination' – so he relented with a huff.

"Oh, very well," he groaned like they were all being terribly unfair, "though he may well have destroyed my picture by now, he's done away with most of the family-"

"Sirius knows not to destroy your portrait," said Dumbledore with a truly astonishing amount of patience. Had Winona been the one dealing with him, she'd have been shouting by now. "You are to give him the message that Arthur Weasley has been gravely injured and that his wife, children, Harry Potter and Winona will be arriving at his house shortly. Do you understand?"

"Yes, yes, very well," grumbled the figure, slouching from his portrait like a man held at wand-point.

The door to the office opened again, and Ginny was ushered inside by a still-frazzled McGonagall. She was wearing an old dressing gown that was two sizes too small, barely doing up at the front. Her hair resembled a bird's nest, and at the sight of her brothers, Winona and Harry already sat before the Headmaster, her eyes went wide.

"Harry – what's going on?" she asked, her voice smaller than Winona had ever heard it. "Professor McGonagall says you saw Dad get hurt – Winnie, do you know what-?"

"Your father has been injured in the course of his work for the Order of the Phoenix," Dumbledore told Ginny before either Harry or Winona could speak. "He's been taken to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I am sending you back to Sirius' house, which is much more convenient for the hospital than The Burrow. You will meet your mother there."

Ginny eyes began to shine, and she went directly to the twins. Fred threaded an arm over her shoulders and brought her into his side. Ginny huddled against him shamelessly. She was far too old to be caught being so sweet in public; but here with only their closest family and professors to bear witness, after the night they'd just had? She could make an exception.

"How're we going?" Fred asked, rubbing his hand up and down Ginny's arm, a thoughtless gesture, like he were subconsciously worried she might be cold. "Floo powder?"

"Floo powder isn't safe at the moment; the Network is being watched. You'll be taking a Portkey." He nodded at the old kettle sat on his desk, and Winona realised now why the charm he'd used seemed so familiar – they'd just finished their unit on the Portus Spell in Charms class. "We're just waiting for Phineas Nigellus to report back. I want to be sure that the coast is clear before sending you-"

Suddenly a flash of flame, followed by a single golden feather appearing in mid air, then floating gently down to the floor.

"Fawkes' warning," said Dumbledore, catching the feather as it fell. "Professor Umbridge must know you're out of your beds. Minerva, go and head her off – tell her any story-"

McGonagall was gone before he's finished his sentence.

"He says he'll be delighted," said the portrait behind Dumbledore, having returned to its frame. "My great-great-grandson has always had an odd taste in house-guests."

With a terrible swoop in her gut, Winona realised for the first time that the grouchy portrait behind Dumbledore wasn't just any old wizard – he was her great-great-great-grandfather. The realisation wasn't so much disturbing as it was distracting, and for a dizzying moment Winona stared up at the portrait, examining the lines of the man's painted face, trying to find something of herself in him. But there was nothing.

"Come here, then," Dumbledore said to all of them gathered in his office – the four Weasleys, Harry and Winona, what an odd hexad they made. Winona pulled her attention from her ancestor's face and looked back at Dumbledore, whose white brow was deeply furrowed. "And quickly, before anyone else joins us."

The twins and Ginny moved instantly to the kettle. Ron and Harry took an extra moment, and Winona was last, slipping into the gap between Harry and Fred. She pressed against Fred's side, letting the feeling of him against her calm her screaming soul. Reaching out, she pressed her finger to the curve of the kettle's handle.

As Dumbledore counted down, she shut her eyes tight and took a deep breath in. There came the uncanny feeling of being pulled through a tube the size of a pipe cleaner, but then it was over and her feet hit the floor with a thud, followed closely by her knees.

Grunting on impact, she took a moment to gather her wits before climbing back up. Hands were suddenly there, gripping her arms and gently helping her to her feet. She assumed it was Fred, but when she turned to look she found Sirius, his stormy eyes – so like her own – flickering over her body as though searching for some imagined injury.

Winona was stunned by the force that arose in her chest at the sight of him; like her heart were swelling with blood, blooming up into her throat and making it hard to breathe. She wanted to put her arms around him tight and squeeze until the feeling went away, but Sirius just as quickly looked over the others, searching them, too, for injury, and the swollen feeling between her lungs eased.

"What's going on?" her dad asked urgently. "Phineas Nigellus said Arthur's been badly injured-"

"Ask Harry," said Fred, but it was without accusation. It was simply a fact; Harry had the answers none of the rest of them did. Still, her cousin winced.

"Harry?" asked Sirius, eyes darting between Winona and his godson. "You mean you didn't-?" he asked Winona confusedly.

She shook her head. "Harry had the vision, not me," she told him shortly. "I've got a sort of…block."

Her dad very clearly wanted to press her on that one, but he knew he had to prioritise and instead turned his attention to Harry, who seemed impossibly paler than he had in Dumbledore's office. She wished she could tell his story for him, but she couldn't. Some things he just had to do alone.

Harry told them what he had seen, but it didn't escape Winona's notice that he made it sound like he'd been merely watching the attack, rather than been inside the snake itself. Ginny and Sirius listened with wide eyes, and as Harry spoke, Winona shifted closer to Fred.

With Ginny now being held by George, Fred's hands were free. Inexplicably nervous, Winona slid her hand into Fred's. The degree of relief she felt when he gripped her hand back was by no means small, and she practically fell into his side.

