A/N: Hey guys! Already the response to this story has been great, and I'm so happy you seem to like it so far. I'm uploading the chapters surrounding their first few years quickly, just to get the story moving, but after that they'll come a little slower.

Enjoy!

Professor Trelawney was insane.

Okay, so maybe that was a bit harsh, but she certainly wasn't all there in the head. Winona listened to the Divination teacher prattle on about 'the sight', watching her big arm movements and vacant, misty eyes with a critical gaze. Winona had yet to see her do anything actually practical, but she also figured it could've been worse; there could've been Tarot Cards involved.

Dumbledore stood off to the side, observing their conversation with those intent, intelligent eyes. Finally, after a long time of Trelawney rambling on, she took Winona's hand in her own and peered down at the lines on her palm like there were complex riddles etched into her skin. She observed them for a long time, tracing her fingers over the delicate creases in the skin before humming mildly and gently patting the back of her hand, passing it back to its owner with a filmy-eyed expression.

Unsure what that meant, she watched the accomplished Seer with a hint of caution. "I want you to stare into this crystal ball," Trelawney rasped, placing a glistening crystal orb on the stand in front of her and waving her hands over it like a Muggle magician presenting a trick.

Winona looked over at Dumbledore warily, but the old wizard merely nodded his head with a small, somewhat comforting smile on his lips, telling her without words to go ahead.

Taking a deep breath, Winona leaned forwards and peered halfheartedly into the ball, really not expecting anything. Smoke seemed to whirl around within the crystal, like there was a candle hidden beneath. She stared at it for a long minute, then turned back to Trelawney with a frown. "I don't think it's working," she said, frustrated. What was this meant to accomplish, exactly?

It was hard to work with the pair of them staring at her like an audience waiting for a performing monkey to do a flip through a hoop.

"Focus, young one," the Divination Professor rasped, waving her hands over the orb again in that ridiculous manner that really did no favours for her credibility. "Focus. You must clear your mind, see into the future!"

With a sigh, Winona turned back to her task, resting her hands on the desk in front of her and furrowing her brow as she stared into the ball with everything she had.

"Focus," Trelawney repeated hoarsely. "Clear your mind."

"Isn't that somewhat contradictory?" Winona muttered, more to herself than to either of them. As such, nobody answered her, and she returned her attention back to the stupid orb. She found her mind drifting, but each time brought it back to the smoke in the ball, staring intently, trying to force something to appear in the mist.

There!

A flicker, she was sure of it. She leaned in closer, narrowing her eyes like it would help.

Nothing.

With a huff she sat back in her chair, tipping her head up to the ceiling. "It isn't working," she complained again, rolling her neck before sitting back in the seat properly. She turned to look at Dumbledore, then-

Nothing. Literally, this time.

Pure black. She tried to speak but nothing came out. She couldn't even feel her mouth to tell if it was moving. Images began to flash, too fast for her to make any sense of. She winced, or at least, she thought she did – she couldn't be sure.

It was like she was being dragged under by an unearthly current, violent and treacherous, yanking her in every direction at once. She couldn't talk, she couldn't breathe, she didn't know which way was up. If she could have found her hands, she would have been trying to claw her way to the surface. Her mind was a hum of frantic noise, sounds that might have made sense if she wasn't being tugged deeper and deeper into the thrashing folds of time.

It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours, but sooner or later she was thrust back into the present with the sharp gasp of someone who was drowning finally breaching the surface of the ocean.

The first thing she was aware of was a sharp pain in her fingers. With a start she looked down to see her wrists caught in one of the Headmaster's large hands. He was holding them so tightly that they would likely bruise, and she wasn't looking forward to explaining that one to her friends.

Then she noticed the blood. It ran from her nail beds down the length of her fingers, and she whimpered, feeling pain stabbing at the area around her nails, like someone screwing thumbtacks into her fingertips.

"What the bloody hell happened?!" she demanded with unfiltered alarm, switching her gaze to Dumbledore's face only to see a rare look of uneasiness on his aged features, a far cry from his usual knowing twinkle. "Sir?" she asked again when she received no explanation, feeling panic turn her insides to ice.

"My dear!" Trelawney rasped from behind the Headmaster, and Winona leaned around him to peer at her with wild eyes. The Divination professor stared at her in a something she might describe as rapture. One hand was pressed to her heart in pure elation, and the entire picture made Winona feel more nauseas than ever before. "You have...the sight," she gasped gleefully, like Christmas had come early and she'd been given everything she'd ever wanted.

"That's brilliant," Winona murmured with the utmost sarcasm, the irritation leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. "Why the hell are my hands bleeding?" she pressed, the bubble of panic swelling within her.

She glanced down again, and suddenly things became slightly more clear. On the desk where she had been sitting, there were large, rough scratches made into the wood. Winona's eyes widened in shock as her eyes flickered from the crudely sketched art to her stinging, bleeding fingers.