"Is Mum here?" Fred asked Sirius quickly.

"She probably doesn't even know what's happened yet," her dad shook his head. "The important thing was to get you away before Umbridge could interfere. I expect Dumbledore's letting Molly know now."

"We've got to go to St. Mungo's," said Ginny urgently. She took a step forwards as if planning to head out the door and walk to the hospital on foot, but suddenly she paused, glancing down at her nightdress with a frown. "Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything?"

Sirius blinked – he wasn't quite as used to Ginny's headstrong ways as the others were. "Hang on, you can't go tearing off to St. Mungo's!"

"Course we can go to St. Mungo's if we want," argued Fred. "He's our dad!"

Sirius remained calm. "And how are you going to explain how you knew Arthur was attacked before the hospital even let his wife know?"

George scowled. "What does that matter?"

"It matters because we don't want to draw attention to the fact that Harry is having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away!" Sirius responded angrily. "Have you any idea what the Ministry would make off that information?"

Winona knew he was right, but she also knew the twins weren't just going to agree without a fight. They were too stubborn, too passionate. They'd gotten as far as they had because they never let anybody tell them no. But as much as she loved that in them, it could sometimes be their greatest weakness.

"Somebody else could have told us," said Ginny, thinking on her feet, desperate to see her dad. "We could have heard it somewhere other than Harry."

"Like who?" asked Sirius impatiently.

"Like Winnie!" said Fred, turning to pin her with an impassioned stare. "She's a known Seer. Nobody would think twice about us turning up if she's there with us. If anything, it'll only prove how good she is as what she does!"

But Sirius was already shaking his head. "The last thing Winnie needs is people knowing how powerful she really is; she's got enough of the wrong people after her as it is." Fred and George were scowling, preparing to give him a piece of their mind, but he pressed on before they had the chance. "We can't bring that sort of attention down onto her, you of all people should know that!"

Fred opened his mouth to retort, but no sound came out. He didn't have a good argument. Winona wanted to take his hand again, but this time she held herself back. Instead she folded her arms over her chest and looked between her dad and her boyfriend warily.

"Listen," Sirius began again, injecting a hint more calm into his voice, "your dad's been hurt while on duty for the Order and the circumstances are fishy enough without his children knowing about it seconds after it happened, you could seriously damage the Order's-"

"We don't care about the dumb Order!" shouted Fred.

"It's our dad dying we're talking about!" yelled George.

"Your father knew what he was getting into and he won't thank you for messing things up for the Order!" snapped Sirius, rising to meet their hostility. "This is how it is – this is why you're not in the Order – you don't understand – there are things worth dying for!"

"Easy for you to say, stuck here!" snarled Fred. "I don't see you risking your neck!"

Sirius' face went pale and anger shifted and rippled across his expression like a living thing. "Fred!" Winona barked, voice layered with disapproval. Fred didn't meet her eyes, pacing away from them all and wiping his hands down the length of his face.

There was a long minute of awkward silence, no sound filling the room but the pop-crackle of the fire and the ticking of the nearby grandfather clock.

"I know it's hard," her dad finally broke the tense quiet, "but we've all got to act as though we don't know anything yet. We've got to stay put, at least until we hear from your mother, all right?"

Slowly, one by one, everybody took a seat. The twins were still scowling furiously, but they seemed to realise there wasn't an argument on earth that could convince Sirius to let them go off to St. Mungo's, and they sat down on either side of Ginny, faces all too pale in the firelight.

Winona was the only one who remained standing. She paced across the room to the fire, staring into the flames as the room breathed as one.

"Come on, lets all … let's all have a drink while we're waiting," said Sirius in a forced attempt to seem lighter. "Accio Butterbeer!"

Seven butterbeers flew into the room like they had a mind of their own. Winona didn't touch hers; she wasn't in the mood. The others drank in weary silence, the quiet stretching so long it began to feel awkward, but that wasn't enough to have them break it.

The first person to move from their position was her dad. He climbed to his feet, making his way across the room to her and reaching out to brace a large hand on her shoulder. "You all right, Pup?" he asked softly, and although his words were meant only for the two of them, they carried in the otherwise silent room.

"I'm fine," she insisted, not even sure if it was true. But that didn't matter; the Weasleys might lose their father tonight. Mr Weasley might die. That overrode any dismay she might have been feeling.

Sirius didn't look like he believed her, but she hadn't really expected him to. "What did you mean?" he asked in the same, private undertone. "When you said you had a block? Why didn't you See this?"

Winona was acutely aware that she had the whole room's attention, even if Sirius was blocking her from the rest of her friends. "I knew Harry was going to have the vision," she told him honestly. "I didn't know what it would be, just that something important was going to happen, and Harry was the one who was going to See it."

Sirius nodded patiently. "Why not you?"

This next part was harder to articulate. "That's…not so easy to answer," she confessed. Her dad's unyielding stare never wavered, and she took a deep breath in, the taste of smoke thick on her tongue. "He's been…blocking me."

Sirius' expression hardened like concrete. "By 'he', you mean…"

"Voldemort," she nodded slowly. "I think he's figured out that I'm watching his decisions. I think he's worked out that's all I'm watching."

"So this attack…"

"He's undoubtedly responsible," she assured him. "But he was careful to let somebody else make the active decisions. He's…clever."

Sirius nodded gravely. "The devil always is."

And they faded back into a tense, uneasy quiet.

Nearly an hour later there came a sudden burst of fire in midair. It was abrupt and startling, and everyone gave cries of shock as a scroll of parchment fell with a thud onto the table, accompanied by a single golden phoenix tail feather.

"Fawkes!" said Sirius at once, snatching up the parchment. "That's not Dumbledore's writing – it must be a message from your mother – here…" he handed the rolled note over to George, who all but tore it from his hand and read it aloud.

"Dad is still alive. I am setting out for St. Mungo's now. Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can. Mum."

George's voice trailed off into nothing, eyes round and full of ghosts.

"Still alive…" he echoed his mother's grim wording. "But that makes it sound…"

He never finished his sentence, but then again, he didn't really have to.

Winona had long-since taken the empty spot next to Harry on the love seat. He was trembling all over – had been ever since they'd arrived – and it didn't seem like he was going to be able to stop any time soon. Winona's instinct was to pull him close, but something told her he didn't want to be touched right now, so she stayed away.

Fred and George were sat on either side of Ginny, directly across from her. Every now and then one of the twins would meet her eye, and for maybe the first time in as long as Winona had known them, neither attempted so much as a smile.

She wanted to go to them, to curl around Fred like an octopus. If she couldn't hold the pieces of her cousin together, then at least she could try to ease her boyfriend's worry. But she felt like an intruder on their grief. She might have been close to the family, but that didn't make her a true Weasley.

The night was so long, Winona began to suspect they'd gotten themselves stuck in some sort of endless bubble, where the night would have have no end and the sun was never to rise. There was just this: long hours of cold air and the crackling of the fireplace and the weight of that terrible, horrifying unknown.

Eventually, one by one, they began to fall asleep. Fred was first, his head lolling sideways on to his shoulder. George slouched so deeply in his seat that he was practically horizontal. Ron's head was braced in his hands, but whether he was actually asleep or not, Winona couldn't tell. Ginny was awake, staring blankly at the fire, expression clear, giving no hint at the tempest beyond.

Harry and Winona didn't sleep, either, although for slightly different reasons. Harry was still too horrified from his vision to drift into sleep, probably afraid he'd find himself inside that terrible snake, off to kill another of the people he held so dear. Winona was worried; fretting over her cousin, her boyfriend and his family, and Mr Weasley, who'd been a father figure to her when she'd had none. Who didn't deserve to die tonight.

Harry turned to her at some point, still shaking, and Winona pulled her wand free from the knot in her hair, conjuring a blanket to wrap around his shoulders. He didn't protest; but only because he was too exhausted to bother.

"Will he live?" Harry asked, pulling the ends of the blanket tighter around him in a sad imitation of a hug. It was said in barely a whisper, so quiet Winona nearly missed it over George's quiet snores and the crackle of the fire Sirius tended to.

"I don't know," she told him honestly.

Harry frowned. "How do you not know?"

"I think I'm too upset to See. The visions usually come when I'm calm. If my head's too full of my own thoughts, it's like then there's no room for any more."

"Well, that's rubbish," Harry muttered, more to himself than to her.

"Yeah," she agreed, knocking her shoulder gently with his. "It is."

Mrs Weasley arrived at ten past five in the morning. There were no windows in the kitchen, so they couldn't see the sun, making it feel like just more extension on this endless night. The door swung open with a loud creak and Fred, George and Ron all jerked awake at the sound, instantly alert.

Mrs Weasley was pale and drawn, big purple bags under her eyes and her hair in a right state. Fred, Ron and Harry all stood to their feet when they realised it was her, and the blank look on Ginny's face shifted into desperate curiosity. Mrs Weasley gave a wan smile that was probably intended to reassure, although it really had the opposite effect.

"He's going to be all right," she told them all, her voice hoarse wth exhaustion. "He's sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill's sitting with him now; he's going to take the morning off work."

Winona felt her entire body relax from the taut position she'd been holding it in. She truly hadn't known for sure whether Mr Weasley would walk away from this. She'd hoped, prayed, had a vague feeling in her gut that he'd be okay, but at the end of the day she didn't want to go around giving anybody false hope. She wasn't infallible, and she didn't want to make things worse.

Fred had fallen back into his chair, hands splayed across his face, hiding his expression. Just like that, the invisible barrier that had been erected between them throughout the night melted away, and as George and Ginny climbed to their feet to hug their mother in celebration, Winona crossed the room to Fred.

He felt her approach and uncovered his face to reveal a torn expression and eyes glistening with unshed tears of relief. Winona sat sideways in his lap and wound her arms around his neck, bringing him tight against her. He breathed deeply, like it was the first breath he'd taken in hours, his own arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her to him.

They breathed as one, sharing their relief. Mr Weasley was okay; he was going to live. He was going to be fine. He wasn't leaving them; they still had time with him, years they could spend laughing at his silly plug collection and chuckling as Winona tried, in her limited experience, to explain exactly what electricity was, and how it worked.

There were a few moments of silent relief, the room soaking up the reality of their future, where for a moment there had been none. When the silence was broken, it was by Sirius.

"Breakfast!" he declared, all but leaping to his feet. The alcohol affecting him when they'd arrived had dissipated, and so this enthusiasm was all him. "Where's that accursed house-elf? Kreacher! KREACHER!"