"Fucking hell," she cussed without a care for propriety, then looked sharply up at Dumbledore in accusation. "What happened?" she asked again, demanding an answer.

"When we didn't give you something to draw with," the Headmaster began slowly. "You..." he trailed off, searching for the right word, "improvised."

Winona sucked in a sharp breath. "That's never happened before," she told him between deep breaths.

"That may be my fault," he told her with a hint of apology, and her eyes narrowed. "Perhaps we pushed you too far too soon," he said with a hum of consideration. "My most sincere apologies; from now on, we will go at a much slower pace."

Her eyebrows raised in surprise. "I have to do that again?"

"We'll take every precaution to make sure this doesn't happen twice," he assured her, but to her, it sounded like there was a whole lot of uncertainty in the answer, and it only strengthened the panicked uneasiness in her gut.

She noticed he continued to hold her hands, but didn't comment, instead looking beyond her bleeding digits to the vandalised desk, trying to see what she'd scratched into the surface. It was only half complete, but from what she could tell it was merely a scoreboard, identical to the one they used at the Quidditch Pitch during matches.

Fucking great, she'd done that to herself, and it wasn't even for anything important.

Her eyes stung, but she bit her tongue hard enough that she tasted blood, successfully stopping the tears from coming. "Are you okay, Miss Andrews?" Dumbledore asked her in concern. She didn't meet his eyes as she nodded. He finally let go of her wrists. They ached where he'd held them, his grip like a vice, surprisingly strong for a man so elderly. "You must go and see Madam Pomfrey."

"Yes, sir."

"I need to talk to Professor Trelawney for a moment, I trust you can get there yourself?" he asked, and she once more nodded her head, uncaring that strands of blonde hair fell into her face. She wasn't sure it was very good procedure, leaving a scared, injured eleven year old girl to wander about the castle on her own, but she wasn't about to argue and have him actually take her to the Hospital Wing, which she had no intentions of going anywhere near.

She picked her bag up gingerly, threading the strap onto her shoulder and holding her stinging hands out in front of her awkwardly, trying not to jostle them too much.

"Winona," Dumbledore called out when she was in the doorway. She paused, turning back to the Headmaster. "I'm sorry," he told her once more, this time with a hint more sincerity than before, but she still didn't respond, just turning away before he could say anything more.

The last place she was going to go was to the Hospital Wing, and she rushed away from the North Tower, shoving her hands into her pockets so they wouldn't be seen by passing students. She figured she could run her fingers under the water in the sink in her dormitory bathroom like Fred had done that one time, and that would be enough; at least, she hoped it would.

It was five minutes to curfew by the time she got to the Tower. "Polyjuice," she barked at the Fat Lady, who rolled her eyes but opened the portrait hole anyway. It was difficult to clamour through with her hands shoved into her pockets, but she managed, and once she was steady on her feet again she shuffled into the common room, heading directly for the stairs to her dormitory.

"Win!" a familiar pair of voices called out from the couches near the fire, but she ignored them, hoping they would think she hadn't heard them. She cursed the stars when a hand gripped her elbow, tugging her hand free from her pocket and exposing her bloodied fingers as a pained cry tore from her lips.

Thankfully nobody else was paying them a lick of attention, Fred being the only one to notice her bloodstained fingers. "Merlin," he breathed, still holding her arm, grip tightening as he stared at the injury with a deep frown.

"I prefer to go by Winona," she said as strongly as she could manage, and his cerulean blue eyes were wide when they met hers.

"This time you have to go to see Pomfrey," he whispered.

"I think you underestimate just how stubborn I can be," she told him, chin tilted up defiantly. The only way he was getting her into a hospital bed was if he knocked her out and levitated her there himself.

He hesitated, but a moment later there was a sort of spark to his eyes that seemed to appear from nowhere. "Come on," he rolled his eyes, still gripping her elbow as he turned and tugged her over to the stairs leading to the boys' dormitory.

"What are you doing?" she asked worriedly, eyeing the stairs like they would bite. "I can't go up there."

"Yeah, you can," he told her with another eye roll. "That slide thing only works for boys on the girls' stairs," he paused to look back at her with a smirk. "We tested it."

She allowed him to tug her up the stairs, awkwardly looking away when a third year they passed on the stairs wagged his eyebrows at her suggestively. Fred led her through a door much like the girls' dorm, the front reading first years.

It was a pigsty, but Winona wasn't surprised. Besides, it wasn't like she could comment; the other girls in her dormitory were constantly nagging her about cleaning up after herself (she had a terrible habit of leaving clothes on the floor and they were always finding pencils in odd places around the room).

He didn't pause, not even when Lee jumped about a foot in the air when he noticed her, halfway through changing his clothes, and gave an indignant cry. She rolled her eyes, like seeing him half-dressed was such a big deal? Still, she averted her eyes for his sake, looking back at Fred as he tugged her into the bathroom.