Kreacher didn't appear, but Winona wasn't particularly surprised.

"Oh, forget it, then," muttered her dad, doing a swift headcount. "So, it's breakfast for – let's see – seven … bacon and eggs, I think, and some tea, and toast-"

He was sweeping towards the stove even as he spoke, preparing for the meal ahead of him. He looked brighter than Winona had seen him in a long while, and she soaked up the light of him, wondering, suddenly, if this is how he had looked all those years ago, before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had taken everything from him.

From them both.

"I'm going to go help with breakfast," Winona told Fred quietly, carding her fingers through his brilliant hair.

"I'll come," he offered, already beginning to stand, but she pushed him back down into his seat.

"You will not," she said sternly. "Your dad's alive. He's gonna be okay. Celebrate that with your family."

Fred's brow furrowed like she'd said something confusing. "But you're my family, too," he said with such simple, single-minded sincerity that Winona's heart swelled into her throat and made it too difficult to talk. She settled for kissing him gently on the forehead before pushing him sternly back against the couch and padded across the room to join Harry and her dad at the stove.

Mrs Weasley was holding Harry tight to her bosom, and he looked so supremely uncomfortable there that Winona had to bite back a smirk. Luckily for Harry, Mrs Weasley spied her and let him go, shuffling across the tiled floor to sweep Winona up in a tight embrace.

"You're all right, Winona?" Mrs Weasley asked, and Winona wriggled back far enough to frown at her.

"Of course," she said slowly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"When Dumbledore said it had been Harry to have the vision…well, I thought for a moment that he'd gotten the two of you confused. I thought maybe, because you didn't See, you weren't feeling well…"

Winona attempted a smile that fell flat. "I'm okay," she promised Mrs Weasley, and it was even almost true. "I'm really glad Mr Weasley's going to be all right."

Mrs Weasley smiled, then let Winona go to dab at her eyes. "Me too, dear. Me too."

She turned next to Sirius, who was pulling slices of bread from the packet. Winona began to rustle about in the ice box for butter and jam.

"I can't thank you enough, Sirius, for looking after my children tonight…"

"No need for thanks, Molly," said Sirius cheerfully. "I was so happy to be able to help. I hope you'll stay here in Grimmauld Place while Arthur's in hospital."

Mrs Weasley's eyes turned wet again. "Oh, Sirius, I'm so grateful…" she said, using the sleeve of her jumper to dab at her eyes, "they think he'll be there a little while and it would be wonderful to be nearer … of course, that might mean we're here for Christmas."

But Sirius was unconcerned. "The more the merrier!" he said with such fervour that anybody who heard couldn't help but believe it. Winona smiled to herself as she put all the different spreads out on the table. She was so happy to see they were all happy.

The blissful happy lasted only a few minutes, before Harry turned to Winona and her dad with a frown pulling at his face. "Can I have a quick word? Er…now?" he asked hesitantly. Winona instantly abandoned the toast she was cutting, wiping her hands on a towel and following Harry and Sirius into the pantry.

It was dark inside, only a sliver of light shining through the crack in the door. Something about it felt foreboding. Winona crossed her arms over her chest like a shield.

Harry launched into the details of his vision. Most of it was nothing Winona didn't already know – she'd heard everything he'd said to Dumbledore, after all – but she hadn't realised until that moment just how shaken Harry was about the point of view he'd experienced the vision from.

When Harry took a break from his anxious rambling to breathe, Sirius asked, "Did you tell Dumbledore this?"

"Yes," said Harry, understandably impatient, "but he didn't tell me what it meant. Well, he doesn't tell me anything any more."

The last part was said sourly, and Winona thought to herself that he was far too young to already be so bitter. But then again, hadn't she been, at his age? Perhaps it was a family trait.

"I'm sure he would have told you if it was anything to worry about," Sirius assured him, but even as he did he shot Winona a side-glance. In the tiny sliver of light available, Winona saw his expression clearly.

Not a word, he seemed to be warning her. We both know what this means, but you're not to say a word.

"But that's not all," said Harry urgently, his voice soft but carrying in the dark pantry. "Sirius, I … I think I'm going mad. Back in Dumbledore's office, just before we took the Portkey … for a couple of seconds there I thought I was a snake, I felt like one – my scar really hurt when I was looking at Dumbledore – Sirius, I wanted to attack him!"

"Shh," said Winona instinctively, reaching for her cousin, who was beginning to breathe a little too fast, his breaths heavy but shallow. Never a good sign. She stepped closer to him and smoothed down his wild hair in a thoughtless, soothing gesture. "You're not going mad, Harry," she promised him.

"It must have been the aftermath of the vision, that's all," said Sirius, swift and without hesitation. Even to Winona's ears it sounded like a bare-faced lie, but Harry was so disturbed from the events of the night that it wouldn't have surprised her if he missed it completely. "You were still thinking of the dream or whatever it was and-"

"It wasn't that," Harry insisted, "it was like something rose up inside me, like there's a snake inside me."

Heart aching like somebody were sticking pins into it just to watch it quiver, Winona opened her mouth to reassure him, only for Sirius to speak over her.