As he closed the door behind them, she took a moment to look around the room. It was much like the girls', except dirtier and lacking all the various cosmetics that covered their countertops.

He moved her over to the sink, turning on the water so it was warm, then guiding her hands under the stream.

"Why is it you're always covered in blood?" he murmured as he worked, a smirk on his face.

She had a strange, abrupt feeling of deja vu, like this was something that had been said before. She couldn't remember though, but a sudden thought struck her; what if it was something that was going to be said, one day in the future?

The idea made her shudder.

She didn't reply to Fred's comment, merely huffing and trying not to wince from the pain stabbing at her torn fingernails. "Are you gonna tell me what happened?" he asked playfully, which surprised her; she'd been expecting annoyance, or at the very least, persistent curiosity.

"No," she answered him, deciding to attempt the route of omission, as opposed to forming some kind of terrible, unconvincing lie.

He clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, and she smothered a smile before suddenly hissing in pain when his fingers ran over where she was missing a fingernail. "Bloody hell, though," he said as he surveyed the damage. "Did you go twelve rounds with a troll?"

She shot him a small, surprised smile at the flare of amusement his comment made her feel. "That's much better than the actual story," she admitted playfully. "Let's go with that."

"I'll start spreading the rumour first thing in the morning," he assured her with an easy grin. He disappeared back through the door for a moment returning a moment later with the old shirt he'd torn apart the last time he'd had to patch her up. He ripped a few smaller pieces from the bottom, wrapping them around her fingertips and tying them off clumsily. "There we go," he declared once he was finished. "All done."

"Thank you, Fred," she told him sincerely, and he grinned back, waving off her thanks like it wasn't necessary. "We're making a habit of this," she said, attempting a small grin.

"Maybe stop getting injured and we'll break the habit," he replied, but there was a hint of a grin on his lips that softened the bluntness of his statement.

She wanted to tell him she was glad they were friends, but she couldn't force herself to be that sappy, so she merely smiled back before moving over to the door and pulling it open.

"Oh good, you have a shirt on this time," she said to Lee slyly, who was sitting on his bed and scribbling something on a piece of parchment. He scoffed and sent her a halfhearted glare which she laughed off with ease. "Sleep well, boys," she called, turning around to shoot Fred one more thankful smile, eyes bright with her sincerity, before disappearing out the door.

Before she knew it, it was only weeks until the end of the term, and thus the end of her first year at Hogwarts.

Nothing much had changed. McGonagall was still strict and gave them way too much homework; Snape was still an ugly, unfair arsehole; Trelawney still proved to be more and more batshit-crazy at every one of their pointless and stressful weekly meetings; and Dumbledore remained kind but oddly removed from everything she told him, which wasn't much, considering her severe lack of visions as of late.

It was as though Trelawney's private lessons were more of a hindrance than a help, all things considered. More often than not, she walked away with a headache and more questions than she'd had when she'd walked in.

Things in her social life had, in comparison, evolved a lot, largely in part to the twins.

She'd started the year off having few friends to name, and absolutely no idea what she was doing in general. Now, she had more friends than she knew what to do with, and had a bit more of an idea what was happening around her.

Alicia, as tough as she was, could also be rather soft. She liked to organise 'sleepover' nights – which was kind of pointless, because they all lived in a dorm together, so technically every night was a sleepover night, but Winona appreciated the gesture nonetheless. They would take turns painting each others toes, then mostly talk about Quidditch, homework, and how much they hated Snape.

Angelina was kind of a tom-boy, but mostly she just loved her studies. She was always on the others' backs to get them to study with her, but none of them spared much care for the activity. She was nice, and rather blunt at times, not unlike Winona herself. She was slightly more socially aware, however, which was probably for the best.

Hope liked to keep to herself, closer with her friends in Ravenclaw than the three of them, but they made an effort to include her anyway, and the mousy-haired girl seemed to appreciate it.

Lee was a riot, and they bonded over their shared sweet tooth. Sometimes he roped her into playing Wizard's Chess with him. Neither were very good, so it became mainly about cheering on their pieces when they smashed one another to bits. He was funny, and she was glad he was there to share a chocolate frog with while they begrudgingly scribbled down filler words into their Transfiguration essays in the hope to gain an extra inch.

Fred and George, however, were by far her favourite people to spend time with.

Maybe this was a bad thing to admit – she should have enjoyed all her friends equally, and she did, really, but she couldn't help but admit that something about being with the twins was easier than it was with the others.

She didn't feel the need to stay a hundred percent focused on what was happening, they seemed to understand that her mind didn't work like theirs; that it ebbed and flowed with the unpredictability of the sea, and sometimes she faded away, thoughts lost in a swirl of colour as she tugged her sketchbook free from her ever-present bag and got to work, letting the twins' chattering fade into the background.