"You need to sleep," her dad said firmly. "You're going to have breakfast, then go upstairs to bed, and after lunch you can go and see Arthur with the others. You're in shock, Harry; you're blaming yourself for something you only witnessed, and it's lucky you did witness it or Arthur might have died. Just stop worrying."

He clapped Harry on the shoulder and left the pantry, leaving the two cousins alone in the dark. Harry stared after him, frozen where he stood. Winona wrapped an arm around her cousin's shoulders. He deserved the truth – or as much of the truth as she could spare, at least.

"I can't say much," she told him in a barely-there whisper that she knew wouldn't carry. "But I can tell you that Sirius is wrong, Harry. He's putting his head in the sand because he wants things to stay happy, wants us not to be in danger. But that's not the reality. We're all in danger, every single one of us, but nobody more than you."

Harry slumped where he stood, dropping his forehead onto her shoulder. For a brief moment she was certain she could feel a lightning-shaped burn through the layers of her clothes, but the feeling was gone in an instant, leaving her to wonder if maybe, out of the two of them, she was the one who was truly going mad.

"I'm gonna protect you, Harry," she promised him, smoothing a hand down his hair once more.

"I don't need protecting," he mumbled, but it was weak at best.

Winona smiled wryly, lifted his head up from her shoulder, and gently encouraged him out of the pantry.

Breakfast was ready by then, and Winona took the open seat between Fred and Ron, sipping a cup of hot tea and eating slowly, sitting back and listening to the easy chatter.

The sense of tension and unease that had pervaded the room for most of the night had finally lifted, everybody bright-eyed and smiling. The world suddenly seemed a much less cruel place, now that they knew Mr Weasley was going to be okay.

Eventually, once their simple breakfast had been demolished and the long night without sleep began to catch up to them, Mrs Weasley sent them all up to their rooms. Winona was fully intending to followed Fred to his room and nap the morning away in his bed, but she caught sight of Ginny shuffling quietly into the room she now had to herself and abruptly changed her mind.

"I'll see you soon," she told the twins, squeezing Fred's hand for emphasis.

"Where d'you think you're going?" Fred frowned, tugging at her hand stubbornly. "It's nap time."

"I just want to check something," she assured him. "I'll join you in a bit."

Fred pouted dramatically, but he was tired enough that he didn't have it in him to argue and simply relented, following George up the stairs while Winona hesitated on the landing. One everyone had disappeared into their rooms, Winona went straight to Ginny's room and knocked tentatively on the door.

A beat, then the creaking of floorboards before the door was pulled open to reveal a tired Ginny frowning at Winona in confusion. The expression was so similar to the one she'd just seen on Fred's face that Winona felt the urge to laugh. She swallowed it down, though, because the last thing Ginny needed was for her brother's girlfriend to interrupt her nap just to laugh in her face.

"Winnie?" Ginny asked, glancing over Winona's shoulder as if she might have brought the reason she was there with her.

"Can I come in?" Winona asked hopefully.

Still bemused, Ginny opened the door wider and Winona slipped into the room. The bed Hermione usually occupied was empty, covers pulled up and pressed, although covered in a thin layer of dust. Winona wasn't sure what she'd been expecting; it wasn't like Kreacher cared enough to dust the house, and Sirius wasn't exactly in the habit of doing menial housework.

Pulling her wand from her hair, Winona flicked it at the bed. The dust vanished instantly, there one moment and gone the next. The room also suddenly smelled strangely of roasted pine – Winona had never been particularly gifted when it came to household charms. There was always some weird side-effect to her spells.

Taking a seat on the bed, she watched as Ginny remained standing, her arms wrapped around her middle like she was doing the best she could to hold the pieces of herself together. "You didn't wanna sleep in the twins' room?" Ginny asked quietly.

"Nah," she said, throwing herself back on the pillows and burying underneath the covers like a meerkat digging its burrow. "I figured you might need a friend."

Ginny had an odd look on her pale face, and for an awful, terrifying moment Winona thought she might burst into tears. But she should have known Ginny wasn't the sort to cry. She went from gripping herself to folding her arms over her chest, looking particularly cross all of a sudden.

"This was You-Know-Who, wasn't it?" she asked, the sort of gleam in her eyes that promised violence.

Winona considered lying but quickly thought better. Mrs Weasley might be set on treating Ginny like a child, but Winona wasn't going to do the same. She wasn't a little kid anymore. And besides, this was war. Sad though it may be, there were no innocents in war.

"Yeah," she nodded, voice low but steady, and Ginny turned her hateful eyes onto the floor.

"I hate him more than anything," Ginny confessed. She said it quietly, like it were a delicate secret. "I hate him and I want him to die. After everything he's done – to Harry, to you, to me – and now to dad… No. I don't just want him to die – I want him to suffer."

Ginny looked up from the floor, eyes shining with hate. Winona's responding smile was gentle. "Don't sink down to his level, Ginger," she said softly. "To wish suffering on anyone does nothing but bring it upon yourself. You're better than he is."

Ginny scowled. "Aren't you the one known for punching first and asking questions later?"

Well, Winona couldn't deny she had a point there. "Age has wisened me."

"Bullshit."

Winona gasped. "You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

Ginny rolled her eyes and didn't deign to respond. Winona grinned.

"Look, all I'm trying to say is that…" she trailed off, unsure how to put her point into words. "I heard once that Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. And hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."

Ginny frowned again. "Who said that?"

"A famous Muggle," said Winona quickly – it was actually Martin Luther King, Jr. who had said the famous quote, but Winona knew Ginny would have no idea who he was, or why he was significant in history.

Winona herself only knew because of her Muggle upbringing. And for as much as she'd always hated History of Magic, Muggle history at primary school had never really bothered her. Maybe it was all about the teacher – Professor Binns could make the history of fireworks sound boring.

"But that doesn't matter," she continued on fluently. "What matters is that he was right. You-Know-Who is about as dark as it comes, so it stands to reason that he's not going to be beaten by darkness. The only way we're going to beat him is with light."

Ginny was quiet a long few moments, peering at Winona through narrowed eyes. "When did you get so mature?" she finally grumbled.

Winona smiled and didn't answer. Slowly, Ginny sat down on her own bed. Easy silence filled the room until finally Ginny was laid down, burrowed under her covers much like Winona, who turned off the lights with another flick of her wand.

"I dunno if I need a friend right now, Winnie," Ginny said eventually, voice small in the darkened room.

Brow furrowed, Winona looked across at her through the dark. The curtains were drawn shut, but a sliver of daylight shone through a gap in the fabric, illuminating Ginny's small figure in the bed. "You don't?"

"No," said Ginny, so soft Winona almost missed it. "I think I need a sister."

Ginny wasn't the sort of person to be vocal about her pain. She didn't like people to know she was struggling, or that she was anything other than fine. But in a flash of unexpected honesty, Winona had been given a glimpse beyond the mask Ginny wore, a glance at the little girl within.

Without another word, Winona climbed out of Hermione's bed and padded on bare feet across the room. Lifting Ginny's blanket, she slid underneath the covers and wrapped an arm around the youngest, toughest Weasley.

Ginny didn't cry, but she did accept Winona's comfort, resting her head on Winona's shoulder with a sigh. Together they breathed in the dark and Winona held her tight. Because while Winona wasn't sure she'd ever truly be one of the Weasleys, she did know that in that moment, Ginny truly did need a sister. And Winona was about as close as she was going to get.

They woke up a few hours later, still curled up together under the blankets, and Ginny yawned loudly as Winona opened the curtains to let in the light of day. It was lunchtime, and they could smell the sizzling bacon that Mrs Weasley was cooking up to make sandwiches for them to eat.

With nothing more than a tiny, grateful smile, Ginny made her way downstairs to eat with the others while Winona climbed up through the house to reach her own bedroom, where she found everything exactly as she'd left it when she'd left for school in September.

Things were a little dusty, but it was nothing a quick charm couldn't fix. She pulled out a pair of old jeans and a Misfits teeshirt that had seen better days, then took a short but scalding shower in an attempt to wash off the last twenty-four hours. She didn't have much luck, but it was nice to wash her hair, at least.

The others were already gathered down in the kitchen when she made her way back down, feet bare and blonde hair still damp. Fred and George were sat near to Sirius, who was happily telling some story from his Hogwarts days involving a trunk of fireworks and the giant squid.

Winona took the open seat next to Fred and greeted him with a chaste kiss on the cheek before picking up her sandwich and eating in silence while she listened to her dad tell his story. Harry sat across from her between a grinning Ron and Ginny, who were talking eagerly about their Christmas plans, although Harry looked far from cheerful.

Winona slid down far enough in her chair to nudge Harry's ankle with the tip of her toes, and he looked up from his sandwich as if coming out of a daze. She lifted her brows in question, and he attempted a smile that wasn't so much a smile as a pained grimace.

She wanted to press, to ask what was wrong; although she was fairly certain she already knew. But despite her nosy nature, she let it go. She didn't want Harry to feel pressured or cornered in any way. She only wanted him to tell her what he wanted to tell her, not what she wanted to know.

He'd had enough of that lately, and she didn't intend to add to it.

"Tonks and Mad-Eye will be here shortly to escort us across the city to St. Mungo's," said Mrs Weasley, cheerful and bright as she tidied the table by hand. "Make sure you've all got proper shoes on. We're travelling the Muggle way, so I suppose there will be a lot of walking involved."

But her words sounded tinny and distant to Winona, who had just realised something rather disturbing. St. Mungo's – it was the largest Wizarding hospital in London. Key word being hospital.

It was easy to think she'd gotten over her fear of hospitals – of doctors – but the truth was that Madam Pomfrey and the hospital wing at Hogwarts were only the exception to the rule. She'd gotten used to walking through those massive wooden doors and the horrible smell of Skele-Gro over six and a half years of exposure. But this wasn't a small, mostly-empty wing in the castle she'd called home half her life – this was a real, honest-to-Merlin hospital, with patients and healers and probably blood … and she suddenly wasn't feeling very well in the stomach.

"You all right?" Fred asked suddenly, assessing her shrewdly. "You're looking peaky all of a sudden."

Winona swallowed. "I'm fine," she lied baldly.

Fred's hand found her leg, but she barely felt it, too focused on the rushing sound of her own blood in her ears. Her boyfriend leaned towards her, lowering his voice so only she heard his next words. "You don't have to come to the hospital if you don't want to, Win," he told her gently. "Nobody will think any less of you for staying home with Sirius."

Somehow she wasn't surprised he knew what was wrong without her having to actually say the words. It had always been like that with him: so easy it was like breathing.