And they were always there when she came back to earth, grinning and pestering her about getting the 'honour' of seeing the work before anyone else, or maybe nagging her about making up a new signature ("what's the point of having a signature if people can't even read what it says, Win?!").

Her favourite thing about them, though, was how they made her laugh. Their jokes flowed seamlessly, a strange sort of mix between sarcasm and mocking absurdism that had her in stitches. Their brilliant pranks never failed to bring a smile to her face, even if half the time the round of laughter was almost immediately followed by a round of detention.

She was content, and happier than she could ever remember being. She'd never known what it was like to have such a large group of people to spend time with. She'd grown up with no one – literally. It had just been her dealing with the crushing weight of being alone, trying and failing to make her own fun.

So when the school year wound down to a close, she found herself feeling rather depressed. She would miss her new friends, and her new school and the wonderful, amazing, beautiful magic that seemed to hum from within its very walls.

She didn't want to go back to being alone, didn't want to have nobody to talk to or laugh with. What was worse, she didn't want to go back to some stranger's house where she'd be shouted at and struck for forgetting to rinse out her cereal bowl. The thought scared her, like she'd been somehow lulled into a false sense of security.

It didn't matter how wonderful things were at school, she still had to return to the pits of hell. It was like she always said: nothing good ever lasts.

She sat propped on a comfortable chair in the common room on their second last Saturday of the year, sketching – as always – in one of her used books, trying to get Angelina's hair just right from where she could see her playing exploding snap with a second year.

"What a surprise," a familiar voice chimed, appearing at her left.

"This is a sight you don't see every day," a similar one added, materialising on her right.

The Weasley twins propped themselves up on either arm of Winona's chair, grinning down at her widely. "You should really draw more often," George continued.

"Yeah, we almost never see you with a pencil in your hand," Fred joked.

Winona rolled her eyes. "What do you two want now?"

"That's no way to treat your best friends," George goaded.

"Oh, is Alicia here?" she countered, scanning the room teasingly. The twins held their hands over their hearts in playful indignation, but all of them knew she was full of it. "What can I do for you boys?" she asked, reluctantly pulling her attention away from her sketch.

"Just wanted to know what you're up to this summer," Fred said, shifting on the arm of the couch so he could face her properly.

The question made her insides freeze, and she struggled to keep fear from showing on her face. "Nothing really," she said, aiming for nonchalant.

She'd managed to avoid talking about her home life beyond that first meeting on the train. As curious as the twins could be, they'd been surprisingly respectful of her privacy, asking her nothing she wasn't completely comfortable answering.

"Are you pretend-parents looking forward to having you back?" George asked her conversationally.

Fred promptly slapped his brother on the shoulder. "Foster-parents," he corrected him tightly.

Winona was careful not to react. "They're probably not," she told them, playing it off cool with a roguish grin that fell a little flat. "I'm more trouble than I'm worth, remember?" she asked jokingly.

George laughed, but Fred frowned. It was rare to see them with opposing reactions to the same situation. Just to be safe, she avoided looking at him at all. "We were thinking that maybe you could come to the Burrow!" said George enthusiastically.

Her brow pulled down into a frown. "And the Burrow is...?"

"Our house."

"You call your house the Burrow?" she asked bewilderedly. "Why?"

The twins were momentarily rendered speechless. "A play on the name Weasley, I s'pose," said George even as he frowned, seeming to rethink all he'd ever known. Winona couldn't help but smirk at the lost expression on his face.

"So, what say you, Win?" Fred asked, not quite unenthusiastic, but rather holding that same glimmer of concern. He knew something was up – he was too observant for his own good. "Wanna come spend a few days at our place?" he offered hopefully.

She wasn't sure how she'd work it, but any time away from her foster parents sounded like a bloody dream come true. "Your parents won't mind?" she asked warily.

"Mum'll be thrilled," George told her with an easy grin. "She thinks you're a good influence on us."

That gave her pause. "She knows about me?"

"Of course," the twins said simply, like it went without saying. "Told her you were keeping us in line," Fred continued through a mischievous smirk. "Complete and utter shite of course; on a good day, you're just as terrible as we are."

"Only since I met you pixie-brains," she responded cheerfully.

"Who're you calling pixie-brains?" George asked indignantly. Winona could only laugh at his dramatics.

She was going to reply, but Angelina called out for him, and he abruptly wandered away to see what she and her small group wanted. "Wanna sneak down to the kitchens?" Fred asked Winona eagerly, a wicked glint to his eyes that usually meant trouble.

They'd done this several times since becoming friends, and it was one of her favourite things to do. The twins had introduced her to the House Elves (she hadn't even known they existed, but she'd quickly fallen in love with them). They had a special supply of apple pie that they would give her when she came, because they had figured out it was her favourite.

She'd never been down there with just one of the twins, however, and for a moment it felt so strange that she frowned. But then the expression cleared and she decided time with Fred would be nice, and a break from the rowdy common room would be even better.

The kitchen was bustling when the pair arrived, but a small band of merry elves shuffled over, beaming up at them excitedly, eager to get them whatever they desired.

"Mr Weasley," one elf squeaked, small with more of a green tinge to his skin than any other, his large ears wobbling as he shook with anticipation for a job. "Missus Andrews," he continued brightly when he saw her standing there. Winona giggled, slapping a hand over her mouth and not bothering to correct the adorable little thing. "What can Rokka get Mister Weasley and Missus Andrews?" he asked eagerly. "Apple pie with ice cream?"

"Just a pumpkin juice this time, thank you," Winona told him gently, adjusting the strap of her bag.

"Don't want to spoil your supper?" Fred asked and she nodded, rolling her eyes when he told the House Elf he'd take him up on that offer. "Cherries on top, too – if you would, Rokka."

The little elf squealed in pure elation at being given a task, scurrying away before either of them could say anything else.

The two Gryffindors grinned at each other, taking seats at one of the massive tables lining the room. "How'd you do on your Potions exam?" Fred asked curiously, snatching one of the bread rolls already on the table and taking a bite from it.

"I'm hoping for at least a pass," she admitted. "But I'll have to be pretty lucky."

"Was the smoke of your boil treatment pink?"

Winona winced. "More of a dull yellow..."

Fred laughed, and she have a playful huff, turning around to face the bustling elves. "Hey, Win?" began Fred, and she looked away from the cauldron of soup in the corner to blink at him curiously. "Can I ask you something?"

Distracted by the small plate of sliced peaches put out for them to eat, Winona nodded distantly.

"Why don't you want to go home?" he asked. She went still, turning her head to stare at him carefully. He was staring back, eyes open and filled with such an innocent curiosity that Winona couldn't hate him for. "Don't you get on with your foster-parents?" he pressed, hitting the nail on the head.

Wincing, Winona weighed her options. She could lie, tell him yes and move on...but the thing was, she was so sick of lying.

"I don't really think of them as family," she revealed, tracing invisible shapes onto the polished wood of the table. She didn't dare look up to see his reaction. "They give me somewhere safe and warm to sleep, and provide the basic things I need to live, but beyond that…" she trailed off, unsure how to phrase it in a way he'd understand. "I'm just an orphan. That's what I am."

Fred was silent long enough that her heart began to race. "An orphan?" he finally echoed her, a note to his voice she couldn't quite place.

"That's me," she nodded, still tracing lines onto the tabletop, "little Orphan Annie."

Fred hesitated again. "But your name's Winona," he sounded hilariously confused.

Winona laughed, the sound bordering on hysterical, but Fred would take what he could get, even if he didn't understand the joke he'd made. "They're not that bad; I've had worse foster homes in the past. At least these ones don't keep the food in a locked cabinet," she admitted once she'd sobered.

Fred's brow was pulled down in a frown, and he watched her nails drag lightly over the tabletop. "What're their names?" he asked curiously.

That gave her pause. "Huh?"

"Your foster parents. What're their names?"

It was a strange question, but Fred was a strange guy, so it wasn't exactly out of character. "Steven and Denise Klein."

Fred was still struggling to make it all make sense in his brain. "But why do they have you, if they don't even treat you like family?" he wondered, as if he'd never heard anything more preposterous.

"The government gives them money to let me stay," she shrugged. "It's really not so bad – it's just not…" she wasn't sure how to put it.

"Not what?" he pressed, not prying, but rather concerned. It was odd to see her best friend so serious, but she was beginning to learn that not everything in the world was a joke to Fred Weasley – not when it came to the people who truly mattered.

"Not warm," she finally said, finally finding the right word. "Hogwarts, with all its food and fireplaces; teachers who seem to actually care; all my new friends; this is warm. Back at the Klein's place it's just cold, and…and lonely," she confessed quietly.

Fred processed this information quietly. Winona tried not to think the worst. She didn't want him to look at her with pity. She just wanted to be like any other friend; not a charity case for him to work on.

"Sorry," he finally said, and Winona wanted to laugh again at how lame it felt, but she held back, still tracing stars into the tabletop as a way to ignore his eyes. She shrugged again, and the silence dragged on for another minute. "Well, that settles it then," he eventually declared. "You're coming to stay at the Burrow over the Summer."

The fact that he still wanted her to come was the most relieving part. "I'll talk to them," she told him, meeting his eyes with a hesitant smile. She hadn't expected to be so wholly accepted. It warmed her from her hair to her toes, and she smiled even wider at her friend.

There was a bang from across the room as one of the House Elves dropped a saucepan, and her attention was split, so it wasn't until Fred spoke that she realised what had happened. "Hey, Win...?" Fred said again, his tone alarming her. She spun back around to face him, and her stormy eyes widened when she saw what he held in his hands.

Her sketchbook must have tipped out of her bag when she'd swung around, and it had landed on the stone floor, one of her sketches facing upwards.