It was tempting, she'd admit. The thought of staying at Grimmauld Place with Sirius, maybe playing a game of cards or finally getting some decent sleep – but she wouldn't allow herself to skirt the issue.

Was she terrified? Yes.

Was she aware her fear was completely ridiculous? Yes.

Would that make walking into that building of horrors any easier? Absolutely not.

"I'm coming," she told Fred stubbornly. His large hand held tight to her leg, long fingers curling around her thigh.

"Sure you won't pass out on me?" he asked, half amused. Winona glared and he held up his free hand in surrender. Then he sobered and reached for the hands she was wringing together on the tabletop. "You really don't need to do this, Win."

Her eyes flashed. "Mr Weasley's been so kind to me all these years – more kind than most people have been my entire life. If I couldn't do my part to save his life, then I think the least I could do would be to visit him in hospital as he recovers!"

By the time she'd finished, her voice was raised enough to catch the attention of the group. They stared at her with varying levels of bewilderment, and she made a face in return.

The doorbell rang five times in quick succession – timed to the beat of the name Helga Hufflepuff. It was the Order's coded ring; suggested, obviously, by their resident Hufflepuff – Tonks. Sirius stood to his feet, breaking the awkward air she'd created.

"That'll be Tonks and Mad-Eye now," he said, casting Winona a worried glance that she ignored. "I'll go let them in – the rest of you get yourselves ready for travel."

As everybody scattered to grab the last of the things they needed for the day, only Fred, George and Harry lingered by her side.

Winona opened her mouth to reassure them she was fine, then caught her cousin's eye and thought better. She turned to look at Fred with a tiny smile. "Would you mind grabbing my shoes from my room?"

And Fred – the brilliant wizard he was – picked up on what she was saying immediately. "The white sand shoes?"

"They're the ones."

He squeezed her hand thrice before dragging a slightly befuddled George up the stairs to get their own shoes sorted. Winona turned to Harry, who was frowning at a knot in the smooth wood of the tabletop. Once the clunky sound of the twins' footsteps on the stairs had faded and they were alone, he looked up, a pinch in his brow.

"I feel like this is all my fault," he said, the strength and pain in the confession nearly bowling her over.

Eyes wide, Winona stared at him wordlessly for a good few moments. "Harry," she finally choked, "none of this is your fault. Okay? Not a single, bloody thing."

Harry sighed. "But Win, I was the snake," he told her, nothing she didn't already know, although now it took on new meaning. For him it wasn't just a point of view, like the lens through which someone watches a film. To Harry, he had been the snake. He had been the one to attempt to kill Mr Weasley in cold blood.

"Harry," she said again, voice stern but somehow also warm. "Look at me."

He reluctantly looked away from the senseless patterns he was tracing to frown at her.

"Is what happened to Mr Weasley my fault?" she asked him point-blank.

He startled. "What? Of course not."

"But I'm the vision-girl. I'm meant to See threats like this coming. I'm meant to be the one to keep things like this from happening. So, if that's my job, then I didn't do my job right, did I? And that means it's my fault."

"Winnie," he huffed, "that's ridiculous."

"But I believe it," she told him earnestly, and it was enough to make him fall silent. "I believe that, Harry. With everything I have, I believe that I failed at my job and it's my fault Mr Weasley's in that hospital bed right now."

"But it isn't true," Harry protested. "You say it yourself all the time – you're not all-knowing. And nobody expects you to be."

"That right there," she said keenly, and Harry went still, a frown puckering his brow, "that's my point. Harry, I know you aren't responsible for this, because I know I am."

"But Win-"

"And you know I'm not responsible, because you think you are," she ploughed on without letting him speak. "I'm not going to back down, and neither are you. And so this, I believe, is what the French call an impasse."

Harry's frown deepened. "So who's right?"

Winona shrugged. "Both of us. Neither of us. It doesn't matter. What's done is done, Harry. It can't be taken back. Now we just have to focus on moving forwards, together."

Her cousin seemed rattled by her words, and she felt a flash of sympathy in her chest. Reaching out, she took his hand in hers. His skin was cool to the touch and a tiny bit clammy, but she held tight anyway, squeezing like they could speak through touch alone.

Harry looked down at their hands, silent for a long few moments, before he cleared his throat and the dark tension that shrouded him like a cloak began to lift.

"Are you going to be okay at the hospital?" he asked her gently.

Sensing he was coming back to himself, Winona let go of his hand only to wrap her arms around her waist like she could hold in all her fear. "I'll be fine," she told him, unsure whether or not it was true.

He looked unconvinced. "If you're not comfortable, you can always stay-"

"Mr Weasley is like a father to me," she interjected, not wanting to hear another person offer to let her cower in Grimmauld Place like a vampire afraid of the sunlight. "In those early years, before Sirius, I thought he was the closest I would ever get to one. So no, I can't stay here, Harry. I'm going to go into that hospital and make sure he knows I care."

Harry opened his mouth, but seemed to think better and shut it again. Together they were stubborn enough to power a small country, and he knew it. It was the Potter blood in them. "Come on," he said instead. "We should get ready to go."

They met with the twins on the ground floor and Winona sat on the stairs as she pulled on her trainers, tying the laces while she halfheartedly listened to her dad and Tonks talk quietly about extra security measures. They were stood away from her, speaking in undertones, but the sound in the cavernous house echoed, and she could hear them clearly enough.