To her horror, it was one of her 'blackout' sketches, the little star in the corner marking its significance. Although she hoped beyond all hope that the sketch would mean nothing to him, she could tell by the expression on his freckled face that it most certainly did.

She snatched it back desperately, glancing at the image before holding it against her chest. It was that 'Marauders Map' sketch she'd done months ago, the words spilling across the page like ink, little footsteps scattered over the parchment in what had to be a random order and the words 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good...' reading along the bottom.

"Just something I'm working on," she lied, forcing what she hoped was a casual laugh.

Fred didn't look amused, an uncharacteristic frown on his lips and suspicion in his eyes that made her chest ache. "How do you know about the map?" he asked seriously, no trace of lightheartedness in his voice.

She struggled to find a good answer, a bolt of panic stabbing through her gut. Would he call her a freak? Would he not want to be friends with her once he knew the truth? Worse still, would he tell everyone? Spread it around school like some nasty rumour, alienating her from the entire student body?

"Winona?" Fred prompted her, crease between his brows deepening.

She knew that, out of everyone in the school, there was nobody she'd rather tell than the twins. Keeping the secret of her ability, it was weighing her down. The only person she could talk to about it was Dumbledore, but he wasn't exactly one of her everyday mates.

She knew the Headmaster had told her not to tell anyone, but Fred had found out by accident, and after all, wasn't it better to tell the truth than to just let him wildly speculate?

She took a deep breath, lip quivering as she sucked the air in, her arms crossed tightly over her chest and said, "...I can draw the future."

Fred said nothing for a full, entire minute, and the longer the heavy silence dragged on, the more ill Winona began to feel.

The red haired twin stared at her with calculating, curious blue eyes. "You can draw the future?" he finally repeated, brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of her words. "You mean, you're a Seer?" he continued on enthusiastically, not giving her a chance to respond. "So, you know all about the map?!"

She took another breath, trying to understand the odd reaction. "I – um, I can only draw it, I don't know what the sketches mean...at least, not until they happen," she admitted quietly, watching him carefully.

"Have you always been able to do it?" he asked eagerly, something like awe in his lit-up eyes.

"Not always," she answered, still unsure about his odd response – though she admitted it wasn't completely out of character; the Weasley twins were always surprising her, why should Fred's reaction to her oddity be an exception? "I didn't learn, though – it just...happened."

"Merlin, this is wicked," he beamed uncontrollably, blue eyes alight with excitement. "I have to tell George!"

For a heartbeat she considered telling him he couldn't, that he wasn't allowed to share this with his brother – but Winona knew better than to waste her breath; Fred would be telling George whether he had her approval or not.

"Okay," she allowed with a small frown, still feeling somewhat gobsmacked from the whole exchange, her world twisted on its side in an instant. "But nobody else – only George."

"You have my word, oh-great-and-powerful Seer," he told her with a cheeky grin.

When she'd first realised she had this ability, the last way she expected anyone to react was with a mirthful joke, though she found it didn't bother her but instead made her feel almost...normal. She couldn't help the amused – and somewhat relieved – smile that flickered at her lips.

"You never used to do that, y'know?" he said suddenly, and she looked up at him in clear confusion. "Smile," he elaborated. "In our first few months here, George and I used to do everything we could to get you to smile. Now look at you, grinning away. I'd say a bit of Weasley was all the medicine you needed."

Groaning at his terrible joke, Winona rubbed her hands over her face. "Never say that last part ever again," she advised him, but he only kept grinning, clearly proud of himself. "I guess you've just worn me down, Fred," she added with a long-suffering sigh.

The two friends lapsed into silence, Winona still trying to process everything that had just occurred, while Fred appeared thoughtful, chewing on his treat, the ice cream smeared on his chin getting wiped off with the back of his hand.

"You could tell us who'll win Quidditch matches!" he suddenly exclaimed, blue eyes bright with the possibilities. "We'll make a fortune!"

Winona paused, a frown tugging at her lips. "It doesn't really work that way. I can't control it. I don't get to choose what I see."

Fred mirrored her disappointment. "Maybe if you practise?" he suggested hopefully.

"Well..." she hesitated, wondering if she was allowed to tell him what she wanted to, before deciding that she didn't really care if Dumbledore got angry with her for it – it was her secret to tell, and she could share it with anyone she bloody well pleased. "I'm actually having lessons with the Divination professor once a week," she admitted, tracing her nails over the cover of her sketchbook. "She's teaching me, but I still have a long way to go."

Fred looked contemplative again, finishing up his food before leaping to his feet and heading for the door. "Come on," he frowned at her impatiently, like she was being an inconvenience by not moving. "We've got to go get George!"

Winona was quick to gather her things, hurriedly rushing after her friend, following him out of the pleasantly warm kitchens and into the cooler halls. His legs were longer than hers, and she had to jog to keep up with his fast pace. "So what's this map thing, anyway?" she couldn't help but ask. Most of her 'predictions' remained a mystery, it would be nice to have one explained for once.

"Can't tell you."

Winona huffed with indignation, even going so far as to stop walking, making Fred pause with one foot on the first step of the staircase when he realised she was no longer following him. "You can't tell me?" she asked, chin tilting up and eyes narrowed, clearly miffed. "After what I just told you?"

Fred had the nerve to roll his eyes. "Not that I can never tell you," he amended, hands held out placatingly. "I just wanna make sure George is on board before I do – which I'm sure he will be!" he was quick to add when he noticed her growing glower. He'd seen her punch before, he knew she could break his nose easily, and he didn't really fancy that ever happening.

She wanted to argue, but she knew how close the twins were – they practically shared a brain – it made sense that he wouldn't want to give away what was clearly a secret without his brother's okay. "Fine," she allowed, crossing her arms over her chest and starting forward again, the soles of her beaten up chucks slapping the stone quietly.

"Maybe you can predict whether or not Carroll will end up sweeping the floors at the Leaky Cauldron," he joked with a grin, quickly following her up the stairs, heading towards the common room.

Winona rolled her eyes fondly, a smile tugging at her mouth. "Maybe."

George was easy enough to get out of the tower, and since it was still early (the sun still far from dropping below the horizon), they headed out into the courtyard, stepping around some rowdy sixth years and making their way over to one of the benches.

Fred spoke with George in hushed tones, keeping a few paces ahead of the young Seer, glancing back at her every few moments. She wasn't offended, they did this more often than not, though she couldn't help but feel slightly uneasy, knowing this time they were talking about her.

She took a seat on the bench, folding her legs up underneath her as she so often did, tugging at the sleeves of her ratty old sweater. Finally the twins paused their whispering, turning to face her with blank expressions on their usually-bright faces.

"You can see the future?" George was the one to ask, clearly believing his brother, though there was still a small, lingering skepticism in his bright blue eyes. "You know about the Map?"

"What is this bloody Map?" she demanded hotly.

George frowned. "You're not a very good Seer, are you?"

Winona scowled, less than pleased by his comment. George broke out in a wide, cheesy grin, reaching out to bump her fondly in the shoulder.

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?!" he asked brightly, taking a seat on the bench beside her and beaming merrily.

"Dumbledore asked me not to tell anyone," she admitted softly, cheeks a soft pink. "Also, I guess I was kind of afraid you would...I dunno...think I was weird, or something."

"Why would we think that?" he asked, sounding genuinely befuddled.

"Even by Wizarding standards, drawing the future is odd."

"Winona, I say this with the utmost respect and affection," George said seriously, and she looked up from where she'd been staring sheepishly at her folded hands, fixing her stormy grey eyes on him, watching as he stared back imploringly. "You're. An. Idiot."

Confused, Winona's features scrunched up in bewilderment.

"Why would you ever think we'd think this was anything other than cool?!" he asked jovially, and from above them, Fred was grinning with all the brilliance of the sun.

Relieved beyond words, Winona's shoulders sagged as if a massive weight had just been removed, and she sighed to herself. "You're right," she said, glancing back up, smiling up at them gratefully. When they'd first met she couldn't have imagined them ending up friends, let alone best friends, even despite their sure declaration that they would be just that. "You guys are the best," she told them sincerely, and they brushed imaginary lint off their shoulders in mock modesty.

Something occurred to her.

"You can't tell anybody," she said quietly, glancing across the courtyard at a group of older kids who were tossing Every Flavour Beans into the air and catching them in their mouths. "Not anyone."

"Why?" George didn't seem to understand.

"Dumbledore says it could be dangerous," she replied, casting a glance up at the castle as though she might be able to see Dumbledore through the thick layers of stone, staring down at her in warning. "That if people knew, they might try to hurt me for it."

She didn't quite understand why that was; why would anyone try and hurt her just because she could occasionally predict the future? If somebody wanted to know their fortune so desperately, why wouldn't they just ask her?

She looked back at the twins, both of whom were eyeing one another, concern twisting at their mouths. "Promise me," she pleaded, needing reassurance that her secret was in safe hands.

As one they nodded, smiles spreading across their freckled faces. "We promise," they swore, and she sighed, comforted by their endless acceptance and friendship.

George yanked a folded piece of parchment from his pocket, holding it up with a grin. "Here it is, then," he said proudly, handing it over to her like it were something precious. "Been trying to crack it for months, and you do it in a single drawing," he scoffed, but the sound wasn't bitter.

"What?" she asked, confused as she held the parchment gingerly.

"It's the Map," Fred said like it were obvious. "It says Marauder's Map on the front, but that's all we've been able to get out of it. But we think you cracked it!"

"Cracked what?"

"The password!" he huffed, exasperated. She only stared. "Get out your sketchbook. Look at the page with the Map on it."