"I'm just saying, last time they were out in London – well, it didn't exactly go well, did it?" her dad was arguing softly.

"They only had Arthur, then, and they weren't anticipating an attack," Tonks replied calmly. "They'll have Moody and I with them today, and this time we're ready for anything."

Her dad looked less than comforted, and Winona knew he'd only be happy with an armed escort of ten thousand, invisibility cloaks, and perhaps a tank, if one was available on such short notice. She smiled wryly down at her laces as she tied them into bows.

"What do you reckon the penalty is for nicking supplies from St. Mungo's?" came George's voice, and she glanced up to find he and Fred leant on the hand rails either side of her. George was stroking his chin like a supervillain in a cheesy cartoon, and Fred was slouched lazily, a wicked smirk flickering at the edges of his mouth.

"George," she said, less than fifteen words into the conversation and already beyond exasperated, "you can't steal from a hospital."

"Sure we can," he argued. "It'll be like taking a chocolate frog from a baby."

"It's not a question of can," she rolled her eyes, finishing her laces and taking Fred's hand to get to her feet, "it's a question of should."

"We're not saying we're gonna clean them out of essential supplies," said George, sounding almost offended. "But hospitals are a great place to find fairy wings."

"They keep more than they need because it's so useful in making the Blood-Replenishing Potion," explained Fred.

"Honestly, we'd be doing them a favour, taking some off their hands," George nodded solemnly.

Knowing it was pointless to argue, Winona withheld a sigh and rolled her eyes. "Okay," she relented. "Do what you like, but leave me out of it. The less I know, the better."

George made a face and poked her playfully in the soft spot in her middle. "When did you become such a spoilsport?" he whined. "You used to be fun, y'know."

Winona scowled at him in response. Ginny and the others reappeared then, shoes and coats and wands all gathered, and then Moody was calling them to attention.

"Today we'll be travelling the Muggle way," he began in his usual, guttural growl. "There will be ample opportunity for any one of us to be grabbed off the street and hauled away for all manner of torture and suffering. Some more than others."

His good eye darted towards Winona while his magical one whirled to Harry. He stared for a long moment at the both of them, and Winona struggled not to scowl back at him petulantly.

Sirius shot Tonks a pointed stare, but she only rolled her eyes in reply.

"Our best chance is to stick together, and to have constant vigilance. For those of us who are underage, have your wands at the ready no matter what. A tedious trial for the use of underage magic is a thousand times better than capture by the enemy," Moody gestured at his face as though he were a lawyer presenting evidence to the court, and Winona grimaced, trying not to think about what, exactly, the old wizard had been through over the years. "Keep close together. Don't make eye contact with strangers. Try your best to blend in."

"Aye aye, captain!" called Fred and George. Moody ignored them while Ginny and Ron rolled their eyes.

"On we go," snapped Moody, and without ceremony he began to lead them out of the house.

Winona made to follow, only for a hand to catch her by the elbow, bringing her to an unexpected stop. It was Sirius, and he had a deep furrow in his brow. "Are you sure you want to risk it?" he asked quietly. Tonks, Harry and Fred lingered by the doorway, waiting for her.

"I'm going," Winona said stubbornly. "How could I not?"

Grim, Sirius nodded his head. "Anything goes wrong, you grab Harry and you Apparate to the park over the road, then you run straight inside. You hear me, Win? No matter who it means you have to leave behind."

The words were dark and foreboding, and something in Winona rejected them. She understood that she was his daughter, and that he loved her more than anything – but leaving her friends? Leaving Fred? It was unthinkable.

"It won't come to that," she said, glad her voice came out steady.

Sirius nodded once. "I hope not."

"Win," called Tonks from the doorway, and Winona was acutely aware that she was holding everyone up.

Quick as a whip, she pushed up onto her toes and kissed her dad on his stubbled cheek. "I'll be okay, Sirius," she told him, and he winced just as he always did every time she called him by his name. It was just a tiny flicker of pain, but she understood it.

She might have progressed to calling him her dad in her head – but out loud? It felt too real, too permanent. It scared her, and she wasn't ready. She thought he knew that, deep down, but she had to wonder whether they were ever going to stop finding ways to unintentionally hurt one another.

"See you later," she said, flashing a final, weary smile before slipping out into the open.

Without the steady protection of the thick walls and dark curtains of Grimmauld Place surrounding her, Winona felt rather like she were suddenly treading water in the middle of the ocean, leaking blood from an injury she couldn't pinpoint.

And where there's blood, there be sharks. And she was sure that those sharks had already caught her scent.


A/N: Hey everyone! Wishing you all a very happy New Year! Last year was a rough one, and for those of you who have found comfort in my little story, just know you're seen and loved, and that I'm so, so humbled that I could help in some tiny way – even if it was just keeping you occupied throughout quarantine.

A quick note: For those of you who may be a little upset about Winona not changing anything significant in this chapter, rest assured that this is one of the last major plot-points that she won't See coming. Whether she can do something to change those coming is another story altogether, but for that you'll just have to wait and see.

Spotlight review goes to: TenebrisSagittarius – thanks so much for your kind words and mammoth review. Getting comments like yours has been the highlight of my own quarantine, so thanks for bringing me a little joy in such uncertain times. I'm glad you're liking the story, and I hope this chapter brought you some happiness!