Still confused but knowing better than to bother arguing, Winona fished out her sketchbook, flipping to the right page. As her eyes scanned it, suddenly what the twins were saying made sense. She passed the book over to a curious looking George and pulled her wand from her pocket. She let it hover over the blank parchment, then uttered the words she'd unknowingly transcribed into her book.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Just like in her drawing, ink dots appeared on the page, slowly spreading out until they formed clear corridors and tiny little sets of shoe prints. Eyes wide, Winona looked up at the twins bent over to get a good look, and together they eagerly discovered the secrets of The Marauder's Map.

Leaving Hogwarts was almost painful, Winona found when it was time for them to take the magically-pulled carriages back to Hogsmeade Station where the Hogwarts Express waited to take them all back to London.

She leaned half out of the carriage door, staring up at the castle wistfully, missing it dearly already. "We'll be back in a few months," Lee assured her with a laugh, dragging her back into the carriage just as a large tree branch passed by where her head had been moments ago. She smiled at him gratefully and pulled her legs up underneath her.

The station was busy when the arrived, and they raced to secure a compartment all to themselves. They found one near the back and settled in. Alicia, Lee and Angelina began to talk about their summer plans, and Winona turned to the twins as she pulled out three Sugar Quills, handing them one each before settling back on the bench for the journey.

"Can you believe Professor Burbank got caught running that illegal duelling ring in Hogsmeade?" George asked conversationally as the train pulled away from the station, slowly at first, then picking up speed. Winona tried not to think about how it felt oddly like she were leaving home – and how, maybe, it wasn't so odd at all.

"Heard he was sentenced to a year in Azkaban!" Fred added in a gossipy tone.

"Well, you know what they say about the Defence position at Hogwarts," Winona said, pulling away from her Sugar Quill long enough to talk.

"That it's cursed?" George asked in a crooning sort of voice, wiggling his fingers at her playfully.

"Stranger things have happened," she hummed, finding it hard to believe that a wizard didn't believe in curses. "Wonder who we'll get next year?" she pondered aloud. "Burbank, as illegal as some of his activities may have been, was an okay teacher."

"I'm sure it'll be someone good," Fred said, "Dumbledore would only choose the best. So, when do you think you'll be coming to our place?" he asked quickly, hopeful. Winona got the feeling he didn't like the thought of her alone with her foster parents all summer. It made her insides bloom with warm.

"I dunno," she shrugged, acting like it wasn't the thing she was most looking forward to in the whole world.

"Thanks for the invite, guys!" Lee chirped sarcastically from where he sat beside Fred. The twins rolled their eyes, playing annoyed.

"Of course you're invited, Lee," Winona told him, even though it wasn't her house and she had no authority to extend such an offer. "Isn't he, you two?" she hissed at the twins, who quickly nodded their heads, probably just worried she'd kick them again.

Lee chuckled. "It's fine, I'm going to be in Brussels for most of the summer anyway."

George snorted. "Why would you want to go to Brussels?" he asked with a tone of disgust, and despite herself, Winona laughed.

"I've got family there, you git," Lee replied tartly, but even he couldn't quite hide the upward quirk of his lips.

Angelina and Alicia turned to Winona, sucking her into a conversation about keeping in touch over the holidays, and Winona grinned through it, soaking up the time with her friends – the first real friends she'd ever made – before she'd have nothing but letters to speak with them through.

It ended far too quickly; Winona seemed to only blink once and the Hogwarts Express was pulling into King's Cross with a toot of its horn.

"I'll see you lot soon?" she asked as they all stood up, her friends murmuring agreements and warm farewells before they parted ways, heading off to where their families waited. Only Fred and George remained behind, pausing next to the train while Winona hopped off and dragged her things onto the platform after her.

"Any final words of wisdom before we part ways?" George asked cheerfully.

She pretended to think for a moment. "Be good," she finally said primly.

The twins snorted. "Be realistic," Fred tutted, and she laughed.

"I'll see you soon!" she promised them. They called out matching farewells and with a final grin, Winona turned and hurried towards the barrier, stepping through and into the bland, ordinary Muggle world once again. Already she was counting the minutes until she could step back into her world of magic, the only place she'd ever felt like she'd belonged.

A/N: A tiny bit shorter than the last one, but I hope you liked it. As I said above, I'm really glossing over the events of Winona's first two years at Hogwarts, as nothing particularly thrilling happens other than her forming friendships with the gang, coming into her abilities as a Seer, and learning more about the Wizarding world. I'm really just laying the groundwork for the real story, which begins once Harry arrives at Hogwarts.

I would also like to quickly add that the sly comment on Brussels was written ages ago, and since writing it I have actually been there, and it's seriously so incredibly beautiful, one of the most stunning places I've ever been! If you ever have the opportunity to go, do it. You won't regret it!

Leave me a review and let me know your thoughts – I'd be super grateful. And thanks to those who have reviewed already. Your kind words meant the world, and I'm writing this for you!